she’s my priestess, i’m your priest

scanning the area for any other signs of life, you cautiously approach the tree from which the girl hangs by her ankle, rope taut.

you’re half-hoping she’s already dead - it’s better than whatever the rattlers would have in store for her. but when you’re close enough to reach out and feel for a pulse, her weak heartbeat thumps against your index and middle finger.

“shit,” you hiss, cursing yourself for wanting to help. whoever this girl is, she’s either not from around here or just plain stupid. and maybe you’re just as stupid for cutting her down.

when her body hits the gravel, the girl gasps awake, groaning in pain as her hands fly to her hip. her fingers emerge red from the blood-soaked cotton of her tank top.

you watch with curiosity, knuckles going pale as you grip your pocket knife tight.

the brunette coughs dryly, her body weak. she pushes herself up onto all fours and finally turns her head to look at you, green eyes wide with confusion and surprise.

“could’ve gotten yourself killed,” you say, just loud enough for her to hear. “or worse. rattlers all over this part of town.”

“rattlers,” the girl croaks, eyes flitting to the knife in your hand. “the fuck’s a rattler?”

you arch a brow. “seriously?”

as the girl stumbles to her feet, she grunts again in pain and presses her palm against her hip. she ignores you, instead scanning the area for something. when she finds it, she limps over to an overgrown patch of grass and pulls a backpack from the ground.

“you’re hurt,” you say as the brunette shrugs on her backpack. her eyes search the gravel for something else - a pocket knife, you notice, the silver glinting in the afternoon light. she picks that up too, doesn’t flip it closed. her green eyes flicker over to you.

“i’m looking for someone,” she tells you, voice gravelly. “abby’s her name.”

“if she’s as careless as you, the rattlers already have her.”

“thought i made it clear i don’t know what the fuck a rattler is.”

you snort. “keep making stupid choices and you’ll find out.”

the girl sets her jaw, expression stone-cold. you glower back at her, too exhausted from the hours of walking you’ve done today to be afraid of her. she’s clearly out of her depth here, anyway.

“slavers,” you say, folding up your knife and stuffing it into your pocket. “they set those traps. they catch you, you’re fucked. so… you’re welcome.”

after a beat, you turn on your heel and start walking away. you’ve found enough supplies to keep you going for a while, and this block’s too hot. you’re ready to call it a day and head home.

when you’re still within earshot of the brunette, you pause, turning your head. “come with me and i’ll patch you up, get you some food, maybe help you find this… abby.”

you shoot a glance at the girl, whose eyebrows are knitted together. the blood on her face has gone dark, drying to a crust on her forehead.

“or stay here. choice is yours.”

when you start walking again, it’s not long before you hear a second set of footsteps approaching behind you. reaching into the side pocket of your backpack, you pull out a metal canister of water and offer it to the girl. she takes it wordlessly, gulping down mouthfuls of water as you trudge through the barren neighborhood.

“god dammit,” ellie cries, knuckles going white as she grips the edge of her seat, alcohol stinging the open wound on her side. you mutter a quiet sorry, wiping smears of blood from her skin until only her wound remains angry and red.

“good news is you don’t need stitches,” you tell her, reaching for your first-aid kit. you wrap her wound with bandages and hand her a clean shirt, her blood-soaked tank discarded on the floor. she pulls on the t-shirt with cautious movements, careful not to disturb her freshly-wrapped wound. you dip your hands into a bucket of water to wash the blood off.

the boat rocks calmly with the rhythm of the waves, the gentle whoosh of the ocean outside a soothing white noise. ellie’s quiet, still catching her breath. you kick off your boots, stretching your legs out. god only knows how many miles you’ve walked today.

“why are you helping me?”

ellie’s question breaks the silence, her voice still hoarse. when you spare a glance her way, you find her already looking at you, eyes narrowed just so.

you shrug. “honestly? i felt sorry for you.”

ellie laughs humorlessly. “great, well… thanks, i guess.”

“you’re really not from around here?”

she shakes her head, eyes downcast. she taps her foot against the rug on the floor.

“i came here to find someone.”

“abby,” you say, nodding. “who’s she?”

a family member? a girlfriend, maybe? you’re not sure, but the still-human part of you hopes it’s not the latter. ellie’s pretty - freckled cheeks and toned arms, careful lines of ink decorating her skin, her hair somehow falling perfectly into her eyes. god, it’s been a while since you’ve looked at someone like this. it almost feels wrong. almost.

“long story.” ellie runs a hand through her hair, glances back over at you. “i have some unfinished business with her.”

not a girlfriend or a family member, you conclude, if the hatred in ellie’s eyes is any indication. you nod, not wanting to pry further.

“i don’t know anyone who goes by abby,” you confess, “but i can help you find her. or at least… i can tell you how to not get caught by the rattlers again.”

“yeah,” ellie says. when she’s quiet for another few moments, you stand up and grab the bucket at your feet, the water within it pink with ellie’s blood. you walk out onto the boat deck and toss the water over the edge, watching it splash into the sea. the weather has turned moody again, gray clouds rolling in with the coastal wind.

you fix a meal of canned baked beans and half-stale crackers, trying not to stare too long as ellie scarfs down the food like she hasn’t eaten in weeks. and, well, maybe she hasn’t. she’s quite thin, you had noticed, despite the lean muscles that define her frame.

the sun has already dipped below the horizon by the time you’re finished with dinner. your bed, at the back of the boat, is already calling your name - your legs are sore and tired from a long day of walking. call it naivety, but you’re not too nervous about sleeping near ellie. despite that threatening gaze when she’d talked about abby, she seems relatively harmless. or maybe you’re just being reckless, wooed by her good looks and mysterious charm. it’s embarrassing how drawn to her you are - so much so that you offer her a spot on your bed for the night.

“i can’t do that,” she responds, one hand rubbing the back of her neck.

“it’s that or risk dying from exposure outside,” you deadpan. she almost smiles, exhaling quickly in something akin to a laugh.

