Ficmas: Post #4 (femslash edition)
For inkruns:
Danneel/Genevieve, decorating the Christmas tree
The tree stretches almost to the ceiling, full and huge and giving off the clean smell of pine. As a general rule, Gen's a fan of everything on a grand scale, but this -- okay, this is just unnecessary. She clutches at the ladder, steadying, white-knuckled. "I cannot fucking believe they came back with this massive-ass tree. Jesus, what possessed them?"
“You told them to get the biggest one they could fit in the truck bed,” Danneel points out, stringing beads around the crown of the tree.
“Yeah, in the truck bed," Gen protests, "not 'perched precariously on the back of the truck with most of it actually just hanging right out in the road."” She slides her hands up the backs of Danneel's thighs and squeezes, keeping her steady. Miles above, Danneel is now restringing the section of tree she just decked, and Gen has horrible visions of the ladder giving out before she's done if she keeps on at this rate. "Babe, it doesn't have to be perfect, you know."
“Not perfect," Danneel counters, "but nice, okay? Have a little patience."
Gen snorts. "What, you mean like you did last night?"
"Last night you were dicking around instead of just letting me come like I wanted you to. It's not a very good comparison."
"Yeah, well," Gen puts in, "it's not going to be a very good Christmas Eve if this ladder collapses and you fall six million feet and crush me."
Danneel pauses in her stringing to grin over her shoulder, one eyebrow raised. "Are you calling me fat, bitch?"
Gen laughs. Her right hand, firm on the back of Danneel's thigh, slips surreptitiously higher until the round curve of Danneel's ass is cupped in her palm. "I'm calling you something I'd rather didn't wind up injured because of some stupid massive tree only an idiot would have thought was suitable for a house this size, Jesus."
"So you're calling my best friend an idiot, now?" Danneel persists, but she's grinning, reaching back with one hand to take hold of Gen's wrist.
"They're both idiots," Gen says, "and so are you; put your hand back on the ladder where it belongs!"
"Safety freak," Danneel teases, and Gen shrugs.
"Hey, if you're gonna end up on top of me, I'd rather it was in the fun way rather than the trip-to-the-emergency-room way, I'm just saying."
Danneel pauses for a beat, and then skids back down the ladder in three strides, brushing her hands off on her jeans. "Okay, tree's done."
Gen laughs. "Oh, yeah? What about the -- "
"We have idiots to see to that shit," Danneel says, and kisses her.
For blue_fjords:
Genevieve/Cindy Sampson, cunnilingus and good times. :)
Sometimes, the best part was watching. The muscles in Gen's arms were starting to shake with the effort of supporting her, elbows anchored in the mattress, but Cindy was an honest-to-God artist at work, and that was worth paying attention to. She watched the dark head descending over pale skin, shivering as Cindy's tongue trailed down her sternum, pausing to dip into her navel, and then moved lower. When she reached the junction of thigh to pelvis, feathering a kiss there, Gen's whole body jerked. God, yeah.
"Yeah," Gen prompted, hitching her hips up off the mattress. "Yeah, do it."
Below her, Cindy's smile was wicked, tip of her tongue caught between her teeth."You're gonna come so hard you won't even remember your own name," she said, palming Gen's thighs gently, firmly apart. With aching gentleness, she pressed a kiss to the very lowest point of the pubic thatch, and then another, lower, that made Gen shiver. "You'll remember mine, though, won't you?" Gen could feel herself slicking, pussy hot and swollen with sensation, and when Cindy's fingers traced the length of the wet slit, she couldn't fight the flutter of muscles in her stomach, the inchoate cry.
Not that Cindy seemed to mind. Her thumb found Gen's wetness, drew it upward. "Gen," she said. "Say it for me."
"Cindy," Gen gasped, half obedience and half instinct, canting her hips upward. "Cindy. Come on, Cindy, please."
"I'm good at this," Cindy told her, mildly, and descended.
At the first touch of her tongue, it was all Gen could do to bite back a scream. Cindy licked her slowly, lingeringly, as if she had never craved anything the way she craved the slick-hot-musky taste of Gen under her tongue, the way Gen's body arched up against her face. Cindy's fingers traced patterns on her thighs, feather light, as her tongue worked its way expertly up to find her clit: circling, flicking over and against it, sucking it into her mouth until Gen's legs trembled with the overload of sensation. "Fuck," she panted, "fuck - Cindy - Cindy!"
Cindy hummed against her, half-laughingly, and the vibrations were enough to set her stomach tingling with waves of heated tension that spread to her upper thighs, her chest, all blossoming out from that place between her legs where Cindy's mouth was, clever and quick. "Fuck," she gasped again, "fuck it, Cindy, god dammit - "
And then Cindy's fingers were inside of her, crooked upward ever so slightly towards the spongy place that made her vision white out, and she was coming as if she didn't care who heard.
