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High Tide Came and Brought You In

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They’re sharing a fancy hotel suite their last day in Indiana. The cream colored walls swirl around Lightning as she lies in one of the sprawling king-sized bed, Doc beside her, taking up as little space as possible like she always does, long and narrow like an italicized question mark as she holds her hotel glass full of wine against her crinkled lips.

Lightning watches her, like she always does. The way the crepe-paper laugh lines at the corner of her eyes bunch as she blinks, the way her strong arms are crossed over her chest. Lightning throws the rest of her wine back, and opens up another tiny, cooler sized bottle of it from the mini-bar. Some nights, she tries not to look at Doc too much, tries not to tear her apart with the deep, longing scrutiny of her gaze. Other nights, like tonight, she can’t help it. The hunger gets worse after she strikes out with the sort of girl she actually scores with, and boy did she fucking strike out recently. So, instead of just loving Doc idly and from a distance, she destroys herself with self pity, wonders what the fuck is wrong with her, if she’s destined to die alone or something, surrounded by young blonde starfucking models just like her, while she wathes her crew chief from the shadows, her name tattooed on her heart.

“What’re you staring at?” Doc grumbles, ice-blue gaze cutting over to her her. The color should be cold but it never is. Iit sparkles, like the glittering surf, like a cloud scattered summer-sky.

“Nothing,” Lightning lies, frowning,, rubbing at the lipstick mark she left on her own glass. “Just thinking, I guess.” And then, because she’s half-drunk and the color of Doc’s eyes makes her feel reckless and self destructive sometimes, she adds, “Can I ask you a weird embarrassing sex question?”

Doc scoffs. “Yeah, you can ask. Can’t guarantee I’ll answer, though.”

Lightning swigs her wine heavily, tongue sticking to the roof of her mouth before she spits out, “Have you like. Ever made a girl squirt?”

Doc coughs, shakes her head, swirls her wine around in her glass. “Shit. Sure, more than a few times.”

A reflexive surge of jealousy rises in Lightning’s chest, but she chases it down with curiosity, rolling over in her plush hotel robe so she can face Doc, give her her full attention. “You have?! How the fuck was it?”

Doc shrugs, grinning a muted, catlike grin, eyes sly as they glance over at Lightning, ever so briefly. “Honestly? The first time it scared the shit out of me. It just happened so fast…suddenly the bed was soaked, I was soaked. I remember my eyes stinging from it, they must have been open.”

Lightning gasps, tightening one of her hands in the sheets of her bed, twisting. “That’s hot,” she mumbles, hoping it’s vague enough Doc doesn't think she’s saying she’s hot. That would probably just make her laugh at Lightning, and that sort of decided flippancy regarding the idea of the two of them together always hurts a little. Or a lot. Every time Lightning so much as hints at it, Doc acts like she’s ridiculous, like she’s making a joke.

“It was, once I figured out what happened. At first I thought she’d pissed herself,”Doc explains, expression getting soft, wistful.

Lightning wrinkles her nose. “Did it gross you out? When you thought that?”

“No,” Doc says eventually, licking her lower lip carefully. “A woman coming so hard she loses control of her body is always a beautiful thing, to me. Just, when I realized I’d made her come that way it was a different sort of pride, I guess. Changed things.” Her eyes drift shut and she thumbs up the side of her cup, which is nearly empty. Lightning leans over and sloshes the rest of the miniature bottle into her glass, needing to keep her like this, keep her talking.

“So, how did you do it? How do you make it happen?”

Doc’s eyes snap open, too-blue and crystalline. “What, that skinny girl whose room you stayed in the other night…did she make you squirt? She didn’t seem the type.”

Lightning frowns, stomach lurching. “It’s more embarrassing than that, actually,” she admits.

Doc grins. She loves when Lightning’s embarrassed. “Ok, spit it out, kid. What happened.”

Lightning sighs dramatically, flopping back down onto her back so she can fix her gaze onto the ceiling,which is decidedly less difficult to look at than Doc’s sharp, handsome profile. “So, when I started fingering her she was like, hey I can squirt, we should get a towel all sexy and stuff, so of course I was like. Fuck yeah, sounds hot, and got the towel, laid it out on the bed. But then for like hours I was trying to get her to do it and she def got off other ways but! I couldn't make her squirt because I have no fucking idea how and I feel like an idiot.”

