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i miss when blondie was blonde
weren't we the salt in the sea? (part 7)
part one, part two, part three, part four, part five. part six is linked in part 5
ao3 link here
pairing: paige x azzi
word count: 14.8k
plot synopsis reminder: wings!paige x singer!azzi. azzi's album went viral when people realized the songs were about paige. fought & decided to be Friends. their definition of friends is pretty bad.
other: second to last chapter! everyone cheer.
the three things people usually advise before going on tour are as follows: one, drink water like a motherfucker; two, expect exhaustion; three, prepare for anything.
the thing people did not warn azzi about, unfortunately, was how badly the adrenaline makes you want to fuck something. nasty.
something about thousands of fans screaming, dancing, and syncing the rhythm of their heart to the beat of your music controls your insides in a way you can’t anticipate. walking offstage, it never feels over. the crowd howling and clapping and pleading, the crazy thrill of endorphins and pumping blood and sore throats– the buzz lingers, rushes delightfully from throat to fingertip to gut to knees. it begs for release.
which, of course, was just great. because paige was hundreds of miles away in miami, balling out and making women wet or whatever they did at unrivaled, and azzi was in stupid brooklyn.
every show, as soon as her feet hit the backstage floor, she imagined paige rounding the corner so she could jump her bones. and, of course, paige wasn’t there, because she had a real-life job with real-life responsibilities.
so every show, azzi felt wildly pent up down and wildly let down.
it solidified in azzi’s mind what she already knew; the fact that she had hundreds of beautiful women around her at all times, had dozens of chances to let herself run amok, but she only wanted paige–
on an unrelated note, the shit with her mother was dying down. for about two weeks after it happened, azzi had been sick to her stomach. she’d completely ignored everything related to it as much as she could, which paige had called “unhealthy avoidance” but which she called “being resourceful”.
the plus of being famous was that she had a publicist, a pr team, and a manager, and they bore the brunt of dealing with magazines, websites, and social media. it helped azzi find solace in her everyday, able to ignore the heat of the topic and the backlash of her own emotions.
the minus of being famous was that when the adrenaline wore off after the shows, and she was all alone at night in her hotel shower, she cried against the wall until her skin pruned and her lips began to peel.
going from one extreme to the other was brutal. growing up, she’d always judged celebrities for getting addicted to drugs, for making dumb decisions. she understood them a lot better now. having the high of performing ripped away from you, especially when you didn’t have a solid foundation in the background of your life, was ruthless.
she smoked more than usual to ease her nerves, but tried to drink extra water and take more vitamins to make up for it. it probably wasn’t working, but she didn’t really care.
paige could always tell. they talked for a few hours during the day, mostly paige because of azzi’s vocal rest. somehow paige knew, though, how to differentiate her silences. when it was needed, or when it was bad.
she demanded azzi’s location so that she could send her little surprises in every city. tea for her throat in philadelphia, warm cookies in newark. when she’d stayed in boston for a week, paige had written letters to her hotel room. it alleviated a bit of the burden from azzi’s shoulders, and quietly, it made her heart burn beats inside her chest.
she really just wanted to hold her, to be able to come back at the end of the week and seal their lips together. she wanted to be in paige’s bed, wrapped up in her arms, limbs intertwined. she wanted to fuck her, torturously slow and ravenous, until the tension bled out from her body and she could rest in peace.
the truth was that her guard had been up since her mother showed up, and hadn’t come back down since.
it was her worst nightmare. she didn’t want to think about it. not only did it happen, but the whole world knew about it. the whole world knew things about her intimate life, knew the way her parents thought of her, knew things that took her years to confess to even her closest friends.
touring gave her a bubble to exist in– nobody spoke to her about it directly. she could almost slip into her stage persona entirely, pretend like nobody in the audience had an internet connection. in the moment, it was all music and sound and love, and everything else kind of fell away. she loved it. she craved it. it made her feel insane.
and then it didn’t.
“azzi,” mackenzie said quietly, rousing her from her thoughts, “hey. you okay?”
“yeah,” azzi said automatically, blinking back into the conversation. she sought out her straw and took a sip of her iced coffee, swirling the caramel flavoring around her in mouth.
“you sure? you look like you’re zoning out.”
“it’s good,” azzi waved her off quietly, “just thinking about the show later. brooklyn and all that.”
mackenzie stared at her. “the show’s gonna be great like always, az. you don’t have to worry about it now.”
“i know,” azzi nodded. “sorry, go on.”
mackenzie looked at her for a moment longer before sighing and beginning her rant again. she was saying something about how difficult it was to relinquish power to other people when you start your own company, and azzi listened silently and nodded along when appropriate.
“and, cayden, you say–”
“caymen,” mackenzie corrected.
“right,” azzi said drily, “caymen doesn’t know as much about the ins and outs of linkedin as you or destiny.”
“it’s really ridiculous,” mackenzie complained, “he keeps trying to reach out to people like a fucking ai chatbot. nobody even checks their linkedin inboxes, especially not student athletes. i’m like, dude, you need to go to straight to the fucking source.”
“who still even uses linkedin?” azzi muttered.
mackenzie fixed her with a look. “the rest of the working-class world, azzi. not everyone is a famous songwriter. speaking of which, linkedin is giving me a free trial of premium.”
“congratulations!” azzi said pleasantly. she drew a smiley face in the condensation on her coffee cup.
“no,” mackenzie rebutted, “it’s dumb. i don’t care about that nonsense. i have better shit to do than worry about the ins and outs of linkedin premium. why does everything have to be premium these days? can’t anyone just make money on their own anymore?”
“late stage capitalism,” azzi agreed, “gotta love it.”
“you and paige make all your money from late stage capitalism. of course you love it.”
azzi frowned. “my merch is affordable! and i use pricelocking on ticketmaster!”
mackenzie cackled. “i’m fucking with you. how is paige, by the way?”
azzi made a mental note to donate to the ali forney center later. “she’s good. busy.”
“so are you,” mackenzie noted.
“astute observation.”
“you guys haven’t met up since you went down to her place, right?”
“no,” azzi confirmed, “we’ve been calling, though. it’s nice.”
“she’s gonna come see you in atlanta? when’s that?”
“another month. i’m gonna see her a week before that in miami, though, when i have a short break. gonna get food with her friends and– her family and stuff.”
mackenzie nodded. she finished her coffee, knee bouncing beneath the table at the sound of her straw grasping for droplets that no longer existed. her eyebrow twitched in the way azzi knew meant that she was about to say some bullshit.
“don’t do anything too exciting,” mackenzie sighed, “you need your voice.”
“shut up,” azzi grumbled. “we haven’t– not since–”
“i know you know phone sex exists.”
azzi flushed. her stomach twisted, suddenly hot. her voice dropped to a whisper, careful not to be overheard by anyone else. they were at a random cafe in the city, but it was brooklyn, chronically online central. she’d asked to sit in the far back so that nobody recognized her, but if they talked too loud, her voice was fair game.
“she’s so exhausted after her games, and she’s so busy at night.”
mackenzie raised an eyebrow. “i’m sure she could get over it. twenty four hours in a day. you don’t want to eat her alive when she’s all frustrated and sweaty after playing?”
“no,” azzi confessed, “i– i don’t want to take time away from her recovery. she needs to rest.”
“so do you, and you still want her knee-deep inside of you.”
“shut it,” azzi hissed, looking around. “i do, i just– she hasn’t brought up anything like that since everything with my mom. i think she’s waiting for me to initiate.”
mackenzie sobered up instantly. “speaking of,” she began gently, “how are you doing with that?”
azzi fidgeted with a ring on her finger. bad, was the truth.
“i’m seeing a therapist twice a week,” she muttered. “it’s nice.”
mackenzie went silent, letting her control the conversation.
“it’s so hard because, like, it was everything i ever wanted. my mom coming to my concert, saying she supported me. wanting to reconcile. apologizing. except, she wasn’t. and i realized, as soon as i had what i wanted, how little it all meant.”
she sighed. “i’m used to not having a family, mackenzie. and i’m used to being disappointed by her. but it was still horrible. and then, like it couldn’t get any worse, she’s out calling me slurs to the press and now everyone knows i have fucking mommy and daddy issues.”
that was the nice way of putting it. in reality, it was like her guts had been ripped from her and left on the street, wet and red and throbbing and shiny and loose like here, isn’t this pathetic, look at this, look at the mess of her insides. and she just had to walk around like everyone hadn’t seen them, hadn’t stepped on them, like they weren’t walking around with bits of her stuck in their shoes and stamping her into the cracks of the pavement.
“you have a family, azzi,” mackenzie said quietly. she reached a hand over the table and gently touched azzi’s wrist. “you always have.”
azzi blinked. her eyes felt sore. “i love you,” she said.
“i love you too,” mackenzie cracked a smile, “and i’m gonna kill both of those stupid cunts.”
azzi snorted. “get in line.”
“and do you know what could be a really great outlet for this stress?”
“i swear to god, if you say–”
“phone sex!”
“i’m going to kill you.”
____
“how was brunch with mackenzie?” paige asked, sipping a protein shake. she was still in a white fitted shirt from her morning’s workout session, hair down loose and spilling across her shoulders.
the miami sun, even in january, had been doing her favors. she was deliciously tanned in a way that azzi said pissed her off. the comment made her want to get even tanner. in a normal way. even now, the sun was draping her in warm colors from her apartment window, making her shoulders shine. she hoped azzi was paying attention.
“it was good,” azzi replied, a second too late. her voice sounded a little tight through paige’s ipad. “she’s getting pretty busy with her business. we talked about that, mostly. the coffee was pretty good. reminded me of that spot we used to go to in college.”
“oh, shit,” paige mused, “i haven’t thought about that place in forever. i wonder if that old guy still works there. bro is probably twenty years past the retirement age.”
“he said it was his life’s passion,” azzi shrugged, “you like basketball, he likes putting an insane amount of flavoring in his iced lattes.” she was in some hotel room, sitting in a desk next to her bed. the white comforter looked starchy and uncomfortable, and paige wished she could offer her own as a replacement.
paige snorted. she took a long sip of her drink. the pink sludge tasted just about as nothing as usual. being an athlete was so annoying.
“she still talking to that guy?” paige asked, curious.
azzi grimaced. her lips curved into a slight pout, and paige made a mental note to make her make that expression more often. it was cute. maybe she should start bringing up garbage disposals or fruit flies more often.
“no,” azzi said sourly, “he kept driving under the influence and calling her when he’d wreck.”
eugh. paige made a face. “that’s horrible. is she okay?”
“yeah, she wasn’t too caught up on it.”
“gonna send her a gift basket or something. i feel like that at least deserves a visa gift card and some doritos.”
“she’ll kill you,” azzi warned, but she was smiling.
“that’s my cross to bear,” paige shrugged. she sipped down her smoothie again and studied the way azzi’s baby hairs stood in a few different directions. it was alarming how that made her want to kiss her five ways until sunday.
of course, everything made her want to kiss azzi five ways until sunday these days. paige couldn’t believe they’d ever gone so long without being apart. nothing felt right.
azzi noticed her staring. “what?” she asked quietly.
“you look really pretty.”
azzi scowled, running a hand over her hair, but paige knew she liked the compliment. “whatever,” she grumbled. “how was practice?”
ugh. practice. paige sighed, flashing back to the disgruntled hours of the morning. “coach was mad. we really shouldn’t be losing these games, i don’t know why we can’t click. i don’t know. i kept trying to focus, but i couldn’t lock in today.”
“what was, like, going through your head?” azzi asked, resting her chin on her palm.
paige felt her cheeks warm. she flexed her shoulders, running a hand over the back of her head. “uh,” she stuttered, “not much.” her voice came out too small. she mentally cursed.
like a release from stress, she’d been thinking about azzi. she didn’t really know when it started, but at one point, she was irritated, and the next moment she was calming down thinking about azzi. halfway through practice, she’d started reliving a time when she’d showed up to azzi’s house in new york.
physically, the team had been working on connections, passing and setting up shots. mentally, her brain had been somewhere in the city, watching the six o’clock sun paint lines across the skin of azzi’s back. pressing a light kiss to her shoulder, hoping it wouldn’t rouse her. unable to stop herself from taking what more of her she could get.
she’d thrown the ball three feet to alanna’s right, and her mind had been watching azzi’s lips open and close as she gasped with paige’s hand tucked between her legs. the curve of her tongue. the slight gap between her two front teeth.
she’d smoked a layup, and her mind had been on how azzi’s hips felt under her hands as she rocked them back and forth on her own thigh. how they’d felt wet, in the shower after. how they’d felt warm, covered in her shorts as paige kissed her goodbye.
paige missed her so badly.
azzi raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow at her, and her heart thumped a little sickeningly in her chest. love, her internal monologue supplied. i know, she told it. shut up.
“ah, nothing,” she shrugged, hoping her face didn’t give her away. she didn’t want to say anything too serious, too intimate. it wasn’t fair for her to force any kind of unnecessary feelings on azzi, not while she was still processing everything that happened. one “i miss you” could lead to “i love you”. paige didn’t want to get in the way of her family stuff. not again.
“what?” azzi pressed. “what were you thinking about?”
azzi’s baby blue camisole on the floor. dark curls pressed against her chest. kissing her hard in the elevator. the fan on azzi’s ceiling spinning in circles as paige’s thighs tightened around her head.
“you,” she said. honest.
“me,” azzi repeated. her fingers drummed against her cheek, and paige followed them with her eyes. azzi’s touch was always soft. “me… in what context?”
“i’on know,” paige mumbled, distracted, “last time i saw you in new york.”
azzi’s jaw dropped. “paige. you had a bad practice because you were turned on?”
“what?” paige yelped, “no!”
“the last time you saw me in new york”, azzi mocked. “when i ate you out twice?”
“that was like, one half an hour of the wonderful, innocent day we spent together.”
“paige, seriously, i think we were at it from ten at night to three in the morning.”
“no, because the making out in the middle of things doesn’t count, and– az, how do you even remember that?”
“you were horny at practice,” azzi ignored her to laugh, clear and bright and annoying.
and sure, that was part of it, but it had been more romantic in paige’s head. she’d been picturing azzi to help herself get through a rough day, wasn’t that nice? she huffed. “practice was frustrating–”
“sexually.”
