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kat_lair***
Title: too many hits off this memory
Author:kat_lair
Fandom: Telephone - Lady Gaga ft Beyoncé (Music Video)
Pairing: Beyoncé Knowles/Lady Gaga
Tags: Ficlet, Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Post-Canon, Kissing, Vaginal Fingering
Rating: M
Word count: 491
Summary: Gaga likes making memories more than she likes revisiting them.
Author notes: Well, in a perfect illustration of 'never say never' here is a surprise new installment of the show me your teeth series after, uhh, over ten years. But a) I heard a rumour of Telephone pt2, and b)luckyzukky's prompt of i took too many hits off this memory (from 'Hold Me Tight Or Don't') at likealighthouse's Fall Out Boy Femslash Febrary Ficathon proved inspiring. This is unbetaed so if you spot a typo/mistake, please do let me know.
too many hits off this memory on AO3
“Do you remember the sunflowers?”
In the hammock, surrounded by them, Honeybee turns to look at her with a smile like caramel. She knows Gaga isn’t talking about the sunflowers they planted here, on the corner of the world they claimed, in a country that doesn’t remember them like a fever dream.
“Lady,” she says, and even after all this time it still makes Gaga shiver. “I remember the way you looked underneath them.” She reaches out a hand and Gaga grabs it without hesitation, lets herself be pulled closer, then tugged right into the hammock.
It’s awkward and perfect, the canvas wrapping them into a cocoon of tangled limbs and sweat sticky skin. Beyoncé’s hand grips the inside of Gaga’s thigh, and she grunts as she’s hauled closer, tighter. It’s a hot, humid, oppressive day, the summer hanging like a wet sheet above their little house, above the dirt tracks and unchecked wilderness hiding it.
“Do you miss it?” And even though Gaga can read between the lines as well, Beyoncé elaborates. “The road, the danger, the wind in your teeth, the diner cherry pie?” She touches the tip of her tongue to the corner of Gaga’s mouth, the apple of her cheek, traces the gathering lines under her eyes. “The screaming, the pleading, the sharp edge of a knife, the cloying bubble of poison?”
“Oh Honey,” Gaga says. She steals a kiss, licks salt off collarbones, the valley between Beyoncé’s breasts. “How could I miss something I never lost?”
Beyoncé smirks, her fingers dipping under the hem of Gaga’s shorts. She grinds down, the first plea already pushing at the back of her throat, bittersweet like a peach pit. The road was good, but it was long, and the glitter of diamonds, the faint spice of rat poison are etched into her mind forever, hers to keep.
And the woman under her, around her, inside her is Gaga’s too. Still. Always. And Gaga likes making memories more than she likes revisiting them. The past shimmers like the desert under a morning sun, but the present has her fingers pressed into Gaga’s cunt, has softness to her jawline from years of good living, a mind that matches hers like a broken piece of a funhouse mirror.
Besides, this house hiding in plain sight, this hammock shielded by sunflowers and hostile landscapes is only a rest stop, not the end.
“We’d find it again anyway,” Beyoncé’s murmurs, voice like a beehive. “Find each other.”
Gaga knows they would. They did it before, after all, over and over and over, in a back alley and outside prison gates and in every smeared lipstick kiss, in every blood thick second of shared wonder.
She moans now, in reply, in promise, their gazes catching like honey on skin. Around them, the sunflowers sway, heavy and butter yellow, and in the hammock Beyoncé and Gaga weave a memory golden and good and to be continued.
***
Title: too many hits off this memory
Author:
kat_lair Fandom: Telephone - Lady Gaga ft Beyoncé (Music Video)
Pairing: Beyoncé Knowles/Lady Gaga
Tags: Ficlet, Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Post-Canon, Kissing, Vaginal Fingering
Rating: M
Word count: 491
Summary: Gaga likes making memories more than she likes revisiting them.
Author notes: Well, in a perfect illustration of 'never say never' here is a surprise new installment of the show me your teeth series after, uhh, over ten years. But a) I heard a rumour of Telephone pt2, and b)
luckyzukky's prompt of i took too many hits off this memory (from 'Hold Me Tight Or Don't') at likealighthouse's Fall Out Boy Femslash Febrary Ficathon proved inspiring. This is unbetaed so if you spot a typo/mistake, please do let me know.too many hits off this memory on AO3
“Do you remember the sunflowers?”
In the hammock, surrounded by them, Honeybee turns to look at her with a smile like caramel. She knows Gaga isn’t talking about the sunflowers they planted here, on the corner of the world they claimed, in a country that doesn’t remember them like a fever dream.
“Lady,” she says, and even after all this time it still makes Gaga shiver. “I remember the way you looked underneath them.” She reaches out a hand and Gaga grabs it without hesitation, lets herself be pulled closer, then tugged right into the hammock.
It’s awkward and perfect, the canvas wrapping them into a cocoon of tangled limbs and sweat sticky skin. Beyoncé’s hand grips the inside of Gaga’s thigh, and she grunts as she’s hauled closer, tighter. It’s a hot, humid, oppressive day, the summer hanging like a wet sheet above their little house, above the dirt tracks and unchecked wilderness hiding it.
“Do you miss it?” And even though Gaga can read between the lines as well, Beyoncé elaborates. “The road, the danger, the wind in your teeth, the diner cherry pie?” She touches the tip of her tongue to the corner of Gaga’s mouth, the apple of her cheek, traces the gathering lines under her eyes. “The screaming, the pleading, the sharp edge of a knife, the cloying bubble of poison?”
“Oh Honey,” Gaga says. She steals a kiss, licks salt off collarbones, the valley between Beyoncé’s breasts. “How could I miss something I never lost?”
Beyoncé smirks, her fingers dipping under the hem of Gaga’s shorts. She grinds down, the first plea already pushing at the back of her throat, bittersweet like a peach pit. The road was good, but it was long, and the glitter of diamonds, the faint spice of rat poison are etched into her mind forever, hers to keep.
And the woman under her, around her, inside her is Gaga’s too. Still. Always. And Gaga likes making memories more than she likes revisiting them. The past shimmers like the desert under a morning sun, but the present has her fingers pressed into Gaga’s cunt, has softness to her jawline from years of good living, a mind that matches hers like a broken piece of a funhouse mirror.
Besides, this house hiding in plain sight, this hammock shielded by sunflowers and hostile landscapes is only a rest stop, not the end.
“We’d find it again anyway,” Beyoncé’s murmurs, voice like a beehive. “Find each other.”
Gaga knows they would. They did it before, after all, over and over and over, in a back alley and outside prison gates and in every smeared lipstick kiss, in every blood thick second of shared wonder.
She moans now, in reply, in promise, their gazes catching like honey on skin. Around them, the sunflowers sway, heavy and butter yellow, and in the hammock Beyoncé and Gaga weave a memory golden and good and to be continued.
***