(Arrow) Leather-Scented Kiss
Title: Leather-Scented Kiss
Fandom: Arrow
Pairing: Nyssa/Sara
Rating: NC-17
Words: 1036
Notes: Costume kink. For Ladies Bingo, prompt "repeats and repetitions", and a prompt at comment_fic.
Summary: Sara's still fully dressed, but tonight Nyssa wants her that way.
It’s the same routine every night. Suiting up for the mission ahead, and this is the part of the job Sara likes best. There’s a rhythm to it, a comfort in the repetition: tightening the corset around her chest, drawing the pants up her legs, fastening her belt, tying her boots, tugging on her reinforced gloves. The jacket goes on last, the final piece of the puzzle, and Sara can feel Nyssa’s eyes on her the whole time.
It makes her feel hot beneath all that leather, skin heating up for the way Nyssa looks at her, like Sara’s something beautiful and desirable and precious.
They spend the night moving through shadows, stalking targets, cutting down those in their way. And Sara’s heart races the whole time, not from their duty to the League or the violence they’re surrounded by, but from anticipation.
Because once they return to their hotel or safehouse or wherever it is they happen to be holing up, she knows what comes next.
There’s a repetition to that as well, to the way Nyssa will haul her close and kiss Sara like she wants to drown in her presence. They’ll strip together, Sara working backwards through her routine, jacket then gloves then boots then belt then pants then corset. Not stopping until they’re down to their skin, pressed together and breathing each other’s air, new bruises and future scars for their fingers to explore.
That’s what Sara’s expecting on this night as well, but Nyssa’s hand lands on Sara’s shoulder, her gaze mischievous. “Wait,” she says simply, shattering the usual routine of repetition and leaving Sara off-balance and loving it.
She smiles when Nyssa pulls her in by the collar of her jacket, because that’s familiar. But this time when Nyssa touches her, she’s not tugging impatiently at Sara’s clothes, urging her to start taking them off. She presses her face to Sara’s shoulder instead, inhaling deeply, and Sara bites her lip and strokes Nyssa’s hair.
“What do you smell?” she asks Nyssa softly.
“The night,” Nyssa answers. “Smoke and the city and you. All wrapped up in leather.”
She tackles Sara to the bed, and Sara lets her. She rolls them for the hell of it but Sara’s still happy to wind up on her back, Nyssa looking down at her with hungry eyes. Nyssa’s already thrown off her weapons and her gauntlets, her bow leaning against the wall, but otherwise she stays as clothed as Sara is. Her hands, the only bared part of either of them, roam over Sara’s body, fingernails dragging over the corset, palms cupping Sara’s breasts and squeezing until she moans breathlessly.
“I want to be naked,” Sara gasps, and Nyssa squeezes her harder, making Sara buck up into the touch.
“Not yet,” Nyssa whispers, and her hands continue their journey. Her fingertips trail over the front of Sara’s jacket, tracing the lines of it, smoothing down her arms. She takes Sara’s hands, rubbing her thumb over the gloves, digging into the space between Sara’s knuckles.
“Please,” Sara murmurs. She doesn’t know what Nyssa’s doing, doesn’t know what she’s asking for, she just knows she wants more.
Nyssa’s attention turns to Sara’s hips, to following the pattern of crisscrossed leather down the front of her thighs. She strokes over Sara’s legs, and the touch is muted by the thick material but it still leaves Sara shivering.
“You’ll stay dressed for me, won’t you, beloved?” Nyssa’s watching Sara closely, watching the flutter of her eyelashes when Nyssa’s nails dig in a little more roughly at the tops of Sara’s thighs.
Sara smiles up at her. “I’m starting to think you have a fetish for leather,” she teases.
Nyssa only laughs, a soft and small sound that Sara always cherishes. “Perhaps I simply have a fetish for you,” she purrs, although Sara notices there’s no denial of the accusation. But if Nyssa’s not denying having a thing for Sara in leather, then there’s also the fact that Sara isn’t denying Nyssa’s request to stay clothed, even though she wants to strip everything off as quickly as possible, the usual routine be damned.
