I do not own Power Rangers: Jungle Fury.

I have not written anything quite like this before.

Francis Faye Fugleman Finds Her Voice

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Okay okay okay okay okay okay-

She's managed to remove his customary plaid overshirt without too much difficulty, Dom smiling at her as he shrugged his way through her fumbling derobement.

It's on the floor now beside him and she's resisting the urge to pick it up, brush it off, and apologize to him for tossing it so dismissively to the floor.

Fold it neatly and put it in a chair or on a hanger.

Completely killing the moment and parading herself as being even more awkward and embarrassing than she already is-

No, this is new Fran and she doesn't stop and pick up clothes in the throes of passion-

'Throes of passion', oh my marinara, I can't possibly -

But she can possibly because Dom is standing there in his v neck short sleeve white shirt and he is so sexy and the white stone necklace he wears all the time is only calling more attention to his perfectly formed collarbones and shoulders and the hollow of his throat that she wants to kiss so desperately she can taste it.

Oh my mozzarella -

And she's staring at him, she's staring and he's smiling, small and secret and she can't stop thinking about the things she wants to do to him and they're all perfectly mild, vanilla, she's sure, but to her they're her wildest dreams and-

She reaches out, reaches up, she reaches out her hands, all the way to his face, that singular face and she brings it closer to her own-

And she kisses him and he kisses her back and she's reaching out her hands out to the hem of his shirt, her fingers they brush his green khaki pants, she's so close to his, well, what's under his pants and oh, she's not ready for this-

But I want to be, I can be -

And she pulls his shirt up, and there's Dom's stomach, his chest and the skin is smooth and she's seen it before on the beach in Spain, she even touched it, was pressed up against it as they played in the waves and he picked her up in his arms, so she's seen it, she's felt it, but not like this-

And she pulls his shirt off over his head and he lets her because it's what Fran wants and she pulls the fabric over his back and not his front, catching his arms behind him and-

And then she stops.

Stops.

And looks at Dom.

Fully looks at him, eyes wide open.

His face, all Nordic/German blond and bone structure.

Those piercing blue eyes, that seem to see her differently than anyone else she knows.

Looking at her now, seeing her, really seeing her, it feels like.

His chest, smooth, just the right amount of muscle, wiry, not bulky and yucky, just him.

And his stomach, flat and lean.

And not really hairless after all.

Because as his pants hang on hips, belt keeping them stubbornly on, she can see in the lamplight that he's got hair, light blond fluff-

And a trail, a trail that starts at his navel, an innie she weirdly wants to stick her tongue in, a trail that starts around that navel-

I want that.

- and disappears down into his pants, where she wants to go, she needs to go but-

Not yet. I'm not ready for that yet.

But I want to be.

And her gaze travels back up, up past all that stomach and chest and throat and-

Dom -

Back up to his face.

Where she always feels exposed and vulnerable and loved and enjoyed and desired and-

And seen.

He's been looking at her the whole time, it seems.

Looking at her while she was looking at him.

While she gazed at him and his exposure.

While she stayed perfectly covered up.

And he stood there before her, gave her time and-

Even though she feels it, feels so exposed and vulnerable and seen already -

And she -

That's not fair.

- decides to make it even.

First she takes a hand that does not shake, it does not shake, thank you very much-

And touches his chest, right there on top of his heart.

She puts her hand there, makes her hand stay still and not shy away, this is Dom and it's okay-

Then she leans forward again, goes up on her tiptoes, kisses him, tastes that mouth, feels him kiss her back, and then she breaks away-

Whatever I want.

And makes another decision.

She puts her arms around him, sees him grin at her closeness, her boldness, maybe her ridiculousness, who knows what he's grinning at but she can't let herself over-analyze this, put herself down, she is doing this and more, and she won't stay in her own way-

And she's pulling the sleeves off him completely, freeing him to do whatever he wants or -

Whatever I want him to do.

And when she let's go of him, yet another article of clothing abandoned on the floor-

He still stays still where she put him and he really would let her be a dominatrix to him if she wanted to, how would she ever manage that-

And she backs up, just a little, slowly takes off her glasses, sex doesn't seem right with spectacles, they're breakable and definitely not tough enough to withstand the nuclear meltdown of Frances Faye Flugeman's blushing death already well advanced in progress.

She holds his gaze in her myopic vision as she takes down her hair from its pigtails, should have done that before riding him on the couch-

Riding him on the couch-

Fluffing out the lanky strands of her brown hair with her fingers.

