Logically, Waverly knew that what she’d done wasn't right.
But she had the research, the means and, most of all, she had the anger.
So, she’d taken that trophy for herself and made a wish. An all-encompassing wish for it all to be hers: the town, the curse, and the kind, new deputy.
That was how she ended up here: waking up to Nicole sleeping next to her in a room that was familiar but not hers.
The harsh glow of the early summer morning brightened the whole room, and it felt warm enough for Waverly to move -- slowly, careful not to wake her new bedmate -- and get out from under the light blankets that covered her. Reaching the window, she could see the same old green fields that had always been laid outside the homestead, the same lake her sister had drowned her toys into. She was home.
For the better this time, she was home.
And then the realization hit. Really hit. The spell. It must have worked.
Her limbs trembled as excitement started running through her, and she left the bedroom on unstable legs in search of her new reality.
It was definitely the homestead, but the renovation had made it almost unrecognizable. There was no wall separating the kitchen from the living room anymore, and the small bedroom on the ground floor was now twice its former size, the house having grown over quite a few feet of land.
Euphoria pushed the rhythm of her heart, and a smile she couldn’t control took up her whole face as she climbed up the stairs again and reentered the bedroom, now made into a suite, she realized. In there, Nicole still laid asleep, her red hair adding a special, beautiful touch to Waverly’s new bed.
Logically, Waverly knew it wasn't right. But it felt so, so good.
Purgatory had lived up to its name ever since Waverly was four years old.
First it took her mom –- the only loving parent she had –-, and soon enough it took her father and her oldest sister, Willa.
Then, little by little, it took Wynonna.
First it was only for a few weeks at a time, and Waverly used to believe that someday soon, any day now, her sister would be back to take Waverly away with her. But as the both of them grew up, and as those weeks became months, became years, that fantasy ebbed away, just not without leaving a pink, tender scar behind.
Holding the trophy in the barn, Waverly stared at her own distorted reflection on the metal. Three years. She hadn’t seen Wynonna in three years. Hadn’t heard her voice in two. Not even to wish her a happy birthday.
And though Waverly did try not to blame Wynonna too much, given that Purgatory had been even harder on her than it was on Waverly, the hurt of being left behind again and again could not be easily reasoned with.
The more recent loss of her uncle was another heavy blow, another punch added to what Purgatory did and had always done daily: it dragged Waverly into all the blood and mud that had surrounded her family name ever since decades before any of these tragedies had even knocked on her door. Purgatory had a talent, you see –- what it didn’t take by sudden violence, was slowly suffocated by the casual cruelty of its inhabitants.
The euphoria pumping through Waverly had her too restless. She opened her closet and ran her hands over bright-colored blouses and somber pantsuits, pulling one out to hold it up in front of herself as she checked her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was shorter, she noticed, and ran a hand through it, feeling the smooth and now lighter strands, then down the pantsuit. This could be her. This was h-
A soft groan pulled her attention to Nicole’s reflection, still asleep, but not for much longer, it seemed. Waverly put her clothes down and walked to the bed to sit beside her, but her presence didn’t alert the sleeping beauty. She placed a hand on Nicole’s shoulder, pushed her a little as she whispered her name –- impatient for her new life to begin.
Waverly observed the barely-there movements of Nicole’s eyelids, but her eyes fell from Nicole’s face when she didn't react further than that. She followed smooth skin down the hollow of Nicole’s neck and up a barely covered shoulder, where Waverly’s hand rested. Oh.
There were two rings adorning her left hand. One of them was big and heavy on her index finger, carrying an oval, dark stone. It wasn’t really her style, and it wasn’t really what held her attention either.
The other one, though...
The other ring consisted of a simple, golden band wrapped easily around her ring finger, and its implication had Waverly faltering.
She’d wished for Nicole.
She’d wished for her, and now Nicole was her wife. Not just someone who warmed her bed, or even a girlfriend. Her wife.
That was when, slowly, still half-asleep, Nicole turned further into her. “Wave? What time is it?” she mumbled, her vowels breaking and consonants half-formed. Still, the warmth in her voice pushed all air from Waverly’s lungs.
Barely breathing, Waverly looked at the digital clock on her side of the bed. She answered something, hopefully the same numbers that she’d read, but she didn’t know for sure -- she didn’t really register anything that wasn’t her wife moving sluggishly on her bed.
