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Ashe had long since determined that Sarah was far more of a romantic than most people gave her credit for.
It wasn’t unusual for Sarah to text her at work out of the blue declaring an intent to take her somewhere after work. One of the amusing side effects of having a girlfriend who worked largely for herself and largely from home was that Sarah seemed to revel in her unstructured time for “plotting and scheming,” as she called it.
It was unquestionably charming most of the time, but after spending nearly three hours in an all-hands Zoom meeting that most certainly could have been an email, Ashe had to admit that the waiting text message of Date night!!!!! 🥰💞 made her grimace. Spending even more time around strangers was one of the last things she felt like doing right now.
She sent an apologetic reply to that effect, holding her phone beneath her desk as she typed it out. She’d barely pocketed it again when it started buzzing several times in quick succession.
>Zoom meetings on Fridays
Genuinely could not be me
Nah but fr dw it’s a stay at home date night
Pause actually is a stay at home date night still cool or are you like seriously wiped
Ashe smothered a smile—she didn’t feel like answering any questions if anyone saw her grinning down at her phone—and replied, No, that sounds doable honestly. Sarah heart-reacted the message almost immediately.
Yessssssss
Dress code semi-formal btw
Wait google says what I’m thinking is cocktail attire actually so that
Yes I’m serious
Ashe backspaced the now-answered inquiry. Sarah typed too fast. Cocktail attire for a stay at home date? she sent instead. Sarah replied with a wink-and-kiss emoji and nothing else. Ashe couldn’t quite bite back a small, fond smile. Something to look forward to, at least.
Sarah was still doing touch-ups in the kitchen when Ashe got home, but came out briefly to steal a quick kiss. The deep blue blouse and fitted black pencil skirt piqued Ashe’s interest immediately, but Sarah danced out of her reach the instant her hands started wandering, giggling.
“Dress code,” she sing-songed before disappearing back into the kitchen.
Ashe hummed in feigned disappointment, but allowed it. She wanted to grab a shower first anyway.
Sarah was just turning down the dimmer in the dining nook when Ashe reappeared, and she barely glanced up with a wry smile. “I was going for the candlelit aesthetic, but when I tried just the candles earlier it was still basically pitch black, which is not really conducive to...” She trailed off and looked at Ashe again, properly this time. Sarah gave an incredulous whistle and grinned. “Oh, this is the thanks I get? I spend all afternoon slaving over a hot stove and you’re upstaging me by looking that hot?”
Ashe laughed, brushing a few stray strands of white back behind her ear. It wasn’t anything preposterous, really. She knew she had a comfortable dress that pretty closely matched the shade of blue of Sarah’s blouse, and she knew she hadn’t quite used up the shade of lipstick that kept Sarah’s eyes drifting down to her mouth, but Sarah still admired her openly now as if she’d never seen her before.
“You’re sweet,” Ashe said, tugging Sarah close enough to give a soft, chaste kiss. Sarah smiled into the kiss, eyes closing contentedly at even that gentle touch. Ashe reached up, idly curling a lock of scarlet around her finger. “‘All afternoon,’ you said?”
It took Sarah a second to slip back into herself. “Well.” She screwed up her face and gave a waggling gesture with one hand. “Hour, hour and a half. Ish. That didn’t sound as funny in the context though.” She leaned up on her toes just enough to steal another quick peck before taking Ashe’s hands in each of her own, leading her back towards the table. “But I have been having to live with how good it smelled for the past like thirty minutes so I am starving now.” Ashe chuckled as Sarah pulled her chair out for her. “How about you, you hungry?”
Ashe didn’t release one of her hands for a moment, rubbing her thumb affectionately over Sarah’s knuckles as she draped herself into the chair next to her. “Ravenous, really.”
There was the flicker of mischief she expected in Sarah’s eyes. “Be nice.” Ashe let Sarah pull her hand back finally.
It was a quiet dinner, but comfortably so. The dimmed lighting, the wine, the adoring brushes of Sarah’s hand against hers were all doing wonders to unspool the lingering stresses of the week from her shoulders. The meal itself was nothing particularly complex—Sarah would readily remark that hers never were—but it was hard to go wrong with any kind of pasta dish, and this particular one Ashe had to admit was plenty satisfying as far as comfort meals went.
