Fic: The Waters Are Sleeping -- for Elfin
Dec. 28th, 2012 12:38 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
notanelfnorelfin posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
fringe_exchangeTitle: The Waters Are Sleeping
Rating: Explicit
Length: approx. 3,000 words
Timeline: Early Season Five
Relationships: Astrid Farnsworth/Etta Bishop
Tags: fix-it, alternate take, what-if, hurt/comfort
Summary: One person's choices. Many other persons' lives.
Notes: At the end.
I.
Too much like the capsicum the Observers so loved to a human stomach, air was burning in her lungs. Astrid kept running.
'Help Etta. Save Walter. Be careful.' Peter's words and previous instructions to her had been precise -- as precise as Olivia's gunshots covering them all. Up, up, up the stairs went Olivia and Peter; they would double back later.
O ye'll tak' the high road and I'll tak the low road. Astrid was on the one far away from gunfire. The Loyalist patterns of sweeping the warehouse had been methodical so far. Behind her, Astrid could hear the echo of shots being fired. In front of her, it was quiet.
Darkened steel beams and crates. Another piece of wall. Dirt floor covered in debris. Astrid slowed her step and breathed (treading softly and carrying a small stick). Had Walter and Etta even made it this far? She had been out of the field. But this afternoon's raid of the lab had left it Ambered and had left Astrid without her usual playground. The unusual one -- well. Only so much cataloguing one could do. Astrid's hand slid down to the test tube strapped to her belt.
Earlier this afternoon, she could have sat and waited: for the Observers and their Loyalist pets not to return, for Olivia and Peter, Etta and Walter to do so. Astrid would have; she had already crawled into their air-vent hideaway. But Walter's words were playing on an endless loop in her head. Time to create a few Fringe events of our own.
The sound of splintering glass, of something heavy colliding with a surface broke through. A human voice abruptly strangled. Astrid's mouth went dry and her step even softer -- out of fear rather than stealth.
Ducking down behind a wall, glancing around its corner, her heart jumped -- twice, as if for having found Etta as well as Windmark himself. Etta was struggling, pinned to a beam by Windmark, her eyes ablaze and her feet kicking. But on a creature incapable of pain and without any leverage, even someone as strong and combat-practiced as Etta could do little damage. These inhuman hands were wrapped too tightly around her throat. Another two, three minutes, and she would lose consciousness. No time to get Olivia, or Peter.
So Astrid kept sneaking closer, hid only by the shadows. Not close enough to quite understand what Windmark was saying to Etta; his back was to Astrid -- something about a necklace? For whom?
A gust of wind came from the broken window behind Etta. Astrid bit her lip. If he were here, Walter would now calculate the direction of his velocity and acceleration vectors.
"I would like to know." Windmark's hiss was sheathed in silk.
Astrid wasn't Walter. But she was a former College Softball Champion.
Her fingers loosened the strap, weighed the tube, and threw it. She watched the perfect arc it described, its near-perfect spin, until the glass filled with blue powder was about to hit Windmark's left shoulder-blade.
About to.
Pale hands closed around the tube before it exploded, the motion as ever having been too fast for human eyes. But Windmark had spun around to face her. Astrid noted, distantly, that his eyes were wide open. She noted one more thing: The same pale hands were no longer closed around Etta's throat.
"Nice try, Miss Farnsworth. I assume this is some explosive Dr. Bishop concocted in his --"
Windmark broke off. His mouth opened as wide as the deep gash in his throat, but no sound came out. Astrid usually likened the Observers to reptiles in her head, but here and now he reminded her of nothing so much as a stuck pig. Behind his dark shape, Etta swayed. A knife fell from her fingers, clanging on the cement and spattering it the same deep red as the floor at Windmark's feet. He and Etta both slid to the ground, unlikely mirrors.
Only for Windmark, Astrid was there to catch not him but the vial in his hands before it could tumble to the ground and break. She put it away again and removed the gun from the inside of his suit jacket, her fingers turning red and sticky, sharp metallic scent all around them. Observers had many superhuman abilities, but the one to survive without 1.5 gallons of blood was not among them.
Astrid carefully inhaled through her mouth. She had ample practice at avoiding nausea. And it was high time to take care of who was important here. Etta was breathing, labored as it was, and blinked sluggishly up at Astrid. She didn't seem to have hit her head, though; no blood anywhere but her hands.
