☆ Summary: You get extremely clingy during your period, and that's very unlike you.
☆ Word count: 2.5k
☆ Warnings: mentions of period, pain, blood and blondes. beware.
You were not a clingy person, and neither was Leah. That was one of the things that made your relationship work so incredibly well: you both valued your independence, your own space, your ability to exist comfortably in silence without constantly needing reassurance or physical contact.
Leah could spend hours reviewing match footage while you read beside her, both content in your separate bubbles, but still knowing the other was there if needed.
But Leah was also stupidly observant. Especially when it came to you, which is why she knew – well before you did – when your period was approaching.
It was mostly your fault; you were not exactly clued up on your own cycle, you didn't even use any apps to track it, it just sort of happened when it wanted, and you dealt with it.
It started on a cold Monday evening in the middle of January.
You had been completely fine all day, going about your normal routine, right up until Leah came home from training. The moment she walked through the door, dropping her kit bag by the entrance, you felt it. That inexplicable, sudden need to be near her.
It was like a penny had finally dropped in your head. Missing people wasn't really something you usually felt; you couldn't understand why. It was just how you were rewired, but today was different; today, you realised, you had missed Leah deeply while she was away.
"Hi, darling," the Arsenal captain called out, toeing off her shoes and smiling at you lazily. "Do you fancy ordering take–"
You appeared around the corner almost immediately, and before she could even fully straighten up, you were there, wrapping your arms tight around her middle and burying your face in her neck. You felt the way Leah froze for just half a second, not because she didn't want the contact, of course not, but simply because it was so unusual coming from you.
"Oh, well... hello to you too," she said, a smile creeping into her voice as her hands came up to rest on your back. "Missed me a bit, then?"
"Mhm," you hummed against her skin, not letting go. If anything, you held her tighter. "Don't you ever disappear like that again."
"Disappear?" she chucked. "I was only gone for a few hours, love. To the same exact place I go every single day--?"
You pulled back just enough to make a grumpy face at her. "Well, obviously, I know that."
Leah's smile only grew at your crankiness. She didn't say anything out loud, but she filed the information away into that corner of her brain where she kept the important stuff: clingy phase = period incoming.
By Wednesday, you were fully in clingy, smothering, borderline-suffocation mode. You were following Leah from room to room like a lost puppy, ignoring the fact that you were a grown adult with friends to meet, a mother to call, and piles of graduate school assignments to get through. Every single bit of brainpower you possessed was entirely dedicated to kissing Leah, hugging Leah, watching a film with Leah, loving on Leah, making love with Leah.
Leah. Leah Leah.
Ugh!
Honestly, even you were starting to feel a bit sick of yourself. The only accurate comparison you could come up with was that of a piece of chewing gum stuck to the sole of a shoe; no matter how much you tried to scrape it off on the pavement, it wasn't budging. Luckily, Leah was not really trying to scrape you off just yet, but you knew she might start soon if you didn't get your act together.
The whole "get your act together" mindset lasted for about two (whole!) minutes.
When Leah sat down at the table to sort through some publicity emails, you immediately draped yourself across the arm of her chair, like a cat looking for a warm spot to nap.
And, hours later, when she was standing at the kitchen counter, making dinner, you were right there behind her. Your arms were wrapped around her waist, your chin hooked over her shoulder, and your lips were casually pampering the skin of her throat with wet kisses because you literally couldn't help yourself. It was an animalistic instinct.
That was it. You were turning into a wild animal. You missed your humanity already.
"Hi," she chuckled, tilting her head to the side to catch your lips in a (way too brief) peck. "You hungry?"
"No."
She just hummed, turning back to the chopping board. Leah did not like vegetables; she had only really started eating them more regularly after you two got together. Now, she usually prepared them without you having to ask, which was a big upgrade from the fights you used to have with her about it.
You nuzzled the spot behind her ear, breathing in the scent of her citrus body wash and the plain, unscented shampoo she insisted on using, even though you had bought her a strawberry-scented one that was honestly amazing.
Leah's hands went still over the cutting when your warm tongue slipped past your lips to lick a very small trail down her carotid.
"Babe, I need to chop the carrots," Leah said. She hadn't said it unkindly, but to your hormonal ears, it sounded like she hated you and wanted you banished from the north London flat immediately.
Your face dropped into a pout. "I'm not stopping you, am I?"
"You kind of are," she said. "The kissing is a bit distracting."
"That's your fault, though," you muttered against her shoulder. "I'm kissing because I want to love on you, not to distract you… maybe you should just try and focus harder."
Leah snorted, but didn't push you away. She had the patience of a saint (most of the time), but even she had limits, and you were currently testing them today. You knew she hated cooking, but she was doing it because you had been completely miserable and useless all afternoon.
Deep down, there was something about the way you looked at her during these few days, all soft eyes and not-so-quiet need, that made it impossible for her to be actually annoyed. Well, maybe she was 30% annoyed.
Later that evening, you padded into the living room where Leah was sprawled on the sofa, engrossed in a match you absolutely had no interest in.
"Leah?"
She glanced up. You were standing there in one of her classic arsenal hoodies, which she bought for a ridiculous price. Your hands were tucked into the sleeves because you were absolutely freezing. Was she not? How was she just sitting there in a t-shirt?
"Yeah, darling?"
"I want to cuddle" Your voice came out smaller than intended, almost shy. Because you weren't like this. Usually, you were just as chill and cool as she was, perfectly fine on your own.
She didn't even hesitate, she opened her arms and shifted her legs to make room for you "Come here then. Snuggle up."
You basically melted into her, crawling onto the sofa and curling right against her chest. Leah's arms wrapped around you. She pressed a kiss to the top of your hair and let her chin sit there as she turned her attention back to the football match.
For a few minutes, the only sound you could hear was from the tv. It wasn't enough. You didn't want her focusing entirely on the game. You wanted her entire attention to be on you. You reached up with one hand and your finger hooked gently under Leah's jaw, tilted her face away from the telly so she had no choice but to look down at you.
"Hi," you murmured.
A slow smirk crept onto her face. "Hi, my darling."
"Look at me."
"I am looking at you," she chucked, her thumb coming up to trace your cheekbone. "You are awfully, awfully, clingy these last few days, did you know that?"
You instantly dropped your forehead against her shoulder with a dramatic groan, your voice muffled by her shirt. "I know. I hate it. I'm being so… sweet, it's properly nauseating, isn't it?"
Leah laughed softly. She threw her arms around you and squeezed you against her. "Oh, it's absolutely sickening, love. Proper disgusting behaviour from you."
"Shut up," you muttered, though you didn't move a centimetre; instead, you buried yourself in her warmth.
"I'm not complaining," she murmured, her tone softening. "It's quite nice actually… I think I might keep you like this."
Thursday morning came, and you woke up to those all-too-familiar cramps. Your thought process was slow to catch up, but realisation eventually sank in…
Oh, brilliant, fucking brilliant. Here we go again.
You lay very still for a moment, assessing the damage. The cramps weren't terrible yet, but they were there, and it was enough to make you whiny and a bit prickly.
You felt vaguely gross, uncomfortable in your own skin, and the last thing you wanted was to be touched. Which was unfortunate, because Leah was currently spooning you, her arm slung over your waist.
You carefully extracted yourself from her hold, trying not to be too aggressive about it, and shuffled to the bathroom. When you returned, Leah was awake, propped up on one elbow with her blonde hair a complete mess, looking at you with sleepy concern.
"What's up? It's so early," she murmured, her voice scratchy with sleep. "You alright?"
"Of course I'm not alright," you said flatly, climbing back into bed but staying on your side. "My stupid period started."
"Oh." Leah's expression shifted to one of understanding. "Right. Did you bleed through the sheets? Want me to get up and change them?"
You stared at her deadpan. "Leah, if I had bled through the sheet, do you honestly think I would come back into the room and just lie down on them?"
Leah shrugged, cleaning sleep from her face. "I don't know. I was just checking… sorry. Do you need anything? Maybe some medicine? A hot water bottle? I can nit to the shop and-"
"I'm fine," you grumbled. "I'm just gonna stay in bed and feel sorry for myself."
There was a pause, and Leah watched you for a second too long, trying to understand your mood. "... Alright, whatever you want, darling."
Out of habit, Leah reached to pull you closer, her hand moving toward your hip. You flinched away, scooting toward the edge of the bed.
Leah blinked, her hand still mid-air. "What-"
"Stop it!" you said, rolling your eyes. "Don't."
"Don't? Don't what?! Don't touch you?"
"Yes."
Leah sat up fully now, frowning. "But you've been obsessed with cuddling for days. You've been practically glued to me since Monday."
"Well, yeah, and now I feel gross," you muttered, pulling the duvet up higher, hiding your face and body. "So if you could keep quiet, please. You are giving me a headache from all the talking."
"Oh come off it! You don't look gross," she said, and there was a tiny hint of impatience in her voice. Leah was many, many things, but she wasn't really a coddler.
"I said I feel gross, not that I am gross. There's a difference," you snapped. "Not my fault if you don't understand the meaning of words."
Leah stared at you for a long moment, clearly trying to process the whiplash. Two days ago, you were literally licking her neck while she was trying to cook, now you were acting like she had the bubonic plague."
"Right," she said slowly, a dry but amused smile tugging at her lips. "So let me get this straight. You have been extra clingy all week, which I quite enjoyed, by the way, and now that you are actually in a bit of pain, you want me on the other side of the room?
You nodded stubbornly.
"That makes zero sense, mate!"
"It makes perfect sense to me."
"It really doesn't," she countered, leaning back against the headboard. "It's also a bit daft, don't you think?"
You groaned, rolling over to face away from her. "Leah, I just… I don't want to be touched right now, okay? I feel disgusting and crampy and bloated and–"
"Okay, stop with the dramatics," Leah interrupted, her tone fond but firm. "Come here."
"Williamson. I'm serious."
"I'm serious too. Come here."
When you didn't move, she sighed and shifted closer, wrapping her arms around you from behind despite your half-hearted protest.
"You're not gross, you idiot," she muttered, her lips brushing the back of your neck. "And I don't care if you're on your period or cramping or bloated or whatever. I just want to hold you, so stop being weird."
"Leah–"
"Nope! You've been acting like my shadow for three days, and now that you're actually feeling rubbish, you think I'm just gonna leave you alone? Absolutely not."
You felt your resolve crumbling. Her warmth was seeping into your back, and despite your best efforts to remain stubborn, it did feel nice.
"I'm being annoying, and I'll be worse throughout the day," you warned her. "Just so you know."
Leah huffed a quiet laugh against your shoulder. "Babe, you're always a little bit annoying. I'm used to it."
You tried to elbow her lightly, but she caught your arm, pulling you back against her chest. "Oh, you are such a charmer, Williamson."
"I'm serious, though," she continued, softer now. "I know you feel like crap, and I know your brain goes into isolation mode when you're hurting, but I'm not going anywhere. So you can either let me hold you willingly, or I'm just gonna be annoyingly persistent until you give in. Your choice.
You let out a groan. "...You're really okay with this?"
"I'm more than okay with this. Now stop overthinking and let me be a good girlfriend, yeah?"
You finally let your muscles relax back into her, and Leah tightened her hold just a little, pressing another kiss to your shoulder. "There we go," she murmured, sounding too smug. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"
"It was properly agonising."
"You are so dramatic," she chucked, her breath warm against your skin. "Do you want me to grab the hot water bottle?"
"...That would be nice, yeah."
"Thought so." She let go and slipped out of bed, returning a few minutes later with a hot water bottle wrapped around a fluffy pink towel and painkillers. You took them gratefully, clutching the hot bottle tightly against your lower abdomen.
She climbed back in, immediately pulling you right against her chest
"Better?" she asked.
"Yes," you admitted, closing your eyes. " Way better."
"Good."
You expected her to reach for the remote or mention the tv, but the flat was completely silent. Leah's breathing was already slowing down, her hand resting over yours on the hot water bottle.
"Not watching anything?" you asked. "You always watch something in the morning."
"No," she mumbled, her voice filled with sleep. "I'm too tired, and it's too early. Just close your eyes, and I'll close mine."
You couldn't help but smile. You let the warmth of her body envelop you as you both fell right back to sleep.
☆ A/n: oh no ! shocker! Another wosospacegirl period fic :o more is coming.
I was ✨️depressed ✨️ I-lost-3kg-in-a -week depressed and haven't-clean-my-house-in-weeks depressed :p... anyway, still managed to do all of my experiments and have amazing grades in all my classes, so yay!
My pilates class ended, and now I'm in the gym, which is the only thing responsible for my mental health
I'm not a whore :((( could you give me some advice on how to become one myself??
I'm mentally a whore. In reality im a loser lesbian. I don't really slut it out you know, I'm not the best person for you to ask about it, unfortunately 😔
I keep forgetting to use my emoji at the end of my asks 🥹🥹
Does anyone else get this on their period i feel like someone's squeezing my insides and I feel like how I imagine a grape would feel like when it's turned into a raisin 🤔
This is so random im so sorry ahaha 😋😋
-🦎
I do, but I was diagnosed with endometriosis 🫣 maybe it's the same for you!
