A/N: Well since the group on dA decided that porn was not allowed, in a stunning display of "apparently trying to drive away the entire fandom", I posted this... here. Like the good little law-abiding Deviant I am. Anyway, this is some genderbent Hanna/Zombie. Perhaps reading Harold is Not a Boy's Name (a fic on my dA, same username) would help you first.
There were a lot of "sleepovers" that Harold hosted over the days; mostly anytime she wasn't so tired she just collapsed the minute they got home. They watched movies, both good and bad, most of them from questionably legal sources on her laptop. Sometimes there was dancing, sometimes nail painting, and a lot of times playing teenaged games like Truth or Dare. Harold's undead companion mostly had to choose Dare due to her lack of memories.
It was one such night, the lights dim, lying on the floor atop pillows galore and the lonely mattress, that Marguerite finally chose "Truth".
Harold screwed up her face in concentration, trying to think of a good question. Nothing bout her past, obviously, and the way Harold played, crazy questions were acceptable.
Finally she said, "Okay. I have a good one. Since you're currently, uh, dead, do you have any desire to have sex?"
Cassidy thought for a minute, her eyes illuminating the pillows before her. "Well, I've thought about it, I guess. And I'm not exactly… adverse to it. But I have never felt any great need to."
Harold nodded, satisfied. "Fair enough. Your turn."
"Truth or dare?"
"Truth."
"Same question. Except for the 'dead' part."
"Well duh. Of course I have a sex drive." Harold rolled her eyes. "That was a pointless question."
"Well it's the one I wanted," Titania said. "Your turn."
"Okay, truth or dare?"
"Dare." A pit dropped in Harold's stomach as she braced herself to spit out what she would say.
"Kiss me."
"Why?" She didn't sound surprised, but she hardly ever did anyway.
"B-Because. You should. I mean, I… it's the rules of the game; you Ihave/I to do it." Quietly, almost inaudibly, she added, "Please?"
"Alright." Elise sat up, moving closer to Harold. She caught her fingers on the redhead's jaw and leaned in, slowly pressing their lips together. Harold pushed back, her lips slightly parted. It lasted only a second or two, then Harold broke away.
She was bright red and staring at her hands and very much not at Jessica. A chill ran down her back as she realized how big a mistake she had made.
"Harold? Truth or dare?"
This was probably a big mistake (again), but she found herself saying, "Truth."
Zoie took in a sharp breath. "What are your feelings for me?"
"I really… I w-want you to, um, be…" Harold choked, gripping the flower print blanket with white knuckles. "I think you're beautiful," she said with a small voice.
"Is that all?" Marian said, pulling herself face-to-face with Harold. Their fingers intertwined and their noses bumped.
"No," Harold whispered, kissing her shortly. "You make my stomach to these flip-floppy somersaults." Raechel mouthed at Harold's jaw. "I can't breathe when you touch me." Harold pulled herself up parallel to Leanette. "When you say my name I just want to hear it in ecstasy." Joan slipped her hands under the hem of the long T-shirt Harold wore. "You follow me into my dreams." Harold's back arched, Nicole's hands cool on her thighs.
Harold's words were lost in her throat as Miranda pulled Harold's shirt off. All that was left was a pair of multicolored panties which, upon further inspection, were butterfly and dragonfly print. Francesca slipped her thumbs into the elastic.
Her fingers worked clumsily at the buttons on Lara's ever-present shirt, and she trembled at the sight of her simple, black bra against pale, greenish skin. She pulled her shirt off the other woman's bony shoulders and quickly worked on the bra clasp. In a few fumbling moments, she was all hands and tongue across the unfamiliar territory of Beth's chest. Scars, breasts, bones, and angles all unfamiliar to Harold.
Anne pulled Harold's panties off in a few moments of wriggling and quickly set to work on her own pants. Harold devoured every inch of skin she could find with the inexperienced but desperate tongue of a virgin.
