(Gotham) Hell Of A View
Title: Hell Of A View
Fandom: Gotham
Pairing: Barbara/Renee
Rating: NC-17
Words: 949
Notes: Exhibitionism. Roughplay. Mild drug use. For Ladies Bingo, prompt "sunrise/sunset", and a prompt at comment_fic.
Summary: The nights are when they're alive. It's in the harsh light of dawn that it always falls apart again.
It’s a hot summer’s night, and they’re well on their way to being drunk by the time the sun sinks over the horizon. Barbara watches the skyscrapers reaching up to the sky outside the open window of Renee’s apartment, endlessly tall buildings silhouetted by the glow, the city smog turning the prettiest shades of orange and pink.
She’s got Renee’s face between her legs, the back of her head pushing against the wall and Renee’s hands dragging her bare ass across the counter. Barbara’s gasping, twisting her fingers in Renee’s hair, but she can’t take her eyes off the sky, can’t take her eyes off the city: for that one moment, Gotham looks as peaceful as she’s ever seen it.
There are dirty dishes beside her, cracked tiles on the ceiling. The kitchen smells like cigarettes and home-cooked food, and Barbara moans as she comes, the last flash of sunlight seared across the back of her eyelids.
They crawl out on to the fire escape after, passing a joint back and forth. The air’s still humid and smoking just makes the heat worse, but that doesn’t stop them. Barbara’s wearing one of Renee’s old t-shirts; too big on her, the hemline coming down to her thighs, nothing underneath.
“Anyone looks up at you,” Renee tells her, tapping her heel against the open grating they’re sitting on, “they’re gonna get a hell of a view.”
Barbara laughs, pulls her hair back where it’s sticking to her neck. “Oh yeah?” she grins, pushing up on to her knees. She spreads her legs slow, holding Renee’s gaze the entire time, the bottom of the t-shirt rucking up a little. Fucking inviting people to look up, to see her exposed; maybe they’ll even be able to see from the alley below how damn wet Renee makes her.
“Barbara,” Renee growls, and Barbara leans forward, pulls the stretched-out neckline of the t-shirt down, baring her breasts.
Renee’s hand grabs her upper arm in a grip hard enough to bruise, and she hauls Barbara back in through the open window. Throws her facedown against the mattress and fucks her with four fingers while Barbara pulls at the sheets, rocking back against her and shouting Renee’s name over and over.
Barbara spreads across the bed when they’re done, t-shirt pushed up around her neck, legs sprawled out, sweat on her skin. It’s as dark as it’s gonna get outside, because on summer nights like these Gotham’s sky never gets all the way to black. “Fuck me all night,” she begs hoarsely.
Renee sighs, and her kiss tastes like sex. “I can’t,” she murmurs. “I’ve got work in the morning.”
She lets Barbara pull her down, licking salt from her neck. “I’m more important than work,” Barbara tells her, and there’s that frown she hates, creasing up Renee’s face as she pulls away.
“I can’t do this again,” Renee mutters. “I can’t have this same argument, over and over.”
Barbara tugs at the ends of Renee’s hair, leans up to brush her nose against Renee’s cheek. “I know,” she promises. “I know, I know, I’m sorry.” Renee turns away from Barbara’s kiss, pulls back, and Barbara drags herself up, gets to her feet and wraps her arms around Renee from behind. “Just let me touch you, I want to touch you.” She burrows her face against the curve of Renee’s shoulder. “Please. Then we’ll sleep, I’ll let you sleep.”
She fucks Renee slow, two fingers inside, her thumb stroking Renee’s clit so gently. Renee’s hips buck, try to push her faster, but Barbara draws it out as much as she can. Renee presses her lips together when she comes, her fist pounding down against the bed. “Why didn’t you cry out for me, baby?” Barbara whispers softly. “You know how much I love your voice.”
Renee just shakes her head, that frown back like it never left. She lies down, and it’s too hot to sleep in each other’s arms, but Barbara curls up against Renee’s side all the same.
She dozes, dreamless fits of sleep that leave her less rested than before. Renee rises before dawn, but Barbara closes her eyes, pretends to be asleep until the bathroom door closes.
She watches the sunrise out that same window, sat at the same counter they fucked on the night before, drinking cheap instant coffee while Renee showers.
“Take a sick day,” Barbara says with a smile when Renee steps out of the bathroom.
“God damn it!” Renee snarls, her palm slapping down beside the coffee Barbara made for her. “I won’t do this again, I told you that last night.”
Straight into the rage, because they’ve had this argument so many times that there’s no preamble anymore: it’s a giant ‘do not press’ button that Barbara can’t stay away from.
“I have a life, Barbara, I can’t just walk away from that whenever you’re feeling bored!”
Barbara’s eyes burn, her throat feels tight. She doesn’t know why she can’t leave that damn button alone. “So I don’t have a life?” she bellows, and one of Renee’s neighbours is banging on the wall, but neither listens. “I’m just your useless fucktoy, right?”
“I’m not the one toying with anyone,” Renee throws back at her.
The air’s already heating up when Barbara storms out of Renee’s building, even though it’s early enough that the streets are still mostly empty, her heels dangling from one hand and her dress only half-zipped. She’s exhausted, she always is these days. She’ll spend the day in bed, hating Renee, hating herself, hating everything.
But she already knows that at sunset she’ll be back in Renee’s apartment, ready to do it all over again.
