Three More Things: How Three People Found Out About Olivia and Natalia

How Three People Found Out About Olivia and Natalia

Fewthistle

Olivia/Natalia

Words: 4,003 (Not sure how the hell this got so long, but it kind of got away from me. Hopefully in a good way.)

Rating: NC-17, I should think. Yes, Virginia, there is sex.
Disclaimer: Sadly, so very sadly, the characters contained herein are not mine. The universe has never been that kind to me.

A/N: I figured after the last set with Ava, I owe you all some comic relief. And a little sex. Okay, a lot of sex. Sorta spoofy fluff.

My thanks to the lovely and talented, DiNovia, who patiently beta-ed this and even more patiently talked me through my “I don’t write sex” anxiety. You’re the best, sweetie!!

This was a prompt from Ralst for the “Three Things” meme I requested. I took a few liberties with the formatting. There are three people who found out, and there are three sections, (well, three and a half, but that’s neither here nor there), but none of it is quite the way you imagine. Hopefully, it works anyway. If not, at least there’s sex, as the Olivia that lives in my head is quick to point out.

For the Queen of All Things Femslash, my dearest Ralst. See you in October, chickie!

 

Reva was tired. Bone tired. Having a child at---well, at a more advanced age---was harder than it looked. Colin hadn’t slept for more than two hours at a time for a week now and the strain of being up all night with her son and trying to function during the day was starting to take its toll.

And now here she was at nearly midnight, out hunting for her other son. She had been calling Shayne’s cell for hours with no luck. Finally, she’d plopped Colin down in Jeffrey’s lap and headed out for Dinah’s room at the Beacon. Even though Shayne wasn’t there, she’d been able to wheedle some information out of Dinah. Getting information was a special talent of Reva’s.

As she waited for the elevator to arrive at the floor, she heard the sound of the door to Dinah’s suite opening and her son’s girlfriend slipped out, her coat trailing behind her on the plush carpet of the hallway.

“Oh, Reva. I thought you’d be gone by now,” Dinah murmured, clearly surprised to see the older woman still there. She’d waited for what she had hoped was long enough to avoid seeing Reva again. So much for that. Damn. Shayne was going to owe her big for this. Big. Time.

“Yeah, I can see that. I thought you told me you didn’t know where Shayne was?” Reva answered caustically, none to pleased at having been successfully lied to by anyone, much less Dinah.

“I don’t. Honest. I just thought of some work I need to finish up at the office,” Dinah assured her.

“Really? That’s what you’re going with? Work at the office? At midnight on a Thursday? Come off it, Dinah. I expected more from you than that,” Reva huffed, not sure if she was more insulted by the fact of the lie or the feebleness of it.

Dinah’s reply was cut off by the arrival of Alan Spaulding, millionaire and all around jackass, at least in Reva’s opinion.

Great, Reva thought, my lying almost daughter-in-law and His Royal Pomposity. This night just keeps getting better and better. 

Alan was also, coincidentally, in search of a son, although not for the loving, altruistic reasons that had sent Reva out in the middle of the night searching for Shayne. Alan’s reasons were, as was so often the case, more along the lines of vengeance, manipulation and general skullduggery.

However, like Reva, he hadn’t managed to locate his wayward offspring, Philip, and his mood was less than pleasant. As if that was an unusual occurrence. His curt nod in the direction of both women was his sole acknowledgement of their existence. He had been hoping to avoid being seen. Ah, well. At least it wasn’t anyone who mattered.

“Alan,” Dinah nodded back, wondering what dirty dealings had brought Springfield’s own answer to the Anti-Christ out so late on a weeknight. “Past your bedtime, isn’t it?”

“True, unlike you circus folk, we normal citizens do tend to keep more regular hours,” Alan rejoined, his smirk reminding Dinah of the Joker, without the pretty red lipstick.

“Let me guess: some midnight Satanic ritual, right? What’s a matter, forget your cloak and hood?” Reva wasn’t sure why she felt compelled to join in, but hey, it was late, her feet were swollen, her back hurt and besides, maybe getting a few digs at Alan might pass the time until the damn elevator came. The damn slow elevator.

“And what brings you out so late at night, Reva? Don’t tell me the blush has worn off the rose with the esteemed Mr. O’Neill so soon? Is Olivia renting rooms by the hour now?” The malicious gleam returned to Alan’s eyes as he smiled pleasantly at Reva.

