the colour of you, anthrax/ebola, nc-17
Title: the colour of you
Author: likecharity
Pairing: Anthrax/Ebola
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Femslash. Biting, scratching, waxplay...
Summary: Prompt: Anthrax / Ebola, not impressed with Howard and Vince, go home get it on themselves. Biting with the fangs and scratching and possibly in their dark flat they have candles = hot wax?
A/N: Written for the Boosh Anonymous Kink Meme, but I don't care about being anonymous for this one. XD It was a lot of fun to write, once I got past the "I can't write smut about these characters, they've got such ridiculous names!" thing.
"Those guys were a fucking joke," Ebola mutters angrily as she slams the door behind her, tearing off her hat and ripping open the buckles on her boots. She kicks them off and stomps through to the bedroom.
Anthrax follows, coming up behind her and leaning in close. "Don't need them," she murmurs. "We've got each other."
Ebola turns her head slightly, feeling Anthrax's hot breath against her neck, the graze of the other girl's fangs against her skin. "Good thing, too," she says softly. "I never want to go out on a date with a man again."
"You'll never even want to look at another man once I'm done with you," Anthrax whispers, and Ebola tilts her head back, letting her eyes fall closed. Anthrax runs the points of her fangs along the delicate skin of Ebola's neck, then bites down suddenly, drawing two pinpricks of blood from her skin and a sharp cry from her mouth. Anthrax admires her work, looking at the two tiny little red punctures in the blonde's neck. They mirror the ones on the other side that she made before they left the flat earlier that night.
Ebola is pushed, face down, onto the bed, and she feels Anthrax tearing at her clothes, yanking down the zip of her dress and exposing the smooth, pale skin of her back. Anthrax strokes her gently at first, fingertips running along the skin, and then she scratches, dragging her sharp black nails down, leaving trails of white that quickly flush red. Ebola groans, lifting herself up on her hands and arching, and Anthrax flips her over, pulling the dress over her head and throwing it aside. She grabs Ebola's legs and pulls them apart from each other, then crawls up between them, dragging down the blonde's silky black knickers.
"You're wet for me," she murmurs, stroking the damp silk.
Ebola twists her head to look Anthrax in the eye. She nods.
Anthrax turns her over and kisses her, hard, hands clutching at fistfuls of white-blonde hair, fangs nearly drawing blood as they nip at the thin skin of Ebola's bright red lips. She trails a hand down to Ebola's chest, pinching a rosy-pink nipple between her thumb and forefinger. Ebola whimpers against her lips, and Anthrax twists her fingers.
"Little slut," she sneers. "You're mine, aren't you?"
Ebola runs her tongue over her lips, smearing her blood-red lipstick further. She nods again and spreads her legs wider. "Please, Annie. Fuck me."
Anthrax suddenly leaps to her feet and heads to the other side of the room, rummaging around in a cupboard for a few seconds and then returning to the bed with a box of matches.
"What are you doing?"
"Lighting some candles," says Anthrax, striking a match and holding the flame up in front of her face before bringing it to the wick of a tall, thin red candle at the bedside. It flares and flashes with light, and she repeats this with another.
"No, what are you doing?" demands Ebola, sitting up and tossing back her hair in annoyance. "I don't care about candles. Come back here. I want to fuck."
Anthrax doesn't respond. She finishes lighting the several candles that litter the bedside table and then turns her attention back to the pouting blonde in bed with her. "Aw, is someone getting impatient?" she whispers, sliding her hand along Ebola's leg, making the other girl shiver with anticipation. Just as she reaches the juncture of Ebola's thighs, feeling the heat and the wetness there, she draws her hand back, grinning.
"Patience is a virtue, Ebola."
"Since when do you care about fucking virtues?"
Anthrax reaches out, stroking Ebola's warm, flushed cheeks before pressing an extended finger to her lips. "Quiet," she says in a low voice, "don't make me shut you up myself."
Ebola opens her mouth and bites down on Anthrax's finger hard, teeth sinking in, but Anthrax seems barely able to feel it. She doesn't struggle, but instead brings her other hand down between Ebola's legs, sliding her fingers along the girl's slick, hot cunt, and Ebola groans at the contact, her mouth falling open as she relaxes her jaw. Anthrax grins and makes to move her hand away, but Ebola is quicker, clamping her thighs shut around it and bucking her hips, rubbing herself against the hand between her legs. She moans again, her eyes falling shut as she pushes forwards, pressing her throbbing clit against Anthrax's palm and grinding against it, and then-
"Fuck!" she cries out, gasping, her eyes flying open to see a large, dark droplet of wax on her thigh, and Anthrax before her with the tall red candle in her hand.