“azzi!” paige’s face burned. “whatever. it’s been a while. so i want you. is that a crime?”
she hadn’t meant to be that direct, but it was the truth.
“you want me,” azzi repeated, pleased. even when she was trying to piss her off, she made paige feel like a little kid with a crush.
“of course i do.”
“when?” azzi grinned.
paige huffed a laugh, rolling her eyes. she hadn’t really thought about when they’d be intimate next, and figured that azzi hadn’t, either. she’d been helping azzi through her shit, focusing on basketball. they both knew sex was off the table for the time being.
azzi raised an eyebrow. “i’m not joking.”
paige sobered up. her face suddenly felt heavier.
“you– what?” she asked, dumb. her gut tightened.
“tell me what you were thinking about,” azzi’s voice was smooth, dangerous. she leaned forwards, towards the camera.
paige swallowed. was she breathing too loudly? she nervously glanced out the window of her apartment, seeing nothing but an empty parking lot outside. lord, as if someone could read her lips from four floors down. she was being ridiculous.
she gathered herself and met azzi’s gaze. “kissing you. in the elevator. in the morning when we woke up.”
“i miss kissing you.”
paige laughed quietly. “i know you do.”
azzi blinked at her. “i like it when we’re kissing and you grab my ass.”
jesus. something twitched in paige’s gut.
“mmm,” she hummed, noncommittal. “there’s a lot to work with."
azzi grinned. “i train glutes.”
“it’s been there since before you started that.”
“i also like it when you slip your thumbs under my waistband,” azzi continued, “it feels good.” her eyes were dark. paige’s stomach clenched at the sight.
“you make a sound when i do,” paige’s voice came out low, raspy, “drives me crazy. you’re so…”
azzi tilted her head. “your turn. what do you like?”
paige’s tongue darted out to wet her lips. she spread her legs a little, unconsciously. a million images flashed through her head– everything, was the answer, but she knew that wasn’t what azzi wanted to hear. she liked when azzi got fed up with her bonnet at night and broke apart their kiss to toss it off after it slid too far back. she liked when azzi moaned her name and her voice cracked because she could barely take it. she liked when azzi was the little spoon and pressed her ass back into paige, hinting.
“when i’m on top,” paige started, slow, “and i have my thigh between your legs. and i grind down into you. and you stop kissin' me to throw your head all the way back.”
“you like that?” azzi drawled, leaning back. she exhaled softly, fingering the bottom of her shirt.
“yeah,” paige breathed. it came out more whisper than word. she followed azzi’s movements with her gaze.
“what else?”
“when i reach up the back of your shirt,” paige muttered, “and run my hands up your skin. and you shiver, and you fold into me. and i undo your bra.”
through paige’s ipad screen, azzi’s eyes looked extra dark. slowly, she reached behind her back. paige watched the material of her shirt shift, loosen. her heart felt heavy in her chest. it pounded like a kickdrum as she drew in a sharp breath.
she needed to keep talking. she had to. “i like when i can finally touch you, and i move my hands to your front. and i like to kiss you a little slower as i touch your chest, so you can focus on my fingers as they grasp you.”
azzi exhaled louder, this time, chest visibly rising and falling. she kept her eyes on paige as she trailed her fingers to her stomach, under her shirt. paige watched the motion of her hand slip up, up, and under her bra. fuck. paige’s thighs ached badly with the need to clench together.
her eyes bored into the screen like it would cave in, like the glass would fissure into fractals and fall away so she could reach right through. half of her couldn’t believe that azzi wanted this. the other half didn’t give a shit.
“miss the way you feel,” she whispered. “your nipples under my thumbs.”
she talked at a measured pace, deliberately drawing it out, watching azzi’s movements correspond to her words. “circling them.”
azzi’s lips parted.
“pressing into them.”
azzi exhaled deeply, blinking once, twice. paige reveled in it. she’d known for a long time that she’d gotten azzi riled up when she started blinking faster.
her voice was smooth and low. “does that feel good?”
azzi inhaled. she nodded. paige watched the fabric of her shirt jerk as she kneaded her tits. it made her head feel fuzzy. she wished it were her so badly, but the sight of azzi touching herself was intoxicating. paige had a thing for watching women come. there was an adrenaline to it, a high when she knew they couldn’t help themselves from cresting, when she had the effect on people that made them forget themselves and succumb to their desires.
“i miss taking my time. workin’ you up,” she continued, “running one hand down your stomach.”
azzi’s knuckles shifted lower. “down to your waist.”
finally, she caught a sliver of azzi’s fingers peeking out from the hem of her shirt. delicately, they pushed under her waistband and dragged to the side. paige watched her stomach clench, imagined the heat of her touch and how it must be shooting straight down between her legs.
“miss seein’ you. all of you,” paige muttered, hoarse and honest. she bit her lip and drank in the sight of azzi before her, stupid facetime image from the waist up. it wasn’t enough. she wanted more.
azzi’s eyelids fluttered imperceptibly. her fingers twitched at her waistband.
“you wanna see all of me?” she asked. she sounded saccharine, sultry, like something right out of paige’s nighttime fantasies. paige swallowed, hard, and fought to keep her breath steady.
“so badly,” paige admitted.
a small smile lifted the edge of azzi’s mouth. paige wanted to press her lips there again and again until she couldn’t tell which parts of herself were her own.
azzi stood up. her head cut out of frame, and paige wanted to complain but azzi grasped the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head in one smooth motion. paige’s mouth felt suddenly dry.
the pale light of the hotel room should have washed her out, should have made it feel sterile and gray. of course, common sense never meant much when it came to azzi. mid-day light poured in from her window, warm and soaking between the crevices of her muscles. paige wanted to run her tongue everywhere she could see.
“damn,” paige muttered. the action had left azzi in her tan bra, unclasped in the back, and her shorts. with a slight of her smooth shoulders, the bra slipped off azzi and onto the floor.
paige could feel her heart hammering through her body like it was trying to escape. she swallowed again, tongue darting out to wet her bottom lip. the sight of azzi’s tits was never any less invigorating than it had been the first time she’d seen them (azzi, tipsy, in a bar bathroom. pulling her shirt up and asking paige if she should get her nipples pierced. paige had tripped over her own two feet and fallen into a running sink).
azzi made a face at her and she giggled like a fucking schoolgirl. through the screen, she watched her drag the chair she’d been sitting in off to the side, giving paige a clear view of the hotel bed behind her. azzi turned so that her back was to paige and hooked her thumbs under the waistband of her shorts, teasingly bending down so that her ass was pushed into the camera.
paige resisted the urge to wolf whistle. instead, she bit into the side of her cheek so hard that it hurt.
azzi repeated the action with her underwear, and paige forced her eyes away as her face burned. she’d seen it a million times. she’d seen this exact thing in person. but they weren’t together, physically.
something about it being one level removed, through the screen, made it infinitely hotter, overwhelmingly so. it was another level of exposure, of putting herself out there. it made paige feel even more wanted, azzi going out of her way to initiate it. she bit her lip harder, eyelids falling to half mast.
“like what you see?” azzi purred, ridiculous. she cocked a hip, showing off the broad expanse of her backside, and paige held back a groan. how did she even look like that? was there a perfect ass factory she’d gone to before meeting paige? should she double check the dr. miami records?
“‘course i do.”
“good,” azzi smiled, smug. she turned back around and backed up onto the bed. her knees hit the side and buckled, and she took a seat on the comforter. paige watched intently as it bent to her form, dipped to meet the curve of her hips. “keep talking.”
paige swallowed. “you look beautiful.”
she did. the bodied form of her figure made paige want to choke on her own spit. her strong, muscled thighs, the silver chain pierced through her navel that quivered with her breath. the curves of her ribs, the fullness of her breasts and her hardened nipples. her broad, soft shoulders and those fucking arms. azzi had always been more of the biter, but paige was beginning to understand the appeal. she wanted to sink her teeth right into the side of her neck, hear her gasp and moan and choke.
she looked beautiful and it was devastating, like each part of her was pulled from the depths of paige’s mammal brain and welded together to create her ultimate bane. paige was so fucking weak.
azzi rolled her eyes. “what are you gonna do about it?”
paige drew in a slow breath, eyes unable to stop raking across azzi’s form. her thighs were pressed together. that needed to change. “if i was there i’d kiss you,” she mused, “start slow, soft. probably too slow.”
azzi lifted her fingertips to her mouth, brushing over her lips. “i’d stay there for a while because i miss you. just kissing, and kissing, while my hands wandered around your body.”
something molten stirred in paige’s gut. she shifted in her seat, leaning forwards with her elbows on her knees. anything to be even a modicum closer to azzi.
“i like riling you up so you kiss me harder. when i squeeze your ass, or run my nails down your stomach. your whole body trembles and you press into me. it’s so hot,” paige breathed. she watched azzi’s fingers trail their way down her neck, between the valley of her breasts, to claw down her own stomach. azzi’s mouth fell open, jaw tipping up at the sensation.
“if i was satisfied, i’d finally move down. kiss the sides of your mouth. your dimples. your jaw.”
hand back up, tracing a line between the corner of her lips and her jawbone.
“i’d press my mouth into your neck. up and down. over and over, both sides. kiss you. use my tongue. suck. leave a mark.” paige pronounced every consonant as clearly as she could, each word carefully formed to punctuate its meaning. “bite.”
azzi’s breath hitched, and she scraped her nails down her throat to her collarbone. her fingers splayed out, searching, squeezing her throat gently as her eyes fluttered shut.
something hot leaked into paige’s boxers. “just like that,” she breathed, “perfect.”
azzi choked out a small sound, and paige felt violent that she couldn’t swallow it with her mouth. “down to your collarbone. your chest. trace around your nipple. back up.”
every command, azzi followed. paige took it in hungrily, watching each microexpression cross azzi’s face at each sensitive area, watching her eyes darken, watching the way her hips shifted minutely to try to relieve some of the pressure no doubt building in her cunt. paige wanted, as usual, to devour her.
“wish that was me,” she muttered, “wanna be all over you.”
“please,” azzi whispered. something in paige’s spine liquefied.
“i’d kiss my way over to your shoulders. down your bicep,” paige continued, “take my time with the muscle there. down your forearm. to your hand.”
azzi’s chest swelled with her sharp inhale as she dragged her nails over, around, down. “i’d kiss every knuckle. each fingertip. up and down. the outside of your wrist. turn it over. the inside.”
azzi shivered as she caressed each tender place. paige loved it. she loved that she was causing every bit of the reaction, that azzi was touching herself but she was controlling every part of it.
“and i’d kiss all the way back up. from the tip of your hand to the top of your shoulder.”
the hand travelled up, faltering for a split second. “back to your chest. and up.”
“and back down, to your nipple. and up. never too long in one place. just enough to make you really, really crave it. so i know you want it.”
azzi’s eyebrows pinched together. “paige.”
“between your tits. down to your waistband. back up. one side of your stomach. the other.”
azzi obeyed, the muscle of her gut tensing again. her chest pushed up into the touch, body visibly needy. paige thought she could get off just like that, by watching azzi want so desperately.
“paige,” azzi repeated. her fingers jerked towards her core, and she balled them into a frustrated fist.
“again,” paige replied. azzi let out a strangled groan, trailing her fingers from the hollow of her neck to her navel, skimming across the expanse of her stomach.
paige’s voice was low, raspy. “you look so pretty when you want me this bad.”
azzi keened, her head lolling to one side. her thighs began to part, just a hair, but she squeezed them back together. that wouldn’t do.
“if i were really there, i’d do the same thing with your legs,” she muttered, “go down each one to your ankles. kissing you, and kissing you, and kissing you.”
azzi bit down on her lip, frustrated with the teasing. she didn’t move her hands to her legs, and paige hadn’t expected her to; she just wanted to rile azzi up, to make her think about torturous touching and devastatingly slow intimacy.
at the look on azzi’s face, it was clear that her goal had been achieved. a thrill shot down paige’s spine. she decided to give her a bit of relief, finally. “open up f’me.”
azzi’s shoulders visibly relaxed at the command. her hands found her knees, slipped between them, and pushed her thighs apart as they slid closer to her core. the sight hit paige like a freight train, cunt shining filthily in the light, inner thighs sticky with evidence of want. she wanted to bury her face there, breathe in the heady scent of her and consume her entirely. her tongue twitched in her mouth like a caged dog, wanting on instinct to devour.
azzi’s adductors flexed with the movement, and paige’s blood rushed south and pulsed.
paige watched her lean back, resting on one arm, with her free hand hovering to the side of her entrance. she felt lightheaded. angel, her brain supplied. you’re literally just looking at your girlfriend’s cunt, another part of it chimed in. not your girlfriend. she bit her lip.
“if i was there,” she continued, drawing in a shaky breath that she hoped azzi didn’t notice, “i’d take my time on your inner thighs. start at your knee. move in. get closer to where you want it.”
azzi dragged her hand from her inner knee to the crevice of her hip.
“just like that,” paige praised, low, “use my lips, my tongue. leave a mark. get closer, and closer. and pull away. and repeat.”
paige could continue like that forever. telling azzi what to do, working her up, bringing her right to the edge of something more and then denying it. seeing azzi grow increasingly restless, bothered, needy. it was everything she wanted. if she were truly there, she’d go on and on. take her time. dismantle azzi inch by inch, kiss by kiss, touch by touch, until she was out of her mind. until she begged for it. until she forgot her own name.
she longed to break azzi down completely, stripping her of any of her worries about her job, her family, anything external, and leaving her the bare bones of human desire and want.
but she wasn’t there, and they hadn’t fucked in so long, and while she wanted that madly, she also wanted azzi to know that she would give her whatever she needed before anything else. azzi was trembling, nipples hard and straining, leaking onto the hotel bedsheets. her baby hairs were escaping in wild flyaways, her lips dark and pink for how much she’d been biting them. she looked positively wrecked, and paige needed to fulfill her desires.
“please,” azzi whispered, as if on cue. her fingers stroked herself dangerously close to her core, through the slick that gathered on her inner thighs. “need it.”
paige’s voice was treacherously hoarse. “need who?” she deliberately rephrased the question to remind azzi that there was no thing that could help her. it was paige. it would always be paige.
“you,” azzi breathed, followed by a deep inhale. she blinked rapidly, knees twitching slightly with the effort of holding back.
