Fic! Mirror Dance
May. 25th, 2011 12:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
letterbladeOHMIGAWD GUYS I WON A ROUND OF KINK_LAS WHUT.
(This will nicely distract me from the fact that in RL, things fall apart. Seriously. Since Monday, I've lost a rear view mirror to a drive-by douchebag, had my phone die, and chipped a molar. WHUT.)
So I have a batch of catch-up to do with reposting ficlets from kink_las, which I've been trying (and failing) to consistently do. But I will jump ahead in the queue and repost this one here, because I'm on a KH kick and because, hey, it won, so it might not suck as much as some of the other shit I've written for kink_las recently.
Title: Mirror Dance
Fandom: Kingdom Hearts
Rating: pr0nz
Summary: When you have your nobody inside you, looking in mirrors can be interesting. Kairi/Naminé.
Notes: Originally written for the kink_las comm on LJ, with the challenge element of sixty-nine. I expected it to tank; it won that round. (From my point of view, it suffered a lot from this-was-beautiful-in-my-head-but-didn't-translate-to-prose syndrome. I think other writertypes will know what I mean? Anyway.)
Summer evenings are long and slow on Destiny Islands, with the heat of the sun fading in the salty wind from the ocean, the sky painted blood orange and plum, and the air heady with orchids and birds of paradise. The world is soaked with beauty like a sponge, Kairi thinks, and the slightest motion wrings it out, dripping, to dribble over whatever lies beneath its skies. She's alone in her room, windowshades open and lamps off, as the sun slips behind the sea, and her schoolbooks and jewelry boxes and sponge-painted walls all glow.
She sits, naked, and watches herself in her mirror.
She'd gotten it, gilt-framed and larger than her, when she'd come home from the World that Never Was with her Nobody inside her. Her shadow, reflection, other self--she could never quite describe what Naminé was. Only that with Naminé curled inside her heart, they were complete. They were each other and themselves, all at once, and sometimes, in her mirror, she'd see Naminé instead of Kairi, Naminé's plain white room instead of Kairi's colorful walls.
Now, in the late sunset, she sees herself, Kairi. She's been doing this a lot these days, because her body's changing, new-blossoming, strange and magical. Lean muscle in her island-tan arms, from Keyblade training. Breasts larger than she remembered, nipples darker. The curve to her hips, the thick curl of auburn hair between her legs. Glimpses of damp brown folds as she shifts and spreads her legs.
"Hello, me," she whispers. She's high on beauty and more than a little turned on, and her body looks new and enticing. Light glints pale off the mirror. White walls and white ceiling and white flowers in a white vase. Snowdrops in the fading summer heat. Kairi lets her head fall back, eyes half-lidded, as reality blurs, and it isn't even alarming anymore, not really.
"Hello," Naminé whispers.
"Didn't mean to wake you up."
"No." Naminé ducks her head, blonde hair swinging, and Kairi isn't sure whether it's happening in the real world, inside her heart, or nowhere at all, just that Naminé's hair is soft and pale and could use a trim. "It's okay. It's beautiful here." A pause, and a tiny, impish smile. "You're beautiful."
Kairi opens her eyes, and Naminé sits beside her on her bed, reflection flickering, half-solid. Her skin's nearly white, ghost-pale next to Kairi's tan. Naminé, who'd been locked alone in a windowless room for the first weeks of her existence. Naminé, to whom freedom is a strip of sunlight on the floor.
Naminé, Kairi's learned, exists exactly as much as she wants to. Which, most of the time, is barely at all. Folded into Kairi's heart, she'll never be alone again, and if she loses pieces of her identity sometimes, well, being Naminé is not always easy, or good. But here, now, in the darkness, she solidifies, separate, but her slim hand is wrapped around Kairi's. Never alone.
Kairi turns, and looks into her face, and smiles.
When they kiss, Kairi can close her eyes and feel everything. Her own body, Naminé's body, hands and lips; it's overwhelming, delicious, and they turn each other inside out and join into one, reality flickering around them.
They look in their mirror, and Naminé slips out of her little white dress. She's grown too, though her arms are thinner, paler, no muscle there. She's slim, soft, cool to the touch. Nipples pale pink where Kairi's are dusky dark.
