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the world ain't ending (but it might as well be)

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Waverly has an unwavering confidence that belies her sweet face and small stature. She has edge to her, which you suppose you should've expected when she took her shirt off in front of you the day you met. At first glance, though, she's this beautiful, delicate creature.


So that's how you treat her. At least at first.


Dating Waverly brings with it all of the joy you can possibly imagine and then some. She treats you like a partner and expects the same of you. She's intelligent, well-spoken and well-read, and you could listen to her talk for hours about just about anything. She's graceful and people are drawn to her like moths to a flame, though you doubt she realizes this. 


In private you're careful, so careful with her. Waverly is so much smaller than you, and everything about her is so soft and pliable. You've been with other women before--obviously--but you've never been so much bigger than one. Your hands are light and your touches are gentle, so gentle, over her cheeks and shoulders, her breasts and everywhere else. And everything is good.


After a while, Waverly grows agitated.


"Jesus, Nicole! Touch me, already!" She's wriggling beneath you on her bed, topless and only in her panties. Her chest is heaving and her voice is sharp and frustrated. You pull back from peppering her collar bone with kisses, drawing slow and soft circles around one of her nipples with your fingers.


"What?" You eye her warily, your voice timid, as you sit up and back on your heels.


Waverly raises herself up onto her elbows and slides her body so she's propped against the pillows. "I'm sorry," she says, closing her eyes. "But, sweetheart, you're killing me." She shakes her head and releases a breath. 


"Oh." You feel embarrassed, disappointed. You love your sex life with Waverly, and you're shocked and a little bit hurt that she's not happy with you, too. "I-I'm sorry. Do you want me to just go?" You cross your arms over your bare chest, suddenly cold and feeling very vulnerable.


"No! God, no, Nicole. I--ugh." She shakes her head. "You're kinda being mean."


Your eyes widen, eyebrows raise. She just yelled at you in the middle of sex, and you're the mean one? "Uh, what?"


"Listen." Her voice gets very serious, but you can hear the slight tremor and see the thrum of her pulse in an artery in her neck. She's sincere, but her body is still hot and thick with arousal. "I love when we have sex. I do, but all of this light, gentle crap? It's not enough."


That hurts a little, and your breath leaves you as though you've been punched. You drop your hands into your lap and feel your cheeks flame.


"Nicole, you're hot," she grins, adding "pun intended" in a low voice. You roll your eyes.


"Not really in a joking mood right now, Waves."


"Right. Sorry." She sits forward so she can grab your hands in hers. "What I'm trying--and apparently failing--to tell you is that you're sexy and you make me feel hot and bothered, and sometimes I want to be, you know, um, taken by that feeling."


You furrow your eyebrows. "I'm not sure I understand."


Waverly pauses, taking a breath and looking down at your joined hands. "Okay, let me see if I can explain this." She looks up at you through her eyelashes, and it's like a punch to the chest. She's so beautiful looking at you like this, uncovered and honest and bare. "You remember the day we first met? In Shorty's?"


You smile at the memory. "Yeah, and you had all of that beer dripping down your shirt?"


She smirks. "Yes. When you saw me, before we'd even talked, and I was soaked through and wet and flustered, how did you feel?"


Your cheeks heat up again. "Like I wanted to tackle you to the ground behind the bar."


"Exactly!" She's loud and animated and her face is open and joyous, as though you've said exactly the right thing. You feel a proud when she looks at you that way, but you're still confused. "When we have sex, it's gorgeous and fun, but it feels like a low boil instead of the flame itself." You're beginning to understand, you think, and you nod slowly. "Sometimes, I want to feel what it's like to be drowning in that hot, hot passion." Her smile turns wicked, her eyes narrowing and smoldering. "I want to feel taken."


You blush furiously and purse your lips. "So I'm not, like, boring you, or something?"


