signed_sabrina | (no subject)

She keeps Sabrina's coat on the entire way back to Candlewood, letting it wrap around her shoulders and keep her...held, maybe. Soothed and safe, in a way she hadn't known she needed. Once they're home, the apartment quiet--Neil still out with Caleb, she thinks, and likely to stay gone the rest of the night--she gives Sabrina another shy, warm smile, watching her take off her boots.

"It's as though it happened all at once," she says, taking off the coat and getting a hanger from the hall closet. "Like a switch got flipped." She kicks off her heels, then steps forward to take Sabrina's hand again. Her own aren't much warmer, but she holds on tight, that shy smile still lingering on her face.

"I could make..." she starts to say, then laughs a little. How, after all this time, does this feel so new? Her fingers lace a little more tightly with Sabrina's, and she nods towards the living room. "Bit silly for us to keep standing in the middle of the hallway."

Their fingers, still a bit pale and chilled with cold, tangle together, and somehow it's the electric spark that sends warmth through Sabrina, the feeling only amplified when Rosie is clearly feeling some of the same things. Sabrina remains determined to wait, to see this through properly, but she's suddenly aware that they've held out for months. Where that might have given her pause, the ever present worry that she'd pushed Rosie into something she was uncomfortable with before-- they've devoted time and energy and intention to this.

Like magic.

She presses her own fingers back against Rosie's, and nods. "Right," she agrees, and she tugs again, gently, heading to the living room, to the comfort of the couch. "Sometimes it just feels... new."

Sabrina speaks in concert with her thoughts as they cross from the hallway to the living room, an acknowledgement that eases the strange--but not unpleasant--flutter of nerves inside her. It was new, as new as their hesitant first date to the boardwalk, as new as all the times they've kissed since then, light and delicate and waiting for something more. Rosie thinks, perhaps, that something more has just arrived.

They sit on the couch, Rosie turning to pull the blanket from the back and shake it out, draping it over both their laps. "I don't mind it," she says, aware of the hush in her voice and the way she tilts toward Sabrina like a flower seeking the sun. "That it's new now. It feels like it ought to be, if we're making it ours."

This could easily be enough, curling up with Rosie in the way she's been aching to, for so long. She shifts so that she can rub their slowly warming fingers together. It's quiet in the apartment, and it's easy to feel like they're in a bubble, where the work they've put in means they get this easiness, this anticipation.

"You're right," Sabrina answers, pulling their entwined hands up to her mouth, where she breathes to keep warming their fingers. And maybe, just maybe, to let her mouth graze the back of Rosie's hand and knuckles as she speaks. "I don't-- before, it was good, it was really good. But this time, we chose this. We know that we're here for each other. We know where we stand, and--" Her cheeks are a little pink. "It's going to be even better."

Her breath catches at the brush of Sabrina's lips, heat flushing her face and staining her cheeks just as pink, she thinks, as the rosy blush on Sabrina's face. The slow, building thing that's started between them, carried along as they went from the bench outside the club to right here, now, on the couch, deepens even further. Rosie welcomes it, more readily than she might have thought only a few hours before.

"It was wonderful before," she says. "Sometimes, wonderful because of...of things I didn't know could be so wonderful." She ducks her head and laughs, the fingers of her free hand tracing the curve of Sabrina's knee through the soft wool of the blanket. "You know what I mean."

When she looks up again, the flush is still on her face, her eyes bright and sparkling when they meet with Sabrina's. "I think you're right," she says. "It'll be better, and I want it. All of it."

Heat floods through Sabrina, enough that she can hardly believe she was cold only moments ago. She knows there's no hiding it, either, the way the color blooms at the base of her throat, the darkening of her eyes. Absolutely, she knows what Rosie means.

"Some of it was new to me, too," she says, just barely biting off a fairly explicit example of it. The touch against her knee sends a shiver through her, and she reminds herself to behave, to let Rosie leads as much as she wants to.

But she's sure she's not hiding how much she wants.