“Ah, Alan, you’re just jealous that I never wore the blush off your rose, aren’t you?” The gleam in Reva’s blue eyes matched Alan’s.

“That’s right, Alan. Your rose is pretty lonely these days, from what I heard,” Dinah chimed in, payback to Reva for her earlier rescue.

Whatever response Alan might have offered was interrupted by the sound of the bell dinging, signaling the arrival of the elevator. Well, that and the sight that met three shocked pairs of eyes as the doors slid silently open.

 

2. Olivia and Natalia and the Joys of Elevator Sex…..yes, that elevator

Natalia would have been fine if Olivia hadn’t insisted on wearing that obscenely low-cut dress. At least she kept telling herself that all evening. An evening spent watching her boss/girlfriend/lover/obsession laugh, chat, and flirt with just about every man, woman and potted plant in the entire Beacon ballroom. All while wearing that dress. That dress that Olivia knew drove her crazy.

Which was why she wore it. It didn’t help that every time Olivia saw her look her way she smiled that knowing grin of hers, the one that Natalia had grown infuriatingly familiar with, the one that said, “I know you want to fuck me right here, don’t you, baby?”

It was all Natalia could do to not walk over to Olivia, push her up against the wall and prove to her just how accurate that sentiment was. Instead, she checked how the wine was holding out and if they had enough canapés.

Still, images of Olivia, head thrown back, breath coming in gasps punctuated here and there with pleas for mercy plastered themselves across her irises and refused to be erased, even by the annoying figure of Greg, the banquet manager, telling her they were out of Chardonnay.

It was going to be a damn long night. The fact that every single time Olivia came within two feet of her, she managed to touch some part of Natalia’s body had the brunette on the verge of a nervous breakdown. A sexually frustrated nervous breakdown.

By eleven the ballroom was thinning out, and finally, at nearly midnight, Olivia motioned with a tilt of her head toward the exit, that “fuck me” smile still firmly in place. Natalia, who had spent the better part of the last two hours fantasizing about doing just that, waited exactly two minutes and then made a beeline for the elevators. She found Olivia casually leaning against the wall, her finger poised over the call button.

“Going up, Ms Rivera?” She smirked, her green eyed gaze never leaving Natalia’s lips.

Natalia stepped closer until she stood well within Olivia’s personal space, the warmth radiating off that sultry body in that amazing dress pulling her forward like a sunflower to that glorious disk of gold.

“You really wanted to ask if I was going down, didn’t you?” Natalia smirked back, the hours of arousal stripping away her reserve, her voice low and husky and pitched for Olivia’s ears alone.

“I did,” Olivia admitted with a sexy chuckle, her head tilting to the side. “So, are you?”

Before Natalia could reply, the elevator doors slid open, revealing a blessedly empty car. Reaching out, Natalia snagged Olivia’s arm and pulled her inside, spinning her around just as the doors closed. She let the elevator start its ascent before reaching over and, watching Olivia’s face, pushing the “Stop” button on the gleaming chrome panel. Time to ease a little of the arousal she’d been suffering for what felt like days.

“Natalia, what’re you…,” Olivia began, her breath leaving her in a gasp as the brunette pushed her roughly up against the side wall.

“Shhh. No talking,” Natalia ordered, her eyes almost black in the muted light of the elevator.

Natalia grabbed both of the blonde’s arms, dragging them up to pin them on either side of her head. Her mouth descended hungrily on Olivia’s in a long, tantalizingly slow kiss. Her tongue teased along Olivia’s bottom lip before catching it none too gently between straight white teeth. Olivia’s answering moan sent a rush of wet heat to Natalia’s already soaked panties.

“You’ve been torturing me all night,” she murmured, her mouth tracing a line down the graceful arc of Olivia’s throat, one moment the barest brush of her lips along smooth skin, the next teeth nipping roughly, a rhythmic Morse code of desire.

“Me? You’re the one who’s been looking at me with those damned bedroom eyes and those…those dimples,” Olivia breathed, her eyes closed, her head thrown back to allow Natalia better access to her neck.

“Dimples? What do my dimples have to do with anything?” Natalia demanded, her lips following the line that lead from Olivia’s throat to the promised land between those magnificent breasts. Releasing Olivia’s arms, Natalia ran her fingertips along the silken skin of Olivia’s shoulders, tracing along the edge of the fabric that barely covered her breasts.

