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When Amaya had said, “Can you rub my back?” Zari had, for the most part, figured she’d meant some light shoulder rubbing. Over-the-shirt palms pressing against the middle of Amaya’s back kind of gentle rubbing.
So Zari had said, with all the good intentions in the world, “Yeah, of course.”
Then Amaya had whipped off her shirt, plopped onto her bed, stomach down, before Zari could even really appreciate her boobs, and had said, “Great, can you start on my lower back? It’s really sore.”
And now Zari is standing here, wondering if she should go get some lotion or something, and all she’s been able to manage is, “Oh.”
Amaya has her arms folded just under her pillow, turning her head to Zari, hair falling over her prone shoulder. “Well?” she says. “You can light a candle, if you want.”
“You can’t just spring a romantic back rub on a person,” Zari decides. “I mean, you can if you’re the one giving the massage but I thought you just wanted me to like, dig my fingers into you a little bit and then you got mostly naked and-“
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Amaya says, coy, not sorry at all. “I wanted to relax. Do you not want to touch me?”
“Shut the fuck up,” Zari replies, ignoring the little goosebumps she gets when Amaya smiles at her, full of self-satisfaction. “Your candles are in your desk drawer, right?”
“I’m feeling something with cinnamon,” Amaya says, pressing herself more firmly into the mattress. “But not fall cinnamon. Like a festive cinnamon.”
“I don’t know what that means,” Zari says. When she pulls open the desk drawer, she’s greeted by approximately twenty or so candles, and it smells like one of those 2017 mall stores they had before malls were claimed by ARGUS as gathering places. One of those bath stores. ARGUS had hated bath stores.
“Zari?” Amaya asks.
“Remember who you were before you found out scented candles were a thing?” Zari asks, picking up a red one. It has the word “Autumn” in it, so that won’t do.
“Sad. Desolate. Despondant,” Amaya offers.
“No, you were the same, but your room didn’t always smell like a-“ She purses her lips. “What’s the store with the soaps?”
“Which one?” Amaya asks.
“You know,” Zari says. “They have all the soaps in different colors.”
“Baths and Bodies,” Amaya says, confidently. “No, wait. It’s Body Bath. Sara worked at- Sinks and More, I think, so the soap store is… Bathing Works. That’s got to be it.”
“I genuinely have no idea,” Zari says. “I don’t even know why I asked you.”
“Because I know things!” Amaya says.
“Hey, do you still use Sara’s employee discount for scented candles even though she quit?” Zari asks, now trying to choose between “Cinnamon Glow” and “Gooey Snickerdoodle.”
“A discount is a discount, Zari,” Amaya says. “Not using coupons is immoral.”
“You are so old,” Zari says, putting Gooey Snickerdoodle on the desk and digging around for a book of matches. “Your room smells like mothballs and snickerdoodles”
“If you don’t like it, you can sleep somewhere else,” Amaya teases.
“Well,” Zari says. “Maybe not mothballs.”
“Come toooouch me,” Amaya whines. “My back is stiff.”
Zari sits down next to her, running her palm up along the curve of Amaya’s spine.
“Get closer,” Amaya says. “You can straddle me, if you want.”
Zari spares her a look. “You are so-“ She swings her leg over Amaya’s hips, resting her weight on her knees and not on Amaya’s butt. “Needy.”
“I just want a back rub,” Amaya says, pouting into her pillow. “Maybe you’re being withholding.
“Do I need lotion for this?” Zari asks.
“Eh,” Amaya says. “Your hands are already soft. It’s fine.”
Zari takes a moment to consider this by walking her fingers up and down Amaya’s flanks. “No one’s ever told me that before.”
“Well it’s true,” Amaya says. “You’ve been taking good care of yourself.”
“You take care of me,” Zari replies. “You just never taught me how to-“ She rubs the heels of her hands at Amaya’s shoulders. “Give a massage.”
“Be firmer,” Amaya says. “You won’t hurt me. I want to feel it.”
Zari puts more of her weight into her hands, taking in the tension in Amaya’s upper back, the knots she can feel twisted between her neck and her shoulders.
Zari pushes too hard, and Amaya hisses in pain, bucking her hips up. “Sorry,” Zari says. “Sorry, shit- I’ll-“ She leans forward, kissing the spot where the knot is, using her other hand to steady herself. She can feel Amaya’s breath on her fingertips, and when her lips leave Amaya’s skin she notices the faintest goosebumps. “Maybe, uh, Gideon has something for the real stuff,” Zari continues, sitting back up. “Like your bad knots. I can just-“
“That’s good,” Amaya says, as Zari more softly rubs circles around her shoulders and downwards, just enough to work out some tension. “I like that.”
“You’re warm,” Zari says, and she would pause at the observation but she’s too into the feeling of Amaya under her hands, the way she relaxes with every gentle breath she lets out.
“Mn,” Amaya offers, dropping her shoulders. “You.”
Zari shifts her knees back, thumbs press along Amaya’s spine. She gently pushes outwards against the line of it, working her way down. “I only really know how to rub and how to do like, this.”
“That’s fine,” Amaya says. “I like it.”
Her thumbs reach the small of Amaya’s back. Instead of pressing in, she finds herself drawing small circles, then wavy lines that dip into the dimples of her back. She repeats the motion back inward, resting her hands. “Am I supposed to get horny from this?”
“Are you?” Amaya asks, faintly above a whisper. Zari is struck suddenly by the trust of it, how deeply relaxed Amaya is around her.
“Yeah,” Zari says. She rubs the heels of her hands in circles, working back up, leaning farther and father forward as she does. It feels silly, her hips still in the air above Amaya’s own, her chest almost against Amaya’s back. “I could uh- I could really fuck you, just like this.”
“Mm,” Amaya replies. “Could you?”
Zari moves her weight to her side, shifting to Amaya’s left, off her back. “I want to do things to you,” Zari says. “If you want.”
“Yes,” Amaya says, Zari now just idly stroking her back. “Do things.”
“You’re like,” she wraps her arm around Amaya’s waist, rolling her onto her side, pressing against her. Her hand immediately cups Amaya’s chest with a mood Zari could almost call possessive. “Squishy. You make me feel all gooey inside.”
Amaya lets out a delicate moan as Zari’s fingers press in patterns against the softness of her breast. “I feel so good,” Amaya manages, insistently pushing herself against Zari’s hand.
Zari nuzzles the back of her neck, kissing the nape, moving to where her back begins, against her shoulder. “I love you,” she murmurs. “I need you.”
“Need,” Amaya repeats, wiggling against Zari’s hips.
“Get on your knees,” Zari says, nudging her, and Amaya languidly rolls into the asked position.
“Can I just-“ Zari rolls down the fabric of Amaya’s soft black sweatpants, noting that Amaya has so lazily fallen into her haze of lust that she barely lifts her knees. Zari lets herself chuckle at that. “Spoiled.”
Amaya responds by moving just a little further back, showing Zari how pretty her body is, knowing Zari can never resist going between her legs.
“Oh,” Zari repeats, thinking about how wet she is herself. She falls onto her hands, her lips greeting Amaya’s clit in a kiss. “Oh, Amaya, you’re so-“ Her tongue unfolds, as relaxed as Amaya is, never as happy as when she is licking Amaya’s pussy.
“Just like that,” Amaya says, trying to goad Zari’s tongue. “Rub me right there, user your tongue harder, please-“
The candle is nearly out of wick.
Zari slips her tongue inside Amaya, the best place ever, the softest, sweetest spot.
Amaya cries out in pleasure, falling forward onto her shoulders. “So good,” she says, moaning. “Zari it feels so good-“