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Harmonic Tremor

by Te

[Story Headers]

Harmonic Tremor
by Te
May 5, 2004

Disclaimers: If they were mine, I wouldn't be here.

Spoilers: Vague ones up through Outsiders #11 or so.

Summary: Grace and Anissa bond.

Ratings Note: NC-17.

Author's Note: I need a reason?

Acknowledgments: To Livia, Jack, and L.C. for audiencing, encouragement, and helpful


Grace's apartment is kind of a surprise. It's neat, for one thing, and the whole place comes off as... airy. Which Anissa supposes makes sense. Grace couldn't live in just any apartment. The part of her that's only a year away from comparison shopping for student housing wonders just how much you'd have to pay for ceilings this high in Manhattan.

Then again, a year ago, she wasn't getting paid what could only be described as a phenomenal amount of money for... being a hero.

And... okay, a few issues there. Her father never got paid for this sort of thing, and it feels kind of wrong to take money for it, but then --

"Didn't think he was your type." There's a smirk in Grace's voice.

Anissa blinks, and realizes that she's apparently been staring at Grace's poster of Ozzy Osbourne for... who knows how long. Ew. "Er... he really isn't."

There's a serious creak from behind her that's probably Grace settling in on her admirably large couch. "Then...?"

Anissa looks back over her shoulder and, sure enough, Grace is doing her unconscious best to make the couch look tiny, not to mention the beer bottle that looks almost toy-like in her hand. Anissa shrugs. "Just thinking about the money."

"I wondered when you would." Grace takes a long swallow.

"I'm sorry...?"

A snort. "God, you're cute. I just figured that if any of us started having issues about getting paid for this gig, it'd be you."

"I'm not... okay, I am. A little."

"Cops pull a check. Firemen pull a check." Grace shrugs. "Stop worrying. You'll give yourself wrinkles."

"But --"

"I've been working security pretty much forever, kid. This is just... another way to do it."

Anissa crosses her arms and leans back against the wall. "We're more than 'security.'"

Another smirk. "Bet your ass we are. Hence the bigger paycheck."

"I don't know, Grace. I mean... it's a little off. 'Sure, we'll use our miraculous powers to save you from the evil supervillains, just as soon as your check clears?'"

"You know, I've actually been thinking about this."

"I'm listening."

"You remember that talk we had about your Dad? About how he was one of the first?"

Anissa nods.

"Okay, see..." Grace gestures vaguely with the bottle. "Maybe there's a reason why he was one of the first. Like... all of these old White guys with their hideouts and their souped-up cars and their equipment. It costs, you know?"

She grins at the floor. "Dad used to tell me stories about how much time he spent trying to come up with a suit that wouldn't rip to shreds every time he got into a fight."

"Exactly. And you know, working that Ozzy concert was a kick, and it paid pretty well, but it didn't pay Pequod-well, you know? And, what, I was supposed to work two jobs so I could afford to fight crime? Fuck that noise."

"Heh. Optitron should put that in their next press release. 'Subsidizing multicultural vigilantism since 2003.'"

Grace grins at her over the lip of the beer bottle. "Spoken like a girl who didn't apply for a single scholarship."

Anissa blinks. "Oh, we are not gonna get into the Affirmative Action thing."

"You're the one who brought up the money, princess. I'm just taking it to its natural conclusion."

"You're just fucking with me, is what you're doing, Grace."

Grace grins a little wider. "That, too. Hey, if it bugs you so much, donate your paycheck to some cute little orphans. Me? I think I'll go shopping."

Anissa takes a long, obvious look around. "Well. It's not like this place couldn't use it."

"Gonna give it the feminine touch? Buy me some window treatments? What the fuck is a 'window treatment,' anyway? Can't they just say curtains?"

"Maybe you should start small.. Like finding a shirt that fits."

Grace flips her off. "Pot and kettle, cleavage girl. At least I don't have to strip naked when I want to take a piss."

Anissa gives Grace her best sincere look. "My uniform honors my father's heritage as a hero."