Fandom: Gotham
Pairing: Barbara/Renee
Rating: NC-17
Words: 949
Notes: Exhibitionism. Roughplay. Mild drug use. For Ladies Bingo, prompt "sunrise/sunset", and a prompt at comment_fic.
Summary: The nights are when they're alive. It's in the harsh light of dawn that it always falls apart again.
It’s a hot summer’s night, and they’re well on their way to being drunk by the time the sun sinks over the horizon. Barbara watches the skyscrapers reaching up to the sky outside the open window of Renee’s apartment, endlessly tall buildings silhouetted by the glow, the city smog turning the prettiest shades of orange and pink.
She’s got Renee’s face between her legs, the back of her head pushing against the wall and Renee’s hands dragging her bare ass across the counter. Barbara’s gasping, twisting her fingers in Renee’s hair, but she can’t take her eyes off the sky, can’t take her eyes off the city: for that one moment, Gotham looks as peaceful as she’s ever seen it.
There are dirty dishes beside her, cracked tiles on the ceiling. The kitchen smells like cigarettes and home-cooked food, and Barbara moans as she comes, the last flash of sunlight seared across the back of her eyelids.
They crawl out on to the fire escape after, passing a joint back and forth. The air’s still humid and smoking just makes the heat worse, but that doesn’t stop them. Barbara’s wearing one of Renee’s old t-shirts; too big on her, the hemline coming down to her thighs, nothing underneath.
“Anyone looks up at you,” Renee tells her, tapping her heel against the open grating they’re sitting on, “they’re gonna get a hell of a view.”
Barbara laughs, pulls her hair back where it’s sticking to her neck. “Oh yeah?” she grins, pushing up on to her knees. She spreads her legs slow, holding Renee’s gaze the entire time, the bottom of the t-shirt rucking up a little. Fucking inviting people to look up, to see her exposed; maybe they’ll even be able to see from the alley below how damn wet Renee makes her.
“Barbara,” Renee growls, and Barbara leans forward, pulls the stretched-out neckline of the t-shirt down, baring her breasts.
Renee’s hand grabs her upper arm in a grip hard enough to bruise, and she hauls Barbara back in through the open window. Throws her facedown against the mattress and fucks her with four fingers while Barbara pulls at the sheets, rocking back against her and shouting Renee’s name over and over.
Barbara spreads across the bed when they’re done, t-shirt pushed up around her neck, legs sprawled out, sweat on her skin. It’s as dark as it’s gonna get outside, because on summer nights like these Gotham’s sky never gets all the way to black. “Fuck me all night,” she begs hoarsely.
Renee sighs, and her kiss tastes like sex. “I can’t,” she murmurs. “I’ve got work in the morning.”
She lets Barbara pull her down, licking salt from her neck. “I’m more important than work,” Barbara tells her, and there’s that frown she hates, creasing up Renee’s face as she pulls away.
“I can’t do this again,” Renee mutters. “I can’t have this same argument, over and over.”
Barbara tugs at the ends of Renee’s hair, leans up to brush her nose against Renee’s cheek. “I know,” she promises. “I know, I know, I’m sorry.” Renee turns away from Barbara’s kiss, pulls back, and Barbara drags herself up, gets to her feet and wraps her arms around Renee from behind. “Just let me touch you, I want to touch you.” She burrows her face against the curve of Renee’s shoulder. “Please. Then we’ll sleep, I’ll let you sleep.”
She fucks Renee slow, two fingers inside, her thumb stroking Renee’s clit so gently. Renee’s hips buck, try to push her faster, but Barbara draws it out as much as she can. Renee presses her lips together when she comes, her fist pounding down against the bed. “Why didn’t you cry out for me, baby?” Barbara whispers softly. “You know how much I love your voice.”
Renee just shakes her head, that frown back like it never left. She lies down, and it’s too hot to sleep in each other’s arms, but Barbara curls up against Renee’s side all the same.
She dozes, dreamless fits of sleep that leave her less rested than before. Renee rises before dawn, but Barbara closes her eyes, pretends to be asleep until the bathroom door closes.
She watches the sunrise out that same window, sat at the same counter they fucked on the night before, drinking cheap instant coffee while Renee showers.
“Take a sick day,” Barbara says with a smile when Renee steps out of the bathroom.
“God damn it!” Renee snarls, her palm slapping down beside the coffee Barbara made for her. “I won’t do this again, I told you that last night.”
Straight into the rage, because they’ve had this argument so many times that there’s no preamble anymore: it’s a giant ‘do not press’ button that Barbara can’t stay away from.
“I have a life, Barbara, I can’t just walk away from that whenever you’re feeling bored!”
Barbara’s eyes burn, her throat feels tight. She doesn’t know why she can’t leave that damn button alone. “So I don’t have a life?” she bellows, and one of Renee’s neighbours is banging on the wall, but neither listens. “I’m just your useless fucktoy, right?”
“I’m not the one toying with anyone,” Renee throws back at her.
The air’s already heating up when Barbara storms out of Renee’s building, even though it’s early enough that the streets are still mostly empty, her heels dangling from one hand and her dress only half-zipped. She’s exhausted, she always is these days. She’ll spend the day in bed, hating Renee, hating herself, hating everything.
But she already knows that at sunset she’ll be back in Renee’s apartment, ready to do it all over again.