[Writing something, trying to stay in the habit]

ooooo

Chapstick-waxy, but heavy and encompassing like the smell of rain; wind-worn and cracked like an old brick building, but reliably soft, reliably uncertain, reliably wanting for intimate sex and someone to talk to and not sure how to ask for them- Cait is reliable above all things, out of sheer necessity, because she's never been able to depend on anyone other than herself. She's a flash of teeth in a flurry of lips. She's sweat-slick pubic hair rutting up the underside of Allison's cock, she's naked, wet heat on Allison's skin. She moans. Fuck, Allison needs to hear that again.

She paints purple, watercolor splotches on the ruddy canvas of Cait's cheek, her jaw, her neck, takes a handful of ass and another of muscular thigh and rocks into her, mph, oh fuck, and Cait moans again, a beautiful, honest string of breath that settles lovesick in Allison's stomach.

"Fuck me, quit teasin', damn it," Cait demands, fistfuls of hair, mouthful of ear, "fuck me," leg hooked around her waist, a growl crawls arounds her canines.

"On the bed, then," Allison commands, a low undulation of vocals rolling against her gnashed teeth, Cait squeezes fists of hair and releases. She backs away a stride and sinks to the sheets with martial grace, propped on her elbows, legs widely spread, black of her eyes blown wider. Allison follows to the edge of the mattress and establishes a knee against Cait's inner thigh- steady pulse, hot and quick, soaks through Allison's denim jeans like water, Cait subtly rocks forward. Noses graze, burgundy drips in threads across Cait's freckles. "I want you from behind."

Cait wraps an arm around Allison's neck and drags her into a starving melee of lips and tongue, teeth against teeth, teeth against lips, then she falls away as suddenly as she'd risen. She swivels and Allison's hands smear across her body, over the taut tracings of her stomach and the thick power of her thighs, hooks under her hips when she lands on all fours and shuffles her closer to where she can touch her.

"Mmmm," trickles from Allison's lips like blood, scarlet and warm, pools in the dip of Cait's lower back and trickles down the long groove of her spine, digressing through the lines between muscle tones. There's a disparity between them, Cait and Allison: Cait is flirted with and ogled and the victim of many a dare to tame the 'Tough Irish Gal,' and Allison is overlooked. But Cait maintains that beauty is subjective, and that Allison is lovely and pretty in her own, hulking way, beautiful even. "God, I love fucking you." She kneels, face slightly above level with her hips.

"Then fuck me," Cait throws like a grenade, bounces once then fiery, auburn retort.

Allison slips two fingers into the slick grip of her pussy and makes friction with short thrusts, makes Cait mutter, "Fuck, oh, oh," thumb kissing the tight pucker of her butt, has her pushing back onto Allison's hand. Peers over the trembling shape of Cait's ass while she teethes marks into a cheek, palm smoothing the slopes of her waist, then she pulls her apart and mouth takes place of prodding thumb. Tongue dips, circles, rasps, and fingers curl down and in, and thumb from free hand strokes at clit, and, "Oh, that feels good, mm, fuck," and hum crescendos and breaks with a shout, and Cait comes, stiff, then into shudders. Bucking in her mouth, dripping down her forearm.

Allison climbs as she supplicates, kisses and teeth skirting her outer labia, her tailbone, the first visible rib- Allison understands the world through her senses, by taste, smell, and touch, through her nose and her hands and her lips, understands people in the same way, a warm hand on the shoulder over the pettiness of spoken congratulations, because words can lie but the feverish heat of a lover's body cannot, she's realized that Cait loves her in the same- she's molten to the touch like a handful of overcharged fusion cells, breathes like a woman drowning. "Feeling good?"

"Oh, yeah." Cait rolls a crick from her neck.

A hand placates Cait's teeth-marked rear, the other grinds knots into groaned thank-you's from her lower back. "Change positions?"

"Nah." She combs her sweaty hair behind her ear and looks back, upper body twists, muscles crease and gleam with the same knife-sculpted quality as the chiseled jade of her eyes. Slanted lips and cherry-red cheeks, she reaches and pulls the hand on her ass up along the curve of her side. Gaze like glowing gun barrels, kills Allison dead. "Still haven't fucked me yet."

