Authors Note: Hello all! This is my first Skins fic; that said, I still want your honest opinion on my writing, 'cause constructive crtitcism ftw :) I warn you now, updates may take a while, as I'm currently doing exams (though they're nearly over now, thank God) and I'm still trying to figure out this site. I am determined to finish this though, so if you want me to continue, just drop a review to let me know what you think. Thanks :)

Disclaimer: Skins isn't mine, no copyright infringement intended.

Emily finds it first.

They are in Naomi's room, in her bed—Emily's naked, the way Naomi likes her best—and kissing fiercely to swallow the sounds Emily is making, little moans and sighs that increase in volume and pace the harder Naomi sucks on her neck, the faster she presses her fingers into Emily's cunt. Her skin is burning; Naomi's fingers curl upwards and rub, hard, her tongue rough against Emily's as she comes. They break apart, and Naomi makes sure Emily's watching as she slowly sucks her fingers clean, smirking at the way her breath hitches and the strangled sound that escapes her throat.

"Fucking hell, Nae," she exhales shakily, laughing softly. "You're killing me."

Naomi just grins at her, falling onto her back beside the beautiful redhead, pulling her in close, stroking the skin of her stomach. "It's not my fault you're such a horny teenage boy. I mean, God, show some restraint, Em."

Emily just laughs, pushes at her shoulder. "Maybe I could, if you weren't so inherently sexy at everything," she says, looking up into Naomi's eyes and smiling. "Y'know, for someone infamous for their sexuality complex, you sure seem to enjoy sex with girls."

Naomi's grin grows, and she casts a fond look at Emily. "Just the one girl, Em."

Emily kisses her then, traces her lips with her hot tongue until they part and she slips inside, exploring. It's slow, at first; quickly turns fast and passionate when Emily snakes a hand up Naomi's shirt, under her bra, and soon her fingers are skating over Naomi's nipple at the same pace her tongue brushes Naomi's own. Naomi moans, arching into the touch, and Emily rolls on top of her more fully, pulling away from her lips to rid her of her shirt and bra, crashing their bodies together soon afterwards.

"Fuck," Naomi gasps, breathing heavily as Emily sucks on her tits, pushing her skirt off with her hands, trailing them back up Naomi's thighs slowly, stopping just short of her cunt. "Please, Em."

Heated brown eyes lock on desire-filled blue, and Emily smirks, presses a soft kiss to the blonde's lips before licking and nipping her way down Naomi's body, over her breasts, pausing at her stomach to feel it tense, muscles flexing, everytime she so much as breathes on Naomi's skin.

Pauses for an entirely different reason when she casts her eyes downward.

"What the fuck?" Emily frowns, ceases her ministrations, causing Naomi to groan in frustration. "Emily, please, I need you so fucking much right now—"

"Naomi," Emily says, quietly, worried. "What did you do?"

Confused by the redhead's actions, and concerned at her tone of voice, Naomi props herself up on her elbows, glancing down at Emily; she's hovering over her abdomen, brow creased with worry, nimble fingers splayed across her skin. "What are you—"

She stops. Notices what has captured Emily's attention; her girlfriend's hands are flat across her stomach, index fingers and thumbs touching, framing a patch of her skin.

Skin that is stained.

A dark, ugly purple bruise spreads downwards from under her bellybutton, creeping outwards from beneath Emily's hands, large and threatening. Naomi is shocked; she stares hard at the imperfection, tries to remember banging into something, or Emily biting hard enough to do that much damage. Draws a blank.

Tearing her eyes away from her body, she meets Emily's; her insides twist into knots at the perplexity and anguish she sees staring back at her. She clears her throat, remembers Emily's question. "I don't—fuck, Em, I have no idea."

Emily's frown deepens, and she sits up, prompting Naomi to do the same, until they're facing each other; Naomi catches the moment when Emily shifts her eyes, her cheeks reddening, and she knows her girlfriend well enough by now to know that she's going to ask something she doesn't know how Naomi will react to. She crawls closer to Emily on the bed, clasps her hands, smiles softly, is granted a nervous curl of the lips in return.

Swallowing, Emily tries, "You're not—I mean, has anyone…" Emily takes a deep breath, fixes Naomi with a look so scared that Naomi aches, and says, in one long breath, "Has someone been hurting you?"

Naomi's eyes widen, and Emily's eyes drop to the mattress and clench shut, anticipating Naomi biting her head off. She considers it, for a moment; someone could only really be one of two people, and the fact Emily thinks her mum or Kieran are capable of something so godamned awful makes Naomi fucking furious; annoying as fuck they may be, but they're not fucking child beaters, and Naomi opens her mouth to tell Emily as much, anger creeping up her throat—she stops when she realises Emily's eyes are still screwed shut, and she's shaking slightly; she remembers Emily's reluctance to ask her in the first place, wary of her reaction; it dawns on her suddenly that Emily expected her to yell, but she asked anyway, had to make sure Naomi was okay; she loves her that fucking much.

It makes her heart hurt, sometimes, how much Emily cares.

Anger draining, Naomi lifts her hand to Emily's cheek, smoothing out the creases in her skin with her fingertips until Emily finally opens her eyes, looking apologetic, yet not retracting the question (Naomi loves her all the more for it). Naomi sighs, tries a smile. "Of course not, Em. Don't be fucking ridiculous."

Emily visibly relaxes at the reply, looking so relieved her suspicions were wrong –and that Naomi didn't explode at her—that the blonde can't help but kiss her, repeatedly, fleeting little french kisses that warm her from the inside out. Emily's holding back, though—Naomi's learned to tell with these things—and Naomi gently grips her face with both hands, eager to stop Emily worrying. "Don't worry about it, Ems. I probably got it from that protest I was at last week, when the police got involved," she says, reassuringly. "Fucking pricks," she adds, with an eye roll and a smirk, for good measure.

It works. Emily laughs at her, pokes her in the ribs. "Be more careful next time, yeah?" She grins devilishly. "Cause I'm only really in this because of your hot body, and if you start getting beat up by policeman or angry Republicans, I might not be so inclined to shag you as much—"

Cunt, Naomi thinks, as she shuts her up with a kiss.

Emily finds it first; it's Naomi who finds the others.

It's much, much later, when the sky is bruised with pinks and purples and Emily has gone home—("Mum's less likely to be an insufferable cunt if I go home and eat some fucking soup every so often")—that Naomi decides she should really get up at some point, because there's college tomorrow after all, and she has some Politics coursework to finish and she hates disappointing Kieran, who practically lives with her now and it would be near impossible to ignore his fucking glaring or whatever. Sighing, Naomi tosses off her duvet, the smell of Emily and sex hanging in the air, making her smile, and wanders over to her dresser, with the intention of finally putting some clothes on.

She freezes on the spot when she catches sight of herself in the mirror.

Her back is covered in bruises; a dozen black smears painted on her skin, an ugly path trailing from her left shoulder blade down to the base of her spine, like fat ink blots on white paper.

Fuck, Naomi thinks. Fuck.