‘there’s something wrong with me’

“…you’re probably thinking, ‘Kate, you’ve known about me coming for like a week. What stopped you from cleaning days ago?’ and I see you and I hear you. But it’s just that my focus has been completely shot ever since you told me you were coming to visit. And I was so excited that I guess I didn’t—“

“Kate, it’s fine,” you cut your girlfriend off with a laugh, tugging her closer by the waist. “I love your place, it looks great.”

Kate exhales a breath, smiling shyly. Kate hadn’t taken into account just how much the distance would affect her. A part of her had been worried that the two of you would fall out of touch. But thanks to the influx of FaceTime calls and selfies sent back and forth, no such thing had happened. And now that you were standing in front of her again, Kate felt like she was walking on sunshine.

“Sorry,” Kate finally says, fiddling with the drawstrings of the flannel hoodie she’d stolen from you during Christmas. “I’m just so glad that you’re here. I feel like an excitable puppy,”

“Oh, I can tell,” you tease. “Your tail is wagging and everything.”

Kate swats at your shoulder and you laugh again, pulling her back into you. When she’s close enough, you press a kiss to her temple. Kate sighs in content, wrapping her arms around your waist and burying her face in your shoulder, breathing in deeply.

“I missed you so much,” Kate says.

“I bet I missed you more,” you reply, reaching out to smooth her hair back from her face.

Kate speaks again, her voice muffled into your shoulder. “You don’t wanna bet against me, Barton. You’ll lose,”

You scoff fondly, pulling back from the embrace. Kate is expecting another barb aimed at her, but instead, you cup her face in your hands and pull her in for a sweet kiss. One that Kate sinks into instantly, her arms coming up to wind around your neck. When she lets out a quiet hum into the kiss, you smile, tilting your head for a better angle, your hands squeezing her hips.

You wind up pulling away long before Kate is ready, leaving the archer chasing after your lips.

“So, got anything in your cabinets or fridge that could pass for dinner or do we need to order in?” you ask once the two of you have separated.

Kate suddenly looks a little sheepish, scratching her head. “Yeah, uh…you’re looking at the least domestic lesbian on the planet, ever. I can’t cook to save my life, so…might be a takeout night.”

You snicker, shaking your head. “Well, good because we have that in common. Pizza it is.”

***

After two pizzas and a shared bottle of wine that Kate found in the back of her fridge, the two of you snuggle up on Kate’s couch to watch a thriller you’d found in the Netflix backlog. It wasn’t all that engaging, but you and Kate had mutually agreed that the female lead was hot and therefore, the only reason the movie was watchable. But even with the eye candy on screen, Kate couldn’t stop looking at you.

You can feel Kate’s eyes burning into the side of your face, but every time you glance her way, she’d quickly turn her gaze back to the TV. You finally decide to call her out on it.

“You okay?” you ask, nudging Kate’s shoulder.

Kate’s cheeks warm as she darts her gaze away again, hand coming up to scratch the back of her head. “Who, me? Yeah, yeah I’m fine. Just uh…zoned out for a second. Are you good? Is the movie boring you to death? I don’t blame you. The plot’s kinda convoluted and the hot female cop does very little to mitigate that…”

You stare at Kate as she rambles again, a smile slowly making its way across your face. “You’re really fucking cute, you know that?” You say, your words completely throwing off Kate’s growing tirade.

The tips of her ears go bright red and she leans forward to hide her face in your shoulder. “Ugh, sorry. I feel like I’m making this weird,” she apologizes.

Your brows furrow. “Making what weird?”

“This,” Kate pulls back, gesturing vaguely between herself and you. “I feel like I’m struggling to find my footing right now because the last four months, I’ve only gotten to look at you through a screen. And now you’re here, and you’re real, and you’re so damn pretty,” you give her a soft, fond smile at this. “…and I’m just feeling so many things right now,” Kate finishes.

“Yeah?” You rub gentle patterns into Kate’s hip with your thumb. “Like what? Talk me through the ‘so many things’ you’re feeling right now,”

Kate looks up at you through her lashes. “Well…relief, for one,”

“Okay,” you nod. “What else?”

Kate thinks for a second. “Uh…happiness. Definitely happiness. Excitement, though I guess that’s in the same vein as happiness. And, well…” she bites her lip, and you can practically see the wheels turning in her head, so much weight in just those two words.

You hum low in your throat, guiding Kate closer in your lap. “Well?” you prompt. “I’m sure there’s more you’re not saying, Kate,”

Kate exhales slowly and meets your eyes. “You promise not to tease me?”

You suck your teeth playfully. “Well, I don’t wanna lie to you, I might. But I’ll try not to,”

Kate rolls her eyes, but a soft chuckle follows. “Okay, fine, I’ll just spit it out. I may or may not have been thinking about…being intimate with you.”

Your eyes light up at this new information. You were more amused than you were shocked. Because if you were being honest, you sort of figured that’s where this was going. That, and it wouldn’t have been hard to suss out anyway seeing as Kate wears every single emotion on her face, despite how chill she claims to be.

“Really?” you reply.

Kate’s face goes a delightful shade of pink. “We’ve never really…d-done it, you know? Unless making out and feeling each other up in your childhood bedroom on Christmas night counts, which…I don’t think it does—“

“You’ve been thinking about it since then?” You ask softly.

Kate swallows hard and nods, making sure to meet your eyes with her admission. “Y-yeah. A lot since then. And then, you sent me that selfie a few weeks ago, with your hair down and your sleeves rolled to your elbows, and…fuck, I melted. And I thought about it even more and I…may or may not have had to help myself,”

Your smile widens, something hot flaring to life in your gut. “You touched yourself to my picture?” you ask.

Kate groans, covering her face. “You don’t have to put it that way,”

You laugh. “Well, how else should I put it, Kate? Isn’t that what you did?”

“Yes, but you don’t have to be so blunt!” Kate whines from behind her hands.

You smirk, taking Kate’s hands in yours and gently guiding them away from her face. “Kate, babe, look at me,”

Kate hesitates before meeting your eyes. The pout that’s resting on her lips right now is too damn cute, and you could melt right then and there.

“You’re not alone,” you say. “I’ve thought about it too,”

“You have?” Kate asks, searching your eyes for any signs of deceit.

“I have,” you confirm. “And…I may or may not have had to take care of myself on some lonely nights while thinking about you,”

“Wow,” Kate breathes. “How has this never come up on any of our FaceTime calls?”

You chuckle at that. “Because I think both of us were of the mind to try really, really hard to be good. But Kate,” your hand slides up into her hair and you gingerly guide her closer, reveling in the soft gasp you seem to pull from her lips. “We don’t have to be good anymore,”

A shiver runs down Kate’s spine, and she has just enough time to exhale before your mouth is on hers. The noise she lets out when your lips connect might’ve been embarrassing if she cared. But she didn’t care, as evidenced by the way she tilts her head to deepen the kiss and scrambles to wrap her arms around your neck.

You heft Kate into your lap without breaking the kiss. Kate lets out an undignified squeak that’s so damn cute, it makes you snicker against her mouth. Her legs wrap around your waist and you hold her there, your thumbs resuming their hypnotic passes on Kate’s hips.

Kate could feel her skin breaking out in goosebumps everywhere your hands went, leaving her moaning desperately into your mouth. You swallow the sound. Kate’s fingers disappear into your hair as your kiss slowly devours her. She was so dizzy, but it was the best feeling she’d ever felt in her life.

After what could’ve either been twenty hours or twenty seconds, you slowly break the kiss in order to speak. A murmured “Hey,” against Kate’s lips before kissing her upper lip and nibbling on the lower one. “Do you trust me?”

Kate has to fight to cut through her kiss-addled brain fog to answer you. “Y-yeah, of course,” she breathes. “I do, I trust you,”

You smile, moving your mouth to Kate’s neck and leaving lovebites under her jaw. Kate tilts her head back to facilitate you, her eyes fluttering closed.

“Raise your arms for me,” you mumble against her neck.

Body on autopilot, Kate raises her arms for you, letting you guide the flannel jacket off her shoulders, following by the plain white t-shirt she wore underneath. She shivers when the air hits her newly exposed skin. But then, your mouth is on her shoulder, and she has a different sensation entirely to pay attention to.

“You’re so beautiful, baby,” you mumble, breath hot against Kate’s skin as you guide her bra straps down her shoulders, then reach around her back to unclasp her bra. Kate’s breath catches when it falls away to reveal her bare chest.

You drink in the sight in front of you, pupils dilated. “So gorgeous, so sweet,” you continue to layer praise, the words blending together as your mouth connects with Kate’s throat, her cleavage, and then finally wraps around her left nipple.

Kate’s moan is music to your ears, and you let the sounds she unleashes guide you as you suck and nip at her hardened peak, swirling your tongue around it.

“Oh, dear god,” Kate gasps, her body arching into yours as her hand gets lost in your hair. “Jesus christ, you’re so good at that,”

You smile against Kate’s chest before releasing her nipple with a soft pop. Your eyes flick up to hers, just to see the look on her face before you attach your mouth to her right nipple and begin to suck, your hand reaching up to palm at the neglected breast.

Kate moans again, and now she can’t keep her body from reacting as she rocks her hips in your lap. You meet each of her thrusts with one of your own, your free hand dropping to her waist to guide her movements.

Kate’s eyes roll back and her tongue has begun to hang out of her mouth like a dog, but god, she didn’t care. She was too focused on the overwhelming stimuli—your hands and your hips and your mouth all working in tandem to bring her closer and closer.

“Baby,” Kate gasps as she grinds faster in your lap. “I can’t…I’m gonna…”

“I know, Katie, I can tell,” you mumble against Kate’s chest before kissing the breast you’d still been working on. “I want you to. Don’t hold back.”

And Kate most certainly does not hold back. When she comes, it’s with a cry of ecstasy, her hips stuttering against yours upon her release. You let her ride out her high, her hips still grinding sloppily on top of you, and you don’t let up your ministrations on her chest until she slows to a stop and sags against you.

“Oh god,” Kate says, panting hard as her head drops onto your shoulder. “Oh god…babe…that…fuck,”

You chuckle, running your hands up and down her back. “I don’t know if I’d go that far,” you drawl, which earns you another swat on your shoulder.

“No, I mean…that was so good,” Kate breathes. “Like, really good,”

“I agree. Who knew you were so vocal?” you reply.

Kate huffs. “I bet I can make you vocal too,”

You raise an eyebrow at her. “Now you’re okay with betting?”

Kate rolls her eyes before climbing off your lap and to her feet—a little unsteadily, might you add, and it was hard not to pat yourself on the back for being the cause of that.

“You know what? Just shut up and bring your cute ass upstairs. I’ll prove it,” Kate says, holding out her hand for you to take.

6:47 am

trin🖤

i’m sorry i got called into work, angel. it’s gonna be a busy day, so i may not be able to answer you quickly. breakfast is in the fridge, love you ;)

No matter what was going on, Trinity always ensured that you were taken care of. Even with her hard exterior, she was the most selfless person you knew.

8:55am

you

good morning :) thank you for breakfast🫶

Once you heard the cats scratching on the door, you slowly got out of bed. You languidly made your way to the kitchen to seek out the breakfast Trinity had set aside for you. A bowl of freshly cut fruit, yogurt, and granola was waiting for you. She only made food when you were around, which was all the time now. It became part of her love language now, spending time cooking things that you loved most.

You had resisted the urge to text Trinity for a while— you knew she was busy, but you couldn’t help that you had been thinking about her from the moment you opened your eyes this morning. Her warm touch that you’re so accustomed to and her signature scent that intoxicates you with a single whiff are the things you miss most in this moment.

Your thoughts start as pure lighthearted memories, but they slowly morphed into a heated territory. Those warm touches that slither down your stomach or the smell of her neck as your lips ghost across her skin and your tongue tastes the lingering notes of musk. You could even imagine the feeling of dragging your nails up the back of her neck and into her short hair, slightly pulling until she—

You had to stop, but you couldn’t not think about her whilst you were surrounded by her presence everywhere. What you wouldn’t give to have her here right now…

9:46am

you

thank you sm for breakfast. it was great, only wish i was eating something else ;)

It might’ve been corny, but it was the truth. To your surprise, your phone buzzes rather quickly.

9:48 am

trin🖤

woah there, a little early for innuendos isn’t it?

9:49 am

you

never when it comes to you <3 how’s work going?

Trinity reads your message but doesn’t answer. A minute or two later your phone starts ringing.

“Hey!”

“Hi baby,” Trinity greets and your knees practically get weak from the sleep deprived rasp in her voice. There’s something about talking to her on the phone that makes you hot and bothered. “I only have a couple minutes, but I thought I would check on you before going back in.”

“I’m doing alright, just wishing you were here,” you sighed.

“Mm, I bet you do.” You could feel the smirk through the phone.

“How’s work?”

“Oh you know, just putting that savior complex to good use as always.” You scoffed at her joke. “Been fishing debris out of wounds all day, Robby’s still punishing me I think.”

You sarcastically gasp. “What do you mean? He hasn’t forgotten about how you practically had my clothes off in the staff lounge and that’s why I’m on probation for hospital visits?”

“Okay, your clothes weren’t off,” Trinity starts, “my hand just so happened to slip under your shirt…”

“And my pants.”

“Whatever,” she dismisses. “It was worth it.”

“Ask me how you feel after your entire shift cleaning wounds and no surgery.”

“Such a brat,” Trinity huffs a laugh. “I should probably go.”

“Alright, I’ll talk to you later.”

“Bye, babe.”

Trinity hangs up the phone and the world is quiet again. All that remains is the flicker of feelings and lust that settles heavy in the air like fog. You had a long day ahead of you until Trinity came home.

It had been a few hours and between checking your phone every few minutes, doing laundry, and reading a book, boredom started to consume you. You hadn’t heard from Trinity since this morning, but you hadn’t stopped thinking about her since.

A terribly dirty idea conjured in your head, causing you to smirk to yourself. Who said you had to be the only one worked up?

You positioned yourself on the couch with a book in your lap and your shirt unbuttoned. The camera was angled down just right so you could see easily down your shirt and get a peek of your lace bra. You made sure to wear the big brown glasses that Trinity liked so much on you to top it off.

You took the photo and hit send.

—

“If anything starts to ooze or swell more than it has already, come by and see us and we’ll take care of you again.”

“Thank you so much!”

Trinity watched as the last of the non-critical train crash victims walked out of the ER. She gave a faint wave goodbye before her phone buzzed in her pocket.

She gasped as she opened your message. Her eyes fixed on where you knew she would love most. Trinity didn’t know how long she was sucked into a trance until someone approached her.

“Everything alright, Trinity?” Samira asked.

Trinity practically dropped her phone in surprise. “Oh! Uh nothing— I mean yes, everything is fine.” She shoved her phone deep into her pocket and made a mental note to look at the picture more later.

Samira smirked and nodded her head. “I just came by to tell you that the blood and CT results came back for that little boy— everything looks great.”

Trinity sighed. “That’s really good to hear, thank you. I’ll be right back,” she said shortly, her head nodding in the direction of the bathroom. She turned and walked at a quicker pace than she normally does.

When she made it to the bathroom, she entered the last stall and sat down. She pulled her phone out again and stared down at the picture. Her eyes admired the lace trimming that adored your breasts and her breathing shuttered.

When she saw your glasses she bit her lip to hold back a smirk. She couldn’t understand the logistics of why you looked so damn good with glasses on, but it worked like a charm every time.

As she stared at the picture, another message came through— it was another picture.

This time you sent a picture in the mirror. You were preparing to get into the shower when you decided to add fuel to the fire. The picture was from the waist up and you were fully nude, only covering your exposed nipple with your free hand. Plenty of skin to make Trinity’s mind wander.

Heat pooled to her cheeks and her core as she looked away from her phone. Your intentions were now crystal clear and Trinity wished more than anything she was off the clock.

She looked up at the ceiling and ran her hands through her hair. She wasn't sure how she was going to make it through the rest of her shift with your body freshly in her mind.

1:38pm

trin🖤

are you trying to kill me? bc if so, it’s absolutely working.

1:40pm

you

well i couldn’t let you have all the fun at work today ;)

1:40pm

trin🖤

i have a feeling i’ll be having a lot more fun when i come home from work. god, i wish i could touch you.

1:41pm

you

don’t worry, i’ll do it for you until you get here.

Trinity nearly choked on thin air. The image of you being so desperate for her touch was enough to make her squeeze her legs together. The temperature seemed to jump twenty degrees within seconds.

1:43pm

trin🖤

not without permission you won’t. you should know that by now, baby girl.

1:44pm

you

is that you giving me permission?

Trinity smirked and slipped her phone back into her pocket. She knew what she was doing was a little cruel, but it would pay off later when she came home to you. Trinity would be lying if these moments of brief torture didn’t bring her the smallest bit of joy, especially now that she could feel her phone buzzing from a stream of messages you were sending, most likely asking for permission. If Trinity had to wait, she wasn’t going to give you the pleasure of sweet relief either.

She approached the sink and splashed some cold water on her reddened cheeks before she went back to work. She regretfully left the bathroom with a head full of dirty thoughts and the end of her shift on her mind.

“What’s up with the red face?” Trinity jumped and cursed under her breath when Whitaker appeared out of thin air. “I’ve never seen you get embarrassed. Well, there was that one time with the scalpel-”

“No more talking,” Trinity said, “like, ever.” She walked away from Whitaker as his arms were shrugged in the air, not knowing what he did wrong.

