Chapter Text
Dating the Dragon Lady, Ice Queen of Fashion, was no unremarkable feat. Andrea had learned that the hard way and bragged about it whenever she could (with no shame, either, because who would be ashamed of that?). Of course, people would listen (they basically had to, as they feared Miranda's ire) and nod sympathetically, with a dubious undertone and growing concern.
Though they were discreet at work, when people weren't around, on rare (super rare) moments, they would lose no time having some fun. Had they ever been caught?
No, at least not before that day, when Emily, unfortunately, walked in. Oh, how traumatising it must be to find your boss bent down, back arched, hands pinned against the wooden desk, as the fingers of her assistant already so deep in her, moans loudly ringing in the ears. Needless to say, or even try to describe, how fast Emily had shut the door, making the whole room tremble.
So, back to the present day, Emily hadn't (or maybe, couldn't) brought herself to politely, nonchalantly say something to Andrea, not even 'Hello,' or her sarcastic 'Hello, don't bother me. Thanks.'
Andrea could feel the laughter burn her throat because she had avoided her on every given occasion: in the lounge room, at the entrance to Runway, and even in the toilets, sometimes. During meetings, especially, she did her best to stare at everything and everyone but her.
For someone who would do anything in her power to ridicule her at every chance, seeing Emily like that made Andrea question if her heart felt heavy because of having been caught or for something else she couldn't quite figure out.
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"What do you think of Emily?" Andrea asked as she retrieved her panties from the floor; Miranda was always messy when it came to undressed Andrea, clothes scattered everywhere, underwear unable to stay still. "I mean, she's avoiding me, but she can't avoid you."
"She can't even look me in the eye," she laughed sheepishly, a smirk growing as she gestured for Andrea to get into bed once again. "Honestly, I think it's adorable; for someone who says nothing but snarky remarks, I didn't expect this prudish behavior."
"Exactly!" Andrea smiled, giggling as she got inside the bed, kissing Miranda on her lips, making her suddenly gasp. "I think she's sooo cute."
Miranda stared at her, a stare she would usually give when she knew she was plotting something. "What is your little head thinking, Andrea?"
"Hmmm. It's weird, actually; I don't know if you'll like it," Andrea kissed her again, but this time, Miranda bit her lower lip, as her hand squeezed one of her bare breasts, "I–," the squeeze tightened, the tongue teasing hers. "Do you wa–want to add Emily, have sex with her?"
A huff came in response, Andrea thought she had messed everything up. Miranda's eyes lit up, a smile on her lips. "Are you suggesting a threesome? My, Andrea, I thought you were obsessed with me only."
"I am! I just," Miranda's hand ventured down, getting inside her panties; fingers rubbed against Andrea's clit, as the heat grew with each stroke. "Miranda, I just ca–came..." Andrea's voice sounded wolfish, breathy, "...I swear, I love you, but—"
"But?"
Andrea felt weak, needy and very, very wet. Miranda knew she was close to her climax, in few minutes, Andrea would have screamed her name, chanted it like a spell. She couldn't handle it anymore,
"I want to see you getting screwed over, I want to screw you; I want us both to—"
Andrea moaned, loud and proud. Miranda, Miranda, Miranda! the screams echoed in the bedroom. Miranda hummed, satisfied.
"Fine," her tongue licked the cum off the tips her fingers, teasing her with the eyes. "Though inviting her seems like an immense task, I daresay."
Andrea panted, gasping for air; her body warm, chest rising at an alarming speed. "I did it once. I can do it twice."
"Oh, you."
Then, their laughs came out.
˚࿔
Andrea stood in front of the coffee machine, glancing at Emily and smiling whenever they locked eyes (which rarely happened). How was she even going to do this?
Andrea suddenly noticed that Emily had almost finished her coffee, so immediately she filled a cup for her, added a bit of sugar and milk, and walked towards her desk.
Emily noticed and rapidly started typing something (probably gibberish) on her laptop, Andrea sped up towards her.
"Hey," she positioned the coffee near her, smiling widely, "I—um, you've been ignoring me for quite a while now."
Emily sighed, continuing to type, not in the mood for chatting, apparently. Perhaps Andrea had to push some buttons, but which ones? Emily seemed so enthralled by Miranda, resembling a high–schooler dealing with her first crush.
Could Emily be jealous? That actually explained a lot. Andrea must be the one she was jealous of because Emily had always been there for Miranda, always waiting for a chance, always following her every order for years, but wasn't chosen. Andrea was, and that baffled her.
So, by merely observing her, Emily was avoiding Andrea because she was in love with Miranda. It made sense, it made so much sense, yes, but that would have complicated things more.
"Okay—," Andrea didn't know what to do now. Emily wouldn't have said a word, or even try to. "Let me know if there's anything I can do for you."
Suddenly, they both could hear the clicks of Miranda's heels; an unmistakable sound. Andrea stood still near Emily, while Emily froze in her seat.
Miranda walked in, removing her coat. She stared at Andrea's position, then at Emily's, deciding to drop the coat on Emily's desk. Miranda stared at her and, surprisingly, smiled, as her eyes quickly focused on Andrea, as if saying, 'I hope I'm helping you somehow'.
She did help, because Andrea's eyes suddenly shifted to Emily's face; she had always been on the paler side, but now, the reddish tones painted her cheeks with the deepest, softest colors.
Well, Andrea's mind was quick to catch up and make a new strategy.
"You're blushing..." Andrea's voice sounded harsh, though she really didn't feel hurt. "...Emily, you know she's with me, right?"
"I–I wa–wasn't staring! I swear!" Finally, the first sentences after weeks of silent treatment. It was working, a bit too well. "She just–she never, her coat—!"
"But Emily, you're staring; you're all red," Andrea insisted, pointing out the obvious as she leaned over her desk, positioning her fingers on the laptop, turning it off. Emily's attention was now all on her, her eyes struggling to maintain contact. "What do I have to think?"
"You don't have to think anything, Andrea! Because I don't—," Emily's voice cracked when Andrea suddenly got so close, her lips near her ear. Andrea could hear the pulse of her heart through her skin, her breathing quickening.
"Emily," Andrea breathed low in her ear, as she watched how goosebumps quickly appeared on her skin, "I'm angry at you. Do you know that once, during sex, she screamed your name?" No, it wasn't true, but it was working. "She kept screaming," her voice got even lower, huskier, "Emily, oh, oh Fuck! I wonder how she would fuck me—"
Emily quickly stood up; her legs trembled, her face a pure mess. She glared at Andrea, only to walk quickly to the bathroom without excusing herself, as she always did.
Miranda, apparently, had been watching the whole scene from her desk, because as soon as Emily was out of the way, she called out Andrea's name, and Andrea quickly reached her.
"Well," Miranda stared at her, wondering why she wasn't saying anything. "How did it go?"
"Umm, I'm making progress." If Andrea could call progress making her run off to the bathroom to masturbate on what she had just said; about Miranda wanting to fuck her. But, well, a win is a win. "No worries, my dear."
"Mhh," Miranda let out, only to then focus on her work. Andrea knew she could do it, of course she could; she had tamed the Dragon, she could tame the Knight.