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I Want Your Drama, the Touch of Your Hand

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Vivian is definitely the most annoying roommate Elena has ever had. She’s astonishingly spoiled and even more self-centered, she seems to spend half her time flirting with people, and in spite of all that she seems to be sailing through her classes, which interferes with Elena’s attempts to dismiss her completely.

Elena is really not sure why they’re currently tangled together on Vivian’s pink satin duvet with Vivian’s hands buried in her hair and her own hands sliding under the hem of Vivian’s blouse, but she’s sure there’s a good reason. Probably there’s even a reason that doesn’t involve her snapping halfway through Vivian’s umpteenth monologue on how incredibly dull the boys here are and flinging herself across the room.

It’s…going better than she was expecting, which is sort of unsettling.

Part of the problem is that Vivian is good at this—kissing is the first thing Elena’s ever seen her do where she seems to care about how much fun other people are having—and part of the problem is that Elena hasn’t gotten laid in months and, unlike some people, doesn’t believe in relieving the tension while someone else is trying to sleep across the room. Her breasts are tightening in a way that would embarrass her if she weren’t in the middle of a horizontal makeout session or anyone else were watching—she can feel the brush of cloth across her nipples—and there’s heat building low in her stomach.

“Pay attention,” Vivian says, and kisses Elena again, wet and open and kind of messy in the way that Elena had decided she was completely disgusted by when it was random boys Vivian kept bringing back and then abandoning at the door but which, she finds now, is disturbingly hot.

She’d be a lot more bothered about apparently having fallen for her roommate if her roommate weren’t so gleefully yanking her further down.

Elena moves her head, licking along Vivian’s jaw to nip very gently at her earlobe, and Vivian gasps “oh” and twists them so she’s pretty much sprawled on top of Elena, her skirt crumpled around her waist and their thighs slotted together. “I thought you were straight,” she says rather grumpily as she starts working Elena’s shirt up.

“Not so much, really,” Elena says, trying to figure out whether she is actually going to have to unbutton the tiny mother-of-pearl buttons down the front of Vivian’s blouse or whether it will go off over her head.

“Well, obviously I see—no, you have to unbutton it.” Vivian sits up so Elena can actually get to the buttons. “I see that now, but you were so immune to everything I tried that I’d completely given up and resigned myself to a lonely future.”

Elena stops with three buttons to go and says, “What?”

Vivian waves a hand. “The trying to make you jealous—I mean, some of them were quite nice, don’t get me wrong, but I had a goal.”

“You could have asked,” Elena says, resuming her attack on the buttons. Vivian’s blouse falls open and Elena swallows hard. She’d thought she was prepared for Vivian’s underwear from having seen Vivian’s swimsuit, but she’s pretty sure nothing would have prepared her for Vivian in a lavender lace bra with nothing except a scrap of transparent gauze behind the lace, sheer enough that she can see the slightly darker pink of the areolae where the cloth strains over Vivian’s nipples. “Uh.”

“You like it?” Vivian looks down. “Maybe I should have just walked around naked.”

Elena pulls her own shirt off while Vivian is admiring herself and tries not to feel underdressed in the baby-blue cotton bra she’s wearing because she wasn’t expecting anyone would see it. It’s a stupid thing to worry about, but if you spend enough time around Vivian you start, God forbid, understanding how she sees the world. “If you’d walked around naked I would—mmf.”

Vivian goes from kissing her—and Elena is absolutely sure that when her ex-boyfriend sucked on her tongue she thought it was just a way of passing the time, but somehow when Vivian does it she’s getting tingly all over—to tracing the tendons of her throat with her tongue, and Elena shivers hard and somehow her hands end up on Vivian’s bra clasp, unfastening it.

“Oh good,” Vivian says against her collarbone, “I was wondering when you’d remember it’s not a spectator sport.”

Just for that, Elena throws her bra across the room. Vivian leans to follow its path and Elena licks across the side of her breast, which is terrible as far as negative reinforcement goes but gets a rather desperate gasp from Vivian, so, all in all, a win.

Vivian flops over on her back against the pillows and says, “Please don’t stop,” and Elena isn’t sure she’s ever heard Vivian say please, certainly not the first time she’s ever asked for anything, and she wants to anyway, so she does. Vivian actually moans when Elena’s mouth closes over her nipple, and, God, if it had been distracting as hell listening to her gasps and whimpers and the wet noises of skin on skin across the room in the dark it’s so much more so now.

Elena squeezes her thighs together, way too aware of the seams in her jeans, and wonders what Vivian’s description of not a spectator sport is, because, okay, Vivian is gorgeous, but—

“Here,” says Vivian, tugging at Elena’s shoulders, and then she’s managed to unfasten Elena’s bra one-handed and is rubbing the red lines the elastic leaves along Elena’s ribs, something that feels so good Elena could probably have been soothed if she were slightly less turned on. “You should get better bras,” Vivian adds, and it’s such a Vivian thing to say that Elena feels a weird spike of affection which goes scorching when Vivian’s thumbs sweep up over her nipples and Vivian sucks a kiss over the pulse point in her throat. It’s going to leave a pink mark and Elena really, really doesn’t care. “And lose the jeans, they’re kind of uncomfortable against my legs.”

