Waverly let herself be pulled through the door by the front of her shirt— plaid flannel with a fringe of lace, still slightly dusty from the arena.
She didn’t do this kind of thing every day— go home with someone she just met— but today, she was feeling adventurous. Plus, she’d been in something of a dry spell lately and it was starting to drive her crazy. And more importantly, it wasn’t every day she met someone this captivating.
“You know, I’ve never been with a rodeo clown before,” she taunted her host, knowing it would get a reaction.
“Rodeo protection athlete,” Nicole— the rodeo clown/protection athlete in question— grumbled back, a playfully scolding look in her eye. The redheaded bullfighter had been watching Waverly’s barrel racing practice session, and somehow one thing had led to another, and here they were. Nicole’s hands still held Waverly’s shirt captive, but she seemed to be waiting for some final signal. “So, did you want a drink first, or some coffee, or—”
Waverly answered by cutting her off, half-tackling her in a kiss… which would have worked except that she had forgotten about her cowboy hat, whose brim rammed directly into Nicole’s eyes, making her jerk back with a startled shout.
“Oh balls, I’m so sorry,” Waverly said, as Nicole stumbled back a half-step and rubbed blindly at her watering eyes. The jolting motion of Nicole’s hands had had the unexpected (but not unwelcome) side effect of half-unbuttoning Waverly’s shirt, a snap-button flannel that now hung half open— not that Nicole was in any position to enjoy it.
“It’s okay. I’m fine. I just need a second.” Nicole blinked several times, until the discomfort seemed to fade and the tears receded. “Okay. I’m okay.”
“So… Maybe without the hat?” Waverly guessed, scrunching her face apologetically.
“No, leave the hat. Just…” Nicole reached out and lightly grasped the brim, sliding it all the way up out of the way. She adjusted her own similarly. “Okay, take two.”
With that obstacle removed, Waverly tried again, just a touch more carefully this time. She slid her hands up Nicole’s long, lithe body until they could hook behind her neck, holding her in place for a kiss. What started as an almost tentative peck escalated in seconds, like a match thrown into a puddle of gasoline. Nicole’s mouth went from soft to scorching, a hungry energy that made Waverly shiver eagerly in her boots.
Well, they do say that redheads do it better…
One more tug of Nicole’s talented hands pulled free the rest of the buttons, leaving her shirt hanging open, the cool air of the room raising goosebumps on her skin.
“God, you’re a vision,” Nicole nearly purred as they pulled apart for a breath, her eyes taking in the newly revealed skin. It was unexpectedly sweet, and Waverly felt herself pause for a second while the compliment sank in. But then Nicole was steering her towards the couch, walking them step by step towards it until she could push Waverly back onto its blue cushions.
Oh, this is better.
Now underneath her, she could better feel Nicole’s body as it hovered over her, propped up on strong arms to keep from crushing her. The weight pinned her, but only barely. The press of Nicole’s body against hers felt good, and the delicious contrast of soft skin and hard muscle left her arching up, trying to feel more of it against her.
Her own hands found Nicole’s shirt and began working on the buttons, which was a much more difficult task than she wanted it to be. Unlike her own shirt, Nicole’s navy flannel had actual buttons, and tightly fitting ones at that. Plus, Nicole wasn’t making it any easier by moving like she was, her lips and tongue blazing a trail from Waverly’s neck down to her collarbone, turning her thoughts to mush and her body into a shuddering mess. Her mouth was hot and rough, contrasting the tickle of her long hair on Waverly’s exposed skin.
Not that she was complaining, of course— Nicole definitely knew what she was doing. Waverly could feel her whole body start to warm, her blood racing under Nicole’s mouth. But it just seemed extremely unfair that Nicole was still fully clothed.
With a growl of frustration, Waverly sat up, Nicole following her lead with only the slightest eyebrow furrow of puzzlement. In one move, Waverly flipped their positions, instead pushing Nicole back on the blue couch and pinning her there.
“You’re overdressed,” she accused flatly, prompting a bark of laughter from Nicole as her fingers went back to work on the buttons, now with better leverage.
“You can just pull it off—” Nicole started, sitting up a little and pulling at the hem, trying to help.
