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She's soaked to the bone and naked from the waist up. The rain soothes her bruised and bitten skin, washes the sweat from her. The scent of petrichor and wet asphalt can't mask the heady musk of sex that clings to them as they round on a battered service door flanking the aquarium. Ellie is clinging to her like a child, or perhaps a sex-crazed maniac, and Abby can't quite find it in herself to care about the optics of it.
She raps the seven-beat knock of entry on the rusted metal of the door while Ellie licks the rainwater dripping from her clavicle. It takes two more repetitions before the door rattles open.
Owen is on the other side, looking frazzled and worried and grateful. "Abby!" He says, then his eyes slide to Ellie and his face bunches up in confusion. Ellie bares her teeth, snarls.
Abby can only offer a shrug at Owen's bewildered look. She wants to explain the whole thing away. She wants to understand it. With the minuscule resolve she had left she had dragged herself and Ellie here, and she needs that to be enough.
Ellie pushes Abby by her shoulder-blades through the door. Owen moves abruptly to avoid skin contact. Abby is aware of him locking the door, but more aware of the way Ellie's nails dig into her shoulders and her mouth presses into hers. More aware of their breasts against each other, Ellie pushing to get one of Abby's thighs between her legs.
Owen says, "Oh! Uh, Abby-"
Ellie's mouth separates from Abby's just long enough to whine, "you promised if I came with you you'd let me ride your face." And Abby does remember that, does remember begging Ellie that they needed to go, they had to move, please, please, don't stop-
So Abby goes to her knees easily, with only the slightest push, and presses her face to Ellie's crotch and lets herself want all the things she was desperately suppressing in order to make it all the way here.
Ellies hands coil into Abby's hair, tight, and her voice is pinched when she says, "take them off."
They hadn’t bothered with anything as difficult as belts when dressing, and all Abby has to do is get her hands around the waistband, apply a little pressure, and it's Ellie, Ellie, Ellie. She's glistening wet, arousal dampening her pubic hair. Her vulva is flush, erect. Her hips jut out to meet Abby's face and Abby can't help nuzzling into the heat of it. Breathing in the musky scent and reveling in the softness of the skin against her nose, mouth.
"Abby," Ellie says, and it's more a command than anything, so Abby opens her mouth and slides her tongue through the gathered slick.
Faintly she hears Owen say, "Oh! Uh, okay, I'm going to-" but it's lost in the possessive purr of Ellie's growling.
Abby knows this, knows the heat radiating from Ellie's vulva and the tight grip of Ellie's hand fisted in her hair. Knows the tangy, salty taste and the viscous liquid coating her mouth. She knows when to flatten her tongue and let Ellie guide her, face smarting from the force of Ellie's rutting. Ellie orgasms and she swallows it, desperate to consume and also vaguely aware that she really needs to eat actual food.
She grips into the flesh of Ellie's ass hard enough to hurt, but both she and Ellie have long since lost the ability to feel anything but the firmest touch. She can hardly breath and doesn't care, only cares about burying herself as deep as Ellie will let her go. It’s too much work, too overwhelming, to concern herself with what the implications of all this are. Sex, it turns out, is blessedly easy.
Ellie’s hand in her hair is a sharp pain to compliment the bruising force of her pelvis against Abby’s face. They stay like that a while, or no time at all, and eventually Ellie topples to the ground and Abby can release the kink in her neck by coming at her from a different angle.
When Ellie's done she pulls Abby back, hand still fisted in her hair, and stares at her. Ellie looks powerful, savage, hungry. She smiles and there's only the faintest softness behind the craving. "Do you want?" Ellie asks, and it's not even a question.
-
Ellie arches back into the heat spooning her as she wakes. Her neck and shoulders are stiff as fuck- she grunts as she rolls the muscles out. The skin on her forearms and knees have been rubbed raw. Yeah, all this makes sense. But something isn't quite right- her eyes blink open in bewilderment even as she reaches to cup between her legs.
The skin there is inflamed and tender to the touch, dry, sticky, and- unaroused. Ellie flips over to face Abby. They've been sleeping on a pile of novelty towels on the aquarium floor, and without the heat and urgency of the flowers, it doesn't feel great. Abby rumbles in discontent as Ellie shifts, then opens her eyes. Her hips stretch into Ellie unconsciously, and Ellie tracks her eyes as Abby realizes that arousal has left them.
