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For the Femslash Today porn battle. Because I'm kinky like that. Still working on the sequel to a sequel for Pace Line.
Brooke Cavendar liked to say, with affectionate derision, that Bliss wasn’t the most sensible child.
Whenever her mother warned her of things like the stove being hot or the electrical sockets being dangerous rather than avoid them Bliss felt compelled to see how hot the stove was by touching it and how dangerous the sockets were by sticking a knife into them. Both with less than brilliant results. She supposed it was that same part of her which made it impossible for her to just ignore the dozing figure of Iron Maven once their league meeting was at an end.
The Holy Rollers captain was sitting in the stands, legs stretched out in front of her and her cowboy hat covering her eyes. While everyone else cleared out of the warehouse, Bliss found herself creeping up the stands, walking on her tiptoes and feeling utterly ridiculous as she did so. Honestly, she didn’t know what it was about Maven that she couldn’t just leave alone. Even after three years of playing in the TXRD the woman was as abrasive as ever and seemed to possess a perpetually spoiled attitude.
Still, despite all that Bliss found herself drawn to Maven, and while she didn’t want to admit it, she knew it had to do with her introduction to roller derby. It was seeing Maven jam in that first bout that sucked Bliss in and it was Maven that made her want to play the sport and it was Maven that, to this day, she wanted to beat when she got on the track.
When Pash was in the midst of her introduction to psychology course she liked to say that Bliss had an unnatural fixation with Maven. That she symbolized an ideal that Bliss wanted to live up to or something like that but Bliss didn’t know anything of that sort. All she knew was that anytime Maven walked into the room her eyes were drawn to her and no one else.
She was in front of Maven now, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest beneath the slinky black top that covered a bare amount of skin, and Bliss reached out to lift up the cowboy hat but the moment she got close, her wrist was held in a strong grip.
“Ruthless,” Maven’s husky drawl came out from under the hat, not the least bit muffled from the material.
“Maven,” Bliss responded rather apprehensively, though she made no move to free herself from Maven’s hold.
Tipping up the cowboy hat, Maven smirked at Bliss and her fingers flexed, loosening her grip and trailing over Bliss' skin, drawing a pattern on the palm of her hand. “You trying to steal my hat?” she asked sardonically, lifting an eyebrow.
“No,” said Bliss, entirely offended at the thought. “Why would I do that?”
“It’s a lucky hat,” replied Maven, pushing herself up on an elbow and tilting her head at Bliss. A moment passed then she suddenly yanked Bliss forward and the younger woman found herself straddling Maven’s lap. Bliss scowled at the older woman who offered a reckless grin as she said, “Maybe you’d beat me if you had it.”
“Hats can be lucky?” asked Bliss skeptically, refusing to play whatever game Maven was up to.
“My hat is lucky,” Maven corrected and she craned her head around, her brow furrowing at the empty status of the warehouse.
“Everybody else went home while you were taking a nap,” said Bliss, unable to help her sudden onset of cattiness.
Maven drew her gaze slowly back to Bliss, a smug smile curving on her lips and it was right then that Bliss began to feel very nervous about her current situation. “All alone,” Maven declared, sounding very satisfied with this.
“Maven,” said Bliss, sounding as nervous as she felt. She tried to get up but her hips were seized by strong hands that were warm on her skin, sliding in between the material of her t-shirt and low rise jeans. “Let me up,” she demanded.
“You want to know why my hat is lucky?” asked Maven, ignoring Bliss’ demand, wearing a blithe expression. Bliss considered making a smart ass reply but she found her brain temporarily short circuited as Maven’s fingers slid over her skin, making nonsensical patterns on her stomach and the small of her back. Suddenly finding it altogether hard to think, Bliss just shook her head and Maven chuckled then drawled, “It’s because I get lucky when I wear it.”
Unable to help herself, Bliss released a snort of laughter, and rather than get pissed as she expected, Maven formed a wide smile and looked strangely charmed at Bliss’ reaction to her line. When she was done, Bliss regarded the other woman and said, “That was really bad. You know that, right?”