Nyssa’s hand moves higher, her fingers sliding between Sara’s legs, and she cries out as they press against her. Sara’s hips thrust up, and Nyssa rubs at her cunt through the leather, thumb pushing up across her folds, running up to her clit. The fabric pulls between Sara’s legs, and she feels her thighs falling open, the heels of her boots skidding over the bed.
“Please,” Sara moans. This time she definitely knows what she’s asking for, and Nyssa gives it to her, grinding the ball of her hand against Sara’s crotch. Working her harder and harder, and it doesn’t matter that the leather should dull the sensation, because Sara’s already soaked, her legs shaking.
Her back arches, and Nyssa leans over her, leaving kisses over the swell of her cleavage. She presses her mouth to the edge of Sara’s corset, teeth digging in half on the fabric and half on Sara’s skin, and her fingers push up hard against Sara’s cunt.
Sara’s gasping, everything in her seizing up tight, and she comes with the scent of leather all around her and Nyssa’s hair tickling her face.
The room swims for a long moment, and when she can focus again Nyssa’s kneeling over, straddling Sara’s lap. Her face is flushed, her pupils dilated, and she smiles at Sara’s expression, gently brushing a thumb over Sara’s cheekbone. “Perhaps I do have an appreciation for leather,” she admits.
“Fetish,” Sara corrects, grinning.
Nyssa smiles wider. “As you say,” she nods, and she swoops down to kiss Sara again, fast but sweet. “Will you indulge me further?”
Sara needs to get out of these clothes, to have a shower, to be naked already and have Nyssa naked beside her. But as appealing as that is, keeping Nyssa smiling like that is more appealing still.
She spreads her arms out beside her, hips rocking up pointedly against Nyssa’s ass. “Indulge yourself,” she smirks, and Nyssa laughs at the challenge and fists her hands in Sara’s jacket, the fabric creaking under her fingers when she leans down for another leather-scented kiss.
Fandom: Arrow
Pairing: Nyssa/Sara
Rating: NC-17
Words: 1036
Notes: Costume kink. For Ladies Bingo, prompt "repeats and repetitions", and a prompt at comment_fic.
Summary: Sara's still fully dressed, but tonight Nyssa wants her that way.
It’s the same routine every night. Suiting up for the mission ahead, and this is the part of the job Sara likes best. There’s a rhythm to it, a comfort in the repetition: tightening the corset around her chest, drawing the pants up her legs, fastening her belt, tying her boots, tugging on her reinforced gloves. The jacket goes on last, the final piece of the puzzle, and Sara can feel Nyssa’s eyes on her the whole time.
It makes her feel hot beneath all that leather, skin heating up for the way Nyssa looks at her, like Sara’s something beautiful and desirable and precious.
They spend the night moving through shadows, stalking targets, cutting down those in their way. And Sara’s heart races the whole time, not from their duty to the League or the violence they’re surrounded by, but from anticipation.
Because once they return to their hotel or safehouse or wherever it is they happen to be holing up, she knows what comes next.
There’s a repetition to that as well, to the way Nyssa will haul her close and kiss Sara like she wants to drown in her presence. They’ll strip together, Sara working backwards through her routine, jacket then gloves then boots then belt then pants then corset. Not stopping until they’re down to their skin, pressed together and breathing each other’s air, new bruises and future scars for their fingers to explore.
That’s what Sara’s expecting on this night as well, but Nyssa’s hand lands on Sara’s shoulder, her gaze mischievous. “Wait,” she says simply, shattering the usual routine of repetition and leaving Sara off-balance and loving it.
She smiles when Nyssa pulls her in by the collar of her jacket, because that’s familiar. But this time when Nyssa touches her, she’s not tugging impatiently at Sara’s clothes, urging her to start taking them off. She presses her face to Sara’s shoulder instead, inhaling deeply, and Sara bites her lip and strokes Nyssa’s hair.
