A/N: No specific warnings apply, other than angst and arguing and sex. Average for a work of mine.
Valeria had a problem, and she knew it was a problem.
She liked it when you got mad at her. Yelled at her.
To everyone else, she would seem like she’s the boss, the one who wears the pants and runs the house. To everyone else, you seemed like the doting girlfriend who was perfectly kind and sweet all of the time.
And you were. You were kind and sweet and loving, but sometimes…sometimes you got bossy, and she hated that she loved it, hated that she craved it. She craved the kind of firm love you gave, like there was never a question of how much you loved her.
You slipped on an old tee shirt of hers just as she came through the bedroom door, falling onto the bed with a groan.
“Mami, it’s been a long day. I could sleep for twenty hours.”
You laughed, sitting down gently beside her to rub her back. You hadn’t seen her in a couple days—a trip to San Juan, unprompted, due to a meeting with her team to handle some kind of emergency that didn't seem all that important at first.
But she went, promising she’d be back, and she held to her promise.
After she showered and relaxed for a bit, she followed you into the living room, promptly laying down and going on her phone.
You let her for a while, then noticed she wasn’t touching you. Normally, her feet would be at least touching your hip, or her head would be in your lap. She hadn’t even hugged you since she’d gotten home.
You sighed loudly, and she didn’t even look up. You decided that just wouldn't do.
Her eyes snapped up, confusion on her face. “Did you say something?”
“…Everything okay?” She slowly set her phone on the table, and you smiled brightly.
“Now it is.” You crawled over the couch, curling up on her chest and grabbing her hands to lay on you just right. She chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead and rubbing your back under the shirt.
“You know, you can just ask me to get off of my phone. I don’t mind to give you attention, I’m just kind of…in my own world, sometimes. I need prompting.”
“It’s really not. Try it next time.”
Next time turned out to be two days later, after a long day at work, and you went to her place to see her after. You came in to her typing away on her computer, probably answering some random email.
You bit your lip, steeling your nerves.
The second the words were out of your mouth, her computer was shut and she was walking to you, taking your head in her hands and tilting your face just right to kiss you fervently. Your hands didn't know where to land, at first, so you settled them on her waist and whimpered slightly into the kiss.
“Pretty,” she mumbled, kissing your cheek. “You want me?”
You nodded, eyes half closed and body limp.
“I need you to fuck me.” You said, soft.
“Try again. Demand it this time.”
You stood up straighter, exhaling sharply. “I need it. Fuck me.” Your voice was firm, a little demanding but still needy.
“Good girl,” she purred, then pushed you against the door. You gasped into the kiss, feeling her hands run over your body with a firm touch that you adored. She knew just how to get you where she wanted you, in the palm of her hand and needy.
“Fuck, you always look so beautiful. What am I gonna do with you?” She kissed down your neck, crouching to reach your height. “Need to take your clothes off.”
You whined, wiggling in her arms and kicking your heels off, and melted at her smirk. She deftly unbuttoned your slacks, then shoved her hand in to find your center.
You moaned, sharp and sweet, clutching her arms to hold on as she worked you over, hard and fast. You felt the tingles of an orgasm already.
“See how good it feels?” She whispered into your ear, nipping at the sensitive skin there. “Just ask for what you want from me. I’ll always give it to you.”
“Fuck,” you gasped, arching into her. Her free hand slipped behind your back, holding you to her. You came harshly, bright spots showing under your eyelids.
“Good, you’re so good.” She groaned, pulling her hand free and licking her fingers. She held your eyes, mischievous. “Go to my room. Get on the bed. I’ll be right there.”
You pouted. “You don’t wanna come with me?”
“Getting you some water, baby girl. Go.” She smacked your ass, gently pushing you in that direction.
A thought crossed your mind as you took your first steps, and you acted before you could stop yourself. You turned to her, unbuttoning your top and shedding it, right there on the floor. You slipped your pants off, next, and watched her eyes darken when she saw you in just your lace bra and panties.