Nicole cursed under her breath and sat up suddenly. She frowned as she took in Waverly and the room, seemingly disoriented. Which, Waverly thought, eyes quickly falling to the golden band again, was to be expected. After all, she was the one who’d put all of this into motion, and she still felt like the room had spun out of air.
“Sorry, baby,” Nicole said as she stood up, a bit unsteady, “I need to rush to the station.”
Waverly’s eyes followed her –- picking something up from a half-closed drawer, walking into the bathroom –- all long, bare legs and goosebump-covered skin.
With a quiet click, the door to their bathroom fell closed, a physical barrier between Waverly and the subject of her attention...
Maybe a cup of coffee could help ease them both into this new reality.
It was kind of amazing how peaceful the homestead felt when there was no one to fear within it. Waverly had always thought that the house was home to too many ghosts to ever be welcoming to her, but now she stood corrected. The breeze that entered through the kitchen window carried only the smell of some sweet flowers planted right below it and the singing tunes of birds and frogs. There were no raised voices, no threats, no broken glasses.
Waverly breathed it all in, focused on the moment, weary of letting her mind take her back to another time. But then the day called to her: the coffee pot beeped, and rushed footsteps sounded down the stairs. And then Nicole was right there, already in full uniform and her hair a little wet. There was a smile on her lips and a button at her fingertips as she fought to close her shirt’s right cuff, that simple ring twin to Waverly’s adorning her finger.
She wore it well. The ring too but, specifically, the uniform. She always had, at least in the few months Waverly had known her. She always left two buttons out of their case at the collar –- probably for comfort; Waverly didn’t know. It was not as if those two buttons made a big difference. They only allowed for a bit of Nicole’s breastbone to breathe unimpeded, but that inch of skin had proven to keep Waverly captive whenever they were in the same room.
“Like a girl in uniform, do you?” Nicole teased as she rounded on her, trapping Waverly against the kitchen island. There was a twinkle in her eyes and a smirk on her lips. She was playful in the morning –- or, at least, this morning -– and Waverly took note of that.
“Well, I married you, didn’t I?” The words felt heavy on her tongue.
Nicole didn’t answer. She simply reached behind Waverly and poured herself a cup of coffee. Still in Waverly’s space, she took a sip, her stare challenging, and Waverly just stood there, trapped in a game she’d never played, waiting for the next move.
An amused smile stretched pink lips behind the cup, Nicole finally giving up whatever pretense this was. “You’re staring a lot today,” she said, moving even closer, as if their bodies had done this dance a thousand times before. Soft, coffee-warm lips met Waverly’s in a gentle, good-morning kiss. Waverly cupped Nicole’s jaw to make it last a little longer, then let her hands trace down Nicole’s rough uniform when those sweet lips were pulled away. The touch of metal against her fingertips caught Waverly’s attention, and she read the small, golden tag pinned to Nicole’s chest – Sheriff N. Haught-Earp.
Waverly had wished for the town. Had wished to own it. It made sense that her wife would be the law, and not only a deputy anymore.
“Thank you for the coffee,” Nicole said in a hushed tone, matching the quiet that fell upon them on that early morning. It brought Waverly’s attention up again, into eyes warm as daylight. “Lunch’s on me.”
As she sat on an extremely comfortable leather chair, Waverly could admit that being mayor wasn’t exactly her dream job, but it did have its advantages. Her office was on the second floor of a two-story building, so she didn’t exactly have a view, but she could watch the Purgatorians go about their day, could see the kids playing in the park across the street, the dogs on their daily walk.
It also gave her access to documents she’d have had a hard time getting to before. Old city plans, registers of the businesses that used to run in town, of the buildings; and, of course, whatever she couldn’t access legally… Well, she certainly had much more pull now as the mayor than she ever did as a bartender.
And wasn’t that the goal? To have enough pull to push the likes of Judge Cryderman into a corner? Now she could make them pay. Pay for what they’d done to Wynonna, for all the ostracizing and finger pointing and downright escape-goating she’d been submitted to; they would pay for all that had made her leave Waverly behind.
Plus, Waverly thought as she looked at the documents spread over her dark wooden desk, she was good with paperwork and records and the town’s history. She’d been dealing with that kind of documents since she was 17 years old, always researching, always looking for how she could end the curse, how she could become the hero that no other Earp had been since Wyatt. And she could be good at this, at running a town and serving justice and killing demons. She knew she could, and now she had the means to.