“What do you smell?” she asks Nyssa softly.
“The night,” Nyssa answers. “Smoke and the city and you. All wrapped up in leather.”
She tackles Sara to the bed, and Sara lets her. She rolls them for the hell of it but Sara’s still happy to wind up on her back, Nyssa looking down at her with hungry eyes. Nyssa’s already thrown off her weapons and her gauntlets, her bow leaning against the wall, but otherwise she stays as clothed as Sara is. Her hands, the only bared part of either of them, roam over Sara’s body, fingernails dragging over the corset, palms cupping Sara’s breasts and squeezing until she moans breathlessly.
“I want to be naked,” Sara gasps, and Nyssa squeezes her harder, making Sara buck up into the touch.
“Not yet,” Nyssa whispers, and her hands continue their journey. Her fingertips trail over the front of Sara’s jacket, tracing the lines of it, smoothing down her arms. She takes Sara’s hands, rubbing her thumb over the gloves, digging into the space between Sara’s knuckles.
“Please,” Sara murmurs. She doesn’t know what Nyssa’s doing, doesn’t know what she’s asking for, she just knows she wants more.
Nyssa’s attention turns to Sara’s hips, to following the pattern of crisscrossed leather down the front of her thighs. She strokes over Sara’s legs, and the touch is muted by the thick material but it still leaves Sara shivering.
“You’ll stay dressed for me, won’t you, beloved?” Nyssa’s watching Sara closely, watching the flutter of her eyelashes when Nyssa’s nails dig in a little more roughly at the tops of Sara’s thighs.
Sara smiles up at her. “I’m starting to think you have a fetish for leather,” she teases.
Nyssa only laughs, a soft and small sound that Sara always cherishes. “Perhaps I simply have a fetish for you,” she purrs, although Sara notices there’s no denial of the accusation. But if Nyssa’s not denying having a thing for Sara in leather, then there’s also the fact that Sara isn’t denying Nyssa’s request to stay clothed, even though she wants to strip everything off as quickly as possible, the usual routine be damned.
Nyssa’s hand moves higher, her fingers sliding between Sara’s legs, and she cries out as they press against her. Sara’s hips thrust up, and Nyssa rubs at her cunt through the leather, thumb pushing up across her folds, running up to her clit. The fabric pulls between Sara’s legs, and she feels her thighs falling open, the heels of her boots skidding over the bed.
“Please,” Sara moans. This time she definitely knows what she’s asking for, and Nyssa gives it to her, grinding the ball of her hand against Sara’s crotch. Working her harder and harder, and it doesn’t matter that the leather should dull the sensation, because Sara’s already soaked, her legs shaking.
Her back arches, and Nyssa leans over her, leaving kisses over the swell of her cleavage. She presses her mouth to the edge of Sara’s corset, teeth digging in half on the fabric and half on Sara’s skin, and her fingers push up hard against Sara’s cunt.
Sara’s gasping, everything in her seizing up tight, and she comes with the scent of leather all around her and Nyssa’s hair tickling her face.
The room swims for a long moment, and when she can focus again Nyssa’s kneeling over, straddling Sara’s lap. Her face is flushed, her pupils dilated, and she smiles at Sara’s expression, gently brushing a thumb over Sara’s cheekbone. “Perhaps I do have an appreciation for leather,” she admits.
“Fetish,” Sara corrects, grinning.
Nyssa smiles wider. “As you say,” she nods, and she swoops down to kiss Sara again, fast but sweet. “Will you indulge me further?”
Sara needs to get out of these clothes, to have a shower, to be naked already and have Nyssa naked beside her. But as appealing as that is, keeping Nyssa smiling like that is more appealing still.
She spreads her arms out beside her, hips rocking up pointedly against Nyssa’s ass. “Indulge yourself,” she smirks, and Nyssa laughs at the challenge and fists her hands in Sara’s jacket, the fabric creaking under her fingers when she leans down for another leather-scented kiss.