Doc tilts her head up to expose the ripple of her throat and fucking laughs at her. Lightning would be offended, and she is, but she’s also weirdly delighted every time she makes Doc laugh, even if its at her own expense. “Damn, kid. Well. That’s alright. Not all girls who can do it do it every time. Plus, it takes finesse, not speed, kid. You’ll get it.”

“Uh, I have finesse. Just not the specific skills to do this specific thing I’ve never done before. But god she just like, put me on the spot and it sucked and I felt like a failure,” she groans before taking another swig of wine. It burns on the way down, and she shuts her eyes against the ensuing dizziness.

“You’re not a failure, quit that. It’s just a certain sort of motion, certain position. It’s not your fault you didn’t know how to do it. She came, right? She wasn’t complaining?”

Lightning frowns. “She didn’t complain but she’s also ghosting me now. Hasn’t texted me back since then so she’s as good as gone.”

Doc shakes her head, smiling smugly as she turns back to her drink, crosses her ankles. “That’s what you get for being a cocky little bitch pretending you knew how to do it instead of just asking her how when she told you she could. She probably isn’t into you because the sex was bad, but because of your full of yourself attitude.”

Lightning’s stomach is tied into a series of tight, ever bunching knots that grind together as she squirms on the sheets, cheeks hot. She’s watching Doc again, studying her, something feral unfurling in her chest like a vine wild. “Can you teach me?” she asks before she can talk herself out of it.

Doc chokes on her wine, eyes wide for a second before she shuts them tight and sputters. “What!? No.”

But Lightning has the idea in her head now, and it’s not gonna go away anytime soon, so she pushes. “C’mon! You know how to do it and I really want to learn! You’re a good teacher Doc, you teach me everything anyway, how is this any different?” she begs, sitting up and clumsily getting on her knees so she can plead properly. “Look, here,” she says, grabbing the pillow she had her head propped up on and thumping it down between them. “This is a girl. Show me what I need to do to her to make her squirt.”

Doc turns her head to look her in the eye with a fierce, icy skepticism. “That pillow is not a girl,” she mumbles before turning back to her wine.

“Please?” Lightning asks again, cocking her head, pushing her lower lip out. “How else am I gonna learn, youtube? Who the hell else is gonna teach me?”

And that seems to work, because Doc sighs dramatically and gets up off the bed, jaw set right and flickering before she grinds out, “fine! Ok.”

“Where are you going? The pillow-girl is here,” Lightning asks, smoothing her hand over it anxiously, eyes tracking Doc as she rubs the back of her skull and paces the room, looking defeated.

“Minibar,” she explains, bending down and throwing it open. “M’gonna need hard liquor if we do this. What do you want to split?”

Five minutes later, Doc has the pillow half on her lap, right arm bent gently, ring and pinky finger curled back towards the life-line of her palm, index and middle held out loosely, like the laziest fake-gun. Lighting is staring, and her stomach is dropping, and she’s glad she’s wearing a huge fucking robe so she can press her thighs together discreetly. “You start with you hand like this, just like any other time. But you're not gonna go as deep as you’ll want to,” Doc explains, rolling her sleeve up a little higher towards her elbow.

Doc has beautiful hands, and Lightning always gets all sweaty when she looks ar them, scalp prickling, mouth dry. But this is ten times worse than usual, because this time it’s not just Doc doing some doctor thing or mechanical thing or driving thing and Lightning imagining how the strength and androgyny and grace and confidence of her hands would generalize to sex, she’s straight up doing a sex thing. It’s too much, Lightning is gonna fucking faint. “Ok, fuck, you’re righ,t I do want some of that,” she asks, gesturing towards the uncapped mini-bar bottle of Jack Daniels on Doc’s bedside table.

Doc hands it over with her just as troubling free-hand. As Lightning throws a burning mouthful back she shudders, stomach roiling, and it doesn’t even help because now she just fees even hotter all over. “Ok,” she mumbles, hands braced on either side of her bent knees. “M’ready.”

