“Yeah. Yeah, of course.”
“This conversation ends here and now.”
“I agree,” Ellen nods, then chuckles, “Why is this awkward?”
“Because we’re talking about it.” Patty considers suggesting sex, and it sends a burst of a thrill through her, however, it doesn’t seem like the right thing to do now after the discussion they’ve just had and she tries something else, “We could sleep.”
Ellen is a bit disappointed but she feels the fatigue as soon as the suggestion is out in the air and she nods,
As it turns out, they don’t speak more than a few additional sentences before they fall asleep, and hours later, when Ellen wakes up, she finds that while it’s not quite spooning, Patty does manage to snuggle.
Ellen awakens on her side, to the blonde lying on her stomach, face to her and snuggled closely with her arms partially tucked up and under her body so that one of her hands is lazily rested on one of Ellen’s.
It takes Ellen a moment of staring at a rare image of a peaceful and resting Patty before she realizes that sometime during her slumber, her leg has snaked and hooked over the other woman’s. She smiles softly in the dark and resists the urge to place a kiss over Patty’s lips, lingering instead, in the cadence of even breathing.
After a couple of minutes, she lifts the wrist that isn’t trapped underneath Patty’s gentle hold and reads the time. It’s got to be at least twenty minutes before Patty rises for the day, and somehow, starting the day with a wrinkled dress from the night before and what’s bound to be an uncomfortable breakfast neither woman would know what to do with, does not seem like a very appealing situation. So, slowly, she pries her hand away from Patty’s partially curled fingers, lifts her leg off from where it’s comfortably resting and gently, quietly pushes the covers off her body and stands.
She stretches slowly, her spine straightening, vertebrae by vertebrae until she’s upright and stepping into her shoes, her eyes glancing now and then towards the sleeping woman she’s leaving behind. She thinks it’s funny, and a little strange, that this feels a lot like one of their other nights. Like they’ve tortured each other all night and now she’s sneaking off into the night. Except, they never even kissed. They hardly even touched.
Still, she feels as if she were to stay, whatever bit of progress that was accomplished, could be ruined by an uncomfortable morning encounter. And Ellen is still leaning towards too exhausted to fight. So, she makes her way outside, hops into a cab, and arrives home with enough time to shower and drink a cup of coffee.
Mindlessly, she checks her phone once or twice for any sign of Patty. Seven in the morning rolls in and still, there’s nothing. No blinking light introducing a new text message, no soft ding telling her she has a new email, no missed calls. She even goes as far as making sure the sound isn’t turned off before finally giving up, and telling herself to stop acting like a fifteen year old girl who’s just lost her virginity, she returns to the cold morning breeze and begins to walk the familiar paved streets. Five minutes into her walk, her phone vibrates in her pocket and she lifts it to eye level.
The initial surprise at the brief message comes from the fact that she has successfully willed her mind to clear any and all thoughts of Patty Hewes to allow herself an open window to a well operating morning. So, the simple ‘GOOD MORNING. YOU MISSED SCRAMBLED EGGS AND COFFEE. SEE YOU AT THE OFFICE , P.’ literally stops her in her tracks, her limbs reacting like halted mechanics before she allows herself a tiny smile and after her thumbs do a funny dance over her untouched phone keyboard, she opts to not respond and proceeds on her usual morning routine towards the office.
That night, Ellen sits around her apartment until midnight, wide awake and restless, she finally grabs her keys and greets the middle of the night for the second time in a row, on the same route as the night before.
Patty doesn’t greet her at the door this time. Instead, Ellen follows the stairs up to the second floor, down the hall and into Patty’s bedroom, where she’s sitting upright against the headboard, book open on her lap, glasses perfectly in place as she eyes Ellen over the dark frames and smiles, “Hello, Ellen.”
Somehow, it becomes okay for Ellen to simply kick off her shoes, the way she’d done the night before, shrug off her jacket and pants and climb into bed, next to Patty, who resumes her reading in between small talk. Like it’s something they do everyday.
Over the course of the next two weeks, it becomes a well calculated routine.