If Trinity couldn’t come home, she sure as hell wanted to keep herself as busy as she could be to make the last few hours go by quicker. Even as she treated several patients, she found herself forgetting important steps in her diagnostic thought process and procedures— people were starting to catch on.

“Dr. Santos, do you have a minute?” Robby asked. Trinity sat at the bedside of a patient when Robby entered the room. She excused herself and followed him into the empty staff lounge, somewhere she didn’t see often as the ED was more demanding. “How are you feeling today?”

“Fine, I guess. Why, what have you heard?” Trinity nervously fidgeted in place.

“I can see for myself that your mind is elsewhere right now. The waiting room is starting to thin out, why don’t you go home.”

“I promise I’m fine, I just-”

“I don’t need anyone compromising patient care because they can’t focus. Everyone appreciates your availability on your day off and you did a great job, but politely, you’re not needed anymore. Got it? ”

Trinity sighed. “I understand.” She felt defeated about letting her work slip out from underneath her, but felt relieved that her work day had come to an end.

—

You looked impatiently at the clock. Time was moving at a snail's pace and you still had a few hours until Trinity came home. You weren’t sure how much longer you would be able to wait around for her to fix your little situation.

You had been too distracted in your own thoughts that every task left you paralyzed. You were glued to the couch until further notice. To your surprise, you heard the key turn in the door and all of your built up courage washed away.

Your eyes were fixed downwards while you tried to pretend you were reading your book. It was your attempt at playing hard to get regardless of the fact your arousal was eating you alive.

“Nothing to say?” Trinity hummed as you tuned her out as much as possible. She approached you with slow, intentional steps towards your spot on the couch. Her arms were crossed, her posture stiff, and you didn’t have to look at her to know how she was eyeing you down. When she stood before you, she leaned forward to place one of her knees on one side of you, her body almost towered above. With one hand on the back of the couch, the other slid up the side of your bare thigh where the heat Trinity radiated as a result of your teasing throughout the day lit your skin on fire. “Don’t get shy on me now, baby. You had so much to show me earlier, and now you’re all tucked away. Now, that’s not very fair, is it?”

Trinity's voice, sultry and raspy, left its kiss across your skin. Your eyes fluttered shut at the feeling of her hand slowly rubbing its way down different paths of your body. She grazed over your shirt, moving until she hit the buttons in the middle. “I think you had a little less of… this.”

Her steady hands popped each button open one by one, paying you back for the torture you caused her. Your shirt slid down your shoulders and you dared a glance in Trinity’s direction. Her hair was pulled half up and her baby hairs flew loose around her face. It was a huge mistake because now you found yourself locking eyes with a smirking Trinity.

“There’s my girl,” she whispered while her hands felt up your hot skin.

You were through with playing coy. Hastily, you shimmied your arms out of the remainder of the shirt you were wearing and pulled Trinity into you. The sweet taste of relief rushed through you as you kissed her lips. She melted into your touch, delicately straddling you and pressing her body against yours.

Her nails scraped down the front of your bare skin, stopping to briefly circle her thumb over your nipples. “Shit, Trin,” you gasped.

“So she can speak. I thought you lost your pretty voice.”

“No, just saving it,” you answered, trying to suppress the noises your mouth was threatening to free.

Trinity wrinkled her eyebrows into a confused look, almost like she was studying you. While holding eye contact, her fingers pinched down on your nipple harder eliciting a loud sound from you.

“Saving it for that I hope?”

“You bitch,” you whispered.

You pulled her back in, her lips leaving you for too long. Trinity dug her nails into your hips with enough fervor to set you alight, but you didn’t want to give her the satisfaction.

It was so small that you almost missed it— the way Trinity’s hip flicked ever so slightly against you, trying to gain any traction she could. Your hands moved to her hips where you slipped your leg in between hers and forced her hips down onto you. She moaned into your mouth and you drank it down like strong whiskey, her sounds intoxicating.

“I see I had an effect on you too,” you teased.

“Shut up,” she said through gritted teeth while grabbing onto your hands. “Come on.”

You both left a trail of clothing behind as you kissed your way to the bedroom. The last thing to go before she crashed on the bed was Trinity’s sports bra that she threw somewhere in the room. She left her underwear on because she knew you wanted to be the one to take them off yourself.

She stared at you with her body propped up on her elbows. One of her legs was bent, putting her soaked panties on display. You cursed the fabric that covered her.

You crawled on top of the bed to her where your lips met again. Her hand snaked behind your knee and followed the path upwards towards your ass, squeezing it as you deepened the kiss. Your fingers ran through her hair until you reached her hair tie, promptly undoing it and putting it on your wrist for you to use later. You started twitching the closer that Trinity came to your cunt and she could tell you were practically begging for more touch.

At an excruciatingly slow speed, Trinity’s hand found its place between your legs. When she wanted to, she was really good at teasing you, but you didn’t know how much you could take tonight.

Her fingers slipped in between your folds, her fingers gliding on either side of your clit. Just enough to get enjoyment, but also enough to feel tortured at the lack of direct stimulation. You tried to ride her fingers to feel anything more, but you were stopped by a firm hand on your hip.

“No more,” Trinity whispered. “This is all you get.”

You whined. “Please.”

“You don’t get to cum like this on my fingers. I wanna taste you, baby.”

Even though she said exactly what she wanted, she didn’t stop touching you. Her finger circled lightly over your clit, giving you the stimulation you had been craving. This didn’t help your case if she planned on fucking you with her tongue because if she kept at this pace, you’d be coming undone soon.

“Trin…”

She could read you so well that you didn’t even need to say anything more. She stopped her teasing and used her hands to push your legs towards her, a signal for you to move up the bed.

You stopped when your core was inches away from Trinity’s face. It was her, so of course she would still take her time when you were dying inside.

She was obsessed with your skin— the feeling, the smell, the taste, marking it. She took her time when it came to your skin, savoring each moment she made contact with it. This time was no different.

She squeezed and rubbed on your legs while her lips found the soft skin of your inner thigh. It started as gentle kisses but it turned fiercer. The kisses turned into sucking marks onto your skin, which escalated to her teeth sinking their way into your skin.

You cried out but this was nothing new— this was Trinity’s speciality. She loved to mark you in areas only she could see, occasionally placing one strategically that could be seen by others.

One of your hands flew to her head, keeping yourself steady. In a moment of weakness and distraction on your part, Trinity lowered you down until your cunt was met with her tongue.

“Oh, fuck,” you whimpered, not expecting the abrupt contact.

You arched back, your hand that wasn’t taking space in Trinity’s hair supported you from behind. Her tongue licked long motions across your pussy, the tip flicking out to tease your clit even more.

She changed her method as your orgasm was building. She flattened her tongue, creating a harder surface for you to grind on. You moved your hips and rode her face as your pussy slipped back and forth on her tongue.

Trinity moaned and the vibrations coursed through your body, making your hips move faster and the sounds you were making louder.

You were getting closer and you had reached a state of ecstasy and Trinity made such fast work of you. As you continued to ride her tongue, your hand that supported you from behind shifted until you found her body. With a shaky hand, you found the band of her panties and slipped beneath.

The warm wetness you found was enough to send you spiraling, but you held off. You both moaned at the feeling. Trinity might play it cool, but she completely melted at your touch and became a whining mess. You couldn’t hold back a smirk when you crept your fingers through her folds and her legs opened wide almost instantly.

“Such… a fucking… tease,” Trinity managed to say through her breathing. Her hot breath brushed your soaked cunt which had you grinding into the thin air.

You tried to keep the focus on Trinity’s clit as long as you could, but the more you touched her the less attention she was paying to your own clit. You removed your hand and moved your hips faster, your high approaching fast.

“Baby… I-I can’t… I…” Your words turned into random mumbles of begging and pleading for your release.

She grabbed your hips and pressed you down harder against her mouth, her tongue focusing all of its efforts on your clit. You rode out your high with her name escaping your lips with every breath you took.

When you caught your breath, you looked down to see Trinity’s eyes through a heavy gaze. You moved down until you could see her face to face, bringing your lips to hers. You could taste the lingering parts of you on her tongue as she brushed it inside your own mouth.

You moaned at your own taste. Everything that you were doing only added to Trinity’s arousal. Her hips bucked up into nothing to which you pinned her to the bed.

“So damn eager,” you whispered into her ear.

“Can you blame me?” she scoffed, slightly embarrassed at her own want.

You kissed down her sharp jawline to her neck, then down to her chest. She squirmed and whined the entire way down to her core. You had to scold her once for moving too much.

It’s funny to picture her this way now. When you first started sleeping with Trinity she was unusually quiet, only verbally expressing her arousal when she finished. Now, you couldn’t shut her up even if you tried.

Your lips kissed the skin above her waistband, leaving marks that turned purple immediately. Once again, her hips tried to grind up into you. “What did I say?”

“Fuck, please just do something,” she complained. Trinity might’ve been frustrated, but it sure was fun getting her riled up like this.

As you trailed kisses lower, you hooked her fingers under the band of her underwear and pulled down. You could’ve came a second time just looking at the mess you caused. A string of arousal formed as her panties slipped down her legs.

Instead of giving her the satisfaction of your touch, you sat up straight and kept eye contact with her as you slowly put your hair up.

“Now that’s just mean,” she said.

You smirked, but quirked your head to the side playing dumb. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re just trying to stall so that I-”

You cut her off by licking deeply through her pussy, collecting her wetness on your tongue. “What was that?”

She was unable to finish her train of thought as you cut her off. You had a tight grip on her thighs to keep her from moving as you ate her out.

Her lips were soft and sweet with her arousal. Your tongue licked circles around her clit, then flicking up under her hood. Even with your efforts, Trinity wouldn’t stop moving.

The unholy sounds she was making only lit a fire under you even more. If there was one thing Trinity could do, it was talk shit.

“I need more,” she whined. You had only just started, but it was cute that she was reaching her climax.

“What do you say?” you asked.

“Now.” She sounded impatient and needy all wrapped up into one. You knew she didn’t like to beg, but sometimes you liked to get her there.

“Mmm, you know that’s not right.”

“Oh, just shut up and-”

You watched her mouth fall open when you slid two fingers inside her. You moved them slowly at first, taking time to watch her reaction and feel her body around your fingers.

As you picked up the pace, you added your tongue back into the mix. You didn’t think she could get any louder, but she put you to shame within seconds. With profanities falling from her lips, she gave you a jolt of confidence.

With your fingers and tongue moving faster, along with Trinity riding your face, you felt her clench around your fingers. Her breathing was irregular and her hands found your hair, bringing your face closer to her.

“Babe… I’m right there,” she whimpered.

“I know, you got it,” you encouraged her.

“Fuck!” she cried out. Her legs clamped around your head, but you didn’t stop. You kept your tongue and fingers moving while she rode out her high.

One of the selfish things you loved doing when you fucked Trinity was watch her. The way her body reacted to your touch and the way she looked in her euphoric state. There was nothing better than seeing how you affected her.

Now you were caught in the act. Trinity looked down to see you resting the side of your face against her leg while you stared at her.

“Like what you see or something?” she asked.

“Something like that,” you smirked.

You moved from your position to lay next to Trinity. She turned towards you so you were both face to face. She smiled and brushed loose hairs away from your face and behind your ear. “Did I tell you how much of an asshole you were for those pictures today?”

You chuckled. “Don’t worry, it won’t happen again.”

“Woah, woah, don’t go jumping to conclusions now.”

You both sat with each other for a moment. Though Trinity’s shift wasn’t as long as she planned, it was a rough day nonetheless. It was nice to sit in comfortable silence.

“You know…” you started, already sick of the quiet, “I don’t know why people say you don’t have any bedside manners. I feel quite satisfied.”

Trinity stared at you with a blank expression for several seconds before saying anything. “So back to what I was saying about you being an asshole.”

.

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You hadn’t been able to keep your hands from shaking on the entire half-hour drive from NYC to your family home out in Staten Island.

The ride had been tense, to say the least. You’d had to tell your girlfriend Yelena on the way over that your parents didn’t know yet that you were gay, because you’ve yet to come out to them. And that, for the next couple of days, you and Yelena would have to pretend to be nothing other than roommates until you could kick yourself enough to come out.

Yelena hadn’t been particularly jazzed about the development, and you couldn’t blame her. But she also knew everyone was different. That everyone had their own unique coming-out timeline, and more still, not everyone had open and accepting parents. It was her sheer love and affection for you that made her go along with this.

Yelena pulls to a stop now in your parents’ front drive and kills the engine. Her hazel eyes are focused straight ahead on your parents’ front door.

“I promise I’ll tell them this weekend,” you say, resting your hand on Yelena’s knee over the center console. “And no matter their reaction, it won’t change how I feel about you. If they cast me out, they cast me out. But it won’t change us.”

Yelena turns her head to look at you then, her gaze somewhat softened. She puts her own hand on top of yours and gives it a light squeeze. Her eyes hold yours for a beat, a hint of something you can’t quite read in their depths, and then she’s opening her car door and stepping out into the brisk winter air. You follow suit, slinging your bag over your shoulder and stepping out of the car.

Your mother is waiting for you on the front stoop. She’s wearing a plaid button-up with the sleeves rolled to her elbows, along with jeans and work boots—her standard Staten Island uniform, it would seem. She smiles widely when she sees you approach and immediately reaches out to wrap you in a big hug. Yelena is forced to stand there awkwardly while your mom embraces you.

“It’s good to see you, hon!” your mother exclaims. She takes a step back to hold you at arm’s length. “You look thin,” she adds, shaking her head in disapproval.

“Mom, don’t. I’m fine. And I’m eating plenty, thank you,” you can’t help glancing at Yelena when you say this, and she gives you a small smile that your mom thankfully doesn’t catch. Yelena was something of a chef, so you never went hungry with her.

“Hmph,” your mom gives you a skeptical look. “If you say so. Wouldn’t hurt to have some home-cooked meals this weekend, though.” Then, eventually, her eyes slide over to Yelena, who’s standing a polite distance away from the two of you.

“And who’s this?” your mom asks, raising her eyebrows.

“Well, Mom, this is my roommate Yelena Belova.” The word ‘roommate’ feels weird and chalky on your tongue, all wrong in relation to the blonde woman beside you. “We’ve been staying together for almost a year now, back in NYC. Cheaper than living alone, y’know?”

Your mother’s brows seem to quirk even higher as she appraises Yelena—her dark clothes and statement jewelry. Finally, she looks back at you. “Roommate?” she parrots, her voice dripping with skepticism.

“Yes.” you answer immediately. “And good friend, of course.”

Your mother hums noncommittally, her gaze darting between you and Yelena again. “Well, uh…welcome, Yelena,” she says in a tone dripping with forced politeness.

“Thank you for hosting me,” Yelena says, and your mom seems temporarily thrown by her accent.

Your father’s voice suddenly booms from inside the house. “Hey, who’s out there? Is that my little girl?”

The front door swings open and your dad emerges. He’s in a similar plaid shirt and blue jean getup as your mom. He wraps you in a tight hug, lifting you off the ground.

“Hi Dad,” your greeting is muffled against his shoulder as you let him envelop you.

Your dad holds you tightly for a moment before setting you back on your feet. “Jesus, kiddo, are they feedin’ you out there in the city? We may need to fatten you up while you’re here.”

You grit your teeth and bite back the snappy retort you’d rather say. Yelena stiffens behind you as your parents chuckle. You give them a close-lipped smile that’s more of a grimace.

“You kids are staying through the get-together tomorrow, right?” Your mom asks as she herds you and Yelena inside.

“Of course we are,” you reply, because it seems like the only right answer. Even though it’ll be hard enough to be around your parents for the next 24 hours. You’re not sure how you’ll fare with a bunch of other people over.

Your mother leads you into the house with your dad bringing up the rear. The interior of the house is cozy and lived-in, with pictures lining almost every available surface and knick-knacks cluttering every windowsill. Your mother is nothing if not a hoarder.

There’s a faint smell of onions, garlic, and tomato sauce wafting through the air, and you can hear your younger brother Nick and his girlfriend (Mia? Marta? You weren’t sure. He was always dating someone new) bickering over which bread goes better with pasta.

“The lovebirds arrived just before you,” your mom murmurs. “They’re the cutest things. Could be you and your very own gentleman caller soon,” she nudges your side.

“Could you show me where we will be staying, please?” Yelena cuts in suddenly, clearly having heard your mom’s comment.

Your mother blinks, temporarily thrown, but she recovers quickly, plastering a smile on her face. “Of course, dear,” she says, her tone still forcibly polite. “Just this way.”

She leads you and Yelena down a hallway and into a small but cozy guest room. There’s a queen-sized bed in the center, covered with an old-fashioned floral bedspread. There’s also a dresser and nightstand in the corner.

“This is where Yelena can stay,” your mom says. “And then y/n, dear, I suppose you’ll be taking your old bedroom?”

“Oh, uh…” You trail off, glancing between your mom and Yelena. There’s an inscrutable look in the blonde woman’s eyes.

Your mom looks at you expectantly, clearly waiting for an answer. Yelena’s gaze is steady on you as well, and you know there’s really only one right thing to say.

“Yeah, that’ll be fine,” you say finally.

