the keys turning overlaps the typing on your laptop.

“hey,” you utter, a barely-there smile from the older woman greeting you. she’s as gorgeous as she left the house, a boatnecked light ivory silk dress with a simple ivory slingback, hair pulled back in a messy bun, loose strands curtaining her face . the only difference is the frown it leaves you, taking in her stance; slightly uncoordinated balance, drooping shoulders, unpleasant in her updo. “hey, oh hey, you okay?” you shut your laptop and shove it in your tote. “you look…”

the thin curve of her lips turn into a big pout, brown doe eyes blinking at you expectantly.

“...exhausted,” you say, and as if on cue, baran lets out a loud sigh, collapsing against the doorframe. she puts her purse against her face and groans loudly.

“...and clearly frustrated.”

she mumbles something in farsi and kicks off her heels, “these stupid heels!”, watching the disorder and immediately placing them in the shoe rack by the door.

“they’re gorgeous, baran,” you insist, observing her next outburst. the older woman tends to let out her frustrations one at a time, mulling over her emotions and how best to express them. you believe her reluctance is in consideration of your well-being, preventing you from being a vessel of release from her troubles whether it be by work or life or something else. 

the doctor gives you a quick look of irritation before charging onto the wine cabinet, barefoot with heavy footfalls. the hem glides along the flooring like a current.

she whips out a cabernet sauvignon and two wine glasses, setting them on top of the furniture, arranging them in a line. she quickly works through the bottle with a corkscrew, expertly twisting and turning. you’re completely immersed in the movement, her muscles flexing as she bites her lip in concentration, leaving a space of frustration in between furrowed brows. 

you jump when it pops, the sound soothing the older woman to smile.  

baran, ebbing from her flow, tilts her head to you with a slow eye flutter, “how is he? asleep?”

it takes you a second to respond, “yes, completely tucked in in his new sheets,” zeroing in on baran’s tight grip on the bottle, resulting in the flex of her biceps. you clear your throat, “he didn’t finish the pizza so you have six slices waiting for you in the fridge,” a grin blossoming in your face at the memory, snapping you back to sanity. 

baran curves ones side of her lips upwards then pokes the inside of her cheeks. biting her lip yet again as she continues to stare, setting the bottle down in defeat. she groans, as if something is actively trying to take control over her. 

“i don’t have the appetite after tonight,” she admits, “tomorrow for breakfast,” she promises, dejectedly bringing the cure to her problems towards you. 

baran gracefully treads in your proximity, the flow of the fabric levitating her off the earth, gravity controlled like no other. the shade enhances the glow in her clear, olive skin, embracing her figure in the right places. the gears in your head turn a shade greener, noting how it clings to her like a second skin, putting all socialites to shame. jealousy is one of your strongest suits. 

baran’s dress is backless, the light playing with the seduction of every depression and elevation of her back, her muscles toned but softened by the smooth skin. your tongue glides in the backs of your upper teeth as the dip on the low end gapes at you. 

the hairs in your spine shoot up when her knuckles touch your palm, handing you a glass, resistance getting harder by the minute. her scent engulfs your senses, blurring your judgment, leaving you with less control. you can’t want this and so you want more.

you chuckle, “trouble in paradise?” assimilating in baran’s new emotion, never mind the ones she’s causing you. 

she sighs, “far from paradise,” closing her eyes in disbelief.  “it’s been literal hell since the other attending i substituted came back. you know, the one i told you about,” she conceded, taking a swig to her situation, forehead wrinkled in prolonged annoyance and misery. 

“ah,” you utter, partially distracted. 

scanning the movement of her throat as it bobs to the array of baby hairs on her temple where your desire begins and ends—wishing you could place a finger there, feel the pulse. prove it skips a beat when she looks at you. 

baran stares, doe-eyed and all, in a way that almost answers your question. 

you look away, flummoxed, heat pooling in your cheeks. 

the older woman brings her glass forward and you follow, the clink appeasing the former, grinning at the progress of the night. it’s quite monumental to turn baran’s rotten night to almost rotten, but it overpowers the silent prayer you’ve sent out to sustain your bessotted state, distrusting your autonomy with a woman as beautiful as baran. 

you feel your teeth grind as baran envelops her lips around the rim, stain leaving a mark, mixing in the maroon liquid. you’re not the classy type, at least, you’ve never tried to be, so this demonstration is a rare learning opportunity. that’s why you don’t blink, not wanting to miss a second of how much liquid the doctor takes in her mouth, when she swallows, and when she should want more. you’re too focused on baran to notice her eyes lingering on your thighs, watching intently as you squeeze them at her every move. 

she hums, “you like it?” lowering her voice, waiting for your tics to open up to her. 

this is a treacherous indulgence, but the pull is stronger than your agency, finding yourself batting your eyes at her, slowly nodding your head. she takes another sip to hide her smirk. the older woman grimaces, fingers massaging her left calf. as expected, you act on cue, obediently falling into the routine you and the doctor have fostered the past few months. 

baran gingerly places a hand on your thigh, gripping it loosely. you stare at her hand and not her eyes. 

