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"Zee? Are you gonna be ready sometime this century?"
"Nope."
Shane sighs, leaning his back against Zane's bedroom door and shoving his hands in the pockets of his green swim trunks. At this rate, they're never going to make it to the beach.
What is she doing?
He can't figure out what could be taking her so long. Her bag is packed and waiting on the couch, overflowing with all the items for a day in the sun: high SPF sunscreen for her tattoos; hair ties; a big floppy black sun hat that Mochi has gnawed on at some point; three rolled up beach towels in black, red, and an inexplicable lime green; three trashy romance novels in paperback; the only pair of sandals that Zane owns, and a giant insulated water bottle.
Everything is ready to go, except Zane herself...which isn't like her at all.
"Zee, don't tell me you're primping in the mirror or something," Shane teases, just to see if she'll clue him in.
"Very funny." There is a shuffling sound; Zane huffs, then swears.
"Zee?" He frowns, standing up straight and listening a little more closely. "Is everything all right?"
"Oh, yeah, peachy."
Except that she snorts after she speaks, and she sounds out of breath.
"You sure?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah, I'm sure," Zane replies.
She is definitely out of breath.
"Sorry," she continues at length. "It's, uh...it's just, Emily and I went shopping awhile back and she convinced me to buy this new swimsuit without...where the fuck does this go?...without trying it on, and uh...I'm...having a hard time figuring out...oh."
"Oh?" Shane echoes, bewildered.
"Oh! I, uh...this...I'm just...I'm just gonna change," she says, and gives a high, nervous laugh. "I should always try stuff on, this is, uh...way too sm — MOCHI!"
An ear-splitting yowl rings through the air, followed by the whump-scratch! of Mochi colliding with the door and trying to claw his way out. There is a solid thwack and the tinkle of breaking glass. Zane swears, and then there is another whump, the sound of books falling, and more swearing, this time in a voice that is high and tight with pain and surprise.
"Zane?!"
Shane grabs the doorknob. He doesn't expect it to open, but it does, turning easily in his hand. He half-stumbles into Zane's bedroom and Mochi takes off past him like a shot, hissing in fury.
"Damn cat," he mutters, hurrying across the room toward the corner where Zane sprawls on the floor in front of a mostly-empty bookshelf, surrounded by its former contents and the thick black coil of her braid. There is a red mark above one of her eyes, as if the corner of a hardback hit her on the way down.
"Zee?! What happened?! Are you...?"
His voice trails off. Heat creeps up from his chest to his neck and finally to his face, setting his cheeks aflame beneath the bluish shadow of his stubble.
Zane rubs her head absently, pulling herself to her feet via the bookshelf as she kicks the books themselves out of her way.
"That fucking hurt," she mumbles, and then she sees Shane and her freckled cheeks flush bright red.
They stare at one another, frozen, both blushing like idiotic teenagers, and Shane has no idea if he should look away, because he has no idea whether Zane is wearing lingerie or a bathing suit.
Either way, it's far more of her body than he'd been expecting to see this soon, and judging by the sensible black one-piece swimsuit laid across the bed and her brilliant red face, far more than she was anticipating showing him.
The swimsuit she is wearing is also a black one piece, but only in the sense that the bottom connects to the top. The thing is so strappy that it almost seems to be made of crisscrossed belts, and it leaves little to the imagination - particularly up top, which must be the reason she'd said something about it being too small.
The suit pushes her breasts up and together, until they're spilling over the cups and straining the pointless strap across the top of them. More straps crisscross her torso, creating sharp geometric shapes that would leave bizarre tan lines. They cross her hips in two parallel lines, with one between her legs that resembles a censored bar made of fabric.
Yoba, she might as well be naked.
His mind runs away with him for a moment, lingering on that idea, that she might as well be naked, because all it would take is hooking a finger into one of those ridiculous, strategic straps and pulling it to the side, and that would be better than naked, wouldn't it, half-clothed was always better than naked -
Alarmed, Shane shoves his fists into his pockets to disguise anything untoward that might be going on below the belt. He drops his gaze, face burning.
"Sorry!" He stares down at his feet, eyes wide, wanting to look up again, but far too embarrassed to do so. "Sorry, I heard - the falling, I mean, and I thought you were...I'll just...I'll go wait in the..."
"No, don't - I mean, it's okay," Zane says, a little too quickly. "You don't have to, uh...I mean, it's not like I'm naked or anything..."
Better than naked -
In his head, Shane tells himself to shut up.
"...and honestly, this is embarrassing, but I think I need your help."
Shane glances up again, making it a point to fix his eyes on hers. "Wait, what?"