“So, the spot you’re looking for is on the upper wall, a few centimeters in. You’re gonna crook your fingers like this , towards you, against that spot,” she explains, making a come hither motion with her index and middle fingers that makes Lightning just about collapse.

“Do you like. What’s the pressure? Do you push hard, is it sustained, it is like…rubbing…” she manages to ask, wondering how in the fuck her voice sounds even when she literally feels like she's coming apart at the seams, unravelling all over this bed like a frayed sweater. She's wet, stupidly wet, just from watching Doc pretend to finger a pillow. It’s mortifying.

“Hm. Every girl’s different, just like anything, you know. I guess it takes a little time to figure her out, what’s gonna work,” she explains, looking down at her hand thoughtfully. “Once you find that spot, though, you can play around.”

Lightning hazily eyes her own hands, her slender fingers and tapered, delicate looking nail beds. She can make a girl come with her fingers, absolutely, but she’s always preferred to use her mouth. She likes being able to see things up close, the sensory experience, the taste, the smell, the deafening crush of a woman’s thighs around her ears, the way they buck and surge and gush over her tongue. There’s so many finer points required to getting a girl off with her hands, and adding one more element to it all feels daunting. Or maybe that’s just the booze talking. Or the horrible, stupid, unrequited love making everything in her life feel hopeless and insurmountable. “I dunno, I feel like I just wouldn’t be good at this.”

“It’s not hard,” Doc says, shrugging, swigging from the little bottle of jack again without so much as flinching.

God damn, Lightning wants Doc to fuck her so bad. So bad it’s clouding her judgement, chasing away her fear, a hunger so sick and powerful all she can do is feel it pulse between her legs, imagine all the ways to soothe the maddening ache.

Then, a light goes off in her arousal drunk brain. “You’re gonna hate this idea,” she says, picking at a hangnail, refusing to meet Doc’s eyes. “But you know how sometimes in the car, you have me sit shot-gun while you race since it’s easier to show me than to explain? And I get to feel what it’s like to be a passenger, so I can replicate that feeling? Maybe—”

Doc sees exactly where she’s going for this, and braces her hands on her bent thighs, shaking her head in incredulity. “Kid. This isn’t driving.”

“I’m just saying—”

Doc’s eyes darken, her head cocks. “Can you—have you squirted before?”

Lightning’s mouth goes dry, and she shakes her head with a tentative no. “I’d like to but I don’t know how. Dunno if I can.”

Doc purses her lips flat and takes other measured sip of liquor, mouth pressed tight to the narrow neck of the bottle. “You know I’m not good at backing down from a challenge. And you know it’s easier for me to do something than it is to try and find words for it,” she says after she swallows.

A hungry, desperate bubble of hope rises in Lightning’s chest, and she leans forward eagerly, so fucking wet she’s worried it’s soaked through her underwear, that it’s something Doc can smell, can sense.

“Yeah, I know,” she breathes, untying her robe with determined hands before she lays back on the bed, breath coming out in shallow huffs. “I might be playing to your weaknesses a little. But I—I really want to know how to do it.”

“Ok,” Doc says, sighing deeply. “Let me get this straight to make sure m’not getting ahead of myself. You want me to touch you?” she asks point blank, every single word cutting like a hot blade through Lightning’s lower stomach, making her throb. “For instructional purposes?”

“Yes,” Lightning admits, trying to sound nonchalant.

“You’re sure?” Doc asks, breath rattling in and out in a hesitant tremble.

“Yeah, I mean. It’s us. If it’s really fucking weird we can just stop.”

“Fuck,” Doc sighs, finishing off the bottle and setting it back down with a clink. “Whatever. Fine.”

Lightning can hardly fucking breathe. Her blood is pounding in her ears, she’s nothing but sweat and nerves and disbelief, but she’s not gonna question it, she’s not gonna push back now that she’s gotten Doc to cave to what she wants. So, she just finishes untying her robe, pulls it open, and hooks her thumbs into her silky PJ shorts and embarrassingly wet underwear. There’s no room to be sexy or coy about taking them off so she just slides them down her thighs and kicks them off in a wadded up mess, one hand over the tight junction between her thighs, which she has pressed together. If she lets them fall apart, Doc will see. See what she does to her, how wet she is, how swollen and puffy and wrecked she’s gotten just from talking about this, from watching the gentle, knowing crook of her fingers.

