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ellabs-weekend · 18 days ago

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Ok so I see a lot of people who don't understand the point of ellabs (EllieXAbby) and I want to attempt to explain why because why not.

The thing is, they don’t know each other.

By the time they interact in any part II post canon fic, it’s their first real interaction after deciding to change. Granted, Abby had already begun changing earlier (she’s the one who refused to initiate a fight after the Rattlers and let Ellie and Dina live at the theatre), but by the time they stop fighting in the Pacific ocean, Ellie has now also chosen to change (give up revenge, which has given her nothing in return so far and doesn't make her feel better. Abby already knows that, because she killed Joel a while ago and has already realized revenge doesn't help).

So now, they’re effectively new people, trying on new skins and personalities while standing beside someone who has seen them at their absolute lowest (Abby torturing and killing Joel is Ellie and Abby's first interaction. And then in Seattle, Ellie picks off all of Abby's friends but that's the first time Abby really sees who Ellie is as a person.)

The level of vulnerability here is insane : fear of judgment, fear of being seen as fake, fear that the new versions of themselves might still be awful and that the other might call them out on their bullshit or worse, expose them. They’re both projecting who they want to be now onto Lev because he’s the only unbiased person left. He’s a child, but he also doesn’t know their complicated past. He's also someone Abby already connected with (she's been with him for over a year now and they likely have developed a strong friendship, meanwhile Ellie raised JJ who I'm pretty sure is a huge reason why Ellie didn't fully spiral upon returning: he gave her something to do and look out for).

And so Ellie and Abby perceive each other through two conflicting lenses simultaneously: the monster the other knows me to be vs. the person I’m trying to become now.

And that’s why Ellabs is such an interesting ship to explore.

It’s about the reinvention of self and the deconstruction of old beliefs in the presence of someone deeply traumatized by those very beliefs.

We know Abby and Ellie’s character archetypes. We’ve seen gruff Joel slowly break through Ellie’s walls (and vice versa), so we’re subconsciously aware that, under different circumstances, Ellie and Abby would likely get along, since Abby is also a version of Joel (as we have seen through basically 95% of Abby's actions, Joel's murder notwithstanding).

We know this shift is possible because we've literally just seen it happen: Abby abandoned her loyalty to the WLF to help the Seraphite kids, despite owing Isaac everything (Isaac gave her a team and resources to go achieve her unique goal of murdering a guy, which was all Abby cared about). We also know Ellie is now utterly alone (Dina broke up with her, there's not returning to the farm to find a happy family. Dina tells her she's not doing this again, which is actually funny because it's also what Abby says at the beach. Ellie's quest for revenge lasts longer than everyone else's in the game. She is the LAST one to change), desperate for either death or something new to care about. She’d never bend for Abby, but Lev--an innocent kid who showed her mercy (stopping Abby from killing her and Dina in the theater)--could make her stick around. He’s untainted. She also feels gratitude; without Lev, she and Dina would be dead.

This also means Ellie realizes Abby has changed. The woman who brutalized Joel with a golf club (yet spared her and Tommy) is now restrained by Lev’s influence (re: theatre scene, where he stops her from killing Dina by calling out her name). Ellie knows Abby is not as ruthless as the act of killing Joel made her seem: Lev’s stayed with her for over a year, and Abby clearly cares for him deeply. If Ellie didn’t see Abby as worthy of doubt--seeded by Lev--she’d have killed her (as she's done many times before with other people).

Also, Abby knows Ellie isn’t a heartless monster. Yes, Ellie murdered all of her friends, but she also confessed and basically sacrificed herself to save Tommy, which is proof she operates by a code. Militia logic dictates that codes matter. Yet Ellie’s violence also shows she’ll slaughter those outside her tribe without hesitation (Abby and surrounding people are not her tribe by that point).

Abby also witnesses what she thinks is Ellie’s mercy when Ellie cuts her down to save Lev. That's why she says "there are boats". She’s offering an olive branch after (mis)realizing Ellie extended one first.

Then again, I don’t think Ellie waited for Abby to set Lev on the boat to act. She followed because she had no idea what to do next. She traveled for months to avenge Joel, only to confront the reality that Abby isn’t the immortal monster she imagined--just a human who suffers like everyone else. Seeing her so emaciated is catapulting Abby out of monster realm and into human one in Ellie’s mind.