Her eyes are such a stark blue, like the sky in the middle of winter. Abby's throat is thoroughly bruised. Ellie notices as she watches Abby swallow. Abby disentangles herself gingerly, as if Ellie is a feral dog. She supposes she is something like that.
Abby dresses in the clothes Owen brought in- when was that? Some time ago. She moves cagily, wary eyes never leaving Ellie. She winces with each movement. Even though Ellie no longer hungers, she is sorry to see the bruises and scratches disappear behind a novelty shirt and cargo shorts. Sorry to see the marks that connected her to Abby vanish, as if they had never known each other. She's not ready to stop knowing Abby, she realizes. Which is fucked, because it's time for Abby to stop being.
"Your people are probably waiting for you," Abby says stiffly, and Ellie realizes that Abby wants this all to be over. She sits upright, unabashed in her nakedness. When Abby averts her eyes, Ellie feels a pang of hurt.
"I know," she says, but she can’t convince herself to move.
"I'm not gonna fight you," Abby says to the wall. "You should just- go."
Ellie stands unsteadily. "I don't want to."
Abby stiffens, and her face sets angrily. "It's over. Get out of here."
Ellie’s body feels like the scraped out hollow of a jack o lantern. She has the terrified sense that nothing can satisfy her any longer. She casts her mind to Dina, and Jesse, and Tommy, and knows she wants them safe, but can't quite find it in her to go back to them. To leave this unfinished thing behind.
Ellie stoops and begins dressing in the gifted clothes. "You owe me," she says.
Abby's mouth twists into a grimace. "Haven't we done enough for each other?"
The fabric of her new t-shirt is coarse against her oversensitive skin. Ellie fights the urge to whip it back off. She steps after Abby fearlessly. "I mean," she says, "you killed him. And I'm going to make you pay."
Abby whirls on her. Her eyes are wide, incredulous. "You really want to fight me." She pauses. "Here?"
Perhaps not the smartest of choices. Ellie knows there are at least two people here, and she doesn't know what kind of resources they have. How often other wolves come and go. She's without weapons- shit, practically without clothes- and Abby outweighs her by at least 50 pounds. But as soon as she thinks it she knows that wasn't what she meant. Somewhere in their frenzied fucking killing Abby had become too obvious a solution. She had become entranced with the many sounds that could be coaxed from Abby's throat, the way her hands could spread across Ellie's hips softly or with potent strength. She is drawn to the fragile way Abby's expression seems to break apart every time she comes, as if she doesn't quite believe the sensation belongs to her. She wants the parts of Abby that can't be had by violence: the tender, fragile things that can only be won in affection. She had thought too small in hunting Abby down to kill. Killing was only the last part of the puzzle, the last thing to know about this girl who had taken everything from her.
Somewhere in that time Abby had ceased to be a monster and started to become a person, and Ellie couldn't let her go until she understood where the line had been crossed.
"I don't want to fight you," Ellie promises. "Yet." She fiddles with the hem of her too-itchy shirt. "But I'm not going anywhere."
Abby holds her gaze for a long moment. The staring match of two equally willed, obstinate people. Abby breaks first- of course she does. She listens too well to command someone who doesn't want to be commanded. She turns brusquely and leaves the office they'd been staying in. Ellie can't quite remember how they got there, but the hallways are vaguely familiar as she follows.
Owen and the woman are up past a set of stairs in the main atrium, in a cozily furnished living space. They turn in surprise when Abby and Ellie enter. Ellie does not miss the open hostility on their faces.
"What's she still doing here?" The woman asks.
Abby brushes into the room, opening a cupboard and pulling out several small patties wrapped in cloth. She tosses one to Ellie. It's pemmican, studded with fruit. Pemmican is barely edible in bar form but it’s straight fats and protein, exactly what they both need.
"Those are for emergencies," Owen complains.
"We're all AWOL," Abby says. "And unless you have a good excuse for where you've been, we're not going to want to run into the WLF anytime soon."
"The spores."
Abby raises an eyebrow cynically. "Sure, and Danny died by the spores. And Mel and I left the base because of the spores."
The dark haired woman- Mel?- steps in. "Why is she still here?"
Everyone turns to Ellie, munching on her pemmican.