“Maybe,” Maven allowed, her lips quirking into a grin. She paused to bounce her legs, sending Bliss tumbling forward, putting their faces just a breath apart and Maven’s hands cupped her ass and Bliss gasped at the sensation. “You want me to stop and you can scream out sexual harassment, Ruthless. It’ll be our safe word.”
“We need a safe word?” Bliss questioned, blinking at the idea of this, wondering what the purpose would be.
“Only if you want me to stop,” chuckled Maven. Arching an eyebrow and looking at Bliss expectantly, she said, “Do you?” Swallowing hard and shaking her head no, Bliss watched, strangely motionless as Maven’s hands went to her belt buckle, undoing it with expertise, and tugging the zipper of her jeans down with certain purpose. Long fingers slid underneath her panties and Bliss buried her face in the crook of Maven’s neck, breathing in the scent of the older woman, she smelled like smoke and ink and it was oddly comforting in this moment. “You can say the word, Ruthless,” Maven’s voice rumbled in her ear. “And I’ll stop.”
Why was Maven asking that? She didn’t want her to stop, if she wanted her to stop, she would have made her stop. If derby had taught Bliss anything it was how to stand up for herself and she didn’t like the idea of Maven treating her like some delicate flower as if she was still competing in beauty pageants rather than playing roller derby. “I didn’t say stop,” retorted Bliss, her voice hard and on hearing this Maven formed a surprised expression, jerking back slightly, before she laughed long and loud.
“No,” Maven drew the word out affectionately. “You didn’t.”
Maven’s fingers resumed their path as she surged upwards, capturing Bliss’ lips in a kiss, and the younger woman felt undeniably pleased with herself as she sucked on Maven’s tongue. Somewhere in the back of her mind, when Pash was going on about symbolism and the unconscious, she realized this was what she wanted from Maven. She never wanted to be Maven, Bliss wanted to have her, to possess that arrogance and charm and have it for her own. Not wanting to share it with the fans or even the Holy Rollers or anyone else in the league. Bliss wanted Maven all to herself and now she finally had her.
They continued to kiss as Maven slid two fingers into her with a third caressing her clit and somehow it was all enhanced by the hand still holding onto her ass, kneading her cheeks and encouraging her into the stroking rhythm of the fingers inside of her. Bliss knew anyone could walk in at any time and that somehow added another dimension of excitement. Hell, she halfway expected to hear Smashley’s manic shout of her rollergirl name and a lecherous laugh from Eva Destruction at their antics but there was nothing but the sound of Bliss’ breathing, thick and desperate as she parted her lips from Maven’s and her fingers dug into the older woman’s shoulders, and she could see the impressions she was making and she absently wondered if they would leave marks. Maven increased the strength of her thrusts, causing her to moan and lose all coherent thought as her head fell forward and she muttered, “You’re a bitch.”
“But you like it,” drawled Maven, her voice low and rich, washing over Bliss like her orgasm, her body frozen in pleasure then she collapsed against the older woman. She wasn’t sure what to expect next but the slow and gentle retreat of Maven’s fingers and the careful zipping up of her jeans and rebuckling of her belt wasn’t among them. Just like the kiss to her cheek and those tan arms she admired more times than she cared to admit wrapping around her body to hold her close. After several moments, Bliss recovered enough to pull back and study Maven, who smirked at her observation and just as she opened her mouth to ask what this was, what it meant, and a slew of other complicated things, Maven pressed a finger to her mouth, silencing her. The scent and texture and taste of herself on her own lips silenced Bliss as much as the sight of Maven reaching up to remove her cowboy hat before depositing it with casual aplomb onto Bliss’ head. “There,” she said, cocking her head to one side, her smirk returning. “Now you can get lucky.”
Tipping up the brim of the cowboy hat, Bliss grinned at Maven, resting her hands on either side of the woman’s head, forcing Maven to recline backwards before she let her know with a passionate kiss and grind of her hips, just what she planned on using that luck for. Which, happily for them both, was precisely what Maven had in mind.
