Work Text:
You couldn’t get your eyes off her hands. Couldn’t get your hands off them either. Every time you started rolling her rings over her knuckles, Robin barely gave you a sideways glance. You could recall the lines of her palms by memory, little tally marks of the life she’d lived, some creases deeper than others.
For a long while you thought this was something akin to twiddling your thumbs. Stimulation and closeness with your best friend, an extension of you just as much as you were an extension of her. If anyone had something to say, well, you were just keeping yourself busy, and playing with her hands was something to do.
Nevermind the way you held her hand during scary movies, the way she slipped her fingers around your bicep in that tense moment before the sting of music and drop of a knife. Over time this felt like branding, the closer you got to realizing your feelings, the longer her touch lingered on your skin.
Months pass like this before you both dive fully off the deep end.
The bedside lamp is still on, both of you holding onto some childhood fear of the dark, your coat rack turning into a violent intruder, every creak of your old house a step closer to your end. You spent the last several hours watching every B horror film you could get your hands on, underground copies hidden in the back of the video store, and movie theater rips of whatever was out now. The fear is at least justified tonight.
Your shoulder rests against hers in bed, a queen bed that gives you no excuse to be so close, except you were scared.
This is the excuse you use when you reach for her hand, the excuse she uses when she tangles her legs with yours, the excuse you both use when you turn to face each other, centimeters separating you.
It was scary. It was dark. What else could you do but curl into each other for protection?
Silently, you run her knuckles over your lips, the dim orange glow of the lamp shining off her freckled skin. She watches as you close your mouth around her thumb, a little shiver combing down her body and into yours. You can feel goosebumps on her legs, and she watches with intent while you drag your tongue down the length of her thumb.
She runs her slick thumb over your lips, tugging at the corner, tilting her forehead against yours, just shy of a kiss before she stops.
“I—is this a good idea?” She asks, a crack in her voice.
You nod, opening her palm to press a kiss against the sweaty skin, “It has to be, right?”
She stares at you, blinking several times before leaning the rest of the way in. Her hand flattens against the side of your face as she holds you in place, her lips shaking at the start. No matter the hesitance, this kiss lights you both up, almost magnetizing your bodies together. She slips an arm under your neck, you wrap yours around her torso.
The movements are slow as you progress, cotton pajamas folding between you, the hem of your shorts riding up as you slide a leg over her. She falls deeper and deeper into the kiss, her thumb prodding at the corner of your mouth, and as she breaks away to catch her breath, you suckle at the tip.
“Robin?” You ask, grabbing her hand to press kisses along each fingertip.
“Hm?” She says, her eyes fixed on your mouth.
“Do you, um,” You swallow hard, and focus on kissing her palm while you talk, nerves rattling your body, “Can I show you something? I promise if you don’t like it, we can stop and just go to sleep and forget this ever happened, okay?”
The arm under your neck comes up to your hair, petting the back of your head. Robin flicks her eyes down your blanketed silhouette and nods.
With the same caution and speed as every touch preceding this one, you guide Robin’s hand down your body, over your breasts, and the curve of your waist, stopping at the hemline of your shorts. Her breath catches, lips parting and eyes fluttering closed as you slip your hands under the waistband. You pause once more while staring at her, and, with her eyes still closed, she nods again.
Your hand cups over hers as she cups over you, and you feel the warm wash of slick just with the promise of her fingers against you. You slide her hand up, pushing her middle finger between your lips, the fingertip grazing over your clit. Just that touch is overwhelming, and you lean further into her, open mouths brushing together before you fall back into deep kisses.
Robin follows with your guidance, letting you control the way she touches you, her shivering hand growing steadier every time you moan into her mouth. The kisses are sloppy and arrhythmic, her tongue pressing into your mouth, desperation written in her entire body. You feel your lips swelling, certain they’ll be chapped tomorrow morning, all tingling and cold without hers. Her short nails graze up your back before flattening on the center of your spine, squeezing your bodies together best they can without stifling the circulation of your hands between your legs.
She’s breathless and wanting, and when she touches you of her own accord it’s like a crack of lightning on an already burning tree. She slides her fingers inside you, curling them up against your walls, her touches intuitive and confident.
You knot your now free hand into her hair, keeping her kissing you, the pump of her fingers inside you making it near impossible for you to kiss her back. She laughs against your mouth as you start to lose yourself, a pleasant giggle undercut with the rasp in her voice, and you shush her, though the sound is broken and stuttering.
“Wow, that good?” She teases, carrying a softness to her that kicks up butterflies in your stomach.
You weren’t sure you’d ever get her to look at you the way she’s looking at you now. Careful and loving and undercut with desire that manifests in her hands on you, in you. If tonight is the only time this happens, you could live the rest of your life on the memory.
When you close your eyelids, she leans forward and kisses them, her fingers slipping out of you, sliding back up to run over your clit. She needs no direction now, instead guiding you through the orgasm that cascades over you moments later. Your body quakes next to her, and you bury your face into her neck, melting over the feeling of her lips kissing anywhere she can reach. Focusing on your breathing, the orgasm stretches beyond what you’re familiar with, suspended in your chest as you breathe in, plunging into your stomach as you breathe out.
Robin keeps her rhythm even as your peak fades, your body cooling until her touch is just shy of too much. You wrap your fingers around her wrist and usher her back between your chests, holding hands in the tight space as your kisses lengthen, slow and lazy and still out of breath.
You trail a hand down her body, but she shakes her head.
“I think my brain needs to catch up with my body first. Is that okay?” She whispers, kissing your knuckles.
You nod and squeeze her hand, “Of course it is.”
Another kiss.
The room is no longer blanketed with fear, your bodies warm in the golden glow of the lamp, dim as it may be. You brush her hair out of her face, and kiss her cheekbone. Sleep comes easy in each other’s arms.