And Ellie, as we know, is not a psychopath; her violence isn’t for fun. She’s shaken by Abby’s state and only realizes last-minute (she turns her back on Abby, she looks pensive, she could let Abby go) that sparing her means all of this was for nothing--the one thing Ellie can’t accept. She desperately wants all of this to have been for something. Joel butchered dozens of people to save her. Then Abby tracked and killed him. Then Ellie killed Abby's friends and had to confront her own violence, then her own selfishness by going after Abby instead of staying with her family. If she lets Abby go, then this will have been for nothing.

And now they are stuck together, having gone through all these changes and completely unmoored by the other's action, and then saved by them.

That’s why forced post-canon proximity is so compelling: you take two people bound by hatred and explore how long it takes for their biases to crumble. It's about showing a person who knows you a certain way you aren't that way anymore. They could do this with anyone else, but it would be less interesting, because one of the major appeal of the ship is the forgiveness aspect. Both of each other and of themselves. They cannot do that part without the other.

That’s the interesting part. Finding meaning after losing everything.

So I wrote a fic about it

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ellabs-weekend · 24 days ago

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WANNA BET?

pairing: ellie williams/abby anderson

contents: 18+ content!! bottom!ellie, service top!abby, fucking out of spite?, pussy eating, fingering, finger sucking, hair-pulling, slight edging, squirting

word count: 4,967

It’s always a fight between Ellie and Abby. Always. Not the serious kind, but the kind that feels incredibly immature and incredibly fun. And, keeping it honest, it’s pretty much always Ellie’s fault. She thrives on competition like it’s oxygen. Loves to win. Loves it even more when she can lean back, all smug and triumphant, and shove that win right in Abby’s face.

She’ll turn literally anything into a contest—arm-wrestling, five-second trivia, how long they can go without blinking. On occasion, she's even childish enough to stoop to the random breath-holding contest. The thing is, Ellie doesn’t really care what they’re doing. She just wants Abby’s full attention, undivided and locked on her, like a spotlight. She wants to feel like she’s the center of the goddamn universe, even if it means being obnoxious to get there.

Naturally, she doesn’t always win. Honestly, she suspects she loses more often than she realizes—Abby has that frustrating little half-smile she wears when she’s holding back, letting Ellie have the victory like she’s a kid who needs it more. And that makes Ellie absolutely feral. If Abby’s letting her win, it doesn’t count. It’s not real. It just lights a fire in Ellie’s chest and makes her double down, desperate to prove she’s got the edge fair and square.

Which is how she ends up in her current predicament: flat on her back at the mercy of Abby Anderson.

It had all started earlier that evening. Joel had gone off on one of his trips with Tess, and Ellie—left alone in the big, echoey farmhouse—texted Abby like reflex. Come over. I’m bored. Abby showed up less than an hour later, because of course she did.

They made dinner. Or rather, Abby made dinner while Ellie hovered, stealing bites straight from the pan and offering commentary like a backseat chef. Abby grumbled but let her do it, because she always does. Afterward, they sprawled on the couch in the den, half-watching a movie neither of them were really paying attention to. It was comfort. Familiar. Normal.

Then, inevitably, things derail because Ellie can’t help herself. It's a talent, really. One minute they’re trading stories and half-watching a movie, and the next, the conversation takes a sharp left into explicit territory. It’s just what she does. She could say it’s because she’s sexually liberated, a modern woman unafraid to talk about her desires. Abby, however, tends to chalk it up to Ellie being a huge pervert.

“I refuse to believe you’re fucking more than me,” Ellie declares, throwing her head back onto the couch with theatrical flair. “I bet you suck at it anyway. That’s why you have so many lovers.”

Abby snorts, low and indulgent. “Oh yeah?”

“Don’t feel too bad, Abs,” Ellie says, patting Abby’s arm in a mock-sympathetic gesture. And if her hand lingers just a second longer than necessary, if her fingers press lightly into the definition of Abby’s bicep like she’s taking mental notes? That’s her business. “Some people just aren’t good at making girls come. It’s a skill. Not everyone’s got it. I do, though. You be safe out there.”

