Drabbletag - Tactile
Title: So Sweet A Touch
Prompt: Drabbletag 5 - Tactile
Fandom: Marvel
Pairing: Ororo/Rogue
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 250
Rogue may have skin like poison, but she still craves touch. She has to be careful, of course, but she trusts Ororo as implicitly as Ororo trusts her, and they’ve grown practiced at this over the years.
The gloves are a necessity, it's true, but they’re thin enough that Ororo can feel the heat of Rogue’s skin under her fingers. Rogue’s hand is at her chest, palming the curve of Ororo’s breast, the other tight against her hip.
Rogue smiles sultrily, the air humid as she breathes wetly against Ororo’s ear. Not close enough for contact, but heat still warms Ororo from the inside out, and she grins as she slides a hand down to grip Rogue’s ass.
Rogue sniggers, soft and wicked, and then her hand is between Ororo’s legs. Stroking the lines of her labia through gloves and panties, and Ororo lets her head fall back, groaning for the sensation.
“So wet for me, ‘Ro,” Rogue murmurs, accent dragging the words out into something indecent and hypnotic. “Love the way you feel.”
Ororo’s fingers drag over Rogue’s hip, tug her underwear down her thighs. Her gloves are opera-length, covered to her elbows, and that gives her the freedom to press her wrist against Rogue’s cunt as she pushes deep with two fingers.
“So beautiful,” she breathes, and Rogue laughs a little ruefully. But then Ororo curves her fingers just so, and Rogue’s crying out for her, for the touch that she needs, like it’s air in her lungs.
Prompt: Drabbletag 5 - Tactile
Fandom: Marvel
Pairing: Ororo/Rogue
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 250
Rogue may have skin like poison, but she still craves touch. She has to be careful, of course, but she trusts Ororo as implicitly as Ororo trusts her, and they’ve grown practiced at this over the years.
The gloves are a necessity, it's true, but they’re thin enough that Ororo can feel the heat of Rogue’s skin under her fingers. Rogue’s hand is at her chest, palming the curve of Ororo’s breast, the other tight against her hip.
Rogue smiles sultrily, the air humid as she breathes wetly against Ororo’s ear. Not close enough for contact, but heat still warms Ororo from the inside out, and she grins as she slides a hand down to grip Rogue’s ass.
Rogue sniggers, soft and wicked, and then her hand is between Ororo’s legs. Stroking the lines of her labia through gloves and panties, and Ororo lets her head fall back, groaning for the sensation.
“So wet for me, ‘Ro,” Rogue murmurs, accent dragging the words out into something indecent and hypnotic. “Love the way you feel.”
Ororo’s fingers drag over Rogue’s hip, tug her underwear down her thighs. Her gloves are opera-length, covered to her elbows, and that gives her the freedom to press her wrist against Rogue’s cunt as she pushes deep with two fingers.
“So beautiful,” she breathes, and Rogue laughs a little ruefully. But then Ororo curves her fingers just so, and Rogue’s crying out for her, for the touch that she needs, like it’s air in her lungs.