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Set up in her usual spot in the parlour of Il Bastone on the floor next to the grand piano, instead of her laptop, books, and index cards full of notes for her dissertation, Pamela has a cloth spread out in front of her. On each side of the cloth is half a deck of cards. In her hands, she shuffles together the second half of each deck. As she does, she holds a specific question her mind. Once it feels right, Pamela opens her eyes back up and lays 10 cards out on the cloth in front of her in a Celtic cross spread.
“What’re you doing?” a soft voice says.
Standing in the doorway to the parlour is Mercy, arms wrapped around her middle. Pamela hasn’t known her long, and hasn’t really talked to her much, even less so since their last journey to hell. But she still knows that the mustard yellow turtleneck and the charcoal grey circle skirt with subtle white and matching yellow print is subtle by Mercy’s standards. Especially when combined with the haphazard way her chin-length black hair is pulled half up and the dark bags under her eyes that can’t be covered by the round, overlarge wireframe glasses.
Instead of answering Mercy’s question, what comes out when Pamela opens her mouth unbidden is, “I didn’t know you wore glasses.”
Mercy gives a half-hearted shrug as she sniffles a little. “I don’t, most of the time. But sometimes, like when I’m really tired, I need them to help my eyes focus.”
All Pamela can really think to say in response is a quiet “oh.”
Coming the rest of the way into the room, Mercy sits down across from Pamela, her legs folded beneath her. Toying with one of the folds in her skirt, she nods at the cards laid out on the cloth between them.
“This is tarot, right? Alex mentioned something before about how you’re writing your dissertation about it. I’ve always been curious about it, but I’ve never known anyone who read them,” Mercy says.
“Well,” Pamela hedges, rubbing at her nose with the edge of her sweater sleeve as she thinks over her answer; she’s not used to people asking genuine questions about her work. “This is actually a combination of tarot and oracle cards. Adding oracle cards to a tarot reading can help add clarity, give more in-depth insights.”
“Clarity sounds good right about now,” mutters Mercy.
Giving a half-smile, Pamela can’t help but agree. “Oracle cards are also good at helping you focus more on moving forward, whereas tarot cards have just as much of a chance of reading your past.”
Mercy hums, her head turned down slightly. She seems a lot quieter than when Pamela first met her. “I could use some help with moving forward,” she says, voice soft. “I thought talking to my priest would help, but…” She trails off with a shrug, looking up back up at Pamela with a small, tired smile that doesn’t quite seem to fit.
“But you can’t exactly say what’s wrong,” Pamela finishes for her. When Mercy nods, Pamela offers a tired smile of her own. “I know what you mean.”
~~~~
Mercy starts coming to Il Bastone more often. Sometimes, she’s there to help Pamela out with research and other homebase operations while Alex and Darlington are out working on corralling demons. (Pamela hadn’t realized how overworked she was until she had a helping hand around, and a highly competent one at that.) Other times, she’s there for the company; the two of the sit in the parlour, Mercy doing her readings or writing papers while Pamela continues working on her dissertation. (Body doubling had never really been an option for Pamela before, most people she knows being too weirded out by her tendency to hyperfocus on her work or current interest for hours on end, often forgetting about her other needs. But now, with Mercy there, Pamela is getting more work done in each sitting than she has in a long time.)
Mercy starts joining Pamela in the kitchen while she cooks for everyone, Pamela showing her all the tips and tricks she’s learned over years. It’s during these times, while they’re waiting for soup to boil and dough to rise, that the two of them start to really talk.
“How do you handle the guilt?” Mercy asks one day, her voice but a murmur, even though it’s just the two of them in the house.
Taking a deep breath, Pamela lets it out slowly as she gives the question serious thought. “I guess I try to focus on all the horrible things he did,” she responds, speaking in fits and starts, processing the answer as she gives it, “and on how, if I didn’t do what I did, more people would’ve gotten hurt or killed.”