“you pulled my leg.”

so you end up in bed together, stripped down to your underwear in the long-unwashed sheets. you hadn’t asked ellie to undress, but she’d peeled her bloodstained jeans off anyway, settling into the mattress beside you. over the sound of the waves crashing against the shore outside, you hear her breathing quietly. you stare up at the ceiling, waiting for sleep.

“thank you,” ellie says suddenly. you turn to look at her in the dark, her face finally clean of blood and sweat. she doesn’t look at you, eyes trained on the ceiling.

“it’s nothing.” you shrug a shoulder.

except that it’s not nothing - you haven’t had company in months. you’ve been on your own for so long you’d almost forgotten what it’s like to share a space with someone else, to eat together and share a mattress with someone, completely at their mercy should they have bad intentions. it’s a kind of trust you’re not accustomed to doling out to strangers.

but something about doing this for ellie feels right.

or maybe you’re just an idiot. who’s to say?

as the boat cabin darkens with night, you turn over onto your side, facing ellie. she finally shifts her gaze to you, pupils wide in the dark.

“you’re not gonna kill me in my sleep, are you?”

the question seems to take ellie by surprise, because her eyebrows shoot up her forehead.

“after you saved my skin?” she scoffs. “god, no.”

“good,” you murmur, chewing on the inside of your cheek. before you can reconsider, you blurt, “but i guess a pretty girl killing me is a fine way to go.”

ellie’s silent just long enough for you to mentally scold yourself for the tasteless comment. you nearly chew a hole into your cheek until ellie’s voice cuts through the quiet. “you like girls?”

there’s a sudden lump in your throat. you nod, hesitant. “yeah. i do.”

the brunette turns onto her side, wincing just slightly at the pressure the movement places on her wound. you open your mouth to tell her to be careful when she reaches out to cup your cheek, her fingertips rough against your skin.

“this is stupid,” she murmurs, her thumb stroking over your cheekbone. “tell me to stop.”

your heart thumps wildly in your chest, pounding against your ribcage. your skin burns where ellie’s touching you.

“i won’t,” you whisper, and that’s all you can say before she’s kissing you.

it’s been ages since anyone’s touched you, let alone kissed you - that must be why your stomach turns with arousal almost instantly, a fire stoking between your legs. ellie tastes like salt, her tongue prodding against your lips until you open your mouth to allow her in. her hand moves to the back of your neck to hold you in place as she kisses you, lips wet and smooth against yours. you sigh into the kiss, somehow unafraid to melt under her touch.

you’re dizzy with want as ellie trails kisses down your neck, her fingers sliding under the elastic band of your sports bra. when you pull back to remove it, exposing your chest for her to see in the dark, she lets out a heavy sigh before her palms reach out to cup each of your tits and squeeze. the calloused pads of her thumbs brush over your taut nipples and you gasp, tangling a hand in ellie’s hair to steady yourself.

you’re not sure how exactly you end up naked in her lap, her fingers sinking into your soaked cunt as she sucks a bruise into the sensitive skin of your throat. you moan, cunt tensing around her fingers, and ellie pulls back to watch you with half-lidded eyes as her hand works between your legs.

“fuck, that’s so good,” you croon, grinding down against ellie’s hand. she curls her fingers inside you, prodding at your g-spot until you’re whining her name, already feeling your orgasm approaching far too fast.

ellie groans at the wet sounds of her fingers buried in your pussy, your arousal leaking down her hand. every thrust of her fingers produces a lewd squelch, and if you weren’t so fucked out, you might’ve found it in yourself to be embarrassed. instead, you drop your head to ellie’s shoulder and mewl, hips rocking weakly as she finger-fucks you so deep you see stars.

“i’m c-close,” you whisper, squeezing your eyes shut. ellie wraps her free arm around your waist to hold you steady, fingers never slowing as they plow into you from below.

“i got you,” ellie murmurs in response, her palm pressing against your clit. you let out a wrecked moan and ellie smiles at you in the dark, a slight curve of her lips that makes your stomach flutter.

you come with a gasp, the air stolen from your lungs by the sensation of ellie’s fingers rubbing deliciously against your g-spot, her palm warm and firm against your puffy clit. seeking comfort, you lean your forehead against ellie’s, body shaking with every tremor of pleasure she manages to pull out of you. you’re not sure if it’s just the dark boat cabin or the force of your orgasm that has your vision going black, but when you finally emerge from the thick haze of your orgasm, ellie’s fingers have left your cunt empty, her hand rubbing soothing circles over your lower back.

“good?” she prompts, nose nudging against yours. your heart stutters at the way she asks - like she’s looking for reassurance. you nod.

“really good.”

the two of you tumble around in bed for half the night, careful not to reopen the patched-up wound on ellie’s side. you mouth at her pussy and dip your fingers into the slick heat of her arousal, let her climb on top of you and slot yourselves together so your soaked cunts can find friction against one another. after you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve orgasmed, you fall into a dreamless slumber, curled up against ellie’s side in the tiny cabin bed.

when you wake up to find the bed empty and cold beside you, part of you isn’t surprised. you stretch out on the mattress, flashes of the night before playing out in your mind - the heat of ellie’s breath, the warmth of her touch, the welcome sight of her smile.

you never end up seeing her again.

Abby stays just a step behind you, close enough for you to feel the heat of her presence, but far enough to still remain untouchable. A profound silence hangs heavily between you, stretching out like an endless abyss. 

That silence isn’t accidental—it’s deliberate. A new part of your arrangement that was decided for you, just like everything else in your life. 

But Abby hasn’t spoken to you in two weeks, not since that night. 

The night where you had somehow managed to thwart a kidnapping attempt. But it was also the night where she gathered you up in her arms and pressed you up against your chamber door, kissing you like she couldn’t stand the thought of ever losing you. 

Only for her to turn around and act like it never even happened. 

You couldn’t decide which was worse: knowing that she wanted you—craved you—or that she would rather punish you both than act on those feelings again. 

