![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
prunesquallormdTitle: Full beautiful, a faery's child
Fandom: Phoenix Wright, Ace Attorney
Pairing(s): Adrian Andrews/Franziska von Karma
Rating: NC-17
Summary: There are some lessons that Adrian Andrews must learn the hard way. She doesn't appear to be complaining ...
Word count: 2560
Warnings:Dom!Franziska/Sub!Adrian, spanking, masturbation, yada, yada, yada. This is filth, pure and simple, despite the fact that it's probably one of the least explicit things I've written in ages.
A/N: This is a little present for the super-lovely![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sushizuzoru who wanted, if I remember rightly, "well-written, shamelessly filthy smut". Well, I can't vouch for the well-written bit, but it's certainly filthy, and I seem to have lost the last vestiges of shame I had a while back.
I hope you enjoy it, sweetie :)
Oodles and oodles of thanks to my beta,perverbially. Most of what I know about these characters comes from her, and she's been incredibly helpful with all sorts of things. It's more true than usual to say that anything good or enjoyable about this is due to her. Obviously, anything that's dodgy or unenjoyable comes from me.
Thank you, hon. You're a star ♥
The title is from Keats's 'La Belle Dame Sans Merci' because, honestly, it's porn. How else am I going to make it classy?
Disclaimer: The characters belong to Capcom, and they probably wouldn't approve of what I've done to them, but hey, it's just for fun!
Adrian Andrews shivered, standing stock-still, her head cocked. There was silence now, but she could have sworn that there had been something. Barely a noise, not really, more of a sensation, pattering across the tender skin on the back of her neck, causing her hackles to rise and her breath to quicken. She breathed in, deep and slow, holding it, casting around to the catch the sound again. Nothing. She shook her head, something like disappointment replacing the apprehension, unlocked the door of her office and stepped inside.
“Well then, let's see if we can't get this done with minimal distractions, shall we?” she muttered to herself.
The blinds of her second-floor office were closed, and anyway it had been pitch black for a couple of hours at least. The room was a mass of shadow. It was why she didn't see the figure at the desk before she reached for the light switch. Even the muffled clip of high heels on carpet failed to give her the necessary warning. They were so quick. And then there was a hand at her wrist, pinning it to the wall, the warmth of a body flush against her own.
Franziska's voice was low and husky, her breath hot against Adrian's ear. “Adrian Andrews, haven't I always told you how important it is to be aware of your surroundings? Who is to say what sort of fools and criminals could be lying in wait for you? And what exactly they may be planning?”
The shock had frozen Adrian in place, stopped her breath in her throat, but when she could breathe again she felt the anger bubbling up inside her.
“For crying out loud, Franziska! What do you think you're playing at? Get off of me!”
“Get off of you?” Franziska asked, chuckling. “Now, where would be the fun in that? And anyway, I think you need to learn a lesson about what happens to careless fools.”
There was a click. Cold light bathed Adrian, making her blink at the wall she found herself staring at. Franziska returned her hand to Adrian's wrist, grasping it firmly. Her left hand began to track upwards from its place at Adrian's waist, tracking the swell of one breast, squeezing gently.
“Well, well. Adrian Andrews, what is that I can feel?” Franziska's voice was a whisper, hardly more than a breath in Adrian's ear. Adrian gasped as Franziska squeezed harder, her rapidly stiffening nipples registering an all too obvious lack of objection to her situation. She was starting to feel more than a little shaky on her feet; it was all she could do to brace herself against the wall, Franziska's body – demanding, insistent – pressing hard against her. She let her head loll back, resting on Franziska's shoulder, eyes closed, mouth open.
“Oh my, Franziska. How do you do that?” Adrian could feel the throbbing radiating from her chest, a sensitivity just on the verge of pain. It found an echo between her legs, the heat and pulse betraying a response that she could no longer hide. She moaned.
