Fanfiction
Title: A Night Out
Author: Xavernus
Pairing: Jennifer/Wendy
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: girl/girl sex
Disclaimer: I do not own Rule of Rose. It is just a game I play.
There was something to be said about the park at night. It was beautiful, with the glow of lights that never blew out, and Jennifer could not remember a time when they ever did blow out. Of course, her mother had often times told her stories were people would come and light the lamps in the streets with a lighter, but those days were long gone, along with her mother.
There was sniffling coming from one side of the room, and Wendy made her way over to it, to find the little eight year old girl sitting up in bed, rubbing at her eyes and trying her hardest not to cry. She wouldn’t want to wake anyone up, and that thought made Wendy smile as she sat on the edge of the bed. “Would you like me to tell you a bedtime story?”
But as she made her way along a pathway, she was glad for the light. There had been talks lately about a mad man on a killing spree in the neighboring towns (it had been put all over the newspapers, something she read carefully on a daily occasion) and she didn’t want to be too worried about becoming number five of the mad man’s victims. A noise up ahead caught her attention, and she smiled to herself as she saw a couple walking together, hand in hand, in the twilight of the evening.
Bedtime stories became a ritual for them after awhile, Wendy climbing into Jennifer’s bed at night when everyone else was asleep in their own beds, and she would, between coughing quietly, spin magical tales of fairies and wonder, loving the way the other girl’s eyes shone in the darkness. Jennifer was entranced by her, by her stories, by her feeling of another person in the same bed as herself. And Wendy relished every moment of it.
She ducked out of their way, coming to stop on a bench in the middle of a rose garden, the beautiful, perfume fragrance drifting its way up to her nose and making her smile almost disappear as memories assaulted her. It had been a year since she had regained her memories, and here she was, a young woman of twenty, with a tortured past that she could not tell anyone about, for fear of what they might think of her…what might become of her.
After some time, Jennifer began to tire of bedtime stories, and found she no longer needed them to fall asleep at night. Wendy, furious with the idea that she no longer needed them at night, their one little secret, decided that maybe another secret was in order to be kept.
It made going out with a young man that much harder, that was sure. She took a seat on the bench and sighed, leaning her head forward and into her hands as she breathed in the scent of roses. The smell still always brought to mind her childhood friend, her protector for a time, until things had gone from bad to worse as they say.
Their first kiss was hesitant, with both girls only way of knowing how to kiss, being with a pillow and pretending it was a man kissing you back. It was in the rose garden and it was done under secret, a pretend game for a pretend world that they made up. Their second kiss was much less clumsier, wetter in the sense that both were gasping for air as they kissed, open mouthed and Wendy’s small hands threaded into Jennifer’s short locks on a hot summer’s day.
Wendy.
Each night now became like this; bedtime stories forgotten in favor for the kisses of another. Wet and hot as they pressed up against each other on the bed. Always Jennifer’s bed, always there and not Wendy’s. Once they were done their feverish kisses, she would go back to her side of the room and go to sleep. And then Jennifer moaned softly into her mouth one night, and all changed from then on.
The name still sent shivers up and down her spine, and yet, sometimes the shivers were not ones of fear, of horror, or of disgust. No, sometimes she felt a pang in her stomach that made her flush and her skin feverishly hot. Sometimes, sometimes this was one of the reasons she always had trouble going out with the young men that asked her out. No self esteem issues for her, and yet….
It began with small touches, their chests with budding breasts touching through long, thin cotton nightshirts. It went on from that when Jennifer, usually so timid, made a gasp at one of the kisses, lust burning hot and heavy throughout her, and her hand went to relieve the ache between her legs, a moan in her throat that Wendy quickly kissed away, her own hand joining Jennifer’s as she pressed and felt her friend’s heat, eyes going wide with this new, sacred knowledge.
Jennifer sighed and looked up from her head in her hands. She couldn’t hear the young couple anymore, and yet, their happiness, once making her smile, now made her feel sick to her stomach as long forgotten memories crept up into her brain, making her remember even if they were ones she would rather forget. She stood up and began to walk out of the rose garden, leaving the fragrance behind and walking back onto the path, feet moving quicker this time.
