An Unexpected Mrs Claus

by NavalCat

Summary:

Christmas is approaching and as such the deadline for the Christmas issue of Runway. A colour related error forces Andy to stay in the office later than usual for the book making her late delivering it. She walks in on something she never expected.

Chapter 1: Santa Claus vs St Nick

Summary:

Andy is running late and she knows that means trouble, but there is nothing she can do about that. What greets her at Miranda's however, she would never have expected.

Notes:

Greetings.

The Christmas DWP fic that no one asked for but once the idea came to me, had to be written.

Just to clarify some of the tags. In this fic, Andy has been working for Miranda for years, they have survived Paris AND Stephen didn't serve Miranda divorce papers while they were there.

Also I will openly admit to this being shameless smut with a fringe of feelings, very little in regards to plot. So buckle in.

Obviously, this is a fan fic and I do not have any claim to the world and characters created by Laura Weisberger.

Enjoy :)

Andy has always loved Christmas, to her it was an all-round magical time of year and there was no better place for it than NYC. It was one of the many reasons she didn’t regret the decision to move here. Despite how things had turned out with Nate, who was now long gone. Despite Lily having gone with him, quite a turn up for the books at the time and had resulted in her losing not just her boyfriend, but her best friend in the process (thank god for Doug). Despite the tiny living space that she could barely afford to rent, complete with even more tiny house guest that was well behind on his rent, though in fairness to Maurice she did understand that earning money must be even harder for a mouse than for a human, even in a place as capitalist as New York.

Though all of that was so easy to push to the back of her mind as she nearly skates through snow into the Limo waiting for her at the curb, aiming a, “Hi Roy,” towards the driver’s seat, “god its pretty but dodgy on the ankles,” as she throws herself into the back seat.

“Those heels won’t help,” he chuckles back, flicking his indicator and pulling into traffic.

“Look Roy, these heels may be killer on the ankles, but not wearing them would result in Miranda going killer on much more of me and I choose life.”

He lets out a full, throaty laugh at that as Andy settles back into the comfort of leather seats and takes in the glittering Christmas lights that only get more and more elaborate and tasteful the closer they get to their destination.

She is late, she knows that and she also knows that Miranda doesn’t accept lateness, but then there isn’t enough paper on earth to list all the things her Boss (with a capital B) doesn’t accept. It is her fault anyway, not that there would be any benefit to pointing that out and Andy certainly doesn’t intend to, but she was the one that had decided that the shade of red used on cover mock-up had been too Santa Claus, gauche, and not St Nicholas enough and therefore lacked sophistication. Of course, the colour had been used throughout the entire Christmas issue and despite the fact that all the clackers had nodded their heads in Miranda’s comments on the particular hue, once she had sauntered out, they had descended into chaos. Turned out they were just as capable of telling Santa Claus red from St Nicholas red as Andy was. They had settled on a slightly deeper shade, a touch more purple in the mix giving it a more rounded, richer sense and Andy hopes, to the eponymous jolly fellow, all his reindeers and everything that he stands for, that had been what Miranda had been looking for, no doubt she will be able to tell from the narrowing of her eyes or the twitch of her mouth either way as soon as she looks upon the book. There is nothing she could do about it at this point though and therefore, she might as well enjoy as much of the festive season as she can soak in through the tinted windows of Miranda’s company car.

Signs of festivity glisten at her wherever she looks. The pavements are a persistent snowy white despite the trundling feet of New Yorkers preparing for the Yuletide or simply going about their daily business. Frosted windows allowing a glimpse into the shops filled with decorations and shoppers or homes filled with tinsel and baubles. The sound of cheery greetings, as people weave in and out of their paths with overly large and colourful bags of green, red and gold. The joy on children’s faces as they skip beside their parents and peer into those very windows, eyes full of awe and wonder. The further they go from the Elias Clarke building and into residential Manhattan the more the crowd thins, but the joy doesn’t dissipate just shifts to something more personal and less commercial. Trees stand proudly lit up in front of some townhouses, cables trail in through windows adorned with massive artistic attempts at snowflakes on the panes. Snowmen made by families perch on the steps to their homes, slightly soggy and lumpy scarves and hats, which would never be seen in the pages of Runway, tied round necks and stuffed on heads. A few have gone all out and twinkling bulbs flash various colours lined doorways, ironwork and window ledges. Some have reindeer on the roofs, which Andy can only see if she cranes her neck at an awkward angle, but she does all the same knowing that they make her smile. One only a couple of properties down from the Priestly townhouse has an inflatable Santa.

“Bet Miranda hates that,” laughs Andy.

“If the scoff she gave out the day it appeared is anything to go by, then yes, Miranda hates it,” confirms Roy good-naturedly. Andy has often wondered how Roy has put up with Miranda for so long, he is one her longest standing employees, Nigel being the only one that has outlived him, but she knows that the driver has a soft spot for her Boss and is utterly loyal to her. He is however, not blind, deaf or dumb and knows exactly what she is like.

