Archive of Our Own

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Andy has a problem. A really, really big problem, and she has no idea what to do about it.

She's currently sat on the worktop of the dressing room, her bass in her hands and tucked against the crease of where her plush thigh meets her hip beneath her jeans, and she knows her palm must be gliding up and down the neck and her fingers must be moving across the fat strings, because it’s what she does, but she can hardly feel or hear anything to do with that because of what's in front of her. She's not even looking at her instrument– she's instead facing ahead, eyes shyly stuck on the couple who're lounging on the couch in each other's arms, laughing softly into the corners of their mouths and whispering things so faint she can't even hear. That couple, that's her problem.

It's Mike and her girlfriend, Christina. And no, it's not the fact they're together and they're both women, because Andy is quite the opposite of a bigot, in fact, if her own ex-girlfriends and her frequent ongoing trysts with Johnny are anything to go by. She loves seeing them swept up in each other, loves that they're confident and sure enough to show themselves and their true colours off to the world without even an inkling of interest in hiding it, in locking themselves behind closed doors and keeping everything under wraps. They've probably done more in their young lives for people like them everywhere than Andy can even conceive of. It's just, seeing them wrapped up in one another's limbs, rubbing their noses together, their eyelids heavy… it sort of does a bit too much for Andy, much more than she would like it to do for her.

Because Mike's her friend. She's supposed to think about her in a friendly, modest way, to greet her with a grin each time they meet up and ask her how she's doing, to head out to the pub with her and bet on anything and everything they can think of while pissed, to say her goodbyes at the end of each day they see each other, and to give her a pat on the shoulder on top of that. What she's not supposed to do is have to squeeze her thighs together roughly when she sees the other woman enter the studio, when she stretches with her thick fingers laced above her head and groans, arching her back to a near inappropriate degree so the swell of her chest juts out more than usual, her Smiths vest revealing every little line of her body and the silhouette of her underwear. She's not supposed to have to hide her red face as Mike's clothes ride up, and her jaw shouldn't go lax when Mike peels her sweat-soaked top off after a gig and whips it across the room with a whoop of joy, the matte fabric of her bra against the curves of her breasts able to draw attention from a kilometre away. And she definitely, definitely shouldn't be ducking her head and smiling bashfully when their eyes meet onstage and they exchange lovely smiles, shouldn’t feel her cheeks grow rosy pink just because she might've been caught staring at Mike's mouthwateringly massive arms.

But this is only half of the problem, really, because even though it stems from Mike it's being furthered by Christina. Because Andy's trying to focus on practising on her bass, warming up for later's show and wondering desperately why Johnny and Mozza aren't in yet, and her eyes are drawn away from the thing she should be doing in order to watch the two women on the couch cushions kiss slowly. They’re just visible enough over the back of the sofa for Andy to see the way Mike steers the kiss so powerfully that it's almost dizzying, a big hand on Christina's jaw and a strong furrow to her dark eyebrows as she licks her way into her girlfriend's mouth. It makes Andy burn all over, like she's been doused in gasoline and someone's struck a match to hold up to her, and she can only shiver and hope she isn't stumbling over whatever notes she's playing as Mike suddenly manhandles Christina onto her lap, biting her lip in a smile as the smaller woman gasps and giggles, eyes fluttering shut as Mike begins to pepper her face and neck in quick kisses. Being able to see the way Mike is, the way she'll slot her lips to fit with someone else's and tease her tongue against theirs, the way she commands the situation entirely, it turns Andy on like nothing else can. Her heart thuds wildly in her chest as she imagines being under Mike, or between the two of them right now, sandwiched or held down by gorgeous, gorgeous women, and her legs tense up as she purses her lips and tips them together.

This isn't the only time they've been this open about their more “passionate” activities either, for lack of a better word. One of the many perks that come with them being unafraid and in love with who they are, is that they don't care who sees what, no matter where they are or when it is, and Andy's lost count of how many times they've been tangled on any variety of furniture or how often she's yelped in shock when she rounded a corner to find Mike hoisting Christina's leg over her hip as they snogged against a wall, and how frequently she'll have to suppress her shudders and pretend to be asleep as they fuck in the bed next to her, in a shared hotel room. Nobody in the band minds, they'd made sure of that before getting up to things lest they make anyone uncomfortable, but Andy's got an issue with it for a whole different reason. It's almost painful for her to be single right now — whatever she does with Johnny doesn't count, Johnny's already taken by two separate people — with how they love on each other in front of them all, and she's had many shameful moments where she's had to run off at the sight of them, to shut herself in the stall of a public restroom to shove her hand down her trousers and clap her palm over her mouth to keep quiet when she cums.

Andy startles when Mike abruptly lets out a sound that's like a growl, rumbling and low in her throat, as she nips at Christina's full lower lip and sucks on it harshly, kissing a half-moon against her chin as Christina smiles in response and lets out soft airy breaths as the ministrations continue. Goosebumps flood their way down Andy's neck and all the way to her tailbone, and she tries to keep the rise and fall of her chest steady, can't seem to tear her eyes off what's happening in front of her even though her ears aren't ringing as much and she can hear the thrum of her bass, now. It sounds uncoordinated and stuttering, and she grits her teeth in embarrassment, sighing silently and finally letting go of her instrument in defeat, lifting it off her lap and planting the body on the floor between her legs, which are still dangling off the worktop.

Her mind drifts, again, to being curious and faintly distressed over where Johnny and Morrissey are, because they need to be here to prepare mentally and to get the soundcheck ball rolling, even if the clock seems to be ticking by slower and slower each minute. And then, with a slight twinge of fond annoyance, she realises she could probably make a bloody good guess. But her ruminating on it is cut short by the singer and guitarist themselves, barging into the room as if summoned by her thoughts, the former beelining to the other side of the worktop Andy's sitting on to wrest her coat off and throw it over the surface, the latter letting out a low whistle at Mike and her girlfriend being the immediate first thing she'd seen upon entering. Hilariously, Andy's guess is confirmed as she looks to her side, and out of the corner of her eye, spots blooming colour that's been sucked across the expanse of Morrissey's neck, fresh and bright, a flush and a distant sheen to her face. Andy snorts, and rapidly averts her eyes when Morrissey's head snaps towards her.

"Sorry we're late," Johnny grins, pulling out a cigarette already and striking a match faster than Andy can blink, angling the collar of her shirt suspiciously. Christina slides off Mike, who presses a last lingering kiss to the underside of her throat and then holds her against her side, tugs her legs into her lap to hold onto Christina's knee in an almost protective manner as she lolls her head backward to watch Johnny saunter towards their other bandmates. Johnny continues, "Mozzer forgot something in me car. Had to go and grab it," and Mozza's face must be redder than red by now, but Andy knows if she glances over to look again, she'll be killed by the power of Morrissey's glare alone.

"No worries," Andy replies, the words rolling off her tongue in what she hopes is a coherent way, still feeling sweaty and overheated from their drummer's impromptu session of almost-sex.

"We all ready for the soundcheck?" Johnny asks, stretching her slim arms out in front of her and then bringing her delicate hands closer to her chest, cracking her knuckles and puffing on her cigarette without even having to take it out of her mouth. The reflective gloss of her sunglasses make the lights overhead bounce spectacularly off of them. Morrissey nods mutely in response, and Mike gives a low "yeah" from where she's sat on the couch, kisses Christina once more before murmuring something to her and standing, and Andy hops off the worktop and draws her bass up, flinging the strap over her shoulder.

"Yeah," she says, bobbing her head, and Johnny lets the corner of her mouth where the cig isn't tucked curve into a smirk, practically skipping over to where she's stood her guitar up against the wall to cradle it in her arms like it's her baby. And Andy's just glad to be out of here, away from the apparently endless fountain of sexual appeal that'd coalesced on the lucky furniture, even if a source of it's going to be following her onto the stage and she's probably going to be caught in the act anyway when she ogles Mike's fast-moving arms.

When they make it out into the hallway with their equipment and Morrissey and Johnny stride ahead of them, Andy watches shyly from a distance as Mike pauses to smother Christina in several more kisses, murmuring, "see you tonight, beautiful," before mirroring her girlfriend's winning smile as Christina trots to the exit. Mike watches her go, and Christina keeps sending little glances back over her shoulder with cheery giggles to accompany them, until Mike eventually laughs and motions with her hand to, basically, get out of here already. Christina grins from her faraway spot, until she gives her girlfriend a last sugary look and pushes her way through the door, and only then does Andy realise she's been standing there and staring for far too long. She almost gasps in surprise at herself as she scurries away, holding tight onto her bass and squeezing the neck, hoping her cheeks aren't glowing crimson, feeling like a lunatic. The image of her in place of Christina is almost painstakingly vivid, of her being on the receiving end of that affectionate expression, that easy and loving curve to Mike's plump lips, that melting shimmer in her eyes as she watches her girlfriend move round a room, or walk away, or do anything at all. The way she handles her with so much care– it's an addictive sight, for a plethora of reasons.

As Andy steps out onto the stage and finds her place on it, getting used to the view, Mike suddenly walks by and claps a hand down on her shoulder, so firm and sudden that she jumps, gaping up at Mike, who's looking down at her strangely. Her gaze is dark and heated with something that makes Andy's mouth dry like a towel's been stuffed into it; Mike’s eyes are flickering like liquid fire, and Andy doesn't dare try and put a word to it for fear of getting her feeble hopes up, but she's hard pressed scrambling to think of anything other than what it seems to be: lust. Mike's looking at her like she wants to fuck her, to hold her down by her shoulders and thrust her legs up with her hips, leave teeth-marks and bruises all over her before she pushes her fingers in and twists them roughly together against her walls. Andy fails at suppressing her shudder over this image, and grows embarrassed, but Mike's eyes just darken more and she even licks her lips, Andy helplessly watching the movement before she heaves her eyes up to Mike's own. When Mike squeezes her rounded shoulder, rubs her thumb roughly into the faint line of muscle where it's concealed by her shirt, she luckily succeeds in silencing the gasp she wanted to let escape.

