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FANDOMS/PAIRING: Gilmore Girls/Law & Order: SVU Lorelai/Alex(Claire)
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
Queen of Sheba
Witness protection program or not, it was confusing to be called Claire in bed when she was actually Alex, and she would have let that be her excuse for having trouble being 'in the moment' if she had been able to tell anyone she was in witness protection, which probably would have defeated the entire point. Remarkably, Lorelai had never figured it out, despite being a naturally inquisitive innkeeper in a small town. Stars Hollow, where Alex had come to roost, and be Claire. There weren't any Columbian drug lords after Claire.
The first time Alex didn't have an orgasm while they were having sex, which was also the first time they had sex, Lorelai wasn't really paying attention. Lorelai was nuzzling her hair and kissing her shoulder. Alex tried to let herself relax. She liked what Lorelai was doing to her, but she couldn't melt into Lorelai's arms. Lorelai, biting into Alex's biceps, noticed.
"You're tense," Lorelai said.
Lorelai sat back on her knees, gloriously naked in the lamplight, and looked down at Alex. "You seduced me."
Alex grinned. "I did."
Alex reached for Lorelai's hand. "I'm not saying no."
"Are you sure?"
Alex pulled Lorelai's fingers to her lips and kissed her knuckles. "I'm saying yes."
Still, when Lorelai began to kiss Alex's stomach, teasing her belly button with her tongue and sliding lower, Alex gripped her hair. "Don't."
"Claire. I'm really good at this."
"It's not you. Just.. don't."
Lorelai crawled back up Alex's body, and then flopped at her side. "The first time is never perfect."
"You mean Harliquen lied?"
"You shoulda read Cosmo."
Coffee in the mornings became gentle touches and soft squeezes. Lorelai liked to draw back Alex's hair and kiss the side of her neck right before she left for work. Alex would linger and read the local newspaper while Lorelai was off supervising check-outs at the Dragonfly Inn. After coffee, she'd do the morning dishes, because she'd learned if she didn't, Lorelai would leave them in the sink for days. Then she'd wander into work around ten in the morning, and read The Wall Street Journal until lunch.
She could have slept in, but she craved Lorelai's touches in the mornings more than nightmares or soft pillows. She could have spent her days at the inn, but Lorelai would ask too many questions, because Lorelai had to know everything. At night, Lorelai would plot creative and stimulating ways for them to have sex. Alex was learning to be flexible.
"Maybe this will help," Lorelai had said the night before, leaning against the doorway in a sultry pose, a hot pink dildo, at least nine inches long, protruding from her waist.
Alex had laughed so hard she fell off the bed. She learned that getting whacked in the head with a large pink dildo hurt.
When too many men called Alex frigid, she started dating women. Cops, waitresses, tourists in New York for the weekend, anyone who wouldn't hitch themselves to Alex's rising career. She figured she'd find the right man when she needed to, and be all the better for her experience.
"Do you know what 'butch cop' means? This is killing my self-esteem," Olivia said playfully, making tea for both of them in the middle of the night.
Alex leaned against the counter. "I like cuddling."
"I do. It's something I never got at home. Not from my mother. So it's like... something rare, and therefore exquisite. Unlike caviar or truffles, which I had every day. I never got much affection from men. But then, I never found the right kind of man."
Olivia passed Alex a mug of tea, with the bag still soaked and the string hanging over the side. Chamomile, because neither of them should be awake at two in the morning with court the next day.
Olivia said, "Alex Cabot, baring her soul."
"Well, I'm pretty sure this won't end up in the New York Times."
"Besides, it's all over-rated. Sex is great. Sex with you is great. Why does it have to be about that one crescendoing moment? I mean really, how phallic."
"Very post-feminist of you."
"Oh, the big butch cop can say 'post-feminist.'"
Olivia wrapped one arm around Alex's shoulders, and murmured in her ear. "My mother was a professor, remember? Do you want me to read to you from The Feminist Mystique?"
"In bed? Don't you have any de Sade?"
"I have handcuffs."
