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“Okay, the emcee said the queue is about twenty-five minutes,” Trinity says from somewhere behind her. Mel pivots to make room for her where she’s pushed up against the bar, and Trinity slots herself in with no hesitation. “But I am definitely not doing this shit sober. Can I get a 7 and 7?” she says to the bartender when she gets their attention, practically yelling to project her voice over the noise of the crowd. The bartender nods and then turns to look at Mel, waiting for her order.
“Oh, uh,” Mel fumbles, looking back and forth between the two. Trinity’s eyebrows raise expectantly. “I don’t really drink that often. Maybe just a ginger ale?” She pauses to think. “Unless you have Sprite.”
“Make it two,” Trinity says to the bartender, who nods and accepts the outstretched credit card they’re handed. Mel gives her an uncertain look, brows pinching together, and Trinity placates her with a, “you’ll like it, it’s sweet.”
It is sweet— Mel’s eyes light up when she takes her first hesitant sip from the miniscule straw poking up out of the ice, turning to level that expression at Trinity.
“What’d I say, ah? Never doubt me again,” she says smugly, raising her own glass to knock it against Mel’s. “To our independence,” she adds sarcastically, bypassing the straw entirely to slug back a third of the drink in one go. Mel watches, vaguely impressed when she doesn’t even wince, and only wavers slightly before doing the same. She shudders at the lingering aftertaste.
“Attagirl,” Trinity crows, the corner of her lips stretching into a sincere grin, pulling Mel in by the shoulders. She can’t help but grin back, cheeks flushing pink and warm from the alcohol. “Now let’s go wail our broken little hearts out,” Trinity says, pulling them both away from the bar to find a table, still steering Mel with that steady arm.
They head bang their way through Alanis Morissette, hearts pounding the entire time, and when the crowd erupts with raucous applause they turn to each other with flushed grins and messy hair, clapping both hands together in a double high-five that ends with intertwined fingers. Mel jumps up and down a little, still riding the adrenaline high. She can’t quite remember the last time she felt so— giddy and free. It’s a nice change of pace.
“Let’s do that again,” she says, turning to walk off the stage when Trinity guides her by the shoulders. “Let’s do an ABBA song. Oh!” she exclaims, turning to look at Trinity with wide, excited eyes. “Let’s do Kelly Clarkson,” she gasps.
“You have a lot of faith in my vocal range,” Trinity says with a bemused little smirk. She continues guiding them both towards the bar just as the opening notes to No Scrubs starts blaring over the speakers. “I need another drink,” she yells, slumping over the counter when they find a free spot to shove into. “You ever done shots?”
“Oh, yeah,” Mel says. She recalls the memory— sitting cross-legged on the dingy rugged floor of her dorm room in her flannel pajamas, the revolting scent of spicy cinnamon that had burned just as badly coming back up as it had going down— and grimaces. “No fireball, though, please.”
“Blegh,” Trinity recoils, mime-retching and shaking her head. Mel grins at her antics. “Glad to know some experiences are universal.”
That makes Mel’s mind wander briefly to Becca— to Becca and Adam— and she bitterly thinks, not all of them.
“Two tequila shots with lime wedges, please,” Trinity says to the bartender after she captures their attention with an outstretched hand. “Whatever’s cheapest. And two amaretto sours.” She leans past Mel to grab the salt shaker near the lip of the bar, and the position makes her chest push up against Mel’s shoulder, the fabric brushing against the bare skin of her arm. It makes her breath hitch a little.
The bartender pours their shots out a bit messily, tequila dribbling over the edge of the glass. “Alright, first, lick your hand,” Trinity instructs, pulling the back of her hand up to her face.
“Should I go wash them first, or—” Mel starts, cutting herself off with a shake of her head when Trinity’s tongue slips out, lathering the back of her hand with a line of slick spit. She gapes at the shine of it where it catches on the dim overhead lighting before tentatively bringing up her own hand, licking small and unsure at the dry skin. It feels kind of unsanitary. It still makes her cheeks flush.
“Then salt,” Trinity says, shaking out a line onto her spit-wet hand, leaning over to do the same to Mel’s. Excess spills out onto the wooden counter below. “Lick it,” Trinity mimes, “then the shot, and then the lime. Got it?”
“Salt, shot, lime,” Mel repeats, nodding once in affirmation.
