Post by greenie on Aug 9, 2009 0:13:45 GMT 10
Title: Canoodling on Duty
Rating: R. (I'm not entirely sure if this is right or not, but it's not any more explicit than what Tammy's written in the books.)
Length: 1641 words
Category: Tortall
Summary: Clary and Mattes get themselves out of a tricky situation by pretending to be canoodling while on duty.
Peculiar Pairing: Goodwin/Tunstall
“Finally, they’re finished,” murmured Mattes. “I’m half starved.”
“You think I don’t know that?” retorted Clary. “I’ve been listening to your belly rumbling for the last hour.”
He opened his mouth to reply when her hand clamped down on his arm. “They’re coming this way,” she hissed.
His brown eyes were looking straight down at her. “Pepperell said they wouldn’t.”
“Well they are, pox rot them,” she snapped. “They’re coming from both sides and we’re trapped in the middle. If we get out of this alive, I’ll make his sarden tongue into a belt-pouch, the fen-sucked scut.”
“Focus on getting out alive first,” he told her. He dragged her by the wrist into a small side alley. “Maybe they won’t spot us if we’re in the shadows.”
“Are you cracknobbed? We’re even more trapped now! We can’t fight our way out from here, you looby, they’ll block us in and kill us!”
“We were trapped anyway,” he pointed out. “It’s better than staying out there, they were certain to find us.”
“And what reason have we got to give for standing in the shadows in this stinking alley?”
“I’m thinking.”
“Think a bit sarden faster, they’re almost here!” she hissed.
“Beat me up later,” he told her. She didn’t even have time to wonder why before he picked her up, pressed her up against the wall, and kissed her. A string of curses tumbled out of her mouth under her breath when they parted for air. “Well, I didn’t see you coming up with anything better,” he pointed out.
“Are you really that desperate for a woman?” She couldn’t hear his usual deep rumble of a laugh, but she could feel it. “Cracknobbed barbarian,” she muttered.
“We’ve got company,” he whispered, hearing movement at a distance behind him, and kissed her again. Clary closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around his neck, listening hard for signs of movement nearby. At least Mattes could kiss a mot well, she thought. Not that Tom couldn’t, they were just different. She could definitely see now why Mattes was well liked by the mots.
“You were right before, that apple pasty you ate does taste delicious,” he whispered the next time they parted.
“You’re sarden revolting,” she complained. Now that he mentioned it, she could taste the raisin patties he’d eaten earlier. “I don’t get paid enough,” she muttered. She looked over his shoulder out of the corner of her eye. “They’re just standing there watching us. Have they not got anything better to do?”
“Apparently not.” His face was distractingly close to hers, their foreheads almost touching. “Are you ready to do some Playing?”
“Don’t flatter yourself. If I wasn’t Playing along with you already, I’d have kicked your sarden bum between your sarden ears.”
“I’ll take that as a yes,” he said. His body pressed even harder against hers, completely pinning her against the wall. She realised her feet weren’t touching the ground, so she wrapped her legs around him. Not only did it look the part, but she could kick out if she needed to and it meant Mattes wasn’t completely defenseless. Just as she thought about that, she felt his hand sliding under the edge of her tunic to her hip and resting on one of the hidden knives she had there. His other hand settled on her waist and this time it was her that stretched up to press her lips to his. Her heart was thudding and there were butterflies in her stomach. She hoped he wouldn’t notice, because she wasn’t even sure she could convince herself that it was purely from fear.
They were both gasping for breath when they broke apart this time. Mattes started planting light kisses along the side of her jaw.
“Oh Matty, that feels wonderful,” she exclaimed, deliberately letting her voice carry.
His mouth was right beside her ear. “Matty?” She flashed him a grin. “You call me Matty one more time…” He leaned forward and began kissing her neck. Clary hoped he wouldn’t leave any marks there in revenge... although she probably would have if she were in his place. Tom would find the story entertaining, but if everyone at the kennel found out they’d never let them live it down. She wondered what he would do if she called him Matty again. Half of her dreaded the thought of his hands travelling up underneath the front of her tunic, brushing over her skin and coming into contact with her breastband. She shivered and tried to ignore the other half of her, the half that was urging her to call him Matty again now, just to see…
Her mind was acutely aware of his lips on her neck, his large hand on her hip, the way that his chest pressed up against hers. “What?” she murmured, realising he had spoken. She silently cursed at herself for losing her concentration. She should have been listening out for movements and watching from the corner of her eye – Mattes was relying on her. Of course, it was his fault for causing such a distraction… Wonderful sensations are of no use if you’re dead, Clary, she told herself.