Five seconds later, Cindy was on top of her again, licking the taste of her back into her mouth, cunt riding wet against Gen's thigh in a way that said more to come more clearly than any words.
Gen, skin still singing from the force of her orgasm, was pretty sure she could work with that.
For twoskeletons:
Cassie Robinson/Gwen Campbell. To Gwen's surprise, Cassie knows a little bit about the supernatural.
She said it had begun with a guy. Hell, didn't everything? Uprisings, downfalls. She spat in the dirt, silver-dollar shine of saliva riding the edge of Gwen's boot.
"Sorry." And she smiled, but there was nothing in it really, just the white flash of teeth in her brown face. Just the beauty of it, and no promises. This girl wasn't the sort to make promises, not any more.
"How do I know," Gwen said, "how do I know you're not one of them?" But she knew. It had been harder to tell, at first, but Gwen had gotten the hang of it. Picking off Croats was something she had learned to do easily, with practice. Like killing.
This girl hadn't gotten to the camp yet. This girl didn't know what Gwen knew, but damn, she knew a lot of shit a civilian wouldn't. Carried a gun strapped close to her hip, kept a sharp eye out. It said a lot that she'd gotten this far; but not quite everything.
Gwen rarely wanted to know everything about anyone these days. This one was an exception.
Something about the way she stood, maybe; the way she tossed her head, defiant. The flash of her eyes. She said, "Do I look like one of them?" And then her hand shot out, slim and quick and fisting in Gwen's hair. Gwen could have stopped her, but she made no move to do so. It wasn't what a Croat would have done.
"No," she said, soft. "Guess not."
She moved like the hammer of a pistol, decisive, final. Her mouth slip-skidded soft and firm over Gwen's before her teeth came into play, working at the swell of Gwen's lower lip and licking inside. Gwen tasted spit, raw and human; the sourness, beneath it, of ketosis.
When the girl pulled back, Gwen said, "Should get you something to eat, dude. You must be short."
The girl laughed, this time for real, although her guards were still up. "Actually," she said, "I'm Cassie. And also, ravenous."
***
Sorry guys, there is no way these are all getting done by 24 December as promised, since I'm going to be basically afk from Thursday until Tuesday. But they will all get done eventually, if not on time, promise. :)
Danneel/Genevieve, decorating the Christmas tree
The tree stretches almost to the ceiling, full and huge and giving off the clean smell of pine. As a general rule, Gen's a fan of everything on a grand scale, but this -- okay, this is just unnecessary. She clutches at the ladder, steadying, white-knuckled. "I cannot fucking believe they came back with this massive-ass tree. Jesus, what possessed them?"
“You told them to get the biggest one they could fit in the truck bed,” Danneel points out, stringing beads around the crown of the tree.
“Yeah, in the truck bed," Gen protests, "not 'perched precariously on the back of the truck with most of it actually just hanging right out in the road."” She slides her hands up the backs of Danneel's thighs and squeezes, keeping her steady. Miles above, Danneel is now restringing the section of tree she just decked, and Gen has horrible visions of the ladder giving out before she's done if she keeps on at this rate. "Babe, it doesn't have to be perfect, you know."
“Not perfect," Danneel counters, "but nice, okay? Have a little patience."
Gen snorts. "What, you mean like you did last night?"
"Last night you were dicking around instead of just letting me come like I wanted you to. It's not a very good comparison."
"Yeah, well," Gen puts in, "it's not going to be a very good Christmas Eve if this ladder collapses and you fall six million feet and crush me."
Danneel pauses in her stringing to grin over her shoulder, one eyebrow raised. "Are you calling me fat, bitch?"
Gen laughs. Her right hand, firm on the back of Danneel's thigh, slips surreptitiously higher until the round curve of Danneel's ass is cupped in her palm. "I'm calling you something I'd rather didn't wind up injured because of some stupid massive tree only an idiot would have thought was suitable for a house this size, Jesus."
"So you're calling my best friend an idiot, now?" Danneel persists, but she's grinning, reaching back with one hand to take hold of Gen's wrist.
"They're both idiots," Gen says, "and so are you; put your hand back on the ladder where it belongs!"
"Safety freak," Danneel teases, and Gen shrugs.
"Hey, if you're gonna end up on top of me, I'd rather it was in the fun way rather than the trip-to-the-emergency-room way, I'm just saying."
Danneel pauses for a beat, and then skids back down the ladder in three strides, brushing her hands off on her jeans. "Okay, tree's done."
Gen laughs. "Oh, yeah? What about the -- "
"We have idiots to see to that shit," Danneel says, and kisses her.
