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elynross and astolat organized yuletide. I wrote a stocking stuffer for petronelle, who requested a Twelfth Night story with Viola/anyone.

Title: Summer Sang in Me
Author: voleuse
Text: Shakespeare's Twelfth Night
Pairings: Viola/Olivia, Viola/Orsino
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why, I have forgotten.
Notes: Set within the timeframe of the play



Every morning, Viola spun herself into a whirlwind, twining cloth around her torso until she could not breathe, until her heart pounded as if it would leap from her breast. Then, as if the rasp of her trousers was not enough to bring blood to her cheeks, she took the last of the cloth and wadded it just so, and set it between her legs.

She stared at herself in the mirror, and thought of bodies, and hands, and the many things she could not do with hers.

*


The lady Olivia would find ways to ensconce herself against Cesario, and only on bright and lucky days did they find themselves with audience. Often enough, however, the servants scuttled away at the lady's word, and Viola found herself with arms full of amorous attention.

"Your master," Olivia murmured, "would find your fidelity most pleasing." Her hand was firm against Viola's waist, and her mouth a quick dart from Viola's lips.

Viola felt the cold stone of the wall against her back. The sun was bright, bringing sweat to her brow, and Olivia's hand crept up, over Viola's hips, up to the edge of Viola's bindings.

In a panic, Viola lunged. She grasped Olivia's roving hands, then defrayed that quick violence by pressing her lips to Olivia's throat.

Olivia gasped, but instead of jerking away as a lady ought, she raised her chin and kissed Viola full on the mouth. She tasted of honey and bread, and when her tongue slipped against Viola's, Olivia moaned.

"Lady?" Viola asked, breathless and low. She had released Olivia's hands, found her arms circling Olivia's shoulders and waist.

Olivia fumbled, and then her hand was firm against Viola's thigh. "Cesario," she said, her palm sliding in, in--

Viola shifted, twisted so that Olivia's back was against the wall. She caught Olivia's hands again, drew her arms up, catching her wrists together, high.

And with her free hand, Viola pulled Olivia's skirts up, and up, and up. She pressed her fingers into the moist warmth she found, and she pretended she was her lord.

*


Viola wandered into Orsino's court, all bundled with guilt and want and pride.

"What ho, Cesario?" the duke called from his table. "How went the wooing of my lady?"

"Well, my lord." Viola seated herself at the table with a grin and snatched an apple from its bowl. "Though I would that you had been at my side."

"Ah." The duke reclined. "What a sight you must have been."

"Indeed," Viola replied, and tucked away another bite.


###

A/N: Title and summary adapted from Edna St Vincent Millay's What lips my lips have kissed.

Originally archived here.

Comments

( 3 comments — Leave a comment )
liminalliz
Jan. 3rd, 2008 01:06 am (UTC)
FOXY. I love it.
moodfic
Feb. 13th, 2008 04:41 pm (UTC)
Thank you so much!
(Anonymous)
Jan. 5th, 2008 12:07 am (UTC)
Shot your wad a little too soon.
Example:

She stared at herself in the mirror, and thought of bodies, and hands, and the many things she could not do with hers.

Almost, almost, almost, anti-climax.
( 3 comments — Leave a comment )

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