“Are they still there?” Mattes was asking.
She gave an audible moan and let her head fall back, her eyes closed. “Do that again, Matty. It felt nice,” she said, deliberately making her voice husky.
“I’ll get you for that,” he murmured, his lips tickling her skin.
She giggled and peeked through her lashes, seeing that they still had their audience. “Oh yes. Right there, Matty, yes.”
“Pox and murrain,” he muttered, understanding what she was telling him. His hand slid from her waist up under her tunic to the small of her back, finding the knife that was hidden there. His other hand slid deliciously from her hip to underneath her thigh. “Oh, Clara, your skin is so velvety and smooth.” She gave him a look. This was his revenge, then.
Well, two could play at that game. She kissed him again and bit his lip, quite a bit harder than what might have been necessary. She found herself almost disappointed when he didn’t retaliate, although she knew him well enough that she hadn’t expected him to. She avoided thinking about what he might’ve done, and instead pulled his tunic out from his belt.
She was running her hands up his back when he whispered “Take it off.”
Her face turned up to his and she raised an eyebrow. “Mine’s staying on.”
He laughed softly, a low rumble, and removed his hands from her body. “I never said anything about yours.”
“Good,” she replied, and tugged his tunic over his head. “It’s on your left side, in case you need it,” she whispered as she dropped it onto the ground. They kissed again, her hands now running freely over the bare skin of his back. She was starting to wonder how far they were going to have to go and how they could get out when she heard a voice speaking out loud.
“Why aren’t you all doing what you were assigned to? What’s the holdup?”
Other voices began to speak up. “Couple of Dogs canoodling on duty.”
“It was just starting to get good too.”
“It’s not often we get free entertainment like that.”
“We can thank the lazy scuts like them for having such a fine city to…conduct business in.” This was met with laughter from the other Rats.
“Stop wasting your time,” said the first voice. “Do you want Dirty Ned to find out what you’re all doing? If you don’t clear off now, I’ll send for him and his guards.”
She could hear them moving off, amidst plenty of grumbling.
“Hey, I recognise that mot Dog,” said one voice.
“I’ve seen them both before,” replied another. “I always thought the bitch could do with a good swiving.”
Clary stiffened, every muscle in her body tense. “Easy, Clary,” warned Mattes softly. He moved one large hand up to cup the side of her face. “They’re going.”
“I know,” she hissed. “I’m not a looby.” She closed her eyes, her face still close to his, listening hard as the Rats left. After several minutes of silence, she opened her eyes again, taking care to look from the corners of her eyes before looking directly at the entrance to the alleyway. “I’m fairly certain they’re all gone,” she whispered.
The two of them stayed locked in their embrace for a couple more minutes, just to be on the safe side. It was Clary who decided they were obviously fine. She unwrapped her legs from around his body and shoved him away from her. She’d forgotten that her feet couldn’t reach the ground and stumbled as she landed, her legs stiff from being locked around him. She was glad he couldn’t see this, as he was too busy putting his tunic back on and trying to discreetly rearrange his breeches. She made a big show of spitting on the ground, and he chuckled. “You can stop the Playing now, Clary.”
“Of all the sarden stupid plans I’ve ever heard of, that was about the worst,” she snapped.
“It worked, didn’t it? I thought it was brilliant.”
It was brilliant, but that wasn’t the point. “You’re not to tell anyone. I’m certainly not going to sit there while you tell the Magistrate’s Court all about it on Monday.”
“But it worked. We should be showing all the other Dogs how to do it.”
She glared at him, knowing he was teasing her, and changed the subject to the one thing that always worked with him. “Let’s go and find some food.”
“Let’s go back to Deirdre.” He gave her a wicked grin, something he’d picked up from her. “You’ve worked up my appetite for her apple pasties.”
