Mid-Twenties Crisis?
Nov. 23rd, 2009 11:47 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
templargirldoes that thing even exist? i'm pretty happy with the way my life has gone so far, but still it feels weird to say that i'm going to be 25 in exactly 14 minutes from now (11.46pm in here)
well, if you see me getting even weirder than usual, you'll know why ;)
well, if you see me getting even weirder than usual, you'll know why ;)
Hey, happy birthday, have some fic! (Keith/Rachel - "Hannity Watching")
Date: 2009-11-24 09:51 am (UTC)Rachel shakes her head and adds a splash of bourbon to both of their glasses. "There's just something about seeing my name on the banner at the top of the screen. It's weird. You don't feel that way?"
"I guess you get used to it," Keith answers. He snatches up a fistful of popcorn. "So, if not the Rachel Maddow Show, then what?"
Rachel shrugs and tries to think. They've finally coordinated a day off together and all they can think to do is sit on Keith's couch, doing what 90% of waking Americans are doing at the exact same moment, wondering what the hell to watch on TV.
"Well, we could always check on your competitor," Keith finally offers.
Rachel snorts. "Good ol' Sean? Hey, why not? We've got the popcorn."
Keith flips through a few channels before he finally finds the one he wants. Soon, they're both transfixed.
"I think I see why people keep watching him," Rachel breathes. "He's just... unending train wreck of... draining wit... I..."
Rachel collapses onto Keith's shoulder with an "oof" and he just barely maintains control over the popcorn bowl. He reaches forward and slides the bowl onto the coffee table.
"You okay there, Rach?"
She doesn't respond, even going so far as to hold her breath.
"Don't make me do CPR, because I'm warning you, I have no qualms."
Rachel lets out a burst of air. "Even with my coffee breath? You wouldn't dare."
"Did you say dare?" Keith asks, shifting around a little look over at her. She's holding her breath again and he watches how still she can keep her chest for a few seconds before he finally twists around and starts ticking up her ribs.
"Ack! Keith!" she yelps, swatting his hands away. "I've taken a first aid course before and that is not how CPR works."
"Oh really?" he asks. He slips off of the couch, grunting as his knees hit the floor by the couch. Then, he's tickling her again, holding back her arms as best he can with one hand as the other grasps the edge of her shirt.
"Is it like this, then?"
"Oh no, oh no! Keith!"
His lips press hard against her stomach and she's already kicking and squealing before he even lays the raspberry against her skin.
"Ugh, I hate you," she groans as he lifts his head only to drop down again, blowing his lips up and down her ribs.
"You do not," he answers, raising his head again to look up at her. He lets her arms drop then, leaning away a little. Then, he smirks and holds up his hands. "But, fine, truce?"
She considers him quietly for a few seconds before she pounces.
"Never!"
She's just careful enough not to slam his back against the metal frame behind him, but caution doesn't stop her from wrapping her legs around his waist and pinning his arms against the cold surface of the glass tabletop.
Keith lets out a mixture of a grunt and a gasp, taking a second to catch his breath before saying, "Good work. Now you've got me held down with no hands to work with."
"Don't need them," Rachel answers. She leans forward and presses her lips to his cheek. His whole body stiffens in the second it takes for her blow out. Her mouth makes a weak squeak of a noise against his skin, but not much else.
Keith laughs then. "Well, that was pretty weak."
"Shut up, Kent Jones," she whines as she lets go of his arms. Then, she's going for his shirttail, but he doesn't let her. Instead, he immediately grabs her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and pulling her to his chest. He tries to lift her off of the floor and, even though she isn't all that heavy (okay, she's kind of heavy), he only gets her halfway onto the couch before he collapses on top of her.
"Oh God," she grunts. "I think you just broke my femur."
"Wait. I'll check." He leans back, circling his hands around her thigh. When his thumbs and middle fingers meet and then overlap, he freezes again. "We've got to talk to your handlers about your feeding schedule."
"What?" she asks. "You're not into heroin chic?"
"Not since the very early nineties," he answers. "And that was just a phase."
Rachel shifts her hips down a little. "And I'm really not all that skinny. Maybe you're testing too low. I think you're just missing the beefy parts."
Keith slides his hands up another inch and squeezes down. "No... still bony."
He's about to go one further when Rachel starts to laugh.
"What?" he asks, though he doesn't lift his hands.
Rachel snorts, then laughs again. "It's Hannity! He's staring at us. It's really really creeping me out, actually."
Keith disengages his hands from Rachel's thigh and turns around, catching Sean Hannity's frozen face.
"Oh God, he is. Why is he doing that?"
"I don't know!" Rachel laughs. "Quick! Get the remote!"
Keith's already fishing it out from between the cushions. He presses the power button and Hannity disappears with a satisfying click.
Rachel lets out an exaggerated sigh of relief. "Thank you, Keith. That was horrible."
