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Carol stares at Zosia for a moment before their mouths crash into each other.
There is no hesitation.
Carol’s hands go straight to Zosia’s face, fingers burying themselves in dark hair, pulling her closer, deeper, as if she could fuse their bodies through sheer force of touch. She feels Zosia’s teeth catch her lower lip, biting hard enough to tear a surprised moan from her throat.
A moment ago they had been arguing. Or rather, Carol had been yelling, words spilling out furious and desperate, accusations tangled with confessions she had never wanted to make. But now they’re kissing so desperately that the sounds echo through the empty room – loud moans, broken breaths, the wet sound of tongues meeting.
More Carol than Zosia. Carol can’t hold herself back, moaning straight into Zosia’s mouth, while Zosia keeps dictating the pace of the kiss.
Zosia kisses her like she has all the time in the world, like she knows exactly what Carol needs before Carol knows it herself.
And maybe she does. Maybe they do. The hivemind. All of them.
The thought should make Carol stop. It should make her push Zosia away, recover some scrap of dignity or resistance. But instead, she just pulls Zosia closer, nails scratching her scalp, and Zosia laughs against her lips – a low, rough sound, dangerously satisfied.
“Fuck.” Carol gasps when Zosia finally pulls back just enough to let her breathe, but not enough to break contact. Their foreheads are pressed together, breaths mingling in the tiny space between them. “I hate you guys. You’re so annoying.”
“You like us. You just said so.”
And Carol had said it. Two minutes ago. Maybe three. Time lost all meaning somewhere between the anger and the desire burning through her.
“All right, honesty. Let’s go for it. Cards on the table. I like you. You people. You-You… whatever. You’re… There… There’s a lot of things that I like about you, but this? This is a train wreck. This is unsustainable. It’s mental illness. It’s psychosis.”
She had tried for so long to deny that she was attracted to Zosia. To convince herself she was only there for a mission – manipulation. And Carol knew it. She’d realized it at the diner, when the illusion shattered and she saw all those empty people who once had lives, now replaying roles from their past. And every carefully orchestrated gesture, every word chosen to disarm her that Zosia had been using since then.
But she couldn’t deny to herself that she had loved spending time with Zosia. That her heart had raced when Zosia shut down the entire city’s lights just so she could see the sky better. That Zosia’s teasing humor had made her laugh for real for the first time in days. That sometimes – sometimes – Zosia felt like a single person, not a bee trapped in a hive.
“You are starving, and you can’t even pick a goddamn apple off a tree? I… How… Someone has to put the world right, even if it means you all leave me again. Even if it means that I’m…”
There were so many layers in that confession. Anger at the manipulation. Frustration at the impossible situation and fear of being left alone again. And underneath all of it, the admission she didn’t want to make: I like you. I don’t want you to go again.
And all of it was answered with Zosia stepping closer and kissing her.
Because that was what she wanted.
And they knew it.
The hivemind knew. Zosia knew. And now Carol knew that they knew, and she was kissing Zosia back anyway, because loneliness hurt more than manipulation, because desire was stronger than pride, because maybe some part of Zosia was still real.
And that part made Carol happy.
All that time alone. Forty days drowning in memories and guilt and a loneliness so deep. The devices that had nearly blown her face off – she could still feel the heat, the smell of gunpowder, the moment of pure terror when she thought she was going to die. Carol had been sure she would die then, alone in an empty Albuquerque, and everyone would know. But no one would care.
And when Zosia had first shown up at her door, Carol had slammed her against the car so hard her hands hurt afterward. And then the last time had been a desperate plea for Zosia to come back to her.
Helen. Her wife. Killed by them. Changed by them. Lost to the hivemind like everyone else. She missed her. She missed Helen with an ache that never healed, only got easier to ignore on some days.
She missed Zosia.
She missed being touched. Hands on her skin that weren’t her own. Human warmth. Connection. Anything that reminded her she was still alive and that the world hadn’t changed so much.
