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The front door of the convenience store chimes, announcing a customer. Robin takes a second to focus her eyes, and looks over to see three teens avoiding eye contact. Sometimes she wishes she could tell anxious customers point-blank how ridiculous it would be for her to judge them.
She’s not exactly on the path to greatness at this shitty convenience store.
Which is fine. Not everyone does great things. The teens will figure that out soon if they haven’t already, and maybe they’ll stop worrying about it so much. But they’ll just be replaced by a new group of insecure kids. Circle of life.
She returns to what she was doing before they got here: leaning against the counter and singing along to the song on the loudspeaker, albeit quieter than before.
“You know I love you, so ple-e-ease…” Robin pauses for dramatic effect, bobbing her head to the beat. “...love me do!” She mimics the buzzing harmonica with what she’s been told is absurdly off-key humming.
The teenagers are in the very back of the store, exactly where she can’t really see them. She could watch the security cameras, but what would be the point? She’s not going to do anything if they steal. Her manager keeps the worst inventory she’s ever seen, and he takes something unpaid just about every shift she works.
Man, this is not her favorite job.
But she thinks about how often she gets high at work, how often she pockets an extra bag of candy or a Fireball shooter, and her absolute control over the sound system, and remembers that it could be an awful lot worse.
The teens walk up to the register, hands full of some of the most processed food known to mankind, and Robin smiles at them. Each pays with cash, and thanks her as they leave, and just like that, she has the store to herself again.
She looks at the clock. It’s almost five, so her manager will be leaving any minute. She very deliberately does not have any emotional reaction to that fact, just keeps singing along to the Beatles and lets the seconds pass, until she hears the break room door open.
“Hey, girl.”
“Hey, Murray.”
“Are you high yet?”
She laughs without humor. “Nope.”
“Good girl,” he smirks, and she smells weed as he walks up to her. “You know me, though.”
“Well, you’re the boss!” Robin says, just like she always does.
Murray laughs. “Sure, whatever. You know you’re always welcome back there, right?”
Robin just keeps smiling blandly. “Yeah, I like to take my break at 6.”
He walks behind the counter and stands closer to her than she would like. “You know what I mean,” he says. “I’ve got some tequila waiting for me at home.”
“Nice,” she says, aiming for polite but not curious for details. “You’re a tequila guy."
“You know it. I was out last night until, like, 4 am. Too much tequila, probably.”
“You got a hangover?”
“I did earlier, but I took an Advil. Not too bad now.”
“That’s good.”
There’s a beat of silence. Robin doesn’t fill it.
“Okay, girl, I’m heading home. Just gonna grab some dinner.” He walks to the freezer, pulling out one of the random TGI Friday’s meals. “Think these are any good?”
Robin grins, happy for the subject change. “I mean, how could buffalo-style chicken wings be bad?”
“I bet they could find a way.” Murray keeps it, though, and takes a water bottle as he walks out. “I’ll see you.”
“Have a good night!” Robin calls out with practiced cheeriness. She sighs as soon as the door closes. There’s no such thing as a free lunch, and there’s no such thing as a perfect boss.
Jason Derulo plays over the speakers, and Robin focuses as hard as she can on the early-2010s pop. “Yeah, the drums, they swing low… and the trumpets, they go, bwamp-amp buh-duh-duh-duh dot dot-”
The door chimes, and a new customer walks in. Robin’s mouth flies shut.
As soon as they’re gone, Robin is pulling out a cart, clicking it one-two-three-four-five times on before the door has swung shut. She doesn’t always get high at work. But she’d be lying if she said she didn’t usually get high at work.
Steve called her crazy for that, after he’d tried it one shift and apparently gotten the worst munchies of his life. Robin would never admit this out loud, but she liked the dull, dizzy hunger of being high on an empty stomach. She got too full on too little these days, anyways.
Dinner is yogurt and low-sugar oatmeal, blueberry and maple-brown-sugar respectively. Robin takes small bites and focuses on her YouTube video. In a true miracle, she is only interrupted by a single customer for the entire thirty-minute break.
“Thursday nights, huh,” she says as she washes her spoon and bowl in the sink in the break room. The door chimes from the main store and she regrets jinxing it as she sets down the half-clean dishes.