When Rosie says she wants it, all of it, a tiny keening sound escapes Sabrina, pleading and needy. She doesn't trust her voice.

That little sound shoots right through her, only enhancing the tightly-wound tension that's formed between them. Rosie knows it's hers to break, hers to choose whatever path she wants to go down from here, and the power of it is the headiest thing she's felt in a long time. She keeps looking into Sabrina's eyes, seeing the heat and the wanting and the hope there, and she decides.

The gentlest tug at their joined hands is all the momentum it takes. She pulls Sabrina forward, putting her lips to hers in a deep, almost needy kiss.

Rosie's rewarded with another little sound, and another, relief and hunger and heat, soft noises melting against Rosie's mouth, against the brush of her tongue. After squeezing their fingers together once more, Sabrina lets go just long enough to get her arms around Rosie, bringing them together nearly head to toe.

It's so good, and after all of the sorrow and struggle, such a bright and consuming light that she just wants to be consumed.

They've kissed before, they've even made out since it all came down, but it hasn't been with this sense of something more. Sabrina licks her way into Rosie's mouth, still letting Rosie control this, but giving back everything she's offered.

They press almost flush against one another, Sabrina's arms around Rosie and Rosie's hands splayed at Sabrina's back, keeping her there, keeping her close. She pours all her longing into each kiss and gets the same back in return, in each hot sweep of Sabrina's tongue and the small, wanting noises they both make.

She didn't know how she needed this until it was here, until it was now.

"Rosie," she whispers, her voice as reverent in its softness as it is needy in its breathlessness. She presses her mouth to Rosie's up lip, then sweeps her tongue along her bottom lip. The room's so quiet, save their breathing, the bits of moans and whines that come from finally getting here.

"Rosie," she whispers again, and sinks back on the couch, pulling Rosie atop her, very clearly signaling that she has every intent of otherwise continuing to let Rosie guide them. She just finds she needs. the reassurance of Rosie's weight right there.

She's thought about it a lot, what it would be like to completely surrender herself.

Edited 2020-12-04 04:21 (UTC)

"Yes," she says every time Sabrina whispers her name like that, so full of desire and amazement that they've gotten here at last. When she pulls her down, Rosie follows, the blanket sliding to one side as she moves above Sabrina, her hands skimming the curve of her hips and the lean length of her side. They kiss each other like they're starving--and maybe they were, after so many months of being so careful.

Rosie believes she's reading the signals right in the way Sabrina gives in, gives herself over to her. It's a permission she's not going to squander. "I've been thinking about this," she admits, the words murmured against Sabrina's skin as she mouths along her jaw, nips at her earlobe, runs a trail of kisses down her neck. "More and more, as we started figuring everything out."

"Oh," Sabrina gasps, and then, feeling a hot pulse between her thighs, she bares her throat, fierce in the offer of vulnerability. Her mind, however, remains caught on the words of a moment ago. "Oh, that's-- that's one of the hottest things I've ever heard," she murmurs, splaying herself out, offering more, offering everything.

Her own hands come up to Rosie's ribcage, fingers spanning wide, feeling the expansion that comes with each breath, and she wiggles to center Rosie against her. Their legs tangle, Sabrina arching up a bit for contact, chasing Rosie's mouth even as she wants to know, "What have you been thinking about specifically?"

Unbidden, she makes a small, needy sound when Sabrina moves beneath her, surrenders just that little bit more with her head back and her legs splayed such that Rosie's thigh slots perfectly between them. Her fingertips are warm against the thin fabric of Rosie's dress, and she feels each touch like another spark of fire beneath her skin.

"Specifics?" she asks, her voice just on the edge of husky. Rather than answer right away, she takes a little more advantage, kissing a mark against the pale skin of Sabrina's throat as she slips one hand beneath her sweater. "This, sometimes," she says at last. "Making out with you. Touching you just like this."

Her fingers track up the soft skin of Sabrina's belly, along the faint ridges of her ribs until her fingertips just graze the softer curve of one breast. "Letting us both get a little more out of control."

