FIC: Criteria (Rosie/Marigold)

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What can I say, hyel unwittingly gave me femslash bunnies.





Title: Criteria
Author: Janette Le Fay
Pairing: Rose/Marigold
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Rosie likes Gamgees. Yup.
Disclaimer: Hobbits already coveted by Tolkien. I make no money from this slow destruction of their reputations. ^_^

Criteria

"What on earth do you see in Sam?" Marigold asked, wrinkling her nose as she leaned across Rosie to take another apple from the now dwindling heap. "He's as stubborn as my Gaffer ever was, and more, and he's that wedded to those gardens...aye, and to his master and all..." She half-grinned at Rosie as she settled herself back down in the long grass, arranging her skirts carefully so that they rippled smoothly over her long legs. "There's better Gamgees, Rose Cotton."

Rosie laughed softly in her throat and shifted closer, her movements languid and unhurried in the shadowed warmth of dusk. Marigold lay still and watched lazily as Rosie rolled towards her, tracking the smooth motions of her sun-browned limbs and the soft smile that broadened as the distance between them grew smaller. "What better Gamgee could I find, Marigold?" Rosie asked softly, her voice thick with amusement.

"Oh, I don't know," Marigold confessed, raising a hand to twine her fingers idly through Rosie's curls, caught through with copper in the fading sunlight. "It depends, I suppose, on what it is you're looking for."

"Hmm." Rosie's brow darkened slightly, her face becoming pensive. "Well, there are so many things, Mari. All the best Gamgees have brown eyes." Her lips ghosted along the sharp curve of Marigold's cheekbone and up the bridge of her nose, brushing over an eyelid even as it fluttered closed. "Like yours. An eligible Gamgee must have eyes like yours."

Rosie shifted so that the soft fullness of her lower lip swept over Marigold's eyelashes, breath warm and sweet on the silk-soft skin between lower lid and cheekbone. "And of course he must have freckles." She pressed her mouth to where a faint scattering of light brown freckles dusted the rosy glow of Marigold's cheek. Marigold laughed breathlessly.

"And the Gamgee I want…" Rosie's hand swept gently up Marigold's side even as Marigold's own fingers slid down through the auburn-brown cascade of Rosie's hair to her shoulder, and then lower.

"Must what, Rosie?" Marigold prompted as Rosie's breath caught on a gasp, Marigold's hand tracing the dusky curve of her breast through the cotton of her blouse and rougher linen of her bodice.

"Must -" Rosie dipped her head to skim her lips over Marigold's, once, and then again as her fingers deftly tugged at the lacings of Marigold's dress. "Must have gold in his hair…"

Marigold felt Rosie's mouth soft and warm on her forehead, lips sliding upwards to kiss the gold-spun curls. She brushed her own mouth softly against Rosie's face. "Sam has all of those things," she pointed out, quietly. "Brown eyes and freckles, and the sun in his hair."

Rosie leaned away so that Marigold could see her, could see the gentle smile curving her mouth as the sun painted soft shadows over the curve of her neck and the line of her collarbone. "That he does, Mari, and I love him for it." She moved closer again, mouth soft as a whisper against Marigold's neck, gliding down over sun-kissed skin until her lips brushed the curve of Marigold's breast, nudging away the half-unlaced bodice with her nose. "But he doesn't have -"

Marigold giggled and tugged Rosie up by the hair, meshing their mouths together in a sweet tangle of apple and sunshine and laughter. Rosie pulled away after a long moment and smiled tenderly down at Marigold. "Come here," she said, softly, extricating an arm from the twined puzzle of their bodies to ease Marigold's head slightly to one side.

"What is it?" Marigold asked, her brow furrowed slightly in perplexity. "Have I something caught in my hair?"

Rosie smiled and drew her fingers languidly through Marigold's curls. "Yes," she whispered into a dusk that was quickly becoming darkness. "Sunshine." And she brought their lips together again, her tongue learning and relearning all the secret corners of Mari's familiar mouth as her hands slid up under the heavy multitude of skirts and petticoats. Marigold arched into the clever touch and let the darkness settle over them both, feeling the heat of the sun in Rosie's mouth.

**********END************




And now I feel content