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But, girl, you make it hard to be faithful With the lips of an angel

Summary:

Sometimes it's hard to tell someone how you feel — not because you feel too little for them, but because it's them you feel everything for

Notes:

Can be read as a stand alone but this is meant as a part 2 to "When It Gets Too Much I Need To Feel Your Touch" (Run To You)

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Sometimes it's hard to tell someone how you feel — not because you feel too little for them, but because it's them you feel everything for.

For quite a while now, Robin and Nancy had been playing this game. Both of them pretending the lingering stares and stolen glances didn’t mean anything. They circled each other, the air thick with unspoken tension and buried feelings. Every time it got worse, a silent countdown ticking away until one day the glass would be too full.

For months this charade had dragged on. Both of them knew they wanted each other, but being loved in the dark meant being loved in secret — slowly being suffocated by it.

They had fucked more than once. Bodies frantic with desire, skin against skin, mouth on mouth. Movements skirting the line between casual and too intimate. Making out in Nancy’s car was fine, but holding hands was a step too far. Fucking in the cold, bland break room of Family Video wasn’t a problem, but cuddling afterward would have ripped the wound wide open.

The wound had a name. A cherry girl with red hair and a beautiful smile — one that looked at Robin like she’d hung the moon and the stars, while Robin choked on guilt every second she spent in Nancy’s arms.

Some days, Robin couldn’t stand it. Every fiber of her being screamed to just tell Vickie and end this. But telling her would shatter her heart, poison every memory of what they’d had. Robin could already picture it: the love draining from Vickie’s eyes, replaced with disgust.

How would she even say it?
Vickie, I’ve been sleeping with Nancy behind your back. I’m sorry.

There was no excuse for what she’d done. She had chosen Nancy. Wanted her. And even now, staring at her bedroom ceiling, Nancy was all she could see. It felt cursed.

At the Wheeler house, Nancy tried to read. Tried being the operative word. Her eyes dragged over the same lines again and again as a thought gnawed at her, demanding to be acknowledged. With a quiet sigh, she shut the book. Distraction clearly wasn’t happening tonight.

A knock startled her, heart jumping into her throat — until she saw Robin’s reflection in the window glass.

Nancy stood, dressed in an old shirt and gym shorts. Her fingers trembled as she unlocked the window, her rational mind begging her not to. She ignored it.

“Hey, Nancy.”

Robin climbed in, clumsy as ever, barely keeping her balance. She wore a black tank top, half-hidden beneath a flannel.
The flannel I got her, Nancy thought, a sharp ache blooming in her chest.

Robin had been in this room countless times. Knew it like the back of her hand. But tonight felt different. Nancy shifted, folding her arms across her chest as if bracing herself.

“I know I haven’t been in touch lately,” Robin said quietly. “And I’m sorry.”

Nancy barely heard the rest. Robin’s voice faded into background noise as exhaustion settled deep in her bones. This situation was a mess — tangled, exhausting, inescapable. They’d gotten lost in each other, drunk on the closeness, only to wake up hungover in the same endless cycle.

But Vickie—”

That snapped Nancy back. Hurt flickered across her face before she could stop it. She bit her lip. She hated feeling this way. Vickie was Robin’s girlfriend. The real victim. The girl who came home to someone giving herself away to someone else.

And yet — Nancy didn’t just want Robin’s body. She wanted Robin.

She wanted stupid romcoms and falling asleep tangled together. Waking up to that scratchy voice murmuring good morning. Touching her without hiding. Loving her without secrecy.

Robin,” Nancy said, voice steady despite everything. “Why are you here?”

Robin looked away, chewing nervously on her nails. She knew why. She’d always known. Being away from Nancy felt like suffocation.

“I… I wanted to see you.”

The honesty stole Nancy’s breath. Against her better judgment, she closed the distance and kissed Robin under the pale wash of moonlight.

Robin responded instantly, hands gripping Nancy’s waist as if she’d been waiting for permission. She lifted her easily, carrying her to the bed.

The gentleness broke Nancy’s heart. She knew it wouldn’t last. Robin would leave. She always did.

Kisses turned feverish, trailing from Nancy’s jaw to her neck. She sighed as Robin sucked gently at her pulse, smiling against her skin while Nancy shoved the flannel from her shoulders.

Their kisses started soft — reverent, almost — before hunger took over. Robin’s hands slid under Nancy’s shirt, making her arch into her touch, pressing against the bulge in Robin’s cargos. Fingernails scratched. Nancy moaned.

“Fuck, Robin… please.”

Robin’s eyes were dark, blown wide. She tugged Nancy’s shorts and panties away, fingers circling slowly until Nancy was wet and aching.

“You’re so wet for me, Nance".

Nancy lifted her hips in answer. Robin didn’t need more encouragement. When her tongue met Nancy, the world narrowed to heat and pleasure. Nancy tangled her fingers in Robin’s hair, gasping as Robin sucked her clit into her mouth.

“God, Robin…”

The pressure built fast. Nancy’s legs closed around Robin’s head, desperation spilling out in broken curses. Robin never slowed, driving her right to the edge — and over.

Nancy shook, breathless, fingers clenched tight until Robin tapped her wrist, coaxing her to loosen her grip before crawling up to kiss her.

“You did so good,” Robin murmured. “So pretty for me.”

Nancy smiled despite herself.

“Kiss me.”

Robin did — deep, hungry. Nancy tasted herself on Robin’s lips as she tugged open the taller girls cargos, hand wrapping around her cock. Robin groaned.

“Round two,” Nancy teased.

Clothes disappeared without thought. Nancy stroked her slowly, spreading the slick warmth of precum before Robin pressed against her.

“Condom,” Robin said, strained. “We need one.”

“I just want you,” Nancy whispered. “All of you.”

Robin pressed her forehead to Nancys, breath shaky.

“You can’t say things like that.”

“I mean it. Fuck me. Come inside me.”

Whatever restraint Robin had left shattered.

The bed creaked against the wall, their sounds filling the room. Robin drove into her, deep and desperate. Nancy came again, dragging Robin with her.

Afterward, Nancy felt warm. Safe.

Robin froze as reality crashed back in — guilt sharp and cruel. Vickie’s face flashed in her mind.

She was a terrible partner.

Nancy pulled her into a hug, as if she could sense the storm in Robin’s head. And in that moment, breathing Nancy in, Robin understood something terrifying.

This wasn’t just lust.

She hadn’t done this because of heat or impulse.

Robin Buckley was hopelessly, devastatingly in love with Nancy Wheeler — and had been desperate to claim her.