“Great,” your mom beams. “It’s exactly the way you left it. I’ll give you girls some time to unpack, and then we’ll have dinner.”

You watch your mom go before turning back toward Yelena, taking in the set of her jaw, the dark look in her eyes. Ordinarily, that expression would be hot, and your blood would already be swimming. But in this case, it makes your stomach tighten for an entirely different reason. Because you know it’s a look of hurt.

***

You’ve just set down your bags in your old bedroom and toed off your shoes when you get a soft knock at the door.

“It’s open!” You call over your shoulder. You glance up in time to catch Yelena’s reflection in your old vanity mirror.

Yelena slips into your room quietly, shutting the door behind her. For a moment, she just stands there, watching you in the mirror. She looks beautiful and a touch out of place at the same time. The light from your bedside lamp casts a soft glow over her bleach-blonde hair, but the tension in her frame is palpable.

Finally, she speaks, her voice taut. “So, this is your childhood bedroom.”

“Yup, this is me,” you smile, stepping away from your duffel bag. You watch Yelena take in the decor of your childhood bedroom and smile. Even though it’s a stolen introduction, your stomach still flutters at the notion that you’re finally showing Yelena this part of yourself.

Yelena walks further into the room, her eyes flitting over all the objects in your room. There’s the old ballet trophy sitting on your dresser, and the framed childhood photos of you and your family on the wall. Not to mention the picture of you and your childhood best friend from when it was spirit week at your middle school—the two of you dressed to the nines in eighties garb for Decade Day, looking like extras from The Breakfast Club. Yelena pauses at the small bunny stuffed animal in the center of your bookshelf. It had faded from its original pastel yellow color to a grayish-beige.

Her expression remains unreadable as she takes it all in. And finally, her gaze lands on your bed. “And this is where you always slept? With the canopy and everything?”

“Yes, unfortunately. It used to look worse, if you can believe it. I used to have it covered in Mystery Gang bed covers,” you laugh.

Yelena cracks a small smile at that. “Mystery Gang? Like Scooby Doo?” she asks. She walks over and sits on your bed as she speaks, bouncing to test its firmness.

“Yup. I had a few seasons of the really old show from the sixties on DVD. If the player still works, maybe we could have a marathon tomorrow,” you take the spot next to Yelena, hesitating before taking her hand. “Sorry this is so weird,” you add softly.

“It’s okay,” Yelena says, her own voice low and soft. “I just…”

She trails off, looking away for a moment before meeting your gaze again. “It is just hard. Having to pretend we’re nothing more than friends. It feels…wrong.”

“I know,” you sigh, dropping your head onto Yelena’s shoulder. “But I promise I’ll tell them tomorrow. Probably after the party, when they’ll more than likely be wine-drunk and may not even react.”

Yelena lets out a soft chuckle at that, tilting her head to rest it against yours.

“That is an interesting strategy,” she teases. “Get them drunk and then drop the bomb.”

Then, her tone goes serious again. “But what if it does not go well? What if they react badly?”

“Then, like I said, we’ll leave,” you say, biting your lip.

Yelena’s quiet for a moment, her hand tracing absent-minded circles on the back of yours. When she speaks, her voice is filled with soft determination. “And you’ll still want me? Even if they disown you? You’ll still want…” she trails off, and her grip on your hand tightens slightly.

You pick up your head and cup Yelena’s face, turning her gaze toward yours. “I’ll never not want you, Yelena,” you say. And then you kiss her.

Yelena responds instantly, her free hand gripping your waist to pull you closer, her mouth hot against yours. She kisses you like she’s starving, like your lips are water and she’s been wandering through a desert for days. Her tongue slips between your lips and delves into your mouth like she’s trying to memorize the taste of you.

You can feel her body tremble against yours, the tension in her frame slowly ebbing away as she clings to you. You break the kiss to trail kisses along Yelena’s jaw.

Yelena gasps softly, her head tilting back to give you better access to her neck. Her hands shift, one moving to tangle in your hair while the other slides to the small of your back, pulling you even closer to her. She lets out a small whine as your mouth finds a sensitive spot just under her ear, her hips arching toward you involuntarily.

“Shhh,” you giggle against her neck.

“That’s not fair,” she mumbles, her voice a little breathless. “You know how sensitive I get when you—“

“Y/n?” Your mom’s voice from down the hall causes you to jump away from Yelena so quickly that you lose your balance and fall off the bed.

You hit the ground with a thud and a swear of, “Ah, motherf—“ before your mom is knocking on your door.

“You and your friend will be joining us for dinner, won’t you?” your mom asks.

Even from your spot on the floor, you don’t miss the way Yelena tenses up at the use of the word ‘friend’.

“Uh, yeah, Mom. We’ll be right down,” you call back.

“Alright, hon. See you downstairs,” your mom says, and then you let out a relieved breath as you hear her footsteps retreat.

“Clumsy girl,” Yelena teases, holding her hand out to help you up.

“Well, I thought we’d have more time,” you sigh as Yelena hefts you to your feet. Once you’ve straightened up, you search her face. “Do you feel ready to face everyone? I mean, you’ve already met my parents, but you still have to meet my brother Nick. He’s annoying, but just in that younger sibling way. He’s well-meaning, though. So I don’t think we have to worry about—“

Yelena cuts off your nervous rambling with a gentle hand on your arm. “Hey. Breathe,” she instructs. “I can handle a dinner, milaya.”

You smile and give Yelena’s hand one last squeeze, knowing it’ll be a while before you can comfortably touch her hand like this again, and then the two of you head downstairs.

The scene downstairs is already buzzing by the time you and Yelena make it to the kitchen. Your younger brother is sitting at the kitchen table, gesticulating wildly with his hands, and his girlfriend seems to be eating up whatever he’s saying. Your mom is bustling around the kitchen, checking on dishes in the oven. When she sees you and Yelena, she waves you over to the table.

“There you two are! Come on, come on, sit.”

Yelena pulls out your chair for you, which seems to make both your mom and your brother raise a brow, but you ignore them both, murmuring your thanks to Yelena as you slip into the chair. You can still feel your mom’s gaze on you, but you steadfastly ignore it, focusing instead on dishing up food on your plate.

For a while, the only sound in the room is the clinking of silverware against plates, everyone eating in relative silence. Your brother is the first to speak up.

“So, Yelena, was it?” He asks, looking up from his food.

Yelena, who had been taking a small bite, swallows before nodding. “Yes,” she says.

Your brother glances between Yelena and you. “You and y/n been friends long?”

“Yes, for about a year and a half,” Yelena answers.

“I thought the two of you had only been roommates for just under a year?” your mom asks.

“We have,” Yelena continues. “But before that, we had already been friends for about six months.” Which was a half-truth. You and Yelena had been friends for six months before you stopped dancing around your feelings for each other and began to date. And moving in together? Yeah, one could say that had happened very soon after.

Your mom’s brows are furrowed in something akin to suspicion, her gaze flicking between you and Yelena. She looks like she’s about to ask another question, but your dad suddenly cuts in.

“So, Yelena,” he says. “What is it that you do?”

Yelena’s gaze flicks to him, and you can see a flash of wariness in her eyes. “I work in private security,”

“Wow, really?” your dad gives a low whistle. “So, they must be paying you the big bucks.”

Yelena gives a small, amused hum at that. “I guess you could say that.”

“That’s probably like, boring, right?” Your brother’s girlfriend, who’d been silent until now, speaks up.

“It can be,” Yelena says after a moment. “But it has its moments where it can be sort of exciting.”

“Oh, have any interesting stories?” Your brother pipes up, his eyes lighting up.

Yelena purses her lips, and you can read the internal debate on her face. Like she’s trying to figure out how much to reveal. “It’s mostly just the usual,” she finally says. “Protecting clients, dealing with threats, handling dangerous situations. It’s as sexy as it sounds.”

Your brother nods along, intrigued. But when he opens his mouth to ask another question, your mom beats him to it.

“It sounds like a dangerous line of work,” your mom says, her voice laced with thinly veiled disapproval.

Yelena’s body language reads rigid, her gaze snapping to your mom. You can tell she’s trying hard to maintain her polite façade. “It has its risks,” she says curtly.

Silence stretches as the conversation tapers off. It’s your dad again who finally breaks it, clearing his throat.

“Well, I imagine an attractive woman like yourself must get hit on quite often,” he says.

You resist the urge to facepalm. Yelena blinks at the sudden change of topic, thrown off guard for a moment. Then, she composes herself and gives a dry smile.

“Occasionally.” She says shortly.

Now, it’s your turn to cut in. “So Mom, Dad, what’s the occasion for tomorrow’s party?”

Your mom perks up at your question. “Oh, it’s a surprise!” she exclaims, wide smile spreading across her face.

Your dad grins too, clearly in on the secret. “You’ll have to wait and see,” he teases.

“You guys know I’ve never liked surprises,” you sigh, rubbing your forehead.

Your mom waves a dismissive hand at you. “Oh come on, you’ll thank us later.” She says, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Your dad chuckles at your exasperated expression. “You’ll like this one, kiddo. Promise.”

You decide to take your parents’ word, though you’re very sure they’re wrong.

The rest of dinner is a blur of talking points and dancing around the topic of your love life. Soon, it’s nighttime, and you’re down in the first-floor guest room, sitting cross-legged on the bed in your pajamas while Yelena wordlessly changes into hers.

“Just checkin’ in,” you say softly. “Still okay?”

Yelena pulls an oversized t-shirt over her head, the material clinging to her curvy figure in just the right way to make your brain go a little fuzzy.

“Yeah,” she replies, her voice still somewhat subdued. She climbs into the bed, pulling the covers over her and plumping the pillows behind her back. She pats the space next to her, wordlessly asking you to join her.

You glance nervously toward the door. “Oh, Yel, I don’t know if—“

“Just for a little bit. Please?” Yelena’s voice, though soft, cuts through your objections. But it’s the vulnerability you hear in it that melts away all your hesitation.

“Alright,” you say, kicking off your house shoes and joining Yelena in the bed.

The moment you’re under the covers, Yelena wraps her arms around you, pulling you flush against her. She buries her face in your neck, breathing you in.

“Tomorrow.” You make the promise in the skin of Yelena’s neck, knowing she knows what you’re referring to. “Right after the party,”

“You better,” Yelena mumbles into your neck, her breath hot against your skin.

Her arms tighten around you, like she’s afraid you’d disappear into thin air if she lets go. One of her knees slides between your legs, and her fingers dig into your back as she pulls you even closer. You can tell she really needs this, so you try not to move much while she holds you.

“I’m very much worried about what their little surprise could be, though,” you sigh. “I hate surprises, and they know that.”

Yelena chuckles. “Why?”

You blow out a breath. “When I turned 7, my mom threw me a surprise birthday party. We came home from the hair salon—and my mom had made me get this ridiculous hairstyle that I hated—and when we came inside, everything was dark, and then Mom flips on the lights, and everyone yelled ‘surprise!!’ and…I immediately peed myself. Sooo yeah. I hate surprises.”

Yelena lets out a sharp bark of laughter, her shoulders shaking as she buries her face in your chest to muffle the sound. “Oh my god,” she says between giggles. “You peed yourself?”

“I was frightened!” You pout.

Yelena chuckles again. “You’re adorable, you know that?” she says. There’s a sparkle in her eyes and no sign of her earlier tension. God, you were in love with her. When she reaches up to brush a stray strand of hair out of your face, you catch her wrist before she can pull away, leaving a lingering kiss on her knuckles.

Yelena’s gaze softens, and she scoots closer until her knee brushes your hip. There’s a quiet moment of just the two of you curled up together, the sound of the night outside seeping into the room.

Then, Yelena speaks again. “Promise me something.”

“Anything.”

Yelena looks at you, gripping your hand firmly like she’s anchoring herself to you. “Nothing is going to change between us.”

You don’t even need a second to think about it. “I swear, Yel. Nothing is ever going to change between us, no matter what my parents may think or say,”

Yelena visibly relaxes at that, a small sigh escaping her lips. “Good. I don’t think I can keep pretending we are just friends much longer. I want to kiss you whenever I want.”

You chuckle into Yelena’s shoulder. “Same here. Wanna kiss that spot on your neck that always makes you shiver.”

Yelena makes a soft noise in the back of her throat. “You know exactly what that does to me.”

“Yeah, I sure do,” you bite your lip before moving to straddle Yelena’s lap. She rolls onto her back to accommodate you. Her eyes darken, and her hands immediately go to your hips to help you secure your balance. You feel her fingers dig into your skin.

Her gaze is hot. Scratch that, it’s smoldering. “You are so goddamn gorgeous, it kills me,” she breathes, her hands roaming up and down your sides.

“Yeah? I could say the same thing about you,” you say, running your hand down Yelena’s arm.

Yelena shivers at your touch, her eyes following the path of your hand as it travels down her arm. “You are making this very difficult, you know?” she rasps.

Her fingers flex on your hips, pressing into your skin possessively. She’s holding back; you can see it in her eyes. And as much as you want to lose yourself in Yelena right now, you know you can’t risk it. With a sigh, you climb off her lap and stand up. “I should head up to my room now.”

Yelena sits up too, and you try not to notice the disappointment that flashes across her face. Finally, she exhales heavily, running a hand through her hair.

“Right, we have to…be careful,” she says.

“Yeah,” you nod. “Just until tomorrow,”

Yelena watched helplessly as you track across the guest room toward the door. You turn back at the threshold to look at her. She looks so small in that bed by herself. “Goodnight, Yelena,” you say. “I love you,”

A sad smile tugs at her lips. “I love you too,” she murmurs, her words a quiet confession in the dim light. You offer her one last soft smile before quietly slipping out of the room and back up to your own bedroom to sleep alone.

***

No.

That’s the only thing you can think the following afternoon when you realize what the surprise in question was.

No.

The reason your parents had remained so tight-lipped about the party? It was because they had invited Lucas. Lucas, whom your parents had been trying to set you up with since at least high school.

Lucas stands across from you now, a drink in his hand. Your own champagne flute remains untouched in your hands as you fight to keep the mannerly smile on your face while he talks about radiology like it’s a subject you should be familiar with.

Your parents are nearby, watching you and Lucas from across the room with poorly concealed eagerness. They think they're being subtle, but their excited glances in your direction give them away. Lucas, on the other hand, remains oblivious, seemingly unaware of your discomfort as he prattles on about his job.

"So, I was at the office the other day, right? And this man..." As he continues, you spot Yelena out of the corner of your eye. She's standing near the wall, nursing a glass of champagne, a frown on her face as she watches the scene unfold.

Yelena is dressed in a black blazer over a black-and-gray pinstripe button-up. It’s tucked into corduroy pants that she’s rolled at the ankles, and chunky black boots on her feet. Her hair is slicked back from her face, and you can see the cool silver, dangly earrings in her ears. God, she looked so good. You wanted to devour her. But for obvious heteronormative reasons set forth by the universe, you couldn’t right now.

“…Isn’t that crazy?” Lucas says.

You force a laugh even though you hadn’t heard a word he said. “Heh. Yeah, insane.”

Lucas smiles and takes a step forward. His hand comes to rest on your upper back, respectful but unfamiliar all the same. “You know, it was really great to get to see you again, y/n,” he says.

Across the room, Yelena’s jaw tightens, and so does her grip on her champagne flute. You don’t miss the way a muscle twitches in her jaw. You swallow hard, bringing your gaze from your clearly incensed girlfriend to your smiling parents across the room, and suddenly, you just need to escape.

You look up at Lucas, who clearly expects you to return the sentiment, but all you say is, “I’m not really feeling this champagne. I’m gonna go get something else.” And then, you step toward the kitchen. You can feel Yelena’s eyes burning into your back as you go.

The kitchen is blissfully quiet, and you take a moment to lean against the counter, taking deep, calming breaths. The cool granite feels grounding under your palms, helping you find your center amidst the chaos.

For a few minutes, you’re able to forget about the party, Lucas, and the impending awkwardness that’s sure to follow throughout the rest of the afternoon. But your peace is shattered when you hear footsteps approaching the kitchen door, and then Yelena thunders inside.

“You did not tell me there would be a Lucas,” she huffs.

“I didn’t know either!” you protest, straightening up from the counter to face her.

Yelena’s eyes flash as she comes to stand in front of you, arms folded over her chest. “You didn’t know? So that was your parents’ big surprise? Some guy?”

You sigh, dragging a hand through your hair. “Lucas and his family used to be our neighbors, and my parents hit it off with his parents. Lucas is nice enough, not nearly as weird as his conservative parents, but he’s clueless. And I don’t want him. And my parents…can’t seem to get that through their heads, I guess.”

“That, I can see,” Yelena scoffs.

“Yel, come on,” you take a step closer. “Believe me, baby. I didn’t know this guy would be here. I don’t want anything to do with him.”

Yelena searches your eyes and, after a second, her expression softens and she unfolds her arms. She takes a step closer to you.

“I know,” she murmurs, her voice just above a whisper. “But he was all over you, and your parents were making eyes at you across the room like you were a match made in heaven. It’s maddening.”

“But you know the only person I want is you, right?” You reach out, cupping Yelena’s face.

Yelena’s eyes flutter closed, her body relaxing under your touch. Her hands come up to rest on your wrists, her fingers tracing small patterns on your skin.

“I know,” she says, meeting your gaze. “But it still drove me crazy seeing him touching you like that. Even if it was just your shoulder,”

“It shouldn’t,” you murmur. “Because all I was thinking about was how good you look today. How I wish we didn’t have an audience.”

