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So I threw my admittedly out of practice butt into the Yuletide ring this year. Ended up posting one fic, and one treat. It was the first gen and het I've written in - well, practically ever.
The first in a fandom I've not touched in over a decade - "La Femme Nikita" - and the second being brand new to me as a writer - "Secretary" - a movie I adore! :)
A Good Night For All
by xof
Summary: When one wasn't allowed to think towards the future, it was the temerity to *live* that made the difference. Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ainsley.
Fandom: La Femme Nikita
Featuring: Walter, Birkoff, Nikita, Michael
Genres: Yuletide Fic, Gen
Rating: PG
A Good Night For All
By xof
(December 14, 2008)
It was an oddity really. One of note, however privately acknowledged. How holidays could become the elephant in the room when it came to the days and nights spent within the binding constraints of life in Section One.
It wasn't exactly company policy to spread joy to the world, let alone to its own dead-on-paper operatives and enforced work staff. But despite itself, and the silence that reigned as the only open acknowledgment of the holidays as they came and went, there was a sense of family. One built either by necessity or by obstinacy on the part of the people that made up Section One.
Secret alliances, and perhaps not so secret loves. Friendships that lasted past or were made that much stronger by tests of company loyalty. The understanding that small pleasures and fleeting joys could make the next day bearable. Moments that wove and tangled like threads through the iron bans that caged their lives, instilled in them the light of hope.
When one wasn’t allowed to think towards the future, it was the temerity to *live* that made the difference.
“Hey, kid.” Even the tone of Walter’s voice spoke to the pleasure he was taking in the view. “You’re looking very,” he paused to let his eyes travel, then smiled, “cream and honey. Got plans, darling?”
Nikita shook her head, even as she smiled in return. “Just diner for one. Thought I’d grab a bite and head home. I’m off for the next 48.”
Walter hummed, then leaned in as she handed over her gun. The woman was looking as stylish as always, but with a bit more attention to details. Subtle makeup, a bit more color than one would think for a woman headed home. But not enough to seem like she was trying to be noticed. As if a woman like Nikita needed to work for notice. In any way.
Slipping his finger over her thumb as he took her weapon to be logged, Walter murmured, “Any way I could persuade you to change your plans? Warm bistro on a cold December night, good wine, some music and,” again he stopped, then finished for effect, “conversation.”
She laughed, low and soft. Their old game of flirt and deflect as one she looked forward to, and it showed in her voice as she answered. “Tempting, but don’t tell me you haven’t got plans. I think her name was Teresa, right?”
“Oh, right. Teresa,” he said, pretending to have forgotten.
Nikita shook her head. “You're a scoundrel, Walter.”
“Nah, just good at being bad.” He gave her a wink, and watched as she turned to go. “Have fun, sugar.” She nodded, and left – not hearing his last quiet words. “The both of you.”
- - -
A light rap of knuckles on the desk to Birkoff’s right pulled his attention away from the computer screens he’d been staring at for what seemed more than half his lifetime. “Walter, hey.” He took off his glasses and rubbed at his tired eyes. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you come up. I’ve been…”
“Buried in it up to your eyebrows. Just like always.” Walter’s tone was fond while still sounding a bit reproachful. The young man was one of his closest friends, so it was an old argument that Walter thought Birkoff should be taking more of an interest in living what life he was allowed under Section’s hand, on his off hours. But more often than not, when not asleep, Birkoff could as easily be found attached to his computers as he was during his schedule on-call.
“What are you doing still here?” Birkoff glanced at the time, pointedly not responding to Walter’s comment. “You’ll be late.” He said it with a brief smile, having heard from Walter about the fire that burned within this newest lady of his. A woman so tempestuous could be sparked to burn for Walter, or against him.
“I’m out the door. Just needed to ask you,” Walter stopped, looking over as another walked into the room. “Michael, hey. How’d things go in Turkey?”
Quiet and succinct as usual, Michael answered, “As planned. The intel Brevner gave us proved correct.” He handed his panel to Birkoff for later processing. “There will be a follow-up run, in 72 hrs. Conference review is set for 60. The details are programmed, with items flagged for your analysis before the meet.” He nodded towards them both, and then left out in the same direction that Nikita had taken not long before him.
“There’s a man that’s not one for goodbyes,” Walter joked as Birkoff started working on the panel Michael had given him. Already tired, off work and he was still at it. “Birkoff, let it rest. It’s Christmas. You should go out, have a beer. Grab some fresh air, a fresh girl….”
