Ilthit (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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femslashficlets2015-06-28 10:29 pm
ilthit) wrote in femslashficlets2015-06-28 10:29 pm
Entry tags:
#013 - Get Lucky (Other Space)
Title: Get Lucky
Fandom: Other Space
Pairing: Tina Shukshin/Karen Lipinski
Rating: NC-17
Prompt: #013 - luck
Word Count: 300
She's more drunk than you are and yeah, maybe that should make you stop, but she's got her hands all over you so it's fine, probably, and she's hot and nerdy like, wow, intense, and her kisses are sloppy but you can feel firm muscles under her uniform, you never had a chance, so you follow her back to her place and the door's barely closed behind you by the time her shirt's off and her breasts are in your hand, and there's a desk piled high with disks and one of those hard copy miniatures of UMP cruisers but then you're on the bed, "DO YOU CONSENT" the computer demands and you both groan your agreement, and she's underneath you on the grey standard issue sheets, her hand's in your hair and your mouth is on her skin, on the sweet pale flesh of her belly, and you pull down her pants because you're itching to feel that warm wetness and god, yes, there, you sink your fingers in between folds of flesh framed in black curls, and she twists and cries and your own pussy pulses in response, she's rolling her hips up so you go in deeper, roll your thumb on her, and there's a sheen of sweat on her brow and she's calling your name and you realize you don't remember hers, it's fine though, it's fine you can find out later, and she is coming she's, she is glorious and you can't wait to have her inside you, and then she's, she's... asleep.
Karen. Her name is Karen.
You slip your fingers out, shake her to make sure, but she's out like a light. The computer reminds you that loss of consciousness equals withdrawal of consent.
You pick up your coat and walk home alone.
Fandom: Other Space
Pairing: Tina Shukshin/Karen Lipinski
Rating: NC-17
Prompt: #013 - luck
Word Count: 300
She's more drunk than you are and yeah, maybe that should make you stop, but she's got her hands all over you so it's fine, probably, and she's hot and nerdy like, wow, intense, and her kisses are sloppy but you can feel firm muscles under her uniform, you never had a chance, so you follow her back to her place and the door's barely closed behind you by the time her shirt's off and her breasts are in your hand, and there's a desk piled high with disks and one of those hard copy miniatures of UMP cruisers but then you're on the bed, "DO YOU CONSENT" the computer demands and you both groan your agreement, and she's underneath you on the grey standard issue sheets, her hand's in your hair and your mouth is on her skin, on the sweet pale flesh of her belly, and you pull down her pants because you're itching to feel that warm wetness and god, yes, there, you sink your fingers in between folds of flesh framed in black curls, and she twists and cries and your own pussy pulses in response, she's rolling her hips up so you go in deeper, roll your thumb on her, and there's a sheen of sweat on her brow and she's calling your name and you realize you don't remember hers, it's fine though, it's fine you can find out later, and she is coming she's, she is glorious and you can't wait to have her inside you, and then she's, she's... asleep.
Karen. Her name is Karen.
You slip your fingers out, shake her to make sure, but she's out like a light. The computer reminds you that loss of consciousness equals withdrawal of consent.
You pick up your coat and walk home alone.