Archive of Our Own

It started out innocently enough .

After Beltane, Raelle’d spent almost all of her time with Scylla, lamenting over their missed opportunity due to Scylla having had to miss the festivities due to Necro business. In return, Scylla had reciprocated with more than enough physical affection to make up for what they’d missed out on during the holiday. 

In fact, they’d been sitting on Scylla’s bed—Raelle leaning against the wall, three fingers deep in Scylla, when Scylla let out a strangled groan, fingers digging half-moons into the back of Raelle’s neck.

“M’close,” Scylla rasped, barely able to keep her head up, choosing to rest her forehead against Raelle’s. “Fuck. Wish I could take you deeper, wish you were wearing a—”

She tumbled over the edge gracefully, eyebrows knitted together and the breathiest of moans echoing in Raelle’s ears as she watched Scylla with awe and amazement.

It was quiet, but the moment Scylla’s words slipped out, they burned into Raelle’s mind and set up home there. A million ideas and accompanying images fluttering across her imagination at the mere thought of being able to take Scylla with something other than her hands.

Raelle hadn’t been sure how to broach the subject, considering Scylla had pulled her down to the bed by her shirt and made her forget how to form words properly before the two of them fell asleep out of pure exhaustion. Then, afterwards, the overwhelming peace and tranquility of their morning—followed by Raelle’s usual rush to make it to inspection—didn’t really give either of them time to talk about it.

But it’s not like she can just stop thinking about it. In fact, she keeps fucking up her seed sounds during training because she can’t stop thinking about the noises that Scylla would make. At one point, she’s so distracted by the thought of Scylla riding her that she misses Tally yelling for her attention—the next thing she knows, she’s on her back with a mild concussion, the training statue staring blankly and mockingly at her from the other end of the track.

It goes on like this for an entire two days before Raelle gets sick of repeatedly running into door frames.

Which is how she ends up here, sitting legs-crossed on her bunk playing with her hands—a mess of charm-making supplies spread in front of her—staring at Abigail, who’s logging something in her journal.

Raelle purses her lips as she sets down the bowerbird skull and squints at Abigail, trying to weigh the words she wants to say on her tongue to see if she’ll regret saying them later.

“I can feel you staring at me, Collar. What do you want?”

She has half a mind to roll her eyes and stay silent; but the truth of the matter is, Abigail probably knows the answer to her question, and she’d rather look like a fool to someone who already considers her a shitbird than make a fool out of herself in front of someone who doesn’t deserve the right to judge her.

She takes a deep breath and lets out a deeper sigh, scratching at her jaw in irritation before levelling Abigail with a semi-serious gaze.

“Where can I go uh—”

Fuck, Abigail’s turned around now, looking at her with a curious stare that makes Raelle want to just up and leave without finishing her sentence.

“Where can one…acquire...” Raelle cringes at the phrasing and attempts to rearrange the words in her brain. Is it too loose to just call it a ‘strap’? Abigail’s High Atlantic, it might be more acceptable if:

Raelle tries, “A dil—”

Nope, absolutely not.

Abigail’s getting impatient, Raelle can see it in the way her head drops forward a little and bobs in an act that clearly reads as get on with it .

Raelle huffs, staring down at the charm that she’s in the middle of crafting and only thinks of Scylla. It’s enough to get her to suck it up and finally gesture loosely with her hands as she says, “A certain object worn for sexual pleasure.”

To her credit, Abigail doesn’t laugh. She simply leans back in her chair and offers a sly smirk. “Oh. You mean a strap.”

Raelle flushes pink and has the immediate urge to stick her face in her pillow and disappear or just get up and walk away. But instead, she takes another deep breath and forces herself to nod awkwardly with a strained hum of agreement.

The look on Abigail’s face is absolutely infuriating, and it’s enough to make Raelle want the earth beneath her to crack open and claim her entire being.

“You can go to Berryessa. Ask to fill out the requisition form for one.” Abigail’s smirk is mocking—it makes Raelle squirm uncomfortably, embarrassed. “I’m sure she has some left over from Beltane. They go like candy during the holiday.”

Raelle can only suck her bottom lip between her teeth and nod again. “Thanks.”

“Anytime, shitbird.” Just like that, Abigail’s turned back around, her focus directed into the books in front of her, but still with that smarmy smirk on her face.

She wishes she could find the hate she once had for Abigail, but she can’t. Instead, Raelle just shakes her head and goes back to preparing the bird skull in front of her.

xx

She stumbles her way through the entire interaction with Berryessa, but does indeed leave with the promise of an approved form.

“It’s mostly a bureaucratic formality,” Berryessa assured her with a warm smile. “It’ll go through with no problem and you can expect it to be tossed into your mailbox in a couple of days.”

Raelle nodded and left as fast as she could.

xx

“D’you have Sunday off?” Raelle smiles from Scylla’s bed.

She’s laying down on her side and watching Scylla flip through some old dusty book on the ground beside her. Her girlfriend leans up against the frame in a position where she can be as close as possible to Raelle without getting distracted by Raelle’s constant need for touch—which often urges them into bouts of inefficiency.

Scylla lets out a small huff of laughter. She tilts her head back to rest on the mattress and smiles back at Raelle, upside down and utterly charming. “Why? Are you trying to drag me to Sunday service to sing songs to the goddess and analyze scriptures?”

Raelle lets out a full belly laugh, hand reaching out to gently thread her fingers into Scylla’s hair in order to stroke it back. “No.” The affection in her eyes is painfully obvious, she’s sure, “I’m trying to convince you to sneak off base. Go on a date with me.”

There’s butterflies in her stomach despite the way Scylla’s small smile spreads into a full-on beaming grin. There’s something about the way it affects her. Something dangerous, something with a bright yellow warning label glued to the front. Caution . And yet, Raelle finds herself wandering ever closer to it, like a moth to a flame.

“Raelle Collar! Such a rebel. You might be a bad influence on me.”

“Mm. Don’t let Anacostia know; she might forbid me from seeing you.”

It’s a dance. 

It’s always a dance between the two of them—a battle of wits, charm, and desire.

Scylla abandons her book, shutting it and sliding it onto the nightstand before standing and plopping herself down on the bed next to Raelle, head propped up on her hand, just looking at Raelle. She smells like a strange mix of flowers and laundry detergent; it floods Raelle’s senses and makes a fond warmth spread from the tips of her ears all the way down to her stomach.

“Are you sure you want to take the risk of getting caught and dropping in rankings again?”

A small frown ticks at the corners of Raelle’s mouth as she brings one of her free hands to Scylla’s and presses her fingers to splay their hands open, palm against palm, before lacing their fingers together.

“I’m sneaky.”

She can hear the pout in her own voice, but the responding laughter she gets from Scylla makes her feel like she could fly.

“Yeah, sneaky like a drunken sixteen-year-old stumbling home after a party she was forbidden to go to.”

That prickles something inside Raelle. She bites her lip, eyebrows furrowed as she weighs the question on her tongue, wondering if it’ll make Scylla pull away like other questions about her past have.

“Is that, uh,”—fuck it—“is that from experience?”

Scylla’s smile is somber as she pulls her hand from Raelle’s. For a moment, Raelle’s brain scrambles to possibly apologize, but then Scylla’s pressing their palm’s flat together again and pushing with just enough pressure to turn Raelle onto her back before moving to straddle her.

Feeling the way Scylla slides onto her lap so easily is like having a gallon of gasoline dumped onto her body followed by a lit match thrown on top.

“A date, huh?” She’s looking down at Raelle with an unreadable expression, but her smile turned from sad to sly, and the effect on Raelle’s heart is immediate. “What are you planning?”

Scylla’s so pretty above her like this, eyes bluer than the deepest sea and brighter than every star that Raelle can name off the top of her head. She gets so lost in them that she forgets to reply, until Scylla’s quirks an eyebrow out of pure amusement and brings Raelle’s hand up to her mouth for a soft kiss to her knuckles.

“Earth to Collar.”

Scylla’s voice kickstarts Raelle’s single functioning brain cell and she has to shake her head slightly and blink back into focus. “Uh.” What was she?—oh, right. “It’s a surprise. Nothing big, just something to pull us away from base for a little while.”

“Is our tree not enough for you anymore?”

Raelle lets out a small scoff. “Of course it’s enough. Just your pinky is enough for me.”

“Just my pinky?” Scylla laughs again, brighter than Betelgeuse and Procyon and Sirius combined, hands still laced together with Raelle’s.

Raelle’s so busy focusing on the way Scylla’s smile is so wide it dimples just a little at the corners that she doesn’t think her words over at all. “I mean, I’ll take more than just your pinky if you’re offering, I—”

Thank every god and goddess for urging Scylla to lean down and shut Raelle up with the soft, soft, softest of kisses. It’s the kind of gentle that makes Raelle’s heart ache.

“So, it’s that yes to Sunday?” Raelle presses, pulling just an inch away in order to look into Scylla’s heavy-lidded eyes.

“It’s a yes. Now, please shut up and kiss me.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Raelle mumbles, hands finally freed so she can slide them down Scylla’s back and into her trouser pockets to pull her girlfriend closer against her as she leans in for another kiss.

Scylla laughs against her lips and Raelle rolls them over easily to nuzzle her head into the crook of Scylla’s neck, pressing a sweet kiss to Scylla’s pulse point. She pulls away again only because of a sudden reminder that pops into her head. “Wait. Wait, wait.”

The way Scylla looks up at her with a pout is almost enough to get Raelle to drop what she’s going to say, but she barrels forwards anyway.

“I just… need to check in,” she takes a deep breath, grounding herself. “The other night, when you mentioned you wished I was wearing a strap…were you serious?”

Oh . The way Scylla’s smile spread across her face as her cheeks flare up into the prettiest shade of pink is enough to make Raelle’s heart swell with endearment. Scylla says nothing, but gives the surest of nods.

“Cool. Cool, cool. Just checking,” Raelle replies breathlessly, leaning down to resume their kiss.

She feels Scylla smiling against her lips, and she can’t help but smile back, her heart leaping forward as they press closer together.

xx

Sunday rolls around like molasses, too slow but also sweet enough to keep Raelle bouncing on her toes the entire morning. Her hyperactivity only gets worse when Tally comes back to their room with a stack of their mail and a rectangular black box.

Tally tosses their letters into a small pile on Abigail’s desk before waving the box around, shaking it next to her ear, “What’s this?”