Somewhere between the first and second glass of red was when Ashe noticed Sarah lazily tracing circles over the back of Ashe’s free hand: a small, unbothered contact, just enough to enjoy the touch of skin on skin.
By the time their plates were cleared and the bottle emptied, Sarah had given up on bothering with subtlety in admiring the stain of Ashe’s lips. Ashe gave her hand a light squeeze to get her attention properly. “Bed?”
Sarah grinned, mischief clear in the sparkle of her eyes. “So early, baby?”
“It’s been a nice night,” Ashe conceded, bringing Sarah’s hand up to press an adoring kiss to her fingertips. “Good food, good wine. Beautiful company.” Sarah smirked for all her ears pinked. “I see no reason not to continue enjoying the evening.”
“Oh, you are a charmer,” Sarah pretended to accuse, gently slipping her hand from Ashe’s lax grip to stand up. Then, grinning, “Let me handle the dishes and then we can talk about a nightcap.”
Ashe gave a soft, amused exhale, sliding up and out of her seat to trail Sarah into the kitchen. “Come on, darling, the dishes can wait. Let me take you to bed.”
Sarah’s grin was playful as she turned on the sink. “They most certainly can not. I think that meal prep uses every cooking dish we own.” Ashe rolled her eyes as Sarah went ahead and picked up the dish soap. “It’ll take like five minutes, baby. I’ll be right there.”
“Hmm.” Sarah twitched as Ashe slipped closer, hands finding purchase on her waist. “You cooked. I think that means I’m supposed to handle the dishes, no?”
Sarah turned her head, smiling, to steal a quick, fond kiss. “You looked too pretty tonight to get stuck on dish duty.”
Ashe smiled into the kiss, pulling herself against Sarah’s back. “And you called me the charmer.” She wrapped her arms around Sarah’s waist, resting her chin on her shoulder and falling into a gentle sway together as Sarah continued on with the dishes. “This doesn’t feel very fair to you, though, does it?”
“Five minutes?”
“Practically an eternity,” Ashe murmured against the tender spot behind Sarah’s ear that made her squirm. Her hands crept higher up Sarah’s sides, indulging in the slide of silk over Sarah’s warm skin. Gods, she’d never tire of how perfectly Sarah’s figure fit so perfectly against hers. One of her hands slid back to splay over Sarah’s stomach, deliberately tracing the line of buttons up to her collar. “And you look far too tempting to be anywhere besides our bed right now.”
The low-burning heat in her voice was enough to make Sarah shiver in her arms.
She still shot her an amused look. “Someone’s in an impatient mood.”
“Mm... perhaps so.”
Sarah gave a soft, genuine sound of surprise when Ashe undid the top button of her blouse... the second. Ashe traced her fingers down the temptation of newly-bared skin, and was equal parts pleased and amused when her hand found only smooth, bare skin.
Sarah squirmed, giggling as Ashe cupped her breast through her blouse, hefting the familiar weight in her palm. “Oh?” Ashe nipped gently at the gold hoop in her ear lobe, tracing her thumb over the firm peak of Sarah’s breast. “My. What else aren’t you wearing?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” The thread of playful amusement in her voice dissipated in a thin whimper when Ashe’s fingers closed around her nipple piercing. “You act like you’re complaining.”
“Mm... ‘complaining’ isn’t the word.” Ashe pressed a lazy kiss to the side of Sarah’s neck, allowing herself a moment to enjoy the play of her silk blouse over the warmth and weight of her breast in hand. Sarah squirmed against her, giggling as the pan she was trying to clean slipped from her hand. “Five minutes, wasn’t it?”
Sarah scoffed, grinning at Ashe’s indulgent squeeze. A fetching little blush was just starting to settle into her cheeks. “Five minutes without being fondled by a viking model, maybe.”
“Am I distracting you, Sarah?” She nipped gently at the tender spot at the edge of her jaw, feeling the way Sarah’s breath shivered under her lips. Her free hand slid from Sarah’s waist to her front, splaying over her stomach. Her little finger just barely teased over the waistband of her skirt.