In bed again, Olivia sat against the headboard, with Alex between her legs, leaning back against her. Alex stared out the window, amazed at how quiet New York could be at night, despite legend. Olivia's hands were on her stomach. She turned one over, tracing long fingers. A car passed on the street.
She knew she was wet; she could feel it beneath her. She wondered if it was the tea or Olivia's body or the smell of sex that lingered in the sheets, but she waited for Olivia to fall asleep, awkwardly snoring against the the headboard, before touching herself. The titillation of the open window helped. She could see out, but on one could see in, and no one in the outside world would know that she was watching them and masturbating.
She was warm and slippery and she wiped her fingers on Olivia's thigh and fell asleep against Olivia's shoulder.
They were making foam dinosaurs on a Saturday night, because they were both getting older, and because there was nothing to do in Stars Hollow but make foam dinosaurs or go bowling. Alex had her own ball. Lorelai had got it for her 32nd birthday, her fake birthday, and had had it engraved, just below the custom finger-holes. Claire. The ball had swirls of hot pink and electric purple and fit no one's hand but hers. If she had to relocate, she'd leave it behind, like a bread-crumb, a relic of the life she was leading. Alexandra Cabot was here.
Her life had become the Gay and Lesbian Bowling League in the summer, fifty-three people strong, even though only she and Lorelai and the nice young couple who ran the barbershop were even rumored to be gay. Lorelai thought it would be a funny name. Emily Gilmore had had a heart attack. As Rory had said, painting a rainbow flag onto Paris's cheek for team solidarity, as they were the Fruity Tooties, "It's all good."
Bowling, and foam dinosaurs. Lorelai claimed they had arrived mysteriously in the mail, but Alex had her doubts.
Lorelai picked up a small green triceratops and waved it at Alex. "Tri-ey has a question, Claire." She spoke in a pinched, cartoon voice.
Alex raised an eyebrow.
"But he will only consult with your dinosaur."
Alex fished a yellow brachiosaurus out of the pot. She held it up for Lorelai's inspection.
"Do a voice," Lorelai said in a normal voice.
Alex narrowed her eyes.
"Do a voice," the triceratops squeaked.
Alex closed her eyes. Her brachiosaurus said, "Do you have a question?"
"You sound like Pee Wee Herman."
"That's it. You're sleeping on the couch tonight," Alex said.
"It's my house."
"That's why it's punishment."
"My question," the triceratops announced, "Is, 'Do you masturbate?'"
Alex dropped her brachiosaurus. "Lorelai!"
"Yes. Sometimes. Happy?"
Lorelai asked, "Do you come?"
Lorelai squeezed water out of her triceratops. "Don't make me dictionary dot com your ass."
"Do I come when I masturbate?"
Lorelai frowned. "You said that so normally."
"Like you've said it before."
Alex walked her brachiosaurus across the table, and said, "Maybe I'm a sex crimes lawyer who asks that question every day."
"Maybe I'm the queen of Sheba."
"What's Sheba, anyway? I mean, does anyone really know?"
"Do you come?"
Alex looked around the kitchen. "Someone might hear!"
"Well, they will if I start screaming. You wouldn't want that, would you?"
"Oh, the things I want right now."
Lorelai set down her dinosaur and leaned against the kitchen island.
"Sometimes. Yes. Sometimes it doesn't even take long. It's just sudden and aching and over. I think it's an orgasm. I'm not really sure. Aren't they supposed to be more momentous? But usually, I give up, or I fall asleep, or I start thinking of a cas--of what I saw on Everwood, and get distracted. I mean, it's a concentration thing."
"It's not something you can determine into existence."
"Well, exactly. Hence my issue."
"Control freak much?"
"Oh, yes, thank you. Demean my issue. Which isn't really an issue, because you know? I don't care." Alex chucked her brachiosaurus at Lorelai, and stormed out of the kitchen.
Lorelai crept upstairs with peppermint tea and found Alex sprawled in the bedroom. She pressed a pterodactyl to Alex's forehead. "I didn't mean to demean your issue, Claire."