Abby turns toward her, slow and deliberate. The kind of shift that feels like it changes the air pressure in the room. Her gaze sharpens, unreadable and dark, eyes narrowing like she’s solving an equation Ellie doesn’t even know she posed.

“If I didn’t know any better,” Abby says, voice calm but with just the barest edge of amusement, “I’d think you’re fishing, Williams.”

Ellie barely manages to suppress the smirk that tugs at her lips. She angles her face toward the ceiling, wide-eyed and faux-innocent. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Abby leans in slightly—close enough for Ellie to catch the faint scent of her shampoo, something clean and vaguely woodsy. Her smile is razor-sharp and wickedly patient.

“If you want me to make you come,” she says, voice dropping into something low and rich and dangerous, “you can just ask.”

And just like that, Ellie’s brain short-circuits.

A logical, intelligent person would hit pause here. Maybe consider the ramifications of sleeping with your friend—of crossing a line that once blurred won’t easily go back. But logic has taken a backseat, and her brain is currently mush. Abby’s voice has gone husky, oozing with intent, and Ellie is struggling to remember her own name, let alone any sound reasoning.

Still, she can’t give in. Not all at once. That’s not how this works. There are rules to the game. Posturing. Banter. Pride.

“As if you could make me come,” she fires back, with the kind of cocky bravado that’s meant to provoke. Because it always has to be a fight.

"Wanna bet?"

Ellie can't help the shit-eating grin that spreads across her lips. "Oh, you're on." She has never wanted to lose more in her life.

There’s a beat where neither moves, but everything shifts. And then they’re moving, like a dam’s burst open and both of them are caught in the flood.

Abby’s the first to stand, and Ellie scrambles up after her, grabbing Abby’s wrist with a breathless, “Come on,” as she tugs her toward the stairs.

They barely make it through the doorway before Ellie’s kicking aside the piles of laundry cluttering her floor. She grabs a shirt, a pair of jeans, maybe a sock—who knows—and tosses them all toward the corner in a desperate attempt at clearing space.

“Jesus, Els,” Abby says with a grin, stepping inside and letting the door swing shut behind her. “You live like this?”

“Shut up,” Ellie huffs, a little out of breath, “you’re lucky I even have sheets on the bed.”

Abby wastes no time. She crosses the room in three easy strides and suddenly she’s there—right there—crowding Ellie back until the backs of her knees hit the mattress. Her presence is impossible to ignore, all heat and height and solid muscle. Ellie swallows, defiant and breathless all at once.

And then Abby kisses her.

It’s not a soft, testing kind of kiss—it’s all confidence and hunger, her hands already on Ellie’s waist, her mouth insistent and sure. Ellie meets it with fire of her own, hands fisting into the front of Abby’s shirt like she can anchor herself there, like she needs something to hold onto or she’ll float off the planet entirely.

Abby pulls back just long enough to smirk. “Going soft already? You must really like losing.”

“I’m not losing,” Ellie snaps, cheeks flushed, lips kissed pink. “You wish.”

But her voice trembles slightly, and Abby doesn’t miss it.

“Oh, baby,” Abby murmurs, low and indulgent, brushing her fingers under the hem of Ellie’s shirt. “You’re already squirming.”

“I’m not,” Ellie lies—bold-faced, trembling, backed up against her own bed while Abby towers over her. It's a difficult sight not to be moved by. “I just didn't know you'd be so aggressive.”

Abby laughs, that slow, dangerous laugh again. “You say that like it’s a problem.”

She tugs Ellie’s shirt up and off in one smooth motion, Ellie raising her arms automatically, like her brain’s too busy short-circuiting to protest. Abby’s hands are on her immediately, calloused and warm, slow enough to be thorough, fast enough to make Ellie’s knees feel like a suggestion.

“You gonna keep running your mouth,” Abby murmurs, pressing her thigh between Ellie’s legs as she lowers her gently onto the bed, “or are you gonna let me win for once?”

Ellie grabs a fistful of Abby’s shirt, yanking her down for another kiss that’s more teeth than lips. “M'not like you. I never let you win.”

“Oh, I know,” Abby says, mouth trailing kisses down Ellie’s jaw, then lower still, “But I don’t need you to let me.”

Ellie’s breath catches. Abby grins against her skin.

