Ах, да, я же забыл, что у меня завтра уже начинаются занятия в универе, а я тут прилип к ноуту. Вредная привычка идти спать в пять утра... никак не могу от нее избавиться *ворчит*
Но надо же до конца всех достать своими мюзиклами с фемслешеровскими извращениями и заспойлерить френд-ленту, чо.

Нашел на просторах паутинки фик. и прекрасно написанный, между прочим Угадайте, что за пейринг?

Title: Ready For Love
Rating: R
Fandom: RPF
Pairing: Kristin Chenoweth / Idina Menzel
Spoilers: none
Summary: Idina races the sunrise to say what she needs to.
Disclaimer: You know the drill.

Time's neon digits flicker to 4:07. Idina barely registers the first sound of birdsong as she continues a lazy, inconsistent trail of kisses from the back of Kristin’s neck down to the lumbar curve of her spine. The ‘thank you’ she receives translates into a blissful little moan- Kristin sounds Southern even when she’s not actually speaking- so Idina continues, carefully moving white sheets where they create barriers between her warm mouth and tan skin.

She could go for hours. She’s already proven that much- the thought makes her giggle and Kristin grumbles in turn, shifting beneath her to avoid the sudden cut in her rhythmic breath.

Because mere hours ago, they’d found themselves in the living room recliner, and then in the kitchen, and on the counter, and the carpet in the hallway and finally, finally against the bedroom door.
Because Kristin had begged her, for all kinds of things: for mercy, for release, for a resolution. And Idina had obliged, in all kinds of ways: unrelenting, ravaging her, destroying everything she knew.
Except.

Except it had been nothing like that, not at all. Idina blindly searches for Kristin's hand underneath the covers and grasps tight once she's found it.
What had really happened now seems like a dream to Kristin, a wishful, fleeting thought.

They'd danced, no, swayed, to a liquid beat that had slid past french doors, out onto the balcony and straight to Kristin's heart, syncing and slowly, delicately seducing her. Idina had been eager but endearingly sincere, complimenting the way the city lights tangled in Kristin's smile and pooled in her blue eyes.

Idina always had or found a way, her way of taming cliches; she had it down to a fine art and it never took much for Kristin to hang on to every word.

The August breeze had caressed the smooth planes of Kristin's shoulder blades, much like Idina now, making her skin prickle with heat, with desire. Only now, now it's sweeter, softer; sadder.

There had been Cabernet. Kristin squints at the wine left on the nightstand, at the way it filters the flame, setting the room in sunset shades and leaving cinnamon lingering in her lungs. She eyes Idina's lip print on the crystal's edge. Oh what wonderful things Idina had done to her. The memory, the phantom feeling of Idina's mouth on her has her whimpering sleepily, mesmerised as Idina continues to kiss down her ribs, thick waves of brown hair cascading against her own skin.

Idina had been careful, like she always is, kind and affectionate, patient and willing, meticulous with her eyes and the tips of her fingers. Slowly, she'd unravelled everything Kristin had believed in and everything that had made her. And this, all of it, with only her tongue and teeth and mouth. In her defense, Kristin is delicious- she tastes like honey and salt and it's only natural, she reasons, that she's become so insatiable over night.

And so they had gone like that, crawling into bed as the hours crawled right in beside them. Kristin had whispered 'please' into the silver of the moon and Idina had kissed her, shaking her head with a 'you don't ever have to beg me'. And Kristin's chest had tightened. They'd shared everything until, Kristin concludes if a little theatrically, they'd been both kings and paupers.

For her part, Idina had been terrified. Her hands had shaken and her knees had knocked. Because it hadn't been like this before, so unrushed and easy and undeniably selfless. Kristin had undressed her with great care, as though she'd been opening her favourite present, calling her 'precious' and 'beautiful' with so much conviction, it may as well have been a tragedy. She'd mouthed 'I want to make love' and that confession alone had stood firm and sturdy in the darkness.

What Idina will remember years on, when she's in the arms of someone else- because no fairytale is set in stone- is how Kristin had really looked at her; no one had ever looked at her like that. No one had ever seen her, been bothered to venture past the shy, timid exterior or come close to what Kristin had done, shattering her like a plate tectonic only to piece her back together, stronger than before.
That hunger, that steely determination to show Idina how special what they had was, had been transferred between them so effortlessly, binding them for eternity. Idina had single-handedly brought Kristin to the brink, caught her when she tumbled and coaxed her back into the very real reality of their bed, across to the other side into the bliss that now enveloped them. For Kristin, it felt as though she'd been dragged to the edge of the world and back again- not that she's complaining.
Now Idina nuzzles Kristin’s side and finally scoots up to bury her nose in the strawberry aroma of soft, blonde hair. “Hi.” She clears Kristin’s cheek and pecks it, nibbling on an earlobe, on the diamond embedded there.

