threeguesses: ([stock] motherfucking batman)
[personal profile] threeguesses
Title: Rumpelstiltskin
Word Count: ~1000
Disclaimer: Disclaimed!
Rating: Hard R
Summary: Alicia doesn’t notice the first few times.

AN: Written for TGW Summer Comment Fixathon. Prompt from [livejournal.com profile] sweetjamielee : Alicia/Kalinda, tattoo.


Rumpelstiltskin

Alicia doesn’t notice the first few times – it’s always dark and rushed, clothes shoved aside rather than off. They’re awkward with each other, shy (or at least what Alicia assumes is Kalinda’s brand of shy, all silence and acquiescence). There isn’t a lot of looking. The edge of Kalinda’s bra, the curve of her ribcage – both too much and not enough, and Alicia shuts her eyes against the implications, embarrassed.

Fully naked and it still takes her the better part of an hour – Kalinda’s body is like the sun, sharp and burning at the edges of her vision; not something to be looked at directly. It isn’t until Kalinda’s kneeling over her, backlight by the table lamp, that Alicia finally sees it:

“You have a tattoo?” (They don’t normally talk, during, and now Alicia knows why – she sounds breathless, desperate.)

“Mmm-hmm,” Kalinda murmurs, and doesn’t stop twisting her fingers, rubbing with the pad of her thumb. Alicia’s back arches helplessly.

In the end, it’s the afterglow that lets her do it. Lets her tug Kalinda closer and spread her thighs open, run a finger across the writing.

“What’s it say?”

“My name,” Kalinda says, the closest to squirming Alicia’s ever seen her. She’s straddling Alicia’s stomach, exposed. The hot-wet press of her is like a kiss. “In Hindi.”

Now Alicia’s blushing, because oh, she’s never really looked at— “It’s pretty,” she mumbles, letting Kalinda swing over and off, averting her eyes. “Um. It’s short. Does Hindi have different letters or—”

“Yes, but Alicia—” Kalinda sighs, settles on her side. Alicia cannot believe the landscape of her breasts and stomach, the way her hip rounds into her thigh. Against the taupe-edged sheets these things are implausible, fantastic. “It’s my other name.”

Oh.

Kalinda doesn’t know – can’t know what that name means to Alicia now. They’ve never talked specifics.

“Right,” Alicia chokes out. “Um. Why did you…?”

Kalinda fingers the edge of the pillowcase. Shrugs. “In case I forget.”



Alicia’s not – she’s not – still angry. They never talked about it properly, but that doesn’t mean— Kalinda said “sorry” once, dark-eyed and serious in bed. Alicia kissed her quiet.

It’s just a name, it’s just a name, you can’t even read it.

(But. Names are important sometimes, St. Olaf and the ogre, Adam and the animals. Eve. Wendy Moira Angela Darling was too long for Neverneverland; Peter Pan was too short to leave.)

Alicia doesn’t believe in fairies.



Still, it’s easy enough to ignore. Most of the time.

Not right now.

Alicia hasn’t done this before, not to Kalinda and not ever, and she’s— hesitant. Nervous. It’s so personal and they’re barely talking to each other, almost no eye contact, so how is she supposed to— But Kalinda’s done it twice now, soft wet mouth and tongue, careful teeth, and Alicia is nothing if not fair.

“You don’t, um, have to,” Kalinda says, but her legs are restless against sheets, twitching hips.

Alicia smirks against her abdomen, feels it jump. “Shut up, Kalinda.”

“Fuck.” Kalinda drops her head back, pretty long neck and pointy chin. Alicia wants to bite her. “Have it your way.”

“I will,” Alicia tells her hipbone, the curve of her stomach. Takes a deep breath and brings her face lower. Kalinda exhales shakily, drags a leg over her shoulder.

She’s wet. Alicia thumbs through the damp curls, traces slippery lines across her inner thigh. Across the tattoo.

It is pretty. Alicia hadn’t been lying when she’d said that. She follows the elegant whorls and curves with her finger, the topmost stroke that runs parallel to the crease of Kalinda’s thigh. Taps on what could be the ‘l’. Rubs a slow circle over what might be the ‘a’.

“Look, you really don’t have—” Kalinda’s breath cuts off in a gasp as Alicia bites the characters lightly. “Shit,” she hisses. Alicia bites again, and her breathing goes staccato. “Alicia, please—”

It tastes the same as the rest of her skin, really; hot, slightly salty. Alicia slides a finger inside her, paints the ink wet and shiny. Licks it off. Now it’s saltier – that sharp human smell, this time on her tongue.

“Alicia.”

She looks over to see Kalinda shifted up onto her elbows, watching. Eyes gone black, mouth slack and stunned. She seems at a loss for words.

Alicia works up the courage then. Turns her head thirty degrees. And it’s easy, really; easy to lick and taste, easy to curl two fingers inside, easy to feel Kalinda’s leg tense over her shoulder. Easy to smooth a hand across Kalinda’s stomach, hold down her twitching hips. Easy to want this.

Kalinda seems to be fighting it though, choked off whines and gasps dying in her throat. Alicia backs off, rests her messy chin on Kalinda’s abdomen.

“Want to come?”

“I—” Kalinda looks dazed. “Yes.”

“So do it.” Alicia bites at her hipbone, the top of her thigh. Bites at the tattoo. Hard, then harder. (Stories and secrets, and sometimes names have power.) “Kalinda – Leela. Come.”

It works. Mouth on her clit, thumb pressing down on the bite mark; Kalinda bucks so hard she nearly splits Alicia's lip. Her back is a tight begging comma. It’s the most noise Alicia’s ever heard her make, in bed or out.

Afterwards, Kalinda slides a shaky leg off Alicia’s shoulder. Uses it to urge her up. Alicia goes, nipping at her still-quivering belly.

“Ruined your makeup,” Kalinda says quietly, thumbing Alicia’s wet mouth. She looks warm and pleased and wary. A housecat, still slightly wild.

“I’m going to need to see you do that again,” Alicia tells her. “Sooner rather than later.”

Kalinda shakes her head, a curious little smile. “Okay.” She bends her body up into Alicia’s, close and deliberate. It’s more provocative arch than anything else, but her fingers are sure. Steady across Alicia’s back.

It takes Alicia a minute to realise she’s being held.
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