![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wisdomeagleI'm not sure if this method is actually saving you from spam, but I think it's still better than the alternative.
Title: "Proof in the Eating"
Fandom: Ugly Betty
Pairing: Betty/Christina
Other pairings mentioned: Betty/Henry
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: They belong to really fabulous people. Not me.
Notes: For the 6th Porn Battle. Also posted here.
Summary: Comfort food (in liquid form).
Wordcount: 500
Proof in the Eating
"There now, it's okay," says Christina. Her breath smells like alcohol, but her lap is so soft that Betty doesn't care. Anyhow, she likes drinking, so... so it's okay if Christina's bodily fluids are probably ninety proof (twice the... something. Volume. It's mathy and liquor-related and Henry explained it to her but Henry's gone awaaaaaaay.)
"Hey now. You were supposed to forget your troubles and drown them. Good liquor's going to waste here. Drink up." Christina tips another shot into Betty's mouth and Betty swallows then lands headfirst in Christina's lap again. She belongs here. She's safe here. It feels good here, and there are strong hands on her shoulders, and she's drooling in a beautiful designer skirt that Christina stole and drinking alcohol purchased with Henry Meade's hard-earned money, stolen clothes, stolen drinks, stolen moments...
"You're thinking too hard," says Christina, at intervals, then lets Betty moan for awhile (drunk, sad), then repeats. "You're thinking too hard. Have another shot." At some point she's just going to pass out, and that will be okay, only she doesn't want to stain Christina's perfect lap and she doesn't want to mess this up, doesn't want Christina to think she's a girl who passes out on her friends' laps, doesn't want to be a cheap daaaaaaate. She's sobbing again.
"Up now. Let me fix this."
Christina hauls Betty to her feet, and through foggy glasses Betty sees her disapproval. "You're a mess, sweetie. Your eyes are all red..." And Christina takes her glasses off (and her vision's worse than gone; the world's a soft, blurry afterimage, vaguely Christina-shaped), rubs her fingers over Betty's eyelids. Then the blur leans in, and the softness against Betty's eyes isn't fingers. It's lip-soft and sticky, lipbalm. A moment later, it's cherry-flavored, oh.
"And your mouth's all pouty."
Betty can't not giggle, and the giggle becomes a snort and then a choke and then Christina's kissing her properly, lips and tongue, and Betty, straight-edged straight-laced Betty, is kissing back. And more. Christina's soft all over, her hips, her butt, her breasts against Betty's breasts, her hands around Betty's neck, but her kiss is hard and her legs are hard and one of them is wrapped around Betty, pulling Betty down, so they're both awkwardly balanced in a barcalounger and not just kissing but making out. Betty has a handful of breast she doesn't know what to do with; she holds it, then teases a finger over the nipple, and the sounds Christina makes aren't happy but giggly.
"Too soft, Betty, too soft. Don't... tickle."
And Christina's hand closes over Betty's, forces her to find the right rhythm, to circle in time with Christina's heartbeat, and then Christina moans. And then they're getting somewhere.
Everything is blurry, drunk-blurry and astigmatic-blurry and just Betty-blurry, too fast and different for her to notice all the stages of undress, the progression from fingers to tongues, from above-the-waist to below-the-waist to, suddenly, making love. Right there in Christina's workroom, right there where anyone could see, right there, right there, right there. Christina finds her clitoris, knows her clitoris, licks and sucks and devours her clitoris, and that part's not soft or hazy, but crystal clear. Not comfort, maybe, but definitely climax, and worth the tears.
Title: "Proof in the Eating"
Fandom: Ugly Betty
Pairing: Betty/Christina
Other pairings mentioned: Betty/Henry
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: They belong to really fabulous people. Not me.
Notes: For the 6th Porn Battle. Also posted here.
Summary: Comfort food (in liquid form).
Wordcount: 500
Proof in the Eating
"There now, it's okay," says Christina. Her breath smells like alcohol, but her lap is so soft that Betty doesn't care. Anyhow, she likes drinking, so... so it's okay if Christina's bodily fluids are probably ninety proof (twice the... something. Volume. It's mathy and liquor-related and Henry explained it to her but Henry's gone awaaaaaaay.)
"Hey now. You were supposed to forget your troubles and drown them. Good liquor's going to waste here. Drink up." Christina tips another shot into Betty's mouth and Betty swallows then lands headfirst in Christina's lap again. She belongs here. She's safe here. It feels good here, and there are strong hands on her shoulders, and she's drooling in a beautiful designer skirt that Christina stole and drinking alcohol purchased with Henry Meade's hard-earned money, stolen clothes, stolen drinks, stolen moments...
"You're thinking too hard," says Christina, at intervals, then lets Betty moan for awhile (drunk, sad), then repeats. "You're thinking too hard. Have another shot." At some point she's just going to pass out, and that will be okay, only she doesn't want to stain Christina's perfect lap and she doesn't want to mess this up, doesn't want Christina to think she's a girl who passes out on her friends' laps, doesn't want to be a cheap daaaaaaate. She's sobbing again.
"Up now. Let me fix this."
Christina hauls Betty to her feet, and through foggy glasses Betty sees her disapproval. "You're a mess, sweetie. Your eyes are all red..." And Christina takes her glasses off (and her vision's worse than gone; the world's a soft, blurry afterimage, vaguely Christina-shaped), rubs her fingers over Betty's eyelids. Then the blur leans in, and the softness against Betty's eyes isn't fingers. It's lip-soft and sticky, lipbalm. A moment later, it's cherry-flavored, oh.
"And your mouth's all pouty."
Betty can't not giggle, and the giggle becomes a snort and then a choke and then Christina's kissing her properly, lips and tongue, and Betty, straight-edged straight-laced Betty, is kissing back. And more. Christina's soft all over, her hips, her butt, her breasts against Betty's breasts, her hands around Betty's neck, but her kiss is hard and her legs are hard and one of them is wrapped around Betty, pulling Betty down, so they're both awkwardly balanced in a barcalounger and not just kissing but making out. Betty has a handful of breast she doesn't know what to do with; she holds it, then teases a finger over the nipple, and the sounds Christina makes aren't happy but giggly.
"Too soft, Betty, too soft. Don't... tickle."
And Christina's hand closes over Betty's, forces her to find the right rhythm, to circle in time with Christina's heartbeat, and then Christina moans. And then they're getting somewhere.
Everything is blurry, drunk-blurry and astigmatic-blurry and just Betty-blurry, too fast and different for her to notice all the stages of undress, the progression from fingers to tongues, from above-the-waist to below-the-waist to, suddenly, making love. Right there in Christina's workroom, right there where anyone could see, right there, right there, right there. Christina finds her clitoris, knows her clitoris, licks and sucks and devours her clitoris, and that part's not soft or hazy, but crystal clear. Not comfort, maybe, but definitely climax, and worth the tears.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-07-29 07:58 pm (UTC)(no subject)
From: