Sawyer drops Natasha off at her apartment, helps her up the metal steps to the front door of her apartment.
"It seems inconvenient for you to drive back across Boston now. Do you want to stay tonight and get take-out?"
Sawyer freezes in the doorway. She likes Natasha's apartment. It's cosy and messy and interesting. The sofa reminds her of crashing out drunk that first time. The bed reminds her of coming harder than she has with anyone else before. The kitchen reminds her of plating take-out for them both, cracking open a bottle of Coors for herself, and fancy Italian pop for Natasha.
Suddenly it feels much less welcoming, much more Little Shop of Horrors. She imagines the scene unfolding, Natasha snorting off the coffee table, stumbling across to the couch, t-shirt slipping down on one shoulder. She imagines the nubs of Natasha's spine showing through her skin as she shivers and shakes. She pushes the thoughts away, Natasha would hate to know she'd imagined such gratuitously voyeuristic scenes.
Natasha rubs her hand around Sawyer's waist. Her fingers are firm and capable and bring her back to the present.
"I've never used drugs in this apartment, and I've been better at asking for help since I've lived here. This has always been a good place for me."
Natasha's face is lit by the cheap electric light. She looks tired, but so beautiful. Her sharp cheekbones, her full mouth. Those green eyes. Sawyer aches for her.
Natasha folds her hand over Sawyer's shoulder, "I love you. Let's go to bed."
Natasha is solemn as she takes Sawyer's hand and leads her to the bedroom. They sit on the bed and kiss like shy teenagers. It takes a long time for the warmth in Sawyer's stomach to bloom. She tries to stop her thoughts by concentrating on each sensation individually. Natasha's eyelashes are tickling her cheek. Underneath her hand, the mattress is sagging. Natasha's pointy nose is pressing into hers. She can smell perfume and hairspray and old sweat on Natasha's sheets. The room is cold, a draught is coming from under the door. Natasha's hand is gripping the bottom of her hair, wrapping it around her hand.
Natasha's fist is twisting to wrap another loop of Sawyer's long hair around it, she can feel it faintly in her scalp. Natasha's fist is twisting again, and now each hair on Sawyer's scalp is a tiny pin prick of pain. Natasha's fist is twisting again, and Sawyer actually cries out into her mouth this time. She feels Natasha's lips turn up against her own. Suddenly, the warmth in her stomach arrives full force, and she squirms on the bed, pressing her thighs together.
Natasha bends over Sawyer, roughly pulling her left breast out of her top and sucking strongly on her nipple. They won't both fit through the neckline of her top, and she doesn't want Natasha to try and stretch the cotton so she slaps her hand away and strips her own top off quickly. Natasha's predictably on her in seconds, scooping them out the soft, non-wired bra she wears for travelling.
Natasha pushes Sawyer's breasts together, gives toothy kisses all down her cleavage. When she lets them fall apart there are two red half moons on each breast. Natasha likes to push her tongue down Sawyer's cleavage, pointing and wriggling it to try and get deep enough to lick the pale skin between her breasts. She laves big, sloppy circles around Sawyer's nipples and makes content sounds as they harden in her mouth.
Sawyer thinks she's ridiculous. She's had many lovers that were a bit overawed by her breasts, but the sheer, childish joy that Natasha takes in them surprises her every time. When Natasha burrows underneath them and lets them sit on her face for a moment, it feels nice enough. But when Natasha rubs her tongue across her nipple like that, it goes straight to her pussy. Within minutes she's shuddering, holding Natasha firmly by the back of the neck so she can't move.
Sawyer thinks she might give Natasha a little show tonight. She whispers to Natasha to get the rest of her clothes off, and efficiently strips off the rest of hers too. She knows where Natasha keeps everything now, and she pulls out Natasha's strap on from her drawer, tosses it to Natasha on the bed while she goes to freshen up.
Natasha has piled all of her pillows behind her and is reclining, the silicone standing up from between her legs. She's pulled the webbing straps so tight that there are little bulges of skin where they criss-cross her soft hips.
Sawyer kneels on the bed, starts to swing her leg over Natasha.
"Can I - I want to lick you first."
Sawyer smirks, walks up the bed on her knees. Natasha slides down the pillows to meet Sawyer. Sawyer widens her knees further so Natasha doesn't have to crane her neck up into Sawyer. She worries for a second that her one longer labia might flop down into Natasha's mouth, but the worry disappears when Natasha kisses it and then laps over her clit. Natasha keeps her tongue soft and wide, licks stripes up Sawyer's vulva again and again until her knees give out, sliding down further and further onto Natasha's face until Natasha splutters a laugh up into her and puts her hands under Sawyer's thighs to keep her up.
Sawyer begins to shift her hips back and forth over Natasha's face, feeling the bump of Natasha's nose and the rumble of her moan as Sawyer moves. The warm flooding sensation is building, pooling in
