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The moment between sleeping and waking was a drawn-out tenuous thing, a warm darkness with an absence of true consciousness. Scar floated in that darkness, more sensation than solid form, with only the faintest awareness of her physical body. She could sense the twitch of her eyelids and her deep even breathing, but that was it; she couldn't move her limbs, couldn't feel the outlines of her body. She was still asleep, and knew she was still asleep, but wasn't able to move or bring herself back to complete wakefulness.
It was in this strange, halfway place of consciousness that Scar, very faintly, became aware of a familiar heat unfurling throughout her body, hot and syrupy. Oh, Scar thought distantly, it was going to be that kind of a night. But she wasn't a stranger to wet dreams, so she let herself press closer into that feeling, sinking into it as pleasure sparked dully throughout her body. She wished she had something between her legs to grind reflexively up against.
But she couldn't stay in this state of partial sleep forever; she had to wake up eventually.
Lucidity came back to her as a blurred picture, leaving her to bring it slowly into focus. She acquired details of her surroundings in pieces—her room was still nighttime-dark, the furniture and decoration shadowed silhouettes of their daytime selves. She was so, so warm; there was a solid heat at her back, arms wrapped loosely around her torso, a wing draped overtop her like another blanket. Feathers brushed softly against the bare skin of her shoulders and chest, soft as a barely-heard whisper. There was a mouth at her neck, a hand splayed just beneath her rib cage—fingers buried inside her, slowly rubbing back and forth, and a palm pressing against her clit.
Scar drew in a sharp breath, tensing involuntarily in Grian's arms—it had to have been Grian behind her, who else could it be? At her reaction, Grian's movements stilled, leaving Scar with only the sensation of being filled, her hand heavy between Scar's legs.
"Hey, you're awake," Grian said casually, as if she wasn't currently knuckles-deep in Scar right at that moment. Scar had several responses at the ready ranging from Grian, what the fuck? to oh god—more, please, more, but when she opened her mouth, the only thing that came out was a ragged whine. She could feel the shape of Grian's answering grin against the side of her neck, sharp and wicked.
Distantly, beneath the incredibly distracting sensation of Grian's fingers moving inside her, Scar was a hundred percent certain that Grian had not been in her bed when she'd gone to sleep last night. She knew this because she distinctly remembered patting herself on the back for going to bed early, wrapping the grey sheets around herself as the setting sun dyed the sky in burning shades of pink and red. There had been no Grian in her bed, no sign of her friend anywhere nearby. Meaning she was, understandably, a little surprised—and by "a little surprised" really, she meant fucking shocked—at the fact of Grian currently pressed flat against her back, curled around her, trailing kisses down her neck.
"Grian, you . . . what are y—ah!" Heat pulsed through Scar's body as Grian brushed over Scar's clit with her thumb, effectively scattering her thoughts like wind through a pile of leaves. The heavy fog of unconsciousness still clung to the edges of Scar's mind, her brain lagging as it struggled to process Grian's presence. But her body was perfectly capable of getting up to speed, pressing eagerly into Grian's touches without conscious input, her breathing already uneven and sweat prickling her skin.
Dragging her thoughts back into a somewhat more coherent state, Scar managed to get out, "What're you doing here?" Her voice was hoarse from both sleep and arousal.
"Oh, I was just in the area," Grian responded. "Thought I'd drop by."
"Bullshit," Scar said immediately, and Grian let out a startled laugh. It was—Scar flicked a quick glance over to the open window—still the middle of the night. The sky was dark, moonlight coming in through the windows to cast ghostly patches of pale light along the walls and floor. It made no sense for Grian to be out and about at this time, when it was cold and dark with monsters prowling around everywhere. Scar told Grian as much, or as best she could around the distraction of Grian's hands on her body.
"Aw, I thought you'd be happy to see me." Grian slipped her fingers out of Scar, who whimpered at the loss, clenching down around nothing. She pulled her hand out of Scar's underwear, but didn't go far, instead moving to trace wet circles along the inside of Scar's thighs.
"Well, I—of course I am, I mean—" Scar shifted her hips, trying to get Grian's fingers higher to where she ached to be touched, but Grian wasn't having it. Scar bit back a frustrated noise, but continued talking; maybe it would convince Grian to touch her again. "It's always amazing to be treated to your wonderful company, I'm just—" Partway through Scar's sentence, Grian brushed her knuckles against the underside of Scar's tits, causing another flare of helpless arousal in Scar's core. The touch was light enough to be considered an accident, but Scar knew that when Grian got like this, nothing she did was ever by accident.
