"Toyfriend" MileyCyrus/KristenStewart, T
Title: "Toyfriend"
Fandom: RPF
Pairing: Miley Cyrus/Kristen Stewart
Rating: T
Words: ~2500
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, borrowing real people's personas based on my personal perceptions of them. Not intended for profit or offense.
Note: SO, in case y'all don't know, Miley sometimes does a delicious Joan Jett Medley during her shows. Its hot. Kristen has played Joan Jett in The Runaways, AND enjoys Miley's songs "Party in the USA" and "The Climb."
For me, that's plenty enough reasons to ship them. So, Ta-da.
“I’m not going out there.”
“What? Don’t be such a pussy, ya gotta leave sometime.”
The velvet drapes sway as the hand previously holding them aside to give a view to the street outside leaves and goes to run through mussed dark brown hair. “I’m not going out there. Not with all of them out there. Circling like sharks.”
“They’ll eat you alive, yada yada. Just throw a jacket over your head and push.”
“I don't wanna have to push through a crowd for the rest of my life to get where I need to go.”
Miley shoots her a condescending look before going back to chewing her piece of bubblegum, and fires out a text to somebody on her phone. “You and me had it coming, hun, no going back on it now,” she adds with a pop of her gum.
Kristen scoffs and shrugs her bag strap higher on her shoulder, her eyes still drawn to the curtained window separating her and the half dozen paparazzi flashing lights prowling the midday sidewalk. “Can’t we go out the back?”
“What’s the big deal, it’s just a short walk to the car. You embarrassed to be seen with me? Eh, that it?” Miley nudges her with her elbow.
“I’m just sick of it all, honestly. I wish we had just stayed in like we planned.”
“There’s no food at your house, girl! Besides I had a craving for crème brùlèe, and I didn’t see you complaining while you had that chocolate lava explosion thing in your mouth.”
Kristen grumbles and moves toward the bar, craning her neck to see any other exits through the kitchen or next to the bathrooms.
“I think you’re paranoid.” Miley says, coming up from behind her and poking her sides in jest.
“I think you like the attention,” Kristen fires back, but with a small smile to her bite.
Miley smirks in a suggestive manner and leans back, a motion that emphasizes her chest and the low cut shirt that is exposing the top of her intricate lace bra to the air conditioned restaurant. Kristen can see bumps rise on the skin in the dim light. Miley lifts her eyebrows to catch Kristen’s attention, her mirthful eyes teasing.
“Well, they must know one of us is here anyway, so it really doesn’t -“ a guitar riff erupts from Miley’s cell phone, she checks the text message, “ - matter anyway. But I like playing secret getaway. I’ll get ya outta here.”
And with that Miley struts off toward the bartender, leaning almost enticingly over the counter, her fingers tapping a busy rhythm that her hips echo slightly, and Kristen just can’t look away. She smiles, she laughs, she tosses her hair, she gets her way. Soon she’s waving Kristen over and following the bartender past the kitchen to a door near the back, marked “Employees Only.”
Miley waits till Kristen catches up, hooking her arm in hers and tugging along the older girl gently. “There’s an employee elevator that goes up to the second floor, where we can cross to the parking garage next door.”
“Ah,” Kristen nods, playing with her hair so that the fringe falls back from her eyes. “Kinda sketchy back here, though, right?” She mumbles as they pass a flickering hall light.
“Nah, sets the mood for our the getaway!”
“There has to be a mood?”
“I’m always in a mood, honey.” Miley winks over her shoulder.
The employee opens the door to revel a stock elevator behind a grate. Sliding it open he says, “It’s just out the door to left, the door to the parking garage is our second fire escape, so it’s always open.” Miley smiles and runs a hand over his bicep, “Thanks so much, Stevie. See ya around.”
When the grates close and the elevator shifts into motion, Kristen asks, “You know him?”
Miley fires off another text and shakes her shoulder-length hair absently, “Nah, but you learn to make friends, right? Nametags are also a great help.”
