My Heart Can't Tell You No
Title: My Heart Can't Tell You No
Spoilers: Nothing past season 6
Rating: MA (mild language, and ladysex)
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Don't sue.
Summary: I don't want you to come round here no more, I beg you for mercy.
I don’t want you to come ‘round here no more
I beg you for mercy
You don’t know how strong my weakness is
Or how much it hurts me
‘Cause when you say it’s over with him
I want to believe it’s true
So I let you in knowing tomorrow
I’m gonna wake up missing you
Wake up missing you
-Rod Stewart, “My Heart Can’t Tell You No”
···
She is sitting alone, and she cannot even muster up the energy to feel outraged at her situation. She always knew that she was going to end up here, that this was going to happen, because this is what always happens. She is wrapped in her robe, sitting on her back porch, staring at the stars. She can still detect the scent of sex on herself, and she knows she should shower, but she cannot bring herself to do it just yet. She needs this, these few moments when she can still feel her lover on her skin, before she completely washes her away. She wishes she could blame all of this on Brenda, because Brenda is always the one who starts it, but she knows that she shares some of the guilt. Sharon is as complicit as her blonde Chief. Sharon always answers the phone, always opens the door, always pours the wine, always offers all of herself to Brenda, and is always left cold and alone. She wonders briefly how things got this bad, how her whole life turned into a cautionary tale about the consequences of not guarding your heart closely. Sharon has opened herself up to someone else, and Sharon’s heart takes a beating every time her lover comes near. And yet, Sharon always opens the door.
She could cry, but Sharon Raydor is not the kind of person who spends a great deal of time indulging in self-pity. She is angry with herself more than anything, and tears were never Sharon’s response to anger. She throws things, she yells, she drinks, she once beat a lover’s car with a baseball bat, but she does not cry.
She knows tomorrow will be no different from any of the days that came before it. Maybe she will see Brenda, maybe she won’t. If she does, Brenda will be distant and vaguely mocking, as she always is, though she may apologize in private. Brenda likes to think that she must participate in her squad’s tormenting of Sharon because she must keep up appearances, but Sharon knows better. Sharon thinks it’s easier on Brenda this way, if she can be one person with Sharon at work, and another person with Sharon in her bed. Brenda compartmentalizes, categorizes, identifies. It’s what makes her a good cop. It’s also what makes her terrible in her personal relationships. Private conversations with Brenda often feel like interrogations.
Sharon doesn’t hate Brenda for any of this, oddly enough. She understands what it means to be married to someone, and how difficult it is to keep that kind of relationship going. She does not doubt that Brenda loves her husband, and she also does not doubt that Brenda’s marriage is far from ideal. She sees the way Brenda treats Agent Howard- and Sharon must always think of him as Agent Howard, lest she humanize him too much and finally admit what she’s doing to him- and wonders if perhaps both of them might be better off without the other. Agent Howard needs a wife who will comfort him, care for him, consider his needs, and Brenda needs someone who understands that there is nothing more important in her life than her job. It is almost as if Brenda herself needs a wife, someone to have dinner ready when she gets home, to clean up after her, to do her laundry and comfort her when it all becomes too much. Sharon doesn’t fool herself- she knows she is not this person. Sharon has never been that wife, and she’s tried her hand at it twice before. She has three beautiful children who are the only good things to come out of either of her marriages, but she also has a lot of painful memories.
It occurs to her that Brenda will never meet her children, and Sharon doesn’t want her to. It seems her family is the only part of her life Brenda has never touched, and Sharon can’t help but think that this was purposeful on Brenda’s part. Brenda asked about them once, the first time they fell into bed together. They were lying in Sharon’s bed, still naked and still sweaty, and Brenda was running her hands over Sharon’s stomach when she saw the scar from the C-section she had to have when her son was born. Brenda had asked and Sharon had explained, told Brenda their names and how old they were, and nothing else. She sensed Brenda was almost frightened by the conversation. Now Sharon thinks spitefully that it wasn’t the conversation that scared Brenda so much as it was the idea that Sharon was a real person, with a family and a heart, a person who bled and cried like everyone else. If Sharon was a real person, she would feel the pain every time Brenda left her, and Brenda would feel the guilt. Brenda doesn’t want to feel guilty, so she tries to ignore these parts of Sharon.