“Well, you gonna let me get in there or not?” Doc asks,watching her warily.

“Jesus, no foreplay?” Lightning jokes, twisting at the waist and letting her knees fall to one side. “I thought you were good at this stuff.”

“This isn't real sex, kid. It’s a lesson, it’s practice. Just like racing,” she explains, folding her arms over her chest stubbornly. “M’not gonna fucking kiss you.”

And Lightnings heart clenches up at that, the familiar surge of pain she feels about a hundred times a day because she’s in love with a woman who thinks she’s just some ridiculous little girl, a fucking rookie. “Ok, fine,” she sighs, parting her thighs cautiously, shutting her eyes so she doesn’t have to see Doc seeing her for the first time. “Just trying to make it exciting for you, I know you haven’t had a date since nineteen eighty one or whatever.”

Doc reaches out, squeezes her calf punishingly. “This was your idea,” she reminds her.

Lightning cracks an eye open, watches Doc studying her carefully, licking her lips, eyes dark and unreadable. “Do you at least think—I dunno. Am I pretty to you?” she asks, hating how high her voice has become in this moment.

Doc’s expression softens a little, troubles her mouth at the corners. “Kid, listen. I don't think there’s a woman in the world like us who wouldn’t find you pretty.”

That's not what Lightning asked her, that’s not what Lightning wants to know. She’s fully aware she’s objectively pretty, or whatever. That doesn’t mean Doc specifically finds her attractive. That Doc is seeing her now, spread out and split and glistening, her secrets wet and shiny on her thighs. “Thank you,” she says anyway, blowing a kiss, hating how good she is at pretending like nothing else hurts her

“So. You ready?” Doc asks, cheeks flushed from alcohol, hands trembling as she gently, gently lays just her fingertips on Lightning’s splayed thighs.

Lightning nods, breath held, heart pounding. She can feel her insides clench in anticipation. “Yeah, I mean. As ready as you can be for a hands on squirting demo.”

It’s an invitation to laugh but Doc doesn't take it, She shakes her head, smooths her warm, weathered palms gently up and down the planes of Lightnings quads. “My hands are shaking, m’sorry. They don’t usually,”she mumbles.

Lightning squirms, perspiration beading suddenly at the backs of her knees. Doc’s hands are so good, touching her with intent, even if it’s just to steady herself. She wonders if her skin feels soft to her, if this is how she touches her patients, or her lovers. The thought that Doc is not sure where this particular interaction lies on the spectrum makes her stomach drop. “Why now?” she asks, voice low, cautious.

Doc shrugs, makes a face at her. “I dunno, maybe because this is fucking weird. And because—well. You’re you.”

A crack runs through Lighting’s heart and she fights her own mouth to keep it from openly pouting.. She thought maybe once Doc touched her it would unlock something like hidden away in her heart, that she’d stop seeing her as her mentee and younger, stupider friend with a lot of potential and maybe like, fall in love with her. Realize she was in love with her this whole time. That this is what she’s wanted, even if she didn’t realize it. It’s a stupid and self destructive wish, but Lightning is good at making those.

“M’sorry. I get it. My body is going haywire, too. I’m—uh. I’m really wet, actually,” Lightning admits,” writhing subtly on the sheets in an ugly combination of arousal, of shame.

Doc smiles, smoothing her hands up Lightning’s inner thighs as if to steady herself. “I have that effect on women, I’ve been told.” She jokes, thumbing a little closer to Lightning’s core, brushing over the crease of her thigh. “You ready?” she asks again, but this time she actually touches. Swipes her thumb right through her, sweet and soft over Lightning’s slick folds. “Oh,” she says, like she’s surprised at how messy she is, like she didn’t actually believe her until she felt.

Lightning whimpers as the touch stops just shy of her clit. She realizes they didn't talk about this, didn’t talk about what this might entail, what was off limits or not. Doc might just clinically find her G-spot like the physician, talk their way through it, and never even bother with her clit, with the rest of her body. Lightning has no fucking idea what this is gonna look like, just that the way Doc touches her makes her shiver, makes her gasp. She swallows the sounds, not wanting to seem to embarrassing and slutty and transparent.