They lie next to each other naked, Fiona's bony fingers travelling all over the supple skin and alarming scar that made Harold who she was. Harold smiled shyly and kissed her sweetly, pulling her down into an embrace covered on all sides by eclectic pillows and covered by a tent made of a floral blanket and chairs. Light softly filtered in from a single bulb, casting a pink and yellow glow over their figures.
Harold pulled her by the elbows over her, rubbing their bodies together sloppily, and wrapped her small hands on Chelsea's inner thighs. She smiled and ran a hand down Harold's belly and lower, Harold grinning and whispering something about "another tally" before her fingernails bit into Margot's upper arms.
"Is that okay?" she said, brows furrowing, as she very slowly rubbed the tips of her dry fingers to the wetness she found. Harold just nodded, gasping with surprise and not a small amount of pleasure. She pulled Calliope closer, kissing her as best she could with little gasps in between as Veronica worked harder. Harold tentatively slid a hand up her inner thigh, clumsily mimicking whatever-it-was that she was doing that was just that fucking good and where the hell had she learned to do that?
Carolina nuzzled her nose up against Harold's jaw and, with the look of a scientist about to press the button on the Large Hadron Collider, slid a finger inside her. Harold squeaked and screwed up her face and did everything in her power, seemingly, to be absolutely adorable. Margaret smiled slightly, kissing the base of her neck fervently.
Her kisses traveled lower, tracing the line of Harold's scarred chest, tongue flickering over each nipple in a counterpoint to the rhythm of her fingers. She lightly flickered over Harold's stomach, her eyelashes leaving butterfly kisses on her navel, as Harold's belly tensed and spasmed. She dipped her head in between Harold's legs. Without anything else to do, Harold gripped the blanket underneath her (blue and green stripes) as she felt Clarice's tongue begin on her.
"Wh-where did you learn how to do this?" Harold shakily managed, her back arching.
After a moment, Opal paused. "I think it's a memory from life, perhaps. A good one."
Harold couldn't argue with that. It was a pretty fucking fantastic memory.
Lilly returned to her ministrations, her chalky dry hands rubbing on the milky skin of Harold's thighs. At the huffing and mewling coming from her friend (although, at this point, it seemed like there was a lot more than "friend" going on between them), she brought her right hand back to its previous engagement, two fingers sliding slowly in and out.
Her hips jolting, Harold bit her tongue as the pace increased and outright screamed shortly when Pamela dragged her teeth carefully on her clit. She mouthed at the air, gasping half-formed words as she came, eyes scrunched shut and seeing stars. It lasted a few too-short moments until she felt herself returning back to herself, only to find Naomi pulling herself over her, kissing her soundly on the lips. She tasted musty and salty, a thrilling mixture of her and Harold.
"That was fucking amazing," Harold breathed, sitting up slightly. After a moment, she pulled herself up parallel to her zombie friend, then on top of her, kissing her, trying to communicate all the gratefulness and love and lust and excitement she felt.
Harold was not as exacting as Amber, favoring the fervent, clumsy ardor she used in her everyday life. Her hands were everywhere: splayed across breasts, running up inner thighs, interlaced in Meredith's. She made a point of kissing her everywhere she could think of, moving slowly down, coveting the sighs she got from her usually stoic roommate.
She carefully tried to copy what Belinda had been doing, licking and pushing and sucking, her nose buried in her wiry hair. Ophelia was completely dry, to nobody's surprise, soft, almost powdery skin rubbing on Harold's chin. She knotted a hand in Harold's red hair, moaning ever so softly.
When she came, it was silent, an arch of the back and a stuttering gasp.
Harold grinned, quite pleased with herself (honestly, she was still in a state of shock from the sheer weight of everything going so perfectly). She pulled herself up to lie alongside Maribelle, kissing her on the lips softly.
"Best game of Truth or Dare ever," she murmured and quickly fell asleep against her lover's chest.