Salmon Pink (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
salmon_pink) wrote2014-06-27 11:17 am
salmon_pink) wrote2014-06-27 11:17 am
(Marvel) Galactic
Title: Galactic
Fandom: Marvel
Pairing: America/Kate
Rating: PG-13
Words: 250
Notes: For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
femslash100's Drabbletag, prompt "nighttime".
“What time is it?” Kate asks distractedly. She’s lying on her back on America’s bed, fully dressed. Boots on the sheets that don’t belong to her, the brat.
“Middle of the night,” America answers with a shrug. It’s her room, but she’s the one sat on the floor, shoulders pressed back against the wall. But that’s just Kate, filling every space like it belongs to her, even the spaces in America’s chest she’s been keeping carefully empty for so long.
“Yeah? It’s hard to tell,” Kate muses. She’s right, of course, there’s no passing of the sun or the seasons out here in space to track the time. Maybe Kate feels like she’s only been gone from Earth a few days. Maybe it feels like years. America knows from experience that those homesick pangs never really go away.
“Middle of the night,” she says again, pushing up on to her feet. She crosses the room to lean over the sprawl of Kate’s body, shadows settling over that fair skin. “You know how I know?” Her hands slide up Kate’s stomach, cup her breasts, hovering in midair with their lips only inches apart. “Because I only get to touch you like this at night.”
Kate grins up at her. “It always looks like night out here.”
America smirks, hands squeezing a little, tasting Kate’s gasp. “Then I guess I get to touch you all the time, huh?”
Kate arches up into the heat of America’s palms. “Yeah, I guess you do.”
Fandom: Marvel
Pairing: America/Kate
Rating: PG-13
Words: 250
Notes: For
femslash100's Drabbletag, prompt "nighttime".“What time is it?” Kate asks distractedly. She’s lying on her back on America’s bed, fully dressed. Boots on the sheets that don’t belong to her, the brat.
“Middle of the night,” America answers with a shrug. It’s her room, but she’s the one sat on the floor, shoulders pressed back against the wall. But that’s just Kate, filling every space like it belongs to her, even the spaces in America’s chest she’s been keeping carefully empty for so long.
“Yeah? It’s hard to tell,” Kate muses. She’s right, of course, there’s no passing of the sun or the seasons out here in space to track the time. Maybe Kate feels like she’s only been gone from Earth a few days. Maybe it feels like years. America knows from experience that those homesick pangs never really go away.
“Middle of the night,” she says again, pushing up on to her feet. She crosses the room to lean over the sprawl of Kate’s body, shadows settling over that fair skin. “You know how I know?” Her hands slide up Kate’s stomach, cup her breasts, hovering in midair with their lips only inches apart. “Because I only get to touch you like this at night.”
Kate grins up at her. “It always looks like night out here.”
America smirks, hands squeezing a little, tasting Kate’s gasp. “Then I guess I get to touch you all the time, huh?”
Kate arches up into the heat of America’s palms. “Yeah, I guess you do.”