An ace was a rush. Knowing that you can handle the entire enemy team by yourself gives you the racing thrill of superiority, the satisfaction of being better than not just one opponent, but six, all at the same time. Owen wanted to be the best, she couldn’t understand why anyone wouldn’t want to be at the top of the podium. Be it born of insecurity or otherwise, there was an inherent confirmation of worth when you have tangible proof of your accomplishments. Such things were intensely important to Owen; she had a nigh crippling fear of insignificance that ate away at her during particularly existential nights of playing UMDK. Owen couldn’t stand the thought of growing up and dying without her life ever having had meaning. It was helplessness that petrified her.
Perplexing then, that the intense helplessness that she was faced with as Aoife crawled on top of her was deliciously intoxicating, providing a greater rush than any team wipe ever could. It wasn’t all contradictory, however, her helplessness certainly did petrify her. Owen didn’t mind in the slightest though, giving no protestations as she was pushed onto Aoife’s bed after only a minute or so of exchanged kisses that progressively became less polite as they continued. There were no words uttered by either roommate as Aoife crawled onto her dorm bed and positioned herself above Owen. There were no words needed for either roommate as Aoife straddled her friend and gazed down at the timid woman beneath her. The wavelength previously established by Owen’s somewhat reckless words had done all of the explaining that either of them needed.
Aoife snaked her head down towards Owen’s face to immediately resume what she had previously stopped. Voracious kisses managed to silence Owen’s overactive mind, clearing the way for only a single thought to take residence in her head. “Was this really happening?” That thought didn’t last for long before becoming entirely irrelevant to her. Whether this was real or a dream that had been conjured by her codependency while sleeping in for far too long on a Sunday morning was entirely meaningless to her. It was happening, it felt real, and it afforded no luxury of thought. As Aoife trailed her fingers down Owen’s left side all thoughts gave way to pure instinct, the kind of adrenaline fueled state that she reached when she was playing at the top of her game in a competitive match. There was little consideration beyond what felt good, and how to more closely intertwine themselves in the sudden expression of simmering emotions. They had only known each other for around a month and a half, but they had only ever “met” a week ago. Even then, you could argue that Aoife had only met the “real” Owen two days ago upon coming out. But it was more than enough time for feelings to have festered, Aoife had been ready to begin a relationship with Witchofthew3st days ago based on a growing affection from countless nights of UMDK duos.
All of the unspoken words unfurled at once in the bed, not through any aural expression, but through somatic sensations all across their bodies as fingers traced down necks and hands threaded through hair. Owen moved her arms around Aoife to place her palms on her back and sink into the tantalizing touch of her friend’s hand gently scratching the scalp of her head. Her hands only rested on Aoife for a few moments before Aoife pulled her hands away from Owen so that she could grab her roommate’s arms. A sudden embarrassment flooded Owen’s already bright red cheeks due to what she could only assume was an admonishment of her behavior. But soon after clutching her hands, Aoife brought Owen’s arms together and wrapped her left hand around the wrists of both of Owen’s hands. With a swift descent, Aoife dropped her body back down towards the flushed woman beneath her and slammed Owen’s restrained arms onto the bed above her head and just below her pillows. The subsequent stare that each of them shared colored in the intentions and demands, leaving nothing up to uncertainty. Owen simply relaxed into Aoife’s grasp, relinquishing the control that she had offered up prior to their first kiss.
Aoife needed the control. Owen gave it freely.
Continuing her ci-devant conquest, Aoife pressed her right hand gently against the fellow gamer’s stomach. With a slow and steady approach she snaked her hand up Owen’s upper body to press and prod at every sensitive spot that she could, all the while keeping their mouths occupied in an arrhythmic makeout session. Her attention was split between the separate ventures underway, leaving Owen periodically desperate for another kiss from Aoife as her focus shifted and she forgot to keep the pace that she had set.
The onslaught of attention all across her body had Owen in a feverish fit of fidgeting. Every miniscule ministration from Aoife had her squirming and murmuring pathetically. But it was not enough to satisfy Aoife. Not yet. She released her grip on Owen’s arms with the expectation that she would be obedient enough to keep them in place. Owen kept her arms firmly raised above her as Aoife moved her positioning to have both of her hands free for any use that she required. A change of tactics was underway, and a new objective had become the focus of Aoife’s attention. With ravenous determination she pushed her left hand underneath Owen’s head to gently support the woman as she approached her true target. Aoife planted a soft kiss against the skin of her roommate’s neck as a chaser to the subsequent bite that felt like a shot to the system for Owen.
“Ahh!”
The sudden eruption of pleasure and pain had finally elevated her soft whimpers to a girlish moan that caused an immediate reaction within both students. Owen was shocked at the involuntary sound that had slipped out of her lips before she had a chance to stifle it; the noise was far more feminine than she anticipated it could be coming out of herself. Aoife’s reaction, on the other hand, was simple and sultry. She whispered softly into Owen’s ear.