Raelle’s attention darts up from the algiz rune that she’s painting on a small skull, barely avoiding fucking up the rune with the way she hastily (but carefully) drops everything to stand up and rush to Tally before curiosity urges her friend to open it.

She manages to grab the box from Tally’s hands with little to no problem. “It’s that thing I put in a requisition for earlier this week.”

There’s a small pause where Tally’s confused frown begs for Raelle to answer the obvious and unspoken question on her mind, but Abigail breaks the silence with a small chuckle before she can tell Tally to mind her own business.

“Oh, the strap?”

God help her if Raelle ever acts on the urge to strangle a Bellweather.

The damage is done though, because Tally’s face has opened up into possibly the wildest grin accompanied by wide, excited eyes. Abigail, sitting on her bunk, has dropped her book and is now watching the exchange with the most amused expression known to humankind.

“Tally, n—”

“You requisitioned a,” her voice lowers into a hushed whisper despite the fact that their door is closed and everyone in the room clearly knows what’s in the box, “ strap-on? ”

“You banged Gerit against a tree for an entire night!”

Tally breezes over that completely too easily. “Is it for Scylla?”

The way Tally’s eyebrows are bobbing up and down would be comedic if Raelle didn’t want to put her in a headlock and choke her out on the spot.

“Yes, it’s for Scylla, who else—” Raelle has to press her hand against her forehead to bring her temper back down. “Yes. I’m taking Scylla out later today.”

Tally bounces on her feet, jaw dropping into an even bigger smile as she wiggles excitedly in place, “oh! You’re sneaking off base?”

Abigail snorts, “no you’re not! If you get caught, that’s all of our heads on the line and I’m not losing our chances at war college so you can get some.”

Raelle’s immediate comeback is cut off by Tally, who throws her arms up with an accompanying pout, “Abigail! It’s love! They missed Beltane!”

‘It’s love’ cuts into Raelle like a hot knife through butter and she’s staring down intensely at the box in her hands, an entire tornado of affection and lust in her chest.

“It can be whatever they want but we’re talking about risking our entire future so Raelle can get some ?” Abigail snaps, sitting up straighter in her bunk and sliding forward so her feet are touching the ground. “That’s not pragmatic or smart at all!”

Tally matches Abigail’s heightened pose and Raelle’s pleasantly surprised at the strength behind her voice. “We’re going to cover for them because Raelle’s our friend and a win for her is a win for us.”

The offended look on Abigail’s face lasts for a split second before it morphs into one of subdued respect at the way Tally took her own words and turned them around on her.

“Besides, it’s Sunday! Nobody’s going to come looking for Raelle and if they do, we’ll just say she’s indisposed.” Tally shrugs, a smile back on her face now that Abigail’s protests have ended.

There are a million things about Tally Craven that make her a good friend, Raelle’s decided. Her willingness to cover and protect those that she’s accepted into her inner circle ranks pretty high on that list. 

Raelle doesn’t really have the words to express her thanks, so instead she opens her arms and laughs when Tally practically catapults herself into them and begins swaying them side to side.

Abigail, on the other hand, gives an exasperated sigh and a playful roll of her eyes before flopping back onto her bed and reaching for the book that she’d abandoned.

“So, tell me! Where are you going to take her?” Tally lets go to move towards Raelle’s dresser to swing the doors open and examine her collection of clothes—slightly wincing at the varying shades of plaid and denim. “What are you going to wear? ”

“I don’t know, I kinda want us to just be able to feel like normal people for once. I’m thinking about catching the bus with her to that nice mall in town,” Raelle grimaces a tiny bit, worrying her thumb against a corner of the box in her hands. “And, I’m not sure. Something easy to stash and change out of when we sneak back on base? I might even just…wear my dress blues.”

“With the strap? That’s so against dress regulations.” Abigail scoffs from the flat of her back, staring at the ceiling with the book abandoned again , this time laying open against her chest.

Raelle’s this close to throwing hands.

“Also, you’re not going to be able to sneak off and back on base in dress blues.” Abigail hums, eyes dancing playfully at the way Raelle’s face is flooding with a mix of embarrassment and rage.

“ Also also, that’s a boring and unremarkable outfit for your first real off-base date. Come here.” Tally waves her hand, gesturing for Raelle to step closer to her.

Raelle does as she’s told, albeit reluctantly, quietly sliding the box onto her bunk while trudging to Tally.

“’Kay, if you’re going to take Scylla to the mall for a date, I’m thinking classy but casual.”

It takes every ounce of will in Raelle not to grumble while Tally begins to raid their collective wardrobes for an outfit to her liking.

In the end, Raelle stands in front of the mirror in an outfit that she’s not terribly upset at. In fact, she could be convinced to admit that she’s rather happy with the way she looks.

Tally spins her around, tugging firmly on the front of the short sleeved floral button up that they’d dug out from the bottom of Raelle’s duffle before sticking her hand into the front of Raelle’s pants to tuck the front in. She barely grazes the extra accessory that Raelle had slipped on in private and draws a small yelp from Raelle.

“Dude!”

“We already had to put you in ripped jeans, I’m trying to clean you up as much as I can and it won’t work if you don’t tuck your shirt in a little!”

“I can tuck my shirt in myself!” Raelle huffs indignantly, backing two steps up from her friend and turning her body to hide from Tally while she finishes tucking in the front of her shirt and undoing the top two buttons.

Abigail chuckles from where she’s putting away all the rejected clothes. “You know, for someone who’s so short, you have surprisingly long legs—I didn’t think those would fit on you. We only had to cuff them a couple of times.”

Raelle doesn’t know whether to thank her or throw the entirety of Tally’s locker at her.

Thankfully, Tally steps in between them with a pair of desert boots in her hand and a sly expression painted on her face. “They might be a bit big on you, but you know what they say: big feet big str—”

“Okay! Thank you! I have to get going now!” Raelle interrupts, grabbing the shoes and slipping them on hurriedly. She barely manages to get the laces done before she’s hit in the face with her favorite oversized corduroy jacket.

When she looks up, Abigail is smirking at her from where she knows she had left the jacket. “It’s gonna be cold tonight.”

Raelle pretends to miss the way Tally’s face lights up at Abigail’s minor act of fondness. Instead, she offers a small nod of thanks before shuffling out of the room.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Tally calls after her. Raelle has to stifle the small smile on her face before turning to make her way to Scylla’s dorm.

Scylla fidgets nervously in front of her mirror, fingers tugging uncomfortably at the deep blue sundress that she’s slipped on. It’s been a while since she’s worn civilian clothes that she’s felt like herself in. It feels strange, like stepping into a place she didn’t know she had missed or realizing she didn’t know her last words to someone would be the last until it’s three years down the line and nothing’s the same.

She has to clear her throat and lift a hand to press it against the small cowrie shell necklace in order to shake the memories of her mother’s worried but smiling face.

Her reflection stares back at her judgingly and she has to quash the way a voice in the back of her head questions as to why exactly she’s dolling up for a date with a mark whom she has to turn in next week.

It’s even harder to ignore the other voice that insists, Raelle’s not just another mark.

Yet it’s true, Raelle’s not just another mark.

She’s unlike anybody Scylla’s ever met.

She’s funny and warm yet all sorts of brash and insistent when she has her mind set on something. She’s always finding ways to surprise Scylla and make her smile when she’s least expecting it.

Not to mention that Raelle Collar has this weirdly fool-proof way to make Scylla care about things. Things like looking good for her or making just the right comment to make her laugh. Things like wanting Raelle to be successful in her training.

It’s troublesome.

She tells herself it’s because she needs to win over Raelle’s trust.

She’s not sure she even believes that.

With a heavy sigh, Scylla turns around to do a final sweep of the things she needs to bring: her wallet, room key, and medallion all safely tucked into the hidden pockets of her dress.

Scylla’s in the middle of tying the laces to her shoes – a simple pair of sneakers – when there’s a small rhythmic knock at her door followed by it gently swinging open to reveal a polished Raelle Collar, all shy smiles and soft eyes standing in her doorway.

“Hey, you.” Raelle rasps, one hand still on the handle while the other grips the frame. “You look… wow.”

The smile on her own face is probably beaming, but Scylla can’t seem to ever help it around Raelle. “Just wow, huh? I was hoping for maybe an ‘ooh’ or an ‘ahh’ but I guess I’ll settle for wow.”

Raelle laughs; it’s the kind of laughter that has her dropping her head forward with her shoulders shaking slightly. Scylla has to press down the urge to just pull Raelle into her room and forget entirely about whatever outing Raelle has planned for them.

Instead, she stands up and does a small playful twirl to land directly in front of Raelle, who’s now just looking at her with the expression of pure adoration. There’s a part of Scylla that preens proudly at how she has Raelle exactly where she wants her. There’s another part that prickles at the thought of losing that expression in any way.

Again, it’s troublesome .

“You look really good too.” Scylla stifles her emotions in favor of bringing a hand to the collar of Raelle’s shirt, pressing it down. “Cleaned up well all for me.”

The way Raelle ducks her head and blushes does something unspeakable to her heartbeat.

“Thanks.” Her eyes are such a gorgeous blue that Scylla has to force herself to look down at Raelle’s neck to stop herself from doing anything stupid. “You ready to go?”

Raelle offers her hand and Scylla finds herself taking it with no hesitation.

“Always.” Scylla smiles, interlocking their fingers and squeezing firmly.

She tries to convince herself it’s to solidify the hold she has on Raelle but the way her heart tugs when Raelle’s smile widens and she pulls them out of the room and into the hallway says otherwise.

xx

Sneaking off base isn’t as hard as it sounds. There are a couple of patrols, but for the most part, Scylla has mastered slipping in and out using tiny lapses in the patrol patterns.

Which begs the question of how she’d let herself be caught that very first day out by the storm range.

“Shhh, this way!” Raelle urges, tugging on Scylla’s hand to pull the two of them out from around the corner of the building they were hiding behind and clear through the unwatched gate.

Scylla knows the answer.

She knows it in the way her legs automatically follow Raelle. In the way she can’t help but laugh when Raelle turns to look back at her with a wide smile and eyes that sparkle with all sorts of mischief.

Raelle Collar has been a giant blind spot on her heart from the very beginning.

And she doesn’t know how to fix it.

