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seriousficTitle: Mutual Masturbation
Rating: R
Characters/Pairings: Donna Troy, Koriand'r
Word Count: 1,001
Summary: Donna thinks about her roommate, and other things that don't quite touch.
Donna was first drawn to Kory out of her mentor’s philosophy. A charity case; stranger in a strange land, needed a friend. But Kory took well to Earth. Tamaranians were a lot closer to humans than Dick would believe. They were ruled by their passions, but so was humanity. And they controlled their passions too. They were so Amazon in their control, so open and trusting, yet so battle-hardened. Or at least Kory was. She was royal, an epitome, a distillation. Pure. Perfect. Beautiful.
Titan Tower was new, untrustworthy. They paired up, two to a room, just in case it was a trick. Gar bunked with Vic, of course, and Dick with Wally (to Wally’s never-ending grousing), and Raven assured them that she would be fine on her own.
The first time Donna walked in on Kory masturbating was a misnomer. Donna never left the room. In the middle of the night, a few minutes after they’d gone to bed, Kory started touching herself. She wasn’t loud about it, but she wasn’t quiet either. Her breath hitched, once so soothing, now deepening to a feline purr. Donna heard. At first she thought it was a dream, a nightmare perhaps. She went to comfort her new friend, but when she pulled back the sheets she saw Kory’s hands at cleavage and crotch, driving herself hotter, harder, fuller. Kory didn’t stop with Donna’s eyes on her. She just smiled at Donna, in greeting, in invitation… in friendship, mostly.
It was an invitation Donna didn’t take up. This wasn’t one of Gar’s blue movies, after all. Blushing ferociously, she sputtered something awkward and backed out of the room, leaving Kory to her climax. The orgasmic scream, even muted through the door, chased her. Still in her nightgown, Donna went to the kitchen, got a warm glass of milk, chatted with Dick as he worked late on a case, then fell asleep on the couch. In the morning, Kory apologized for upsetting her and made it up to her by fixing breakfast, even though it was Donna’s turn.
Donna countered, apologizing for getting upset. She was an Amazon, after all, and not given to prudishness. She shouldn’t be ashamed of sexuality, even when it was that open. And Kory was very open. In the coming weeks, they showered together, exercised together, talked together. They never made love together, which would come to be one of Donna’s great regrets, but they talked of love often enough.
Actually, Kory talked, Donna listened. Kory couldn’t shut up about riding the Dick Grayson roller coaster. Was he happy, was he sad, did he love her, could he not stand her? Donna helped her ride out the highs and lows, only dimly wishing it was her that Kory talked about with such ardor. She had Terry, and that was… enough.
But while they still roomed together, which they did even after the Tower proved to be the work of Vic’s father and as safe as a playpen, Kory would masturbate and whisper Dick’s name into the still air and Donna would almost convince herself that she didn’t want Kory to call out her name. But she would never be able to convince herself that it wasn’t Kory’s supple body she thought of when she touched herself, Kory’s high breasts, bone white teeth and shiny hair, jade eyes, and corded muscles, growing even more beautiful as she strained her way to orgasm.
And Kory, for her part, always seemed to masturbate on top of the covers, spotlighted in the pallid moonlight spilling through the window. Her dusky golden tan was tainted black, with her body highlighted in silver, like the color had drained out of her. All but her eyes, which smoldered green and fixed on Donna as they came, always together, always wordlessly. Without words, it was just love instead of an invocation. And love was never a bad thing, even when aimless, lost, abandoned.
Funny; Donna was horny all the time, but without Kory she just didn’t feel like coming. Only when Kory had started could Donna join in, her voice so frail next to Kory’s glorious cries. Kory gave voice to passions larger than herself; Donna barely parted her lips.
Donna didn’t even remember what it was like to masturbate without Kory in the room, breathing the same air. Was the smell different?; with Kory it was a musk, strong, animal, lustful and carnal and not-quite-forbidden. Maybe it felt different, even though they weren’t touching. Was she feeling as Kory felt, what Kory felt, their pleasure merging like two pools of mercury running together?
Maybe she was wetter, because when she used to masturbate she never had to change the bedsheets in the morning, before anyone else was awake to see her dump them down the laundry chute. Kory was up even earlier, up with the rising sun. Donna did her sheets too, hardly ever acknowledging that the sheets were a way of being close to Kory, something to touch that had touched Kory. And she did so long to touch Kory, something more intimate than a hug or a handshake or a sparring move. The way Dick touched her, when he touched her, if he touched her. For her trouble, Kory laughed and patted Donna’s butt in thanks.
She never made love to Dick in the bed that Donna made.
And as the years passed and the boyfriends dropped away and they went further apart, separated by lightyears, Donna still felt a presence when she touched herself, one of love and pride and fierce, fierce hunger. And Kory felt love and support and comfort as she panted out her afterglow, both tired and exhilarated, cunt fucked so hard it was sore to the touch. And each night apart they promised themselves that the next time they saw each other, they would confess to the other’s constant shadow in their mind.
And on that day, if it ever came, they would only need one bed to lie in.