"Ready for the show?" Mike asks, and her voice is gruff and low, and it sends hot trails of arousal shooting down south to the space between Andy's legs, and she valiantly resists the urge to squeeze her thighs together. She nods shakily, wordlessly, and Mike gives her that breathtaking grin of hers, her pale gums against her upper lip and her face curling happily with the entire movement. Continuing, Mike purrs, and it's low enough that only Andy can hear her whereas Johnny and Morrissey are about seven lightyears out of earshot, "Alright. Let's get on with the soundcheck, yeah?"

"Yeah," she replies hoarsely, but Mike's already padding away like she knew her answer ahead of time, her shoulders flexing attractively beneath her already-sweaty shirt, the valleys of her spine vivid as the fabric sticks to each swell of her back, and Andy wants to drag her fingertips over each and every one. When the drummer settles behind her set, picking up the sticks and twirling them round in her hand, looking over at Andy with that same expression, Andy's chest heaves and falls, and she takes a deep breath, and just tries to get through the rest of this soundcheck and this gig without dying.

It was excellent. There were so many stage invasions that they might as well have been playing on the floor with all of the people who'd come to watch them, so many fans flying into Moz's arms and enough murderous glances from Johnny at the other side of the stage to kill each and every one of them, some getting bold enough to press their lips to her neck or her shoulders as she giggled and pushed the microphone against her mouth. Some people had even clung to Johnny or Andy herself, arms around one of theirs and rushed words in their ears before security hauled them away and back into the crowd, or out of the entire venue. And towards the end when they were all four soaked basically head to toe in sweat, Morrissey and Johnny had done their little dance routine, spun around each other like a couple of drunks with an inability to hide the smiles on their faces, and Andy had dutifully played alongside Mike as their bandmates had fun together. The panting faces in the throng beneath them had flailed their arms and screamed so hard in support of them that Andy's relatively certain she'll now go deaf and blind about thirty years earlier in life, her senses completely overloaded by the visuals and the noise. She thinks she's never sounded better, personally, and she hopes that thought won't come back to bite her in the arse later when she sees the recording.

And also, every single time she'd tried to discreetly glance at the woman behind the drums, she'd met her greenish-brown eyes and startled at the knowledge Mike had been staring at her for nearly the entire night. At points, even though she thought she was doing great, it was so hard for Andy to play, between her flushed cheeks and trembling fingers and persistent feelings of arousal, that she thought she might keel over and die from the effort, biting the inside of her mouth harsh enough to taste blood as her hands skated over her bass's strings. Between songs and signals from Johnny or Morrissey, she'd gotten lost in the recent memory of Mike's yearning stare, directed at her, a strong hand squeezing her shoulder, the intoxicating smell of sweat and Christina's lingering perfume all assaulting her senses in the best way possible.

Andy's on her way back from the pub with Johnny now, a good bit of healthy drinking after the gig, and she's holding onto her wrist with some level of anxiousness as the hotel comes into view. Johnny's next to her smoking without a care in the world, trying to blow foggy rings into the air above her head and punching Andy's arm playfully when she misses her successes. But she can't focus on that right now. What she’s focusing on is serious, like.

Mike had stayed behind to give Christina a proper goodbye, because Christina had wanted to go back to Manchester for a while, instead of going back with the band when they wrap up the rest of their tour and head back there themselves, and Mike hadn’t wanted to miss her without seeing her off. Andy can only imagine what she meant by "a proper goodbye", honestly, and waves of both welcome and unwelcome images flood her mind: Mike pushing down on the expanse of Christina's wide shoulders, shoving her into the bed and hoisting her hips up until she's bent over her naked body, or pushing her girlfriend's legs up by her head and rubbing down against her like she's fucking her, wrapping her arms around her back and dragging her into each thrust. Wet and hot and hard, dizzying. It'd be so– and she's going to be alone with Mike tonight, because they had to get two hotel rooms with two beds each, and she's sharing with her, and after she's been given a look like that–

"Andy!" Johnny says sharply, knocking her in the bicep again, and Andy jolts, a humiliated flush colouring her face down to her exposed neck, realising Johnny must've been calling her name for a while now. "We're here. Jesus, you got somethin' on your mind, or what?" Johnny laughs, bumping their shoulders together, conveniently missing Andy's ashamed glance downward.

The walk up to her room is mortifying, because she knows what's awaiting her: Mike, and her thick arms and curved legs, large chest and firm hands, sultry eyes and shaven skin. She hopes the rest of the band and the record label won't be too upset if she drops dead the moment she walks into the room, just from being in shock, because it's likely going to happen.

She pushes open the door nervously after unlocking it, swallowing and licking her lips, and shuts and seals it behind her. The room is dimly lit, the only light coming from beneath the bathroom door a pale yellow that floods over the carpet, and she can hear the shower rushing and the telltale noise of Mike's humming as she moves around beneath the stream of water. Andy's heart thuds in her chest at the mental image of the other woman wet and without clothes, working her dense fingers through her flattened hair. She shuffles across the room to her designated bed, because some of Mike's stuff is on the rumpled sheets of the other one, toes off her shoes and takes in a shaky breath as she peels her socks away with them, unbuckling her tight belt and tossing it on the nightstand between the beds. Stressed, she drags her hand through her own soft blonde hair, rubs it down her face and plants her elbow on her knee and her chin in her hand, staring wide-eyed at the ground, trying to think about things that won't cooperate with her.

She wants to wash herself up after the gig and its afterparty, because she knows she absolutely reeks of body odour and alcohol and whatnot, but she's not sure if she's mentally prepared to see Mike emerge from the bathroom with her hair shiny and her skin downy, her clothes sticking to her with the slight wetness leftover from the shower. The drinks she'd had are sitting well, making her buzz, but she's nowhere near entirely drunk, and she finds herself wishing she was just so she’d have something to take her mind off of what’s happening right now, of what’s making her shake with anxiety. She hadn't even had as much as Johnny, but Johnny didn't get too pissed either. Then again, Johnny can handle her alcohol a lot better than most.

Andy eventually gets up and rounds her bed, roots around in her bag for clean clothes, and lands on a nice powder-blue shirt and a pair of dark boyshorts, and maybe, striped pyjama bottoms, if she feels like she won't kick them off before she gets comfortable in her blankets. As she's folding them all neatly to carry into the bathroom when it's her turn, the shower shuts off, and the following quiet sparks unbelievable apprehension in Andy's chest, and her lips part as she tries to steady her breathing, slipping blue cloth over itself until everything's all tidy. Right after she's got it all put together, the second she stands up with her clothes in her arms, the door opens and Mike comes out whistling, and when Andy looks over, she almost passes out.

Because Mike hasn't got clothes on. Nothing. There's nothing that covers her from her collarbone to her toes, still towelling the jet black spikes of her hair dry without a care in the world, her arms curled back over her head to hold it there and the muscles in her chest straining with the position. Her tits are out, and alright, Andy had been embarrassed to even think it beforehand, but they're massive, bigger than her own, and she very venomously wishes she could push Christina out of the situation for a while just to shove her own face between them, before she frightens herself with her own desperation. Mike’s shoulders have managed to be wider than her hips, but it's not that those aren't wide either, sloping outward with almost perfectly rounded flesh, her stomach both gentle and flat with muscle, torso pleasantly thick. All the fat on her body seems to ripple with each step she takes, her boobs down to her thighs, and Andy knows she should slap a hand over her eyes or at least look away, but she can't. It's like she's been bloody hypnotised. Mike's– she's entirely shaven, fuck, down between her legs too, sweeping stretches of even skin all over every bit of her.

Andy's mouth is open, and her jaw is a thousand percent on the floor. It's when Mike pauses between both of their beds with her shapely arse turned to the bassist, Andy letting out a startled chirrup at the sight, that Mike seems to realise that she's there. She looks over her shoulder with those dark brows raised, eyes a bit round, pink blooming all over her from the heat of the shower, and balls the towel up in her fists instead of covering herself with it, or anything like that. Andy thinks there's drool pooling in the corners of her own mouth.

"Oh, sorry," Mike murmurs, looking away again to fix the rumpled bedclothes in front of her, pulling the thin sheets and thick blankets up to fold them over and tuck them beside the eggshell-coloured cushions, giving Andy an impossibly perfect view of the vee where her spread legs meet. Andy nearly cries. Mike says, standing up straight again to fluff her pillows, "I didn't hear y'come in."

"S'alright," Andy says hoarsely. It comes out high and cracked and wrong, and she blushes fiercely, holding her clothes to her chest and nearly quivering. "'m gonna… shower. Now."

"Okay," Mike says, brushing her dark hair away from the back of her neck, and it's then that Andy realises with some level of hysteria that there's hickeys and bite marks there, like Christina had sealed her painted lips over the knob of her spine hidden beneath tufts of obsidian black, parting them, flicked her tongue where she'd stamped those marks, and Andy finds herself embarrassingly curious about whether or not Mike had to wash away lipstick stains. She'd had makeup on when her and Mike went back to the hotel, and Andy feels a deep stab of need at the idea of Mike decorated in smudges of red lipstick, over the edges of her mouth and underneath her chin. The middle of her throat, her collarbones, down to the slopes of her breasts, her pelvic bone, the insides of her legs where they meet her waist, all licked with wet crimson. Andy frantically wipes away a string of spit that'd fiendishly escaped from past her tongue with the back of her hand, scampers quickly towards the bathroom and hopes Mike didn't watch her enter.

