Under the covers, they duck their heads together and talk: quiet, unhurried words filled with renewed sentiments. They used to do this a long time ago, in hotels on the opposite side of the country, where the world inside was theirs and only theirs.
"It's not a big deal, babe."
"No, really." Bayley looks at Sasha through glistening lashes, and Sasha pulls her into her naked chest for a tight hug. It should be annoying, having to deal with a girlfriend whose emotions bubble up after sex, but Sasha surprises herself by enjoying the honesty, the glimpse inside. "It wasn't so bad when she talked over the presentation, but when she started picking holes in my pitch, I thought I was going to snap at someone."
Sasha sets her lips in a thin line.
"I nearly smacked Charlotte in her smug little face the second she opened her mouth," she says, and Bayley's giggle ripples over her skin. Their bodies shift against one another; they find stability in this touch when the whole corporate kingdom seems to be hanging by a thread.
"You didn't have to stand up for me, but I'm glad you did."
"Yeah." Sasha wipes the stray tear from Bayley's cheek. "Me too."
Bayley raises her head and looks at her with playfulness, adjusting the crumpled white sheets under her arms before smiling nervously, as if she wants something. Sasha cocks an eyebrow in response. Bayley slips her arm around Sasha's waist.
"We've already celebrated my promotion... So, how about we celebrate your victory?"
"An approved design isn't worth celebrating."
Bayley traces her index finger over the bones in Sasha's hips. "Mm, you looked really good in that mauve pencil skirt."
"I know." Sasha sits up, letting the sheets fall around her, the cool air pouring over her sensitive skin. "If you wanna go again, just say it."
Bayley beams and kisses a trail along Sasha's neck, leaning into the warmth and beauty of her light brown skin. Her hands work Sasha's breasts, tweaking a nipple and drawing out a gasp. She licks the pad of her thumb and slips her fingers between Sasha's quivering thighs. Though Sasha's eyes are closed, her head leaning back in anticipation, she can feel the intensity of Bayley's gaze upon her naked body.
"I missed you," says Bayley. Sasha shakes her head; she opens her eyes and turns her gaze away. The adoration drips from Bayley's voice. "Working at NXT Corp. wasn't the same when you left."
"Nobody to fuck in the supply closet?" teases Sasha, cupping Bayley's cheek as she flushes.
"I was happy for you, then," Bayley says, her lips moving over Sasha's with every word. "Just like you're happy for me now."
This is what she likes about Bayley. They can fuck as easily as they can talk; Bayley can pour herself onto Sasha and Sasha can take every ounce of her, every chipped tooth and every overworked sigh, all with a neutral face behind an emotive mask. She smiles inwardly. It's like Bayley's forgotten they used to be rivals in a world where rivalries killed careers.
Sasha pulls back. She wraps her hands in Bayley's loose brown hair and pulls her in for a deep, mesmerising kiss, a passionate crushing of lips and breasts and sweat-soaked skin. The friction between them and the sheets is enough; Bayley comes quickly, lips parted in a gasp as her eyelids flutter shut. Sasha watches, moaning loudly as she rolls through her own fauxgasm.
It's like Bayley's forgotten who poured laxatives into her coffee on her first day, who sabotaged her first solo marketing campaign, who spread rumours about Bayley exchanging certain favours for footholds on her way to the top.
"I'm happy I've got you, now," she murmurs into Bayley's neck, and doesn't mean a single word.