The rest of the shift is deeply uneventful. Robin appreciates the quiet. She spends a good hour restocking, singing to Conan Gray as she orients each new product face-forward. She doesn’t really know why she cares, but she does it anyways, and allows herself a nonzero amount of pride in the shelves when she’s done.
By 10 P.M., she has pulled a chair from the break room behind the register, and is poorly attempting a crossword on her phone when the door chimes.
“Rob!”
“Steve!” Robin cheers, “You’ve saved me!”
“Bad shift?” he laughs, walking to the break room to put his jacket and backpack away.
“No, it was actually, like, really quiet. I’m just tired,” Robin says.
“You miss Nancy?” Steve teases.
“Maybe,” Robin says lightly. It’s an honest answer. “Can you grab my timesheet?”
“One step ahead of you,” he says, stepping behind the register, paper in hand. “I’ll trade you for aux.”
“Fi-ine,” Robin huffs, as though she’s making a huge sacrifice. She pauses Tom Rosenthal, unplugging her phone, and scribbles down her hours. “We’re out of those protein milks again.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
“I don’t get why Murray won’t order more. They’ve gotta have the highest markup in the whole store.”
“Do you think Murray is doing math?” Steve laughs.
“Good point,” Robin sighs, zipping her thick jacket and picking up her own backpack. “Okay, I’m out. Have a good shift.”
“You, too. Oh, fucking–you know what I mean,” Steve replies.
Robin laughs, the store’s front door already shutting behind her. It’s cold, but not windy. The still air is icy. She takes a hit and watches the clouds curl and twist in the streetlight. Then she watches her own breath do the same and taps her foot to Twenty One Pilots until the 21 pulls up to the bus stop and she’s on her second twenty-five-minute book break of the day.
Her five-block walk home from the bus stop goes by in a blink, and Robin climbs the steps to her second-floor apartment thinking about bed.
She opens the door to see Nancy in the kitchen. “Hi, Nance.”
“How was work?” Nancy asks. She has a glint in her eye that Robin can’t immediately interpret.
“Slow,” Robin answers, taking her shoes off. “How was yours?”
“I wish it was slow. I’m still stressed,” Nancy replies. “Your job is so easy.” She watches Robin’s face for a reaction.
Robin hates it when Nancy says that. At least Nancy is allowed to tell the kids off if they’re rude to her. At least Nancy doesn’t get groped if she ends up in the back room with her boss.
“I’m going to change,” she says, and feels eyes on her back as she leaves the kitchen. Robin strips and pulls on sweatpants that have started to hang off of her, a sweatshirt that’s newly too-big. She pads back out wearing tall socks and holding a bottle of wine.
“Want some?” Robin asks as she pours herself a cup. Nancy hums a yes, and soon the two are seated, not-quite-touching on the couch. The fairy lights on the walls twinkle against the warm sunshine of the paint.
The wine is white and sweet, and Robin sips a little too quickly. Nancy suggests a TV show and Robin agrees without thinking about it for a second. She leans into Nancy, physically drained and still cold, and Nancy kisses the top of her head so gently Robin almost can’t feel it.
She tries to keep breathing normally, like nothing had just happened. As though that casual affection was everyday for them.
“He’s such a bad liar,” Nancy comments on the reality show.
“I mean, I’m no better. I can’t judge.”
“Yeah, but you don’t try to pull it off anyways.”
“Oh, yeah. That’s true,” Robin reflects. “I can judge a little.”
“I’m good at it,” Nancy says confidently. “Right?”
“Yeah, it’s, like, eerie. I forget you’re lying sometimes.”
“Oh my god, remember last Christmas? At your grandma’s?” Nancy laughs.
Robin snorts. “That was honestly inspired. What did you say? You and Jonathan?”
“And your whole family bought it!”
“Did I tell you my aunt texted me a week later to check on you?”
Nancy laughs so hard she almost spills her wine. “Holy shit, no, you didn’t. What did you tell her?”
“Uh… I have no clue,” Robin giggles. “Let me look…” She pulls out her phone, and searches her texts for the conversation. “Here.” She hands the phone to Nancy.
Nancy scans for a second, reading the messages about twice as fast as Robin could. “Oh, that’s sweet.”
“What did I say?”
“‘She’s already back on Tinder!’” Nancy read aloud. “Shows what you know. I would use Hinge.”
