Yours & Mine | NC17 | The Closer
Title: Yours & Mine
Prompt: Brenda doesn’t do well with the fact that Sharon is the new Brenda.
Fandom: Brenda/Sharon, The Closer
Requested by: imustgofirst
Rating: NC17
Word Count: 1874
Disclaimer: Not mine. Wish they were. Please don't sue.
Author's Note: Set in the Major Crimes ‘verse. This is an incentive fic for i-must-go-first, who is continuing to kick ass on her dissertation AND was just an academic rockstar at a fancy conference this past weekend. I hope you all enjoy the story - let me know what you think. Comments are better than cupcakes. (Bonus points to awesome readers who send along motivational well wishes to i-must-go-first for her academic bad-assery!)
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Brenda knew that she was being ridiculous. She knew that she was being irrational. What made it worse was the fact that she had an audience-the knowledge that her lover also knew she was being ridiculous only made her slump further into her sofa and wish she could talk to a piece of cake about her woes.
She picked absent-mindedly at a thread on the hem of her skirt, shifting her torso in an attempt to lessen the uncomfortable coil of tension in the pit of her abdomen.
“Brenda, are you still sulking?”
“You made me wait outside! In the car! You wouldn’t even let me wait in my office!” She twisted her mouth and bit the inside of her cheek. “And I’m not sulking,” she added dully.
“My office, Brenda.” There was a pause; though Brenda couldn’t see Sharon, she knew that the older woman had just taken in a deep, fortifying breath, perhaps even pinched the bridge of her nose. “You know perfectly well why I requested you wait in the car, considering what happened last time.”
Brenda rolled her eyes. “How many times do I have to tell you that I was not tryin’ to take over your investigation?”
“You ordered Provenza to give you his file and requested that Buzz email you his crime scene photos.”
“That’s just…takin’ an interest.” The knot tightened in the blonde’s gut as she remembered the incident in question, quietly appreciating the fact that Sharon had chosen to leave out a few of the other details. So she had taken the earpiece and attempted to helpfully suggest questions to Sharon during an interview-wasn’t that what give and take in a relationship was all about?
“That’s taking over.” There was an audible sigh this time before Sharon stalked into the living room, hands braced on her hips. “Brenda Leigh, I’ve been waiting naked in your bedroom for the last ten minutes while you have been pouting on the sofa. Are you finished, or shall I take care of things on my own before I go home?”
Brenda narrowed her eyes, casting a quick glance at the deep purple slip that adorned Sharon’s body. “You’re not naked now.” The crease in her forehead lessened as she realized then that she had never seen this particular slip before-not the scalloped lace that trimmed the low cut of the bust or the indecently high hemline. No, Sharon certainly wasn’t naked, but Brenda found herself unable to form a proper complaint.
Sharon arched an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth twitching. Brenda could see that her lover wanted to smile but was a touch too annoyed to allow it. “Observant.”
“Look,” Brenda conceded, staring imploringly at the other woman. “I’m sorry. I just felt a little excluded is all.”
“Honey, you don’t work for the LAPD anymore. You’re not supposed to feel included.”
Sharon was right. Brenda knew she was right, but the comment stung just the same. “Ouch.”
“Your problem, Brenda, is that you want it all. You want your job at the DA’s office and you want my job. But it’s not yours anymore. It’s mine. You can’t have everything.”
Brenda blinked, momentarily jarred by the paradoxical nature of receiving a talking-to from Sharon Raydor while she was clad in lingerie. She nibbled at her lower lip; the shadow of Sharon’s cleavage looked undeniably enticing. “I’ve never been very good at sharing,” she responded lamely.
“I’m not asking you to share. I’m asking you to give me what’s mine.” Sharon drummed her fingertips on the curve of her hip, her patience drawing thin.
The blonde licked her lips, wiping away the remnants of the day’s waxy lipstick, her petulance beginning to ebb. “Maybe I just need a little help rememberin’ what’s yours…”
Sharon titled her head, her lustrous hair curtaining the long line of her bare throat. “Mmm, no,” she hummed, “I don’t think so.”
Brenda’s frown deepened.