“Quick learner,” Trinity teases, and then her tongue is darting out again to lap up the mess on her hand, the salt dissolving before she’s even closed her mouth. Which Mel only knows because— she sort of can’t stop staring. It’s just a little mesmerizing, is all; the flash of pink, wet tongue against pale, pale skin. The way her throat works when she tips it back to swallow her drink. Mel scrambles to catch up when Trinity shoves the lime into her mouth, grimacing at the burn of alcohol and squinting at the sourness that follows. The shudder moves down her back this time.
“Ugh,” she recoils, shaking her whole body as if to physically repel the sensation.
“Woo!” Trinity cheers, playfully slapping Mel on the back. Her hand lingers, and it feels warm even through the layer of her t-shirt. “That’ll put some hair on your chest,” she jeers, enthusiastically accepting the tall drink that the bartender places in front of her, tipping that back, too. Mel wraps her palms around her own matching drink; she might need some water first. She tries a sip of it, anyway, and wow— this one is sweet, too. Really sweet. Was there even alcohol in there?
“So,” Trinity starts, resting her elbow against the bartop and propping her head against it. “Becca’s got a boyfriend, huh?”
Mel’s mouth quirks to the side, huffing unhappily. She tries so hard to keep her expressions in check when she’s annoyed, especially with Becca, but something about this moment— the alcohol, the camaraderie, maybe just the curious but friendly look on Trinity’s face— she doesn’t even attempt to hide it. “For the last six months, apparently.”
“Six months?” Trinity gasps, mouth dropping open gleefully. “And you just found out today?”
“Yep,” Mel says curtly. “Didn’t even know he existed until a few hours ago.”
Trinity whistles lowly, eyes wide with disbelief. “Low blow.”
“I just…” Mel starts, taking another sip for courage. It makes her cheeks flush hotter, and she’s sure she looks like a mess right now, hair wild and still falling down around her face and shoulders. “I wish she had told me, you know? Not even in an ‘I’m your caretaker’ way.”
“You wish she’d told you in an ‘I’m your sister’ way,” Trinity says.
“Exactly!” Mel exclaims. Trinity tips her drink back again, already halfway through it. Mel’s barely skimmed the top of hers. “She’s… my best friend. And I know I’m hers. It just… doesn’t feel that way sometimes. Especially when she hides things from me.”
“Boy, are you preaching to the choir,” Trinity laments. “I had this friend in college— well, actually, she was my roommate. And, you know, I guess we were kinda— more than friends. Ugh,” she cringes, wrinkling her nose and shaking the thought away. “Nevermind. That’s a whole story.”
“I want to hear it,” Mel encourages softly.
“No, you really don’t,” Trinity says, laughing once self-deprecatingly, before leveling Mel with a fond expression. “But you’re sweet. Becca’s a fool for not confiding in you.” She clinks their drinks together, and the glasses knock together hollowly. “So, what’s the plan to get back at her? I’m great at plotting out revenge schemes. The slower the better.”
“What?” Mel asks, and then Trinity snorts into her glass, spitting out a stray ice cube back into the drink. “Oh, you were joking.”
“I’m vengeance,” Trinity says with a put-upon growl, pitching her voice as deep as she can, and when Mel tilts her head in confusion she adds, “Batman?” with a tone and an expression that both say, duh.
“Oh,” Mel says again. “I don’t watch that many movies. We mostly just watch what Becca wants to watch.”
“Which is?” she asks, shaking her nearly-empty glass to the bartender across the room and giving them a thumbs up when they nod in return.
“Um… Elf. Mostly.”
“The Will Ferrell movie?” she clarifies with incredulous brows creeping up her forehead.
Mel nods, taking another miniscule sip. “A lot of, uh, Pixar, too. Toy Story, WALL-E.”
“Oh, you poor, poor soul,” Trinity laments, patting her comfortingly on the back. Her hand lingers there again, one thumb digging into the muscle at her shoulder. “And now she’s ditching you for this Adam guy?”
Mel stares down at the wood and hums miserably, but it’s really more like a whine.
“We have got to do some serious movie education for your poor, Pixar-infested brain,” Trinity says, knocking back the last of her drink when the bartender drops off a fresh one. “Actually, fuck that,” she amends, the ice clinking when she slams down the empty glass. “We need to get you laid.”
“Lai—?” she starts to echo, an embarrassing roar of fire erupting in her chest. “No, no, I don’t—”
Trinity barks out a sudden chirp of laughter, cackling almost like a cartoon witch. She’s quite flushed, too, although Mel can’t tell if it’s from the alcohol or from her delight at Mel’s stiffness.
