This one was inspired when Nicky returned from Max. I wasn't satisfied with what we got, not completely. Although I loved Lorna not wanting to leave Nicky's side and always be touching her in some way. :) This is what I imagined happened a little before the scene in the common room. Or instead of :) It's called "Kisses." Let me know what you think! :)
Nicky's kisses were a myriad of things for her. They were colorful, too. Like an aura. Lorna remembered Yoga Jones spurring on about that, when she was having a particularly rough and day yesterday and she'd cried herself to voice lessness and Nicky wasn't there because she was in that god-awful place where all the god-awful criminals were kept, and a god-awful criminal, Nicky Nichols was not.
Yoga Jones had told her that Nicky's aura was a soft and warm color, and that people would see that and leave her be. At the time it was a comfort and at least somewhat stopped the nightmares from happening – she'd awake in a cold sweat during the night, panting hard with tears both dried and fresh plaguing her cheeks.
She'd dream that Nicky had been beaten to death, or raped, or was back on the pills and overdosed – sometimes the overdose was an accident, sometimes it wasn't, because Max was hell on their version of Earth, and this time, her love for Lorna couldn't keep her head above water.
Sometimes, these dreams made her sick, sick with a yearning for death, suicidal ideated because for all she knew, the one person whom she trusted to keep her sane was gone forever and she was spiralling.
She stopped caring about her looks, her beauty a flaky reminder of the woman she'd been with Nicky by her side: she had been vain, piddling, sure, she would admit that, but she had also been strong and tall, happy. She let her hair go awry and could barely summon the strength to brush her teeth in the morning. It was a disaster. She was a disaster.
Lorna hadn't seen herself as naive. But of course, she was. She shared naivety with a child, sometimes uncomprehending, mostly blissful and ignorant. She took things for granted, assuming that they would always be there. She'd taken Nicky for granted, taken her love without so much as a thank you, because there would be time for thanks and reciprocation later, because she would always be there. Until she wasn't.
Until a guard whom had clearly been abused by his mother as a child, roughly grabbed Nicky's arm with enough force to leave bruises on that beautiful skin, and hauled her off to Max.
There had been so much crying and her declaration of love, no matter its depth, was ill-timed, yelled across a hallway, the ascendancy of heavy sobs garbling and drowning out her words. "I love you too!"
It felt like it had been weeks, although maybe, for all she knew, it had been just days or hours, even, since that moment. Since the second her life changed, and her world spun on its axis. And clearly, she couldn't handle it. She couldn't handle a lot of things, but she really, really, could not handle this thing in particular.
Just like her aura, Nicky's kisses were warm, and to her, they were pink and orange, muddled together like the colors of a sunset, and one kiss could change everything. It had, before.
A kiss to her skin, to any part of her, right now, would allow her to cope with this, but longing for it was futile because the giver of her release (in more ways than one) was gone, and who knew when she'd be back, if she'd be back at all.
There was no way of knowing if she was okay, as she'd told and asked everyone who said she would be or was. "How do you know that?" "You don't know that." They were just trying to help, she knew that, and wanted so badly to appreciate it, but all she wanted was Nicky. And she couldn't have her. Not right now. And possibly never again.
The salty, dampness of her tears were permanent, staining her skin once healthy, even as its pallor marred the exoticism of her nationality. She'd once been pretty, if she did say so herself, but not anymore. She didn't feel as though she had one ounce of beauty in her, least of all in the way Nicky possessed it.
Nicky's kisses weren't only warm, but they were soft, sometimes tentative, like a whisper against her lips. They were demure, honest, and when her mouth made contact, Lorna could feel her inward vulnerability, the stuff she tried so hard to keep hidden behind that bold, ex-druggie, I-don't-give-a-fuck-do-whatever-the-fuck-you-want exterior.
That feeling was beautiful. It was like a picture of the woman Nicky aspired to be before the drugs – a woman with expressive, humorful eyes, an absence of dark bruising underneath and the veiny redness of a high, thick dark hair sans bleach job after bleach job, and perfect teeth, as white as her own.