“not today,” she says, coddling your name like a lullaby. you hesitate, unsure what else you’d be useful for. as if baran can read your mind, she licks her lips, blinking her eyes, “it’s okay, you don’t have to. you can just…just stay up here with me…”

she relaxes when you do, keeping an eye for a sudden shift in action. you tend to end up committing to your own whim, and she preferred to be in on it. despite the uncertainty, baran focuses on reassuring you, rubbing your upper back and giving you a soft smile. 

settling into the couch, she sighs, “you don’t know how grateful i am for you to be here…” crossing her legs, the sound of silk giving you butterflies in the stomach. she nudges at your wine glass. you take a sip, afraid, interested, reluctant. nights with the al-hashimis typically end in massages or past midnight conversations about diego and work. you’ve refused a sleepover multiple times even with the insistence on your safety, baran’s concern and doting eyes almost deciding against your boundaries. you hate the idea of giving her more things to worry about; accommodation, extra pay, and a shoulder to cry on.  

“likewise. it’s the highlight of my day,” you half-tease, a brow lift tilting your axis like never before. smug, she asks, “not my son?”

“oh he’s brilliant, of course, but he wouldn’t be a happy child without his amazing mother and…”

this should be like one of those days, but baran is staring at you differently, as if she’s stripping you away from the title, as if she’s scanning what else lies beneath there. 

baran finishes her portion and takes the entire bottle, drinking from the source, her eyes never leaving yours. 

she swipes a speck of red at the side of her mouth then sucks on her thumb. 

you gulp a load of saliva down your throat. 

“be careful now, we wouldn’t want your other clients hearing the best babysitter in town has a preference,”

baran’s lipstick has stained the glass that’s now on the table, transferring the color there, leaving her lips a little less flashy, a little more domestic. subdued. delectable. irresistible. 

she licks her lips and a few of her saliva stays at the flesh, catching the light, illuminating the plumpness. 

“they’ve got to deal with it,” you start, swirling the red in the glass, catching the one second bite of her lower lip, “you’re my favorite.”

it comes out the way you didn’t intend to, shifting the atmosphere completely, the momentum causing you to squirm in the feeling of intimacy, the lines tangling without end. 

baran chuckles, the sound sending a shot of electricity down the middle of your thighs. 

she shakes her head, slurring, “khoda rahmat koneh,” racking her brown doe eyes all over your face, amusement and esteem glowing off of her. 

“what did you just say?”

“chi? ah, i can’t believe you’re in my life right now,” baran acknowledges, dribbling over at her words, giggling as she takes another sip. her eyes dilate.

“is that so?”

“no, not really,” she admits, teasing with her gorgeous smile, doctor doe eyes bright and big as ever. 

you shake your head. 

“you know, if i had you there by my side, i sure wouldn’t be as grumpy as i was the moment the other attending–robinavitch—greeted me at the door–”

“the one you told me about?” 

the doctor groans and puts a hand on her forehead. “yes,” she exasperated. 

“that bad?” you gasp, seeing her pout for a second. “i’m sorry you didn’t invite me,” you chaff, receiving another doe-eyed look you can’t pronounce. baran’s eyes are completely dilated, examining your every move, like you were a set of organs for her to operate on. 

“i would know what to do next time,” she settles. 

baran shifts her attention to your barely-drank red wine. she purses her lips, waiting for your next move. when you don’t—helplessly staring at her—she places the bottle at the coffee table, occupying her hand with yours. she decides then, to help you out, generously drinks half of the liquid, flickering her eyes between your hands and your thighs, lightly quivering. 

you poor thing. 

the older woman shifts closer to you, swirls the red in its carrier, and places her thumb on your chin. she rotates the glass, presses your lips against the stain of her lipstick, red liquid dripping into it. 

fuck. 

you can barely breathe.

