It’s one of those rare occasions when both Bernie and Serena have a day off and, to Bernie’s surprise, Serena had invited her to spend the day at hers if she had no other plans. Bernie’s plans for the day had extended no further than having a lie in and doing some laundry, so she cut short the lie in for the sake of getting a load of laundry into the washing machine and then chucking it into the dryer once it was washed, before heading for Serena’s. She’ll sort it out once she gets home.
The pair of them are currently sitting on Serena’s patio, enjoying the unusually warm Spring day, and drinking tea. They’ve been dating for a couple of weeks and Bernie is finally beginning to consider that perhaps this is one relationship she won’t manage to screw up, cowardly flights to Kiev notwithstanding.
Serena’s been teasing her for the last five minutes about her need for a haircut and Bernie finally rolls her eyes and says, “It’s a good job I love you, Serena Wendy Campbell, otherwise–” She cuts herself off, wide-eyed and shocked to her core to have uttered those words so casually, and over a cup of tea, instead of after carefully planning out the most meaningful and romantic occasion to say them.
She’s staring at Serena, breath held, in a state of consternation, and the other woman sets down her empty teacup, takes Bernie’s from her slackened grip, then moves to sit on her lap, straddling her thighs.
“I love you, too, you silly goose,” she says softly, leaning down to kiss Bernie deeply, before adding, “I did mention, before you left, that I’d been in love before and recognised the symptoms.”
Bernie swallows. “I – I know. I r-remember. Why do you think I ran away?”
Serena combs the fingers of her right hand through Bernie’s hair, repeating the action several times until her body relaxes under Serena’s soothing ministrations. “I did rather assume that was the reason you ran away,” she says softly. “So why are you panicking about saying it yourself?”
Bernie swallows again. “That wasn’t how I was planning on telling you,” she whispers.
Serena chuckles and pushes against Bernie’s shoulder until she’s lying back against the lounger. “Knowing you,” she murmurs as her left hand slips under Bernie’s white button down shirt, “you were planning to do it in some impossibly romantic fashion.”
Bernie feels a blush heating her cheeks and closes her eyes. “Am I that predictable?” she asks in a bitter tone.
“Open your eyes, love.” Serena’s tone is cajoling and when Bernie obeys, she leans down for another kiss. “It’s not so much that you’re predictable as that I’ve begun to learn how to read you and what to expect from you. And you are, without doubt, the most romantic person I’ve ever dated.”
Serena drops her hand from Bernie’s hair to her shoulder, then runs her hand down her torso before slipping it under her shirt, and Bernie shudders as her right hand finds her breast and begins to massage it lightly. Serena kisses her some more and Bernie wraps her arms securely across the brunette’s lower back, returning her kisses with fervour.
When they eventually break apart in an attempt to catch their breath, Serena asks, in an incredibly seductive voice, “So now that we’ve established that we love each other, what are you planning to do next, soldier?”
“This.” Bernie changes her grip on Serena and pushes up from the lounger, making the other woman yelp in shock. She carries Serena into the house, while she clutches at Bernie’s shoulders and demands to be put down.
“I’d like our first time to be in a bed,” Bernie tells her as she reaches the foot of the stairs, her voice gone low and husky with desire. “Where’s your bedroom.”
“First door on the left,” Serena gasps out. “If you put your back out carrying me around, don’t come crying to me.”
Bernie chuckles filthily. “Don’t worry, love, I’ve got you.” She makes her way upstairs and turns left at the head of the stairs, pushing the door open with her hip.
Serena’s room is practically opulent in its luxurious décor and furnishings, and Bernie finds herself wholly unsurprised by the room – it’s very Serena. She carries the brunette across to the bed and sets her down, then finds herself pulled down on top of the other woman.
“Serena!” she gasps.
“C’mere you,” Serena practically growls. They kiss again, more sloppily and certainly more hungrily, each trying to undress the other, until Bernie starts laughing at the sheer absurdity of their behaviour.
“Anyone would think we’re nothing but hormonal, horny teenagers,” she gasps.
“Teenager I might not be, but hormonal and horny, I definitely am. Now get your kit off, soldier, so I can show you a good time.”
Bernie splutters with laughter. “You’re quite ridiculous,” she says flopping sideways onto the bed so that she can unbutton her shirt.
As soon as it’s undone, Serena’s pulling the two halves apart and gazing down at Bernie’s breasts, which are encased in a plain white cotton bra. Bernie levers herself upright and sheds the shirt, then unfastens her bra and unselfconsciously tugs it off, then she flops backwards in order to unfasten her jeans and shimmy them off.