Except that there are times when they are together that Sharon feels more complete, more like herself than she can ever remember feeling, and she thinks that Brenda has experienced the same thing. She has seen Brenda’s face, eyes half-closed and sleepy, as she talks about whatever she wants in the comfort of Sharon’s arms, and she seems so much more open and vulnerable than Sharon has ever seen her. And then Brenda slips out of the bed and pulls on her clothes and leaves Sharon alone, and none of it matters any more.
Sharon is already wondering when Brenda will call her again, and this time she doesn’t even bother trying to convince herself that she won’t let her lover come back. She will. She will stay strong enough to keep from calling Brenda first, but she will wait desperately for Brenda to reach out.
She pulls herself up, walking slowly back inside and heading for the shower. She is tired, physically and emotionally; she feels drained, as if Brenda took more than just her love. Brenda has taken all of her it seems.
She slips her robe off in the bathroom, and notices that Brenda has left her mark on her skin. She can see a darkening bruise on the inside of her breast, out of sight, where Brenda’s mouth took up residence while she fucked Sharon the first time that night. Sharon can feel the scratches down her back from the last time, and she knows they will sting when she steps under the water. It seems appropriate that Brenda has left her mark on Sharon. Brenda has claimed her, and Sharon has taken nothing for herself. Brenda has offered her nothing but these few nights, and Sharon knows that she should not- cannot- expect more.
When she steps under the water her back does start to sting, and Sharon’s mind is thrown back to earlier in the night, when Brenda showed up at her doorstep.
···
Brenda has already explained everything to Sharon over the phone, crying about how she can’t go on like this, and Sharon has offered her comforting words. By the time Brenda has arrived at her door, they are beyond speaking; there is no need. Sharon holds out her hand and Brenda takes it, following her. Sharon is heading for the kitchen, because they always have wine first, but Brenda pulls her back, throws her arms around her neck. Brenda is kissing her, and Sharon gets caught up in the change to their routine. She likes this, Brenda being sweet to her. She is made ecstatic by the feel of Brenda’s soft lips against her own, and no matter how many times she feels their tongues brush against each other, the sensation lights up her whole body.
“Please,” Brenda breathes against her mouth, and Sharon nods, knowing exactly what Brenda means. They will not have wine first tonight. They do not need it. Maybe they never did.
They walk to Sharon’s bedroom together, holding hands, and maybe this is the first time they’ve ever made the choice to sleep together so easily, so blatantly. At first they played it off as a drunken mistake, and then it was an accident, and then it was just what they did, but tonight they are acknowledging that they both want this. They do not understand it, but they crave it, and they will give in to each other.
When they reach the bedroom, it is Brenda who undresses Sharon, and this is not the first time, but it feels different. Brenda is moving slowly, her lips trailing down Sharon’s neck as her fingers linger on the buttons of Sharon’s shirt. Sharon feels the need to say something, to ask why tonight, what has changed, but she worries that words will make Brenda stop, and she does not want Brenda to stop. So she tangles her hands in loose blonde curls and holds Brenda’s head against her skin.
Brenda finally slips the white shirt from Sharon’s shoulders, and her lips move from Sharon’s neck up to her face, caressing the wrinkles at her eyes, the corner of her mouth.
“You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” Brenda breathes, and Sharon really cannot think of anything to say. She feels the same way about Brenda, about her face and the curve of her hips and the way her hair falls when she’s too lazy to do anything with it, but she does not say so. She fears that parroting Brenda’s words now would make them seem insignificant.
Brenda is wearing a dress and it is easy for Sharon’s fingers to find the zipper. She pulls it down as Brenda undoes the clasp on Sharon’s bra, each of them helping the other pull the garments free so that when Sharon pulls Brenda close they feel skin against skin. Sharon is kissing Brenda now, and Brenda’s hands are busy on Sharon’s breasts, her favorite place to spend the time when they are together. Sharon thought she had lovers who were preoccupied with her breasts before, but none of them hold a candle to Brenda, who could touch and kiss and nuzzle them for hours if Sharon would let her.
