(no subject)
small>semi-automatic
(eudaimon. Lily Potter/Andromeda Tonks. Some reference to Andy and her husband. It's been a long time since I wrote any femmeslash...God, such a long time since 2nd Song. It's nice to be back. I was thinking about maybe making this into a three-parter for wizard_trauma but I'm not sure. For wildestranger, who wouldn't let it die. Rated R. Illustrated.)
if i leave you i'm gonna do it semi-automatically
do you blame me?
you are so far out there in the static
hey, baby, am i coming through?
i am up above the buildings
i can see forever out the window of a hotel room
i spent a long night with a stranger i give my body to
still i miss you
She sat at the end of the bed, holding a pair of red silk shoes by their straps. Propped up against pillows, Ted was giving the baby a bottle. He had her little body settled in the curve of his arm like football, and he was talking to her as he fed her, rattling off what sounded disturbingly like Manchester City's recent form. Andromeda wasn't really listening. She was studying the place where she'd lost sequins off her left shoe, near to the heel. Those lost sequins seemed to her to be portentous, damning. Those lost sequins meant that her shoes were ruined, and her dancing days were done.
"Do you remember these?" she said, holding one out to him. Ted looked up from the task in hand, studying the shoe in her outstretched hand.
"Yes, love. I bought them for you, that Christmas we went up to Mom and Dad's...You used to wear them all the time, and then you couldn't wear heels anymore and you wore nothing but slippers for seven months."
"I used to wear them all the time," said Andromeda, wistfully, turning the shoe this way and that on its strap. She was aware of Ted watching her but then the baby snuffled and Ted made a little surprised noise in the back of his throat and the world narrowed again and Andromeda was on her own. Ted was talking about football again. Ted spent a lot of time talking about football with his daughter. Andromeda knew nothing about football. Andromeda sat at the top of the stairs outside of the ajar bathroom door, listening to draws and tables and gently splashing and water and not understanding a word, and she mourned her dry breasts and lacklustre dancing shoes.
"Do you want to put her to bed, Andy?" said Ted, standing in the doorway, rubbing Dora's little head carefully with a downy towel, naked except for water cooling on skin and the tattoo on his hipbone that he'd had when he was seventeen. At the top of the stairs, Andromeda was hugging her knees. Somewhere inside her was all of this love, love, a cascading waterfall of love. She could hear it, but she couldn't see it. She seemed to spent her life tidying things away, closing drawers, opening curtains, folding socks into pairs. In the day time, when Ted was at work, she sat cross legged in the middle of the lounge floor with Dora in her arms and she studied her daughter carefully, and she tried to understand. Maybe it was her own mother, her own childhood, the life which she had led with her sisters. She found it hard to think of Dora as her daughter; she was this little person, this little creature in her own right, who constantly demanded in a language which was beyond Andromeda to understand. She had never really been a daughter, not in the real sense, and Ted had been born a father and it was all so bloody unfair, wasn't it?
It was the thing which she wanted most in the world, and the thing which was most beyond her.
"I thought I'd ring Sirius and go out, love." She said, feigning vagueness, pressing tears against her knees.
-
"Andy, you look fabulous as always." He to shout, his mouth so close to he ear that his breath stirred her long earring against the side of her neck. The air in the muggle club was tight and close, rank with cigarette smoke. Sirius was beautiful and whiskey-scented, glitter smeared around his eyes which looked blacked in the dim light. Remus was hanging on his shoulder, shaggy hair since leaving school, big gorgeous grin. Andromeda kissed his cheek, cradled his jaw fondly.
"Left that handsome husband of yours at home, Andromeda?"
"My feet went looking for adventure, Remus...What could I do but permit my head and hands to follow?"
He grinned.
"Drink?" She watched how he spun away from her towards the bar at her nod. At her side, Sirius was holding out his hand to someone who she couldn't see, saying things that she couldn't hear.
"...otter, Andy."
The woman was tall, as tall as Sirius with red hair studded with delicate jewels. She wore green silk draped around a skinny frame. She was sipping champagne from a tall glass. She was beautiful in a way that had nothing really to do with the way her face looked. She was looking at Andromeda over the rim of her glass. Sirius had abandoned them. The not-beautiful-beautiful girl leant forward. She was wearing a wedding ring. With a guilty flush of blood to the face, Andromeda remembered her own wedding ring, left sitting on the sink. She pushed back the curtain of her hair, hiding her hand. The girl's breath stirred her earring against the side of her neck.
