She paused her conversation with a potential shimmer customer to turn her attention toward the stage. Unlike the others, this dancer’s presence was only announced by her chosen song, she was wearing loose black pants, however, the material was thin enough that when the club lights hit it just right, one could see the sparkly gold thong she adorned.

Her heels were tall, Sevika assumed at least 8 inches, but the dancer walked with confidence, her head held high, the vibrant lights illuminating her smooth, dark skin as she strutted across the stage. The material of her pants matched her top, so it shared a similar effect in revealing the shimmering gold of what Sevika could barely consider an undershirt, seeing as it was a strip of fabric that really only covered her nipples.

The thick locs of her hair were tied upon her head and adorned with gold accents and a singular small rose hair clip, her face had the solemn reverence of a ballerina and if it weren’t for the smell of alcohol or boisterous laughter coming from other very drunk patrons Sevika might have thought she had accidentally wandered into a theatre instead of a stripclub rightfully ordained The Barbarian.

If Sevika wasn’t already enraptured by her appearance, then she was by her performance. The dancer approached the pole, gripping onto it, and when the lyrics began, she spun around twice before dropping into a squat that had patrons tossing bills at her like crazy. For other strippers, the prospect of money made them rush the performance, toss a few $50’s their way and half their outfit was gone before the end of the song.

But she made them all wait. She didn’t even bat an eye when one of the wealthier men threw a stack of at least $600 her way after she teased the reveal of what was underneath her covering. Sevika watched with rapt attention as she glided around the pole like it was second nature. A lot of the times, Sevika had seen dancers who considered the pole a nuisance and rarely touched it during their performance, but she worked it to her advantage. She made it look like an art as she gracefully hooked onto the pole, moving in time with the music in a way that was both suggestive and serene. The covering of her top came off after the second chorus, and the audience erupted with whistles and whoops of satisfaction.

Sevika’s eyes didn’t leave her or the hypnotic way she moved for a second, and every glance she cast her way made her pulse flutter. Sevika didn’t usually dress up for establishments like The Barbarian. Her outfits typically consisted of something dark and casual, and she thought it better not to flaunt her wealth with expensive jewelry or clothing because, for some of these girls, wealth was about as appetizing as chum to a bloodthirsty shark.

But something about the way the dancer's gold-speckled eyes dragged over her made Sevika wish she had worn something more opulent, or at least that luxury watch Silco had given her a few years ago after a job well done.

Her top didn’t leave much to the imagination, yet still had an air of modesty to it. At one point, she had turned upside down while on the pole, causing her hair to unravel from its hold and cascade down. Sevika almost barked.

What the fuck was going on? Sevika barely reacted to the dancers, let alone so vivaciously. She didn’t even know the lady’s name yet, and she almost had her acting out of character already? Sevika needed a drink… or four.

She (reluctantly) tore her eyes away and started toward the bar before another round of cheer, rowdier than the last, exploded. Sevika’s head whipped around to see the dancer, now pantless, on her knees, letting members of the audience stuff wads of cash into the garter around her thigh. An unfamiliar and unwarranted surge of jealousy zipped through Sevika.

All thoughts of alcohol left her brain, the dancer's performance was almost over and Sevika would be damned if she didn’t make some kind of impression. She stomped toward the stage with a challenging smirk on her face as she held 1500 dollars over the tip rail with her mech arm. The dancer’s eyes widened briefly before she approached, squatting to take the cash and stuff it in her top with a dangerous smile that equally enticed and alarmed Sevika.

The hand that collected the cash brushed against Sevika’s for a second, and she could’ve sworn she felt a bolt of electricity zip down her spine. The dancer paused before standing back to her full height, and just like that, the performance ended, and so did the hold the dancer had on the audience as the DJ played some trending pop song, allowing her to grab the cash that was on the floor.

Sevika’s eyes followed her as she walked backstage, a small smile on her lips. She was about to return to the bar when something glinted on the stage floor, a knowing smile played at her face as she picked up the item and slid it into her pocket.

Many dancers took to the floor after a small break backstage, looking for those interested in private or lap dances, but something told Sevika that she wasn’t like the others. Even so, she waited a few minutes and declined the very obvious advances of another dancer named Crystal Cleave.

After another 5 minutes, Sevika flagged down the owner and approached in what she hoped was a casual manner, “Kevin.”

“Silco’s left arm woman,” The man rasped after finishing his glass of scotch. “Enjoying the show, I hope?”

“How much for a dance from her?” Sevika was a busy (and desperate) woman, so she cut to the chase.

Kevin sighed, plucking a cigar from his breast pocket and lighting it up. “She doesn’t do private dances.” Funny, Sevika didn’t say a name yet he knew exactly who she was talking about.

“I thought you made all your dancers do private dances.” She didn’t particularly like Kevin or the way he did his business, but regardless, he earned a profit, and it was because he delivered.

