#valedovi

When Dovi was younger she had run in parallel circles to dozens of other girls in circuit racing and MX, even if they hadn’t ever spoken a word to each other before becoming teammates Dovi felt like she had spent half her life tripping over Casey. She had been a consistent fixture in Dovi's life since she had arrived in Europe. Racing in all the same series, she hadn't been just another girl but another fast girl. Fast enough that everyone had sat up and taken notice.

There was a mix of attitudes about them being there, if it was good or bad for the DNA of the sport. Mostly, they were relegated to the role of Rossi fan girls with too much enthusiasm to emulate their heroine and not enough sense to keep it off track and out of the way of the serious competitors (boys). Privately, Dovi thought that Valentina Rossi was a cruel yardstick to hold yourself to. 

It turns out Casey wasn't much better.

And now she's gone.

Dovi accepts another beer from the pretty bartender with a smile. She's too comfortable behind the bar to be new, but definitely wasn't working here the last time Dovi was in Valencia. Distracted, she watches a strand of blonde hair fall out of her bun and considers asking what time she gets off at. She keeps glancing back at Dovi, her dark eyes sparkling. It's an easy decision.

Rossi slips into the empty space at the bar by Dovi's elbow. Their shoulders brushing as if it was the kind of club in Ibiza that Valentina frequented and Dovi wouldn't even be allowed in the line, and not a tiny half-empty dyke bar. She leans against the bar, arms tucked under her non-existent tits like she's got anything to push up, as she orders in Italian. Flashing a winning smile to the pretty blonde behind the counter when she rolls her eyes before going to pour Valentina's drink.

Dovi's never seen her here before, although there is a faded and blurry picture of two girls —both bleach blonde and supporting grown out buzz cuts— dancing together stuck on the wall that she's been told is Valentina Rossi. She hadn't believed it, not because she ever thought Rossi was straight, Dovi had eyes, but mostly because a half-empty dive bar had seemed too small for her. It's not the first time she's been wrong.

"Come here often?"

She almost chokes on her beer, not expecting Rossi to actually break the polite fiction of anonymity. The carbonation fizzes in her sinuses unpleasantly as Dovi swallows a wet cough.

"What?"

"It's a genuine question," she pouts like Dovi is ruining her fun.

And that at least makes some sense. Valentina had barely finished in the points this afternoon, but tomorrow she's back on a championship winning bike and Dovi will be in her place. Scrapping for points on a un-competitive bike.

Dovi wonders if she should be flattered that Valentina apparently thinks highly enough of her to bother rubbing salt in the wound.

"Maybe if you buy me a drink first."

Valentina grins down at her as she flags down the bartender like she's not already heading their way with a luridly colourful glass rimmed with sugar in hand. She starts to orders in Italian again before deciding that she's not letting Dovi waste her money on sub-par beer and orders for her.

It's easy to drink with Valentina, and even easier to talk with her when she leans into Dovi. Being the sole focus of her attention is…a lot, and Dovi would be hard pressed to remember a conversation where anyone seemed so interested in her. The hand that tucks itself into her back pocket as they talk about nothing in particular is so natural that she doesn't even notice until Vale finishes off Dovi's drink for her and asks if she has to piss too while squeezing her ass.

"Sure," she looks her up and down, trying not to smile when Vale visibly preens under the attention, "lead the way."

She's a little surprised that Vale doesn't even try to untangle herself, instead keeping Dovi tucked under her arm until the door to the bathroom swings shut behind them. As soon as the door is closed Vale presses her against it, leaning down to kiss her. Dovi's never gone for other butches, has always preferred her girls more feminine. But the way Vale cages her against the door as she dominates the kiss might be convincing Dovi to give it a chance.

It's easy to let Vale lead, and Dovi is surprised to find she likes it. To let herself feel and react instead of thinking. Likes it a lot more then she thought she would. Dovi lets Vale lead her by the loops on her jeans back towards the sink. Swallowing the little "bene" she mumbles against Dovi's lips when she pushes herself up and onto the ledge of the sinks so Vale can unfold to her full height.

When she strips off her sports bra, dropping it to join her thin white tank-top where it's already been discarded in the sink, Dovi realizes she doesn't even know if the door is locked. And she doesn't really care. Not compared to Vale's lips on the side of her neck and her cold fingers skimming over her ribs. Teasing Dovi until she whines, needy and so unlike herself. Vale rewards Dovi by rolling one nipple between two callused fingers as she dips down to suck the other into her mouth. She can feel Vale grin against the skin of her breast but that doesn't stop her from arching into Vale's mouth. Dovi contents herself with pulling on Vale's hair instead, letting her nails scrap against the back of Vale's neck as she goes before curling her fingers at the crown of her head.

