Note to Readers: The content of this chapter may be stretching ffnet's definition of an M rating just a little bit. Just a heads up. If that is not your thing, er, squint? ;)
vi.
Julie's alarm screams at her for ten minutes before she finally wakes up. She's in her own bed and her eyes are grainy from both tiredness and tears. She rolls over, shuts the noise off, sends a text message to Gill that says working from home this morning, in later, before rolling over and going right back to sleep.
When she wakes again, it's almost nine. Sun slants in through the windows and she watches the dust float through a beam, still not moving, although she does feel more rested now, like she hasn't in days. Like maybe now she can make decisions that aren't completely ill-advised.
She rises, makes tea, finds an old robe to wrap around herself and goes out to sit in the garden. She makes a phone call, sends another message to Gill: meeting with Karen Zalinski at 11, will keep you posted, gets one back with an update on the day so far, nothing else. She lights a cigarette - bought the pack on her way home last night, will have to toss it if she can't leave them alone after this morning (yet another thing she and Gill did together, giving up smoking, though they both cave on occasion) - and closes her eyes, taking a drag and letting the sun fall on her face, weak but warm.
Julie thinks about what she said the previous night, what they both said, and she sighs. It was a betrayal, what Gill did, and Julie thinks it will be some time before she can properly forgive that, but what Gill said was right too. She hadn't known how deep this ran for Julie, how personal it had come to feel, and how could she, when Julie refused to tell her? She regrets what she said, deeply - or perhaps more the way she chose to say it. There may well have come a time when Julie felt it was right to talk about Abigail, about some of the mistakes she made in her earlier relationships, but it definitely wasn't right to lay them at Gill's feet like that, and god, why had she chosen that moment to finally spit out that she loved Gill? How can she ever repair that, say it again without reminding Gill of that time she said it in anger, used it to hurt and manipulate? Why had she done that?
Julie's gut twists. Exhaustion, she wants to blame, forty-eight hours with only about six of them sleep, but that's not really an excuse, is it? The look on Gill's face after she said it, like she'd just been hit, that's going to stay in Julie's mind for a while, and it's not something she can take back.
She thinks about the other thing, about Gill saying that's not your fault, and she wonders about that, too.
It was cutting, with Abigail, and it had started long before Julie met her. She remembers it being one of the things that attracted her, perversely, that network of scars up her arms. Made her interesting, to Julie's young, stupid, privileged little mind - who was this woman, what sort of life had she led? One of the first things Julie had done after leaving her sheltered school life and moving out into the world had been to seek out people's stories. She knew the world she lived in was not perfect - not least because she'd never quite fit into it - knew that it was largely built on the backs of others, and she'd sought to distance herself from that, to learn about how other people lived and how the world treated them. Discovering the disparity between her life and others' and wanting to do her part to make a difference in that - protect and hold everyone equally accountable under the law - was one of the things that had drawn her to policing. But that went hand-in-hand with a far less admirable rescuer complex of Julie's that had persisted for many years after she joined the force, and Abigail, with her scarred arms and sad eyes and ratty blonde hair, had been exactly the sort of broken bird who appealed to that side of Julie.
It was a trainwreck from the very beginning. Abigail came after Helen, after Julie had pledged her commitment to her work and started wearing the rings, around the same time that Gill and Dave got serious. That alone, that reactionary urge she felt to find someone because Gill had, should have told Julie that it was a very bad idea, but she certainly hadn't developed that sort of self-awareness at that point in her life, and so she'd flung herself into her relationship with Abigail with everything she had, determined to know her, to love her, to rescue her from herself.
Painting and poetry were Abigail's things. No job and and a falling-down little flat that Julie moved into, renting the property she'd bought with her inheritance and letting the mortgage pay itself off while she shared two rooms with Abigail and drank wine out of coffee mugs, thudding around in Doc Martens and congratulating herself on how raw and real her life was. She thought that even when Abigail cried in the night and slipped off to the bathroom while Julie slept so there were fresh slashes on her arms in the morning; perhaps even especially then.
And it was real, Julie doesn't want to dismiss that. Abigail's pain was the product of very real trauma, and Julie knew that even then, but she'd cast herself as the stable saviour, and when time wore on and she couldn't ease Abigail's pain, things became rather too real very quickly.
She became a bad girlfriend, the kind who stopped being able to deal with the night-time tears and the bloody sink and so left the flat, went to the pub and went home with other people, usually women but occasionally men; became the kind of copper who stayed at work until all hours and then stumbled home pissed at four in the morning. They became the kind of couple who shouted unforgivable things at each other one minute then fucked the next, burying words under each other's skin with knees between thighs and fingers curling and tongues that tried to make up for the things they said.