“Get off me, then,” Elena says, completely in favor of this plan. She gets tangled up in the legs because she’s so eager to get them off, and then Vivian helps tug and they are off, and Vivian leans back over her in a long stretch of bare skin against almost-bare skin, just Elena’s bikini briefs and Vivian’s skirt and whatever she’s wearing under it left. Elena’s pretty sure she’s nearly soaked through her briefs, especially with the way they feel against her when Vivian leans back over her and starts kissing her way down Elena’s chest, thigh pressing between Elena’s legs, but at this point it really doesn’t matter and Elena pushes her hips up tighter against Vivian because it feels so damn good.

Vivian’s skirt zips up the side, as Elena finds out when she’s clutching at Vivian’s hips because they’re the available part of Vivian’s body least likely to turn this back into All About Vivian, and Vivian shifts encouragingly and, okay, Elena has to admit she’s curious about whatever the counterpart to the lavender bra was.

It turns out to be a scrap of lavender satin, damp-dark in the center, scanty enough that Vivian doesn’t even have to take it off for Elena to see that, yes, she actually is that blond. Elena gets the lavender thing about down to Vivian’s knees when she makes the mistake of looking up at Vivian—sex-flushed and panting for breath, with her eyes and mouth dark and her breasts heaving—and loses her self-control and abandons the panties, stroking back up Vivian’s thighs. Vivian kicks the scrap of cloth the rest of the way off, almost kneeing Elena in the stomach, and moans, “Oh, God, yes, that’s it” as Elena circles wet fingers over her clit.

This is quite possibly going to kill Elena. Vivian is a talker when she’s not trying to be discreet. Elena sort of wants to suspect her of faking—just to make it slightly less painfully arousing to listen to her—but she’s hot and slick, her hips shifting just a little against Elena’s hand in motions too small and erratic to be anything but real, and when Elena slides a finger inside her Vivian cries out, muscles fluttering around Elena, and then gasps, “Hold on.”

Elena presses her free hand between her legs, leaning into it, and says, “Holding.” She’s giving Vivian about five seconds before she goes back to her own bed and finishes herself off. The hell with manners, at this point.

“There’s—” Vivian’s voice is wrecked. “There’s a dildo in my nightstand, pink box. Fuck me.”

Jesus,” Elena says, rocking against the heel of her hand. “Yeah. Okay.”

The box is dusty with neglect and Elena almost drops it her hands are shaking so badly, and she briefly considers abandoning the whole thing when Vivian says “Slow but not too slow” as if that will be any help at all, but when she gets it out—it’s dry to the touch, clean, which is a relief—Vivian’s breath catches and, okay, this probably isn’t a bad plan after all.

It’s dark purple silicone and sort of abstract in shape, curved and simplified, and Elena isn’t really sure how cocks work from the giving end, but it can’t be that difficult because guys manage it all the time while not really in any condition to do math, so she strokes it carefully up and down over Vivian’s entrance until the tip is shiny-wet, then brushes it up over Vivian’s clit as light as she can.

“No, seriously,” says Vivian, “fuck me.”

Elena would sell her right leg for a third arm right now, but that isn’t an option, so she just steadies the dildo and angles it carefully, sliding it in and holding Vivian sort of still with a hand on her hip—it goes easily, and Vivian arches into it, legs parted and her whole body eager, breathing hard. “Okay?” Elena asks, her voice scraping hoarsely over the word.

Vivian moves a little against it and says, “Faster.” When Elena pushes the next inch or so in all at once Vivian makes a noise that’s barely even human, absolutely desperate, and catches her breath and begs, “God, God, there, don’t stop,” and Elena wonders whether she’s going to die from sexual frustration or come untouched, because she’s out of other options.

She’s getting the hang of the dildo, though, watching it slide in and out of Vivian’s body as Vivian pushes up to meet it, and then Elena gets confident enough that she’s not going to break Vivian to move the hand on Vivian’s hip over to her clit, and that’s it, Vivian actually fucking screams when she comes, and Elena feels her pulse throbbing through her entire body, she’s wound so tight she’s shaking and if—

Their next-door neighbor bangs on the wall and yells “Shut up, will you?”

Vivian presses her fingers against the front of Elena’s briefs as she hooks her thumb over the waistband and it would have been nice to actually get naked but that first touch does it.

“She’s just jealous,” Vivian says with a tilt of her head towards the wall, grinning smugly up at Elena, and even once she gets her breath back Elena can’t actually bring herself to disagree out loud.