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Delicate moments of silence were once something that Lynn had once felt precious towards. Often sought after, but rarely found between long hours of barked orders and even longer hours of being a mother. Fulfilling with the bustle and weight on her shoulders, keeping those small quiet minutes valuable and essential. Something to cherish.
Suffice to say, a lot can change in a few years.
Lynn’s not sure when it began, only that the quiet had begun to eat at her, claw at her from the cold recesses of her chest. If the world itself decided to spare her, the storm of thoughts in her own mind would never have the same consideration, would keep her up late at her daughter’s bedside, biting back the sobs low in her throat so as to not wake her.
The pills helped. Lynn had struggled to remember what it feels like to go a day without them. It might’ve been reasonable to consider the problem in that fact alone, but she’d kept the blinders up, found a practiced but heavy ease in every day without the added burden of emotions felt deeply.
Amanda had thrown a bit of a wrench in the works, though. If there’s anything Lynn can count on her for, it’s complicating the situation.
There are times that Lynn regrets allowing herself to be so easily swayed, told straight to her face that she needed to do something, fix herself. Mostly, though, she’d been too busy wishing for respite, fighting desperately to block out the subconscious urge to get better, to have her life back. It had been gradual. Amanda was never the type to stick her nose where it didn’t belong, not with anything at stake, at least. It’d been an acknowledgement, a begrudgingly granted concern, that had brought Lynn to this point.
The one thing Lynn can say she misses about being heavily medicated, with confidence, it's a good night’s sleep.
There’s nothing but the sound of the rain, the occasional car drifting by on the streets. Lynn lays there, wakeful, staring at Amanda’s sleeping form in the bed next to her, lit in soft amber from the light on her nightstand. Warm and secure, snoring softly as she dozes. It’s a prettier sight than the men she’s been subject to sharing her bed with in the past, peaceful in a way that Amanda is not known to be.
It hadn’t been easy at first. Between Amanda and Corbett, rarely did one night go by without someone crawling into Lynn’s bed with a nightmare, a routine that stretched several years, several homes. Amanda had been the only one to become a permanent fixture there.
Lynn had never thought that she’d find herself on the other side of the issue, wishing she had someone to go running to. She supposes Amanda will have to be enough.
There’s a quiet grumble, a shifting as Amanda rolls closer. Slings one arm over Lynn’s stomach, huffs a long exhale against her shoulder. It’s nice to imagine that Amanda is awake for this, holding her because she knows that Lynn needs it. Lynn would never dream of waking her, though. She’s come to appreciate the small successes, a night gone without stirring, without another dream and a name on Amanda’s lips other than Lynn’s own. Without shivering lungs and frigid cold fingers, tremors and sobs and pleas answered with little more than a hand on Amanda’s back and hushed whispers.
It’s all she could do.
Lynn brings her arm up around Amanda’s shoulders reflexively, holds her just slightly closer to her chest. It’s surreal, sometimes, to think of how far they’ve both come, for it to be so easy.
The noises Amanda makes in her sleep have come to be a small respite from the complete and utter weight of the silence. Rarely disruptive enough to shake Lynn from sleep whenever she does get there, but sweet, endearing. It’d been disturbing at first. Lynn’s first instinct for the longest time had been to wake her immediately, to try and save her from herself, whatever terrible dream had her so shaken up. It’d been equal parts embarrassing and relieving to see Amanda staring at her like she’d grown a second head, only frustrated to be bothered.
Tonight, she’s more active than Lynn has been accustomed to. It’s nice in a way, reminds her that Amanda is alive, breathing, moving. Not only there, but also present, tangible, still herself where she’s pressing up tightly to Lynn.
There’s another noise from Amanda, a muffled sort of whine, quiet and short. Lynn’s eyes are on her, then, vigilant and concerned. She should know to trust Amanda, to know that she’ll wake up eventually if it’s a problem, that she can handle herself. There’s no need to keep babying her. It’d only be a bigger strain, causing problems come morning, especially if Lynn tries to ask her about it.
