Chapter Text
It was one of those nights that puts a positive spin on the phrase 'perfect storm'. You know the ones, if you've ever lived in a town like Haven. Storm brews all day. Temperature drops in the late afternoon. The wind picks up, and the rain starts to fall. It's only a drizzle right now, but it's ice cold and the thunder is promising more. No tornado warning or anything, but chance of freezing rain is 69%. Nice. That's enough to make one long for another body in their bed.
Okay, I'm being verbose. It's enough to make ME long for another body in my bed, dammit.
But it's a strange feeling when my girlfriend is my neighbor, and I remember that at a particularly sensitive moment, when my phone is in my hand. The messages speak for themselves, I think.
Steph: mungus?
Me: No mungus. Power might go out tonight. Chance of freezing rain 69%
Steph: nice
Me: That's what I said lol
Steph: what's the chance of us 69ing tonight
Me: depends
Steph: on what
Me: on whether you're willing to spend the night
Steph: wait. are you serious. i was joking. fuck
Me: The eve is only getting wetter
Steph: no shit
Me: I'll leave the doors unlocked. I can't be held legally accountable if you slip on the ice and/or rain.
Steph: IT'S TURBO TIME
Me: You're not part of the turbo team. DON'T RUN.
Steph: okay okay give me fifteen minutes
Me: WALK. SLOWLY. <3
I drop my phone onto the couch like a hot potato. I pace around, holding my burning cheeks, reckoning with what I've just done. I look out the window to see if she's coming, but end up looking at my reflection instead. Too late. Well, it's just two girls having a sleepover. Y'know. Gals being pals. It's fine that I'm just wearing pajamas and no makeup, I think to myself over and over. It's fine that my legs haven't seen a razor in a month. It's almost winter. She's a lesbian. It's fine that there are dirty dishes by the sink because there's no room in the sink because it's full of dirty dishes. Steph has ADHD. She gets it.
Less fine, the tissues laying around. Between seasonal allergies and my continually expanding powers, I need them. Emotions waft upstairs from the bar right along with the smell of alcohol. Really confused me when I felt someone overjoyed by a pregnancy. I spent ten minutes trying to solve the moral dilemma at hand: whether to intervene. I spent the next ten minutes after that feeling stupid, because it was their sister's pregnancy and their boozy celebration was fine. Duh. Serves me right for being nosy and stupid. You can be one or the other, but not both.
Anyway, that was about all the cleaning I had the motivation for. It's time to cleanse my soul. It counts as meditation if you try, but your heart beats so loud in your ears that it sounds like EDM, right? And then if your mind is full of thoughts of dancing with Steph, that's called mindfulness. Imagining her sweating it out in front of everyone at a club? Visualization, baby! And you both know guys are looking at her, but she doesn't care and neither do you, because you both know it's all for you? That's at the top of Maslow's hierarchy of needs.
You get the vibe. One track mind. I don't know if it takes fifteen minutes, all I know is that I feel her before I hear her. She starts up the stairs and her aura's bleeding through the door already. What's the color? Fuchsia? Gold? Something like that. It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, and I just awkwardly stand there in front of the door, trying to figure out what to do with my hands. She knocks. I start to tell her to come in, but have to clear my throat.
She walks in anyway, and my jaw drops. She shifts her weight between her feet. Her aura takes on a streak of bluish fear. She's nervous. That makes me feel better. It's not just me.
"Hey, Alex." She does that thing I love where her lips are smiling but her brow is frowning under her hat.
"Hi, Steph. Don't be nervous. You're beautiful." I'm full-on brain-off at this point. There are forces at work beyond my comprehension, and I'm just along for the ride. Gay Jesus take the wheel.
It works, though. Her aura feels warmer. Her brows relax, and she pulls off her hat. "Thanks. Are you as nervous as I am?" She scrunches the hat in her hand so hard her knuckles turn white, but she's really good at maintaining eye contact when she wants to.
"Definitely more."
"Really? That's surprising."
"Yeah. Something tells me tonight will be a night full of firsts for me." Because I can't just admit I'm a virgin, I guess. Probably for the best. The concept of virginity is defunct anyway.