Kristen rolls her eyes and slides open the grate when the elevator stops. Opening the door with the big red “EXIT” written on it in paint leads them out onto a metal causeway, just a few feet away from the door adjoining the parking garage to the restaurant’s building. Miley leans out over the side, popping her gum and trying to catch a glimpse of the cameras milling about the sidewalk.
“Hey watch it!” Kristen comes up behind her and grabs her sides, holding her body close, away from the ledge.
“Chill out, I’m just checking if they’re watching the entrance still,” Miley laughs, putting her hands over Kristen’s on her hips, and swaying jovially. She looks over her shoulder, under her lashes at Kristen, a smile soft yet tantalizing on her lips.
“You wanna get caught?” Kristen asks. Her hands sneak a bit higher, a bit more forward, so they rest on Miley’s stomach. Despite her paparazzi paranoia, her tone displays a playful lilt.
“I like having secrets,” Miley replies. She pretends to nip at Kristen’s nose, then raunchily grabs the older girl’s hands and places them on her breasts, shaking her chest a little in her grip. Kristen laughs and pushes her away, but grabs her hand and drags her to the large brown door leading to the garage. Once inside, they quickly run down the ramps and sneak around the corner, wary of any watchful flashes of light or shouts of questions. Around the corner block they come to Kristen’s car, parked at a meter and almost out of time. Miley keeps a firm grip on her hand the whole way.
Miley erupts in infectious giggles when her car door slams and Kristen peels out of the parking spot. Feeling like they just got away with some sort of crime, Kristen lets out a few giggles herself and races down the streets to the freeway. The CD player is running a Blackhearts album, and Miley shakes her wild hair every now and then to the sounds of a bass drum cacophony, her feet stomping and her hands playing imaginary instruments, until Kristen smiles her way and shakes her head a little too. With the window down, Miley rolls her hand over the wind, not fighting it, but riding the current and commanding it’s flow. Kristen admires the way Miley can lose herself in moments like this, even though she’s got crazy things like fans and paparazzi and that whole “role model” thing jumping at her from every corner. She’s free even in her captivity, and that’s something both attractive and foreign and to the older actress.
Finally pulling into her driveway, Kristen parks her car next to Miley’s and pulls up on the parking brake. She always gets a bit awkward when it comes to asking people inside her home, because it always sounds illicit in her mind. She stutters a bit, “You uh - you wanna come up? Or, inside I mean?” She cringes mentally.
Miley shifts to address her and places her hand over Kristen’s on the parking brake. “Sure,” she adds a squeeze and a playful smile. Kristen laughs under her breath at her lack of cool, and trudges out of the car, shutting the door with her shoe and shrugging in her black band t-shirt. Miley runs her hands through her light hair, flipping and tossing it in the afternoon breeze as Kristen fumbles in her bag for her keys, finally opening the door and toeing off her shoes.
Plopping down into the plush gray couch, Kristen flicks on the television, set to a rhapsody channel, and brings up a box hidden underneath the table. Miley lays her bag down on the floor and scootches closer to Kristen, so that her thighs are touching Kristen’s jean-clad legs.
Lifting the top of the wooden box reveals a small glass multi-colored pipe and a few plastic bags with miniature marijuana leaves printed on the side. Kristen coughs to clear her throat, “I don’t have much left, been a while since I called Luda for a restock. But there’s enough for the two of us, I think.” Miley nods while looking through channels to find a dance station, “It’s ok, I don’t want any. I’m leaving in a bit anyway.”
“Oh. You are?” Kristen stops filling her pipe with what little weed she has left. She cringes when she realizes it sounded desperate.
“Kinda, but don’t worry, you have fun.”