“You know damn well—”
The sting of Ashe’s teeth against the shell of her ear shut her up. “You want me to stop?”
Sarah shot her such a scathing look over her shoulder that Ashe nearly laughed. “Take a wild guess.”
Ashe tugged at one of her piercings with a firmness that bordered on cruelty. The sarcastic expression melted into a dazed hunger, and Sarah whined plaintively.
It was nearly too warm like this: the kitchen, the closeness. Sarah’s skin very nearly feverish under the cool of Ashe’s touch. But Ashe had long since decided that she could bear any heat if it kept Sarah tangled so intimately against her like this.
Sarah still wasn’t budging. That was fine.
She felt more than heard Sarah’s muted gasp as her hand slid beneath the band of her skirt.
Sarah’s lashes fluttered at the demanding pressure of Ashe’s hand between her thighs, stroking her middle finger over the slick lace. The soft ridges of the fabric seemed familiar—then, with a soft laugh of realization, Ashe pressed more firmly against her. “Is this the pair I like on you?”
Sarah giggled, a little breathless as she rolled her hips into the contact. “The green ones, yeah.”
“Oh, you do spoil me.”
“What can I say, I’m just a romantic like th—” Sarah’s flippant tease lost much of its sting when the slide of Ashe’s fingers against the swell of her clit left her whining. “...and you... are being very bad tonight.”
“Hm,” Ashe chuckled into the curve of Sarah’s neck. She pressed closer to Sarah’s back, trapping her properly against the counter, dishes long since forgotten. The improved pressure of her fingers between Sarah’s thighs made her hum in approval, petting slowly over the drenched fabric. “Not that you seem very opposed to my bad behavior.”
Sarah didn’t have anything to say to that, just chuckling breathlessly as she leaned back into Ashe’s sturdy form. Ashe smiled and curled her fingers, stroking the length of her till Sarah huffed out a sigh, rolling her hips greedily into her touch.
Ashe stilled, waiting patiently.
It took Sarah a second to notice. She scoffed, gently elbowing back at her with a pout. “See, now you’re just being mean.” Sarah leaned her head back against Ashe’s shoulder, the whole of her soft and warm and entirely at ease in her arms. “You gonna let me finish or not?” Then, grinning impishly, “The dishes, I mean.”
“The dishes? No, I don’t think so.” Ashe slipped her fingers beneath the lace finally, stroking through the slick folds just to feel Sarah writhe against her. Sarah’s hand felt blindly for the edge of the sink, gripping thoughtlessly at it as though it would steady her at all as Ashe dragged her fingers back up and over her clit, effortless with the slip Sarah’s arousal. “Sweet girl.”
Sarah moaned at that, soft and honest. Ashe shivered to hear it, to feel it against her. A slow, open-mouthed kiss against the side of Sarah’s neck—an indulgent slide of her free hand into her half-unbuttoned top—the curl of two fingers against the heat of her entrance, and the whimper that she earned at the contact—gods, Sarah always melted so beautifully under her touch. It was nearly as addicting as it was gratifying.
“Ashe.” Just one word, hoarse with need, hot and sticky on Sarah’s mouth.
“Sarah.” The hand at her breast slid up, over her collar, daring to cup gingerly around her pretty neck. Settling in a loose hold about her jaw, tugging her head up to look at her properly.
Ashe adored her expression in these private moments: flushed and disheveled, eyes lidded, lips parted and lipstick smudged, utterly drunk with sensation and longing for more.
Sarah tried to close the distance to kiss her again. Ashe lifted her head just enough to prevent it. Sarah blinked, opening her eyes properly to look hazily up at her. Her pupils were blown wide in those pale blue eyes, hunger and adoration all at once.
A gentle stroke of her thumb over Sarah’s jaw. “Ask nicely,” was all Ashe said.
There was a brief flicker of clarity, and Sarah exhaled sharply, smiling, too breathless for a proper laugh.
“Please.”
Ashe hummed her approval. “Good girl.”
She kissed her properly, lapping whatever words Sarah still had off her tongue as she slid two fingers effortlessly inside her. Sarah faltered against her, precarious with the shock of being filled, but Ashe’s pin against the countertop held her steady. Sarah broke away just long enough to gasp—moan properly—and then arched to kiss her again, hips pressing greedily against the pulse of Ashe’s fingers with each pass.