“Joda, mi amor. Venga.” She groaned. “You’re killing me.”
“That’s the plan.” You winked. You ran and jumped on her bed, laughing when she set the water down and pounced on you, kissing you and sucking on your bottom lip.
“Let me fuck you right,” she said, borderline desperate. “Please?”
“You don’t need to beg. I want you.” You moaned, feeling her thigh press up into your center. “Fuck, just fuck me. Do something.”
She ripped your underwear taking them off. You frowned at her, but she just shook her head.
“I’ll buy you better. Then probably rip them again. I don’t care.” She stood, then pulled you to the edge of the bed in one swift motion. Her mouth latched onto you like she was starving for it, and you moaned sharply through the feeling of her firm tongue pressing into you.
You reached down, grabbing her hair and pulling her closer. Her nails dug into your hips where she held you down, red blooming over your skin. The pain was so sharp but it felt so good, too good, and you felt yourself try to grind into her.
She pulled back, saliva connecting her to you still. “Stay still. Let me.”
“Oh my god,” you said, breathing quickly. “Fuck. You’re gonna kill me.”
“That’s the plan.” She said, echoing your words. “You get what you want when you ask.”
“Baby, I have to stay late tonight.” She sighed, her voice echoing from the room she’d stepped into to call you.
“Why?” You pouted, even though she couldn’t see you. “I want you home.”
You didn’t really need her home, but she’d been staying late, trying to work out the tiny kinks in her album.
“I know, but I really have to figure this out. I’m so sorry.”
You sighed. “It’s fine. I just miss you.”
“I’ll be there when you wake up.” She promised. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” You hung up, angry at the situation. Not necessarily at her, but you missed her, so you’re mad at her and the situation.
You wrap the blanket around your shoulders, determined to stay up and wait for her. Nalia laid on the couch next to you, her head barely peaking through the blanket. Just her little nose.
“You miss your mom, too?” She whimpered, and you felt tears prickle in your eyes. “Yeah, me too.”
You fell asleep, Nalia following close behind.
“Hey, wake up.” Someone poked your shoulder, and you frowned before you could see who it was.
You opened your eyes, seeing Mari holding Nalia in her arms like a baby. You groaned, then sat straight up.
“Where’s Valeria?” You mumbled, wiping the sleep from your eyes.
“She fell asleep at the studio. I was nearby, wanted to make sure you were okay.” She sighed. “And tell you to go get her. I don’t want her driving.”
You stood, ignoring that you were in your pajamas. She raised an eyebrow at you, watching you put your shoes on, getting progressively more irritated.
“Yo, are you good?” She asked, setting Nalia down gently.
“No. I’m mad. Can you feed her?” You grabbed your keys, then your wallet, then sighed. “Not at you. I’m mad at her. She promised me she’d be home.”
“Well, she was really locked in—“
“It doesn’t matter. If you tell me you’ll be home, you better fucking be home.” You slammed the door as you walked out, then drove the ten minutes there in complete silence.
You walked through the doors of the studio, waving at the front desk as you walked back to her booth. The door was shut, the lights still on. When you opened the door, you didn’t expect to see Mauro knocked out over the board, snoring.
Valeria was asleep on the couch, face down, one leg cast off to the floor. She never snored, but she did have a tiny pool of drool on the leather.
You crossed your arms, then gently (maybe) kicked her leg. She stirred, then opened her eyes. She smiled softly at you, then her face dropped.
“Yeah, fuck.” You scoffed. “What the hell?”
“Mami, I’m sorry. I lost track of time, and sat down, and—“
“No me importa.” You said, louder than you intended. “If you say you’ll be home, you should fucking be home.”
“Stop. Don’t fucking argue with me right now. Do you see what I’m wearing?”
Her eyes traced up and down your body, then she sighed. “Pajamas.”
