Jacqui (wily_one24) wrote,

Fic: Elle Table, prompt #031

Title: Distortion
Author: Jacqui, wily_one24.
Prompt: #031: Proximity
Progress: 010/100
Word Count: 565
Table: Here.
Rating: R.
Spoilers: Are we still doing spoilers for Elle? Really?


There were a lot of things Elle remembered.

Meals she’d eaten, orderlies she’d shocked and lessons that had been ingrained so far deep into her brain she couldn’t forget them if she’d tried. She remembered birthdays and holidays, as they were in the company, and she remembered days that were just days and differed in no way to any other.

Sometimes she remembered things that couldn’t possibly have happened.

Things she knew hadn’t happened.

Dreams the therapists tried to tell her. Uneventuated occurrences she would shock them back and then not see them again for a good long while.

If she thought about it, stopped to really think, it wasn’t too hard to distinguish what had honestly happened and what she had just thought to have happened. Sometimes she couldn’t be bothered putting in that effort, it was much easier to drift along and it was incredibly more interesting than reality most days.

She didn’t ever really want to think about the things she knew had happened, but didn’t want to believe.

It amused her, mostly, but sometimes it caused her minor problems.

Like when she’d shocked the cheerleader out of the sky and Noah had shot her and then been shot and she’d been a mess of nerves and pain and pain killers and had that weird morphine dream about petite blonde girls in cheerleader outfits climbing onto her lap.

That dream.

Where Claire had kissed her, really kissed her, all mouth and tongue and meaning, heavy, wet sucking kisses and hungry hands that clawed at her clothes. There had been soft skin and breasts and sighs in the back of throats and hard nipples and fingers, oh yes, right there.

Cheerleaders knuckle deep inside her, pushing so hard that sparks flew out of control and she couldn’t breathe and there was nothing but blue and a light, throaty whisper in her ear urging her on, overflows and surges and, god yes, sparks with no answering yelp of pain and angry yelling afterward.

That dream, where she’d woken up with slick thighs, a dry mouth, and orders from daddy to keep an eye on the very girl herself.

Her brain forgot to relay the message that it had just been a dream and she spent her time sucking the cold slush-o down as she watched Claire at the beach. Forgot to remind her it hadn’t happened and wouldn’t happen again as Claire, red faced and almost speechless with fury, came to confront her.

Those lips and that face and Elle could almost taste her again as she stood jittery and suddenly frozen with need.

It had taken all her effort not to just reach out and grab her, pull the cheerleader in for another mind blowing kiss, shove her tongue down Claire’s throat and tongue fuck her into submission right then and there until they were both breathless and panting.

Only at the last second did she stop herself and it was slightly fortunate, because not only would Claire not reciprocate, Elle was fairly sure good company girls didn’t forcibly make out with the enemy against their will and she really was in no mood to have her tongue bitten clean off.

Especially when she didn’t have the handy skill of growing it back like some people.

She really did need to ask for a lot more or a lot less of the morphine.

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