They weave around a couple more corners until they hit the bus stop, semi-out of breath from booking it like a pair of teenagers outrunning trouble. For a moment, while Scylla’s leaned up against the bus stop post to catch her breath, she also catches Raelle just looking at her with some indiscernible emotion. Suddenly her lack of breath has nothing to do with the half mile they’ve just run.

“What?” She questions with a small laugh, hoping none of the way her heart is overflowing is as evident in her own eyes.

Raelle shakes her head, standing back up to full height and adjusting her jacket around herself, all cute and frumpy over an outfit that Scylla’s honestly a little wary of seeing on its own for fear of what it might do to her heart.

“Nothing! You just look,” Raelle licks her lips, an easy shrug rolling off her shoulders, “really beautiful.”

Scylla has to make a conscious effort to keep looking at Raelle instead of ducking her head like some smitten school girl. Yet she still feels as vulnerable and raw even just looking into Raelle’s pale gaze. Like she has some innate ability to peel back every carefully constructed layer that Scylla has ever put up in order to see directly into what she’s actually feeling.

The only thing Scylla can think of to do is take two steps forward and press a small kiss to Raelle’s lips, drawing out a dopey smile from her. It’s soft and sweet and everything Scylla never expected to feel.

She’s about to lean in for another kiss when the hum and screech of a loud bus pulls up next to them, interrupting the way Raelle’s just staring at her lips.

“Shall we?” Scylla smirks, hand gripping the edge of Raelle’s jacket and tugging her firmly towards the opening doors of the bus.

Raelle nods and trails after her wordlessly, climbing the steps after her.

It’s ridiculous that Scylla can’t stop herself from imagining that this is the last time they’ll be back on base. That they’re boarding this bus to leave for somewhere far, far, far away.

She’s knocked out of her fantasy by the sudden lurch of the bus when it starts moving. It jostles enough to push her forward and she almost falls, but then there’s an arm around her and the warmth of Raelle at her back, keeping her from hitting the ground.

“Careful.”

Scylla blames the sudden increased rate of her heartbeat on almost falling and chooses to gently press a small kiss to the corner of Raelle’s mouth. “Thank you.”

They slide into a pair of seats and when Scylla looks over at Raelle, her leg is shaking a bit, her hands linked together, and her gaze is distracted—staring directly into the back of the seat in front of her.

It’s kind of cute.

“You’re not pulling me away to some hidden spot in the woods to lure me into a crime operation or feed me to wild animals, are you?” Scylla chances the joke and immediately regrets the pang of guilt that echoes through her heart.

But Raelle turns to look at her with a nervous smile and small chuckle. “No! I’m just worried you’re not going to like what I had planned. It’s not much, just warning you. Nothing special. I just—”

“I’m happy to do anything as long as it’s with you.”

A pause stretches between them. Raelle untangles her own hands from each other so she can lace her fingers with Scylla’s, bringing their hands up to kiss her knuckles.

“Ditto.”

The rest of the ride is quiet, but it feels easy . There’s a comfort between the two of them that silence can’t sully and Scylla catches herself wondering if it’ll ever be like this with anybody else.

xx

A mall.

If there is some sort of higher power, they must find the strangest pleasure in making fun of Scylla.

Raelle helps her off the last bus step and lets out a small, timid laugh. “I wanted to give us a day just to feel normal.” She reasons, slipping her hand into Scylla’s and guiding her through the sliding doors of the large building. “And what’s more normal than walking around a monolith of American corporate capitalistic greed with a pretty girl that you’re super into, right?”

She can sense Raelle’s nerves in the way she rambles slightly and grips Scylla’s hands just a smidge tighter than she usually does.

It’s so magnetic and alluring that it draws a smile from Scylla without her even registering it regardless of the way her stomach drops a little at the smell of the mall and the memory it urges forth.

“Tell me you don’t hate this?” Raelle’s face scrunches, teeth worrying her bottom lip and looking for all the world like she’s waiting for Scylla to ask her to take them back to base.

“I don’t hate it.” Scylla laughs, tugging at Raelle’s hand and running her thumb across Raelle’s index finger to soothe her. She watches Raelle’s shoulders immediately relax in relief as her smile goes from shy to broad. “I think you’re very sweet and I can’t wait to make you try on ridiculous clothes.”

Raelle’s face drops into an expression that’s a mix of fear and resignation—the look of somebody who knows there’s no use in trying to convince Scylla otherwise.

“I mean I don’t—” Raelle tries, but Scylla’s already pulling them further into the mall towards one of the big department stores, laughing gleefully at the way Raelle only seems to grip onto her hand tighter so they can’t get split up in the cross traffic of normal people going about their normal everyday lives.

xx

There’s something horribly hilarious and charming about watching Raelle try (and fail) at putting on a jacket. She’s fumbling in front of the mirror, struggling to get her arm into the correct hole and turning in circles like a dog chasing its own tail.

Scylla lets her continue for a few seconds more before stepping in front of her and holding her still. All she receives in return is a dopey embarrassed smile that makes her smile instinctively in return.

“Here, let me help.” She fixes the crumpled fabric and is able to successfully help Raelle put on the simple black bomber jacket, smoothing out the crinkles and weird folds that were caused by Raelle’s ministrations. “This is nice.”

It’s more than nice, actually.

Scylla knows and can admit that Raelle’s attractive; regardless of the tangled mess of emotions that she has for the other girl, she also has a pair of working eyes that are always very appreciative of the fact that her mark is absurdly good-looking.

Her working eyes can also very much pick out every passing girl that gives Raelle a semi-interested onceover. She doesn’t think about the way something in her rears with possessiveness that has to be pushed back into the corner of her heart.

It’s fine. It’s not worth thinking about. The bottom line is that Raelle looks good . Like, almost better than when she was wearing a suit jacket with nothing underneath.

Almost.

Raelle huffs a breath, turning in front of the mirror to fully take in the jacket that Scylla has insisted she try on in place of the oversized corduroy one that’s now slung over a rack of clothes.

“I don’t know. It feels so… new .” She fidgets with the edges of the jacket. “Never really wore any brand-new clothes in the Cession. Most of my wardrobe is made up of hand-me-downs from my dad or the neighbors’ kids.”

“Same, actually. Not too many opportunities to go shopping and look pretty while you’re on the run.”

Raelle’s reflection smiles at Scylla before dropping her eyebrows into a playful crinkle. “Wait! You know my neighbors? Oh my god, were you the one that snatched the Spiderman shirt that I wanted in the 6th grade from the thrift shop in town?”

It’s things like that—the quiet understanding that it’s hard for Scylla to talk about being a dodger and the choice to take each small morsel of her history with such carefulness—that makes Raelle so dangerous.

“You look pretty regardless of what you’re wearing or doing, by the way.” Raelle adds, turning her head to directly look at Scylla.

Scylla steps closer behind her, wrapping her arms around Raelle and resting her chin on her shoulder, admiring the way they look in the mirror.

Clean, smiling, comfortable.

The warmth of Raelle in her arms is addictive; the way she leans back into Scylla’s arms even more so.       

And for a moment—a brief lapse in the stream and flow of time—Scylla lets herself imagine a life like this with Raelle. Wandering around a crowded mall with no immediate responsibilities, smiling and laughing with each other, eating cheap pretzels and people-watching until places start closing down for the night.

For a moment, she thinks she knows what freedom might feel like.

But then a loud bark of laughter chimes out from somewhere in the store and it rips Scylla from her daydream.

Reality settles back over her, heavy and oppressive; the thought that someone might’ve been spending their day doing exactly all of that all those weeks ago when Scylla let go of that balloon in the other mall. An uncomfortable sort of tightness lodges itself in her chest and—

“Scyl?”

Her vision snaps back to focus on Raelle’s concerned gaze, watching her in the mirror.

Scylla smiles sheepishly. “Sorry, I was thinking about ice cream.”

It’s a weak excuse and she knows Raelle doesn’t really believe her because all she receives in return is the gentlest of smiles. There’s no pity in it, only understanding. It’s the sort of smile that makes Scylla’s throat tighten up.

Raelle slips out of the bomber jacket far faster than she was able to put it on and throws it back on the rack in record time, grabbing her own jacket and offering her hand to Scylla afterwards. “Why don’t we go grab some on the way to the arcade? I think I saw one on the directory map earlier.”

“Oh, you’re going to regret suggesting that. I’m amazing at Street Fighter.”

Raelle throws on her dad’s old jacket with far less trouble; it’s like watching her slip on a second skin. “You’re on, Ramshorn.”

She lets Raelle guide them this time and they take a slower, less excited pace. Scylla’s tucked against Raelle’s side, hand holding onto the arm that’s slung over her shoulders while they make their way with the flow of traffic towards the food court. They move at the same rate, taking small pauses along the way to get distracted by pretty things on display or fascinating things being sold at random kiosks.

“You think Abigail would be mad if I bought one of those automated toy snakes and stuck it in her bunk?” Raelle asks, smirking as they leave one of the toy kiosks.

Scylla imagines High and Mighty letting out a shriek that she can hear from across campus and feels a weird sense of joy and warmth. “I think you should maybe hold back from trying to die before graduation.”

“Aw!” Raelle preens, “you don’t want me to die!”

“If you died, who would help me power up?” Scylla shrugs with a cocky smile on her face, wiggling her eyebrows goofily at Raelle.

Raelle only smiles back, eyes darting down to Scylla’s lips obviously enough that Scylla easily gives her what she wants with a playful eyeroll.

It’s a short sweet peck to Raelle’s lips while they’re surrounded by a bunch of strangers trying to move around them to their destination, but for a brief moment Scylla feels like it’s just the two of them in their own little world. Suspended in time and blissfully separate from any trouble or worries that they might have.

When she pulls away, Raelle’s eyes are barely fluttering open, full of wonder and affection. Scylla can’t help but wonder if hers are portraying the same.

There’s a warm heat that settles firmly somewhere in her stomach, simmering and licking up her insides. She has to clear her throat and blink her own way through the hazy onset of attraction.

“Come on, you said we’d go get ice cream.” Another tug on Raelle’s hands to kickstart her brain and they’re back to the rhythm of exploring and hunting for frozen treats.

They do eventually find an ice cream shop, tucked in the far end of the food court next to the children’s playground and a bunch of tired parents stuck with babysitting duty.

“What flavor do you want?” Raelle asks, playfully swinging their hands gently between them.