The shower still smells warm and moist, and of whatever kind of scent had been stuffed into the soaps, some droplets of water scattered on the pale tile floor that Andy wipes away with the underside of her feet. She makes sure the worktop by the sink is dry before hoisting her change of clothes onto it, brushing away some stray pieces of lint and trying to catch her breath, like she'd just been held beneath ocean waves until she thrashed in her struggle to get some air. She's unbearably hot between her legs and wants nothing more than to deal with it, right here and right now, but she's never liked having sex before or during a shower, as she'd unfortunately discovered in a terrible experience with Johnny. It just makes her feel odd and uncomfortable, so she has to put up with it, either until it goes away or until Mike falls asleep, and she resigns herself to this idea.

That is, until Mike's suddenly stepping into the bathroom again, and Andy's whirling round because she saw her in the mirror, eyes huge as she's still not clothed, and she's still walking forward and she's backing Andy against the worktop, until her spine is digging painfully into the edge and she has to spread her limbs open to accommodate Mike's body. "Sorry," Mike says, entirely unbothered as Andy tries to lean out of the way of her boobs, staring up helplessly as Mike reaches over her to open the mirror and to get something out of it– something she can't even make out, because she's too focused on the hills and planes of visibly kiss-bitten skin before her, evidence of Christina's mouth practically forming a necklace around the base of Mike's throat, some blurred along the top of her tits. She resists the urge to whimper. "Forgot somethin' in here. Didn't mean to bother you," Mike grins, backing up again and sauntering out the door, shutting it behind her.

Andy feels like she's going to start hyperventilating, washing her makeup off with trembling hands and trying to keep enough air in her lungs to breathe correctly, splashing cold water on her face and holding on tight to the rim of the sink, just for a few moments. And then she lets the shower run, steam filling the room up again, and gingerly peels off her clothes to toss to the side where Mike's have already been discarded. At least this hotel shower's nice, she thinks; the last one she remembers allowing herself to be in was lacking in hot water, and there were roaches climbing the walls, and there was what she's pretty sure was a pile of mould sitting ominously in the corner. This one is spotless, and she sinks down to the floor of the tub to hold her head in her hands, the spray of water raining down on her chest and stomach and legs. She can't resist the urge to rub the heel of her hand over herself a few times, just to stem the feeling of need, not actually to get off from it, squeezes shampoo through her hair before digging her knuckles lightly against the start of her slit.

She finishes up quickly, shaking her hair out in the shower once the water's off like a wet dog, smoothing the wet strands away from her face and combing them back over her skull. She'd forgotten her razor at home so she can't shave even if she wants to, which, she doesn't, and hasn't bothered to for a while because she rather likes the way her legs feel when they're fuzzy, and Johnny seems to enjoy shoving her face into her when she's — as lewd as it is — got something to nose through. When she's done wiping herself down she gives herself a final stroke and hopes she can just get through the night, alone with Mike, pulling her underwear up her legs and settling them against her body, deciding to forgo the pyjama bottoms and just pulling her arms through her loose shirt instead, tentatively stepping out into the bedroom.

Mike's still naked, because of course she is, and Andy's cheeks burn as she almost trips towards her bag, stuffing the bottoms back into them and standing up only to accidentally meet Mike's eyes. She's reading a magazine that Andy doesn't have the strength to make out, because her mouth is suddenly pooling with saliva at the sight of Mike's thighs so enticingly crossed, just barely hiding what's between them with silken waves of skin. Mike smiles, and when she does, it looks like she knows something Andy doesn't.

"Like what you see?" she teases, and Andy's jaw drops and she jerks her head away, crossing her arms under her chest and nearly shaking. She's never getting that image out of her head, never, of Mike curled languidly on a not-quite-perfect hotel bed with her thumb planted between the sleek pages of a paper, hooded eyes scanning whatever's on it, her bust on display with her free hand cupped behind her head and her chest facing the ceiling. She looks absolutely beautiful in the low light, the glow wrapped around her body in the most eye-catching way imaginable, the serene shadows cradling her sides where they're dipped against the blankets. Andy wants to jump her bones.

"I– I–" she stutters, but she can't get anything out, her words and her vocal cords completely failing her. She must be glowing red, she's sure, and she eventually gives up trying to explain herself because she can't stop tripping over everything she tries to say, deciding to just jam her curled first against her mouth and screw her eyes shut to silence herself, praying that Mike just lets it go or laughs it off, reveals it's all some big joke at her expense. Which, right now, would really be a big relief, even if she might cry about it later. This all being some elaborate prank, Mike's behaviour being a scheme to try and trick her into getting all clammed-up and blooming with her anxiousness only to turn it on her when it's over, barks laughs at her and tell her she's got a girlfriend already, doesn't have a need for Andy, pulls the wool away from her eyes, it might be better than being left to broil in her confusion and desire. Sure, it'd throw off the rhythm section indefinitely, because Andy would just want to run away sobbing at the sight of Mike, forever until the end of time, and maybe destroy the entire band, but it'd be alright. It would be, she tells herself, breathing hard and heart racing.

"Oh, Andy, I was talking about the magazine," Mike laughs teasingly, flourishing it enough for Andy to notice that it's a lesbian porn mag when she opens her eyes, two naked women intertwined with their arms around each other and their wet mouths locked together, one of them below the other with her velvety legs wrapped around her lover's hips, printed big and bold on the page spread that Mike holds open for her; Andy instantly pales and her eyes widen more, meeting the other's with ease. Mike smirks sluggishly and sets it aside, her eyes following the movement of her own hand as she almost lovingly folds the magazine shut, after dog-earing the page she'd left off on like it's a regular novel, before she sidles forward and eases off the bed, the side closest to Andy. She trudges forward slowly like she knows what she's doing, and Andy absolutely does not take notice of the marks settled between Mike's thighs, on the insides, and over where her pelvic bone rests beneath her skin, ringing wide around her centre. She leans over to plant her hands on Andy's mattress, her breasts hanging down between the space of her arms and brushing against the sides, and Andy does not watch the way they bounce with the movement. Mike's smile is bordering on infuriating levels of stunning as she says, "But, y'know. Anything y'wanna tell me?"

"Um," she whines out, muffled past her hand, distracted by imagining the eye candy that would be Christina's face buried in her girlfriend's cunt, her eyes closed peacefully as she drags her tongue up through her and then over her clit, sucking in a daze at it until Mike chokes on her spit and she kicks out of Christina's grasp, knees buckling and stomach twitching. The path of smeared wetness that would drag all the way up her skin in a line when Christina rubs her mouth over her, before she moves to the side to nurse a bruise into being, around the spot where Mike wants her most– Andy had never thought something could be too arousing, but she might be changing her mind about that right now. Andy furrows her brows, trying to remember how to speak as she tenses up and feels heat gather between her legs, fist still firmly pressed against her mouth.

During Andy’s moment of indecision, Mike lazily sprawls out on her bed, spreading her fingers wide as she glides her hands through the plush blankets and then entirely flops onto the white mattress, her tits cushioned between her and the cloth. Andy watches as if hypnotised, wide-eyed with sweat beading on her brow, as Mike rolls over onto her back and opens her legs invitingly with one arched up towards the ceiling, a broad arm curling comfortably behind the back of her head, which she'd been resting on the pillow for a few brief moments. And then Mike slides her fingers at a snail's pace over the slope of her leg, coasts them towards that dip in her thigh that meets her labia, rubs them agonisingly gentle over her own skin and pulls softly so that her cunt is drawn slightly open with the motion, and when Andy swallows at the sight of her gleaming folds tugged apart it feels like she's trying to swallow around a handful of nails. Mike raises her eyebrows, and at her next words, Andy's almost certain she's going to explode on the spot:

"Come here, love," she murmurs, still dragging her thick fingers over the curve of her muscles, and Andy makes a shuddering noise in response, staring at her, unsure. Mike frowns faintly and sits forward, bracing both of her elbows on the bed to hold herself up, sadly blocking her chest from Andy's view, and continues, "Hey. You don't have to, I–" her throat bobs as she swallows uneasily, licking her lips, and Andy misses the sight of her when she closes her legs all of a sudden, "–I haven't read it all wrong, have I? Because you've every right to kick me out of here if I have."

"I– I'm just–" Andy tries, biting the inside of her cheek in frustration and feeling her face burn like fire. She wants to rip all the sentences she's got swirling around in her head out of her mouth, the ones on the tip of her tongue and practically screaming to escape, but all her years of speaking words seem to have left her tonight, because what's in front of her — Mike Joyce, in all her glory, stripped bare of clothes and aroused on her bed and evidently wanting to drag her into it — is making her so giddy that she feels ill, and skittish. She's not had sex with another woman in a long time, barring Johnny, because Johnny's up for whatever in the world she does no matter what it is, so, what if she somehow makes it bad, or she doesn't perform the way Mike wants her to? What if she just outright embarrasses herself, and Mike never wants to see her again, because she'd cheated on her girlfriend for this– Jesus, is Mike cheating on her girlfriend? "I want you, I'm… I don't know, I'm–"

"Nervous?" Mike suggests gently, and Andy nods her head so quickly that it feels like it'll fly off, brain banging around in her skull as though it's ricocheting off the walls and trying to get out. At that, a considerable level of tension seems to melt from Mike's body, and she offers a soft smile that Andy feebly returns, trembling and pulling with worry at the fabric of her pale blue sleeves. The taller woman holds her hand out, and Andy hesitantly takes it, curling her rounded fingers around the other's calloused palm, making a soft noise at the way she squeezes back. "You're alright, sweetheart, I'll take good care of you. C'mere, gorgeous."