“wouldn’t want it going to waste,” she croons. 

fuck. 

“y-yeah, right, of course, i-i’m–”

“you don’t have to apologize,” she counseled, shaking her head.

you feel faint.

you’d be the first to stutter while humming, your body in an extreme fight-or-flight mode response that brainlessly grabs your tote, a chant of a final goodbye about to roll out of your tongue. you could barely register the fact you’ve buried yourself six feet deep the moment you started dreaming about the older woman, forgetting to realize that the only way to make it out alive is whether or not baran wants to provide a helping hand.

baran catches your wrist the moment you stood up, looking up at you like she knew all along an escape route brewed the moment she walked through the door. she tilts her head, “come here,” uncrossing her lap, coaxing you to sit.

you obey instantly, farewell out the door, leaving without you, shaking in its boots.

baran tugs your wrists and you find yourself spreading your legs, bearing your entire weight into her lap. your feel your clitoris pulse at the contact. 

you’re staring at the contrast, silk and cotton-polyester in contact, wondering if it’ll ever get to grinding. if it’ll remain a divide between you and your desires.

baran’s amused to say the least, knowing you’d hide in your shell, timidly casting your head down, waiting until you’re brave enough to face her. she knows you won’t, putting a hand on your shoulder and running it through your arm. you shiver, meeting her brown orbs when she tilts your chin upwards.

“you want this?” she asks, eyes glazed over, holding onto her final restraint, squeezing your hand in the process.

you nod your head. 

she sighs in relief, nudging her nose with your own, breath ghosting over your lips. you could almost feel her, you’re so close. you feel her grin, bowing her head to catch your lips, pressing a kiss on your bottom cusp.

she’s soft, warm, heady with a mix of red wine. 

baran pulls away to see how you are, glee spreading throughout her body as she watches you with eyes closed, going back in for a peck, and then another. and then some more, gliding her tongue inside your mouth with a moan.

you grind into her lap when the noise breaks out, a smile and a sigh between kisses. snaking her hands around your waist as you place yours on her cheeks, clipping the loose strands of hair behind her ear.

baran’s cheeks have blossomed out in a feverish blush, panting as she pulls away, scanning your disheveled state. she gives you a peck before she grabs the wine bottle in her hand, rubbing your thigh. she takes a sip and dives back into your kiss, pulling you closer into her, passing the wine into your mouth, draining it with vigor.

you whine, feeling the liquid in your mouth, tartly sweet and something else that’s just baran.

and then you’re both just hungry. 

you pounce onto her, grabbing the nape of her neck and completely pressing yourself against her, kissing her ferociously, lapping at her mouth with no abandon. baran tightens the grip on your hips and guides them, humping her thigh at a steady pace. she latches onto your tongue and begins to suck it, her vice-grip and the squelch getting you wetter and needier. 

you whine when she pulls away, sending sloppy kisses down your neck, nipping at the flesh, grazing her tongue ‘til she reaches the side just below your jaw. she hums before she sucks at your pulse point, causing your eyes to roll back, your body tingling at the pleasure. 

a long moan draws out of you. 

“that’s it,” baran sighs, your lower lip in between her teeth. 

your sweatpants come off, lifting your hips to be manhandled, knees wobbly, trembling at the idea of being completely undressed by the older woman. she looks absolutely stunning in the disheveled dress you desperately want to take off.

you find her mouth again, hot and heavy, completely mixed with hers and your saliva. you think there’s nothing hotter than that until baran’s rubbing you through soaked panties, moaning as she pushes them to the side. 

“i-i-i can’t w-“

she slips a finger in. 

her slender middle finger, finding the warmth inside your pussy, impatiently needy for your reaction.

“ah!” you yelp, gripping on her shoulders. she brings you closer with a hand on your hip. 

“that’s it,” she says between gritted teeth. 

it’s slow, experimental, precisely stretching you open with one, gauging your tolerance. 

“is this okay?” she asks, putting her forehead against yours, her breath deepening as they mingle with yours. you nod your head with a huff.

baran pushes another finger in. you whine, rolling your hips into her digits, her fingers filling you. 

“let it out. good girl, good girl,” she whispers with a slight growl, clenching her thighs at the image of her fingers disappearing completely in your pussy, rolling out coated with a white string of your cum.

baran chuckles with a moan, licks a stripe of your neck, then murmurs, “you feel so good…”

“…you feel so good,” you pant in return.

she grabs your jaw, causing your eyes to flutter open, dense and glazed over. her breath shatters at the state she’s put you in, drunk and needy with arousal. she swallows your moans with her mouth, shoving her tongue inside, whimpering as you flick around the muscle.

