Work Text:
So. Alysa wakes up to an ogre doing jumping jacks in her brain.
Her eyes blink open and she winces immediately at the morning sun illuminating her room. Under different circumstances, she would find it breath-taking how the sunlight is filtering through the window. But that’s the thing, she’s cursing the idiot who didn’t bother closing the curtains before going to bed last night.
Alysa glances around her single room before begrudgingly pulling her blankets over her head, trying to see if the pounding in her head would go away if she goes back to sleep.
Spoiler alert: sleep no longer wants her.
Alysa groans, arm snaking its way from where it previously hid under the blanket to reach blindly for her phone on the nightstand as she turns to her side. She taps the screen with her thumb and sees it fully-charged.
So she remembered to charge her phone but not to close the curtains before tossing herself onto her bed and passing the fuck out, apparently.
The time on Alysa’s phone lets her know that it’s 7:13 in the morning. She unplugs it from the charger and holds it against her chest, closing her eyes as memories from last night flash behind her eyelids.
She doesn’t remember much. At least that’s what she tells herself as to not recall the fool she made out of herself at the Team USA afterparty courtesy of Ilia, Vadym and the others to celebrate everyone’s winnings. Alysa supposes that being the highlight, the moment of it all had made her more susceptible to letting loose.
It’s fine. As long as she doesn’t recall trying to kiss anybody in her drunken stupor, all is fine.
Much like the rest of the world, Alysa is not immune to the appeal of doomscrolling. Her thumb swipes up on her lock screen and finds Twitter before she can even think about it.
She’s logged into her private account now— well, it’s a public account because she has nothing to hide, but nobody knows about it, which technically makes it private. Just not a secret. Her spiritually private twitter account.
It’s not like she’s an incel or anything to warrant being on twitter. God, no. Despite all the horrid shit she has to read from time-to-time, it’s fun to lurk in the trenches sometimes and watch as everybody calls her a princess. Maybe even have pretty girls call her cute. She likes the praise. God forbid a girl wants an ego boost.
Her spiritually private profile mainly consists of retweets of her own interests, with an occasional photo dump every now and then where nothing alludes to the fact that it’s her behind the account. A tweet venting out her frustrations here, a faceless photo of her in bed with a hand dragging her shirt halfway up her torso there.
So what if she had tagged #wlw just to watch lesbians shoot their shots under her replies?
She taps on the house-shaped button at the bottom of the screen. There’s nothing too crazy on the timeline today: blue checkmark, a gif of Nick Wilde from Zootopia doing the stank which makes her laugh, a video of pinkpantheress looking pretty, blue checkmark, something corny, and another blue checkmark.
Alysa scrolls, and scrolls and scrolls until a tweet catches her eye.
Pictures of Amber Glenn’s performance during the exhibition gala.
She’s winking to the camera with one arm raised in an elegant wave. Alysa catches herself smiling, it’s been decided. The full stream has already been uploaded to YouTube, she just has to find the time to sit down and watch Amber’s performance on repeat, that’s all.
Alysa spends several more minutes looking at Amber’s photos from the exhibition gala. Admires the perfect swoop of golden blonde hair and the way it falls on her shoulders. Her eyes trace the muscles on Amber’s toned biceps and Alysa’s tongue subconsciously brushes against her top teeth, poking at the barbell hanging from her frenulum.
She heaves a sigh, shifting her body and getting ready to lay on her side—
Knock, knock, knock.
Alysa jumps from where she lays, head lifting off her pillow to glare at the door like it has personally offended her— in a way, yes, if you could consider that an interruption to a private moment between her and Amber.
Alysa tosses her blanket to the side and swings her legs over the edge of the bed. Rubbing the last remnants of sleep from her eyes, she makes her way to the door, mentally preparing herself to yell at the cockblocker on the other side once her hand lands on the knob.
She swings the door open. Vanilla and citrus engulfs her senses immediately and Alysa has to remind herself she has legs.
”Well good morning to you too.”
She stares for a moment, dumbfounded.
”Alys—“
”Amber! Hi, good morning!” She hopes that Amber doesn’t notice that her pitch is higher than usual. Perhaps she could find a way to blame it on the hangover?
”Hey, I came to ask if you wanted to get breakfast with me,” Amber’s smile is warm and cordial, her hands gesturing even though they’re tucked into the pockets of her jacket and Alysa has to stop her grin from widening beyond what is considered normal.
”Oh—” Alysa looks around, eyes searching for a jacket of some kind. The door slams in Amber’s face.
It swings open seconds later, revealing a hoodie-clad Alysa Liu with a beanie snug atop her head, and smiley glinting under the fluorescent lights of the hallway. “—sorry for closing the door in your face, my hoodie was hanging behind the door.”
”Oh, yeah, no. I totally guessed that,” Amber says, stepping aside as Alysa steps out into the hallway. “How did you sleep last night?”
They fall into step, side by side as Alysa lets out a disbelieving chuckle. “Dude, I passed the fuck out.”
“Yup, I know,” Amber grins as they step into the elevator. Now what the hell does that mean?
”I didn’t, like, embarrass myself… right?” Alysa mutters into the sacred space that is the elevator. She hears Amber chuckle softly and closes her eyes, bracing for impact.
“No, no, I just had to drag you all the way up to your room, is all,” Amber says it like it’s casual and it makes Alysa wince.
”That’s all?”
”You may have tried to get me to sleep with you?—“
Oh, okay. Alysa wants to kill herself. “Jesus fucking Christ—“
”No! Like, literally, not in the way you’re thinking, Alysa, God,” Amber starts to laugh and Alysa tries to calculate the possibility of the elevator plummeting to the ground just so she doesn’t have to turn to face Amber in the next few minutes.
Unfortunately, it dings and they eventually reach the lobby of the Team USA building.
”It was pretty funny, you were practically pulling me into your bed,” Amber teases.
”Y’know, I’ve always admired how well-spoken and articulate you are in interviews but I think this is the one time I gotta admit you have a shitty way with words,” Alysa replies. She can’t hold back her smile when Amber deliberately bumps her shoulder against hers.