". . . surprised," Scar finished breathlessly.
"More than surprised, huh, Scar?" Grian said, pressing her fingers against the front of Scar's underwear in emphasis, and Scar let out a low moan, her hips twitching forward into the touch. Grian added, "Seems to me like you're more . . . excited than surprised."
It felt like Scar was still asleep—her surroundings were soft and dark, near-overwhelmingly warm from the sheets and blankets and wing wrapped around her. Her mind was clouded with a hazy fog that dampened and slowed her thoughts, leaving her muddled and almost confused. Grian's presence in her bed felt unreal, dreamlike, as if she was a figment of Scar's imagination that would vanish if Scar looked too hard at her, as if she had only appeared through the force of Scar's desire.
Fingers rubbed slow circles against her clit, and Scar trembled at the not-enough friction through the material of her underwear, knotting her fingers in the sheets. Grian smoothed her other hand briefly across Scar's stomach, dragging her mouth along the line of Scar's shoulder, then said, "I was flying past your base just now, and notic—bleaugh, S—your hair!"
The hand at Scar's torso abruptly disappeared as Grian retracted her arm to claw the long strands of Scar's hair out of her mouth. Scar couldn't help but sputter out a laugh, ducking her head and pressing her palm to her mouth in an effort to stifle it.
"Oh my g—I am going to shave you bald in your sleep, man," Grian said, petulant and cranky, which only made Scar laugh more. "Right, you—yeah, just keep laughing, why don't you." She nipped at Scar's neck, which tickled more than it hurt, then pulled back again so that she could wrangle Scar's hair away from her face, nails scratching briefly across Scar's scalp.
"Okay, okay, sorry," Scar said, grinning even though Grian couldn't see her, "sorry; I'm sorry. I'll be good now, I promise." Never mind the fact that it was entirely Grian who was the root of the problem, and not Scar.
Grian huffed, but slipped her arms back around Scar, this time splaying one hand right at the top of Scar's sternum, her thumb resting against Scar's collarbone. "What I was going to say was that I noticed you finally finished your zoo entrance."
"Oh yeah, I did! Thanks for noticing." There was still a lot that needed to be done: landscaping so the massive gate didn't look like it'd been dropped randomly out of the sky, and a path leading up to the entrance, but Scar was still quite proud of what she'd done so far. She just wasn't sure why Grian was bringing that up instead of putting her fingers back inside Scar.
"I couldn't believe you'd actually managed to get something done for once." While she was talking, Grian slid her fingers teasingly along the waistband of Scar's boxers. Scar held her breath in anticipation for those fingers to dip beneath fabric, but Grian moved her hand away. "Figured I ought to give you something nice for getting your zoo gate built."
Scar opened her mouth to argue that Grian wasn't giving her something nice, was actually giving her nothing right now, and if things continued like this, she was going to shove Grian away and finish herself off. But then Grian slid her hand down Scar's chest, a firm drag that ended with her cupping one of Scar's tits, fingers digging in just tight enough to make Scar gasp.
"Imagine my disappointment," Grian said, as she palmed Scar's breast, "when I came into your room and found you asleep already. So then I decided I'd wait until morning to get you off, got into bed, and snuggled up behind you.
"But you were sleeping shirtless, Scar, and I couldn't help but touch you. I didn't even have any ulterior motive to it, honestly, I just . . ." Grian sighed as if to emphasize the lack of control she had over her situation. "Well, when you looked like that—shirtless, wearing only a pair of boxers, basically naked—what was I supposed to do? You were practically begging for it."
Scar refused to feel bad about her choice of pajamas—or lack thereof. "Hey, in my defence, I wasn't expecting rapscallions—" the like you was not said but was heavily implied "—to waltz into my room in the middle of the night to . . . to accost me." Not that she minded being accosted. "You can't just insult a woman's choice of sleepwear like that, Grian, c'mon now."
She arched subtly into the hand still squeezing her breast, which earned her a brief kiss to the top of her shoulder blade, then pressed her thighs together in a futile attempt to relieve some of the ache pooling in her core. It didn't help, and she bit back a frustrated noise.
Grian giggled, and Scar didn't know if it was at her words or at her current keyed-up state. Knowing Grian, it was probably both. "You and your constant refusal to wear a proper shirt," Grian said, the smile audible in her words.
