Chapter Text
“Where are you?”
Trinity paused her task, torn between admitting the truth of her whereabouts or prolonging the inevitable. Yolanda called her name twice with increasing impatience, her tone edging into irritation, before Trinity released a grunt to show she hadn’t hung up.
“You see…” Trinity commenced, tossing a brisk glance toward the mirror where her disheveled hair hinted at a recent, impulsive grooming attempt about five minutes ago. “I’m kinda in the middle of something very important.”
Yolanda huffed, undoubtedly growing more frustrated with the vague answer. “Why do you sound like that?”
“Like what?” Trinity winced at how high-pitched her voice came out and dramatically cleared her throat.
“Like you've been caught with your hand in a fucking cookie jar.”
“Must you be so vulgar?” Trinity grumbled, despite being secretly aroused by how Yolanda’s cadence kind of shifts when she curses. “I'll be there soon. Don't start season three without me.”
“I make no promises, cariño.”
Trinity’s heart pounded fiercely in response to the pet name, causing her to grasp the cool edge of the porcelain sink to steady herself. Yolanda giggled softly, clearly aware that Trinity was taking a moment to recover from the gentleness of it. Evil little shit. She was still gradually adjusting to the fond, caring demeanor that Yolanda kept aiming at her. The transition from casual to this was a challenge in itself.
“Hurry up. I’m hungry, and I miss you.” Fuck, her voice alone was so mesmerizing it could make her skin split apart.
“I’m coming, baby.”
Yolanda hummed as she deliberately let the double innuendo hang in the air, the subtle click of implication resonating just before Trinity could backtrack. “Not too quick, though, I hope?” She teased, her tone playful yet edged with anticipation.
This fucking surgeon was going to be the reason Trinity fell into an early grave.
“Bye, Yolanda.” She ended the call amid Yolanda’s amused laughter, then rolled her eyes and refocused on her task. "Okay…” Trinity said, picking up the borrowed clippers from Huckleberry’s bathroom and pressing play on the paused YouTube tutorial. "This is so fucking complicated, and for what?”
She began at the sides, following the instructions from the older woman who presented herself masculinely, about how to cut a mullet. The woman mentioned she was a retired barber, so she must know what she was doing...right? God, Trinity, hoped so. Strands of dark, thick brown hair spilled into the sink, and Trinity grimaced as pieces of herself were stripped away. Her Lola once told her that hair held memories. Sorry, Lola. Your granddaughter is too impulsive for her own good.
The back was the trickiest part to assess, because Trinity had a limited view even with the portable mirror she had placed behind her. At this point, the back wasn’t her business.
After some time – strings of locks littered below and pain shooting through her arm from prolonged use – Trinity finally finished. She set down the scissors, combing her fingers through her shortened hair with furrowed brows and an expression saying: what the fuck did I just do?
The next step was to send Dennis a picture. She needed someone other than Yolanda to confirm she made the right choice. Knowing Huck, he would either send a billion laughing emojis or gape like a fucking useless fish at his screen.
She angled her phone to capture the entire cut and took two photos, sending them off to him. Trinity waited patiently, shaking her head slightly so her strands also moved, the sharp ends tickling the strong line of her jaw.
And as expected, her phone dinged with three laughing emoticons and the one with its finger below the chin as though he was confused. Trinity narrowed her eyes at her reflection before she typed out a response.
😂😂😂🤔
it can’t be THAT bad why df are you giggling
first of all i don’t giggle i’m not some twink
Trinity snorted at that. It was so unbelievably far from the truth that she had to reel herself back to the predicament at hand before she strayed into teasing territory.
second of all you look so ridiculous. vic asked if you're experiencing an early mid-life crisis
Trinity's face scrunched at his admission, then she clicked her tongue, her fingers flying fast across the keys.
tell crash to suck my dick
and what kinda fucking best friends are u two???
the ones that are honest with you
it literally looks like you cut it yourself
A brief pause – Trinity took some time to respond.
OMG YOU DID DIDN'T YOU
this is gold trin. olympic medal winning GOLD
don't u have a patient to kill again or something
Trinity doesn't text back. Instead she focused all of her energy into cleaning up her mess, and pointedly ignoring a string of messages from a group chat she definitely regretted being apart of now. She then quickly showered, purposely wetting her hair so it curled.
Now, positioned in front of her full-length mirror in grey jean shorts, an unevenly cropped band t-shirt she thrifted that displayed her belly button piercing, and her well-worn Crocs. Trinity contemplated the damage she couldn't undo. The mullet was towel-dried to emphasize its deliberately messy style, and she was confident she looked good.
Fuck Dennis. Fuck his opinion.
Her phone buzzed against her thigh. She pulled it out of her pocket while absently spritzing cologne to the skin where her pulse beat steadily.
It was Yolanda.
I am two seconds away from creating a voodoo doll of you.
Do you want to be tortured? Will that make you move your ass?
Trinity pressed her lips into a thin line, holding in a laugh that threatened to escape. How did I bag her again?
you’re so dramatic
i’m on my way
You haven't even left your apartment!
Oh…oh fuck. It completely evaded her mind that she and Yolanda shared locations.
i’m leaving now i swear
Yolanda threw her head back in clear frustration, exhaling slowly to settle herself. She couldn’t explain why her irritation came on so quickly. Since childhood, her anger would flare abruptly over the smallest things, often resulting in punishment or scolding from her abuela that may or may not have had a chancleta pointed at her. Her therapist explained it was because people could be inherently irritating, so she needed to learn how to calm herself before she said – or did – something she might regret. Breathing exercises didn't do shit but irritate her more. Then a twisted part of her supplied an even more pesky thought: this is why you need therapy.