“Walter,” Birkoff interrupted. “Bah humbug.”
“Ha ha. Look, just consider it. You give enough of your time, hell, your life to this place. Take a little something back now and again.”
“Whatever you say, Father Christmas.” Birkoff chuckled, “It’s time for you to go a-ho-ho-hoing. I’m almost done, and then I’m gone too. Okay?”
Walter nodded, clapping a hand on Birkoff’s shoulder fondly. “Good, good.” He started to turn to leave, but then remembered. “Oh, one thing. I needed to ask a favor.”
Birkoff looked at him wearily, but listened as Walter leaned in and murmured quietly. The details caused Birkoff to turn his head sharply as the older man stepped back. “Are you kidding me? You want me risk my neck trying to be some kind of Secret Santa to Nikita and Michael?”
The soft hiss of Birkoff’s voice was low enough not to resound within the room, but Walter was cautious regardless when he replied, “Keep it down, would you? I just want us to see if we can give them one night without Mommy and Daddy’s eye in the sky.”
Birkoff stared at him stubbornly, but he was thinking regardless. There was a way. Loop the feed, pull a few untraceable tricks and yes, it could…
“It’s Nikita and Michael, Birkoff. Have a heart.”
“If I had a brain, I wouldn’t even be listening to this,” Birkoff grumbled. When Walter opened his mouth to protest and/or drive his request home, Birkoff held up his hand. “Spare me the holiday spirit advert, okay. I’ll think about it. Just go, yeah? Have a good night.” Giving Walter a brief up-turn of a smile, Birkoff added, “Happy Christmas.” He knew it would mean something to his friend, an expression of good faith on a holiday for which Birkoff had been raised not to think on.
With nod, Walter gave him a grin in return. “Happy Christmas, Seymour. And, thanks.” It was more than evident by the look on his face that he understood Birkoff’s ‘think about it’ was tan demount to his agreement.
Turning back to his computer, Birkoff didn’t watch as Walter left. But he did listen. Listened and acknowledged, privately, that yes he had agreed. But the gift of a night, the freedom of a few hours – it wasn’t for Nikita. It wasn’t for Michael.
It would be for Walter.
And thinking still harder about the life that he led, the life that all of them led – or were allowed to live. Maybe, just maybe – it was a little for himself as well.
Merry Christmas, to all. And to all a good night...
Finis
and
Warmth Within and Without
by xof
Summary: She didn't know the cold. She only knew the moment, and the man. Written for P6655321 (drunken_hedghog).
Fandom: Secretary
Featuring: Edward/Lee
Genres: Yuletide Treat, Het, D/s
Rating: NC-17
Warmth Within and Without
By xof
(December 24, 2008)
"I've decided we should encourage your initiative for...material sacrifice." The pause was tinged with Edward's quiet and knowing sense of humor, but it did not take away from the implicit command of his words.
Lee remained quiet, but looked to him in anticipation with eyes wide. Her legs shifted under the table, thighs pressed tight was she waited with impatience to know his wishes.
Walking to the desk in his study, Edward slowly opened one of the drawers - his movements succinct and precise as he drew a pair of scissors from inside and laid them down for Lee to see. Long handled and antique, they were beautiful. So nice indeed that Lee itched to hold them.
"The scraps of fabric you used to cut from your skirt, thinking I wouldn't notice. What was that about?"
Not surprised he'd noticed, because Edward noticed everything, Lee answered. "Penance for something I had done wrong." Then told the complete truth, as was required by the change in their relationship from employer/employee to lovers, husband and wife, and more. "A token of hope to improve and be as you would have me be."
Edward nodded. Then looked at her, in that way of his. Seeing into her as no one ever had before.
"Undress down to your camisole and underpants, Lee." Matter of fact, and yet still as if off-hand, he instructed and then turned to glance through the mail stacked with express neatness on the left corner of his desk. He didn't look up to see her comply. They both knew she would do it.
Once done, she tried not to fidget while staring at the scissors as she bit her lip. The fact that she was already wet between the legs, well - it was her nature, and his, to respond to each other the way they did. That they had found each other was the greatest gift she'd known in her life.
