Fic: Half-way Lovers (1)
Title: Half-way Lovers.
Word Count: 2306
Rating: M for lots of sexytimes in this, and future chapters.
Pairing: Emily/Naomi, Emily/Effy.
Disclaimer: I own fuck all.
A/N: Hello new multi-chap fiction.
Half-way Lovers.
She hasn't always been like this in the mornings, but perhaps it's just the transition. Stark, really. She would wake up with Naomi Campbell feeling sleepy, but content. Ready, more than anything. These days she wakes up sweaty, disoriented, and hardly rested. It takes some getting used to.
Her heart almost always begins to pound irrationally fast when she wakes, until she feels a hand blindly grope for her own. She calms.
"Emily?" That voice is how Emily imagines smoke; it's gentle, whispy, but rough, and uncomfortable. It makes her heart fucking jump or something. She doesn't want to think too much about what it means.
"Yeah," She can assure, but for good measure, or maybe her own satisfaction, she laces her fingers with the sleeping girl's.
She can't remember how it started, only that it did, and that Emily, if she's honest, never tried as hard as she would like, to stop this.
She thinks back to when it maybe started;
Probably after the loveball. She was so full of hope, so naive in thinking that Naomi Campbell could be ready to, I don't know, commit, or fucking something. She doesn't know. She never knew. Maybe if she knew the problem, she could have solved it.
The two of them, Naomi and Emily, had disappeared hand-in-hand. It was romantic. Emily felt like she was walking on air. They collapsed onto Naomi's bed, desperate and ready.They made eachother sweat, butchered the only three words Emily would ever need to hear from Naomi, (she never guessed it wouldn't be enough,) and finally, fell asleep entwined. Silly Emily for thinking that meant something. Could it ever with Naomi Campbell?
It wasn't just Naomi who didn't change. It was all of them. It was Katie. Emily felt so crucial at that stupid fucking dance. She felt so new, so ready to just be, and to finally let go of all the things holding her back. She just wanted to let go. But life isn't like that, is it? People don't really change.
When she thinks back to that night, she thinks Katie was probably just shocked. Far too stunned upon hearing Emily's words to come back with her usual, quick, bitchy comments. Emily must have stupidly felt it a victory, or at least a fucking turning point.
Katie recovered, and Emily was happy for her. But Katie turned whatever might have done some fucking good, into anger fuelling the fire of whatever she was planning for Effy -- and Emily knew she was planning something. Sometimes Katie's determination would worry Emily, for Effy's sake, more than anyone else's.
No one saw Effy for weeks after the dance, but Emily did. It left Katie with few people to take her anger out upon. It landed mostly in the same three directions it always had. Freddie, Emily, and occasionally, Katie herself.
Emily considered that maybe this -- conquering the college and along with it, her old popularity -- may be Katie's way of coping, or more likely, proving that Effy did not beat her. Who was Emily to take that away from her?
Nothing changes. Not really. She's still the overshadowed twin, and Katie's still the popular one. Naomi's still a hormonal cunt who can't control her mood swings, or decide just what the fuck it is that she actually wants.
- - - -
The morning Emily wakes up in Naomi's bed, the morning after the loveball, is the day it must have started. It was bright, absolutely gorgeous out. Emily stretched out, and a small smile made it's way onto her lips almost instantly. Content, is the first word that came to mind. Her toes curled into the sheets, and she turned to put an arm around Naomi's waist. Around her girlfriend's waist. God, she felt good thinking that.
The bed was empty. When Emily couldn't find Naomi with tired, bleary groping, she forced herself to open her eyes. Emily spotted her quickly. She stood at the foot of the bed in her underwear, clasping a t-shirt. She looked like a deer caught in headlights. Guilty, was the next word that came to mind.
Emily said nothing. What could she fucking say this time, anyway? She wasn't sure whether she wanted to shout or cry. She felt like both. But Christ, she didn't want to play games anymore, she didn't want to give Naomi anything anymore.
