Together (Wonder Woman, Diana/Io: scars)
Jul. 24th, 2008 01:18 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
seriousficTitle: Together
Fandom: DC Comics
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairings: Diana/Io
Word Count: 1,221
Summary: Written for the DCU femslash porn battle. Wonder Woman, Diana/Io: scars. Diana and Io are the last of the Amazons, but that doesn’t mean they’re alone.
Io didn’t leave herself time for regrets. Her friends were gone; she accepted that. Themyscira was no more; she could live with that. But the one regret she did harbor, the one she hated herself for feeling even beyond mourning, was for Diana. There was a time when those long bare legs and muscular arms grew from a daringly star-spangled costume, sexual, sensual, invincible, the color that was eventually stolen from the drab armor she now wore from head to toe. Those limbs had been smooth as a beach pounded by the tide. Io didn’t touch them then. She didn’t see the way Diana looked, bare back flowing like quicksilver to encompass her slim waist, her full hips, the graceful triangle of her crotch and those golden legs that could provoke only envy or lust in anyone who saw them.
All she saw now, with Diana stripped to the waist in front of her, was the pain. The wounds she was sewing up over Diana’s high breasts, the ones she’d already bandaged along Diana’s toned stomach. The crusted blood, the bruises, the unforgivable rise of her healed collarbone, the red of skin grafts like a spotty paint job. She was mortal now, they both were, had to be, sitting across from each other on plastic chairs that hurt to be sat on too long, not at all like the restful thrones of their homeland. But far worse than the new certainty of dying was the spark of hurt in Diana’s eyes when Io touched her. She was more than mortal. She was fragile now.
The ointment helped. It was no purple healing ray, but it helped. Io rubbed it over the bruises where some bastard had kicked her Diana while she was down. Man’s World.
“You don’t have to do this,” Io said, frantic from this latest atrocity of flesh. “Gandhi. Gandhi never stopped a bank robbery, and he saved people.”
“Batman,” Diana said, with a reassuring smile. “Batman is mortal and he saves people.”
“But you were so beautiful once.” It was a childish complaint, but it was all Io could think of. She’d never been one for words, but she’d trade in everything she loved about the forge to know the words to talk Diana out of this.
Diana held up her sprained wrist, the icepack tied to it melting. “I got this saving a child. No higher than your knee. That is beautiful.”
“No.” Io turned Diana’s hand over and kissed the one finger without a bruised knuckle, her thumb. “You’re beautiful. And when you die, there’ll be no one to mark the Amazons.”
“There’ll be you.”
Io kissed the thumb again, desperately, more holding it against her lips than transmitting affection. “I’m not enough.” She bit down on the tip of Diana’s thumb.
Diana stopped the hand Io had on Diana’s stomach, the hand that had long since massaged the ointment deep into her flesh. “I won’t leave you alone. Unloved.” She brought Io’s hand up, over the hurt spots and onto her breast. “Here.”
“I cannot…”
Diana’s hand kept Io’s face steady, stopping her from looking away. The thumb traced Io’s chapped lips. “We are the last of the Amazons. If we can’t love, then we are lost.”
“There are others,” Io persisted. “More worthy.”
“None could be more worthy.” Still feeling Io’s limp clamminess on her breast, Diana slid Io’s hand down below her belt. The skin there was mercifully free of scars and Io’s breath hitched at the feel of it, the unexplored expanse of skin just waiting for her. And so sensitive, so open to the touch of her callused fingers. Diana gasped her way into a smile, lips closed to conceal her chipped tooth, as Io went lower. Sweat broke out on Io’s forehead when she felt the lips of Diana’s sex, soft, inviting, untouched by the ravages that had taken the rest of her body.
“Yes,” Diana breathed, leaning forward to rest her chin on Io’s shoulder. “You know, you know…”
Io found Diana’s clit. Still fighting the urge to pull her hand back and apologize, she pinched it between her fingers and slowly tugged on it, letting it slip between her fingers and then recapturing it for another squeeze. Diana’s whimper was so soft that even if they hadn’t been alone, only Io was close enough to hear it.
“That,” Diana whispered. “Yes, that. Io, I have to… can I touch you?”
Io barely controlled her stammer. “Y-yes. Please.”
“Okay.” Diana froze as a wave of pleasure passed through her body. “I’m going to undress you now.”
