Skirting the Issue
A fic which pertains to the Girly Uniform that Polly occasionally has to wear when doing something ceremonial and which, huge surprise, I know, contains explicit sex. (Er... The fic... Although technically the skirt, too, come to think of it... Um...)
Anyway. :-)
Polly/Mal.
AU (to my ficverse, at any rate. They're both still in the army).
Brief mention of Nanny Ogg.
Enjoy. :-)
***
Skirting the Issue
It was what passed for a typical day in Lancre town - Or so Polly assumed, this being her third day on guard duty outside the rented house that was the Borogravian Embassy - quiet, other than the short shower of fish that occurred late in the afternoon.
“This is normal?” Mal asked again, as she fished yet another sardine out of her uniform - this one had ended up in a jacket pocket.
“Apparently,” said Polly, trying ineffectually to brush fish scales off of her skirt. “Bloody dress uniform,” she grumbles. “Why I couldn’t just wear trousers I’ll never understand.”
“Because you look so damn pretty in a dress?” Mal suggested.
She dropped the struggling fish into the large bucket of water by her feet, letting it join a small-mouthed bass and two other sardines who were blissfully unaware that they were going to end up as dinner.
“Good thing I like the taste of fish, is all I’m saying,” she commented.
“Since when do you eat fish?” Polly asked. “Or anything solid, for that matter?”
“Did I say I ate them? I just like the taste.”
“Oh,” said Polly. “How do you know what- Oh.” She felt her own blood rush to her face, colouring as Mal’s meaning sank in.
She threw her fellow soldier a sharp look.
Mal, not surprisingly, smirked impishly.
“We’re supposed to be on guard duty,” Polly pointed out.
“Yes, sarge,” Mal responded, in a tone that wouldn’t have passed for meek and deferential even in a very dark room. “Although,” she went on. “One does have to wonder what we’re on guard duty against.”
Polly rolled her eyes.
“I mean,” Mal continued. “Are we guarding the embassy - such as it is - from… what? The local morris team? That little old lady who keeps wandering by and giving us the sauciest grin I’ve ever seen outside of your Aunt Hatty after her third glass of sherry?-”
“Possibly she’s grinning because she can hear what you’re saying, Mal.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Polly saw Mal smirk. Again.
“Highly unlikely, Old Chap,” Mal answered. “But good try.”
Polly sighed and examined her hands, which glittered fishily at her in the late afternoon sunlight. The two soldiers lapsed into silence. The sun sank lower in the sky, edging towards the horizon and the end of their unbearably boring turn on watch.
Eventually, a dog wandered half-heartedly down the road, pursued by a toddler of indeterminate gender. Polly followed them with her eyes until they were out of sight. Other than the rain of fish, it was the most exciting thing that had happened all day.
“I saw a play in Genua, once,” Mal volunteered, after a few more minutes of silence.
“About what?” Polly asked, glad to have a break in the monotony.
“Two soldiers,” Mal answered. “They were on guard duty together and one of them talked the other one to climax.”
“What??”
“One of them talked the other to climax. They were lovers-”
“Yes, I gathered that,” Polly cut in. “How did… I mean… Is that even possible?”
“Oh, sergeant,” Mal began, gleefully. “I thought you’d never-”
“No,” Polly protested, starting to blush again. “Mal? No.”
“Aren’t you just the teensiest bit curious as to whether or not it would work?”
“Oh, please...”
“Please, what, sergeant?” Polly could hear Mal’s grin without having to see it. “Why don’t you tell me what you want?”
“Mal!”
“I’m sure I could find a way to make you really glad to be wearing that skirt.”
Polly’s breath caught in her throat and her blush deepened. All the more so when she realized her colour wasn’t entirely due to embarrassment.
“You’re not serious.”
“Well, alright,” Mal conceded. “Given the crowd we’d probably generate, I can’t say that I’d do it right this minute,” although, here, she paused, thoughtfully. “That being said,” she continued. “If we were doing nights instead of days, I think I could definitely get away with it.”
Polly swallowed, staring straight ahead. She could feel the warmth spreading between her legs.
“I could run my tongue up your thigh,” Mal suggested, and Polly felt herself shiver.
This really isn’t fair, she thought, desperately. She risked a side-long glance at Mal, who was standing at perfect attention, staring straight ahead, even as she quietly detailed exactly what she could do once she got to the top of Polly’s thigh. Polly’s breath grew ragged at the description and she felt her nipples tighten painfully, chafing against the worn cotton of her shirt.
