1. What's two plus one?
AN/ Hi, all, remember me? One gif triggered this entire piece. It's amazing what can spark off my muse again. I've had multiple requests / PMs for a sequel etc and in the words of a sage old saying: never say never.
So this is sort of a sequel and is set a few years forward from Turn the Lights Out.
(Perspective is Piper's)
.
.
.
"You sure you turned the stove off?"
"Hmmm?"
"The stove," I repeat, "Did you turn it off?"
Fiery images of burning multi-million dollar houses with too many expensive paintings going up in flames rattle through my mind's eye.
"Pipes, the thing turns itself off. And even so we're not all going to burn into a crisp because it's goddamn electric."
"Oh yeah," I murmur relieved, "I remember that was the main selling point from the sales guy. How could I forget?"
Alex's voice drifts into my ear, "Piper, I'm kinda in the middle of something."
"I mean it was six hundred dollars-" I don't complete the sentence but instead was abruptly cut off by a pair of hands squeezing a pair of things that had but a gazillion nerve endings all working in perfect orgasmic unison to make me yell out a series of expletives that would make even a lumberjack blush into oblivion.
"Speaking of hot things…" Alex breathes into my ear, like she hadn't just done all of that.
I'm still in a state of recovery so end up just profusely nodding - the universal gesture for please continue as you were.
Three minutes ago I was certain I had left the raging hormones phase back in my teen years but as I look at Alex and her damningly proud manner do I realise it had never truly left me. Let's just say; Greek goddess Aphrodite had nothing on Alex.
"I detest you so much right now…at least warn me in advance."
"But doesn't that spoil all the fun, hun?"
As you can see my hate-love dilemma was still as strong as ever. Hate because of the smug and love because of the… smug.
"Hun? Seriously?" I begin, but yet again was swiftly silenced just as overly competent hands traced down my abdomen, conquering every single inch of hot wanting skin.
We're in bed, semi-dressed or semi-naked, depending on which way you looked at it, and both trying our utmost to stay at least semi-silent through Alex's suggestion of a morning quickie before we both headed off to work. That's a lot of semis - but my loud groans and moans and other sexual sound effects were most definitely not.
"Jesus," Alex remarked all exasperation, "Any louder and I'm gonna have to get my eardrums replaced."
I roll my eyes, fixing them on Alex who was straddling me at the hips, her mouth somewhere buried in my neck. I wait for the last shockwaves of my second or possibly third orgasm to subside before forcefully whispering, "Well considering you're fucking hand is well up into my hoohah…what do you expect?"
Alex looks totally unfazed, and instead she eased away for a moment, and a second later her mouth was on my breast, "I expect you to come…again."
Coherency and any high ground I had was instantly lost in an avalanche of white heat. My thighs clench together as a wave of honest to goodness desire races through me - my mouth desperately wanting to reconnect with the heathen who was currently teaching me a lesson in exactly why I should keep my goddamn mouth shut.
As if I hadn't just been schooled she adds all matter-of-fact, "Also try and enjoy yourself quietly…otherwise we're never going to get to my turn and so help me god if we get interrupted again."
It's been months if not a year since we've matched or even come close to my then regular seven orgasms per session and I was determined so truly determined…that today was going to be the day. Slim odds in the face of many factors that sought to curb that goal but despite that I remained staunchly hopeful.
I shake my head and without warning roll over and force Alex to become bottom this time. Let's see how good she is at the keeping quiet front. It's about time I tested out this practice what I preach thing she had going on.
Craning my head forwards, I nuzzle my face into Alex's nape and move my mouth just enough to graze over her lips before mercilessly moving back. Alex was obviously liking this rapid turn of events…well judging from the barely concealed groan rumbling somewhere in her throat.
"Shhhhh." I place my finger against my lips, and audaciously whisper, "You've got to be quiet, remember?"
"I'm so much better at it than you." Alex gasped, her face blossoming into the complete opposite.
What did I say?
Such a fucking liar.
"Well then, prove it."
I don't care for an answer because I'm already purposefully grinding my hips against her with just the right amount of traction and flair. I wrap my hands around her face and bring us together for an open-mouthed kiss.
But I wasn't done yet, if anything we were still firmly at the starting line and luckily for the both of us the finish line was nowhere near in sight.
"Hey babe," I began with a languid murmur, that revealed nothing of what my hands were presently up to. Or rather in to. "I didn't hear your excuse."
My teeth pulled at her lips as my hand drove into the juncture of her thighs, pressing firmly and ruthlessly. I was pushing her beyond her limits in every sense of the word.
A fresh curse tore straight through those wonderfully supple lips – the moans following so husky and rough – it had me captured for a moment. I could feel my own rush of arousal constricting my throat, my heartbeat thundering in my ears.
