Work Text:
Exiting a nondescript warehouse into the early evening sun, Stella tugs down her mask and pulls back the hood of her white over-suit. As she heads over to check in with the crime scene manager, her mobile starts vibrating. Stopping to unzip the suit and access her pocket, she answers without looking at the display.
“Gibson.”
“Stella. It’s Reed Smith.”
“Oh.” She pauses. This is unexpected. “Hi.”
“Hi,” Reed says warmly. “Is this a bad time?”
“I have a few minutes. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” Reed inhales. “I’m coming to London at the end of the month, and I thought, if you’re free, we could have a drink.”
“Yes,” Stella replies, turning away from the activity outside the scene. “It’d be lovely to see you.” She smiles faintly; her eyes soften.
“Great, good. Okay.” Reed fumbles with her words a little. “I’m giving a talk on the 24th; I’ll be in town for a few days.”
“Where is your talk? Can I come?”
“UCL. Free and open to the public.” Stella can hear Reed smile through the phone, and she swells with longing. “I’ll send you the details.”
“Please do.”
They pause; a silence settles. For a moment, for both of them, Stella is in Belfast. She and Reed have kept in somewhat regular touch, and there’s always a certain heaviness to the silences they both let linger. Sometimes it’s awkward; sometimes it aches. When Stella’s really honest with herself—when she’s in bed at night and there are no more distractions—she knows what she’s not saying. I miss you. I want you. Will I see you again?
She wonders what Reed isn’t saying.
They’d left things on friendly terms, of course. When they said goodbye, Stella indulged herself, leaving a tender kiss on Reed’s full lips. They never spoke about it, nor about the night they almost spent together.
Someone calls Stella’s name from a distance.
“I should go,” she says quietly.
“Okay. Call me tomorrow or whenever to finalize plans?”
“I will.” They exchange goodbyes, and Stella turns back toward her work, grateful for the current distraction.
****
It isn’t until Stella arrives on the UCL campus that she realizes she doesn’t actually know where, precisely, the science library is. By the time she finds a directory and makes the walk, she’s late. Two minutes late, but still—she hates being late.
She enters the small auditorium, which is quite near capacity, just as the chair of the sponsoring department begins introducing Reed. Stella decides to stand in the back rather than climb over people to try finding a seat, and as the intro is wrapping up, her eyes find and meet Reed’s. Upon seeing Stella, Reed’s eyes brighten and she breaks into a brief open grin. Stella returns the smile and acknowledges her with a subtle wave.
And then Reed is at the podium, and she’s talking, and there are slides to look at, but Stella isn’t paying much attention to the content of the lecture. Instead, she watches her and remembers. Remembers their work together, their friendship, the handful of kisses they’d shared, the way she seemed so unsure—yet never afraid—around Stella. Motorcycle, leather jacket, dark eyes, inviting lips, steady hands.
Rose. Spector. Olson. Burns.
But also—Reed. Stella’s only reprieve in Belfast. Was it the intensity of the case, the shared guilt over Rose that made their bond feel sacred somehow? Standing in an unfamiliar auditorium, watching Reed, hearing her voice even if not processing her words, Stella realizes for the first time that Reed is something else entirely. She has nothing to compare her to, nothing to help her estimate risks and odds. How is it possible she feels this way after so many months?
Stella’s cheeks flush and she looks down at the floor, trying to refocus and listen to what Reed is actually saying. There’s a reception after the lecture, and Stella might have to make small talk. Then she’ll take Reed to dinner where they will, they’d agreed, catch up.
‘What does that even mean?’ Stella had thought to herself then, and she thinks it again now.
She inhales slowly through her nose and exhales through pursed lips. Reed already turned her down once; she should tread carefully. It’s not unreasonable to expect her to make the move, if indeed a move is to be made. Feeling a bit more centered, Stella listens to the last twenty minutes of Reed’s lecture and isn’t surprised that it’s fascinating.
