FIC: "For Her" [RPF; Lea Michele, Dianna Agron]
Title: For Her
Fandom: Glee/RPF
Pairing: Lea Michele/Dianna Agron
Rating: Mature so, so very Mature! Angst is good, angst is great but too much makes the Baby Jesus cry!
Word Count: 1236
Summary: She’ll do anything for her.
Disclaimer: While the characters are based upon real people, this is a work of fiction intended for fun and not profit.
**
“Lea..” she whispers, almost whimpers. “Please.”
The answer is, of course, yes. Like you could ever say no to her. But you’re not above making her beg. Not when she gazes at you with pleading and hooded eyes, lower lip nervously rolling between her teeth because she really does think you might say no.
“For you,” you smile, kissing her on the nose. “Anything.”
You go into the bathroom, leaving her alone. The outfit is simple - low-cut and sleeveless blouse, jeans, boots. The jeans are black, tight but not too tight. It’s what you’re wearing under them that matters. The harness fits perfectly, like a second skin, around your hips. You take the shaft, the one Dianna chose - thick and black - and tuck it against your thigh. It’s a warm LA night but you’ll have to wear a jacket. The jeans may be black but one good glance and it’s obvious what you’re wearing underneath. And this is for her, not everyone else.
“Nice,” she purrs as you exit the bathroom and you think about taking her right then and there, with her golden hair spilling off her shoulders, in her light summer dress.
“Ready?” you ask, and she blinks at you like she’s forgotten the question.
**
The cab driver gets a bit of a show as she nibbles on your neck in the back seat, caresses the bulge in your jeans with her fingers and, God, it’s like you can actually feel it twitching between your legs.
You take her to the restaurant in Venice she’s been dying to go to. The atmosphere is quiet, romantic. The food’s good even if you’ve had better. But that doesn’t really matter. Not with the way she’s looking at you across the table, the way your hands are connected, her thumb caressing the skin between your thumb and forefinger.
You grasp her fingers a little tighter, mouthing the words ‘I love you’. Her head bows, eyes obscured by the hair falling over her face. She wants to say the words back but doesn’t because she might burst into tears if she does. Because of this thing you do for her. The thing she loves but never asked anyone before.
**
The two of you are on the beach, arms around each other’s waist, her hand in your back pocket. The surf’s warm as it dances over your wet feet. And the two of you walk forever, luxuriating yourselves in this moment because, lately and due to the success of the show, these moments have become fewer and fewer between.
Under the pier and, already, her body’s warming, shivering in anticipation. Back to a post and she’s on you, kissing you hungrily and urgently. You unzip your jacket, open it because you want to feel her against you with one less barrier. Her nipples are hard and rubbing against your breasts. She mewls into your mouth, hips grinding against yours, against the stiffness between your legs.
You place your hands on her shoulders. You add not so subtle pressure - lower - and she resists because this is part of her game, her kink.
“C’mon, do it for me,” you whine. She shakes her head even though you know if you were to reach between her legs she’d be as wet as the ocean behind her. Her hands are on your shoulders, like she’s trying to back away. You cup her face with your hands.
“Please baby,” you say with a tone that’s both begging and singing. And she exhales a breath like she’s about to come undone. “Please.”
She lowers. You widen your stance, jut out your hips because the game’s over. She’s pulling at your belt, yanking your jeans down your hips and pulling it out. You give her the condom in your jacket pocket and her fingers tremble as she unwraps it.
Then, she looks up at you with not so coquettish eyes, fingers wrapping around the base of the shaft. “Say please for me.”
For her.
“Please.”
She moans as she takes it into her mouth, all the way down to the base and back up again. Something twitches hard in your gut and your legs go a bit rubbery because, fuck, it’s almost like you felt that. You reach down, cup the side of her face with your palm just to feel a little more of her warmth, a little more of this connection between you.
She’s good. So good. And you’re rolling your hips a little more because the way she’s tugging rubs the harness against your clit.
“Lea, talk dirty to me.”
The hand on her face moves to her head, threading in her hair, tugging just a little bit. Because, yeah, you can be *that* person for her. You can talk dirty while she sucks you off. So you say the words - filthy, dirty, nasty - and she’s moaning so loud the vibrations rumble deep between your legs.