“Don't talk, don't move unless I tell you. Do you understand?” Franziska's voice was harsh against her ear. Adrian shivered, the heat in her belly becoming almost too much to bear. She pressed her thighs together desperately. “Well? I asked you a question. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Franziska.” Adrian's own voice was as quiet as Franziska's now, and it was followed almost instantly by the smack – more shocking than painful – of Franziska's palm against the fullness of her bottom. The material of her skirt relieved the impact a little, but she still whimpered.
“Clearly you didn't understand me. Didn't I tell you not to talk? Well?”
Adrian froze, wanting to obey, all confusion. Even with her eyes closed, her body pressed to Franziska's, the softness of her breasts against her back, Adrian felt like a startled animal, uncertain which way to turn. Franziska squeezed her right nipple between the thumb and finger of her left hand, her right resting on the curve of Adrian's bum.
“Well,” Franziska repeated. Adrian couldn't hear any intonation in her whisper, amusement or threat. “I'm waiting.”
Adrian nodded slowly, a whimper in the back of her throat. Unable to control herself she reached around for the hand on her bottom, grasping the wrist, desperate for the feel of Franziska's fingers in her heat. A short, sharp pressure on her nipple and a nip of teeth on her neck served as both reward and warning. Adrian gasped, the sound almost drowning out that of Franziska's gentle tutting.
“Oh no, we'll have none of that. You'll have to be patient. And perhaps, if you learn your lesson, you'll be rewarded.”
Adrian moaned, a reaction so involuntary that, for a moment, she couldn't identify the source of the sound. The heat between her legs was almost unbearable. She clenched around fingers that were sadly absent and spoke, low and intense, Franziska's rules momentarily forgotten.
“Please, Franziska! Just touch me. Please? You're driving me insane!” Her fingers were still locked around Franziska's wrist, but she didn't react when the other woman pulled it from her grip, only to grasp at the hem of her skirt and pull it firmly upwards. The impact that followed – Franziska's palm firm against the tender flesh of one buttock – dragged a short cry from her that was equal parts pain and lust. Her legs were like jelly, she was light-headed, her panties a flood. Her breathing (short, desperate pants) was the only noise in the room for several endless moments, the reverberation of a single slap echoing only in her own mind, finding a second echo in her throbbing flesh and a different, altogether more urgent throbbing deep in her belly.
“Oh, Adrian. Would that you weren't such a poor student. Must I continue to punish you?” Franziska's voice sounded stern, disappointed. She laughed a moment later, though. “You'd like that, wouldn't you? Foolish girl. This really is going to hurt me more than it hurts you, isn't it?”
With a sudden, almost violent twist, Franziska turned Adrian around, propelling her towards her desk, her skirt still hitched to her waist. She stumbled on legs seemingly incapable of supporting her own weight, but Franziska (close behind, hands still on breast and bottom) steadied her for the few awkward steps it took to reach the compulsively tidy solidity of its surface. Without a word of prompting Adrian bent at the waist, grasping the other side of the desk, pressing herself firmly against the wood. For a moment she could feel Franziska's full weight on her, her hands working at her wrists, easing loops of stiff leather around them. The knot was proficient, no-nonsense, effective, pure Franziska. The whip's stock she placed in a desk drawer, wedging it shut.
It had been the work of only a few seconds. One moment, Adrian was upright, mostly clothed, if flustered, pressed against the door of her office, the next she was bent over her own desk, her hands bound together above her head. Her heart was racing. If she could have seen herself now – and she really had no way of doing so, couldn't turn her head to look at anything but the wall to her left – she knew that her usually pale skin would probably be flushed to the colour of her favourite pink roses (the ones that it had taken her so long to train Franziska into buying her).
She heard a cough behind her. It was a sound that seemed intended to attract her attention, but it was unnecessary. She'd never been so focused on one person in her life. Her skin was tingling and she was sure that the tingling tracked Franziska's movements. She knew that she expected the hand that brushed gently against her sodden panties, stroking her achingly slowly. And yet still she sighed when it came, and forced her hips back to meet it.