“It defeats the purpose if I have to tell you what belongs to me, Brenda. You’re not learning anything if I have to hand it to you. You have to do the work. You’re a smart woman: I think you can figure it out.”
The blonde clenched her thighs tightly together, an undeniable shiver coursing down her spine to pulse between her legs. Under most circumstances, Brenda would have considered the captain’s tone off-putting and downright frustrating. However, Brenda found herself struggling to hang onto her earlier feelings of righteous indignation and jealousy. She’d never been able to think clearly around Sharon, especially not when the woman looked as if she’d been thinking about having sex all day. There was a glint in those green eyes-the brightness of having closed her case mingled with the glimmer of something seductive and superior. It was maddening and intoxicating and appalling. Brenda Leigh couldn’t look away.
Brenda reached out a hand, splaying it over the curve of Sharon’s hip, sucking in a breath as the silky barrier of the slip betrayed the fact that Sharon wore nothing beneath. She caught and held Sharon’s challenging stare. “At least some things are still mine…” She scratched her nails across the silk, feeling the prickle of trimmed curls beneath. Missing her job in Major Crimes seemed trivial when her girlfriend was ready, willing, and eager to end her three day dry spell.
To the blonde’s surprise, Sharon slapped Brenda’s hand away. “You spend so much time focusing on what you can’t have rather than on what you do have,” Sharon said carefully, reaching out to take Brenda’s hands in her own. She pressed gentle kisses onto her knuckles before guiding the younger woman’s arms against the backrest of the sofa. With the calculated pace of a predatory animal, Sharon straddled Brenda’s lap. “Perhaps you’ll want what you have if you feel like you can’t have it anymore.”
Brown eyes widened as Sharon’s hands cupped her own breasts, teasing her nipples to pebbled peaks beneath the silk. Brenda’s throat went dry as she watched those long fingers work, her body humming with want. “I…is this because I left you waitin’ in the bedroom or ‘cause I was mad I couldn’t come into the building?”
Sharon smirked, shifting her hips against Brenda’s when her thumb and forefinger plucked at her nipple. She said nothing and opened her mouth only to emit a soft sigh.
A shrill keen came from Brenda’s parted lips. “Sharon…” She lifted her hand, wanting to touch the horrible woman above her, and Sharon immediately stilled.
“I’d rather not get out my handcuffs, but I will.” Sharon’s tone was icy, but the chill did nothing but stoke the fire of Brenda’s need.
“I thought I was supposed to do the work…”
“Getting to touch me isn’t work; watching what you can’t have is.” Sharon bared her teeth in a grin. “It could be worse, Brenda Leigh,” the brunette continued, sliding her hands across her smooth, pale thighs. “I could have gone home. I could have taken all of this away and left you here with nothing.”
Brenda licked dry lips, watching the dizzying path of Sharon’s fingertips as they caressed her own thighs. She could smell the musky, sticky-sweet scent of Sharon’s arousal now and she groaned. She wanted Sharon, wanted to sink her fingers knuckle deep inside of her. It was then that Brenda Leigh abandoned the remnants of her ill-tempered mood, knowing that Sharon Raydor was cruel enough to get up and leave if and when she chose. “If you left, I probably wouldn’t learn my lesson,” she countered, hypnotized by the way Sharon’s palms hitched the slip higher up her legs. It would take one slight shift of the wrist for Sharon to be completely exposed and it surprised the blonde how much she ached to see her girlfriend on display for her, reminding her exactly who was in charge.
“That’s right.” Sharon’s left hand returned to her breast while the right moved between her thighs, lifting the silk high enough to afford Brenda the view of her fingers pressing against swollen folds. “I shouldn’t have to remind you of these things. You should--oh!”
Brenda moaned with her lover, gripping the cushions of the couch while Sharon’s glisteningly wet fingers circled her clit. The brunette’s hips arched into her own skilled touch and Brenda bit her lip hard. Her stomach clenched in an uncomfortable mixture of desire and jealousy, wanting more than anything to be the one doing the touching. She knew she could make Sharon feel so good, but after her tantrum, she doubted that she deserved the privilege.
