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cmk418Wrote this to fulfill prompts for 2 different challenges at ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
1_million_words - the first was for the weekend challenge prompt #41 - "so in love" and the second was for another Bingo challenge for the genre prompt "Fill-in-Fic" which has been defined as filling in something that you feel is missing or untold in canon or something to explain why characters are acting as they did. So, I wanted to see Claire & Tim's date as it happened from Claire's POV instead of just taking Tim's word for it.
Title: Compromises and Other Signs of a Mature Relationship
Pairing: Claire Howell/Tim McManus
Rating: R
Summary: Claire has met someone who likes no-strings sex as much as she does
Claire hated Valentine’s Day. Every year, it seemed like everyone around her was so in love. It was disgusting, the way they paraded around, joined at the hip as if one of them was afraid to breathe without the other one. All that talk of compromise and finally settling into a mature relationship made her want to gag. She was quite happy living the single life and getting laid whenever she felt like it.
And now, here in Oz of all places, she felt that she’d met a kindred spirit. She’d heard around the locker room that Tim McManus had been with every woman at the prison except for the nun. (And she thought he’d probably had made an attempt with the good sister.)
Make that every woman, except one.
Now that she had her sights set, it was time to move in for the kill. She stopped by his office and asked him out on a date. She didn’t pussy-foot around if she saw something (or someone) she wanted.
He was a little thrown by her direct approach, but still agreed. Evidently, he wasn’t one to refuse sex when it was on the table. First though, they’d have to go through the pretense of getting to know one another. He seemed like kind of an old-fashioned guy, so she’d humor him.
She went home, washed the stink of the prison off her body, spritzed herself with her favorite cologne, and brushed out her hair. She liked wearing it loose and the men she had been with seemed to like the way it felt as it brushed against them.
She drove herself to the little Italian place that he’d suggested. It was better to have a car at the ready, to escape a bad date or an awkward situation, or simply to just leave when the sex was over.
She met him at the restaurant. Over the course of the evening she realized something.
She really liked this guy.
How the hell did that happen? Was it all the talking that he did? The actual questions that he asked her that no one else ever had? The interest he had shown in something other than her body? And how did he get more attractive over the course of the evening?
There must have been something in the wine.
She wasn’t feeling drunk, just that pleasant buzz that came along with a glass of wine. He paid the check, which she wasn’t expecting, but he brushed it off with a “don’t worry about it.” Then he asked her to come back to his place.
She followed his car as he drove into one of the nicer sections of town. Did he bring the others back here? Or did they just find an empty cell or make use of the old conjugal rooms? Did he take some of them to shitty motels so they’d never know where he lived? Did he bring her home because he trusted her?
His house was small and definitely looked like a bachelor pad. He had her sit on the couch as he offered her a choice between coffee or something stronger.
She looked him straight in the eye and said, “Tim, I know we’re both here because we want to fuck. Why don’t we just get to it?”
He stared at her dumbly for a second and then they were kissing. Things got hot and heavy in a hurry and she soon knelt between his legs and sucked him off. He didn’t say much while it was going on. Most guys would whisper words of encouragement, tell her how good she was doing, but not Tim. He sort of awkwardly patted her head, like she was a puppy and not a woman. He wasn’t even considerate enough to give her a warning before he came, just spilled into her mouth as though he expected her to swallow.
When she got to her feet, she said, “You wanna show me your bedroom?”
Tim said, “Actually, I’m feeling pretty wiped and we both need to get up early tomorrow. Rain check?”
Rain check? Was he serious? She looked at Tim and realized that nothing more was going to happen tonight. Next time, she’d make sure she got off first. “Sure,” she said.
As she left, she thought about the evening, about how good a time she’d had before the less-than-satisfying sex. Maybe this is what her friends meant about compromise and a mature relationship. She’d give it another shot.
After all, what did she have to lose?
1_million_words - the first was for the weekend challenge prompt #41 - "so in love" and the second was for another Bingo challenge for the genre prompt "Fill-in-Fic" which has been defined as filling in something that you feel is missing or untold in canon or something to explain why characters are acting as they did. So, I wanted to see Claire & Tim's date as it happened from Claire's POV instead of just taking Tim's word for it.Title: Compromises and Other Signs of a Mature Relationship
Pairing: Claire Howell/Tim McManus
Rating: R
Summary: Claire has met someone who likes no-strings sex as much as she does
Claire hated Valentine’s Day. Every year, it seemed like everyone around her was so in love. It was disgusting, the way they paraded around, joined at the hip as if one of them was afraid to breathe without the other one. All that talk of compromise and finally settling into a mature relationship made her want to gag. She was quite happy living the single life and getting laid whenever she felt like it.
And now, here in Oz of all places, she felt that she’d met a kindred spirit. She’d heard around the locker room that Tim McManus had been with every woman at the prison except for the nun. (And she thought he’d probably had made an attempt with the good sister.)
Make that every woman, except one.
Now that she had her sights set, it was time to move in for the kill. She stopped by his office and asked him out on a date. She didn’t pussy-foot around if she saw something (or someone) she wanted.
He was a little thrown by her direct approach, but still agreed. Evidently, he wasn’t one to refuse sex when it was on the table. First though, they’d have to go through the pretense of getting to know one another. He seemed like kind of an old-fashioned guy, so she’d humor him.
She went home, washed the stink of the prison off her body, spritzed herself with her favorite cologne, and brushed out her hair. She liked wearing it loose and the men she had been with seemed to like the way it felt as it brushed against them.
She drove herself to the little Italian place that he’d suggested. It was better to have a car at the ready, to escape a bad date or an awkward situation, or simply to just leave when the sex was over.
She met him at the restaurant. Over the course of the evening she realized something.
She really liked this guy.
How the hell did that happen? Was it all the talking that he did? The actual questions that he asked her that no one else ever had? The interest he had shown in something other than her body? And how did he get more attractive over the course of the evening?
There must have been something in the wine.
She wasn’t feeling drunk, just that pleasant buzz that came along with a glass of wine. He paid the check, which she wasn’t expecting, but he brushed it off with a “don’t worry about it.” Then he asked her to come back to his place.
She followed his car as he drove into one of the nicer sections of town. Did he bring the others back here? Or did they just find an empty cell or make use of the old conjugal rooms? Did he take some of them to shitty motels so they’d never know where he lived? Did he bring her home because he trusted her?
His house was small and definitely looked like a bachelor pad. He had her sit on the couch as he offered her a choice between coffee or something stronger.
She looked him straight in the eye and said, “Tim, I know we’re both here because we want to fuck. Why don’t we just get to it?”
He stared at her dumbly for a second and then they were kissing. Things got hot and heavy in a hurry and she soon knelt between his legs and sucked him off. He didn’t say much while it was going on. Most guys would whisper words of encouragement, tell her how good she was doing, but not Tim. He sort of awkwardly patted her head, like she was a puppy and not a woman. He wasn’t even considerate enough to give her a warning before he came, just spilled into her mouth as though he expected her to swallow.
When she got to her feet, she said, “You wanna show me your bedroom?”
Tim said, “Actually, I’m feeling pretty wiped and we both need to get up early tomorrow. Rain check?”
Rain check? Was he serious? She looked at Tim and realized that nothing more was going to happen tonight. Next time, she’d make sure she got off first. “Sure,” she said.
As she left, she thought about the evening, about how good a time she’d had before the less-than-satisfying sex. Maybe this is what her friends meant about compromise and a mature relationship. She’d give it another shot.
After all, what did she have to lose?