Trinity inadvertently entered the list of her many pet peeves, specifically people who lack a sense of fucking urgency. She knew the right thing was to tell Trinity how she felt, and that Trinity would get it. After ten consecutive months of hanging around each other under the guise of casual, and three months of genuinely trying to be a couple, she has come to learn that Trinity is very understanding. Was therapy even helping her?
She stared at the ceiling for a moment and thought of Trinity's face: her smile, those green eyes that do unspeakable things to Yolanda’s composure, her silky hair, her body, her ton–Yolanda crossed her legs, clenched her thighs, and bit her bottom lip, her irritation quickly easing out of her.
Perhaps Trinity was the very distraction her therapist advised her to seek.
She was fucked beyond repair.
Twenty minutes passed, an old nostalgic spanish novella her mom used to watch, glared from her mounted television screen. Nova, her domestic shorthair cat, sprung onto the sectional beside her with a loud purr – nudging her head against Yolanda’s bent knee.
“I know, Nov,” Yolanda sighed, stroking her thumb behind the feline’s ear. “I miss her too.”
Nova purred again, circling several unnecessary times before plopping down in loaf formation. Yolanda smiled, continuing her caressing motions through her cat’s fur. The sound of the front door lock turning snapped her attention to it, Nova – having only just settled – dashed off the couch like a fucking traitor. Yolanda rolled her eyes but pushed herself up to follow, only to find Trinity crouched over Nova, whom was on her back, Trinity scratching her belly with soft coos.
“Look what the cat dragged–,” Yolanda paused before her joke could hit, and immediately squinted at Trinity's head. “What the fuck did you?”
Trinity had the audacity to look sheepish, slowly ascending to her full height. “Hello to you, too.” She closed the distance between them in quick steps, and leaned up on her toes to greet her girlfriend properly, but Yolanda turned her head and Trinity missed by a margin – her lips landing on the corner of her mouth instead.
“Did you just dodg–,” Trinity was cut off by Yolanda's fingers running through the shortened hair, gripping enough to tip her head back even more. “Fuck.”
“What were you thinking?”
Um…” Trinity moaned involuntarily when Yolanda’s grip seemed to tighten. Yolanda's eyes darkened at the sound, a smirk forming. “I wasn't thinking.”
Yolanda tugged her head to the left, then the right to inspect the sides. Trinity was clearly trying her best to keep any noises that firmness might have evoked at bay. Yolanda simply smirked wider at the evident restraint. Her hand slid to Trinity’s nape.
“Did you cut this yourself?” Yolanda asked, eyebrows furrowed in amusement.
Trinity nodded, flushing pink all the way to the tips of her ears. “Me, a pair of clippers, and an embarrassingly long YouTube video.”
“This is such a level ten Trinity thing to do,” Yolanda caught a few pieces between her fingers and twirled the dampened softness of them. “I can't even be mad.”
“Level ten?”
“Yes, cariño. There’s levels to this shit, and the shit just happens to be your impulsive behavior.”
Trinity opened her mouth, then closed them. Yolanda decided right then and there to lean down, capturing her lips in a kiss that started innocent and changed course when Trinity whimpered into it. Both of Yolanda’s hands were now buried in the botched mullet as she tilted her head, opening her mouth and their tongues met in the middle. Yolanda’s stomach felt so fucking fuzzy. How she passed that feeling off as nothing for months still perplexed her. Trinity’s hand – the one that wasn’t holding a brown paper takeout bag – slipped around Yolanda’s waist, then trailed down over the curve of her ass, squeezing the plumpness of a cheek. Yolanda groaned, their lips locking, releasing – the wet slide of them exhilarating.
Trinity suddenly disconnected with a trembling, “fuck.” Yolanda hadn’t even opened her eyes yet; her chest was rising and falling too rapidly, a tingling sensation of fur wounding around her ankles. “Baby?” Her voice was so breathless that Yolanda had to compose herself enough to fight her eyelids to separate. Trinity appeared before her, just as wrecked with desire as she herself felt. “Are you okay?”
“No, I'm not fucking okay,” she said, her fingers digging into her hair once more before she reluctantly released it, the desire obvious in her clenched jaw and shaky hands. “You are trouble.”
Trinity rolled her eyes at the comment that would have devastated her if they weren't together. “It's just a mullet. You'll survive.”
Yolanda looked stunned. “Just a mullet? I'm going to have to shoot every lesbian in Pittsburgh.”
Trinity suddenly burst into a laugh, which was so infectious that Yolanda, despite her seriousness, couldn't help but join in. Yolanda playfully shoved her back by the shoulder and took the bag from her hand, leading their conversation into the open kitchen space.
"So, if I hear about a mass casualty arriving at the Pitt, I should assume it's your doing?" Trinity said, approaching from behind, wrapping her arms around her waist and resting her cheek between her shoulder blades. Yolanda breathed out a feigned bothered huff. “Do you like it? Cause Dennis said I looked ridiculous, which strengthened my belief that men shouldn't have the right to speak.”
Why was Trinity holding her so weirdly? It felt as though her hips weren’t exactly where she needed them, which was against her body. She decided not to pay the awkwardness of the posture any attention – her mind still besotted by that fucking mullet.
“It does need a bit more trimming, but yes, cariño. I love it.”
“I love you.” Trinity mumbled, burrowing further into Yolanda’s back.
Yolanda pressed her tongue behind her teeth as heat immediately warmed its way under her skin. Fuckkkkk. Why did that still fuck her up that much? “And I love you.” She swore she could feel the shape of Trinity’s smile through her thin shirt. “Go wash your hands so we can eat.”
“Give me a sec,” Trinity sighed and it sounded so much like content that Yolanda had to physically restrain herself from spinning around, and fucking her into the floor.
“Mi cielo…”
“Mi amor…”
“Trinity.”
“Garcia.”
Yolanda exhaled roughly. “Why are you doing this to me?”
“What exactly am I doing?”