“They’re dimples,” Olivia gasped, apparently feeling the answer sufficient, as Natalia pushed aside the fabric of her dress, grateful that the neckline and back didn’t allow for a bra, and took one rock-hard nipple between her lips. She tugged it into the warm wetness of her mouth, her tongue swirling around it with the grace and swiftness of a Flamenco dancer, teaching Olivia’s body its own, secret dance.

Natalia only chuckled, knowing that Olivia had lost interest in conversation, knowing that the one thing the other woman wanted from her mouth, she was already providing. Reaching up, she slipped the thin straps off Olivia’s shoulders, tugging down on the material of the dress until the front was bunched around Olivia’s waist, allowing Natalia access to both nipples at once, something which Olivia clearly approved of, if the strangled whimper that escaped her lips was any indication.

A stray thought staggered across Natalia’s brain, drunkenly whispering that sex in the elevator probably wasn’t the best of ideas, but Natalia seldom heeded drunken whispers and besides, the ache between her legs was much more coherent and definitely not whispering.

She needed to fuck Olivia and she needed to do it now. Right now. And if right now involved an elevator, so be it.

Sliding her hand up under the hem of Olivia’s dress, Natalia trailed her fingers up the satiny line of Olivia’s thigh, knowing that Olivia hadn’t wanted to ruin such a fabulous dress with something so tacky as panty-lines. She smiled against the nipple held gently between her teeth as her fingers slid into a wealth of liquid silk. Olivia’s hand tangled roughly in her hair as Natalia’s fingers unerringly found the source of the wetness, like the faithful to the wells of St. Brigid, pausing briefly in silent wonder before slipping three fingers inside.

It still amazed Natalia, in that first instant that she felt the velvety walls enclose her fingers, that part of her was inside the woman she loved. That they were connected, that they fit like puzzle pieces, snug and tight and whole. Sometimes she would catch herself holding her hand out in front of her and marveling that such an average, mundane part of her was capable of such perfection.

The tightening of Olivia’s fingers in her hair brought her back to the task at hand. Literally. She began to move her fingers in a gentle, steady rhythm, the heel of her hand pressed tightly against Olivia’s clit as she thrust in and out, Olivia’s hips beginning a counter motion, all thought abandoned to sensation as her body found a cadence as old as time itself.

“Oh, God. Natalia. Fuck,” Olivia’s voice echoed against the thick wooden walls, a silver thread of satisfaction working its way along Natalia’s spine.

Natalia straightened, trailing her lips back up the line of Olivia’s slender neck, her mouth finding the tender spot just below her ear, the one that caused that sound, that soft, high sound in the back of Olivia’s throat that sent another flood of moisture between Natalia’s thighs. She bit down lightly, her fingers increasing their speed, the heel of her hand pressing harder against Olivia’s clit.

One thigh slipped between Olivia’s legs as her own hips began to move, joining the dance, swaying their bodies together, the only sound in the small space their labored breathing and the slick sound of Natalia’s fingers as they moved in and out, waves crashing against the rocks.

Natalia could feel Olivia’s body tightening around her, those slick walls embracing her fingers, holding them fast within her as Olivia tumbled toward the edge, her hips beginning to move erratically as she moved closer and closer, drawing Natalia’s fingers deeper and deeper inside her. Natalia drew her head back, wanting to watch as the sensations over took Olivia, needing to see as Olivia came apart like a tulip in a Spring storm, petals scattered all about on the ground.

“Natalia….yes. Fuck. Fuck…Damn.”

“Natalia?” Olivia forced her eyes open, trying to focus on the woman regarding her with a particularly smug expression.

“Yes, Olivia?” Natalia tried not to smirk, but failed. How anyone could not feel immensely smug about reducing Olivia “Freakin’” Spencer to a tower of jelly was beyond her.

“Umm, I think the elevator’s moving,” Olivia said slowly, eyes fixed on the steady succession of numbers lighting up as the elevator began its climb.

For a second, Natalia knew how a possum felt as those twin points of white light came hurtling towards it along an empty stretch of asphalt. She had just slipped her hand from between Olivia’s now slick thighs and was helping the older woman to pull up the front of her dress when the bell sounded.

The chime of doom.


 

2 and ½. How Ed, the Maintenance Guy, Got Fired

In the semi-darkness of the Beacon’s basement, a phone rang. And rang. And rang. Finally, the night maintenance man, a large, rather ungainly fellow named Ed, who, sadly, was unaware that his employment at the hotel would soon be coming to an abrupt halt, answered the incessantly jangling phone.