Andy lowers her head with complete shyness, smiling uncontrollably wide, her dimples bursting out of her face and Mike's smooth lips peeling back in her own grin, gums against them and her arms open wide to accept Andy. A choppy, high-pitched breath tumbles from out of her as she's lowered onto Mike's chest, strong hands coming up to card delicately over her shoulder blades, with more tenderness than Andy could've ever pictured those deftly tough hands having with her. She can't help but look down at where her own tits get squashed against Mike's, jaw dropping at the half-moon arcs of the other's breasts so dense right below her, and Mike huffs a low laugh, lovingly drawing a hand up through Andy's bleached hair, over the buzzed back and into the fluffier top that's now dried, mussing it more than it already had been by the shower water. Andy freezes for a split-second, having been distracted from something she'd meant to ask by the dazzling visual of Mike beckoning her into the sheets. Mike pauses too, looking concerned, and waits for Andy to elaborate, doesn't take any further action, doesn't even keep petting through her hair until she knows everything's alright, and it makes Andy's heart skip a (hopefully unnoticeable) beat.

"Christina, you– you're cheating on her? With me?" Andy asks, in a small voice. She absolutely adores Mike, of course, and she'd pretty much have given anything to experience a moment like this, being held by Mike like she's something of a precious sort, but she never wanted Mike to be unfaithful, for crying out loud. Mike and Christina are entirely great together, so obviously in love with each other that it feels illegal not to be happy when they're around, even if you don't have anyone yourself. They're unstoppable together, and they– well, they turn Andy on. She doesn't want to do this if it's going to split them apart, she's not going to be a homewrecker; she'll distance herself as much as humanly possible, if that's what it takes. But, Mike just smiles, tucks a golden strand of hair behind Andy's ear where it'd fallen out of place and over her forehead.

"Oh, no," Mike says, consolingly, and Andy watches her hand out of the corner of her eye as it smooths down her vague jawline. "We're in an open relationship, and all that. She sleeps with other people all the time, as do I. Promise." Andy's eyelashes flutter with relief and her jaw goes lax again, almost panting as Mike rubs her knuckles underneath her chin, and then brings them up to her parted lips, suddenly looking every bit the sex maniac that Andy knows she is, pulling the ridges of her fingers through her wet mouth. Seemingly entranced by the shapes of Andy's face, Mike cocks her head and swipes her tongue over her own teeth, the movement being one that Andy tracks as Mike cups the side of her face. The thrill of having Andy in bed with her is evident in her voice as she says, breathlessly, "Been noticin' you notice us. Can't help it. You're so obvious, darling, I love it. Tina’s been eggin' me on to fuck you for ages. I jus' gotta have you– and you can call her Tina, love, you’ve known her for months."

"Oh," Andy moans, her eyes sliding shut as Mike nudges their mouths together, whimpering with renewed fervour as she, at last, gets to crush her tongue against Mike's almost instantaneously, shaking like a leaf when Mike sucks on it harshly and then draws it up to stroke over her palate. She gets manhandled pretty much immediately, Mike rolling onto her back where she'd sort of been half-lying on her side, Andy following her with a cut-off yelp as their lips part only for them to be shoved back together again by a hand curled over the cusp of her skull. Mike's palms then skate down her back as soon as they're kissing again, so aggressive in comparison to the calm little touches Mike had been giving her earlier, and she hoists Andy's hips directly over her navel so her legs are unfurled to fit Mike between her, her cunt throbbing beneath her boyshorts as she fumbles to find somewhere to hold onto, Mike kneading her fingertips into the fat of Andy's hips. Andy ends up coiling all ten of her fingers into the other woman’s dark hair, and Mike groans at the feeling of her scalp being tugged on and Andy gasps at the sound, craning her neck so their noses quit bumping together and Mike can better stuff her tongue into her mouth.

She knows she's unsteady, wobbling like mad, but she can't help it, sat forcefully atop Mike's naked body with their tits nudging together through the thin fabric of her sleep shirt, being given permission to pull her inky hair, being snogged within an absolute inch of her life. Mike's hands travel down to the globes of her arse, and then she gathers them up and squeezes hard, and Andy lets out a startled keen of pleasure, pushing back into the touch and nearly cumming herself on the spot at the sound of Mike's low, appreciative rumble.

"Gotta get you out of these," Mike says, in an almost dangerously hot tone of voice, and goosebumps break out across Andy's body as her mind suddenly goes blank with the substantial force of her arousal. Big fingertips are worming their way underneath the flowy hem of Andy's shirt, searing hot into her peach-coloured skin, and Mike starts yanking insistently at it, urging it over the bumps of her spine and her shoulders, evidently trying to send it flying off to the other side of the room with how hard she's tearing at it. "Wanted to rip your clothes off for a while, sweetheart, wanted to see those brilliant tits of yours. Come on, up, up."

"Nobody's ever called my tits 'brilliant' before," Andy can't help but laugh, and Mike chuckles alongside her, drawing one of her giggles out with a gasp as Mike finally wrests her shirt off and above her head once she lifts her arms up to help, throwing it aside, and when Andy spares it a single glance she watches it slide off the edge of Mike's bed and onto the floor. But her attention is quickly drawn away from that, because Mike's humming lustfully at the sight of her boobs and she abruptly feels self-conscious, wanting to cover herself up, but when Mike meets her eyes Andy just flushes and blinks, tangling her fingers in the other's hair to keep herself from clapping her hands over her nipples like that’ll do anything to disguise them.

"Well," Mike breathes, licking her lips and glancing down at Andy's bust before looking back up, "that's what they are, love. Absolutely fucking brilliant. Now c'mere, scoot a bit closer. I want those in my mouth."

"Jesus," Andy gasps, as Mike yanks her forward herself, sealing her lips over the round swell of one of her breasts, as much as she can fit in her mouth at once, sucking lethargically at it and hollowing her cheeks and glancing up to meet Andy's hazy stare for extra effect, flicking her tongue just to the side of her nipple. She whines, holds onto Mike tightly and can't even think to form any coherent words whatsoever, wracked with so many shivers that Mike ends up wrapping her arms around her back to hold her close and to hold her still, to shove her chest further into her face. Andy’s tits are some of her most sensitive spots, so she yelps and lets it trickle down into a restless moan as Mike sinks her teeth into one. Mike draws her jaws over her soft supple skin after letting go, and then lunges out of nowhere to bite at the plush circle of her areola again, causing Andy to really slap a hand over her mouth this time, feeling wet between her legs and screwing her eyes shut.

"Mike–! Mike, please, y-your– I wanna–" she babbles uselessly, alight with feeling and rocking herself instinctively over the firm shape of Mike's body, trying anything to get friction on her aching pussy. Mike shushes her tenderly, loosens her jaw's hold on Andy's tits with a final handful of kisses pressed to each of them, up the gradual curve towards her collarbone until there's colours being licked into her neck, into the hollow of her throat. She pushes her hands through Andy's feathery hair as Andy feels she's on the brink of tears, her palm gently being pulled away from her open mouth, Mike looking directly at her as she kisses there too, nuzzling into her hold.

"I've got you, sweetheart," Mike whispers, and then she brings her arms up Andy's back again to languidly roll them over, making sure Andy knows what she's doing before she does it. Andy looks up at her with huge eyes, a glittering sheen of ardour shining over the beauty mark on her cheek and the ridge of her brow, and Mike leans down to kiss her all over, stamping her lips up the contours of her face and everywhere she can reach, the side of her nose and the corners of her eyes, just beneath her lower lip, until she eventually jolts to meet Mike in the middle and seals their mouths together. Mike's petting down her sides to calm her, stroking up from her hips over each bump of her ribs and back again, over and over, and it's making her melt like sticky candlewax into the sheets, spreading her legs sinfully wide to make as much room for Mike as she can; Mike seems to enjoy this, purring something Andy can't make out as she looks down, propping herself up on one of her forearms and ghosting her soothing touch down to Andy’s thigh, over her underwear and to her knee, lightly grasping at her flesh before letting go in a repetitive way that makes her dizzy and so, so wet.

Mike's tits are sort of in her face, or, closer than they have been, and the crushing need to either feel them against her own, or to nuzzle into them the same way that she’d been doing with hers, it overwhelms her. She lets out a faint noise and looks up at Mike, pleading as she manages to bring a shaking hand up to grab at the side of one of her boobs. Mike looks down at her in what seems to be pleasant surprise, licking her lips, and promptly drops herself onto Andy after a bit of pitching forward, definitely not resting all of her bodyweight on her but resting enough for her to release a breathy groan, Mike's chest against her face and nearly suffocating her. She flings her arms around Mike as much as she can and shoves her nose into them, breathing roughly and thoroughly enjoying the feeling of being flattened by them, so swept up in her own world that she doesn't even notice Mike's pleasure-laden laugh.

"Like those, do you?" Mike murmurs, stroking over her hair, and she nearly sobs a yes into the other's skin, letting her wet lips smudge against Mike and inhaling as deeply as possible, like she can imprint this into her memory forever by the heady smell alone. But the sensation and the taste of her skin, the sound of her aroused giggling and the sight of nothing but faintly-freckled pale planes before her, they’re all too good to forget. "Mmh. As much as I'd love to keep you there, sweetheart, I've another idea for tonight."

