Log in

No account? Create an account

Previous Entry | Next Entry

fic: Ridin' High

Title: Ridin' High
Fandom: Guys and Dolls
Pairing: Sky/Sarah
Rating: R
Length: 489
Content notes: inexplicit reference to a character's memory of childhood pleasure not recognized as sexual at the time
Author note: Written for the Up challenge at [community profile] fan_flashworks. This fic is for Owl-by-Night, with thanks for her encouragement.
Summary: It can't be a sin if you're married, Adelaide had said.

It can't be a sin if you're married, Adelaide had said. Try it, honey, you'll like it, and he'll go crazy for it.

Don't tell me! Sarah said at first, scandalized, but curiosity got the better of her in the end. Now she looks at her sleeping husband, and she wonders.

When did it start, that equation of pleasure with sin? It feels like it's been there her whole life -

A summer's day at the State Fair, the only time her mother let her go. How old was she then - eight? Nine? Nine, because it was Susie Kennedy's ninth birthday party. Riding on the carousel for the first and last time, the joy of the movement so sweet and sharp it made her breathless and red in the face. She knew not to tell about it after, though she didn't know why.

Nothing like that again, until last night. If she'd thought she felt good in Havana on dulce de leche and kisses...

Her face scalds with heat at the memory of those slow insistent caresses, and the flickers of pleasure that came and went and came again and stayed, till she couldn't breathe right or see straight, could barely recognize the voice crying out as her own. She'd called him Sky, at the last: there wasn't enough breath in her body for more than the O of Obadiah.

She leans over him to whisper “Good morning”, and her hair tickles his nose. He opens his eyes and grins up at her, the look of a gambler who can't believe his luck.

“Hey, you,” he says huskily, and reaches up to cup her face.

“Hey yourself,” she says, and turns her head to kiss his palm.

“Mmm,” he says, and wriggles luxuriously. “How do you feel?”

There's a mixture of tenderness and mischief in the question that makes her heart thump. “Never better,” she says defiantly.

“Truly?” He strokes his thumb across her lips and it's there again, that first tingle of pleasure, like a question she knows the answer to now.

“Truly,” she says. “Here, I'll show you if you don't believe me.”

He catches his breath as she takes him in hand, and the feel of him, velvet-smooth and hard and blood-hot, makes her ache with wanting. It's the easiest thing in the world to swing her leg over and climb on top of him, to push down against him till he's all the way in and they're both gasping at how good it feels.

Adelaide was right: she does like it this way, and he loves it. Sarah knows that remembering the look on his face and the sounds he made will have her blushing as red as her uniform for days, astonished at her own shamelessness. Right now, though, she's past caring about sin or shame or anything in the world but this, the fierceness of her own desire and the thrill of the ride.


Title from the song of the same name by Cole Porter - after I wrote this I remembered that it also appears in another of his songs, From This Moment On, which in casting terms is a happy coincidence.

Also posted at http://fengirl88.dreamwidth.org/202946.html with comment count unavailable comments.


scallop voices


Powered by LiveJournal.com