Let's Get This Party Started
I wrote a little ficlet for the "Fingertips" challenge that I'm still working on. (Yes, still.)
It's Nina/Michelle and a solid "R" I think.
Right now, it's untitled.
The music had a slow, steady bass, it was almost hypnotic. Through the beaded curtain, Michelle watched people on the dance floor. There was one couple that kept catching her eye, though she tried to look away. The woman was pressed against the wall, her leg wrapped around her partner's, her nails digging into his shoulder as their hips moved with the music.
Her head was swimming. Maybe it wasn't the music. Maybe it was the alcohol that still burned in her chest. Or maybe it was the trail of fire that followed Nina's fingertips as they moved up her inner thigh. She spread her legs a little further, guilty but still wanting more. She could feel Nina's lips curve into a smile against the hollow of her neck.
She was still terrified, her heart felt like it was louder than the music now. Michelle tried to tell herself that this was for the mission. Nina had information. This was nothing.
The heat of Nina's body against hers, her tongue brushing past Michelle's lips. (It's for the mission.) Her body arching as Nina's slick fingers went deeper. (It doesn't mean anything.) The way she gasped and moaned, barely caring who could hear. (I'm still in control.)
It's Nina/Michelle and a solid "R" I think.
Right now, it's untitled.
The music had a slow, steady bass, it was almost hypnotic. Through the beaded curtain, Michelle watched people on the dance floor. There was one couple that kept catching her eye, though she tried to look away. The woman was pressed against the wall, her leg wrapped around her partner's, her nails digging into his shoulder as their hips moved with the music.
Her head was swimming. Maybe it wasn't the music. Maybe it was the alcohol that still burned in her chest. Or maybe it was the trail of fire that followed Nina's fingertips as they moved up her inner thigh. She spread her legs a little further, guilty but still wanting more. She could feel Nina's lips curve into a smile against the hollow of her neck.
She was still terrified, her heart felt like it was louder than the music now. Michelle tried to tell herself that this was for the mission. Nina had information. This was nothing.
The heat of Nina's body against hers, her tongue brushing past Michelle's lips. (It's for the mission.) Her body arching as Nina's slick fingers went deeper. (It doesn't mean anything.) The way she gasped and moaned, barely caring who could hear. (I'm still in control.)