Messy
Messy.
1,835 words of fail. NC-17. PWP. Vanessa Hudgens/Ashley Tisdale.
I'm so ashamed of this, lol.
Ashley doesn’t look all that impressed. That’s probably an understatement.
She’s not really clad in much, a pair of an ex-boyfriends boxers and a loose white singlet, bra bright and blue beneath it and Vanessa smiles a little, watches Ashley cross fake-brown arms over her chest when she catches Vanessa looking.
“Thought you were going to Zac’s tonight,” Ashley says, and it comes out as a statement more than a question, a fuck you, a fuck off, but Vanessa’s never pretended she’s good at being denied. Doesn’t get off on acting like she hasn’t had everything handed to her on a silver platter, slid across stretched pine tables. There were always promises in crystal wineglasses, loyalties that still get thrown around with the dirty napkins. Her relationships won’t ever be any different.
Vanessa shrugs, and she drops her purse on Ashley’s coffee table, dusts off a bit of dirt from the bottom of her jacket. “Guess I changed my mind, huh?”
Ashley’s not easily seduced, and Vanessa figures that’s half her charm. She’s used to people wanting to fuck her, work their way between trembling thighs and Vanessa’s not sure when Ashley’s loose easy smile became more of a promise than a threat, a challenge than a competition.
“Guess I did too,” Ashley says, and she turns around, sways her hips as she does it, flicks her hair. “Invitation revoked, honey. You can let yourself out.”
Vanessa just takes off her jacket, drops it straight on the floor, and she’s dressed in some strappy, fitted thing, that pulls in tight at the waist, hugs her breasts, hips, and when she unzips it at the back, it falls off like she’s shedding skin, losing the night in the folds of the dress.
The way Ashley turns back, rolls her eyes, isn’t unexpected. The grin is. “You’re too old for your fans,” she says, and she puts a hand on her hip. “What teen star looks like that,” and she nods her head at Vanessa’s lacy bra, her tiny panties and five-inch pumps, and says. “You ever think about porn?”
“Sure,” Vanessa says, and she wanders over until she has Ashley up against the wall, mumbles down into her ear, “but for now I’m happy giving pre-teens their first wet nights.”
Ashley smiles and maybe there isn’t anything kind about it, leans over and wraps her arms around Vanessa’s neck and says, “At least you’re keeping your options open,” and her smile just widens when she feels Vanessa’s fingers tug at the hem of her singlet.
“I have a theory,” Vanessa hums, and she pulls Ashley’s singlet up a little further, enough to expose a bronzed belly, coppering beneath spray tan, and she splays her fingers there, works her thumb over Ashley’s sharp hip. “You’re a little in love with me.”
Ashley snorts dramatically, quirks an eyebrow and says, “I think those pretty shoes have made you a little in love with you,” and Vanessa grins, hikes Ashley’s singlet up enough that she can press the tips of her fingers against Ashley’s breasts, watch the flush bleed across her chest.
Vanessa doesn’t bother with the retort, crashes her mouth down onto Ashley’s instead, presses down with glossed lips and Ashley’s response is immediate, entangling a hand in Vanessa’s hair and parting her lips enough for Vanessa to work her tongue in. Ashley pulls away, moves enough to latch herself onto Vanessa’s neck, suck and bite down against the tendon until Vanessa has to catch herself, hold a hand up beside Ashley’s head, bed it in the wall.
“Come on, Vanessa,” Ashley mumbles, and there’s something predatory underneath it, taunting, “You can do better than this,” and Vanessa growls a little, hard into her throat, and shoves Ashley back, gets her fingers into the waistband of Ashley’s boxers and pulls them down. She grabs at Ashley’s legs until the plaid fabric pools at her ankles, and Ashley laughs a little, deeper than her usual giggle, and it begs for the bedroom, for sex and intimacy and Vanessa can’t resist the invitation.
