Damn You Look Good (and I'm Drunk)
Danneel Harris/Genevieve Cortese | NC-17 | written for purimgifts2012 at AO3
Jensen takes his best friend to a party, and the hostess is maybe really pretty.
fic is inspired by this post.
She's drunk. Danneel knows that she's kind of (really) drunk because Jensen isn't there and she thinks that the last time she saw him was a long time ago. At least half an hour. More likely an hour. She's sitting outside on a balcony while the slow beat of music with too much bass thumps through her blood. She knew she shouldn't have gone with Jensen to this party, knew that she didn't know any of his friends and that he'd probably dissappear with Jared at some point but she went anyway, and now she's too drunk in a strange place. And she's kissing a girl that she doesn't know, a girl with long hair that falls below her shoulder, a soft mouth and a softer body.
Her mouth goes slack. "What's my name again?" she asks, pulling back just a little to look at the girl she's kissing, blinking to try and focus the picture.
"Genevieve," she says, curving her fingers around her neck and pulling her down for another kiss. The girl - Genevieve - is small, but Danneel likes the pixie-like quality of her. She slips her fingers up her back, feels satiny fabric shifting under her fingers as they press along straps and across her shoulder blades. They tense and then ease; her skin is smooth, soft. Danneel thinks it smells like cinnamon.
Breaking away to investigate, she noses across her jawline, tongue flicking out to taste at her skin. Genevieve makes a soft breathy noise (Danneel's favorite kind) as her lips brush behind her ear, teeth scraping to see if she can get a better soundtrack. It works, and she does it again and again until a small hand is closing and tightening around her wrist and she has a voice in her ear: My room is upstairs.
It hasn't hit her until now, but this is the hostess: Jared's friend Genevieve, who extended an invite to Jensen and then to Danneel at some pestering. She goes with her, passing by a filled dancefloor, a table littered with empty red cups and a sofa with three couples on it, making out like they're alone. Genevieve leads her up the stairs, doesn't stop except for to push her against a wall and kiss her, knocking a picture askew in the process.
"It's this one," she saysm leaning against a door at the end of the hall. Danneel leans down to kiss her, but Gen's hand is on the doorknob and they swing forwards, managing to kick the door shut and then the light from the hallway is blocked out and they're left in semi-darkness.
There's a moment where they just look at each other, and then Genevieve practically tackles her, pushing her on the bed and straddling her. She kisses like her life depends on it; like she means it and wants it with every fiber of her being. Danneel gives as good as she gets, surging up and licking into her mouth. She cups her face, fingertips in the edges of her hair.
"Yeah," she says, or maybe it's Gen, but it doesn't really matter because then she's drawing back and pulling her dress over her head and Danneel has a woman with lacy black lingerie in her lap, miles of skin for her to touch. Not until she's pushed her down so she's on her back does she realize that she's still wearing heels - black stilettos at least nine inches high.
Gen makes to take them off, but then "No, leave them on." Danneel looks at her through predatory eyes, unzips her strapless dress and pulls it off, all while shifting down and nudging her legs open. Pulling black lace to the side, Danneel licks over her once, twice, these long and slow passes of tongue that make Genevieve push her head back and make the most beautiful sounds.
It's the noises that push her forward, always has been. Danneel has a thing for sounds, gets off on hearing other people getting off. She lifts her head, looks up at Genevieve while she slides her index and middle finger through slickwet and then into her, rubbing her thumb slowly over her clit. Her thighs shake hard when she lowers her head again, pushing her tongue in as she pulls her fingers out.
"God - Danneel, fuck." Her eyes lift to look at Genevieve again, one hand toying with her nipples and the other twisted in the sheets. She shifts her hips restlessly, and all it takes is a scrape of teeth against her clit and she's falling apart. There's a moment where they're both still, and then Genevieve is up and pushing Danneel down to where she had been seconds before. "Lemme just -" she says, leaning down and swiping her tongue across her nipple, catching it in between her teeth.
Afterwards, when Genevieve has found a tanktop on the floor and Danneel her underear, the music has slowly ebbed down. "I don't usually do this," she says, rolling over so that she's facing the taller girl.
"What?"
"You know what I meant." Genevieve rolls her eyes.
Danneel bites her lip against a smile. "Are you saying I'm the exception?"
