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first it was fun (now it's fireworks)

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if you wanna be my lady, if you wanna be my baby, if you wanna be my girl

“lady” – blake rose


After the first kiss—

After winning the game and sneaking away from the party; after the stolen bottle of champagne, sitting on the edge of the swimming pool; after Tobin saying could have known you were a bit of a good girl and the way the words hit hard and hot between your legs; after leaning in and grabbing her shirt with your hand and just kissing her—


It’s like she’s unable to let go of you.

“Tobin…” The elevator pings. “We’re—this is—”

You try to pull back, but she’s already closing the space again, kissing you so hotly that for moments and moments, you forget you’re in an elevator, forget you’re in a hotel with your entire team, forget you’re—

The elevator pings again, reminding you, and you force yourself to pull back, whispering breathlessly against her lips, “Tobin, we’re here. This is our floor.”

She steps back, then, but only because you’ve got your hand rested against her sternum and you put the slightest bit of pressure on it. The look on Tobin’s face makes your whole body simmer with heat. She’s so unfairly attractive; her eyes on you like that, her lips—which were on yours only seconds ago—looking so thoroughly kissed, her whole body still close and in your space.

You feel shy and brave at the same time.

“Right,” Tobin mumbles, a little sheepishly. “Right. Didn’t realize.”

She takes a step backwards, out into the hallway. But then, before you fully realize what she’s doing, she reaches forward, brushes her fingers along the side of your arm and then takes a hold of your hand, pulling you slowly out of the elevator with her.

You’re expecting her to drop your hand once you’ve stepped outside. Even though it’s late, there might be people around and you haven’t—

Well, you haven’t discussed how to deal with any of that. How to deal with the team and the games and the fact that yesterday you were friends, teammates, something else, and now you’ve kissed, and you’re still friends, you think—still teammates, of course. But you’re also taking her out next Saturday, and neither of you seem to have any idea what that means. 

(You’re thinking we kissed, you’re thinking we actually kissed, you’re thinking we kissed at the pool and then we kissed in the elevator and now she’s holding my hand and oh god she’s holding my hand—)

“What are you doing?” you say softly, as she begins to lead you through the hotel corridor.

Tobin blushes, but tries to sound confident. “Walking you to your room.”

You feel the corners of your mouth pull upwards. You feel like you’re fourteen years old and getting to slow dance with the person you like for the first time. Like you’re seventeen and sharing milkshakes on a third date. Like you’re twenty and really, really into someone in a way you haven’t felt before.

You feel all of it at the same time—and so much more. 

Tobin brushes her thumb over your hand and there’s something really nice about it, about the way she doesn’t let go until you’ve reached the door of your hotel room, the way she doesn’t let go no matter who might step out into the hallway at any moment. 

“We’re here,” you say, a little unnecessarily, because you’re already in front of the door.

Tobin still hasn’t let go of your hand.

“Do you think Julie will be asleep already?” she says.

You fumble a little with the hem of your shirt. “I don’t know. I’ve got—I’ve got no idea what time it is even.”

Tobin smiles a little bit at that. “Me neither.”

There’s a slight stretch of silence and you can feel your heart racing in your chest, can feel the tension building. Tobin is looking at your lips and suddenly you’re nervous again, so you blurt out, “And Allie?”

“Hm?” Tobin glances back up from your mouth. “Allie?”

“Do you think she’ll be asleep already?

Tobin shrugs. “No idea.”

Your hand is getting just a little bit sweaty with the nerves, but Tobin is still holding onto it tightly, fingers intertwined with yours—unwilling to let go of it just yet. She swallows, drawing your gaze to her throat, and you can’t believe a minute ago she had you pressed against the wall of the elevator, her tongue in your mouth, and now she’s looking soft and shy—

“Thanks for walking me back,” you say, your voice a little breathless.

It’s a little ridiculous.

It’s a hotel, for fuck’s sake—

“Of course,” Tobin says. “I hope you have really sweet dreams.”

She squeezes your hand, and then leans in, kissing your cheek, light and quick. It makes your heart race so fast that you’re pretty sure she should be able to feel it somehow.

“Sweet dreams,” you whisper. “I’ll see you at breakfast.”

Tobin smiles, steps back, doesn’t let you go of your hand until she absolutely has to, her fingertips brushing against yours for just a second longer before she pulls it back. “Good night, Chris.”

You watch her disappear around the corner and then you make your way inside the hotel room. Julie is already in bed, fast asleep. You quickly get changed in the bathroom, careful not to make too much noise. When you catch sight of yourself in the mirror, it makes you blush.

Your hair is curly, messy strands fallen from your ponytail; your eyes are just the slightest bit wide; your mouth a little swollen.

You look pretty and happy and kissed.

When you climb into bed, you grab your phone from the night stand, ready to check which alarms you set for tomorrow morning. You’re considering turning them off when you see her name in bold letters lit up on your screen.

She texted you.

You saw her only a few minutes ago and she already texted you.

It flutters low in your stomach.

With your heart racing high in your throat, you slide your thumb over the screen, opening the message.

It reads: so this might be a little crazy but i miss u already.

