“You want to touch yourself while I hold you?”
“Yes,” I say and I want it so much I don’t care if it’s for all the wrong reasons. I don’t care if I want this kind of intimacy with Loncey because I still feel like I need to offer them something sexual, even if it’s not the full experience or what they’re used to. I don’t care if doing this will make me question my asexuality, because Lord knows it doesn’t take much for me to feel like an imposter even in this space that feels like home most of the time.
I don’t care about anything but having Loncey’s body close to mine, their breath on my skin, their kisses on whatever part ofme their mouth can reach. I’ve been craving this closeness for four long weeks, oscillating between allowing myself the fantasy and forbidding myself from indulging.
“Do you,” they pause, “do you need to go clean up? If you’re on your period, I mean.”
“I’m wearing a cup. I just changed it,” I say and I wonder if I should feel strange talking about this with Loncey, but I don’t. Still I feel the need to add, “I don’t love putting it in me, you know, but it’s worth it for how easy it is.
“I get it, Maeve,” their smile is reassuring. “Well, this should feel extra good.”
“What should?”
“An orgasm, when you’re on your period. I’ve heard they’re more intense, more enjoyable because there’s more blood flow. It can be the same thing for pregnant people too. Some also say it can help with cramps and pelvic floor pain.”
“How do you even know all this?”
“I live with two menstruating women – one of whom is a midwife – and I’ve had relationships with menstruating people. Also, I’m interested in stuff like that. How bodies work.”
“Fair enough,” I say, and it sounds a bit grumpy which was not my intention.
“Roll over, Maeve,” Loncey says, their voice slow and low, just like it was last time and I find it so instantly soothing, I’m silent as I obey. They pull me back against them, and they place a lingering kiss on my shoulder as they rest their hand on my hip. “I’m going to leave my hand right here. If you want me to put it somewhere else, I will. Just tell me.”
“There is fine,” I say. I wish I wanted them to touch me somewhere else, but I don’t. I want them close, but I don’t want their hands anywhere but exactly where they are.
“Let me get a pillow to go between us,” they shift, lifting us both slightly.
“Why?” I ask, horrified at the thought of our closeness being interrupted.
Loncey sighs. “I’m going to get turned on, Maeve. I don’t want that to make you uncomfortable.”
“You’re talking about your erection?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t mind it. I mean, I don’t mind feeling it against my back. I just… I don’t want to see it or have it anywhere else though.”
“Are you sure? I don’t mind getting a pillow.”
“But I do mind,” I say, firmly. “I want to feel close to you.”
They kiss my shoulder again as they settle back in the pillows and bring me with them. When their hand is back on my hip, I exhale slowly.
“Touch yourself, Maeve,” they say. “Make yourself feel good. A good girl likes you deserves to feel good.”
Chapter Forty-One
Loncey
Here we are again, and yet it’s nothing like last time. Last time I was in a different bed from her, little more than a few feet away but it could have been a different planet for how uncertain I felt about what I should say, what I should do to make Maeve feel good. This time, it feels very different. She’s in my arms. She wants me close. She wants me to be with her and share this moment physically.
And it feels like a gift.
I have done many, many things with people’s bodies. I have fucked and kissed and licked and sucked and touched and stroked and caressed and spanked and held and squeezed and adored all parts of all kinds of bodies. I’ve been inside people and I’ve had them inside me. I’ve had fingers and toes and tongues and dicks and cunts in my mouth. I’ve fucked people until they’ve laughed, screamed and occasionally cried. I’ve had myhand around partners’ throats and ordered them to keep their eyes open as I made them come. I’ve felt a partner’s orgasm rip through them and tasted what that does to their body.
But nothing feels more intimate than what I’m doing with Maeve right now. Fully dressed. Spooning. One arm cradling her head and the other hand light on her hip. The material of her pajamas moves under my fingers as I assume she slides her hand under the waistband.
“Can I kiss your shoulder and neck while you start to play with your clit?” I ask, saying each word carefully to gauge if any are too much for Maeve, but her body stays relaxed and supple against me.