And then one night Julie came home and found Abigail in the bathroom in a pool of her own blood. She called an ambulance and rode with her to the hospital, was there with her every second she was allowed, blaming herself, wondering if she could have done more, could have stopped this from happening. In one moment of both hysterical irrationality and acute self-realisation, she wondered if her latent feelings for Gill were what pushed her into this relationship in the first place, which made her feel even more guilty, because what damage had she done?
Their relationship didn't last long after that. Julie stuck it out for a while, until she was satisfied that Abigail wasn't going to try and hurt herself again and have no one there to find her, but after the danger had passed they parted ways. Julie stayed with Mary Jackson when she left, a few weeks on a sofa after giving notice to her tenants, because by then Gill and Dave were living together and Julie couldn't possibly share a roof with him. Gill never knew the extent of what that relationship had cost Julie; Julie couldn't tell her.
But that didn't make any of it Gill's fault, any more than Abigail's issues had been Julie's fault. She knows that now, really, with the benefit of years, so why had she brought it up like that last night? And how has she come to conflate Helen Bartlett's situation so tangibly with her own experience; has she fallen into the trap of casting herself as the valiant protector once again?
Julie doesn't know, and the fact that she doesn't is telling in itself. She's too tangled in this, too close to see, and it means that she needs to step back.
With that in mind, she finishes her cigarette, drains her tea. It's time that she showered and got on her way. She needs to eat something and there's nothing in the fridge, and of course, it would never do to be late for her appointment with Karen Zalinski.
oOo
"I'd like to get back to Duke Street, ma'am."
Once she's settled in the Assistant Chief Con's office, Julie gets right down to business. She knows that Karen Zalinski's not one for small talk, and indeed, she's sitting behind her desk looking at Julie quizzically. It feels rather like being sent to the headmistress's office, like Julie had been, once or twice, in her school days. All her teachers had been like Zalinski, too, tight posture and perfect pronunciation. Julie surreptitiously wipes her sweaty palms off on her trousers.
"Why?" Zalinski asks, tilting her head.
"The investigation is winding down. After Joe Bevan's confession yesterday and the list of names he supplied, I expect the process of identifying the victims will go much faster than we previously anticipated. Even with the extra personnel, DCI Murray is more than capable of overseeing the remainder of the case by herself. I think my time would be better served returning to my regular duties at Duke Street."
"All right," Karen Zalinski says, without preamble. Julie is astonished, tries to hide it and probably fails. Zalinski folds her hands on the desk. "That's your judgement call to make, and if you think you'd be better use to us back at Duke Street, I won't argue with that. The department can't afford to be without one of its Superintendents for much longer anyway. There is, however, the matter of Helen Bartlett being charged. The press needs to know about that."
Ah. Here is where it's going to get interesting. Julie steels herself, keeps her voice as measured as possible. "I'd appreciate it if DCI Murray could represent me at that press conference as well."
Zalinski's eyebrows lift just slightly. "You've been with me at all of the conferences to date, Julie. Don't you think it would be better for us to show a united front?"
Julie rakes her hair away from her face with her fingers. "Maybe, if it was a united front. But it isn't. I recommended from the very beginning that Helen Bartlett be treated as a witness, and yesterday the CPS undermined me by calling Gill and basing their decision on her opinion. I think this move is political, an attempt to placate the press and the public. But the truth is we failed Helen Bartlett, we failed her in 1977 when we didn't properly investigate Phil Cairns' statement, and we've failed her this time around as well, with the leak we couldn't stop. The CPS have made their decision, and I'll accept it, but I'll be damned if I'm going to stand behind you at a press conference and implicitly support it." It comes out far more forceful than Julie intended, especially that last bit, and Julie grimaces internally, leaning back in her chair with her hands gripping the armrests, bracing for the bollocking.
Zalinski leans back into her own chair, surveying Julie with an expression that makes her feel like she's being peeled apart from the inside. "This one's got to you, hasn't it?" she asks, after a time.
The question throws Julie, as does the lack of reprimand. She coughs out a laugh, barely stops herself from saying you don't know the half of it. "A bit, yes," is the answer she gives, congratulating herself on the understatement. "The way the media have painted her especially, demonising her queerness under the pretense of justice. Visited female prostitutes, as if that was even slightly relevant to the situation at hand."
Zalinski studies her for a few moments more, then nods. "My sister is gay," she says. "She said much the same thing." Julie nearly falls out of her chair, because Karen Zalinski hasn't shared a single piece of personal information with her in all the months they've known each other, not so much as a traffic was awful this morning, as if she misted into existence in her office each morning. Julie doesn't know quite how to respond. Thankfully, she doesn't have to, because Zalinski continues. "DCI Murray to attend the press conference, then. We all have the cases that get to us, Julie. Just don't make a habit of it."
