Monica begins to creep up onto the bed, Tracy's stare is heavy, and misses nothing.
"Wait" she says, in a disapproving tone wagging a finger side to side
"What could possibly be the problem Tracy?" Monica quips back, a tad sarcastic, one knee perched on the beds edge.
Tracy clears her throat and points.
Monica brings her foot back to the floor, and looks first over her shoulder, then around the dim room, hands out to her sides in animated question. Had anything even been remiss, she would have never seen it in this lighting. This is frustrating at best. Monica's need has begun to dance on the razor edge. This delay, though she expected nothing less from Tracy, the prolonged payback as it where, was certainly annoying. Her legs began to shake.
"What!" she blurts
Tracy brings her hands over her own flat stomach, past her navel; they separate direction, one hand one hip, then the other. Monica swallows hard, her eyes glassy with hunger as she observes Tracy caressing herself.
After a slow teasing pass up and down her hips, she dips a hand between her own legs, and eases it back and forth. Lightning crashes on queue as if the storm itself is watching, and needed a better view.
Monica is beside herself, and begins to climb back up on the bed, and is stopped when Tracy ceases with a huff and a roll of her eyes.
"Will you stop toying with me? Monica bites.
The tone is close to anguish. She understands the weight of what she has given Tracy. She also understands the nature of the beast before her, and not for one second expected violins and angel's song in the throws of reciprocation. But this was already more then she could take.
Tracy extends herself on hands and knees towards Monica. She needs only to crawl a few paces, and she stops in front of the trembling woman.
"I was NOT toying with you!" she slips her fingers into the front of Monica's panties, pulls back and releases with a slight snap, looking at her with cocked eyebrow.
"I was just testing if you brushed up on your charades handbook"
The first wave of emotion hits Monica, foolishness. The second is irritation. The same that Tracy always brings out with in her. It is tight, and all consuming, and dripping with sexual tension.
"Fine" she snaps, as she slips the panties down, and stands up again, placing her hands flat on the bed, leaning mere inches from Tracy's face.
"Is there a chapter in the Tracy and Monica fucking handbook that is supposed to illustrate what happens next, or do you think you can wing it?"
"I think we are beyond "winging it" my friend, Tracy answers, A delicious ire rises as she comes back up to her knees.
She hoped Monica would let her be herself through this, not that she really had a choice honestly, she had not disappointed by any stretch so far.
Monica reaches for her face, and Tracy pushes her hand away, gently, yet with significance. Monica glares thunder sound, low, and menacing. She tries again, and is met the same way. The urge to snap back verbally is overwhelming.
Getting a clear bead on what Tracy intended would have been more of a mystery if not for a sly grin, and gleaming eyes made clear in a burst of white through parted blinds. Tracy needs to show a new definition of desire, without the desperate cloying feel of need, even if that is exactly what it is.
Tracy moves back, leaving a tempting space right in front of her again. This is no accident. It is all another piece of the biggest picture in these women's lives. She is on a course to show gratitude without showing weakness.
The storm continues its melodic song, the rain a steady metronome on thin glass, and wooden shutters. As the wind builds, it causes a haunting whistle though the gap in the French doors.
Monica leans towards Tracy, wanting her kiss again; as she is convinced it is the sustenance her soul has craved forever. Tracy still stops her not an inch from her mouth, with a hand planted just below her throat.
She manages to push forward, and finally succeed getting onto the bed; still Tracy holds her fast, allowing just the tips of their noses to brush, and then retreats, never once closing her eyes. Monica jumps as the storm delivers it's most abrupt clap thus far.
"It's only thunder Monica" Tracy says against parted lips, gliding her tongue tip teasingly along the bottom one while shifting her weight towards her. Monica has absolutely no choice but to follow Tracy's subtle play of dominance, and lay back against stacked pillows, extending her legs before her.
The wind sings its ghostly song, the play of light on Tracy's features is fantastic, one side glows warm orange from the nearby candle, the other shocks almost white as the lightning spark fills the room again.