“I bet you wish ol’ Frankie boy had ditched his bling,” Trinity teases, tapping the tip of her index to the unoccupied ring finger on her left hand. “Now that would be easy pickin’s.”
Mel’s face screws up in contemplation, blinking slowly at Trinity while she processes her words. “Oh, Dr. Langdon?” she clarifies, and Trinity gives her a clumsy nod. “No, no, we’re just colleagues. I don’t—” she cuts herself off while shaking her head, nose wrinkling at the thought.
Trinity snorts in amusement at the look on her face, bumping their shoulders together. She sways a little into Mel’s space by accident. “Yeah, tell me about it,” she mumbles into the lip of her glass, glancing over at the stage.
“I’ve never been, um,” Mel starts, fidgeting with the drink in her hands. Condensation from the ice has made the glass sweaty, and it drips down her palms in cool little rivulets. It feels a little safer, somehow, to admit this when Trinity’s attention is momentarily elsewhere. “That particularly drawn to boys. Uh— men, I mean.”
That has Trinity swiveling her head around to look at Mel head on, eyebrows flying up to her hairline. “No shit,” she says with an amused drawl, lips quirking up with glee. “I definitely had you pegged wrong, Melodrama,” she adds, and she’s saying it almost like she’s impressed, which— Mel doesn’t really know what to do with. Trinity gives her a slow but undeniably lecherous once-over, her mouth parted and still wet from the sip of her drink. “Anything else you want to share with the class?”
Her words are pitched lower now, huskier, almost hushed relative to the level of noise around them, and it makes everything feel kind of… secretive and private, despite the flood of bodies in the room. It has Mel’s heart rate spiking, knocking against the walls of her chest, blood pumping faster in her veins. Not dangerous, but still heightened. Warmer.
“I’ve never actually, uh…” Mel starts, fidgeting restlessly. She clears her throat, rumbling awkwardly.
Trinity’s eyebrows fly back up to her hairline when Mel doesn’t finish her sentence. She keeps doing that. Mel is kind of embarrassed at just how many times she’s baffled Trinity with just her words. “With… anyone?” she asks, emphasizing her words with one gesticulating hand.
“Nope,” Mel confirms.
“You’ve never…” Trinity pauses and looks over her shoulder, hunching in closer and dropping her words to a hush. “Hooked up? At all? Like… ever?”
Mel shakes her head morosely.
“Holy shit,” Trinity exclaims. When Mel cringes she waves her free hand placatingly to dismiss the effect her words have. “No, no, sorry, it’s not a bad thing, I’m just— how can that possibly be true? You’re a total hottie.”
Mel can’t fight the shy grin that elicits. She ducks her head and fidgets more with the condensation on her glass. “I just, um— I guess I was really focused on school. And then I was Becca’s sole caretaker, so—”
“So not much free time to be young and wild and free,” Trinity supplies. She blows out a stiff breath. “Wow. Sorry, I just— wow.”
“Yeah,” Mel says awkwardly. She brings the straw up to her mouth with a sigh.
“Well, hey, look on the bright side,” Trinity says. “Now that Becca’s busy with Adam, maybe you finally have time to score some dates. Get that V-card punched.”
“That sounds like it would hurt,” Mel frowns.
“No, the V-card isn’t— that’s your— you know what, nevermind,” she huffs. Mel can feel Trinity’s eyes on her in her periphery, looking her up and down, and she self-consciously tucks her hair behind her ear. “So… no boys, huh?” she says thoughtfully.
“Mm-mm,” Mel hums, shaking her head.
“Does that mean… yes girls?” Trinity asks, hesitant and overly careful. Very unlike her usual bravado. The words make the fire in her chest spread out to her arms and hands, the skin pimpling with goosebumps and making her hair stand on end. She feels like she’s on display in the worst possible way. But it’s also kind of… thrilling. She doesn’t get many thrills outside of work these days; everything in her life is so meticulously planned and organized. Perhaps to her detriment.
“Um… yeah,” Mel says, and then frowns. “I mean— maybe. I don’t…” she shakes her head, hugging her arm with her other hand. I don’t know.
Trinity ducks down even closer. Their arms are touching now, pressed up against each other. “Have you ever… kissed a girl?” Trinity playfully asks, still hushed, like they’re the only two people in the room, and Mel’s heart rate kicks into overtime. Tachy, maybe. Temperature probably above normal range.