“Adrian Andrews, I think you're enjoying this a little too much!” Franziska was trying so hard to sound stern, but a slight rasp in her voice betrayed her. “Clearly you don't understand the importance of dignity and self-control. Must I teach you?” Her hand stilled, even as Adrian wriggled in her attempt to achieve friction. Adrian sighed again, a feeling of utter contentment almost overshadowing her desire.
“I'm sorry, Franziska,” she murmured, deliberately keeping her voice low and respectful. “I don't understand what you mean.” As she was speaking she strained even harder at her bonds, the leather chafing slightly at her wrists. She arched her back, forcing her bottom upwards, pressing back against Franziska's hand. “Please teach me.”
Franziska harumphed. “Well, I fear that you'll be a very slow study. You Americans have no discipline. But still, as you asked so politely, I'll see if I can't do something about that.”
She had almost no warning, only the sudden absence of Franziska's hand on the warmth between her legs. She cried out at the sharp sting of Franziska's palm against one cheek, and then the other, closing her eyes. She wriggled her bottom teasingly, luxuriating in the warmth and throb that Franziska's palm was now gently soothing away. The respite was brief, though, and it was not to return so quickly. Franziska's hand was unceasing, starting slowly, almost gently, and building to a power and speed that left Adrian's head reeling and her backside a never-ending sensation, pain tinged with pleasure. She cried out at each stroke, pushing back against Franziska's hands, tears springing to her eyes. She would have sworn that both the cheeks of her bottom and the area between – still covered by her panties – were actually radiating heat. She felt her insides clench, again and again, so close.
Franziska's voice became quieter and quieter as it moved closer to her, a constant ripple of sound that Adrian could barely focus on, so overwhelmed was she by the rhythm of that hand against her tender flesh.
“Well? Answer me when I'm talking to you!” Franziska's sharp tones finally penetrated to her conscious mind. Clearly a response was required, but what? Had she missed something important? As she struggled to produce an answer, Franziska's hand slowed, finally coming to rest between her legs. For the second time in only a few minutes, she could hardly recognise the sound that emerged from her own throat, for all the world a mewl, like some sort of disgruntled feline, as she desperately pressed herself against Franziska's hand.
“I asked, Adrian Andrews, whether or not you've finally learned your lesson,” Franziska's voice lashed her as she removed her fingers from where they were so desperately needed. “Do you plan on answering me, or shall I continue?”
Adrian flailed inwardly. She was all sensation and emotion. She felt hardly capable of thinking rationally. All she knew was that she needed Franziska to soothe the ache between her legs. A direct request - even a plea – was hardly likely to do the trick. It so rarely did. Franziska von Karma did like to tease so. And yet, Adrian couldn't help herself.
“Oh, Franziska! Please, darling, I need you. I can't stand it any longer. Oh my ...” Her voice trailed off into a breathless moan, all control gone.
Franziska, to her astonishment and relief, took pity on her. She chuckled throatily. She seemed unable to maintain her strict demeanour in the face of Adrian's helpless desire.
“Adrian, Adrian, Adrian. Oh, what am I to do with you? Such potential, yet so little control. Just like so much of your country.” Even as she spoke her fingers stroked Adrian, the softest touch ghosting over her heat, drawing a sigh from Adrian's lips and the slightest movement of her hips. It was the only sign of approval she could risk showing. She was so very close to the edge. If Franziska didn't send her over it soon she would go quite mad.
And then, finally – oh god, finally! - Franziska's finger eased beneath the cotton of her panties and slid against soft flesh, pushing down and forward until... Oh. Oh god. Adrian couldn't even tell if she'd spoken. Her every sense was focused on the friction between her legs. Franziska wasn't gentle. She leaned forward so that her body covered Adrian's, her face in her hair, her left hand forcing itself underneath her to grasp roughly at her breast, her right hand tracing quick, insistent, perfectly placed circles. The wave broke over her in moments, her body quaking, an agony of ecstasy and happiness. She couldn't have said if she cried Franziska's name when she came. She could barely remember to breathe; conscious speech was so far beyond her...