And taking a deep stabilizing breath.

I can do this.

I can do this.

And she doesn't know how she looks but she can't imagine looking anything other than mousy, old her but Dom is smiling and doesn't seem like she's cringing herself to death-

So she reaches down to the hem of her own shirt.

I can do this.

And pulls it . . .

And he won't laugh at me.

. . . slowly over her head.

Dom's gaze is so intense when she catches sight of him again, practically gleaming, and she's not nearly fainting with the power of this moment, she's not-

And with one hand reaches back-

And unclasps the eye of the B cup she's wearing-

He won't laugh, he won't call them TicTacs-

But he might put them in his mouth though-

His mouth-

And that goes on the floor too and now she's just right out there and it's cold in here but she feels warm when he's grinning at her-

And she boldly and very un-Frances Faye Flugeman, reaches out to his belt, the belt holding his pants in place-

And unclasps it.

And then-

I could do it for him, that would be fun.

. . . stops and-

"You do it. Take off your pants, Dom."

- the surprise on his face is only matched by amusement and enjoyment and-

He's doing it, he's actually doing it, oh my gosh, he's actually doing it.

-and he undoes the button and the zipper -

Oh my marinara, am I actually going to see his pepperoni?

-and pushes them down to his mid-calf-

"Shoes too. And socks."

And she's making sure everything gets out of the way, this 'what you want' thing can only go so far and she doesn't want him to err on the side of obtuseness just for her sake, she needs him-

And he does what she asks and the pants are gone, off him completely, then straightens up-

And there are his bare feet on the floor and his ankles, his calves, his knees, his thighs-

And his underwear.

Black underwear.

Black, what do you call them, boxer briefs.

Dom.

In nothing black boxer briefs and they fit him just right and she can see that he is, well, interested in what's been going on between them and-

Oh yeah-

And she looks up and he's still looking at her, still smiling, and looking and-

"Now take off my pants."

And the words just escape her mouth before she can hesitate to stop them.

"Please."

And it's not really a plea, though she feels like she could do that too-

And his eyes flash again, jaw slackens-

Then his smile widens, she can see all his small, white teeth and-

And then he draws his smile back until it's just a crooked closed line on his mouth and she can see he's breathing through his nose-

He steps forward, his hands go out and touch her-

Well, not really touch her,touch her pants, touch the waistband and gently pull down-

And he's kneeling, Dom's kneeling in front of her, he's very close, well, not very close, no, he's very close to her and she feels like she's sending out waves of desire at him, screaming pheromones or something-

As his hands slowly slide down her hips, over her outer thighs, kneeling as he does so, kneeling right in front of her, right in front of her, inches from -

And she feels like her body, especially that part of her body is practically radiating heat and her desire to explode out in every direction -

And he lifts first one bare foot and then the other to pull the pants off, Fran placing a hand on his naked back to steady herself, feeling more unsteady than ever-

And he stands up, slow, hands following the return trail they followed down, only now there's no clothing between her skin and the palms of those hands gliding up, up, up-

oh gosh-

and she's shivering, shivering, not with cold, no, though her little nips are sure acting like they're cold, standing out and pointing right at him, she should just be embarrassed, with her and her nips and her white cotton undies right there in front of Dominic Hargan and she just wanted brave enough to buy and wear anything lacy and silky and sexy, but it's her her-

And she's trembling on the inside with anticipation and desire and need for completion and release-

And he does not touch her there.

Only simply stands up again-

And then he's standing so close but not touching now, oh sweet mozzarella, she needs him to touch her now-

And she places her hands on that warm, smooth chest again and pushes gently backward-

What I want-

And she can feel herself smiling and Dom's still got that lopsided smile-

And they move together just a few inches.

Until his legs finds the edge of the bed-

And he sits and Fran-

What I want-

-stays standing above him.

And his intense blue gaze is challenging her, his small smile, the clench of his jaw, what a line that jaw has, so defined, so-

His passive presence is challenging her, the tilt of his head as he looks up at her from his submissive position-

To do what?

To walk away with no regret or apology or worry?

To open her mouth and rehash the latest rugby scores?

To-

Do exactly what I want.

Fran's decision, Fran's choice.

And she knows what she wants, she does.

She knows a lot of things she wants.

This first.

"Touch me, Dom. Touch me down there."

Because he wants him to.


Thanks for reading!