Yelena’s eyes darken. “You have no idea the things I’d do to you if we were alone,” she says, her voice taking on a husky quality.

You slide your hands into the short blonde hairs at the nape of Yelena’s neck, pulling her closer. “What would you do?”

Yelena groans, her hands going to your hips. She leans in until her lips brush your ear. “I would do unspeakable things to you,” she whispers.

Something hot slides through your belly at those words. “Come upstairs with me?” You whisper.

Once you reach your bedroom, you glance down the hall, making sure no one is in the vicinity. You then slip inside with Yelena and shut the door behind you, your hand fumbling with the lock in your haste to secure it.

You have just enough time to say, “We have to be quiet,” before Yelena’s mouth is on yours and she’s tugging your shirt up.

Her hands move urgently on your body as she backs you against the door. Her mouth captures yours in a fierce kiss as her body presses up against yours.

"God, I needed you," she breathes, her voice rough with desire. "Seeing that guy touching you...I thought I was going to lose my mind."

You hum in reply, tugging Yelena’s black blazer down off her shoulder. Yelena lets out a soft sigh at the feeling of your hands on her. The blazer falls to the floor, leaving her in the button-up that you’ve been wanting to mess up since the second you saw her in it. Your fingers get to work on the buttons.

At the same time. Yelena’s hands move down your hips. Her fingers hooking into the waistband of your pants. "I want you out of these clothes. Now." She growls.

“Seems like you could help make that happen faster,” you tease.

Yelena smirks back. “If you insist,” and then she kneels in front of you, her hands sliding your jeans and underwear down. When you mewl softly, she shushes you just as softly, her mouth against your thigh.

Yelena's touch is slow and so torturous as she kisses a path up your inner thigh. She teases you, her lips and teeth grazing your skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

"Be quiet, zaika," she whispers. "We don't want anyone to hear us, do we?"

When Yelena’s mouth starts to work against you, you have to clap a hand over your mouth to keep the sounds in. Yelena smirks against your skin, knowing she's slowly but surely unraveling you. She knows all the right places to touch, all the right ways to make your body tremble with need. She's playing you like a song she knows by heart, and she's enjoying every second of it.

"Shhh," she murmurs, her fingers grazing your inner thigh. "I know you want to scream for me, milaya, but try to stay quiet.”

You’re biting into the knuckle of your thumb now as your hips rock against Yelena’s face, whilst her tongue and lips move in perfect unison.

"Mmm, you taste so good," she murmurs, her voice thick with arousal. "I could spend hours just like this, devouring you,”

Your hips are restless now, winding and writhing, and when you come, it’s with a barely concealed moan into your palm. Your release is intense, your body trembling as wave upon wave of pleasure washes over you.

When Yelena pulls back, her lips are wet and swollen, a smug look of satisfaction on her face. "Good girl," she purrs. "You did so well,”

You pull Yelena to you, kissing her deeply, tasting yourself. When the two of you step back, you take a moment to fix your clothes and your hair.

“Thirty seconds apart?” Yelena sighs.

“Yeah,” you peck her cheek. “See you down there,” and then you leave your bedroom.

Yelena smiles after you, but there’s an ache in the center of her chest. She waits the designated thirty seconds, and then follows you out.

***

Soon, the party is winding down. In the rush of people leaving, your family saying their goodbyes to everyone at the door, you sneak a hand squeeze from Yelena. Yelena gives your hand a subtle squeeze in return, her expression betraying her relief that the night is approaching its end.

When all the guests are gone, you find your family convening in the living room. You step inside, wringing your hands nervously. “Hey, Mom, Dad?” You glance at Yelena, who gives you a small, encouraging nod.

Both of your parents turn toward you, and it feels like a spotlight. “There’s…something I’ve been meaning to talk to you guys about,” you start.

Your mom’s eyes light up, and she sits forward, suddenly interested. “Is this about Lucas? I told you the two of you would hit it off.”

Your dad is grinning as well. “He’s a good kid,” he remarks. “You could do a lot worse, you know?”

“Uh…well, that’s not exactly what I was gonna say,” you retort. You don’t tack onto that the fact that instead of chatting with Lucas earlier, you’d been letting Yelena go down on you in your old bedroom, so it should’ve been obvious that you didn’t hit it off with the golden boy.

“You’re thinking of seeing him again, aren’t you?” Your mom asks. “I know you don’t live in Staten Island, but it’s not too far from the city. You should think about it, dear.”

Your parents are oblivious, obviously misinterpreting your intention. They're convinced you're trying to tell them that you and Lucas are interested in each other, and you know you have to clear up the misconception, but you're not sure how to say it.

"Well," you begin, taking a deep breath. "Actually, this isn’t about Lucas. I need to—“

“You know what, I actually think I heard Lucas say he and his parents would be in NYC next weekend. Maybe you could meet his folks then,” your dad adds.

You would rather chew broken glass than spend an afternoon with Lucas and his parents.

“No, Dad.” You say firmly. “I really need you two to listen to me for this, okay? Please, it’s important.”

Your parents fall silent, chastened, and you glance Yelena’s way again. Your girlfriend once again gives you that nod of encouragement, that look you’d walk through fire for. Then, you face your family.

“Mom, Dad, Nick, Nick’s girlfriend…I lied to you all when I first arrived. Yelena isn’t my roommate. She’s my girlfriend. We’ve been together for almost a year now. In fact, our first anniversary is in just a couple of weeks.”

There. You’d done it. Ripped the bandaid off.

Your parents have fallen completely silent, twin expressions of shock and disbelief on their faces. Your dad, like normal, is the first to break the silence, clearing his throat.

“Girlfriend?” he asks. Brilliant save.

“But that…does that mean that you’re…” Your mom looks like she might faint, clutching her pearls, and you feel a low simmer of annoyance inside you.

“You can say it, Mom,” you say, trying to keep your voice even. “I’m gay,” you push on despite the hitched breath this elicits from your mother. “That’s why I’ve never brought anyone home. Because I knew I’d be bringing home a woman,” you take Yelena’s hand. “And I know how you guys feel about that,”

Your mom’s eyes fill, and you get the feeling it’s not from joy. Adrenaline courses through your veins and you wanna scream. You wanna take it back. No, you didn’t want to take it back. You wanted your intolerant parents to have a different reaction. A loving reaction. That must’ve been too much to ask for.

“Well, I’m not shocked,” your brother pipes up with a shrug.

Your mom glances his way. “You knew, Nicholas?” You don’t miss the way her lip curls in disgust as she levies this question at your brother.

Your brother shrugs again. “I mean, I didn’t know like, before this weekend, but…” he gestures toward you and Yelena. “But I could see the way they were looking at each other. And…” he purses his lips, trying to decide what to say next. “…and it’s not my business, but I heard y/n tell Yelena she loved her last night when she was leaving the guest room. And it didn’t seem like she meant it in a platonic roommate way,”

“And you didn’t say anything?” your dad asks, looking like his complexion was going green.

Nick lifts one shoulder. “It wasn’t my story to tell,” he says simply. You could hug him if you weren’t so consumed with wanting to throttle your parents.

“Well, that’s it. That’s my secret,” you announce. “I’m gay, and I’m in love with Yelena,”

Neither of your parents speaks. Your mom is openly weeping, tears sliding down her cheeks one after the other, and your dad sits with his arms folded across his chest, occasionally unfolding them to rub at the stress lines of his forehead.

“So, I’m not getting grandkids?” Your mom sniffles, looking up at you with red-rimmed eyes. “Is that what you’re telling me, y/n? No big, happy family gatherings, holidays, a big, full house?”

“Yes, Mom, that's precisely it," you say, your tone facetious. "And I’m not getting the loving, accepting coming-out story that I always dreamt of. Looks like both of us are being let down tonight,” And then, because you can’t stand to look at your parents for another minute, you storm out of their house.

You’re fuming next to Yelena’s car when she finally catches up to you. “Hey, look at me,” she says, taking your hands in hers. “I am so proud of you,”

You don't respond at first, feeling a mix of emotions swirling inside you. Your parents' reaction was nothing you hadn't expected, but it had stung nonetheless. Yelena's words, coupled with the tender way she's holding your hands, finally break through the anger and hurt. You look up at her, swallowing back a lump in your throat.

"I didn't...I didn't think they'd react that immaturely," you manage to say, your voice cracking slightly.

Yelena squeezes your hands, giving you a sympathetic look. "They are in shock, milaya. That is not to say that they went about it the right way, but maybe they just need time to process?” she suggests gently.

You want to accept Yelena’s perspective. You want to believe that your parents’ shock had manifested itself as ignorance. But all you really wanted was to be accepted with open arms. You wish your parents wouldn’t blink at the news, like your brother hadn’t.

"I just...I couldn't stand the way they were looking at me. Like I'm this... disappointment," you admit, the hurt still lingering in your voice.

Yelena takes you into her arms, holding you close. "You are not a disappointment," she whispers into your hair. "You are incredible, and brave, and strong. They're just too clouded by their own narrow expectations to see it right now."

You sink into her embrace, drawing comfort from her presence. "I just…I wanted them to be happy for me," you mumble into her shoulder.

Yelena rubs a soothing circle on your back. "I know, milaya," she murmurs, her voice soft in your ear.

She's quiet for a moment, allowing you to find some peace in her arms. Then, she pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, her expression tender.

"Remember, we don't need their approval," she whispers. "We have each other."

“Each other?” You repeat with a sniffle

Yelena's hand comes up to cup your face, her thumb gently wiping away a stray tear that has trailed down your cheek."Yes," she says firmly. "You and me. We're enough. We don't need anyone else's blessing, okay?"

You nod into her hands.

“Now, should we maybe get your brother to bring us our luggage?” Yelena asks.

You sigh. The thought of being anywhere near your family home right now made you feel so damn exhausted. “We can come back tomorrow. But for tonight, can we just get a hotel? I just wanna get away from here,”

Yelena's expression softens, her eyes filled with empathy. She knew you needed space and comfort, and she was going to make sure you got it.

"Of course," she says. "We can get a hotel tonight. We don't need anything from inside that house right now." She kisses your forehead. "Anything you need, milaya. I've got you."

Now, you’ve always felt an odd way about the tip screen. You didn’t like having to stand there like a jackass while a customer decided how much to tip you. Honestly, you wish your coffee shop hadn’t gone all tech-forward and had just stuck with the tried-and-true tip jar.

But now. Someone had deliberately overtipped you.

Your stomach twists in sudden discomfort. You’ve been a barista long enough to notice weird generosity when you see it, and this felt deliberate. The last time you’d gotten an oversized tip like this, it hadn’t been for nothing. It had been from an older man who asked if, in exchange for the tip he’d left you, you could come out to his car with him for a “private moment”. You’ve never given someone back their money so quickly in your entire life.

This didn’t feel like that, though. This was the third time this week that you’ve gotten a tip like this. And coincidentally, the third time this week that she had been here.

You look up, and the woman is still seated at the small table by the window. Her hair is short and bleach-blonde. Gorgeous earrings dangle from both ears. She’s dressed head to toe in white clothes that you’d never be able to keep that clean. She wears bold makeup—a smoky eye and a plum lip—that counterbalances the pristine nature of her clothing.

She’s scrolling through her phone with her right hand, unhurried, like she has nowhere else to be. Her left hand taps absentmindedly on the styrofoam cup in front of her, and you notice that her nails are the same plum shade as her lips. You have the sudden, startling thought that she probably smells divine.

The woman happens to glance up then, catching you staring. She lifts one brow, amused, and your cheeks burn scarlet as you look away first.

She essentially becomes a regular after that. So much so that you get to know her order very well (of course, it helps that she always orders the same thing) —one medium latte macchiato, two creams, no sugar, and occasionally, a croissant. And of course, there’s always the exorbitant tip—thirty dollars here, fifty dollars there.

You tell yourself not to question it too hard. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, and all that. Plus, the extra money does help. Grad school doesn’t pay for itself. And neither does rent. Or textbooks. Plus, you’d been eyeing a new laptop since your current one was on its last leg (the bracket and parenthesis keys straight up didn’t work anymore, and half of the other keys didn’t work unless you jammed them down hard, which pretty much guaranteed that it took you twice as long to write class essays)

By the end of the third consecutive week of the enchanting woman coming in, the knot in your chest wouldn’t go away. So one afternoon, when the cafè is quieter, and you haven’t seen any foot traffic in the last half hour, you do something terrifying.

You walk over to her.

“Hey, excuse me,” you say when you approach her table, your voice much steadier than you feel. “Can I ask you something?”

She looks up at you slowly over the rim of her mug. Her hazel eyes are sharp and curious. “Of course.”

You certainly hadn’t been expecting the accent. It melts like honey in your veins and sends an unexpected shiver down your spine before you can stop it.

You swallow. “You’ve…you’ve been the one leaving me those big tips, right?”

“Yes.” The blonde woman smiles. “Is this a problem?”

“No, no, I…I appreciate it, truly. It’s just—“ You hesitate, choosing your words carefully. “I just hope you don’t feel like you have to do that. Like you’re expected to. Trust me. A $1 tip for a $5 macchiato is more than okay.”

The woman’s smile widens. “So then…if one dollar is okay, then fifty dollars is…amazing. No?”

“W-well, yes, but…uh…” You feel yourself floundering, and it doesn’t help that this woman hasn’t taken her eyes off you once since you walked over. You’d always been a fan of brown eyes. But good god, all that hazel. You were seconds from drowning in it.

The woman gestures to the vacant chair across from her. “Sit.”

You blink. “I’m sorry?”

“Sit,” she repeats gently, nodding toward the chair. “Please.”

You glance around the cafè, then back at her. Your manager was in the back. And the only other customers in the store were a cute elderly couple who were currently feeding each other soup, so what was the harm? Against your better judgment, you sit.

The woman folds her hands on the table, and you find yourself zeroing in on her gorgeous nails again. She’d gotten them down since the last time you noticed. Now, the plum shade has been replaced with a pretty emerald green that matched the turtleneck she wore, and also brought out the green tints in her eyes.

“Y/n, right?” The woman asks, her gaze flickering to your name tag.

“Yes, that’s right,” you nod. “And you are…”

“I’m Yelena,” the woman smiles. “Nice to finally meet you officially, y/n,”

“You too,” you smile, feeling something glow in your chest.

“Now, you’re curious about the tips, I assume?” Yelena goes on.

“A little, yeah,”

“Well,” Yelena searches your eyes. “I tip you like this because I want to. Not because I feel obligated.”

“But why?” You ask quietly. “Why do you want to?”

Yelena’s gaze doesn’t waver. “Because you work very hard, y/n. I’ve seen it. You’re tired, and you’re trying your best. And you remind me of myself, once.”

Your chest tightens. So. She really was doing this out of the kindness of her heart? No ulterior motive? No creepy favor expected?

“Actually,” Yelena goes on. “I wanted to ask you something.”

Your heart stutters. “Okay,”

“I could support you,” she says. “More directly.”

Your breath catches. Yelena must see the alarm in your eyes, because she hurries to clear things up. “This is not sexual. And it is not an ultimatum. You are free to say no. All I mean is that I could offer you financial stability. And help where you need it.” Her gaze softens then. “You deserve to breathe easy, y/n. All I ask is that you think about it. Okay?”

You study Yelena’s face every which way, hunting for even a hint of deception. But there is none. Nothing but sincerity in those deep eyes. Deep eyes that you knew you’d dream about tonight, whether you wanted to or not.

“Okay,” you breathe. “I’ll think about it. I promise.”

***

You thought about Yelena for days, just like you knew you would. And not just her offer either. You find yourself dwelling on her eyes and the way they stayed trained on you. Her intoxicating fragrance and the way it wrapped around you, and how you’d just wanted to breathe it in. And you definitely couldn’t get that Russian accent out of your head.

You tell your best friend Kate Bishop first. You’re sprawled out with her on the couch in her living room, textbooks abandoned, half-finished cans of Cola on the coffee table, fingers knotted in your hoodie sleeves.

“So,” you finish, staring up at the living room ceiling. “Am I so insane that I kinda wanna go for this?”

Kate snorts. “Well, I mean, I’m currently being financed by my mom, so who am I to judge?”

You laugh despite yourself. Then sigh. “She said it herself that it wasn’t an ultimatum. I can say no to her offer, and there’d be no hard feelings. She’d, I dunno, probably find some other girl even less well off than me to help instead.”

“Sounds like best case scenario to me,” Kate says. “A gorgeous woman who doesn’t expect anything in return, and just wants to provide some liquidity? I’ll take two,” Her gaze turns serious as she looks at you. “But, do you want to do it?”

You take your time answering, thinking of the stress of student loans, your meager paycheck every two weeks that, once you’ve paid all your bills, is barely enough to afford more than a week’s worth of TV dinners. And then you think of Yelena and her effortless confidence. The way her stare held you when you sat across from her in the cafè. The way she’d said, “You deserve to breathe easy,” and you have your answer.

You meet up with Yelena again the following week. You chose a day when you were completely free, no shift at the cafè and no classes. Yelena had offered to buy you brunch, and you’d had to practically tear apart your closet to find something suitable to wear to the quaint little bistro. You’d finally settled on a soft cardigan over a floral halter sundress.

