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Of all the ways Deborah thought she'd spend her weekend at Kelly Kilpatrick's house, getting stuck in the middle of a fourway with her brainless writer/friend/person and one of her many archnemesis and said archnemesis's wife, was definitely not one of them.
Initially she thought maybe this was all a ruse to get back at her for the VMA’s incident and the less than fortunate comments she made at the time. But a few hours into their Cali getaway she had come to the conclusion that revenge was most likely not a goal the couple had in mind.
Not that Deborah believed there was anything to revenge in the first place, they're both comedians afterall. And look at how it worked out, Kelly did start to dress better!
She was even in possession of something that Deborah herself wanted!
So here's how it started.
Kelly and Monica had given them a passionate yet quick tour of their house, guiding them through the east and west wing of the estate while making notes of the expensive— and boring— finishes of the rooms and then finally introducing them to the place they'd spend their nights in: the cream room. A name as bland as the room itself.
What good is money for, if not to hire a decent architect? Deborah wondered but chose to wisely keep her opinions to herself. After all, she needed to focus all her patience and wit into getting that jumpsuit. But after an unexpected makeout session to keep up appearances, Deborah had started to regret her decision to be gay for a day.
Though it was nothing, a quick visit through the closet later on hadn't fixed.
And here is how it's going.
An awkward dinner filled with hundreds of terms Deborah does not know or care about and a less than happy Ava turned suddenly into the giddiest person in the room. Deborah eyes Kelly’s wife in disbelief as the woman starts making the moves on her girl. And yes, Ava is a fake girlfriend and yes it is a fake relationship— but still, people used to have some decorum around things like this, they used to keep it in the family, sneak around in the middle of the night to cheat on their spouses but now a simple invite and an evening of eyefucking and Bob's your uncle!
Sure, let's openly talk about how our partners like to get off. There's nothing weird with that.
Deborah is brought back to the dinner when a particular phrase sneaks through the myriad of thoughts in her head.
“We should go skinny dipping in the pool!” A tipsy Monica suggests. Eyes raking over Ava’s body.
“Hell ye—” Ava starts but Deborah quickly cuts her off with a glare. She fixes her face right after, putting on a quick and nice smile.
“Oh, no, no— this one? She doesn't know how to swim!” She waves the idea off with a forced chuckle, playing it off as an inside joke.
Only Ava is not really getting in with the motion and takes the small snide to heart. “Deborah!” She gasps, cheeks turning into a light shade of pink. Oh, so now she’s embarrassed? Deborah has to swallow down the scoff threatening to break free. A whole dinner of putting her on the spot with obscenities and not knowing how to swim is where she draws the line? Kids these days.
Deborah raises an eyebrow and the bet. She looks Ava right in the eyes and challenges her. “What? It's the truth! I tried to get her into swimming lessons but she couldn't get to the deep end of the pool without screaming.” Everyone— or rather Kelly and Monica laugh alongside her and Ava retreats into herself, arms crossing in shame and anger.
Deborah smilies, thinking she finally has managed to get the upperhand until Monica decides to ruin it.
“You know, i was like that with riding a bike. Now you should see me cross the city in it.” She comments and Ava responds with a shy, earnest smile, which pisses her off for some reason.
“That's so cool.” She says, then turns to Deborah, face growing cold. “Why would you— That's so embarrassing.”
Deborah shrugs. “It's even more embarrassing to drown when you could've easily avoided it.”
Ava scoffs and rolls her eyes and Monica, sensing the tension, raises her hands. “Okay okay, I think we should all… relax a little.”
“Oh, sure sure… what does that mean?” Deborah’s smile is thin and lifeless but the only person in the room who could notice it is currently ogling over the forty-something woman who believes that crystals can somehow heal your body.
Monica doesn't answer, just gets up and vanishes into the kitchen. The air hangs heavy for a moment before a song erupts from all around them.
Kelly’’s wife comes back, two glasses of mystery alcohol in her hands as the bottle waits at the kitchen island. She moves away from her place on the opposite side of the room— her place beside her wife— and walks slowly towards them. Deborah watches as Kelly's wife dances for… Ava? Her? The both of them? Who knows with that skank!
Monica serves Ava’s first, hips swaying side to side as she hands her the drink, then serves Deborah.
“Come dance with me.” She asks and Ava rushes to fulfil her wish. If only she was that proactive when it was Deborah asking her something.
Deborah watches as they dance around and against each other. Bodies swaying back and forth to the rhythm, almost but never fully touching— a small comfort in the sea of uncomfortable feelings she’s experiencing at this moment. Ava’s eyes are half lidded and glued to the cleavage of Monica’s dress and both their arms are in the air as they sway around. And look, Deborah is not dumb and she’s not one for jealousy either, but the eagerness Ava is showing is hitting a very close spot to it. Monica is young— years, decades! — younger than her and fairly beautiful too, she’ll give her that. It's only normal that a young and frankly horny woman like Ava would show interest in her. So why does it sting the way it does? Deborah looks to the side to check if Kelly is feeling the same thing as she is, but only finds her enjoying the view through the thick smoke of her cigar.
“Look at our girls.” She says awkwardly.
Maybe she’s making it weird. It's just two people dancing after some light flirting, there’s nothing wrong with that, it doesn't mean anything! She has done the same thing with Marty and his wives over the years.
The thought only calms her nerves for half a second, before she realizes that her and Marty have actually fucked many many times in between those marriages.
Monica turns around and slowly makes her way to her instead.
“Deborah…”
Her voice rings velvety in Deborah's ears. She blinks and stares in disbelief as Monica starts putting the moves on her!
“Huh? No.”
“Yes…” Monica giggles and leans down, trapping her between the armchair and her body. “Come and dance with me.” She pouts, nimble fingers tracing lines up and down her thighs. Deborah chuckles nervously.
“Oh, my God, she's limber.”
Kelly only laughs, like her wife isnt actively trying to fuck the two other women in the room. Monica keeps at her attack.
“I’m coming to get you.” She jokes, maybe not fully joking. Deborah eyes every exit in the room, trying to calculate an escape route. But Monica has her bound by the feet. Quite literally, the woman is knelt over— almost sitting on her Louboutins. “I’ll be a good little kitty.”
What. The. Actual. Fuck.
“Okay! Okay.” Deborah stands up, agreeing for the sake of ending this unhinged interaction but it quickly realizes she might've just made her first mistake of the night.
God, she needed at least four more shots of whatever liquor they had given them earlier to get through this. Deborah moves stiffly, glaring at Ava over Monica's shoulders only for the younger woman to smirk back at her.
Is that jumpsuit really worth all of this struggle? She thinks and the voice in her head immediately responds: Yes.
So she keeps dancing, swaying, mostly focusing on ignoring this weird feeling forming at the bottom of her stomach. Ava turns around and rolls her hips for Monica and Deborah just now notices how the tight fit of her pants makes her a— No. Nope.
She can't even think about the word A-S-S after what Ava said during dinner. Deborah takes a deep, steadying breath. She can feel her palms sweating and cheeks flushing. How angry is she at this moment?
Angrier than she should be, apparently.
“You know, i just had an idea…” Monica says, arms crossing around Ava’s neck as she pushes back onto Deborah's front. She looks back over her shoulder and smiles, big and mischievous. Deborah fears what she might say next.
“Shall we hot tub?”
Oh, no.
“Hot tub! Hell yeah!” Ava cheers, pupils blown into oblivion. That bimbo….
“Oh that's— that's um… great.” Monica has left her truly speechless, she hurries to Ava’s side and touches her shoulder, lightly at first glance but she sinks her nails into the movement. “I do think it's a little late, though. Right? Maybe we should call it a night? Didn't you say you were tired, sweetie?” She sinks them further, leaving divots in the fabric of her shirt and Ava’s skin probably.
Ava doesn't play into it though. She doesn't listen or maybe she ignores the steel underneath her voice. “Oh, i’m actually pretty awake—”
“You said you were tired—”
“— Feeling pretty good still.”
Deborah presses her lips together. “Well, I forgot to pack my suit so—” She’s halfway through finishing her bullshit excuse when the sight of Monica's lower back comes into view. Monica steps out of the fabric pooling on the ground with a strut. And Deborah has to watch as Ava’s eyes and jaw almost fall out of her body.
“So did i.”
Monica winks at her.
“Oh.”
So, the hot tub thing happened. And so did the skinny dipping.
Deborah has tucked herself up to her chin underneath the water, fingertips drumming against her thighs as she contemplated her life choices. How exactly did she get here? It started with wanting to recreate the moments that made her dad laugh and it landed with her and three other women sitting naked in a hot tub. Which might be the fantasy of the average american male but it was definitely not hers!
Deborah Vance was a straight woman.
In all of her years of fame she had never really gone all the way with a woman. Kisses? Yes. Seeing each other in their underwear? Sure! Some heavy petting when she was drunk? Most definitely. But it's not like she was actually into all of it. She was young! And after years of being in a relationship that had led to nothing but heartbreak and betrayal, she needed some new experiences.
She just never thought she'd get to keep experiencing new things seventy years into her life.
And It all started with the woman currently laughing and giggling on her side while balancing her broken arm out of the water.
Ava looked ridiculous when she tried to yank her shirt out of her cast and she looked ridiculous when Kelly wrapped a plastic bag over her broken arm to protect it but she doesn't look so ridiculous now that their naked bodies are so close by.
Six years ago, Deborah would've never put herself in a situation where she didn't have the upperhand. But six years ago she didn't have a particular someone who revived her career all naked and needy for someone who isn't her.
Not that Deborah wants Ava to be into her. God, no. She can't even imagine how annoying a lovesick Ava would be!
It's not like a romantic thing, or even a sexual thing but over the years Ava has gained the ability to fluster her a bit.
Deborahs finds her eyes scanning over the figure of the younger woman.
Ava is pretty.
This is not a secret nor something she has just recently learned. From the first day they met she thought so. Did she suffer from a chronic case of bad styling? Most definitely. Should she use more conditioner in her hair and just overall put more effort into her health? Deborah has told her so, many many times. But she is pretty. Every man, woman and nonbinarian would think the same.
So it's a little bit hard to just gloss over her naked figure. Actually, it's a little bit hard to gloss over any naked figure. The image of Kelly Kilpatrick in her boxers flashes over her eyes and Deborah quickly shakes it away. See? It's a human problem not a Deborah Vance-with-Ava Daniels problem.
That being said, Deborah sinks further into the gurgling water.
The minutes pass and Ava and Monica are engaging in what can only be described as a ritual mating dance with their eyes and words and touches. Deborah watches as Monica grabs Ava’s jaw and gently pulls it open, pouring down the rest of that so-called expensive liquor they had earlier— which Deborah googled by the way and It was barely five hundred dollars. Still, it was good enough to get Ava from a tipsy drunk to a horny one. Deborah looks again at the hand on Ava's chin and wonders that if she glares at it long enough she'll drop it. So far it has yielded no result.
Eventually Monica needs something stronger and Kelly needs Monica and they both vanish into the house with a lame excuse of refilling their drinks that Deborah is sure is just dykecode for cunnilingus in the kitchen island. She takes the small moment of privacy to confront Ava.
Ava who is currently stretching her back against the edge of the tub. Flaunting her chest and her pink nipples all over her face. Deborah’s eyes get lost in it for half a second before she remembers she’s supposed to be mad. She tears her gaze away from the perky breasts to the perky smile on Ava’s face.
“What the hell is wrong with you?!” She hisses.
“What?” Ava smirks with a serenity that grates on her nerves.
Deborah scoffs. “What the hell was that with Monica?!”
“Dude, she’s the one coming onto me! I’m just going with the flow.” Ava shrugs, a cocky smile tugging at her lips still. The same lips that a few minutes earlier were being pushed around by Monica's thumb. The same lips that closed around the bottle with an eagerness so obscene that Monica herself had gasped. Deborah stares at them for so long she almost forgets Ava was saying something, only catching the tailend of it. “— Some people just can't help their sex appeal.”
Deborah tries to push away the weird thoughts flowing in her head, focusing instead on her accusatory attack on the writer. “How dare you cheat on me?!”
“C-Cheat— cheat on you?! We haven't even kissed!” Ava chokes on her gasp, then seems to remember the absurdity of the situation. “And i am not cheating on you, because we are not in a relationship! It’s a lie, which is your specialty!”
