Phew. Well, good news. All four of my wisdom teeth have been removed. More good news, I am still medicated. Huzzah!
Well this chapter was fun. Lastly, because I'm still all kind of fucked up and junk, I apologize for any mistakes and suckage.
As always, reviews are most welcome, and I am not above begging for them.
Temptation.
In all the time Alice had traveled with the convoy and in all the time Claire had been aware of her feelings for the other woman, not once had she considered sex.
Certainly, she was in love with Alice, wanted all the things that went with being a person's lover. But her need transcended the physical and hormonal; Claire wanted Alice in a ferociously intimate way. She wanted her touch, her comfort, her strength, her affection, her love. It was inexplicable really. None of these things would solve their problems, change their reality. Yet still Claire craved them.
She had thought about kissing Alice, of course. She had replayed the first kiss they had shared over and over in her mind, imagined different kisses in different moments, different circumstances. Kisses rendered fierce by passion. Kisses agonizing in their slowness. Kisses where Alice healed Claire by the mere touch of their lips, fixing that broken part of her, repairing that ache in her chest.
She supposed that she had thought of sex with Alice before, in some distant, abstract way. But nothing specific. Nothing as remotely graphic as her dream had been.
Sex had rarely entered her mind the past six years. Before, she had been young. Not entirely a virgin, but nor did she have a wealth of experience under her metaphorical belt. Then everything changed. Surviving became the priority: fleeing, fighting, finding food, evading the horde. There were much more important things than her carnal urges. Nothing killed the mood faster than a zombie apocalypse.
Walking the perimeter of the camp in the chill of the pre-dawn desert did nothing to cool her desires. She paced, paying careful attention to the placement of each electronic sentry that would alert them should anything cross into the perimeter. She listened for any sounds, any unnatural shuffle that might hint at an Undead intrusion. She checked with the guards, those left awake in case their alarm system failed.
All was quiet; nothing was out of place. Claire almost hoped for the Infected to find them, perhaps just a few to stumble into camp. The distraction would be more than welcome, and perhaps she could work out some of residual restlessness from her dream by fighting.
The impact of the dream had been more than just physical. To feel so enveloped by happiness, safety, bliss… to feel so careless and free. Only to wake up, stuck in the same hellish reality, the same jagged cruelness, was devastating. More devastating than the dream with the rolling silver glass curtain.
But the emotional effects were easier to stifle, to ignore.
Claire could not ignore the more physical symptoms of her dream.
She was wet. The moisture between her legs had not dried. She could still feel it with every step, cold on her inner thighs.
It was as if Alice was still pressed against her, and Claire could still feel the heat of her body pressed against her. She could still feel the warmth and hunger of her mouth, devouring, plundering hers, and trailing burning kisses down her neck to the hollow of her throat. She could still feel Alice's hands on her skin, calloused palms rough against her hypersensitive bare skin, cupping her breasts, teasing her nipples. She could feel those same hands dipping past the waistband of her trousers, her underwear, lingering for just a moment in the soft curls between her legs before dipping deeper, exploring the wetness.
Claire walked past the same sentry point for the fourth time before ducking into the abandoned gas station. She felt light-headed and dizzy, her breath coming in soft ragged pants as if had just sprinted fifty yards.
Leaning against the cold cinderblock wall of the gas station, she tried to think of something, anything besides Alice or her hands or her mouth. It was impossible. It was if the dream consumed her all over again, and Alice had her pinned against this wall and was thrusting against her.
She bit back a scream of frustration, teeth clamping down on her lower lip until she was sure that she would taste blood. Her entire body felt alive, as if she were a live wire, buzzing, waiting to make a connection and explode with electric current.
Eyes already adjusted to the dim light, she stepped through the convenience store without making a sound, slipping behind the counter and into the back room that at one point served as an office. Silently, she shut the door behind her.
It wasn't much for comfort, but Claire was beyond caring. She surrendered and ran her hands over her shirt, over her body, and thighs, resting for a moment. Her touch felt odd, alien until she imagined that they were Alice's hands. That it was Alice who ran insistent hands over the curves of her body, unbuttoning her trousers.
She imagined that Alice was a demanding lover that did not ask for permission as her hands felt and traveled wherever she pleased. She imagined that Alice was the teasing sort, who would draw out her lover's need to the very brink.
When Claire finally slipped her own hand into her underwear, it was with feral abandon. It wasn't her palm, but Alice's pressing against her clit. It was not her fingers, but Alice's plunging into her.
She wanted Alice to take her, to consume her so that Claire would no longer be able to tell where she began and ended in Alice's arms, hands. She wanted to surrender her body to her and for Alice to take her, make Claire hers in every way. No limits or boundaries, just the two women submitting to their need. Claire grinded against her own hand until her body went rigid.
When she came, it was with a muffled cry. Her body shuddered and clenched around her own fingers. She thrust against Alice's hand, riding the torrential current of the orgasm until she was taken by another, until she finally sagged against the pitiful office desk. Her limbs were numb and tingling; Claire felt depleted as she tenderly slipped her own hand from her pants.
She wiped her fingers on her shirt, expelling a breath that sounded more like a sob. Raggedly, she inhaled and forced herself to slow her breathing, but her heart still thundered in her chest, in her ears, behind her eyes.
As the pleasure subsided, Claire felt empty. The flush of desire that colored her cheeks was tinged with shame. She was alone in a rundown gas station office that smelled of sweat and sex and old papers and dust.
For the second time that night, she cried. Only this time, Alice's hands weren't there to wipe away her tears.
Since I've been in a lovely hydrocodone stupor for the past week, I've been remiss at responding to reviews, but I do want to deeply thank everyone for all the lovely reviews and wonderful words of encouragement y'all have left me. I really appreciate it. Hearing that y'all like this story motivates me to keep on plugging away at it.
This was just kind of a filler chapter until I get back into the swing of writing. And well... I woke up in a "mood" of sorts.
Lastly, this week and this week only, when you leave a review, I will dispatch an entire fleet of invisible penguins to spread love and good cheer to you and a person of your choice. So act now before the penguin fleets are gone! Please review. :-)