Fic: Uninvited | NC17 | The Devil Wears Prada | Miranda/Andy
Title: Uninvited
Author: UbiquitousMixie
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: The Devil Wears Prada
Pairing: Miranda/Andy
Disclaimer: Miranda and Andy belong to Lauren Weisberger and 20th Century Fox.
Summary: Miranda is having a dinner party and Andy isn't invited.
Author's Note: I had a request to write this story, and I am but a humble servant and happily obliged. I hope that she (and all of you readers) have as much fun reading this as I did writing it. Wait. That sounded dirty. I didn't mean it quite that way. Or did I? Either way - enjoy it. I'm not above a little shameless self-promotion either, so if you like what you read, you can find the rest of my work here. Special thanks to Emma for being my beta - she is a rockstar (and a chemistry genius, by the way). Anyway….happy reading. Please oh please comment :D
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Andy stares at the ceiling, drumming her fingers upon her stomach. She hums a bad 80's tune, hoping to drown out the classical music coming from downstairs. It's no use: it's Mozart and Andy loves Mozart and she's upstairs when she really just wants to be downstairs with Miranda.
She's surprised that she's actually disappointed not to be included in the festivities, though she understands Miranda's reasoning. It's a dinner party with a few select investors and board members. It's incredibly ritzy; Nigel wasn't even invited. Apparently with the current economic climate, Irv's been pushing Miranda to wine and dine some potential advertisers. Clandestine May-December lesbian romances don't bring in the big bucks, as Miranda put it. Even though Andy pointed out that their so-called May-December romance has lasted for more than four years and is now legally recognized in a handful of states, Miranda was firm on the subject.
Andy knows better than to argue with Miranda when it comes to work functions. She's been lucky enough to be able to accompany Miranda to quite a few, but she supposes that her winning smile will do little to woo stuck up tight wads.
Still, it would have been nice to be asked.
Andy really doesn't want to be a giant grump tonight. She needs to find something to do until her house is devoid of suits. The twins aren’t home, so she can't piggyback on whatever exciting activity or homework assignment they might have been pursuing. She's got an article to polish before she turns it in tomorrow but she can't muster the motivation to turn on her laptop.
She thinks of Miranda downstairs in a gown the color of cream and gold. Andy remembers the way the halter strap settled around the nape of her neck and the way Miranda shuddered when Andy placed a kiss there only minutes before she went to greet her first guest.
Andy can already feel herself growing slick between her legs.
Though she's not overwhelmingly aroused, relieving the dull ache between her legs would certainly improve her mood. Miranda would approve if only to avoid dealing with a petulant, grouchy lover. As she undoes the button of her jeans and pulls down her zipper, she convinces herself that she's taking one for the team.
Scratching along trimmed hair, she traces her labia, teasing herself the way Miranda does. It's not as good but if she screws her eyes up tight she can almost imagine that it's Miranda's deft fingers doing the job.
Andy's a creative girl, so she pictures Miranda between her legs, tracing wicked circles around her already swollen clit. Andy likes Miranda like this, when she's becoming wet and her folds pucker and swell and her clit hardens and spasms at the faintest touch. It makes her mouth water.
This is taking a lot less time than Andy's expected. She's almost disappointed at how close she is to coming. She slides one finger effortlessly inside her and grinds the heel of her palm against her clit. Her hand is covered in her arousal and she moves easily, swiveling her hips in a steady counter-rhythm that's got her biting her lip and arching her back. She thinks of Miranda, two stories below, and how the Versace dress she's wearing is doing incredible things to her body. She thinks of Miranda's eyes and mouth and tongue. Within moments she's coming with a silent wail, her body convulsing in hard, quick pulses.
Her vision blurs when she opens her eyes and she blinks several times, a goofy grin spreading across her face. Orgasms are definitely good for relieving boredom, stress, and arousal, and Andy is a big fan.
Her stomach grumbles. With an eye roll that would rival Miranda's she removes her hand, wipes it on a tissue, and peers into her purse for an emergency granola bar. She's out. She groans; her last emergency had been yesterday, twenty minutes after lunch.