This is so befitting the woman before her. Tracy has worn many faces, mother, sister, friend and foe. She has epitomized shrewdness and sensuality like a double edged sword. Now she was the very icon of fire and ice.
Tracy Quartermaine the daughter of the devil himself, with singed wings and a red hot halo.
Monica suddenly feels guarded. She absently covers her breasts with her hands, her legs draw up and touch at the knees, propped against the pillows, she is ever so slightly shy of horizontal.
Tracy slides beside her, leaning on one arm, she looks Monica over.
"I am more then a bit certain, it's not the storm scaring you Monica" Tracy states low and pleased as she circles Monica's bellybutton with a lazy finger, causing tingles to swarm in her stomach.
There was never a deeper truth spoken. It was not cocky, nor conceited like a moment ago. It was definitely painted with a coat of concern, which was an emotion in it's infancy for Tracy to express towards Monica. This was a whole new place for both women, especially Tracy.
This was fear coursing in Monica's veins. It fought a heated battle with lust as it pumped steady. Tracy had known in the very recent past that same sensation. Fear of discovering ones self. Fear of change, even if positive and long sought after.
Fear of physical surrender kicking open the doors to spiritual comfort.
Tracy can't help but wonder to herself, as she runs her hand over Monica's trembling thigh, towards her clasped knees, would there have been such juxtaposition had Monica not touched her very soul?
No, she would have taken this time to tear Monica apart. This would have been sheer subjugation had it simply been about sex.
It would have been quintessential Tracy, causing Monica to beg for relief, to twist this into another infamous power play. If winning meant Monica's pride being crushed, or her heart being broken, then it would have been worth it. That is how she always envisioned this carrying out, but reality was a different matter.
Tracy watches her hand cast quivering shadows in the candlelight. She draws herself closer beside Monica, cocked on her elbow. She places her hand on Monica's, and finds her eyes.
She laces her fingers with Monica's, and eases her hand away from the flesh she is guarding. After a reassuring squeeze she lets go, returning her touch to Monica's raised thigh, easing it down from its bent position with just a firm pressure.
She leans in and kisses under the curve of Monica's breast, sighing at how soft her skin is. She peppered more around, but not yet touching the responsive center that was hardening. Her hand traces the side of Monica's neck, lilting her thumb across her jaw line. She feels her swallow, her pulse rapidly beating just below her moist skin.
Lightning cast the room into a kaleidoscope of blue angles and pinstripes. Gooseflesh sweeps over Monica, her shuddering ebbs and flows with every breath.
Tracy bends a knee, draping her own thigh tentatively over Monica's, fingertips play down a blushing cheek, to trembling lips, as she scoots over further, bringing them face to face for a moment.
Monica looks at Tracy, beyond the rough exterior, beyond the formidable antagonist she always knew, and into her depth. Tracy has always been surrounded in barb wire, broken glass, land mines and locked gates. Anyone who got past any of those obstacles was certainly rare. To be where she was, in the hands, at the mercy of this unbridled, carnal beauty, was a gift to not take lightly.
Tracy smiles to herself wickedly. She could see the realizations one by one pass through Monica's psyche, illustrated with every anticipatory tremor
Monica, in turn, let her mind wrap around everything. The sound of Tracy breathing, the scent of her skin, mixed with the wind the crept thru the cracks of doors, and windows. The taste of her fingertips as she drew each one offered into her mouth, sucking, and teasing, as Tracy traced her lips. To Monica there was no sound on earth like the sweet sigh that escapes a hardened woman with a tender soul. The feel of Tracy shifting her position, delighted and surprised.
Thunder resonates with Monica's heart, as she lowers other her leg, and brings a hand up to Tracy's face, tracing a thumb from her eyebrow, down a perfect cheekbone, back to sensitive ear. The reality that Tracy was still giving, even now, is staggering. She welcomes her with open arms, and opened legs, though Tracy only first sits astride one thigh. This is heavenly. Her body is perfect. She can feel that river of tears from Tracy's soul, hot, and slick where she is straddled.