“I’m surprised I haven’t been instructed to write to the neighbourhood committee or city planning to have them take it down.”

“You sure you got through your full list of tasks for the day?” he jokes back, glancing at Andy in the rearview mirror and winking.

“Yes I did, thank you very much, I’m already late, I wasn’t going to add to the pain by also not completing all her instructions.”

He pulls into the side of the road, “There you go, do you need me to wait for you?”

The snow is falling gently, but it has been all day and Andy knows Roy has a family no doubt waiting for him to have dinner, a dinner that is already later than it should have been because of the red debacle, “no it’s ok Roy, tell Kate I’m sorry for keeping you for so long.”

“She understands Andy.”

The woman deserves a medal, heaven knows how many of Roy’s meals she has reheated for him during all of his years in service. It is something she would never have expected of Nate, not that it had been offered, but Kate seems to want to do it for Roy and there is something lovely about that even if it doesn’t sit well with Andy’s feminist ideals.

“Merry Christmas,” Andy wishes him grabbing the dry cleaning, book and her own bag as she springs from the car. It doesn’t matter that she will see him tomorrow and the day after, this time of year is engrained into Andy and she fully intends to wish everyone a good Christmas until the day has passed.  

“Good luck in there,” he bids her out of the window before it winds up and her pulls off again.

Andy hurries, as much as she can across the snow and up the steps, fumbling the keys with all the bags and eventually finding the lock. Dry cleaning is the first to be dealt with, hung in hallway cupboard. Usually she would just place the book on the table in the hall and leave without saying a word, but that would have been if she had been here on time. She isn’t, also because she had been in the office so late she had been there to take the call from Igor’s assistant and he is no longer able to see Miranda first thing. Of course, Andy has rearranged her morning, shifting Givenchy back to 10 and moving James Holt forward to 8.45 but it means that she needs to let Miranda know that Roy will be taking her directly there first thing and not across town as expected.

She takes a deep breath in preparation for venturing further into the house. It isn’t like this is the first time, no there have been a number of others since that fateful day the twins had tricked her into stepping out of line, but none of the previous occasions have been positive interactions. The twins aren’t home today, Andy knows because she saw in Miranda’s calendar that the are staying with friends overnight this evening. She had thought it odd at the time, what with it being a week night, but its wasn’t like she could ask. No one questions Miranda if they intend on keeping their job.

Clutching the book to her chest she heads in the direction of the den. She is guessing but that is usually where Miranda would be this time of night under usual circumstances.

The sight that meets her though the open door is not one she ever thought she would see. Or certainly not outwith her dreams, dreams that she has tried her very best to dismiss, but even then, they would have paled into insignificance when faced with the real thing.

Andy is right.

Miranda is in the den.

Miranda is also dressed as Mrs Claus.

Notes:

Feeling Christmassy?

Let me know what you think. Have been contemplating doing a Mirandy fic for a while and this is the first I have attempted.

Next chapter to be uploaded by the 16th :)

Chapter 2: Who Cares About Santa?!

Summary:

Andy finds it hard to confront what she has seen and Miranda has had a VERY bad day, but it might be about to get better.

Notes:

More festive fun? Yeah I thought so. I spent the day wrapping presents and watching seasonally appropriate films so I am feeling Christmassy :)

The outfit is exactly as you would imagine. A deep red, trimmed with fluffy white at the neckline and hem, cinched at the waist with another band of snow white. St Nicholas red, Andy presumes, as it is somehow less cheap looking than these things are usually look. Or maybe it’s the woman within the garment that is elevating the outfit.

Miranda’s thighs are more toned than she dared imagine, plain but very high black stilettos accentuate her calves, though Andy is familiar with the shape of her calves. More familiar than she ever should be as Miranda’s assistant and less familiar than she would like to be if she is honest with herself. What draws her to her thighs, however, are the thigh-high stockings and suspenders that disappear under the sinfully short, flared skirt. Andy swallows hard and wills her gaze to heighten, the only issue with that is what else she is taking in as her eyes strive for more appropriate viewing. Collarbones have always been a point of fascination for Andy, particularly on women and though she has glimpsed Miranda’s through the splay of her shirt on occasion, she has never seen her in something strapless and sleeveless and the effect is breath-taking. Andy wants to trail the line with her nose and lick into the dip of her suprasternal notch, then up her neck and into her mouth. Taste the red of her lips, perfectly matched to the fabric of her dress, and the curl of her tongue. Wants to run her hands through the iconic white hair, finally know the feel of her under her palms and though her fingers, muss it beyond recognition.

She closes her jaw and tries to pick up the thoughts that have fallen from her head. An apology first, she has clearly walked into something not intended for her, “Sorry, I-, um-, I-,”

“Must you dither Andrea?”

“I-, no,” still dithering, clears her throat, “Sorry, the book is late-,”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“-so I thought I best bring it straight to you.”

She extends an arm where she stands next to the lit fire place, one hand reaching out for her to hand it over, “Well give it to me then,” the other’s fingertips loosely holding the rim of a tumbler containing a rich amber liquid that Andy thinks is likely scotch if the bottle on the mantle is any indication.