You stare at it for almost a minute, feeling so giddy and good and—

(You don’t want to think it but you know that it’s happening, that you’re getting there real soon and real fast and maybe you don’t want to think it yet, but your whole body knows that you’re totally falling in—)

With the biggest smile on your face you type back: Breakfast tomorrow at 8? Just you and me?

Tobin texts back right away. 8? ur lucky i like you chris

You can’t stop smiling. I like you too.

Before you can stop yourself you add: So much.

It takes a little bit longer. You’re pretty sure she’s already put her phone away and gone to bed, and you’re about to do the same thing when your screen lights up again.

can’t wait to hold ur hand again

It sets your whole body on fire.    

It has you thinking that, despite the fact that it’s only the beginning, despite the fact that tonight is the first night you’ve kissed, despite the fact that you’re not even together in any official sort of way, it almost sounds like—

Like, now that she finally has you, she’s not going to let you go any time soon.


When you wake up in her bed, it’s so early that it’s still dark.

You fell asleep naked last night—after the date and the wine and some of the best sex you’ve had in your entire life—and now the sheets are soft against your skin, the wind coming in through the half open window cold enough to make you shiver.

Tobin’s on her stomach next to you, still sleeping, with her face half hidden in the pillow, breathing slow and steady. She’s close—not exactly cuddling you, but still pressed against your side, leg against yours, her lips almost brushing the skin of your shoulder, her hand—

She’s holding your hand.

Almost accidentally so. Her palm is only barely brushing yours, her pinky curled around your index finger.

But still—she’s holding your hand, and you’re glad it’s so dark because the thought that you had her swearing out loud and coming against your mouth only hours ago and now she’s holding your hand, makes you blush.

More wind blows in through the window and you shiver harder.

You don’t want to get up, you really don’t. But you also know that if you don’t close the window right now, you’re going to be too cold to fall asleep again, so…

With a huff of frustration you pull your hand back from under hers, careful not to wake her as you slide out from under the blankets. You quickly tip toe to the window, closing it as quietly as you can, before hurrying back to the bed, hoping she hasn’t noticed you—

“You okay?” Tobin’s voice is rough and sleepy—and fuck, that’s something you could get used to.

You quickly slide back into the bed, mumbling, “Yeah, just… just got a little cold.”

Tobin hums, rolling over until she’s on her back. You’re facing her sideways, too shy to curl yourself into her body like you want to. But then Tobin’s hand brushes your hip and she mumbles, “Well, come here, then…”

You shiver, feel the heat of the words through your body despite the cold air in the room. You can’t believe she has this effect on you.

But then you’re shifting forward, wrapping your naked leg over hers and sliding your arm around her waist. She pulls you close immediately, her body soft and warm and heavy with sleep.

“Hi,” she mumbles into your hair.

You’re blushing so hard. “Hi.”

She takes the slowest of breaths, wrapping her body even tighter against yours, and on impulse, you brush your lips against her throat. Tobin makes a soft noise; cute and a little surprised, like it feels really good, and so you do it again, kissing her neck, her collarbone, the soft spot in between, which makes Tobin’s breath hitch—

She’s stroking her hand up and down your back. “Feeling warmer yet?”

You smile into her skin. “Slowly getting there.” Another kiss against the spot that makes her shiver. “Maybe you should try a little harder…”

“Oh?” Tobin’s hand slides lower on your back, over the curve of your ass. “What do you suggest?”

You pull your mouth away from her neck, angling your head until your lips are closer to her own. The tension shoots up instantly.

Tobin licks at her bottom lip, a little nervously, and you whisper, “I think you know.”

It’s invitation enough.

She kisses you slowly, nipping at your bottom lip, before sliding her tongue into your mouth and deepening the kiss.

It’s so new still, so good and new and hot—your whole body simmers with it. 

You spend a few moments kissing each other; Tobin’s arms go a little tighter around your body, you push yourself up, shifting until you’re a bit more on top. It stays soft, though. There’s a sort of slow heat, it doesn’t have to be rushed. You’ve already had a whole night of touching each other desperately, so now you can be soft.

Tobin sighs against your lips.

“God…” she mumbles. “Can’t believe you’re really here. Like, in my house.”

You kiss her jaw. “In your bed.”

At that, she rolls you over, smiling down at you now that you’re on your back, under her. Her leg slides easily between yours. “In my arms…”  

You grin, because it’s cute and a little cheesy, and Tobin knows because she’s giving you this cheeky sort of smile, leaning down to scatter kisses across your neck, your shoulders, before pulling back, making eye contact again.

It makes you feel a little bold with the way she’s looking at you, all sweet admiration.

“I like being here,” you whisper. “In your space.” Your voice goes soft. “I like being yours.”  

And, oh

It’s beautiful.

Watching the effect of that play out on her face. The way her lips part and her cheeks go red, the way her whole body responds to something as simple as the word yours.

You pull her down again, kiss her a little harder.

You feel warm all over.


She holds the door of the car open for you.

“Where are we going?” you say, pausing for a second.

She shrugs with a grin. “Get inside and maybe you’ll find out.”

You want to pout, but you can’t stop yourself from smiling. You can’t stop yourself from looking at her, feeling light and good and a little shaken in the best way possible. You’d think that from playing soccer together for years, your body would not be this responsive to every single thing she does, but it is; you’ve got butterflies like you’ve never had before.