That is what this felt like. A punishment, because, regardless of what happened, she was always there. 

Waiting outside your chamber door every morning with dark circles under her eyes growing more sunken with each passing day. Trailing beside you in the palace’s lush rose gardens, her eyes sharp and focused as she surveyed the area for any signs of imminent danger.

And now, as she escorts you to the palace’s library, she’s silent and stoic as she follows you through the long, winding corridors. 

Abby had foregone her armor for something far more practical: a pair of dark, fitted riding pants, leather boots and a crisp white linen tunic that she wore tucked beneath a navy doublet. 

A golden emblem of a wolf is stitched over her breast pocket, a symbol of her allegiance to King Isaac. Her dark blonde locks are pulled back in her signature braid, but it’s looser from the day's wear. Her sword rests in its sheath against her hip, one of her hands perched atop the hilt—showing off that she is still a force to be reckoned with, if the occasion were to arise. 

And yet, she’s softer like this. Displaying a rugged kind of beauty that you’ve always admired since the moment you first laid eyes on her. Ser Abigail Anderson was known widely throughout the ten kingdoms as the Iron Wolf, simultaneously revered and feared.  

She knelt before the king and vowed on her own life to keep you safe from harm, and that was all it took for you to see beneath that hard, constructed exterior. To see the kind, gentle woman that lay hidden beneath, who was still frustratingly out of your reach. 

But despite the fortress she’s built between you, there’s no denying that something had shifted between you that night. Between your roaming hands and eager lips, she wasn’t just your hired protector anymore. 

And her refusal to acknowledge it hurt worse than you could have ever imagined. Every stolen glance felt hollow and cold, if she even dared to look your way at all. Her warm presence that had drawn you in like a moth to a flame was replaced with a rigid disposition. 

But it was the softer moments, the ones where you could truly see past that stone cold exterior that hurt the most. The novels she continued to leave on your bedside table each week, which were hand selected for you with the utmost attention and care. While she was out in the training yard, you realized she was still using the silk handkerchief you had given her that very first day to blot the sweat from her brow the same way that you had. 

It was beyond maddening, and none of it made any sense. Her silence and cold demeanor felt like rejection, but her constant presence and thoughtful actions spoke of something else entirely: a deep affection she was keeping hidden beneath that iron breastplate. It only left you reeling with each passing day. 

But as days turned into weeks, those feelings of hurt and confusion slowly morphed into a burning resentment that settled deep within your chest. It was heightened with Abby’s incessant need to have you in her direct line of sight at all times.

You can feel the silence between you start to swell, growing heavier with each step you take. It's a suffocating and unrelenting sort of feeling, pressing down on you until you can almost feel your lungs start to burn. 

You stop abruptly, and her steps immediately falter behind you. You can feel her release an unsteady breath, the sound tickling the back of your neck and sending shivers down your spine. You flick a quick but fleeting glance over your shoulder and the way she’s looking at you makes your stomach flip. 

But she remains still, silent and the last of your patience evaporates. 

“I think I can manage the rest of the way without the need of an escort,” you say as you whirl around to face her.

You can see the muscles in her jaw work as she looks at you, her brows pinching together in a scowl. “I don’t think that’s a good idea—” she starts.

“Oh, so you can speak?” you interject with a sharp laugh. “Could have fooled me.”

Abby sighs deeply and takes a step toward you, forcing you two paces back in an effort to keep your distance. And she has the audacity to look hurt. 

“Please don’t do this,” she hisses, glancing over her shoulder. “Not here.” 

You have to hold back another bewildered laugh. “Why? Are you afraid someone might overhear that the fearless Ser Abigail would choose to suffer in silence rather than chase what she wants? Where is the honor in that?” 

She angrily runs a hand down her face. “It’s better this way,” she says, not fully meeting your eyes. “For both of us.”

Her words slice through you like a dagger, but the way she’s refusing to look at you only twists the blade in deeper. “Better for us?” you question. “Or better for you?”

The question hangs in the air between you, charged and full of indignation.

Her mouth twists, but her eyes don’t leave the ground. “There is no us. I’m sworn to protect you. It cannot be anything more than that.”

“You’re a coward.” 

Her head immediately snaps up, her eyes narrowing as they bear into yours.  “What happened that night was a mistake, I never should have crossed that line with you. It will not happen again.” 

Her words are the finishing blow to your already crumbling disposition. “Right,” you whisper, your throat tightening and your eyes stinging. “I really wish you would have figured that out before you convinced me otherwise.”

You start to turn and she grabs your wrist. 

“Don’t you dare touch me,” you choke out, yanking your wrist free and taking off down the hall. 

Behind you, Abby curses sharply but regains her composure enough to chase after you. Her footsteps are loud and heavy against the polished stone, rivaling the way your heart pounds in your ears. She’s already gaining on you. You quickly hike up the many layers of your gown in your fists and force your legs to move faster as you tear down the empty corridor. 

You ignore each call of your name, not bothering to think where you’re headed, only that you need to get as far away from her as possible. A passage leading to a winding staircase stretches before you and you quickly duck inside, taking the stairs down two at a time. 

You just barely reach the landing when a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist and lift you off the ground, whisking you out of the open stairwell and down a dark, empty corridor.

“Put. Me. Down,” you seethe, trying and failing to wiggle out of her tight embrace.

“Calm down and I will,” she chides, her lips grazing the shell of your ear. 

A shiver of delight races down your spine and you go practically boneless in her embrace, the last of your defiance disappearing with it. 

“Fine,” you whisper defeatedly. 

Abby loosens the iron grip she has on your waist and slowly lowers you to your feet. She doesn’t give you another opportunity to run as she backs you into the cold wall, bracing her palms on either side of you, caging you in. 

She’s so close that you can feel her warm breath fan across your mouth with every slow exhale—a ghost of a kiss—and your lips part.