It is only then that Andy realises she has been stood in the doorway like some sort of gaping lemon, she rushes forward, nearly tripping over her feet in the process. “What is the excuse today? Not that it matters.”

“They had to rework the colour scheme in light of your comments at the run-through.”

“So they had used that garish colour throughout then, typical, some of my employees have no taste,” she says taking the proffered book, plucking some glasses from the side table and sitting on her preferred sofa as if she does this every night looking like the world’s best stocking filler. Thus far she has not commented on the manner in which Andy has found her, something so odd that Andy wonders for a second if she has projected the garment onto her Boss, maybe having inhaled too many ground-up candy canes or something.

Andy knows she should leave rather than sway in the space between the door and Miranda, but there is something stopping her and it isn’t just the way she can’t keep her eyes off the vision in front of her, she just can’t remember what it is.

Miranda glances up over the top of her glasses and observes her assistant. For Andy feels like forever and she is sure she is melting under her Boss’ heated glare, but she waits all the same for her judgement as no doubt it is forthcoming.

“Will you stop looking at me like that?”

Andy doesn’t know what she means, doesn’t think there is any other way she could look at her right now, only knows that if she closes her eyes that she would no longer be able to see and there is no way she is doing that when there is such a feast for them right in front of her. “Like what?”

“Like you could eat me.”

Andy is so shocked she does the cardinal sin and asks Miranda a question, “Why are you dressed like that?”

Miranda sighs deeply as if the answer is thoroughly boring, “I would have thought that entirely obvious.” It isn’t obvious to Andy, maybe because her blood has been diverted from her brain so somewhere significantly further south if the ache between her thighs is anything to go by, but then Miranda clarifies, “For seductive purposes.”

“Seductive purposes,” she repeats stupidly.

“Yes Andrea, do keep up.”

“For me?!” More stupidity pours from her, squeaky and a little desperate.

“No, for my husband,” Miranda huffs and returns her gaze to the book, “things have been stilted recently and in a last-ditch effort I resorted to trying something recommended in one of those god-awful glossy publications.”

“It’s bound to work,” says Andy. There is no way any person with eyes would be capable of walking away from that, she is living proof of it right now, still frozen in time and space.

“The divorce papers suggest otherwise,” Miranda answers cuttingly not even raising her head from the book, “as if dressing like some bawdy elf wasn’t humiliating enough but to have your husband take one look at you, laugh and then still hand you divorce papers, well…”

It is only then that the fog lifts enough from Andy’s head that she notices, notices all those little tells that she has trained herself to pick up in her Boss. Call it survival instinct.

Miranda is deeply unhappy. So unhappy that, now that Andy thinks about it, she hasn’t been berated for being late and she is talking, giving information when simple answers would have sufficed and Miranda doesn’t give anyway anything, ever.

“He must be insane.”

“He and the previous?” asks Miranda, presumably referring to her first husband and father of her children, an eyebrow lifting in disbelief and challenge.

“God yes,” Andy breathes, “I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off you if you presented yourself to me like that.”

Presented yourself to me, full stop, Andy thinks, if Miranda was even simply willing Andy would worship her. It is so wrong and Andy knows that, an assistant lusting over her high-powered boss, has tried not to feel that way, but there are some things even the strongest wills can’t control.

“Is that true Andrea?” her words are so soft they wash over Andy, but they hold a tentative warning to them as well.

“Yes.”

Miranda pushes the book aside, takes her glasses off and discards them on top of it, rises from her seat and strides towards Andy, “Really?” she purrs.

“Oh god, please don’t call my bluff,” Andy blurts out and all confidence seems to drain from the woman in front of her. A flicker of hurt crosses her features and Andy wishes she had found better words for what she meant.

“I don’t appreciate being lied to Andrea and I never thought you would be one of the many to do it to me.”

“No Miranda, I don’t want you to call my bluff because I won’t be able to stop myself from-, if you-, well, I won’t be able to stop myself,” for someone who aspires to be a writer, she is making a mess of this.

“Then what is stopping you?”

“You Miranda.”

“Me?” she sounds almost incredulous and Andy can’t help but let her eyes travel the length of her again, lingering on cleavage she longs to trace with her tongue.

“Yes, I don’t know what you want.”

“What I want?”

“Yes.”

“Why is that important?”

“Miranda, it is the most important thing to me,” says Andy meaning every word.

Something shifts within Miranda and Andy swears that her icy blue eyes somehow soften and her gaze is warmer for it. “Surely what I want is clear?”

“Not clear enough considering our positions.”

“You being my assistant? Because I can assure you that if anything our professional relationship makes you less attractive to me.”

It is a backhanded compliment, but what Andy hears is that on some level Miranda finds her attractive and her heart sings for it. “What do you want Miranda? I don’t want to take anything you are not willing to give.”

