ficpost: "Game of Nothing" Katherine Heigl/Kate Walsh
Title: "Game of Nothing"
Fandom: Grey's Anatomy RPF
Pairing: Kate Walsh/Katherine Heigl
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Strap-on use
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and fantasy that bears no resemblance to the actual lives of any celebrities. Significant others are pastede off through the power of ~handwavy~.
Notes: A slightly abridged version posted at Porn Battle 6 here. Prompts used were "strap-on" and "limo"
Summary: Tonight it's Walsh's turn to be Kate and Heigl's turn to get laid.
Wordcount: 1069
Game of Nothing
"So let me lay this out for you."
"Okay?"
"There are no strings."
"Nope."
"There are no knots to be tied, there are no buttons or bows, there is nothing. Between us."
"Except my dick."
"Right, Kate. You can wear your dick. You can tie your dick to your waist, you can glue your dick to your clit, I don't care what happens between you and your dick so long as your dick is in me."
Tonight, red-headed Katie gets to be Kate and she gets to be Katie. Kate Walsh is the mature one, toppy and gorgeous, huge penis bulging against sleek black dress, and Katie is the girly one, wearing an amazingly plastic 'do made entirely of hairspray and a frilly Christian Lacroix that will take Kate fully ten minutes to remove from Katie's body. This isn't the only way to play but God, it's the most fun. Katie gets to tease. She gets to be the bitch. She gets to go, "Hey, Kate, fetch me a refill?" and wink broadly and turn her attentions back to Patrick Dempsey and pretend she's not swooning over Kate's cleavage and Kate's dick, act like she's not longing to get her hands into that décolletage.
"Here. More vodka for my girl." Kate grins. Kisses her fingertip, presses it to her hip. Just daring Katie to look at her cock. But Katie's not falling, not that quickly.
"Great." She downs the drink in one gigantic swallow so greedy it's not even sexy. "Now we dance."
Kate can lead. Katie never can, because she's almost always staggering drunk by the time she tries to be butch and can't do anything but skanky-drunk-dirty-dancing, which is her personal favorite kind, but Kate can actually lead, one hand on her hip and one on her shoulder, moving her through various positions and spins and steps that look almost professional. Or at least coordinated. And she has, more impressively, self-control. If Katie had a dick (when Katie has a dick, when she's Katherine the Great and Kate is Katie, schleppy servant to the rich and radical) she'd be unable to stop using it, to keep her package from protruding into Katie Walsh's personal space, invading and hard, before they a retreated respectable distance from the party. But Kate knows subtle. Kate never lets Katie forget that she's got a hard-on for her, but it never touches her. Kate's a gentleman. She twirls Katie at arm's length and smiles at her eyes, not her boobs. Her movements are smooth, sophisticated, not the jerky gyrations of someone who can't wait to get laid.
Katie is getting laid. She gets laid often, but every time she knows it she feels a tingle that's got nothing to do with alcohol. Kate Walsh's dick is going to be in her pussy.
Kate pulls her away from the remnants of the party way past the time that Katie's had too much to drink, into a limo, against plush velvet seats and into the oblivion of fucking.
"Ready?" Not even a question, Kate, not even a question. Katie, who paid thousand of dollars for this dress, would tear it to shreds to get access to Kate's tongue faster. But Kate's smooth. Kate unzips herself first, lets Katie get a glimpse of the cock hiding under her panties, then leans over and gives Katie her tongue.
Like, all her tongue. Like, it should not be possible to be tongued this deeply. Like, this is not anatomically correct, like she is going to swallow Kate Walsh's tongue and get totally sued, like, she is writhing under Kate's knee and does Kate know that she's practically kneeling in Katie's crotch.
Of course she knows. When she has a dick, Kate's always aware, always watching. The dick has its own eye and heightens all Kate's senses. Kate smells different, sounds different, breathes from her throat and sweats like a man and drinks like a lady and fucks like a whore and smiles like a movie star when she has a dick. She kisses Katie and starts pumping her knee, gently, just enough so that Katie struggles against layers of lace to get real touch, honest sensation, something other than silk and glitter. Skin. Skin and silicone, somewhere, that she can sense before she feels it, the elephant in the room, the cock in the girl-on-girl porno.
Kate kisses till Katie's lips swell, till her throat wants to bleed, till she needs release from her dress and her bra and her thong, from heat, from plush velvet and from decadence. She can feel a scream in the back of her throat, and then, the dick is in her hand, and she's pulling, rubbing, miming a handjob, looking Kate straight in the eye. "Fuck me."
"Oh yeah?" And Kate quirks her head and raises her eyebrow and holds all the cards and the end of Katie's leash and knows every goddamn thing. "Make me."
"I am the fucking hottest girl you've ever been with fuck me the fuck now or I will scream."
"Please do."
So Katie screams with the satisfaction of having her mouth free and her hands touching something real, silicone rubber but real as flesh, tender, taut, of rubbing till Kate's aroused, really, not just the figment that's the rubber cock but real, shaky breath, stuttered "make me;" Kate will fuck her. Kate will want to. Kate already wants to, is thrusting her dick into Katie's palm like it's pussy, and Katie just has to find the right pitch, the key that will unlock Kate and make her mean it. Make this into something more than a game for the duration of penetration. At least while Kate's fucking and fingering her.
When the dresses are discarded and the make-up has all smeared into sweat, when the delicate, tasteful perfume Kate put on this evening has been entirely overpowered by the stench of sex, when they're both bare, when Kate's cock is rubbing against Katie's clit and Katie is Katherine and Kate is Katie and everything is dismantled except the rubbing biting screaming thrusting movement that is sex, then there are no strings, and then Katie is really free.