"Shh. It's gonna be alright, Etta. He's gone; we'll be fine." Astrid wiped her hands on her pants as best she could and tried to lift Etta up. The woman was surprisingly heavy, her muscles solid under the leather jacket. The motion let it slide back, reveal the soft curves underneath her top, right below the marks dotting her throat. Astrid swallowed and looked back at Etta's face.
"Windmark's really dead?" Etta's eyes were bluer than ever against the redness of her face. Astrid could see tiny dark-red spots around her eyes, blood underneath the uppermost layer of skin where Etta's capillaries had burst under pressure. She was still breathtakingly beautiful.
Astrid nodded.
The line of Etta's jaw smoothed out. "Good riddance." Astrid wouldn't have recognized the look on her face if she hadn't seen it many times on Olivia, either Olivia: a quiet but fierce satisfaction. "Thank you, Astrid, for the distraction." It came out with a residual heat that was not directed at Astrid. It was also genuinely grateful.
Astrid wasn't so sure she deserved it. "I'm glad it worked. It could have killed you -- I could have killed you, Etta." Astrid had counted on several factors: the Observers' weakness when it came to predicting random events; a gun was conventional whereas a biological molotov cocktail might be beyond their assumptions. She had counted on the wind blowing from the other side so the powder would hit only Windmark.
Maybe she had also counted on Etta.
Who was still staring at her, almost pensively, shifting into a sitting position and not taking her eyes off Astrid crouched between her and Windmark's body. "But you didn't. We all take risks every single day, for everybody else and with everybody else in the line of fire."
"I know we do."
"Because we have to." Etta reached up, in what had probably been a move to pet Astrid's shoulder, but her hand was clumsy in ways it hadn't been three minutes ago, and her hand touched the side of Astrid's neck, sliding down her clavicle and across her right breast. Etta's fingers on her skin were cool to the touch, rougher than Astrid had absolutely not imagined, no. She gasped, and Etta's eyes widened. "Astrid, I'm sor --"
"It's okay." Astrid felt her cheeks burn, but she took hold of Etta's hand -- the clean one, not the one also stained with blood -- and squeezed it gently. She meant to be reassuring, nothing else, but the expression on Etta's face showed pretty much the opposite. Was that a blush on her face? "I -- I know you just wanted to comfort me."
The flash of a grin appeared on Etta's face, and it was disconcerting because Astrid could see Peter written all over it. But it was also making her heart beat faster, because Etta didn't look at her like she looked at her parents, like she looked at anybody else at all. She was also slow, so slow to extricate her hand from Astrid's. "One thing I wanted to do to you, yes."
Astrid's mouth opened, then closed. She had never been a gambling woman. She had also never been instrumental in killing an Observer without firepower. Astrid held on to Etta's fingers and laced them with hers, watching Etta's face very carefully. She managed to say, "There could be more. Things. After we've made it out of here, all of us."
The corners of Etta's mouth lifted. The color was still high on her cheekbones. She leaned in so Astrid also had to. "Astrid --"
"Etta!" Olivia, her voice cascading through the warehouse, appeared in the doorway across, and Etta and Astrid tumbled apart like guilty schoolchildren. It made Astrid want to laugh and cry at once. Peter appeared behind her, eyes wide and worried. "Are you okay?" Walter's toddled up after them, his eyes asking the same question.
"Yes, we are." Etta turned toward her parents and her grandparent, scanning them before, visibly relieved, smiling luminously. "Unlike Windmark." Her face twisted when she glanced down at his prone form. "Thanks to Astrid, he won't be responsible for any more lives ruined."
Before getting up, she turned her head to Astrid, and her smile returned -- different, muted, but full of promise. "Let's get out of here."
II.
On the ride back, Olivia and Peter hovered around Etta. Astrid didn't pretend to understand being a parent almost losing a daughter; even so she thought of the bruises dotting the pale skin of Etta's neck as a constant reminder of the danger she'd been in and a reminder to seize the day.
Or the night, as the case might be. Outside, darkness was falling, the lights of the New York skyline hiding its raggedness. It was ridiculous to finally let herself fantasize about Etta. And yet. Astrid pressed her face against the cool surface of the car window, drops of condensation prickling her lips in ways that were not unpleasant.
