You've never been in Elsa's bedroom before. It's similar to her guest room, except the bed is enormous and – actually, that's the only thing you notice because as soon as you've put the breaks on she's leaning down and taking your mouth again. It's so easy to lose yourself in her, in the way she tastes and smells.
The way she sighs into your mouth before slowly pulling away.
"You wanted to see me?" she asks, and you can't even really think of anything else, so you just nod. Your heart is thumping out of your chest, and your mouth is completely dry.
And then it's not, because Elsa's stepped back, grabbing the hem of her shirt and pulling it slowly over her head. She's so pale, and you watch taut muscles moving beneath her skin as she rids herself of the material. You think you whimper as she tosses it to the side, and she shoots you a bashful grin.
"You're so beautiful," you tell her, and the smile turns just a little softer. She's devastatingly beautiful, and you wonder briefly what it is about you that she likes, too. You're on such a different level to her. But there's no denying that she wants you, regardless of if you feel you're worthy of her. "Show me more?"
She nods, hands coming to the hem of her pants. They're shaking, but she still manages to get them off without much fuss. And then you're looking at her – all of her, save for what's being hidden by her bra and underwear. A hand comes to cover herself, just enough to indicate that she's just as nervous as you are.
You drink her in, cataloguing every freckle. She's got a birthmark on her stomach, just to the left and below her belly button. You kind of want to kiss it. And then your gaze drops a little to her legs, and your heart stutters for a moment because on her thighs... those are scars. Raised lines crossing her legs that you'd only ever notice if you were lucky enough to be in this position with her.
That's what she's hiding with her hands. She can't cover all of them, and you're not some scar fetishist but you kind of want to kiss them, too, because it's obvious she's unsure about showing them.
So swallowing, you give her another smile, lifting your hands to beckon her forward. "Come here, Els," you say softly, She shuffles forward, and you take her hands as soon as she gets close enough. You kiss the backs of her fingers before speaking again. "Can you help me?" You know she likes helping you with little things like this, and you want her to touch you again, even if it's just her fingertips grazing your skin as she removes your shirt. That, and she seems to like you telling her what to do. At least in this, she's giving you the chance to direct her, to tell her what you want and, should it come to it, what you don't want, without fear.
It's still enough to make you pause, make you pull back for a second. Elsa notices. Of course she does.
"Anna...?"
You take a breath. "I—" what do you say? You get stuck, the words freezing in your throat. You can see her. She's beautiful. How can you ask her for something that you're not willing to give yourself?
Not- you are willing to show her. Aren't you?
"Can... I leave my pants on?"
Elsa's entire face falls, and you look away. You've already upset her.
But then she does something unexpected. She gets down on the ground, sitting up on her knees so she's just a little shorter than you. You suck in a breath and it catches in your chest. Elsa leans forward, and she's got this tiny little encouraging smile on her face. She takes your hands in hers, threading your fingers together.
"Yeah," she says, kind of breathy. "As long as you're comfortable, Anna."
And then she leans down and places a kiss on your kneecap, over the fabric.
You choke.
It doesn't sway her. You can see her eyes flutter shut, hands squeezing just a little tighter as she gently moves up the top of your thigh. She gets about halfway before switching to your other leg.
And then she stops and looks up. "Anna, I—"
You cut her off, smashing your lips together. It's not soft or gentle or kind, but she moans into your mouth anyway, and you can hear yourself responding. She takes your bottom lip between your teeth, tugging gently before delving back into the kiss proper. You lean back, pulling her up with you. Elsa clambers to her feet slowly, and it doesn't even feel like you're in your chair even as she uses it to help push herself up, lips still interlocked.
Sometimes it's like she doesn't even notice it, and that's so fucking validating that it makes your heart ache a little. She makes you feel so... so normal.
And it's normal to want to look, and be looked at, in this moment. It's normal and, for you, right now... it's true.
So pulling away, you reach a hand up to cup her cheek as you try to maintain eye contact. "I w-want you to look at me, Elsa. All of me."
She chokes, nodding her head as she moves forward again. Her hands fall to your waist, and her mouth meets yours as she kisses you. It's almost too much to handle. When you break the kiss to take a breath, she uses the opportunity to rid you of your shirt, and vaguely you know that you have to move to the bed at some point, but it's kind of taken a backseat in the face of... this. Of Elsa, and of how much she just wants you.
"Tell me what to do," she says once the shirt's ripped away and her lips are meeting yours again and again. "Tell me what you want."
Your entire head is fuzzy and light. It feels like you're going to explode, or implode, if you have to wait any longer. You manage to stutter out a, "You, on the bed, now," during a brief respite between her assault on your lips. She moans, and almost makes to move when you stop her because even though you said 'now', you're actually not done kissing her. It takes a few more minutes before you smile and push her back, laughing because she looks completely trashed and is still the most beautiful person you've ever seen.
"Get on the bed, Els," you repeat, only half-surprised at how rough your voice is. She bites her lip and moves, leaving you enough space to get up. You only notice now that she's in her underthings and yet you've only managed to get rid of your shirt. Normally you'd do anything to keep your pants on – or at least, keep your legs hidden – and yet at the moment they're the most uncomfortable, stifling thing you could possibly have worn.
She sits there expectantly when you finally make it up, though her fingers clench like she's itching to touch you again. And you absolutely want that, but first...
"Help me with this, hey?"
You're in your pyjamas, so it's not like the pants are especially hard to take off. Just undo the drawstring and pull them down, right?
And Elsa reaches over to help before pausing. Your mind stutters to a stop when she looks at you, eyes half-lidded, and says, "Let me kiss you, Anna."
She couldn't mean...? But maybe she does. Or will. You nod, and she bends down. Her hands rest on the hem of your pants, but her lips start just below your bra. She kisses down your stomach, sighing when your hands rest on her head. She's got so much hair, and you let out a little snort. She looks up straight away, and you shake your head, still grinning.
"Gonna need a hair-tie," you tell her. It makes her smile, too, but she just says "later", a simple word but full of such promise that you can't help but shiver.
