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1 Disclaimer: Noir and associated characters belong to Koichi Mashimo and Bee Train Studios. I make no profit off this fanwork.
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2
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3 Notes: For the Temps Mort colour challenge. Written in 43 minutes, which is a new record for me. And I didn't even work myself up into a frothing frenzy over research! Amazing. Then again, it is very short. This story contains non-explicit f/f.
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4
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5 Rating: PG-13
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6
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7
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8
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9 --------------------------------------------------------------------------------
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10
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11
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12 Complementary Colours
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13 By Yasminm
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14
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15 the_jentayu@hotmail.com
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16
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17
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18 Mireille was fond of life's little comforts, like the strong flavours of the minestrone soup she made for dinner. Kirika spooned out the little curls of pasta, sliding the silky texture across her tongue. Mireille's white teeth bit through the stewed celery, light green cubes soaked with red. Kirika looked away, and washed the dishes that night.
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19
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20 Today the sheets were white with little snowflake patterns of blue, matching the deep blue duvet. Kirika could still smell the softener on the cotton sheets, overlaid by the burnt tang of the dryer. On the other side of the bed, Mireille was brushing her hair with the careful vanity of someone who had received glowing compliments as a child. It lay over her shoulders, doll-coloured blonde.
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21
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22 Kirika leaned forward, stretching her hand. She knew when Mireille sensed her approach by the sudden stillness of Mireille's shoulders, but there was no resistance as she ran the tips of her fingers over the bony curve that led to Mireille's right arm. Her skin was darker than Mireille's, but she thought that if she squinted hard enough she could see the same primary colour in the flecks at the back of Mireille's hand.
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23
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24 Mireille turned, the sharp edges of her mouth flicking up. Her lips tasted of minty toothpaste, fading into the bland chemical flavour of her all-natural moisturiser as Kirika's mouth moved to her chin. Her elbows dug into the duvet, leaving deep impressions as she shifted farther to the centre. The bed did not creak underneath them, and the sudden movements of Mireille's long legs did little to dislodge the nearby lamp.
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25
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26 She followed Kirika's eyes to the gun under her pillow, the metal glint reflected in Kirika's eyes. Mireille's cheek pressed against the hilt of the gun, almost by accident. Kirika watched as strands of gold hair brushed over black steel, slowly sinking underneath downy whiteness by the slide of Mireille's fingertips.
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27
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28 For a second, blonde lashes veiled Mireille's blue eyes.
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29
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30 Kirika leaned down, and ran her tongue on the underside of Mireille's breasts. They were pale, with pink lines where the bra strap had cut into her flesh.
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31
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32
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33
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34
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35 -owari-
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