Grace snickers at her, loud and honestly, and Anissa smiles at the floor. It's... a little odd being here. She kind of got the feeling that Grace only invited her back because Arsenal was training with Nightwing and she was bored. Anissa isn't entirely sure why she accepted, beyond the fact that she didn't really have anything better to do and...

She didn't want to be the antisocial one on the team. Nightwing is doing a damned good job with that all by himself, and it's not like Huntress had been all that fun to be around, either.

And now that she is here...

It really is kind of her move, whatever that move will be. Grace didn't have much to offer a guest here other than beer and pretzels, which Anissa had already refused. She's more of a cider person, and she really needs to stop staring at the floor like an idiot. She can come up with something to say. She can.


Completely failing.

Grace is frowning vaguely at her nails. Which is something.

"Do you... do you ever get them done? I mean... professionally."

Grace raises an eyebrow at her.

She really did just ask the woman about manicures. Crap. "I mean --"

"Security isn't really the kind of career that allows for a nice manicure, princess."

Anissa winces. "Yeah. I didn't really... think." It hadn't taken a week of patrolling before her own nails were pretty much destroyed. She can either concentrate on making her fingers super-dense -- and thus break everything she touches -- or just keep her nails short. "Sorry. I'm just..."

"Feeling a little awkward?" Grace is rolling the bottle between her palms, and Anissa wonders if she'd had to teach herself not to crush things that way.

Probably. "A little."

Grace gives her the kind of smile that wouldn't look out of place on some of her older relatives. "You know, I didn't actually expect us to be best girlfriends or anything."

"That doesn't seem like something you'd be interested in, no."

"I did, however, expect you to eventually sit the fuck down."

"Er --"

"C'mon, we can watch television or something. Maybe there's some weepy chick movie on and we can sigh over Brad Pitt's abs and the fate of women in man's cruel, cruel world."

Anissa stands up off the wall and gets a little closer. "That doesn't seem like your thing, either."

"Well, fuck no, but I'm trying to be a good host. You can invite me over next week and show me a tractor-pull."

Anissa blinks again. "You like tractor-pulls?"

Grace's grin is wolfish as she reaches out and yanks Anissa onto the couch. "No, but I bet you think I would."

Anissa pulls herself vaguely upright and mostly off Grace's lap. "You think I've made that kind of assumption about you?"

"'That kind of assumption.' Cute as a bug." Grace throws one arm over Anissa's shoulders and pulls the remote out from under the farthest couch cushion.

Anissa stares at Grace's hand.

Grace flips through the channels. "I think you've been trying to figure out what kind of dyke I am since you got a good look at me, princess." She pats Anissa's shoulder and keeps flipping. "You want me to make it easy on you, just ask."

"Er... I thought you and Roy...?"

"Are fucking like weasels whenever we get a chance? Absolutely." Grace's grin is even wider.

"Well, this... I mean... I sort of assumed you were... er... straight."

"Ooh, Near Dark is on. I need to own that DVD."

Grace likes quirky horror movies. Anissa makes note.

"I think I am. Mostly. I mean, I pretty much quit trying to figure out the boring details once I hit 'sex, yay.' Why kill myself angsting about it? It's not like most people don't take one look at my biceps and assume I'm a dyke."

"And your boots."

Grace snorts. "You try to buy cute shoes when you're a size sixteen wide."

Anissa settles back against Grace's arm and watches the stupid girl vampire flirt with the stupid boy sort-of-vampire. "There's always the drag queen stores."

Grace raises an eyebrow at her.

"I don't know too many seven foot tall women, but six footers aren't that rare where I come from."

The smile on Grace's face is a little off this time, and she stares down at her boots.

Anissa feels like she'd maybe said something wrong, but she doesn't have a clue what that might be. "Um..."

"I like shoes. And manicures."


"You walk in a place like that, looking like me..." Grace shrugs. "Anyway."

She doesn't actually need Grace to finish that sentence. It must be nice to be someone like Superman, who'd probably look just like anyone else -- and not even that much bigger -- if he was wasn't running around in that suit.