Mel nods once, hesitantly, barely catching her eye, and then again when she gains more confidence. “Once,” she says, looking away again.
“Well did you… like it?” she asks, gently nudging her with her elbow.
“Uh-huh,” Mel nods, fingers tightening on her arm until the skin goes white. It’s not just her chest that feels warm, anymore; it traverses down to her belly, heaving shallowly where she’s sucking in air.
“Did it make you want to… do more?” Trinity says, prodding her for more info, and her voice is pitched down again, quiet, so quiet, barely a murmur, and Mel suppresses the urge to quiver when the base of her spine goes ticklish. Attraction had always been sort of an abstract concept for Mel; shades of it were still there, certainly, but never a priority. Never something she felt the need to pursue. Not that she even had the time.
“Yes,” she admits, and she closes her eyes and recalls a different memory; late at night, just the two of them studying in the library, the only other soul the tireless librarian downstairs. The way Adrienne had leaned in, and in and in and in, the way Mel’s breath had hitched before their lips touched, chaste but breathtaking. The faint flavor of her beeswax lip balm. She feels the phantom sensation of breath on her face before realizing— it wasn’t phantom at all. It was real, soft and warm and smelling of overly sweet cherries and the sharp sting of alcohol. She cracks one eyelid open to see Trinity’s face planted right next to hers, one knuckle resting gently under Mel’s chin. It’s still cold from the glass.
“Is this okay?” she asks, and she doesn’t move an inch, just waits for Mel’s answer while Mel nervously licks her lips and deliberates. Definitely tachycardic now.
“Yes,” she says again, face flushing violently, and then she slams her eyes shut and holds her body stock-still and lets Trinity slot their lips together, damp and firm and setting her whole body alight.
She sighs, shuddering into the kiss. Trinity pulls away just far enough to bring one hand up, pushing Mel’s hair back, before leaning in again at a new angle. It’s soft and wet and oh-so-painstakingly gentle, almost like being tickled with a feather, the push and pull of their lips and the too-loud smacking noise they make when they separate.
She shivers when they pull apart, eyelashes fluttering open. It feels a bit like butterflies have hatched in her stomach, like they’re trying to crawl their way up out of her throat. Trinity’s cheeks have gone a bit flushed now, her eyes dark and bright, and Mel leans in to clumsily smash their mouths together again, hissing at the uncomfortable bump of their noses jostling together.
“Relax,” Trinity murmurs against her lips, low and amused, and then they’re pressed together again, Mel’s lower lip sucked between two soft lips and making her head go fuzzy.
She stifles a startled moan when she feels the first press of Trinity’s tongue. She knew the mechanics, of course, but it’s still a shock— something warm and wet and slimy inching its way into her mouth. Mel tamps down the funny feeling in her stomach and lets it happen, meeting it with the shy slide of her own tongue, letting herself melt into the sensation despite the tickly mantra of hotweirdwrong.
The warmth in her belly grows hotter, easing down to her hips, her thighs. She squeezes them together and— oh— startles when her clit throbs, once, dully. Mel jerks her head back like she’s been struck.
“Oh—”
“Oh, are you—” they speak at the same time.
“I’m fine,” Mel breathes. “I’m— really fine.”
Trinity bites down on her lower lip, looking uncharacteristically shy. Maybe not shy. Maybe just— flirty. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Mel croaks out. She shifts her legs again and— oh, yeah, okay. She definitely feels warm down there now. “I, um— can we… do that again?”
Trinity smooths Mel’s hair back again, tucking it behind her ear where it’s gone loose. “You want to maybe go somewhere a little more private?”
Mel slams back into her body, hyper-aware of their surroundings now. “Oh,” she squeaks, whipping her head around, taking in all the people around them.
“Nobody’s paying any attention,” Trinity says, and Mel kind of doubts the veracity of that claim, but it’s comforting nonetheless. “We could go back to my place,” she suggests, low and kind of breathy.
“Oh,” Mel says again. “Well, I’ll have to get back to—” she cuts herself off, before remembering where Becca is and shaking her head. “No, actually, I won’t. Um— Whitaker?”
“Is with his farmer widow,” Trinity says. “He probably won’t be back tonight. And if he does come back, he’s very discreet.”
“D-Discreet?”
“He won’t blab,” Trinity assures. “I mean, maybe some snarky ribbing at work, but he does it with love. He’s a total softie.”