"Existing.” Yolanda uttered, and she felt Trinity stiffen. She hadn’t meant to boost her already huge ego; it just slipped out, as if her mouth required constant was supervision to function in the resident’s presence. “You're gonna be annoying about that, aren't you?”
“You know me so well,” Trinity ultimately released her comforting embrace – Yolanda immediately missing the warmth – and stepped back enough for Yolanda to face her.
“Go,” Yolanda motioned in the direction of the sink. Trinity smiled, all perfect teeth, and obliged – her fingers grazing Yolanda’s hip as she passed. “You're a fucking menace with a mullet.”
Trinity chuckled from her position. Yolanda dragged a hand over the top of her head and freed her hair from its confines, her moisturized curls falling heavily to the middle of her back. Trinity halted, hands under running water, turning her head to Yolanda. “How are you so fucking fine?” She scoffed, distracted from washing her hands, then switched off the tap.
Yolanda beamed at the compliment she was sure wasn't meant for her ears, if Trinity’s spreading blush is any indication. “What is it with you and my hair?”
“Are we asking stupid questions now?”
Yolanda frowned and arched a thick brow. Trinity sauntered back over, almost tripping on Nova’s flapping tail. Yolanda's cat had a knack for materializing where people needed to watch their step. It was her skill.
“Have I ever told you that playing with your hair calms me when my thoughts get too dark?” Yolanda didn’t know that. Three distinct emotions flickered across her features upon digesting that revelation. Trinity gazed up at her, already reaching to weave her long fingers between Yolanda’s slightly tangled hair. “Not even bullshitting you,” she tacked on in a whisper before tugging Yolanda down by a firm clutch at the base of her skull, slotting their lips together.
That was the first issue, Yolanda had decided. Trinity had become too honest. It unraveled something in Yolanda’s already unstable mind.
The second issue was that Trinity was kissing her like she had no real understanding of consequences, her fingers curled deep in Yolanda’s hair, pulling just enough to make a pulse of heat move low in her stomach. The kiss itself was already becoming a problem. Trinity’s mouth was warm and incessant, tasting faintly of mint and whatever lip balm she had applied. Her new hair brushed Yolanda’s knuckles in damp, cut pieces, and Yolanda was still struggling to adjust to that on top of everything else. The haircut alone should have came with a warning label.
Warning!! Might make you wet!!
Then her palm shifted lower against Trinity’s shorts, and something hard pressed back beneath the denim.
Yolanda froze.
Trinity did not. Of course she didn’t. She was always up to something.
Yolanda pulled away slowly, her lips still parted, her breathing already too uneven. Trinity’s mouth followed hers, chasing the kiss with a small, frustrated sound that shouldn’t have affected Yolanda as much as it did. It did, unfortunately, because Trinity had a talent for making every ridiculous thing she did somehow land directly in Yolanda’s chest.
Yolanda lowered her gaze.
Trinity’s grey shorts sat low on her hips, the shirt riding high enough to show the jewelry punctured through the skin of her navel and the narrow line of her stomach. She looked smug and nervous simultaneously, which was impressive, considering most people picked one emotional crisis and committed to it. Her cheeks had started flushing, her green eyes a little too wide, and Yolanda felt the heat under her own skin circulate with an almost irritating amount of speed.
“Trinity,” Yolanda said.
Trinity blinked.
There it was. That guilty little face. The one she made right before admitting something that was going to raise Yolanda’s blood pressure and probably shorten her life span.
“Before you get mad–,”
“I’m not mad.” Yolanda’s hand pressed again, more deliberately this time, and Trinity’s mouth shut with a soft click of her teeth. Very interesting. “I’m trying to understand why you came into my apartment, holding takeout, with a haircut that needs professional involvement, and a strap under your shorts.”
Trinity swallowed.
Yolanda watched the movement of her throat and despised, deeply, how much she wanted to bite there. Is this how vampires feel?
“I was going to mention it.”
“Were you?” Yolanda asked, her thumb brushing over the shape through the denim, light enough to be torturous. Trinity’s hips twitched, barely, but Yolanda felt it. “Was that before or after you almost fell over my cat?”
“Nova was in my way.”
“Nova’s allowed to be. She lives here.”
“So do you, and you’re also in my way sometimes.”
Yolanda stared at her.
Trinity’s lips pressed together like she knew was talking faster than her brain processed the words.
“That was supposed to sound smoother,” Trinity admitted.
Yolanda huffed, though it came out embarrassingly close to a laugh. The sound only encouraged Trinity, because apparently the woman had never encountered positive feedback she didn’t immediately abuse. Yolanda slid her hand from the front of Trinity’s shorts to her hip, then around to the small of her back, pulling her closer until the strap pressed between them.
Fuck.
Yolanda’s breath hitched before she could control it.
“Baby,” Trinity murmured, softer now, the teasing slipping out of her voice as she searched Yolanda’s face. “Are you okay?”
No. Yolanda was not okay. Yolanda was standing in her kitchen with her hair loose, her dinner going cold, her cat most likely plotting another murder attempt in the hall, and her girlfriend flushed against her with a cock in her pants like she hadn’t already caused enough damage by cutting her hair into a style Yolanda hated herself for liking.
“I’m fine,” Yolanda lied.
Trinity’s brows lifted. “You’re doing that thing where you lie badly.”
Yolanda tightened her grip at Trinity’s waist. “You’re doing that thing where you speak when you should be grateful I haven’t thrown you onto the nearest surface.”
Trinity’s expression changed immediately.
Yolanda saw it happen. Saw the bravado falter beneath the weight of wanting. Saw Trinity’s mouth part, her lashes lower, her whole body responding to the threat before her brain had time to deflect it into a joke. Yolanda should’ve felt victorious. Instead, something hot and possessive moved through her so sharply that she had to breathe through her nose.
Therapy had not prepared her for this.
