Chapter Text
This is the highlight of your year. You go every year, it doesn't matter what you have to do to make it happen. This year felt different the moment the set list announced. You went breathless, staring at your screen unblinkingly. It had always been a possibility that she'd end up here, but you weren't ready for it.
This feels like your space. Even if she was somewhere in attendance, it's a massive festival, you probably wouldn't see her. It's different when she's performing. Her face is everywhere, and she absolutely knows you're here, somewhere. It's been at least a year since you've been in the same space, and that was intentional on your part.
All day your eyes scan the crowd, and you intentionally stick to crowded areas, trying to blend in. You've made it through almost the whole weekend without seeing her or anyone on her team, it feels like an accomplishment.
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It's Saturday night, you're at an after party. You've had more to drink than you normally would, and you've strayed from your friend group to dance with a gorgeous redhead. She's in the tiniest little dress, the lights shining on her skin, and your hands have been all over her for an hour. You plan on going somewhere with her afterwards, but it hasn't been talked about yet, you've just been going on vibes. Her eyes tell you that this isn't ending here.
She's pressed in front of you, grinding back into your body with enough pressure that an ache has built up. Your hands have slipped into the cutouts on the sides of her dress, fingertips trailing along her ribs. You whisper small kisses along her neck, eyes fluttering closed for a moment as you breathe her in.
When your eyes open everything goes cold. She's no more than fifteen feet in front of you, dancing in a group. You don't know the girl that she's with. Vera's eyes drill into you, piercing blue across the distance. Your mouth drops open, and you feel your palms grow damp, hear your heartbeat in your ears over the music.
Your hands loosen on the pretty redhead, and you talk loudly over the music, “I'm so sorry, I have a horrible headache all of a sudden. Can I catch you in the morning?”
She turns, and your eyes break from Vera to see the girl in your arms look disappointed as she says, “Do you want me to come with you?”
“Nah, I'm gonna sleep. You have fun. Let's catch up tomorrow, meet me out front?”
You pull her into your arms, eyes on Vera again and kiss the top of her head. You don't know if you'll see her in the morning, but you do know that you need to leave this party immediately. As soon as you turn, you start moving fast, sticking to the crowd as you quickly arrange an Uber.
It says that it'll be there in seven minutes. Your eyes scan the crowd, and you don't see her. You send a quick text to a friend, explaining why you're vanishing. She'll understand.
You burn five minutes in the crowd, eyes on high alert when you finally leave. The night air feels extra chilly with your nervous energy, but you see the car pictured on Uber coming down the road.
“Te ves bien, ma”, you hear from behind you.
It feels like the world stops. You don't turn, don't say anything. The car comes closer as you hear footsteps.
“Baby. ¿Ni siquiera puedes hablar conmigo?”
You feel her hand on your wrist, and you snap it from her grasp. Your voice is quieter than you mean it to be, “Vera. No. Dije que no más, y lo decía en serio.”
Turning slightly, your eyes catch hers. “Good luck tomorrow, OK? But I can't, Ver.”
Her face is hard to read, “Will you be there?”
The car pulls up beside you, and you sigh, “I don't know. I haven't decided.”
“Mami… Could you be? I'd feel better, with you in the crowd”, her voice is quiet, there's vulnerability there.
You hesitate. It was a lie, you know you'd be in the crowd, but you didn't plan on her knowing that. Sighing, you say, “I can be in the crowd, but that's all I am. Good night, Vera.”
Your eyes leave hers as you turn towards the car, and she grabs your wrist again. It hits you in the chest this time, and you can't find the energy to pull back. You let her guide you by the arm, turning towards her.
Her blue eyes hold emotion that you don't want to see, and she pulls you into her arms. You stay still for a second, arms loose at your sides as hers wrap around you. She murmurs your name and it feels like something breaks in you, and your arms move around her as you inhale her familiar citrus and spice.
“Ha pasado dos años. Te extraño”, the low rasp of her voice makes the corners of your eyes pickle.
“Vera”, your voice warns.
“Nena, porfa, ¿Alguna vez me dejarás disculparme? I fucked up.”
“You apologized a lot, that's the problem. Too many times… I need to go. I'll be there tomorrow, in the crowd, but that's it. Please. I can't, I just can't.”
You pull back from her arms, and a tear escapes before your fingertips brush it away. It wasn't quick enough, her eyes flash with recognition. She murmurs your name again, and you hold her eyes for a moment.
“Goodnight, Vera”, you say as you turn.
