Title: I Told You So
Fandom: Ace Attorney.
Spoilers: Nothing specific.
Pairing(s): Adrian Andrews/Franziska von Karma.
Genre: PWP.
Contains/Rating: Suit!Franziska. Public, under-the-table groping. Bathroom sex. NC-17.
Notes: Written for and inspired by Paru Na, who drew me what can only be described as the ultimate suit!Franziska. I just looked at that undone bow-tie and was like... okay, so Adrian totally undid that. Also, my Adrian has a somewhat chequered history with champagne, which, um, yeah... :3 Probably makes no sense to anyone but me, eh? I just hope you like this even a tiny bit as much as I loved Suit!Fran, Paru, even though I know that's sort of impossible <3
Summary: Franziska wears a suit. Adrian thinks it's hot. She's not wrong.

She had sworn off champagne.

That's what she tries to remind herself as yet another tray appears at their table, loaded with elegant flutes filled to the brim. Franziska deftly selects two, sliding one into Adrian's hand with a roguish smirk that very nearly has Adrian swallowing her own tongue.

"You are all right?" she mutters throatily, her mouth close to Adrian's ear. The voices and laughter around them are rapidly becoming raucous, but Franziska barely even has to fight to be heard, her face is so near to Adrian's. Adrian nods shyly, squeezing Franziska's hand in her own under the table.

"I just wish I spoke better German!" she says, with a soft, embarrassed laugh.

"I am glad that you don't," Franziska replies in a sardonic whisper, nodding politely at an exceptionally red-faced man opposite her over her champagne flute before averting her eyes back to Adrian. "Believe me," she mutters, "at this very moment I would kiss Winston Payne if it meant I didn't have to interact with these foolish drunkards."

Adrian splutters into her own glass, and Franziska narrows her eyes. "Stop imagining me kissing Winston Payne, I beg you."

"You started it!"

Franziska purses her lips, but before she can respond the woman at her side is talking loudly about her father, and she turns away, squeezing Adrian's fingers in apology. Adrian returns the gesture, taking a sip of her champagne. It's probably the most expensive thing she has ever had the misfortune to drink - goodness, how she hates champagne - but the bubbles slide smoothly down her throat, and she is surprised at how relaxed she feels, even though she can't understand half the things people have been saying to her. Maybe that's even why, she thinks, and smiles to herself, watching Franziska converse animatedly with the woman next to her, a statuesque, middle-aged blonde who Adrian can't help but feel she's seen on television at some point. She doesn't know what the conversation has drifted to, but she hears the word "fool" in German more than once - one of the few phrases she recognises quite easily in many of its forms. Her smile widens, and she hides it behind her champagne, allowing herself some time to just watch.

It's in moments like these that she has to remind herself that she's really here with Franziska. She sees the looks people give her girlfriend sometimes: that mingled combination of fear, intrigue and grudging admiration, almost always cut off at their first emergence by a well-placed crack of her whip in their general direction. In the braver - or, she supposes, more foolhardy - people, she has even seen a look she recognises only too well, much to her dismay: pure, unashamed lust. Adrian doesn't begrudge them that, even going so far as to feel slightly sympathetic about the world of pain they are unwittingly letting themselves in for, but nevertheless she'd much rather she didn't have to see it.

She is really not used to feeling an emotion so crude as jealousy, after all.

At the same time, though, she knows that same look must show on her own face sometimes, no matter how she tries to hide it. Particularly tonight, with Franziska dressed as she is. When she came out of the bathroom, adjusting that tie... oh dear god, it was all Adrian could do not to take matters into her own hands right there and then. Franziska, knowing as ever, had actually laughed at the look on her face then, raising an eyebrow as if to say, "Well, what are you going to do about it?"

The challenge hasn't left her mind all evening. Indeed, it almost overtakes her now, as she lets her gaze drift to the place where crisp black fabric meets the ivory-white softness of Franziska's throat. She swallows hard when a few strands of flickering blue fire flutter over the collar as Franziska moves, her fingers almost aching with the desire to brush them away. It is only when Franziska's hand detaches from hers under the table, shifting sinuously to rest on Adrian's thigh, that she realises she must have squeezed her fingers just a little too tellingly.

She finds herself taking back her wish for proficiency in the German language when the hand starts to move, kneading perfect, smooth circles through her dress; the very last thing she needs at this precise moment is someone wanting to engage her in conversation. Franziska's face is angled carefully away from her, posture betraying nothing more than complete engagement in the other woman's words, but Adrian cannot mistake the cool, leather-clad fingers that linger briefly at the hem of her dress, the contact with her bare skin maddening in its fleeting briefness. Franziska is laughing now, deep and carefree, and Adrian decides abruptly that she is not having one bit of this.

Taking a carefully measured sip of champagne for courage, she decides what her answer to Franziska's unspoken challenge will be.

