porn battle entries {twilight, dollhouse, the office, pushing daisies / btvs} r - nc17
title: i don't think this outfit was in the costumes bin in preschool
fandom: twilight
character(s)/pairing(s): alice/bella
rating: nc17
word count: 367
prompt: dress-up at the porn battle
spoilers: none.
“I feel like a prostitute,” Bella pouts, crossing her arms over her chest before realizing the stance only makes her cleavage more pronounced. She drops her arms.
“Yeah, but an expensive prostitute. Not one of those cheap ones that stand under bridges,” Alice assures. Bella opens her mouth to ask exactly how she knows this, but then snaps her lips closed. She doesn’t want to know.
There’s a mini dress. And platforms. And little else.
“Aaaaaliiice,” Bella whines, fluttering her hands over her body, trying to determine which bit of exposed skin to cover up. There’s a lot to choose from. “Can I please change now?”
Alice rolls her eyes, hopping up from the bed and spinning her around.
“Alight, fine. But you have to let me help you get it off or you’ll rip it.”
“Yeah yeah yeah,” she murmurs, before sucking in a breath at Alice’s cold hands against her back, following the trail of the flesh newly revealed by the slowly undone zipper.
“I don’t want to catch the fabric,” Alice answers her as-of-yet unspoken question. She finally peels the blood red fabric from Bella’s body, slipping her hands between the dress and her skin to remove the bodice. Her breath tickles the hairs at the very base of her neck and Bella can’t help but lean back into her touch, her head barely resting on Alice’s shoulder.
“You know I could have done that part myself,” she smirks knowingly, and she can feel Alice’s body rumble as she giggles, her hands still resting on Bella’s stomach beneath the material of the dress.
“Probably,” Alice’s hands slide lower, beneath the fabric of Bella’s panties and straight to the apex between her legs, “But I don’t really have much faith in your ability to do it as well as I can. You trust me, right?”
Bella nods heavily, resting her own hand over the one of Alice’s still on her stomach, nudging it upwards toward her chest. She swallows thickly and Alice follows the undulation with her mouth, lips pressed flush to her skin.
She swallows a mouthful of venom as her fingers slide into her core and her other hand cups her breast.
“Excellent.”
title: coming home to a place you never knew existed
fandom: dollhouse
character(s)/pairing(s): echo/sierra
rating: nc17
word count: 699
prompt: recognition at the porn battle
spoilers: none.
“Do I know you?”
It’s said within an indentation, the words fractured and scattered within a pause.
Caroline spins toward the (un)familiar voice, resting a hand against the bookshelf. She runs a finger over the spine of one novel as she searches the girl’s face for any hint of recognition . She’s pretty; exotic features with honey tinted hair and a body built lean like a ballerina. She shakes her head.
“Don’t think so.” Her face falls in tiny increments; first the tentative smile on her face, then her gaze and finally her shoulders follow. Caroline’s fingers creep down the regiment of books, deliberating. She taps slightly on a thick, paper-bound one when she makes up her mind. “But I wouldn’t mind it if you did.”
Invitations for coffee are exchanged (she’s more into tea but she’ll keep that fact to herself) and they nudge shoulders on the way out. Caroline doesn’t realize it until she’s in the checkout line, but she’d accidentally added the book she’d been resting on to her pile.
It’s a psychology book about memory loss.
*
Her name is Priya.
They talk about books and music. About childhood memories (hers in one of the New York boroughs and Caroline’s in Carmel) and where they’d like to be six months down the road (“Doing environmental work in Africa.” “Starting in on my fixer-upper condo.”) . Their timelines are so seamless, so practiced, that the other would never know there are five whole years missing in between.
Their hands accidentally on-purpose brush under the table and Caroline smiles.
*
Streetlights falls slanted and in shadowed cells across the bare floors, slinking up to the lone mattress in the center of the floor. Caroline follows the silhouette of a window pane down Priya’s neck, consumed with the ambition to follow it down the expanse of her back.
There’s something familiar in the slide of her hands across the other woman’s skin, as if she’d traced these shoulders before. The strap of her dress falls victim to Caroline’s fingers and Priya shimmies to let the rest of the silky fabric puddle at her waist. She tilts her head and their eyes meet.
Caroline presses her back into the mattress, hovering just above her. Her eyes flit, deciding where to land, where to take cover. She settles for placing a solid kiss into the center of her chest before inching down her stomach, pulling the emerald green dress the rest of the way off. She probably wouldn’t have guessed that the night was going to end like this, but she can’t say she’s surprised. They’ve been circling each other for weeks.