Then again, therapy had also not prepared her for falling in love with a resident who cut her own hair and showed up armed like the very definition of the word butch.
“Bedroom,” Yolanda ordered.
Trinity’s eyes brightened in a way that was going to become everyone’s problem. “So dinner is canceled?”
“Dinner is resting.”
“That sounds like something people say when someone dies.”
“Keep talking, mi cielo, and I’ll make you eat on the floor.”
Trinity made a small sound that was definitely not fear.
Yolanda’s eyes narrowed.
Oh. That was going into a file.
Trinity seemed to realize she had betrayed herself, because she immediately cleared her throat and looked toward the hallway like the bedroom was suddenly difficult to locate. Yolanda grabbed her hand and lugged her forward before she could recover enough to become annoying again.
They did almost trip over Nova.
Yolanda cursed under her breath while Trinity laughed against her shoulder, and the ordinary ridiculousness of it should have given Yolanda a chance to calm down. It didn’t. If anything, hearing Trinity laugh with knowledge of her wearing that thing made Yolanda feel more insane.
Yolanda reached the bedroom and turned so abruptly that Trinity nearly ran into her.
Good. Let her be off balance for once.
Trinity steadied herself with both hands at Yolanda’s waist, her fingers warm through the thin material of Yolanda’s shirt. Her eyes flicked up to Yolanda’s mouth, and the uncertainty there softened something in Yolanda despite the heat still working through her bloodstream.
“Still okay?” Trinity asked.
Yolanda didn’t like how quickly tenderness surrounded them when Trinity said things like that. Hated it, needed it, and loved her for it, which was so inconvenient.
She cupped Trinity’s jaw, sweeping her thumb along the side of her face. “Yes. I’m okay.”
Trinity nodded, but her gaze remained careful.
Yolanda’s chest tightened. Fuck, she was in love with her. It still hit her like a train sometimes. Not because the feeling itself was terrible, but because it was too large and too sudden and too capable of undoing her attitude. Trinity could be standing in front of her wearing a concept of a mullet, and a strap-on, and Yolanda would still look at her and feel something painful in its sweetness.
Disgusting.
Embarrassing.
Terminal, probably.
Yolanda kissed her before the feeling could make her sentimental out loud.
Trinity responded instantly, arms sliding around her like she had been waiting for consent to fall apart. Her hand slipped into Yolanda’s hair again, caressing through the curls with a slow reverence that made Yolanda’s stomach clench. The touch wasn’t even sexual at first. That was the unfair part. Trinity’s fingers drove through like she was anchoring herself, like the weight and texture of Yolanda’s hair was something she trusted, and Yolanda had to fight the urge to close her eyes and allow that to undo her.
“You and my hair,” Yolanda murmured against her mouth.
Trinity’s fingers tightened slightly. “Don’t act like you don’t like it.”
Yolanda bit her bottom lip.
Trinity gasped.
Good.
Yolanda walked her backwards until Trinity’s legs hit the edge of the bed. Trinity dropped down hard, blinking up at her with flushed cheeks and that stupid haircut curling near her jaw. The sight shouldn’t have been attractive. It was and that annoyed Yolanda on principle.
“Take off your shirt,” Yolanda said.
Trinity’s lips curved, but her hands obeyed. “Bossy.”
“Hm.”
Trinity removed her shirt, and Yolanda’s mouth went a little dry when it landed on the floor. She knew Trinity’s body. By now, after a year, she was very familiar with the shape of Trinity’s shoulders, the tattoos, the softness hiding beneath all that nervous energy, the way she looked when she tried to hold still and failed. But knowing did nothing to stop the reaction from coursing through her.
Trinity glanced down at herself, then back up, her confidence flickering under Yolanda’s attention.
Yolanda caught it immediately.
She stepped between Trinity’s knees and traced her fingers along Trinity’s jaw, then down her neck, over her collarbone, letting the touch linger. Trinity’s breathing worsened when Yolanda’s nails grazed lightly over her skin.
“You look good,” Yolanda admitted.
Trinity’s face softened before she could arrange it into the smugness that always arrived first. “Yeah?”
“Don’t make me repeat myself.”
“No, no, I heard you. I’m just letting it marinate.”
Yolanda pushed her shoulder, and Trinity laughed as she fell back onto her elbows. The laughter transformed into something quieter when Yolanda reached for the button of her shorts.
Her finger paused there. “Can I?”
“Yeah, baby.”
Yolanda hated how much that simple answer dizzily swayed her. She undid the opening slowly, because Trinity was watching her hands, her breath caught, and Yolanda reveled in the way anticipation ruined her. The denim loosened, and the strap shifted beneath it, no longer concealed for either of them to pretend. Yolanda pulled the shorts down Trinity’s hips, with the younger woman’s assistance, taking in the harness first, then the cock secured against her.
For a few seconds, she only stared.
Trinity didn’t speak, and that was how Yolanda clocked her nervousness. The cock wasn’t subtle. Neither was Trinity, apparently. It sat hard and firm against her body. Yolanda’s pulse hammered in response, a heavy beat that made her thighs press together before she could stop it.
Trinity saw that.
Fucking menace.
“You wore this the whole way here?” Yolanda asked, her voice lower than expected.
Trinity nodded, lips parted slightly. “Yes.”
“In the car?”
“Yes.”
“With takeout in your passenger seat?”
Trinity blinked. “Technically it was on the floor.”
Yolanda stared at Trinity.
“Not the point.” Trinity said, bashful.
Yolanda laughed despite herself, then reached down and wrapped her hand around the strap. Trinity’s hips jerked, her eyes fluttering in a way that made Yolanda’s amusement disappear – masked by something darker. She couldn’t feel it the same way, Yolanda knew that, but the harness must have pressed against her, maybe rubbed somewhere sensitive, because Trinity’s fingers curled into the comforter.