She gets back to work, dipping her tongue into your belly button with an impish grin. You blink a little with surprise because yeah, it's not like it's a dirty thing, but that's still kind of weird. Like, her tongue in your belly button shouldn't feel anything other than weird, but actually it kind of tickles and it's kind of hot, and it's kind of completely Elsa. She takes a moment just to trail her teeth gently over your skin down to the hem of your pants and suck a bruise into the freckled flesh while you still recover.
Then she pauses again, just looking up at you as though expecting you to change your mind. You can't meet her gaze.
"Anna—" she starts. Her thumbs rub little circles, about level with your belly button, and it gives you the courage you need to look at her. She's so open.
She leans down to kiss your skin again, before asking, "Anna, may I see you?"
You have to take a moment just to make sure your answer is actually what you want. It's a big enough step to be taking your pants off; with the way Elsa's looking at you, you know she wants to go further, explore deeper. She wants to look at you – all of you – and that thought is terrifying. Would Elsa... would she still like you? It had been so easy earlier to want to get rid of them, but now you have had a chance to think about it – or rather, overthink it.
But Elsa's not kissing you anymore. She's still rubbing her thumbs on your skin, looking directly at your face. You know that if you refuse her, she'll accept it. That she'll smile and probably kiss back up your body again and she won't make a big deal of it. That she just wants you to be comfortable, and she's letting you choose what that is for yourself.
But if you accept... if you say yes... you don't know what she'll do. You don't know what she'll do, but you know it's going to be amazing no matter what.
So, sucking in a breath, you nod.
There's a little bit of shuffling as she drags the material of your pants from under you, but her lips never leave your skin for longer than a few seconds. You can't feel it, but you can see it. She kisses your hips, the skin of your thighs, your knees. She kisses it all with the same devotion she's kissed the rest of you.
You wish you could feel it.
"You smell amazing," she says at some point, even though your underwear is still on. You can feel the way your face practically burns at the comment. When the pants are lost over the side of the bed, she begins kissing her way back up, pausing when she hits your navel. "You smell so fucking good."
The swear word, such a strange sound from her lips, makes you choke, and even though you've just told her what you want, you find yourself changing your mind. "I want to kiss you. Elsa, come here."
She doesn't even hesitate. She crawls up immediately, kissing you on the lips. Her breasts move against yours, and you let out a sharp gasp at the sensation. You want more. Anything she's willing to give. One of her hands rests at your side, and it takes a concerted effort to grab it and move it up to your chest. You're so sensitive there, and she's so gentle. Perhaps it helps that you're still wearing your bra, because it takes the edge off the intensity. She can press her hands into your chest, squeeze gently, and it doesn't make you wince.
"Elsa..." you sigh as you break the kiss. Her lips seem magnetically drawn to you, because they immediately latch to the side of your throat. You can feel her sucking softly, bringing the blood to the surface, and remembering her own love-bites and how she'd hidden them...
You want to do the same to her.
But first...
"Els-" you start to say, before being cut off with a moan as her hand slips below the bra. She's touching you, and you know by now it's because she's so fucking gentle that it feels so good. "Elsa..." you try again. "F-forgetting something?"
She pauses, lifting her head to look at you. Her expression is so wide and open – so vulnerable.
"A... con...dom...?" she asks as her brow furrows in confusion. You snort, though it's cut off pretty quick when she extricates her hand.
"No, goose. But wow, what a guess."
"A dental dam?" She shakes her head at herself as she says it, and you slide your fingers through her hair. "A hair tie?"
"Bingo. I- I've always been safe, though, if that makes a difference."
"We can skip that tonight, then," she says. And then she mumbles something that you miss, and you cock your head.
"Hmm?"
"I just said... I like it when you pull my hair."
Oh. Oh.
You just blink at her for a second before reaching down and gathering her hair into a high ponytail. It's so smooth in your hands, and when you finally have it all, you notice Elsa's breathing change.
"Like this?" you murmur, enraptured by her. And then you tug it, just a little, but it's more than enough. Elsa closes her eyes, moaning as she inhales. Her own hand clenches around nothing, and you want to see it again. Hear her again.
So you wrap the hair around your hand, ensuring it won't slip out before pulling it, harder than before. The noise Elsa makes is obscene, and now she's all arched above you, her chest mere inches away with her hands firmly planted on either side of your shoulders.
She's already kissed you, so why not return the favour?
Your lips land on her chest, above her bra, and she sobs out a sound that might have been a moan. The dual sensations of the pain and pleasure seem to be exactly what she wants, and you want to give it to her. Her head's thrown back, which gives you more room to pull, and her throat is on complete display.
There's no hesitation when your lips latch onto the pale skin, tongue and teeth working to mark her the same way it felt she marked you. The same way you've seen her be marked before. You seem to be doing everything right, and she doesn't even have to tell you what she wants.
You're in control, and it's that realisation that has your own head spinning. That she's given you control, and all the power that comes with that. It makes you kiss her harder, and when you finally pull back, there's already a reddish-blue mark forming. Something hot curls in your stomach, and you glance down because even though you can't feel it, you're leaking and Elsa has to know you are.
Not once in your life have you ever been this turned on.
But then your head empties; your grip tightens, and Elsa moans, and your gaze is planted firmly on your upper thigh because it's currently in between Elsa's and you hadn't even noticed her starting to grind into it.
Rude.
She makes up for it almost instantly when she gives a particularly loud moan, your name spilling from her lips. She sounds like she's almost about to break, and you absolutely want that to happen. Maybe you'd typically feel uncomfortable because it's your leg she's riding, but you don't because it's Elsa and she's seeking out pleasure from you and getting it.
And then she moans out your name again and you can't help pulling her hair, or the way your free hand darts down to rest on her hips, encouraging her to move harder, faster.
She doesn't hesitate.
"Fuck, Anna," she hisses – before groaning again because she had thrown her head forward, but your hand is still holding her hair back. Her eyes are clenched shut, hips moving faster and faster, and it gives you the opportunity to just watch as she comes completely undone. This is what you wanted – you wanted to see her – but it's so much more because you're feeling her, and smelling her, and experiencing her.