“Right,” Mel says weakly. “Then— yes.”
“Yes?” Trinity’s eyes light up.
Mel nods, turning back to the bar and attempting to look cool and composed as she tries to slug back her drink in one go. Her valiant efforts fail, and she splutters up the cherry when it slips past the ice.
“Don’t die on me now,” Trinity laughs, thumping her on the back while the other thumb flies over her screen to order them a ride home.
Mel hadn’t realized how starved she was for touch until she finds herself wedged between Trinity and Trinity’s front door. It was easy to dismiss any lingering wants, but it was always ultimately a want and not a need. It’s not something she needed to survive. And she got physical touch in other ways; a hug from her sister. A high-five from a colleague. A firm shoulder squeeze from Dr. Robby anytime she did something he approved of.
Now that she has it, though— Trinity’s lips pressed against her own, one soft hand cupping her cheek, the other gently playing with the curtain of hair still falling onto her shoulders— she’s overwhelmed by this alien feeling of greed. Compartmentalizing can only go so far, it seems, when you deny yourself for this long, and it manifests itself physically. A rapid, breakneck thumping of her heart in her chest, closely pressed against Trinity’s, like perhaps they were trying to seek each other out.
She hopes their sympathetic nervous systems go beyond just the beating of their hearts. Mel also feels a throbbing, demanding warmth beneath her navel, and the heat only grows worse with every soft moan smothered into her lips. Kissing is wet and sticky and sort of gross, but it also makes her breathing go fast and shaky, and it makes the throbbing between her legs more intense. It’s a little addicting. She squeaks out a shocked little grunt when Trinity’s tongue curls just right over her own, timed with a soft squeeze of her chest over her t-shirt.
Trinity pulls back with a soft laugh, a sticky little web of saliva connecting their lips for another inch or two before it breaks and snaps against Mel’s chin. Her hand moves on autopilot to wipe it away, manners instilled in her on a primal level.
“My bed’s a little messy,” Trinity warns, moving one hand down to palm at Mel’s hip. She drags the fabric of Mel’s t-shirt up just enough to thumb at the skin there, and it makes her feel unbalanced again. “Unless you want to give Whitaker’s bed a ride? Lord knows it could use some action.”
Mel blinks and gapes a bit like a fish, mouth moving around the shape of her words before any sound comes out. “I don’t— uh—” she stutters.
“Oh my god, I’m totally kidding,” Trinity says, pushing away from the door and grabbing Mel’s hand to lead her down the hall. Her room is a bit messy, certainly messier than Mel likes her own bedroom; there’s posters on the wall and dirty clothing scattered on the floor and dresser drawers still open. The comforter lays haphazardly to one side where Trinity clearly threw it off her body this morning, and she moves to toss it to the floor while simultaneously pushing Mel back onto the mattress, splayed out in the middle. She’s got one knee on the bed like she’s about to join her before her eyes light up, head whipping around to look for something on the floor before she finds what she’s seeking: one lone sock.
“Just in case,” she says, as if that provides any explanation, before carefully placing it over the doorknob and shutting the door again. She gives Mel a sultry grin and then kicks off her shoes before unceremoniously dropping her pants as well, and Mel sucks in a breath at the sight of her panties underneath. They’re nothing special, really, a dark maroon-colored cotton. There’s a tiny little bow on them.
Trinity straddles her with ease once she’s freed her legs, tucking her own hair behind her ears with an eager grin, before leaning in to kiss Mel again. They both sigh into the kiss, falling back to lay flat against the pillows, and Mel’s hands hover awkwardly before landing on Trinity’s bare thighs. She feels good, laying on top of Mel like this, covering her with her body like a weighted blanket. It makes Mel feel safe and warm, like she can trust Trinity with this. Trust her with her body and her feelings, so big that they have to escape in shuddering breaths and soft moans and squirming hips.
“You’re really pretty,” Trinity mumbles against her lips, dragging the swollen flesh between her teeth. Mel keens and follows the pull of it, allowing herself to be at Trinity’s mercy. She’s just following her lead. “Can’t believe I’m the first person who gets to see you like this.”
