Drabbletag - Sharing Clothes
Title: Borrowed Time
Prompt: Drabbletag 5 - Sharing Clothes
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Pairing: Lydia/Malia
Rating: PG
Word count: 250
“Are you ready yet?”
Malia’s not usually slow getting dressed, and Lydia’s damned if she’s going to be late to class because Malia decided today is the one day she’s going to start fussing over her appearance.
“No,” comes the blunt reply from the other side of the bathroom door.
It can’t be that Malia doesn’t like the outfit Lydia’s chosen for her, because Lydia’s taste is flawless. Sure, Malia doesn’t borrow Lydia’s clothes often; they’re not the same size. But last night things got a little …enthusiastic, and Malia’s shorts ended up torn to the brink of indecency.
The door slams open, and Lydia’s ready to tell Malia to stop being ridiculous, because the shirt is totally Malia’s colour and that’s one of Lydia’s favourite skirts.
The words die on her lips.
Malia’s eyes are huge, pupils dilated, a flush on her cheeks. Her chest moves as she breathes heavily, nostrils flaring slightly, mouth open as she breathes deep.
“I can’t wear this,” she hisses, gripping the bathroom door tight enough that a hint of claw shows at the end of her fingers. “I can’t, Lydia, I can smell you on the fabric.”
“Oh,” is the only response Lydia can manage. Malia sways forward with something like a growl, and Lydia watches as she raises the collar of the shirt to her face, eyes fluttering closed as she inhales.
Lydia’s knees feel weak all of a sudden.
Looks like they are going to be late for class after all.
Prompt: Drabbletag 5 - Sharing Clothes
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Pairing: Lydia/Malia
Rating: PG
Word count: 250
“Are you ready yet?”
Malia’s not usually slow getting dressed, and Lydia’s damned if she’s going to be late to class because Malia decided today is the one day she’s going to start fussing over her appearance.
“No,” comes the blunt reply from the other side of the bathroom door.
It can’t be that Malia doesn’t like the outfit Lydia’s chosen for her, because Lydia’s taste is flawless. Sure, Malia doesn’t borrow Lydia’s clothes often; they’re not the same size. But last night things got a little …enthusiastic, and Malia’s shorts ended up torn to the brink of indecency.
The door slams open, and Lydia’s ready to tell Malia to stop being ridiculous, because the shirt is totally Malia’s colour and that’s one of Lydia’s favourite skirts.
The words die on her lips.
Malia’s eyes are huge, pupils dilated, a flush on her cheeks. Her chest moves as she breathes heavily, nostrils flaring slightly, mouth open as she breathes deep.
“I can’t wear this,” she hisses, gripping the bathroom door tight enough that a hint of claw shows at the end of her fingers. “I can’t, Lydia, I can smell you on the fabric.”
“Oh,” is the only response Lydia can manage. Malia sways forward with something like a growl, and Lydia watches as she raises the collar of the shirt to her face, eyes fluttering closed as she inhales.
Lydia’s knees feel weak all of a sudden.
Looks like they are going to be late for class after all.