”Relax, you didn’t do anything crazy. I took care of you,” Amber catches her eyes when she turns her head to look at Alysa, who’s trying to soothe the warmth she feels settling in the pit of her stomach.
Right, because a beautiful slightly older woman saying I took care of you wouldn’t do things to her.
Amber brings her to a cafe situated within the Olympic Village, their usual spot whenever they don’t feel like stuffing their faces with Olympic cafeteria food. She pushes the door open—ever the gentlewoman—and lets Alysa through first, who tugs on Amber’s sleeve and pulls her to the counter to order.
Alysa turns her head and opens her mouth. “I want a—“
”Oat milk latte,” their shoulders are touching so Amber nudges her slightly. “I gotchu. Breakfast sandwich?” Alysa nods, smiling appreciatively as she pulls away with all of the willpower she could muster to grab a seat for the both of them.
Alysa claims a spot slightly secluded from everyone else, right at the back of the cafe. Taking off her beanie and placing it on the table, she takes this opportunity to scroll on TikTok for a bit before Amber returns a few moments later, carrying a tray of food.
Straight black for Amber, oat milk latte for her, and two breakfast sandwiches for the both of them. Okay, cute, Alysa thinks.
She mutters a thanks before digging into her sandwich. She’s fucking starving, and Amber’s watching her with something akin to amusement and a slight fondness in her eyes.
”So,” Alysa begins, mouth still full of food.
Amber looks up while she sips her coffee and raises an eyebrow. “Please swallow before you speak.”
Alysa so badly wants to make a joke about her unintended innuendo just to fuck with her, but decides against it. She finishes chewing and lets the contents of the sandwich settle into her stomach. ”You looked fucking amazing the other day and I’m really proud of you. Truly.”
Amber flushes at the compliment, and something disgustingly fond blooms in Alysa’s chest. “You don’t have to say that,” she says, although the small smile that paints her expression betrays her.
”I know, but… I want to,” Alysa says shyly. “And it’s nice… getting to spend time with you like this.” Amber tries to brush off the burning on the tips of her ears by brushing her hair forward and over her shoulder but Alysa sees through her anyway.
”I’ve missed you too, if that’s what you’re getting at,” Amber says coolly, which makes Alysa grin.
”Bit of a reach, don’t ya think? We see each other, like, everyday.”
“Well, yeah! But we rarely got to sit down and, y’know, talk.”
”Like how we always do.”
”Yeah, like how we always do,” Amber’s voice is quieter when she responds and it makes Alysa want to reach across the table just to feel Amber’s hand in hers. So she does exactly that.
”Seriously, though, you’re a star,” Alysa mutters into the space between them. She’s fully aware it isn’t easy for Amber to come before her like this, seemingly put together. She knows it haunts her and picks at her soul a little, bit by bit. So she presses her fingers against Amber’s palms a little firmer when Amber squeezes her hand.
“Did you see the TikTok I sent you?” Okay, what the hell, way to ruin a moment. But no, Alysa tends to forget about her TikTok DMs. That’s why it’s a streak-ship graveyard over there.
Leaning in this close, Alysa could see a playful glint in her eye and she’s not sure she likes that look right now. So she tells Amber that.
”Just watch it, please?” Amber is full-on grinning now.
She reaches for her phone and swipes to Amber’s message in her DMs. Ooh, it’s an edit. Alysa likes edits, loves them actually. Especially when it’s edits of herself. And Amber. Mostly the latter if she’s being honest here.
There’s something different with this one, though, she realizes. “I’m sorry, is that—“
Amber wheezes, like, actually wheezes. “It’s KK.”
”Huh!” Alysa exclaims—partly intrigued, partly confused. “How did they even come to this conclusion?" She watches absentmindedly as the video plays on loop, becoming extremely hyperaware of being put in an edit together with Caroline Harvey.
”I don’t know, I just thought it was funny as hell, I needed to see your reaction.”
I mean, don’t get her wrong. Caroline Harvey is hot, everyone knows that, but Alysa’s a bit irked that Amber’s so casual about this. Like it doesn’t bother her one bit. As in, Alysa’s-being-shipped-with-somebody-other-than-Amber kind of bothered. Just straight up ijboling her way through this situation. I guess she doesn’t have a reason to, Alysa thinks to herself.
Right, so Alysa probably sounds a bit in over her head right now.
”You really never know what’s happening in the RPF community.”
Those words slip out of Amber’s mouth as casually as can be. Alysa’s eyes widen before narrowing, she clicks the power button on her phone and glances up at the woman in front of her who’s sliding a piece of cheese into her mouth.
“Did you really just say what I think you just said?” Alysa really wants to laugh.
“What?” Amber asks through a mouthful of cheese, eyebrows furrowed and all. Alysa takes a mental note of this image. No reason, she just wants to.
“I mean, I just know what it stands for. I’m not really… indulging in it, per se. But it’s kinda fun, y’know?” Amber takes another bite out of her breakfast sandwich. Alysa quickly glances down at her plate to see if hers is still there. It’s not.
Alysa Liu is a lot of things, but one thing she’s definitely not is offline. Being a K-Pop fan, she’s very much aware of the existence of that genre of fiction, having indulged in it herself throughout her countless years of being involved in fandom culture. However, it hasn’t quite occurred to her that—
Oh.
She’ll have to revisit this soon. Later, perhaps.
But for now, she’s happy with sitting with Amber in silence. There’s something weirdly intimate about watching and waiting for Amber to finish her coffee and breakfast sandwich, something warm hangs in the air between them. Alysa finds that she does not mind this, not one bit.
————————————
Hours go by before Alysa finds herself back in her dorm room.
She and Amber may have taken a bit of a detour, from what was supposed to be a breakfast—trip, date? Is she even allowed to call it that?—had turned into venturing through the streets of Milan. Not that Alysa minds if it means she gets to have Amber Glenn all to herself for a whole entire day.
