Originally written for the Porn Battle over at LiveJournal.
///
The hood is hot and the air is cool and she should feel just a little shy, but all she feels is wondrously alive and all she feels is Ashley all over her.
/
"Let's have some fun, Spence… shake off those Paula Carlin blues!"
And she was all for it, because her mother just kept coming down hard and wouldn't let up – Bible eyes at every turn and frequently fearing hell on the doorstep – and Spencer Carlin hasn't told a single soul her darkest secret: she'd gladly perish in hell if it meant getting to be with Ashley Davies.
So, they dance at Grey's and Ashley sips from her flask and they touch in increasingly indecent ways – guys eye them up, girls either slink away or try to get in on the action – but Spencer doesn't mind.
Because those brown eyes are only on Spencer and everyone else knows it.
/
The hood is hot and the air is cool and she should feel just a little shameful, but all she feels is liberated and all she feels is Ashley deep within in her.
/
She does not want to be drunk, not for this night, as they race up the winding roads and to that familiar overlook – lights of the city in the distance.
She wants to be sober for this night. She wants to brand it against her eyelids so that she can see it for the rest of her life. She wants to feel it like others feel an ache in their bones.
"Having a good time?"
Ashley is whispering and stroking her hand and they might be talking about so many things, but Spencer doesn't want to talk anymore.
They've talked enough. They are always talking and defending and sneaking around.
"Yes."
/
The hood is hot and the air is cool and she should feel just a little exposed, but all she feels is the rolling sensation of desire and all she feels is Ashley. Ashley, Ashley, Ashley… in time with her thumping heart, which beats staccato rhythms to match the thrusts of the four fingers buried inside of her…
Ashley, Ashley, Ashley, over and over like a lyric the L.A. girl wrote and is now singing with the twirling of her tongue in Spencer's mouth and the song is unlike anything Spencer has ever heard.
It is a roar in her ears. It is a guttural groan in the darkness. It is the sound of nails into skin and begging and wetness upon metal, upon expensive paint.
/
Ashley is the shy one and Spencer must coax out the beast.
But once she is out, you can't put her back in that insecure cage and there is more than one heart out on a sleeve, sure, but it is about bodies and needs and wanting tonight… and they both know it.
Kissing leads to touching and touching leads to groping and groping leads to panting and panting leads to tugging and tugging leads to reckless movements.
And the hood is hot against Spencer's bare back and the air is cool against the nipples that Ashley finds difficult to leave behind and Spencer should feel a little… but she feels a lot.
She feels it all.
/
Soft and sweet things murmured into her neck and Spencer didn't expect that and it builds a tender home in her soul and they'll talk about it all soon enough… soon enough it'll be her parents and their friends and judgment and dates and a million other things.
But right now, all that matters is that the car has cooled down and the air is getting muggy again and Spencer grabs Ashley's hand.
"Spence?"
"I was taught to say thank you, Ash."
"…What?"
"Get in the back seat and I'll explain it to you."
/
::END::