FIC: Thicker than Water (Mary Kate/Ashley Olsen. NC-17)
Title: Thicker than Water
Pairing: Mary Kate/Ashley Olsen
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Real person slash, incest.
Feedback: Please!
Disclaimer: This never happened and is all in my head. If you're liable to be offended just don't read it.
Summary: Collapsed and legless she slides your legs open and you sprawl like you've done this a thousand times before, and you have, but never like this and you don't want it but you do and you don't know where anything is but her.
Based on this snippet from InTouch magazine:
Pictures from the trip also show Ashley snuggling with Matt on one side of a king-sized bed while Mary-Kate sleeps on the other! 'They are normal teens, with normal interests in boys,' says one friend. 'Like any kids their age, they need to break out occasionally. Mary-Kate in particular has a wild side.' And according to one newspaper, last year one of the girls was overheard telling the other in Toronto: 'Alcohol tastes just like water!'
So hard to keep your eyes open now and they're darting from side to side and your head feels so heavy that your neck can't quite hold it up. Slumped on the bed like death and there's no cool repose here, just your jeans chafing and your shirt slipping off your shoulder - skin so sore and tight and god you want to sleep but the world's spinning like it will never stop and you feel more sick when you close your eyes and that thick, engulfing darkness moves round you like it's unsteady or tangible and intent on swallowing you whole.
Breath like stale alcohol and cigarettes and your voice is cracking and Ashley's no better as she tells you it's alright and it's fine and struggles onto the bed with you. Lays her head on your stomach and it doesn't still the churning but you feel sort of safer, like, you're not alone and god you feel so sick and your mouth already tastes of vomit you're sure but she doesn't care when she kisses you. Sick-sweet and cloying, like everything between you, bitter and tart and shouldn't-be-but-is as her kisses start but never really end and it's like she falls into your mouth as she looks at you through heavy lidded dull eyes. Like going through the motions but not as you start crying and she knows it hurts and you feel so ill but she'll kiss it better. You're slack jawed and fucking smashed right now and she's giving you a glass of water and you swallow as much as you can and let the rest pool out of your mouth and soak into the pillow... lax and boneless as you sprawl, revelling in youth and wanting it to be over already.
She tells you it's time for bed and she's slightly less drunk, for once, and you kneel up, crawling til you can semi-stand and lift your arms for her to pull your top off then watch helplessly as she yanks your trousers off. Bra strap sliding down already and she unclips it and pushes you back onto the bed, slides your panties over narrow hips with crushingly prominent bones, pulls a bigger shirt on and you struggle with it til it's over your head and body and you're not so confined but the world's still through a filter and you feel so nauseous. Collapsed and legless she slides your legs open and you sprawl like you've done this a thousand times before, and you have, but never like this and you don't want it but you do and you don't know where anything is but her. Slides a finger over your clit and you moan half-heartedly and let it happen - like masturbation but better as you watch her face as she concentrates, like you but not, like herself but more than that. Spits on her finger and rubs you more and you rock into it like everything you've never dreamed of and you can't see her face anymore but you don't want to and you're glad you can't see that rawness in her eyes when she looks at you watching her.
So so drunk and it's always been this way for you - childish games grown up and filled out and given all that subtext and tension that it never had when you were small. Dares from an ex and champagne flowing like water as he watched you and you pretended you didn't know that her breasts fitted your hands just like this, you didn't know that she tensed her right foot before she came, you didn't know her tongue fitted you better than anything else.. Sworn to secrecy of course and no one would believe it if they knew (although you know they wish it in their greedy, groping stares) - sly, static smiles on your faces in public and sisterly love as a facade to mask the rancid undertones of who you are and what you do. You make yourself sick but god it's hot as she licks you right there, and no one's known how to do it but her for years of hotel rooms and avaricious, vicious boys-nearly-men who want to do you and boast but you never tighten your knees round their head and convulse hopelessly whilst they lick, lick, lick with their sandpaper dry tongues.
Slides a finger inside you and you're so tight and warm and you know exactly how it feels to be inside, and safe - protected and held like she holds you afterwards when you cry slick, helpless tears and tell her never again until the next time you let her do this, or the next time you give in and kiss her and taste her.
Wriggles up your body, taking your shirt with her, and slides her tongue into your mouth and you suck it like some home-porn film that thousands would pay to see - hot and feverish as you touch her roughly and jerk your hand like some fucked up punishment for being your sister and making you want her and making you need this as the one stability in an endlessly turning convulsion of places and people. Taste of you on her tongue and it's just like her, you know, but she tastes like home and suddenly you don't need anything but her as she leans up and breathes out a soft breath that touches at the air then retreats as she slumps forward, head between your sweat-slicked breasts as she listens to your heartbeat and knows hers sounds just the same.
Know that you're sick and this is twisted but slide your hands over her skin that you've touched so many times it might as well be your own...