Once you're buckled into the car, you glance out the window, and she hasn't moved. Her eyes hold yours through the window until the car starts moving, and you watch her gaze follow until the driver turns a corner.
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You're anxious all day on Sunday. The day moves so slowly, your eyes on high alert again. You have to see her today, you agreed to it, but you'd like it to only be across a crowd.
You didn't expect her to text you, assumed that was a line that she wouldn't cross, or that she might not even have your number now.
V: “estoy nerviosa”
Sighing, you contemplate if you should answer. She has plenty of people that she can talk to about being nervous, it doesn't have to be you. You watch the screen long enough that dots appear again.
V: “¿estarás allí?”
Y/N: “Dije que estaría allí.”
V: “¿podría verte de antemano?”
Her message is more dangerous than it seems on the surface. She knows what she's doing, should know better than to ask. You start to type, but stop when you see dots again.
V: “sé que no debería preguntar. lo sé. pero estoy tan nervioso. siento que voy a enfermarme.”
Y/N: “You'll do great Ver, you always do.”
V: “you always say that. please? I wouldn't be asking if I wasn't this stressed.”
Y/N: “You always have people, where's Anna?”
V: “I don't though, you know what I mean”
Y/N: “Where are you? I'll find you but I want to smoke first.”
She tells you how to get to her, and you start off in her direction. You shouldn't be doing this, promised yourself you wouldn't give her an inch. This feels like letting her take a mile.
You see her before she sees you. She looks small, sitting in front of what you assume is her trailer for the weekend, bundled up in an oversized hoodie. The hood is pulled so far forward that you can't see her face from this angle, she's tucked away like she's hiding. Smoke curls around her, and she takes another hit from the joint that she's holding.
Her head lifts as you approach, and she stands. Walking towards you, she falls into your arms, head curling into the space along your neck. You find the joint, bringing it to your lips and inhaling deeply. She feels too good here, your chest hurts again.
“Gracias, hace tiempo que no me ponía tan nervioso”, her voice is barely above a whisper.
“Vera, siempre eres increíble. Estarás bien en cuanto tus pies pisen el escenario.”
“Tal vez. Pero hasta entonces, siento que me estoy muriendo.”
You stay like that for a few moments, holding her and smoking, and one of you eventually starts slowly swaying. The smoke slowly furls through you, the wheels of your mind calming, tightness in your chest fading. The bittersweet feeling lightens, and you let yourself enjoy the feeling of her in your arms.
Her voice is somehow even quieter, “Nunca pensé que me abrazarías así otra vez.”
Sighing, you turn your face into her hair, inhaling her scent, “Solo esta vez, Ver. No más después de esto, porfa.”
“Cariño, han pasado dos años. Déjame demostrarte que no te haré daño.”
Pulling back, you meet her eyes, trying to convey that you mean your words, “Eso también lo has dicho tú… Look, obviously I still care about you in some fucked up way, I'm here. I can do this, but we can't talk about this shit, the past. And this is the last time, I'm serious. Don't ask again.”
Her eyes are wide, “Ma-”
You inhale deeply from the joint, shaking your head. “No. I'll say this, but that's the last of it. You broke my heart. Slowly, over time, and you knew you were doing it. You kept me dangling on a string, let me feel that until it became so much that I had to walk away. And now you're texting me, asking me to help with your nerves, like none of that happened. Like it hasn't been two years. Do you really think that's OK?”
She lowers her eyes, “No, but-”
“Great, now that we've established how fucked up this is for you to even ask. I'm here. We're not talking about it. Let me finish smoking this and take me inside, just fuck me. Don't be sweet about it, we both know what this is.”
You pull away from her completely, turning the other direction and blinking back the tears that she doesn't deserve to see. Looking upwards, you try to distract yourself with the perfect sky as you take quick pulls from the joint.
“God damn, will you let me say anything? Don't you think I've grown up at all over the last two years? I treated you horribly, I fucking know. You've ignored every attempt that I've made to apologize. When I saw you yesterday this felt like a chance to make you finally listen. I didn't ask you to come here to fuck me.”
You turn again, “You didn't? Then why isn't Anna the kind of people you need right now?”
She opens her mouth, but doesn't say anything.
“Exactly. Come on Ver. I'm not stupid.”
Closing your eyes, you take one final pull from the joint. You toss it to the ground afterwards, putting it out with the toe of your shoe. Rubbing your temple, you look up at her. Your eyes take in her posture and expression, and you soften. You don't want to process the emotion you see in her, but you can tell that your words stung.
