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Drinking Games

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“A drink for every game lost...” Phryne reminded herself as she held her glass hesitantly up to her lips. 

“That’s the rule," Jack smiled as he watched her drain her glass. She winced, scrunching her nose up at the burn and he thought that it may rank among the most adorable things that he had ever seen. She already made a picture, sitting cross-legged on the floor of his parlor in a ballgown that he would most definitely consider lethal but she was more Collingwood pirate than heiress tonight and he made a mental note to kiss the bridge of that scrunched up nose later. 

“Three-three. We’re even,” she pointed a wobbly finger towards him as he reset the board on the coffee table between them. 

“One more to declare a final victor? Or are you no longer handling your liquor?” He asked, poking her where it hurt.

“A bold statement for a man sitting on his floor in half of a tuxedo.”

“You’re the one who’s seeing double,” he accused, knowing she’d fumbled two pieces in the last game from poor perception alone.

“Perhaps, but once I win, I’m going to take the pair of you to bed and ride you both until the sun rises,” she promised. 

Jack’s trousers grew admittedly tighter at the thought. 

“Final bet: the champion of the series sets their own prize.”

She reached out and shook his hand on it, both of them knowing that it would end the same either way.

"Visitors first, Miss Fisher," he gestured gallantly to the board. He had every intention of letting her win. After all, one more drink and she'd be no good to him at all. He’d end up carrying her to bed, and not in the good way.

He played well, given his actual endgame and in her state of inebriation, she was none the wiser to her false win. 

“Drink up, Inspector,” she grinned as she took his last piece.

“Alright, alright," he conceded with a faux reluctance as he reached for his drink. “To you,” he raised his glass towards her.

She stood up, raised the hem of her dress to her calves dramatically, and set a bare foot on the empty board, using the table as a stepping stone to capture her prize as efficiently as possible. She settled in his lap, the tulle of her dress piling around them as she pressed his back into the sofa behind him. 

“Come to claim your winnings?” He asked, trying to keep his cool as she slowly slid his loose tie out from underneath his open collar where he had abandoned it halfway through game one. He wondered how long she had been itching to remove it.

“Mmm,” she agreed. “I think that you’ll do quite nicely.” She toyed with the buttons on his shirt with no real intention of undressing him. 

“Are you sure? I’ve been informed that there’s a whole world out there. Maybe you should think it over.”

She scoffed at the thought that used to haunt her. 

“A champion deserves the very best, Inspector,” she ran her fingers along his collarbone. “And a woman of my stature and experience has refined tastes,” she placed a kiss to the corner of his jaw. “I want to know that I’m going to be completely satisfied in every way,” she whispered in his ear before moving to the other side of his face, “And only one man has ever given me that level of pleasure.” She kissed his neck again before trailing her lips down his throat. 

He smiled at the compliment and tried to hide the shiver that her soft ministrations were creating within him.

“Then it’s your move, Miss Fisher,” he rumbled quietly. 

She considered his words before sliding off of his lap and standing up. 

He watched her walk to the door of the parlor before disappearing around the corner.

“Come after me, Jack Robinson,” she called back down the hall.

He exhaled sharply, letting the tension of her words and actions flood him before standing up and doing just that. 

She was waiting for him in the dark and as soon as he turned the corner, she pulled him up against her, trapping herself between him and the wall and kissing him madly. 

The privacy that his home afforded them, not to mention the alcohol, made them bold. At hearing her cry out in need, Jack didn’t think twice about servicing her right there in the hall. He snuck under her dress and between her legs. He felt insatiable as he devoured her for the sake of his own pleasure. He was certain that the taste of her, mixing with the whiskey on his tongue, was enough to kill lesser men but he couldn’t stop until he had taken everything that she had to offer.

She moaned in blind pleasure above him, clutching at the wall and his hidden form in alternating desperation as she writhed up against his mouth. When she finally came, it was with a cry that he felt vibrating throughout his entire body.  

When he emerged again, he wiped his mouth with his hand and took her in. He’d just brought her to a screaming climax and every piece of her looked the part. Her eyes were still closed and the bodice of her dress was cockeyed, barely covering her heaving, flushed breasts. Her hair was mussed, her muscles were limp, and she was trembling. 

“Jesus, Phryne, you look like sin itself,” he groaned before stealing a kiss from her.

“Bed,” she panted as she stumbled towards his bedroom. 

He tugged his shirt up and over his head as he walked and began on his trousers before she had even collapsed onto the mattress. He finished undressing and when she looked up again, she chuckled wickedly at his obvious desperation. 

She rolled over onto her back and raised her skirt again, this time to her hips.

“Do you want some relief, Inspector?” She offered. 

He nodded, staring pointedly down the barrel of her dress.

She did her best to remove the offending garment from her position but required some assistance lifting the entire piece over her head. When she had finally escaped, she sighed and brushed her hair back into place. 

“Now, where were we?” She asked as he quickly joined her in bed. 

“Riding me until the sun rises,” he quoted her directly.

She took in his eager but compliant position beside her before laughing out loud, finally realizing that he had orchestrated his own loss for just this purpose. She did him the kindness of settling over top of him.

“And you’re sure that your manly pride won’t be hurt by the devastating loss that you’ve just endured at the hands of a woman?” She questioned as she raised his hands above his head. 

“Oh, there’s more than one way to win, Miss Fisher,” he murmured before kissing her.