Revs Allison like a Corvega, turnkey throb, rumbles to life. She hugs Cait's butt against her crotch for a moment of relief, firm warmth to satisfy the ache- it doesn't, but she has the discipline of an addict, chases every high no matter how small, better than experiencing the crushing throe of nothing- then sends her away with a slap on her ass. "Scoot."

Allison stands and snags a hair tie from the headboard's shelf and throws her head in a circle, collecting the flailing body of her hair in one hand while she watches the wiggle of Cait's hips. She assembles a ponytail around her fist at the back of her head and strips from her jeans, one leg then the other, and Cait grumbles hungrily because she's a sucker for sturdy thighs.

The bed sags with two persons' weight, complains as they shift to occupy the same square footage. Sidles up behind her, Allison's nearly a head taller so her knees straddle Cait's, hot anticipation where thighs touch thighs, campfire's ember compared to smoky bonfire where cock prods wet skin.

Hand steadies on Cait's lower back and then Allison glides right through her, hot knife through butter, deep as she can go, buttocks to hips, Cait moans slippery and smooth. Like jumping in an ice bath, shock of sudden sensation, Allison struggles for breath. "Baby, gimme a moment," Allison swallows her throat, "you're so tight."

Cait nods, but steals sweet crumbs of movement anyways. Allison counts bullets in a handgun magazine- she's heard of rattling off baseball players, but she can't do that with Cait, she isn't so mundane, no, she's the tang of gunpowder and the singe of brass and the tension of a trigger being pulled, so Allison will count bullets- removes them, lays them in an orderly line, and then thumbs each polished casing back between the canted nubs.

Nubs like the jut of Caits hips, just above is where Allison holds her as she starts to fuck her. Slow and slick like sizzling grease, then burns into quick and choking. Gentle grasp to bruising hold, flit of butterfly wings to wet slap of flesh. Cait sweats and shouts, Allison's grip slips. Reaffirms, then almost slips again when Allison smacks upside her ass three successive times. Growl shatters into whimper, Cait falls to elbows, forehead to sheets, spine arched upward.

"Good girl," Allison grits. One bullet, two bullets, three bullets, four…

Knife-point precision isn't Cait's style. Could die tomorrow, she doesn't want pleasure drip-fed, she wants to experience it all undiluted, the jet-high, pounding heartthrob and the breathy gunfire roaring in her ears, she wants to be overwhelmed, she wants all of it, needs all of it, at once. Allison reaches between Cait's legs and madly strums her clit, twists her other hand so she can hook two fingers into her ass. Slightly awkward, hips hitting her own wrist with every stroke, but she can pull Cait by the thigh with her clit-strumming wrist, she can still fuck her into pale, freckled pieces.

"Come for me, come on, baby, fucking come,"

Pulse of her cunt, cotton mouthed cry, tearing eardrums and bedsheets. Ripples around her cock, tight as a vice, as a fist trying to splinter a wooden bat, so fucking tight. Allison doesn't stop, she's almost there, almost there, almost there, and she's still almost there when Cait comes again with a mattress-muffled shout, and dammit, she can't fucking come, been too worried about Cait to let herself enjoy the sex.

Eventually does, though, after Cait has lost count. Comes in a rush of endorphins that carries her from rock bottom to warm sky. Feels like a glass pitcher, pours all of herself into Cait, transfer of soul, until Allison is empty and transparent. Fragile. Smudged with Cait's fingerprints.

Cait lays prone, bundle of covers her makeshift pillow, Allison her makeshift blanket. Two pairs of lungs, half a breath between them.

"Love you," Allison mumbles.

Lazy motions like speckles of dust through sunlight, silent as air, so much of so little. Shifting hips, cock stirs inside her, hasn't pulled out yet, not sure if they will by nightfall. Might just pass out like this, brimming with Allison, cradled by Cait.

Cait kisses the knuckle resting near her chin. "Love fuckin' you, too."

ooooo

[It's sorta kinda the same Allison in my other story, but not entirely. I'm experimenting with her character, seeing how I want to finalize her.]