Brenda’s mouth has trailed its way down to the soft skin there, and there is where it stays. She is kissing, licking, nipping, sucking at Sharon’s skin, and Sharon cannot think of a single thing to do. She wants Brenda, wants her badly, but she does not want this moment to end. The longer it lasts, the longer it will be before Brenda leaves her again.
Brenda is nudging her backward with her hips, her hands trailing around the waistband of Sharon’s blue jeans, and Sharon follows the unspoken command. Their progress is awkward and jerky as Brenda is insisting on divesting Sharon of her pants while at the same time refusing to release the hold her lips have on Sharon’s nipple. Brenda seems as frightened of breaking their connection as Sharon is, so Sharon tries to be as accommodating as possible.
By the time Sharon is completely naked they have reached the bed, and they collapse on it gently, holding on to one another. Sharon starts to pull off Brenda’s panties, but the blonde stops her.
“I want you first,” Brenda breathes against her skin, and it is only the third time she has spoken, and Sharon still hasn’t said a word. She doesn’t know what to say so she kisses Brenda hard, pulling her head down, pushing her tongue inside Brenda’s mouth. Brenda refuses to match her level of urgency, however. She seems hell bent on moving slowly tonight, and Sharon doesn’t know why this scares her so much, but it does.
Brenda’s hands are traveling over familiar territory, tracing patterns across Sharon’s bare stomach, lingering over the scars she finds. They come from a knife, a bullet, and several surgeries, and Brenda is the only lover who ever acknowledged their existence. Sharon’s skin is a roadmap of her life for those who know how to read it, and in this moment she thinks Brenda might be the only person in the whole world who can.
Brenda’s fingers finally find their way to Sharon’s underwear, and this is more familiar, this is closer to what Sharon expected for this night. She is bucking under her blonde Chief, longing for her touch, and she hopes her own desperation will change Brenda’s tempo, but it does not. Brenda pulls the slip of silk away from Sharon’s hips slowly, rising up, following her hands with the lightest brushing of her lips against the protrusion of bone at Sharon’s hip, the length of her thigh, the bend of her knee, the dip of her ankle. By the time Brenda slides back up her body, needy little moans are escaping Sharon’s mouth, and she doesn’t even have the presence of mind to be embarrassed by them.
Brenda kisses her slowly as her fingers slide against Sharon’s folds, not pushing inside, not touching her clit, just feeling her, and Sharon bucks up again.
“Just let me,” Brenda says, not finishing her sentence, not saying what she really wants, because she knows she doesn’t have to. This night has felt oddly like a sort of penance since the moment Brenda arrived at Sharon’s house, and Sharon doesn’t like the idea of Brenda trying to right the wrongs she has done. If Brenda is sweet to her, it will be even harder to turn her away, and Sharon knows that one day she will have to, because she can’t keep doing this. She is falling more in love with Brenda every night they come together, and she cannot stand to love someone who loves someone else.
Brenda moves her lips back down to Sharon’s breast, sucking hard as two of her fingers finally slip up and inside Sharon. Sharon sighs at the slow pace, the feel of Brenda leaving her mark in such an intimate place. Brenda keeps a steady pressure against Sharon’s clit with the palm of her hand, and her fingers continue thrusting slowly in and out until Sharon is writhing underneath her.
“Please,” Sharon sighs, the first word she’s said all night, the first word Brenda said that night, and Brenda finally acquiesces, adding a third finger, plunging in and out of the wet of Sharon’s sex until she finally pushes her over the edge. Sharon lets out a cry as she comes, the loudest sound she has ever made with Brenda, and her lover seems pleased with this result. Brenda places one last kiss against the darkening bruise on Sharon’s breast, and murmurs a word that sounds oddly like mine and Sharon is too overcome by her release to feel affronted at the liberty Brenda has taken.
Brenda stretches herself along Sharon’s side, one hand resting against the cradle of her hips, her head on Sharon’s shoulders, her arms around the brunette, and it is the first time Brenda has ever held her this way. Sharon has held Brenda close in this bed, but it has never happened the other way around. Sharon is always the one offering comfort to Brenda, and the reversal brings tears to Sharon’s eyes. Tears that she does not let fall, because she cannot, will not, cry in Brenda’s arms. She will not let the Chief know that this love is breaking her.