"Something like that." A quiet moment, and Genevieve leans forwards to kiss her, soft and slow and unlike the others from before. "You wanna stay the night?"
Jensen takes his best friend to a party, and the hostess is maybe really pretty.
fic is inspired by this post.
She's drunk. Danneel knows that she's kind of (really) drunk because Jensen isn't there and she thinks that the last time she saw him was a long time ago. At least half an hour. More likely an hour. She's sitting outside on a balcony while the slow beat of music with too much bass thumps through her blood. She knew she shouldn't have gone with Jensen to this party, knew that she didn't know any of his friends and that he'd probably dissappear with Jared at some point but she went anyway, and now she's too drunk in a strange place. And she's kissing a girl that she doesn't know, a girl with long hair that falls below her shoulder, a soft mouth and a softer body.
Her mouth goes slack. "What's my name again?" she asks, pulling back just a little to look at the girl she's kissing, blinking to try and focus the picture.
"Genevieve," she says, curving her fingers around her neck and pulling her down for another kiss. The girl - Genevieve - is small, but Danneel likes the pixie-like quality of her. She slips her fingers up her back, feels satiny fabric shifting under her fingers as they press along straps and across her shoulder blades. They tense and then ease; her skin is smooth, soft. Danneel thinks it smells like cinnamon.
Breaking away to investigate, she noses across her jawline, tongue flicking out to taste at her skin. Genevieve makes a soft breathy noise (Danneel's favorite kind) as her lips brush behind her ear, teeth scraping to see if she can get a better soundtrack. It works, and she does it again and again until a small hand is closing and tightening around her wrist and she has a voice in her ear: My room is upstairs.
It hasn't hit her until now, but this is the hostess: Jared's friend Genevieve, who extended an invite to Jensen and then to Danneel at some pestering. She goes with her, passing by a filled dancefloor, a table littered with empty red cups and a sofa with three couples on it, making out like they're alone. Genevieve leads her up the stairs, doesn't stop except for to push her against a wall and kiss her, knocking a picture askew in the process.
"It's this one," she saysm leaning against a door at the end of the hall. Danneel leans down to kiss her, but Gen's hand is on the doorknob and they swing forwards, managing to kick the door shut and then the light from the hallway is blocked out and they're left in semi-darkness.
There's a moment where they just look at each other, and then Genevieve practically tackles her, pushing her on the bed and straddling her. She kisses like her life depends on it; like she means it and wants it with every fiber of her being. Danneel gives as good as she gets, surging up and licking into her mouth. She cups her face, fingertips in the edges of her hair.
"Yeah," she says, or maybe it's Gen, but it doesn't really matter because then she's drawing back and pulling her dress over her head and Danneel has a woman with lacy black lingerie in her lap, miles of skin for her to touch. Not until she's pushed her down so she's on her back does she realize that she's still wearing heels - black stilettos at least nine inches high.
Gen makes to take them off, but then "No, leave them on." Danneel looks at her through predatory eyes, unzips her strapless dress and pulls it off, all while shifting down and nudging her legs open. Pulling black lace to the side, Danneel licks over her once, twice, these long and slow passes of tongue that make Genevieve push her head back and make the most beautiful sounds.
It's the noises that push her forward, always has been. Danneel has a thing for sounds, gets off on hearing other people getting off. She lifts her head, looks up at Genevieve while she slides her index and middle finger through slickwet and then into her, rubbing her thumb slowly over her clit. Her thighs shake hard when she lowers her head again, pushing her tongue in as she pulls her fingers out.
"God - Danneel, fuck." Her eyes lift to look at Genevieve again, one hand toying with her nipples and the other twisted in the sheets. She shifts her hips restlessly, and all it takes is a scrape of teeth against her clit and she's falling apart. There's a moment where they're both still, and then Genevieve is up and pushing Danneel down to where she had been seconds before. "Lemme just -" she says, leaning down and swiping her tongue across her nipple, catching it in between her teeth.
Afterwards, when Genevieve has found a tanktop on the floor and Danneel her underear, the music has slowly ebbed down. "I don't usually do this," she says, rolling over so that she's facing the taller girl.
"What?"
"You know what I meant." Genevieve rolls her eyes.
Danneel bites her lip against a smile. "Are you saying I'm the exception?"
"Something like that." A quiet moment, and Genevieve leans forwards to kiss her, soft and slow and unlike the others from before. "You wanna stay the night?"