"Shoot her if you want," Abby says dismissively.
-
Owen comes to tell her, with a limp sort of hope, about the sailboat. About Santa Barbara. His eyes trace the bruises on her neck, the marks from Ellie's teeth and nails scored down her arms. She refuses to be embarrassed. Owen was the only man who ever truly saw her as who she was, and he still somehow fell short.
Not that Ellie understood her- except for a small, inconsequential part of her, the way she wants to be desired- and truly, that’s not important enough to make up for all the shit they’ve done to one another.
Owen leaves with the brokenhearted expression of a chastised puppy, and Abby feels a kick in her heart like despair. Her entire life she’s wanted to be something she’s not. Owen more than anyone else believed in her, and now she’s letting him go. She watches him packing up and pretends she’s not because it would only hurt more if he knew.
Ellie comes to her soon after from wherever she’d been. Her gait is painstakingly casual, her expression meticulously mild and open. One dry, callused hand brushes over the painted wall, tracing the salt lake skyline. “Your friend paint all this?” She asks.
Abby's hackles rise. “What are you still doing here?”
It's wrong for Ellie to touch the walls of this room, which is a repurposed office that Abby knows is meant to serve as a guest room for Abby if she ever visited. She could see it in the short stack of books on the desk, the carefully painted mural. Sparrows flock in the sky over temple square. She's never visited, but Owen prepared it for her. It makes her chest hurt to know she doesn't want him the way he deserves.
Ellie's gaze drops to Abby’s hands, which have been mindlessly disassembling and reassembling her pistol. She keeps telling herself she’s getting the hell out of dodge as soon as her weapons are cleaned up. “We have unfinished business,” Ellie says. Her voice is infuriatingly indifferent. Abby lets that sit in the air for a long moment, refusing to be the first to speak. Refusing to talk to Ellie at all.
“Are we going to talk about it?” Abby asks tersely.
Ellie barks a short laugh. “No.”
Abby studies her for a long moment. Ellie’s pale, bruised neck. The drape of her too-large t-shirt, hiding the bony length of her rib cage. Her knobby knees poking out of horrendously sea-themed beach shorts. “Then… why are you still here? What do you want?”
-
Ellie wishes she knew what she wanted. To go back to before the pollen, when her direction was clear. To go back to the pollen, to try and piece together the things she missed. Certainly, to have somehow been the cure and saved all the people she’d ever loved and lost. Not that Abby could help with that one.
As a rule, Ellie doesn’t talk about her feelings. She prefers them deep inside where they can’t bother her or anyone else. There was so much she might have said to Joel and going back she’s not sure she could have. There are things she should say to Dina. Dina always wants to talk about feelings. The topic makes Ellie want to shrivel into herself. “How do you… feel about what happened?”
Abby is silent for a long moment. She continues cleaning her gun. She has a meticulous, efficient way of working. Her hands, despite being so broad, move deftly. “I don’t have sex with women, generally.”
Ellie stiffens. Abby had been so willing, so ardent under her hands. Had it been only the spores that had urged her underneath Ellie? Certainly, Ellie would never have fucked Abby in her right mind. Ellie should be conflicted about what she’d desired under the thrall of the spores, but somehow still it all makes sense in her mind. A new way of capturing Abby. A new way of dismantling her. But despite her intentions, she is sickened at the idea of forcing Abby into that sort of power struggle.
It makes her think of winter. Ellie is a monster, she’ll admit that to herself. But not that kind.
At least she thought.
“But it was… tolerable. Given the circumstances. You were… generous.”
Ellie drags herself back to the present. Abby’s face is flush, her eyes darting askance. “Obviously, I would have preferred if it hadn’t happened. But…” she cleared her throat self consciously. "You had no reason to let me live. Or… Please me."
"I wanted to please you," Ellie interjects, and immediately regrets it. She fumbles with her hands. She drops her eyes to avoid Abby's shocked face. She swallows. She wants a hole to come and swallow her. She wants the cordyceps bunking in her brain to finally off her. Why the fuck is she still here? What does she think she'll gain?
"Okay," Abby says slowly. "And what do you want now?"
Ellie forces her eyes up to meet Abby's. She wants. Maybe it’s the lingering effect of the spores, but then again this doesn’t feel like the spores at all. It’s a distinctly familiar feeling, an intensity of focus that dogs Ellie to make stupid choices she’s helpless to resist. She cannot let Abby die without completely understanding her.