Yelena is waiting for you outside the bistro. She’s dressed in a gorgeous teal pantsuit with chic sunglasses tucked on top of her head. Her makeup is nothing short of flawless, as always. As you approach her, you suddenly feel entirely out of place. Here you are, looking like you’re ready for a casual picnic, and she looks like she’s fashionably late to a business meeting.

“You look beautiful,” Yelena says once you’re close enough.

Your cheeks blush at the compliment. “Oh. Thank you. You are as well,”

Yelena smiles. “Shall we?” She gestures toward the door, and you nod. Then, she holds it open for you, allowing you to walk in first.

The inside of the bistro is cozy, yet refined. All polished wood floors and exposed stone pillars. Yelena speaks with the chipper hostess at the stand, and then the two of you are being led up a set of stairs to a nice booth tucked away in the corner.

“Do you like wine, y/n?” Yelena asks once the two of you are seated.

“I don’t really know,” you answer honestly. “I don’t think I’ve ever actually had it.” And because the alcohol you were the most familiar with was booze, because it was Kate’s favorite, and you’d spent many a night at her place getting wasted on it.

“Would you like to try some today?” Yelena asks next. “They have a great selection here. Do you prefer sweet, tart, or somewhere in the middle?”

“Oh, uh…maybe in the middle?” You hated how flustered you felt already. You’ve never had a gorgeous woman offering to order you wine before.

But before long, Yelena is watching you as you try a sip from the wine of her choice. And you end up liking the taste a lot more than you thought you would. An hour later, you have a soft buzz, and you feel like you know so much more about Yelena.

“I um…” You clear your throat. “…I thought about…what you mentioned in the café,”

“You have?” Yelena sets her wineglass down carefully on the table. “And…what do you think?”

“I think…” You inhale, then exhale deeply. Your heart is in your throat. “…I think that if it’s a serious offer, then I accept.”

Yelena’s smile widens. “I’m so glad to hear. And remember. None of this is set in stone. You can say no at any time, and this all ends the moment you want it to. But until you do…” she picks up her wineglass again and raises it in the air. “…I will help in any way I can.”

Your heart gives a jolt as you lift your own wineglass, clinking it against Yelena’s. “I…thank you, Yelena. This is all very kind of you.”

“Yes,” Yelena beams, holding your gaze as she takes a long sip of her wine. “And the first way I plan to support you is by ordering you the lava cake. It is delectable, trust me.”

You giggle. “Sounds delicious. I’m in.”

***

The allowance is overwhelming at first, of course it is. You’ve gone from pinching pennies to actually having more than you actually need for food and bills. At first, it’s all practical. Rent. Groceries. A new laptop when your old one finally shits out on you mid-semester.

And Yelena never announces these things; they just simply happen. Food is sent to your apartment when you tell Yelena that you haven’t had a chance to eat yet. Appointments are scheduled when you’re too busy to make them yourself. Once, when you’ve fallen sick, Yelena quietly puts you on her insurance and pays the bill without comment.

“No, Yelena,” you’d said when you found out, weak and sleepy from the medicine the doctor gave you. You were also sleeping over at Yelena’s townhouse that night, cocooned in the incredibly soft sheets in her guest bed. “You didn’t have to give me your insurance. I can’t ask that of you. I’m not—“

“Shhh, milaya,” Yelena whispers. “Don’t worry yourself with this. You’re sick. And you needed a check-up. Just focus on resting, okay?” It’s the first time Yelena’s used a pet name on you. And you’re not sure if the lightheadedness that you feel is from the medicine or the name. Or maybe a combination of both, but either way, it made you feel floaty.

You reach blindly for Yelena’s hand, which she doesn’t hesitate to give you. Her hand is warm as her fingers intertwine with yours.

“You really don’t mind doing this for me?” You ask her.

“I really don’t,” Yelena says earnestly.

You search Yelena’s eyes, even as yours begin to grow heavy. “God, you’re too good to be true,” you whisper. Then you yawn.

Yelena chuckles softly at your yawn. Then, she lifts your hand to her lips, kissing yours. “Get some sleep,” she whispers. And as if on cue, your eyes flutter shut.

Yelena watches your sleeping form for a long time, until the warmth blooms in her chest and her head starts to feel light. She stands from the bed as carefully as possible and walks to the door, thumbing out the light and closing the guest bedroom door behind her with a soft click.

Yelena doesn’t get much sleep that night. She tells herself that it’s because she just wants to listen out for you. For the sound of a coughing fit or you calling out for her in need of more supplies. But when the color of dawn just barely breaks through her windows, and she still hasn’t gotten much sleep, she knows that’s not the entire story.

When the sunlight begins to bleed through the curtains, and it’s glaringly obvious Yelena isn’t getting back to sleep, she slips from her bed and pads quietly down the upstairs hall until she stops in front of the guest room. She lays her palm flat against the wood, hesitating, and then she gives it a soft knock.

“Y/n?” She calls out softly.

There’s a rustle from inside, followed by your sleepy voice. “Yelena?”

“Yes, it’s me. May I come in?”

There’s another pause, and Yelena can’t help but imagine you fighting to keep your eyes open. That medicine she’d given you last night had been strong, after all. Then, “Yeah, of course.”

Yelena turns the knob slowly and opens the door. She finds you propped up against the pillows, your hair mussed and your cheeks warm with sleep. You’re wearing one of the oversized t-shirts she’d offered you the night before, the hem sliding dangerously high on your thighs. The sight makes something warm settle in her stomach, but she schools her features.

“How are you feeling?” She asks as she approaches the bed.

You shrug, smiling faintly. “A little better. Still kind of dizzy, but I slept really well in this bed.”

Yelena smiles as she lowers herself onto the bed. “I’m glad,” she says. Then, seemingly without thinking, she reaches out and places the back of her hand against your forehead, feeling for a temperature. Then, she moves that same hand to feel the right and left sides of your neck, too. You lean into her touch, closing your eyes.

“You are still very warm,” she says when she pulls her hand back, a wrinkle of concern forming between her brows. “Would you like a cold compress? I can also make you tea. Or soup. I know soup is not a very tasty breakfast, but…you are sick.”

You chuckle softly. “Well, I don’t have much of an appetite yet. But I’ll take the cold compress. And the tea,”

A smile teases Yelena’s lips, and she raises her hand again to cup your cheek, brushing a thumb beneath your eye. “Then, I am at your service,” she says.

Your breath stutters, but you place your hand over hers, returning her smile. For a moment, neither of you moves. Yelena’s hand remains where it is, and yours remains on top of hers. You also don’t drop her gaze, and she doesn’t seem to be in a hurry to drop yours either. You think it’s your imagination when her eyes dart to your lips. You tell yourself it’s the fever playing tricks on you.

Finally, Yelena’s hand drops back to her lap. “I’ll let you rest,” she says. “I’ll be back in a little while with your tea and compress,”

You nod, though you don’t look away from her. “Okay,”

Yelena stands, then hesitates. “And if there’s anything else you need, you know you can ask, right?”

“I know,” you say gently.

“Feel better, milaya,” Yelena replies softly, and then she leaves, shutting the door softly behind her.

You stare at the door long after she’s gone, your heart beating a little too fast, warmth curling low in your stomach that has nothing to do with the cough medicine.

***

It takes a few more days for you to shake the flu bug, but soon, you’re back in your own apartment. Your body feels much steadier with the fever long gone and the fog lifted, but your brain still has moments where it refuses to cooperate.

You’re currently sitting at your tiny kitchen table with your new laptop open in front of you, a mug of coffee cooling beside it. The cursor blinks patiently at the top of a half-written term paper. You rub your temples and sigh.

You should be grateful. You are grateful. The laptop alone is a miracle. Light, fast, and exactly what you mentioned needing offhand weeks ago. You hadn’t even been able to figure out which model you wanted or needed, but somehow, Yelena had gotten you exactly the right one.

You flex your fingers over the keyboard and try to focus. Post-war economic restructuring…

Your mind drifts again. To the way Yelena had taken care of you last week when you were sick. The way she fed you soup when you got your appetite back, blowing on each spoonful before feeding it to you. The warmth of her hand when she cupped your cheek. And that petname she’d given you that felt and sounded so natural. Milaya…

You shake your head and force your eyes back to the screen. As millions of soldiers returned home, the demand for military equipment became…blah, blah, blah.

“Focus,” you mutter to yourself.

You type a sentence. Then another. Then delete them both. Your apartment feels way too quiet with just you. You glance at your phone without thinking, and suddenly, a certain gorgeous Russian woman is at the front of your mind. You consider texting or calling her, but you don’t want to bug her. She’d already checked in with you once and sent you some money since today was your grocery errand day. But she also told you she had a couple of business meetings to attend to, and you didn’t want to throw her off her game.

After a few more nothing sentences that all get deleted, you lean back in your chair and stare up at the ceiling. The a/c unit hums softly above you. Somewhere outside, there’s the distant sound of a car honking and soft raindrops hitting pavement.

You tell yourself that you’re just adjusting. That it’s normal to feel a little unmoored after being taken care of so thoroughly. The fact that your thoughts keep circling back to Yelena has nothing to do with wanting.

Except…

Your gaze drifts back to your laptop. The screen had gone black due to lack of use, and your own tired face stares back at you from the dark screen.

She hasn’t asked for a single thing in return. And it’s been nearly two months since this arrangement started. It should feel too good to be true. It should feel like you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop. But it doesn’t feel like that at all. In fact, around Yelena, you’ve never felt safer.

Your phone buzzes suddenly on the table, making you jump. And then when you see that it’s Yelena, your heart gives an unwelcome flutter.

Yelena: Men were a mistake. Anyway, I hope your afternoon is going well, milaya. Have you gotten your groceries yet?

You chuckle at the message. You can only imagine what could’ve happened that prompted Yelena to open her text like that. Probably some know-it-all douche in a board meeting. You type out a response.

You: My afternoon is going okay, but I can’t seem to break the ice between me and this damn term paper though. I was gonna hit the store after I finished.

The typing bubble appears almost immediately.

Yelena: Do not let it stress you, milaya. If you are stumped, leave it and come back later. Eating is more important.

You huff a quiet laugh as you glance at your laptop again.

You: You’re right. I’ll take a break and go to the store, I promise.

Yelena: Good girl. I have another meeting. I will give you a call later once I no longer feel murderous intent toward my incompetent colleagues.

You set your phone back down, feeling your stomach already starting to do that annoying fluttery thing. Did Yelena just call you ‘good girl ’? You decide to push the thought out of your head. You also decide to keep your promise to her because your pantry and fridge are bare, and your stomach is empty.

You’ve only been back from the store for a total of ten minutes when Kate shows up unannounced. You’re not even sure why she even bothers knocking, because a moment later, you hear keys jangling (you’ve had keys to each other’s places since basically the beginning of time) and then the door opens, and your best friend comes bustling inside.

“I brought snacks!” Kate chirps, already headed toward your kitchen island with her arms full of bags.

You glance at the time on your phone. “Don’t you have an afternoon class?”

“Class got cancelled,” Kate explains as she sets the bags down. “And I know you don’t have classes on Tuesdays, so I decided to come bother you.”

“How noble of you,” you deadpan.

You watch as Kate grabs a box of pizza rolls out of one of the grocery bags and then crosses your kitchen to preheat the oven.

“You realize I just went shopping, right? I don’t need all this junk food,” you laugh as you peer into one of the bags to discover at least three different kinds of chips and a bag of golden Oreos.

“So then, you’ll just have extra to go around,” Kate navigates your kitchen with the grace of someone who’s been there a few dozen times (which she has), pulling a cooking tray out of one of the cabinets and placing it on the stove. She keeps glancing at you over her shoulder as she rips open the bag of pizza rolls.

“You good over there?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” You ask, glancing down at your phone, once again reading Yelena’s last text. Primarily, the part where she called you good girl.

“You just seem a little spacey,” Kate says. “Waiting for that woman to text you?”

You blush and hastily pocket your phone. “No, of course not. She’s working today. She’s busy,”

Kate studies you for a moment, and you absolutely don’t appreciate the smirk that’s so obviously playing on her lips right now.

“Are you two, like…hooking up?” She asks.

“What? No! God, Kate, you know it’s not like that!”

“Are you sure? I’m getting a down bad vibe from you right now,” Kate continues to tease.

Heat floods your cheeks. “No, you’re not. It’s not like that. We’re—all of this—“ you gesture vaguely between yourself and the empty space around you. “—all of this is platonic.”

Kate raises a brow. “All of it?”

You open your mouth to retort, but then your phone chimes in your pocket. Your heart leaps in your throat, and you turn away from Kate’s shit-eating grin as you lift your phone out to see a new text from Yelena.

Yelena: Will you be free tomorrow, milaya? I want to take you somewhere.

Your breath catches, and you stare at the screen until the words blur together. You hadn’t even noticed Kate creeping up behind you and peering at the text over your shoulder.

“All of it?” Kate repeats, raising a brow knowingly.

“Shut up.”

***

Yelena picks you up the next afternoon. You’re waiting for her outside your apartment building when you hear the low purr of her engine, and then watch her sleek black car pull up, looking completely out of place in the apartment building’s humble parking lot. She steps out of her car looking elegant as always—chic red-tinted glasses tucked into her hair, a maroon coat over her shoulders, and an even deeper shade of red on her lips that pulls back to reveal flawless teeth as she smiles at you.

In a word, she looks unfair. Her eyes flick over you in a way that makes your stomach dip. You’re not really sure why, seeing as you didn’t look half as dressy as Yelena, in your university’s hoodie and a pair of jeans.

“Hi,” you say softly.

“Hello, milaya,” Yelena’s smile turns fond. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah. Unless you think I should change?” You start to shrink beneath Yelena’s gaze, but she merely shakes her head.

“No, no, you look perfect. So cozy and cute.” She holds her hand out for you, and you take it, your much colder hand meeting the warmth of hers. “After you, beautiful,” she purrs as she opens the passenger door for you.

The boutique Yelena brings you to is softly lit and elegant. And simultaneously, the kind of place that you never would’ve set foot in otherwise. On the drive over, Yelena had filled you in on a gala she was planning on attending and asked you if you’d like to tag along. You don’t know what possessed you to agree to it without thinking because you had absolutely nothing to wear to a fancy gala. But that’s where Yelena came in clutch, suggesting this very boutique for a shopping spree.

Everything smells like expensive perfume, and you hover near the entrance, feeling like you could break something if you breathed a little too hard.

“Yelena,” you speak up after a while. “I know I said I’d come with you to the gala, but…you already do so much for me. And nothing in this store looks like it’s anywhere within spitting distance of my budget.”

“Well, I didn’t bring you here expecting you to pay for anything. This is something that I want to do for you,” Yelena squeezes your hand as she speaks.

“Are you sure? Because if it’s too much trouble, I’m sure there’s an old dress somewhere in the back of my closet that I can wear instead.”

She stops walking and turns to face you fully. “If that would make you more comfortable, then of course. This is not an obligation, detka. Just an invitation. If you don’t like it, then we can leave. But…” she suddenly gives you the most lethal puppy eyes you’ve ever seen. “…it would be a lie to say that I don’t want to at least see you try something on. Just one dress? Pretty please?”

You search Yelena’s eyes and, god damn it, there’s no way you could say no to that face. Even if you wanted to.

“…okay,” you say finally. “I guess it couldn’t hurt to try a couple of things on.”

Yelena’s eyes light up, and she claps her hands in excitement. Then, as if by magic, a friendly sales associate appears at her side, and Yelena murmurs something to her in a low voice. You catch fragments—evening attire, gala, simple yet striking. Then, the next half hour is a blur of pretty colors and fabrics.

You’ve gone through two dresses already, both beautiful, but not exactly something you’d like to spend an entire evening wearing. But the third dress you try on steals the air from your lungs. It’s a deep-blue satin maxi dress with a strapless neckline, long lace sleeves, and a slit in the left leg.

You barely recognize yourself in the mirror. You’ve never looked this regal before in your life, even if it is technically cosplay.

Your hands hover uselessly at your sides. After a couple of minutes, Yelena’s voice drifts in from outside the curtain. “Are you still okay in there?”

You open your mouth to answer, and nothing comes out. A beat passes, then another.

“Milaya?” She speaks again. “Are you okay?”

Your heart pounds. “Can you…come in, Yelena?”

“Of course. Are you okay? Is the dress…” The curtain draws back, Yelena steps inside, and her sentence trails off as she gets a look at you.

Her breath catches audibly as she pulls the curtain shut behind her, sealing you both in the small space. Her eyes sweep over you, and she mutters something under her breath in Russian.

Your heartbeat flutters wildly now, and you swallow hard. “Is…is this one okay?” You ask, gesturing vaguely to your reflection.

Yelena doesn’t answer right away. Then, quietly, almost as if she’s afraid to say it too loudly: “It’s perfect.”

Her gaze lifts to meet yours in the mirror. “You’re perfect,”

A zing goes all the way down your spine. You turn to face her, and she steps closer without seeming to realize she’s doing it. Her hands lift, pause, then settle at your hips. Your skin warms with her touch.

You bring your own hands up on instinct, fingers curling around Yelena’s forearms. She’s solid yet soft beneath your touch. Real in a way that makes your head spin.

Yelena murmurs again in Russian, even lower this time, and you huff a shy, breathless laugh. “I can’t understand what you’re saying.”