"Anyways." Grian kissed Scar's shoulder as if to bring her attention back to the topic at hand. "I barely needed to touch you; as soon as I got my arms around you, you started reacting." She trailed her fingers along the curve of Scar's breast, and the scrape of rough calluses over sensitive skin made Scar shiver. In full honesty, Scar was barely registering Grian's words. She was more focused on the slow-building need pooling in her stomach at Grian's actions, but the last thing she wanted was for Grian to stop talking.
"God, Scar, you should have heard the noise you made—so needy and desperate even though you weren't even awake or aware of what was happening to you. And on top of that, you didn't even try to escape or anything. You just pushed back into me, pressed further into my hands." As if to demonstrate her point, she touched the front of Scar's underwear again, and Scar's hips stuttered forward as she pressed the back of her hand to her mouth to muffle a whimper. Grian wasn't done yet. "And as if all that wasn't enough, then you said my name—moaned it, really—all sleepy and pleading."
Scar didn't remember anything of what had transpired before awaking, but what Grian was describing did sound like something she'd do. Of course her body would recognize Grian's touch even while unconscious; of course she'd instinctively react in any way that would get Grian to stay with her longer.
"And I couldn't just leave you like that—" Grian's voice was low and rough around the edges, a specific cadence that was just the slightest bit mean in the way Scar was so helplessly attracted to, the promise of thorns beneath the captivatingly red petals of roses in full bloom "—turned on and neglected; what kind of person would that make me? So I slid my hand in your underwear to . . . try take some of the edge off. And you were so wet already, like you'd been waiting the entire day for my fingers to be inside you. You've been wanting this for a while, haven't you?"
Yes. Scar had, in fact, been wanting this for a while, had brought this specific scenario up to Grian just a couple weeks ago.
"I want you to wake me up by fingering me," Scar had told Grian in the middle of a sunny afternoon, and her friend nearly fell off the fishing dock in response.
Grian had coughed, her face as red as her sweater and wings, and said, "Huh—sorry, what?"
"I mean," Scar said, winding a length of spare fishing line between her fingers, "it doesn't have to be fingering me. You could also fuck me awake, or eat me out while I'm still asleep, or—or anything you want. It's up to you."
"Not really the part I had a problem with," Grian mumbled, the statement said quietly enough that Scar figured she didn't need to address it.
"I just—I don't know, I think I want to, umm . . . " Scar trailed off, the thoughts in her head tumbling around without forming actual words that she could verbalize out loud to Grian. Did she want to wake up horny and immediately get taken care of? Did she just want Grian there with her in the morning, know that she wasn't alone? Was it some sort of thing where she wanted Grian to say she didn't have the self control to wake Scar up before starting to fuck her?
"Be jerked off," Scar settled on saying, "without needing to like, say what I want? Or not needing to make decisions—dude, you know how much I hate making decisions—and I think not having a say in things will be . . ." She trailed off, not quite sure where to proceed from there to persuade Grian into saying yes.
"Scar, it's okay, you don't need to—" The tip of Grian's rod abruptly twitched downwards, and she yanked it up to set the hook, reeling her catch in. At seeing that it was merely another cod, she shook her head and tossed the fish over her shoulder. But she didn't recast her line, just set her rod to the side so she could peer sidelong at Scar. "You don't have to explain yourself; I'm fully willing to do . . . that—" she made a gesture that Scar decided to interpret as fuck you awake while she spoke "—if you want me to. I—are you sure you want me to do this? Not as—not in a judging way or anything," she added hurriedly. "Just, like, in a double-checking kind of way; that you're sure."
"Oh, I'm so sure. I," said Scar, pressing a hand to her chest to underline her certainty, "have never been more sure in my life. And besides, I can always just tell you to stop if I don't like what you're doing."
"Okay." Deeming the conversation finished, Grian turned away from Scar and picked her rod back up. A hard flick of the rod made the bobber arc out over the water, and both of them tracked the movement of the red and white sphere as it sailed through the air, until it landed on the surface of the ocean with a gentle splash.
Idly, Scar tied knots in the fishing line as Grian continued to stare out at the bobber rocking gently back and forth, watched as Grian chewed on her lower lip in concentration. A breeze coming in from the ocean ruffled the ends of Grian's short honey-brown hair, ruffled the vibrant feathers along the top of her wings. She was squinting slightly against the sun shining directly into her eyes. Scar mulled over the fact that maybe they weren't very smart for choosing to sit on the side of the dock that was facing the sun.
After a few more minutes of companionable silence, Grian had turned back toward Scar and asked, "So is there a specific time you want me to do this?"