Abby's brows raise. “Oh,” she says quietly. “I thought…'' She sets her gun aside gently. “I mean, the spores have worn off for me. I think.”
Ellie scuttles forward, as if darting covertly across enemy territory. Abby flinches backward at her approach, then stills herself. Ellie halts several feet away. This close to Abby, the soldier's physical prowess is only more evident. Ellie is on dangerous turf.
“It would be better for both of us,” Abby says slowly. “If you went away.”
Ellie’s heart is jackhammering in her chest. She feels lightheaded, and draws a stuttering breath into her lungs. “What do you want?” She asks. Hopes. Her fingers are twitching. She aches to return to the familiar motion of scoring her nails down Abby’s biceps.
Abby's tongue darts out, minutely, to dampen her lips. A strangled sound threatens to claw its way up Ellie’s throat at the sight. Abby glances to the side- towards the door. “Historically, what I want has screwed me over.”
Ellie drops into a crouch. Submissive, but with enough leverage to spring away. “I didn’t ask that.”
Abby leans forward. There’s still so much space between them. Her pupils are dilated, but her face is open. Explorative. “This is never going to work,” she says.
Ellie inches closer. “It only has to work for an afternoon.”
“You have beautiful eyebrows,” Abby admits, and it’s such a bizarre compliment that Ellie laughs. “What?” Abby demands.
“You have beautiful everything,” Ellie reciprocates. “Can I kiss you?”
Abby nods minutely, once, so Ellie closes the distance between them and kisses her. She starts softly, because she’s never done it that way with her before.
The quiet sound of their lips moving together is a stark contrast from their previous encounters. Abby pulls away and Ellie chases her for a second. Their faces are inches apart. Abby’s lips part slightly, and her hot, gentle breath fans over Ellie’s cheeks. “This is a bad idea,” Abby says hoarsely.
“I didn’t ask that.” Ellie runs her hands up Abby’s sides, then slips them underneath Abby’s shirt and repeats herself. The feeling of Abby’s skin, feverish and soft, is so familiar it makes her want to cry with relief. Abby puts a hand to the small of Ellie’s back and pulls her onto her lap. Her mouth goes to the junction of Ellie’s neck and shoulder, mouthing gentle kisses. Her broad, warm hands coast up Ellie’s back.
Ellie grinds perfunctorily, but finds most of her pleasure in running her tongue along the inside of Abby’s mouth. Abby makes sweet noises, quieter than she did while intoxicated. That only drives Ellie harder to uncover them, to pick apart the things that encourage her to moan into Ellie’s mouth. Her breasts fit perfectly in Ellie’s hands. She squeezes them and is rewarded with teeth on her neck.
“What do you like?” Ellie asks, huskily.
Abby’s eyes find her slowly. They’re dark and heavy-lidded with arousal. “I thought you knew.”
Ellie tilts her shoulder, a reticent shrug. “I want to make sure.”
Abby's face flushes cherry-red. “I like when you touch my tits. When you… put your mouth on them.”
Ellie smiles, and surprises herself with how genuine it is. She runs her fingers over the hem of Abby’s shirt, inquiring, and at a shallow nod pulls it over Abby’s head.
Her skin is mottled blue and purple, streaked red where Ellie’s nails have dug in. The impression of Ellie’s teeth still lingers. Abby is so broad, soft where Ellie is boney and tanned where Ellie is pale. Ellie bends and mouths down Abby’s chest, barely grazing with her teeth. An agreeable huff escapes Abby's mouth when Ellie reaches her breasts. Abby tightens her grip on Ellie's back, but it's a tender hold, missing all the urgency of last night. Ellie pulls back. The blue is a faint eclipse in her eyes, and Ellie suddenly misses the clarity she saw there when they woke up. She shunts that desire down deep, because it contradicts all she believes. "Lay down with me," she says. Abby shifts slowly off her desk chair to the floor.
The aquarium floor is cold and hard, but they've fucked in worse places. Abby opens her arms and Ellie crawls into them. They move against each other softly for a long time. Ellies hands roam over Abby's skin, attempting to map out the curves and angles of the soldier who ruined her life. Who is making her life worth living. Ellie could spend the rest of her life learning to understand Abby.