“Well, if you fuck that nympho trophy wife and Kelly finds out, i will never get that jumpsuit!”
“The jumpsu— Deborah they are obviously trying to fuck us!”
Ava is right. Logically Deborah can understand that Ava is right, but logic is not really at play at the moment. Because even though they’re not dating and even though Deborah is pretty sure Kelly and Monica are open to whatever or whoever comes, she still feels this intense feeling burning inside her chest. It’s similar to the way she felt when she first found out about her sister and her husband and their less than family friendly activities behind her back. She remembers the sinking pit in the bottom of her stomach and the sheer rage making her hands curl into fists. She also remembers punching her sister but she couldn't really do anything like that to Monica, there's too much hanging in line. So she chooses to redirect the conversation, for both her sake and Ava’s.
“Fuck you is more accurate.” Deborah mutters, arms crossing over her newly exposed chest.
It appears that in her fit of rage she has risen from her hideout in the water and has come closer to Ava. Ava whose eyes are wandering somewhere way more south of the border than it is acceptable for a normal conversation between friends. Though there's nothing normal about this conversation to begin with. They’re naked, for fucks sake! And Ava seems to be possessed by the spirit of a twelve year old boy who's never seen boobs before. But the question manages to catch at least some of her attention.
She looks up, gaze as dark as the ones she was giving Monica. “Are you jealous?”
“Of you? Please.” She mocks, trying to get the younger woman off the scent.
Ava’s stare changes from a cocky glare into something else, something cold and stumped. She scoffs. “Jesus, what is it then Deborah? You’re not the center of attention for one night and all of the sudden your ego collapses?”
Deborah blinks. “My ego? This is not about my ego!”
What's so difficult to understand? This might not be a real relationship but it is still upheld by Deborha’s real moral standards. None of which adhere to letting her girlfriend get railed by some cabbage headed skank with hobbies meant for middle aged, recently divorced dads.
How the fuck does one get into beekeeping anyway?
Whatever. None of that matters anyway and if Ava could read her mind she would probably tell her off for being misogynistic or whatever the hell fits into rightfully calling a vapid woman vapid.
“Then why the fuck—” Ava is about to ask something stupid when Deborah spots two naked figures emerging from the dinning room.
Deborah straightens up her back. “Shut up, they’re coming back.” She pinches Ava’s thigh and turns away. Once again retreating to her wet hideout. That sounds so gross. Deborah groans.
Kelly pulls Monica back before they fully exit the house and whispers something into her ear before they both quickly glance at them. Monica says something and they take a few steps back as if to hide the conversation.
Deborah forces her ear for something but nothing intelligible reaches. So she just uses her focus to avoid breathing in any of the water.
That is until she feels two hands pulling her up and pressing her against the wall of the tub.
Ava pushes her back and climbs into her lap in a smooth and certain motion. Deborah gasps, completely dumbfounded, one hand quickly jutting out to keep Ava’s cast from dipping in the water. She lets her eyes fall down and ends up accidentally catching a sight of a different place she has no business looking at. She lets go of Ava's cast immediately once she adjusts herself and Deborah has finally found her voice back.
“What the hell are you doing?!” She screams. Well, whispers, because Kelly fucking Kilpatric is right around the corner watching over them.
Ava laughs, suddenly and louder than necessary before bulging her eyes at her. “They're looking at us, dummy.” She mutters.
Deborah lets out a forced giggle too, smiling through the anger— and other overwhelming feelings she's experiencing right now. “I can see that. It still doesn't explain why you just mounted me like a dog in heat!” She hisses, louder than intended. Ava swats “playfully” at her shoulder, once again cackling but the movement itself is so heavy handed that Deborah groans a bit.
“Sorry.” Ava whispers apologetically, hands wrapping around her neck but maintaining the space between them. “Now keep your voice down. They're going to hear you.” She tilts her head and grits through a smile.
“Well, i sure hope they do because this is fucking insane!” Deborah hisses again.
Ava’s smile widens, more maniacal than before for no apparent reason. And sure Deborah has told her she should smile more often in the past but this is honestly terrifying. “Youre not gonna get the fucking outfit you want if they find out were not really together, babe.”
Realization hits Deborah like a truck. She peeks past Ava’s shoulder and catches the other couple engaging in deep conversation, every second glance turned to their direction. Maybe Ava has a point. Deborah should probably calm down and not blow up their spot but this night has officially gone from awkward nightmare to insane asylum in a moment's notice.
“You know, i don't even think I want it that badly.” She lies. Poorly.
Ava shoots her an unimpressed look. “Yes you do.”
Deborah folds under no real pressure. “Yes i do— fuck!”
Ava smirks. “Riiiight, so shut up and play along and just follow my lead.”
Overconfidence is not an attractive trait, Ava. But then again who cares if Ava is attractive to her or not?
Deborah Vance is a straight woman.
The phrase seems to echo in her mind. How many times has she said it already?
Deborah swears under her breath. “I can't believe this is happening.”
Ava rolls her eyes. “You should feel lucky. It's not often you get to have a killer woman like me in your lap.”
Deborah laughs, a real one this time. “Honey, I was a hot, tall, funny and rich woman in the 70s, everybody and their mother wanted to sit on my lap.”
What was it that Deborah herself has said about overconfidence? Whatever, she has earned the right to be overconfident because for most of her life she has been overlooked and underappreciated and she still came out on top. And besides the obvious affair-shaped elephant in the room and its heated repercussions, the 70s were good to her. It’s when she officially started to do standup— the real standup, out and about in the world, taking people's praise and insults to her face and not through some shitty magazine and flopped afternoon shows.
“Wow, so i’m not your first then…” Ava chuckles, and Deborah is almost sure she hears a little bitterness underneath it but maybe is just wishful thinking.
“Are you jealous?” She pokes, not knowing exactly what response she's looking for.
Ava laughs, a more real one this time around. “Hell no. Pop off, slut.” Well it was definitely not that one. Deborah rolls her eyes.
“I-I mean, who gives a fuck about labels and shit. The important thing is to find something and get off on it.” Ava jokingly gives a small roll of her hips. Deborah feels a sudden warmth take over her face. Ava might not be sitting on her exactly but the movement is still wildly uncouth.
She clears her throat. “I sure hope you're not referring to my thigh, because besides the highly inappropriate nature of our power dynamics—”
“So proud of you for saying that—”
Deborah waves Ava’s woke schtick off with a groan before continuing. “— you also apparently forgot how to shave.” She inadvertently gestures with her head to the place between their bodies.
Ava snorts. “I didn't forget. I just don't. I'm like… just bushing around the world, fighting the power…”
Who even thinks of stringing those words together in a sentence?!
“Christ.” This woman is going to be the death of her.
“You're one to talk.” Ava retorts and Deborah lets out an audible gasp.
“I'm a mature woman twice your age!” Deborah shrieks. The nerves on this girl.
And why is she looking around that area of Deborah's body to start with?
“its a Little bit more than tha—” Deborah pinches her hips, this time and Ava squirms and yelps “Ow, fuck, Deborah— okay!”
Subconsciously, Deborah comes to the conclusion that Ava must've been staring for the same reasons that she herself was a few seconds earlier. Only she's not sure what that was.
“You know, for a woman who calls herself straight, you're sure looking at my tits an awful lot.”
Insane Asylum has outright turned into a different dimension. One in which Deborah Vance was at the hands of a 29 year-old pea brained writer who was way too into dirty jokes and for a woman her age. Deborah has given up on trying to keep a significant amount of space between her and Ava, because no matter how hard the both of them tried it just seemed like Deborah's body had some kind of magnet pulling her in.
At first, Deborah thinks of not giving Ava the satisfaction of an answer or a quip or a joke, but the longer the time passes the more Deborah notices her own falling stare.
Like she said earlier, Ava is pretty. And Deborah is only human.
Deborah takes another quick look at Ava’s breasts and the way the cold air has made her nipples stiffen despite the hot water they were sitting at. She imagines how they feel, if they are as soft as the skin on Ava’s hips, if they'd taste like the strawberry body butter she had bought for her earlier this month. It's good to feel it's been put to use.
But enough of drooling over Ava’s skin, breasts and overall body. Deborah tears her eyes away from Ava's chest and clears her throat.
“Well, they are just right there in my face because you mounted me. Which makes them significantly hard to ignore.” That's a good enough excuse, right? She’s not exactly lying but it's not the whole truth either.
Really pretty…
And she’s looking at her the same way she looked at Monica, pupils blown into oblivion, cheeks dusted in that light shade of pink Deborah enjoyed so much. “Right… right…” Ava murmurs, eyes glued to her lips. “I’m gonna kiss you now.”
Deborah feels the world stop and her heartbeat on her throat. “What, why?!” It’s almost laughable how pathetic she sounds. She is not unseasoned with this type of stuff. Using her sexuality to get something she wants was always on the table for her if necessary. So why does she feel so nervous all of the sudden?
Maybe it’s the fact that she needs to put on a show. After all, having two other people watch as they get down with someone can put a lot of pressure on anyone. Or maybe it’s the fact that it's been a long time since she'd been with a woman. Yeah, it’s definitely that.
Forget the fact that she has been in a orgy more than once — the 80s were also good to her— forget the fact that she never got this hand-shaking, stomach hurdling, cheeks burning type of nervousness with any of the women she’s been with.
Ava pushes closer, swapping the spiral going on on her head for another one happening in real time. Deborah's breath hitches as she feels Ava’s nipples brushing against hers. She leans down and places a quick kiss on her jaw before pulling back. “Gotta keep up appearances, girl. We’ve kissed once throughout the entire day and Kelly and Monica have already fucked in the pantry like five times!”
Deborah gasps. “I knew they were taking too long!”
“Yeah, genius.” Ava says, exasperated. Then she sighs and tilts her head, eyes filled with something Deborah is too scared to read into. “Look, we can stop whenever you want but it doesn't change the fact that we gotta sell this right or they won’t buy it.”
Deborah’s eyes fall shut as she sighs. There’s no other way around it right? Of course, she could just choose another outfit but…
Fuck it.
“Okay.”
“Okay?!” Ava seems surprised and Deborah wonders if she’s made yet another poor decision.
“Yes!”
She comes closer and Deborah takes a deep shuddering breath. The kiss starts out soft and slow at first. Ava’s good hand cradles the side of her face and Deborah tastes the remnants of the liquor they had earlier on the slightly chapped skin of Ava's lips. She can’t help but wonder if the surely long sermon she'd have to endure later would be worth suggesting Ava put on some chapstick for a change.
It’s not too bad. Not bad at all actually. Fortunately— or not, Ava is a good kisser. An eager and attentive one. Deborah feels her injured hand pulling at the back of her neck, fingertips caressing through the wet strands on her nape. When did she take off the bag?
Deborah sighs and relaxes a bit. Enough to let her body make dumb decisions, like pulling Ava in by the waist and gasping into her mouth when she actually shifts forward. Of course Ava needs to act like the annoying little shit she is and escalate things. She licks into Deborah's mouth and deepens the kiss, pressing herself even further against her chest, stiff nipples now brushing against her collarbones. Deborahs's breath hitches as she holds tighter at her waist.
A really good kisser.
Ava squirms into the movement and Deborah is certain her aging brain is making her hear things, because she's almost sure a soft moan accompanies the tiny shifts of her hips.
Okay, they need to slow down. They need to draw a line somewhere before this turns into something they'd both regret later. Deborah pulls away for a second and her eyes immediately betray her.
The sight of Ava’s flushed chest comes into view and with it a weird sensation on the lower half of her body. Deborah shifts in her place and feels a sudden heat take over her face. She’s wet. From the hot tub obviously but also from a deep seated arousal that she hasn't felt in years, not even with Marty, or Nico or that random GILF hunter from a few years ago and he was a very good lay.
“D.” Ava whispers and Deborah finally looks at her face. “You're still staring.”
Deborah is sure her cheeks have reached a new shade of red but she plays it off by rolling her eyes.
“Not explaining myself again.” She practically huffs. Then the nickname finally registers “And don't call me D. What is wrong with you?” She pinches weakly at Ava’s thigh and the younger woman bites her lip, seemingly into it.
“Give me another kiss. You know, for appearances.”