“Oh, my bad. I’ll make sure to check with you next time,” Robin says. She downs the rest of her wine. She feels a little slow, and she doesn’t know if it’s the alcohol or just the way Nancy always makes her feel. Like she’s a step behind.
“You’d better,” Nancy says, half-listening. She’s still reading something on Robin’s phone, and Robin doesn’t think the conversation was that long.
“Whatcha looking at?”
“You’ve been texting Vickie.”
Robin fights the urge to roll her eyes. “Nance, she has a boyfriend.”
“So?” Nancy is still reading intently.
“And I have a girlfriend, in case you’ve forgotten!”
“So?”
“Don’t be like that, come on. Am I allowed to have one friend?” Robin is trying to keep the note of annoyance out of her voice. She wants to grab her phone back.
“As long as you can keep it in your pants around her,” Nancy says in a flat voice. She’s still reading, almost deliberately not making eye contact with Robin. Like she’s daring Robin to tell her to stop.
“Knock it off!” Robin says, hurt. “Don’t be mean.”
Fucking finally, Nancy looks up. Her blue eyes are steely. “What did you say?”
Oh, shit. “I just meant-”
“Don’t make excuses,” Nancy says, glaring. “I’m not being mean. You’re so sensitive.”
“I never check your phone!”
“Yeah, because I’m not a fucking slut.” Nancy enunciates the words sharply.
“I’m not a slut,” Robin says weakly. She doesn’t know why the word stings so badly.
“You’re not? I bet you’re wet right now.”
“I’m not!” Robin protests.
Without a word, Nancy shoves her hand down Robin’s sweatpants, touching her roughly, like she’s a piece of meat. Robin fights the urge to pull away–she’s already pushed up against the end of the couch. It wouldn’t matter, anyways.
Nancy holds her fingers in front of Robin’s face. Fuck. She is wet.
“That’s not…”
“Not what?” Nancy says mockingly. “You’re so bad at lying.”
“I…” Robin tries. She’s not going to hold her own in an argument, not against Nancy. “I’m sorry I called you mean.”
Nancy just looks at her. Robin feels like prey. The reality show is still playing in the background.
“Please, Nance. I’m really sorry.” Robin’s cheeks prickle with heat. Nancy is still just looking at her.
Silently, Nancy turns back to Robin’s phone, still on in her hand. She keeps scrolling. Robin wants to scream.
Instead, she stands and walks to the kitchen, pours herself another glass of wine. Her shadow is layered across the wall, cast by all angles of fairy lights and the dim bulb left on in the pantry. Robin holds one hand up to see her fingers splayed on butter-yellow paint. Have they gotten bonier? The shadows shift, shaky-edged, and Robin realizes she’s trembling.
She takes a long hit and holds it to a slow count of ten to feel the choking warmth in her lungs. Then she takes another.
Back in the living room, Nancy has apparently gotten bored of Robin’s phone, because it’s turned off on the coffee table.
“Convinced I’m not fucking Vickie?” Robin says sarcastically.
Thankfully, Nancy just laughs. “More like, physically couldn’t keep reading. Do you ever talk about anything interesting with her?”
“Okay. Thanks, Nance. Sorry my private conversations are too boring for you.” Robin leans into the word ‘boring,’ passive-aggressive.
“What is wrong with you?” Nancy says, laughing disbelief in her tone. “You need to calm down. Here, finish this.” She holds her nearly-full cup out to Robin.
“I just got more, don’t worry.” Robin tosses back half of her own glass in one gulp.
“So you can have mine after yours.”
“Thanks,” Robin says, and she’s worried she means it.
She sits back down and tries to refocus on the show. Her fingers feel like ice, and she wiggles them to discover they’re actually stiff from the cold. Lame. She reaches blindly to her right and finds Nancy’s hand easily.
“Oh my god!” Nancy exclaims, turning to grab Robin’s other hand as well. “Did you have dinner? You’re freezing.”
“Yeah, Mom,” Robin snarks, a little too quickly. She feels cornered and panicky for no real reason.
Nancy’s grip tightens painfully. “What the hell is up with you?”
“What?”
“Don’t act dumb. You’re being so fucking rude.”
“Maybe I’m annoyed you don’t trust me,” Robin blurts. Her skin feels prickly. She hates arguing like this. She doesn’t know why she’s picking fights.
“Why should I?”
“I don’t know, because we’re fucking dating?” Robin says, too loud.
