#elconfick

Her lab coat’s covered in ash, singed at the edges. She’s coughing, short of breath.

She barely notices Elke, her attention solely on the burning building.

Even at this distance Elke can feel the heat lick at her skin. When Confick reaches towards the flames, hand shaky, Elke jumps and pulls her back.

Confick finally acknowledges her as they touch. She half turns to Elke, eyes wide. Her gaze never fully leaves her workshop.

Flames reflect in her eyes like a mirror, and for a moment, it looks mesmerising.

“Let go,” Confick says finally. She tries to pull out of Elke’s hold before coughing violently. The smoke is still stuck in her lungs like a bad dream.

Elke only tightens her hold. Confick is desperate, but so is she.

“We have to go,” she pleads, “They’ll be here any minute.”

“No- I- I have to—“

It’s not hard to stop Confick from running back inside. Scientists were never known for their physical strength, and much of what little she had was already lost in the fire.

“Comeon,” Elke pulls again. In the pause, of Confick stuck within indecision, Elke takes her hand in a manner too gentle for their current urgency.

Confick follows without much resistance, now.

Past the roaming eyes of the city, they find themselves in an unassuming alleyway. A broken neon sign indicates an inn of some kind.

Elke looks at Confick’s tired form, at the busy night street. She’ll have to take a chance.

It’s a rundown place, but it’d have to do. Surprisingly, the room has a bathtub.

Elke nudges Confick towards the bathroom. “You should wash up.”

Confick doesn’t reply. For a moment Elke thinks she’ll be ignored entirely, but Confick exhales. “Fine.”

Elke leaves her to it. Or, she tries to, until she starts getting antsy. Only ten minutes passes, but the bathroom was much too quiet.

She knocks on the door, once, twice. No answer. Elke mumbles a silent apology then opens the door in a hurry. Beyond the door—

Is Confick. Confick is fine.

She sits in the tub, despondent. Eyes closed. Something about her feels so far away somehow.

The click of the door alerts Confick of Elke’s presence. She hums in acknowledgement, not looking up.

Elke isn’t sure what overcomes her, but words escape her quicker than she’s able to think.

“Can I wash your hair?”

Confick finally opens her eyes. Looks straight through Elke like she could see the way her intestines twist and her heart beat.

She seems to consider it for a moment, then nods. It was barely there, but it was something.

Elke moves a stool behind the tub. Rolls up her sleeve.

It was a strange sight. It felt like only yesterday when Elke sat behind Confick in class and paid more attention to her than the professor. And now she has her hands in her hair, so close, it feels unreal.

Elke gently combs through each strand. Rubs the mystery shampoo-conditioner concoction in, and sorts through knots like she was undoing braided lace. Not a sound comes from Confick the entire time.

When was the last time Elke had been this close to someone? Not since—

Soapy suds escape into the bathroom drain as Elke points the shower head at Confick’s hair. It’s only as she stands to place the shower head away does she notice how wet her clothes have gotten. She’d have to take those off.

It must be the residual fire on her skin that makes her continue to say things she would never say. Because Elke places a hand on the side of the tub, and catches Confick’s attention.

“Can I—“ she pauses. It’s hard to form the question. CorTech might find them any moment, yet Elke was trying to take advantage of whatever this is.

Confick shuffles her legs to the side ever so slightly.

There’s room now, and Elke feels dizzy.

With wet clothes left on the stool in a messy heap, she joins her.

The two of them barely fit. Confick’s legs touch Elke’s, and the water feels much hotter than it really is.

Elke isn’t sure where to rest her eyes, finally deciding to simply glance at Confick’s face. She’s quiet, looking at the grout in the tiled walls. It was weird to see her hair wet. There’s bruises on her neck.

Time doesn’t seem to pass. Even as the water cooled beyond lukewarm, as Elke’s fingertips pruned. Quiet, just like they were back in their classroom, and Confick had no idea who she was.

Elke almost slips when she climbs out the tub, legs numb. It takes her pulling at Confick again to get her out of there, too.

There isn’t much choice in the bedroom. Just a single bed between the two of them. Confick doesn’t protest. But Elke never expected her to.

