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Pass Me Through Your Fingertips

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“Why the fuck are you wearing makeup to the gym?”

Kaner looked up, flicking her sweaty hair out of her face. Jonny was standing in front of Kaner’s stationary bike, her arms folded across her chest and a frown on her face. Kaner groaned and frowned right back.

“Fuck you, I’ll wear makeup if I wanna,” she panted, putting on her best bitch face. Fuck Jonny and her judgemental bullshit at the best of times, but fuck it especially when Kaner was almost through her set and could hardly breathe, let alone think.

“You look ridiculous,” Jonny said snidely, and turned on her heel, ponytail bouncing obnoxiously. Kaner made a face at her back, and didn’t even let herself enjoy watching Jonny’s ass in stretchy workout gear because seriously. Fuck her.

“Seriously. Fuck you,” she gasped, mostly to herself, and closed her eyes.

The dumb thing was, Kaner didn’t normally wear makeup when working out, because fucking obviously. She’d just been running late, is all, and hadn’t had time to wash it all off after lunch with her baby sisters. She was already feeling gross about it, the foundation slipping down her face in an oilslick that was probably gonna make her break out yet again, and she knew her mascara had run and smeared under her eyes and it wasn’t hot, she wasn’t trying to look hot, even, and she shouldn’t care, but -

Jonny just had a way of being so goddamn put together right when Kaner wasn’t, and seriously, fuck her and her perfect wavy hair that never went frizzy and her tan skin that never seemed to get as red and blotchy and gross as Kaner’s, and her goddamn amazing tits that still looked awesome even strapped into the extravagant torture device Jonny liked to call a sports bra. Just.

She dropped her head to the handle of her bike and pushed herself for that last frantic rush to the end, all the while chanting ‘fuck you fuck you fuck you’ in her head. Her lipgloss had mostly smeared off, but she could still just taste it when she sucked on her lower lip, just a faint sugary mess left over. She’d felt awesome when she was at lunch. Why hadn’t goddamn Captain Perfect seen her then?

The bike beeped at her, and Kaner gratefully started her cool down, easing up on the pedals and slowly lifting her head.

Jonny was standing there staring at her. She silently held out a towel.

Kaner hesitated, staring back, until Jonny frowned again and shook it impatiently. “You want it or not?”

Kaner shrugged and reached out. Her nails were sparkly red, because yolo, and Jonny’s were perfect and short and neat. Their hands touched as Kaner grabbed the towel.

“Thanks,” Kaner said reluctantly, and Jonny almost smiled.

“Your nails look ridiculous,” she said, and smiled bigger as Kaner let her mouth drop open. “But I like them. Hawks red, that’s awesome.”

And then she turned away again and her and her bouncy hair and bouncy ass bounced their way over to the weights as Kaner watched, clutching at the towel and trying not to give in to the warm feeling bubbling up in her chest.


“Did you hear Erica Staal got engaged to that dude? I couldn’t believe it. I was so sure she was gay. I would have bet my left tit she was gay. I had money on it, Jesus.”

Kaner was sitting on the edge of her hotel bed diligently applying band aids to the insides of her new black heels and shouting in at Jonny, who’d been in the bathroom for approximately fifteen years. Like, what the fuck was she doing in there, she could put her makeup on in five minutes and look like a model - like a catalogue model, you know, for Target or something, not a catwalk model or anything, but still - and mostly she just did her hair in a ponytail and it looked fine. Not like Kaner, who still couldn’t get her head around her straightener no matter how many times Jessica tried to talk her through it over the phone. Whatever. Jonny was taking forever.

“Don’t gossip about Staal like that, it sounds so bitchy,” Jonny called back and Kaner tossed the box of band aids at the door.

“Hey, what the fuck, what’s with the b-word asshole?”

There was a rule.

