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staring into the sun

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Carson had never had a favorite place before. Her house in Idaho was quiet and well-lived in, but she had always felt like a facsimile of herself there, her feet padding lightly in rooms filled with pictures of a life she didn’t remember choosing. She never really inhabited that space. But here, in this beat-up old car in an old garage in Rockford, under a musty sheet with dust swirling in the air; here she had never felt more like herself.

She came here, usually with Greta, her hair falling in waves around her face and her red red lips that could undo Carson with a word, a gasp, a kiss. But today, she was alone, reviewing her notes from their last few games. It was easier to think here, away from the noise and the energy of the main house. The worn leather of the seats was warm against her body, and with only a little imagination she could smell the remnants of Greta’s perfume.

Starting line-ups and batting orders consumed Carson’s thoughts, though not so much that she missed the faint click of the garage door. She froze, stilling the pencil she twirled absentmindedly in her hair; a nervous habit from childhood long since ingrained. Maybe it was Lupe, looking for a place to smoke. She listened for sound of a lighter, inhaled air, anything that might give hint to who was outside.

Instead, the sheet around her was pulled to the side, and she was met with Greta’s twinkling eyes and half-grin.

“Coach,” she said as she slid into the seat beside Carson, “thought maybe I’d find you out here.”

“Greta.” Carson pressed a hand to her still racing heart, “Fuck, you scared me.”

“Who me?” She grinned innocently and raised her eyebrows. “What are you doing out here all alone?”

“Oh, umm” She paused and took a breath. Her pulse felt erratic and her skin tight; how did this girl affect her so instantaneously. “I was just, umm, thinking. You know…baseball” and she held up her flashcards weakly.

Greta’s smile was soft as she moved closer to Carson across the bucket seats. She slid a hand on to her knee, gently pressing down against Carson’s nervous bouncing. “I come here too,” she said, “to think. I like that it reminds me of you.”

A knot loosened in Carson’s stomach, and she exhaled slowly. “Yeah,” Carson smiled up at her, “I know what you mean.”

“So, what’s the plan?” her demeanor shifting to playful, and she snatched the flashcards from Carson’s hands. “Lot’s of curves and squiggles.”

Carson rolled her eyes and reach out for her cards. “Yes,” she said dryly, and then starting to gesture “and well I was thinking, maybe, the line-up, I mean, I know what Dove said - ”

“Mmmmhmmm” Greta hummed and touched a finger to Carson’s lips. “As cute as you are when you babble, I’ve changed my mind. No baseball talk.” She tossed the flashcards on to the dashboard in front of her, out of Carson’s reach, then turned back with a smirk. “Now what other extra-curriculars could we discuss, Coach Shaw?”

Carson blushed, her red cheeks hot in the already warm car. She didn’t know how to play these games; not when Greta’s eyes were light and playful, her face open. Carson felt like she was staring into the sun.

“Well, um, I’m sure we could think of something,” she said, her voice posturing confidence that she certainly did not feel. But she needn’t have worried. Greta’s hands were already reaching for her, and Carson closed the last few inches of distance between them with a needy gasp, her hands sliding into Greta’s hair.

Greta’s lips were hot against hers, somehow domineering and yielding at the same time. And she kissed her, kissed her, kissed her, and Carson was quite sure that her entire life had been building towards kissing Greta Gill.

She pushed closer, their bodies colliding, and Carson could feel the press of Greta’s breasts against her own. It made her feel like she was drowning. And if she was, well, then Greta was a life vest in this sea of desire and want and Carson clung to her like a prayer.

When Greta’s tongue snaked out to trace Carson’s lower lip, the groan that escaped her was embarrassing, or would have been, if she hadn’t felt Greta smile against her lips and her hand slide lower on her back, playing with the hem of her blouse. Carson surged closer, but her knees knocked roughly into Greta’s legs and she exhaled sharply in frustration.

“Hey” Greta said in a quiet breath against her lips, “hey, what do you need?”

“It’s just…” Carson started, and then stopped, her heart pounding and hair sticking to her forehead, “this car...” and her thoughts jumped to the convent with Greta’s entire body against her own, her skin bared under her fingers. Her hand slipped to the back of Greta’s neck and she brought their lips together again with an urgency bordering on desperation. “You,” she said between kisses, “I need you,” and something welled up in her that she didn’t know how to name.

Greta broke their kiss briefly to catch her eyes, then pressed a kiss to the hollow under her ear. “I’ve got you,” she said, “can I try something?”

Carson nodded her consent and felt Greta’s hand slide along her thighs. Still pressing kisses to Carson’s neck, she bunched the silk of her skirt and tugged it upwards. It was a Saturday afternoon - no games, no events - and she had forgone stockings, her flesh erupting in goosebumps where Greta touched her. One of Greta’s hands slipped from her thigh to her knee, pulling her leg up and over, and she suddenly found herself astride Greta’s hips, legs pressed into the seat on either side of her.

Carson gasped, twining her arms around Greta’s neck and let her weight fall, sinking into Greta’s body. Greta’s breath hitched, hands roaming her back, pushing up under her shirt as her nails bit lightly into Carson’s skin.

Carson’s hands moved to the buttons on her dress, and her eyes met Greta’s in question. Greta had rules, rules that probably didn’t involve losing her clothes in the back of a car in the middle of the afternoon.