“you can have whatever you want,” paige said. honest to a fault. i love you. “go ahead.”
azzi made a sound of relief, fingers shooting to her entrance.
paige’s chest hurt. she loved her. just watching her was a blessing. getting to experience her like this was a dream. she would always give azzi anything she desired.
“c’mon, baby,” she encouraged her, “touch yourself however you need me.”
azzi whined, and paige’s gut seized. her core twitched. “you know what i’d to do you. i’d give it to you nice and gentle. work you up. kiss you. draw circles on your clit.” love you.
azzi touched herself, fingers working her clit, sloppy noises slipping out of her throat. paige vaguely wondered if this was recommended against by her vocal coach, but she decided it wasn’t important.
“keep it slow, baby,” paige instructed. she watched, transfixed, the way azzi circled herself. where she spent a little more time. the point where she started, where she went. how her fingers dipped into her wetness for a split second, coating herself in slick. the way her eyes fluttered shut at the feeling.
she let azzi go on, listening to the soft noises falling from her lips. she stared intently at the rise and fall of her chest, the spill of her breasts, the gentle motion of her wrist. her slack jaw, her back shoulder trembling with the effort of keeping herself up, her abs clenching with each slight motion. every piece of it was enthralling, enchanting. paige was under her spell, blessed to be able to consume the sight in front of her.
her boxers felt like a hot mess. she shifted her weight around, pleasure radiating from her center as she pressed down. she exhaled deep and ragged.
“little faster,” she murmured, “little more pressure.”
a punched-out moan wrenched itself from azzi’s throat as she obeyed. paige’s own hips begged to jerk up, to release pressure. the sight of azzi’s fingers speeding up and the obvious pleasure on her face was overwhelming; her head swam forcefully as she drank it all in.
“how does that feel?”
azzi nodded, eyes still shut. even just focusing on her face, paige could still see her arm muscles rippling as she touched herself. fuck.
“good,” she drew out. “so good f’me, huh?”
azzi nodded again, eager. fuck. paige could tell that she was still holding back, that she still wanted more. god, that was hot. paige blinked rapidly, hips twitching.
“you look so fuckin’ good,” she muttered. “so beautiful. so fuckin’ perfect.”
azzi inhaled desperately, her fingers inadvertently moving a little faster on herself. paige was thrilled. she made azzi want to touch herself.
thinking about all of it– the noises, her face, the undulating rhythmic motions of her pleasured body– was– yeah. the resulting head rush made paige’s lower lip sting until she realized she was biting it.
“stop,” she ordered. “up and down the sides.”
a strangled sound escaped azzi’s lips. her fingers spread herself apart for a moment before stroking down her labia. up. paige knew it would heighten her sensitivity, and grinned when she gave the command for azzi to resume touching herself and azzi whimpered.
“that feel good?”
“mhm,” azzi sighed, breathless.
“how good?”
“really good.”
paige hummed. “and who’s making you feel like that?” azzi’s cunt visibly clenched, and her breath hitched. paige took the space before she added on in a mutter, “faster. a little harder.”
azzi’s jaw dropped, perfect pink lips wet and swollen. her fingers sped up, pressing deeper into herself, and she struggled to respond in anything but a high pitched whisper. “you.”
“say my name.”
“paige,” azzi breathed. it sliced through paige like a molten blade, and she ached with the need for relief, bad. she swallowed and wrote it off, not wanting to divert any attention away from azzi.
out of the blue, a memory hit her; a few months ago, azzi had confessed that she liked to watch paige get off.
she finally slipped a hand overtop of her shorts.
she palmed herself lazily, slowly dragging down between her legs then back up, as she unabashedly watched azzi finger herself. it felt good, the light pressure, and she could feel how damp her boxers had become even through the second layer of fabric. she twitched against herself.
azzi let out a sound like a wounded animal, eyes squeezing shut and head throwing back. “jesus christ.”
“you like that?” paige drawled, biting her lip. “me watching you? getting turned on by watching you fuck yourself?” she pronounced every consonant of the word fuck, making it sound as filthy as possible. it sent a shiver through azzi that she reveled in.
“making me cum without even doing anything,” she continued, shamelessly watching azzi’s cheeks grow pink. her lips lifted into a teasing smile. “pillow princess.”
azzi’s eyelids fluttered, and she slowly brought herself back to staring at paige’s fingers moving, long and thick, over the crotch of her shorts. “more,” she whispered.
“for who?”
azzi did a jerky half-nod, half-headshake. she swallowed like it pained her. paige’s chest warmed with endearment. poor azzi, who was so overwhelmed that she didn’t even know what she wanted. she decided to have mercy on her and give her both.
“c’mon, baby,” she purred, “you can gimme a little more. go ‘head.”
azzi slipped her fingers down into her cunt before bringing them back up, touching herself with reckless abandon. her chest rose and fell in shaky heaves, the elbow she was resting on trembling.
breathing deeply, eyes hooded, paige slid her hand under her boxers, reaching for the wet heat that demanded pressure.
“keep them on,” azzi blurted out, begging. her eyes widened, like she didn’t even know what she was saying.
she must have thought that paige was going to take off her pants. paige’s hand stilled before reaching her cunt, and she groaned aloud. clearly, azzi was getting off on the power dynamic; herself fully naked, exposed, and touching herself without restraint versus paige, clothed and demanding.
“you are so hot,” she professed in a raspy whisper. her heart swelled to three times its size, overwhelmed. “my girl.”
“yours,” azzi repeated. her eyes were closed. paige’s chest throbbed violently. she wanted to push, wanted to make her say it again and again and again until her voice box collapsed and she couldn’t physically keep going. instead, she drew in a sharp breath and ignored the flipping in her stomach to slip half a finger into herself, thrusting shallowly.
she didn’t touch herself like that often, and pulled back out to mirror azzi’s actions on her own clit, but slower. every micromovement was a course of pleasure, already sensitive and swollen. her limbs felt heavy, blood pooling down to her gut as her brain went hazy.
azzi looked like she was approaching the edge, hips bucking up, moans pulling from her lips.
paige twitched, wanted to press inside of her, wanted to see her ass against her hips. wanted to hold her to her chest as she fell apart.
“you wanna cum f’me?” she asked, voice low. her own pleasure gave it a dangerous edge, a slight shake. she knew azzi loved her voice like that, sensual and slow, knew it drove her insane.
azzi’s only response was a gasp, a resounding groan. her wetness was becoming audible through the speaker, the glistening slick erotic as she kept fucking herself. paige’s hand on herself pressed in harder.
“so good,” she purred, “so pretty. so fucking hot. so fucking good.”
azzi squirmed on the bed, shifting to get an impossibly better angle. her only acknowledgement of the praise was a desperate look directly at paige, a glance down to paige’s shorts, a tensing of her lower abdomen.
paige made a mental note to keep her shorts on more often. something about watching the bulge of paige’s hand under the material seemed to get azzi more riled up than usual.
“that’s it, pretty,” paige continued, sliding her fingers back and forth across her clit, “keep going. just like that.”
azzi whimpered, thigh muscle clenching, pupils blown and dark. she looked fucking gorgeous.
“god, i love when you touch yourself for me,” paige muttered, “love watching you feel this good. are you feeling good for me?”
she was close. paige knew it. it showed in the jerkiness of her movements, her rapid breath, her eyes fluttering between open and shut. she didn’t need to answer the question, but paige would make her.
“tell me,” she commanded, gentle. she kept her tone low, constrained. “tell me how it feels.”
azzi drew in a strangled breath. focus on anything else must have been near impossible for her, trying to draw herself together to do anything but let her body crash over itself.
“good,” she choked out, voice high-pitched and tight.
“you needed this?”
“yes,” azzi breathed, “so badly. all the time.”
“all the time?” paige laughed. she pressed into herself a little harder. fuck. “so needy.”
azzi’s movements stuttered before resuming. “fuck, fuck, fuck,” she whined, quiet.
paige waited a beat. “i’ve been thinking about you ever since you left,” she muttered, “you drive me fucking insane.”
azzi’s whole body tensed. “ah– i’m gonna– fuck–”
“i can’t cum without thinking about you.”
“please, i’m gonna–”
paige’s spine turned to liquid at the words coming out of her own mouth, at azzi’s reaction. at knowing she had azzi balanced on the edge of the knife, full and ripe and ready to slice open at any instant.
i love you so fucking much, she wanted to say next. she didn’t. but she knew what would do it for azzi. she paused for a moment, letting time dangle on the edge of the fraying string. watching azzi swing, swing, swing.
“i watch recordings of your concerts.”
swing.
the mention of work made azzi hesitate briefly, confused. paige crowed. she had her right where she wanted her.
“i lay in my bed at night.”
swing.
azzi listened intently, waiting for the inevitable ball to drop. paige fought off a violent crest of pleasure staring at her fingers, which kept circling and circling her glistening clit like a satellite.
“with my hand down my underwear.”
swing.
as azzi realized where she was going, she inhaled so sharply that paige’s own stomach lurched.
“and i think about dropping to my knees, right fucking there.”
fuck, azzi mouthed, eyes squeezed shut. she fucked herself harder, faster. paige’s mouth was talking of its own accord, fully lost in pleasure. her head swam in furious circles. she had one objective only. one goal.
“and making you cum in my fucking mouth. in front of everyone.”
“ah-,” azzi cried.
“cum.”
azzi’s hips slammed upwards, towards the ceiling. a shameless wail tore free from her throat. paige watched the pleasure rush through her like a wave, her limbs tensing and twitching, her jaw wide open. she felt it in her own gut all the same, her mind unable to dilute the raw eroticism of azzi cumming for her, and she hissed and jerked forwards as her own cunt pulled her over the edge.
head spinning, she blinked rapidly. she kept touching herself, working herself through, as she watched her lover recover. azzi was still panting, chest heaving, nipples hard. she’d leaned back, and paige had a marvelous view of her aching heat and the lines of her abs as she tapped herself through the aftershocks, not denying herself a single moment of pleasure.
“so good. so perfect,” she mumbled. azzi made no signs of hearing, but paige knew she liked it.
paige got the sudden urge to cover azzi’s body with hers, to lay on top of her and kiss her senseless. she drank in each inch of azzi, exhausted and perfect, and slid her fingers back out of her shorts. there was a napkin near her ipad on the table, and she grimaced as she wiped herself off of her own fingers. she’d have to wash her hands after this.
leaning forwards, she watched azzi blink herself back into consciousness.
“feel good?” she teased, resting her elbow on the table.
a small smile grew on azzi’s face. “shut up,” she muttered. “‘t was so hot.”
“you were so hot.”
paige imagined herself kissing the warm skin of azzi’s shoulder, stroking her arm. azzi scrunched her face up like she was embarrassed, but didn’t respond.
after a few more moments of silence, azzi shifted herself up and back over to her phone. she picked it up and collapsed back on her bed on her side, curling up on top of the covers. paige was remarkably endeared by the soft squish of her cheek against the pillow. she wanted to kiss it.
they stared at each other in silence for a moment, just smiling. nothing needed to be said, really. paige felt fulfilled, mostly. it was nice to be intimate in that way, nice to be able to take care of azzi. her core still felt sensitive and ached pleasantly.
azzi had been a little off recently, ever since what happened with her parents. every moment that paige could take to help her, to make her forget what’s on her mind, to guide her through it, she would take it. it was so fucking frustrating to be so far apart, to not be there for her at all hours of the day.
but azzi was living her dream, and she deserved it. it was scary, and a little horrible, but it was wonderful nonetheless. and paige was living her dream, too. there was just something missing from it.
“i really miss you.”
it came out quietly, more vulnerable than paige had intended. in the vast scope of her feelings, it felt small and fragile.
“i miss you too,” azzi frowned. she opened her mouth to speak again, but paige beat her to the punch.
“like really. not just–” her face felt warm, “this.”
azzi’s face softened. paige watched her chest rise and fall as she breathed, gentle and intimate. she longed to be able to have that of her all the time.
“i know,” azzi murmured, “i’ll see you soon.”
“not soon enough,” paige replied, and how true it felt overrode how trite it felt.
“baby,” azzi said, like it hurt her. paige’s heart squeezed something ridiculous. it was stupid. she was grown. she didn’t need to miss someone so badly. especially not something that wasn’t hers to hold.
and– well. she knew that she was in love with azzi. that wasn’t new. but it was no longer something she could push down. she wanted azzi, like this. all the time. in gentle mornings, in angry afternoons. she wanted her in the kitchen, sweating over a pan, outside killing bugs. she wanted her washing her calves in the shower, wanted her singing in the living room, wanted to say i love you and kiss her after a long day. she wanted to fight with her about miscommunications, to reconcile and slowly forgive her because she couldn’t stay mad.
and she wasn’t stupid; she knew that between their careers they would never have that domesticity in the traditional sense.
but wouldn’t it be something? to excuse herself from team dinner and say my girlfriend is calling. my wife is calling. to introduce herself to a camera and gesture to azzi beside her and say this is my lover. i love her. just to breathe her in without wondering if she’d ever have to forget her scent again. to love her simply. without fear.
wouldn’t it be something beautiful?
—
after touring new england, the miami heat was enough to plaster azzi’s freshly-done hair to her forehead and really piss her off. she’d driven with her crew down to atlanta, then immediately gotten on a plane to miami international. she wanted to think positively of the little palm tree decals on the floor, or laugh at the tourists who were somehow sunburnt in the middle of winter, but the muggy outside air seemed to press through the cracks of the building and suffocate her.
she was still getting used to travelling in disguise, and it was really beginning to piss her off. she felt like she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. she checked her shoulder at every turn. she adjusted the sleeve of her t-shirt like it was offensive, pulled her shorts down her thighs like someone would recognize her from the freckle behind her knee.
seeing paige behind the wheel of her car, blonde and brilliant and beautiful in the sun, made it all worth it.
paige’s face split into a majestic smile as her gaze landed on azzi, and azzi’s stress evaporated into thin air. her breath caught in her chest, suddenly giddy. god, good god, she’d missed her. paige scrambled out of the car to grab azzi’s things from her, already opening the trunk to throw her things inside.
“hi,” paige breathed as their hands brushed.
