She digs through the carefully folded lingerie that Sawyer keeps alongside her sex toys, before stumbling on something she's never noticed before.
It's long and slim, soft pink, and ends in a wide suction cup.
“What,” Natasha says slowly, “is this?”
“Oh!” Sawyer giggles. “It’s just something that I used to use when I wanted to be fucked properly and there's no-one around to do it for me.”
Sawyer gives that sly smile that pushes her round cheeks up. “I used it more when I was seeing Regina.”
Natasha’s own cheeks heat. The corners of her mouth twist into a slow, smug smile.
“Oh, really?” Natasha says archly.
“Yes, really.”
“So why was it at the top of your drawer?”
Sawyer rolls her eyes. “I used it the other week when you were at Luce’s poetry thing.”
“I remember that! I came over afterwards and we watched four episodes of Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt and cuddled, then went to bed early.”
“Yeah, well, you never fuck me after poetry,” Sawyer says.
“I don’t even like poetry!” Natasha retorts.
“You always come back all tender and pensive! You let me listen to Lucius and ate me out for like an hour. And that just wasn’t what I was in the mood for.”
Natasha can’t believe any woman would complain about that, but feels a bit lightheaded at the thought of Sawyer alone and desperate, finding new and better ways to fuck herself harder, deeper.
“What were you in the mood for?” Her voice is dark.
Sawyer is getting flustered and it’s delicious. Her hands are balled up on top of her duvet, pressing down hard so she can rear up in agitation.
“I told you, to be fucked properly.”
Natasha flashes her teeth. She hauls herself back from the hanging over the edge of the bed. She holds the plastic in one hand, but grabs Sawyer’s ankle with the other. It’s hot to the touch.
“And you think that this would do a better job than me?” She says deliberately coolly. She loosens her hold on the dildo so she’s just holding the base between her thumb and fore-finger. She lets it dangle like a pendulum in front of Sawyer’s face.
Sawyer tucks her chin into her chest. It gives her a double chin and Natasha wants to kiss it.
Sawyer gives Natasha a narrow-eyed glance from under her lashes, “Well, sometimes.”
Oh, she’s going to get it.
Natasha says calmly, “I think you better get on the floor, don’t you?”
It’s not a real question.
Sawyer swings her legs out of the bed, and kneels down for Natasha. Natasha pats her shoulder as she goes down, and tosses a pillow after her.
“Do you stick it to the mirror on your closet door?” she asks.
Sawyer nods.
“And do you stay on your knees?”
Sawyer nods again.
“Shuffle on back to the mirror then.” Natasha’s mouth is dry.
Sawyer does, and while she’s moving the pillow under her knees, Natasha stands to pass her the dildo.
“You have to fucking close your eyes or something while I get this ready!” Sawyer hisses.
Natasha is always surprised by the way that Sawyer can switch between glassy eyed compliance and her usual ill-tempered self.
“Chuck me the lube as well, eh?” Sawyer continues.
Natasha gropes blindly by the night stand and rolls the bottle of lube to Sawyer across the floor.
She hears the squelch of the pump, and then the noise of Sawyer squashing the base of the dildo onto the smooth surface. After that there’s a bit of a shuffling noise, followed by Sawyer cursing.
“You can open your eyes now,” Sawyer says sullenly, like she’s got places to be.
Natasha opens her eyes and her stomach flips.
Sawyer is on her hands and knees, breasts loose and just begging to be cupped. Her face is mostly covered in curls, Natasha can only see her defiant eyes burning through the strands.
Natasha watches the mirror as Sawyer presses back on the silicone. The two white globes of her ass look massive as they approach the mirror. Natasha's eyes flicker desperately between Sawyer's actual ass, and its mirror image. She can't stop thinking about what it would be like to have two Sawyers, pressing their bodies together for her gratification. That definitely probably makes her a bad feminist. As Sawyer takes in the last couple of inches of the toy her buttocks squash further out, taking up most of the glass.
Sawyer sucks her breath in sharply as her skin meets the cool glass. Natasha is hypnotized. She keeps watching the mirror for the flashes of Sawyer’s deep pink pussy between her white thighs. There are brief flashes of the even pinker toy too, its length shining with Sawyer’s wetness.
Natasha knows that she has slept with more women, and men, than Sawyer. But Sawyer has had long term partners that Natasha has not. Women that she has almost lived with. Women that have flown all the way to Europe and back with Sawyer, women that have thrown her surprise birthday parties. Women that have spent years honing their sexual praxis with Sawyer. Natasha’s jaw won’t close, her eyes are dry from staring. Her clit is throbbing. She knows she has to do something