“Bed,” Vanessa mumbles, hot and coarse into Ashley’s ear, and Ashley just nods, hard, clenches her eyes shut and lets herself be pulled into the other room, pushed down onto the bed. Vanessa stares for second, eyes wide and dark, before she just grins, straddles her hips, and Ashley smirks up at her, fingers the hem of her singlet, watches Vanessa’s eyes flick.
She lets go though, leaves it there until Vanessa works her hands up underneath it, pulls it up and off in one fluid movement and Ashley just grins, arches beneath Vanessa’s fingers as they skirt along her ribcage.
“Good at that,” Ashley mumbles, as she leans up to slide Vanessa’s bra strap off her shoulder. “Taking off people’s clothes.”
“Practice,” Vanessa says, and she kisses Ashley again, bites at her lower lip and works a hand up to stroke the skin over her collarbone, rubs her thumb over the natural jut and smiles when Ashley shivers. “There may be some natural talent involved as well, y’know?”
“Mhm,” Ashley nods, eyes half-lidded, half-full, half-empty, and she reaches her arms around Vanessa’s back, walks them over the skin until she’s able to undo her bra. Ashley grins, looks appraisingly when the fabric falls away and Vanessa laughs, grinds her hips down against Ashley’s. Her eyelids flutter at that, lashes flaying against her cheekbone like Chinese paper fans, and Vanessa can’t resist, has to lean down and press her lips against one, and Ashley shivers a little again underneath her, gasps when Vanessa works cold fingers into her bra cup.
“You’re beautiful like this,” Vanessa mumbles, and she rolls her eyes a little at herself, rubs her thumb down over a cherry nipple and Ashley hums, gasps, breathes. Vanessa glances down again, watches the way Ashley’s belly draws in, her chest heaves, her legs tilt into each other and says, “Me and Zac, we’re not-” and Ashley reaches up, wraps a hand around the back of Vanessa’s neck and crashes her down on top of her, kisses her hard and fast, mumbles, “The last thing I want to hear about is fucking Zac.”
And Vanessa grins, because she can oblige on that, and she fists a hand in Ashley’s blonde curls, works the other around Ashley’s back to unclip her bra, pull it down her arms and off her chest and she can’t help herself when she leans in, presses her lips just above Ashley’s nipple and grins.
Ashley giggles, rolls her hips up into Vanessa’s and says, “Come on, honey,” and she gasps when Vanessa nips her. “I’ve got,” her eyelids flutter, licks her lips, “I’ve got shit to do later,” and Vanessa laughs, runs her thumb over Ashley’s breast, trails it down her chest and down to her panty line. She looks up at Ashley, grins.
“You plan on taking advantage of me tonight, Miss Tisdale?”
“Well,” Ashley smiles, arches her back because everything about her has always been such a show, a display. A fucking peacock for the cameras, a whore in the bedroom, and Vanessa wants to pluck her feathers, strip her bare, make her come undone. “As long as you’re here.”
Vanessa flutters her lashes dramatically, presses a kiss to Ashley’s chest and slips her fingers down the front of Ashley’s panties, rubs against her clit and smiles when Ashley writhes beneath her, gasps in short, breathy sounds. “Fuck,” she says, and Vanessa leans down to kiss her, hard and deep, slips her tongue between her lips as she slips a finger inside her.
Ashley moans a little, stifles the sound herself until Vanessa pushes in another finger, feels Ashley clench against her. They’ve both been hot for this since the living room, but Vanessa can feel herself getting wet at the way Ashley squirms underneath her, enough to make Vanessa grind her hips down harder.
She gets another finger in when Ashley digs her nails into Vanessa’s back, claws there and Vanessa twists her fingers just right, moves her thumb to rub at her clit and Ashley’s gasps get shorter, louder, and she’s so wet in Vanessa’s hand, warm to the touch and it takes a minute, but Ashley’s cries even out, her lashes flutter down and the blankets fall off the end of the bed, where Ashley had been holding them still with the heels of her feet.
“I could eat you out,” Ashley mumbles, and Vanessa can’t help the way her eyelids flicker, and fuck, Ashley must know she has that affect, does if her face is anything to go by. “You want me, don’t you?” and Vanessa laughs, says, “Fuck, I have you, princess.”