It’s hard to make out her expression in the dark of the hall, but as your eyes slowly start to adjust you notice the deep rosy flush sweeping across her cheeks…and the way her eyes have unmistakenly fallen to your parted lips. 

“What are we doing here, Abby?” you prod. 

What am I to you? 

Abby releases another deep sigh, her eyes slipping shut as she bows her head. “I don’t know.” 

“Do you regret it?” you whisper. 

“No. I—” She grits her teeth, leaning her forehead against yours. “I’m trying to do my job, to keep you safe. I cannot allow my own feelings to complicate things more than they already have.”

“Why do you see them as a complication?” 

“Because I don’t think I would survive if I had to lose another person that I love.” 

The words are spoken softly, a confession that she never intended to reveal to you. Abby meets your gaze, releasing her hold to take a step back, fear and uncertainty in her eyes. 

You reach for her, cupping her face in between your palms. “But you won’t lose me.” 

She quickly shakes her head, removing your hands from her face to wrap around your wrists. Not to restrain you, but to ground herself. “You have people after you. You cannot promise me something like that,” she counters, unable to keep her voice from shaking. 

“You have sworn your life to protect me, Abigail. Why won’t you let me do the same?” 

Abby just stares at you for a moment, unblinking and tense as a silent battle wages behind her eyes. Then she stalks forward, the last of her restraint shattering as she closes the distance between you and crashes her lips against yours. 

She claims your mouth with the kind of desperation that leaves you feeling lightheaded, and you surge into her, kissing her back with just as much fervor. Her warm hands encircle your waist, splaying across the dip in your spine to pull you flush against her chest. Abby eagerly swallows your small gasp, releasing a strangled noise of her own when your fingers thread themselves into her braid to give an experimental tug.

The way she grounds out your name has liquid heat pooling in your middle, her lips leaving a trail of wet kisses over the curve of your jaw…down your throat, until she reaches the crook of your neck. Her teeth skim over the sensitive flesh there, earning her another breathy whine. 

“Abby,” you breathe, your fingers digging into the taut muscles of her shoulders. “Touch me, please.” 

Her fingers grip the layers of fabric keeping you apart, hiking up your gown as she hitches your thigh around her hip. The hilt of her sword digs into the soft flesh there, but you hardly mind when you feel her hand dip between your legs. 

Abby’s hand cups your mound of curls in her warm palm, her calloused fingers gliding through your slick center with ease. You grip tightly onto her shoulder with one hand, the other fisting into the soft fabric of your gown. Your hips jolt forward unexpectedly as she continues her descent, her fingers ghosting over that sensitive bundle of nerves—a place only you have touched. 

You only explored yourself in the seclusion of your bed chambers, where you’d bury your hand between your thighs and sink your teeth into the pillows to keep your whines from reaching the beautiful knight standing guard on the other side of your door. 

“Oh God,” you gasp softly, lashes fluttering when she brushes her fingers over that aching spot again. “That’s—Right there.” 

The corner of her mouth crooks up into a satisfied grin, but when her touch suddenly falls away you nearly whimper from the loss of contact. Abby hushes you with a firm press of her mouth before she drops down to kneel before you. 

“What are you—” you rasp, but the heated look she sends you has the words dying on your tongue. 

She quirks her brow up in a silent question, her fingers trailing over the back of your hand where you’re still clutching tightly onto the rumpled fabric of your gown. A pulse of white hot desire thrums through you, but instead of answering, you lift the fabric higher. 

Abby eagerly ducks beneath the layers of your dress skirt, her lips pressing a tender kiss to the skin just above your knee before she gently guides your leg up to rest over her shoulder. Her movements are slow but deliberate, each kiss and drag of her fingers are enough to have you trembling before she even gets her mouth on you. 

And when she does? You melt. 

She goes slow, taking her time to explore the most sensitive parts of you with her tongue, almost as if she's trying to make you feel all the things she’s too afraid to admit aloud. 

I want you, I need you, I’ll love you till my dying breath. 

Abby releases a muffled groan against your core when you cradle the back of her head, the vibrations sending another jolt of arousal through you. She presses the flat of her tongue harder against your sensitive bud and slowly guides a finger inside you. 

Abby’s hand stills once she’s slipped the entire digit inside, and while you appreciate her chivalry, that is not what you need right now. 

She groans when you start to grind into her palm, your breasts straining against your bodice with each shuddering breath. “Please,” you plead. “I need more.” 

And more is what she gives you. 

Abby slips another finger into your dripping heat and your body welcomes it, your eyes nearly rolling back from the sheer sense of relief you feel when she buries herself to the hilt inside you. Her tongue circles back over your throbbing center, the sound of each wet thrust echoing down the empty corridor. 

“God, that feels…” you trail off with a gasp, your knees starting to shake. “You feel…” But any semblance of thought leaves your mind when she curls her fingers up and rubs against a spot that has you completely coming apart at the seams. 

Abby eagerly works you through each shuddering wave, finally relenting with one final flick of her tongue that has your hips jerking back. You can feel the small puff of breath when she chuckles, pressing a soft kiss to the plush skin of your inner thigh before she guides you to stand on both feet again. 

When she emerges from under your gown to rise to her feet, her hair is a complete mess and you can’t help but giggle at the sight. The corner of her mouth quirks up in a grin as she snakes an arm around your waist and pulls you flush against her chest. Her other hand reaches up to cradle your jaw, the pad of her thumb brushing over your lower lip before she leans back in. Her lips are warm and wet when they meet yours, the taste of you and her overwhelming your senses. 

“You don’t know how long I’ve dreamt of doing that,” Abby confesses, pressing another urgent kiss to your swollen lips. “How many nights I had to stand outside your chambers, hearing you touch yourself.” Another kiss. “The sheer willpower it took to keep myself from barging in there and claiming you with my mouth.” 

In one fluid motion, you have her pinned to the wall, allowing your lips to eagerly mouth over her bared throat while your fingers fumble to loosen the ties of her trousers. 

“You should have,” you mumble against her jaw, “God I wanted you to.” 