Alex took my second of momentary weakness as a portal for her comeuppance, her hands sliding up against the curve of my ass and pushing me down against her, our chests flush with one another. Her eyes dark and wanting - bore into me and I had no choice but to succumb to the urge that left cinders in its wake.
"You can't win..." Alex declares, running her tongue lightly over my neck, "…from me that easily, Chapman."
"I didn't know we were in a competition." I respond with an ingenuous flick of the brows. How I managed to respond with such calm was beyond me, considering my mental faculties had flown away, together with the meagre restraint I tried to clutch onto.
Alex smiled a smile that was so inherently hers, "A competition implies competition. So far there's been none of that."
Her lips briefly touched mine, so that her breath was my breath, and oh fuck, how can someone be so maddeningly conceited and sexy all at once?
I pulled her into me, and uttered, "You're the worst."
Even though I was on top, quite literally — metaphorically speaking I was far from it, I would have to concede she was forever the sex conqueror and had beaten me once again.
"Am I supposed to apologise?" Alex punctuated that by deliberately turning in such a way…let's say a certain pressure in a certain area sparked off a fury of fucks out of me. "Because I'm afraid that's...not...going to happen."
It was then – in the midst of my ecstasy that I sagely realise there were never losers in this game of ours. "You're a fucking disgrace, Alex." I barely vocalise.
She halts her moves for a second and greets me with one of her signature self-satisfied grins. She really did think she was the best thing since sliced bread which was true but still, "What are you waiting for?" I scowl, "Your fucking theme tune?"
"And I love you too, babes."
I mean, really?
What do you even say to that?
"Mom! Mom! Mommy!"
A small high pitched voice suddenly materialises from the doorway, bringing an abrupt end to our cuddling session. I probably had about a split second warning before our little tearaway launched himself onto the bed.
"Shit!" Alex exclaims in horror, "Didn't you lock the fu- bedroom door!"
"I thought you did!" I let out a shocked yelp and manage to somehow in the same breath yank the corners of the bed sheet and hastily wrap it around the offending areas of my birthday suit. Unfortunately, in the midst of my own self-preservation I somehow forgot about Alex who was now thrown off balance by my panicked jutting of limbs; and so rather unceremoniously hurtled off the bed.
It's actually a blessing in disguise because a five year old bundle of nervous energy had now landed on the bed.
He was busy reporting on the monster under his bed, his little face screwed into that typical scared toddler expression. Unbeknownst to him, both his parents currently had their faces screwed into the typical we've nearly been caught in the act grown up expressions.
So this is probably the world's worst timed interlude for an introduction - but meet Toby Vause-Chapman - our five year old handsome little devil who Alex and I had adopted when he was literally as big as a jar of peanut butter. Having children or adopting no less hadn't even been something we had actively discussed but it was over the years where we'd both come to the natural conclusion two persons must become three.
'Hey honey!" I burst out with an over the top jovial tone, quickly double checking once again that I was adequately covered, "What are you doing up so early in the morning?"
He stops speaking at his usual mile a minute, his head cocked to the side and a curiously suspicious expression painted across his little cherubic face. Any other time my heart would have melted at the sight of him adorably clutching onto Mr Bear, the little teddy that had survived worse trauma than an actual bear would ever have to face. (Five year olds live a very rough and tumble life).
But I had other pressing problems to deal with - namely making sure our child hadn't gotten a reenactment of the special love hug between adults he'd been taught in last week's sex ed class and so run the risk of becoming permanently scarred.
"Were you and mom fighting?"
"No! Of course not, Toby." I sheepishly glance back at Alex who miraculously managed to pull on a shirt and sweatpants.
"So why is mom on the floor?" He flicks his gaze between the two of us, and I almost squirm from embarrassment.
Kids, these days were too annoyingly inquisitive.
"Hey champ!" Alex climbs back onto the bed, her face flushed, and appearing more guilty than a thief caught thieving. She throws me a panicked side eye but all I can do is apologetically shrug. "So uh what are you doing up so early? School doesn't start for another few hours."
"Mom, I couldn't sleep." His face pulls into a sorry little expression as he runs up to Alex and hurriedly crawls into her lap before burying his head into her waist. His tiny voice, all muffled against her, "I think….I think the under the bed monster is back…and I don't want to go back to my room in case he's still there."
"Hey bud," Alex ruffles his hair, "Remember what we said about these monsters, hmmm?"
"That they don't exist." He answers reluctantly.
"That's right."
No sooner had Alex spoken when Toby suddenly jumps up, "But actually I think they do, mom. I heard them. I heard them. I prooomiise."
Alex catches my eyes behind his back, and I gesture to her to go with him to his room so that I could get dressed. She nods her head, and turns back to him, "Ok…what do you think? Shall we go have a look together?"
"Do we have to?" Toby answers, clasping his hand tightly around Alex's, his face still a picture of nerves.
