@katharined Thanks for the request! Coming at you with some... very long Amerileste smut.
Rated M for sexual situations
The situation was regrettable at best.
America Singer wasn’t actually certain exactly how it happened, but this much she knew: This was not the smartest decision she’s made in her life. Why, you ask? No, it wasn’t because Maxon’s choice was drawing closer and closer. It wasn’t because she still had feelings for Aspen. It wasn’t even because Clarkson Schreave absolutely hated her guts. No, that was all too simple.
It was because she was naked next to none other than her worst enemy Celeste Newsome.
Well, worst wasn’t exactly the word she’d use anymore. Not since that day in the library where everything seemed to change. Well, yesterday actually. So much was different in a matter of hours.
It wasn’t that America couldn’t remember — It was quite easy to, actually. It was the fact that she wasn’t sure she wanted to.
There was yelling in the beginning, that much she knew. Celeste telling her America got everything she wanted. A quiet conversation. Crying. And then there they had been walking down the halls, whispering when they passed by the other girls’ rooms. Promises of a sleepover where they could talk further.
It started out innocently enough. There were blanks strewn across the floor and a secret stash of chocolates that were swapped back and forth. There were a few giggles about Maxon and an agreement for their mutual dislike of Kriss. Tears had fallen down America’s cheeks when she finally, finally told someone about Aspen, and Celeste hadn’t judged her like she originally thought. She had only said one thing:
“That prick doesn’t deserve you, America.”
They stared at each other for a few moments before Celeste’s hand cupped America’s cheek, swiping a thumb over her bottom lip. The movement was gentle and made America’s heart beat. They both leaned forward until their noses were just shy of touching.
“America,” Celeste whispered, staring down at the other’s lips.
Their eyes met after a moment. “Celeste,” America said.
Celeste’s lips were soft — that’s the first thing she noticed. Softer than Maxon’s, softer than Aspen’s, and there was the stain of her lipstick that stuck onto every area they touched. America’s hands delved into her hair, twisting into her loose curls as Celeste did the same to her.
America knew Celeste was a good kisser. It was obvious when men would absolutely come undone at her touch. She could see why now. Celeste’s lips moved expertly against hers, a perfect amount of tongue, something Maxon had yet to master. He always used too much, leading to a lot of uncomfortable spit, but America never had the heart to tell him.
Celeste was the first to pull away, staring at America and trailing her eyes down her body. They were both silent and breathless, the only sounds in the room their chests heaving up and down. A blush coated America’s cheeks before moving closer to Celeste and reinitiating the kiss, rougher this time, and straddling her.
Celeste sensed the change of atmosphere and added teeth into their routine of lips and tongue, choosing to nip lightly at America’s mouth before moving to her neck. America gasped as Celeste trailed kisses down her throat, leaving teeth marks that would surely turn into hickies the next day.
America closed her eyes, trying to relish the feelings of Celeste’s lips on her neck. She and Maxon had made out before, sure, but there was a refined skill in this, something he probably hadn’t had the experience to achieve. But Celeste wasn’t inexperienced. Hell, Celeste probably wasn’t a virgin. She already had a ridiculous amount of both men and women falling at her feet for a chance to visit her bed.
Celeste’s hands gripped her ass, pulling her closer against her as America arched her back, allowing Celeste greater access to her chest. Slowly, Celeste’s hands crept up to the back of America’s dress and began to work on the buttons. The dress slid down her shoulders and pooled at America’s waist.
Celeste made a noise that was somewhere between a gasp and a whimper when America pulled away and stood up from the floor. Celeste followed her, hands settling at her hips, face flushed, and hair mussed.
“What do you want from me?” America asked, her face almost as red as her hair. She was thankful for the dim lights.
Celeste stared down at America, stepping away to see her fully. “What do you mean?”
“W-Why are you doing this? You hate me for God’s sake!” She worked to keep her voice low.
Celeste let out a laugh. “Come on, America, do I really look straight to you?” America quirked a smile. She really hadn’t, honestly.
Celeste pulled her closer and pressed her lips against her neck. “Let me show you how un-straight I am,” she mumbled into her ear. She finished unbuttoning America’s dress and let it it drop to her feet before trailing her fingers down America’s body.
America shivered against Celeste’s touch. A blush coated her cheeks even though she was still covered by her bra and underwear, but there was something terrifying about being seen by a woman who has the perfect body. Celeste stared at her, a softness in her eyes, before turning around and taking America’s hand setting it on the buttons of her own dress.
America trailed a hand down Celeste’s back, settling at the curve of her ass and then moving back up again. America began unbuttoning it, slowly revealing more of her dark skin that contrasted with the red lingerie she wore underneath. It fell down her legs when it was completely unbuttoned, and Celeste leaned further against her.
America hesitated on Celeste’s bra clasp, her heart panging against her chest. There was a voice in her mind, a voice that told her to leave, that this wasn’t a good idea, but she couldn’t bring herself to stop. Swallowing the lump in her throat, America unclasped Celeste’s bra and pulled it off.
They faced each other, and America tried her best not to lower her gaze, but it became harder when Celeste stepped closer. She took America’s hands and set them on her red panties if you could call them that. They were small and slinky, leaving little to the imagination. America hooked her fingers around them before pulling them down to the floor.
Their eyes met again, but this time Celeste gently turned America around, pressing against her back. America stiffened against Celeste’s touch, a familiar heat rushing in her. One she only felt with Aspen and Maxon. One that could make her lose control of everything.
Celeste’s hands rested on her hip as she pressed kisses down her neck. She played with her bra straps, gently pushing them off her shoulders while her tongue moved against her neck.