She has taken a much-needed shower, towel wrapped around her neck for her to dry her damp halo’ed hair as she sits on her bed. Her phone sits on the nightstand and she makes a move to reach for it, but her hand stops mere inches from where it sits. It clenches into a fist before unclenching. Alysa clicks her tongue against her teeth as she grabs it anyway, her curiosity far stronger than the gravitational pull of nature.
She unlocks the device and finds her thumb hovering over the Safari app. She swallows, remembering her and Amber’s conversation from this morning over breakfast. She has taken a mental note of this:
Amber Glenn knows what RPF is, because sure, why the hell not.
”Fuck it,” she says to no one in particular but really, she thinks it’s an act of self-assurance. Alysa puts her phone down for a second, reaching up to the towel draped over her shoulders to wipe the sweat off her hands. Her hands are sweating, she really doesn’t know why she’s making this a bigger deal than what it actually is. All she’s doing is… research. Yeah, that’s what this is.
She types archiveofourown dot org into the safari search bar and the website—upon loading immediately asks her to log in, which, okay, way to expose her like that. Alysa feels a sense of familiarity upon being face-to-face with the sickly white display of the website, her thumb finds the search button like it’s her second home.
“Alysa Liu is no stranger to the archives,” she mumbles before straightening her back, a final attempt at self-composure. She regrets saying that already.
Her thumbs hover over the keyboard.
‘Amber Glenn/Alysa Liu’
Oh. Their names appear immediately. She was expecting to have to type it all out manually but sure, that works too.
She scrolls down, presses the ‘Search’ button, and waits.
The reception in the village admittedly isn’t the best, Alysa has heard Amber complain about it before while trying to upload a TikTok they had made—
Okay. The screen loads, at last and Alysa has to take a deep breath. Her heart is beating unusually fast for someone who’s static in bed looking up fanfiction of her best friend and herself. The warm feeling from this morning makes itself known once more.
She shifts so that now she’s laying back in her bed, and that’s when she sees it.
There are about a couple dozen or so works tagged with her and Amber, surprisingly so. Her breath hitches, thumb scrolling upwards albeit slowly. The tags on these fics are the first thing to catch her eye and the only way she’s able to rationalize her tapping on one of the titles is by demonic possession of the human body
It starts off by reiterating the events of what happened during the games in the past couple of weeks and Alyssa can’t help her smile when she reads about her and Amber’s written interactions because yeah, okay, it’s cute. Screw her.
Alysa is having the time of her life if she’s being honest with herself, some of this stuff is genuinely well-written, she’ll give them that.
And then she remembers that she had clicked on a rather, ah, explicit work.
Her face gets hot and she finds herself clearing her throat, deciding to push through regardless and trying not to think about that feeling making its way up her spine, something that feels too close to excitement. She picks it up in her mind and throws it against an imaginary wall. She doesn’t pay heed to the way it pulses and buzzes as it lay on the floor, another fragment of her imagination.
‘Amber’s lips are soft when Alysa feels them against her neck, so unlike the frenzy of lips and teeth clashing against one another from earlier like a desperate plea, her teeth grazing just slightly against the delicate skin.’
Alysa pulls her blanket upwards to her chest, hoping it would make her feel less exposed despite already being dressed in her pyjamas.
She tries not to think about it. Think about her. About how she would look if the gods were kind enough to make her present herself in front of Alysa like… like that.
‘A warm palm presses itself against the softness of Alysa’s stomach and it feels like a reminder, almost. She’s there, and she’s real. And Alysa tugs her upwards for a kiss simply because she wants to. To feel her all over and this plea doesn’t go unnoticed when she whimpers into Amber’s mouth—’
Alysa pulls the phone away from her face, an incredulous look painting her expression as she looks to the ceiling. “Wh—Me? Whimpering? Are we sure?”
She can neither confirm nor deny, it’s just that she’s never personally heard it for herself.
Her eyebrows are still narrowed when she focuses her attention to the words on the screen once more.
‘“Amber?”
Amber doesn’t miss the whine that escapes Alysa’s throat, her response comes in the form of a hum as she nuzzles the other girl’s jaw. She feels a strong hand wrapping around hers and guiding it lower… lower…’
Alysa’s breath is ragged like she’d just ran a marathon in her bed. Not that she would mind if the marathon in question was—
Okay, no.
She tries not to remember how Amber’s citrus shampoo smells when she stepped a bit too close into Alysa’s personal space, or how easy it is for the older girl to pick her up and spin her around, Alysa’s legs wrapped around her waist. Or how Amber always has a tendency to be near her, to touch her—shoulders against each other’s, fingers wrapping around her arm, hand pressing onto the small of her back, right over where Alysa’s tattoo sits.
Her fist is turning white from the death grip it has on her blanket and she can hear the blood rushing to her ears and all throughout her body and she can especially feel it in the way there is a throbbing in between her legs that won’t go away. Stubborn.
She closes her eyes and swallows. Her eyes flicker around the room once they open, landing on the door a few feet away from her. Alysa has full confidence in the fact that she most definitely locked the door.
Fuck it.
Her hand is splayed over her stomach and Alysa wishes so badly that it wasn’t hers. That it’s someone else’s. She drags it lower until her fingers touch a familiar waistband and she’s hesitating when she pulls it upwards to snake her hand below her sweatpants, her hand freezing when it touches her underwear.
She doesn’t pull it aside. No, not yet.
Her fingers brush against her clit and Alysa almost cringes upon feeling the wet fabric against her fingertips. A million thoughts are racing through her mind at every second that passes by. Part of her is guilty and ashamed because good god what else is there to be found when her panties are this soaked just from reading about her fucking her best friend?
Part of her just wants to let go and—
Alysa’s thoughts are cut off by the sound of a moan escaping her mouth and she has to bite her lip to regain even a sense of self-control. She rubs slow circles against her underwear, just right over where her clit hides beneath the fabric.
Eventually you get sick of playing it safe, at least Alysa does.