She catches his hesitation and bends down to his level, "Hey bud, didn't Mommy and I both promise you we're never ever going to let anything bad happen to you?"
"Yeah." He answers, worrying the sleeve of Alex's shirt.
She rubbed his back, "So come one, let's have a look and seeing as you're already up…we'll go make breakfast after, deal?"
"Uh huh."
They head out of the room but just before closing the door Alex turns around and mouths this is totally unfinished which makes me laugh out loud, and just to annoy slash tantalise slash forewarn her, I let my duvet deliberately slip, and wink, "There is always tomorrow."
"Let me fight some monsters first…but I can't promise I'll be without any injuries when I return."
"I'll make sure I'll tend to your battle wounds. Don't worry, Dr V-C, we'll be at your service." I add, "Now go sort those monsters, babe."
.
.
.
It's a few weeks later and I'm working my usual Tuesday evening shift at Haven. The take had been quiet, almost too quiet. Turns out it's one of those once in a blue moon evenings where the gang and I outnumbered the patrons almost two to one. Over the years we've all learned that any lapse in chaos was to be savoured like it was our last.
I cast a quick cursory eye over the shop floor - satisfied all of the tables had been served their meals. A perfunctory glance at the electronic order board bolted above the serving hatch told me all was well and in order.
"Hey!" Taystee bounces up to me munching on some of the leftover batch of fries, "How's my cute lil godson?"
I stop writing in the equipment log, and inwardly smile, "He's good."
Yeah about that. Technically Taystee had somehow managed to appoint herself as godmother. I mean I didn't mind at all but somewhere along the line Taystee had gone from god mom who sent Toby the gifts at the usual holiday occasions to deciding on what he should wear in this teens and what colleges to apply for.
"You got any pictures?"
"Trust me Taystee," I answer with a laugh, "I promise he hasn't changed that much since the photos I showed you last month."
"Man, quit stalling, you know I never get enough of seeing that cute-ass kid of yours."
I'm already happily holding my phone out and show her the pictures I took when the three of us had gone to Acadia National Park a couple of weekends ago.
"Oh my god…look at that chubby little face." She squeals out loud, "R'member when he used to look like a lil potato?
I can't help but snort, "How can I forget."
Truth be told, Toby in his younger years - circa two years old did bear an unfortunate resemblance to a potato according to Nicky anyway. I still fondly think back to Taystee's rather blunt exclamation, "P, he looks just like a yam."
I'd been too dumbfounded to even question such a ludicrous comparison and even went so far as to worry what mutant farmer's market did she go to where they sold baby shaped yams?
Her nudge sends me out of wistful memories, "How has he grown so quickly? I mean what the hell are you feeding this kid, that green shit that Popeye cartoon used to constantly down?"
"You mean spinach?"
Taystee's eyes open wide, "You're kidding me right? Is that what that stuff was?"
"Fuck Taystee, I'm drowning in irony here." Nicky interjects, as she plumped her behind on the counter beside me, "You work in an eatery what hope does uncultured America have?" She looks at me, "I'm telling you again. You've made a big mistake not making me god-mom or at least appoint me as the cool aunt. That kid is missing out on so much of the Nichols wisdom."
I suspect Nicky's version of cool aunt and mine were far from aligned. I'm conjuring up images of Toby being taught how to roll weed joints and be delivered sessions in how to perfectly chug a can of beer.
"I'll think about it."
It's an answer disguised as a big fat no.
"Your loss, Chaps. Your loss." She spots my peeved off face, "Sorry my bad, it's Vause-Chapman. Y'know it's too much of a mouthful. What shall I shorten it to though? Is Chappy-V any good? How about V-Chaps? Actually scratch that…now it sounds like I'm trying to sell off-brand chapsticks to some dodgy guy in Queens."
My eyes roll around off their own accord, "How about boss. Is that short enough?" I swipe some of Taystee's fries, "Nicky, ever thought of having kids?"
"Me? Jesus Fucking Christ…That's a big no, nada on all fronts. I mean have you seen me? Do I look like someone who wants to deal with dirty diapers and subject myself to accidental projectile vomit shots into my eyeballs?"
"Do you have to make it sound like I'm raising a feral monkey?"
"Same thing isn't it?" She shrugs her shoulders, "One's endangered and the other is a danger."
"Sounds like you're describing yourself, Nichols!" Poussey chimes in from the galley.
Nicky pulls the bird at her, "Keep your mouth shut, Washington."
"Now who looks like they're throwing their toys outta the pram."
Poussey ducks, barely avoiding a flannel fashioned into a missile rapidly heading her way.
"I don't mind a mini Taystee but I gotta find myself a guy first." Taystee adds wishfully.
Nicky grabs a nearby can of coke and pops it open, before pointing at me, "Going back to your question, the real reason is mama Nichols is a cunt and dada Nichols a useless sack of bones. I mean my fucking shadow has more purpose than those assholes." She holds her drink aloft, "So in the interest of humanity I'd rather not widen that toxic gene pool."