“Must you make me say it?” Miranda’s tone is pleading and Andy has never heard it ever even approach pleading before. Andy wants to take her in her arms and tell her it will be ok, that she will look after her, but she cannot step over that line unless she is certain it is wanted.

“I must.”

“Is this so you can build a case for workplace sexual harassment?” asks Miranda a much more familiar tint of venom to her voice.

“No Miranda, it is because I need to know, I need to be sure, because my heart won’t take it…”

“You, you silly girl, I want you,” her eyes lift to the ceiling, “I shouldn’t but mercy I do,” as if she is asking for forgiveness.

Andy holds herself back from giving into her want, she just needs to know one more thing, “What about Stephen?”

“What about him?! He has left me.”

“But you were trying to patch things up?”

“For the girls, I’d do anything for the girls and I didn’t want them to have to live through another divorce and the nastiness that comes with it. I didn’t want that for them, but my heart left that union long ago.”

That is all Andy needs to hear, and she cannot stand to leave Miranda in this limbo any longer. She steps back and makes a show of look the older woman up and down. Bites her lip as she does, takes in the outfit in all its glory and mutters a silent thank you to the stars for having brought her to this moment, “God Miranda you look edible.”

“You look hungry.”

“I am,” Andy admits, playing along happily, “starving.”

“So the outfit does work then?” asks Miranda sceptically.

“Does for me,” Andie takes a step forward and relishes the fact that Miranda’s breath hitches, “but not as much as the woman in it.” She is close enough to note the gentle blush that graces her Boss’ cheeks and creeps down her chest. Miranda’s sexual partners have obviously not made her feel as gorgeous as she is and Andy vows that she will make up for that. “So Mrs Claus,” says Andy finally feeling bold, “if your husband doesn’t know how to appreciate you properly…” she lifts a hand and gently traces the edge of the white fir, left to right, trailing the edge of the neckline, dipping in and out against wonderfully soft flesh that rises and falls with deep breaths, “…will you let me show you how delicious I find you?”

There is no doubt this time, Andy knows Miranda will say yes.

She can tell from the way Miranda is looking at her.

And she cannot wait to devour her.

After all Christmas is all about overindulgence.

Notes:

Next chapter will be uploaded on the 22nd :)

Chapter 3: Mrs Claus

Summary:

Andie waits for Miranda's permission before making good on her offer.

Notes:

I would have thought the warning for this chapter would be obvious, you are getting what the tags promised... smut, but just to be clear this is NSFW.

Enjoy :)

“Yes,” the word is breathed and it occurs to Andy how much it differs from the soft certainty with which her words are usually delivered, somehow more cutting with the gentleness they are shaped, but this single syllable holds more vulnerability that she had seen Miranda show in the years she has worked for her.

It is this realisation that has Andy steadying her hands rather than letting rip the way she desperately wants to after years of holding back. “You are so very beautiful Miranda,” she whispers allowing gentle fingers to caress the faintest of lines on her forehead, so faint she wouldn’t believe them to be there if she couldn’t feel them under the pads of her fingertips as she sweeps the forelock aside and slides her hands into silky soft white hair. She can feel the way Miranda leans into this simple touch, her eyes fluttering closed as she almost rubs her head like a cat into Andy’s palm, a tear breaking free from the confines of her eyelids and tracking over her cheekbone.

Andy has thought about kissing her Boss numerous times, but she had never imagined it like this. In her visions Miranda had always been demanding, controlling, borderline feral, clawing at Andy and claiming her mouth. It isn’t that she doesn’t think Miranda could be like that, Andy knows the woman well enough to be fairly certain that under different circumstances that would be very on point, but the way she is now speaks of something much larger than pure physical attraction. Miranda is coming apart, quite literally in her hands, and Andy feels so honoured to be the person holding her together. The desperation will come, Andy will draw it from the dragon in her palm, but she will savour this vulnerability knowing how rare it is.

She leans down and brushes her mouth down the softness of her cheek, leaving her first kiss on the corner of her lips. Miranda gasps gently and Andy catches it on her lips, dips back in claiming her mouth this time. She is amazed by how receptive Miranda is, how she willingly complies with the movement of Andy’s mouth over hers, opening it when Andy traces her upper lip with her tongue and allowing her to lick inside and seek her own. She tastes sublime, salty and smoky in a way that almost burns, presumably an after effect of the scotch she had been nursing when Andy arrived, and the brunette cannot help but pull her into her more, one hand on the nape of her neck, another round her waist. Initially Miranda’s arms stay at her side, as if she had forgotten every part of herself expect her mouth, but when her hands trail up Andy’s arms, one wrapping round her shoulder and the other weaving its way into her hair she groans. Her scalp has always been sensitive, but feeling the gentle sharpness of Miranda’s carefully manicured nails against it has her shivering blissfully.

Andy could stay like this forever, feeding off every sound, every breath, every kiss she is blessed and though she is keen to reduce the woman in her arms to a whimpering, spasming mess she is intent on not rushing things. Miranda on the other hand, seems to have let her eagerness guide her if the fact that her fingers are now at the buttons on her shirt having already pushed Andy’s coat from her shoulders so that it was now pooling round her feet. She breaks the kiss, looks up at Andy with dilated pupils, “please.”