“Like Alex,” adds Mercy.
“Like Alex,” Pamela agrees. “Even though she does things that stress me out a lot, and she makes me really angry sometimes, she’s still one of my closest friends. And she would do the same thing for me.”
“She saves us, we save her,” Mercy says softly.
“She saves us, we save her,” Pamela echoes.
~~~~
“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” Pamela gripes for the fourth time since she started driving half an hour ago, checking her blind spot before switching lanes. “What if something happens while we’re gone? What is Alex and Darlington need help?”
“Darlington and Alex can handle themselves,” Mercy retorts, scrolling on her phone for what she deemed the ‘perfect road trip playlist’, “and Turner is there if they do need any help. Besides, it’s only four hours away, and we’re only going to be gone for about a day.”
“But -”
“Relax, Mela,” Mercy interrupts her, looking up from her phone and placing a hand on Pamela’s right thigh. “We both deserve a little bit of a vacation, and the others agreed – especially when you said you’ve never actually gone anywhere on your spring recesses.”
The touch sends a shiver down Pamela’s spine, something that has been happening every single time Mercy has touched her casually these past few months, and that Pamela has been desperately trying to ignore. Combine that with the nickname that Mercy gave her, plus the way Pamela feels more like herself around Mercy than she has in a long time, and she is an absolute goner. She really hopes the shared hotel room Mercy booked has two beds.
Sighing because she knows she’s not going to win, Pamela places her hand on top of Mercy’s and admits, “I just hope it’s not too crowded.”
“Shouldn’t be, since we’re going in the middle of the week,” Mercy reassures her as she turns her hand over and twines her fingers with Pamela’s, giving it a firm squeeze. “Plus, not many people choose Hershey’s Chocolate World as their spring break destination.”
Pamela laughs. “What can I say? I love a good factory tour.”
“Same! I love learning how things are made,” Mercy gushes before making a noise of triumph. “There it is! I really should’ve given this playlist a better name.”
Over the car speakers a song starts playing: “You’ve got this strange effect on me / and I like it / You make my world seem right / You make my darkness bright / Oh yes. You’ve got this strange effect on me / and I like it.”
Swallowing thickly, Pamela becomes hyperaware of the fact that their hands are still clasped together, now resting on top of the center console.
“And I like the way you kiss me / Don’t know if I should / But this feelin’ is love, and I know / it’s why I feel good.”
Seemingly oblivious, Mercy sings along. Her thumb taps the back of Pamela’s hand to the beat of the music, her head turned to look out the passenger window. Pamela can’t even get a good look at her expression because Mercy is wearing those types of large sunglasses associated with old Hollywood starlets, though the lenses are a dark pink instead of the classic brown. (Not that Pamela has ever been able to read facial expressions.) The starlet look is added to by the brightly coloured silk floral scarf covering Mercy’s wavy collarbone-length hair, lending her a bit of a mysterious air that makes her even harder to read in this moment.
Fortunately, Pamela is granted a reprieve when the next song that plays is “Goo Goo Muck”, which Mercy starts dancing along to. She does all sorts of cheesy dance moves that Pamela sees in her peripheral vision.
“You’re ridiculous,” Pamela laughs with a shake of her head. She can’t help but notice, however, that despite all Mercy’s gesticulation, she still hasn’t let go of Pamela’s hand.
~~~~
After checking in at the hotel and dropping their bags off in their room – which, unfortunately, only has one bed, making Pamela swallow thickly at the sight – the two of them head off on foot. They decide to go to the Hershey Gardens first, wanting to get some blood flowing after sitting in the car for four hours. Mercy took photos with the old film camera that Pamela hadn’t even known she packed until she pulled it out before they left the hotel room. It hangs from her neck on a strap with a brightly coloured floral and geometric pattern.
“Since when did you have a Nikon N2000?” Pamela asks, holding still as Mercy takes a photo of the morpho butterfly that just landed on the sleeve of Pamela’s dark green sweater.