She lets you pick the music as a compromise, then drives onto the freeway and reaches out a little hesitantly for your hand.

You take it with a grin. “This is not very safe.”

Tobin mumbles something about living in the moment and it being worth the risk, and part of you wants to tell her that her reasoning is ridiculous, but the other part really loves how her hand feels in yours, so you squeeze it and let it slide.

Once you get off the freeway again, you’re starting to get a feeling of where this is going, but Tobin ignores your every guess until you’re parked so close to the beach that there’s really no other option.

“Date night watching the sunset, huh?” you smirk. “Do people know you’re this much of a romantic?”

Tobin shrugs like it doesn’t matter, but you can tell that she’s a little self-conscious about it, so before you’ve even made your way down to the sand, you wrap your arm around her waist and press a kiss to her cheek.

“I love it,” you mumble. “Love being here with you.”

She smiles, wraps her arm around your shoulder and leads you down to a nice spot closer to the ocean. You cuddle into her side, smiling when she leaves her arm around your shoulder, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

You talk about L.A. and growing up, and Tobin smiles at the stories, tells you little bits and pieces of her own life in return. She’s stroking absentminded patterns into your shoulder when she says, “We should go surfing once.”

“Absolutely not.”

She turns to look at you, actually shocked. “What?”

You laugh. “No, really. I can’t surf. I can’t.”

Tobin’s eyes are wide. “But Chris—” she says, like it’s the most unbelievable thing she’s ever heard. “I can teach you.”

You shake your head.

“Come on!” she continues. “It would be so much fun! We could go away from the city—spend a few days doing something other than running around on a soccer pitch. Think about how tan we’d get.”

“You can try to convince me as much as you like, but the answer will still be no.”

Tobin sputters and you laugh even harder.

“Christen,” she says, her eyes sparkling a little bit. “We’ll go with just the two of us.” She arches her eyebrow. “Find beaches that no one else goes to…”  

“Nice try. It’s not going to work.”

Chris!” She laughs, then bites down on her bottom lip, and says with a smirk, “Wow, I can’t believe my girlfriend is robbing me of one of the best things in my life.”   

Your stomach flips hard. “What?”

“Can’t believe you don’t want to go—”

“No,” you cut in, your voice shaking just a little bit. “What did you say?”

Tobin looks at you, frowning slightly. “What do you mean?”

“You called me—” Your breathing hitches. “You said—”

Suddenly, she’s blushing hard. “Oh—uh—I mean…” She takes her arm from your shoulder, hand shooting up to run her fingers through her hair, nervous all of a sudden. “I mean, I assumed you were—are you not? Are we not—”

Your heart is racing really fast. Your whole body feels like it’s pushing itself towards her. You can’t believe she said it, just like that. You want to kiss her so much that it almost hurts.

“Sorry, I guess I just—” Tobin is still rambling. “I figured, with how things have been, we were, but—”

“Tobin,” you say. “Shut up.”

Her eyes go wide, and then you kiss her; love the way she gasps into your mouth a little, love the way she catches up and kisses you back just as hotly.

“So—” She breaks away after a moment, looking at you. “Does this mean—are you saying you do want to be my—”

“Yes,” you say, smiling so hard. “Yes, of course I want to be your damn girlfriend.”

Tobin smiles so wide that it’s blinding. “Hey,” she says, smirking. “That’s my girlfriend you’re talking about.”

You kiss her to shut her up. You kiss her because you’re so in love. You kiss her because you’re her girlfriend, and somehow she already thought you were—and the fact that she never even doubted it, makes you want it even more.  


There’s this thing you’ve noticed.

When you wear Tobin’s clothes, she gets possessive.

First, it’s not very obvious. You borrow her hoodies whenever you’re watching Netflix and you get a little cold; you wrap yourself in her towels whenever you stay over at her place and shower in the morning; you steal the occasional pair of socks.

And sure—Tobin will smile at you a little more or stare a little longer, or laugh in case of the socks, but that’s part of what you’re doing, anyway; part of spending more and more time together, part of being in a relationship, part of falling in love.

It’s not until you wear her soccer shirt, that you really notice what it does to her.

You’re in her kitchen, cutting a mango into smaller pieces to mix with your yoghurt, humming along to some ridiculous country song that’s playing on the radio, wearing nothing but your black underwear and a red Heath #17 shirt. You’d picked it out of her closet because it was the first thing you could find, and you wanted to wear something more comfortable than the dress that Tobin had taken from your body and dropped on her bedroom floor the night before.

It’s just a soccer shirt.

It’s your girlfriend’s soccer shirt—whatever.


You spin around, your heart speeding up a little at the sight of Tobin leaning against the wall, watching you. She’s in shorts and a tank top, taking you in with something in her eyes that makes your skin run a little hot, though you’re not really sure why.

“Morning,” you say, trying not to smile too hard.

Tobin steps forward, dragging her gaze up and down your body. “Good morning to you.”

She brings her hands to rest on your hips, leaning in to kiss your cheek, and then lower, where your jaw meets your neck. You sigh, arching your neck and leaning into it, loving the way her body folds its way around yours so naturally.