****
Stella stands against a wall in the lobby outside the auditorium, a small plastic cup of wine in her hands, where she watches students and scholars approach Reed with questions, introductions, or to thank her for the talk. She’s fairly sure one young woman is trying to flirt with the professor, maybe even pick her up, and Stella wonders if Reed ever sleeps with people when she’s away at conferences or visiting other universities. On one hand, she doesn’t seem like the type, but on the other hand, there’s really no such thing as a type when it comes to these things. And Reed does have a streak of rebellion in her, an attraction to danger, to mystery and taboo. Whether it applies to sex, especially extramarital sex, is what Stella always seems to find herself asking.
When the crowd begins thinning out, Reed takes an opportunity to sneak away and signals Stella to meet her in the loo. She walks in, and there’s Reed. Finally. They smile, and when their eyes meet, there’s a little burst of warmth, like happy relief, at the welcome they see in the other. Then they begin talking over one another, exchanging greetings, and the space between them diminishes; they embrace.
Reed pulls away and says, “I really have to pee though!” Stella laughs, and Reed rushes into a stall.
Stella glances at herself in the mirrors above the sink and runs her hands through her hair a bit. Reining in her errant thoughts, she looks sternly into her own eyes.
“My mind is always going in a million different directions after these things,” Reed says from within the stall. “So if I seem a little distracted, that’s why. It’ll pass once we’re out of here.” There’s a flush, and she exits.
“You don’t seem distracted,” Stella says. “The talk was great; you’re brilliant.”
“Thanks.” Reed dispenses some soap and turns on the water. “I’m mostly just glad it’s over.”
“You have quite the fan club.” Stella stands a few feet behind her and slightly to one side, and they look at each other in the mirror.
“There are eager people in every audience, in my experience.” Reed’s gaze narrows. “Why?”
“I was observing body language, and if you’re looking to get laid tonight,” Stella’s voice is matter-of-fact, merely relaying data gathered elsewhere, “that grad student with red hair, asymmetrical cut? She’s your best bet.”
“Are you serious?” Reed asks, her eyes skeptical for a moment. “Or are you jealous?” She cocks her head to the side in the mirror.
“Both,” Stella admits plainly.
Reed doesn’t respond but dries her hands and considers Stella curiously. The wine adds a rosy touch to her cheeks, and her hands are stuffed in the pockets of her trousers. She’s as beautiful as ever.
****
They share a car to the restaurant—a small bistro not too far from the university that Stella hasn’t been to in ages. They order a bottle of wine straight away and haven’t so much as glanced at the menu when it arrives. Reed keeps filling the silence with words, and Stella is content to let her, to have the chance to just listen and look at her. Once their wine is poured, they peruse the menu and make their selections. Stella signals the server when they’re ready; Reed orders pasta, and Stella will have steak.
Reed’s face flushes a little from the wine, and after the first glass, she’s too warm to leave her blazer on. She shrugs it off and hangs it over the back of her chair. Stella’s lips part the tiniest bit; Reed’s blouse is deep red and sleeveless, and it puts the perfect curve of her shoulders on display. And all of that bare skin, her toned arms, culminating in those skillful hands…
“So’ve been seeing anyone?” Reed asks as she pours her next glass.
Luckily, Stella is mid-sip, so not only is her surprise at the question easier to hide, but she has a few extra moments to recover from it, too.
“Depends what you mean by ‘seeing,’” she says slowly.
“I don’t know… dating?”
“No.” If Stella’s not mistaken, she sees a flash of relief.
“Ah. Too busy with work?”
Stella looks her in the eye and lets the question linger before answering, evenly, “No.”
Reed gets lucky when their food arrives, because she has no idea how to respond to that. Still, she can’t break her gaze.
Stella smirks (just barely) and pretends not to notice Reed’s blush. She thanks the server and looks down at her plate. Steak was the right choice.