"I can see you're enjoying this," Mal commented, sounding deeply amused, but not only that. "Oh, remember the other night when I-"
Polly mentally put her fingers in her ears, trying very hard to ignore what Mal was saying. She remembered what Mal had done the other night, that trick with her tongue that felt so good Polly had bitten down on her pillow to muffle the sounds of her own pleasure. She really didn't need to be reliving - oh, gods - the way Mal had slipped her tongue inside Polly's body, touching her where nothing had every touched her before, and sucking on her swollen labia all the while, she really did not.
Polly brefly considered out-right ordering Mal to stop, but quickly decided that it was a stupid thing to be pulling rank over. Yes, that was it. It was a stupid thing to pull rank over. Nothing what-so-ever to do with the excited little flutters running through Polly’s stomach, and how they might go away if she made Mal stop talking. No. Nothing at all.
Polly shifted, increasingly aware of her own wetness, the way her thighs were growing slipperier by the minute as Mal told her, softly, exactly what she wanted to do to a part of Polly’s anatomy that, even now, was hot and oozing in readiness.
This is just cruel! she thought, and wasn’t entirely sure whether she meant Mal’s slow, measured discussion of which bits of Polly she wanted to be sucking on next, or the fact that she, Polly, couldn’t actually get Mal to do any of it yet.
Just wait ‘til I get you back quarters, she thought in frustration, and then realized just what she might have meant by that. She shivered, gripping a fold of her skirt tightly in her fist. Forcing herself to breath at a rate that at least approached ‘normal’, she prayed that their shift would be over soon.
Just as the setting sun was brushing the horizon, Polly heard the latch click in the door. To her immense relief - in one sense, anyway - Mal chose this moment to pause for breath. Presumably she’d heard the latch, too.
“Tea’s up,” one of their fellow soldiers informed them, as he stepped out to take Polly’s place.
“Thanks, private,” Polly answered, forcing her voice not to tremble. On the other side of the door, another private was relieving Mal of her position-
Oh, gods, Polly thought, as her insides twitched involuntarily. I can’t even think that without… guh... What the hell kind of a soldier am I, anyway?
A perfectly normal one, her brain supplied, cheerfully. Why else would the Solid Doves turn up near every battlefield?
She strode purposefully towards the cramped quarters that they were sharing with the other two guards, unfastening her jacket as she walked, far too aware of Mal, only a step behind her. Once inside the narrow room, Polly pushed the door closed, sliding the bolts home and turning.
“You are in so much-” but Mal stopped her with a kiss, and Polly couldn’t swallow the groan of pleasure that escaped her as her lips parted against Mal’s. Polly gripped Mal’s elbows and pulled her closer, shuddering as the length of Mal’s body pressed up against her own, pushing her back against the wood of the door. Polly clung to Mal, devouring her mouth, as Mal tangled her delicate fingers in Polly’s hair.
“…so much trouble,” Polly finished, faintly, breathlessly, when they finally came up, gasping, for air.
“I hoped you’d say that,” Mal murmured, huskily, bending to kiss Polly’s throat. She slid her hands up and over Polly’s aching breasts, making Polly whimper as Mal unfastened the buttons of her shirt.
Polly closed her eyes, letting the sensations of Mal’s lips, her tongue, her light, eager fingers, take over. When Mal’s mouth closed around her nipple, Polly bit back a moan, her hips arching involuntarily. She pulled Mal back to her, claiming her mouth hungrily, working the button of Mal’s jacket eager to reach inside.
Mal’s hips ground against Polly’s, brushing against her through the fabric of her skirt, and pleasure lanced through Polly’s body like lightening.
Mal slid her hands down, and down, over Polly’s hips, pressing closer.
“You didn’t really think I’d say all those things and not follow through, did you?” she murmured against Polly’s mouth, her eager hands sliding greedily over Polly’s thighs.
Polly shivered under Mal’s hands.
“You could have just been teasing-” she began, as Mal moved to her throat. “Oh, gods,” she gasped, as Mal slipped one hand inside her shirt, pressing closer, rolling Polly’s tight nipple between her fingers, making her whimper with need. She pressed her thigh between Mal’s legs, arching against her. “Please,” she whispered, running her fingers through Mal’s hair. Mal moved lower, sucking Polly’s nipples, one after the other, and circling them with her firm tongue. She moved lower, still, shifting against Polly and sinking to her knees.