She finds her fingers slipping through the waistband of her underwear and gasps once she gathers enough slick to push a finger into her own cunt, thumb quickly finding its way to her clit.
Her back arches slightly off the mattress before she remembers.
She looks at the screen and back to the hand buried in her panties. Ditching it. Who the fuck needs a fanfic to touch yourself to when you have your mind?
It’s fine, she has read enough for her mind to fill in the other details.
Her unoccupied hand flies to her mouth and Alysa feels the need to dig her teeth into her own fist. She pushes in another finger this time, imagining it’s Amber who’s touching her like this, that it’s Amber’s blue eyes she’s looking into instead of the darkness she’s facing behind closed eyes, that it’s Amber who’s getting her to fall apart beneath the seams.
A breathy moan catches itself in Alysa’s throat when she speeds up her thrusts, trying not to put too much pressure on her clit. It’s too soon for her to cum, she thinks. She wants to revel in it—in this, knee-deep in between a fantasy and pure imagination where it’s just Amber, Amber, Amber and just that alone.
Alysa finds herself floating amidst the bubble she has carefully trapped herself in, hence why when three firm knocks sound against her door, there comes no response.
Then comes a click and a push.
Pushing herself towards the edge, Alysa frees her hand from her mouth and lets her fingers find the sheets next to her, grasping onto them like she’s trying to find a tether to the earth beneath her back. Alysa trembles, a broken sob ripping from her throat as she nears the peak. Almost.
“Shit. Amber, Amber… f—”
“Alysa?”
Just the tiniest whisper of her name has Alysa halt in her tracks, panic washing over her in violent, violent waves.
Fuck. She opens her eyes.
Amber. With a look on her face Alysa has never seen before, ever. Alysa wants to kill herself for real this time.
Fuck. “Amber!” Alysa scrambles this time, quickly pulling her hand out of her sweatpants and trying to the best of her ability to wipe traces of herself against the fabric as subtly as possible. She sits up to face the figure standing in her doorway.
It’s so quiet Alysa swears she can hear herself blink.
“What the f—I mean, what are you doing here?” She asks, stupidly.
Amber’s mouth, already open, closes for a moment before opening again. “You—You left your beanie with me. I thought I’d give it—um, give it back?” She looks like a deer in headlights, like she’s just about ready to flee.
“Oh.”
It hits her then. She winces, closing her eyes and hoping that would somehow make Amber disappear—for now, at least, but she wouldn’t blame her if she pulls out her phone to book the first flight out of Milan. “Fuck. Shit. Amber, I’m so sorry, this was—”
She can’t even finish her own sentence. What am I even supposed to say? Sorry I was reading fanfiction of us and started masturbating to the thought of you? Like she already isn’t making a fool out of herself.
“Listen, I—”
“Was it me?”
Alysa feels her blood run cold. “What?”
“When you—when you were almost…” the words fail in Amber’s throat. She clears it. “Did you say my name?”
If Alysa wasn’t already extremely red in the face then she certainly is now. She nods, not meeting Amber’s eyes because she can’t even think of doing that right now. Can’t even think about being in the same room as her. Let alone breathe the same air.
A silence passes between them before Alysa sees Amber taking steps toward her direction. She risks a glance in her direction.
“Just—” Amber brings up the hand still holding Alysa’s beanie.
“Right. Um, I’ll just…” Alysa almost reaches out with her right hand before remembering what she was doing with it prior to Amber barging into her room. She quickly pulls back and reaches outward with her left this time.
Amber takes a couple more steps towards her. Cautious. Alysa makes a move to stand up because she feels like it’s a bit disrespectful to have Amber walk all the way to her instead. What she lacks in decorum she makes up for it in manners. I guess.
However, her phone falls to the floor before she could straighten her posture, causing the both of them to look down. The glaring white of the ‘archiveofourown’ site illuminates their faces in the near-dark.
Alysa bends down, ready to snatch her phone off the floor before another hand beats her to it—Amber’s. Alysa makes a noise of surprise, eyes widening while Amber stands before her. The taller woman doesn’t say anything initially, seemingly confused herself, but she can’t help it when her eyes skim over the contents on the screen. Amber is not a fossil, despite Isabeau’s teasing remarks, no. She’s been exposed to fandom culture for longer than she can remember, having had her fair share of experience after accidentally discovering Supernatural on a school night when she was fourteen.
And of course she knew that everybody indulges in it every now and then, much like herself, some even more than others. Alysa reading fanfiction doesn’t come as a surprise, obviously, but Alysa—
Amber stills when she catches sight of a familiar name—or rather, names—and her eyes strain slightly as they try to make out the rest of the words.
‘Amber Glenn/Alysa Liu’
Amber casts a glance to the girl sitting on the bed, an almost pathetic expression paints her features. She can practically feel Alysa’s restlessness bouncing off of her.
Alysa starts—or at least she tries to figure out how to. “Amber, I’m so sorry. I was just fucking around and thought it would be funny if…” there’s a semblance of a quiver in her voice as she speaks, “I don’t—I don’t know, it’s fucked up, okay? I shouldn’t have…” the words die on her tongue, not daring to be said out loud but Amber hears her loud and clear.
Amber’s heart beats a quick, steady rhythm from where it resides behind her ribcage, her stomach twists in knots as she reaches Alysa’s phone out, waiting to feel how warm one’s skin can get when she takes it from her grasp and feels her palm brush against Amber’s.
Alysa eyes her, almost cautious, waiting for Amber to do something—maybe slap her across the face for being a fuckin’ perv or make a face just to let her know the level of disgust she feels toward her, something to hint towards the fact that she’ll never see Alysa the same way ever again. She winces when Amber opens her mouth and prepares for the worst.
”Why?” She asks.
Alysa freezes. Amber doesn’t sound angry when she says it, doesn’t sound upset. She’s threading lightly—her tone tilts with caution and some kind of uncertainty towards what Alysa is unsure of. She’s curious.