Abby is panting, soft ragged breaths that have her breasts surging against your own as your hand slips down past her waistband to untuck the soft fabric of her tunic.

“What else did you dream about?” you murmur, grazing your teeth along her jaw before nipping gently on her earlobe. “Please tell me.” 

The low moan that she tries to stifle only encourages your wandering hands. They slide up and under her tunic, over the warm, contoured planes of her stomach. You feel a burst of confidence when she shudders beneath your gentle touches, her back arching into your palm when you cup one of her breasts. 

One of her hands that had previously been occupied with gripping the fabric bunched at your waist captures your other wrist before it can finish its ascent. You start to pull away to look at her then, worried you had done something wrong. But Abby doesn’t let you stray very far, reeling you back in until your chests are flush. 

Her cerulean eyes are nearly black with a hunger you’ve never seen before—her full lips and chin still slick with a mixture of you and her saliva. Her hair is mussed and wild and she looks downright feral, sending another rush of pulsing heat between your thighs. 

Abby’s touch is firm but still gentle as she guides your hand up to her mouth, slipping two of your fingers past her lips and swirling her tongue around them. You release a soft whine when she begins to sucks on them, and you can feel her hum of approval against them. 

After a long, erotic moment, she finally releases your slick fingers with a soft pop, maintaining eye contact as she coaxes them back down and past the waistband of her trousers. 

“It was this,” she whispers finally before capturing your lips in another desperate kiss. “I dreamt of you doing this.” 

She thrusts her hips into your palm, and you’re met with a mound of soft curls and wet heat. You moan into her mouth as you slide your fingers lower, gathering more of the slick that has pooled at her entrance and circling it back up and over her sensitive bud. 

“I thought of you every night,” you confess, the sound of her stifled moans spurring you on. “How you would feel…what you would sound like and, God,” you sigh, “how you would taste.” 

It was true, you had thought about her far too much. Of what it would feel like to kiss her…hold her…spread her out on your silk sheets and taste every inch of her. You were plagued with these thoughts and fantasies for months, and now that one of them had come to fruition, you were going to savor it. 

Abby releases a string of curses under her breath, tilting her head back to rest against the stone wall. You can’t help but admire the way her eyes screw shut in pleasure, and her lips part with each drag of your fingers. But your gaze eventually drifts lower to watch the rise and fall of her chest and back down to where your hand is still inside her trousers. 

The sight alone has you squirming against her, unintentionally grinding your hips into hers in desperate need of some friction. The action pulls a strangled groan from her throat, as it forces your fingers to press harder against her swollen bud. 

“That’s…fuck—” she chokes out, her hips beginning to buck up frantically against your palm. You meet each of her thrusts in earnest, your fingers rubbing tighter circles against her until you feel her completely lose control. 

You stop once you feel her legs start to tremble, cupping her in your palm as her body sags back against the wall. Abby releases a soft, satiated sigh and leans forward to rest her forehead on your shoulder. 

You both stay like that for a long moment, no words, just holding her close as her breathing returns to a normal pace. But it’s not long before you feel her hands beginning to grab fistfuls of your gown, dragging the soft fabric back up to expose your bare thighs. With one gentle nudge, she spreads your legs apart with her knee, sliding it home right between your thighs. 

An offering. 

“Only if you want it,” she murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder. The ache between your thighs reignites with a sudden vengeance, and your frantic nod urges her to press her knee up against your aching center. “Take what you need.” 

You release a breathy gasp, gripping onto her shoulder with your other hand and rocking your hips down onto her thigh. Every one of your nerves feels like a live wire, and each frantic grind of your hips is tipping you dangerously closer to the edge. 

“There you go,” she murmurs, her teeth lightly nipping at your exposed collarbone. “You’re doing so well for me, love.” 

Her soft praise and the feel of her thigh flexing against your dripping core unravels you completely and you sink your teeth into your lower lip in an attempt to stifle your moans from spilling freely down the corridor. 

She holds you close as your body writhes against her, slowly dragging her fingers up and down the length of your spine. Once the euphoric haze begins to clear, you come to the delightful realization that your hand is still buried inside her trousers. 

You release a soft hum, pulling back far enough to hold her gaze as your fingers descend one last time. Abby’s hips twitch involuntarily as you lightly brush your fingertips over her bundle of nerves, and she bites back a moan when they dip lower to gather more of the slick that’s pooled at her entrance. 

Your dutiful knight has been reduced to a panting mess once you slip your hand back out of her trousers, holding up your fingers to admire the mess she left behind. 

“Come here,” she says, pulling that familiar handkerchief from her breastpocket and reaching for your wrist. “Let me.” 

But you stop her with a subtle shake of your head, pushing away the offered handkerchief and slipping your fingers inside of your mouth to greedily suck each digit clean. Abby’s eyes darken at the sight, her jaw muscles flexing and you let out a small giggle. 

“You will be the death of me,” she mutters fondly, pulling you in close to bury her face in your bosom. 

You release another soft laugh and thread your fingers through the loose hair at the nape of her neck. “Well, at least it’d be an honorable way to go,” you tease and Abby nips the top of your breast in return. 

“Well, darling, I’m nothing if not honorable.” 

𝖙𝖆𝖌𝖌𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖘𝖔𝖒𝖊 𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖉 𝖒𝖔𝖔𝖙𝖘: @justanotherabbystan @lobotomymutt @somebitchprobably @mxmsuki

But when admissions of love spill relentlessly from your lips, Ellie can’t help but feel like the girl that she was a few years ago–the one that could barely string together an intelligent sentence while in your presence. 

Case in point–you wanted to get drunk in a shitty dive bar, or spend the night dancing at a club? Ellie was there. 

And Ellie was there, as in currently–as in she had even changed from a hoodie, to a flannel when you had declared that you needed a night away from your laptop and the reminders of the existence of deadlines. 