“Do you know what fucking time it is?”
She checked her watch, then rubbed her eyes. “Six.”
“Six. In the fucking morning. I’m supposed to be asleep!” You shouted, startling Mauro awake. He quickly gauged the situation, then tried to get up, but you pointed at him. “Don’t you fucking dare.”
You saw a flash of a grin on Valeria's face, and you felt your own turn redder than the lights still left on in the booth. Mauro stepped between the two of you, his back turned to her and his hands up in the universal symbol for calm down.
“Ay, mírame. Do not tell her what to do.” Valeria said, stepping out from behind him and grabbing his shoulder. “Don’t.”
“Dude, she’s screaming at you at six in the morning. That’s fucking insane behavior.”
“Don’t talk about her like that, either. Mama, go in the recording booth. I need to talk to him.” She motioned toward the door, and you froze, looking between the two of them.
Unbidden, you felt tears rise up, resting just above your lower eyelashes. She deflated, just a little, realizing the gravity of the situation.
You were hurt, and now embarrassed. Embarrassed at your actions. Embarrassed that Mauro had scolded you, essentially. Hurt that she didn’t come home when she said she would, and hurt that you woke up alone.
“Go, mami. I’ll come get you, okay?” She rubbed your shoulder, and you nodded firmly. Once you got behind the door, you realized you couldn’t hear them.
You could only see them speaking, gesturing wildly.
You tried to read their lips, but you’d never been good at that, so you just turned and sat in the chair.
After what felt like forever, the door opened, Valeria stepping through soundlessly and crouching in front of you.
“Look at me.” She said, voice soft. “Don’t cry, baby. I’m sorry.”
“I shouldn’t have acted like that in front of him.” You wiped your eyes, only to have more tears replace them. “I’m embarrassed.”
“What did I say? Ask me for what you want, right?” At your nod, she continued. “This goes with that. Demand better from me, even if it means you get angry. I know better. You know that I know better.”
“You aren’t mad at me?” You asked, voice small. She tilted your chin up, pressing a soft, loving kiss to your lips.
“No. I like it when you get mad. Means you care enough to fight with me when it matters.”
“Is she coming to this party, or not?” You asked, sighing into the phone. You were exhausted from running around, trying to get ready for this, because Valeria had sworn up and down that it was important that you go.
It wasn’t just a party. It was a fiftieth birthday celebration for someone incredibly important to her, and it was a black tie event. You’d bought a floor length gown, a beautiful green and sparkly number. Heels, jewelry, the works.
“I don’t know, I can’t get in touch with her.” Mari said, and you could tell it made her anxious. You knew where she was, having checked her location numerous times. At the studio, working on something, but she’d asked you to make this a priority. You’d assumed she had done the same.
“It’s fine. She’ll show up, or she won’t.” You hung up, making your way to the bar, stopping when people asked to speak with you. You weren’t incredibly well known, but if you knew Valeria, they’d know you.
You managed to make it to the bar, finally ordering a drink. Your phone hadn’t alerted you, and you determined that she wasn’t coming.
What bothers you the most is that this isn’t your scene. You aren’t meant for parties or networking. The extent of networking that you go through are emails, for Christ’s sake.
“Stop it,” you muttered to yourself. “Stop.”
You finished your drink quickly, looking around for anyone to be nearby for someone to talk to. And you realized…you hardly knew anyone here. You’d be here for hours, by yourself, and have no way of getting to know anyone.
“Here by yourself?” A woman said, sliding up next to you. “I’m Melissa.”
You introduced yourself quietly, watching the bartenders work. They all chatted between themselves, making jokes and laughing about nothing. You wished you had someone like that.
“My girlfriend,” you swallowed. “She didn’t show up. She basically told me this was the most important thing of the year, and she’s not here, and I don’t know anyone.”
Melissa patted your shoulder, her hand lingering. “I’m sorry to hear that. Sounds like this happens a lot.”
