Dirty Laundry Round 1: Zakiyah The elevator creaked and groaned as it rose slowly towards the Treehouse - but Marguerite’s grumblings still drowned it out with ease. "I can’t believe you let Challenger’s stupid windup wringer slip out of its brake!" The heiress futilely mopped at her clothes, trying to rid herself of some of the muddy water coating her from her shoulders down to the tops of her boots. "I’m sorry, Marguerite," Roxton apologized once again, doing his best to try and hide the grin that kept threatening to escape him. On the one hand, he really was sorry. On the other hand, she looked so funny…and adorable…and downright sexy, with the water soaking her old threadbare blouse and trousers. He hastily cleared his throat and tried to distract himself from what the wet blouse so clearly revealed. "I don’t know how it could have happened. I was just trying to release the tension out of the wringer-coil, since we were done with the laundry." Marguerite gave Roxton a dark look. "Hmph! We were," she pointed out acidly. "At least you didn’t get any of the hanging laundry dirty, or you’d be a lot more than sorry. Although how you managed to drench me and not yourself…!" She eyed him suspiciously for a moment before returning to her plight. "What am I supposed to wear? All my other clothes are on the clothesline, soaking wet! They won’t be dry for hours!" "Well, there’s the obvious solution," Roxton offered with a leer. Marguerite swatted him with her wet, muddy handkerchief, causing him to jump back. "Oh! I knew you caused this deliberately! Just because the others are away, don’t think you’re getting away with anything!" Her eyes glittered with genuine anger. Roxton’s face fell. "But Marguerite, really, I didn’t do it on purpose!" The elevator rumbled to a halt. He grabbed her arm before she could step off. "Marguerite…please. It was an accident, and I am sorry." Casting around for some way to make it up to her, his eyes fell upon the half-full coffee pot from the morning, now cool…and Challenger’s electric icebox. "How about you take a quick shower to clean up, and I’ll make you some iced coffee, and then we can sit and relax until the laundry is dry." The cool drink was a special treat; they really didn’t have extra ice for indulgences like that very often. Marguerite’s eyes immediately softened. "Well…I suppose I can find something to wear," she relented. "I have no doubts," Roxton assured her with a grin. "All right then. Just be sure to have that coffee ready when I’m done with my shower," she commanded before stalking off to her room with a haughty air. Roxton watched her go, admiring the sway of his lover’s hips even as he berated himself. Great job, old boy. Get Marguerite and the Treehouse to yourself for a day…and first insist on doing chores in the morning when she’s not at her best, and then wind up making her madder than a wet cat with the wringer accident. At this rate I’ll be lucky if she’s even talking to me by the time the others return tomorrow. It wasn’t at all what he’d had in mind. Sighing plaintively, he set to work in the kitchen, hoping her ill temper didn’t last too long. Marguerite didn’t get as angry as often anymore as she had in the early days here on the Plateau, but when she did get angry, watch out! ***** In her room, Marguerite searched for something to wear. She hadn’t been joking when she’d complained to Roxton that all her other clothes were currently drying on the clothesline. Growling in exasperation, she went through her room, hoping she’d missed an item or two, but even her worn purple robe was hanging out to dry. In desperation, she threw open her old trunk and started rummaging in it, hoping against hope that she’d somehow forgotten about some old skirt or dress or… Her hand closed around a small, neatly wrapped bundle. Curious, she pulled it out. Her eyes widened as she realized what it was. A flood of memories raced through her, causing her eyes to sparkle and her lips to curve upwards in a very wicked smile. "Well, it wasn’t quite what I had in mind," she murmured to herself, "but then again, what the hell." Smirking, she placed the bundle inside her bath towel and left for the shower room. She just hoped the steam from the shower would take care of any wrinkles. ***** That was quick, Roxton thought to himself as he heard the shower shut off. Left to her own devices, Marguerite usually stayed in the shower until there was no warm water left. She must really want that iced coffee. Hurrying back into the kitchen area, he grabbed the mostly-filled glass of coffee and turned to the icebox - too quickly. He swore as the dark liquid sloshed up, splashing his shirt. At least I hadn’t iced it yet, he thought ruefully, eyeing the dark stains. Moving more carefully, he added ice to the coffee still in the glass, then topped it off with the last of the coffee from the pot. As a final touch, he added a blossom to the glass before carrying it all to the kitchen table. There. Looks fine, and it should be just the right temperature by the time she emerges. Now what to do about me? Hesitating for a moment, he finally shrugged and stripped off his soiled shirt. I think I still have an undershirt in my room, and I don’t want to risk getting any coffee-stains on whatever Marguerite found to wear! He turned to go to his room, only to be stopped dead in his tracks by a low, sultry voice. "My, my," Marguerite’s voice purred. "This does seem familiar." "I just spilled some, uh, coffee…" Roxton turned to face her as he spoke, and promptly lost track of what he was saying as he took in her appearance. The hem of her rose-colored silk skirt swirled gently around her knees as she glided towards him; a skimpy vest in the same fabric faithfully outlined her breasts. Her midriff was bare from just beneath her breasts to so low on her hips he practically expected to see a peek of dark curls greeting his eager gaze. Her dark hair hung wild and free, only slightly damp from the shower steam, and curling even more exuberantly than usual. The look in her grey eyes was unmistakable. "I seem to remember you were shirtless the last time I wore this ensemble, too," Marguerite continued as she came to a halt in front