"I'm fine whenever," Scar said with a shrug, unable to restrain her excited grin. "Surprise me," she'd added, and was rewarded by a slow, hungry gleam flickering to life in Grian's obsidian-black eyes.
So Scar had waited. Sleepless nights passed one after the other, anticipation building and building like the slow pour of thick cake batter into a metal baking pan. Every night, Scar would fall asleep, expecting to see a familiar person the next time she opened her eyes. And every morning, she would wake, alone in her bed, with a sense of . . . not disappointment, necessarily, but something similar, something that made her frown and sigh and immediately go to seek out Grian. She never brought it up, didn't want to pressure Grian or spoil the surprise, but it was always there, sitting impatiently in some far-back corner of her mind.
And tonight, it had finally happened. She'd woken up to Grian in her bed, surrounding her completely with feathers soft against her bare skin, a dream manifested into reality. Scar was so delighted that she couldn't stop smiling, a near-giddy happiness mixing with the needy anticipation pooled hot and heavy in her core.
The smell of the night air still clung to Grian's clothes and wings, a chilly, ozone scent that seeped into the fabric of Scar's sheets. Scar had half a thought about turning around and burying her face in the curve where Grian's neck met her shoulder, of licking the taste of the night off her skin, but the thought was swiftly banished as Grian's fingers traced a path downward beneath Scar's navel, sliding her hand underneath fabric to where Scar desperately needed to be touched. She bypassed Scar's clit entirely, much to Scar's consternation, instead giving immediate attention to Scar's entrance.
"Oh, Scar," Grian breathed, dragging her fingertips through the slick mess between Scar's legs. "You're absolutely soaked."
Scar let out a faint moan of agreement, rocking forward to meet Grian's hand, silently urging Grian to keep going. And, for once in her life, Grian obliged her. She slid a finger inside Scar, and Scar could have cried at how good it felt. But then Grian stopped when only half her finger was inside, started rubbing against Scar's inner walls just barely down from where the sensation would shift from good to fucking fantastic.
"More," Scar demanded, shifting impatiently, trying to get Grian's finger deeper inside. When Grian didn't acquiesce, Scar bent her knee, lifted her leg slightly to give Grian better access, and Grian's breathing hitched, the movement of her hands faltering, a momentary lapse in her facade of unaffected composure. Oh, there was some kind of reaction that Scar had been waiting for.
Grian slotted her knee between Scar's thighs to keep them apart, the fabric of her jeans rough against Scar's skin, then added a second finger. They slid in without resistance with a wet, filthy noise that made Scar's face heat, had her biting back a whine.
Voice just the smallest bit rougher, Grian said, "God, it always drive me crazy how you always wear clothes that put your chest on display." In emphasis, she slid her hand between Scar's breasts, where her skin was hot and sweat-sticky, ending with her palm cupping the underside of Scar's tit.
Scar laughed, not even bothering to try cover up how breathless the noise was. "Well, when you've been gifted with a pair of amazin' boobs like these, it'd be a crime to cover them up." Grian let out a huff of amusement, and Scar could feel her friend shaking her head behind her. Scar felt inclined to add, "Come on, Grian, it would be a shame to deprive the world of such a wonderful sight."
It was true that Scar thought her chest was one of her best assets—second only to her well-defined muscles—true that she more often than not would wear low-cut tops that displayed a fair amount of cleavage, but could she be blamed for doing so when Grian always gave her such priceless reactions? Grian could be in the middle of a build, or talking to one of their other friends, and then she'd spot Scar out of the corner of her eye. Scar would be able to watch in real time as Grian's train of thought screeched to a complete stop, her gaze dropping to Scar's chest, her mouth falling open slightly. The sight of Grian short-circuiting over Scar never got old.
Once, Scar had worn her khaki zookeeper shirt unbuttoned with no bra underneath, then walked casually into Grian's direct field of view. Grian had grabbed her wrist, practically dragged Scar up to her blue mountain-side house to shove her down into rumpled sheets, her black eyes molten. Grian had made Scar come face-down on the mattress, three fingers buried in her cunt, fingers digging into her breast and a nail scraping over her nipple. Then, while Scar was still boneless and pliable from a good orgasm, Grian had flipped her over, straddled her chest, and jerked off directly all over Scar's tits. Scar could still remember, in painfully sharp clarity, the smug glint in Grian's eyes as she surveyed the mess she'd created, swiping a slick finger over Scar's sensitive, still-hard nipple.
And maybe Grian was thinking about that too, because she pinched Scar's nipple, then smoothed her thumb over it in a way that magnified the sensation instead of lessened it. Grian said, fondly, "You're ridiculous," punctuating the statement with a deliberate squeeze to Scar's tit, and Scar laughed again, the sound edged with a moan.