All of it. So many things inside her head, spinning in endless circles, because she just wants to save the world. She needs to save the world. But could she keep going like this? Doing the right things? Even if no one was willing to help her?
And Carol has no answer to that. So she just kisses her again, harder and more desperate, turning all her anger and desire and confusion into something physical, something she can control.
Or at least pretend she controls.
Can she admit to herself that Raban is a woman now that the world is quieter? After all, they knew. That was why Zosia was here in the first place. The Pirate Lady. Now kissing her mouth.
Zosia is holding her whole body now, firm hands on Carol’s waist, fingers pressing hard enough to leave marks, and they keep kissing until Carol feels her lips ache, swollen and sensitive, but she can’t stop. And she doesn’t want to.
Then Zosia is pushing her, and they start moving desperately toward the bedroom, stumbling, staggering, never stopping kissing. Their lips meet in confusion, wrong angles, teeth clacking, but they refuse to pull apart even when Carol misses the bedroom door, her hand smacking against the wall beside it.
Zosia laughs against her mouth and Carol shoves her against the hallway wall, needing to kiss her now, unable to wait three more steps to the bedroom. Zosia’s head thumps accidentally against the wall with a dull sound, and Carol feels the impact through her body, but the brunette only tightens her grip on Carol’s waist, pulling her closer.
Carol has to tilt up because Zosia is taller than her and that has always annoyed and aroused her in equal measure. She tries to take control, hands grabbing Zosia’s face, trying to dictate the rhythm, but the brunette seems determined not to let Carol dominate her. Not tonight.
Every time Carol tries to push, Zosia pushes back. Every time Carol tries to deepen the kiss, Zosia bites her lip and makes her moan. It’s a fight for control that Carol is losing.
Which probably makes sense, since they know what Carol likes. Helen’s memories would tell them how she liked being dominated and letting someone take control of her. And all the women she’d been with in her life, before Helen.
She can shout, act dominant, pretend she’s in control. But Zosia seems to disarm all her defenses with terrifying ease, putting her underneath.
“Are you okay?” Carol stops for a moment, breathless, when she realizes Zosia hit her head. Her hands go automatically to the back of Zosia’s skull, fingers searching for anything injured.
“Yes.” Zosia looks at her, and they’re still in the hallway, pinned against the wall, trying to get to Carol’s bedroom but unable to stop touching each other. For a moment Carol gets lost in Zosia’s blown pupils, staring at the brunette so deeply it feels like she can see through her.
“We…” Zosia starts, then stops. “I. I’m fine.”
“Okay.” Carol whispers. “I like you.”
They start kissing again, and this time it’s slower but more deliberate, like Zosia is savoring every second, every moan she pulls from Carol. Zosia’s hands grab Carol’s tank top so hard the fabric stretches, threatening to tear, and Carol arches into her, a moan slipping from her throat that sounds almost like a sob.
They stumble down the hallway again, bodies pressed together, hands exploring – Carol sliding hers under Zosia’s shirt, feeling warm, smooth skin, while Zosia grips her waist with possessive strength. Until they finally reach the bedroom.
Zosia pushes Carol through the door with enough force to make her stagger back, and they fall onto the bed. It’s as desperate as the kisses, the way their bodies move against each other – hips grinding, legs tangling, hands grabbing any scrap of skin they can reach.
Carol’s fingers claw desperately at Zosia’s shirt, pulling it up. And then Zosia is tugging Carol’s white tank top down, exposing her tits, and Carol barely has time to process before Zosia’s mouth is there, leaving frantic, wet kisses along the curve of her breast.
Carol moans – loud, uncontrolled – and her legs hook around Zosia’s, trying to pull her closer. She watches, fascinated and aroused, feeling the brunette’s teeth graze her skin, biting lightly before sucking.
Her tank top hits the floor first, and then Zosia pauses for a moment, pulling back just enough to look at Carol.
