#and i wrote nearly 6k of smut today

[chenouttachen]

may i finally present to you all, the 'how the hell jeff managed to graduate university' fic, in all her 33k glory! enjoy!

[bigbadripley]

Chapter 16 - fue mejor

Marc Spector/Steven Grant(Jake Lockley?) x Female!OC

Summary: Marc never expected to see his childhood friend Simone ever again. To Simone, Marc may as well have been dead. However, when Simone met Steven 15 years after Marc disappeared, she couldn’t help but notice how familiar he was.

⚠️ 18+!! | 6k Words | Third-person omniscient | Dark?fic/Angst/Smut | AU/AT |

Warnings: Heavy language, OC with religious trauma, childhood trauma, sexual trauma, prison/kidnapping/murder mention, heavy Jake flirtation, alcohol, smoking, **I won’t be exhaustive with the smut warnings. All you need to know is Steven gets laid, unprotected p in v, jealous!Marc** mention of previous sexual encounter (hate!sex, respectfully) Safe travels!***

A/N: I update warnings with each chapter. Only proceed if you can handle the themes included in the warnings. I wrote this entirely as a trauma dump.

Minors DNI, DL;DR, if I miss a warning, please let me know.

Chapter list

"Desde la primera vez que me probaste Duro dejarte ir cuando lo haces así Te hace sentir bueno cuando me Tratas tan mal, tú Me diste más de lo que te pedí Told you "I'm ready," so why won't you let me?" -"fue mejor" by Kali Uchis

  The circle made with red marker on the calendar magnetized to the fridge beamed in Simone's eyes as she sipped her coffee. Every tool used to track days were marked the same, so she would remember as if one wasn't enough. 

The day had come much faster than she anticipated, and she was anxious as hell about it. Red circles on calendars signified important dates for Simone, and this was a date she had been dreading for the last three months. 

It was time for her quarterly visit to inmate JW-0290, John Walton. 

She only took Walton as her patient three years ago, once the psych who worked there realized the inmate needed one-on-one visits. That was when his lawyer called Simone, and she took the job, thinking a visit every three months wouldn't be so bad.

Every time she saw Walton, she left with a feeling of unease. The man gave her the jeebies, and she soon realized that though he had committed a horrible crime, he didn't need to be in prison.

He needed to be evaluated by a team of doctors in a mental facility with around-the-clock treatment. Not just her on a quarterly visit. 

Simone took the final sip of coffee from her floral mug and sat it in the sink, heading out for the day. On red circle days, she never deviated from her routine, keeping everything in order from when she woke up to when she left the prison like it was the Ides of March. 

This included taking a cab to her destination instead of her car in case she needed a drink to calm her nerves afterward. There was never a time when she didn't need something stiff after meeting with Walton, so this also became part of the routine. 

She lit a cigarette the moment she stepped out of the heavy metal doors of her stonewalled building, but the cab she called soon came into view. She felt ready to tackle this and unprepared all at once, running through everything in her head nervously. 

Pen. Pad. Phone. Apartment key. Smokes. Wallet. 

Everything she needed was on her person, so she was ready to head out. Upon opening the door to the cab, she slipped into the backseat and smoothed out her gray dress pants upon placing herself into the leather cushion. 

Before Simone could speak, she looked up and saw a familiar face in a newsboy cap turn to greet her. The last time she saw the men who shared this face was during a moment of weakness a week before after receiving a come hither text and feeling a need for an orgasm that wasn't caused by her own hand. She had not seen or spoken to them before that, not since their fight, and hadn't seen or spoken to them since the random booty call. 

She missed them but couldn't express it, even if it seemed immature and petty.

Seeing Jake was not on the agenda today, just like seeing Marc or Steven wasn't. It nearly spooked her out of the seat her amble ass sat in. 

"Oh, what the hell." She said under her breath as soon as the face registered in her brain. A wide smile spread across the lower half of Jake's face, seeming genuinely happy to see her, having not seen her since the night they supposedly slept together. The night everything seemed to cave in around her.

"What's up, doll? Where ya headed?" He asked, seeming entirely unphased by her presence, unlike her. She provided the address, and the gears turned in Jake's brain as the location came to him. "The prison?" He ticked an eyebrow upward. 

"Work," Simone answered shortly. She wanted to keep things as professional as possible and make as little conversation with Jake as possible for fear of saying too much. She already couldn't bare to see his hopelessly handsome face. 

Jake nodded once and turned back around, putting the car in drive. "Ah, whatcha do?" He asked, peering at her from the rearview. He secretly hoped she hadn't told him before, and it slipped his mind. 

"I'm a psychiatrist." She answered, staring down at her rosy red fingertips. 

Ah, so she's a doctor. Jake thought before he took note of her unamused tone and inability to look at him. "Shit, did you tell me that already? I'm sorry." He apologized before she could give an answer to his question. She had to have told him that already, and that's why she wasn't too keen on looking at him. Simone expelled a nervous laugh,

"No, I haven't told you." She informed. 

An uncomfortable silence blanketed them as Jake tried to put together why her usual energy was suddenly low like it was. It had to be because they fucked, right? "Don't have to be so awkward, Chi-town. We only woke up next to each other one time." He finally spoke up, trying to bring the mood up a little.

From the rearview mirror, Jake saw a hint of a grin in the corners of her mouth. He was chipping away at whatever was bugging her; he just had to keep at it. She exhaled sharply and snickered, 

"It's not that. I'm just a little peeved that you know my name but keep calling me Chi-town." She said, finally bringing her eyes up to look at his in the mirror through her thick eyelashes. 

There she is. Jake thought. He took a second to admire the look before responding. "Sorry, Simone. See? I remembered!" 

"But you can't remember that beautiful night we shared?" Simone teased, followed by an eye-roll, genuinely amused by him.

So much for professionalism. She thought to herself.

Though it was clear she didn't remember either, Jake was surprised at her ability to crack a joke about the situation. It made him wonder what had her down in the dumps, to begin with. His mind wandered back to that night in the quiet, wishing he could conjure the memory and cursed himself for being unable to. What he could remember, however, was Simone calling him that name again, and a pinch of jealousy struck him.

That's right. Marc. The boyfriend.

"So, I'm guessin' I don't have to worry about that boyfriend of yours, eh?" He asked, wanting to confirm if he needed to quit while he was ahead to avoid any more complicated entanglements with a spoken-for woman. Exquisite or not, Jake had morals. 

"Nope. Not with him anymore." Simone answered, crossing one clothed leg over the other and directing her gaze out the window. She wasn't lying but needed to remind herself who she was speaking to. Even if the voice and eyes weren't identical to Spector's, the man still walked around in his skinsuit and had ties to the Egyptian god that terrorized her once-best boys.

"Bad news bears for him, lucky me though. Maybe you could refresh my memory of that beautiful night we had." Jake said, tuning his voice to make the line seem like a joke, knowing good and well he would have no issue if the opportunity arose now that he knew she was single. 

Simone could feel his eyes burning her from the mirror, prodding her to look at him. It was a good joke, a great one, even. It even garnered a laugh and a blush from her, which would have stopped his heart if he wasn't driving. 

"Pick your battles, Bronx." She replied, turning his hometown into a nickname as he did to her, meeting him in the mirror again without a second thought. His eyes were quick to dart to hers and go from warm-natured to dark, serious, and nearly lustful as they locked on to herself and refused to let go. 

"Sabes que mi nombre, muñeca." He growled, telling her: you know my name, doll and asserting that he caught her nickname. Jake wouldn't have minded if it wasn't for her affinity to call him everything but his actual name. He wanted to hear her say it, not Bronx, Marc, or anything else. 

