Her face was slack, mouth open, but her eyes were wild, even darker than normal, two black pits of desire. Feeling entirely pleased with themself, London took another noisy bite of the nectarine.
“Fuck,” Dahlia said. “London, fuck me.”
London didn’t move for a moment, chewing, letting the sound of Dahlia’s demand wash over them.
“London,” Dahlia said again. She grabbed the nectarine from their hand and chucked it at the wall. They heard it hit, first the closet and then the ground, with two dull thuds. “Fuck me now.” She licked her lips, and then slightly softer: “With your mouth.”
And now London was fully feral.
They kissed down her stomach, following the trail of the discarded nectarine, and as the sweetness of its juices melted with the salt of Dahlia’s skin, a delicious swirl on their tongue, London decided this was the best idea Dahlia had ever had. They were very grateful to be sleeping with a genius.
After they settled in between her legs, they paused, massaging Dahlia’s thigh. She was trembling.
“Hey,” London whispered, trying to cool their own mounting adrenaline. “You okay?”
“Nope,” she said, and London looked up to find her arm slung over her eyes again. “Not even a little bit.”
London frowned. “Do you want to stop?”
She shook her head vigorously underneath her arm.
London massaged her thigh a bit more.
“I need a verbal confirmation, Dahlia.”
She sighed dramatically.
“It’d be nice to see your face, too,” they ventured.
Her arm fell away, but her eyes remained focused on the ceiling.
“Can you kiss me?” she asked. London bolted up to comply.
“Sorry,” she said when they hovered over her mouth. She rolled her eyes a bit and made funny gestures with her hands that London saw out of the corner of their eyes. “I just . . . ” London waited for her to complete her thought, never taking their eyes from hers. “Feelings,” she eventually finished. And she sighed.
London kissed her lips, softly, with what they hoped was all the tenderness they felt for her right then. It was fascinating, watching her be messy and vulnerable like this. Understanding she didn’t have the right words, exactly, because sometimes there were no right words, but knowing that she was feeling something big, and stopping to recognize it. Dahlia was perhaps the most emotionally honest, perceptive person London had ever met, and it bruised their heart to know she didn’t think this was an admirable quality. London had never admired anyone more.
When you were around someone who felt everything, it made you feel like you could feel everything, too. Like the depths of the world were suddenly limitless.
“Okay.” Dahlia broke away, nodding. “I’m ready to be awed by your talents, or whatever.”
London smiled down at her. They kissed her one more time. And then they resumed their position between her legs, where they started with more soft kisses, pushing her legs up and apart further still, rubbing their thumbs along the tender creases of her thighs and her backside, before they used one hand to spread her lips and lick her where she deserved to be licked.
The whimpers she released made London less inhibited with their own moans, pressing close so she could feel the vibrations of their lips, their tongue on her most sensitive places, before starting a steady circular rhythm around her clit.
“London,” they heard her murmur.
They looked up at her then, never pausing the activity of their mouth, and saw her looking down at them, lazily fondling one of her breasts.
London maneuvered a finger inside her.
Dahlia’s head fell back, her eyes closing. “Can you do more this time?”
When London moved in a second finger, they felt something shift within her, somehow. Like she was loosening herself for them, inside and out.
“One more, maybe,” she breathed.
London had to lift their mouth, to make sure they were being careful with her.
“Tell me if it doesn’t feel okay,” they said, adjusting their fingers inside her to make way for a third. Dahlia’s eyes remained closed, but her mouth opened silently when London felt their way inside. They paused, waiting for her to adjust.
“Yeah,” she said breathlessly a moment later, nodding. “That’s good.”
With that confirmation, London’s tongue got back to work, and with a moan, Dahlia let herself go completely. She pushed her hips up at them, and London worked with her, to find the perfect rhythm of fingers, mouth, thrusts.