“Don’t yell,” Nancy bites out. “Jesus.”
Robin doesn’t think, she just moves, and suddenly she’s on top of Nancy and they’re kissing. Their teeth clack together and it vibrates through Robin’s skull, but her hands are buried in Nancy’s hair and neither of them are pulling away.
Nancy is grabbing at her sweatshirt and Robin doesn’t have time to process it before a shock of pleasure jolts through her. Her mouth falls open slightly, and Nancy, encouraged, pinches Robin’s nipple again, pulling a moan from her throat. The sound is muffled into Nancy’s mouth.
Robin can feel Nancy smiling into their kiss. She pulls back. Nancy looks so fucking smug.
“I knew you were horny,” Nancy says proudly.
“I…” Robin’s thoughts move slowly. “I wasn’t.”
“You weren’t?” Nancy repeats, eyes dancing with laughter. “You were wet.”
Robin flushes and, despite herself, buries her face in Nancy’s shoulder to break their eye contact. That’s not fair. “I… I was high. Not my fault.”
“I’m not soaking my underwear every time I take a hit,” Nancy counters. She grabs Robin’s chin roughly and pulls her up. “Don’t hide. Look at me.”
“Sorry,” Robin whispers, suddenly just inches from Nancy’s face. She knows she’s supposed to be holding eye contact, but she can’t stop staring at Nancy’s lips, soft and rose-pink.
“Accepted,” Nancy says, rolling Robin’s nipple between her fingers. She smirks when Robin squirms. “But, are you going to make it up to me?”
“How?” Robin says, breathless. She’s hyper-aware of her own skin, can’t focus on much beyond the places she’s touching Nancy.
“You never figure this part out,” Nancy says, almost fond as she shoves Robin off of her and stands. Slowly, Nancy unbuttons her baby-pink flannel, French-tip nails deftly sliding pearlescent buttons out of their holes until her shirt hangs open, just barely covering her nipples.
Nancy looks like a model. She unties the bow on her matching sweatpants tantalizingly slowly, and Robin tears her eyes away for a second to see Nancy watching her closely. The flash of eye contact is so intense that Robin almost physically flinches. Her eyes dart away, finding Nancy’s sweatpants and underwear on the ground already, and suddenly Nancy is on the couch next to her again, glass in hand.
“Your cheeks are red,” Nancy points out. Robin feels very watched, and doesn’t quite know what to do with her hands.
“Are they?” As she thinks about it, warmth fills her face, and now she knows she’s blushing if she wasn’t already.
“You always blush when you’re tipsy.” Nancy lifts the glass in her hand to Robin’s lips, and Robin doesn’t think, just drinks, eyes on Nancy to watch her reaction. Nancy grins. She looks almost hungry.
Robin smiles back for a long moment.
Suddenly, her vision blurs with movement. Her outstretched hand, then her body, hit the ground with a thud that she feels in her bones more than she hears. She blinks. She’s on the floor. Nancy had pushed her off the couch. She’s barely processed this when bruising fingers grip her shoulders and pull Robin between Nancy’s open legs. She follows without a fight, confused.
“You were taking too long,” Nancy says by way of explanation.
Robin just looks up at her with wide eyes, shocked into silence by the impact.
“Aw, what’s wrong?” Nancy’s voice is mocking, but gentle. “Did I knock all the thoughts out of your pretty little head?”
For a second, Robin doesn’t know how to answer that. A smile tugs at her lips, despite herself, and she can’t help but poke back a little. “You think I’m pretty.”
“Prettier when you’re down where you belong,” Nancy says, pushing Robin’s head down so quickly that she can barely think before Nancy’s thighs are slamming shut around her head, holding her in place, mouth and nose smothered in Nancy’s smell and her skin and–oh, she’s wet too. Robin hums in quiet victory before she opens her mouth and begins sucking.
She starts so softly that it barely counts as pressure, tongue moving gently around Nancy’s clit, just tasting. She tries to angle her face so she can breathe through her nose, but Nancy keeps a firm hand on top of her head, holding her down even when she properly commits to the struggle.
When her lungs begin to burn, she desperately pushes away and manages to grab a breath before Nancy’s other hand cups the back of Robin’s head, petting her for a second, then slamming her face back into Nancy’s cunt.