“You’re wearing my shirt,” Tobin mumbles into your skin, her voice lower than usual. It sounds somewhat surprised and somewhat—


Well, it makes your cheeks go hot.

You push your body a little closer against hers, trying to keep the coyness from your voice, but failing, as you say, “So?”

Tobin’s mouth is back on your neck. “Looks good on you,” she says. “Really good, actually…”

One of her hands slides up from where it’s resting on your hip, fingers slipping under the hem of your shirt. She teasingly brushes the tips of them over your stomach, before leaning away for a moment, staring at the back of the shirt, where her name and number are so clearly on display. The pressure of her fingers increases just a little bit and she mumbles, so soft that you can barely hear it, “Chris… seriously, fuck…”

A hard shiver courses through your body.

You bite down on your bottom lip.

Then, you slowly turn around until you’re facing her. The look in Tobin’s eyes is heated—the way it gets when you catch her staring at you during practice; the way it gets when you haven’t seen each other in weeks and you’re in the car together after she picks you up from the airport, barely able to wait until you get home; the way it gets when you strip down for her and let her touch you wherever she wants. You realize it almost instantly; why this seems to be getting to her.

“Do you like seeing your name on my back?” you say, leaning in a bit closer.

Tobin swallows hard. You trail your fingers up her arm, playing a little with the neckline of her tank top.

“Do you like that I’m in nothing but your shirt?” you continue, stepping forward so she can feel your bare thighs against hers.

“Christen…” Tobin mumbles, her voice a little rougher than before. 

“What would your fans think?” you say with a smirk, knowing you’ve hit the perfect spot when Tobin grabs at your hip a little harder, a little more desperate. “What would they say if they knew I’d be wearing this? Would they know what it does to you?” You ghost your lips over her neck, pressing hot kisses against her skin, brushing them against her earlobe as you whisper, “How much it’s turning you on…”

Tobin groans.

You get the sudden urge to make her lose control. To have her be the one to give in, to admit to it.

You smirk, slowly turning around again, pretending to get back to making breakfast like nothing happened. You sweep your hair forward over your shoulder, though, purposely putting the Heath on the back clearly on display.

Then, you lean forward with your elbows on the kitchen counter, knowing she’s staring at your ass when you smirk back at her over your shoulder. “Does it make you want to touch me, baby?” you whisper. “To make me yours?”

It’s enough.   

With a groan, Tobin’s hands are on you—and everything else blurs.


It doesn’t take long for the team to figure out what’s going on.

You’ve got the feeling that most of them have been suspecting things for a while now. It’s not that surprising, really, what with all the time you’ve been spending together, how you’re always drifting towards each other during trainings, the fact that your frequent flying points from trips back and forth to Portland are rising exponentially. You’ve had feelings for her for years and you’re sure that anyone who is close to you, knows on some level, already.

But lately, things have been a little bit different.

It’s not a conscious change. It’s not that you’ve sat down together to discuss how open or closed off you’re going to be about it with the team. But ever since things have gotten serious, Tobin has been way more… obvious, about things.

“Babe, we can’t—”

She shushes you, smile all wide and dazzling, as she backs you into the wall. Her hair is down, and you have to fight the urge to run your fingers through it, knowing you’ll only mess it up, knowing that in less than five minutes you need to be—

Tobin’s hands are on your hips. She leans in and presses a kiss to your neck, slow and wet.

You have to swallow the whimper. You can feel the intake of her breath at the sound; it’s making it hard to think. “We’ve got training in—”

“Shh,” Tobin mumbles. “I’m just kissing you a bit. We’ve got time.”

You huff because lately, every time you and Tobin are just kissing a bit, it tends to lead to something else. But then Tobin’s mouth opens against the side of your neck and she licks at your skin, and it becomes harder to fight against it.

Her fingers are skimming under the hem of your jersey, and you really do have to force yourself not to moan—especially when Tobin scrapes her teeth over your skin, sucks a little harder, and you feel your whole body buck into it.

You bite down on your bottom lip, and Tobin smirks.

“Quiet, baby…” she whispers.

You groan in frustration, but manage to cut the sound off at the last second. Tobin smiles into your neck, kisses your jaw, your cheek, whispers, “That’s my good girl.”


That’s unfair.

You try to tell her as much, but she brings her mouth back down, bites a little harder, then sucks a kiss into your neck—the pain sharp for just a second, before she smooths it over with her tongue.

All protest dies in your throat.

It’s like she knows what’s happening, because she hums a little into your skin, her fingers sliding up higher under your shirt as she mumbles, “That feel good?”

Right after she says it, she sucks on your pulse point again—with so much purpose that it makes your body jerk a little bit involuntarily.

She should not be able to get you here this easily.

But she is.

“Tobin…” Your voice is hoarse.

She does it again, and again, working you up with her mouth on your neck, whispering things into your skin that make you shiver.

She’s infuriatingly right about only kissing you a bit, because her hands never stray from your waist, and she ignores every attempt of yours to try and get her thigh between your legs, to kiss her mouth, to have her do anything than mark up your neck and—

Oh, fuck.