Dripping and already quivering around Ashe’s fingers, it didn’t take very long to coax Sarah into a whimpering mess, knuckles white on the edge of the sink, eyes closed as she tried to match Ashe’s ruthless rhythm. Ashe chuckled, releasing Sarah’s jaw to let her free hand wrap around her waist to support her better. The newfound stability wasn’t lost on Sarah, all too glad to let herself be finger-fucked against the counter. Gods knew she’d made Ashe blush in enough evenings past purring about how long Ashe’s fingers were.
“Fuck,” Sarah whispered, letting her head fall back against Ashe’s shoulder again. Ashe took the opening whether intended or not, nipping into her exposed neck as she took her. Sarah was practically scalding around her fingers as far as Ashe was concerned, but she relished in the heat, stretching and curling until Sarah keened, clenching around her fingers. “Fuck, Ashe, you—!”
“That’s it,” she encouraged, nearly panting the words into Sarah’s skin. It was nearly too much—the heat, the closeness. The smell of her perfume. The audible obscenity of Sarah taking her fingers like nothing. “I’ve got you, darling, I’ve got you.”
Sarah never came with much fanfare, but the sharp jolt that rocked through her gave her away, flexing greedily around her, a stuttering mewl escaping her throat as she soaked Ashe’s fingers to the knuckle. Ashe thought Sarah’s knees might’ve even threatened to give out. She kept her bracketed to the countertop, stroking her through it as the tension rippled through her again—again.
The tremulous sigh that slipped from her lips echoed in the release of her taut form, and Sarah slumped into her, blissful as she was trusting. Ashe held her steady.
After a long moment, Ashe pressed a gentle kiss to Sarah’s neck, just enough to rouse her from her love-drunk daze. She blinked hazily up at her. Ashe admired her handiwork again: the flush of her cheeks, the ruined lipstick, the little barely-there trail of love bites just beginning to bloom on her throat. She smiled. Gods, her girl was beautiful. Ashe wasn’t sure she’d ever tire of admiring that fact.
Sarah leaned up, silently plaintive, and Ashe allowed it this time. She doubted she’d ever tire of kissing Sarah either, mouth always so soft and warm and receptive against hers. She held her close now, tangled in the heady warmth of Sarah’s body pressed fully against her, and dared to imagine she could feel the stutter of Sarah’s heart under the palm at her sternum.
Finally Sarah seemed to regain her footing, and broke the kiss with a soft, pleased sigh. “Now who’s spoiling who?” she whispered against the corner of Ashe’s mouth, lips curling in a teasing grin.
“Hm… if we’re comparing time involvement, I suspect still you, darling.” Sarah shivered, blushing at the audibly slick sound of Ashe pulling out. Ashe stepped away as soon as she was sure Sarah could stand on her own, edging closer towards the kitchen door. She held up her hand, examining with put-upon mild interest the way her two middle fingers glistened obscenely in the light. “But I daresay I can make up the time difference.” She brought her hand to her mouth, lazily running her tongue over the webbing between both fingers—and up, licking Sarah’s desire from her fingers as innocently as one might chase a melting bead of ice cream, eyes on Sarah’s. Daring.
Sarah only stared back, eyes wide and dark, the flush in her face deepening now.
Ashe grinned impishly. Nodded back at the sink. “What do you think, five more minutes?”
Sarah looked down at the sink, uncomprehending for a second before finally scoffing aloud, snatching a nearby dish towel to brusquely wipe her hands dry. “Alright, alright, you’ve made your point, you win.” Hands mostly dry, Sarah promptly balled up the towel and chucked it at her. Ashe laughed, holding up her hands to deflect the harmless projectile. “As usual.”
“You’ll learn one of these days,” she teased, picking the towel up off the floor to toss it onto a counter somewhere. “I always win.”
“Smartass.” Only Sarah could’ve made that sound so affectionate.
“Maybe a little. Are you coming or not?” Then, with a wry chuckle—“To bed, I mean.”
Sarah laughed but said nothing else, hot on Ashe’s heels as she left the room.