The mix of anger, guilt, and hurt that had momentarily quieted in Robin’s chest flares up again. She hadn’t planned on having sex tonight, still feeling prickly after the fight they’d had over the weekend, but she’d gone with the flow, hadn’t she? But she didn’t always like choking, and Nancy knew that, and she hadn’t asked permission.
But here Robin is anyway. Fuck.
She halfheartedly begins sucking for just a moment. When Nancy loosens her grip, Robin pushes herself backwards, scrambling a foot away from Nancy for good measure, relishing the free access to air.
“What the fuck, Nance?”
Nancy doesn’t respond, just cocks an eyebrow.
Robin’s mouth flies open before she can really think about what she wants to say. “You’re gonna be a bitch to me as soon as I get home, and I barely even complain, and then you fucking choke me without even asking? I don’t like that!”
Robin sees Nancy move for just a second before her ears are ringing with the crack of skin hitting skin. Her cheek is burning. Nancy had slapped her.
“You think I give a shit what you like?” Her tone is still mocking, but cold. “I work my ass off all day while you fuck around getting high in a gas station. I make dinner, I clean up after you, and I’m the one who’s saving up enough to move you out of here. You barely even have friends, so what the fuck do you do all the time besides exactly what Robin wants?” She exaggerates these last few words, drawing them out in a sing-song.
Robin is frozen, eyes wide with shock. Her breath is caught in her chest.
“Then when you can finally do one nice fucking thing for me, you get an attitude? Am I getting that right?” Nancy glares, ice-blue eyes narrowed.
“I didn’t mean–”
“Maybe I’d believe you if you hadn’t been pulling this shit since you got home.”
Robin wants to leave the room, but her legs are jelly. Her vision is blurry. She’s about to cry, she realizes. Fuck. Robin hates crying in front of Nancy.
“And now you’re going to act like the victim.” Nancy says. “Like always.” She leans forward. “You’d better finish that bottle tonight. At least when you’re drunk you don’t mouth off so much.”
Robin chokes on a sob. “I hate you,” she says, voice wavering. There’s no conviction behind it.
“No, you don’t.” Nancy looks at the kitchen expectantly.
Robin takes the opportunity for a break from her stare and stumbles up and out of the room. In the kitchen, her tears flow freely. She drinks from the bottle until she gasps for air, then takes a few uneven breaths.
She doesn’t want to think about this anymore, not when it’s not going to help anything anyways.
“You’re okay,” she whispers to herself shakily. “You’re okay. It’s okay. Don’t think about it.” One more deep breath, and she’s grabbing the bottle of wine and heading back into the living room.
The world is a blur around her as she moves, until she’s back between Nancy’s thighs. Robin avoids eye contact. Don’t think about it.
“That’s more like it,” Nancy says sweetly. Robin doesn’t need any encouragement this time as she buries her face in Nancy’s folds. Her tongue draws circles as she sucks, harder this time. She’s not in the mood to take it slow anymore.
After a minute or two, Nancy’s breaths are becoming moans, and her hips are pressing up into Robin’s mouth. Robin tries to speed up, tongue firm, alternating between flat licking and figure-eights around Nancy’s clit. She wants this over.
Nancy is whining now. Whispers of “Oh my god,” and “Fuck, Robin,” float through the air. Robin manages to grab a breath before she’s pushed back in, more gently now that she’s right where Nancy wants her.
Robin’s hand is yanked upwards and placed expectantly on Nancy’s nipple. Robin ignores the surge of annoyance she feels–is she not already doing all the work here?–and begins to roll Nancy’s nipple between her fingers, brushing against the top where she’s most sensitive. Nancy’s breath catches.
Robin’s focus is divided now, and she’s struggling to keep track of both her mouth and hand, but she can tell Nancy is getting close. Nancy’s breath is quick, each exhale a moan. Robin is also breathing hard, half-choking in the dark and warmth between Nancy’s thighs, but at least Nancy is letting her catch a full breath or two every once in a while.
Robin absentmindedly realizes she’s properly wet now, too, probably soaking through her underwear. Hopefully not her sweatpants. She presses her legs together. She doesn’t know if she wants Nancy to notice or not.
“I’m close, I’m close,” Nancy says, voice breathy and high-pitched. Robin hates how grateful she is to hear it.