"Firsts for both of us, actually."
I quirk an eyebrow. "No way. You have experience."
"Not with you." She touches my hand. I don't want to say it, she thinks. Please don't make me say it. I don't want to get my hopes up.
I rub her hand in both of mine to warm it up, blushing more and more. "Fair enough."
We both stand there for way too long, looking at each other like a couple of puppies, until we realize what we're doing and laugh. I hug her. She closes the door, and I tell her to drop her stuff wherever. I just happen to be walking closer to the bed. I turn like I'm about to say something but she's sidling closer, and she's wearing that intense expression she has when she's about to do something aggressively gay. She gets all up in my face and I lean in like a sucker, on tiptoes, ready to reciprocate her kiss. She shoves me backwards onto the bed.
I flop on top of the queen, and the queen flops on top of me. I sigh. "Classic Steph."
She looks down at me with a cocky smile. "I know you like it."
"You're psychic."
She doesn't bother trying to keep the banter afloat. Kissing is good. I like kissing. When I'm not glued to her lips, I'm staring at them. She's got her weight on my pelvis, thigh between my legs. She doesn't give me many breaks. I think I'm just getting another one, but this time she stops and doesn't continue, instead holding herself up at an angle.
"What?" I plead. When did I get so whiny?
"Your dry humping is no longer dry," she answers smoothly, pulling up her jean leg to show me.
"Oh." I stare at the undeniable wet patch I'd given her. "I was dry humping?"
"Secret lesbian technique. I put my thigh like this..." She demonstrates, applying a little more pleasure. I mean pressure. "And let her do the rest. Next thing she knows, bam! We're sixty-nining."
"You sound awfully proud. I take it your success rate with this technique is..."
"It's 69%."
"Of course it is." I pause. "Are you really that into sixty-nine?"
She gives a noncommittal head bob. "We don't have to start there."
"But you like it?"
"I've been known to."
"Surprisingly sheepish answer. I'll keep that in mind." I notice her aura take on a slightly more muted tone, though it's just as bright. "What's with that look?" I ask, since she's staring at me.
"Nothing." She just smiles fondly.
"You're really cute and all, but I'm pretty sure your aura just became 15% less horny. I'm going to need you to stick to unwholesome thoughts while your knee is in my crotch."
That wins back her fuckboy grin. "My apologies," she says, staring down at my tits on cue.
"Much better. Now get more naked, please."
"MORE naked."
"Doesn't have to be fully. Yet."
"A little strip tease, huh? I can get down with that." Steph stands up and starts removing layers while I watch. Her hoodie, her belt, her pants, and her shirt drop to the ground one by one. She gives a little shiver. "Let me back on the bed so I can take my socks off."
"What, you don't keep your socks on for suhh--I mean, bed?"
"Honey, I'll do literally whatever you want. I'm a service top." She shoos me to make room for her.
"Socks are optional, I guess." I scooch.
"Good. I hate when girls are weird about it. Like. They're just feet. Get over it. Most of us have them," she explains while removing her optional socks.
I notice her toenails are painted, unlike her fingernails. I wonder why, but not enough to ask. By some miracle, our lips meet again. She caresses my boobs so lightly you'd think she was afraid of breaking them. I put my hand on hers and squeeze. She gets the hint. It hurts a little when she pinches my nipple. I let her do it anyway and touch her back.
"Aren't I a service top?" I ask myself eventually.
"That's fine," Steph says, still feeling me up. "I was joking, anyway. I'm more of a verse."
"Cause there are two of you."
"No."
"Not even a titter? Tough sub." She cackles. "Of course that's what gets the laugh with you. You're old and predictable."
"It was just so perfectly timed," she says, moving one hand from my bosom to wipe a tear.
"I've got good rhythm." I pluck the hem of her underwear with four fingers to demonstrate, counting the sixteenth notes aloud. "One, e, and, a, two, e, and, a, three, e, and, a, four."
She nods, unironically impressed. "Not bad for a guitarist. I did always assume you knew how to finger a fretboard."
"I looked at you and thought, 'She can probably find the G-string'."
