Post by Kit on Mar 9, 2011 2:39:38 GMT 10
Title: Test threads [1]
Rating: R
Word Count: 361
Pairing: Lark/Rosethorn
Round/Fight: 1/B
Summary: Rosethorn is surprised.
The first time it happened, her body flushed and too languid to feel the minute shifting of fibres against her damp skin, Rosethorn stared.
“Oh, what?”
Lark, newly named and still a little brilliant with it—the bergamot and pepper and honey scents of the Dedication oils not yet quite from her skin—laughed at her. Dark curls made intricate shadows on her face as she tilted her head, watching as sheets twisted and slipped and twined themselves about her ankles and her wrists. Lips twitching, she flicked one hand a little to the left, and Rosethorn bit her lip on a hiss as her leg opened up. She was spread there, staring, and Lark watched. She felt blood rush to her face.
“Your hamstrings are atrocious,” Lark said, trailing fingertips up along the inside of her thigh.
“That’s hardly—been a problem.”
“You’re so impatient.” There was something dark and fierce in Lark’s voice, even as she touched her gently—too gently—and the very bed they shared kept Rosethorn pinned and waiting.
Lark bent to kiss her hand, and Rosethorn shuddered, eyes sightless, when she felt the tip of her tongue slip beneath the bonds at the inside of her wrist, dragging against her skin. “It’s wonderful, Rosie,” she said, breathless. “I love that part of you. The urgent part, with your hands in my hair and your body sure, against my hands, my mouth…”
Her skin was tight, pulse fast and swollen in her throat. Lark’s mouth was light and slow, an open mouthed bare kiss against her shoulder, her breast and belly. Sweat pooled there, and under her back. Between her legs.
“Lark—”
“But I want more from you, Rosie. And you have it.” She smiled, eyes dancing, and dragged her fingers slowly back along her thigh. “You just don’t know it yet.”
Rosethorn, even through the haze of need and sensation she could feel creeping through her brain, spluttered. “I always thought you’d be—”
“—if you say pliant, Rosie, I’ll bite you.”
The cords tightened, and Rosethorn laughed. She laughed and felt free with it, and met her friend’s eyes.
“Pliant,” she said.
QC by: journeycat
Rating: R
Word Count: 361
Pairing: Lark/Rosethorn
Round/Fight: 1/B
Summary: Rosethorn is surprised.
The first time it happened, her body flushed and too languid to feel the minute shifting of fibres against her damp skin, Rosethorn stared.
“Oh, what?”
Lark, newly named and still a little brilliant with it—the bergamot and pepper and honey scents of the Dedication oils not yet quite from her skin—laughed at her. Dark curls made intricate shadows on her face as she tilted her head, watching as sheets twisted and slipped and twined themselves about her ankles and her wrists. Lips twitching, she flicked one hand a little to the left, and Rosethorn bit her lip on a hiss as her leg opened up. She was spread there, staring, and Lark watched. She felt blood rush to her face.
“Your hamstrings are atrocious,” Lark said, trailing fingertips up along the inside of her thigh.
“That’s hardly—been a problem.”
“You’re so impatient.” There was something dark and fierce in Lark’s voice, even as she touched her gently—too gently—and the very bed they shared kept Rosethorn pinned and waiting.
Lark bent to kiss her hand, and Rosethorn shuddered, eyes sightless, when she felt the tip of her tongue slip beneath the bonds at the inside of her wrist, dragging against her skin. “It’s wonderful, Rosie,” she said, breathless. “I love that part of you. The urgent part, with your hands in my hair and your body sure, against my hands, my mouth…”
Her skin was tight, pulse fast and swollen in her throat. Lark’s mouth was light and slow, an open mouthed bare kiss against her shoulder, her breast and belly. Sweat pooled there, and under her back. Between her legs.
“Lark—”
“But I want more from you, Rosie. And you have it.” She smiled, eyes dancing, and dragged her fingers slowly back along her thigh. “You just don’t know it yet.”
Rosethorn, even through the haze of need and sensation she could feel creeping through her brain, spluttered. “I always thought you’d be—”
“—if you say pliant, Rosie, I’ll bite you.”
The cords tightened, and Rosethorn laughed. She laughed and felt free with it, and met her friend’s eyes.
“Pliant,” she said.
QC by: journeycat