You will your eyes to stay open, to stay locked on hers and that mouth doing the most amazing things to your body. But your eye catches movement, and now you’re looking at Dianna’s hand - the other one - the one underneath that summer dress and between her legs. She’s never done *that* before. It sends you careening over the edge. You become one, big orgasmic, fireworks exploding, body spasming, toe-curling cliché.
Your legs turn to jelly. Her arms are suddenly around you, holding you up and against the post.
“Fuck.. Baby.. Jesus..”
She giggles in your ear. “Fuck baby Jesus? That’s a bit kinky. Even for you.” She doesn’t wait for you to respond, fingertips under your chin, lifting up your face. “I love you.”
“I..” you stammer, licking your lips. “I don’t think I can walk.”
“Aw, that’s too bad. I was really looking forward to going home and letting you..” she leans forward, purrs into your ear. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, lids fluttering wildly. She wants you to do *that* for her.
It’s like you’ve been zapped by lightening. Because the energy tanks that were on empty like a moment ago are completely full and bubbling over. You grab her hand by the wrist, legs already moving towards the shore.
“Let’s go!”
Laughing, she yanks back on your arm. You stare back at her all ‘Why you stallin’ the sexing’, woman?’.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?”
You look down. “Shit!”
She’s laughing even harder now, watching and waiting as you hurriedly tuck the ‘Lea-nator’ back into your jeans. “It’s not funny,” you mumble with a smile on your face. “Somebody could have seen.”
**
The two of you are standing on the corner, waiting for another cab to drive by. You’re standing face to face, arms loosely around each other’s waists. Kissing. Just.. kissing.
She pulls back, eyes still closed dreamily, tracing the side of your nose with the tip of hers. “Tell me again,” she whispers softly.
“Tell you what?”
“That you love me.”
She is your weakness. The kind that makes you stronger. The piece of your soul you never knew you were missing until she came into your life and made you complete.
And how can you say ‘no’ to that?
So you tilt your head, gaze into her eyes and say the words she wants to hear. For her and for you.
“I love you.”
END
Fandom: Glee/RPF
Pairing: Lea Michele/Dianna Agron
Rating: Mature so, so very Mature! Angst is good, angst is great but too much makes the Baby Jesus cry!
Word Count: 1236
Summary: She’ll do anything for her.
Disclaimer: While the characters are based upon real people, this is a work of fiction intended for fun and not profit.
**
“Lea..” she whispers, almost whimpers. “Please.”
The answer is, of course, yes. Like you could ever say no to her. But you’re not above making her beg. Not when she gazes at you with pleading and hooded eyes, lower lip nervously rolling between her teeth because she really does think you might say no.
“For you,” you smile, kissing her on the nose. “Anything.”
You go into the bathroom, leaving her alone. The outfit is simple - low-cut and sleeveless blouse, jeans, boots. The jeans are black, tight but not too tight. It’s what you’re wearing under them that matters. The harness fits perfectly, like a second skin, around your hips. You take the shaft, the one Dianna chose - thick and black - and tuck it against your thigh. It’s a warm LA night but you’ll have to wear a jacket. The jeans may be black but one good glance and it’s obvious what you’re wearing underneath. And this is for her, not everyone else.
“Nice,” she purrs as you exit the bathroom and you think about taking her right then and there, with her golden hair spilling off her shoulders, in her light summer dress.
“Ready?” you ask, and she blinks at you like she’s forgotten the question.
**
The cab driver gets a bit of a show as she nibbles on your neck in the back seat, caresses the bulge in your jeans with her fingers and, God, it’s like you can actually feel it twitching between your legs.
You take her to the restaurant in Venice she’s been dying to go to. The atmosphere is quiet, romantic. The food’s good even if you’ve had better. But that doesn’t really matter. Not with the way she’s looking at you across the table, the way your hands are connected, her thumb caressing the skin between your thumb and forefinger.
You grasp her fingers a little tighter, mouthing the words ‘I love you’. Her head bows, eyes obscured by the hair falling over her face. She wants to say the words back but doesn’t because she might burst into tears if she does. Because of this thing you do for her. The thing she loves but never asked anyone before.