“More.”
It was the first word spoken since the kiss, and it was stated plainly. Not that it needed any further elaboration. Aoife wanted more in every fathomable interpretation of the word. She wanted more pathetic noises from Owen, more desperate squirming, more glances from needy eyes, and more of anything else that she was willing to give to Aoife.
Owen was more than willing to oblige the single word command. For the next indeterminate amount of time, Owen shivered and squealed from the overwhelming stimulation that she received, ensuring that throughout the attrition of pleasure that wracked her body, she maintained the placement of her arms far above her head. Her sense of time has all but melted into the miasma of sensations that she experienced. Owen could hardly tell if Aoife had been biting her neck and tugging at her hair for a few minutes or an hour. She hoped it was an hour. She hoped it was three, or five, or that they could and would spend the entire day exchanging fervent kisses.
The only thing that pulled her out of her stupor was the sudden lack of pleasure and pain blossoming from her neck. When she opened her eyes to see what had ceased the heavenly experience she saw Aoife had pulled away. She was sitting back while still straddling her desperate roommate. Once she had Owen’s eyes firmly locked on her she grasped at the bottom of her shirt and began to pull it upwards until it passed her head and she could haphazardly toss it onto the floor. Aoife's heart was racing as she fought to keep her hands steady as they rested on her thighs. As apprehensive as she was, she had no desire to demonstrate any of her hesitations to Owen. She wanted to push her limits and rid herself of her ever-present insecurities. She wanted control.
Owen was utterly enamored and entirely transfixed on the sight of Aoife sitting expectantly with only her grey bra covering her entire upper body. There was a growing contradiction within her that rattled her brain the more that it took root. Owen was so sickeningly envious of the woman before her; she had everything that Owen wanted and it ached in every inch of her body when she thought about her own body and how disgusting it felt in contrast to the woman before her. But it wasn’t all envy. Within her, a second feeling fought against her shameful jealousy. There was hope. If the beautiful woman before her could become everything that she wanted despite hardships, then it only followed that Owen could also become the person that she wanted to be. Aoife was monumentally inspiring to Owen, the indicator that things could change, that people could fulfill the dream of who they wanted to be even when faced with incredible difficulties. You are reading on novelping . com, the official source.
Upon realizing just how awkward the absence of any speech or movement had become, Owen began to reach her hands down towards her shirt to follow Aoife’s lead. A gentle hand wrapped around her wrist to stop her from lifting her shirt. Owen looked up towards Aoife to ascertain why she wanted her to stop, her only assumption being that she was still expected to keep her hands above her head. But there was no reprimand for moving her hands, and there was no devilish grin across her face as there had been before many other sultry actions. Aoife simply stared at Owen while holding her wrist, a look of expectant concern that finally caused the gears to click firmly into place for Owen. Aoife had not wanted Owen to remove her shirt just because she had done so herself. Her hunger for control that she desperately wanted to satisfy did not stop her from evaluating Owen’s own comfort meticulously. Her own insecurities regarding her body made her horrified of violating her friend’s boundaries. But the simple smile on Owen’s face eased her fears. Her concerns were entirely dispelled when Owen grasped Aoife’s hand with her own and slowly pulled it underneath her shirt and towards her stomach.
The non-verbal communication made the moment feel even more intimate for the two roommates. Thoughts were heard exclusively through articulations of the eyes. It kept the room in a state of anticipatory silence where the smallest sound made by either roommate became the center of attention.
Following the unspoken suggestion from Owen, Aoife began to push her hands further underneath the shirt until she had it flipped up over Owen’s face. Aoife savored a moment of pause before pulling the shirt off of her friend’s arms and tossing it to the side. An involuntary shiver shot up Owen’s spine, causing her to flinch as if shocked on the side of her body. She began to consider just how few people had ever seen her without any clothes on her upper body. It was limited almost exclusively to the scant few times Owen had gone swimming throughout her life, with a few other instances in high school gym class before she had gotten into the habit of changing in one of the stalls. Those memories began to unfurl before her in painstaking detail. The epiphany hit her like a semi-truck. Suddenly the sour taste of the memories that she had never been able to pin down became clear.
Was this the first time, then? Owen didn’t feel ashamed or scrutinized like every other time she had been this exposed. She felt intimately watched, but the gaze that spilled over every inch of her body was kind. There was an understanding that coalesced between the two women. They were both exposing a vulnerability, opening themselves to a spectrum of possible reactions in hopes that it could bring them closer to one another.
Perhaps it was the tension of a mutual understanding resting on a thin layer of ice that had lit a fire in Aoife’s chest. She cut through the stillness of the room by dropping down towards Owen with her hands planted firmly around her wide-eyed friend’s chest. She slowly lowered herself the rest of the way until their bodies pressed up against one another. Skin against skin. Breath mixing briefly before the gap between their lips was sealed. Those sensations cued the next frenzy of kissing, biting, and moaning that encompassed the next fifteen minutes. Not that it felt anywhere near as short as fifteen minutes to the two roommates.