When they lay side by side like packed sardines Confick lets her with no complaints. Elke almost wishes she did, just to hear her say something. If only to hear there’s life in her voice.

In the dead of night, Elke sneaks a look at Confick. Her eyes are shut and her breathing is shallow.

Finally being able to rest, Elke lets the events of the day run by her. It’s been three years since graduation, since Elke saw Confick in person. She never changed, no matter how tired she sounded over the phone.

Elke can’t be the best ending. If Confick asks how she found her, she’d have no better answer than ‘I’ve had you in my mind for years’. But that’s left unsaid, buried, and Elke was the same anyways. It’s better not to ask.

It’s hard to say what’ll happen tomorrow. Elke might wake up in the morning to the same pristine bedroom and that girl’s gentle smile, or CorTech’ll have banged down the door.

They can talk about it all tomorrow.

For tonight, Elke closes her eyes and leans ever so slightly into Confick’s space. Focuses solely on the heat from her.

She tries to stay awake, really. It’s not often that Confick feels bothered to cook, and while Elke didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, she had looked forward to finally eating her cooking again. 

But the fever induced fog forces her eyes shut, so she lets it take her.

When Elke awakens, it’s dark outside. She blinks awake from one of those sleeps that makes her feel as if she’s been transported into another century. 

Her body still feels hot and heavy, but the room was no longer spinning at least. 

She turns, and sees the bed next to her empty. 

The feeling that strikes her isn’t disappointment, per se. It’s nothing about what Confick has or has not done. Rather, in some deeper part of herself that she refused to speak out loud, there was a desire to see something familiar next to her side. 

But it didn’t matter, and Elke knew better than to set those expectations. 

She squeezes her eyes shut, trying to go back to sleep. The sooner she can fall back asleep, the sooner she’ll feel better. 

It takes a moment, her senses dulled, but a sweet smell catches her attention. Elke looks towards the bedside table. Blinking at the mug that sits there, she slowly shifts into a sitting position.

Within the mug is a familiar liquid. 

Really, it has to be the fever making Elke’s head feel funny, has to be that and nothing else, but something unnameable bubbles in Elke’s chest. Almost makes her sniffle.

It’s the cheap, instant stuff. Shitty hot chocolate that barely tastes like anything. Elke is never patient enough to melt the clumps formed by the water and powder. But Confick was always more meticulous with the way she stirred, and the drink in front of Elke was smooth. 

She carefully brings the mug to her lips and drinks it with slow sips.

In the other room, beyond the wall between them, Confick must be sleeping on the sofa. If Elke calls out to her now, there was no way she would come. 

Elke pulls away from Confick's neck with a sigh, sitting upright on her thigh. To no surprise, Confick's face is blank—but is a little flushed. That's something, at least.

She moves her fingers lower, slides them through Confick's wet folds before dipping the tip of her finger into her hole. Her insides are soft and warm, her walls fluttering.

"Did you already come?" Elke asks, smiling wryly when Confick nods. Typical—Elke couldn't tell at all.

"Then," she removes her hand and grinds down on Confick's leg again, "do you mind helping me out a little?"

Confick sighs, put-upon. She moves her leg, pushes back against Elke's grinding just the tiniest bit. It's not enough—not nearly—but it's more than Elke was expecting. Seems she caught Confick in a giving mood.

Elke decides to push her luck. "Actually, can you lie on your side?"

Confick's expression doesn't change, but somehow Elke can still tell she's being judged. "You're sitting on my leg."

With a huff, Elke lifts herself onto her knees. She's fully prepared for Confick to continue lying flat on her back, but to her surprise she actually does as she's asked and rolls onto her side. Her knee nearly catches Elke in the ribs; she just barely manages to catch her leg in time to avoid getting hit, shifting it to rest on her shoulder.

Elke shuffles forward on her knees until her cunt is hovering right over Confick's. She looks at her face; it's blank as ever.

"This is okay, right?"

"Do whatever," Confick says. It's the standard response; she'll let Elke do whatever she wants, as long as what she wants doesn't involve any work on Confick's part.

How funny. She acts like she's doing Elke a favor—and she is, but at the same time…

It's not like Confick's not getting anything out of it, either.