She relaxes, and Anthrax does it again, sending trickles of the hot, red wax down Ebola's thighs. Ebola shudders and clutches the sheets into her fists. Anthrax draws her hand back and gently pushes Ebola down onto her back on the bed. She holds the candle over the slight curve of Ebola's smooth white belly and, with a tilt of her wrist, the candle dribbles the melted wax, droplets hitting Ebola's skin. Ebola swears again, hissing, running her fingers over the quickly-drying wax, and Anthrax slaps her hand away and holds the candle higher, and the wax spills and splatters, spreading out across Ebola's stomach. Her muscles quiver and tense, and the hardening wax curls upwards with the movements under her skin.
"Fuck," Ebola whispers. "Oh, fuck."
She stretches out, thighs rubbing against each other, desperate for some friction.
"Shh," Anthrax murmurs, bringing the candle further forwards, letting a droplet of the hot wax fall and hit the skin between Ebola's breasts. The skin blossoms pink around it, and Anthrax shifts, letting the built-up liquid fall freely from the candle's tip, pouring it over one of Ebola's breasts, all but coating it in burgundy wax.
Ebola cries out, squirming beneath her, and Anthrax bares her teeth, flicking her tongue across her fangs. "Shh," she hisses, then grabs Ebola's discarded knickers and pushes them into the blonde's open mouth. She knows Ebola could take them out if she wanted to - she hasn't got her hands tied, not this time anyway - but Ebola keeps still, teeth clamping down around the silk, and Anthrax smiles, satisfied, turning her attention back to the candle in her hand.
She dribbles stripes of the wax across Ebola's other breast, across the sensitive nipple, delighting in the way Ebola's body jerks with each droplet and the way her whimpers are muffled into the silk knickers in her mouth.
"Good girl," she whispers, stroking Ebola's thigh gently, fingers edging ever nearer to her aching cunt.
Anthrax blows out the flame suddenly and returns the candle to the bedside table, unable to hold back any longer. She runs her fingers along the hardened, warm red wax on Ebola's stomach, bringing her hand down further, down to Ebola's cunt, and finally she thrusts two fingers inside her, feeling her clench around them. She settles down between Ebola's legs, nudging her thighs further apart and spreading the slick folds to press her lips to her swollen clit.
Anthrax reaches down and tears at her tights, ripping ladders in the fragile cobweb pattern of them. She thrusts her hand into her own underwear, pressing her fingers on her cunt, sinking a finger inside herself, pushing the heel of her hand against her clit.
Ebola clenches her fists around handfuls of the sheets, gripping and pulling at them, tearing the undersheet free from the mattress. Anthrax thrusts her fingers in and out of her and she groans into the makeshift gag in her mouth, tasting herself on the wet silk. Anthrax licks at her clit, tongue flicking out and lapping at it before her lips close again, sucking softly and then harder, sometimes careful with the fangs and sometimes not.
And then suddenly it all stops. The knickers are ripped from her mouth and the second she opens her eyes, her vision is surrounded by black tulle and lace as Anthrax lowers herself down onto her face. She feels the soft, wet heat of Anthrax's cunt against her lips before anything else and she pushes her tongue out immediately, up against it, licking and sucking and tasting. She can feel Anthrax stretching out on top of her, the scratchy material of the other girl's dress against the sensitive skin of her stomach. And then a tongue is pressed against her clit, and fingers are sliding inside her, thrusting and curling, and she groans, making Anthrax buck her hips and push down harder into her mouth.
Ebola's close already, arching into the touch, lifting her hips and writhing shamelessly beneath Anthrax. Her skin still stings from the heat of the wax, now flaking off with every movement she makes, and she can feel Anthrax digging her nails into her thighs. Anthrax thrusts a third finger inside her and she pushes her tongue up into the other girl's cunt desperately as she thrashes on the bed, coming, shuddering. Anthrax doesn't let up, fucking her with her fingers until she's completely spent.
Anthrax straightens up, sitting on Ebola's face, and Ebola runs her tongue over the other girl's clit but she's exhausted, unable to keep going. Anthrax grabs at her breasts, pinching her nipples again, making her sore, and grinds against her mouth, riding her. Ebola reaches upwards, hands clutching Anthrax's arse, dragging her fingernails across the skin until Anthrax is shouting out, clenching and convulsing, coming hard. Wetness seeps between Ebola's lips and she runs her tongue across her teeth as Anthrax clambers off her with shaky legs.
"You're right," Ebola whispers, running her fingers through her hair. "I never want to look at another man again."
Anthrax frowns. "That might be a problem," she says, "because I've arranged a date with a couple of friends of those guys. One of them's a gorilla and the other's a shaman, but-"
Ebola grits her teeth. She looks down at her body, her white skin splattered with red. "Okay," she interrupts. "That's okay."
"Really?"
"Yeah," Ebola says, nodding as she begins to peel the hardened wax from her tender skin. "But next time, I'm so using the wax on you."