Deborah has gone insane, she’s sure of it. Her request only fully registers when she sees the same giddy smile from before taking over Ava's lips.
“Alrighty.”
Ava is eager to do as Deborah told her for once in their life. She leans in and takes her mouth into a rushed and heated kiss. No time for formalities or slow kisses as she presses their lips together and essentially swallows Deborah into one of the hottest kisses of her life, tongue forcing its way in with a hunger that makes the both of them gasp. Deborah holds onto her waist, hands squeezing a little tighter with every shift of their bodies, and my God are they moving.
It almost seems like Ava is a little too into all of this.
Now, Deborah is not dumb. Ava’s preference for older women had been made fairly obvious from the get-go. But sometimes, in the middle of this kiss or when she catched Ava looking at her a little too long when she thought Deborah wasn't paying attention— Deborah dares to think there might be something else at play. Something more. A crush maybe.
Deborah's hands slide down to Ava’s lower back, pulling her even closer. Ava gasps and her bad arm juts out to seek balance on the edge of the hot tub. She hears a small ‘fuck’ breaking from her lips as she adjusts her position, shifting most of her weight to Deborah's left thigh, the shy back and forth of her hips becoming harder to ignore. Especially since the result of what can only be described as foreplay starts to rub against her skin. Deborah's breath hitches and she squeezes tighter. Lower. Which seems to only embolden the younger woman. This time Deborah's hands fly to her ass in reflex and Ava moans.
Honest to God moans, all soft, needy and high pitched right against Deborah's lips. Deborah has to bite back her own response to it, reminding herself that this is all pretend and that Ava is probably not as into this as it seems. And that neither is she! Deborah is almost thrice her age for fucks sake. Maybe in her prime she would've been interested, maybe Deborah herself would be curious but as of now Ava is intentionally putting on a show.
And what a show it is. Maybe she should be an actress instead of a writer, since lying comes so naturally to her. Maybe she's been acting their entire relationship, maybe she doesn't even think Deborah is funny and is just doing this for a quick cash grab.
No, no— stop. Ava is her… friend— Ava has been with her day in and day out and even after thousands of arguments and breakdowns she came back. She always comes back. Jesus, this whole thing is starting to mess with her head.
Deborah decides to finally draw a line and put a stop to this insanity. She tries to pull away but the young woman is still too into their fake makeout session to catch on to her fraying nerves. She chases Deborah’s lips, pressing herself further against her front as she grinds harder against her thigh, the water between them sloshing with every thrust. Deborah slaps weakly at her ass then squeezes and Ava pulls away, jaw dropped.
“Stop humping me.” Deborah hisses but there's not real heat to it, only an itch to watch Ava squirm as she realizes what she'd done. Ava's eyes widen and her cheeks turn into a dark shade of red, so deep she looks feverish.
She opens and closes her mouth then chokes on a cough and finally puts some distance between them. “M-My bad, i just… fuck, sorry— this is fucking with my head.” She whines and lets out an awkward laugh, one hand scratching nervously at the back of her neck. Deborah forgets her own embarrassment when she sees the writer struggling to explain away her behavior. Something about the alcohol— not that drinking is an excuse for creepy behavior— Ava makes sure to clarify amidst her excuses. Something about how the jet lag of their trip made her brain fuzzy, even though there's no difference in time zones between Vegas and California. It's really fun to watch.
And then Deborah says the most wild, unimaginable thing ever. “Catching feelings already? I haven't even fucked you yet.”
Nor does she plan to!
Deborah feels the need to remind herself. She shakes her head and takes her hands away from Ava’s body, worried that her newfound contact with the young woman has affected her ability to not put her foot in her mouth. Ava's eyes almost pop out of her face.
“W-Wait, what does that m— o-oh—”
Deborah's eyebrows join in worry before she realizes that the bubbles have stopped and that a pair of hands had taken her place on Ava's waist.
Monica emerges from behind the writer, a big mischievous smile on her face as she caresses Ava’s stomach. “Hi, lovebirds…”
Now, who the fuck told her she could just grab Ava— her supposed girlfriend— all willy nilly? Deborah feels a sudden anger taking over her but she forces a smile anyway.
“Hey, Monica…”
Monica laughs, not catching her discomfort. Is there anything going on in that brain?
“I’m so happy to watch you two cozy up in the corner but how about you give us some attention too?” She says, pressing kisses all over Ava’s neck and shoulders, one hand sneaking into her hair the other threatening to sneak its way lower.
“Oh, of course! Forgive our manners.”
Deborah grabs Ava’s waist and tugs her closer, successfully getting her away from the nympho’s hands. It works. For a second. Then she catches Monica's eyes darkening and her smile spreading into something unhinged. Deborah wonders what that's about.
“Hey, i’m not judging. If i had this pretty little thing in my hand i’d want her all for myself too.”
Blondie cradles her chin and squeezes before sitting at their side, a hand submerging into the water to caress Ava’s thigh. Deborah has to fight the urge to slap it away, choosing instead to rub the soft skin of Ava’s waist.
A few minutes later Kelly joins them at the hot tub, sitting besides her lecherous wife and her prying fingers. She leans over Monica, one hand reaching onto Deborah's knee then sneaking its way up and squeezing the soft skin of her inner thigh.
Jesus fucking Christ, its happening.
“Ava is such a good looking girl.”
You said that.
Deborah thinks, but chooses to stay silent. She watches as Monica eyefucks Ava much more openly this time. Ava has that lazy smile on her face, the same one that appears the morning after she spent the entire night fucking herself into sleep. Which Deborah only knows because the wall between their bedrooms is incredibly thin and because Ava is incapable of being discreet. She looks down and catches Monica’s hand reaching higher up on her thighs underneath the water, which now, without all the bubbles, shows details of their bodies in much more clarity. Deborah feels embarrassed about her own body for a second before she snaps back into jealousy.
“Thank you.” Ava whispers, all meek and wanting.
Kelly squeezes her thigh again. “And polite too. You're both so lucky to have each other.” Deborah gulps, forcing a smile again. Christ, she feels like a piece of topshelf wagyu in shark-infected waters.
“Mhm.” Ava hums, smiling at her.
The couple pulls their hands away, and Deborah feels like she can finally breathe again.
Kelly places a trail of kisses down Monica's arm, then pulls her into a quick kiss. Deborah averts her gaze as the sight of her frenemy’s naked body flashes in front of her eyes. Kelly playfully slaps Monica's ass and guides her to rest against between her legs. Monica lets head fall on her shoulder with a blissful sigh and the older woman puts an arm around her midriff and kisses the top of her head. Deborah's brain is briefly flooded by memories of her doing the exact same thing to Ava.
She looks at the young woman currently still sitting on her lap but who now watches the interaction of the other couple with sparkly, adoring eyes.
“So, in all the time you've been together… you never did anything like this?” Monica asks.
Much to her dismay Ava tries to answer this one but is quickly taken over by her own horniness. “L-Like, this—” She tries to speak, eyes almost jumping out of her face as she frantically gestures between them. “We, um— no, we— uh…”
“We're pretty closed off.” Deborah intervenes.
Monica seems to find the embarrassment adorable and chuckles. Deborah decides she too finds it endearing and shows it by letting her hands slide over to Ava’s lower back. The writer looks up at her, seemingly shy, eyes searching with such reverence that Deborah has to look away. Something unknown tugging at her chest.
“Hmm… got it.”
Monica's moaned response catches both of them off guard, they look towards the sound, finding that the couple had started to get even more comfortable around each other. Kelly’s hand sits in between her thighs, wrist slowly moving up and down as she kisses her neck.
Monica’s breath hitches. “But— oh… but you don't mind sharing. Do you, Debbie?”
Deborah does mind actually. She hates the idea and the nickname almost immediately, she historically has never been too fond of sharing— her clothes, her husband, the spotlight— but it's not like there are many other options here. If she cuts this thing short the next day would for sure be wrapped up earlier too and then she wouldn't get the jumpsuit, if she retracts the entire day and confesses that she wasn't actually into women she won't even get the chance to take a second look at the closet where it's kept.
Ava's cheeks and chest look like they're about to burst into flames at any second. She looks at Deborah, a nervous chuckle breaking through.
“I— I, um…” Deborah starts but Kelly cuts her off.
“Come on, we're all dykes here. It's fun to share a chick for once instead of our clothes and hatred for men.” She jokes, and Monica cackles like it's the funniest thing she's ever heard. No wonder Kelly’s shows are doing so bad, she has the most flavourless woman in the world giving her feedback. Deborah forces a laugh too.
“Well, technically im—” Ava starts. But Deborah cuts her off before she starts diving into her woke babble.
“You can have her. I don't mind.”
Hell, it's not the first time in Hollywood that someone had to resort to sexual favors in order to climb up in their career — granted, it's not her body nor Ava's career— but they do this together, it's a symbiotic relationship!
“Alright, then…” Kelly chuckles and Deborah rests on the edge of the tub as Ava is pulled toward the opposite side with the nympho trophy. Kelly takes Ava’s place beside her and Deborah feels like they're setting up for a show. Maybe they are.
She looks at Ava's eyes and once again finds them searching
Kelly leans back and gestures with her head giving blondie the go ahead. “Show her a good time, won't you, darling?"
Oh boy…
…..
Deborah thinks she’s doing well.
Mostly.
A little bit in the least.
She definitely feels some type of way having to watch her Ava get ravaged by Kelly’s fucking Killpratick’s wife but It’s not really awkwardness or shame that tugs at her emotions. Monica, she's finding out, is just as eager as Ava when it comes to kissing. It might be that insatiable spirit young people have, or maybe it's the fact that they're both addicted to sex, but either way watching the two of them go at it has been akin to watching two lionesses fight each other.
Monica has Ava essentially pinned by the legs, one hand locked between her hair and the other making sure that in her flailing she doesn't accidentally let her cast fall into the water. Deborah appreciates the thoughtfulness.
Ava moans into the kiss, sharp and breathless, pushing her chest up in her direction. Pink and stiff nipples begging for attention that Monica refuses to give for some reason.
“Can i touch myself?” Ava whines and squirms under Monica's hold.
Monica pauses her attack on her lips for a brief second only to check with Deborah. “Can she?”
Something about them asking her for permission makes her brain fuzzy and sends a direct jolt to her pussy. A heat takes over her face.
Deborah swallows dry. “Go ahead, honey.”
Ava gasps in relief. “Thank you, D.”
That little shit…
She lets her good hand drag over her own body. Fingers trailing down her sternum and grabbing a handful of one of her breasts, pointer and middle finger pinching at her nipple with every squeeze. A small satisfied hum leaves Ava’s lips and Deborah has to press her legs together.
Deborah sighs, relaxing and sinking further into the water, this time leaning back fully on the edge while her feet reach the women on the other side. This might not be such a bad idea after all… She gets to have her outfit without crossing any more lines with the writer and she would be lying if she said she wasn't at least curious to see where this would all end up. Deborah nudges Ava’s feet once, making her glance and smile at her in between kisses.
Then she peeks over her shoulder and finds Kelly watching her watch them. Fuck.
She flushes and looks away, completely embarrassed. Kelly leans in close. “Enjoying the show, Deb?” She whispers right against her ear, then nips slowly at her earlobe before making her way to the other side.
Kelly sits on Ava’s left while Monica keeps at her attack on her right and Deborah is left alone watching. As Ava's thighs are roughly pulled apart. As Kelly eagerly brushes her fingers through her legs, visibly bringing goosebumps to her skin. Deborah’s leg automatically shifts higher, foot tracing a beeline from Ava’s calf to her inner thigh. She bites her lip as the young woman trembles.
Despite what Ava had said earlier, she is not lazy, or a starfish or a pillow queen— or whatever the hell was wrongfully attributed to her. Deborah in fact takes great pleasure in making her partners come. But it's been hard to do anything other than stare in awe of Ava’s body and her willingness to whore herself out for her.
It's hardly her fault! She’s never been one for watching porn for example, but still, it's particularly difficult to look away when there's two older women ganging up on her brainless 29 year old writer. She looks at Ava's face, eyes rolled back, cheeks flushed and so, so whiney. Christ, she can’t just be normal, she needs to feel everything at 100 at all times.