“God, you’re responsive,” she says, voice low and awed and way too smug. “You act all tough but the second I touch you…”

“I swear to god,” Ellie hisses, fingers digging into Abby’s shoulders like she’s trying to anchor herself back to that last shred of dignity, “if you keep narrating—”

“What?” Abby grins, biting lightly at Ellie’s collarbone. “It’s cute. You’re cute.”

“Shut up.”

Ellie’s demand is only granted because Abby, mercifully, finds a better use for her mouth.

She closes her lips around Ellie’s nipple, warm and wet, flicking her tongue over the hardening bud with maddening precision. Ellie’s breath hitches. Her hips twitch. Abby anchors her with one firm hand splayed across her stomach, keeping her grounded, steadying her like she knows exactly how close she is to unraveling already. And maybe she does.

Her free hand trails downward, fingers tracing the bare skin of Ellie’s stomach with infuriating slowness, dancing just above the waistband of her sleep shorts. She doesn’t even slip her hand beneath them—just grazes along the edge, lazy and teasing, and it’s shameful how much that alone affects Ellie. She bites her lip hard, trying to choke down the sound trying to claw its way up her throat.

Abby hums against her skin, lips dragging to the other nipple, lavishing it with the same attention—this time adding a gentle bite that makes Ellie gasp aloud, sharp and helpless.

“That was a pretty sound,” Abby murmurs, her voice low and smug against Ellie’s chest, breath hot and heavy. Her fingers finally slip beneath the soft cotton of Ellie’s waistband, knuckles brushing lower. “Got any more for me?”

“Fuck you,” Ellie breathes, voice trembly and defensive and far too raw to sound convincing.

“That’s not very nice,” Abby says, straightening just enough to pout. Pout. Like she hasn’t already wrecked Ellie’s ability to form complete thoughts. “And here I am being so generous.”

Ellie opens her mouth to throw something back—something cutting or flippant or clever—but Abby’s already sliding down, mouth dragging hot kisses lower and lower, along her ribs, the curve of her belly, across the sensitive dip of her hip. Her fingers hook the waistband of Ellie’s shorts and panties, tugging them down slowly as she goes, her lips following every inch of skin revealed like it’s a damn pilgrimage.

By the time the shorts are halfway down her thighs, Ellie’s practically vibrating with tension, propped on her elbows and watching with wide eyes, like if she looks away she’ll lose her grip on whatever control she thinks she still has.

Abby kneels at the edge of the bed and makes a show of dragging Ellie’s shorts all the way off, tossing them somewhere behind her without so much as a glance. Then she slides her arms beneath Ellie’s thighs, lifting and pulling her forward with ease—like she weighs nothing, like Abby’s body was built for this exact moment. Ellie lets out a surprised, involuntary breath as her back hits the mattress and Abby settles between her legs on the floor, close and steady and entirely too composed.

“Jesus,” Ellie mutters, trying to sound annoyed instead of wrecked. “You having fun manhandling me?”

Abby grins, her hands spreading over the outside of Ellie’s thighs like she’s staking a claim. “Didn’t hear you complaining.”

“I wasn’t complaining,” Ellie snaps, then immediately realizes how that sounds. “I mean—I wasn’t not—ugh, shut up.”

Abby chuckles, low and satisfied, like Ellie’s fluster is a gift. She presses a kiss to the inside of one thigh, then another, working her way in slow, teasing circles, watching Ellie squirm above her.

“You know,” Abby says between kisses, her breath hot and maddening against sensitive skin, “for someone who talks so much, you’re awfully quiet now.”

Ellie glares down at her, chest heaving, hair wild. “Maybe you should take a page from my—fuck.”

The rest of the sentence dissolves into a ragged moan as Abby licks a long, purposeful stripe through her center and buries her face like she’s been starving for this. Her arms hook tighter under Ellie’s thighs, dragging her closer with the kind of strength that makes her head spin. There’s no patience, no pretense—just Abby, utterly gone for it, moaning into her like she’s tasting something sacred, rocking slightly like she can’t help herself.

Ellie fists the sheets at her sides, back arching off the mattress. “Holy shit,” she breathes, voice cracking at the edges.