“She’s a…special case.” Sevika grimaced at the oily smile that overtook his face.

“What do you mean?” She crossed arms, already fed up with the cryptic ambiguous bullshit.

Kevin took a puff before meeting her eyes, “Why so curious, Sevika? Did the little rose pique your interest?”

Her gaze was steel as she plucked the cigar from his sweaty palms and crushed it under her foot. “No.”

He shot her a nasty glare but knew better than to talk back. “If you’re so interested,” he said, his tone sour. “Then head to the back and ask her yourself.”

She squinted at him before turning on her heel and walking to the door that read STAFF ONLY in bold letters.

“Careful, Vika,” Kevin called, pulling out a new cigar. “That rose has thorns!”

Sevika ignored him and pushed open the door; none of the dancers batted an eye as she strided in, her eyes immediately landed on gorgeous brown skin and long black locs…just a few more steps and–

“Vika!” A cheery blonde latched onto her metal arm and stole her attention for a brief moment.

Sevika stifled a sigh. “Cocoa.”

The dancer beamed up at her, her hair fell in loose waves over her chest, which was barely covered by a bright pink bandeau top. “Where have you been, baby? I missed you!”

Her or her money?

Cocoa was one of the girls Sevika paid for most often, she was cute, cheerful, and had a hell of an ass. Sevika, on occasion, enjoyed the company of someone who could melt away the stress of her work day with mindless conversation and simple observations.

But at that moment, she just felt irritated.

“Busy.”

Cocoa’s glossed lips pouted as she dragged her long nails over Sevika’s chest, “That’s all? Couldn’t have even visited once?”

“No.” Sevika tore her arm away from the blonde’s hold and looked back up to find the dancer had disappeared. A quiet curse left her lips, She shot Cocoa an annoyed glance before moving forward.

Sevika spent 5 minutes asking the other dancers if they had seen where she went, but each one either shrugged or tried to redirect her attention to them. They weren’t anything if not persistent. After a few more futile tasks, she returned to the bar. Sevika didn’t consider herself a quitter but was ready to give up and leave for the night when a slender finger gently tapped her shoulder.

“That was quite the generous tip you gave earlier, Sevika.” Her voice was as clear and elegant as Sevika had expected.

She sat in the vacant stool next to Sevika, crossing her legs and gazing at her with the refined grace she seemed to exude every time she moved.

A hint of surprise laced Sevika’s features as she turned her attention to the dancer, who happened to be even more beautiful up close, “You know who I am?” She realized it was a stupid question right after she asked it. Everybody who’s anybody in the redlight district of the city knew who Silco was, and in turn, knew Sevika. Not to mention, she was a frequent visitor and generous tipper, so there was a good chance the other girls had filled her in.

The tips of Sevika’s ears flushed slightly at the incredulous look the dancer gave her, “I do. Silco’s number one enforcer with a steel gaze and iron fist.” Her tone was almost mocking, and Sevika understood the description had obviously come from one of the other dancers.

She regained her composure easily, “Don’t you think this is unfair? I have no idea who you are.”

The dancer sighed, feigning indifference, but there was a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Play your cards right, and maybe I’ll tell you my name.”

There were few things Sevika enjoyed in life, two of them happened to be a challenge and a good game of cards.

Sevika placed down what was probably her third glass of scotch that night, essentially putting her game face on. “As for the tip…what can I say? I’m a patron of the arts.”

The dancer’s lips curved into a knowing smile. “Is that so?”

Sevika nodded, and an answering smile found its way onto her face. “You changed.”

Sevika’s gaze dragged over the dancer’s new attire, a black slip dress with intricate gold detailing up the side, and her hair was once again tied in a dignified knot.

“Well, I am off the clock.” She nodded at the bartender, who promptly began mixing her a drink.

“You’re very good at what you do,” Sevika mused, shamelessly enjoying the playful banter. “When did you start?”

The bartender handed her a drink, an aperol spritz, which she sipped demurely. “When I was 12. Which is actually quite late.”

Sevika’s eyebrows shot up, and the dancer let out a giggle that made her chest bloom with warmth.

“Oh, you meant this.” She gestured vaguely to the stage, “About a month ago.”

Sevika couldn’t hide her shock. It had to be a lie, the way her body moved against the pole, the way she gripped the audience's attention with a simple smile or roll of her hips, there was no way in hell she was a novice.

The dancer noticed Sevika’s skepticism and smiled as she spoke, “I’m a fast learner.”

Sevika nodded and took another swig from her glass before speaking. “Is this something you’ve always wanted to do?”

The dancer's gaze drifted toward the stage, and Sevika could’ve sworn she saw a flash of sadness cross her face, but then she blinked, and it was replaced with a polite smile. “No.”