“Oh well, no I mean I - I don't wanna be a bad host, we can do something else,” Kristen puts the pipe down and shifts uncomfortably on the couch, her eyes searching the room for something intriguing enough to keep the rebel pop star interested in staying. Maybe a dvd, or something on HBO…
“No girl, chillax, it’s cool. I’m down for whatever -“ Miley tries, her hands reaching for Kristen when the other girl starts to stand up.
“We can play video games or something, I think Taylor left one of his fighting games here last time, or..like, we can listen to music, or -“
“Honey, honey!” Miley’s southern hospitality tone comes out when she grabs Kristen’s hand and tugs her back to the couch. “We've got music right here, everything’s just fine.”
“Yea but, you’re not -“
Miley gets a look that suggests she’s thinking “silly girl” in her head, and Kristen would normally be a little put off by that, but when Miley reaches over and takes the pipe from the table, the older girl can only watch. Miley taps the weed securely into the pipe, then leans over and puts the pipe against Kristen’s lips. Grabbing the metal lighter with a smile, Miley lights Kristen up and watches as she takes the hit with a deep breath, her pale cheeks noticeably red, maybe from something more than the smoke. Kristen breathes out an acrid cloud of burn and struggles not to cough at the hot sensation in her throat. She closes her eyes and nods, her hair falling in front of her face and her hand waving to Miley in a sort of “thanks” gesture.
There’s really not much left of the bowl. Miley seems to have changed her mind about leaving so soon because she’s kicking off her boots and curling up closer to Kristen on the couch, bringing the pipe to her own lips and tapping the side with the lighter, trying to get the ash to separate, then lights up herself, taking a deep breath and holding it in with her powerful singer lungs. She coughs too, and her eyes tear a little when her smoke cloud blows back a bit in her face, but she smiles and giggles, and Kristen wonders in the back of her head why she’s so uptight around this playful young girl, why she can’t just go with the flow like she does.
“There ya go. Now ya can’t feel guilty.” Miley hands the pipe and lighter back to Kristen, who takes another slow hit, finishing the bowl. Miley takes both from her, her fingers just grazing the girl’s cheeks, and puts them down with a slight “clang” against the tabletop. Miley then snaps her fingers and rolls her shoulders slightly in time with the David Guetta song flowing from the television. She dances in her seat and acts all the part of raunchy flirty teenager while Kristen lays back and finally stops fidgeting with her hair. She’s only spent time with Miley on a few occasions before this, but she realizes, once her mind is in a comfortable light haze, that she could totally, like, just hang out with Miley, and it’s all cool. She really doesn’t need to try to impress the girl, even though she thought they had like, zero things in common, other than a similar taste in music and the Joan Jett thing. Miley seems to bring a good time wherever she goes. And Kristen is into that.
Miley sings along with the female vocalist on the dance track and inches closer to Kristen, reaching up to the ceiling on her knees, her shirt lifting just above the beltline of her jean shorts, her hands twirling in the hair before wresting themselves in her brightly highlighted hair. She shakes her head from side to side and lifts her hips up and down with each hard beat of the bass.
Suddenly Kristen realizes this is a lap dance, but by the time she does, Miley’s already fallen forward onto her chest and is inches from her face, her eyes dark and hidden beneath long full lashes. When Kristen had called to hang out with Miley, she hadn’t planned for them to be doing this, again, but she can’t help herself, again. The older girl lifts her hands to Miley’s undulating sides, still dancing atop her, and licks her lips in preparation. Miley holds herself up with one hand above Kristen, and with the other gathers as much of her soft highlighted hair as she can and moves it out of her face to hold against the back of her head. Kristen takes the opportunity and lifts her head to meet Miley’s lips, sucking her mouth closer and lifting her hips to get more comfortable on the couch. Miley’s legs fall in between Kristen’s and her hand lets go of her mass of hair to run through Kristen’s darker locks, tracing the side of her face with her thumb with each run.