“Just a scoop of vanilla on a cone, please.”

Raelle levels her with a cute, crinkled frown, “that’s it?”

“Why mess with a classic?”

Raelle looks like she’s going to argue, but Scylla quirks a single brow and she lets out a small huff instead, letting go of Scylla’s hand for the first time to go buy their treats.

In the end, Scylla gets her single scoop cone of vanilla while Raelle hums happily into her double scoop cup of moose tracks with extra chocolate sprinkles while they make their way from the crowded center of the mall to the other side where the arcade is.

Raelle pauses when she realizes that she can’t hold Scylla’s hand and use the spoon to eat her ice cream at the same time, so she settles for eating from the cup like it’s a cone while lacing their fingers back together. It’s messy and when she finishes the majority of the treat, she ends up with ice cream smeared on her nose and it’s endearing .

“Are you going to wait until the rest melts and just drink it?” Scylla jokes, spinning the last bit of her sugar cone between her thumb and index finger.

Raelle smiles proudly, ice cream still smeared on her nose, “maybe! Or maybe I’ll just eat the cup.”

It’s so stupid and funny that it pulls the laughter from Scylla effortlessly and she has to duck her head and avoid Raelle’s playful smile because it’s all just so fucking charming.

Scylla keeps finding herself wishing she could freeze time or just take Raelle and run to somewhere far away where they can just spend the rest of their days like this: carefree and so absent of worry that Raelle looks like she doesn’t carry an ounce of the normal anger and grief that Scylla knows is buried in her.

But that’s not realistic. It’s not logical. Because at the end of all of this, Scylla is going to have to take Raelle into the Spree. In a few days, she has to follow through with her assignment and do what she needs to do in order to continue avenging her parents.

What does it mean that part of her roars at the thought of having to let Raelle go? What does it mean that part of her knows she’d drop everything to take Raelle and disappear to somewhere safe and hidden?

“You’re ridiculous.” She settles for the neutral response, slowing their stroll to toss the remains of her cone into a nearby trash can.

A cold draft of air hits her and she shivers involuntarily, ready to let the moment pass without mention. But instead, she feels a warm weight and familiar scent of Raelle envelope her as the big corduroy jacket is draped around her.

When she turns, Raelle is smiling at her like she was just caught petting a puppy or giving a small child a handful of candy. All sweetness and joy.

Scylla smiles back and reaches her free hand up to wipe away the smudge of melted ice cream that’s still on Raelle’s nose. “Thank you.”

That look is back on Raelle’s face. The warm affectionate one that seems to melt down into Scylla’s very core, tunneling through her walls and making it incredibly hard for her to breathe.

So, who could blame her for giving into her urges? She does give a vague cursory look around the mall for a quick second to make sure no people are watching before pressing herself into Raelle and kissing her deeply enough to taste the chocolate and peanut butter on her lips.

There’s a paradox between being left breathless by the way Raelle is and feeling like she’s maybe breathing for the first time in her life simply because Raelle’s lips are sliding so sweetly between hers.

She could get drunk just on the feeling of Raelle’s lips dragging sticky and sweet against her own, kissing her slow and soft until Scylla presses closer—glides her tongue across Raelle’s lips and feels… something prominent and solid pressing against her hip.

Scylla pulls away to frown confusedly at Raelle, eyes struggling not to drop down to stare at her lips. “Are you wearing a—”

Her mouth goes dry and her throat struggles to push out enough air for the next word, so she just stands there gaping with what she’s sure is a fiery blush across her cheeks.

Raelle’s smirk is cocky and entirely too confident as she separates from Scylla to toss the remains of her ice cream away before taking her hand and pulling towards the arcade, “I’ll show you if you kick my ass at Street Fighter like you said you would.”

She trails behind, brain stuck in a loop of the sensation of feeling something pressing against her like that and the memory of the way her heart tugged at Raelle’s semi-raspy voice accompanied by the sight of her smile.

It’s a wonder she doesn’t trip while following Raelle into the dim arcade hall that’s lit only by blacklights and neon signs.

Scylla remains distracted all the way until Raelle’s acquired a fistful of tokens and guided them to the (thankfully unoccupied) row of stick fighter consoles along the back wall. Even then, as she’s watching Raelle load up the coins for player slots, she shamelessly lets her eyes drag up and down her form.

The outfit that Abigail and Tally picked out for her is no doubt flattering—it hugs her in all the right places and makes her already long legs look like they might go on for miles. Not to mention the decision to leave the top two buttons undone, the chain for her medallion slipping past her clavicle and dipping into the shirt where Scylla wishes she could see.

She’s snapped out of her reverie by Raelle clearing her throat with a sneaky smile, “You ready?”

Scylla nods hurriedly, “I’m just trying to remember the combos I need to kick your ass.”

“Put your fight stick where your mouth is.”

“Oh, I fully intend to.” Scylla smirks, gaze dropping down to Raelle’s hips for a split second before returning back up to Raelle’s eyes which are notably darker than they were mere moments ago.

She doesn’t wait for Raelle’s response before slapping the ready buttons at the same time, forcing the other girl to drop whatever she’s thinking in order to play the game.

Scylla ends up winning, but she can tell Raelle’s mind is on something else in the way she keeps scrambling on the buttons and messing up.

“Okay! Rematch! That was completely unfair!” Raelle pouts, hastily tapping the buttons to accelerate them back to the character select screen. “You played dirty.”

Scylla’s about to reply when a small thud echoes behind them somewhere followed by the sound of a child beginning to cry. Her first instinct is to shake it off and resume the game, but Raelle’s already turned around and looking for the source of the noise.

Before she knows it, Raelle is gone from her side and kneeled down next to a little girl who’s cradling her knee and wailing at the top of her lungs while a little boy stands next to her, looking worried and like he might also cry just out of fear.

“Hey—hey, hey. You’re okay.” Raelle soothes, looking around for the two kids’ supervisors, but finding no one.

“She was running for the skee-ball machine and she fell! Please don’t tell anyone, our parents might never let us go out alone again.” The boy’s panicking, words flying from his mouth at too high a speed to even properly understand. His sister, Scylla assumes, is still sobbing, cradling her tiny hands around a scraped-up knee.

Raelle offers a soft smile and Scylla can’t help but melt a little where she stands.

“It’s okay, I won’t tell anybody.” She offers him a pinky finger and he hesitates before wrapping his own pinky around it nervously.

It’s loud in the arcade hall but Scylla can distinctly hear Raelle’s words when she gently removes the little girl’s hands from her knee and replaces them with her own; the soft but sure recitation of bible verses picking up and merging with the humming of the machines around them as her work begins to take effect.

She watches as the little girl stops crying, the ugly bleeding scrape on her knees mending and healing itself before her very eyes as she and her brother watch on in fascination.

“There you go, all better.” Raelle stands to her full height, offering a hand to the little girl and helping her up. “But if I get to keep your secret, can I ask you to keep mine? Let’s keep this between us and my friend over there, yeah?”

The boy’s eyes dart up to look at Scylla, as if noticing her there for the first time, and Scylla gives a small wave – still too enraptured in Raelle’s actions to say anything.

He nods hurriedly and grabs his sister’s hands, smiling wide—all missing teeth and innocent happiness. “Yes, Ms. Witch, ma’am! Thank you!”

The little girl nods along, still staring at her knee like she just witnessed a miracle. “Yeah! Thank you!!”

And off they go, running off again towards the skee-ball machines.

“Hey! Go slower this time!” Raelle calls after them and Scylla has to stifle the small laugh that escapes her when the two kids immediately slow down to a speed walk.

Raelle returns back to her side with an apologetic smile and a hand at the small of her back. “Hi, sorry.”

Just a simple, soft, completely unnecessary apology from Raelle has Scylla’s heart threatening to leap out of her chest. She’s speechless at the kind of person Raelle Collar is.

Full of pain and sorrow with the idea of martyrdom tucked into her chest. Yet she’s still so giving, so thoughtlessly brave and willing to help every person that crosses her path no matter how small and needless the task.

“Scyl? You there?” Raelle prods, casually leaning against the machine with a soft smile, as easy and casual as breathing—like she’s not in the process of taking Scylla’s entire heart into her hands.

In the purple-and-green glow of the arcade hall, Raelle’s smile is the warmest thing and Scylla finds herself gravitating towards it mindlessly. Dangerously.

“Yeah, just…” Scylla lets out a small laugh, at a loss for real words. “You’re just amazing, I think.”

“Not as amazing as you at Street Fighter.” She flirts easily, charisma and allure all wrapped up in the prettiest shade of blue. “Where’d you even learn how to play that well?”

“Uh, my dad.” Scylla starts, suddenly having to avoid Raelle’s gaze while she tries to remember her dad’s face: the way it moved, the way he smiled. “He used to take me to arcades in each new town we’d go to. To make me more comfortable. He said that as long as we could be comfortable and have fun somewhere, that place could be our home.”

Scylla’s never been particularly talented at talking about her past. Even in the Spree, where dozens of people had the same stories, the same pains—Scylla was never able to just talk about things she missed about her parents. It always felt like the more she said out loud, the less those things belonged to her.

And yet here she is. Spilling one of her most treasured memories of her father at the feet of her mark, the person she’s supposed to turn over in less than a week.

After a small stretch of silence, Raelle steps an inch closer and slides her palm into Scylla’s, lifting her hand and giving it a comforting kiss.

“Thank you for sharing that.” She whispers, barely loud enough to hear over the cacophony of the arcade and its denizens. Yet, despite the noise and small crowds milling about, Scylla feels like she’s all alone with Raelle. Like it’s just the two of them standing quietly by a video game that her dad taught her how to play. It’s just Raelle’s calm eyes and soft smile watching her like she’s the most beautiful, pure, untouchable thing in the world.

Scylla doesn’t know if the urge to cry is because she’s so incredibly fucked or if it’s because she doesn’t think she can ever give Raelle up now.

Instead of crying, however, she tries to give Raelle an equally as soft smile. “Thank you for making it easy to talk about him with you.”

Raelle’s gaze twinkles and she shrugs like Scylla just thanked her for passing the salt and not for making it easy to be vulnerable with her. “Anytime. Wanna kick my ass some more? Dibs on Cammy this time though.”

The laugh that breaks from Scylla’s chest is so natural, so unburdened that she almost doesn’t recognize it. “Of course. Not that it’s going to help you win.”

