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Like Flame

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This, Waverly thinks, is what fire must feel, released to roar free and frenzied as it claims all. Spark and heat reaching up, up, always up, spiraling skyward, no purpose but to gloriously burn. She is flame, nothing but flame, under Nicole’s hand.

She needs to burn to ash.

They’ve been at the park, it had been the annual sheriff and fire departments’ picnic, and of course Nicole had been recruited to play in the softball game. Even Nedley hadn’t quite realised what a ringer he’d acquired. Nicole had gone six for eight on the day, with two homers, and had made an unassisted double play at second, Waverly knows these as unassailable facts because she’d been the scorekeeper. She also knows that her girlfriend is 100% bona fide stud with so much sexy on-field swagger that Waverly just wants to tear her clothes off and do any number of unspeakably filthy things, like, right now.

Waverly still has a thing for jocks, apparently.

They are driving home, and the only thing keeping her hands out of Nicole’s pants is that she’s driving, dammit, they took the Jeep for some damn stupid reason so her hands are on the steering wheel instead of all over the fucking ginger stud who is smirking at her from the passenger seat. It’s not fair.

“Swear to god, Nicole. Stop looking at me like that, or I’m gonna pull over and attack you.”

Nicole laughs. “Eyes on the road, babe.”

Waverly steals glances at Nicole anyway, sees the smoky looks that are coming back her way, searing the space between them. The next time she shifts gears, her right hand finds its way to Nicole’s thigh. Nicole twines the fingers of her left hand in with hers, probably to keep it from wandering too dangerously, and now they’re both brushing fingertips at the inseam of Nicole’s jeans, kind of. Waverly halfway wishes Nicole hadn’t changed out of her uniform; sweaty and gritty with a frontful of honest dirt from a diving catch had been a good look on her, to be honest. A stray thought crosses her brain: Nicole’s jersey. “Why do you wear number five?”

“My birthday,” says Nicole. (She’d had to dicker with one of the other deputies to get her favorite number.)

Waverly bites her lip, digs her short nails into Nicole’s leg a bit, and wishes she’d been born on the sixteenth instead. “I’m gonna make you come five times, all-star.”

Nicole, unfazed, shoots back, “I’m gonna make you come first. Fan appreciation.”

Waverly isn’t unfazed; she gives a shudder, and she’s pretty sure she’s audibly panting.

The day had been fairly warm earlier, but the weather had shifted and temps had dropped, and now cool air spills in through the cracked-open windows of the Jeep. To Waverly, it only matters in contrast to her heated skin, the breeze swirling through the vehicle’s cab letting her know how much she sizzles (and oh god, the occasional draft that finds its way to trickle up her short skirt, between her legs, making her squirm in her seat…)

But, she has to downshift. Her hand leaves Nicole’s thigh to reach for the gears, then returns to the steering wheel. Nicole’s hand moves to rest just above Waverly’s right knee, and while Waverly silently begs that it will make a slow journey up, it will not - Nicole is far too safety-aware to risk distracting the driver that way. Damn it. Nicole’s hand simply lingers there, burning her like a brand, and Waverly twitches, and feels the surge between her thighs, and wonders how much longer this fire can wait.

Nicole continues, “You’re awfully worked up, aren’t you.”

Waverly snaps out, “Hotter’n asphalt in July.”

Nicole barks laughter. “Oh, baby, that doesn’t work up here!” She grins, “You want hot asphalt, go to Texas.” She leans over the center console a bit, her voice dropping to a low, dangerous purr. “It gets hot and sticky and so soft you sink right in.”

Waverly groans and grinds her teeth.

Nicole keeps smiling, that wolfish smile. “As much fun as car sex could be, we’re, what, five minutes away. Get us home safe and in the door, and I’ll show you whatever you want about Texas heat.”

Waverly drives. A little too fast. Maybe more than a little.


The second they are inside and the front door thumps closed, she hurls herself at Nicole, growling rough in her ear, “Jesus, Nicole, now, now, I want you now,” desperate with need that will not wait a single second longer, that won’t even make it to the couch. Nicole’s eyes flash, and she instantly backs Waverly against the wall, none too gently.

