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salmon_pinkTitle: Tickle Her Fancy
Fandom: Agents Of SHIELD
Pairing: Skye/Jemma
Rating: NC-17
Words: 1352
Timeline: Season One
Notes: Tickling. For![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
allbingo, prompt "tickling", and a prompt at The Annual Femslash Kink Meme.
Summary: Jemma is not good at lying; Skye is very good at tickling.
Jemma lets out a squeal and kicks out so hard that the wall rattles when her foot connects with it. Skye stares at her, at her foot, at the wall, and lets out a shaky exhale that judders in the middle with laughter.
Jemma’s eyes are very wide. “Oh no,” she whispers, voice filled with dread. “Oh no, no, no.”
It’s too late, though. Skye’s already advancing, hands raised, fingers twitching threateningly in the air. “You’re ticklish,” she accuses with obvious glee.
Jemma backs up a little further, but there’s no escaping. The small size of the bunks has never bothered her before, but suddenly it’s a very real issue, her back against the wall, pillows squashed beneath her. “I am not!” she huffs, but she’s never been a good liar.
Skye looks delighted, in a thoroughly evil way.
It’s not Jemma’s fault that Skye’s reaction to the thorough and nuanced explanation Jemma had attempted to provide of the latest project she and Fitz were working on was for Skye to affectionately call her a dork and pinch Jemma’s side. It’s even less Jemma’s fault that her own reaction had been so pronounced, what with the high-pitched noises and the wall-kicking. Entirely natural response to unexpected stimuli and all that.
And, yes, Jemma is thoroughly ticklish.
She braces herself, but it’s not enough. Skye descends on her, and Jemma makes a noise that could probably be classified as a shriek, twisting under Skye’s hands as they move everywhere. Pinching and prodding and tickling her, along her sides and under her arms, and Jemma can feel herself giggling and begging for mercy.
She wishes Skye had discovered this little secret when Jemma was still fully clothed and had a nice thick cardigan to act as tickle-resistant armour. Admittedly, she wishes Skye hadn’t discovered this little secret at all, but it would probably wouldn’t feel so intense if she weren’t already stripped to her underwear.
Skye’s fingers dance across Jemma’s ribs, and Jemma can’t help it, she really can’t. It feels as if her entire body bucks off the bed, back arching into the touch, obvious and uncontrollable. A needy sound catches in her throat, sensation coursing through her as she pants and squeezes her thighs together.
Shocked silence stretches between them. Skye is frozen above her, mouth hanging open.
“Oh my God,” Skye hisses, and Jemma wants to cover her face in her hands but she can’t look away from the fascination in Skye’s eyes. “You have a tickle fetish!”
“No, I don’t!” Jemma shoots back. Such a bad liar. “And quiet, the whole Bus’ll hear you!”
Skye snorts out a laugh. “I know all your noises, Simmons, and that one was definitely a sex noise.” She gives an affectionate shake of her head. “And I’m sorry to break it to you, but it was also a loud sex noise. Right now, everyone knows what we’re doing in here.”
Which is probably true, and Jemma will absolutely be embarrassed about it later, but her heart is thudding too hard right now, goosebumps all over her skin where Skye touched her. “Well, okay, perhaps that’s true. Although they probably think we’re having, you know, normal sex, not that you’re tickling me.”
Skye takes a deep breath, hands settling firmly on Jemma’s shoulders. She suddenly looks deadly serious. “Actually, we’re going to be doing both.” Jemma inhales sharply, a pulse of heat between her thighs. “You remember our safe-word?”
“Manscaping?” Something they’d agreed on after a conversation that left both Fitz and Ward squirming and defensive, and May smirking.
Skye nods, seriousness fading into a smirk. “That’s the one.”
And then she’s moving again, and Jemma’s squeaking and laughing and rolling around as Skye tickles her mercilessly. If she’d thought Skye was touching her everywhere before, she was wrong, because now Skye’s touching her everywhere. The inside of her elbows, the length of her thighs. Skye traces lightly up Jemma’s neck, and the noise she makes in response is loud and shaky, hips grinding back against the sheets.
Skye’s watching her in awe, pupils dilating as Jemma squirms beneath her.
The front-clasp of her bra makes it easy for Skye to pull it aside, and then Skye’s tickling the underside of her breasts, her nipples, her armpits, and Jemma can’t get enough air, gasping for it. She can feel tear tracks from the corner of her eyes to her hairline, and she’s sure she must be bright red, her face and her neck and her chest.
There’s something building in her, skittering pressure from the inside out, pressing down between her legs. She can feel herself clenching, cunt hot and soaked beneath her panties, growing wetter with every teasing touch.
“Please,” Jemma manages to whimper, and her hands are shaking too bad to push at the waistband, but Skye sees, takes over for her. Drags the panties down her legs, shoves Jemma’s thighs apart. Fingers still tickling, light glances of touch as they move up her legs, and Jemma’s writhing and jerking almost at random, body completely out of her control as Skye gets higher, higher.