“hi,” azzi repeated, smiling ear to ear.
azzi slid into the passenger seat as paige closed the trunk. the car smelled good, and upon investigation, azzi discovered one of those air freshener things dangling from the rearview mirror. she couldn’t quite place the scent, but it was clean and sweet.
paige crawled back into the driver’s seat with a gentle sound, door thunking behind her. she turned to look at azzi, lips curved in an almost nervous smile. azzi studied her for a second. her hair was a little messy, dark marks under her eyes like she hadn’t been sleeping very well. she’d managed to put on some mascara, eyelashes curled up and making her wide-eyed stare towards azzi even more stark.
they looked at each other, stupid, for half a second. then azzi fisted her hand in paige’s shirt and yanked her in, kissing her deeply.
paige relaxed under her touch, kissing her firm but slow. god, it was good. “i missed you,” she mumbled against azzi’s lips. “how was your flight?”
“shut up,” azzi grumbled back, and paige grinned. azzi kissed it away, shifting closer, hands finding the back of paige’s neck. she swore paige’s touch was softer than she remembered, each press of their lips together meaningful and devastating. when azzi was done, she pulled away but stayed close enough to breathe in the same air.
she searched paige’s eyes. paige winked. she couldn’t resist giving her another peck.
“you missed me too,” paige said, not a question.
“shut up and drive.”
paige smiled, a little crazy, and turned towards the road. as soon as the car was in gear, her hand found azzi’s thigh. not squeezing, not searching. azzi exhaled and fell back deeper into the car seat, her heartbeat spiking every time she thought too hard about it.
it was funny how, through all their domesticity, azzi still felt like she had a crush on her. they’d seen each other for god knows how long in total, done everything there was to do, and the sight of her in the driver’s seat still made azzi a little giddy. she liked that premise. she made a mental note to see if she could write about it.
she dropped her stuff at paige’s apartment in miami, which looked to have been recently cleaned. she teased paige about it, and paige just shrugged with a grin and said had to clean up for my lady, to which azzi had gotten warm and not been able to respond. my lady.
she wanted that. she wanted to be paige’s lady, to have paige be hers. she just didn’t know how to go about it. she’d been the one to end it, so she should be the one to ask for it back? but she’d hurt paige, so maybe paige needed to be the one to decide that they could try again. it made her head hurt. was there a right way for it to happen? did paige want that? did she have a plan? was she waiting for azzi?
mid ushering her back into the car, paige stopped and looked at her.
“wait, az, there’s something on your face.”
azzi’s eyes widened. what could possibly be on her face? she hadn’t eaten all morning, hadn’t done anything messy. she reached up a panicked hand to her cheek. “what?”
paige grabbed her face in her hands before she could reach it herself and planted a long kiss on her lips.
“me,” paige grinned, eternally proud of herself.
azzi narrowed her eyes, but her lips twitched upwards.
“you’re awful. that was awful.”
“yeah, but you got to kiss me, so i know you don’t care.”
“you and this fucking ego,” azzi grumbled, “you’re nothing special.”
“oh, that’s not what you were saying on the phone the other week,” paige said jovially, shaking her head as she moved to get back into the car.
azzi rolled her eyes. “ego,” she singsonged again.
paige ignored her, turning on the ignition of her car. she buckled herself in, and azzi did the same. azzi’s mind drifted briefly, wondering if she should have brought a bottle of water to keep her throat moist. would she have time to squeeze in a workout today? would unrivaled let her use their facilities to train with paige after lunch?
“hey,” paige said, quieter. “how are you feeling about this?”
this? what was this? the car? the trip? their relationship?
azzi blinked at her.
“lunch,” paige clarified, “with my family.”
oh, shit. right. azzi had almost forgotten about the goal of this trip, why they weren’t just cuddling on paige’s couch and watching a movie.
how was she feeling? not nervous, then, because she hadn’t been thinking about it. not exactly excited. azzi had been around some of paige’s family before– her parents, stepparents. ryan and lauren. drew. some more than others. they’d gotten along well, especially the younger siblings; she’d kept up with them and wished them happy holidays throughout the years until she and paige broke up.
azzi had never been overly drawn to paige’s parents. she had four, and azzi barely had two. her mom and her stepdad were nice, but azzi couldn’t stomach being around them for long periods of time. she’d been pretty reserved around them, electing to let paige talk as much as possible, which she now regretted. paige’s dad and stepmom were a bit more comfortable to be around, for no discernable reason, but she still hadn’t exactly felt like a part of the family throughout the years.
which was mostly her own fault. it wasn’t easy to relax into someone else’s dynamic. it wasn’t easy being asked questions and freaking out after every one, not sure if they’re trying to degrade you or shame you somehow. it was hard to divulge information to people when she wasn’t sure that it wouldn’t be used against her another time, if anything were to go wrong. and things had gone wrong. which, in retrospect, probably made them think about her even worse.
okay, now she was nervous.
“um–” she mumbled, “who’s coming, again?”
“my mom and my stepdad. lauren and ryan. drew’s came down, too, he–” paige’s voice cracked, “he missed you.”
okay, now she felt like shit.
“right.”
paige’s hand squeezed her thigh. “i’ve already told them about– everything,” she said, careful. “like we talked about. they know about your parents, and the album, and that we’re okay now. they were really understanding. they’re really excited to see you.”
azzi was saved from having to respond via a loud ping from her phone. it was tiktok link, sent by mackenzie, with no caption. she clicked on it, curious.
the opening shot was paige, crowded by reporters and looking agitated. “azzi fudd,” she said, quietly, “is none of my business. nor yours.” in the back, fucking orbiter sang quietly– even anxious pups need the moon.
a clip of paige knocking sophie cunningham on her ass, pissed off. i howl for you. a clip of azzi from the viral video of her singing lovesong at the festival. i sing to you. a montage of screenshots of paparazzi photos of paige showing up at azzi’s apartment, of paige outside azzi’s hotel the night of her ysl party, likes on each other’s recent posts. i circle you.
“bro, was that me?” paige asked.
“don’t call me bro.”
“azzi, my sweet love. was that me?”
“i don’t know, bro.”
“bruh.”
bruh, azzi typed back to mackenzie.
mackenzie: Dude, look at the likes
azzi muted her phone as she went back to the video. 376.2k, the number above below the heart read. jesus christ. she did herself a disservice, and she opened the comments.
which could mean nothing.
they matt damon’ed her ass. damn. she turned her phone right off. she opened it again to dislike mackenzie’s message. then, she turned it off for real.
“baby,” paige tried again. azzi bit back a smile. “was that me?”
“no. you’re you.”
“i’m not above domestic violence.”
“that’s for sure. you’ve already choked me.”
“and it made you cum, shut up. can i please be nosy? what was the video of me?” paige pestered her.
azzi sighed, resting her head against the window. “just some stupid tiktok edit that mackenzie sent me.”
“was it a thirst trap?” paige smirked. “i get a lot of those.”
“no,” azzi rolled her eyes. she made a mental note to look up paige thirst traps later. “just another ship edit. it went viral, that’s why she sent it to me.”
paige snorted. “classic.” her eyes lit up, “oh, hey, i forgot to mention, ryan’s bringing his girlfriend. her name is celia, and she’s pretty cool.”
“oh, nice,” azzi said, “is lauren still dating her boyfriend from last summer?”
“thank god, no. drew’s got a girlfriend now, though. but she’s not coming.”
“damn, that doesn’t feel right. they’re all so old now,” azzi frowned. she could picture drew’s baby face, his first day of middle school. his dark, shining eyes, the way he looked at paige like she held the secrets to the universe. it was sweet. it used to make her a little sick. she missed it, now.
“well,” paige shrugged, “that’s what happens when you grow up.”
address me, said the elephant in the room.
azzi stole a glance at paige, who was already looking at her out of the corner of her eye. they both quickly looked away.
the car braked to a stop in the parking lot of a restaurant. azzi checked her phone for the time.
two fifteen. they were fifteen minutes early. good, she thought. i won’t have to walk in to everyone already being there. she shuddered at the thought of entering with everyone’s eyes on her, searching and scanning her, scouring her face for the sign of any emotion but happiness.
can we leave? she wanted to ask. “cuban sandwiches. nice,” she mumbled instead. paige smiled in response, getting out of the car.
the restaurant was small, diner-esque, and it didn’t even look like somewhere that hosted reservations. the floor was colorful tile, murals stretched from wall to wall, and the chairs, tables, and bar were a sweet chestnut color. there was a tangy, rich smell in the air, and it was oddly comforting. azzi breathed it in deeply.
paige’s hand found hers and squeezed. azzi’s anxiety dissipated for all of four seconds before she saw that paige’s family was already all gathered at a table in the back corner. shit. wonderful. it was show-up-early-to-lunch-tuesday.
just like azzi had feared, every single person’s eyes were glued to her. paige was taller than her, dressed in a light blue shirt that was totally eye-catching and sporting neon fucking shoes, but nope. azzi was where everyone was looking. she managed a small smile in their direction and forced her hand up to wave. hey guys. nothing to look at over here. just another day.
paige had clearly been to the restaurant before, and, after smiling at her family, she turned behind the counter to dap up the waiter. he made a comment about her wnba season and winked in azzi’s direction, making a comment about her pretty girl. azzi’s grip tightened on paige, and her cheeks warmed.
it was something that never changed. other than when she visited dallas, azzi hadn’t gotten to experience it much, but it was still true; paige was universally beloved everywhere that she went. azzi sometimes forgot that paige had that effect on other people as well as herself, always the social glue and the life of the party. people gravitated towards her. she was just so good.
azzi wore her smile on her face like a spinning top, wobbling but true. paige didn’t let go of her hand for a singular second as they waded over to the corner of the restaurant, even when she reached around the table to give those she could brief side hugs and exchange pleasant greetings.
they sat down. lauren sat across from azzi, with drew at the head of the table on her left. paige sat to azzi’s right, celia to her right, ryan at the other head. paige’s mom and stepdad were next to lauren, catty-corner to azzi. unconsciously, she squeezed paige’s hand.
she expected paige to squeeze her back subtly, but paige paused her greetings to turn towards her and press a lingering kiss to her cheek instead. she caught her eye as she pulled away, reassuring. azzi nodded.
she looked back up, anxious to see if anyone had noticed her nerves. to her surprise, everyone had busied themselves with the menu, or the napkins, or their phones. she blinked a few times in surprise. alright.
she swallowed. swing big, she instructed herself. “mrs. bueckers, how’s work going?”
paige’s mom’s face lit up. azzi studied the apples of her cheeks, the way they shone under the light like paige’s did. her face was softer than paige’s, lived-in.
she launched into an explanation of corporate finance, what it was like working with representatives for big firms. azzi found herself listening genuinely, not just politely. she asked questions and laughed. the metal bars shackled to her chest loosened, and she felt like she was able to breathe a little bit better.
by the time paige’s mom was finished, they’d segued into talking about the internships celia was looking into for the summer. paige was oddly inquisitive, and her and celia’s personalities flowed well together. paige had never really talked about her, and azzi wondered when they’d gotten to know each other so well.
celia, for her part, was the only family member who kept looking at azzi when she thought azzi wasn’t paying attention. she had a pleased smile on her face that she was clearly trying to hide, but azzi couldn’t place it.
well, the only family member other than drew. he asked azzi nervous questions, and she tried to return the favor. was he playing any sports? what were his friends like? did he play any video games? did he have a least favorite teacher in school?
in turn, he asked azzi about what it was like to be famous, how she played so many shows without getting tired. azzi made direct eye contact with him and tried not to think about how those same eyes used to look in a much smaller face. it was unsettling how much he’d grown. lauren, too, and ryan.
what settled the bile in her throat was that drew seemed nothing but timidly excited. his countenance showed no lingering distaste or hesitation. he didn’t seem to resent her for breaking his sister’s heart, and nor did anyone else. their entrees came and left, and paige’s knee never moved from hers below the table. everyone got the chance to talk, nobody fought, and azzi even slipped a few jokes in.
regardless of how her body relaxed, she still felt bug-eyed. she caught herself repeating the table’s laughter, smiles, and pleasantries over and over in her head like she was studying for a quiz, stuffing information together and trying to mop up what leaked through. like there was something to fail.
paige gently elbowed her in the middle of ryan’s discussion about his upcoming sports season. she leaned into azzi’s ear, lowering her voice.
“you okay, baby?”
azzi nodded, keeping herself focused on the conversation.
“relax,” paige whispered. azzi nodded again, but paige frowned, dissatisfied. “hey,” she muttered intently, jostling azzi’s side. azzi looked over at her, lips thin. “you’re doing great, baby. relax,” she repeated.
her eyes searched azzi’s, scanning her face. i’m serious, azzi could tell she meant to say. you’re safe.
slowly, gently, the last bits of azzi’s hesitation fell away. paige leaned in and kissed her cheek. her face pinkened.
ryan coughed. “lovebirds,” he tried to partially mask.
“shut up, ryan. don’t make me bring up you and celia during the last cabin trip,” paige tossed her napkin at his shoulder. he frowned, protesting.
“i don’t know what you’re talking about,” celia said, throat tight.
paige’s mom raised an eyebrow. “should i be hearing this?”
“it’s nothing,” ryan said at the same time paige said gleefully, “nope.”
azzi snorted. “be nice,” she muttered.
“well, azzi, i really have to tell you just how good it is to see you again. i know it’s been a while, but you’ve become such a sweet young woman,” paige’s mother turned to azzi, a gentle smile on her face. “you always were, of course, but it’s even more evident now.”
azzi felt a smile grow on her face, embarrassed at the attention. “thank you, mrs. bueckers, it was great to see you guys again and catch up. i like being around everyone,” azzi said. she found herself surprised that she meant it.
“we’ll probably see you around again soon,” paige’s stepdad added, “we might be able to catch you at one of your shows near us.”
azzi waited for the ice-cold shock of dread to course through her veins. it didn’t come.
she smiled. “that’d be great. it would be so cool to have you there.”
paige’s mother rested her chin in her palm. “i really am so happy for you, azzi. you’ve always been so talented, and it’s so much fun to watch you succeed. whenever we used to get you back in college, you were always so shy. it’s like seeing a whole new woman. it’s incredible how much you’ve grown.”
azzi searched her chest for panic at the perception, for the urge to overanalyze the sentences for deeper meaning. she found nothing but a quiet pleasure.
blinking, she shrugged and smiled bashfully. lauren and drew looked at her and exchanged a snort at the look on her face.