And then Mike's pulling away at her own words, and Andy whimpers at the loss of it, trying to make a grab for one of her tits and succeeding before Mike smiles and closes her fingers around her wrist, pulling it away gently and leaning down to kiss her. She's about to open her mouth to petulantly complain, wondering what's so good about something other than being choked by giant tits, when Mike rockets a hand between her legs and slams the underside of her fingers down on where her cunt rests behind fabric, and Andy screams wordlessly, launching her arm out to the side to hold onto Mike's shoulders like she'll die if she doesn't. The onslaught is out of nowhere, and she gasps and mewls and pleads with Mike as the other woman rubs her fingers down through the line of her slit, and not even Andy herself had realised she'd gotten so wet, because she's soaked entirely through the cloth, enough for Mike's fingertips to pull away damp. Mike fixes her with a smug, assertive look, and she can only beg in response.

It's gone all at once, Mike wiping her slick fingers on the inside of Andy's trembling thigh, kissing her to calm her down when she hears the desperate sounds that push past Andy's lips. Then, she's digging her fingertips underneath the hem of Andy's underwear, giving her an imploring look like she's asking if it's alright, doesn't take Andy's nodding as a yes until she says it aloud, and then looks down as she gently shimmies the fabric off her hips and down to the middles of her thighs. Andy's self-consciousness eats at her again, and she turns her face into her pillow meekly, but Mike's low moan upon seeing her has her peering up anxiously, following the other woman's gaze down to her pussy. She's pretty much dripping, her pubic hair stuck to her seemingly in random places, rumpled with the extra attention she's just received, and she feels incredibly stupid for having not asked to borrow Mike's razor or something, for forgetting hers in the first place, wishing she looked presentable. Although– Mike doesn't seem to mind, at all. She still says:

"Sorry I– I didn't sh-shave." Mike looks up at her like she's just said something completely outlandish, a brow raised and a vaguely amused twist to her mouth, and she looks back down the length of Andy's body before kissing at the corner of her lips again and nosing into her cheekbone.

"Don't be ridiculous," she says softly, fingers edging dangerously close to the slick lips of Andy's cunt, her knuckles curling soothingly into the sparse hairs all over her thighs, the ones that coalesce into a thicker bush between her legs. One that, if Andy might be so bold, seems to turn Mike on. She digs her fingernails into Mike's shoulder and drops her forehead to rest on her broad frame as her thighs get kneaded, trying not to close them just from the bliss she's already experiencing and almost becoming frightened of how good she'll feel in a few moments, if only now, when Mike's hand isn't even technically on her, she's feeling like she'll cum any second. Mike keeps going, murmurs into Andy's temple after kissing the top of her head, "Every bit of you is gorgeous. You're so fit, Andy, I– ever since I first saw you when you joined the band, I wanted you. It’s jus' that I wanted to… make sure you wouldn't, uh… hate me for it."

"Oh– oh, Mike, I'd never f-fuckin' hate you– oh!" Andy gasps and squirms wildly as Mike pulls her back by her sunflower-coloured hair and wrenches their faces together, their noses bumping and their mouths pressing together frantically, Mike huffing bullishly and letting their teeth click intoxicatingly together with the ferocity of the kiss. Andy loves every single bit of it, arching up into every touch she can get with endless desire, having almost burst into tears upon hearing Mike had wanted her that long, because she was exactly the bloody same; ever since she'd laid eyes on her and especially since she saw her with Tina, she'd wanted Mike to pick her up and throw her over a table or a desk or anything, wrest her legs open and slam their hips together, kiss her until she came hard enough to lose the ability to think. Having that feeling returned makes her ache in a way she can't even describe, and she can only try and kick her underclothes all the way down her legs to give Mike more room to do whatever she wants with her, in some semblance of helpfulness.

Mike moans gratefully, swiping her hand all the way up beneath Andy's armpit, pulling back for a split-second and then locking their lips back together before parting for a final time, kissing Andy's sweaty chin and moving down, over her neck, her collarbone, licking a stripe up her sternum and sucking at the plump sides of her tits. Andy's hands slide off Mike and she instead fists the pillow behind her head, craning her neck up to watch the other's downward trail, having a pretty good idea of where she's going with this, heart hammering intensely at the thought of something she's wanted for so long coming to fruition. Mike is beautiful as always, as she drifts downward, leaving a path of saliva where she's been, kissing reverently over where her ribs rest beneath her skin, nibbling her way back to the line of downy hairs leading to the coarse ones beneath her navel. Andy's always had a lot more hair on her body than most women — if she's to use Johnny and her ex-girlfriends and every other fling she's had as a reference, even counting the ones who don't shave — and she's never felt too great about it, and shaving is often cumbersome for her, but Mike seems to be absolutely loving it, rubbing her cheek over the fluff and the fuzz, taking a minute break to rest her forehead above Andy's stomach and to just massage her hands into the blonde's hips, soft warm breaths fanning out over her dark pubic hair.

"Mmh," Andy whimpers, her neck straining so she can keep watching as Mike shoots her a glance at the noise, lips curling into a devilish smile as her tongue flits out of her mouth to drag through the progressively thicker hairs, biting spots on either side of her soft belly and making her jolt both into and away from the burning euphoria of Mike's teeth catching on her skin. Mike moves with her as she bucks, like she's used to someone writhing away from her ministrations because she's just

that

good at what she does, and it makes Andy moan louder, gives her another thought about Tina twisting and gasping away from her girlfriend, big hands holding her waist down into the mattress to keep her still. Andy is then supplied with the idea of being Mike's girlfriend, one of two, and nearly wails as that thought coincides with the sensation of lips wrapping around the bone of her hip, Mike pulling the thin skin between her teeth before pitching forward to gnaw at her, a low rumbling in her throat like she's growling. It turns Andy on so much that her eyes nearly roll back in her head with the fresh wave of arousal that crashes into her, something that Mike doesn't miss, because she instantly smashes more bruising kisses along the line of her pelvis with crushed snarls against her tongue.

Mike gets lower and lower, until she can rest her head comfortably on Andy's pillowy thigh, her hands cupping the undersides of each and her fingernails grazing against the curves of her arsecheeks, licking at the insides of her legs and making continuous and throaty sounds of pure interest, both wild and loving with her movements. Andy's about to fall apart at the seams, wants to wrench Mike's head between her legs and thrust her hips towards her face, to drag herself down through the other's waiting tongue, but she wants to keep her final thread of sanity in this moment, the rest snapped and broken by the shock of Mike actually wanting to do this to her. And it's more fun to wait, anyway, but the anticipation is bringing her to the verge of exploding.

"So beautiful," Mike whispers, looking up into Andy's eyes, leaning into the spot between her legs. Andy's eyes water and she shivers all the way down to her toes, as Mike intentionally lets her breaths curl out across every bit of her cunt, warmth curling into her and then floating away again, tendrils of heat sweeping along the stickiness there. Andy inhales heavily, chest rising and falling again in suspense. A practised motion, Mike licks her mouth until it glistens, sticks her tongue out and flattens it all along her lower lip before pulling it back in and over her teeth, sweeping it against the angles of the one above, leaving them shiny with her drool and scintillating in the low light. Andy watches, about to just scream for her to get on with it already, Mike's jaw working around something she doesn't care about, when–

When Mike smooths her tongue up through Andy's folds, from her hole and then over the hood of her clit, dragging so roughly that she nearly coaxes it out, and all the malleable skin stretches in her wake. Andy cries out, a ruined noise as her body jerks in response to the avalanche of stimulation in direct contrast with the none she was getting, and Mike's hands shoot out from beneath her to pin her down by her round hips, keeping her stationary on the mattress just like she wanted, and spit slips out from the corner of Andy’s mouth as fingernails gently scrape against her and Mike's fiendish tongue keeps licking slowly through her, keeping her pace intentionally slothful. It's driving her mad, and she realises that when Mike had been clenching and unclenching her jaw some brief seconds ago, she'd been gathering saliva to coat her tongue with, which she's now brushing against Andy, the silken glide made impossibly easy with bubbling globules of drool running down her pussy, her hairs clinging to Mike's sopping chin. Andy's fingers ache from how hard she's twisting them into the pillowcase, her mouth permanently fallen open at the sight between her legs, Mike's searing tongue rubbing along her, and she can barely breathe with the attention, thighs twitching and the muscles in her soft stomach tensing.

Mike's arms are thrown over Andy's legs to hold onto her waist comfortably, both keeping her atop the blankets and pulling her back into the hot press of her mouth, making all her attempts at speaking splutter and fail miserably, her blood rushing in her ears and an extra gush of wetness and a needy yelp slipping from out of her when Mike jerks her head to the side and bites at the curve of fat on her thigh. And then she's back at it again, the tip of her tongue questing over Andy's labia, spreading her folds open with a particularly accomplished manoeuvre, sucking at the plushness there and making Andy buck and groan. She draws one of her calloused hands in closer and uses her thumb to pry Andy further apart, exposing the ruby insides of her cunt, her clit, and she promptly rams her mouth into it, seals it over her nub and hollows her cheeks as she sucks as hard as she can. Andy sobs and writhes, trying to grind against her face and simultaneously trying to flail away from the white-hot flicks of the drummer's tongue. Fuck, Tina's been getting this treatment for how long, now?

She whines, hands flying from the cushion beneath the angle of her skull to grab at Mike's fluffy hair, tugging at her locks and urging her closer, the obscene slurping noises of the other woman's incessant mouth bringing her to the verge of total insanity, sweat running down her peach-hued skin in summery rivulets. Mike hums into her folds and Andy weeps at the vibration, curling in on herself with overwhelming levels of arousal thrumming through her veins, the friction burning through her like a raging wildfire. Her legs are trembling and her hands are locking up where they're slipped into the dark spikes of Mike's hair, her spine curving and her brows pinching over her angular nose, breaths clicking in her throat as Mike rubs her tongue through every part of her with calculated ease, swirling around her clit before squashing it and making her keen.

