fic: A Snowfall Kind Of Love
Aug. 1st, 2011 05:26 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bonnefoisTitle: A Snowfall Kind Of Love
Series: Hetalia
Character/pairing: fem!France/fem!Canada
Rating: R/NC-17
Word count: 1216
Author's note: porn battle. Precedes Crack The Shutters. Title comes from "Snowfall" by Ingrid Michaelson. For Porn Battle 12 I'm starting Christmas gifts early this year in hopes I don't fail halfway through, soshineofastar, I choose you! randomrape can has the next part in this series with the bath or shower sex. I haven't figured out which (you can vote, if you want.)
Thanks to Melly for randomly cheerleading me.
Marianne hates Canadian winters. She has fondness for the country itself–especially Montreal and Quebec city, and so many places they have stayed in Quebec, a province after her own heart–but she is strictly a summer sort of girl.
She pulls her coat a little closer around her as she takes the shortest route home. By Madeleine's standards, it might be even considered a 'warmer' day. To Marianne, however, it's still insufferable.
She's walking home today, and though Marianne's slightly disappointed, but it's of no matter. Sometimes they had to go their separate ways to home. She preferred the company, the silly talks and stolen kisses right there out in the open, but she would survive.
It's past an especially large group of drifts between houses that she hears the crackling. And just as she begins to turn, that is about when she's pulled into the snow drift.
Madeleine giggles and holds her close, no doubt reveling in this mischief.
"Yes, yes, you're a silly girl who will be thoroughly punished when we get home," Marianne says.
"Ooh, punishment~" Madeleine replies.
Marianne tries to push herself free, get out of this dreadfully cold snowbank, but Madeleine chooses this moment to kiss her. And it's an awful distraction, not that she lets it get the better of her. Marianne plays to win when it comes to sex. However, nowadays after all of Marianne's thorough corruption, Madeleine has started to be just as aggressive.
It's cold against her cheek, her neck, but there's a bit of warmth where their mouths meet. She can feel Madeleine's hand squeezing her breast, while the other one gets busy under her skirt. The fingers that brush her inner thighs, across the slit and rest at her clit are ice cold. She reaches blindly and tears at the zipper of Madeleine's down jacket, because if she's going to be cold, she's going to make sure that her girlfriend is just as cold as she is.
It's her own fault, really. She corrupted a shy little Catholic school girl into liking public sex and it landed her in a snow bank. She's up for kinky things. Things involving feathers and leather, things in the backseat of other people's cars, but she's shied away from ice play, because at heart she is a summer girl who prefers sundresses to thick, bulky coats and howling winter winds which make her skin dry and ruins her hair.
Madeleine climbs on top, her red coat unzipped. Marianne takes this chance to reach under her white sweater and caress the hardened nubs of Madeleine's nipples. Her breasts are covered in gooseflesh, little dots of skin. She runs her hands over them, teasing. Madeleine has always had very sensitive breasts. She's even managed to make her lover come without touching any other part of her before, and reveled in the powerful feeling it gave her.
But they're both easy to get off. They can both come from a five minute in an elevator, a stolen moment in a lunch break with clothes disheveled and Madeleine's little beret askew.
Madeleine's fingers are wet with snow as they enter her. There's frost in her eyelashes, her eyebrows and on the hair sticking out of her little beret. Ah, it's cold, so much that the chill spreads inside, mixes with the warmth until there's a nice chill running under her skin. She ruts against Madeleine's hand, her juices warming the skin.
Madeleine's pigtails are hanging low in Marianne's face, and she's biting her lip in that ways she does when she's trying to hold back. Usually in more public places where they have to be discreet, at least. At home, she yowls like a cat when Marianne goes down on her.
"D-does this make you feel good, chèrie?" Marianne says. She's always proud of her composure, but it's hard to be entirely calm when Madeleine is quickening her pace and there's the feel of hot and cold, the pressure building inside her—
"Mmm," Madeleine says.
Marianne tweaks her nipples, and wins the game a bit as Madeleine falters. She pauses in thrusting her fingers, as if she's suddenly become weak in the knees.