Her clit throbs at that, at the reminder that they’re really doing this, that Trinity is going to touch her and kiss her and make her feel good, and she feels so starved and impatient for it that she lets out an involuntary little whine. Her underwear are definitely wet now. They’ve been wet since the bar, if she’s being honest, and when she squirms she can feel the way they cling to her, wet cotton against sensitive, swollen flesh. It feels like there’s a little ball inside her made out of hot lead, rolling through her guts and making everything hotter and wetter and sending sparks up her spine. She hasn’t even really been touched yet, and she might actually explode the minute she is.
They trade lazy kisses for a while, Trinity’s hips swiveling where she’s still atop of her, putting pressure on her stomach and her pubis and making her whole body feel tight and itchy. Mel’s fingers haven’t moved, still resting on those strong thighs, and she starts kneading the flesh impatiently when Trinity laps at the delicate edge of Mel’s earlobe.
“Mmm,” Trinity hums, pulling away to sit up straight. She tugs her shirt off and throws it somewhere carelessly, and Mel’s eyesight is immediately drawn to her bra. It’s nothing fancy, either, a boring beige that supports her chest— good for work, definitely— but it’s comforting. Like there’s less pressure than whatever Mel had built up in her head. It makes everything more grounded. Trinity tucks her long fingers into Mel’s waistband and gives her a hot look, pink mouth dropping open. “Can I take this off?”
Mel nods eagerly, lifting her hips up to help when Trinity climbs off of her. She’s on display again, but it’s quieter this time; a warm bedside lamp instead of blinding stage lights. Her legs want to close automatically, self-conscious about the stain of moisture and the decidedly unsexy polka dot pattern, but Trinity gently tugs her knees open to let them splay out on the mattress.
“Wow,” she breathes, and then she’s crawling between Mel’s legs and drawing her fingers up sensitive thighs, fingernails gently scraping the skin and leaving behind little pink lines. Mel bites down on her lip and fists the pillow beneath her for dear life. “So wet for me.”
Her clit throbs, and Mel slams her eyes shut and swallows down the mewl itching in her throat. She nods frantically, despite no question being asked.
“You want my fingers?” Trinity asks, and then she drags one thumb up Mel’s center through her panties, rubbing circles over her clit through the fabric.
Mel jolts like she’s been shocked, her knees flailing up and her spine going tight. The pressure feels— heavenly, and Trinity’s barely even touching her, and what little grasp she had on her sanity is quickly fading. “Uh,” she says dumbly, hips rutting up to meet her thumb, face crumpling at the staccato throb of her clit.
“Or I can get my mouth on you,” Trinity suggests, and Mel’s face flushes fever-hot. The heat is suffusing out and making her warm all over, shivering up her spine in hot bursts. Her thighs flex helplessly. “Yeah, I think you want my tongue,” she says before Mel can muster up an answer, self-assured and grinning cockily, and Mel finds herself nodding clumsily again.
Trinity’s fingers hook into her panties before she pauses, another shit-eating grin spreading across her face. She eases herself down the bed and ducks down to be eye-level with Mel’s panties, and then—
“Oh god,” Mel gasps, hips rutting up against the flat of Trinity’s tongue. It’s dull through the fabric but it still makes her see stars beneath her eyelids, muscles twitching as Trinity laps at the wetness with firm, sure strokes.
“Just had to get a little taste first,” she teases, her breaths hot against the skin of Mel’s thighs, and Mel can hear the still-present grin in her voice through the ringing in her ears. “Up,” she encourages, hooking into the waistband again and pulling them down this time.
Mel’s spine stiffens, and she sits up and props herself on her elbows. “I, um— I didn’t shave,” she says curtly, embarrassed at the wild thatch of wet hair between her legs. She didn’t shave those either, for that matter, soft blonde hair all up and down her calves.
Trinity raises one neat eyebrow up at her where she’s still planted between Mel’s thighs. “Okay. And?” she chuckles, spreading her knees to make herself more comfortable. “I’m not exactly clamoring for the bald look. I like hair.”
“Oh,” Mel says, embarrassed now at the assumption. That’s all she’d seen growing up, on TV and in commercials and from her mother— hairless from the neck down. She hasn't bothered as of late since no one ever sees it, anyway.
“I think it’s hot,” Trinity says, lower now, that husky, flirty voice she’d used at the bar. She breathes out a gust of hot air directly over Mel’s cunt, smiling when Mel’s hips jerk up helplessly. “I like when it’s all wet and messy,” she adds, wagging her eyebrows playfully, and then she’s nuzzling at that hair and confidently darting her tongue out to lap at Mel’s cunt.
