A sequel to this: http://hhanon.livejournal.com/2836.html?thread=1818132#t1818132
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Okay.
…So.
He slept with Chris at the weekend. Gave her a pretty passionate shagging (oh god, no wonder everybody hates him), in fact, that left dents on the sofa and led to Judith yelling at them for hours while his mind was rather stuck on the fact that Chris was not wearing a bra under her shirt and Chris’ nipples were free to roam the world and a thousand other weird things that rather took away from all attempts at concentration.
…But that’s alright.
For today is a fresh day, two days later in fact, and they can happily move beyond that stage. No matter that he was rather distracted on both Saturday night and Sunday night by the thought of Chris perching warmly in his lap, no matter that he still can’t stop thinking about rolling his mouth around her nipple repeatedly until she uses swear words so inventive that even a sailor would blush – it is over, it was casual, he can visit her at work with not a single inappropriate thought or problematic moment to trouble them-!
“Hi Tim!” Chris chirps the moment she sees him, and backs him against a wall a second later.
…Ah.
Well.
That lasted for long.
“Chris,” he says desperately. Drawing back from the kiss and encountering that familiar, friendly problem of having absolutely nowhere to put his flailing hands, “it’s 9:30 in the morning.”
“So?” She says brightly, beaming up at him and pushing her breasts rather firmly against his chest.
…Ah, that could also be a problem, “it’s a Monday.”
“So?”
“…Shouldn’t you be open?”
Hr only response is a slow, scornful eyebrow raise… Oh, and a pinch of his bum! How lovely that they appear to have reached that point, how wonderful that they appear to have charged into the wild lands of bottom grabbing without a single pause or rather sensible moment of hesitation!
“Chris,” he says desperately, moving her hands away and firmly trying to ignore the leg being slowly pressed between his, “I thought you said it was just a casual shag on a Saturday afternoon?”
“Well…” She screws up her face for only a moment, mainly because she can and somebody, somewhere, might end up screaming at the sheer terror of it, “I did say ‘well’.”
“…And how does that excuse anything?”
“It doesn’t excuse anything, it excuses everything,” another pause, another face – one drawn from her magical kingdom of faces that are used to scare poor children, pensioners, and nervous people around the world, “though everything actually includes anything when I think about it. So it also excuses anything!”
UNPROMPTED: Next Monday Morning, Female!Chris/Tim, NC-17 [1/4] [Spy]
--
Okay.
…So.
He slept with Chris at the weekend. Gave her a pretty passionate shagging (oh god, no wonder everybody hates him), in fact, that left dents on the sofa and led to Judith yelling at them for hours while his mind was rather stuck on the fact that Chris was not wearing a bra under her shirt and Chris’ nipples were free to roam the world and a thousand other weird things that rather took away from all attempts at concentration.
…But that’s alright.
For today is a fresh day, two days later in fact, and they can happily move beyond that stage. No matter that he was rather distracted on both Saturday night and Sunday night by the thought of Chris perching warmly in his lap, no matter that he still can’t stop thinking about rolling his mouth around her nipple repeatedly until she uses swear words so inventive that even a sailor would blush – it is over, it was casual, he can visit her at work with not a single inappropriate thought or problematic moment to trouble them-!
“Hi Tim!” Chris chirps the moment she sees him, and backs him against a wall a second later.
…Ah.
Well.
That lasted for long.
“Chris,” he says desperately. Drawing back from the kiss and encountering that familiar, friendly problem of having absolutely nowhere to put his flailing hands, “it’s 9:30 in the morning.”
“So?” She says brightly, beaming up at him and pushing her breasts rather firmly against his chest.
…Ah, that could also be a problem, “it’s a Monday.”
“So?”
“…Shouldn’t you be open?”
Hr only response is a slow, scornful eyebrow raise… Oh, and a pinch of his bum! How lovely that they appear to have reached that point, how wonderful that they appear to have charged into the wild lands of bottom grabbing without a single pause or rather sensible moment of hesitation!
“Chris,” he says desperately, moving her hands away and firmly trying to ignore the leg being slowly pressed between his, “I thought you said it was just a casual shag on a Saturday afternoon?”
“Well…” She screws up her face for only a moment, mainly because she can and somebody, somewhere, might end up screaming at the sheer terror of it, “I did say ‘well’.”
“…And how does that excuse anything?”
“It doesn’t excuse anything, it excuses everything,” another pause, another face – one drawn from her magical kingdom of faces that are used to scare poor children, pensioners, and nervous people around the world, “though everything actually includes anything when I think about it. So it also excuses anything!”
…Oh Chris.