Doc is just feeling her out, touch gentle, face unreadable. She’s very quiet, moving one hand up to Lightning’s flat, heaving stomach to anchor them both. “This ok?” she asks, as she eases one finger inside her, the width of it feeling so thick and maddening Lightning can feel herself flutter around the intrusion, suck it into her body. “You tell me to stop if-”

“Yeah, it’s fine. It’s actually really good, what the fuck,” she whines, throwing her head back. “Sorry m’so—”

“Don’t be,” Doc breathes, adding another finger, pumping the two of them in and out with a slow, tender drag. “Makes this easier. Thought maybe we were gonna need to use lube or something.”

Lightning laughs breathlessly at the thought of Doc not making her drip, not turning her inside out. “I guess m’easy”

“I guess I’m good,” Doc tells her, crooking her finger deliberately up inside her, and fuck, oh fucking god, there is it. Lightning yelps, shudders. “Ok, um. That was different.”

“That’s what you’re looking for,” Doc says quietly, gaze climbing all over Lightning’s splayed body, the rapid rise and fall of her chest, the sweat collecting on her throat, just over the pulse. She’s probably tracking physiological changes, checking in to see if Lightning still feels good, but damn, Lightning feels like she’s really looking and it’s so good, so raw. She preens under the attention, sticks her tits out, spreads her legs wider. “Feel different?” Doc asks.

“Yeah it’s sort of like…um, pressure,” Lightning gasps, rocking into the insistent shift of Doc’s fingers. “Or like I have to pee?”

“That’s good. That’s it,” Doc tells her, swirling up into it before pushing past it, altering the angle. “It’s sensitive, so don't just find it and pound it to death, ok. It’s just like anywhere else down here, be delicate, tease her. Keep her wanting more,” she explains, demonstrating by Lightning on the edge for the whole of it.

“I know—I know how to fuck a girl,” Lightning mumbles, but her voice comes out reedy, weak.

Doc crooks her knuckles brushes back over that nervy spot inside her and she yelps at how sharp and sensational it is. “Oh, fine then. I’ll just shut up,” she says, rubbing insistently into it while Lightning comes apart around her. “Since you can figure out the rest on your own, apparently.”

“No, don’t stop,” Lightning breathes, arching her back. She feels crazy, like a pool slowly filling up with seawater during high-tide. There's definitely, definitely something building inside her, and she’d feel out of control, scared even if Doc wasn’t the one who was doing it to her.. But it is Doc so she can just shiver and groan and dissolve, let bits of herself float away in shuddering fragments

“That’s what I thought,” Doc grumbles, somewhat smugly. Then, because she’s apparently a fucking artist when it comes to this shit, she finally touches Lightning’s clit. Just pushes up inside her at the same time she reached between her legs with her other hand, spreading her wide and thumbing over the swollen nub of it, slow and sweet and deliberate.

“Oh fuck,” Lightning swears, spine snapping as she rides Doc’s fingers, humping reflexively.

Doc hikes her closer, fucks her deep and serious and rhythmic now, rubbing her clit in time with it. “How does it feel?” she asks, voice nothing but a low, tattered rasp. Lighting is blissed out of her senses, but she’s conscious enough to notice that this is affecting Doc too, that she isn't just sitting there numb and clinical while Lightning falls apart. She’s panting, too, she’s shaking again. Maybe Lightning would ask about it if she wasn't such a goddamned mess.

“Feels fucking—I dunno, it’s crazy. It’s good. S’really really good but weird. Different,” she huffs out ineloquently, wishing she had language to more accurately describe the distinct feeling, the heat and the rushing madness of it, the way she feels like she has more nerves than she’s ever had before, somehow, the way she feels like she’s filling up and about to spill over. “I like-- don’t want to give myself up to it,” she realizes as she rocks her hips, meeting Doc half-way instead of letting herself just be fucked. “Or I want to but I can’t.”