Before Sevika could investigate further, the dancer turned to her, “And you?” She blinked at Sevika’s left arm. “Is what you do something you’ve always wanted to?”

The question threw Sevika for a loop, transported her back years, to a time when her dark hair brushed past her shoulders, her size-too-big sneakers scuffed and always untied, when she was always hungry and her father was always angry, when she was first introduced to the world she knew so intimately now. She snapped back to the present when the distant holler of an audience member reached her ears and she realized she hadn’t responded at all.

“No.” She said simply.

The dancer looked at her–no, it was more like she looked through her, past the scarred flesh and hard exterior Sevika had spent years crafting and saw her soul, battered and bruised yet still flickering with life. Sevika’s skin began to itch.

Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, Sevika’s phone blared. The sudden interruption made the dancer rip her eyes away from Sevika, and she began to trace her finger around the rim of her glass. Sevika didn’t need to look at her screen to know who was calling her.

“What?” She couldn’t mask the irritation in her voice because she knew whatever he needed would force her away from the dancer.

“I need you to take care of something.” Silco’s gravelly voice cut through the speaker. He didn’t need to elaborate. By something, he meant someone, either a witness, a traitor, or a customer who had missed one too many payments; perhaps even all 3.

Silco filled her in on the details and ended as soon as he was done. She glanced at the dancer who had already been gazing at her with an empathetic smile.

“Duty calls,” She sighed, finishing the last of her drink.

“Duty calls,” Sevika repeated, dropping a few bills–enough to pay for her glasses of scotch as well as the dancer’s aperol spritz and another if she desired–and started toward the exit.

Before she could get too far, the dancer gripped her right arm, an action that would result in a black eye for almost anybody else, but Sevika turned around slowly as she felt the warmth of the dancer's soft palm seep through her skin and spread through her veins.

Deep pools of hazel speckled with gold met shifting layers of grey as the two gazed at each other.

“Mel.” The dancer spoke.

She clarified at the quirk of Sevika’s brow, “My name...it’s Mel.”

A blanket of cold air wooshed over Sevika as recognition set in, and then hot, molten rage. Though long buried, it still caused the air around the two to crackle with danger. Disgust coated her features as she reeled back, tugging her arm away.

She didn’t need to hear a last name; Mel’s face was identification enough. Her smile, just a few minutes prior, had filled her chest with warmth. Now? It seemed deceitful, a carefully curated mask used to lower Sevika’s guard and she had fucking fallen for it.

Mel’s eyes, laced with concern, scanned Sevika’s face. “What’s wr–”

“Stop!” Sevika barked, garnering a few glances from the other people at the bar. “I should’ve fucking known.”

Mel’s brows pinched with worry, “Have I done something?”

Her tone was so sweet, so genuine, it made Sevika’s heart hurt, and her gaze was a blaze of steel as she stared at Mel, “Ambessa Medarda.” She spat the name like poison. “Piltover Warhawk. Founder of the Vorta initiative. You're her daughter?”

She already knew the answer, but another wave of fury engulfed her at Mel’s small nod.

“Fuck!” Sevika cursed, dragging her palm down her face. Everything around her was shifting, the room pulsed bizarrely, and every noise seemed amplified, as she was tossed in the past for a second time that night.

The wails of her siblings as she was marched into the back of a blacked-out van, the other children, even younger than her, pumped full of shimmer with wild eyes and hollow cheeks, the overbearing chemical scent of cleaner that did little to mask the scent of blood. Lots and lots of blood, the eerie silence before a supernova of light blinded her, and one of the loudest sounds she’s ever heard blasted her eardrums, the terrifying sight of what was left of her arm, and the icy, disappointed glare of Ambessa Medarda.

“You had potential.” Four words, said briefly, and then she was gone.

“She called it advancement,” Sevika spoke, finally done remembering the ghosts of her past. “Strategy. Sacrifice.”

Mel’s face, contorted in what Sevika assumed was perfectly feigned confusion, as if she had no idea what she was referring to, still, she continued.

“Your name is a warning.” Sevika stepped closer, not to intimidate, but to make sure Mel heard every syllable. “And if you ever come near me again, like tonight meant anything–”

She stopped herself, shaking her head.

“Go back to your mother’s palace. At least the monsters up there wear perfume.”

You bumped her arm. “Could you imagine? The two of us, a couple?” You laughed again, fidgeting with the hem of the blanket.

“Is that so crazy?” She chuckled weakly.

“Yeah, you’re way too cool for me. Dina told me about Cat and your other exes, you have a type.” You sighed.

While Ellie did have a type, and unfortunately wasn’t what you thought, her type was her…well, her friends. She tended to fall for her friends, and it was one thing she hated most about herself.

“That doesn’t mean anything, and if I’m too cool for you, then you're way too good for me.”