“Mm, I just picked it up at a thrift shop the other day,” Mercy says, a huge grin on her face as she turns to take a picture of plumeria tree, where another tropical butterfly rests. “There’s even a small shop in town that sells film, and the owner said she’d show me how to develop it in their red room. I’ve always wanted to learn, so I’m super excited.”
Eyebrows raised, Pamela marvels at the way Mercy is able to make friends seemingly anywhere she went. It used to make her a little bit jealous; now, though, it’s one of her favourite things about Mercy. That, and her endless desire to step out of her comfort zone and try new things (which, frankly, is more than a little bit of a turn-on). “Well, I look forward to seeing how your photos turn out,” Pamela says, her heart veritably singing as she follows closely behind as Mercy flits further down the path, her short skirt fluttering with the bounce of steps.
After the gardens, Mercy and Pamela head to the Hershey Story Museum to wander around the exhibits, as well as take part in the Chocolate Lab. By then, it’s dinnertime, so they go to Fenicci’s, which is supposed to be the best restaurant in Hershey. They share an exotic mushroom pizza, and Pamela indulges in a glass of wine, letting Mercy take a sip to see if she likes it. Pamela can’t help but laugh when Mercy makes a face as she hands the glass back before taking a few gulps of her sweet tea.
“There go my dreams of sipping wine along the Seine when I go to Paris for Fashion Week,” Mercy laments with a slight pout of her full lower lip (a look Pamela finds far too adorable).
“You could always drink champagne,” offers Pamela, reaching across the table to give Mercy’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “Or get a cocktail, like a Boulevardier. It was invented in the 1920s, so it would go well with the flapper look I imagine you adopting there.”
Mercy hums in thought. “I have always enjoyed the flapper look,” she says, propping her chin on the hand not currently twined with Pamela’s as she gets a faraway look in her eyes, considering. “Maybe I should learn how to sew, so I can finally start making my own outfits.”
Mirroring Mercy’s position, Pamela imagines the utterly besotted look on her face is obvious to everyone in the restaurant – everyone, that is, except the very woman she has found herself falling in love with over these past several months.
~~~~
“I’m so glad we decided to take the last tour of the day, so we could be the only ones on the ride,” Pamela says as they let themselves into their hotel room. “I don’t know that I would’ve enjoyed it quite as much otherwise.”
Mercy hums in agreement, just as oddly quiet as she was on the walk back. At first, Pamela had thought it was because they were out late at night in a strange town. Now, though, she’s getting a little worried.
Taking a deep breath to gather her courage, she asks, “Is something the matter?”
“Just thinking,” replies Mercy, her head downturned as she sits on the foot of the bed and starts working on untying the laces on her high heeled saddle shoes.
Bottom lip between her teeth, Pamela nods in understanding. “Just let me know if you need a sounding board or anything.”
Not wanting Mercy to feel like she’s hovering, after slipping off her Tevas and leaving them by the door, Pamela grabs her toiletry bag and heads into the bathroom to start getting ready for the night. The entire time she’s doing her nightly bedtime routine, she’s wracking at her brain, trying desperately to figure out if she did something wrong to upset Mercy. But nothing comes to mind. Which makes her even more anxious.
After finishing up, Pamela takes a few calming breaths before leaving the bathroom.
Apparently, she should have waited at least a couple more minutes, though, because the sight that greets her has Pamela equal parts flustered and aroused: Mercy, back toward the bathroom door, clad only in a turquoise-coloured thong. She’s bent over her open bag on the bed, presumably digging for her pyjamas. Her full, round buttocks slightly thrusted out, and from this angle, Pamela can see the side of one of her full breasts.
It takes a matter of seconds for Pamela to register that she’s seeing her friend practically naked, without her express permission. Looking away as she feels a blush colour her cheeks, Pamela clears her throat to announce her presence – though not before she feels a twitch in her panties. Blush deepening and spreading, Pamela moves her toiletry bag in front of her crotch just before Mercy looks back at her over her shoulder.