Blood is thicker than water.
--end
Pairing: Mary Kate/Ashley Olsen
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Real person slash, incest.
Feedback: Please!
Disclaimer: This never happened and is all in my head. If you're liable to be offended just don't read it.
Summary: Collapsed and legless she slides your legs open and you sprawl like you've done this a thousand times before, and you have, but never like this and you don't want it but you do and you don't know where anything is but her.
Based on this snippet from InTouch magazine:
Pictures from the trip also show Ashley snuggling with Matt on one side of a king-sized bed while Mary-Kate sleeps on the other! 'They are normal teens, with normal interests in boys,' says one friend. 'Like any kids their age, they need to break out occasionally. Mary-Kate in particular has a wild side.' And according to one newspaper, last year one of the girls was overheard telling the other in Toronto: 'Alcohol tastes just like water!'
So hard to keep your eyes open now and they're darting from side to side and your head feels so heavy that your neck can't quite hold it up. Slumped on the bed like death and there's no cool repose here, just your jeans chafing and your shirt slipping off your shoulder - skin so sore and tight and god you want to sleep but the world's spinning like it will never stop and you feel more sick when you close your eyes and that thick, engulfing darkness moves round you like it's unsteady or tangible and intent on swallowing you whole.
Breath like stale alcohol and cigarettes and your voice is cracking and Ashley's no better as she tells you it's alright and it's fine and struggles onto the bed with you. Lays her head on your stomach and it doesn't still the churning but you feel sort of safer, like, you're not alone and god you feel so sick and your mouth already tastes of vomit you're sure but she doesn't care when she kisses you. Sick-sweet and cloying, like everything between you, bitter and tart and shouldn't-be-but-is as her kisses start but never really end and it's like she falls into your mouth as she looks at you through heavy lidded dull eyes. Like going through the motions but not as you start crying and she knows it hurts and you feel so ill but she'll kiss it better. You're slack jawed and fucking smashed right now and she's giving you a glass of water and you swallow as much as you can and let the rest pool out of your mouth and soak into the pillow... lax and boneless as you sprawl, revelling in youth and wanting it to be over already.
She tells you it's time for bed and she's slightly less drunk, for once, and you kneel up, crawling til you can semi-stand and lift your arms for her to pull your top off then watch helplessly as she yanks your trousers off. Bra strap sliding down already and she unclips it and pushes you back onto the bed, slides your panties over narrow hips with crushingly prominent bones, pulls a bigger shirt on and you struggle with it til it's over your head and body and you're not so confined but the world's still through a filter and you feel so nauseous. Collapsed and legless she slides your legs open and you sprawl like you've done this a thousand times before, and you have, but never like this and you don't want it but you do and you don't know where anything is but her. Slides a finger over your clit and you moan half-heartedly and let it happen - like masturbation but better as you watch her face as she concentrates, like you but not, like herself but more than that. Spits on her finger and rubs you more and you rock into it like everything you've never dreamed of and you can't see her face anymore but you don't want to and you're glad you can't see that rawness in her eyes when she looks at you watching her.
So so drunk and it's always been this way for you - childish games grown up and filled out and given all that subtext and tension that it never had when you were small. Dares from an ex and champagne flowing like water as he watched you and you pretended you didn't know that her breasts fitted your hands just like this, you didn't know that she tensed her right foot before she came, you didn't know her tongue fitted you better than anything else.. Sworn to secrecy of course and no one would believe it if they knew (although you know they wish it in their greedy, groping stares) - sly, static smiles on your faces in public and sisterly love as a facade to mask the rancid undertones of who you are and what you do. You make yourself sick but god it's hot as she licks you right there, and no one's known how to do it but her for years of hotel rooms and avaricious, vicious boys-nearly-men who want to do you and boast but you never tighten your knees round their head and convulse hopelessly whilst they lick, lick, lick with their sandpaper dry tongues.
Slides a finger inside you and you're so tight and warm and you know exactly how it feels to be inside, and safe - protected and held like she holds you afterwards when you cry slick, helpless tears and tell her never again until the next time you let her do this, or the next time you give in and kiss her and taste her.
Wriggles up your body, taking your shirt with her, and slides her tongue into your mouth and you suck it like some home-porn film that thousands would pay to see - hot and feverish as you touch her roughly and jerk your hand like some fucked up punishment for being your sister and making you want her and making you need this as the one stability in an endlessly turning convulsion of places and people. Taste of you on her tongue and it's just like her, you know, but she tastes like home and suddenly you don't need anything but her as she leans up and breathes out a soft breath that touches at the air then retreats as she slumps forward, head between your sweat-slicked breasts as she listens to your heartbeat and knows hers sounds just the same.
Know that you're sick and this is twisted but slide your hands over her skin that you've touched so many times it might as well be your own...
Blood is thicker than water.
--end