A Great And Terrible Beauty- Rude Awakenings.
Title: Rude Awakenings.
Author:
top_hatted_girl .
Rating: R.
Characters/Pairings: Felicity/Pippa.
Summary: Miss Felicity Worthington remembers a night, a morning, and a funeral.
Prompt: Gloves and angel for the Femslash Porn Battle.
Warnings: Explicitly sexual situations.
Disclaimer: I do not claim to own these characters nor the source from which they come, neither do I necessarily condone the situations described within this work of fiction.
The most memorable thing about the entire dance, Felicity would later think, was the look on the face of the gentleman who’d been dancing with Pippa until Miss Felicity Worthington strode up and said, “Why, my dearest Pip, you’ve been dancing with him quite long enough, I should say,” and then pulled Pippa away from the ballroom to the shocked and scandalized looks of all.
This was in the pre-Gemma days, as Felicity had come to mark them- a ball before the realms, and before magic, and before… before Felicity had to say good-bye to the person she loved best in all this world and in all the others.
They’d wandered from the ballroom, gloved fingers laced together, occasionally stopping at corners so that Felicity could bring her hand to Pippa’s face, turn it towards her, and crane her neck to kiss the side of Pippa’s throat. The sound she made when Felicity’s mouth found her there was too tempting not to try.
When they found the manse’s sitting room and Pippa had secured the door behind them, Felicity fell in a whoosh of skirts onto the chaise lounge and looked at the enormous glass window with rain streaking heavily down it. When she had switched on the gaslight lamp and looked back at Pippa, Pippa’s eyes were on her. Bringing her hand to her lips, Pippa pulled at the fingertip of her glove with her white teeth and slowly brought the fabric away from her home before letting it fall in a cascade of lace to the floor.
And then there was no controlling Felicity, who pulled her down onto the chaise and ran her hands over her breasts and her back, yanking at the fabric and Pippa doing likewise, removing the dresses from both their bodies until they were unashamedly naked and entangled with one another, kissing feverishly and moaning and shaking and nearly weeping with the necessity, the desire written in the night.
They collapsed finally into each other’s arms, Pippa resting her head against Felicity’s stomach and letting Felicity run her hands over her fine silken shoulder blades.
“I don’t want to leave,” Pippa said quietly.
Felicity bent and pressed a kiss into her dark curls. Pippa shifted her head to kiss Felicity’s skin and lap at the underside of her breast with her velvet-soft tongue. Felicity shuddered. “We have to,” Felicity said. “We have to go.”
The next bright morning during chapel, Felicity turned her head during prayer and watched Pippa. Her head was bent delicately, eyes shut tightly and lips pressed together like the petals of a closed flower. The dusty sunlight filtering from one of the high stained-glass windows framed her head in a ring of gold. Her face looked unnaturally serene.
This was the image she would remember only a few years later- when they buried Pippa. As the soil was replaced over her coffin, Felicity held her single white lily in her hands and looked down at it. She did not cry, because that was done. Instead, she held the flower in the air, as if to catch in it the light of the cruelly glowing sun, and let it fall to the dirt.
My angel, she thought. My Pippa. Wherever she was… perhaps she was at peace, perhaps she finally escaped the world that had not understood. Perhaps there was a blessing in this after all. Personally, she doubted it.
Miss Felicity Worthington straightened her spine and walked back towards her carriage.
Author:
top_hatted_girl .
Rating: R.
Characters/Pairings: Felicity/Pippa.
Summary: Miss Felicity Worthington remembers a night, a morning, and a funeral.
Prompt: Gloves and angel for the Femslash Porn Battle.
Warnings: Explicitly sexual situations.
Disclaimer: I do not claim to own these characters nor the source from which they come, neither do I necessarily condone the situations described within this work of fiction.
The most memorable thing about the entire dance, Felicity would later think, was the look on the face of the gentleman who’d been dancing with Pippa until Miss Felicity Worthington strode up and said, “Why, my dearest Pip, you’ve been dancing with him quite long enough, I should say,” and then pulled Pippa away from the ballroom to the shocked and scandalized looks of all.
This was in the pre-Gemma days, as Felicity had come to mark them- a ball before the realms, and before magic, and before… before Felicity had to say good-bye to the person she loved best in all this world and in all the others.
They’d wandered from the ballroom, gloved fingers laced together, occasionally stopping at corners so that Felicity could bring her hand to Pippa’s face, turn it towards her, and crane her neck to kiss the side of Pippa’s throat. The sound she made when Felicity’s mouth found her there was too tempting not to try.
When they found the manse’s sitting room and Pippa had secured the door behind them, Felicity fell in a whoosh of skirts onto the chaise lounge and looked at the enormous glass window with rain streaking heavily down it. When she had switched on the gaslight lamp and looked back at Pippa, Pippa’s eyes were on her. Bringing her hand to her lips, Pippa pulled at the fingertip of her glove with her white teeth and slowly brought the fabric away from her home before letting it fall in a cascade of lace to the floor.
And then there was no controlling Felicity, who pulled her down onto the chaise and ran her hands over her breasts and her back, yanking at the fabric and Pippa doing likewise, removing the dresses from both their bodies until they were unashamedly naked and entangled with one another, kissing feverishly and moaning and shaking and nearly weeping with the necessity, the desire written in the night.
They collapsed finally into each other’s arms, Pippa resting her head against Felicity’s stomach and letting Felicity run her hands over her fine silken shoulder blades.
“I don’t want to leave,” Pippa said quietly.
Felicity bent and pressed a kiss into her dark curls. Pippa shifted her head to kiss Felicity’s skin and lap at the underside of her breast with her velvet-soft tongue. Felicity shuddered. “We have to,” Felicity said. “We have to go.”
The next bright morning during chapel, Felicity turned her head during prayer and watched Pippa. Her head was bent delicately, eyes shut tightly and lips pressed together like the petals of a closed flower. The dusty sunlight filtering from one of the high stained-glass windows framed her head in a ring of gold. Her face looked unnaturally serene.
This was the image she would remember only a few years later- when they buried Pippa. As the soil was replaced over her coffin, Felicity held her single white lily in her hands and looked down at it. She did not cry, because that was done. Instead, she held the flower in the air, as if to catch in it the light of the cruelly glowing sun, and let it fall to the dirt.
My angel, she thought. My Pippa. Wherever she was… perhaps she was at peace, perhaps she finally escaped the world that had not understood. Perhaps there was a blessing in this after all. Personally, she doubted it.
Miss Felicity Worthington straightened her spine and walked back towards her carriage.