“Oh sorry,” Mercy says with a slight laugh, smiling at Pamela. Turning back to her suitcase, she makes a noise of triumph as she pulls out mint green cropped camisole and matching shorts, as well as a coral-coloured dressing gown with white pansies. “Didn’t expect you to finish so quickly,” she continues, voice briefly muffled by the fine fabric of her cami as she pulls it on.
When she turns around, Pamela feels another twitch from her groin as she sees that the top hugs Mercy’s breasts perfectly, pert nipples stark. Not one to usually pay that close attention to others’ appearances, Pamela has never noticed before how large Mercy’s breasts are, even compared to her full waist. They’re balanced out by Mercy’s fairly wide hips, however, giving her an hourglass figure. (How any of Mercy’s clothes fit Alex’s pencil thin figure, Pamela will never know.)
“If you’re done, I’m gonna get ready for bed myself,” Mercy says, far too nonchalant about the fact that she’s still only wearing a skimpy top and a thong, her shorts in hand and dressing gown folded over her arm. “Then maybe we can watch a movie?”
“Sure,” Pamela stutters, her voice raised a few octaves. Her panties are starting to feeling uncomfortably tight.
Offering her wide grin that never fails to take Pamela’s breath away, Mercy grabs her toiletry bag and heads to the bathroom.
Soon as the door clicks shut, Pamela releases the breath she’d been holding and heads over to wear she set her bag on the sofa in the corner. Putting back her toiletries, she pulls out the pyjamas she packed – a ratty, old tank top and knee-length sleep shorts from the men’s section. After glancing over her shoulder real quick, even though she hears the buzz of Mercy’s electric toothbrush, Pamela doffs her sweater and bra, leaving her joggers for last. She has to bite back a whimper as she does, her swelling cock already starting to get hypersensitive.
“God, just go away,” she whispers angrily at her semi-erection. It does not listen. So, growling to herself, Pamela finishes changing and then hurriedly gets into bed, using one of the extra pillows from her side to cover her lap. Closing her eyes, she focuses on calming her breathing and heart rate, and does her best to ignore the urge to thrust up into the pillow. She also tries to ignore how she’s starting to feel wet as well.
The bathroom door opens just as Pamela finishes calming down, her penis now flaccid. It’s a good thing too because Mercy looks both delectable and adorable as she pads into the room, now fully dressed with her dressing gown loosely tied closed. She puts away her toiletries, then walks around the bed to set her bag next to Pamela’s on the sofa.
Mercy looks at Pamela as she pulls off her dressing gown and folds it over the arm of the sofa. “Any thoughts on what we should watch?”
Busy watching Mercy move around the room and fiddle with something on the wall-mounted tv, Pamela takes a few extra moments to respond. “Oh, um, no. Not really.”
Turning off the overhead light, Mercy walks back in the dark. She clicks on the lamp on her bedside table, the light surprisingly soft and warm for a hotel. After climbing into the bed, Mercy hums as she seems to examine Pamela for a few seconds before turning on the television and directing it to the fire stick she apparently plugged in. She scrolls through a great deal of films before she settles on one that Pamela has heard of, but never gotten around to seeing – The Birdcage.
“You seen this before?”
Pamela shakes her head. “It’s not really the sort of thing my family watches.”
“I’m glad I get to be the one to show it to you then!” Mercy gushes, pressing play.
At first, Pamela is completely engrossed in the movie, only tangentially aware of Mercy sitting in the bed next to her. But then, without even realizing it, it’s like they both drifted closer and closer together, until they’re sitting thigh-to-thigh in the centre of the bed. Still, Pamela is able to pay a reasonable amount of attention to the plot, laughing at all the right spots. Even when their hands become twined together on top of their thighs.