"What's wrong, chèrie? Lost your grip on being spontaneous and dominant?" Marianne teases. She's about to say more, when Madeleine thrusts her fingers deep in, finding the spot that makes her dizzy and unable to continue her playful teasing.
Madeleine is determined. Her glasses are fogged over and she's obviously trying not to cry out. Maybe she's close to orgasm. Marianne pushes her sweater up and tugs at the cute, yellow floral bra with a bow between her breasts, like it's a gift just for her. She pulls Madeleine just close enough to take a nipple in her mouth, and loll her tongue over it. Madeleine shivers, and Marianne doesn't think it's from the cold. She knows her girl could roll all in the snow, naked and still be perfectly happy.
She steals a kiss with one last push into Marianne, with a loss of control that can only mean climax. It's a quick kiss, that dissolves into resting against each other with ragged breaths, and that pinnacle, that beautiful feeling which she usually revels in. Except now the afterglow is being killed because her ass is freezing.
"Ahh, you crazy girl, we should go in and get changed," Marianne says.
Madeleine pushed her glasses up, even though they were so fogged over she could barely see out of them. Nervous habit, she supposed."Crazy girl? This crazy girl just gave you a roll in the snow, eh."
Madeleine puffs her cheeks out. Marianne leans in to kiss her. "You're my crazy girl."
She smooths her skirt down. It's covered in snow now. Madeleine zips up her coat without bothering to fix her bra. Marianne takes it as an invitation for more to happen later on.
"And to think, you used to be such a cute little shy and innocent Catholic schoolgirl..." Marianne says. She's craving a cigarette already.
"I still am, sorta," Madeleine protests.
"You're painfully cute, still somewhat shy, but you are in no way innocent, chèrie," Marianne says.
"Not anymore," Madeleine says. "With all your corrupting and stuff."
"Yes, I'm very proud," Marianne says with a smile.
Madeleine pops up, and offers her hand. Marianne takes it, and for once resists pulling her down again because it's wet and cold and she just wants to get home already.
"Now, chèrie..." Marianne says, snuggling close as they walk. "Don't you think it's about time we warmed up?"
Series: Hetalia
Character/pairing: fem!France/fem!Canada
Rating: R/NC-17
Word count: 1216
Author's note: porn battle. Precedes Crack The Shutters. Title comes from "Snowfall" by Ingrid Michaelson. For Porn Battle 12 I'm starting Christmas gifts early this year in hopes I don't fail halfway through, so
shineofastar, I choose you! randomrape can has the next part in this series with the bath or shower sex. I haven't figured out which (you can vote, if you want.)Thanks to Melly for randomly cheerleading me.
Marianne hates Canadian winters. She has fondness for the country itself–especially Montreal and Quebec city, and so many places they have stayed in Quebec, a province after her own heart–but she is strictly a summer sort of girl.
She pulls her coat a little closer around her as she takes the shortest route home. By Madeleine's standards, it might be even considered a 'warmer' day. To Marianne, however, it's still insufferable.
She's walking home today, and though Marianne's slightly disappointed, but it's of no matter. Sometimes they had to go their separate ways to home. She preferred the company, the silly talks and stolen kisses right there out in the open, but she would survive.
It's past an especially large group of drifts between houses that she hears the crackling. And just as she begins to turn, that is about when she's pulled into the snow drift.
Madeleine giggles and holds her close, no doubt reveling in this mischief.
"Yes, yes, you're a silly girl who will be thoroughly punished when we get home," Marianne says.
"Ooh, punishment~" Madeleine replies.
Marianne tries to push herself free, get out of this dreadfully cold snowbank, but Madeleine chooses this moment to kiss her. And it's an awful distraction, not that she lets it get the better of her. Marianne plays to win when it comes to sex. However, nowadays after all of Marianne's thorough corruption, Madeleine has started to be just as aggressive.
It's cold against her cheek, her neck, but there's a bit of warmth where their mouths meet. She can feel Madeleine's hand squeezing her breast, while the other one gets busy under her skirt. The fingers that brush her inner thighs, across the slit and rest at her clit are ice cold. She reaches blindly and tears at the zipper of Madeleine's down jacket, because if she's going to be cold, she's going to make sure that her girlfriend is just as cold as she is.