It hits you hard and sudden between your legs—why she’s doing what she’s doing.

When she finally pulls back, the look in Tobin’s eyes proves your point immediately. She’s grinning smugly, like she can’t believe she’s got you here in front of her like this; panting and turned on and equal parts frustrated and in love with her. She tips your chin up with her fingers, looking at your neck.

“Sorry,” she mumbles, not sounding very sorry at all. “You’ve got—”

She cuts herself off, sounding breathless. Rather than finishing the sentence, she brings up the tips of her fingers and softly touches them to the hickeys on your neck.

The skin is sensitive—you can’t suppress the sharp intake of breath.

Immediately, Tobin’s eyes go a little wide. “Does it hurt?”

You shake your head, feeling hot and shaky and so goddamn into her.

“Everyone will see,” you say, low, your voice just a little bit of a challenge. Tobin swallows hard and you push your hips into her, licking at your bottom lip. “But then again, maybe that is what you want?”

Tobin’s cheeks go a little darker.

Two can play this game, you think.

“It is, isn’t it?” you say. “I think you want people to see. I think you love that you’re the only one who gets to do that… who gets to mark me up like I belong to you…” 

She moves even more into your space, suddenly looking flustered.

You bring your mouth up to her ear, whisper, “It’s a good thing I like it. It’s a good thing I’d let you mark me anywhere you’d like…”


She swears under her breath and then kisses you—for real. Her mouth is hot and wet against yours, her whole body pushed into it.

It’s a while before you make it out onto the pitch for warm-up.


Damn—” Kelley, of course, is the first one to notice. She stalks over to where you’re stretching and whips your ponytail back over your shoulder. “Oh my god, Press, it’s like you’ve been attacked by a bear—”

Your whole body flushes.

You try to swap her hand away. “Get off me.”

Kelley does not.

“Oh my god…” Her eyes are wide. She whistles low under her breath. “I mean, I figured that you and Tobin would be into some kinky stuff, for sure—it’s always the ones you don’t expect it from, you know—but this is absolutely outrageous.

You push her away, fighting your blush. “It’s nothing. Kell, it’s just a hickey.”

“Just a hickey?” Kelley’s eyes go wide. “Have you even looked in a mirror? Rose! Rose, come look at this.”

She grabs Rose’s arm and drags her over. Of course, the moment Rose walks over, Mal walks over, too—and then Sam joins and Lindsey joins, and then Sonnett is pushing Kelley out of the way to get a closer look, and you think that this might be where you die. On a soccer pitch. Surrounded by your idiot teammates who are acting like they’ve never seen a hickey before.

“Fuck all of you,” you mumble, trying to sound strict, trying to sound like you’re serious. The corners of your mouth keep pulling up, though. 

Sonnett chokes on a laugh. “Look at you swearing, Press. What is happening to you? Another result of Tobin’s bad influence?”   

You push her shoulder, before grabbing a soccer ball, and breaking away from the group.

“No, wait!” Mal yells after you. “We have questions, Christen.”

You fight your smile, leaving your friends to their jokes. As you make your way over to where Becky and Abby are already kicking the ball around, you catch sight of Tobin, though. She’s looking right back at you, small smirk on her face.

It charges a shiver down your spine.

She loves this; you know she does. She loves knowing that you’re blushing over her; that she’s on your mind even when she’s on the other side of the field; that the rest of the team is just as aware of this.

You make a mental note to get her back for this.

The more you are figuring out how this works, the more fun you could have with it.


The opportunity presents itself sooner than you thought.

There’s some media event that you all need to be present at, the whole team; you have to dress up and there are a lot of cameras and people more important to you. The day is long and kind of exhausting, but at the same time, you like to be involved with these kind of things once in a while—to feel pretty and seen and wanted. Besides that, the bar you end up after, is a definite plus.

It’s fancier than you expected; drinks on the menu that you can’t order anywhere else and a very clean-cut black and white interior design. It fits the day, though—fits your short dress and your high heels and your perfectly straightened hair.

Kelley’s hand is warm in yours as she pulls you toward the bar. She talking about one of the reporters today, about a stupid question they asked, and then you catch her mumbling something about her girlfriend—kind of off-handedly, in a way that is just so typical, tucked between the rest of the words, right between ordering you cocktails, almost like she’s scared you’ll see through her and feel how real it is.

You’ve known her for so many years, and still sometimes she seems to forget.

“Kell,” you say, leaning in just a little bit so you’re sure that she can hear you. “You know that you’re allowed to miss her, right? It’s okay if you do.”

Kelley’s exhale is a little harsh. “Yeah—no, I mean, I’m fine. It’s no big deal or anything.” She laughs a short laugh, but you can see the way her bottom lip trembles just a little bit when she adds, “Just—all the distance is driving me crazy.” 

You nod, leaning in a little closer. “I know. It’s difficult.”

The bartender places the drinks in front of you, and Kelley clinks her glass against yours, taking a sip before arching one her eyebrows and saying, “You and Tobin seem to be dealing with that just fine, though…”

You can feel your cheeks heat up. You know what she’s implying. Lately, you haven’t exactly been sleeping in your own bed a lot.

Kelley smirks at your inability to answer.