After listening intently, Ed moved off towards the controls for the elevator. An elevator that had mysteriously gotten stuck between the first and second floors. Ed flipped a switch, flipped it back, listened as the wheels and cranks and pulleys began to whirr, and then, with a satisfied grin, went back to his chair and a re-run of M*A*S*H*.

3. What Reva and Dinah and Alan Saw: Or Showtime at the Beacon

“Fuck.”

Natalia couldn’t help but note how different Olivia’s inflection was from just a few moments ago. That had been, “yes, baby, fuck me”. This was just plain, old “fuck”. As in screwed. Royally.

They’d managed to get Olivia’s dress up before the doors completely opened. Mostly. One strap was still hanging somewhat listlessly along her upper arm. There was also a pronounced hickey along the left side of her neck where Natalia had sucked a little too hard. And of course there was the matter of her hair, thoroughly mussed and disheveled from the rake of Olivia’s fingers through it.

And the fact that there was no disguising the freshly fucked look on Olivia’s face, one that not even shock and irritation and dismay could erase.

Oh, and the whole elevator fairly reeked of sex.

Yeah, fuck pretty much covered it.

“Jesus Christ, Olivia. You own the friggin’ hotel. You two couldn’t find a room? Any room? You’ve got a damn passkey. What are you two, eighteen?” Reva asked, snarky instincts kicking in after the first, initial shock of seeing Olivia Spencer, dress askew, looking extremely well-fucked and by Natalia Rivera of all people.

“Gee, Reva, did they even have elevators when you were eighteen? And you’re right. I do own the hotel. Which means if I want to have sex in my own freakin’ elevator, I can. You want a sex-free elevator, go buy your own damn hotel. In the meantime, what the hell are you doing in mine at midnight? Needed to make a little extra cash?” Olivia retorted, her own snarky impulses making themselves known.

“Sex-free elevator? What Ollie, is that like a non-smoking room? You have to request it when you make your reservation?” Dinah chimed in, her own shock at seeing her former sister-in-law and sometime friend in a compromising position with another woman way outweighed by the hilarity of the situation. Besides, she owed Olivia a few digs. Tomato juice, indeed.

“Thanks, Di, I know I can always count on you to have my back,” Olivia muttered sarcastically, her eyes narrowing as she gazed at Dinah.

“Oh, please, Olivia. Anyway, it looks like Natalia has your back. And your front. And just about every place else,” Dinah smirked, enjoying the sensation of having Olivia Spencer off balance. It didn’t happen often. One should enjoy it while it lasted.

Olivia decided it was time to take control of this little debacle, before it got out of hand. Well, any more out of hand.

“Alright, Alan. Give it your best shot,” she challenged, crossing her arms and jutting out her chin as she waited for the semi-lucid rant she knew was coming.

Alan hadn’t spoken since the doors slid open. In fact, he hadn’t even moved. He’d been standing at just the right angle as the interior of the elevator was revealed to see the magnificence of Olivia’s bare chest before her dress was yanked up, to see the expanse of creamy skin he remembered sometimes in his dreams. To see Natalia’s hands ghosting across that skin, her own skin tan against Olivia’s, against the black of the dress.

“Alan? Hey, Alan. Come on. We know you have something to say. The whole “lesbian” thing? You can do it, Alan. Say it with me. Lesbian,” Olivia prodded, feeling Natalia’s body tense beside her. Reva and Dinah were one thing. Alan, on the other hand. Alan could cause trouble.

“I don’t believe this is the time, place, or the company in which to discuss this, Olivia,” Alan finally managed to reply, his voice distant, his eyes strangely glazed over, Olivia noticed.

Before Olivia could respond, Reva’s slightly grating voice interrupted.

“What the hell do ya mean, the company?” This last came out in a surprisingly good imitation of Alan’s pompous tones. “Get off your damn high horse, Alan. For God’s sake, Olivia’s been married to my ex-husband, my current husband, and my nephew, who just happens to be blondie here’s brother. Who also happened to share a house with Little Miss Olivia “Have Sex in My Own Freakin’ Elevator” Spencer. We’ve all been wallowing around in the same mud pool for years now, Alan, so don’t start with that “proper company” crap.”

“You know, I don’t remember asking for your input in this, Reva! So why don’t you just take whatever cash you picked up off the dresser and get the hell out of my hotel,” Olivia told her acerbically, her eyes narrowed to slits of green.