“Touch me.” She begs to no one in particular, or so Deborah thinks. That is until she finally notices that Ava is looking directly at her. “Please, touch me…”
She begs again, hips bucking into nothing. When shakes her head no with a smirk, Ava groans and lets her head fall back on the deck. And that's when Debora realizes she is having a little too much fun for “pretend”.
Where’s that line again?
“Oh, honey it's not up to me! You know if it were, I'd do it. But… you're not kinda not mine at the moment.” She hopes this is a good enough excuse because in reality she had just realized the vastness of her shortcomings. Deborah has never been with a woman before and yet here she is having to entertain three. It makes her feel unprepared at the least and downright incapable at the most.
Ava doesn't seem to catch it though. She's too busy letting out all these moans and groans and whimpers, too busy putting on a show to actually pay attention to her. She jolts suddenly, only then does Deborah notice that Kelly’s hand has ridden up higher. “G-God, you— you're so fucking mean.” She groans, letting her head fall back, hips bucking into Kelly’s hand like they have a life of their own.
Deborah tilts her head, slightly amused. “Well, you seem to like it.” A smirk curls on the corner of her mouth.
Much to her dismay, Monica decides to join in their conversation. “She does seem to like it doesn't she?”
No one asked her, but the comment settles into Deborah's mind all the same.
Maybe Ava does like it when Deborah is mean to her.
Maybe there was a reason other than sheer stupidity, that she'd stayed by Deborah's side all these years. After all, the only thing stronger than blind loyalty was willful devotion.
Deborah's mind wanders around a creeping realization.
If that was true... if Ava did actually like her, then all of this had officially gone too far.
So what does it say about Deborah, that her first instinct isn't to stop, but to see just how much further they could go?
With newfound conviction, born certainly out of the need to piss her off, Ava pulls Kelly’s hand higher, moaning loudly when it seems to reach its target. Deborah dares to look down again and finds herself cursing at the water for making the image of Ava getting fucked so blurry.
It must feel good though. Because Ava’s mouth spreads into a wide, blissed smile. Teeth worrying her bottom lip so vigorously that Deborah is sure she sees droplets of blood form around the indentation.
Monica laughs— obviously, because everything is funny to her. But then she clicks her tongue in reprimand.
“Naughty girl.” She chastises, pulling Kelly away from the writer. Deborah is both glad and worried. If Ava’s horniness just cost her that jumpsuit she's gonna fucking lose it.
“Wait, no— I—” Ava whines pitifully. “I’m sorry. Was that not okay? I didn’t—”
Monica places a finger over her rambling mouth then urges her wife to do the same.
Ava rambling falls silent as she waits for the other shoe to drop but Kelly just chuckles like she’s used to the theatrics of her woman.
“Is there somebody you forgot to ask, darling?” Kelly gestures towards Deborah, who only now realizes she had to play an active part in this foursome. Deborah blinks rapidly, sitting up a little straighter.
Ava’s shoulders sag in relief.
The couple lowers their hands and the three of them turn their attention to her.
Right.
No pressure or anything.
Deborah clears her throat. “Well, sweetie?”
“I, um… I want— c-can they touch me?”
Deborah thinks of saying no but that would probably ruin all the fun.
“What’s the magic word?”
“Please, baby.” Ava begs.
There’s that word again. The one that has been messing with her head from the first moment Ava first asked for a kiss. It hits low in her stomach and spreads its warmth down her legs. Deborah swallows dry and nods slowly.
Monica and Kelly waste no time getting back to their activities. One burying her face on Ava's neck and the other busying herself with her breasts.
Ava looks at her through all of it, dark pupils blown with desire and mischief. Loudly enjoying herself, almost like she's daring Deborah to actually do something. Deborah's body leans towards the scene like a moth to a flame.
She wishes she hadn't had so much to drink. Alcohol never made her brave. It made her… volatile. Quick to anger, quick to shame and… other things. But the worst of all, it made her honest. Lending her a vulnerability that she so often fought to keep away.
She supposes the cat's out of the bag and that whatever interest she'd taken in Ava's interest in her, had become painfully obvious the moment she'd let the writer climb into her lap. There was no pretending otherwise now.
The only thing left to do was hold her ground and try not to sink any deeper into the waters she already stepped into.
So she watches. As Ava's pants turn into grunts, as Monica's kisses turn into blotchy red marks on the pale skin, as Kelly pulls her fingers out to taste the mess Ava left on them.
Deborah licks her own lips in reflex.
“Don’t stop.”
Monica pulls back slightly, admiring her own work before Kelly takes her hand and pulls it between Ava’s thigh too.
Ava’s eyes widen before they roll shut. “Oh, my g-god—” She stutters out. voice fading into a choked whimper.
The sound echoes in her head, hitting and vibrating at every corner of Deborah's brain, spreading across her entire body and sending a jolt straight to her pussy. The sensation is not unpleasant. She closes her eyes and sighs deeply, letting the sound of Ava's moans lure her into another type of drunkenness.
She presses her thighs together, the same way she used to when she was young and too shy to outwardly touch herself. It brings some relief. Briefly.
Because a moment later she’s brought out of her bubble again.
“What now, Deb?”
She hears Kelly ask. Then opens her eyes only to find Ava staring at her with an odd look on her face, as if she's piecing something together. Deborah narrows hers in response.
"Pull her hair. I bet she likes it." She blurts out, desperate to derail whatever conclusion Ava seemed to be drawing. Then, a second too late, she realizes how absurd it is to bet on something she should already know. They are dating afterall. “I–I mean she- she does like it. I do it all the time!”
Neither Monica or Kelly seem to catch on to her slip. Ava does tough and the only reason her signature idiotic grin of hers doesn't appear is because Monica rushes to try out the advice, a firm hand fitting through Ava’s hair and tugging.
Ava’s smirk turns into a loud gasp and her face flushes into a deep shade of red “Fuck—”
The couple smiles clearly satisfied in their finding.
Kelly picks up the movement of her fingers. The lazy back and forth of earlier turning into a more well defined pace that makes Ava’s eyes roll and her toes curl against Deborah's calf.
“Harder.” She grunts.
Monica and Kelly both look at her for approval like Deborah fucking owns the girl!
The thought almost makes her laugh.
As if Ava would ever just let her take the wheel of her life. She has tried before and it only brought heartbreak for the both of them.
Although, if she stopped to think about it Ava does live with her and works for her and has little to no friends outside of her. Deborah supposes that, in the end, their lives had become so thoroughly intertwined that there was hardly a difference.
She bites her lip and gestures positively.
They'll talk about Ava's codependency later, and this time she'll bring it up with more candor than the last one. No more drunken, bitter ramblings about how Ava needed to get a life. Deborah is her life and there's nothing wrong with that. She just needs to expand her horizons a little.
Ava deserves better.
Well, not better. There are few people better than Deborah Vance.
Better for her. Ava deserves friends her own age and a partner she could grow old with. Someone more her speed, who could keep up her pace and whose worldview and ambitions matched her in their own ways.
Someone who would simply cross the fucking hot tub and join in on the fun without having an existential crisis.
Deborah's spiraling thoughts are cut short by the sound of Ava's moans reaching her ears once again.
Ava is panting, face flushed, eyes squeezed together as she squirms between the two older women. Gasping and shakily begging for more under her breath.
Deborah can't take it any more. Watching as Ava's face contorts in pleasure without being the source of it is driving her insane. Yes, she'll analyse it later but right now has to stop this train of thought before she decides to do something incredibly stupid— or earnestly brave. Ruin their friendship, jeopardize their ability to work together. No, there are many reasons why Deborah can't just cross the distance.
“Ava, honey, why don't you turn around for me?” Deborah asks before she can fully think it through. Ava's eyes widen for a split second before she eagerly does as she's told, getting on her knees and bracing against the travertine decking around the tub.
Oh, God… this is so much worse than she could've predicted.
Ava is hot.
Ava is fucking hot and Deborah has spent the entire night being repeatedly smacked in the face with the fact that the same woman who had a ‘bra-bucket’ in her hotel room has the hidden potential to be an absolute smokeshow— despite her incomprehensible insistence on dressing up like a thirteen-year-old boy and his middle-aged dad at the same time.
But now...
Now Ava is naked— which has definitely happened before, but never like this. Never with her on her knees, visibly shaking and leaking with excitement, ass up and on her face, as she pratically begged her to fuck her.
So Deborah has a lot of confusing feelings.
Like the need to reach over and touch the milky expanse of her thighs, to trace all those pretty little moles that she worries so much about.
To spread her open and taste Ava’s arousal directly from the source. Deborah almost salivates at the thought.
But Monica beats her to it.
One hand caressing Ava's ass and the other cupping her pussy. Ava lurches forward with a shudder, knees buckling shut as she holds onto the edge.
“Spread your legs.” Monica tells her.
Holy fucking Christ, she definitely didn't think this through.
Ava parts her legs and Deborah’s breath hitches as she takes in the sight of her pussy, flushed and soaked, her swollen clit glistening against the lights of the hot tub and surprisingly more well groomed than Deborah expected. The bush proves that Ava's comment earlier was true but it's carefully trimmed while the rest of her body is shaved clean, which suggests Ava likes to take care of herself more than she lets on.
“Oh, my… do we get to see the great Deborah Vance in action?! Wanna give me some pointers?” Deborah’s mind didn't even connect her request to Ava's rant earlier in the evening, not until Kelly grabs her shoulders and playfully shakes her out of her trance. A flush takes over her face as she realizes just how deep the hole she dug herself into was.
Fucking Ava.
Why the fuck did she have to say she ate ass? Who says that for no reason? And who even does that anyway?
Deborah has a faint memory of a particular guy pegged once in the early 2000s. But she certainly didn't eat his ass.
She clears her throat, trying to ignore the way her cheeks heat up with embarrassment. “I, um… I guess I gotta see where we're at first.” She stammers desperate to get out of the situation, then gestures with her chin towards Monica. “Show us what you got, darling.”
Ava's head whips toward her. A hint of confusion then something that looks a lot like annoyance flashing over her face before it vanishes just as quick.
Weird.
Monica splays a hand on Ava’s ass before her fingers trail down her slit. Ava quivers, a sharp intake of breath followed by a muted groan. How sensitive.
Monica is not that far back in her arousal, she teases Ava's slit and moans like it is her own. Fingertips slowly making their way inside. All four women hold their breaths as they watch Monica bury her fingers deep into Ava’s pussy.
Ava pushes back against it.
“Oh… you want this really bad don't you, baby?” Monica coos.
Deborah halts momentarily, mind shifting from the myriad of obscene thoughts that just crossed her mind to the bitter taste the term of endearment leaves in her mouth. Why is she calling her baby? And why isn't Kelly complaining? And why the fuck is Ava— her supposed girlfriend, whimpering and nodding like a neddy little pet instead if correcting her?
Maybe it has something to do with the fact that Ava had been reduced into a shuddering, needy puddle under Monica's touch.
Monica hums and apparently decides she’s done with all the teasing because the next thing she does is readily place herself behind Ava's body and push her face into her cunt.
“Holy fuck—” Ava yelps, whole body moving forward and collapsing on the deck.
The air is taken over by breathy moans and a maddening slurping sound surely made by the swirl of Monica's tongue. A resounding slap echoes in the space. Monica lets her hand fall directly against Ava’s ass.
Deborah's own hand ends up finding its way between her thighs and she sighs as she presses two fingers over her clit.
Christ, if Ava could see her right now.
She’d laugh, surely, then call her out for being so turned on when she had spent the whole night insisting otherwise. But Deborah can't help but wonder what else she'd do.
Would she melt under her touch too? Moan as loudly as she is or ride her mouth as eagerly as she's riding Monica's?
Deborah wishes she had a better view of the scene so there wasn't quite so much left to her imagination.
She’s about to resign to her obscured view when Kelly seems to read her mind.
“Monica, darling, why don't you gals turn a bit so Deborah doesn't have to break her neck to see what's happening?”
Way to call her out. Deborah thinks.
Oddly enough, the shame barely registers this time. Instead, something dangerously close to relief slips through her veins when she doesn't have to ask for what she wants. There's still some plausible deniability left. She can still pretend she's just going with the motions instead of actively wanting to participate in the game.
Ava is the first to move at Kelly's suggestion. Deborah expects her to turn around and nothing more. But instead, she crosses the tub and closes the distance between them, sitting on her lap in one fluid motion.
