(no subject)
Title:None, as yet.
Rating: Weak NC-17
Fandom: Desperate Housewives
Pairing: Bree/Lynette
Disclaimer: They're not mine. Please don't skewer me.
Wordcount: ~2,000
Bree stood in their lounge, greedily taking in the sight that was before her. She’d watched Lynette painting her garage door for a while this morning, and after looking out of her window ten minutes ago and noticing the smear of white paint on the Scavo driveway and no Lynette in sight, she’d wandered over to see if everything was okay.
Her exquisite mouth curved into a smile at the sight she’d found - Lynette sleeping soundly on the couch. Bree had come in looking for a cup of coffee, perhaps, and a chat, but now it seemed there was something else on her mind. There was a faint smell of turpentine in the air, but Bree didn’t take the time to place the source as her eyes wandered languidly from the bare feet curled up loosely on the couch, across those shapely calves to the smooth skin of peach-white thighs. Lynette was wearing a shirt which she guessed belonged to Tom - it swamped the blonde’s upper body, finishing just below the curve of her hips.
Until now it hadn’t crossed Bree’s mind to question why Lynette wasn’t wearing any pants, but suddenly the idea of a half-naked Lynette dozing on the couch in her living-room seemed bizarre. She let her eyes finish the journey over the rumpled shirt, only half-buttoned, up that slender neck to the curve of pale lips and those wide open bright blue eyes. Bree took a step back, mortified that she’d been caught openly admiring the body of one of her closest friends.
“Hey.” The now awake Lynette started to sit up, sleepily stretching her arms above her head and swinging her legs off of the couch. She smiled up at the blinking red-head. “See something you like?” Bree looked away, at the floor, the ceiling, anywhere but into those eyes. She started to mumble apologies, flushing intensely.
“Bree- I was joking!” Lynette rose now to stand in front of her, the rumpled shirt falling loosely around her body, collar open to her sternum. Still Bree wouldn’t look at her - couldn’t. She felt disgusted with herself for violating their friendship in the way she had.
“Lynette, I’m sorry…I should just go.” She turned away to leave, but Lynette’s grip on her wrist stopped her. She didn’t turn back however, and for a moment they just stood in limbo, between what they knew and what they wanted to know. Then, slowly, Lynette’s grip loosened, slipping down to link with Bree’s willowy fingers.
“Bree. Look at me. Honey, look at me, please.”
Tentatively Bree started to turn, breathing shallow and eyes closed, till she was once again facing Lynette. The shorter woman reached and touched the smoothness of the pale cheek in front of her with the backs of her fingers.
“Just because I caught you doesn’t mean you have to stop looking...”
She started to open her eyes, and sighed gently as she saw the warm and reassuring smile that greeted her. Lynette’s hand continued down her cheek, trailing her thumb across Bree’s perfectly painted lips, taking some of the colour away with it. Her hand came down to rest on their still-entwined fingers.
“I’ve noticed, you know - The way you watch me.” The corner of Lynette’s mouth lifted in a tiny smile as the breath caught in Bree’s throat. Still their gazes were locked, and blue eyes saw the flicker of fear deep within green ones. “Are you scared of this?” Lynette took a step closer, lifting their hands into the small space between their chests.
“What is… this?” Words escaped painted lips barely above a whisper.
“You tell me.”
“You’re half nak- not wearing any pants, Lynette.” Bree almost swallowed the words before they escaped, the brazenness of their connotations not eluding her.
“You think I set you up?” The thought hadn’t crossed Bree’s mind till she heard the words out loud, but now she frowned in suspicion. “God, you’re beautiful when you do that.” Bree - despite being used to compliments such as this - flushed softly, while Lynette continued, voice soft and low. “It could just be a very interesting coincidence.”
“Lynette, I… Please. Let me leave.” There was no firmness, no decision in her tone.
“You don’t want to go. I can see it in your eyes.” As she spoke, her hand drifted to Bree’s svelte hip, thumb and forefinger snaking slowly between the waistband of her slacks and the hem of her twinset.
“This is wrong.” Bree whispered.
The anger at that statement erupted from Lynette in a frustrated sigh, pushing Bree away from her as she stormed across the room, “God! Won’t you ever stop being Stepford?”
“Lynette, don’t-”
Whirling on her bare feet, the fiery blonde looked on the verge of tears. “You’re so worried about what other people would think, your so-called ‘propriety’ and your damn pasted on ideals that you can’t even begin to see how much you need this!’ She was gesturing wildly now, advancing back to where Bree stood, stock still. “I know you. You’re not happy. You’ve not been happy for years. Did you ever think the reason you’re unhappy could be the stupid idea you have about what’s right?” Lynette’s voice dropped to barely a whisper, and she placed her hands on the pale skin of Bree’s cheeks, their faces just a breath apart. “Even if you don’t know what this is, I do.” Green eyes stared in disbelief.
“I do, Bree. It’s what’s real.”