For as in charge as Sabrina can be in a moment like this, trading hot kisses and getting her hands, her mouth, all over the ones she loves so well, she's never had a problem with giving in, surrendering, and maybe it's not the time to tell Rosie she can have anything, that Sabrina wants her to take whatever she wants.

She has little doubt it's not going to trickle through the gasps and moans, her body already starting to welcome Rosie back.

"Yeah," she breathes, "leave a mark there, please, please." That hand, so much warmer now, seeking her skin, nudging at the underside of her breast, steals her whole attention next, her nipples tightening and budding even through the sweater, her bra.

Under their old dynamic, it might have sounded like an order, something Sabrina could say and expect to have it followed. Because her Rosie was good, and liked being good; was nervous and hesitant and liked the security of giving in to the two people who knew and had done more than she ever would.

It isn't like that now, and when Sabrina breathes out that direction it sounds for all the world like something vulnerable and needy and sweet. It sounds like begging, and that realization sends another hot, deep pulse rolling between Rosie's thighs. "I thought about that too," she says, the words a murmur before she nips at her again, a scrape of her teeth along another bit of perfect, clear skin. "Whether it was you doing it, or me. Both of us, leaving behind reminders that we choose to be each other's."

Sabrina arches with the light touch of her hand and Rosie takes it for the invitation that it is, her fingers finding the hard peak of her nipple, toying with it through the lace of her bra as she swallows up more of those beautiful, desperate sounds in another hungry kiss.

For a moment, Sabrina can barely breathe, letting a tiny and incoherent little sound escape her at the sensation of Rosie's teeth combined with those words, with the hand on her breast. She understands, as she grinds her hips up against Rosie's thigh, that she's not only been waiting for this in a physical sense, but that she's been waiting for Rosie to understand.

She's been waiting for Rosie to understand that Sabrina's always been hers, long before Sabrina's lips had found her skin that first time.

As the kiss breaks so they can gasp for breath again, she whispers, "I am, I'm choosing to be yours, all you have to do is take me." She noses her way under Rosie's jaw to get her open mouth on the sweet skin there, a place that absolutely haunts her.

"Sabrina," she says, her name a soft, gasping sound in the wake of that heated acquiescence. She shifts her leg to press more firmly at the juncture of Sabrina's thighs, giving her more pressure, more to grind and buck against, starting a slow, rolling movement of her own hips to add another layer of sensation. One thin strap of her dress has fallen down, baring the pale curve of her shoulder, but she barely notices. Even less so, once Sabrina's mouth finds its way to the underside of her jaw.

"I will," she says, urging Sabrina's sweater up and off. They shouldn't stay out here on the couch much longer--Neil's not likely to come home, but Rosie couldn't stand the embarrassment if he did--but the thought of moving seems impossible right now. "Because you're mine to have, as much as I'm yours."

Sabrina smiles against the hollow of Rosie's throat, just because she's missed that sort of gasping version of her name. The mark she works there is delicately done, at least with her teeth, more about the laving of her tongue and the suction of her mouth.

She trembles at the promise that Rosie will take her, will draw her in and hold her and open her up, lay claim to what Sabrina has tried so hard to offer up, again and again until it's right.

This feels right, though, as she helps Rosie strip off her sweater, leaving her in a lacy bra the color of wine, deep and dark against her pale skin. She's rolling her hips against Rosie's thigh, wishing she had a skirt instead of her jeans. "However you want me," she promises, no challenge or tease there, just truth.

They could do just this forever, moving and panting and kissing each other breathless, letting each touch of their fingers feel like some new experience. Rosie would be happy to melt into all of it--but the drive for more is a difficult thing to deny. Sabrina's sweater comes off, her bra dark and lovely against her pale skin, and Rosie pulls back just enough to look at her splayed out against the couch cushions.

"I love you so much," she sighs, reaching back to tug at the zipper of her dress, wanting it off, wanting to be bared and stripped for her.