It gets a bit harder, though, when Mercy lays her head on Pamela’s shoulder and starts to play footsie under the blankets. Her breath shaky, Pamela responds in kind, first with one first, and then with both. Eventually, it becomes a sort of competition to see who can pin whose foot. The room fills with laughter, the movie pretty much forgotten as they become more exuberant. Pamela barely registers losing the pillow that covered her lap, or even the blanket getting shoved to the floor, too focused on the task at hand.
By that point, it’s more than just a little footsie – it’s a full-on tussle. Bodies intertwined, they wrestle across the queen-sized bed. Few words are exchanged, and those only in protest, most of the sounds they make being laughter and grunts of exertion.
Before she knows it, Pamela is pinned to bed, sprawled out on her back with her head on one of the two remaining pillows, red hair escaped out of its bun. Above her, Mercy straddles her hips as she leans forward, hands clasped around Pamela’s wrists where she has them pinned on the pillow on either side of her head. Her long hair hangs down, tickling Pamela’s face. Both of their chests heave as they fight to catch their breath.
“Got you,” Mercy gasps, triumphant grin spread across her face.
“So you did,” Pamela murmurs, staring up at her captor. Her heart bounds in her chest, and she doesn’t think it’s just because of their impromptu wrestling match. She watches as Mercy’s throat bobs around a swallowing, feeling it in her very core as Mercy examines her from above. After a few minutes, she seems to come to some sort of conclusion.
Voice soft, intimate, Mercy says, “I think I’m falling in love with you.”
It’s Pamela’s turn to swallow thickly now, a lump in her throat and tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. “I’m falling in love with you too,” she admits, voice just as gentle.
Mercy breaks out into a smile that Pamela’s never seen before, her dark brown eyes seeming to light up. Her eyes search Pamela’s face. “Can I kiss you?”
Smiling back in kind, Pamela nods more exuberantly than she intended, making herself a little dizzy. “You can kiss me anytime you want,” she proclaims, meaning every word.
Moving slowly, likely waiting to see if Pamela is going to change her mind, Mercy bridges the gap between them. When a mere centimetre separates their lips, she pauses for the briefest of seconds before making that last plunge.
The moment their lips meet, Pamela is a goner. Never before has she felt this way when she’s kissed people before, like she can feel it in not just in her entire body, but to her very core. But it also feels… safe. Like home.
They start off soft, tentative as they test the waters, learn each other. Without conscious thought, Pamela feels one of her hands cup the back of Mercy’s head, the other gripping her hip. That’s when she notices that Mercy released her wrists in order to prop herself up on her forearms. She revels in the feeling of their breasts rubbing together as their kiss deepens. Tongues meeting, Pamela moans into Mercy’s mouth. Mercy hums in response and then does something with her tongue over the roof of Pamela’s mouth that sends a shiver down her spine, hips twitching up involuntarily.
“Fuck,” gasps Mercy as she pulls away from the kiss.
She starts kissing her way down Pamela’s neck, along her collarbone, and across her left breast that Pamela hadn’t realized had fallen out of her stretched out top. Normally, Pamela is incredibly self-conscious about her chest, having developed a bit early, and having large, slightly sagging breasts at that. But right now, her brain is too busy frying a little as Mercy starts to suck on her nipple. Pamela arches into Mercy’s mouth, tightening her hold on Mercy’s hair a little bit. At this, Mercy moans and sucks harder, finally dragging a moan out of Pamela as well.
Releasing her hold with another gasp, Mercy sits up all the way. The look she gives Pamela sends a jolt straight through her cock. A smirk spreads over Mercy’s face as she starts to grind down on Pamela’s groin, drawing more moans out of Pamela. She sets a steady rhythm and pulls off her tiny top, holding eye contact with Pamela all the while. Tossing her camisole aside, Mercy tugs off Pamela’s tank top as well, and then grabs ahold of Pamela’s hands and places them on her breasts.