Miranda asking for her permission, a woman who never asks for permission for anything, still her trembling fingers on her shirt and requesting that Andy grant her access to it. “Here, let me help you,” says Andy, ever the assistant but Miranda bats her hands away.

“Don’t you dare,” she growls and Andy knows this the fire burning through now that she has accepted that Andy was telling the truth, believes that she really is wanted, knows there are no further barriers between them, “For someone who has committed a lifetime to dressing women, I have never wanted to undress one so much.”

“How long for?” she both longs to know the answer to the question and dreads it.

“Far longer than proper,” is the answer that is given before the lapels are parted and Miranda surges forward to take a lace clad nipple between her teeth, which has Andy on her tiptoes and clasping Miranda’s head to her. Trust the iconic woman to be direct.

“Jesus christ,” she hisses out between her teeth, faintly aware that Miranda’s fingers have moved to the zip on the back of her skirt while still mouthing and biting at the fabric of her bra cup. She is rapidly having layers of clothing peeled from her and frantically losing control of the situation. It isn’t that she minds exactly, but she has promised Miranda something and she also wants to instil some ground rules, “Patience gorgeous,” she says catching her hands round the wrists.

“But I want you,” Miranda snips and Andie can’t help but chuckle a little at her eagerness.

“We aren’t at the office Miranda, you can’t just snap your fingers and get what you want immediately,” she looks crestfallen and it makes Andy grin. She places Miranda’s hands on her stomach, loving the way her palms feel against her skin, leans in and whispers, “I didn’t say you wouldn’t get what you want,” she licks the older woman’s earlobe into her ear and nips gently at it, “there are things I want too Miranda. I want to make you moan my name as you come and I refuse for you to distract me from my goal.”

“Oh god,” Andy smiles against the column of her throat, takes her time leaving open mouthed kisses.

“I want to drive you crazy with need, then watch as you gloriously come apart under me, because you will be glorious Miranda, I know you will,” she utters into her jaw line, brushing her thumbs over the thin skin on the inside of Miranda’s wrists where she still has them held, “then I’ll make you come again, because fuck, I know I won’t be able to resist seeing you undone a second time.”

“I’m not sure-, I mean-, I rarely manage one-,”

“I have faith gorgeous,” Andy knows she sounds cocky but she feels it right now, “You are a passionate woman, I just don’t think you have been loved right.” Miranda lets out a strangled sound when Andy licks over her pulse point, “so once you have come twice, then, then you will be desperate to touch me and I will be so riled up by then, I mean just thinking about you like that, fuck, I’ll let you do whatever you want to me.”

“God you make me want Andrea, I don’t think I have ever wanted like this,” the curling of her fingers against Andy’s tummy, her fingernails digging in the smallest amount backs up the sentiment and Andy knows this is going to work.

“I’m not going anywhere Miranda,” Andy kisses her forehead, it is oddly not sexual but she wants to get this point across, yes sex is on the table (well Andy’s hoping for the rug because who wouldn’t want to fuck the chief editor of Runway in a sexy Mrs Claus outfit on a rug in front of an open fire) but there is more on offer if Miranda wants it and Andy hopes she does, “you can have what you want Miranda, but I want a say in it as well.”

“Alright.”

“Good, so for now my lingerie stays on and no touching under it ok?”

Boundaries clearly set and Miranda is on a mission to stick to them but be as close to them as possible. It doesn’t take her long to have her assistant down to just her scants and if Miranda notices the set is not matching, which she 100% does because it is Miranda, she says nothing. Her mouth is too busy driving Andy to distraction, not that Andy is complaining because she has her hands full, currently of Miranda’s arse cheeks because she has rather wonderfully discovered that the older woman is wearing a thong underneath the short red skirt. She kneads the flesh almost compulsively and moans into Miranda’s mouth, guiding them both towards the fireplace.

On all fours, that’s how she wants Miranda if she will let her, skirt flipped up at the back, no. No, on her knees, sat back on her heels, legs spread, Andy’s hand between them as she kisses her deeply until she calls out her pleasure. Oh, but she wants to taste her, lick where she is most drenched, tongue at her entrance and lap at her clit… there is only one thing for it.

“Do you want me inside or eating you out first?”

“First?”

“We’ve been through this Miranda, I intend to savour you and I want you fully sated.”

“I-, you, you don’t have to-,”

It is only then it occurs to Andy that Miranda has only ever had sex with men, and by the sounds of it, men who aren’t prepared to give head. It would be a crying shame, but Andy is revelling in their shortcomings. “Oh I do,” says Andy, licking her lips at the thought, “do you want me to decide for you?”

