Sophinisba Solis (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sophinisba) wrote2006-07-11 07:24 pm
sophinisba) wrote2006-07-11 07:24 pm
Five Things that Never Happened to Stokely Mitchell, 3: Limitless Oceans
Part 3, Stokely/Marybeth, hard R
I'm using this for prompt #5, Tentacles!, at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
wtf27 (consider yourself warned).
3.
It was hard watching Stan through the glass of the gym door, harder pretending to be surprised. Of course they'd gotten him too. Stokely had been ready for him then, ready to take him on, just as she was ready now, but she couldn't make them understand that. Zeke had decided he was in charge, and he thought Stokely was being naïve when she wanted to open the door. But it was just as well, really for the best that Zeke left with Casey, even if it meant the two of them were in more danger now. Really what she'd needed all along was a few minutes alone with Marybeth.
Because Stokely was the only one who saw, back in Zeke's garage. She saw that it was both of them, one with worms under her skin and the other with tentacles at her fingertips. Or maybe she wasn't the only one who saw. Maybe everybody saw it and no one else bothered to react because they'd all been turned into aliens already anyway. That was why Stokely didn't say anything. Just kept the knowledge to herself and kept the box of caffeine pills in her pocket. Either no one cared or no one noticed -- Stokely had years of shoplifting behind her and she was just as subtle and deft with her fingers as Marybeth if not more so.
Stokely decides she's had enough of listening quietly with her head in her hands, so she turns around to face the enemy. "You're pretending too?" she says, and she keeps her eyes wide and shining, even though she's not really surprised by what's happening.
"Just a front, is that it?" says Marybeth, smiling sweetly, tucking Stokely's hair back behind her ear the way Stokely does for herself when she's nervous. "Just a screen you put up to get those big mean boys to leave you alone?"
"I didn't think I could trust you," Stokely answers truthfully. "How did you know?"
"Oh, I know all about pretending, Stokely. I know about pretending to be a sweet innocent young thing and I know about pretending to be straight. And I'm damn good at it -- just ask Zeke." They both smile. "You, on the other hand, are not pretending. Or you weren't when I first met you. You have been today, though. All this throwing yourself at Stan, honey, it really doesn't suit you. I know you're not any more interested in him than I am in Zeke or any of these boys."
"I guess you're just a better liar than I am." Shy, embarrassed, mumbling, that's the way. She can do this.
"But we can stop pretending now, can't we?"
"Yeah." Stokely takes a breath, reaches out, strokes the fine blond hair, just once, kisses the right side of Marybeth's jaw. "The others won't be back for a while, we can -- "
"I don't think we need to worry about the others," Marybeth says calmly. And the statement should be frightening, but Stokely doesn't let it faze her. She nods, moves her hand to the buttons of Marybeth's blouse, nods again when Marybeth says, "We'll be fine here."
It isn't logical at all. Marybeth is good-looking but that doesn't mean that Stokely would try to fuck her on the bleachers of the high school gym if she were in her right mind and didn't have anything up her sleeve or under her tongue. But if Marybeth isn't bothered by the lack of logic, Stokely won't dwell on it. She pushes Marybeth down and lies on top of her, on a lower step in between seats. She smells wood and sweat and thinks of basketball games and pep rallies and a thousand people stamping their feet in rhythm with school spirit, and she moves her leg in between Marybeth's, shoves up her skirt and tugs lightly at her hair.
"Stan didn't look unhappy," Marybeth murmurs, shifting their positions slightly, touching the back of Stokely's waist to make her shiver and sliding one hand under her sweater and the other under her skirt.
"No," Stokely agrees, "he said there was no pain." And then they stop talking.
There's no pain for Stokely either. For the first few minutes it's all as awkward and uncomfortable as she would have imagined sex in her high school gym, had she ever tried imagining such a thing. The air is hot and humid and both girls are slippery with sweat. Knees and elbows knock painfully against each other and against the wood, and Stokely can't get the balance or the leverage to move her hand under Marybeth's skirt the way she'd like. But pretty soon she stops trying to coordinate it all and just lets it happen, lets Marybeth touch her. She holds on to enough concentration that she'll remember not to kiss her on the mouth, not yet, but the rest of her body she gives over.