The way Jake looked at her and the tone of his voice made Simone quake internally, and her throat dried up, every bit of liquid in her body falling lower. She uncrossed her legs and pressed her knees together as close as possible. She wouldn't show weakness, not today. 

"Sí, Jake." She said before snapping her eyes away from the mirror and back to the window. She gave him what he wanted without the expense of falling apart, and it was all she could spare today. 

It was music to his ears, though. 

The short ride that remained was silent and consisted of limited eye contact until they got to the guard gate of the prison." Welp, here we are." Jake announced, putting the car in park out of the way of entry so Simone could get checked in on foot. She felt her nerves return as she pulled money from her wallet and handed it shakily to him.

"Keep the change." She insisted, once again giving him way more than she owed. Jake held the money in his hand momentarily and turned halfway around in his seat,

"Can I get a kiss as a tip instead?" He asked, wagging his eyebrow to playfully entice her. She let out a similar snicker to before and shook her head,

"Not happening today." 

It was the answer he expected, even if it wasn't what he wanted to hear. Regardless, he wanted to see her again.

"Alright, well, we gotta stop meetin' like this, Chi-town. Gimme your number." 

Simone looked at the time on her phone and realized she needed to go, but figured she would entertain the man one last time. She pulled her notepad out of her bag with her pen, scribbled her personal number on the corner of a blank page, and tore the piece off, tucking it into his hand. "Gotta jet." She said quickly, opening the door to the cab.

Jake skimmed the phone number just as well as he did the money she paid him, marveling at how neat it looked. "Adiós, hermosa." He called out. He got one more good smile from her before she shut the door and took off toward the guard gate. 

In the most ungentlemanly fashion, his eyes drifted straight to her shapely ass in the gray dress pants she wore. Professional, tasteful, sophisticated, but thick as oatmeal.

Hate to see her go, but I love to watch her walk away. Jake thought to himself before finally pulling away from the prison. 

  Simone went through all the usual steps when getting past prison security: identification, shoes off, bag in the box, metal detector, then clear to pass. As always, she was accompanied by officer Bradley through the prison as they trekked to the block they held Walton on. He had highly thick eyebrows that clashed with his shiny, bald head and had a large build, but his voice didn't match his hardened look at all. 

"Your man's been in solitary. You caught him on a good day, luckily." The officer told her. She heard this nearly every time she came around, so she didn't know the difference between Walton's good days and bad. She supposed his bad days were what landed him in solitary. "I've got money bet he'll be back in there before the week's end."

"He's a sociopath, Bradley. He doesn't mind solitude, so it doesn't feel like punishment."

"Gotta follow protocol still, Doc. That's why you come around, though, I reckon. You'll get him out of our hair."

"My reports are only half the job. His attorney has to be the convincing one." 

They came upon a large metal door to a room with thick glass windows lined with wire. Simone's patient was inside, cuffed, and sitting at a table bolted to the floor. "As always, give us a shout if you need anything, doc." Officer Bradley said as he opened the visiting area for her to enter.

Clutching her pad and bag close, she walked in with steady breathing and her chin up as if the inmate could smell fear. He always looked exactly the same: receding hairline with gray patches, a lazy eye, scrawny but tall, and the worst teeth she'd ever seen. Still, he greeted her politely. 

"Morning, Doctor," Walton said with his heavily posh accent. Simone gave him a smile and good morning in return before placing her notepad in front of her and turning on the voice recorder app on her phone. She uncapped the plastic pen she kept specifically for these visits due to Walton being triggered by pen clicking, and thus began their session. 

  As if they had never left, Steven woke up in bed just mere hours after Jake drove Simone to the appointment. He scanned the room, stretched his limbs, then called out to Marc to see if he would answer. 

He didn't. It had been the same since he came out the week before to bring in Simone, and though her meeting them was nice, it was laced with her true intentions the second she walked through the door: she wasn't ready to fix things. She didn't know if it could be fixed. 

Simone slept with them, separately as always, but she and Marc exchanged words before he had her. Marc shut down again after that, thinking it would improve things, but it only caused him to miss her more. 

Of course, Steven also missed her and tried to introduce the conversation after they made love, but she had nothing to say. Marc didn't take kindly to this, unsure why she wouldn't help them figure out how to make it work. 

They tried on their own for two weeks and couldn't figure out anything to get a conversation going with Jake. He was completely closed off and unaware of them, just as they were of him. Everyone was in limbo, just like their relationship with Simone. 

It was a pretty heated argument, the kind you only get when two people love each other but can't stand to be around one another due to some sort of quarrel or irreconcilable differences. Simone said Marc and Steven lied, but Marc disagreed even though Steven apologized. The disagreement quickly became a power struggle that became what would only be described as hatesex. They were frustrated and took it out intimately. 

Then, Simone was gone again just as quickly as she came back. She was tired of fighting, and so was Marc, so he also left. This left Steven to try and figure things out on his own. 

Marc was in shambles, just as he used to be when they fought as kids. Only during those times was everything temporary. They would give each other the silent treatment for a few days and then return to it like nothing happened. They're adults now, so now it seems permanent. 

It felt like she was slipping through his fingers, and he thought she was in his grasp when he texted her, but he was wrong. Infatuation was a hateful thing, sometimes, and though he was happy to have her body, mind, soul, and everything in between under him that night, it felt dirty to let her leave after. Like they could do nothing but fight and use each other. 

They refused to wash the sheets because they smelled like her still. Kept her toothbrush in the bathroom. Dreamt of her. Day dreamt of her. Fucked their own hand at the thought.

It did make them feel good that she stopped by, at least. She could get another conquest if she wanted. She still chose to come over. This meant there was a chance. Steven wasn't going to let that pass him by. 

The decision to go to her apartment was his alone. Marc wanted to stay back, had it in his mind that she would come when she was ready, and feared bugging her would only further her disdain for him. He wanted Moni to miss him.

Last I checked, she was the one who left. Why are we even here? He thought as Steven knocked on the door. In a twist, they got Joyce, who looked like she had just arrived home. 

"Oh, Simone's not here-" Joyce cut herself off, squinting and studying his face to find something that told her the name of the person she was speaking to. 

"Steven. And I just wanted to see how she was doing." He told her, smiling nervously. Joyce snapped like she came to that conclusion herself,

"Yep, Steven, the gentle one." She said. Steven found it touching that she referred to him that way. Marc, on the other hand, wondered what he would be. "Simone's on her 'field trip' day." She added air quotes, "I'll let her know you came by, though." 

  After her session, Simone realized she was correct in getting a cab again: she needed a drink but decided to head home for it this time and shower. She pulled her phone out and called the company, then remembered the last couple of taxis she'd called. 

"Can I request to not get Jake Lockley this time?" She asked the man on the other end. It wasn't that she didn't enjoy the banter, but she wasn't sure if she had the willpower to hold herself back upon seeing his face again.

"Lucky for you, Lockley's off the clock right now. Why? Need to file a complaint?"

"Oh, no, just keep running into the guy. Wanted to see if that was something I could do. Send whoever." 

They did send someone she'd never met or seen, which was refreshing. She enjoyed a decently quiet ride home, thinking of how the session went before her mind returned to the fact that Jake was off the clock. 

Does that automatically mean Marc and Steven are on the clock, so to speak? Probably not. Jake doesn't just pop out to drive his taxi and leave when he's done. He's gotta be up to more than that.

When Simone got home, she dropped her bag and let out an audible sigh to mirror how she felt: exhausted. 

"I take it, it went normal." She heard Joyce call out from the living room. Simone sauntered over to get her roommate in view,

"The man's not fit for a prison, but they won't listen to me. He has a laundry list of issues, but his clear-cut sociopathy should have been enough to send him to a facility instead of supermax. Maybe even The Raft... his lawyer failed him." 