**
The two of you are on the beach, arms around each other’s waist, her hand in your back pocket. The surf’s warm as it dances over your wet feet. And the two of you walk forever, luxuriating yourselves in this moment because, lately and due to the success of the show, these moments have become fewer and fewer between.
Under the pier and, already, her body’s warming, shivering in anticipation. Back to a post and she’s on you, kissing you hungrily and urgently. You unzip your jacket, open it because you want to feel her against you with one less barrier. Her nipples are hard and rubbing against your breasts. She mewls into your mouth, hips grinding against yours, against the stiffness between your legs.
You place your hands on her shoulders. You add not so subtle pressure - lower - and she resists because this is part of her game, her kink.
“C’mon, do it for me,” you whine. She shakes her head even though you know if you were to reach between her legs she’d be as wet as the ocean behind her. Her hands are on your shoulders, like she’s trying to back away. You cup her face with your hands.
“Please baby,” you say with a tone that’s both begging and singing. And she exhales a breath like she’s about to come undone. “Please.”
She lowers. You widen your stance, jut out your hips because the game’s over. She’s pulling at your belt, yanking your jeans down your hips and pulling it out. You give her the condom in your jacket pocket and her fingers tremble as she unwraps it.
Then, she looks up at you with not so coquettish eyes, fingers wrapping around the base of the shaft. “Say please for me.”
For her.
“Please.”
She moans as she takes it into her mouth, all the way down to the base and back up again. Something twitches hard in your gut and your legs go a bit rubbery because, fuck, it’s almost like you felt that. You reach down, cup the side of her face with your palm just to feel a little more of her warmth, a little more of this connection between you.
She’s good. So good. And you’re rolling your hips a little more because the way she’s tugging rubs the harness against your clit.
“Lea, talk dirty to me.”
The hand on her face moves to her head, threading in her hair, tugging just a little bit. Because, yeah, you can be *that* person for her. You can talk dirty while she sucks you off. So you say the words - filthy, dirty, nasty - and she’s moaning so loud the vibrations rumble deep between your legs.
You will your eyes to stay open, to stay locked on hers and that mouth doing the most amazing things to your body. But your eye catches movement, and now you’re looking at Dianna’s hand - the other one - the one underneath that summer dress and between her legs. She’s never done *that* before. It sends you careening over the edge. You become one, big orgasmic, fireworks exploding, body spasming, toe-curling cliché.
Your legs turn to jelly. Her arms are suddenly around you, holding you up and against the post.
“Fuck.. Baby.. Jesus..”
She giggles in your ear. “Fuck baby Jesus? That’s a bit kinky. Even for you.” She doesn’t wait for you to respond, fingertips under your chin, lifting up your face. “I love you.”
“I..” you stammer, licking your lips. “I don’t think I can walk.”
“Aw, that’s too bad. I was really looking forward to going home and letting you..” she leans forward, purrs into your ear. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, lids fluttering wildly. She wants you to do *that* for her.
It’s like you’ve been zapped by lightening. Because the energy tanks that were on empty like a moment ago are completely full and bubbling over. You grab her hand by the wrist, legs already moving towards the shore.
“Let’s go!”
Laughing, she yanks back on your arm. You stare back at her all ‘Why you stallin’ the sexing’, woman?’.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?”
You look down. “Shit!”
She’s laughing even harder now, watching and waiting as you hurriedly tuck the ‘Lea-nator’ back into your jeans. “It’s not funny,” you mumble with a smile on your face. “Somebody could have seen.”
**
The two of you are standing on the corner, waiting for another cab to drive by. You’re standing face to face, arms loosely around each other’s waists. Kissing. Just.. kissing.
She pulls back, eyes still closed dreamily, tracing the side of your nose with the tip of hers. “Tell me again,” she whispers softly.
“Tell you what?”
“That you love me.”
She is your weakness. The kind that makes you stronger. The piece of your soul you never knew you were missing until she came into your life and made you complete.
And how can you say ‘no’ to that?
So you tilt your head, gaze into her eyes and say the words she wants to hear. For her and for you.
“I love you.”
END