Rant time! Feel free to skip it, i don't want to make other people annoyed.
Hi!! Not very well. I always get super sad during winter, and it's the end of semester and I couldn't care less about everything I need to do + plus I only want to sleep all the time + plus I have zero energy for social interactions :p anyway season depression sucks.
I've been working at lot at the lab lately, I'm very stressed out over my results. I'm also doing some phd results for a girl in my lab so another responsibility on my back on top of my undergraduate classes and my own research.
I also physically cannot open up to my friends, I talk to them a lot of course, but when it comes to talk about how I'm feeling it's a whooooole other story. For me it's the same as taking a knife, sliding through my stomach and watching my guts spilling out... :p also have a hard time bringing it up in therapy so yeah i need to be sedated. Put down. Whatever name you have for it.
Also, I hate everything I write and sometimes I feel like the only good thing about me is writing so when I don't get anything done I feel bad :p
Anyway I'm reading a lot! It's the only thing bringing me jo.I've read almost every Emily Austin book! Currently I'm reading:
- we could be rats
- our wives under the sea
- piranesi
- leaning curve -> I'm leaning a whole lot about art with this one very cool and silly and romantic!!
And i am also someone who loves dom!ale however I feel like it requires a certain headspace to write for as shes very intense (especially compared to intimacy and keeping score) obvs she still cares for and loves r but she shows it so differently so people, I fear we are going to have to be very patient here but dom!ale will probably be written again at some point so never fear!
Thank you baby! <3
Yeah, dom alexia or any writing with dom/sub dynamics requires a whole other mental state hehehe mostly because I need to get ✨️creative ✨️ first in order to think of what to write, and I'm nor creative right now, that's why I'm only working on editing fics that are already posted. So yeah, you guys will need to be patient 😔
warnings: nsfw, smut with a decently long plot, fluff, established relationship, WLW, dom!baran, bratty reader, teasing, arguing as foreplay (walk with me), soft dominance, praise kink, oral sex (both receiving), fingering (both receiving), grinding, reader wears a slip dress (projecting), pet names, possessiveness, needy behavior, sloppy makeouts (which is lowkey a staple of mine at this point), multiple orgasms, jealous!baran, light spanking, aftercare (since I didn't do it in my jack fic), slight dacryphili vibes, nipple play, use of the phrase "good girl." Yeah, this one is super long. This is lowkey my apology for posting a Robby fic and then dipping for the rest of the month. Sorry for any mistakes in editing. I got tired halfway through it, but I think I fixed what I needed to.
wc: 7.3k (this marks my longest fic ever posted so far)
synopsis: After storming out on date night to prove a point, you end up right back in Baran's place and her bed anyway.
masterlist link: the pitt
an: Surprise fic release tonight!! This one has been chilling in my drafts for a while, and I finally got around to editing it. Hope you enjoy it!!! I promise my satc part two will be out sometime this month!! Is this fic inspired by an old fic I already wrote... maybe, but I didn't realize until halfway through this fic when someone liked that old fic... sorry for my posting schedule being very random, I've been busy working on my slasher script and filming !! Maybe I'll start with a few updates here about it.
You stood barefoot in front of your mirror, still damp from the shower, hair dripping softly down your shoulders, as you stared at your reflection, as it had personally offended you. The steam had long since faded from the bathroom, but your frustration hadn’t. The air still felt charged, like the argument had left fingerprints on everything it touched. On your thoughts, on your chest, on the way, you kept replaying her voice in your head like a song you didn’t want stuck there but couldn’t get rid of anyway.
Of course, it started over something stupid. It usually did with her. Something about time, something about timing, in all honesty, you had forgotten what made you so upset. That was the worst part. You were upset, and Baran rarely wasted energy on being cruel back to you. She was too precise for that, like everything she did had already been measured twice before she let it leave her mouth. It was mature of her, but you were too stubborn to let it fizzle out as typical disagreements did.
So now you were here. In your own apartment all alone, proving absolutely nothing except that you were, in fact, very good at being annoyed.
You wrapped a towel tighter around yourself and padded into your bedroom, the soft pink lighting of your space making everything feel softer than your actual mood was. Your vanity was still scattered with the aftermath of getting ready for a dinner you had left upset, lip gloss, earrings you hadn’t bothered to put back, and a nice shirt draped over the chair like it had been abandoned mid-thought. The contrast between your carefully curated femininity and the sharp edge of your irritation made everything feel almost theatrical, like you were performing anger in a room designed for softness.
Your phone buzzed.
BARAN.
Of course.
You stared at the name for a second too long. Just long enough for your heartbeat to shift from the irritation into something more complicated. Because Baran didn’t text like other people. No emojis. No unnecessary punctuation. No softening. Even her messages looked like they were standing at attention. You didn’t open it immediately. You should have. You knew she wasn’t the type to send a dozen follow-ups or spiral into dramatics. If anything, she was probably sitting somewhere completely still right now, waiting for you to respond like patience was just another discipline she’d mastered.
You hated the part of her.
You also missed it.
The phone buzzed again, as if it had sensed your hesitation.
Another message.
You exhaled through your nose, slow, like you were trying to physically push the annoyance out of your body. Because she was right. And she knew she was right. And that, somehow, made it worse. You turned away from the mirror and sank onto the edge of your bed, towel slipping slightly as you curled one leg under you.
Your phone began to vibrate. A new call.
You stared at the contact picture you had put for your girlfriend, your thumb hovered over the screen.
You didn’t even say hello.
You just tapped the call icon and pressed the phone to your ear, sinking deeper into your pillows like you were physically bracing yourself for impact. A pause. Then her voice—low, calm, annoyingly composed.
“Are you done being dramatic yet?”
You scoffed immediately, the sound sharp and offended. “I’m not being dramatic.”
“...You’re literally in your apartment refusing to come over.”
“I’m not refusing,” you corrected sweetly, rolling onto your side and walking your fingers lazily along your duvet as if you weren’t actively engaged in emotional warfare. “I’m thinking.”
“That’s new.”
Your eyes narrowed. “Baran.”
Her name came out like a warning, but it didn’t land the way you wanted it to. If anything, it seemed to amuse her. You could almost hear it in the silence that followed, her breathing steady, controlled, like she had all the time in the world to wait you out. Another pause, this one softer, like she was leaning back on her couch on the other end of the call. You could picture it too easily: her hair slightly messy, sleeves rolled up from whatever she’d been doing before calling you, that unreadable expression she had when she was trying not to smile but refusing to admit it outright.
“I’m coming to get you,” she said simply.
That made you sit up.
“No, you’re not.”
“I am.”
You huffed, rolling your eyes even though she couldn’t see it. Still, you did it anyway, because Baran always acted as if she could. Like she’d already accounted for every possible objection you might have and dismissed them before you’d even finished forming them. It was infuriating. It was also part of why you kept picking fights with her in the first place.
“I just got out of the shower,” you said, shifting the phone to your other ear, letting your voice tilt into something intentionally casual.
There was a shift in her tone immediately. Still calm but not sharper around the edges.
“So?”
You smiled to yourself, slow and knowing. She was trying to act unaffected. Cute.
“I’m busy,” you said lightly, twirling the loose thread on your towel around your finger. You glanced at your reflection again in the darkened mirror across the room.
“You’re in bed.”
“I’m busy in bed.”
A beat of silence stretched so long you could practically hear her recalibrating. You imagined her grip tightening slightly on the phone, her jaw shifting just barely the way it did when she was trying to maintain control of a conversation she didn’t like the direction of.
Then, quieter: “Come over.”
You leaned back against your pillows, letting the tension stretch just a little longer, just to feel it. Just to test how far you could push her before she stopped being patient and started being something else entirely.
“What for?” you asked.
“You know what for.”
You smiled.
But you weren’t done yet.
You sighed dramatically, letting it fill the space between you like a performance. Like the conversation had exhausted you beyond repair, and she should feel appropriately guilty for it.
“Mm,” you hummed. “I think I’ll just spend the night with my vibrator.”
“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” Baran said flatly.
The way she said it wasn’t loud, but it was absolute. No humor in it. Just a warning delivered with the same calm precision she probably used in high-pressure situations at work, the same tone that made people listen whether they wanted to or not.
“Oh, I can finish,” you replied sweetly.
There it was again—that tension, stretched thin and humming between you like a live wire. You didn’t even wait for her response. You hung up and smiled at your phone as if you’d just won something.
Except you hadn’t. Because not even five minutes later, you were standing in your room, holding your dead vibrator like it had betrayed you on a deeply personal, almost spiritual level. There was something uniquely offensive about the timing of it, like the universe had watched your argument unfold, watched you hang up on Baran with that smug little sense of victory, and decided to humble you.
You pressed the button again, slower this time, like maybe gentleness would fix it. Nothing. You pressed it again, thumb digging in like you could force it back to life through sheer willpower. Still nothing. The silence that followed felt louder than it should have, like the absence of that familiar buzz was mocking you.
Your gaze drifted, almost reluctantly, toward the charger lying on the floor beside your nightstand. Not where it should’ve been. There was a pause, a moment where your brain tried to protect you from the obvious conclusion forming in the back of your mind. Then you bent down, picking it up carefully, as if there was still a chance this wasn’t about to ruin your night. And immediately, you saw the problem.
A clean, unmistakable bite mark sliced right through the cord. Not worn down. Chewed.
You went still, your fingers tightening slightly around the cord as the realization settled in. “...No,” you whispered, softer this time.
You turned your head toward the culprit, pointing with deliberate accusation. “You chewed my charger.”
From the hallway, your cat blinked at you. Completely unbothered, like it had not just single-handedly sabotaged your entire evening.
A long, suffering sigh left your chest as you dropped backward onto your bed, letting the charger fall from your hand as you sprawled out dramatically across the sheets. The cool fabric beneath your skin is doing absolutely nothing to soothe the irritation building in your chest. Of course. Of course, this was happening. Of course, this was how your night was going to go. You pick a fight with your girlfriend, storm out on your own terms, ignore her text, tease her, hang up like you had the upper hand. And now you were here. Defeated by a broken charger and a cat with no moral compass.
You stared up at the ceiling, expression blank as your thoughts slowly unraveled. Ten minutes passed, your annoyance simmering quietly. At some point, you pushed yourself up, grabbing a pillow and hugging it tightly to your chest like it might offer some kind of answer, some kind of resolution that didn’t involve you admitting anything out loud. You were still annoyed, and that hadn’t changed. Still stubborn. But underneath that, you were also bored. Frustratingly bored.
And worse, you were aware of it. Aware of the way your apartment felt too quiet without her presence cutting through it.
You exhaled sharply, tossing the pillow aside as you swung your legs over the edge of the bed, the decision forming before you could overthink it. “This is stupid,” you muttered, throwing on your closest outfit and slippers.
Your eyes flicked toward the mirror again, catching your reflection mid-motion. You rolled your eyes at yourself, grabbing your coat from the chair and slipping it on with a small huff.
“You’re so dramatic,” you said under your breath.
You grabbed your keys, hesitating for only a second before heading toward the door. Behind you, your cat remained exactly where it was, watching with quiet, satisfied stillness.
You pointed at it one last time as you stepped out. “This isn’t over.”
The cat blinked slowly, utterly unbothered as it got up, flicking its tail at you before leaving to go sleep.
~
Baran’s place was only a short drive away, but it felt longer than it should have, stretched thin by your own stubborn thoughts looping in circles. The city lights blurred past your window, smearing together as you spent the entire ride convincing yourself you were not giving in, that this wasn’t some quiet admission of defeat or a soft collapse into her orbit like it always seemed to be.
When you finally parked, you took a second before getting out, catching your reflection faintly in the rearview mirror. Your expression was composed, maybe a little too composed, like you were holding something just beneath the surface and refusing to let it show. You adjusted your coat slightly, smoothing the fabric over your body, then stepped out into the night air, cooler here, quieter than your own street had been.
You knocked once.
Then again.
The door opened.
Baran stood there.
Of course, she looked perfect. Dark shirt, sleeves rolled, hair messy in that deliberate way that suggested she had been working, focused on something important, but still somehow managed to look like she belonged in a magazine spread about effortless authority. There was no rush in her posture, no surprise in her expression. Just that same steady presence, like she had expected this outcome all along and was simply waiting for you to catch up to it. Her eyes flickered over you, slow and assessing, moving from your face down the length of your body and back again before settling.
“You’re here,” she said.
You lifted your chin slightly, holding onto that last thread of defiance as it mattered more than it probably did. “I’m not here because of you.”
“Of course not.”
You narrowed your eyes immediately. “Don’t start.”
Baran didn’t respond to that, at least not verbally. She simply stepped aside, giving you space to walk in, her gaze following you with that quiet, observant look she always wore when she was already three steps ahead of whatever conversation you thought you were having. It wasn’t smug. It was certain.
You walked past her, posture straight, still holding onto your dignity like it was something tangible you could physically carry with you into the room. You shrugged off your coat. The moment it hit the couch, you heard it. Just the slightly pause behind you, as something in the room had shifted.
You turned slowly, one brow lifting. “Problem?”
Baran’s eyes were on you now. Fully.