"Are you excusing his behavior?" Joyce asked, playing devil's advocate. Simone snickered, thinking that would be an impossible task. The man was dreadful. 

"Absolutely not. It's not like Walton snapped one day and decided to kidnap those girls. He had it in him the whole time, but his brain needs to be looked at by a team, not just me. He has someone new on his prison hit list whenever I see him. Doesn't write it down. It's all memorized." She explained, sounding amazed. The man was polite, mild-mannered, and probably wouldn't draw much attention to himself in public on the outside.

"Are you on that list?" Joyce asked with a laugh. Simone spotted the bottle of tequila in the china cabinet on the far side of the room,

"You know I am. Every time I visit, he says I need to see him more." She shuddered, grabbing a crystal glass from the cupboard before walking to the cabinet. The thought crossed her mind as she realized she would have little time for her usual patients if she spent more time seeing the inmate. That would spell bad news. That would put more high-risks like Laura in jeopardy. "I need a drink."

She didn't like tequila much at room temperature, but she felt there wasn't any time to chill it. Joyce scooted to the edge of her chair and leaned forward, studying Simone as she poured the clear liquid into the glass. "You've been drinking a lot more lately. You alright?"

"I'm fine. Just keep thinking about a lot of things. Laura, mostly." 

"Go see her." 

"I can't. I can't shake the feeling her family doesn't want me there." She admitted, taking a good swig of the liquor and impressing Joyce by expertly keeping a straight face. There was a brief silence between them that was only interrupted by a sipping and gulping sound as Simone finished off the two fingers of alcohol before pouring another finger. Finally, Joyce spoke up,

"Steven came by after you." 

Simone put the cap back on the bottle slowly after hearing this, realizing it was the answer to her question to herself from earlier. 

"You sure it was Steven?" She asked. 

"The English one." She confirmed. Simone nodded quietly and took her glass to the loveseat next to Joyce's chair. "It was awfully sweet, actually. He just wanted to see how you were doing." 

"Yeah." Simone sat, placing the glass against her temple and silently staring into space. 

What a fuckin' sweetheart.

"You've got that look again. The 'I should call him' look." Joyce called her out. Simone removed the glass from her head, wishing the liquid was cold again so it would actually feel good on her face. 

"Shit, look who's playing psych now?" She said with a laugh. "What a fuckin' nightmare."

  As for the man himself, Steven sat in his flat, cross-legged on the floor, with a handheld mirror propped in front of him by a bunch of books he'd already read. He stared into it with intention, trying to summon this Jake fellow like he was Bloody Mary. 

Marc was the only one around, and he knew it. There would be no luck this time, not without Moni. He felt it in his bones.

"He's not gonna come out. We've tried this." Marc said, speaking to Steven through his reflection. Steven's neck went lax, and his head fell forward with a groan,

"Don't be a pessimist. It worked for us!"

"Because you started digging, I could snake my way into your consciousness. We can't do that with Jake if he believes he's the only one and isn't trying to fight for the body."

"So we would need Simone."

"Exactly."

They sat quietly for a moment before there was a slight knocking at the door. It was nearly too gentle for them to hear, and if they were still talking, they probably wouldn't have. 

Steven stood up and walked to the door, thinking having a visitor at this time of day was strange. He opened the door and, like he summoned her instead of Jake or Bloody Mary, Simone stood waiting. His heart nearly leaped from his chest.

"Hey, Stevie." She greeted him with a nervous grin. She was twiddling her thumbs, clearly regretting coming by now that she was actually here. Regardless, she was happy to see him, and the feeling was mutual. He stepped aside to let her come in, and she proceeded, looking around aimlessly at the clutter, trying to find something to focus on. "Joyce said you came by..." She started but trailed off when she turned to face him. 

Steven perked up, thinking his efforts wouldn't amount to her coming over. 

Maybe change is in the air. He thought to himself.

Marc, on the other hand, remained unconvinced. After their last interaction, he doubted they would reconcile so soon, though he wished they would. 

"I just wanted to check on you. A lot's been happening, and I'll do my best to help." Steven responded. Simone found him sweet, and Marc found him to be a suckup. 

She wasn't drunk, out of her mind, or anything that would impair her judgment. She just needed to feel his lips after the day she had. After all, he said he would do his best to help. She approached him steadily, not rushing or in desperation, but she got to him and interlocked her hands over his neck as she gently brought her lips to his. 

Simone's mind raced, still enjoying kissing and being around him, remembering why she refused to go to anyone else no matter how mad she was, regardless of whether she didn't plan on getting back on track with their relationship. They were adults, and her intentions, though devious, were clear. 

"Delightful. Undress and get on the bed, sweetheart." She said with a tender voice as she pulled from the kiss. Steven does precisely what he's told to do. First, the shirt, pants, and boxers, and then on the bed. He was sitting up with his legs straight out in front of him, waiting as she removed her own clothes. He watched, interested in her every move until he started to stroke himself. 

"Don't touch, Stevie." She demanded. Steven quickly moved his hand back to his side, realizing the error. 

"Sorry." He said with a slight blush. She placed her hand on his chest and guided him to lie back. 

"Just don't let it happen again, or I'll have to tie you up. Understood?" She told him, still holding her tender tone. Steven nodded,

"Yes, darling." He answered attentively. Simone found that Steven responds best to gentle authority. She takes extra care to do everything she does and says as delicately as possible to match his soft nature. 

As she watched his kind eyes, her clit ached like it was being teased, and yet she hadn't been touched yet. It was no wonder she took to the handsome man what felt like forever ago, just as well as he took to her. 

She straddled overtop of his painfully hard cock, allowing him only to feel the wetness between her folds as they blanketed him. This part always drove him nuts, her taking her time, but he knew he needed to resist her teasing.

Simone began slowly grinding against him, only moving slightly, but the friction, paired with how soaked she was, did enough for her. Steven, though enjoying himself, couldn't help but want to pick up the pace. He was impatient, needy even. He wanted to be inside her but knew that Simone would give him what he wanted when she was ready and if he was good.

Steven knew how to be good for her, yet his impatience got the best of him, and he gripped her hips and began pressing his pelvis into her harder, trying to get more of her to wrap around him. 

For Simone, though this felt fantastic, it simply wouldn't do. "Tsk, tsk, Stevie baby. You know better." She said, still gentle with her tone but harshly pushing on his chest to keep him steady. Steven immediately felt guilty for getting greedy and knew what came next. He lost his self-control, and he had to be restrained. 

She delicately took his wrists and lifted them above his head. She wasn't using force, but he knew he needed to be punished, so he allowed it to happen. She found the leather binds they kept attached to the headboard and put them around his wrists, making it nearly impossible for him to touch her now. 

"I guess I deserve this, yeah?" He asked, knowing the answer but wanting to hear her talk to him more. He loved her voice. Simone smiled down at him, making his heart flutter with her beauty. 

"Yes, you do. I was going to let your slip up before slide so you could touch me, too. I guess not now, hmm?" She said, finishing the sentence with a hum of pleasure as she continued rolling her hips. "I was going to let you put your hands all over me. You would have gotten to feel my tits," She continued, speaking more breathy now. Steven's eyes drifted closed, imagining it as she told and massaged her clit against him. "I would have let you hold my thighs, run your hands over my ass..." She trailed off as she watched him lose focus under her. 

Simone's wetness coated the underside of his cock, and the feelings and thoughts running through his head put him a few steps ahead of her. She knew he was having difficulty holding back even though he was trying his best to be her object of pleasure. She tested him a bit more. 

"You like it when I rub my pussy on you like this?" She asked him. Steven groaned at her words, thinking about how pretty she made those dirty words sound. 