“Yeah, okay Ellie—“

”★.” You pulled your gaze from the blanket and met Ellie's eyes. You’d always thought they were beautiful, but the way she was looking at you now…you shifted slightly as you were suddenly aware of how close the two of you were, and how the short strands of her hair were tickling your skin, and how good she smelled, like pine. Woody and fresh.

“You wanna hear something funnier?” She whispered, her voice low and husky, as if she were to speak any louder, it would shatter the moment.

Yes, you wanted to say, but you couldn’t seem to get your voice to work, so you opted for a nod.

“I had a crush on you, too.” Her minty breath warmed the side of your jaw. When had she gotten so close?

Your mouth ran dry as your heart reached speeds you never even knew possible. Your hands gripped your blanket as she moved impossibly closer, so that her lips were now grazing that spot right below your ear, the one that made you shiver with delight.

“Wanna know something else?” She said, her tone hushed but you could hear the next words she spoke like she had shouted them into a microphone and caused them to reverberate throughout your entire being.

“I still do.”

The gasp that left your mouth was unlike any you’ve ever made before. It was breathy, lustful, and made Ellie’s head reel.

“Kiss me.” You said, staring into her beautifully dilated viridescent eyes.

And fuck, did she want to. She hadn’t stopped dreaming about it practically since she met you, but something stopped her; her last semblance of goodwill. Ellie had done some bad things in her life, but kissing you at that moment was practically signing her name for room and board in hell.

She had, to the best of her abilities, stopped any prospect of men and women from approaching you, infringed on your relationships multiple times without you knowing, and orchestrated the breakup between you and your boyfriend. Ellie had already come to terms with the fact she wasn’t the best person, even before doing all those things, but kissing you would by far be the most degenerate thing she’s ever done.

“I…can’t.” She scrunched her eyes closed and sank back against the soft cushions of your sofa.

Kissing you meant risking your exposure to all the bad things she’s done, it meant letting you into her life and showing you the real her, not just the good parts she revealed to you. And she couldn’t do that, not yet—

“Please?” You asked in a small voice, and every ounce of willpower left in her evaporated.

Her lips were on yours, and she was kissing you. Her tongue slipped inside your mouth, gentle as if careful not to break you, yet desperate enough that it causes you to gasp. Ellie silently cursed herself for not doing this sooner. She decided that if kissing you meant going to hell, she hoped she never saw heaven.

Your fingers found purchase in the short hairs at the back of her neck as she pulled back just to dive in once more. Your veins pulsed and your heart throbbed, and your entire body was hot, not like a crackling fire, but a molten heat, slow and syrupy from the top of your head to the low part of your belly and the bottom of your toes.

None of your kisses have ever felt like this before, ever. And that revelation made your head spin and cunt ache. You realized you wanted her closer, wanted her hands on you everywhere, touching, feeling, squeezing.

You pulled back from her lips for a moment, and the look on her face made your thighs clench, her eyes half-lidded, her beautiful pink lips swollen and wet, her freckled cheeks flushed. She watched with rapt attention as your fingers reached for the hem of your shirt and you pulled it off.

Her eyes lingered on your face before slowly lowering to your chest. If it’s even possible, it seemed as though her pupils grew even bigger. Your skin heated, and she stared for so long you started to move your arm to shield her view, but she grabbed your wrist.

“You’re beautiful,” she said. Her gaze was so intense and honest that it made you shudder.

A small smile made its way onto your lips, but they were quickly parted by a sharp gasp when Ellie placed a kiss on your sternum. She slid her hand further up to interlock your fingers before gently pushing you back so that you were lying on the couch with your hand pinned above you.

She continued kissing your chest, biting here and there, which she knew would bloom into wonderful marks of her and earned her a few whimpers, but when she reached your breast, taking your nipple in her mouth and suckling, you had to bite back a moan.

Your free hand gripped the short hairs at the back of her neck as she continued her assault on your breasts, moans and whimpers spilled out of you as she toyed with your nipples over and over, even using her free hand to pinch the stiff peaks, which earned her a particularly sinful noise.

“Ellie.” You gasped, writhing underneath her touch. As much as you loved her mouth on your chest, you needed her attention somewhere else more.

She let go with a loud pop, “Hmm?” She hummed, knowing full well what you needed.

“I need you…” You whined.

She let out a low chuckle against your skin, “You have me.”

Another whine of her name from your lips, and she’s barely concealing her pleased smile. You considered pushing her off you from sheer exasperation, but when your palm pressed against her, she kissed you again.

Her hand finally, finally trailed down your waist and to the sensitive skin on the inside of your thighs. Slowly and purposefully, she parted them. Your heart rattled against your chest so rapidly you feared it might burst through.

Ellie revelled in the way you reacted to every one of her touches. The way you looked at her, lust-filled gaze and your lips parted in breathless anticipation, made her slick in a way she didn’t think possible. She wondered if you had even a clue of your effect on her.