Polly felt her skirts being lifted, Mal’s gentle hands guiding her trembling legs further apart. Polly caught her breath, sharply, at the touch of Mal’s fingers as they traced lightly along her thighs. She thought her knees would buckle when she felt the softness of Mal’s lips on the inside of her knee and her whole body quivered desperately as Mal’s clever tongue slid slowly over the already slick flesh of Polly’s inner thigh. When Mal’s mouth, warm and moist, enveloped her at last, Polly couldn’t hold back the whimper of need that escaped her. She tilted her hips, offering her body more fully, tangling her fingers in Mal’s hair and pressing her closer. Mal lapped at Polly’s sodden, tender flesh, her firm, sure tongue circling and stroking, until Polly was gasping, trembling, aching for release.
“Please,” she whispered, squirming against Mal’s mouth. “Uh-huh!”
Mal sucked gently, inexorably, at Polly’s swollen clit, coaxing her higher, higher still, until at last Polly shuddered, her muscles clenching hard, as she tumbled over the edge of her climax.
Mal kissed Polly softly, between her trembling legs, drawing out her rippling aftershocks.
“I think,” Polly panted, even as she sank to the ground. “I think I need to sit down now.” She leaned her back against the door and regarded Mal, whose hands were, Polly noticed almost absently, still buried under the heavy fabric of her skirt.
Mal raised an eyebrow. Under Polly’s skirt, her fingers traced, light and teasing, over Polly’s thighs until Polly, who hadn’t even caught her breath yet, felt it grow ragged again at the rekindling of her desire.
“So,” Mal murmured, leaning close, her lips brushing Polly’s ear. “Are you still upset about having to wear a skirt?””
“Not- not right at the moment,” Polly gasped, conceding.
Mal kissed her softly on the temple.
“Does that mean I’m forgiven?”
“Maybe,” Polly answered, shivering as Mal’s hands crept higher. “What’ll you do if I say yes?”
Polly could feel the curve of Mal’s mouth as she smiled.
“I’m sure I could find some way to thank you,” Mal answered, kissing Polly’s jaw, then her throat.
Polly pulled Mal all the closer, running one hand eagerly over Mal’s shirtfront.
“Mmm,” she murmured, toying with Mal’s buttons. “I like the sound of that.”
***
Well? Comments? Nits? Crits? (Anything?) :-)
- TTFN,
- Amazon. :-)
Anyway. :-)
Polly/Mal.
AU (to my ficverse, at any rate. They're both still in the army).
Brief mention of Nanny Ogg.
Enjoy. :-)
***
Skirting the Issue
It was what passed for a typical day in Lancre town - Or so Polly assumed, this being her third day on guard duty outside the rented house that was the Borogravian Embassy - quiet, other than the short shower of fish that occurred late in the afternoon.
“This is normal?” Mal asked again, as she fished yet another sardine out of her uniform - this one had ended up in a jacket pocket.
“Apparently,” said Polly, trying ineffectually to brush fish scales off of her skirt. “Bloody dress uniform,” she grumbles. “Why I couldn’t just wear trousers I’ll never understand.”
“Because you look so damn pretty in a dress?” Mal suggested.
She dropped the struggling fish into the large bucket of water by her feet, letting it join a small-mouthed bass and two other sardines who were blissfully unaware that they were going to end up as dinner.
“Good thing I like the taste of fish, is all I’m saying,” she commented.
“Since when do you eat fish?” Polly asked. “Or anything solid, for that matter?”
“Did I say I ate them? I just like the taste.”
“Oh,” said Polly. “How do you know what- Oh.” She felt her own blood rush to her face, colouring as Mal’s meaning sank in.
She threw her fellow soldier a sharp look.
Mal, not surprisingly, smirked impishly.
“We’re supposed to be on guard duty,” Polly pointed out.
“Yes, sarge,” Mal responded, in a tone that wouldn’t have passed for meek and deferential even in a very dark room. “Although,” she went on. “One does have to wonder what we’re on guard duty against.”
Polly rolled her eyes.
“I mean,” Mal continued. “Are we guarding the embassy - such as it is - from… what? The local morris team? That little old lady who keeps wandering by and giving us the sauciest grin I’ve ever seen outside of your Aunt Hatty after her third glass of sherry?-”
“Possibly she’s grinning because she can hear what you’re saying, Mal.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Polly saw Mal smirk. Again.
“Highly unlikely, Old Chap,” Mal answered. “But good try.”