****
When Stella returns to her flat just past ten, she is frustrated. And a little confused. She’d kept her promise—and her hands—to herself, but there was tension all through their dinner. Even though they avoided certain topics, Reed kept stealing looks at Stella’s mouth, her neck, her hands.
But she didn’t make a move. At least not an explicit one, and Stella needs it to be clear. People don’t usually get the chance to reject her twice.
As she changes into bedclothes and washes her face, Stella wonders if she was just imagining things, just thinking wishfully. And as she walks to the kitchen and pours herself a nightcap, she dissects every moment of their parting.
Reed had gathered her in a light embrace. The heat of her breath danced against Stella’s ear as she whispered, “Goodnight.” Her mouth pressed gently to her cheek before she pulled away. She smiled and blushed then turned and walked off.
It was barely anything. It was the kind of goodnight kiss you’d give a friend. Because that’s what they are, Stella tells herself: friends. How many times does she need Reed to send the message before she’ll receive it? Reed is just a friend.
Except it doesn’t feel that way, the back of her brain reminds her.
She plops onto the couch with a disappointed sigh and reaches for her laptop. Nursing her whiskey, she checks her email and starts reading an article she’d bookmarked earlier, putting off deciding between work and sleep. Neither seems like an achievable goal at the moment, and focus is hard to come by. She navigates away from the article and browses Netflix instead.
The ring of her mobile startles her slightly, and when she notes the caller ID, she furrows her brow.
“Reed?”
“What are you doing?” she asks quickly.
“Internet,” Stella answers vaguely. “You?”
“I’m downstairs. Can I come up?”
Stella stands and walks to the window. Pushing the curtain aside, she looks down three floors to the street, and sure enough, Reed paces the sidewalk. Her stomach tightens.
“I’ll buzz you in.” She hangs up and goes to the intercom, glancing around her flat and its clutter and down at her worn-in pajamas. Oh well.
Stella closes her eyes, breathes, tells herself to behave. When there’s a light knock, she exhales and opens the door.
“Hi,” Reed says, nervous energy simmering beneath a calm exterior.
“Hi.” Stella steps aside to let her enter.
“There’s something I forgot to tell you,” Reed says.
Stella locks up behind Reed and turns to face her. Her eyes widen briefly, curious, but she’s unprepared. She relies on ritual. “Do you want a drink?”
Reed notes Stella’s patterned cotton pajama bottoms and the white t-shirt that makes clear she’s not wearing a bra. Her hair is pulled back and her face looks freshly scrubbed. Even like this—in a way, especially like this—she is stunning.
“Um, sure.” She removes her coat and lays it over the back of a chair.
Stella notices that Reed’s clothes are different, too; she must have gone to her hotel. She’s wearing jeans and a black Henley that fits snugly against her curves. Stella goes to the kitchen and returns with an empty glass, a glass with ice, and the bottle of whiskey.
They sit on the edge of the sofa, and Stella pours Reed a drink then tops off her own. She slides Reed’s drink over to her and offers the ice. Reed takes one, drops it into her glass, and swirls it around a few times as she sits back, pulling her legs up underneath her. Stella follows suit.
“So, what did you forget to tell me?” Stella turns to face her and keeps her gaze affixed to Reed.
“Not ‘forget’ so much as lose my courage.”
“Oh?” Eyebrows rise.
“Do you ever think about that night in Belfast, when you kissed me and we almost…?”
“Yes.”
“I lost my courage that night, too,” Reed explains. “But I was married, and I have children and students and a public career, and in a town like Belfast…” she trails off.
“I understand,” Stella assures her evenly, “I did then, and I do now.”
Reed chuckles to herself and says, “Sometimes I wish you weren’t so understanding.”
“Why do you say that?” she asks.
“Why do you think?” Reed’s eyes narrow, and her voice lowers.
Stella’s face reddens. No one—not one single person—has ever made her blush with such ease.
“What did you forget to tell me?” Stella almost exhales the question.