Waverly ran her fingers over the stacks of paper, over the organized blue pens and the corner of a grey picture frame. She picked it up and studied, with her eyes and fingertips, the image of Nicole and herself smiling –- Nicole at the camera, Waverly at Nicole. They’d never taken that picture; Waverly had never held Nicole like that. And yet, there it sat, the physical proof of what hadn’t happened.
Waverly brushed a thumb over the two smiling faces, and then, uneasy, she looked away.
She would make a difference. And if she could nudge the Sheriff Station down the right path someday soon, then all the better.
Waverly hated him. She hated his boyish looks and his too-white teeth and gelled hair and tight shirts. She hated him. Hated the humiliation she’d let him make her suffer since she was 16 years old.
“Miss Earp,” the new deputy called to her, her tone purposefully gentle, patient, and hands slightly raised in a placating gesture. “Please, put the gun down. Mr. Hardy’s been escorted out. It’s been dealt with, okay?”
“That cheating asshole!” Waverly exclaimed, tears tracking down her cheeks. “In my room. The room that I rent.”
The deputy nodded. “He’s not worth the dirt you walk on, Miss Earp, and he’s especially not worth having a criminal record over.”
Waverly looked into compassionate honey eyes, in direct contradiction to the edge in her voice that warned Waverly off the thin line she was walking on.
“What’s your name, deputy?”
“Nicole, Ma’am. Nicole Haught.”
“Nicole,” Waverly tested the word slowly, then corrected herself, “Deputy Haught. It’s not about him. It’s the humiliation. In my bed! Do you understand?”
“I do,” she nodded, a frown darkening her eyes. “But he’s the one that should feel ashamed, not you. You did nothing wrong. Yet,” the deputy added, her eyes falling to the gun still in Waverly’s hold.
Waverly looked at it, then at Deputy Haught’s hands, still urging her to calm down, and up her uniform, unbuttoned at the top and displaying soft skin, and into brown eyes. Waverly sighed and lowered her shotgun at last. She had no intention of being a threat to this deputy. “He should, shouldn’t he?”
“Yea.” It was agreed upon so easily, so yielding to Waverly’s ire and grief that most of it just… fell away, dispersed by the lack of conflict. “You deserve better, Miss Earp. If he’s not what you want, cut him out of your life. I know that most things aren’t that easy”, the deputy, Nicole, added knowingly –- and Waverly could only guess that, as always, she’d been made known without being given the chance to introduce herself, “but a boyfriend… a boyfriend can be cut out. Left behind.”
“Cut out,” Waverly repeated, relieved just at the idea of not having Champ in her life anymore. “Wish I could do the same with everything else.”
“Yea… Some things can’t be escaped. At least not so easily.”
“No,” she agreed as the phantom of a thought took place in her head, “not easily.”
Nicole messaged her on that first day: she couldn’t make it to lunch. The Sheriff Station was drowning in calls: misplaced cars, missing people reports that were undone before the call was even finished, B&E complaints accusing the house’s own owner, small traffic crashes and so on.
Nicole: I know Purgatory can be quirky, but this is a lot even for us.
I guess it’s one of those days…
Nicole: Must be... I’ll make it up to you at dinner, okay?
I’ll hold you to that
Waverly would hypocritically hold her to that. The town’s confusion was her own fault, after all. It was just hard not to talk to Nicole like that. Flirting. Not that she even had a reason not to; not now that, as far as Nicole and the whole town knew, they were married. And even before, even then Nicole had flirted with her from the minute she’d been off duty, and Waverly had been instantly charmed. She’d been caught off-guard too, had stumbled a little in her search for something to say, flustered and pink-cheeked when under Nicole’s attention.
It all made it hard not to say now what she’d wanted to say before. After all, this was her Purgatory now, tailored to her needs.
‘Angel of the morning’ sounded from the old jukebox as Waverly found her eyes moving back to the same corner table over and over again.
The new deputy, Nicole –- and even in her own head her voice sounded softer when speaking Nicole’s name –- had been made sit with Nedley and Gregory Nelson the moment she stepped into Shorty’s.
Nicole had an easy smile on her face as she talked to them, and both Nedley and Mr. Nelson seemed as charmed by those dimples as Waverly felt.