*~*~*~*
The trill of a phone broke through the mental white noise of Adrian's climax just as she was easing herself down, her fingers slick and eager against herself. She swore breathlessly and twisted her head against the pillow until she could just see Franziska von Karma's picture lighting up the screen of her cellphone (Franziska had been in a bad mood the day it was taken, all glowering brow and exasperation. She could never understand why Adrian found it so adorable). Her heart leapt a little – even now, after so long – as she reached for the phone with her left, unoccupied, hand.
“Franziska, darling. I was just thinking about you,” she said, her voice breathy and more than a little hoarse. She could almost hear Franziska's eyebrows climb towards her hairline as she responded.
“Really, now? Is that so? And with a voice like that I'm sure I don't have to ask where your hand was while you were thinking.” She was mock-stern, but there was an annoyance there, also. “Well, I'm sorry to say that you'll have to make do with your thoughts for a little while longer. I'm surrounded by fools and incompetents, as if I wasn't painfully aware of that already, and yet again I must tidy up someone else's mess. Oh, and if I see that foolish fool of a brother of mine he's going to regret the day that he was ever accepted into the family von Karma.” The crack in her voice was accompanied by a literal crack, her whip punctuating her words. Adrian felt her whole body shiver in something other than sympathy for Miles Edgeworth's fate.
“How long?” She tried hard to hide her frustration and disappointment, but she was afraid that she was anything but successful.
“Long enough that I fear that you may tire yourself out long before I arrive,” Franziska replied, chuckling. “Do I need to tell you how severely I'll punish you if I come home to find you spent?”
Adrian flushed, her reply barely audible. “Oh goodness, Franziska. Tell me. Please!”
Franziska chuckled once more. “Adrian Andrews, you're incorrigible. You should be ashamed of yourself. However, I actually think you do need reminding. So, let's see. Where shall I begin?”
Adrian nestled the phone into the crook of her neck, made herself comfortable, and waited.
Franziska began ...
Fandom: Phoenix Wright, Ace Attorney
Pairing(s): Adrian Andrews/Franziska von Karma
Rating: NC-17
Summary: There are some lessons that Adrian Andrews must learn the hard way. She doesn't appear to be complaining ...
Word count: 2560
Warnings:Dom!Franziska/Sub!Adrian, spanking, masturbation, yada, yada, yada. This is filth, pure and simple, despite the fact that it's probably one of the least explicit things I've written in ages.
A/N: This is a little present for the super-lovely
sushizuzoru who wanted, if I remember rightly, "well-written, shamelessly filthy smut". Well, I can't vouch for the well-written bit, but it's certainly filthy, and I seem to have lost the last vestiges of shame I had a while back. I hope you enjoy it, sweetie :)
Oodles and oodles of thanks to my beta,
perverbially. Most of what I know about these characters comes from her, and she's been incredibly helpful with all sorts of things. It's more true than usual to say that anything good or enjoyable about this is due to her. Obviously, anything that's dodgy or unenjoyable comes from me.Thank you, hon. You're a star ♥
The title is from Keats's 'La Belle Dame Sans Merci' because, honestly, it's porn. How else am I going to make it classy?
Disclaimer: The characters belong to Capcom, and they probably wouldn't approve of what I've done to them, but hey, it's just for fun!
Adrian Andrews shivered, standing stock-still, her head cocked. There was silence now, but she could have sworn that there had been something. Barely a noise, not really, more of a sensation, pattering across the tender skin on the back of her neck, causing her hackles to rise and her breath to quicken. She breathed in, deep and slow, holding it, casting around to the catch the sound again. Nothing. She shook her head, something like disappointment replacing the apprehension, unlocked the door of her office and stepped inside.
“Well then, let's see if we can't get this done with minimal distractions, shall we?” she muttered to herself.