She can't kid herself. She was coasting in Jackson, hoping for a reason for everything she'd failed to do. Dina gave her a purpose, but Dina deserved better. Ellie and Abby were both monsters- they deserved each other.
Ellie fiddles with the button of Abby's shorts. She can feel Abby underneath them. Not as demanding as she'd been the day before, but present. She pulls away just far enough to meet Abby's eyes. There it is: Abby's eyes blink into focus, and meet Ellie's with a clarity that sends a tremor down Ellie's spine. Abby shuffles an arm and puts her fingers to Ellie's waistband. "Okay?" She asks quietly.
"Yeah." Ellie pushes Abby's shorts down, but doesn't go straight for the goods. Instead she takes a handful of Abby's ass. Abby drops her head into Ellie's shoulder and sighs heavily.
"Did it upset you?" She asks. "When you found out I had a-" her voice cuts off.
Ellie traces the line of Abby's pelvis with her fingers. "Why would that upset me?"
The warm body next to her pulls away slightly. "You know why."
Ellie meets her gaze, expression firm. "You're a girl, right?"
Abby's throat bobs. "Yeah."
Ellies hand runs down Abby's arm and interlaces their fingers. It's an action so intimate Abby starts, eyes dropping to stare at their intertwined hands. Ellie is surprised, herself. But it feels warm, right, to touch like this. She's losing her mind. The spores must have done something to her. Muddled her senses. What else could explain the heat in her chest that wanted to comfort the girl beside her?
"And I like girls."
Which didn't account for that fact that obviously there were some girls she should not be attracted to, like murderous psychopaths. But here they were.
"Does it upset you?" Ellie asks back. "Should I not-" she fumbles, trying to work out the logistics. "Touch- or say-"
Abby silences her with a touch. "When you called it my cunt. I liked that. A lot." Her cheeks are dusted pink. "I've never… No one's ever…"
Ellie smiles. "I can work with that." She drops gentle kisses onto the freckles on Abby's shoulder. Abby grabs a handful of Ellie's shirt.
“Take it off.”
Abby rolls them over once they’re bare, stradling Ellie’s thigh. She’s not as wet as she was the night before, but then again neither is Ellie. Her lust feels like embers burning, the cozy warmth of a friendly campfire. Abby’s eyes flicker up past Ellie’s head. “Hold on, there’s blankets here.” They shuffle as Abby lays out some blankets and a pillow. “My back hurts,” she confesses.
“Mine fucking too,” Ellie agrees. “And my knees, oh my god.” Abby looks guilty at that, and Ellie pulls her back down in apology. “It’s not like I didn’t ask for it,” she grins. She runs her hand down Abby’s redone braid. “Your hair is so pretty.”
Ellie plays with the braid absently. Abby’s hair is many different shades of golden-brown. The way the colours twine together is mesmerizing.
“I'm sorry,” Abby says abruptly.
“For what?”
Abby grimaces. Oh. That. Ellie purses her lips. “You're not really, are you?”
Abby stares at her for a moment, contemplating. Eventually she shrugs weakly. “I don't know.”
Ellie drops the braid. “Even if you were. I wouldn't forgive you.” She leans up to kiss the corner of Abby's mouth. Abby tenses then relaxes. “Relax,” Ellie mutters. “Let me touch you.”
Abby's shoulders are deeply tanned and heavily freckled. Striations of broken blood vessels run down across her collar where Ellie had bitten too deep. She kisses the skin softly. Abby sighs as Ellie's mouth trails up her neck before sucking on her earlobe. When Abby begins to whine, Ellie moves downward. Abby holds Ellie's head to her skin in a possessive grip.
Ellie licks Abby's pebbled areolas. Applies just the faintest scraping of her teeth. Abby's hips grind into Ellie and heat floods her from her cunt up. She grinds back. Abby's thigh is wide and warm and soft against her. There's so little urgency now. It feels obvious she'll get what she wants, so there's no need to rush. She licks a broad stripe over her palm and wraps her hand around Abby's dick. Abby huffs at the sensation and her fingers dig sharply into Ellie's hair.
“Good?” Ellie asks.
Abby nods sharply, then grunts “Good.”