Nicole had a way about her, an attentive kindness and an edge that made everybody around her feel like they were being listened to, like what they had to say was important to her, while still respecting her authority.
Not that Waverly had observed her much, but she did work in a bar, and Purgatory had an extremely limited nightlife, unless you were partial to a more adult outing. So, she’d had the chance to see Nicole two, sometimes three times a week since her arrival in town, and it seemed like she was a unanimity around the Purgatorians. Even Champ, who’d been arrested by Nicole more than once since his and Waverly’s break up, seemed to like her and easily follow her outside whenever Nicole was required to intervene.
It should be disturbing or at least annoying, but Waverly found herself just as under Nicole’s spell as the rest of the town.
“A whiskey, officer?” Waverly asked as Nicole finally took a seat at the bar. This close, she looked even more beautiful.
“Just Nicole today. And yes. Neat, please.”
Waverly nodded and started pouring the drink. Her gaze traced the open buttons of Nicole’s uniform, both at her collarbone and around her wrists. Slender fingers folded the left sleeve up to Nicole’s elbow, showing smooth, light skin and the shadow of a green vein.
Was it normal to feel attracted to the skin of someone’s wrists?
“Shit stick,” Waverly cursed under her breath as some of the whiskey missed the glass, more of a knee-jerk reaction than real worry over a bit of wasted booze and sticky hands.
“Where did you go?” Nicole asked, curiosity gleaming in her eyes.
“Nowhere. I guess I’ve just been a bit more distracted lately.”
Nicole nodded, a low hum sounding from closed lips. “And Champ isn’t bothering you anymore, is he?”
Waverly shrugged. Champ could be annoying, but he wasn’t really cause for worry. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
“Waverly!” the high-pitched scream sounded from a few feet away –- Stephanie Jones waving her over as she approached the bar.
Waverly sighed, already dreading that conversation, but moved over to her friend.
“Girls night out in the city tomorrow!” Stephanie invited, too hyped to be under the influence of only alcohol.
“I can’t, Steph. I have an essay to finish.”
“Essay?” she questioned, as if offended by the mere existence of the word. “Why do you even bother with these online courses? Come on, it’s not like you’ll need them serving drinks at Shorty’s. Let’s party!”
Waverly could feel the sudden heat rising to her cheeks, the shame bringing her flight instinct to the forefront of her mind. She just wanted Stephanie gone, wanted to cut the conversation short. “I’ll think about it.”
“I’ll hold you to it,” Stephanie said with a teasing lilt in her intonation, her back already to Waverly as she got distracted by the group of boys huddled around the pool table.
Waverly turned back around but avoided meeting Nicole’s eyes. Whatever look she was likely to find –- pity over her unrealistic ambitions or disapproval over how easily she’d folded –- wasn’t one she wanted to see framed by Nicole’s features.
“Hey,” Nicole called for her attention.
Reluctantly, Waverly looked up briefly before staring back at the glass she was rinsing. “Hey,” she threw back.
“This course you’re taking, what’s it about?”
“Oh –-” surprised by the question, Waverly met Nicole’s expectant gaze. “History. More specifically North America from the 17 th to the 19 th century.”
“The wild, wild West, huh?” Nicole asked.
“Yes –-” Waverly’s eyes widened. “Not a lot of people around here know what that little interval means, despite, you know…” Waverly indicated the plaque calling tourists to ‘drink where Wyatt Earp did!’. “Wait. Are you an Earper?”
“A fan of Waverly Earp?” Nicole asked, smooth as silk as she rekindled the pink in Waverly’s cheeks.
“W- Wyatt. Wyatt Earp.”
“Ah. No. I mean, I know a little about him, but I wouldn’t call myself a fan. Of his anyways.”
“Right.” Waverly was sure her whole face was fire-red.
“So, your essay, is it focused on your family history?” The redirection allowed Waverly to breathe and to, hopefully, slow down the blood racing in her veins.
“I’m that obvious, huh?”
“No, not at all. I guess it’s only natural, isn’t it? You must have inherited a lot of knowledge about the great Wyatt Earp that other historians could only dream of getting their hands on.”
“Other historians? I haven’t graduated yet, I’m- I’m not a historian.”
Nicole squinted at her, an amused smile on her lips.