“You’re so beautiful.” Zosia murmurs. She slides a hand along the side of Carol’s body, fingers tracing the curve of her waist, rising until they stop just beneath her breast. “So beautiful, Carol. I… we…” She stops, frowns slightly. “I think you’re very pretty.”
Carol looks at her, heart pounding so hard she can hear it. Her hands go to Zosia’s shirt, fingers trembling slightly.
“I want to see you.” Carol whispers, her voice coming out more vulnerable than she meant it to. “I need… I need to see you.”
“You can see me. And touch me.” Zosia replies softly, and then she’s helping Carol, pulling off her own shirt and tossing it aside. Her hands move to her pants, and Carol watches, hypnotized, as Zosia undresses.
The simple black lingerie set contrasts perfectly with her dark skin, and Carol feels her mouth water, heat spreading through her body that has nothing to do with the alcohol still in her system.
Carol takes a deep breath, and her hands go automatically to Zosia, pulling her back onto the bed, on top of her, needing to feel the weight of the brunette’s body against hers.
“You’re so fucking hot.”
“Thank you, Carol.” Zosia smiles.
Carol wets her lips, suddenly nervous, and her hands slide down the sides of Zosia’s body until they find the edge of the black panties. Her fingers trace the delicate elastic, feeling the warm skin beneath, and Zosia arches slightly into the touch.
The room is dark because turning on the light was something neither of them remembered – or cared – to do. So all they can do is look at each other against the dimness, moonlight tracing soft outlines along each other’s bodies. Carol’s blue eyes are hypnotized, roaming over every inch of Zosia.
“I can take care of you.” Zosia says softly, and her hands slide along Carol’s thighs, gently spreading them. “First. Let me take care of you first.”
Carol nods without being able to form words, just shakily tilting her head in agreement, and then Zosia’s hands are pulling her pants down, fingers brushing the sensitive skin of Carol’s legs in a way that makes her shiver. The panties follow right after, tossed somewhere onto the dark floor, and Carol is completely naked now.
Zosia climbs over her body, and Carol can feel her heat and weight pressing down on her. Zosia pins both of Carol’s hands against the mattress, fingers interlaced with hers, and starts kissing her, almost stealing all the air from her lungs.
Their bodies begin to move in a slow, deliberate friction, and Carol can feel the fabric of Zosia’s panties against her core – wet and warm – and the sensation makes her moan loudly into Zosia’s mouth. She sighs, arching her hips up, searching for more friction.
“This… feels good.” Carol pants when Zosia pulls back just enough to let her breathe. “Very, very, very good.” The words spill out desperate and rushed, and she can’t stop moving, hips chasing the rhythm Zosia is setting.
“I want to make you happy.” Zosia murmurs against her lips. “How do you feel? Tell me, Carol. I need to hear it.”
“Good.” Carol sighs, and then moans when she feels Zosia’s hips start moving faster against hers, the friction increasing, pleasure spreading through her body in waves. “I feel… fuck, Zosia, I feel so good, I—”
She curls into Zosia, needy and desperate for more, and the brunette is on top of her, pressing her tits against Carol’s, their bodies moving together in rhythm. Carol can feel everything – the heat, the wetness of Zosia’s panties and the perfect pressure against her clit, tribbing.
“Are you going to be a good girl for me, Carol?” Zosia asks, and there’s something in her voice now that makes Carol melt completely.
“Yes, yes, yes, yes.” Carol says, the words tumbling over each other. “I will, I promise, I’ll be good, I’ll— fuck, please, Zosia, please don’t stop—”
“I won’t stop.” Zosia promises, then she’s kissing Carol’s neck, biting at the sensitive skin there while her hips keep moving, faster now. “Not until you come for me. Not until I feel you shaking underneath me.”
