I own nothing. This story is written by paradoxicalconverse from /works/16867849
It's profound, Waverly thinks, the way Nicole can move her; it's poetry. Loving Nicole is poetry. It's poetry when she wakes up in the morning nestled against the front of her lover, poetry in the brewed coffee that waits for her with a note telling her that she's loved when Nicole leaves early for work.
It's poetry the way Nicole moves on top of her now, hips rolling and toes curling as her tongue scrapes against the shell of Waverly's ear. "Pretty girl," she hisses. The muscles of Waverly's legs clench around the pet name that she's loathe to admit soaks her. Nicole must notice, though, because her teeth nip at Waverly's earlobe in reward. "Daddy's little girl."
A mewl slips between her lips before she can stop herself; it's asinine, how easily Nicole can reduce her to a mess of sweaty limbs and slick thighs which Nicole now rolls between. The delicious burn between her legs reminds her of her place; Nicole's babygirl, Daddy's babygirl.
She wants to beg Nicole to go faster but thinks against it. Nicole's in a teasing mood as she presses inch by inch into Waverly, slowly, and other other exhalation of begging would only slow her down further. So Waverly grinds her teeth into her lower lip to keep herself from crying and waits.
The sheets beneath her back are damp with sweat and arousal as her fingers curl into them. The way Nicole uses her is the best sort of torture. "Good girl," Nicole croons as their hips slot together. She holds, just for a moment, to give Waverly a taste, and stripes her tongue up a bead of sweat that's begun to trickle down her beck. "Taking all of me so well."
Waverly's jaw has gone slack and so have her thoughts so she bobs her head unceremoniously and cants her hips in an attempt to let Nicole know what she needs.
Of course Nicole already does. "Don't be crass," she chides. "Thinking about yourself. I know you want me to go faster." Her hips roll backwards at a pace that makes Waverly want to cry with unfulfilled want. "But I want to go slow, and it's daddy's choice, isn't it?"
Waverly's eyes roll into the back of her head as Nicole withdraws completely.
"I asked you a question, princess," Nicole murmurs into her ear. All she's capable of doing is nodding, but it's flimsy at that.
"Sweetheart," Nicole hums as she starts her torturous push back inside Waverly. "You know I want you to use your words. If that pretty little mouth of yours isn't going to be used the way I want, then I'm going to have to use it a different way."
Again, Waverly nods.
Nicole sighs as she presses back up into Waverly, enough that she slides over the spot that makes Waverly want to snap in half against her. "So be it," she murmurs, and presses her fingers between Waverly's lips.
Reaction has her threading her tongue between them as her lips wrap around Nicole's knuckles, desperate to pull them in further. Maybe, just maybe, the further she pulls them in, the further in Nicole will push herself until she can no longer remember where she ends and her lover begins.
She expects Nicole to pull back out once she's filled her completely but instead her hips stay snapped in place, enough that it lifts Waverly's own off the mattress to accomodate all of her. "Look at you," she praises. The fingers in Waverly's mouth press down to angle her face so she can see Nicole filling her, can see the kiss of their pelvises and the hint of Nicole where it's buried inside Waverly. "Look at you, taking me so well." She presses down on Waverly's tongue. "Do you want a reward?"
Waverly's not sure whether she's allowed to nod or not, she she blinks and flicks her tongue over the tip of Nicole's fingers.
"Good girls do get rewards," Nicole rations as she pretends to think about it. The muscles in Waverly's abs and legs are beginning to burn with the strain of holding herself up in the position Nicole's forced her into, but the burn will never be as good as the one inside her. "And you have been taking me so well, haven't you?"
She gives in and nods. Her tongue curls over Nicole's fingers again, just in case. A safety precaution. "Well." The words seeps against the base of Waverly's neck as Nicole leans down, lets her lips slide over Waverly's collarbones and neck. Teeth sink into her jawline. "Since you asked so nicely."
It's poetry in the way that Nicole moves her, yes, but it's poetry in the way Nicole takes her as well. "Daddy's girl," Nicole lulls into Waverly's ear as her hips pull out and slam back in, relentless. It's exactly what Waverly needs, the dichotomy of her saccharine words and the cruelty of her hips that in the end make up nothing but poetry.
Beautiful words, beautiful bodies.
Her words become staggered after a moment as she grinds harder, her breath falters in Waverly's ear as their hips meet, again and again and again. "Good girl, good girl, taking me so good," she groans.
Maybe it's Waverly's first orgasm or maybe it's her fifth but it doesn't matter, not when it's all blurring into one strong enough to make her eyes roll into the back of her head and her toes curl so strong they might very well break, but nothing will ever hurt as much as how well Nicole hurts her.
"Daddy!" pours from her lips before she can help herself and it's enough to send her over the edge again.
It's enough for Nicole, too. Her eyes widen in surprise as she forces herself back and out onto her knees; it's more or less too late. A shockwave of pleasure ripples through Waverly as Nicole comes inside her, all heat and warmth and love. Another bead of hot come hits her stomach, pools in the ridges of her abdomen as more follow.
She pulled out.
Her hands stroke against her as she finishes herself over Waverly's stomach, hips canting against her hand to derive any last dregs of pleasure that she can. Come puddles between the ridge of Waverly's abdomen as Nicole slumps back on her knees, a sheen of sweat on her neck and eyes rolled into the back of her head. "Waverly," she murmurs. "I didn't—I came in you—I…"
Her body had gone into hyperdrive the moment she'd felt the first bead of come inside her and her legs clench at the thought; Nicole had pulled out and finished over her stomach, but it didn't excuse the fact that she'd come in her, come that was now soaking the sheets between Waverly's legs where it dripped back out. "We were so careful, Waves, I'm so sorry." Her jaw bobs as she tries to find the right words.
"I wanted it," Waverly says, and it's the first time she realizes it's true. Nothing can scare her anymore, not when she knows Nicole's by her side. "I wanted it, baby."
Hands grasp at Nicole's arms to pull her back down on top of her, skin on skin, as her eyes search Nicole's for any form of resistance.
Her implication isn't guaranteed, no, but it's there. The sliver of possibility that makes her heart throb with something unhad. "I want you , Nicole. In any and every way I possibly can."
"I want you, too," Nicole breathes as her shoulders slump in relief against Waverly. "My angel."
Waverly Earp supposes she's been wrong about a lot of things in her, supposes she hasn't been too great at other things either.
But there's one thing she knows she's been good at since the beer tap at Shorty's exploded, since red hair and a drawl walked in, since she learned what love actually meant.
No, there's one thing she knows she's good at, one thing she'll never have to worry about being bad at again;
poetry