(Supergirl) Electric Scream
Title: Electric Scream
Fandom: Supergirl (TVverse)
Pairing: Siobhan/Leslie
Rating: NC-17
Words: 886
Timeline: Season One's Worlds Finest
Notes: Spoilers for Supergirl. Electricity kink. For Ladies Bingo, prompt "smell", and a prompt at the Supergirl Kink Meme.
Summary: Siobhan's suiting up, but Leslie's more interested in undressing her.
The warehouse smells dank and dusty. Nothing like the attractive scents of Siobhan’s apartment, with her expensive sheets and the candles her aunt always gives her on birthdays, or even the smell of coffee and clean air-conditioning at the CatCo offices. But that’s good - this is Siobhan’s life now, not the one she’s always known, so why shouldn’t everything be different, even the air.
There are chemical smells, too, from the white spray she’s run through her hair, sharp and acrid, and the artificial soapy scent of the greasepaint she’s spread across her face. Siobhan frowns in concentration as she studies her reflection in the mirror, making the lines of black at her cheeks sharper until her face looks hollowed out, like she’s caught in a permanent scream.
“Don’t forget these, princess,” Leslie smirks, holding out a small plastic case.
Siobhan takes it, looks at the contents, and rolls her eyes. They’re coloured contact lenses, designed to make eyes look unnaturally pale. “Jesus, look at this cheap shit. Did you rob a Party City or something?”
Leslie just grins at her, her own eyes too dark and wrong, but it’s because of her powers, not anything like the Hot Topic rejects she’s handed to Siobhan. “Maybe I did,” she shrugs. “Don’t think you can pull it off?”
Siobhan snorts, but truthfully the contacts aren’t that bad, not really. She remembers seeing pictures of banshees in storybooks as a child, their faces gaunt and pale as the moon, their eyes a ghostly white. She’s tried to paint that on to her face, tried to capture the nightmares those storybooks inspired in her, but it hasn’t been working.
Because it’s still her own eyes staring back at her from the mirror. But with the contacts, it will be different - it will be the new her, it will be the Banshee.
“Yeah,” Leslie murmurs. “Knew you’d like them.” She takes the mirror from Siobhan’s hand, straddling her lap, and when she kisses Siobhan it’s hard enough to tip her head back, her hands digging into Leslie’s arms just to keep her balance.
Siobhan’s breathing roughly when Leslie releases her with a laugh. “I just did my lips,” she hisses, knowing the greasepaint there will be smudged beyond repair.
“So do them again,” Leslie mocks, and kisses her again, harder than before, nastier. Her hands push into Siobhan’s hair, and it makes the smell of hairspray flare stronger around them. And Leslie herself is a wave of new scents: burning rubber and spice and metal and salty skin. She kisses like she looks, dangerous and thrilling, and Siobhan clings to her, moaning against Leslie’s lips.
“You’re a mess already,” Leslie teases when she pulls back, Siobhan’s black and white greasepaint smeared across her mouth. She goes to her knees, pushing Siobhan’s legs apart and grinning up at her. “Let’s see just how messy you can get.”
She yanks at Siobhan’s costume, and Siobhan lifts her lips, letting it be pulled down over her ass. “I swear, if you electrocute me,” she mutters, and Leslie laughs again and scratches her nails up Siobhan’s inner thighs.
“Relax,” she says playfully. “As long as you don’t gush like a fire hydrant when you come, we’ll be okay.” Siobhan feels her mouth open, and she’s damn glad that the greasepaint means Leslie can’t see her face heating up, but Leslie just winks and presses her mouth to Siobhan’s cunt.
Siobhan’s hips shove forward, her head falling back, grabbing at Leslie’s hair. Her costume is bunched around her ankles, and she pushes her heels back against the crate she’s sat on so she can spread her knees wider. Leslie’s fucking savage, her lips dragging against Siobhan’s pussy, mouthing at her rough enough to make Siobhan tremble, her clit throbbing under Leslie’s tongue.
She gets a better grip on Leslie’s hair, rolling into the way her lips move, fucking herself against Leslie’s mouth. The air feels hot around her, and all Siobhan can smell is sex, surrounding them and pressing down on her until she can taste it across the back of her tongue.
Leslie works two fingers into her, stroking along her insides, and Siobhan tries to warn her how close she is, but it’s too late. Leslie’s fingers push up against her g-spot, and Siobhan’s clamping down on them, so tight and needy. And that’s when she feels it, this spark of bright feeling across her clit, this spark of electricity, and Siobhan throws her head back and screams, the building shaking around them as she comes with Leslie’s fingers buried inside her and Leslie’s laughter vibrating against her cunt.
Siobhan struggles to catch her breath, gasping raggedly, while Leslie sits back on her heels, smirking up at her and licking Siobhan’s juices off her fingers. “See,” Leslie says, looking smug as hell, “a little electricity isn’t such a bad thing.”
The warehouse is starting to smell like thunderstorms and fireworks.
“Fucking knew you’d be a screamer,” Leslie deadpans.
“Shut up,” Siobhan mutters, but she’s smiling too, something excited beating in her chest. This is her life now, and Leslie’s a part of that, and Siobhan reaches forward, dragging Leslie in for a kiss that smudges her greasepaint more than ever, ready to conquer National City with this woman at her side.