First, it’s the same as the first night. Ellen worries her hardwood floor into a tizzy, pacing and changing her mind over and over on whether or not to go over to Patty’s before eventually deciding to do so, sneaking in through the awaiting unlocked door and upstairs, where Patty will already be in bed, up with paperwork or a book, or downstairs preparing a night cap for them both.
After a few days, she learns to bring an overnight bag with her. This way, she can get another hour or so of sleep before having to get up, rather than lose that time on a pest of a cab ride back home to do something she’s more than capable of doing at Patty’s. It’s convenient, because patty tends to wake very early and Ellen can sleep while the other woman gets ready to start the day. By the time it’s her turn, Patty’s already dressed and waiting for Ellen downstairs with either cereal and orange juice, or a nice well balanced breakfast. It depends on the mood they’re both in that particular day.
By the end of the first week, Ellen has become overly aware of the fact that the touching has been minimal, and next to non existent, aside from the occasional snuggling--and sometimes spooning--they fall into during the night. It occurs to Ellen, that she has not had sex in quite a while. With patty or otherwise. This, she is not used to. She likes sex. She loves sex. It makes a hard day better when she has it to look forward to and it makes for a great way to start her mornings. So she begins to ponder. And to look.
She looks at Patty a lot. When she arrives at night and the other woman is wearing simple, cotton pajama pants that she pairs with a stretchy cami that tells Ellen instantly that there is no bra underneath it. She looks at her when she climbs into her bed and she’s reading with so much concentration that she hardly notices Ellen’s particular choice of more exotic and more lace based lingerie. She also looks in the morning, when Patty thinks Ellen’s still sleeping and she walks around her bedroom in La Perla underwear, padding around barefoot while she gathers up an outfit for the day. Sometimes, she walks around half naked until the last stitch of make up is carefully applied and it drives Ellen insane that there has not been any inclination towards sex as of yet.
She wonders if maybe the sleepovers are too intimate and if they are, in turn, ruining both their sex lives.
She wonders if they’re making Patty used to having her around as a body pillow and nothing else. This worries and follows her around, nagging for the next week and a half.
Time in which Patty, herself, is wondering why the subtle hints and the additional changes here and there to their nightly routine don’t seem to be making Ellen feel inclined to make a move. She’s beginning to wonder if the talk really was a big mistake and if she’d finally done what she initially set out to do. Ruin this thing with Ellen for good.
She isn’t sure, but she does know she’s sexually frustrated and is willing to only give her a couple more days before she begins to ban her from her bed. Unless it is to render her submissive.
But one day, close enough to Patty’s silent deadline, something happens.
The ring of a phone.
A chirping, to be exact, signaling there is a new text message.
They have been working straight through to midnight and Ellen is tired. Patty’s left the room for a moment and in mid stretch, paired with a wide enough yawn, Ellen hears it. Without bothering to check whose phone she’s picking up and assuming that it is hers that is sounding off, she picks up the Blackberry and reads the incoming message. ’IT WAS GOOD TO SEE YOU, PATS. LET’S DO DRINKS AGAIN SOON, ROBERT.’
She can’t help but make a face, first, at the nickname, then at the unrecognized name. And sure, they agreed on not sharing information of other possible partners, so why she’s suddenly angry is beyond her. She clicks the phone back into a black screen and slams it down on the dining room table just before Patty reenters the room with two empty glasses, a bottle of wine and a smile that‘s meant to seduce, but manages to slip under Ellen‘s radar.
“You know, I think I’m going to go home,” Ellen tells her, before Patty can assess anything else, and stands up, searches a full sixty seconds for her shoes, which were kicked off hours ago, and grabs her purse and jacket.
“Okay,” Patty replies, shrugging off the abrupt departure as Ellen simply wanting to sleep in her own bed, then sits back where she was at the table moments before. Still, she remains disappointed, as every single attempt at hints towards sex seem to be flying over Ellen’s head at a pathetically impressive rate. “Have a good night,” She tells her and smiles softly as the brunette reaches the door, pauses to look over briefly with a smirk, then disappears through the doorway.