Her eyes don’t leave yours. “I said you are a vision,” she translates softly. “You look like a dream.”

Your heart lifts clean out of your chest.

Your gaze drops to Yelena’s lips, just for a second, and when you look back up, her eyes have followed the same path. The space between you feels suddenly charged, electric. Yelena steps closer. Her perfume surrounds you. For one dangerous second, you think she might—

Yelena clears her throat abruptly and steps back, hands dropping from your waist as if she’s burned herself. “Anyway,” she says, a little too briskly. “If you like this dress, I will go pay for it now?”

You blink, disoriented, your pulse still racing. “Uh…yeah,” you breathe. “I…yeah. I like this one.”

Yelena nods once decisively and slips back through the curtain. You’re left alone in the dressing room again, staring at the space where Yelena was just standing. She’d left her fragrance behind, the floral scent still surrounding you. Your cheeks are flushed, and your heartbeat is erratic, and you’re left with these dangerous feelings you don’t know what to do with.

***

You weren’t sure what to expect for your first gala, but you were definitely more than a little overstimulated by the glitz and glamour that surrounded you. Just like in the boutique, you were afraid to do more than just simply stand stock-still out of fear of breaking or ruining something. But at least you looked the part in your dress.

You stay glued to Yelena’s side throughout the night, her hand warm and steady at the small of your back the entire time. She introduces you with reverence to everyone, making sure everyone knows your name and that you’re her plus-one for the night. Occasionally, she’ll squeeze your hand and give you that fond smile when you’re too shy to speak.

People smile at you. Compliment your dress. Ask about your degree when you mention you’re in grad school. One woman squeezes your arm and tells you how refreshing it is to see someone so grounded here. And throughout every interaction, Yelena watches you with a fondness in her eyes that makes you melt.

But then, there are also the strange looks you get. People who, even with your gorgeous dress on, seem to sniff out that you don’t really belong in a place like this. That there’s no way your salary matched theirs (which is true), and that they can’t seem to figure out what a gorgeous and wealthy woman like Yelena would be doing with a lowly grad student like yourself.

And you wish you could ignore those looks and whispers. You really, really wanted to. You even had a glass of champagne, hoping it would mellow you out. But the judgment still stung.

You excuse yourself from Yelena under the guise of having to go to the bathroom, when really, you just need some air. You stand in front of the mirror, gazing at your reflection, trying your best to steady your breathing. Then, you make the mistake of opening the clutch that Yelena had also bought you, forgetting that you’d left the receipt for the dress in there. Yelena had let you keep it, just in case you wanted to return anything.

It’s pure curiosity that makes you pluck out the receipt and read it. And you really, really wish you hadn’t. Your stomach drops. The price feels obscene. Almost an entire month’s rent, and more than you’ve ever spent on anything that wasn’t your tuition.

You drop the receipt, and it flutters back into the clutch. You straighten up, hugging your arms around yourself as you start to feel that familiar burn behind your eyes. You barely notice when the door to the ladies’ room opens and Yelena steps inside.

“I came to check on you,” she says, approaching you slowly like you’re an animal she doesn’t want to startle. “Is everything alright?”

You hesitate, the words sitting heavy in your chest. All you have to do is figure out what order they should go in. “I just…” You trail off, then force yourself to continue. “…I don’t think this feels right.”

Yelena tilts her head, brows furrowing. “What doesn’t feel right, milaya?”

You swallow. “This. Tonight. The gala. I don’t think I belong here. It…feels like I’m just here to be a pretty accessory for you to show off.”

Yelena looks horrified at the accusation. “No,” she says quickly, voice soft. “No, milaya, it’s not like that at all.” She takes a careful step closer. “You are so much more than a pretty accessory to me. I wanted you here with me tonight because I enjoy having you around. Because I would have more fun spending the night with you than trying to schmooze business associates that I really do not care one way or another about. I just…thought you might like getting swept up in it. Was I wrong?”

You shake your head, wrapping your arms tighter around yourself. “I just don’t know, Yelena. This…this has all just—“ your voice wobbles despite your efforts. “—it’s really starting to feel like a lot. I thought I could handle all the attention, all the money, but maybe I can’t.”

Now it’s Yelena’s turn to swallow hard. “Y/n—“

“You said I could say no at any time, right?” Your voice comes out smaller than you mean it to, but with no less conviction. “Well…this is me saying no. I-I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, I really do. But I just don’t think I can do this anymore. This life isn’t for me.”

The look on Yelena’s face is devastating, and you wish you could go back in time to before you saw that expression, eat your words before you say them. But a part of you knows this needs to be said. Your feelings were getting too messy, and you needed to cut the cord.

Yelena searches your eyes, as if hoping you’ll take it back. And you know you will if you keep looking into those eyes, so you drop her gaze.

“Can I…” her voice is rough now, as if she’s on the brink of tears herself. “Can I at least take you home?”

You shake your head. “I think it’s best if I call a cab.”

Yelena nods. “Right. Of course.”

“I’m so sorry, Yelena.” You don’t trust yourself to look at her again, so you gather your things and walk out of the bathroom. Your heart is in your throat, and your expensive heels click noisily against the marble floor.

The cab ride home is a blur of city lights and silent tears. You press your forehead to the cool window and weep the whole way back to your apartment. Your chest aches with the weight of what you just walked away from, and the sad Sam Smith song playing on the radio absolutely does not help your case.

That night, you don’t even make it to your bedroom. You kick off your heels somewhere near the door and sink onto the couch, still in your evening attire. A part of you knows you should get up and change. To wipe off your makeup at the very least, since you know it’ll be bad for your skin if you leave it on. But you’re too sad to move.

Instead, you curl up on the couch in the dress that Yelena bought you, and fall into a shallow, exhausted sleep with your cheek pressed into a throw pillow.

***

The next few days pass you by in a depressing daze.

You don’t have work to distract you anymore. You quit the cafè shortly after Yelena began supporting you. Not because you wanted to stop working, but because it quietly became unnecessary, and your manager was an asshole anyway.

You told yourself that you’d look for something else, but that had been the week that you caught the flu, and there was no way you could go out for job interviews weak and sickly. And with the money Yelena had been giving you? What was the harm in going without a paycheck for a week or two? Of course, you’d absolutely have to look for a new job now, all things considered.

School becomes an afterthought, too. You’ve already emailed your professors a small, neat lie about having gotten sick again, that something must be going around. They all understand, because of course they are. And you spend most of your time on the couch, switching between staring at the ceiling and doomscrolling.

Your heart hopes that you’ll hear that familiar ping, and it’ll be Yelena texting you, reminding you to eat or asking you if you need anything. But you know that’s wishful thinking, especially when you’d essentially told her that you don’t want to see her anymore.

By the fourth day, you feel like you’re going crazy. And like an ex machina, that’s when Kate shows up. She lets herself into your place with her key, arms full of chocolates, romcom DVDs, and even a bottle of sparkling wine.

“Okay,” she announces once she’s inside. “Time to fix this.”

You don’t argue.

Later, you’re halfway through The Devil Wears Prada, half your body hidden under an emerald green throw blanket, when Kate speaks.

“So…you broke up with her, I guess?”

You sigh, sinking deeper into the cushions. “We weren’t together, Kate. It wasn’t a breakup.”

“But you broke off your arrangement?” Kate presses.

You trace a finger around the rim of your wineglass. “…yeah,”

“Why?” Kate asks gently. “Didn’t you like spending time with her?”

You let out a humorless laugh. “Yeah. But…I dunno. It was easier when she was just helping me pay for textbooks. Replacing my laptop. Stuff I needed.” You swallow. “And then, she was letting me stay at her townhouse when I was sick and dropping three thousand dollars on a dress and a clutch, and heels for me, and taking me to a gala.”

Your mind betrays you then, flashing you back to that dressing room. The warmth of Yelena’s hands on your hips, the way she’d told you that you looked like a dream, the way you thought she was even maybe going to kiss you. Your stomach flutters traitorously.

Kate watches you closely. “Was it really the money that bothered you, though?”

You frown. “What do you mean?”

She takes a moment before answering. “Do you think that maybe it’s possible you caught feelings? And that freaked you out?” She tilts her head. “And maybe that’s why you pushed her away?” Kate reaches out to squeeze your shoulder. “I know how you get when you like a girl, y/n,” she adds gently.

You open your mouth to deny it, then stop. Your chest tightens. Yelena’s face crops up in your mind. Every smile, every laugh, every fond look. Her pride when she showed you off at the gala. And then—with a pang in your chest—her crestfallen expression when you called everything off.

“…maybe you’re right,” you admit quietly. “…I think I liked her. A lot.” You stare straight ahead at your laptop screen, watching Andy try to plead her case to Emily in the hospital room. “I didn’t want to be someone Yelena felt obligated to care of, you know? Or someone she got bored with once the novelty wore off? I mean, all this started because I was some barista in a coffee shop who she saw as down on her luck…”

Kate nudges your knee. “Did she ever make you feel like that, though? Like she only saw you as a charity case?”

You shake your head immediately. “No, never. She always just…had my best interest in mind. She just wanted to take care of me. Even when I thought I had a handle on things, which I don’t think I ever really did.”

“Well,” Kate starts slowly. “Then I don’t think this split is what was good for you. Maybe Yelena was.”

Those words land like a rock in your chest. Maybe Yelena was. They continue to echo in your head for the remainder of the movie, your thoughts continuously circling back to Yelena. Yelena, Yelena, Yelena. Her voice, her hands, the way she looked at you like you were something precious. Treated you like you were something precious.

You had to see her again.

***

The next evening, Yelena is alone in her townhouse. The rain is coming down hard outside, which perfectly syncs up with the stormy way Yelena feels inside. She’s crafted at least five different text messages to you, typing them out, then chickening out and deleting them.

You clearly wanted your space. And though it hurt so much not to speak to you, to not get to check in and ask if you needed anything, Yelena had to respect your wishes.

“This is me saying no…I just don’t think I can do this anymore…”

Those words reverberate in Yelena’s head as she goes over every single exchange she’s had with you in the last two months. Had she come on too strong? Despite every time she told you that you could reject her help, had she pushed that boundary at some point?

It was safe to say Yelena was close to tearing her hair out from all the overanalyzing. She’d already gone through half a bottle of wine and wasn’t feeling any less high-strung yet.

That’s when she gets a knock at her door that makes her freeze.

After a beat, the knock comes again, hesitant, like whoever is behind the knock isn’t entirely sure they should be here.

Yelena sets her wineglass down slowly, heart already pounding. No one ever drops by unannounced. Everyone she knows texts first. Her mind betrays her immediately, supplying a name she’s told herself not to hope for. But when she opens the door, there you are. And Yelena’s breath catches before she can stop it.

You’re soaked to the skin from the rain. Your eyes flick up to meet hers, wide and uncertain, and something in Yelena’s chest cracks clean open.

For a heartbeat, neither of you speaks. It’s just the sound of the rain hammering against the townhouse’s foundation behind you.

“Hi,” you say softly, barely over the sound of the rain.

“Hi,” Yelena replies, just as quietly. “How’d you get here?”

“Uber,” you answer. You notice Yelena’s assessing look and add. “I forgot my umbrella. And you have a long driveway.”

This earns you a smile.

“Well, come in. Get out of the rain,” Yelena says.

“Thanks,” she ushers you inside, shutting the door behind you, and you sigh immediately as her central heating envelops you. You try not to dwell on the fact that you’re now dripping rainwater all over her expensive foyer floors.

“I-“ you stop, exhale, then try again. “I’m sorry for showing up like this. I know I said—“ your voice wobbles and you clear your throat. “I know I said I couldn’t do this anymore and I blew you off and—“

Yelena’s expression softens immediately. “Y/n,” she cuts you off gently. “You do not have to apologize for coming here. Or for what you told me at the gala. I realize that I may have come on too strong, so…I understand why you needed to flee. I think I probably would have too.”

“But I didn’t want to flee, that’s the thing. I was just…scared,” you say.

“Of me?” Yelena asks.

You shake your head. “Not of you. Of…how much all this meant to me. Of how easy it felt to fall into you and let you take care of me. And…I guess…” You fidget with your hands. Yelena watches you do it, wanting so desperately to reach out and still them, but she refrains. “…when I realized that the way I felt for you wasn’t platonic, it scared the shit out of me.”

Yelena smiles softly then. “That’s understandable. It can be scary, realizing that you have feelings for someone.”

You step closer, taking a deep breath to gather your courage. “I realized that the reason I ran is because…I wanted you. And…I didn’t know what to do about wanting you.”

Yelena’s eyes lock onto yours. “Wanted…past tense?”

You don’t drop her gaze. “Still want,” you breathe.

“Even now?” Yelena has been steadily moving closer throughout your conversation, and now you could feel her body heat where you were almost touching.

“Especially now,” you admit, your heart hammering.

Silence stretches between you. No more than five seconds, but it feels like five hours. And then, Yelena’s hands find your waist as yours drift to her shoulders. She’s the first one to close the gap.

Your lips meet in a fierce, aching kiss. It’s hungry and messy and urgent, tempered by weeks of restrained longing. Rain thrums against the windows behind you, but all you feel is the bear of Yelena, the steady press of her body against yours, and the ache that’s melting into something unbearably, wonderfully consuming.

Your damp clothes press against Yelena’s shirt, soaking through to her skin, but she doesn’t seem to care. Instead, she pulls you closer, and a sharp gasp escapes your lips as she wraps one of your thighs around her hip to hold you against her.

Her hands roam with purpose, tracing the curve of your waist, the small of your back, grounding you even as your breath comes in ragged bursts.

Yelena tilts her head, catching your gasp in her mouth, and her tongue slips past your lips in a heated kiss that leaves you trembling. An electric current travels through you, one that has your fingers clutching at her shoulders, her arms, anywhere to anchor yourself to her.

You're already way too far gone by the time Yelena pulls back from the kiss. But only enough so that she can murmur against your lips, "You probably want to get out of these wet clothes. Am I correct to assume that?"

You breathe a laugh. "Yeah. Definitely a correct assumption." After all, you were shivering. Though that wasn't entirely due to your damp clothing, and both of you knew that.

"And would you like a hand with that?" Yelena adds, a teasing glint in her eyes. Your pulse spikes at the implication. "My shower is quite spacious," Yelena goes on with a sexy smirk as she lets you read her meaning. "Definitely big enough for two."

Every nerve in your body is alight, and when you give her a nod, Yelena takes your hand and leads you toward the stairs.

Yelena's ensuite bathroom alone could very well be the size of your entire apartment, featuring polished tile floors, large mirrors, a massive walk-in shower with rain-style showerheads, and a freestanding tub that looks like it could fit two people comfortably.

You venture further inside, barely breathing through your awe. Yelena steps behind you, brushing a damp strand off the back of your neck before kissing your nape. "Okay?" she asks. You nod.

You watch as Yelena steps up to her massive shower and turns on the water. It's not long before the space starts to steam up. She turns back to you, her hands gentle as she helps you shrug out of your clothes. Your chest rises and falls quickly as layer by layer is peeled away until you're bare.

Yelena drinks in the sight unapologetically. "You're gorgeous," she breathes. "You're so gorgeous,"

"I wanna see you too," you say, your hands going to the hem of Yelena's shirt. She raises her arms as you slide it over her head, cooperating as you undress her just as reverently as she undressed you. And finally, the two of you slip under the cascading water together.

Yelena's body presses against yours from behind, hands gliding over your wet, slick skin, and her lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“Better?” she murmurs, her voice low in your ear.

“Yes…” You breathe, unable to form more words, letting the heat of her presence, the water, and the tension that’s been building for weeks wash over you.

The water streams around you both as Yelena gently guides you to face her. You blink, and her mouth is on yours again. And when she presses you against the shower wall, you groan into the kiss when the two of you are chest to chest.

She tilts her head, lips brushing along your neck, teasing, tasting, and sending another shiver through you. “You feel incredible,” she murmurs, voice husky, each word vibrating against your skin.

"So do you," you say, pressing back instinctively and wrapping your arms around Yelena's shoulders. Her hands slide lower, tracing the curve of your waist, the swell of your hips, pulling you impossibly closer.

Yelena pulls back from the kiss far before you're ready, causing you to whine and chase her lips. But it's not long before you notice the mischievous grin she's giving you as she reaches for the showerhead. Plucking the showerhead from its holder, Yelena uses it to let the warm water stream over your body. The water splashes over your skin, and you barely have time to react to that sensation before Yelena's mouth is on you again, trailing soft kisses along your neck, your collarbones, and your shoulders. Each one draws a pleasured sigh from you.

Your moans grow louder, breath coming in ragged bursts as the water runs down your chest, your stomach, following the line of your curves. Yelena's fingers press into your hips, guiding you closer, her body pressing against yours, every inch of her warmth igniting you from within.

She drags the showerhead lower, the water tracing over your thighs now, and you can't help but arch into her, letting your head fall back against the shower wall. Yelena's lips find the sensitive spot just behind your ear, and her teeth graze lightly everywhere her tongue teases.

“God, Yelena…” you breathe, voice quivering, hands clutching at her back, desperate to feel more, to hold onto her.

"I knew you'd be good for me, milaya," Yelena murmurs against your neck. "So perfect and responsive for me. Such a good girl."

God, there it was again. Good girl. Your stomach burns, heat coiling tighter in your gut.

"Call me that again," you say.