Yeah, I can tell. You’re one of those girls. Don’t like to give over control,” Doc says, voice scraping over Lightning like sun-warmed gravel, making her shiver and moan. “What do you do when you get a girl like that? How do you break her down?”

“Uh,” Lightning whimpers, stomach dropping as Doc rubs tender, sweet circles over her clit, a snick snick sound audible between their gales of breath she’s so fucking wet. “I—I eat them out, usually. Make them come and then—ah—make them come again.”

“That work every time?” Doc asks skeptically instead of taking her suggestion, which is disappointing. Lightning’s eyes keep snagging on the shape of Doc’s mouth when she looks at her, the way it’s open and panting and licked, the way she presses her lips together and almost smiles every time she elicits some embarrassing noise out of Lightning’s wrecked raw throat. “You ever pretend to quit, and watch them come crawling back to you? Or, keep them on the edge, just barely touching like you don't care, until they beg?”

“Don’t you dare,” Lightning wheezes as Doc pauses, forcing her to writhe down and impale herself, seeking that impossible, perfect pressure. She can’t handly Doc talking dirty like this, she’s gonna explode, she’s gonna cry. “I want to let go, I want to. It’s just. It’s hard.”

“Hm, flip over,” Doc orders then, withdrawing her wet fingers so abruptly Lightning actually keens, legs flailing. “Get on your stomach, knees bent. You can tell a girl is close to squirting because of—I dunno, the way she smells, the way she feels. She gets wet and loose you can feel her heartbeat, right here,” she explains, pushing two fingers back in easily and pressing directly into that unbearable, delicious spot. “So if you can tell they’re almost there but it’s not working, change the position. I’ve had the most luck like this.”

And then, because Lightning is clearly not moving fast enough or graceful enough, Doc manhandles her onto her stomach, forearms pressed to the sheets, ass in the air. Lightning's shirt pools around her bent head and her tits are hanging down, shining in sweat, and it would be humiliating to be in the position if Doc wasn't touching her, putting her exactly where she wants her with such certainty and confidence it just melts anything but her desperate hunger away. “Ok,” she pants, spreading her knees, arching her back, showing Doc fucking everything, begging with her body. She doesn't care how pathetic she looks, how obvious it’s become that this is more than just some dumb instructional thing for her. She wants Doc to fuck her, she's wanted it for so long and so badly she’s past giving a single shit about the circumstances, the context. She should ask a question to keep up the guise of this being a lesson, she should comment on the technique, or what to look for, or the angle. Instead, she just presses her burning cheek into the bed and says “Please.”

Please Daddy, fuck me, make me come all over myself is what she thinks, but she manages to bite that back enough to murmur, “show me how to do it.”

Doc curses anyway, withdraws her fingers and pulls her back by the thighs, rubbing up them hungrily. It’s a real touch, not a teacher’s touch, not a doctor’s touch, not even the scared, uncertain between-the-two touch from earlier when she was trying to figure out how to fuck Lightning without actually fucking her. This time, her thumbd dig in, her palms are hot and greedy and her voice is shot to awed bits when she murmurs, “Jesus fucking christ, kid, you’re dripping down your thigh. And I haven’t even made you come yet.”

Lightning reaches down, rubs the glistening trail of fluid up her own thigh with trembling fingers, vision whiting out she’s so overwhelmed.. “Show me,” she whimpers. Then the whimper turns into a sigh as Doc shakes her head and pushes her fingers inside, pressing the index and middle directly down.

“Once you get your girl like this, you can really zero in on it,” she says breathlessly, fucking into the spot repeatedly, pistoing in and out at the same timeher fingers are crooking, bending. Lightning’s eyes are screwed shut and she’s drooling onto the sheets but she can imagine how beautifully Doc’s forearm is flexing right now, the cords right, loose skin crinkling and shifting. She spreads her knees wider and bears down, lets the strange, glorious sensation cascade over her, building and building like pressure behind a cracked dam.

“I can feel it,” she warns, arching her back. “M’close. Can feel it.”

“That’s it, baby,” Doc murmurs then and jesus fuck, how in the hell is Lightning gonna survive this, how is she gonna live on from this moment on knowing Doc once called her baby, tucked inside her past the second knuckle like she belongs there. “Let it go.”