Miranda nods and Andy feels the trust she has just been handed, she drags Miranda to the ground with her, enjoying the feel of the deep plush pile against her knees, pleased that unless talking the older woman can’t seem to stop kissing her, as she is addicted to the sensation. As a result, getting her how Andy wants her is easy, she sits up and Miranda shifts herself to keep their mouths connected. When she teases fingers under the built-in cups of Miranda’s outfit she jumps and then moans as Andy grazes nipples, breaking away only to say, “How come you’re allowed under clothing?”

“The rules don’t apply to me,” she replies cheekily, biting Miranda’s bottom lip and pinching one of her nipples causing the older woman to let out a gorgeous guttural sound. She knows she had made the right decision, as much as she longs for Miranda to touch her where heat and wetness are gathered, she thinks it likely this is the first time ever someone has concentrated solely on her pleasure and Andy is more than willing to do that. A harsh tug has Miranda’s breasts spilling from their confines and Andy dips her head to suck one of the hardened buds into her mouth. Miranda sits up more, wraps herself round Andy and clings to her. It isn’t difficult to let a hand trail lower, to slip beneath her skirt and find her soaking through the gusset of her knickers. Miranda’s breath hitches when Andy slides the wet fabric aside and glides her hand against her labia.

“What, here?” asks Miranda rather adorably.

“I don’t think I can wait another second,” answers Andy honestly enjoying the way her eyes widen at her explorative touch, “unless you need to be more comfortable.”

“No, god, just-,” Miranda’s forehead drops onto Andy’s shoulders, “don’t stop.”

“You can hold onto me beautiful,” Andy breathes as Miranda strains to hold the position and god its perfect when Miranda claws at her back as she touches her with purpose. “Do you want me inside, or is this good?”

“Good, so good,” Andy smiles at how undone her usually put together Boss sounds, knows that is her doing.

“You have no idea,” Miranda is so slick and the air is thick with the scent of her arousal, it is making Andy’s mouth water and that ache in her core more persistent. She can feel Miranda gasping at her neck, feel the tiny oscillations her hips are doing to encourage Andy’s movements.

“Inside,” the word is so small, but Andie hears it and fulfilling that request has Miranda throwing her head back, Andy licks up her neck and then captures her mouth. Confident, hard but not harsh thrusts have Miranda keening as she kisses Andy back. Andy knows Miranda is close when her kisses become uncoordinated and she leans back to take in the sight in her arms as she continues to pump. Miranda’s eyes are scrunched shut and her mouth is open, her nails are biting into Andy’s back and she truly is glorious.

“Miranda, look at me,” she complies, opens her eyes and Andy has never seen them so blown, “I’m going to lick you clean once you come.”

“Oh fuck,” the words are choked but Andy knows from the clenching around her digits that comment, that mental imagine, nearly did it for Miranda. “I want you out this outfit, lying on your back, the firelight illuminating your gorgeous skin and I am going to lick you so, so slowly until you are begging me to let you come again.”

“Andrea.”

“I know beautiful, I know.”

“Oh god, Andrea!” Andy gets her wish, Miranda comes calling her name. She guides her sideways when the strength leaves her Boss’ body, gathers her into her arms and holds her.

When Miranda’s eyes open again Andy is licking arousal from her fingers and grinning, “You taste divine.”

“My word, you are sinful,” they are spoken like a prayer and the way Miranda is looking at her lets her know that she did well.

“I love your outfit.” Miranda laughs, the sound bubbling from her as if she had forgotten she was even wearing the thing and now finds the situation deeply amusing. “But I want you out of it now.”

“Alright.”

“I want just Miranda.”

The comment has tears welling in Miranda’s eyes.

Notes:

Merry Christmas! For those of you who don't celebrate I hope you have a good break and have some fun anyway!

The final chapter of this bit of madness will be uploaded by the 30th, just depends when I get chance to sit down and upload it! :)

Chapter 4: Just Miranda

Summary:

Andie makes good on her promises and allows Miranda to pay her back.

Notes:

This chapter continues in much the same manner the previous one finished... therefore NSFW again :)

What a sight she makes, Miranda post-orgasm. Hair mussed, lips kiss-swollen and her outfit creased and crinkled from being pushed aside and pressed. How anyway could have said no to this Andy has no idea. She looks like the naughtiest Christmas present and Andy can’t wait to unwrap her fully.

But Miranda has been good, her hands haven’t wandered beyond the parameters set and despite having not pushed for more, Andy has no doubt she wants it. Miranda is still catching her breath and the white faux fur trim strains under her bosom as it heaves. The fire is dying out and Andy goes to move, not just with the intention of adding a log but also with the aim of removing the last vestiges of her dignity. The first because she doesn’t want either of them to get cold and she certain doesn’t want to relocate just yet, she wants Miranda exactly where she is, lying back chest rising and falling deeply, face turned to her with adoration, one hand in her hair as if she is still coming to terms with what has just happened to her. The latter because Miranda should be rewarded for her restraint.

“Where are you going?” the older woman asks as soon as Andy shifts away from her to stand.

“Not far,” she replies spotting the tumbler on the mantlepiece where Miranda had left it, “Do you mind?”

“Not at all.”