Polly sighed and examined her hands, which glittered fishily at her in the late afternoon sunlight. The two soldiers lapsed into silence. The sun sank lower in the sky, edging towards the horizon and the end of their unbearably boring turn on watch.
Eventually, a dog wandered half-heartedly down the road, pursued by a toddler of indeterminate gender. Polly followed them with her eyes until they were out of sight. Other than the rain of fish, it was the most exciting thing that had happened all day.
“I saw a play in Genua, once,” Mal volunteered, after a few more minutes of silence.
“About what?” Polly asked, glad to have a break in the monotony.
“Two soldiers,” Mal answered. “They were on guard duty together and one of them talked the other one to climax.”
“What??”
“One of them talked the other to climax. They were lovers-”
“Yes, I gathered that,” Polly cut in. “How did… I mean… Is that even possible?”
“Oh, sergeant,” Mal began, gleefully. “I thought you’d never-”
“No,” Polly protested, starting to blush again. “Mal? No.”
“Aren’t you just the teensiest bit curious as to whether or not it would work?”
“Oh, please...”
“Please, what, sergeant?” Polly could hear Mal’s grin without having to see it. “Why don’t you tell me what you want?”
“Mal!”
“I’m sure I could find a way to make you really glad to be wearing that skirt.”
Polly’s breath caught in her throat and her blush deepened. All the more so when she realized her colour wasn’t entirely due to embarrassment.
“You’re not serious.”
“Well, alright,” Mal conceded. “Given the crowd we’d probably generate, I can’t say that I’d do it right this minute,” although, here, she paused, thoughtfully. “That being said,” she continued. “If we were doing nights instead of days, I think I could definitely get away with it.”
Polly swallowed, staring straight ahead. She could feel the warmth spreading between her legs.
“I could run my tongue up your thigh,” Mal suggested, and Polly felt herself shiver.
This really isn’t fair, she thought, desperately. She risked a side-long glance at Mal, who was standing at perfect attention, staring straight ahead, even as she quietly detailed exactly what she could do once she got to the top of Polly’s thigh. Polly’s breath grew ragged at the description and she felt her nipples tighten painfully, chafing against the worn cotton of her shirt.
"I can see you're enjoying this," Mal commented, sounding deeply amused, but not only that. "Oh, remember the other night when I-"
Polly mentally put her fingers in her ears, trying very hard to ignore what Mal was saying. She remembered what Mal had done the other night, that trick with her tongue that felt so good Polly had bitten down on her pillow to muffle the sounds of her own pleasure. She really didn't need to be reliving - oh, gods - the way Mal had slipped her tongue inside Polly's body, touching her where nothing had every touched her before, and sucking on her swollen labia all the while, she really did not.
Polly brefly considered out-right ordering Mal to stop, but quickly decided that it was a stupid thing to be pulling rank over. Yes, that was it. It was a stupid thing to pull rank over. Nothing what-so-ever to do with the excited little flutters running through Polly’s stomach, and how they might go away if she made Mal stop talking. No. Nothing at all.
Polly shifted, increasingly aware of her own wetness, the way her thighs were growing slipperier by the minute as Mal told her, softly, exactly what she wanted to do to a part of Polly’s anatomy that, even now, was hot and oozing in readiness.
This is just cruel! she thought, and wasn’t entirely sure whether she meant Mal’s slow, measured discussion of which bits of Polly she wanted to be sucking on next, or the fact that she, Polly, couldn’t actually get Mal to do any of it yet.
Just wait ‘til I get you back quarters, she thought in frustration, and then realized just what she might have meant by that. She shivered, gripping a fold of her skirt tightly in her fist. Forcing herself to breath at a rate that at least approached ‘normal’, she prayed that their shift would be over soon.
Just as the setting sun was brushing the horizon, Polly heard the latch click in the door. To her immense relief - in one sense, anyway - Mal chose this moment to pause for breath. Presumably she’d heard the latch, too.
“Tea’s up,” one of their fellow soldiers informed them, as he stepped out to take Polly’s place.
“Thanks, private,” Polly answered, forcing her voice not to tremble. On the other side of the door, another private was relieving Mal of her position-
Oh, gods, Polly thought, as her insides twitched involuntarily. I can’t even think that without… guh... What the hell kind of a soldier am I, anyway?
A perfectly normal one, her brain supplied, cheerfully. Why else would the Solid Doves turn up near every battlefield?