Celeste was going so slow. For her sake, probably, but it was becoming hard to ignore the ache between her legs. She wanted — no, needed — to be touched.
America gasped when her bra came off, her nipples hardening against the air. She let out a small whimper as Celeste trailed her fingers down to the band of her underwear. Unlike Celeste, America chose something with a lot more coverage for undergarments. They weren’t fancy or lacy, but they were coming off anyway, so none of that mattered. Her panties fell to the floor.
America stepped away. This time she allowed her eyes to wander. Celeste’s body was perfect. While America was skinny from years of food rationing and not eating at all to give Aspen food, Celeste was well-fed, evident in the way her hips and thighs stuck out, giving her curves that every girl in Illéa would want. There was no wonder she was a model.
Celeste stepped toward America, cupping her cheek before moving her thumb down to run across her nipple. America let out a whimper as she did so, unconsciously moving forward and pressing her hips against Celeste’s thigh.
“More, please,” America mumbled as Celeste’s hands kneaded her breasts.
Celeste backed her toward the bed, and America obliged easily, climbing toward the middle of the bed and lying still as Celeste straddled her. America had expected her to continue touching her, but instead she replaced her hands with her mouth.
She sucked gently on her nipple, only going harder when America let out a moan. Her mouth was hot against her sensitive skin, setting a contrast to the cool air that prickled her skin. She switched breasts, doing the same as the other one, but this time trailing one hand lower at the same time.
“Celeste!” America gasped as quietly as she could with the contact. Celeste moved away from her breasts and trailed her tongue down her stomach, stopping at her navel.
“Tell me what you want me to do.” She touched her inner thigh lightly, teasing in a way that made America want to moan.
“Touch me,” America gasped out, rubbing her thighs together.
Celeste smirked, resting her chin between America’s legs. “Ask nicely.”
“P-Please, touch me, Celeste.” America closed her eyes and opened her legs, something her mother always advised her against.
Celeste trailed a finger down from her stomach to her slit, which made both of them gasp. “You’re so wet, America.” Celeste did it again, sliding her finger through America’s slit and then pulling it out to inspect it. After a moment, she brought the fingers to her mouth and licked her wetness off them.
“You taste so good,” Celeste said. “Salty and sweet.”
America whimpered. “Celeste, please.”
“Fine.” Celeste moved her finger through her slit again, slowly rubbing circles downward until she reached her opening. She slid a finger inside her, moving slowly as America started gasping. She added a second finger, but she was still tight, making it harder to move faster.
“Are you still a virgin?” Celeste asked America, whose eyes shot open, a blush spreading across her face and chest.
“Y-Yeah.”
“So you’ve… never been touched like this?”
America swallowed. She hadn’t been touched there, but there had been a few times with Aspen she’d been pretty damn close. “N-No.”
Celeste nodded before returning to her task, sliding two finger back inside America. As she relaxed, she began picking up speed and thrusting her fingers harder. She added another finger, allowing America to loosen again before thrusting inside her. America gripped the sheets, spreading her legs wider as Celeste kept building up speed until she was practically pounding into her.
“Celeste! K-Keep going!” America’s hand went to her slit and started rubbing herself haphazardly. Her eyes fluttered closed as pleasure built up inside her. All it took was one final thrust before America reached her peak and gripped the sheets as pleasure moved through her.
After a few moments, she lay there, gasping. Celeste smiled and climbed up America, pressing a kiss against her cheek. “Goodnight.”
America furrowed her eyebrows. “What about you?”
“Don’t worry about me.”
America shook her and flipped them over, despite how exhausted she was. She settled her hands on Celeste’s thighs, spreading them open. Just like Celeste did to her, she slid a finger through her slit and was surprised at how wet she was. She brought the finger to her lips and tasted it. It was salty like Celeste said and there was a sourness to it, but it didn’t taste bad. In fact —
America kissed Celeste’s entrance, licking her slit gently. She was pleased with the noise Celeste gave her, so she continued to do it several times before sliding her tongue inside her entrance. Fingers twisted into her hair, tugging gently as she whimpered.
“America, keep going, please.” Celeste’s voice was raspy and hushed.
She kept going, letting out a hot breath and using the tip of her tongue to rub Celeste’s clit. She grasped the sheets and let out a moan. Encouraged, America went faster, stimulating her clit faster and harder with every second that passed. Right when she thought Celeste was going to cum, Celeste bucked and hit America in the nose.
“Jesus!” she swore, leaning back. “That’s… not how I thought orgasm would be like.”
Celeste laughed and leaned up to set her fingers on her shoulders. “Are you okay?”
America checked for blood and after finding none, smiled. “Y-Yeah. Sorry.” She crawled into Celeste’s lap and pushed her hair back. “Do you want to try again?”
“Maybe tomorrow,” she replied, pressing her lips to America’s neck. “I’m tired. Can we sleep?”
“Give me a minute.” She got up and headed to the bathroom. America knew that peeing after sex with men was important, but she wasn’t sure if it applied to girls as well. Better safe than sorry, right?
After she got done washing her hands, she stood in front of the mirror, just staring. She didn’t look any different, didn’t feel any different really. Sex wasn’t this defining trait, after all, but there was a part of her that felt like she had achieved something.
But even worse, there was this feeling of misery. She had cheated on Maxon with another Selected, let someone else see her naked and touch her and take her virginity. America wasn’t sure if she should feel more ashamed of the cheating in the first place or wanting desperately to do it again.
They didn’t do it again that morning. After Celeste got dressed, they lay together, not touching, not speaking, just staring up at the ceiling.
Yeah, the situation was regrettable, but wasn’t she entitled to some regret?
“Hey, America?” Celeste said.
“Hm?”
“So the curtains do match the drapes, huh?”
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