Unable to hold back a whimper as Mercy continues to grind down onto her now fully erect cock, Pamela takes the hint and starts playing with Mercy’s breasts. Taking hold of Mercy’s nipples, Pamela alternately pinches, pulls, and twists them, never doing the same thing to both of them at the same time.
“Go, Mercy, you’re so beautiful,” Pamela says breathlessly, mesmerized by the way Mercy throws her head back, pushing her breasts further into Pamela’s hands while continuing to gyrate.
Mercy smiles softly down at her. “So are you, Mela.”
Pamela feels a rush go through her and she just has to sit up to grab hold of either side of Mercy’s face and capture her lips in a passionate kiss. Into it, she pours all of the emotions, every single thing that Mercy has made her feel since the two of them met just five short months ago. Her chest swells with elation as Mercy gives as good as she gets.
As they kiss, Pamela lays back down. Before Mercy follows her all the way down, she helps Pamela out of her shorts and underwear. When Pamela goes to return the favour, though, she notices that Mercy isn’t wearing anything under her tiny shorts. Pamela grabs ahold of Mercy’s bare ass and tugs her down fully on top of her. Moaning with the impact, Mercy shifts slightly, giving them both a thigh to grind their wet pussies into.
After what could be either a few minutes or an hour, Mercy reaches a hand between them and grabs ahold of Pamela’s cock. She gasps into Mercy’s mouth as Mercy strokes her turgid length, foreskin smoothing her path. Too overwhelmed to keep kissing, Pamela tucks her face into the crook of Mercy’s neck and just breathes.
“You feel so good in my hand,” Mercy observes, her grip just this side of too tight, somehow knowing that’s the exact way Pamela likes it. “I bet it’ll feel even better in my cunt.”
Pamela chokes on nothing, caught off guard both by the words and the fact that it’s Mercy saying them. “Wh-what?”
Mercy pulls back slightly, thumbing the head of Pamela’s cock on the up-stroke. “Do you want to fuck me?”
Eyes searching Mercy’s face, Pamela inquires, “Are you absolutely sure? This is what you want?”
“Positive. Is this what you want?”
Smiling, Pamela nods. “It is.”
Taking a deep breath, Mercy lets it out slowly as she sits up fully again. Cock still in her hand, she starts to line it up with her entrance.
“Wait,” says Pamela, placing her hand on top of Mercy’s and sitting up as well.
Brow furrowed, Mercy’s voice sounds a little hurt as she asks, “Did you change your mind?”
Pamela shakes her head quickly, reaching her other hand up to cup Mercy’s cheek, which Mercy leans into. “No, no, not at all,” she reassures, stroking her thumb over Mercy’s cheekbone. “I just thought it would be a good idea if I prepared you first, especially since you’ve never done this before.”
Her hands coming up to cup either side of Pamela’s face, much like Pamela did to her earlier, Mercy gives her a soft, slow kiss. When she pulls back, she leans their foreheads together. “You are the absolute sweetest, most considerate person I have ever met, Pamela Dawes,” she declares, voice firm.
“I just want to make sure you’re comfortable, and that you enjoy yourself,” Pamela says with a slight shrug.
“Exactly,” Mercy retorts, like it’s obvious.
Huffing a laugh, Pamela gives her a peck on the corner of her lips. Then, leaning over the sides of the bed to grab a few of the pillows that got knocked on the floor, she hands one to Mercy. “All right, use this and the other pillow behind your head and lay back comfortably,” she orders.
“Yes, bǎo bèi,” Mercy says, giving Pamela a peck of her own before lying down in the middle of the bed.
Second pillow in hand, Pamela moves to kneel between Mercy’s spread legs and taps her hip. “Lift up for a second, so I can put this under your hips.”
Eyebrow lifted in curiosity, Mercy does as Pamela asked.
