(no subject)
On a completely different note from, well, everything in here lately, I have some new fic! I wrote half of this a couple weeks ago, and finally finished today.
Fandom: Greek
Title: Underhanded Politics
Pairing: Casey/Frannie
Rating: R
Summary: Because she needs something - anything - to overpower the new and improved Frannie and just seriously, finally, win this thing between them once and for all.
Spoilers/Notes: Up through 2.07 - Formally Yours. Pre-ZBZ election, therefore does not take into account the events of 2.08.
Disclaimer: Belongs to ABC Family, Patrick Sean Smith and definitely not me, purely fictional, etc etc.
Here’s the thing. Between Rebecca’s spring break rebellion, the restriction issues, and, let’s face it, the convention by-law vote, Casey has somehow oddly fallen in love with her job as ZBZ president. So she might not have come by it the way Frannie did the first time around. So she kinda had to work through a massive amount of Rebecca-hate to get where she is (with Ashleigh’s help, of course). It, strangely enough, doesn’t matter now. It doesn’t matter now, because this is the race she suddenly feels she has been preparing herself for since freshman year. The real race for ZBZ president.
So she’s running against her big sister, her mentor, Evan Chambers’ current girlfriend, something she didn’t think would really be happening, especially after Frannie’s dismissal. Somewhere in all the pink, sparkly, cupcake-bribe infused, sneaky campaigning, Casey finds herself at what almost feels like a stopping point. There’s a knot of information she doesn’t have, but yet desperately needs. Because she needs something - anything - to overpower the new and improved Frannie and just seriously, finally, win this thing between them once and for all.
So it almost comes as a relief when Frannie shows up at her bedroom door one night, without bothering to knock. Ashleigh sees the look on Frannie’s face and scurries quickly out, muttering something about pretty boys somewhere doing something awesome that may or may not involve alcohol, leaving Casey alone, legs crossed on top of her comforter, watching Frannie without saying anything.
When Frannie shuts the door and almost off-handedly locks it, Casey doesn’t seem all that surprised. She’s come to expect the dramatic from her consistently overdressed, overpressed sister. Casey almost laughs out loud, wondering why on earth Frannie is even wearing an ensemble that makes her look like she’s in a play about high powered career women at this time of night on a Wednesday, but the eye-rolling giggle only makes it as far as her teeth before she chokes it back.
“Something funny, Case?” Frannie asks in a tone of far too easy casualness.
Casey just shakes her head no, even though she now has a picture in her head of Frannie trying to seduce Evan dressed like this, and figures Frannie probably does try that very thing. And often. Because, you know, it’s what money wears. Which bothers her far less than she might have thought a month or two earlier, and actually, it’s kind of hot.
“Nope. Nothing funny, Fran,” she adds in a mocking tone, suddenly becoming very interested in the state of her cuticles.
Frannie sits down on Casey’s bed, and smiles that condescending smile right at her, because Frannie knows how tension works. She knows there’s more between her and Casey than just a simple sorority rivalry, and she also knows what she wants. What she wants is to be ZBZ president again, and she definitely won’t get there if her little protégé is rebelling against her, which is why she’s resorting to something she said she never wanted to try.
Sex is one of the shadier, sneakier sides of politics, and though Frannie isn’t usually such an intensely sexual person, there’s something about Casey’s unflinching hatred that just makes her want to grab the blonde, grip her hair, and pull her into the kind of tongue warring, teeth clenching kiss that breaks a person, makes them crack. Which is exactly what she does.
And Casey? Doesn’t even resist, not a even a little bit, because ohgodohgod, it’s Frannie’s tongue swirling around hers, Frannie’s hands clutching her hair, Frannie’s body moving above hers and pushing her down into her pillows, and she’s pretty sure she’s never felt anything like this before, not even with Cappie, and that wasn’t exactly a tame relationship. But Frannie just knows. Instinctively, somehow, she knows exactly that what Casey wants, right now, is to have a hand push up under her tank top, and draw a finger just under the edge of her bra, teasing.
Casey makes this little squeaky, happily surprised noise that makes Frannie pause just long enough for Casey’s eyes to darken, and she’s almost shocked when Casey suddenly pushes up, reaching for that ridiculous blazer and button down, and rips it halfway apart before she realizes it doesn’t really work the way it does in movies. Frannie gets the message, though, and removes the shirt and jacket herself, tossing them behind her.
“Thank God, I’ve been wanting to do that since you came in the door,” Casey breathes, then mentally kicks herself for sounding so much like a cheesy porno. “You know, because that was kind of a lame ensemble,” she adds for effect. “I mean, really, who wears a blazer inside on a random Wednesday night?”
Frannie rolls her eyes and chuckles to herself as she leans forward again, closing in on Casey. “Case?”
“Yeah?”
“Shut up,” she practically breathes into Casey’s mouth, claiming her bottom lip between her teeth.
Casey’s eyes flutter closed, and somewhere between the swift bra removal and the slide of Frannie’s slick skin against her own, she realizes this is probably it. The thing. The way she can win. Because right now, Frannie thinks it’s about her. Casey knows this because Frannie is on top of her, pressing her into the rumpled sheets, sliding one hand into Casey’s hair and the other down, inside, a confident smirk on her face when she feels Casey start to shudder.
Frannie thinks she has the power, but Casey knows better. Because it’s Frannie’s fingers inside of her, curling just enough to make Casey squirm and arch her back, hips rising. It’s Frannie going all out, uncharacteristically sweaty hair falling into her face as she tries her hardest to make sure Casey reaches that place where it’s all about electric sensation and singing nerves. It’s Frannie caring suddenly, intensely, about what Casey needs, above all else.