“so, azzi, if paige doesn’t mind me asking,” paige’s mother glared playfully in paige’s direction, “how exactly did you two reconnect?”
paige choked on the water she’d picked up to drink. azzi side eyed her, quickly. you said you’d told them everything, she wanted to complain. then she thought about paige telling her mom that they’d kicked paige’s hookup out of her hotel room so they could hatefuck, and she felt a little more empathetic.
she wondered if paige’s brain was also replaying azzi biting into paige’s collarbone, stripping her shirt off, muttering hate you while blinking away tears of admission.
“uh,” azzi started. her hair suddenly felt a little too warm against her scalp. “we both use this stylist sometimes, brittany. she didn’t know that we knew each other, and she invited us both to sit at a fashion show with her.”
“new york fashion week,” paige clarified, “she’d actually lent azzi some of my clothes for an interview a bit before.”
“you guys fit in the same clothes?” drew asked. “azzi’s got really big arms.”
“what the hell,” paige complained, “i’m the basketball player. this is ten pounds of straight muscle.” she flexed her arms underneath of her shirt, and azzi thought briefly about tearing it off so she could stare at it in peace.
paige’s stepfather piped up. “so, you guys saw each other and just picked up where you left off?”
well.
“pretty much,” azzi laughed. she stole another glance at paige out of the corner of her eye. the blonde’s cheeks were warm, and she was trying to avoid eye contact with azzi. when her free hand came up to tug at her ponytail, azzi fought the urge to lean over and kiss her cheek like it was something violent.
she looked back over at paige’s parents. their eyes were soft in the yellow restaurant light, understanding, as they watched paige get nervous. it was a look of love, of acceptance. it was so casual that it made azzi’s gut wrench, sudden and jerky. a wave of nausea overcame her, mouth wetting, jaw clenching.
on the table, paige’s phone vibrated. azzi looked down out of the corner of her eye to read the text.
ryan: Soooo are you guys dating again or
at the opposing head of the table, ryan was smirking as he looked at paige for a reaction. paige rolled her eyes at him, hand shooting out to lock her phone so that azzi couldn’t read it.
it was so easy. they were joking about it. something about that hit azzi, low and sharp. she sucked in a breath.
it was nothing to them. it was normal. their worldview operated within a frame of paige likes women, paige sees women, it’s the way the world works.
azzi didn’t have to hold herself back from kissing paige’s cheek. she didn’t need to make herself look perfect to make up for some imagined fault. paige’s parents didn’t care where she’d been, what she’d done. after everything, all that mattered to them was that paige loved her, that paige was happy. it was reflected in paige– that warmth, that forgiveness, that unconditional love.
it was so easy. it was so unfair.
the tears came to azzi’s eyes before she realized she’d summoned them, and she swallowed angrily as she tried to blink them away. jealousy, she realized, and it didn’t make her feel any better.
ryan: O shit is that a bad subject
paige scanned the message and nearly hurt her head whipping it around towards azzi. azzi’s stomach flipped, and she stood up abruptly, turning away. paige could not see her tearing up. she didn’t want her to think that anyone had done anything wrong.
“i’m going to use the bathroom really quickly! i’ll be right back,” she said as cheerfully as she could manage.
she berated herself mentally as she made her way to the bathroom. she’d known how this was going to be coming into it. the tears stung at her eyes more strongly, cheeks wetting with it as she swung open a stall door and locked herself inside.
“fuck,” she muttered to herself, looking up at the ceiling. stupid, she felt stupid.
was it enough? was it enough that it was breaking her heart? how much longer would it be before she could do this normally? would her body betray her like this forever?
everyone else was having a normal meal, and she could pull it together. she made a fist and pounded it against her hip, begging the feeling of fingernails clawing into her chest to go away. her tears had dried up, replaced by self-frustration.
it was so steady. paige was a grown woman who saw her family maybe once a month, but it was so normal. azzi’s life was bus, hotel, perform, crash, interview, write, repeat. adjusting to the calm of this environment was strange but gratifying, but for that to be compounded with yet another contrast– the one that hurt the most– was difficult.
a soft knock sounded from the door to the stall.
not now, she pleaded with the sky.
“azzi?” paige’s voice came through the cracks in the metal, small and vulnerable. azzi wiped the wetness from her cheeks and unlocked the door immediately, pulling a smile to her face at the sight of the blonde.
“hey,” paige said.
“hey,” she replied, “what’s up?”
“you okay?"
“yeah!” azzi said brightly. “why?”
paige’s blue eyes searched her face, her eyebrows twitching. azzi felt like a marionette on fraying strings, drawn up precariously.
paige surged forward and wrapped her in a hug. “c’mere,” she muttered into azzi’s neck, burying her face there.
the effect was instantaneous. azzi’s shoulders melted, hands coming up to hold paige’s waist.
paige loved so much it was overwhelming. she overflowed with it, spilling it into azzi’s chest. she saw azzi so tenderly, saw the world so tenderly; it was like each and every thing had given her life, like everything mattered in ways that azzi had never been able to comprehend. azzi couldn’t believe that she’d ever made herself go without her.
azzi’s shoulders shook with the effort of holding back her tears. it’s fine, she consoled herself, literally everything is fine.
“too much?” paige mumbled. azzi shook her head. never, never.
paige pulled back, keeping her hands around azzi’s waist and stroking it comfortingly. “baby,” she whispered, “what’s wrong?”
“nothing,” azzi maintained, voice thin. she tried again for a smile.
paige frowned. “azzi.”
“paige.”
“it’s me,” she whispered gently. “it’s just me.”
azzi swallowed, relaxing. she blinked rapidly. “i–” she started, and her words failed her. “i don’t–”
“take your time.”
azzi nodded, looking up at the ceiling. paige’s fingers drew slow shapes against the fabric of her shirt, grounding her.
“it was good, it was really good. everyone’s great,” she started.
“but?”
she shrugged. the enormity of her feelings, of an entire lifetime of shame and hiding, couldn’t really fit in the confines of a sentence. how was she supposed to say this isn’t normal, where is the yelling, where is the hopelessness, where is the guilt? how could she tell her i love you so much it feels like i should be punished for it?
“too good,” she admitted.
paige’s voice got quiet. “okay.”
“it’s really fine,” she rushed to clarify, “it’s really okay. it just– like– hit me out of nowhere. everything was going great, i promise, everyone’s wonderful. it’s just this feeling of, like, nobody’s judging, after everything. and i’ve never–” her voice cracked, “i’ve never had that, so. it’s just– it’s just uh. yeah.”
paige’s face drew up with worry, eyes full of a quiet concern. but she didn’t press. didn’t ask. she nodded.
“got it,” she murmured. “i’m sorry.”
“don’t be– don’t be sorry. you didn’t do anything.”
“i know,” paige said simply. she didn’t take it back. they looked at each other, soft and wordless, and azzi felt something inside of her click into place.
leaning forwards, she pressed a kiss to paige’s lips. paige drew her closer as they parted, pulling her back in for another, another. azzi’s worry slunk away, replaced by thoughts of love, love, love. paige was what was real.
when they finally stopped, paige’s lips were pink and she was flushed down to her neck. her pupils were a little larger, blinking slowly. azzi marveled at the effect that she still had on her, so long into knowing each other. paige, always with an outgoing attitude tried on for size, soft and pliant and nervous.
she wanted to say it. paige looked at her similarly, swallowing. time passed.
“thanks for checking on me,” azzi cleared her throat, stepping out of paige’s grip and out of the stall.
paige’s voice lowered. “of course.”
“we can head back,” azzi added. regardless of the fact that neither of them had used the bathroom, they washed their hands and headed back out. if anyone at the table had wondered about what they were doing, they didn’t show it.
paige’s stepdad held up the check. “you’re back just in time. we just paid!”
“what?” paige complained, “i told you i was going to get it.” azzi felt secretly annoyed for not paying it herself before anyone noticed.
“no, i was going to get it,” ryan joked. paige threw another napkin at him, which he dodged.
“let me get the tip,” azzi insisted, before paige could volunteer herself.
“what– no! baby,” paige pleaded, trying to pray azzi’s hands away from searching for her wallet in her purse.
“i’m going to get the tip,” she repeated, “cash is getting put on this table. don’t put anything on the card.” she pulled a couple of twenties from her wallet and tossed them onto the table.
“thank you, azzi. you didn’t have to,” paige’s mom smiled at her.
“thank you. this was wonderful. the food was great, and i had such a good time.” she meant it. she really did.
the rest of the family stood up and made their way out of the restaurant, paige and azzi following behind. paige’s mom turned towards paige. “i’ll see you at the game tomorrow.” she gave her a hug. “our jerseys finally came in.”
“dude, i know, they take so long to ship,” paige frowned.“and azzi,” paige mom beamed, drawing her into a similar hug. “we’ll see you sooner rather than later, i hope. let us know when you’re free.”
“bye, azzi,” drew gave her an awkward side hug. she did the same to ryan and celia, who waggled her eyebrows at azzi as they pulled away and looked over at paige. azzi, in turn, flicked her eyes to ryan, and celia shrugged.
azzi moved to hug paige’s stepdad while paige spun drew around in a circle. “hey, if you really want to come to a concert, just let me know the date. i can arrange tickets for you. i’m already doing it for her,” azzi said, nodding towards paige.
“she can afford it herself,” ryan scoffed.
“but that’s what you do for people you care about,” paige’s mom admonished him.
“that sounds great,” paige’s stepdad smiled. “i’ll ask paige to send me your number, so i can let you know.”
“anything you need,” azzi promised, “seriously.”
he thanked her, and they waved as they went their separate ways. the group of paige’s family headed across the parking lot to their own car, and two arms wrapped themselves around azzi’s waist from the back.
“paige,” she complained.
paige kissed her neck. “that was so much fun. they loved you. drew was so happy that you talked to just him for a while, i could see it on his face.”
azzi released a long breath, letting herself fall back into paige’s arms. “he’s so cute. he was so funny talking about his math teacher.”
“bro needs to lock in,” paige groaned.
“you were the same,” azzi reminded her, laughing.
“whatever,” paige grumbled, “let’s go back to the car..”
“okay.” they separated, heading back into paige’s car. azzi buckled her seatbelt out of habit as paige keyed the ignition on.
the car was silent as paige plugged instructions into her phone, and azzi stared out the window. she watched from a distance as ryan and drew chatted aimlessly, hopping into their own vehicle, at celia adjusting her braids in the reflection of the back door, at the parents having a discussion by the license plate. people from all parts of the country, coming together to exist as a family.
it had been hard for a brief moment, but overall the meal had been near-perfect. everyone was kind, everyone liked to talk. azzi felt safe to exist as herself. there was still a bit of caution in her brain, but her heart couldn’t lie.
watching them, azzi didn’t feel an ache. she felt like coming home.
generally, being a part of this family didn’t feel like something unattainable, didn’t remind her of what was taken from her. there would always be moments of hurt, and no family was perfect, but it was present. she was free to exist without fear. she thought about her mother’s last words to her–
i know we’re not perfect, honey, but we’re family. doesn’t that mean anything to you? we’re trying.
it didn’t. it meant nothing to her. the concept of family, blood related family, made no difference. this family, these people who loved each other, who were open and calm and bickered like the world wouldn’t end if they disagreed, meant something. it opened up a part of azzi that she’d been shutting down, just a crack.
“they’re really accepting,” she admitted quietly, “it’s really nice.”
“yeah,” paige smiled, “they’ve been there for me through a lot. so have my dad and my stepmom. no pressure to see them again anytime though, seriously.”
azzi sent her a grateful look.
“hey, just wondering,” paige started carefully, “i know you haven’t seen your brothers in a while. and you don’t have to, at all– you don’t know what they’re like now, and they still live with your parents, and– well– have you ever thought about reaching out again?”
azzi’s heart squeezed in her chest. “yeah. i might.”
“sure,” paige said easily, not pushing any farther. the directions popped up on the car’s console, and she moved to apple music to choose a playlist to listen to. a song came on that azzi used to love in college, and she laughed as she recognized it. it was chill, a guitar-driven love song with a steady beat.
“we’re on the seabed,” she sang under her breath, “dancing in the bay.”
paige grinned from ear to ear at her reaction, pleased that she enjoyed the choice. azzi rolled her eyes with a similar smile on her face. there wasn’t thing about her that paige didn’t seem to remember.
the song played out for a little, and they sat and listened. it felt right, just sitting there with paige. listening to a song she used to adore, full and fresh off a good hangout with good people. azzi regretted that she’d ever have to leave.
it hit her, then, what this was. azzi was now fully integrated back into paige’s life. she’d met her teammates, her old friends, her family. they were far beyond pretense of being casual, beyond pretending like this wasn’t something deeper than what they were calling it. fuck. what was paige thinking? azzi hadn’t integrated her into her social circles the same, even though it wasn’t fully possible.
azzi should set up a hangout with mackenzie, she thought, or dorka. everyone who’d filled in the cracks that had been created when she’d left paige.
she stole a glance at paige, stupidly soft in her bright blue shirt. paige was already looking back at her with a strange look across her face, like she was deep in thought.
“what?” azzi asked quietly.
paige chewed her lip for a second, contemplating.
“i just want you to know,” she started slowly, “that i don’t ever want to make you feel unwanted or unloved ever again. i don’t want to make you have to fear that.
azzi’s heart skipped a nervous beat, and she blinked. “i know. same goes for you.”
“no, i–” paige cut herself off, frustrated, “like, in any situation. i don’t think– i don’t want– fuck.”
“what?” azzi repeated, confused.
“fuck,” paige muttered, again. “i didn’t want to– here– but–”
she buried her face in her hands. azzi looked around. was there something she was missing?
paige cleared her throat and put her hands down, shoulders adjusting. “i mean never. and i know we were stupid once, and we did this before with our guards not fully down. but this time– swear, this time feels different. and– shit,” she tore her eyes away from azzi, looking up at the ceiling, “this is so hard.”
azzi’s heartbeat rang through her entire head. she felt like she was buzzing.