Miranda watches the movement of Andy’s throat as she takes the glass her Boss had been drinking from and takes a sip. Andy doubts she will ever be able to afford a bottle, which is a shame because that particular rich, full-bodied and smooth burn will always remind her of this evening. “Tastes almost as good as you,” she hums.

“Charmer.”

“Oh I do hope so, do you need anything?”

“You back down here,” replies Miranda, her eyes glittering in the firelight. She looks the most delicious wreck, the red velvet looks crushed and the white trim is damp and clumped in places, she has lost one shoe at some point in proceedings and Andy cannot wait to shed of the red and white no matter how attached she had become to it. She wonders for a moment, as she looks down at the woman at her feet, if she should leave the stockings on. No, she said she wanted Miranda just as she is and she meant it. Wants her naked, both of them, nothing between them but the moment they share.

“Two seconds,” says Andy mind made up as she tends to the fire, “don’t want this to die out.” It bursts to life, renewed and Andy returns her full attention to her Boss, “don’t want you to get cold.”

 “Always thinking of what I need Andrea?”

The assistant reaches behind her herself and unclasps her bra, “Always,” she replies letting it slip down and then discarding it to the side. Miranda watches intently as Andy reveals more of her herself and she basks in her attention.

“My god Andrea, you are exquisite.”

“I’m glad you think so,” smirks Andy, “after all you do have a taste for very fine things.” She lowers herself to the rug again, “still no touching me where they would have covered, but I know how visual you are.”

“I will get to touch you though?”

“Fuck yes, but I still have a promise to fulfil,” she says crawling over her. “Or have you forgotten?” asks Andy cupping her gentle.

“God no,” gasps Miranda, more ready for the touch that she expected to be so soon after if the way she grinds into Andy’s palm is anything to go by.

“Steady gorgeous,” chuckles Andy softly, “I want you to come on my tongue.”

“But I could-,” clearly any misapprehensions the older woman had about not being able to achieve more than one orgasm have flown and Andy lessens the pressure against her core, leaving Miranda whining.

Fingers hook under the waistband of Miranda’s thong and pull it down her shapely legs, there is something sexy about the fact that the first piece of her clothing that Andy removes is that one, but she isn’t going to stop there. “Never get rid of this outfit,” she warns as she turns Miranda over gently to find the zipper. It doesn’t take long to undress Miranda fully, her Mrs Claus costume now a heap on the nearest sofa apart from the shoes, one of which is lying on its side under said chair, the other Andy spots about 2 metres from them and has no idea how it got there.

“You want it next Christmas as well?” teases Miranda and Andy doesn’t know if it is the endorphins talking or if she meant what she said, she hopes it is the latter.

“Every Christmas,” Andy replies honestly before capturing Miranda’s kiss-bruised lips once again. They slot together so wonderfully and Andy loves the feel of Miranda’s body shifting against hers, but when her hips start to grind in earnest, which, if she is honest doesn’t take long, she takes pity on her and begins her descent. That doesn’t mean she rushes it, no she had promised slow and that is what she is doing, gradually building Miranda up until she topples and falls hard.

By the time she reaches Miranda’s core she is having to hold her hips steady with a firm grip. It takes serious willpower not to just feast, her flavour heady and musky on her tongue but she wants to take Miranda right to the edge and have her beg for release. That doesn’t stop her moaning into Miranda’s cunt as she laps gently, taking her time to do as she promised and clean her as best as possible considering that her ministrations are just causing Miranda to gush further.

“Please, oh Andrea, please,” the quiet desperation is there and Andy can’t quite believe she has managed it, tamed the dragon and coaxed it so very gently to ask for what it wants. Miranda writhes so beautifully in her grasp and she considers not giving in just yet, just so she can hear that pure wantonness fall from her lips again. This time she decides to be merciful; this is a lot for Miranda who asks no one for anything ever. No, this is a woman who demands and takes but Andy has reduced her to begging to be given something only Andy can give. Several long harsh licks with the flat of her tongue against Miranda’s clit is enough to tip her over and she calls out, her hands flying to the back of Andy’s head holding her in place as she bucks.

When her hold lessens Andy sits up, licking her lips, “Knew it, glorious.”

“That was-,” Miranda is dragging in deep lungfuls of air, “Sweet-, oh my sweet Andrea.” She pushes herself up onto her elbows to look at the grinning Andy, “Will you let me do that to you?”

“You can do whatever you like to me now, I told you that.” Andy knows that look, it is the one Miranda gets when her mind is whirring, but having it focussed on her does something to the pit of her stomach and she is suddenly worried she might have given too much leeway. Not because she is worried Miranda might do something she won’t like, no, it is because she is desperate to come and she knows Miranda is capable of being very elaborate in her planning. “But please don’t make me wait too long, I’m so riled up from you.”

“Are you?” Miranda looks surprised, so Andy takes her hand and guides it between her thighs knowing that the wetness that will greet her will answer the question better than she ever could verbally, “Oh my!”

Andy groans when Miranda takes initiative and waggles her fingers before slipping between her folds and locating her entrance, “could you take me already?”