And then it's there, the feeling she's always hoped for, though she never did quite dare to imagine it. She's been with guys and girls before and she knows about the touch of fingers and the touch of a tongue, soft and strong at the same time, pressure and wet and warmth. She knows how to use her own fingers and her tongue to make a girl scream or make her shudder and moan. And she might have wanted something like this before, but when she was giving she's never been able to reach all the places she wants at once, and when she was getting she's always wanted more. And the touch she feels now is all over her like hands and fingers, and it's intimate like a tongue. And it's not even anywhere close to her clit but it's the back of her thigh and the back of her neck and the back of her ear, and it's gliding across her belly and licking up her arm and under all at once, and Stokely's whole body is thrumming and floating and ready to burst it's so strong. And Stokely buries her face in Marybeth's hair and nuzzles at her neck so she won't be tempted to let their mouths touch. Because that's what she wants, the kiss, but she knows she's still not ready for that (she knows what she'll have to do then). And it's getting harder and harder to resist, so she keeps her tongue pressed down while she bites harder and harder at Marybeth's neck.
And Marybeth doesn't complain, just keeps touching her, and Stokely knows there's no way four human limbs and a tongue could do this much. Of course, she knew going into it that there would be more, but it's still a shock to feel them and she's glad she can't see for now. But she can feel two tentacles sliding slick and sweet and unstoppable around her legs, creeping closer and tighter between them, and there's another one looping around her right arm and, God, one around her neck, twisting with the chain necklace, wrapped around just once and not too tight, but it could go tight any moment if Marybeth wanted it to; it could choke her, and there's no way Stokely can pull away unless Marybeth decides to let her.
But that's for the best, that's part of the plan too, because they're tangled up enough at this point, between the elbows and the bleachers and the twining, twisting limbs, that Stokely knows it won't end once she does what she has to do. Neither one of them will be able to pull away before the end. Which means, as much as she'd like to keep going on like this, that it's time, it has to be. She sucks hard up along the side of Marybeth's neck and under her ear, and then, yes, now, to her mouth, and Marybeth is ready for her, her mouth an open O as Stokely covers it, and brings up the capsule from under her tongue and bites, hard, and ignores the taste and the texture of the powder in their mouths and just pushes, shoves it down into Marybeth's throat with her tongue, as hard and as fast as she can, fucking the pretty blonde girl's mouth like her life -- and everyone's life -- depends on it.
She isn't sure it's going to work. She knows caffeine's just a diuretic that makes you piss, it doesn't just make you dry up, so it shouldn't work, it really shouldn't, and it shouldn't have worked with the scat pens either, but it's the only hope she has. And it isn't fast this time like it was with the pens; there's no dramatic fizzing or wild convulsions, but the reaction is immediate. Marybeth knows something is wrong but she doesn't, can't pull away, so she pulls tighter. And Stokely feels the tentacle tightening around her throat, feels her face swelling with blood, and before she knows it she's kicking back, struggling mindlessly like an animal under attack, and her fingers are feet are going numb but all the while Marybeth's touch has her writhing and trying to get more.
Stokely isn't scared, not really. Because if it works then it works and she's stopped the invasion and saved the world. If it doesn't work she might sink in this ocean and lose herself, or she might just die, but the end will be nothing but bliss. Because she can feel it coming now. Marybeth is agitated and desperate and moving faster, and that's moving every limb deliciously against every surface of her skin, and Stokely would scream if she had her mouth free.
Her mouth is where she feels the change first. Marybeth was wet like oceans before but now she's losing it, and she's trying to get moisture any way she can. So it's the tongue first, sucking where before she was trying to push Stokely out, and then it's those two skinny little tentacles that snaked their way between her legs and under her panties. They've never tried to push in and they don't now, but they pull even as they rub against her, because it's happening now, the alien queen is drying up and everywhere she touches Stokely's human body it's like she's sucking at the skin, and sucking at her cunt so hard and so wrong and so fucking good and Stokely's cunt gives back with everything she's got. The dam breaks and the queen drinks it all up, all the way up to the tears from her face, and shrivels back and away, leaving Stokely wrecked and abandoned, empty and limp like a wrung-out rag.
And that's how Casey finds her when he runs back into the gym, alone. Stokely can't even stand to move until he climbs up and tells her it's all right, that it's over, and then she realizes she still can't move because she's still tangled tight in the alien corpse. But the tentacles and even the arms and legs are light and brittle now, like dried up vines. So it doesn't take much of Casey's strength to pry them away. And if it scares him or if it disgusts him he gives no sign, just works methodically until she's free and then helps her kneel up and crawl away. And she doesn't have it in her to cry or to throw up or to ask if Stan's still alive. She just lets him hold her close and breathes the hot air in the gym, dry and electric and prickling at her skin.
next part | series tag | fic index
I'm using this for prompt #5, Tentacles!, at
wtf27 (consider yourself warned).3.