She strode purposefully towards the cramped quarters that they were sharing with the other two guards, unfastening her jacket as she walked, far too aware of Mal, only a step behind her. Once inside the narrow room, Polly pushed the door closed, sliding the bolts home and turning.
“You are in so much-” but Mal stopped her with a kiss, and Polly couldn’t swallow the groan of pleasure that escaped her as her lips parted against Mal’s. Polly gripped Mal’s elbows and pulled her closer, shuddering as the length of Mal’s body pressed up against her own, pushing her back against the wood of the door. Polly clung to Mal, devouring her mouth, as Mal tangled her delicate fingers in Polly’s hair.
“…so much trouble,” Polly finished, faintly, breathlessly, when they finally came up, gasping, for air.
“I hoped you’d say that,” Mal murmured, huskily, bending to kiss Polly’s throat. She slid her hands up and over Polly’s aching breasts, making Polly whimper as Mal unfastened the buttons of her shirt.
Polly closed her eyes, letting the sensations of Mal’s lips, her tongue, her light, eager fingers, take over. When Mal’s mouth closed around her nipple, Polly bit back a moan, her hips arching involuntarily. She pulled Mal back to her, claiming her mouth hungrily, working the button of Mal’s jacket eager to reach inside.
Mal’s hips ground against Polly’s, brushing against her through the fabric of her skirt, and pleasure lanced through Polly’s body like lightening.
Mal slid her hands down, and down, over Polly’s hips, pressing closer.
“You didn’t really think I’d say all those things and not follow through, did you?” she murmured against Polly’s mouth, her eager hands sliding greedily over Polly’s thighs.
Polly shivered under Mal’s hands.
“You could have just been teasing-” she began, as Mal moved to her throat. “Oh, gods,” she gasped, as Mal slipped one hand inside her shirt, pressing closer, rolling Polly’s tight nipple between her fingers, making her whimper with need. She pressed her thigh between Mal’s legs, arching against her. “Please,” she whispered, running her fingers through Mal’s hair. Mal moved lower, sucking Polly’s nipples, one after the other, and circling them with her firm tongue. She moved lower, still, shifting against Polly and sinking to her knees.
Polly felt her skirts being lifted, Mal’s gentle hands guiding her trembling legs further apart. Polly caught her breath, sharply, at the touch of Mal’s fingers as they traced lightly along her thighs. She thought her knees would buckle when she felt the softness of Mal’s lips on the inside of her knee and her whole body quivered desperately as Mal’s clever tongue slid slowly over the already slick flesh of Polly’s inner thigh. When Mal’s mouth, warm and moist, enveloped her at last, Polly couldn’t hold back the whimper of need that escaped her. She tilted her hips, offering her body more fully, tangling her fingers in Mal’s hair and pressing her closer. Mal lapped at Polly’s sodden, tender flesh, her firm, sure tongue circling and stroking, until Polly was gasping, trembling, aching for release.
“Please,” she whispered, squirming against Mal’s mouth. “Uh-huh!”
Mal sucked gently, inexorably, at Polly’s swollen clit, coaxing her higher, higher still, until at last Polly shuddered, her muscles clenching hard, as she tumbled over the edge of her climax.
Mal kissed Polly softly, between her trembling legs, drawing out her rippling aftershocks.
“I think,” Polly panted, even as she sank to the ground. “I think I need to sit down now.” She leaned her back against the door and regarded Mal, whose hands were, Polly noticed almost absently, still buried under the heavy fabric of her skirt.
Mal raised an eyebrow. Under Polly’s skirt, her fingers traced, light and teasing, over Polly’s thighs until Polly, who hadn’t even caught her breath yet, felt it grow ragged again at the rekindling of her desire.
“So,” Mal murmured, leaning close, her lips brushing Polly’s ear. “Are you still upset about having to wear a skirt?””
“Not- not right at the moment,” Polly gasped, conceding.
Mal kissed her softly on the temple.
“Does that mean I’m forgiven?”
“Maybe,” Polly answered, shivering as Mal’s hands crept higher. “What’ll you do if I say yes?”
Polly could feel the curve of Mal’s mouth as she smiled.
“I’m sure I could find some way to thank you,” Mal answered, kissing Polly’s jaw, then her throat.
Polly pulled Mal all the closer, running one hand eagerly over Mal’s shirtfront.
“Mmm,” she murmured, toying with Mal’s buttons. “I like the sound of that.”
***
Well? Comments? Nits? Crits? (Anything?) :-)
- TTFN,
- Amazon. :-)