Her stomach tenses, her arms shaking as she presses into you further. You can see her hips are tilted forward, putting all the pressure where you know it's supposed to feel the best – but for whatever reason, she's still holding on. All you want to see is for her to come – to hit that peak because she deserves every bit of pleasure she can find, and you want to give her all the pleasure you can.
Your hand in her hair tightens, enough that her head is pulled completely back. You can see the bright bruise on her throat, and unbidden, your fingers clench against the skin of her hip.
"Ahhh... ngh Anna," she cries. "Please!"
Ohhh you like that. The way she says your name, the way she's asking for... something. More? Less?
"What do you want, Elsa?" you ask. "Tell me."
She lets out another moan, hips working just a little faster than before. After a few breathless moments, she finally regains enough control to say – to gasp – "H-harder!"
You can't ignore that, not when she's so desperate for some relief. You move your hand from her waist, letting your thumb rub into her stomach before bringing it up to her chest. It rests on her breast for a moment, over the bra as though you're not sure where it should be. When you finally do squeeze it, Elsa lets out such a raggedy groan you already want to hear it again. When your hand slides under the bra, rubbing and pinching her nipple, you're rewarded. You take as much hair as you can with your other hand, pulling from the roots and hoping you're giving Elsa what she wants.
It's enough. More than enough as she teeters on the edge and then falls off spectacularly. She comes with a cry, this low, throaty moan that cracks and chips around the edges. The strength in her arms fails and she falls forward, shaking and trembling.
You smile, relaxing your grip on her hair as soon as she topples over you. Your expression quickly turns to one of surprise as her lips seek out your skin, kissing your throat and cheeks and chin and lips. Anywhere she can reach.
But... didn't she just finish?
"What do you want?" she murmurs. Her eyes are shut and she's still trembling a little, her entire weight on you. Her hips jerk every so often, the aftershocks making her muscles twitch occasionally. She's not trying to lift herself up, either; instead, her hands move to trail over your waist, your stomach...
Your chest.
She doesn't go beneath the bra, not yet, but you still suck in a gasp because it feels so nice and it's so unexpected. Isn't she going to roll off you and go to sleep? Or go and take a shower?
"What do you want, Anna?"
Evidently not. Her lips finally move to your mouth proper, drawing out your tongue so you can explore her mouth. All of her is soft and warm, and maybe she thinks the same of you because the hand not on your chest comes up to rest against the side of your head. The hand that is on your chest moves in slow circles, applying such tiny amounts of pressure that sometimes you think you're imagining it.
She pulls back eventually, looking down at you. Her hand pauses, though it doesn't leave your chest, and she whispers, "Let me please you, Anna."
You swallow thickly. "I still haven't even seen all of you, yet," you tell her, voice no louder than hers. "Shouldn't... clothes...?" There's no need to be loud here. She smiles, still flushed and breathing heavily, and presses her nose into your cheek.
"We could do that. Or..."
"Or...?"
She kisses you once on the lips, direct and intense and leaving you a little breathless. She barely pulls away to answer you; you can feel her lips move against yours when she says, "Or you could show me what you look like when you come."
The way she says that is almost enough to make you finish then and there. As it is, the blood rushes to your head and you're pretty sure your heart rate has never been this high.
She wants you to orgasm. She wants to be the one to bring you to climax – and you don't even know if someone else can do that for you.
You want to find out.
"You'll h-have to t-take off my underwear..." you say, because you can't bring yourself to actually tell her to do what she wants. It's too scary. But this way, you can show her that you're willing to go as far as she wants. You're willing to try.
As always, though, Elsa surprises you.
Smiling, she kisses you again. Her mouth is hot against yours, soft lips kneading gently. Her hand runs along your stomach briefly before pausing for a moment on your ribs. That's not the surprise. The surprise is the words she utters once she pulls away, never breaking eye contact.
"Will I?"
And then her mouth falls to your chest, kissing the skin above your bra before letting her lips land on the fabric. Even through it, you can feel her – and you've never quite had the same confidence issues with your chest as you have with... other parts.
She moves to the other side, hands running along your skin until they're beneath you, short fingernails pressing little indents into your skin.
Oh, short fingernails. Wow you're a moron.
"Anna?" she asks, and it takes you a moment to figure out what she's actually asking. And then you do, and your breath catches again because she's entirely serious.
Swallowing, you nod your head. She smiles, all bright and warm, as she leans down to kiss you.
It seems like Elsa really, really likes kissing you. And you really like kissing her back. She's so soft and tender.
You don't even notice that she's unclasped your bra, so thoroughly distracted by her mouth, by the way she's sitting atop you. Not until her hands are retreating, pulling the clasp with her, is your attention drawn to it. It falls either side of your body, but the material still covers your chest as her hands abandon it to cup your face. She sighs into your mouth, and you feel like you could cry just from how caring she's being. How soft and tender and beautiful.
Her hands move, sliding down the sides of your neck to arrive at your shoulders. They gently push the straps of your bra down, and this is it. This is really it. Her mouth is still firmly planted on yours, and your eyes are shut anyway so all you can do is feel her.
She feels fucking amazing.
And then you feel fucking amazing because you've moved your arms so she can completely remove the bra. It gets tossed away somewhere and she finally breaks the kiss. She doesn't go straight for your chest, though; she doesn't even look at it yet. Perhaps you'd feel self-conscious, or anxious, in any other situation, but not here. Not here with Elsa because she's looking at you. She's looking into your eyes, cheeks pink and lips bruised and smiling.
Her gaze is so soft.
"Elsa..." you whisper. You can't get your voice to speak any louder. Her head tilts a fraction, a smile on her face, and you swallow. "Elsa... touch me..."
She bites her bottom lip as she reaches out a hand. You can't look at their destination because you're so invested in watching Elsa. In cataloguing everything she wants... and everything she wants to do for you.
Her hands don't touch your breasts.