“I'm not trying to be a bitch. You hurt me, and I won't let you again. I'm here because I still care about you, obviously. And seeing you last night made me feel weak. This is stupid but I fucking miss you, and I know how you get when you're this nervous. So just fuck me, but that's it.”
You don't give her time to talk, pass her to walk towards her trailer. The door is unlocked, and you don't look back as you open the door. She's close enough behind you that it doesn't slam closed, and you toe your shoes off as she locks it behind her.
Her hands land on your hips, fingertips pressing into the bare skin above your skirt. The instant sparks that go through your body annoy you, and you groan, frustrated that she still makes you feel so much with such little touch. Your eyes find hers, and her expression knocks you breathless. It feels like the air has been sucked from the room. The look that she gives you has lived in your memory, crystal clear and taunting. It's lust, but also an unnamed emotion that built unspoken, a look that settled into her eyes over time together.
“Hard. I want it hard, Ver. I don't want to know my name.”
She nods, her body brushing yours as she slowly pushes you back into the door. “I want you so bad baby, been thinking about this way too much, for way too long.”
“Then do it, give it to me hard for all those times you thought about it.”
Her lips are on yours as soon as the words leave your mouth, her body flush against you as the door presses hard into your back. It’s immediately fierce, her tongue slides into your mouth without asking. You feel the need in her, but it’s pitched darker, laced with anger and hurt. It burns through you, and you give it back, biting her lip and reeling at the sound she makes. Her belt buckle digs into your stomach as her hips start to grind into yours, the edge of discomfort feels fitting, desire laced with pain. You roll into it as much as you can, trapped between her and the door, as desperation rises in you.
Her hands move under the edge of your shirt, fingertips pressing hard into the bare skin on your sides. When she reaches the edge of your bra she groans, suddenly pulling back and grabbing your wrist.
“Cama, ahora. Necesito verte.”
She pulls you along without waiting for your response, taking you to her unmade bed. Your eyes catch her favorite pillow, the ridiculously fluffy blanket that she takes everywhere, and your memory uselessly recalls how good it feels to be tangled up naked with her under it.
She brings you back to reality as her hands tag on your shirt, “Quítatelo, porfa”.
Your arms go up as she brings it over your head, taking your bra with it. Her eyes immediately settle on your sternum, fingertips reaching out to trace the blackwork of a year old tattoo. You’ve acquired several new pieces since she saw you last. Intentional, a process of trying to make yourself new, in a way. Now ruined, as her fingers brush over each line that made you feel like you no longer belonged to her.
“Esto es nuevo”, she murmurs, fingers trailing to your nipple piercings next, “y estos también”.
You shake your head, “No mi tatuaje más reciente, ese tiene un poco más de un año. Y los piercings tienen casi dos.”
“Me gustan, eres hermosa.”
“Nunca se suponía que los vieras, Ver. No son para ti.”
Her eyes flash, pain and anger obvious as her hands tighten on you. She lowers her head to one breast, tongue flicking over your nipple before she says, “Son para mí, hoy. Eres mío ahora mismo.”
Your fingers pull her hair, “Esto no me hace tuyo. I’m letting you fuck me, but I’m not yours anymore. No volveré a ser tuya.”
“Nunca dejaste de ser mío, déjame mostrártelo”, she almost growls, taking your nipple into her mouth.
Arching into her, you intentionally pull her hair hard enough to sting. It feels too good already, her voice against your skin, tongue flicking perfectly over you. You’re annoyed at how wet you are, feel your panties pressing damply against you. It’s like she feels it, one hand brushing along your thigh, moving inwards. You don’t want her to know, a feeling of dread mixes with arousal as her fingers trace towards your center. The growing moisture there is undeniable proof, your body betraying you, admittance that you still want this, her.
She laughs against you when her fingertips reach the top of your thighs, brushing against your panties. Her lips pop free of your breast and her eyes find yours, fingertips pressing into your clit through the damp material.
“Bebita, you’re fucking soaked.”
Her fingertips work broad circles over you, and you try to hold your hips still, biting your lip. It feels like relief, but also torture, your need feels like it multiples with each second that her hands are on you. Your body knows how good this will be, longs for it, is beyond ready even if your mind is protesting it.
She pushes you backwards, “Bed, on the bed. Everything off.”
You push your skirt and panties down as you climb into bed, and she’s spreading your legs before you’ve even settled into the pillows. Her fingertips brush through your folds, eyes falling there as she moves between your thighs. You’re wet enough that she quickly moves them downwards, two fingers sliding into you without resistance as her other hand finds your clit.