Lynn resigns herself to her fate, reaching up to stroke through the soft hairs at the base of Amanda’s neck. It’s a soothing gesture done almost entirely in self interest, eyes falling shut as Amanda huffs another shaky breath against her neck. Lynn’s expecting her to start crying soon, maybe wake up, maybe tell her all about it. Make this late night a little bit less insulting, less useless.
Instead, Amanda’s breath hitches, and Lynn can only furrow her brow when she feels Amanda’s hips roll against her side. It’s a slow movement, but Amanda’s thigh is over hers, tightening down and holding her there as she moves again, breathes a shuddering sigh.
Lynn’s heard that sound, but only a few times. Never in this setting. Never with Amanda helpless to stop herself.
It’s a frightening thought, all of the hypotheticals. How would Amanda react if Lynn woke her? Should she just let this continue, ignore it? Let it run its course? She’s rarely the type to be shy about sex as an aspect of herself, but she cares a borderline worrisome amount for Amanda’s comfort and wellbeing. She knows that it wouldn’t go over well at all if she let Amanda bear it alone, should she ever find out about this.
It has Lynn’s heart pounding heavily in her throat, growing worse only as she feels Amanda, half-hard and hot prodding against her, slow but uncoordinated, clunky. She’s never felt guilt for thinking about Amanda in this light, only cared that both their needs were met without any unnecessary problems, but this has an uneasy feeling simmering low in Lynn’s stomach.
There’s a breathily sighed murmur of something that sounds like a sentence half-baked, likely nonsense. It’s the final push over the edge, and Lynn takes Amanda by her shoulder, shakes her lightly. Prays that the backfire of this decision is not spectacular in its proportions.
“Mandy? Mandy, wake up, sweetie,” Lynn urges, quiet enough to keep her from startling, she hopes.
She’s met with a groggy noise, questioning. Amanda’s only become a heavier sleeper as the time has passed, barely responsive as Lynn pushes some hair from her face. She has this look like she’s just been on a bender in the city, hasn’t slept for three days. Eyes half open, droopy, she blearily glances up.
“What is it?” It’s barely audible, words slurred together and whispered, half-obscured by where her face is still pressed to Lynn’s shoulder.
“You were, ah…”
Lynn’s hopeless to explain the situation without sounding confrontational, accusatory. Or at the very least, what she knows Amanda would perceive as those things. She wraps her arm around Amanda tighter, doesn’t look her in her eye when Amanda lifts her head to rest her chin against Lynn’s collarbone.
“I think you were having a dream.”
She leaves it at that.
“...Did I wake you up?” Amanda asks, words barely strung together. She looks guilty where Lynn can spot her in her peripherals, big round eyes shiny even from sleep.
“No, nothing like that,” Lynn’s quick to assure her. She doesn’t know why she’s being so vague. Is she covering up for herself? For Amanda? It’s blurry. “I just wanted to make sure you were alright. You haven’t talked in your sleep like that for a long time.”
“Talked? Was I talking?”
Amanda’s a bit more awake now, but she hasn’t bothered rubbing the sleep from her eyes, nor has she shifted against Lynn in the slightest. She’s a bit of a ticking time bomb, any movement subject to ruin the tranquility, the comfort. Lynn’s not sure how long it’ll take for her to figure it out.
“It’s… Don’t worry about it, hun. Just head back to sleep.” Lynn dips her head down, forces a smile, presses a kiss to the crown of Amanda’s head. “It was only a dream, I’m sorry for bothering you.”
Lynn hopes, desperately, that this can blow over, that it’ll go back to how it was, with her simmering in her own isolation, Amanda snoring away, probably drooling on her shirt. It’s easier that way. Maybe Amanda will forget.
Instead, though, Amanda hums, moves to burrow herself further into Lynn’s side, and as she does, freezes up.