"You had me at 'dude, wear's my peg'."
"How about the time I turned to you, looked you dead in the eye, and said, 'give me a ride'."
"I remember. Damn near gave me a heart attack."
"I know. I could feel it." I wince. Let that one out all too easy.
"Right. Because that's a thing you can do," she says. Oh god. I know she's thinking it. Here it comes. "So when I feel good, you feel good too?" I nod. "Like, not just emotionally. Physically."
I give a tic at her specification. "Not sure."
"I guess we'll find out together, then."
"You don't think it's weird?"
Her eyes light up. "No! It's cool as heck! Your power is just another aspect of you that makes you unique. And it makes being around you a blast, to be quite frank. Like how I don't even need to say what I want. Like, here." She hurriedly throws off her bra. "Touch my more sensitive nipple."
I mouth several silent interjections before I accept that she isn't joking. She kneels in front of me, leaning forward to proffer her chest, eyes closed. I can't help but hear it. She's practically screaming the answer in her head. I touch her left, my right.
"YES!" Her eyes shoot open. "Told you. Without telling you. Oh my god. This is so great. Do you get how great this is for me?"
She's beaming a brilliant smile and aura combination at me when the lights cut out.
"Ooooh. I can't see a thing." She's still smiling in the darkness. How do I know that?
"I can see you," I say, reveling in that knowledge.
"Neat?"
"No." I blink as though that proves it's not an illusion. "I can REALLY see you. Like...really, really. For the first time. Ever."
"Oh." She falls silent, but her aura swirls in a complex array of colors, faintly illuminating her in her surroundings like strobe lights. "What do you see?"
I shake my head. "I can't explain it right now. It's just...wow. It's everything."
"Everything?"
"Your everything. My everything." I pull her closer. "The only everything I need right now."
"Okay." Her voice is unusually shaky.
"I don't know what I'm doing," I warn her frankly.
"Kinda think you do."
I see a patch of blue on her collarbone that needs kissing. What's a girl to do? She holds her chin up, thinking about finally getting out of her underwear. My hands are already working on it. She makes it easy. She thinks it's such a shame my tongue isn't down her throat. I quickly learn how far I can extend it. She moans, and somewhere the vibrations get translated into my hand between her legs.
Her hand darts to cover mine. She's tense and panting.
I tut. "I told you I don't know what I'm doing. I let you take control and you got overwhelmed. Are you ready to try going slow this time?"
She nods, though she needn't.
I get the feeling she might like it if I touch her inner thighs. I do. But, when I get the same feeling that she'd like it if I massage her inner thighs, I decide we've lost the plot.
"You know I have a will of my own, right?" Her eagerness gets tinged with guilt. "If I do exactly what you tell me at all times, that's just masturbation with extra steps."
"Not rea--"
"Silence, please." Where did that come from? Well, it was satisfying to see her mouth snap shut, at least. "Good girl." She burrows under the covers and holds them open for me. "How sweet." I get in, of course. She's ten different kinds of hot. I sit with my back to the headrest, supported by a pile of pillows. She sits in front of me between my legs. I kiss her neck to let her bask in the moment for a while. She doesn't need to be bored, per se, but she needs to be pliant. What a strange thing, considering she's the one telling me what to do.
She relaxes and my left hand brushes her clit. Her aura's sent wheeling, so my hand hovers. "It's okay, baby. Take your time." Isn't she older than me? Well, you're never too old to have your hair played with. I give her light kisses all over the side of her face. Those were for me. I see little specks of lights dancing where my lips touch her every time I pull away to look. It's so pretty that I almost don't want to stop. I certainly don't mind nibbling her ear, though that was her idea. I'm not sure by whose impulse I decide to put my fingers inside her, but I do.
She moans, and I accidentally moan too. Our voices harmonize a minor third. We both laugh. I start to realize why she wanted to know if I could feel her physical sensations. The answer, it turns out, is: some of them.