Carol moans loudly, uncontrollable, her hands squeezing Zosia’s hard enough to hurt. She can feel the climax approaching, spreading down her thighs, and she’s so close, so close–
“Zosia.” She gasps, and her name comes out like a prayer, like a confession. “Zosia, I’m going to—
“Let go.” Zosia whispers against her ear, then gently bites her earlobe, pulling a broken moan from Carol. “Come for me, Carol. Let me feel you.” Her voice drops lower, rougher. “I know you can make me happy. You can come all over my pussy, I want to feel my panties getting completely soaked with your taste.”
And Carol obeys because she can’t do anything else, because Zosia is everywhere – on top of her, inside her, around her — and she breaks, screaming Zosia’s name as she comes, the orgasm crashing through her body so hard she can barely breathe.
“F-fuck.” The word spills hot from her mouth, rushed, as she still trembles with the last aftershocks of pleasure. “Fuck, wow— that was…”
She can’t finish the sentence because Zosia is kissing her again, swallowing her words, and Carol can feel the smile on the brunette’s lips.
“We’re not done yet.” Zosia murmurs against her mouth. She pulls back just enough to look into Carol’s eyes, and the intensity there makes the blonde’s heart race. “Open your legs for me, baby.”
Carol obeys without hesitation, spreading her legs, watching in a daze as Zosia slips out of her panties and tosses them aside. The sight of Zosia’s naked body, even in the dark, makes Carol’s mouth go dry.
Then Zosia is moving down, kissing her body between her tits, down to her stomach. She stops at Carol’s navel, looking up, her dark eyes meeting the blonde’s blue ones.
Carol holds her breath.
Zosia moves lower, until she’s between Carol’s legs, and blows softly against her pussy, making Carol arch her hips involuntarily, a desperate moan tearing from her throat. Without wasting time, Zosia slowly drags her tongue along Carol’s entrance, licking up all the wetness still there, and the sound she makes – satisfied, almost a purr – makes Carol shudder all over.
“Mommy is going to take care of you.” Zosia says, the word coming out so naturally, so confidently, because she knows – they know – that Carol will like it. And Carol does, the kink hitting something deep inside her that makes her moan loudly and bury her hands in Zosia’s hair.
But Zosia’s actions are so quick that Carol barely has time to process the words. Zosia starts sucking her pussy. Her tongue circles Carol’s clit in slow motions, then fast, changing the rhythm in a way that drives the blonde insane.
Carol braces herself on the bed, hands gripping the sheets tightly, feeling the brunette against her – the hot, wet tongue, the lips sucking, teeth grazing lightly.
“Fuck.” Carol pants, hips moving involuntarily against Zosia’s mouth. “Zosia, fuck, this is— you’re— fuck—”
Zosia answers by pressing her tongue harder against her clit. Carol’s legs start to tremble, and she can feel another orgasm building, faster this time.
“Don’t stop.” Carol begs, her voice broken, desperate. “Please, Zosia, don’t stop, I’m so close, I—”
Zosia doesn’t stop. She intensifies, moving her tongue faster, sucking Carol’s clit with pressure, and then she’s sliding two fingers inside her, curling them at exactly the angle that makes Carol scream.
“Come for mommy.” Zosia murmurs against her pussy, and the vibration of the words combined with the movement of her fingers is too much, it’s too much–
Carol comes again, harder this time, screaming so loud her throat burns, her body arching off the bed as pleasure crashes through her in violent waves. Zosia doesn’t stop, licking her through the orgasm, dragging it out until Carol is shaking uncontrollably.
Only then does Zosia pull away, moving back up Carol’s body and kissing her deeply. Carol can taste herself on Zosia’s lips, on her tongue, and it turns her on in a way she hadn’t expected. The kiss is wet and desperate, and Carol moans into Zosia’s mouth, hands gripping her shoulders.
Until Zosia’s hands are back at her entrance, pushing two fingers inside her without warning, and Carol screams into her lips. Zosia holds Carol by the neck with her other hand – not squeezing, just keeping her in place – and starts fucking her to her own rhythm, fingers curling perfectly inside Carol.