“azzi,” paige exhaled. she forced her gaze up to meet azzi’s again. her voice when she spoke was quiet and vulnerable. “would you want to try again?”
a wounded sound escaped from the depths of azzi’s throat. would you want to try again? would you want to try again? the words pounded in an echo in her mind. her hands clenched. her stomach swooped. paige felt it too. paige forgave her.
“would you let me?”
“azzi,” paige turned towards the steering wheel, voice punched out, “i want you so badly. so badly. it’s driving me crazy.”
azzi drank in the lines of her body, slumped and almost defeated with it. like the weight of the love she was carrying physically hurt.
“i want you,” azzi whispered. paige’s grip on her own shorts tightened. she pressed her lips together.
“you’re sure?”
“it’s all i ever want. always you,” azzi confessed.
at her words, paige melted. she turned back towards azzi, eyes shining. azzi unbuckled her seatbelt and surged forwards, embracing her fiercely. mine, her head said. mine, mine, mine. her head rushed with it, squeezing paige even tighter. paige’s hands were somewhere around her back, pulling her as close as she could possibly get her. finally, finally, they could touch each other without reservation.
when azzi’s core started to ache at how she was bent over, she pulled away. she sat back in her seat, a dopey smile on her face. mine.
paige seemed to be having similar thoughts, because she leaned over towards azzi and kissed her cheek repeatedly. “my girlfriend,” she sing-songed as she finally moved to buckle herself in.
azzi rolled her eyes. corny. she said nothing, body feeling like she was floating away from herself. jesus christ. she was a grown woman. a renowned artist. she’d been fucking paige for half a year. she’d been in love with her forever. she could chill out.
we’re dating, her brain reminded her. “holy shit,” she muttered.
paige burst out laughing. “holy shit!” she affirmed, “this fucking rocks.”
“of course it does,” azzi tried to sound annoyed, but she couldn’t stop grinning. “i’m great.”
paige shook her head and turned up the music. “oh my god, i can’t wait to tell everyone. i mean, just our friends. not everyone.”
azzi thought about that stupid edit of them that she’d seen earlier. about how many likes were on it, how much support they had. half of her wanted to keep it that way– speculation, privacy. but the other half of her knew how well it would be received by most people. and she was tired of hiding.
“everyone…eventually?” she asked carefully.
paige’s hand froze on the clutch. “no rush.”
azzi nodded. she tried to hide her smile behind her hand so she looked less ridiculous.
eventually.
ALL FOURS (and all pride aside)
contains: situationship!ju x possesive!oc. drug use. no one knows about them. i won't have you, but no one else can, either. TOXIC AS FUCK. juju's an asshole. zara's insane. dismissive relationship. more drug use. orgasm denial. strap. written in the pits of depression. the end isnt proofread at all i'm so sorry. for @hcneymooners
word count: 8.2k
niyah speaks: hi. i'm back.
i could never date a bitch that don't wanna make me main course. i don't want much, just want you obsessed with me, of course. is this just sex, girl. what's next? i need more.
zara hadn't drank all night and she didn't plan to. she'd been more of a smoker anyway, but drinking never ended well for her. not because she got sloppy or because she couldn't handle her liquor, but because when zara drank, the heat of the liquor melted something in her ribs and made her softer. made it easier for her to speak and smile and say shit that she ordinarily tried so hard not to say.
the party was hardly a rager. it was less a party and more a gathering of inebriated college students. between finals and preparing for summer, the entire campus had worked themselves to the bone, too tired for booming music and flashing lights. it was calm, everyone tucked into a different corner of the massive airbnb.
zara had been with the women's basketball team and those that associated. everyone was drunk and/or high and zara was no exception. she'd been pulling from her own blunt and a few others', losing herself in the haze of her high. she hadn't been talking much, but she never usually did. she'd always been an observer. she was fine sitting in the middle of the couch, watching the world swirl around her.
she'd been between AG and rian, arms linked under her breasts, flicking her lighter as a stim. her jorts sagged against her knees and the edge of her cropped wife beater hugged her ribs just enough for her to remember it was on. everyone was debating some sport topic, quiet but boisterous still, base laced in their voices but softened by whatever vice they'd picked for the evening.
she loved this part. when the noise around her matched the volume of the blood rushing in her ears and her head felt a little immobile. it would only last a few minutes— five if she was lucky— but it would be the height of her high. she sat there, eyes shut but grinning, hair spread across the back of the couch, blood humming as it pulsed throughout her body. a perfect world would always feel like this.
"what's good, ju?" that was AG, beside zara. she sat up to dap her teammate up, making the entire couch shift.
zara's eyes slid open, and her vision was fuzzy but once the edges sharpened, zara's eyes fell on the pillar of a woman accepting a blunt from AG.
she hadn't seen juju in about two weeks because she'd been somewhere doing something but she still looked the same. juju always looked beautiful. even now, with low, red rimmed eyes and aging fulani braids flowing down her back in a ponytail.
zara felt her chest get tight as she took the woman in. judea watkins was six feet two inches of smooth, tanned skin draped over endless planes of hard muscle. she was elysian— peaceful and perfect in all that she was. she just stood there with all that stature and grace, and zara wanted to make her a shell. she wanted to see juju crumble the way she always did when they were together.
"shit, chillin." juju smiled, turning towards the group. "hey y'all."
everyone said hi, some dapped her up, zara did nothing. she didn't have to. she knew juju had seen her, knew she'd say something eventually. and she was right because after she'd made her rounds, she stopped right in front of her.
"hey, zara." she smiled down, her teeth poking out from under her top lip.
zara leaned forward to return the dap juju was offering. "ju."
she'd put ju in every position. had goofy talks where they laughed all night, serious conversations that resulted in silence on both ends for weeks. but she couldn't put her finger on what it was about ju. couldn't figure out why she couldn't just move the fuck on.
it wasn't like juju gave her much to go on.
they'd met their freshman years through mutual friends, and at first, zara was completely taken aback. juju didn't seem like a real person back then. she'd been the number one recruit in her class. she'd taken her team to the elite eight at eighteen years old. she hung out in lebron james' backyard, and signed legendary deals with nike— all while smiling at everyone she spoke to and donating basketball shoes to poor kids in LA.
they hadn't gotten close, but zara become acutely aware of every time juju entered a room. she noticed every corner juju slipped into, every conversation that ended with juju leaving with some girl she did not come with.
the first time they'd linked wasn't planned— at least not by zara. initially, she had no intention of knowing juju beyond an acquaintance level. but then one night between her freshman and sophomore year, at some forgettable summer party, juju poured her a drink before lamenting on how exhausted she was. zara drove her home that night and ate her until all she could do was lay her head against a pillow and babble until she finally fell asleep.
they'd gone on like that for months, and zara appreciated it— she still appreciated their current arrangement, but there was something about that first summer that zara had involuntarily memorialized.
she was woman enough to admit she felt something at first. she felt a great shame about the whole thing, but she could recognize that somewhere down the line, she grown confused. allowed herself to expand on silly ideas like spending the day with juju, or going on a date.
but then she realized that outside of that post-nut fog, where everything was warm and smelled like pepper and something sweet, zara couldn't fucking stand juju watkins.
she liked juju's body, and the way she sounded when she came. but she didn't like the way juju perceived the world, she hated juju's lack of regard for her partner's feelings and she mostly loathed the fact that juju didn't give a damn that she was unliked by her.
she couldn't give a fuck less. when someone told her no, someone else told her yes, and zara quickly realized how significant she was to juju— how insignificant she'd always be.
the crush died there, and zara stopped feeling those little pangs in her chest completely, which was honestly a blessing. because there's something about a crush akin to humiliation, and as much as she hated this about herself; zara was a deeply sensitive person.
so to her, a crush was like ecstasy. a lack of information— yes— but one that allowed her a blissful altered consciousness whenever juju was present. it was an honest to god physical reaction every single time.
lungs wide, heart beating a loud against her ribs. judea— untamed, drenched in gold, painful and stirring and conflicting all the way down to her cells.
"how long you home?" that was gabi, asking before taking a hit of her nic.
juju took a hit of the blunt and shrugged. "bout a month. ion gotta be nowhere til the beginning of june."
gabi nodded, accepting the blunt. "'s what's up."
the night went on. the music kept flowing, and the conversation stayed drifting but it was all happening in a version of the world zara wasn't in.
she was too busy openly staring at juju. no one was paying enough attention to say anything, and even still…. zara never gave a fuck. apparently, neither did juju because she hadn't looked at her since she said hello.
but zara still never moved her eyes, taking juju in for everything she was. she sat deep in some recliner that had just been around and her ponytail ran down the back of the chair, the braids a dark contrast against the heather gray. knees spread wide, one hand holding her phone face down in her lap, the other routinely bringing her pen to her lips, each pull completed with the same eye-catching finesse that seemed to define the woman as a person.
most of the time, zara paid attention to juju's face, though. every feature was sharp— the downward angle of her cheekbones, the cuts of her eyes, the natural perfect arch of her brows— but there was a gentle roundness that made up for it. a softness in her cheeks and the curve of her lip. little things like the rounded tip of her slanted nose that made juju seem a little less godlike, and a little more like rest of them.
she took up an amount of space in zara's life that no one else was allowed, and she claimed it without permission. zara found almost everything about her irritating.
AG, following juju's line of sight to the group of girls standing on a wall, smirked and leaned forward so her palms rested on her knees.
"you see somethin you like?"
instantly, zara zeroed in on the group of girls. she knew which one juju was talking about before she said it. it was the girl on the left, short and dark skinned in a white bohemian-ish outfit. she held a red cup and a tube of lip gloss, and she'd been smiling big at something someone in her group had said. she was pretty. she seemed oblivious to the fact that she was being plotted on, like a gazelle waiting to be torn apart by some sadistic, waiting lion.
"yeah, girl on the left." juju looked down at her lap, checking her phone for less than a second, then flipping back face-down. "might have to head out with that."
zara returned to the conversation, face falling at juju's suggestion. it wasn't that she'd expected to leave with juju, but hearing it still made everything around her fizz into focus. suddenly, zara was listening to everything, was aware of the heat and the slightly stale scent of the room.
just like that, juju had blown her high.
"oh for real?" zara wasn't loud, and there was no bite in her tone whatsoever.
to the rest of the group, she was probably just high. that's why her jaw was so tight, and her nostrils had flared out, and she'd started gripping the legs of her jorts.
in actuality, zara was having an unnaturally visceral reaction to the idea of once again watching juju leave with someone besides her. she could physically feel herself get sick to the stomach.
across from her, juju caught her gaze, those angular eyes locking onto hers for a second, the corner of her mouth twitching upward.
"yeah, for real."
zara looked away first, annoyed that that felt like losing.
"bet that."
cause respectfully, i could have any bitch on all fours. got your favorite bitch and their favorite bitch in the corner.
zara knew with her logical brain that she had no right to be upset with juju for wanting someone else. she'd known she had no real claim over her, and that it was hypocritical to even feel the annoying possessive ping in her chest.
so yes, she'd acknowledged that her feelings were in fact invalid. she had no real leg to stand on, but she didn't give a damn. she couldn't. because the ping as actually more of a pang— a deeper blow to the ribs that hit harder than zara was willing to admit. she had to do something.
she didn't consciously make the decision to sober up but she'd excused herself from the rotation and that was a decision in itself. everyone noticed when she stood up and and quietly stepped away, and no one believed her when she said she was just taking a lap. but they let her go anyway, to focused on the conversation they were having to think too hard about what the hell zara was doing. juju didn't even pay her too much mind, but that was typical.
she'd grown accustomed to juju dismissing her. it was their Thing. but zara knew who juju was. she knew she hated being perceived, but she loved quiet, private attention. she figured out that juju wasn't an objectively good person after the sixth time they'd had sex. it was during that first summer, the night juju's AC went out, and she'd showed up to zara's house with deuce, a duffel bag, and the promise of a good time.
zara had been silently sipping from a water bottle, and juju was petting deuce, who had been laid blissfully in the gap of juju's crossed legs. they were tired and fucked out and trying to figure out what to do together after they got their nut off.
juju broke the silence, because of course she did. "ion usually do shit like this."
zara looked up from her phone, then slowly turned her head and gave the woman she'd just put through the mattress the nastiest duh, bitch face she could manage.
"yeah i picked that up when you walked out the first time without so much as a pat on the back." she rolled her eyes, sipped her water, and went back to what the hell she'd been doing. "'s okay. i'm not trippin'"
it wasn't a complete lie. her feelings had been hurt, but she learned her lesson and charged it to the game. her being another notch in someone's bedpost wasn't something she wanted to dwell on, still. she wanted to changed the topic, or better yet— just stop talking all together.
but of course, this was also the night zara learned she was was fucking with the lightskin yap-a-tron3000.
"i mean you don't really have a reason to." she said. "we aren't together. you knew what this was when you signed up for it."
in the quiet, zara heard juju sniff, and she felt the headboard rock as juju shrugged, and it took everything in her not to choke juju the fuck out.
"…which is why i said it's okay." she repeated, still not looking up from her phone. "i know how friends with benefits works, judea."
"we're friends?"
zara's fingers twitched around her phone, desperate for a physical release of the anger that was growing in her chest. she didn't understand what the purpose of the whole conversation was. she was doing her part. she'd fucked juju, she'd cleaned her up and made sure she was okay. now it was time to sleep. this was the part where they were supposed to sleep and wake up in the middle of the night accidentally touching. and juju was supposed to remove zara's arm from around her in the morning and slip out and that would be the end of it.
but juju was making it a thing. she was making this something to remember. why was she doing that?
"you wanna stay here or not, girl?"
she looked at juju's face then, searching for any sign of getting further irritated.
crickets.
"exactly."
so they went silent again until zara finally decided to sleep away that awkward feeling in her spine you get after being hunched over for too long. or maybe she just wanted the morning to come so juju would leave. regardless, juju still took the flicking off of the lamp as a sign to make shit all the worse.
