Drabble: 'Assignation' (Jack/OFC - PG-13)
Feb. 4th, 2010 12:38 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dwgmJack being both very good and very bad here, 200 words for the 'Pun' prompt, with thanks to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
hereswith for the quick beta this morning.
~ Assignation ~
Breeches first, then boots. Shirt… waistcoat… sash… belts… baldric… pistols… coat… finally his tricorn, hung jauntily on the lass's bedpost with such proprietary pretense only an hour before.
Footsteps. He freezes, hand to hilt, but the steps are light, and he's ready with a crooked grin as she enters, eyes wide and sparkling, cheeks still rosy, hair artfully mussed, and that elegant dressing gown, rose satin and lace, hiding her creamy curves – his fingers itch to loosen the tie 'round her trim middle.
"It's all right," she gasps, closing the door. "I told him Belle was poorly today and he's gone back out to check on her."
Belle? Ah. Her mare.
A window of opportunity. Jack purrs, "You're a diamond!" and takes her hands, held out to him with such innocent (or actually, not-so-innocent) longing. He draws her close, very close, for one last fond… fondling… embrace. One more trembling, delicious kiss.
They're both startled by the creak and slam of a door.
She flutters and pushes at him. "You must go!"
"Your servant, love," Jack agrees with a bow. That other convenient Window of Opportunity beckons and he’s out and off in a flash, scarpering through the moonlit garden.
~.~
hereswith for the quick beta this morning.~ Assignation ~
Breeches first, then boots. Shirt… waistcoat… sash… belts… baldric… pistols… coat… finally his tricorn, hung jauntily on the lass's bedpost with such proprietary pretense only an hour before.
Footsteps. He freezes, hand to hilt, but the steps are light, and he's ready with a crooked grin as she enters, eyes wide and sparkling, cheeks still rosy, hair artfully mussed, and that elegant dressing gown, rose satin and lace, hiding her creamy curves – his fingers itch to loosen the tie 'round her trim middle.
"It's all right," she gasps, closing the door. "I told him Belle was poorly today and he's gone back out to check on her."
Belle? Ah. Her mare.
A window of opportunity. Jack purrs, "You're a diamond!" and takes her hands, held out to him with such innocent (or actually, not-so-innocent) longing. He draws her close, very close, for one last fond… fondling… embrace. One more trembling, delicious kiss.
They're both startled by the creak and slam of a door.
She flutters and pushes at him. "You must go!"
"Your servant, love," Jack agrees with a bow. That other convenient Window of Opportunity beckons and he’s out and off in a flash, scarpering through the moonlit garden.
~.~