"May I?" Kairi asks softly, and Naminé laughs, and Kairi remembers touching herself the other night, sliding hungry fingers over her breasts, between her legs. Naminé thinks there isn't even a difference, and because she thinks that, so does Kairi.
Curls damp under their fingers, and it doesn't matter whether they're blonde or auburn. Naminé kisses her belly, kisses her legs, artist's hands soft and teasing, and Kairi rolls on her back and tastes the sweat and musk on her own thigh through Naminé's mouth, and--
Kairi had been wondering what it would feel like, and Naminé must have known. Things aren't that serious with the boys yet--Riku's awkward, Sora's oblivious, neither of them has ducked his head between her legs--and Naminé's mouth is soft and wet, and pleasure sparks through her spine, slow and aching and more intense than anything she's ever felt. Kairi moans, and Naminé echoes it, humming against her body, and she can barely even think. Tugs at Naminé's legs because something isn't perfect yet. Until she's sprawled atop her, Kairi's hands on the curve of her thin waist, Kairi's tongue exploring. And maybe it's the resonance, maybe it's just that Naminé's body is nothing but a magical shadow of Kairi's, but they taste exactly the same. Tasting both. Feeling both. A perfect circle, closed and pulsing, until time doesn't matter, until everything is real, even Naminé.
One of them slips fingers inside the other and feels them inside herself. One of them sucks, hard, and feels the intense pang of pleasure in her own body. One of them digs fingers into her shuddering hips to hold herself still, cries out nonsense, tastes warm sweet-salt spurting on her tongue, and it's one long orgasm passed between them, resonating, each setting the other off until the pleasure's so overwhelming that it hurts. Can't move, can't think. Darkness blurring her vision. Sprawl exhausted in the tangled sheets. Wet spot under her back.
Invisible hands draw damp patterns on her belly, and Kairi looks out at the rising moon and strokes her own hair in the afterglow. Naminé will feel it, she believes. Naminé will feel love and happiness; Naminé deserves to, just like a real person. And if Kairi's belief is strong enough to bring Sora back from the dead, it's strong enough for this. Nobodies can't feel anything, but Naminé will feel love.
A pale ghost curls exhausted inside her heart, and Kairi looks at her darkened mirror, and in her reflection, there is bliss.
(This will nicely distract me from the fact that in RL, things fall apart. Seriously. Since Monday, I've lost a rear view mirror to a drive-by douchebag, had my phone die, and chipped a molar. WHUT.)
So I have a batch of catch-up to do with reposting ficlets from kink_las, which I've been trying (and failing) to consistently do. But I will jump ahead in the queue and repost this one here, because I'm on a KH kick and because, hey, it won, so it might not suck as much as some of the other shit I've written for kink_las recently.
Title: Mirror Dance
Fandom: Kingdom Hearts
Rating: pr0nz
Summary: When you have your nobody inside you, looking in mirrors can be interesting. Kairi/Naminé.
Notes: Originally written for the kink_las comm on LJ, with the challenge element of sixty-nine. I expected it to tank; it won that round. (From my point of view, it suffered a lot from this-was-beautiful-in-my-head-but-didn't-translate-to-prose syndrome. I think other writertypes will know what I mean? Anyway.)
Mirror Dance
Summer evenings are long and slow on Destiny Islands, with the heat of the sun fading in the salty wind from the ocean, the sky painted blood orange and plum, and the air heady with orchids and birds of paradise. The world is soaked with beauty like a sponge, Kairi thinks, and the slightest motion wrings it out, dripping, to dribble over whatever lies beneath its skies. She's alone in her room, windowshades open and lamps off, as the sun slips behind the sea, and her schoolbooks and jewelry boxes and sponge-painted walls all glow.
She sits, naked, and watches herself in her mirror.
She'd gotten it, gilt-framed and larger than her, when she'd come home from the World that Never Was with her Nobody inside her. Her shadow, reflection, other self--she could never quite describe what Naminé was. Only that with Naminé curled inside her heart, they were complete. They were each other and themselves, all at once, and sometimes, in her mirror, she'd see Naminé instead of Kairi, Naminé's plain white room instead of Kairi's colorful walls.
Now, in the late sunset, she sees herself, Kairi. She's been doing this a lot these days, because her body's changing, new-blossoming, strange and magical. Lean muscle in her island-tan arms, from Keyblade training. Breasts larger than she remembered, nipples darker. The curve to her hips, the thick curl of auburn hair between her legs. Glimpses of damp brown folds as she shifts and spreads her legs.