Vale gasps then bites down in retaliation.

Dovi's hips buck up against her, searching for something to grind against. The pain spurring her on even as it disappears under the soothing heat of Vale's tongue. And after that, losing her jeans is even easier. So is letting Vale crowd her back against the mirror, the glass icy against Dovi's bare skin.

When she pulls back, the world spins around Dovi like she's highsided. She doesn't give Dovi any time to be shy about the fact that she's got nothing on underneath them but her harness. Even if she had boxers on it wouldn't have mattered, not when she's this wet before Vale's even got a hand on her clit.

"Did I ruin your plans for tonight?"

"Vale, please."

Dovi is close to begging as the cheap laminate cuts into her stomach as Vale's hips press against her bare ass.

"Do you even know how to use this? How to fuck girls until they cum on your dick?"

Her fingers hook underneath the leather straps and Vale pulls Dovi back against her. It forces Dovi up and onto her toes, as she tries to push back against Vale as she grinds against her ass.

"You can tell me Andrea," she says her name properly —the Italian way— "Do you know how to fuck like a boy?"

Dovi shakes her head. And in the mirror, Vale stands behind her fully dressed. All Dovi has on is her white socks still tucked into her equally white Nikes. The blush on her cheeks has spilled over and is creeping down her chest, it's the only thing Dovi's got left to cover herself as the hand on her back pushes her down until she's bent in half over the sink, leaving her exposed to Vale's eyes as she spreads her cheeks.

She holds her open so she can see the way her holes flutter. There's want written in every line of her body as Vale thumbs over her asshole before pressing down to test the give. Dovi has to bite back a moan when she spits on her hole. She can see Valentina watching in the mirror, her eyes following the path Dovi feels on her skin, how her saliva lands hot and thick before it slides over the tight furl of Dovi's ass and drips down between the lips of her cunt.

Dovi doesn't know if she's even been this wet in her life.

Valentina doesn't care. When she finally touches Dovi's cunt —dripping wet, enough to soak her thighs— its just to wet her fingers. She parts her lips, trace over the entrance to Dovi's cunt just so that her fingers are slick when she presses on the rim of her hole. Her cunt throbs between her legs as Vale's finger slides in. It's easy with Vale's spit and her slick easing the press of her finger. The sudden stretch of it aches, and both her holes clench down. Dovi tries to bury her moan in the meat of her arm, but her hips rocking back into Vale's hand speaks for her.

She fingers her, working her open until Dovi's hole is soft and pliable under Vale's fingers. Her hole flutters around nothing, and she's never felt so empty in her life. When Vale fucks back in, it its with two fingers. Dovi doesn't even try to quiet her moan as she arches up into Vale, her cunt dripping untouched between her legs at the stretch.

Her right hand is curled around the strap of Dovi's harness as her left pistons in and out of Dovi's hole, fucking her like she's a real boy. Just like Vale promised she would. She spits again, but instead of letting it drip down useless over her cunt she fucks it inside Dovi. Then does it again, and again, until both her holes are dripping wet.

The fly of Vale's jeans presses against her cunt as Vale grinds against her. She hisses at the rough press of denim against her clit as Vale fucks into her, scissoring her fingers in a way Dovi knows she'll be feeling on the bike tomorrow but she can't bring herself to care.

"You're so fucking wet" Vale pants in her ear, and she's just as desperate to get off as Dovi is, "Almost like you're a girl."

It hits her like ton of bricks. And she cums. Thighs shaking as her empty cunt clenches around nothing and her hole spasms around Vale's fingers trying to suck her in deeper. Vale's right hand is clumsy as she rubs over Dovi's neglected clit, but she's gotten off to worse. It's enough to work her through it and Vale doesn't stop until Dovi's stomach visibly jumps as she brushes over her clit.

Dovi's lets her head drop between her elbows where they're braced against the sinks as she tries to catch her breath. There's a puddle on the floor between Dovi's feet, and her Nikes are covered in little splashes. So are the front of Vale's jeans. Which is new. Thankfully her tank top is still in the sink, but not her sports bra. But all Dovi can bring herself to feel is grateful that Vale somehow managed to get her jeans off without taking her shoes off, even as she struggles to pull them back on.

Vale is leaning against the sinks, watching Dovi struggle with her jeans as she fumbles with her lighter. Dovi pauses with the fly of her jeans still open and her bush on display and the words 'pretty girls don't light their own cigarettes' on the tip of her tongue by habit, when she sees it's her own shitty gas station lighter —the one she accidental smuggled through airport security coming back from Australia— in Vale's hand.

So she leaves Vale to struggle with it, turnabout is fair play.

Dovi still takes a drag when Vale offers it to her. Savouring the taste as she exhales.