Franziska doesn't react at first, though Adrian imagines she sees her lower lashes flicker slightly, the tiniest of visible signs telling Adrian that yes, she has noticed that her own hand is not the only one misbehaving, thank you very much. Adrian allows herself a small, pleased smile, shifting slightly in her seat as her hands find the zip of Franziska's formal pants. She doesn't move to undo them, merely letting the heel of her palm graze against the material, the pressure just enough that she feels Franziska's leg jerk ever so slightly.

The conversation is still flowing relentlessly, but even as her face and words are still studiously directed at the other diner, Adrian knows that the rest of Franziska is giving itself over to her with every further roll of her palm. It must be beyond frustrating - she is controlling the pressure meticulously, careful to never allow either too much closeness or too little, but with the position being as it is she is well aware she will never be able to properly find the place Franziska must so want her to. It almost makes her feel guilty.

Almost, that is, until Franziska's hand rises to the occasion, a set of nimble, gloved fingers slipping surreptitiously under her dress. Adrian can't stifle a gasp of surprise, and the guilt dissolves into something entirely different.

She thinks it might be a kind of madness.

---

Neither of them will admit to breaking first, of course. The way they rise in unison - Franziska feeding their fellow diners a characteristically terse excuse that Adrian doesn't even try to understand - makes it seem almost like a mutual decision, but the manner in which Franziska takes Adrian's hand in a vice-like grip and hurries her off to the nearest unoccupied bathroom tells an entirely different story.

She is pushing Adrian back against a counter-top as soon as the door is locked, her lips colliding bruisingly with the blonde's jaw.

"Do you know how hard it was to keep up the pretense of interest with you doing that?" Franziska mutters fiercely, her pupils blown wide in the soft, dim light of the bathroom. Adrian smiles serenely, unable to hold back a chuckle. Her fingers are tangled up in the loops of that bow-tie she has had her eyes on all evening, and she uses her advantage to bring Franziska's lips to hers.

"But it was fun, wasn't it?"

Franziska lets out a growl, but Adrian barely hears it over the overwhelming sound of Franziska hurriedly pulling up her dress, carelessly rolling up the blush-red silk taffeta until her fingers are grasping the top of Adrian's thighs for purchase. Adrian stills, pressing a hand over Franziska's.

"Wait a moment - I have an idea."

"Oh, wonderful," Franziska grumbles breathlessly, but her movements cease all the same, and she raises an expectant eyebrow. "Well?"

"You'll like it, I promise," Adrian says patiently, biting back a smile. She presses light fingers to Franziska's cheek, guiding her gaze back over her shoulder. "Look."

"That's a chair, Adrian Andrews," Franziska replies, running a disdainful, matter-of-fact eye over the upholstered seat beside the counter. "Why, precisely, should I be looking at it?"

"Well, I was more suggesting that you should be sitting on it, to be quite honest..."

Franziska's grip on her tightens, although her brow remains furrowed - a clear sign that she isn't quite ready to admit Adrian's idea might have some merits just yet. "Are you aware how filthy that thing probably is? The only way you will convince me to sit on it is if I can test it with Luminol first."

Adrian laughs. "Do you even have any Luminol with you?"

"Hmph. Spoil-sport."

Adrian just gives her a warm, teasing smile, smoothing the shoulders of the fitted jacket tenderly with the flat of her palms before bringing them back up to adjust the tie. "You could put your jacket on it?" She tilts her head, considering, and when she speaks again she is sure she isn't imagining the faintly wicked tone her own voice has taken on. "Or I suppose I could probably put my dress on it, if you don't want to get your jacket dirty...?"

Franziska rolls her eyes as she shrugs off her jacket with Adrian's eager assistance, the blonde laying it over the chair with care before guiding Franziska back onto it. "Don't think this means you are going to be wearing that foolish dress for much longer, Adrian Andrews. I just happen to know how much that particular outfit cost..." She trails off when Adrian slides the clip from her hair, biting her lip against a shy smile as she looks down at Franziska through the loose curls she spent so long arranging for this evening. A pleasant warmth creeps up her neck, and before she knows it Franziska has dragged her bodily onto her lap.

"I knew you'd like it," Adrian murmurs against her lips, chuckling when Franziska's only response is an unwilling grumble as her hands rake their way to the back of Adrian's dress, tugging the fastenings free in one impatient movement. Silk tumbles down around her waist, and she should be cold, but fortunately Franziska immediately sets to work at making such a thing quite wonderfully impossible.

"This is a little unfair, you know," she muses after a few moments, tugging at Franziska's collar to get her attention.

"How so?"

"Well," Adrian begins, smiling slightly as she threads her fingers through Franziska's hair, bringing her flushed face back up to hers. "You have me at quite the disadvantage, wouldn't you say? I'm half naked in a public bathroom, whereas you... well. If you were any more dressed, it would be obscene."

"Only a fool complains about something they could quite easily rectify," Franziska retorts testily, raising an eyebrow. Her expression displays quite plainly the challenge in her words. Adrian's smile widens, and she plucks thoughtfully at the bow-tie.

"Hmm. I suppose you're right."