"Take them, Lee. Hold them in your hand." He hadn't even looked up to say it. She stepped close and took the scissors from the desk, a breath passing from her unbidden as the cold metal pressed against her skin. Old thoughts teased at her, whispers of dark cares she used to entertain before this man had told her it was something past and gone - never to encroach upon her life again. And she shut them out as she waited for his next word.
Looking up finally, Edward leaned back in his chair and continued his instructions. "Cut and remove the silk over your breasts. Circles, the size of your palms."
She swallowed, bit back any impulse to ask why - and did so, directly. The crimson camisole had been a gift from him, just that morning. If he wished it destroyed, and her exposed, then it would be done. Gladly.
God, even the slice of the blades through the fabric sent a shiver through her body. Nipples hard, with the act and the cold night air - she stood to be seen. Scissors in one hand, and two ragged circles offered towards him at his pleasure in the other.
"That garment was a gift, Lee. You've destroyed it." His tone was reproachful, holding no allowance for discussion for having told her to commit the very thing for which she was now to be punished.
It was just a given that she would now happily suffer the burden, or rather the gift. For between them, it was a in the end, both.
He stood and walked to her, taking the silk from her hand as his eyes looked to her breasts offered out for him as her breathing quickened at his nearness. "Bend at the waist, and lower your panties to your knees."
She did it, scissors still in hand. Shaking, she remained in position. Awaiting his next word. Thinking a thousand things, and yet nothing at all. Exposed, and wanting. Wanting him, and anything he would have of her.
"Slice them, Lee. Down the middle, from clit to ass. Cut them open until the cotton resembles the lips between your legs." His voice was thick, rougher than when they'd started. Effected in the main, as she was herself by her low position and her will to do as she was told.
She worried her lip, the rush of blood to her head making her hot as she worked the scissors jaggedly through the cotton. The underwear was one of a pair; matching the ones Edward had given her on their first night of their new future. Silk and cotton had come to be her undergarments of choice, when he chose for her to wear any at all.
The alteration made, overt and open, he told her to stand and draw them up her legs. "Brazen looks good on you, Lee." He pressed himself to her, him fully clothed and her as she was. He was hard, and she shifted so she could feel it, but he stopped her with a hand on her waist. "The black dinner suit, jacket and skirt. Put them on. Black strapped heels, and a touch of lipstick, Lee. We have a reservation at seven."
And so he took her his favorite restaurant, expensive and candle lit. Where she ate what he ordered, and smiled at his stories, while all the time she was so very aware of herself. Sensitized by the rough lining of the jacket over her nipples, the friction causing her never to fully forget. Not that she would have been able to if she'd tried, when he'd instructed her to sit with her legs spread under the table - hidden by the tablecloth that fell to the floor. The position of her legs adjusted by the occasional press and push of his feet against the inside of her own during the course of the meal. She was sitting with legs spread, and pussy showing as the short length of her skirt rode up her thighs. And just the knowledge of it burned her from the inside, even as he owning eyes scorched her from without.
The ride home, for it was indeed now hers by his direction as well as his, was much the same. She wasn't allowed to close her legs, made ever more aware of the fact when he flipped her skirt back so that the panties and their ruined state were open for view.
"Warm night," was his only comment.
Once back at the house, he pressed the need to, "cool her down," by telling her to remove her outer clothes.
She found herself shivering, standing in front of the open refrigerator with Edward holding himself against her back. The cold hardened her nipples still further when he took ice in hand, pressed it first in her mouth to wet and then to her tight nips as she cried out and jerked against him. Cold water slipping between his fingers, and down her chest - he played with her, and pulled her hips back until she was angled fully against his groin. Every move she made, bringing them closer together. Her ass moving over the hard length of him until he jerked his pants open.
She moaned his name as he dropped his cold hand between her legs, playing over her hot wet lips and between, stroking her clit until she had to grab the refrigerator door to keep from falling.
"Lee, ahh..." He called her name, breathless and thankful as he pressed himself inside her. Thrusting long and hard between the cotton slit she'd made, and finding home in her heat. Pushing, moving fast and well within the hot wet folds of her body as she quaked under his hand and around his sex. The pair of them fighting for and against the crash of hot and cold, need and must have now!
Lee came first, quick and long - the pleasure flashing through her as she was handled and held. "Edward!" Husband, friend and lord of all in her life. She smiled as he groaned just after, pulsing inside her as he clutched her close. Kisses on her neck, his hands running over her skin... She didn't know the cold. She only knew the moment, and the man.
Her warmth within, and by his touch - without.
