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Victoria isn’t entirely sure how the topic first came up.
She thinks it was something related to a drinking game Trinity and Dennis started when they felt the party was about to die down – a bottle of 100 proof and a few never have I ever-style questions soon getting things moving again – but either way, it somehow leads to a handful of attendees sitting in a circle on the living room floor, talking about the first time every one of them remembered having gay thoughts.
Victoria somehow ended up part of this handful, even though she didn’t think she would have much to contribute to the conversation.
“For sure the Hex Girls,” Trinity announces proudly, toasting her red solo cup of wine to the sky. “It took one viewing of Scooby Doo and the Witch’s Ghost to change my outlook on the entire world. And I am forever grateful to them.”
“Scully from The X Files,” Princess notes then, a wistful smile on her face as she lifts her beer bottle to her lips and takes a slow sip.
Next is Dennis, sitting cross-legged with an open bottle of tequila resting in the gap between his thighs.
“Mulder from the X Files,” he confirms with zero hesitation.
Several answers follow, all given in quick succession and with little rumination – that one scene from Jennifer’s Body, the Talk Dirty single cover, the entire Lay All Your Love On Me number from Mamma Mia – but no matter how hard Victoria tries, she is no closer to coming up with a suggestion of her own.
And to her shock, she is really, really trying to think of one.
It’s soon her turn, and several pairs of eyes fall on her. She tilts her head to the side as if torn between options, humming a bit to buy herself some time.
Her instinctual answer is to just blurt out “I’m straight”, the same answer that she’s been giving all her life. The one she had never really questioned, always finding herself too busy or too overwhelmed or too exhausted to begin considering it.
But now, it felt dishonest to say that. Even though nobody would push her on it – drunk as her friends may be, they know how to respect a boundary – it still feels weird to just reply with a statement about her straightness, one she’s suddenly unsure of for some inexplicable reason.
She could just copy what one of the others said. Again, people wouldn’t press further, would probably just let out a cheer like they’d been doing for all the others and move on to something else shortly thereafter, nobody caring a fraction as much as she does about what she chooses to respond with.
That doesn’t sit right with her either, though. Feels like a lie, harmless as it might be, but she’s never been a particularly convincing liar.
Eventually goes with the closest thing she has to the truth:
“I haven’t really thought about it yet, to be honest.”
And just as she imagined, people were more than satisfied with that answer. The topic soon moves on to discussing the strangest places that they’ve had a hookup, all mention of gay thoughts to the back of everyone’s mind.
Except, of course, Victoria’s.
A few minutes later, when she announces to the group that she’s heading into the kitchen for a refill, she locks eyes with Trinity, feeling the heat of her stare as it follows her every step of the way.
Feels exhilarated by it. A warmth that spreads through her skin and settles in her core, a desire to keep Trinity’s gaze fixed on her for as long as possible.
And when she returns to the circle, her wish, in part, comes true; Trinity makes no attempt to hide the way she watches Victoria tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, eyes flicking down to her lips every so often before going back to pretending to engage with whatever conversation is being had.
So, maybe it’s not at the back of everyone’s mind.
—
“Hey, Crash?”
The words prompt Victoria’s eyes to shoot open, blinking frantically as she tries to place where she is. She gives her head a shake to try and snap herself out of it but it does little to get her mind up to speed.
“Shit, shit, sorry – did I fall asleep?” she asks, the words coming out croaky as she glances around her. Her mouth feels dry, a lump in her throat as she swallows.
She’s in Trinity’s living room, sitting on the couch. Trinity’s sitting at the other end of it, arms resting behind her head as she surveys the scene with a small grin.
Nobody else is here. The party must be finished, but the room is clear of any mess – no empty cups, no half-eaten bowls of chips. They're both in the same outfits they were wearing earlier in the evening.
How long has she been asleep? Did she somehow nap through Trinity cleaning up after the party?
“You’re probably still asleep, Victoria,” comes the reply, soft and soothing and a little entertained.
That feels like an answer to a different question.
It takes her a second to process it, brows furrowing as she repeats the words in her head. Eventually she thinks she has grounds to object to that statement, and does so with, “How can I be asleep if I’m here talking to you?”
Trinity shrugs, bringing her hands down to her lap where they rest casually, drawing Victoria’s attention to them in a way that seems unintentional. “I don’t know, I never really brushed up on the subconscious during med school. Or the brain in general. Someone in neuro or psych would be better at answering that.”
“But you’re the only one here?”
Another smile. “I am, Crash. And why do you think that is?”
Victoria’s turn to shrug. “Because you’re the last person I saw before heading out? Because I spent all night in your – in this apartment?”
“I guess,” Trinity answers with more than a little scepticism. Edges closer on the couch then, which finally snaps Victoria’s attention away from her hands. “Or maybe – just maybe – it’s because you want me to do this?”