She looks hurt, her eyes melting at you. You think they look more green today than brown. You love that her eyes change color. "God, no, Nicole. I'm so sorry I made you feel that way." She reaches up to touch your cheek with her fingertips. "I love our sex life. But you're also a big, strong cop badass, and I don't want you worrying you're going to hurt me so much that you barely touch me at all." You nod slowly. You've always been so worried about crushing her that you didn't realize you'd gotten so soft, it's as though you're not there.


You don't like that. You want her to know you want to be there with her.


You lean forward slowly and kiss her softly, laying her body back down on the pillows. You deepen the kiss, nibbling at her bottom lip, and she squeaks, reaching up to rest her fingers against your neck. You smirk and grab her wrists, pinning them against the bed by her shoulders as you kiss the corner of her lips, her cheek, her neck. You hear her hum low in her throat and feel the rapid rise and fall of her chest beneath you. You nip at the skin at the base of her neck and suck, hard, leaving a purpling bruise behind and soothing it with your tongue.


"Did you just give me a hickey?" she asks, voice harsh and breath coming in heavy gulps. 


You pull back to look into her eyes, wary. "Yeah, sorry, that okay?" you ask sheepishly.


"Yes, god yes. Keep going," she grunts, leaning her head to give you more space and arching her back. You smirk and lean in to bite her neck again. She hums appreciatively, again, spurring you on. You feel her push against your hold on her wrists and you double down. She grunts, feeling your strength, and wriggles against you. You raise your hips so you can settle one of your legs between hers, your thigh against her center. The light pressure makes her hum your name. "Nicole."


"I'm right here, baby," you hush, kissing down her chest. You release her wrists so you can knead her breasts with your hands, alternating sucking on each nipple and nibbling at the undersides.


She gasps at the feeling of your teeth before releasing a feral moan as you soothe the nips with your tongue. You've never heard her make that sound before. It reverberates in your ears, sending shivers down your spine. You feel yourself grow quick and heady with arousal, but force it to the back of your mind and double down your focus on Waverly. You're kissing her stomach and scratching lines into her skin, and you feel her muscles jump and twitch under your ministrations.


By the time you're at the level of her sex, she's squirming and pushing against your shoulders, trying to force you down. You continue to move slowly, kissing at her lower belly and the creases at her thighs. "God, Nicole. Please," she grunts, and you revel in feeling just a little bit powerful. She's never begged you in bed before, either, and you're drunk on the way that turns you on. 


You blow a stream of hot air over her clit before sucking it into your mouth. You form a seal with your lips against Waverly and alternate between broad swipes with your tongue and sucking. She runs her fingers through your hair and her thighs snap around your ears, holding you in place. You force your hands against her thighs and push them into the bed hard. She whimpers and you feel the telltale quakes as her muscles draw taught, tightening and suspending as she reaches her release.


You redouble your efforts, closing your eyes and furrowing your brow. Her fingers are caught in your hair and pull as her body seizes in pleasure. You let out a small whine against the pain and she releases a quick, high-pitched moan as she feels the vibrations of your voice against her clit. You hum again after seeing her reaction, and her body loosens enough to let her arch her back.


Eventually Waverly settles, her body calm and boneless as her muscles release their tension. She basks in the aftershocks and tremors that run through her body, and you sit back to wipe your lips. "Was that okay?" you ask, sheepish at your roughness and timid.


"Okay?" She looks up at you, eyes glassy and smile lazy. "You've been holding out on me, Officer Haught." You blush, laying down next to her. You're a little bit snug as you settle on your side to watch her. "That was, like, the hottest thing ever." 


"I was worried I'd hurt you." You brush a lock of hair from her face and rub your thumb along her cheek. She smiles and turns her face to look at you. Her body is prone and she hasn't moved to cover up at all. You sneak a glance at her, and when you lick your lips, you hear her giggle knowingly. Oops, caught.


"Definitely not hurt. I can take a little bit of force here and there. I'm pretty strong," she says, matter-of-fact and reassuring you. Waverly rolls over so that you're on your sides facing one another. "Give me a minute, and I'll show you how strong I am."