Rating: R. (I'm not entirely sure if this is right or not, but it's not any more explicit than what Tammy's written in the books.)
Length: 1641 words
Category: Tortall
Summary: Clary and Mattes get themselves out of a tricky situation by pretending to be canoodling while on duty.
Peculiar Pairing: Goodwin/Tunstall
“Finally, they’re finished,” murmured Mattes. “I’m half starved.”
“You think I don’t know that?” retorted Clary. “I’ve been listening to your belly rumbling for the last hour.”
He opened his mouth to reply when her hand clamped down on his arm. “They’re coming this way,” she hissed.
His brown eyes were looking straight down at her. “Pepperell said they wouldn’t.”
“Well they are, pox rot them,” she snapped. “They’re coming from both sides and we’re trapped in the middle. If we get out of this alive, I’ll make his sarden tongue into a belt-pouch, the fen-sucked scut.”
“Focus on getting out alive first,” he told her. He dragged her by the wrist into a small side alley. “Maybe they won’t spot us if we’re in the shadows.”
“Are you cracknobbed? We’re even more trapped now! We can’t fight our way out from here, you looby, they’ll block us in and kill us!”
“We were trapped anyway,” he pointed out. “It’s better than staying out there, they were certain to find us.”
“And what reason have we got to give for standing in the shadows in this stinking alley?”
“I’m thinking.”
“Think a bit sarden faster, they’re almost here!” she hissed.
“Beat me up later,” he told her. She didn’t even have time to wonder why before he picked her up, pressed her up against the wall, and kissed her. A string of curses tumbled out of her mouth under her breath when they parted for air. “Well, I didn’t see you coming up with anything better,” he pointed out.
“Are you really that desperate for a woman?” She couldn’t hear his usual deep rumble of a laugh, but she could feel it. “Cracknobbed barbarian,” she muttered.
“We’ve got company,” he whispered, hearing movement at a distance behind him, and kissed her again. Clary closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around his neck, listening hard for signs of movement nearby. At least Mattes could kiss a mot well, she thought. Not that Tom couldn’t, they were just different. She could definitely see now why Mattes was well liked by the mots.
“You were right before, that apple pasty you ate does taste delicious,” he whispered the next time they parted.
“You’re sarden revolting,” she complained. Now that he mentioned it, she could taste the raisin patties he’d eaten earlier. “I don’t get paid enough,” she muttered. She looked over his shoulder out of the corner of her eye. “They’re just standing there watching us. Have they not got anything better to do?”
“Apparently not.” His face was distractingly close to hers, their foreheads almost touching. “Are you ready to do some Playing?”
“Don’t flatter yourself. If I wasn’t Playing along with you already, I’d have kicked your sarden bum between your sarden ears.”
“I’ll take that as a yes,” he said. His body pressed even harder against hers, completely pinning her against the wall. She realised her feet weren’t touching the ground, so she wrapped her legs around him. Not only did it look the part, but she could kick out if she needed to and it meant Mattes wasn’t completely defenseless. Just as she thought about that, she felt his hand sliding under the edge of her tunic to her hip and resting on one of the hidden knives she had there. His other hand settled on her waist and this time it was her that stretched up to press her lips to his. Her heart was thudding and there were butterflies in her stomach. She hoped he wouldn’t notice, because she wasn’t even sure she could convince herself that it was purely from fear.
They were both gasping for breath when they broke apart this time. Mattes started planting light kisses along the side of her jaw.
“Oh Matty, that feels wonderful,” she exclaimed, deliberately letting her voice carry.
His mouth was right beside her ear. “Matty?” She flashed him a grin. “You call me Matty one more time…” He leaned forward and began kissing her neck. Clary hoped he wouldn’t leave any marks there in revenge... although she probably would have if she were in his place. Tom would find the story entertaining, but if everyone at the kennel found out they’d never let them live it down. She wondered what he would do if she called him Matty again. Half of her dreaded the thought of his hands travelling up underneath the front of her tunic, brushing over her skin and coming into contact with her breastband. She shivered and tried to ignore the other half of her, the half that was urging her to call him Matty again now, just to see…
Her mind was acutely aware of his lips on her neck, his large hand on her hip, the way that his chest pressed up against hers. “What?” she murmured, realising he had spoken. She silently cursed at herself for losing her concentration. She should have been listening out for movements and watching from the corner of her eye – Mattes was relying on her. Of course, it was his fault for causing such a distraction… Wonderful sensations are of no use if you’re dead, Clary, she told herself.