“Don’t lie to me, Waverly Earp –-” she knocked once on the bartop, a light punctuation to her calling Waverly out. “I see you walking in and out of the station’s archive with your yellowed pages and photographs. You’re a historian.”
Waverly lowered her head, trying to hide a smile she hadn’t been able to contain otherwise, but didn’t avoid Nicole’s interested gaze.
“You’re sweet, Deputy Haught.”
Nicole leaned further onto the bar. “You think so?” she asked, her intent so clear in how her eyes met Waverly’s that Waverly’s whole body felt awakened with it.
Suddenly more flustered than she knew what to do with, Waverly drew herself back. “I’m pretty sure the whole town thinks so.”
“Hm.” Dark eyes sparkled at her.
Waverly was honestly a little surprised that Nicole was already home –- and busy in the kitchen –- after the chaos that this first day had been.
“Tough day?” Nicole asked as she offered Waverly a plate with a simple but clearly carefully made hot sandwich cut into two triangles.
“A bit, yea. But nothing compared to yours, I assume.” Waverly circled the island slowly, attentively. Despite the friendly relationship she’d had with Nicole before, this new setting was, well, new. It felt like she was walking on a water mattress –- unbalanced, uncertain that it would hold her, and afraid that her next step would be the thing that would break it, leaving her to sleep alone on the wet floor.
“It wasn’t that bad, actually,” Nicole said and picked up her plate. Waverly followed her toward the couch. “The calls completely dropped past midday. And I left the boys writing the reports. Perks of being the boss,” she concluded. “And how about you –-” Nicole sat down beside her and pulled Waverly’s legs onto her lap –- “wanna tell me about yours?”
This was nice, Waverly thought. She’d thought she’d have to put more work into this, into figuring out how to exist with Nicole. But it was nice having someone to talk to at home –- Waverly took a small bite of her sandwich –- someone who cared enough to prepare her a vegan snack. “Not much to tell, just a whole lot of paperwork.”
“Oh, baby!” Nicole exclaimed, way too much sorrow in her voice for Waverly to mistake it as genuine. Nicole's thumbs started a slow massage of Waverly’s calves. “I’m so sorry. Paperwork days are the worst.”
Waverly bit back a smile and sighed to herself as Nicole slowly worked the tension off her legs. “It’s improving, though. I feel better already.”
“You’re so easy to please,” Nicole teased her further, a proud grin on her lips. “Now eat your dinner.”
Waverly got used to it very quickly.
Got used to the respectful nods she received as people passed her by on the streets, to all the wishes of good morning Madam Mayor; got used to having people listen to her when she had something to add –- she’d just started and already she’d made life easier for the tenants of Purgatory.
And the nights were even easier.
Nicole seemed to like watching Waverly sing as she cooked; and Nicole would cook too, only her vegan repertoire was smaller and not as perfected as Waverly’s. Nicole also liked to nod off while holding Waverly as she read some left-over file from work, and especially liked to make out with Waverly on the couch once she was half-awake from her light nap, slow and warm and so undemanding that it eventually simmered down, and the need for actual sleep in an actual bed became more prominent for the both of them.
It felt like a gentle fire had made its home underneath Waverly’s skin, always waiting to be rekindled by the touch of Nicole’s lips behind her jawline; her work instantly forgotten once Nicole’s attention was offered.
But there were some downsides…
It turned out that being mayor of a small town involved a lot of having her office stormed into by unhappy citizens. Thankfully, those particular unhappy citizens were the ones she had aimed to keep that way.
In an unfortunate turn of events, Bunny Loblaw’s recent investment in the first Purgatory Mall had gone down the drain due to some irregularities found concerning the land. And Judge Cryderman seemed to be really upset when, during the last town council, a well-meaning town attorney accidently informed his wife of a couple of apartments he had under the name of their former housekeeper.
A shame, really.
“I don’t know what to say, Mr. Cryderman, none of that seems like any of my business.”
“I agree, Mrs. Earp, and yet that childhood friend of yours was looking into my business and saw fit to share it with my wife.”
“You make it sound like Chrissy went through your underwear drawer. It’s public record; seems to me like you should perhaps hide your affairs a little better,” Waverly replied, and offered him a cynical smile.
“I see –-” he nodded, his dark eyes cold and calculating as he watched her. “I’d be more cautious about the relationships you choose to nurture while in office, Madam Mayor. This isn’t kindergarten.”