The pink satin slip dress caught the low light of her place, reflecting it in soft, subtle glimmers that moved when you did. The straps rested delicately against your shoulders, the fabrics skimming over you in a way that felt intentional without trying too hard. It was the kind of look you always leaned into, soft, but impossible to ignore once someone actually looked at you.
Baran exhaled slowly through her nose, her jaw shifting just slightly as if she was adjusting to something she hadn’t planned for.
“...You came over like this,” she said.
You tilted your head, feigning innocence. “Like what?”
A beat passed, her gaze not wavering.
“You’re mad at me.”
“I was.”
Her eyes stayed locked on yours. “And now?”
You let a small, sweet smile curve onto your lips, subtle but deliberate. “Now I’m just inconvenienced.”
That earned something from her—not quite a laugh, not quite a reaction you could pin down, but a soft exhale that carried the faintest hint of amusement. It was rare, those moments where her composure slipped just enough to reveal something underneath. You noticed every single one.
She stepped closer.
“You hung up on me.”
“You were being annoying and ordering me around.”
“That’s what you like about me.”
You scoffed lightly, crossing your arms just enough to keep up the act. “That is not what I like about you.”
“No?”
You held her gaze, the space between you narrowing without either of you fully acknowledging it. The air shifted again, that familiar tension settling in, charged in a way that made arguments feel less like conflict and more like something leading somewhere else.
“...Maybe a little,” you admitted.
That did it.
The corner of her mouth twitched. Her eyes dipped briefly to your lips, the movement small but noticeable, before returning to your eyes.
You rolled your eyes slightly before adding, almost offhand, “Anyway, I didn’t come all this way here just for you. My vibrator died, and the charger’s destroyed. So technically, you’re just…the backup plan.” You said lightly, like it didn’t matter, like it was just another thing to throw into the conversation. Like you were watching her reaction carefully.
Baran didn’t react the way you expected.
She didn’t scoff. She didn’t look offended. If anything, she went still for a fraction of a second, her focus sharpening in a way that made your stomach flip before you could stop it.
“The backup,” she repeated slowly.
You shrugged, trying to keep it casual. “Temporary solution.”
“And you thought telling me that would do what?” she asked, voice calm, curious.
You hesitated for half a second too long. “Nothing. I was just saying.”
“You wanted a reaction.”
“I didn’t—”
“You did,” she cut in, not harshly, like she was stating a fact instead of arguing. “You wanted me to care. You’re always dramatic. Telling me I’m the second choice.”
Your composure slipped, just a little. “I didn’t say second–”
“You implied it.”
Your mouth opened, then closed again, the words catching somewhere between your pride and the way she was looking at you now.
She tilted her head slightly, watching you, and there was something different in her expression now. Like she had already flipped the entire situation without raising her voice once.
Baran lifted a hand then, her fingers brushing lightly against the strap of your dress where it rested on your shoulder. She adjusted it with deliberate care, the touch slow, controlled, like she wasn’t in any hurry to finish the motion. Like she was aware of exactly what that small contact did to you.
“You’re still mad,” she said quietly.
“Mm-hm.”
“Are you going to stay mad?”
You leaned in slightly, just enough to close the space further, and your voice dropped to match hers.
“Depends.”
“On what?”
“On whether you’re going to keep talking,” you said softly.
Baran looked at you for a long moment, her gaze steady and unreliable in that way that always made your body feel fuzzy on the inside, like she had already concluded you hadn’t quite caught up to yet.
Then, she kissed you.
The kiss was firm at first, grounding, her hand coming up to rest lightly at your jaw as she tilted your face just enough to meet her exactly where she wanted. There was no urgency in her movements, no frantic need to prove to another. Your hands found her shift instinctively, fingers curling into the fabric at her waist, gripping just enough to anchor yourself as the lingering frustration in your chest melted into something warmer. Sharper. It spread slowly, like heat seeping into your skin, replacing irritation with something that made your thoughts blur at the edges. She didn’t overwhelm you. She never did.
Instead, she let the moment build, the kiss deepening gradually, her thumb brushing once along your jaw in a way that felt absentminded but intentional at the same time. Like she wasn’t rushing to get anywhere, she was already exactly where she wanted to be. When she pulled back slightly, it wasn’t far. Just enough to break the contact, to let the air settle between you again, though it felt different now. Her forehead nearly touched yours, her breath steady. She noticed how, in your rush to come to her place, you had forgotten any bras, the silk doing little to hide you much; she was affecting you.
“You’re wearing this just to be difficult,” she murmured, her voice low, the teasing softened into something more intimate. Her right hand came up to tease your chest through the thin fabric.
You smiled against her, your fingers still curled loosely in her shirt, unwilling to let go. “I always wear this.”
“That’s the problem.”
And then she kissed you again. Longer this time. Slower. Her hand slid from your jaw to your neck, fingers resting there with gentle pressure that kept you exactly where she wanted you. The subtle dominance from the slight pressure of her fingers caused a soft moan from you. The kiss deepened, not hurried but more consuming, like she was taking her time, exploring instead of claiming.
Your hands moved without thinking, one sliding along her arm, the other settling at her shoulder as you leaned into her more fully. At some point—though you weren’t entirely sure when—your back met the couch. The shift was smooth, Baran guiding you without force, just a steady presence that moved you where she wanted you to be. The cushions dipped beneath you, soft and grounding, but your focus never left her, not when she followed, not when her hand braced lightly beside you, keeping her close without crowding you.
The kiss didn’t break. It changed. Slower still, deeper in a way that felt less like tension and more like familiarity, like something you both knew how to navigate without thinking. Your fingers tightened briefly against her, pulling her just a fraction closer, letting her rest her knee between your thighs, granting you that slight pressure you desperately craved, and for once, she let you set that pace.
Her voice, when she finally spoke again, was low, almost lost in the space between you.
“Stay.”
Baran just looked at you for a long moment, her expression unreadable in that frustratingly controlled way she always carried herself. But her eyes gave her away. They stayed fixed on yours, dark and intent, quietly studying the glossy look settling over them like she was waiting for something. Waiting for you to decide. Waiting for you to stop pretending you weren’t already affected by her.
And the worst part was that she knew you would. Even now, with tension wrapped tightly around both of you, she stayed composed enough to let you come to her first.
And, you did.
Slowly, almost cautiously at first, you leaned in again, your lips already parted by the time they brushed against hers. The kiss started soft again, tentative before you felt it—the faint curve of her smile against your mouth. Enough to make heat rush into your chest. Her hands moved then, sliding around your waist in a slow, almost lazy motion until they settled against the curve of your hips. The touch wasn’t rough or demanding.
You leaned into her properly this time, your arms wrapping around her neck as you pulled her closer, your fingers brushing against the soft strands of hair at the nape of her neck. The kiss deepened naturally after that, turning warmer and messier around the edges, all lingering frustration dissolving beneath the steady pull of her attention. Baran kissed like she argued. Impossible to ignore once she committed to it.
There was nothing hurried about her movements, but there was still need underneath them, something carefully contained that only slipped through in moments like this. You could feel it in the way her breathing started to lose its rhythm slightly, in the way her hands tightened just enough against your waist to betray her composure.
The couch cushions shifted softly beneath you as you leaned further back, Baran following without hesitation, staying close enough that the warmth of her surrounded you. Your fingers curled lightly into the fabric of her shirt, tugging her nearer without thinking, and your tongue slides against her for a few seconds, the movements sloppy. That finally earned something from her. A quieter inhale, a subtle break in that perfect control she carried so naturally.
When she pulled back slightly, it wasn’t far enough to truly create distance. Her forehead brushed yours again, her gaze flicking over your face with careful attention, like she was memorizing every reaction you gave her.
“There you are, Eshgham,” she murmured, cupping your face, thumb caressing your warm skin. Her words were a bit mocking-sounding; she could see how affected you were by just kissing.
You laughed quietly, breathless despite yourself. “You sound very pleased with yourself right now.”
“I usually am,” she replied dryly, though her hand slid slowly along your side, up to your chest, which completely ruined the calmness of her tone.
You rolled your eyes faintly, but the reaction dissolved the second she kissed you again. This time, it was deeper immediately, less teasing and more consuming, the kind of kiss that made it difficult to think about anything else. Your hand slipped into her hair instinctively, fingers brushing through the curly hair. As her tongue tangles with yours, her hands drift lower, fingers gripping the curve of your ass, tugging your slip dress up, pulling you up against her knee. The second she guided your hips, you lightly ground against her slowly, a soft, whiny moan slipping out.
Baran’s breathing had gone uneven when she pulled away, warm and shallow near your throat as though she was fighting to stay composed and failing beautifully at it. Every movement of her mouth felt deliberate, like she knew exactly what you wanted. She normally did. She was forcing herself to slow down even while desire burned hot beneath her calm exterior. Her lips pressed against yours again, softer this time, deeper in a way that made your chest ache. She memorized every little sound you made, every tiny twitch in your body, every shaky inhale that escaped whenever her knee pushed up between your thighs just right. The friction had your head tilting back against the couch cushion, hands grabbing her waist, her chest, anywhere you could reach, with no real motive other than to touch.
Another slow grind against her knee dragged a breathless sound from you, and Baran’s mouth twitched into the faintest smirk before she leaned down to your neck again. Her lips brushed along the sensitive skin beneath your jaw, lingering there before she bit down lightly, just enough to make you gasp. The sound seemed to go straight to her head. You felt it in the way her grip tightened suddenly, fingertips pressing harder into your ass while she rolled her knee up again, slower this time, more intentional. A low sound slipped from her throat near your ear, rough and needy in a way that made heat curl low in your stomach.
“Fuck,” she muttered quietly, voice strained.
The word fanned across your skin, making your pulse jump. You could feel how hard she was trying to stay patient, how every teasing kiss and measured movement was barely containing the hunger underneath. Baran pulled back just enough to look at you, her dark eyes flicking over your warm face, your swollen lips, the way you were still unconsciously rocking against her. Her expression softened for half a second, almost affectionate, thumb brushing along your waist beneath your shirt, before something darker settled back over her features.
“Get to the bed,” she said huskily, the command low and rough around the edges. “Now, before I lose my mind out here.”
The words sent a shiver straight down your spine.
You barely had time to laugh softly before she was helping you off the couch, her hands never really left you. The second you turned toward the hallway, Baran’s palm landed against your ass in a playful smack that made you yelp and glance back at her with wide eyes.
A smug grin tugged at her lips immediately.
“Keep walking,” she murmured.
There was something unfairly attractive about seeing her like this—usually so composed, so controlled, now following close behind you with her jaw tight and her eyes full of want. The tension in the air felt thick enough to choke on by the time you reached her bedroom. The moment you stepped inside, Baran crowded into you from behind, one hand sliding around your waist while the other pushed the door shut with a dull click.
Then her mouth was on you again.
The kiss was hotter this time, less patient than before. She backed you toward the bed slowly, lips moving against yours with messy desperation while her hands roamed over your body like she couldn’t decide where she wanted to touch first. The back of your knees hit the edge of the mattress, and you let out a startled laugh against her mouth, but Baran only kissed you harder to swallow the sound.
“You drive me inside, you know that?” she murmured between kisses, forehead resting briefly against yours. Her voice had dropped lower now, rough with restraint. “Walking around looking at me like that all night like you weren’t trying to start something.”
You smiled breathlessly. “Maybe I was.”
Baran exhaled a quiet, disbelieving laugh before shaking her head. “Dangerous answer.”
She nudged you backward onto the mattress gently, despite the impatience written all over her face, climbing over you immediately after. The bed dipped beneath her weight while she settled between your thighs, one hand sliding into your hair to tilt your head back for another kiss. Every touch from her felt warm and grounding, even when there was an edge of desperation behind it. She kissed you slowly again, like she couldn’t help herself, like no matter how needy she got, she still wanted to savor you.
“So pretty,” she muttered softly against your lips, eyes dragging over your face in a way that made your stomach flip. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
Her curls brushed your cheek as she kissed you again, slower this time, deep enough that it made your head spin. One of her hands finally slid beneath the hem of your slip dress, fingertips tracing the outside of your thigh so gently it made you shiver.
“All that attitude from earlier gone already?” Baran murmured, noticing instantly.
You huffed out a weak little protest, but it only made her smirk.
“A few hours ago, you were throwing a hissy fit trying to prove a point.” She teased, voice warm with amusement as her lips moved to your jaw. “Now look at you.” Another kiss. “Whiny.” a softer one beneath your ear. “Needy.” Then a gentle bite that made your breath catch completely. “All because I touched you a little. Is that how your brain works? You get a bit of the attention you want, and now you’re being a good girl for me.”
Your fingers tightened in the fabric of her soft bed sheets immediately. “Baran—”
“Mhm?” she hummed against your skin, clearly enjoying herself now. “You’re so spoiled.”
The words should’ve sounded mean, but the way she said them—soft around the edges—only made warmth spread through your chest. Baran kissed down your throat slowly after that, taking her time leaving lingering kisses along the sensitive skin there until your breathing had turned shaky beneath her. Every so often, she’d pause just long enough to glance up at you, watching the way your expression changed every time her mouth found a new spot that made you squirm. Her hands slid higher beneath your slip dress, fingertips smoothing over your waist before she slowly pushed the fabric upward. The movement was unhurried, giving you plenty of time to feel the heat rise in your face under the intensity of her attention. Baran sat back just enough to pull the dress over your head, tossing it somewhere onto the floor without a second thought.