Feeling like she needed something to ground herself, Scar dropped her hand to Grian's forearm, gripping it tightly, digging her nails into the skin. Grian's arm was hot underneath her hand, firm muscle and short hair dusted over her skin that brushed against Scar's palm. It was almost unfair how good Grian was with her hands, her fingers long and dexterous, knowing exactly where to press in order to wind Scar up impossibly further. They slid deeper inside Scar, brushing past her sweet spot—and then nothing. Grian's hand between Scar's legs stilled completely.
"Grian," Scar complained, squeezing Grian's arm in protest.
"Yeah?" Grian's voice was light, unconcerned, the textbook definition of auditory innocence. Scar wasn't fooled. She knew how Grian liked edging her, keeping her in a state where she could see the impending drop-off of release but couldn't reach it. It didn't even occur to Scar that she could have snuck her hand underneath Grian's to rub her clit, given herself the stimulation she craved. But sleep was still airbrushed over the edges of her mind, keeping her in a semi-groggy state, her subconsciousness telling her to just keep taking what Grian was giving her—even though it wasn't enough.
"Come on, give me more," Scar urged, shifting to try grind against Grian's hand. "You can't leave me hanging like this." That was completely untrue; they both knew Grian could and would leave Scar hanging like this. Scar shifted to a different tactic.
"I was dreaming about you, before you woke me up," Scar said, lying blatantly through her teeth. "I . . . it was such a good dream too, one of the best I've had."
"Were you now?" Grian sounded amused, her smile pressed against the back of Scar's neck. She must have clued in on the fact that this was Scar's best attempt at playing her like a fiddle to get what she wanted. Scar wasn't deterred. Ever the charmer, she was much experienced in complimenting and flattering and cajoling others until they gave her what she wanted; it was basically instinct at this point. She'd learned what words to say, where to put pressure and how much, until a person's resolve eventually crumbled and they gave her the clothes off their back. Grian was no exception—and knew full well she was no exception.
"You're the only thing I ever dream of," Scar continued, laying it on thick, "the thought of you keeping me company during cold, long nights. Grian, it—" she shifted slightly, trying to fuck herself on Grian's fingers, but Grian's hand moved with her, denying her the stimulation she craved "—it warms my heart more than I can describe to see your beautiful face in my dreams."
"You sweet talker," Grian murmured affectionately. Her hand was still flattened against Scar's chest, idly massaging the flesh underneath, and Scar felt like her racing heart was trying to escape her rib cage to fit itself into Grian's palm.
Scar swallowed down a frustrated noise, and decided that she was so not above begging if it meant Grian would give her what she wanted. "Grian, I . . . keep touching me, please, I've never needed anything more in my entire life. Stop teasing, I can't handle any more. Please." Scar was aware she was getting a little noisier and needier—but she was tired of being kept in this state of unfulfilled want; she needed Grian to keep going like plants needed the sun, and she knew from previous experience that the more desperate and plaintive she acted, the better results she got.
And it seemed to work, because Grian curled her fingers to resume sliding them in and out of Scar. She immediately set a hard, fast pace without easing Scar into it, pressing directly against the spot that made Scar's thighs twitch together, made her whimper Grian's name, broken and pleading.
Light and barely-there as a secret, Grian brushed her mouth against Scar's cheekbone, and Scar turned her head slightly to try capture Grian's lips with hers. She wanted to drag her tongue along the inside of Grian's mouth, feel her melt against her lips, try elicit any other reactions from her—but Grian moved away, leaving her bereft and wanting. No, come back.
Her orgasm was quick to build, simmering embers coaxed into a hungry flame, until she was poised over the edge of climax and waiting urgently for Grian to tip her over into it. Her hips rolled forwards to meet Grian's thrusts, fingers tangled in the sheets. Grian continued murmuring encouragement against Scar's sweat-damp skin, scissoring her open on the next push in, and the stretch made the molten heat in Scar's core unfurl like the sparking trails of a firework, spreading throughout her until she felt it at the very edges of her body.
Reflexively, Scar's thighs squeezed together around Grian's leg, trying to urge Grian deeper and keep her there. She squirmed against the overwhelming sensation of Grian's clever fingers and sharp teeth and her voice, rough and sultry in a way that seemed to drag invisible nails down Scar's skin. She was so close, she just needed a little bit more—
Grian continued rubbing against Scar's inner walls, her other hand still fondling Scar's chest. "I wish I could've seen your face when you woke up, when you realized what was happening to you." On the next thrust in, she abruptly stopped moving, her fingers buried inside Scar's cunt as far as they could go, mercilessly ripping away the promise of her release.