The nightly ritual was made anew, as Wendy kissed Jennifer silent and pressed her flat on her back each night, a hand slipping underneath her night clothes and testing, teasing her until she was close to crying out. She would use her fingers to bring her friend to completion at times, and other times just leave her hanging there, for her friend to do it herself, to stroke those soft folds herself. But every time, she liked to do it herself, to make her cry out into her mouth and undulate from her fingers as they pressed in all of the right places.
She made it back to her small flat in no time, dodging the occasional automobile that was still on the streets this late at night, and with heavy legs, cramping from exertion and stylish but not quite the right walking shoes on her feet. She began the slow climb up to her room, on the third floor. It was all she could afford at the moment, with a shop girl’s salary, but she made do.
Sometimes night clothes ended up on the floor, as Wendy and Jennifer began to experiment with each other, pinching nipples between testing fingers, stroking over entrances with a light touch but never going inward-they had forgone that when it became too painful for the both of them when they first tried. They both were tight, too tight for even a single finger to slip through without pain, and so they kept on with the stroking and pinching of soft, smooth flesh.
Opening the door with her key, she quickly locked it behind her, a deadbolt and a regular lock, something she had sprung for the first time she had gotten her first paycheck. It made her feel more secure, more safe, though it didn’t keep her from her memories, and with flaming cheeks, she went into the bedroom to change into her night clothes and get a good night’s sleep.
They never got a good night’s sleep that summer, when they began to experiment with each other. Especially when Jennifer one time licked her fingers off of Wendy’s essence and said that it tasted good. From then on, it was Wendy who had to fight to keep from moaning and crying out as the other girl used her tongue to please her, licking and stroking up her budding clit. It was so wrong, it felt so right, and only one person made Jennifer feel wanted, stroked her hair after they were both spent and sweaty on her bed, clothes tangled at the bottom and the entire room unaware of what they were up to.
Instead of a good night’s sleep, she was up the entire night, thinking of Wendy, the things that had happened, the things they had done. Her hand between her legs, she gave a low moan as she slipped fingers in between her folds and stroked hard, this act making her feel ashamed of herself, and yet at the same time the feeling was so good… she panted into the night air, bucking her hips as her fingers found her clit and squeezed and pinched, until she came with a low cry, a single name escaping her lips.
Wendy.
Author: Xavernus
Pairing: Jennifer/Wendy
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: girl/girl sex
Disclaimer: I do not own Rule of Rose. It is just a game I play.
There was something to be said about the park at night. It was beautiful, with the glow of lights that never blew out, and Jennifer could not remember a time when they ever did blow out. Of course, her mother had often times told her stories were people would come and light the lamps in the streets with a lighter, but those days were long gone, along with her mother.
There was sniffling coming from one side of the room, and Wendy made her way over to it, to find the little eight year old girl sitting up in bed, rubbing at her eyes and trying her hardest not to cry. She wouldn’t want to wake anyone up, and that thought made Wendy smile as she sat on the edge of the bed. “Would you like me to tell you a bedtime story?”
But as she made her way along a pathway, she was glad for the light. There had been talks lately about a mad man on a killing spree in the neighboring towns (it had been put all over the newspapers, something she read carefully on a daily occasion) and she didn’t want to be too worried about becoming number five of the mad man’s victims. A noise up ahead caught her attention, and she smiled to herself as she saw a couple walking together, hand in hand, in the twilight of the evening.
Bedtime stories became a ritual for them after awhile, Wendy climbing into Jennifer’s bed at night when everyone else was asleep in their own beds, and she would, between coughing quietly, spin magical tales of fairies and wonder, loving the way the other girl’s eyes shone in the darkness. Jennifer was entranced by her, by her stories, by her feeling of another person in the same bed as herself. And Wendy relished every moment of it.
She ducked out of their way, coming to stop on a bench in the middle of a rose garden, the beautiful, perfume fragrance drifting its way up to her nose and making her smile almost disappear as memories assaulted her. It had been a year since she had regained her memories, and here she was, a young woman of twenty, with a tortured past that she could not tell anyone about, for fear of what they might think of her…what might become of her.
After some time, Jennifer began to tire of bedtime stories, and found she no longer needed them to fall asleep at night. Wendy, furious with the idea that she no longer needed them at night, their one little secret, decided that maybe another secret was in order to be kept.