"Any time," he answers, suddenly aware of the way he's half straddling her knee. He starts to lift himself off of her when her hands fall lightly on his waist.
"Wait."
"Hmm?" He leans against his palms on the couch.
"You didn't finish telling me your revised opinions on my thigh size."
"Sorry," he answers. "Hannity distracted me."
Rachel laughs. "What a burn, completely ignored in favor of Sean the Loon. Though maybe you'd like to test the meat on his thighs, instead..."
"That's absolutely terrifying," Keith says, his face contorting with mock horror.
Rachel lifts her hips a little, pressing her knee between his legs. "Then stop thinking about it."
He shifts away a little, but she just follows him.
"What are you doing?" he grunts.
She smirks. "Tormenting you. Now, tell me about my thighs."
Keith drops a hand down onto the denim covering her knee.
"Well," he begins, letting his fingers slowly crawl up her thigh. He briefly wonders if maybe he should just start tickling her again. Then, they can order something to eat and find something better on TV.
Rachel presses her knee in harder, her hands tugging at his waist and he realizes that, in the time it took him to think of an escape plan, his fingers have stopped crawling up and started making little circles inward. His hand stalls on her inner thigh and he feels the way the cloth is warmer there, the heat rising up from between her legs. He stares at his fingers for a second until he notices that she's looking up at him.
"Go on," she breathes.
Before he can even really process what they're doing, he's got his hand cupped between her legs and she's grinding slowly against the heel of his palm as she rocks her knee against his hardening cock. Then, he's sliding up her thigh, straddling her hips on the couch as she pulls his Polo shirt over his head.
He should have expected the raspberry, but he doesn't. He almost tumbles backwards off of the couch when she presses her mouth against his stomach and puffs her cheeks, but she has him by the belt and he just teeters a little before falling back on top of her. As he finds his balance, she struggles out of her shirt and then slips her arms around his chest, pressing their bodies together.
"Sorry," she laughs. "I couldn't help it."
He's say something back, but he's too busy taking in how soft her skin feels against his. He holds her for a few seconds before finally whispering, "Can we go to the bedroom."
"It'd probably be safer," she agrees, and he gracelessly drags himself to his feet, tugging her up off of the couch.
In the bedroom, Keith wrestles Rachel onto her back, though he doesn't tickle or otherwise torture her this time. Instead, his lips fall onto her breasts, his tongue running circles around her nipple as his hands fumble with her belt. She slides her fingers down his back, rocking against his thigh until the buckle finally springs loose. He nips lightly at her breast and then leans back, watching her fingers pop open his button and draw his zipper down. Then, he drops to the side of the bed, stepping out of his pants and underwear as he watches her strip herself of the rest of her clothes.
He crosses the room to his dresser without even asking, digging through the top drawer until he finds a condom. Rachel's sitting up slightly when he returns to the bed, and she leans forward and grabs his hand, pulling him gently toward her.
A minute later, he's slipping down between her thighs, her hands on his hips, steadying him as he finds the right angle and slowly pushes into her. Rachel moans low as Keith presses deeper, and he feels it in his stomach, echoing it with his own moan. He works an arm behind her shoulder and slides his other hand between them, resting his fingers on her hip as she starts to rock underneath him.
It's slow at first, not quite cautious, but measured, as he drives in further, figuring out her depths. And she seems content with this, closing her eyes and rocking back, taking him in. Then, his thumb finds her clit, hunting through her wetness to circle and tease, and she starts to buck beneath him, soft sighs giving in to moans and gasps as he draws her closer, moving with her in thrusts and dips. Her lips find his jaw, working their way up until she's whispering in his ear, muttering a mixture of demands and pleas.
He pushes hard into her and feels her teeth close on his earlobe.
"Rachel--" he gasps, and then she's coming around him, the sudden tightness pulling him into his own orgasm.
Keith drops his hand away first, still rocking for a few more seconds as she settles around him again. Then, he slowly slides off of her, carefully rolling her onto her side as he snuggles against her back, lightly kissing her neck and shoulder. She relaxes against him with a soft laugh.
"What?" he asks.
She shrugs against his chest. "Nothing exactly. Just, hello, night off. Not exactly what I expected..."
"Is that bad?" Keith asks, starting to go tense again.
Rachel rolls over and kisses him on the chin. "Not at all."
"We could order something to eat in a bit, if you wanted. Or, I've got a TV in here..."
"Just no more Fox, please?" Rachel grunts.
Keith smirks. "If you insist."
She kisses his chin again, then moves on to his lips.
Re: Hey, happy birthday, have some fic! (Keith/Rachel - "Hannity Watching")
Date: 2009-11-24 08:37 pm (UTC)thank you so much &hearts
Re: Hey, happy birthday, have some fic! (Keith/Rachel - "Hannity Watching")
Date: 2009-11-24 09:34 pm (UTC)