Grace would perch on one of those little stools and look silly, if she didn't just break them. "We could always go together."

A narrow-eyed look. It'll be witchier when Grace's hair has grown out again and she can go back to teasing it into that weird punk thing she has going on. As it is, she just kind of looks cute.

"You can help me pick out a better wig, and then we can go to a tractor pull."

On-screen, the creepy little boy vampire is hitting on the cute little girl human. "Look, Anissa..."

Grace doesn't say her name that often. "And then we can go beat each other up in the bunker's gym so no one can say we're being too girly."

Grace snorts again and shakes her head. "I didn't, actually, invite you over here so I could cry frustrated-girl tears on your shoulder."

"No, you brought me over here to hit on me."

A rueful smile. "But you like this better."

"I didn't say that. You keep trying to make me blush, one of these days it might work."

Like now. She isn't, though. Not really.

Not even when Grace puts two fingers under her chin and tilts her face up and leans in and --

Bites her neck, growling -- that's probably Grace's version of playful.

"You don't kiss?"

"Not on the first date," Grace says, and licks her way up to Anissa's ear.


"Yeah, 'oh,'" and Grace's teeth are hard and wet against her cheek. "You are cute. I've mentioned that, right?"

"Once or twice. That's enough for you?"

Grace licks her ear again, and it makes Anissa want to shake. "Hey, movies, invite out to get our nails done, deep emotional crap... we're practically dating now, princess."

Anissa does her best to catch her breath. "I like it better when you call me by name."

"Mmm, Anissa, Anissa, Anissa." Grace cups her throat with one hand -- one big, hard, strong hand, and tilts her head a little further to the side. "What do you like, Anissa?"

This. More biting. "You know, you never actually asked me what my sexuality is."

"Who says I care?" And Grace bites her earlobe and strokes her way down her chest, pushing between the bodice of the suit and her skin. "You might say something silly about being straight, and then where would we be?"

"On your couch, making out anyway?"

Grace laughs. "That's what you think, 'nissa. I don't fuck straight girls."

And she could definitely laugh about that -- she could laugh a lot -- but mainly she's busy being rolled down onto her back and getting stripped and getting -- kissed.

Grace tastes a lot like beer and a little like amusement, if that even has a taste, and --

"I thought you didn't kiss on the first date," she says, or tries to. It's hard to talk around Grace's tongue.

"It's after midnight. Second date."

"You're making this up as you go along, aren't you?"

"Shut up and help me get this thing off of you."

Anissa grins and sits up, reaching up and back for the zipper and getting yanked forward, back into Grace's lap.

"Mine," Grace says, and unzips Anissa herself, yanking the suit down and mostly off and staring at her breasts. Really staring, like a starving man in front of one of her mom's holiday dinners.

Anissa smirks and jiggles and thinks seriously about saying something about how Grace could just pull her own shirt out if she wanted to see a nice pair of boobs, but then thinking is kind of overrated, because... because.

A lot of boys have, when given the opportunity, treated her nipples like suck-toys, but Grace is serious about it, humming and sucking and nibbling and generally making it hard for Anissa to remember why she doesn't shove people's heads at her chest all the time.

"Mm," is what she manages to get out, and then there aren't many coherent sounds at all, because Grace is growling again.

"How much can you take?"


"You're pretty strong when you make yourself dense, so..."

"Oh... I. Um."

She takes it back. That narrow-eyed look is plenty witchy, especially since Grace bites her nipple and Anissa hears herself squeak and makes herself dense nearly on reflex. Grace oofs and laughs and holds on, muscles straining in her arms and --

"Oh God --"

Another growl and then Grace pushes them, launches them off the couch, and Anissa doesn't have time to make herself a normal weight again and she hears a crack, but... they don't fall through the floor. Good enough. Good --

"Jesus, Grace --"

Biting her way down Anissa's body, tugging on the suit until it's bunched up around her thighs and shoving her tongue into Anissa's belly button and then licking her way back up to her mouth.