There were four girls on the Blackhawks, which was tied for the most in the league but still wasn’t all that much, really, no matter what fucking Don Cherry had to say about it. And before Bollig had come up there’d only been Kaner and Jonny and Nikala Hjalmarsson, and way back before the first Cup they’d gotten together and decided on one rule that they had to all promise to abide by at all times. They needed to be able to chirp each other, they needed to be able to get into it and be part of the team and take it as much as they dished it out, but between the three of them - four, now - they weren’t ever allowed to use the words ‘bitch’, ‘slut’, ‘whore’ or ‘cunt’ as an insult. They got it enough from the boys they played against, they didn’t need to turn on each other like that too. The rest of the dudes on the team were cordially invited to get with the program as well, obviously - and by ‘cordially’ Kaner meant ‘regularly threatened with physical violence’ - but it was most important between the girls, somehow.

They all slipped up occasionally of course, they were fucking human, not the hockey playing fem-bots some people in the league thought they were. But they were never afraid to call each other out on it, and that was the way it had to be.

Kaner stood up, still glaring at the door, and stepped into her heels. They were so stupidly high, fuck, but they were so damn worth it. She was kind of short for a player, even a girl player, so any height advantage she could get she was willing to exploit. She stuck out a leg and looked down at her foot in satisfaction. Damn worth it.

Jonny stuck her head out the door, a contrite look on her face. “Sorry,” she said, and then widened her eyes as she looked Kaner up and down. “You’re wearing that?”

Kaner sucked in a deep breath and stuck out her chin. “Yeah?” she said, hands on her hips. “And?”

Jonny had her grade-A judgement face on. Awesome. “Nothing, it’s just.” She shrugged and let her eyes linger on the hem of Kaner’s dress, on her legs. “Its really short.”

“I’m really short,” Kaner said through gritted teeth, and turned around to rummage pointlessly through her giant purse, just so she wouldn’t have to look at Jonny’s dumb face for a minute. “It’s fine.”

It was a new dress, to go with the new heels. She’d picked it out with the help of her sisters, and she was kind of in love with it, like she never was with clothes. It had sleeves, which was cool because Bollig and Hammer owned their biceps, but Kaner still hadn’t managed to get over being a bit self-conscious about her arms and shoulders - dumb, yeah, but still. But the dress was black, and it had three-quarter sleeves, and it wrapped around her in a way where it made her look like she had an actual waist, not just a big mass of muscle where a waist should be. It was like magic.

It was also low cut enough that she couldn't really wear a bra, but considering she didn’t really have any tits to speak of, her sisters had promised her that it was fine. They’d taught her how to weave even more magic with Hollywood tape, and fuck, Kaner had felt so hot that she was willing to risk it, just for one night. Because fuck Jonny. Kaner couldn’t do this effortlessly, and she shouldn’t be expected to.

But now it was apparently too short. Fuck.


Kaner felt a soft hand on her arm, cutting through her slight internal panic. Jonny was next to her, looking contrite again, her bangs falling into her eyes.

“You are short. But it’ is fine. You look fine.”

“Fine? This is a really expensive fine dress.” Kaner smiled, trying to play it off as a joke. Jonny was wearing skinny jeans and a loose silver tank top that she was probably going to throw a plaid shirt over, because she was a fucking dork. Even though the shirt was designer and had probably cost as much as Kaner’s dress. And even though with Jonny’s body - Jonny with her waist and her enormous tits that she complained about all the time, and her muscles that were sleek and smooth and not chunky and weird like Kaner was so sure her’s were - with Jonny’s body she could get away with a lame outfit like that and look effortless. And. And sexy as fuck.

“Hey.” Jonny said again, and squeezed her arm. “Come on, Kaner. It’s fi - it’s great. You look great, okay?”

And oh, shit, there was that warm feeling again. Jonny had lined her eyes a little and put on some mascara, and they looked so big and dark and earnest, and shit, sometimes Kaner just wanted to slap her but now - now wasn’t one of those times.

“Okay,” she said, and let herself grin back properly. “Shit yeah. Hey, you ready to rip it up?”

Jonny laughed and shook her head. “Whatever you say, Kaner.”

“I mean it, Tazer baby. We’re gonna show those boys how it’s done.”

And Jonny looked her up and down one more time, before reaching out to tug a few curls into place, flicking her on the nose once for good measure.

“We always do,” she said, and her gaze was locked on Kaner’s and Kaner felt like she could take over the entire world.


Chelsea Dagger, Kaner thought, was the greatest song ever written by anyone ever.