“This should be you,” Sharon admitted with a gasp, squeezing her breast and stroking her fingers quickly between her legs. She tilted her head back, exposing her throat as she let out a low, hitched moan of pleasure. “Brenda…”
The younger woman arched her hips and dug her nails into the couch. Her conflicted desire raged within her, forcing her to bite her tongue to keep from begging Sharon to release her verbal bonds and allow her to finish what Sharon had started. She kept quiet, however; despite her selfish need to touch and to taste, she wanted to watch Sharon come by her own hands. She needed to watch.
Sharon’s hips began to sway, the couch springs squeaking ever so slightly. Brenda could feel the other woman’s thighs beginning to tremble where they bracketed her hips and she whimpered. She would never forget this sight, never forget all that pale flesh beneath plum silk, never forget the flutter of Sharon’s eyelids or the way her hair caressed her back. She’d remember the way the spaghetti strap fell from her right shoulder and the way Sharon touched herself with the practiced ease of someone who was no stranger to self-pleasure. They’d been together for months and Brenda had never seen her like this, so resplendently vulnerable and in control.
“Oh Sharon,” she cried, a surge of moisture coating her own untouched sex. She’d give Sharon anything she wanted. She’d never sulk over anything so ridiculous ever-
“Brenda!” the captain cried, shuddering hard as her climax hit. She released her breast and clutched her lover’s shoulder as she came, writhing and riding out each shock of pleasure until she could do nothing but collapse against Brenda’s chest.
Brenda sat rigid with pleasure, her ears ringing with the echoes of Sharon’s moans. She closed her eyes and breathed her in, the heady, soapy scent of her, and curled her arms around her. “I’m sorry,” she said, dragging her hands along the silk. “I’ll never try to take over your investigation again, ever. I’ll give you anythin’ you want.” She kissed the top of Sharon’s head, gripping her waist. “I promise.”
Sharon chuckled, raising herself up to look the younger woman in the eye. “Yes, you will.” She kissed Brenda gently, their lips barely touching before she was on her feet. “And we’ll have to have this talk all over again.”
Brenda bowed her back, sliding her hand along Sharon’s thigh. “D’you think we can continue this conversation…?”
“In the bedroom,” Sharon ordered, stepping away from Brenda’s touch. “You’ve gotten to see what yours-now I want what’s mine.”
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Prompt: Brenda doesn’t do well with the fact that Sharon is the new Brenda.
Fandom: Brenda/Sharon, The Closer
Requested by: imustgofirst
Rating: NC17
Word Count: 1874
Disclaimer: Not mine. Wish they were. Please don't sue.
Author's Note: Set in the Major Crimes ‘verse. This is an incentive fic for i-must-go-first, who is continuing to kick ass on her dissertation AND was just an academic rockstar at a fancy conference this past weekend. I hope you all enjoy the story - let me know what you think. Comments are better than cupcakes. (Bonus points to awesome readers who send along motivational well wishes to i-must-go-first for her academic bad-assery!)
-
Brenda knew that she was being ridiculous. She knew that she was being irrational. What made it worse was the fact that she had an audience-the knowledge that her lover also knew she was being ridiculous only made her slump further into her sofa and wish she could talk to a piece of cake about her woes.
She picked absent-mindedly at a thread on the hem of her skirt, shifting her torso in an attempt to lessen the uncomfortable coil of tension in the pit of her abdomen.
“Brenda, are you still sulking?”
“You made me wait outside! In the car! You wouldn’t even let me wait in my office!” She twisted her mouth and bit the inside of her cheek. “And I’m not sulking,” she added dully.
“My office, Brenda.” There was a pause; though Brenda couldn’t see Sharon, she knew that the older woman had just taken in a deep, fortifying breath, perhaps even pinched the bridge of her nose. “You know perfectly well why I requested you wait in the car, considering what happened last time.”
Brenda rolled her eyes. “How many times do I have to tell you that I was not tryin’ to take over your investigation?”
“You ordered Provenza to give you his file and requested that Buzz email you his crime scene photos.”
“That’s just…takin’ an interest.” The knot tightened in the blonde’s gut as she remembered the incident in question, quietly appreciating the fact that Sharon had chosen to leave out a few of the other details. So she had taken the earpiece and attempted to helpfully suggest questions to Sharon during an interview-wasn’t that what give and take in a relationship was all about?