“Don’t get cocky on me now, beautiful.”

“Where’d you learn how to play?” Scylla asks out of curiosity as they turn their attention back to the console.

“My mom and dad used to give me spare quarters on laundry days and I’d run across the street to an old antique shop and decide if I wanted questionably old gumballs or a couple games of Street Fighter on this big clunky machine that they had.” Raelle muses while she cycles through the screen and claims Cammy before Scylla can. “After one really gross gumball, I ended up spending hours on the machine. Every time we did laundry. That’s where I’d be until they came to collect me. At least until some rich collector came along and bought it.”

“That’s… really cute, actually.” Scylla chances a glance over to see the light from the screen illuminate Raelle’s face.

For a second, she can almost picture a younger Raelle, occupying her free time with a video game and what little spare change her parents had. Happy, carefree, devoid of all the stress and sorrow that weighs on her now.

“If you don’t stop looking at me, I’m going to take advantage of you being distracted and win.” Raelle says without taking her eyes off the screen, but Scylla can see the playfulness in her smile and—

Oh, she’s fucked.

And of course, of course, Raelle chooses then to turn and just look at her. It’s a simple calm smile and relaxed gaze, but it hits Scylla right in her core. As if Raelle knows how she’s feeling. As if she’s saying, yeah, me too.

They end up playing games and goofing around until some underpaid and tired teenager announces that the mall’s closing in an hour.

“Oh, is that the clock striking midnight?” Scylla sighs dramatically, though there is real sadness that pings in her at the thought of having to leave this day behind.

Raelle plays along, frowning to herself and throwing her arm over her eyes, “Oh, woe is me—for my heart cannot bear the thought of returning to our conscription. I ask of thee,” she drops to a knee and takes Scylla’s hand in her own, “run away with me? We can live behind the mall and eat food court leftovers and spend every day like today.”

Scylla laughs, full and unrestricted at the dramatics and helps Raelle back on her feet before pushing herself into Raelle. “You’re being silly. Where would we shower?”

“I thought you liked it dirty.” Raelle wiggles her eyebrows and Scylla has to resist the urge to push her face away from her.

“Let’s go catch the bus before we miss it and have to walk all the way back to base.”

xx

She doesn’t realize how tired she is until she sits down on the bus. Her muscles almost sigh in relief when she relaxes, slumping into Raelle’s jacket and turning to hug Raelle’s arm in an attempt to gather warmth after having stood in the chilly spring evening air.

There’s a bone-deep comfort and satisfaction that comes from being this close to Raelle, feeling the way they’re pressed together. She smells like a mixture of fresh laundry and that apple-scented shampoo from the commissary with a hint of sweat and something else that Scylla can only think of describing as soft . It makes her press her face tighter against Raelle’s shoulder, rubbing her nose against the fabric of the shirt.

“So are you just going to claim my arm? Take it home?” Raelle jokes, raising her free hand ( warm, so fucking warm ) to Scylla’s face to push some stray hairs out of the way.

Scylla hums contentedly. “Maybe. Could have uses. Could use a reanimation seed to turn it into a grabber tool.”

“Is that a real thing?”

“Mm, can’t tell you. Would have to kill you.” Scylla jokes, lifting their interlocked hands to look at Raelle’s. “You do have really nice hands though.”

There’s something that the overwhelming quality of peace and quiet does to Scylla. The blanket of calm that’s draped over this moment in time for the two of them. She’s swaddled in Raelle’s favorite jacket, sitting by the only real thing she knows.

The only real thing she has left and it’s not even really hers.

Raelle blushes gently, a gorgeous shade of pink flaring up on her cheeks. She gently tugs at their hands, trying to get Scylla to let go. “Stop it.”

But Scylla holds tight and brings Raelle’s hand to her lips and presses a sweet kiss there before releasing the laced grasp to spread Raelle’s fist into a palm, pressing small kisses along each joint.

She wants to make Raelle hers.

“They’re really nice.” She smirks against the pads of Raelle’s fingers, brushing her lips against them. “Love the way they fit in me.”

The pleasant shade of pink that Raelle was goes into a deep hue of magenta and Scylla can’t help the small laugh that escapes from her.

“ Scylla… ”

“I can’t wait to feel how that compares, though.” Her gaze drops to Raelle’s lap as she teasingly nips at the tip of Raelle’s middle finger.

It’s like flipping a switch.

Raelle’s composure slips and she pulls her hand free from Scylla’s grasp to gently take her chin between her thumb and index finger, forcing Scylla’s eyes to hers. She can visibly see Raelle’s mood shift.

“You’re playing with fire.”

“Who doesn’t love a little heat?”

Raelle licks her lips and it takes every ounce of willpower for Scylla not to mirror the action. “You’re in for so fucking much when we get back to base.”

“Promise?”

xx

Sneaking back on base is slightly more difficult than sneaking off base, especially at night. But they manage it just fine, even if Scylla spends half of their attempt making things harder by pressing Raelle into dark corners of the buildings that they’re using for cover just to kiss her until they’re both relying on the wall to keep them upright.

They crash against the outside of Scylla’s door, attached at the lips and fruitlessly holding onto each other, hands stuck between wanting to hold and needing to touch and explore.

Every fiber that makes up the entirety of Scylla’s being just wants Raelle—every part, every molecule, every single bit of her that she can take. So, she parts her lips slightly and Raelle takes the bait without hesitation, running her tongue across Scylla’s top lip and flicking it inside, just a little—asking kindly for a bit more.

Scylla lets out a shaky exhale that falls from her lips as she gives Raelle what she wants, opening her mouth enough for Raelle to push closer and deepen the kiss. It’s heavy and slick and Scylla thinks she might be getting a tiny bit drunk from the way Raelle’s hands are pulling at her hips so there’s not a single centimeter of space left between them.

The kiss is messy and wet as Raelle licks inside her mouth, before sucking and biting gently at Scylla’s lip, releasing it with a soft pop .

Scylla can’t stop the tiny noises from escaping her, small gasps and moans slipping unbidden past her lips as Raelle slots her hips just so and she can feel the object of her desire press against her.

She can’t stop the instinctual jog of her hips against the outline of the strap and almost cries when Raelle pulls away. She even tries to chase and follow Raelle’s lips, being stopped only because Raelle’s hands are pinning her hips to the wall.

“We should go inside.” Raelle whispers, lips red and puffy.

Scylla kind of wishes her brain would stop leaking out of her ears for a second just so she can remember how to open the door, but she nods and turns around to try anyway.

She fumbles in her pocket for the key and is trying to get the door open. Trying being the operative word because Raelle is standing right behind her, arms wrapped around her middle and pressing the sweetest, slowest, wettest kisses to her neck.

“You look so fucking good in my jacket, Scyl.” Raelle husks against her ear and Scylla can hear the smirk in her voice. “Wanna see you wearing my clothes.”

Fuck, she almost drops the key and has to close her eyes and rest her head against the door, heaving a deep breath to still the shaking of her hands.

“Or, you know, wearing nothing at all.” Raelle says, dragging her hands down to Scylla’s thighs and slipping up her dress just a little while scraping her teeth along her neck.

Scylla has to count to ten in her head in order to successfully slip the key into the door and unlock it.

In seconds, she and Raelle are tumbling through the entryway. She’s barely aware of her surroundings before Raelle’s pulling her back in again, shutting the door and pressing her up against it.

“Baby, the bed…” Scylla tries, fingers gripping into the soft fabric of Raelle’s shirt. “Fuck, that feels good.”

Raelle’s doing this thing where one of her thighs is slipped between Scylla’s and she’s applying just the right amount of pressure to make Scylla want to grind. So she tries; she cants her hips up perfectly and catches the outline of the toy under Raelle’s jeans, just barely grazing her clit against it through their clothes. It’s like touching the sun, the way it sends licks of heat up her spine. It’s so delicious that she can’t do anything other than continue to grind, but Raelle’s hands press tight against her hips and pin them down, holding her in place and keeping her from getting what she wants. She’s stuck just arching herself into Raelle and clinging to her, giving pathetic little jogs of her hip out of desperation.

All the while, Raelle’s mouth is hard at work against her throat; lips wet and warm against her pulse point as Raelle sucks a deep and pretty bruise where her pulse is.

The moan that tumbles from Scylla is almost shameful.

It’s getting harder to keep her eyes open and all she wants to do is let her knees give out so they’re on the ground and she can focus less on not falling and more on Raelle’s hands and lips and eyes. But Raelle’s keeping them upright, pressing so sweetly against her and trailing a line of kisses underneath her jaw.

She can’t help but remember the first time they were in this position, only a few feet away from where they are now, pressed to the wall by the mirror.

She came so fast.

Raelle’s effect on her has always been maddening. She makes Scylla lose her grip on anything sensible, on all her ideals and wants and desires; because when Raelle presses into her like this, all greedy kisses and hot pants, all Scylla really wants is Raelle.

It’s been weeks. Weeks of this repeating dance. Weeks of Scylla knowing she has a job to do, an end goal to meet. Weeks of her getting less and less interested in the Spree’s fascination with Raelle and more focused on the way Raelle’s smile made her feel like everything’s going to end up okay.

But the thrill of having Raelle need her like this isn’t any less intense than it was the first night. In fact, Scylla swears it’s more intense; this connection between them far stronger and deeper than it was when it was only simple physical attraction.

Now, only a few months later and not even ten feet away from where Scylla had been so sure that she’d succeed in luring Raelle in, Scylla’s pretty sure Raelle’s the one that trapped her instead.

Raelle’s hands clench harder against her sides, fingers pressing hard through the fabric of Scylla’s dress to draw a sinful gasp from Scylla. It’s a high and whiny sound that fades into the rest of the room and makes both of them dizzy with want.

She might come from the friction of Raelle’s thigh against her alone.

“You make the prettiest noises.” Raelle smiles against her throat, giving it a small nip. “Wanna hear more.”

Before Scylla can gather any of the brain cells rattling around in her head to form a reply, she’s being flipped—her front pressed against the door with the delicious pressure and warmth of Raelle held to her back.

Fuck .

“So beautiful.” Raelle breathes against her ear, hands busying themselves with taking her jacket off of Scylla and tossing it somewhere into the room.

