Substitute (challenge 108, C/C, PG/slash)
Posted: Sun Sep 27, 2009 10:50 pm
Title: Substitute
Author: redwinter101
Rating: PG/slash
Disclaimer: I don't own Moonlight or any of its characters
Note: A little Coraline/Cynthia - by far the slashiest couple in the Moonlight universe. Nothing explicit here so please do read and comment if the mood takes you. Written for the slash quest challenge.
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--- Substitute ---
November 1965
A final inspection, a twist in the glass, catching angle and curve. Cynthia fiddled with the knotted silk at her throat, cursing fumbling fingers. The simple invitation called for casual chic not the too-formal frock, the too-set curls, the too-needy smile. She tore the scarf from her throat, tears of frustration burning. Dress, jewellery, purse followed to the floor. A smeared hand scuffed a scarlet slash across her cheek.
Gulping for calm she sank to the edge of the bed, shoulders slumping. Defeat beckoned. This was an invitation-only game, Coraline's rules, orbiting players coming and going, winning and losing at her whim. The prize, her affection, her attention, her consideration. To be important to her.
The years of knowing counted for much, but Cynthia wanted, needed more than the role in which she had been cast, the confidante, the trusted ally, the safe port in any storm. As she stared at her reflection, ruffled, tear-stained, tired of the struggle to be effortless, she wondered which was worse. Knowing she was being played, or submitting anyway.
Coraline's phone call had been the invitation they both knew she wouldn't refuse, "So there I was, left waiting at the bar like some high-class hooker, while my darling husband-" She had tuned out the details of Mick's whereabouts. He was feckless and foolish; he had the world but only saw disappointment, lost in his yearning to be ordinary once more. "Can you come over? I could use the... company."
It was into that moment of pause that Cynthia poured her desire. Loneliness was the only thing Coraline truly feared and her need presented an opening, a chance. Cynthia's price, unstated but accepted, was intimacy. No longer a servant, she would be more than a friend. An opportunity at last to assume the role she craved. Disentangling Coraline's child-like longing for Mick would take time and persistence and she had plenty of both.
The realisation that Coraline needed her renewed her resolve. If they were to be equals, it started now. Back into the shower she scrubbed away her careful efforts for perfection, railing against her own eagerness to please, not to be found wanting. Starting over, she left her face unadorned, slipping on jeans and sweater, a watch her only jewellery. Finally, she could look at her reflection and smile. Safe in her own skin she could offer Coraline the comfort they both needed.
The drive was too short and too fast, anticipation bringing a flush to her cheeks. She strove for calm, assurance, resolve. "She called you," she repeated to herself as she drew near. The night was cool, a rare breeze keeping humidity at bay. Cynthia's mind wandered, planning ahead, imagining Coraline's slow smile of welcome and promise. They would both know.
The Mercedes was parked out front; Mick must have left in a hurry to have abandoned his precious car. A brief moment of temptation, hovering by the smooth bodywork, keys in hand. It would have been satisfying to leave her mark, but a greater victory lay within her grasp. A sly smile and a toss of her hair; a deep breath and a steady stride to the door.
The scent hit her as she raised her hand to knock. The heavy pungency of desire. Coraline's laugh tumbling from brittle crystal to almost-moan. Mick murmuring, his voice caressing her skin.
Her fist still raised, clenching, sweaty-palmed as she decided. Eyes screwed tight against the scene she imagined within.
A rustle of silk as Coraline made her way to the door, throwing it wide, making sure she could see. Mick, lounging naked, sated. She barely bothered to draw her robe closed as she leant against the jamb, "Cynthia, how lovely of you to stop by." Her smile hovered on the edge of a smirk. "I'm afraid I'm a little busy right now. I'm sure you understand." She moved close, pressing her lips to Cynthia's cheek, leaving her crimson mark, a brush of fingers along the soft flesh of her throat drawing a shiver.
She turned away, finished with her now-unwelcome visitor. "I'll call you."
The door closed in her face, dismissed. Rigid, hot shame burning her skin, Cynthia's throat closed against her angry plea. She was superfluous once again, Coraline's beck and call leaving her on the outside, always looking in, never gaining the admittance she craved. Swearing this would be the last time, she turned and headed for the car, a laugh from within her final humiliation.
Never again.
Never again would she fall for Coraline's honeyed promise.
Never again would she hope for more than she had.
She was done. Coraline was on her own.
As she slammed the car door and fumbled the key into the ignition she glanced in the mirror, seeing the truth she hated.