Finis
Here's hoping you like them - small though they may be.
Hugs
xof
The first in a fandom I've not touched in over a decade - "La Femme Nikita" - and the second being brand new to me as a writer - "Secretary" - a movie I adore! :)
A Good Night For All
by xof
Summary: When one wasn't allowed to think towards the future, it was the temerity to *live* that made the difference. Written for
ainsley.Fandom: La Femme Nikita
Featuring: Walter, Birkoff, Nikita, Michael
Genres: Yuletide Fic, Gen
Rating: PG
A Good Night For All
By xof
(December 14, 2008)
It was an oddity really. One of note, however privately acknowledged. How holidays could become the elephant in the room when it came to the days and nights spent within the binding constraints of life in Section One.
It wasn't exactly company policy to spread joy to the world, let alone to its own dead-on-paper operatives and enforced work staff. But despite itself, and the silence that reigned as the only open acknowledgment of the holidays as they came and went, there was a sense of family. One built either by necessity or by obstinacy on the part of the people that made up Section One.
Secret alliances, and perhaps not so secret loves. Friendships that lasted past or were made that much stronger by tests of company loyalty. The understanding that small pleasures and fleeting joys could make the next day bearable. Moments that wove and tangled like threads through the iron bans that caged their lives, instilled in them the light of hope.
When one wasn’t allowed to think towards the future, it was the temerity to *live* that made the difference.
“Hey, kid.” Even the tone of Walter’s voice spoke to the pleasure he was taking in the view. “You’re looking very,” he paused to let his eyes travel, then smiled, “cream and honey. Got plans, darling?”
Nikita shook her head, even as she smiled in return. “Just diner for one. Thought I’d grab a bite and head home. I’m off for the next 48.”
Walter hummed, then leaned in as she handed over her gun. The woman was looking as stylish as always, but with a bit more attention to details. Subtle makeup, a bit more color than one would think for a woman headed home. But not enough to seem like she was trying to be noticed. As if a woman like Nikita needed to work for notice. In any way.
Slipping his finger over her thumb as he took her weapon to be logged, Walter murmured, “Any way I could persuade you to change your plans? Warm bistro on a cold December night, good wine, some music and,” again he stopped, then finished for effect, “conversation.”
She laughed, low and soft. Their old game of flirt and deflect as one she looked forward to, and it showed in her voice as she answered. “Tempting, but don’t tell me you haven’t got plans. I think her name was Teresa, right?”
“Oh, right. Teresa,” he said, pretending to have forgotten.
Nikita shook her head. “You're a scoundrel, Walter.”
“Nah, just good at being bad.” He gave her a wink, and watched as she turned to go. “Have fun, sugar.” She nodded, and left – not hearing his last quiet words. “The both of you.”
- - -
A light rap of knuckles on the desk to Birkoff’s right pulled his attention away from the computer screens he’d been staring at for what seemed more than half his lifetime. “Walter, hey.” He took off his glasses and rubbed at his tired eyes. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you come up. I’ve been…”
“Buried in it up to your eyebrows. Just like always.” Walter’s tone was fond while still sounding a bit reproachful. The young man was one of his closest friends, so it was an old argument that Walter thought Birkoff should be taking more of an interest in living what life he was allowed under Section’s hand, on his off hours. But more often than not, when not asleep, Birkoff could as easily be found attached to his computers as he was during his schedule on-call.
“What are you doing still here?” Birkoff glanced at the time, pointedly not responding to Walter’s comment. “You’ll be late.” He said it with a brief smile, having heard from Walter about the fire that burned within this newest lady of his. A woman so tempestuous could be sparked to burn for Walter, or against him.
“I’m out the door. Just needed to ask you,” Walter stopped, looking over as another walked into the room. “Michael, hey. How’d things go in Turkey?”
Quiet and succinct as usual, Michael answered, “As planned. The intel Brevner gave us proved correct.” He handed his panel to Birkoff for later processing. “There will be a follow-up run, in 72 hrs. Conference review is set for 60. The details are programmed, with items flagged for your analysis before the meet.” He nodded towards them both, and then left out in the same direction that Nikita had taken not long before him.
“There’s a man that’s not one for goodbyes,” Walter joked as Birkoff started working on the panel Michael had given him. Already tired, off work and he was still at it. “Birkoff, let it rest. It’s Christmas. You should go out, have a beer. Grab some fresh air, a fresh girl….”