Anissa sucks Grace's tongue in and she can't tell which of them is making that humming sound, and she doesn't think she cares. She shoves her hands into Grace's hair and wriggles and kicks until she can get the suit off past her boots and humps up before she can think.

"Mmm. Sex toys in the bedroom, 'nissa."


"We'll save that for the fourth date."

Which will be ten minutes from now, considering, but... it's been a while. That's what she's going to tell herself. Not since school, and she'd been more concerned with keeping her GPA as high as she could than with getting a date, and Grace's hands really are big, wrapping around her waist and sliding up her chest and -- "Nnn." Pinching and twisting her nipples for just -- not long enough, before moving up to her face.

Anissa bites Grace's thumb when she brushes it over her mouth, but even that doesn't make her slow down. She tugs off Anissa's wig and tosses it and straddles her and grinds and pets Anissa's arms and...

It's somewhere between being played with and being explored, and the look in Grace's eyes is bright and avid and curious. Very much a first time look, like maybe once she figures out what Anissa likes she's not actually going to stop.

The thought makes her heart pound. Or maybe it's the feel of the calluses on Grace's palms rubbing up against her nipples, making her arch and --

"Grace, please --"

"Absolutely." And Grace has the kind of grin that always makes Anissa want to double-check to make sure she doesn't have fangs. She doesn't, just lots of shiny white teeth, hidden for just a moment while Grace yanks off her shirt. The bra is next, and it's nice to see it gone on a number of levels.

It's not like Anissa doesn't understand why a woman who spends as much of her life fighting as Grace does would wear one, it's just that the lacy thing looks incongruous against all of that golden muscle.

And Grace's breasts really deserve to spend as much time as possible... exposed.

Grace snorts and jiggles at her.

Maybe she was doing some staring, too.

She reaches up and cups Grace's breasts, pushing until she can feel the weight of them against her palms, and then just pressing, because Grace has incredible pecs for... well, for anyone, and Anissa's nowhere near immune to that.

Grace stares down at her, violet eyes glittering and steady, even when her nipples start hardening against Anissa's fingers. Anissa swallows and thinks about all the things she could do, all the things Grace might want her to do, and she can't really decide if she's intimidated or just stupid with lust.

'Sex yay,' right.

She grins up at Grace and brings her knee up, shifting and pushing on Grace until she drops enough so that Anissa can rub at her sex through her cut-offs. And it's denim, but the heat of her comes right through. She's wet under there, and she rocks hard enough that Anissa has to dense herself up just to stay still and --

"Oh, nice -- fuck --"

That was for pinching her nipples, or maybe for the way Grace is grinding against her knee. Anissa thinks if she made herself any lighter Grace would be moving them, and the image in her head makes her flex. She can feel herself sweating, and she's naked except for her boots, and she can smell herself.

She can smell Grace, too.

And Grace isn't smiling anymore, just... it's almost a glare, but it doesn't look angry. Her mouth is hanging open, and she licks her lips while Anissa watches, eyes narrowing further. Every grind just feels wetter, dirtier, and there's sweat rolling down between Grace's breasts, faster when Grace pants, and Anissa bites her lip and pinches Grace's nipples harder.

Grace gasps and does it again when Anissa just holds the pressure, and then she moans, loud and long, and Anissa hasn't been this wet in a long time. She tries to squirm as little as possible -- she gets the feeling Grace wants her to keep her knee right there -- but has to growl a little herself. She wants.

And then Grace closes her eyes and tilts her head back and Anissa can't decide if it's a goad or an excuse. It doesn't matter. She takes one hand off Grace's breast and moves it between her thighs, and... God. She's so wet that she has to actually pinch her own clit before she can really feel anything, and she can't keep herself from doing it in the same rhythm she's using on Grace's nipple, and that's just...

She moans before she can stop herself, and Grace looks down at her again, eyes going wide before narrowing with hot, raw hunger.

