"Secrets Hidden In Shadows" (Charmed, Prue/Phoebe.)
Fandom: Charmed.
Pairing: Phoebe/Prue.
Warnings: For the incest fem!sex that smacks you in the face near-immediately.
Author Note: I was trying to play around with the style but it didn't work out quite how I hoped, meh. 785 words for daily15's #277 -- help. Rated: adult.
*
The rain lashes against the windows and the wind rattles the glass in its frame, howling through the trees and shaking the very foundations of the building you're in, but all you hear are her gasps and the way her breath catches as you slide a finger inside her -- so hot and so fucking wet -- and her desperate words, Prue please… please, oh god, don't tease, I need you, whispered in a voice passion-rough as you slide your fingers into silken heat, and she clenches around you, wanting and needing.
It's wrong, this thing the two of you do, and it's always been wrong. But you've managed to ignore the wrongness in favour of the rightness, letting the midnight shadows protect your secret and the sunlight twist it into a false representation of truth, something acceptable; though it'll never really be acceptable, not the real you and her, and that you know it for truth makes you want to scream, to bend and break the rules until there's a space for you both and the world accommodates the fact that you're just different.
She arches up against you, fingers grasping at your shoulders hard enough to bruise, fingernails digging into your skin, and -- ohgod that's going to mark, going to sting later -- outside the storm continues, flashes of lightening burning spots of grey onto your vision, as the staccato beat of rain thrums on in the background.
The lamp on her bedside table flickers, off then on then off then on, and she pulls you closer as though she thinks that, if she just tries harder, she can become you, crawl inside you and take refuge.
You both need help, probably, but this is better than help, better than everything, so you press closer, as close as you can get, and get lost in her eyes, blue meeting brown meeting blue, watching the lovelustlove there shade them with overtones of the rich brown-black of strong espresso.
Your fingers thrust into her hard, fast, as you kiss her and steal the air from her lungs, replacing it with your own, owning and sharing and giving and taking, branding her as yours even though she'll never really be anyone else's.
She gasps your name when you brush her clit with your thumb, body jerking in response, wanton and beautiful and yours; hair spread over the pillow and skin flushed pink, covered in the faintest sheen of sweat. She slides a leg between yours, pressing upward until you gasp, grinding against her as pure need shoots through you to settle between your legs, and you speed up the rhythm, needing to come soon, needing her to come with you.
Fingers explore, twisting in a way that makes her curse and beg, pleading, whimpering, as you thrust against her leg more insistently and curl your fingers in a way that makes her scream your name, bucking beneath you as her muscles clench, body going rigid and you aren't far behind, gasping her name amid a babble of I love you and don't ever leave me and I need you.
You see stars, whitehotpuresparkling, as you reach the highest of heights and reaffirm your belief in what heaven will be; you, her and this. Your heart hammers in your chest and your lungs desperately draw in air, needing oxygen just as you need to feel her, still, so you slide your fingers out of her body and cuddle her close.
Your breath puffs in short, hot gasps against her neck, your body still tingling as her hand moves to rest over your heart, palm flat against your chest. As soon as you've caught your breath, you kiss her softly and press your face into her shoulder, absorbing the moment and the feelings it conjures.
You need her, you've always needed her.
She completes you, makes you strong and whole, and gives you the confidence to lead, when none of you really have a clue what you're doing. And in the light of day you can't have her, which hurts, cuts, tears and stabs, at a heart much more vulnerable and needy than most people suspect.
I love you, she murmurs into your ear, breath warm as it ghosts across the surface of your skin, I love you so much.
You think about how wrong this is, letting your thoughts wander along a thunder-interrupted path, and reach the same decision you always reach. It's as wrong as it is right, but it is right, because you love her and you need her and she loves and needs you, and it's enough, everything, perfect.
You trust the shadows to hide your secrets and whisper, I love you too.
Pairing: Phoebe/Prue.
Warnings: For the incest fem!sex that smacks you in the face near-immediately.
Author Note: I was trying to play around with the style but it didn't work out quite how I hoped, meh. 785 words for daily15's #277 -- help. Rated: adult.
*
The rain lashes against the windows and the wind rattles the glass in its frame, howling through the trees and shaking the very foundations of the building you're in, but all you hear are her gasps and the way her breath catches as you slide a finger inside her -- so hot and so fucking wet -- and her desperate words, Prue please… please, oh god, don't tease, I need you, whispered in a voice passion-rough as you slide your fingers into silken heat, and she clenches around you, wanting and needing.
It's wrong, this thing the two of you do, and it's always been wrong. But you've managed to ignore the wrongness in favour of the rightness, letting the midnight shadows protect your secret and the sunlight twist it into a false representation of truth, something acceptable; though it'll never really be acceptable, not the real you and her, and that you know it for truth makes you want to scream, to bend and break the rules until there's a space for you both and the world accommodates the fact that you're just different.
She arches up against you, fingers grasping at your shoulders hard enough to bruise, fingernails digging into your skin, and -- ohgod that's going to mark, going to sting later -- outside the storm continues, flashes of lightening burning spots of grey onto your vision, as the staccato beat of rain thrums on in the background.
The lamp on her bedside table flickers, off then on then off then on, and she pulls you closer as though she thinks that, if she just tries harder, she can become you, crawl inside you and take refuge.
You both need help, probably, but this is better than help, better than everything, so you press closer, as close as you can get, and get lost in her eyes, blue meeting brown meeting blue, watching the lovelustlove there shade them with overtones of the rich brown-black of strong espresso.
Your fingers thrust into her hard, fast, as you kiss her and steal the air from her lungs, replacing it with your own, owning and sharing and giving and taking, branding her as yours even though she'll never really be anyone else's.
She gasps your name when you brush her clit with your thumb, body jerking in response, wanton and beautiful and yours; hair spread over the pillow and skin flushed pink, covered in the faintest sheen of sweat. She slides a leg between yours, pressing upward until you gasp, grinding against her as pure need shoots through you to settle between your legs, and you speed up the rhythm, needing to come soon, needing her to come with you.
Fingers explore, twisting in a way that makes her curse and beg, pleading, whimpering, as you thrust against her leg more insistently and curl your fingers in a way that makes her scream your name, bucking beneath you as her muscles clench, body going rigid and you aren't far behind, gasping her name amid a babble of I love you and don't ever leave me and I need you.
You see stars, whitehotpuresparkling, as you reach the highest of heights and reaffirm your belief in what heaven will be; you, her and this. Your heart hammers in your chest and your lungs desperately draw in air, needing oxygen just as you need to feel her, still, so you slide your fingers out of her body and cuddle her close.
Your breath puffs in short, hot gasps against her neck, your body still tingling as her hand moves to rest over your heart, palm flat against your chest. As soon as you've caught your breath, you kiss her softly and press your face into her shoulder, absorbing the moment and the feelings it conjures.
You need her, you've always needed her.
She completes you, makes you strong and whole, and gives you the confidence to lead, when none of you really have a clue what you're doing. And in the light of day you can't have her, which hurts, cuts, tears and stabs, at a heart much more vulnerable and needy than most people suspect.
I love you, she murmurs into your ear, breath warm as it ghosts across the surface of your skin, I love you so much.
You think about how wrong this is, letting your thoughts wander along a thunder-interrupted path, and reach the same decision you always reach. It's as wrong as it is right, but it is right, because you love her and you need her and she loves and needs you, and it's enough, everything, perfect.
You trust the shadows to hide your secrets and whisper, I love you too.