“It’s not your boys’ club either.”
As the door closed on his back with a hard bang, Waverly figured that, all in all, everything was going pretty well.
Waverly looked up from her computer to find Nicole leaning against her office’s door frame for the third time that week, two Styrofoam boxes held in her hands.
“Can I interest you in a veggie burger with mustard sauce, rice, salad and a side of fries?”
“Well, I can’t say no to that.”
“Right?!” Nicole exclaimed, her smile brightening the whole room. “This smells so good even I went for the vegan option today. You ok to take a break now?”
“Yes, of course,” Waverly agreed easily, tempted by the food as much as by the dimples marking Nicole’s cheeks. “Anything for my wife.”
“Mhm… Slow day?”
“It’s more of a taking-stock day, to be honest.” It’d been almost two weeks. More than enough time for Waverly to acclimate herself and start doing what she set herself up to do. She’d allowed herself to be too distracted by the newness of it all, and, well, enough of that now. “I found some old papers that I think might actually be of interest to you.”
“Me?” Nicole asked distractedly, her focus completely taken by the fries.
“Yes, some internal investigations of Judge Cryderman that went nowhere. Maybe it’s time we reach the bottom of it?”
Nicole raised one eyebrow at her, but the smirk on her lips suggested more amusement than reprimand. “And how, pray tell, did files from Internal Affairs get to your hands, Madam Mayor?”
“Well, there’s a concerned attorney-”
“Who does not go by Chrissy Nedley and did not become concerned due to any urging of your own, right?”
Nicole sighed in happy surrender, with her smile still untamed. “Well, he is kind of a dick. If you have a lead for me-”
“I do,” Waverly interrupted, pushing the papers toward her.
Nicole started shuffling through them, reading the parts already highlighted by Waverly’s pink marker. “Waverly, these documents are over 10 years old.”
Her wife sighed again and looked down, folding the stack of papers in half. “I’ll look into it.”
Waverly was in the kitchen when she heard the hum of an engine approaching the homestead. She’d just completed her first couple of weeks as mayor, and she was finally starting to fully envision her gameplay. One by one, she’d take care of the snakes that crawled around Purgatory.
Happy with the small steps taken that day, Waverly sang the melody of an old country song under her breath as she prepared the filling for the tacos Nicole and she would be having for dinner. The sound of the alarm being set outside had her singing coming out lower and lower, until it stopped just as heavy booted steps sounded on the porch.
Her hearing attentive, it followed the metallic sound of a key working the lock, and the small click of the door falling closed again. Softer steps, then, crossed the living room and entered her kitchen.
“Sorry I’m late, cutie,” Nicole greeted, and embraced her from behind. Waverly set down the knife she’d been holding and rested her arms over Nicole’s, welcoming her touch. “There was a car accident, I had to go over how to process it with Lonnie so that someday, hopefully soon, he can do it himself.”
“Did anybody get hurt?”
“No, just a bit of a fender bender.” Nicole pressed a kiss to Waverly’s shoulder, her chin coming to rest on it, nose right below Waverly’s ear, and ran her hands over her waist in a repetitive, slow motion. The touches were innocent enough, but something felt different in Nicole’s grip, in her breathing, and it increased Waverly’s heartbeat successfully. “Tacos?”
“Yea,” Waverly answered, a little breathless.
“Delicious.” The word was pressed against her ear, provoking a full-body shiver from Waverly.
“That’s-” Waverly started, but cut herself. She wasn’t sure where she’d been going with it. “Sweetheart, I’m trying to make dinner.”
Despite Waverly’s warning, Nicole slowly started working at the buttons of her pants. There were three, and still on the first button Waverly felt her muscles clenching in, abs tight in anticipation. She turned around before Nicole had the chance to finish the second, her chest already heaving.
“Are you sure?”
“Am I sure that I want to touch my wife?” Nicole asked, her voice deeper than usual, her hands moving deliberately over Waverly’s hips again. “Yea, I am.”
Waverly’s heart raced, yearning and guilt pushing the muscle into a crippling rhythm. “No,” she corrected, “are you sure you want to touch me?”
Nicole’s reaction was expected: she frowned, obviously confused. And why wouldn’t she be when she didn’t know, had no way to understand-
“Just-” Waverly interrupted her own thoughts, “are you? Are you sure?”