“I left my husband.”
“Really?” Reed nods her confirmation. “When?”
“A few months ago.”
“Wow,” Stella breathes out. She sips her drink slowly, not quite knowing what to say. Does this qualify as Reed making a move? She did come all the way out here. She did show up unannounced. An hour after saying goodnight.
“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you,” Reed confesses before standing and beginning to pace with her drink in her hand. “I didn’t know if I’d still be attracted to you, or if my attraction to you was a product of my unhappiness in my marriage. I worried that I just liked the newness of you, the difference, or that what I felt was because we worked such a difficult case…”
Stella doesn’t respond. She just looks at Reed with gentle intensity, the smallest hint of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
Reed stops pacing and asks, “You think about that night?”
“Yes.” Her voice is low but clear. “I think about you. I miss you.”
“You do?”
Reed’s nerves, her bare vulnerability, strike Stella in the chest. She stands and moves toward her carefully, wanting to reassure her but finding she still needs reassurance herself.
“It feels strange,” Stella confesses, “like I have no right to miss something I never really had.”
Reed sets her drink on the closest surface and meets Stella halfway.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she drawls as their hands touch and slide up forearms, and they enter each other’s space. They sigh quietly, shaky, and look into the other’s eyes.
“This,” Stella says softly, gesturing with her head to their bodies and quirking an eyebrow, “isn’t ridiculous?”
“No,” Reed replies, her voice quiet but sure. “This is…” She pauses, scanning her brain for words, but there aren’t very many. Her eyes darken and rise to meet Stella’s, and she leans forward and kisses her—light and careful. “This is what I want.” Reed’s hands move to Stella’s waist, hips, lower back.
And Stella’s hands rise to Reed’s face, her neck, into her hair. She pulls Reed’s mouth to hers as Reed pulls her in by her hips. When their lips meet, it’s warm and soft and both women exhale heavily. Their bodies relax into each other, and the kiss deepens.
With the first brush of Reed’s tongue against her bottom lip, Stella’s desire flares. She has kept this small flame burning, against her better judgment and out of line with her usual habits, without realizing how ready it was to seize Reed’s spark. She moans softly into Reed’s mouth.
Reed has been holding onto this heat, too. She had set the idea of Stella-as-lover on the furthest shelf in her mind, checking in on it once in a while and each time surprised by its steadiness, its endurance. Opening her mouth, she accepts Stella’s tongue and pulls her body closer. They hold one another, kissing, letting the warmth of their tongues and the fire in their skin crackle between their legs.
Reed’s hands slide beneath Stella’s shirt and up her back, and Stella breaks their kiss, breathless. She’s teetering on the edge, wanting to unleash, but Reed’s touch makes her hesitate. Because it’s good. It is right and familiar but new and electric. And now Reed’s mouth finds her jaw, her ear, her neck, and Stella learns again that this woman is unlike anything or anyone else.
“Stay with me tonight,” she says softly, a subtle undertone of pleading.
Reed pulls back from Stella’s neck to look in her eyes. There is fear in them, and the image of Stella’s face right before she walked away from the elevator flashes through Reed’s mind. She brings a hand to Stella’s cheek, brushing her thumb over her lips and placing a gentle kiss there.
“Why do you think I’m here?” she asks. Stella’s eyes are locked into Reed’s, searching, but she doesn’t answer.
Reed finds Stella’s hands at her lower back and covers them with her own. Then she takes them, never breaking her gaze, and begins moving them around and up her body. As she guides Stella, she lets their hands push the hem of her shirt higher, exposing her lower abdomen and her waist.
Stella draws in a shaky breath when she feels the smooth warmth of Reed’s skin, and her grip tightens, wanting to feel the soft and the firm of her. Her eyes dart down and her fingers graze ribs, and when she looks back up at Reed and sees nothing but desire on her face, her fear relents to hunger. She pulls Reed to her and captures her in a kiss, its force almost immediately giving way to depth.