Rating: R
Characters/Pairings: Donna Troy, Koriand'r
Word Count: 1,001
Summary: Donna thinks about her roommate, and other things that don't quite touch.
Donna was first drawn to Kory out of her mentor’s philosophy. A charity case; stranger in a strange land, needed a friend. But Kory took well to Earth. Tamaranians were a lot closer to humans than Dick would believe. They were ruled by their passions, but so was humanity. And they controlled their passions too. They were so Amazon in their control, so open and trusting, yet so battle-hardened. Or at least Kory was. She was royal, an epitome, a distillation. Pure. Perfect. Beautiful.
Titan Tower was new, untrustworthy. They paired up, two to a room, just in case it was a trick. Gar bunked with Vic, of course, and Dick with Wally (to Wally’s never-ending grousing), and Raven assured them that she would be fine on her own.
The first time Donna walked in on Kory masturbating was a misnomer. Donna never left the room. In the middle of the night, a few minutes after they’d gone to bed, Kory started touching herself. She wasn’t loud about it, but she wasn’t quiet either. Her breath hitched, once so soothing, now deepening to a feline purr. Donna heard. At first she thought it was a dream, a nightmare perhaps. She went to comfort her new friend, but when she pulled back the sheets she saw Kory’s hands at cleavage and crotch, driving herself hotter, harder, fuller. Kory didn’t stop with Donna’s eyes on her. She just smiled at Donna, in greeting, in invitation… in friendship, mostly.
It was an invitation Donna didn’t take up. This wasn’t one of Gar’s blue movies, after all. Blushing ferociously, she sputtered something awkward and backed out of the room, leaving Kory to her climax. The orgasmic scream, even muted through the door, chased her. Still in her nightgown, Donna went to the kitchen, got a warm glass of milk, chatted with Dick as he worked late on a case, then fell asleep on the couch. In the morning, Kory apologized for upsetting her and made it up to her by fixing breakfast, even though it was Donna’s turn.
Donna countered, apologizing for getting upset. She was an Amazon, after all, and not given to prudishness. She shouldn’t be ashamed of sexuality, even when it was that open. And Kory was very open. In the coming weeks, they showered together, exercised together, talked together. They never made love together, which would come to be one of Donna’s great regrets, but they talked of love often enough.
Actually, Kory talked, Donna listened. Kory couldn’t shut up about riding the Dick Grayson roller coaster. Was he happy, was he sad, did he love her, could he not stand her? Donna helped her ride out the highs and lows, only dimly wishing it was her that Kory talked about with such ardor. She had Terry, and that was… enough.
But while they still roomed together, which they did even after the Tower proved to be the work of Vic’s father and as safe as a playpen, Kory would masturbate and whisper Dick’s name into the still air and Donna would almost convince herself that she didn’t want Kory to call out her name. But she would never be able to convince herself that it wasn’t Kory’s supple body she thought of when she touched herself, Kory’s high breasts, bone white teeth and shiny hair, jade eyes, and corded muscles, growing even more beautiful as she strained her way to orgasm.
And Kory, for her part, always seemed to masturbate on top of the covers, spotlighted in the pallid moonlight spilling through the window. Her dusky golden tan was tainted black, with her body highlighted in silver, like the color had drained out of her. All but her eyes, which smoldered green and fixed on Donna as they came, always together, always wordlessly. Without words, it was just love instead of an invocation. And love was never a bad thing, even when aimless, lost, abandoned.
Funny; Donna was horny all the time, but without Kory she just didn’t feel like coming. Only when Kory had started could Donna join in, her voice so frail next to Kory’s glorious cries. Kory gave voice to passions larger than herself; Donna barely parted her lips.
Donna didn’t even remember what it was like to masturbate without Kory in the room, breathing the same air. Was the smell different?; with Kory it was a musk, strong, animal, lustful and carnal and not-quite-forbidden. Maybe it felt different, even though they weren’t touching. Was she feeling as Kory felt, what Kory felt, their pleasure merging like two pools of mercury running together?
Maybe she was wetter, because when she used to masturbate she never had to change the bedsheets in the morning, before anyone else was awake to see her dump them down the laundry chute. Kory was up even earlier, up with the rising sun. Donna did her sheets too, hardly ever acknowledging that the sheets were a way of being close to Kory, something to touch that had touched Kory. And she did so long to touch Kory, something more intimate than a hug or a handshake or a sparring move. The way Dick touched her, when he touched her, if he touched her. For her trouble, Kory laughed and patted Donna’s butt in thanks.
She never made love to Dick in the bed that Donna made.
And as the years passed and the boyfriends dropped away and they went further apart, separated by lightyears, Donna still felt a presence when she touched herself, one of love and pride and fierce, fierce hunger. And Kory felt love and support and comfort as she panted out her afterglow, both tired and exhilarated, cunt fucked so hard it was sore to the touch. And each night apart they promised themselves that the next time they saw each other, they would confess to the other’s constant shadow in their mind.
And on that day, if it ever came, they would only need one bed to lie in.
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no subject
Date: 2008-01-21 10:10 pm (UTC)