Kristen’s lips tingle from Miley’s minty gum she was chewing earlier, and her throat tickles from the hits. Moving her hands from Miley’s sides to her backside, Kristen indulges in the belt loops of Miley’s shorts, slipping her fingers in and tugging up, bringing Miley closer in a rough thrust. Miley giggles in that adult way she has sometimes and repeats the motion of her own volition, slow but powerful against Kristen’s hips. Kristen is turned on for sure, but she relaxes into the couch and sighs into Miley’s mouth, completely comfortable in a way she never really is outside closed doors.
The younger girl slides from the brunette’s lips to her chin, and dips along her jaw line to explore the skin of her neck. Kristen moves her hands from Miley’s backside to the space she’s created between them, slipping beneath her flimsy white shirt to rub over her lace bra and trace the skin beneath her underwire. Kristen clears her throat with a rumbling cough and says quietly, “I thought you were gonna leave soon?”
Miley speaks in between kisses, “Meeeh, I was - But it’s - much easier - to make out with you - when you’re -“ Miley looks up with a “partner-in-crime” smirk here, “ - a little high.”
“Oh really? Have you noticed that?” Kristen smirks.
“Yea, and I wasn’t gonna leave early without getting some action, duh.” Miley dips down for a deliciously drawn out, wet, succulent kiss. Kristen moans quietly just as Miley pulls away, “So, you’re staying?”
“Ha, I’m kinda obsessed wit cha, remember?” Miley quotes from an interview she once did.
Kristen smiles and plays along, “And I just love your music. I really do.”
Miley laughs her loud and deep laugh. Kristen smiles brightly. Entwining her fingers with the young star’s, Kristen moves in for another kiss, then falls back to the arm rest, enticing Miley to chase after her lips.
It’s really nice having a friend to play with like this.
~fin~
So i wasn't too focused when I wrote this one, I think I was trying to establish more of the WHY ON EARTH they could be shipped part, rather than tell a story. So.... idk I might wanna try an AU where they're more Joan Jett-ized cuz that's the underlying hotness factor between them. But probably not because I'm very lazy. SO this end note is kinda useless. Oh well.
Thanks for reading.
Fandom: RPF
Pairing: Miley Cyrus/Kristen Stewart
Rating: T
Words: ~2500
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, borrowing real people's personas based on my personal perceptions of them. Not intended for profit or offense.
Note: SO, in case y'all don't know, Miley sometimes does a delicious Joan Jett Medley during her shows. Its hot. Kristen has played Joan Jett in The Runaways, AND enjoys Miley's songs "Party in the USA" and "The Climb."
For me, that's plenty enough reasons to ship them. So, Ta-da.
“I’m not going out there.”
“What? Don’t be such a pussy, ya gotta leave sometime.”
The velvet drapes sway as the hand previously holding them aside to give a view to the street outside leaves and goes to run through mussed dark brown hair. “I’m not going out there. Not with all of them out there. Circling like sharks.”
“They’ll eat you alive, yada yada. Just throw a jacket over your head and push.”
“I don't wanna have to push through a crowd for the rest of my life to get where I need to go.”
Miley shoots her a condescending look before going back to chewing her piece of bubblegum, and fires out a text to somebody on her phone. “You and me had it coming, hun, no going back on it now,” she adds with a pop of her gum.
Kristen scoffs and shrugs her bag strap higher on her shoulder, her eyes still drawn to the curtained window separating her and the half dozen paparazzi flashing lights prowling the midday sidewalk. “Can’t we go out the back?”
“What’s the big deal, it’s just a short walk to the car. You embarrassed to be seen with me? Eh, that it?” Miley nudges her with her elbow.
“I’m just sick of it all, honestly. I wish we had just stayed in like we planned.”
“There’s no food at your house, girl! Besides I had a craving for crème brùlèe, and I didn’t see you complaining while you had that chocolate lava explosion thing in your mouth.”
Kristen grumbles and moves toward the bar, craning her neck to see any other exits through the kitchen or next to the bathrooms.