Ellie assumed she'd never have experience with dicks. They were so far off her radar as to be non-existent in her fantasies. But Abby’s body makes sense. The hard lines of her hips, the soft skin and firm weight of her cock. It’s dizzyingly arousing, even outside the intoxication of the spores. Ellie moves her hand loosely to coat Abby thoroughly with arousal. “What would you like?” Ellie asks. She doesn't want to guess anymore. There's a fluttering in her chest to match the heat between her legs. How much can she make Abby give her?
Abbys eyelids flicker. Her eyebrows furrow and lips pout in concentration, as if she’s aiming a gun rather than having sex. “Talk,” she says.
Ellie swipes her thumb over the tip, rolling the pearling moisture across the pink head of Abby’s dick. Ellies breath hitches, just slightly. “Do you like when I touch your clit?”
Abby exhales raggedly at that, and her hips jerk. “Yes,” she says.
Ellie can work with this. She slows her ministrations and focuses on the head, which makes Abby's breath hitch. She considers the way Abby had shuddered when Ellie put her mouth on it. Cajolingly, she continues, “Can I suck your clit?”
A tremor runs through Abby. It takes her a second to focus on Ellie’s face. Apprehension, yes, but arousal also. Now that she’s free of the influence of the spores, her lust is guarded. “Okay.”
Ellie smiles encouragingly. Her thighs tighten with need. Not yet. She nudged Abby into her back and kisses her languidly before moving down her body. She could do this a thousand times and never tire of it. When she passes Abby’s chest, she swirls her tongue around her nipples but doesn’t bite down. Abby’s nails in her back indicate she’s expecting it. Perhaps wants it.
Abby’s stomach is toned, her waist broad. She could take Ellie easily. The weight of her is enough to make Ellie’s stomach flip with arousal. A mix of fear and desire that’s haunted her since they first ran into each other in that spore-laden complex.
A hand rests on Ellie’s head with slight apprehension. Ellie kisses her stomach reassuringly, then tilts a leg up with a press of her hand and moves to Abby’s ass to lay quick lapping licks there. Abby starts and then moans. Familiar ground. Ellie moves her hand to Abby’s hip. “I’m going to take care of you.”
The reassuring words should be anethema to her. She justifies herself: she wants Abby willing. The truth is more disgraceful.
Slowly, she licks the length of Abby’s cock. As her mouth leaves Abby’s ass behind she replaces it with her fingers, gently circling. Abby's voice raises when Ellie sinks a finger in to the first knuckle. Her noises are breathy, almost afflicted. It had taken a great deal of time before Abby had accepted her pleasure gladly even under the heightened lust of the spores. But her hand still rests gently on Ellie’s head, so Ellie works diligently to pull her to a kinder place.
“You look so gorgeous like this.” Ellie sucks the head of Abby’s cock wetly, rolling the flat of her tongue over the slit. She lets her eyes roam Abby’s body, taking in the way her powerful form sprawls in submissive pleasure. She removes her hand just long enough to slide her fingers across her soaking cunt, gathering arousal to ease herself back into Abby’s ass. “You take me so well.” She moves slower than she did on the spores, opening Abby with a patience she didn’t previously believe she possessed. The way Abby squirms, hooking one leg up to spread herself, is more than worth it.
“Please,” Abby begs. Ellie’s not sure how long she’s been working her with slow curls of her fingers, just grazing the place inside that makes Abby shudder. Alternating between broad strokes and quick laps of her tongue to keep Abby perpetually near the sensation that arches her back and makes her thighs flex taut. “Oh my god.”
Ellie doesn’t want to taunt Abby any more. She just wants to watch the way she breaks apart when she comes. She twists her fingers to plunge directly where she knows Abby wants her. Abby yelps, and the sound repeats in gratifying staccato several times before Abby can catch her breath and swallow hard to drown her noises.
“You know I like the way you sound,” Ellie says, but Abby continues to choke back her vocalizations. Perhaps there are things when sober that must be earned through trust alone. “Come for me,” she asks instead. She licks along the underside of Abby's cock before taking it back into her mouth alongside a firm thrust of her fingers. Abby’s mouth drops open and Ellie recognizes it as an attempt to declare herself. That amusing habit had previously been wrung out of her by the length of their fucking, now returned to remind Ellie of who Abby was outside of heady lust. Abby's eyes roll back.