“Yes,” the tables have turned and she knows that the way that little word came out is as good as begging. Miranda’s hand leaves her and Andy’s eyes fly open.

“Lie down,” it is somewhere between a request and a command, but Andie is more than happy to comply, particularly as once she does and lets her legs fall open Miranda’s hand is back, fingers teasing at her entrance.

One pushes in very gently and can’t help but ask for more, “Two, I want at least two.”

“I think I like this side of you Andrea,” purrs Miranda complying as she looks down at Andy spread out in front of her.

“What?”

“The one that knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to ask for it. Just don’t bring it into my office.”

“I’ll save it for when we are alone,” Andy grits out trying to impale herself further on the protruding digits.

“Patience darling,” tuts Miranda with amusement and Andy knows exactly what she is up to, though she is hardly complaining. Once Miranda is fully sheathed within her, she expects her to start moving, when she doesn’t Andy thinks she is nearly about to explode. She feels so full, and god that feels good, but she can’t come like this, she is about to say something when Miranda shifts, the hand at Andie’s core annoyingly still and lowers her head. For a terrifying second Andy wonders if she had simply done this to get a better look at how greedily she is gripping her fingers and as much as the thought turns her on it also scares her because, god dammit she needs to come. Relief floods through her with pleasure when Miranda dips her head an experimentally flicks her clit with the tip of her tongue. Andy’s body nearly jumps off the rug and Miranda chuckles, deep and rumbling, “Oh yes, I can see why you were keen to do this to me, I can feel how much you like it round my fingers.”

Her fingers don’t move, but that hardly matters when her tongue returns to Andie’s clit licking at it over and over causing her to clench repeatedly round the intrusion. Andy is so wound up it doesn’t take long for her to come, gulping air and her fingers clawing the pile of the rug under them.

“Stay?” is the first word she hears when she comes back to herself, a nervous question from the dragon herself.

“I don’t have any clothes for tomorrow,” she answers without thinking.

Miranda laughs, the sound filling the room and reiterating the happiness Andy feels in her chest. “My entire life is women’s clothes, I’m sure we will have something you can wear somewhere.”

“Do you think Roy will think any of it if he picks us both up tomorrow.”

“And what if he does?”

Andy thinks about it, Roy has kept Miranda’s secrets for many years, she can’t see this being an exception. “That reminds me,” she says sitting bolt upright, “I had to bump some of your meetings and we will now need to go to James Holt first thing.”

“A shame,” says Miranda looking at her in a manner that is positively feral.

“Shame?”

“I was hoping for morning sex.”

“I’m quite an early riser,” says Andy quickly, “have needed to be ever since I got this Boss that never seems to sleep.”

“Total tyrant, is she?”

“God yes,” Andy sighs and doesn’t miss the concern in her lover’s eyes, “in the best way possible.”

“Oh?”

“Hmm,” Andy nuzzles into Miranda’s shoulder, “but she has soft spots and I intend to find them all.”

*****

“You sure about this Andrea?” Miranda asks quietly as they walk along the corridor towards HR.

“Of course.”

“If we go through with this everyone will know by lunchtime and the news will be full of it tomorrow morning, I’ll protect you as best I can but we all know what journalists can be like.”

“Oi!”

“Fine tabloid journalists,” Miranda corrects.

“Do you not want people to know?” Andy asks, nervous that this is the real reason for Miranda’s hesitance.

The older woman pauses and Andy braces herself for the worst. It has been two weeks, the most glorious two weeks and today is the last working day before Christmas. Andy is due to go home to Connecticut tomorrow to see her family and she doesn’t know how she is going to do without Miranda but it does cross her mind that if she is to take away this wonderful thing between them, now would be a sensible time. After all, they won’t be seeing each other for a few days and Andy will be with people who can support her. Miranda knows that and as much as people might think, Andy knows she isn’t heartless.

“Andrea I would happily walk into every office in this building and announce us proudly, my only concerns are for you and my girls and they love you.”

“Do you still plan to tell them?”

“Tonight,” Miranda confirms, “it isn’t fair for them to be kept in the dark.”

“Are you not concerned about how they will take it?”

“Of course, but I didn’t raise bigots and they are old enough to understand.”

“Ok.”

“Ok?”

“Ok,” repeats Andy and she means it.

She strides towards the door and opens it for Miranda. That is enough to have every person in the HR department jump to their feet. “Bridget, a word in your office,” Miranda says, “Andrea and I have something we need to discuss with you.”

Andy has always loved Christmas. Always. Loved the bells and glitter and the general joy that hangs in the air like fairy lights. This Christmas however she thinks may be the best one ever because she is being given a gift that is all year round.

After all a Miranda is for life, not just for Christmas. Or at least, that’s what Andie hopes and by the looks for it, so does Miranda.

Notes:

And so ends my first Mirandy fic. Hope you enjoyed it.

Happy New Year! :)

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 2 of Festive Frolics
• Part 1 of DWP Pontifications