Piper sighed. Alex cast a sideways glance at the young woman; the irresistible, well-read, spoiled, absolutely devastating woman. After the chanced meeting at Joe's Rough-And-Tumble-Red-Roofed-Inn (Joe was a special kind of character in Alex's life) both Piper and herself had been participating in this strange, intoxicating tango (or maybe salsa?) dance that not only seemed to stretch into interminable length, but also in its frustration. Never in her entire twenty-four years on this earth had she ever had to work so hard to gain such little ground with a woman. Never in her four years in this drug cartel business had she cared so deeply for what she at first perceived to be another drug mule for her professional and not-so-professional uses. Never in her entire history of seducing and claiming women as her own had she ever wanted –no maybe the word was needed-to know what a woman was thinking, or for that matter, sighing over.
"What's wrong, Pipes?"
Usually a usage of that moniker earned a goofy smile and maybe those stunning blue eyes turning to meet hers for a moment or two before withdrawing such hard-won attention to something not as deserving as Alex clearly was. There was no such laughter response, though she was rewarded with a stare fixed on her over a nearly empty wine glass (Piper's third, if she wasn't mistaken) which made Alex scoot maybe, maybe, another inch or two closer.
"Last night…"
Alex's ears perked and she stared earnestly at Piper's too beautiful face. Or maybe at her lips. Mostly at those lips.
"I was thinking about you."
Those perked ears were positively burning now, and somehow her body had led her to sit right beside Piper, whose head was thrown back, staring up at the sky through the skylight. Those eyes Alex craved maybe a bit too much were glazed over in deep thought. This was about as close to an admission of their imaginary dance around each other that she had heard the other girl speak since beginning the courtship (probably a stretch to call it that, but hey, Alex was a proud woman) exactly four months ago.
"It was...kind of dirty."
Piper refused to meet Alex's eyes even as the bespectacled girl made pleading faces to the other. Piper was more than aware that this was leading somewhere she had no experience in. Sure, there were the girls you heard about in school, the ones that exchanged romantic approaches with others, seemingly in their own little world even as everyone around them judged their choices so harshly. She had never been one for the 'other team' , though from the beginning, she had always suspected Alex, who had lavished on her all the attention, time, care, and other available resources played for the exact team that Piper was on. Something about that admission to herself, that this woman that did in fact traffic drugs for a living, disappeared for weeks on end without a word- except to call in and check as often as she possibly could under the pretense of checking up on Piper's job search-and did all sorts of things with all sorts of people was in fact interested in her was both intoxicating and alarming. Maybe interested was too mild a term. Alex begged-without-begging, if such a word existed. She had used every trick in her book, exhausted her tools in the last four months, Piper liked to think, and had to resort to gaining inch by inch of traction between them the old fashioned way. And that thought maybe most of all (in addition to the four glasses of rather amazing wine Alex brought her from France) was what made her pull her head back up and look at the now completely invested person beside her, hands flexing as if they wanted nothing more than to plunge themselves into her hair and tangle them unendingly together, eyes completely clear and sharply focused as if Piper was the most delicious thing she had ever seen, and those lips, not crooked in a lopsided grin as they almost always were, but rather wet by a very pink, very delicious looking tongue every few seconds. Piper paused. She hadn't even realized her eyes had travelled down to her lips, but there they sat for another few seconds as she grew aware of Alex's sudden proximity to her own.
"I had a dream. You were in it. And the way that you looked at me…it was kind of nasty. Kind of, trashy?"
Piper was astounded as these words fell from her own mouth. She prided herself so deeply on her vocabulary acquired from a lifetime of reading, and those words, those ones, were what she used to describe what she experienced last night? In Piper's book, those two words could not even begin to cover what happened to her last night in that romp of a fantasy. It wasn't even as if she had wanted it, it came to her in her deep sleep unbidden, unasked for, completely out of what she thought was nowhere.
"Does that mean it was a bad dream?"
She pulled her eyes away from the now fascinating wine glass to see what Alex was thinking. Piper wasn't exactly great at reading faces or discerning meaning from a person's eyes, but then again, she didn't have to be in order to understand what Alex's face spoke. Her pupils were impossibly large, a black hole swallowing entire oceans within those two perfect orbs, her breathing was slow, measured, almost as if she feared a full mouthful of air would drive her mad in those moments they did not speak.
"No, I just, all day today, I couldn't help my mind from going there. Back there, is a better way to say it, I suppose."
Of course, Alex was beside herself. Beside herself while beside Piper. She felt as if she were fourteen again, seeing a beautiful girl that she couldn't stand to not have at the very moment she spied her across the cafeteria. She knew then that her heart, even as it hurt her chest with how hard it beat, how fast it skipped was set on having this woman, sitting beside her on the couch, in all the ways she could possibly imagine, tonight. She couldn't even believe that Piper would dream of her, and was pleased down to the very roots of her soul that she had snuck into that wondrous girls head for the night and done things she could only describe in words like "trashy", "nasty", or "dirty", for those were not nearly verbose enough for Piper's everyday wordsmithing, and if somehow, through all this fumbling into territory that Alex knew naught of, she had somehow won over this angel, then she could waste not one more second.
"Piper, I want to make those kind of dreams real for you."
At least that line from Alex's experience, that one piece of information actually worked. For the first time in four months, she was in control instead of Piper leading them timidly along this narrow, well-kept path that Alex had never been down, and as she slid her hand underneath Piper's shirt to feel her smooth, soft, impossibly warm skin, she knew that this path they were now sprinting down was Alex's own.
Piper was in foreign territory at this point. As Alex led her down the hallway to the bed she had enjoyed rolling around in as Alex stared hungrily from the doorway half a dozen times on their separate, tense sleepovers, she was going somewhere she nothing about. She was afraid, but just as that thought flitted through her foggy mind, Alex squeezed her hand firmly, stopped her purposeful walk and turned around, eyes hungrier than any pair had ever been when looking at her.
"I'm going to take care of you, Pipes. I will always make you feel good."
She could say nothing as Alex wrapped those impossibly long and beautiful arms around her waist, touching her lips to Piper's so tenderly that all fears were waylaid in that moment. In that kiss, Alex wrote word for word the things she promised to Piper, what she would do, say and be to make her happy. She signed it by grabbing Piper's ass. It was all over once they hit the bedroom doorframe, clothing was off and flung to the far reaches of the room, catching on doorknobs and light switches alike. There was no parting what they fused together to become on Alex's bed. No dissolution of what they created, panting and screaming and cursing and writhing and moaning and whimpering and needing and wanting in the dead of night. Piper came seven times that night.
Seven times? Piper thought to herself before she slipped into darkness; now that's just excessive.
A/N: Sex Dreams from Lady Gaga's itunes-festival performance inspired this for the most part, well that and listening to it non-stop for a few days. First piece of anything I've written and finished since English 102 a few years ago in college, I recommend the song and show, excellent writing in both pieces.
-Also Gaga looks ridiculously like Nichols in the wig she performs the song in, realtalk.