Zane covers her face with her hands and sighs.
"I don't know how to get out of this goddamn thing," she says in a small, frustrated voice. "I don't even know how I got into it!"
Shane's smart mouth runs ahead of his (admittedly distracted) brain.
"I dunno how you're staying in it."
Zane lets out a high, embarrassed whine. "Shut up!"
"Sorry! Sorry, sorry, that was, uh...yeah. Sorry."
Zane huffs, tossing her too-long bangs out of her face and folding her arms beneath the swell of her breasts. Shane stares at her hairline.
"I'd be more inclined to laugh at myself if I wasn't so uncomfortable," she mumbles. "Not, like, because of you, just...literally. It's too goddamn tight up here, but I can't figure out how it's meant to come off."
"Lemme see," Shane says, "Turn around?"
Zane turns, gathering her long braid over one shoulder. Shane lets his gaze drop to the curve of her ass for only a moment before he forces himself to focus, examining the strappy swimsuit for some clue how she might remove it, but there seems to be no tie, hook, or clasp of any sort.
"Jeez, did you just...stretch it on?" He asks. "I'm not seeing anything, and the way it goes over your shoulders..."
"Yeah, it's supposed to be stretchy. I knew I shouldn't have contorted myself to get into this thing," Zane sighs. "That's what I get for trying to look sexy for once in my life."
"Once in your...?" Shane's laughter is abrupt, bewildered. "Zee, you're always sexy as hell."
"Flattery will get you everywhere," she teases, forcing her fingers under the straps that bite into the soft skin across her upper chest. "Honestly, I had this planned out so much better in my head."
"What d'you mean planned out?" Shane asks, once again gluing his eyes to her face as she turns back around.
"Well, my plan was to put on the weird sexy strappy swimsuit, feel good about myself, and bask in you spending the whole day with your jaw on the floor." She laughs, her mouth curled into a little self-deprecating sneer. "I've turned into a cartoon character in my old age, nothing but tank tops and jeans...I guess I wanted to be less boring for you, but now I kinda just look like somebody wound me up in electrical tape."
Shane stares at her, incredulous. "You're kidding, right?"
Zane blinks at him. "N-no...?"
He reaches out and pulls her a little closer, gazing into her eyes. He rests his hands on her hips and hooks his thumbs into the straps there.
"Zee," he says, with an abundance of faux gravity, "Do you have any idea how difficult it is to keep my eyes up here while you're wearing that?"
She giggles, covering her mouth. "Shane, be serious."
"You think I'm kidding?" He grins at her. "The only reason I'm not tripping over my tongue right now is 'cause I can tell you're uncomfortable. I don't wanna make it worse by ogling you like some kinda creep."
"Shane, I look ridiculous!"
"The swimsuit itself is ridiculous, sure," Shane says, "You in the swimsuit is somethin' else entirely."
Zane snorts laughter, relaxing a little. "You know what's really something else? My goddamn cup size. Because this is supposed to be a double D, which means I need an E."
Shane grabs her a little closer, almost out of reflex. "Mmmmmmnot helping, Zee," he growls.
She cocks an eyebrow, gazing up at him through thick black lashes. "And here I was thinking you were an ass man."
"I am an everything man," he clarifies. "It's not my fault that I saw you in the world's skimpiest one-piece swimsuit before I ever even saw you in your underwear."
"You saw me in my underwear after that thing with the wizard..."
"Doesn't count," he answers. "I was more worried about you setting the house on fire because of a Vicodin hangover. Besides, I was looking at your tattoos more than anything else."
"They are kinda distracting, I guess," she murmurs. "Either way, you have been a perfect gentleman. I'm impressed."
"You told me you didn't wanna rush, so I'm not rushing." He shrugs. "I wouldn't call that impressive."
"Shane?"
"Mm?"
"Kiss me?"
Shane laughs. He leans down and kisses her forehead. "Not sure that's, uh...not sure that's the best idea, Zee."
"Mmm. And why not?" She nuzzles beneath his chin, her lips grazing his throat, and Shane's grip on her hips grows tighter.
"Because we've got somewhere to be here soon," he murmurs, "And if you keep going like this, I, uh...I might not be in any shape to go out in public, if that makes sense..."
"Makes plenty of sense," Zane replies, and continues kissing her way along his jawline. "But I think I can take care of that."
"Z-Zee...?"
Her teeth graze his earlobe and Shane shivers; Zane dissolves into a fit of giggling, still clutching his shoulders.
"But first I need you to help me get out of this thing," she says, "Because it's hurting a little."
Shane laughs again. "Yeah, okay. You want me to just cut it off...?"