Alex crunched up her face. She felt hurt, when she wanted to feel angry. She felt inferior, which she never liked, and Lorelai wasn't letting her feel those things when pressing a damp, spongy dinosaur to her face. So she just scowled and pretended to feel hostile.
"I was just thinking, maybe you could masturbate in front of me, and it would be fun."
"I've tried that," Alex said, rolling her eyes at the ceiling in her effort to see the pterodactyl. "It doesn't work. I feel too... watched."
Lorelei nodded. "I don't want to sleep on the couch."
"Yeah, that would suck."
Lorelai stretched out on the bed beside her.
Alex breathed heavily, hoping to sound huffy. The pterodactyl was a good locus point for her anger. She focused on it, trying to melt it with heat rays from her forehead.
"Why do you sit in the dark?"
Alex lost her focus on her heat rays. "What?"
"Sometimes when I come home late, I find you up here, staring out the window."
"Okay... That's cool..."
"I can explain," Alex said. "Well, I can't explain. I can give more detail. I'm afraid someone will see me."
"See you what?"
"It's not me. It's them. I'm afraid they'll see me... and shoot me. Or you. Or burn the house down with me inside. So I force myself to sit in the dark. And remember that when the lights are out, they can't see me, but I can see them. I have the power."
Lorelai propped herself on her side, and placed her hand on Alex's arm. "Who wants to shoot you?"
"No one. It's a phobia. pho-bi-a. Dictionary dot com it."
Lorelai pinched her.
Alex rolled over, toward Lorelai, chest-butting her nearly off the bed.
Lorelai sprawled onto her back, and gripped the side of the bed. Alex crouched over her, and bit into her ear.
"So, when you masturbate, do you think of me?"
"Would you like to know my fantasies?"
Lorelai wrapped her arms around Alex's neck. "Yes."
"Do you know that thinking of you gets me hot? Even when you're not here? When you're the inn, doing paperwork, and I'm here all alone, looking out the window?"
Alex slid her hand under the waistband of Lorelai's pants. She sought the heat, and after weeks of practice, stroked her fingers precisely along the spot that made Lorelai buck against her. "I think of this," Alex said, her lips moving against Lorelai's ear.
Lorelai was lying still on the bed, but her hips and belly were quivering, and her hands on Alex were like a vise.
"I think of how you feel like this. You."
Alex felt the spasms against her fingers. Lorelai shook under her, and gasped, and then gripped Alex's head and kissed her, with her hips stilling under Alex's hand. Alex marveled at how easy Lorelai came in the right moment, and felt smug at the way Lorealai's tongue pushed into her mouth. Maybe, she reasoned, Lorelai wanted to see it, too. Maybe it was more than ego. When Lorelai had an orgasm, it was Alex that felt beautiful. Poor Lorelai, she thought. If an orgasm was something she could wrap up in a bow, like in a Saturn commercial, she would give it to Lorelai a thousand times over.
Lorelai nipped Alex's chin, and then sprawled with a contented sigh.
Alex stretched out, still on top, and said, "Have you ever read The Feminist Mystique?"
Lorelai opened one eye and peered at her. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"
"So that's a no?"
Lorelai closed her eye. "I read Our Bodies, Ourselves. Man there was a lot of sex in that book."
Lorelai smiled, and tugged Alex closer. "Kumbaya."
Alex, wearing only a bathrobe, sat curled in a chair in front of the bedroom window. It had been raining since twilight, and the weatherman had told her it would be raining in the morning. She watched the water run down the window. The street-lamp outside was haloed with haze.
Lorelai was at Luke's for poker, and wouldn't be home until late, and it was unfair. Alex knew by the calendar, and by the way she had screamed at Lorelai for undercooking her toast that morning, and then cried into her orange juice, that her period, like the rain, would be there in the morning. She was horny, and restless, and hated that Lorelai was out.