Alysa starts. “What do you mean wh—“
”What made you look for it?” Amber cuts her off.
She’s shifting closer now, her foot bumps against Alysa’s on the floor and she has to refrain herself from where she sits on her bed from violently reeling her entire leg away. She tilts her chin up, meeting Amber’s eyes and she tries not to let it intimidate her; the way Amber is towering over her like a shadow keeping her trapped within, or how she’s looking at Alysa like she needs something—an answer, presumably, because that’s the only thing that exists within this realm of plausibility Alysa has tapped into.
The words almost catch in Alysa’s throat but she pushes through. She wets her lips and looks away just so she could escape Amber’s gaze boring through her skull, misses the split second where Amber shifts her eyes to lock onto her mouth and the way she swallows. “It was because of this morning, I think.”
Amber furrows her eyebrows, her eyes follow as they narrow. Alysa doesn’t make her wait. “The edit that you sent to me? Of KK and I…” she can almost hear Amber asking her ‘and what about it?’ in that sort of confused-yet-genuine tone of voice Alysa finds endearing sometimes. “It made me wonder if the fans have thought about you and I… that way, like, different, like—“
”More than friends?” Amber interrupts, her voice small. Alysa mumbles something in agreement, pinching the skin of her elbows while she has her arms crossed, a final attempt at self-comfort.
Amber feels the urge to reach into her own chest cavity and hold her heart in her hands just to see if it would help in calming down the crescendo of its rapid beating.
”You’re not really answering the question, though.” Amber tries, watching Alysa’s expression shift into something closer to irritation.
”Amber—“
”What you were doing when I walked into your room earlier.”
It’s a factual statement on Amber’s part, but Alysa’s starting to feel it prick at her skin, relentless. Her gaze is steady on Amber’s face, her breathing having the opposite effect as her lungs work to prevent her from suffocating because of how close the older woman is in front of her. It would be so easy for Alysa to extend her arms out and pull her closer and yet the thought still feels so distant, Amber still feels like she’s a million light years away.
Alysa attempts to stand, knees buckling and working overtime beneath her to keep her upright. She has to blink a few times before she could find it in herself to open her mouth. Amber is looking at her expectantly and she feels that prickling feeling once more, creeping up from beneath her skin and it feels like a threat.
”What the hell do you want me to say, Amber? That I want you? Because it seems pretty goddamn clear you know that from the way you were watching me get off,” Desperation rises in Alysa’s voice as she searches Amber’s eyes but all she sees is a deer caught in headlights and she’s crashing head-first into it.
Alysa breathes out the air she’d worked so hard to get into her lungs, inching closer so that she can feel the warmth of Amber’s breath against her face, hears the thump of her rapidly beating heart in the space between them. “I was thinking about you, okay? About how it’d feel like if—“ Alysa swallow, determined. “Shit, Amber, if only you knew how much it plagues me that I cannot have you—“
Alysa doesn’t realize it when Amber closes the gap between them and before she knows it, she’s being shut up by a softer pair of lips.
She almost stumbles but keeps her composure, capturing Amber’s bottom lip in between her own in return while her hands try to find something, anything to hold on to. She settles for the fabric of Amber’s jacket and feels the fervor kicking in and it’s almost feral—the way she breathes in Amber’s scent when she feels the woman’s hand on the back of her neck and she’s kissing her deeper, tongue slowly prodding into the space between her teeth.
She pulls away for a moment, lips redder than ever as she stares Amber down. Amber doesn’t say anything, just looks at her with glassy eyes and something akin to determination. Alysa leans back in, planting a kiss on the side of Amber’s face before her neck shifts to allow her lips to find its place on the taller girl’s neck. She could feel the way Amber’s breath hitches.
”Alysa, wait.”
She stops, cranes her neck away to look at Amber. It isn’t quite until she feels hands on her waist that she realizes that she’s kissing Amber. That Amber kissed her.
”Do you want this?” She lightly tugs on Amber’s jacket, voice dropping down to a whisper.
”I-I need this, I think,” Amber nods, lips ghosting against Alysa’s as she touches her forehead to the younger woman’s, her breathing heavy. “I don’t think you’ve any idea what you do to me, it’s so fucked up.”
Alysa giggles but her hands are slowly prying open Amber’s jacket in an attempt to get it off her body. Amber complies, shrugging it off and hears it hit the floor but she doesn’t pay it any mind as she backs Alysa into the bed. Her knees find their place pressed against the side of Alysa’s thighs, caging the girl in between her legs.
Alysa is looking up at her, something dangerously close to devotion gleaming in her eyes as she runs her nails along Amber’s hips and waist. Her name is uttered in a whisper and desperation flickers like fire in a hearth in Amber’s belly. She feels the warmth in the way Alysa whispers her name creep its way into her core and subconsciously—almost like it’s instinct, her hips press down against Alysa’s before she could find it in herself to think about it.
There’s a gasp and a groan and neither of them knew who made what noise, all they know is tha Alysa’s hands find purchase on Amber’s hips this time and she’s pushing her down once more.
”Amber…” Alysa pleads and she shifts, allowing room for her thigh to slot in perfectly between Amber’s legs. She leans up and blonde locks cascading brush the sides of her face as she finds Amber’s lips once more, a bit more desperate this time when she feels the movement of hips grinding against her thigh. She can tell Amber feels shy about it as she refuses to move further without Alysa’s hands on her waist, guiding her.
Amber’s moan is muffled by Alysa’s lips interlocked against her own. Her arms find themselves around Alysa’s shoulders and she threads a hand through the younger woman’s hair. She pulls away to pepper kisses along the nape of Alysa’s neck, nipping lightly at the skin beneath her jaw with enough bite to leave her breathless but not hard enough that it’ll leave a bruise. Alysa groans, hand splayed across the small of Amber’’s back while the other remains on the older woman’s waist, a firm push to encourage her to rub against Alysa’s thigh like how she did last time.