The blinds of her second-floor office were closed, and anyway it had been pitch black for a couple of hours at least. The room was a mass of shadow. It was why she didn't see the figure at the desk before she reached for the light switch. Even the muffled clip of high heels on carpet failed to give her the necessary warning. They were so quick. And then there was a hand at her wrist, pinning it to the wall, the warmth of a body flush against her own.
Franziska's voice was low and husky, her breath hot against Adrian's ear. “Adrian Andrews, haven't I always told you how important it is to be aware of your surroundings? Who is to say what sort of fools and criminals could be lying in wait for you? And what exactly they may be planning?”
The shock had frozen Adrian in place, stopped her breath in her throat, but when she could breathe again she felt the anger bubbling up inside her.
“For crying out loud, Franziska! What do you think you're playing at? Get off of me!”
“Get off of you?” Franziska asked, chuckling. “Now, where would be the fun in that? And anyway, I think you need to learn a lesson about what happens to careless fools.”
There was a click. Cold light bathed Adrian, making her blink at the wall she found herself staring at. Franziska returned her hand to Adrian's wrist, grasping it firmly. Her left hand began to track upwards from its place at Adrian's waist, tracking the swell of one breast, squeezing gently.
“Well, well. Adrian Andrews, what is that I can feel?” Franziska's voice was a whisper, hardly more than a breath in Adrian's ear. Adrian gasped as Franziska squeezed harder, her rapidly stiffening nipples registering an all too obvious lack of objection to her situation. She was starting to feel more than a little shaky on her feet; it was all she could do to brace herself against the wall, Franziska's body – demanding, insistent – pressing hard against her. She let her head loll back, resting on Franziska's shoulder, eyes closed, mouth open.
“Oh my, Franziska. How do you do that?” Adrian could feel the throbbing radiating from her chest, a sensitivity just on the verge of pain. It found an echo between her legs, the heat and pulse betraying a response that she could no longer hide. She moaned.
“Don't talk, don't move unless I tell you. Do you understand?” Franziska's voice was harsh against her ear. Adrian shivered, the heat in her belly becoming almost too much to bear. She pressed her thighs together desperately. “Well? I asked you a question. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Franziska.” Adrian's own voice was as quiet as Franziska's now, and it was followed almost instantly by the smack – more shocking than painful – of Franziska's palm against the fullness of her bottom. The material of her skirt relieved the impact a little, but she still whimpered.
“Clearly you didn't understand me. Didn't I tell you not to talk? Well?”
Adrian froze, wanting to obey, all confusion. Even with her eyes closed, her body pressed to Franziska's, the softness of her breasts against her back, Adrian felt like a startled animal, uncertain which way to turn. Franziska squeezed her right nipple between the thumb and finger of her left hand, her right resting on the curve of Adrian's bum.
“Well,” Franziska repeated. Adrian couldn't hear any intonation in her whisper, amusement or threat. “I'm waiting.”
Adrian nodded slowly, a whimper in the back of her throat. Unable to control herself she reached around for the hand on her bottom, grasping the wrist, desperate for the feel of Franziska's fingers in her heat. A short, sharp pressure on her nipple and a nip of teeth on her neck served as both reward and warning. Adrian gasped, the sound almost drowning out that of Franziska's gentle tutting.
“Oh no, we'll have none of that. You'll have to be patient. And perhaps, if you learn your lesson, you'll be rewarded.”
Adrian moaned, a reaction so involuntary that, for a moment, she couldn't identify the source of the sound. The heat between her legs was almost unbearable. She clenched around fingers that were sadly absent and spoke, low and intense, Franziska's rules momentarily forgotten.
“Please, Franziska! Just touch me. Please? You're driving me insane!” Her fingers were still locked around Franziska's wrist, but she didn't react when the other woman pulled it from her grip, only to grasp at the hem of her skirt and pull it firmly upwards. The impact that followed – Franziska's palm firm against the tender flesh of one buttock – dragged a short cry from her that was equal parts pain and lust. Her legs were like jelly, she was light-headed, her panties a flood. Her breathing (short, desperate pants) was the only noise in the room for several endless moments, the reverberation of a single slap echoing only in her own mind, finding a second echo in her throbbing flesh and a different, altogether more urgent throbbing deep in her belly.