They come to cradle your jaw again as she leans forward to kiss you. This time, it's not sweet and tender. This time, it's hot and messy as she drags her lips across yours, kisses your cheeks and chin and the space just below your left ear. Her position makes her weight balance on you, and you're already fairly sensitive. It's definitely not enough to come, but it's a start. Especially when her left hand moves down, leaving a burning trail as it comes to finally, finally touch you.
You bite back a moan, letting it resonate deep in your throat so that it doesn't come out in an embarrassing rush. Elsa smiles against your skin.
"You sound amazing, Anna," she murmurs, hand just beginning to massage. "Please, let me hear you..."
It's not like you have an aversion to making noise, it's just that it's never really something you've done. It always felt wrong, dirty. Obscene. Hans has never made you want to make noise.
But then Elsa actually pulls away to look at your, and there's actual pain knitted between her eyebrows as she says, as she begs, "Please let me hear you, Anna..."
Like she knew what you were thinking without you having to tell her.
She moves again once she's said that, but this time, her lips don't go back to yours. Not even close. This time, as she shuffles back to give herself some space, they land squarely on your collarbone. That, coupled with the way her hand squeezes just a little, is almost enough to make you moan.
Then, suddenly, Elsa is making an odd "thhbthbth" noise that has you laughing. She looks at you, wounded, but it doesn't really work given the numerous strands of hair all over her face and in her mouth.
"Should have gotten that tie," you comment lightly, brushing it away. Even though the absolute last thing you want her to do is move, you also want her to be as comfortable as you feel right now.
Elsa seems inclined to agree about the 'moving' thing. At least, in part. She gets up on her hands and knees and crawls forward. Her chest is level with your head when she leans forward, towards the bedside table. Her chest is right there. She looks at you and smirks.
And then she's pulling away, moving back to her original position and giving you room to breath. She's got a blue springy tie and sits up, pulling her hair from her face. When her arms lift up, the muscles of her biceps and her stomach move and flex. You remember that you're basically naked and your face heats up in a flush that's less aroused and actually a little embarrassed.
Elsa notices. Of course she does. Her smile, once a smirk, turns impossibly soft. She makes a point of looking at you, all of you, before saying, "You're beautiful, Anna."
You avert your eyes and bite your lip. It's not that you don't agree with her – you're a fairly nice looking person, all in all. It's just... compared to her, you don't feel it. Not in the same way. Your hair is too red, your face too freckled. Maybe she knows that's what you're thinking, because she leans down to kiss a welt into the side of your throat before speaking.
"You are so beautiful, Anna." Her lips move down, teeth scraping along your collarbone. You can feel her eyelashes flutter along your skin, and you can't help the way you shiver. "All of you."
And then she moves to your chest, kissing around the soft flesh of your nipple before taking it into her mouth.
Even if you wanted to, you couldn't possibly have held back your gasp. Elsa's hand comes up to the other side of your chest, and she's not even doing anything except gently caressing you, but it's so much better than when you do it yourself.
You let out a small, "Ah!" as her teeth graze your nipple, and your hands fly to her head as your push your chest up. With your eyes squeezed shut, you can't see her; but oh boy, you can feel her. Feel everything as she uses her teeth, her tongue – even her voice as she appreciates you.
It's almost a disappointment that she had to tie her hair back, because you'd love to run your hands through it once more. She swaps sides, and this time, she spends a moment just bringing the blood to the surface of the fair skin between your breasts, outside them, below them. And then she latches onto your nipple again, using that same pressure to make pleasure absolutely course through them.
Your eyes squeeze further as you throw your head back, the pleasure crescendoing, building higher and higher and Elsa's only encouraging you further, so focused on her task it's like the rest of the world doesn't exist.
You choke.
Tears fill and fall because no one's ever touched you like this before, and of course it would be Elsa, this amazing woman who's become your best friend. Of course it would be Elsa, this beautiful woman who cares so deeply for you. You don't know how deep it truly runs, and part of that is terrifying.
But you're not coming, even though you can feel yourself approach that edge, there's something holding you back. A chain-link fence that you can't cross, no matter how you throw yourself at it. Why aren't you? You can climax from this on your own, so with Elsa, it shouldn't make a difference, right? Her mouth feels wonderful against you, all hot and wet and she keeps letting out little noises, so she's obviously enjoying it. And you are, too! Right?
Right?
This is ridiculous. Unbidden, a laugh bursts from your mouth, but it's devoid of humour. Elsa pauses, and with your heart thumping the way it is, it's no wonder you mistook this nervousness, this 'butterflies-in-stomach' feeling for something else.
"Anna..." she says, moving back. You rush to reassure her.
"Elsa, it's- it's fine. You're great, I'm great. I just... have trouble finishing. It's- it isn't you, okay, you're really good—"
"Anna," she interrupts, gentle but stern. Her eyes are wide and earnest as she continues. "Anna... you don't need to come. I just... want you to feel good."
You feel your own expression soften, and she smiles. Then she moves up again, sitting high enough on your stomach that you can feel how wet she is. Automatically, your hands come to rest on her waist. Her hands remain on your chest, fingertips gently working your nipples as she leans down. For a second, it seems as though she's going to kiss your throat again, but she doesn't.
Instead, her lips come to rest next to your ear, and her hot breath washes over your skin as she speaks.
"You don't need to come..." she says quietly. "But I would, however, love to see you let it go."
And then your earlobe is between her teeth and she's groaning and her fingers pinch with just enough pressure that you don't even remember to be nervous or tense. It all hits you at once, and for a long moment you see nothing. Light flashes behind your eyelids. Your hearing muffles. Elsa moves above you. You can feel her lips, drawing you back into your body as you suck in a breath. As you settle back into yourself again, your hands clench her skin, fingertips digging in, and you hear Elsa moan again along with you. You're arching your chest to keep the sensations going as long as possible. She releases your ear and moves down to your chest, and the peak you just hit doesn't have a chance to wane as her lips take your nipple back into her mouth. It's hot and wet and Elsa's still kissing and moaning and it sounds like she's getting just as much from this than you are.
She's appreciating you, how you feel and sound in this moment, and another spike of pleasure rolls through you.