"Yes, love." He answered, gritting his teeth. Simone picked up the pace a bit as she felt the fire build inside her, inching closer to orgasm as she watched Steven's face. He was apparently hanging on by a thread from the twitching of his thighs under her. He was ready to cum, and that simply wouldn't do. 

Simone lifted herself off him and sat at his side, examining the dribbles of precum leaking onto his belly. "You're too close, sweetheart. We can't have that." 

"I'm sorry, I can't help it." He apologized, subconsciously pulling at the restraints, aching to have something on him again. She loved when he got like this. 

"It's okay. I know you can't. We'll just have to work on that, won't we?" She asked, implying what her next event was. Steven hated edging, but he hated coming too soon even more. He wanted Simone to use him as long as she needed to. Typically, when he can last until she comes one time, he gets rewarded with his own. 

Simone walked on her knees to the top of his body, gingerly running her fingers through his tousled hair. Steven stared lovingly at her, wishing he had her to do this all the time, hoping she would come home. To be closer to her again was something Steven pined for. He knew Marc also did, but god damn, was that man dead-set on making sure she crawled back first. 

"Ready?" She whispered politely. Steven nodded frantically, excited for what would come next. Simone gave him a long kiss on his forehead before she turned around and placed her left knee on his other side, backing herself against his stubble. She leaned forward in doing so and wrapped her hand around his cock, feeling it twitch in response to being touched again. 

Steven started rolling his tongue over her sensitive nub with delight, happy to make her feel good as she stroked him slowly with her hand. She sped up as he sped up, hoping that the other would get them across the finish line. 

Each time Simone sensed that Steven was getting too close, she would stop and drop his cock, causing him to hum with frustration as he sucked and nibbled her. She was about to cum, but she couldn't let him have relief first. 

"Keep going, sweetheart. You're doing so good." She moaned as his tongue circled faster. She had left his hard-on alone, focusing on her orgasm as he coaxed it out of her. "Yes, Stevie, yes!" She exclaimed as she was on the cusp of completion.

Steven was confident now that he was doing a good job, lips and chin covered in her sweet juices as she clenched her thighs tighter over his ears and climaxed with a fury of bad words that only she could make angelic. The sweet sounds made him smile under her proudly. 

Simone got off his face, trying to hide her wobbling to keep the guise of strength she had. Sitting back at his side, she could see the gorgeous, bound Englishman's smile, slick with her wetness, and felt she owed him a compliment. 

"Fantastic job, sweetheart. Are you ready to feel the mess you just made of me?" She asked. Steven nodded with delight, excited to see what she had in store. Simone reached for his binds and undid them before guiding him to sit up. She pressed her breasts against his chest and sat slowly down his length with a hiss, adjusting to him on entry. 

A heavy exhale escaped Steven, finally feeling her warmth around him. Simone wrapped her arms over his shoulders and kissed him as she slowly rocked her hips. Kissing Steven was always gentle; he wanted to ensure he did it right each time. Kissing was like a talent of his, consistently in sync as his tongue explored Simone's. 

Steven's hands caressed the soft skin of her back, moving with each move she made. Up, down, swivel, rolling her pelvis to feel him push against every spot that made her unbutton little by little. She pulled away from the kiss when she felt his heart beat faster as he drew himself to climax. 

"Not yet, sweetheart." She demanded, still moving her hips up and down, in and out. She was close, but not nearly as close as he was. 

"I don't think I can hold it much longer, love," Steven admitted. He did everything he could to keep the pleasure down as she denied him release. Simone grabbed the sides of his face and pressed her forehead to his, prompting him to look into her eyes,

"Wait for me. I'm almost there." She choked out, moving faster now. His tip rutted against her g-spot repeatedly when she pushed herself into this position. She started to feel the build spill over, coming unglued again. 

"Cum now, Stevie. Now!" She cried out, feeling the climax rush out of her.

Steven felt her grip pulsate around his cock. That, along with her command, caused him to pull her closer to him as he erupted into her. Simone's movements grew shakey as her knees grew weak and weary of riding, so Steven did his best to pick up where she couldn't to finish riding out their orgasms, thrusting himself into her a couple of times before they came to completion. 

Steven fell backward onto the bed, taking Simone with him and pulling her in tighter. "You're proper gorgeous, darling." He complimented, burying his face in her neck. She smiled and kissed his forehead, 

"Thank you, sweetheart. You're handsome as the devil and far more polite." She said.

Steven trailed tiny kisses along her neck, enjoying the snuggle while he got the chance to. It made him wish he could stay this way a bit longer, drift off in her arms, and wake up with her again. It had been so long since they did that. Simone wanted the same thing.

There was only one way to really get to the bottom of her feelings, and she knew it. 

"I might be able to help with the Jake issue." She said, breaking the peaceful silence. As if Marc had been in control the whole time, he was the one who responded. 

"Why the sudden change?"

"Because it's bonkers, and I'm worried. No matter how I feel about you, I want you to be okay." She said, pulling out of the embrace now that Steven wasn't in front. She didn't want to fight anymore. "But I'm going to need your full cooperation, Marc. No matter how crazy my methods may seem." She told him sternly. Marc nodded,

"Of course. Anything."

[unsettlingconclusions]

Burnt Bridges

Summary: Once a bridge has been burnt down, can it be rebuilt? Set after party / exposure of Lewis (Ch 15) Pairing: Ayna Seth x F!MC (Kennedy) Rating: M (NSFW) Word Count: 6k+ Notes: That turned out to be a lot longer than I expected. Also, I'm not very into writing smut, so I apologize if that's unfulfilling. This is my (very messy) take on how the reconciliation should've played. I wrote this mainly to sort out the very conflicting feelings this plot brought me. Enjoy. Dance away your troubles, that's how the saying goes, right? As far as Kennedy is concerned, that's how her evening was going, and she was enjoying every minute of it. She was almost happy, what with such a huge weight lifted off her shoulders. It felt good to be carefree again, if only for tonight.

The man behind the paranoia that her life had turned to was thankfully incapable of harming her any longer. At least that's what she was intent on believing for the moment. Maybe things would turn out not to be so simple but, for now, she was satisfied.

This rollercoaster of a day had started out like just any other day until she came knocking on her door, claiming to have an idea of how to help the Rutherlandian catch the person who’s been setting her up.

Ayna Seth.

Kennedy never felt so confused by anyone else in her life.

She had met Ayna at Vancross and they had hit it off from the beginning. She felt at ease in Ayna's presence, the elder woman had a power to make her feel like she could just be. It calmed and soothed Kennedy at the same rate it thrilled and excited her. Even when the press was breathing down her neck and her mother wouldn't get off her case, Ayna never wavered, and Kennedy felt blissful to have found someone she could count on. That is, until she found out that Ayna was the one helping set her up. That day Kennedy found out what it meant to feel gut punched. Heartbroken. Devastated.

Ayna sold her out, pure and simple. But she was also the woman who kind of sold herself out to help Kennedy get her life back. Ayna risked her reputation, her job, her relationship with her father and her own safety by posing as bait to draw Lewis Wright out. Kennedy couldn't ignore that, could she? Ugh- that was messy.

I need a little break, she decides, unable to get Ayna out of her head now that the woman has intruded herself. Finding a secluded spot at the bar where she could lay low for a while, she motions to let Dionne know she's going for a drink. And that’s exactly when her eyes catches Ayna's. Would the woman think she was being invited there? Kennedy couldn't tell and she simultaneously wished for and against it.

She approaches the bar and orders another one of those flaming drinks Dionne got her earlier. The bartender sets to fill her order and by the time Kennedy is putting out the fire with her hands, she senses a frame approaching her from the side.

"What an intense day," it was Ayna's voice. Kennedy took in the older woman's stance. She appeared relaxed and loose. Maybe the dance had eased her troubles away as well? Whatever it was, it seemed to do her good.