“Oh, Adrian. Would that you weren't such a poor student. Must I continue to punish you?” Franziska's voice sounded stern, disappointed. She laughed a moment later, though. “You'd like that, wouldn't you? Foolish girl. This really is going to hurt me more than it hurts you, isn't it?”
With a sudden, almost violent twist, Franziska turned Adrian around, propelling her towards her desk, her skirt still hitched to her waist. She stumbled on legs seemingly incapable of supporting her own weight, but Franziska (close behind, hands still on breast and bottom) steadied her for the few awkward steps it took to reach the compulsively tidy solidity of its surface. Without a word of prompting Adrian bent at the waist, grasping the other side of the desk, pressing herself firmly against the wood. For a moment she could feel Franziska's full weight on her, her hands working at her wrists, easing loops of stiff leather around them. The knot was proficient, no-nonsense, effective, pure Franziska. The whip's stock she placed in a desk drawer, wedging it shut.
It had been the work of only a few seconds. One moment, Adrian was upright, mostly clothed, if flustered, pressed against the door of her office, the next she was bent over her own desk, her hands bound together above her head. Her heart was racing. If she could have seen herself now – and she really had no way of doing so, couldn't turn her head to look at anything but the wall to her left – she knew that her usually pale skin would probably be flushed to the colour of her favourite pink roses (the ones that it had taken her so long to train Franziska into buying her).
She heard a cough behind her. It was a sound that seemed intended to attract her attention, but it was unnecessary. She'd never been so focused on one person in her life. Her skin was tingling and she was sure that the tingling tracked Franziska's movements. She knew that she expected the hand that brushed gently against her sodden panties, stroking her achingly slowly. And yet still she sighed when it came, and forced her hips back to meet it.
“Adrian Andrews, I think you're enjoying this a little too much!” Franziska was trying so hard to sound stern, but a slight rasp in her voice betrayed her. “Clearly you don't understand the importance of dignity and self-control. Must I teach you?” Her hand stilled, even as Adrian wriggled in her attempt to achieve friction. Adrian sighed again, a feeling of utter contentment almost overshadowing her desire.
“I'm sorry, Franziska,” she murmured, deliberately keeping her voice low and respectful. “I don't understand what you mean.” As she was speaking she strained even harder at her bonds, the leather chafing slightly at her wrists. She arched her back, forcing her bottom upwards, pressing back against Franziska's hand. “Please teach me.”
Franziska harumphed. “Well, I fear that you'll be a very slow study. You Americans have no discipline. But still, as you asked so politely, I'll see if I can't do something about that.”
She had almost no warning, only the sudden absence of Franziska's hand on the warmth between her legs. She cried out at the sharp sting of Franziska's palm against one cheek, and then the other, closing her eyes. She wriggled her bottom teasingly, luxuriating in the warmth and throb that Franziska's palm was now gently soothing away. The respite was brief, though, and it was not to return so quickly. Franziska's hand was unceasing, starting slowly, almost gently, and building to a power and speed that left Adrian's head reeling and her backside a never-ending sensation, pain tinged with pleasure. She cried out at each stroke, pushing back against Franziska's hands, tears springing to her eyes. She would have sworn that both the cheeks of her bottom and the area between – still covered by her panties – were actually radiating heat. She felt her insides clench, again and again, so close.
Franziska's voice became quieter and quieter as it moved closer to her, a constant ripple of sound that Adrian could barely focus on, so overwhelmed was she by the rhythm of that hand against her tender flesh.
“Well? Answer me when I'm talking to you!” Franziska's sharp tones finally penetrated to her conscious mind. Clearly a response was required, but what? Had she missed something important? As she struggled to produce an answer, Franziska's hand slowed, finally coming to rest between her legs. For the second time in only a few minutes, she could hardly recognise the sound that emerged from her own throat, for all the world a mewl, like some sort of disgruntled feline, as she desperately pressed herself against Franziska's hand.
