Debbie doesn’t know what the fuck she is doing.
It’s her over riding thought. She doesn’t know what the fuck she is doing.
And it isn’t from the stance of ‘why is she kissing Ruth like this?’ Debbie knows why the fuck she is doing that. It’s because she’s so turned on she can barely function, so turned on that, ever since Ruth kissed her, (all of maybe two minutes ago), Debbie feels like she is operating on a solid three percent of her rational brain. The rest is just her body, pulling Ruth into her and pressing her against a wall and desperately wishing for Ruth’s hands to go somewhere, anywhere real.
And the three percent of her rational brain is calmly panicking because she doesn’t know what the fuck she is doing because she has never done this before, and how the fuck is she supposed to make Ruth feel good when she has never done this before?
Ruth is grabbing at Debbie’s hips now, and pulling Debbie forward in a demand for pressure, and Debbie is between Ruth’s legs now, and thank god her body seems to know what it is doing. Ruth moans now, and Debbie chases that sound, feeling her own body’s response as she kisses Ruth.
Sex has always just been… letting the guy take his pleasure. And, if she was lucky, finding some pleasure in that. And, when Mark in particular had very lofty ideas about his standing as a generous lover, (back in the early days) sometimes her pleasure would become the focus, and, sometimes she wouldn’t have to pretend just in order to be allowed to get some sleep.
She’s never had to think too much about making sure her lover found his pleasure, because it just seemed to happen. Her tits seemed to always do the job, regardless of whether Debbie was giving things one hundred percent effort or zero percent effort.
Ruth hasn’t even touched her tits yet. Instead Ruth’s hands are at her hips, and then tracing across her collar bone, and then at the nape of her neck, running fingers up through her hair, and- god.
Debbie’s barely thinking. And maybe thinking is overrated, in the long run.
But she’s… nervous, Debbie realises. That’s the emotion. Nervous, and embarrassed, because she’s going to be clumsy, and she’s going to do the wrong thing, and-
She’s here. And this is now. In this moment, in this actual moment, Debbie is tipping her head back, to allow Ruth’s mouth to trace over her skin, and Debbie is moaning, moaning, and if she could find a way to switch off the final three percent of her brain she would in a heart beat.
“Ruth” she breathes out. “Ruth.”
Debbie doesn’t know if she is actually trying to get Ruth’s attention, or just revelling in being able to say her name.
And she’s not actually kissing Ruth now, they’re just pressed, body to body, against the wall. Debbie’s arms are braced against the plaster, and she wants to keep Ruth here, in this exact spot, because if she never lets her leave again then maybe everything will be okay.
Ruth reaches up, and in a movement that knocks on Debbie’s heart like a hammer on egg shell, cups her face in her hands.
Ruth looks at her, carefully. Debbie doesn’t want to imagine what she is finding there. She rests her forehead against Ruth’s, and the desire to just disappear into intimacy is overwhelming.
“Hey” Ruth whispers. Debbie closes her eyes briefly, swallowing hard before answering.
“Is this… what is this?” Ruth sounds out the question carefully, as though speaking in a foreign language. Debbie sighs heavily, and then half smiles, hoping to hide the weight of the question.
“Fun?” she manages, because maybe the life or death situation won’t be so obvious if she declares that this is fun, just a bit of fun.
Ruth is still watching her, and Debbie’s mouth can still feel the pressure of her kisses. “Are you drunk?”
“No. Not really. Are you?”
Ruth smiles, and then shrugs a little. “I mean, the dutch courage helped, I’m not going to lie, but it wasn’t supposed to help in… this direction. But no, I’m not drunk. I was, earlier, but now I’m not.”
Debbie nods slightly, and then she runs out of ideas, and ends up entirely still.
They’re standing in the most intimate way possible whilst still having all their clothes on, but Debbie is suddenly beset by fears.
Ruth bites her lip, caution laced through the sound of her voice.
“What are we doing?”
Suddenly, abruptly, Debbie shies away from laying it all out, because she doesn’t operate on those terms when it comes to vulnerability. Ever.
She tries to smile. Succeeds, probably.
“Just… you know. We both fucked Mark. Maybe we’re just… trying to complete the triangle.”
A half second too late, Debbie realises that she has just strongly implied that she was hoping they’d end up having sex. And, granted, the way she has pressed Ruth up against a wall might also imply that, but the verbalisation moves this into a whole new territory.
Ruth doesn’t say anything for a moment, and then runs the pad of her thumb over Debbie’s lips. Debbie can’t help her response to that; she inhales sharply and parts her lips.
The motion of Ruth’s thumb stops, and suddenly Ruth is sharply focused on Debbie’ mouth, and all Debbie can feel is that one point of contact.
She’s not breathing. She can’t breathe.
After an endless moment, Debbie can’t take it any more, and she opens her mouth wider, and lets her lips close on Ruth’s thumb. She presses down slightly with her teeth, and then closes her eyes as she lets her tongue flicker at Ruth’s skin, just once.
“Fuck” Ruth says, in a ghost of a whisper. Debbie feels it in her very soul, because she has never heard Ruth like this. Never heard Ruth sound turned on, and it’s because of Debbie, jesus, it’s because of her.
She releases Ruth’s thumb from her mouth, and kisses her again, a needy, demanding kiss, and Ruth is arching into her now, and Debbie had no idea that making out could feel this good.
She whimpers slightly, and then manages to turn it into a moan (as if that’s any better). And Debbie needs so much, she can hardly feel herself anymore, she can only feel the raging want that has to be soothed by Ruth’s skin.