Deborah sucks in a sharp breath and swallows hard.
Oh, my fucking God.
For one mortifying second, she forgets how to breathe.
Heat rushes to her face so fast she's certain it has to be a visible tint to it. Monica lets out a bright laugh, Kelly follows with one of her own, and between them Ava wears the unmistakable grin of someone who knows exactly what she's doing.
“Is this good enough of a view?” Ava says, practically batting her lashes at her.
Deborah bites back her reaction and settles for a stiff nod. Every bone in her body screaming to wipe the smug smirk off the writer's face.
Kelly is quick to reclaim her spot on Deborah's side and without a word she reaches and pulls her into a kiss.
Deborah gasps in surprise and she can vaguely make out Ava’s voice uttering a whispered “fuck” under her breath.
Kissing Kelly is different from kissing Ava. For starters, the older woman moves much more slowly than the writer did. There's no urgency in the way she takes control of the kiss, just the serenity of someone with years of experience on her back, someone who knows she doesn't need to rush to get what she wants because she already has it.
Maybe that's the thing that Deborah was missing, the confidence of realizing that all she ever wanted was right there on her lap.
Monica also wastes no time getting back to what she was doing and when she least expects it Ava is being bent over once again. Only this time Deborah can feel every little sound she makes against her neck.
Kelly pulls back and diverts her attention to the other side of her neck. Deborah's eyes fall shut, surprisingly into the action, skin prickling with every kiss and nip Kelly leaves on her skin.
She feels Ava pressing her forehead on her shoulder as a strangled noise leaves her lips. Before she can second guess herself Deborah threads her fingers into Ava’s hair, guiding the younger woman look her in the eyes.
Two can play at this game.
Ava leans in, her injured arm bracing her weight as the other rests on Deborah's chest. Nervous fingers drumming against her collarbones. She doesn't dare to move closer but Deborah can see it anyway, the want, the need, the effort she's putting into holding back.
Because as infuriating as Ava can be, she is still consistently careful in the ways that matter. She knows where the line is. And she’d never cross it if she thought it might make Deborah uncomfortable.
Maybe that's exactly what makes Deborah lean in too.
Their lips hover just out of reach, just waiting to see who'd give in first. But Deborah won't go without a fight and Ava is way too lost in pleasure to keep at the challenge.
She folds first. Melting under the heat of proximity and letting her head fall onto Deborah's shoulder with a whine, clearly frustrated about being denied. Deborah finds it amusing.
The new position is both a blessing and a curse. On one hand, she no longer has to rely on her imagination to fill in the gaps and on the other, it allows her to now see far more than she probably should. And there's no pretending she isn't looking when Ava’s face is just inches away.
Deborah’s pussy throbs at the sight of Monica's face buried between Ava's legs. She puts a hand on Ava’s hip, gently keeping her in place, guiding her to stay still even as Monica’s pink tongue presses over another entrance.
“O-Oh, fuck—” Ava pants. Deborah feels it against her skin. Monica’s hand meets Ava’s ass again harder this time. Deborah is mesmerized by how quickly the red print settles on the pale skin. She reaches down almost instinctively, fingers eagerly tracing around the print, wondering what it would feel like if it was her hand marked on Ava's ass instead of Monica's. She allows herself to squeeze a darker mark on the skin and Ava reacts immediately, a startled breath catching in her throat. When she looks up at Deborah, there’s genuine surprise written across her face.
Deborah thinks Ava looks unbearably kissable like this and without realizing it, finds herself leaning in to close the distance.
Fortunately— or not— Kelly decides to make herself known again and wordlessly grabs the back of Monica's neck and draws her away into a lingering kiss, leaving a red faced, and sexually edged Ava sandwiched between them.
Kelly breaks the kiss short only to guide her wife to kiss Deborah instead. And just like she predicted, Monica is every bit as eager as Ava is. Perhaps even more so. Where Ava always seems to know exactly how far to push before stopping, Monica throws herself into the moment with complete abandon.
The kiss is hurried, clumsy, and a little sloppy. All enthusiasm and lust. Under any other circumstances, the lack of grace might have been embarrassing but right now, it feels strangely welcomed. She tries really hard not to think about a particular taste on the tip of her tongue. Acutely aware that the lingering slick slathered all over Monica’s chin belongs to the airheaded woman she shares a life with. Ava tastes so fucking good it makes her genuinely dizzy.
Deborah is enjoying herself way too much when she suddenly feels Ava shift between them. Once again the slick result of their activities brushing against her thigh. Only this time there's little that Deborah can or wants to do to stop it.
So she simply lets her, maybe even raises her knee a bit to help with the pressure. Who knows…
Ava moans loudly, clearly overjoyed. A small snicker leaves Deborah's lips before she can stop it. They both pull back to look at the younger woman who was now fully grinding against her leg. Hips moving back and forth with little to no care about who's watching.
The important thing is to find something and get off on it.
Deborah finds out that Ava is remarkably good at following her own advice.
Kelly growls, Monica laughs, and Deborah can't help seizing the opportunity poke fun at her for it. “Having fun, sweetie?” She mocks but Ava is so out of it she doesn't even answer, just mumbles something incoherently.
Monica clicks her tongue in mock annoyance and promptly stops the movement of her hips by tugging roughly at the ginger hair. “Bad, bad girl…”
Before Ava can even think of complaining, Monica presses her hand over her mouth and silences her. Ava breathes in sharply and Deborah's own breath hitches at the sight. She tightens her grip on Ava’s hips, caught between urging her to keep going and waiting to see what Monica will do next.
Sadly, her next move is to pull Ava almost completely away from her. Monica forces a squirming and breathless Ava to lean against her front, one hand sliding down to wrap firmly around her neck as the other grabs roughly at her pussy. “Did she tell you to hump her?” She asks, gesturing to her direction.
Ava shyly shakes her head.
“Then why’d you do it?”
“I don't kn— I—”Ava falters, grinding her pussy against Monica's hand like she just can't help herself. “I want to cum.” She sounds at the verge of tears, batting those big doe eyes at Deborah to gain some sympathy.
It grates on her nerves that it works.
“Monica, it’s oka—” Deborah starts.
"Nuh-uh." Monica cuts her off. "I think..." Her gaze drifts to the hand resting around Ava's throat, the corner of her mouth curling into a sadistic smile. "I think you need to learn how to follow instructions."
Ha! Good luck with that.
Her thumb tilts Ava's chin up just enough to look her in the eyes. Ava meets her with a defiant smirk. “You’re gonna teach me a lesson?”
"I should..." Monica murmurs, eyes black with desire. "You know, you'd look so pretty with a leash around your neck, wouldn't she, baby?" The question hangs in the air. Deborah follows Monica's gaze and only then remembers Kelly is sitting right beside her.
“Oh, absolutely.” Kelly says. “Should we get the paddle too?”
Monica sighs, dramatically. “Ugh, it's all the way back in the dungeon. It'll take too long.”
Ava looks back at her, eyes begging for something— anything, remotely close to the stimulation she was getting before. So Monica gives it to her.
She groans and starts playing with Ava’s pussy. Two fingers slowly dragging up and down her folds, circling and teasing her slit before she unceremoniously shoves them in. Ava cries out, jerking uncontrollably with the abrupt invasion, both hands flying to grab at anything that could hold her up. One clinging to Monica’s arm and the other sneaking its way down to rub her own clit.
She growls,half animalistic, teeth biting hard into her lower lip, eyes rolling shut.
Deborah feels the sound somewhere deep inside her stomach.
"The, um... the dungeon?" She echoes automatically, no real curiosity behind the question. Just a need to fill in the silence while she watched, transfixed, as the increasing back and forth of Monica's wrist drew the louder sounds from Ava's body.
“Oh, that's just what we call the secret part of the closet where we keep the fun stuff.” Kelly swats playfully at her shoulder. Deborah nods, brain still wrapping around the scene unfolding in front of her.
But then she remembers— the jumpsuit!
“Oh, the closet?!”
She asks with a little too much enthusiasm. Tone it down…
“I mean, on the closet— really? I didn't even notice—”
“I wanna cum!”
Ava’s desperate moan cuts her off short. Deborah glares. It's second nature to be annoyed at Ava’s rambling but a part of her feels bad for the poor girl. Monica and Kelly have been teasing her all night and Deborah… Deborah is too much of a coward to finish the job.
The least she can do is finish what got them into this mess in the first place.
"So, um…" Deborah tried to think of a good enough excuse. "Is that where you keep your vintage collection? Marilyn's dress? Carol Burnett's jumpsuit..."
She trails off, hoping Kelly takes the bait.
“More like the occasional handcuff… Or whip. O-Or… fuck… the swing.” Monica's voice responds first. Hurried and breathless as she keeps on fucking Ava.
“The real fun stuff!” Kelly concludes.
Deborah nods in agreement, her focus shifting between talking with the woman beside and watching the one in front of her essentially riding Monica's fingers to completion. Breasts bouncing up and down with every move, thighs shaking with the effort.
“Kim Kardashian beat me to the first one, unfortunately. But Carol’s? That one is mine.”
Kelly comments and Deborah digs her nails into her palms and forces herself to focus. She fights the smile growing on her lips. It's working!
“No kidding? I didn't even know that was in private hands!” She says, hoping Kelly’s memory is as bad as her taste in suits. “I’d love to—” She’s about to wrap her perfectly curated bait into a neat little bow when Ava decides to ruin it again.
“I’m gonna come!”
She sobs, desperate in a way Deborah has only heard a few times before. Usually when Ava was begging her to see things from her side, or that one time Deborah accidentally walked in on a moment very similar to this one.
“Not yet.” Not when she was this close to getting what she wanted.
The hope drains from Ava's face. “What the— why?!”
She rolls her eyes. “No talking back either.”
“But—”
Deborah flicks a dismissive hand before Ava can get another word out. “Monica, be a doll and shut her up, please?”
The woman snorts. “Oof… someone pissed off Mommy.”
“Jesus fucking Christ—”
Deborah barrels over the rest before Kelly can move on to another topic. “I didn't even notice it! I was so distracted by your beautiful collection. That Carol Burnett jumpsuit for instance—”
Kelly brightens immediately.
“Yeah, well, it's a little kinky so we don't usually take first timers there.” She glances between Deborah and Ava. “But it seems like this is building up to a second fun time!”
“Right, right! Of course….”
Deborah smiles.
What the fuck is she walking into?
Deborah eyes the sparkly purple dildo from a distance, swaying side to side as it hangs from Monica's hips.
Ava’s orgasm was cut short from the moment the idea popped in the couple's mind. Turns out talking about sex toys makes you want to use them.
At first, she will admit, she was shocked that it was Monica and not Kelly ‘wearing the pants’ in their relationship. But her confusion and the dumbfounded face that certainly came with it faded away when she caught sight of Ava’s silent request for her to shut the fuck up.
Now the dildo was the focal point of her daze.
It's… big. Long and with a bit more girth than she was used to, which is not really an issue as it was not meant for her, but was Ava used to these types of… toys?
Deborah glances at the younger woman, who is watching transfixed as the appendage now dangles close to her face. She certainly looks comfortable with it.
Monica slides closer to her wife. Leaning down to place a quick kiss against her lips. Kelly pats her ass twice before checking the harness.
“Comfortable?” She asks, and Monica nods quickly.
“Is your knee okay?” Monica checks too. Kelly nods and rubs their noses together.
It's…cute.
And this time Deborah might actually mean it. Granted, it's a little too mushy for her liking but she can’t deny that she has started to see the appeal of the couple. They’re obsessed with each other and they're not afraid to show it.
Deborah thinks that the night could end right there, each couple with their respective spouses and no other bases to reach with Ava.
But Monica, Kelly and the oversized toy they picked for them clearly had other plans since the moment they arrived.
Monica gestures for Ava to sit on the edge of the tub beside her and Deborah can see the visible quiver of her thighs as she spreads them apart.
She crawls between Ava's legs, trailing agonisingly slow kisses, down her chest, nipping and biting and sucking on each nipple before heading down lower on her stomach, then moving the torture to her inner thighs, where she paints multiple red marks and bites. Ava squirms in place, hand fisting onto Monica's hair to pull her closer.