Fandom: Supergirl (TVverse)
Pairing: Siobhan/Leslie
Rating: NC-17
Words: 886
Timeline: Season One's Worlds Finest
Notes: Spoilers for Supergirl. Electricity kink. For Ladies Bingo, prompt "smell", and a prompt at the Supergirl Kink Meme.
Summary: Siobhan's suiting up, but Leslie's more interested in undressing her.
The warehouse smells dank and dusty. Nothing like the attractive scents of Siobhan’s apartment, with her expensive sheets and the candles her aunt always gives her on birthdays, or even the smell of coffee and clean air-conditioning at the CatCo offices. But that’s good - this is Siobhan’s life now, not the one she’s always known, so why shouldn’t everything be different, even the air.
There are chemical smells, too, from the white spray she’s run through her hair, sharp and acrid, and the artificial soapy scent of the greasepaint she’s spread across her face. Siobhan frowns in concentration as she studies her reflection in the mirror, making the lines of black at her cheeks sharper until her face looks hollowed out, like she’s caught in a permanent scream.
“Don’t forget these, princess,” Leslie smirks, holding out a small plastic case.
Siobhan takes it, looks at the contents, and rolls her eyes. They’re coloured contact lenses, designed to make eyes look unnaturally pale. “Jesus, look at this cheap shit. Did you rob a Party City or something?”
Leslie just grins at her, her own eyes too dark and wrong, but it’s because of her powers, not anything like the Hot Topic rejects she’s handed to Siobhan. “Maybe I did,” she shrugs. “Don’t think you can pull it off?”
Siobhan snorts, but truthfully the contacts aren’t that bad, not really. She remembers seeing pictures of banshees in storybooks as a child, their faces gaunt and pale as the moon, their eyes a ghostly white. She’s tried to paint that on to her face, tried to capture the nightmares those storybooks inspired in her, but it hasn’t been working.
Because it’s still her own eyes staring back at her from the mirror. But with the contacts, it will be different - it will be the new her, it will be the Banshee.
“Yeah,” Leslie murmurs. “Knew you’d like them.” She takes the mirror from Siobhan’s hand, straddling her lap, and when she kisses Siobhan it’s hard enough to tip her head back, her hands digging into Leslie’s arms just to keep her balance.
Siobhan’s breathing roughly when Leslie releases her with a laugh. “I just did my lips,” she hisses, knowing the greasepaint there will be smudged beyond repair.
“So do them again,” Leslie mocks, and kisses her again, harder than before, nastier. Her hands push into Siobhan’s hair, and it makes the smell of hairspray flare stronger around them. And Leslie herself is a wave of new scents: burning rubber and spice and metal and salty skin. She kisses like she looks, dangerous and thrilling, and Siobhan clings to her, moaning against Leslie’s lips.
“You’re a mess already,” Leslie teases when she pulls back, Siobhan’s black and white greasepaint smeared across her mouth. She goes to her knees, pushing Siobhan’s legs apart and grinning up at her. “Let’s see just how messy you can get.”
She yanks at Siobhan’s costume, and Siobhan lifts her lips, letting it be pulled down over her ass. “I swear, if you electrocute me,” she mutters, and Leslie laughs again and scratches her nails up Siobhan’s inner thighs.
“Relax,” she says playfully. “As long as you don’t gush like a fire hydrant when you come, we’ll be okay.” Siobhan feels her mouth open, and she’s damn glad that the greasepaint means Leslie can’t see her face heating up, but Leslie just winks and presses her mouth to Siobhan’s cunt.
Siobhan’s hips shove forward, her head falling back, grabbing at Leslie’s hair. Her costume is bunched around her ankles, and she pushes her heels back against the crate she’s sat on so she can spread her knees wider. Leslie’s fucking savage, her lips dragging against Siobhan’s pussy, mouthing at her rough enough to make Siobhan tremble, her clit throbbing under Leslie’s tongue.
She gets a better grip on Leslie’s hair, rolling into the way her lips move, fucking herself against Leslie’s mouth. The air feels hot around her, and all Siobhan can smell is sex, surrounding them and pressing down on her until she can taste it across the back of her tongue.
Leslie works two fingers into her, stroking along her insides, and Siobhan tries to warn her how close she is, but it’s too late. Leslie’s fingers push up against her g-spot, and Siobhan’s clamping down on them, so tight and needy. And that’s when she feels it, this spark of bright feeling across her clit, this spark of electricity, and Siobhan throws her head back and screams, the building shaking around them as she comes with Leslie’s fingers buried inside her and Leslie’s laughter vibrating against her cunt.
Siobhan struggles to catch her breath, gasping raggedly, while Leslie sits back on her heels, smirking up at her and licking Siobhan’s juices off her fingers. “See,” Leslie says, looking smug as hell, “a little electricity isn’t such a bad thing.”
The warehouse is starting to smell like thunderstorms and fireworks.
“Fucking knew you’d be a screamer,” Leslie deadpans.
“Shut up,” Siobhan mutters, but she’s smiling too, something excited beating in her chest. This is her life now, and Leslie’s a part of that, and Siobhan reaches forward, dragging Leslie in for a kiss that smudges her greasepaint more than ever, ready to conquer National City with this woman at her side.