Falling Into Place | NC17 | Amy Adams/Meryl Streep RPF
Title: Falling Into Place
Challenge: Amy Adams/Meryl Streep, RPF
Rating: NC17
Word Count: 1218
Disclaimer: Not mine. Wish they were. Please don't sue.
Author's Note: Is it just me or does it seem like Amy Adams has been pregnant for *forever*? I’ve been wanting to write another Meryl/Amy fic for a while now, but because I have such a long list of other fics to write, this is a little shorter than the others. Special thanks to tuathadedanaa for the Meryl/Amy brainstorming/daydreaming/wishful thinking session. Hope you all enjoy!
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For the fifth night in a row, Amy has the dream again. She wakes up in a sweat, attributed to both nerves and arousal, and presses a quick hand to her swollen abdomen. She feels the solid pressure of the baby against her but, just to be sure, she checks between her legs for the tell-tale signs of beginning the birthing process. There is nothing, only the slick heat of her aroused sex.
She lets out a sigh. It was just a dream. She’s still pregnant.
She’s still pregnant.
She’s overdue by almost two weeks now. Her child has obstinately decided that it is not ready to enter the world and has been sitting tight, performing the occasional gymnastic routine between lazy stretches. It’s as though the baby has decided that it much prefers the warm cocoon of Amy’s womb rather than the uncertainties of the cold, crazy world outside. Amy can’t blame her; she sometimes wishes that she could return to that place without a care in the world. And yet, at the same time, she feels a little clench in her heart and wants to prove to her child that she will be a good enough mother to protect her and keep her safe.
Amy feels as though she’s been pregnant for ten years already and half-expects that she is going to give birth to a four-foot child. While she’s nervous about the prospects of having a little human of her very own to raise, she’s pretty much over being pregnant. She could do without the heartburn and the swollen ankles and the exhaustion and the constant need to pee.
The doctor has told her that intercourse will potentially induce labor. She and Darren have tried it a few times, encouraged by the doctor’s assurance that semen helps soften the cervix, but have obviously had no luck so far. The idea is appealing but, as she looks over at her sleeping fiancé, her desire wanes. She’s more than ready; all she would really have to do is lean closer, stroke his bicep, and blow on his ear. She’s wet enough to be entered without the necessary foreplay. She knows he’d be more than happy to take advantage of her sudden desire for sex, but it’s not what she wants.
Amy closes her eyes and recalls the dream. Her heart thuds a little faster in her chest as she remembers every detail with startling clarity. She can see Meryl almost as vividly as if the woman were standing in front her. She loses her breath and wishes that Meryl were there.
It’s been a long time since Amy’s seen her, not since the Academy Awards. She’d been a vision in white and if Amy had not been hindered by her massive belly, she’d have been hard-pressed to control the urge to take her in a dark corner. She’d wanted to, desperately; it’s been too long since they’ve been able to properly see each other. Amy aches for it. She misses Meryl’s touch so much it hurts.
She reckons that’s why she’s been having these dreams so often. Her mind creates scenarios that cannot happen or conjures up memories of past encounters. She remembers fucking Meryl on the set of Doubt, taking her on Sister Aloysius’s desk. She remembers being devoured by Meryl’s hungry mouth when they had cooking lessons for Julie & Julia. She remembers the time Meryl pressed her against the wall of a bathroom stall, and the time when she masturbated for Meryl’s eager, ever-watchful eyes when they were meant to be running lines. She remembers having to leave the Golden Globes early (before Meryl’s win), because her own arousal stained her dress after being fingered in an empty closet.
Her body burns and throbs with each memory. Amy feels her arousal further soak her underwear. She slips a hand inside her panties, hissing as her fingers press between her engorged lips. She wishes desperately that it were Meryl’s hand instead. The older woman knows just how to touch her, knows every sweet spot that gets her going and makes her entire body hum with need. She wrenches her eyes closed and remembers tonight’s scenario: Meryl had knelt at the foot of her bed and went down on her.
The very idea of Meryl in Amy’s own bedroom gives her a jolt of pleasure. She can see the blonde actress fitting in well in the small, well-lit room, and can see her comfortably kneeling upon the carpet. Amy pictures Meryl’s head bobbing between her legs and pictures rug burned knees and a come-covered chin and has to stifle a moan as her clit throbs beneath her slick fingers.
