A little thing I wanted to mention before you go on with this chapter - I just wanted to point out that I think that using crude language to describe the situation in a sex scene is both uncomfortable to read and basically just lazy writing, so don't expect that to come. That being said, this is just a quick little reminder that this story is M for a reason, I've been going pretty easy on the sex scenes so far but this one's not going to be quite as restrained.
Also, I had to cut this down. So there will be Jealous Lupin and a Jenny Introduction in the next chapter. I'd apologise, but this is over 5,000 words and I stayed up 'til four AM finishing it, so I'm not bloody going to.
Warnings for sex, language.
Homophobes beware: there be lesbian sex ahead.
The interpretations of the characters are mine, but the real ones are not.
Chapter 11: Still Waters
"Say, nine?" Bonnie seems elated that I've agreed to hook up with her tonight, and although I'm weirdly looking forward to it, I'm dreading it too. "You can stay over if you like. You know, if you're too tired to go back to yours." Her tone is dripping in innocence, but her foot (which had been casually stroking my calve) glides a little higher, brushing the inside of my thigh.
I jump so hard that my knees bang against the underside of the table, knocking my empty glass over with a dull 'thunk'. She smirks hard at me and I wince as my blood rushes to my head.
"Something wrong?" She asks sweetly, laughing hard when I splutter unintelligibly at her in response.
My embarrassment is interrupted by new-comers to the café, and I groan audibly when I spot who it is.
Sweating, covered in mud and still wearing their football uniforms, Finn and three of his friends strut in, a picture of adolescent masculinity. Bonnie's attention is drawn in their direction and I see her flush uncomfortably. Thankfully, we're sheltered from their view by our sheltered little booth. So long as she doesn't make me yelp again, we will go unnoticed.
"Well, speak of the devil and he doth appear," she grinds out between clenched teeth.
I place a hand on hers, willing her not to make a scene, "C'mon, Bonnie, we'll just wait 'till they leave, okay? Finish your Coke."
She doesn't look happy, but she resigns herself to her fate and we sit in a tense silence as Finn and his buddies walk right past us, unaware of our presence. I rub the spot between my eyebrows in distaste as they enter the booth behind us.
Over the past two months, my knowledge of the people at school has grown considerably, seeing as I've been grinding up against half of them at parties. Mostly, though, I'm aware of the hierarchy of the school's food chain. Footballers are at the top with each of their respective girlfriends. At the top of the pyramid, it was once Finn and Bonnie, an unstoppable force of attractiveness, witty intelligence and sheer social prowess. Between their beauty, their grades and their extra-curricular activities (parties, football games and Bonnie's science bollocks) they were the ultimate It Couple. After they split up, Bonnie realized that a big part of the reason she was accepted among the cheerleaders and athletes and popular kids was due to Finn. She stopped going to parties because she knew he'd be there, and I think it just reminded the rest of her friends that she is pretty much as geeky as they come. I mean, it was only really around Finn that she let her hair down, and now that she's avoiding him like the plague, she looks more up-tight than ever to her 'friends'.
I said she should sit with me at lunch, but she didn't want to make things awkward, after everything that happened with Lupin. She doesn't think she could spend more than a couple of hours in his company without having a nervous breakdown from the tension.
Unfortunately, stress and tension is all that awaits her in school these days, and even Ethel, one of her closest friends is acting weird with her.
I guess it's no wonder she needs a good fuck, with all that nervous energy rattling around her body.
The two guys with Finn are practically opposites in appearance: Shelby, whom I've only had the pleasure of speaking to once, and Manny, who I've spoken with many a time. He sits behind me in math class. Shelby is short, thin and wiry, with platinum blonde and grey eyes. His father is Polish, and his mother comes from Ooo, so he came out looking like a pixie, and acting like one as well. He's the kicker on the football team, and from what I've gleaned from conversations with Bonnie, he's having it off with Manny, though that's something that next to no-one knows. Manny, in comparison to Shelby –who, despite being a footballer is surprisingly prim – is a beast of a boy. Towering well above any student in school, with the broad chest and shoulders of a caveman, Manny is definitely one of the most intimidating people I've ever met, physically. Turns out he's a bit of a gentle giant, though, despite the shaggy hair and septum piercing. Personally, I think him and Shelby would make a really weird couple, but after mooning over Princess, I'm not really one to judge.
