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Like most Saturdays, Argenti wakes first. She’s accustomed to early mornings at the gym, so she rarely sleeps past nine even without an alarm. Midmorning sun slants through sheer curtains that wave softly in a barely-there breeze—the weather has been so nice recently that Argenti and Boothill have taken to leaving the windows open.
Like most mornings, Argenti is the little spoon. Boothill, her body wiry and lean, has wrapped herself as far around her partner as she can: legs tangled together, stubble scritching; nose pressed to neck, breath warm and damp; arm thrown over waist, snaking under clothing to rest on skin. Boothill’s hand rests splayed over Argenti’s ribs, thumb just pressing into the soft flesh of her breast.
Content, Argenti lets herself drift in half-wakefulness for a few minutes. She stretches minutely, brushing her legs against Boothill’s. Outside, birds chitter and cast flitting shadows over the window. Argenti breathes deep, eyelids heavy, and closes her hand over Boothill’s. As much as she wants to stay here, she also wants to get up, start her stretches, maybe go for a run. Argenti begins the delicate process of extracting herself from Boothill’s embrace without disturbing her too greatly.
“Stay.” Boothill’s sleepy mumble comes almost immediately.
Argenti smiles. So she was awake. “Beloved,” she says, and pushes up on her elbows just enough so that she can turn over and face her partner.
Boothill’s expression is soft with sleep, one eye open the barest sliver that seems on the verge of succumbing to slow blinks. She lets out a breath and pulls Argenti closer with boneless limbs, hands sliding up Argenti’s back to rest over her shoulder blades. “Stay,” she mumbles again. “Warm…girlfriend…nice.”
Argenti kisses Boothill’s forehead, her nose, and then her mouth. “Good morning, beloved,” she murmurs. Her voice is morning-deep and scratchy.
Boothill, eyes now firmly closed, smiles a bit and leans forward. Her first kiss misses, catching only the corner of Argenti’s mouth, but she quickly course-corrects. The kiss lingers, their breath warm and a little stale. Boothill lets out a pleasant hum and starts to suck on Argenti’s lip.
Argenti laughs a little but kisses her back, hand coming up to cup Boothill’s cheek. Boothill seems to wake in stages, ones that Argenti can keep track of through the progression and coherence of their kiss. Boothill opens her mouth, swiping her tongue over Argenti’s lips; she bites with just enough force to pull on Argenti’s bottom lip, until Argenti opens her mouth as well; she slides her tongue past Argenti’s teeth, licking greedily.
“Mmmm,” Argenti sighs. “Beloved.”
“No,” Boothill says into her mouth.
“No?” Argenti asks, amused.
“That’s your I’m-about-to-stop-kissing-my-wonderful-girlfriend voice. I’m vetoing it,” Boothill says. Her hands slide down Argenti’s back, slipping under the waistband of her shorts to dig her fingers into the supple flesh of her ass. “You have to stay.”
And how can Argenti argue with that? She can’t. She doesn’t.
Instead, she sneaks a hand under Boothill’s underwear and between her legs. Her fingers brush through soft, curly hair, and then her middle finger runs slowly between Boothill’s folds. She feels the beginning of slickness, uses it to rub slowly at Boothill’s clit.
Boothill lets out a breathy moan. “Yeah,” she says, twisting her hips to lie flatter. She parts her legs. “Oh.”
Argenti’s finger dips back towards Boothill’s entrance, pressing just deep enough to gather the slick needed to keep her motions smooth and light. Argenti pulls away from their kiss and mouths instead at Boothill’s neck, sitting up enough that she lays half over her partner. Argenti is thorough, more concerned with a slow all-over pleasure than she is with getting Boothill off right away. With her free hand she pushes up the loose and worn-thin tank top Boothill wore to sleep in, moving her kisses down Boothill’s neck to land on her chest, her breasts.
Boothill’s nipples are already stiffening, and they get harder when the fabric of her shirt slides over them to expose them to the air. Argenti latches her mouth to one, sucking and then biting until she manages to coax a groan out of her partner. Boothill is generally the quiet one during sex, trending more towards quiet expletives and little gasps, so it’s always a pleasure when Argenti pulls a true vocalization from her.
Argenti finally slides two fingers into Boothill’s cunt; she’s slick and still loose from sleep, so the passage is easy. One of Boothill’s hands comes up to grab at Argenti’s thick hair, fingers tangling into the rust-red curls; the other grips the pillow above her head. “Fuck,” she hisses, rolling her hips onto Argenti’s fingers. “Darlin’.”
She’s so easy to undo, Argenti thinks, sinking her teeth into Boothill’s tit. Her chest is small, but Argenti likes the way she can fit almost a whole breast in her mouth, the way that Boothill’s nipples stand up proudly even when she’s lying flat on her back. She loves everything about Boothill’s body.