Sighing heavily, Patty lifts the half full glass of red wine to her lips before, at a side-glance, spotting the blinking red light of her phone. Swiftly, she reaches for it and reads the same message Ellen had only minutes before leaving. Patty smiles to herself and wonders, if maybe, this was the reason. Somewhat of a thrill jolts through her body, straight through to her core, thinking that she's possibly inspired jealousy within the young attorney. And unintentionally. "Well--", she thinks aloud as she lifts the glass up to her lips again, "--that's a nice surprise."
Ellen can't sleep for the third night in a row. And she hates it, because she knows what the cause of her sleeplessness is. Although, she would never admit. Because it's illogical. She has never and will never be a jealous--girlfriend?
Grunting with exasperation, she kicks the sheets off her body, resting there with a frown on her face as the cool breeze of the window, left ajar, wafts in and over her body, barely covered in a silk mid thigh length, silk nightgown, only when she's laid out like this, with one leg bent at the knee and the other out ward, it rises a little higher.
Last night, she slept momentarily. She dreamt about Patty. She could feel her, warm underneath her, writhing and thrusting in ecstasy. She could feel her breath, hot on her shoulder, could feel the moisture on her fingertips and the teasing tongue against their kiss. She could feel everything. In her dream, she told Patty she loved her, over and over as she fucked her, and Patty simply stared up at her, smiled and said nothing. Ellen repeated her mantra, over and over until it sounded like a demand. A demand for reciprocation. Patty laughed. Ellen awoke in a cold sweat and didn't go back to sleep.
Tonight, she's afraid to close her eyes. She would give anything to never feel that again. The cold, abandoned sensation of being laughed at, of being rejected. By Patty. That's a feeling she can go without the rest of her life if she can help it.
Still, the gleaming blue stare tugs at her sub-conscience. Every time she feels she might be drifting off, she sees her, she hears her, laughing, and she can't do it.
An inward groan escapes her and she pushes her body off the mattress, into a sitting position, where she remains as she examines what she's planning on doing, exactly, up at a quarter until midnight. Her proverbial gut causes a tension in her stomach because it's screaming for her to do what she doesn't really want to do.
Begrudgingly, and after fifteen minutes of arguing with herself, she finds herself in a pair of leggings, the first blouse she can find, and a jacket as she makes herself out the door.
Halfway to her destination, it occurs to Ellen that she should maybe check with Patty and see if it's okay to come over first. It may be a little late, now that she's fifteen minutes away, but this way, if she gets no answer or if she says she's busy, Ellen will have time to double over and run back home with her tail between her scrawny, pathetic legs.
She rolls her eyes as she presses SEND, and waits impatiently for a reply that comes two excruciating minutes later with NO I'M NOT SLEEPING. COME ON OVER.
This should offer some level of relief but it does nothing for the nerves coiling inside her and she anxiously bounces her knee the whole way there.
It's when she find herself outside Patty's door, with her hand on the handle, that Ellen realizes, she has no idea what she's doing here. She stops, breathes in. Out. And finally forces her inner self to shut up. She pushes the door open and is ready to greet Patty, when she hears three things she was not expecting.
Music. Piano, playing softly. Too softly for her to recognize. The second is Patty's distant laughter. The way she's only heard when they're alone. And finally, a man's echoing chuckle.
Ellen's stomach drops to her feet and she has half a mind to turn around and leave before something truly embarrassing happens and she's forced to have drinks with one of Patty's conquests. God, she really doesn't want to see whoever it is in there with her. And she most definitely, does not want to know what has been taking place or what she's interrupted.
"Yeah." Smile plastered on her face, she turns towards her name and dreads who could possibly come walking out after Patty. Patty, who is still dressed in the white pencil skirt and black cashmere top she wore to work that day, but has ditched her shoes in favor of walking barefoot.
Ellen strictly warns herself not to find this remotely sexy and focuses on the woman's face instead, which does nothing to help her case because said woman has been drinking and has a happy, content, smiled on her face, paired with a warm blush over the apples of her cheeks that Ellen finds particularly appealing.