of him. She tugged at the shirt held loosely in his hand, dropping it to the floor. She then reached out a hand and gently traced a finger down his chest, reveling in her lover’s sudden gasp. Smiling, she lightly caressed his groin, her fingers tracing the bulge she found there. "The trousers were a little flimsier…but what’s inside seems to be the same." She leaned into him, pressing her body fully against his, and reached up to twine her hands behind his neck. "Shall I investigate, just to be sure?" she whispered into his ear. Roxton couldn’t have answered in words if his life had depended on it. He’d had fantasies about Marguerite in that outfit ever since the one and only time he’d seen her wearing it, during the struggle to overthrow Cantus. She’d had to simulate making love to him in that outfit to distract a pair of nosy lizard guards; he’d almost made love to her for real after they’d left, despite their dangerous circumstances. Only the interruption of the crazed gladiator had stopped them from acting on their mutual desires. He’d even asked her to bring the outfit home with her…but until this moment, he’d never known she’d honored his bold request. As her body rubbed against his, her hips grinding suggestively against his own, he answered her the only way he could. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her passionately, feeling her mouth open beneath his and her tongue emerge to twine with his own. Moaning deep in his throat, he caressed her back, then let his hands wander to her silk-covered nipples and down to beneath the waistband of her skirt. Another groan escaped him as he realized she wasn’t wearing anything beneath it, and he brought his hands back up to her breasts. Marguerite broke the kiss and inhaled sharply as his fingers unerringly teased her nipples to life through the silk of her vest. Running her hands down his body, she brought them to the front of his trousers. Her nimble fingers made short work of the fastenings, and she eagerly pushed both pants and underwear out of her way until she could hold his engorged flesh between her palms. She smiled and licked her lips, feeling him leap and quiver within her grasp. Releasing him from her hold, she took his hands instead and gently tugged him down to the floor, not a simple task with his boots still on and his pants bunched around his knees. She knelt beside him and pushed on his shoulders until he was lying flat on his back, staring at her with eyes that were almost black with desire. Blowing him a kiss, she straddled his waist in one swift, sure movement, the rose silk of her skirts cascading down around them both. This was the fantasy! It was just as he remembered, as his mind had replayed to him night after night: Marguerite, disheveled and beautiful in her exotic costume, moving wildly above him, her face painted with sensual pleasure. Stunned, his eyes met hers as she hovered above him. One look into those grey depths and he understood that she knew; that she remembered too, and that she was deliberately bringing fantasy to life - and that the fantasy was all the foreplay either of them needed or wanted. He murmured her name lovingly, like a prayer, as he felt her reach down and position him before lowering herself onto him. Marguerite couldn’t contain a low cry of satisfaction as she came to rest against him, his length fully inside her. She flexed her hips and arched her back, glorying in the sensation and in the blatant look of love and lust that suffused Roxton’s face. She started moving at a slow, sensual pace, rotating her hips slightly with each rise and fall, needing to feel him everywhere within her. She gasped as his hands returned to her breasts, this time to partially unhook her vest, dip inside, and lift her nipples free of the fabric. Raising himself up on one elbow, he tugged her forward with his free hand and took one nipple into his mouth, flicking the tip with his tongue. She bucked convulsively as the sensation sent a shock of pleasure surging through her. Panting, she increased the pace, feeling the tension building within her. Roxton called Marguerite’s name again as the quickened movements swiftly brought him near the edge. Placing both hands on her hips, he moved in synchronicity with her, lifting to meet her, rubbing against her, pulling away, and lifting to meet her again, striving to bring her with him. As he felt the first few tremors pass through him, Marguerite suddenly convulsed above him, wildly calling out his name as her body lost control. The feel of her contractions was more than enough to send him over, and he too shouted her name as his body spasmed in release. Slowly, awareness returned to the two lovers. Marguerite lay sprawled over Roxton’s chest, still straddling him, still feeling him sheathed within her. Sighing, she trailed kisses up his chest until she reached his cheek, reveling in the salty taste of his sweat and the still-frantic beating of his heart against hers. She lovingly ran one finger down the side of his jaw before lifting herself enough to look into his eyes. "I found something to wear," she said coyly, her voice still husky with passion. Roxton laughed, a rich, loving sound, and his eyes danced with mirth. "So you did. Thank God. I approve," he added teasingly. "I noticed," Marguerite retorted, unable to restrain her smile. She leaned over and kissed him, then pushed herself upright and off of him. "I suppose we’d better check on the laundry," she said with a sigh. "At the very least, we should probably get off the floor - !" Her sentence ended in a startled squeak as Roxton bucked and twisted beneath her, bringing her carefully down to the floor and half-pinning her. His eyes glinted at her. "Oh no, my lady," he rumbled. "You just fulfilled one of my most treasured fantasies - wonderfully, spectacularly, and completely unexpectedly." He briefly nibbled her neck before continuing, causing her breathing to quicken as he gently explored the sensitive flesh with his tongue and teeth. "I feel I must try to repay you, at least in part." He paused once again to lavish kisses on the other side of her neck. "Perhaps by returning the favor…?" Continued in Round 2 Return to Birthday Fics |