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Call, and I'll Come (Home)

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Serena really doesn’t need this.

It’s been Bernie’s mantra all week - longer, probably, if she really stops and thinks about it.

Serena really doesn’t need this, but Bernie’s overworked and exhausted. The fate of the trauma unit has finally spread her too thin; she’s past caring, has cared too much, probably.

It’s why she finds herself atop Serena’s bed, naked, covers thrown hastily back.

Serena really doesn’t need this, but Bernie can’t mask the fact that she does anymore, blindly fumbles with her phone until it’s ringing, doubts she could stop herself now anyway, anymore than she could stop the tide. Or the trauma unit closure. It’s a few rings, a few ragged breaths until Serena’s voice engulfs her.

“Hello, darling!”

Bernie squeezes her eyes tighter, clinging to the phone as though she can absorb Serena’s warmth through sheer force of will. She opens her mouth, takes a deep breath, tries to pull something together, but she can’t help the strangled sob that escapes her in lieu of words.

“Bernie?” the concern lacing Serena’s tone makes Bernie feel even more wretched, but when she again opens her mouth, broken noises are the only thing forthcoming.

“Talk to me, darling,” Serena’s voice is both the anchor and the storm and finally, pressed into the mattress and pillow, Bernie’s words spill out.

“I can’t S’rena. None of it, nothing’s… working! I can’t… I can’t work anymore than I am, can’t save it, can’t sleep, I’m trying to… and I can’t… can’t-” Bernie cuts herself off with a whimper.

“Can’t what?”

Bernie frowns as she pulls her free hand out from where it’s been wedged underneath her, and winces as she uses it to push back her hair, the scent of her cunt and sweat assaulting her senses.

“Bernie?” Serena’s insistent, and Bernie’s at the end of her wick.

“I can’t come!” she snaps, then groans. “S’rena, I’m sorry, I-”

“Where are you?” Serena asks, immediately taking charge.

“In your bed,” Bernie replies, throwing herself on to her back. “I’m sorry, I’m in your bed, I-”

“Listen to me,” Serena cuts her off. “Open your laptop; call me on FaceTime. I need to see you. Do that now, darling.”

Bernie nods, holds the phone close to her ear and rolls over to pluck her laptop from the bag dumped by the side of the bed.

“Ok,” she says, “Ok, we’re up and running. I’ll hang up and ring you back.”

Serena sends a meaningful thanks to technological advances as her laptop starts tinkling almost immediately, but any other plans she’d started gathering were swiftly short-circuited. Her breath is stolen as her screen is filled with a vision in flushed, glistening nude. The screen blurs a bit as Bernie adjusts, bringing her face into full focus.

“Serena,” she breathes, her furrowed brow marginally relaxing as her blown pupils roam the screen, taking in every inch of Serena on display. Serena smiles, thumb instinctively reaching out to caress the screen, and Bernie keens as though she can feel the touch on her face.

“I need to see you,” Serena reiterates. Bernie looks imploringly at her, and Serena smiles, so reassuringly calm, that Bernie can almost feel the stress leaving her body.

“What do you want me to do?” she whispers, a shaky hand coming up to reciprocate the virtual caress. Serena takes a moment to let the vision of Bernie, so open, trusting, the blush of her cheeks dipping down into her heaving chest, wash over her, before she regains control, makes quick decisions before Bernie wrests back control of her stoic facade.

“Go into the bottom drawer on my side of the bed.”

Bernie dutifully complies, and Serena can’t hide her smirk, can’t say that she wasn’t looking forward to the reaction when Bernie opened it. Nevertheless, she keeps her voice measured at the sight of Bernie’s widened eyes. “Take out the black one. And the lube.”

“The small round button is for the ears,” Serena explains as Bernie sits back with the toy in hand. Her voice is low, gravelly like she knows Bernie loves, knows will keep Bernie listening raptly. “There’s three different speeds. The other button is for the shaft. There’s about thirteen different vibrations. I know you like deep and rumbly, so I’d press it three times to start with if I were you, but feel free to work your way through them all, if you’d prefer. Now, spread the lube over it, darling.”

Bernie moans, feeling a gush of wetness between her legs whilst she follows Serena’s command. Her right, lubed hand moves automatically to her cunt, and she hisses as the cool gel spreads over her lips, the sensation more soothing than anything after rubbing herself almost raw.

Jesus,” she hisses, and Serena’s eyes darken, her thighs clenching just from observing Bernie’s face. It’s not enough for Serena, and she calls for Bernie, repeatedly, until Bernie drags her teasing, comforting fingers away from herself and opens her eyes to once again concentrate on Serena’s face.

“Put the laptop down between your legs. So that I can see all of you.”

Bernie groans as she drags her fingers away from her cunt, shaky hands coming up to move the laptop.

“That ok?” she checks, breathless. Serena’s face practically melds with her screen, both appreciating the closeness and mourning the distance between them.

“Perfect,” she says. “Now, get to work, Major.”

Bernie wastes no time. The vibrator comes to rest between her legs, her left hand spreading her lips whilst her right manoeuvres the toy. She wipes her hand hastily on the sheet before returning to nestle the ears either side of her clit, finger poised. She tries for a tease but is too far gone; just needs the release, so it’s not long before she ramps the ears up to their highest setting, her back arching as she feels a fresh gush of wetness, and before either of them can say a word, Bernie cries out, muscles taught, hips simultaneously bucking in to and away from the incessant stimulation around her clit.

