fic: 'phone sex and 501s' (skins)
phone sex and 501s
Skins; Emily/Naomi
348 words, M
Huh. Hey. Big thoughts.
Notes: Written for liesofdesire as part of Yuletide Madness 2009. Title from 'Dirty Epic' by Underworld. (Just kill me.)
Beside her, Emily is catastrophically high - giggling like a small child, lying on her back in the uncut grass and gazing upwards into forever. Naomi herself is pleasantly buzzed, too - head as wonderfully empty as the bright, blue sky above them. The remnants of a roach is lying in the grass somewhere behind them, discarded and forgotten.
The sun feels good on Naomi's face. She opens her eyes for a brief second then, blinded by the sunlight, closes them again. Her arms are bare and her skin feels like it's shimmering.
"What's so funny, Emily?" she asks, lazily, then finds she's unable to stop smiling like some sort of fucking moron. It's kind of nice.
Emily's voice trembles with suppressed laughter. "D'you ever think about the future, Naomi?" she asks. "Where this - where everybody's going?"
Naomi rolls over, finds that she's suddenly maneuvered herself into Emily's side, arms resting against each other, breathing into the dirt. She considers Emily's question for a brief moment, but finds herself confronted by too many unknowns, too many questions for her to deal with. Who fucking knew, she wondered. A bird is singing in a tree somewhere nearby, and the smell of soil is strong in her nostrils. A cool breeze ruffles her short hair like a lover's gentle hand. The future? she thinks, moving her arm to cover Emily's stomach, gently running her fingers up and down her side, then slipping underneath her shirt. Emily's pale skin looks almost luminous in the sunlight, and she's not wearing a bra, it seems. Her grin grows even wider.
"Fuck it," she murmurs, and in a surprisingly graceful movement for somebody so completely stoned, slides herself on top of Emily's impossibly tiny, delicate frame and touches her lips to Emily's.
Emily tastes like smoke and sugar, warm and sweet and good. She feels Emily's fingers running through her hair and holding onto gently, and she wonders - who needs the future, when she's happy floating here, in this moment, suspended in time?
Skins; Emily/Naomi
348 words, M
Huh. Hey. Big thoughts.
Notes: Written for liesofdesire as part of Yuletide Madness 2009. Title from 'Dirty Epic' by Underworld. (Just kill me.)
Beside her, Emily is catastrophically high - giggling like a small child, lying on her back in the uncut grass and gazing upwards into forever. Naomi herself is pleasantly buzzed, too - head as wonderfully empty as the bright, blue sky above them. The remnants of a roach is lying in the grass somewhere behind them, discarded and forgotten.
The sun feels good on Naomi's face. She opens her eyes for a brief second then, blinded by the sunlight, closes them again. Her arms are bare and her skin feels like it's shimmering.
"What's so funny, Emily?" she asks, lazily, then finds she's unable to stop smiling like some sort of fucking moron. It's kind of nice.
Emily's voice trembles with suppressed laughter. "D'you ever think about the future, Naomi?" she asks. "Where this - where everybody's going?"
Naomi rolls over, finds that she's suddenly maneuvered herself into Emily's side, arms resting against each other, breathing into the dirt. She considers Emily's question for a brief moment, but finds herself confronted by too many unknowns, too many questions for her to deal with. Who fucking knew, she wondered. A bird is singing in a tree somewhere nearby, and the smell of soil is strong in her nostrils. A cool breeze ruffles her short hair like a lover's gentle hand. The future? she thinks, moving her arm to cover Emily's stomach, gently running her fingers up and down her side, then slipping underneath her shirt. Emily's pale skin looks almost luminous in the sunlight, and she's not wearing a bra, it seems. Her grin grows even wider.
"Fuck it," she murmurs, and in a surprisingly graceful movement for somebody so completely stoned, slides herself on top of Emily's impossibly tiny, delicate frame and touches her lips to Emily's.
Emily tastes like smoke and sugar, warm and sweet and good. She feels Emily's fingers running through her hair and holding onto gently, and she wonders - who needs the future, when she's happy floating here, in this moment, suspended in time?