Safely back in Etta's apartment, they hung the windows, lit a few candles, and kicked the jury-rigged heater on. Upon hearing their story of killing Windmark and earning them all a brief reprieve, Walter fussed over Astrid for a good ten minutes: praise for her idea of weaponizing Project Jellyfish and criticism of -- absolutely everything else about it, actually. Astrid nodded and looked proud and chagrined where appropriate, and finally procured a bag of ancient Reed's Ginger Candy courtesy of that hidden storage of his. Walter snagged them from her hands with visible delight and a brief elaboration on how he and Belly had created the Neverending Ginger Chew in '67 but had to abandon it after their test subjects were, well, subject to violent diarrhea two days after consumption of those unbreakable saccharose chain molecules.
Thus managing to escape, Astrid almost stumbled into Olivia and Peter in the doorframe to the kitchen. They were standing close together tonight, heads bent over the map tacked haphazardly to the kitchen wall, their hands brushing gently.
III.
When Astrid excused herself for the night, she did not turn toward her own space. For once, the cold water of the shower seemed like a good idea.
Etta was waiting in her room, lounging on the bed in an almost knee-length New York Liberty t-shirt that must've been navy blue once upon a time. Astrid allowed herself to stare at Etta's legs for just a moment -- naked, her leather pants and jacket as well boots were lined up by and hung up over a chair with the precision of the soldier she was, had to be. Her hair was darker, still wet from washing, and her hands clean: the shade of bright pink that only came from vigorous scrubbing with a nail brush.
"Thought you wouldn't come," Etta said, smile sly, and she would have sounded easy-going and confident to Astrid even half a day ago.
Now she made sure the door behind her was locked, before sitting down on the bed next to Etta, its creak thankfully not very loud. The candle on the nightstand flickered, then stilled.
"How could I not," Astrid whispered, and this time she could lean in without interruption. Etta's lips were chapped, and Astrid didn't think she imagined the tang of iron on her tongue, but she also didn't mind, didn't mind at all. They had to come up for air eventually, and Astrid got the words out. "You said you wanted me."
"Well." Etta shivered against Astrid's lips. Just below the right corner of her mouth, two freckles were beckoning. They tasted just like Etta's skin elsewhere, but Astrid loved the way Etta's eyes slid closed when she kissed them. "Close enough." She felt Etta's hands tugging at the knot that held Astrid's bathrobe together. "Only not. Take it off. Let me see you." Etta was good at the helm. She'd been at it for a long time.
Astrid's heart skipped a beat. "Of course." She let the fabric slide down her shoulders.
"Oh," Etta said, and she said it as if there wasn't quite enough air in the room. There was less blue in her eyes now, pupils blown, and her lower lip was moist where Astrid had licked it.
If Astrid couldn't quite hide her smile there -- well, that was all right. Etta sat up and let her fingers on Astrid's bare skin wander the same path they had this afternoon in an abandoned warehouse: along both side of Astrid's neck, down below her chin, grazing her breasts. Cupping them gently. Astrid let out a sound at Etta's thumb's stroking over her nipples, and immediately felt Etta's mouth on hers, silencing her. "Hush," Etta murmured, but she was smiling against Astrid's lips. "I've missed this."
"I know." Astrid strongly suspected her dry streak was a multiple of Etta's months or even years; it had been, if not felt like, decades since Kim, whom Astrid left, and then left in the past.
"I've seen the way you looked at me when you thought no one would notice," Etta's teeth closed around Astrid's earlobe. "I liked it; I snuck as many car rides and mission positions next to you as I could. But -- so much at stake, and there was no time, no opportunity."
Astrid gasped, arched forward. "Etta, there never is. Unless you make it." She tugged at Etta's tee, upward, and while her hands on Astrid's nipples were sorely missed, this was worth it: Etta, naked save for a pair of proper white undies, all long limbs and skin that was smooth where it wasn't marked with the signs and scars of her battles. Astrid couldn't off the top of her head remember being with a white girl that had freckles, a light dusting of them.