“i’ve waited so long for this. you’re exactly as i imagined you would be,” she confesses in your mouth, can’t get enough. 

“w-what is that?” you cry in between moans, close to the edge. the older woman tightens her grip in your hips, no longer guiding them, allowing them to move at their own accord, feral and wanton to climax. 

“a good, obedient girl.”

your back arches at the title.

“a loud, responsive little thing…”

cries when she flicks a thumb against your clit. 

“…all because of me.”

baran beholds the sight of you: mouth open with a string of moans, eyes clamped shut as the aftershock leaves your body with your cum. she kisses your cheek and whispers praises you could barely make out due to the intensity of the orgasm, her entire palm open onto your back, supporting you.

you slump against her body, responding with an embrace that makes you warm.

you take baran’s face in both hands and kiss her with gratitude, passion, and a request for more.

you tug at her dress, giving her a look of need.

the older woman’s lips curl into a smirk.

“you think i’m done with you?”

baran leads you to the bedroom.

it’s surreal to be finger-fucked by the doctor, but here you are, being dragged with an impatient hand to her sanctuary for more. the place you refused to bring arash to despite protest, aware you’re not worthy enough to step foot inside. it changes tonight. 

baran couldn’t wait to land you on the bed, all over your body once more, sandwiched against the door. breathing you in like she’s in her natural habitat, wet, open-mouthed kisses, ravishing you completely into submission. 

she inhales in the crook of your neck, sighing, “you smell so good,” placing her thigh in between your legs and pushing your pelvis down against it. she pulls your tee off, grunting as your lace bra takes her away her inhibition and restraint. 

she’s starving, this woman, kissing the valley of your breasts, nipping and licking at the exposed skin. you sigh, scratching her crown, her messy bun undone, the ponytail hanging on for dear life. pulling the pad down your breast, baran licks her way down toward the tissue right next to your bud, cooing as you whimper. “you want more, huh?”

you nod your head. 

“what do you want?” she challenges, swiping a finger against your nipple, chuckling in amusement at your obvious shudder. exposed under her gaze, you whine, gripping on her neck. 

“what do you want?”

“your mouth sucking on my—mhm!”

there she goes, burying her face in your tits, bent down at an angle to give you what you need, sucking your nipple as she fondles with your other breast, rolling the bud in between fingers, staring up at you with a content smile. 

her eyes twinkle at the beautiful sight. 

baran detaches her mouth away from your nipple, a string of saliva connecting them. 

“i need more of you. get on the bed,” she orders, raking her eyes at you from head to toe. “walk backwards. slowly. don’t look away from me,” giving you an appreciative nod as you follow her exact order. 

her gaze latches onto you like a leech, calculating every movement, “stop-!”

your ass lands on the mattress, the backs of your knees sending you there. “i’m sorry–“ you start, about to stand up until baran holds a hand. she shakes her head. 

“it’s okay, stay put,” she says, drawing closer to you. 

“take off your dress, baran. i want to see you too,” you plead. 

the older woman sniggers, giving you a look as if she can’t believe you’re exchanging orders, bossing her around without consequence. you tense as she floats closer, still fully clothed, holding all the power. your head buzzes at the sight, at her command, and the aftershocks from the orgasm of her doing. 

“i sag larzan,” she coos, lips pouting in adoration. 

she’s in front of you now, tall and gorgeous, scanning your frame like a predator. dragging her tongue across her bottom lip, smirking at you, ready to pounce. she hums, neatly tucking loose hair behind your ears, tilting your chin up. 

baran unclasps the hook of her dress, the fabric opening down at her torso. she drags it slowly, keeping her eyes on you and your reaction, letting out a silent hum when your mouth opens in admiration. she kicks the discarded dress to the side, leaving only her undergarment, top completely bare. you begin to drool. 

baran’s confidence is inspiring, straightening her posture, slightly pushing out her chest towards you. 

“my eyes are up here,” she husks, her deeper tone snapping your attention back to her face, the one that makes you soak her pristine sheets. 

“i’m sorry,” you whisper, automatically peaking at her hard-rock nipples, stiff and awaiting your mouth. 