Her tongue traces the V of her hips, the flesh of her inner thigh. She tastes like honeysuckle, like coming home to a place you never even knew existed. She takes her to the edge, her tongue flat against her clit, her legs over her shoulders, and when Priya comes she whispers her name like a plea.
The darkness whispers back.
*
“I’m thinking… caramelized sugar, but- oh. Wait. Is that too brown? Is cantaloupe better? Not too… melon-y?”
Priya holds up two paint swatches to the newly plastered wall of her living room, eying each critically. Caroline comes up behind her, curling one arm over her waist and resting her chin on Priya’s shoulder.
“I’d go with caramelized sugar. It sounds…” She places a wet kiss on her neck, letting her tongue dart out to taste the skin there and smirking when she shivers. “Tasty.”
She rolls her eyes, spinning in her arms so they’re face to face, chest to chest.
“You’re so predicable,” but there’s a smile hiding in the crease at the corner of her lips so Caroline brushes their lips together, only giving in and sliding her fingers into Priya’s hair and bringing her closer when she lets out a low whine.
“Sierra.”
It’s as if someone, her own voice actually, spoke just next to her ear. Her gaze whips around, but their alone in the unfurnished apartment.
“Nothing,” she breathes, answering the questioning expression, “It’s nothing.”
Priya doesn’t mention that maybe she hears her own voice whisper echo in the silence of midnight.
title: strawberry constellations
fandom: the office
character(s)/pairing(s): pam/katy
rating: r
word count: 407
prompt: freckles at the porn battle
spoilers: set post-casino night
Her lip gloss smells like strawberries. Pam can taste it when Katy kisses her in the dimly lit hallway outside of the ladies’ room at Poor Richard’s, as it leaves a sticky trail down her neck, over the hill and valley of her collarbone, down to the neckline of her shirt.
“I’m drunk.”
Pam’s not sure if it’s an excuse or an invitation, even as the words leave her own mouth in a slurred breath, but suddenly Katy can’t stop giggling and it’s infectious.
“No, no really.” She manages to choke out between bursts of laughter, “I don’t get drunk that often but when I do…” Pam’s abruptly mesmerized by the shine of Katy’s mouth, and she only realizes the redhead is talking when her lips form the syllables of her name.
“What?”
“You’re silly, Pammy. I asked if you wanted to share a cab home.” The ‘o’ in home gets stuck in her throat for a second, and it’s almost enough time for Pam to realize that it doesn’t bother her so much when Katy calls her Pammy, even if she probably got it from Roy. Ass. Stupid finally-set-a-date-at-the-wrong-time ass.
She’s explaining all this in jumbled words as they stumble into the tiny yellow car of a taxi, and she only remembers that Katy told the driver just one address as Katy is opening the door to her apartment.
“Shhh,” Katy hushes when Pam giggles at the realization. She makes exaggerated tip-toe motions across the living room.
“Do you have a roommate?” Pam whispers.
“No.” Katy declares rather loudly, flicking on the hall light and blinding them both.
Pam collapses into her leather couch, wiggling around amidst the squeaky protests of the material to get comfortable. Katy’s thigh ends up over her own, somehow.
Her head falls back, Katy’s face just a breath away. Their noses brush and Pam begins to count to constellation of freckles across her cheeks.
“Kiss me?” Pam asks softly, and she does. She kisses her and her hand inches up her skirt, and she can’t even find in her the fidelity to stop her when her fingers slip into her cotton underwear.
She’s engaged. She should care that this is the second person’s lips becoming familiar with hers in the last week. Her second-hand glossy lips should be forming the words stop, I can’t, any one of the previous denials.
“Right there,” works too.
Roy doesn’t notice when she comes home smelling like strawberries.
title: imagine me in technicolor
fandom: pushing daisies / buffy the vampire slayer crossover
character(s)/pairing(s): ned/faith
rating: r
word count: 166
prompt: fresh start at the porn battle
spoilers: none. set sometime in the future.
Ned winces when he touches her. And it’s not because of the sharp points of her heels or how her hair is too straight, too dark. Not even because her name calls for a trust she hasn’t earned. It’s because he can touch her. Because he shouldn’t want to.
She’ll sleep in a bed made for someone else, plastic torn off moths ago still dangling in shreds from the ceiling. She’ll eat pies she doesn’t like since fruit was never her thing. She’ll shimmy into a too tight cocktail dress in ice cream colors, just because he told her once he thought she’d look pretty in something other than black. She’ll even pretend not to notice that he looks for another girl in her eyes when he’s inside of her, that he bites his tongue when he comes to keep her name in his throat.