”Lean back,” Amber orders despite the whine that leaves her mouth seconds prior, “I wanna see you.” Alysa listens, leaning back on her arms now but it almost makes her ache having to pull her hands away from where they rested on Amber’s waist. Amber finds the courage to toy with the hem of the Saiki K t-shirt that she had gifted to Alysa last year during nationals. She got to watch Alysa’s face light up then when she gave it to her, and now she gets to watch all the blood rush to Alysa’s face as she snakes her hands up the girl’s torso.
Amber grips onto the hem of her shirt and Alysa takes this as a sign to raise her arms. Amber raises it over her head and tosses the fabric behind her so that it lands somewhere on the floor. Amber leaves goosebumps in her wake when she glides fingertips along smooth skin and she relishes in it, in the way Alysa’s body is trembling beneath her, squirming just to try to relieve the pressure that makes itself present between her legs, relishes in how much Alysa’s enjoying having to please her.
Her blonde hair falls from one shoulder when she leans in. Too close. Not close enough. Alysa doesn’t think Amber can ever be close enough but when she’s leaning in like this, hands next to hers where they are perched up to hold themselves up on the bed, warm breath against the shell of her ear which has already been tinged a sweet shade of red, Alysa almost wants her to pull away, perhaps give her room to breathe lest she ends up drowning in Amber’s scent and everything she leaves in her wake.
Amber’s lips are just inches away from the shell of Alysa’s ear. “Tell me what you’ve read about in those stories and I’ll give you what you want,” Amber’s voice is low and sultry when she whispers against her ear and Alysa has to hold back a moan that if she were ever to sound it out, she is sure it would just sound absolutely pathetic, eyes glued between the contrast of her own bare chest and Amber’s, still clad in the long-sleeve shirt she wore under her jacket.
”Getting bold, aren’t ya?” Alysa’s tone is all snark and no bite, eyes glinting with a blend of mischief and affection which Amber can see even in the dim lighting of her room.
”I know you need this,” Amber kisses her on the cheek. Watches Alysa’s cheeks flush. Then she rolls her hips against Alysa’s thigh again which feels really fucking good and gives her eyes she knows Alysa could never resist. “You need me.”
Alysa’s voice strains when she hooks her index and middle finger into the band of Amber’s sweatpants, tugging her forward. “You sure? I’m starting to think you need it more than I do.”
”And if I say someone out there has probably written about you doing this, would you?” Alysa bites her lip, a silent plea hides behind her deep brown eyes. She’d be a fucking liar if she says she doesn’t want to feel the warmth of Amber’s clothed cunt against her thigh again, and again and again and—
“If that’s what you want, then… yeah,” Amber’s response comes with a subtle roll of her hips and Alysa feels her sanity slipping away in real time.
“Let me help you out, ‘kay? You deserve this,” Alysa leans forward this time and Amber’s hips feel like home when she lets her hands find their way back to her. Amber has a timid look on her face when Alysa looks up at her. “Here, c’mon.”
Alysa rolls Amber’s top up her chest—getting distracted by the sight of tits directly in her face—helping the older woman get it over her head and off, joining Alysa’s shirt and her very own jacket on the floor. Alysa takes this moment to admire the artwork in front of her. Amber’s body is all solid strength and firm lines accentuating her muscles yet she carries with her a gentleness that Alysa feels as though only she is privy to in this space where they are the only two people that exist in this world.
“Like what you see?” Amber teases, to which Alysa nods frantically in response. “You can touch, Alysa.” Amber takes her hands as she says this, placing Alysa’s hands on her chest and the act has the younger woman taking in a sharp inhale of breath—she’s pathetically dizzy and Amber smiling down at her like that, all proud and smug, isn’t helping her case at all.
She moves to press a kiss to the skin that isn’t covered by her bra, all the while her eyes stay glued to Amber’s face—looking for something, anything, some sort of validation from Amber that’ll let her know that yes, she’s doing this right and yes, it feels good because she so desperately wants to. Alysa’s chest aches at the thought of her and everything be damned if satisfying Amber is the last thing she’ll do.
Amber is the one who reaches around to unclasp her bra, holding her breath as she gauges Alysa’s reaction. Alysa is steady, careful when she gently takes a nipple into her mouth, her tongue circling around it and naturally Amber’s hand finds its way into waves of dark brown and blonde, her breath quickening when Alysa squeezes the one not in her mouth and prods at the sensitive nub with her thumb, she’ll switch her attention between the two and all the while she’s looking at Amber with those sweet puppy dog eyes—
“So pretty, Alysa.”
Alysa stops. A shiver gently runs up her spine and it’s pleasant and she follows its direction, chasing it when she leaves open-mouthed kisses from Amber’s chest all the way to her throat and something bold blooms in her chest and she bites at Amber’s neck this time, not enough to hurt but enough that it leaves a mark which she soothes with her tongue and she doesn’t regret it when Amber rewards her with the prettiest whimper. Alysa decides she wants to hear it again.
“Amber, mmm…” she drags her teeth along Amber’s neck, stopping just beneath her ear and delights in the soft giggle that escapes the woman in her lap because she’s ticklish, because of course she is, and Alysa’s teeth nips at her earlobe when she hears it. “Use me, Amber, please?”
Amber’s eyebrows are raised so high Alysa thinks that for a second there’s a possibility they might blend in with her hairline. “Oh?”
Alysa hums in agreement, her hips lift slightly from the mattress as she rolls them forward, creating friction so Amber could feel it, so she could feel her. Amber grins and she can’t help squeezing her thighs together around Alysa’s. She takes one of Alysa’s hands this time and slowly—painstakingly slow, actually—guides her hand to the waistband of her sweatpants, slipping past that barrier and all the while Alysa is holding her breath, heart thumping in a way that might raise concern for the average person. She tries to glance up at Amber but in truth there does not exist a universe in which Alysa could possibly keep her eyes away from a goddess who’s guiding her hand to places she has only dreamed of reaching.