"Arsehole did a terrible job of introducing us, didn't he? I'm Lily. Lily Potter." Andromeda had heard about the fabulous Potters; Sirius had been best man at their wedding, Remus had that particular first love smile when ever he talked about this girl, this Lily. She'd heard about this girl. Now she was on familiar ground. She grasped the offered hand. Lily Potter had surprising strength.
"Andromeda Tonks."
"Sirius' cousin!" Lily was grinning. "Oh, he adores you!" Andromeda blushed.
"Even as a child, he was easily pleased." Lily's touched her shoulder, half punch, half shake.
"Come dance," she said, nodding towards the dance floor. "Ever since my wedding, I've been longing to dance."
"Is your husband here?" Lily shook her bright head.
"No, no...James is dying of the cold tonight, and I am here alone." She struck a dramatic pose, the back of her left hand to her forehead. Her wedding ring caught and sparked in the light.
"We'll dance together," said Andromeda, holding out her own ringless hand.
-
"Oh, God," whispered Lily. "Oh, God, God, fucking God. I'm so drunk, Andy. I'm appallingly, pitifully, awfully fucking drunk." Andromeda turned her head to brush her lips over the tousled copper hair that brushed her shoulder when Lily's head lolled against her. "I can't possibly go home like this...I'll never hear the end of it."
"Shhh, shhhh, don't fuss," murmured Andromeda, smoothing Lily's tousled hair, hair clips catching on the palm of her hand. "We'll the both of us sleep here tonight, and in the morning, you can go home penitent in your suffering." Against her shoulder, Lily laughed. She had her feet up on Sirius' coffee table. She'd discarded her high heeled shoes. Her green silk skirt had ridden up, way above her knees.
"There isn't room for the two of us here..." said Lily, matter-of-factly. "And the boys are already..." She paused, the sound of muffled laughter filtering down the hall. "The bed is already in use."
Reaching behind her, Andromeda tugged at the somewhat threadbare blanket draped across the back of the settee (surely as Remus touch, Sirius would never have though of such a thing).
"We'll just lie here, the two of us. Skinny girl like you can't possibly take up too much room."
"You'd be surprised," Lily murmured. "James always says...m'like a cat." Andromeda found herself laughing. She was drunker than she'd thought.
On the couch, both lying on their sides, they shuffled, their angles not quite matching, the sum of their bodies not balancing. The blanket was barely enough to cover both of them. Lily was lying on her hair. Her long earrings were digging into her cheek. Leaning over Lily, she dropped them onto the carpet. Later, she'd blame her earrings. When she lay back down, her hair carefully gathered on one side of her neck, their noses were almost touching. Lily's arm was draped across her waist. Below the hip, they touched, pressed together under the blanket. If everything had been slowed down to the point where it nearly stopped, almost didn't happen at all, it was Lily who moved first, Lily with her champagne taste. At first, for a twice split second, Andromeda thought that she was dreaming, the warm wet give of Lily's lips as the other girl kissed her, the spreading sweet fragrance of Lily Potter's hair. She'd been seventeen the last time that she'd kissed anybody who wasn't Ted, wasn't her husband. She'd forgotten that there was such a thing as other kisses, as not Ted kisses. Lily kissed well, kissed deeply (had learnt to kiss by kissing brave and stupid bonny boys). Lily's tongue flickered against her lips; she opened her mouth and pushed her tongue back against Lily's, deepened the kiss, could not go back. She thought of Ted, but in her drunkenness, she dismissed all of that. Bad mother, bad wife, Black to the bone.
She kissed Lily back. Lily's leg was hooked up around her hips, holding their bodies tight together. Under a green silk trim, Andromeda ran a tentative hand over the ripe curve of Lily's arse. Her knickers were lace, barely there, confection, embellishment. Andromeda wasn't wearing any underwear, tight black trousers and a jewelled belt. She squeezed Lily's arse, pressing her fingertips under the ruffled edge of lace. She enjoyed the soft breathless sounds which the other girl made. Between their bodies, between Lily's pale thighs, was a pool of heat. Lily sat up a little, using her raised leg as a lever to manoeuvre Andromeda onto her back. Andromeda relinquished, allowed herself to be conquered.
"You've done this before..."
"This? What this?"
"No, but you have, haven't you?"
