Kisses, a fringe fanfic
Title: Kisses
Fandom: Fringe
Pairing: Olivia Dunham/Alt!livia
Warnings or Spoilers: Nope
Summary: It's the morning kisses Liv likes the best.
Rating: PG
This was a spontaneous brainchild of mine, once upon a night while commuting back from work. For some weird reason that my mind and my muse refuse to share with me, I tend to write O2 from Liv’s POV, mostly. I guess it is much easier to get into her head and emulate her thought processes. Any feedback would be love.
It’s the morning kisses Liv likes the best, just as Olivia arrives at the compound at the start of the day. Sometimes she tastes like toothpaste which makes Liv’s tongue tingle if it’s very early in the day. Once a week she tastes like her mouthwash - minty strong and slightly acrid. It makes Liv’s tongue sting. But Liv’s favorites are the days when Olivia tastes like coffee.
Sometimes it’s rich, chocolaty mocha - when Olivia’s tongue seems to melt in Liv’s mouth with a velvety smooth fullness. Or there are the sweet, frothy caramelatte days - when their kisses are sweet, light-bodied, floaty little things. Or sometimes the sharp bitter-chocolate, tangy taste of macadamia which blooms on Liv’s tongue into something feral, turning their kisses into a wild, unrelenting battle of lips and tongues which leaves both of them slightly weak in legs, and breathless.
Those are the days when both of them go back home with a patchwork of bite marks and nail scratches on their bodies, their muscles sore and aching in a way too good and too intimate to explain.
But those are few and far between. Most of the days it’s bittersweet black coffee kisses, which are more bitter than sweet, which make Liv’s heart ache from the inside, tie her stomach in knots of deep, throbbing longing that is deeper and more acute than her body’s hunger, and turn into tiny, fluttering butterflies of desire that float up her bloodstream, setting her veins and nerves aflame, and make little balls of fire explode in her head, making her lightheaded. Those kisses are like fire, like a fever in Liv’s blood, a deep-seated madness in her bones.
Those are the kisses which keep pulling her back in, like a black hole, their pull too strong to resist.
And then there are days when the taste of the coffee mingles with Olivia’s flavored lip gloss, and it tastes like an irresistible and bittersweet forbidden fruit, and those are the days when Liv kisses Olivia with a desperation born of guilt so intertwined with desire that it’s impossible to distinguish where one ends and the other begins.
Those are the days when the longing rises up her chest like a beautifully lethal miasma that clogs her throat, makes her eyes sting with salt water.
Those are the days when Liv kisses Olivia with an abandon, without once opening her tightly shut eyes, without looking at that too familiar face from across a blurry screen of pain. Those are the days when her grip leaves purple red bruises on Olivia’s arms, and her tongue and mouth are desperate and indomitable. Those are the days when Olivia knows to give in without struggle.
Those are the days when Liv goes back home, all hollow and empty, wishing she drank just so that she could drink herself into an oblivion. When she goes back home wishing Olivia would ask her to stay.
Those are the days when Olivia always asks her to stay.
Those are the days she always says no.
---
On ffnet: Kisses
Fandom: Fringe
Pairing: Olivia Dunham/Alt!livia
Warnings or Spoilers: Nope
Summary: It's the morning kisses Liv likes the best.
Rating: PG
This was a spontaneous brainchild of mine, once upon a night while commuting back from work. For some weird reason that my mind and my muse refuse to share with me, I tend to write O2 from Liv’s POV, mostly. I guess it is much easier to get into her head and emulate her thought processes. Any feedback would be love.
It’s the morning kisses Liv likes the best, just as Olivia arrives at the compound at the start of the day. Sometimes she tastes like toothpaste which makes Liv’s tongue tingle if it’s very early in the day. Once a week she tastes like her mouthwash - minty strong and slightly acrid. It makes Liv’s tongue sting. But Liv’s favorites are the days when Olivia tastes like coffee.
Sometimes it’s rich, chocolaty mocha - when Olivia’s tongue seems to melt in Liv’s mouth with a velvety smooth fullness. Or there are the sweet, frothy caramelatte days - when their kisses are sweet, light-bodied, floaty little things. Or sometimes the sharp bitter-chocolate, tangy taste of macadamia which blooms on Liv’s tongue into something feral, turning their kisses into a wild, unrelenting battle of lips and tongues which leaves both of them slightly weak in legs, and breathless.
Those are the days when both of them go back home with a patchwork of bite marks and nail scratches on their bodies, their muscles sore and aching in a way too good and too intimate to explain.
But those are few and far between. Most of the days it’s bittersweet black coffee kisses, which are more bitter than sweet, which make Liv’s heart ache from the inside, tie her stomach in knots of deep, throbbing longing that is deeper and more acute than her body’s hunger, and turn into tiny, fluttering butterflies of desire that float up her bloodstream, setting her veins and nerves aflame, and make little balls of fire explode in her head, making her lightheaded. Those kisses are like fire, like a fever in Liv’s blood, a deep-seated madness in her bones.
Those are the kisses which keep pulling her back in, like a black hole, their pull too strong to resist.
And then there are days when the taste of the coffee mingles with Olivia’s flavored lip gloss, and it tastes like an irresistible and bittersweet forbidden fruit, and those are the days when Liv kisses Olivia with a desperation born of guilt so intertwined with desire that it’s impossible to distinguish where one ends and the other begins.
Those are the days when the longing rises up her chest like a beautifully lethal miasma that clogs her throat, makes her eyes sting with salt water.
Those are the days when Liv kisses Olivia with an abandon, without once opening her tightly shut eyes, without looking at that too familiar face from across a blurry screen of pain. Those are the days when her grip leaves purple red bruises on Olivia’s arms, and her tongue and mouth are desperate and indomitable. Those are the days when Olivia knows to give in without struggle.
Those are the days when Liv goes back home, all hollow and empty, wishing she drank just so that she could drink herself into an oblivion. When she goes back home wishing Olivia would ask her to stay.
Those are the days when Olivia always asks her to stay.
Those are the days she always says no.
---
On ffnet: Kisses