“You’re sensitive,” Yolanda commented, stroking once with enough pressure to make Trinity’s stomach tense.
Trinity visibly gulped. “You’re touching me like you’re trying to prove a point.”
“I am proving a point.”
“What point?”
Yolanda leaned down, her mouth close to Trinity’s ear. “That you’re not as in control as you think you are.”
Trinity made a sound Yolanda wanted desperately to hear again, so she kissed her.
Trinity’s hands came up fast, grasping Yolanda’s waist, tugging her down until Yolanda had to brace one knee on the bed. The silicone toy pressed against her through her lounge pants, and the sensation made her break the kiss with a sharp inhale. Trinity stilled beneath her, eyes searching her face again.
Yolanda placed a hand on Trinity’s chest, pushing her flat into the mattress.
“Don’t stop now,” she said, because if Trinity asked one more soft, careful question, Yolanda was going to start feeling things that would require immediate distraction.
Trinity’s smile returned slowly. “Yes, ma’am.”
Yolanda’s entire body reacted.
Trinity’s smile widened.
A mistake.
Yolanda grabbed her chin, holding her still. “Be very careful with that mouth.”
Trinity looked up at her, a blushing gorgeous mess and entirely too pleased with herself. “I thought you said it was useful.”
Yolanda kissed her hard enough to shut her up. It worked, for the most part. Trinity groaned into her mouth, and Yolanda let the sound move through her before she detached to take off her own shirt. Trinity leered like a pervert: her gaze made Yolanda feel both exposed and worshipped. It was different from being desired in a casual sense. This was heavier.
Trinity sat up enough to touch her, palms dancing over Yolanda’s belly and up her ribs. Yolanda’s first instinct was to joke. Her second was to cover herself. Her third, apparently, was to permit Trinity to have this. Trinity kissed the center of her chest, then lower, her mouth soft and lingering. Yolanda’s hand went to the back of Trinity’s head, fingers sliding into the shortened hair. Trinity hummed softly, nuzzling into the contact like Yolanda’s hand in her hair was enough to calm something inside her.
Yolanda’s chest hurt.
Absolutely the fuck not.
She tugged Trinity’s hair gently until Trinity looked up.
“Pants off,” Yolanda murmured.
Trinity’s eyes darkened. “Yours or mine?”
“Mine. Yours have already done enough today.”
Trinity laughed against her skin, then helped her undress with hands that were not as steady as she probably wished they were. Yolanda stepped out of her pants and underwear, trying not to feel ridiculous standing almost bare while Trinity stayed on the bed wearing nothing but her undergarments, the harness, and too much confidence.
Then Trinity looked at her and Yolanda’s thoughts faltered.
Because Trinity’s expression didn’t switch to clever. It went quiet. Open. Hungry, yes, but also tender in that dangerous way that made Yolanda want to tell her to stop and keep going at the same time. Her eyes moved over Yolanda’s body, idling at her breasts, her stomach, the dark curls peeking from between her thighs, the wetness Yolanda could already feel cooling against her skin.
Yolanda wanted to make a comment, but she couldn’t find one fast enough.
Trinity reached for her instead, guiding herself closer between her legs after they flipped positions. Her hands caressed Yolanda’s thighs first, then slid behind them, kneading lightly as she leaned in and kissed the inside of one. Yolanda’s breath caught at the softness of it.
“You’re staring,” Yolanda managed.
Trinity smiled against her thigh. “I know.”
“That wasn’t permission to continue.”
“No, but the way you’re holding my hair kind of is.”
Yolanda glanced down and realized her fingers had tightened again.
Stupid hand.
Trinity kissed higher, and Yolanda’s annoyance turned into something much less useful. Her mouth skimmed close enough for her breath to graze where Yolanda was already slick, and Yolanda’s hips shifted forward before she could pretend she had dignity.
Trinity noticed that too.
God, she hated her.
She loved her.
Whatever.
“Don’t tease me,” Yolanda warned.
Trinity looked up, green eyes bright beneath the mess of her hair. “I would never.”
“You absolutely would.”
“Okay, yes, but I’m scared of you tonight.”
Yolanda almost laughed, then Trinity put her mouth on her, and the laugh collapsed into a moan so quickly it was humiliating. Trinity’s tongue moved slowly at first, a careful stroke through her folds, then another when Yolanda’s hips twitched. She was warm and focused, her mouth fitting against Yolanda’s pussy with a kind of attention that made Yolanda’s skin prickle from her neck down to her thighs.
“Fuck,” Yolanda gasped, head tipping back.
Trinity moaned in response, the sound vibrating against her cunt.
Yolanda’s grip nearly slipped.
This was going to be a problem.
Several problems, actually, because Trinity ate her out like she had been starved for decades and just discovered that pussy could be edible. Her hands held Yolanda’s thighs open, fingers pressing into heated skin, thumbs stroking in small soothing motions that didn’t match the filthy insistence of her mouth. Yolanda tried to hold still and failed almost immediately. Her hips rolled forward, chasing Trinity’s tongue, and Trinity responded with an eager little sound that made Yolanda’s eyes squeeze shut.
“Don’t get smug,” Yolanda warned, though her voice was too breathless to carry the proper amount of authority.
Trinity retreated just enough to speak. “I’m literally trying to enjoy my dinner.”
Yolanda looked down at her.
That didn’t help.
Trinity’s mouth was wet, her cheeks flushed, her eyes fixed on Yolanda with a hunger that made the room feel smaller. Yolanda felt a fresh gush of arousal drip out of her that her hand tightening in Trinity’s hair again.
Trinity’s eyelids fluttered.
Oh.
“You’re annoying,” Trinity muttered.
“And you’re wet.”
Trinity's face tinted a more prominent shade of pink.
