Pairing: Polly/Mal.
Rating: E

Disclaimer: The author makes no claim to owning the rights of anything to do with Terry Pratchett or Discworld.
Note: Okay, clearly my one-track mind is doing its thing again. ;-) As such, I present a sex-in-the-office fic, inspired by Latin_Doll's comic about 'make love not war', wherein Polly is fantasizing about Mal during a meeting (and Mal is, quite probably, doing the same thing about Polly). Anyway, as such this takes place in an alternate ficverse, wherein Mal and Polly and lieutenants at the same time, and in-which Mal has very long hair (apparently). Enjoy. :-)

Eating In
by Amazon Syren

     “Gods,” Polly groans, leaning against the office door. “I thought that meeting would never end.”
Mal, her jacket hanging open, her long braid flung casually over one shoulder, smirks.
      “Seven hours is a record,” she concedes, digging her coffee beans out of her desk drawer. “That was quite the speech you made at the end there,” she adds. “All that stuff about a wonderful opportunity to extend the hand of friendship? Just brilliant.”
      “Yeah, well...” Polly sighs. “I was a bit distracted at the time,” she gives Mal a sharp look. “Not that you were helping, by the way.”
      Mal’s mouth quirks as she takes the steaming kettle off the tiny stove.
      “Oh, come on,” she protests, pouring hot water into the little engine on her desk. “You were bored, I was bored. It’s not like anyone noticed.”
      “I noticed!”
      The grin widens, an eyebrow lifts, suggestively.
      “I know you did, Polly Perks.”
      Polly flushes, hotly, cheeks burning.
      “That is not what I – you—Eugh!” She gives up, and settles for glaring.
      It has no effect what so ever.
      Mal just chuckles, taking a seat and beginning to work the coffee engine.
      “You’re not fooling anyone, you know,” she says, with gentle amusement.
      Polly rolls her eyes, pushing away from the door.
      She has no idea why Mal hooked her foot around Polly’s calf, teasing her for the last ten minutes of the meeting, but she knows damn well that she was thinking about Mal, and about sex, long before Mal’s sneaky foot started making overtures under the table.
      She leans against her own desk with a sigh.
      “Just so long as I fooled Captain Bal Klava,” she answers. “Honestly, that man blusters so much...”
      Mal shrugs, propping her feet up.
      “Typical Rupert,” she answers, dismissively, pouring herself a cup of coffee.
      “Hey,” Polly interjects. “What does that make me? Or you, for that matter?”
      Mal grins into her coffee cup, taking a sip.
      She looks at Polly over the rim of her cup, eyes twinkling.
      “You, my dear Lieutenant, are anything but typical.”
      Polly snorts, shaking her head, as Mal takes another sip.
      Polly unbuttons her jacket, shrugging it off and hanging it on the coat-stand by the door. She watches Mal drink her coffee, savouring every drop.
      Sometimes she wonders if Mal is making a show of how much she enjoys the stuff. Surely all that blissful closing of her eyes, the slow licking of her lips, the way she leans back in her chair and sighs in such unadulterated bliss... Surely at least some of that must be a performance, shouldn’t it?
      Polly hopes so. If only because, if it isn’t, she should probably be averting her eyes, and a significant part of her, blushing or otherwise, really doesn’t want to look away.
      Mal sighs, setting her cup down, carefully, on the desk.
      She opens her eyes, slowly, and her mouth quirks.
      “You’re blushing again, Old Chap,” she comments, getting to her feet and making her way to the stove.
      “The way you drink coffee? Of course I am,” Polly protests, looking away, feeling flustered, feeling the heat rising between her legs all over again.
      She makes her way to the small window, leaning on the sill and watching the street below, while Mal dampens a rag and cleans her coffee engine. She wonders, idly, when the captain who shares their office is going to get back from his supper.
      “Your heart-rate’s been going up and down like crazy, I might point out,” Mal continues, a hint of amusement in her voice.
      “Er... No, you really didn’t have to point that out,” Polly answers. What? Could Mal read her mind? Er. Cancel that thought.
      She hears the clink of Mal’s china cup being set back in its saucer, Mal’s footsteps on the floorboards, coming to a halt behind her.
      “So,” Mal murmurs, slipping her arm around Polly’s waist. “What were you thinking about that got you so distracted?” she asks, planting a kiss just below Polly’s earlobe.
      “Uh, w-what do you think?” she stammers, surprised by the contact. Right in front of the window, too!
