Chapter Text
‘We can’t do this here,’ Bernie says, breathless, against Serena’s neck.
‘Why not?’ Serena murmurs, finding her lips again and kissing her fiercely.
The hand not firmly tangled in Bernie’s hair slips under the hem of her scrub top, seeking bare skin, and Bernie lets out a strangled moan. ‘Because – oh fuck, Serena.’
‘Trying,’ Serena says dryly.
Bernie’s laugh becomes a gasp as Serena’s fingers edge under the waistband of her trousers. She closes her eyes, swallows hard, catches at Serena’s hand to stop her moving any lower.
They stare at each other, both flushed, chests heaving and eyes dark.
‘Because,’ Bernie tries again, lips a hair’s breadth from Serena’s, 'I would never be able to work in here again.’
Serena smiles and, unable to resist, Bernie kisses her softly.
‘Not to mention someone’s bound to call security and interrupt us.’
‘True,’ Serena concedes. ‘I don’t really want the entire ward seeing me ravish you.’
‘What makes you think you’d be the one doing the ravishing?’ Bernie murmurs, dipping her head so her hot breath whispers across Serena’s neck.
‘I suppose we are equals,’ Serena manages, with a shiver. ‘We could ravish each other.’ She presses against Bernie, delighting in the other woman’s soft groan. ‘Again and again,’ she murmurs, lips brushing the shell of Bernie’s ear.
Bernie looks up at the ceiling, trying vainly to slow her breathing, her heart. ‘Fuck,’ she mutters. ‘How soon can you leave?’ she adds with an unsteady smile.
‘Trying to skive off on your first day?’ Serena teases.
Bernie catches the glint in her eye. ‘Not at all,’ she says, looking at Serena from under her fringe and moving away slightly. ‘I’m happy to stay all night.’
Serena pulls her back, so sharply that they collide against each other. ‘I don’t think so,’ she growls ‘Only one place you’ll be staying tonight,’ she adds before kissing her again. And again, swallowing Bernie’s moan as her words sink in.
Finally she lets her go, steps back but leaves one hand on her bare forearm, unwilling to entirely break contact.
‘If you want to, that is,’ she adds, a little nervously.
‘Oh, I want to,’ Bernie assures her, reaching out with trembling fingers to stroke her cheek.
Serena eyes fall closed and she leans into her hand, unable not to. Her whole body yearns for Bernie, to touch her, be touched by her, to feel her solidity after so many weeks of nothing but imaginings.
‘I’ve missed you,’ she breathes. ‘So much.’
She feels Bernie tense, doesn’t need to look at her to know her eyes will be full of remorse but does anyway, shifts so she can mirror her position, thumb sweeping across her cheekbone.
‘But you’re here now,’ she says softly.
Bernie nods, swallows down the lump in her throat. ‘And I’m not going anywhere,’ she promises.
‘Well, other than home with me,’ Serena says with a wink, and Bernie laughs.
‘Other than that.’
She meets Serena’s lips halfway. This kiss is soft and tender, but enough to reignite their desire.
‘As soon as we can get out,’ Serena murmurs, one hand sliding back into Bernie’s hair, the other gripping her arm, trying to ground herself as want courses through her veins, making her head spin and her legs tremble.
‘Auntie Serena, I found the key!’ Jason calls from the other side of the door.
‘Thank god,’ Bernie mutters.
There’s the rattle of the key being pushed into the lock, and then Fletch’s voice.
‘Hang on, mate,’ he says, sounding as if he’s just sprinted across the ward.
‘It’s ok, Fletch,’ Serena calls, moving away from Bernie a little. She trails her hand down Bernie’s arm, smiles when Bernie tangles their fingers together.
The door swings open to reveal a grinning Jason and a concerned Fletch. He takes one look at the pair of them, sees their flushed cheeks, dishevelled hair, smudged lipstick, and ushers Jason away.
‘Why don’t we just give them a minute, yeah?’
Serena shoots him a grateful smile as he pulls the door to again.
‘That,’ Bernie says, ‘is why we’re not doing anything else here.’
‘Alright, I’ll give you that one.’
Serena means to let go of Bernie, means to pull on her coat and pack her bag ready to leave. Instead she finds herself shifting closer, kissing those impossibly soft lips again.
‘Can’t get enough of you,’ she murmurs.
‘Feeling’s mutual,’ Bernie says, gazing at her through half-lidded eyes. She raises a hand, gently wipes away smears of lipstick with her thumb.
Serena’s lips part at her touch and she can’t resist grazing the pad with her teeth, with the very tip of her tongue.
Bernie gasps at the sensation, then moans softly when she sees how dark Serena’s eyes are. ‘Serena,’ she breathes.
‘Come home with me?’
Unable to speak, Bernie nods. Reluctantly she lets go of Serena so they can both gather their things. Her fingers are shaking so much she fumbles with everything, huffs in frustration and looks up to find Serena watching her, waiting.
‘Ready?’ she asks, smiling fondly, holding out her hand.