It's her own fault, really. She corrupted a shy little Catholic school girl into liking public sex and it landed her in a snow bank. She's up for kinky things. Things involving feathers and leather, things in the backseat of other people's cars, but she's shied away from ice play, because at heart she is a summer girl who prefers sundresses to thick, bulky coats and howling winter winds which make her skin dry and ruins her hair.
Madeleine climbs on top, her red coat unzipped. Marianne takes this chance to reach under her white sweater and caress the hardened nubs of Madeleine's nipples. Her breasts are covered in gooseflesh, little dots of skin. She runs her hands over them, teasing. Madeleine has always had very sensitive breasts. She's even managed to make her lover come without touching any other part of her before, and reveled in the powerful feeling it gave her.
But they're both easy to get off. They can both come from a five minute in an elevator, a stolen moment in a lunch break with clothes disheveled and Madeleine's little beret askew.
Madeleine's fingers are wet with snow as they enter her. There's frost in her eyelashes, her eyebrows and on the hair sticking out of her little beret. Ah, it's cold, so much that the chill spreads inside, mixes with the warmth until there's a nice chill running under her skin. She ruts against Madeleine's hand, her juices warming the skin.
Madeleine's pigtails are hanging low in Marianne's face, and she's biting her lip in that ways she does when she's trying to hold back. Usually in more public places where they have to be discreet, at least. At home, she yowls like a cat when Marianne goes down on her.
"D-does this make you feel good, chèrie?" Marianne says. She's always proud of her composure, but it's hard to be entirely calm when Madeleine is quickening her pace and there's the feel of hot and cold, the pressure building inside her—
"Mmm," Madeleine says.
Marianne tweaks her nipples, and wins the game a bit as Madeleine falters. She pauses in thrusting her fingers, as if she's suddenly become weak in the knees.
"What's wrong, chèrie? Lost your grip on being spontaneous and dominant?" Marianne teases. She's about to say more, when Madeleine thrusts her fingers deep in, finding the spot that makes her dizzy and unable to continue her playful teasing.
Madeleine is determined. Her glasses are fogged over and she's obviously trying not to cry out. Maybe she's close to orgasm. Marianne pushes her sweater up and tugs at the cute, yellow floral bra with a bow between her breasts, like it's a gift just for her. She pulls Madeleine just close enough to take a nipple in her mouth, and loll her tongue over it. Madeleine shivers, and Marianne doesn't think it's from the cold. She knows her girl could roll all in the snow, naked and still be perfectly happy.
She steals a kiss with one last push into Marianne, with a loss of control that can only mean climax. It's a quick kiss, that dissolves into resting against each other with ragged breaths, and that pinnacle, that beautiful feeling which she usually revels in. Except now the afterglow is being killed because her ass is freezing.
"Ahh, you crazy girl, we should go in and get changed," Marianne says.
Madeleine pushed her glasses up, even though they were so fogged over she could barely see out of them. Nervous habit, she supposed."Crazy girl? This crazy girl just gave you a roll in the snow, eh."
Madeleine puffs her cheeks out. Marianne leans in to kiss her. "You're my crazy girl."
She smooths her skirt down. It's covered in snow now. Madeleine zips up her coat without bothering to fix her bra. Marianne takes it as an invitation for more to happen later on.
"And to think, you used to be such a cute little shy and innocent Catholic schoolgirl..." Marianne says. She's craving a cigarette already.
"I still am, sorta," Madeleine protests.
"You're painfully cute, still somewhat shy, but you are in no way innocent, chèrie," Marianne says.
"Not anymore," Madeleine says. "With all your corrupting and stuff."
"Yes, I'm very proud," Marianne says with a smile.
Madeleine pops up, and offers her hand. Marianne takes it, and for once resists pulling her down again because it's wet and cold and she just wants to get home already.
"Now, chèrie..." Marianne says, snuggling close as they walk. "Don't you think it's about time we warmed up?"