"You're right." Etta bit her lip; that was Astrid's job now, though, and she took over, only gentler, licking into Etta's mouth and running her fingers through Etta's hair, its texture unfamiliar, so fine under her fingers. "Astrid, fuck; please, touch me." She took Astrid's hand, slid it down the flat, muscled plane of her stomach -- girl needs to eat more -- and into her panties. Astrid thought about taking them off, but then beneath the fabric she touched Etta where she was hot and wet, gently sliding her hand back to the swollen nub. Etta made the highest, most helpless sound Astrid had ever heard her make, so Astrid gave up that plan. "Astrid --"
"I got you, baby. Lie down." Etta did, in her eyes, settling onto her back. Astrid smiled and slid two fingers inside Etta, curling them in tune with her thumb circling across her clit. Etta whimpered, her hips lifting off the bed. Astrid slid up Etta's body, sweat-slicked skin on skin, and kissed the bruises on Etta's neck that were turning color like leaves in fall already, her tongue stroking across each of them, rewarded by soft moans from Etta. Good. Astrid found it hard to breathe. She pressed her legs together and added a third finger, moving faster and faster inside her until Etta was bucking against her in an almost continuous motion, riding Astrid's fingers and panting her name up to the point where Astrid could feel her clench hard around her: ripples running through Etta's body before all these locked-up muscles turned loose and languid.
There were beads of sweat, like tiny pearls, on Etta's upper lip, and Astrid kissed them off. She took off Etta's soaked panties, licked her fingers, too. Salt, heat, and the girl who lived. Etta smiled up at her, carded her fingers through Astrid's curls. Her cheeks were flushed and her hair mussed. "You're so gorgeous, Astrid," Etta whispered. "And brave in the field; I wish we'd met earlier. Let me take care of you now."
With a dexterity that shouldn't have surprised Astrid but did, Etta flipped them, a grin dimpling the corner of her mouth. Astrid let out a little oomph! that made Etta grin wider, and shush her again. Strong, elegant fingers spread her legs, and Etta settled between them, found the sweet spot at the back of Astrid knees with her mouth. Astrid trembled, stuffed her fist in her mouth for a moment at Etta's kisses.
"Hook your legs around my shoulders," Etta said softly from her position at the foot of the bed, and Astrid pulled herself together just barely to comply. She tried not to writhe, when Etta's hands spread her open, when Etta used her mouth to delicately flick the soft hood on her clit. Etta went slow, then faster, lips and tongue and only the keen threat of teeth, and Astrid tried not to grind into her face, but it was, it was -- Astrid felt the back of her neck prickle, sensations rolling outwards down into her legs and curling her toes, and then her back was arching, and she was there, there, there.
She must have dozed off for a moment, because when she blinked her eyes open, she was under the covers, not above them, and Etta on her side next to her, looking soft and pleased. "Hey," Astrid murmured, and carefully turned toward her. "That was amazing." For a second, she hesitated, but what the hell; Astrid reached out to tuck a strand of blond hair behind Etta's ear, let her fingers linger on Etta's cheek.
Etta leaned into her touch, almost imperceptibly. "Yeah." Her face was so young, but her eyes -- "Astrid, this is war. I can't promise anything."
Astrid swallowed, but she knew, she knew. "It's enough that you'd want to."
"I would."
"Etta, come here." Astrid said it in one long breath she didn't know she was holding, until Etta nodded and closed her eyes and curled forward into Astrid's body.
Notes:elfin, I tried to cram not just one but three of your desired prompts in there; bit hit-or-miss, I fear. I have however already plotted -- so to speak -- a slightly kinky follow-up...
Rating: Explicit
Length: approx. 3,000 words
Timeline: Early Season Five
Relationships: Astrid Farnsworth/Etta Bishop
Tags: fix-it, alternate take, what-if, hurt/comfort
Summary: One person's choices. Many other persons' lives.
Notes: At the end.
I.
Too much like the capsicum the Observers so loved to a human stomach, air was burning in her lungs. Astrid kept running.
'Help Etta. Save Walter. Be careful.' Peter's words and previous instructions to her had been precise -- as precise as Olivia's gunshots covering them all. Up, up, up the stairs went Olivia and Peter; they would double back later.
O ye'll tak' the high road and I'll tak the low road. Astrid was on the one far away from gunfire. The Loyalist patterns of sweeping the warehouse had been methodical so far. Behind her, Astrid could hear the echo of shots being fired. In front of her, it was quiet.