“No me importa lo que digas, estás tan mojada por mí. Esto es mío. Prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen, dripping like you haven’t been getting it right. Look how desperate you are for it baby. For me.”
“God, would you shut up?”, you groan, letting her hear the frustration in your voice.
“No. I’ll never shut up about how fucking wet you get for me. I’ve barely touched you. You still want me, this.”
“You’re impossible.”
“Maybe, but you still want me”, she says as her fingers fuck into you.
You groan, choose not to respond to her words, close your eyes and let yourself really feel her fingers working on you. Just as you settle into the sensation, her tongue licks a broad path up your clit. Your hips jerk into her mouth as you clench against her fingers, and she laughs against you, digging into the sensitive spot along your inner wall more firmly.
Turning your thoughts off, you settle into the way it feels, already far too good. You’d never admit it to her, but no one in the last two years has been able to do this the way that she can. Your body melts into it right away, hips following her rhythm, perfect from the start. Even after all this time, she gives it to you like she has a map, like she does it every day. Her mouth works magic on you, and you find it hard to keep quiet as pressure already begins building in your stomach.
She suddenly switches what she’s doing, falling into a quick pattern that she’s ruined you with too many times. There’s something that she does with her tongue here that you’ve never been able to figure out, and her name falls from your lips before your brain stops it. She moans into you, hand moving up your stomach to take one of yours. Fingers tangled together, she drags your hand down to your lower abdomen, flattens your hands out to apply pressure there. Everything increases with it, her fingers inside you feel more intense, the pressure in your stomach rises, her tongue sends shocks through you.
Your eyes flutter open when she squeezes your fingers, catch her blue eyes in intense focus on you. It makes your chest ache, that look in your eyes has haunted your dreams and fantasies constantly. It’s a look that says “mine” again, communicates it without words. Your clit pulses against her tongue and she moans, eyes firm, absolutely an “I told you so”. You slide your other hand down, tangling it into her hair and pulling enough to sting slightly.
The edges of orgasm start to prickle at you, embarrassingly fast, and you try to keep it at bay. You hold your breath, focus on enjoying the sensations that course through you without moving further. Her eyes smirk as she slides a third finger into you, and you bite your lip, scratch her scalp with your nails. That little bit extra starts to push you closer, the hold on your arousal feels like it’s slipping as pleasure builds.
You start to lose control, back arching against the mattress, and finally give in to it. Your breathing comes back with a loud gasp, sensation nearly bursting, when she pulls her mouth away without warning. Her fingers slow to a teasing rhythm, and you clench against them fiercely. It feels like waves run through you, pangs of need as your body processes the denial of orgasm. You moan her name, annoyance audible even in your breathlessness.
She laughs, kisses your thigh before saying, “Did you want something baby?”
Groaning, you roll your eyes at her, “You knew I was going to come, god Ver.”
Smirking, her fingers continue as she speaks, “Hmmm. I’ll make you a deal. You can come if you’ll promise to see me again, tonight after the show, and a second time that you can choose. But you’re seeing me after this.”
Genuine irritation flares in you, and your eyes close, almost making the way her fingers curl inside you more intense. “I said this was the last time.”
“You don’t have to do this again, but you have to see me again, if you want to come.”
“Fuck you”, you whine.
“I mean, you can”, she laughs as her mouth returns to you.
You pull her hair, grind into her tongue with the irritation that you feel. Your clit sparks with relief, soaring through you at the way her tongue puts delicious pressure there. Her words snap your restraint, and you move into her more firmly than you usually would. You find yourself oddly pleased with the way her nose glistens, shiny from the way your clit pushes into it now. Her eyes darken, thrilled with it, and she works into you in a way that reads as hungry.
Aware of the game now, you know that she isn’t going to let you come without agreeing to her terms. You’re on fire, clit riding her tongue, desperate for more of everything. Everything in you wants to come so many times that you’re limp with it, but you can’t give her the satisfaction of agreeing quickly. Under it all, you like this game and she knows it, knows you’ll ultimately give in. It’s mental gymnastics, both of you aware that you'll give her what she wants, eventually.
The game makes your mind reel, arousal soaring at the knowledge that no one has been able to do this right since Vera. She can push you to your very furthest edge, stop just before you come undone. No one else can sense that line as clearly, is willing to bring you back time and time again, has been patient enough to push you until you physically cannot stop. The orgasm at the end of that is otherworldly, makes Vera the best you’ve ever had, even if you’ll never admit it to her. It's why you both know that you’ll give in, you can’t pass up that level of pleasure.