She dragged a single finger across your clothed cunt which elicited one of the sweetest noises she’s ever heard and the slick that cling to the pad of her finger practically made her delirious.

All for me, she thought.

After torturing you (and herself) with more feather-light touches, she'd gained enough mercy and you’d lost enough patience to the point where your eyes were glossy with tears.

“Ellie, please fuck me…I can’t, it’s—“

A dark laugh escaped her, she supposed she’d made you wait long enough. Besides, you were hers, fully and irrevocably; there’d be other chances to savour each moan, whimper, and shiver.

As for now? She’d give you exactly what you needed.

The familiar sound of fabric ripping made you tilt your head up, just enough to see her pocket the shreds of your panties, and felt cold air whoosh against your cunt for a second before her mouth was on you.

“Fuck,” You tossed your head back as pleasure glided up your body.

Ellie was as determined and relentless with the way she ate you out as she was with everything else. With a few purposeful licks she had you panting like a bitch in heat and your hips had a mind of their own as they pressed up into her.

The wanton moans leaving your mouth were downright sinful. The small, still coherent part of your mind made a mental note to drop by some apology muffins to your neighbours later but it was quickly drowned out when Ellie’s teeth scraped against your clit in a way that made you sob.

Your thighs squeezed against her head so hard it was almost difficult to breathe, but she’d gladly die before relenting you the pleasure she’d been privileged to grant you.

Her large hands were splayed against the soft skin of your legs and the grip she had was firm but gentle, hard enough to hold you in place but not to bruise as she essentially made out with your pussy. She rotated between shoving deep into you, relishing in the way your gummy walls clenched for her, and flicking her tongue against your aching clit.

“Pleasepleaseplease, I’m so—so close.” Your voice was hoarse, but she understood you perfectly.

She understood the shaking of your legs, the breathless whimpers and the rapid rise and fall of your chest. You were on the brink of ruin, and she had led you there. The thought made her chest expand with pride and smile against your cunt.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so beautiful.” She murmured into your folds and the vibrations made you squirm.

Then another thought, born from jealousy and countless nights spent with her hands shoved past her panties, imagining the very scene in front of her. You, desperate and writhing beneath her while she worked you apart with her tongue, begging for her and only her. The thought made her part from your folds, and the sudden blast of cool air made you whimper at the loss of her.

She shouldn’t ask, she should savour the moment and bask in the opportunity she had been given, but how could she? How could she when the small part of her, the one that had once made her search your room when you were in the restroom for your perfume, so she could go out and buy a replica just to have her place smell like you, the one that had swiped dozens of your lip glosses just so she could “feel” your lips against hers, the one that made her wait for you after a night out in the dark of the night, sheathed in the shadows outside of your apartment complex just to make sure you got home safe, the part that made her beat your fucking ex senseless so he’d understood who exactly you belonged to.

She knew, but she had to make sure you did.

She was breathless as she spoke, leaned against your thigh with her freckled face flushed, as she gazed up at you.

“You know how long I’ve been waiting for this? Waiting to make you mine?”

Your brain was still hazy after being torn from your impending orgasm and but you managed a shake of your head, nudging your hips up, silently begging for her to continue her previous ministrations; unfortunately, silence wasn't good enough.

She gripped your thigh harder, pressing her fingers into the soft skin. “Say it.”

Something about the way she looked at you, as if she were a ravenous wolf that had just locked onto her prey, made you shiver despite the heat radiating off your skin.

“I’m yours,” you spoke like an exhale, warm and soft, and Ellie groaned, scrunching her eyes closed.

She kissed your thigh, her warm breath ghosting over your folds, “Again.”

“I’m yours.”

Ellie smiled, pleased with your confirmation she placed a kiss on your clit before diving right back in and your head tipped back as a breathless curse spilled from your lips.

Her own cunt weeped, desperate for attention and more stimulation than the occasional press of your couch. Regardless, she gripped your thighs, forcing you still as she held her tongue flat against you and shook her head.

“Ah—fuck, Ellie I’m—”

A guttural moan tore through you as you plummeted into an ocean of ecstasy, each wave that wracked through made you shudder, and stars danced across your vision. Ellie stayed still as you ground yourself against her tongue, squeezing out the last moments of your orgasm. You fell against the couch, satisfied and spent, as Ellie leaned back to catch her breath.

After a few moments, your eyes flutter open and you sit up. Ellie watched you the whole time, her expression slightly dazed, and the bottom of her face still glistened with your slick.

“Wow, Els, that was…” Your sentence trailed off into a giggle as you noticed her appearance: hair tousled, cheeks flushed, pupils blown wide. You probably looked pretty similar.

A small smirk brightened your face, “Got a little something,” you gestured to your jaw.