“You wear boxer shorts?” Serena asks quizzically once Bernie jeans have joined her shirt and bra on the floor.
“Sometimes. Not always. For instance, if I’d known I was going to be getting naked for you, I’d have worn my nice lingerie today.” She sits back up and begins unfastening Serena’s cobalt blue blouse, leaning in for a languid kiss that lasts until she’s eased the fabric off Serena’s shoulders. Then she pulls back to lift her black vest up and over her head.
Once that’s on the floor along with the rest of their clothing, she pauses to take a good look at Serena’s breasts, which are encased in burgundy red satin and lace, and look positively luscious.
“Eyes up, soldier,” she says, and Bernie lifts her head.
“What?” she asks. “You got to stare at mine, so I think it’s only fair that I get to stare at yours.”
“Got an answer for everything, haven’t you Major?”
Bernie shrugs. “I just thought–”
“Well, we are equals after all.” She bursts into laughter when Serena swats at her shoulder, then captures her wrist and places a kiss on the palm of her hand. Serena stops trying to pull her hand free and looks up at her, eyes dark and hooded. Bernie kisses her palm again, making sure to swirl the tip of her tongue around a little, then she places a kiss on the inside of Serena’s wrist, which elicits a hitch in her breathing. Another kiss to the inside of her forearm, then one in the crook of her elbow follows, and she thinks Serena might’ve stopped breathing altogether. She drops a kiss on the outer point of Serena’s shoulder, then nuzzles into the crook of her neck, before kissing a path up to the back of her ear.
Then the brunette utters a long, low moan of pleasure as the fingers on Bernie’s free hand, which have been busy elsewhere all this time, slip into Serena’s knickers and slide over her mound to find her clit.
“Oh god, Bernie,” she groans.
“Shh, it’s okay, love, I’ve got you.” Bernie slides her hand lower and teases her a little, sliding her fingers up and down over her slick folds, to the accompaniment of another groan, this time wordless. Then she draws her hand out just long enough to tug both Serena’s trousers and knickers off before her hand resumes its intimate ministrations.
When Serena climaxes some time later Bernie can’t help being glad that her lover lives in a leafy detached because she’d never have guessed Serena for a wailer. She also hadn’t anticipated that the brunette would dig her nails into her back as she clutched Bernie shoulders while her orgasm was turning her inside out, as she later described it. As it is, Bernie’s fairly sure she’ll have fingernail marks on her shoulders for at least a couple of days.
Bernie cradles Serena in her arms as she comes down from what she can tell was a fairly intense climax.
“Okay, love?” she asks softly.
“That was–” Serena says, then opens her eyes and gazes dreamily at Bernie. There are tears in her eyes and Bernie instantly worries that she must have hurt the other woman, that the wailing wasn’t an expression of pleasure after all. Something must show in her face because Serena immediately frees an arm in order to reach up and cup Bernie’s face. “Love, that was amazing. Quite the best orgasm I’ve had in a very long time.”
“I didn’t hurt you?” Bernie has to ask the question, despite Serena’s words.
“Not a bit,” she says in a reassuring tone.
“Good to know you don’t regret turning Sapphic.”
Serena chuckles. “I don’t. Do I get to return the favour?”
“Only if you want to,” Bernie says. “I don’t keep score.”
“Oh, I definitely want to,” Serena says in a firm tone, making Bernie smile. “You will tell me if I’m doing this wrong, won’t you?”
“I will, but you won’t.”
Some considerable time later they pad downstairs together, Serena wrapped in a silk robe while Bernie’s wrapped in a terrycloth one, and assemble lunch, both of them needing to replenish their energy after their morning activities.
“You know, when I invited you to come over today, I didn’t plan for us to have sex for the first time,” Serena says as they sit at the kitchen table and tuck into bowls of soup.
“Oh, so you’re not the great seductress I was imagining you to be, then?”
Bernie can’t help teasing Serena because she’s feeling relaxed and at ease in her own skin for the first time since she first realised she was attracted to her best friend.
That earns her a swat on the arm. “Oi, what is it with you and violence?” she asks.
“What, can’t my big macho army medic stand a few bumps?” asks Serena in a teasing tone.
“I am, you know,” Bernie says earnestly, looking across the table at Serena from under her fringe.
“You are what?”
“Yours,” Bernie says simply.
Serena swallows, looking a bit misty-eyed. “I’m yours, too.”
Bernie gives her a sly smile. “So, what do you want to do this afternoon?” She waggles her eyebrows and Serena laughs.
“I don’t know, but I’m sure we’ll think of some way to while away the hours.”
“I have some ideas,” Bernie says, with a smirk.
They head back upstairs.