Anissa really wants to say something witty, or at least something distracting, but she can't really make herself make words, as opposed to noise. Something about touching Grace just the way she's touching herself. Something about the way she can feel just how wet Grace is through those little shorts, about the way the sweat makes Grace's tattoos gleam like her eyes and -- "Grace."

Her voice is wrong to her own ears, rough and husky and desperate, and she wants to hear it again.

"Grace --"

"Oh, yeah." And Grace covers Anissa's hand on her breast with one of her own and reaches down with the other, tracing a blunt fingertip over and over Anissa's lips until Anissa has to gasp again. And then pushing it in, slow and hot, and Grace tastes like sweat. Anissa licks and sucks and watches Grace pant, feels her grind down on her knee, over and over.

And Grace pushes her finger in deeper, oddly delicate-looking pink tongue slipping out between her teeth. Anissa wants to suck that, too. Wants to just -- she isn't sure what she wants, and suddenly Grace laughs again.

"Every man in this building is pitching a tent right now and they have no idea why. Suck it, Anissa. Here, I'll give you another."

And it's... it's obscene. Two Grace-sized fingers stretching her lips and fucking her mouth, and Anissa moans and stares up into Grace's eyes and shifts her fingers on Grace's breast just enough to scrape at her nipple with her pitifully short nails.

Grace hisses between her teeth and bucks. "Fuck, do that -- fuck yeah. I'm so close --"

Close to coming. She's going to make Grace come, and Anissa isn't sure if she's breathing anymore. She isn't sure she remembers how to breathe, but that kind of makes it better. She scratches ragged little circles around and around Grace's nipple and bounces her foot a little.

She's dense enough that the floor creaks ominously every time, but Grace is shouting wordless now, shoving her fingers in almost deep enough to gag Anissa and shaking, and Anissa feels herself get even wetter, and nothing short of a swipe with a towel will get her dry enough to get the friction she needs, and she couldn't look away from Grace even if she could make herself try.

All of that golden skin and all of that muscle, tensing and flexing and flexing more, and she's groaning and stroking Anissa's forearm like a dick and Anissa hears herself whimper and watches Grace jerk and shudder with orgasm and whimpers again.

Grace pulls her fingers out of Anissa's mouth. "Nnnn. Fuck, princess."

"Say my name," and that comes out a lot... louder than she meant it to, but Grace just grins lazily down at her.


And slides down Anissa's thigh like it's playground equipment, landing hard enough on her belly that it would knock the wind out of her if she wasn't so dense.


"Grace --"

"Anissa, Anissa, Anissa... I'm so gonna fuck the hell out of you now. Okay?"

Anissa blinks. "I... okay."

Grace winks and scoots back until she can get one hand under Anissa's knee and then lifts it, resting it on her shoulder. She shoves Anissa's other thigh out wide and stares down at Anissa's sex, licking the edges of her teeth. "Well, hello, cutie..."

"I don't think it's going to answer you, Grace."

"You never know in this crowd."

"Do me a favor and don't tell me that story."

Grace smirks at her and knocks Anissa's hand away with a casual swat, pressing hard on Anissa's clit with her thumb and rubbing. "Depends. You gonna be a good girl?"

"I -- oh..."

"Say yes."

Anissa takes a deep ragged breath and pushes against Grace's thumb. "Y-yes..."

"Mmm. Say 'fuck me, Grace.'"

"Fuck, Grace --"

"Heh. Close enough."

And then Grace slides down and twists and shoves in, all the way to the second knuckle in one long, hard thrust that makes Grace arch and -- that was probably a whine. God, Grace is going to make her sound like a porn movie. Grace wants her to sound like a porn movie. "Oh God..."

"Yeah. Can you get off like this, or...?"

"Just don't stop."

"Anything you say, 'nissa." And then Grace licks the ankle of her boot and starts pushing in rhythmically, fucking her, and it's just the same as a dick and it's completely different. Better. She's never had a man finger her, and it's always different when she does it herself, but Grace's fingers have all of the skill that fingers should, and they're huge.