"You got here just in time to meet Robert. He was just heading out--"
"Patty, this place is ridiculously cold--" A tall, handsome, silver haired man says gruffly as he makes his way out of the kitchen and through to the foyer, where he smiles as he continues his assessment, "--like your soul." He’s British. The bastard.
"Robert, this is Ellen. Ellen, this is Robert."
As she shakes the strange man’s hand, she can’t help but notice his tie hanging limply and undone around his neck. The top two buttons of his shirt are undone and he’s holding his jacket in the hand she’s not shaking.
She instantly loathes the man.
“I’ve heard a lot about you,” He says, smiling at Ellen, then smiling at Patty in a way Ellen can’t tell if it’s knowing or simply--inebriated.
“I--wish I could say the same,” Ellen replies, an evil little smirk that only Patty catches.
“Okay, I’ll leave you ladies to your work. Ellen, it was nice to meet you. Pats--” he turns towards the blonde, presses his lips to her cheek a little too long, holds her waist a little too low, and smiles as he adds in an inappropriately low tone, “--it was good seeing you.”
“Bye, Robert”, Patty replies, her eyes on Ellen as the brunette watches Robert show himself out the door. She nearly laughs out loud at the near gag expression Ellen is currently sporting. Instead, she pulls the young woman from her reverie, “Ellen, is everything okay?”
She’s past pretending now. The grimace is to its full effect when she turns towards Patty and points an accusing finger at the man who’s just left the room, “You’ve had sex with him before.”
“Yes,” Patty says plainly.
“He wants to have sex with you now.” Ellen tells her. Her tone is stern and a mixture between warning and accusing.
“Yes. I know.”
Patty says this like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Ellen doesn’t like it. “Are you going to?”
“Ellen--” Patty begins to laugh but is cut off by quickly acting lips, which land on her own with unexpected force. Once the initial surprise has worn off, she sighs and is soon reacting with equal eagerness. She reaches for the other woman’s coat and manages to pull the drawstring apart before her hands are roughly brushed away and soon thereafter, her body is pushed back until she hits the built in book shelf at the far end of the room, grunting as a particularly sharp shelf digs into her back. “Fuck--” She groans, and much to her dismay, Ellen actually pulls away.
“Are you okay?” Ellen asks, out of breath and trying to peer over Patty’s shoulder for any damage.
“No-no I’m fine. I’m fine--” Patty pants, reaching for Ellen’s face with both hands, then bringing her in for kiss that’s slower in build up.
Soon, Ellen’s forgotten that she was worried about Patty’s well being only seconds ago and loses herself in the feel of the blonde responding to her touch. She feels a tug of her bottom lip and she growls, her hips angling forward as she manages to shove her jacket off without ever breaking the kiss.
Ellen isn’t sure where this comes from every time. The selfish need to physically own Patty. She's saying something. She's speaking and she can't hear. She won't. Because this is the only way she will allow Patty Hewes to consume her and she cannot be distracted. Once it's done, she's done. Her adoration of the woman stops with the obsessive worship of her body.
Trailing an eager mouth across Patty's collar bone, she feels a cool hand cradle her neck and hears a whispering, voice, speaking through labored breathing, "--the bedroom. Ellen..."
It feels almost useless to suggest they move, because as much as Patty pleads and asks, Ellen's hold on her only becomes more persistent. She grabs her waist a little tighter, and marks her skin with her mouth. Fingers tug roughly at her shirt, pulling it from the waist of her skirt in one single pull, before moving onto the skirt itself. She struggles with this, pulls and pulls, not being able to find the zipper.
"How do you--get this fucking thing--"
The complete disregard of Patty's requests send warning bells at an alarmingly fast rate and Patty now makes an attempt at grabbing both of Ellen's arms to hold her back, "Ellen--wait--" But she's resistant and she has to push harder, her hands moved onto gripping the young woman's shoulder until she's sure she's got her attention, "Ellen, stop!"
Ellen seems startled. It upsets Patty because she can't make sense of it. The complete absence of the Ellen she thinks she's seeing. She doesn't understand it and can't believe that she has to get to this extreme to be with her. Almost immediately, she averts her eyes and pushes Ellen more firmly, "Stop. Get off."