“Oh,” Mel squeaks out, mouth dropping open. It’s nothing like she’d imagined, just hazy images concocted by her brain of somebody’s head between her legs, soft and fuzzy around the edges. This is hot and intense, the solid pressure of Trinity’s tongue against her, and it twists her guts up like balloon animals. “Oh, god,” she babbles, her hips convulsing as Trinity lathers that tongue against Mel’s wet folds, long laps of her tongue over her swollen clit. She’s trembling now, practically shaking where Trinity is holding her open by the thighs.
“‘S that good?” Trinity pulls back just far enough to ask, nipping at the plush fat of her thighs, ducking back down to press her soft mouth against all that sensitive flesh.
“Y-Yeah,” Mel nods, clumsy and eager, stomach tightening when her hips start undulating in rhythm with Trinity’s tongue. The pleasure washes over her like water, wave after wave of heat between her legs and a buzz up her spine. It all localizes right at the gooey center of her core, that hot ball of lead throbbing with every pass of Trinity’s tongue, obscene slurps echoing her every move.
She feels overheated; it’s been hot all day, humidity making her sweat and re-sweat in the same handful of places: the small of her back, her underarms, the back of her knees. It dampens her t-shirt now, again, for the hundredth time, panting out hot air as she gapes down at the head of brown hair between her thighs, punctuated by two sparkling mischievous eyes. Her cunt flutters when Trinity seals her mouth over her and wags her tongue erratically, wild zig-zags that make her brain melt.
There’s a tug in her guts now, insistent and aching, building with every swipe of wet pressure. It’s an absolute mess down there; tangled pubic hair and wet slick and frothed up spit from Trinity’s tongue. The heat curls in her stomach when a soft moan is pressed right up against her, zinging up her spine and making her thighs tense up, hips squirming and canting up into Trinity’s hands. “D-Doctor Santos, I—” she stutters, convulsing with every smooth lave over her clit, face screwing up in bliss.
“Come on, baby,” Trinity coos softly, almost inaudible over the cacophony of obscene sounds in the room; panting breaths and choked groans and wet tongues against wetter bodies. She seals her mouth over Mel’s clit again and hums, loud and deliberate, lips vibrating over swollen flesh, and that dangling precipice is suddenly and violently within reach as her face crumples.
It climbs and climbs, hot and wet and desperate, and then Trinity reaches up to grope Mel’s chest through her t-shirt and she falls apart— she snaps her hips up and squeezes her eyes shut and comes and comes and comes, surrendering to the animal instinct that lies buried inside of her. Tension snaps like a thin line of rope, and her cunt clamps down brainlessly as she shoves her clit up against the flat landing zone of Trinity’s tongue, her stomach and her thighs flexing and fluttering beneath soothing hands. It feels intense and endless and messy, messier than Mel thought it could be, but maybe she’s coming around on the idea of a little mess being a good thing.
Trinity dutifully licks her through it, still lapping at her cunt until she’s quivering with oversensitivity, jerking away when the nerves edge over into too much territory. Mel gasps at the sight of her face when she pulls up; pupils blown and eyes glassy, lips red and swollen, chin and cheeks smeared with a mess of slick and spit. It sends a stray aftershock through her system. Mel raises one shaky hand up to wipe away a little of the mess, which earns her a tired but sincere grin.
“Feel good?” Trinity asks, slightly breathless and chest heaving, her voice thick where her throat is all wet. Mel’s clit throbs dully, and she nods and shyly pulls Trinity closer by the shoulder, leaning up to peck their mouths together. She tastes sour and kind of pungent, and it makes Mel exhale shakily against her lips.
“What can I do?” Mel asks sincerely, knees tightening around Trinity’s hips.
Trinity hums and ducks her head down, softly biting at Mel’s shoulder through her shirt. “You don’t, um— you don’t have to,” she says, uncharacteristically shy, and when she lifts her head back up she’s smiling again. “You’ve had a big day already,” she jokes.
“I want to,” Mel says, reaching down to smooth one hand over her arm. “Please?”
Trinity bites down on her lip, hips squirming as Mel caresses her skin. “Mel King begging in my bed,” she says sardonically, huffing out a laugh. “Now there’s a bet I would’ve lost.”
“Hm?” Mel hums, tilting her head in confusion.
“Nothing,” she breathes out, amused and shaking her head. “Uh— top drawer there,” she says, jerking her chin to her nightstand. “You can use that on me, I— it won’t take much.”