Monica weaves her free hand around the arched small of Tracy's back. A low moan, almost a purr, emits from Tracy as this contact reawakens her own arousal.
Tracy kisses the crook of Monica's shoulder, deep, caressing it with her tongue, suckling, and nipping. Her hair falls around Monica's face like a silken veil, as she finds Monica's warm, eager, mouth for a deep exploring kiss. Tracy brings herself up. She plants both hands on either side of Monica's shoulders, and eases her quad tight against Monica's ever conceding femininity.
Tracy's mind reels when the contact is made. It is a waltz of reaction. Monica's body rises slightly, and her head drops back into pillows with a moan. Tracy grinds slowly between soaked thighs. Monica's throat is tight, she brings once hand to her forehead moving her bangs, eyes heavy lidded, and barely open. She holds Tracy fast with the other, tight against the small of her spine. Her chin pointed towards the ceiling in the consummate gesture of acquiescence.
Tracy looks down at her prey. Sweat dapples her face and chest in a patina of surrender.
Monica draws her thigh equally tight into Tracy, evoking a growl before she closes her mouth hard against Monica's salty, sweet, neck, just below her ear.
Monica brings one hand to the back of Tracy's head, lacing fingers in soaked tresses and sinking manicured talons of the other into the small of her back, pulling her snugly between ever parting legs.
Tracy bites down on sensitive flesh, drawing hard in retort to the erotic sting of nails raking skin, a carnal breath from her nose like an animal, sucking hard, surely branding her with a fierce red mark.
A guttural "Fuck" cracks from Monica as she clings to Tracy. Without missing a beat, she moves from Monica's throat, and begins to kiss across Monica's collarbone, then her sternum. Back arched, elbows bent, she is the picture of seductive prowess. She finds Monica's mouth again.
That is something akin to air for them both at this point. Monica's body involuntarily quakes as Tracy's kisses her slow, deliberate, deep, her tongue warm, gliding over her own deliciously. Tracy brings her other leg over, which was difficult at best to relinquish that contact with Monica's thigh, sinking the kiss to a new depth. Belly to belly, Tracy nestled tight between spread legs. Tracy rocks into her once, then twice, feeling heat and moisture against the triangle of hair above her own aching sex. The kiss breaks just long enough for Tracy to whisper into Monica's ear.
"You want me to kiss your pussy that way don't you" she seethes breathy and low causing Monica to raise her hips, expel a wishful moan, and draw her foot up and down the outside of Tracy's calf.
Monica can't find words, she clings to Tracy, she is breathless, and shaky, and implores with her eyes. Tracy widens her thighs, looking down at Monica. This causes Monica to spread almost painfully wide, bending her knees up, she crosses her ankles together for stability and relief. The storm delivers a room shaking roar. Still propped on outstretched arms, Tracy, with a drive of her hips, pushes herself delightfully hard against Monica's scorching apex.
"Wait, wait, please…Tracy, don't ..." Monica stammers with a cracked whimper, and clutches the back of Tracy's neck. Her legs clasp hard around moving hips.
"Say it, Monica" Tracy declares with self assured venom. Monica writhes in frustration beneath her.
"You have to say it honey, or I swear to God, I will stop" Her tone is thick, controlled, and matter of fact.
Monica has bitten down hard enough on her own bottom lip, that she can taste blood. Sweat streams down her temples, her hands clench Tracy's backside, pulling her close as she can, as she raises herself yet again for contact.. Tracy resists the urge to kiss the crimson from her mouth, bringing her face close enough that she could with a mere flick of her tongue and states again.
"Where do you want me Monica" her hips move back and forth, she stares hard into Monica's eyes.
"Where do you need me Monica?" Droplet's of sweat bead, then cascade down Tracy's face, her back, arching, and tensing, equally slick. Monica's body feels everything amplified. Her vulva is swollen, and begins to ache with every move Tracy makes. But it is a fiercely good ache.