You were missing her at your side though, as you had ventured into the bar bathroom alone–something that was out of the ordinary for you. Normally your girlfriend always went with you–buddy system, safety in numbers and all that–and also so that you could chat away with her when the lines were too long. You weren’t even entirely sure why you had come to the bathroom alone this time… something about the bar being crowded tonight and you didn’t want to risk your spot getting taken, or something. Ellie was holding it down for you. 

Still, as you stumbled out of the stall and toward the sinks and mirrors, you felt a sharp pang of longing as your gaze landed on a small group of girls–laughing in an unfiltered manner and taking selfies in the corner. You knew that Ellie was only several feet away, and you would quite literally be seeing her again in a matter of seconds. It’s not like the two of you had to be attached at the hip, but the very fact of the matter was plain and simple–a drunken bathroom trip was no fun without your girlfriend. 

As you washed your hands, you met your own gaze in the bathroom mirror. The world around you felt as though it were on a three second delay, and you could hear the music booming from beyond the bathroom. 

There was no tiny bar filled with older men and country music tonight–you had gone just a bit out of town to find a place that better suited your age demographic. It was louder, darker, more crowded. 

You blinked at your reflection, eyes glassy from the drinks that you had so far consumed throughout the night. Your thoughts shifted to Ellie, and an automatic smile tugged on your lips. You knew that she was sitting alone, waiting for you, so you hastily dried your hands. 

Feeling just a bit uncoordinated and weighted, you pushed through the bathroom door with your elbow, and were greeted by the loud atmosphere washing back over you at once. Whatever upbeat song was playing just served as fuzzy background noise as you focused on making your way through the crowd to return to Ellie. You were eager for her–drunk and wanting to tug gently at her freckled cheeks, to watch them tint pink under your touch.  

Despite not catching sight of her just yet, your smile remained at the mere thought of her. When your gaze did find her across the bar, your heart thumped with affection. 

Ellie was on the other side of the bar and sitting at the small table that the two of you had previously claimed upon arrival–exactly where you had left her. She was sipping a beer, her flannel sleeves rolled up just so, her tattoo on display. She was squinting a little due to the dim lighting, and she was… 

Talking to someone? 

You paused your steps, craning your neck slightly as a small group of people were standing in the way, nearly blocking your path and your ability to see. The corners of your lips twitched, your brain seemingly unable to decide whether you should smile or frown. 

There was a girl lingering near Ellie, leaning casually against the table–your table–as she spoke. You couldn’t hear anything, obviously, due to the loud sounds around you. You could, however, see the way in which the unfamiliar girl cocked her head to the side when she spoke to your girlfriend. You could see her adjusting her top, fluffing her hair, and smiling as Ellie had responded to whatever she had said. 

You gave a slight shake of your head, almost feeling tempted to pull out your phone and record the moment to save it as evidence… because Ellie was oblivious. She never seemed to grasp when she was being flirted with–could hardly comprehend it even when it was blatantly spelled out for her. The two of you had danced around each other for so long before finally getting together, due to the fact that you had been too shy to make a move, but Ellie had clearly been determined not to ruin the friendship. You finally had to get the guts to make the move, which had obviously turned out for the best. 

Admittedly, you were a little amused watching the scene unfold from where you stood. You felt slightly bad for your girlfriend, knowing that she was probably feeling awkward… but still. 

The other girl–the stranger–shifted her standing position so that she could be a bit closer to where Ellie was sitting, giving up good posture in favor of leaning closer toward Ellie. 

Amusement still lingering, you expected to see Ellie shift awkwardly in the wooden chair, or to start scanning the bar in an attempt to look for you. 

But she didn’t. 

A crooked smile appeared on Ellie’s lips. She leaned back comfortably in her chair, knees spreading as she took a slow sip of her beer, her gaze locked with the other girl’s. 

Your smile faded. With your stomach suddenly giving a weird lurch, you stood still and analyzed… whatever that was. 

It’s just that Ellie looked comfortable, which was out of the ordinary for her in an environment like this. She didn’t really love attention from strangers, but Ellie tilted her head to mirror the other girl, the two of them suddenly laughing. 

Right. Okay. 

You swallowed hard, unable to determine if you felt a little too drunk now, or too sober. Because the girl only seemed to be standing closer and closer, and Ellie’s knees continued to spread to make more room for the girl. That girl didn’t need that much standing room–not that close to your girlfriend, at least. 

The song playing within the bar changed, causing an energy burst throughout a nearby group of girls. One of them accidentally bumped into you and apologized, but you didn’t respond–didn’t even attempt to mutter anything in return, because why was Ellie holding such intense eye contact with that girl, even as she continued to take slow sips of her drink? 

You felt uncomfortable watching. Maybe it was just because you had too much to drink. Or maybe it was because you’ve never seen Ellie so at ease while speaking to a stranger before. Maybe it was because the girl invading your girlfriend’s space was pretty–like… belonging in a Miami club instead of a random, shitty Wyoming bar. Her clothes fit like a glove, and her hair wasn’t even frizzy despite the warmth inside of the bar. 

You were secure within your relationship. It was solid. But something within you rapidly began to ache as Ellie made no effort to put any distance between herself and the girl, even as she reached out to adjust the collar of Ellie’s flannel. 

Ellie could be oblivious about flirting advances, but she wasn’t stupid. 

You hesitated, morbidly curious to continue to watch the interaction unfold, despite the fact that your palms were starting to sweat. 

The unfamiliar girl reached out an apparently very confident hand, and you stretched your neck just in time to see her trace her fingers along Ellie’s tattooed forearm. Ellie did not lean away from the touch. Instead–crooked smile still in place–she lifted her other arm, casually wrapping it around the girl’s waist and tugging her just the slightest bit closer. 

You could’ve been sick on the spot. 

You had been gone for maybe five minutes. Had you been forgotten that quickly? Or did Ellie just simply not fucking care? 