Their entanglement of limbs and lips ended slowly as the pace came to a natural conclusion. Without any sounds filling the space between them, the room grew quiet once more as the two women laid flatly on their backs next to one another. Their heads rested near the foot of the bed as they both stared intently at the ceiling. It was the perfect manila canvas, at least while it was covered in the warm glow from the lights in the ceiling fan. Had there been LEDs instead, the ceiling would likely be revealed to be white instead. The popcorn ceiling was the perfect place to transfix your eyes while waiting to think of the right thing to say.
“Do you feel better?”
A small smile spread across Aoife’s face. Owen had chosen the most avoidant way to start the conversation. Aoife reluctantly acknowledged that the question was apt, given the events that led to their escapades.
“Yeah. I think so.”
Owen felt herself immediately questioning Aoife’s choice of words. She didn’t understand what “I think so” could even mean in this context. Rather than stumble into a spiral of self-doubt, Owen blurted out her first thought.
“What do you mean? You think so?”
“Yeah, I think so. It was nice—I mean it was honestly mindblowing, but no amount of kisses can stop my dad from dying, y’know?” Aoife did her best to keep her eyes locked on the ceiling as she spoke. This wasn’t a time for tears.
Owen had broken her eyes away from the ceiling to look at Aoife instead. She could see just how conflicted she was, how her eyes remained locked on the ceiling with swirling doubt in her irises. There wasn’t a single reassurance that Owen could think to say.
“It knocked me out of that spiral though, I’ll give you that. It would have been a lot worse if you hadn’t been here. So…” The sudden percipience of just how blithe she had been hit her like a cartoonish anvil to the skull. The two had just shared one of the most intimate moments either of them had experienced in years, but Aoife had only been able to address the looming fears of her family rather than the woman who anxiously laid aside her. “Yeah. I feel better.” Aoife’s smile spread into a smirk, one that was very easy for Owen to see as she monitored Aoife’s expressions intently.
“So… should we talk about everything else? The uh- whatever you would call what we just did?” Owen asked with heaping amounts of apprehension. Read this novel at g.com for the best experience.
“We probably should. But I’d rather not. Not while I’ve got all of these other things occupying my mind, at least.”
“Oh. Yeah that makes sense. Did you want to talk about those things then? It sounds like it’d be better to get those feelings out rather than holding them close to your chest all the time.”
“Would you rather I hold something else close to my chest instead?” Aoife finally pulled her gaze away from the ceiling to look at Owen, whose face was rapidly shifting colors.
“Uhh-” If Owen’s emotions could be accurately condensed into a pinball, it would be reaching unprecedented high scores with how rapidly it was flung across the machine. Her whole face flushed as she raced to keep up with the unpredictable pace of Aoife’s conversation. She couldn’t determine if she was supposed to be horny, therapeutic, or a seemingly contradictory mixture of both.
“Ugh, I’m sorry. I just—I’ve always had issues with this sort of shit. I’ve got a pretty solid knack for ruining intimacy the moment I start running my mouth. It resulted in the implosion of many a relationship. I just can’t seem to handle a serious moment without-”
“Relationship? Is that… how you see this? …or something you’d want?” A gripping paralysis struck Owen everywhere aside from her face as she hesitantly asked the highest stake question that she could.
“Fuck. See that’s what I mean! I didn’t mean to-”
“I-I’m sorry I shouldn’t have-”
“No I just hadn’t—I didn’t expect any of this to happen today! I haven’t been able to think about anything yet and I don’t want to fuck it up already! Not that it’s even started yet, but you… you get what I mean.” Aoife quickly twisted herself to the side to slide off of the bed and snatch her shirt from the floor. “I hope.” Her muttered words as she walked away from the bed were more for herself, barely audible to a very stunned and baffled Owen.
“I just need to fuck off for a bit to rearrange my thoughts. I promise it isn’t you, I just have far too much going through my head right now and I need to be alone.” Aoife was rapidly adjusting herself, tucking her shirt in, peeling back her hair from her face to loosely place it back to where it should have been, and glancing at the mirror placed close to their dorm room door to wipe away smeared lipstick that had stained her face in their novel makeout. She barely remembered to snatch her purse before wrapping her hand firmly around the knob and pausing. She turned her face towards Owen at an insufficient angle, enough to clarify her intent to address her roommate without letting her face into view. “I think you’re a beautiful woman, Witch.”
Owen couldn’t tear her eyes from the door after Aoife had left. She laid in her (girl?)friend’s bed with cool air drifting across her exposed body, the recent words echoing around in her mind so much that it almost hurt.
“Beautiful woman…”