“What?” she grins. “Am I not allowed to point out the obvious domesticity?”  

“We’re just—” you start, trying to play it cool. “It’s just nice to see each other whenever we can.”

Kelley grabs your hand again, interlacing your fingers playfully. “I know, I know,” she says. “I’m just messing with you.” She sips her drink with her other hand and you do the same thing. Then, Kelley leans a little closer, and adds, almost casually, “You two are basically already married, though. Might as well just move in together while you’re at it.”

You inhale sharply, opening your mouth to protest, but Kelley laughs, not even giving you a chance to reply before she says, “Press, just look at her looking at you.”

She nods over to the other end of the bar where Tobin is standing with Ashlyn and Ali. You glance over, eyes getting caught momentarily on how good she looks—in her black suit, her hair down, all casual confidence and just the slightest bit of alcohol-induced bravado. Just as you’re about to turn back to Kelley to tell her Tobin’s just talking to Ashlyn and not paying attention to you at all, she meets your eyes, and it hits you hard—how it’s clearly not the first time she’s looked over since you’re been speaking to Kelley.

Her eyes are dark and her eyebrow rises just the slightest bit in recognition. Right away, the tension spikes.

For half a moment, Tobin looks back at Ashlyn, who is trying to tell her something, but then her eyes are back on you and you can feel your whole body heat up.

There’s something almost serious in her the way she observes you—so intently, like she hasn’t taken your eyes off of you one moment, her jaw sharp, features just the slightest bit tense, almost like she’s—

Like she’s—

“Maybe I should stop holding your hand,” Kelley grins. “Or else Tobin is going to explode with jealousy.”

It curls hot and hard in your stomach, when you realize with a shock that it’s true. That Tobin keeps glancing at where you and Kelley’s fingers are intertwined on the bar; keeps narrowing her eyes a little bit, not listening to anything Ashlyn is saying.


You feel like you should think this is ridiculous; ridiculous because Kelley is your best friend, because you’ve told Tobin a million times that nothing has ever happened between you in college, ridiculous because you’re her girlfriend, for fuck’s sake—

But something about it; something about being watched the way she’s watching you is intense in a way that’s almost addictive

Even if it’s ridiculous.

Maybe it’s the wine, maybe it’s the fact that Kelley is grinning at you like this is the most fun thing she’s observed in a while, maybe you’re just feeling bold—but suddenly, you hear yourself admit, “Sometimes, she gets a little possessive.”

Kelley laughs. “What a surprise.” She leans in closer. “If you promise you won’t let her kill me, I could play along. See how long it takes before she snaps. I’ll bet you 5 dollars it’ll be less than a minute.”

That makes you laugh. “Get out of here.”

You grab Kelley’s hand, though, and press a kiss to her knuckles, and it’s nothing—it’s literally nothing, but from one moment to the next, Tobin is suddenly right next to you, hand low on your back.

“Chris,” she says, “Do you have a second?”

Kelley laughs, and Tobin frowns, and she’s already pushing her hand a little harder into your hip, possessively.

You feel the rush of power like a wave, trying not to smile as wide as you want to. “What do you need, babe?”

Tobin kind of glares. “Can we—just—can we go outside?”

She barely even waits for your response, ignores Kelley’s mumbled that’ll be five dollars, and is already dragging your through the crowd of people in the club before you get a real chance to protest.

She pulls you through one of the back hallways and you’re about ninety percent sure you’re not allowed to be there, and then you turn a corner and Tobin presses you up against the wall and kisses you hard.

It makes you gasp into her mouth, but she’s insistent and a little rough, and you’d be lying if you would pretend you aren’t into this. It only takes a second, but then you’re kissing her back just as feverishly—hands pulling on the lapels of her jacket, licking her mouth open, loving the way she groans.

You’re panting against her when she finally pulls away and it takes you a moment to find enough breath to say, “What—what are you doing?”

Tobin moves her lips to your neck, says, “You’re driving me crazy.”

You hum. “Oh yeah?”

“All day already,” she says. “All those people—those journalists and interviewers—getting all of your attention, and then Kelley goes ahead and holds your hand like it’s nothing, all up in your space at the bar—”

You smirk, play with the buttons of her shirt. “Are you jealous?”

She scoffs. “Of course not.”

“No?” You drag her shirt up out of her pants, ghost the tips of your fingers over her hips. “Is Kelley not allowed to hold my hand?”

Tobin’s eyes flash, and then she admits, “Not when you’re wearing a dress like this and I haven’t been able to kiss you all day.”

Again, it powers through you—how into you she is, how you’re able to wind her up without barely even trying.

She drifts her hand over your leg insistently, almost like she can’t help it, like she has to touch you to prove she is allowed to. It heats you up enough to kiss her again, wet and needy, licking at her bottom lip before biting down on it and saying into her mouth, “Do you think I’d let Kelley touch me like this?” 

Tobin groans, and then kisses you—kisses you until you forget the bar, and Kelley, and Ashlyn and Ali, and anyone else you’ve talked to today.

Until it’s you and her, and no one else.