The look she gave you afterward nearly stole the air from your lungs entirely.
For a moment, she just stared.
Her gaze dragged slowly over your almost bare body, dark eyes softening with something almost unbearably tender before desire settled back in again. Her eyes were on you like she couldn’t believe you were real.
“You’re so pretty, Eshgham.”
The sincerity in her voice made your stomach twist harder than any teasing had.
Baran leaned down again before you could hide your face, pressing another kiss to your lips first, then chin, then lower and lower until her mouth skimmed along your collarbone. Her kisses trailed down your chest slowly, each one warm and lingering enough to make your back arch against the mattress. One of her hands stayed anchored against your hip while the other smoothed comfortingly along your side, grounding you even as she made your thoughts blur.
“So dramatic earlier,” she murmured against your chest. “Acting like you didn’t want my attention.”
You swallowed hard when her lips brushed over your stomach.
Baran kissed lower again, slow enough to feel almost cruel. Her hands spread your thighs gently as she settled comfortably between them, looking entirely too pleased with the way you reacted to her being there. The sight alone had your pulse racing. She looked up at you with that same focused intensity she always had, except now it was softened by obvious affection, by the faint smile tugging at her mouth every time you squirmed beneath her touch.
“You know,” she said thoughtfully, voice roughened now, “for someone who wanted to be stubborn all night, you’re being very clingy.”
Your face burned instantly. “Shut up.”
Baran laughed quietly under her breath before leaning forward to press a soft kiss above your panties.
“No,” she replied simply, lips brushing almost where you wanted her. “I like hearing you get all whiny for me.”
Whatever smart remark you’d been preparing dies instantly the second Baran hooks her fingers beneath the fabric at your hip and slowly tugs the fabric down and off, tossing it onto her floor. Cool air brushes over exposed skin for barely a second before her mouth replaces it, warm and open against the curve of your hipbone. The kiss she presses there is almost tender at first, enough to make your stomach tighten, but then she drags her tongue slowly along your skin until finding your aching clit, and the breath leaves your lungs entirely.
“Oh, fuck,” you gasp softly, your hand immediately tangling into her curls.
A chuckle vibrates against your skin at your reaction. “Impatient already?”
You glare weakly down at her despite the way your hips twitch toward her instinctively, the woman stopping your movement with a soft pinch. “Baran…”
“Mhm?” she hummed innocently, though the smug curve of her mouth ruins the act completely.
The teasing shouldn’t affect you as much as it does, but Baran has always known exactly how to pull you apart slowly. Likes hearing your breathing turn uneven and seeing the way your confidence crumbles the longer she keeps teasing you. She leans forward again, pressing a lingering kiss against your clit, not quite giving you what you want. Her hands smooth upward along your legs in slow, grounding motions, fingertips pressing gently into soft skin while she watches you squirm beneath her.
She drags her tongue through your wet folds, just light enough to make your head fall back against the pillows and your hips attempt to move up again to meet her movement. The teasing is relentless. Every touch feels calculated to keep you aching. This was payback for your teasing over the phone. For even pretending she was a second choice to a toy.
“I hate you,” you mutter weakly.
“No, you don’t.”
Baran shifts slightly then, one arm hooking beneath your thigh to keep you open for her while the other slides up to your waist.
“Look at me, pretty girl,” she says quietly.
The softness in her tone catches you off guard enough that you obey immediately. Her tongue is suddenly circling your pulsing clit, sending a shiver down your spine.
“Oh,” you gasp.
You feel her tongue drag around your swollen bud before dragging down your cunt, her tongue flat and wet. You moan as she drags her tongue back to your clit, spreading your slick around. Her eyes closed, getting lost in her actions. The sight of her between your legs turns you on even more than her tongue on you. Finally, it seemed like Baran was done toying with you when her lips closed around your clit.
“Fuck,” you moan. Warm pleasure started building in you as she swirled her tongue and sucked on your clit. She pulled you more flush against her mouth, holding you in her strong grip.
Baran pulled away momentarily, reaching up to press two fingers against your lips. You got the hint and took them into your mouth, letting her rub your tongue, wetting them before she pulled them away, bringing them back down to press the two fingers inside of you, her tongue working at your clit, drawing moan after moan from you. Her fingers curling expertly inside you.
For a few minutes, she builds to a steady pace, holding back just enough to keep you teetering on the edge. Your hand tugging at her hair, pushing her closer, needing to feel her even more.
“Faster…please, Baran, please.”
She began to lick in tight, deliberate circles. You couldn’t stop the hard whines slipping from your kiss-swollen lips.
“Shit,” you breathe, “Like that, please.” Your hips rolled forward to match the thrust of her finger and tongue as you gathered her hair in a makeshift ponytail, as she devoured you whole.
Her fingers dig harder into your hips as she prodded that spot in you that had you swear you were seeing stars.
Within seconds, your orgasm washed through you. Your hips writhe down instinctively, and Baran pulls back to watch you come, her fingers still working you through your orgasm. Her voice full of praises, none quite making sense in your airy head, but you know they’re sweet when your body feels all warm. Once you finally come back down, you see her face, lips, and chin glistening with your essence. Her face is downright criminal. Your chest was heaving, body twitched a little when she pressed soft kisses along your thigh and leg.
She came to hover above you. You pulled her down against your body, kissing her deeply. You could taste yourself on her tongue, and you moaned into her. You grab at the front of her shirt as you kiss her, tongue slipping into her mouth, only pulling away to allow you to pull her shirt off and toss it where she tossed your clothes. She leaned back down to kiss you, and you grabbed her waist, pushing her onto her back.
You crawled over her, knee pressing between her thighs as you deepened the kiss. She kisses back as she needed you more than she needed air. You sit back, hooking your fingers in the belt loops of the pants she had worn out on your date. The ones that hugged her so tightly, you always had your eyes on her ass.
“Off.”
She lifted her hips, letting you peel the pants and her thong down together. When you tossed them to the side, you saw her cunt was glistening, flushed. She was practically leaking after bringing you to your own orgasm. Getting off on getting you off.
You dragged a finger through her slit, similar to how she teased you at first. Spreading her folds open, the sound was wet in Baran’s bedroom.
“Don’t be like that.”
You playfully pouted, circling her clit softly. “You teased me for hours.”
She makes a frustrated noise, “It wasn’t hours.”
“Hours.”
You dragged your fingers through all the slickness, coating them with her wetness, then dragging your wet fingertips against her clit. Finally, you slipped a finger inside of her, feeling the way she clenched around it, then pulling out only for a second to replace it with two, hearing her let out a soft hiss. You slowly fucked your fingers into her slowly and shallow, stretching her. You leaned over her chest, kissing her breast, taking one of her nipples into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the peaked bud. Baran arched into your touch, moaning low when your fingers curled into her.
“You’re dripping,” you murmured against her skin, rubbing the spot that makes her gasp. You felt her hips rock down onto your fingers. You came off her nipple with a pop and moved onto the neglected one, moaning around her. You fucked her steadily, thumb rubbing her clit in tight circles.
You pulled off of her, sliding back down to replace your thumb with your tongue, swirling the tip of it around her clit. You felt her walls flutter around your fingers, her moans getting breathier as she got closer to the edge. Her hip ground down shamelessly. Slick sounds fill the room every time you thrust your fingers in and out.
When she finally comes hard, back arching off her bed, cunt pulsing around your fingers, gripping in a tight vice. You continued to fuck her through her orgasm—slow and deep—drawing it out until she was shuddering against the bed. You smiled against her clit, giving one last hard suck, causing her thighs to shake around your head, allowing you to feel the aftershocks. You pulled up, kissing around her pubic area, tasting the sweat on her skin.
Slowly, you pulled your fingers out of her, slowly to not hurt her in any way. Baran lets a little whine slip before she pulls you into her arms.
“You okay?” you asked, kissing her face softly, brushing her curls damp with sweat off her face.
Baran nodded.
You leaned down to press a sweet kiss against the tip of her nose. You pulled back, “Be right back.”
The bathroom light spilled warm across the bedroom when you stepped back inside, two damp towels folded over your arm. The air still carried the faint smell of sweat and Baran’s laundry detergent, ground in a domestic way.
Baran was stretched across the bed on her back, one arm tucked beneath her head, while she watched you approach. Her curls were slightly damp around her neck, cheeks warm from the actions, dark eyes following your movement carefully. The walls she kept up around everyone else never fully existed with you; moments like this were when they disappeared entirely.
You climbed carefully onto the mattress beside her and unfolded one of the towels.
“You don’t have to do that right now,” she murmured.
“I want to,” you answered quietly.
Baran let out a slow breath through her nose and relaxed deeper into the pillows while you gently started cleaning the sweat and stickiness from her skin. You were careful with her, tender around the sensitive parts of her thighs where every little touch still made her twitch slightly. The towel glided softly against warm skin while your other hand steadied against her knee.
A tiny shiver rolled through her body, and one of her brows twitched upward.
“Sorry,” you whispered with a small laugh.
“You’re fine.”
Her voice came out rough but fond.
You continued slowly, taking your time cleaning the inside of her thighs, her hips, and the sheen of sweat along her stomach. Baran watched you the entire time with intense eyes that always made you feel seen down to your bones. Like she wanted to memorize every version of you.
You thought back to how you got dramatic about something you could barely remember. Telling your girlfriend she was losing to a vibrator earlier that night. Your face warmed just thinking about it.
Baran noticed immediately.
“What?” she asked quietly.
You shook your head, “Nothing.”
“That’s a lie.”
You snorted softly at that. “You’re annoying.”
“And you’re avoiding whatever thought just embarrassed you.”
The corner of her mouth twitched upward triumphantly when you groaned.
You finished cleaning her off first before standing to take care of yourself in the bathroom. By the time you came back, Bara had shifted onto her side, blankets loose around her waist, while she watched you return with sleepy eyes. You tossed the towels toward the pile of abandoned clothes on the floor for later and crawled back into bed beside her. The mattress dipped beneath your weight immediately, and Baran didn’t hesitate for even a second before pulling you into her.
You melted against her chest with a quiet sigh while her fingers lazily dragged up and down your arm. The repetitive motion sends chills across your skin despite the heat between you both.
You mumbled against her shoulder, “I’m sorry.”
Baran’s hand paused briefly. “For?”
You lifted your head just enough to look at her. “For storming out of the date night in a bad mood.”
Her expression softened instantly.
“And for saying you were second choice to my vibrator.”
That finally earned a low laugh from her, tired and genuine.
You pointed at her chest. “Don’t laugh, I was being very serious at the time.”
“Mhm.”
“I was.”
Baran’s eyes narrowed slightly while her fingers continued tracing along your arm. “And yet here you are.”
You tried not to smile and failed right away. “Yeah, well. You’re better.”
“I know.”
The confidence in her answer made you laugh softly into her shoulder.
“So cocky.”
“It’s not cocky if it’s true.”
You rolled your eyes affectionately, but Baran only tucked you closer against her chest until your leg tangled with hers beneath the blankets.
“I love you.”
You tilted your head up enough to press a lingering kiss against her jaw. “I love you too.”
☆ Summary: Alexia's accidentally cockblocking reader and Kika. Or is it accidental? -> Mentor Alexia/reader | Dating Kika/reader.
☆ Word count: 1.3k
☆ Warning: a bit smutty, but not much. Just making out stuff.
a/n: Just a little ficlet I wrote for Stuck with you, but it won't make it to the series. I deleted Olga from this blurb; that's why Alexia only mentions "a girl".
Your lips brushed softly along Kika's neck, each kiss slower than the last, and your hands were resting gently on Kika's hips as you settled more fully into her lap. Kika's breath caught with every press of your mouth against her skin, her fingers fidgeting at your waist impatiently, but still, she didn't make any further movement to actually slip inside, which was deeply unfortunate.
After a moment, you pulled back just enough to let your forehead rest against Kika's shoulder. Your voice was barely a whisper in the quiet, messy bedroom. "We haven't talked about this yet… have you ever done this before?" You blushed as the words spilt out of your mouth.
Surely you two should have sat down like two mature people and discussed sex, right? It should have happened before you were out of breath from making out for approximately one hour.
Kika shook her head, cheeks as beet-red as yours. She pressed one hand to her lips, as if sensing how bruised they were from all the kissing. "No… I've never been with a girl like this. It never… got to this point."
Your heart stuttered in your chest, making you pull back slightly, searching for her dark eyes. "Okay," you said gently. "We can stop, if you want, it's okay–"
Kika's hand moved to cup your cheek, her thumb brushing across your skin. She shook her head once, very slowly, as if to make a point; she was being deliberate about her decision. "I really don't want to stop. I'm in for it, if you are too, of course."
Your lips formed the shape of an o before you gently Kika's back onto the mattress again, your body moving over hers, feeling the softness of her skin and the hardness of her bones. Her hip was nudging yours, so you shifted so it was now settled over your stomach.