"C'mon, dude. Spill," I hear Manny demand, slapping a hand down on the counter to emphasize his point.
"You, know me. Never one to kiss and tell," Finn chuckles. I groan, already anticipating that this is a conversation we – especially Bonnie – shouldn't hear.
A bullish snort erupts from behind us. "Yeah, right. You went on and on for days after you fucked Bonnibel," Shelby says irritably.
Bonnie pales considerably and I mouth at her, "Do you want to leave?" hoping she does. But to my dismay she shakes her head, obviously wanting to hear what Lover Boy has to say.
"Bonnie was different," there's a slight edge to his voice that I've never heard before. "I loved her."
A sharp thrill of anger surges through me at that. If he loved her so much why did he cheat on her with Jenny, I think and from Bonnie's expression I'd say she's thinking the same.
"Yeah, yeah," Manny brushes the comment aside. "But did you do it?"
There's a pause before Finn answers, "Yeah, I did."
Bonnie and I share a look of confusion as Manny and Shelby whoop.
"Oh, my God, man! I can't believe she let you do her up the ass!"
The three of them are laughing, and it's too stark a contrast between the looks of disgust Bonnie and I are shooting at the table between us. She looks like she's either going to vomit or cry. Or both.
I reach for her hand and pull her out of her seat. I don't stop to check if Finn spots us or not, I just drag her behind me as I bulldoze my way out of the café.
When we're safely outside and on the pavement, it's only then that I realize we didn't pay for our meal. Shit.
It's eight o'clock and I'm still trying to decide what to wear tonight. Whether to go for straight out sex underwear, or wear something cute. I mean, I know the reason I'm going over there is to put out, but I don't know if I should dress that way. I'm perched on the edge of my bed, wrapped in a towel, with my hair already dried.
I'm so nervous. My hands are shaking and everything.
Eventually, I settle on my light blue girl boxers and my blue lace bra. Understated, cute, yet girly and alluring. I flush as I wonder whether she is doing this too, choosing her underwear carefully when she knows it's only going to get ripped off again.
I take less time and effort over choosing my clothes because I know, they're not going to be on for any length of time at all. I chuck on a pair of loose, grey skinny jeans, white tank and a red plaid shirt, just enough layers to keep me warm in the chill of the evening for the walk over.
It's eight, fifteen when I'm checking my reflection once more, putting in my tiny silver hooped earrings, sticking on my grey beanie and chucks, trying to ignore the imperfections. I realize that if I don't leave now, I'll never leave, and turn away.
A sullen looking boy opens the door just as I'm jogging into Bonnie's driveway. He has her colouring, and seems to have the same obsession with pink (wearing a fuchsia and white striped t-shirt and matching vans) with cute, ruffled, strawberry blonde hair.
"Are you Marceline?" He asks, standing on the porch.
I nod nervously, feeling oddly uneasy by the adolescent in front of me. I stop at the steps leading to her door, at eye-level with the kid due to his shorter stature.
"My sister's in the kitchen. If she asks, you didn't see me," the hand movement he makes along with his last statement is oddly reminiscent of Obi-Wan's famous 'droids' hand slide. It's enough to tip me off that Bonnie's whole family are geeks, though until this point I had never met any of her siblings.
"Sure thing, kiddo."
After he finishes sizing me up, we nod at each other briefly in mutual respect before we switch places, and I watch as he takes one last look at his house before running full pelt in the opposite direction. Weird.