She was screaming down the ice, screaming at the top of her lungs with the pure, uninhibited joy of scoring, of scoring on the ‘Yotes, because it was OT and it was the playoffs, and the game winner was hers and fuck Mike Smith, fuck all of them, she was the fucking best they were ever gonna see.

“That’s hockey, baby!” she yelled at the top of her lungs, her voice hoarse and breaking as Bicks slammed her into the boards with his own answering roar of joy. “That’s fucking hockey!”

“Kaner!” and that was Jonny, skating up and grabbing her around the waist, almost spinning her out of Bicks’ grip. “Fucking A, babe, good job!”

Kaner beamed up at her. The song was still playing, and the crowd was going insane for her, and now Duncs and Seabs were muscling into the scrum as the rest of them piled over the boards to get to them, to her. But it all faded away, because Jonny was holding onto her and she looked so damn proud and she was looking at Kaner.

“Good job.”

And Kaner threw her head back in the midst of them all and screamed just one more time in jubilation, with the long, solid press of Jonny’s body a constant line at her side.


“You know what?” Kaner said, laying on her bed and staring up at the ceiling in the dark. On the phone, Jonny groaned.

“Kaner, why are you even calling me? It’s late, you’re drunk, go to sleep. Shut the fuck up and go to sleep.”

“No, no, I’m telling you something important here. I’m saying, Jonny…” Kaner trailed off, and kicked her shoes haphazardly into the depths of her bedroom. She’d pulled her dress over her head and dumped it on the floor when she’d gotten in, because there were messy splotches of something pink and sticky and possibly highly flammable all over it. Why did guys always wanna buy her drinks like that? What the fuck was wrong with nice, normal tequila shooters? Why did everything have to have fruit in it? Anyway, she’d been sticky and gross all over, and now - actually, she still was, but in a different way, and it was nice to just lie there in her underwear and let the air conditioner blow gently over her body. She wriggled her toes. Nothing felt as good as taking her heels off at the end of the night. Fucking skates were more comfortable.

“...Kaner? Kaner, did you fall asleep?”

“What? No, Jonny, I’m here, don’t hang up, I wanna talk.”

Jonny sighed, like she had more important things to be doing in the offseason in Winnipeg.

“Don’t you have sisters for that?”

Kaner snorted. “My baby sisters don’t wanna hear about my night of drunken debauchery.” She was pretty proud of that one. And she’d barely even slurred it.

“Why do you think I wanna hear about your night of drunken debauchery?” Jonny asked in that deliberately flat and toneless voice that meant she was secretly totally interested. Hah.

“Well, because you live vicariously through me because you never ever get laid ever, obviously,” Kaner said, and trailed her fingertips over her bare stomach. Her abs were so great, even if they did make everything fit funny. Fuck everyone. Her core was like a fucking rock, and she should be proud of it.

“You got laid tonight? Send the high school football team my love,” Jonny said dryly, and Kaner rolled her eyes.

“So weak, dude. It’s like you don’t even know that I would absolutely at least hold out for the college football team, oh my god.”

That got a laugh at least, and Kaner grinned to herself.

“Yeah okay. But what was so fucking important that you had to call me at two in the morning?”

Kaner squinted at her clock, and tried to remember. Something important. Something about…

“Oh, yeah. So, um, I think I’ve decided I’m gonna swear off dick for a while.”

She waited until Jonny got her over dramatic gasps of shock and surprise out of the way, and then went on.

“You know, not because I don’t like dick, obviously. I mean, dick is so awesome. I mean. Just this thing that happened. And also, I’m just so sick of goddamn men.”

Jonny hummed. “I can see how that’d be a problem.”

“Right? Like, this dude tonight, he was ripped as shit, and he was so good looking I just wanted to slap him, you know? But he kept treating me like a little girl.”

“You are kind of a little girl,” Jonny mumbled. Kaner snorted.

“Shut the fuck up, asshole. It’s just. He kept buying me these pink cocktail things, you know, like I said I wanted tequila and he came back with a strawberry margarita and it was just so fucking lame.”