“That’s taking over.” There was an audible sigh this time before Sharon stalked into the living room, hands braced on her hips. “Brenda Leigh, I’ve been waiting naked in your bedroom for the last ten minutes while you have been pouting on the sofa. Are you finished, or shall I take care of things on my own before I go home?”
Brenda narrowed her eyes, casting a quick glance at the deep purple slip that adorned Sharon’s body. “You’re not naked now.” The crease in her forehead lessened as she realized then that she had never seen this particular slip before-not the scalloped lace that trimmed the low cut of the bust or the indecently high hemline. No, Sharon certainly wasn’t naked, but Brenda found herself unable to form a proper complaint.
Sharon arched an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth twitching. Brenda could see that her lover wanted to smile but was a touch too annoyed to allow it. “Observant.”
“Look,” Brenda conceded, staring imploringly at the other woman. “I’m sorry. I just felt a little excluded is all.”
“Honey, you don’t work for the LAPD anymore. You’re not supposed to feel included.”
Sharon was right. Brenda knew she was right, but the comment stung just the same. “Ouch.”
“Your problem, Brenda, is that you want it all. You want your job at the DA’s office and you want my job. But it’s not yours anymore. It’s mine. You can’t have everything.”
Brenda blinked, momentarily jarred by the paradoxical nature of receiving a talking-to from Sharon Raydor while she was clad in lingerie. She nibbled at her lower lip; the shadow of Sharon’s cleavage looked undeniably enticing. “I’ve never been very good at sharing,” she responded lamely.
“I’m not asking you to share. I’m asking you to give me what’s mine.” Sharon drummed her fingertips on the curve of her hip, her patience drawing thin.
The blonde licked her lips, wiping away the remnants of the day’s waxy lipstick, her petulance beginning to ebb. “Maybe I just need a little help rememberin’ what’s yours…”
Sharon titled her head, her lustrous hair curtaining the long line of her bare throat. “Mmm, no,” she hummed, “I don’t think so.”
Brenda’s frown deepened.
“It defeats the purpose if I have to tell you what belongs to me, Brenda. You’re not learning anything if I have to hand it to you. You have to do the work. You’re a smart woman: I think you can figure it out.”
The blonde clenched her thighs tightly together, an undeniable shiver coursing down her spine to pulse between her legs. Under most circumstances, Brenda would have considered the captain’s tone off-putting and downright frustrating. However, Brenda found herself struggling to hang onto her earlier feelings of righteous indignation and jealousy. She’d never been able to think clearly around Sharon, especially not when the woman looked as if she’d been thinking about having sex all day. There was a glint in those green eyes-the brightness of having closed her case mingled with the glimmer of something seductive and superior. It was maddening and intoxicating and appalling. Brenda Leigh couldn’t look away.
Brenda reached out a hand, splaying it over the curve of Sharon’s hip, sucking in a breath as the silky barrier of the slip betrayed the fact that Sharon wore nothing beneath. She caught and held Sharon’s challenging stare. “At least some things are still mine…” She scratched her nails across the silk, feeling the prickle of trimmed curls beneath. Missing her job in Major Crimes seemed trivial when her girlfriend was ready, willing, and eager to end her three day dry spell.
To the blonde’s surprise, Sharon slapped Brenda’s hand away. “You spend so much time focusing on what you can’t have rather than on what you do have,” Sharon said carefully, reaching out to take Brenda’s hands in her own. She pressed gentle kisses onto her knuckles before guiding the younger woman’s arms against the backrest of the sofa. With the calculated pace of a predatory animal, Sharon straddled Brenda’s lap. “Perhaps you’ll want what you have if you feel like you can’t have it anymore.”
Brown eyes widened as Sharon’s hands cupped her own breasts, teasing her nipples to pebbled peaks beneath the silk. Brenda’s throat went dry as she watched those long fingers work, her body humming with want. “I…is this because I left you waitin’ in the bedroom or ‘cause I was mad I couldn’t come into the building?”
Sharon smirked, shifting her hips against Brenda’s when her thumb and forefinger plucked at her nipple. She said nothing and opened her mouth only to emit a soft sigh.
A shrill keen came from Brenda’s parted lips. “Sharon…” She lifted her hand, wanting to touch the horrible woman above her, and Sharon immediately stilled.
