Author's Notes: Written for the Slashy Smut Challenge on livejournal. Thanks go to gurrier, for beta.
Everybody knows how Frannie feels about Benton Fraser. It's not like she's discrete, what with all the public groping and everything, and the way she goes all dreamy-eyed whenever the guy is in the room. She's obvious and awkward and a little bit pathetic; she's pretty sure the detectives have some kind of pool going about how many times Fraser's going to shoot her down in any given afternoon.
But Frannie doesn't mind. Quite the opposite, actually. Because the more people know about that, the less they're gonna guess about this.
She slides her fingers into Elaine's thick curls and tightens her grip, pulling just a little. Elaine gasps and then laughs, low in her throat. Her lips are wet and warm on the curve of Frannie's breast, her tongue tracing slow loops beneath the pushed-down collar of Frannie's shirt. "Careful," she murmurs.
Frannie grins. "Or what?" She tugs on Elaine's hair again, pulling her head back up, bringing their lips together. Elaine moans into Frannie's mouth, slides a hand over Frannie's chest and her throat and up to grasp her chin. She kisses Frannie slow and deep, and her thigh slides between Frannie's legs.
"Or what?" Frannie repeats. Her voice is mostly breath this time.
Elaine kisses her again. "Or nothing," she says, sounding amused. Her lips move over Frannie's chin, along her jaw. Her teeth close on Frannie's earlobe, gently, and then a little harder. "Pervert."
Frannie shivers and laughs and tugs her handful of curls again. "Takes one to...ah. God, Elaine..." She slides her hands down Elaine's back, then brings them up again, this time under that crisp blue uniform shirt. Elaine rocks her hips, bringing their bodies together. Her tongue feels like nothing on this earth where it's moving beneath Frannie's ear.
See, it's not like Frannie planned on falling for a girl. What she always thought would happen had more to do with her mother's hopes for her: nice, Catholic boy who'd propose on bended knee, white wedding at St. Francis, a house in the neighbourhood, a dog, a car, a handful of apple-cheeked kids. But nobody can really predict the future, and nobody can help who they fall for, either. Elaine just kind of happened, like a sunset or the weather. And this is the lady whose shoes you'll have to fill, Welsh said, that first day. And Elaine smiled, shy and sweet and blushing already, and Frannie felt it happen right then--kaboom, thud. True love.
But hey--at least she's Catholic.
"Mmm..." Elaine kisses her way down Frannie's neck, her lips leaving a wet trail in their wake, the fingers of her right hand slipping up Frannie's stockinged thigh. They're in the records room at the station, which is risky even though Frannie's locked the door and turned off the lights, even though it's after hours and nobody ought to be down here until the morning. But risky is not always a bad thing, Frannie figures. In fact, in a lot of situations, it can be kind of good.
She wriggles, letting her skirt slip up a little higher, and curves her fingers around the back of Elaine's head. Rests her mouth on that long, smooth neck. Elaine's massaging hand gets to the top of Frannie's right stocking and finds the bare skin there, and the lacy strap of garter pressing in, and Frannie feels the sudden pause, hears the hitch in Elaine's indrawn breath.
She smiles. "Like that?"
Elaine's breath huffs out warm on Frannie's chest. "You know I do."
She lifts her head and Frannie kisses her, pulling her in hard, thrusting her tongue past those full lips, into the sweet warmth beyond. Elaine moans. Her fingers start to move again, lightly, brushing the sensitive skin on the inside of Frannie's thigh, tracing the delicate edges of the garter's strap. Frannie wriggles again, gets her behind all the way onto the edge of the record clerk's desk and brings her other leg up to hug the outside of Elaine's hip. Her skirt is rucked up around her waist, now, and Elaine is warm and solid between her thighs, and Elaine's teeth, and god, her tongue and something slides off the desk behind them, landing on the floor with a crash, but Frannie can't make herself pay attention.