Alysa stills when she feels it. Like, actually feels it, and Amber here is casually covering Alysa’s fingers in her own slick and suddenly she’s pulling her hand away and Alysa wants to be upset at how smug she looks when she does so. Wants to wipe it off her face somehow.
“Jesus, Amber,” Alysa says breathlessly. Fuck. “Please—”
“Okay, okay, relax…” Amber meets her halfway for a kiss and Alysa becomes almost too distracted by the softness of Amber’s tongue delivering kitten licks to the inside of her mouth to notice that Amber’s grinding against her thigh. Alysa wraps an arm around her waist but doesn’t move an inch, letting Amber control her own movement against Alysa’s leg.
Alysa can’t help the satisfied sound that escapes her because good god, there is a different kind of satisfaction that Alysa finds upon proving herself to be useful. On the ice she allows herself to simply be, rejecting expectations of those who want to mould her into somebody she knows she’ll never be, everything she does is an ode to her art and to herself. Alysa Liu is not pliant or malleable when she is inside the rink, she is obstinate and headstrong, but she finds that those rules do not apply here—no, not in the privacy of her own bedroom. Not when she’s asking Amber Glenn to use her like this, not when Amber Glenn looks so perfect in this light and certainly not when Amber Glenn is moaning her name as she grinds her clothed pussy against Alysa’s thigh just because Alysa wants her to.
Alysa brings her hand to her lips—the hand that Amber had let slip past her panties just because she wanted to show her how wet she was—and takes her ring and middle finger into her mouth, making a show of cleaning her fingers in a way she knows will drive Amber mad.
Alysa grabs her hips with both of her hands to help Amber find a steady rhythm for herself, shifting the position of her leg and relishing in the way Amber mewls when her cunt presses against the fat of Alysa’s thigh.
”Fuck, Amber, thank you,” Alysa breathes out, “For this. I needed it. Shit. Need you,” she presses a hand to the small of Amber’s back, letting her set her own pace now.
“I’m—fuck, Lys, I’m close,” Amber chokes out, hands grasping for purchase on Alysa’s bare shoulders. Electric builds up along her spine and intensifies when she feels Alysa’s fingernails drag along her back. The ball of heat sitting in her belly grows bigger with every movement of her hips and so Amber goes faster.
She stills, body pressed against Alysa’s when a sharp gasp escapes her followed by something that sounds like a strangled moan. Her hips jerk against Alysa as she pants and pants and pants and before she knows it her hands end up on the back of Alysa’s neck and she’s pulling the girl in for a kiss.
She hears a low, satisfied moan leave Alysa’s lips as she pants into her mouth and Amber pulls away in this exact moment, eyes looking down on Alysa like there is a hunger yet to be sated deep in the depths of her gut. One hand moves from Alysa’s shoulder to her sternum, pushing gently. “Lie down for me, will you?”
There’s no other word to describe the look on Alysa’s face other than star-struck as she complies, shifting her body and lying back with her head comfortably on top of the pillow beneath her when Amber gets up and hooks fingers into ruined sweats and pulls them down, a smirk pulling at the edge of her lips when she sees a hint of Alysa’s smiley from where her mouth is ajar, just… admiring.
Because Amber is totally, completely naked now and Alysa doesn’t know what to do. For a slight second considers getting down on her knees and worshipping the ground Amber walks on.
Amber kneels on her bed, then. “Can I take these off?” she asks, hands already digging into her hips where her boxer briefs sit and Alysa nods and she flinches in embarrassment upon feeling the string of slick between her folds and the fabric of her briefs separate.
”Oh, look at you,” Amber coos. “Pretty girl.”
Alysa has to resist the urge to rock her hips against the air, preening at Amber’s praise. She swallows when strong hands find themselves on her knees and spreads her thighs apart and Amber looks just about ready to salivate when she looks down at how wet Alysa is. Her hands drag themselves downward to the inside of Alysa’s thighs then back up to her knees, she looks up and Alysa holds back a moan when she finds Amber’s eyes piercing into her.
She feels Amber shift onto her stomach now, a ghost of her breath against the inside of Alysa’s thigh makes her squirm.
”I’m willing to bet this feels so much better than the fanfiction you read on there,” Amber nods to the phone that’s been left forgotten on the side of the bed. Alysa huffs in amusement, it sounds something like a laugh and she prepares for a rebuttal but the noise dies in her throat when she feels a hot tongue press against her folds and drags itself up.
”Oh my god, Amber,” a pretty whine leaves her throat and Amber wraps her hands around both of Alysa’s thighs before repeating the motion in an attempt to see if she could get Alysa to make that noise again, only to end up with much more than she bargained for.
Amber moves her tongue in circles against Alysa’s clit before slightly moving downwards and repeatedly pushing it into her cunt, fucking into the girl above her and Amber can’t help the grin that tugs at her lips upon hearing that pathetic whimper coming from Alysa.
Alysa looks down and finds Amber looking at her, icy blue melting into something darker. Arousal, Alysa recognizes it and when Amber moves her tongue in a way that allows her to gather all the slick pooling at her pussy before trailing upwards and laying her tongue flat against the bundle of nerves, Alysa doesn’t question the way her hand immediately finds itself tangling her fingers into Amber’s hair, doesn’t question it when Amber sucks and she just about loses it, pulling at blonde locks and grinding her hips against tongue, lips, nose.
She sucks air through her teeth when Amber moans and she feels it vibrate from her cunt and throughout her entire body. “Amber, please, please—“
Amber pulls away just slightly. “Please what, sweetheart?”
Alysa’s hips jerk in response to the petname. “Make me cum,” she grinds her hips forward, desperately hoping to feel Amber’s tongue on her once more. “I wanna cum so bad, Amber—fuck, please?”
Alysa’s mind is a mess when she speaks and she doesn’t bother picking up the pieces, not when Amber decides to delve back in to flick her tongue repeatedly against her clit, going back and forth on her cunt and her nails dig into her thighs and it rips a sob from Alysa’s throat, not when she’s coming undone on Amber’s tongue, flashes of searing white behind her eyelids when she chants Amber’s name like a mantra.