Julie finds her hands are shaking again, but she manages to stutter out a response. "Thank you, ma'am, I won't."
oOo
By the time Julie emerges from the meeting, there's another message on her phone: Joe Bevan implicated himself in Sheila's murder, hurray! Julie smiles, and hits the button to dial back before she thinks about it, and it's only when the phone starts to ring that she remembers the weight in her gut, but by then it's too late to back out.
"Hi, Slap." Gill's voice is friendly enough, when she picks up, but there's a wary note in it that isn't usually present, and it makes Julie ache. She decides to keep things simple.
"Good news about Joe Bevan," she says, projecting positivity but wondering if she sounds a little queasy herself.
"Yeah," Gill agrees. "He had a few choice words for Rachel after he slipped up; he was really mad."
Julie laughs despite herself. "Well, good." Sobers a moment later. "Hey, I'm headed back to Duke Street. It's all yours from here on out. Thought it was probably time."
Gill takes a breath, then: "Okay," full of weight and understanding.
"You'll be doing the press conference with Karen Zalinski, too, about charging Helen. And Joe, I suppose."
"Okay."
And that's all Julie needs to say about work, and probably all she can say at all, at least right now. Can't just leave it at that, though.
"Can I come round to yours, later?"
Another beat of silence before Gill answers. "All right."
"Let me know when you get off?"
"I will."
"Okay, I'll see you tonight, then."
"See you."
Julie hangs up. Now, all she has to do is get through the day.
oOo
Julie thinks about seeing Gill all day. She returns to her office at Duke St and finalises the paperwork on the Bevan job that she should ostensibly have completed while 'working from home' that morning. She emails the necessary people to let them know she's back on the job, makes a few phone calls and catches up on everything that happened while she was out, all the while thinking of Gill, both aching for the chance to see her and dreading it, because what will she say? She keeps remembering the look on Gill's face before she left last night, and being terrified that she'll have to see that again.
Mixed feelings aside, when her phone finally pings with a message from Gill that says she's heading home now, Julie is glad. Anything has to be better than sitting here with only half her mind on her work. Julie finalises the task she's working on, packs up her things, and departs.
When she reaches Gill's, she finds the front door unlocked, lets herself in. "Hey," she calls, after she's locked the door behind her, wanting Gill to know it's her.
She finds Gill in the living room, sitting with a glass of wine and a magazine. She lays them down on the coffee table when Julie enters the room. The magazine cover is curled back, but a full-page advertisement of a woman with pouty scarlet lips is visible - a glossy, and that tells Julie that Gill's been just as preoccupied as she has, choosing to read something mindless rather than the periodicals she's otherwise fond of.
"Hey," Julie says again, quietly, finding that she's come to a stop in the middle of the room.
"Hi," Gill replies, and it's not a smile she gives in greeting but it's not the look from last night, either. It's something tentative, questioning. Open, or at least willing to be.
But Julie's standing in her house, so it's up to her to make the opening parley. "I'm sorry," she says, and she's never meant anything more in her life. "Sorry for what I said, for the way I said it. Everything, really. You're right, it's not fair to keep things from you and then throw them at you like that, and I'm not sure how I can make up for that, but I hope you'll let me try."
Gill is silent for a time, and when she speaks, it isn't really a response to Julie's apology. "I did hesitate, you know, when the CPS rang me. I want you to know that. For a few seconds, I hesitated. But I wouldn't have, if it hadn't been you. I wouldn't have thought twice about giving them my opinion if I thought some other super was off the mark, and that's why I did it, in the end. I don't know if I was right, god, I really don't, but I thought that if we couldn't agree, it probably should go to trial. I still think that. I thought since we said we wouldn't let us get in the way of work, I should do whatever I would do. But that was never going to work, was it? Maybe not acknowledging that was where we really went wrong." By the time she finishes speaking, her eyes have slid away from Julie's, panned across the room. She's not looking at anything in particular; Julie can tell her gaze has turned inward, and Julie has been there herself enough times this week to know that it's not a happy place Gill's gone to.
That, more than anything, spurs Julie forward. She closes the distance between them, stands before Gill, reaches out to touch her cheek, waits for the gesture to pull Gill's gaze up to hers. "Did we really go so wrong?" she asks, when Gill's eyes meet hers.
"I don't know," Gill whispers. She's not crying but her voice is ragged like that, like she might, and in the next moment her eyes do turn watery, just enough to reflect the light. "I did, and you said, and what if it keeps happening? What if it happens too much, and it all turns to shit like...like it has before, and... I don't think I could do that, Julie, I don't think I could cope without you in my life."