She takes one last quick breath, redoubling her efforts. She pinches and rolls Nancy’s nipple as fast as she can, mouth full of Nancy’s clit and slick skin. The world muffles as Nancy’s thighs tighten around her head until Robin thinks Nancy will break her neck.
“I’m coming,” Nancy finally moans, thighs flexing, impossibly tight, and Robin can’t breathe, but she keeps sucking until Nancy pushes her away, sensitive post-orgasm.
She looks up at Nancy dizzily. Her eyes won’t quite focus.
“You’re so good with your mouth,” Nancy says, breathless. “God.”
Robin preens, happy that Nancy’s happy with her again. “Thank you.”
“Come here, baby.” Nancy pats her lap, opening her thighs again. “Clean me up.”
Robin nods wordlessly, crawling back. Nancy’s inner thighs are a mess, and Robin gently licks them clean, selfishly hoping this won’t turn Nancy on again. She’s too tired for a second round. Once Nancy’s thighs are clean, Robin tries to pull away, but Nancy stops her.
“You’re forgetting something.” Her tone isn’t angry, exactly, but there’s a warning note to it.
For a moment Robin just blinks up at her, confused, before realizing. She closes her eyes this time, out of energy and too drunk to focus on so many senses at once. She traces Nancy’s folds with her tongue, unsure how she can fully clean a mess that she made with this same mouth.
Finally, Nancy hums a “Thank you.” Robin rests her head against Nancy’s leg, basking in her warmth. She’s not quite cold anymore, between the alcohol and all the movement, but Nancy is so solid, the kind of heat that sinks into your bones and stays there. Robin is jealous.
They sit like that for a bit, and Robin realizes the TV has been playing this whole time, ignored. It’s good background noise now, as she drifts in Nancy’s lap. She’s a little lightheaded.
Nancy laughs. She must be paying more attention than Robin is. Good thing Nancy picked the TV show, since Robin isn’t getting anything out of it anyways.
Robin feels herself relaxing, tension leaving her frame as she slumps further into Nancy’s thighs. Her eyes are half-open and unfocused, vaguely following the pattern on the pink-and-white pillow at the end of the couch. Nancy’s choice, but she likes it too, pastel rosiness warm under the string lights.
“I’m going to bed,” Nancy says eventually.
Robin blinks back to reality, feeling fuzzy. “Good idea,” she mumbles into Nancy’s skin. She’s sleepy.
“You didn’t finish the wine,” Nancy comments, tone neutral. “I thought I asked you to.”
“Sorry,” Robin says, quiet and unprotesting as she lifts her head. Nancy hands her the bottle and Robin drinks until it’s empty, pausing a few times to breathe, but she can’t put it down because she knows she won’t be able to force herself to pick it back up. It’s so sticky-sweet. Robin thinks she prefers reds.
Things start to get blurry after that. Nancy helps her up, but doesn’t help her walk to the bedroom, and Robin feels her knees wobble. Nancy laughs when Robin leans a hand on the wall for balance. Nancy is still laughing when Robin gets lost in her sweatshirt trying to take it off, fingers clumsy and head spinning, but she answers Robin’s confused whine by helping her pull the heavy fabric off, and tugs Robin’s sweatpants down for good measure.
Robin tumbles into bed, naked and already cold again, and watches Nancy re-enter the room holding a glass of water.
“Drink,” Nancy says, handing it to her. Robin spills about half of it on herself immediately, and she can’t stop laughing until Nancy rolls her eyes and grabs Robin’s jaw roughly, manhandling her until the rest of the water is safely down Robin’s throat.
“But I’m full,” Robin protests when Nancy brings back a second glass.
“I’m not babysitting your hangover tomorrow,” Nancy says, passing her the cup.
Robin smiles. “You loooove me,” she gloats, and manages not to spill this time.
Nancy shuts the lights off without answering, and Robin buries herself in blankets until the bed dips next to her. She wraps herself around Nancy and inhales the smell of Nancy’s shampoo until she can’t get enough oxygen.
“You’re a mess,” Nancy says suddenly, and Robin makes a tiny sound of hurt, unsure what Nancy means. “Down here,” Nancy adds, patting Robin’s pussy gently.
“Sorry,” Robin giggles. “Not my fault.”
“You little whore,” Nancy says, so sweetly Robin has to hide her face in Nancy’s arm. “Shy?”