Abby doesn't let up. She’s messy with it, relentless. Her tongue works in slow, devastating patterns one second, then flicks quick and eager the next. She’s loud—obscene, even—the wet sounds, the soft groans of appreciation, the way she keeps muttering things into Ellie like she’s praying into her.

“So fucking good,” Abby mumbles, barely audible but desperate, needy. “Tastes so good, baby. Can’t get enough.”

Ellie feels like she’s going to combust. Her pride, her wit, her well-practiced bravado is slipping through her fingers like sand. She tangles one hand in Abby’s hair, tugging sharply, and Abby groans in response—like she likes that, like it only eggs her on.

Ellie tries to keep her voice steady. “You're such a try-hard.”

Abby doesn’t even look up. “You love it.”

Ellie lets out a frustrated, fractured sound, thighs tightening around Abby’s shoulders. She’s getting close, closer than she’s willing to admit, her hips rocking helplessly, chasing the rhythm Abby’s set. Her other hand clutches Abby’s wrist like a lifeline.

“God—fuck, Abby—don’t stop, don’t—”

But she does. Just as Ellie’s about to tip over the edge, Abby pulls away with a slick mouth and flushed cheeks, looking far too pleased with herself.

“Gonna come already?” she asks, smug and breathless. “Ready to lose already?”

Ellie glares down at her, panting. Her legs twitch in protest, every nerve still thrumming.

“No,” she bites, trying to sound indignant instead of wrecked. “I wasn’t.”

“Oh?” Abby’s eyes sparkle as she kisses her inner thigh again, slow and teasing. “Sounded like it.”

“I wasn’t,” Ellie insists, dragging her fingers through her own hair, trying to collect herself and failing. “You stopped before anything happened.”

Abby tilts her head, resting her chin just above Ellie’s knee. “So you’re saying I should keep going?”

Ellie narrows her eyes. “I’m saying you better.”

Abby grins, pleased beyond measure. “Say please.”

Ellie groans. “I hate you.”

Abby clicks her tongue, amusement dancing behind her eyes as she stands with a slow, predatory stretch. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, and for one harrowing second, Ellie thinks she’s going to stop. But then Abby’s gaze drops back down, dark and knowing.

“Looks like you just need a little more,” she says, voice rich with promise. “You’re not gonna make this easy for me, are you?”

“Gotta make you work for it,” Ellie fires back, trying to sound flippant—but the tremor in her voice gives her away.

That smug grin on Abby’s face only sharpens. Without breaking eye contact, she peels off her clothes with calm, deliberate ease, letting each piece fall into a careless pile. Ellie tries not to stare. Fails spectacularly. The muscle, the sheer presence of Abby is overwhelming. Broad shoulders. Defined arms. Solid core. It’s all too much and not enough all at once.

Abby climbs back onto the bed like she owns it—like she owns her—and drags Ellie with her. There’s no room for protest, not when Ellie finds herself suddenly straddling Abby’s hips, bare skin pressed to bare skin, heat radiating between them like an open flame.

Ellie swallows hard, pulse hammering in her throat. Her hands instinctively find Abby’s shoulders, clinging there like they’re the only solid thing left in the world.

Abby lifts one hand, cradles Ellie’s jaw with unexpected tenderness, thumb stroking over the apple of her cheek. “Be good,” she murmurs, voice low and intimate. “Open for me.”

She traces her finger along the seam of Ellie’s lips.

They part with a shameful sort of eagerness.

Abby’s smile deepens—something soft but wicked. “Good girl,” she praises, and Ellie nearly melts on the spot.

Then Abby slips two fingers past her lips, slow and sure. Ellie lets her, her mouth closing around them automatically. Abby doesn’t thrust—yet—just lets them sit heavy on Ellie’s tongue, warm and slick with the faint taste of her. Ellie breathes through her nose, eyes fluttering shut for a moment.

Then Abby begins to move.

She fucks Ellie’s mouth with her fingers in lazy, controlled strokes—gentle at first, coaxing her open, then deeper, filthier. Her other hand rests on the back of Ellie’s neck, holding her steady, thumb brushing the nape of her neck in an oddly grounding rhythm. The whole thing is maddeningly slow, and Ellie can’t tell if she’s being teased or tamed.

“You look so good like this,” Abby murmurs, watching her with open hunger. “Mouth full. Eyes all hazy.”