And she leans down, trailing her way along the curve of Franziska's throat, before taking the tip of the tie in her teeth and tugging lightly. It's marginally more complicated than she had foreseen, but with the addition of her fingers the strip of material eventually admits defeat; she pulls it taut between her hands, producing a pleasing snap, which makes Franziska snort.

"Satisfied?"

"No, not quite."

Adrian's hands slip to Franziska's waist, pulling free the hem of her neatly tucked-in shirt from under the waistcoat. As she does so, Franziska tilts her hips up to meet Adrian's, apparently attempting to speed the process along, but succeeding only in putting her completely off her stride; the sensitivity between her legs becomes near impossible to ignore at the contact, and she groans quietly, biting her lip once more.

"You should probably take those pants off soon, you know," she admits, her smile now more than a little sheepish. Franziska tuts lightly, but with a rather deliberate graze of her thigh in between Adrian's, they both stop caring. Franziska's deceptively willowy arms fold themselves sturdily around Adrian's back, holding her so close she can feel each and every gentle huff of Franziska's hitching breath on her neck as she shifts herself awkwardly into a better position over her thigh.

"My brilliant idea is beginning to feel slightly less brilliant," Adrian says, laughing shakily into the crook of Franziska's neck as she grips the back of the chair in an attempt to remain upright. "Maybe we should consider relocating - ?"

"Oh, no, Adrian Andrews," Franziska mutters firmly, with a pertinent upwards thrust of her hips, eliciting an unbidden whimper from Adrian. "Foolish though your idea may have proven to be, I absolutely refuse to wait a moment longer. And quite apart from that..." she runs a glove over Adrian's bare leg, easing it further around her hip, "...I'm actually rather enjoying it."

Another pointed shifting of her thigh, and Adrian gives in, pushing her own hips back against Franziska with a sigh. The sensation is just as frustratingly erratic as it must have been for Franziska, but for some reason that makes it all the more intoxicating - the nearness of feeling, interspersed with desperate, pleading moments of near fire, send her body into a frenzy, and within minutes she has her forehead pressed hard to Franziska's, eyes squeezed tight and grasping hands wearing ruts in her girlfriend's shoulders.

A little gasp breaks the spell only for a moment: Franziska has her hand between them, she realises, and with a murmured, breathless apology she pushes her away, sliding her own fingers awkwardly past the material of Franziska's clothing and into her underwear, finally finding the familiar place and setting up a workable rhythm. Franziska's jaw tenses - and that won't do at all, but fortunately Adrian knows just how to get her to let go, the perfect little upwards curve of her fingers - and then a hiss is tumbling from her lips, her grip on Adrian's back becoming quite punishing in its fierceness.

Owing to the directness of the contact, it surprises neither of them when Franziska breaks first, canting her hips up off the chair and onto Adrian's fingers so violently they both almost topple to the floor. The only thing keeping them upright is Franziska's sheer force of will, because even as her head is tipped back, a strangled groan issuing from her lips, her hands are unwavering in their steady, almost painful hold on Adrian, who presses a gentle kiss to Franziska's open mouth, smothering the noise with her own lips.

The feel of Franziska tight around her hand is nearly enough to finish her completely, but when Franziska kisses her back, a lazy hand drifting around her torso to brush newly-warmed leather over her nipple, she knows she is gone. Clinging to Franziska for support, one last cursory buck of her hips is all it takes to send her spiralling, writhing and gasping against the other woman until they are both, finally, quiet.

Adrian moves first, shifting cautiously backwards in Franziska's lap to survey the damage.

"Oh my." She is far beyond blushing, with her skin already radiating a warmth that has everything to do with the Prosecutor beneath her, but she puts an apologetic hand to her chest all the same, smiling unsteadily. "Well, I did suggest that you take them off..."

Franziska tuts, grimacing at the space between them. Her hair is damp, pressed to her skin where Adrian's forehead was resting moments earlier, and Adrian reaches out to brush it away fondly. "'I told you so' is not going to clean that up, is it, Adrian Andrews?"

"Now, don't put words in my mouth. I never actually said 'I told you so', did I?" Adrian protests, but her smile becomes sheepish as she ducks her head, smoothing the dress back into place with one hand before fumbling behind her for the clasps. Franziska harrumphes impatiently, reaching around to bat Adrian's hands away and fix the fastenings herself.

"I could call our driver now, I suppose..." she says thoughtfully. Adrian looks up, and she can't mistake the slight curve of a smile at the corner of Franziska's lips. "It's a little earlier than we had planned, which would leave us with some time to fill, but I'm sure we can think of some activities in the mean time... that is, if you aren't tired?" The smile comes to full fruition now, taking on all the qualities of a smirk in the process. Adrian raises an eyebrow.

"Tired? Oh, no. You're going to need to try harder than that, Franziska von Karma." Reaching over the back of the chair, she produces the discarded bow-tie and, with a small, playful smile, threads it loosely back through Franziska's collar. "Starting, I think, with coming up with some new and interesting uses for this..."

--
fin
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