Reed moans into Stella’s mouth and snakes her arms around her torso, holding her body as firmly against Stella’s as she can, almost afraid not to, for fear that this time Stella will be the one to walk away.
But their kisses only become more passionate, more intense, and soon Stella is pulling away to lift Reed’s shirt from her body. Reed pulls Stella’s mouth back to hers and lets Stella walk her backward until she’s pinned against the wall. A thigh slips between Reed’s legs, and she inhales sharply before pressing her pelvis down.
Stella murmurs something low and deep, almost a growl, as her fingers push Reed’s bra straps off her shoulders. Then her lips find Reed’s neck, her clavicle, her shoulders, breathing in a heady combination of her taste and scent.
Sighing with pleasure, Reed tugs the elastic out of Stella’s hair and threads her fingers through it. Her skin is alive beneath Stella’s hands and lips, and she doesn’t even realize that her bra is coming off until it’s gone.
Stella pauses momentarily to rake her eyes over Reed’s bare shoulders, the plane of her chest, the rise and fullness of her breasts.
Then she pulls Reed away from the wall and redirects their bodies, maneuvering them until the backs of Reed’s legs touch the edge of an armchair. Stella slides down further with her lips and hands. She trails kisses from Reed’s sternum to her belly button. Her hands graze the curves of her breasts and waist before coming to rest on upper thighs, and she kneels on the floor. Stella sits back on her heels so she can remove Reed’s boots then her hands slide to unbutton Reed’s jeans.
Everything in her is torn between devouring Reed and savoring each little piece of her, and Stella is sure she’s never been so helpless in her want. She allows herself a few tiny kisses at the newly exposed skin.
“Sit,” she instructs, applying gentle pressure on Reed’s hips until she complies. She rises to stand above her, their eyes meet, and Reed detects a hint of shyness in her brilliant blue.
“Come closer,” Reed says, reaching out to grasp at her thighs. She parts her legs and pulls Stella toward her so she’s standing between her knees, and her fingers begin playing at t-shirt hem. Reed looks up at Stella and slowly lifts her shirt until she can lean in and kiss her abdomen, her belly; so she can bite gently at bone; so she can run her cheeks, forehead, and nose over the warm smooth skin at her middle. Breathing heavily, Stella pulls her own shirt off then tangles her hands in Reed’s hair.
There’s a nanosecond in which Reed worries that she doesn’t know what she’s doing, but as soon as Stella’s breasts fill her hands, all concern vanishes.
“Beautiful,” she whispers reverently before brushing her thumbs lightly over Stella’s already hardened nipples, eliciting a small moan and a slight rock of her hips. Reed moans, too, as Stella’s reactions send a small bolt of heat from her head to her crotch.
In one fluid motion, Reed pushes Stella back, brings her own legs together, and pulls Stella toward her so that she ends up straddling her lap. Stella’s lips crash into Reed’s, her hands finding her face, her hair. Reed’s hands slip to Stella’s ass and hold her there firmly. One woman’s hips start moving then the other’s do, too, which reminds Stella that only two thin layers of fabric separate her sex from Reed’s touch.
They kiss passionately, deeply, one’s moans and murmurs and sighs becoming indistinguishable from the other’s. Stella’s hands slide to Reed’s breasts, squeezing gently before grazing her fingertips and palms over darkened nipples. Pleased by her response, Stella plays at her nipples more assertively, first pinching lightly then a bit harder, and rolling them between thumb and forefinger.
Stella wonders if Reed could possibly be as wet as she is, and in the next moment, she’s breaking their kiss and sliding back on Reed’s lap. Reed barely has a moment to register the loss of Stella’s heat before fingertips are undoing her zipper and Stella is once again kneeling on the floor. Their eyes meet, chests heaving with excitement and arousal, and Reed lifts her ass so Stella can tug her jeans down.