“Please.” She breathes out. “Please I… I can't wait anymore…”
Monica glances up at her, a condescending smile playing on her lips, batting her eyes at Ava before pressing a flat tongue against her slit.
“Holy shit…” The young woman takes in a sharp breath, letting her body fall back on the deck with a loud thud. She plants her feet against the edge, toes curling as her hips roll against Monica's mouth. “Oh my god— oh, my— g-god— fuck, fuck, fuck…”
Deborah is almost sure it's a religious experience for Ava.
Her hand moves with a mind of its own as it reaches Ava's thigh, pulls it apart and presses it wide open against the ground. Monica plays with Ava’s slit, pumping her fingers three knuckles deep before completely pulling out, only to do it all over again.
Ava’s eyes widen and Deborah's breath hitches as she gets a better view of her pussy.
She clumsily tries to cover herself but it's too late. Deborah has already seen Monica’s pink tongue push itself between the flushed, swollen folds. Deborah has already watched how Monica's lips wrapped around Ava’s clit and sucked so hard the writer's eyes rolled shut.
Ava tries to clamp her thighs together.
She’s vaguely aware of Kelly pulling the other thigh open too, helping her in the effort of holding them down.
Ava groans in frustration and throws an arm over her face in an apparent crescendo of sensations. Her movements become more erratic, ass lifting off the ground, thighs start to tremble, gasping for air like she was choking on ecstasy. Even struggling to focus the movements of her hips on languid circles and instead settling to pushing her cunt against Monica's mouth without any particular pace or rhythm.
“I’m coming!” She sobs. Real tears rolling down her temples. Cheeks and chest burning hot with arousal, Deborah can feel it under her fingertips, in the sheen layer of sweat clinging to Ava’s quivering thighs. She bites back a moan and sinks her nails onto the flesh as Ava breaks into an earth shattering orgasm. Body jerking violently as it crashes through her.
Monica doesn't stop though.
Not when Ava's legs finally managed to win against Deborah and Kelly's hold, not when Ava slapped her mouth shut and almost knocked herself out with her cast. Not when it seemed like pleasure had started to shift into pain.
Ava, for her part, doesn't ask her to either. Surprisingly silent and docile at this moment. Tiny whimpers and mewls escaping her lips but not a single objection coming out of them.
Deborah wonders if all it takes to get Ava to listen is to fuck the brattiness out of her like this.
It certainly brings up interesting questions.
Maybe Ava should get laid more often. Maybe it's sexual frustration that makes the young woman so contrarian.
Maybe Deborah should be paying someone to fuck her before their meetings. And maybe— for purposes of streamlining efficiency, she could even be the one to do it herself!
For the first time this night she doesn't immediately brush off the thought. Choosing instead to find relief at it. A hand sinks beneath the water to press between her own legs. She’s so fucking wet, it’s embarassing.
Deborah lets herself wonder how the other woman would behave in a different setting than this.
She pictures Ava naked in her office, bent over her desk as they go over some of their material. Ava, whimpering and moaning, with no real objections to some of her more distasteful jokes. Head empty, stuffed full around her fingers and agreeing with everything she has to say.
Of course she was well aware that the bickering and arguments made the material better in the end. It made her better too. But still, Deborah couldn't help craving the version of a compliant Ava compromising every boundary, just to stay by her side.
That’s lowkey toxic. Ava would say.
It’s probably true but Deborah lets her mind wander anyway. She rests against the edge of the tub, eyes fluttering shut while she presses slow circles onto her clit. Just to take the edge off.
Ava’s lips clamped around her nipples. Ava’s freakishly big hands taking over for her and reaching places she could only faintly remember how to reach. Ava's pussy clenching around her cock and not Monica’s—
She bites back a groan. What the actual fuck is she thinking?
Then the water sloshes around her body and her eyes find the couple switching positions.
Kelly takes Monica's place eating Ava out and Monica stands tall above the three of them.
Deborah has to almost physically keep her jaw from hitting the ground when she watches Ava promptly sit up and reach for the toy. She looks up at Monica then back at Deborah and swallows, a nervous smile playing on her lips.
“Guess I, um… gotta fulfill my part of the social contract, amirite?”
Ava gives them a playful wink though the tool of their activities weighs on her voice. Deborah takes a long look at her flushed face and disheveled hair and decides she has never looked more beautiful. Ava wets her lips, eyeing the appendage with hunger. Monica pulls her in by a loose ponytail, briefly slapping the cock against her cheek before pushing it inside her mouth.
Ava opens her jaw into what is clearly a familiar stretch, barely batting an eye at the invasion. Deborah's fingers move deeper down on her own slit, digits hovering over the entrance but not daring to slip all the way in.
Monica moans, fingers running through the ginger hair. “There you go, Show us what that pretty mouth of yours can do.”
The toy is pushed further in about a second later. Ava inhales sharply, but welcomes it with a muted squeal.
Kelly seems to be doing well on her end too. Ava jerks and twitches, hands struggling between finding balance and guiding Kelly’s head, a dozen of high pitched moans dying around the cock. Deborah looks down and catches the older woman working a third digit in.
“Think you take one more finger, dear?” Kelly asks.
Ava's breathing halts for a second and then comes a pitiful gasp around the rubber toy.
Kelly seems to have answered her own question. Deborah watches wide-eyed as Ava pushes into the stretch. Once all three fingers fit tightly into her cunt, Kelly dives in to give some attention to the stiff bundle of nerves begging to be touched.
Ava cries out. Loud even with the toy mostly muffling it. Deborah sees the way Monica sinks her nails onto Ava’s scalp, the way her eyes roll shut and hips stutter when the writer takes more and more of her in. Deborah watches and wonders how having a fake cock sucked can possibly feel that good. Her curiosity is quickly sated when she catches sight of Ava’s good hand working between Monica’s legs. Well, that makes more sense.
The young woman traces her fingertips slowly through her slit. Blondie moans and pulls her head closer. Ava’s hand moves faster when that happens, seemingly emboldened by the action. The one with the cast weaves between Kelly’s grey hair, pulling her closer.
Deborah can't help but feel some type of way just hearing and watching the trio go at it but never feeling it. Never touching Ava’s breasts or yanking her closer, never feeling and tasting her directly from the source.
Not that she wants to do that. She’s feeling left out is what she’s saying!
Monica’s hips twitch particularly harder and she ends up pushing the toy further down Ava’s throat, so deep her nose grazes against her abdomen.
The action seems to push both women over the edge.
The writer collapses on the deck again. Eyes squeezing shut, gasping loudly once her mouth is empty. A string of drool pools around her lips as she keens and shudders but she doesn't even bother to wipe it clean. Positively fucked out of her manners.
Monica cries out too, just barely catching herself before crumbling right on top of her.
Kelly, unlike her wife, stops as soon as Ava pushes her head away. The young woman breathes and blinks quickly. Head lolling side to side as her gaze switches between staring away at the sky and staring at the woman above her like she’s trying to find her bearings.
“That was… fucking amazing.”
Deborah is too caught up on watching Ava attempt to find her footing to notice Kelly’s hand approaching her lips.
Three completely soaked fingers push their way inside without much resistance, offering her a deeper taste of her girlfriend's arousal. Deborah sighs, letting her eyes fall shut as she takes them deeper. She’s vaguely aware of a particular moan echoing in the air when she does so.
“Oh, my god.”
Deborah opens her eyes and glances down on what she’s doing, only then realizing how she pinned Kelly's hand in place. She lets go eventually but almost absentmindedly laps at the fingers one last time before pulling back.
There's this tense moment of silence where they just stare at each other. Ava's breathing even more labored than before, chest moving up and down so hard Deborah is briefly worried she's having another asma attack.
“I need you…” She breathes out. Deborah gulps momentarily taken aback by how real it seems. Ava sounds… well, horny. But she also sounds honest.
Her stomach flutters.
This isn't what they agreed to. They weren't supposed to enjoy it. Or better said, Ava wasn't supposed to be actually into it. This is solely for business. Work is work and pleasure is pleasure and there’s very few instances where the two overlap. Like with comedy!
Deborah watches as Monica finally steps between Ava's thighs again, eager to move forward with the toy fixed on her hips.
“Ready for me, baby?” She purrs.
Again, Deborah does not like it when she uses that word.
The girl barely has time to breathe, let alone answer before Monica buries her cock in one quick, fluid motion.
“Holy fu— okay—” Ava chokes on a gasp and Deborah swallows dry. Even Kelly chokes on a cough as they watch the toy slide easily inside the writer.
The last few inches are a bit girthier than the rest of its length and Ava’s eyebrows furrow in mild discomfort. She squeezes her eyes shut, head shaking slightly, hand blindly reaching for hers once again and this time Deborah takes it. Welcoming the butterflies it brings to her stomach.
She finds herself mindlessly reaching for Kelly’s hand too and guiding it to join in the efforts of her wife. A small and frankly pathetic attempt of holding up the last barrier of intimacy between them. She places her hand over Kelly’s, fingertips guiding her to rub gently at the stiff bundle of nerves between Ava's thighs. Kelly strokes her with Deborah's touch or maybe Deborah fucks her with Kelly’s hand, it's hard to tell which is which. All Deborah can think about is how crazed the young woman looks, stuck between shuddering every time she cranes her neck to watch and letting her head fall back in pleasure.
The slow rolls of Monica's hips finally manage to bury the toy to the hilt.
“That’s it… there you go. Good girl, Ava.” She coos.
Deborah can actually feel the effect the praise has on the writer. Ava's mouth falls open as she squeezes her hand and moans. Interesting….
It's wild how one tiny action can change the world on its axis. In a blink of an eye and after some overextended foreplay, a night that was supposed to end with a new outfit and nothing more than some heavy petting turned into something Deborah is not even sure how to bring up later. Not now that she’s acutely aware of how Ava sounds when she’s about to come.
“Shit, shit, shit f-fuuuuck—”
Which seems to be happening soon.
Ava gasps and splutters, the slow movements shift into an unforgiving pace. Tenderness giving way to a rough back and forth that barely allows her to take a full breath. She grabs Deborah's arm as if her life depended on it, but Deborah wants more. More pleasure, more contact, more of Ava's body rubbing against hers. So she briefly tries to pull her hand away just so she could climb onto the deck alongside them.
Ava sobs and flails, desperate to keep the contact.
“No, please— d-don't leave me, please don't leave me— please—" She grabs with both hands now, nails sinking into her skin with a force that makes Deborah hiss. She ignores the sting and manages to guide the arm with a cast to rest on Ava's side while carefully climbing the edge of the tub and lying down to do the same.
“It's okay. It's okay, honey. I'm right here.”
Deborah coos. She nuzzles her neck, placing a chaste kiss on her pulse point then shyly nipping at it.
Just to sell things right.
Ava opens herself for more, so Deborah licks a stripe from her collarbones to the spot behind her ear. Ava wraps her legs around Monica’s waist and pulls.
Monica catches herself against the floor with a surprised chuckle. “Alright then.” She murmurs, a sly smile playing on her lips as her hands push Ava's knees against her own shoulders as she bottomed out on the writer.
Deborah pulls back slightly, jaw dropping at how easily Monica practically folded her in half.
Who knew Ava could be so flexible?
She tries to remove the hand that was guiding Kelly’s from the tightly packed sandwich the newfound position formed around it but it has no use other than to deepen the pressure she was already applying.
Ava's body moves with each thrust, half lidded eyes fighting to stay open but failing when the toy seems to hit the spot, nails digging into Deborah's arm and Monica's shoulder as her tits boune up and down. Not many sounds coming out other lips other than gasps, seemingly fucked into quietness. There's a sheen layer of sweat clinging to her skin that tastes salty against Deborah's tongue and Monica’s abdomen meets the back of her hand with a force that was sure to leave a bruise later.
Ava’s legs start shaking wildly as the orgasm builds up yet again. Her mouth curls into a pitiful pout that Deborah now recognizes as the point of no return. She feels the need to bite off her face.
She can't help it. Her free hand tangles between the ginger locks and pulls as if with a will of its own. Ava goes for the kiss but Deborah keeps her in rein by the hair like it's a leash and Ava is her brand new pet in need of a stern training.
Boundaries. Boundaries. Lines… something…
Her mind hammers inside her skull but her body… her body follows. What’s the worst that could happen?