“Oh.” It’s not really a startled noise, pushed through a thick blanket of drowsiness, but Amanda turns more frantic quickly, eyes wide as she jolts, chokes out another vastly more concerned mutter. She’s writhing in an instant, fighting to slip herself out from under Lynn’s arm. It’s all too fast, moves too quickly for Lynn to respond appropriately.
“Shit. Fuck, Lynn, I’m so– let go of me– I’m so sorry–” she’s stammering, falling apart, choking on her words and fighting hard against everywhere that she can feel Lynn against her.
Lynn’s quick to interject, drops her arm as soon as she can fully register any of it, sits up in an instant. It’s hard to act like it didn’t hurt, both to be discarded so stiffly and also physically, to have heels dug into her calves, balled up hands in her sides where Amanda grappled with her. Still, she’s calm as she can possibly give the illusion of being, swallows it down when she feels the tension building in her throat.
“Hey– hey, calm down a little,” it’s hushed, weak as Amanda rolls fully away from her, tucks her knees up to her chest. There’s already the telltale shuddering of her lungs, the way she curls in on herself when she’s trying to block Lynn out. It’s been a while since things have been this bad. Longer since Lynn has felt so stupid. “Sunshine, really, you need to take a breath,” she’s murmuring, leaning over Amanda, too cautious to put her hands on her.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to,” Amanda’s still mumbling, ignoring Lynn every time she tries to interject, to hush her. “Fuck, I’m so stupid,” it’s weak, still bitter where it lands on Lynn’s ears.
“You aren’t.” It’s hard to sound convincing, even when Lynn knows she’s telling the truth. It’s hard to push Amanda at all. It’s hard not to roll over and let Amanda stew in her own feelings when Lynn knows she can bounce back, get over this like any other hurdle. Lynn, though, she just doesn’t know when to shut up.
“You’re not stupid. It was just a sex dream, it doesn’t matter. We can forget about it.”
The words don’t come out honeyed or gentle in the way that they used to. It’s gratingly realist, the way she rolls through the script, rattling off precisely what she thinks Amanda’s sleep-addled brain will take kindly to. She’s expecting some kind of positive reception, for the walls to come down again.
Instead, Amanda is quiet, muffled by her hands where she’s hidden her face, shaking still. It’s not typical of her. By now she’d typically be protesting at the very least, if not outright trying to get away.
Lynn’s taken aback. Her concern is blotted out with confusion, even as Amanda unfurls from herself slightly, one knee dropping down so she can continue to hold the other to her chest, hiding herself. It’s hard to believe that this is the same woman who has made Lynn fear for her own life on at least one occasion, laying there weak and petrified.
“I mean it, honey, it’s nothing.”
It’s cautious, apprehensive. Like reaching one hand out, an olive branch, still such a trepidatious affair with Amanda.
“You know I’d never force you to do anything. We’ll move on.”
It takes a while Amanda to get it together, draw in another breath. She won’t look at Lynn. It’s hurtful, though not quite as bad as it would have been some months ago. Lynn’s had to learn to stop taking things so personally.
When she’s finally gathered herself enough to speak, Amanda’s still shaky.
“I can’t.” Her voice cracks, a sniffle followed by a choked laugh. “Fuck, I can’t. Please don’t make me leave.”
It breaks something in Lynn. Wordless, she lays back down, wraps herself around Amanda, arm secure around her stomach. There’s not enough restraint in the world to keep her at a distance, not enough in Amanda to fight her off.
“What’s the real problem, huh?” Lynn mutters close to her ear. Hopes that the pressure will be grounding and not suffocating.
Amanda takes in a shaky breath, bringing one hand to interlock with Lynn’s, fingers shaking as she allows herself to straighten out, legs already tangling with those behind her.
“I don’t want to forget about it.”
“You… don’t want to.” There’s some uncertainty in the way Lynn restates it, even more as she lowers her voice. “What do you want, then?”
