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katrin.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fellowshippers2004-03-09 10:42 pm
katrin.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2004-03-09 10:42 pm
(no subject)
Untitled
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
katrin
Pairing: MO/LT
Rating: R
It was spring, finally; all warm and green and breezy, with a clear and grey-blue sky. Miranda had been feeling cabin-fever-y for weeks now, and took her notebook and spectacles out to the park. She wasn't the only person celebrating the end of winter. The paths were strewn with young women pushing strollers, and teenage boys showing off on skateboards. She sat on a bench, only a little cold on her backside through her flimsy print skirt.
"Is anyone sitting here?" came a breathy female voice.
Miranda looked up, prepared to be annoyed. Stopped with words in her throat.
The speaker was tall, all black except for creamy skin -- blue-black hair, black lace skirt, loose black sweater, heavy black boots. Black leather jewelry, too: cuffs around both wrists, a collar and several loose thongs tied round her neck. She looked a cross between a goth and a bohemian, and also much too young for Miranda.
"Go ahead," Miranda said.
Miranda has her pressed on her back in the chill new grass, black hair flowing over the bright green, sweater up around her neck. Miranda's mouth and hands are full of soft white breasts, hard pink nipples. Her knee is working at the lace skirt, pushing it closer to the round hips. Miranda's clothes steam away, and there are hands all over her --
"Excuse me?"
-- body, hitting every one of her sweet spots --
"Excuse me?"
"Hrm?" Miranda said.
"You stopped writing," the girl told her. "Am I inhibiting you? I'm sorry."
"No, that's fine," Miranda said.
Author:
katrinPairing: MO/LT
Rating: R
It was spring, finally; all warm and green and breezy, with a clear and grey-blue sky. Miranda had been feeling cabin-fever-y for weeks now, and took her notebook and spectacles out to the park. She wasn't the only person celebrating the end of winter. The paths were strewn with young women pushing strollers, and teenage boys showing off on skateboards. She sat on a bench, only a little cold on her backside through her flimsy print skirt.
"Is anyone sitting here?" came a breathy female voice.
Miranda looked up, prepared to be annoyed. Stopped with words in her throat.
The speaker was tall, all black except for creamy skin -- blue-black hair, black lace skirt, loose black sweater, heavy black boots. Black leather jewelry, too: cuffs around both wrists, a collar and several loose thongs tied round her neck. She looked a cross between a goth and a bohemian, and also much too young for Miranda.
"Go ahead," Miranda said.
Miranda has her pressed on her back in the chill new grass, black hair flowing over the bright green, sweater up around her neck. Miranda's mouth and hands are full of soft white breasts, hard pink nipples. Her knee is working at the lace skirt, pushing it closer to the round hips. Miranda's clothes steam away, and there are hands all over her --
"Excuse me?"
-- body, hitting every one of her sweet spots --
"Excuse me?"
"Hrm?" Miranda said.
"You stopped writing," the girl told her. "Am I inhibiting you? I'm sorry."
"No, that's fine," Miranda said.
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