“I think you’re paranoid.” Miley says, coming up from behind her and poking her sides in jest.
“I think you like the attention,” Kristen fires back, but with a small smile to her bite.
Miley smirks in a suggestive manner and leans back, a motion that emphasizes her chest and the low cut shirt that is exposing the top of her intricate lace bra to the air conditioned restaurant. Kristen can see bumps rise on the skin in the dim light. Miley lifts her eyebrows to catch Kristen’s attention, her mirthful eyes teasing.
“Well, they must know one of us is here anyway, so it really doesn’t -“ a guitar riff erupts from Miley’s cell phone, she checks the text message, “ - matter anyway. But I like playing secret getaway. I’ll get ya outta here.”
And with that Miley struts off toward the bartender, leaning almost enticingly over the counter, her fingers tapping a busy rhythm that her hips echo slightly, and Kristen just can’t look away. She smiles, she laughs, she tosses her hair, she gets her way. Soon she’s waving Kristen over and following the bartender past the kitchen to a door near the back, marked “Employees Only.”
Miley waits till Kristen catches up, hooking her arm in hers and tugging along the older girl gently. “There’s an employee elevator that goes up to the second floor, where we can cross to the parking garage next door.”
“Ah,” Kristen nods, playing with her hair so that the fringe falls back from her eyes. “Kinda sketchy back here, though, right?” She mumbles as they pass a flickering hall light.
“Nah, sets the mood for our the getaway!”
“There has to be a mood?”
“I’m always in a mood, honey.” Miley winks over her shoulder.
The employee opens the door to revel a stock elevator behind a grate. Sliding it open he says, “It’s just out the door to left, the door to the parking garage is our second fire escape, so it’s always open.” Miley smiles and runs a hand over his bicep, “Thanks so much, Stevie. See ya around.”
When the grates close and the elevator shifts into motion, Kristen asks, “You know him?”
Miley fires off another text and shakes her shoulder-length hair absently, “Nah, but you learn to make friends, right? Nametags are also a great help.”
Kristen rolls her eyes and slides open the grate when the elevator stops. Opening the door with the big red “EXIT” written on it in paint leads them out onto a metal causeway, just a few feet away from the door adjoining the parking garage to the restaurant’s building. Miley leans out over the side, popping her gum and trying to catch a glimpse of the cameras milling about the sidewalk.
“Hey watch it!” Kristen comes up behind her and grabs her sides, holding her body close, away from the ledge.
“Chill out, I’m just checking if they’re watching the entrance still,” Miley laughs, putting her hands over Kristen’s on her hips, and swaying jovially. She looks over her shoulder, under her lashes at Kristen, a smile soft yet tantalizing on her lips.
“You wanna get caught?” Kristen asks. Her hands sneak a bit higher, a bit more forward, so they rest on Miley’s stomach. Despite her paparazzi paranoia, her tone displays a playful lilt.
“I like having secrets,” Miley replies. She pretends to nip at Kristen’s nose, then raunchily grabs the older girl’s hands and places them on her breasts, shaking her chest a little in her grip. Kristen laughs and pushes her away, but grabs her hand and drags her to the large brown door leading to the garage. Once inside, they quickly run down the ramps and sneak around the corner, wary of any watchful flashes of light or shouts of questions. Around the corner block they come to Kristen’s car, parked at a meter and almost out of time. Miley keeps a firm grip on her hand the whole way.
Miley erupts in infectious giggles when her car door slams and Kristen peels out of the parking spot. Feeling like they just got away with some sort of crime, Kristen lets out a few giggles herself and races down the streets to the freeway. The CD player is running a Blackhearts album, and Miley shakes her wild hair every now and then to the sounds of a bass drum cacophony, her feet stomping and her hands playing imaginary instruments, until Kristen smiles her way and shakes her head a little too. With the window down, Miley rolls her hand over the wind, not fighting it, but riding the current and commanding it’s flow. Kristen admires the way Miley can lose herself in moments like this, even though she’s got crazy things like fans and paparazzi and that whole “role model” thing jumping at her from every corner. She’s free even in her captivity, and that’s something both attractive and foreign and to the older actress.