The thing is—

In the past, you haven’t ever been that experimental, not with anyone. For the most part, you’d have sex with people to release tension, to feel good for a moment; regardless of whether or not you were really into them, if you got an orgasm or two out of it, well, great. You never really felt the need to explore anything beyond the base level of satisfactory.

But Tobin—

Tobin drives you insane.


You realize what you want accidentally. 

You’re on your back on her bed, and she’s on top of you, kissing you lazily, slow and steady—giving you just enough to keep you on the edge, but never really giving in completely. Her mouth is hot and wet against your lips, against your skin. One hand is one your stomach, fingers spread out and stroking soft circles over your skin, and you’re not wearing anything other than your panties, but Tobin doesn’t seem in a rush to touch you properly at all.

You’re losing your mind a little bit.

With a push of your hips, you try to tell her what you want—that all the slow stuff is making you really needy and turned on; that you just want her to touch you already, touch you anywhere; your boobs, your legs, your ass, just anywhere that’ll take the edge off.

“Babe,” you mumble. “Babe, please.”

Tobin doesn’t listen, just keeps kissing the side of your neck, biting down a little bit, but not with enough pressure, and god—

You reach you arm down between your bodies, trying to get your hand on her instead, but the second your fingers brush against her skin, she grabs your wrist in pins it to the mattress.

Tobin—” You groan.

“Be patient,” she says.

Her hand strokes up from your stomach to your ribs, and you arch your back off the mattress, willing her to just brush her fingers over your nipples already, to grab your boobs harder.

She keeps them exactly where they are.

You reach your hand down again, trying to fist your hand in her hair, to bring her mouth to where you want it, to make her suck on—

She grabs your wrist immediately, a little hard even as she squeezes it down onto the mattress, pinning both of your hands above your head.

“Christen,” she says. “Keep your hands right there.” 

The authority in her voice makes you even wetter. You push your hips up harder, trying to slide yourself against her thigh, but she’s not letting it happen. You feel flushed all over, ready and shaky, and if only Tobin would let you—

You try to pull your hands from her grip and she doesn’t allow it, flashes her eyes at you, says, with a bit of an edge to her voice, “You might want to at least try to be good for me, baby.”

And fuck—

The thought hits you so hard and sudden that you feel like you’re close to coming without her barely having touched you.

It’s like she can tell, because for a second her act kind of falters, and she raises her eyebrow at you, but you force yourself to be quiet, to let her have it her way, first.

Next time, you think.

Just wait until next time.


“I want to try something.”

Tobin appears in the door of the bathroom, looking at you, her hair still wet from the shower, dressed for bed in a t-shirt and shorts. You feel a little shaky with anticipation, with knowing that you’ve been thinking about this all day, and she doesn’t know yet, but she’s about to find out, and then—if she wants it—you’ll… you’ll…

Her expression changes a little bit as she notices the flush on your cheeks. “What kind of thing?”

You lick at your own bottom lip, flicking your eyes up at her. “A sex thing.”

The corners of Tobin’s mouth curl just the slightest little bit and you can feel yourself blush harder, because you’re not used to this. It’s not that it’s making you embarrassed, it doesn’t. You’re actually very vocal about what you want. But this time, for some reason—

(Because you went ahead and just got it already, without speaking to her about it, building it up in your head for days and days; because you can feel how much she’s going to want it when she knows what it is—)

It makes you feel shaky.

Tobin walks over to the bed slowly. She sits down, brushes her fingers over your arm. “Tell me,” she says then. “What do you want to try?”

You swallow hard, before leaning over to grab the box from the drawer of the nightstand. You push it over to her.

Her mouth parts at the sight—the first sign that she’s not entirely unaffected. “What is it?”

“Just open it,” you say.

She looks at you before pulling the box closer to her, taking the lid off slowly. Her eyes go dark and her voice is just slightly rough when she breathes out, “Chris…”

“Want you to do it,” you say, trying to keep your voice from shaking. “Want you to handcuff me to the bed and do whatever you want.”

Your heart is racing. Tobin takes out the pair of handcuffs, running her fingers over them slowly, not saying anything. They’re nice ones—leather bands and all. You did some research.

With your breathing high in your chest, you watch the way she examines them, wetting her lips as she turns them over in her hands before locking her gaze on yours.

“Are you sure?” she says.

You nod. She waits. You take a breath. “Yes.”

“Right now?”

It makes you shake. “Please.”

She kisses you, then, closing all the space between you; nothing but pent up energy and shaking excitement. She only pauses one more time to say, “I want you to use red, yellow, green, okay?”

You’re already kissing her again, whispering your consent into her mouth, and then she’s stroking her fingers over your jaw, moving to tug your t-shirt up over your head.

“You too,” you mumble between kisses, fingers already on the hem of her shirt. “Want you naked.”

She’s already pulling her own shirt up over your head, before kissing you again, a little harder this time, a little more insistent. When both of you are naked, she presses you down into the mattress, leaving the handcuffs to the side for a moment—begins to work you up in all the familiar ways first.

It makes you feel good.

Makes you feel good when she ghosts her hand over your nipples, smirking into your neck as it draws a soft gasp from the back of your throat; makes you feel good when she slots her hips between you, all pressure and heat; makes you feel good when she sucks and licks at your skin, runs her hands all over your body in all the ways that drive you crazy, whispers into your ear how beautiful you are, how much you’re turning her on, how good you’re being.