Ellie glares at her—well, tries to. The effect is somewhat undercut by the fact that she’s choking slightly around Abby’s fingers, breathing hard through her nose, cheeks flushed with heat.

“Still gonna pretend you’re not into this?” Abby teases, fingers pressing deeper. “You’re dripping. I can feel it.”

Ellie whimpers, just barely, and hates herself for it.

Abby pulls her fingers free with a soft pop, dragging them slowly across Ellie’s bottom lip, wiping up a mess she made.

“There she is,” Abby whispers. “Still gonna be stubborn, huh?”

Ellie licks her lips, refusing to look away. “You haven’t earned it yet.”

Abby grins—sharp and devastating.

“Oh,” she says, voice rough with anticipation, “I will.”

At a maddeningly slow pace, Abby works her middle finger into Ellie’s warm heat. Ellie’s thighs twitch where they straddle her hips, her whole body instinctively clenching down around the intrusion.

“You’re so fucking wet, Els,” Abby murmurs, utterly transfixed by the slick glide. Her voice is low, reverent, almost awed. “You can take another, can’t you, baby?”

“Yeah,” Ellie breathes, already nodding, hands clutching at Abby’s biceps. “Fuck. Yeah.”

Abby obliges, sliding a second finger in with deliberate care, watching the way Ellie reacts—her eyes fluttering, lips parting around a sharp, desperate gasp. Abby flexes her fingers inside her, curling up just enough to make Ellie jerk, her hips stuttering without her meaning to.

“There it is,” Abby says with a grin. “Thought I felt that spot.”

She keeps her fingers still for a moment, just inside, letting Ellie get used to the stretch—but also letting the anticipation build. Her free hand travels up, calloused fingers skating over Ellie’s ribs before cupping one breast, thumb brushing lazily over the nipple.

Ellie moans—quiet, but unmistakable.

“Ride ’em,” Abby says, her voice slipping into something firm. Commanding. “C’mon. Show me how bad you want it.”

Ellie hesitates for half a second—then obeys, sinking down onto Abby’s hand with a shaky breath. The stretch, the fullness—it’s too much and not enough, and the angle has her grinding forward without even thinking. She rocks her hips again, then again, building a rhythm that makes her whole body tremble.

“That’s it,” Abby coaxes, her thumb pinching Ellie’s nipple just enough to make her gasp. “God, you’re so fucking hot like this.”

Her other hand slides between them, finding Ellie’s clit with a practiced touch that’s almost cruel in its precision. The moment she brushes it, Ellie’s hips falter, a broken whimper escaping her throat.

“Sensitive, huh?” Abby teases, fingers curling again deep inside her. “Thought you were gonna win, baby.”

“I—shut up,” Ellie pants, aiming for stern. Her breath is coming in uneven bursts now, every nerve in her body strung tight.

“Oh, I like you like this,” Abby whispers. “All loud and needy. So much for keeping quiet.”

Ellie chokes on a sound that might be a moan or a curse—she doesn’t even know anymore. Abby keeps up the pressure, circling her clit in time with the thrust of her fingers. Every curl inside her makes her thighs shake. She tries to keep control, tries to hold on, but it’s slipping—fast.

“Abby—fuck—Abby, please.”

Abby’s lips curve in smug delight. “There she is. Begging already.”

“Shut up,” Ellie groans, but it’s breathless, wrecked, her hips chasing Abby’s hand like it’s the only thing tethering her to the earth. “Don’t—don’t stop.”

“Say it again.”

Ellie shudders, her pride crumbling around her. “Please. Please don’t stop.”

Abby rewards her with a rougher thrust, curling her fingers deep and brushing right up against that devastating spot inside her. Ellie cries out, head thrown back, mouth open.

Ellie’s rhythm starts to stutter, her breath catching with each snap of her hips. Abby’s fingers are relentless now—slick and steady, curling just right, rubbing against that unbearable spot inside her while her thumb circles her clit with maddening precision.

“You close, baby?” Abby murmurs, gaze locked on Ellie’s flushed, wrecked face. “You gonna come for me?”

“Fuck...you,” Ellie gasps, which isn’t a no.

