Title: Kitchen Tryst
Summary: They've become something more than colleagues. Femslash moment between Red & Gloria.
Disclaimer: I do not own OITNB or any of its characters. They belong to Jenji Kohen, I do however own my writing, please don't steal- Johanna002©
Read, Review, Subscribe, Add to Favs
A/N: Please do not let me be alone in shipping these two together.
"Hand me the knife, please." was all I asked of you.
I held out my hand, not looking back in your direction, a knife was all I expected to get, after all. At your request, I was helping prepare a meal that only your family would devour. Instead of the handle of a knife, however, I feel your hand in my palm, tracing down my so called life line and up my wrist, taking hold and wrapping my own arm around my body with yours.
"What the fuck are you doing?" I asked as I felt your warm breath on the cool, sensitive skin of my neck. As always, you send a shiver down my spine.
"Nothing," came your best innocent voice as I felt you press your body against mine.
"I thought you wanted me to cut these potatoes?" I growl.
"Mmhm. I did?" You tell me, as you push harder against my back and I feel my hip bones ache against the countertop from the pressure.
"You did," I confirm as you slip your hand under the hem of my shirt and lazily make circles on my stomach. I try not to flinch at your touch, your scarlet red nails scratching against my stretch marks. I shake my head to dispel the negative thoughts of my self-image. "And now?" I ask as I feel your fingers make their descent from the top of my ribs back down to my hip.
"And now, nothing…" I feel your lips softly tease the skin of my ear.
"Nothing?" I am partly curious and partly annoyed that you're turning this into a mind game. I'm sure that you are going to tease me into submission, just to ask me if I'll cook the entire fucking meal for you.
"Yeah," you say your voice no more than a whisper. "Nothing."
I am dying to look at your face but you show no signs of letting me free from my completely blissful captivity. Your fingertips are filled with fire. I swear they scald my skin. This is so completely unlike you, yet in the way that it is unlike you, it makes it completely like you. Predictable you are not, but bold always.
"Red," I say half speaking, half begging to be released and you finally allow me to turn to you and I meet your mouth half way and kiss you just the way you ask me to. Slowly, softly, sweetly, just the way you like it. It seems, however, the norm is not part of your game and you begin to punish my lips with yours, sucking them, nipping them- assaulting them completely with your lips, your teeth, your tongue.
This new and unfamiliar woman you have morphed into is maddening and I wonder how long you are going to be able to keep this breakneck pace that you have established. I try to retreat, pull back from your onslaught of affections, but you won't allow it. This is your game; you make the rules and it is apparent my only role is to follow them.
I try to say your name but only a sigh is allowed to escape my lips. My throat is dry as I have not had enough time to think, let alone swallow. Your warm lips trace their way down my neck and you nip playfully at my pulse point. The pressure of your teeth against the sensitive skin is the kind of unbearable pleasure I was sure only happened in the trashy romance novels you keep hidden in your locker- the ones you have Lorna check out for you.
I grip tightly to the edge of the countertop behind me. Your hand finds mine and I struggle to keep my hormones in check. My mind races with endless possibilities of what you could be thinking, of what you want to do. My face heats up as the memory from our earlier, afternoon rendezvous in the office, comes to mind. These thoughts along with our actions as of late are still so new and foreign.
My thoughts are fleeting because you are making it impossible to think. I have no idea what has gotten into you, or for lack of a better question- what's gotten into me.
You aren't even really touching me, but I feel you everywhere. Your right hand is still situated on my hip, your mouth is on my neck and your left is covering mine on the counter. Maybe how much restraint you're showing is turn on enough, because I've never been more aroused than I am right now.
I can feel you smile against my skin. Your smirk is that of complete satisfaction. Smug you are about still being able to find a way to surprise me. Just when I think I have you all figured out, you go and do something as simple as this and I go crazy. I'd speak, but I do not trust that there are words in my head to express what I am thinking or feeling at this exact moment.
I feel you pull away and I resist the urge to whimper in protest. You shyly run your fingers over your mouth in a lame attempt to fix your lipstick and gesture to my neck innocently, your eye shining with mirth.
"You're an asshole," I groan, hand moving to my neck. "All I wanted was a knife."
Shrugging, you wink saucily and turn on your heel. "Don't forget to cut up the onions too, please."