It was hard watching Stan through the glass of the gym door, harder pretending to be surprised. Of course they'd gotten him too. Stokely had been ready for him then, ready to take him on, just as she was ready now, but she couldn't make them understand that. Zeke had decided he was in charge, and he thought Stokely was being naïve when she wanted to open the door. But it was just as well, really for the best that Zeke left with Casey, even if it meant the two of them were in more danger now. Really what she'd needed all along was a few minutes alone with Marybeth.
Because Stokely was the only one who saw, back in Zeke's garage. She saw that it was both of them, one with worms under her skin and the other with tentacles at her fingertips. Or maybe she wasn't the only one who saw. Maybe everybody saw it and no one else bothered to react because they'd all been turned into aliens already anyway. That was why Stokely didn't say anything. Just kept the knowledge to herself and kept the box of caffeine pills in her pocket. Either no one cared or no one noticed -- Stokely had years of shoplifting behind her and she was just as subtle and deft with her fingers as Marybeth if not more so.
Stokely decides she's had enough of listening quietly with her head in her hands, so she turns around to face the enemy. "You're pretending too?" she says, and she keeps her eyes wide and shining, even though she's not really surprised by what's happening.
"Just a front, is that it?" says Marybeth, smiling sweetly, tucking Stokely's hair back behind her ear the way Stokely does for herself when she's nervous. "Just a screen you put up to get those big mean boys to leave you alone?"
"I didn't think I could trust you," Stokely answers truthfully. "How did you know?"
"Oh, I know all about pretending, Stokely. I know about pretending to be a sweet innocent young thing and I know about pretending to be straight. And I'm damn good at it -- just ask Zeke." They both smile. "You, on the other hand, are not pretending. Or you weren't when I first met you. You have been today, though. All this throwing yourself at Stan, honey, it really doesn't suit you. I know you're not any more interested in him than I am in Zeke or any of these boys."
"I guess you're just a better liar than I am." Shy, embarrassed, mumbling, that's the way. She can do this.
"But we can stop pretending now, can't we?"
"Yeah." Stokely takes a breath, reaches out, strokes the fine blond hair, just once, kisses the right side of Marybeth's jaw. "The others won't be back for a while, we can -- "
"I don't think we need to worry about the others," Marybeth says calmly. And the statement should be frightening, but Stokely doesn't let it faze her. She nods, moves her hand to the buttons of Marybeth's blouse, nods again when Marybeth says, "We'll be fine here."
It isn't logical at all. Marybeth is good-looking but that doesn't mean that Stokely would try to fuck her on the bleachers of the high school gym if she were in her right mind and didn't have anything up her sleeve or under her tongue. But if Marybeth isn't bothered by the lack of logic, Stokely won't dwell on it. She pushes Marybeth down and lies on top of her, on a lower step in between seats. She smells wood and sweat and thinks of basketball games and pep rallies and a thousand people stamping their feet in rhythm with school spirit, and she moves her leg in between Marybeth's, shoves up her skirt and tugs lightly at her hair.
"Stan didn't look unhappy," Marybeth murmurs, shifting their positions slightly, touching the back of Stokely's waist to make her shiver and sliding one hand under her sweater and the other under her skirt.
"No," Stokely agrees, "he said there was no pain." And then they stop talking.
There's no pain for Stokely either. For the first few minutes it's all as awkward and uncomfortable as she would have imagined sex in her high school gym, had she ever tried imagining such a thing. The air is hot and humid and both girls are slippery with sweat. Knees and elbows knock painfully against each other and against the wood, and Stokely can't get the balance or the leverage to move her hand under Marybeth's skirt the way she'd like. But pretty soon she stops trying to coordinate it all and just lets it happen, lets Marybeth touch her. She holds on to enough concentration that she'll remember not to kiss her on the mouth, not yet, but the rest of her body she gives over.
And then it's there, the feeling she's always hoped for, though she never did quite dare to imagine it. She's been with guys and girls before and she knows about the touch of fingers and the touch of a tongue, soft and strong at the same time, pressure and wet and warmth. She knows how to use her own fingers and her tongue to make a girl scream or make her shudder and moan. And she might have wanted something like this before, but when she was giving she's never been able to reach all the places she wants at once, and when she was getting she's always wanted more. And the touch she feels now is all over her like hands and fingers, and it's intimate like a tongue. And it's not even anywhere close to her clit but it's the back of her thigh and the back of her neck and the back of her ear, and it's gliding across her belly and licking up her arm and under all at once, and Stokely's whole body is thrumming and floating and ready to burst it's so strong. And Stokely buries her face in Marybeth's hair and nuzzles at her neck so she won't be tempted to let their mouths touch. Because that's what she wants, the kiss, but she knows she's still not ready for that (she knows what she'll have to do then). And it's getting harder and harder to resist, so she keeps her tongue pressed down while she bites harder and harder at Marybeth's neck.