She wonders if she could set Kristin off again and tongues the corner of her jaw, trying.
“Mmmhi.”
Then Kristin stretches, like a cat, a lioness, all graceful movements and slender edges, rolling onto her back underneath Idina, hands moving up to push hair away from Idina’s forest-green eyes. “Hi, hey,” she smiles tiredly, thanking this gorgeous woman- for the lovemaking and the company and the way they fit so perfectly- with whisper-soft kisses all over her face. “Hi," she says again, placing her arms around Idina's waist, shifting once again to accommodate the thigh between both of her own.

She thinks she's too spent, too drained, yet her body reacts to the press of Idina's chest, that all-too-wonderful ache settling just beneath her skin, threading through her joints and down, deep into her stomach.

"Whutimeissit?"

"Almost morning, sun's coming up soon," Idina rests their cheeks together. Something hurts. She thinks back on the night, on the whole week in fact, the entire year. She knew long ago that she'd been dying to do things, say things that Broadway stars didn't- not heterosexual, popular, married ones anyway. And that waiting, that longing, had slowly torn at her, unwinding and expanding until it had consumed her every thought and feeling.

That longing had waited for a night, maybe tonight. Maybe now.

But Idina's Idina and she knows a good thing when she has it; jeopardy's out of the question. And yet. And still.

"I'm in love with you Kristin," she confesses. Tears humiliate her, cheating her before she can fight them and the pillow does little to muffle her secret. Kristin doesn't move. This is too much. Is it too much?

Part of her wants to hear it again. But Idina's crying, she's really crying. It's clear she's given up all hope of salvaging her dignity and Kristin listens to her sob. Because 'it's okay' and 'we'll fix this together' just aren't good enough any more.

Ever the logical one, Kristin hugs her fiercely and splays both hands onto Idina's back, covering as much of her as possible. She inhales and squeezes the body above her, hoping they could somehow blend into one. "You know how I feel. You know how I've always felt."

Idina tilts her head slightly and wipes her eyes on Kristin's skin, "I'm s-sorry." The asthma kicks in and she finds herself gasping for breath, hating herself for it.

"Dee? Calm down. Shh. Breathe." More sputtering. "You're working yourself up, calm down, come on. Come on Idina," Kristin uses her sensible voice. She's worried but she refuses to let Idina feel embarrassed.

"I c-can't. I l-love, I love you, I-I...I..."

Kristin has no choice but to push Idina back, framing her face and kissing her soundly, battling the tiny, broken sniffs that struggle against her mouth. "Dee, please," she wipes the tears away, locking her legs around Idina's waist and arching into her, hoping it's a good enough distraction, "not now. You have everything you want. You have me. I'm all yours," she kisses Idina's ear, "I'm all yours, I'm yours."

When Idina's finally reduced to heavy breathing, she swallows thickly, collapsing once again into Kristin's warmth, grasping her. The quiet covers them and Idina's heart slows. "I'm in love with you," she whispers. "I've always known it, I just..." I'm married. This isn't allowed. I'm straight. It won't work.

The thing that Idina never realised before, is that marriage, to her, had only been a piece of paper. It was allowed. There was an exception to every rule. It's been working all along.

Kristin nods, "I know you're scared."

Idina bites the inside of her cheek, running her foot along the side of Kristin's calf until her heel settles into the hollow at the back of Kristin's knee. For once, she lets Kristin hold her. "Aren't you?"

"Yes. And no. And so very much. But the way I see it," and here, Kristin makes sure they're eye to eye, that Idina can see how much she means it, "we've fought so hard. And I never fight for things I don't really, truly want. You have to know that."

"I do, I do know."

"So then you probably know that I feel exactly the same as I did before? That this isn't some game to me. I'm not going to leave in the morning and ignore you at work...because I could get hurt too."

Idina mulls this over. Kristin's right. They're in a fine balance- one slip and they both fall. Then Kristin's real words sink in, the way in which they were spoken, gently, surely.

"It already is morning."

Kristin giggles- the sound brings such complete feeling to Idina, like a cool glass of water after a really long, intense yoga session. "Exactly," Kristin seals their lips in one last kiss, holding close for just that fraction of a moment longer.

P.S. Uh, I've become such a fangirl *рукалицо, мордастол*

@темы: Welcome to Broadway, Gelphie