Ashley just slides a hand down Vanessa’s back, reaches to pull her panties down her thighs and she flips them over, so Vanessa’s on her back, Ashley straddling her, leaning down to suck at her neck before worming her way down Vanessa’s legs, spreading them, and leaning up to lick at the inside of her thigh. Vanessa shivers, lets her eyelids flutter shut and Ashley moves up to lick a long line up to Vanessa’s clit, mouth at it and Vanessa writhes a little, fists a chunk of Ashley’s curls.
“Love you like this,” Ashley mumbles, face pressed to the inside of Vanessa’s thigh. The words write themselves in the skin there, like a diary entry, a soliloquy or a monologue and they’re too intimate for right now, for this, and Vanessa reaches down, slips one of her own fingers inside of herself before calling down to Ashley, “You still going?”
And not apparently, she sits back on her heels to watch Vanessa split herself open, spread herself bare in front of her and Vanessa would put on a show if she was half the actress Disney told her she was.
Ashley’s a picture of asymmetrical Hollywood, from her curls to her nose to her frame, and Vanessa loves her breasts, loves that they ruin the picture, are uneven and small. Soft still to the touch and she has freckles on one, they litter the breast like paint flecks, like ink stains, like art. Ashley reaches a hand up, rubs it down her own neck, ghosts fingers over her collarbone before moving down to rub at her breast, thumb over her nipple and it turns Vanessa on more than she’d care to admit.
She comes, hot and heavy, untangled by her own fingers and Ashley’s hungry stare and it takes her a moment, minutes to catch her breath, fold herself in half, bend her legs up to pull off her pumps. Ashley just throws her head back, exposes the long line of her throat as she laughs, before she drops down beside her.
“We’re good at that,” Vanessa says, and Ashley hums, nods a little and reaches down to finish pulling her panties off where they’re still wrapped around her thighs.
“We should-” and Ashley leans over to kiss her, says, “No, we shouldn’t.”
1,835 words of fail. NC-17. PWP. Vanessa Hudgens/Ashley Tisdale.
I'm so ashamed of this, lol.
Ashley doesn’t look all that impressed. That’s probably an understatement.
She’s not really clad in much, a pair of an ex-boyfriends boxers and a loose white singlet, bra bright and blue beneath it and Vanessa smiles a little, watches Ashley cross fake-brown arms over her chest when she catches Vanessa looking.
“Thought you were going to Zac’s tonight,” Ashley says, and it comes out as a statement more than a question, a fuck you, a fuck off, but Vanessa’s never pretended she’s good at being denied. Doesn’t get off on acting like she hasn’t had everything handed to her on a silver platter, slid across stretched pine tables. There were always promises in crystal wineglasses, loyalties that still get thrown around with the dirty napkins. Her relationships won’t ever be any different.
Vanessa shrugs, and she drops her purse on Ashley’s coffee table, dusts off a bit of dirt from the bottom of her jacket. “Guess I changed my mind, huh?”
Ashley’s not easily seduced, and Vanessa figures that’s half her charm. She’s used to people wanting to fuck her, work their way between trembling thighs and Vanessa’s not sure when Ashley’s loose easy smile became more of a promise than a threat, a challenge than a competition.
“Guess I did too,” Ashley says, and she turns around, sways her hips as she does it, flicks her hair. “Invitation revoked, honey. You can let yourself out.”
Vanessa just takes off her jacket, drops it straight on the floor, and she’s dressed in some strappy, fitted thing, that pulls in tight at the waist, hugs her breasts, hips, and when she unzips it at the back, it falls off like she’s shedding skin, losing the night in the folds of the dress.
The way Ashley turns back, rolls her eyes, isn’t unexpected. The grin is. “You’re too old for your fans,” she says, and she puts a hand on her hip. “What teen star looks like that,” and she nods her head at Vanessa’s lacy bra, her tiny panties and five-inch pumps, and says. “You ever think about porn?”