Finally pulling into her driveway, Kristen parks her car next to Miley’s and pulls up on the parking brake. She always gets a bit awkward when it comes to asking people inside her home, because it always sounds illicit in her mind. She stutters a bit, “You uh - you wanna come up? Or, inside I mean?” She cringes mentally.
Miley shifts to address her and places her hand over Kristen’s on the parking brake. “Sure,” she adds a squeeze and a playful smile. Kristen laughs under her breath at her lack of cool, and trudges out of the car, shutting the door with her shoe and shrugging in her black band t-shirt. Miley runs her hands through her light hair, flipping and tossing it in the afternoon breeze as Kristen fumbles in her bag for her keys, finally opening the door and toeing off her shoes.
Plopping down into the plush gray couch, Kristen flicks on the television, set to a rhapsody channel, and brings up a box hidden underneath the table. Miley lays her bag down on the floor and scootches closer to Kristen, so that her thighs are touching Kristen’s jean-clad legs.
Lifting the top of the wooden box reveals a small glass multi-colored pipe and a few plastic bags with miniature marijuana leaves printed on the side. Kristen coughs to clear her throat, “I don’t have much left, been a while since I called Luda for a restock. But there’s enough for the two of us, I think.” Miley nods while looking through channels to find a dance station, “It’s ok, I don’t want any. I’m leaving in a bit anyway.”
“Oh. You are?” Kristen stops filling her pipe with what little weed she has left. She cringes when she realizes it sounded desperate.
“Kinda, but don’t worry, you have fun.”
“Oh well, no I mean I - I don't wanna be a bad host, we can do something else,” Kristen puts the pipe down and shifts uncomfortably on the couch, her eyes searching the room for something intriguing enough to keep the rebel pop star interested in staying. Maybe a dvd, or something on HBO…
“No girl, chillax, it’s cool. I’m down for whatever -“ Miley tries, her hands reaching for Kristen when the other girl starts to stand up.
“We can play video games or something, I think Taylor left one of his fighting games here last time, or..like, we can listen to music, or -“
“Honey, honey!” Miley’s southern hospitality tone comes out when she grabs Kristen’s hand and tugs her back to the couch. “We've got music right here, everything’s just fine.”
“Yea but, you’re not -“
Miley gets a look that suggests she’s thinking “silly girl” in her head, and Kristen would normally be a little put off by that, but when Miley reaches over and takes the pipe from the table, the older girl can only watch. Miley taps the weed securely into the pipe, then leans over and puts the pipe against Kristen’s lips. Grabbing the metal lighter with a smile, Miley lights Kristen up and watches as she takes the hit with a deep breath, her pale cheeks noticeably red, maybe from something more than the smoke. Kristen breathes out an acrid cloud of burn and struggles not to cough at the hot sensation in her throat. She closes her eyes and nods, her hair falling in front of her face and her hand waving to Miley in a sort of “thanks” gesture.
There’s really not much left of the bowl. Miley seems to have changed her mind about leaving so soon because she’s kicking off her boots and curling up closer to Kristen on the couch, bringing the pipe to her own lips and tapping the side with the lighter, trying to get the ash to separate, then lights up herself, taking a deep breath and holding it in with her powerful singer lungs. She coughs too, and her eyes tear a little when her smoke cloud blows back a bit in her face, but she smiles and giggles, and Kristen wonders in the back of her head why she’s so uptight around this playful young girl, why she can’t just go with the flow like she does.