Andy wonders how badly Miranda would kill her if she snuck downstairs and made a sandwich and as her stomach gives another unpleasant growl she decides to risk it.
She straightens her white t-shirt and readjusts her loose, baggy jeans, wondering if she should change. She doesn't exactly have any spare ball gowns lying around and even if she did decide to borrow something of Miranda's, she is pretty sure that Miranda has told her guests that Andy's out somewhere on assignment.
After making a quick pit stop in the bathroom to wash herself off her hands, she opens the door, peeking out into the hallway. Andy doubts that anyone will have wandered up onto the third floor of the townhouse but she's not going to take the chance.
Andy's pretty sure that she can make it into the kitchen without being noticed; she's been living with the twins for years and has excelled in the ways of stealth sneaking around. Nevertheless, she holds her breath as she descends two flights of stairs and tiptoes past the closed doors of the dining room. She hears Miranda's laugh and something pangs sharply in her chest. She pauses, bites her lip, and continues into the kitchen.
The caterers give her bemused smiles as she helps herself to bread and peanut butter. She smiles as she notes that they're preparing the desserts. After the guests pick and poke for twenty minutes at the delicious-looking tortes, Miranda will serve various liquors and sweet-talk them into signing lucrative contracts. Andy does not doubt Miranda's capabilities in any way. Even Irv has to be impressed.
Andy throws together a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and sneaks into the study down the hall from the dining room. She knows she should have stayed in the kitchen but the caterers are bustling around and Andy really doesn't want to be in the way. Last time she hid out in the kitchen, there was a mishap involving a flying tray of salads and a shattered crystal decanter of wine. Andy is still trying to live that down.
She thinks Miranda will lead them all into the living room anyway: there's more spacious seating. It'd be too cramped in the study to schmooze them all properly. She has a look around -- the room is devoid of contracts or other things that might signal their upcoming presence, so she settles back in the roomy leather chair and eats her sandwich.
As she finishes her last bite of sandwich and licks strawberry jelly off of her finger, she hears commotion coming from the hall. Dessert is over and the party has adjourned to the living room. Andy considers crawling under the desk and hiding out until they're gone just to be safe but decides against it. It's her damn house too and she'll be damned if she can't enjoy a sandwich.
She leans back and listens to the muffled voices. They all sound pretty genial, which makes her think that the party's going well. Well, at least there's that. She may have been banished to the upstairs like a naughty puppy but at least Miranda got the job done.
Andy considers peeking out the door to ascertain whether or not it's safe to sneak back upstairs, but before she can stand up the door opens.
Miranda sweeps into the room, kicking the door shut behind her. In her hand she holds a stack of papers. Andy smiles at the sight of her. Even though she sees her every day, Miranda is still a sight for sore eyes. Andy feels the familiar rush of warmth hit her insides. Miranda looks exceptionally amazing tonight--she's wearing a cream-colored, one-of-a-kind Versace gown, embellished with beads along the bodice. There's also a dangerously high slit up the side and Andy feels a stab of jealousy at the knowledge that a dozen men have been able to ogle her for hours.
As Miranda crosses the room and moves towards the desk, she finally notices Andy sitting in the dim light of the room. She gasps, her hand pressed to her throat. "What are you doing down here in the dark?"
"I made a sandwich," Andy replies, watching Miranda place the papers in a file folder. She regards Andy warily. "I finished it."
"Didn't you eat earlier? Before the party?"
"Well, yea," Andy says indignantly. "I got hungry again."
"You're not sulking, are you?"
"Sulking? Over what?"
"Over not being at the party."
"I'm not a child, Miranda."
"I didn't say you were."
"It doesn't matter if I'm at the party or not, but you don't have to hide me away. I live here too. What's wrong with wanting a damn sandwich?" Andy knows she's being irrational. She knows this isn't what Miranda needs right now. She knows a lot of things, but apparently her brain isn't in on the thought process.