“I mean, you do like strawberry margaritas, though,” Jonny said reasonably. Kaner rolled over onto her stomach and reached behind her one-handed to snap off her bra. It was white, and had a bit of a neon pink stain on the lacy bit around the top.

“Not when assholes in bars buy them for me,” she said, all moody. “He thought he could buy me off with cherries on a stick.”

“But you fucked him?”

“What?” Kaner scrunched up her nose.  “No. I fucked his friend.”

Jonny laughed softly. “Lucky him.”

Kaner pushed her face into the pillow for a second, knowing she was getting makeup all over it, and being briefly annoyed at her mother for suggesting she get white linen.

Then she took a deep breath and said. “No, his friend was a chick.”

Jonny was silent.

Kaner rolled back onto her back, and softly ran her fingers down her stomach again. There were traces of pink lipgloss still smeared here and there, on her side, at her hip bone, on the lace of her panties, too. Bright pink, and sticky.


Jonny made a soft noise. “Yeah, I’m here. Huh. So.”


Kaner let her eyes drift shut. The chick’s name had been Ella, and she’d loved Kaner’s abs. She’d also called her Patricia, but Kaner was willing to give her a pass on that because of the abs thing.

“So that’” Jonny asked carefully, and Kaner wondered if she was just projecting the little note of hurt into Jonny’s voice, or if it was really there.

“Um, yeah, mostly,” Kaner said. “I made out with a couple of chicks when I was in high school and stuff, but nothing really - nothing really like this. So. Yeah, it’s new.”

She listened to Jonny breathing for a while, eyes closed, fingernails scratching gently back and forth just under her belly button. The air conditioner was starting to feel just a little too cold, making her nipples hard and sensitive, but she was too lazy to get under the covers. Also, she was still a bit drunk and something about this, lying here after what she’d been out doing, naked and open and baring herself to Tazer… Something about it felt guiltily good.

“Did you like it?” Jonny asked, and Kaner had to laugh softly.

“I just said I was swearing off dick for a while, didn’t I?” she said, and Jonny chuckled.

“Okay, okay.”

“Yeah, it was good,” Kaner added, and bit her lip. “It was really good.”


Jonny sounded non-committal and vague, like she was maybe like she was about to fall asleep. Kaner thought she knew better.

“You got anything to say about this, dude?”

Kaner could almost hear the shrug. “Like what?”

“I fuck girls sometimes, right? Like, shouldn’t you - “

“I don’t see why that’s relevant,” Jonny snapped, and Kaner blinked, surprised and a little hurt.

“Well, fine,” she said in a small voice, and rested her hand on the bed beside her, curled into a fist. “Fine, then, it’s not. Go to bed.”


“I just thought you’d want to know, because you’re like, one of my best friends. I thought you might have some advice for me, is all. But whatever, man, fucking get your beauty sleep and be a dick about it, I just had a life changing experience and all but who the fuck cares.”

“Kaner, shut up.”

Jonny’s voice was quiet, but Kaner did as she was told, because she was tired and drunk and because, well, because when it really counted with Jonny, she normally did.

“You really liked it?” Jonny asked, and Kaner chewed on her lip.

“Uh huh.”

“Okay, good. That’s awesome for you. I’d tell you not to fuck random girls in bars, but you normally fuck random dudes in bars so what the hell. And you know, good for you.”

“Good for me?” Kaner repeated sleepily. It was finally getting cool enough to bother kicking the blanket out from underneath her and pulling it back up. She snuggled under, the sheets soft against her bare skin, and clutched the phone to her ear.

Ella had worn a really sweet perfume, the kind Kaner wouldn’t have picked for herself but that she really liked on someone else. She could still smell it in her hair, a bit of it mixed with the smell of Ella’s pussy on her fingers when she raised her free hand to her mouth, tracing it over her lips.

“Yeah, good for you,” Jonny was saying. “But you need to sleep, and so do I.”

“Okay, Jonny. Jonny?”

Kaner tried to picture her, in her flannel pj pants and a tank top, probably curled up in her own bed miles and miles away. She braided her hair at night, and the end curled perfectly around the jut of her collar bone when she pulled it over her shoulder. Kaner wondered why she even knew that tiny detail, why she even thought about it.