"Patty--" Is all Ellen manages to question, still lightheaded and confused.
"You know--" Patty turns momentarily just as she reaches the staircase to the second floor, eyes narrowed and cold in a grim and tight lipped smile, "--it is ASTOUNDING, how quickly you manage to go from seducing me to the point of motor dysfunction, to turning me off completely, literally, within a second," She snaps her fingers for emphasis and lightly shakes her head as she begins her walk upstairs. She listens for retrieving footsteps, perhaps a door opening and closing, but aside from the minimal shuffling of feet, nothing of the sort happens. Once in her room, Patty comes to the cold realization that, she has nothing to do in her bedroom other than sleep.
"Shit..." She curses under her breath, stands and looks around the immaculate empty room and sighs, lifting her hand to press it against her temple, applying much needed pressure to the tension building there.
She jumps a little at the even, soft tone of Ellen's voice calling her name from the doorway. She turns in that direction and offers a brief acknowledgement before moving around, towards the other end of the room. Without giving the young woman a chance, she begins her tirade, "Whatever it is you're going to say, Ellen, I don't want to hear it."
Ellen's clueless expression does nothing, except further infuriate the older woman and she continues before the brunette can utter a response, "I don't need your pity fucks, or convenience fucks, or--whatever fucks. I was more than capable of meeting my needs before you, and I will be after you--as a matter of fact, I am now as well."
"You think you're an adult? You're nineteen. You're worse than a nineteen year old. A kid that age only claims to know what they want, but at least they DO what they want. Even if it's stupid. You--you claim to know what you want, but you hide from it. You've got one foot on either side of the doorway. You need to either step inside or get the hell out. You're playing your little games and frankly, I'm sick of it."
"I thought you liked games."
"There's a limit!" She snaps.
The fact that the master of mind games seems somewhat put off by said "games", is somewhat laughable, but Ellen sees it now. Mind games are acceptable to Patty until they cut too deep.
"--you keep saying you can't have all of me...that's an excuse. What's really disgusting is, you're not weak, Ellen. I don't know why you're pretending to be."
"I am not pretending to be anything."
Patty laughs, "Right."
"What if I did want all of you?"
Patty stops, listens and tries to find another meaning to Ellen's words before letting the cloud of initial anger counter her ability and she rolls her eyes instead.
"I'm serious," Ellen insists, "All of you is not just Patty in here, Patty after hours, after the office. Me, Ellen Parsons? Personally, I want part in everything. Patty and Patty Hewes. Are you willing to accept that? Belonging to someone amongst everything you already have? I'm not talking about what you had with Phil. That was a business arrangement--"
"Do NOT talk about my marriage--"
"--I want in, patty--" Ellen continues, refusing to affected by Patty's brute behavior, "--but I need to make sure you're not going to dismiss me whenever you see fit."
Patty will not admit defeat, will not concede to being rendered speechless, but she has no choice now. She doesn't know what to say, but she will not commit to allowing Ellen to be right. Not now, when she is so livid with her. Instead, her jaw sets as she stares, hard, at the other woman before breaking into a stride, right past her and towards the bathroom, where she busies herself with washing her face.
Ellen waits all of two seconds before following suit, stalking her way behind her, eyes narrowed with purpose until she's blocking the doorway, watching Patty taking too much care in personal hygiene, "Patty. Answer me."
"I need you--" Patty begins, in between dabbing her face dry with a towel, "--not to have to be drunk with jealousy to be able to touch me."
Her words are bitter and as Ellen offers a silent apology, she feels a pang of guilt. It feels like the first time she's realizing the tyrant standing before her is in fact, flesh and bone, and is liable to pain. She realizes she's chastised Patty for having a ridiculous and stubborn wall around herself, when Ellen herself has kept herself so far apart from the woman that she can't see when she's being cruel.
Somehow, fresh faced and clear of make up, Patty feels suddenly exposed and she needs to get out of the smaller space. Once again, she’s forced a prisoner in her own home. She pushes past Ellen and back to her bedroom, busying herself with rummaging through her closet for pajamas that take too long to find. When she exits the walk in closet, Ellen is waiting, silent and apologetic. Patty can't help but stare back, immobile.
