blucola: (Default)
blucola ([personal profile] blucola) wrote2003-07-12 11:36 am

FIC: Alone #18: Beneath the Table

Title: Alone: Beneath the Table
Author: Lorraine
Category: Original fiction, fem slash, POV
Rating: NC-17

Kira finally started speaking to me again. Hence the return after a long hiatus.



Alone: Beneath the Table


Kira wasn't at home when I arrived at her place that night. We hadn't set anything up, nonetheless, we’d always spent the evening together. I waited an hour and then disconsolately made my way home. When I got to my house, every window was lit up and the front door was open.

I sprinted out of my car, my heart pounding. I knew I shouldn't go inside, if there were thieves they might still be there, but I was gripped by the unshakable need to see what was missing. I ran inside and skidded to a stop.

Kira had set up the dining room with a welcome back banner and an enormous cake. There was dinner on the table and Kira sat in front of her place setting, slumped over asleep, with her chin resting on her palm.

I was both touched that she'd gone to the trouble and incensed that she hadn’t called to tell me she was using her key for the first time. The more tender emotions prevailed. I tip-toed over to her to wake her with a gentle hand at her shoulder and a kiss at the nape of her neck.

She stirred, her head coming up slowly. A sound I knew so well, similar to lazy satisfaction, purred it’s way from her throat. “Hello Lover,” her voice was slurred with sleep. Her eyes, when she twisted in her chair to look up at me, were wide and blinking.

“Kira,” I said, with the intention of conveying a tone of outrage, instead her name emerged from my mouth suffused with want. She wasn’t slow on the uptake. She licked her lips slowly, that’s all. That’s really all it ever took with me. I found myself gripping the back of her chair so hard my knuckles turned white.

“Kira,” I tried again, but the battle was already lost. She stretched and I could see that she hadn’t worn a bra under her thin white cotton dress, her nipples were clearly visible, peeking and peaking under the fabric. In a few minutes, when that dress had been tossed aside and I had one of those nipples in my mouth, I would discover she had lightly rouged the aureoles.

I was already wet. She grinned when she slipped a hand under my skirt and found that out for herself. “Eager,” she purred in that voice again and began to rub. “Always for you,” I admitted desperately.

My legs started to buckle. I was always completely at Kira’s mercy when she took over. I still held the back of her chair in my hands, it was the only thing that kept me from slipping to the floor. A nudge from her at the back of my knees made me do just that. I sank onto the soft pile of the dining room carpet and ended up laying halfway under the table.

Kira followed me and pushed my legs apart at the same time. She reached up to the table top and fumbled around for her steak knife. My skirt was pushed up around my waist in no time and the knife snicked into my pantyhose, ripping the crotch apart. I was still as a post while the knife was near my genitals, then when she slapped it back up onto the table, I began writhing, making these high pitched sounds that came directly from the most primitive part of me.

She parted my folds with one hand, the fingers of her other hand she sank deep into my sex, then settled her mouth over me and instead of licking, sucked hard, with occasional taps of her tongue against my clitoris. She worked the hand buried in me and in minutes had me screaming my release into the room.

She kept her mouth over me, until the tremors subsided, then stopped and lifted her head. “How was your first day back at work?” She asked with a smile.

All I could do was look adoringly at her and moan.

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