“No, hang on, I’ve almost got it—”
She felt her center of gravity shift and felt the same sinking feeling that usually came just before her body thudded against the dusty arena floor.
“Oh sh—” She grabbed for the back of the couch, but it was too late. She tumbled off the side of the couch, her grasping hands inadvertently pulling Nicole down with her, both of them hitting the floor with an oof. Nicole landed on top of her, knocking the breath out of her.
Nicole, clearly disoriented, tried to roll away, but her arm was caught in Waverly’s shirt, and it took several seconds of fruitless flailing before she managed to scramble off of her.
For a few terrible seconds, there was just a stunned silence between them, and Waverly wasn’t sure what would happen next. Was the moment ruined? Were all thoughts of sex gone for the night? Would either of them ever be able to become aroused ever again? Should she just give up and leave?
Then, from beside her, she felt Nicole start to shake. From where her face was half-buried in her own area rug, there came a muffled noise, which it took Waverly several seconds to recognize as laughter.
Nicole’s back and shoulders were heaving with laughter, and the sound of it triggered some kind of release in Waverly, all the worry slipping away. The picture of them, on the floor next to the couch, clothes askew and hair tousled, still half-tangled up with each other, was suddenly the funniest thing she had seen in weeks. Her own giggles joined Nicole’s, both of them still on the ground.
The tension of the room evaporated, and Waverly reached out and pulled Nicole’s shoulder until she rolled over. Her cheeks were pink and her warm brown eyes were damp from laughter, and Waverly smiled at the sight.
“How is it that I can stay on a bucking bull for eight seconds, but somehow your couch got the best of me?” she joked.
“Can’t we just say I ‘swept you off your feet’ and leave it at that?” Nicole asked. Waverly made a face at the corny joke, but couldn’t help but bite back a laugh. She sat up and offered Nicole a hand up.
“Come on, up and at ‘em, cowboy.”
Nicole accepted her hand, rolling up to her feet with a wince.
“Let’s try for a change of scenery, yeah? I can at least promise I’ve never fallen off the bed before.”
The bedroom was neat and clean, and as promised, it included a queen-sized bed in the middle of the room.
“I think we’ll be safe there,” Waverly said, finishing off her task of unbuttoning Nicole’s shirt. Nicole had offered to just lift it off like a T-shirt, but Waverly had halted her. There was something satisfying about undoing each button one by one, each one revealing a few more inches of tantalizing skin. Nicole obviously found some appeal in the action herself, if her breathing was anything to go by— as Waverly’s hands inched down her torso, each became heavier, and more ragged. The sound itself was going a long way to restoring the mood they had started with— Waverly could feel her body once again warming in anticipation.
Her task complete, Waverly pushed the shirt down off Nicole’s shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. Her bra went next, unclasped and dropped away to reveal her in all her glory. Waverly’s fingertips traced down the newly revealed skin of her sides, making Nicole’s breath hitch.
“Wow, look at you,” Waverly sighed happily. It had been worth the wait. Nicole had called her a vision, but Nicole herself was a revelation. Her eyes drank in her form, from her long arms, to her strong shoulders, the curve of her breasts, her slim waist. Her form was lean, her muscles ropy, and Waverly could make out constellations of faded scars here and there— no doubt souvenirs from her line of work. There was just one thing left…
Her hands found Nicole’s wide leather belt, gravitating to the buckle. For a second, she just gripped it in her hands, teasing them both by dragging out the process a few more seconds.
“I really need you to speed this up,” Nicole said, her voice a little strangled.
“Who, me?” Waverly innocently asked, slowly unbuckling the belt.
“Or else what?”
Apparently, or else Nicole would take over and speed up the process. Nicole’s hands took over, unbuttoning her jeans and wrenching her boots off one by one— each boot went flying in a different direction, including one that nearly took down an entire floor lamp.
“You seem to be in a real hurry. Do you have somewhere to be?” Waverly teased, enjoying the show of Nicole shimmying out of her jeans.
“Yeah, about six feet that way, making you scream,” Nicole countered, nodding towards the bed. She said it so brazenly, so matter-of-factly, that Waverly closed her jaw with a click, a rush of heat flooding through her.
