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thelonelylakebreathing underwater. all elite wrestling, julia/kris. pre-wrestledream locker room encounters. 250w, rated m. for a prompt at sapphic summer 2024.
"Do you remember the first time you lost to me?"
Pressed up against the cool tile of the locker-room wall, three of Kris's fingers pressing down heavy on her tongue and filling her mouth with the sharp taste of hand sanitiser and sweat, Julia couldn't speak even if she wanted to.
Kris doesn't seem to need an answer, her steady murmur a second, more painful heartbeat against Julia's neck. "Not even two years ago, but you were just a little girl, and I was barely human."
Impossible, that it has and hasn't been that long. Time stretches thin and strange around them in the ring, in the House, and Julia twists her hands in Kris's hair, anchoring herself in the one shred of control she can find.
If she pulls— if Kris's body tenses against hers and her murmured litany trails off in a moan that might be one of pain— it isn't a loss.
Julia's head is swimming, breath trapped in Kris's hand and blood throbbing between her legs where all she can feel is Kris's nails against her skin, so close to piercing through.
They've never been here before. They'll never be anywhere else, not now that she's had a taste of this — possibility unfurling the same way her body opens, half under her control.
"Don't worry," Kris says, and Julia's body is sliding down the wall, vision greying as all awareness of her body narrows down to the sensation of being filled. "It'll feel better this time."
"Do you remember the first time you lost to me?"
Pressed up against the cool tile of the locker-room wall, three of Kris's fingers pressing down heavy on her tongue and filling her mouth with the sharp taste of hand sanitiser and sweat, Julia couldn't speak even if she wanted to.
Kris doesn't seem to need an answer, her steady murmur a second, more painful heartbeat against Julia's neck. "Not even two years ago, but you were just a little girl, and I was barely human."
Impossible, that it has and hasn't been that long. Time stretches thin and strange around them in the ring, in the House, and Julia twists her hands in Kris's hair, anchoring herself in the one shred of control she can find.
If she pulls— if Kris's body tenses against hers and her murmured litany trails off in a moan that might be one of pain— it isn't a loss.
Julia's head is swimming, breath trapped in Kris's hand and blood throbbing between her legs where all she can feel is Kris's nails against her skin, so close to piercing through.
They've never been here before. They'll never be anywhere else, not now that she's had a taste of this — possibility unfurling the same way her body opens, half under her control.
"Don't worry," Kris says, and Julia's body is sliding down the wall, vision greying as all awareness of her body narrows down to the sensation of being filled. "It'll feel better this time."