“Sure,” Vanessa says, and she wanders over until she has Ashley up against the wall, mumbles down into her ear, “but for now I’m happy giving pre-teens their first wet nights.”
Ashley smiles and maybe there isn’t anything kind about it, leans over and wraps her arms around Vanessa’s neck and says, “At least you’re keeping your options open,” and her smile just widens when she feels Vanessa’s fingers tug at the hem of her singlet.
“I have a theory,” Vanessa hums, and she pulls Ashley’s singlet up a little further, enough to expose a bronzed belly, coppering beneath spray tan, and she splays her fingers there, works her thumb over Ashley’s sharp hip. “You’re a little in love with me.”
Ashley snorts dramatically, quirks an eyebrow and says, “I think those pretty shoes have made you a little in love with you,” and Vanessa grins, hikes Ashley’s singlet up enough that she can press the tips of her fingers against Ashley’s breasts, watch the flush bleed across her chest.
Vanessa doesn’t bother with the retort, crashes her mouth down onto Ashley’s instead, presses down with glossed lips and Ashley’s response is immediate, entangling a hand in Vanessa’s hair and parting her lips enough for Vanessa to work her tongue in. Ashley pulls away, moves enough to latch herself onto Vanessa’s neck, suck and bite down against the tendon until Vanessa has to catch herself, hold a hand up beside Ashley’s head, bed it in the wall.
“Come on, Vanessa,” Ashley mumbles, and there’s something predatory underneath it, taunting, “You can do better than this,” and Vanessa growls a little, hard into her throat, and shoves Ashley back, gets her fingers into the waistband of Ashley’s boxers and pulls them down. She grabs at Ashley’s legs until the plaid fabric pools at her ankles, and Ashley laughs a little, deeper than her usual giggle, and it begs for the bedroom, for sex and intimacy and Vanessa can’t resist the invitation.
“Bed,” Vanessa mumbles, hot and coarse into Ashley’s ear, and Ashley just nods, hard, clenches her eyes shut and lets herself be pulled into the other room, pushed down onto the bed. Vanessa stares for second, eyes wide and dark, before she just grins, straddles her hips, and Ashley smirks up at her, fingers the hem of her singlet, watches Vanessa’s eyes flick.
She lets go though, leaves it there until Vanessa works her hands up underneath it, pulls it up and off in one fluid movement and Ashley just grins, arches beneath Vanessa’s fingers as they skirt along her ribcage.
“Good at that,” Ashley mumbles, as she leans up to slide Vanessa’s bra strap off her shoulder. “Taking off people’s clothes.”
“Practice,” Vanessa says, and she kisses Ashley again, bites at her lower lip and works a hand up to stroke the skin over her collarbone, rubs her thumb over the natural jut and smiles when Ashley shivers. “There may be some natural talent involved as well, y’know?”
“Mhm,” Ashley nods, eyes half-lidded, half-full, half-empty, and she reaches her arms around Vanessa’s back, walks them over the skin until she’s able to undo her bra. Ashley grins, looks appraisingly when the fabric falls away and Vanessa laughs, grinds her hips down against Ashley’s. Her eyelids flutter at that, lashes flaying against her cheekbone like Chinese paper fans, and Vanessa can’t resist, has to lean down and press her lips against one, and Ashley shivers a little again underneath her, gasps when Vanessa works cold fingers into her bra cup.
“You’re beautiful like this,” Vanessa mumbles, and she rolls her eyes a little at herself, rubs her thumb down over a cherry nipple and Ashley hums, gasps, breathes. Vanessa glances down again, watches the way Ashley’s belly draws in, her chest heaves, her legs tilt into each other and says, “Me and Zac, we’re not-” and Ashley reaches up, wraps a hand around the back of Vanessa’s neck and crashes her down on top of her, kisses her hard and fast, mumbles, “The last thing I want to hear about is fucking Zac.”
And Vanessa grins, because she can oblige on that, and she fists a hand in Ashley’s blonde curls, works the other around Ashley’s back to unclip her bra, pull it down her arms and off her chest and she can’t help herself when she leans in, presses her lips just above Ashley’s nipple and grins.