She’s letting you touch her all over—letting you stroke your fingers over her hips, her ass, her back—and you don’t realize how much of a tease it is, until she abruptly grabs a hold of your hands and pulls them up and over your head.

Your breath catches in your throat and your eyes snap open to look at her.

She’s breathless and beautiful, studying the way your face changes when she takes hold of the handcuffs, pushing both your arms up to the headboard.

“Keep still for me, baby…”

She shifts, straddles your hips in a way that makes you want to rock up hard. But all she needs to do is look down at you and arch her eyebrow. You bite down hard on your bottom lip, trying to swallow the groan. You want to protest, but then all your thoughts suddenly cut short because Tobin has cuffed one of your wrists, and fuck—

She fumbles a little with the other one, momentarily unsure. But then it clicks into place and suddenly your movement is completely restrained.

Tobin gives your wrist a small tap. “Test them for me?”

You pull, your breathing speeding up when you realize you genuinely can’t move. You stare up at her, and suddenly her face changes, goes soft. “You okay?”

You nod. “Yes.” She stays silent for another moment and you breathe out, “Green, babe. Fucking green. Please, just—”

She smiles, sweet and soft, cutting you off when she leans down and kisses you. It stays sweet and soft for only a moment, and then Tobin seems to lose her control. She starts with your boobs; starts with rolling your nipples between her fingers until you’re barely able to keep still, before sucking them into her mouth and licking slow and teasing circles around them.

It’s getting you impossibly wet.

You’re rocking your hips up for any sort of friction, but Tobin is taking her sweet time. She kisses you hard whenever you get a little too vocal in your protest—biting down on your lip, telling you, “Be good or you won’t get anything at all”  in a voice that drives you absolutely fucking crazy.  

She kisses your neck; sucks a mark into your skin that you know everyone will see at your next practice, and then she marks you lower, too—on your breast, your hip, the inside of your thigh.

It’s rough and it stings just a little bit, but it’s turning you on more than you were expecting.

Still—there’s nothing like the feeling that rushes through you when she sits back and just looks at you.

Her face is flushed, her mouth wet, her hair messy.

She looks at you, drags her gaze over your body like you’re only there for her to look at, and then says, “Fuck—I can’t believe you’re mine.”

It makes you moan. “Baby, please… Please…”  

You’re begging and she loves it.

With slow fingers, she pushes your legs open. She drags one of her hands up, grinning at how wet the inside of your thighs are. “Is this what you want, baby?” She slowly circles closer. “Do you think you deserve it, yet? Have you been good enough?”

You want to snap.

You want to tell her that you’re handcuffed to the goddamn bed for her, but you know that she’s provoking you on purpose.

You know that she wants you to snap, just so that she can prolong this even more.

It’s the only reason why you’re able to look up at her, giving her all the power, as you breathe out, “Have I?”

Tobin’s gaze goes a little dark. She bites down on her bottom lip, and then she leans over you, her mouth close against your ear when she says, “Yes.” She kisses your jaw, licks at your earlobe, slides her fingers even higher, drifts them over your clit as she says, “God, you’re so beautiful, baby. So sexy. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, you know that?”


Somehow, this is the thing that is going to make you snap.

If she keeps the praise up, you’re going to come the second she starts fucking you, and she knows it.

And then, to make things even worse, she says, “Now tell me.”

Your mind is so hazy that you can barely construct any rational thought. She teases her fingertips at your entrance. You try to rock yourself onto her, but the handcuffs are preventing you from moving down the bed. “Tell you what?” you breathe out.

Her voice is soft. She kisses you and then whispers, “Who do you belong to?”

And all of a sudden it’s different, you realize. It’s not a power play. There’s so much underneath the words, so much neediness for her to hear the truth—not for reasons of ego, but because she doubts it sometimes, still, and she’s asking you because she’s trying not to.

“You,” you breathe out. “You, only you. Fuck, I love you so much. Love you more than I’ve ever loved—”  

She slides her fingers inside of you, and your sentence cuts off in a moan. Every next second heats you up like you’re going to burn through the bed. You don’t know what you’re saying, anymore, don’t know where her body begins and yours ends, don’t know—

She makes you come once, just with her hand, then again with her mouth.

You try to reach down to tangle your fingers in her hair, but you can’t.

“Babe—” Your voice is hoarse as you’re coming down from your high. “The handcuffs—take them off.”

She moves away from between your legs, fumbles with the one on your right wrist until she gets it loose. It aches; tense and red and trembling just a little bit. You don’t care.

Tobin tries to get the other one loose, but it’s like you’ve lost all your patience at once.

With as much strength as you can find, you push yourself against her, flipping you over until you’re on top—one hand still cuffed to the bed.


“Leave it,” you say. “Just leave it. Want to—I just—”

You can’t even say it.

All you want to do is touch her.

You urge her up high enough against the headboard that you can straddle her thigh, get your hand between her legs. She’s looking at you with wide eyes. You lean down and kiss her. She lets you fuck her with one of your hands still cuffed to the bed, and you’re hers, all hers.