‘Ready.’ Bernie laces their fingers together, can’t resist kissing her broad smile, tongue briefly slipping inside to touch Serena’s. ‘Shall we?’ she asks, grinning at Serena’s dazed expression.
‘I’m staying with Fletch and Mr di Lucca tonight,’ Jason announces when they walk over to the nurses station hand in hand.
‘You- you are?’ Serena frowns, her pulse quickening. She feels Bernie grip her hand tighter.
‘Yes. So you and Bernie can have-’
‘Thank you, Jason,’ she says loudly. ‘Thank you,’ she mouths to Fletch, who winks and smiles cheekily, jerking his head towards the exit.
‘Oh, you might want this,’ he says, holding out the wrapped bottle.
‘Thanks,’ Serena smiles, taking it from him. ‘Not sure I need it though,’ she adds, glancing at Bernie. The lust in her eyes has tempered a little but is still, oh, so evident. Her tongue darts out to wet her lips, and Serena has to look away. ‘Right, we’ll, um, we’ll see you in the morning.’
‘Have a good night, ladies,’ Fletch grins.
‘Oh, we will,’ Bernie replies, her tone making Serena shiver. And then walk faster.
*
There’s no one else in the lift. As soon as the doors close Bernie presses her against the wall, renders her silent with a searing kiss before her lips trail along Serena’s jaw, down her neck, nose edging her collar aside. It’s all Serena can do to cling to her, to keep herself upright.
The onslaught is over much too soon; the lift never seems to move this fast when she’s running late. As it shudders to a halt Bernie raises her head, and Serena can’t help the whimper that escapes her throat when she moves away.
Still hand in hand they hurry to Serena’s car. She’s never been so glad for her designated space, never been so desperate to get away from here as quickly as possible. Never burned with such lust and desire as Bernie has awoken in her.
The key scrapes as she fights to find the ignition, finally turns it to start the engine. She grips the steering wheel tightly, knuckles turning white with the effort of not reaching for Bernie again.
Feeling bereft at the loss of contact Bernie places a hand on Serena’s thigh.
‘Don’t touch me,’ Serena warns. She can sense Bernie stiffen, her hand jerking away as if burned, and swiftly catches it, places it over her racing heart. ‘I need to get us home in one piece,’ she explains.
Bernie exhales, nods, squeezes Serena’s fingers and then clasps her hands tightly, places them firmly in her lap and stares straight ahead into the quickly dimming evening. Serena looks at her a moment longer then blinks, shakes her head slightly, and pulls away.
Bernie doesn’t look at her the entire journey, doesn’t open her mouth. Can’t. She’s trembling, fingers fidgeting. All she can smell is Serena, every breath testing her restraint. She doesn’t touch her when they get out, when they walk along the pavement side by side, when Serena’s keys jangle as she struggles to unlock her front door.
And then they’re inside, and the breath is forced from her body as she finds her back against the door, Serena kissing her as though her life depends on it.
It’s over before she has chance to respond. Serena quickly drops her bag, shrugs off her coat, slips off her shoes, looks at her expectantly. Bernie shakes herself from her daze and does the same, then takes Serena’s outstretched hand and allows herself to be led through the dark house. Serena’s skin feels electric against hers, every nerve ending in her fingers alight, alive in a way she never remembers feeling before.
By the time they reach the stairs she can see well enough not to stumble up them. She automatically notes which steps creak, then how many doors they pass before Serena opens one, tugs her inside and pushes it closed with Bernie against it.
Bernie’s breath stutters as both of Serena’s hands slip under her top and smooth across bare skin. She tips her head back against the hard wood, closes her eyes, fights to cling onto the last thread of control.
‘No interruptions,’ Serena murmurs. ‘No onlookers, no one to overhear. No reason to hold back.’
And there it goes. Bernie’s eyes fly open and her lips find Serena’s, desperate and greedy and bruising. Blindly she pushes away from the door, walks them both further into the room. Serena’s blouse is the first item to be carelessly dropped to the floor, swiftly followed by Bernie’s scrub top and then everything else in quick succession, a crumpled trail of fabric left in their wake.
They halt when Serena’s bare legs hit the mattress, stare wide-eyed at each other in the orangey glow from the streetlights outside.
‘Curtains?’ Serena breathes.
Bernie nods, skirts the bed and almost runs to the window, shutting out the world as Serena switches on a lamp, soft light flooding the room. She removes her jewellery, places it carefully on the bedside table, turns to find Bernie stood on the opposite side of the bed, gaze hungrily raking down her body.
Together they pull back the covers, meet in the centre of the mattress, noses almost touching as they reach for each other.
And then frantic hands are everywhere, desperate to feel every inch of skin all at once. Hot lips meet fiercely, over and over, separate to draw breath, meet again. Separate to voice moans and gasps as fingers stroke at pulse points, pinch at nipples, roam lower across waist and hip and thigh, rake through already damp curls.
‘Don’t you dare think of teasing me,’ Serena practically growls. ‘There’ll be plenty of time for that later.’