Amy can’t remember the last time she’s felt so good touching herself; self-pleasure can never compare to the way that Meryl makes her feel. But this…she feels almost like she’s depriving a partner from something wonderful. She should want to share this with Darren, but it’s Meryl that she wants. It’s always Meryl.
With her free hand, Amy palms a large, heavy breast. Her nipples are extremely sensitive now and as she pinches and twists a hardened peak, she pretends that it is Meryl who is teasing her mercilessly. She hasn’t touched herself here in ages; nipple stimulation is also said to induce labor, and before she became overdue she had strictly avoided the area so the baby didn’t arrive too early. But this feels exquisite and if she tries hard enough, Amy can pretend that Meryl’s mouth is wrapped around it, flicking it with her tongue.
Amy begins to work her fingers more quickly over her clit, hardly able to believe that she’s lasted this long without coming. Her back aches in her attempt to arch it and her arm cramps from the awkward angle of bypassing her belly, but she is too focused on the ghost of Meryl’s mouth on her clit to resent the impositions of pregnancy.
Amy bites her shoulder to muffle her cry when she comes, her body pulsing in long, hard waves. She feels it everywhere, thrumming throughout every inch of her body. She wants to moan, wants to hear the sound of her own voice comingled with Meryl’s. She focuses on the memory of her lover’s sighs and rides out each impossibly long wave of her orgasm. She feels as though she’s going to come to death.
Or, at least, come so hard she gives birth.
She gives a little sigh of relief when her water breaks before she begins to panic. This is it. She is a little disappointed that she cannot enjoy the afterglow of such a powerful orgasm, and even more disappointed that Meryl had not been the one to bring it on in the first place. But she has, in a way, and it makes Amy feel a little bit closer to her lover.
She shakes Darren and tells him that it’s time. He frantically scurries around their bedroom and as she prepares herself to head to the hospital, she thinks once more of Meryl. She cannot wait to call her to tell her about having the baby. She cannot wait to introduce her to her child. Mostly, she cannot wait to see her again and feel as though everything in her life is in place.
---
Challenge: Amy Adams/Meryl Streep, RPF
Rating: NC17
Word Count: 1218
Disclaimer: Not mine. Wish they were. Please don't sue.
Author's Note: Is it just me or does it seem like Amy Adams has been pregnant for *forever*? I’ve been wanting to write another Meryl/Amy fic for a while now, but because I have such a long list of other fics to write, this is a little shorter than the others. Special thanks to tuathadedanaa for the Meryl/Amy brainstorming/daydreaming/wishful thinking session. Hope you all enjoy!
-
For the fifth night in a row, Amy has the dream again. She wakes up in a sweat, attributed to both nerves and arousal, and presses a quick hand to her swollen abdomen. She feels the solid pressure of the baby against her but, just to be sure, she checks between her legs for the tell-tale signs of beginning the birthing process. There is nothing, only the slick heat of her aroused sex.
She lets out a sigh. It was just a dream. She’s still pregnant.
She’s still pregnant.
She’s overdue by almost two weeks now. Her child has obstinately decided that it is not ready to enter the world and has been sitting tight, performing the occasional gymnastic routine between lazy stretches. It’s as though the baby has decided that it much prefers the warm cocoon of Amy’s womb rather than the uncertainties of the cold, crazy world outside. Amy can’t blame her; she sometimes wishes that she could return to that place without a care in the world. And yet, at the same time, she feels a little clench in her heart and wants to prove to her child that she will be a good enough mother to protect her and keep her safe.
Amy feels as though she’s been pregnant for ten years already and half-expects that she is going to give birth to a four-foot child. While she’s nervous about the prospects of having a little human of her very own to raise, she’s pretty much over being pregnant. She could do without the heartburn and the swollen ankles and the exhaustion and the constant need to pee.
The doctor has told her that intercourse will potentially induce labor. She and Darren have tried it a few times, encouraged by the doctor’s assurance that semen helps soften the cervix, but have obviously had no luck so far. The idea is appealing but, as she looks over at her sleeping fiancé, her desire wanes. She’s more than ready; all she would really have to do is lean closer, stroke his bicep, and blow on his ear. She’s wet enough to be entered without the necessary foreplay. She knows he’d be more than happy to take advantage of her sudden desire for sex, but it’s not what she wants.