It comes suddenly, like a storm.

Lightning thinks she’s pissing, at first. After at all, the burst of hot liquid comes from that hole, punched out of her on a downward thrust as she sobs, mouth open and drooling against white cotton. “Fuck, there you go, so gorgeous,” Doc breathes then, voice so moved it’s like she forgot this was supposed to be a lesson. It’s then that Lightning realizes it doesn’t actually matter if she’s pissing or not, Doc doesn’t care, Doc wants her to lose control, she wants her to come apart, so she does. She rocks back hard into the relentless pounding and then, like a floodgate suddenly ruptures, she’s gushing everywhere. Onto the sheets, her own stomach, Doc’s forearm. And it feels like fucking heaven. Not the liquid itself, necessarily, but the climax, the way her cunt it clutching and pulsing around Doc’s still fucking fingers, the desperate spasming of her stomach, the heat washing over her in shivery, ruined waves. She’s coming, even if it’s not how she's ever felt before when she comes. It’s still definitely an orgasm. Her throat is ripped wide over a helpless, hoarse scream and she collapses onto the soaked sheets but still. Doc is fingering her open, rubbing her until she can feel her piss hole flexing, but nothing is coming out.

“Oh my god,” she sobs, rubbing her tear-sticky face into her arm, too lost to even find the actual sheets. “Oh my fucking god.”

“Lightning,” Doc murmurs, finally pulling her fingers out messily. Then she’s touching her all over, broad searching palms across her back, her ass, her quaking thighs, like she’s seeing her for the first time, like she’s checking for blood. She hooks her elbow under one leg and flips her over easily, laying her out on her back, spreading her legs before pushing one finger right up inside her again. Lightning hisses, throwing her head back. She can’t process any of this, she can’t stop shaking. All she knows is that she wants Doc to keep touching her like this, looking t her like this. Preferably forever. “You made such a mess for me,” Doc breathes, leaning over her, rubbing a palm up through the slick on her stomach, making her skin shine. “Made a puddle all over the bed.”

“Wasn’t that—that was the point, wasn’t it?” Lightning manages to wheeze, pushing herself up into Doc’s hands, gaze falling over her still-buttoned flannel. “Fuck, s’all over your shirt.”

“It’s all over everything. All over you. It smells so fucking good, you—God, look at you,” Doc breathes, gently fucking in and out of her, pushing deep, past where she’s raw and swollen and wrecked. Then, like she can’t fucking control herself, she dips down and presses her open mouth to the bare skin of Lightning’s ribcage. Her mouth is hot, slick, perfect, and Lightning’s eyes well up in overwhelm at the swirl of her tongue. She’s licking her come up, she’s moaning deep and muffled into her and Lightning has no fucking idea what’s happening or what Doc is thinkins but she doesn’t care. She wants this, she needs it. So, she uncements one hand fro the sheets to card her fingers through the back Doc’s close-cropped hair, urging her on, keeping her close.

Doc’s mouth gets sloppier as she's touched, the licks turning into wet, hungry kisses down Lightning’s stomach now that she has permission. “Can I?” she asks, pulling her fingers out and spreading Lightning’s folds instead, exposing her clit.

Lightning’s not even sure what she’s asking, everything hazy and light-dappled and soaked through. It doesn’t matter though, and answer is always yes where Doc is concerned so she chokes it out. “Yeah, Please.”

In seconds, Doc has arranged herself between Lightning’s spread legs and fixed her mouth right over her cunt, licking over her clit hungrily, groaning into the dripping mess of her.

It’s so fucking good Lightning wants to cry, so she does. Her eyes squeeze shut and stars erupt behind them, tears leaking out of the corners and down her hot, flushed cheeks as she rubs the back of Doc’s head, digs her nails in.. Doc sucks her clit, grips her thighs firm and sweet and holds her in place even as she bucks involuntarily, the sweet nervy pulses of it so overwhelming her body is moving beyond her will.

There are so many things she should be insecure about right now. She hasn’t shaved since the disastrous hook up that landed her here, so her red-gold pubes are at a stubbly awkward length. She showered today but that was hours ago, and on top of that she’s covered in her own come, which smells saltier and more sharp and acrid that she’s used to. Plus, she’s still not entirely sure it wasn’t just piss.

