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We’ve only just reunited, Vina had whispered, I can’t undress you on a rooftop.
Why not? Simran had asked, If I want you to, and you want me to, why not?
Of the many good and logical reasons, Vina could not find a single one that rivaled her desire, that could compare to twenty years of lost identity and the instant ache that had filled her chest at the first memory of Simran. And so she went to her. She kissed her, she traced the invisible outlines of long-lost tattoos and dipped her fingers lower.
“I fear I missed you without even knowing,” Simran murmured, her voice cut off with a sharp intake of breath as Vina’s fingers pressed against her most sensitive spot, rubbing it in careful, practiced circles, “Oh…”
“Imagine how much it would have hurt if you knew,” Vina murmured, a sad smile on her face as her fingers moved faster, her eyes following the euphoric movements of Simran’s face— how her lips formed a wide O, how her hips began to move of their own accord, her eyes fluttering shut as her head tipped back against the cloak they had laid out beneath them, “Enough of all that, darling. It is just us, for once. No tale, just my fingers. Can you focus on my fingers, my love?”
“Yes,” Simran breathed out, her body squirming, back arching as Vina brought her closer and closer to the edge. Simran’s hands clutched at Vina— her biceps, her sides, desperate for purchase as she writhed against her. “You— oh, I— You mentioned your strap, that night. We— I must—“
“Shhh…” Vina whispered, kissing the corner of Simran’s mouth, her jaw, before leaning down to suck a dark mark in the side of her neck, satisfied at the whimper she elicited from her lover. “You’ll have it. I’ll fuck you just how you like, love.”
Two fingers slipped inside Simran, and her body jolted, suddenly overcome, the noises flowing from her mouth drowned out by the sounds of the city, but heard by Vina. She wanted a night like that again. Perhaps in a more comfortable room, not tainted by death a false fate. Perhaps after their war was won.
“We’ll be on plush sheets,” Vina continued, as Simran grew louder and louder, “Alone, truly. No swords hanging over our heads. And I’ll fuck you however you tell me to.”
Simran let out a sharp cry, still unable to speak, and her nails dug into Vina’s ribs— closer and closer. She liked this.
“And we’ll bathe together, and I’ll ride your face. You seemed to enjoy it last time,” Vina curled her fingers inside Simran, satisfied with the agonized moan she let out, as if she was fighting herself— unsure whether to come or let this continue longer, “I’ll fuck you in ways you’ve only dreamed of. I dream of it every day, of how I’ll please you.”
Simran came then, with a loud gasp, as if she were fighting for air. Vina was sure the woman had never gone this long without responding to her with some quick, cutthroat comment, and she hoped this would remain the only way that could happen. She either wanted cutthroat comments, or this beautiful look on Simran’s face. No in between.
She felt Simran tighten and spasm around her, the woman’s legs shaking and clenching at Vina’s thighs, her hand impossibly pressed between her legs. Until she relaxed, and Vina pulled them out, gently wiping them on Simran’s thighs.
“You— Oh, I wish—“ Simran stuttered, the furrow between her brows telling Vina that it was all coming back to her— the fear, the danger ahead of them. She needed to forget about all of that for a moment.
Vina kissed her again.
“Think only of me,” she murmured, their lips brushing over and over, Vina’s tongue licking hot and desperate into Simran’s mouth. She felt herself then feverish with want. For a better life, a love without limits, and this fleeting moment where she could touch her. “Wish for nothing.”
“I—“ Simran stuttered again, her eyes searching all over Vina’s face when she pulled away, before Vina saw the nervous movement of her throat when she swallowed, and then nodded, “Only of you.”
“Only of me,” Vina repeated, kissing her brow, her hand sliding between Simran’s sensitive thighs again, needing to give her more, to remedy these lost, terrible years of hers. “Only of me.”