"I don't want to be pushed away if I reach over and feel like giving you a kiss in the street," Ellen says. She figures it's the most honest thing she's said in the last month or so. It’s both cathartic and unusual. She finds Patty's reaction frozen in place. "I refuse to be your dirty little secret. This is me giving you what you want in exchange for what I need."
"I'm not one for public displays of affection." Patty says firmly.
"I am," the young woman replies with equal force, "I can't deal with hot and cold. This is what I want. You asked me if I still wanted a family--too much has changed me for me to know now and if that's turned me into an indecisive nineteen year old, then so be it. But I need assurance from you. I am putting everything I have on this, but I can't just hand it over to you if you're not going to take this--relationship seriously outside of these walls."
It takes a few deep breaths for Patty to find a response inside herself, and when she speaks, her voice is softer than she likes, "I don't trust you not to leave."
There is no levity in the statement. It's heavy and full of anguish built over the years between them and every single time they've fucked each other over. They're both to blame and that's the worst part. That they're here now, with no trust, and at the same time, no one else to trust but each other.
Ellen steps forward and Patty's breath hitches quietly. The space in between heartbeats reduces instantly and she clutches the cotton pajamas in her hands as the brunette reaches her and stands as close as they were moments earlier, downstairs.
Ellen's gaze drops onto Patty's tight grasp on the soft material and she reaches out as she replies quietly, "I don't want to go anywhere." Gently, she pries her fingers from the garments, takes them from her, and disposes of them, dropping them on the bed.
To Patty's surprise, Ellen toes off her shoes, bringing her down to two inches closer to her height. It's easier to meet her eyes this way, which makes it all the more difficult when the younger woman begins with the top button of the blonde's shirt, and so on and so forth. With the fourth button, Ellen's knuckle brushes Patty's chest--the sensitive space between her breasts, just above the front clasp of her bra.
Patty holds back a gasp, concentrating instead on the penetrating look in the pools of brown staring back in silence. The younger woman disposes of her own blouse after taking care of Patty’s, until they’re left partially bare to one another.
After a moment, Ellen leans forward and presses her lips softly to Patty’s shoulder. It’s a gentle, close lipped pressure against milky white, gardenia scented skin. Unknowingly, both women simultaneously close their eyes. Patty lingers on the sensation of the goose-bump inducing soft caress of plump lips, while Ellen soaks in the feel of taking this woman in slowly. She figures not a lot of people have had the privilege to do so.
Her hands skim over the older woman’s shoulders, fingers dancing gently down well worked out arms and back up to cover her shoulders with her palms curled over them. Just for a moment, she stills her touch, allowing her mouth to swiftly drop another soft kiss against the woman’s collar bone, drawing out an equally gentle sigh before her fingers curl over and under the straps of the black lace bra Patty wears. Slowly, she drags them off her shoulders, her mouth moving up to kiss just bellow Patty’s jaw line. Ellen can almost hear both their heart beats sync and when she finally encloses her hands over the older woman’s breasts, her own breath becomes bated as she nuzzles her nose to the blonde’s, their lips just barely grazing.
Patty’s hands find a resting place atop Ellen’s waist. She figures, she needs an anchor of some sort now, feeling as if she’s going to fall any second. Ellen’s hands are much gentler now. More forgiving and almost painfully tender as they mold her breasts, offering a pleasurable build of tension. Thumbs graze her taut nipples and in turn, Patty’s grip tightens against Ellen’s hips. A sound resembling a grunt escapes her and she sighs once more before taking the initiative and ridding of the only garment keeping her from Ellen’s breasts, tossing the thinly fabric aside.
Hands peel off the remaining articles of clothing. It’s easy and undiluted. There are no words. There is no resolution. As Patty leaves a trail of open mouth kisses down Ellen’s spine, and the younger woman writhes beneath her, she wonders if there will ever be a time when there will be. When they will stop doing this thing they do--talk forever about everything and nothing at the same time, leaving their situation in the same abysmal place as before they started.
