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Entry tags:
rpf, Katee/Debbie Gibson, pick-up artist
disclaimer: not mine. Really not mine.
Fandom: ...RPF.
Pairing: Katee Sackhof/Deborah Gibson
Rating: er. Mature? R? There are girls kissing and sex and bad language.
Notes: I wasn't joking about wanting to make this a prompt at the Fslash today porn battle (which is now underway, follow ze link). I was not, however, fast enough to get them posted. So instead, I wrote fic using all of the prompts as, ah, breaks.
pick-up artist
by ALC Punk!
sly
Katee meets her in a bar--it's the sort of meeting where she knows she should recognize the woman sitting next to her, laughing at her stupid as fuck jokes. But she doesn't. She only gets the sense that she should, and so it's a little amusing when Ms. "call me Deb" Gibson finally shakes her hand.
"You're cute," says Deb, leaning across Katee to grab a handful of peanuts. "So, what's a kid like you--"
"Not a kid," Katee objects, knowing that's the stupidest thing she's said in at least a day. She laughs, trying to take back the automatic defense--she's sick of being the youngest, after all. "But, you were flattering my ego?"
"Aren't you a little young for an ego?"
The teasing note is sly, and Katee almost takes exception to it. She pretends to be upset, grabbing for her beer (fifth or sixth, by now, but it doesn't matter, it's like water, anyway). When Deb leans across her for more peanuts, Katee's hand brushes against the side of her breast.
friction
Deb tastes like salt and beer, which is fine with Katee (she isn't sure she could taste anything else at this point, anyway). When her hands skim under Katee's top (the one that Grace made her buy and she's never worn it because it always looks wrong in some way), it's like an electric-shock skating along her nerves.
"My mom used to play you to put me to sleep when I was a kid--" and Katee thinks that was a stupid thing to say, like it might break the moment. It's true, though.
(more true than Deb's fingers sliding between her thighs, but that hasn't happened yet--except in Katee's imagination, which is the one thing that always gets her in trouble, along with her big fucking mouth--she needs to learn to control that, better)
A breathless laugh, and Deb kisses her cheek, "You're sweet."
"Nah." Katee catches Deb's mouth again, moving close up against her, wanting to grind and thinking it might be too soon for that (for any of this).
new york is a wonderful town
It's one of those things she likes most about big cities. You can run into literally anyone. Even in back alleys behind theatres. (and she doesn't know why they came here, but maybe it's part of Deb's fantasy or something, not that she cares to ask right now, because she's too busy doing other things--)
"This is supposed to be Broadway," Deb says, and she's almost laughing, like she knows something Katee doesn't (and maybe she does, but Katee's distracted by her neck and the way she tastes of theatre-paint and sweat and the former can't be good for her to lick, but she doesn't care).
"Isn't it?" asks Katee, breaking away to kiss Deb's mouth (never Debbie, please. And Deborah's too formal when they're doing this).
Deborah's hands grab for her waist, and she kisses her back.
dirt
There's grit on her skin, thanks to Deborah's hands and fingers--Katee doesn't want to think about what was on the alley wall as she arches back (is still on the alley wall), feeling Deb's (now cleancleanclean) fingers drive further into her.
"Shit--yes--"
"Dirty mouth."
Stop me, she thinks, but doesn't say, because Deb's hand twists and her mouth nips, and Katee is coming in an alley in fucking New York.
drag
They find a dingy bathroom and Katee washes her hands and face while Deb looks on, almost amused. "You shirt's untucked."
Pulling at it, Katee tucks it haphazardly back in, then shrugs. "Could be worse." She reaches out and grabs Deb's wrist, shifting to back her into the counter.
This time, the kisses are almost perfunctory, and Katee lets her go a moment later. "You've got lipstick on your collar."
A grin dazzles her, and Deb moves to eye the red smear that also covers a bit of her neck. "I'll think of it as a badge of honor." Or something else, but Katee's not really paying her any attention anymore. Her head aches and her body is buzzing, and she needs something to do with her hands (not sex again, that would be a waste of time).
cigarette
The taste of the filter is almost enough to make Katee gag, and she misses those damned cigars Starbuck smokes--if only because they smell better, though she's never been able to explain that to anyone (and she gave them up to keep kids from smoking, anyway, which doesn't explain the shitty cigarette in her hands now--)
"You going to be all night out here?"
Deb's looking bored, now. Like she's had Katee and now she's done and over with it. And Katee thinks maybe that's possible. Or maybe not. "And what if I am?"
"I was hoping for another round," Deborah whispers, and she's trying for husky, but even now her voice just isn't that deep (and Katee thinks of Michael and shoves him back in a box before she can consider his voice in this sort of setting), and it doesn't do much for Katee.
Leaning over, Katee kisses her, holding the cigarette away. It's perfunctory. "I've got to get back. Early morning press thingie for--" Katee sucks on the cigarette and then drops it, grinding it under her heel. "That thing--" she adds, her tone vague.
shaken
Katee wakes in the morning when the hotel alarm blares, and she throws the pillow at it. Her mind is fuzzy and her mouth tastes like shit.
Press junket, she thinks.
She's halfway through her morning routine when she runs her fingers over the bite mark Deb left on her hip, and she starts a little in surprise. Her fingers graze her skin, and she realizes that she's buzzing the way she does after sex--
It hadn't been just a dream. (mouth against hers, tongue tasting of beer amd salt and, god, yes, there--)
"Fuck," she whispers, "I had Debbie Gibson last night. Fuck. My mom will never believe me." (not that she'd ever tell her mother something like that, though the temptation is totally there).