"Yeah, I seriously hope that's not what my life is gonna look like from now on," Kennedy answers truthfully.

"It's just the election cycle. I'm sure everything will settle down once your mom wins again."

"You think?"

"Well, I hope so. At least you won't be so much in the spotlight anymore."

"I'll drink to that!"

Kennedy offers Ayna a smile and turns back to the counter. She takes a sip of her drink and absentmindedly strokes her wrist when she settles it down. Out of the corner of her eye, she catches Ayna glancing at her.

"Hey, can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

Ayna pauses, opens her mouth and then closes it again, apparently changing her mind. "Uhmm, nevermind." She glances away, rubbing the back of her neck and Kennedy can feel a shift in the energy surrounding them. The relaxation seemed gone, replaced by awkwardness, was that it? It is then that she realizes she had been stroking her wrist. She abruptly stops, clenching her fists on top of the counter. Ayna's face fell. Shit! So much for just being, huh?

"I should go. You enjoy the rest of the night with your friends." Ayna offers dejectedly, shifting her weight as if preparing to depart. "I'm sure at this point Dionne won't mind me gone.”

Kennedy was taken aback by how faster her heart was suddenly beating. She wanted to say it had to do with how much she’s had to drink and not with the unexpected panic she felt at the prospect of Ayna leaving, but she knew that would be at least half a lie. She wanted to chastise herself, realizing now that the truth was she desperately missed this feeling of them being comfortable in each other’s presence. She wasn't ready to let that go.

“Can’t you stay a while longer?”

“I shouldn’t. I have to be at Vancross early tomorrow morning. Work and all.” Ayna says with a sheepish smile that resembled more a grimace and wraps her arms around herself.

That was a telltale sign that the TA was putting up a front if Kennedy ever saw one. She wracked her brain looking for something to say that could take the edge off Ayna, but in reality, how would that be even possible? They were in the middle of a speakeasy surrounded by loud and obnoxious people (which may or may not include her own friends), and sitting between them was this huge unaddressed elephant. She couldn’t possibly expect to dissolve all the tension between them when they had to shout every sentence just to be heard. But she just wanted to talk to Ayna. Really talk it all out. She knew this sudden desire to bare her soul was probably the liquid courage speaking for her, but she would be damned if she didn’t make the most of it.

"Do you live far from here?"

"A little. Why?"

Kennedy drowns the rest of her drink in a single motion, throwing more fuel at the bravery that seemed to be guiding her actions as of now, preparing herself to do what she really wanted to do. If there was anything this whole ordeal taught her was that she should live her life fully. She was going to be judged and quite literally haunted for every little action she made it seems, so she was going to make sure from now on that she’d live on her own terms. No regrets.

"Can I come with you?" She blurts out. "I'd rather be somewhere quieter.” And anywhere else if it meant being with you, she added in her head, not being brave enough to say that out loud, though. Not yet, anyway. “Today’s been exciting enough.”

She feels Ayna’s eyes trained on her face.

"I'm not sure your bodyguard would agree to that."

"I can handle Tatum."

“You’re not drunk, are you?”

“No.” Maybe just a little?

“Are you sure about this?”

“Yes.”

A few seconds ticked by before Ayna answers, their gazes never breaking. Kennedy could only imagine Ayna might be pondering a few thoughts of her own.

“Ok.”

The conversation with Tatum wasn’t exactly a breeze. He first chastised Kennedy for convincing him to go drinking and letting his guard down only to later on pull this stunt. Then he proceeded to (in a very concerned and caring tone, Kennedy had to admit) tell her he didn’t think it was a good idea. For reasons of safety and otherwise.

“I don’t mean to be insensitive here but you thought she was sincere before and you know how it turned out”, he said.

“I understand where you’re coming from, Tatum, but I’m doing this with or without your help.”

So he helped, of course, even though he was off duty (and displeased). Half an hour later Kennedy found herself enjoying the most awkward car ride in the history of awkward car rides. Agent Demarco was driving, Tatum by his side riding shotgun, and a very, very uncomfortable Ayna sat opposite her in the back seat, nearly glued to the door. The TA spent the entire drive looking out the window, only breaking out of her shell as far as it was necessary to direct Demarco through the city streets. Well, this is going great.

Kennedy let out a breath of relief when they arrived at the apartment complex. It was short lived, though, as Agent Demarco's voice cut the silence. He didn't exactly look very thrilled by the whole situation either.

"Which apartment is yours?"

"208-A."

"Could you give me your key? I'll check it out and be back in a few minutes."

"Hmm, sure." Ayna fished for her apartment keys, giving them to Agent Demarco. Tatum didn't follow, choosing instead to take a few steps back, but not too many, his posture stiff, back on the job.

Kennedy hated all of this. It seemed they were intent on making Ayna feel like a criminal and remind Kennedy herself the reality of their situation. She knew it was well-intentioned, but she didn't care for it one bit.

Fifteen long minutes later, Agent Demarco returns exclaiming "Coast is clear". Tatum chips right in, "Alright, Kennedy, you can go in, but Agent Demarco and I will stay by the door. If you need anything at all, you just have to call for us, ok? Leave the door unlocked." Yes, definitely intent.

As soon as both women cross the threshold and close the door behind them, Ayna's shoulders slump slightly.

"I'm sorry about that."

"Don't be. They are just doing their jobs."

"Still..."

“Well, would you like something to drink?” Ayna says, deviating the subject for now. She leaves her shoes by the front door and starts for the kitchen.

“Do you have coffee?”

The adrenaline provided by the loud music and boisterous environment of the club seemed to wear off during the ride and Kennedy felt the need to sober up however possible. It seemed this wasn't going to be a very pleasant conversation afterall. The whole fiasco with Demarco and Tatum served to remind her of that.

“Sure. You’d be surprised to know sometimes coffee is all I have. I’ll start a pot.”

Ayna busied herself in the kitchen and Kennedy took the opportunity to explore a little bit. She took off her own shoes and went for the living room, admiring the various pictures scattered around. Some were of Ayna and her friends, Kennedy assumed. On the wall, Kennedy spotted a collage picture frame adorned with pictures of Ayna and her dad in various scenarios: when she was a baby, graduating middle school, at what seemed like a soccer game? She should file that information for later.

“You and your dad look sweet together.”

"Thanks. It's easy when he's a very sweet man himself." Ayna emerges from the kitchen carrying two steaming coffee cups, offering one cup to Kennedy. "Black coffee ok?"

"It's fine."

They both take a seat and quietly enjoy their coffee for a moment. Kennedy chooses the armchair, leaving the entire couch for Ayna. She didn't want the TA to feel cornered like it happened in the car.

"How is he doing?" It was Kennedy who broke the silence.

Ayna sighs. "He's fine. As well as can be expected. I'm thankful the treatment has been working so far." She lowers her eyeglasses a little and rubs her eyes, looking dejected. Kennedy would slap herself in the face if she could for bringing this up. But then again, that is the main reason they are deep in this conundrum, isn't it? There's no good in avoiding it.

For the brief moment she catches Ayna’s glasses off her eyes, Kennedy notices the deep circles resting beneath them. She had noticed before that Ayna looked a little worse for the wear, but this is when she got to see just how much.

“You look tired.”

“Sleep has been evading me lately.” Ayna quickly slides her eyeglasses up again. "I suppose these help hide it a little, don’t they?"

"You don't have to hide with me, Ayna." What the hell, Kennedy?

"That's... sweet of you to say."

That brief slip of misplaced affection threw them right back to silence. How to go talking about something like this? Kennedy thought there really wasn't an instruction manual on how to go back to talking to your girlfriend after she betrays you. Were they ever really girlfriends? This train of thought is not helping me much either.