Then she presses the smallest kisses to Scylla’s shoulders, tangling a hand in her hair to push it out of the way so she can kiss the back of Scylla’s neck; it’s so soft, so fucking tender that Scylla’s about to cry from the overwhelming amount of love and desire swirling inside her.

Scylla wants it to always be like this. She wants to remember the way Raelle feels pressed against her, skin against skin, soft lips and gentle kisses. But that’s not enough. She wants to burn Raelle into her so that she can’t ever forget that way this feels—even if they’re pulled apart and forced away from each other. Even if her bad choices cost her the most important thing in her life.

Scylla wants this to be permanent.

“ Raelle ,” she pants against the door, breath hot enough to cause a puff of condensation against the wood, “need it hard.”

She can feel the wicked smile against her shoulder. “Yeah?”

“ Please?” Scylla feels like she’s on the verge of tears. “I wanna feel you for days afterwards.”

And then there’s that pressure again, the distinct outline pressing against her ass while Raelle’s hand tightens in her hair and pulls with enough force to make her arch into the wall and press her ass tighter against Raelle’s hips.

“Baby, you’re so good for me.” Raelle whispers against the shell of her ear, one of her hands abandoning its grip on Scylla’s hip to hike up her dress. Cold fingers slip against the warm skin of her thigh to dance teasingly at the edge of her underwear.

Scylla presses her forehead against the surface of the door and keens when Raelle’s fingers finally relent and slide down. It’s then that Scylla registers just how fucking wet she is.

Like, so wet that Raelle’s hand is coated in seconds; wet enough that she can feel the way her thighs slip together when she adjusts to give Raelle more space to work. So wet that the moment Raelle’s fingers make contact with her clit, it feels like a live wire running from her clit to the base of her skull.

She immediately tries to bring a hand to Raelle’s hip, pulling her closer; tighter out of instinct. But Raelle’s hand – the one that’s not sliding wickedly against her clit – pushes her hand away, pins it back to the wall and holds it there.

“Not so fast, soldier. It’s my turn to play right now.”

She’s not sure if she’s imagining the way she instinctively clenches around nothing, but she definitely presses her face into the door and whimpers miserably. “Raelle, please. ”

There’s no response, only the painfully slow slide of Raelle’s fingers against her clit and Scylla curses against the wood grain. Two calloused fingertips tease her, grazing her clit one final time while sliding down to just barely dip into her.

Scylla’s not even ashamed to admit that she might be on the edge of the world’s quickest orgasm when Raelle’s hand suddenly withdraws and she’s left humping against nothing.

Raelle Collar is the biggest tease in the universe and Scylla might just kill her for it.

With a frustrated groan, Scylla prepares to force her way back around and take what she wants, but then there are fingers in her mouth—wet and salty and sticky. She subconsciously moans around the digits in her mouth, feeling the way the pads of Raelle’s fingers drag across her tongue; the way Raelle pushes deep enough to almost curl down her throat.

She can’t help her eyes from fluttering closed, lips wrapping around Raelle’s fingers and taking them as deep as she can, sucking prettily. She counts it as a reward that her wrist is freed again so that Raelle can pull their hips together and grind at a torturously slow speed.

To be fair, if she could die from frustration, this wouldn’t be the worst way to go.

Thankfully, Raelle takes pity on her and pulls her hand from her mouth to slide the newly spit-slicked fingers back down into Scylla’s center. It’s barely seconds but it feels like hours to Scylla before Raelle’s two fingers deep and the combination of that and the feeling of the strap pressed to her ass makes Scylla shake in Raelle’s arms.

It’s like she’s being held over the edge of the world by a thread.

“Not yet, Scylla.” Raelle whispers against her shoulder, laying gentle kisses while rocking firmly against her.

But she’s so close and she swears that she’s a few deep presses away from clenching so nicely, so well for Raelle that—

A sharp sting overtakes her ass at the same time a loud clap echoes throughout the room and she gasps, choking at the pleasurable pain that radiates from the spank.

For a second, Scylla’s brain blanks on everything except the image of her bent against a wall, dress hiked up around her hips and ass red from Raelle’s ministrations. The idea alone makes her squeeze tightly around Raelle’s stilled fingers.

And then there’s another slap and her hips instinctively try to squirm away from the pain, but she’s panting into her own arms, shaking out of exertion.

“I said,” a hard bite to the crook of her neck, “not yet.”

Raelle nudges her nose against the side of Scylla’s face and she turns on command, half-lidded eyes searching for Raelle’s face in the darkness of the room. The feeling of Raelle’s breath against her face makes her smile, the soft brushing of their lips together makes her break out into a wide grin that lasts for as long as it takes Raelle to teasingly kiss her—just barely gliding her lips over Scylla’s

If Scylla could get her vocal cords to work, she’d ask when . Except she doesn’t have the chance, because Raelle’s suddenly detaching from her and her voice urges itself out from her throat in the form of a needy whine.

Another spank follows her complaint and she has to bite her own fist to muffle the noise she makes. It works well, until she feels Raelle pull her underwear to the side to lick a broad wet stripe across her cunt. The resulting moan is a little too loud to hide.

“Fuck!” Scylla keens, hands gripping at the door, looking for something to keep her from collapsing into a pile at Raelle’s feet.

Raelle’s kissing everywhere but where Scylla needs her. She’s licking and biting her thighs, pressing soothing kisses and running warm palms over her reddened ass.

It’s driving her insane.

“Raelle, please fuck me?” She can barely recognize her own voice, high and pleading. “I need you. Need your mouth.”

“I’m just getting you ready, Scyl.” Raelle’s voice is cocky and teasing, there’s this playful lilt that makes Scylla flood with even more heat. “Have to make sure you’re wet enough for what’s coming.”

“Don’t care, plenty ready.” Scylla pleads. “Please, just want— fuck!”

Raelle’s mouth is on her, firm and resolute and molten in its heat; broad licks that turn into focused flicks against her clit. Scylla’s eyes lose focus and she can’t stop the way her hips push against the pleasure, grinding on Raelle’s tongue like her life depends on it.

There’s a fire that spreads from her clit to the very tips of her fingers. She’s whimpering into her hand, eyes squeezed shut as she tries to remember what Raelle’s eyes look like because that’s one of her favorite things about riding Raelle’s face: looking down and seeing sky-blue eyes watch her come undone.

It’s embarrassing how fast she comes at the image in her mind. Her hands claw against the wood of the door while her hips spasm as she cries into the open air of her dorm room. She clenches around nothing and mourns the feeling of Raelle’s fingers in her, tries to remember how they like to curl and draw out her orgasm. It’s not the same, but she’s pretty sure the way Raelle licks and sucks at her clit while she rides out her high is the closest to heaven that she’ll ever get.

She only realizes Raelle’s mouth has left her when she feels Raelle moving behind her, standing up and smoothing a hand up her spine. It incites shivers that almost make her slip and lose her footing because Scylla’s legs are a little out of commission at the moment.

“So good,” Raelle praises, murmuring against her shoulder. “So gorgeous.”

It feels nice to be complimented, praised, loved like Raelle loves her. Even nicer is the way Raelle gently turns her around, pressing her against the door and keeping her upright while she leans in to kiss her.

Deep, slow, and wet. Scylla can taste herself on Raelle’s tongue and can only moan in reaction. Raelle groans in response, bringing a hand up to cradle her face and run her thumb across her jawline.

It’s a slow connect, but something tight begins to wind its way around them—an invisible energy that intertwines itself between them and pulls tight. Suddenly she can feel Raelle. Not just physically but emotionally .

Scylla should be more careful about linking with Raelle, she vaguely remembers.

But then Raelle’s jogging her hips gently against her again and Scylla forgets about every single cautionary measure that she’s ever been taught to take.

The only thing she’s focused on is the way she can feel Raelle’s desire for her. It’s a golden rope that ties its way around them, heated and rough. It feels like raw untamed want and Scylla’s intoxicated by it.

She melts into the kiss for a while, enjoying the way Raelle’s tongue slips along hers, so determined to memorize each little aspect of Scylla’s reactions to her kisses that she gets lost in the motion of it all.

Raelle kisses with so much passion, all tongue and teeth, pushing and pulling with a perfect pace that makes Scylla weak all over. It plants a warmth deep in her heart that aches in the best sort of way.

Scylla can also feel the coil in her stomach tightening again when Raelle gives a small hump against her at the same time her tongue flicks against her teeth. And suddenly she has a brand new kind of desire settling in her core.

It takes an absurd amount of will, but Scylla manages to pull away though Raelle tries to follow. She groans at the wet string of spit the snaps between their mouths and has to muster every bit of self-control to press her hands on Raelle’s shoulders and force her to swap positions, moving so that Raelle’s back is pressed to the door and Scylla’s leaned against her.

They’re both breathing heavy; Scylla can feel the way Raelle’s chest is rising and falling in an attempt to drink in as much fresh air as possible.

Just as Raelle’s about to lift a hand to pull Scylla back into a kiss, Scylla ducks her head to kiss Raelle’s jaw, trailing more kisses down her neck and clavicle while she tries to get Raelle out of her shirt.

Her hands are shaking, but she manages to safely undo each button on Raelle’s shirt without giving into her impatience and ripping it off of her completely. Meanwhile, Raelle’s pressing the sweetest of kisses to her hair, hands running smoothly through it, fixing the mess she made earlier when she’d pulled on it.

Scylla hums in comfort, turning back to face Raelle and rewarding her patience with the sweetest of kisses, slow and wet.

Then she’s moving again, planting kisses along Raelle’s jaw, throat, lower and lower until she’s face to face with the outline of the strap-on in Raelle’s jeans. There’s a tell-tale wet spot from where Scylla had humped earlier and just seeing it is enough to pull a small breathy moan from her.

Who in their right mind could blame her for pushing in to kiss the strap through Raelle’s jeans? Especially when Raelle lets out a low groan at the sight, one hand immediately moving to thread itself into Scylla’s hair.

Scylla smirks against the wet fabric and gives it a small lick, all while looking up at Raelle.

The link stretches beautifully, running itself tight against her heart. She hums in approval, pressing open-mouth kisses along the distended fabric while her hands work to undo Raelle’s belt; glad to know that the visual is enough to get Raelle riled up.

She slips Raelle’s pants down her hips and halfway down her thighs before coming face to face with the thing that’s occupied her mind for so long. Something in her swells with affection at the fact that it’s this gorgeous shade of sapphire blue.