Julie's heart aches, and the solid thing that's been in her gut all day turns hot, like fire. She sinks to her knees in front of Gill, takes both of her hands and grips them tightly. "You won't have to, Gill. Ever." Gill's eyes are focused somewhere above Julie's head again, though, so she pauses. "Look at me, please, Gill." She waits until Gill does before she continues. "I love you. I've loved you for half my life, long before I ever thought you'd love me back, long before I ever even hoped. Even if this does go wrong, if somewhere down the line we realise it isn't working the way it is, there is nothing you could ever say or do that would push me away. Nothing, all right?" Gill is crying now, properly, face turning pink and tears on her cheeks, but she nods. Doesn't say anything - can't, maybe - but she nods. "I love you," Julie repeats, just in case she missed it the first time.
"What about before?" Gill asks, eventually, voice small. "With Dave?"
It takes Julie a moment to sort through the shitstorm of problems included under the header of 'Dave' to connect Gill's words about losing her with the two years they spent hardly speaking, but when she does, Julie can't help but smile. Nearly laughs, actually, because for such a terrifyingly intelligent woman, Gill can be an idiot sometimes. "I didn't go away, did I, you daft cow? I was just waiting, waiting for you to be ready to admit what you needed to. Waiting for you to ask for help, and I was there when you did, wasn't I?"
"Yeah," Gill agrees, with a little smile of her own now, "you were."
Julie squeezes Gill's hands, then lets her grip loosen a little, enough to trace her thumbs across Gill's palms, drawing circles. "I hope you can forgive me for what I said. And if you want me to explain about Abigail sometime - not now, but sometime - I will."
"It's okay," Gill breathes. "I just wish I'd known, been there to help you. I don't know how you do it, hold so much inside you like that. You do it at work, too. It must be a jungle in there." She slips one hand free, reaches up to touch Julie's temple, push her hair away from her face.
"Sometimes, yeah," Julie says, with a smile that's a little sad. "Get lost in here, I'm not careful. That's why it's so good to have you. You're really good at cutting through."
"I forgive you," Gill says, fingers against Julie's cheek. "I hope you can forgive me, too."
"I already have," Julie replies, and is surprised to find that it's true. This morning, she wasn't ready to, but at some point during the day she's turned a corner, set it aside. Perhaps when Karen Zalinski agreed to let her. "It's the job. We've never let it come between us before, and I'm not about to start letting it now."
"Good," Gill answers, voice adamant. "I'm glad we didn't manage to mess that up completely, inside a week. Now," she gives Julie's fingers a tug, smiles. "Come up here a bit, because I want to kiss you."
Julie does. Lifts her backside off her heels and stretches up, and Gill's fingers rake back through her hair as she tugs Julie closer, then her lips are on Julie's and they taste of salt, but she's not crying anymore. Julie's free hand falls onto Gill's thigh, her other still tangled up with Gill's, holding on tight.
"Love you," Gill whispers when it's over.
"Love you back," Julie replies, and then they look at each other, and Julie's hand slides over Gill's thigh, and suddenly all of that truncated desire from two nights ago comes flooding back. "God, I want you," she whispers, burning with it.
"Yes," Gill replies in a breath, tugging Julie in for another kiss, only this time it's demanding, Gill's fingers fisting in Julie's hair and her teeth nipping Julie's bottom lip. Julie growls into it, disentangling her hand from Gill's and sliding both of them around her hips to tug her forward on the settee cushion, skirt rucking up with the motion and Julie helping it along, pushing it back far enough to nudge Gill's knees apart and crawl between them. Julie pulls her even closer, close enough that she can use this angle she's created to stretch her chin up and press her lips against Gill's jaw, then her throat, mouthing along the lines of her to the place where her collarbone meets the edge of her top. She's still wearing her work jacket and Julie divests her of that, pushing it down off her shoulders and helping her shrug it off, then nuzzling her face into Gill's breasts as Gill's fingers tangle in her hair again, pressing kisses there, too, open-mouthed through the fabric of her top.
Julie's hand is snug against the curve of Gill's back, holding her close. She doesn't want to let her go, not for a second, not even long enough to make it to the bedroom. Her mouth moves up again, finding Gill's skin, kissing her chest and tugging her top down enough to mouth along the edge of her bra. Gill is making noises, urging and appreciative, and Julie doesn't want them to stop. She lifts her head a moment later, though, looks up at Gill, cheeks flushed with heat and eyes full of need.
"Are we too old for me to have you right here, like this?" Julie asks, sliding a hand over Gill's thigh again.