"Hello, me," she whispers. She's high on beauty and more than a little turned on, and her body looks new and enticing. Light glints pale off the mirror. White walls and white ceiling and white flowers in a white vase. Snowdrops in the fading summer heat. Kairi lets her head fall back, eyes half-lidded, as reality blurs, and it isn't even alarming anymore, not really.
"Hello," Naminé whispers.
"Didn't mean to wake you up."
"No." Naminé ducks her head, blonde hair swinging, and Kairi isn't sure whether it's happening in the real world, inside her heart, or nowhere at all, just that Naminé's hair is soft and pale and could use a trim. "It's okay. It's beautiful here." A pause, and a tiny, impish smile. "You're beautiful."
Kairi opens her eyes, and Naminé sits beside her on her bed, reflection flickering, half-solid. Her skin's nearly white, ghost-pale next to Kairi's tan. Naminé, who'd been locked alone in a windowless room for the first weeks of her existence. Naminé, to whom freedom is a strip of sunlight on the floor.
Naminé, Kairi's learned, exists exactly as much as she wants to. Which, most of the time, is barely at all. Folded into Kairi's heart, she'll never be alone again, and if she loses pieces of her identity sometimes, well, being Naminé is not always easy, or good. But here, now, in the darkness, she solidifies, separate, but her slim hand is wrapped around Kairi's. Never alone.
Kairi turns, and looks into her face, and smiles.
When they kiss, Kairi can close her eyes and feel everything. Her own body, Naminé's body, hands and lips; it's overwhelming, delicious, and they turn each other inside out and join into one, reality flickering around them.
They look in their mirror, and Naminé slips out of her little white dress. She's grown too, though her arms are thinner, paler, no muscle there. She's slim, soft, cool to the touch. Nipples pale pink where Kairi's are dusky dark.
"May I?" Kairi asks softly, and Naminé laughs, and Kairi remembers touching herself the other night, sliding hungry fingers over her breasts, between her legs. Naminé thinks there isn't even a difference, and because she thinks that, so does Kairi.
Curls damp under their fingers, and it doesn't matter whether they're blonde or auburn. Naminé kisses her belly, kisses her legs, artist's hands soft and teasing, and Kairi rolls on her back and tastes the sweat and musk on her own thigh through Naminé's mouth, and--
Kairi had been wondering what it would feel like, and Naminé must have known. Things aren't that serious with the boys yet--Riku's awkward, Sora's oblivious, neither of them has ducked his head between her legs--and Naminé's mouth is soft and wet, and pleasure sparks through her spine, slow and aching and more intense than anything she's ever felt. Kairi moans, and Naminé echoes it, humming against her body, and she can barely even think. Tugs at Naminé's legs because something isn't perfect yet. Until she's sprawled atop her, Kairi's hands on the curve of her thin waist, Kairi's tongue exploring. And maybe it's the resonance, maybe it's just that Naminé's body is nothing but a magical shadow of Kairi's, but they taste exactly the same. Tasting both. Feeling both. A perfect circle, closed and pulsing, until time doesn't matter, until everything is real, even Naminé.
One of them slips fingers inside the other and feels them inside herself. One of them sucks, hard, and feels the intense pang of pleasure in her own body. One of them digs fingers into her shuddering hips to hold herself still, cries out nonsense, tastes warm sweet-salt spurting on her tongue, and it's one long orgasm passed between them, resonating, each setting the other off until the pleasure's so overwhelming that it hurts. Can't move, can't think. Darkness blurring her vision. Sprawl exhausted in the tangled sheets. Wet spot under her back.
Invisible hands draw damp patterns on her belly, and Kairi looks out at the rising moon and strokes her own hair in the afterglow. Naminé will feel it, she believes. Naminé will feel love and happiness; Naminé deserves to, just like a real person. And if Kairi's belief is strong enough to bring Sora back from the dead, it's strong enough for this. Nobodies can't feel anything, but Naminé will feel love.
A pale ghost curls exhausted inside her heart, and Kairi looks at her darkened mirror, and in her reflection, there is bliss.
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Date: May. 25th, 2011 08:38 pm (UTC)