![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
salmon_pinkTitle: Chink In Her Armour
Fandom: Disney (Hercules/The Hunchback Of Notre Dame)
Pairing: Megara/Esmeralda
Rating: NC-17
Words: 263
Notes: For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
100_women, prompt "weakness".
Meg’s fingers wind impatiently through Esmeralda’s wavy hair. Tugging a little, just for the way it makes Esmeralda murmur darkly against her, muttered curses vibrating over Meg’s labia in this way that makes her need to groan and twist and try to fuck her hips up into the sensation.
But Esmeralda holds her pinned against the seat, hands firm as they grip Meg’s thighs, even if her lips move so softly, so lightly. Teasing Meg, revenge for the hair pulling no doubt, and Meg’s certain that Esmeralda’s mouth is curved in a playful smirk. But she can’t see, not with the way Esmeralda’s hair falls thickly over her brow, not with the way her face is buried between Meg’s legs.
Her head falls back against the padded back of the chair, odd angle that makes her spine curve, chest pushed up, whole torso stretched tight. Esmeralda’s tongue works magic against her clit, pleasure building inside and out. On the edge and trembling with it, and this time her tug at all that hair is a warning that she’s close and a threat that there will be hell to pay if Esmeralda even thinks about stopping.
Of course, Esmeralda doesn’t, as relentless as always, just attacks with renewed enthusiasm, tearing Meg’s defences to pieces with practiced skill. It’s okay, though, because Meg has spent so many years being tough, being strong and hard and unbreakable. This weakness for Esmeralda’s touch has been earned over and over, and she’s damn well going to enjoy every moment of it as she comes apart beneath those lips.
Fandom: Disney (Hercules/The Hunchback Of Notre Dame)
Pairing: Megara/Esmeralda
Rating: NC-17
Words: 263
Notes: For
100_women, prompt "weakness".Meg’s fingers wind impatiently through Esmeralda’s wavy hair. Tugging a little, just for the way it makes Esmeralda murmur darkly against her, muttered curses vibrating over Meg’s labia in this way that makes her need to groan and twist and try to fuck her hips up into the sensation.
But Esmeralda holds her pinned against the seat, hands firm as they grip Meg’s thighs, even if her lips move so softly, so lightly. Teasing Meg, revenge for the hair pulling no doubt, and Meg’s certain that Esmeralda’s mouth is curved in a playful smirk. But she can’t see, not with the way Esmeralda’s hair falls thickly over her brow, not with the way her face is buried between Meg’s legs.
Her head falls back against the padded back of the chair, odd angle that makes her spine curve, chest pushed up, whole torso stretched tight. Esmeralda’s tongue works magic against her clit, pleasure building inside and out. On the edge and trembling with it, and this time her tug at all that hair is a warning that she’s close and a threat that there will be hell to pay if Esmeralda even thinks about stopping.
Of course, Esmeralda doesn’t, as relentless as always, just attacks with renewed enthusiasm, tearing Meg’s defences to pieces with practiced skill. It’s okay, though, because Meg has spent so many years being tough, being strong and hard and unbreakable. This weakness for Esmeralda’s touch has been earned over and over, and she’s damn well going to enjoy every moment of it as she comes apart beneath those lips.