You feel Yelena smirk against your neck. "Call you what? My good girl?"

You shiver. "Yes, please,"

"You want me to call you my good, perfect girl?" Yelena's fingers slowly slot into you then, teasing your folds, and you practically cry out, your hands tightening against her shoulders.

"Fuck, yes!" you gasp.

"Yes, what? Yes, about me touching you, or yes about you being my perfect girl?" Yelena teases, and you can't even begin to put together a coherent answer, not with her fingers scissoring inside of you, her thumb teasing your clit, and your eyes rolling back without your say so.

"You'll have to use your words, krasivaya devushka, or else how will I know what you mean?" Yelena says, even as her thumb flicks unfairly right over your sweet spot.

"Yes, yes!" you cry out. "Yes to everything, Yelena. You feel so good. I can barely breathe,"

Yelena tilts the showerhead, letting the warm water cascade lower, until it hits right against your center. Your head falls back again, your breath hitching. Her hands grip your hips firmly, holding you in place as she leans in to press her mouth against your neck again. Every single sensation is beyond overwhelming, yet you still can't seem to get enough.

"Yelena..." you moan, your voice shaky. Your chest has begun to rise and fall so much faster. Your fingers clutch at Yelena's shoulders, then drift down her back, pulling her even closer.

Yelena's fingers curl inside you then, and you're done for. Heat and pleasure explode through you, leaving you practically screaming for her. Yelena holds you through it as you ride out every shiver and gasp. When your breathing finally starts to steady, she tilts your face toward hers, capturing your lips in a soft, lingering kiss.

Yelena returns the showerhead to its holder, her eyes never leaving yours. You reach out, fingertips tracing the smooth lines of her arms, feeling her warmth, her strength. She’s breathtaking, and the sight of her here, like this, makes your heart race.

“Can I touch you too?” you ask, voice soft but full of need.

Something in Yelena’s gaze darkens, a low hum of anticipation in her throat. “Of course,” she murmurs.

She presses one palm against the shower wall behind you, her body so close that every inch of her warmth presses against you. Your fingers slide down her stomach, brushing the curve of her hips before gingerly cupping her between the legs. Her breath hitches, and a low groan escapes her lips, vibrating against your shoulder. She leans closer, tilting her head to capture your lips again, and it's enough to throw you off your game, but you try your best to focus on bringing her the pleasure she deserves, too.

Her hands roam freely now, guiding, teasing, and holding, while your own explore with growing boldness, learning the feel of her, the weight of her, the response she elicits from just a touch. She rocks into your hand as you finger her, and you have to bite your lip to keep from moaning. She’s so wet and warm for you, and you can’t think straight.

When Yelena finally comes against your hand, it’s with a low, ragged moan pressed into your neck. Her body trembles against yours, warm and slick from the water, and you instinctively hold her closer, pressing your lips to her temple, feeling every shudder, every pulse.

Her breath comes in uneven gasps, chest rising and falling rapidly, and she clings to you like you’re the only thing keeping her grounded. “Malyshka…” she murmurs, voice husky and raw, and the sound sends another thrill straight through you.

You can feel her body relaxing slowly against yours. Her hands linger on your waist, fingers lightly tracing circles as if committing the feel of you to memory.

For a few heartbeats, you both just stand there under the warm rain of the shower, bodies pressed together, catching your breath.

But soon, the two of you are stepping out of the shower, not even bothering with clothes, before collapsing into Yelena’s bed. All you’re aware of is Yelena: her mouth, her hands, the intoxicating fragrance that seems to surround her like a second skin. And when she disappears beneath the covers, teasing and worshipping you with a devotion that makes your toes curl and your chest ache, you’re taken to ecstasy all over again, melting into every flick of her tongue, every press of her fingers, every low, husky whisper of your name.

Later, when you’re both completely sated, the intensity fades into a comforting warmth. You lie on your side, head resting against Yelena's chest, the steady thrum of her heartbeat grounding you. Her arms wrap around you, holding you close, fingers gently tracing patterns on your back as if to reassure you that she’s still here, still yours.

“You okay?” she murmurs softly, lips brushing the top of your head.

You nod against her chest, letting out a contented sigh. “Yeah…better than okay,”

You let yourself bask in the comfortable silence with Yelena for a moment before asking, “Are you…really okay with all of this? With me? With...everything?”

“Milaya…look at me,” Yelena murmurs.

You lift your head, meeting her sincere gaze. “I want this. I want you. Not because of what I can give you, but because of who you are. You, entirely. You make me feel alive, and I don’t ever want that to stop.”

Your chest tightens, heart fluttering in a mix of relief and longing. “I…feel the same,” you admit. “I was scared before, but I'm not anymore. I trust you, Yelena. And I don't want to lose what we have.”

Yelena’s arms tighten around you, holding you as though she could shield you from the world. “You won’t,” she whispers, voice low and certain. “I’ll always be here, milaya. No expectations, no pressure—just us.”

You sigh contentedly, letting her words and her heartbeat lull you. “Just us,” you echo softly.

Which brought you to tonight. The two of you were hosting a housewarming party to celebrate. Yelena looked gorgeous in the pantsuit she’d donned for the occasion, and for the past hour, she’d been working the room; with no shortage of jokes about how grateful she was that you’d agreed to put up with her indefinitely. “It’s a wonder she hasn’t murdered me out of sheer annoyance yet,” you’d heard Yelena tell one of your mutual friends, making you give an affectionate eye roll in response.

You’re in the open-plan kitchen pouring drinks when you feel an arm loop around your waist from behind. Yelena’s voice is soon to follow, low in your ear.

“You are being so polite tonight, krasivaya devushka. Greeting everyone and making drinks. Such a lovely and accommodating hostess,”

Your spine straights automatically, caught off guard by the praise. “Lena,” you whisper, your cheeks heating up. “Please be good,”

She hums, her fingers trailing up your spine and making you shiver. “Oh, but milaya, it’s so much more fun to be bad. You make it so easy for me,” Yelena presses a soft kiss just behind your ear, then steps away as one of your friends approaches to ask you about the hor d’oeuvres. You’re forced to grin and bear it and completely ignore the sudden heat pooling in your belly just from Yelena’s proximity alone.

She knew exactly what she was doing. And you’d throw her a glare over your shoulder if she hadn’t fled the kitchen to evade capture.

Unfortunately for you, that’s not the last time Yelena teases you. She continues to do so throughout the night. She seems to pinpoint moments when you’re trying to focus on a conversation, then she’ll suddenly appear behind you again, brushing your hair aside under the pretense of “fixing your necklace”, her fingers ghosting over your throat and the back of your neck respectively.

Whenever you’d move or reach for something, her hands are on your hips like she wants to help guide you. But the way she caresses them, and even sneaks her fingers just under the hem of your shirt at one point, tells a completely different story. A completely different and entirely not innocent story.

The worst moment comes when your friend Mia compliments the apartment.

“It’s so cozy!” She beams, turning in a full 360 to take in the decor. “You guys did a great job with decorating. It feels like a little bit of both your personalities blended together perfectly,”

Yelena hums from behind you, her hand settling where your ribs slope into your waist. “That’s all y/n’s doing. She’s the one who keeps the place beautiful. I am just lucky she lets me live here. She’s the one calling the shots, isn’t that right, milaya?” and then she whispers ‘my good girl’ in Russian, right up against your ear so you’re the only one who hears it.

Heat rockets up the back of your neck, the praise landing low in your stomach. The way Yelena says that you’re the one that lets her live here. Like you’re the one in charge. It makes your knees go weak in an unexplainable way.

Yelena notices your fluster, because of course she does. And instead of dialing it back, she doubles down. “Did you like that?” she whispers, making you jolt and slosh the drink that’s in your hand. You quickly set it down before you can spill anything else, turning to glare at your girlfriend, only to find Yelena once again scurrying away with a knowing smile on her face.

An hour later, you escape to the guest room for a moment of sanity. But Yelena is there within sixty seconds, as if she’d been seeking you out.

“Hiding from me now, zaika?” she teases as she saunters in.

You shake your head too fast, even though you most definitely were. “No, I was just…making sure this room was okay, just in case someone wanted to stay over,”

Yelena arches a brow as she steps closer. “Well. This may make me sound like a poor host, but I don’t really want anyone to stay the night.”

Your lower lip pushes out in a slight pout. “Why do you say that?”

Yelena smiles, her thumb reaching out to brush your lower lip. “Because,” she begins, her eyes simmering. “With the way you’ve been looking at me all night, I think it would just be weird if someone did stay over, no?”

Your throat tightens. “What? I haven’t been looking at you like—“

“—like you’d devour me whole if we didn’t have an audience? Yes, milaya, you most certainly have,”

Your cheeks flush. “Well…don’t you think you’re to blame for that?”

“To blame for what?” Yelena presses. “All I’ve done was call you my good girl and tell you how good and sweet you’re being tonight. That’s just me telling the truth. Don’t you like your girlfriend to be honest?”

“Lena…please…” you plead softly.

“Please what?” she tilts your chin up. “Use your words.”

This woman was trying to kill you.

You swallow hard. “Can…can we just go to the bedroom? What if we’re quick?”

Yelena’s smirk is knowing and entirely lethal. “Well, that would be rude, wouldn’t it, little one? With all our guests out there?” She brushes a thumb over your heated cheek. “You’ll have to wait, okay? You can be good for me a little longer. I know you can.”

You weren’t sure that was true, considering you could combust on the spot right about now. But Yelena merely kisses your forehead, sweet as anything, and strolls back out of the guest room as if she didn’t just unravel what was left of your resolve.

***

The next three hours are agony. Having to play hostess while ignoring the rampant horniness Yelena had instilled in you wasn’t exactly a small feat. But somehow you manage, and before long, you’re thanking the last guest as they leave your apartment.

The door clicks shut behind them and then silence. You barely have time to turn before Yelena is crowding you up against the closed door.

“My shy girl,” she purrs, cupping your jaw with one hand. “You waited so patiently for me.” Her other hand slides up your side.

“Lena—“

“Look at me.”

You do, and your protest dies on your lips.

Yelena’s voice is soft, but stays firm. “Eyes on me the whole time. You wanted my attention all night, now you keep it.”

And then she’s kissing you, slow and deep. It’s not a question of whether or not you melt into it. It’s completely involuntary. Your legs practically give out beneath you as you kiss Yelena back, pawing at her blazer, wanting to just rip it off of her.

But Yelena pulls back way before you’re ready for her to, watching your expression as her hand drifts beneath your shirt.

“Your skin is so warm, so flushed,” she points out as she rubs small circles just under your ribs. “That’s because of me, isn’t it?”

You nod.

“You know I want the words, milaya,”

“Yes,” you breathe. “You’re…it’s you. You’re making me feel…a lot of things right now. You have been all night,”

“I’m guessing that means you want me?” Yelena’s thumb strokes your cheek as she watches your face.

“Yes,” you say. “I want you, Yelena,”

“Are you going to say please for me? Use your manners like a good girl?”

“Please?” Your eyes are big and pleading as you look at her. “Please, Lena? I need you,”

Yelena takes your hands, fingers slotting perfectly between your own as she leads you down the hall to your shared bedroom. The second the bedroom door closes, Yelena’s mouth is on yours again. This kiss is just as heated as the first, if not more. Her hands slide down your sides before setting on your hips. Then, she breaks the kiss just enough to murmur, “Back against the wall.”

You go without thinking, your breath trembling as your shoulders meet the cool surface. Yelena follows, crowding your space, her forehead touching yours.

“Good girl,” she whispers, kissing the corner of your mouth. “Already listening.”

Her thumbs stroke your hips, then she drags one hand down your thigh, guiding your legs slightly apart, just enough to make your heart stutter. Then, as if your heart weren’t already racing enough, Yelena lowers herself to her knees in front of you without ever breaking eye contact.

You try your best to keep your breathing steady, but the sight of her—Yelena Belova, beautiful and kneeling between your legs with her hands splayed on your thighs—steals every coherent thought you had left.

Her palms slide up slowly, pushing your skirt up higher, inch by inch until it bunches around your hips. She lets out a soft exhale when she sees your panties.

“Pretty,” she says, her voice rough. “You always look so pretty for me.”

You whimper, gripping the wall behind you.

Yelena leans in and kisses the inside of your thigh; barely a brush, more breath than contact. You gasp softly.

She smiles against your skin. “There it is. You always make the sweetest sounds,”

Her teeth graze lightly over your skin and your legs nearly buckle. She steadies you instantly with firm hands, looking up at you through her lashes. “Try to keep your eyes on me, okay, milaya? I’m right here,”

You swallow hard, nodding. Good, Yelena’s expression says without words. My good girl.

She leans in again, closer this time, and pressed her mouth over your mound through your panties. The warmth of her breath and the slow pressure of her lips…It makes your head fall back and a soft, helpless sound trickle from your mouth.

“Look at me,” Yelena reminds, voice muffled against you.

You force your gaze down again. Her eyes lock with yours; smug, dark, and so full of hunger.

And then, she licks you. Her strokes are long and slow, right through the damp fabric of your underwear. Your knees buckle again.

“F-fuck, Lena!”

Yelena’s hands grip your thighs harder, and she licks again. Then again, adding more pressure, flattening her tongue as she drags it upward. Your hips jolt without permission. That earns a soft laugh against you—followed by Yelena’s mouth closing around the spot that makes your legs shake.

“Oh god, Lena…please—“

Yelena pulls back just enough to talk, her breath hot against the soaked cotton. “Please what?”

You bite down a whine, your hands flexing uselessly against the wall.

Yelena tilts her head, studying you. “You want more?” She drags her tongue over you again, even slower this time if that’s even possible. “You want me to take these off?” She tugs at the waistband lightly with her teeth.

“Yes! Yes, please!”

Yelena smiles. “You’re begging so sweetly, and I’ve barely touched you yet.”

Barely? Was she serious? You don’t even have the strength to tell her she’s full of shit.

Her fingers stroke your thighs softly, steadying you as she mouths at your clit through your panties; open-mouthed kisses, slow suction, the wet heat of her breath making everything better and also worse. You feel so goddamn dizzy.

Every time you whimper, Yelena hums approval against you. Every time your legs shake, her grip tightens possessively.

Finally, blessedly, Yelena hooks her fingers into your panties and pulls them down—slow enough to tease, yet fast enough to drive you mad. The moment they hit the floor, Yelena slides her hands up your thighs again, spreading them further, pinning you with her stare.

“Now, hold still for me. And don’t look away.”

You barely manage a nod before she leans in and licks you again, tongue on bare skin now, wet and deliberate. Your entire body jolts.

“Yelena—“ your voice cracks on her name.

“There she is,” Yelena whispers. “I could not wait to hear more of your beautiful sounds.”

Her tongue slides lower, then up again, lips closing around your clit. You let out the kind of sound you usually try to hide, high-pitched and breathless, and it would be embarrassing if you weren’t so far gone already, drunk on the feel of Yelena’s tongue in all the right places.

“Look at me,” she says again, firmer this time, dominance threading through her tone. You hadn’t even realized you’d squeezed your eyes shut

You force your gaze downward again, meeting her eyes just as she sucks harder. You gasp, fingers curling against the wall. Yelena moans softly into you, like your reaction turns her on, like she’s feeding on it.

“You’re doing so well,” she murmurs between licks.“So responsive. So sweet. So perfect for me.”

Your hips start to move without your permission and she pulls you closer, mouth relentless, letting your hips rock against her face.

“Let me see you,” she breathes against you. “Don’t hide from me. Look right at me while you come.”

That alone almost finishes you. The world narrows to Yelena’s mouth, her voice, her hands. Your thighs tremble uncontrollably. Your breath breaks. Your head drops forward with a desperate sob.

“Lena—oh god—please—”

Her tongue moves faster—focused, knowing, like she’s memorized every reaction you’ve ever had. Her voice is low and commanding against your skin:“Come for me, detka. Let me see you.”

Your vision goes white. Your legs nearly give out. And the only thing keeping you upright is Yelena holding you in place as you fall apart on her tongue, trembling against the wall, crying out her name like a prayer. She doesn’t stop until you’re gasping, pushing weakly at her shoulder because it’s too much. Then she pulls back, wet chin and all, breathless and devouring you with her gaze.

She kisses the inside of your thigh, slow and soft, then stands, cupping your face gently as you try to steady yourself. Her voice is warm and devastatingly soft: “Good girl.”

Yelena leads you to the bed, one steady hand at your lower back, and you’re grateful for it because there is absolutely no universe in which your legs would’ve carried you on their own. She pulls back the covers and helps you settle beneath them, then sheds her own clothes and slides in beside you, gathering you into her arms.

You melt into her instantly, tucking your face into the warm crook of her neck. Her skin smells faintly of the perfume she put on earlier, mixed with something undeniably her.

Her hand comes up to stroke your hair. “Okay?” She checks in, voice softened in a way reserved only for you.

“More than,” you breathe, still a little dazed, still trying to come back to your body.

She smiles, and you can feel it against your forehead.

“And to think you wanted this during our party…” Her fingers drag lightly along your spine. “You might be naughtier than I give you credit for.”

Your face burns against her neck, and you whine, “Don’t be mean!”

“I’m not!” she laughs under her breath. A warm, fond sound that rumbles through her chest. “Just an observation.”

Her hand tilts your chin up gently so she can look at you. Her eyes are soft and so full of love, that it makes your chest ache. “You know I love getting to see the different sides of you,” she murmurs. “I like my girl layered.”