“shma npastid? are you?” 

the older woman raises a brow, taking your chin in between index and middle, pressing on the crease, causing your mouth to open. you could only nod your head. 

baran lowers her neck, mouth only a few centimeters separating you. her doe eyes, oh-so-black in dilation, glinting as she weighs her choices, checking in with you silently. you tremble under the intensity of her gaze. piercing through your soul and your bundle of nerves. she makes up her mind in the end, 

pulling spit from her mouth to yours, the action causing you to grind against the mattress, your moan covered by her mouth. pushing her spit deeper, mixing your own saliva with hers. she slowly lays you down the bed, pressing herself on top of you, her biceps propping her up. 

the older woman bats her doe eyes at you, staring at you with such care, “are you still with me on this?” making sure you’re both still on the same page. you nod, speechless. her face softens with concern, almost maternal. “i’m okay. are you okay?”

she furrows her brows, caressing your cheek with a thumb, pressing a kiss on your temple.

she hums in acknowledgment. 

“yes, yes,” she mumbles in your mouth, kissing you softly, languidly caressing your tongue with her own, getting lost in the warmth of your mouth. 

she kisses down your body, gently, as if she’s finally realizing the weight and fragility of it. it makes you weak in the knees because not only is it baran with you, the woman that somehow invaded your dreams every night, but it has been so long since you've kissed someone passionately, with a promise.  

baran pays attention to your other breast this time, flicking your nipple with a loose tongue, tweaking the other, humming when you hit a moan, making a mental note of your tics. 

she nips and sucks a trail at the plane of your torso, caressing your sides with a featherlight touch, sucking the rim of your navel. she grins as you shift at the action, sticking and flicking a tongue in your navel. she’s the first to give this to you it seemed. she grazes her teeth down to the band of your soaked panties. 

the older woman lifts her head up, humming in content. “you’re beautiful,” she sighs and you melt. 

baran grazes her nose along the fabric of your underwear, mouthing at your labia. she huffs, rolling her eyes back as she inhales your scent, tongue swiping at your clothed pussy in the process. you whine, hips bucking, pulling away as to not aggravate you as much, although knowing you’d react this way. 

she presses a kiss at the wet spot. 

“spread your legs,” she exhales, excitedly abiding her wish. 

“good girl,” she moans, licking and sucking at your inner thighs, just relishing in the heat you’re radiating. she tugs your waistband and you lift your hips, the last piece of garment fulfilling your nudity.  

“pashman,” baran exasperates and moans your name, gritting her teeth, holding back from outright devouring you. 

she wants this to last. she wants this imprinted on her mind for months to no end, erasing the ones before you, reshaping her into a better woman. she wants this to be as sacred as yours. she wants this for the both of you. 

baran presses a kiss on your folds, separating them with a swipe of her tongue, the tip landing against your clitoris. you arch your back, gripping the sheets. she flicks it a few times, brown eyes looking up at you, intertwining her fingers with yours. your legs tremble at the stimulation, unable to wrap your head around the fact that she’s in between your legs, fully focused on your pleasure. your blinding, hot, pleasure. 

she nuzzles her mouth against your clit, dragging her tongue across your hole, probing it, letting out a strangled moan as you grip her head with your thighs, sighing in pleasure. you’re so wet, cum dripping down your thighs, mixing the previous orgasm and the cum she’s slurping out of you. 

“you taste so good,” baran mumbles, mouth full of your pussy. you sob, closing in on your climax already, meeting her lips and tongue with the drive of your hips. she moans and it vibrates through your bundle of nerves, setting you off deeper. “baran…” you whimper, grabbing a few locks of hair. 

she grunts and rolls her head back, lapping up at your wet folds, grabbing your thighs and spreading them even more. she pulls away for a second to get a better view of your reactions, slamming two fingers inside your stretched hole. 

“yes?”

you cuss, holding onto her wrist and then back at the sheets, panting out her name. 

“baran, baran, baran..!”

it gets you closer, hips coming off the mattress, just rolling and rocking, the squelch of your juices resounding throughout her bedroom. “you’re close, aren’t you? you need me right now, don’t you?”

you nod your head, an inaudible plea coming out of your mouth, full of saliva and the older woman’s name. baran lets out a strangled moan and dives back into you, “come for me, please, please come in my mouth,” losing herself in your pussy, grinding her core against the mattress. it feels so good, grabbing onto her for dear life, scraping her scalp and hearing her name fall from your lips as you fall apart for her yet again. 

panting through your orgasm, the older woman flattens her tongue and cleans you up, sucking in the remaining juices she has yet to devour. she’s a neat freak, so it only makes sense she keeps your pussy clean as well. 

baran kisses your inner thighs, breathing you in, making her way up your chest and neck, peppering wet kisses and leaving words of praise. “you did so good for me,” she coos, pecking your lips before covering them with a swipe of her tongue, capturing your whimper in her mouth. 

her eyes are twinkling at you. she grins, mouth swollen and wet.