A loud cry tears from Carol’s mouth, echoing through the dark room as Zosia’s fingers move inside her. Then Zosia is flipping her over, strong hands putting her on all fours on the bed, and Carol goes without resistance, completely surrendered.
Zosia seems intent on driving her to another orgasm, fingers sliding back inside her from behind, deeper now, and Carol buries her face into the pillow, muffling the moans she can’t control. She knows her skin is flushed – she can feel the heat spreading up her neck, her cheeks, down her chest. Her short hair is plastered to her face with sweat as Zosia keeps fucking her from behind.
“You’re desperate to come.” Zosia observes. “So desperate for us.”
Still, Zosia struggles to refer to herself in the singular – the “us” slips out naturally – but Carol doesn’t seem to care. Not when the brunette’s fingers are buried so deep inside her, curling like that, hitting that spot that makes her legs shake. She feels like she’s going to come for the third time tonight, and Zosia seems more than happy to meet her every desire.
“I— can I?” It’s a desperate, drunk-sounding plea that slips from Carol’s mouth, muffled by the pillow. She finally understands the rules, enough to obey Zosia, to ask for permission like a good girl should.
And part of her hates it. Hates how easy it is to surrender and obey, how Zosia knows exactly what to do and what to say to push her to the edge.
Helen used to do this. And now Zosia does too. Because they have Helen’s memories. Because they know everything about Carol. And the world wants to please her.
“I don’t know, darling.” Zosia replies. Her fingers slow, torturing Carol with long, deliberate movements. “Can you?”
“Please.” Carol begs, face pressed into the pillow, hips desperately rocking against Zosia’s fingers, searching for more. “Please, Zosia, I need—”
“I don’t know…” Zosia cuts in, and Carol can hear the smile in her voice. “I like the way you’re arching against my fingers. So pretty like this, so desperate.” She adds a third finger, and Carol screams. “What if we stayed like this all night? Would you like that, Carol? Staying right on the edge, begging, never getting what you want?”
“N-no.” Carol moans, tears in her eyes now. “Zosia, I really need to come, please, I can’t take it anymore—”
“But I didn’t allow you to come, Carol.” Zosia says, her voice firmer now, dominant in a way that makes Carol melt completely. “And good girls don’t act like a bitch in heat.” She pulls her fingers almost all the way out, and Carol sobs. “Are you a good girl or a bad girl?”
“I-I…” Carol stumbles over the words, desperate, shaking. “I’m good. I’m so good… Please, mommy, please, I’ll be good, I promise—”
The word slips out before she can stop it, and she freezes for a moment. But Zosia only laughs, pleased, and slams her fingers back inside her.
“That’s right, baby.” Zosia murmurs, triumph in her voice. “Good girl. My good girl.” She picks up the pace again, fucking Carol harder, her other hand sliding down the blonde’s spine, pressing her lower. “Come for mommy, my beautiful girl.”
Carol obeys and comes with a muffled scream into the pillow, her body shaking violently as the orgasm rips through her. Zosia guides her through it, fingers still moving, stretching the pleasure until Carol is begging her to stop because she’s too sensitive.
When Zosia finally pulls her fingers out, Carol collapses onto the bed, boneless, breathing hard. She feels Zosia lie down beside her, pulling her close, and Carol goes without resistance, burying her face in the brunette’s neck.
“You were so good.” Zosia whispers, kissing her hair. “So perfect, Carol.”
And Carol, exhausted and vulnerable and still a little drunk, just closes her eyes and lets Zosia hold her for a while. The warmth of the brunette’s body against hers is comforting in a way she doesn’t want to think too hard about. A few minutes pass in silence. Maybe more. Time loses meaning for Carol for a moment as Zosia keeps stroking her waist.
“I need to write.” Carol suddenly says, breaking the silence. She turns to look at Zosia, and there’s something different in her eyes now – an urgency that wasn’t there before.