Amanda hesitates. Lynn can’t really blame her. Still, she presses. It’s like getting blood from a stone, fucking exhausting in every fathomable way. Uniquely their own.
“I can’t read your mind, you know? You—”
“I want to— to let you help.” Amanda cuts her off, frustrated, broken by a short pause. Amanda shivers as she opens her eyes, glances back at Lynn warily. “Please. And only if you want to.”
Is it how she’d expected her night to go? Not in the slightest. But damn it all if Lynn’s not elated to be awake at two in the morning for this.
Lynn tries to hide the way every nerve in her body flares up, masking it under a questioning hum. Amanda’s worn down and weary enough not to see through her trying to play coy, she figures.
“You want my thigh again, then? You seemed to like that.” It’s kind of embarrassing how hard she has to try to feign disinterest, or at the very least neutrality. She brushes another strand of hair from Amanda’s face as she squirms. Lynn can see her turning red across the bridge of her nose, her cheeks, her ears, even in the dim orange light, revels in having this power over her.
“Um. Maybe… your hand?” is the proposal. It’s invigorating. Breathes life into Lynn that makes sleep seem like a faraway fantasy, sends bright sparks up her spine.
Lynn hopes she doesn’t sound too eager when she whispers, “sure, I can do that.”
There’s a quiet shifting and an even quieter ‘okay’ as Amanda turns slightly and allows Lynn to reach across her. Lynn presses a kiss to her cheek, another to her forehead, a soft disbelieving chuckle low in her throat.
Lynn’s careful and silent as she grazes her fingertips down Amanda’s clothed stomach, light and fluttery touches that have her squirming around already. It’s not a side of Amanda that Lynn sees often, truth be told. She’s struggled to convince Amanda to relax long enough to even get her out of her pants, let alone get her off.
Amanda’s thighs tense together when Lynn reaches the band of her sweats. She’s quick to take a detour, back up under her shirt and over tightly wound muscles, over the raised scars on Amanda’s hips.
“What’s the matter? You need a minute?”
“Mm- no, it’s, fuck, it’s embarrassing,” Amanda stammers, her hips rolling back against Lynn’s inadvertently. Lynn doesn’t interrupt her, just trails through the soft hair beneath her navel, content to watch her crumble.
“It’s just. Probably, uh. It’s probably smaller than you’re expecting.”
Well. That hadn’t been one of the myriad concerns on Lynn’s bingo card, that’s for certain. Still, Amanda won’t stop rambling on.
“I— I didn’t want to get your hopes up, ‘m sorry.”
Lynn, in a state of utter disbelief, cannot help herself. She stifles the softest chuckle against the skin of Amanda’s neck, loose hair from her ponytail tickling her nose.
Amanda’s already protesting before she can defend herself. “Don’t fucking laugh at me— Hey! Quit that!” Louder still as Lynn reaches up and brushes over her ribs, ticklish enough to make her back arch up.
Lynn ends up rolling over, sitting up and yanking Amanda along until she’s leaning secure with her back against Lynn’s chest. Amanda feigns protest the whole time, writhes around uselessly like she ever stood a chance. Pouting something fierce in a way that only makes Lynn want to push her further.
Still, she resists, holds Amanda tight in both arms as she leans over her shoulder.
“I promise you, pumpkin, you’re plenty for me. As long as you’ll feel good from this, that’s all I want.”
There’s an uneasy but still relenting whine as Amanda finally falls slack, frowning deeply over her shoulder. Lynn tries to lean forward, presses yet another kiss to her cheek before she can slip away.
“Tell me if you need me to slow down or stop, okay?”
Amanda hums in weak acknowledgement as Lynn’s already reaching down to undo the strings on her sweats, slow enough as she brushes past the band that Amanda has ample time to stop her. It’s a gradual movement, a shuddering sigh from Amanda when Lynn takes her into her hand with a quiet hum.