Yolanda felt victorious for about half a breath before Trinity leaned forward and dragged her tongue over Yolanda again with enough pressure to make her gasp. The victory left. Several thoughts left with it. Yolanda’s hand settled on Trinity’s shoulder, nails digging in as Trinity worked her faster, then slower, teasing her clit with the tip of her tongue until Yolanda’s thighs started to tremble.
The television was still on in the living room.
Yolanda could hear faint dramatic music through the wall; some woman wailing about betrayal or inheritance or a baby switched at birth. She wasn’t sure. She also didn’t care, because Trinity had two fingers teasing at her entrance and her mouth ravishing Yolanda’s clit – alternating between suctions and kitten licks – and any part of Yolanda’s brain trying to process the outside world deserved to be reset.
“Trinity,” she pleaded, hating the sound and wanting more of it.
Trinity slowed immediately, glancing up. “What do you need?”
That almost ruined Yolanda.
Not because it was filthy. Because Trinity stopped and asked like Yolanda mattered beyond the passion. Yolanda swallowed, chest aching and it had nothing to do with arousal and everything to do with the stupid, inconvenient reality of being loved well.
“I need you inside me,” she admitted.
Trinity’s grip on Yolanda’s thighs tightened, and Yolanda felt the shift in her before she moved. The nervousness. The want. The terrifying little flicker of awe that crossed Trinity’s face before she tried to hide it.
Yolanda reached down and touched her cheek. “Come here.”
Trinity crawled up her body, and Yolanda immediately missed the heat of her mouth, which was unreasonable since she had asked her to stop.
Yolanda arranged her head on a pillow and clutched Trinity’s hips, letting her hands rest over the harness straps. The material pressed into Trinity’s skin, leaving faint marks where it hugged her thighs. Yolanda traced one with her thumb, and Trinity shivered.
“Does it feel good?” Yolanda asked.
Trinity nodded, then seemed to realize Yolanda wanted words. “Yeah. When it moves against me.”
Yolanda’s mouth went dry again.
She stroked the base of the strap, watching Trinity’s stomach tense in response. “Good.”
Trinity made a wounded sound. “You can’t just say good like that.”
“I can.” Yolanda gazed up at her. “I just did.”
Trinity exhaled through her nose, clearly trying to recover. Poor thing. Yolanda almost felt bad.
She relaxed, pulling Trinity with her until Trinity settled between her legs. The strap dragged against Yolanda’s inner thigh, slick from where Trinity’s mouth had been, and Yolanda’s breath stuttered. Trinity paused instinctively, her face hovering above Yolanda’s.
“Still okay?”
Yolanda wrapped her arms around Trinity’s neck and pulled her into a kiss. “Yes.”
Trinity kissed her back deeply, one hand bracing beside Yolanda’s head while the other descended between them. Yolanda felt the head of the cock slide through her lips, gathering wetness, and her hips lifted before she could stop them. Trinity inhaled sharply against her mouth.
“Fuck,” Trinity whispered.
Yolanda’s chest warmed, but then Trinity angled the strap against her entrance and all warmth became heat. The pressure made Yolanda’s fingers tighten at the back of Trinity’s neck. She had wanted this. She had asked for it. Still, the first slow push made her whole body tense beneath Trinity.
Trinity stopped immediately.
Yolanda breathed out, frustrated by her own body, by the intensity of the stretch, by the softness in Trinity’s eyes.
“I’m okay,” Yolanda said before Trinity could ask.
“I know.” Trinity kissed the corner of her mouth. “I’m just not in a rush.”
Yolanda’s throat tightened. This woman was going to kill her with patience, which was offensive considering she had none in any other area of her life.
“You were almost an hour late,” Yolanda reminded her, mostly because she needed something to do with the feeling.
Trinity’s mouth curved. “And yet here I am, being considerate.”
“Bare minimum.”
“My fault. I forgot romance makes you suspicious.”
Yolanda laughed softly, then gasped when Trinity pushed in farther.
The toy stretched her slowly, filling her inch by inch, and Yolanda’s hands slid from Trinity’s neck to her back, nails pressing into pale skin. It was a lot. The pressure, the slick slide, Trinity’s careful breathing above her, the harness shifting against Trinity with every movement. Yolanda could feel Trinity trembling too, could see the effort it took for her to go slow, and that knowledge made something molten move through her.
Trinity sank deeper.
Yolanda’s head lolled back against the pillow.
“Baby,” Trinity whispered.
Yolanda hated how much she loved when Trinity called her that. Hated that it made her feel held even while Trinity was penetrating her.
“Keep going,” Yolanda urged.
Trinity was careful until she bottomed out. Yolanda’s breath left her in a shaky rush, her walls adjusting around the fullness. Trinity stayed still, forehead dropping to Yolanda’s shoulder, her own breathing unsteady.
“Are you okay?” Yolanda asked this time, because Trinity had gone quiet.
Trinity laughed softly against her skin. “You’re asking me if I’m okay while I’m inside you?”
“Yes.”
Trinity lifted her head.
The humor softened out of her face when she saw Yolanda was serious. Then her expression went tender; it made Yolanda want to look away.
“I’m okay,” Trinity murmured. “More than okay.”
Yolanda nodded, her hands sliding down to Trinity’s hips. “Then move.”
Trinity’s eyes darkened.
She pulled back slowly, then thrust in again.
Yolanda’s mouth opened around a moan she couldn’t stop. The strap dragged against her perfectly, deep, and Trinity’s hips jerked slightly at the same time, the harness clearly pressing against her clit with the motion. Yolanda felt her own pleasure sharpen at the sight of Trinity affected by it. Trinity was attempting to concentrate on Yolanda, trying to be attentive and controlled, but her body kept betraying her.
Beautiful.
Annoying, but beautiful.
“You feel it too,” Yolanda murmured.
Trinity’s jaw clenched. “Yolanda.”