She feels the need to take back control, and she turns over quickly, pinning Brenda beneath her. Brenda is smiling up at her, and that smile makes her want to cry even more, because Brenda is happy and she is not. She kisses Brenda because she wants the blonde to close her eyes. She does not want to be seen like this.
Brenda’s hands are soft on her shoulders, and Sharon’s hands on Brenda’s bra-clad breasts are not. She does not bother finishing undressing her partner because she does not want to be lost in the intimacy. She wants to make Brenda come, and then she wants Brenda to go ahead and leave, and not stay a moment longer. The longer Brenda is there, the more Sharon will want her there, and the harder it will be when the blonde does eventually leave.
Brenda makes a desperate sound as Sharon’s fingers slip past the barrier of her simple underwear and push inside her without preamble. She is not unhappy with Sharon’s rushing; Sharon is lighting her up, and her nails drag trails of fire down Sharon’s bare back.
“Do you know how much I need you?” Sharon asks softly, her lips only the whisper of a breath away from Brenda’s ear as her fingers speed up, and Brenda just moans and pushes her hips against Sharon’s hand.
Sharon’s thumb rubs hard circles against Brenda’s clit as her fingers force their way in and out of Brenda’s folds, building up the desire in her until she finally cries out and clenches against Sharon’s hand. Sharon holds her sex passively until the last tremors fade, and then slips off of her, laying face down on the mattress as Brenda gasps beside her.
···
Sharon steps out of the shower and dries herself slowly. She tries to avoid looking at herself in the mirror as she pulls on her robe and leaves the bathroom behind. She knows sleep will be hard to come by tonight, and it will be even more elusive if she tries to sleep in the same bed where she returned Brenda’s kindness with unnecessary roughness.
She is angry at herself for the way she treated Brenda, but she was right. After an acceptable amount of time, the blonde moved away from her, found her dress, and left. Sharon is staring at her bed, wondering how this became her life. Wondering why she is not the one who has someone waiting for her at home. Her home is large and empty, and the only time it truly feels like a home is when Brenda is there.
She is still staring at her bed when she notices a white piece of paper resting atop the sheets. She walks over and takes the note in her hand, immediately recognizing Brenda’s handwriting. Brenda must have left it while Sharon hid in the bathroom, not wanting to watch her lover leave.
Sharon,
I love you. I don’t want to, but I do. I wanted to tell you, so badly, so many times, but I know that you do not love me back. I wanted so badly to stay with you, but I know that you do not want me here. I cannot keep going on like this. This will be the last time I intrude on your life. I hope that things will not be awkward between us at work.
All my love, always,
Brenda
···
Sharon has cried until she can cry no more, and the note is almost unrecognizable beneath the stains of her tears. How could she have ever been so wrong? Why could she never see this before? Why could she never tell Brenda all the things she felt?
She wonders if Brenda will ever be able to forgive her. If she calls her now, will she be able to fix things? Is it even possible to fix what she’s done?
She lifts the phone, because she knows she will be unable to live with herself if she does not even try.
It is either very late or very early, depending on your perspective, but Brenda answers the phone almost immediately.
“Sharon?” she breathes, her voice a little frightened.
“Please don’t ever leave me again,” Sharon answers, and Brenda laughs through the tears that take her over at this moment. Sharon listens to her lover cry, and there are so many things she wants to say, so many questions she wants to ask, but she cannot bring herself to overwhelm this moment with too many words.
And so all she says is, “I love you,” meaning the words more now than she ever has before. Brenda will not leave her again, she knows, and all the doubts and pain suddenly seem so foolish in the face of the joy of being loved by the one person she needs more than anyone.
Spoilers: Nothing past season 6
Rating: MA (mild language, and ladysex)
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Don't sue.
Summary: I don't want you to come round here no more, I beg you for mercy.