Her fingers rail into you, and you push into them shamelessly, give up on trying to be quiet. You’re getting close again, try to focus on hiding it from her as long as possible. The way that you clench against her makes it difficult, your body betraying you even as you try to keep the tension from your thighs.
She pulls back with a smirk, fingers leaving you this time. You groan, release her hair as she sits to her knees, reaching for the hem of her hoodie. Your body moves without thought, sitting up and brushing her hands away as you pull her sweater over her head. It’s graceless, hurried and irritated, and you take her shirt with it.
Your eyes wander her body without restraint, even though your mind doesn’t want her to see the way your gaze crawls over her. You’ve seen her cherry blossom tattoo in pictures, can’t help but reach your fingers out to trace it. The blackwork is stunning along the toned muscles of her abdomen, weaving beautifully up her sternum between her breasts. You ache with how much you want to kiss along it from start to finish, and find your lips pressing into the branch near her collarbone.
Breath leaves you in as gasp as she suddenly pushes you back to the mattress, sliding her pants and boxers down before climbing over you. She takes you leg over her shoulder, kisses your ankle before her eyes drop between your bodies. Your eyes dart down, following her tattoo until it ends, mind thrilling with the answer to that question.
The pretty, light patch of curls between her legs makes you ache. She glistens beautifully below it, pink and swollen, as she lines herself up over you. Need flares through you, almost overwhelming as you watch her move towards your own wetness. The first press of her feels electric, you arch into her as sparks shoot through you. She’s absolute softness, delicious friction as she grinds into you.
She moans your name, and your eyes flicker to hers. “Te sientes perfecta. Dios, cuánto he echado de menos esto. Tu coño está jodidamente bueno debajo del mío.”
You bite your lip, keep back words that you try not to think.
“Ni siquiera puedes negarlo, mami. Somos tan buenos juntos. ¿Lo has tenido tan bien en los últimos dos años? No lo he hecho”, her voice is quiet at the end.
“Ver”, you groan, your voice a warning.
“Tú también lo has echado de menos, mírate. Gimiendo, arqueándose, tan mojado pa’mí.”
You close your eyes, focus on how she feels against you, even as she continues, “¿Quieres venir cuando yo lo haga, cariño?”
Her words make you throb, clenching against nothing, and you cry out when she pinches your nipple. “Mírame, nena.”
Stubbornly, you press your eyes together, and she releases your nipple to flick it hard with the flat of her nail. Your eyes fly open at her as she continues, “Do you want to come?”
Groaning, you murmur, “Yes, but I’m not agreeing to anything.”
“You will”, she says.
She grinds into you with more urgency, need flashing in her eyes as a sound escapes her. It bubbles up in you, seeing her needy furthers that feeling within you. Your mind flashes with the awareness that she’s going to come like this, grinding into you until she shakes with it. You want to see it almost as much as you want your own orgasm. The scent of her triggers your memory, and your mouth waters as the thought of how she tastes, makes your clit burn with the idea. You push up into her, wonder if you fall into it just before she does, if she’ll really stop you. It feels like a challenge, and your body tingles with it.
She clicks her tongue at you, sass in her tone, “I see what you’re doing.”
“What?, you huff, stubborn and frustrated, body aching with how much you want to come.
“You’re trying to get yourself there quick, beat me because you can tell I won’t last long.”
“No”, your murmur, and even you hear the lie there.
She laughs, “I’ll stop if I have to.”
You glare at her and she rolls into you with more pressure, laughing again. Reaching up with both hands, you pinch her nipples, smirk at her when she moans. Releasing them, your nails press into the soft skin along her sides, scratching down to her hips. The sound that she makes is sexy, arousal mixed with irritation, and you know that she’s closer than she wants you to see. You repeat the gesture on her back, pressing in a bit more, teasing the possibility of leaving marks. Her eyelids flutter, and she suddenly pulls off of you.
“Such a fucking brat. Hands and knees, turn over.”
She’s off the bed as soon as the words leave her mouth, walking across the room to her suitcase. You groan, roll to your stomach and press yourself up to your knees. You’ve positioned yourself on your forearms, and she laughs when she returns, pushing you up until your arms are fully flexed.
“I said hands and knees, you don’t get that angle. Naughty.”
The mattress shifts as she slides in behind you, and you cry out when she smacks your ass. The strap is cool just outside your entrance, slips forward suddenly and presses into you with exquisite fullness. You moan, back arching slightly as your hips press into it.