The one thing that remained the same in the picture of this other woman of another life, was her smile. It's impish and coquettish but genuine and sweet at the same time. And it was Lorna's favorite feature. Nicky may be beautiful in her own recovered-hapless-drug-addict way, but that smile was gorgeous. Sometimes, all Lorna had to do was picture that smile, and it was over for her.
Right now, picturing that smile made her dissolve into a pile of new tears, the sobs so violent they wracked her shoulders.
"Hey, hey, that's enough." said a voice from above her. "What happened to that pretty, made-up face of yours, punkin?"
She knew that voice. But…could it really be?
Lorna looked up and came face to face with the one, the only, Nicky Freakin' Nichols.
"Oh my gosh," she gasped and before Nicky could even think about moving even an inch, Lorna was on her feet with her arms wrapped so tightly around her, Nicky struggled to catch her breath.
"You're here!" she squealed, burying her face into her neck, wanting to breathe nothing but the scent of her skin, sweat-ridden and cold. She wanted to warm it again, so she kissed it over and over, trying to block out the images of the suffering Nicky must have endured down there.
She laughed against her clavicle, hearing Nicky's faint but audible just the same, moan of approval, of the pleasure she'd been deprived of, gotten from another's touch. Her touch.
"Babe," she hissed through her teeth as Lorna returned to the hallow of her throat, feeling the vibrations of her voice as she spoke. "You gotta stop it."
"No," Lorna whispered back, kissing her cheeks, then her forehead. "Not a chance, Nichols."
Nicky laughed. "Well then can you at least give a little to my lips? They're dyin' here, slugger."
Slugger. Hearing the nickname made her heart jump, made her breath catch and her skin hot. It felt like forever since that name has come out of her mouth, and it was hearing it that made her realize how much she'd missed it.
The first time she called her that was years ago, back when their relations started, and they'd become more familiar, daring to kiss and do other things with a newfound ferocity, trusting now, of each other.
Lorna had left a hickey so dark and so large, directly on Nicky's pulse point and she thought that when she saw it, Nicky would want her dead, because there would be questions. Instead, when she saw Lorna the next day in the hallway, she took her aside, pointed to the bruise and leaned in to whisper in her ear, nipping at it ever so hard.
She couldn't bite back a reaction and Nicky chuckled as she felt the shape on her skin. It was almost risen. Before Lorna could apologize, Nicky beat her to the punch. "Don't worry about it." Her voice was quiet, sibilant against her eardrum. Sexy. "You really did a number on me, didn't ya, slugger?"
Now, Lorna couldn't help it. Her mouth practically attacked Nicky's and she bit and sucked and they made out like teenagers for a few minutes, with an "I missed you so damn much" in between every breath.
They were laying on her bunk before she knew it, their limbs one of the same persons. Lorna had her face buried in her chest and Nicky was rubbing her back in soothing circles, tangling her fingers through her hair. She was telling Nicky about the dreams she'd been having, and Nicky sighed emphatically. "It's okay, kid," she mumbled, kissing the top of her head. "Momma's got you now."
The way she said this wasn't perverse, in fact it was the furthest thing from it, and she took comfort in it.
"Yeah…Nicks?" she asked, and Nicky smiled down at her, encouragingly. The look in her eyes made Lorna believe she already knew what she was just now finding the courage to say. In case she didn't hear it the last time. "I love you."
Lorna's favorite smile lit up Nicky's tired face. "Oh yeah?"
Snuggling further into her chest and closing her eyes, Lorna sighed. "Mhm." She was asleep within seconds, Nicky's breathing, a touch heavier than she remembered it being, a soothing cadence to her dreamless slumber.
For a couple hours, she could forget that she was married. It wasn't cheating if it was only kissing. And that's all they did, despite Nicky's pleas at first. Just a few kisses.
Those kisses were her kryptonite, but with a husband at home, she couldn't think like that, could she?