"Now now," Miranda says, her voice low and soothing. She leans over the chair, takes Andy's cheek in her palm, and offers a sweet, placating kiss on Andy's mouth. "You know I want you there, my darling."
"Then why aren't I?"
Rather than balk at the question or roll her eyes in annoyance, Miranda kisses Andy once more. "Tonight is important. I need to land these accounts. If you were there--"
"I'd scare away all the big, conservative men with the giant neon 'lesbo' sign above my head?"
Miranda purses her lips. "If you'd allow me to finish a sentence, you'd have heard me say that I can't have you there because I can't have the distraction."
"Good distraction or bad distraction?"
Miranda strokes her fingers beneath Andy's chin. "Difficult to say. I guarantee I would not have landed this deal had you been present. An inability to keep my hands off you is not an effective trait of a businesswoman."
"Maybe they would have liked it," Andy grins, cupping Miranda's cheek. She strokes her thumb over one rosy cheekbone and Miranda leans her face into the caress, her eyes closed as if in a state of bliss.
Miranda's eyes open and she takes Andy's hand in her own, bringing her fingertips to her mouth as if to kiss her knuckles. Instead, she inhales. Her eyelids flutter.
"You've certainly been busy."
"Couldn't help it."
"No? You couldn't wait several hours until I was free?"
Andy shakes her head, her eyes widening as Miranda straddles her hips. She is careful to adjust her dress around her legs, the fabric pooling around her like a waterfall of silk. Andy swallows as she sees the lace edging of Miranda's thigh-high and the garter to which it's attached. Her desire explodes and the effects of her earlier release are forgotten.
"What are--"
"Do you have any idea," Miranda says, her hands on Andy's breasts, "what that does to me?"
Andy can't answer while Miranda's fingers are pinching at her nipples and instead shakes her head.
"The thought of you in our bed, doing that," Miranda sighs and fastens her mouth to Andy's neck.
Andy cries out when Miranda sucks hard on her throat, and Miranda pulls away long enough to shush her. Andy's not sure if this is happening because Miranda made a hugely important deal for work or if it's because she liked the idea of Andy fooling around with herself, but the reason isn't exactly important. Andy's not going to argue if Miranda wants a quickie during a dinner party.
"I've been thinking about you all night," Miranda breathlessly admits before kissing Andy senseless. "That's why you can't be there."
"You make it sound like you knew beforehand."
"I did. I always do. It's always the important functions where you drive me crazy."
"I don't do it on purpose," Andy says before sucking on Miranda's lower lip.
"You don't have to do anything at all." Miranda exhales sharply, closes her eyes, and tilts her forehead against Andy's. Andy thinks she can hear the loud thud of Miranda's rapidly beating heart. Or is that her own? "I should get back."
"No."
"No?"
"You can't leave now," Andy says, her fingers tracing pebbled nipples beneath beads and silk. Andy likes the texture and wants to wrap her lips around one hardened peak through the dress but knows she can't. She licks her lips anyway and Miranda's read her thoughts because she groans softly and arches into her touch.
"I don't--" Miranda sighs again when Andy's hand pushes inside the dress "--have much time."
Andy feels Miranda's wetness seeping through the fabric of her panties. "I don't think it'll take that much time anyway."
Miranda humps her hips against Andy's hand, her hands gripping Andy's shoulders. Fingers twist around the cotton of her t-shirt and Andy takes a heavy breath, unable to believe that she'd been sulking only minutes before.
"Hurry…please," Miranda whimpers, swiping her tongue into Andy's mouth.
There's something about the way that Miranda kisses her that drives her crazy. Andy remembers back in their "courting" phase all those years ago that she'd worried about how they might kiss. Andy has a lot of mouth, and Miranda has a lot of nose, and what if the shapes of their faces didn't allow for proper kissing? What a stupid worry that had been. Andy thinks that, since then, they've spent more time kissing than anything else.
Well, almost anything.
She tucks aside the elastic of Miranda's panties and meets scorching wet heat. She moans into Miranda's mouth, meeting one of Miranda's own cries. The sound of their combined moans makes Andy shudder.