Natalia stood to the side, releasing a sigh of exasperation as the situation rapidly deteriorated. She could see the flush on Olivia’s cheeks that no longer had anything to do with their earlier activities, and she recognized that gleam in those green eyes. Not good. Not good at all. And what the hell was with Alan? She’d expected something a little more outraged than that measured response.

“ Hey, Ollie, lay off Reva,” Dinah said, part of her registering shock at coming to the other woman’s defense, but she was sleeping with her son. That got some kind of loyalty, right? “She came over here looking for Shayne, like a concerned mother would. Speaking of which, do you know where your kid is?”

“You really wanna go there with me, Dinah? Do you? I know exactly where my kid is. Emma’s at a sleep over, not that it’s any of your fucking business,” Olivia’s voice was rising, as she took a step closer to Dinah. “So back off.”

“Don’t tell her to back off! If you hadn’t been cavorting with your latest conquest there in the friggin’ elevator, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation. Speaking of which, what’s a matter, Olivia, meet your quota in the male column for “Sluts Are Us”, so now you’ve had to move over to women?” Reva jumped in, not really caring about defending Dinah but unable to resist a few more digs at her one-time nemesis.

“Too bad there isn’t a quota for being a fucking bitch, cause you’d win hands down, lady…” Olivia began, turning her fury on Reva, only to be interrupted again, this time by a voice with which she was all too familiar.

“STOP IT!” Natalia whispered loudly, moving quickly between Olivia and the two other women. “You, quiet!” She ordered, pointing her finger at her clearly enraged lover. “One, people are trying to sleep in these rooms in your hotel, Olivia.

“Two, yes, Olivia and I were having sex in the elevator. In fact, we’re having sex, period. We’ve had sex in the elevator, in the suite down the hall, in several rooms in the farmhouse, even once in the car, and no doubt we will find other places to have sex. We’re in love and last time I checked, that’s what people do.

“And if you, or you, or you, Alan,” she stated emphatically, her finger now pointing at each one in succession, “have a problem with that, then you’d better just get over it right now, because it isn’t going to change.” Natalia’s expression was one Olivia had seen on more than one occasion, one that brooked no arguments. “And Alan? If you even think of trying to take Emma away from us, I might just borrow Olivia’s gun and take a couple shots at you myself.”

With that, Natalia turned and headed down the hall toward Olivia’s suite.

“Um, Natalia? Where ya going?” Olivia asked, not sure if she wanted an answer or not.

Natalia turned and gave her a calculated look.

“I’m going to your room where I plan on taking off my clothes, and getting in bed. Feel free to join me, if you can manage to tear yourself away from this scintillating conversation,” she tossed back, already swiveling to leave as the last words left her lips.

Reva couldn’t help it the smirk that plastered itself on her face as images of the fiery Latina lying naked in Olivia Spencer’s bed rushed unbidden through her mind. Hell, five years ago, she might have given Olivia a run for her money for that one. Now, she was too damn tired. Pity, really.

Apparently the same thoughts had raced through Dinah’s mind as well.

“You know, Ollie, if you’re not going to take her up on that offer, why don’t you give me your key?” Dinah teased, laughing at the look of fierce jealousy that swept across Olivia’s features.

With a glare that could have started a large brush fire, Olivia turned and, trying to maintain a modicum of dignity, walked casually down the hall. She lost a few points as she sprinted the last few feet, but all in all, not a bad performance, Dinah thought, as Olivia disappeared into her room.

“Wouldn’t mind being a fly on the wall in there tonight, would you?” Dinah laughed again, turning to see an answering grin on Reva’s face. And a look of slack-jawed disbelief on Alan’s as he stood still as a statue. She laughed harder.

Pushing the elevator button again, which blessedly opened almost immediately, Reva glanced over at the still silent Alan Spaulding as she and Dinah stepped into the car.

Gazing downward at a now rather prominent part of Alan’s body, Reva advised, barely able to contain her amusement, “Yo, Tin Man, if you’re planning on wandering around like that, you might want to invest in a raincoat. Don’t want to scare the kiddies. You getting in?”

“No, thank you. I believe I’ll take the stairs,” Alan murmured, wondering for the hundredth time since the elevator doors had first opened, why the hell he hadn’t just stayed home. And if the local cable channel carried lesbian porn.