"Maybe?" Zane takes a step back, pulling at the strap across her chest with a frown. "I might have an idea...will you grab the scissors out of the bathroom drawer? They're in one of the top ones...I think the one closest to the door."
Shane kisses her forehead once more and heads into the bathroom, pushing the door almost-closed in order to open the right drawer. After rummaging around for a few seconds, it's clear that the scissors are in another drawer; he starts to shut it, but pauses, reaching his fingers all the way to the back of the drawer and dragging everything forward, just in case.
What he pulls to the front isn't a pair of scissors; it's a handful of ponytail holders and bobby pins, as well as a round plastic case that Shane recognizes as a pack of birth control pills. Emily has the same one.
Shane stares down at the case; his heart beats a little too fast. Zane had told him early on that she couldn't take birth control pills; she'd told him she'd suffered mental and emotional side effects the last time she tried, and that they'd made her migraines much worse.
The pack in the drawer looks almost new.
Shane stops himself short just as he reaches for the plastic case, realizing that he's about to open it, that he's about to look and see whether she's been taking them.
Instead he slides it to the back where it had come from and closes the drawer, doing his best to push the discovery out of his mind. He'll ask her about it later.
He finds a pair of scissors in the opposite drawer and grabs them, hurrying back into the bedroom.
"Found 'em," he says, hoping his voice sounds natural as he hands them to her.
Zane takes the scissors and thanks him, sounding a little distracted as she turns her back.
Snip. Snip.
A strip of black fabric falls to her feet. Zane takes a breath and shakes her head.
Snip. Snip. Snip.
More fabric drifts to the floor. Zane takes another deep breath, then another.
"I think I might be able to fix this thing," she muses, "Later, anyway. How does this look?"
She turns around. Shane blinks, heat rising into his face.
The two tightest straps that had bisected her upper chest are gone, leaving even less to the imagination than before.
"Um." Shane swallows, shoving his fists into his pockets again. "I, uh...it looks...um...d-damn."
She grins at him. "I'll take that as you'd rather me not wear it in public."
"N-no!" Shane starts forward, taken aback. "No, I wouldn't - I mean, if you want..."
"Shane. Relax." Zane smirks. "I am messing with you. I don't want anyone else to see me in this. I'll sew in a mesh panel up here or something to make it presentable."
Shane tries not to make his sigh of relief audible.
"Now..." Zane steps close to him again, her breasts soft against his chest. "Why don't you help me get out of this thing? Just cut the strap behind my neck, and the one under my shoulder blades. I can sew in some hook and eye closures later."
She puts the scissors in his hand and turns around, pulling her braid over one shoulder.
"Y-you sure...?" Shane slides his fingers underneath the strap digging into the back of her neck, his entire body thrilling at the feel of her skin against his.
"I'm sure," she murmurs, shivering a little as her tattooed skin crawls over in gooseflesh. "Take it off me, Shane."
He takes the scissors and slips them underneath the topmost strap, holding it as far away from her skin as he can to minimize the risk of hurting her; he cuts, then does the same with the second strap, the one that had been digging into her ribcage. As soon as the tension is released, the rest of the suit slips, loosening its hold on her and revealing stark red pressure marks embedded in her skin.
"Damn, Zee." Shane tosses the scissors onto the bedside table, taken aback by the marks. "This looks painful."
He rubs his hands over the marks on her back and Zane makes a soft, almost purring sound of pleasure.
"A little bit, I guess," she mumbles. "My bra leaves marks kinda like this. Just not as bad. Could you get the ones around my ribs...?"
"Yeah, sure." He drops his hands, massaging the marks without thinking. "Are you serious, though? You just walk around with your underwear digging into you all day...?"
"Kinda." Zane sighs, leaning back into his touch. "It's one drawback to having big boobs—hard to find comfy bras."
"Damn. That almost doesn't seem worth it," Shane muses, rubbing his thumbs hard along either side of her spine before sliding the heels of his hands forward along her ribs.
"Sometimes it isn't. But I like them, for the most part." Zane twitches her shoulders and the swimsuit slips away from her chest, falling to her waist.
Shane's heart skips a beat; he hesitates, freezing with his hands resting near her ribs, but Zane covers his hands with hers.
"You don't have to stop," she says softly, pressing her body back against his as she urges his hands forward.
"I don't have to or you don't want me to?" Shane asks; his voice is far more rough than he had expected.
Zane tilts her head back, resting it on his shoulder as she turns to press a light kiss along his jaw.
"I don't want you to," she murmurs, and pulls his hands to the sides of her breasts.
Shane sucks in his breath; he's so hard that there's no way Zane can't feel it. As her hands fall away from his, she reaches behind herself, clutching the sides of his t-shirt and tugging him closer.