Sabrina's pulse flutters wildly at the words, here in this context.

She knows that no matter what else, they do love each other, that it's the sort of love that could be what they temper it into. If they hadn't both wanted this, then Sabrina knows they would have been able to return to the love of friends.

They do want this, though. She can feel it singing in her blood, and she catches Rosie's mouth for another needy kiss first. "I love you too," she tells her, "so much." And then, very helpfully, reaches around and takes care of the zipper, as she has better access.

Rosie whimpers a little into Sabrina's mouth as they kiss, a small, relieved sound that she'd said it back--not that it was ever in doubt, not really, but the journey's been so long for them both. It's not over yet, neither of them are naive enough to think that, but they're closer now than they've ever been.

The zipper goes down, the dress gapping open enough that Rosie can pull it off, leaving her in little more than a strapless bra and panties. Her hair mussed, curls framing her face, she kisses her way from Sabrina's mouth down to the line of her neck, then along her collarbone. All the while, her fingers fumble with the button on her jeans, then the zipper of her fly. It's frantic and forward, the thrill of taking control still new to her and still completely enthralling.

Drinking down that little whimper, Sabrina can't help herself, whispering as they get the dress off of Rosie, "I do, I love you, I love you." She manages to smear a kiss across Rosie's lips before she feels that warm, sweet mouth on her throat.

Much as she wants to get her own hands all over Rosie, learn the feel of her skin again, where she's soft and where she's taut, where she's warmest-- Rosie's working on the button of her jeans. Sabrina shifts to help her, until the jeans are peeled down and kicked off her ankles, leaving her in matching lacy panties. There are few things Sabrina follows as religiously as matching her lingerie.

She lets her thighs splay just so, welcoming, begging Rosie back to her place between them.

It's beautiful, seeing her like that; dark lace and flushed skin, spread thighs and the taut arch of her back. Rosie drinks in the sight of it, her fingers skating up the inside of Sabrina's thigh, watching the touch--the need, something only Rosie's firing within her right now, and what a revelation that is--register on her face.

"I don't know if either of us can move right now, really," she says, the corner of her mouth going up in amusement. "But I don't want you here. I want you in my bed."

Nick might have said it better, and had before. He'd been strong, and commanding, and all the things Rosie wasn't sure she could be even if she tried, but maybe that didn't matter. She takes a breath, her fingers moving against the lace of Sabrina's panties, slow circles pressing in just slightly where she's already soaked. "Tell me you haven't forgotten where my bedroom is, even after all this time."

The time, of course, that they had spent abstaining from this, that has something to do with how easily and delightedly Sabrina's nerves sing with sensation at Rosie's touches-- but just as much of it has always been here. And in return, perhaps there's some revelation for Sabrina too, that it would please Rosie so much to be the one setting the tempo of the blood pounding in her veins.

Either way, she's utterly quiet, lips parted, skin flushed as she listens. Her eyes grow brighter with each word, and she sucks in a breath as Rosie finally strokes her fingers against the sodden bit of lace between her thighs. She can't help the way her hips automatically push into the touch, but the prospect of getting into bed is strong enough to keep her from just staying there, rocking against Rosie's hand.

"Uh-huh," she breathe, and manages through some infernal act to get up, taking Rosie's hands to draw her with her. Getting to the bedroom might be a little messy and clumsy, with Sabrina not ready to just let go and walk, but they do manage to end up on the bed in a tangle of limbs.

"Good," she says to that breathy answer, given as Sabrina's hips roll into the press of her fingers. She wants to tuck that lace aside, or tug her panties down entirely, sink her fingers into the slick, wet heat of her--but there'll be time for all of that later. Again and again, even. Rosie does reward her with a firmer, quicker touch, just for a moment before she takes her hand away. "I thought as much."

Somehow they get up from the couch, the mechanics of it lost in a haze of desire. But they're up, stumbling hand in hand and pressed as close as they can get as they make it out of the living room and into the hall, down and down until Rosie's hand smacks against her bedroom door and pushes it open. She nearly trips over her bookbag, tossed onto the floor in haste just that afternoon, and laughs against Sabrina's mouth as she flails a bit for balance.