"Do you have a plan for what to do now? For his treatment, I mean." Kennedy decided to steer the conversation back to Arjun. She was genuinely curious and interested.

"I have some savings. I'm going to see if I can at least pay for his surgery and figure out the rest as it comes."

"Would you accept my help?"

"Kennedy, I couldn't possibly. I already took so much from you."

"What if I loan it to you?"

"And how would I pay it back? I'm not sure I'm even going to manage to keep my job." Ayna pauses, breathing deeply. "And my dad wouldn't accept it either. I'm sure now it's only a matter of time before he finds out how I... how I managed to pay for his treatment."

"Ayna, don't worry about this. I won't let it come out that you were involved with this."

"Kennedy, that's sweet. Much more than I deserve from you, but I don't think you can really do this."

"I'll do everything I can, then. You shouldn’t lose the love of your father because a dead-ass jerk took advantage of you in a moment of vulnerability.”

“Is that how you feel? About what I did?”

“About why you did what you did. I don’t think you’re a bad person, Ayna.”

“My dad thinks so highly of me. It’s going to crush him when he finds out.”

“Then let’s hope it doesn’t come to it. Your father seems like a nice man, he should have peace to recover. And he should have you.”

“You wanna know what's the worst part of it? I don't think I was completely honest with you at the hospital,” Ayna confesses, and she begins to get agitated, rubbing the palms of her hands in her thighs, the coffee long forgotten at the coffee table. “The truth is it scared me to learn how far I was willing to compromise my values. My dad always tried to teach me to do the right thing, and I always thought of myself as righteous, I always strived to live up to his standards. But when I was approached, I barely hesitated in taking the deal.”

Kennedy provides no reply to that, mainly for feeling Ayna wasn’t done letting it all out. The silence stretches for a few seconds before Ayna hangs her head, taking in a long breath. “I know this doesn't help my case, but I think you deserve my complete honesty. And I want you to know that when you were attacked, they crossed a line that I just couldn’t go along with, even if I haven’t...” She trails off averting Kennedy’s gaze, her own looking troubled, as if she was caught off guard by what she was saying. “I couldn’t do it.”

What is she saying?

"Ayna-" Kennedy starts speaking, but is quickly interrupted by Ayna, now sitting at the edge of the sofa, her body turned in Kennedy's direction. “I’m so sorry that happened to you. I’m so, so sorry you were ever put in a position to feel terrified.”

You should be! was Kennedy's first thought. This was a hard one to swallow and Kennedy felt her blood boil as she was, for a second, back in the moment she realized Ayna was the only one who knew she was at the lake. The moment she realized she was betrayed. “I’m not gonna lie, it was pretty scary. And to find out that you, of all people, were somehow responsible... it hurt, Ayna. It hurt so damn much.”

In a fluid, fast motion, Ayna crosses the living room, now kneeling by the armchair, resting her hands near Kennedy's but not really touching. “I’m so sorry, Kennedy. That’s all I can say. After getting to know you, all I ever wanted was to make you feel safe. All I ever wanted was to be there for you and support you in any way I could.”

“But that’s why it hurt so much, you see?" Kennedy exclaims a little on the exasperation side. "Because I felt all of that, Ayna. That's how I saw you, my safe space, someone I could really trust, that I could always to turn to. When I realized it, God I felt so stupid.”

It pained Kennedy to say these words as it pained Ayna to hear them. The TA all but deflates, shoulders slumped, head hanging low. After a few seconds, Kennedy is sure she heard a quiet sniffle and all her exasperation disappeared. Ayna was right there, kneeling by her side, and Kennedy's heart screamed at her to reach out, but her head wouldn’t let her do it. They weren't there yet.

“Look, Ayna, I’m not saying these things just to be mean to you. I guess I... I don’t know, I guess I just wanted to get it out of my chest", she says instead.

“I understand," Ayna replies releasing a sigh. She gets up and turns her back to Kennedy for a few seconds, discreetly wiping her eyes before turning back around. "I should be counting my lucky stars that you’re even here talking to me. I appreciate that. You really didn’t have to be here but you are, so thank you.”

But she really had to, Kennedy thought, or the doubts and resentment that were threatening to build up inside of her would eat her alive.

She could see that the turn the conversation took was really weighing down on the older woman. Ayna looked even more tired and dejected than when they first arrived in the apartment. The sight of it was upsetting Kennedy deeply. She was discovering she really couldn’t stand the idea of Ayna Seth being in pain, no matter where their relationship was standing.

“I know it can’t have been easy for you. To be caught between a rock and a hard place like that,” she offers, trying to make Ayna feel at least a little better.

“Kennedy, I don’t want to sound bad but... I have to ask. Why are you being nice to me?”

“Well, I learned that from you. To put myself in other people’s shoes. I... I didn’t like the way I saw everyone treating you earlier.”

Kennedy bit her lip, pondering if she should say what else she didn’t like, which was the way Zaira looked oddly comfortable pulling Ayna towards the dance floor. She decided against it; she felt confused as it was without adding yet another emotion into this pile of crap. Jealousy would have to wait. “I don’t think you’re a horrible comic villain who deserves to be lynched at every opportunity and I wish everyone would just stop treating you like that.”

To this Ayna offers a genuine smile. Kennedy can also see how some sparkle flashed briefly through Ayna’s eyes. “Thank you. This means a lot coming from you.”

Kennedy smiles timidly in return. She pauses for a moment, trying to process everything they have said so far. She really believed Ayna was caught in a bad place having to choose between two people she cared about. Kennedy knew Ayna loved her father fiercely but... what about me?

She takes in her surroundings for a minute: here she was, seated by an armchair in the living room of Ayna’s apartment, and the TA was standing right across from her. There was no better time or place to get the answers that she needed, and it was getting late, and to be dancing around the subject was exhausting her. She gets up from her position, approaching slowly but decidedly the other woman.

“Tell me Ayna. If we haven’t grown close, if you didn’t know I wasn’t just a rich spoiled privileged brat, would you have continued to feed Wright information about me?”

"After the attack on you, no, I don’t think I would’ve."

“Would you have reached out to me to let me know someone was out to get me? Would you still have helped me flush him out?”

“I like to think that I would’ve, yes.”

"What were you going to say when you said you haven't? Haven't what?"

That was it, what she really, really wanted to know. She wanted, scratch that, she needed to hear Ayna say it. And the TA kept fidgeting, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, looking everywhere but at the younger woman. So Kennedy presses on, searching for Ayna’s eyes, repeating the question once she found them.

"Haven't what, Ayna?"

"Fallen in love with you.”

That was Ayna’s answer, and said with an unwavering certainty so unlike her recent attitude, that Kennedy felt like the wind had been knocked out of her. She was certain she never felt so much in such a short span of time before. After that, there was no turning back anymore. She would take the plunge, and so help her God. Live life fully.

"Look, you risked everything to help me get my life back. The slate is wiped clean as far as I'm concerned,” she states, stepping closer to Ayna.

"Do you really mean that?” It was Ayna’s turn to tentatively take a step closer to Kennedy now, hope written all over her face.

"Yes. I don't want to hold a grudge and be angry with you. Not when you make me feel... so much more.” Kennedy goes forward again, reaching an arms-length distance from the other woman. “You mean the world to me, Ayna. I don’t want to pretend anymore that you don’t.”

Ayna reaches out, taking hold of Kennedy's hands in her own. Her movements are slow, almost calculated, and Kennedy wonders if that’s out of fear that any sudden movement might break the spell of the past few minutes. She intertwines their fingers together while glancing intently at Kennedy, her eyes searching for something.

“Do you think you can forgive me entirely? Wholeheartedly? If this all goes suddenly away in the morning, I’m not sure I can handle it.”