Satisfied, Pamela lays down on her stomach with another pillow under her own hips for more comfort, glad both that the bed is a queen and that Mercy laid down so that she is half-propped against the headboard. Propping herself up on her elbows, Pamela looks up at Mercy. “Put your legs over my shoulders.”
Both eyebrows raised now, Mercy again does as Pamela asked.
“Ready?”
“More than.”
Grinning, Pamela leans and starts sucking on Mercy’s clit.
“Fuck,” Mercy stutters out on a gasp, one hand gripping at the sheets next to her and the other twining itself in the hair on the back of Pamela’s head.
Pulling off, Pamela licks a stripe up Mercy’s slit before licking her way inside. Mercy’s grip on her hair tightening slightly, Pamela takes it as encouragement and inserts first one finger then two along with her tongue. She spreads her fingers apart, helping stretch Mercy a little as she thrusts her fingers and tongue in and out. Over her shoulders, Mercy’s legs squirm a little. Wanting more, Pamela pulls out her tongue and starts alternating sucking Mercy’s clit and flicking it with the tip of her tongue. At the same time, she starts crooking her fingers in a come-hither motion.
“Oh my god,” Mercy moans, her hand tugging on Pamela’s hair now and her hips giving abortive little thrusts up into Pamela’s mouth. “Just like that, Mela.”
The tugs on her hair send a sharp pain through Pamela’s scalp, making her moan around her mouthful of Mercy’s swollen clit. Above her, Mercy lets out a long, stuttering, drawn out moan as her clit jerks in Pamela’s mouth, her walls spasm around Pamela’s fingers, and Pamela feels a burst of liquid on her hand. Pamela keeps going. Even as Mercy’s squirming intensifies, her feet flat on Pamela’s shoulders and both hands now gripping at Pamela’s hair.
“Mel-” Mercy whines, alternating between pulling her hips away from Pamela’s mouth and pushing Pamela’s face impossibly closer.
Pamela redoubles her efforts, sucking harder and inserting two more fingers, then her thumb for good measure. She thrusts her hand as fast and as hard as she can, thankful that she always her nails short.
This time when Mercy orgasms, her body becomes stock still and she lets out a keening moan. Her clit jumps and her walls spasm more violently, as she squirts even more all over Pamela’s hand, wrist, and chin. Pamela works her through it, until her entire body collapses onto the mattress, her legs akimbo on either side of Pamela’s shoulders.
Sitting back on her haunches, Pamela licks her hand and wrist clean, then wipes off her chin and licks that off of her finger as well, humming at the pleasant taste. Mercy, watching closely as she does this, crooks a finger at her. Smirk on her face, Pamela crawls up the bed. When their faces are level, Mercy pulls her down into a dirty kiss, licking her own taste out of Pamela’s mouth, moaning as she does.
“I knew you were good with your hands, Mela, but fuck,” Mercy gasps. Her hands grasp at Pamela’s ass cheeks, as she puts her feet flat on the mattress. “Now let’s see what you can do with that gorgeous cock of yours.”
Letting out a needy groan, Pamela captures another dirty kiss before taking hold of her sensitive dick and lining it up with Mercy’s entrance. Slowly, she thrusts forward, inserting herself inch by agonizing inch. It feels like an eternity before she bottoms out, Mercy’s cunt soft and wet and burning hot around her achingly hard length.
“You’re still so tight,” Pamela grunts, fighting to stay still until Mercy gives the all clear.
“You’re so big,” Mercy explains, her voice a little breathy and her long nails digging into Pamela’s shoulders. Her grip relaxes as Pamela strokes her thigh and caresses their noses together. Once her hands are completely relaxed, she gives Pamela a tender kiss, then speaks against her lips. “You can move now.”
Pamela starts off with slow, shallow thrusts – both to help Mercy get acclimated, and because it’s been a good long while since she’s had sex, so she’s lost the rhythm of it. After a little bit, Mercy wraps one of her legs around Pamela’s thigh.