It's a handful of steps to the bed after that, Rosie pulling Sabrina down, breathing out another laugh as she feels her doing the exact same thing. "We haven't worked this bit out yet, have we?" she teases, low in Sabrina's ear as she finds the clasp of her bra, just two slim hooks holding it closed. Undoing it isn't as smooth or effortless as she'd have liked, but she feels it give way beneath her fingertips after only a moment.

A somewhat delirious, if utterly delighted, part of Sabrina has a moment of wondering when Rosie learned to just utterly decimate her like this.

She knows, though, that this was there all along, waiting for them to bring it out into the sunlight and let it grow. And then Sabrina comes back to herself and Rosie's helping get her bra off, thank goodness. "We'll figure it out," she murmurs, wriggling to get out of the straps, distracted by the mark she's left on Rosie's neck, a spot that receives an almost chaste kiss.

So she's a bit of a possessive monster with the ones she loves-- not all things change.

Cool air hits the tender skin of her breasts and she gasps, making sure that as she's bared to Rosie, she's baring herself, offering more and more up, this is yours to take.

Rosie loves that gasp, the shuddering sound of it and the way Sabrina's chest heaves with the action. It's another perfect thing that's completely hers, brought on by no one else. She makes a soft noise of her own when Sabrina kisses the mark at her neck, but then she's moving, dipping her head down to graze her mouth over the curve of one breast.

"Thought about this too," she says, picking up the thread from before, willing to keep telling Sabrina everything, willing to take all the other girl gives up in exchange. Her tongue darts out, laving over the flushed peak of Sabrina's nipple before her mouth closes over it, sucking firmly. The taste of her skin is something she'd almost forgotten, until now.

"Rosie," and it's loud enough that hopefully the apartment stays empty for a lot longer, because Sabrina doesn't think she's going to be quiet about any of this. She knows that she'd missed kissing Rosie this deeply, this intently, and she knows she's missed the soft, velvet heat of her mouth, her tongue. But now there's almost a retroactive ache.

"What else," she breathes, pushing her fingers into Rosie's hair, pleading and possessive and stupidly grateful. "Whatever you want, it's yours, I swear."

Angling herself just so, she rolls her hips, seeking the friction of Rosie's thigh against the sodden cloth of her panties.

Rosie lets out a soft, sobbing whine when Sabrina's hand comes to rest on her head, the slight pull and twist of fingers in her hair another thing she'd missed more than she knew. Sabrina starts to move against her, underneath her, and Rosie's hips roll in counterpoint.

"Everything," she says, smudging more kisses against her skin, a trail from one breast to the other, the fingers of one hand plucking at the nipple currently neglected by her mouth. "The way you kiss me. My fingers inside you. Falling apart against your tongue." Slowly, she starts to pull Sabrina's panties down, letting the lace tangle around her thighs before she draws it off entirely. "That time you used the toy you'd bought and had me deeper and harder than you'd ever done before."

Rosie moves down the bare length of her body, between her still-spread thighs. She looks up at Sabrina, pressing a kiss to her hip, then down, down, down--before she stops, another sweet and terrible torture.

"Most of all, hearing you say please."

"Holy fuck," Sabrina gasps, absolutely reverent in her breathlessness. "Rose, fuck, do you have any idea--" She tightens her fingers in Rosie's hair, helping ease her panties off, the scent of her arousal heavy in the air. Her nerves spark hot and electric, nipples pink and straining under fingers, tongue, the muscles in her stomach flickering and jumping.

She's already a mess, flushed and a bit sweaty, her eyes huge and dark.

Licking her lips, she says, as sweetly and clearly as she can, "I think about it too. I want it. Please. Kiss me, touch me, please. God, I think about it too. I think about-- oh, I want you to use it on me too, to fuck me, please." Her thighs splay open, shameless in her wanting. "I want your mouth, please, but I want you to know how absolutely you can take me apart, leave me wrecked, please and I'll keep saying it."