End
Brooke Cavendar liked to say, with affectionate derision, that Bliss wasn’t the most sensible child.
Whenever her mother warned her of things like the stove being hot or the electrical sockets being dangerous rather than avoid them Bliss felt compelled to see how hot the stove was by touching it and how dangerous the sockets were by sticking a knife into them. Both with less than brilliant results. She supposed it was that same part of her which made it impossible for her to just ignore the dozing figure of Iron Maven once their league meeting was at an end.
The Holy Rollers captain was sitting in the stands, legs stretched out in front of her and her cowboy hat covering her eyes. While everyone else cleared out of the warehouse, Bliss found herself creeping up the stands, walking on her tiptoes and feeling utterly ridiculous as she did so. Honestly, she didn’t know what it was about Maven that she couldn’t just leave alone. Even after three years of playing in the TXRD the woman was as abrasive as ever and seemed to possess a perpetually spoiled attitude.
Still, despite all that Bliss found herself drawn to Maven, and while she didn’t want to admit it, she knew it had to do with her introduction to roller derby. It was seeing Maven jam in that first bout that sucked Bliss in and it was Maven that made her want to play the sport and it was Maven that, to this day, she wanted to beat when she got on the track.
When Pash was in the midst of her introduction to psychology course she liked to say that Bliss had an unnatural fixation with Maven. That she symbolized an ideal that Bliss wanted to live up to or something like that but Bliss didn’t know anything of that sort. All she knew was that anytime Maven walked into the room her eyes were drawn to her and no one else.
She was in front of Maven now, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest beneath the slinky black top that covered a bare amount of skin, and Bliss reached out to lift up the cowboy hat but the moment she got close, her wrist was held in a strong grip.
“Ruthless,” Maven’s husky drawl came out from under the hat, not the least bit muffled from the material.
“Maven,” Bliss responded rather apprehensively, though she made no move to free herself from Maven’s hold.
Tipping up the cowboy hat, Maven smirked at Bliss and her fingers flexed, loosening her grip and trailing over Bliss' skin, drawing a pattern on the palm of her hand. “You trying to steal my hat?” she asked sardonically, lifting an eyebrow.
“No,” said Bliss, entirely offended at the thought. “Why would I do that?”
“It’s a lucky hat,” replied Maven, pushing herself up on an elbow and tilting her head at Bliss. A moment passed then she suddenly yanked Bliss forward and the younger woman found herself straddling Maven’s lap. Bliss scowled at the older woman who offered a reckless grin as she said, “Maybe you’d beat me if you had it.”
“Hats can be lucky?” asked Bliss skeptically, refusing to play whatever game Maven was up to.
“My hat is lucky,” Maven corrected and she craned her head around, her brow furrowing at the empty status of the warehouse.
“Everybody else went home while you were taking a nap,” said Bliss, unable to help her sudden onset of cattiness.
Maven drew her gaze slowly back to Bliss, a smug smile curving on her lips and it was right then that Bliss began to feel very nervous about her current situation. “All alone,” Maven declared, sounding very satisfied with this.
“Maven,” said Bliss, sounding as nervous as she felt. She tried to get up but her hips were seized by strong hands that were warm on her skin, sliding in between the material of her t-shirt and low rise jeans. “Let me up,” she demanded.
“You want to know why my hat is lucky?” asked Maven, ignoring Bliss’ demand, wearing a blithe expression. Bliss considered making a smart ass reply but she found her brain temporarily short circuited as Maven’s fingers slid over her skin, making nonsensical patterns on her stomach and the small of her back. Suddenly finding it altogether hard to think, Bliss just shook her head and Maven chuckled then drawled, “It’s because I get lucky when I wear it.”
Unable to help herself, Bliss released a snort of laughter, and rather than get pissed as she expected, Maven formed a wide smile and looked strangely charmed at Bliss’ reaction to her line. When she was done, Bliss regarded the other woman and said, “That was really bad. You know that, right?”
