Miranda sat on Jack's bed, in her underwear, being nervous. But not too nervous. She wanted this badly. More than she'd wanted anything in a long time. Jack was looking at her with a small frown, and Miranda reached out and took her hand, rubbed her thumb over the back of it.
"Are you okay?" Jack asked lowly.
Miranda smiled.
"Yes. A little nervous. But more excited. Sort of giddy, really."
She looked over at Jack, wondering why exactly she seemed so hesitant, all of a sudden.
"You don't need, like, candles and rose petals and stuff?"
Miranda snorted and raised her eyebrows.
"Don't be silly. No, I just need you." It was a horribly cheesy thing to say, and she blushed, but it was true nevertheless.
Jack tried to hide her smile at it, but failed entirely.
"Fuck, why d'you have to say shit like that, now I'm kind of nervous, too."
Miranda inched closer.
"Just come here, okay?"
She kissed Jack's nose, then her lips.
"Do you have any idea how beautiful your eyes are?" Miranda asked, her fingers tracing the line of Jack's brow. "And your lips, god, your lips." Kissed her again, slowly, deeply.
Jack pulled her closer, let her hands run over Miranda's back, her sides, then bent down to kiss her throat, making Miranda gasp. Her fingers fumbled with the clasp of the other girl's bra, until Miranda gave an amused snort, bent her arms at a weird-looking angle and undid it herself.
"They're perfect, anyway, you don't need a bra," Jack muttered, a little flustered, looking down at Miranda's breasts. She cupped one, let her thumb circle over the quickly hardening nipple, then bent down to lick the other. Miranda squirmed against her, buried her fingers in Jack's hair, before she let herself be pushed back onto the bed.
Jack's fingers inched deeper gradually, mapping every part of her stomach with slow, circling movements of her fingertips, blunt nails scraping over her skin, sending shivers down Miranda's spine. Then they reached the hem of her underwear and Jack hesitated for a moment, making Miranda mutter "Oh, don't stop now!"
Jack chuckled, and Miranda closed her eyes when Jack cupped her through her underwear, rubbed her lightly through the material for a moment, before she pulled Miranda's panties off and placed her palm against her mound, stroked through curly dark hair, then moved lower. Miranda twitched when Jack's fingertips made contact with her clit, breathing faster, pushed her hips forward into the touch. Jack's fingers rubbed up and down slowly for a while, then she let the tip of one finger slip into Miranda, carefully, meeting with little resistance, just Miranda's breath hitched.
"I am hurting you?"
"No... no, that is... strange. Not bad."
Jack let her finger slip in all the way, then started moving in and out slowly, thumb rubbing Miranda's clit. After a brief moment of getting used to it, Miranda started moving in time, slow, shallow movements of her hips, breath labored, broken by small moans that made Jack increasingly horny. She moved faster, felt Miranda shudder and clench down on her finger, low cries spilling from her lips as she came. Jack let her fingers trail through the wetness for a moment, then removed her hand and bent over Miranda, kissed her deeply.
"Damn, that was... amazing," Miranda muttered, face flushed deeply.
"You're so fucking beautiful," Jack said, one hand on Miranda's breasts again.
"And you're not even naked yet, that isn't fair."
"It isn't?" Jack grinned.
"Definitely not."
Miranda tugged at the tank top, and Jack let it be pulled off her, cursing as Miranda's hands brushed over her newly-exposed nipples, fingers rubbing in small, concentric circles around them. She was shy at first, all tentative fingers, skimming over Jack's skin, undressing her slowly. But she grew bolder fast, to Jack's delight. Lips at her throat, travelling lower, while her hands were working their way up her thighs slowly. Jack looked down at her, the sight alone was hot enough to make her heart race, that pretty head moving down her body, tracing kisses along her skin, fingers starting to explore her. She kept watching until she couldn't keep her eyes open anymore, let her head sink back onto the pillow, panting, her fingers clenched in Miranda's hair, feeling her move beneath her hands, until all sensations coalesced into one, cresting and breaking.
When she opened her eyes again, Miranda looking down at her, a very pleased smile on her lips.
"Fuck, come here!" Jack muttered and surged up to kiss her hard, still feeling Miranda smile against her lips.
. . . . .