This is what she'd been hoping to feel, waiting to claim for herself after getting so lost on the other side of it, through no one and everyone's fault at the same time. Sabrina pleads and gasps and swears, weak and shaking with need, and it's Rosie who holds all the control; she can give or take, reward or withhold, make it fast and frantic or slow and decadent, whatever she most feels like choosing. It's all possible now.

"You can have it," she promises, her mouth a mere breath away from the flushed, slick line of her. "I want it too. All of it. My mouth tonight, my fingers, and then...and then the toy sometime later. Soon."

There's not much more to say after that. Spreading her a little, opening her up, Rosie bends her head and puts her mouth against her, tongue rolling against Sabrina's clit.

That this would have been Rosie's for the asking at any time is beside the point. Rosie coming to this own her own, or as part of what they've worked so very hard to create together, that's what makes it sweet. Letting herself fall to pieces is something Sabrina enjoys very much, most often at Charlie's hands, and she realizes in this moment that she'd always wanted it from Rosie too.

Perhaps that's another part of what's changed, that Sabrina's finally feeling able to step out of the role they'd all found for her too, one she's held for fear of losing out.

But she doesn't fear losing anything now, not when Rosie's beloved, clever mouth finally sets against the near-throb in the same little bundle of nerves under Rosie's tongue. She couldn't identify the sound that escapes her if she tried, only knowing it to be loud in the hush of Rosie's bedroom. "Please," she says, almost vulnerable, fingers tangled in Rosie's curling hair.

She loves hearing her, having the taste of her fill her mouth and flood her senses, feeling her fingers tighten in her hair. It all tells her she's doing this right, giving Sabrina all the things she's missed--that they've both missed, and wanted, and waited to have again.

Sabrina pulls at her curls and Rosie moans against her, her mouth and tongue busy licking and sucking like it's the only thing she wants to do. Sabrina's thighs shake with beautiful, building tremors, signs she's getting closer and closer to the edge, and as they reach their peak Rosie shifts just enough to slide two fingers into her, fucking her in time with the movement of her tongue on her clit.

"I want to feel you, Sabrina," she pants, a momentary pause. "Just like this, I know you can do it."

Sabrina's not going to last long at all, not with the months of going without, not with the amazingly hot way Rosie handles her. How had she managed to forget the exact texture of the flat of Rosie's tongue, or the way her fingers press and curl inside her. Tiny, breathy cries fill the room, Sabrina's hips hitching up and up, into the onslaught of Rosie's attention.

She might shake apart, she thinks, and what a way to go.

And then Rosie tells her what she wants, and it's so easy, so right. With a desperate sob, Sabrina comes, the slick clench of her cunt grabbing at Rosie's fingers, her clit throbbing in time. It feels like she hangs there forever, and then she's dazedly clutching for Rosie, to pull her up and lick the taste of herself from Rosie's mouth.

Rosie lets her ride right there against her tongue, the pulse of her cunt around her fingers making something clench deep and desirous between her own thighs. She works her through it until she's limp and gasping, so perfectly spread against the sheets of her bed it's like she never left.

When Sabrina pulls her up, she goes, another quiet, happy sound swallowed up when Sabrina's mouth meets hers. She pushes one hand into Sabrina's hair, holding her in the kiss because she can, even though neither of them have any wish to pull away.

Sabrina curls up against her, flushed and damp skin be damned, happy and utterly besotted, giving Rosie's lower lip a fervid suck as fingers wind into her hair. She doesn't think she could do much else at the moment if she tried, though her fingers skim up the plane of Rosie's midriff.

Not many things feel as if they fit these days, but she can feel the rightness of this, like turning a key in a lock to hear the click.

"I'm in love with you, you know," she whispers, pulling back just enough to look at Rosie's sweet, swollen mouth, for Rosie to see her wrecked and glimmering with happiness.