“There ya go. Now ya can’t feel guilty.” Miley hands the pipe and lighter back to Kristen, who takes another slow hit, finishing the bowl. Miley takes both from her, her fingers just grazing the girl’s cheeks, and puts them down with a slight “clang” against the tabletop. Miley then snaps her fingers and rolls her shoulders slightly in time with the David Guetta song flowing from the television. She dances in her seat and acts all the part of raunchy flirty teenager while Kristen lays back and finally stops fidgeting with her hair. She’s only spent time with Miley on a few occasions before this, but she realizes, once her mind is in a comfortable light haze, that she could totally, like, just hang out with Miley, and it’s all cool. She really doesn’t need to try to impress the girl, even though she thought they had like, zero things in common, other than a similar taste in music and the Joan Jett thing. Miley seems to bring a good time wherever she goes. And Kristen is into that.
Miley sings along with the female vocalist on the dance track and inches closer to Kristen, reaching up to the ceiling on her knees, her shirt lifting just above the beltline of her jean shorts, her hands twirling in the hair before wresting themselves in her brightly highlighted hair. She shakes her head from side to side and lifts her hips up and down with each hard beat of the bass.
Suddenly Kristen realizes this is a lap dance, but by the time she does, Miley’s already fallen forward onto her chest and is inches from her face, her eyes dark and hidden beneath long full lashes. When Kristen had called to hang out with Miley, she hadn’t planned for them to be doing this, again, but she can’t help herself, again. The older girl lifts her hands to Miley’s undulating sides, still dancing atop her, and licks her lips in preparation. Miley holds herself up with one hand above Kristen, and with the other gathers as much of her soft highlighted hair as she can and moves it out of her face to hold against the back of her head. Kristen takes the opportunity and lifts her head to meet Miley’s lips, sucking her mouth closer and lifting her hips to get more comfortable on the couch. Miley’s legs fall in between Kristen’s and her hand lets go of her mass of hair to run through Kristen’s darker locks, tracing the side of her face with her thumb with each run.
Kristen’s lips tingle from Miley’s minty gum she was chewing earlier, and her throat tickles from the hits. Moving her hands from Miley’s sides to her backside, Kristen indulges in the belt loops of Miley’s shorts, slipping her fingers in and tugging up, bringing Miley closer in a rough thrust. Miley giggles in that adult way she has sometimes and repeats the motion of her own volition, slow but powerful against Kristen’s hips. Kristen is turned on for sure, but she relaxes into the couch and sighs into Miley’s mouth, completely comfortable in a way she never really is outside closed doors.
The younger girl slides from the brunette’s lips to her chin, and dips along her jaw line to explore the skin of her neck. Kristen moves her hands from Miley’s backside to the space she’s created between them, slipping beneath her flimsy white shirt to rub over her lace bra and trace the skin beneath her underwire. Kristen clears her throat with a rumbling cough and says quietly, “I thought you were gonna leave soon?”
Miley speaks in between kisses, “Meeeh, I was - But it’s - much easier - to make out with you - when you’re -“ Miley looks up with a “partner-in-crime” smirk here, “ - a little high.”
“Oh really? Have you noticed that?” Kristen smirks.
“Yea, and I wasn’t gonna leave early without getting some action, duh.” Miley dips down for a deliciously drawn out, wet, succulent kiss. Kristen moans quietly just as Miley pulls away, “So, you’re staying?”
“Ha, I’m kinda obsessed wit cha, remember?” Miley quotes from an interview she once did.
Kristen smiles and plays along, “And I just love your music. I really do.”
Miley laughs her loud and deep laugh. Kristen smiles brightly. Entwining her fingers with the young star’s, Kristen moves in for another kiss, then falls back to the arm rest, enticing Miley to chase after her lips.
It’s really nice having a friend to play with like this.
~fin~
So i wasn't too focused when I wrote this one, I think I was trying to establish more of the WHY ON EARTH they could be shipped part, rather than tell a story. So.... idk I might wanna try an AU where they're more Joan Jett-ized cuz that's the underlying hotness factor between them. But probably not because I'm very lazy. SO this end note is kinda useless. Oh well.
Thanks for reading.