Eventually she moves away, smiling gently as her hands release your chest. The fire that courses through your blood has been tempered, just a fraction, and you suck in a breath. And then another, and another, and there's a ringing in your ears you hadn't noticed before and Elsa's climbing up and saying something but you can't hear her, ears full of cotton.
You can't hear her so you do the next best thing and kiss her, deeper than you've ever kissed anyone. She melts.
The kiss lasts until your ears clear and your heart slows, and then it keeps going because she deserves all the kisses you can give her.
But it turns softer, just as Elsa's wrapping her arms around you and holding you tight. Eventually the kisses stop altogether because you just want to focus on how she feels next to you. It feels so intimate.
You open your eyes and smile at her, and she's already looking at you. There's a peaceful look in her eyes that you've never seen before, and idly you notice her freckles, the hints of green in her irises. Her fingertips draw nonsense shapes into the skin of your shoulder, and you're just so comfortable. The desperation has vanished, but the passion is still there, smouldering in the pink of her face and the blood in your veins. You giggle like a schoolgirl, which is a ridiculous cliché but it's so true regardless, and Elsa laughs too. Her nose taps yours, and you lean forward again to kiss her because you're not sure how else to thank her.
But then you're distracted because the trails her fingers are leaving... they're not by accident, on a whim. Her motions are purposeful as her other hand joins in, imitating the movements on your stomach. She's still looking at you, still smiling softly as her hand moves down... down... down...
You swallow. And suck in a breath because Elsa's hand is going to a very specific place in particular and suddenly you're... you're really turned on. Blood rushes through your head and your limbs thrum with an energy you didn't know you had, and both of you turn your gaze down to her hand where it rests, just above the hem of your underwear.
"Anna... can I?" she asks, looking back at your face. Her hand hasn't moved any further, and the fact she's keeping it so still is enough to give you the courage you need to look at her. You trust her.
"I—" you suck in a breath. You know what your answer should be, you know what you want. But... "I don't have a lot of feeling there..."
It's hard to maintain eye contact with such a bald declaration, so you return your gaze to her hand instead. She moves it, but it's heading back up your body instead. It reaches your cheek and Elsa tilts your head towards her so she can see you. So you can see her.
"Anna... who said it was just for you?"
Oh god.
You suck in a breath. It whistles through your teeth and a hot flash fills your bones and Elsa's looking at you as serious as she ever has. She leans in and kisses you once, gentle and solid, before moving away.
"So... can I?"
It's impossible to refuse her now. You want to make her happy, and this will do that. Maybe. It's what she wants in this moment and you don't have the heart to refuse her; not when you want it too. So you give a small nod, and a small smile, and she just beams at you. Like you're a present for her to unwrap.
Perhaps you are.
Elsa gives you another kiss before pulling away. And she's still wearing her fucking bra, so you pull her back because you really, really want to see her. See all of her.
She laughs a little and helps you remove the garment, and you kind of regret telling her she can touch you because you really want to touch her. But then she's moving and you've lost your chance and it doesn't even matter anyway. She kisses around your stomach, sucking and nipping at your skin. It tickles, and you giggle. You can feel the way she smiles.
Not for long, though, because soon she moves lower, and you can't feel that. You can't feel the way she kisses the tops of your thighs, or the way she begins sliding your underwear down. You can't even help her.
But she pauses to look at you, and she's smiling so wide. She wants this. And you want her to want this, so you smile back. Maybe it's not quite as big, but it's there all the same.
And then your underwear comes off and she's throwing it to the side. She moves forward and pushes your legs a little, just so she can get in close. Elsa sucks in a breath and her eyes close, and she seems to just be savouring the scent of you. It's a sight to behold, and when she looks up at you and grins, wolfish and mischievous, irises blown wide, you realise just how true her words are.
This isn't just for you.
So you smile back at her, tilting your head. "Need an invitation?" you ask, and the bravado isn't even all that false. Elsa closes her eyes.
"Not at all," she says before leaning in.
There are no words to describe just how hot Elsa is, between your legs. She moans, and you almost think you could feel it. It's no surprise that just looking at her, obviously enjoying herself, is enough to get your blood pumping. You can't feel it, but it's always been more mental than physical for you anyway, and watching her... watching Elsa... it's more than enough.
It doesn't take long for you to hear her say other things, either. She moans every so often, but then you start making out actual words as she nuzzles in. Words about how good you taste, how sweet, and how wet you are. Words about how much Elsa loves doing this, being in this position, serving you.
"I wish you could just sit on my face," she murmurs into you, entirely unexpectedly. She's literally rubbing her face into the crook of your thigh like you're fucking catnip, and if you weren't caught off guard by what she just said, you might laugh again. Instead you feel a small pang because Elsa wants something that you're not sure you can deliver – even less sure about everything else so far. She's still rubbing her face into you and you can't help the words as they tumble out. It seems Elsa hadn't expected you to hear her.
"Why do you want me to sit on your face?"
Elsa pauses. She looks up at you, eyes wide, and you'd laugh in any other context. Right now, you can only stare at her because she's made a complete mess of her face and looks so fucking trashed. You watch as she swallows thickly, and she doesn't make eye contact. It's the same expression she had at the beginning, back on the couch right before you kissed.
Before you told her what to do.
"Elsa," you say, voice a little stronger. A little more commanding. "Why do you want me to sit on your face?"
Elsa closes her eyes and trembles, and when they reopen, they're glazed and glassy. She's looking at you, but she's not looking at you. She gapes for a moment, unable to answer, so you try one more time.
"Elsa, answer the question."
Her eyes roll into the back of her head, and she shudders with a choked gasp.
"I- I like it w-when you tell me what to do. When you... control me..."
Elsa's voice is so soft; for the first time that evening, she sounds... embarrassed.
You can't have that. Reaching down, you brush the backs of your fingers against her cheek. She leans forward, aching for contact.
"You... want to be under me."
Elsa nods and inhales through her nose.
"Trapped."
She shudders again.
"Taking care of me."
Elsa squeaks out an "mhm", with a little jerk of her head. It seems that she doesn't have the courage to actually speak, which is unfortunate.
