light, catch, burn ch. 3
ac^2, ao3.
“You’ll never prove it,” Alex says, turning, holding a candle in each hand.
Her place really is close, if not exactly around the corner. No matter what, it doesn’t take very long to walk there-- they hustle in the chilly, windy, wet, street-lit night. A lot of windows still glow yellow. She and Abbie walk about shoulder to shoulder. She feels fizzy anticipation in her stomach. While crossing the street, a bike with logo-emblazoned insulated panniers splashes some puddle water onto her shoes and tights. She shivers.
Abbie stops on the corresponding corner, loosens her scarf, then drapes it on Alex’s neck. She holds and pulls her in by it, kisses her quickly. Alex doesn’t blush easily, but this makes her cheeks burn. She hopes the night covers the majority of it, but knows her smile is revealing. It’s probably okay if she knows how she feels.
“It’s that one,” she says, pointing out the townhouse in the middle of the block. Abbie looks a bit taken aback, which Alex understands. She justifies, with a truth that slightly hides the full picture:“It’s my aunt and uncle’s place. They spend most of their time in Greenwich since my aunt retired.”
She suppresses a yawn. The coffee was a mere pretext, but it’s starting to look more like a necessity as they walk up the steps, as she unlocks the door. She flicks on the foyer light and hangs her coat, then takes Abbie’s. She hasn’t tidied in a couple days-- her shoe rack is more of a shoe pile, her mail is splayed out on an end table. Abbie follows her to her bare kitchen.
“I see you’re quite the cook,” Abbie jokes, eyeing a set of Le Creuset ramekins her mother bought for her that are still in the box on her counter. Alex laughs, getting her Moka pot out of its deep drawer.
“Those were more of a hint than a present,” she says. “I promise, I make good coffee.” She dumps some grounds into the chamber, then water into the reservoir, then sets it on the stove.
---
Abbie could go without the caffeine, but Alex seems to want it; and who would she be to deny her that. From walking past the conversation pit in the living room, she can tell the house was decorated in the 70s. Alex’s aunt and uncle have good taste, though; there’s lots of art on the walls that looks to be original. You wouldn’t know Alex lived here if not for the present clutter, law books and novels on the same tables, the scented candles she’d mentioned the first time they spoke. Abbie doesn’t blame her for not putting much of her own mark on the place, it’s nice how it is.
When the coffee maker starts to quietly hiss, Alex lifts its lid with a soft clattering, checking on it. Abbie hasn’t used one like it herself. It strikes her as very European. She imagines it was designed not for a big mug like you would drink in the morning, but for the small, thin-walled cups you might use at a dinner party to serve coffee after dessert. Alex gets two cups just like the ones she’s imagining down from a high cabinet. They’re cute little things, one orange, one teal. Abbie tries not to think about how late it must be by now, midnight at least. Where’s the harm in one sleepless night? Alex clinks their cups together before taking a pulling sip. She makes eye contact over the cup and swallows. Abbie admires her neck, her shoulders. She drinks her own coffee. It’s strong, but it doesn’t need milk or sugar.
When the small portions are gone, Alex takes Abbie’s cup out of her hand and places it next to her own on the counter beside the sink. She rests invitingly against the counter behind her, pushes her hair out of her eyes. Abbie closes the small distance between them with a careful and deliberate kiss, her hands drawing her in by the waist again. She likes it when Alex leans into her with a hand on her shoulder. A small shift as the kiss gets more intense, Abbie moves one of her thighs and pushes Alex’s legs ever-so-slightly apart. The little gasp is musical. She takes it as an opportunity; her tongue agilely and easily coming between Alex’s parted lips.
---
She knows it already, from the tastes she’s had before: she’s a great kisser. It’s not so much that she has any special technique, though her prowess is undeniable. It’s that, though she leads, Abbie is listening to Alex’s cues, her sounds, her movements. She likes to be paid attention to. She’s the one to guide Abbie’s free hand up to her chest, and enjoys the smile she feels on her mouth as she starts to touch her expertly. Alex moves her hips against her thigh without really thinking about it. She notices that she’s starting to want, and want more.
She supposes that means she’ll need to be the one to move them anywhere. It is her house. While she is completely content here, doing this, she’d also like to get out of the wet tights. She’d like to get out of the rest of her clothes. Abbie does the chasing, for once, when she separates their lips to speak.
“We could go somewhere more,” she says, “comfortable.”