Nicole divested Waverly’s jeans and boots with the same ruthless efficiency (this time actually taking out the floor lamp with a projectile boot), and together they climbed onto the bed, still barely clothed in undergarments, their hats both left nestled together on top of the dresser.
While Nicole’s mouth went back to work on her neck, her hands had slid around to the back of Waverly’s bra, clearly eager to get it out of the way. The bra itself was red, with lace decorating each cup, and Waverly thanked her lucky stars it was a nice-looking one. The last thing she needed was to fall into a surprise one-night-stand on laundry day.
After several seconds of Nicole’s hands feeling around for a nonexistent clasp and tugging experimentally at the band (which clearly didn’t have enough give to be pulled off), they instead relocated to the front, searching there instead for a front-clasp… also to no avail.
Waverly realized the problem in a rush, but before she could explain, Nicole groaned her frustration, her kisses losing focus as her hands rechecked the back and then the front of the bra, pawing fruitlessly.
“Is this some kind of joke?!” Nicole growled, staring at the bra in disbelief, looking like she was on the verge of exploding with desperation.
Waverly didn’t mean to laugh (really, they’d already hit so many roadblocks), but it was too funny not to— the indignant look on her face, the agony and betrayal, so melodramatic.
“This is not funny!” Nicole insisted, although a slight twitch at the corner of her lips suggested otherwise. Waverly just laughed harder, barely able to breathe for giggling. Nicole just sat back, apparently waiting for her to finish.
Finally, putting her out of her misery, Waverly gestured to the side of the bra.
“There’s a zipper. Under a fold of fabric. On the side,” she managed to choke out through her laughter.
With some kind of long-suffering sigh that just set off Waverly’s giggles even worse, Nicole located the offending obstacle and unzipped it.
“Ridiculous,” Nicole grumbled, making short work of the rest of the bra, pulling it away with an impressive level of suaveness considering that Waverly was still laughing rather than assisting the process. But the look in Nicole’s eyes as she gazed appreciatively at her breasts was anything but funny. “Definitely worth the trouble,” Nicole commented lightly. Her hand reached up, but stopped just short of her breast to instead trace the reddish line left by the bra. “That doesn’t look comfortable.” Her hand rubbed at the marks, almost soothingly. Waverly thought about saying something about barrel racing and high-impact exercise, but it seemed entirely beyond the point.
Because then Nicole’s face was descending on her, her lips closing over one nipple and a swirl of her tongue that nearly sent Waverly shooting into the headboard as she arched into it.
“God— You are… really good at that,” she gasped, hands fisting the blankets as her whole body squirmed under the sensation. She felt a chuckle against her skin.
“Well I should hope so. I did promise to make you scream, didn’t I?” The words were accompanied by the barest graze of her teeth, which threatened to fulfill their promise just like that.
“You want me to scream your name?” Waverly asked, trying to keep a low, seductive tone in spite of her thundering heartbeat.
“If you want. Or you can just call me… Daddy.”
The line was delivered smooth as silk, with a lascivious smile that for just an instant made it almost tempting.
But if there was one word in the world that acted as an ice bucket to her libido, it was that one.
She considered just letting it go, but the longer she went without answering, the more conspicuous it seemed.
“Um… Actually, I’d rather not?” she said awkwardly, making Nicole pause with her face against her chest, comically mid-lick. “It’s just… that’s what I called my dad, and he was kind of an… abusive alcoholic shit-ticket, so…”
Nicole pulled back just slightly, the salacious look fading into something more serious.
“Oh. Yeah, absolutely. You don’t have to if it makes you uncomfortable. That’s totally fine. Sorry.” The suave facade fell away in an instant, like taking a mask off… and yet, Waverly found her real sincerity just as charming as her bravado— maybe even more so. “Um… you can call me something else then. You can just…” She seemed to cast around briefly for an alternative. “Call me Mommy— Nope. Nope nope nope. All the nopes. The second I said that out loud, I could hear it. Should not have said it.” Nicole rolled off of her, groaning unhappily, the moment thoroughly ruined.