Andy's fantasies seem so far away at this point, here and now, Mike having fit herself between her legs with her head dipped towards her pussy, her body nestled over the thick blankets, Andy's limbs all bending towards Mike and her foot cramping up something fierce with how hard she's straining it. Mike dips her tongue after a moment, looking up into the blonde's eyes with some sort of impish glint to her own, the broad strokes of her face all ruddy with blush and sparkling with sweat and spit and slick, the very picture of debauchery and everything Andy's ever wanted combined all into one night in a reasonably okay hotel room. She pets her tongue over Andy's hole, chasing her mouth-first as she convulses, caressing the quivering outline of her slit, her folds smearing over her face and the stray bits of hair that hang forward scratching against Mike’s jaw. And Andy's begging, pleading, hoping she'll stuff her tongue inside, but Mike shies away from it, rubs her cheek almost lovingly against her pubic hair instead, rough and sticky over her face, and then combs it all apart from the heated flesh of her cunt, sweeps it away so she's able to entirely get to her.

"Please," Andy gasps, hips flexing powerlessly in the grasp of Mike's one hand, because the other one is suddenly busy nudging fingertips at her opening, Mike's hazel eyes looking up at her in question to make sure it's okay. She tries to relax herself as much as possible to make it easier for Mike to just jam her fingers in there, but Mike's still peering at her intensely and so she's mewling, "Yes, you– you can, please, please, just– please–"

The breath is ripped from her lungs as Mike sinks her entire index finger inside, up to the knuckle where it meets her hand, big and tough with the callus and already wriggling against her velvety walls, causing her to choke on the fullness and the warm, wet sensation that explodes throughout her body. She tries to fuck herself down on Mike's digit but she's two steps ahead of her already, pulls it out before working it back in, slow but not too slow, just the right amount of speed to make Andy grit her teeth and have her eyes glaze over, moaning, which rumbles low through her jaws. While she thrusts her finger in and out, keeping the rhythm to make sure Andy's comfortable with what she's doing, Mike sucks around her stretched rim and kisses at her clit, and then over her fuzzy hair, back down to pull her loose skin between her teeth so firmly that Andy kicks hard enough to worm out of Mike's clutches. Mike immediately seizes her freed leg and throws it over her shoulder and holds it there, Andy now slightly tilted to the side, and Mike cranes her neck to keep up. When she starts pulling her finger back out again, she furls it up and catches her sweet spot on the way out, making Andy scream.

Mike smiles against her, offers a gentle and soothing lick to the scorching skin between her legs, as she pistons her finger in and out with sudden swiftness and manages to hook the tip just right into that same spot every single time. Tears stream down Andy's cheeks and she thrashes her head every which way, as hard as she can without entirely hurting herself, her throat aching as she tries to get Mike to keep her finger there, to quit what she's doing just basically tapping against it, even if those lovely dense fingers of hers give Andy something she'd never even realised that she needed. Mike doesn't alternate between her tranquil kisses and her roughness, no, she keeps them both going at the same time, absolutely overloading Andy's brain with joy and bliss, her walls impossibly wet and her heart hammering loudly against her chest as she meets Mike's eyes in a daze, watching the other woman softly stamp her lips down wherever she pleases, over her pussy or the insides of her thighs, the ample flesh above her, the shelves of her hips. Anywhere and everywhere she can reach, it seems like she's there, even inside her, stroking her so good she feels like she's going to cum at any second; she tries to hold back, just because she wants this to last, but she's barely hanging on and she’s only spasming harder and harder as it continues.

"So pretty," Mike coos into her skin, wiping her moist cheek over Andy's leg, and it's then that she works a second finger into Andy's vagina, slipping it beside the first and making Andy's thighs close sharply, clamping Mike's head between them before she knocks them back apart, not even blinking in surprise at the feeling of being momentarily and abruptly trapped. Andy almost chokes on each and every one of her moans, squints through her tears and the sweat seeping down her face to keep watching, teetering on the brink of orgasm as Mike begins continuously rubbing her right where she wants, her eyes rolling back into her head with pleasure as Mike keeps speaking. "Every bit of you, sweetheart. And you're bein' so good for me."

"Oh, please," Andy whimpers with need, not even sure what she's asking for, but Mike seems to understand when she plunges another one of her meaty fingers into her entrance, three all at once, scissoring them as much as she can in the tight space of her core before settling on just slamming them in and out hurriedly, right against her G-spot. The squelching sounds are absolutely filthy, rushed, and the scraping motion keeps pulling more and more of the wetness inside her out over the rim of her hole, oozing onto the bed and Mike's fingers and face and the skin around Andy's cunt, and Mike swallows some of it down as she sucks dizzyingly hard at her clit. Tidal waves of pleasure break their way through Andy's body, from her scalp to her toes, and she squirms and gasps and moans and wails, and she prays she's not yanking too hard at Mike's hair because she just can't help herself right now. "Oh, oh–! Oh, Mike, yes, yes yes yes–”

"C'mon," Mike murmurs, against the pliant pink flesh of her, Andy letting out a helplessly long groan from past her clenched jaws as she thrashes, as much as she's allowed to. Mike kisses the soft lines of her pussy, grazes her teeth ever-so-slightly against her clit, enough for them to catch and for Andy to let out a hoarse yelp; Mike continues, "Cum for me, darling, I know you want to."

A scream pulls itself from Andy's throat and she squeezes Mike's head between her legs, cumming with a fierce jerk of her entire body and screwing her eyes shut tightly, clamping down heavily on Mike's fingers and feeling stringy fluid flow past the girth of the other woman's knuckles, soiling the blankets beyond repair without the help of a washing machine and as much detergent as humanly possible. Every bit of her throbs in time with her heartbeat, all the feeling centred on where Mike's touching her and suddenly sinking her teeth into the meat of her thigh for good measure, sucking a colourful spot into her downy skin and working her through her orgasm, fingers pressing into her soaking slit, not bothering to pull them out– because she probably can't, with the way Andy's constricting her. Mike's groaning faintly in the back of her throat as she laps up all the slick pouring out of her, and the fact this turns Mike on just turns Andy on that much more. She knows she must be whining, because she can feel her vocal cords buzzing, but she can barely hear anything with her pulse in her ears.

Cold, invisible sweat begins to bead over her form as she gradually comes down, panting like she's run a hundred kilometres in under ten minutes, chest heaving wildly, her hands slipping from Mike's hair as she unfurls and flops backwards into the bed with utter exhaustion, open-mouthed with half-lidded eyes as she stares up at the ceiling, pleasantly stunned at everything that's just happened. She feels like all the bones have been carefully removed from her body, and that she's now made of gelatin. Mike's fingers slowly become more uncomfortable than not where they're situated inside her loosened wet cunt; Mike seems to be a mind-reader, because she gently drags them out and wipes them on the inside of Andy's thigh, where she'd bitten and sucked, smudging the gooey liquid all along her leg but being mindful enough to do it delicately, and to keep it away from the blankets even though they're already destroyed. Mike curiously runs her fingers through the puddle beneath Andy as she kisses at her thigh consolingly, looking up at her with wide greenish-brown eyes and nuzzling at her fat, gaze flitting from the other's unblinking stare to where she spreads her fingers apart and watches the little threads of cum snap with the strain. She sucks those into her mouth, and Andy just barely sees it because she's still facing upwards, but she still lets her eyes flutter shut with a moan that breaks in the middle at the sound, the light slurping of Mike's tongue as she drinks Andy down. Mike presses a final few kisses to the inside of her knee as she scoots backwards, slow and breathtaking, before she slides up Andys' body and lies down atop her, Andy making a content sound at the weight and wanting to wrap her arms around the other's shoulders, but finding, with disappointment, that she can barely move.

Mike shoots her that winning smile, and Andy returns it weakly, closing her eyes as Mike leans in to kiss her properly, tasting her cunt on her lips, licking lazily along the backs of Mike's teeth and melting into the mattress as their mouths work in tandem. She can't believe all her once-useless longing for this exact scenario had come true, and it feels like a dream, like she might pinch herself and just suddenly wake up with earth-shattering levels of sorrow settling into each nook and cranny that she has, but when she purposefully bites her lip between her teeth (rather harshly) when they pull back to breathe, she's still here, in Mike's arms and under her, being eased down from the best orgasm she's ever had. No offence to Johnny, of course.

"You up for something?" Mike asks, voice quiet and adoring as she pecks along the hazy curve of Andy's jaw, stroking a sticky hand through her blonde hair, and she finds that the urge to tell her off for messing with her locks after she's just washed them is nonexistent because of her all-around joy. It feels too nice. Mike grinds her pelvis down against the bone of Andy's hip where it's hidden behind soft fat to accentuate what she means, and even though Andy thinks she personally probably won't be able to handle getting off again right now, she still feels fuzzy arousal coiling bravely in the pit of her stomach. Mike laughs gruffly into her neck before bracing herself on her forearms, looking up into Andy's eyes and saying, "If not, you're alright. No problems with gettin' myself off."

"Of course I wanna get you off," Andy mumbles, not having the strength left to go red at her own words, just bringing a jelly-like hand up to hold the side of Mike's face, thumbing over the expanse of her cheek and smiling radiantly as Mike pushes into the touch, eyelashes fluttering like the fragile wings of a butterfly. Andy kisses the corner of her mouth and her lower lip, nosing against her jawline and breathing softly, almost purring with happiness as Mike ruffles her hair and grins, kissing her back.