She pictured Lorelai sitting at the table, maybe with a green visor, but no cigar, playing with her chips. The vision of Lorelai's eyes, knowing smirk, and coal-black hair made Alex's lips part. She inhaled, and then licked her lips, wetting them against the dry air. She'd give anything to see how sexy Lorelai could be at a poker game.
"You can't come," Lorelai had told her three weeks ago, when the game first parted them on a Wednesday night.
"Why not? I know how to play poker."
"Luke doesn't like you."
"He does too. He always makes a devil face in my pancakes. With horns and everything."
"He likes you, but he doesn't poker-like you. Sorry, babe."
Alex wondered how many times Lorelai had played strip poker. Lorelai certainly liked taking off her clothes. Alex pictured her now, pulling her shirt over her head, tossing it on the floor and giving a sexy little wink. Alex thought of the shape of her breasts, how they would be lifted by a lace bra. Lorelai would fold her arms underneath them, compressing them so that Alex could see how soft they were, and say, "Your turn."
She would be good at poker, making Lorelai lose just to see her pout, and to see another inch of skin. Her hand crept between her legs, pushing aside the folds of fabric. A throb had started, low and thudding, like she was sitting on a speaker playing bass. She touched herself, and squirmed.
Lorelai would throw the bra in her face, so that she couldn't see Lorelai's breasts, only catch the faint scent of sweat on the lace, before tearing the bra off her head and scowling with annoyance. Lorelai's folded arms would be over her breasts, and to free them, Alex would have to get up and go to her, pin her against the wall, and pull her arms or tickle her, just for a flash of nipple. This scenario had played out in the kitchen Monday morning, and Lorelai had finally allowed Alex to cup her breasts, feel their weight in each hand, bend her head and lick the tips.
Alex cupped her breast through the robe, and found her nipple already hard. She squeezed it, and felt an answering twinge in her nipple and between her legs. Lorelai would like this, how she was touching herself. Lorelai would ask too many questions. "What are you thinking about? What are you doing?"
Lorelai would be good at phone sex, Alex realized. She pictured herself in her own apartment, calling Stars Hollow long distance. The sudden nostalgia that made her fingers press harder into her flesh.
Alex reached over to the bed and picked up the afghan that Lorelai kept for cold nights. Lorelai's scent clung to the wool. Alex wrapped the afghan around her shoulders and inhaled. Her hand returned between her legs. She found her lips swollen, and her hips shifted on the chair, accommodating. She was exposed to the window, but there was no one on the street. The U.S. Marshall's office didn't have the budget for night-vision technology, and even if they did, she'd give them a show. "I didn't do anything wrong," she'd tell them. "I deserve to be happy."
Her breath echoed in the room. She was choking on the air, gasping whenever her fingers pressed against the spot at the top of her vulva. She had seen her clitoris in health class, in the 80s, when private schools didn't have to follow state and federal abstinence guidelines. The wetness on her thighs coated her fingers, made it easier for her to stroke faster. Lorelai's scent surrounding her meant she didn't have to picture Lorelai stripping anymore, and she concentrated on the friction between her legs. The ache when she tweaked her nipple made her whole body shudder in response.
The wind sent a splash of water against the window. She remembered it was there and looked up, rubbing furiously.
Lorelai was standing below the window, under an umbrella, looking up.
Alex let out a hoarse moan. She jerked against her fingers, nearly tumbling off the chair. She gripped the arm with her free hand, and spasmed. Three short seconds, and it was over. Her fingers ached from applying so much pressure, and her clitoris twinged with little shocks. She exhaled, and then yawned. Her vulva felt sore and tender under her fingers, and she withdrew them. Lorelai might lick them if Alex offered them, by way of saying hello. Remembering Lorelai, she peered out the window.
Lorelai still stood there.
Alex went to the window and yanked it up. "It's raining," she shouted, against the rain and cool air rushing against her face, to Lorelai.
Lorelai shook her head. "Come outside!"
"I'm not decent!"
Alex regretted that she didn't get a chance to see the expression on Lorelai's face, because Lorelai was already under the eaves, running for the door.
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