Ashley giggles, rolls her hips up into Vanessa’s and says, “Come on, honey,” and she gasps when Vanessa nips her. “I’ve got,” her eyelids flutter, licks her lips, “I’ve got shit to do later,” and Vanessa laughs, runs her thumb over Ashley’s breast, trails it down her chest and down to her panty line. She looks up at Ashley, grins.
“You plan on taking advantage of me tonight, Miss Tisdale?”
“Well,” Ashley smiles, arches her back because everything about her has always been such a show, a display. A fucking peacock for the cameras, a whore in the bedroom, and Vanessa wants to pluck her feathers, strip her bare, make her come undone. “As long as you’re here.”
Vanessa flutters her lashes dramatically, presses a kiss to Ashley’s chest and slips her fingers down the front of Ashley’s panties, rubs against her clit and smiles when Ashley writhes beneath her, gasps in short, breathy sounds. “Fuck,” she says, and Vanessa leans down to kiss her, hard and deep, slips her tongue between her lips as she slips a finger inside her.
Ashley moans a little, stifles the sound herself until Vanessa pushes in another finger, feels Ashley clench against her. They’ve both been hot for this since the living room, but Vanessa can feel herself getting wet at the way Ashley squirms underneath her, enough to make Vanessa grind her hips down harder.
She gets another finger in when Ashley digs her nails into Vanessa’s back, claws there and Vanessa twists her fingers just right, moves her thumb to rub at her clit and Ashley’s gasps get shorter, louder, and she’s so wet in Vanessa’s hand, warm to the touch and it takes a minute, but Ashley’s cries even out, her lashes flutter down and the blankets fall off the end of the bed, where Ashley had been holding them still with the heels of her feet.
“I could eat you out,” Ashley mumbles, and Vanessa can’t help the way her eyelids flicker, and fuck, Ashley must know she has that affect, does if her face is anything to go by. “You want me, don’t you?” and Vanessa laughs, says, “Fuck, I have you, princess.”
Ashley just slides a hand down Vanessa’s back, reaches to pull her panties down her thighs and she flips them over, so Vanessa’s on her back, Ashley straddling her, leaning down to suck at her neck before worming her way down Vanessa’s legs, spreading them, and leaning up to lick at the inside of her thigh. Vanessa shivers, lets her eyelids flutter shut and Ashley moves up to lick a long line up to Vanessa’s clit, mouth at it and Vanessa writhes a little, fists a chunk of Ashley’s curls.
“Love you like this,” Ashley mumbles, face pressed to the inside of Vanessa’s thigh. The words write themselves in the skin there, like a diary entry, a soliloquy or a monologue and they’re too intimate for right now, for this, and Vanessa reaches down, slips one of her own fingers inside of herself before calling down to Ashley, “You still going?”
And not apparently, she sits back on her heels to watch Vanessa split herself open, spread herself bare in front of her and Vanessa would put on a show if she was half the actress Disney told her she was.
Ashley’s a picture of asymmetrical Hollywood, from her curls to her nose to her frame, and Vanessa loves her breasts, loves that they ruin the picture, are uneven and small. Soft still to the touch and she has freckles on one, they litter the breast like paint flecks, like ink stains, like art. Ashley reaches a hand up, rubs it down her own neck, ghosts fingers over her collarbone before moving down to rub at her breast, thumb over her nipple and it turns Vanessa on more than she’d care to admit.
She comes, hot and heavy, untangled by her own fingers and Ashley’s hungry stare and it takes her a moment, minutes to catch her breath, fold herself in half, bend her legs up to pull off her pumps. Ashley just throws her head back, exposes the long line of her throat as she laughs, before she drops down beside her.
“We’re good at that,” Vanessa says, and Ashley hums, nods a little and reaches down to finish pulling her panties off where they’re still wrapped around her thighs.
“We should-” and Ashley leans over to kiss her, says, “No, we shouldn’t.”