And that’s why even though it’s Frannie on top with the smirk and the deft, skilled hands, it’s Casey who has the power. Casey who’s going to win.
Fandom: Greek
Title: Underhanded Politics
Pairing: Casey/Frannie
Rating: R
Summary: Because she needs something - anything - to overpower the new and improved Frannie and just seriously, finally, win this thing between them once and for all.
Spoilers/Notes: Up through 2.07 - Formally Yours. Pre-ZBZ election, therefore does not take into account the events of 2.08.
Disclaimer: Belongs to ABC Family, Patrick Sean Smith and definitely not me, purely fictional, etc etc.
Here’s the thing. Between Rebecca’s spring break rebellion, the restriction issues, and, let’s face it, the convention by-law vote, Casey has somehow oddly fallen in love with her job as ZBZ president. So she might not have come by it the way Frannie did the first time around. So she kinda had to work through a massive amount of Rebecca-hate to get where she is (with Ashleigh’s help, of course). It, strangely enough, doesn’t matter now. It doesn’t matter now, because this is the race she suddenly feels she has been preparing herself for since freshman year. The real race for ZBZ president.
So she’s running against her big sister, her mentor, Evan Chambers’ current girlfriend, something she didn’t think would really be happening, especially after Frannie’s dismissal. Somewhere in all the pink, sparkly, cupcake-bribe infused, sneaky campaigning, Casey finds herself at what almost feels like a stopping point. There’s a knot of information she doesn’t have, but yet desperately needs. Because she needs something - anything - to overpower the new and improved Frannie and just seriously, finally, win this thing between them once and for all.
So it almost comes as a relief when Frannie shows up at her bedroom door one night, without bothering to knock. Ashleigh sees the look on Frannie’s face and scurries quickly out, muttering something about pretty boys somewhere doing something awesome that may or may not involve alcohol, leaving Casey alone, legs crossed on top of her comforter, watching Frannie without saying anything.
When Frannie shuts the door and almost off-handedly locks it, Casey doesn’t seem all that surprised. She’s come to expect the dramatic from her consistently overdressed, overpressed sister. Casey almost laughs out loud, wondering why on earth Frannie is even wearing an ensemble that makes her look like she’s in a play about high powered career women at this time of night on a Wednesday, but the eye-rolling giggle only makes it as far as her teeth before she chokes it back.
“Something funny, Case?” Frannie asks in a tone of far too easy casualness.
Casey just shakes her head no, even though she now has a picture in her head of Frannie trying to seduce Evan dressed like this, and figures Frannie probably does try that very thing. And often. Because, you know, it’s what money wears. Which bothers her far less than she might have thought a month or two earlier, and actually, it’s kind of hot.
“Nope. Nothing funny, Fran,” she adds in a mocking tone, suddenly becoming very interested in the state of her cuticles.
Frannie sits down on Casey’s bed, and smiles that condescending smile right at her, because Frannie knows how tension works. She knows there’s more between her and Casey than just a simple sorority rivalry, and she also knows what she wants. What she wants is to be ZBZ president again, and she definitely won’t get there if her little protégé is rebelling against her, which is why she’s resorting to something she said she never wanted to try.
Sex is one of the shadier, sneakier sides of politics, and though Frannie isn’t usually such an intensely sexual person, there’s something about Casey’s unflinching hatred that just makes her want to grab the blonde, grip her hair, and pull her into the kind of tongue warring, teeth clenching kiss that breaks a person, makes them crack. Which is exactly what she does.
And Casey? Doesn’t even resist, not a even a little bit, because ohgodohgod, it’s Frannie’s tongue swirling around hers, Frannie’s hands clutching her hair, Frannie’s body moving above hers and pushing her down into her pillows, and she’s pretty sure she’s never felt anything like this before, not even with Cappie, and that wasn’t exactly a tame relationship. But Frannie just knows. Instinctively, somehow, she knows exactly that what Casey wants, right now, is to have a hand push up under her tank top, and draw a finger just under the edge of her bra, teasing.
Casey makes this little squeaky, happily surprised noise that makes Frannie pause just long enough for Casey’s eyes to darken, and she’s almost shocked when Casey suddenly pushes up, reaching for that ridiculous blazer and button down, and rips it halfway apart before she realizes it doesn’t really work the way it does in movies. Frannie gets the message, though, and removes the shirt and jacket herself, tossing them behind her.
“Thank God, I’ve been wanting to do that since you came in the door,” Casey breathes, then mentally kicks herself for sounding so much like a cheesy porno. “You know, because that was kind of a lame ensemble,” she adds for effect. “I mean, really, who wears a blazer inside on a random Wednesday night?”
Frannie rolls her eyes and chuckles to herself as she leans forward again, closing in on Casey. “Case?”
“Yeah?”
“Shut up,” she practically breathes into Casey’s mouth, claiming her bottom lip between her teeth.
Casey’s eyes flutter closed, and somewhere between the swift bra removal and the slide of Frannie’s slick skin against her own, she realizes this is probably it. The thing. The way she can win. Because right now, Frannie thinks it’s about her. Casey knows this because Frannie is on top of her, pressing her into the rumpled sheets, sliding one hand into Casey’s hair and the other down, inside, a confident smirk on her face when she feels Casey start to shudder.
Frannie thinks she has the power, but Casey knows better. Because it’s Frannie’s fingers inside of her, curling just enough to make Casey squirm and arch her back, hips rising. It’s Frannie going all out, uncharacteristically sweaty hair falling into her face as she tries her hardest to make sure Casey reaches that place where it’s all about electric sensation and singing nerves. It’s Frannie caring suddenly, intensely, about what Casey needs, above all else.
And that’s why even though it’s Frannie on top with the smirk and the deft, skilled hands, it’s Casey who has the power. Casey who’s going to win.