Mel leans over to riffle through the drawer with piqued interest, pulling out a small egg-shaped device. She’s never seen one that looks like this before, but context clues tell her it’s a vibrator; her suspicions are confirmed when she clicks the little indented groove and it buzzes to life in her palm.
“Had to switch to something quieter,” Trinity explains, moaning softly when Mel presses the vibrating toy to her lower stomach. “Huckleberry kept making jabs about noise complaints.”
Mel slides the toy down further, between Trinity’s legs, pressing it flat against her clit through the fabric of her panties. She clicks it up to a more intense setting and Trinity jumps, moaning again, higher this time, spasming in Mel’s arms where she’s still practically on top of her.
“Yeah, that’s good,” Trinity breathes, squeezing her eyes shut and huffing out hot air all over Mel’s face. Her hips rut down towards the toy, shuddering in Mel’s arms. “Fuck, yeah, that’s so good, just like that, Mel,” she gasps, and then she reaches up to sweep Mel’s hair out of her face and slot their lips together again, curling her tongue all filthy into Mel’s mouth. The kissing makes her own cunt clench down around nothing, empty and aching all over again.
Trinity lets out a pained moan into Mel’s mouth, pulling away to suck in air, eyebrows knitted together tightly on her forehead. Her hips roll down onto the toy where Mel is holding it steady for her, her stomach muscles tightening with every push and pull, and it makes Mel feel dizzy. “God, you’re gonna make me come,” Trinity says, and then barks out a disbelieving laugh. “I,” she starts, cutting herself off with a whine.
“You’ve got this,” Mel encourages, and then Trinity is laughing again, bright and loud, and then she drops her mouth open and comes with a violent spasm that makes her arms quake.
Trinity falls bonelessly on top of her, stretching Mel’s hips out where her legs are still wrapped around Trinity’s body, but it’s a pleasant ache. Mel likes all that body weight on top of her. She struggles for a moment to pull the toy away, still buzzing away in her palm, slick now from the moisture that seeped through Trinity’s panties, and she eyes it with curiosity.
“How much did this cost?” she asks, pressing the groove again to turn it off.
Trinity laughs right into her ear where she’s still flopped on top of her, forehead digging into the pillow as she attempts to catch her breath. “I don’t know. Twenty bucks? I think I got it on sale with a coupon code.”
Mel hums thoughtfully, turning it over in her hand. “Maybe I should get one.”
“You definitely should,” Trinity murmurs, nuzzling at Mel’s ear with the tip of her nose. “I’m of the firm belief that every woman should own a vibrator. That’s just, like, feminism.”
Trinity eases off of her with an exaggerated groan, flopping over to the unoccupied side of the bed. Mel misses the warmth immediately, and she’s also instantly reminded of how naked she is from the waist down, the cool air making her shiver. She prickles and closes her legs, suddenly self-conscious again.
“Well?” Trinity says, flopping her head on the pillow to make eye contact. Mel does the same. “I’m doing a survey. How would you rate that lesbian sex experience on a scale of 1 to 10?”
Mel hums, eyes cutting away to think. “Well, I have nothing to compare the data to,” she says honestly. “But it was… very enjoyable.”
Trinity barks out a laugh, directing it up at the ceiling. She drops the back of her hand to rest over her forehead. “We’ll have to get you a bigger sample size,” she says, stretching out her legs and ankles with all the elegance of a trained dancer. “How’s Friday at 8:00 work? Shall I pencil you in?”
“Oh, really? I’d have to check my calendar,” Mel says, sitting up to look for her discarded pants.
“I’m kidding,” Trinity says, tugging her back down into the bed. “I do that a lot. It’s fine. We’ll work on it.”
“Oh,” Mel says sheepishly. She goes easily when Trinity pulls her even closer, her hand resting on the small of Mel’s back, and Mel hesitates before letting her head fall onto Trinity’s chest. “I would, um. Like that, though.”
“Yeah?” Trinity says, tucking her hand up under the fabric. Mel shivers at the contact. “We can make that happen.”
“Okay,” Mel breathes, nuzzling her head into warm, flushed skin. They lie there for a handful of tranquil moments before Mel clears her throat awkwardly. “Could I borrow a pair of pajama pants? I don’t like being so, um— bare.”
Trinity chuckles again, bright and light and practically sparkling, warm and vibrating where her lips are pressed against the top of Mel’s head.
“You got it, my little Mallard,” she teases.