“I’m sure,” Nicole replied, her mouth so close to and then on Waverly’s, hot and slow and absolutely toe-curling. The teasing lilt of a tongue against her own had Waverly opening herself further. She wanted Nicole to touch her everywhere.
Nicole undid her own shirt first, and below the rough fabric Waverly found smooth, salty skin –- her hands and mouth eager explorers. Waverly’s shirt was next, and her chest felt sensitive where the air touched it, skin raised in goosebumps and aching for Nicole’s lips to bruise her –- an ache that was mirrored between her thighs. Waverly pulled Nicole harder into herself to appease it, relieved and apprehensive when dexterous hands finally started to push her pants down her hips.
“No. Wait,” Waverly interrupted, her heart beating up her throat. She’d never- And Nicole- God. This was a mess, but Waverly needed… and Nicole had said- Nicole had said-
Nicole was kissing up her neck, and her hips rolled, slow and rough, between Waverly’s thighs, and her tone was teasing as a single word was pressed right below Waverly’s ear. “No?”
A shiver ran through her. “Bed,” Waverly amended; it felt like her whole body was pulsing for Nicole. “In bed.”
The few seconds it took them to climb the stairs and close themselves into the bedroom were enough for Waverly’s body to calm down a little and for her head to start overthinking. She was nervous, her hands trembling as they pulled Nicole to her.
“Hey,” Nicole called, worried but calming eyes studying her. She moved slowly, though she didn't falter. Her hands ran surely over Waverly’s thighs, heavy enough to feel grounding, and squeezed the tension from the muscle before moving further up to press between her legs, a full touch that pulled a groan out of her. Waverly’s hips canted up, greedy and more than a little desperate.
“Easy,” Nicole whispered against Waverly’s forehead as Waverly watched that hand moving on her, hindered still by her jeans. “Easy, baby.”
“Off. Take it off, I need-”
“I know,” Nicole said, already lowering herself to knee in front of her.
The suggestion was enough for her to clench around nothing. Warm and wet and inviting.
There was no room for embarrassment when Nicole was soon pushing her, completely naked, to lie on the bed, spreading Waverly to devour her, her touch firm and burning.
The contrast between sharp suction and dull, dragged pressure had Waverly almost sobbing into her own arm, her chest quivering –- just like her whole body, still so empty –- as she tried to control her breathing.
Her hips rolled up restlessly, chasing the feeling that was stronger on that single point being pushed harder and harder against and into Nicole’s mouth. Fast, way too fast she felt pleasure coiling and centering itself between her thighs, tight and pulsing, pushing unruly, breathy moans out of her even as she tried to hold them back –- and then, it overflowed, spread from within her in warm, delicious, throbbing waves that had her legs locking Nicole into place, bringing Nicole even closer to her, desperate for more despite how sensitive she felt.
She held Nicole to her, receiving kiss after kiss right on that tender junction of nerves. Messy as she was, Waverly felt Nicole work at her with little resistance. The slight stretch felt good; having Nicole felt good, so close, within… that constant friction over sensitive skin and over an already abused point of pleasure. Waverly hadn’t even fully climbed down from her first high but she was already, or still, trembling, her body willingly at Nicole’s mercy, pulling her in in tight grips of her talented, relentless fingers. And suddenly the room felt too warm and her nipples too tender, and the overstimulation... and her tightening walls and she had to be so swollen with how full she felt, and she was sensitive, sensitive, sensitive as she came again, thighs shaking, her right hand wrapped viciously in Nicole’s hair as she was reduced to heartbeat. Her whole body, heartbeat.
When, finally, she relaxed into the bed, her abs and thighs burned, thoroughly exerted and satiated. Kisses were pressed up Waverly’s torso, and her body felt heavy, unresponsive to her commands to hold Nicole, bring her closer, breathe her in.
“Still nervous?” Nicole asked against one nipple before pulling it into her mouth and tracing her lips up Waverly’s chest and neck and chin, until dark eyes, at last, met Waverly’s own.
“No,” Waverly answered, though she wasn’t sure that would still be the truth once the afterglow faded.
“It’s just me, baby.” Waverly’s hand was guided onto Nicole’s collarbone, pressed into smooth, sweaty skin.
“I know. I guess I was just a little in my head.”
“And are you okay now?”
“Yea,” Waverly said, forcing a smile she didn’t completely feel anymore. “I’m all good.”