      “Hmmm,” Mal muses, dropping kisses along the Polly’s neck. “Cherry pancakes?”
      Polly giggles, taking Mal’s hand in her own.
      “I promise you, cherries were not involved in any way.”
      “Ah,” Mal murmurs. Her free hand comes up to cup Polly’s breast, stroking her nipple through the cotton of her shirt, making Polly’s breath suddenly raged. “So no virginal maidens, then, either?”
      “Gods, Mal...” Polly gasps, her own hand finding Mal’s thigh, grasping at the cloth of her trouser-leg. "C-can’t say-— Mal, are you crazy?” she finally demands, although, given the shivers rippling through her body, she really doesn’t want Mal to stop. “What if captain Bundt comes in?”
      Mal snorts, softly.
      “He won’t,” she murmurs against Polly’s ear. “There was a man in need of a drink if ever I saw one.” Carefully, she takes Polly’s tight nipple between her thumb and finger. “We have all the time in the world.”
      She tugs gently, rolling the nipple between her fingers, turning Polly’s legs to jelly, making her whimper.
      “Gods, Mal, are you sure?” she asks, praying for a yes, far too aware of the wetness between her legs, her own hand sliding slowly along Mal's thigh.
      “Mmhmm,” comes Mal’s knowing response. “It’s been a long day,” she continues. “I think we’ve earned a little fun, don’t you?”
      Polly, shuddering with desire, decides not to argue. She turns in Mal’s arms, guiding her out of the open window frame, pressing her against the wall, kissing her fiercely, exploring Mal’s mouth with her tongue, catching the lingering taste of coffee on her lips. Mal pulls Polly closer, unbuttoning her shirt, reaching for Polly’s breasts. The touch makes Polly shiver, and she feels the tension beginning to build in her stomach. She pushes her thigh between Mal’s legs, feels Mal’s hips leap against her own. She presses closer, one hand planing Mal's thigh, the other sliding upwards to find Mal's nipple, already tight under her shirt, stroaking and teasing with her thumb.
      Mal slips her arms around Polly, grinding against her eagerly. Polly presses back, trembling with need, their hips moving together, rhythmically.
      “Come here,” Polly murmurs, huskily, against Mal's lips, already tearing at Mal’s trouser buttons.
“Anything you want,” Mal answers, softly.
      She shifts in Polly’s arms, as Polly slips her hand between Mal’s legs, fingers sliding over and between the folds of her slick flesh. Mal tilts her hips, rubbing against Polly’s fingers as Polly finds her clit.
      “Mmm,” she sighs, arching gently. “You are very good at this.”
      Polly’s mouth quirks, and she leans closer, planting delicate kisses along Mal’s jaw.
      “I wonder where I got that from,” she teases, softly, against Mal’s ear. Below, her fingers flutter more quickly, eliciting a ragged breath from Mal.
      Polly kisses Mal’s neck slowly, following the curve of her throat, her shoulder, as Mal’s hands slide over her skin, raising tremors of pleasure. She can smell coffee on Mal’s skin, the faint scent of roses in her long hair and, wafting up from between her legs, the pungent, intoxicating scent of her sex. Polly breathes deeply, her head spinning.
      “I need all of you,” she whispers, urgently, dropping suddenly to her knees.
      She presses her eager mouth against Mal’s heated flesh, lapping the taste of her, hungrily. Mal arches against Polly's lips, her flickering tongue, whimpering softly, fingers tangling in Polly’s hair, pressing her closer.
      Polly circles Mal’s clit with her tongue, digging in her own pocket for her handkerchief and drying her fingers quickly. She knows they will still smell of Mal all evening, a secret treat for her to savour while she fills out endless reports.
      Wedging the handkerchief back in her pocket, she slides her hands over Mal’s thighs, making her shudder and sigh. With her tongue, she finds Mal’s clit, presses against the special spot on the side that drives her crazy, earning a soft moan for her trouble. She suckles Mal’s clit, eagerly, aching for her to come, as hungry for the fluttering spasm of Mal’s climax as she is for her own.
      She can hear Mal’s hitching breath, feel the clench of Mal’s stomach against her forehead, the trembling of her thighs against her hands, her cheeks.
      “Yes,” hardly more than a hiss of breath, but Mal’s fists tighten in Polly’s hair, as she grinds hard against Polly’s mouth and her stomach jolts, sharply once, twice. After the third time, her hands, her thighs, relax, and she trails her fingers lazily through Polly’s hair, along her jaw.