Shane sucks in his breath, rocking against her for a moment before getting ahold of himself. Everything in him is screaming at him to grab her and pull her closer, but he forces himself to take care, to take his time.
Hands shaking, he peeks over her shoulder and traces the outline of her winding floral tattoos with his fingertips, following the branches as they creep up from her ribs and up along the rising curve of her breasts. He grazes his thumbs over her nipples, teasing the black metal bars with a faint smile.
"Why am I not surprised?" he mumbles, turning his head to kiss her temple.
"Oh, come on." Zane laughs breathlessly. "I've all but told you a dozen times."
"Yeah, yeah." He moves his hands up to the red marks across the tops of her breasts. "Damn, Zee...that thing must have really been hurting you."
"It didn't feel great," she replies. "This though...mmm...I could get used to..."
"Oh?" He hides his smile in her hair for a moment before pressing his lips to her ear. "Then I'll keep going."
Zane shivers, clutching his t-shirt even tighter, pulling him against the curve of her ass with a little more insistence.
"Y-yeah," she breathes. "Please."
Shane tries to bite back a low sound of pleasure and fails; he squeezes one breast almost out of reflex, dropping the other and wrapping that arm around her waist as he sinks onto the edge of the bed, pulling her down into his lap.
Zane sucks in her breath, exhaling into a shaky moan. "Sh-Shane...!"
"Zee, uh...ah...remember what I said about maybe not bein' in any shape to go out...?"
"Mmhm." She presses against him, shaking as his thumb grazes over her pierced nipple.
"Well, I'm not in any shape to go out." He laughs roughly, rocking against the heat of her as if to emphasize his point. "Not that I'm, uh...expecting anything, but uh...if we're gonna make an appearance, I'm gonna, um...need a minute."
"Yeah, I...I know." Zane trembles in his arms, grinding into his lap; Shane clutches her closer, swearing under his breath and muffling himself against her bare shoulder.
"I need you to know that I want to," she whispers, her thighs flexing, her knees drawing inward. "I want to but I..."
"Zee. Hush." He eases his hold on her, softening his grip and his voice both. "You don't have to explain it to me, okay?"
"I know, I just...want you to know that it's not because I don't want to. Does that make sense?"
''Course. And it's, uh...nice to hear. Not gonna lie." He grins, planting a rough kiss to her shoulder. "C'mon, Zee. You get changed, I'll go jump in a cold shower, okay?"
"Ah...about that." Zane slides off his lap, turning to face him with a bright, hectic blush in her pale cheeks. "I said I'd fix it."
"Zee, you don't..."
She leans in and kisses him before he can finish, and everything he had meant to say evaporates from his mind. He slips a hand behind her neck and kisses her back, moaning against her mouth as she snatches at the lace-up fly of his swim trunks and wraps her hand around his cock.
"Fuck, Shane." She grins against his lips, running a loose fist over his length. "Impressive."
"Uh huh, now you're just playing with my ego," he answers, breathless. "Zee, I mean it, you don't..."
"I want to."
She kisses him again, brushing her thumb beneath the leaking head of his cock, and Shane clutches her hair down to the roots before he can stop himself, until her sharp, surprised cry makes him recoil.
"Shit, sorry!" He cradles her face in his hands. "You okay? Zee? I'm so sorry, I didn't...Zee?"
She sinks to her knees as he speaks, staring up at him with hazy, heated eyes.
A chill runs up his spine, and a moment later the wet heat of her mouth surrounds his cock.
Shane groans, grabbing the duvet with one hand and as he tangles the other back into the hair at the nape of her neck.
"Zane..."
He watches in dumb, heated fascination as she takes more and more of his length into her mouth with every downward stroke, her lips following the grip of her fist.
"Z-Zane...fuck..."
She glances up at him, and the sight is almost enough to be his undoing. He swears under his breath, rocking his hips up and clutching her hair tighter out of sheer reflex.
Zane's eyes widen in surprise; she gags for a moment, but before Shane can even think to apologize, the sound has dissolved into a low, shaky moan that vibrates around his cock.
With gooseflesh crawling over her skin, Zane clutches at his hips and takes him deeper into her mouth, moving her head up and down in quick, fluid motions until her nose brushes his skin.
She holds him there, and Shane trembles, the pressure in his groin rising as her throat works around his cock.
"F-fuck...Zane…"
When her eyes water, Shane pulls out, terrified that she's hurting herself for his benefit; it doesn't help that she gags and gasps for air the moment her mouth is free.
"Zee, you okay?" He takes her face in his hands again, wiping tears from under her eyes with his thumbs.