"In fact," Grian said, while Scar thrashed in her arms, letting out a frustrated noise that was just shy of a scream, "I wish I could see what you look like right now. Flushed and desperate, dripping wet from how much you need me. Maybe I should put you in front of a mirror sometime so we can both see how you look when I fuck you."
And her words made Scar clench down around Grian's fingers, a broken whine escaping her mouth as the fantasy Grian had suggested bloomed to life in her mind, vibrant and detailed as an oil painting. Being put on display, sitting in front of a mirror with Grian directly behind her, arms wrapped around her and no space between their bodies, near-identical to how they presently were. Being able to catch and hold Grian's gaze in the mirror, see the wildfire hunger flicker in her dark eyes as they both watched her finger-fuck Scar—
At Scar's reaction, Grian said, "Yeah, you'd enjoy that, wouldn't you? Seeing how pretty you are when I've got you turned on out of your mind."
"I would," Scar gasped out, scratching desperately at Grian's forearm. "I would, I—oh god, Grian—I want—fuck!" Grian had just pulled her fingers out, thrust back in to deliberately press against the spot that made Scar's back arch and her vision momentarily white out with pleasure. "Mmnh—there, right there—you feel so good, keep going."
It was so much, yet still not enough, Grian's movements precise and experienced enough to hold Scar tantalizingly close to the edge without actually bringing her to completion. How she rolled Scar's nipple between her thumb and index finger; the way she prodded against Scar's inner walls; the drag of her tongue, hot and wet, along the slope of Scar's shoulder. She was relentless in her ministrations, taking her time to slowly deconstruct Scar, break her down piece by piece until Scar was left as only the sensation of desire, burning and all-consuming. And—underneath Grian's hands and mouth as they methodically and thoroughly unraveled her—Scar truly could not think of anywhere else she would want to be.
Grian continued talking, breathing the words directly against the shell of Scar's ear, making her shudder. "Do you want to know what I had planned for you when you were still sleeping?" She didn't wait for an answer before continuing: "I was going to finger you until you were nice and wet and warmed up, see how many times I could make you come before you finally woke up. And then I—god, then I was hoping that I'd have the time to get my cock and fuck you with it."
Scar's head dropped back, her mouth falling open in a silent moan at the thought of waking up with something hard and thick inside her. Grian had fucked Scar in the past, in bed with Scar on her hands and knees, fingers knotted so tight in the sheets that the fabric nearly ripped, Grian's teeth digging into Scar's shoulder and fingers digging into Scar's hip. But she'd never fucked Scar while she was still half-asleep, and Scar was struck by the realization of how badly she wanted it, for Grian to fill her completely like that when she was trapped in a state of partial awareness.
"You would've looked utterly stunning like that, Scar, waking up to the feeling of me inside you, taking me so well even when—even though—" And here Grian faltered, words failing her—was she just as consumed by the image she'd been describing as Scar was?—yet that brief hitch in her composure was just as absurdly attractive as everything else she'd been previously doing this night.
Grian recovered quickly, trying to hide her stumble by pressing a biting kiss to the side of Scar's throat and adding, "I'll admit I'm a little disappointed we couldn't do that today; I guess we'll need to do that next time."
She moved her hand down from Scar's chest, and Scar tried to scrape her thoughts together enough to protest, but then Grian flattened her hand against Scar's abdomen, right under her navel, and pushed, right as she thrust her fingers deeper. Scar cried out at the pleasure that shot through her body from the double opposing pressure, clamping her thighs tighter around Grian's leg.
"Please," she begged, nails scrabbling desperately at Grian's forearm, "Grian, I—I'm so close, I need to come, I—" The rest of her sentence was cut off by a moan as Grian crooked her fingers, pressed against the sensitive spot inside her.
"Okay." Grian pressed an open-mouth kiss to Scar's jaw, her own breathing jagged and unsteady; with a jolt, Scar realized Grian must have been at the end of her rope as well. "I'll let you come now, Scar, you've earned it."
She shifted the hand she had between Scar's legs, and Scar whimpered at the stretch from that slight movement. But then the fingers of Grian's other hand brushed against her clit, and she nearly sobbed at the sensation, her grip on the sheets tightening as she tried to rock forward into the touch.