“Yes” Ruth says into the kiss, and it takes Debbie a second to notice that Ruth is answering a question that Debbie barely remembers. She breaks away for a second, blinking heavily. “Yes?” she asks.
Ruth half nods, but then leans forward again, and now she is dragging the tip of her tongue over Debbie’s mouth, from her bottom lip to her top lip.
God. Debbie’s… she needs Ruth to touch her.
Ruth blinks at her, as if she can’t actually believe this is happening.
“Yes, to whatever you just said about a triangle. I… yes. I want to.”
And then they were naked.
There’s a half sensation that this isn’t actually real. That helps. That helps Debbie to not have a complete out of body experience.
It’s just… that this is Ruth. And this was never going to happen, if someone had asked Debbie six months about the possibility of this happening, if someone had asked three months ago… Debbie would have laughed at them.
They seen each other naked before, more times than Debbie can count, but that was back when their bodies were being functional, and they weren’t paying attention to each other, and-
They’re on the bed, now. Ruth is underneath Debbie, and Debbie is kissing her, kissing at her mouth, her neck, the skin just beneath her collar bone….
But her hands are trembling, and she doesn’t know what she is doing.
Ruth must sense her hesitation. “Debbie” she whispers, and Debbie almost wants to ignore her, because maybe they could just make out forever.
“Debbie… hey” Debbie kisses her again, because that’s become easy, that is now the safe thing to do.
Ruth kisses her back softly, but will not allow Debbie to deter her, and Debbie remembers that Ruth is brave, far braver than she is.
Debbie huffs out a half laugh, because there literally is no escape, and then buries her face in the space beneath Ruth’s neck, shy.
“I don’t know what I’m doing” she mumbles, feeling ridiculous.
Ruth’s hands are at the nape of her neck again, in a soothing, familiar action that Debbie is going to miss the instant they are removed. Ruth chooses her words carefully.
“Do you mean… big picture, or, um, little picture, because…”
Debbie remembers a similar conversation with Ruth, although she can’t place the time, date, or topic. She sighs restlessly, mumbling her words into Ruth’s skin, and it is insane to feel shy when they are both naked like this, but Debbie manages it anyway.
“Oh… both, to an extent. But… I’ve never done this before, and I’m…I don’t know what I’m supposed to do” she finishes, feebly.
Ruth has a smile in her voice when she says “really?”, as though the thought of Debbie not instantly knowing what to do is somehow amusing.
“Yeah. I’m…. what if…. I usually only do things if I already know I’m good at it, you know?”
Ruth laughs at that, in a way that has Debbie grinning truculently, and mumbling ‘shut up” into Ruth’s ear, before biting at her ear lobe gently.
Ruth sighs slightly, and moves underneath Debbie in a way that, if she wasn’t turned on before…. Debbie groans, and now her hands are dragging down Ruth’s sides, because despite not knowing exactly what she should be doing, she has the general gist of what Ruth wants her to be doing, and that’s going to have to be enough.
Ruth gasps, when Debbie reaches her hip bone, and splays her fingers wide, gripping at Ruth’s skin. But still she hesitates, not because she’s wondering how to back down, but because… because…
What if this ruins everything?
Ruth moves softly underneath her, and then she is spreading her legs, and Debbie is choking down a moan.
“Debbie… even if you don’t know what you are doing, I’m so turned on I don’t think it’s going to matter that much, so will you just touch me- oh god”
Oh god, Debbie thinks, because Ruth’s wetness is underneath her fingertips and Ruth is arching up into her.
And Debbie still doesn’t know what she is doing.
But Ruth seems to like it well enough.
And so she carries on, working her fingertips until Ruth is crying out, and Debbie still doesn’t know what she is doing, but she isn’t going to stop, not now, not ever.
It takes a long time for Ruth’s breathing to even out, afterwards.
Debbie lies next to her, watching her in the half light. And honestly, if she could freeze this moment… keep it forever-
She hadn’t known what she was doing, and yet it had happened. And now Debbie is… god she’s so happy it’s bordering on painful.
Ruth turns towards her, and strokes a tentative palm across Debbie’s face. Ruth blinks at her, watching her carefully.
Debbie smiles, fighting to keep her emotions slightly under control. She nods, because she is okay. More than.
Ruth nudges towards her, until she is close enough to kiss Debbie again, and she does so, with a gentle mouth.
Debbie moans slightly, because she’s filled with a different kind of want now, just as needy but less demanding. “Please” she whispers, onto Ruth’s lips.
“Can I?” Ruth asks the question Debbie has already answered, and then shifts one of her legs, pressing it gently between Debbie’s thighs. Debbie moans again, and edges herself closer, until they’re both lying on their side, and Debbie’s leg is draped over Ruth’s hip.
“Please” Debbie asks again, and Ruth nods once, before letting her hand slip lower and her fingers drag upwards and-
“Fuck” Ruth whispers, as Debbie’s eyes roll back into her head.
Ruth probably doesn’t know what the fuck she is doing either, but it doesn’t seem to matter, and Debbie is working her hips now, trying to make Ruth speed up and slow down and everything, all at once.
And then she loses her words altogether, because Ruth touches her, and touches her, and touches her-
Until that final three percent of her brain is gone, swept away in the wave of pleasure that come and goes and then comes again, as Ruth’s fingers work in impossible ways between Debbie’s legs.
It’s a relief.