“Oh, what? Here?” An answering grin grew as she wiped her cheek, completely missing the bottom half of her face.

You rolled your eyes, but your smile blossomed. “Let me help you.”

You leaned in, but as you raised your hand to her face, she pulled you in for a kiss. It was tender, sweet, tasted like a thousand promises, and, well–you. You pouted slightly as she pulled away and rose from the couch.

A soft laugh left her lips at your disgruntled expression. “I’ll be back in a second.”

She padded off into your kitchen, likely going to grab something to clean you up as you sat on your sofa. Ellie had been your best friend for so long, and while you had enjoyed that time, you couldn’t help but wish you had confessed to her earlier…being with her just felt so right, and it seemed as though she knew you better than you knew yourself.

Your cheeks grew hot as you recalled the last few moments, but as the last few embers of intimacy cooled, a kernel of anxiety made itself known in the pit of your stomach. There were a few instances in the past where you and Ellie had toed the line between friendship and…something more, but after tonight, it was evident there’d be no going back.

Were you two dating now? Or just friends with benefits? She’d made you call yourself hers, but was that just for tonight? Irrelevant dirty talk spewed in a moment of lust?

Your thoughts jumbled together in a cacophony of noise but died down to a low buzz as Ellie returned, damp rag and glass of water in hand.

She handed you the glass and tended to the mess between your thighs as you sipped the water. You considered staying quiet in fear of being too forward and ruining a good thing before it even started. However, Ellie could read you like a book, so she didn't bother looking up when she asked you what was wrong.

You chewed on your bottom lip but decided to speak up, “I just want to know what we are now.”

She cast you a puzzled glance and placed the rag on your coffee table before joining you on the couch. “What do you want us to be, ★?”

Your gaze fell to the floor, skimming over the patterned material of your carpet, but you felt a gentle hand on your jaw as Ellie turned your head so you met her gaze.

You looked into her verdant green eyes, and saw several emotions: fear, regret, anxiety, but, the one that stood out the most, the one that made you feel silly for even worrying in the first place, was love.

“I want us to be together…more than friends, dating,” You decided.

You could practically see the relief that rushed over Ellie as she smiled, drawing you in for a quick kiss. “Then that’s what we’ll be.”

A smile of your own followed, but you barely had any time to bask in the confession as Ellie’s phone blared, announcing a call.

She sighed as she gripped the device. If it were anybody else, she wouldn't answer, but it was Joel, so something had to be up.

Ellie shot you an apologetic glance as she picked up “Hello?”

You couldn’t make out what he was saying, but his tone registered as annoyed. After a few seconds, Ellie said goodbye.

“I’m sorry, baby, I have to go.” Ellie bent down and placed a kiss on your cheek before grabbing her coat off the floor and heading for the door.

You were slightly disappointed, but Joel wouldn’t call Ellie over for nothing. Besides, the two of you were dating now so odds were you were going to see her again very soon.

You told her goodbye before she left, which gave you the clarity to take in the state of your very messy living room. With a sigh, you stood up, stretched your limbs and grabbed your phone to turn on a podcast before you started cleaning.

However, someone texted you as soon as you tapped your music app, causing you to open the message. You rolled your eyes as your landlady's number came into view.

After sharing a few heated words with your elderly neighbour, you had come to terms with the fact that he wasn’t the one who had destroyed your flowers and after finding out the security cameras were broken that night, you left it alone.

You weren’t upset about it anymore, but you had a right to know who it was. The video was blurry, and the fact that it was dark didn’t help, but something about the figure triggered some kind of recognition in the far depths of your brain, kind of like when someone was humming the chorus of a song you couldn't place You held your phone closer to your face and squinted at the pixels; a green, or maybe it was gray, sweatshirt, dark blue or black pants, and sneakers. It was no use, anybody could have worn those clothes. You were about to swipe out of the message when something caught your eye.

The figure raised their hand to scratch behind their ear, causing the sleeve of their hood to slip up a fraction of an inch. Dark ink coiled around their right hand and up their forearm; you made out the image of some kind of leaf.

Your eyes widened, and your phone slipped from your grasp and clattered onto the floor. Slimy tendrils of dread slithered around your throat, tighter and tighter until you were gasping for breath.

You recalled that day, you had finished studying at the library and arrived at your apartment to see Ellie, slightly breathless, holding a pizza box in one hand and her sweater in the other. The person who destroyed your flowers wasn't a disgruntled neighbour, or an anonymous shadowy figure, it was…Ellie.

You lifted your phone to rewatch the footage, the way you could see her body tense with anger, how she tore the flowers apart like they had personally wronged her and stomped on them, crunching every petal underneath her heel.

Was that really the same girl from before? The one who held you as you cried, the one who kissed you tenderly and had you come undone on her tongue? Your stomach tensed in remembrance as you sank to the floor, dropping your phone to cradle your head in your hands.