      Polly pulls away, slightly, finding her handkerchief once more. She looks up, watching through heavy-lidded eyes as Mal bites her lip, squirming with aftershocks, at the touch of Polly’s hand, dabbing carefully at her still-soaking flesh. Polly presses the cloth to her face, briefly, inhaling the scent as she cleans her own chin, before tidying the handkerchief away, and re-buttoning Mal’s trousers.
      Mal’s hands are at her shoulders, helping her to her feet.
      “You are magnificent,” Mal murmurs, fervently, pulling Polly into her arms, and nuzzling her neck. Polly cups Mal’s chin, finding her mouth agains, kissing her hungrily.
      Mal trails a hand over Polly’s bare breast, making her stomach flutter with need, and she whimpers against Mal’s yielding lips.
      “Don’t make me wait,” she pleads, pressing closer, grinding against Mal’s hips and guiding Mal’s hand to her trouser buttons. “I want you now!”
      “Good!” Mal answers, ardently, spilling kisses over Polly’s skin as she unfastens Polly’s buttons. She sucks Polly’s tight nipple, hard, making Polly gasp and tremble, her hips leaping against Mal’s eager fingers.
      “I want your mouth,” Polly whispers, even as she grinds against Mal’s hand.
      “Mmm, anything,” Mal murmurs, sinking to her knees, dragging Polly’s trousers down with her. Polly feel’s Mal’s warm breath on her flesh, Mal’s fingers tracing lightly over her naked thighs. She presses her hand to the nape of Mal’s neck, urging her closer.
      When Mal’s mouth engulfs her, hot and moist, her teasing tongue stroking the sodden folds of Polly’s sensitive flesh, Polly can’t keep from moaning, though she grits her teeth against the sound, hoping to muffle it. She arches her back, pressing herself against Mal’s mouth, her soft lips, her firm, circling tongue, as her breath hitches and her stomach tightens, rushing hard towards her own climax.
      “Ohgodsohgods,” she whimpers, pressing Mal closer, her hips pulsing rhythmically as the rush of pleasure overtakes her and she comes, shaking and shuddering, against Mal’s tongue.
      Mal’s fingers brush idly over Polly’s thighs, raising rippling aftershocks.
      “Oh, hells, that was good,” Polly pants, even as she shivers at the touch of Mal’s tongue, gently lapping at her wetness, sucking her sodden flesh to a reasonable impression of ‘dry’. She sags, briefly, against the wall, trying to get her breath back to normal.
      “I think,” she murmurs, helping Mal to her feet. “...I think I need to sit down.”
      Mal fastens Polly’s trousers for her, as Polly re-buttons her shirt, tucking it in carefully, trying not to re-awaken her fluttering stomach. She makes her way, on trembling legs, to her desk, where she collapses, gratefully, into her chair. Behind her, Mal leans over, one hand on Polly's shoulder.
      “Feeling better?” she murmurs, teasing gently.
      “Significantly,” Polly answers, choosing to ignore the tone.
      “Good,” Mal continues. Slowly, she slides her hand from Polly's shoulder to her lap.
      “Just imagine,” Mal murmurs against Polly’s ear, her hand moving, slowly, insistently, between Polly’s legs, “what I could do for you with more time.”
      Polly shudders with sudden need, her stomach clenching hard.
      “Just a thought to keep you warm until we get home tonight,” Mal finishes.
      She straightens up as if nothing had happened, and saunters back to her own desk, the long rope of her braid swinging as she goes.
      “>i>You</i>,” Polly gasps, blushing crimson, finding her voice at last. “You are cruel and wicked and completely abominable,” she declares. “You know that?”
      Mal, lounging in her own desk chair, merely winks.
      “Vampire,” she answers.
      Polly rolls her eyes, and turns back to her paperwork, determined to ignore her partner.
      Her brain, unfortunately, has other ideas, and the thought of Mal, tonight, wearing nothing but her long, dark hair and her knowing smile, sneaks back into her mind, making it impossible to concentrate. She squirms in her seat even as, across the room, the latch clicks, and the office doors swings open. Captain Bundt, returning from his meal.
      “Did you chaps want to get some supper?” he asks, stumbling slightly as he hangs his shako on the hat rack.
      “Not just now, thanks,” Mal answers, and Polly catches the subtle twist in her words. “We’ve already eaten.”
      Behind her desk, Polly shifts, aware of her own wetness once more.
      She’s already hungry again.