“Inside,” Serena commands, her own cheeks now as flushed as Bernie’s, her breathing almost as erratic. Bernie’s still riding the waves, moves the shaft to her entrance, her thumb fumbling with the button. It’s barely an inch inside her when it starts vibrating; she barely twitches her wrist when she comes again, another gush of wetness soaking the sheet.

Fuck!” Her hips are still bucking, she doesn’t wait for Serena to open her mouth before she’s pushing inside, her other hand helping the ears back where she needs them. She presses the button rapidly, her brain short circuiting as the sharp vibrations give way to hard, rumbling sensations deep inside her. She angles her wrist and gasps, her hips bucking erratically, groaning as the ears slip, her clit throbbing.

“Relax, darling,” Serena instructs, finally finding her voice again, almost unable to believe how keyed up Bernie actually is.

Bernie huffs a laugh, even as she tries to settle her twitching body.

“I know,” Serena soothes. “But it’ll be worth it; trust me.”

“Al-always,” Bernie stutters, her face tightening in concentration as she allows her right hand to relax, giving it another quick swipe on the sheet before resuming her grip. She takes a deep breath and relaxes her torso back into the mattress as much as she’s able; keeps the shaft inside her as long as she’s able, until her back is almost rigid off the bed, the pulsing almost painful against her g-spot. Serena’s never heard sounds like it come from Bernie, can only stare in wonder as her spare arm flails for purchase on the bed, her eyes almost impossibly widening until she freezes, the timbre of her voice dropping several octaves, landing right in Serena’s core.

Fu...uu...uck! Fuck! Fuck, fuck me, fucking christ, fuck, Serena, Jesus!”

Bernie pushes against the pressure, keeps the toy inside her as long as she can, until her wrist gives in, and she collapses back on the bed as the toy is pushed out of her, followed by a stream that causes both women to moan. Bernie loosens her grip on the toy, letting it fall to the floor. She’s still twitching, eyes closed and face blissfully serene as she tentatively rolls over, leg negotiating the laptop. Her thighs clench and separate erratically, interspersed with huffs of laughter that Serena would give a vineyard to be able to swallow in kisses.

Serena gives her time, gives her time up until the moment she sees that Bernie’s about to drop off, then clears her throat, as much for clarification that she can still speak as anything.

“Bernie…”

“S’rena…” Bernie smiles, her eyes fluttering open. She takes in her surroundings, blearily, and Serena can pinpoint the moment that Bernie comes to fully, can see the muscles tense, almost feel the shift in atmosphere as Bernie twists back around, gasping faintly as aftershocks still ride through her.

“God, Serena, I’m so-”

Serena shakes her head, smiling, reaching out to the screen again, as though she can catch Bernie’s words.

“Shush, darling. There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

Bernie adjusts herself and the laptop, can’t do much more than shift the laptop further up the bed and prop herself on an elbow, still leaning heavily against the pillows.

“I… Your bed… I… just came here to water the plants,” she finishes rather helplessly. Serena laughs, her face illuminated, and Bernie’s head sinks back into the mattress with the force of it.

“You might want to turn off the watering can, now, then!” Serena gestures vaguely in the direction of the buzzing, charmed by the blush again blooming across Bernie’s cheeks.

Bernie leans over the bed until she locates the vibrator and manages to turn it off, flopping heavily back onto the mattress but immediately crinkling her nose and lifting her bum.

“Eugh, it’s all… wet!” she exclaims, before her brain catches up, and she hides her face behind her palm, scrubbing at her hairline with her fingertips, the red blush darkening across her chest. Serena belly laughs, then, she can’t help it, despite the arousal still thrumming through her.

“Roll over to the other side, darling. Just… relax,” she lowers her voice again, takes a deep breath and acts as though she isn’t inside a screen, miles away, talks as though she’s right there, basking in Bernie’s afterglow.

“Lay down, look at me…” she waits until Bernie’s eyes meet hers; still now, with the wariness she’s become accustomed to seeping back in. She wants to shut it down, before Bernie shuts this down, shuts herself in embarrassment and shame.

“You’re so beautiful,” she soothes, caressing the screen again. “You’re beautiful, and I love you, and I want you to close your eyes; close your eyes and just listen. Please…”

Bernie acquiesces, nestling her feet under the duvet, too tired to reach and pull it up further.

“‘m just going to roll over, though,” Bernie murmurs, as though Serena isn’t the one to suggest it, as though Serena isn’t telling her to stop worrying, to leave the sheets until tomorrow, to just lay on the other side of the bed and I love you, and thank you, and I’m sorry, and goodnight.

Serena watches Bernie as her breathing finally evens out. Watches as her face relaxes, wishes she was there to smooth out the one worry line that remains between her eyebrows, one that Serena knows wouldn’t be there if she were. Serena watches for longer than she knows it takes for Bernie to be sleeping soundly, drinking her fill. Thinks about everything and nothing, gathers the tendrils of a plan, then gently clicks the camera shut. Her arousal abated for now, she sets to work.