You groan and hide your face again. Yelena laughs, pulling the blankets tighter around you both.

“See? Layered,” she teases. “Shy. Sweet. A little desperate when no one’s watching.”

“Yelena!”

“I’m complimenting you,” she insists, kissing the top of your head. “I happen to love every version of you.”

You groan again. “You’re impossible.”

She kisses the tip of your nose. “And you love me.”

That was factual. And the way Yelena wraps you up in her arms?

“I don’t think you have five minutes to spare, Kate. If you’re late again, I know your mom is gonna have some words for you. Plus, you still need to eat something,”

“There’s a bagel shop next to the company. I can just get something there,” Kate counters, making you roll your eyes.

“At least open your eyes, so I know you’re not gonna fall back asleep on me,” you say.

Kate does, albeit reluctantly, lifting her head just enough for her eyes to flicker open. They’re hazy—pupils big and lashes tangled. She looks like trouble in the cutest way.

And then you see it—the exact moment she realizes where her hand is resting. Already cupping your breast. Already squeezing softly. And her thumb seems to have a mind of its own, brushing back and forth over your nipple through the your shirt. Well, Kate’s shirt. The motion makes her freeze and you raise an eyebrow.

“…I didn’t even do this on purpose,” she mumbles.

You hum. “Sure. Your hand just tripped and fell on my boob, huh?”

“Yes, actually. My hand has a mind of its own,” She gropes you again and you laugh. “See?”

You should make her get up. She has work, things to do, a rigid schedule she has to stick to. But you also know exactly what this does to her, and just how much of a chokehold this particular kink has her in. How worked up she gets from your chest alone. How red her face goes when you catch her staring. How she makes the softest little noises when your fingers tangle in her hair and guide her mouth down.

So you tilt her chin up with two fingers. “Kate.”

“Mhm?”

“This is gonna make you late.”

Her cheeks go pink, just like you knew they would. “I know.”

“Yet, you’re still fondling me,”

“I know,” Kate says again, quieter this time, her lip caught between her teeth.

You slip your fingers under your shirt and guide it higher, lifting it just enough to expose the soft curve of your breast. Kate’s breath stutters.

“Baby…” her voice breaks on the word. “You can’t do that if you expect me to leave on time,”

“I don’t expect that at all, actually,” you reply. “I already know you don’t wanna leave,”

Kate shakes her head quickly. “Not even a little.”

You take her wrist and flatten her palm over your bare breast. Kate gasps, but immediately squeezes the soft flesh, thumb circling your nipple like she’s been deprived for weeks. You arch into her touch, a soft sigh escaping your lips.

Kate likes this. That much is clear when her hips roll against your thigh.

“Katie,” you whisper. “Look at you,”

“I can’t help it,” Kate whimpers, already beginning to lean in. “You’re…you’re so—“ she doesn’t finish the thought because her mouth is already on you, hot and desperate.

You moan when she licks over your nipple, letting her tongue flatten and then drag. Her eyes flutter shut at the taste and she moans too. It’s quiet but so needy, and you feel it vibrate through your chest.

“Baby…” is all you can manage before you’re moaning again.

Kate sucks harder than she means to. Her fingers dig into your waist. She’s losing herself and you can feel it in the way her breathing picks up, in the little grind of her hips, in the way her other hand drags up your ribs to cup your other breast.

“God, you’re so fucking cute,” you breathe, threading your fingers into her hair and gently tugging her closer.

“No, you,” Kate says instantly, voice muffled against your skin. “And you taste so sweet. I feel so fucking lucky, baby,”

She sucks again, wetter this time, tongue circling before her lips pull tight around your nipple, making you swear. Her hips push harder into your thigh, slow, shy, and still very needy.

“You seem like you need more,” you purr into her ear.

Kate whimpers in reply.

“Need me to take over?” you ask.

When Kate whimpers again, you roll her onto her back.the sight of her beneath you is beautiful—cheeks flushed, lips swollen from sucking at your chest, her hair a dark halo on the pillow. She looks wrecked already; eyes barely open and thighs tensing beneath you. Her breath trips like she’s been edging for an hour, not five minutes.

And all you’ve done was press against her. So you do it again.

You slowly drag your bare chest down her front until your nipples graze her tank top. Kate shudders, hips lifting desperately to meet you.

“Baby,” she gasps, grabbing your waist. “Please…please don’t tease,”

“Why not?” you murmur, letting your breasts rub against hers again, soft and slow. “You get so worked up, Katie. You’re practically trembling.”

“I…I’m not…god, I just need you. Please c’mere…” she tries to pull you down, but you pin her wrists to the pillow, just to hear that soft breathy whine fall out of her.

But it’s brief, and then you blessedly put Kate out of her misery, stripping her until she’s just as bare as you.

You straddle her thigh first—just light enough to make her freeze, breath catching. Your bare pussy brushes her warm skin and her eyes go wide.

“Oh my god,” she whispers.

“You feel that?” Your voice is a purr, hips shifting just enough that her thigh slots perfectly between yours. “You feel how wet I am for you?”

Kate nods, already trying to lift her leg to grind up into you. You let her, rewarding her with a slow, smooth roll of your hips that drags your soaked clit right along the top of Kate’s thigh.

Kate’s head falls back against the pillow. “Fuck,” she swears. “Fuck, fuck, that’s—oh my god,”

You smirk and slide one hand up, cupping Kate’s breast and lowering your head so your mouth can take her nipple. You suck slow, and the sound Kate makes is absolutely filthy in the best way.

Her thigh jerks beneath you, her muscles tightening as she tries to chase the friction.

“Stay still,” you command softly.

And Kate tries. She really does. But when you grind down again, Kate bucks, hips lifting to to meet you, soft mewling noises leaving her lips one after the other.

“Feels so good,” she mumbles, grabbing your waist again. “Oh god, oh god…”

You move faster, letting your clit slide along Kate’s thigh with consistent pressure, catching just enough friction that each grind sends heat coiling low and fast in your stomach.

“Look at you,” you breathe against Kate’s breast. “So desperate, you’re shaking. You really wanna come that bad?”

Kate is past the point of being able to answer verbally, so she settles for nodding her head vigorously.

Your hips lift a little and you grab her other thigh, pulling it higher until you can slot your bodies together perfectly—your center against hers, soft heat to soft heat. You both rock in tandem. A perfect, aching heat that steals your breath for a second. Kate’s entire body arches off the bed.

You kiss her—messy, deep, needy—and increase the pace, hips rocking faster, wetter sounds filling the quiet morning air. Your clits catch just right every third thrust and Kate’s thighs twitch, trying to pull you even closer, like she can drag your body inside hers.

Her breath hits a broken rhythm. “Please…don’t stop, don’t—“

“I’m not stopping, baby,” you promise breathlessly, layering sloppy kisses on Kate’s neck, her jaw. “You’re gonna come with me, Katie. Same time, okay? I don’t care if you make a mess,”

Kate moans, a helpless, overwhelmed sound—and her nails dig into your back. Your clit throbs every time you grind down. You’re both so wet, the slick heat between you feels like it’s melting every nerve in your body.

Kate’s breaths turn into sharp little gasps. Her thighs tighten around you. Her stomach contracts. Her hips stutter. She’s close. So close.

“Baby—baby—I’m— I’m gonna—oh—oh god—” She grabs your face, kisses you sloppily, messy breaths breaking between each kiss. “Don’t stop—don’t stop—I’m right there—please—please—”

Your own orgasm builds fast—too fast—from the friction, the heat, the way Kate is falling apart underneath you like you’re the only thing she’s ever wanted. You grind harder, firmer, your clit catching perfectly against hers, again—again—again—

Kate sobs out a sound that’s not even a word—

And then she breaks.

Her orgasm hits her in one sharp, overwhelming wave; her back arching high off the bed, thighs shaking, hips grinding uncontrollably into yours as she comes hard, wet and desperate and trembling under you.

The second she pulses against you, you fall right over the edge with her. Your orgasm crashes through you, white-hot, your hips shaking as you grind through it, pressing into Kate’s thigh, her pussy, her whole trembling body as pleasure rips through your center and leaves you gasping against her mouth.

Kate holds you through it—arms wrapped around you tight, kissing your jaw, your cheek, your shoulder—half crying, half laughing with relief.

You collapse on top of her, both of you breathing like you ran a mile. Kate’s voice is tiny. Shaky. Wrecked.

It’s been a few months now, and the two of you are starting to find your footing in the relationship. You’ve been taking your time. So much so that you haven’t even had sex yet. But that didn’t seem to be an issue for Yelena. She was more than okay with going at your pace, which helped you breathe a little easier.

But still. Every time she touched you, every time she pulled you closer, every time she kissed you, trapping your lower lip between her own, you would get this pull in your lower abdomen. Like maybe you were ready for more. If only you weren’t too shy to breach the topic.

Right now, it was late, nearly midnight, and you were over at Yelena’s place again. You hadn’t intended to stay this late, had only really meant to stay for dinner and a movie. But it felt so nice being snuggled up to Yelena like this on her couch. And the way she kept running her fingers through your hair was lulling you like nobody’s business.

“Why don’t you stay tonight, zaika?” she murmurs, bringing you out of your thoughts.

“I didn’t bring my overnight bag,” you reply softly.

Yelena shrugs, her fingers still running through the strands of your hair. “So I’ll let you wear something of mine. You’re much cuter in my clothes than I am anyway,”

You smile. “I don’t wanna impose,”

“You wouldn’t be,” Yelena takes your hand and brings it to her mouth, warm lips brushing against your knuckles. “Besides,” she looks up, meets your eyes. “I want you here tonight,”

And your heart stutters then. Because something in Yelena’s voice, something in her gaze leads you to believe that this night could be different. Like maybe she wants you here for more than just sharing a bed.

“Okay,” you say, feeling the butterflies gather just between your ribs. “I’ll stay,”

Yelena seems to like this answer because she presses another kiss against your knuckles. Then your inner wrist. Then, she’s moving closer so she can peck your cheek. Her fingers reach up to trace your jaw as she pins you with those deep eyes. You try to shy away from the eye contact, but she guides your face back gently.

And she kisses you.

And suddenly nothing else matters. Nothing else exists. Just the press of her mouth and the gentle insistence of her tongue, slipping past your lips with ease. You melt into her instantly. Your hands fist into her shirt and your breath leaves you in a soft, helpless sound you didn’t mean to make.

Yelena pulls back a little. Just enough to see your face.

“There you are,” she says, taking in your flushed cheeks.

Your stomach tumbles at the look in her eyes. “Yelena…”

She brushes her thumb over your lower lip. “Wanna go to the bedroom?” she asks softly.

You nod as if in a trance. Your heart was a caged bird in your chest.

Yelena stands and holds out her hand, and you take it, your legs carrying you before your brain can catch up.

In Yelena’s bedroom, the lights are dim. Her sheets are still rumpled from the morning. Her phone is facedown on the bed table (she always made it a habit of leaving her phone where she couldn’t see it when she was with you. And it always tugged at your heart that she wanted to give you her undivided attention that way)

Yelena closes the bedroom door behind you and steps close. So close that you can feel her warm breath on your cheek.

“You’re nervous,” she remarks. There’s no judgment in her tone, she’s just stating a fact.

“A little,” you whisper.

Yelena cups your face in one hand. Her touch is absurdly gentle for someone so objectively strong. “We can go slow,” she says. “You can tell me what you do and don’t like. Is that okay?”

You nod and she kisses you for reassurance. Then again, deeper, longer, until your knees go weak and she has to guide you onto the bed with hands firm on your hips.

Once you’re seated, Yelena kneels in front of you, hands on your thighs. “Tell me what is okay,” she repeats, tone firm yet gentle.

“You-you can touch me more,” you breathe. “I trust you,”

Her eyes soften, warming you from the inside out. And then, “Good girl,” she whispers. The words make your breath hitch, and Yelena notices.

She leans in, kissing your neck, your jaw, your shoulder. Every brush of her lips feels like a promise. Then, her hands are sliding underneath your shirt.

“Can I take this off?”

“Y-yes,”

She lifts it over your head, kissing your collarbone before the fabric even hits the floor. Then she turns her attention lower, kissing a path down your sternum, reveling in every little gasp you let slip.

“Lie back,” she murmurs

And you do, chest heaving already.

Yelena settles between your thighs, kissing the soft skin there. Her palms glide up until they rest dangerously close to your waistband.

“Is this okay?” she asks.

You nod.

“I need to hear the words, milaya,” Yelena coaxes.

“Yes,” it comes out breathless. “Yes, it’s okay. More than okay,”

Yelena smiles against your hip as she pulls your shorts down, dragging her mouth along your thigh as she goes. You feel yourself start to tremble beneath her.

“I love how sensitive you are,” Yelena mumbles.

Her fingers stroke your inner thigh, not quite touching you where you want her, just exploring. Her mouth returns to your skin—kissing, tasting and teasing.

You can’t seem to stay quiet, continually letting out these tiny, broken sounds you don’t even recognize as your own. And Yelena hears every single one. Her lips move closer to your heat, warm breath ghosting over you…

And then she pauses.

“Before we go further,” she says suddenly, lifting her head to look at you. “I want to ask you something.”

Your heart lurches. “Okay…”

“Would it be okay if I used a toy on you?”

Your breath comes out in a shocked puff. Definitely not the question you were expecting to hear. And the truth spills out before you can stop it.

“I’ve actually never even used one on myself before, so…” you pointedly avoid Yelena’s gaze as you admit this aloud, cheeks turning scarlet as you rub the back of your neck.

“Never?” she asks.

You shake your head.

“Well having someone else do the work would feel a lot different than doing it yourself,” Yelena says, her palms kneading gently at your thighs. “Would you be okay with giving it a try?”

You bring your gaze back to Yelena’s and it’s hard not to lose yourself in that sweet, earnest expression. “You can stop me at any time,” she goes on. “And we can even have a safe word if you want,”

Warmth blooms in your chest. How in the world had you been able to cross paths with someone as tender and attentive as Yelena? What had you done to get so lucky?

“I’ll tell you if I need to stop,” you say finally.

Yelena smiles. Presses a kiss to your knee. “Good. And just so you know—“ her hands move to the undersides of your thighs, giving them a squeeze as well. “—you are always safe with me.”

You believed that wholeheartedly.

You watch as Yelena reaches into her nightstand and pulls out a small vibrator. It’s a pretty shade of blue and not half as scary-looking as you would’ve thought. But when she turns it on the lowest setting and it hums to life, you jump at the sound.

“Still okay?” Yelena asks, climbing up onto the bed beside you.

“Still okay,” you confirm, and Yelena presses a soft kiss to your cheek.

“Lie back,” she says before settling between your thighs. “I’ll take care of you. And remember, tell me if it’s too much,”

You do lie back then, legs falling open for Yelena on instinct. And then, she touches you. Just a light, careful press to your clit. But you gasp so sharply that your back arches off the bed.

“Yelena!” you breathe.

“Already?” Yelena remarks, a soft laugh leaving her. “That was fast,”

She moves the toy in slow, perfect circles, barely applying pressure. The vibrations are so new and so overwhelming that you can’t control the sounds leaving your mouth. Embarrassed, you try to clamp a hand over your mouth, but Yelena catches your wrist instantly, pulling it away.

“No,” she says gently. “Let me hear you.”

“But I…I’m loud,”

“I know, zaika. I like it,” Yelena increases the vibration by one click and your whole body jolts.

You moan, long and breathy and unrestrained. Yelena’s eyes flutter at the sound, clearly affected. “There she is,” she breathes. “My quiet girl is not so quiet now.”

You’re shaking by now, thighs trembling uncontrollably. The pleasure builds too quickly, too intensely, and something sharp and hot rises in your stomach.

“Yelena, I…I think I’m—“

Her voice drops to a whisper. “Let it happen.”

The orgasm hits like a wave crashing over you—sudden, all-consuming, and impossible to hold back. You cry out, your hips jerking as your whole body tightens and then breaks apart.

Yelena holds you through it, arm firm around your waist, her mouth at your ear murmuring, “Good girl…that’s it…I’ve got you…breathe…”

You sob softly through the aftershocks and the second she senses it’s too much, Yelena turns the toy off. Placing it aside, she pulls you into her arms, easing you against her chest. You melt into her instantly, still trembling. Still floating.

“You did so well,” Yelena says, kissing your forehead.

You tuck your face into her neck. “Was I…did I sound stupid?”

Yelena’s hand cups the back of your head, holding you close. “No,” she whispers. “You sounded beautiful. Like music organized just for me,”

You blush so hard at that description that you have to hide your face again. Yelena laughs softly, tightening her arms around you, nuzzling into your hair. “Stay tonight,” she whispers. “And tomorrow. And whenever you want.”

Your heart stutters. You lift your head just enough to look at her. “That sounds an awful lot like you’re asking me to move in.”

Yelena huffs a soft laugh. “That would be very stereotypical of me to say so,” but then, her expression shifts and she takes your hand gently. She brings it to her mouth and once again brushes her lips over your knuckles.

“But,” she murmurs against your skin, “Don’t let go of that thought.”

Warmth spreads through your chest in a slow, blooming rush. Not panic. Not fear. Just… possibility. Hope. Something that feels dangerously close to love.

You rest your forehead against hers, whispering, “Okay.”