You shrugged. “She’s busy. I can’t fault her for caring for her job.”
“You can’t?” She shook her head. “I think you can—not in the way you think, but you can certainly care that she didn’t even—“
“Babe, I’m so sorry,” Valeria said, stepping behind you. “I completely forgot. I have to go see people, can you get me a drink?”
She walked away without saying anything else, and you just sat there, frozen. The feeling bloomed in your chest, sharp and hot, of anger.
You smiled at Melissa, forcing your tears back. “I’m gonna go home.”
She nodded, smiling sympathetically. “Nice to meet you.”
You looked around one last time, seeing her laughing with her friends, uncaring and happy. There wasn’t a place for you here, or in her life.
Your car was parked just outside, so you didn’t have to wait for a valet or anything special. She’d figure out a way home, but it wouldn’t be to your place. You didn’t want her there, and that’d probably be the second place she looked for you.
So when you showed up at Mari’s house, still dressed up and crying, she let you in. Her house was warm and homey, always a safe space to not be bothered. You unshared your location with Valeria, and took the clothes offered to you.
When you made yourself comfortable on the couch, you didn’t sleep. You cried, clutching your chest and wishing things were different, somehow. A life where you didn’t feel outside of it all and felt included in the little things and never got left at parties or never had an answer back.
This wasn't meant for you. You just wished you could have realized it sooner.
You woke up to the sound of arguing, clearly on the front porch, but loud enough that it would likely wake the neighborhood with how aggressive it was.
“She turned off her location, left me at that party, and never told me if she was okay. And now you’re saying you won’t let me in your house to see her?” Valeria yelled, then scoffed. “This is ridiculous. You’re my friend, Mari.”
“As your friend, I’m telling you, you need to leave her alone.”
“I don’t even know what I did!” She yelled back. “She didn’t talk to me about it!”
“Why does she have to?” The woman responded, opening the door. “Come on, Miko. You know better.”
The door shut softly, as though you were still sleeping. You were sat up, though, wide awake and tears streaming down your face.
Mari sighed, sitting beside you softly. “I love her to the end of the world, but you don’t have to deal with this.”
You shook your head, rolling your lips in and letting out a shaky breath. “I really love her. But I can’t…I can’t live like this.”
“You shouldn’t have to, amiga. Hell. I wouldn’t deal with it.”
You laughed wryly. “As though she would ever do this to you.”
She sighed, standing and squeezing your shoulder. “Stay as long as you need. Want me to have the locks changed on your apartment?”
You shook your head, laying back down. “She’ll get the memo.”
The two weeks that followed were a mess of texts and calls that went unanswered, knocks at your door that you ignored. You went to work, then home, and let yourself cry as you needed to.
You realized it wasn’t just the party, or the late nights, or anything. It was that despite telling you to ask her for attention, you tried and tried to do that. She gradually stopped doing that, saying she just needed to finish one thing. And then another. Then saying she didn’t have time, sorry.
“Stop it.” You mumbled, stumbling through the routine you’d been learning. “Lock the fuck in.”
“The talking to yourself is getting creepy.” Your friend, Alejandra, laughed. “What’s going on?”
“I think I broke up with her.” You sighed. “I never said the words, but I stopped everything.”
“Oh, I knew about that.” She waved her hand. “You’ve been like a kicked puppy.”
“It’s true. Come on, babe. You’re a rockstar, a phenomenal dancer, and you’re letting this fuck you up? You’ve been through breakups before.” She stood, pulling you to your feet. “You do realize all this training is to go on tour with her, right?”
“Yeah.” You shrugged. “Maybe I’ll suck enough that I won’t have to go.”
She laughed. “Girl, your fifty percent is our one hundred percent. Get it together, please. For me.”
You met her eyes over your water bottle, seeing the borderline panicked look on her face. You sighed, nodding to her.
“Yeah, I’ll get it together. Not fully. But I can give fifteen more percent.”