But Greta was already nodding, a breathless “yes, yes” escaping her lips and she guided Carson’s shirt over her head, tossing it to the side. Carson’s hands trembled as she fumbled with Greta’s buttons, undoing enough to push the dress to her hips, her lips lowering to the junction between her bared neck and shoulders. Her skin was porcelain, smooth and unblemished, and Carson nipped lightly at her pulse point. She felt Greta’s hand tighten in her hair, guiding her face back up, and Greta pulled them together again, open-mouthed and wanting.

Greta’s fingers slipped deftly to the clasp of her bra, easing it open and off Carson’s shoulders. Carson inhaled sharply as she felt Greta’s hands shift to her front, gently cupping her breasts. She broke from the kiss with a soft cry and Greta smiled at her, softly, with lipstick smudged in a halo around her mouth and Carson closed her watering eyes against the simple beauty of her.

They shot open again in the next minute as Greta began softly circling her nipples, already hard, and Carson arched forward, seeking more contact. And Greta obliged, resting her forehead against Carson’s as she pinched down, lightly a first, then with increasing pressure, rolling Carson’s nipples between her fingers.

“Fuuuuck” was all Carson could manage, her lips capturing Greta’s again, tongue seeking out the warmth of her mouth. She shifted on her knees, hips pushing down without her permission, grinding into Greta’s lap.

“You’re beautiful like this,” Greta said in a whisper, lips ghosting over her ear. A hand shifted downward, running over her abs, dipping into her belly button before resting lightly over the damp cotton of her underwear. Carson’s hips jerked against the pressure and she wondered fleetingly if it was possible for a person to die with want, with need, as her entire body shuddered with tension.

“Will you…can you…” Carson said, but stopped, not knowing how to ask, not knowing if she could say the words out loud. But then she felt Greta’s fingers slip under the fabric of her underwear, tracing slowly up and down. And then with more pressure, pushing past her lips and into warm wetness.

“Mmmm…this?” said Greta, looking at her unabashedly, lower lip trapped between her teeth. Carson could only nod, eyes holding Greta’s as her fingers dropped lower, dipping shallowly inside her.

Carson pushed down with her hips, taking her fingers deeper, choking on the sensation of feeling Greta inside her again. She grabbed Greta’s hair, pulling slightly, trying to find a shred of control over her body’s response to this woman trapped underneath her.

Greta sensed her body freezing, muscles wrought with tension. Her other hand slipped to Carson’s lower back, massaging the muscles there lightly, coaxing her to relax. “Hey, hey” her voice was breathy but soothing, “Is this ok…are you ok?”

“I’m…-” Carson swallowed, and continued “good, great – I’m great.” She took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, letting her shoulders unclench, and trying, trying to get the vice around her heart to loosen. Because Greta was looking at her with such unguarded concern and devotion and Carson realized with striking clarity that she loved her in that moment. Fuck, in every moment.

“You are great,” Greta smiled and captured her lips in a tender kiss. “Now,” she said, and gently wiggled her fingers buried deep inside her, “move with me.” Her hand at Carson’s back snaked to her hip, and she guided her slowly up, and then down, in rhythm with her fingers gently thrusting into her.

Carson quickly fell into cadence with her movements, legs clamped tightly astride Greta’s hips as she rode her hand. The angle was deeper, sharper, than their first time in Kenosha, and Carson was dizzy with it. She could feel her muscles starting to clench, gripping Greta’s fingers and pulling them deeper. The speed of her rocking hips increased, and Greta hummed against her lips, matching her pace.

She felt Greta shift beneath her a little, her hand adjusting so her thumb made contact with Carson’s clit, and suddenly, Carson was lost. Her body tightened, hips bearing down as she came, her orgasm crashing over her as she cried out against Greta’s lips.

Greta swallowed her moans, her lips soft but insistent as she let Carson ride out the aftershocks, slowing, but not ceasing the movements of her fingers. Her other hand drifted to the nape of Carson’s neck, playing with the damp curls of hair and tracing light patterns on her skin.

Carson broke their kiss, her lips instead finding Greta’s cheeks, her eyes, her chin. She shifted upwards a bit, allowing Greta to gently remove her fingers. Carson grabbed her hand, glistening fingers entwining with her own, and brought it to her lips pressing a kiss to her warm skin.

“Wow, that was…” Carson exhaled, slowly coming back to herself. She ducked her head, blushing.

Greta beamed at her, winking, and Carson felt suddenly self-conscious of their position, still astride Greta, bare from the wait up, skirt pushed up around her stomach.

“I should, uhh,” she said, reaching across the seat for her shirt and making a move to lift herself back to a seated position beside Greta. She smoothed down the front of her skirt, irreparably wrinkled for now, as she searched for something to do with her hands.

But then Greta was there, already inching back into her space, pulling her face up and forward in to a bone-melting kiss.

“That was…what?” she said, teasingly, shifting back to wedge herself into a semi-reclined position between the seat and the car door. She reached out for Carson, who slipped without hesitation under her outstretched arm, head coming to rest on her shoulder. She kissed the swell of skin above her bra, fingers lightly toying with strap.

“Fucking incredible.” Carson said, because there really was no other response. She felt Greta’s fingers on her chin, tilting her face upwards, and their lips met. Carson smiled, her eyes shining with every unspoken truth wrapped up tightly inside her.

“No question,” said Greta, hands playing with the waves of Carson’s hair. Then she laughed, “I may be a touch too tall for the reverse though.”

Carson twisted her body around, one hand propping her up against the car door as she hovered over Greta.

“Well,” she said, voice catching as she moved closer, “I’m sure we can come up with something.”