“You can go faster and harder now,” she says, looking up at Pamela. “I’m not fragile, y’know.”
Huffing a laugh, Pamela nods. “I know you aren’t.”
So she stabilizes herself on her knees a little bit more, then starts putting a little more energy into her thrusts. As she does, Mercy starts letting out the sweetest little moans and moving her hips to meet Pamela’s. Satisfied that Mercy is now starting to enjoy herself, Pamela licks and nips at the skin before her. She aimlessly wanders, sucking little marks here and there – the crook of Mercy’s neck. A point midway along her collarbone. The soft skin of her underarm, just below her wiry armpit hair. Behind her ear. Between her breasts. All the while, she continues to thrust into Mercy’s sopping cunt.
“More, bǎo bèi,” moans Mercy, as she wraps her other leg around Pamela’s waist, opening herself up more.
Groaning from where she has her face tucked between Mercy’s breasts, Pamela pushes herself up on one of her forearms a little more leverage. With the other, she grabs hold of the leg that Mercy has wrapped around her waist to hold it there. Then, Pamela starts pounding into Mercy, changing the angle with every few thrusts, searching. She knows she’s found it when –
“There!” Mercy cries on a particularly high-pitched moan. She pulls Pamela down into a sloppy kiss. The nails of Mercy’s other hand dig and claw at the skin of Pamela’s back, and based on the sting, she’s broken the skin in at least a few places.
Pamela barely pays it any mind, though. Too busy working that same spot. At the same time, she shifts Mercy’s leg up onto her shoulder to free up her hand. This way she can circle her thumb over Mercy’s engorged clit.
Mercy’s entire body arches, and her mouth gapes open on a silent moan, as her walls spasms around Pamela’s dick. The vice-like grip, and the feeling of Mercy squirting once again, shoves Pamela over the edge as well. She thrusts four more times before she comes with a chest-rumbling groan, cock jerking as it spurts rope after rope of come deep inside Mercy’s pussy. Mercy gives a little whine as she feels it shoot into her, her walls giving a few more weak flutters.
Once they’ve both finished, they collapse together onto the bed; Pamela making sure to land half on the mattress. Legs intertwined, Pamela’s face tucked into Mercy’s neck on top of the pillow. Pamela strokes her fingers lightly over Mercy’s side, while Mercy cards hers through Pamela’s hair. They lay together in silence, the movie having long ago finished playing and the television looping through the hotel screensaver.
“That was – wow,” Mercy finally breaks the silence to say. She pulls her head back slightly to look at Pamela, who opens her eyes to meet her gaze. “Seriously, that was better than I ever imagined. Thank you, Mela.” With that, she uses her hand on the back of Pamela’s head to pull her into a soft, tender kiss.
“Anytime, Mer,” Pamela murmurs against her lips.
~~~~
The next morning, they share a shower. Nothing sexual happens (though they did get a little sidetracked by some steamy kisses a few times here and there). Instead, they simply help wash each other’s long hair, and Mercy cleans the scratches on Pamela’s back, apologizing the entire time. Even as Pamela assures her that it’s okay, she promises to pop down to a corner store before they leave to pick up some antibiotic ointment. Knowing it’s a good idea, Pamela keeps still as Mercy applies it, before pulling on her sweater.
“Can I drive?” Mercy asks as they head out to the parking lot after checking out of the hotel. Large purple sunglasses on top of her head, today her hair is in an intricate five-strand braid, which she duplicated on Pamela. She walks backward toward the car Pamela borrowed from her sister, red-painted lips in a hopeful grin.
Pamela shakes her head. But nonetheless, she tosses the keys over, and Mercy does a triumphant little twirl before getting in the driver’s seat. A warmth filling her chest, Pamela gets in the passenger side and starts searching for the perfect playlist on her phone.
Once they get home, Pamela vows to learn how to make all of Mercy’s favourite foods, and to share her own favourites in return.