"Not since I was a wife...Shhh, shhh, it doesn't count..."
"Why doesn't it count?"
No more words but Lily's hand cupped Andromeda's breast, squeezing. She had a surer touch than Ted (knew exactly how it felt). Ted was a good lover, honest, but Lily...Lily Potter was a dangerous, wicked girl. She pushed down with the heel of hand hard enough to make a short sharp pain come, right against Andromeda's heart. She gasped, her hips rising to butt against Lily's. These things follow patterns. These things have happened before. She had never done anything like it before. Lily pushed her hand inside Andy's shirt, curling her fingers around her bare breast. Andy felt both passive and on fire.
"Undo your trousers for me, lovely," Lily whispered, not stopping, dragging her lip across Andy's nipple. This was it. It wasn't too late - not too late to get up and flue home and crawl into bed with Ted who would be warm and heavy in sleep. It wasn't too late, but it would be.
She fumbled for the buckle of her belt, the heavy belt which Ted hated because he said it looked cheap. He worked so hard to give her everything, anything, and she threw it back in his face unable to make good sense of it. He thought of him at home with the baby, the puzzle made of both of their blood and bone. She opened her trousers to Lily's cool touch. Lily had long fingers, which found the heart of Andy's slick heat. Her hips rose reflexively to the quick clever touch. Always, with Ted, even after years and years, there was a moment of doubt, a you remember this, lover, you do stutter. Lily went to the heart of the problem. Lily touched her quickly, firmly. Lily was rucking her own skirt up with a free hand, pushing her knickers down or to the side, so that she could nestle herself firmly against Andy's bare thigh where her trousers were slipping. They rocked together, desperately, and Andy closed her eyes and kissed Lily, pushed herself hard into the kiss, and Ted was behind her, in her head, like something in a dream. Lily pushed two fingers inside her without warning, which hurt, which was the best that she deserved. She wanted to do something to Lily, for Lily, to thoroughly implicate herself in this whole bloody mess, but, in the end, she just kept her thigh as firmly between Lily's thighs as she could, kissed as deeply as she dared.
Her orgasm when it came, was too small and too late. Lily pressed cries and kisses into a shallow bite mark on Andy's shoulder.
She left her earrings in the morning.
(eudaimon. Lily Potter/Andromeda Tonks. Some reference to Andy and her husband. It's been a long time since I wrote any femmeslash...God, such a long time since 2nd Song. It's nice to be back. I was thinking about maybe making this into a three-parter for wizard_trauma but I'm not sure. For wildestranger, who wouldn't let it die. Rated R. Illustrated.)
if i leave you i'm gonna do it semi-automatically
do you blame me?
you are so far out there in the static
hey, baby, am i coming through?
i am up above the buildings
i can see forever out the window of a hotel room
i spent a long night with a stranger i give my body to
still i miss you
She sat at the end of the bed, holding a pair of red silk shoes by their straps. Propped up against pillows, Ted was giving the baby a bottle. He had her little body settled in the curve of his arm like football, and he was talking to her as he fed her, rattling off what sounded disturbingly like Manchester City's recent form. Andromeda wasn't really listening. She was studying the place where she'd lost sequins off her left shoe, near to the heel. Those lost sequins seemed to her to be portentous, damning. Those lost sequins meant that her shoes were ruined, and her dancing days were done.
"Do you remember these?" she said, holding one out to him. Ted looked up from the task in hand, studying the shoe in her outstretched hand.
"Yes, love. I bought them for you, that Christmas we went up to Mom and Dad's...You used to wear them all the time, and then you couldn't wear heels anymore and you wore nothing but slippers for seven months."
"I used to wear them all the time," said Andromeda, wistfully, turning the shoe this way and that on its strap. She was aware of Ted watching her but then the baby snuffled and Ted made a little surprised noise in the back of his throat and the world narrowed again and Andromeda was on her own. Ted was talking about football again. Ted spent a lot of time talking about football with his daughter. Andromeda knew nothing about football. Andromeda sat at the top of the stairs outside of the ajar bathroom door, listening to draws and tables and gently splashing and water and not understanding a word, and she mourned her dry breasts and lacklustre dancing shoes.
