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femslashficlets2019-02-26 07:49 am
ilthit) wrote in femslashficlets2019-02-26 07:49 am
Entry tags:
[198] Big Time (Chicago)
Title: Big Time
Fandom: Chicago (2002)
Characters/Pairings: Velma Kelly/Mama Morton
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 200
Notes: For the prompt “scar”. References to violence.
“You still got time for Mama, Big Time?”
“I got nothing but time,” Velma replied, but the curve of her red lips showed she still remembered. Her eyes raked down Mama’s tux. “Fuck, you make that look good, Mama.”
Mama looked around the hotel bar, the red plush carpet, the gilded handles, gleaming brass. “You got a room in this place? Not sharing with that Roxie Hart, are you?”
“You know me,” said Velma, leaning close to whisper in her ear. “I don’t share.”
Fifteen minutes later Mama had her against the mirror over a gilded sink, leaving powder handprints in the glass, her little beaded skirt hitched up to her waist. “Fuck, fuck me,” Velma said, those clever fingers bringing her right back to Mama’s office at the penitentiary. She swore to fucking god, if Roxie did Mama like this she’d do them both like Veronica and Charlie. Anybody but each other. Her hands still remembered the knife, as if it had been edged into her palm that night.
“Jesus, you do that well.” She could hear her own pussy under Mama’s fingers as she gasped against the mirror, leaving a red gash of lipstick across its shiny surface.
Fandom: Chicago (2002)
Characters/Pairings: Velma Kelly/Mama Morton
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 200
Notes: For the prompt “scar”. References to violence.
“You still got time for Mama, Big Time?”
“I got nothing but time,” Velma replied, but the curve of her red lips showed she still remembered. Her eyes raked down Mama’s tux. “Fuck, you make that look good, Mama.”
Mama looked around the hotel bar, the red plush carpet, the gilded handles, gleaming brass. “You got a room in this place? Not sharing with that Roxie Hart, are you?”
“You know me,” said Velma, leaning close to whisper in her ear. “I don’t share.”
Fifteen minutes later Mama had her against the mirror over a gilded sink, leaving powder handprints in the glass, her little beaded skirt hitched up to her waist. “Fuck, fuck me,” Velma said, those clever fingers bringing her right back to Mama’s office at the penitentiary. She swore to fucking god, if Roxie did Mama like this she’d do them both like Veronica and Charlie. Anybody but each other. Her hands still remembered the knife, as if it had been edged into her palm that night.
“Jesus, you do that well.” She could hear her own pussy under Mama’s fingers as she gasped against the mirror, leaving a red gash of lipstick across its shiny surface.