IN DESIRE WE TRUST
A Blythe/Dixie affair, you say? I got you!
Turns out we're not friends after all.
Well, that part was true.
Blythe wouldn't exactly call someone who had their tongue up her pussy a friend. She did it so well, too, and Blythe fucking hated that. Hated that Dixie's tongue knew how to work her up into a moaning, wet mess, how she had her panting as she rested her back against the desk and one of her legs wrapped around the singer's shoulder as she braced herself for another orgasm.
She hated that smug look she always gave her as she finished, because she knew that she had accomplished something her own husband always had struggled with.
"This wasn't what I came here for," Blythe insisted unnecessarily once she had gathered herself and straightened herself.
"And yet you still came." The smugness was evident in the way Dixie spoke, which only infuriated Blythe further. "You always come," the singer decided to add. It was extra ammunition. She always seemed to have it and make use of it, and always seemed to take pride in how it left Blythe huffing.
What was even more infuriating was that Dixie was right. Ever since she had learned about Blue joining the 113 as their newest cadet in training, Blythe always found a reason to come here, and right during her second time, after a verbal argument, adrenaline had taken over, and fingers had been buried deep inside each other.
It had since then become a thing. A revisit of the past, back from the days of separation when this infuriating woman had managed to seduce not only herself, but her husband as well, which she had later learned.
Never again had she promised herself back then. That promise had now been broken, and she was back at it, letting herself get reeled in, all pliant and willing in the moment and feeling shameful and dirty afterwards, while craving more, more and more. Her own body was betraying her, and she loved it as much as she hated it.
"This was the last time." She said it out loud, emphasizing the point to make it loud and clear for Dixie, who was leaning back against the part of the desk she had just been a short moment ago, her mug of tea most likely colder now as she had it cradled between her hands. Despite that, she blew away the non-existent steam out of habit.
"How is Don, by the way? I heard he's home from the hospital."
Another ammo, and this time it went straight to the guilty part of Blythe's brain.
"None of your concern. Leave him and our kids out of this, you hear me?"
She didn't wait for an answer, but turned on her heels to storm out of there for the last time.
---
"Fuckfuckfuckfuck!" The chants sounded like music to Blythe's ears, along with the moans mixed in as Dixie rocked her hips to ride Blythe's eager tongue a little bit more intensely than usual. Not that Blythe was complaining. It ignited her ego a bit, to know that even after all these years, she still had the skills to turn even this woman into a writhing mess. Knowing that she was close, Blythe gripped Dixie's thighs tightly, digging her nails into her skin the way she knew she liked, and replaced her tongue with two of her fingers to let her ride them out as she swiped her tongue over her core to send her right over the edge.
Fingers curled into her hair, giving her strands a firm tug as she came, and collapsed half over the desk. Blythe emerged, licking off the juice off of her fingers as Dixie watched, eyes dark and still in such a euphoric state and with a smile to match.
"You have no idea how much I needed that," she breathed out after a while, and Blythe didn't ask.
She had been able to tell since she had stepped into the office that she had been off edge, but hadn't asked then, either. It wasn't her business. She also didn't care.
She definitely didn't care.
She reached for her purse, getting ready to leave when a gentle grip of her arm tugged her right back into Dixie's space. "Leaving so soon? I haven't even returned the favor." Touch of lips ghosted over the skin of her neck, sending prickles all over her. Blythe doesn't move, but tilts her head up as Dixie trails her tongue slowly up her throat to allow herself to melt into pleasant feeling. When she feels Dixie licking herself into her mouth, she obliged and mirrored her action. It was enough to make her pulsate and ache for more, and soon enough, she was riding Dixie's fingers as she stood between the other's thighs where she was sitting on top of the desk. There were more mouth on her this time, something they would usually skip, but made the experience so much better when the climax hit, just as Dixie was biting into her skin.
She came with a soft, shuddering gasp and relishes in the afterglow, even as Dixie pulls her into a long, deep kiss that she immediately melts into. Momentarily. Because this is also new, and all too familiar with the past, so she pushes herself away harshly.
"What do you think you're doing?"
Dixie looked a bit taken aback for a moment and let out a scoff. "It's called a kiss, honey. We've done it before."
"During. Not after. Never after. This isn't— we're not—"
"I didn't realize there were rules." The cold tone was back. The real Dixie, the real reminder.
Dixie abides to the unwritten rules the next time, and the time after that. They met. They got each other off, and it was the same old song on repeat. It was quick, easy, pleasant and uncomplicated, because words weren't needed and they both got fantastic orgasms out of it.
"This isn't like before," Blythe reminded her, straightened her skirt, and then stormed off before she could see the look on Dixie's face.
---
Then it changes. Little by little. Dixie has gotten tired of their meetings always happening inside the office, so they start meeting up at a hotel. Things remains pretty much the same, except there's a bed, and they shed more clothing and they explore their bodies in a way they hadn't been able to before when the possibility of getting caught had been inevitable.
Blythe stays longer, too. Doesn't deny Dixie when she offers her a drink from the mini-bar. They drink, they fuck again and enjoy the afterglow together with more drinks.
Those were moments just for them, and it's become more and more addictive to indulge in it. Rules became forgotten, eventually.
"I'll never forget our first time," Dixie mentioned one day, as they're sprawled out on their backs under the cover of the soft hotel bed. "Under the stars. It was…"
"I remember the mosquito bites right after," Blythe mused, and Dixie huffed out a laugh.
"Didn't stop you from being so passionate."
"Never heard you complain."
"Had no reason to." Dixie propped herself up on her elbow, looking down at Blythe as her fingers trailed gently over the skin of her arm. "You gave me my first real orgasm that night. I don't think I ever told you."
Blythe's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Nuh-uh. No way. You were… quite promiscuous. I remember there were plenty—"
"I was. There were. But try as they might, they never succeeded with what you did. You blew me away, hot-shot. Rode me well and good and changed my perspective on what good sex really is about."
"Huh."
"Few have succeeded since then," Dixie carried on. "It's a rarity, these days. Maybe it's me. Maybe it's my body. I don't know what the fuck it is, but I can barely get there on my own. You make it seem effortless. Take that with a stride. That's something you can be proud of."
She was. She did feel proud over the fact, but there was something else, too. Something raw and real digging inside her chest, itching to get out, something that's been wanting out for so long. It took one glance of Dixie looking up at her with earnest, and Blythe breaks her own rule and kisses her, and they make a repeat of that night. Naked body sliding against each other, mouths and hands exploring as they bring each other to orgasm again and again. It's different. Things have shifted, and things had gotten deeper without them realizing it.
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