"Oh, surely I don't want to stop, no," you mumbled as your lips trailed kisses down her neck, sensing her pulse and her breathing. You press your body harder against hers, earning you a soft groan from Kika. You grind your hips together just enough to make Kika gasp again. You loved the sounds she was making; you needed to hear more and more.
As much as you were enthralled by her voice, Kika's nervousness was also palpable beneath you, so you forced yourself to slow down and stop for a second.
"Are you really okay??" you asked between kisses, your hands stroking her sides, trying to be tender and not too eager.
Kika nodded, her breath shallow as her fingers clenched at the bedsheets "I… I'm just a little nervous," she admitted.
You opened your mouth to respond, but just as if a bucket of cold water were poured over the two of you, there was a loud (and deeply irritating) knock at the door.
"Come eat dinner, you two," Alexia's voice called from the other side. For some reason, she didn't stop knocking, so her voice was coming out muffled over the sound of knuckles against wood.
You barely reacted, deciding to put your lips back on Kika's skin, as if ignoring Alexia would make her evaporate from this astral plane. Kika shifted nervously beneath you, but you continued, your attention focused entirely on the girl lying breathless on your mattress. The moment was too important to break; you didn't want it to end because of Alexia's unfortunate timing.
But… another knock came, way louder this time, "Y/n?" Alexia's voice was more insistent now. "Hey, are you listening?"
You groaned, refusing to let the interruption take over. You dragged your lips over Kika's neck, your body pressing down slightly more. Kika's breath hitched at the feeling; she closed her eyes, as if she was also trying to ignore Alexia.
But then, Alexia tried the door handle. And of course, it rattled in the silence of the room.
"... Y/n?" Alexia's voice was concerned now. "Nena? Are you there?"
You sighed in frustration but finally pulled back from Kika. "Just wait a little bit, yeah?" You told Kika.
She nodded, cheeks a deep pink, contrasting with her olive skin.
You glanced at the door, trying to ignore the fact that your heart was pounding and that you were definitely wet. But, of course, dinner seemed to be more important than meeting your and Kika's sexual needs.
You opened the door just enough to poke your head out, your expression of both impatience and embarrassment.
"What?" you asked, clearly irritated but also trying to hide the flustered heat in your cheeks and ignoring the fact that your hair told Alexia everything you had been doing inside the room, it was poking out in every direction.
Alexia raised an eyebrow, folding her arms. "Dinner?" she asked, her voice deadpan. "It's getting cold, nena."
You sighed, glancing back at Kika, who was still lying on the bed, trying to hide the blush on her face. You looked back at Alexia, your voice laced with sarcasm. "We're coming, okay?"
Alexia smirked knowingly, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "I hope you're feeling as frustrated as I was when you barged into my room when I was with that girl from last month."
You rolled your eyes and huffed. "At least I lock the door," you shot back. "Unlike you."
Alexia chuckled, giving you a knowing look before she left, her footsteps fading down the hall. You closed the door slowly, returning to Kika, who was still flushed, though now with a hint of relief.
You smirked, crawling back on top of her. "So… where were we, guapa?"
You had just settled back over Kika, lips brushing over the shell of her ear, when Kika reached up gently, cupping your cheeks with both hands. You froze, immediately softening under her touch. "Yeah? What's wrong?"
Kika gave you a tiny smile, then she leaned up and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your lips. When she pulled back, her cheeks were still pink, but her face seemed a bit more focused and steady.
"I think I'm hungry," Kika whispered, a little sheepish. "Sorry."
You blinked, then let out a soft breath, your forehead pressing gently against Kika's. You closed your eyes, your noses brushing. "Oh… yeah, okay," you murmured with a smile, brushing your thumb over Kika's hip. "Of course. Let's eat."
And just like that, the tension eased between you both. Your desires still sat deep in your lower stomach, still lingering and waiting. You got up from Kika and helped her up, taking her hand.
The two walked downstairs, where dinner was served.
The three of you sat around the kitchen table. Alexia and Kika were deep in a meandering conversation. You, meanwhile, sat slumped in your chair. You lazily pushed pasta around your plate. Your jaw was tense, and your eyes narrowed every time Kika giggled at one of Alexia's comments, like Alexia wasn't the biggest cock block in the whole world.
Alexia was a saboteur, that was what she was. A smug and calculated one. The captain sat directly across from you, chewing happily and sipping from her glass. She caught your death glare over the rim of her glass and smiled. Evil. She was so, so evil!
You narrowed your eyes. Alexia tilted her head, lips twitching. "You look tense, nena. Is everything okay?"
You didn't answer; instead, you took a long, bitter sip of your water, mostly to bite back all the bad things you wanted to say to her. Next to you, Kika bumped your knee gently under the table and whispered, "You are sulking… stop it."
"I'm not sulking," you muttered.
"Yeah, she isn't sulking, Kika," Alexia said. "She's just reflecting on the importance of knocking."
Without thinking, you kicked Alexia under the table. That seemed to shut her up for most of dinner.
Summary: Alexia ruins your couple's vacation by inviting the girls to tag along with you. You decide to make her pay for it.
Word count: 2.5k
Warning: (+18) a little bit of smut, suggestive; fingering (r giving)
A/n: because I'm a whore - part 2 here
..
You were going on a vacation to Mallorca with Alexia.
She had promised she would take care of everything: the hotel, the flights, the yacht, everything.
She told you not to worry about a single thing. So you absolutely didn't.
You just made sure to stay pretty, to pack the smallest bikini you had, to pack the strap, the lube, and the handcuffs into your bag.
Alexia had grinned while watching you pack. She came from behind, biting your earlobe and promising she would worship you every day of the vacation.
That she would put you in so many positions you wouldn't even remember all of them.
She said she would eat you out on the private beach she had booked.
That she would finger you in the middle of the ocean, have your mouth wrapped around her strap on the sun deck of the yacht.
You trusted Alexia deeply. So you thought she would keep her word.
Your face fell flat the second you arrived at the airport with her and saw not only Patri and Ona, but Jana and Bruna there too, suitcases in their hands and bright smiles on their faces.
You couldn't help but feel confused by the coincidence.
They were travelling too? To Mallorca? Wow. Small world, right?
You were hesitant as you greeted the girls, but you did your best to be nice. They were, after all, your and Alexia's friends.
"I'm so excited!" Jana said as the little group made their way toward the flight. "It's been so long since I had a vacation."
Alexia's hand was on your back, but she was weirdly quiet. Too quiet.
"Oh yeah," you said, watching Alexia out of the corner of your eye. "You guys totally deserve this vacation. The season was really hard."
"Definitely," Patri said, smiling at you, the sound of her suitcase wheels somehow managing to irritate you. "I can't remember the last time we had a vacation with all of us together!"
You stopped in your tracks. Alexia bumped into you, her hand catching your waist so you wouldn't fall.
"Ay, amor," she said grumpily. "Qué fue?" [Love, what's wrong?]
"What do you mean… 'all of us together', Patri?" you asked in a very calm voice, very deliberate.
"Umm…" Patri looked at Alexia, then back at you.
"Us? Like me, you, Alexia, and the girls? We were so happy when Alexia called and asked us to tag along, it's hard only seeing each other at training…we need some quality time together as a team"
Quality time together as a team?!
Your world shattered right in front of you.
You always thought people were being dramatic when they said they saw red when they were angry.
But you were definitely seeing red now, maybe because the capillaries in your eyes were expanding as your heart started hammering against your chest.
You felt your nails digging into your skin as you turned to Alexia.
"I think I'll go to the bathroom before we board," you said, not looking at anyone as you left your suitcase behind and walked off. You didn't even know where the bathroom was, you just…walked.
You just knew you needed to be alone, or else you would scream at Alexia in the middle of a crowded airport, and you didn't want to make a scene.
Alexia clearly didn't realise that you wanted to be alone for her own well-being, because she followed you like a puppy.
"Amor…espera, por favor," she said, walking after you. [love, wait, please]
If it were you, you would be out of breath by now, but because Alexia was annoyingly fit, her breathing and tone were perfectly normal.
She also caught up faster than you would have liked, her hand wrapping around your wrist as she pulled you into some corner of the airport.
You were alone now, but it felt like the room was crowded because the air was thick.
It was hard to breathe, like your lungs were collapsing. You often felt that when you held your anger in. It hurt your chest.
So you decided to snap, finally.
"What is your problem?" you asked, furious.
Alexia didn't even try to defend herself. Guilt was scattered all over her face as she leaned her back against the wall, her hands were still holding your wrists.
You didn't like being restrained (not like that), so you tried to set yourself free, but she didn't budge.
"You said it was an us vacation. As in, you and me, not you and your teammatmes."
"Lo siento…" she said, pouting in a way that made you want to bite her lips off (not romantically). [I'm sorry]
"I asked Patri for a cool hotel to stay in, and she asked why, and I told her we wanted to go on a vacation," she explained, as you kept trying to set yourself free.
"Then she said she and the girls were also planning a vacation there, and she looked so excited, and I didn't have the heart to tell her not to join us."
You didn't bother to answer Alexia.
In the end, you walked back to where the girls were still standing, waiting for you and Alexia to return. If they noticed anything weird between the two of you, they didn't say a word.
The flight was annoying.
Nothing bad happened.
There wasn't a crying infant. No kid was kicking your seat, and the food was actually good. But you were still so mad that you couldn't see anything good about it.
Alexia kept quiet–she was smart when she wanted to be.
She did, however, try to keep her hand on your thigh for most of the flight.
Every time she did, you would take it off and place it back in her own lap without saying a word. Without giving her any sort of attention.
When you got to Mallorca, you were still silent.
You only spoke to the other girls, asking Jana how she was doing, asking Bruna how her season in London was.
You didn't even bother to grab your suitcase or any of the other bags.
Alexia walked behind you like a camel, slower than everyone else, because she was carrying all the weight, but you didn't care.
Alexia had ruined your vacation, and you were going to make her pay for it.
Day One.
You arrived at the hotel. And of course, there were problems with Jana and Bruna's room.
In the end, Jana had to share the room with you and Alexia for the night while the staff sorted it out.
The lights were already off. Alexia was lying on the left side of the bed, and you were on the right.
You made sure to build a pillow wall between you (to Alexia's disappointment) to create some distance.
At one point, Alexia tried to sneak a hand onto your waist, but again, you gave it a little snap, and she retreated to her side of the bed with a quiet whine only you could hear.
Jana was curled up on the loveseat on the other side of the room, wrapped in a duvet.
Even in the dark, you could see the guilt written all over her face.
"I am so, so sorry," she said, her voice slightly muffled by her pillow. "I told the staff I could sleep in the lobby, but they said they couldn't allow it."
"It's okay, Jana, don't worry about it," you said, closing your eyes, trying to forget this whole trip was happening.
You should have listened to your sister. You should have gone on a family vacation. At least then, you wouldn't have created so many sexual expectations that were clearly not going to happen.
Now that it was night and you couldn't distract yourself anymore, you realised you weren't just annoyed.
You were sexually deprived.
You hadn't had sex with Alexia in two fucking weeks because of her stupid football calendar.
You had had to make do with your hand most nights, and it absolutely wasn't the same.
Now you were stuck on an island with Alexia and her teammates, and one of them was literally sleeping in your room.
You were just a girl with needs!! It was only fair that you felt this way.
The room was silent for a while, and you thought you might finally be able to sleep.
You even prayed that you would have a sex dream… Maybe then, you would get to experience some kind of sexual activity on this supposed vacation.
But apparently, Jana was not done making her point.
"But really," Jana continued, "I'm very sorry. If I knew the bugs in my room's mattress would mean I would be intruding on your and Alexia's privacy, I would have just slept there."
"With the bugs?" you asked, a bit grossed out by the idea.
"Yes," Jana replied seriously, as if she were ready to make that sacrifice. "I'm so, so–"
"Jana," Alexia said sternly, "shut up, please."
You felt yourself getting wet at Alexia's tone.
You liked it when she was stern. You liked it a lot. Although, of course, you weren't going to say it.
Day 2
You were at the hotel's pool.
Alexia was lying on the sun chair beside you.
She looked so incredibly delicious in her orange bikini that you wanted to put your mouth on every inch of her body.
You wanted a taste of her, and by the way she was looking at you, she wanted it too.
You watched as Bruna, Ona, Jana, and Patri played some kind of pool game; they were splashing water around and laughing like little kids.
That was when you felt Alexia's hand slide onto your waist.
In one swift motion, she pulled you into her chair, your was back pressing against her chest as she peppered your neck with light kisses.
It was intimate but not scandalous.
"Estás tan guapa," Alexia murmured in a low voice. "Muy, muy guapa." [You look so pretty/very, very pretty]
You hummed, tilting your neck to the left to give her more space. You felt her grinning against your skin.
"Fui una idiota por invitar a las chicas," she added. "Lo siento por eso." [I was an idiot for inviting the girls/I'm sorry for that]
You wanted Alexia so much.
There was nothing you wanted more than to grab her hand, drag her back to your shared hotel room (thankfully, the staff had fixed Jana's room situation that morning), and finally get Alexia all to yourself.