For blue_fjords:
Genevieve/Cindy Sampson, cunnilingus and good times. :)
Sometimes, the best part was watching. The muscles in Gen's arms were starting to shake with the effort of supporting her, elbows anchored in the mattress, but Cindy was an honest-to-God artist at work, and that was worth paying attention to. She watched the dark head descending over pale skin, shivering as Cindy's tongue trailed down her sternum, pausing to dip into her navel, and then moved lower. When she reached the junction of thigh to pelvis, feathering a kiss there, Gen's whole body jerked. God, yeah.
"Yeah," Gen prompted, hitching her hips up off the mattress. "Yeah, do it."
Below her, Cindy's smile was wicked, tip of her tongue caught between her teeth."You're gonna come so hard you won't even remember your own name," she said, palming Gen's thighs gently, firmly apart. With aching gentleness, she pressed a kiss to the very lowest point of the pubic thatch, and then another, lower, that made Gen shiver. "You'll remember mine, though, won't you?" Gen could feel herself slicking, pussy hot and swollen with sensation, and when Cindy's fingers traced the length of the wet slit, she couldn't fight the flutter of muscles in her stomach, the inchoate cry.
Not that Cindy seemed to mind. Her thumb found Gen's wetness, drew it upward. "Gen," she said. "Say it for me."
"Cindy," Gen gasped, half obedience and half instinct, canting her hips upward. "Cindy. Come on, Cindy, please."
"I'm good at this," Cindy told her, mildly, and descended.
At the first touch of her tongue, it was all Gen could do to bite back a scream. Cindy licked her slowly, lingeringly, as if she had never craved anything the way she craved the slick-hot-musky taste of Gen under her tongue, the way Gen's body arched up against her face. Cindy's fingers traced patterns on her thighs, feather light, as her tongue worked its way expertly up to find her clit: circling, flicking over and against it, sucking it into her mouth until Gen's legs trembled with the overload of sensation. "Fuck," she panted, "fuck - Cindy - Cindy!"
Cindy hummed against her, half-laughingly, and the vibrations were enough to set her stomach tingling with waves of heated tension that spread to her upper thighs, her chest, all blossoming out from that place between her legs where Cindy's mouth was, clever and quick. "Fuck," she gasped again, "fuck it, Cindy, god dammit - "
And then Cindy's fingers were inside of her, crooked upward ever so slightly towards the spongy place that made her vision white out, and she was coming as if she didn't care who heard.
Five seconds later, Cindy was on top of her again, licking the taste of her back into her mouth, cunt riding wet against Gen's thigh in a way that said more to come more clearly than any words.
Gen, skin still singing from the force of her orgasm, was pretty sure she could work with that.
For twoskeletons:
Cassie Robinson/Gwen Campbell. To Gwen's surprise, Cassie knows a little bit about the supernatural.
She said it had begun with a guy. Hell, didn't everything? Uprisings, downfalls. She spat in the dirt, silver-dollar shine of saliva riding the edge of Gwen's boot.
"Sorry." And she smiled, but there was nothing in it really, just the white flash of teeth in her brown face. Just the beauty of it, and no promises. This girl wasn't the sort to make promises, not any more.
"How do I know," Gwen said, "how do I know you're not one of them?" But she knew. It had been harder to tell, at first, but Gwen had gotten the hang of it. Picking off Croats was something she had learned to do easily, with practice. Like killing.
This girl hadn't gotten to the camp yet. This girl didn't know what Gwen knew, but damn, she knew a lot of shit a civilian wouldn't. Carried a gun strapped close to her hip, kept a sharp eye out. It said a lot that she'd gotten this far; but not quite everything.
Gwen rarely wanted to know everything about anyone these days. This one was an exception.
Something about the way she stood, maybe; the way she tossed her head, defiant. The flash of her eyes. She said, "Do I look like one of them?" And then her hand shot out, slim and quick and fisting in Gwen's hair. Gwen could have stopped her, but she made no move to do so. It wasn't what a Croat would have done.
"No," she said, soft. "Guess not."
She moved like the hammer of a pistol, decisive, final. Her mouth slip-skidded soft and firm over Gwen's before her teeth came into play, working at the swell of Gwen's lower lip and licking inside. Gwen tasted spit, raw and human; the sourness, beneath it, of ketosis.
When the girl pulled back, Gwen said, "Should get you something to eat, dude. You must be short."
The girl laughed, this time for real, although her guards were still up. "Actually," she said, "I'm Cassie. And also, ravenous."
***
Sorry guys, there is no way these are all getting done by 24 December as promised, since I'm going to be basically afk from Thursday until Tuesday. But they will all get done eventually, if not on time, promise. :)