Head dizzy with alcohol, disgust, and upset… you stared at the sight of the two girls chatting and laughing as if they had even actually known each other–until your eyes started to go blurry. Ellie never even glanced in your direction, didn’t notice that you had returned from the bathroom and were standing just several feet away. If she caught you in her peripheral, she didn’t seem to care. Her green eyes remained locked on the girl standing directly in front of her, while your eyes started to sting.  

══════════════

Ellie slept peacefully, without any guilt. Her arm was slung around you, her chest pressed against your back. 

You, on the other hand, were having a fitful sleep. Your mind was filled with images of Ellie’s smile–your girlfriend’s smile–directed toward another. You saw flashes of her hands that you absolutely adored–and admittedly worshipped–reaching for some random girl’s waist. 

You were barely conscious, but you had a lump in your throat. Too upset to stay asleep, you started to stir. 

The first thing that you actually registered was Ellie’s nose against your shoulder, and her arm around you. Just like it had been around that girl. Still in that hazy space of existence between sleep and wakefulness, your elbow and leg both shoved backward. 

“The fuck?” Ellie rasped, jolting out of her peaceful slumber due to the sudden jab. 

You didn’t acknowledge her, and instead curled into yourself. 

“Why the fuck did you– Hey?” Ellie managed, her voice low and slightly hoarse with exhaustion. The bedroom was dark and her eyes weren’t adjusted, but her gaze shifted to your form anyway. Ellie propped herself up on one elbow, squinting to look at your back. “Babe. What the hell?” 

You squeezed your eyes shut, unable to rid yourself of the hazy images dancing throughout your mind. Still, you managed one shaky sentence. “I’m pissed at you.” 

Ellie blinked, her eyebrows furrowing. “You’re… what?” 

“I’m pissed at you,” you repeated, your voice slightly muffled by your pillow. 

Immediately, Ellie’s stomach dropped. 

She’s heard you call her annoying through your laughter, and she’s heard you jokingly call her rude whenever she deadpans a joke. But this? Just a blatant I’m pissed at you with no hint of lightness in your tone? Ellie hasn’t heard that before. Hasn’t wanted to hear it, and never wanted to hear it again, quite frankly. 

Ellie was essentially frozen, staring at your back like it could help her figure out the sudden cause of this. She swallowed, her jaw working as she desperately tried to clamp down on every insecurity and fear of abandonment that suddenly seemed to flare. “Why?” Ellie reached out a hesitant hand, allowing it to hover before she rested it gingerly against your back. 

At the question and the gentle touch, you were torn between melting and going rigid. She was so fucking sweet, and so careful when she had to be. And yet, those fucking images– 

“Because. You and this girl, like, laughing… and shit. And touching. And you were drinking a beer, and–” 

Ellie blinked, forehead creasing as she listened to your tired, upset mumbling. “Dude, what the fuck are you even talking about?” 

You huffed, suddenly shifting onto your opposite side so that you could face Ellie. As you did so, Ellie’s hand cautiously left your back. You blinked rapidly, willing your eyes to adjust quickly in the dark. 

Ellie was still propped on one elbow, a concerned expression etched across her features. Eyebrows drawn together, her gaze locked on your face as soon as you had turned to look at her. Ellie hadn't taken down her hair before going to bed, her half-bun barely even existing anymore as most of her auburn strands had slipped away from the hair tie. She looked soft, basically, in a way that made you want to wrap your arms around her and stay like that forever. 

Instead of meeting her gaze, your eyes drifted downward as if to study the faded band shirt that she was wearing. It was so worn, that tiny holes were starting to form around the neckline. 

“You cheated on me,” you finally said, the words nearly getting caught in your throat. Your heart hammered, your body feeling uncomfortably warm with stress and anxiety due to the situation. 

An immediate scoff left Ellie’s lips. “No, the fuck I did not? Babe–” 

“In my dream,” you clarified pointedly, finally meeting her gaze with your own accusing expression. 

Ellie went silent. She blinked once as she stared at you, her lips slightly parted. “Okay?” 

“What do you mean, okay? You cheat on me, and then don’t even fucking show any remorse?” you shot back instantly. The soft sheets pooled around your waist as you sat up, internally feeling much too heated to remain snuggled within the covers. 

Ellie’s expression twisted, like she didn’t know whether to laugh or be annoyed. “Babe, though, I didn’t cheat.” 

You found yourself rolling your eyes before you could even think about holding back the action. “You literally did, though.” 

“In your dream.” 

“Yes.” 

“Okay? So no, I did not.” 

You huffed, fingers twitching with the urge to grasp your pillow and smack your girlfriend with it. “What is your literal problem? You can’t even apologize, or be remorseful?” 

“What’s your problem?” Ellie retorted, nose wrinkling. “You like, elbowed the fuck outta me.” 

Expression faltering, your eyebrows knitted together. “Wait, really?” you questioned, your tone softening. “Did it– Are you–” 

Ellie snorted, shifting to lay back down. “Nah. I’m good. Just scared the shit out of me,” she mumbled, getting comfortable once more as her head rested against her pillow. 

You watched her with a frown, reaching out to nudge at her shoulder. “What are you doing?” 

“Sleeping?” 

“Um, no? Ellie. We have to talk about this.” 

Ellie mumbled something under her breath, her fist raising to scratch at her nose. “Talk about what?” 

“The fact that you cheated?” you said like it was obvious, prodding at Ellie’s shoulder through the material of her shirt. 

Shaking her head slightly, Ellie closed her eyes. “I love you?” she attempted, already feeling the tempting lure of sleep washing back over her. 

With a huff, your hand fell away from her shoulder. “I’m not even joking, El. It was so messed up.” 

“Uh huh.” 

“We were like, at some bar. And I went to the bathroom, but when I came back, you were talking to some girl. And she was like, leaning really close. And I couldn’t see the front of her, but her boobs probably looked great and she was like, right there, and–” 

“Babe–” 

“And she was like, touching your tattoo, and you put your fucking arm around her waist? And you looked really hot, like, how you were sitting, but I was literally gonna throw up because you were just letting her in your space like that, and–” 

“Jesus– Babe–” 

“–lowkey nothing else happened I don’t think, but I honestly feel like you were gonna kiss or something, like, it was like you just forgot about me so fast–” 

When your voice broke, Ellie’s head whipped to look at you. 