“You went soft on me. Don’t tell me you changed your mind already,” Lynn teases, knowing fully well that she’s poking the bear. At the very least, she hopes it’ll remind Amanda of how things normally are, when they’re content to butt heads and have petty little arguments whenever they see fit. Amanda, though, only meets her with the rolling of her hips against Lynn’s hand, eyes squeezed tightly shut.
“Shut up, you know it’s not easy for me,” Amanda mumbles, her hand already curling under Lynn’s bare thigh where she’s wrapped around her.
It’s once in a blue moon, to see Amanda genuinely worked up, struggling to keep her composure for any reason that Lynn can perceive as good. For as long as they’ve been together, Lynn is still a stranger to Amanda’s body, a guest left lingering in the doorway, waiting to be invited in from the cold.
Amanda, at the very least, is responsive to her, especially when her tone shifts slightly.
“We’ll get you there, honey, it’s alright.” Amanda whines low in her throat when Lynn brushes up over her slowly with the pad of her thumb. Lynn can’t hold back the self-satisfied smile. “Maybe sooner rather than later.”
Amanda squirms for a moment, tugs at the waistband of her pajamas, struggles until Lynn helps her out and pushes the elastic out of the way. Lynn hums against the skin of her neck, presses a little peck against her.
“Wanna watch you do it,” Amanda mumbles, almost low enough to go unnoticed. Not quite, though.
Lynn’s impressed by the initiative, to say the least. Encouraging as she keeps her pace steady and slow, watches along with her. Amanda’s mesmerized, still quiet but more willing to meet Lynn half way, hips stuttering up into her hand.
“Have you thought about me like this before?”
Lynn can’t help but ask. She thinks she might know the answer, confirmed by the low whine that escapes Amanda.
“Yeah? You dream about me, too, don’t you?”
Amanda takes in a shuddering breath, head falling back on Lynn’s shoulder fully as she scrambles for words.
“Ah- um, that’s never happened before,” Amanda tries to deflect, swallowing hard. “I think so, at least.”
Lynn’s inquisitive, urging her on, scratching with blunt nails over Amanda’s stomach with her unoccupied hand. It makes Amanda twitch in her hand, spasms all down the rest of her thigh in a weak tremor.
“It was you, I know it was you, the rest is all blurry,” Amanda stammers. “I don’t… remember what, really, just that it felt… nice.”
“And this? Does this feel nice?”
The question is posed as non-threateningly as possible, muttered in tandem with another pointed brush up against the spot that had made Amanda shudder before. It works an absolute charm, has a strangled squeak of sorts wrestling itself out of Amanda’s throat as her back arches up. It’s a good enough answer, Lynn supposes.
Lynn’s kept every movement slow and calculated so far, always backing off just slightly when Amanda starts to get whiney. Amanda’s about where Lynn guesses she was when they started. Firm enough that she’s not fumbling quite so much. There’s something delicate about Amanda’s body that Lynn has never been able to place, scrawny and frail even when she tries to act tough. It’s only served to make Lynn grow fonder. An unfortunate oversight on behalf of the part of her brain that once had been attracted to a vastly different category of human.
There’s an overwhelming surge of affection swelling up in Lynn for which there is no outlet. She can’t recall a time she’s felt so much admiration and warmth, especially not before tapering off her pills. Sometimes love is a lazy handjob in the small hours of the night, so she’s come to discover.
“You’re taking it so well,” Lynn whispers, hopes that she’s helping Amanda keep the gears turning by making her voice just slightly breathier. It earns her a labored whine in response, a noise she’s seldom heard from Amanda. Something that might have, in Amanda’s utterly scrambled brain, amounted to a word, a sentence. She can feel Amanda’s pulse racing, thumping hard in her neck, her hips jumping up to meet each measured movement.
Lynn allows it, decides that she’d be a fool to deny Amanda anything in such a state. Her brain is already swirling with a whole host of ideas, things she wants to try if Amanda decides this doesn’t have to be a one-off thing. She can tease her any other day, keep her on edge, make her take whatever Lynn gives her and nothing more.