Waverly tried not to laugh, but the absurdity of it all, juxtaposed against the seriousness, make her snicker. Nicole just groaned again, a picture of misery.
“I can’t believe I said that. I’ll never recover. I’m going to throw myself out the window.” She sat up, gesturing towards said window.
Waverly stifled her laughter and held out a hand as though to stop her.
“Don’t throw yourself out the window,” she said, although her voice still shook with suppressed giggles. Nicole shook her head sadly.
“No, it’s too late. Neither of us will ever be able to get turned on again after that. It’s best to give up now. The window is the only way.”
“Noooooo…” Waverly protested, pulling her back down onto the mattress and rolling on top of her instead. She straddled her hips, pinning her to the bed, even as the redhead covered her eyes with her arm. “Don’t go.”
“Are you sure?” Nicole asked, barely peeking out from under her arm. Waverly pulled the arm aside to get a proper view of her face.
“Tell you what, why don’t I just call you ‘Nicole?’” She suggested, and pressed a kiss to Nicole’s lips. They were soft, and almost sweet. “Or… baby… Or…” She grinned down. “Cowboy?”
“Partner?” Nicole added, looking a little less hopeless than before.
“Rodeo Protection Athlete?” Waverly teased. Nicole laughed weakly.
“You aren’t going to let me live that down, are you?”
“Nope. It’s a silly name.” She booped the tip of Nicole’s nose in reprimand, causing her to scrunch it adorably. “And ‘bullfighter’ sounds cooler anyway.”
“So you still want to do this?” Nicole asked. “You still want to have sex with me? Even though clearly God or the universe or someone doesn’t want this to happen?”
Waverly raised her eyebrows, a little incredulous.
“Sorry, am I being too subtle for you?” She was perched atop Nicole’s body, in her bed, straddling her hips, both of them one thin strip of fabric away from naked. To emphasize her point, she proceeded to grind against Nicole, the friction and pressure a much-needed relief after all their foreplay failures.
The feeling was clearly mutual— a strangled moan erupted from Nicole’s chest at the sudden stimulation, and Waverly could feel her body flex under the attention.
“What would you do if I said yes?” Nicole said, her voice breathy, but with something like a challenge in her tone. Waverly shook her head, feeling the mood shift back into something more sensual.
“I guess maybe I could…” She trailed off momentarily and leaned down until their faces were only a scant few centimeters apart, and she could feel Nicole’s shaky breaths against her lips. “Ride your face like a bucking bull. Only we’d both better last more than eight seconds.” She tilted her head just slightly. “Would that prove it to you?”
“Well… It definitely couldn’t hurt,” Nicole said, some of her earlier smug confidence shining through once again.
Waverly hadn’t necessarily been entirely literal when she had proposed face-riding, so it was hard to not be a little surprised as Nicole’s hands found her thighs and started pulling her further up the bed, apparently taking her at her word.
“Right… Well… Ride ‘em, cowboy, right?” Waverly joked a little, trying to diffuse her own nervousness. As she continued to inch her way up Nicole’s body, her hands pushed down her last remaining stitch of clothing— her underwear. Waverly felt herself start to shiver in anticipation for the first real touch.
It was lucky that the bed had a headboard, because as Nicole’s mouth found a home between her legs, her tongue spreading her open and sucking gently at her hood, Waverly suddenly found it very necessary to grab onto something.
It’s not like it was the first time anyone had ever gone down on her, but as Nicole’s lips and tongue worked their magic, she suddenly felt a dawning awareness that none of them had ever been good at it before.
One of her hands clutched the headboard for dear life, keeping her increasingly shaky legs from dropping her full weight onto her partner, while her other hand instinctively buried itself in Nicole’s hair, holding her head in place.
She could feel heat and wetness trickling between her legs, egged on by the talented strokes of Nicole’s tongue— the long, languid flat of it, then something firmer and quicker, like a flick. She moaned, her grip on both the headboard and Nicole’s hair tightening as a lightheaded tingling started to build.
“Is that doing it for you, cowgirl?” Nicole’s voice, rough and breathless, taunted her.
“Christ, Nicole—” Waverly gasped. “Who told you to stop?”