I don’t want you to come ‘round here no more
I beg you for mercy
You don’t know how strong my weakness is
Or how much it hurts me
‘Cause when you say it’s over with him
I want to believe it’s true
So I let you in knowing tomorrow
I’m gonna wake up missing you
Wake up missing you
-Rod Stewart, “My Heart Can’t Tell You No”
···
She is sitting alone, and she cannot even muster up the energy to feel outraged at her situation. She always knew that she was going to end up here, that this was going to happen, because this is what always happens. She is wrapped in her robe, sitting on her back porch, staring at the stars. She can still detect the scent of sex on herself, and she knows she should shower, but she cannot bring herself to do it just yet. She needs this, these few moments when she can still feel her lover on her skin, before she completely washes her away. She wishes she could blame all of this on Brenda, because Brenda is always the one who starts it, but she knows that she shares some of the guilt. Sharon is as complicit as her blonde Chief. Sharon always answers the phone, always opens the door, always pours the wine, always offers all of herself to Brenda, and is always left cold and alone. She wonders briefly how things got this bad, how her whole life turned into a cautionary tale about the consequences of not guarding your heart closely. Sharon has opened herself up to someone else, and Sharon’s heart takes a beating every time her lover comes near. And yet, Sharon always opens the door.
She could cry, but Sharon Raydor is not the kind of person who spends a great deal of time indulging in self-pity. She is angry with herself more than anything, and tears were never Sharon’s response to anger. She throws things, she yells, she drinks, she once beat a lover’s car with a baseball bat, but she does not cry.
She knows tomorrow will be no different from any of the days that came before it. Maybe she will see Brenda, maybe she won’t. If she does, Brenda will be distant and vaguely mocking, as she always is, though she may apologize in private. Brenda likes to think that she must participate in her squad’s tormenting of Sharon because she must keep up appearances, but Sharon knows better. Sharon thinks it’s easier on Brenda this way, if she can be one person with Sharon at work, and another person with Sharon in her bed. Brenda compartmentalizes, categorizes, identifies. It’s what makes her a good cop. It’s also what makes her terrible in her personal relationships. Private conversations with Brenda often feel like interrogations.
Sharon doesn’t hate Brenda for any of this, oddly enough. She understands what it means to be married to someone, and how difficult it is to keep that kind of relationship going. She does not doubt that Brenda loves her husband, and she also does not doubt that Brenda’s marriage is far from ideal. She sees the way Brenda treats Agent Howard- and Sharon must always think of him as Agent Howard, lest she humanize him too much and finally admit what she’s doing to him- and wonders if perhaps both of them might be better off without the other. Agent Howard needs a wife who will comfort him, care for him, consider his needs, and Brenda needs someone who understands that there is nothing more important in her life than her job. It is almost as if Brenda herself needs a wife, someone to have dinner ready when she gets home, to clean up after her, to do her laundry and comfort her when it all becomes too much. Sharon doesn’t fool herself- she knows she is not this person. Sharon has never been that wife, and she’s tried her hand at it twice before. She has three beautiful children who are the only good things to come out of either of her marriages, but she also has a lot of painful memories.
It occurs to her that Brenda will never meet her children, and Sharon doesn’t want her to. It seems her family is the only part of her life Brenda has never touched, and Sharon can’t help but think that this was purposeful on Brenda’s part. Brenda asked about them once, the first time they fell into bed together. They were lying in Sharon’s bed, still naked and still sweaty, and Brenda was running her hands over Sharon’s stomach when she saw the scar from the C-section she had to have when her son was born. Brenda had asked and Sharon had explained, told Brenda their names and how old they were, and nothing else. She sensed Brenda was almost frightened by the conversation. Now Sharon thinks spitefully that it wasn’t the conversation that scared Brenda so much as it was the idea that Sharon was a real person, with a family and a heart, a person who bled and cried like everyone else. If Sharon was a real person, she would feel the pain every time Brenda left her, and Brenda would feel the guilt. Brenda doesn’t want to feel guilty, so she tries to ignore these parts of Sharon.