Kaner sighed. “Sweet dreams, I guess.”

Jonny paused for a second before answering.

“Yeah, Kaner. You too.”


Kaner stepped out of the bathroom, singing at the top of her lungs and scrubbing her towel through her hair, to find Jonny lounging on her hotel bed staring at her with wide eyes.

“Oh my god, put some clothes on!” Jonny shrieked, and Kaner instinctively clutched her towel to her chest.

“Oh my god, you’re in my hotel room!” she shot back, and edged over to her suitcase, feeling her face turning bright red.

It wasn’t like Jonny hadn’t seen her naked before. They’d seen each other naked a bunch, especially back when they were roomies. It wasn’t even a thing. Except, somehow, pulling off her pads in the locker room and shoving them in Jonny’s face wasn’t really the same as being caught sauntering around her room completely nude and fresh from, oh fuck, getting herself off with the detachable showerhead.

Oh god, what if Jonny had heard her?

“How long have you been here?” she demanded, wrapping the towel firmly around her body, even though it was obviously too short and just, completely inadequate when Jonny was staring at her, fully dressed in jeans and a teeshirt like she owned the place.

“I called out!” Jonny protested. “When I came in, I yelled and I thought - I thought you heard me. Uh.” She was staring at Kaner’s thighs, and Kaner looked down self consciously, clutching at her towel.

“Well, obviously not,” Kaner said. She was dripping all over the place, her hair took forever to dry and the long curls were wet and cold against her back and over her shoulders. She found herself feeling insanely grateful that she’d shaved her legs before getting herself off. Because obviously that was the important thing here. Jonny could see her pubes but heaven forbid she have hairy legs. Jesus.

“I just, like. Wanted to know if you wanted to watch a movie or something,” Jonny said, finally moving her eyes away from Kaner’s thighs. “We could have a few beers, or…”

“No, yeah, sounds good,” Kaner said quickly, and tried to wring some water out of her hair with her hands, make a small waterfall cascade down her body.

Jonny’s mouth was hanging open. “Oh, for…” she sighed, and then she was getting up and going into the bathroom, and Kaner closed her eyes in mortification for a minute, because seriously. Jonny was just so fucking perfect all of the time, and Kaner was just such a mess and it was so tiring. Like, she shouldn’t care right? And normally Kaner owned her shit and loved herself or whatever the team sports psychologist was always saying, but Jonny just had a way of making her feel so exposed, and -


And there Jonny was again, a fresh towel in her hands. “Sit,” she said quietly, and led Kaner over to the bed, pushing her gently down. And then she was gathering up Kaner’s hair in her hands, pushing it back over her shoulders. “Your hair is so,” she started, and then just shook her head. “Jesus, Kaner.”

Kaner sat there quietly as Jonny stood before her and started drying it, rubbing the towel through it over and over in a way that Kaner knew from personal experience would just end up in knots and then frizz, but which she couldn’t bring herself to make Jonny stop.

Jonny was just so close, and so warm, and her hands felt so, so good as they scrubbed through Kaner’s hair. Her teeshirt was an old gray one Kaner had seen her wear a million times, a few little holes in the hem and the neck stretched all out of shape. And her jeans were too tight around the hips and ass, as always, and all Kaner would have to do would be lean forward and…

She looked up, instead, biting hard at her bottom lip. Jonny was looking down at her.

“Hey,” Kaner said softly, and Jonny dropped the towel to the floor.

“Hey, Kaner.”

The were quiet for a minute, just looking. Then Jonny let out a low sigh, and lifted a trembling hand before tracing a finger delicately over Kaner’s shoulder and down the outside of her arm.

Kaner shivered, eyes fluttering, and Jonny smiled.

“I love your shoulders,” she said simply, and Kaner felt warmth explode inside her, her heart pounding so hard she could feel it in her fingertips.


“Really.” Jonny nodded, and trailed her fingers back up before resting them on the swell of muscle next to Kaner’s neck. “Your body is amazing, Kaner. It’s made for hockey, you know that? It’s perfect.”

“I…” Kaner didn’t know what to say, because that, coming from Jonny who practically was hockey, seemed like the kind of compliment that couldn’t just be laughed off.