Fandom: Grey's Anatomy RPF
Pairing: Kate Walsh/Katherine Heigl
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Strap-on use
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and fantasy that bears no resemblance to the actual lives of any celebrities. Significant others are pastede off through the power of ~handwavy~.
Notes: A slightly abridged version posted at Porn Battle 6 here. Prompts used were "strap-on" and "limo"
Summary: Tonight it's Walsh's turn to be Kate and Heigl's turn to get laid.
Wordcount: 1069
Game of Nothing
"So let me lay this out for you."
"Okay?"
"There are no strings."
"Nope."
"There are no knots to be tied, there are no buttons or bows, there is nothing. Between us."
"Except my dick."
"Right, Kate. You can wear your dick. You can tie your dick to your waist, you can glue your dick to your clit, I don't care what happens between you and your dick so long as your dick is in me."
Tonight, red-headed Katie gets to be Kate and she gets to be Katie. Kate Walsh is the mature one, toppy and gorgeous, huge penis bulging against sleek black dress, and Katie is the girly one, wearing an amazingly plastic 'do made entirely of hairspray and a frilly Christian Lacroix that will take Kate fully ten minutes to remove from Katie's body. This isn't the only way to play but God, it's the most fun. Katie gets to tease. She gets to be the bitch. She gets to go, "Hey, Kate, fetch me a refill?" and wink broadly and turn her attentions back to Patrick Dempsey and pretend she's not swooning over Kate's cleavage and Kate's dick, act like she's not longing to get her hands into that décolletage.
"Here. More vodka for my girl." Kate grins. Kisses her fingertip, presses it to her hip. Just daring Katie to look at her cock. But Katie's not falling, not that quickly.
"Great." She downs the drink in one gigantic swallow so greedy it's not even sexy. "Now we dance."
Kate can lead. Katie never can, because she's almost always staggering drunk by the time she tries to be butch and can't do anything but skanky-drunk-dirty-dancing, which is her personal favorite kind, but Kate can actually lead, one hand on her hip and one on her shoulder, moving her through various positions and spins and steps that look almost professional. Or at least coordinated. And she has, more impressively, self-control. If Katie had a dick (when Katie has a dick, when she's Katherine the Great and Kate is Katie, schleppy servant to the rich and radical) she'd be unable to stop using it, to keep her package from protruding into Katie Walsh's personal space, invading and hard, before they a retreated respectable distance from the party. But Kate knows subtle. Kate never lets Katie forget that she's got a hard-on for her, but it never touches her. Kate's a gentleman. She twirls Katie at arm's length and smiles at her eyes, not her boobs. Her movements are smooth, sophisticated, not the jerky gyrations of someone who can't wait to get laid.
Katie is getting laid. She gets laid often, but every time she knows it she feels a tingle that's got nothing to do with alcohol. Kate Walsh's dick is going to be in her pussy.
Kate pulls her away from the remnants of the party way past the time that Katie's had too much to drink, into a limo, against plush velvet seats and into the oblivion of fucking.
"Ready?" Not even a question, Kate, not even a question. Katie, who paid thousand of dollars for this dress, would tear it to shreds to get access to Kate's tongue faster. But Kate's smooth. Kate unzips herself first, lets Katie get a glimpse of the cock hiding under her panties, then leans over and gives Katie her tongue.
Like, all her tongue. Like, it should not be possible to be tongued this deeply. Like, this is not anatomically correct, like she is going to swallow Kate Walsh's tongue and get totally sued, like, she is writhing under Kate's knee and does Kate know that she's practically kneeling in Katie's crotch.
Of course she knows. When she has a dick, Kate's always aware, always watching. The dick has its own eye and heightens all Kate's senses. Kate smells different, sounds different, breathes from her throat and sweats like a man and drinks like a lady and fucks like a whore and smiles like a movie star when she has a dick. She kisses Katie and starts pumping her knee, gently, just enough so that Katie struggles against layers of lace to get real touch, honest sensation, something other than silk and glitter. Skin. Skin and silicone, somewhere, that she can sense before she feels it, the elephant in the room, the cock in the girl-on-girl porno.
Kate kisses till Katie's lips swell, till her throat wants to bleed, till she needs release from her dress and her bra and her thong, from heat, from plush velvet and from decadence. She can feel a scream in the back of her throat, and then, the dick is in her hand, and she's pulling, rubbing, miming a handjob, looking Kate straight in the eye. "Fuck me."
"Oh yeah?" And Kate quirks her head and raises her eyebrow and holds all the cards and the end of Katie's leash and knows every goddamn thing. "Make me."
"I am the fucking hottest girl you've ever been with fuck me the fuck now or I will scream."
"Please do."
So Katie screams with the satisfaction of having her mouth free and her hands touching something real, silicone rubber but real as flesh, tender, taut, of rubbing till Kate's aroused, really, not just the figment that's the rubber cock but real, shaky breath, stuttered "make me;" Kate will fuck her. Kate will want to. Kate already wants to, is thrusting her dick into Katie's palm like it's pussy, and Katie just has to find the right pitch, the key that will unlock Kate and make her mean it. Make this into something more than a game for the duration of penetration. At least while Kate's fucking and fingering her.
When the dresses are discarded and the make-up has all smeared into sweat, when the delicate, tasteful perfume Kate put on this evening has been entirely overpowered by the stench of sex, when they're both bare, when Kate's cock is rubbing against Katie's clit and Katie is Katherine and Kate is Katie and everything is dismantled except the rubbing biting screaming thrusting movement that is sex, then there are no strings, and then Katie is really free.