Faith will go through all the motions, just for the chance that maybe he can bring her back to life too.
fandom: twilight
character(s)/pairing(s): alice/bella
rating: nc17
word count: 367
prompt: dress-up at the porn battle
spoilers: none.
“I feel like a prostitute,” Bella pouts, crossing her arms over her chest before realizing the stance only makes her cleavage more pronounced. She drops her arms.
“Yeah, but an expensive prostitute. Not one of those cheap ones that stand under bridges,” Alice assures. Bella opens her mouth to ask exactly how she knows this, but then snaps her lips closed. She doesn’t want to know.
There’s a mini dress. And platforms. And little else.
“Aaaaaliiice,” Bella whines, fluttering her hands over her body, trying to determine which bit of exposed skin to cover up. There’s a lot to choose from. “Can I please change now?”
Alice rolls her eyes, hopping up from the bed and spinning her around.
“Alight, fine. But you have to let me help you get it off or you’ll rip it.”
“Yeah yeah yeah,” she murmurs, before sucking in a breath at Alice’s cold hands against her back, following the trail of the flesh newly revealed by the slowly undone zipper.
“I don’t want to catch the fabric,” Alice answers her as-of-yet unspoken question. She finally peels the blood red fabric from Bella’s body, slipping her hands between the dress and her skin to remove the bodice. Her breath tickles the hairs at the very base of her neck and Bella can’t help but lean back into her touch, her head barely resting on Alice’s shoulder.
“You know I could have done that part myself,” she smirks knowingly, and she can feel Alice’s body rumble as she giggles, her hands still resting on Bella’s stomach beneath the material of the dress.
“Probably,” Alice’s hands slide lower, beneath the fabric of Bella’s panties and straight to the apex between her legs, “But I don’t really have much faith in your ability to do it as well as I can. You trust me, right?”
Bella nods heavily, resting her own hand over the one of Alice’s still on her stomach, nudging it upwards toward her chest. She swallows thickly and Alice follows the undulation with her mouth, lips pressed flush to her skin.
She swallows a mouthful of venom as her fingers slide into her core and her other hand cups her breast.
“Excellent.”
title: coming home to a place you never knew existed
fandom: dollhouse
character(s)/pairing(s): echo/sierra
rating: nc17
word count: 699
prompt: recognition at the porn battle
spoilers: none.
“Do I know you?”
It’s said within an indentation, the words fractured and scattered within a pause.
Caroline spins toward the (un)familiar voice, resting a hand against the bookshelf. She runs a finger over the spine of one novel as she searches the girl’s face for any hint of recognition . She’s pretty; exotic features with honey tinted hair and a body built lean like a ballerina. She shakes her head.
“Don’t think so.” Her face falls in tiny increments; first the tentative smile on her face, then her gaze and finally her shoulders follow. Caroline’s fingers creep down the regiment of books, deliberating. She taps slightly on a thick, paper-bound one when she makes up her mind. “But I wouldn’t mind it if you did.”
Invitations for coffee are exchanged (she’s more into tea but she’ll keep that fact to herself) and they nudge shoulders on the way out. Caroline doesn’t realize it until she’s in the checkout line, but she’d accidentally added the book she’d been resting on to her pile.
It’s a psychology book about memory loss.
*
Her name is Priya.
They talk about books and music. About childhood memories (hers in one of the New York boroughs and Caroline’s in Carmel) and where they’d like to be six months down the road (“Doing environmental work in Africa.” “Starting in on my fixer-upper condo.”) . Their timelines are so seamless, so practiced, that the other would never know there are five whole years missing in between.
Their hands accidentally on-purpose brush under the table and Caroline smiles.
*
Streetlights falls slanted and in shadowed cells across the bare floors, slinking up to the lone mattress in the center of the floor. Caroline follows the silhouette of a window pane down Priya’s neck, consumed with the ambition to follow it down the expanse of her back.
There’s something familiar in the slide of her hands across the other woman’s skin, as if she’d traced these shoulders before. The strap of her dress falls victim to Caroline’s fingers and Priya shimmies to let the rest of the silky fabric puddle at her waist. She tilts her head and their eyes meet.
Caroline presses her back into the mattress, hovering just above her. Her eyes flit, deciding where to land, where to take cover. She settles for placing a solid kiss into the center of her chest before inching down her stomach, pulling the emerald green dress the rest of the way off. She probably wouldn’t have guessed that the night was going to end like this, but she can’t say she’s surprised. They’ve been circling each other for weeks.