You had to be fucking kidding her, Abigail Anderson, that bitch of a friend you told her countless times not to worry about even though Ellie knew she liked you. Irritation overtook her and before she knew it her fingers were smashing in the digits that added up to your number.

It rang once, then twice before she heard the familiar grogginess of your voice.

“Hello?”

“Abby fucking Anderson?” She seethed.

She heard a sigh and the shuffling of your bedsheets before you answered, “Ellie, it’s...3 fucking AM. What the hell are you talking about?”

She rolled her eyes even though you couldn’t see her, “Abby Anderson, the friend I wasn’t supposed to worry about.”

“Yeah..what about her?” You sounded confused, as if you didn’t know exactly what you were doing.

“Are you fucking her?” Ellie asked impatiently.

You sighed again, “Are you high?”

“Answer me.”

“That’s none of your business.”

She rubbed her temples, you had always been so stubborn.

“I think it is my fucking business, I deserve to know.”

“Ellie, for Godsakes we broke up months ago, nothing I do should matter to you anymore. We’re over.”

“Oh yeah? Then why do you pick up every time I call?” She clicked her tongue.

“I…” You trailed off.

She had you there, despite the sour tone of your voice and angry puffs of air, you’d always always pick up whenever Ellie called.

“Does she fuck you better than me?” Ellie asked, taking another puff of the now small and burnt blunt.

“Ellie!” You gasped and she let out a raspy chuckle. “You can’t ask me something like that.”

“Is that a no?”

“It’s a none of your fucking business.”

“Ouch, good one.” She giggled. The weed was unfortunately starting to mellow out her anger and the situation almost seemed amusing.

“Fuck you, I’m hanging up—“

“I miss you.” She blurted out, she’d only just gotten you to answer and she didn’t want you to hang up yet, besides, there was a reason for her calling…

You groaned slightly, “Ellie.”

“I’m serious.” She said, even though you could hear the smile in her voice.

“Yeah, right. You miss me or the sex?” You replied, crossing your arms.

“Can’t I miss both?” She smirked, snubbing out her blunt and laying back on her worn bed.

“No. You can’t.” You scoffed.

“Come on ★, don’t be like that. I know you miss me too.” She’d whispered the last part, as if it were devilish secret.

“Yeah! I miss the dirty socks around my apartment and smelly ass hoodies you left on my bed.” You mocked.

Ellie sighed, “Really? Here I was thinking you were gonna say you miss my hands on you.”

“Ellie..” You were catching onto what she was doing and you hated to admit that it was working. Your lower belly surged at her suggestive words and your mind started to wander.

“Or the way I kissed your thighs.” She whispered.

“Ellie I—“

“Or the way you felt when my fingers were shoved into your pussy.”

Yeah, you were fucked.

Your fingers had found their way past the band of your underwear and toward your aching clit.

Ellie heard your labored breathing through the receiver and immediately registered what you were doing.

“Something wrong, ★?” She teased.

“N-no.” You bit back a moan as you moved your fingers faster around the aching nub, the raspy sound of Ellie’s voice egging you on.

“Are you sure? Cause I’m hearing a lot of..shuffling.”

“Yeah it’s… just moving—around.” You said, through laboured breaths.

“Really? Because if I didn’t know any better…I’d have guessed you were fucking yourself.”

Heat creeped up your neck and face, surely you would die of embarrassment, either at the fact that Ellie knew what you were doing or that getting caught made you gush.

“N-no. Like I said, I was just moving.”

You sounded so tense, she almost burst out laughing. Did hearing her really turn you on that much? She decided to test that theory.

“Well, it’s almost 4..you must be pretty tired. I’ll just hang up a—“

“No! Fuck Ellie, keep talking please.” You begged.

That was more like it, no more snarky responses and aloof comments. She knew she could break you, she always did.

“Yeah? You want me to keep going?” The smugness in her voice pissed you off, yet made your thighs clench at the same time. By now her phone was resting on her pillow and her own hand was shoved past her boyshorts.

You nodded before verbalizing your thoughts, “Yes, please.”

“Then tell me,” Ellie said, her legs spread wide on her bed with her while her long fingers circled her slick clit. “Does she fuck better than me?”

You hesitated, knowing whatever you answered with would open a whole other can of worms that you didn’t particularly feel like dealing with.

Unfortunately, you didn’t answer fast enough for Ellie’s liking.

“Hmm. Okay, hanging up.”

“No!” You blurted, you could feel your climax approaching and as much as you hated to admit it, hearing Ellie’s voice, beginning to sound as fucked out as you were, along with the faint squelch of her playing with herself were the only things that would get you there.

A lazy smile tugged at her face, “No she doesn’t fuck better than me? Or no you don’t want me to hang—“

“No. She doesn’t fuck better than you.” You finally admitted.