You made it through the rest of the rehearsal, always the last one to leave. You waved goodbye to the security guard and upon entering the parking lot, saw Valeria, leaning against your car.
“I don’t want to talk to you,” you called, walking over slowly. “I’m pretty sure you know that.”
“I can assume, by the way you’ve ignored me the past two weeks. This was the first time you’ve actually gone to rehearsal since then, so I waited.”
“It’s not safe to wait in parking lots,” you sighed. “Did you at least wait in your car?”
“Nah, I was inside for a while. I sat in the viewing room. You looked good, baby.”
“Don’t call me baby right now,” you scoffed. “Please leave me alone.”
She sighed, walking to the driver’s side door of your car, reaching for your hand. You snatched it back, and felt your face turn red.
“There she is.” She laughed. “Come on. Lay it on me.”
“Lay what on you?” You asked, tightening your grip on the strap of your bag.
“Why you’re ignoring me, why you’re mad.”
You tilted your head, thinking. “I don’t think I will.”
“Huh?” She asked, genuine confusion and bewilderment spreading over her features. “C’mon, baby, talk to me.”
“Please. Just…go. Okay? I’m not interested.”
She stepped closer then, almost in your face. “What do you mean by that? Do you want me to leave, or do you want me to stay? Do you want to talk this through, scream at me, hit me? Okay, I can take it. You want space for a little while? Sure, I’ll make it work. What I can’t take, is you ignoring me, refusing to speak to me or answer the door. I’m scared, okay? I love you more than anyone else in this world, and—“ she choked on her words. “You’re not…this isn’t you. This is your life, yeah, but I can’t imagine mine without you in it. Give me an answer.”
You rolled your lips in, feeling tears build in your eyes. She made a noise, deep in her chest, like it pained her to see you cry.
“Do you know how it feels to place last?” You whispered. “Do you?”
“What?” She asked back. “What do you mean?”
“Do you know how it feels to always be left behind? Ignored? Fuck—do you know how it feels to be made a priority, for once in your entire fucking life, and then that’s just,” you snapped your fingers. “Taken away?”
She remained silent, but understanding dawned on her, suddenly. “Baby—“
“No. No. It’s my fucking turn to talk.” You said loudly. “You were so good at first. I asked for you, you were there. I understood all of the fucking times work had to come first, I understood random meetings and special things you did. But you’d at least tell me.
“Then, you started to pull away. Longer nights, not showing up when you said you would. Barely a text or a call or fucking remembering that I had a showcase that you didn’t show up for, even though you ‘promised.’ Then you say you’re sorry. Sorry doesn’t mean anything if you don’t fucking fix the problem.”
You stepped closer, putting your finger to her chest. Her jaw was dropped open, but her eyes flickered down to your finger.
“I said I was talking!” You cried. “You wanted me to talk to you? I’m fucking talking. I’m pissed, Valeria. I’m so mad that I can’t focus. I’m hurt and sick to my stomach that someone I love doesn’t fucking care about me!”
Your chest heaved. You didn’t mean to yell.
“Fuck, I’m sorry. You need to go, okay? Just go. I’ll talk to you when I’m ready.”
“Are we over? Just tell me that.” She pleaded.
You met her blue eyes, and tried not to flinch at her tears, the way her hands shook.
You sighed in defeat. “No, we’re not over. I love you. I need you to leave me alone.”
With that, she grabbed your face, kissing your forehead three times, like she always did.
“I love you more than you know.”
The first stop of the tour was at home, so you finished packing up your bags to go ahead of you to the next venue, all the way in California.
Your friends would be watching your cat, who was incredibly angry that she’d be without you, but you planned to take your two week long break back at home with her. Spare you from your entire bloodline being cursed, or something.
The doorbell rang, and you looked to her in confusion. She just meowed, walking toward the door, and you figured out who it was.
Valeria. Chicken only went to the door for her.