“You don’t get to touch yourself, and move your legs further apart, no pressing your thighs together.”
“Oh come on”, you whine.
Laughing, she starts to rail into you, “I’ll finger you if you’ll stop being stubborn. Or I’ll fuck you until I come by myself, your choice. Then we’ll do the same thing with you on your back. But then I have to get around baby, the clock is ticking.”
She pushes your legs further apart on the mattress, and you groan at the immediate loss of friction against your clit. “Estoy serio. Solo para, quiero que vengas conmigo. Porfa.”
“Vera”, is all you can manage, your body and mind at war inside you.
“Quiero escuchar cómo suenas, mira la forma en que tiemblas.”
Somehow she always finds the words that make you weak, hits you just where she wants them to. Everything in you wants to come with her, needs to fall into it with her sounds behind you. Time is running short, and if this is the last time, you want to come twice. But if you agree to see her again, you know it won’t be the last time. Not after she makes you come, like a gateway, you know you’ll want it again later. It’s a mental circle, torture heightened by the way she grinds into your g spot.
She pulls you back into her hips, pressing into you so hard that you feel the vibrator that her clit grinds into. The small bit of vibration rolling against your opening feels like the sweetest tease, not enough to make you come, but another layer of sensation that makes you need to.
“Fuck, ma”, she cries, voice cracking, and your last shred of control evaporates.
“God fucking damnit, I’ll see you again.”
Her fingers slip over you immediately, find your clit in an instant, working a pattern that she knows you love. Relief washes over you, and your hips press into her fingers greedily. The awareness that she’s going to let you come is like an accelerant, lighting you further. You clench against the strap so hard that you feel it move your folds, pulsing against her fingers as they move on you.
The fingertips on your hips become hard enough to bruise, her rhythm wild against you as her sounds become continuous. She slams into you so hard that the room almost echoes with it, wetness and the slap of skin on skin. It’s everything, all that you need, sensation so deep that it feels overpowering. The pressure in your stomach flares to near bursting again, orgasm licking at the edges of your perception.
“Please, please Vera”, you whine, beyond caring, pure desire in your words as you look over your shoulder to find her eyes.
“I’m so fucking close, god you’re so good for me baby. Ven conmigo.”
Her hips grow jerky as she speaks, with urgency that matches her tone. Her next sound is distinct, fried into countless memories, as she falls into orgasm. It breaks you, orgasm snapping fiercely through you, every nerve alit with it. You’re consumed with sensation, waves of it crashing with such intensity that it feels overwhelming. She pounds you through it, hips unceasing as you ride it together. Your eyes stay locked with hers, trapped in how beautiful she is in orgasm. Stunning, easily the most gorgeous thing you’ve ever seen. She moans your name, broken off but perfect, and you feel it in your chest.
Your eyes communicate without words, noises falling out of you as your bodies move in practiced rhythm. Years may have passed, but somehow the harmony in this hasn’t, it’s so good that it makes your arms shake.
You both startle, heads snapping towards the door at a sudden pounding.
Anna’s voice shouts through the door, “Holaaaaa. Advertencia de dos minutos, por favor pónganse la ropa. Realmente lo estás dejando muy justo, Vera.”
Your eyes flicker together, both of you groaning quietly. Her hips still move against you, fingers rolling against your clit, but she slows as your eyes hold hers.
She bites her lip, whispers, “Sorry”, as she pulls the strap from you slowly.
Moving along your side, she kisses you softly, tenderness in the way her lips press into yours. It’s interrupted by banging, and you both make a sound into the kiss.
“No estoy bromeando, solo un minuto. Por favor, ponte ropa.”
Vera pulls back, laughing softly, and you both start moving for your clothes. This also feels familiar, sneaking around her friend group, getting caught. You blush, suddenly nervous at seeing Anna, having her find you here in this context. You’d had a conversation with her after you’d cut things off with Vera, explained it all. She said that she understood, and had tried to reach out a few times, but you wanted to cut every tie.
There is one final round of banging, “Estoy entrando”, followed by a pause.
The door swings open as your shirt goes over your head, and you watch as Vera pulls her jeans past her knees. Anna’s eyes dart between you both, eyebrows rising in shock. The sound of Vera adjusting her belt buckle feels especially loud, and you are suddenly very aware of how chaotic your hair must look.
Her tone is amused, “Interesante. Mantendré mis pensamientos para mí. Vera, necesitas empezar a prepararte.”