“I’d rather not get out my handcuffs, but I will.” Sharon’s tone was icy, but the chill did nothing but stoke the fire of Brenda’s need.
“I thought I was supposed to do the work…”
“Getting to touch me isn’t work; watching what you can’t have is.” Sharon bared her teeth in a grin. “It could be worse, Brenda Leigh,” the brunette continued, sliding her hands across her smooth, pale thighs. “I could have gone home. I could have taken all of this away and left you here with nothing.”
Brenda licked dry lips, watching the dizzying path of Sharon’s fingertips as they caressed her own thighs. She could smell the musky, sticky-sweet scent of Sharon’s arousal now and she groaned. She wanted Sharon, wanted to sink her fingers knuckle deep inside of her. It was then that Brenda Leigh abandoned the remnants of her ill-tempered mood, knowing that Sharon Raydor was cruel enough to get up and leave if and when she chose. “If you left, I probably wouldn’t learn my lesson,” she countered, hypnotized by the way Sharon’s palms hitched the slip higher up her legs. It would take one slight shift of the wrist for Sharon to be completely exposed and it surprised the blonde how much she ached to see her girlfriend on display for her, reminding her exactly who was in charge.
“That’s right.” Sharon’s left hand returned to her breast while the right moved between her thighs, lifting the silk high enough to afford Brenda the view of her fingers pressing against swollen folds. “I shouldn’t have to remind you of these things. You should--oh!”
Brenda moaned with her lover, gripping the cushions of the couch while Sharon’s glisteningly wet fingers circled her clit. The brunette’s hips arched into her own skilled touch and Brenda bit her lip hard. Her stomach clenched in an uncomfortable mixture of desire and jealousy, wanting more than anything to be the one doing the touching. She knew she could make Sharon feel so good, but after her tantrum, she doubted that she deserved the privilege.
“This should be you,” Sharon admitted with a gasp, squeezing her breast and stroking her fingers quickly between her legs. She tilted her head back, exposing her throat as she let out a low, hitched moan of pleasure. “Brenda…”
The younger woman arched her hips and dug her nails into the couch. Her conflicted desire raged within her, forcing her to bite her tongue to keep from begging Sharon to release her verbal bonds and allow her to finish what Sharon had started. She kept quiet, however; despite her selfish need to touch and to taste, she wanted to watch Sharon come by her own hands. She needed to watch.
Sharon’s hips began to sway, the couch springs squeaking ever so slightly. Brenda could feel the other woman’s thighs beginning to tremble where they bracketed her hips and she whimpered. She would never forget this sight, never forget all that pale flesh beneath plum silk, never forget the flutter of Sharon’s eyelids or the way her hair caressed her back. She’d remember the way the spaghetti strap fell from her right shoulder and the way Sharon touched herself with the practiced ease of someone who was no stranger to self-pleasure. They’d been together for months and Brenda had never seen her like this, so resplendently vulnerable and in control.
“Oh Sharon,” she cried, a surge of moisture coating her own untouched sex. She’d give Sharon anything she wanted. She’d never sulk over anything so ridiculous ever-
“Brenda!” the captain cried, shuddering hard as her climax hit. She released her breast and clutched her lover’s shoulder as she came, writhing and riding out each shock of pleasure until she could do nothing but collapse against Brenda’s chest.
Brenda sat rigid with pleasure, her ears ringing with the echoes of Sharon’s moans. She closed her eyes and breathed her in, the heady, soapy scent of her, and curled her arms around her. “I’m sorry,” she said, dragging her hands along the silk. “I’ll never try to take over your investigation again, ever. I’ll give you anythin’ you want.” She kissed the top of Sharon’s head, gripping her waist. “I promise.”
Sharon chuckled, raising herself up to look the younger woman in the eye. “Yes, you will.” She kissed Brenda gently, their lips barely touching before she was on her feet. “And we’ll have to have this talk all over again.”
Brenda bowed her back, sliding her hand along Sharon’s thigh. “D’you think we can continue this conversation…?”
“In the bedroom,” Sharon ordered, stepping away from Brenda’s touch. “You’ve gotten to see what yours-now I want what’s mine.”
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