Walking In
Rating: R
Fandom: Runaways
Characters: Dale and Stacey Yorkes, Gertrude Yorkes
Warnings: Sex
Disclaimer: This is me owning nothing.
Summary: She never wanted to walk in on her parents. Everyone's worst nightmare.
"Stacey," Dale called. "Darling? Where are you?"
Today, Stacey and Dale Yorkes will learn a very important lesson.
"In here, dear," Stacey called back from the living room.
Today they will learn to always check their calendars…
He stepped out of the kitchen and laid a hand on her shoulder with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "Are you busy?"
And today they will learn to always lock the door.
He picked her up, not waiting for her answer, and carried her to the bedroom. He kicked it shut behind him and tossed her onto the bed.
"Dale," she scolded. "It’s the middle of the day!"
"So? No one’s coming by. Gert is at school," he pointed out. "We have no risk of intrusion and I know how you love being able to see."
She gave him a little push. He grinned and leaned over her.
"Dale, I’m pretty sure there’s something important about today," she said, scooting away from him with a reluctantly playful smile.
"I don’t think so," he replied. He crawled onto the bed and followed her across it.
Stacey giggled. "But darling," she drawled, dragging out the words as long as she could without feeling a fool. Her feet hit the floor. "It’s just not proper."
He vaulted off the bed and chased her around to the other side.
"Who cares? We’re married. It’s not like we’re going to be arrested or kibitzing in the back of the car," Dale said, trying to sound persuasive, but he could only manage largely devious and mildly petulant. "And anyway, improper is how we met. Think of it as… revisiting old times."
She shrieked and dodged his hand.
"Yes, and it’s also how Gert was conceived. But this," she waved a finger at him. "You planned this."
He grabbed her and pressed her into the nearest wall. "What if I did?"
She was about to tell him it wasn’t proper again, but lost that train of thought when his lips descended on hers, and his tongue slipped into her mouth. He wrapped one arm around her waist and cupped her head with the other. Hers found his chest and snaked around his neck.
"Still think it’s a bad idea?" he mumbled against her lips. She dragged him into another kiss in response.
He released her skull in favor of hooking his fingers at her collar and working the buttons of her shirt loose. He made short work of them, unhooked her brassier and backed up a step to help her out of them, stopping halfway when she grabbed his wrist.
"Dale," she protested, albeit half-heartedly.
There was something a bit too appealing in a disturbing sort of way about the sight of his wife half-dressed and disheveled. She was breathing a bit heavier. Her lips were plump and red, and her eyelids were heavy. He ran a finger over her lower lip. She bit the tip of it lightly. He retracted it and kissed her instead.
"Gert," she mumbled. "There’s something about Gert today and I cant think of what it is."
Dale frowned. The niggling sensation at the back of his mind worried him a bit, so he dashed his plans for an hour of foreplay, reaching to remove her clothes and pressing his lips to her skin. She moaned and clung to the wall and let him do as he pleased.
He pulled her slacks off, then her underwear, and ran his fingers into her auburn curls stroking until she was wet and hot and melting in his hands.
She grabbed the edge of his sweater as he stood up, yanking it off of him and scrabbled with his buttons. She couldn’t get her fingers to work quite right, though. He slowed her hands down, unbuttoning the shirt one at a time with one hand, holding both of hers with the other. His sense of urgency rose as she reached for his pants. They were down around his ankles, suddenly, and he found himself kicking them off, tongue down Stacey’s throat, unapologetic, unceremonious.
He pushed her face down on the bed and pushed into her. She moaned loudly, spreading her legs wider. He thrust into her few times before pulling her on top of him and sitting u.
He pushed her knees further away from each other with his own, bit down on her shoulder. She yelped and reached to lace her fingers through his hair. Her back arched. He released her shoulder, leaving a nicely colorful mark on it.
"Lean forward," he whispered.
She hesitated for a second. He wrapped his arms securely around her waist and she leaned.
He moaned and thrust into her, pushing in too deep and too hard and she knew she’d regret it later, but just then, she really didn’t care. Her hands convulsed on his wrists. He pushed harder, faster. She threw her head back, body tensing, desperate wail drowned out by her daughter’s screams.
Wait. What?
"Gert?"
The pair gaped at her from the bed. Gert ran from the room, slamming the door behind her.
They separated, horrified, grabbing their clothes.
"Isn’t she home a bit early?" Dale asked, annoyed and embarrassed.
"I told you there was something! It’s a half-day!"
Dale paused to bury his face in his hands and vowed to always check the locks. They hurried out, hoping to explain.