"Woah, that sucks Nicky."
"That's fucked up, Nicks."
Although she's acting all blasé and unbothered - there was still a flash of anguish that I didn't miss, even in the relatively dim surroundings of the kitchen.
The three of us stand there, shrouded in an awkward silence as Nicky's words still echoed around us, the atmosphere taking a sudden nosedive into grim seriousness.
"Relax guys," She smirks, back to her usual sprightly ways - making me wonder whether I had imagined it all. "The real reason is Mrs V wouldn't thank me if I caused any sort of harm to her which includes ejecting melon head babies out of my uterus." Nicky points at her crotch to my utter dismay, "She's a high maintenance girl that one."
Taystee and I engage in a collective sigh of seriously?
I sigh again, just in case the first one hadn't been clear enough, "Jesus Christ, Nicky. You're giving us whiplash here."
Taystee furrows her brows together, "This girl seriously needs to head to church."
Nicky jumps off the counter and shrugs her shoulders, "Hey, you guys asked and you got."
.
.
.
It's been maybe a year since we moved out of Alex's apartment and into a normal grounded house with you guessed it - a white picket fence. I mean it wasn't quite the quaint cottage overlooking the Atlantic vision I had of our future but it had certainly more than delivered on my dream of living a gloriously ye olde lesbian existence.
The house had enough space to accommodate a small sovereign country never mind the three of us. But its long winding corridors and obnoxious number of rooms made for the best games of hide and seek.
All in all we had become the epitome of New York nouveau riche. The two vintage bikes Alex kept in the garage together with our strictly gay dress sense still reminded the neighbours we didn't quite conform to all of boring suburbia.
I was still manager at Haven, still the butt of Nicky's toilet humour and still terrified of our reigning gulag master, Red.
The front door slams shut and it's not a second later when Alex materialises beside me - carrying a paper bag and a smile that come rain or shine always sparked off the old butterflies inside me.
"Hey! How was work?"
"Riveting." We exchanged a quick kiss before Alex declares, "It's Friday and you know what that means?"
I peek into the bag and spot a bottle of wine and various assorted cheeses. "My wildest dreams have come true." I let out a happy sigh, wind my arms around her waist and respond all coy, "Well aren't you quite the cheese connoisseur?"
She puts her hands over mine, "Come and brie mine."
"Did you just?"
"Make a cheesy cheese joke?" She winks at me, looking the least bit remorseful by way of her lopsided grin. "And I'm not even ashamed of it."
"You have shame?" I say with mock surprise. "Because that's certainly news to me."
Alex rolls her eyes, a smirk panning across her face, "How about I un-shame you as well."
I carry on cleaning the dishes, "That doesn't remotely make any sense."
"So why don't you let me demonstrate?"
Before I could decide on an answer, she brazenly slid her hand beneath my jeans but it comes to a sudden stop, her mouth suspended mid-laugh, "Hang on a second…are you wearing lace?"
I pulled her hand back out again and pushed her back, "What is this? Your new honey I'm home greeting?"
Alex ignores my half-assed attempt at exasperation and pressed herself behind me, " I've waited all damn day to put my hands all over you." She nuzzles her face into the crook of my shoulder, and has the cheek to start unbuttoning her shirt, "So what's the special occasion?"
"Were you keeping count or something?"
"Questions needs answers, not more questions, babe." Alex kissed the back of my neck, full well knowing that was my spot, "And as a matter of fact I was keeping count - eight hours and ten minutes to be exact."
I wriggle free, and shook my head, "I'm trying to do the dishes her and you're so not helping."
"Can I sense some kind of role playing coming on here?"
"God, Al. Are you like some weird fetish fiend now?"
"If sexing up your hot wife is a fetish then I'm all in." Her hands continue to roam over my body and I'm having to fight off the urge to reciprocate.
Thankfully (unfortunately?) sense returns to me and whizz around, "C'mere and stand still." I grab her by the shirt and proceed to button it back up again, "Right this minute there are three, yes three five year old's asleep in Toby's room and I'm sure you remember what happened in the not so distant past."
Alex looks down, watching me finish with the top button, "I gotta say this is a very odd experience for me."
I straighten her collar, and look back up," How so?"
"Well I've never had a woman dress me back up again." She catches my eyes, a smile tugging at her lips, "Normally it's the other way round."
I shake my head, and ask with an amused snort, "Are you always so persistent?"
"Only when it matters."
Oh and also, I'm still mightily in love with this self-professed charmer.
Things most definitely have not changed on that front.
.
.
.
AN/ Hope you guys enjoyed this! For those worried this will be unfinished; fear not. This fic has already been fully completed. Likely a 3/4 shot. Update soon :)