Zosia turns too, looking a little surprised – eyebrows slightly raised, lips parted – but then she nods. “I’m glad we gave you some inspiration to keep working on your book, Carol.” There’s genuine satisfaction in her voice, as if this is exactly what they wanted all along. “I… can’t wait to read it. And of course you can go write! If you’d rather, we can go home.”
“No…” Carol says. “You need to stay.”
Zosia smiles so wide when Carol says that. There’s no other word for it – just admitting that the world has fallen in love with the blonde.
“It’s just this idea that popped into my head—” The blonde keeps talking, words spilling out fast and tangled as she sits up on the bed. “I need you to take off your panties.”
Zosia blinks, confused for a moment, then a wicked smile spreads across her face. “Of course.” she says, sliding the black panties down her legs and tossing them aside. “What do you need to inspire you, Carol?”
“You.” Carol says simply, then she’s getting up – almost stumbling, legs still shaky – cheeks flushed, strands of hair stuck to her sweaty face. She rummages through a box by the side of the room, kneeling on the floor and digging through its contents.
Zosia watches closely, curious, while the blonde keeps talking – half to herself, half to Zosia – about ideas for her book. “Raban might meet… Lucasia…” Carol murmurs.
“That sounds exciting, Carol.” Zosia says, and she genuinely looks interested, propping herself up on her elbows to get a better look at what Carol is doing.
“Yes!” Carol says, coming back to the bed with something in her hands. “And it is.”
She’s wearing a harness – fingers working frantically at the buckles, adjusting the strap-on against her hips – and Zosia can see the dildo being locked into place. The sight makes something tighten in Zosia’s stomach, and she finds herself smiling.
“Carol.” Zosia says, her voice lower now. “Are you going to fuck me with your strap?”
Carol finally finishes adjusting the harness and looks up, and there’s something different in her eyes now.
“Yes.” Carol answers, and her voice is steady for the first time that night. “I am.”
“That sounds fun.” Zosia says, a glint in her eyes as Carol starts moving back toward the bed. But then she sits up, a teasing smile on her lips. “I could… give you a little more incentive before that.”
“What?” Carol asks, confused, stopping halfway.
Zosia’s head moves closer to the strap-on. She stares at Carol for a moment – dark eyes meeting the blonde’s blue ones – and then she leans down, hands gripping Carol’s hips to steady her.
Her mouth goes straight to the dildo.
Carol holds her breath, watching in a daze as Zosia takes the toy perfectly – lips stretching around it, moving slowly down until almost the entire length disappears into her mouth. She starts mimicking oral motions, moving up and down, her tongue tracing the length of the silicone, and even though Carol can’t feel it physically, the sight alone is enough to make her legs tremble.
“God.” Carol breathes, her fingers automatically threading into Zosia’s hair. “Zosia…”
Zosia makes a low sound in her throat and looks up, holding eye contact as she keeps going.
“Look at you.” Carol sighs, her voice rough. “Swallowing my whole cock.” The words come naturally, and there’s power in them, something Carol feels ignite inside her. “So good for me. So perfect on your knees.”
Zosia moans around the dildo, and Carol can see the way her eyes darken, the way her thighs tense. She keeps going for a few more seconds before finally pulling back, lips swollen and shining with saliva.
“Now you’re ready.” Zosia murmurs, satisfaction and anticipation both in her voice. “Now you can fuck me.”
Carol doesn’t need any more encouragement. She pushes Zosia back onto the bed and the brunette goes with a smile, lying on her back and spreading her legs in invitation.
“You were so good to me.” Carol murmurs as she climbs over her, positioning herself between Zosia’s thighs. Her hands slide along Zosia’s legs, opening them wider, and she can see how wet Zosia already is, ready for her. “Now it’s my turn to take care of you.”
She lines the strap up with Zosia’s entrance, rubbing lightly, teasing, and Zosia arches her hips, trying to get more.
