Post by Carbon Kiwi on Apr 24, 2011 7:56:48 GMT 10
Title: A Different Kind of Gift
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 531
Pairing: Lark / Rosethorn
Round/Fight: 2B
Warnings: Implied sex
Summary: What better birthday gift could she ever truly receive?
Notes: Floofyfluff.
The 16th of Barley Moon was generally a good day in Lark’s book. It was, after all, her birthday—a day that she held closer to heart than even Rosie’s birthday. Rosethorn tended to take great guilt in her own birthdays—the true and the chosen—but did not extend the same feeling to the birthdays of others, especially Lark’s. It allowed them both to appreciate Lark’s birthday together, without guilt.
For someone who scorned ‘regular’ romance as a whole (‘normalised void-minded behaviour intent on making all adults drooling, babbling fools’), Rosie was surprisingly adept at dealing with Lark’s birthday. Then, Lark probably would have thought that as long as Rosethorn was merely present; she was not difficult to please.
She cradled her new shuttle in her hand. Rosethorn was so thoughtful to have had one created especially…even if Lark had cursed her old lack-lustre shuttle especially loud as a hint to her partner.
It was her tradition to start a new shuttle with a new project, one it was most fitted for. This one would have to be an especially meaningful work—which probably meant it would be intended for Rosethorn as a form of gratitude. Lark smiled.
But evening was fast approaching and Rosethorn would be emerging from her workroom soon. Lark’s birthday was one of the few days that the woman kept to her schedule, as it was a gift to someone else. Lark cherished it. Given Lark’s activities of choice, Rosie never seemed to mind, either.
When Rosethorn at last appeared—Lark was impatient, so the minutes grew long—they greeted each other at the mouth, all hungry lips and tongues without the preamble. Tradition made the meeting smooth and easy; they both knew what they wanted on the day. Rosie’s shuttle was only one of her birthday gifts to Lark—many more would come through the evening. These gifts would be different but would have Rosie’s name all over them just the same.
With a grin that was both wicked and grateful, Rosie pressed forward with her hips and mouth, arms snaked around Lark as she backed the woman toward the bedroom. As soon as the door was closed, their clothing fell off them in a waterfall of fabric. Rosethorn pushed her lover onto the bed.
“Happy birthday, Lark.”
Lark shared many happy evenings with Rosie, but tradition made Lark’s birthday one of the happiest and most fulfilling of all.
When Lark woke the next morning to find Rosethorn still cradled in her arms, she smiled and kissed the woman’s soft shoulder. She took in the smell of Rosie’s close-cropped auburn waves and rested once more against the pillow, pressing closer to her partner. Lark’s eyes closed once more.
Perhaps her favourite part of Rosie’s more personal gift was that it lasted into the next day. The day after Lark’s birthday was one of the few days—and only consistent day—during which Rosethorn would sleep in late with Lark’s arms snug around her. Lark was allowed to sleep as long as she wanted, sure in the knowledge that Rosie would in her arms when she awoke.
What better birthday gift could she ever truly receive?
QC by PeroxidePirate
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 531
Pairing: Lark / Rosethorn
Round/Fight: 2B
Warnings: Implied sex
Summary: What better birthday gift could she ever truly receive?
Notes: Floofyfluff.
The 16th of Barley Moon was generally a good day in Lark’s book. It was, after all, her birthday—a day that she held closer to heart than even Rosie’s birthday. Rosethorn tended to take great guilt in her own birthdays—the true and the chosen—but did not extend the same feeling to the birthdays of others, especially Lark’s. It allowed them both to appreciate Lark’s birthday together, without guilt.
For someone who scorned ‘regular’ romance as a whole (‘normalised void-minded behaviour intent on making all adults drooling, babbling fools’), Rosie was surprisingly adept at dealing with Lark’s birthday. Then, Lark probably would have thought that as long as Rosethorn was merely present; she was not difficult to please.
She cradled her new shuttle in her hand. Rosethorn was so thoughtful to have had one created especially…even if Lark had cursed her old lack-lustre shuttle especially loud as a hint to her partner.
It was her tradition to start a new shuttle with a new project, one it was most fitted for. This one would have to be an especially meaningful work—which probably meant it would be intended for Rosethorn as a form of gratitude. Lark smiled.
But evening was fast approaching and Rosethorn would be emerging from her workroom soon. Lark’s birthday was one of the few days that the woman kept to her schedule, as it was a gift to someone else. Lark cherished it. Given Lark’s activities of choice, Rosie never seemed to mind, either.
When Rosethorn at last appeared—Lark was impatient, so the minutes grew long—they greeted each other at the mouth, all hungry lips and tongues without the preamble. Tradition made the meeting smooth and easy; they both knew what they wanted on the day. Rosie’s shuttle was only one of her birthday gifts to Lark—many more would come through the evening. These gifts would be different but would have Rosie’s name all over them just the same.
With a grin that was both wicked and grateful, Rosie pressed forward with her hips and mouth, arms snaked around Lark as she backed the woman toward the bedroom. As soon as the door was closed, their clothing fell off them in a waterfall of fabric. Rosethorn pushed her lover onto the bed.
“Happy birthday, Lark.”
Lark shared many happy evenings with Rosie, but tradition made Lark’s birthday one of the happiest and most fulfilling of all.
When Lark woke the next morning to find Rosethorn still cradled in her arms, she smiled and kissed the woman’s soft shoulder. She took in the smell of Rosie’s close-cropped auburn waves and rested once more against the pillow, pressing closer to her partner. Lark’s eyes closed once more.
Perhaps her favourite part of Rosie’s more personal gift was that it lasted into the next day. The day after Lark’s birthday was one of the few days—and only consistent day—during which Rosethorn would sleep in late with Lark’s arms snug around her. Lark was allowed to sleep as long as she wanted, sure in the knowledge that Rosie would in her arms when she awoke.
What better birthday gift could she ever truly receive?
QC by PeroxidePirate