Summary: Nicky and Lorna try to work through some frustrations (set 5x07).
Author's Note: I got prompted this, and I wasn't sure how to go about it but I thought I'd give it a shot anyway. still not sure how I feel about it, but I hope you enjoy it. Feel free to leave thoughts. I have another fic I am working on in the meantime and I'll get on with making some more GIFs. Another shoutout to Aspen and Jenn on Twitter, you guys are great to talk to! And shoutout to cle1etecl on Reddit, I didn't want to message you since I'm probably bothersome, but if you're reading this, thank you for your feedback!
"Nicky –" Lorna muses with gritted teeth. Her hands flair for something to keep hold of, when they find their way to the blonde's fresh new cut, kind and smoothly kempt into ragged bun on top of her head. Her left hand smooths up Nicky's arms, fingers scrambling in both lust and frustration to locate a zipper somewhere on her back while the woman with her unspoken bitterness and rage growls into Lorna's neck – fingers pressed into her thighs.
Nicky had sat her on the countertop in one of paperwork-deserted areas of the pharmacy in the fumbling blur of the animalistic effect that had seemingly sprung them both. She bites down on her own tongue; figures it was definitely this tight, black dress clinging to the curves of her body she'd forgot she had. With Lorna it was…Who knows? Maybe the eye in her mind seeking out the brunette's irresistible urge of refusal to keep her hands to herself. She doesn't allow her hurt to dissolve in the lick of thirst to bring her lips closer to the creamy skin of Lorna's collarbone – not yet, anyway. A groan hisses from the brunette's teeth that Nicky captures by pressing her lips to hers; hard and sloppy, like she wants to make a painting with her tongue.
The blonde breaks the kiss, steps a foot away and breathes heavily through jumbled pants. "Would you keep it down?" She says. There's a bleakness that meets the grumble in her tone. "I don't exactly want us to be the centre of attention to some Peeping Tom."
They groggily shuffle further into the corner, stepping over the crumpled lab coat in a heap on the floor. Without exchanging words, Nicky takes the lead again – a role she's familiar to, and mews a hum when Lorna's palms latch onto her chest. She squeezes and pulls before retreating to locate the zipper again as Nicky cooly freezes, like the stone-cold expression embarked on her face.
"Still gonna say it's the hormones, huh?" Her lipstick-smeared cheeks flush from the wave of heat that travels to her pelvic muscles. The hurt she'd contained for the last few hours begin to bubble and unravel as her eyes lock onto a guilty looking Lorna – unable to glance her directly in the eye.
"I wouldn't say it just to hurt you, ho—"
Nicky cuts her off sharpish with another lustful kiss. Sick from the stabbing knife twisting a hole in her chest, she uses the sudden movement to mask the pain. She decides to cry to her soul later when all that's left is the self-shame and infuriating disappointment within the deep corners of her mind and conscience.
Another moan escapes from Lorna, still engulfed by the familiar tongue which explores her mouth. She's sure for a minute that the raging touching had ended and the two of them had melted into the white, hot heat of a lingering kiss that leaves her needing to readjust for a second. When the blonde next breaks away, Lorna almost chuckles at the red stain that had found its way both on her nose and rubbed all the way down her chin. Instead she's stilled and staring and, in some certain deep questioning by the complex equations of just how much that look – along with Nicky's doleful, yet sharp eyes, makes her want to tightly cross her legs in need of yearning friction.
Everything was so confusing. The tiny puzzle pieces in the corners of Lorna's mind alert another ministration of questioning that she'd have to answer for herself later. But then, at least Nicky would be equally confused by the calculations too? She considers while the fuzziness of her vision field fades and the sight of Nicky's devious, hazed complexion return to her senses. In this instant, she decides to decide that she is angry and that she should be equally allowed to ask all the questions. Because that's how their thing works, doesn't it? The push and pull had never been this bold – nor literal, in a sense, but she still bites down on her tongue, drawing blood as she continues to murmur at the feel of Nicky's breasts in her palms while remembering all the reasons and rights she has to be fuming right now.
"I thought you said you weren't gonna do this again?" She asks, pressing her lips to the centre of her chest, lavishing red imprints from the shape of her lips onto her skin.
"You're the one throwing yourself at me." Nicky hisses, lurching forward and clenching onto fistfuls of Lorna's khakis when the brunette's fingers leave her chest and roam to tug firmly at the roots on her head. Thin strands of hair slip down to tickle Nicky's shoulders and her heavy panting ghosts gushes of heat onto Lorna's neck while they lock eyes – an unsureness meeting their gaze.
"Could say the same thing about you." Lorna mumbles. Her hands move and stop to rest at Nicky's hips. There's no judge planted in her tone, however Nicky still translates the statement as personally demeaning.
"It – it's like you say one thing and mean the fucking other," she stammers, taking a sober, serious second to evaluate their frustrations amongst their current situation.