Long and hard and twisting in her, pushing and stretching and no, she can't usually come just from this, but right now she just wants Grace to keep doing exactly that, making something shudder inside her like a struck bell, filling her up and riding her, and if Anissa keeps her eyes closed she doesn't have to see Grace watching her.

She can just feel it, all that heat and lust like she's some perfect sex toy, like the way she's moving and moaning is doing it for Grace just as much as Grace's fingers are doing it for her.

"Please," she says, and she doesn't really know what she's begging for, but when Grace starts fucking her faster Anissa decides it must've been just that. It's good. It's... god. The floor is hard under her back and Grace's teeth are sharp in her ankle, even through the boot, and she's pretty sure she didn't envision this as part of her brand new life as a superhero, but it's good.

Even better when she starts playing with her own nipples and Grace spits out her name like just another curse.

"God fucking damn, you're hot," and now it's fast and hard, and Anissa drags her free leg up and plants her foot and bucks into it, making herself scream with it, louder when Grace twists her fingers again and presses her thumb back against her clit.

"Oh God -- oh God --"

"Gonna come for me, baby?"

And she can't... she can't control anything anymore. She hears a thud and a crack and knows she's banging her head against the floor and her heel is slipping on the sweat on Grace's back, Grace's bare back and if she opens her eyes... fuck. She's moving Grace, and Grace's breasts are bouncing with every thrust, and she's biting her lip and sweating just as much as Anissa is and that tongue is peeking out again and Anissa comes shouting, grinding against Grace's hand.

And groaning with every flex because they make her feel Grace that much more.

"I... damn."

Grace snickers and shifts and Anissa flexes around her again.

"No, stay there. Just... for a minute."

"Mmm. Sure." And Grace wiggles her fingers, making Anissa shudder a little more before shrugging Anissa's leg off her shoulder and moving down to lie beside her.

Anissa tries to catch her breath.

And then just gives up and looks up at Grace, because... she's beautiful. She always is, in that wild, just-might-break-your-legs way, but now she's also...

There's something almost gentle about the look on her face, and something smug as hell, and something just kind of calm. It brings out the woman in her features, more than anything else, and makes Anissa want to... stare exactly like she's doing.

Maybe it just looks like she's sex-stupid.

She feels sex-stupid.

"You know, they say this stuff is good for your nails," Grace says idly.

This 'stuff' being what Anissa's busily leaking all over Grace's fingers. "I think you read better magazines than I do."

Grace looks even more smug. "As if that's a shock." She wiggles her fingers again. "Sooner or later I'm gonna be hungry."

"Aren't your arms long enough to reach the cordless? Order us a pizza."

"My arms aren't actually long enough for me to open the door from here, Anissa."

"I'll let you move when the food arrives."

Grace snorts. "Well, aren't we demanding?"

Anissa wants to turn her head to hide her smile, but it would be kind of obvious, considering their positions, so... she doesn't bother. "You're the one who wanted to be a good host. You have to take care of your guest's needs."

Grace rests her head on her fist and crooks her fingers. "Do I?"

Anissa moans and feels herself flex again, and if she reduces her density she can... moan a little more. The intensity is amazing. "Yeah, you really do."

"Then in that case..." And Grace pulls out, stands, and lifts Anissa, throwing her over her shoulder --

"Hey --"

And taking her for a walk.

Presumably towards the bedroom, though all Anissa can really see is small of Grace's back. Well. She supposes she asked for this.

Anissa grins to herself and licks Grace, tasting sweat. Grace makes a yipping noise and swats the back of her thigh.

She's definitely taking the woman out to get her nails done. Something nice and pink.

So they'll match.


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Fandom:  Other (Outsiders)
Title:  Harmonic Tremor
Author:  Te   [email]   [website]
Details:  Standalone  |  NC-17  |  *slash*  |  26k  |  05/05/04
Characters:  Anissa, Grace
Pairings:  Anissa/Grace
Summary:  Grace and Anissa bond.

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