"Mmhm." She turns her head and kisses his palm, moving her slick lips to the base of his fingers. "I'll let you know if I'm not, Shane. Promise."
"You...sure…?"
Shane swallows with an effort; his eyes are locked with Zane's, and as he speaks she slips her tongue between his fingers.
"I am." She tilts her head at him, drawing his fingers into her mouth, as if waiting for him to tell her how to proceed.
"Uh, s-sorry about your...your hair." Shane can't take his eyes off her mouth, but it seems important to apologize, to let her know he isn't causing her pain on purpose. "I keep...um. I keep pulling it…"
Zane smiles around his fingers before pulling back slowly, pressing her lips against his fingertips.
"I like it," she murmurs, "When you pull my hair, I mean."
"You...do...?"
"Mhm." She shifts forward, slipping further between his knees until her breasts press against his cock. "I like it very much, actually."
"That's, uh...g-good to know." Shane sucks in his breath, rocking his hips, pushing against her soft skin; he slides his hand behind her neck again, tangling his fingers into her hair, and Zane hums appreciatively, leaning in and closing her mouth over the head of his cock.
"F-fuck, Zane..." He thrusts into her mouth, slow, tentative; Zane moans around him and leans forward, cupping her breasts in both hands and pushing them up, trapping the length of his cock between them.
Shane swears again; his vocabulary seems to have devolved to nothing but swearing and Zane's name. He clutches her hair a little more tightly, bucking his hips up; his cock glides between her breasts and deeper into her mouth before he pulls back again with a shaky laugh.
"Yeah, c-can't do that right now," he says, "Don't...don't trust myself."
Zane glances up at him for a moment and winks. The next thing Shane knows, she's holding him in her mouth again, rubbing her breasts up and down his length.
Shane sucks in his breath, legs shaking as the pressure in his groin intensifies. The sight is obscene; he'd never entertained this scenario even in his dreams, and he grabs her hair tighter still, marveling at her response. Every time he pulls at her hair she moans, shuddering as she pushes her breasts even tighter together, sucks him into her mouth even harder. Before long Zane is a perfect, sloppy mess, her breasts and his cock covered in a mix of saliva and pre-cum, her cheeks flushed, her eyes half-lidded and dazed with heat.
Shane groans, his thighs clenching tight as the heavy pressure in his groin deepens to a throb. He's given up on the idea that he can hurt her by pulling her hair, and he grabs it tight now, using it to tilt her head back a little so she can look up into his face.
Of course, that's a double-edged sword; for a moment he can't even remember what he was going to say, too absorbed in the sight of his cock gliding between her slick breasts and into her open mouth.
"Zane, goddamn," he breathes, as another, more insistent throb seizes him. "If you don't want m-me to, uh..make a bigger mess, y-you should...f-fuck...you should st-stop..."
Zane's only response is another wink.
Seconds later, Shane is clutching her hair tighter than he has yet, holding her in place and gasping her name as he thrusts hard into the slick warmth between her breasts. He comes harder than he has since he can remember, spilling into her mouth; she swallows eagerly until the need to breathe catches up with her, and she swears under her breath as the last of it paints her face and breasts, her chest heaving, her shoulders trembling.
For a moment Shane can only stare at her, too dazed by his orgasm and the obscene sight of her to do more than blush.
After a moment, Zane's red, slick lips curl into a smirk and she sits back on her heels, crossing her arms beneath her breasts to hold them up.
"Sooo...did I fix it?" She asks.
Shane snorts laughter, scrubbing a shaking palm over his face as he sits up.
"Something like that," he answers breathlessly, lacing his trunks up again. "Although I'm not sure if my knees are gonna hold me up now."
"Then I'll let you recover." Zane's grin is wicked as she gets to her feet. "I'll go clean up and get changed into my other swimsuit."
"That's...probably a good idea," Shane says, his eyes wandering down to the stark, narrow stripe of black, clinging fabric between her legs. "I'll, uh...pick up your books for you…"
Zane turns a deeper shade of pink as she realizes where Shane is staring, but she makes no move to cover herself or chastise him; she only takes a step back.
"Back in a few," she murmurs, and turns away, grabbing her regular swimsuit off the bed before disappearing into the bathroom.
Shane lays back on her bed as the door closes, scrubbing his hands over his eternal five o'clock shadow, doing his best to put that little censor-bar stripe out of his head.
Did she not want him to…?
Nope. Stop it, brain.
But what if she just…?
She did what she felt comfortable doing and that's all that matters, he tells himself, getting to his feet and going to pick up the scattered contents of her bookshelf. She'll talk to me about the rest when she's ready.