“Right here? Like this?” she rasps out, breathing loud in Waverly’s ear, as Waverly’s hands and mouth try to be everywhere at once, clumsy in haste.

Waverly can only grunt out her assent, “Yeah, god, fuck me,” and Nicole doesn’t wait, she pulls up Waverly’s skirt, yanks down her panties, and is buried deep in seconds.

Waverly howls. She is pressed hard against the beadboard of Nicole’s foyer, Nicole’s body pinning her, Nicole’s face at her throat, Nicole’s hand is inside her, and she absolutely howls with joy, she means to say yes, yes, yes but it comes out more like aaaaaaah. Heaven help them if a delivery person knocks right about now and is there an Amazon package due today? and who fucking cares because she is on fire for Nicole and she needs this.

“I need it,” she gasps, ragged. “I need it.”

“You’ll get it. You’ll take it,” Nicole growls back.

She can’t say exactly why she needs to be fucked rough, or why it needs to be right now, but holy shitballs is Nicole ever providing. She’s spread her feet a little wide and bent her knees a little bit, to accommodate the height difference, but she’s got the angle now, goes hard and deep. Her fingers delve and twist, and Waverly soars, the feeling of fire more than ever, like flame, she is joyously consumed in the moment, nothing but open and demanding everything Nicole is giving her.

Nicole’s rough Ariat boots scuff against Waverly’s stylish suede ones, and Waverly can feel the denim of Nicole’s blue jeans starting to abrade the inside of her thigh a little, above the knee. She’ll be marked a bit afterward - the thought makes her clench down, moaning. They still have their outdoor coats on.

Waverly knows she won’t last long. Nicole grunts, working with fury, and Waverly hangs on, clawing at Nicole’s shoulders, wordless sounds rising from her throat as her hips jolt with every thrust. It goes quick. She comes fast and hard, two steps from the welcome mat and with a calamitous flood of wetness staining her skirt and Nicole’s jeans, her knees weakening so precipitously that she’s afraid she could go to the floor were it not for Nicole’s strength holding her up.

Then, Nicole’s face is hovering in front of hers, blinking, filled with heat and a fair amount of smugness and maybe a few questions. She merely says, her voice hoarse and gentle, “Baby? Okay to move?” Waverly nods, not trusting her own voice yet, and Nicole slings one of Waverly’s arms over her shoulder, curls an arm around her waist, and walks her to the couch as Waverly awkwardly tries to hitch up her underwear.


She ends up half-sitting, half-reclined on the couch, with Nicole wedging in behind her, cradling her close. Nicole is asking, “You okay?”

“Very okay,” replies Waverly. “Not great at being vertical right now, give me a minute.”

“Can I get you … something? Water? Whatever.”

“No, stay,” says Waverly, laying her hand against Nicole’s cheek. She recognizes the small measure of doubt that’s creeping into Nicole’s face, the tiny furrow between the brows, and aches to smooth it away. Because there’s something in Nicole that loves to give it to her rough when Waverly begs her for it, then worries about it afterward. They’ve been here before. They’re getting better at it, bit by bit. “Hey,” she says, her voice low and laden with emotion, “thank you.”

Nicole is reading her face, seems to be tuned in well to the energy that’s still running wild through Waverly’s body. Right now, Waverly feels like every endorphin on god’s green earth is vibrating through her limbs, singeing her fingertips, and she is so very, very far from wanting to snuggle and cuddle, she’s still burning. Judging by the hurry of Nicole’s breath and the hunger in her eyes, by the not-so-subtle ways her body hasn’t stilled next to Waverly’s, Nicole isn’t looking for downtime either. Waverly seizes on this. The fire between them has been so intense, so hot, that she needs to grasp and gather everything she’s just taken and give it right back; she feels like she might explode otherwise.