Darkened steel beams and crates. Another piece of wall. Dirt floor covered in debris. Astrid slowed her step and breathed (treading softly and carrying a small stick). Had Walter and Etta even made it this far? She had been out of the field. But this afternoon's raid of the lab had left it Ambered and had left Astrid without her usual playground. The unusual one -- well. Only so much cataloguing one could do. Astrid's hand slid down to the test tube strapped to her belt.
Earlier this afternoon, she could have sat and waited: for the Observers and their Loyalist pets not to return, for Olivia and Peter, Etta and Walter to do so. Astrid would have; she had already crawled into their air-vent hideaway. But Walter's words were playing on an endless loop in her head. Time to create a few Fringe events of our own.
The sound of splintering glass, of something heavy colliding with a surface broke through. A human voice abruptly strangled. Astrid's mouth went dry and her step even softer -- out of fear rather than stealth.
Ducking down behind a wall, glancing around its corner, her heart jumped -- twice, as if for having found Etta as well as Windmark himself. Etta was struggling, pinned to a beam by Windmark, her eyes ablaze and her feet kicking. But on a creature incapable of pain and without any leverage, even someone as strong and combat-practiced as Etta could do little damage. These inhuman hands were wrapped too tightly around her throat. Another two, three minutes, and she would lose consciousness. No time to get Olivia, or Peter.
So Astrid kept sneaking closer, hid only by the shadows. Not close enough to quite understand what Windmark was saying to Etta; his back was to Astrid -- something about a necklace? For whom?
A gust of wind came from the broken window behind Etta. Astrid bit her lip. If he were here, Walter would now calculate the direction of his velocity and acceleration vectors.
"I would like to know." Windmark's hiss was sheathed in silk.
Astrid wasn't Walter. But she was a former College Softball Champion.
Her fingers loosened the strap, weighed the tube, and threw it. She watched the perfect arc it described, its near-perfect spin, until the glass filled with blue powder was about to hit Windmark's left shoulder-blade.
About to.
Pale hands closed around the tube before it exploded, the motion as ever having been too fast for human eyes. But Windmark had spun around to face her. Astrid noted, distantly, that his eyes were wide open. She noted one more thing: The same pale hands were no longer closed around Etta's throat.
"Nice try, Miss Farnsworth. I assume this is some explosive Dr. Bishop concocted in his --"
Windmark broke off. His mouth opened as wide as the deep gash in his throat, but no sound came out. Astrid usually likened the Observers to reptiles in her head, but here and now he reminded her of nothing so much as a stuck pig. Behind his dark shape, Etta swayed. A knife fell from her fingers, clanging on the cement and spattering it the same deep red as the floor at Windmark's feet. He and Etta both slid to the ground, unlikely mirrors.
Only for Windmark, Astrid was there to catch not him but the vial in his hands before it could tumble to the ground and break. She put it away again and removed the gun from the inside of his suit jacket, her fingers turning red and sticky, sharp metallic scent all around them. Observers had many superhuman abilities, but the one to survive without 1.5 gallons of blood was not among them.
Astrid carefully inhaled through her mouth. She had ample practice at avoiding nausea. And it was high time to take care of who was important here. Etta was breathing, labored as it was, and blinked sluggishly up at Astrid. She didn't seem to have hit her head, though; no blood anywhere but her hands.
"Shh. It's gonna be alright, Etta. He's gone; we'll be fine." Astrid wiped her hands on her pants as best she could and tried to lift Etta up. The woman was surprisingly heavy, her muscles solid under the leather jacket. The motion let it slide back, reveal the soft curves underneath her top, right below the marks dotting her throat. Astrid swallowed and looked back at Etta's face.
"Windmark's really dead?" Etta's eyes were bluer than ever against the redness of her face. Astrid could see tiny dark-red spots around her eyes, blood underneath the uppermost layer of skin where Etta's capillaries had burst under pressure. She was still breathtakingly beautiful.
Astrid nodded.
The line of Etta's jaw smoothed out. "Good riddance." Astrid wouldn't have recognized the look on her face if she hadn't seen it many times on Olivia, either Olivia: a quiet but fierce satisfaction. "Thank you, Astrid, for the distraction." It came out with a residual heat that was not directed at Astrid. It was also genuinely grateful.
