desperate housewives rpf
Playing Pretend - Desperate Housewives RPF
Playing Pretend
Title: Playing Pretend
Fandom: Real Person Fiction
Pairings: Felicity Huffman/Doug Savant
Chapter: Part I
Rating: NC18
Disclaimer: Doug and Felicity meet again in the silence of a darkened studio to play pretend in the Scavo kitchen.

The Scavo kitchen was the perfect setting where Felicity Huffman could forget about Felicity Huffman and metamorphose into Lynette Scavo; where she didn’t feel the guilt tugging at her heartstrings and where William H. Macy wasn’t an effervescent presence in the back of her mind. Here she saw Parker, Porter, Preston and Penny not Georgia and Sofia. Here, it was Tom Scavo walking towards her on the darkened set not Doug Savant.

“Felicity…” Doug’s voice made her eyes close and she leaned back against the kitchen table. She was losing herself in this game of hers; she was playing pretend again and when she opened her eyes, her eyebrow lifted and her grin quirked at Doug.

“Tom.” It was final; her decision to play the part cemented in her tone. Doug tilted his head questioningly then a smile slowly crept on his rugged features. With a nod, he stepped up to her like he had practiced so many times before; his arm snuck around her and he pulled her close with the familiarity only reserved for husband and wife – but here, that’s what they were.

“…Lynette.” Doug kissed her then. Of their own accord, as if directed there, Felicity’s arms found their way around his neck. Gripping tightly, she pulled him closer into her and fell deeper into him. The bond there was just as warm with familiarity as it was with her off screen husband and yet the thrill of the forbidden was like the taste of chocolate on the back of your tongue; dark and delicious.

The studio was eerily silent and the cameras void of cameramen watched them perversely like blind eyes. They stared blankly as Felicity, playing her Lynette beautifully, hoisted herself up onto the kitchen table and wrapped her legs around Doug’s hips. Their glazed lenses mirrored the couple’s actions as Doug began to lay Felicity down on the table and they captured the moment when Felicity shook herself and pushed Doug off.

“Wait.” Spinning away from her coworker, Felicity pressed herself against the fridge with breathless confusion. Doug stayed still where he stood, watching her as if she were nervous prey being scouted by a predator. “Doug. What are we doing?” Looking down at her left hand, Felicity fingered her wedding band then looked over at Doug’s, whispering; “What are we doing?”

Doug saw her vulnerability; Felicity rarely showed the cracks in her armour but Doug was one of the only people she allowed to scale those crevices. Taking in the way her arms crossed and her fingers dug into her skin, he could tell she was battling demons. He may not have the years behind him but his relationship with Felicity often echoed that of hers and Bill Macy’s, playing an on screen husband means having a bond that is nearly just as unbreakable. Not to mention their chemistry was unmistakable. Counting on this to save him from making any errors in judgment, Doug Savant stepped over to Felicity and pulled her into his arms, silencing her fears with a kiss.

Drowning in his kiss, Felicity threw caution to the wind and dove deeper under scrambling for the rocks at the bottom of this particular ocean; in these moments she wanted to forget who she was and where she belonged. She wanted only to breathe her desires and become devoured by them. Her mouthed enthusiasm was Doug’s permission and he picked her up; automatically her legs locked around him as she was carried to the living room couch.

Felicity kissed him as if she were deprived, a starving beast insatiable and wild. Having always felt second to Sir William H. Macy’s first, Felicity had found Doug Savant an attractive equal. On the same playing field, perhaps even a level or two below her, Doug was someone Felicity felt didn’t tower over her regardless of their intention to do so or not.

“No.” Felicity tore her mouth away as Doug placed her on the couch and panting breathlessly, swept the props off the coffee table; “Not like husband and wife.”

...To Be Continued...

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