“Shit, dude, you’re actually upset?” she asked, sitting up once more and tentatively reaching for you. 

Ellie’s hand landed on your knee–a comforting touch–but you still glared at her. “That’s what I’ve literally been saying,” you said, narrowing your eyes at her. 

“Yeah, but I thought… I dunno, thought you were, like… I don’t know.” 

You let Ellie’s hand linger on your knee, and you shifted to sit a little closer. “It was a bad dream,” you admitted, reaching your hand to rest against the bare skin of Ellie’s knee, too. 

“Stupid fuckin’ dream,” Ellie muttered, studying your expression. She was still torn, slightly thrown off from being woken up so abruptly… and the less than serious nature of it all. Still, how many times had you stayed up with Ellie when insomnia had been–quite honestly–beating her ass? How many times had you talked her down from an anxiety attack? Ellie huffed. “Babe, you know I’d never–” 

“I know,” you mumbled softly, your free hand moving to fiddle with some strands of your hair. “I know, I know, I know."

Ellie’s hand moved from your knee to your back, rubbing slow, soothing circles over your shirt. She still felt the urge to comfort–somehow–despite the fact that she had been… a little annoyed that you were annoyed due to a dream, and caught off guard because of your genuine emotions over the whole thing. “Is there… Did I, like, do something? To make you–” 

“No,” you interrupted quickly, though your tone remained gentle–quiet between the two of you. “It was a stupid dream.” Your eyes tracked your thumb as you dragged it over Ellie’s knee. “Like when you had that stupid dream about me leaving you for the girl from Alien.” 

Ellie had opened her mouth to speak–to provide you with automatic reassurances–but your words made her mouth slam shut. Her brows furrowed, a slight hint of embarrassment pressing at her like a prickle on the back of her neck. “Okay, that’s–” 

“Which one was it again?” you continued, shooting Ellie a curious look. She almost wished that you would go back to accusing her of something over a dream rather than revisit this topic. “Ellen Ripley, or Rain Carradine?” 

Ellie exhaled, her hand slowing to a stop against your back. “Like… either,” she mumbled, avoiding your gaze. Stupid. Embarrassing. Not that Ellie cared. 

Your focus, however, had already been entirely shifted to the topic. “Baby, I’d never,” you murmured, shifting to sit on your knees and reaching for Ellie’s face. Ellie rolled her eyes and tilted her chin away. “No badass Alien character could ever replace you. You’re just as cool. Even cooler.” 

“Uh huh,” Ellie remarked dryly, pulling her arms away from you and shifting slightly, just barely escaping your attempts of touch. 

Barely deterred, you grabbed Ellie’s hands. “You could totally fight aliens.” 

“I’d be the alien killing master. Any sort of monster, or whatever, honestly. I’d be a pro. Like, imagine me killing–” 

“Stop. I don’t even want to have to think about you being in some, like… horrible, scary world–” 

Ellie pulled her hands away from your grasp, one of her knees digging into the mattress as she shifted to face you. “I thought you were pissed at me, though?” she muttered dryly, cupping the sides of your face. 

“Less than pissed, now,” you murmured, your gaze flickering back and forth between Ellie’s eyes. 

Ellie’s response to that was a wordless one. She leaned over you, pressing a firm kiss against your lips while simultaneously guiding your form down, your back cushioned by the soft bedding once more. Ellie made herself sturdy, her other leg positioning between your thighs. Not pressing–but there. You melted in delight, fingers moving to gently tangle within her auburn strands. You broke the kiss with a laugh, however, when the hair tie that had been practically holding on for dear life slipped away from Ellie’s hair and into your grasp. 

Lips tugging upward at the sound of your amusement, Ellie pressed a quick kiss to the corner of your mouth before pulling away. She flopped onto her back with a tired groan, which earned another laugh from you. 

“You sound so ridiculous, you know that?” you jokingly chided, turning your cheek against your pillow to look at her. Your shared bedding was cozy–mismatched patterns of shades of green and florals that just seemed to work. The sheets were now twisted around your legs. “You make fun of Joel whenever he does the whole grunt and groan thing when sitting around, but you kinda do it, too.” 

Ellie wrinkled her nose, mirroring your action by turning her head to look at you. “Don’t compare me to Joel,” she grumbled. Despite the quiet complaint, she shifted onto her side–so you did the same. 

Practically nose to nose, you studied each other. Your smile lingered, all soft and faint with a tired sort of fondness–nightmare be damned. Ellie’s expression held a trace of concern, though. Her teeth pulled at her bottom lip. 

“You’re so fucking pretty, it’s unfair,” you whispered. 

Ellie nearly snorted. “Says you.” She almost hesitated, her hand seeking out your skin. She rubbed her palm over the expanse of your arm–from your shoulder down to your wrist, back and forth. “Hey. You know I’d never actually… right? I’d never do something that fucking dumb, like–” 

“El, I know,” you replied, lifting your leg slightly to hook it around her. “And Rain Carradine could never be you. The similar hairstyle doesn’t mean anything, truly. I’d choose you any day.” 

“Wow. Thanks, babe. You’re so sweet.”

 Despite Ellie’s dry tone, you caught the curve of her smile before she ducked her head, her lips lazily getting busy against your neck. Your eyes fluttered shut, a quiet hum escaping you. Gone were the lingering feelings of unease, the impact of your dream. The images grew hazier as they faded, replaced by the very real feeling of Ellie mouthing at your skin. 

“And,” Ellie pressed on, speaking between each kiss that she planted against your neck. “I could do the whole Alien thing, or whatever. Yeah? Right?” 

You feigned a groan, though the sound came out much too brightly due to your amused, affectionate smile. “Ugh, you’re so annoying–”