It dawned on her that, if ever they were together, they were not anymore.
"Ems, wait..." Naomi tried, her voice told Emily that she knew her argument was invalid, and she knew Emily was leaving.
Emily got dressed in silence. Naomi did not try to speak either, not until Emily's fingertips came into contact with the doorknob.
"Emily, please," She begged, grabbing at Emily's wrist. The force of which Emily pulled away with shocked both girls. Both were near crying.
"Emily, I love you," She sobbed, tears now falling freely. It was more than Emily could take, and it was more than she cared to. She left wordlessly, without a glance back.
It wasn't until halfway down the road, that Naomi came running out.
"Emily, please!" She cried, now dressed somewhat more appropriate. Emily spun around, feeling her anger take over; needing to finish this.
"NO, Naomi. I've had enough of this, I've had enough of you! I've had enough of always fucking trying, just fuck off."
"Emily, what are you saying?" She cried.
"I'm saying that if ever you bothered to fucking be with me, you needn't bother any longer." Emily's words stung, tasted bitter even as they left her tongue.
"You're breaking up with me?" It wasn't even a question really, but it was enough for Emily to answer.
"Yes, Naomi! Did you really expect me to put up with this every other fucking day? How dare you!"
And that was the end.
She went home. Katie was out. She finally cried.
Hours later, she got dressed in her shortest dress, put on her favourite pair of heels, and fucked off to some club Cook had invited her to.
By the time she actually got to the club, Cook was already wasted, and snogging some girl in the corner. The majority of the club was disgusting, but she didn't stay in one place for long. The party buzzed with the energy of dancing, hormonal teenagers, all ready to fuck in a moment's notice.
She spied a lanky boy, dancing energetically. He held an almost-full bottle of vodka in is hand. Good target, she thought, and danced her way over to him.
She had studied Katie many times before. She thought of Katie as she ground her hips into his, and brought her lips a breath away from his ear. She was more than slightly repulsed by her own actions.
"Give us a drink," She said, her husky voice unravelling the poor boy. She noticed him swallow hard, before shoving the bottle into her hand.
She swigged deeply, letting it burn. It felt like fire as it slid down her throat and settled in her stomach.
"Thanks," She winked, dancing away again, bottle in hand.
That began her night of getting totally fucked up, as far off her tits as she could possibly get. She danced wildly, had sweat clinging to every inch of her skin. She felt bodies grinding into her, and it made her feel sick, but she tried to push the thoughts away.
If she could still think, she wasn't drunk enough.
On his way out, Cook slipped her a few pills with a wink. She took them without hesitation, and felt the effects almost immediately. Brilliant.
Fucking brilliant, it was, to feel everything. To feel music make it's way past her, to feel colours direct her eyes to the prettiest of things.
Her eyes fell on Effy's. Emily was always so jealous of Effy's eyes. Absolutely gorgeous, electrifying blue oceans staring back at her, shiny with concern.
"What the fuck have you taken?" Echoed past her ears, and she threw her head back, laughter spilling from her gut forcefully. It felt like vomiting.
The next she knew, she had fallen to the floor, her hands in fists, her knees bruising against the cold, hard flooring, and tears streamed down her cheeks. She sobbed loudly, as she felt an arm circle her waist. A comforting voice made it's way to her ears and calmed her sobbing mildly.
"Emily, relax. Realx."
She was ushered out of the club by hands belonging to a faceless person, and a voice with no lips. They sat her down, against a wall in the alleyway. It smelled awful.
"Emily, it's Effy. Can you hear me?" Effy. It's Effy, thank fuck, it's Effy. "Answer me, Emily. Can you hear me?" Effy held her hand, rubbing it with her thumb roughly. Emily tried to nod, but found it difficult to move without throwing up. "Shh, shh. It's okay. You don't have to move, okay? Can you talk?"
"Eff..." Emily choked.
"Good, you're doing good. Where's Naomi?" Effy asked gently, brushing a sweaty strand of hair from her face.
