Tethered
It was amazing the things that being corresponded did to your self-esteem. Knowing that your feelings are being reciprocated, that someone you love and treasure with borderline zealotry desires you back in the same way you do is the biggest confidence booster there is, bar none.
The moment Taylor made her proposal of subjecting herself to whatever she needed for Amy to avoid being driven insane by the monotony that came with always doing the same healing, laid herself bare - giving her absolute control of the situation - for all intents and purposes Amy almost smashed her lips with hers without thinking.
Yes, they did end up in a furious, frantic make-out session that almost extended for another two hours until Taylor fell asleep with the most dulcet smile she had ever seen, but she was unsure at first. Insecure and skittering around her feelings.
Yes, she did read her constantly, by her poorly explored sense of body language and by the Link she had, and all the signs had been there; the pure joy at seeing her, the way her eyes flitted here and there across Amy's body inadvertently, her body heat rising more than was usual whenever there was contact, but her mangled sense of self-worth - thanks, Carol - didn't let her compute correctly that her years-long crush could be attracted to her, even if the evidence was, literally, staring her in the face.
When she started poking and prodding at her nerves in the gentlest way possible, she had detected curiosity and a hint of something more, and that had spurred her onwards and into unexplored waters, gently poking and twisting different nerve clusters to gauge her reaction, then she stumbled upon a way to prod her body in just the right way - she hadn't known what her reaction would be, only that it would be positive - and the small gasp she gave, robbed her of her own breath, that curiosity and other sentiment were now tinged with something she recognized in herself every time she looked at Taylor.
Arousal.
She swore to herself that she was just experimenting with small little things, that she would move on to other ways to affect her body, interesting and challenging.
That was a lie.
It was a slippery slope in the best of ways, once she had tasted what she could do to her, what she could make her feel with just a touch she just couldn't help herself not to spread it over her entire body, tuning up slightly the sensitivity of her nerves while she did that same little prod all over again.
When Tay all but crushed her in a reflexive hug, voice throaty and breathless, she almost lost control over herself, of her body as well as her Power.
Then she had the absolute gall to lick her, and her already fragile grasp on herself shattered into a million pieces, catapulting Amy into a spiral of suddenly released desire and indulgence into those blisteringly intoxicating lips.
Amy left a trail with her index, slowly tracing Taylor's collarbone and neck while leaving a path of soft light made up of bioluminescent bacteria. Both of them had had it applied in their lips, a fun little idea Amy had had in the middle of taking some air, and it showed itself in the myriad of marks and trails they both had across their neck and face after applying the 'lipstick' to their lips in liberal measure.
She could feel every muscle movement and nerve reacting, every synapse firing and cell doing its designated job.
An intrusive thought made her frown.
Should she be doing this? Should she be able to access and modify her biology at will, even if she gave consent?
Amy bit her lip in worry, drawing back slightly and cutting the skin-to-skin contact she had.
She was the one in control. She was the one that had said control ceded to her in a show of absolute trust.
So why did it feel like she didn't deserve it? As if the joy that Taylor provided her wasn't meant for her?
Was it fear of going too far? Was it because she didn't think she could be trusted with trust itself? Fear of being the one in control for the first time in her life, of being able to make decisions about something as monumental in her life as her?
What was it?!
She pinched the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes forcefully and trying to stem the tide of malicious thoughts and doubts, of fears rational and imaginary, of all-too-real insecurities assaulting her mind akin to the pitter-patter of rain as heavy as lead on an already cracked glass.
Her increasingly frantic mind reached a mental finger without her input, grazing across an ethereal thread once again and giving Amy her complete layout. Every nook, cranny, and cell.
She felt herself relax immediately, the rhythm of her breathing and the activity of her sleep cycles had an air of familiarity to them by now, of something she could always return to and confide in to slide her worries off her back and let herself be lost in the flow of information and the feedback she received, amplified when she the flow of doubts and worries faded away completely and she brought herself to resume contact, clearing the somewhat muddy picture her Power gave to her when only using her Link.
Why was she doubting herself again?
She agreed to it - offered it herself, even! - without even a hint of suspicion or doubt pressed against Amy, without second-guessing how catastrophic the consequences could be for her if she made a single mistake where she couldn't afford to.