“God, Nicole, let me fuck you,” she groans, her need turning her voice rough and her eyes burning into caramel ones, as she brings Nicole’s hand to her mouth, sucking one finger then the next inside, licking at her own pleasure. Her eyes widen suddenly as she realizes something. “Your ring … where … did it …”

Nicole’s eyes go wide as well, and her mouth forms a perfect shocked “o”, but she can only maintain the charade for a second before she busts into laughter. “It’s in my pocket,” she says. Waverly laughs as well, and has a fleeting moment of sheer admiration for the woman so courteous she remembers to remove her rings before up-against-the-wall sex, but her focus quickly returns to what she wants, what she needs. Tugging at the waistband of Nicole’s blue jeans, she brings her up to hands and knees above her, Nicole’s hands braced on the arm of the couch behind Waverly’s head. Waverly pops the button, fumbles at the zipper for a moment, Nicole not even making her usual token protest about not needing to reciprocate.

Waverly remembers to remove her rings as well. The small clatter they make as she sets them on the endtable brings a sweet crooked smile to Nicole’s face, almost a very good, young padawan little smirk, and then she is moving her hand down, finding Nicole is astonishingly wet. Not really a surprise.

“Yeah, can you reach?” asks Nicole.

“Scoot up just a bit,” replies Waverly. “Yeah, like that.”

Nicole watches Waverly’s hand and wrist disappearing beneath her waistband before closing her eyes and lifting her chin, and gives a long, luxurious sigh. “Go,” she says, simply.

Waverly does. The heat and wet of Nicole accept her as she gratefully slides in, and it’s like dropping into a storm that’s already full-force, a maelstrom of desire. Urgency catches them both. Nicole’s hips buck and her body shakes, and Waverly plunges forward - Nicole’s need is as fiery as her own, apparently. Waverly slides out to circle Nicole’s clit with strong and curious fingers, presses back in as deep as she can, curling forward and dragging deep. It’s almost no time before Nicole is moaning out, she’s almost never voiceless on her way to her peak, but today it’s less phrases and more ah ah yeah uhhn yeah and she just takes, just takes all the flame and fire that Waverly needs to pour into her. She arches against Waverly's hand, her eyes closed to slits and her jaw dropped a little open, almost looking like she is tasting the intensity in the air between them, her face slack and feral, a little strange and utterly beautiful, entirely mesmerizing. She comes with a great shuddering groan and drops down a little, her forehead resting on Waverly’s chest. Waverly stills at last. She is finally peaceful.

“God, baby,” she murmurs, pressing her lips into Nicole’s hair, speaking into the crown of her head. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”

“Uhh-mmmm,” says Nicole, sounding a bit drugged. “Uh, shit, I still have my boots on.” So does Waverly, so they are both breaking the household leave-’em-by-the-door preference. Waverly starts to laugh, a long and contented chuckle, and Nicole brings her head up slowly, smiling as she asks, “What?”

“I told you,” says Waverly, her own smile a little smug and mischievous. “Told you that someday you would fuck me with your boots on.”

“Someday is today, I guess,” says Nicole, her eyes sparkling. She leans in to kiss Waverly deep. They begin to untangle themselves a bit, and manage to get to sitting comfortably on the couch as they recover.

Later (after Nicole had toed off her boots, helped Waverly off with hers, and picked up the jackets that had been discarded early on) Waverly sits with Nicole’s arms encircling her, reclining a bit against the redhead’s chest. Nicole kisses the side of her head, and murmurs in her ear, “So, is everything okay, baby?”

“Way past okay,” replies Waverly. “What are you asking?”

“It’s just … all the … the heated rush, I don’t know where that came from, what it meant. Is this a worry or don’t-worry thing?”

Waverly, surprised, turns to see Nicole pressing her lips together with mild concern. She says, “Jeez, Nicole, this is so a don’t-worry thing. You really don’t know where that came from?”

Nicole just shakes her head.

“It was because you were a fucking hero out there today, and I didn’t know I would get off on it quite that much, but, well … yeah.”

Waverly sees understanding, and maybe a little relief, pass across Nicole’s face, along with that shy little head dip that had endeared her to Waverly’s heart on the very first day they met. So Waverly rises from the couch and takes Nicole’s hand in hers.

“C’mon, number five,” she says with a wide grin, tugging her up, drawing her toward the stairs. “I promised you. I’ve got some more work to do.”