storypaint (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
storypaint) wrote2009-01-05 01:49 pm
storypaint) wrote2009-01-05 01:49 pm
left your fingers in my skin (Susan/Angua)
Title: left your fingers in my skin
Comm:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
rounds_of_kink
Fandom: Discworld
Pairing/character: Susan Sto Helit/Sergeant Angua
Rating: PG for sexual implications
Prompt: Bargaining with Death is impossible, but what about his granddaughter?
Kink: bargaining, desperation
Notes/Warnings: Heavily implied femmeslash, a few Pratchett-like footnotes, Carrot/Angua as other primary pairing.
Excerpt: So when Angua looked up and saw the dark apparition, her heart dropped into her stomach and she started growling, a low canine warning. There was no point to it, but it was an inescapable visceral reaction.
Death does not bargain; that's not part of the job description. In any case, it is nearly impossible to find something that a seven-foot-tall skeleton would be interested in.*
*Cats, of course, but the quickest way to anger Death was to threaten the life of a cat, and it certainly wouldn't do anything towards lengthening your lifespan.
So when Angua looked up and saw the dark apparition, her heart dropped into her stomach and she started growling, a low canine warning. There was no point to it, but it was an inescapable visceral reaction.
He's mine and you can't have him, Angua thought, and another part of her wondered what Carrot thought of her growling. That it was comforting, she hoped, but she doubted he was thinking about very much more than his knife wound.
They weren't even on duty, for goodness' sake. It had been one of their not-dates, and they'd both simply leaped when the shopowner had shouted, "Unlicensed thief!"
They chased because they were coppers, and Carrot was the best, and he'd ran the fastest. And here he was with his guts pouring out onto the cobbles, and she couldn't do anything. It was a mark of her utter desperation that she could see Death at all.
She growled and Death laughed. It wasn't an unsympathetic laugh. It was a woman's laugh, but she didn't dare to hope until Susan threw back her hood. Her face was oddly angular in the moonlight and Angua's eyes slid across it without quite seeing.
"ANGUA," Susan said, and Angua growled loudly again, crouched over Carrot as if her protests mattered. Why had she given Susan her name, anyway? Just because they both came to Biers and they were women and they had bad ancestry--
But Angua was a cop and there was always a certain barrier between coppers and regular people.*
*Well, "regular." As in, people who weren't coppers.
"Out on your grandfather's business?" Angua asked, forcing the wolf back with great effort. If she changed here, there would be talk. She'd be blamed somehow for Carrot-- for Carrot's-- she'd be blamed. Mobs were quick to form when these things happened, and Vimes would be no help at all.
He was the Commander, but it was Carrot who ensouled the Watch. Vimes was the Watch, but Carrot was all the people they watched over. Without him, they'd fall to pieces again.
Susan didn't reply, kneeling delicately down beside Angua, who couldn't place the clicking sound of bony knees against the pavement.*
*Death was far away tonight, and the further he went, the more that Susan took his seeming. Her skin would itch all day tomorrow when he came back.
"You can't," Angua howled, her body shaking with sobs, as Susan's pale fingers reached towards the hole in Carrot's shirt. She hated herself for doing it-- she wasn't one of those sappy girls, she wouldn't die if Carrot did, but--
Ankh-Morpork needed him. And she wanted him.
Susan paused without touching Carrot, who had already grown alarmingly still, a fact that Angua was trying very hard to ignore, and deliberately, skeletal fingers stroked the tears away from Angua's cheek.
"Susan," Angua sobbed. "Susan, Susan..." she breathed in the instant before bloodless lips took hers, and she tasted her own tears, still shaking in shock. She didn't know how to breathe when Susan kissed her. Carrot was nothing like this-- gentlemanly all the way. There was something sad and dark and possessive in the way Susan's lips touched her skin, exploring underneath Angua's collar to the dip in her collarbones.
She was so cold, but Angua let her, wincing when Susan bit down, ever so gently, on Angua's shoulder where it met her neck.
"ONLY ONCE," Susan said. "...Only once." And Angua cried tears of relief, feeling the rain beginning to splatter down on the cobblestones around them, hearing Carrot choke on a raindrop and then inhale slowly.
When she opened her eyes, Susan was gone, and Angua threw Carrot over her shoulder and headed for the Watch station.
The scar on her shoulder never quite healed, a puckered reminder of a day Carrot never quite remembered in full. Sometimes Angua dreamed of skeletal fingers stroking her hair, her neck, her breast, her most secret places, the sharp pain, the dark release.