Their lips continue to meet, over and over again, wet and slow and slippery, the sounds dulcet and beautifully mellow, and Andy seizes the opportunity to grab at Mike's chest with her other hand, making a gleeful sound as she squeezes at her, one that Mike gulps down with a muffled laugh before she pulls back and looks down to where Andy's fingertips are snaking against the side of her boob.

"Jesus, you really do like those," Mike breathes, as Andy scoots her way down and wraps her lips around a mouthful of flesh, gnawing lightly at her tit and applying just enough suction for soft reds to start blooming beneath her touch. Big hands stay rooted in her blonde hair as Mike arches her body to accommodate the position, petting over her scalp and panting open-mouthed and sweet, watching almost lazily as Andy works her skin between her teeth and then laves her tongue over the soon-to-be bruises she leaves behind, closes her eyes in elation and rubs the tip of her nose against her bunched skin. Andy hums her affirmation: she

does

like these. She tilts her head up, presses a lingering kiss to the spot beneath the hollow where her clavicles meet, before she runs both her hands down Mike's sides, rubs her thumbs ardently along the irresistible slopes of Mike's abdomen to her hips and her thighs, kneads briefly at her legs.

"Tell me if this is too much," Mike says, kissing the flat side of Andy's nose, and before she can ask what she means, Mike's sitting up and shifting forwards to seat herself just before the swell of Andy's own breasts, bumping her pelvic bone against the cushion-like underside of her chin, Mike's sleek skin dipping beneath the point of Andy's jaw. Andy understands immediately, looking up at her and holding onto the backs of her thighs, petting gently over them and leaning to the side to lick a slow stripe along the valley of flushed pale skin in front of her, leaving it glittering with spit, nibbling playfully at the solid stretch under her teeth. Her eyes linger on the pinks and reds of Mike's cunt just to the side of her face, the other woman's chest rising and falling in a movement too rhythmic to be natural as she no doubt tries to keep her cool.

Something like this could never be too much for Andy, seriously, she's never wanted anything more than to be able to shove her nose between Mike's strong legs and be guided right against her slit, helpless but to go along with all of her motions, have her mouth slammed into her flesh. She kisses random patterns into Mike's limb to get that point across wordlessly, because she thinks if she tried to speak right now she'd only be able to whine.

Mike murmurs something unintelligible as she pets over Andy's scalp, something soothing and flickering with giddy anticipation, and Andy keeps all her actions gentle until Mike wants to take control again, shutting her eyes lightly as she sucks a path closer to where her legs meet her waist, slick lips sticking to skin that smells of cheap soap and faint streams of sweat. Andy inhales deeply and nuzzles against the crease of Mike's groin, worrying the looser flesh between her teeth and dragging them along that line, heart hammering with more budding lust as Mike sighs and thumbs golden strands away from her forehead. She can see her twitching out of the corner of her eye, glossy as her hips flex with the barely-restrained and blatant desire to rub herself all along Andy's face, one that turns Andy on like nobody's business. She wants her to, so painfully bad, but only after she gets to go at her pace for a while, and Mike seems entirely open to that idea.

When she rubs her mouth mildly across the top of her cunt and pulls at the fine skin of her clitoral hood, licks at the other side of Mike's labia and tries not to cry at the perfect feeling of what seems to be freshly shaven skin against her tongue, Mike curls her fingers even tighter into her bleached hair, making a low noise that vibrates against the wall of her chest and all the way down to where Andy's touching her, lapping all around her instead of directly against her. It's an impatient grumble, the tugging of her locks something insistent, Mike wanting her to cut the teasing out even if she seems to be enjoying it. Andy smiles fiercely into the groove of her thigh, presses a kiss to the bend of her muscles, wants to tug her into the lull of sex at the tempo she makes it, similar to how she was at Mike's just a few moments ago. But she relents, and lets Mike carefully tilt her head to the side by the aggressive grip on her scalp, lets the tip of her nose brush through her marginally sticky folds and closes her lips, without sucking, around the curling edges of some of them.

Mike moans at the fraction of pressure, mouth closed as it buzzes through the miniscule gaps in her lips, and Andy responds with one of her own upon hearing it, fuzzy against Mike's flesh and prolonging the gruff growl of a groan that had bubbled out of her to begin with. Andy squeezes the fat of Mike's thighs again before she sluggishly presses her mouth forward and plants a sloppy kiss right over her entrance, branding all the drool in a ring around her opening, trailing her tongue around it, savouring the taste of clean skin that sinks delightfully into the back of her mouth as soon as she's gotten a hint of it. Mike's breathing is ragged as Andy goes slow and steady, and she seems to be trying to loosen her grip and seize her harder all at once, her fingers intermittently slumping and then stiffening up again, crushing blonde spikes of hair between her digits. She pets over them for a moment, with shaky hands, to brush them away from Andy's face so she can better watch. Andy curls her arms around the dense shape of Mike's haunches, around the backs with some squirming on both sides, and trails her fingertips over the swell of them, wanting to kiss the life out of her when Mike whispers something gentle and loving under her breath before she cards her nails through gold.

When she presses the tip of her tongue more solidly against her hole, though, Mike pulls her head back with an odd look in her eyes and a sudden tenseness in her hand, and Andy frowns up at her in confusion, worried she's done something wrong. But the look Mike gives her then is comforting, and she's not trying to escape from off Andy's chest where she's exposed and excited, and she's still petting over her hair, so it can't have been anything serious, she hopes. Mike says, answering her question, "Nothin' inside. Not, um… not tonight."

Andy nods slightly, in understanding, and kisses just above her cunt again, smiling hard beneath her navel as Mike swears and chuckles, tucks a stray strand of hair behind Andy's ear and prods her thumb tenderly against her plush cheek. Continuing her ministrations now, Andy burrows her way back into Mike's silken folds and stuffs her tongue between them, huffing out breaths that blow back into her face and letting the strings of her spit pull through her flesh. When she hears a little hitch in Mike’s breath, the spot between her own legs throbs so intensely she has to screw her eyes shut for a moment, that stutter in her lungs persisting as Andy keeps going, sucking her way through each side of her pussy. She pays equal attention to both halves, rolling her skin over her tongue and then pulling it between her teeth softly, kissing the furled fringes, mapping her body out with her mouth like she's wanted to do for so long. She’s wanted to know every single dip and rise and everywhere that makes her shake with pleasure, everywhere that makes her sigh with a calm smile and lean into Andy's touch, everywhere that makes her giggle or yelp or writhe. She wants to know it all, and the fact she already knows how she tastes and feels in her mouth, how she doesn't like anything inside her (at least at the moment), how her big fingers feel inside of Andy, how she kisses and laughs breathlessly during sex– she feels like she's on cloud nine, her face glowing with heat and her pulse exploding throughout her body as she tucks her tongue between the lips of Mike's cunt.

She's learning more: Mike initially hadn't been anywhere near as wet as Andy was, but the longer she gulps down the gooey threads that drip from out of her and the longer she muffles her own whines into the other's supple flesh, the more of both come from Mike, more warm liquid purling inside of Andy's parted jaws and more stifled growls of want that she hears from above. She's intentionally avoided her clit all this time in favour of relishing everything else she can reach first. The salty tang of Mike coats her palate and makes her lick her lips with excitement each time she pulls back, before she sinks her tongue back in for more, but the next time she does it she curls the tip of her wet muscle under her hood as much as she can manage. Mike's unable to push down her gasp, and Andy wishes she'd just stop trying to act all tough with her cunt against another woman's mouth, delights in the noise when she gets it; she wonders if Tina’s able to get under that shell of hers, which Andy figures to some degree she can, if they've been together for however many years now, and have spent most of those days with one another flaunting that they're in love. She wants to see that, too. She wants Mike to be a whimpering, twitching, drooling mess beneath her touch, and, finding sudden inspiration in that thought, she pulls one of her arms away from where she'd wrapped it around Mike's thigh and brings that hand close to where her mouth is, presses her thumb into the skin above her pussy so she can peel back the hood of her clit, and seal her lips around it to suck, hard.

"Oh–!" Mike nearly shouts, and her grip tightens impossibly more on the back of Andy's head, seeming to lose control of her hips as she bucks forward a few times into the suction of her mouth, and Andy struggles not to grin around the firm swollen shape of her nub, flicks her tongue against it before popping off and kissing her there. It seems so sensitive– and, yeah, it's supposed to be, but the way Mike reacts is like she's never been touched there before even though Andy's well aware that she has, her muscles spasming and seizing up harder than Andy's ever have when she pinches her own clit between her fingertips, which is saying something. She fucking loves it, she decides, slamming extra pressure down on that little bundle of nerves as she holds Mike open, fruitlessly trying to draw her closer with the limb she's still got twined over the back of her thigh, pressing her lips down hard against her sweet spot.

It takes a handful more rough shoves of her mouth forward, of hollowing her cheeks and crushing Mike’s engorged clit between her tongue and her lips, until Mike's caving and letting go of her restraint with a shout, wriggling with her legs spread over Andy's collarbones until she can firmly grasp each side of the smaller woman's skull with her calloused palms, holding her face so harshly against herself that Andy’s nose digs into the velvety flushed skin above the top of her slit and her mouth is wedged even more tightly around Mike's clit. She complies to the wordless manhandling and sucks, jabbing her tongue against her in time with the way Mike starts to pitch herself forward like she's fucking her face. The glimpses that Andy can catch of her when she peers up are of her jaws clenched and her nose wrinkled, like she's caught in the midst of a fight, and not sex. It's startlingly arousing, and Andy squeezes her own thighs together with need, beginning to moan softly around what's in her mouth and knowing the hum of it is just bringing Mike closer and closer to orgasm. The pressure of Mike basically on top of her chest — she's not resting her full weight on her, she knows, because that really would hurt — makes Andy feel like she's being flattened into the mattress, and she adores it, being kept there with the inability to free herself, being used to get off. Something about it makes her mind feel fuzzy.