"Do you want to put her to bed, Andy?" said Ted, standing in the doorway, rubbing Dora's little head carefully with a downy towel, naked except for water cooling on skin and the tattoo on his hipbone that he'd had when he was seventeen. At the top of the stairs, Andromeda was hugging her knees. Somewhere inside her was all of this love, love, a cascading waterfall of love. She could hear it, but she couldn't see it. She seemed to spent her life tidying things away, closing drawers, opening curtains, folding socks into pairs. In the day time, when Ted was at work, she sat cross legged in the middle of the lounge floor with Dora in her arms and she studied her daughter carefully, and she tried to understand. Maybe it was her own mother, her own childhood, the life which she had led with her sisters. She found it hard to think of Dora as her daughter; she was this little person, this little creature in her own right, who constantly demanded in a language which was beyond Andromeda to understand. She had never really been a daughter, not in the real sense, and Ted had been born a father and it was all so bloody unfair, wasn't it?
It was the thing which she wanted most in the world, and the thing which was most beyond her.
"I thought I'd ring Sirius and go out, love." She said, feigning vagueness, pressing tears against her knees.
-
"Andy, you look fabulous as always." He to shout, his mouth so close to he ear that his breath stirred her long earring against the side of her neck. The air in the muggle club was tight and close, rank with cigarette smoke. Sirius was beautiful and whiskey-scented, glitter smeared around his eyes which looked blacked in the dim light. Remus was hanging on his shoulder, shaggy hair since leaving school, big gorgeous grin. Andromeda kissed his cheek, cradled his jaw fondly.
"Left that handsome husband of yours at home, Andromeda?"
"My feet went looking for adventure, Remus...What could I do but permit my head and hands to follow?"
He grinned.
"Drink?" She watched how he spun away from her towards the bar at her nod. At her side, Sirius was holding out his hand to someone who she couldn't see, saying things that she couldn't hear.
"...otter, Andy."
The woman was tall, as tall as Sirius with red hair studded with delicate jewels. She wore green silk draped around a skinny frame. She was sipping champagne from a tall glass. She was beautiful in a way that had nothing really to do with the way her face looked. She was looking at Andromeda over the rim of her glass. Sirius had abandoned them. The not-beautiful-beautiful girl leant forward. She was wearing a wedding ring. With a guilty flush of blood to the face, Andromeda remembered her own wedding ring, left sitting on the sink. She pushed back the curtain of her hair, hiding her hand. The girl's breath stirred her earring against the side of her neck.
"Arsehole did a terrible job of introducing us, didn't he? I'm Lily. Lily Potter." Andromeda had heard about the fabulous Potters; Sirius had been best man at their wedding, Remus had that particular first love smile when ever he talked about this girl, this Lily. She'd heard about this girl. Now she was on familiar ground. She grasped the offered hand. Lily Potter had surprising strength.
"Andromeda Tonks."
"Sirius' cousin!" Lily was grinning. "Oh, he adores you!" Andromeda blushed.
"Even as a child, he was easily pleased." Lily's touched her shoulder, half punch, half shake.
"Come dance," she said, nodding towards the dance floor. "Ever since my wedding, I've been longing to dance."
"Is your husband here?" Lily shook her bright head.
"No, no...James is dying of the cold tonight, and I am here alone." She struck a dramatic pose, the back of her left hand to her forehead. Her wedding ring caught and sparked in the light.
"We'll dance together," said Andromeda, holding out her own ringless hand.
-
"Oh, God," whispered Lily. "Oh, God, God, fucking God. I'm so drunk, Andy. I'm appallingly, pitifully, awfully fucking drunk." Andromeda turned her head to brush her lips over the tousled copper hair that brushed her shoulder when Lily's head lolled against her. "I can't possibly go home like this...I'll never hear the end of it."
"Shhh, shhhh, don't fuss," murmured Andromeda, smoothing Lily's tousled hair, hair clips catching on the palm of her hand. "We'll the both of us sleep here tonight, and in the morning, you can go home penitent in your suffering." Against her shoulder, Lily laughed. She had her feet up on Sirius' coffee table. She'd discarded her high heeled shoes. Her green silk skirt had ridden up, way above her knees.
"There isn't room for the two of us here..." said Lily, matter-of-factly. "And the boys are already..." She paused, the sound of muffled laughter filtering down the hall. "The bed is already in use."
Reaching behind her, Andromeda tugged at the somewhat threadbare blanket draped across the back of the settee (surely as Remus touch, Sirius would never have though of such a thing).
"We'll just lie here, the two of us. Skinny girl like you can't possibly take up too much room."