"You never told me you had a brother," I say from behind her shoulder, surprising her in the kitchen. She's sitting in half-darkness studying her English notes fervently. I enjoy a sick sort of pleasure as she squeaks in surprise, clutching at her chest.
"Marceline! You scared the shit out of me, you nutcase!"
I grin at her, "I'm a ninja, what can I say?"
She huffs good-naturedly and shuts over her notebook, swiveling around in her chair to face me after catching her breath.
"Yeah, I've got a brother. Bruno. He's a good kid. Bit geeky."
"Says you."
"Shut it."
I grin at her nervously, and watch as she arranges her notes into a neat pile.
"Do you want a glass of wine? I thought we could maybe watch a movie."
Hang on. Movie? I realize it must be code for, 'go upstairs, wink, wink' and nod, "Sure, sounds good."
A little shiver ripples through me when her hip brushes mine as she struts past me, poking her head in her fridge. I hear the clatter and clunk of wine bottles and am instantly grateful that I will at least have something to calm me down.
"Red or white?"
"Red."
She goes about fixing two glasses, red and white, before handing me mine. "Come on, then."
Leaving her notes on the kitchen table, and first checking to see that the front door is locked, we head up the narrow staircase which leads to her bedroom. It's different to what it has been in the past few weeks while Bonnie was sick. The place is free of hankies and Popsicle wrappers and back to its usual, cluttered, pink self.
I sit on the floor at the foot of her bed automatically, where I always sat while she tutored me or she shagged Finn. It seems to amuse her, though, and she gives me her glass to hold while she puts in the movie. Though I groan aloud as Kristan Stewart's voice fills the room, which Bonnie plunges into near-darkness by turning out the main light.
"I had never given much thought to how I would die, but dying in the place of someone I love seems like a pretty good way to go."
"Oh, for fuck's sake, Princess. Why the hell are you subjecting me to this shit?" I whine as she slumps down beside me, plucking her wine from my hand.
"Because talking about it a few weeks ago made me want to watch it."
I groan again, irritated beyond belief. So much for being nervous about pleasing her. If there was ever going to be a film to turn me off, it'd be this one. I vow to myself to concentrate solely on the soundtrack and nothing more.
Needless to say, I've been ignoring the film almost completely. My focus has been on steadying my breathing, and figuring out what's going on. I kind of assumed that twenty minutes in Bonnie would be all over me, but she's just sat there, sipping her white wine and the movie's almost over. Or at least I'm pretty sure it is. The dance is how it ends, right? I don't really remember, only having seen it once when I was about fourteen and instantly having hated it.
I silently thank God as I'm proved right, watching with abject boredom as Muse plays over the credits. Bonnie stretches next to me and hums contentedly, and I have to force myself to behave. After all, I'm here to de-stress her. Sexually and otherwise, I guess.
"I forgot how good that film is," she comments, leaning on her bed as she turns to look at me.
I stare at her blankly, then blink as she bursts out laughing. "If you hated it so much, I'd have switched it off, Marceline."
My expression makes her laugh even harder, and I find myself sniggering along with her.
"You could have said that earlier," I snort.
She shrugs lightly, "Then I would have had to turn it off."
"Sneaky."
We stare at each other for a moment before she slides towards me, removing my half-empty wine glass from my grip. I study her features nervously as she hesitates, her breath ghosting across my neck and cheek.
Shivers roll up my neck as she slowly leans in, kissing the sharpest point of my jawline, and I audibly sigh as her lips part and she trails open mouthed pecks down my jugular. As she reaches my collarbone her tongue snakes out, and I feel her hand on my shoulder, holding me in place as she sucks – hard.
"Hnng," I grunt, "You're going to leave a mark."
She nips me with her teeth and I jump, but suddenly her face is beside me again, her usually light eyes dark, and smiling. "That's kind of the point."
I realize I'm blushing, a rabbit caught in the headlights.