She’s getting a bit ahead of herself.
Distracted and lost enough that by the time she tunes back in, Amanda is rutting against her fully, bucking her hips hard into Lynn’s hand where she’s just barely giving her any friction.
“Are you close already?” Lynn asks, playfully interrogative. There’s no real way of telling. She’s only faintly heard Amanda getting off in the past, or at the very least that’d been the conclusion she’d drawn, never seeing it for herself. It’s a beautiful thing to watch her fall, tensing and shaking as she tries to choke out something like an affirmative.
She could tease her for it. It’d be low hanging fruit. There are times, though, that Lynn struggles to make her words add up with her thoughts, and this, she decides, can’t be one of them.
“You can do it, sweetie, I know you can let go.” Lynn’s steady, makes sure not to lose her pace, focusing her fingertips on the underside of Amanda while her thumb makes tight circles. It has Amanda’s hips jolting, bucking unpredictably as she keens, little noises pitching up with each twitch. She’s needy in a way that Lynn’s not used to, not without her being fragile, breakable.
“Gonna— so close, fuck,” it’s all Lynn can make out of the jumble of syllables, eager and desperate, chasing her high with all of the strength in her still sleepy body.
“That’s it, there you go,” Lynn’s whispering, too lost in the moment to shut herself up. “Look at me, sunshine. Don’t you wanna look at me?”
Amanda does, without so much as an attempt to stop herself, eyes teary and lidded where they meet Lynn’s. It’s uneasy for a moment, loses rhythm, but Amanda’s ramrod straight only seconds later, rigid and whining. Her fingernails bite crescents into Lynn’s thigh as she arches up, only growing louder with each desperate little noise.
There’s one more definitive drive forward before Amanda falls entirely, spasming as her breath hitches, tensing up and shivering hard enough that it rattles Lynn with her.
“There you go, it’s alright.” Lynn’s voice is… needlessly encouraging, it seems, as Amanda’s beyond willing to keep fucking herself against Lynn’s nearly open palm. Her eyes clamp shut again in concentration, brows furrowed, her whole face scrunched up with the exertion. It lasts somewhere between a burning minute and hours until she finally comes, shoots right up her stomach with a trembling sigh.
Amanda holds herself there for a moment before collapsing entirely, deadweight against Lynn’s front. She’s panting already, breathing out long and hard and shaking on every inhale, reaching blindly with eyes squeezed shut for Lynn’s arm, hugging it tight to her chest.
“You did so well,” Lynn mutters, delicate words on exhausted ears. Amanda can only respond with a breathy laugh, her head falling back against Lynn’s shoulder.
It takes Amanda a few minutes to come back down fully, not aided in the slightest when Lynn sweeps over her one last time and sends shivers racking her entire body.
“God, fuck, I feel like I’m gonna die.”
“You just need to sleep, drama queen.” Lynn hums to herself as she splays her fingers over Amanda’s stomach again. “Hold on, though, don’t roll over. You have a little… yeah.”
It’s affectionate and doting in a strange way to be the one taking care of her like this.
“Jesus. This is all backwards,” Amanda grumbles, back to her old self as soon as she’s cleared the thick haze of fucking herself to completion.
Lynn chuckles as she slips her old t-shirt over her head and wipes the minuscule amount of Amanda’s release off of her stomach with it, tosses it in the general direction of the laundry basket when she’s content.
“Now you’re all good.” Lynn finds herself fighting a smile, even as she’s tucking Amanda back into her sweatpants, straightening her shirt out with a light pat on her stomach.
Amanda’s pliant as Lynn rolls her over onto her side, and doesn’t even bother protesting with more than a muffled grumble when Lynn faces away from her, yanks her up against her back and wraps both of her arms around herself.
“You think we’re even yet?” Lynn asks, soft through the easy quiet as Amanda begrudgingly pulls her closer.
“Not in a million years.”