Grian swiped her fingers briefly through the slick mess between Scar's legs, stroked her clit once—and suddenly stopped. "So," she started, and Scar could have genuinely killed her, "long night, huh? Wanna talk about it?"
"Grian!" Scar was so fucking turned on that even the light brush of feathers against her skin was making her head spin with arousal, her mind empty of all thoughts except ones of her imminent orgasm, and if Grian didn't finish her off right this instant, she was going to stab Grian and then jerk off beside her dying corpse.
"All right, all right, calm down; I'm just teasing you." Grian was laughing against Scar's shoulder, but even the small movements of her amusement were enough to generate friction against Scar's oversensitive cunt, making her whine in frustration, squirming impatiently in Grian's arms.
Finally, finally, Grian started getting her off properly, rubbing tight, hard circles against her clit as she thrust into her at a rapid pace. "God, you're so fucking gorgeous when you get like this," she said, her breath warm against Scar's skin, "so turned on that you're stupid with it, no thoughts in your head other than how badly you need me to fuck you."
Scar couldn't do anything but moan in agreement, clenching down around Grian's fingers, her hips twitching forward without her control in a silent plea for more. Her entire body felt overly hot and strained, wound-up in anticipation for the edge Grian was pushing her closer and closer to.
"Go on and touch your tits for me," Grian said, "you know how you like it," and Scar complied immediately, untangling her fingers from the sheets to cup her breast. She let out a strangled noise as the new pressure intermingled with the pleasure Grian was already wringing out of her.
"Yeah, that's it, just like that." Grian pressed a biting kiss to the juncture of Scar's neck and shoulder, flattened her tongue against the small flicker of pain so that it transitioned directly into pleasure. "Oh, you're doing so good for me, Scar, you're absolutely perfect."
"Grian," Scar sobbed, felt the shape of Grian's pleased smile against her skin, "I—ngh—don't stop, don't stop, I—please, please, please—!"
Teeth scraped lightly against Scar's skin as Grian continued mouthing along the side of her throat, and Scar tilted her head to give her more access, silently begging her to bite down harder. The wing draped over her body pushed down on her arm and side as if Grian wanted to draw Scar even closer to her, despite how Scar was already practically glued to her front, despite the arms she had wrapped around Scar.
The wet squelch of Grian's fingers moving inside her filled the pocket of space made between the mattress and blankets, forearm muscles flexing against Scar's hand as she crooked her fingers to keep a constant mind-melting pressure against that sensitive spot inside her. Scar couldn't stop rocking her hips forward, chasing the movement of Grian's hands.
She'd been edged for so long that her body was prepared for an abrupt halt in movement, for Grian to pull her fingers away. When Grian kept going, not slowing in the slightest, it was almost too much, a sudden shock that had her hips jolting as if trying to shy away from the stimulation. She keened at the lightning-bolt heat that arced up her spine, flinching reflexively against it, and Grian hummed in encouragement, kissing the side of her neck. She worked Scar through the near-overstimulation until it shifted back into the realm of pleasure, surrendering to the feeling as easy and instinctual as falling asleep. In the next rub over Scar's clit, Grian added a bit of nail, the briefest scratch, and Scar felt as if she could legitimately die like this.
"Grian, I—oh, fuck—I'm—" The rest of Scar's sentence splintered apart into a strangled cry as her release tore through her, a fire razing a dried-up forest in its path. She came with Grian's chin hooked over her shoulder, the sharp point of a canine pricking her jaw, her nails digging into Grian's skin hard enough to draw blood. Grian let out a pleased hum as Scar shook apart in her arms, gently fingering Scar through the aftershocks, then slowed to a stop.
"Beautiful," Grian murmured, and the praise had Scar clenching weakly around her fingers, a basal reflex that remained even after her mind had been rendered nothing but blissful static. She felt wrecked and wrung-out, gloriously limp and boneless in Grian's embrace.
From what felt like an extremely far distance away, Scar felt Grian pull her fingers out, the movement against her oversensitive walls causing a wrecked whimper to involuntarily escape her mouth. Grian made a low, soothing noise in the back of her throat as she removed her hands from Scar's boxers, snuggling her cheek against the side of Scar's neck.
"You did amazing, Scar," Grian said, voice soft and filled with adoration, gently smoothing her hand up and down the outside of Scar's thigh. "I'm so proud of you."