Nicole gave a chuckle that, seconds later, Waverly could literally feel against her clit, the throaty rumble of it, the exhalation of air. A wordless cry escaped her lips, and her legs trembled again.
Then, to her horror, they buckled. There was a grunt of surprise from under her, and as she tried to scramble back, she felt one of her knees connect with something that gave an ominous crunch upon impact. Nicole shot back with a sharp, surprisingly girlish yelp.
“Oh my god, are you okay?” Waverly said quickly, her face burning so red with embarrassment she wasn’t sure it would ever go back to normal.
Nicole blinked open watering eyes, her hands fluttering around her nose. She looked pained, her forehead creased several times over in distress.
Oh god, is it broken? Did I break her nose? Did it look like that before? Is it bleeding?
“Stay here, I’m going to get you some ice.” Waverly, still fully naked, her body caught between being painfully turned on and absolutely horrified, scrambled off the bed and out of the room. On her way to the kitchen, she caught sight of the front door and for just a moment was sorely tempted to just bolt… But first off, she was buck naked; and second off, her phone and wallet and everything were still in the bedroom; and third off, after everything, she really at least owed Nicole the mercy of an icepack.
She returned to the bedroom with some ice wrapped in a dishtowel, holding it up sheepishly. Nicole seemed slightly recovered. Her eyes were dry now, her face preoccupied scrunching and wiggling her nose while her finger tapped along its length, clearly searching for some sign of fracture.
Waverly held out the ice like a peace offering, and Nicole took it with a smile— which Waverly hadn’t expected.
“Thanks,” Nicole said, gingerly pressing the towel to her nose. “I don’t think it’s broken.”
“Nicole, I’m so sorry. Really. I just… I can leave if you want me to.”
“No, stay,” Nicole said immediately. “I mean, unless you really don’t want to.”
“Really?” Waverly asked, doubt warring with the flicker of hope in her chest.
“Yeah.” Nicole lowered the icepack and probed again at the bridge of her nose. “It’s fine. Really. You know what I do for a living. I’ve taken worse kicks than that. You’re strong, but you’re no Plummer bull. I’m fine. Honestly.”
“And you want me to stay?” Waverly asked, finding it hard to believe after everything— the hat incident, the couch incident, the bra incident, the knee incident…
“Yeah. I do, actually. Is that weird?” Nicole asked it with a grin, as though she found the whole situation ludicrously funny.
“No, I’d… I’d like to stay.”
“I can’t promise I’ll be recovered enough to try again tonight, but maybe tomorrow morning, if my nose is better. And maybe in a slightly… safer position.”
“You mean stay the night?” Waverly asked, a little stunned at the prospect.
“Only if you want,” Nicole clarified quickly. “But yeah. I like you. I’d like you to stay.”
Waverly felt a small, warm glow in her chest, and she couldn’t help but give a small, relieved laugh.
“Well, when you put it that way…”
The rest of the night was less… eventful… than it had started. Nicole fetched her laptop and, after some brief debate (including Waverly teasing her mercilessly for her Golden Girls DVD collection), ended up playing Coyote Ugly as they both lounged in bed in varying states of undress. Nicole produced snacks from the kitchen, and some painkillers from the medicine cabinet. Waverly made sure she was icing her injured nose in twenty-minute intervals, even helping her hold the pack in place when it became obvious she was tired of the task. Nicole told her the stories of some of her scars, and Waverly told her about her horse Jellybean (and explained the name, of course, since everyone always asked).
It was… nice. Maybe not what they had planned for the night, but nice.
They both fell asleep with the laptop still playing the movie’s menu screen on an endless loop, and Waverly slept so soundly that she didn’t even get cold.
She woke in the early morning feeling cozy and well-rested. Nicole’s body was warm and solid against her back, but far more interestingly, one of Nicole’s hands was cupped between her legs.
“You awake?” Nicole’s voice asked after a minute, her head nuzzling against Waverly’s.
“Yeah. Is your nose okay?” Waverly asked, her voice still throaty from sleep.
“All better,” Nicole promised. Her hand curled a little against Waverly’s center, her fingers pressing up, and Waverly suddenly felt extremely awake. “Now I believe there was some talk about a re-ride…”