Abby grins, cruel and delighted. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

Ellie tries to hold on. She wants to hold on. But her body betrays her—hips jerking erratically, thighs trembling, a guttural sound clawing its way out of her throat as her climax tears through her. She crashes forward into Abby, moaning into her shoulder as she rides it out, her whole body taut and shaking.

Abby slows her hand, easing her through it, fingers still buried inside her. When Ellie finally collapses, boneless and breathless against her chest, Abby chuckles low in her throat.

“So,” she says, cocky as ever. “Looks like I just made you come.”

Ellie lifts her head, hair wild, eyes still half-lidded and hazy. “Nu-uh.”

Abby blinks. “What?”

Ellie smirks, voice hoarse but triumphant. “You can't prove it.”

Abby narrows her eyes. “You cannot be serious.”

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Ellie says, trying to shrug even as her limbs are jelly. “It's your word against mine.”

Abby withdraws her fingers slowly—so slowly that Ellie shivers at the loss—and holds them up between them. They glisten in the low light, absolutely soaked. Abby raises one brow as she licks them clean, savoring the taste with an exaggerated hum.

“Well,” she says, tone dripping with faux sweetness, “this tastes like someone came.”

Ellie bites her lip, not quite hiding her blush. “Well, when you really think about it, I was the one doing the riding. That orgasm was pretty much self-inflicted.”

“Oh, is that right?”

Before Ellie can blink, Abby grabs her by the hips and flips her over with terrifying ease, pinning her to the mattress with one strong arm braced above her head. Her body hovers over Ellie’s, all heat and muscle and unyielding presence.

“You just love making things difficult,” Abby growls, dipping her head to nip at Ellie’s jaw. “Guess we’ll just have to go again.”

Ellie stares up at her, lips parting like she’s about to protest—only to let out a breathless squeak as Abby presses her back into the mattress with her hips, grinding slow and heavy against her still-sensitive core.

“I'm not stopping until you know it was me,” Abby whispers, grinning against her throat. “No more technicalities.”

Ellie swallows hard, already breathless again. “Fine,” she mutters, trying to sound unaffected.

Ellie doesn’t even get the chance to gather her breath before Abby’s trailing kisses down her body, slow and deliberate, all heat and teeth and quiet little promises. Ellie tries to keep her face neutral, tries not to look as undone as she feels, but her heart is hammering and her thighs are already trying to close.

“Don’t even think about it,” Abby warns, pushing them apart with ease. Her strength is casual, effortless, but Ellie feels it like a pulse in her core. “You wanted to be stubborn. Now you get the full treatment.”

Ellie snorts, or tries to. It comes out as more of a shaky exhale. “You’re so full of yourself.”

“And you’re so wet,” Abby shoots back, dragging her tongue along Ellie’s inner thigh. “Which means I get to be.”

She licks a path up, purposefully avoiding where Ellie wants her most. Ellie groans, rolling her hips upward in a silent plea, but Abby presses a firm hand to her stomach to keep her pinned.

“Nu-uh. Use your words.”

“Are you serious right now?” Ellie huffs.

Abby gives her a look. “I haven’t even started being serious.”

Then, without warning, she leans in and finally takes Ellie into her mouth. She flattens her tongue and drags it slow and heavy up through her folds, lingering on her clit just long enough to make Ellie whimper.

Ellie’s hand flies into Abby’s hair, fingers tightening, not guiding so much as holding on for dear life. Abby moans against her, the vibration shooting straight through Ellie’s spine.

Then, just as Ellie’s starting to fall into it, Abby pulls back.

“Beg.”

Ellie blinks down at her, eyes wide. “Are you kidding me—”

Abby raises a brow, her fingers already teasing at Ellie’s entrance. “You wanna come again?” she asks, all saccharine cruelty. “Then tell me what you want.”

“You are such a fuckin' asshole.”

“That’s not a request.”

“Jesus fucking Christ. Abby please make me come with your stupid mouth and your big, stupid fingers.”

Abby looks at her for a long moment, clearly not amused by her lack of effort. Heat rises to Ellie's cheeks as she chokes down what little bit of her pride remains. "Abby," she says, voice impossibly soft. "Please...please make me feel good. I want you to make me come."

Abby grins, savage and satisfied. “See? That wasn’t so hard.”