Salty liquid pours into Ellie’s mouth. She diligently laps at the head of Abby's cock until Abby's shuddering abaits and she taps jerkily at Ellie's cheek. “Okay.” Abby's voice is hoarse, and she clears her throat, sitting upright. “Okay.”
Ellie climbs up Abby's body to meet her. There again is the antsy bewilderment Abby had the first few times she came- as if she didn't quite understand what had just happened. Ellie pushes her gently back down onto the blankets and straddles her thigh.
“I can't go again,” she says.
Ellie shakes her head and rolls them onto their side. Equals, for a moment. The promise of pressure has her almost breathless. She doesn't look away as she grinds into the muscle of Abby's thigh. Instead she grips Abby close and tries to pretend this will be enough. The pantomime of tenderness. The friction is godly against her aching cunt but more than that she can't stop rubbing small circles with her thumb on Abby's back, can't stop cataloging the freckles peaking through the flush on Abby's cheeks. The heat builds between her legs and up into her chest, a sensation so overwhelming the only response is to flee. But if she flees she'll miss the way Abby's lips part with each gentle exhale. The quiet calculation in her eyes, the arc of each pale eyelash. Ellie has never known how to back down.
Abby presses her thigh up into Ellie and the proof of her willing participation sends Ellie reeling. What is Abby gleaning from all this? What secrets of Ellies has she already uncovered? Why does it send Ellies heart racing to know Abby has taken from her as she's taken from Abby?
Abby touches Ellie's face gently, first just with the tips of her fingers, then cupping her jaw. Ellie tries to muffle a moan that sounds more like a cry. Her cunt is on fire, her chest is on fire, every inch of her skin is burning. Sensation wracks her body and dismisses all her pain. There's just this: Abby's broad arm holding her close, the heat of her skin, the clarity in her eyes. Pleasure coiling tighter and tighter.
Abby touches her lips to Ellie's and her climax cascades through her. Fuck the concrete floor, fuck the city full of people that want to kill her, and fuck the vendetta that means Ellie has to murder a person who despite everything is willing to kiss her softly. It's not the hardest she's ever cum, and the afterglow is made almost nonexistent by the truth of her situation. Sooner or later, this has to end. She has to go home, and she'll never know who Abby is.
Abby waits until Ellies grip loosens and ducks silently to put her mouth on Ellies cunt. She moves in broad strokes, avoiding Ellie’s oversensitive clit. Her movement is assiduous, industrious. When Ellie meets her eyes, they are diligent, if not affectionate. The steady motions of Abby's tongue are soporific, and Ellie's second orgasm cascades over her like the warm glow of a fire. She basks in the sensation, contemplating the most unobtrusive way to die.
Finally, she tugs Abby up with an insistent fistful of hair. Abby’s face is slick with Ellie’s arousal. She crawls up with slight hesitation and drops down beside Ellie only after being pushed. Ellie stares at the ceiling and tries to pretend this changes nothing. She feels satiated and crawling with dread, which is markedly different from the influence of the spores.
Abby wipes her face on her bicep. There’s a nervous sort of energy coming off her Ellie wants to ignore. That she can’t ignore.
Ellie rolls to face her and takes the other woman in. Wide eyed and flushed. Wisps of blond hair curling around her face. She doesn’t look anything like a murderer.
“Are we done now?” Abby asks.
Ellie checks in with her cunt. Yeah, it’s tapped out. She skims briefly past her heart. It promises dangerous ideas she can’t abide.
“I have to kill you,” Ellie says, but even as she says it she’s exhausted by the prospect.
Abby sits up on her thighs, and Ellie tries not to let her chest ache at the distance. It feels so much safer to have Abby close. “Is there any way I can dissuade you?”
“Was there any way to dissuade you?”
Abby flinches, then shakes her head sorrowfully.
Ellie reaches for her loaned clothes. “All my stuff is at- where my people are.” As she stands she continues stiffly, “I will try to let them convince me.”
Abby's shoulders fall minutely. “It wasn’t right,” she says.
Ellie glances to her.
“I’m not sorry. But it wasn’t right.”
Ah. Ellie nods. And she knows they’re as close as they will get to an understanding. At least while the wounds are still fresh.
Abby guides her to the aquarium entrance and opens the door for her. Ellie spares her one last look.
Not a monster. Not quite.