Elke lowers herself so their cunts slide together. It takes a few tries, but eventually she manages to angle herself so their clits bump against each other. She moves her hips in little circles, shudders every time her clit grinds against Confick's. It feels good—but even better is the view of Confick's flush darkening.

"Does it feel good?" She asks, knowing she won't get a response. Confick isn't especially talkative at the best of times and she's even more taciturn during sex—unless Elke manages to catch her while she's brainstorming fixes for a coding error. Then she'll keep right on talking to herself, during.

Elke likes those times the best.

This is nice in it's own way, though. Confick lying back and letting Elke do whatever she wants to her, letting her use her—it's enough to drive her crazy. She might be able to achieve faster results with a different toy, but she doesn't want fast; she wants Confick.

Elke's first orgasm builds slow and hits hard. She digs her fingers into the flesh just above Confick's knee, pulls her leg against her hard enough that Confick makes a small noise in protest. Even so, she doesn't make any move to shake off Elke's grip, so Elke doesn't loosen it until the waves of her orgasm have passed.

The space between them is wetter now than when she started. Confick's face is even redder, too; some of the extra slick is probably hers. For all Elke knows, she could even have come again.

She starts moving again, starting slow before building to a faster rhythm than before. Confick doesn't protest, doesn't move—but by the time Elke's second orgasm hits, her flush has started creeping down her neck.

Elke pauses for a moment to catch her breath. She's satisfied, could easily stop now—but she knows the chances that she'll get Confick into this position again are unlikely. Better to take advantage of it while she still can.

She trains her eyes on Confick's face as she starts chasing her third orgasm, grinding hard and fast against her. Confick's flush deepens even more, creeps further down her body until it covers her shoulders and part of her chest.

That flush on her breasts is pretty. A reddish-pink that's similar in color to Confick's areolas, her stiff nipples. Idly, Elke reaches town to tweak one—and nearly does a double take when Confick actually makes a sound in response.

She can't quite tell what it was, whether it was a moan or a whine or something else entirely. The sound doesn't repeat when Elke does it again—but there is a sudden increase in the fluid leaking from Confick's cunt, enough that Elke is almost certain she came again.

Elke knows she should stop, should give Confick a moment to recover at least—but knowing that she just came, that this feels as good for her as it does for Elke is enough of a turn-on that she speeds up instead, rubs their clits together more insistently as her own orgasm starts to approach.

Confick's breathing gets heavier. It's a beautiful sound; Elke is torn between continuing to look at Confick's face or closing her eyes so she can focus on the sound of her breathing—when, on the next exhale, Confick lets out a trembling moan.

That's enough for Elke to tip over the edge. She clutches Confick's leg to her again, tilts her face towards it and bites down on Confick's thigh to keep the desperate whine that threatens to escape her inside. It means she hears the sound Confick lets out in response, something halfway between a whimper and a sigh.

It's incredible. Confick is never this responsive. Even though Elke's orgasm is barely finished, she moves again, wanting more, wanting—

"Enough," Confick says. Her voice is rough, trembling and a little wet. When Elke focuses on her face, her eyes are shiny with unshed tears. She isn't quite crying, but it's close.

Holy crap. Elke sways, feeling a little faint.

The sight is so arousing she grinds down again on instinct—only to stop abruptly when Confick honest to god sniffles. "Enough, I said. Stop."

Elke doesn't move immediately. It's only a moment of hesitation, but it's long enough for Confick to tack on a weak please.

Jesus. What the hell did Elke do to her?

Elke pulls back, dropping Confick's leg from her shoulder. It flops limply onto the bed; Elke expects Confick to either stay like that or get up to shower like she usually does, but instead she pulls both her legs up until she's curled into a loose ball, twisting her torso to bury her face in a pillow. Her upper back is just as red as her face and chest had been, and shiny with sweat besides. Her hair sticks to the nape of her neck with it; Elke reaches out a hand to brush it off—

And Confick flinches away from her.

"Are you okay?" Elke asks. She's never seen Confick behave like this before.

Confick grunts, the sound muffled by the pillow. Elke waits patiently for more of a response, some kind of explanation—but when it doesn't come, she hazards a guess.

"How many times did you come?"