Amy closes her eyes and recalls the dream. Her heart thuds a little faster in her chest as she remembers every detail with startling clarity. She can see Meryl almost as vividly as if the woman were standing in front her. She loses her breath and wishes that Meryl were there.
It’s been a long time since Amy’s seen her, not since the Academy Awards. She’d been a vision in white and if Amy had not been hindered by her massive belly, she’d have been hard-pressed to control the urge to take her in a dark corner. She’d wanted to, desperately; it’s been too long since they’ve been able to properly see each other. Amy aches for it. She misses Meryl’s touch so much it hurts.
She reckons that’s why she’s been having these dreams so often. Her mind creates scenarios that cannot happen or conjures up memories of past encounters. She remembers fucking Meryl on the set of Doubt, taking her on Sister Aloysius’s desk. She remembers being devoured by Meryl’s hungry mouth when they had cooking lessons for Julie & Julia. She remembers the time Meryl pressed her against the wall of a bathroom stall, and the time when she masturbated for Meryl’s eager, ever-watchful eyes when they were meant to be running lines. She remembers having to leave the Golden Globes early (before Meryl’s win), because her own arousal stained her dress after being fingered in an empty closet.
Her body burns and throbs with each memory. Amy feels her arousal further soak her underwear. She slips a hand inside her panties, hissing as her fingers press between her engorged lips. She wishes desperately that it were Meryl’s hand instead. The older woman knows just how to touch her, knows every sweet spot that gets her going and makes her entire body hum with need. She wrenches her eyes closed and remembers tonight’s scenario: Meryl had knelt at the foot of her bed and went down on her.
The very idea of Meryl in Amy’s own bedroom gives her a jolt of pleasure. She can see the blonde actress fitting in well in the small, well-lit room, and can see her comfortably kneeling upon the carpet. Amy pictures Meryl’s head bobbing between her legs and pictures rug burned knees and a come-covered chin and has to stifle a moan as her clit throbs beneath her slick fingers.
Amy can’t remember the last time she’s felt so good touching herself; self-pleasure can never compare to the way that Meryl makes her feel. But this…she feels almost like she’s depriving a partner from something wonderful. She should want to share this with Darren, but it’s Meryl that she wants. It’s always Meryl.
With her free hand, Amy palms a large, heavy breast. Her nipples are extremely sensitive now and as she pinches and twists a hardened peak, she pretends that it is Meryl who is teasing her mercilessly. She hasn’t touched herself here in ages; nipple stimulation is also said to induce labor, and before she became overdue she had strictly avoided the area so the baby didn’t arrive too early. But this feels exquisite and if she tries hard enough, Amy can pretend that Meryl’s mouth is wrapped around it, flicking it with her tongue.
Amy begins to work her fingers more quickly over her clit, hardly able to believe that she’s lasted this long without coming. Her back aches in her attempt to arch it and her arm cramps from the awkward angle of bypassing her belly, but she is too focused on the ghost of Meryl’s mouth on her clit to resent the impositions of pregnancy.
Amy bites her shoulder to muffle her cry when she comes, her body pulsing in long, hard waves. She feels it everywhere, thrumming throughout every inch of her body. She wants to moan, wants to hear the sound of her own voice comingled with Meryl’s. She focuses on the memory of her lover’s sighs and rides out each impossibly long wave of her orgasm. She feels as though she’s going to come to death.
Or, at least, come so hard she gives birth.
She gives a little sigh of relief when her water breaks before she begins to panic. This is it. She is a little disappointed that she cannot enjoy the afterglow of such a powerful orgasm, and even more disappointed that Meryl had not been the one to bring it on in the first place. But she has, in a way, and it makes Amy feel a little bit closer to her lover.
She shakes Darren and tells him that it’s time. He frantically scurries around their bedroom and as she prepares herself to head to the hospital, she thinks once more of Meryl. She cannot wait to call her to tell her about having the baby. She cannot wait to introduce her to her child. Mostly, she cannot wait to see her again and feel as though everything in her life is in place.
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