War wounds

K. Ryan

"And this?"

Kel traced a finger along the scar that sliced between Alanna's breasts. Faded, now, eerily straight from magical healing, but still a deep change in flesh. "This is—"

"—the one is with all the history, yes." Alanna's hand covered Kel's, teasing her palm and fingers, lifting it away so she could flick her tongue around the knuckles, the finger tips dented from beaks and claws, palms and wrists striped by callous, but still sensitive enough for Kel to gasp. "Oh."

She laughed, faintly. "I don't know how you're doing that." Kel used her free hand to sketch through Alanna's faded, coppery hair. To draw slow lines down her cheek and throat; collarbone and breast, pale and yet substantial, blue veins tracing through in unexpected delicacy. She licked her lips. Swallowed down the faint taste of bitter almonds that clung to her skin. "They're just hands. They shouldn't feel so—"

"They're yours, and beautiful." Alanna, even shivering, was direct. "Think of everything you've done with them."

Laughter was unexpected and glorious, fizzing through her body. "You just like the taste of yourself, Lioness." She shuddered, free hand clenching briefly, pausing in its slow swipe down the older woman's belly, as Alanna swallowed, deep.

"On you, certainly."

Note: Written for the first round of Goldenlake's SMACKDOWN: A fanfiction fight for Kel's non-canonical hand. Competitor: Alanna of Pirate's Swoop and Olau. Characters are in no way mine. The competition is the brainchild of Goldenlake message boards. They, likewise, neither own nor profit from these characters and/or their geographies.