“you made me so wet, did you know that?”

you shake your head, blissed out. “i did?”

“no? you were too drunk with pleasure, weren’t you?”

after nodding your head, she giggles, shifting away, taking off her lace panties. 

“can i use your mouth?” she asks, so cute and so breathless. 

“yes, of course, please-“ you respond, getting up, but baran just pushes you back down. 

“i want to ride your face ‘til i come, koodak,” she purrs, batting her eyes at you. 

“fuck,”

she chuckles. 

“will you give it to me?”

so demanding, so bossy. 

“anything you want,” is your only response. 

she moans and kisses you, before rearranging your position, making sure you’re comfortable in the pillow, gracefully placing herself on top of you, hands grabbing the headboard, tilting her neck downwards to situate herself on your face. 

“okay down there?”

you hum in acknowledgment, grabbing the backs of her thighs, pulling her down. she hisses as her slit gets in contact with your lips, beginning it with a peck. 

the sight of her pussy makes you drool, drenched and ready for the taking. the older woman didn’t lie. she needs this as much as you do. you part her folds with your lips, burying your tongue inside, finding her clit and giving it a good suck. 

“oh fuck,” baran moans, long and drawn out, thighs quivering. you hear the creak of the headboard and know it’s about to be obnoxiously loud. your head roils in complete bliss, mouth drenched in baran’s cum, the consistency thick and intoxicating. “like that?”

baran hums, the dirty talk causing her hips to jerk, sudden and then steady, finding herself a rhythm. she pulls back, sets both palms against the mattress, bearing her weight completely at an angle. she grins when you come up for air, overcome with the urge to give her what she needs. 

it’s electric, giving her what she needs, the older woman’s face constricted in pleasure, sweat building on her forehead, brown hair frizzled out by her need to please as well. baran has a few moles littered across her body, her chest clear of them, bouncing and jiggling at her thrusts against your mouth. 

you slither a hand through her torso, grabbing a tit. she pushed her core harder against your mouth, convulsing at the action, arching her head back as you pinch her nipple and suck on her clit at the same time, examining her every move. she grabs your hand and places it back on her thighs, replacing it with her own, moaning your name as she stares deep into your eyes. 

you moan, the vibration causing her hips to stutter, toppling over back against the headboard, unable to prop herself in the position she was in, about to spill. baran mumbles a few words in farsi, inaudible, only for her own pleasure, placing one hand against your crown, sweat dripping down her forehead. 

you groan, nudging your nose against her clit before pulling it in your mouth, giving it a hard suck, the movement setting her over the edge. 

you keep lapping at her pussy, head constricted in between baran’s trembling thighs, a keen cry releasing from the coiling tension in her abdomen. caressing her skin into the aftermath of her orgasm, your mouth latching onto her until she lets go. 

it takes baran a minute to ride it out, her breathing beginning to even out, halting her movements completely, unlatching herself from your mouth. you swipe the cum off your face with your tongue, a loud hitch of inhale coming from the older woman, whose eyes were on you the entire time. you grin, sheepish, “can’t help it,” honest with a hoarse voice. 

“i’m sure,” she responds sarcastically, situating herself in between your thighs, nuzzling her face in your neck. “are you tired, are you okay?”

you tilt your head to the side so you can see her face. you give her an incredulous look, teasing. 

“my, my. do you want to go again? and here i thought i couldn’t have enough,” 

she grins, eyes wide and adoring. she pinches your cheek. “that’s why i’m offering, because i know you want more!”

“look at you! who doesn’t!” you kiss her cheek. baran tilts her head away and flutters her eyes, cheekbones pointed out of skittishness. she buries her face in your neck again, finding solitude there. 

“okay, but we need a water break,” she settles, mumbling in your neck. 

“i’m sorry, what was that? i couldn’t hear you,” you rib, placing a hand on the back of her head. your laughter fades into a moan as baran licks your earlobe. “you were saying?”

“you’re insufferable,” you settle, watching her face appear in front of you. she’s glowing, mouth swollen by your deeds, baby hairs moist in perspiration. she looks so comfortable, so at home in your arms.