Fingers between her legs, but only the barest touch, feather-light and making Jemma writhe. Overloaded on everything Skye’s doing, nerves firing rapidly, and Skye pushes her thumb down hard just beneath Jemma’s clit. Holds it there, even as her fingers brush higher, tickle her clit almost cruelly, and it shouldn’t be enough to send her over the edge, too fleeting a touch, but Jemma’s body is beyond listening to her.
Her head whips back and forth against the pillows, whole body thrashing as she wails and comes, feeling like all that building pressure is baring down on her cunt from the inside. Her whole body flashes cold, then hot, then freezing, and she’s shaking, trembling, making distressed noises as her hips give one last jolt, her back arching up one more time before she collapses against the mattress.
Jemma’s still panting and shivering when Skye laughs, that soft and amazed chuckle she has when something has totally blown her mind. “Holy shit, Jemma.”
“That, um.” Jemma licks her lips, takes a shaky breath. “That’s never happened before.” Skye raises an eyebrow at her. “I mean, obviously that has happened before. The orgasm, I mean. That is, I have achieved orgasm before.”
“I’m aware,” Skye teases with a smirk, and yes, she’d be more aware than most, having provided many of those orgasms. “But never from … tickling?”
Jemma shakes her head. She feels like she’s made up of springs and rubber bands, but in an oddly pleasant way. Her throat feels tight from giggling. And she feels open, aware of her cunt, of the way it feels like if she doesn’t get Skye’s fingers inside her soon she’ll explode.
“Always glad to be a first,” Skye grins, leaning down to give her sweet and chaste kiss. “And I can’t wait to try it again.”
Jemma swallows. “Again?”
“Hmm, next time we get leave, maybe?” Skye muses, fingers rubbing circles against Jemma’s knee, the pressure heavier than anything that could be thought of as tickling, but still light enough to remind her of it. “Get you in a real bed, with a headboard. Makes it easier to tie you up.”
Jemma inhales slowly through her nose. “Tie me up?”
Skye’s hands move to press against the pillows on either side of Jemma’s head, leaning more fully over her. “Imagine it, Simmons. Your hands tied to the headboard, your feet tied up too. Holding you spread like that, helpless, while I do whatever I want to you.” Her voice is so low, so hungry. “I could tickle you until you scream, until you cry. Until you can’t come anymore, and I still wouldn’t stop.”
There’s a insistent throb across Jemma’s labia, and she needs Skye’s fingers inside of her more urgently than ever. “That … sounds interesting.”
Clearly she does have a tickle fetish, no matter how much she might want to deny it.
It’s probably just as well that indulging Jemma seems to be something of a fetish for Skye.
Fandom: Agents Of SHIELD
Pairing: Skye/Jemma
Rating: NC-17
Words: 1352
Timeline: Season One
Notes: Tickling. For
allbingo, prompt "tickling", and a prompt at The Annual Femslash Kink Meme.Summary: Jemma is not good at lying; Skye is very good at tickling.
Jemma lets out a squeal and kicks out so hard that the wall rattles when her foot connects with it. Skye stares at her, at her foot, at the wall, and lets out a shaky exhale that judders in the middle with laughter.
Jemma’s eyes are very wide. “Oh no,” she whispers, voice filled with dread. “Oh no, no, no.”
It’s too late, though. Skye’s already advancing, hands raised, fingers twitching threateningly in the air. “You’re ticklish,” she accuses with obvious glee.
Jemma backs up a little further, but there’s no escaping. The small size of the bunks has never bothered her before, but suddenly it’s a very real issue, her back against the wall, pillows squashed beneath her. “I am not!” she huffs, but she’s never been a good liar.
Skye looks delighted, in a thoroughly evil way.
It’s not Jemma’s fault that Skye’s reaction to the thorough and nuanced explanation Jemma had attempted to provide of the latest project she and Fitz were working on was for Skye to affectionately call her a dork and pinch Jemma’s side. It’s even less Jemma’s fault that her own reaction had been so pronounced, what with the high-pitched noises and the wall-kicking. Entirely natural response to unexpected stimuli and all that.
And, yes, Jemma is thoroughly ticklish.
She braces herself, but it’s not enough. Skye descends on her, and Jemma makes a noise that could probably be classified as a shriek, twisting under Skye’s hands as they move everywhere. Pinching and prodding and tickling her, along her sides and under her arms, and Jemma can feel herself giggling and begging for mercy.
She wishes Skye had discovered this little secret when Jemma was still fully clothed and had a nice thick cardigan to act as tickle-resistant armour. Admittedly, she wishes Skye hadn’t discovered this little secret at all, but it would probably wouldn’t feel so intense if she weren’t already stripped to her underwear.
Skye’s fingers dance across Jemma’s ribs, and Jemma can’t help it, she really can’t. It feels as if her entire body bucks off the bed, back arching into the touch, obvious and uncontrollable. A needy sound catches in her throat, sensation coursing through her as she pants and squeezes her thighs together.
Shocked silence stretches between them. Skye is frozen above her, mouth hanging open.
“Oh my God,” Skye hisses, and Jemma wants to cover her face in her hands but she can’t look away from the fascination in Skye’s eyes. “You have a tickle fetish!”