"We broke up," Emily remembered, gasping for air as she began crying again.
"Okay, okay. Shhh. I'll take you back to mine, yeah?" Effy soothed quickly. She didn't bother to listen for an answer after that, just put Emily's arm around her shoulders, and hauled her up.
"Can you walk?" Barely, but they still stumbled towards the bus stop anyway. They managed to get back to Effy's place in about 20 minutes, falling into her bed the moment the reached her bedroom.
Neither girl bothered to get out of their clothes. It was late, about 4:30AM, and Emily seriously could not be fucked.
That was the first time they slept together. First time they had spoken more than a few words, too.
--
The morning came like every other, only with a surprising lack of hangovers. Effy laughed when Emily wondered aloud, why they had no hangovers. She supposed Effy was immune to it after being fucked up for about 23.5 hours of each day.
"Thanks," Emily said, watching Effy with intensity. Effy simply watched back, studied. Emily saw the blue pools move slowly across her face, as if carefully memorising each of Emily's features. She wondered if she was. She wondered why Naomi never did.
She doesn't even know how it happened. Somewhere between watching, and wondering, Effy had pounced on her. Pushed Emily down on the bed firmly, crushing their lips together.
Emily never tried to stop it. It didn't even cross her mind to try.
She was lost in attention that Naomi never gave her, lost with Effy's hands wandering up her ribs. Effy's palms were rougher than Naomi's, and much firmer. They felt sure, in their touches.
Emily didn't want to cry with Effy's touches; Effy doesn't hesitate like Naomi does. Everything about her and Naomi's relationship was hesitation. This feels like assurance.
She lets Effy jerk the zipper down on her dress. She lets Effy kiss down her collarbone, bite down on it hard. She lets herself cry out as Effy draws blood. She allows herself anything Effy will give.
And Effy is such a giver.
Effy continues her descent down Emily's body, now with the smallest hint of blood tinting her lips. Her fingers trace the edge of Emily's bra, before pulling it down roughly. Effy palms her breasts hard, massages them for what feels like a fucking eternity, before she lowers her lips to sooth the hardened nipple.
Emily cries out at the contact, arches into Effy's touch, and for once, isn't afraid to.
It isn't phenomenal with Effy. Nothing exceedingly spectacular. But there's a blinding contrast between her and Naomi, even as Effy presses two fingers against her wet center, feeling how desperate she is through the pathetic fabric of her underwear, just like Naomi used to do.
Effy doesn't take Emily's knickers off. She just slips her fingers past them, slides into her with ease, curling her fingers deeply inside. She has no intention of letting her come soon. She likes it better to circle Emily's clit with just the tip of her finger, smiling as Emily strained for more contact, straining for release. But to give her that, just would not be Effy's style.
It isn't until she lowers her lips again, takes one of Emily's nipples between her lips, swirling her hot tongue around it, that Emily cries out in demand.
"Effy, just fucking take me, already!"
Effy slowly lifts her lazy gaze to meet Emily's desperate chocolate pools. Effy is a woman of little words, and Emily expects little from her.
But she expected words far before she expected Effy to take her ankle and hook it over her shoulder, thrusting two fingers deep into her. It was a faster motion than her brain could process, not until she actually felt the slim fingers curl inside her, and she cried out loudly.
Effy thrust into her over and over again, grinding her palm against Emily's clit, until the final moment, when Emily was about to spill over into a fucking Earth-shattering orgasm, that Effy lowered her lips. She took Emily's swollen clit between them, sucking gently, letting her tongue lap at her softly.
The sensations forced Emily's hips upwards. Her lips parted as she inhaled sharply, unable to voice the obscenities she wanted to.
"My God, Effy!" She cried, finally.
She takes back her thoughts on Effy's fucking. It is bloody amazing. She wants to stamp A* on this whole fucking bed.
But it isn't about that. The regret kicks in the second Effy's lips meet her own again. She can't bring herself to close her eyes, even as she tastes herself on Effy's lips, and feels the fire in her belly return. This was a mistake.