Io couldn’t stop wondering what Diana had to be nervous about, Diana with the perfect body, Diana to whom she was a reflection in a funhouse mirror. Distorted. Ugly. Not with scars, but with hips that didn’t fit her and an ass that was practically that of a small boy’s and with skin that was as rough as a reptile’s.
“I’ve waited so long.” Diana was slow in tugging off Io’s clothes, painstaking, as if she didn’t want to miss a thing. It was more passionate than the frenzied embraces Io had known. More passionate by far than the rush to be unclothed and together was the way Diana savored her, approaching her like she too valuable to let a single second of togetherness go to waste. It made Io embarrassed to have her boxers tugged off, with her folds wet and inflamed and having to let go of Diana’s clit even for an instance…
“No, no.”
Diana stopped, leaving Io’s panties on her hips. They were pulled down low enough to show the curve of her buttocks and pubis, the fuzzy patch of hair that she would’ve shaved had she known her world was going to change.
“Can I?” Diana asked, stepping out of her own Kevlar pants. The belt buckle clattered on the floor. She took Io’s face in her hands. Got close enough that Io could feel her breath trickle across her lips. It was sweet. Narcotic. “Can I?”
“Just…” Stop asking, stop treating me like I don’t want this, start being Diana. “Anything. Anything.”
Diana kissed her and Io embraced her, feeling their breasts rub together. The electric contact of their nipples. And the deep scars on Diana’s back, but not caring. Their lips were together and Diana’s hand was moving across her back, following the proud line of her spine, dipping down to squeeze her ass. “So beautiful,” Diana murmured as Io, lost in her, kissed the side of Diana’s cheek and the shell of her ear. “Thank you.”
“What do you have to thank me for?” Io asked incredulously.
“For still loving me. With this:” Diana pushed aside the wisp of hair that fell across her face, covering the scar that crossed her eyebrow. “And… with my mission.”
“I love your mission. I hate what it does to you, but…” Io pushed down her panties and the last clinging sleeve of her outer garments. She stood before Diana, naked and unashamed. “Blacksmiths forge. Warriors fight.”
Diana took Io’s hand and squeezed it lovingly before pulling it down between her legs. “Not always. And not forever.” Io shuddered in tune with Diana as her fingers rediscovered her core, their merging so beautiful in the light. “This is Themyscira.”
Fandom: DC Comics
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairings: Diana/Io
Word Count: 1,221
Summary: Written for the DCU femslash porn battle. Wonder Woman, Diana/Io: scars. Diana and Io are the last of the Amazons, but that doesn’t mean they’re alone.
Io didn’t leave herself time for regrets. Her friends were gone; she accepted that. Themyscira was no more; she could live with that. But the one regret she did harbor, the one she hated herself for feeling even beyond mourning, was for Diana. There was a time when those long bare legs and muscular arms grew from a daringly star-spangled costume, sexual, sensual, invincible, the color that was eventually stolen from the drab armor she now wore from head to toe. Those limbs had been smooth as a beach pounded by the tide. Io didn’t touch them then. She didn’t see the way Diana looked, bare back flowing like quicksilver to encompass her slim waist, her full hips, the graceful triangle of her crotch and those golden legs that could provoke only envy or lust in anyone who saw them.
All she saw now, with Diana stripped to the waist in front of her, was the pain. The wounds she was sewing up over Diana’s high breasts, the ones she’d already bandaged along Diana’s toned stomach. The crusted blood, the bruises, the unforgivable rise of her healed collarbone, the red of skin grafts like a spotty paint job. She was mortal now, they both were, had to be, sitting across from each other on plastic chairs that hurt to be sat on too long, not at all like the restful thrones of their homeland. But far worse than the new certainty of dying was the spark of hurt in Diana’s eyes when Io touched her. She was more than mortal. She was fragile now.
The ointment helped. It was no purple healing ray, but it helped. Io rubbed it over the bruises where some bastard had kicked her Diana while she was down. Man’s World.
“You don’t have to do this,” Io said, frantic from this latest atrocity of flesh. “Gandhi. Gandhi never stopped a bank robbery, and he saved people.”
“Batman,” Diana said, with a reassuring smile. “Batman is mortal and he saves people.”
“But you were so beautiful once.” It was a childish complaint, but it was all Io could think of. She’d never been one for words, but she’d trade in everything she loved about the forge to know the words to talk Diana out of this.