“Are they still there?” Mattes was asking.
She gave an audible moan and let her head fall back, her eyes closed. “Do that again, Matty. It felt nice,” she said, deliberately making her voice husky.
“I’ll get you for that,” he murmured, his lips tickling her skin.
She giggled and peeked through her lashes, seeing that they still had their audience. “Oh yes. Right there, Matty, yes.”
“Pox and murrain,” he muttered, understanding what she was telling him. His hand slid from her waist up under her tunic to the small of her back, finding the knife that was hidden there. His other hand slid deliciously from her hip to underneath her thigh. “Oh, Clara, your skin is so velvety and smooth.” She gave him a look. This was his revenge, then.
Well, two could play at that game. She kissed him again and bit his lip, quite a bit harder than what might have been necessary. She found herself almost disappointed when he didn’t retaliate, although she knew him well enough that she hadn’t expected him to. She avoided thinking about what he might’ve done, and instead pulled his tunic out from his belt.
She was running her hands up his back when he whispered “Take it off.”
Her face turned up to his and she raised an eyebrow. “Mine’s staying on.”
He laughed softly, a low rumble, and removed his hands from her body. “I never said anything about yours.”
“Good,” she replied, and tugged his tunic over his head. “It’s on your left side, in case you need it,” she whispered as she dropped it onto the ground. They kissed again, her hands now running freely over the bare skin of his back. She was starting to wonder how far they were going to have to go and how they could get out when she heard a voice speaking out loud.
“Why aren’t you all doing what you were assigned to? What’s the holdup?”
Other voices began to speak up. “Couple of Dogs canoodling on duty.”
“It was just starting to get good too.”
“It’s not often we get free entertainment like that.”
“We can thank the lazy scuts like them for having such a fine city to…conduct business in.” This was met with laughter from the other Rats.
“Stop wasting your time,” said the first voice. “Do you want Dirty Ned to find out what you’re all doing? If you don’t clear off now, I’ll send for him and his guards.”
She could hear them moving off, amidst plenty of grumbling.
“Hey, I recognise that mot Dog,” said one voice.
“I’ve seen them both before,” replied another. “I always thought the bitch could do with a good swiving.”
Clary stiffened, every muscle in her body tense. “Easy, Clary,” warned Mattes softly. He moved one large hand up to cup the side of her face. “They’re going.”
“I know,” she hissed. “I’m not a looby.” She closed her eyes, her face still close to his, listening hard as the Rats left. After several minutes of silence, she opened her eyes again, taking care to look from the corners of her eyes before looking directly at the entrance to the alleyway. “I’m fairly certain they’re all gone,” she whispered.
The two of them stayed locked in their embrace for a couple more minutes, just to be on the safe side. It was Clary who decided they were obviously fine. She unwrapped her legs from around his body and shoved him away from her. She’d forgotten that her feet couldn’t reach the ground and stumbled as she landed, her legs stiff from being locked around him. She was glad he couldn’t see this, as he was too busy putting his tunic back on and trying to discreetly rearrange his breeches. She made a big show of spitting on the ground, and he chuckled. “You can stop the Playing now, Clary.”
“Of all the sarden stupid plans I’ve ever heard of, that was about the worst,” she snapped.
“It worked, didn’t it? I thought it was brilliant.”
It was brilliant, but that wasn’t the point. “You’re not to tell anyone. I’m certainly not going to sit there while you tell the Magistrate’s Court all about it on Monday.”
“But it worked. We should be showing all the other Dogs how to do it.”
She glared at him, knowing he was teasing her, and changed the subject to the one thing that always worked with him. “Let’s go and find some food.”
“Let’s go back to Deirdre.” He gave her a wicked grin, something he’d picked up from her. “You’ve worked up my appetite for her apple pasties.”
I can just picture Beka's face if this is ever mentioned...