Her tongue traces the V of her hips, the flesh of her inner thigh. She tastes like honeysuckle, like coming home to a place you never even knew existed. She takes her to the edge, her tongue flat against her clit, her legs over her shoulders, and when Priya comes she whispers her name like a plea.
The darkness whispers back.
*
“I’m thinking… caramelized sugar, but- oh. Wait. Is that too brown? Is cantaloupe better? Not too… melon-y?”
Priya holds up two paint swatches to the newly plastered wall of her living room, eying each critically. Caroline comes up behind her, curling one arm over her waist and resting her chin on Priya’s shoulder.
“I’d go with caramelized sugar. It sounds…” She places a wet kiss on her neck, letting her tongue dart out to taste the skin there and smirking when she shivers. “Tasty.”
She rolls her eyes, spinning in her arms so they’re face to face, chest to chest.
“You’re so predicable,” but there’s a smile hiding in the crease at the corner of her lips so Caroline brushes their lips together, only giving in and sliding her fingers into Priya’s hair and bringing her closer when she lets out a low whine.
“Sierra.”
It’s as if someone, her own voice actually, spoke just next to her ear. Her gaze whips around, but their alone in the unfurnished apartment.
“Nothing,” she breathes, answering the questioning expression, “It’s nothing.”
Priya doesn’t mention that maybe she hears her own voice whisper echo in the silence of midnight.
title: strawberry constellations
fandom: the office
character(s)/pairing(s): pam/katy
rating: r
word count: 407
prompt: freckles at the porn battle
spoilers: set post-casino night
Her lip gloss smells like strawberries. Pam can taste it when Katy kisses her in the dimly lit hallway outside of the ladies’ room at Poor Richard’s, as it leaves a sticky trail down her neck, over the hill and valley of her collarbone, down to the neckline of her shirt.
“I’m drunk.”
Pam’s not sure if it’s an excuse or an invitation, even as the words leave her own mouth in a slurred breath, but suddenly Katy can’t stop giggling and it’s infectious.
“No, no really.” She manages to choke out between bursts of laughter, “I don’t get drunk that often but when I do…” Pam’s abruptly mesmerized by the shine of Katy’s mouth, and she only realizes the redhead is talking when her lips form the syllables of her name.
“What?”
“You’re silly, Pammy. I asked if you wanted to share a cab home.” The ‘o’ in home gets stuck in her throat for a second, and it’s almost enough time for Pam to realize that it doesn’t bother her so much when Katy calls her Pammy, even if she probably got it from Roy. Ass. Stupid finally-set-a-date-at-the-wrong-time ass.
She’s explaining all this in jumbled words as they stumble into the tiny yellow car of a taxi, and she only remembers that Katy told the driver just one address as Katy is opening the door to her apartment.
“Shhh,” Katy hushes when Pam giggles at the realization. She makes exaggerated tip-toe motions across the living room.
“Do you have a roommate?” Pam whispers.
“No.” Katy declares rather loudly, flicking on the hall light and blinding them both.
Pam collapses into her leather couch, wiggling around amidst the squeaky protests of the material to get comfortable. Katy’s thigh ends up over her own, somehow.
Her head falls back, Katy’s face just a breath away. Their noses brush and Pam begins to count to constellation of freckles across her cheeks.
“Kiss me?” Pam asks softly, and she does. She kisses her and her hand inches up her skirt, and she can’t even find in her the fidelity to stop her when her fingers slip into her cotton underwear.
She’s engaged. She should care that this is the second person’s lips becoming familiar with hers in the last week. Her second-hand glossy lips should be forming the words stop, I can’t, any one of the previous denials.
“Right there,” works too.
Roy doesn’t notice when she comes home smelling like strawberries.
title: imagine me in technicolor
fandom: pushing daisies / buffy the vampire slayer crossover
character(s)/pairing(s): ned/faith
rating: r
word count: 166
prompt: fresh start at the porn battle
spoilers: none. set sometime in the future.
Ned winces when he touches her. And it’s not because of the sharp points of her heels or how her hair is too straight, too dark. Not even because her name calls for a trust she hasn’t earned. It’s because he can touch her. Because he shouldn’t want to.
She’ll sleep in a bed made for someone else, plastic torn off moths ago still dangling in shreds from the ceiling. She’ll eat pies she doesn’t like since fruit was never her thing. She’ll shimmy into a too tight cocktail dress in ice cream colors, just because he told her once he thought she’d look pretty in something other than black. She’ll even pretend not to notice that he looks for another girl in her eyes when he’s inside of her, that he bites his tongue when he comes to keep her name in his throat.
Faith will go through all the motions, just for the chance that maybe he can bring her back to life too.