"so…." they both were still sitting up against the headboard, but zara had started rearranging her pillows so she could lay down. "we supposed to cuddle or sum?"
zara very rarely allowed non-family to touch her outside of sex or a light church-hug. but that was because physical touch was her love language, and she hated loving people. but juju was shaking and begging to be held moments before. who says no to a wet dog?
she looked over to juju, who was scratching at her palms. "i mean… we can."
it wasn't immediate, but juju readjusted herself and threw up an arm so the duvet draped down like an awning, waiting for zara to slide into it.
she did. obviously. and if felt just the way she thought it would. but she tried not to think too hard about the fact that she hadn't been spooned in… ever and she'd been craving this kind of thing since she learned what the word desire meant. she just reminded herself that this was nothing, and that juju was kind of a bitch, and that craving arises from a place in you that is empty. that's all it was— all it could ever be. fulfilling a craving. an external attempt to feel whole. temporary. but water will always spill out of the hole at the bottom of the bucket.
she blinked, pulled herself out of it, and let herself settle into the arms of a woman she didn't fully understand yet.
"why you gotta be such an ass?" she didn't mean to ask, but she wanted the answer anyway, so she bit her tongue and waited.
juju didn't say anything at first. zara could feel her breathing slow against her back, rib rubbing against the knobs of her spine. juju wasn't caressing her, or making her feel particularly comfortable, but she wouldn't have survived that anyway. so whatever, that was fine. zara was perfectly fine with a still hand along her waist, and the bicep that would occasionally flex under her head.
"what's the point in pretending this is something it isn't?" juju finally asked. "'s not like we're dating. we're not girlfriends, or soulmates or whatever bullshit."
truth. she and juju had never been alone outside of their bedrooms, let alone on a date. truth. they were not girlfriends and zara had no intention of them ever becoming. truth. whoever zara's soulmate was, was not juju watkins.
she couldn't really be mad at the statement, even if the delivery was harsh enough for zara to taste bile in the back of her throat.
redirecting her focus, she let her fingertips dance over the back of juju's hand, mindlessly tracing the raised skin of her tattoo.
tears dry…
"you think soulmates are bullshit?"
another pregnant pause. another change in breath rhythm. another flex of the bicep.
"i think people get too caught up in the idea of someone happening to them. like someone is just gonna fall into their life and just be there. like we're destined to have this permanent fixture in their lives just because "everyone has a soulmate.""
"you don't think so?"
"i think soulmates are a choice." juju started from behind her, shifting slightly. her body language had changed, but her voice sounded the same. she gotten softer since they'd laid down. quieter, gentler, easier to access. "it's not some like… divine intention for us to have a specific person. but i do think we have the option to stick by the people we love. ya know? like we make decision— conscious or unconsciously."
"so you think love is a choice?"
no matter the response, zara would have understood.
humans are the only animal that considered their mates with so much conviction. she understood that at some point, a dynamic— a relationship— becomes a choice. but then again, she was laying uncomfortable in her own bed, wrapped in the arms of a woman subliminally telling her she feels nothing for her. and she wasn't there because she wanted to be.
"i didn't say that." juju shook her head and tapped her fingers against zara's hip bone. "if that was the case, i'd choose the easy route and get a boyfriend or something."
fair enough.
"no, love isn't a choice. we love people even when we don't want to— at least i do— but we choose to stay. even when they hurt you, or yell at you. belittle you, hit you, make you wanna rip every hair out ya damn head— we still stay. not because we love them— you can love someone from afar— but because we decide."
zara had a million point she could make. a million applicable arguments and rebuttals but she was too worried about the single question at the forefront of her brain.
who're you talking about?
but just as the wah sound was about to leave her mouth, she stopped. because if she'd said something like that, juju wouldn't have asked that question— she wouldn't have asked any question. she wouldn't have argued, either. she'd probably have grown tired of the conversation by now, and given minimal responses until it died.
zara could have said fuck it and asked her question. she could have put the care juju needed into that moment. but for what? to learn more about juju and fall for her just to be rejected? or to be told it was none of her business and dismissed?
fuck that.
so yeah— zara hadn't expected juju to care much about what she was doing, or who she was doing it with. she was honestly envious of the woman's ability to be a sociopath. zara would never be able to do that, but she could redirect her energy towards something beyond… whatever she felt.
when she approached the girl in the white bohemian-ish outfit she didn't know what her goal was. she told herself she just wanted to talk to the girl, but she couldn't come up with a reason why. at least not one she could justify. because if anyone asked her what the hell she was doing, and she said ruining juju's night…. that probably wouldn't have blown over well.
but it was the truth. zara didn't completely know what she was doing, but she knew she didn't want juju going home with this girl— with lily. it wouldn't be right. she didn't get to make zara's chest hurt and then get her nut off at the end of the night. and if she didn't want zara, she couldn't want anyone else. at least not in zara's face like she wasn't even there.
lily was pretty, and she spoke with her hands. every time she laughed at something zara said, the corner of her bottom lip would tuck itself between her molars, and she'd tilt her head forward so she could shake her her shoulders. she was a cool girl, with a light in her eyes that zara was almost sure juju would snuff out without even meaning to.
"you come with somebody?" zara's eyes held lily's begging her to say yes, to become a willing participant in whatever game juju and zara were playing.
maybe it wasn't even a game. maybe it was just zara being spiteful.
lily blinked and bit back a smile before saying "no."
zara could admit that she had a bad habit of acting on emotion. that she often found herself in unnecessary situations because her feelings were hurt. and she could pretend to be sorry about it, or lie and say it was something she was working on. but she wasn't sorry, and it wasn't something about herself she planned on changing any time soon.
"you trynna leave with somebody?"
"maybe."
zara was doing this. she'd decided.
"c'mere."
—
the house wasn't big enough for zara to go unnoticed, and that was entirely zara's point. by the time they started moving towards the bathroom, zara was sure that she was seen by at least two people from her group. her actions weren't 100% malicious, she did enjoy kissing lily. it wasn't about her specifically, but it still felt nice to have someone pressed against her. to be able to grab at whatever part of a body she so desired because her touch was wanted wherever it was was accessible.
so, with her hand wrapped around lily's hip, and her mouth sliding against hers, it wasn't necessarily community service for zara to guide lily back into that bathroom. she was enjoying it as much as her, at least.
the dingy lighting in the bathroom didn't matter. neither did the pungent stench of hot boxed weed seeping out of the walls. zara was too focused on the way lily tasted, and wondering if juju had discovered that the girl she'd been planning to shark had been snatched from her. she lifted lily enough for her to be able slide onto the counter, and then stepped between her legs, hands bracketing her thighs. she wasn't pulling her closer, but her hands were there and that was something.
lily was touching her everywhere— hair, hips, ass— she was everywhere. her mouth moved against zara's, open and panting and licking past her lips so she could get even more. zara was making no move to take this beyond a make out in the bathroom, but lily was on go-mode. that was nice. it was uplifting to zara's ego. it was the whole point of this whole thing.
but zara wasn't satisfied and she knew she wouldn't be, no matter how far they took it on the bathroom counter. lily wasn't ignoring her, or driving her up the fucking wall. and she was too small, too easy to control. she wasn't who zara really wanted, whether she wanted to admit that or not.
she told herself she could do it. that she would do it. she'd decided, damn it. but she knew this was pointless. juju probably didn't even remember lily. she was likely onto the next visible gazelle. she pulled away, resting her hand on the linoleum under lily.
lily licked her bottom lip and drew in a quick breath, wide eyes blinking open in confusion. "what's wrong?" she looked over zara's face, then to the space between them.
zara looked for the words, but her throat felt too full to get anything out. she felt like she'd swallowed twelve cotton balls with no bev, and she didn't what she was supposed to say to this woman. but just when she was about ot start stuttering out some bullshit excuse, someone knocked on the door while simultaneously opening it.
it was juju. slightly red in the face, ponytail now a bun that sat at the base of her neck. untamed, drenched in gold, painful and stirring and conflicting all the way down to her cells…
"the fuck are you doing, bro?" she was angry, eyes sharper than normal, lips tighter than usual.
lily gasped and jumped a little in her spot, hand flying to cover her open, kiss-swollen mouth. she looked horrified, chest beginning to rise and fall faster than it had already been. and juju looked like she couldn't even be bothered. she hadn't looked at lily since she'd busted in the room. no, her anger was directly solely at zara.
this fucking girl.
"minding my business and staying out of yours." zara said, stepping back, but not completely away from lily.
juju squinted at zara's answer before putting a finger in the air. "then what's this?"
zara blinked, because she didn't have a response. there literally wasn't an answer because she didn't know what the fuck she was doing.
she was doing nothing and something seismic simultaneously. seconds before she'd been trying to figure how to walk out on her but she wouldn't say that. mostly because she refused to hand over that win to juju, but some itty bitty part of her wanted to push a boundary. because this was new.
juju had been mad at her before, that much was obvious in the way zara wasn't intimidated at all by her clenched fists or seriously heated gaze. but she'd never gotten angry with zara for messing with someone else. juju had never really cared about what zara was doing when they weren't together. until now.
she looked at lilly because she didn't have an answer for juju, and honestly she didn't need to be there for the conversation that was about to occur. she got the hint, thankfully, and slid off the counter, wiping her mouth and readjusting her clothes.
"i'm just gonna um—" she pointed to the door moved her lips into a thin line that zara thought was supposed to be a smile. "go."
"yeah, great idea." juju sidestepped and allowed her to walk out the door, before shutting it with her back and leaning all of her weight on it.
zara felt like she was on something stronger than the weed. she was going crazy— she had to be. because there was no way juju was looking at her like she'd just spit on her, and all zara could focus on was the fact that she had finally given her some sign of a functional emotion panel in her brain.
she looked over juju once again, eyes trailing from the woman's shoes all the way up to the blurring parts in her hair. she wasn't all the way put together but she still looked the fuck good. tired and pissed off, but fuck— so so good.
"you good?" zara teased because she knew she could.
juju shut her eyes, and took a deep breath that zara could see flow through her whole body. she looked like she was trying to keep her cool, and zara thought that was cute. juju wouldn't succeed, but it was cute.
"no." it was a deep, guttural use of two fucking letters, but the depth of it had zara's arm hair standing up.
"aw." zara fake pouted and rubbed her index and pointer finger together, playing the world's saddest song on the world's tiniest violin. "get over it."
juju puffed out an irritated breath through her nose and threw her head against the door. "why do you have to be such a evil bitch about everything?"
zara wanted to freeze. wanted to take a step back and think about what the question really meant. because the easy train of thought would be she's just saying shit because we're fighting. but zara, who had never been normal about anything in her life, took a different route.
why am i such an evil bitch about everything? what the fuck is wrong with me right now? fuck. i'm acting fucking insane and she can see it.
she felt the corners of her eyes beginning to itch, and the tip of her nose begin to burn and no— she wasn't about to cry. that was against the rules. she never cried, especially not over juju fucking watkins.
she let the question hang in the air, the choice to not answer it clear. and when she couldn't breathe the silence in anymore, she looked juju dead in her eyes and asked,
"you really mad?"
decisions. be honest or don't. be vulnerable or don't.
"yeah."
"you wanna argue?"
decisions. open the door. close the door. talk about it. keep doing what we're doing.
"nah."
"i wanna go home, ju."
decisions.
"come on, then."
but none of that don't mean shit when all i want is yours
the drive was a quiet one, everything zara could possibly say shoved in the dip between her collarbones. she passed the freshly rolled wood, following juju's hand as she received it and brought it to her lips. now, they were at her apartment. on her balcony. juju sat on the out-door couch, zara was draped over the railing like expensive curtains, bundles blowing in the LA summer breeze.
juju exhaled, head tilted back as she did so. "you miss me?"
the "fuck no." flew from zara's mouth before she could think about it.
she wouldn't think about how easy it was for her to lie. she wouldn't consider how far she would go to protect herself. there was a layer missing between them. a veil had been moved, a tide had turned and zara had the strongest feeling that she wasn't the only one who didn't want to figure out what that meant.
juju bit out a laugh. "bitch."
zara returned the laugh, equally as guarded, equally as destructive. "cry about it."
juju brought her head up in slow motion, an intentional space for zara to admire the lines of her throat, the way her chains rested on her clavicle.
"make me."
zara pushed off the balcony and made her way across the already small space of her balcony. she stopped just in front of juju's spread legs. she didn't do anything she wanted, like stepping further. dropping to her knees. climbing in juju's lap. pushing juju's tee up so she could see the dip in the middle of her ribs.
judea— untamed, drenched in gold, painful and stirring and conflicting all the way down to her cells.
she just leaned down so her face was inches from juju's. she was so close, she could see there was so little room between them. to breath, to think, to speak.
i'll let you take the light out of my eyes. decisions.
she stayed there only for a moment before she took the blunt from between juju's fingers and slid it between her lips.
she asked the same question, "you miss me?" and then took a hit.
juju waited until the smoke had completely left zara's mouth and then she said, "somethin like that."
"i don't know what's worse." zara started without fully knowing where she was finishing. "the fact that i look for wherever i do… or the fact that you're never looking for me."
"i'm lookin at you right now."
"you're always looking at me right now."
"don't know how to do anything else."
zara leaned in then, dropping the half-smoke blunt into the ashtray beside juju. they weren't ever really gonna smoke—at least zara wasn't. she'd known what was gonna go down the second juju opened her car door.
juju tasted like cherries and salt, and weed. starving craving, wanting.
zara loved this part.
she kissed juju and suddenly the silence around them erupted and a world of colors she hadn't known existed exploded before her shut eyes. every thought that was beginning to form was stripped down and replaced with this. her.
her lips pressing into zara's. her hands pulling her closer, running down her arm and back up to her jaw. the taste of her mouth and the heat of her breath.
a perfect world would always feel like this.
she climbed in juju's lap. decisions.
she fit the way she always did, because juju opened up for her the way she always did. she widened her hips and spread her legs even more, hands sliding to the tops of zara's thighs like they belonged there. she opened her mouth wider so zra could lick into her mouth and take even more.
and the source of all of zara's issues came flooding in. that repetitive give me give me give me started racing through her mind, forcing her to scoot closer so that there was not a single square inch of space between the two of them. chest to chest. belly to belly. mouth to mouth. she felt like she was in a microwave, hot and reactive. ready to burst and they hadn't even started yet.
her body rocked as juju thrusted her hips up, but she stayed rooted, grinding down because she was just as desperate.
her hands roamed as they went, moving from juju's ponytail to her throat then her jaw until she landed on her chest.
juju's nipples were so hard they poked through her bra and her shirt. the tiny humps in the fabric were enough for zara's mouth to start watering, and thought of them in her mouth was enough for her to start peeling juju's shirt off her body.
when she got it off, she was met with an almost sheer black bralette. one that contrasted the even sepia tint of juju's skin. one that zara wasn't interested in removing entirely.
she pushed a strap down juju's arm so the cup dipped and juju's breast peeked out. pink and taut and begging to be tended to.
she slid so that she was able to slip out of juju's lap directly down to the floor beneath them. on her knee's, she took the peak of juju's nipple between her four front teeth. the hiss she got was like jumper cables, sending a tremor of electricity down zara's jaw all the way to the base of her spine.