Amelia sighed, waving away her coherent thoughts and letting herself lean and merge with Taylor while using her as a bed.
And if she nibbled on her lobule while she fell asleep again, who would blame her?
It was too tasty to be left alone.
And the little sounds Taylor while asleep made just sweetened the deal.
She woke up to the feeling of soft lips pressing against her head and hair, ruffling her already in disarray crow's nest all the while sending pleasant tingles down her spine.
She moved her head just in time to catch one of the kisses directed at her forehead, meeting Tay's lips with her own instead.
Surprise colored her system, rapidly replaced by what she recognized as happiness and that other emotion she hadn't pinned down just yet.
"Good morning Amy." Was the whispered greeting once they separated in search of air, Tay's face colored as a strawberry painted in red.
"Good morning," she reciprocated, going for the cluster of nerves she could see in her neck and started nibbling and sucking, applying the exact amount of pressure to be ever-so-slightly painful and at the same time pleasurable. That dew a gasp out of Taylor and made her next words choppy and spaced.
"We, we should go-o get, breakfast, get breakf-ast," she pouted once Amy stopped attacking her neck. "Please? I'm… Quite hungry, actually."
Amy sighed with what she could tell was resignation and a pout herself. "I was having breakfast, you know." She booped her nose, a wave of clarity washing across Taylor's mind.
"But first I need to talk to you about something, okay?"
The unusual seriousness in her tone made her tense up and clamp on her emotions as best as she could, a method of coping developed not shortly after Annette's death.
Not a healthy one, mind you, but it worked. Sometimes.
"I… There's another aspect of my Power. One that I haven't mentioned to you out of… Fear. Of fear of driving you away, so, here it is."
Taylor neither relaxed nor tensed, simply awaiting whatever it was, soft eyes locked with Amy's.
"I can… Sort of, kind of, make a, a connection, if you will. I can form a link with whoever I touch, and the more in contact I am, the clearer it is." She swallowed, expecting some kind of overt reaction for part of Taylor and only receiving a set of pale fingers brushing hers. "I, I made one with you. It's the strongest and only datastream I have, and the only one I want." Once again, her gaze - beautiful eyes of her own making - held no judgment nor hate, so she set her resolve and went on as best as she could, taking solace that Taylor was still touching her even when she just told her that.
"It's… Strange. It's as if I could reach out and touch you from anywhere and anytime, and know that… Know that you are okay, that you are not hurt, that you aren't in danger or need help or, or I don't, I, don't-"
She stopped when she felt a pair of hands take her cheeks, thumbs caressing gently her face and rubbing away the tears she hadn't even felt fall from her eyes.
Amy saw her lips closing in on hers, connecting and giving her first row to how Taylor's brain lit up like a Christmas tree every time there was even the smallest of twitches. It was a chaste thing, minimal contact, and movement, but it was more than enough to assuage any and all lingering fears.
"Well," she intoned softly, still cupping her cheeks. "Then I can say that I'm the only girl in the Bay with a guardian angel, hm?"
Taylor's eyes bore on hers with that strangely intense emotion she couldn't pin down again, her brain and synapses awash with it-
And then it clicked.
It was the same look Aunt Sarah gave Uncle Neil, the same look she could see sometimes on faces young, old, and adult. The same look she could see sometimes at the bus stop when someone parted ways, the same look she had seen Carol shoot Mark when they thought no one was looking.
It was love.
Pure, undiluted love.
Not for her Power, not for who New Wave was, not for who her sister was, not for her budding persona as Panacea, bane of all that was wrong and sick in the world.
For her. For her, Amy, and only her.
She sagged in her arms, leaning against her chest while her hair was being peppered with a smattering of small kisses, almost as if pampering her.
"I love you too,"
She felt Taylor tense, then uncoil and sit her chin on the top of her head, fingers dexterously creating nonsensical circular patterns that almost had her purring on her lap. A forehead collisioned with Amy's in a manner not to dissimilar to the way hers had done with Taylor's the night before, a single word escaping her lips in a dulcet whisper.
"Dork."