Ficlet: Caught (Pushing Daisies)
May. 17th, 2008 05:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dragojustineCaught
Pushing Daisies, R or a light NC-17, reference to Ned/Chuck
This is a little bitty angstlet I started for a masturbation prompt so long ago I've forgotten what it was actually for. 750 words.
Ned caught her during the late afternoon quiet period.
He didn't normally come up then, even though all the pies were made and the lunch rush had cleared out and Olive was perfectly capable of holding down the fort. He preferred to putter in the kitchen anyway. You never know when there might be a need for an emergency pie.
She wanted to say she had been watching his hands as they rolled the dough and smoothed and pinched those perfectly ruffled crusts. She wanted to say she'd been watching his smile, his dimples, the flush in his cheeks as she sucked powdered sugar off her fingers.
But that wouldn't be, strictly speaking, true. She had been watching a couple in the corner booth. He was short and muscled and freckled-blond, with a bright brittle smile. He didn't talk much, and when he did, his voice was strong and confident. His companion had been a tiny woman with masses of dark hair down her back and perfect blood colored fingernails. Chuck had been trying to figure out if he'd paid her or not. Except when the pie arrived, they stopped making out and settled down to eat, while the woman kept up a steady stream of chatter about mutual friends and that movie they saw, so probably not.
While they ate, the woman kept running her foot over his leg, caressing his bare ankle. Their hands brushed nearly the whole time. Chuck had watched them and wondered if it would be possible for them to look any more different from her and Ned.
When Olive whisked away the plates and blond boy's credit card, the woman had looked around furtively and then slid into his lap. Her knees squeaked a little on the vinyl seat as she ground steadily into him, and he slipped his hands up the back of her short skirt and held her ass, oblivious to Ned's uncomfortable throat-clearing as he braced himself to tell them to stop.
Chuck didn't know if Ned had finally thrown them out, because she had fled upstairs. Five minutes later she had her demure yellow skirt pushed up to her waist, knees sprawled wide as her fingers rubbed long, steady strokes past her clit and she bit her lip and whimpered. She was that tiny dark woman with the tacky earrings and too-red manicure, grinding her pussy down against the cock of Mr. Muscle Blond, clutching his broad shoulders with her bare hands, running her fingers through that short hair, spiky gelled but soft.
He had his hands up her skirt, clutching her ass as he rutted up against her, kissing and moaning, and his fingers found the cleft of her ass, and then slipped forward, feeling her soaking wet- and oh god- right like that- that was it-
She heard Ned's startled gasp just as she slipped over the edge, convulsing and biting down on her lip. Somewhere far away he was babbling about just coming up for a spare shirt, taking his apron off for just a moment but sure enough it has to be that moment that Olive bumps into him carrying two slices of cherry, and now the other one will have to be washed, of course, but he has plenty since he did laundry only two days ago, none of which changes the fact that he almost certainly should have knocked, and maybe they need some kind of signal, like hanging something on a doorknob-
He was just hitting his stride by the time she could open her eyes again. His face was flushed bright with more than embarrassment, and his cock showed clearly under his pants. There was a window, a brief precious moment for her to smile coyly and tell him that she had been thinking about his hands rolling out that pie crust, or the look on his face when she sucked her fingers at lunch. Then she would motion him toward the other bed, slowly lick off her dripping fingers, lock her eyes on his as she encouraged him in a sex-rough voice and he would stroke himself, there right across from her.
But while Chuck has kept a lot of secrets recently, she hasn't lied much, and in the time it took for her to work herself up to it the moment had passed. Ned finally managed to end his frantic babble, ducking backwards out the door, and Chuck just lay there thinking about the tingling phantom memory of Mr. Blond's hands on her ass and lips on her neck.
**************************
ETA: I may or may not have an actual (much less angsty) Ned/Chuck fic in the works, but I have no one to beta it for me. Is there anyone who would be willing to maybe let me bug them later?
Pushing Daisies, R or a light NC-17, reference to Ned/Chuck
This is a little bitty angstlet I started for a masturbation prompt so long ago I've forgotten what it was actually for. 750 words.
Ned caught her during the late afternoon quiet period.
He didn't normally come up then, even though all the pies were made and the lunch rush had cleared out and Olive was perfectly capable of holding down the fort. He preferred to putter in the kitchen anyway. You never know when there might be a need for an emergency pie.
She wanted to say she had been watching his hands as they rolled the dough and smoothed and pinched those perfectly ruffled crusts. She wanted to say she'd been watching his smile, his dimples, the flush in his cheeks as she sucked powdered sugar off her fingers.
But that wouldn't be, strictly speaking, true. She had been watching a couple in the corner booth. He was short and muscled and freckled-blond, with a bright brittle smile. He didn't talk much, and when he did, his voice was strong and confident. His companion had been a tiny woman with masses of dark hair down her back and perfect blood colored fingernails. Chuck had been trying to figure out if he'd paid her or not. Except when the pie arrived, they stopped making out and settled down to eat, while the woman kept up a steady stream of chatter about mutual friends and that movie they saw, so probably not.
While they ate, the woman kept running her foot over his leg, caressing his bare ankle. Their hands brushed nearly the whole time. Chuck had watched them and wondered if it would be possible for them to look any more different from her and Ned.
When Olive whisked away the plates and blond boy's credit card, the woman had looked around furtively and then slid into his lap. Her knees squeaked a little on the vinyl seat as she ground steadily into him, and he slipped his hands up the back of her short skirt and held her ass, oblivious to Ned's uncomfortable throat-clearing as he braced himself to tell them to stop.
Chuck didn't know if Ned had finally thrown them out, because she had fled upstairs. Five minutes later she had her demure yellow skirt pushed up to her waist, knees sprawled wide as her fingers rubbed long, steady strokes past her clit and she bit her lip and whimpered. She was that tiny dark woman with the tacky earrings and too-red manicure, grinding her pussy down against the cock of Mr. Muscle Blond, clutching his broad shoulders with her bare hands, running her fingers through that short hair, spiky gelled but soft.
He had his hands up her skirt, clutching her ass as he rutted up against her, kissing and moaning, and his fingers found the cleft of her ass, and then slipped forward, feeling her soaking wet- and oh god- right like that- that was it-
She heard Ned's startled gasp just as she slipped over the edge, convulsing and biting down on her lip. Somewhere far away he was babbling about just coming up for a spare shirt, taking his apron off for just a moment but sure enough it has to be that moment that Olive bumps into him carrying two slices of cherry, and now the other one will have to be washed, of course, but he has plenty since he did laundry only two days ago, none of which changes the fact that he almost certainly should have knocked, and maybe they need some kind of signal, like hanging something on a doorknob-
He was just hitting his stride by the time she could open her eyes again. His face was flushed bright with more than embarrassment, and his cock showed clearly under his pants. There was a window, a brief precious moment for her to smile coyly and tell him that she had been thinking about his hands rolling out that pie crust, or the look on his face when she sucked her fingers at lunch. Then she would motion him toward the other bed, slowly lick off her dripping fingers, lock her eyes on his as she encouraged him in a sex-rough voice and he would stroke himself, there right across from her.
But while Chuck has kept a lot of secrets recently, she hasn't lied much, and in the time it took for her to work herself up to it the moment had passed. Ned finally managed to end his frantic babble, ducking backwards out the door, and Chuck just lay there thinking about the tingling phantom memory of Mr. Blond's hands on her ass and lips on her neck.
**************************
ETA: I may or may not have an actual (much less angsty) Ned/Chuck fic in the works, but I have no one to beta it for me. Is there anyone who would be willing to maybe let me bug them later?