“Walter,” Birkoff interrupted. “Bah humbug.”
“Ha ha. Look, just consider it. You give enough of your time, hell, your life to this place. Take a little something back now and again.”
“Whatever you say, Father Christmas.” Birkoff chuckled, “It’s time for you to go a-ho-ho-hoing. I’m almost done, and then I’m gone too. Okay?”
Walter nodded, clapping a hand on Birkoff’s shoulder fondly. “Good, good.” He started to turn to leave, but then remembered. “Oh, one thing. I needed to ask a favor.”
Birkoff looked at him wearily, but listened as Walter leaned in and murmured quietly. The details caused Birkoff to turn his head sharply as the older man stepped back. “Are you kidding me? You want me risk my neck trying to be some kind of Secret Santa to Nikita and Michael?”
The soft hiss of Birkoff’s voice was low enough not to resound within the room, but Walter was cautious regardless when he replied, “Keep it down, would you? I just want us to see if we can give them one night without Mommy and Daddy’s eye in the sky.”
Birkoff stared at him stubbornly, but he was thinking regardless. There was a way. Loop the feed, pull a few untraceable tricks and yes, it could…
“It’s Nikita and Michael, Birkoff. Have a heart.”
“If I had a brain, I wouldn’t even be listening to this,” Birkoff grumbled. When Walter opened his mouth to protest and/or drive his request home, Birkoff held up his hand. “Spare me the holiday spirit advert, okay. I’ll think about it. Just go, yeah? Have a good night.” Giving Walter a brief up-turn of a smile, Birkoff added, “Happy Christmas.” He knew it would mean something to his friend, an expression of good faith on a holiday for which Birkoff had been raised not to think on.
With nod, Walter gave him a grin in return. “Happy Christmas, Seymour. And, thanks.” It was more than evident by the look on his face that he understood Birkoff’s ‘think about it’ was tan demount to his agreement.
Turning back to his computer, Birkoff didn’t watch as Walter left. But he did listen. Listened and acknowledged, privately, that yes he had agreed. But the gift of a night, the freedom of a few hours – it wasn’t for Nikita. It wasn’t for Michael.
It would be for Walter.
And thinking still harder about the life that he led, the life that all of them led – or were allowed to live. Maybe, just maybe – it was a little for himself as well.
Merry Christmas, to all. And to all a good night...
Finis
and
Warmth Within and Without
by xof
Summary: She didn't know the cold. She only knew the moment, and the man. Written for P6655321 (
drunken_hedghog).Fandom: Secretary
Featuring: Edward/Lee
Genres: Yuletide Treat, Het, D/s
Rating: NC-17
Warmth Within and Without
By xof
(December 24, 2008)
"I've decided we should encourage your initiative for...material sacrifice." The pause was tinged with Edward's quiet and knowing sense of humor, but it did not take away from the implicit command of his words.
Lee remained quiet, but looked to him in anticipation with eyes wide. Her legs shifted under the table, thighs pressed tight was she waited with impatience to know his wishes.
Walking to the desk in his study, Edward slowly opened one of the drawers - his movements succinct and precise as he drew a pair of scissors from inside and laid them down for Lee to see. Long handled and antique, they were beautiful. So nice indeed that Lee itched to hold them.
"The scraps of fabric you used to cut from your skirt, thinking I wouldn't notice. What was that about?"
Not surprised he'd noticed, because Edward noticed everything, Lee answered. "Penance for something I had done wrong." Then told the complete truth, as was required by the change in their relationship from employer/employee to lovers, husband and wife, and more. "A token of hope to improve and be as you would have me be."
Edward nodded. Then looked at her, in that way of his. Seeing into her as no one ever had before.
"Undress down to your camisole and underpants, Lee." Matter of fact, and yet still as if off-hand, he instructed and then turned to glance through the mail stacked with express neatness on the left corner of his desk. He didn't look up to see her comply. They both knew she would do it.
Once done, she tried not to fidget while staring at the scissors as she bit her lip. The fact that she was already wet between the legs, well - it was her nature, and his, to respond to each other the way they did. That they had found each other was the greatest gift she'd known in her life.
"Take them, Lee. Hold them in your hand." He hadn't even looked up to say it. She stepped close and took the scissors from the desk, a breath passing from her unbidden as the cold metal pressed against her skin. Old thoughts teased at her, whispers of dark cares she used to entertain before this man had told her it was something past and gone - never to encroach upon her life again. And she shut them out as she waited for his next word.