The proximity of Ayna is enough to make Kennedy feel her entire body go warm. Although she had a thousand objections at the back of her mind screaming back at her, right now all she wanted was to keep feeling whatever it was that Ayna’s touch made her feel. But she couldn't lie. She couldn't make any promises when she herself wasn't sure of anything but her desire to just try and move on. So she searched deep within herself the most honest answer she could find.

“All I can say is that I’m going to try my best. Is that good enough for you?”

Ayna takes a long breath and shuts her eyes. She lets go of Kennedy's hands and slides hers gently up the younger woman's arms until she reaches Kennedy's face. She cups Kennedy's cheeks and lets her thumb caress them. Kennedy responds by sliding her arms around Ayna's waist, bringing their bodies closer together, feeling her world narrowing down to Ayna and Ayna alone. And when Ayna opens her eyes, Kennedy feels like she‘s staring right into her soul.

“Yes."

That simple word was all it took for Kennedy's head to go spinning. She feels Ayna leaning in further, slowly, giving Kennedy one last opportunity to back away. Instead, Kennedy closes the distance between them. There was nothing else she could do at this point.

Their lips meet in a slow, tender kiss. The feeling of Ayna's soft lips, the smell of her perfume, the warmth of Ayna’s body pressing into hers... it was all so much, Kennedy felt overwhelmed. At the same time, it wasn’t nearly enough. She parts her lips to deepen the kiss, inviting Ayna in, and Ayna responds by sliding her tongue through Kennedy's bottom lip before slipping inside. Tongues dancing together, Ayna loses one of her hands in Kennedy's hair and Kennedy's hold on Ayna's waist tightens a they get lost on one another, savoring the feeling of being in each other's arms again.

“I missed you, Kennedy. So much.”

“I missed you too.”

The sweetness and tenderness is quickly replaced by passion. Days of lingering doubts and longing translate into hands roaming everywhere, both eager to show just how much they missed each other. Ayna's hands grab Kennedy's small back and pulls their hips together, fingers digging into skin before sliding down and scratching her thighs, while Kennedy buries herself in Ayna's neck, kissing and sucking her jawline, her earlobe, the nape of her neck, every inch of skin she could find. She lets out a sigh as she feels that the exposed skin is wanting, covered by many layers of clothing too much, and grabs a hold of Ayna's blouse, tugging it from Ayna's skirt. She motions to take the shirt off of Ayna only to have her movements halted.

“No, not so fast." Ayna holds Kennedy's hands and steps away from her embrace for a second. "I want tonight to last as long as possible.”

Kennedy understands the implied message. This was their first time together and who knew what tomorrow may bring? She looks at Ayna, whose eyes are burning with desire and filled with so much emotion that a shiver runs up Kennedy's spine. Tonight was theirs.

"Can we move this to the bedroom?" Kennedy asks panting, feeling her insides squeeze with the prospect of being so intimate with Ayna, both literally and metaphorically. The smile that crept upon Ayna's face at the request could light up the whole sky. "You don't have to ask me twice."

With as much enthusiasm as fondness, Ayna takes one of Kennedy's hands in her own, lacing their fingers together, and gently directs them towards the bedroom.

Once inside, Ayna wraps her arms around Kennedy's torso from behind, pressing her chest against Kennedy's back, holding her tightly in place. She buries her head in the nape of Kennedy's neck, breathing Kennedy's scent in. "Let me stay here for a minute, please," she mumbles quietly, and Kennedy lets her, closing her eyes and relishing in this quietude that Ayna's embrace always brought her. They sway from side to side, finding a rhythm together, until Ayna starts peppering Kennedy's neck with small kisses. Her hands slides languidly under the lapels of Kennedy's cardigan, pulling it out and tossing it to the side. She then directs her attention to Kennedy's shirt, sliding underneath it and shoving it upwards, her hands caressing the skin she found on the way. The heat emanating from Ayna's hands left a hot trail on Kennedy's skin, and Kennedy felt like she was melting right there.

She turns around in Ayna's embrace and captures Ayna's lips once again. With much more paced but no less yearning movements, Kennedy slides her hands down Ayna's chest, reaching for the hem of her shirt. This time she's met with no objection and she happily takes it off as well, settling her hands on Ayna's now bare shoulders. “There’s something I always wanted to do."

"What is it?"

Instead of answering with words, Kennedy entangles her fingers through Ayna’s hair and picks lightly on the hair pins keeping the bun in place. “Can I?”, she inquires softly.

Ayna nods her consent. She closes her eyes and leans into one of Kennedy’s hands as the young woman tread her fingers through her hair, letting it loose and guiding it over her shoulders. Once she’s finished, Kennedy brings both her hands back to cup Ayna’s face, lingering there. “You are so beautiful”, she says in a voice no louder than a whisper, prompting Ayna to open her eyes. Kennedy tried to cool down a little the look of adoration she knew she probably had imprinted on her own face, but the quick reddening of Ayna’s neck and ears told her she most likely failed.

She continues her exploration now going for Ayna’s glasses. When the older woman offers no resistance, she pulls it off. And that was a sight that Kennedy was sure would be engraved on her mind for a long time to come. Ayna looked completely different now, stripped bare from all formalities she had held on to keep her distance. She looked so vulnerable and very unlike the imposing figure she could occasionally be as a TA.

“You know, I can’t see very well without my glasses on.” Ayna says quietly.

“You look like a whole other person. It’s like I’m seeing you now for the first time.”

Ayna pauses for a moment before gently taking the glasses from Kennedy and placing them by the nightstand, “I guess I’ll have to keep you pretty close to me then.”

When she leans back towards Kennedy, her whole attitude‘s changed. She seemed filled by a renewed determination as she kissed Kennedy deeply but unhurriedly. Her arms engulfed the smaller woman tightly, one hand at the back of Kennedy’s head, keeping her in place, the other grasping firmly at her back.

Slowly, Ayna walks forward urging Kennedy with her, until the back of Kennedy's knees collide with the bed, prompting the younger woman to gasp.

Ayna looks pointedly at Kennedy, a hidden question dancing in her eyes. It endears Kennedy that Ayna's being so respectful at the same rate it saddens her that it might be out of fear.

"I want this, Ayna. I want you."

With the encouragement, Ayna sits Kennedy on the bed, kneeling in front of her. "Maybe all of this could go, then?" She picks on the waistband of Kennedy's pants. "I believe we are a little overdressed."

"Yeah, we should fix that," is Kennedy's reply, and she goes unfastening the button of her pants only to be halted.

“Let me. I've been wanting to do this for a while."

So Ayna unfastens and rids Kennedy's lower body from her jeans, and then she stands up and removers her own skirt before joining Kennedy on the bed. Their lips meet instantly, legs entangling together, and Kennedy moves on top of Ayna, settling her weight down on the TA's body. They both moan in unison when their hips touch, fitting perfectly.

"There's still a few layers of clothing remaining. Are you slacking off?" Kennedy teases.

Ayna's chuckle fill the air, "Oh, no, I wouldn't dream of it,” she says, as she moves to unclasp Kennedy's bra. They quickly complete the task of ridding each other of their underwear, standing now completely bare in front of one another.

"Come here," Ayna pulls Kennedy back on top of her, moaning softly when they settle into each other. “You feel so good.”

Kennedy responds by merging their lips together again as she lets her hands wander all over Ayna’s body, stopping longer at her breasts. She feels Ayna’s hands focused on the curves of her ass and inner thighs. She sighs deeply.

“I can't wait any longer. I want to touch you."

"Well, go ahead."

But it's like the answer fell on deaf ears. "I need to."

Guiding Kennedy’s hand lower on her body, Ayna says "Yes, please."