She wants, of course, arching a little when Sabrina's hand moves over her skin, aware of every minute inch of contact. She's still in her underthings--hadn't even been thinking about it until now, focused as she was on Sabrina--and for a minute she feels almost hilariously overdressed in contrast. But this is perfect, too, slowly touching, both of them twined with each other and kissing as if they'll never need air again.

"Oh, Sabrina," she says, softly stunned by the verbalization of something she'd known, and forgotten, and needed to learn again. She brushes a pale tangle of hair off of Sabrina's face, the better to see her more clearly, all the adoration pooled in the dark depths of her eyes. She kisses her again.

"Sometimes I didn't think I could find my way back to this," she says, careful with her words but needing to be honest. After so many nights of deception, of hiding herself because it silenced the doubts in her head, she needs in this moment to choose honesty. "That we could. But I loved you, always, and I wanted to. No matter how long it took."

"I worried too," Sabrina answers, her voice quiet, unused to admitting doubt. "About a lot of things. Some of them that were real and some of them the kinds of things I let myself get distracted by." She allows herself to press soft, open-mouthed kisses to the hollow of Rosie's throat, to her collarbone, to her shoulder. "I think it's important for me to tell you both things, because I don't think I said it clear before. I love you, and I'm in love with you."

Her hand skims up Rosie's ribcage, and back, going for the clasp of her bra.

"I'd like to undress you," she breathes, "And then I'd like you to tell me how you want me to make you come. Not-- like a game, but because I want to know."

No matter how distracting Sabrina's kisses are, or how much she wants to sink into them, Rosie knows listening to what's being said is important. It's too easy for both of them to get entrenched in their own heads, their own thoughts, and forget to hear what the other one is saying. Even when, like now, it's something more full of love than anything she could have imagined.

"I love you too," she says, moving to let Sabrina at her bra clasp. Feeling it loosen, she smiles, and lets the other girl pull it off the rest of the way. "And I'm in love with you, and I want you to know." She presses close again, shivering delightedly at the brush of newly bared skin against her sheets, and kisses her. "You can keep undressing me, and once you're done, I want...I want your fingers. I want you to touch me, and kiss me, and make me fall apart."

Sabrina smiles, and not just because she's gotten Rosie's bra off, her hands sliding up to cup the warm swell of her breasts. "Then we're in agreement on all those things," she says, kissing Rosie with her smiling, happy mouth. She'd like to spend more time there, but there's more she finally gets to do.

Her thumbs hook in the waistband of Rosie's panties, tugging them down her hips as she shifts to be half on top, getting the little garment gone and tossed aside. It seems especially important she has Rosie naked and pressed up against her, and Sabrina nudges a thigh between her legs. Oh, she'll get to what she promised, but first, Sabrina needs to get her mouth on Rosie's breasts. She sucks open-mouthed kisses up the slope of one, and wastes no time sucking the sweet point into her mouth, an urgent, relieved noise deep in her thought.

Peeking up at Rosie, she's watching to see if she ought to be more gentle at first, but the suction of her mouth stays firm, tongue laving roughly against the bud of her nipple. One hand smooths along Rosie's belly, sliding down toward the slick apex of her thighs.

Rosie whimpers softly, sweetly, chasing the instinct to bear down on Sabrina's thigh when it's pressed between her legs. The pressure of it is perfect, more so when layered with the hot suction of Sabrina's mouth on her breasts and the sweep of her tongue across one nipple. "Oh," she says, more noise than word as she arches into the feeling, her hips grinding down against the flat of Sabrina's thigh.

She could stay just like that, happily squirming and desperate, her head spinning at the edge of roughness Sabrina's already started to employ. But she's said what she wants, knows what she wants, and as Sabrina's hand slips downwards, Rosie parts her legs to meet it.

All of the possibilities could be overwhelming, and for once in her life, Sabrina's pleased to have pretty clear instructions.