Gill laughs, though she sounds rather breathless. "I'm not, I'm sitting on a cushion. Hell on your knees, though."
"Hmm," Julie murmurs, sliding the tips of her fingers beneath Gill's skirt.
"Why don't you come up here?" Gill asks, giving Julie's hair a tug. "Want you in me, and I want you to kiss me while you fuck me."
"Not demanding at all, you," Julie murmurs, smiling, but she's already working her hands under Gill's skirt, pushing it up even further in the process, curling her fingers around the top of her stockings and tugging them off with Gill's help, taking the knickers with her as well and tossing all of it aside.
"Get my skirt off?" Gill asks, and Julie smiles again, feeling more predatory this time.
"No," she answers, and then she's pressing her hands against the settee cushions and pushing herself up, and yes, god, that was hell on her knees, actually, but it doesn't matter because a moment later she's settling onto the cushions, one knee either side of Gill's thigh, and yes, this is much better. Julie enjoys her new vantage, taller as usual, tangling her own fingers into Gill's hair and tugging her head back. She kisses Gill again, letting her other hand roam down to Gill's breasts, squeezing, then getting her thumb around the edge of Gill's top, tugging it down, pushing bra straps down off shoulders and pulling that down as well to expose her, cupping her breast and twisting a nipple between thumb and forefinger. Gill moans into Julie's mouth.
"Can't have you over the desk like I want," Julie murmurs against Gill's lips, letting her hand travel down over Gill's stomach to nudge in beneath the confines of her bunched-up skirt. "But I can have you right here, just like this." She presses her hand forward, cups Gill's mound, rocks there for a moment, watching Gill's eyelids flutter, the curve of her open mouth as she breathes a sigh. Julie gives Gill's hair a tug, traces a finger along her slit, feels Gill arch against her hand. God, this, the sight of her, buttoned-up together Gill, all dishevelled and wanting and writhing against her hand, this is all Julie wants from the world.
"Please," Gill breathes, "don't tease, not tonight."
"Wouldn't dream of it," Julie murmurs, smiling, using her fingers to spread Gill's wet, feeling out the shape of her. "Way I left you hanging the other night, think I owe you more than one." She mouths along Gill's jawline, up to nip at her earlobe, slips a finger into her cunt.
"Mm," Gill groans, gripping the edge of the settee with one hand and reaching for Julie with the other, fingers falling against her thigh and curling. Julie feels the blunt scrape of fingernails through her trousers. "More," Gill demands.
Julie chuckles against Gill's skin. "And you call me bossy." She tugs Gill's head back even further so she can mouth at the skin below her ear, so she can bite it ever so gently as she obliges Gill and adds a second finger, curling her thumb so the back of it will grind against Gill's clit, rocking back and forth, feeling the elastic of Gill's skirt pushing back against her hand with every thrust.
They both lose their words, then, Gill to rumbles and moans and Julie to concentration. She curls her fingers, scissors them, maintains her rhythm, mouth still moving over Gill's skin but watching her as well, watching the way her throat quivers as her breath turns ragged, the flicker of her eyelashes as her head pushes back, as Julie grips her hair even harder. She feels, too, feels Gill's thigh shaking between hers, feels that hot, slick cunt quivering around her fingers, and there is nothing, nothing more beautiful than watching this woman fall apart.
"Fuck," Julie hisses, finding her voice with difficulty, "you're fucking gorgeous, Gill." She increases her pace, sucks at Gill's throat, hums against her skin. "Come," she breathes into her ear. "Come for me. Want to see you. Want to feel you. Come for me, Gill."
And Gill gives a strangled cry, and then she does, shaking around Julie's fingers and pressing her head back into Julie's hand, which flattens immediately, still tangled up in hair but cradling the back of her skull now, holding her tight and riding her through it as her cheeks flood crimson and her jaw quivers and her legs tremble and jerk.
Julie brings her back slowly, letting her fingers slide out but continuing to stroke, letting her hand slip out of Gill's hair to cup the back of her neck, thumb tracing back and forth over throat and holding her, just holding her, until she opens her eyes. "Beautiful," Julie whispers when she does, smiling, leaning down to kiss Gill's mouth again. Gill smiles languorously, after, taking some time to recover her words.
"Now, I want you in my bed," she says when she does, and Julie lets her hand slide out from between Gill's legs. She kisses Gill again, and they don't move immediately, but when they do Julie helps Gill up onto legs that are satisfyingly shaky. Julie collects the discarded clothes while Gill rights the ones she's still wearing, and then they're moving toward the bedroom, Gill's fingers finding Julie's and tugging her along.