Sitting back a little, Stella finishes pulling off Reed’s jeans, tosses them aside, and lets her gaze wash over her. She wears nothing but black cotton boy shorts and her tousled hair falls over her shoulders. Her eyes are dark with desire, her nipples swollen from attention. Stella is speechless, her expression a mixture of hunger and awe as she studies Reed’s toned calves, caramel skin, parted lips, errant strands of black hair.
One of her hands slides between Reed’s legs, caressing her through the damp flimsy material of her underwear. Reed groans and tries to push harder into Stella’s hand, but it’s already gone, her thumbs hooking into the side of Reed’s panties. Once she’s divested Reed of her underwear, she cups her ass and pulls her forward until she’s at the very edge of the chair.
“Lean back,” Stella whispers.
And as she does, Reed lets her legs fall open. Stella’s lips part as Reed’s legs do, and she caresses her thighs gently. Every second since she showed up has felt like the point of no return, but this moment must truly be it, Stella thinks, and she locks her eyes into Reed’s.
“Yes,” Reed breathes in response to Stella’s silent question.
Nostrils flared with intent, Stella licks her lips and repositions. She murmurs approvingly as she dips her tongue in, and when she feels Reed shudder, her desire nearly overwhelms her. Stella begins kissing and sucking and licking at Reed’s labia and clit with a hunger bordering on need. This hunger is not for Reed’s orgasm—although she will lap that up, too—but for Reed alone. Just for her. For her pleasure in each little moment, with each little movement, as it happens.
“God that feels good,” Reed pants, and her pelvis undulates against Stella’s face, fingers tangling softly in blonde hair. Is it possible she might come already? “Fuck.”
As if reading her mind, Stella’s tongue switches from frantic to deliberate, from frenzied to controlled. And then a finger—no, two fingers—enter. Reed bears down hard, groaning.
Stella can tell she’s close, and she almost wishes Reed wouldn’t orgasm so she can just revel in making out with her cunt. So she can take the time to explore the rises and ridges and softness of her sex. So she can test and tease and play until Reed begs.
But her own body knows how long she’s wanted this, how long she’s waited, and something about Reed’s needy mewls gives her the impression that Reed has been wanting and waiting just as long. So when Reed murmurs “ohgod” with a heavy exhale and then whispers “harder,” there’s no question that Stella is going to give her what she wants.
Fucking her harder, Stella hums her own excitement into Reed’s pussy as she sweeps her tongue in small light circular motions. She sees one of Reed’s hands grip the arm of the chair as her body tenses slightly, and her other hand pulls at one of her own nipples. Stella breaks the rhythm of her tongue only long enough to swear at how sexy Reed is, how fucking tight she is, then she resumes her ministrations.
Reed feels her orgasm bubbling up deep within. She is brimming with pleasure, and in mere moments, she overflows. A succession of sounds she hears as if they aren’t even her own echo forth and fill the air surrounding them.
As her hips thrust wildly, Stella meets Reed with fingers and mouth, her own noises of arousal and encouragement growing stronger. She confronts another version of the truth that Reed is something else, something other than what she’s ever known or had before. The awareness floats through her at the same time as Reed pulls her mouth up to meet her lips in a messy kiss.
Maybe Reed is thinking something similar, because almost immediately—still coming down, still panting—she pounces. She lifts her body and pushes Stella backward, and she doesn’t stop moving until Stella is on her back on the floor with Reed hovering above her.
“You’re beautiful,” Stella whispers, and for a moment she’s convinced this isn’t real, that it’s just some incredibly lucid dream.
But then Reed smiles, reaches for the waistband of Stella’s pajama pants, and moves down to begin pulling them off. Stella’s hips rise to let her, and she watches Reed leave kisses on the top of her thighs and down her calves as she uncovers more terrain.