Author: likecharity
Pairing: Anthrax/Ebola
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Femslash. Biting, scratching, waxplay...
Summary: Prompt: Anthrax / Ebola, not impressed with Howard and Vince, go home get it on themselves. Biting with the fangs and scratching and possibly in their dark flat they have candles = hot wax?
A/N: Written for the Boosh Anonymous Kink Meme, but I don't care about being anonymous for this one. XD It was a lot of fun to write, once I got past the "I can't write smut about these characters, they've got such ridiculous names!" thing.
"Those guys were a fucking joke," Ebola mutters angrily as she slams the door behind her, tearing off her hat and ripping open the buckles on her boots. She kicks them off and stomps through to the bedroom.
Anthrax follows, coming up behind her and leaning in close. "Don't need them," she murmurs. "We've got each other."
Ebola turns her head slightly, feeling Anthrax's hot breath against her neck, the graze of the other girl's fangs against her skin. "Good thing, too," she says softly. "I never want to go out on a date with a man again."
"You'll never even want to look at another man once I'm done with you," Anthrax whispers, and Ebola tilts her head back, letting her eyes fall closed. Anthrax runs the points of her fangs along the delicate skin of Ebola's neck, then bites down suddenly, drawing two pinpricks of blood from her skin and a sharp cry from her mouth. Anthrax admires her work, looking at the two tiny little red punctures in the blonde's neck. They mirror the ones on the other side that she made before they left the flat earlier that night.
Ebola is pushed, face down, onto the bed, and she feels Anthrax tearing at her clothes, yanking down the zip of her dress and exposing the smooth, pale skin of her back. Anthrax strokes her gently at first, fingertips running along the skin, and then she scratches, dragging her sharp black nails down, leaving trails of white that quickly flush red. Ebola groans, lifting herself up on her hands and arching, and Anthrax flips her over, pulling the dress over her head and throwing it aside. She grabs Ebola's legs and pulls them apart from each other, then crawls up between them, dragging down the blonde's silky black knickers.
"You're wet for me," she murmurs, stroking the damp silk.
Ebola twists her head to look Anthrax in the eye. She nods.
Anthrax turns her over and kisses her, hard, hands clutching at fistfuls of white-blonde hair, fangs nearly drawing blood as they nip at the thin skin of Ebola's bright red lips. She trails a hand down to Ebola's chest, pinching a rosy-pink nipple between her thumb and forefinger. Ebola whimpers against her lips, and Anthrax twists her fingers.
"Little slut," she sneers. "You're mine, aren't you?"
Ebola runs her tongue over her lips, smearing her blood-red lipstick further. She nods again and spreads her legs wider. "Please, Annie. Fuck me."
Anthrax suddenly leaps to her feet and heads to the other side of the room, rummaging around in a cupboard for a few seconds and then returning to the bed with a box of matches.
"What are you doing?"
"Lighting some candles," says Anthrax, striking a match and holding the flame up in front of her face before bringing it to the wick of a tall, thin red candle at the bedside. It flares and flashes with light, and she repeats this with another.
"No, what are you doing?" demands Ebola, sitting up and tossing back her hair in annoyance. "I don't care about candles. Come back here. I want to fuck."
Anthrax doesn't respond. She finishes lighting the several candles that litter the bedside table and then turns her attention back to the pouting blonde in bed with her. "Aw, is someone getting impatient?" she whispers, sliding her hand along Ebola's leg, making the other girl shiver with anticipation. Just as she reaches the juncture of Ebola's thighs, feeling the heat and the wetness there, she draws her hand back, grinning.
"Patience is a virtue, Ebola."
"Since when do you care about fucking virtues?"
Anthrax reaches out, stroking Ebola's warm, flushed cheeks before pressing an extended finger to her lips. "Quiet," she says in a low voice, "don't make me shut you up myself."
Ebola opens her mouth and bites down on Anthrax's finger hard, teeth sinking in, but Anthrax seems barely able to feel it. She doesn't struggle, but instead brings her other hand down between Ebola's legs, sliding her fingers along the girl's slick, hot cunt, and Ebola groans at the contact, her mouth falling open as she relaxes her jaw. Anthrax grins and makes to move her hand away, but Ebola is quicker, clamping her thighs shut around it and bucking her hips, rubbing herself against the hand between her legs. She moans again, her eyes falling shut as she pushes forwards, pressing her throbbing clit against Anthrax's palm and grinding against it, and then-
"Fuck!" she cries out, gasping, her eyes flying open to see a large, dark droplet of wax on her thigh, and Anthrax before her with the tall red candle in her hand.