You opened the door slowly, holding Chicken in your hands. “Hi.”
“Hello, mi amor.” She smiled, reaching out to pet her head. She squirmed in your arms, and you passed her over, sighing.
“You can come in, lock the door behind you.”
She did as you asked, stepping through and toeing her shoes off by the door. Her outfit was similar to the one she wore in the music video, down to the white socks.
She looked beautiful. You told her as such, and she smiled softly.
You looked down at yourself and laughed. “Val, this is your tee shirt, I’m not wearing pants, and I think there’s cereal in my hair.”
She reached forward, picking a piece of it out of your hair. “Still, just a beautiful girl. I’m always going to say so.”
You blushed, turning your back to her and shoving another jacket in your backpack. She stepped behind you, kissing your cheek, then down the side of your neck.
“Valeria,” you warned, fighting a smile. “We have to leave in two hours, and I’m not done being angry with you.”
“I know,” she mumbled. “I just miss you.”
You turned to her, meeting her eyes and tucking her hair behind her ears. She scrunched her face, then pulled it back out. “What was that for?”
“I miss you too,” you whispered. “But, I have every right to be angry. I just don’t want to fight with you. It’s your first show of a tour you’ve dreamed of for years, sweetheart.”
She exhaled shakily. “I’m so incredibly nervous, mi amor. I don’t know what to do or where to put it.”
“What do you think would help?” You caught her eyes again, nodding. “Hey. Look at me. What can I do?”
“Just…kiss me. Like you mean it. Take my mind off of all of this and remind me what really matters.”
You paused, just for a millisecond. She deflated, but then you reached up and pulled her to you, kissing her like this is the last time you’d ever feel her. You fell to the couch, having her straddle your lap, a reverse of your normal position. She gasped into you, her hands clenching into your hair, tugging it lightly.
You wouldn’t be deterred, or distracted. Not this time—it seemed like all the attention with sex and intimacy was always on you, but she never let you focus on her for long. Your heart beat wildly in your chest, the rush of having her like this taking over.
You pulled back, just a little, to let her catch her breath. Her eyes were blown wildly with lust—a surrender you hadn’t expected, but would cherish.
She rolled you both, placing herself underneath you, and you took it as the invitation it was. She whimpered into your mouth, and you left it, trailing your lips down and sucking little bruises into her neck and collarbone. She had plenty of makeup to cover them—it wouldn’t matter.
Her shirt came off with little fanfare, a means to an end, and when you took her nipple between your lips, she grabbed your forearms and squeezed hard enough that you felt the blood rush away. The bruising would be difficult to cover, but it felt like a high you couldn’t beat.
You trailed down her stomach, following the path of her cherry blossoms, letting her keep ahold of you to ground herself, and you, inherently.
“You’re so pretty baby,” you cooed, watching little tears drop from her eyes. “Feel better?”
She shook her head vehemently. “Need more, princesa.”
“Where do you want me?” You whispered. “Tell me.”
“Fuck,” she gasped, then took her hands to her jeans. The bruises stood out against the pallor of her skin—dark and pink. “Take—take off my pants, please.”
“Lift up for me,” she complied instantly—the same rush you felt earlier came back with a vengeance. “Good,”
She whimpered again, and you laughed softly. “You like that? When I tell you you’re good?”
She nodded, more tears leaking from the corners of her eyes and falling into her hair. “I like it when you say it.”
“Yeah?” You murmured, smoothly leaning up and kissing her as your fingers found her center, over her underwear. She smiled softly at you, throwing her arms over your neck and scratching up your back. “You like it when you’re like this? All pliant for me?”
“Yes, please, give me more.” She kissed your cheek, then your nose. “Touch me, properly.”
You slipped your fingers beneath her underwear—moaning at the feeling of her, so soft for you, always. “How many do you want?”