After discarding the garment, Reed stops and takes in the image of Stella laid out on the floor in nothing but a tiny pair of ivory panties. Her eyes traverse each dip and curve and plane of skin within sight, and she notices a blush rise to Stella’s cheeks and chest. Then her fingers trace from ankle to knee, from patella to iliac crest.
“I’ve never wanted someone so badly,” Reed says quietly, realizing its truth in the moment of admission.
Stella responds by sitting up halfway, capturing her in a kiss, and pulling Reed back down on top of her. And when Reed’s body, its perfect heat and weight and shape, comes into contact with Stella’s own, Stella whimpers in welcome and need.
Reed, too, is overcome with the sensation of so much smooth pale skin beneath and against her, and she melts into Stella, touching her all over.
Their kissing deepens, becomes heavier and wetter and noisier. Clinging to one another, it’s in this moment, on the well-worn area rug in Stella’s sitting room, that all the months and weeks and hours of unfulfilled desire overtake them. Language dissolves into only feeling, only good; reduces itself to want and yes. The only thinking necessary has no interest in rationalization. They roll around like drunk uni students, groping and grabbing and grinding against each other.
When her hand slips between Stella’s legs, Reed sighs. Stella groans deeply and pulls out of their kiss, panting.
“Where is your bedroom?” Reed asks, her voice low, a single finger lightly caressing Stella through her underwear.
“On the left,” she manages, gesturing toward the hallway behind them.
Reed wrests herself from Stella and stands. She reaches down to take her hand and help her up, and once she’s standing, she says, “Show me.”
The light is already on, and Reed recognizes Stella’s clothes from earlier in the evening tossed haphazardly on the unmade bed. Stella quickly moves them to the floor. Sensing a shift in energy, the return of nerves as eyes dart around the room, Reed intervenes and steps into Stella's space.
“Why are these still on?” One hand slips between two legs to feel damp fabric. Two women moan with pleasure. Two thumbs slide beneath a lace waistband. One pair of dark eyes watches one pair of panties slide down and off.
Reed drops a handful of kisses along Stella’s shoulder then whispers, her hands resting gently on bare hips, “Lie down.”
Stella does as she’s told, her eyelids heavy, shading a blue made more alive in anticipation. Reed stands above her, studying her body as it reclines and sinks into the thick comforter. Her gaze travels up from thighs to hips to breasts, and she notes with pleasure Stella’s heaving chest and parted lips.
“That night you kissed me, and I left you in a lurch,” Reed begins, locking her eyes into Stella’s, “You had me so turned on, I had to masturbate as soon as I got home.” Stella moans. “I couldn’t believe how wet I was from a few kisses and a stroll down a corridor.” They smile knowingly. “But what I found myself imagining afterward, as I was trying to let my mind wander enough to fall asleep, really got me going.”
“Are you trying to kill me?” Stella rasps, her hips sinking into the bed. One of her hands absentmindedly draws slow circles across her belly.
Reed sits on the edge of the bed, still looking at Stella. “I must’ve been thinking about work, because suddenly, there was your naked body on my lab table. Alive. Looking very much like you look right now, in fact; all the way down to the impatient writhing.” Stella exhales a heavy breath. Reed smiles and climbs onto the bed. She crawls over Stella. Her voice turns husky; she says, “The examination I proceeded to perform got me excited all over again.”
“Am I here for my examination, doctor?” Stella’s voice lowers and she narrows her eyes.
“Mmmm. Tempting.” Her fingers and eyes graze Stella’s breasts. “But not now.” She leans down and kisses her. “Now, I need to see you come, and I don’t think either of us can wait.”
Stella moans and her hands go to Reed’s hair, pulling her back into a needy kiss. Her back arches, and she gasps lightly when Reed’s teeth find her neck, her ear, her shoulder.
Reed wastes little time. She slips one leg between Stella’s, then the second, and Stella’s legs wrap around her, pulling her down. Stella’s pussy is sticky and wet against Reed’s stomach, and she growls at the sensation, at the knowledge it brings of Stella’s arousal. Snaking her hand between their bodies, Reed touches her, feels her heat and slickness.