Monica is near panic that this will either go on this way forever, or stop abruptly.
She is a choir of breaths, and moans, sighs, and sentiment.
"You know where Tracy, please, don't do this, not like this, you know where" she is on the verge of tears as Tracy dips her head, to take one of her nipples into hot ardent mouth, Monica loudly releases a pained, shocked, groan, and brings her hands up to Tracy's shoulders.
"Tracy, you are evil" she can't contain the desperation, nor hide it. Tracy lets the nipple graze past her teeth as Monica's statement stops her ministration. She comes back up to face Monica.
"Thank you" she grins feral and wild eyed. "I suppose if evil means I want an answer, then evil I am"
Tracy reaches between them, holding herself up on one arm, trying to hide how badly its' shaking is not difficult, as Monica's trembling masks her own.
Monica prays this means contact, that it brings relief, as her need now is beyond reason, beyond anything she has ever known.
Tracy takes her hand and runs it up the outside of Monica's thigh, easing back to have a clear path, stopping her palm just covering her patch of downy hair as she crosses her hand between
"Is it here, Monica?" She draws her hips up, to meet Tracy's hand, she finds herself holding her breath as she looks into Tracy's pale blue eyes, made paler by the lightening washing the room with silver flashes.
"Right,( she edges down, fingertips graze her most sensitive area) here?"
The air cranks from Monica's lungs like a bellow stoking a fire, and is cut short into a jaw locking curse, when the touch leaves as quick as it came, and she is left to watch Tracy lick the wetness from an uplifted middle finger.
She didn't know whether to slap Tracy, or curl up and die. Tracy sees this plainly, and is just stunned by Monica's resolve up until now, and in silent awe of it beginning to crumble right before her eyes. It is the Sunday Morning newspaper glare times one thousand. It is the sniping, and fighting, and bitching 10 fold. It is the 30 years come to an agonizing head. Monica hates conceding to this woman now, loathes it, but knows it is the only way Tracy will give her what she has starved for.
Tracy coaxes, "come on baby, all that you want, is yours if you tell me" she bends and kisses her, Monica wraps arms tight around her neck.
She can taste her own essence along with a hint of blood from her bitten lip. Tracy can too, and it is magical, and primitive.
"You want me to devour you?" she speaks breath labored against Monica trembling lips. Thunder rolls in an endless echo. Monica's breathing is so shattered, and labored; she is spinning in light headed splendor. Tracy returns her hand between Monica burning legs.
"Do you belong to me now Monica?" her fingers sink into wet flesh
"Yes, god yes, please, no more teasing Tracy, I can't take it "Monica is quickly losing control of herself. She cannot stop panting, shaking, and clawing at her vanquisher, and that only intensifies Tracy's rule over her body.
"Then say it." Monica gives, and cries out angered, and outplayed
"Yes, Jesus Christ yes, fuck me Tracy, just fuck me please alright!"
Chills run rampant through Tracy's body,
"Thata girl" she says satisfied, taking a deep breath, and leaning to kiss Monica hard before she begins her descent, Monica pushing her by her shoulders, making no bones about the fact that she gave what Tracy wanted, and now she needed her reward.
Tracy kisses, and nips her way down Monica's body, loving the rise and fall of her stomach, the hardness of her nipples, the softness of the surrounding bosom.
She identified every spot Monica dabbed perfume on, below her navel, above her hip. She brings her arms, one at a time under Monica's thighs, breathing in her scent, while kissing the crook of her leg.
Wrapping her arms around, she lays her hands flat on Monica's stomach, and pulls her close with a tug.
Monica can feel Tracy's heated breath so close, and slinks fingers through Tracy's silken, wet hair, catching one last glance of Tracy looking up the length of her, before a searing tongue dips down to part her lips.