"Are you okay?" Bonnie asks gently, a brief flash of concern gracing her features. "Marceline, you don't have to do this if you don't want t-mmf!"
I cut her off with a kiss, because I know if she gives me the opportunity to back out, I will. I want her. I want to feel her skin on mine. I just need to silence the guilty, sad little part of me which is screaming that I'm nothing more than a tool if I sleep with her. And to do that, I need to keep myself distracted.
The kiss is more than distracting enough, thankfully.
Somehow her hands find their way into my hair, removing my beanie, throwing it carelessly to the side. Then suddenly her nails are scraping against my scalp in time with the movement of her kiss and I bask in it. Just as I press my tongue to her lower lip, begging for access to her mouth, she breaks away from me, and I stare at her questioningly, wondering what I did wrong.
"We need music," she pants. "Get on the bed."
Usually, I'd tell her to fuck off for commanding me to do something, but I'm only too happy to comply, lifting myself from the foot of her bed onto the mattress while she scampers to her docking station.
Normally, I hate having sex with music playing. When you're as musically inclined as I am, it becomes incredibly distracting. And despite the posters on the walls of her bedroom, I fully expected something along the lines of Tell Me Something Good to blast out of her little pink dock. The ethereal sound of Michicant fills the air, and I suddenly realize how sexy Bon Iver can be. Bonnie grins at me as she returns, her hips swaying more than they usually would. I can't help but stare.
Standing at the foot of her bed, directly in front of me, I watch as she slowly lifts her t-shirt, revealing an expanse of tanned stomach, lightly toned muscle, and eventually a pale pink, polka-dot bra. Her hair comes out in a fluffy waterfall as she pulls the garment over her head, and I'm mesmerised as she tosses the white shirt to the side, one knee perched between my legs as I sit, stunned.
"I made you a playlist," she whispers, staring down at me.
"Thanks," I'm breathing heavily, dying to touch her, but afraid.
She slides forward, pressing her knee against the crotch of my jeans, so that my nose is pressed against the skin above her navel, between her bottom ribs. Understanding what she wants, I grip her hips to hold her still, and kiss her stomach. I feel her breathing catch in her chest above me, and experimentally press an open-mouthed kiss a little lower, dragging the flat of my tongue against her skin. It's enough to make her hands cup my face, and I repeat the action lower again, dipping my tongue into her navel. She tastes like salt and strawberries. The rumbling groan that escapes her amuses me, and I do it again, trying to hear it once more.
I squeak a little as she leans forward, using her weight to force me backwards, onto the blanket. Her stomach is still level with my mouth, and in this position, I realize how completely I'm at her mercy. She raises an eyebrow at me, daring me to move.
Deliberately moving slowly, I slip further down, risking giving myself early sex-hair. Thankfully she stays still, probably wondering what I'm up to. I take advantage of her stillness and half sit up once I reach the waistband of her jeans. As delicately as I can manage, I press the button loose and unzip her jeans. Hooking my thumbs in her belt loops, I kiss the lacy border at the top of her panties as my hands cup her hips and buttocks, using the gentle swell of her ass to work her jeans ever-downward.
I hear her groan, and smile against her skin as she bucks lightly.
"Let me on top?" I ask, raising my voice slightly because it's muffled in the position I'm in. I want her jeans off, and I can't do that while she's kneeling over me.
She must have a similar desire, because Bonnie rolls onto her side, and I take the opportunity to shuffle further up the bed, so I'm at the same height as her. I briefly hesitate, admiring her sleek, curved thighs, before sliding her jeans off the rest of the way, ungraciously chucking them behind me as I cup her ankles in my hands.
As the song fades from Bon Iver to something new, she sits up and stares at me. There's an intensity that kind of scares me in her gaze.
"You have too many clothes on."
"Huh?" When did you get so articulate, Marceline?
"C'mere," she beckons to me, and I crawl over her, so that I'm straddling her thin waist.