"i know you missed me." she said, releasing the bud before sucking it back in, swirling her tongue where she felt her teeth marks still dented.
"oh my god." juju moaned above zara's head. "more. please gimme more."
she felt a hand slide up her shoulder, around her neck to cup the back of her head. usually she'd brush the hand away. make a cute little joke about her being the one in charge, even if it went without saying. but tonight, she let it rest there. she let juju trace the tracks in her hair while she sucked at her tits because though this was as familiar as zara had ever felt, nothing about this was usual. nothing in the last hour had been something ordinary or predictable in juju and zara's situation.
even the rhythm of zara's heartbeat was faster than usual, picking up even more at juju's cracking voice begging for more.
who could turn away a wet dog?
she tugged at the button of juju's pants until it popped open and tapped her hip so she'd help in getting them off.
and when they were off, zara could almost taste juju's pussy from memory. she could remember what spot made her curl, what position made her open the widest, the pace that made her see stars.she knew it all, and that was on the list of things she was most proud of.
because here was this amazing woman— with enough accolades to shame an over achiever, and enough confidence to have you in a corner somewhere sucking your thumb— and she was damn near folding herself over… for zara. zara made that happened.
"tell me you missed me, ju."
she'd never asked for something like that, but she wanted it more than she'd ever wanted anything in her life. to hear the words. to feel like juju meant them.
she pressed a kiss to the center of juju's chest, then to the gap between her ribs. the skin above her bellybutton. below her bellybutton.
when she was almost face down in juju's lap, she looked up through her lashes and traced her tongue through juju's v-line. she was warm there, a little salty with sweat.
juju's eyes started to rolled to to the back of her head but she caught herself. there was no point though, she'd already snapped her hips forward and let that look take over her entire face.
zara gave juju's pussy a single kitten lick, not enough for a big reaction but juju's thighs twitched open anyway. her lower belly was going up and down with every in/exhale, her toes were already curled at zara's knees. she wanted— no needed this. she needed zara.
finally.
zara dove in, pushing juju's legs as wide as they could go before she eventually hiked them up, they weight of them pressing into her hands. she could feel juju's muscles as they tightened and released against her palms, but she wasn't even paying attention to that.
juju was consuming every sense she had. as infuriating as she was, juju was everything zara's ever wanted, and during sex, it was easier to pretend that there wasn't a giant wad of resentment between the two of them.
later, zara would see that she shouldn't have started pretending in the first place. she'd see that she should have left judea watkins where she was that night she was just so exhausted.
but in this moment, on her balcony with the wind dusting her skin, and juju destroying her resolve, she gave juju everything she had.
"zara." juju sat up on the couch, eyes wide like she was scared of what was gonna happen. good. "zara." still, zara kept going, licking juju's clit. she kept her eyes closed, focused on the pace she'd set, determined to get juju where she needed her. she ignored juju's fist in her hair, the shaking of her right leg, the strained sound of her gasping for air that was never gonna come. she stayed exactly where she was as until she got exactly what she wanted.
she was right there, zara could practically taste it. she could feel it in the way juju's clit twitched against her tongue. and just like she always did, juju's entire body untightened as she was about to cum. "zar— huuuh fuck,"
but the second her head hit the cushions, zara pulled away entirely, sitting back on her haunches. her eyes caught on to juju's pussy, pink and pulsing and leaking onto the couch. she needed zara so fucking bad.
"noooo," juju whined, pressing her thighs together. "no, don't do this. not tonight. please."
she kept her begging up, even while zara reached to pry her legs apart. she didn't put up much of a fight, not that she ever did.
"yes tonight." zara said, pushing her palm down on juju's clit. they met with wet slosh sound that made juju flinch and zara laugh. "you said you were just playing, right?"
juju shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut as she did it. she did her best to keep still, but she couldn't help the way her body jerked in zara's direction. and no one could really blame her. zara knew her, and even worse than that, zara knew how to work juju until she was totally debased from the version of herself they'd started with.
so really, she couldn't be held accountable for the way her pussy soaked in zara's fingers, or the way she lowered her hips she could take them deeper. because the situation was out of her control— or maybe it had never been in her control to begin with.
"right, so let's play."
i want you, even when you don't want me, i guess karma came around and brought a player to their knees.
zara's fingertips dug into the meat of juju's thighs as she held them open. she fucked into her with as much force as she could. she was tired— not as tired as juju, but tired nonetheless.
she'd fucked juju twice on the balcony. first with her mouth, and then with her fingers. on the living room floor she tasted her again before letting juju grind in her lap like a bitch in heat.
she hadn't let her cum throughout any of it.
some infinitesimal part of her felt bad watching juju shake and whine as she chased that feeling. but a colloassaly larger part of her felt so fucking good watching. holy fuck juju was so hot when she whined and moaned and begged.
every more and please only pushed zara to take it even further. to bite and slap and press into juju a little harder than she usually did. but juju wanted that. she always did.
by the time they made it zara's bedroom, juju's orgasm had been snatched from her four times and zara still hadn't been ready to give it to her. she was having fun with this control but more than that, she knew what she wanted. and she'd recieve what she wanted just like juju was.
so she kept fucking her— now with the strap— even when juju's legs tried to force themselves together. she was so wound up, pussy beat swollen and swallowing the strap as it pushed inside. she was warm all over and flushed across her face ad her chest and her lower belly. and her mouth was wide the fuck open, pink and wet, letting out breaths that didn't match the expression painted across her face.
zara had her laid the fuck out and it was so beautiful to her. juju was so beautiful to her with her sweated out edges and freckled breasts. zara was gone too, shiny with her own sweat and sticky where juju had left her mess. she was hot and wet and she had a point to prove.
she beat juju's pussy up, fucking her hard and long, hellbent on drawing out every sound juju's lungs could produce. and she was doing exactly that— juju had been crying out for her all night.
she kept juju's lets spread and pushed down on her toned belly. she felt juju's abs flutter under her touch before she felt a hand grip one of her hips as they moved. juju's nails gid into her skin, clawing at whatever she could.
she rolled her head to the side and opened her previously shut eyes. "you fuckin me so good, zara— god, it's so good."
she was so fucked out, eyes watered and low. her mouth was pouty, like she was about to cry. everytime the bed rocked, she let out a whimper that could only be described as meek. everything about juju's state was uncomposed and raw— form the way her toes curled into the sheets underneath her, to the way a dribble of spit had started to leak out of her open mouth.
fuuuuck she was drooling.
"did you miss me, ju?" zara asked, leaning down a little bit so she didn't need to be loud. she was right at juju's ear, kissing it gently as she waited for her answer.
"zara please." juju begged, back arching. zara felt her ribs open against her belly.
she still wasn't giving zara what she wanted—and that's not to say zara wasn't still enjoying herself. she was. thoroughly.
but she wanted more. she wanted to hear juju say it. she wanted to see her face, to watch her body language— she wanted all.
"i want you to tell me you missed me in this pussy." she said, thrusting a little harder, breathing a little heavier. "
she went and went and went and took juju along with her, until she could feel her heart about to explode in her chest. and just when she was about to accept defeat and move her hand to juju's clit, she heard a break in the cries beneath her.
"'s yours."
"whatchu say?"
"it's yours fuck it's yours." zara almost froze. "i missed you. the whole time i just missed you."
from shock or glee or whatever— zara almost stopped where she was so that she could reach her arms as high as they could and thank whoever the fuck as listening for this.
for the sound of juju's weak voice telling her she missed her. for the strength to wait it out of her. for the skills to drag it out of her.
she didn't, of course. she didn't stop, but her ryhthm changed— or better yet adjust to all the energy that hd just surged through her.
and then juju kind of disappeard inside herself. she disolved into the mattress right in front of zara, with a halt in her breathing and a fisting of the sheets. she came and cried and shook until everything else she might have wanted to say was floated around the room like embers burning off a page.
she was a blank canvas, satiated and tired and high. zara wanted more— she was a bit of a binge eater. but she knew juju was done, and that if she pushed for another round, the woman would say yes and then they'd never stop. so she just laid back against her pillow. it wasnt her side of the bed but she'd manage for now. juju would leave in a few hours, anyway.
except juju didnt leave that night. she didnt leave for another three days. zara recognized the pattern before it was ever really a pattern. she knew it would almost kill her, and that she'd never be able to go back to who she was, but she let it happen anyway. she stroked the fire until it inevitably burned her.
and later, when she was asked about her relationship with the great judea watkins, zara would say that there was no bad blood between them, and that sometime people just grew apart.
but in her mind, she knew she'd never grown apart, that juju would always own some minuscule part of her. she'd go home and let her headphones force her to remember the feeling….
we're in the bed again, both reeking of weed and wanting. god, i wanted you so bad that night, with your hand resting on the side on my ribcage, and the corner of my mouth brushing yours when i speak. all i feel is your hand at the inward curve of my back. i can almost feel your skin hot under mine, almost feel your stomach tighten when i push on your hip. i can hear you breathing, smell the twinge of your cologne burning through that tee. lungs wide, heart beating a loud against your ribs. judea— untamed, drenched in gold, painful and stirring and conflicting all the way down to your fucking cells.
🏷️ @kehlaniscript @thaatdigitaldiary @hcneymooners @summer3walker @geekddout @elleaitch22 @imsocoool @ariloveswbb @dwbimyob @bravemode @paigefudd @ztecj @numberonepartyanth3m @everyonewatchesuconnwbb @marinataylorsversion535 @blue0504
pretty girls shouldnt have knees they’re the bane of our existence
the thing that infuriates me most about the sophie cunningham of it all is how profoundly performative the league’s response has been.
they were perfectly willing to respond to the alleged “backlash” surrounding paige and angel’s wager, and to make jonquel apologize for comments that were removed from their context during an all-star weekend stream - comments that ultimately have no meaningful bearing on the future of the league or any substantive impact on anyone’s life. yet when people ask the league to address the blatant transphobia being expressed by a player they are paying millions of dollars, suddenly the response is, “this is a new expansion of the league.” that is not an answer.
and then there is the argument itself, which is what frustrates me most about people like sophie cunningham, because there seems to be an almost complete inability to step back and consider what they are actually advocating for.
in the context of the wnba, there are not young girls in these professional locker rooms. there are adult women. so when the argument is specifically being made about transgender women allegedly entering wnba locker rooms and harming young girls, what exactly are we talking about? the hypothetical being presented is not grounded in the reality of the league or its locker rooms.
but more importantly, i think people are deliberately missing the larger point when they invoke the alleged protection of women and children. the issue is not whether a transgender person could theoretically be present in a recreational environment where children are playing sports. obviously, transgender people exist in every part of society. the issue is that you are taking the threat of sexual violence—which is very real—and assigning that threat disproportionately to a population that is not responsible for the overwhelming majority of it.
the people perpetrating sexual violence against women and children are overwhelmingly cisgender, and disproportionately cisgender men. so if your stated concern is protecting women and girls from sexual violence, why are transgender people being positioned as the central threat? why are you constructing elaborate hypothetical scenarios around a population that represents such a small proportion of the world instead of addressing the people who actually perpetrate the violence you claim to be so concerned about?
that is where the fearmongering becomes so transparent to me. you’ve taken a real and horrifying problem—sexual violence against women and children—and attached it to a marginalized group that has already been culturally constructed as suspicious. suddenly the conversation is no longer about preventing sexual violence. it is about whether transgender people should be allowed to exist in every day life. and because the original justification was “protecting women and children,” anyone who questions that premise can then be accused of opposing their safety.
and the consequences of that rhetoric do not remain confined to transgender women. once you establish that “woman” is something that must be externally verified in order to determine who belongs in an environment, you inevitably create a system in which women themselves become subject to suspicion: women with masculine features, women with higher testosterone, women who simply do not look the way someone expects a woman to look. we have already seen female athletes questioned, investigated, humiliated, and subjected to invasive scrutiny because somebody decided they did not appear feminine enough.
that is the contradiction i cannot get past. you cannot claim that you are protecting women from sexual misconduct while advocating for systems that make women more vulnerable to having their bodies inspected, questioned, exposed, and policed. you cannot say you are protecting young girls while creating an environment in which the solution to a hypothetical threat becomes determining of who is sufficiently female to belong in a space. eventually, someone has to decide what qualifies as “female enough”. and once that happens, women who fail to satisfy somebody else's arbitrary standard of femininity become collateral damage.
we have already seen how quickly this logic can be applied to women who have never had anything to do with transgender politics at all. imane khelif is a particularly obvious example: a woman who became the subject of global speculation about her sex because she did not conform to someone's expectations of what a woman should look like. that is the problem with turning femininity into a qualification that other people are entitled to authenticate. eventually, the question will stop being “how do we protect women?” and will become “which women do we believe are really women?” and it already has.
if your concern is genuinely about sexual violence, then talk about sexual violence. talk about the people who commit it, talk about why women and children are so often harmed by those they already know and trust, talk about institutional failures that allow abuse to continue. but do not take a problem overwhelmingly perpetrated by cisgender people, particularly cisgender men, and use it as an excuse to portray transgender people as uniquely dangerous. that is not protecting women and children. in fact it’s doing quite the opposite.
case in fucking point.
lilly pillys are out!! corellas are well into them too!!
grace knox is six days older than me wtffffff
had our first national threat warning test !!! we are so doomed !!!!
rightttt
BEST SHOOTER IN THE LEAGUE FAWK OUTTA HERE
oh I need thatttt
well hello beautiful
never drinking wine again
haven’t even slept and i can already feel the headache im gonna wake up with i want to die
leave it to jack antonoff to ruin the only song i’ve used for my birthday since it came out
3°C morning 🕸️🌫️🌱🐇