“No, I don’t!” Jemma shoots back. Such a bad liar. “And quiet, the whole Bus’ll hear you!”
Skye snorts out a laugh. “I know all your noises, Simmons, and that one was definitely a sex noise.” She gives an affectionate shake of her head. “And I’m sorry to break it to you, but it was also a loud sex noise. Right now, everyone knows what we’re doing in here.”
Which is probably true, and Jemma will absolutely be embarrassed about it later, but her heart is thudding too hard right now, goosebumps all over her skin where Skye touched her. “Well, okay, perhaps that’s true. Although they probably think we’re having, you know, normal sex, not that you’re tickling me.”
Skye takes a deep breath, hands settling firmly on Jemma’s shoulders. She suddenly looks deadly serious. “Actually, we’re going to be doing both.” Jemma inhales sharply, a pulse of heat between her thighs. “You remember our safe-word?”
“Manscaping?” Something they’d agreed on after a conversation that left both Fitz and Ward squirming and defensive, and May smirking.
Skye nods, seriousness fading into a smirk. “That’s the one.”
And then she’s moving again, and Jemma’s squeaking and laughing and rolling around as Skye tickles her mercilessly. If she’d thought Skye was touching her everywhere before, she was wrong, because now Skye’s touching her everywhere. The inside of her elbows, the length of her thighs. Skye traces lightly up Jemma’s neck, and the noise she makes in response is loud and shaky, hips grinding back against the sheets.
Skye’s watching her in awe, pupils dilating as Jemma squirms beneath her.
The front-clasp of her bra makes it easy for Skye to pull it aside, and then Skye’s tickling the underside of her breasts, her nipples, her armpits, and Jemma can’t get enough air, gasping for it. She can feel tear tracks from the corner of her eyes to her hairline, and she’s sure she must be bright red, her face and her neck and her chest.
There’s something building in her, skittering pressure from the inside out, pressing down between her legs. She can feel herself clenching, cunt hot and soaked beneath her panties, growing wetter with every teasing touch.
“Please,” Jemma manages to whimper, and her hands are shaking too bad to push at the waistband, but Skye sees, takes over for her. Drags the panties down her legs, shoves Jemma’s thighs apart. Fingers still tickling, light glances of touch as they move up her legs, and Jemma’s writhing and jerking almost at random, body completely out of her control as Skye gets higher, higher.
Fingers between her legs, but only the barest touch, feather-light and making Jemma writhe. Overloaded on everything Skye’s doing, nerves firing rapidly, and Skye pushes her thumb down hard just beneath Jemma’s clit. Holds it there, even as her fingers brush higher, tickle her clit almost cruelly, and it shouldn’t be enough to send her over the edge, too fleeting a touch, but Jemma’s body is beyond listening to her.
Her head whips back and forth against the pillows, whole body thrashing as she wails and comes, feeling like all that building pressure is baring down on her cunt from the inside. Her whole body flashes cold, then hot, then freezing, and she’s shaking, trembling, making distressed noises as her hips give one last jolt, her back arching up one more time before she collapses against the mattress.
Jemma’s still panting and shivering when Skye laughs, that soft and amazed chuckle she has when something has totally blown her mind. “Holy shit, Jemma.”
“That, um.” Jemma licks her lips, takes a shaky breath. “That’s never happened before.” Skye raises an eyebrow at her. “I mean, obviously that has happened before. The orgasm, I mean. That is, I have achieved orgasm before.”
“I’m aware,” Skye teases with a smirk, and yes, she’d be more aware than most, having provided many of those orgasms. “But never from … tickling?”
Jemma shakes her head. She feels like she’s made up of springs and rubber bands, but in an oddly pleasant way. Her throat feels tight from giggling. And she feels open, aware of her cunt, of the way it feels like if she doesn’t get Skye’s fingers inside her soon she’ll explode.
“Always glad to be a first,” Skye grins, leaning down to give her sweet and chaste kiss. “And I can’t wait to try it again.”
Jemma swallows. “Again?”
“Hmm, next time we get leave, maybe?” Skye muses, fingers rubbing circles against Jemma’s knee, the pressure heavier than anything that could be thought of as tickling, but still light enough to remind her of it. “Get you in a real bed, with a headboard. Makes it easier to tie you up.”
Jemma inhales slowly through her nose. “Tie me up?”
Skye’s hands move to press against the pillows on either side of Jemma’s head, leaning more fully over her. “Imagine it, Simmons. Your hands tied to the headboard, your feet tied up too. Holding you spread like that, helpless, while I do whatever I want to you.” Her voice is so low, so hungry. “I could tickle you until you scream, until you cry. Until you can’t come anymore, and I still wouldn’t stop.”
There’s a insistent throb across Jemma’s labia, and she needs Skye’s fingers inside of her more urgently than ever. “That … sounds interesting.”
Clearly she does have a tickle fetish, no matter how much she might want to deny it.
It’s probably just as well that indulging Jemma seems to be something of a fetish for Skye.