Fandom: Runaways
Characters: Dale and Stacey Yorkes, Gertrude Yorkes
Warnings: Sex
Disclaimer: This is me owning nothing.
Summary: She never wanted to walk in on her parents. Everyone's worst nightmare.
"Stacey," Dale called. "Darling? Where are you?"
Today, Stacey and Dale Yorkes will learn a very important lesson.
"In here, dear," Stacey called back from the living room.
Today they will learn to always check their calendars…
He stepped out of the kitchen and laid a hand on her shoulder with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "Are you busy?"
And today they will learn to always lock the door.
He picked her up, not waiting for her answer, and carried her to the bedroom. He kicked it shut behind him and tossed her onto the bed.
"Dale," she scolded. "It’s the middle of the day!"
"So? No one’s coming by. Gert is at school," he pointed out. "We have no risk of intrusion and I know how you love being able to see."
She gave him a little push. He grinned and leaned over her.
"Dale, I’m pretty sure there’s something important about today," she said, scooting away from him with a reluctantly playful smile.
"I don’t think so," he replied. He crawled onto the bed and followed her across it.
Stacey giggled. "But darling," she drawled, dragging out the words as long as she could without feeling a fool. Her feet hit the floor. "It’s just not proper."
He vaulted off the bed and chased her around to the other side.
"Who cares? We’re married. It’s not like we’re going to be arrested or kibitzing in the back of the car," Dale said, trying to sound persuasive, but he could only manage largely devious and mildly petulant. "And anyway, improper is how we met. Think of it as… revisiting old times."
She shrieked and dodged his hand.
"Yes, and it’s also how Gert was conceived. But this," she waved a finger at him. "You planned this."
He grabbed her and pressed her into the nearest wall. "What if I did?"
She was about to tell him it wasn’t proper again, but lost that train of thought when his lips descended on hers, and his tongue slipped into her mouth. He wrapped one arm around her waist and cupped her head with the other. Hers found his chest and snaked around his neck.
"Still think it’s a bad idea?" he mumbled against her lips. She dragged him into another kiss in response.
He released her skull in favor of hooking his fingers at her collar and working the buttons of her shirt loose. He made short work of them, unhooked her brassier and backed up a step to help her out of them, stopping halfway when she grabbed his wrist.
"Dale," she protested, albeit half-heartedly.
There was something a bit too appealing in a disturbing sort of way about the sight of his wife half-dressed and disheveled. She was breathing a bit heavier. Her lips were plump and red, and her eyelids were heavy. He ran a finger over her lower lip. She bit the tip of it lightly. He retracted it and kissed her instead.
"Gert," she mumbled. "There’s something about Gert today and I cant think of what it is."
Dale frowned. The niggling sensation at the back of his mind worried him a bit, so he dashed his plans for an hour of foreplay, reaching to remove her clothes and pressing his lips to her skin. She moaned and clung to the wall and let him do as he pleased.
He pulled her slacks off, then her underwear, and ran his fingers into her auburn curls stroking until she was wet and hot and melting in his hands.
She grabbed the edge of his sweater as he stood up, yanking it off of him and scrabbled with his buttons. She couldn’t get her fingers to work quite right, though. He slowed her hands down, unbuttoning the shirt one at a time with one hand, holding both of hers with the other. His sense of urgency rose as she reached for his pants. They were down around his ankles, suddenly, and he found himself kicking them off, tongue down Stacey’s throat, unapologetic, unceremonious.
He pushed her face down on the bed and pushed into her. She moaned loudly, spreading her legs wider. He thrust into her few times before pulling her on top of him and sitting u.
He pushed her knees further away from each other with his own, bit down on her shoulder. She yelped and reached to lace her fingers through his hair. Her back arched. He released her shoulder, leaving a nicely colorful mark on it.
"Lean forward," he whispered.
She hesitated for a second. He wrapped his arms securely around her waist and she leaned.
He moaned and thrust into her, pushing in too deep and too hard and she knew she’d regret it later, but just then, she really didn’t care. Her hands convulsed on his wrists. He pushed harder, faster. She threw her head back, body tensing, desperate wail drowned out by her daughter’s screams.
Wait. What?
"Gert?"
The pair gaped at her from the bed. Gert ran from the room, slamming the door behind her.
They separated, horrified, grabbing their clothes.
"Isn’t she home a bit early?" Dale asked, annoyed and embarrassed.
"I told you there was something! It’s a half-day!"
Dale paused to bury his face in his hands and vowed to always check the locks. They hurried out, hoping to explain.