Astrid wasn't so sure she deserved it. "I'm glad it worked. It could have killed you -- I could have killed you, Etta." Astrid had counted on several factors: the Observers' weakness when it came to predicting random events; a gun was conventional whereas a biological molotov cocktail might be beyond their assumptions. She had counted on the wind blowing from the other side so the powder would hit only Windmark.
Maybe she had also counted on Etta.
Who was still staring at her, almost pensively, shifting into a sitting position and not taking her eyes off Astrid crouched between her and Windmark's body. "But you didn't. We all take risks every single day, for everybody else and with everybody else in the line of fire."
"I know we do."
"Because we have to." Etta reached up, in what had probably been a move to pet Astrid's shoulder, but her hand was clumsy in ways it hadn't been three minutes ago, and her hand touched the side of Astrid's neck, sliding down her clavicle and across her right breast. Etta's fingers on her skin were cool to the touch, rougher than Astrid had absolutely not imagined, no. She gasped, and Etta's eyes widened. "Astrid, I'm sor --"
"It's okay." Astrid felt her cheeks burn, but she took hold of Etta's hand -- the clean one, not the one also stained with blood -- and squeezed it gently. She meant to be reassuring, nothing else, but the expression on Etta's face showed pretty much the opposite. Was that a blush on her face? "I -- I know you just wanted to comfort me."
The flash of a grin appeared on Etta's face, and it was disconcerting because Astrid could see Peter written all over it. But it was also making her heart beat faster, because Etta didn't look at her like she looked at her parents, like she looked at anybody else at all. She was also slow, so slow to extricate her hand from Astrid's. "One thing I wanted to do to you, yes."
Astrid's mouth opened, then closed. She had never been a gambling woman. She had also never been instrumental in killing an Observer without firepower. Astrid held on to Etta's fingers and laced them with hers, watching Etta's face very carefully. She managed to say, "There could be more. Things. After we've made it out of here, all of us."
The corners of Etta's mouth lifted. The color was still high on her cheekbones. She leaned in so Astrid also had to. "Astrid --"
"Etta!" Olivia, her voice cascading through the warehouse, appeared in the doorway across, and Etta and Astrid tumbled apart like guilty schoolchildren. It made Astrid want to laugh and cry at once. Peter appeared behind her, eyes wide and worried. "Are you okay?" Walter's toddled up after them, his eyes asking the same question.
"Yes, we are." Etta turned toward her parents and her grandparent, scanning them before, visibly relieved, smiling luminously. "Unlike Windmark." Her face twisted when she glanced down at his prone form. "Thanks to Astrid, he won't be responsible for any more lives ruined."
Before getting up, she turned her head to Astrid, and her smile returned -- different, muted, but full of promise. "Let's get out of here."
II.
On the ride back, Olivia and Peter hovered around Etta. Astrid didn't pretend to understand being a parent almost losing a daughter; even so she thought of the bruises dotting the pale skin of Etta's neck as a constant reminder of the danger she'd been in and a reminder to seize the day.
Or the night, as the case might be. Outside, darkness was falling, the lights of the New York skyline hiding its raggedness. It was ridiculous to finally let herself fantasize about Etta. And yet. Astrid pressed her face against the cool surface of the car window, drops of condensation prickling her lips in ways that were not unpleasant.
Safely back in Etta's apartment, they hung the windows, lit a few candles, and kicked the jury-rigged heater on. Upon hearing their story of killing Windmark and earning them all a brief reprieve, Walter fussed over Astrid for a good ten minutes: praise for her idea of weaponizing Project Jellyfish and criticism of -- absolutely everything else about it, actually. Astrid nodded and looked proud and chagrined where appropriate, and finally procured a bag of ancient Reed's Ginger Candy courtesy of that hidden storage of his. Walter snagged them from her hands with visible delight and a brief elaboration on how he and Belly had created the Neverending Ginger Chew in '67 but had to abandon it after their test subjects were, well, subject to violent diarrhea two days after consumption of those unbreakable saccharose chain molecules.
Thus managing to escape, Astrid almost stumbled into Olivia and Peter in the doorframe to the kitchen. They were standing close together tonight, heads bent over the map tacked haphazardly to the kitchen wall, their hands brushing gently.