"Andy," Mike barks, grinding into the hot wet press of her tongue, and it's a warning and Andy knows what it means: she's about to cum. She works harder, coils her tongue around her clit, rounded throat bobbing as she swallows and lets her green eyes flutter shut, quits holding her open and throws her arm back around Mike's curvy hip, grabs a handful of her wonderful arse and squeezes with a feeling of pure bliss bursting throughout her. Mike's thrashing like she's possessed, and Andy's pretty sure the other woman's been holding her breath this entire time as her hips crash into her face, unable to let it out without the taut arousal gathering up in the pit of her stomach dissolving. The rhythm of her thrusting is growing gradually irregular. "Good fucking girl, take it– fuck, fuck–"

Andy moans, shivering all the way down to her feet at the words, and holds on for the ride more rigidly, fingertips digging into the plushness of Mike's thigh and her rear, feeling all her muscles tense as she snaps forwards into her mouth. She licks as quickly as she can at Mike's swollen nub, and when she goes as far as to squash it between the walls of her lips, compressed and caught with enough force to make anyone scream, Mike gives her even more than the reaction she'd been looking for: she chokes on the air she'd been holding in and curls swiftly in on herself, holding Andy's head towards her stomach like she's cradling her, body convulsing as she curves enough to drop her forehead to the cool surface of the headboard, and shakes through her climax with a groan that rips its way up her throat. Andy continues to clutch at her in desperation, her knees bent together and goosebumps rising all over her naked body, feeling extra spurts of wetness coat her tongue and soak their way down her chin, the soft underside of her neck, and she drinks up as much of it as she can in this position. Distantly, she notices she’s been digging her heels against the bed and arching up with the force of her own desire.

The sounds that fill the room then are forceful breaths, the rush of heartbeats, and blood thrumming just beneath overheated skin. Slowly, after the first shockwaves of her orgasm subside, Mike's hands in Andy's hair slacken and slip off, just absently scratching her nails through golden strands as she calms down. Andy lets her, wants it, and with her mouth still shoved up against her cunt she feels every twitch and throb over her tongue, breathes gently across her smooth skin and rubs the tip of her nose as much as she can into the space beneath her navel in a soft gesture, kneading at her fat. Eventually, Mike pushes back, pulls her hands away entirely and plants them on the pillows Andy had rested her head on, which are so squishy that they nearly give way under the strength of her brawny arms and she slips, has to readjust with a croaky chuckle. When she pulls her hips back, her glossy folds peel from Andy's lips, syrupy strings of cloudy wetness sticking to her face, and when Andy licks at the corners of her mouth some of them pop in the middle.

As Mike sits backwards, Andy slides her arms into more comfortable positions from off her legs, runs her hands over the indents of her thighs that lead between her legs, sweeps her thumbs lazily beneath the bulge of muscle, leans to the side and presses the wettest kiss she's ever had the joy of experiencing to the top of her leg and smiles shyly as Mike laughs at the sensation of it, dripping and warm. Mike rolls off and shuffles awkwardly down onto the blankets, so she's lying on her side, nestling an arm beneath Andy's breasts with a hand over her ribs, tugging her closer, pressing a lethargic kiss to Andy's blushing shoulder as she continues to come down from her high. Andy snuggles into her grasp with a smile, even though basically her entire face is still wet, and between her legs is too, even if that area's dried off a bit more– Mike still is as well, but the appeal of cuddling for a while before they clean up and pass out is way too great for her to protest this decision. When she rubs her cheek against the top of Mike's head, she feels her smile into the slope of her arm, which is currently imprisoned between her own frame and Mike's tits.

They lie there for however long, and Andy gets lost in the loving motion of Mike's hand gliding sluggishly up and down her skin, from her diaphragm to the outward arch of her waist, skating her fingertips over the faintest of furrows leading towards her groin, before they slither back up to the feathery hairs beneath her bust. Mike keeps kissing and licking her own slick off of Andy's face, so much so that Andy had started giggling at some point, Mike’s responding smile prominent against her cheek, Andy’s own eyes closed and her sharp mouth swept up into a grin. She rubs her thighs together some and then feels Mike's palm coast past her hip and to the inside of her leg, rubbing her knuckles curiously there in question. She makes a small noise in the back of her throat, turning down the offer for more, because as much as she'd currently be ecstatic for more fingering, she knows once she cums that she'd wind up regretting another orgasm she hadn't fully desired; she wraps her fingers around Mike's wrist, and the tips don't meet because her arms are just huge, and pulls her hand away from her crotch in favour of tucking it against her chest. Mike kisses her full on the lips now, threads their fingers together and squeezes, and Andy's heart feels like it could burst.

"I'll only be up a moment," Mike whispers after a few more perfect minutes, giving her another peck on the mouth after she nods. Andy tilts her head to the other side of the pillow to watch as Mike slips off the bed and strides into the bathroom, takes note of how Mike’s trying to look like her legs haven't been turned to jelly by the way she forcefully puts her feet down, and allows herself to take a significant amount of pride in the fact she was the one to leave her like that. She doesn't watch the way her arse and the meat of her thighs jiggle as she walks, no, she thinks about purely sugary sweet things, nothing like sinking her fingers back into that and spreading her open again to eat her out one, two, fifty more times. Water runs in the other room, muffled through the walls, and as she waits, Andy takes a moment to melt into the sheets, alone with her thoughts.

Which, her thoughts aren't many, if she's going to be honest, because they seem to have been mostly fucked right out of her, but she knows without a doubt that she's happy, like she's floating through the clouds and feeling like she's in heaven, and she presses the back of her hand to her mouth to stem the sudden rush of emotion that has tears welling up in her eyes. She's wanted this — being tangled up with Mike, their limbs interlocked like puzzle pieces fit together and their mouths meeting in dozens of saccharine and slow presses — for so long that she can't even believe it's happened, that it again feels like she's just dreaming. Her skin feels like it's all floaty and nebulous, like she might fly away at any given moment and slip properly into visionless sleep, out of the vivid fantasy that's been cruelly presented to her at a time when she feels like she wants it most, when her heartbeat picks up speed just at the mention of Mike's name or the thought of her coming into the studio, the sight of her from afar or behind her drums. She knows it's more than just the desire to have her legs knocked apart and Mike's fingers roughly slammed inside her, it's more than just the beginnings of the bashful want to kiss her cheek in public, because it's been going on long enough to flower into something more than puppy love. And based on what Mike had said earlier, it’d been going on just as long for her, and she can’t help but wonder: is this something they can come back to, or was it just for her to brag to Tina that she’d finally done it?

She throws her forearm over her eyes as her hand peels from the moistness of her lips, trying to keep her breathing steady to not look like she's having a meltdown after the best sex of her entire life, the rest of her body limp, just as Mike pads out of the bathroom with a warm wet towel held gently in her hands. Andy peeks at her from underneath the ample line of her limb, flushes as Mike smiles warmly at the sight of her, and lets out a long lazy breath as Mike hoists herself onto the bed knee-first, leaning over Andy's body with the cloth and delicately manoeuvring her around so she can clean her off. She wipes around her mouth and her cheeks, scrubs lightly over her chin and then the supple flesh on her throat, before sitting back to attentively wipe the mess between her legs away. Andy feels all soft and mushy as she does it, twitching slightly and making a face with the pressure against her cunt, and after Mike tosses the towel to the side she leans down to kiss Andy's cheek gently, settling over her body so their tits press together tight and the half-moons of their hips meet. Mike must’ve already rubbed a towel over herself while she was at the sink, because when their skin connects she’s dry and soft.

"Hello, beautiful," Mike murmurs into the corner of her mouth, pushing her blonde hair away from her face, the tufts that stick to her forehead tucked past her hairline so Mike can stare into her watery eyes. She frowns in worry at the sight, lips parting, before she says, "Hey– y'alright? I'm sorry if I– if it was anything I've done. I can leave, if you'd like–"

"No, no," Andy begs, immediately flinging her arms around Mike and holding onto the angles of her shoulder blades, tough fingertips clutching at either side of her spine as she rubs her forehead over the slope between her neck and her broad shoulder. "'m sorry, I'm just. I dunno. Nervous."

"No need to be nervous, sweetheart, everything's alright," Mike whispers, soothing, kissing above her brow bone and resting their faces together, cupping her round cheek and looking at her the same exact way she looks at her girlfriend.

"Will this happen again," Andy chokes out, unable to phrase it the way she wanted, like a question, instead sounding lifeless and thoroughly upset with the oncoming tears audible in her voice. At these words, Mike immediately seems to understand why she's anxious and holding onto her like she'll fracture if she lets go, and she presses a calming, slow kiss to Andy’s lips. She then rolls them onto their sides so they’re facing each other, painstakingly worms the blankets all the way out from under their weight to pull them over their frames, up to their midriffs, continuing to rest their heads together as much as she can with all the movement. She kisses her and then rubs their noses affectionately, swipes her thumb over the beauty mark on the side of Andy’s face just before her cheekbone, tangles their legs, and smiles reassuringly. Andy blinks at her, eyes large and liquidy, feeling fluffy everywhere Mike touches her.

"Of course it will," Mike replies, hand on the back of her head, punctuating her sentence with yet another kiss, this time below one of Andy's wet eyes. "So long as you want it to, Andy. I– I want you. In the way I want Tina, in every way I can. If you'll have me, anyway."

"I will absolutely bloody have you," Andy grumbles, on the verge of tears and far too emotional for a post-coital cuddle, unbelievably exhausted, and Mike beams at her like she's hung the moon.