And then she’s on her again, mouth latching onto Ellie’s clit with unrelenting purpose. Her fingers slide in—three this time, easy from how wet Ellie is—and immediately curl, hitting that same devastating spot that made her fall apart the first time.

Ellie’s whole body arches off the bed, a strangled cry tearing from her lips. Abby keeps the pressure perfect, sucking and flicking her tongue while her fingers work a steady rhythm that has Ellie falling apart at the seams.

“Abby. Abby. Abby! Don't stop...fuck, please don't stop.”

Abby doesn’t. If anything, she doubles down, one arm thrown across Ellie’s hips to hold her down as she fucks her with mouth and fingers in perfect, brutal tandem. Every flick, every thrust sends sparks up Ellie’s spine, her vision going white at the edges. She feels like she's going to die.

“Abby—Abby. Fuck, I can’t—”

“Yes you can,” Abby growls, pulling back just enough to speak. Her breath is hot and damp against Ellie’s skin. “You’re gonna. Come on, Els. Give it to me.”

That’s all it takes.

Her hips buck, legs trembling violently as her orgasm hits like a tidal wave. It’s too much, her body going tight, then loose, then tight again as a gush of wetness spills out around Abby’s fingers. Abby groans, watching it happen like she’s witnessing something holy, and doesn’t stop until Ellie is gasping for air, her voice hoarse and broken, hands fisting the sheets.

Abby finally slows, drawing her fingers out gently and licking them clean without shame.

“Well,” she says smugly, collapsing beside Ellie with a self-satisfied sigh. “I think that one was definitely me.”

Ellie, still blinking up at the ceiling like she’s trying to remember what year it is, manages a breathless, “...Fuck...my sheets.”

But her voice is ruined.

Ellie isn’t sure how long she’s been lying there, half-sprawled and vaguely boneless, but she's more concerned with corralling her soul back into her body.

Abby finally climbs off the bed, tugging on a pair of sweatpants and walking like she just won the fuckin’ Olympics.

“Stay put,” she says, voice a low rumble as she leans down and presses a kiss to Ellie’s forehead. “I got you.”

Ellie hums something between a groan and a purr as Abby disappears into the bathroom. She hears water running, a drawer open and close, and then Abby’s back—gentle, focused, and annoyingly competent as she helps Ellie clean up with a warm, damp cloth and soft hands.

“I can do that,” Ellie mutters, face burning even as she melts under the attention.

“Yeah?” Abby raises an eyebrow, dabbing at Ellie’s thighs with exaggerated care. “You seemed pretty out of commission a second ago.”

Ellie flips her off weakly. Abby grins and kisses the tip of her finger before heading back to the bathroom.

When she returns, she tosses Ellie a cold bottle of water. “Hydrate or die-drate.”

Ellie fumbles it but gets it open. “You’re lucky I’m too tired to hit you with this.”

“I’ll take that as gratitude.”

Ellie doesn’t answer. She’s already rolled off the bed and curled herself into the squishy embrace of her oversized beanbag chair, wrapped in nothing but Abby’s shirt—which swallows her whole and still smells like detergent and sweat and Abby.

Abby starts stripping the bed of its very damp sheets without complaint, balling them up and tossing them into the laundry bin in the corner like this is just…everyday shit.

“Jesus,” Ellie mutters, watching her. “You’re so domestic.”

Abby glances over her shoulder and winks. “Just for you, Els.”

When the bed’s remade with fresh sheets and everything’s clean again, Abby scoops Ellie right out of her beanbag like she weighs nothing. Ellie squawks but doesn’t fight it, just buries her face in Abby’s shoulder and lets herself be carried like a very grumpy, very pleased kitten.

They settle under the blanket, tangled together, and it’s warm and quiet and soft. Abby stretches out on her back, Ellie half on top of her, tracing idle lines on her stomach with one finger.

“Just admit it,” Abby murmurs, her hand brushing lazily along Ellie’s spine. “I won.”

Ellie snorts. “You’re really proud of yourself, huh?”

“Extremely.”

“You shouldn’t be.”

“Oh?”

Ellie shifts, just enough to glance up at her. There’s still heat in her eyes, but now it’s tempered by sleep and something that might be affection. “I could probably make you come harder.”

Abby’s eyes spark with interest. “Wanna bet?”

Ellie grins, slow and sharp and sleepy. “Always.”

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