Now her third mistake of the night was thinking that giving into a kiss would not be that big of a deal. It could be true if it was a normal kiss, or if Ava was a normal girl. But as Deborah inches closer she realizes that there was nothing casual about the short bursts of air hitting her face. There's more than enough baggage in the way Ava looks at her, hope brimming out of her eyes almost as much as pleasure.
Deborah gives into the not so friendly feelings simmering inside her chest and savours the tiny little mewls coming out of Ava's lips. They hover there for a second, suspended between hesitation and inevitability, before finally connecting.
It's the single worst and best mistake she has made in a while.
Ava licks into her mouth without ceremony and moans so pathetically, it pains her. Deborah sucks on her tongue and moans too. The kiss is all tongue, teeth and noises. It's like they're trying to eat each other alive.
The hand on Monica’s shoulder leaves its spot to tangles itself between her hair, trying to pull Deborah impossibly closer.
“G-Gonna… c-come, gonna c—” She sobs into her mouth.
The orgasm hits a second after.
"Ah— shit—" Ava squeezes her eyes shut and comes with a cry, her whole body contracting and curling in on itself, nails sinking into the back of Deborah's neck, pressing crescent moons on her arm. Her thighs snap shut around Deborah and Kelly’s hands, hips lifting off and away from Monica's cock. She feels a sudden gush of wetness hit her fingertips as Ava sobs loudly. Deborah gasps into her mouth as Ava's exciment coats her entiere hand.
Its so messy. And wet. And so fucking good.
The whole thing seems to go on for hours before she eventually falls back on the ground exhausted. Monica gives her a few more lazy thrusts, before pulling out and crawling onto her wife's lap.
Deborah finally takes a look at her hand and her mouth waters at the sight of how soaked it is.
She licks her lips in reflex. Fighting the urge to taste it.
Two fingers trail up Ava’s body. Caressing her abdomen, sternum and neck, painting wet shiny streaks against the pale skin before cupping her face and giving her a chaste kiss. Then she pulls back just enough to push her fingers through the rosy lips and give Ava a taste of herself. Ava closes her mouth around them and sucks them clean much like she did with the strap.
For a moment no one else exists around them. It's just her and Ava, Ava and her suspended in space. Kissing and licking the mess she left on her fingers. Deborah looks at her, taking in the flushed face and tousled hair. Eyes closed, brows furrowed, a blissed out smile formed around her fingetips like she’s still riding the high.
I could do this all day. She thinks. Wishes.
Deborah grabs Ava's jaw and licks the slick around her lips.
And then a hand that clearly does not belong to the woman currently on cloud 9 reaches for her. Deborah looks up and is immediately brought into a kiss.
Monica bites her lip hard and Deborah gasps. Barely realizing she's being pushed onto her back, and only noticing it when a cold sensation spreads over her shoulder blades. Deborah holds her hips, not sure if to push her away or pull closer. Her mind is honestly not functioning at this moment. Monica chuckles and grabs her wrists, gently pinning them above her head.
“Relax, it's your turn now, Debbie.”
Oh shit.
Deborah gulps.
The kisses trail down her neck and chest and suddenly Deborah is back to the nervous mess she'd been minutes ago. Or was it hours? It’s impossible to know at this point! Lesbians, she has come to find out, are insatiable in bed.
That might be why Ava enjoys sleeping so much. Still, Deborah will make sure to keep insisting that she gets her iron levels checked.
Her mind jumps from topic to topic in an attempt to distract herself but the kisses don't stop. If anything, they trail lower. Deborah's mind supplies the mortifying realization that this might actually be going somewhere. She looks over at Ava and finds her watching transfixed. There's a hint of sadness to her eyes even though desire occupies most of it. Ava's eyes catch hers and Deborah signals.
Help.
She’s sure it's written all over her face. At least for someone who knows her as well as Ava does.
Deborah might even become accustomed to the idea of liking women— well, one woman specifically, and that would already be way too much to deal with— but she's certainly not sexually liberated enough to have her first full on lesbian experience to be with her not-quite-archnemesis wife.
“A-Ava.” She stutters.
The young woman is up in a second. All the tiredness and overwhelming post orgasmic daze suddenly vanishes away from her body when she hears the genuine fear in her voice.
Without an ounce of hesitation Ava crawls closer to her on wobbly knees. She places a quick kiss onto Monica's lips before pulling her away from Deborah. “You know, Milady here is very particular about the stuff she likes.” She gestures. “So I think it's better if I take over. Also I'd be pretty sad if I didn't get to make her come first.”
Monica chuckles, though there's a hint of disappointment behind it. “Bummer.”
Ava gives her a white smile.
Monica goes back to her wife and sits between her legs. “But it's fine… I like watching too.”
Shit.
Ava quickly places herself in Monica’s place, climbing onto Deborah’s lap, hands resting against her abdomen.
And they both freeze not knowing how to follow.
They really didn't think this through. Ava blinks, head empty and Deborah looks everywhere except at her supposed girlfriend. It probably looks weird as fuck on the outside. She can hear Monica and Kelly making out on their side but Deborah is sure she can feel their eyes hovering and waiting too.
A foot nudges the side of Ava's body and snaps the writer out of her spiral.
“Didnt you say you were going to take care of your lady?” Monica taunts. Ava's cheeks turn into a deep shade of red.
“Y-Yeah— sure i, um i was just… just…” She stutters.
“I can give you a hand if you're too tired—”
Deborah squeezes Ava's waist.
“No!” She yells. Monica tilts her head, a little thrown off. “I mean, nope, I'm okay— i can do it. We’re just you know… it’s foreplay. Feels better when you wait right?”
The couple goes back to making out while muttering a small yes and with that Ava wipes the sweat off her hands on her thighs.
She leans down closer to Deborah. She places a small kiss on her cheek, then jaw, then the place just behind her ear. The tiny puff of air of Ava's breathing brings goosebumps to her skin. Deborah twitches underneath the wirter.
Then this weird thing happens. Ava cups her face in with her free hand. Deborah puts her own over it, mindlessly brushing against the cast. She stares at Deborah in what can only be described as… pure worship. A flutter ripples through her stomach. Ava blinks slowly and leans slightly rubbing their noses together before leaning in to whisper in her ear
.
“I got you.” She whispers.
All the tension melts away from her muscles and turns into something hot and molten on her lower stomach.
Ava puts most of her weight on her injured arm— which can’t be good for recovery— and sneaks her good hand between their bodies. She sucks and bites hickeys on her throat, licks a stripe on her sternum, and sucks softly at her breasts. All played out as more intense than it actually is. Ava fakes her touches, her moans, the small heaves of excitement whenever she touches more and more of Deborah’s body. The only problem is that Deborah melts into a soft butter when she feels the warm hand against her skin. It feels so good and Ava hasn't even done anything.
And she won't! This is all pretend.
She makes sure to remind her of it with a sharp tug of hair and a sink of nails when she feels a wet tongue near her belly button. Ava grunts and pushes her face right in between her legs. Deborah squeezes her thighs together, essentially smushing the sides of Ava's head.
“Feisty.” Kelly chuckles somewhere around them but she's way too busy looking down to notice where.
Ava throws an arm over her lower belly, obstructing most of the view from the curious couple and dives in. Her lips make contact with her right thigh first, then left then a bit higher on both of them before stopping completely. Deborah lets out a sigh of relief and her eyes fall shut while brushing the ginger hair. Ava moans and grunts and fucking slurps, making all types of noises to sell the fantasy.
Like she said Ava can be an amazing actress when she wants to.
“That’s it, sweetie. Right there.” She praises, making sure to give the words an airy tone to them but not too desperate. Deborah Vance does not beg.
They keep at their theatrics for a while. When Ava moans she moans and when Ava groans she grunts alongside her. And there are the times Deborah genuinely whimpers on accident.
She’s only human.
A few minutes have passed when Ava looks up at her again. Deborah brushes the hair away from her face, catching sight of her flushed cheeks and green eyes almost completely hidden behind her blown out pupils. She squeezes her hips, signaling that enough time has passed and it was socially okay to come during a lesbian fourway. Afterall there’s levels to all of this.
Deborah throws her head back with a soft moan and a shy roll of her hips. Ava squeezes harder.
Deborah looks down and Ava is looking at her like she was just personally offended. She rolls her eyes. She’s not gonna put on a show just because Ava wants Monica to know she gives good head.
But of course there’s no easy way out with the writer.
Ava pulls back panting and licking her lips. She climbs Deborah’s body once again, sitting on her right thigh while keeping a hand between their bodies.
An evil smile forms on her lips. “Someone's shy again…”
Fuck you, Ava.
Deborah forces a moaned chuckle. “I’m okay, sweetie.”
Ava rises to the challenge. “Oh, but you’re usually so vocal when i fuck you.” Deborah looks to the side and finds Monica and Kelly watching them with a smile. Ava looks at them too. “Josefina usually wears noise canceling earbuds around the house because of this one.”
The couple laughs and Deborah lets her hand fall heavy against Ava's ass. Ava jumps in place and the pressure of movement sends a jolt directly to her pussy. “Fuck—”
Ava’s eyes widen with mischief. “There’s my girl…”
She rolls her hips once again. Deborah palms her belly, and grabs her ass, simultaneously pushing her away and pulling closer.
Ava keeps at the movement and leans down to press a kiss on her lips then buries her face on her neck, nips softly at the skin.
The pressure builds and builds. Ava’s back and forth and roll and It’s still technically all pretend but every once in a while her knee makes actual contact with her clit and drives her insane. To the point that the noises coming out of her mouth stop being fake.
Debora feels something coil deep inside her body, she grabs the back of Ava’s neck, pressing their foreheads together as they both panted. “Ava.” She whimpers. Ignoring the fact that it sounds so turned on.
“Yeah, D.?”
Deborah shakes her head, refusing to let her eyes fall shut or let her body enjoy the moment. Ava’s tits rub against her own, perky nipples dragging against her chest over and over again until hers are just as stiff as the younger woman’s.
What the hell is happening?
“A-Ava—” Deborah stutters, eyes wide as she looks up at the writer. Ava's eyes are so locked in on her breasts she doesn't even notice the change in her gaze. She hasn't even touched her and Deborah somehow feels like she is about to come. “Shit— f-fuck...”
Ava nods quickly. Deborah is not sure at what. She only knows that the young woman looks insanely beautiful on top of her too. Ava lays down on top of her, a hand planted firmly between their bodies and tucked away on her own pussy as she pretended to fuck her. Debora wonders if Ava is touching herself with every whimper she makes.
The writer nuzzles her neck and whimpers. “Please, come for me baby.”
Deborah squeaks. Honest to God squeaks, at the request. And promptly decides to put an end to this freakshow of night. Throwing her head back with a loud moan. Her back arches off the ground and her legs close around Ava’s body so tightly that for a moment even she thinks it's real. Ava's knee is now fully flush against her pussy and Deborarh would be lying if she said she didnt hump it of her own accord for a moment or two.
She opens her eyes a few seconds later and catches Ava looking at her in a mix of horror, delight and confusion. Deborah taps her shoulder twice to get her to put some distance between them.
Ava looks at her, a question mark written all over her face.
Did that actually just happen?
Deborah rolls her eyes slightly.
As if.
The disappointment is obvious on Ava’s face. She rolls away from her body and they both stare at the dark sky. Nothing but hurried breaths filling the silence around them.
The moment of peace it's quickly dissolved though. Kelly’s nymphomaniac of a wife makes herself present yet again.
Monica asks them how they liked it and how it felt, and if they could go again. Deborah uses her age as an excuse for the first time ever and hates it immediately but unfortunately it was the only way she thought to turn down any other attempt.
So Monica goes for Ava. Again.
Deborah might just slap her for it. She looks at Kelly, wondering how the woman isn't even a bit bothered by her wife's sudden obssession with her girlfriend.
Ava takes a sharp breath and looks at her for approval— which she denies— but Monica’s nails rake across the back of her thighs anyway. The writer gulps as both hands are splayed across the milky expanse of her ass. Spreading her open and kissing each cheek before diving back in. Ava jolts away and reaches for Deborah’s body.
“M-Monica, i don’t think—”
“Don’t need you to think. Ass up, darling.” Monica cuts her off by grabbing her hips and flipping the writer on her stomach. Ava goes without much of a fight. It's baffling how well she’ll listen when there’s sex involved.