“What?”
“You know what.”
Yolanda slid one hand between their bodies, pressing against the front of the harness where it rubbed Trinity with each thrust. Trinity’s arms trembled.
“Fuck,” Trinity gasped.
Yolanda smiled despite the moan that escaped her when Trinity thrust harder.
Trinity dropped her head, kissing Yolanda hard. Yolanda accepted it because she was generous, and also because Trinity’s mouth on hers while her cock pumped inside her was enough to make her forget whatever smartass thing she had been preparing to say. The rhythm changed, Trinity finding an angle that made Yolanda’s thighs tighten around her hips.
Yolanda broke the kiss with a gasp.
Trinity noticed immediately. “There?”
Yolanda nodded, then gripped Trinity’s hair and pulled her closer. “There. Don’t make me say it twice.”
Trinity smiled against her mouth. “You just did.”
Yolanda bit her lip again causing Trinity’s next thrust to stutter.
Yolanda’s hand had a firm grasp in the back of Trinity’s hair, keeping her close enough that their noses brushed, close enough for Yolanda to feel the shaky breath Trinity tried to hide against her mouth.
“Harder,” Yolanda urged, more breath than anything.
Trinity’s eyes lifted to hers, searching. “Yeah?”
Yolanda nodded, dragging her nails lightly down Trinity’s back until Trinity shivered above her. “Yes, mi cielo. Just like that.”
The praise hit exactly where Yolanda knew it would.
Trinity’s mouth parted, her hips pressing forward in a deeper thrust that made Yolanda’s back arch off the bed. Heat rushed through her so quickly she nearly lost the thread of her own thought, her thighs going taut around Trinity’s hips as the toy slid into her again, wet and perfect. Trinity looked wrecked by the sound Yolanda made, like pleasing her was doing more damage than the harness rubbing between her own thighs.
Yolanda loved that about her.
“You’re doing so good,” Yolanda breathed out. Trinity’s rhythm staggered for half a stroke, her jaw tightening, her eyes going unfocused before she forced herself back into the motion. “That’s it. Good girl.”
Trinity whimpered and her forehead thudded against Yolanda’s shoulder. She could be unbearable in every other room on earth, could argue with senior residents, could cut her own hair and show up late with dinner and a dick, but praise made her melt. Praise made her honest.
Yolanda snuck one hand down to Trinity’s waist, fingers gripping the harness strap where it crossed her hip. “Don’t hide from me now.”
Trinity lifted her head, pupils blown wide and dazed. “I’m not hiding.”
“Liar.” Yolanda kissed her, slow and filthy, towing her teeth over Trinity’s bottom lip before letting it go. “You like when I tell you how good you are.”
Trinity’s cheeks flushed deeper: she was close to resembling a fucking tomato, which was absurd considering she was currently inside Yolanda. “Yolanda.”
“You do.”
“Fuck.”
“That wasn’t a denial.”
Trinity thrust into her harder. Yolanda’s breath caught, her fingers digging into Trinity’s hip as the strap hit that same devastating angle. The air grew hot around her, her own voice breaking loose before she could control it.
“There,” she whined. “Fuck, baby, right there.”
Trinity maintained the angle. She was trying so hard. Yolanda could see it in her face, in the concentration pinched between her brows, in the slight shake of her shoulders. She wanted to be good for her. Wanted to give Yolanda exactly what she asked for, and that observation sank straight into Yolanda’s body with deadly precision.
So Yolanda gave her something worse.
“Cum in me,” she whispered.
Trinity stopped breathing.
Yolanda felt it. The way Trinity’s whole body locked above her, the way her hips stuttered, the way her eyes snapped to Yolanda’s like she needed to confirm she had heard correctly even though they both knew she had. They both knew what that meant between them. It wasn’t literal. It had never needed to be literal. It was the yearning behind it, the naughty little fantasy they had already learned how to use against each other.
“Yolanda,” Trinity said, and her voice was so thin.
Yolanda wrapped her legs tighter around Trinity’s waist, pulling her deeper. The movement made them both gasp; Trinity from the harness pressing hard against her, Yolanda from the fullness that sparked a hot throb of pleasure through her fluttering cunt.
“You heard me,” Yolanda taunted, brushing her thumb over Trinity’s pink cheek. “I want you to fill me up.”
Trinity’s eyes nearly rolled back.
Beautiful.
Absolutely fucking beautiful.
“You’re so mean,” Trinity grunted, but her hips were already moving again, deeper, reckless, the strap sliding into Yolanda with an obscene wet noise that made heat crawl up her spine.
“And you’re so good,” Yolanda emphasized, kissing the corner of her mouth when Trinity whimpered. “You’re so good for me, mi amor.”
Trinity’s thrusts altered.
There was nothing polished about it after that. She fucked Yolanda like she was trying to obey and survive at the same time, hips snapping harder, faster, breath catching every time the harness rubbed her right. Yolanda held onto her, drew her nails down her back, and let the pleasure climb because Trinity looked completely ruined above her.
Yolanda needed her like that.
Needed the flushed face, the trembling arms, the helpless little sounds Trinity tried to swallow before Yolanda pulled them out of her anyway. Needed Trinity fucking into her and looking at her like she would give her anything she asked for.
“That’s it,” Yolanda motivated, her voice breaking around the next brutal ram. “Don’t stop. Give it to me.”
Trinity made a sound against her mouth that almost pushed Yolanda over by itself.
“Fuck, baby,” Trinity gasped. “You can’t–”
“I can.” Yolanda tensed around the toy as much as her body would allow, taking some sharp satisfaction in the way Trinity’s whole frame shuddered. “You know I can.”