I find myself gently circling my? No, definitely her clit, with the guitar-calloused tip of my middle finger. I find myself nibbling places I didn't expect to. What I don't find is that her needs are all that complicated. Her mind's going pretty blank. Am I fucking her silly? Oh my. Well, at least I know what to do from here on out, roughly speaking. I decide to say the quiet part loud: "I'll just keep you wrapped around my finger and feeling good..."
A humorous yellow flashes through Steph's aura, but it quickly returns to its more lascivious mix. Lots of pink, for some reason. And it keeps getting brighter. She touches my forearm as though trying to anchor herself, and I hear a single thought radiating from her: Don't stop. Over and over.
"Don't worry," I whisper, about to send her over the edge. "I won't."
I realize I haven't been doing enough kegels or something. I learn what the inside of a vagina tastes like. I leave a five star review on yelp. I've got her in my arms, in my bed, and I'm holding her like she has somewhere to go. I'm kissing her like I'm afraid she'll leave. I'm pleasing her as if to earn her love, though I know I already have it. How could I not know? She's been screaming it at me with her body for half an hour. No, an hour. Did I say an hour? I meant two. She's dehydrated. The sheets are not. The covers have long since been thrown to the foot of the bed. I stand up and tentatively suggest we take a break. She whines her consent into my pillow with her ass in the air. I smack it and say, "Atta girl," then bring her a glass of water. I go to the sink to get more while she stumbles to the bathroom naked, using her phone to light her way. I stare at her until the water overflows. Her aura formed a sparkling orange hand print on her ass cheek. I smile as I sip the water, which makes some of it drip onto my cheeks. I wipe my mouth on my shirtsleeve and wait for her in bed.
She hops on and goes, "I just have to say that when you said 'take a break' and not 'stop,' that was the happiest I've ever been in my gay little life."
I eye her skeptically. "I don't know. I think we can go happier."
"Don't make me too happy. If we break up, it's gonna suck to go back to sex with normies." She kisses my nose.
"That sort of thought goes pretty quiet when you're about to cum," I say. "It's all just More. Don't Stop. Oh, fuck, she's good at this." I can tell she's blushing though I can't see it. I laugh.
"Well, I. You. I mean." She scoffs repeatedly. "You just wait until I eat your pussy. Then we'll see who's laughing."
I'm supine in a heartbeat and my legs are spread. "I'm waiting." It's every bit as good as she promised. The lights come back on, and I see her glistening chin pop out from behind my pubes, eyes pointed down, not up. "What?" I ask, lifting my head off the pillow.
"Don't mind me, just admiring your pussy. Couldn't really see it before. It's lovely."
I drop my head back onto the pillow and smile. I tell her I like the thing she did with her tongue that one time. She tries something, and I say, "No, the other thing." She gets it right that time, and the sound I make isn't sexy. She doesn't care. Or maybe she thinks it is sexy. Either way, she keeps doing it, even though I can feel her tongue burning. I'm flattered and a little turned on that she would endure some pain for my pleasure. She puts her thumb on my asshole when I cum because she likes to feel the contractions. I don't mind, but I still call her a horny freak. She sticks her tongue out inside me. I compliment her on a job well done and inform her that my cervix has never been cleaner. I fall asleep as the big spoon with my hand on her crotch. She puts her hand over mine and tries to make herself cum without waking me up. It doesn't work, so I finger her myself and we fall back asleep together.
The next morning it's wake and bake, continental breakfast, and sticky kisses. She even puts her dick inside me. Didn't know she had one of those. She's trying to kiss me goodbye an hour later, and I complain. "Why'd you save that for the very end?"
"You know why," she says, accurately.
"You can't go now. I'm twitching. Take responsibility for your actions."
"I will." She shoves her hat back onto her head before kissing me again. Her head is swirling, but I let her keep her thoughts for herself this time. She gropes my butt and surprises me. "I love you."
I think about saying it back, but she's already through the door and I'm poking my head out along with two razor sharp nipples to watch her go. I whisper it into the chilly wind even though she won't hear. I go upstairs to be a starfish for a while.
She comes over every afternoon for the rest of the week. My landlord isn't a dick about it. If the bar's still open, we blast Screaming Females to cover the sound of screaming females. Wouldn't want anyone to think we're gay.