In the literal blink of an eye, Trinity’s sitting right next to her now, thigh against thigh. She reaches up and tucks a strand of hair behind Victoria’s ear, the same one that kept bothering her earlier.
Victoria knows she should be shocked; she should ask how the hell Trinity teleported like three feet across the couch, should probe further into what is actually happening here and whether this is all just a little pocket of her imagination.
But Trinity’s thumb grazes her cheek and it feels so real, so lovely and pleasant to be touched so gently by someone she wants to kiss so badly, and Victoria realises that asking too many questions might make this all go away.
Doesn't second-guess things anymore after that.
She decides to lean into it, closing the distance between them and meeting Trinity’s lips with a messy kiss.
Again, this feels so, so real, more tangible a sensation than anything Victoria’s felt in months, maybe years, maybe her whole life. All she can focus on is how hot everything feels – the heat of Trinity’s tongue slipping into her mouth, the slight sting when she gently nips her lower lip a few moments later, the warmth of Trinity’s body as Victoria presses herself against it, thighs on either side of Trinity’s –
Oh, she’s straddling Trinity now. Doesn’t really remember that happening.
She’s glad she initiated it, though; it feels just as right as everything else, and her mind is finally blissfully blank, head swimming only with thoughts of Trinity’s mouth and wanting to feel it everywhere.
She’s not sure how long they kiss for or when she started rocking back and forth, desperate for more stimulation between her thighs.
She does know that Trinity soon starts taking off both of their clothes, and she watches as the items are thrown unceremoniously onto the floor – though they land perfectly folded, which is again, unusual – and also knows without a doubt that she’s so turned on she could come from this alone, from grinding against Trinity’s bare thigh, and that it would be the most incredible sensation she had ever felt, one she has been chasing and chasing with no relief –
Trinity flips them then, switching their positions. It’s sudden but not unwelcome – Victoria is happy for her to take the lead for this part. She sits on the couch as Trinity lowers herself to the floor, kneeling on the hardwood as she gently spreads Victoria’s thighs, biting her lower lip at the sight before her.
She expects to tense up then, to feel some apprehension or nervousness, but Victoria feels only anticipation thrum inside her.
Trinity kisses her stomach, soft pecks against sensitive skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps. She kisses lower, lower – a brush of lips at her hipbone, below her navel, to each of her inner thighs – and then, moving as if in slow-motion, presses a kiss to her sensitive clit. Just a short kiss, fleeting contact, but enough for Victoria’s head to fall back against the couch cushion and gasp out a shocked, “holy shit, holy shit”.
Trinity hovers there a moment, soft puffs of breath washing over Victoria’s aching cunt, before she leans in and puts her entire warm mouth around her clit.
Flicks her tongue and sucks at the same time, and Victoria’s gone.
Her eyes are screwed shut, but she thinks if she opens them she still wouldn’t be able to see anything; every bit of her brainpower is concentrating on the feeling between her legs. It starts as a near-unbearable tingling, then moves into something hotter and more slick, the careful drag of Trinity’s tongue through her core causing her thighs to tremble and spine to arch off the couch.
She’s so wet she can hear it. Almost cries out but is only able to gasp, her vocal cords not capable of forming the words that are on the tip of her tongue.
Eventually, finally, she’s able to choke out the sentence just in time;
“I’m – gonna – you’re gonna make me come, Trinity.”
She hears a muffled noise that sounds an awful lot like the word ‘good’. Trinity is unable to pull away from her cunt long enough to catch a breath, much less engage in a back-and-forth, and so Victoria is aware that’s the only verbal acknowledgement she’s going to get.
She’s more than fine with that.
It’s building now, faster and more uncontrolled than she expected, not the steady flicker of a flame but like a firework going off in her core, soaring and soaring until –
Victoria wakes with a start, forehead damp with sweat, sitting bolt upright in her own bed.
It takes a full minute for her breathing to return to normal, even longer for the racing heartbeat in her chest to slow to a healthy level.
She feels … weird. Not bad weird, but a floaty, light-headed sort of weird.
It’s kinda nice, actually. Different but pleasant, if slightly tinged with disappointment.
She had gotten back from the party, clearly. She's in her pyjamas, her dress from last night folded over the chair by her vanity, and there's a packet of makeup wipes on her bedside locker. She remembered to take her makeup off, and she woke up in a bed without Trinity in it.
She blinks at the wall for a second.
That dream …
Unlike any dreams she’s had in the past, she’s fairly sure she remembers most of it.
Overtaken by curiosity (and a little unsatisfied at things having ended when they did), she slips a hand into her pyjama pants to see if she’s really as wet as she thought she would be if she –
Yep. She definitely remembers all of it.
Lets out a long breath and shakes out the last lingering tension from her shoulders.
Well. She has two options, really:
She can either stay up all night trying to unpack it, trying to process the meaning and so on.
Or, she can lie back down against her pillows and finish where she left off.
And for once, the choice is a clear one.