Scylla’s mouth starts salivating the moment she sees it. She can feel her heartbeat in every part of her body.

There’s a sharp throb of want that echoes through her; she can tell that Raelle feels it through the link because her hips twitch and the eight inches of dark blue silicone sways gently.

When Scylla’s tongue darts out to try and catch it, she feels the hand in her hair flex and tighten carefully. It pulls a small moan from her lips and she leans in close to run her lips against the toy, opening her mouth to take the tip between her lips. She brings her hands up to grip Raelle’s thighs.

Raelle intakes a gulp of breath loudly enough that it’s the only thing that fills Scylla’s ears. Her hand flexes and Scylla takes it as a sign to take more.

So, she does—she moans around the silicone and presses closer, swallowing around the three inches that she manages to take in her mouth.

It’s like being set on actual fire, looking up at Raelle and seeing a sex-drunk haze over her face, feeling the effort that it’s taking for Raelle not to fuck her mouth through their link. The trouble is, she wants to feel Raelle in her throat.

She wants to feel absolutely used and claimed; she wants to see Raelle lose grip of that finely tuned control that she always holds onto, that shield of snark and sarcasm.

Plus, there’s something extra addicting about the way Raelle’s eyes shine when the toy hits the back of Scylla’s throat. The way she can’t resist twitching her hips a little bit, fucking gently into Scylla’s mouth.

And fuck , does it feel good.

So good that Scylla groans around the silicone and pulls a couple of inches off just to slide back down in order to earn another small twitch.

The way Raelle’s looking at her makes her want to spread herself wide open for her—give every part of herself to the other girl just to prove a point. Just to say, hey I’m all yours now, do what you want with me.

She knows Raelle feels that through the link because she growls lowly and, instead of twitching, presses her hips forward, forcing the length further down Scylla’s throat.

“Y’look so good like this,” Raelle pants, repeating the action. “Such a needy girl. So good for me.”

That pulls out a loud moan from Scylla—she can feel the responding throb between her legs. She wants to prove just how good of a girl she can be, how much she wants Raelle and wants to be good for her.

Fuck, she wants to be so good for her.

The strap presses deeper with every slow thrust of Raelle’s hips until Scylla’s nose is pressed against Raelle’s stomach and she’s swallowing neatly around the toy in order to control her gag reflex.

“Shit, Scylla, holy fuck.” Raelle’s gasping because Scylla’s pressing hard enough against the strap that the base is rubbing against her clit and every wave of pleasure causes her to cant her hips and fuck into Scylla’s mouth.

Scylla hums contentedly around the warm silicone, bobbing her head in a ready rhythm to Raelle’s hips until she hears an uncharacteristic whine from above her. Her jaw is aching and there’s saliva running down her chin and staining her dress, but the look on Raelle’s face is worth every single iota of discomfort in her body.

It’s clear how close Raelle is to coming, her hips are stuttering out of pattern and her breathing is ragged. There’s a part of Scylla that beams with pride because she’s the reason for that. She’s the one that’s going to make Raelle Collar come without even really touching her.

She doubles down on her efforts, slowing only to make sure Raelle’s watching her as she brings a hand to her own underwear and comes back with a palmful of wetness that she smears along the length of the strap-on, running her fist along the section that she’s not sucking off.

Raelle lets out a long, whimpering moan and Scylla doubles her speed, pressing hard against the base of the toy every time it slides into her throat. She can feel the link twisting and pulling, communicating Raelle’s pleasure by sending hard drops of joy into her own stomach until—

Raelle falls silent, neck stretched and head tilted back in a silent scream. Her hips jerk up hard and force the last bit of the toy into Scylla’s throat; her hand tightens in Scylla’s hair as she comes with a choked moan.

The link coils and burns and burns and burns. Scylla can feel it in her own stomach; can feel the ecstasy running through Raelle’s body as if it were in her own veins. It pushes her to keep going—to keep drawing this blissful feeling out for as long as she can.

There’s a long gap of time, where Scylla’s patiently swallowing around the toy, eyes watching as Raelle comes down, hips twitching every so often while her head stays locked, tilted back against the door.

She looks so fucking pretty like this.

When her hips stop twitching and her breath returns to normal, Scylla pulls off the toy with ease and presses a soft kiss to Raelle’s tummy, right between the edge of the harness and her belly button. The smile she gets in return is so warm and loving that Scylla thinks she might be falling in love.

Fuck.

She is falling in love.

Raelle must sense something about that thought in the link, because she’s pulling Scylla up to her feet and into her arms, pressing sweet, sweet kisses all along her jaw until she gets to her mouth.

They kiss for several long moments, and when they separate, a messy strand of spit snaps between them.

“I didn’t think I could… come from that.” She laughs gently, hands fisted into Scylla’s dress.

Scylla preens happily, rubbing her spit-soaked face against Raelle’s shirt and smiling. “Mm, love that I could make you do that.”

“C’mere.” Raelle murmurs, turning them again so Scylla’s back is against the door.

Her kisses are soft to start, smooth and calming. But then she nips teasingly at Scylla’s bottom lip while lifting Scylla’s leg up to wrap around her hip with one hand and maneuvering the strap with the other.

And—

Oh.

Scylla’s breath comes in heavy pants, desperate for oxygen in a room that suddenly seems incredibly devoid of it.

She’s so wet for Raelle; so slick that she swears she’s dripping down her thighs.

Raelle’s just smiling at her, as if her hand wasn’t currently guiding the strap to slide against Scylla’s cunt, spreading her and coating the spit-slicked toy with her wetness.

“Rae, please .” The nickname escapes her easily, even though she knows names have power and this is as good as giving up any control she might’ve still had over her heart.

What scares her most is how okay she is with it.

She can only gasp when Raelle angles the strap and presses in slowly, leaving kisses all the while. She sinks in unhurried, watching Scylla all the while; watches how Scylla’s head tilts back and jaw drops open in a quiet moan; watches how her eyes flutter closed at the feeling of being stretched open by the toy.

The whimper that escapes Scylla is borderline sinful.

It somehow feels even bigger than it did when she was taking it in her mouth, each inch of the toy stretching her deliciously wider for Raelle.

Scylla’s shaking, tense and frozen, only being kept up by Raelle’s strength.

Of course, Raelle can’t help but nudge her hips forward a little, fucking a little bit more of the strap into her and pulling a shocked gasp.

“Sorry.” She has the audacity to smirk against Scylla’s jaw and press an innocent little kiss to it.  “Can feel it. Wanna make you feel good. Wanna make you feel me for days.”

Their link roars in flames.

Scylla lets out a long moan and nods her head because, yeah, yeah that sounds so fucking good.

“Ready, baby?” Raelle mutters, laying sweet kisses along Scylla’s shoulder even though she can’t feel anything other than how fucking filled she is.

She’s insensate, too far gone to feel anything other than the way she clenches around the stationary toy.

Raelle tries again, pressing her nose to Scylla’s jaw, “Scyl? I’m gonna need a green light.”

It takes her a second to remember how to speak, but Scylla nods through the fog. “Mm, green. Go. Please?”

Raelle nods, smiling easily before pulling out until barely the tip is in Scylla before slamming back in.

The hazy fog clears and all Scylla sees are stars.

“ Fuck ,” Raelle curses again, breathing suddenly labored from the sensations that are blasting through their link. “I can, holy shit— I can feel you, Scyl.”

Scylla wishes she could reply, wishes she knew how to form words because yeah , she can feel Raelle too. She can feel the desperate need that Raelle has for her; the determination and fondness in her heart.

It’s enough to make her eyes roll back as Raelle thrusts into her. The most she can do to communicate how much she enjoys it is reach up to one of the hands Raelle’s using to brace against the wall and wrap her hand around her wrist. Her original plan was to take Raelle’s fingers into her mouth again, but she stutters and freezes, seduction forgotten when Raelle jerks so neatly into her that her clit rubs against the base of the harness.

Scylla honestly doesn’t know how long she can remain standing—her legs are shaking and she can feel Raelle’s muscles burning too, losing their ability to keep the two of them upright.

As if Raelle’s reading her mind, she bends down slightly just to hook her hands around Scylla’s knees and lifts her up, forcing Scylla to wrap her legs around Raelle’s hips to keep from falling on her ass.

It’s four quick strides to Scylla’s bed and then she’s being tossed onto it like a ragdoll. The disconnect from the strap makes her cry out in dismay, and she squirms with need, hands reaching out and trying to pull Raelle closer.

Raelle, however, is just smiling down at her; slowly discarding her shirt and bra before pressing closer to Scylla, sliding between her thighs and pulling upwards at the hem of her dress to try and take it off.

After a minute of struggling because all she wants is Raelle in her—fuck the clothes they can work around them, Scylla’s naked and staring up at the most beautiful woman she’s ever seen in her life.

She feels lucky for the first time in her life.

“Mmm, what’re you thinkin’ ‘bout?” Raelle whispers, leaning down to run her nose across Scylla’s jaw while she presses light kisses to the column of her throat, focusing on the little beauty mark on the left side of her neck.

Scylla intakes a shaky breath, hands reaching up to hold Raelle’s hips.

“Thinking about how much I liked the stretch.” She smiles at the way Raelle freezes, lips parted and panting against her throat. “About how much I loved feeling you thrust into me.”

Raelle groans, opening her mouth and lightly biting Scylla’s throat as she lowers her hips enough to grind the toy against Scylla, spreading her and sliding the soaked silicone along her cunt.

It’s torturous and heavenly.

The tip of the toy bumps against her clit and she arches into Raelle, back lifting off the bed with a high moan as she tries to hump neatly against it to recreate the feeling.

It’s not enough.

Scylla huffs in frustration and grips Raelle’s hips, scrambling for every remaining ounce of strength in her body to flip them around with a grunt.

Raelle looks even prettier underneath her; feels even better this way, too.

Immediately, Raelle’s hands are on her hips, gripping tightly while she grinds slowly along the strap, gravity becoming her new best friend as she presses hard every time the tip passes her clit.

“You’re so fucking wet.” There’s disbelief in Raelle’s voice and when Scylla’s gaze drops down to look at where they’re joined, she’s also a little taken aback at just how soaked and puffy she is; her clit’s noticeably swollen, red and stiff against the silicone.