Never again. Not until the next time.
Author: redwinter101
Rating: PG/slash
Disclaimer: I don't own Moonlight or any of its characters
Note: A little Coraline/Cynthia - by far the slashiest couple in the Moonlight universe. Nothing explicit here so please do read and comment if the mood takes you. Written for the slash quest challenge.
***************************************************************************************************************
--- Substitute ---
November 1965
A final inspection, a twist in the glass, catching angle and curve. Cynthia fiddled with the knotted silk at her throat, cursing fumbling fingers. The simple invitation called for casual chic not the too-formal frock, the too-set curls, the too-needy smile. She tore the scarf from her throat, tears of frustration burning. Dress, jewellery, purse followed to the floor. A smeared hand scuffed a scarlet slash across her cheek.
Gulping for calm she sank to the edge of the bed, shoulders slumping. Defeat beckoned. This was an invitation-only game, Coraline's rules, orbiting players coming and going, winning and losing at her whim. The prize, her affection, her attention, her consideration. To be important to her.
The years of knowing counted for much, but Cynthia wanted, needed more than the role in which she had been cast, the confidante, the trusted ally, the safe port in any storm. As she stared at her reflection, ruffled, tear-stained, tired of the struggle to be effortless, she wondered which was worse. Knowing she was being played, or submitting anyway.
Coraline's phone call had been the invitation they both knew she wouldn't refuse, "So there I was, left waiting at the bar like some high-class hooker, while my darling husband-" She had tuned out the details of Mick's whereabouts. He was feckless and foolish; he had the world but only saw disappointment, lost in his yearning to be ordinary once more. "Can you come over? I could use the... company."
It was into that moment of pause that Cynthia poured her desire. Loneliness was the only thing Coraline truly feared and her need presented an opening, a chance. Cynthia's price, unstated but accepted, was intimacy. No longer a servant, she would be more than a friend. An opportunity at last to assume the role she craved. Disentangling Coraline's child-like longing for Mick would take time and persistence and she had plenty of both.
The realisation that Coraline needed her renewed her resolve. If they were to be equals, it started now. Back into the shower she scrubbed away her careful efforts for perfection, railing against her own eagerness to please, not to be found wanting. Starting over, she left her face unadorned, slipping on jeans and sweater, a watch her only jewellery. Finally, she could look at her reflection and smile. Safe in her own skin she could offer Coraline the comfort they both needed.
The drive was too short and too fast, anticipation bringing a flush to her cheeks. She strove for calm, assurance, resolve. "She called you," she repeated to herself as she drew near. The night was cool, a rare breeze keeping humidity at bay. Cynthia's mind wandered, planning ahead, imagining Coraline's slow smile of welcome and promise. They would both know.
The Mercedes was parked out front; Mick must have left in a hurry to have abandoned his precious car. A brief moment of temptation, hovering by the smooth bodywork, keys in hand. It would have been satisfying to leave her mark, but a greater victory lay within her grasp. A sly smile and a toss of her hair; a deep breath and a steady stride to the door.
The scent hit her as she raised her hand to knock. The heavy pungency of desire. Coraline's laugh tumbling from brittle crystal to almost-moan. Mick murmuring, his voice caressing her skin.
Her fist still raised, clenching, sweaty-palmed as she decided. Eyes screwed tight against the scene she imagined within.
A rustle of silk as Coraline made her way to the door, throwing it wide, making sure she could see. Mick, lounging naked, sated. She barely bothered to draw her robe closed as she leant against the jamb, "Cynthia, how lovely of you to stop by." Her smile hovered on the edge of a smirk. "I'm afraid I'm a little busy right now. I'm sure you understand." She moved close, pressing her lips to Cynthia's cheek, leaving her crimson mark, a brush of fingers along the soft flesh of her throat drawing a shiver.
She turned away, finished with her now-unwelcome visitor. "I'll call you."
The door closed in her face, dismissed. Rigid, hot shame burning her skin, Cynthia's throat closed against her angry plea. She was superfluous once again, Coraline's beck and call leaving her on the outside, always looking in, never gaining the admittance she craved. Swearing this would be the last time, she turned and headed for the car, a laugh from within her final humiliation.
Never again.
Never again would she fall for Coraline's honeyed promise.
Never again would she hope for more than she had.
She was done. Coraline was on her own.
As she slammed the car door and fumbled the key into the ignition she glanced in the mirror, seeing the truth she hated.
Never again. Not until the next time.