Because now Elaine has her fingertips just under the edge of Frannie's panties, and she's moaning into Frannie's mouth, thrusting against her slow and hard, and her other hand is somehow inside Frannie's shirt, which is halfway off and tangled in Frannie's hair, and she doesn't even remember how that happened. And then Frannie's bra is loose, unclasped, and Elaine's hand is squeezing the soft flesh beneath, and her palm is rough against Frannie's nipple. "Oh...shit," Frannie says, "Yeah, yes, Elaine..."
And Elaine swallows the rest of her words with a kiss, and the hand on Frannie's thigh moves higher, cups her through the panties and then beneath them, one slender finger dipping in. Frannie hears herself make a sound that is embarrassingly loud in the quiet room, and Elaine kisses her cheek, slips the finger a little deeper. "Frannie," she murmurs, "God...you're so wet."
Frannie tries to laugh, but it comes out strange and breathless. She kisses Elaine, tightens her legs on Elaine's hips. That hot mouth moves lower, kissing and biting its way over Frannie's collarbone to her breast. She just has time to get a hand on the desk behind her and then Elaine's mouth is closing on her nipple. "Oh," she says, "Oh Jesus..." The arm Frannie's holding herself up with is trembling. She moves the other one back there too. More stuff falls off the desk, and the whole thing is sort of squeaking, probably because Frannie is thrusting herself against Elaine's hand like that, but she can't make herself stop, because oh god, there are two fingers inside her now, and that mouth on her breast, wet tongue flicking over the nipple and if Frannie doesn't get to come pretty soon, the boys upstairs are going to think there's a murder going on down here.
"'Laine...please..." And wow, she sure didn't mean for it to come out that pathetic. But Elaine's mouth moves lower, releasing Frannie's swollen nipple, leaving it cold and tingling as she kisses her way down Frannie's belly, and then ooh, yes, mouths at the soaked scrap of silk that covers Frannie's pussy. Frannie locks her elbows. Bites her lower lip. She's spread her legs as far as they'll open, and Elaine is holding them there, her fingers pressing into the flesh of Frannie's upper thighs, and Frannie feels hot and exposed and totally dirty, in the most delicious of ways. Elaine's breath feels warm through Frannie's panties, and her fingers are tugging at the wet crotch of them, pulling them aside, making way for that--ah!--agile tongue. Frannie feels a heartbeat of cooler air and then a fleeting brush of teeth and oh, sweet mother of god, Elaine's mouth, right there.
Frannie's breath is coming in huge, shuddering gasps. Her arms are trembling--her whole body is trembling--so she hooks her leg over Elaine's shoulder for extra support, feels the heel of her shoe catch in Elaine's uniform shirt. The desk is scraping slowly backward across the floor and Elaine's lips are warm and her tongue is moving and no matter how hard Frannie bucks her hips, Elaine is right there with her. And those fingers are inside Frannie, pushing, sliding deeper, pressing just...right...there where she needs them. "Oh," she hears herself gasp, "Oh yeah, yeah, don't...fuck...just keep...Jesus."
And she feels herself pitch forward as she comes, feels her hips pushing hard into Elaine's still-moving mouth, and her ass slipping toward the edge of the desk and Elaine's hands under her thighs, holding her there, supporting her through the last shuddering tremors.
Eventually, she pulls herself up with weak, shaky arms, and collapses backward, lying amongst the hopelessly disordered files. Elaine rests her head on Frannie's chest, and Frannie pushes her fingers into the sweat-damp hair just over Elaine's collar, lifts it up and out of the way.
"I can't believe you told Sergeant Cole I forgot to sign off on a file," Elaine says, with a smile in her voice.
Frannie grins, trailing her fingernails over the nape of Elaine's neck, making her shiver. "I needed to see you," she says, all innocence. "Ray and Fraser want us to come over tonight. You didn't expect me to wait all the way through dinner for this, did you?"
Elaine laughs. She pushes herself up a little, grins into Frannie's face and kisses her on the chin. "You know what?" she says, her lips warm on Frannie's skin, "I wouldn't dream of it."
End Discretion by sprat
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