Genre: PWP (porn without plot)
Length: <1k words
The Longest Night by justjen
On any other Saturday, they would have been out at the Black Spider, getting sloshed on absinthe and sneering at the posers and wannabes. But not tonight.
“It’s the longest night,” Anthrax whispered, her voice transformed from its usual angry screech to something more akin to velvet. She stood by the door to the bedroom, one hand lingering over the light switch. “There was a time when people didn’t know if they’d survive the longest, coldest night of the year.”
She flicked the switch and the room descended into near darkness. Just the eerie orange glow of the streetlight outside gave any clue that they were still in the city and not out in the middle of the country, in the seclusion of some sacred grove or circle.
Ebola drew a sharp breath as she felt Anthrax step up close to her. One small hand took hold of hers, and it was kissed delicately.
“So they did everything they could to encourage the sun to return. They chanted and sang, lit fires, and tried to create their own light and warmth.”
Deft fingers found her shoulder, swept up to her jaw and brushed over her lips. Her face was gently pulled downwards so that she could be kissed, softly and sweetly.
“All through the night, they’d hope and pray that the light would return so that things could grow again, so that they could survive the winter. And through the long hours, they’d try to stay warm.”
She was held tightly in surprisingly strong arms, wrapped around her waist. With a small sigh, Ebola leaned in for another kiss, and felt Anthrax press against her, felt the warmth of her skin.
As the heat began to build, Ebola found herself being carefully guided back until the mattress bumped against her knees. She sat down, pulling Anthrax down with her so that the body over hers kept her safe from the mid-winter chill even as clothes were removed and cast aside.
In the darkness, she traced the gentle sweep of Anthrax’s curves, feeling her shiver, and held her tighter, listening to the whispered endearments that came between kisses, marvelling at the contrast between Anthrax’s usual spitfire energy and this quiet, gentle thing that undulated against her. How things changed in the darkness.
When Ebola thought she might faint from lack of air, Anthrax pulled back and lifted herself up just enough to trace a hand over Ebola’s breasts, tugging at one nipple so that she gasped sharply. Ebola heard Anthrax’s faint breath of laughter before she swooped in and pressed her lips to that same nipple, suckling daintily while her hand moved to palm the other breast. She found herself groaning at the sensation, not quite as firm as she might have liked, deliberately teasing, and Anthrax moved her mouth to lay kisses over her collarbone, moving far too slowly until she finally reached the other nipple. This time the pressure was more insistent, and Ebola almost cried out when she felt the sudden scrape of teeth.
Anthrax’s free hand began to drift lower, sweeping back and forth over her belly and around to the barely-there curve of her hip, over the top of her thigh. Ebola knew she was moaning, uncontrollable sounds that seemed dangerous in the darkness, but couldn’t bring herself to care. She was calling out for the warmth, the light, to return. Begging for the heat of the sun and of Anthrax’s mouth,
Eventually Anthrax’s questing hand pressed hard against her and she rolled her hips, aiming to increase the pressure on her throbbing clit. One probing finger soon found her, stroking slowly until she gasped with frustration and thrust upwards. Anthrax just pushed back with the heel of her hand before increasing her pace, clever fingers dipping down to her entrance every now and then. Ebola was soon writhing beneath her, head rolling back and forth over the pillow as she fought to keep from crying out loud. But Anthrax’s practised touches were designed to drive her beyond her limits, and she couldn’t hold back a long, loud groan as her orgasm tore through her, her back arching up enough to dislodge Anthrax’s mouth from her breast.
As she tried to catch her breath, Anthrax slid back up to kiss her, deep and messy, before wrapping her arms tightly around Ebola’s waist.
“I don’t know if I’ll survive the night,” Ebola whispered to her in the darkness. Anthrax pressed her lips to Ebola’s shoulder.
”Then we’ll have to keep going until the sun comes up.”