Until the End - 1
anonymous
May 14 2011, 04:46:17 UTC
Damn it, Portal Kink, you made me write this and you're going to read it! It fits this prompt...I think.
One and...Time passes and still his voice buzzes constantly in the back of her processors. She tunes it out at first, metaphorically swats it away with testing, like a hand brushing away a mosquito. But it's still there, faint and staticky with distance, reminding her more and more of how much she hates him
( ... )
Until the End - 7
anonymous
May 27 2011, 06:33:49 UTC
The tide's in and I hope it was worth the wait. :) This marks the third occasion I've ever written anything like this, so apologies if it's missing anything.
CrescendoHe's connecting the dots, tracing his index finger up her arm from one pock mark to the next
( ... )
Until the End - 8
anonymous
May 27 2011, 06:35:02 UTC
She slides her free hand over his thigh, smoothing down the wrinkles in his jumpsuit with a firm pressure.
"You're...doing this on purpose, aren't you?" His voice is a little strained, his hand hot against the bare skin under her shirt.
She tilts her head, grinning, and looks him in the eye from the corner of her own. He shifts, pulling her closer, his hand sliding a little lower. One finger brushes over a taut nipple, then two.
"So you wouldn't mind if I do...this?" he rolls the nipple between his fingers and carefully slides his free hand down her side. "Where else do you have scars?"
His hand slips under the hem of her shirt and she guides it over one hip, his fingers trailing over the track left by stitches. The other hand is tentatively exploring her breasts, cupping and lifting one before carefully drifting to the other or sliding between them. He curls over her, completely engrossed, breathing into her hair.
"These...this...you are amazing..." he murmurs to himself
( ... )
Until the End - 9 (end)
anonymous
May 27 2011, 06:37:40 UTC
Uncertain, he finds himself lying in the grass, seeing a halo of sky and leaves shifting around her beautiful face. He doesn't really know what to do with his hands but when he finds them resting against smooth, bare skin his mouth goes inexplicably dry. An incredulous squeak escapes him, masking the sound of a zipper sliding free
( ... )
Until the End - 10 normandplumeMay 31 2011, 23:05:02 UTC
This is authornon with another bit of story from this setting, just a bit of fluff that I couldn't help writing after seeing Outside Aperture. Again, thank you all so much for reading UTE and leaving so many amazing comments! You can find it and all the other fills I've done at this journal (which I created more or less to store fills for this community :D).
SheShe smells terrible on hot days and her clothes are frayed and filthy. She jumps at certain small noises, throwing her hands up as if she still had a gun to shoot an escape route with. If he comes up behind her without warning she lashes out (but she's always sorry after). Sometimes at night he wakes up to see her wide-eyed and shaking, seeing cold walls instead of the place they are sleeping in. She loves anything that looks like cake or tastes like it but the word itself makes her skin crawl
( ... )
One and...Time passes and still his voice buzzes constantly in the back of her processors. She tunes it out at first, metaphorically swats it away with testing, like a hand brushing away a mosquito. But it's still there, faint and staticky with distance, reminding her more and more of how much she hates him ( ... )
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CrescendoHe's connecting the dots, tracing his index finger up her arm from one pock mark to the next ( ... )
Reply
"You're...doing this on purpose, aren't you?" His voice is a little strained, his hand hot against the bare skin under her shirt.
She tilts her head, grinning, and looks him in the eye from the corner of her own. He shifts, pulling her closer, his hand sliding a little lower. One finger brushes over a taut nipple, then two.
"So you wouldn't mind if I do...this?" he rolls the nipple between his fingers and carefully slides his free hand down her side. "Where else do you have scars?"
His hand slips under the hem of her shirt and she guides it over one hip, his fingers trailing over the track left by stitches. The other hand is tentatively exploring her breasts, cupping and lifting one before carefully drifting to the other or sliding between them. He curls over her, completely engrossed, breathing into her hair.
"These...this...you are amazing..." he murmurs to himself ( ... )
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wow.
No words, anon. No words.
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SheShe smells terrible on hot days and her clothes are frayed and filthy. She jumps at certain small noises, throwing her hands up as if she still had a gun to shoot an escape route with. If he comes up behind her without warning she lashes out (but she's always sorry after). Sometimes at night he wakes up to see her wide-eyed and shaking, seeing cold walls instead of the place they are sleeping in. She loves anything that looks like cake or tastes like it but the word itself makes her skin crawl ( ... )
Reply
without mentioning that it's a videogame fanfic.
It stands alone as a story.
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