But no.
You couldn't get her off that easily.
As if Alexia were just an annoying little bug on your neck, you stood up suddenly, pulling her hands off your body. And, without a word, you threw yourself into the pool, completely ignoring her.
Alexia stayed behind in the sun chair, looking confused, but you didn't care.
You swam straight toward the girls.
"Are you guys playing Marco Polo?" you asked, wiping water from your cheeks. "I wanna play too."
..
You all decided to go out and eat at one of those restaurants on the beach.
You and Alexia got ready without saying a word. Well, Alexia tried to talk to you. You just weren't the one responding.
You were putting blush on when Alexia apologised for the ninth time that day.
"I'm sorry, bebé," she practically whined, which was a great contrast to the way she looked.
She was wearing a long, white dress, and her hair was in a bun. She looked deliciously mature.
"I'm not talking to you," you said, not even glancing at her reflection in the mirror as you continued to do your makeup.
"But it's our vacation," Alexia said. "You can't be mad at me forever."
"Not forever," you replied, putting on some red lipstick. "I'll be mad for the number of days I find necessary."
Alexia went quiet again, and you continued to get ready.
You put on your earrings, then your necklaces.
You were too preoccupied checking if your dress matched your silver accessories to realise Alexia had once again pressed herself to your back.
"Me gusta cuando te pones así, tan brava," Alexia whispered, her lips brushing soft kisses along your jaw. "Me pone tan mojada." [I like when you get mad/It makes me wet]
She took your hand and slipped it under her dress.
Your breath hitched when you felt the warmth of her inner thighs, and then she lifted your hand even higher, until you were cupping her cunt.
Her bare, very wet and very warm cunt.
"Te quiero tanto ahora, amor," Alexia said, pushing your hand further inside until your fingers were inside of her. [I want you so much right now, love]
You slid one finger in, then another.
You wanted to pull away (no, not really), but you couldn't take your eyes away from the mirror; you couldn't look away from the way Alexia's face was filled with pleasure behind you, as if she needed this.
Maybe she wasn't the only one who was sexually frustrated out of the two of you.
You started moving your fingers deeper each time, reading her expression to know what she needed.
If the frown between her brows tightened, then you would slow down, but if her mouth fell open, you would push in deeper.
You angled your fingers slightly, hitting that spot inside her that made her hips stutter, that made her sound a little less dominant, a little more dumb, a little more helpless.
"Por favor…" she murmured, her lips brushing the back of your neck. "Lo necesito…" [Please/I need it]
"I'll get you to the edge," you promised her, "but you're not gonna cum. Not tonight."
"No," Alexia shook her head as you pushed your fingers harder. "No, por favor…"
"Shhh," you whispered. "Enjoy it, baby."
Whenever you felt Alexia contract around you, you'd pull your fingers away, taking them to your mouth.
You would lick them clean, tasting her sweetness, then you would slide them right back inside her.
You edged her more times than you could count. You even felt a little sorry for her.
When her makeup was a complete mess on her face, and when tears began falling from her eyes, you finally decided to put a (partial) end to her misery :)
You pulled your fingers away completely without a warning. Alexia whined, but you didn't put them back this time.
You let Alexia lean against your back. Her thighs were still shaking.
You turned around and kissed her face, her cheeks, her jaw, her lips.
"Yo–amor!" she breathed, eyes fluttering closed. "I need to cum."
"Later," you promised. "We'll go to dinner, you'll behave, then we'll come back to this hotel and you're gonna fuck me with the strap until I drench the sheets, okay?" You took her jaw into your hands, making eyes contact with her.
"And then I'm gonna fuck you so good I'll have you squirting all over me. How does that sound?"
Alexia looked at you with those soft hazel eyes.
"Sounds great, mi vida," She said, sounding a little dizzy. "Anything you want."
Summary: You and Alexia swore up and down that you would never get involved with a teammate. But strictly having sex only after big matches wouldn't put that rule in danger, would it? aka another friends with benefits fic
Word Count: 7.5k
Warnings: +18 (SMUT) • fingering (r giving and receiving) • oral (r receiving) • scisorring • choking (very lightly ok) • idiots in love • kika knows it!! • mentions of alcohol
☆ A/n: I hope this silly fic can alleviate some wounded hearts out there <3
You and Alexia had crossed your hearts and promised you would never do this. You had mumbled that exact same oath against each other's lips a few too many times until it became pathetic enough that you both just accepted the reality you found yourselves in, time after time.
During interviews with reports or locker room conversations, you and Alexia always stood your ground: you two would never get involved with a teammate. You'd never let any form of attraction stand in the way of professionalism, both on and off the pitch. You would never blur the invisible lines you had set.
You were both too dedicated, too focused, too professional for that kind of distraction, right?
Alexia was captain, and you, though not wearing the armband, were a veteran, deeply and well respected by the club for your history, mainly for choosing to come back after a few years abroad.
And yet, here you were, a year and a half into an arrangement that would probably send Lacan into a coma if he tried to psychoanalyse it – all that suppression of desire, the carefully constructed distance when you were around other people, all those unspoken rules about when it was acceptable to want each other and when it wasn't. When you could touch, or kiss or fuck. When it was okay to need Alexia, when it was okay to feel needed by her.
Your unconscious was your worst enemy. It needed Alexia all the time. So you shut it up at the gym, at home devouring book after book, at random bars looking for girls that looked like Alexia.
Your agreement centred around sex. You both had agreed it would only happen after big wins.
That was the deal, as idiotic as it sounded for adults who had a significantly high sex drive and who wanted each other badly half the time. You had even sat down to discuss what would be considered "big wins", treating it like a business conversation. You settled "big wins" on "significant victories", meaning league titles, cup finals, semifinals, crucial matches like El clásico, etc.
After all those months of great sex, you were now properly conditioned. A Pavlov dog.
Wins equalled reward. Reward equalled Alexia in your bed, or you in hers, her wet mouth trailing up and down your body while your fingers explored her every inch.
May had been a very, very busy month; three domestic trophies hinted at a lot of sex. And by that you meant A lot ... hours!
All that built-up suppression meant you spent entire nights tangled together in each other, only taking breaks to keep your body functioning enough to keep going for more. You only ever stop if one of you fell asleep, or if the sun was up.
May 23rd was a different day, though. Barça had just won the Champions League. ;)
May was indeed an amazing month.
The private bar in the southern district of Oslo was packed with your teammates, their families, partners, friends and the coaching staff. The music was loud, maybe a bit too loud for your ears, and the drinks were flowing freely, spilling onto expensive shoes, as people enjoyed themselves in the open bar.
Everybody was riding the high of being crowned Champions of Europe, even the ones who hadn't even stepped onto the pitch. Case in point? Kika's mom. She was currently the unequivocal queen of the dance floor.
The vibe was entirely gregarious, thrilling, something that you couldn't quite pin down with a single word. You tried to find the vocabulary for it while sitting in a quieter corner of the room, the glass of the one single piña colada you had allowed yourself cooling the palm of your hand.
One drink was just enough to take the edge off, enough to make your skin feel warm and your thoughts just a bit hazy, dangerously hazy, perhaps. The bits of alcohol relaxed you, your shoulders dropped, your brain slowed your thoughts, and a smile came to your face a little more easily.
Reaching for something in the distance
So close you can almost taste it
Release your inhibitions
The lyrics faded out around you, only for the next song to start:
Want more and more, people just want more and more
Freed from desire
Mind and senses purified
Those were just a couple of the songs that had played over the ten minutes you had been sitting there. Their lyrics were a tad too ironic given your current situation. Or perhaps, it was just one of those things where mundane occurrences felt severely personal, your brain desperately searching for clues to validate your thoughts, emotions, and action… bla bla bla. You had long forgotten the specifics of that uni class you took on human behaviour and cognitive dissonance back in the US.
Right now, you were trying to use that mechanism to validate your feelings about Alexia, taking any song as a sign from the universe that it wants Alexia to be between your legs soon enough.
Alcohol – or maybe just the high of the win – made you hyperaware of her. You could sense her across the room, watch the way her lips moved as she talked to her friend Miriam.
Your silly, tipsy brain actually thought it could decipher every word coming out of her mouth, shaping them into sentences that stroke your ego. You wanted her to be talking to Miriam about you. So, your mind simply invented that reality. Things were easy when you were buzzed; everything was far too simple, rules were negotiable, and your need for Alexia felt entirely merited and legitimate.
See? cognitive dissonance. It was one of your finest hobbies lately.
You watch Alexia, observe her as she moved around.
The captain was in full extroverted mode; it was the version of her that only emerged after major titles. She was dancing with Vicky now, laughing and taking pictures with Patri.
She had a drink in hand, one you knew for a fact would be far too sweet, with a fake-strawberry flavour. You would taste it on your lips later tonight, you were sure.
During celebrations, Alexia drank just enough to get tipsy, too, but unlike you, her tolerance could handle more than a single, miserable drink. She would have four, maybe five max, before switching to virgin drinks.
A bad bunny song started, and Alexia tracked down that goddam trophy, which had been her sole fascination for the last three hours, and began dancing with it in her hand, her jeans hugging the perfect shape of her ass.
She was a stark contrast to her usual quiet, shy, introverted self. This version wasn't necessarily better or worse; it was just different. She was still Ale, and you, as much as you tried to fight it, were still hopelessly you.
And this version was the only Alexia you had ever slept with. The high-adrenaline, post-victory, almost but not quite drunk Alexia, who was loose, and confident, and commanding in a way that made your stomach flip with butterflies.
You had never had her on a random Friday after training, you painfully realised. You had never seen what she was like when the adrenaline wasn't pumping in her veins, when the victory wasn't so fresh and raw, when she was just... herself.
You wondered if the sex would be different. Would it be softer, maybe? Less intense and emotionally charged? Would she be equally warm and fervent?
Or would she be exactly the same, because sex with Alexia was never just sex. For her, it was a very complex game, a way to open somebody up. Alexia was almost clinical in her precision, almost obsessive in her attention to detail.
While you viewed sex as a means to an end, a way to get off, to give someone an orgasm, to feel good and make someone else feel good, Alexia treated it like a dance. A deep involvement, an act she took her absolute time with.
She always kissed every bit of your skin. Always listened to every sound, and learned your body like it was a mystery she needed to solve. And god, you wanted her to take her time with you tonight.
"You are sooo nonchalant about her."
You jerked your attention away from Alexia to find Kika standing beside you, a knowing smirk on her face. One that scared you. "Ahn? What? What are you talking about?"
Kika took a sip of her artificial pink drink, gesturing with her chin toward the captain, "You are staring at Miss Catalunya right there."
"I'm not staring," you said, taking a sip of your own drink to cover. "Don't be ridiculous. I'm just resting–"
"You absolutely are." Kika slid into the seat next to you without an invitation; her eyes were twinkling with mischief. "You have been staring at her for the past ten minutes."
"I'm just… people-watching, okay?" you countered. "And you must be staring at me if you know exactly how long I've been sitting here–"
"And does this people-watching always involve looking at Alexia like you want to rip her clothes off with your teeth, or–"
"Kika," you warned, your voice dropping low. "I'm serious! Stop acting silly. There's nothing like that between us, you know that. We are friends! Colleagues even!"
Lying was so easy at this point; your only real problem was that you were not nearly as convincing as needed to be.
The Portuguese held up her hand, laughing teasingly at your grumpiness. "Calma! I'm just saying… You two have been acting weird for months. Don't think the rest of us haven't noticed, we have eyes everywhere." [calm down]
Your stomach dropped. You could feel the hollow organ actually fall all slimy to your feet. "W-we have not, I–"
"You have, though, and everyone's noticed. Well… mostly the younger girls and me, but still." She leaned in conspiratorially; her voice was low, meant for your ears only, but it was hard to understand her over the loud music. "Something's going on. I know it. I can literally sense the love in the air every time you two are in the same room."
"Nothing's going on between me and Ale" you said firmly, even as your heart rate picked up. "And there is definitely no love involved either!"
Maybe there was love. Maybe. Just a tiny bit. But it was small, the size of a fly. You could step into it, and it would go away.
"Okaaaay, sure," Kika said, but didn't sound convinced at all. You couldn't blame her.
"But just so you know, if something were going on, I think it's cute, tá bom? You two would be great together…You know," Kika began narrating everything as if it were a story in a book and not your life she was talking about. "The two legendary Barça players who had known each other for an eternity, who won every single trophy in existence side by side! It's more romantic than Romeo and Juliet, if you ask me! Oh… I just hope you both get a better ending." Then her excited face dramatically dropped into a sad pout.
Before you could respond, before your brain could even figure out what the hell to even say to that, Kika was already standing up, patting your shoulder affectionately, and wandering off to join the dance floor.
You drained the rest of your piña colada in one long gulp. You needed air. So much air, more air than this bar could provide and more than your lungs could take in.
The bar was getting too warm, too crowded, too much. Kika was entirely responsible for tangling your neurons together, leaving you unable to think properly. And no, the pina colada had nothing to do with it, nor did the heating pooling low in your belly from your desperate need for Alexia.