Her hips instantly lift off the bed, as she throws her head back. Tracy solids her grip moving hands down off of stomach, to hold where each thigh meets pelvis. Her tongue is relentless as it slides down to Monica's entryway, and back up, just ever so shy of her clitoris.
Tracy having never experienced this still knew without question this is what she had missed all her life, and could never go without again. She laps at Monica feverishly, painstakingly, and with a thirst she had never knew was possible. She keeps her word, and begins a new intimate "kiss" treating Monica's clit, like the tip of a reciprocating tongue, her opening like an inviting mouth.
Monica in turn rocks, and arches, draping a leg over strong shoulder, stroking Tracy's back with her foot. She is fighting her orgasm; she just can't bear for this to end so soon.
Tracy grazes her nails under Monica's ass cheek, behind the thigh that is over her shoulder, and positions that hand under her chin that is just drenched in Monica's arousal. Tracy finds herself absently grinding her own crotch against the bunched up covers between her legs.
She draws her tongue up through folds, as she brings two fingertips to Monica's opening. She hums passionately against her, closes her lips around her nub, and slides inside.
The feel of push and pull, suck, and plunge brings Monica hands to her side to gather fistfuls of duvet, and lifts her ass inches off the bed. The sound that accompanied this made Tracy's own thigh muscles clench.
The pace is found by Tracy, the earth is lost to Monica. She pumps fingers deep, curving upwards finding the spot that had eluded every lover in Monica's life until now. Along with the swirling suction of Tracy's tongue, Monica knew the fight was about to end.
She begins to buck, Tracy hold fast, Monica's pussy becomes almost impossibly tight, she can hear her name amid reference to god, and urging curses. This is the truth Monica found, and Tracy fully understood the weight of this gift, returned to the giver.
"Tracy!" she thrusts hard, deep as she can, circling clit with devastating pressure while suckling
"Tracy, I'm going to cum" It is a statement of beautiful fact that flows from Monica in husky broken breaths. Monica brings herself up onto elbows so she can watch Tracy at this moment. She rides her fingers hard as the warm crush of climax beings as a fire in her core, and radiates in an explosive shockwave through every nerve and muscle of Monica's body. Her head drops back, her cries drowned out the thunder, the rain outside was arid compared to the emotional dam that crumbled in Monica. She is carried on this new wave to exhaustion.
Tracy finds herself taking in every drop she can that pours from the woman crumpled before her. This is her spirit, her liquid essence and to Tracy an avid fan of power, devouring her is tantamount to being one with her.
Catching her breath, she climbs the length of Monica, kissing her belly, each breast, causing Monica to Jerk. She is just swept up in the moment, the storm, and the sated, spent woman beneath her own shaking body. She kisses her tenderly before she slides of to lie at Monica's side.
Monica is still trying to regain herself, tremors continue to come and go, as she turns on her side towards Tracy. Tracy raises her arm to allow Monica in. She rests a head on her shoulder, and drapes an arm across Tracy's slick body. They lay this way, all out of words until the storm fades to a gentle rain.
The literal heat of the moment past, the chill of the night comes calling. Tracy reaches down to grab the throw that fell from the bed. She pulls it up with one arm, covering them the best she can, Monica straightens the rest.
A deep sigh, mixed in feeling, not confusion, but feeling for each other, leaves them almost in stereo.
"Are you alright?" Tracy asks, too tired to open her eyes, running her hand up and down Monica's arm.
"Yes, yes I am," Monica smiles shyly, tracing Tracy's collarbone, she relaxes into this embrace. Closing her eyes to focus on Tracy's heartbeat, she lays this way for some time before a question arises.
"Tracy?' Monica lifts her head, and is brought to tears by the first time she has ever seen such peace on this woman's face. The tranquility that clings like an aura is gorgeous, almost innocent on her smooth rested expression. There is no answer, just the soft sounds of unfettered slumber, coming in sweet, hushed tones.
She lay's her head back down, her tear drops unnoticed on Tracy's skin, and she too falls asleep.