“Maybe,” Maven allowed, her lips quirking into a grin. She paused to bounce her legs, sending Bliss tumbling forward, putting their faces just a breath apart and Maven’s hands cupped her ass and Bliss gasped at the sensation. “You want me to stop and you can scream out sexual harassment, Ruthless. It’ll be our safe word.”
“We need a safe word?” Bliss questioned, blinking at the idea of this, wondering what the purpose would be.
“Only if you want me to stop,” chuckled Maven. Arching an eyebrow and looking at Bliss expectantly, she said, “Do you?” Swallowing hard and shaking her head no, Bliss watched, strangely motionless as Maven’s hands went to her belt buckle, undoing it with expertise, and tugging the zipper of her jeans down with certain purpose. Long fingers slid underneath her panties and Bliss buried her face in the crook of Maven’s neck, breathing in the scent of the older woman, she smelled like smoke and ink and it was oddly comforting in this moment. “You can say the word, Ruthless,” Maven’s voice rumbled in her ear. “And I’ll stop.”
Why was Maven asking that? She didn’t want her to stop, if she wanted her to stop, she would have made her stop. If derby had taught Bliss anything it was how to stand up for herself and she didn’t like the idea of Maven treating her like some delicate flower as if she was still competing in beauty pageants rather than playing roller derby. “I didn’t say stop,” retorted Bliss, her voice hard and on hearing this Maven formed a surprised expression, jerking back slightly, before she laughed long and loud.
“No,” Maven drew the word out affectionately. “You didn’t.”
Maven’s fingers resumed their path as she surged upwards, capturing Bliss’ lips in a kiss, and the younger woman felt undeniably pleased with herself as she sucked on Maven’s tongue. Somewhere in the back of her mind, when Pash was going on about symbolism and the unconscious, she realized this was what she wanted from Maven. She never wanted to be Maven, Bliss wanted to have her, to possess that arrogance and charm and have it for her own. Not wanting to share it with the fans or even the Holy Rollers or anyone else in the league. Bliss wanted Maven all to herself and now she finally had her.
They continued to kiss as Maven slid two fingers into her with a third caressing her clit and somehow it was all enhanced by the hand still holding onto her ass, kneading her cheeks and encouraging her into the stroking rhythm of the fingers inside of her. Bliss knew anyone could walk in at any time and that somehow added another dimension of excitement. Hell, she halfway expected to hear Smashley’s manic shout of her rollergirl name and a lecherous laugh from Eva Destruction at their antics but there was nothing but the sound of Bliss’ breathing, thick and desperate as she parted her lips from Maven’s and her fingers dug into the older woman’s shoulders, and she could see the impressions she was making and she absently wondered if they would leave marks. Maven increased the strength of her thrusts, causing her to moan and lose all coherent thought as her head fell forward and she muttered, “You’re a bitch.”
“But you like it,” drawled Maven, her voice low and rich, washing over Bliss like her orgasm, her body frozen in pleasure then she collapsed against the older woman. She wasn’t sure what to expect next but the slow and gentle retreat of Maven’s fingers and the careful zipping up of her jeans and rebuckling of her belt wasn’t among them. Just like the kiss to her cheek and those tan arms she admired more times than she cared to admit wrapping around her body to hold her close. After several moments, Bliss recovered enough to pull back and study Maven, who smirked at her observation and just as she opened her mouth to ask what this was, what it meant, and a slew of other complicated things, Maven pressed a finger to her mouth, silencing her. The scent and texture and taste of herself on her own lips silenced Bliss as much as the sight of Maven reaching up to remove her cowboy hat before depositing it with casual aplomb onto Bliss’ head. “There,” she said, cocking her head to one side, her smirk returning. “Now you can get lucky.”
Tipping up the brim of the cowboy hat, Bliss grinned at Maven, resting her hands on either side of the woman’s head, forcing Maven to recline backwards before she let her know with a passionate kiss and grind of her hips, just what she planned on using that luck for. Which, happily for them both, was precisely what Maven had in mind.
End