sunday six (...ish)

[felinejumper]

sunday monday six seven, really.

[insert at least an hour of waffling about admitting, publically, that I have, one time, Done A Creative Work, Maybe]

Evelyn’s thumbs pressing at the joint of her shoulder, rubbing circles into the skin. Evelyn bending to lap at the hard bone of Rachel’s shoulder.

Rachel recovers her body to feel her clumsy arms scraping at Evelyn, her hands burrowing under Evelyn’s soft rubbed lilac silk. Clumsily Rachel breathes, whines when Evelyn’s hands move busy to her front. Rachel’s uneasy breath in her chest into Evelyn’s hands, stays undone. Rachel feels the cup of someone else's hands, how she fits. Soft and heavy and round.

I am still not technically accomplished for the narrative arc I want, but I am enjoying the fact that I keep trying to edit and then get too hot and heavy to assess narrative flow. It's also, you know, inconvenient, but. Wow. Do I like girls or what.

Comments

[breathedout]

Well this is lovely and delicious.

[aerialiste]

"Rachel feels the cup of someone else's hands, how she fits."

*swoon*