you're too young & eager to love

My cat is trying to lick my nose while I type this >_>

Before I try to jump back into the sci-fi genre, I wanted to post some pure Emere and Mia fluff. To prove that they can, indeed, be fluffy. I had a lot more planned, but I ran out of steam because I got sleepy - which means it's just about nap time for me.

I'm amused that Emere's fluff somehow involves sex. Amused, yet not surprised.

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Sitting Indian-style on the bed, drinking her black coffee, Emere says, “I can’t take care of you.”

Mia shifts beneath the blanket, her hips rolling in the direction of the other’s voice as her fingers search and find the warmth of her leg. “Good. I can’t take care of you either.”

Consenting, the Italian makes a noise though the rim of her coffee cup swallows it. “I was willing to look these details over, but it’s just not going to work.”

Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Mia isn’t sure if she should start listening to the way her pulse has quickened. Emere sounds casual; she’s using her strictly business tone, and Mia imagines her sitting, using a mug that costs too much, looking at but not really reading the newspaper in her lap. Emere’s mostly just turning the pages to add noise to the still, morning air. “… What won’t?”

“You living with me. Your dog chases my cat. It keeps me up at night. Aren’t those types of dogs supposed to be helpful and obedient, not distracting?”

Shifting again, rolling even further towards the woman, a woman that may be, slowly, becoming hers, Mia bites her lip. She’s weighing the words, feeling a smile stretch the corners of her mouth hesitantly. “You want me to live with you?”

The bed dips when Emere moves, the newspaper rustles some before she places it on the end table. Now that she’s standing, Mia is left wondering about her location, but she thinks she feels the way Emere lifts her shoulders in a shrug through the air. “Think about it.” She suggests, pressing a kiss to her ear before leaving the bedroom, making Mia’s entire neck flush with warmth.

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The chrome colored curtain rattles faintly, and Mia turns away fast, drawing an arm across her bare chest as if she’s cold. Emere steps into the shower behind her and draws the curtain. When she glances at the model, she sees an acre of pale skin; her eyes slid up over the bump of her collarbone, and then she moves past Mia, her Mediterranean body sliding against hers, until she’s standing under the spray of hot water. Her heavy hair darkens, sticks to the backs of her shoulders, when the water hits it.

It doesn’t make sense, but Mia’s too embarrassed to turn fully toward her - she’s all twisted up with panic and desire – but Emere makes everything easy by running her palms up her spine. Follows the knots and digs her fingers into the pressure points at the base of her neck. It makes her head loll, the steam and heat and fingers relaxing her. Emere buries her face in her hair and pulls her back, more firmly against her.

“Oh.” Mia breathes, and she’s about to twist around to kiss her when one of Emere’s hands slides down over her stomach and between her legs, pushing in and melting her spine. She almost loses her footing, but Emere has her: one arm curved around her narrow waist and her head bent so their cheeks touch.

Afterwards, she’s surprised when Emere touches her face and kisses her. There’s nothing smug about the action, just her full mouth against hers.

They both take towels, Emere looping her hair into a wet, messy ponytail that drips down her back. Sitting on the rim of ceramic that lines the shower, Mia wears her towel like a dress, rubs the cotton against her damp skin that’s still blotched red. She listens to Emere opening bathroom shelves, hears the tsk and groan of dissatisfaction.

“Your choice of product, Mia, is horrifying.”

Mia laughs loud enough that the noise reverberates off the walls.

So this is living together, she thinks, and it makes her laugh a little more.

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