"I didn't mean to get pregnant, it just –"
Nicky intrudes harshly by stuttering gibberish, she tightly purses her lips in pursuit of 'you're not pregnant, I don't wanna hear it' and her mind screams the words so loud, she's certain there's steam bursting out from her ears.
"I just…" Lorna starts again, rephrasing her words from the beginning like the scratching of a needle from a record player. "I can't cheat on Vinnie. Not when he's real."
"You're cheating on him right now." Now that was harsh, and Nicky knows it. Much proved by the way Lorna pushes her back with a force, she's almost tripping over her Converse. The brunette shrivels up on the countertop; a small dog that's found guilty after creating a pigsty.
Now Nicky feels like shit. Gushed and in need of a serious cool-down session – until she decides to twist the knife a little more. Just a dinky bit closer to get the brunette to understand the throbbing pain that continues to rip a larger hole in her chest and damage her heartstrings. "So, what? I'm not real? I'm just your little pocket rocket to help you touchdown. Oh, wait, wait, wait, I get it." A strained, broad grin stretches her lips, "you've got all that guilt making you wanna throw-up – certainty not by the circumstance of some foetus you think you have swimming around in there, by the way, and this is you coping with it. Yeah." Her throat tightens to the sound of a snaky laugh she forced out. Maybe she's going too far, but she still has something to say. "No, I get it, princess. I scratched your back, you scratch mine, huh? You gotta make it up to someone, and you can't let your secrets spill to poor Vinnie, soo…I guess I was second best, right?" Her tone is dull, repetitive and bleak with exhaustion in the last part of her rant. "No surprise there."
Lorna's distraught, dispelled and looking like she's on a verge of bawling. Her eyes are blocked by the hand she has brought to her forehead in the name of shame. "That's not what I'm sa—" is all she manages, before her words quickly turn into blubs in a meltdown of silent, salty tears making Nicky want to cower into a corner in self-hate.
She wants to scoop her up, kiss away her sorrow and promise her it's okay.
You hurt me, and you don't love me, but that couldn't make me go away. I know you need me. For a backrub, a hug, maybe a fuck, until you're gone, and I'm gone and all we have left in ourselves is the words we fret to voice – well, you, anyway. And that's okay. Because at the end of all of this on our paths into different worlds, there's no hard feelings. Even if you're living your best possible life and I'm staring into the bottom of a glass of drink in an old apartment, with empty rooms and too many bedrooms for one person paid off by my pitying father. It's okay.
She steps forward to cup Lorna's face; getting her to pick up her chin and look at me, careful not to shed the tears that dare to drop of her own. The second she does, she takes her soft, trembling red lips and puts them to her own.
It's a small kiss; chaste, tender and a little sweet. So much so, that the blonde sort of wishes it lasted longer when Lorna drops her head, burying her it under Nicky's chin and snaking her hands back around Nicky's back. She looks into the blonde's eyes again, desperately quick to search for approval in which Nicky accepts; firm and short, with one small nod.
Her dress slides down to her ankles, quickly followed by her underwear and bra. Before deciding to move, Lorna has to pause for a moment, coming to a realisation.
"Oh, Nicky, I don't think…I've never seen you before. Not-not all of y—"
"Well, here's all of me." She mutters, suddenly feeling timid and awkward by the attention drawn to the pair of eyes roaming from the scar on her chest to her kneecaps, and finding herself wanting to say,
Take a long look at it all.
Her skin is grazed with invisible lashes, to the real, faded scares that mark her arm fossa from needlepoint, to the tiny engrain that imprints her right cheek. Deciding she'd had enough before they even began whatever they were going to do, she begins to redress, sensing her fury had tamed and that, really, both of them were too exhausted and beat-down to…Hate fuck?
Nicky almost splutters a laugh as the two words slip into her mind.
More like disappointment fuck, perhaps.
"Eh-hem." The voice of a familiar figure sounds, leaning by the doorframe with crossed arms and small but devilish smile on her lips. "I didn't want to interrupt but I thought it would be nice of me to mention that you kind of left this wide open." Alex chuckles, gesturing to the door.
"Jesus Christ, Vause!" Nicky finds herself yelling while finishing to slip her arms into her dress. "Thought I asked you earlier if anyone taught you to knock." Lorna scowls in Alex's direction, attempting to scoot herself further into the corner.
"I'm not staying to watch the fun." Alex says, defending herself through an apologetic smile. "Don't worry, kids, I'm going, I just wanted to let you know, and now I'll be on my way. I've got a super-hot frisky blonde, who also literally smells like a burnt Cheeto, waiting for me somewhere, so, I'll leave you guys to it." She winks, turning on her feet to walk in the opposite direction.
"No need." Nicky says, to Alex, but more so to herself. "I think we're done here anyway." She turns to give Lorna a weak, sympathetic smile and says "look, I'll see you later, kid," before the brunette can reply, she's following Alex's footsteps. Feeling like an ant crawling back into a lion's den.