They're barely in the bedroom door when Gill turns. She takes the bundle of discarded clothes from Julie's hands and tosses them in the general direction of the hamper, then she's stepping right up into Julie's space and reaching for her collar. She doesn't speak, just looks up, gaze heated and adamant, and begins to pluck Julie's shirt buttons undone. Julie keeps the silence, watches Gill work, slightly stunned as always by just how it feels to be the subject of Gill Murray's intense concentration. By the time her shirt is unbuttoned, she feels bare already, but Gill surprises her when she doesn't push the shirt off. Instead, she grips the open edges and uses them to tug Julie forward, taking a step back herself, and another, until she's backed herself into the wall, pinning herself between it and Julie.
Julie doesn't know quite what Gill is going for, with this, but she reads a challenge in her eyes so she plays along, rises to it, reaching up and pressing her palms against the wall, caging Gill's shoulders. She smirks, because really this is not one of Gill's best laid plans, giving Julie the opportunity to loom over her like this.
"What happened to the bed?" she asks, letting the challenge carry into her voice, low and sultry.
Gill gives her own smirk in response. "Sod it." She slips her hands under Julie's shirt onto the bare skin at her sides, and adds, "Stay like that." Too late, Julie realises that she's been had, that this - her hands pressed against the wall, leaving her body open to all sorts of touches - must have been Gill's plan all along. Julie's smile turns long, twisting across her face as she concedes defeat to the superior player. Gill smiles back at her, smug as anything, sliding her fingers over Julie's skin. She draws circles on her sides, a feather-light touch that makes Julie's skin quiver, then she she reaches around, working her fingers up to unclasp Julie's bra, tracing the curve of it back around then sliding underneath to palm Julie's breasts, thumbs tracing over nipples and that look on her face again, that devouring concentration. Julie murmurs in appreciation, a purr that follows the tingle of sensation Gill's fingers create in a hot line straight to her cunt. Gill doesn't let up, pushes Julie's bra aside enough to slide in closer, lifting Julie's breasts and closing her mouth around one nipple, sucking and flicking with her tongue, and god, the sight of it. Julie's murmur becomes more of a growl, her fingers flex against the wall but stay there. She shifts on her heels, letting her thighs rub together to disperse some of the heat pooling in her.
"Jesus, Gill," Julie breathes, watching her as she turns her attention to the other breast. It's agonizing, not being able to touch her, just watching as Gill's tongue flicks out to drag over her pebbled nipple, as she wraps her lips around it and sucks. "Fucking hell." Julie shifts on her heels again, grunts, and Gill looks up at her and grins.
"More?" she asks.
"God, yes." She makes to move, thinking to drag Gill back to the bed, but Gill pins her with a look, and Julie freezes. Gill's hands travel over her torso again, down, fingers curling around Julie's belt and sliding it open, taking her time pulling leather through buckle. Julie growls, shifts her weight again, fingertips scraping against the wall.
Belt undone, Gill plucks open the button of Julie's trousers and pulls her zipper down, and then she's sinking, holding on to Julie's hips and dropping to her knees, still looking at Julie with that secret little smile. She tugs at Julie's trousers, loosening them around her hips, then her hand is sliding round to cup Julie's backside, pull her forward, and lips trail along the top of Julie's knickers before Gill looks up at her again.
"Right here," Gill whispers, looking hungry. "Want you right here, like this." She gives Julie's trousers another tug to give herself more access, then she's kissing her right through her knickers. Her mouth is open, jaw working, and Julie can feel Gill's tongue moulding to the shape of her, and god, god, it feels so good, but it's not enough.
"Get these off me," Julie whispers. Begs. "Please. Need to feel your mouth on me. Properly. Please."
Gill looks up, smiles. "I could say no; I'm sure I could get you off just like this." She presses her mouth into Julie's mound again, sucks her through the damp fabric. Julie's heel twitches against the carpet. "But you did ask nicely, didn't you?" Gill adds. She lets her hands slide over Julie's legs, cupping her calves on the way down until she reaches her feet. Lifts one up, tugging the short stocking off Julie's foot, then sets it back down and removes the other, then she's working Julie's trousers down and they do the dance again, leaving Julie in her knickers and half- removed top. Gill's hands trail up over the backs of Julie's thighs again, cup her arse, fingers sliding up beneath her knickers. She pulls Julie's hips forward, pressing a kiss against the right side of her pelvis, then she's mouthing along the waistband of knickers again, and Julie watches as she pulls back, tugging the elasticated band away with her teeth.
"Please," Julie begs again, almost sick with need, and Gill lets the elastic flick back against Julie's skin, chuckles.
"All right," she breathes, finally, and tugs Julie's knickers down.