Trinity kissed her because she clearly had no answer, and Yolanda let herself be kissed. Let Trinity’s mouth press messy and desperate against hers, let Trinity’s dick fill her again and again, let the fantasy sit lewd and impossible between them without needing to make sense. It didn’t need to make sense. It just needed to make Trinity’s hips lurch and Yolanda’s body tighten around nothing real and everything wanted.
“Cum in me,” Yolanda instructed again, less of a whisper this time, rougher, closer to a cry. “Please, mi cielo.”
The please was what did it.
Yolanda saw it hit Trinity straight in the chest, watched her face fold around the attempt to stay composed – the pleasure finally yanked out of her. Trinity’s hips ground forward, deep and shaking, the harness pressed tight between them as she moaned.
Yolanda came immediately after.
The orgasm shattered through her, burning and consuming, causing her cunt to fasten around the silicone as she released. Her back bowed off the bed, a broken sound tearing raw from her throat while Trinity kept propelling, messier, helping her ride through it with erratic little thrusts that made the fantasy burn hotter instead of fading. Yolanda’s nails hauled down Trinity’s back, and Trinity moaned in response, still grinding into her with the kind of desperate pressure that told Yolanda she was close.
Yolanda clung to her, shaking with aftershocks. “Good girl,” she breathed, because she knew exactly what it would do. “That’s it. Come for me.”
Trinity’s entire body quivered above her.
Yolanda felt her fall apart more than she saw it; the desperate grind of her hips, the wrecked sound she buried against Yolanda’s neck, the way she held Yolanda like she needed somewhere safe to put the force of it. Yolanda was still trembling when Trinity slowed, breathing hard, her face tucked into Yolanda’s neck like she was trying to recover without being perceived. Yolanda let her have it for three breaths. Maybe four. She was generous and recently – blissfully – climaxed, not dead.
Then she tugged Trinity’s hair.
Trinity lifted her head, eyes dazed. “What?”
Yolanda stared at her. “Take it off.”
Trinity blinked.
“The harness,” Yolanda clarified, already reaching down to touch the strap at Trinity’s hip. “I’m not done with you.”
Trinity flushed. “That sounds threatening.”
“It is.”
“Hot.”
Yolanda’s eyebrows rose.
Trinity immediately looked like she regretted having a mouth.
“You’re not going to say something stupid after fucking me like that and expect me to let it pass,” Yolanda warned.
Trinity’s expression gentled despite the warning. “I like making you feel good.”
Fuck.
Yolanda’s heart did something humiliating: it skipped a beat.
She leaned up to kiss Trinity, unhurried, her hand soothing along Trinity’s side before finding the harness buckle. Trinity helped her remove it, fingers clumsy and cheeks still flushed. The strap was discarded near the edge of the bed, and Yolanda barely spared it another glance before pulling Trinity back down.
Trinity came willingly, but there was a new shyness to her now that made Yolanda ache. Without the harness, without the little layer of performance, she looked softer. More exposed. Her thighs pressed together as she settled beside Yolanda, and Yolanda reached between them before Trinity could pretend she wasn’t still desperate.
She was soaked.
Yolanda’s fingers slid through her slick folds, and Trinity gasped so sharply that Yolanda’s own stomach clenched in response.
“Mi cielo,” Yolanda murmured, almost amused. “You’re this wet?”
Trinity covered her face with one hand. “Don’t say it like you’re conducting research.”
“I’m making an observation.”
“You’re being evil.”
Yolanda stroked her clit with sluggish pressure, watching Trinity’s hips raise into her touch. “Maybe.”
Trinity’s hand fell away from her face, her eyes already unfocused. Yolanda kissed her cheek, then her mouth, swallowing the next moan as her fingers worked her consistently. Trinity was sensitive from the harness, from the friction, holding herself back while fucking Yolanda, and the realization made Yolanda feel warm: it had nothing to do with smugness.
Well.
Some smugness. She was only human.
“Yolanda,” Trinity pleaded, hips rutting helplessly against her hand.
“I’ve got you.”
Trinity’s breath hitched.
Yolanda felt it more than heard it. The way Trinity’s body reacted to reassurance, to being held through something instead of teased through all of it. Yolanda’s teasing softened, replaced by a steadier stroke, a slower kiss.
“I’ve got you,” she repeated, because Trinity needed to hear it, and because Yolanda needed to say it without flinching. “You did so good for me.”
Trinity came with a sound that broke against Yolanda’s mouth, her body shivering hard as pleasure wrecked its way through her. Yolanda held her through it, fingers slowing but not leaving until Trinity’s hand closed around her wrist. Then she stopped, pressing a kiss to Trinity’s forehead, her cheek, the corner of her mouth.
For a while, neither of them said anything.
The television continued its dramatic nonsense from the living room. Nova scratched once at the door, then walked away like she had better things to do.
Trinity laughed weakly into Yolanda’s shoulder.
Yolanda stroked the back of her terrible haircut. “What?”
“Your cat hates me sometimes.”
“My cat has taste.”
Trinity lifted her head, offended and exhausted. “You’re really saying that after I just fucked the shit out of you?”
Yolanda stared at her.
Trinity’s grin widened slowly.
“You’re going to be annoying about this,” Yolanda realized.
“I’m going to be so annoying.”
Yolanda sighed, but her hand kept running through Trinity’s hair. She looked at the recently clipped curls, the splotchy colored cheeks, the smug little mouth, and felt that same impossible fondness spread through her again.
Her therapist would probably call it growth.
Yolanda called it being fucked.
“I love you,” Trinity murmured, quieter, like she had set the words down between them instead of throwing them.
Yolanda’s hand stilled briefly in her hair, then she leaned down and kissed her.
“I love you too,” she expressed against Trinity’s mouth.
Trinity smiled, soft and sleepy and too proud of herself.
Yolanda should have told her to stop looking so pleased. Instead, she pulled her closer, Trinity burrowing into her chest.
It was ridiculous.
It was messy.
It was hers.