And Marybeth doesn't complain, just keeps touching her, and Stokely knows there's no way four human limbs and a tongue could do this much. Of course, she knew going into it that there would be more, but it's still a shock to feel them and she's glad she can't see for now. But she can feel two tentacles sliding slick and sweet and unstoppable around her legs, creeping closer and tighter between them, and there's another one looping around her right arm and, God, one around her neck, twisting with the chain necklace, wrapped around just once and not too tight, but it could go tight any moment if Marybeth wanted it to; it could choke her, and there's no way Stokely can pull away unless Marybeth decides to let her.
But that's for the best, that's part of the plan too, because they're tangled up enough at this point, between the elbows and the bleachers and the twining, twisting limbs, that Stokely knows it won't end once she does what she has to do. Neither one of them will be able to pull away before the end. Which means, as much as she'd like to keep going on like this, that it's time, it has to be. She sucks hard up along the side of Marybeth's neck and under her ear, and then, yes, now, to her mouth, and Marybeth is ready for her, her mouth an open O as Stokely covers it, and brings up the capsule from under her tongue and bites, hard, and ignores the taste and the texture of the powder in their mouths and just pushes, shoves it down into Marybeth's throat with her tongue, as hard and as fast as she can, fucking the pretty blonde girl's mouth like her life -- and everyone's life -- depends on it.
She isn't sure it's going to work. She knows caffeine's just a diuretic that makes you piss, it doesn't just make you dry up, so it shouldn't work, it really shouldn't, and it shouldn't have worked with the scat pens either, but it's the only hope she has. And it isn't fast this time like it was with the pens; there's no dramatic fizzing or wild convulsions, but the reaction is immediate. Marybeth knows something is wrong but she doesn't, can't pull away, so she pulls tighter. And Stokely feels the tentacle tightening around her throat, feels her face swelling with blood, and before she knows it she's kicking back, struggling mindlessly like an animal under attack, and her fingers are feet are going numb but all the while Marybeth's touch has her writhing and trying to get more.
Stokely isn't scared, not really. Because if it works then it works and she's stopped the invasion and saved the world. If it doesn't work she might sink in this ocean and lose herself, or she might just die, but the end will be nothing but bliss. Because she can feel it coming now. Marybeth is agitated and desperate and moving faster, and that's moving every limb deliciously against every surface of her skin, and Stokely would scream if she had her mouth free.
Her mouth is where she feels the change first. Marybeth was wet like oceans before but now she's losing it, and she's trying to get moisture any way she can. So it's the tongue first, sucking where before she was trying to push Stokely out, and then it's those two skinny little tentacles that snaked their way between her legs and under her panties. They've never tried to push in and they don't now, but they pull even as they rub against her, because it's happening now, the alien queen is drying up and everywhere she touches Stokely's human body it's like she's sucking at the skin, and sucking at her cunt so hard and so wrong and so fucking good and Stokely's cunt gives back with everything she's got. The dam breaks and the queen drinks it all up, all the way up to the tears from her face, and shrivels back and away, leaving Stokely wrecked and abandoned, empty and limp like a wrung-out rag.
And that's how Casey finds her when he runs back into the gym, alone. Stokely can't even stand to move until he climbs up and tells her it's all right, that it's over, and then she realizes she still can't move because she's still tangled tight in the alien corpse. But the tentacles and even the arms and legs are light and brittle now, like dried up vines. So it doesn't take much of Casey's strength to pry them away. And if it scares him or if it disgusts him he gives no sign, just works methodically until she's free and then helps her kneel up and crawl away. And she doesn't have it in her to cry or to throw up or to ask if Stan's still alive. She just lets him hold her close and breathes the hot air in the gym, dry and electric and prickling at her skin.
next part | series tag | fic index
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The description of Marybeth trying to take in all her juices, so to speak, all the way down to the shriveling is so compelling!
Oh, and how much do I like that Stokely had been planning to take down Stan, but decided it was better this way, so she could take down the Queen. Her strong confidence makes her SUCH a great character.
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This part was really challenging for me to write and it's so great to hear that it worked for you.
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My. Aren't these so alive!
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