But it's okay because your own confidence has kicked in, and your creativity. You want to try new things – this is new already, so why not throw in a little more? Especially if Elsa really, really likes it.
So, sucking in a breath, you say something you never thought you'd feel comfortable enough saying. Comfortable enough to ask someone to do.
"Take my leg," you say, eyes staring into Elsa's, "and move it over your shoulder. Same with the other one."
Elsa just looks at you for a second, wavering. Her eyes flicker between yours, you can see how turned on she is. Like this is doing it for her as much as for you. "Now, Elsa," you prompt when she doesn't move. She shudders and nods.
You can't feel her move your legs, but they're a dead weight – and she did want to be under you. Elsa wiggles, and when she realises that her movement is actually restricted, she lets out another little noise.
And then you reach down and grab her hair again because you know that she likes that, and you say, "Well?" and tug her hair. She dives right back in, moaning an "oh fuck," that shoots through you. You can't feel it, not in the typical way, but you know she's there; there's a sensation, deep in your belly; a fire, smouldering as she moves harder and harder against you.
She moans, and you see her hands move up your sides to grip your waist.
You can feel that. As much as you want to keep looking at her, you can't; your eyes close and you throw your head back because even though you can't feel it, your body still responds as though you can. It's not like you can rock your hips against her, but Elsa doesn't care. She just wants to taste you and...
Hear you.
Your free hand – the one not tugging on her hair – moves down. For a moment, you contemplate letting it rest on your breast, but it keeps moving of its own accord.
It lands on her hand, and she grabs it immediately. Your eyes open, and it's everything she's doing that pushes you, unexpectedly, over the edge. It's the way her eyes are on you, the way she moans and the sounds she makes when you pull her hair.
The way her hand squeezes yours, encouraging and soft.
You don't cry this time, even though you feel like you need to. Releasing her hair, you use your other hand to pull her up.
She tastes like you.
You kiss all around her face, cleaning her, appreciating her. Elsa laughs a little, self-conscious, and you push her down so she's lying on her back, looking up at you as you roll to half-cover her.
They aren't heavy kisses, but they're enough. Holding her face, you show your appreciation as you kiss away remnants of what she's just done, as your tongue licks inside her mouth and she tastes like you but also like her, and the thought makes you sigh helplessly.
Your hand moves, letting her hair out of its tie because you just really love her hair when it's out, and now that it's not going to get in the way, it's the perfect opportunity.
The band gets lost somewhere in the bedroom, and Elsa lets out a little giggle. It's cute and bashful, and you return her smile. Closing your eyes, you nestle into the crook of her shoulder, kissing her collarbone as your hand wanders down her chest. You really just want to touch her. Her breasts fill your hand, and she sighs, relaxing into it as you continue to kiss her. Your hand doesn't stay there long.
No, it moves even further down, tickling her belly button before pausing. Elsa pulls away just a little so she can look at you. There's no hesitation in her eyes – only concern, like she thinks you don't want to do this.
She couldn't be more wrong.
You touch her waist, fingers sliding under the band as you begin to push down her underwear. She bites her lip and you smile, and then you're both working to throw the offending garment away. Her legs fall open, just a little, and your hand drops a little lower. It brushes against the scars on her legs, and that thought from earlier – the one about maybe wanting to kiss them – is still there.
But it would be too much. Too soon. It seems that your hand – heck, even simply your presence – is enough as you slip against her, and Elsa lets out a small gasp.
She feels like you.
You bite your lip, watching everything she does in response to your fingers. You circle her clit with your middle finger, and Elsa lets out a choked gasp. Her hands come up to cup your face, and you can feel how she trembles. Her bottom lip quivers, too, like this is so much bigger than she'd thought it would be. Thought it could be.
"A-Anna..." she murmurs, voice shaky. You lean in to kiss her softly, briefly, as her hips roll against your hand. She tears her lips away so she can speak again. "Please, Anna," she says, voice breaking. "In-inside?"
Her soft pleas make you smile sympathetically, and really, who are you to refuse her? So you let your hand drop even lower, exploring everything as you kiss her lips. She tries to deepen it, press harder, but you refuse to be coaxed into it. You want to enjoy this, you want to take her slow.
She lets out a particularly heart-wrenching moan as your middle finger finally slides into her. She's so wet, and so hot, and you can feel how pent up she is, how she wants you to go harder, faster. It's obvious in the way she kisses you, in the way she moves. Her nipples press against you, and you realise she's completely under your control. Not only that, but she's in precisely the position she wants to be in. She wants to be under you, at your mercy. She wants your kisses and your fingers and anything you want to give her, and it's clear from her cries and the wild look in her eyes that she never expected it in the first place. That everything, from her position to the fact that it's you is so... much. So everything.
She's trembling, body pulled taut as you lean forward to nuzzle into her cheek. Your free hand moves up, fingers running gently through her hair, while the hand at her core begins to explore more fully. The pads of your fingers are slick as they flutter within her, and Elsa is all you can smell. You want to taste her the way she tasted you, to drink straight from her.
But before you can move, she's turned her head and used her own hands to hold you. Her eyes slip shut as she leans forward, and with a shaky breath, kisses you. Immediately, there's a change. The kiss becomes strong, fierce. Elsa's whole body quivers underneath you, hips rolling in time with her moans. Her fingernails dig into your cheeks for a moment, squeezing as you add a second finger. It makes her gasp, and then moan, all in one breath.
"Shh, Els," you murmur softly. "I've got you."
She chokes, body freezing for a moment before it relaxes once more into you. Her legs move, drawing up so that her feet are planted on the bed. It lets her hips roll against your gentle thrusts, meeting you partway.
"It's so much, Anna..." she says, voice low. Voice breaking.
You don't know what to say to that, don't even know if you should say anything, but Elsa's blinking at you like she needs to hear your voice. Like she needs some validation or acknowledgement of her words. So, you just say the first thing that comes to your head. "I know, Els. You're being so good..."
Her breath hitches and becomes shallow. Her chest barely moves as she stares at you. For a moment, it's almost like you've done something wrong. And then her cheeks colour bright pink and you realise it's taken her that long to process what you said in the first place.