She wonders how she let herself be dragged here again. She contemplates stopping everything and telling Ellen to leave for good. But when the brunette turns over under her and looks at her--her lips are parted in gentle, quick breaths, her eyes are dark and her skin is young and bare for Patty to take. Taut, pink nipples wait, and just like that, Patty forgets again. She forgets everything. She lowers herself onto the warm body against the plush covers, swiftly wrapping her lips around one erect nub, while her hand finds the other and molds and pinches gently, quickly drawing a string of whimpering moans from Ellen, who rakes her nails over Patty’s lower back, softly, making her body react involuntarily, thrusting her hips slowly between Ellen’s legs. She spreads them wider and shifts, bringing one hand up brace the back of Patty’s head as she works her breasts, sucking and licking, slowly driving the young attorney insane.
It’s always amazed Ellen what Patty can do to her with just the flick of her tongue. She wonders if it really is just the physical aspect, or everything else she tries to stay away from that makes her react so easily to the woman’s touch. She can’t rationalize it, try as she might.
A gentle lick and a kiss on the side of her breast and shifting of hips makes Ellen smile. Instantly, she cradles Patty’s face in her hands and brings her lips against her own. She kisses her thoroughly, slowly, nipping at the woman’s bottom lip, effectively gliding the tip of her tongue against the blonde’s, taking her time tasting red wine and herself there. Shifting her hips just so again, a soft thigh is pressed against her center and she shivers at the sensation, releasing a drawn out moan against Patty’s lips.
Patty’s hips move slowly, the occasional sharp thrust making Ellen’s brow furrow with every wave of pleasure. She holds Patty’s face close, their foreheads pressed together, their lips meeting in desperate kisses whenever Ellen needs them.
Patty can feel her thigh grow slick with Ellen’s arousal and all this does is multiply her own desire. The overwhelming urge to get Ellen off overpowers her own needs however, and she continues her silent torture, half rested on her bent arms, astride Ellen, half resting atop the woman’s body as she refuses to let go of her until Patty’s pace quickens and Ellen cries out, burying her face in the crook of her neck and hooking one leg over her hip, a sobbing moan and a quivering orgasm following soon after. They remain still for so long, that When Ellen’s lips begin to gently dance over the side of Patty’s neck and shoulder, she almost doesn’t feel it.
It takes Ellen’s hands skimming over her hips and back for Patty to fully react. Slowly, Ellen finds her lips again. Swiftly, without a word uttered and only gently caresses to guide her way, Patty finds herself sitting astride Ellen, arms wrapped around the younger woman’s neck, lips and breasts pressed against her, and thrusting against two able fingers, seethed deeply inside her. They turn upward and down, rubbing at a particular spot that always seems to make Patty’s entire body shiver and it’s no different now. She gasps against Ellen’s cheek, her hips stilling as much as possible as the younger woman adds a third finger and, keeping a slow but firm pace, drives into her like she’s got only one purpose in life that’s to get Patty off.
This continues for a few minutes until it stops and Patty follows, moving at her own accord, riding Ellen’s hand harder, her hips pumping along with her speedy heart rate until she’s clinging to Ellen with both hands, her fingertips digging into her skin, panting and finally throwing her head back and moaning up at the ceiling as her own release over takes her and she’s vaguely aware of Ellen’s mouth, hot on the arc of her neck, sucking and kissing there until Patty’s left, hanging limply in arms that embrace her and keep her tightly close to another heated body.
They don’t snuggle or even touch in their sleep, but when Ellen wakes up, she looks to her left is left with the overwhelming fear that she wants to be closer. The feeling makes her want to run as fast as she can out of Patty’s apartment. But she stays and stares up at the ceiling instead and fights it, forces herself to simply--be. Slowly, she shifts onto her side, but doesn’t dare to touch Patty’s hair, which is what she really wants to do. Instead, she scoots in closely. As closely as she can without actually touching the sleeping woman facing away from her and hopes that when she wakes up in the morning, she and Patty can take a step forward to getting over their bullshit.