“No,” Robin whispers into Nancy’s skin. “Embarrassed.”
“Cute,” Nancy says. “You’re so cute when you’re drunk.”
Robin whines wordlessly in reply. Nancy disappears from the bed, and Robin mourns the loss until the light is suddenly flipped back on. Nancy is holding a baby-blue dildo. The one that vibrates, Robin realizes. Her breath catches in her throat. She doesn’t know if she’s actually horny. She does not think she wants to come.
Nancy doesn’t ask, though, just pulls the blankets off Robin and crawls over her. Robin doesn’t try to resist, but she shivers as cool air surrounds her.
Nancy pinches her nipple and a jolt of pleasure pulls a moan from her throat, unwilling. Her nerves feel electric. More moans spill out, and Robin can’t think, can’t control her voice. Her legs fall open against her will.
She’s panting, she realizes, and high-pitched whines fill the room. She can feel her heartbeat between her legs, hot and pulsing.
Nancy pulls away, and Robin can’t help but reach after her. “Needy,” Nancy says. “I think you’re ready.”
Robin feels something pressing into her then. It’s cold and too-big and she tries to squirm away, but Nancy pins her easily. Robin pushes at Nancy’s hand clumsily. Nancy doesn’t even budge.
“It won’t fit,” Robin whimpers. Nancy ignores her and keeps coaxing the dildo deeper, stretching Robin until she thinks something will tear. Tiny, pained noises escape her mouth until Nancy pinches her nipple, cutting her off.
Robin can’t breathe. It’s too much, the stretch of the dildo inside her, the overwhelming pleasure in her chest, and she wants to get away, wants to hide from Nancy and the bright ceiling light and the desperate noises filling the room that she’s pretty sure she’s the one making.
And all of a sudden, it’s in. It’s still so big she can’t think, but it’s not painful anymore, so she stops trying to writhe away from Nancy, and Nancy must take this as permission, because–
She’s fucking Robin with the dildo, and it’s so much deeper, how could it even go any deeper, and the slick slide inside her feels so good. Her mouth falls open, loud moans and half-formed pleas slipping out. She doesn’t even know what she’s trying to ask for.
Nancy is hitting somewhere so sensitive, so deep inside her, that her hands are fluttering with the feeling. She’s floating, barely able to think through the dildo’s rhythmic movements.
“Look at me,” Nancy demands.
Robin struggles to drag her eyelids open. Nancy’s thrusts slow for a moment, mercifully, and Robin manages to half-focus on Nancy’s face.
“There she is,” Nancy says in a saccharine-sweet voice. “Keep your eyes open.”
Then she thrusts the dildo, not too fast, but somehow finding a spot that feels even better. Robin’s eyes roll back, and she feels her eyelids flutter, but she fights to keep them open as she moans. Nancy grinds the dildo into her and Robin sees stars. She grabs at the sheets and grips them tightly.
Mean, tight fingers close around her wrist, yanking it up and away from the bed. “Don’t fuck up the bedsheets,” Nancy says. “Do I have to tie you up?”
Robin shakes her head quickly, and Nancy keeps fucking her as the room spins. Robin’s hands land on the pillows instead, searching for something to keep her grounded through the overwhelming ecstasy.
Nancy picks up speed again and Robin feels something building in her stomach. Her pussy is throbbing, nerves alight with the push-pull of the dildo deep inside her, and she tries to open her mouth to warn Nancy, but all that comes out is a long moan, breaking into a squeak every time the dildo hits her core, warm and so sensitive.
Robin’s back arches off the bed as she tumbles over the edge of her orgasm, thighs clenching hard on Nancy’s hand, eyes closing against her will. Every cell in her body feels like it’s overflowing with pleasure. She shudders through waves of bliss.
Robin goes limp, exhausted and oversensitive. The dildo is still buried inside her. Nancy slowly begins to pull it out before slamming it back into Robin, who can’t do anything but whimper. She struggles to pull away, feeling like she’s underwater, fuzzy and lightheaded.
When Nancy thrusts the dildo a second time, Robin almost cries, trying to roll away instead. Her body is loose and relaxed, but so heavy she can barely move. Nancy continues to push the dildo deep into her, unbelievably slowly, ignoring Robin’s shaking hands and weakly kicking legs. There’s nothing she can do but take it.