That, and she likes it.
You press your face into the crook of her shoulder, fingers slowing down inside her because you want to savour this. She's so receptive to you, so open, and you just want it to continue forever.
"Such a good girl, Elsa," you murmur, eyes shut as you kiss bruise after bruise into her pale skin. She inhales and holds it, and you smile. The words come easier, like you don't even have to think about it. All you know is you want her undone, and she wants you to just keep talking. "So hot, so wet, all for me. You sound beautiful, Elsa, let me hear you."
She whimpers, and that's a start. Just a start because it makes something in your head tick over, leaving everything light and wonderful and clear.
"Come on, Elsa," you goad gently. "You want to be a good girl, don't you?" Another soft cry, louder and more wrecked than the first; heat flares in your belly and you've already come – twice! – but you know that there's definitely room for another one. Your thumb slips against her, and she inhales sharply before letting out a long, low groan in the back of her throat.
You have to pause a moment just to press your forehead into her throat, fighting down waves of crushing arousal. Your hand stills inside of her, fingers pressing gently against something so fucking soft it's unbelievable it's part of anyone at all. Elsa clenches around you, and you become aware of her hand as it brushes against your thumb.
She's trying to touch herself.
"Oh God Elsa," you say in one quick breath, looking up at her. She's already looking at you, and as her fingers begin to move, nudging your wrist. Her hips begin rolling, forcing your fingers to move.
You hold back.
"Ah, ah, ah..." you say, pressing your lips to her ear. It's not particularly angry or upset, just this... almost chiding way, like she's doing something she knows she shouldn't be. Elsa pauses and blinks up at you before pulling her hand away, a sheepish look on her face. She's all red and flushed, and some of it is definitely embarrassment. The rest of it seems to be unbridled arousal, and both probably stem from the fact she got caught. "This is my chance Elsa. My opportunity to explore you. It's your turn to let me."
She nods in agreement, her expression totally honest and eager to please.
"That's it," you say. "Hands at your side. Don't move them."
"Ngg yes m—"
You look at her curiously when she cuts herself off. She doesn't look at you, and the flush on her cheeks seems less aroused and more... something else. Something not good. So you don't draw attention to it. You just lean in to kiss her again, releasing her hand so she can follow your instruction.
She does so without hesitation.
"Good girl," you say, and maybe there's a little more pride in your tone than you would have expected – such a simple request, after all – but it's so clear how hard this is for her, how much she wants to touch herself, or maybe even touch you. That, and how much she wants to please you. Wants to follow your every command. The control you have is dizzying, and probably that's how Elsa feels at giving it up.
You slide two fingers back into her easily, swallowing her every gasp and moan as you lock lips once more. Her hands remain at her sides, though she's trembling like a leaf at the exertion of holding back. Elsa makes a sound deep in her throat.
"What do you want, Els?" you ask gently, fingers thrusting in slowly. The bed shifts, and when you glance down, you realise just how obscene it all is, at how much she's spread her legs and how hard she's moving against you.
It seems logical that her answer would be 'I want to come', but that isn't what she says. Elsa bites her bottom lip for a moment before summoning the willpower to turn her gaze on you.
"I want to touch you, Anna," she says, voice cracking. She's blinking rapidly, and you realise she's on the verge of tears. "It's so much. Please."
Swallowing, you nod. "Okay, Els."
She moans at those words, the loudest she's been yet, and her hands fly up to your head. You feel her fingers run through your hair, down your shoulders. Her lips search out yours, desperate, hips rolling as she begs you to go harder, faster, more. She manages to pull you closer until you're half-lying on her, and it seems like she needs the contact. More than your fingers and perhaps even more than your lips. She needs your warmth and your weight and you just want to make her happy.
She's not speaking, barely making any noise other than little gasps and chokes, until your thumb brushes against her clit once more.
"A-Anna," she says, eyes wild. Her eyebrows furrow, and you're not sure of the reason. Your fingers flutter inside of her, and she arches her back. "T-talk to m-me," she urges. There's a red mark on her lip from where she'd bitten it, and you realise she's close to tears again. "T-tell me you're h-here..."
"I'm here, Els," you say immediately. "I'm here. For you."
She's looking at you, nodding along until you get to the last two words. Then her face scrunches up again and oh god she's crying. Her hands cup your face but her eyes never leave yours. They're searching for something, and maybe she finds it. You feel her pull you close, sealing your lips in a damp kiss that tastes more like the salt of her tears than anything else now.
"I'm here," you repeat, nuzzling your nose into her cheek as your hand speeds up. You want her to find that pleasure because she's moments from either breaking down or coming completely undone.
"A-Anna—" she begs, helplessly. "Anna please, can I come?"
You move up to her mouth again, kissing little trails along her skin until you reach her lips. She can't kiss back, not easily, so you thrust a little harder as your lips press against the skin of her face. It's not really erotic, but you hope it's at least a little comforting.
"Please, Anna, please," she begs, blinking back tears. You return your thumb to her clit before finally answering her, repeating her own words back at her.
"Come on, Elsa," you say softly. "Let it go."
She does.
Elsa wails as she orgasms, hips rolling as the cries turn harsher, more guttural. You pull your fingers from her as she shudders, but it's obvious it's not just the orgasm when she curls up, turning her body towards you and lying almost foetal. She's crying real, horrid sobs, and you don't know what to do other than to hold her. It brings tears to your eyes because you wanted this to be enjoyable but she sounds like she's heartbroken and you don't know how to fix it.
So you hold her tight. You wipe your hand on the bedspread and pull her close. With a hand at the back of her head, you let her cry into your skin. Now when you shush her, it's because you're trying to calm her down, not bring her up; you hope she can tell the difference. The kisses you leave on her face – her forehead and cheeks and lips – are there to comfort, to remind her of what she seems to need: that you're here with her.
Eventually her tears cease. Your own have fallen, but they're tears for her, not yourself. She wipes her eyes and looks at you and you can see her heart break.
