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“C’mon, one more.”
“Shit- god damnit…”
Abby chuckled a little, hands braced on either side of Ellie’s head as the bar trembles upwards one last time. Ellie’s bangs are sticking to her forehead, her splatters of freckles slick and highlighted from the blush on her face. Her eyebrows are pinched together in focus, and Abby almost feels bad for her.
“El, eyes open. You can do it.” Abby cooed, she couldn’t help it. It’s so satisfying to see Ellie glare up at her in return, all tired and flushed.
With a small, decisive whimper, Ellie finishes the last lift. Abby swoops in and takes the bar from her, setting it briefly on the ground to give her a pat on the back.
“Atta girl.” Abby says through a smirk. Ellie opens her eyes to shoot her a halfhearted glare and a mumbled “fuck off”.
Abby lets her sit there and nurse a water bottle for a moment, studying the sweat stained sports bra sticking to her back, and the raised veins on her slender hands. She chews the inside of her lip and focuses her attention onto wiping down and putting their equipment away.
By the time they’ve cooled down and packed up, Abby realizes how late it is. It was light out when they started, but now the sky was a dark purple leaking into inky black.
Ellie comes up beside her and huffs slightly in annoyance. “I can’t believe you convinced me to do this today. I have work tomorrow.” They grumble.
Abby shrugs and goes to pat their back, hard enough to unsteady them for a second. “You’re welcome for keeping us in shape.”
Ellie rolls her eyes and bats Abby’s hand away, but a part of her is thankful. I mean, she’s gonna be fuckin’ sore all day tomorrow, but at least she got to hear Abby encourage her. She tried to push that thought away, at least for now.
On the downside, she has to go change in the locker room in front of her and pray it’s not too obvious how much she really liked it.
They talk absently about work and the weather as they pad side by side to the dingy little locker rooms. The rest of the gym was long empty, leaving silhouettes of lonely equipment. They’re the only ones there, thankfully. Their local little gym seemed to only be in business for their sakes.
The cool tile locker room air soothes the burning on their cheeks and shoulders, lessening the shades of red and pink. Ellie breaths a tired sigh of relief as she tosses her empty water bottle on the bench and rubs the back of her sore neck, eyes shutting for a moment before she walks to the row of sinks behind them.
Abby watches the water bottle hit the bench and promptly clatter to the ground. She huffs a little through her nose, more out of amusement than anything, and carefully picks the bottle up and sets it down correctly on the bench.
Abby turns and opens her locker next to Ellie’s, grabbing her bag while Ellie splashes her face in the sink behind her.
The lights buzz slightly, old lightbulbs straining from overuse. A faucet is dripping somewhere, echoing through the tile walls and filling the otherwise silent space. Ellie sighs and pushes her wet hair out of her face, passively thinking about cutting it again. Her thoughts get ushered away the second she glances behind herself in the mirror, and see’s Abby tugging her bra off, facing the lockers.
It’s not like they don’t change around one another constantly, or just sit around topless because of the heat…
Ellie grips the counter slightly. Double checking to make sure abby can’t see her reflection eyeing the muscle of her back. Shes sweaty, with a light sheen reflecting off her back from the shitty lights, a handful of freckles scattered and strewn around as if trying to strenuously cover each area, like too little jam spread over a large slice of bread. Her braid dangles behind her, like the bait on a lure begging for Ellie to come take a bite.
It’s not like she hasn’t before.
Her stomach tenses slightly and she shakes the thought away. One or two drunk encounters doesn’t count.
But it’s the fact she knows how Abby tastes, and how those freckles ripple when she arches her back. Even if the memory is tainted and drunk, it makes the hunger worse.
Ellie realizes how tense her body is and forces it to relax, tearing her eyes away to look down at the sink, water still swirling down into the drain.
Abby hears the water shut off, followed by footsteps leading up to Ellie’s locker beside her. She glances over at Ellie’s flushed a freckled face for a selfish little beat, before going back to fishing her deodorant out from the bottom of her bag.