Fuck. Kaner hadn’t felt this sexy in...ever.

She sucked on her lips for a minute longer, and then said. “I never thought you’d noticed.” Noticed me, she didn’t add.

Jonny shook her head. “I always notice you.”

Her hair was loose tonight, and soft and smooth and shiny like Kaner’s never was. Her waist was comparatively tiny in between her hips and her tits, like she had comic book heroine proportions, like that shouldn’t even be allowed in the real world. She was strong and tall and athletic, and she was so beautiful that sometimes it hurt Kaner to even look at her.

But she was looking at Kaner like maybe she felt the same way.

Kaner reached up and pressed her palm to Jonny’s waist. Felt her strength and warmth.

She smiled.

“I always want you to.”

And then she was leaning up, and Jonny was leaning down, and somehow, they met in the middle.


Jonny had never not noticed Kaner.

Kaner had masses of frizzy blonde curls that she didn’t know what to do with, wide blue Barbie doll eyes, and pouty lips that were almost too big for her face. She had freckles scattered over her nose, the apples of her cheeks, and across the broad lines of her amazing shoulders. She had hands that could make you cry, and feet so quick and sure that sometimes she could take Jonny’s breath away just by skating.

She had thick, compact muscle in her stomach, and narrow hips, more hard muscle all down her short legs, and Jonny couldn’t understand how Kaner could hate her body so much, when it made her so perfect for hockey, sturdy and quick and flexible. Strong and so, so fast on the ice that she was like a blur.

Kaner had mascara and eyeliner that always smudged into the smile lines around her eyes, and foundation that was forever either a shade too dark or light. She had sweat pants and short-shorts, graphic tees and about forty different hoodies, and she wore sneakers everywhere except for when she was trying to make an impression. But then occasionally she had heels that were way too high, heels that stressed Jonny out even to look at, and that left Kaner moaning with sore feet and blisters, her calf muscles aching and tense.

She had dresses that were too short, and lipstick that was too bright, and a habit of falling over in bars until she kicked off her stupid shoes and dragged someone onto the dance floor, laughing and yelling and having the time of her life.

And Kaner had hockey, had the talent and the skill to do things that Jonny could only dream of, that had all the boys on the team panting after her in a way that Jonny was ninety percent sure wasn’t even sexual. Kaner could score goals, and she could make the opposing defence look like fucking idiots, and she could race down the ice and have a million eyes on her and make the shot and make them all eat out of the palm of her hand.

But most of all, what Kaner had was Jonny. Jonny’s attention, Jonny’s - Jonny’s notice. She always had. And finally, finally Kaner was starting to look back.

Jonny curled her hand around Kaner’s shoulder, her thumb pressing gently into the firm muscle, and kissed her soft and sweet, closing her eyes. Kaner’s lips were full and wet and chapped, and her skin was still warm and wet from her shower. It was perfect, it was -

“Jesus fucking Christ, Jonny, kiss me like you mean it.” Kaner pulled back, and Jonny snapped her eyes open, frowning. Kaner was smiling, eyebrows raised, and when she was sure she had Jonny’s attention she sucked her lower lip into her mouth before dragging it back out between her teeth.

Jonny swallowed.

“That shit might work on the boys on the varsity lacrosse team, Kaner, but it sure as fuck doesn’t work on me,” she said dryly, keeping her voice as flat as she could when she was so turned on she could hardly see straight.

Kaner laughed at her. “Oh it doesn’t, huh. Okay, how about this?” She tugged at her towel, still with that smart-assed little smirk, and then leaned back on her hands as it loosened and slipped down her body to pool in her lap.

“Uh,” Jonny started, and fuck it, it was really hard to be on her A-game when Kaner’s tits were right there, small and perky, with her little pink nipples already hard and just begging for Jonny’s mouth. “Yeah, okay, that works.”

Kaner laughed again, but she sounded shaky, relieved. “Well what the fuck are you waiting for?”

“It’s just nothing but romance with you, is it,” Jonny bitched, but Kaner actually had a decent point so, okay. She leaned back in, brushing her lips softly down the side of Kaner’s neck to make her shiver, and then lower, over the sharp ridge of her collar bone.