Diana held up her sprained wrist, the icepack tied to it melting. “I got this saving a child. No higher than your knee. That is beautiful.”
“No.” Io turned Diana’s hand over and kissed the one finger without a bruised knuckle, her thumb. “You’re beautiful. And when you die, there’ll be no one to mark the Amazons.”
“There’ll be you.”
Io kissed the thumb again, desperately, more holding it against her lips than transmitting affection. “I’m not enough.” She bit down on the tip of Diana’s thumb.
Diana stopped the hand Io had on Diana’s stomach, the hand that had long since massaged the ointment deep into her flesh. “I won’t leave you alone. Unloved.” She brought Io’s hand up, over the hurt spots and onto her breast. “Here.”
“I cannot…”
Diana’s hand kept Io’s face steady, stopping her from looking away. The thumb traced Io’s chapped lips. “We are the last of the Amazons. If we can’t love, then we are lost.”
“There are others,” Io persisted. “More worthy.”
“None could be more worthy.” Still feeling Io’s limp clamminess on her breast, Diana slid Io’s hand down below her belt. The skin there was mercifully free of scars and Io’s breath hitched at the feel of it, the unexplored expanse of skin just waiting for her. And so sensitive, so open to the touch of her callused fingers. Diana gasped her way into a smile, lips closed to conceal her chipped tooth, as Io went lower. Sweat broke out on Io’s forehead when she felt the lips of Diana’s sex, soft, inviting, untouched by the ravages that had taken the rest of her body.
“Yes,” Diana breathed, leaning forward to rest her chin on Io’s shoulder. “You know, you know…”
Io found Diana’s clit. Still fighting the urge to pull her hand back and apologize, she pinched it between her fingers and slowly tugged on it, letting it slip between her fingers and then recapturing it for another squeeze. Diana’s whimper was so soft that even if they hadn’t been alone, only Io was close enough to hear it.
“That,” Diana whispered. “Yes, that. Io, I have to… can I touch you?”
Io barely controlled her stammer. “Y-yes. Please.”
“Okay.” Diana froze as a wave of pleasure passed through her body. “I’m going to undress you now.”
Io couldn’t stop wondering what Diana had to be nervous about, Diana with the perfect body, Diana to whom she was a reflection in a funhouse mirror. Distorted. Ugly. Not with scars, but with hips that didn’t fit her and an ass that was practically that of a small boy’s and with skin that was as rough as a reptile’s.
“I’ve waited so long.” Diana was slow in tugging off Io’s clothes, painstaking, as if she didn’t want to miss a thing. It was more passionate than the frenzied embraces Io had known. More passionate by far than the rush to be unclothed and together was the way Diana savored her, approaching her like she too valuable to let a single second of togetherness go to waste. It made Io embarrassed to have her boxers tugged off, with her folds wet and inflamed and having to let go of Diana’s clit even for an instance…
“No, no.”
Diana stopped, leaving Io’s panties on her hips. They were pulled down low enough to show the curve of her buttocks and pubis, the fuzzy patch of hair that she would’ve shaved had she known her world was going to change.
“Can I?” Diana asked, stepping out of her own Kevlar pants. The belt buckle clattered on the floor. She took Io’s face in her hands. Got close enough that Io could feel her breath trickle across her lips. It was sweet. Narcotic. “Can I?”
“Just…” Stop asking, stop treating me like I don’t want this, start being Diana. “Anything. Anything.”
Diana kissed her and Io embraced her, feeling their breasts rub together. The electric contact of their nipples. And the deep scars on Diana’s back, but not caring. Their lips were together and Diana’s hand was moving across her back, following the proud line of her spine, dipping down to squeeze her ass. “So beautiful,” Diana murmured as Io, lost in her, kissed the side of Diana’s cheek and the shell of her ear. “Thank you.”
“What do you have to thank me for?” Io asked incredulously.
“For still loving me. With this:” Diana pushed aside the wisp of hair that fell across her face, covering the scar that crossed her eyebrow. “And… with my mission.”
“I love your mission. I hate what it does to you, but…” Io pushed down her panties and the last clinging sleeve of her outer garments. She stood before Diana, naked and unashamed. “Blacksmiths forge. Warriors fight.”
Diana took Io’s hand and squeezed it lovingly before pulling it down between her legs. “Not always. And not forever.” Io shuddered in tune with Diana as her fingers rediscovered her core, their merging so beautiful in the light. “This is Themyscira.”
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