Amber squeezes her thighs as Alysa slowly comes down from her high, looking up to see Alysa’s arm draped over her eyes while she swallows and pants. She pulls herself up and lays her entire body weight on top of the other woman, peppering kisses on Alysa’s face as the arm covering her face slowly moves away.
”You did so good, Alysa.”
Slim fingers stroke halo’d hair and Alysa can only flash a toothy grin as she looks up at Amber, still catching her breath. “Jesus Christ,” she huffs.
”Hey, give me a little credit.”
Alysa snorts at that. Her hands find purchase on Amber’s hips and she finds herself leaning closer. “Let me return the favor?”
Soft lips meet hers and she finds it somewhat addictive, tasting herself on Amber’s lips. The woman on top of her pulls away. Unfortunate, Alysa thinks to herself. “Mmm, I was grinding on you and tired you out and you still wanna return the favor? Sweet girl,” Amber smiles and Alysa is enamoured, not paying any mind towards the fact that it feels as though the brightness in the room has gone up a few notches.
”But you’re so beautiful,” Alysa’s hand snakes downward, nudging between the crevices of Amber’s thighs. She cups the wetness between her legs, wrapping an arm around Amber’s back and before she knows it, she’s being pulled down so that she’s laying next to Alysa now and Alysa listens to the way her breath stutters as she presses herself to Amber’s side, staring down at her like she’d hung the moon and stars with her own bare hands. “So fucking pretty.”
Alysa wastes no time pushing a finger into the slick heat between Amber’s legs and swallowing the moan that escapes her. Alysa’s heart feels giddy at how smoothly it slips inside of her and she curls her fingers, trying to draw out more of the pretty noises that Amber seemingly likes to bless her ears with.
She carefully pushes in another finger, maneuvering her hand so that her palm rubs against Amber’s clit when she decides to thrust her fingers into her pussy at a deliciously slow pace. Amber’s eyebrows are scrunched, her mouth falling open and Alysa can’t help the satisfactory grin that tugs at her lips.
It doesn’t take long for Amber to cum, not when Alysa’s fingers are pressing inside her in all the right spots and especially not when she’s looking at her like that, and so she lets herself fall apart at the seams in the palm of Alysa’s hand, chasing the white hot pleasure that has her thinking for a split second that she might be coming face-to-face with a higher power.
She lunges forward and kisses Alysa like the concept of tomorrow does not exist to the both of them, finding purchase in the blur of blonde and brown hair, it’s messy and desperate and it’s everything she’s ever dreamt of wanting. Amber playfully nips at Alysa’s bottom lip and relishes in the surprised squeak it elicits out of her.
It doesn’t take long before Alysa’s forcing her hand between clenched thighs once more and Amber reaches down to grab her wrist like it’s instinct.
”Alysa, I can’t—“
Alysa makes a shushing noise. “No, no, you can, you’re so good, okay?” Feeling Amber’s grasp around her wrist falter, she takes this opportunity to circle her clit with two fingers, holding Amber down with her arm when her hips instinctively jerk up.
”Just one more, okay?” Alysa whispers against Amber’s ear and it all feels like too much for her, too much and she feels Alysa tenderly pressing a kiss to the spot where a tear runs down the side of her face. Neither of them acknowledge the obscene sound coming from Alysa’s fingers making contact with her warm cunt or the way Alysa’s significantly applying pressure to where Amber feels her the most.
”Baby, I can’t—oh fuck—“
Her wrist is sore and it doesn’t help the way that Amber’s thighs are clenched around them but Alysa thinks it’s so, so worth it when she draws a choked sound out of Amber’s throat and feels her gushing against her fingers, hands trembling as she grips onto Alysa’s hand and pulls at it in a silent plea.
Alysa is quick to hold her, one arm wrapped around her waist and the other brushing away strands of hair sticking to Amber’s sweat-drenched face.
”’M sorry… you did so good, perfect girl,” Alysa murmurs against damp skin, kissing at the junction where Amber’s neck meets her shoulder, watching carefully as the gears in her head click together and she’s able to bring herself back to earth.
”Where the fuck did you learn to do that?” Amber huffs out a credulous laugh, breathless in all her glory and she resists the urge to thumb at the constellation of freckles that litter Alysa’s face when she mirrors her grin.
”I have my ways,” Alysa winks. Of course she’s being smug about it.
”Was it in the fic you were reading?” Amber has never seen a smile fall from someone’s face so fast.
”I think you can shut up about that now.”
”You know what? I don’t think I want to,” Amber pulls her down and Alysa’s head finds the space against her neck like it’s automatic. Amber doesn’t comment on the fact that she could feel the warmth emanating from Alysa’s face against her skin, or the hint of a smile blooming.
A beat passes. Or a couple. Perhaps it was three beats. Neither of them are counting. Alysa’s voice breaks the comfortable silence eventually.
“I feel icky.”
“Wow, sorry the sex was bad I guess,” Amber laughs when Alysa’s face appears in her vision, clicking her tongue in irritation.
”No, you idiot, I mean we should shower.”
”Together?”
”Your tongue was just inside me, I think you’ll survive helping me wash my hair for one night.”
Amber grins but her heart skips a beat regardless. The intimacy of washing Alysa’s hair would beat anything they’ve done tonight, she’s sure.
Alysa doesn’t complain when Amber forcefully pulls her out of bed and walks them to the bathroom—despite being the one who proposed that idea. She finds that there’s nothing to complain about, really, not when Amber’s watching her longingly through the bathroom mirror while she brushes her teeth. Looks at her like she’s something more.
She likes this. Loves it, maybe.
She definitely loves it.
————————————
Isabeau finds Amber and Alysa the next morning, the promise of breakfast contributing to the bounce in her step. There’s a pause when she stops in front of the duo, suspicion hanging thick in the air as she analyzes their faces.
“You guys have that morning-after glow only reserved for people who’ve boinked at the Olympics.”
The response comes in unison.
”What the hell are you talking about?”