“Darlin’,” Boothill says again, almost a moan. “Oh, ffff—honey, please—”
Argenti releases her mouth from Boothill’s flesh—red indents in the shape of her teeth spot the smooth brown skin—but she doesn’t pull her fingers out. They’re just close enough to the nightstand that she can reach over and snag a vibrator out of the drawer. Boothill finds it easier to come with the help of a toy, and Argenti loves watching the way her legs spasm from the pleasure it brings—a win-win. Argenti thumbs the switch, and the vibrator buzzes to life.
Boothill’s lips curve into a lazy smile, and she lifts her hips to pull off her bottoms entirely. “You’re so thoughtfulloooH~!” her words are cut off in a pleased waver when the vibrator meets her cunt; Argenti can actually hear the squiggle in her voice.
Argenti angles the vibrator the way she knows Boothill likes; she pairs the motion with a firm stroke of her fingers from the inside that punches a gasp from Boothill’s mouth. Argenti is greedy, and so she shifts enough that she can kiss Boothill again, working her fingers in and out of her pussy, kicking the vibrator up a setting when she starts to get used to it. They don’t speak much, content to just feel the other’s body and lick into the other’s mouth. Argenti is sure to keep working slick over Boothill’s clit, and before long Boothill hisses out through her teeth and throws her head back. She bucks her hips up as she comes, feet pressed flat into the mattress, and pulls hard enough at Argenti’s hair that it almost hurts. “Fuck,” Boothill gasps, body going loose and tight all at once, “fuck.”
Argenti turns the vibrator off but doesn’t pull out her fingers. She kisses Boothill, deep, and presses her hand deeper in turn. Boothill sighs into Argenti’s mouth, wrapping her arms around her neck. “Wanna taste you,” she mumbles, and wriggles a little so she’s lying flat on her back. “C’mere.”
Argenti finally pulls her hand free from Boothill’s cunt. “How could I say no to you, dearest?” She stands on her knees, pushing her own shorts down, and sticks her fingers in her mouth. “Mmm,” she moans, a little for show but mostly genuine. “If I taste half as delectable to you as you do to me, it’s no wonder you want me on your face.”
Boothill’s cheeks go dark with a flush of blood. “Shaddup and lemme eat you out.”
Argenti doesn’t tease any more, instead throwing a leg over Boothill’s torso and knee-walking up so her hips align with her mouth. Boothill licks her lips and curls her arms around Argenti’s thighs, fingers pressing divots into the soft layer of fat over her muscle. She’s joked before that Argenti can crush her skull with those thighs—and that it would be her preferred way to go.
Boothill’s tongue licks slow and wet at Argenti’s cunt, and Argenti gasps, a little unprepared. “Oh—oh,” she says, all eloquence gone. Her hands find the headboard and grip tight.
Boothill loves eating pussy, especially loves eating Argenti’s, and Argenti loves looking down at the flutter of her eyelashes as she does. Really, they work so well together, each enjoying the pleasure of the other. It’s what makes mornings like these, where they get to bask in the feel of each other’s bodies and the sound of each other’s little noises, so wonderful.
Boothill’s tongue slides over Argenti’s cunt, slicking her skin and flicking at her clit. Argenti lets a moan spill from her lips. She’s less prone to the expletives that Boothill looses when they have sex, but she does let herself voice her pleasure wordlessly.
So, when Boothill sucks at her clit, tongue swift and paired with just the faintest bite of teeth, Argenti groans, arching her back. When Boothill digs her blunt fingernails into Argenti’s thighs and buries her nose in her cunt as her tongue plunges deep, Argenti lets out a sharp cry. When Boothill works her skilled mouth towards Argenti’s orgasm, Argenti shouts and moves her hands to pull at Boothill’s long sleek hair, fingers scratching at the stubble of her undercut.
Argenti’s thighs are trembling by the time Boothill’s tongue does a wonderful little twist that pushes her over the edge, and she moans anew as she comes. Her legs tense up, pressing on either side of Boothill’s head, and she screws her eyes shut in an expression that she knows almost looks like pain.
When she catches her breath, Boothill laughs a little at her (again, with the thigh-crushing) and pushes her to the side. Argenti flops, loose, to the mattress and lets out one last moaned “Oh.”
Boothill wriggles over and kisses Argenti, sharing the taste of her slick. They lay there for a moment, one of Boothill’s hands on Argenti’s tit, Argenti’s grip firm on Boothill’s ass, and kiss lazily.
“Mmm,” Boothill hums, pulling back the barest amount. “Glad I convinced you to stay?”
“Yes,” Argenti says, pecking the tip of her nose. “Very.”
“Think you’d wanna stay a bit longer?” Boothill asks, eyes alit and mischievous.
Argenti pretends to think about it. “Perhaps. Depends on how persuasive you are.”
“Oh, I can be mighty persuasive,” Boothill promises, and leans forward to kiss Argenti again, long and deep. After a moment, she breaks their kiss, a little breathless. “How was that?”
Argenti grins and cups the side of her partner’s face. “It was a good start. Maybe you should try again, just so I can make sure.”
“You’re a tease,” Boothill says, but she kisses her again. And again. And again.