She relaxes, and Anthrax does it again, sending trickles of the hot, red wax down Ebola's thighs. Ebola shudders and clutches the sheets into her fists. Anthrax draws her hand back and gently pushes Ebola down onto her back on the bed. She holds the candle over the slight curve of Ebola's smooth white belly and, with a tilt of her wrist, the candle dribbles the melted wax, droplets hitting Ebola's skin. Ebola swears again, hissing, running her fingers over the quickly-drying wax, and Anthrax slaps her hand away and holds the candle higher, and the wax spills and splatters, spreading out across Ebola's stomach. Her muscles quiver and tense, and the hardening wax curls upwards with the movements under her skin.
"Fuck," Ebola whispers. "Oh, fuck."
She stretches out, thighs rubbing against each other, desperate for some friction.
"Shh," Anthrax murmurs, bringing the candle further forwards, letting a droplet of the hot wax fall and hit the skin between Ebola's breasts. The skin blossoms pink around it, and Anthrax shifts, letting the built-up liquid fall freely from the candle's tip, pouring it over one of Ebola's breasts, all but coating it in burgundy wax.
Ebola cries out, squirming beneath her, and Anthrax bares her teeth, flicking her tongue across her fangs. "Shh," she hisses, then grabs Ebola's discarded knickers and pushes them into the blonde's open mouth. She knows Ebola could take them out if she wanted to - she hasn't got her hands tied, not this time anyway - but Ebola keeps still, teeth clamping down around the silk, and Anthrax smiles, satisfied, turning her attention back to the candle in her hand.
She dribbles stripes of the wax across Ebola's other breast, across the sensitive nipple, delighting in the way Ebola's body jerks with each droplet and the way her whimpers are muffled into the silk knickers in her mouth.
"Good girl," she whispers, stroking Ebola's thigh gently, fingers edging ever nearer to her aching cunt.
Anthrax blows out the flame suddenly and returns the candle to the bedside table, unable to hold back any longer. She runs her fingers along the hardened, warm red wax on Ebola's stomach, bringing her hand down further, down to Ebola's cunt, and finally she thrusts two fingers inside her, feeling her clench around them. She settles down between Ebola's legs, nudging her thighs further apart and spreading the slick folds to press her lips to her swollen clit.
Anthrax reaches down and tears at her tights, ripping ladders in the fragile cobweb pattern of them. She thrusts her hand into her own underwear, pressing her fingers on her cunt, sinking a finger inside herself, pushing the heel of her hand against her clit.
Ebola clenches her fists around handfuls of the sheets, gripping and pulling at them, tearing the undersheet free from the mattress. Anthrax thrusts her fingers in and out of her and she groans into the makeshift gag in her mouth, tasting herself on the wet silk. Anthrax licks at her clit, tongue flicking out and lapping at it before her lips close again, sucking softly and then harder, sometimes careful with the fangs and sometimes not.
And then suddenly it all stops. The knickers are ripped from her mouth and the second she opens her eyes, her vision is surrounded by black tulle and lace as Anthrax lowers herself down onto her face. She feels the soft, wet heat of Anthrax's cunt against her lips before anything else and she pushes her tongue out immediately, up against it, licking and sucking and tasting. She can feel Anthrax stretching out on top of her, the scratchy material of the other girl's dress against the sensitive skin of her stomach. And then a tongue is pressed against her clit, and fingers are sliding inside her, thrusting and curling, and she groans, making Anthrax buck her hips and push down harder into her mouth.
Ebola's close already, arching into the touch, lifting her hips and writhing shamelessly beneath Anthrax. Her skin still stings from the heat of the wax, now flaking off with every movement she makes, and she can feel Anthrax digging her nails into her thighs. Anthrax thrusts a third finger inside her and she pushes her tongue up into the other girl's cunt desperately as she thrashes on the bed, coming, shuddering. Anthrax doesn't let up, fucking her with her fingers until she's completely spent.
Anthrax straightens up, sitting on Ebola's face, and Ebola runs her tongue over the other girl's clit but she's exhausted, unable to keep going. Anthrax grabs at her breasts, pinching her nipples again, making her sore, and grinds against her mouth, riding her. Ebola reaches upwards, hands clutching Anthrax's arse, dragging her fingernails across the skin until Anthrax is shouting out, clenching and convulsing, coming hard. Wetness seeps between Ebola's lips and she runs her tongue across her teeth as Anthrax clambers off her with shaky legs.
"You're right," Ebola whispers, running her fingers through her hair. "I never want to look at another man again."
Anthrax frowns. "That might be a problem," she says, "because I've arranged a date with a couple of friends of those guys. One of them's a gorilla and the other's a shaman, but-"
Ebola grits her teeth. She looks down at her body, her white skin splattered with red. "Okay," she interrupts. "That's okay."
"Really?"
"Yeah," Ebola says, nodding as she begins to peel the hardened wax from her tender skin. "But next time, I'm so using the wax on you."