III.
When Astrid excused herself for the night, she did not turn toward her own space. For once, the cold water of the shower seemed like a good idea.
Etta was waiting in her room, lounging on the bed in an almost knee-length New York Liberty t-shirt that must've been navy blue once upon a time. Astrid allowed herself to stare at Etta's legs for just a moment -- naked, her leather pants and jacket as well boots were lined up by and hung up over a chair with the precision of the soldier she was, had to be. Her hair was darker, still wet from washing, and her hands clean: the shade of bright pink that only came from vigorous scrubbing with a nail brush.
"Thought you wouldn't come," Etta said, smile sly, and she would have sounded easy-going and confident to Astrid even half a day ago.
Now she made sure the door behind her was locked, before sitting down on the bed next to Etta, its creak thankfully not very loud. The candle on the nightstand flickered, then stilled.
"How could I not," Astrid whispered, and this time she could lean in without interruption. Etta's lips were chapped, and Astrid didn't think she imagined the tang of iron on her tongue, but she also didn't mind, didn't mind at all. They had to come up for air eventually, and Astrid got the words out. "You said you wanted me."
"Well." Etta shivered against Astrid's lips. Just below the right corner of her mouth, two freckles were beckoning. They tasted just like Etta's skin elsewhere, but Astrid loved the way Etta's eyes slid closed when she kissed them. "Close enough." She felt Etta's hands tugging at the knot that held Astrid's bathrobe together. "Only not. Take it off. Let me see you." Etta was good at the helm. She'd been at it for a long time.
Astrid's heart skipped a beat. "Of course." She let the fabric slide down her shoulders.
"Oh," Etta said, and she said it as if there wasn't quite enough air in the room. There was less blue in her eyes now, pupils blown, and her lower lip was moist where Astrid had licked it.
If Astrid couldn't quite hide her smile there -- well, that was all right. Etta sat up and let her fingers on Astrid's bare skin wander the same path they had this afternoon in an abandoned warehouse: along both side of Astrid's neck, down below her chin, grazing her breasts. Cupping them gently. Astrid let out a sound at Etta's thumb's stroking over her nipples, and immediately felt Etta's mouth on hers, silencing her. "Hush," Etta murmured, but she was smiling against Astrid's lips. "I've missed this."
"I know." Astrid strongly suspected her dry streak was a multiple of Etta's months or even years; it had been, if not felt like, decades since Kim, whom Astrid left, and then left in the past.
"I've seen the way you looked at me when you thought no one would notice," Etta's teeth closed around Astrid's earlobe. "I liked it; I snuck as many car rides and mission positions next to you as I could. But -- so much at stake, and there was no time, no opportunity."
Astrid gasped, arched forward. "Etta, there never is. Unless you make it." She tugged at Etta's tee, upward, and while her hands on Astrid's nipples were sorely missed, this was worth it: Etta, naked save for a pair of proper white undies, all long limbs and skin that was smooth where it wasn't marked with the signs and scars of her battles. Astrid couldn't off the top of her head remember being with a white girl that had freckles, a light dusting of them.
"You're right." Etta bit her lip; that was Astrid's job now, though, and she took over, only gentler, licking into Etta's mouth and running her fingers through Etta's hair, its texture unfamiliar, so fine under her fingers. "Astrid, fuck; please, touch me." She took Astrid's hand, slid it down the flat, muscled plane of her stomach -- girl needs to eat more -- and into her panties. Astrid thought about taking them off, but then beneath the fabric she touched Etta where she was hot and wet, gently sliding her hand back to the swollen nub. Etta made the highest, most helpless sound Astrid had ever heard her make, so Astrid gave up that plan. "Astrid --"
"I got you, baby. Lie down." Etta did, in her eyes, settling onto her back. Astrid smiled and slid two fingers inside Etta, curling them in tune with her thumb circling across her clit. Etta whimpered, her hips lifting off the bed. Astrid slid up Etta's body, sweat-slicked skin on skin, and kissed the bruises on Etta's neck that were turning color like leaves in fall already, her tongue stroking across each of them, rewarded by soft moans from Etta. Good. Astrid found it hard to breathe. She pressed her legs together and added a third finger, moving faster and faster inside her until Etta was bucking against her in an almost continuous motion, riding Astrid's fingers and panting her name up to the point where Astrid could feel her clench hard around her: ripples running through Etta's body before all these locked-up muscles turned loose and languid.