She couldn't remember a day in her life when she'd been happier than this. All afternoon, lying on Jack's bed, making out, talking about nothing much in between, exploring each other. Jack's taste on her lips, the way she felt, teeth against the skin of her neck, low laughter. Forgetting that she was stark naked after a while. Realizing that she was able to make Jack come, which was the most beautiful thing in the world. Jack's voice, low and a little hoarse in her ear, fingers in her hair. Just staring into Jack's eyes until she bumped Miranda's nose and then kissed her for a long time.
Miranda hadn't even realized how tense she'd been until the feeling was gone.
"You're thinking about something."
"I do that on occasion, yes."
"You think it's hot when you're clever, do you?" Jack bit her lower lip softly. "Well, it is."
"I just thought that I haven't been that relaxed in a long time."
Jack grinned.
"That's because you're finally doing something you like. Me."
Miranda snorted.
"Now look who thinks she's so witty! But yeah, you're right, I guess."
"Well, you can do me any time. I'm selfless like that."
"I bet you are!"
She let her fingers travel down Jack's stomach, slowly, watching her with a smile.
"I don't think I've ever wanted to spend so much time with anyone before," Jack said lowly.
"Really?"
"Yeah. I generally don't like being around people. Makes me feel on edge."
"Should I feel honored?"
"Yeah, you should." Jack smirked.
"Why me?" Miranda asked a moment later, feeling just a little self-conscious again.
"I don't know."
"Oh."
"Well, no. There's something about you that's... fuck. I don't know. Just right, okay? Makes me care about you. And it doesn't have much to do with how fucking hot you are, not that I'm sorry about that. But if I just wanted to fuck you, we wouldn't be having this conversation, and I should really just shut up now, before I say something even more stupid."
"That wasn't stupid," Miranda said lowly, feeling flushed, but smiling.
"Maybe it's the way you look when you're both pleased and embarrassed."
"Shut up."
There was a moment of silence, before Jack asked:
"What about me, though? What made you think 'I have to get me some of that', except for the fact that I'm hot as hell, too?"
Miranda was quiet for a while. Even though the question was casual, she felt that Jack deserved an honest answer. But honesty wasn't really a strength of hers.
"At first, I envied you your freedom," she said eventually, remembering what it had been about Jack that had caught her attention in the first place. "You looked so free. Like there was nothing in the world that would stop you from just doing your thing. Like you didn't care what anyone thought about you. And then there were your eyes." She stopped, feeling utterly silly. Jack just looked at her without saying anything, and eventually Miranda continued: "And you make me feel like I don't have to pretend anything around you. That I can be myself. And I'm not even sure who that is, really. But I want to find out. Here I am, naked in every possible way, and it's okay. I trust you." She shook her head. "That's all awfully self-centered, isn't it?"
"A little," Jack conceded with a smile. "But I don't mind. You give pretty speeches. I don't know about the being free part, though. It's true that I don't give a fuck, most of the time. But I'm not sure that makes me free."
Miranda moved closer, leaned against Jack, kissed her shoulder.
"Perhaps not. But that's what I thought. Anyway, all I know is I really like being here with you."
. . . . .
Miranda had to leave, eventually. But for once, she was barely even apprehensive. There was nothing her father could do to take this day away from her. She felt indomitable.
But when she came home, there was nothing. No accusations. No anger.
"You're late," he just said. "There's some leftover dinner in the refrigerator."
She stared at him.
"I've already eaten," she said after a moment. Which was true, they'd eventually gotten dressed very reluctantly and made a couple of sandwiches. In any case, saying that should not have made her blush the way it did.
"Did you have a nice day?" He looked up from the paper he was reading.
"I did."
Damn, he even smiled.
"Good. Look, Miranda, I may have overreacted yesterday. You are not a child anymore, I'll have to get used to that. But you'll have to understand that I was angry because I worry about you. I know that at your age, parents can feel – overbearing. I was young once, I remember what it was like. Let's forget yesterday's argument. I may not approve of the choices you're currently making, but I've realized I cannot make your decisions for you. And despite the things I've said in anger, I know you're very smart and mature and I will have to trust in your judgement."
Miranda stared at him, then just nodded and muttered "Okay". It all sounded very kind and honest, and Miranda wished she could have believed a word of it. But she had a feeling that there was more going on, and she couldn't shake it as she made her way up the stairs and into her room, where she found she'd been given back her phone. She thought about calling Jack or maybe Liara, but then decided against it. What would she have said? That her father had been too nice? Too apologetic? Instead she turned on her notebook, went online – her internet connection was back, too – and looked up something she'd meant to for a long time now.