“Jonny, Jonny, c’mon dude,” Kaner whined, and tangled one of her hands in Jonny’s hair, trying to tug her down. “C’mon, babe, kiss me, just - oh, shit yeah.”

Jonny ducked down and wrapped her lips around Kaner’s right nipple, sucking hard and biting gently, licking at her until Kaner was squirming, pulling Jonny in closer. Jonny let her for a minute, and then dropped to her knees in between Kaner’s legs, the towel still caught between them, and switched to the other side, rubbing the palms of her hands up Kaner’s abs, over to that hard, warm knot of muscle at her side, and then around to her back, pulling her in closer in a tight hug.

“Oh, God,” Kaner said, and dropped her head down, nudging at Jonny until Jonny pulled her mouth away and raised her head into another kiss, harder this time, more frantic. Fuck, it was so good, sweet and rough, an edge of desperation creeping in because she’d wanted this for so long, and she’d never thought she’d have it, and Kaner - ugh, Kaner had made her wait.

“Let me,” she mumbled, and pushed Kaner back on the bed, climbing up next to her and touching the towel still draped over Kaner’s hips. “Let me.”

“Yeah, yes,” Kaner said without hesitation, and ripped the towel away, flinging it across the room so dramatically that Jonny almost cracked up as they paused to watch it drape over a lamp.


Kaner, being Kaner, did crack up at that. “You fucking loser, forget the towel! I’m naked here, you dickhead!” She was giggling and punching Jonny in the shoulder, and Jonny was just so helpless. She dropped her head, kissed Kaner all over her face, while Kaner laughed and wriggled under her, arms wrapped tight around Jonny’s shoulders.

“Naked!” Kaner said again, and got her hand back in Jonny’s hair, pulling her away. “Are you even going to look at me?”

“I look at you all the time,” Jonny said without thinking, and then had to glance away from Kaner’s face, because wow, yeah, that was a lot to admit.

Kaner just kept laughing, though, softly. “So do more than look this time,” she said.

Okay. Jonny could - yeah.

She propped Kaner up against the pillows, spreading her out exactly how Jonny wanted, on her back with her legs stretched out before her. And Kaner was just so good, so easy, letting herself be moved, only protesting about Jonny’s clothes, as if - as if Jonny was the important thing. Jonny sighed and pulled off her tee, self conscious about her old gray sports bra for a second until Kaner demanded that come off too, and her jeans. Then they were naked together and Kaner was touching her, her small, strong hands warm as they groped at Jonny’s tits, callused and sure, And she was still lying where Jonny had put her and it was like heaven.

“I wanna kiss you all over,” Jonny said, leaning up next to Kaner and surveying her body, pink and soft and perfect. “I’m gonna. Okay? Everywhere.”

“Yes, please,” Kaner said faintly, and Jonny had to smile.

“That is the first time you’ve ever said please to me,” she said, scraping her nails lightly over Kaner’s tits, circling them around her nipples. Kaner was arching into it, eyes half closed, lips gone even puffier than usual with arousal.

“So reward me for being such a good girl,” she whispered, and that hit Jonny like a tonne of bricks.

“You use that line on all the girls?” she asked, but her voice was hoarse, and Kaner knew, fuck her, knew exactly what something like that would do to Jonny.

“Nah, babe,” she said, and spread her legs. “That one’s just for you.”

Jonny closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

“Good,” she said, and wiggled down the bed, gripping Kaner’s thighs and opening her up, settling in between her legs like that was where she belonged. “Keep it that way.”

“You got anything better you could be doing with that mouth?” Kaner’s voice was low and rough with want, the muscles in her thighs trembling.

“What was that magic word again?” But Jonny was already moving in, her fingers on Kaner’s cunt, pressing at her, feeling where she was so soft and wet.

Fuck…” Kaner hissed, and whatever, Jonny thought, that was close enough.

She smiled to herself as she started licking, light, teasing strokes that got harder and more intense as Kaner opened up, started falling apart around her.

Yeah, she thought vaguely, as she lost herself in the taste of Kaner, the tight, slick warmth of her. Yeah, she’s noticing me now.