There were beads of sweat, like tiny pearls, on Etta's upper lip, and Astrid kissed them off. She took off Etta's soaked panties, licked her fingers, too. Salt, heat, and the girl who lived. Etta smiled up at her, carded her fingers through Astrid's curls. Her cheeks were flushed and her hair mussed. "You're so gorgeous, Astrid," Etta whispered. "And brave in the field; I wish we'd met earlier. Let me take care of you now."
With a dexterity that shouldn't have surprised Astrid but did, Etta flipped them, a grin dimpling the corner of her mouth. Astrid let out a little oomph! that made Etta grin wider, and shush her again. Strong, elegant fingers spread her legs, and Etta settled between them, found the sweet spot at the back of Astrid knees with her mouth. Astrid trembled, stuffed her fist in her mouth for a moment at Etta's kisses.
"Hook your legs around my shoulders," Etta said softly from her position at the foot of the bed, and Astrid pulled herself together just barely to comply. She tried not to writhe, when Etta's hands spread her open, when Etta used her mouth to delicately flick the soft hood on her clit. Etta went slow, then faster, lips and tongue and only the keen threat of teeth, and Astrid tried not to grind into her face, but it was, it was -- Astrid felt the back of her neck prickle, sensations rolling outwards down into her legs and curling her toes, and then her back was arching, and she was there, there, there.
She must have dozed off for a moment, because when she blinked her eyes open, she was under the covers, not above them, and Etta on her side next to her, looking soft and pleased. "Hey," Astrid murmured, and carefully turned toward her. "That was amazing." For a second, she hesitated, but what the hell; Astrid reached out to tuck a strand of blond hair behind Etta's ear, let her fingers linger on Etta's cheek.
Etta leaned into her touch, almost imperceptibly. "Yeah." Her face was so young, but her eyes -- "Astrid, this is war. I can't promise anything."
Astrid swallowed, but she knew, she knew. "It's enough that you'd want to."
"I would."
"Etta, come here." Astrid said it in one long breath she didn't know she was holding, until Etta nodded and closed her eyes and curled forward into Astrid's body.
Notes:
elfin, I tried to cram not just one but three of your desired prompts in there; bit hit-or-miss, I fear. I have however already plotted -- so to speak -- a slightly kinky follow-up...
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Date: 2012-12-28 04:09 pm (UTC)Thank you, Anon! I love you. (Although I'm pretty sure you already know that. :D)
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Date: 2012-12-28 06:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-12-28 06:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-12-28 06:55 pm (UTC)Thank you. *g*
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Date: 2012-12-29 04:23 am (UTC)Upon hearing their story of killing Windmark and earning them all a brief reprieve, Walter fussed over Astrid for a good ten minutes: praise for her idea of weaponizing Project Jellyfish and criticism of -- absolutely everything else about it, actually.
This made me laugh, because I think I'm with Walter, being within the blast radius of Project Jellyfish would make me twitchy too. But also, I love the earlier hint in the story that Astrid *was* relying on Etta, that she'd calculated the chances of Windmark catching it, that she knew if given the slightest opportunity, Etta wouldn't hesitate. This story is lovely all round, and scorching hot to boot *g*.
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Date: 2012-12-29 06:19 am (UTC)And yes, this was an iffy plan -- I was assuming the powder preserved did note have any explosive added to it, so with the wind, the idea was that only Windmark would breathe it in...
So thrilled you liked it!
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Date: 2012-12-29 02:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-12-29 05:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-12-29 06:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-12-30 01:15 am (UTC)Thank you so much in any case! :)
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Date: 2012-12-31 05:39 pm (UTC)for a stupid plot-device by those. Sorry I get carried away sometimes. Hot porn, too. I like Etta/Astrid.no subject
Date: 2013-01-03 02:33 am (UTC)(And I so agree with your assessment. ;)
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Date: 2013-01-03 02:17 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-01-03 02:32 am (UTC)*g* Thank you!
So glad! I'm not an action writer at heart, so this is especially good to hear.
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Date: 2013-01-05 03:46 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-01-05 03:57 am (UTC)