-f-
Fandom: ...RPF.
Pairing: Katee Sackhof/Deborah Gibson
Rating: er. Mature? R? There are girls kissing and sex and bad language.
Notes: I wasn't joking about wanting to make this a prompt at the Fslash today porn battle (which is now underway, follow ze link). I was not, however, fast enough to get them posted. So instead, I wrote fic using all of the prompts as, ah, breaks.
pick-up artist
by ALC Punk!
sly
Katee meets her in a bar--it's the sort of meeting where she knows she should recognize the woman sitting next to her, laughing at her stupid as fuck jokes. But she doesn't. She only gets the sense that she should, and so it's a little amusing when Ms. "call me Deb" Gibson finally shakes her hand.
"You're cute," says Deb, leaning across Katee to grab a handful of peanuts. "So, what's a kid like you--"
"Not a kid," Katee objects, knowing that's the stupidest thing she's said in at least a day. She laughs, trying to take back the automatic defense--she's sick of being the youngest, after all. "But, you were flattering my ego?"
"Aren't you a little young for an ego?"
The teasing note is sly, and Katee almost takes exception to it. She pretends to be upset, grabbing for her beer (fifth or sixth, by now, but it doesn't matter, it's like water, anyway). When Deb leans across her for more peanuts, Katee's hand brushes against the side of her breast.
friction
Deb tastes like salt and beer, which is fine with Katee (she isn't sure she could taste anything else at this point, anyway). When her hands skim under Katee's top (the one that Grace made her buy and she's never worn it because it always looks wrong in some way), it's like an electric-shock skating along her nerves.
"My mom used to play you to put me to sleep when I was a kid--" and Katee thinks that was a stupid thing to say, like it might break the moment. It's true, though.
(more true than Deb's fingers sliding between her thighs, but that hasn't happened yet--except in Katee's imagination, which is the one thing that always gets her in trouble, along with her big fucking mouth--she needs to learn to control that, better)
A breathless laugh, and Deb kisses her cheek, "You're sweet."
"Nah." Katee catches Deb's mouth again, moving close up against her, wanting to grind and thinking it might be too soon for that (for any of this).
new york is a wonderful town
It's one of those things she likes most about big cities. You can run into literally anyone. Even in back alleys behind theatres. (and she doesn't know why they came here, but maybe it's part of Deb's fantasy or something, not that she cares to ask right now, because she's too busy doing other things--)
"This is supposed to be Broadway," Deb says, and she's almost laughing, like she knows something Katee doesn't (and maybe she does, but Katee's distracted by her neck and the way she tastes of theatre-paint and sweat and the former can't be good for her to lick, but she doesn't care).
"Isn't it?" asks Katee, breaking away to kiss Deb's mouth (never Debbie, please. And Deborah's too formal when they're doing this).
Deborah's hands grab for her waist, and she kisses her back.
dirt
There's grit on her skin, thanks to Deborah's hands and fingers--Katee doesn't want to think about what was on the alley wall as she arches back (is still on the alley wall), feeling Deb's (now cleancleanclean) fingers drive further into her.
"Shit--yes--"
"Dirty mouth."
Stop me, she thinks, but doesn't say, because Deb's hand twists and her mouth nips, and Katee is coming in an alley in fucking New York.
drag
They find a dingy bathroom and Katee washes her hands and face while Deb looks on, almost amused. "You shirt's untucked."
Pulling at it, Katee tucks it haphazardly back in, then shrugs. "Could be worse." She reaches out and grabs Deb's wrist, shifting to back her into the counter.
This time, the kisses are almost perfunctory, and Katee lets her go a moment later. "You've got lipstick on your collar."
A grin dazzles her, and Deb moves to eye the red smear that also covers a bit of her neck. "I'll think of it as a badge of honor." Or something else, but Katee's not really paying her any attention anymore. Her head aches and her body is buzzing, and she needs something to do with her hands (not sex again, that would be a waste of time).
cigarette
The taste of the filter is almost enough to make Katee gag, and she misses those damned cigars Starbuck smokes--if only because they smell better, though she's never been able to explain that to anyone (and she gave them up to keep kids from smoking, anyway, which doesn't explain the shitty cigarette in her hands now--)
"You going to be all night out here?"
Deb's looking bored, now. Like she's had Katee and now she's done and over with it. And Katee thinks maybe that's possible. Or maybe not. "And what if I am?"
"I was hoping for another round," Deborah whispers, and she's trying for husky, but even now her voice just isn't that deep (and Katee thinks of Michael and shoves him back in a box before she can consider his voice in this sort of setting), and it doesn't do much for Katee.
Leaning over, Katee kisses her, holding the cigarette away. It's perfunctory. "I've got to get back. Early morning press thingie for--" Katee sucks on the cigarette and then drops it, grinding it under her heel. "That thing--" she adds, her tone vague.
shaken
Katee wakes in the morning when the hotel alarm blares, and she throws the pillow at it. Her mind is fuzzy and her mouth tastes like shit.
Press junket, she thinks.
She's halfway through her morning routine when she runs her fingers over the bite mark Deb left on her hip, and she starts a little in surprise. Her fingers graze her skin, and she realizes that she's buzzing the way she does after sex--
It hadn't been just a dream. (mouth against hers, tongue tasting of beer amd salt and, god, yes, there--)
"Fuck," she whispers, "I had Debbie Gibson last night. Fuck. My mom will never believe me." (not that she'd ever tell her mother something like that, though the temptation is totally there).
-f-
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