"You'd be surprised," Lily murmured. "James always says...m'like a cat." Andromeda found herself laughing. She was drunker than she'd thought.
On the couch, both lying on their sides, they shuffled, their angles not quite matching, the sum of their bodies not balancing. The blanket was barely enough to cover both of them. Lily was lying on her hair. Her long earrings were digging into her cheek. Leaning over Lily, she dropped them onto the carpet. Later, she'd blame her earrings. When she lay back down, her hair carefully gathered on one side of her neck, their noses were almost touching. Lily's arm was draped across her waist. Below the hip, they touched, pressed together under the blanket. If everything had been slowed down to the point where it nearly stopped, almost didn't happen at all, it was Lily who moved first, Lily with her champagne taste. At first, for a twice split second, Andromeda thought that she was dreaming, the warm wet give of Lily's lips as the other girl kissed her, the spreading sweet fragrance of Lily Potter's hair. She'd been seventeen the last time that she'd kissed anybody who wasn't Ted, wasn't her husband. She'd forgotten that there was such a thing as other kisses, as not Ted kisses. Lily kissed well, kissed deeply (had learnt to kiss by kissing brave and stupid bonny boys). Lily's tongue flickered against her lips; she opened her mouth and pushed her tongue back against Lily's, deepened the kiss, could not go back. She thought of Ted, but in her drunkenness, she dismissed all of that. Bad mother, bad wife, Black to the bone.
She kissed Lily back. Lily's leg was hooked up around her hips, holding their bodies tight together. Under a green silk trim, Andromeda ran a tentative hand over the ripe curve of Lily's arse. Her knickers were lace, barely there, confection, embellishment. Andromeda wasn't wearing any underwear, tight black trousers and a jewelled belt. She squeezed Lily's arse, pressing her fingertips under the ruffled edge of lace. She enjoyed the soft breathless sounds which the other girl made. Between their bodies, between Lily's pale thighs, was a pool of heat. Lily sat up a little, using her raised leg as a lever to manoeuvre Andromeda onto her back. Andromeda relinquished, allowed herself to be conquered.
"You've done this before..."
"This? What this?"
"No, but you have, haven't you?"
"Not since I was a wife...Shhh, shhh, it doesn't count..."
"Why doesn't it count?"
No more words but Lily's hand cupped Andromeda's breast, squeezing. She had a surer touch than Ted (knew exactly how it felt). Ted was a good lover, honest, but Lily...Lily Potter was a dangerous, wicked girl. She pushed down with the heel of hand hard enough to make a short sharp pain come, right against Andromeda's heart. She gasped, her hips rising to butt against Lily's. These things follow patterns. These things have happened before. She had never done anything like it before. Lily pushed her hand inside Andy's shirt, curling her fingers around her bare breast. Andy felt both passive and on fire.
"Undo your trousers for me, lovely," Lily whispered, not stopping, dragging her lip across Andy's nipple. This was it. It wasn't too late - not too late to get up and flue home and crawl into bed with Ted who would be warm and heavy in sleep. It wasn't too late, but it would be.
She fumbled for the buckle of her belt, the heavy belt which Ted hated because he said it looked cheap. He worked so hard to give her everything, anything, and she threw it back in his face unable to make good sense of it. He thought of him at home with the baby, the puzzle made of both of their blood and bone. She opened her trousers to Lily's cool touch. Lily had long fingers, which found the heart of Andy's slick heat. Her hips rose reflexively to the quick clever touch. Always, with Ted, even after years and years, there was a moment of doubt, a you remember this, lover, you do stutter. Lily went to the heart of the problem. Lily touched her quickly, firmly. Lily was rucking her own skirt up with a free hand, pushing her knickers down or to the side, so that she could nestle herself firmly against Andy's bare thigh where her trousers were slipping. They rocked together, desperately, and Andy closed her eyes and kissed Lily, pushed herself hard into the kiss, and Ted was behind her, in her head, like something in a dream. Lily pushed two fingers inside her without warning, which hurt, which was the best that she deserved. She wanted to do something to Lily, for Lily, to thoroughly implicate herself in this whole bloody mess, but, in the end, she just kept her thigh as firmly between Lily's thighs as she could, kissed as deeply as she dared.
Her orgasm when it came, was too small and too late. Lily pressed cries and kisses into a shallow bite mark on Andy's shoulder.
She left her earrings in the morning.