Again, Deborah needs to capitalize on that somehow.
Monica pushes her face between the girl's legs without ceremony and the young woman makes a broken sound while reaching for her hand. Clearly too oversensitive to keep at Monica’s pace, thighs snapping shut as her body instinctively tries to jolt away from further stimulation. Still, she doesn't pull away completely, choosing instead to bite on Deborah’s hand like it's some kind of sensory toy. Deborah hisses a bit but she’s mostly mesmerized by the sight and the feel of Ava’s lips around her fingers.
Monica drags Ava back to the tub once she realizes the young woman could barely keep her hips up. Deborah follows, a mix of curiosity and worry guiding the action. The hot water feels nice against her body.
Ava is bent over the edge once again and Monica makes her come one more time before reaching for the strap lying discarded on the deck.
Deborah decides to step in. “I—” Her voice breaks. “I think you broke her, Monica.”
The woman laughs and clicks her tongue, bringing the tip of the toy to Ava’s slit and lathering it with her slick then nudging it against another entrance. Deborah can practically see the full body shiver running down Ava's spine.
“Oh… I think she has another one in her.” Monica purrs.
Ava whines and weakly pushes Monica’s hand away.
“N-Nope, red! I— red— I might actually pass out.”
“Or maybe not.” Monica says simply, like she didn't almost try to kill the girl. She kisses the handprint on Ava’s ass before fully pulling away completely. “Thank you for telling us, sweetie. Do you want to go back to your girl?” She asks.
Ava nods, sluggish. Deborah watches as her limp body is cradled by two pairs of hands that eventually place the young woman carefully on top of her. Face pressed against her shoulder, hands grabbing weakly at her back in an effort to stay up.
“Deb…” She whimpers, face all blotchy with happy tears. Clinging to her body like a lifeline between troubled waters. Deborah gently wipes her hand over her face and takes her by the waist, adjusting her position into a more comfortable one.
“I'm here.” She rushes to reassure the writer. “I'm here honey. Are you okay?”
Ava pushes her face between her breasts and nuzzles, Deborah lets out a shaky sigh when the warm lips make contact with her skin. “Pretty sure I turned into jello.” She mumbles.
“Pretty sure indeed.” Deborah chuckles nervously. She clears her throat. “Do you, um… need anything?”
Ava gives her a small shake of her head, eyes fluttering open for a split second before pulling her into a kiss. They both sigh into it. It's soft and slow and not at all like the one they shared just moments ago but this one feels more intimate somehow. Ava’s thumb traces small circles on Deborah's cheeks and the gentleness of the action might just make her heart explode.
“Just… keep holding me. Please?” She whispers. Deborah couldn't bring herself to do anything else.
“Of course…” Deborah wraps her arms around the writer.
She can feel Monica and Kelly staring at them. She's not sure why and she doesn't care either. Not when she has Ava cozying up against her body.
The couple eventually excuse themselves and step into the house, promising a quick return.
The silence that settles around them is both unsettling and a relief. Deborah can't find it in her to break it.
She looks down at the younger woman, now lying on top of her. Eyes closed, face flushed and sweaty, still whining and writhing in the aftershocks.
Say something. Anything. Deborah thinks.
The longer they bask in the quietness, the more comfortable she gets with the thunderstorm of feelings happening inside her chest. And that just can't happen.
Deborah likes predictability, craves control over the things that happen in her life. And she absolutely hates idle time.
She clears her throat. Choosing to break the silence with a topic she's more comfortable with.
“You know, I think this stunt of yours might actually get me that jumpsuit. She's talked about clothes three separate times now. And mentioned a cryptic part of her closet.”
Ava for her part doesn't take any offense. She snorts, clearly used to Deborah's ways.
“Yayy… Ava for the win.” She murmurs, snuggling closer, one hand grabbing onto one of her boobs like a comfort toy. “Gonna take a quick nap. BRB.”
“Oh, no, Ava— you know I can't carry you up—” Deborah barely has any time to complain because the next few seconds she notices the change in Ava’s breathing patterns. “And she's gone.”
Deborah sighs, a small smile forcing its way on the corner of her lips. She strokes the writer’s hair with care. “Well, I guess you earned it…”
A few minutes pass and Deborah is devising a plan on how to take Ava to their bedroom without waking her up or forcing her back.
She comes up empty. Maybe they'll both just prune away at this hot tub until the sun rises and Kelly and Monica remember they have guests.
The couple finally makes an appearance just as Deborah was about to shake Ava awake. And they come bearing clothes, towels and water bottles.
“Sorry for the wait. Had to take care of the lady.” Kelly gives her a white smile.
Deborah chuckles politely as she’s handed a bottle.
She takes a big gulp, only now realizing how thirsty she was. Monica collects their clothes from the dining room and places them on one of the sunbeds.
Kelly places a hand on her shoulder. “Deborah, I must say. I was so wrong about you back then.” She sighs, deeply apologetic. “And I regret not being able to see through the facade and reach out to help you. I know for a fact how hard it is to hide who you are. I'm sorry you've had to do it for so long.”
Deborah feels bad. Kelly is out here pouring her heart out for a lie. Ava and her are not…
Deborah Vance is a straight woman.
“I— It's fine. It’s…” She falters. “In the past.”
Kelly smiles. “Good.” She looks back at Monica who is almost asleep in a lounge chair too.
“We’re gonna turn in now. Do you guys need anything else?”
Deborah shakes her head no at first, ready to call it a night too.
But yet again she tries for her goal. “Actually— now that you mention, should we be bad and have another tour of your closet before we hit the hay?”
Kelly chuckles, clearly a little confused on her insistence. Maybe she’s laying it on too thick. “Tomorrow, dear. I'm pretty sure your lady needs a little taking care of too.”
As she says it, Ava wakes up from her nap, face puffy, wiping her chin off the puddle of drool she left on her chest. The imprint of Deborah's necklace marked on her cheek. Deborah scolds a little, just to keep her on her toes. Then Monica suggests using a mouth tape for it, which Deborah promptly shuts down by telling a story of how Ava woke up crying in the middle of the night because she dreamt she couldn't breathe.
She wonders why she had that information in the first place but it serves to solidify their not-so-fictional relationship.
The walk back to their room is silent.
There are no jokes, comments or complaints that Ava wants to raise to her attention. It’s weird to see the younger woman so silent, especially when she had been very vocal a few moments earlier.
Deborah for her part is silent too.
Truth is that watching someone you’re close with get passed around and fucked thoroughly has your mind start wandering on its own.
Ava stops by the foot of the bed to stretch her back and her sweater— the only item of clothing on her body— rides up above her thighs, giving Deborah a view of a place she was trying really hard not to think about.
The image of Ava’s wet pussy stretched around Monica’s cock flashes behind her eyes.
Deborah groans and lets herself fall on the bed. She needs to calm down.
She stares at the ceiling, wondering what god she had to curse — or thank — for this to be her life now. From the corner of her eye she catches sight of Ava attempting to climb on the mattress with her.
“God, I'm wrecked.” She groans. “Do you think they'll want to do something tomorrow too? Cause if so, i’m gonna need a massage and like eighteen hours of sl—”
Deborah sits up in a flash, keenly aware of the fact that the woman who almost made her come without even being touched is half naked, on all fours and crawling in her direction. Still, she needs to put a stop to this crazy night. She clicks her tongue while shaking her head at the writer. “Ah-Ah, tub.”
Ava can’t seem to believe her ears. “What?!” She sits back on her heels, knees spread, just waiting for—
Deborah blinks quickly and looks away. Jesus fucking Christ.
“You. Tub. Now.” She points towards the bathroom.
Ava scoffs loudly. “I just spent the last three hours getting fucked into oblivion! I almost cramped like five times back there— I can't go back in the tub!”
Deborah sighs. See? A lovesick Ava would be exhausting to deal with.
Deborah stands up, taking the writer by the hand and guiding her out of bed. Ava goes without much trouble other than huffing and gasping in disbelief, still sluggish from the effort of their previous activities.
She plants her feet just when they were about to reach the bathroom door. Deborah sighs again.
“First of all, you reek of sex, so you should take a shower anyway.” She says, chalking her confusing feelings up to a fake practicality.
Ava tugs on the neckline of her sweater, checking for the smell Deborah mentioned and rolling her eyes when she realizes it was actually there.
She’s about to open her mouth when Deborah cuts her off. “And second, sleeping in the same bed is way too intimate. There has to be a line somewhere and this is where i draw it.”
Forget the fact that they had slept on the same bed before or the fact that minutes earlier, Ava sprawled naked on top of her and drooling all over her chest. Rationality has left the room the minute they stepped into that hot tub. If Deborah was being honest with herself, she would admit that it had left her mind the minute she decided to come up with this deranged plan. There's no such thing as casual ‘fake’ sex with someone you live with. How could she be so naive?
“Are you serious? We just saw each other naked! That's supposed to bond us!” Ava screeches, just short of stomping her foot on the ground.
“I also watched you come exactly four times more than I ever should've. We've had enough bonding.”
Ava marches close to her. “Fuck you.” She shoves at her shoulders. “I get you the fucking jumpsuit you’ve been bitching about for a week, and this is how you repay me? Not a single thank you? Not even a pat on the back or good job?”
Deborah rolls her eyes, exasperated by how needy Ava is and how completely unbothered she feels about it. She usually hates needy men, stays as far away from them as possible because they always try to steal her thunder, undermine her, or divert her attention from what actually matters: her career.
But Ava isn’t a man and Ava is her career.
Deborah stands up and walks closer and closer, until Ava’s back hits one of the few walls in the bedroom.
Christ, these people are obsessed with glass.
She cups Ava’s chin between her index and her thumb, squeezing gently.
“Thank you, Ava.” she whispers, enjoying the way Ava’s eyes fall to her lips.
Deborah’s hand slips to the side of Ava’s neck, gently cupping it. Ava looks up, her eyes filled with something Deborah can’t quite read— shock, desire, something bigger, or perhaps entirely different.
Her thumb brushes back and forth against Ava’s flushed cheek.
“You did a very good job of lying there and taking it.”
Deborah watches as Ava’s mouth falls open, already offended before she even finishes.
“You know, for someone who's always whining about taking initiative you are surprisingly submissive. But I’m sure getting the brains fucked out of that tiny little head of yours was a very hard thing to do. For me.”
She pauses, letting the words sit between them.
Ava rises onto her tiptoes, body leaning forward like she can’t help but be pulled into her orbit. Deborah licks her lips, memories of this crazy night popping behind her eyes when she feels how much closer Ava is. Deborah decides she likes this look on her too. Ava snaps out of her trance a second too late and loses her balance, toppling onto her body.
They both freeze.
For a moment, neither of them moves, both too aware of how close they are and the fact that neither one seems particularly eager to step away.
Ava clears her throat.
“You see, I’m not even gonna complain about how backhanded that is because this is weirdly doing it for me.”
Deborah rolls her eyes. “Figures.”
She pats Ava’s ass twice and heads back to the bed, readily tucking herself underneath the blankets, eager to sleep this night off. But she just can’t help but comment.
“You also look pathetic when cum. Just thought you should know.”
Ava actually looks embarrassed this time, and Deborah immediately feels the need to soften the blow.
“In a good way! Your partners probably like it.”
At least I did.
Debora watches as a small smile appears in the corner of Ava’s lips.
“Okay…” She tilts her head and steps closer, gesturing between them. “Is this a vibe?”
Oh.
My.
God.
Deborah throws her pillow in Ava's face with the precision of a forty year old who talks way too much about her archery classes. Ava ducks just in time.
God, Monica is exhausting…
“Tub. Now!” She screeches.
“Ugh, fine. But you’re buying me a massage when we get back!” Ava rolls her eyes and grabs the pillow from the floor, taking it with her to the bathroom. “And I'm taking this with me!”
Deborah huffs and lies down.
They'll need to talk about this night eventually. Eventually they will sit down and talk about how Deborah just watched Ava get bent and fucked by Kelly Kilpatrick and her multidisciplinary skilled wife— and how she got off on it. But the day to dive into her sexuality and potential feelings for Ava is not today. She lets the tiredness take over her body, tuning into the sound of Ava making her “bed” in the other room. She smirks to herself, finding a final opportunity to mess with the writer.
“And take a shower!”