I watch as her hands go to the buttons of my shirt, popping them agonizingly slowly, one by one. She sits up slowly as she pushes the material down my shoulders till it's pooled at my elbows and we're nose to nose. I moan as she surges forward, lips on mine, and this time I don't need to ask for access to her mouth. Her tongue twines with mine, and I can taste the white wine she'd been drinking earlier. Due to the material restricting the movement of my arms, the most I can do is wrap them around her waist as she explores my mouth. Her hands are not quite so restricted, and they vary in their position. After starting off in my hair, they somehow make it to my breasts, and between the kneading motion of her hands and the feeling of her suckling lightly on my tongue I feel familiar warmth pooling in my lower stomach.
"Bonnie," I whimper hoarsely as she pulls away from me, pecking me once lightly on the lips.
I'm unable to restrain her as she lifts my arms above my head, removing my shirt completely, followed by my tank top. We share a glance as she lifts her palms to my bra-clad breasts. Slowly, she leans in, not kissing me, but hovering her lips over mine as she reaches around my ribs to unclip the clasp on my bra, our breath mingling as the garment falls from me.
As she glances down I blush heavily, attempting not to feel so exposed. Then suddenly her hands are on my bare flesh and I groan, wincing as she pinches my nipples roughly. The assault on my breasts continues while her lips return to my neck, licking and biting a litany of marks into my skin.
Her lips make their way to my ear and she traces the shell with her tongue, earning a violent shiver in return.
"Have you ever gone down on a girl before?" She whispers, emphasising her words with duel tweaks of my nipples.
I melt, feeling my ears and face burn. Oh, God. I don't think I can cope with this.
"N-No," I admit, my nails digging into the planes of her shoulder blades.
She kisses my ear once, twice, and I feel her smirk, "Perhaps a demonstration is in order, then."
Out of nowhere I'm getting flipped and I land on my back, lying stunned as Bonnie removes my jeans with slightly telling ease. I arch instinctively off the bed as she kisses up the inside of my bare thigh (thank God I shaved) and presses a light kiss to the steadily growing damp patch over my centre.
I mewl, and lift my hips to meet her mouth, groaning in disappointment as she moves away. It takes me a split second to realize that she's giving herself room to remove my boxers.
"Wait, Bonnie," I plead as she's pulling them down my thighs. She hesitates and blinks up at me, head tilted.
My breathing is shallow and I can feel a bead of sweat trickling between my breasts. I'm so nervous I can feel my legs twitching involuntarily.
"I'm not gonna hurt you," she whispers. "Please."
She looks so unbelievably pretty, mussed up with swollen lips and unusually dark eyes, I can't resist her. So I settle for pulling her in for a kiss as she slips my boxers past my knees. I kick, sending them away, and suddenly realize I'm naked, save for my bracelets.
Bonnie doesn't seem too bothered, sweetly kissing me, braced over me on her elbows. I attempt to control my breathing as she makes a trail down my body with her lips and tongue. I do well until she reaches my pelvic bone and my breathing hitches audibly.
"Shh, baby, it's okay," she murmurs against my skin and kisses her way between my legs. My thighs part instinctively and I groan as she kisses up the length of my opening, yelping when she digs her tongue between my slick folds.
I make a strangled noise at the sensation. Sure, I've had guys go down on me before, but not like this. This isn't guesswork; Bonnie knows exactly what she's doing and where-ohhh-she's doing it.
I writhe, unable to form proper speech other than a string of obscenities and I feel her hook her arm over my hips to keep me in place. I manage to restrain myself until her free hand joins her ministrations, rubbing a figure of 8 into my clitoris; as soon as she does that, I feel ecstasy sweep along my limbs from my centre outward. I shake with the aftershocks as she licks me gently, twitching with every stroke of her tongue, shivering when she presses the length of it into me, rocking in and out in time with my muscles as they spasm.
