[fanfiction] never should have asked for black leather
365 Gay Sharks
Day 235, Word Count: 505
Theme: August; The Dog Days are Over (Apocalypse)
This post is part of the 365 Gay Sharks project. If you would like to learn more about this project, click here to read more about it. :D
Fandom/Pairings: The Runaways; Joan/Cherie
Rating: R
Pre-Notes: For the breathplay square on this
kink_bingo, card. Corset problem? Me? Pfffffft, no.
Summary: Then again, maybe it's just Joan who has the corset problem and Cherie just likes the way it constricts what she's doing.
never should have asked for black leather
Cherie's got a thing for corsets, Joan guesses, 'cause she keeps getting them and wearing them on stage. Joan thinks that maybe it's 'cause Cherie's noticed how Joan can't quite take her eyes of Cherie when she's got the corsets on, can't quite help but notice how Cherie's breaths are shorter and sometimes out like little gasps of air when she's all done up in the corset. Then again, maybe it's just Joan who has the corset problem and Cherie just likes the way it constricts what she's doing.
Maybe, Joan thinks, that's why Cherie asks Joan to lace up her newest corset. It's a black leather deal with leather cord to lace it up, and when Cherie sets the cord into Joan's hands, she doesn't know what to do with it. Joan stares at it blankly and Cherie laughs, a little muted with the drugs clouding her, before she starts explaining how to lace it up, tells Joan how to cross over the string and what pattern to thread it in. Like that, Joan starts lacing Cherie into the corset.
The orders are punctuated by little intakes of air, like Cherie's forgotten how to breathe correctly, and they're breathy and quite. Joan tries very hard not to fuck up what she's doing, tries not to let her fingers linger on Cherie's skin longer than they need to, but she can't help herself. She can't help herself and Cherie's not complaining so when Joan's done lacing Cherie up, she presses Cherie back onto the bed and settles between Cherie's legs. Cherie's fingers plant themselves in Joan's hair, like they always do, and there are many things that Joan dislikes but that's not one of them. She lets Cherie guide her, taking in all the tiny noises that Cherie makes. They're higher, quieter than normal and her breathing rings loud in Joan's ears.
Every last thing about Cherie like this is something that Joan wants to burn into her memory. Well, Joan wants to burn every last detail of Cherie into her mind, because she's not sure how long Cherie will be there for her to memorize. There's a fragility to what's between them, maybe because of the drugs or maybe because of their respective personalities, but when they're fucking, Joan wants to keep Cherie forever.
She wants to keep Cherie done up in corsets, short of breath and girly as all fuck, because it reminds Joan of the Cherie that she seess, sometimes. The one that was in the bar, the one that existed before any of what they are now. Sometimes, when she's a little off-center, Joan misses that Cherie absently, like a thing she's never had but somehow wants. Then she's pulled back to reality where's she got this Cherie, the one that's pulling her up for a kiss and moaning into it like a fucking alley whore, and Joan doesn't really give two fucks what Cherie she's got anymore so long at her tongue is clever and she's dressed in a corset.
This entry originally posted here. Original entry currently has
comments. :D
Day 235, Word Count: 505
Theme: August; The Dog Days are Over (Apocalypse)
This post is part of the 365 Gay Sharks project. If you would like to learn more about this project, click here to read more about it. :D
Fandom/Pairings: The Runaways; Joan/Cherie
Rating: R
Pre-Notes: For the breathplay square on this
kink_bingo, card. Corset problem? Me? Pfffffft, no.
Summary: Then again, maybe it's just Joan who has the corset problem and Cherie just likes the way it constricts what she's doing.
never should have asked for black leather
Cherie's got a thing for corsets, Joan guesses, 'cause she keeps getting them and wearing them on stage. Joan thinks that maybe it's 'cause Cherie's noticed how Joan can't quite take her eyes of Cherie when she's got the corsets on, can't quite help but notice how Cherie's breaths are shorter and sometimes out like little gasps of air when she's all done up in the corset. Then again, maybe it's just Joan who has the corset problem and Cherie just likes the way it constricts what she's doing.
Maybe, Joan thinks, that's why Cherie asks Joan to lace up her newest corset. It's a black leather deal with leather cord to lace it up, and when Cherie sets the cord into Joan's hands, she doesn't know what to do with it. Joan stares at it blankly and Cherie laughs, a little muted with the drugs clouding her, before she starts explaining how to lace it up, tells Joan how to cross over the string and what pattern to thread it in. Like that, Joan starts lacing Cherie into the corset.
The orders are punctuated by little intakes of air, like Cherie's forgotten how to breathe correctly, and they're breathy and quite. Joan tries very hard not to fuck up what she's doing, tries not to let her fingers linger on Cherie's skin longer than they need to, but she can't help herself. She can't help herself and Cherie's not complaining so when Joan's done lacing Cherie up, she presses Cherie back onto the bed and settles between Cherie's legs. Cherie's fingers plant themselves in Joan's hair, like they always do, and there are many things that Joan dislikes but that's not one of them. She lets Cherie guide her, taking in all the tiny noises that Cherie makes. They're higher, quieter than normal and her breathing rings loud in Joan's ears.
Every last thing about Cherie like this is something that Joan wants to burn into her memory. Well, Joan wants to burn every last detail of Cherie into her mind, because she's not sure how long Cherie will be there for her to memorize. There's a fragility to what's between them, maybe because of the drugs or maybe because of their respective personalities, but when they're fucking, Joan wants to keep Cherie forever.
She wants to keep Cherie done up in corsets, short of breath and girly as all fuck, because it reminds Joan of the Cherie that she seess, sometimes. The one that was in the bar, the one that existed before any of what they are now. Sometimes, when she's a little off-center, Joan misses that Cherie absently, like a thing she's never had but somehow wants. Then she's pulled back to reality where's she got this Cherie, the one that's pulling her up for a kiss and moaning into it like a fucking alley whore, and Joan doesn't really give two fucks what Cherie she's got anymore so long at her tongue is clever and she's dressed in a corset.
This entry originally posted here. Original entry currently has
comments. :D