It made going out with a young man that much harder, that was sure. She took a seat on the bench and sighed, leaning her head forward and into her hands as she breathed in the scent of roses. The smell still always brought to mind her childhood friend, her protector for a time, until things had gone from bad to worse as they say.
Their first kiss was hesitant, with both girls only way of knowing how to kiss, being with a pillow and pretending it was a man kissing you back. It was in the rose garden and it was done under secret, a pretend game for a pretend world that they made up. Their second kiss was much less clumsier, wetter in the sense that both were gasping for air as they kissed, open mouthed and Wendy’s small hands threaded into Jennifer’s short locks on a hot summer’s day.
Wendy.
Each night now became like this; bedtime stories forgotten in favor for the kisses of another. Wet and hot as they pressed up against each other on the bed. Always Jennifer’s bed, always there and not Wendy’s. Once they were done their feverish kisses, she would go back to her side of the room and go to sleep. And then Jennifer moaned softly into her mouth one night, and all changed from then on.
The name still sent shivers up and down her spine, and yet, sometimes the shivers were not ones of fear, of horror, or of disgust. No, sometimes she felt a pang in her stomach that made her flush and her skin feverishly hot. Sometimes, sometimes this was one of the reasons she always had trouble going out with the young men that asked her out. No self esteem issues for her, and yet….
It began with small touches, their chests with budding breasts touching through long, thin cotton nightshirts. It went on from that when Jennifer, usually so timid, made a gasp at one of the kisses, lust burning hot and heavy throughout her, and her hand went to relieve the ache between her legs, a moan in her throat that Wendy quickly kissed away, her own hand joining Jennifer’s as she pressed and felt her friend’s heat, eyes going wide with this new, sacred knowledge.
Jennifer sighed and looked up from her head in her hands. She couldn’t hear the young couple anymore, and yet, their happiness, once making her smile, now made her feel sick to her stomach as long forgotten memories crept up into her brain, making her remember even if they were ones she would rather forget. She stood up and began to walk out of the rose garden, leaving the fragrance behind and walking back onto the path, feet moving quicker this time.
The nightly ritual was made anew, as Wendy kissed Jennifer silent and pressed her flat on her back each night, a hand slipping underneath her night clothes and testing, teasing her until she was close to crying out. She would use her fingers to bring her friend to completion at times, and other times just leave her hanging there, for her friend to do it herself, to stroke those soft folds herself. But every time, she liked to do it herself, to make her cry out into her mouth and undulate from her fingers as they pressed in all of the right places.
She made it back to her small flat in no time, dodging the occasional automobile that was still on the streets this late at night, and with heavy legs, cramping from exertion and stylish but not quite the right walking shoes on her feet. She began the slow climb up to her room, on the third floor. It was all she could afford at the moment, with a shop girl’s salary, but she made do.
Sometimes night clothes ended up on the floor, as Wendy and Jennifer began to experiment with each other, pinching nipples between testing fingers, stroking over entrances with a light touch but never going inward-they had forgone that when it became too painful for the both of them when they first tried. They both were tight, too tight for even a single finger to slip through without pain, and so they kept on with the stroking and pinching of soft, smooth flesh.
Opening the door with her key, she quickly locked it behind her, a deadbolt and a regular lock, something she had sprung for the first time she had gotten her first paycheck. It made her feel more secure, more safe, though it didn’t keep her from her memories, and with flaming cheeks, she went into the bedroom to change into her night clothes and get a good night’s sleep.
They never got a good night’s sleep that summer, when they began to experiment with each other. Especially when Jennifer one time licked her fingers off of Wendy’s essence and said that it tasted good. From then on, it was Wendy who had to fight to keep from moaning and crying out as the other girl used her tongue to please her, licking and stroking up her budding clit. It was so wrong, it felt so right, and only one person made Jennifer feel wanted, stroked her hair after they were both spent and sweaty on her bed, clothes tangled at the bottom and the entire room unaware of what they were up to.
Instead of a good night’s sleep, she was up the entire night, thinking of Wendy, the things that had happened, the things they had done. Her hand between her legs, she gave a low moan as she slipped fingers in between her folds and stroked hard, this act making her feel ashamed of herself, and yet at the same time the feeling was so good… she panted into the night air, bucking her hips as her fingers found her clit and squeezed and pinched, until she came with a low cry, a single name escaping her lips.
Wendy.