It’s dirty and debauched and so fucking good that all she can do is lean down and take Raelle’s lips between hers in a wet kiss.

Minutes pass until she can feel Raelle getting impatient, fingers pressing and scraping down Scylla’s back. It’s then that she sits up and lifts her hips to angle the strap properly and slides down onto it in one smooth motion.

The new angle is incredible. The toy’s gentle curve hits that spot inside her perfectly and it’s all she can do not to cry out in pleasure.

“God, Scylla—” Raelle moans, hips bucking upward prematurely and causing a jolt of electricity to shoot up their spines.

Nobody’s ever filled her quite like this before.

The thought alone makes her salivate.

It only takes a second of adjusting to the angle and stretch before Scylla’s properly riding Raelle, head thrown back and throat exposed while her hands are splayed against Raelle’s stomach to keep herself up. The fire that’s been smoldering inside her flares in a mix of gratification and rhapsody.

Each downward thrust comes harder than the next and the room is filled with the echoing sounds of skin meeting skin and desperate moans as Scylla revels in the feeling of the deep stretch.

At one point, Scylla has to freeze, hovering with just the tip of the toy in her, muscles all tensed and quivering because she’s so fucking close but she refuses to come just yet. She can feel that Raelle still has a tiny bit to go and she needs them to come together.

She’s gasping, hand scrambling to find Raelle’s somewhere in the dark. When she does, she brings it to her mouth and dutifully takes two fingers in easily, letting Raelle rub against her tongue with no resistance.

Raelle only groans heatedly, hips trying to nudge deeper only to be held down by Scylla’s other hand.

“Baby, what are you doing?” She whimpers, too turned on to find the strength to properly thrust upwards like this.

Scylla chooses not to speak.

Instead, she makes sure Raelle’s fingers are well-coated in her spit before guiding it down to her breasts and helping Raelle’s fingers pinch.

The resulting shock to their link causes Raelle’s hips to slam upwards at the same time Scylla’s muscles give out and she comes crashing downwards.

“ Ah !” Scylla wails as Raelle’s hand takes over on its own, twisting neatly at her nipple.

The flames are licking higher in her stomach now, threatening to burst out at any moment. So she keeps chasing it.

She lets go of Raelle’s hand to rub clumsily at her clit and the effect is immediate between both of them. Raelle abandons Scylla’s breasts and for a second, Scylla considers killing her. But then both her hands are on Scylla’s hips and her legs are bent and she’s using the leverage to slam up into her with a force that can only be described as euphoric.

“God, Scyl, you look so good.” Raelle pants, sitting up with ease, abs tensing under Scylla’s hands.

There’s a wet heat that envelopes her nipple and Raelle’s suddenly pressed against her.

Scylla whimpers into Raelle’s hair, free hand reaching up to wrap itself around Raelle’s shoulders while the other hand works frantically at her clit.

“R- aelle ,” she gasps, choking on nothing and clenching tightly around the silicone, drawing a sharp cry from Raelle who feels it through the link. “Gonna—”

Raelle’s efforts double and she slaps Scylla’s hand away to replace it with her own and oh—

It’s like she knows exactly what Scylla needs.

Because the pressure’s perfect and the circles are so neat that Scylla can taste ozone in the air with how high she is right now.

Raelle bites down on her nipple and moans against her breast, pulling away to look up at Scylla and thread a hand through her hair, helping Scylla’s head keep from lolling back lazily.

“So fucking beautiful. All fucking mine.” She husks, watching Scylla ride her.

“Yours!” Scylla relents, her brain too scrambled to understand what she’s admitting to.

But she can feel Raelle’s trust. More than that, there’s joy and hope flowing to her through the link. Beautiful golden strands of pure emotion flooding into her from Raelle. When she hazards a bleary glance at Raelle’s face, the coil tightens and burns hotter.

Night has taken over the sky blue of Raelle’s eyes and her face is flushed in sweat, lust, and pure unadulterated reverence.

Scylla doesn’t know if she wants to cry out of joy or sorrow, so she lets out a choked gasp of pleasure instead.

“Tell me what you need, Scyl.” Raelle pants against her collarbone. “Tell me what you need and I’ll give it to you.”

“ Shit .” Scylla weeps, face red and mind scrambled. “Behind. Want it from behind.”

It happens in a flash, one minute she’s in Raelle lap and the next she’s being thrown front-first onto the mattress while Raelle scrambles to get behind her.

Then, in one beautiful rough push, Raelle’s slotted into her from behind and it takes every ounce of control not to just scream .

“Shit,” Raelle’s hips still and her hands are on Scylla’s waist gently, “Fuck, sorry, got excited, are you okay?”

Her thighs shake and she babbles for a second, trying to form words to express what she’s feeling beyond the need to be fucked so hard she can’t breathe.

“Scylla, I need words.” Raelle presses, still too fucking motionless .

Scylla nods hurriedly into the pillow, whimpering. “Yes, yes, it’s so good, I’m okay. Please , pleasepleaseplease. Fuck me.”

“Green?”

“ Raelle! Yes! Green! Please! ”

Then the strap-on is shifting inside of her, rubbing so beautifully at the new angle that Scylla can’t help but choke on her own spit.

Raelle slides out easily and slams in with enough force to scoot the frame of the bed forward an inch and Scylla’s eyes roll back so hard she thinks she sees god for a second.

The pace that Raelle sets is punishing. It’s rough and unrelenting enough that Raelle has to bring one of her hands up to Scylla’s shoulder to keep her from shifting away. She can feel herself dripping down the strap, her wetness slicking her thighs as Raelle makes her see stars.

“M’close,” Raelle breathes against her ear and Scylla almost laughs at the call-back.

The memory of riding Raelle’s fingers and telling her how much she’d like to be fucked with a strap-on.

Of course Raelle would go out and get them one.

Raelle Collar, so fucking sweet and charming and giving.

“Come with me, Scyl.”

It’s like her body understands the command because her entire body tightens and, “Yes, yes, fuck. More—please, more.”

Raelle presses her front against Scylla’s back and brings a hand down to her clit, rubbing those perfect little circles again and slamming her hips home.

“Baby, please, wanna feel you come around m— ah !”

Liquid rapture, pure bliss floods Scylla as her hips desperately push back to get deeper, to press closer, draw more from Raelle who has gone still behind her, just as tense and shaking.

Her vision goes foggy and everything’s white for what feels like hours. She feels herself clench and pulse around the length buried inside her, wetness dripping from around the toy.

Then there’s the feeling of Raelle behind her, having lost her ability to stay upright, she’s leaned against Scylla’s back, quivering in the middle of her own orgasm.

And she can feel it through the link. She can feel how hard Raelle’s spasming around nothing; the heat of her cunt in the harness, clit pressing so neatly against the insert.

It’s so much that it throws her into another wave of bliss, which in return pulls Raelle along into another orgasm as well. It’s like a feedback loop—their pleasure echoing off of each other again and again. Each wave feeding off the feeling of each other hitting their peak.

In the end, Scylla loses track of how many times she comes. All she knows is that when she’s done, she’s flat on her stomach with Raelle pressed against her back on top of her, mumbling nonsense into her skin in the form of sweet whispers about how good she was.

“Mm, I can’t—” Scylla forces out a tired laugh, “I can’t feel my legs.”

“I can’t feel my body.” Raelle grumbles into her shoulder.

A flutter of adoration flips through Scylla’s stomach and she finds herself bathing in the afterglow in a way she’s never done before. She finds the word love rolling around in her mouth, weighing on her tongue like a piece of candy. Except where she expected bitterness, all she finds is a comforting sweetness that reverberates through her entire being.

It feels as natural and as easy as breathing, admitting – albeit alone and in her own mind – that she might love Raelle.

She wonders just when exactly her heart started winning over her head.

The moment she saw Raelle out in the storm range, maybe.

Five more minutes pass and Scylla’s about to fall asleep before she feels kisses being pressed down her spine with gentle fingers tracing random patterns across her skin.

“Mm, what are you doing?”

“Mapping you out. Memorizing you.” Comes the easy reply.

Scylla thinks her heart might explode.

So, she forces her tired muscles to move, to tense and contract around her bones and help flip herself over.

When she does, it’s to pin Raelle back down with a laugh.

“What’re you doing?”

Scylla shushes her and slides down her body, leaving a trail of wet kisses all the way down until she reaches the harness.

It’s a slightly more difficult task than she expected, but she manages to slip the toy off of Raelle after a minute, revealing a hot and wet mess.

She knows that Raelle’s spent when she says nothing about Scylla setting to work dutifully cleaning the mess they made with careful licks and kisses—the only thing that comes from Raelle’s lips are thankful and blissed-out hums of pleasure.

When she’s done, Scylla gently bites at the glowing witch mark on Raelle’s inner thigh before soothing it with a lick and smirk. “Shiny.”

“You should see yours.” Raelle gives a tiny chuckle, arm thrown over her face.

Scylla laughs with her, tossing the strap-on off the bed and climbing her way back up Raelle’s body to rest her head on the pillow beside her, arm flung over Raelle’s middle.

Raelle gives her the space, scooching over and maneuvering so they’re slotted comfortably against each other, staring at each other quietly and just smiling .

“Hey.” Raelle’s voice is raspy and gorgeous. It brings tingles up Scylla’s spine as her eyes flutter with exhaustion.

“Hi.” She manages to reply back, a big yawn stretching her jaw open.

Raelle’s looking at her with something she wishes she could understand. It cracks her chest open and makes her feel like her heart’s on open display.

Part of her wants to curl in on herself, throw up every single wall she’s ever known.

Another part of her wants to scoop what’s left of her heart up into her hands and just hand it over to the girl in front of her.

She leaves both halves to fight and chooses to instead focus on the small circles that Raelle’s tracing up and down her arms.

She lets herself imagine what this would be like if she gets to keep Raelle. They could live like this every day onwards.

“Today was… perfect. Best day I’ve had in awhile, I think.” Scylla smiles sleepily. “Thanks for not taking me into the woods and leaving me for the wild animals.”

It’s a weak attempt at expressing the complicated bundle of emotions in her chest, but it’s not a lie. It’s actually the closest that Scylla’s gotten to verbally expressing the truth.

Raelle’s laughter sounds like music.

The last thing she registers before dozing off is the feeling of Raelle chucking softly into her hair.

“Don’t worry Scyl, I’m never gonna leave you.”