Looking up finally, Edward leaned back in his chair and continued his instructions. "Cut and remove the silk over your breasts. Circles, the size of your palms."
She swallowed, bit back any impulse to ask why - and did so, directly. The crimson camisole had been a gift from him, just that morning. If he wished it destroyed, and her exposed, then it would be done. Gladly.
God, even the slice of the blades through the fabric sent a shiver through her body. Nipples hard, with the act and the cold night air - she stood to be seen. Scissors in one hand, and two ragged circles offered towards him at his pleasure in the other.
"That garment was a gift, Lee. You've destroyed it." His tone was reproachful, holding no allowance for discussion for having told her to commit the very thing for which she was now to be punished.
It was just a given that she would now happily suffer the burden, or rather the gift. For between them, it was a in the end, both.
He stood and walked to her, taking the silk from her hand as his eyes looked to her breasts offered out for him as her breathing quickened at his nearness. "Bend at the waist, and lower your panties to your knees."
She did it, scissors still in hand. Shaking, she remained in position. Awaiting his next word. Thinking a thousand things, and yet nothing at all. Exposed, and wanting. Wanting him, and anything he would have of her.
"Slice them, Lee. Down the middle, from clit to ass. Cut them open until the cotton resembles the lips between your legs." His voice was thick, rougher than when they'd started. Effected in the main, as she was herself by her low position and her will to do as she was told.
She worried her lip, the rush of blood to her head making her hot as she worked the scissors jaggedly through the cotton. The underwear was one of a pair; matching the ones Edward had given her on their first night of their new future. Silk and cotton had come to be her undergarments of choice, when he chose for her to wear any at all.
The alteration made, overt and open, he told her to stand and draw them up her legs. "Brazen looks good on you, Lee." He pressed himself to her, him fully clothed and her as she was. He was hard, and she shifted so she could feel it, but he stopped her with a hand on her waist. "The black dinner suit, jacket and skirt. Put them on. Black strapped heels, and a touch of lipstick, Lee. We have a reservation at seven."
And so he took her his favorite restaurant, expensive and candle lit. Where she ate what he ordered, and smiled at his stories, while all the time she was so very aware of herself. Sensitized by the rough lining of the jacket over her nipples, the friction causing her never to fully forget. Not that she would have been able to if she'd tried, when he'd instructed her to sit with her legs spread under the table - hidden by the tablecloth that fell to the floor. The position of her legs adjusted by the occasional press and push of his feet against the inside of her own during the course of the meal. She was sitting with legs spread, and pussy showing as the short length of her skirt rode up her thighs. And just the knowledge of it burned her from the inside, even as he owning eyes scorched her from without.
The ride home, for it was indeed now hers by his direction as well as his, was much the same. She wasn't allowed to close her legs, made ever more aware of the fact when he flipped her skirt back so that the panties and their ruined state were open for view.
"Warm night," was his only comment.
Once back at the house, he pressed the need to, "cool her down," by telling her to remove her outer clothes.
She found herself shivering, standing in front of the open refrigerator with Edward holding himself against her back. The cold hardened her nipples still further when he took ice in hand, pressed it first in her mouth to wet and then to her tight nips as she cried out and jerked against him. Cold water slipping between his fingers, and down her chest - he played with her, and pulled her hips back until she was angled fully against his groin. Every move she made, bringing them closer together. Her ass moving over the hard length of him until he jerked his pants open.
She moaned his name as he dropped his cold hand between her legs, playing over her hot wet lips and between, stroking her clit until she had to grab the refrigerator door to keep from falling.
"Lee, ahh..." He called her name, breathless and thankful as he pressed himself inside her. Thrusting long and hard between the cotton slit she'd made, and finding home in her heat. Pushing, moving fast and well within the hot wet folds of her body as she quaked under his hand and around his sex. The pair of them fighting for and against the crash of hot and cold, need and must have now!
Lee came first, quick and long - the pleasure flashing through her as she was handled and held. "Edward!" Husband, friend and lord of all in her life. She smiled as he groaned just after, pulsing inside her as he clutched her close. Kisses on her neck, his hands running over her skin... She didn't know the cold. She only knew the moment, and the man.
Her warmth within, and by his touch - without.
Finis
Here's hoping you like them - small though they may be.
Hugs
xof
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