Part 2.
Word Count: 2306
Rating: M for lots of sexytimes in this, and future chapters.
Pairing: Emily/Naomi, Emily/Effy.
Disclaimer: I own fuck all.
A/N: Hello new multi-chap fiction.
Half-way Lovers.
She hasn't always been like this in the mornings, but perhaps it's just the transition. Stark, really. She would wake up with Naomi Campbell feeling sleepy, but content. Ready, more than anything. These days she wakes up sweaty, disoriented, and hardly rested. It takes some getting used to.
Her heart almost always begins to pound irrationally fast when she wakes, until she feels a hand blindly grope for her own. She calms.
"Emily?" That voice is how Emily imagines smoke; it's gentle, whispy, but rough, and uncomfortable. It makes her heart fucking jump or something. She doesn't want to think too much about what it means.
"Yeah," She can assure, but for good measure, or maybe her own satisfaction, she laces her fingers with the sleeping girl's.
She can't remember how it started, only that it did, and that Emily, if she's honest, never tried as hard as she would like, to stop this.
She thinks back to when it maybe started;
Probably after the loveball. She was so full of hope, so naive in thinking that Naomi Campbell could be ready to, I don't know, commit, or fucking something. She doesn't know. She never knew. Maybe if she knew the problem, she could have solved it.
The two of them, Naomi and Emily, had disappeared hand-in-hand. It was romantic. Emily felt like she was walking on air. They collapsed onto Naomi's bed, desperate and ready.They made eachother sweat, butchered the only three words Emily would ever need to hear from Naomi, (she never guessed it wouldn't be enough,) and finally, fell asleep entwined. Silly Emily for thinking that meant something. Could it ever with Naomi Campbell?
It wasn't just Naomi who didn't change. It was all of them. It was Katie. Emily felt so crucial at that stupid fucking dance. She felt so new, so ready to just be, and to finally let go of all the things holding her back. She just wanted to let go. But life isn't like that, is it? People don't really change.
When she thinks back to that night, she thinks Katie was probably just shocked. Far too stunned upon hearing Emily's words to come back with her usual, quick, bitchy comments. Emily must have stupidly felt it a victory, or at least a fucking turning point.
Katie recovered, and Emily was happy for her. But Katie turned whatever might have done some fucking good, into anger fuelling the fire of whatever she was planning for Effy -- and Emily knew she was planning something. Sometimes Katie's determination would worry Emily, for Effy's sake, more than anyone else's.
No one saw Effy for weeks after the dance, but Emily did. It left Katie with few people to take her anger out upon. It landed mostly in the same three directions it always had. Freddie, Emily, and occasionally, Katie herself.
Emily considered that maybe this -- conquering the college and along with it, her old popularity -- may be Katie's way of coping, or more likely, proving that Effy did not beat her. Who was Emily to take that away from her?
Nothing changes. Not really. She's still the overshadowed twin, and Katie's still the popular one. Naomi's still a hormonal cunt who can't control her mood swings, or decide just what the fuck it is that she actually wants.
- - - -
The morning Emily wakes up in Naomi's bed, the morning after the loveball, is the day it must have started. It was bright, absolutely gorgeous out. Emily stretched out, and a small smile made it's way onto her lips almost instantly. Content, is the first word that came to mind. Her toes curled into the sheets, and she turned to put an arm around Naomi's waist. Around her girlfriend's waist. God, she felt good thinking that.
The bed was empty. When Emily couldn't find Naomi with tired, bleary groping, she forced herself to open her eyes. Emily spotted her quickly. She stood at the foot of the bed in her underwear, clasping a t-shirt. She looked like a deer caught in headlights. Guilty, was the next word that came to mind.
Emily said nothing. What could she fucking say this time, anyway? She wasn't sure whether she wanted to shout or cry. She felt like both. But Christ, she didn't want to play games anymore, she didn't want to give Naomi anything anymore.
It dawned on her that, if ever they were together, they were not anymore.