And then something incredible happens. As he removes her tongue from me and locks her lips around my clit, she slides two fingers into my entrance, curls them abruptly and hums. It's a low guttural hum and the vibrations of it send me over the edge again.
It's not exaggerating in the slightest to say that I see stars. White bursts of light in my vision, and I'm aware that I've pretty much just screamed her name.
It takes me a few seconds to come down fully, in which time she reappears in my line of vision, sweating and rubbing her aching jaw.
She flops beside me, and brushes my dark hair away from my face. It takes all of my effort to turn to her, and pull her closer to me. I kiss her chin and jawline, her lips, lick at the essence of myself in her mouth, and drag my teeth over her tongue.
"Marce," she gasps as I nip her earlobe, kissing down her hairline and deliberately marking her in the same place I know she left a hickey on me.
I have to stop, because my limbs feel like jelly, so we lie together, listening to the music which is still running in the background.
"Who is this?" I ask absently, playing with the bow on her bra.
"Imogen Heap."
It's pretty, airy and light music. Acapella.
Suddenly her voice joins the music, and I lie mesmerised.
"Spin me round again and rub my eyes, this can't be happening," she half whispers.
The music builds and I close my eyes as she sings, because I'm drowning in her and she's everywhere.
Before I can stop myself, tears have escaped me, my eyes clenched shut and yet they still roll down my cheeks, dripping off the bridge of my nose into my hair. She doesn't notice and I'm grateful, because I can't stop.
When the music fades to nothing I nuzzle closer to her, pressing my lips to her shoulder to hide my red eyes. "Can I try something?"
She nods silently, and I sit up, pulling her with me, and kiss her quickly as a distraction while I remove her bra. My fingers stumble over the clip, but it slips off easily enough between us and I cup her breasts in my hands, feeling the weight and softness and shape of them. Rolling her nipples between my thumbs and forefingers, I bite her lip and feel them stiffen in response.
"Kneel," I command, her lip still between my teeth.
She does as I bid, and I release her lip, kissing under her chin, "Take off your panties."
It takes some rearranging but she manages to get them off, and I force her to sit back, legs spread, her chest falling and rising with her shallow breath. Soft, red-gold curls adorn the apex of her pelvis and I take a second to run my fingers through them, watching her shudder.
Without warning I pull her towards me, and lift my leg over the top of hers so I'm straddling one of her thighs, pressing my core against her leg and my own thigh against hers. She moans and I feel her nails dig into my shoulder, arching up into me. Slowly, I sit up straight and kneel with one knee on either side of her right leg, repositioning myself so I'm facing slightly right. She instinctively lifts her hips and in that moment our hot, wet centers touch. I go blind, light overtaking my vision as I moan and pull her left leg to my chest and hold it there, using it as leverage to thrust against her. She's panting violently as I continue to pin her beneath me, my hips working against hers in a way that I didn't know was possible. I watch as she arches and writhes, biting her lip and begging me not to stop.
As if I could stop.
"Bonnie - oh, God," I'm crying again, my face buried in her loose fall of hair.
I hear her moan my name and suddenly everything is sharper, hotter and I feel my orgasm consume me, and judging by the fact that she's biting my shoulder, her hips spasming violently, I think she's sinking into the depths of one herself.
As we ride it out together, her lips somehow find mine, hot and slow.
And then it's over, and I untangle us gently, unable to really peel myself from her, eventually giving up and letting my weight rest on her.
I sigh contentedly, exhausted, "I love you."
There's a silence and I realize the reason it sounds so stark is that the playlist has ended.
"What?"
MWHAHAHAHA, I bet you hate me for that!
WELL I DON'T CARE! Sugar-Free Gum has just gone over 10,000 views!
So a cliffhanger is your present :D
The title is a reference to a poem by Sharon Olds, if you google it, you'll realize why the smut is bittersweet as fuck.
R&R and I will write more sexytimes. Oh, and also review if you want me to post the playlist Bonnie made for Marcie, because it's actually one of mine.