You slipped outside to the small patio area, where the night air was cool and crisp and exactly what you needed. You almost wished it would rain, that a downpour would just wash over you. You were never one for dramatics, but tonight felt like the perfect time to start.
The team had been noticing.
But noticing what, exactly?
You and Alexia had been friends for years, more than ten. You had never seen each other as anything other than friends, and truth be told, you hadn't even been that close.
You had lost contact a few years ago when you moved to play for Orlando Pride. It was only two years ago that you signed back with the club of your life. Alexia had been dating someone else at the time, so she was completely off limits.
Still, you couldn't help but notice how she had grown into such a beautiful woman. She was just a couple of years older than you, but she always carried a bit of a baby face; now, at thirty-two, she had fully grown into her features.
It was after she tore her ACL that things changed, that massive injury and the long pause from football seemed to be when she lost the last trace of that girlhood softness. She was different now. Or maybe your eyes were just different.
Then she broke up with her girlfriend, and that's when it happened.
You had been out there for maybe ten minutes when the door creaked open behind you. You didn't need to turn around to know who it was; that strawberry scent from her drink mixed with her honey shampoo made it clear.
"Are we hiding now?" Alexia's voice was warm and amused. "I was looking for you, but you were gone."
"I just needed a break," you said, still facing away from her. "Too loud in there, no?"
You heard her footsteps, feeling her presence as she came to stand right beside you, close enough that you could almost feel the heat from her.
"Kika cornered you," Alexia said, and it wasn't a question. "I saw her. I thought about trying to save you, but…"
"She thinks something's going on," you said straightforwardly. "Actually, she is very certain of it. We should probably sit down and make up a very good lie about why we always seem to gravitate towards each other after a win."
"Huh, like right now?" Alexia murmured, her breath dangerously close to your ear.
"Like right now," you murmured back, turning to look at her.
"We have been careful, nena", Alexia said. Her eyes were bright, her cheeks flushed from dancing and alcohol. "But Kika is... observant."
"Too observant."
She looked at you, studying you. "Are you worried about it?"
You considered it for a moment, "I don't know. Maybe we should cool it for a while? The media and the girls will--"
"Is that what you want?" Alexia's gaze was suddenly sharpened. You knew better than anyone else that she did not like to be rejected. "To cool it?"
"No, I really don't," you admitted softly. "But–"
"We won the Champions League tonight," Alexia said, her voice all tender once again. She took a step closer, your bodies touching now. "That was the deal, wasn't it? Big wins? Sex right after?"
Your breath caught in your throat. "Yes, Ale. I know about our deal. It's just that–"
"Tell me you don't want this, and I'll go back inside," she said, and there was something vulnerable in her voice despite the confidence in her posture. "Tell me you want to cool it, and we will. I won't chase after you anymore, and we'll go back to being just friends."
You should say yes. Should tell her you wanted to stop, that this whole arrangement was getting too complicated, too risky, too dangerous for your own heart.
But all you could think about was the feeling of her hands on your bare skin, her wet mouth tracing patterns across your body, and the way she looked at you in the dark of the night as if you were something to be savoured.
"I don't want to cool it," you whispered finally.
Alexia's lips curved into a slow, beautiful, small smile. "Good. Because neither do I."
You managed to leave the bar separately. Alexia left first, claiming she was tired, and you followed about twenty minutes later. You didn't give anyone an excuse for your departure. At this point, you knew any lies you attempted would only make it obvious exactly what (or who) you were after.
No one seemed suspicious of Alexia. Or if they were, they were simply too drunk and ecstatic to care. Your absence went unnoticed, too; your phone remained blissfully silent in your pocket. You couldn't help but smile as you stepped into the back of a taxi heading towards the hotel.
When you finally reached her room on the seventh floor, you started the same careful dance you had performed a dozen times before. But tonight felt different. Maybe it was the magnitude of the win. Maybe it was the single pina colada loosening your inhibitions. Or maybe it was Kika's lingering comment about the two of you being good together, and all that silly nonsense about love.
Whatever it was, the moment Alexia opened the door and pulled you inside, all the growing tension ruptured into a kiss. Alexia kissed you with an intensity that made your knees instantly weak, and you felt something shift between you two.
This wasn't just a post-match reward anymore. This was something… deeper. It felt as if she wanted to prove a point, to show you that you couldn't live without her. That there was absolutely no way you could ever "cool things off".
Alexia took her time, she always did, but it felt even more deliberate… was it predatory? Her hands mapped every centimetre of your skin, as if she were trying to memorise your anatomy. Her lips followed the trail of her fingers, pressing heavy and bruising kisses into places that made you gasp, places that forced you to arch into her touch.
"Ale," you breathed, your fingers tangling in her hair.
"Shh," she murmured against your collarbone, her warm breath sending a shiver running through you, "Let me."
And you did.
You let her take you apart piece by piece, slowly and methodically. Every touch was calculated to draw a reaction. Every kiss was placed exactly where she knew it would make you completely fall apart.
It was overwhelming. It was perfect. You needed more. It was just not enough. It was also starting to feel dangerously less like just sex and more like something unnamed.
You pulled her face closer as Alexia lay naked on top of you, both of you letting out a moan, sharing the same shallow breath.
You and Alexia fit together with terrifying perfection, the alignment of your pelvis, the friction of bone against bone, the heavy brush of your breasts, the curve of your collarbones and shoulders. But above all, your mouth. Alexia slid her tongue into your mouth, and you sucked on it, reaching for me, demanding to taste her and that sugary drink that still tinged her tongue.
Alexia was a biter. Her lips nipped at your sensitive skin, leaving mark after dark mark against your throat, and she clearly did not give a damn if you would have to use concealer to hide them from the cameras and teammates tomorrow.
She did not care at all. The analytical and pragmatic version of herself melted while in bed; she let her instinct take over, and her instincts were flawless; she knew exactly where to suck, where to bite, where to slap, and where to caress.
You were so utterly lost too in the assault of different sensations that you barely realised that Alexia's hands had moved from your waist. Her fingernails were scratching your abdomen lightly, dragging downward.
You whined against her lips, wanting those hands on your thighs, wanting them inside you. You wanted her to fill the ache, only she knew how.
You had slept with other people in the months between your rendezvous with Alexia, but not a single one of the girls had been able to make you come properly. Eventually, you had just given up on everyone else entirely. None of them compared.
"You like it, no, nena?" Alexia's voice carried that inflexion of arrogance, the tone of a woman who knew what she was capable of doing to you. "You like it a lot. You have been thinking about me wanting you all night, haven't you?"
Her wicked words and even more wicked fingers were doing unspeakable things to your body, sending your pulse skyrocketing. Your jugular throbbed so violently beneath her touch that it felt as if it might burst if she didn't slide her hand lower soon.
"Tell me, corazón," Alexia murmured, her lips catching your earlobe roughly, biting down hard enough to make you whimper. "Let me hear your voice."
"I thought about you wanting me," you breathed, your legs trembling so badly you could barely manage to keep your thighs open.
"And what do you want me to do to you?" Alexia asked, you sensed her smile flutter against your pulse point, and God, you wanted her to bite you again.
Her fingers kept teasingly moving lower, tracing every part of your body, every birthmark, every scar, teasing and mocking your lack of control. You were going mad. Alexia's low voice and skilful fingers would be your undoing.
"You can do whatever you want," you panted. Alexia's smirk only grew; she deftly ran her tongue over one of the small bruises already flowering on your neck. "
"I've wanted you too, nena," Alexia whispered, calling back to what you said before. Her mouth was once again teasing your ear, and you wondered if that was her favourite spot. If not, it was a close second.
She let out a hot puff of air, nipping gently at the reddened skin. No amount of makeup was going to save you tomorrow. Everyone in the team would look at you and know someone had fucked you silky, leaving you this weak, this powerless, this beautifully undone.
They just wouldn't know that the someone in question was their captain. The captain who was currently branding you just like she always did. Alexia was a possessive little creature, and not-so-secretly, you enjoyed being hers.
"Ale, please" you moaned, your eyes closing shut as her fingers finally traced your inner thigh, slipping inside your pussy.
You were soaking for her. So pathetically wet for her.
Alexia let you accommodate to the depth of her two fingers, slowing down to press a line of small, sweet kisses against your lower lip, mindful of the previous bites she had left there just minutes ago.
There were such gentle, tender kisses that you trembled at the sheer affection of them. More often than not, you didn't associate softness with yourself, as if you didn't deserve it. So why was Alexia softer now?
"I want you all the time, corazón," Alexia whispered, her finger starting to move in a steady, agonising rhythm.
The sensation of her stretching you inside was overwhelming, the inaction burn instantly overtaken by the pure exaltation of relief. Finally, you had her.
Alexia continued to move her fingers in and out of your clenching pussy, her free hand coming up to rest flat on your neck. She applied the right amount of pressure. The devil-woman was very much aware of how much you loved choking, and, easy like that, she was commanding your body to come for her on the spot.
"Fuck me, please," you whimpered, shifting your hips as her pelvis pressed tightly against he own hand, driving the penetration even deeper. Dizzy. You were so dizzy.
"I am fucking you, bebe," Alexia murmured, her voice filled with satisfaction. "And I do my job so well, don't I?"
She curved her hand firmly around the base of your throat, restricting your air, making your vision grow pleasantly hazy as your blood flow constricted. "Like this. You love it when I hold you down, right?"
You let out a needy whimper, the words barely coherent, but Alexia understood it.
"Of course you like it, mi campeona," she smirked. She released the pressure on your neck as your cheek flushed a deep crimson, her thumb immediately caressing the sensitive skin she had just been dominating. "You are so wet… Tan mojada."
"I'm almost there," you pouted, hips twitching. "Please, please, I'm almost-"
"You want to cum?" Alexia asked, her eyes locked onto yours. "Want to soak my sheets? Drench my hands?"
"Please?" You begged desperately. "Can I?"
You could feel your orgasm closer. Her fingers moved faster, going deeper, searching for your own limit.
"Of course you can," Alexia whispered, her tone suddenly shifting into something so breathtakingly tender it hurt. "We just won the Champions League, amor. Mi amor. Tonight, you can have whatever you want."
Alexia moved her thumb, pinpointing a very specific spot on your clit, and within seconds, you were coming. The orgasm ripped through you, stealing every last drop of oxygen from your lungs.
You arched your back into her, trembling as she pulled her fingers out, only for her tongue to instantly swipe from your clit down to your slit. A gasp caught in your throat, and you weakly pushed at her shoulder.
"Too much," you mumbled, barely possessing the strength to resist; your arms were too heavy to move.
"Let me taste you, corazón," Alexia murmured against your wet folds.
You looked down through heavy-lidded eyes as she kissed her way back to your pussy. "I spent the whole day thinking about this. You taste, your scent… how badly I wanted my face buried in tu coño."
"Oh," you moaned, throwing your hand up to cover your face. The sensory overload was too intense; a second orgasm was already starting to build, just as intense as the first one. "Fuck, ale, it's too much-"
"Sh," she whispered against your heat, her tongue thrusting inside your entrance before lapping up at your wetness. "Don't fight it, nena. Just let it come to you."
"I can't," you cried out, trying to tilt your pelvis away, but Alexia stopped it, placing a heavy hand on your hip. "I can't I–"
"You can,' Alexia said, her voice not leaving room for you to fight her. "You can because I said so. I wouldn't be doing this if I didn't know you couldn't handle it. So just fucking lie there and come on my tongue."
Her words were the trigger you needed. Your walls clamped down around n her tongue, and your orgasm washed over you in a wave of translucent liquid. Wetting the bedding, ruining her sheet, coating your inner tights and her whole face.
"Joder," Alexia groaned, swallowing your release. She kept lapping at you, but now, the overwhelming pleasure was begging to cross the line into pain.
"No, no more, please," you whimpered, gently tugging at her hair to pull her up.
Aleixa immediately alleviated the pressure, kissing her way away from your clit, and pressing soft and soothing kisses on your inner thigh. "Just cleaning you up now, mi amor, sí?"
The feeling was so intense you didn't realise it wasn't the first time Alexia had called you amor tonight. But whatever, maybe she was just too pussy drunk.
"You are dripping everywhere," she muttered, her voice low. Her palm pressed firmer against your thigh, forcing wider over her shoulder so your pussy stayed fully exposed to her.
She dragged her tongue lower, circling your entrance before pushing inside just enough to make you clench. She continued to tend to your pussy, her tongue still warm, but incredibly tender now. Somewhere in the back of your mind, a voice whispered that she was doing that more as an act of self-indulgence than anything else.
"Tienes un sabor tan dulce," she mumbled against you. [You taste so sweet.]
You gasped, a sharp flare of oversensitivity striking you as she sucked gently on your outer lips, cleaning every trace of your release with wet sounds. Alexia kept lapping at your folds with slow strokes, her tongue dragging through the slick mess until your whimpers grew sharper again.
"Okay, okay, that's enough," she murmured, more to herself than to you.
She pulled, leaving what you thought was a final kiss right on your clit that made your hips twitch. She reached down for the Campeonas shirt crumpled on the floor, using the soft fabric to gently wipe between your thighs, soaking up the wetness.