"Ems, wait..." Naomi tried, her voice told Emily that she knew her argument was invalid, and she knew Emily was leaving.
Emily got dressed in silence. Naomi did not try to speak either, not until Emily's fingertips came into contact with the doorknob.
"Emily, please," She begged, grabbing at Emily's wrist. The force of which Emily pulled away with shocked both girls. Both were near crying.
"Emily, I love you," She sobbed, tears now falling freely. It was more than Emily could take, and it was more than she cared to. She left wordlessly, without a glance back.
It wasn't until halfway down the road, that Naomi came running out.
"Emily, please!" She cried, now dressed somewhat more appropriate. Emily spun around, feeling her anger take over; needing to finish this.
"NO, Naomi. I've had enough of this, I've had enough of you! I've had enough of always fucking trying, just fuck off."
"Emily, what are you saying?" She cried.
"I'm saying that if ever you bothered to fucking be with me, you needn't bother any longer." Emily's words stung, tasted bitter even as they left her tongue.
"You're breaking up with me?" It wasn't even a question really, but it was enough for Emily to answer.
"Yes, Naomi! Did you really expect me to put up with this every other fucking day? How dare you!"
And that was the end.
She went home. Katie was out. She finally cried.
Hours later, she got dressed in her shortest dress, put on her favourite pair of heels, and fucked off to some club Cook had invited her to.
By the time she actually got to the club, Cook was already wasted, and snogging some girl in the corner. The majority of the club was disgusting, but she didn't stay in one place for long. The party buzzed with the energy of dancing, hormonal teenagers, all ready to fuck in a moment's notice.
She spied a lanky boy, dancing energetically. He held an almost-full bottle of vodka in is hand. Good target, she thought, and danced her way over to him.
She had studied Katie many times before. She thought of Katie as she ground her hips into his, and brought her lips a breath away from his ear. She was more than slightly repulsed by her own actions.
"Give us a drink," She said, her husky voice unravelling the poor boy. She noticed him swallow hard, before shoving the bottle into her hand.
She swigged deeply, letting it burn. It felt like fire as it slid down her throat and settled in her stomach.
"Thanks," She winked, dancing away again, bottle in hand.
That began her night of getting totally fucked up, as far off her tits as she could possibly get. She danced wildly, had sweat clinging to every inch of her skin. She felt bodies grinding into her, and it made her feel sick, but she tried to push the thoughts away.
If she could still think, she wasn't drunk enough.
On his way out, Cook slipped her a few pills with a wink. She took them without hesitation, and felt the effects almost immediately. Brilliant.
Fucking brilliant, it was, to feel everything. To feel music make it's way past her, to feel colours direct her eyes to the prettiest of things.
Her eyes fell on Effy's. Emily was always so jealous of Effy's eyes. Absolutely gorgeous, electrifying blue oceans staring back at her, shiny with concern.
"What the fuck have you taken?" Echoed past her ears, and she threw her head back, laughter spilling from her gut forcefully. It felt like vomiting.
The next she knew, she had fallen to the floor, her hands in fists, her knees bruising against the cold, hard flooring, and tears streamed down her cheeks. She sobbed loudly, as she felt an arm circle her waist. A comforting voice made it's way to her ears and calmed her sobbing mildly.
"Emily, relax. Realx."
She was ushered out of the club by hands belonging to a faceless person, and a voice with no lips. They sat her down, against a wall in the alleyway. It smelled awful.
"Emily, it's Effy. Can you hear me?" Effy. It's Effy, thank fuck, it's Effy. "Answer me, Emily. Can you hear me?" Effy held her hand, rubbing it with her thumb roughly. Emily tried to nod, but found it difficult to move without throwing up. "Shh, shh. It's okay. You don't have to move, okay? Can you talk?"
"Eff..." Emily choked.
"Good, you're doing good. Where's Naomi?" Effy asked gently, brushing a sweaty strand of hair from her face.
"We broke up," Emily remembered, gasping for air as she began crying again.