Abbie hums. She holds Alex’s hands and replies, “great idea.”
Alex’s steps down the hallway are purposeful, but slow enough that she doesn’t slip on the hardwood. She stops, leaning sideways, in the doorway. Abbie takes her hint, grasping her hips, then ribs with open palms. She noses Alex’s hair away from her neck and kisses her there. Alex lets herself make a moaning sigh, leaning her head back.
She steps into the bedroom, her body tingling where she misses the touch. She lights the lamp on her nightstand with a click. There are two candles on her dresser, so she asks, “Jasmine or Bergamot?” lifting one of the three lighters that live there.
Abbie makes a sound of amusement. “You had a lighter the whole time,” she says.
“You’ll never prove it,” Alex says, turning, holding a candle in each hand.
“Bergamot,” Abbie chooses-- though she doesn’t seem to care one way or another-- clearly holding back a laugh. Alex lights the candle, laughing back lightly. She sets it down again. The kiss that follows picks up where they left off in the kitchen, and grows yet more passionate quickly.
---
The red dress is starting to offend Abbie. She kisses Alex’s neck again, but stops her from sitting on the bed with gripping hands on her ass. It elicits a surprised mmph that she would like to hear again. When Alex is solidly back on her feet, Abbie touches the straps of the dress, and doesn’t have to say what she wants.
Alex turns around, and is breathing heavily when she requests, “do the honors.” Abbie does, but not before she kisses her right shoulder. As she undoes the hook and eye at the top, then the zipper, she enjoys the sight of Alex’s braless back, and the way she subtly arches, another thing that makes her want a replay. Alex doesn’t delay further, slipping the dress off her shoulders in a few smooth movements, then stepping out of her tights.
“You’re prepared,” Abbie says at the sight. Alex is wearing a pair of lace panties that suggest she thought tonight might end here. She nods, placing her hands on her hips.
“Always.”
“Good,” Abbie says, thinking about her own undergarments, which are less exciting. Abbie steps forward, so Alex has nowhere to go but down, bending her knees to sit. She leans back onto her hands, then she slides all the way onto the bed with her back against her headboard. Abbie really feels overdressed now. Hers just slips over her head, leaving her in a dark brown bra and a pair of printed boyshort-style underwear.
“Are those,” Alex squints, “raspberries?”
Abbie looks down. “Currants, I think.”
“How chic,” Alex teases.
“You like what you see?” Abbie plays back.
“Mhm,” Alex says, and appears to be growing impatient, looks expectant. Abbie obliges, joining her. She sits on her heels beside her for a second, holding her cheek as she kisses her lips, her neck. When Alex starts to squirm, she moves, straddling her.
She’s gathering, as she learns, as she experiments, Alex appears to prefer firm over soft touch. Her ghosting strokes earn responses, but not like the emphatic ones she gets when squeezes the slight flesh of her thighs, when she sucks a mark just above her collarbone.
---
She’s close to demanding more when Abbie gives it to her. Her mouth travels, from her neck to her nipples. She’s glad, Abbie has picked up on how she likes it-- unrestrained, but just shy of rough. Her controlled tongue circles and her lips wrap. It’s hot to feel, and it’s hotter when Alex watches her with open eyes. It’s very hot when Abbie’s gaze meets her own, her eyes somehow even darker. She’s so wet she can feel it on her thighs.
Abbie’s lips are kissed red around her words: “How do you want me?” She rasps.
Alex doesn’t have to think about that one. She takes Abbie’s hand in hers and brings it to her cunt. They both moan.
---
After she comes, and comes again, Alex looks beautifully worn out as she stretches and rolls her neck out. Abbie starts moving, her legs over the side of the bed; but Alex stops her from standing with a quiet sound and a hand that squeezes hers.
“It’s late,” Abbie says, but there’s not much insistence to it.
“I know.” Alex reaches opens a drawer in her nightstand. Abbie watches her shuffle through its contents, there’s some change, a packet of tissues, what appears to be a vibrator, and what her fingers wrap around-- an altoids tin. She sets it on the table. Abbie might enjoy a mint, but when Alex opens it, she sees it is full of tobacco. Another tin comes out, this one with papers and filters. She finally gets out a rolling tray, an ashtray and yet another lighter. Abbie watches her as she rolls two with an efficiency that has to come from extensive experience. She hands one to Abbie, lights it, then her own.
“Terrible habit, cigarettes in bed.”
“I’ve done worse,” Alex grins.