“Carol.” Zosia pants, for the first time that night. “Please.”
“Say it again.” Carol orders, her voice firm. “Ask me.”
“Please.” the brunette repeats, her hands gripping Carol’s shoulders. “Please, Carol, fuck me. I need—”
Carol pushes in with a firm thrust, and Zosia screams when she feels the strap fill her completely. The blonde keeps pushing, setting a steady rhythm, and she’s not willing to stop – not now, not when she finally has control, not when she can see Zosia falling apart beneath her.
Zosia’s nails rake down Carol’s back, leaving red trails on her skin, and the pain only drives her to go harder.
“Faster.” Zosia pants, urgency in her voice now. “Can you go faster for me, baby? Please?”
“Y-yes.” Carol nods, stuttering at the way Zosia is talking to her – still dominant even underneath her, still in control even while being fucked. She takes a deep breath, adjusts the angle of her hips, and starts thrusting harder.
“Yes.” Zosia moans, her head falling back against the pillow. “Like that, Carol. Exactly like that.”
“You like it?” Carol asks confidently. “You like being fucked by me?”
“Very much.” Zosia answers without hesitation, her legs wrapping around Carol’s waist, pulling her deeper. “Yes, I do. You’re so good, baby. So good for me.”
“Keep it up.” Zosia moans as the movements get faster, the bed starting to creak beneath them, knocking against the wall in a steady rhythm. “Don’t stop. Don’t stop, Carol.”
Carol drives her hips forward, captivated by the sight of Zosia beneath her – dark hair spread across the pillow, lips parted, tits bouncing with every thrust. She thinks of all the ideas swirling in her head, of Raban and Lucasia, of how she’s going to write this scene, of how inspiration is finally flowing through her like it hasn’t in days.
“You’re so tight.” Carol murmurs, her hands roaming over Zosia’s body, squeezing her tits, brushing over hardened nipples. “Your pussy takes my cock so well.”
“Carol.” Zosia moans, her voice climbing higher. “Carol, I’m close. I’m so close.”
“Yeah?” Carol asks, feeling the power in it, in making Zosia beg. “Are you going to cum for me?”
“I’m going to come.” Zosia confirms, her nails digging harder into Carol’s back. “Faster, Carol. Please, faster.”
Carol obeys, increasing the pace until she’s fucking Zosia with an intensity that makes her own muscles burn. But she doesn’t stop because seeing Zosia like this – lost, desperate, moaning – is worth every bit of effort.
“That’s it.” Carol encourages, one hand sliding down to rub Zosia’s clit. “Come for me. Let yourself tighten around my cock, baby.”
“Carol, I— I’m going to—”
“Cum for me.” Carol orders, trying to keep her voice steady, but she’s getting so wet again just from being inside the brunette. “You can cum. I want to feel your pussy soaking my cock.” Her words turn more desperate. “I don’t care if you make a mess. I just need to fill you more and more.”
Zosia moans then – loud, uncontrollable – coming as her whole body trembles. Her legs clamp around Carol’s waist, nails scratching her back, and she screams the blonde’s name as the orgasm tears through her.
When the climax finally subsides, everything between them feels like a mess. The bed is wrecked, sheets twisted and damp with sweat. The heat of their bodies still fills the dark room. And Carol is still inside her, moving more slowly now, drawing the pleasure out, kissing Zosia’s neck, from her jawline to her swollen lips.
And Carol keeps filling her. She keeps pushing the strap into her even though Zosia has just come, the harness sliding inside slicker now, letting her go deeper, pushing even further. Carol didn’t know how much she needed this until now – didn’t know how freeing it would feel to have control, to have power, to have Zosia moaning beneath her.
She watches Zosia’s face – blown pupils, parted lips, dark strands stuck to her sweaty forehead – and for a moment she thinks of Raban. The dilated pupils, the dark hair, everything… perfect.
Raban is a woman.
Raban needs to be a woman.
