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Kira spoke to me in spurts for this one. I think because of the above title...
Title: Alone, Bumpy Ride
Author: Lorraine
Category: Original fiction, POV, fem slash
Rating: PG-13
Summary: The Narrator and Kira start to settle into their lives together, but things aren't awlays easy.
Alone: Bumpy Ride
When I awoke it was dark. I had somehow twisted myself inside Kira's sweetly scented sheets. She sat in a chair and watched me struggle for a few moments before she laughed and got up to help me.
"What have you done to yourself?" She joked.
"I appear to have trapped myself in your bed," I giggled, then sobered as an odd expression crossed her face.
"Willingly, I hope," her voice was soft, hesitant.
I wanted to tell her not to be daft, but the expression there stopped me. "Eagerly, Kira," I said fervently, "always that."
She preened, then slid in next to me. She wrapped her arms and legs around me and held me there as she kissed me possessively. Her lips grazed my temple, her hands urgently sought my flesh. Like a flash we were off again.
That's how it was in the beginning, uncertainty seemed to follow the moments of joy. Once we had settled things emotionally this wouldn't be the case, but until then we both needed reassurances. But the passion was always there, in a touch, a glance. The air fairly simmered with it when Kira and I were in a room together.
I made Kira's apartment my base of operations. I had clothes there and often went straight from her place to work. Soon, though, I started to feel the lack of home. After three weeks had passed it occurred to me that she had never once stepped foot in my house. I decided to remedy that by inviting her over for dinner and shocked a small moue of distaste from her. I was taken aback, not knowing what to think.
"What is it?" I asked.
"Your place is small," she said, looking somewhat uncomfortable.
"And you live in an apartment," I pointed out, "try again."
"Well," she said slowly, "your part of town is so dangerous."
"I live there," I gritted out.
"Yes."
"It's my house, mine and I want you to see it." I was angry, perhaps unreasonably so, but still, my side of town was simply poor, not dangerous. Or at least, not any more dangerous than any other place in the city. It wasn't trashy and I had never had a single bit of trouble there.
She backtracked, finally aware that she'd made a huge error and agreed to the dinner. I no longer wanted to have it, but I arranged a time, I had a point to make, as well as my pride. I could see that Kira was worried and upset that she'd me mad, but I didn't have it in me just then to kiss and stroke away the bad feelings. I'd been humiliated by the person I'd come to care for most.
I stayed in my own bed that night, still bristling with outrage. She called me several times, I took every one of her calls. I wasn't hurt and angry enough not to talk. She called about silly things; the weather, the cardinal in the backyard. By the fifth phone call she had me laughing as we watched Frasier together, over the phone.
But I didn't invite her over to stay and she didn't ask me to come back over to her apartment. When we finally hung up our receivers, peace had been made. However, we both still had a long night to face, thanks to both our senses of asinine pride. After that we never spent another night apart, when we were in the same town, until our separation.
I woke up the next morning, bleary eyed and regretful. I dragged myself out of bed and started making the house perfect for our dinner. I was excited and nervous. I fussed over the details like this was our first date, spent too much on the preparation of the meal and generally churned myself into a state of Martha Stewart-like orgasmic nirvana.
I was almost shaking by the time 8 O'clock rolled around. By 8:15, when the doorbell rang, I had butterflies the size of bald eagles in my stomach. I sucked in a deep breath and went to answer the door.
Title: Alone, Bumpy Ride
Author: Lorraine
Category: Original fiction, POV, fem slash
Rating: PG-13
Summary: The Narrator and Kira start to settle into their lives together, but things aren't awlays easy.
When I awoke it was dark. I had somehow twisted myself inside Kira's sweetly scented sheets. She sat in a chair and watched me struggle for a few moments before she laughed and got up to help me.
"What have you done to yourself?" She joked.
"I appear to have trapped myself in your bed," I giggled, then sobered as an odd expression crossed her face.
"Willingly, I hope," her voice was soft, hesitant.
I wanted to tell her not to be daft, but the expression there stopped me. "Eagerly, Kira," I said fervently, "always that."
She preened, then slid in next to me. She wrapped her arms and legs around me and held me there as she kissed me possessively. Her lips grazed my temple, her hands urgently sought my flesh. Like a flash we were off again.
That's how it was in the beginning, uncertainty seemed to follow the moments of joy. Once we had settled things emotionally this wouldn't be the case, but until then we both needed reassurances. But the passion was always there, in a touch, a glance. The air fairly simmered with it when Kira and I were in a room together.
I made Kira's apartment my base of operations. I had clothes there and often went straight from her place to work. Soon, though, I started to feel the lack of home. After three weeks had passed it occurred to me that she had never once stepped foot in my house. I decided to remedy that by inviting her over for dinner and shocked a small moue of distaste from her. I was taken aback, not knowing what to think.
"What is it?" I asked.
"Your place is small," she said, looking somewhat uncomfortable.
"And you live in an apartment," I pointed out, "try again."
"Well," she said slowly, "your part of town is so dangerous."
"I live there," I gritted out.
"Yes."
"It's my house, mine and I want you to see it." I was angry, perhaps unreasonably so, but still, my side of town was simply poor, not dangerous. Or at least, not any more dangerous than any other place in the city. It wasn't trashy and I had never had a single bit of trouble there.
She backtracked, finally aware that she'd made a huge error and agreed to the dinner. I no longer wanted to have it, but I arranged a time, I had a point to make, as well as my pride. I could see that Kira was worried and upset that she'd me mad, but I didn't have it in me just then to kiss and stroke away the bad feelings. I'd been humiliated by the person I'd come to care for most.
I stayed in my own bed that night, still bristling with outrage. She called me several times, I took every one of her calls. I wasn't hurt and angry enough not to talk. She called about silly things; the weather, the cardinal in the backyard. By the fifth phone call she had me laughing as we watched Frasier together, over the phone.
But I didn't invite her over to stay and she didn't ask me to come back over to her apartment. When we finally hung up our receivers, peace had been made. However, we both still had a long night to face, thanks to both our senses of asinine pride. After that we never spent another night apart, when we were in the same town, until our separation.
I woke up the next morning, bleary eyed and regretful. I dragged myself out of bed and started making the house perfect for our dinner. I was excited and nervous. I fussed over the details like this was our first date, spent too much on the preparation of the meal and generally churned myself into a state of Martha Stewart-like orgasmic nirvana.
I was almost shaking by the time 8 O'clock rolled around. By 8:15, when the doorbell rang, I had butterflies the size of bald eagles in my stomach. I sucked in a deep breath and went to answer the door.