Scar floated in the warm, glow-y haze of a hard orgasm, sinking into the sensation of Grian wrapped around her. Chest to back, thigh to thigh, legs parallel and pressed together, two spoons nestled together in a drawer. Each one of Grian's breaths caused her front to push up against Scar's shoulder blades, the cocoon of feathers surrounding the two of them whispering with the movement, and she rubbed slow, slightly sticky circles against Scar's abdomen. Scar was so content that she could have melted away into pure liquid satisfaction.
The sheets rustled quietly as Grian brought her hand up to trace tacky fingers along the seam of Scar's lips. She'd probably meant it as a tease more than anything, but Scar opened without hesitation, leaning forward to lick and suck the remnants of her come off of Grian's fingers. The salty taste of her release flooded her tongue, and she couldn't help but moan weakly, the sound muffled further around the fingers in her mouth. And Grian made the most delicious noise in response—a choked, punched-out noise of surprise, her wing twitching sharply before slowly resettling.
At this point, her underwear was starting to feel really very gross. Scar squirmed out of the circle of Grian's arms, who let her go without resistance, making a querying noise at Scar's movement. Ignoring her, Scar pushed up into a sitting position, the blanket slipping partway off her body, letting in a cold draft of air that she barely registered against her still-heated skin. Movements choppy and uncoordinated, Scar shucked her boxers off of her trembling legs, tossing them onto the floor to deal with in the morning. With that dealt with, she turned to look back at Grian, who'd half-propped herself up on her elbow.
Grian's features were greyscale smudges of shadow in the dim light, eyes darker than the midnight sky outside, cheekbones silvered by what little amount of moonlight managed to make it in through the window. The faint freckles across the bridge of her nose were barely visible in the darkness, and her mouth wasn't quite a smile yet, but it was shaped like it wouldn't take much convincing to get there. She was wiping her hands off with a damp cloth that she'd probably pulled out of her inventory. When she noticed Scar watching her, she angled her head curiously but didn't say anything, putting the cloth back in her inventory.
With a soft sigh, Scar lowered herself back down onto the bed, facing Grian, then tugged the duvet up to their shoulders. Wordlessly, she folded herself into Grian's embrace, draping an arm over Grian's waist. The fabric of Grian's sweater was soft against her bare torso.
And Grian did smile now, warm and sweet, muted joy spreading across her face like a sunrise. She leaned in to briefly press her lips against Scar's forehead. "Hey, Scar."
"Grian," Scar mumbled back drowsily, tucking her head under Grian's chin. Arms came up to wind around her shoulders, a wing settling overtop both of them like another blanket.
"Ready to go back to sleep?" Grian said.
"Mmhm." Scar snuggled further into Grian's embrace, soaking up her body heat, breathing in her familiar scent, tangling their legs together so that it would be nearly impossible for Grian to escape. Fatigue blanketed her almost as tangibly as Grian's wing currently was, and she wanted nothing more than to drift off to sleep in the circle of Grian's arms.
It was warm in this pocket made of sheets and feathers, now a comfortable temperature instead of sweltering after the brief exposure to the cooler bedroom air. Scar slid her hand up Grian's spine to fiddle with the ends of her tertiaries, using the smooth, silken texture to help settle her back in her body. Although she didn't give any verbal indication, Grian's wings ruffled up the way they did when she was pleased about something. And when Scar stroked down the shaft of a feather, Grian made a happy little trilling noise, so quiet that Scar would have missed it if her ear wasn't pressed to Grian's throat.
Scar was struggling to keep her eyes open, so she let them slide shut, the dim light of the room turning into the soft black of closed eyelids. "You're amazing," Scar said, nuzzling her face against Grian's throat. "We should do this again sometime."
"Sure." Grian traced the edges of Scar's shoulder blade, ran her palm down the curve of Scar's bicep. "Whatever you want." Then she snickered quietly and said something that ended in "—getting off on someone else making decisions for you, you weirdo," but Scar was too sleepy to do anything in response but tweak one of Grian's feathers. Grian giggled, patting Scar's shoulder in an appeasing fashion.
Morning was still hours away, far off in the way of a slowly approaching rainstorm. Scar was aware of her surroundings only in a series of faded, dreamlike snapshots: the press of Grian's cheek against the top of her head; the way she hooked her ankle around Scar's calf to draw her closer; how she kept smoothing her hands along Scar's skin like she wanted to permanently etch the sensation into her mind. Scar probably wouldn't even remember these moments in the morning, the seconds right before unconsciousness erased by hours of sleep. But that was okay. She had an entire lifetime to amass an extensive collection of the feeling of Grian in her arms, warm and soft and sweet.
Grian shifted slightly, and maybe she was saying something, but Scar was already asleep.