Kennedy did, and it was everything and more. She was intoxicated by everything Ayna: the warmth of her lips, the floral scent of her perfume, the sweet sounds that came out of her mouth in the form of whimpers and moans, the softness of her most sensitive places. It was all so beautiful. She moves so her mouth can join her hand, and soon Ayna's labored breaths increase in rate and intensity at Kennedy's ministrations, letting Kennedy feel she's coming closer and closer to the edge.

“Ayna, look at me." Kennedy all but demanded. "I want you to look at me while I bring you over the edge."

"Oh, fuck... yes!” Ayna struggles to mumble, panting heavily as she complied and locked eyes with Kennedy. The young woman focus on her fingers strokes against the TA’s center, and she can tell it’s taking all Ayna has not to close her eyes again as she arches her back, riding out her pleasure. Kennedy felt on cloud nine.

“That was... it was...” Ayna tries to say, struggling to catch her breath.

“Tell me.” Kennedy asks as she plants a chaste kiss in Ayna’s shoulder, easing the woman down from her high.

When Ayna finally catches her breath, she answers affectionately, “No one has ever made me feel like this.”

Kennedy feels every one of her heartstrings being pulled again. This seemed like a common occurrence this night. This is going to be the death of me. But before she could dwell longer on this, Ayna was moving on top of her.

“Well, may I touch you now?”

“Yes, please.” Kennedy answers with a smirk that is quickly wiped from her face as Ayna’s lips find her neck, sucking on her pulse point, eliciting a moan from her.

Ayna is so tender Kennedy feels like she understands now why it's called "making love". Oh shit, I am in love with her too, aren't I? Well, should I? And at the worst possible moment, her mind decides to play tricks on her. This is when it chose to wander back, again, to that horrifying experience, as well as the crushing pain that followed through at the realization of Ayna's betrayal. And now she feels Ayna going lower and lower, trailing her mouth down Kennedy’s stomach, then her navel, as she kept her downward path.Oh my god, no, this is too much. I can't handle it.

“A-Ayna.”

“Hmmm.”

“Ayna, wait.”

Ayna halts immediately. “What? What is it?”

“I’m not- I’m not ready for...” Kennedy is struggling to get her words out, and she prays Ayna understands what she's trying to say.

In a flash, Ayna's face is back up, staring right at Kennedy as she brings one hand to caress Kennedy's face, the other propping her up. “Hey, it’s ok. You can tell me anything you want or don’t want, ok? We don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with."

“I’m just not ready for you to... go down there,” Kennedy admits begrudgingly, avoiding Ayna’s gaze.

“Of course. We can snuggle all night instead if that’s what you prefer.”

Oh for crying out loud! Of course, Ayna had to be the gentlest and most respectful even when faced with rejection in the very throes of passion. The war raging inside Kennedy was exhausting her completely. She knew she said she wanted it, and she meant every word. Objectively, she knew the truth about her feelings, she just didn’t think she’d have to own up to them so soon. Love, was it? Ayna was looking at her every inch understanding, not one bit judgemental or mad, and Kennedy wondered how great their relationship would've turned out if she was just the average girl, not the First Daughter of Rutherland, and if she could've always been met with that sweet and understanding Ayna, not the lying and deceitful one. She wanted so much to trust Ayna again, wholeheartedly, she wanted to feel her touch, she wanted to be loved, she just really wanted to just let go.

“Or you could... use your fingers?” she finally finds her voice, unable to not want to feel Ayna all over her.

“Yes, I can do that,” Ayna says, and to comply, she slowly brings her hands over Kennedy's center, looking for any sign of objection but finding none. “Like this?”

“Yesss, just like that.”

“Can I kiss you?”

“Y-yes.”

Ayna kisses Kennedy pouring her everything into it, and Kennedy feels it for what it was. If transcribed into words, it would probably say ”Please, forgive me. Please, let’s start again”.

Kennedy knows Ayna is following her lead, but she needs more. She knows Ayna won’t do anything she doesn’t signal that she wants. So with one hand she holds Ayna’s hand in place, and with the other she guides Ayna’s head towards one of her breasts.

And that felt so good, it was like she was being thoroughly consumed. A powerful desire to simply belong to Ayna begins to rise from deep within Kennedy’s heart, overriding any sick trick her mind was attempting to throw at her. She needed to know what that felt like.

“I need to... to feel you... inside.”

It was impossible for that request not to be met with compliance, so Ayna slid one finger through Kennedy’s opening, and then another, and with each thrust, she is taken closer and closer to that point of infinite bliss.

The part of her who still had some lingering doubts was being thoroughly massacred, and as much as Kennedy feared it, she was also glad to see it go. Even if it tried to tell her to be smarter, to draw a line, to keep away from Ayna and all the potential heartache she represented, none of that was enough to make her stop feeling everything else this woman made her feel, and loving Ayna felt so, so much better.

So in between ragged breaths and with a strained voice, she can’t stop herself from saying “I love you.”

Ayna buries her head into Kennedy’s neck, her movements gaining a boost of energy as she picks up her pace. When she feels Kennedy slipping into oblivion, she curls her fingers to draw it out as much as possible.

“Let it go, Kennedy. Let go for me.”

“Yes... oh god, yes.” Yes, let’s please just start again.

Kennedy’s whole world goes spinning as a thousand stars explode right behind her eyes and she cries out in ecstasy, letting go of everything.

She gets back from her high and is met with the sight of a very smiling Ayna lying on her stomach. “How are you feeling?” Ayna asks grinning lopsidedly.

Honestly? “So fucking liberated.”

That prompts laughter out of Ayna and Kennedy loves the sound of it. “Well, I love the enthusiasm”.

They snuggle close together, Kennedy now resting her head in Ayna’s chest, while the TA drapes her arms around the younger woman’s shoulders, “And you. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

And there it is again, the infectious grin in Ayna’s face. God, this woman is beautiful.

They spend a few minutes enjoying the quiet together, occasionally offering small kisses, lacing hands together and exchanging soft caresses, until Ayna asks, “Can you stay tonight?”

Kennedy stiffens. "I don’t think that would be a very good idea.”

“Oh, ok. I understand.”

“I’m sorry, I-“

“Hey, it’s ok, Kennedy, really. Tonight’s been a crazy ride, your mother’s still campaigning and the Peace Summit is right around the corner. I really understand.” She then adds a little sheepishly, “Can you stay for a few more minutes?”

“Yeah, but just a few more minutes."

"I'll take it," Ayna answers with a small genuine grin, diffusing the situation, and they settle against one another again, each lost in their own thoughts as to what this night represented. As messy as her feelings had been, Kennedy was thankful this happened. It felt so good to be nested comfortably in Ayna's arms, she just had to hold on to this feeling and let her heart heal.

After many more minutes, Kennedy moves, mumbling quietly, "I should go."

Ayna places a kiss on Kennedy’s forehead and disentangles herself from the younger woman. “Ok.”

Kennedy jumps out of bed searching for her scattered clothes while Ayna puts on a robe. Once they’re both redressed and composed, the TA laces her fingers with Kennedy's as she leads them towards the apartment door.

“Tonight was pretty great,” Kennedy said once they reached the door, feeling like offering Ayna reassurance. She didn't want the TA to be fretting all night long as she had a feeling this is just what might happen.

“Yeah, it was.”

“I know we still have things to work through, but... I do want this, I promise." Kennedy holds both Ayna's hands in her own and waves their joined hands for extra effect, "This won’t be gone by the morning.”

Ayna's face light up in a huge smile. "For as long as you’re willing to not close the door on us, I’m going to do everything I can to show you can trust me again." She leans in to steal one last kiss. “I’m all in, Kennedy. I love you.”

“I love you too. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow.”

With that Kennedy leaves, heart full of hope. Who said burnt bridges can't be rebuilt? This time around, maybe it'll be much stronger, and no amount of fire would be able to burn it down.