Season of mists
anonymous
April 27 2012, 14:10:51 UTC
Hey, A!A. Please accept this tiny fic that I offer. __
"Season of mists!" Ashley says. "And mellow fruitfulness! Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun; Conspiring with him how to load and bless!" she giggles and nuzzles Jane's neck. "With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run-"
Jane cuts her off with a little kiss.
"Ah, Keats, he was a jolly one."
"That one is actually one of the brightest ones he wrote, Skipper," Ash says, huffing in offence, but snuggles closer to Jane.
"I'll show you jolly," Jane smirks and rolls atop of Ash, pinning her to the bed. Their noses touch briefly. "A pirate, history relates; Was scuffling with some of his mates; When he slipped on a cutlass; Which rendered him nutless; And practically useless on dates!"
They both giggle, Jane strokes Ashley's cheek. Ash stops giggling, looks into Jane's eyes, runs her hands down her sides. She sighs contently, smiles a little. She presses her forehead to Jane's, gives her another little kiss, then pushes her off.
Jane stretches when Ashley leans over her, placing several kisses on her belly.
"Tyger! Tyger! Burning bright," she whispers, placing kisses lower, on Jane's hip. "In the forests of the night," She pulls Jane's shorts down slightly, teasing the revealed skin with more kisses. "What immortal hand or eye," she she licks a long trail from the belly button to the hem of the shorts. "Could frame thy fearful symmetry?"
Jane sighs, stroking Ashley's hair. The thick, black curtain tickles her skin, obscuring everything that Ash is doing behind it.
Between gasps and and moans, she tries to recite her own favourite.
"If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, Or walk with Kings-nor lose the common touch, If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you, If all men count with you, but none too much: If you can fill the unforgiving minute With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run, Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it, And-which is more-you’ll be a Man, my son!" _____
To Autumn by John Keats Some limerick Tyger by William Blake If-- by Rudyard Kipling
__
"Season of mists!" Ashley says. "And mellow fruitfulness! Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun; Conspiring with him how to load and bless!" she giggles and nuzzles Jane's neck. "With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run-"
Jane cuts her off with a little kiss.
"Ah, Keats, he was a jolly one."
"That one is actually one of the brightest ones he wrote, Skipper," Ash says, huffing in offence, but snuggles closer to Jane.
"I'll show you jolly," Jane smirks and rolls atop of Ash, pinning her to the bed. Their noses touch briefly. "A pirate, history relates; Was scuffling with some of his mates; When he slipped on a cutlass; Which rendered him nutless; And practically useless on dates!"
They both giggle, Jane strokes Ashley's cheek. Ash stops giggling, looks into Jane's eyes, runs her hands down her sides. She sighs contently, smiles a little. She presses her forehead to Jane's, gives her another little kiss, then pushes her off.
Jane stretches when Ashley leans over her, placing several kisses on her belly.
"Tyger! Tyger! Burning bright," she whispers, placing kisses lower, on Jane's hip. "In the forests of the night," She pulls Jane's shorts down slightly, teasing the revealed skin with more kisses. "What immortal hand or eye," she she licks a long trail from the belly button to the hem of the shorts. "Could frame thy fearful symmetry?"
Jane sighs, stroking Ashley's hair. The thick, black curtain tickles her skin, obscuring everything that Ash is doing behind it.
Between gasps and and moans, she tries to recite her own favourite.
"If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings-nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And-which is more-you’ll be a Man, my son!"
_____
To Autumn by John Keats
Some limerick
Tyger by William Blake
If-- by Rudyard Kipling
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They are yours! :D
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