Miranda shifts her hips, unceremoniously impaling herself on two of Andy's fingers. "Uuuh…yes," Miranda groans.
Andy can feel Miranda's wetness leak around her fingers. With a sharp thrust and a jab of her thumb at Miranda's clit, Miranda shrieks and pleads for release. Andy bites her lip and begins to stroke her fingers in a swift rhythm, noting how exceptionally horrid it would be to be caught. She imagines with perfect clarity that Irv Ravitz might decide to look for Miranda and could burst in on them at any moment.
No. She will not think about Irv Ravitz right now.
Instead she focuses on Miranda, who is so wet that she has to have been thinking about this for hours.
Andy's stomach clenches at the sight of Miranda's face. Her eyes are closed and her head is thrown back and her mouth is parted, emitting nonsensical pleas and soft whimpers. The wet slapping of her fingers inside Miranda is loud and raw and erotically charged. As Miranda lifts her hips, Andy poises another finger at her entrance. With her down thrust, Miranda hisses as the third finger stretches within her.
"An--dray--aaah…yes…please," Miranda cries, rocking her hips harder and faster.
Andy curls her free arm around Miranda's waist, anchoring the older woman's body to her as she jerks up against her. "Help me with your clit," Andy says, her wrist and thumb cramping from the awkward angle.
Miranda wastes little time obeying the order and lets go of Andy's shoulders with one hand. She tugs up her dress, further pushes aside the now-soaked panties, and begins to massage her clit with earnest.
Andy can feel Miranda begin to shake against her and she knows her climax is imminent. She curls and twists her fingers, stroking every wall and corner inside Miranda. Her arm burns but it doesn't matter; all that matters is Miranda leaning her head forward into her shoulder and coming with a wail that she muffles with Andy's neck.
Her convulsions are tight and quick, gripping and releasing Andy's fingers like a vise. She can feel the added moisture dripping down her digits.
"Andrea," Miranda purrs, her lips stroking gently against Andy's throat.
Andy has to close her eyes and breathe for a moment to maintain some semblance of control. It's all she can do not to beg Miranda to kneel on the floor and fuck her with her tongue, and she knows that Miranda's got to get back to the party. As it is, she's been gone five minutes too long.
Andy draw Miranda's hand to her lips, sucking each into her mouth and licking off every bit of Miranda's essence. Miranda hums pleasantly and clenches around Andy's fingers once more.
"Thank you for that," Miranda says, moving away her hand so she has access to Andy's mouth. She kisses Andy's breath away and, before Andy can go in for another, pulls away.
Miranda lifts her hips, allowing Andy to slide her fingers out. "Watch the dress," Miranda instructs, readjusting her panties before standing on shaking legs. She readjusts her dress and inspects it for visible signs of what they've just done.
"Don't worry. You're clean. Me on the other hand…" Andy gestures to her shirt, which is coated with a streak of moisture.
"Make sure no one sees you when you go back upstairs."
Andy rolls her eyes. "Don't worry."
Miranda grins and pecks a quick kiss on Andy's mouth before opening a desk drawer. She extracts a stray tube of lipstick-- Andy raises an eyebrow-- and within seconds Miranda is once again transformed into the elegant hostess. Andy tries not to stick her nose in the air; she likes the freshly-fucked wife better.
"I can't imagine that this will last longer than another hour," Miranda says, picking up the file and locking it in the bottom drawer of the desk.
"I hope you're right," Andy replies, drawing her knees to her chest. She watches Miranda smooth a wrinkle out of the dress.
"I'd like these gentlemen out of the house as much as you, my darling." She crosses towards the door. "Now, make sure you leave that situation," Miranda gestures at Andy's lower half, "for me to resolve."
Andy beams. "I'll do my best."
"Yes, do." Miranda reaches for the door.
"Miranda?"
"Hmm?"
"Was it me? Or the contract?"
"Who said the two are mutually exclusive?"
Andy grins. She can settle for both. Though Miranda would never admit it, she knows the division is not exactly equal.
She knows it's her.
And she's damn glad she didn't go to the dinner after all.
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