She doesn't waste time, then. Shuffles forward a little, positioning herself, and then her hands cup Julie's arse again and pull her in, and then Gill's mouth is on her cunt. She sucks, licks, and Julie's eyes close and her head falls back, but only for a moment, because she wants to see this, doesn't want to miss a single second of it, Gill in this position of worship. It's glorious, the view, Gill's mouth on her, eyelids downcast in focus, her hair all mussed from earlier. Julie can feel it, too, Gill's hair tickling her thighs, hands squeezing the cheeks of her arse, and her mouth, oh fuck, her mouth. She sucks at Julie's folds, lathes her tongue over the apex of Julie's thigh, nuzzles in so the tip of her nose is alongside Julie's clit, and then her tongue is spreading Julie apart and sliding into her cunt, curling up into her and pumping in and out.
"Fuck," Julie whispers, pressing herself closer, pushing against Gill's mouth. "God, yes, just like that." She wants to let go of the wall, wants to bury her fingers in Gill's hair and pull her in, wants to fuck herself against Gill's face until everything falls apart, but she doesn't, leaves her hands against the wall like she was told, feels her fingernails scrape against it, hips thrusting, every inch of her burning up as Gill's tongue fucks her in the same articulate way it does everything else.
"God, Gill," she breathes again, barely able to speak. Her voice is gravel, smoke, ragged and dry. "Your fingers. Give me your fingers."
Gill complies. One hand lets go of Julie's arse and slides around, comes up beneath her, and Gill's mouth moves up as she slides two fingers into Julie, curling them in as her lips settle over Julie's clit, tongue coming up underneath and sucking, sucking as her fingers push in deep.
"Fuck," Julie hisses again, grinding on her, thighs burning but it's nothing, nothing at all compared to the heat of Gill's mouth on her, to her fingers in her, curling and twisting, and she's rising, rising, hissing at Gill not to stop, just don't stop, fuck. Gill doesn't let up, increases her pace and the pressure of her lips. Julie whines, hips jerking, and then she breaks, flinging her head back as she flies apart, shattering into a million pieces and staying there, somewhere else entirely, riding wave after wave until she finally comes crashing back into her body, weak in the knees and leaning hard against the wall, looking down at Gill again, who is still there, lapping at her in the aftermath of worship, smiling up with her eyes.
"Gill, god, fuck," she breathes, but she can't stand any longer, not for another minute. She lets go of the wall, reaches down for Gill and waits for her to grab her hands, then she's pulling them back and they're tumbling onto the bed, both of them breathless and exhausted.
It doesn't last for long, though. Julie becomes aware that they're still half-clothed, and suddenly she wants nothing between them. She rises up, tugs off her shirt and bra and goes to work on Gill, peeling skirt and top and underwear away until they're pressed together naked, breasts against each other and thighs tangled up. Gill makes a noise, a needy little whimper, and Julie pushes her onto her back, covers her, and the whimper comes again so Julie brushes the hair from her face, kisses her, covers her breast with a hand.
"Julie, yes," Gill breathes, arching against her, wrapping one hand around Julie's back and tangling the other in her hair.
Julie's mouth presses against Gill's throat again, her knee sliding up between Gill's grasping thighs, and then she's curling an arm around her and pulling her close, holding her tight and rocking her there, feeling Gill slick against her and grinding into it, gripping the back of her knee with one hand and stroking her with the other - breast, hip, everything she can reach. She kisses Gill hard, breathing into her mouth, and rocks, and soon Gill is shaking against her once again, quaking in her arms, and Julie licks the sweat from her throat and rides her through it, lets her catch her breath then pushes into her again, knowing she can take it, can make it.
She slides her hand down between them and slips a finger either side of Gill's clit, knowing she'll be sensitive but pushing her further, rocking her knee and letting the momentum push Gill against her fingers, and then she's there again, voice a strangled cry. Julie holds her even tighter, then, tiny and spent and broken, keeping up the motion until at last the whimpers fade away, and they're left tangled and bare.
"I love you," Julie whispers in the quiet, after, stroking a thumb over Gill's cheek. They're pink, her cheeks, her face sweat-damp and her hair all a tangle, but her eyes are warm, looking at Julie like there's nothing else in the world, and Julie doesn't think she's ever looked more beautiful. "I love you."
Saying it doesn't shake the earth, it turns out. Now that she has, it's obvious to Julie that it's the most natural thing in the world. It feels like breathing, like saying her name, and it's because, Julie realises, she's been saying it for years. She said it when she introduced Gill to her horse, when she put on the rings, she said it when she waited for Gill to wise up to Dave. She's said it with her hands, with her fingers and her tongue, so many times since this began. It's only the saying it with her voice that's new.