“Fuck,” Reed says as Stella’s body quivers.
Her fingers play lightly, tenderly in the folds of her labia. She pulls away so she can see her. So she can learn her with her eyes, too. So she can watch where she touches and what it makes Stella do, how it makes her move. And the more Reed learns, the more she wants to know.
Stella whimpers beneath Reed's touch, writhing. She doesn’t have to ask; her hips are already making their plea. Reed slips her middle finger inside and she’s hit with a powerful wave of arousal, a kind of desire she’s never felt. Stella moans and rocks into Reed, and there is revelation in this moment; in the perfection of her warmth and her softness; in how right it feels to be inside her.
“More,” Stella whispers. When Reed’s index finger enters, she hisses, “Yessss.”
Stella grips the sheets with one hand while the other travels south to tease her clit. The look on Reed’s face, her furrowed brow and parted lips… Stella can see the intent and excitement in her dark eyes, and it’s incredible. She’s incredible. Nothing else exists.
“Look at me,” Stella gasps, her fingers and Reed’s fingers moving in rhythm with her grinding hips. Reed’s eyes dart up to meet Stella’s, and they both inhale sharply. “Deeper…. oh fuck.”
Recognizing desperation, Reed begins to pinch and roll one of her nipples with her free hand. Then she says, with quiet authority, looking into Stella’s eyes, “Come for me.”
Her eyes flutter shut, and it’s almost like she levitates, trembling, from the bed. They cling to one another with their free arms as her body rises to meet Reed’s until she’s almost sitting in Reed’s lap. She throws her head back, and Reed instinctively goes for her exposed neck with her tongue and teeth. Stella’s pussy tightens and clenches around her. Then her hips thrust frantically around Reed’s fingers, and she begins to emanate this deep low groan that, within seconds, becomes a cry of release.
She stiffens and quakes and soars, and Reed’s eyes become wet, and she thinks this is definitely one of the most beautiful things she's experienced. She doesn’t even realize that she’s murmuring “ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod” softly in wonder and awe.
Stella, meanwhile, has effectively ceased to exist, lost in her climax, riding it out until her body knows to stop. And when she does stop, she lets herself fall backward on the bed. She holds Reed’s fingers inside her and pulls her down, too, moaning. Their mouths meet in a deep messy kiss that is still in progress as Stella slowly pulls Reed from her.
Reed rolls onto her back, bringing Stella with her, and they continue their indulgent kissing for a bit longer, until Stella pulls away and curls up against Reed’s body.
They’re silent for a while. It’s saturated with emotion, and yet, it’s the most comfortable silence they’ve shared since Stella’s early days in Belfast, when their friendship was new and relatively easy. Stella’s mind flashes back to Reed leaning over her as she lie on Sarah Kay’s bed, moving her wrists from center to either end of the headboard and taking photos, and she smirks to herself. She’d been on Reed’s scent from day one; the hunter in her is proud to have finally caught such choice prey. But overpowering her pride is relief. Relief that her instincts aren’t irreparably fucked after all. Relief that she might not have to follow through on letting her go. She nestles into Reed.
Reed smiles, hums, and holds Stella closer, tighter to her body. Turning her head slightly, she brushes her lips against Stella’s forehead and temple.
Stella looks up at her and asks, her voice raspy, “You sure you’ve never done that before?”
Reed smiles and blushes. “Was it good?”
“Was it good?” she echoes, shifting onto her elbows so she can look directly at her. “It was so good. You are so good.” Now Stella’s eyes become wet. “I feel so good with you.”
Reed touches her cheek and lifts up slightly to kiss her. When she pulls away, she whispers, “I’m sorry I took so long.”
“You took fucking forever,” Stella confirms accusingly, a touch of playfulness to fend off the tears.
Reed laughs.
Stella kisses her.
And they spend most of the next two days exactly where they are.