Finally, Confick lifts her head from the pillow to pin Elke with a glare. "Seven," she says flatly.

Elke reels. "Seriously?"

Elke stares at the back of Confick's head. She didn't even turn around to look at her when she complimented her work. Even now, she's already turned her face down to her notes.

Wetness pools between Elke's legs. She rubs her thighs together, bites her lip at the shock of pleasure the pressure sends through her.

The rest of the lecture is agony. Elke fidgets in her seat, unable to focus on anything the professor is saying. Her pen hovers over her notebook, but she doesn't write anything down. All she can seem to focus on is Confick's words. Simple, but elegant, running through her head until it's filled with nothing but Confick's voice, her praise, her—

Elke presses a hand flat against her chest. Under her skin, her heart pounds, a rapid thump-ta-thump against her ribs.

She's so wet she thinks the people in the seats next to her can probably smell it.

When the lecture finishes, Elke is out of her seat like a shot. She haphazardly tosses her things into her bag before shoving past the other students still in their seats with a few muttered excuses.

It's a fight not to run once she's in the hall. She speed walks to the bathroom instead, rushes into the first unoccupied stall. She locks the door behind herself, throws her bag onto the floor without caring that it's probably covered in piss, and sits on the toilet without even bothering to pull her skirt down.

Elke spreads her legs and reaches under her skirt. Her underwear is soaked, clinging to her labia. Even just pulling it to the side feels good, a wet drag that has her bite her tongue to keep from making noise.

The sound of people talking, of faucets turning on and off as people wash their hands is muffled by the door but still audible. Elke does her best to stay quiet as she unceremoniously sinks a finger into herself. She's so wet that the slide is easy, sweet pleasure without even the sting of pain to distract her. Her mind is free to run where it will—and it goes, of course, to Confick.

Simple, but elegant. Elke wonders if maybe that is what Confick thinks of her in general. Certainly, anybody would be considered simple compared to Confick's genius. Elke, especially, couldn't hope to compete on the basis of intelligence alone—but perhaps Confick admires that about her.

Would she compliment Elke's work more if she knew of the sleepless nights that fuel it? The hours spent pouring over books, going over the same material that her fellow students seem to absorb without difficulty over and over again—would Confick commend her for it? Would she—

Elke bites down on a groan when her finger bushes against a particularly good spot. She brings her other hand down between her legs as well, rubs clumsy fingers against her clit. It's hard and swollen, almost hot to the touch. She only manages to circle it once, twice, before a moan slips out of her and she realizes she won't be able to stay quiet like this.

Reluctantly, Elke moves her hand away from her clit and places it over her mouth instead. Her fingers are sticky with slick; the smell of it fills her nose, makes her dizzy.

It's pathetic, really. She was so desperate she couldn't even wait until she got home, couldn't curl up in the dark of her apartment and slip her hand between her legs the way she usually does—she had to do this here, in a public bathroom, where anybody could hear her.

If Confick knew she was doing this, she'd think Elke was disgusting.

Elke groans at the thought, the sound thankfully muffled behind her hand, and sinks a second finger into herself. She twists her wrist—the angle is slightly awkward, hurts a little, but it's all worth it when she thumbs at her clit as she thrusts her fingers in and out. The pleasure is so intense she nearly squeals, has to bite her tongue to keep the sound in even with her hand over her mouth.

Simple, but elegant. Pathetic. Disgusting.

Confick's voice fills her head, her ears. Things she's heard her say before and things she hasn't, but can imagine. Good girl. Freak. Simple, but elegant.

Elke hunches forward as her orgasm tears through her. Her hips jerk forward even as her hand falters, her rhythm becoming sloppy. Her eyes roll back, then slip closed. She keeps her hand clamped over her mouth to keep any of the myriad desperate noises trying to tear their way free of her contained. Her lungs burn, her extremities tingle, her head swims—

And then, with one final messy thrust of her fingers, it's over. The last of the aftershocks brings a sort of calm with it, an inexplicable serenity. Elke removes her fingers from her insides and wipes them on a sheet of toilet paper, then wipes the fingers of her other hand and her sticky chin. Once she's relatively clean, she puts her clothes in order.