“I asked, Adrian Andrews, whether or not you've finally learned your lesson,” Franziska's voice lashed her as she removed her fingers from where they were so desperately needed. “Do you plan on answering me, or shall I continue?”
Adrian flailed inwardly. She was all sensation and emotion. She felt hardly capable of thinking rationally. All she knew was that she needed Franziska to soothe the ache between her legs. A direct request - even a plea – was hardly likely to do the trick. It so rarely did. Franziska von Karma did like to tease so. And yet, Adrian couldn't help herself.
“Oh, Franziska! Please, darling, I need you. I can't stand it any longer. Oh my ...” Her voice trailed off into a breathless moan, all control gone.
Franziska, to her astonishment and relief, took pity on her. She chuckled throatily. She seemed unable to maintain her strict demeanour in the face of Adrian's helpless desire.
“Adrian, Adrian, Adrian. Oh, what am I to do with you? Such potential, yet so little control. Just like so much of your country.” Even as she spoke her fingers stroked Adrian, the softest touch ghosting over her heat, drawing a sigh from Adrian's lips and the slightest movement of her hips. It was the only sign of approval she could risk showing. She was so very close to the edge. If Franziska didn't send her over it soon she would go quite mad.
And then, finally – oh god, finally! - Franziska's finger eased beneath the cotton of her panties and slid against soft flesh, pushing down and forward until... Oh. Oh god. Adrian couldn't even tell if she'd spoken. Her every sense was focused on the friction between her legs. Franziska wasn't gentle. She leaned forward so that her body covered Adrian's, her face in her hair, her left hand forcing itself underneath her to grasp roughly at her breast, her right hand tracing quick, insistent, perfectly placed circles. The wave broke over her in moments, her body quaking, an agony of ecstasy and happiness. She couldn't have said if she cried Franziska's name when she came. She could barely remember to breathe; conscious speech was so far beyond her...
*~*~*~*
The trill of a phone broke through the mental white noise of Adrian's climax just as she was easing herself down, her fingers slick and eager against herself. She swore breathlessly and twisted her head against the pillow until she could just see Franziska von Karma's picture lighting up the screen of her cellphone (Franziska had been in a bad mood the day it was taken, all glowering brow and exasperation. She could never understand why Adrian found it so adorable). Her heart leapt a little – even now, after so long – as she reached for the phone with her left, unoccupied, hand.
“Franziska, darling. I was just thinking about you,” she said, her voice breathy and more than a little hoarse. She could almost hear Franziska's eyebrows climb towards her hairline as she responded.
“Really, now? Is that so? And with a voice like that I'm sure I don't have to ask where your hand was while you were thinking.” She was mock-stern, but there was an annoyance there, also. “Well, I'm sorry to say that you'll have to make do with your thoughts for a little while longer. I'm surrounded by fools and incompetents, as if I wasn't painfully aware of that already, and yet again I must tidy up someone else's mess. Oh, and if I see that foolish fool of a brother of mine he's going to regret the day that he was ever accepted into the family von Karma.” The crack in her voice was accompanied by a literal crack, her whip punctuating her words. Adrian felt her whole body shiver in something other than sympathy for Miles Edgeworth's fate.
“How long?” She tried hard to hide her frustration and disappointment, but she was afraid that she was anything but successful.
“Long enough that I fear that you may tire yourself out long before I arrive,” Franziska replied, chuckling. “Do I need to tell you how severely I'll punish you if I come home to find you spent?”
Adrian flushed, her reply barely audible. “Oh goodness, Franziska. Tell me. Please!”
Franziska chuckled once more. “Adrian Andrews, you're incorrigible. You should be ashamed of yourself. However, I actually think you do need reminding. So, let's see. Where shall I begin?”
Adrian nestled the phone into the crook of her neck, made herself comfortable, and waited.
Franziska began ...