"Hey," you say softly, wiping her cheeks. You smile, but it's small, empathetic. "Are you okay?"
She swallows and nods. When she tries to speak, it's apparent that she can't find the words, and even if she could, the hoarseness of her voice tells you that she wouldn't be able to say them anyway. You shush her once more, and pull her close.
"I'm sorry, Elsa," you say. She shakes her head, slow and exhausted and maybe even sad. She's got a far off look in her eyes, and it takes a while to come back to here. To come back to you.
"N-no... It's- I'm okay," she says slowly, drawing out every single syllable and every single sound. You don't interrupt her; you can see in her eyes how she's working through it, figuring out what to say even as she begins to fade again. Not from consciousness, but rather into herself. "Promise. Was just... big."
You hold her face close to yours, touching foreheads. Maybe her legs are entwined with yours but you don't want to tear your eyes away to check. You're chest to chest and her arms are between you. She looks so young.
"Has that ever happened before?" you ask. You're not sure really what you're asking about specifically. If Elsa feels the same, she doesn't let on. Her fingertips run along your lips, your chin, and you know that now isn't a good time to be questioning her. This was intense and she needs care and comfort and she needs it from you.
Her mouth opens, just a little. Her breathing is shallow, and it takes the last of her strength to speak.
"H-hold me? Please?"
"I'll hold you forever, Elsa," you promise. Her eyes sparkle.
And then she's gone, tension slipping from her body. You lie there together, and she's still awake even if she isn't speaking – and honestly, she seemed so completely wrecked you're kind of surprised she's conscious. But she is, because her eyes are open. They're unseeing and unfocused, and it kind of feels like she's staring into you. Her fingers move slightly, flexing against your skin, running over your freckles and lips and chin. You use your position wrapped around her to touch along her back, feeling her spine and her shoulder blades. Just mindless exploration.
Eventually, after a long time, she blinks. Her eyes refocus and she shifts against you before pulling away a little. Her hand moves to brush your hair from your face, and you smile, even though she isn't. She doesn't seem upset anymore. It kind of feels like... like she's empty. Waiting to be filled with some other, new emotion.
"Elsa..." you say softly. There's a peace, not a passion, that's shared between you now. Whatever was going on in Elsa's mind has eased, and she doesn't look so blank now. Her entire face relaxes as she lifts a hand, cupping your cheek. You can't help the way you lean into it.
"Anna…" she responds, smiling faintly. And then she looks away, though you can't read her expression. "We should probably... get cleaned up..." she says after a few moments, and she actually sounds a little breathless. The thought of moving sounds terrible, and it must show on your face because suddenly she's smiling, a soft, tender expression. All for you. "Wait here."
You're about to argue when you realise you don't really want to. She moves from the bed and you watch unabashedly as she heads out the door and down the hallway. As soon as she's gone, though, you find yourself fading, absolutely exhausted. Your eyes close, and you fight to keep them open because you want Elsa to come back, but it's a battle you're swiftly losing.
But then she returns, dragging you back to consciousness as she helps you sit up, kneeling on the bed in front of you.
"Here, Anna, have some water."
She's pushing a glass into your hands, and you didn't notice until now how completely parched you are. It only takes a few seconds before it's all gone, and you feel a little more awake – enough to watch Elsa. Along with the water, she's also brought in some wet wipes. She takes your hand – the one that was inside her – and cleans it. When she's done, it feels clean, but it still smells like her. You sit up and grab a wipe yourself, cleaning Elsa's face with long, gentle strokes. Her eyes shut, just enjoying the sensations, and this all feels so natural. Like you're doing exactly what you should be.
It doesn't take long to clean up the rest of you, and her. You want to help her do that, but that feels like a little too much; a little too soon. She has a trashcan in the corner of the room, and so she collects up the wipes so she can throw them out. Before she stands up, she flicks the bedside lamp on, and while up, she turns the ceiling light off.
She's still naked when she slides under the covers. So are you, when she helps you under. Your heads hit the pillows, and you're looking at each other.
"Elsa..." you say softly. You like the way her name feels on your tongue, though you're not quite sure what to say now. You need to talk about this, now that's she's a bit more... here. "Elsa, are you okay?"
She doesn't answer for a moment. Instead she spends a few seconds moving close. Your arms wrap around hers, almost out of instinct, and you kiss her forehead.
"I'm sorry..." she says softly. "I didn't mean—"
"Shhh, Els. Are you okay?"
You can see her swallow, blinking rapidly before she nods. "I- I am. With you here, how could I not be?" Her eyes meet yours, briefly, before she looks away. "I'm... sorry it got a bit... weird." She grimaces when she says the final word, and your heart breaks a little because that's not true!
"It wasn't weird, Elsa," you say. Her eyes meet yours, and well... "Okay, it was... different. And unexpected, and a little intense. But it's no weirder than... than being in this position with you in the first place. You don't expect to sleep with your boss, a woman, who is literally a thousand times out of your league..."
You give a self-deprecating laugh, but Elsa doesn't follow suit. She grabs your face and holds you there as she closes the distance.
"Never-" she starts, fierce. "Never say that. You are perfect, Anna." Her lips meet yours, and the way she kisses is almost enough to make you believe her because... well, it's obvious that she believes it. "You are so much better than me, better than I could ever hope to be."
There are things she's not saying, words that she can't find at the moment, that you don't have the strength to accept.
So you pull away so you can kiss Elsa properly, bodies close. Your eyes slip shut, and it's not the desperate, ferocious kisses of earlier. It's something soft, full of an intimacy and lingering passion that just reaffirms this whole evening.
When you fall asleep, Elsa's lips still on yours, you find that you dream of her, too.
A/N: There you go folks, the big chapter! We hope you enjoy it as much as we do. A couple of announcements: we're going to take a few weeks hiatus to make sure the next chapters are solid, so look for updates to resume early in the new year, and also Turwen is now co-writer! In the year and almost fifty chapters since she started betaing Risky Business, we've gone from acquaintances to friends to lovers, and the story wouldn't be as wonderful as it is today without her.
Happy Christmas and seasons greetings and all that stuff :)