Still, she can't help whispering, "I can't wait to get my mouth on you again," lifting her head so that she can feel their lips brush. "I thought about that a lot, of course," and she sighs a little as her fingertips skim along the slick, slightly swollen lips of Rosie's cunt, "and this," she murmurs, dragging two fingers through all that sweet wetness. She brings them up to her mouth, so very close to Rosie's mouth, and licks them clean before she slides her hand back down and seeks out that little nub of nerve endings.

Letting her thumb circle there, she watches Rosie with dark, blazing eyes. "But I don't want to get ahead of myself," she whispers, and places an almost chaste kiss to her lips. And then she kisses Rosie with a certain hot ferocity and urgency, licking eagerly into her mouth as those same two fingers slip up inside, marveling at the liquid velvet feel all over again.

"That's not a surprise," Rosie says breathlessly, shivering when Sabrina's lips touch hers at the same time as her fingers glide down against her cunt. "That we were both doing a lot of thinking."

Rosie's already dark eyes darken further when she sees Sabrina lick the slick of her cunt off her fingers, more heat sparking within them as she squirms into the circling touch to her clit. "Oh, yes, please," she sighs just before Sabrina's mouth claims hers again, drowning out the needy cry she makes when those slim, beautiful fingers slide into her. Even as wet as she is, as ready, there's still a stretch to it that's utterly perfect.

So many other words rise up in Sabrina, and she still doesn't think they'd be enough for this feeling, suddenly overcome with gratitude and a sorted of heated awe. She pours it into Rosie's mouth, tongue working as if each swipe, each gentle scrape of her teeth, could somehow communicate it all; she hopes it does. She kisses Rosie like she's sealing an oath, which is basically the truth.

She shifts them so that she can keep up the deep, hungry pull of each kiss as she searches out that little sweet spot inside Rosie, stroking her fingertips there once she's found it-- and after a few breathless moments, can bump her wrist, her other hand, anything that works against the tense knot of Rosie's clit.

"I love you," she gasps into Rosie's mouth. "So much, let me feel you."

Rosie moves herself on those fingers, fucks herself and grinds against the heel of Sabrina's hand, lets the angle shift to something hard and perfect and as deep as they both can manage it. "I love you too," she gasps, and it's true; always has been, the deep bedrock unchanged by everything else that's happened between them.

Clinging to Sabrina, she comes with a cry, clenching around her fingers, her hips still rolling to get every bit of pleasure out of the moment.

Sabrina rains down little open-mouthed kisses wherever she can reach on Rosie, on her face and shoulders and the sweet slopes of her breasts. "I love you," she breathes, again and again, until she's sucking the words into the hollow of Rosie's throat as they both wring out Rosie's orgasm for every last moment.

And when Rosie relaxes around her fingers, Sabrina rests her stick hand between them, wiping it briefly on her own flank.

Shifting slightly, she makes sure she can see Rosie's eyes, the angles and curves of her face. Something's changed now, for the better; she can feel it settling in her bones.

They've studied each other like this before, almost exactly like this; flushed and just a little overwhelmed, having given in to something they'd both known was building. Before, it was all hot desire, encouraged but not caused by the new shifts in their little knot of four. It wasn't a false start, but it had been an incomplete one, something they tumbled into rather than fully chose--and maybe that's where the problem had been.

This time, it's something deeper.

Rosie smiles softly, her eyes on Sabrina's, leaning in to rest their foreheads together as she tugs her close with a hand on her hip. "Perfect," she murmurs, and kisses her again. "All of that was perfect."

The exhaustion that comes in the next few moments means nestling in further, dragging the bedclothes over them as Sabrina curls up, her head tucked in the crook of Rosie's neck. She's warm, and happy, and loved. Her fingertips trail along the delicate lines of Rosie's collarbones, dip into the valley between her breasts.

"It was perfect," she agrees. "I just... want to stay, right here." She tips up her face, shining all her adoration up at Rosie, her happiness, even as her eyes grow heavier and heavier. "...sleep together," she murmurs, "and wake up together, and have breakfast, and start the day..."