Fic -- Fair Play
Title: Fair Play
Fandom: Dollhouse
Characters/Pairing: Adelle DeWitt/Laurence Dominic
Rating: PG-13, for sexual situations
It is after midnight, and Laurence Dominic is more leaning than standing, pinned against Adelle DeWitt’s desk by the owner of that piece of furniture.
“It was quite irresponsible of you,” Adelle lectures, unknotting his tie in a few brisk, businesslike movements. “The caretakers all saw. The other Actives had to be wiped almost immediately to calm them down.” With the freed ends of the tie, she pulls him down for a long, brutal kiss.
Laurence has known for months that their visions for the agency were drifting apart. He thought, at the outset, that he and Adelle were both in it for profit, and as such all his efforts have been aimed at keeping the Dollhouse running smoothly, securely, and secretly. Sometimes his temper rebels against this increasingly thankless task.
Also increasing is the frequency of these encounters, after the Actives have been put to sleep and the staff has disappeared, which Laurence refuses to give any further name.
“Really, Mr. Dominic,” says Adelle, her voice infuriatingly calm for someone sitting on top of him, just finished meticulously unbuttoning his shirt and now moving on to his belt, “what could you possibly have hoped to accomplish?”
Laurence, now flat on his back on the desk, takes a few strained breaths and swallows audibly. “It wasn’t exactly -- a matter of accomplishing something.”
She leaves the lights in the office on at these times, the blinds on the windows open. Laurence knows that the panes are one-way glass, but it still makes him feel uncomfortably exposed. That is, of course, exactly why Adelle does it.
“You simply needed to take your aggression out on something,” she guesses, leaning down to bite his neck, not hard enough to draw blood but hard enough to hurt. Whispering, she continues, “And you were confident that Echo wouldn’t remember long enough to mind.”
One would think, given her attitude about it, that he hit a queen, instead of a mindless puppet.
“Something like that,” Laurence gasps. Her preternatural cool, he knows from experience, will eventually melt away, but it will be long after he has any reason to gloat about it.
“I didn’t know you had any aggression in you,” she says, her voice mocking. “You certainly haven’t shown me any of it. I’ve found all our exchanges lacking a certain -- spark on your part.”
He realizes, then, what she’s been expecting of him all this time. He manages to meet her eyes, flashing a questioning expression. Slowly, her lips curl into a smile.
“If you’d only asked,” he says, reaching up to grip her upper arms.
Later, as they share some of the refreshments meant for the clients, Adelle says, “Now, wasn’t that far more satisfying than wasting all that feistiness on someone who can’t fight back?”
Fandom: Dollhouse
Characters/Pairing: Adelle DeWitt/Laurence Dominic
Rating: PG-13, for sexual situations
It is after midnight, and Laurence Dominic is more leaning than standing, pinned against Adelle DeWitt’s desk by the owner of that piece of furniture.
“It was quite irresponsible of you,” Adelle lectures, unknotting his tie in a few brisk, businesslike movements. “The caretakers all saw. The other Actives had to be wiped almost immediately to calm them down.” With the freed ends of the tie, she pulls him down for a long, brutal kiss.
Laurence has known for months that their visions for the agency were drifting apart. He thought, at the outset, that he and Adelle were both in it for profit, and as such all his efforts have been aimed at keeping the Dollhouse running smoothly, securely, and secretly. Sometimes his temper rebels against this increasingly thankless task.
Also increasing is the frequency of these encounters, after the Actives have been put to sleep and the staff has disappeared, which Laurence refuses to give any further name.
“Really, Mr. Dominic,” says Adelle, her voice infuriatingly calm for someone sitting on top of him, just finished meticulously unbuttoning his shirt and now moving on to his belt, “what could you possibly have hoped to accomplish?”
Laurence, now flat on his back on the desk, takes a few strained breaths and swallows audibly. “It wasn’t exactly -- a matter of accomplishing something.”
She leaves the lights in the office on at these times, the blinds on the windows open. Laurence knows that the panes are one-way glass, but it still makes him feel uncomfortably exposed. That is, of course, exactly why Adelle does it.
“You simply needed to take your aggression out on something,” she guesses, leaning down to bite his neck, not hard enough to draw blood but hard enough to hurt. Whispering, she continues, “And you were confident that Echo wouldn’t remember long enough to mind.”
One would think, given her attitude about it, that he hit a queen, instead of a mindless puppet.
“Something like that,” Laurence gasps. Her preternatural cool, he knows from experience, will eventually melt away, but it will be long after he has any reason to gloat about it.
“I didn’t know you had any aggression in you,” she says, her voice mocking. “You certainly haven’t shown me any of it. I’ve found all our exchanges lacking a certain -- spark on your part.”
He realizes, then, what she’s been expecting of him all this time. He manages to meet her eyes, flashing a questioning expression. Slowly, her lips curl into a smile.
“If you’d only asked,” he says, reaching up to grip her upper arms.
Later, as they share some of the refreshments meant for the clients, Adelle says, “Now, wasn’t that far more satisfying than wasting all that feistiness on someone who can’t fight back?”