Their lips touched delicately, eyes flickering closed instinctively. After a moment of hesitation, Bree placed her hands on Lynette’s waist, steadying herself against the feelings assaulting her senses. She felt slim fingers moving to the nape of her neck as the kiss deepened. She was swimming in her thoughts and Lynette’s words and lips - god, those lips. She’d never been kissed like that, not in all her relationships, or in all her life. There was a simple knowledge in the way the younger woman’s tongue slipped past her own painted lips, slowly and deliberately. Lynette’s hands dropped leisurely to Bree’s hips, her fingers slipping under the hem of the twinset, followed by her palms resting on the uncovered flesh.
The taller woman pulled out of their heated kiss, staring wide-eyed at the blonde in front of her.
“Sweetheart. Bree. It’s okay.” Lynette lifted the twinset higher, and Bree instinctively lifted her arms above her head like a child. Tossing the garments aside, Lynette dipped her head and kissed the pale shoulder before her, sliding well-worn hands over her back. The string of small pearls around Bree’s neck now rested gently on her collarbone, and Lynette’s lips followed the curve with little kisses, till she reached her sternum between satin covered breasts. The skin there was flushed with heat, and straightening, she replaced her lips with her hand, resting long fingers above the pounding heart. The two women locked eyes for a long moment, and a silent agreement was decided upon. This would be their secret. Lynette grasped the pale hand of the woman in front of her, and started to lead her towards the stairs. Bree followed calmly, breath fluttering in her throat as her feet climbed the stairs.
Once they reached the bedroom, everything seemed more surreal. Bree couldn’t really grasp that it was her fingers that were working the buttons of the oversized shirt. Nor could she understand that it was Lynette’s that unclasped her bra and gently pushed her, topless, back onto the bed. Moments later, the long legs that Bree had admired earlier were straddling her still pant-clad hips, and those lips that simply knew her too well were on hers again, but this time there was more urgency, and as she hungrily returned the kiss and wrapped her arms around the slender torso of the woman above her, she finally felt like she wasn’t pretending any more. She never wanted this acute familiarity to end. She was suddenly aware of knowing everything and being known completely. Lynette’s fingers were gentle and deft, sliding over pale breasts and pinching terracotta nipples into over-sensitive points. Bree could feel every touch deep inside her sex - she ached for Lynette, to please and be pleased. It hurt, then, when the kiss was broken, and the blonde straightened. Still, her hands moved across her skin, and Bree moaned softly as Lynette worked both nipples together, and thrust her hips up to grind against the sex of the younger woman. She was spurred on by the groan she elicited by doing so. She slid her hands down Lynette’s back, dragging her nails till she reached the top of her underwear. She started to pull at them, but was thwarted in her task by Lynette’s shifting further down on to the part of her leg just above her knees. An instant later, Bree realised that she was working on the button and fly of her slacks. She lifted her hips to help, and soon the pants and underwear were cast aside, and the younger woman had positioned herself between bare, soft legs. She reached out and smoothed a hand across Bree’s ivory stomach, working her way to the perfectly trimmed patch of hair between her legs, where she could already see the moisture collecting. The urge Lynette had to taste her was almost overwhelming, and she felt her own core ache at the thought of it.
Bree watched as the blonde dipped her head, and gasped as she felt hot breath on her sex. She gripped the sheet and almost cried out at Lynette’s first tentative sweep of her tongue. The blonde’s grip tightened on her thighs as she set up a rhythm, working small circles around Bree’s hard clit. The low rumbles of orgasm had already settled in the base of her stomach, deeper and more intense than ever before. She arched her spine as Lynette slipped first one, then two fingers deep inside her, the wetness helping them glide smoothly. She increased the pace of both her fingers and her tongue in unison. It briefly crossed Bree’s mind that Lynette must have experience in this, to be this good, to be this - oh - this - damn - just there -ah-
“God!” Just as she was on the brink, Bree reached down to Lynette’s shoulders and pulled her up, till they were face to face, bodies flush together. She could see herself glistening on the smaller woman’s lips, smiled as she saw those perfectly pale lips smile.
“Uh uh. Together. You and me.” She slipped her hand down till she reached the top hem of Lynette’s panties. She moved her hand inside them, and sighed when she saw those blue eyes flutter shut. Finding Lynette’s clit, she worked her fingers the way she would do on herself after Rex had long since finished pounding heavily away at her.
They turned over till they were lying face to face on the bed, and Lynette’s hand returned to its previous task. Almost at once they fell into a mutual rhythm, fingers slipping and thrusting in unison, lips and tongues battling urgently and neither was sure who was moaning in that low, erotic way. The sweat on their skins mingled, and as Lynette hungrily kissed her neck she tasted the salt. Bree’s thumb pressed down on her clit, and she let out a harsh gasp. They came in shudders and cries, Bree’s surprisingly loud. Their movements stilled, bodies humming and breathless, till they were lying all arms and legs entangled on the bed.
“Bree, honey, you look so free when you come.” Lynette whispered, the breath hitting her ears and eliciting a terrific giggle.
“I’m serious. Beautiful, and so free.” Her words were sleepy and content, and as she lay her head back on the pillow her eyes closed. Bree leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. She waited for a moment till Lynette’s breathing deepened, and then slipped away, disentangling her legs as delicately as she could. She gathered her pants and underwear, then headed to the lounge to retrieve her twinset. Re-dressed and tidy, she shakily opened the front door. Turning, she cast her eyes up the stairs, and murmured three small words.
“I’m sorry, Lynette.”