‘Wasn’t going to,’ Bernie replies, groaning at how wet Serena is. She brushes her clit once, twice, then plunges two fingers deep inside her.
Serena’s brain short-circuits. There’s nothing but white light and the roaring rush of blood and Bernie inside her.
And then she moves, so sharply she dislodges Bernie’s fingers and instantly feels empty.
‘Need to feel you,’ she growls. And with no hesitation, no warning, she’s inside her, the length of her fingers grazing her clit on the way in. The sound Bernie makes is like nothing she’s ever heard before, she feels like nothing she’s ever felt before, and Serena thinks she might come from it.
And then Bernie’s lips are on hers, Bernie’s fingers are curling inside her again, and it’s all so much, too much, not enough.
Bernie has never been loud during sex. Marcus – well, Marcus never really stood a chance of making her scream, did he? And with Alex being quiet was a necessity rather than a choice. But here, in Serena’s bed, she finds herself making noises she can’t quite believe are coming from herself they’re so unfamiliar. She can’t help herself, doesn’t want to, doesn’t care. And it feels so good to let go, to feel safe enough to let go.
Besides, Serena isn’t exactly quiet herself. Bernie suspected she might be rather vocal – Serena, who embraces everything so fully and wholeheartedly. But the reality of hearing her, of being the one causing her to make these sounds, of hearing her name falling from Serena’s lips, is far beyond anything she could have imagined.
She feels her orgasm rushing towards her shockingly fast, helpless to hold herself back, to wait for Serena. It’s all she can do to whisper her name in warning. She’s almost silent when she comes, a strangled sob tearing from her throat before she buries her face in Serena’s neck.
‘Bernie, oh darling,’ she whimpers.
Bernie can’t lift her head, instead presses open-mouthed kisses to Serena’s throat, her clavicle, tongue tracing her soft skin, tasting her sweat. She musters languid, heavy muscles and curls her fingers, pushes the heel of her hand against Serena’s clit, feels the roll of her hips stutter.
Given all her moans and gasps and cries, Serena’s orgasm is surprising in its quietness. Bernie perhaps expected a scream (not that she’s imagined this, of course. Well, not much, anyway. Certainly not almost every night since she left, since they kissed). Instead as Serena arches against her, as she contracts and flutters around Bernie’s fingers, there’s a sharp inhale, a low, ragged groan Bernie feels as much as hears, a sigh of her name like it’s something wonderful, magical.
When she manages to raise her head she finds Serena gazing at her like she’s the most precious thing in the universe, starry-eyed, like the proverbial cat who got the cream. ‘Was that alright?’ she murmurs.
‘Mm, couldn’t you tell?’ Bernie teases, biting her lip, peering at her from under her fringe.
Serena winds a hand into her hair, gently pulls her down and kisses her tenderly, humming with delight. Bernie settles against her; Serena’s skin is warm and soft against her cheek, her heart steady and comforting beneath her ear, her fingers soothing as they card through her tangled hair.
Bernie feels odd, frowns as she tries to work out why, what’s wrong in this sublime, magnificent, divine moment.
I’m happy, she realises.
That uncomfortable, unsettled feeling of not being right in her own skin, of not belonging, is gone for the first time in – well, ever.
She lifts her head, Serena’s hand sliding down to rest on her shoulder, gazes at her again.
‘I know I’ve got work to do,’ she begins, but Serena silences her with a soft kiss.
‘Later, darling,’ she promises. ‘For now I’d like to just bask, hm?’
Bernie smiles, nods, allows herself to be drawn back into Serena’s arms, allows the delicious happiness to wash over her. They lie wrapped in each other, sated and content, suffused with a glow not entirely from the lamplight, fingers idly tracing patterns across whatever bare skin they can reach. And then a loud rumble fills the room.
‘I’m sorry, was that thunder or your stomach?’ Serena smirks.
‘Might’ve been me,’ Bernie blushes.
‘Hungry?’
‘Haven’t exactly been eating well,’ Bernie admits.
‘Me neither. Takeaway?’
‘Excellent plan,’ Bernie smiles, shifting away from Serena and stretching. When she opens her eyes Serena’s still lying in the same position, eyes fixed on her. Bernie raises her eyebrows, tilts her head questioningly.
‘Just enjoying the view.’ She tears her gaze away and glances at the clock. ‘Too early for pyjamas?’
‘I don’t think so.’
Serena gracefully slips out from under the covers and stands, and now it’s Bernie who finds herself transfixed as she crosses the room, hips swaying gently, pulls two pairs of pyjamas out of a drawer and turns around. A smile teases her lips as she meets Bernie’s eye, walks back to sit on her side of the bed, reaches to caress her shoulder. Bernie props herself up on her elbow, stretches up, and Serena bends to meet her lips.
‘Come on then,’ she murmurs. ‘Before we both starve.’
Bernie pouts, looks up at her imploringly.
‘Don’t give me that look,’ Serena admonishes gently, but brushes their lips one more time. ‘We’ve got all night, darling,’ she says, voice low and sultry and full of promise. ‘I don’t want you passing out on me.’