Still, absolutely none of that seems to matter right now. Doc is touching her like she loves her, grip bruising, mouth hungry, eyes shut tight and lids flickering as she sucks and licks and kisses. Lightning’s so sensitive from coming however magical way she's already come that it doesn't take long for her to get close, thighs falling open and spasming, moans turning into high pitched, rhythmic mewls. Doc senses it coming and moans, pulling back to murmur, “Come again for me, babygirl,” so low and hot and filthy Lightning comes the second she flicks her tongue back over her clit.

Doc sucks her through it, holds her down and rubs the raw, searing mess of her mouth over whatever she can reach until Lightning comes down, shuddering into a limp mess of limbs on the soaked-through sheets.

Lightning just lies there for a moment and tries to catch her breath, chest rising and falling, skin somehow both overheated from coming and chilled from lying in a cooling puddle all at the sam time. Doc disentangles herself from between her legs and for one terrifying moment Lightning thinks she’s gonna get up and leave her here, but instead she bears down on her, slides a broad hand under the back of her head, and kisses her full on the mouth.

Doc tastes like come and iron and musk and salt and Lightning can’t get enough, doesn’t care that she can’t breathe, that everything is giving way to static and trembles and black. When Doc pulls away, they’re both gasping. The hotel room is still swirling, Lightning is still all wet, and there are still tears rolling down her face and pooling in awkward places but she doesn’t care. Because the world has changed. Everything has changed. “I thought you weren’t gonna to kiss me,” She murmurs, licking the sweetness of triumph off her own lips.

Doc smiles, shrugs, thumbs over the freckle on Lightning’s cheek-bone like she’s always wanted to. “I changed my mind.”

Then she kisses her again, and Lighting licks her lips open, presses herself into the wet flannel of her shirt, shivers and sobs and forgets why he ever thought she could live without having Doc like this.

They make out until she’s too shaky and wet to not be distracted by it, and then, Doc helps her move out of the puddle, hands all over her shoulders, fixing her hair, making fists in her shirt until Lightning pulls away enough to peel it off. She fits herself back into Doc’s arms, loving the way her gaze is burning into the soft curve of her tits, her dawn-tight nipples. “You’re the most beautiful girl I've ever seen,” Doc murmurs, kissing her jaw, her pulse, the corner of her eye where she must taste like the sea. “When you asked me before—God. I didn't know what to say. There's no way to tell someone they make you sick to look at they’re so perfect. I couldn’t just tell you you’re pretty—you’re so much more than that to me,” she admits quietly, and Lightning's het leaps, clenches, breaks.

“Confession: I did really want to learn how to make a girl squirt but this—most of this was an elaborate seduction attempt,” she admits. “M’always trying to find ways to get you to touch me.”

Doc kisses her hard, reaches around and cups her ass, hefts her closer with fistfuls of flesh and god, it’s as fucking good as Lightning imagined all the times she imagined being Doc’s girl. It’s even better. To cede control, and let another woman just—move her--she’s not sure why she was so afraid of it for so long, why she felt like she always had to be the one in control, the one who knew more about making girls feel good.

When they part in a gasping slick Doc smooths a hand up her side, brings it up between them. “Still shaking,” she whispers, eyes the blue of glittering surf, of a cloud scattered summer sky. “Because you’re you.”

And you love me Lightning thinks, not trusting her voice won't crack. instead she just takes Doc’s trembling hand in her own, folding every finger but the still moisture crinkled index and middle finger towards her palm. Then she sucks those fingers into her mouth, eyes half-lidded, teeth scraping gently over the top-bend of Doc’s knuckles. She pulls of in a messy froth, loving the way Doc’s eyes are blown wide, the way she’s taken a bit of control back from her, even if it’s only an infinitesimal fraction, and just for fun, just for now. “Can we move to your bed?” she asks, kissing Doc’s love-line. “This one’s all wet.”

And the room is still swirling, her head is still spinning, her heart it still pounding so hard she feels like her chest might crack along a faultline, but she doesn’t care. Because the world has changed. Everything has changed.