While her ego swelled and another gush of wetness left her, Ellie wasn’t sure whether to be upset by the confirmation that you and Abby were indeed fucking or to be joyous that she was better in bed than her.

She decided on the latter when she heard a strained whine come from your end of the line.

“Fuck baby I wish I was there with you right now.” She sighed the callus of her finger rubbing against her clit deliciously.

“What would—shit—what would you do?”

Her brain still hazy from her high sputtered as she tried to think back to when the two of you were together, and what drove you absolutely crazy.

A smirk creeped its way onto her face as she rasped into the phone, “I’d start slow, kiss you the way I know you like while my hands play with your tits.”

Your free hand trailed up to your chest, rolling one of your nipples between your fingers. You scrunched your eyes closed, imagining it was Ellie’s warm, rough hand instead of your own.

“Then,” she continued. “I’d move lower, and suck on those perfect nipples of yours.”

A quiet moan escaped you, you could practically feel her wet tongue glide across your tits. You decided that your fingers weren’t doing enough and reached over to your bedside table to pull out your small blue vibrator.

Ellie heard the faint click and buzz and let out a quiet chuckle at the familiar sound before following suit.

You kept the setting low as you held it against your swollen bud, waiting for Ellie to continue.

She spoke through soft gasps, the incessant vibrations on her pussy making her buck agaisng the toy, she could feel her climax approaching and she was getting impatient.

“Then I’d kiss down your hips, leaving marks here and there so that bitch knows your mine. Then when I get to that slutty pussy of yours I’d take you in my mouth, rolling my tongue against your clit over and over. Until the only thing you could say was my name.”

You upped the setting, practically humping the toy at this point as the image of Ellie, bent in front of you, abusing your cunt with her tongue filtered through your head.

“Ohmygod. ‘m s-so close, Ellie.” You repeated her name like a mantra and the sound was music to her ears as she upped the vibrator to its highest setting, tears pricking at her eyes at the overwhelming pleasure as she circled her needy clit.

She was oh so close, but she needed to hear you say something first.

“Who’s—fuck me—pussy is that?” She all but gasped into the phone.

Your response was delayed from how lost you were in your own pleasure, “W-what?”

“Who’s pussy is that?” She repeated.

She was ridiculous! and if it weren’t for how desperately you wanted to come you would’ve told her so, but you were getting tired and if you didn’t come soon you were certain you would die.

“Yours! Fuck Ellie, it’s yours, always.” You cried.

As soon as those sweet words hit her ears her orgasm crashed into her, her cunt spasmed as she bucked up into the vibrator. Her high tripling the waves of pleasure that rocked over her and tears streamed down her cheeks while quiet moans and slurred curses rolled out of her.

She heard when you reached yours, quiet whimpers followed by loud curse filtered through her speakers and she could practically see what you looked like; your brows scrunched up and eyes half open while your jaw hung slack, your swollen lips slick with salvia and back arched as you twitched against the vibrator before slumping into your soft sheets.

For the next few minutes neither of you said anything, allowing each other to recover. After a while of hearing nothing but her quiet breaths, you were sure Ellie had fallen asleep, and made to grab your phone so that you could hang up.

Right before you could press the red end call button, she spoke up.

“I still love you.” Her voice was small, and the difference between it now and just 20 minutes ago almost made you laugh.

“Ellie…” You sighed, you were so certain of your break up with her. The two of you were on and off for months before you officially broke things off and you’d felt so relieved in the moment.

Abby had been there for you, she’d comforted you and supported you and was an almost perfect lover. But a tiny, twisted part of you still ached for Ellie’s touch.

“I’m with Abby now.” You whispered almost imperceptibly.

“I know,” She spoke softly. “But I know you still love me too.”

You went quiet, uncertainty quelled in your heart. Did you still love her? Or was the high from your orgasm still clouding your brain. You tried your best to remember the lowest points during your relationship with her but nothing came to mind.

Only her gentle hands, soft eyes, and warm kisses.

You scrunched your eyes shut, you couldn’t believe yourself. You were dating another woman, a woman who loved you dearly, and yet here you were, almost ready to admit your love for someone else, for your ex. Could you be any more pathetic?

“Ellie. I think you should stop cal—“

“Baby?”

Your thumb jammed against the end button so quickly your phone slipped out of your hand and fell on the floor with a loud clatter.

Abby peeked her head into the door, her long blonde braid loose from a long shift at the hospital and quick after work gym session. “You’re still up?”

“Uh—yeah, couldn’t sleep.” You lied.

She took in your form, a suggestive smile playing on her lips.

Your heart raced as she approached the bed and leaned down to kiss your cheek, your entire body tensed.

“Looks like somebody missed me.” She nodded at your discarded vibrator, practically mocking you from its place on your sheets.