She listens to the rustle of fabric beside her and the creak of the changing bench as she finishes applying her pine deodorant. She doesn’t bother with a bra and tosses some random shirt on before promptly ridding herself of her leggings and boxers.
When she turns around to grab her jeans off the bench, eyes snagging on Ellie. She was sitting on the bench a couple feet away, looking halfheartedly down at her phone. She’d shed her sports bra and shorts and was sitting casually in her boxers.
Abby blinks rapidly. The sight shouldn’t startle her like it does. She stares at the bits of hair trailing down Ellie’s toned stomach, and her small breasts, her stomach twists when she notices the little freckles on them.
Before Ellie can see her, Abby forces herself to turn away and finish getting dressed.
She feels her jeans uncomfortably press against her and frowns. Images of a much softer, freckled pressure on her makes Abby flush. She wants nothing more than to crawl into Ellie’s lap and soak her stupid toned thighs and-
“We should grab a pack on the way home.” Ellie says casually without looking up from her phone. Abby snaps out of her haze and realizes she’s gripping her bag. She takes a short breath and zips her duffle up before turning to Ellie, who was tugging a shirt on (thank fucking god).
“What ever happened to ‘I have work tomorrow’.” Abby remarks as she shuts the locker. Ellie shrugs as she buckles her belt and starts tying her shoes.
“I have a 3-9pm shift tomorrow. Besides, I need to not fucking feel my body after this.” Ellie says as she stands, rotating her shoulder with a tired sigh. Abby huffs a dry laugh and checks her phone. It isn’t that late. Plus she doesn’t have work tomorrow…
“Sure. But I get to pick. I’m so tired of those crummy fruity drinks.” Ellie’s scoffs a laugh, feigning hurt.
“Wow. Sorry I don’t like the stench of beer.”
“I wasn’t gonna get beer. I was thinking like, a whiskey or something.” Abby huffs, crossing her arm as Ellie stands up and strides past her.
“Can you even afford a good whiskey?” Ellie says, turning around to walk backwards out of the locker room. Abby raises her eyebrows.
“Who said I’m paying? You’re the one who suggested drinks.” Ellie rolls her eyes and turns back around, falling into pace beside Abby.
“The picker pays. That’s always been the rule.”
“And you picked tonight to drink.” Abby says as she waves goodnight the half awake employee at the desk.
The cold night air soothes the built up heat in their bodies, Ellie takes a deep breath, filling her lungs with it while Abby huffs in defeat and unlocks her car.
“Fine. And yes, I can afford a good whiskey just fine, thank you.”
“A joint would go well with that.” Ellie hums as they jump into the passenger seat, one foot up on the dashboard as they toss their bag in the backseat.
“Your lungs are gonna rot out of your body one day.” Abby says as she swats Ellie’s shin off the dashboard. Ellie rolls her eyes and gets buckled.
“Not me, I’m pure of heart.”
“We both know that’s not true.” Abby retorts as she sets the radio to something mellow.
Ellie gasps, pushing Abby down into the couch and straddling her. Hands, warm hands, all gripping and tugging and shedding every offensive layer of clothes that dare get in their way.
Panting, sucking, biting, decorating every inch of skin. The taste of whiskey leeching into writhing freckled flesh, pooling in the dips made by insatiable teeth.
The warm buzz has turned from lingering glances and grazing fingers to a burn of grinding slick flesh together.
The couch creaks under them, cushions damp. “A-ah-“ Desperate whimpers and low moans fill the room.
Ellie grips the back of the couch with one hand, the other leaving red clawed paths over Abby’s shoulder.
Abby’s hands are gripping the couch for support, having already left a plethora of needy scratches over Ellie’s back.
Their throttling can’t seem to stop, like it’s seeped into them both. Even when they both shudder and gasp and pulse, they won’t stop.
This is the only time they’re allowed to have this. When they’re both so drunk and stoned nothing else matters, just the friction between them and the gnashing of lips.
And when they wake up, sometimes tangled together, other times isolated in their lonesome rooms, they wouldn’t mention it. They’d go to work and banter and go to the gym, but that’s shameful hunger would always be lurking in the back of their minds.