Gill reaches down, takes her hand, tangles their fingers together and pulls their hands up between their chests, so that Julie can feel Gill's heartbeat and Gill can feel hers. "I love you," she whispers back. That doesn't shatter the world either, Julie thinks, but it certainly fills it up. Makes it an easier, more beautiful place, the kind Julie never wants to leave.
Julie smiles, though, lets her lips curl into a cocky grin. "Of course you do, you dozy cow. Three orgasms? I think I love me, too."
Gill laughs, a long, hearty giggle that shakes her entire body, and pulls Julie even closer.
What happens after you get what you've always wanted? Julie wonders, returning to her thought from two days ago and answering it: this. The woman you love in your arms, laughing, holding onto you in the aftermath of a storm you've weathered together. It's not perfect; like everything else in life, making this work will take diligence, communication and compromise, but Julie knows it's worth the effort. Right here, in between Gill's thighs, in this space they've carved out for themselves away from all the noise of the world, this is where she wants to live.
Gill's thumb traces over hers. "Did you mean it, what you said earlier, about half your life?" Her head is nestled into the pillow now, lazy and sated, but her eyes are curious.
Julie smiles, sighs, because it's a complicated question. Once, being asked that would have sent her into a panic, but here and now she feels safe enough to attempt an answer. "Yes," she says, "in one way or another. It's not… I don't want you to think I spent my entire life pining, or spent every minute we were together secretly wanting you, but yes. There's been a space in here for you for a very long time, a place no one else could touch. It's changed its shape, over the years, but it's always been here." She glances down at their joined hands, uncurls her fingers and presses her palm against Gill's, sliding it down enough that their fingertips touch.
"For me, too," Gill whispers, and Julie looks back up at her. "All those years I called you instead of him, wanted you with me rather than anyone else. I think maybe I just didn't realise. How did it take me so long?"
"You're ridiculous," Julie murmurs, smiling, catching Gill's fingers and lifting her hand to press a kiss against her palm. "Ridiculous, useless straight girl, but it doesn't matter, because we were idiots then, and we aren't anymore." She kisses Gill's fingertips, one after the other, feels her shiver. "Is that my cue to turn you over again, or are you cold?"
Gill chuckles and drags a finger over Julie's bottom lip. "As enticing as you are, I don't think I could go again if I tried. Under the covers, I think."
"All right." It's a loss, when they disentangle themselves, but Julie's feeling the cold too, really. Takes herself off to the loo while Gill turns back the covers. She washes her hands, opens the bathroom door again, finds Gill already in the bed, half-covered, the duvet outlining the curve of her hip but the rest of her on display, turned toward Julie in invitation.
Julie pauses in the doorway, smiling at the sight. "What do you think they'd say, if they could see us now? Rachel, the lads, Kevin?"
Gill arches an eyebrow. "Well, Rachel would just be confused, poor lamb - she called you 'Mrs Dodson' today. The lads, who cares? And if you ever mention Kevin in my bedroom again, lady, it'll be the last time you see it."
Julie laughs. "All right, understood."
Gill lifts the bedcovers. "Now, stop asking stupid questions. Turn that light off, and come in here and kiss me."
Julie does.
~FIN~
Further Notes:
I would like to again acknowledge the role my fantastic friends/fellow fangirls played in making this story what it became. Thank you, kk, for all your beta effort, for the suggestions that have most certainly made this fic better and more complete. Thanks to sidewayswithanaubergine, for helping me distinguish between what an Australian thinks is British and what actually is, and for helping me add that Northern flavour and depict the region as accurately as possible. And to sophiagratia, my fantastic cheerleader, thank you so much for your early comments, for the headcanon emails and the comments all over the fic about wanting to kill me for giving you so many feels. You have no idea how motivating those were. Or, well, maybe you do, since here is the 30k of evidence, but yes.
I want to acknowledge here how much input soph had in the formation of headcanons that became the bits of story that have given this fic the texture it has. The flashback moments were added with her encouragement, and much of what happens in those interludes is the product of enthusiastic discussion. Some of the ideas she helped provide me with include pregnant!Gill, which I initially had trouble picturing, Julie Dodson the bad girlfriend in her youth, and also the Actual Nun with the rings as devotion to her work. There are more, I'm sure, ideas I would not have come up with if they had not come up in discussion, but mainly I want to emphasise that while I did put all of this into fic, the idea-generating phase was intensely collaborative, and this fic would not be half of what it is without that.
So thanks to you lovely ladies who helped me write something I'm quite proud of, and thank you, too, to the readers who have left comments/kudos/likes, etc. It is is very gratifying to know that people have enjoyed! :)