“Just—“ she gasped, then bit her lip as she moaned. You saw a sparkle of blood pool, and your eyes widened. “Just one, that’s what I want.”
“Okay, sweet girl.” You grinned wildly, then stopped. “Beg me for it.”
Her chest heaved, her lungs expanding wider than when she’s performing. Her blue eyes, wider than ever, met your own. She fought it, just a little, but you saw the resolve slip.
“Please. Just keep going, baby. I want this so bad, I’ve been wanting it. I need you.” She held your eyes, and you crumbled like a house of cards.
You twitched, just barely, and she relaxed into the resumed movement of your fingers. She pulled you back closer to her, her hands going everywhere and nowhere. She kissed you like you were air, and she hadn’t breathed in for years.
She stilled beneath you, letting out a moan that was so sharp that it sounded like it wasn’t coming from her. She clenched around your fingers, pulling you back into her. You worked her through it, peppering little kisses all over her face. Her tears had dried, but her eyes were just slightly red from them.
“You okay?” You asked, voice soft.
She exhaled shakily, nodding. “Yeah, I’m okay.” She kissed you gently, tucking your hair behind your ear. “I love you. Thank you.”
You smiled. “I love you too.”
Despite all the nerves Valeria had claimed she had, her performance didn't falter, not even for a beat. The crowd fed into her energy and the dancers felt it, dancing harder than they ever had in rehearsals.
When it was over, you were catching your breath behind everyone else, and saw her out of the corner of your eye, saying hi to an employee.
You narrowed your eyes, looking closer, and you fucking recognized exactly who she was.
Her fucking ex girlfriend.
You didn’t even pause to think about it before walking over there, grabbing Valeria by the wrist, not even offering for her to say goodbye. You dragged her into a green room, shutting and locking the door behind you.
“What the fuck, Valeria!?” You yelled, and you watched her take a step back. “The fuck was that? You think I don’t have eyes or something?”
“Baby, she was saying hello, I was being cordial—“
“No, that’s not okay. You don’t get to treat me like that. I’m hurting and you think talking to your ex makes it better?” You turned away, tugging at the roots of your hair. “God, what the fuck am I doing?”
“Keep going.” You heard her say, leaning against the wall beside you. “C’mon, I know you have more.”
You dropped your hands. “What the fuck?”
“I said,” she countered, voice louder, like she was goading you on. “Keep fucking going.”
You gasped, shocked at the fire you saw in her eyes.
“Don’t make me repeat myself, baby.”
Your ears turned red, and you unloaded on her, the way you’d meant to for weeks. Telling her how disrespected you’d felt, how much you hated it when she did things that hurt you, and you just kept going. You’d cried and then laughed insanely and then become incredibly angry.
And she just…watched. She didn’t interrupt. She let you go on and on, and then when you stopped, she nodded.
“Good,” she exhaled. “That felt good.”
“It felt good?!” You yelled. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!”
She shrugged, smiling. “I like it when you yell.”
You gaped at her, then shook your head. “You need therapy, babe. A really good therapist.”
She stepped closer to you, wrapping her arms around your shoulders and kissing your cheek. “I love you. I love you so much that you can’t begin to understand, and I’ve told you before: if you’re yelling, it means you still care enough to fight for this. For us.”
You melted into her, tucking your head into her neck. “I have to go to my hotel room.”
“No, you’re coming to mine.” She corrected, holding you tighter. “It’s not fixed, and I know that. But I don’t want to be away from you tonight, okay? Can you come home with me?”
You sighed, nodding. “I will this time. I am not going to be at your beck and call, though. You need to make some serious changes.”
It took three more shows before you caved, because you hadn’t slept well since that first fight, waking up randomly. You couldn’t do it anymore.
You knocked on her door, dressed in your pajamas because it was the middle of the night, and waited for her to open it. You knew she was still awake—she never was an easy sleeper—and you sighed when she finally opened the door.
“I’m done fighting. I need to sleep. Can I sleep here?”