Because she couldn't help herself, she pressed one more tender kiss right on your centre before moving up your body to face you. Her lips brushed your nose first, then claimed your mouth in a deep kiss. Her tongue pushed in to swirl around yours, forcing the taste of your own release across your palate.
"See? That's why I couldn't stop," she whispered against your lips. "See how you taste? Good, no?"
Your cheeks flushed hot. Your mind was hazy and slow to form proper thoughts.
"I get sensitive when I squirt," you mumbled, trying to explain to her why you had to end her fun so soon.
Alexia smiled. "I know," she said, tugging the duvet over both of you. "And cold too, if I remember correctly."
You lay there catching your breath while she peppered lazy kisses along your jaw and neck. Your hand trailed down the mattress, moving slowly until your fingers found her pussy, touching it without any hurry.
You slid one finger inside her easily, testing the slickness, and Alexia moaned low, her face pressing into your neck as her walls tightly clenched around your finger.
You cupped her face and drew her into another kiss, sliding a second finger alongside the first inside her dripping pussy. "You are wet, wetter than me," you whispered on her lips.
She let out a low chuckle. "That would be impossible, nena."
You smiled at her arrogance and rolled your eyes, then guided her head down to rest against your neck properly. Her body shifted naturally on top of yours, her thighs spreading wide so your hand could keep working between her legs without pause.
"Good?" you asked, brushing kisses across her flushed cheeks.
Alexia needed that slow, steady rhythm to build up her orgasm; she actually hated to be rushed when it was her turn to come. Your fingers already ached slightly from the constant motion, but you kept the pace even and deep.
"Uhum," she murmured, voice thick with desire. "Tan bona."
"Want one more finger?" you offered, your thumb circling her clit,
"Don't know if it will fit," she moaned, her hips grinding down to meet your hand, clearly betraying her own words.
"You're very wet, Ale. It will." You eased the third finger in gradually, stretching her open while monitoring every twitch and gasp she let out.
Once all three were buried knuckle deep in her pussy, you resumed the thrusts, curling and stroking her inner walls with consistent pressure that had her breathing turn ragged against your neck.
She clutched desperately at your shoulders, her thighs trembling as the tension finally snapped. Her pussy tightened around your fingers, pulsing hard through the orgasm while she buried her face deeper into the crook of your neck, muffling low words you couldn't quite understand.
You kept her hand still, letting her ride out her orgasm on your fingers until she finally softened.
She let out a chuckle. "Joder," she breathed, kissing your jaw before you slid off your hamd. "Fuck, gràcies."
Seemingly, she wasn't done with you… not close.
You let her take the lead again, guiding your body exactly how she wanted. There was such a beautiful duality to her, soft everywhere, yet her muscles stayed firm from all the training she had done through the years.
She spread your legs again, her eyes falling on you for a second before she dipped her head between them. When she sucked your clit into her mouth, a gasp left your lips. The pull was gentle, her tongue slow, while you sank helplessly back into the mattress.
It felt less like foreplay now and more like she simply wanted the taste of you; she wanted the closeness, wanted to consume you. Her low voice hummed against your skin as she worked on you all over again.
When she finally pulled away, her face was glistening. She bit into your inner thigh, then hooked your leg over her shoulder once more. She shifted up, lining her soaked pussy directly over yours.
The moment the wet heats fused together, you let out a collective groan. Alexia didn't wait to accommodate herself; she started rocking her hips, grinding her clit against yours in a perfect slide. She was dripping.
"Ohh," you moaned, eyes locked on the way your slick folds pressed and parted with every roll of her hips. Every move of her made a wet, squelching and embarrassing sound that echoed through the hotel room. It sounded so devastatingly hot and prohibited; it only made it all more thrilling.
"Yes, Ale. Grind against me, bebé."
Alexia kept the pace slow. Her chest was pressed against yours, breast against breast. "So good… joder."
Her hip continued the motion relentlessly, your clit meeting every single time. She was pinning you down with her weight, taking everything you had to give her. "You feel so good, corazón–"
The friction was becoming too much, the heat far too intense. "Alexia… please!" You cried, tossing your head even further back into the pillows.
"Fuck," she panted against your lips while her pace became faster. "I'm close too, mi amor, fuck–"
Your walls spasmed first; you didn't know if it was the reason that triggered her orgasm, but Alexia shattered right after. She let out a loud cry into your mouth as her pelvis locked hard against yours, her body rigid as her orgasm took over. Underneath her, you were coming just as intensely, your vision already opaque, your mouth completely dry.
Slowly, you both relax, too much exhaustion in your muscles. Alexia's body collapsed fully on top of you; the poor thing was spent. You wrapped your arms around her back, welcoming her.
You didn't say a thing, but it was obvious that the invisible line you had feared crossing for so long had been blurred beyond recognition. Yet, as your eyes closed, all you cared about was that Alexia was sleeping next to you.
The sleep didn't last too long, though.
You woke up around thirty minutes later with the sensation of Alexia's fingers tracing lines across your shoulder blade.
"Hi," she murmured, her voice sleepy.
"Mhm," you mumbled, pressing your face directly into her (warm) neck. You were so sleepy, so tired. "Shhh, quiet."
She allowed you a few minutes of silence to properly wake up. But the moment she spoke again, she went right to the point, as if whatever was on her mind had made a home there for a long time.
"Ey nena, do you ever wonder…" she began quietly, breaking the comfortable silence, not quite looking at you, choosing to focus on the hotel's tv. "What would this be like if it wasn't just after wins?"
"Mhm? What do you mean?" you asked, rubbing your eyes and already knowing exactly what she meant. You had been torturing yourself with the exact thoughts at the club earlier, although you never articulated them.
"Just…" she trailed off. "I think I want to know what it would be like to be with you when we don't have to sneak around and hide in hotel rooms. Like… would the sex be different? Would we be different?"
Okay. Calm. Be calm!! It's happening!
"I ask myself that, too," you confessed to her, the conversation making you feel more awake.
"What do you wonder about?" Alexia asked.
You thought for a moment, picking up her hands and playing with her long fingers.
"Mainly if the sex would be softer. Maybe less..." You struggled to find the right word. "Less intense…? I feel like we try to give our absolute best and squeeze in every single position we can think of, simply because we only get to this a handful of times a season, you know?"
Alexia's lips curved into a small smile. "Oh, so you think I'm intense?"
"I think you approach sex like you are trying to win a prize." You rolled your eyes playfully. "Trying to win the gold medal."
"And is that a bad thing?" She asked, her eyes light narrowed.
"No, of course not," you said honestly, looking up to her, kissing her chin because why not? "It's incredible. You are incredible. I just..."
Alexia shifted, propping herself up on one elbow so she could look at you properly. "You just wonder if this is all we are. If this arrangement is all we can ever be."
Your breath caught instantly. "Yeah… exactly."
She was quiet again.
"I know we agreed this was supposed to be simple," Alexia said softly. "A way to... release tension after big matches. No complications and no real feelings, etc."
"...And now?" you asked, feeling a dangerous spark of hope.
"And now I think about you at the most random times," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I think about you during training. I think about what it would be like to have you in ways that have nothing to do with football."
You felt like you couldn't breathe, as if the oxygen in the room had dissipated. This is exactly what you had been unconsciously waiting months for. "Ale-
"But I'm also scared," she continued. "We both swore we would never do this. Never get involved with a teammate. And well…look at us."
"We're not... involved," you tried to say, even to yourself; it sounded weak. "Not really."
Alexia gave you a look that clearly said you were full of bullshit.
"Aren't we?" She asked, looking down at your naked body, only covered by the duvet. "This is as involved as I have been with someone in a while, nena."
You didn't have an answer for that; maybe it didn't exist. So instead, you reached up to her, wrapping your hand on the nape of her neck and pulling her down to kiss her.
The kiss was slow and tender; it was made to shatter every rule you both had ever made. There was still the faint taste of you in her mouth; you wished Alexia hadn't grown tolerant of that.
When you finally pulled apart, Alexia rested her forehead against yours. She was breathless and flushed and perfect. Suddenly, you wanted to completely claim her as yours.
"What are we doing, Ale?" you whispered in the dark. "What does it all mean?"
"I don't know," she admitted, her thumb lazily tracking your cheekbone. "But I want you, corazón."
"Even though it breaks every single rule we made?"
"I don't think I care about those rules, if I'm being honest," she chuckled. "They were kind os stupid."
You couldn't help the smile that escaped you. "That is so very unlike you, capitana. You live for rules, don't you?"
"I think I live for you more," she said suddenly.
The words hung between you.
You could see the exact moment Alexia realised what had just slipped past her lips, the way her eyes darkened with a flicker of panic.
You would think it was a rehearsed line with how easily she said it, but it was an accident. A truth that had been suppressed.
"I—" she started, and her posture stiffened, as if she wanted to take every single word and swallow it down.
"Don't," you interrupted her spiralling, moving your hand to cup her jaw. "Don't take the words back, bebé. Say them properly."
"What?" she breathed, looking tapped.
"Say it again. Please, Ale."
Alexia's expression softened, and she closed her eyes and swallowed hard. "I love you," she whispered. "Te quiero, corazón."
Your heart was doing somersaults, and a wave of warmth took over your body. "Te quiero, Ale."
"Sí?" She asked, eyes wide.
"Yeah." You pulled her into another kiss "I think I have for a while now, but I didn't have the courage to say it."
"Me too," Alexia murmured. "I kept trying to convince myself it was just physical, just the arrangement, the adrenaline, but it wasn't."
"It never was, right?" You were staring at her pink lips.
So sweet they were.
Your sweet, sweet girl.
You stayed like that for a long time, just holding each other, processing what you had both just admitted.
"So what do we do now?" Alexia asked after you both had taken a shower and had something to eat.
"I'm not sure," you murmured, getting even closer to her. "This is... complicated, no? A bit humiliating considering we always went out of our way to talk about how we would never be with a teammate?'
"I think we are hypocritical," Alexia agreed, smiling.
"The team will definitely think that, too," you said, already imagining the teasing.
"They will probably be insufferable about it," Alexia said, her eyes as lifeless as yours, thinking about the future teasing. She didn't handle teasing very well. "Especially Kika… she scares me sometimes."
You laughed. "We are big girls. I think we can handle Kika and the others."
"Yeah, you are right," Alexia said slowly. "But also, I don't think I care that much…"
You pulled back to look at her. "No? You hate it when the kids make fun of you."
"Yeah, I don't appreciate much of the team banter, but when it comes to us… We are professionals, aren't we? We've proven that years ago. This… thing between us hasn't really affected our performance. If anything, we have won more since we started having sex."
"That's... probably not a correlation we should mention to the team, though," you said, your index finger to your chin.
Alexia grinned. "Probably not."
"So you want to... what?" You asked. "Tell them? Make this official? Or let them figure it out on their own.
"It would be nice for us to tell them… eventually. But right now–" She pecked your lips. "–I just want to see where this goes. No more rules about only having sex after victories, no more pretending this is just physical… just us, okay?"
"Okay," you smiled. "I think I like us a lot."
"Good." Alexia kissed you again, softer "So... does this mean I can take you to dinner? On a proper date."
Now you were properly grinning. "Only if it's an Arabic food place."
She rolled her eyes. "Deal."
"And then," you continued, kissing her chin, then moving to her neck. Your hand came to her waist as you straddle her hips, your breast right in front of her face, you could see she was trying to look in your eyes, and not down. "Maybe we can find out what it's like to have sex when we aren't tipsy or on an adrenaline high…?"
Alexia smirked, her hand tracing your side up and down, until she settled on your hips. "It would be a lovely discovery, wouldn't it?"
"Yeah," you nodded. "It would. I think we would be slower and–"
"Soft?" She suggested.
"Yes," you said, bringing her thumb to counter the shape of your lips. "I think we have a problem, though… I might be too eager to wait till them."
In the end, you did find out, right then.
And it turned out that Alexia, without the victory high, was, if possible, even more devastating. She was indeed softer, sweeter, but just as intense.
Somehow, the sex was even better.
The end.
Or is it?
Three Weeks Later
"I fucking knew it!" Kika crowed when you and Alexia finally, officially told the team, after they caught you kissing in the locker room when you thought no one was around.
"We all knew it," Vicky said, looking entirely too smug.
"I didn't know," Patri said, looking genuinely surprised. "Why didn't anybody tell me!?"
"How could you not?" Clara asked, just as surprised. "They used to disappear after every big game to do… god knows what."
Alexia rolled her eyes, but she was smiling, at ease. You loved seeing her like that, relaxed and soft.
"So you are really together?" Patri asked, eyeing you both suspiciously. "Like, for real?"
"Yep!" you confirmed, popping the P.
"It was about time," Kika said. "The sexual tension was exhausting to watch… it was getting seriously depressing,"
"It really was," Ona agreed. "We thought about playing cupid to see if we could bring you two together… but it seems that Oslo did that just fine."
The defender winked, and Alexia's face heated up, but then her smile slowly turned into a grin.
"It was a very good night, indeed," Alexia said, kissing your temple.
A/n: Honestly I only wanted to write the smut, but I feel like it needed a bit of context around it, that's why the scenes might feel a little bit disconnect?