"Okay, okay. Shhh. I'll take you back to mine, yeah?" Effy soothed quickly. She didn't bother to listen for an answer after that, just put Emily's arm around her shoulders, and hauled her up.
"Can you walk?" Barely, but they still stumbled towards the bus stop anyway. They managed to get back to Effy's place in about 20 minutes, falling into her bed the moment the reached her bedroom.
Neither girl bothered to get out of their clothes. It was late, about 4:30AM, and Emily seriously could not be fucked.
That was the first time they slept together. First time they had spoken more than a few words, too.
--
The morning came like every other, only with a surprising lack of hangovers. Effy laughed when Emily wondered aloud, why they had no hangovers. She supposed Effy was immune to it after being fucked up for about 23.5 hours of each day.
"Thanks," Emily said, watching Effy with intensity. Effy simply watched back, studied. Emily saw the blue pools move slowly across her face, as if carefully memorising each of Emily's features. She wondered if she was. She wondered why Naomi never did.
She doesn't even know how it happened. Somewhere between watching, and wondering, Effy had pounced on her. Pushed Emily down on the bed firmly, crushing their lips together.
Emily never tried to stop it. It didn't even cross her mind to try.
She was lost in attention that Naomi never gave her, lost with Effy's hands wandering up her ribs. Effy's palms were rougher than Naomi's, and much firmer. They felt sure, in their touches.
Emily didn't want to cry with Effy's touches; Effy doesn't hesitate like Naomi does. Everything about her and Naomi's relationship was hesitation. This feels like assurance.
She lets Effy jerk the zipper down on her dress. She lets Effy kiss down her collarbone, bite down on it hard. She lets herself cry out as Effy draws blood. She allows herself anything Effy will give.
And Effy is such a giver.
Effy continues her descent down Emily's body, now with the smallest hint of blood tinting her lips. Her fingers trace the edge of Emily's bra, before pulling it down roughly. Effy palms her breasts hard, massages them for what feels like a fucking eternity, before she lowers her lips to sooth the hardened nipple.
Emily cries out at the contact, arches into Effy's touch, and for once, isn't afraid to.
It isn't phenomenal with Effy. Nothing exceedingly spectacular. But there's a blinding contrast between her and Naomi, even as Effy presses two fingers against her wet center, feeling how desperate she is through the pathetic fabric of her underwear, just like Naomi used to do.
Effy doesn't take Emily's knickers off. She just slips her fingers past them, slides into her with ease, curling her fingers deeply inside. She has no intention of letting her come soon. She likes it better to circle Emily's clit with just the tip of her finger, smiling as Emily strained for more contact, straining for release. But to give her that, just would not be Effy's style.
It isn't until she lowers her lips again, takes one of Emily's nipples between her lips, swirling her hot tongue around it, that Emily cries out in demand.
"Effy, just fucking take me, already!"
Effy slowly lifts her lazy gaze to meet Emily's desperate chocolate pools. Effy is a woman of little words, and Emily expects little from her.
But she expected words far before she expected Effy to take her ankle and hook it over her shoulder, thrusting two fingers deep into her. It was a faster motion than her brain could process, not until she actually felt the slim fingers curl inside her, and she cried out loudly.
Effy thrust into her over and over again, grinding her palm against Emily's clit, until the final moment, when Emily was about to spill over into a fucking Earth-shattering orgasm, that Effy lowered her lips. She took Emily's swollen clit between them, sucking gently, letting her tongue lap at her softly.
The sensations forced Emily's hips upwards. Her lips parted as she inhaled sharply, unable to voice the obscenities she wanted to.
"My God, Effy!" She cried, finally.
She takes back her thoughts on Effy's fucking. It is bloody amazing. She wants to stamp A* on this whole fucking bed.
But it isn't about that. The regret kicks in the second Effy's lips meet her own again. She can't bring herself to close her eyes, even as she tastes herself on Effy's lips, and feels the fire in her belly return. This was a mistake.
Part 2.