But that was enough. Only once.
Comm:
rounds_of_kinkFandom: Discworld
Pairing/character: Susan Sto Helit/Sergeant Angua
Rating: PG for sexual implications
Prompt: Bargaining with Death is impossible, but what about his granddaughter?
Kink: bargaining, desperation
Notes/Warnings: Heavily implied femmeslash, a few Pratchett-like footnotes, Carrot/Angua as other primary pairing.
Excerpt: So when Angua looked up and saw the dark apparition, her heart dropped into her stomach and she started growling, a low canine warning. There was no point to it, but it was an inescapable visceral reaction.
Death does not bargain; that's not part of the job description. In any case, it is nearly impossible to find something that a seven-foot-tall skeleton would be interested in.*
*Cats, of course, but the quickest way to anger Death was to threaten the life of a cat, and it certainly wouldn't do anything towards lengthening your lifespan.
So when Angua looked up and saw the dark apparition, her heart dropped into her stomach and she started growling, a low canine warning. There was no point to it, but it was an inescapable visceral reaction.
He's mine and you can't have him, Angua thought, and another part of her wondered what Carrot thought of her growling. That it was comforting, she hoped, but she doubted he was thinking about very much more than his knife wound.
They weren't even on duty, for goodness' sake. It had been one of their not-dates, and they'd both simply leaped when the shopowner had shouted, "Unlicensed thief!"
They chased because they were coppers, and Carrot was the best, and he'd ran the fastest. And here he was with his guts pouring out onto the cobbles, and she couldn't do anything. It was a mark of her utter desperation that she could see Death at all.
She growled and Death laughed. It wasn't an unsympathetic laugh. It was a woman's laugh, but she didn't dare to hope until Susan threw back her hood. Her face was oddly angular in the moonlight and Angua's eyes slid across it without quite seeing.
"ANGUA," Susan said, and Angua growled loudly again, crouched over Carrot as if her protests mattered. Why had she given Susan her name, anyway? Just because they both came to Biers and they were women and they had bad ancestry--
But Angua was a cop and there was always a certain barrier between coppers and regular people.*
*Well, "regular." As in, people who weren't coppers.
"Out on your grandfather's business?" Angua asked, forcing the wolf back with great effort. If she changed here, there would be talk. She'd be blamed somehow for Carrot-- for Carrot's-- she'd be blamed. Mobs were quick to form when these things happened, and Vimes would be no help at all.
He was the Commander, but it was Carrot who ensouled the Watch. Vimes was the Watch, but Carrot was all the people they watched over. Without him, they'd fall to pieces again.
Susan didn't reply, kneeling delicately down beside Angua, who couldn't place the clicking sound of bony knees against the pavement.*
*Death was far away tonight, and the further he went, the more that Susan took his seeming. Her skin would itch all day tomorrow when he came back.
"You can't," Angua howled, her body shaking with sobs, as Susan's pale fingers reached towards the hole in Carrot's shirt. She hated herself for doing it-- she wasn't one of those sappy girls, she wouldn't die if Carrot did, but--
Ankh-Morpork needed him. And she wanted him.
Susan paused without touching Carrot, who had already grown alarmingly still, a fact that Angua was trying very hard to ignore, and deliberately, skeletal fingers stroked the tears away from Angua's cheek.
"Susan," Angua sobbed. "Susan, Susan..." she breathed in the instant before bloodless lips took hers, and she tasted her own tears, still shaking in shock. She didn't know how to breathe when Susan kissed her. Carrot was nothing like this-- gentlemanly all the way. There was something sad and dark and possessive in the way Susan's lips touched her skin, exploring underneath Angua's collar to the dip in her collarbones.
She was so cold, but Angua let her, wincing when Susan bit down, ever so gently, on Angua's shoulder where it met her neck.
"ONLY ONCE," Susan said. "...Only once." And Angua cried tears of relief, feeling the rain beginning to splatter down on the cobblestones around them, hearing Carrot choke on a raindrop and then inhale slowly.
When she opened her eyes, Susan was gone, and Angua threw Carrot over her shoulder and headed for the Watch station.
The scar on her shoulder never quite healed, a puckered reminder of a day Carrot never quite remembered in full. Sometimes Angua dreamed of skeletal fingers stroking her hair, her neck, her breast, her most secret places, the sharp pain, the dark release.
But that was enough. Only once.