She smiled softly at you, pulling the door open wider. “You can always come sleep with me. However, maybe don't walk around the hotel in those pajamas.”
You looked down at your camisole and shorts, shrugging. “No one else is awake, don’t be jealous.”
“I’m jealous every time someone looks at you, mi amor.” She teased, smacking your butt as you walked through. You rolled your eyes and laid in her bed, pulling the covers up to your chin. She turned the lights off, laying beside you and pulling your back to her chest.
“I love you,” you whispered. “Thank you for being patient with me.”
“I’ll be here forever, if you’ll have me.”
You wiggled around, turning to face her. Her hand had slipped under your shirt, her thumb tracing tiny circles on your stomach. Her eyes were flickering all over your face, and you couldn’t help the want that surged through you for her.
“Kiss me,” you murmured. “Kiss me like you mean it.”
She pressed her lips to yours, her whole body pressed up against you. Her leg nestled between yours, pushing your body into hers firmly. You moaned softly into her mouth, and she shivered slightly.
The kiss became heated quicker than you could catch up, and soon, you were gasping into her mouth, your hips moving against her. You felt yourself soak through your panties, and she must have to.
“Can I?” She murmured, moving her lips down your neck. “Let me take care of you, sweet girl.”
“I love you so much,” you gasped, tears springing to your eyes. “I want it soft.”
She slipped her hand under your panties, and you inhaled shakily at the first contact. She was slow with it, even though she knew your anatomy like the back of her hand. She knew everything about you, down to the way that one of your legs was longer than the other.
“Put your leg over mine, baby.”
You lifted it slowly, then changed your mind. “I want you on me.”
She pulled back, raising her eyebrows. “Are you—“
“Please, baby.” You replied, holding her gaze. She melted, slipping off your underwear, and then hers.
“Do you want me on top?” She asked, sliding her hand up your thigh. You shuddered at the contact, humming softly.
“I’ll move your legs.” She affirmed. She positioned your legs just so, until your centers touched. You both moaned, and you scrambled to pull her closer. Her arms wrapped around your back, holding you to her, as she started to move.
“You feel so good, baby, always do.” She murmured, kissing your cheek. “Can’t believe I get to have you. You’re so special, phenomenal.”
You felt a tear slip from your eyes, and you wiped it away, smiling. “Keep going.”
She grinned widely, “I love it when you’re bossy, you know? Always telling me what you want, when you want it. You know how hard it is to tell you no, mami? You just look at me with those eyes—“ she gasped as you arched further into her, her own eyes closing, “fuck, baby, you always get to me. You feel so good.”
You whimpered, a small, broken sound. She moved her hips faster, then sat up, pushing your leg further into the air, almost by your shoulder. You grabbed for her hand, taking it to be closer to your chest. She smiled, and your body responded in kind, the small tingling of your orgasm approaching you slowly.
“And? I love the way you always love me harder than I’m used to. You never made me question it, even when you were so mad at me that you wouldn’t see me. Even then, I knew you loved me.”
“I do,” you replied, smiling softly. “You like that I’m bossy?”
“That’s what you got from all that?” She giggled, then it turned into a moan. “I’m so close, baby. Are you?”
You nodded vehemently—your hands falling to her hips to pull her closer, harder, anything so you could feel her even more. You wanted to be so close to her that you couldn’t tell where she began and you ended.
She fell forward into you, holding herself up as her curtain of hair fell over your face. You could smell the mint of her toothpaste and see a little bit of it on her cheek, and as you came against her, you kissed that exact spot.
She followed you easily, then collapsed atop you, her breath coming in short, desperate pants.
“Good, huh?” You laughed, turning your head to face her. She groaned as she rolled over to her back, pulling you into her chest.
“We still need a shower,” you noted absently, your eyelids drooping.
“We’ll,” she yawned. “We’ll shower in the morning.”
Yeah, you thought. In the morning.