It’s not painful, exactly, but she’s drowning in the feeling, unable to think or get away or do anything but feel. She whines with every breath. Her eyes are screwed shut.
And then Nancy speeds up, and Robin’s knees slam shut, trying to stop it, and a sob escapes her chest. Her eyes prickle with tears.
Nancy laughs mockingly. “Aw,” she says, “Is it too much?” A button clicks, and Robin has a split second of panicked realization before it clicks again and the dildo begins to vibrate.
Robin wails, knees shaking, and the only thing she can feel is the buzzing against her skin and inside her. Tears are rolling down her cheeks now, and her hands move to cover her face before Nancy pushes them back down, leaving the dildo deep in Robin.
“I will tie you to the bed and leave you in the morning,” Nancy warns. “You know better.”
Robin slurs an apology. She blurrily opens her eyes. Through her tears, the light gives Nancy a halo.
“Oh, look at you,” Nancy says, sounding delighted. “Can you even think anymore?”
She thrusts the dildo teasingly, forcing a moan from Robin.
“Doesn’t sound like it. Poor thing.” Nancy fucks in and out of Robin lazily a few times, laughing when Robin tries and fails to close her legs and push Nancy away. “I think you can come again, right, baby?”
Robin can barely follow the words, but once she understands, she shakes her head slowly, whimpering out small cries of protest. The buzzing of the dildo is filling her head, drowning out any other thoughts.
Nancy turns the buzzing up a level, and the noise that leaves Robin’s throat doesn’t sound human. She can’t stop crying, but as Nancy keeps thrusting it steadily, moans work their way between the sobs as something like pleasure spikes through Robin’s body.
“Good girl, there you go,” Nancy says, pausing on a particularly deep stroke. Despite herself, Robin’s hips roll down, chasing the motion.
Nancy speeds up, then, and Robin tries not to yell. The bed is creaking. Her moans are increasingly high-pitched.
Nancy hits a bundle of nerves inside her with pinpoint precision, and Robin’s thighs shake uncontrollably. Her breath still trembles with half-formed sobs.
It’s so much. Robin is being dragged towards a second orgasm, so forcefully she couldn’t stop if she tried. She whines, eyes fluttering shut, fingers clenched in the blanket.
Nancy pinches her nipple, just once, and it’s all Robin needs to crash into another shuddering, teary orgasm. She can’t breathe between her sobs.
“Oh, poor thing,” Nancy says sympathetically. She pets Robin’s hair as Robin tries unsuccessfully to catch her breath. “Nothing left up there, huh?”
Robin blinks up at her. She’s melting into the sheets, muscles lax. Her eyes won’t focus.
“I should keep you like this,” Nancy muses. “Drunk and high, fucked out of your mind. I could leash you to the bed. It’s all you’re good for, anyways, right?”
When Robin doesn’t reply, Nancy laughs and moves Robin’s head up and down in a nod. Robin lets her. “That’s what I thought. So much better when you can’t talk back.”
Finally, finally, Nancy reaches down and turns off the buzzing inside her. Robin lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.
She shifts her hips, feeling the hypersensitive nerves it presses against. The slight movement is almost painful. But when Nancy pulls the dildo out, teasingly slowly, Robin can’t stop the pleading whine that escapes her mouth. She doesn’t want to be empty.
“Slut,” Nancy says fondly. She shoves the dildo back inside Robin, patting her pussy gently afterwards. “There you go.”
The air is cold, suddenly. Robin clumsily curls up, fingers pressed against her face. Sticky, she thinks. Oh, yeah, she was crying. She tries to rub her tears off against the sheets, but she doesn’t like the dizziness that washes over her with every head movement, so she gives up.
Robin hears movement, and then the lights are off. The bed shifts next to her–Nancy is back. She reaches out blindly with both hands until she finds Nancy’s solid warmth, and tries to tug Nancy towards her.
Nancy laughs. “Miss me already?” Robin hums in agreement, fingers curling into Nancy’s shirt. Nancy lays next to her, and Robin wraps around her, cheek against Nancy’s back, soft and warm.
She knows Nancy isn't perfect, but fuck, neither is she. And Robin knows she’d do anything to avoid coming home to a cold, empty bed.
“Love you, Nance,” Robin mumbles.
“Love you too,” Nancy whispers back.
Robin falls asleep with her lips upturned in a quiet smile.