The realization hits her like lightning, and she almost laughs at how obvious it is. Of course Raban is a woman. She always was. Carol was just afraid to admit it, afraid to write it, afraid to—
“I feel so full.” Zosia trembles desperately, interrupting Carol’s thoughts. “Carol, it’s— it’s too much—”
“Say you like it.” Carol orders, her hands gripping Zosia’s hips, pulling her into every thrust. “Say it.”
“I-I like it,” Zosia pants, her voice broken, desperate. “I love it, Carol. I love feeling your cock— I love how you fuck me—”
The movements turn rougher, the thrusts deeper. Carol’s hands grab Zosia’s ass, hauling her up hard, and their mouths crash together in a messy, desperate kiss. For a moment Carol can feel Zosia’s saliva spilling into her mouth, mixing with her own, as they keep fucking.
“Huh—” Zosia’s body shudders violently as she comes again against the strap, a muffled cry tearing from her throat.
“I can’t get enough of this pussy.” Carol murmurs desperately, still moving, still fucking Zosia through the orgasm. “You’re so perfect. Soso good for me.”
“It’s okay, Carol.” Zosia pants, and even trembling, she pulls Carol closer. “Just— take whatever you need from us.” She can feel another orgasm building. “We don’t mind. We want to give you this.”
“You really want to read my book?” Carol asks, something vulnerable in the question even as she keeps thrusting with a smile.
Y-yes.” Zosia confirms desperately, her hands gripping Carol’s shoulders. “We… love everything you— ah! — write. We want— huh— we want to read about Raban and—”
She comes again, her body arching violently, and Carol holds her through it, finally slowing her movements until she stops completely.
“That was good.” Zosia murmurs once she can breathe again, genuine satisfaction in her voice.
“You liked it?” Carol asks. She pulls back just enough to look into Zosia’s eyes, searching for confirmation.
“Yes.” Zosia answers, one hand rising to caress Carol’s face, her thumb tracing her lower lip. “You were perfect for us. With me.” She pauses, then that teasing smile returns. “Will you share the new ideas for Song of Wycaro with us?”
Carol smiles. “You need some water first.” she says, pulling back and carefully removing the dildo. “Then we can sleep.”
“Okay.” Zosia agrees, watching as Carol takes off the harness.
The blonde leaves the room and comes back a few minutes later with a glass of water. She hands it to Zosia, who drinks quietly, feeling the cool liquid soothe her dry throat. Carol then lies down beside her on the messy bed, and Zosia pulls her close. Carol goes without resistance, burying her face in the brunette’s neck, breathing in her scent – sweat and sex.
“Good night, Zosia.” Carol murmurs against her skin, her voice already heavy with sleep.
“Good night, Carol.”
There’s a moment of silence, then—
“Carol?” Zosia calls softly.
“Yes?”
“Sweet dreams.”
Carol smiles against Zosia’s neck, her arms tightening around the brunette’s waist, pulling her closer. Sleep comes quickly, and soon they’re both asleep.
The next morning, Zosia wakes up alone in bed.
For a moment there’s confusion – where is Carol? – but then she hears it. The sound of fingers tapping rapidly and steadily on a keyboard, coming from the next room. A smile spreads across Zosia’s face. She sits up, pulling the sheet around her body, and just listens for a moment. The sound of writing. The sound of Carol creating something again.
Zosia gets up, looking for something to wear, and finds Carol’s cardigan tossed over a chair. She picks it up and wraps it around herself, feeling the soft fabric against her skin, still carrying Carol’s scent. Memories of the night before flood her mind – desperate hands, loud moans, the way Carol looked at her when she finally took control.
And the world feels completely in love with her.
Including Zosia.
Or maybe not Zosia. Maybe the hivemind. Maybe all of them – billions of consciousnesses watching through Zosia’s eyes, feeling through Zosia’s body, loving through Zosia.
She walks to the bedroom door, leaning against the frame, and watches Carol.