Pairing: Roxie/Velma
Rating: R (M)
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Other: This is a birthday gift to Vikki Kelly. Happy birthday, hun! I loves you! ;)
And because she likes Velma and Roxie being lovey dovey and I dismissed the idea before I even tried it…so here it is...sorta…kinda…as lovey dovey as Roxie and Velma get…? Not really fluffy, though.
I realize it sort of shifts POV's, but it seems to work out all right. I think they both are a bit OOC as well…but…you'll have that.
Hee, it makes me giggle.
She heard the bed creak and felt the sudden absence of warmth against her shoulders. Roxie was still lost in a dazed oblivion somewhere between dreaming and sleep, to encompassed in her hypnotic state to bother to see if Velma had rolled over or left completely.
So she left it to her dreams to play tricks on her. She'd play games with herself, replaying the night over and over, each one more satisfying than the last. Not that the reality of it was lacking. She always had been the dreamer. And it had been Velma who had held both her dreams and reality.
It was the liquor bottle shattering on the bathroom tiles and Velma's profanities that diminished her dreams, chasing them to the depths of her thoughts until another spare moment. She'd tilt her head enough so that she could peer into the bathroom door, Velma's silhouette slipping in between the barely open door. She could hardly make out her figure, moving back and forth, cussing to herself, kicking the pieces into the corner, the only light seeping in from the bathroom.
From broken liquor glass to the cigarette butts littering the floor, it still came as a shock to her how it all started. She supposed it was the shows, where they had seen each other every night. Getting drunk together after each occasion would have its result in the end. There were no heartfelt confessions, only eyes glazed over in the dark corner of a speakeasy, lips still quivering. The alcohol mixing with the adrenaline already rushing through their veins, leaving them shaking without consciousness of their newfound indulgence. Feeling her hot breath on her neck, the residue and sweat collecting on her neck. Velma had always ran her fingers over Roxie's neck, brushing her hair out of the way before covering it with kisses and lip smacked bruises.
The mattress suddenly shifted under Velma's weight. She sat with her knees pulled tightly to her chest, lighting a cigarette with a match before reclining full length on the bed. She lie on her side, inhaling and exhaling the smoke rhythmically. Roxie remained still, drawn to the faint orange outline of Velma's lips gaping open slightly exhaling the smoke every few moments. Roxie inched herself over slowly, draping her thigh over the curve of Velma's hips, pulling the rest of her body close enough so that she left her breath hot on her neck.
They'd lie as such for short intervals, never lasting longer than a few seconds measured in cigarette puffs and sighs. Roxie had come to learn to appreciate these short-lived moments, lying together. Velma hated remaining still for any amount of time, even in her sleep she thrashed about.
Just as they had settled, Velma sat up, pulling her knees against her chest again, flicking her cigarette ashes into a glass of water on the nightstand. Roxie quickly pulled her leg back, and pushed herself up so that she sat next to her. It had always been this way, Velma waking in the middle of the night; never satisfied with the way her body had adjusted itself as she slept, though usually having to remove Roxie's arms from around her waist. Even then, as she sat up, she felt Roxie's head come to rest on her shoulder and her arm creep around her waist. There was part of her that succumbed to Roxie's obsession with her, she was always buying her things, going out of her way to be with her, touching her. Always touching her. She wasn't used to the constant contact, of someone always wanting to have their arms around her or fingers entwined. Charlie had rarely touched her in such a way, though she had convinced herself that he had been after either sex or her sister, and in the end he had both. She was always questioning the selfishness of it.
Even after the songs were sung and the dances were danced, she found herself eager to go to bed each night. Even if the constant touching had made her uncomfortable, it was the warmth that comforted her. Naked under thin bed sheets with the girl who she thought she'd kill before she fucked. Willingly.
Their first kiss, like fire. Who had leaned forward first? Who threw who against the dressing room door, tongue down the other's throat? Fingers creeping along thighs before snapping garters and removing them, leaving fingernail trails along legs. It all seemed so innocent, meaningless. Even when their dressing room escapades led to month long apartment stays, it still seemed careless and innocent.
Roxie had been kissing and sucking on her neck the whole while she was thinking. She'd put it to rest for now, it was decided as she threw the remaining cigarette butt into the glass. She sprawled out, staring at the ceiling, Roxie's lips against her jaw now. She took a deep breath before pulling herself on top of Roxie and returning the brutal kisses. Though the room was pitch black now that her cigarette was out, she knew where to touch her. They were both used to dim lights by now, hardly lit dressing room lights had been their rehearsals for what nightfall had in store. Where they didn't have to shroud the smell of sex with that of cigarettes and cheap liquor. Velma would murmur as she kissed and left teeth marks, a bit about Roxie returning to her own apartment and her husband, but it had always gone ignored, not because she hadn't heard her. She just chose not to deal with it. Roxie always had been one to live in the moment, never dwelling much on the past. And at that moment, it was Velma, manifesting her dreams and controlling her desires, a fire inside. Sweet desperation, yearning more. Each and every velvet touch, light as butterfly wings against her skin. Rouge kisses down her neck, chest, stomach and between her thighs. She'd return the favor when her body had stopped quivering or her voice went hoarse from screaming moans barely making time for a breath.
For the first time either of them could remember, their bodies were still entwined when the sun rose. Roxie batted her eyes open first, her eyelashes sweeping subtly against Velma's cheek. She pushed herself up and briefly ran her fingers along the crystalline sun streaks that ran across Velma's bare shoulders. It had been like a dream. All a big blur, smudged together like the lipstick covering her shoulder blades and neck.
They would lay together the rest of the morning, jazz notes and dance choreography replaying through their heads.
It wouldn't last forever. Nothing in Chicago ever did.