Dana/Lisa wip
Mar. 19th, 2004 07:25 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
out_thereClass was okay. I started to tune out to the lecture and ended up writing a bit of fic.
She's soft under your hands. Gentle curves and soft skin, and her perfume is sweetly floral when you breathe in. You trace over her shoulders, over the pale skin that never quite tans. Her eyes close, and you watch her chest rise and fall, her breathing become heavier.
The straps of her cotton summer top rest lightly on her skin, and it's easy to push them down her shoulders.
You stop for a moment and feel yoursel start to frown as you think about her top. It's a pale peach, pretty enough, but you didn't thin about how to take it off her. Lisa's eyes flutter open. You wish her green eyes didn't look as uncertain as you feel. She bites her lower lip, and looks away, but you don't want this to end yet. It's selfish and needy, and has far more to do with the throbbing between your legs than what's best for both of you.
Running a finger over the hem of her top, you watch her until she turns back to you. "I like this." She smiles, nervously and you beam back at her. "It looks good on you."
She nods and when she speaks, her voice is tremulous. "There was a-a light blue one, too. I thought of you when I saw it."
She's nervous. You knew this, but... it suddenly hits you that she's *nervous*. Lisa, ever gracious Lisa, the girl who always managed to appeal cool and collected, confident and self-assured, is nervous. It gives you a sudden burst of excitement a sudden sense of power. You've always been the uncertain one; in college, you looked to her for guidance, to reassure you how you should act, what you should say.
Your roles have been reversed and now she's looking to you, waiting for you to lead her.
You slide your hands up her tank top, feeling the press of her nipples against your palms. Moving your hands back down, you cup her breast gently. "You look good," you say gruffly, and her breath rushes out in a hiss.
Her breasts fit your hands well, and you like the heavy warmth of them against your palms. You can feel the underwire of her bra, the layers of soft material between your hands and her skin, and you guess that he still wears the plain, practical bras she favoured in college. The ones designed not to be noticed under clothes, to be comfortable and gently supportive.
Her nipples harden further as you move your fingers, breaking the smooth line of the cotton. Running your thumbs your thumbs over them in feaher-light circles makes her moan softly and arch her back. You do it again and again, until her mouth is parted and her eyes are closed, until she's gasping little breathy moans. Her hand reaches out blindly, landing on your jawline and curling fingers around your neck.
She's soft under your hands. Gentle curves and soft skin, and her perfume is sweetly floral when you breathe in. You trace over her shoulders, over the pale skin that never quite tans. Her eyes close, and you watch her chest rise and fall, her breathing become heavier.
The straps of her cotton summer top rest lightly on her skin, and it's easy to push them down her shoulders.
You stop for a moment and feel yoursel start to frown as you think about her top. It's a pale peach, pretty enough, but you didn't thin about how to take it off her. Lisa's eyes flutter open. You wish her green eyes didn't look as uncertain as you feel. She bites her lower lip, and looks away, but you don't want this to end yet. It's selfish and needy, and has far more to do with the throbbing between your legs than what's best for both of you.
Running a finger over the hem of her top, you watch her until she turns back to you. "I like this." She smiles, nervously and you beam back at her. "It looks good on you."
She nods and when she speaks, her voice is tremulous. "There was a-a light blue one, too. I thought of you when I saw it."
She's nervous. You knew this, but... it suddenly hits you that she's *nervous*. Lisa, ever gracious Lisa, the girl who always managed to appeal cool and collected, confident and self-assured, is nervous. It gives you a sudden burst of excitement a sudden sense of power. You've always been the uncertain one; in college, you looked to her for guidance, to reassure you how you should act, what you should say.
Your roles have been reversed and now she's looking to you, waiting for you to lead her.
You slide your hands up her tank top, feeling the press of her nipples against your palms. Moving your hands back down, you cup her breast gently. "You look good," you say gruffly, and her breath rushes out in a hiss.
Her breasts fit your hands well, and you like the heavy warmth of them against your palms. You can feel the underwire of her bra, the layers of soft material between your hands and her skin, and you guess that he still wears the plain, practical bras she favoured in college. The ones designed not to be noticed under clothes, to be comfortable and gently supportive.
Her nipples harden further as you move your fingers, breaking the smooth line of the cotton. Running your thumbs your thumbs over them in feaher-light circles makes her moan softly and arch her back. You do it again and again, until her mouth is parted and her eyes are closed, until she's gasping little breathy moans. Her hand reaches out blindly, landing on your jawline and curling fingers around your neck.
no subject
Date: 2004-03-18 08:44 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-03-18 09:28 pm (UTC)Thanks for the reassurance. It's the first time I've tried femslash (not counting a tiny Chloe/Lana drabble), and certainly the first time I've tried anything explicit. Hence, lots of..."huh. how do i describe this?" going on while writing.