Except that there are times when they are together that Sharon feels more complete, more like herself than she can ever remember feeling, and she thinks that Brenda has experienced the same thing. She has seen Brenda’s face, eyes half-closed and sleepy, as she talks about whatever she wants in the comfort of Sharon’s arms, and she seems so much more open and vulnerable than Sharon has ever seen her. And then Brenda slips out of the bed and pulls on her clothes and leaves Sharon alone, and none of it matters any more.
Sharon is already wondering when Brenda will call her again, and this time she doesn’t even bother trying to convince herself that she won’t let her lover come back. She will. She will stay strong enough to keep from calling Brenda first, but she will wait desperately for Brenda to reach out.
She pulls herself up, walking slowly back inside and heading for the shower. She is tired, physically and emotionally; she feels drained, as if Brenda took more than just her love. Brenda has taken all of her it seems.
She slips her robe off in the bathroom, and notices that Brenda has left her mark on her skin. She can see a darkening bruise on the inside of her breast, out of sight, where Brenda’s mouth took up residence while she fucked Sharon the first time that night. Sharon can feel the scratches down her back from the last time, and she knows they will sting when she steps under the water. It seems appropriate that Brenda has left her mark on Sharon. Brenda has claimed her, and Sharon has taken nothing for herself. Brenda has offered her nothing but these few nights, and Sharon knows that she should not- cannot- expect more.
When she steps under the water her back does start to sting, and Sharon’s mind is thrown back to earlier in the night, when Brenda showed up at her doorstep.
···
Brenda has already explained everything to Sharon over the phone, crying about how she can’t go on like this, and Sharon has offered her comforting words. By the time Brenda has arrived at her door, they are beyond speaking; there is no need. Sharon holds out her hand and Brenda takes it, following her. Sharon is heading for the kitchen, because they always have wine first, but Brenda pulls her back, throws her arms around her neck. Brenda is kissing her, and Sharon gets caught up in the change to their routine. She likes this, Brenda being sweet to her. She is made ecstatic by the feel of Brenda’s soft lips against her own, and no matter how many times she feels their tongues brush against each other, the sensation lights up her whole body.
“Please,” Brenda breathes against her mouth, and Sharon nods, knowing exactly what Brenda means. They will not have wine first tonight. They do not need it. Maybe they never did.
They walk to Sharon’s bedroom together, holding hands, and maybe this is the first time they’ve ever made the choice to sleep together so easily, so blatantly. At first they played it off as a drunken mistake, and then it was an accident, and then it was just what they did, but tonight they are acknowledging that they both want this. They do not understand it, but they crave it, and they will give in to each other.
When they reach the bedroom, it is Brenda who undresses Sharon, and this is not the first time, but it feels different. Brenda is moving slowly, her lips trailing down Sharon’s neck as her fingers linger on the buttons of Sharon’s shirt. Sharon feels the need to say something, to ask why tonight, what has changed, but she worries that words will make Brenda stop, and she does not want Brenda to stop. So she tangles her hands in loose blonde curls and holds Brenda’s head against her skin.
Brenda finally slips the white shirt from Sharon’s shoulders, and her lips move from Sharon’s neck up to her face, caressing the wrinkles at her eyes, the corner of her mouth.
“You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” Brenda breathes, and Sharon really cannot think of anything to say. She feels the same way about Brenda, about her face and the curve of her hips and the way her hair falls when she’s too lazy to do anything with it, but she does not say so. She fears that parroting Brenda’s words now would make them seem insignificant.
Brenda is wearing a dress and it is easy for Sharon’s fingers to find the zipper. She pulls it down as Brenda undoes the clasp on Sharon’s bra, each of them helping the other pull the garments free so that when Sharon pulls Brenda close they feel skin against skin. Sharon is kissing Brenda now, and Brenda’s hands are busy on Sharon’s breasts, her favorite place to spend the time when they are together. Sharon thought she had lovers who were preoccupied with her breasts before, but none of them hold a candle to Brenda, who could touch and kiss and nuzzle them for hours if Sharon would let her.
Brenda’s mouth has trailed its way down to the soft skin there, and there is where it stays. She is kissing, licking, nipping, sucking at Sharon’s skin, and Sharon cannot think of a single thing to do. She wants Brenda, wants her badly, but she does not want this moment to end. The longer it lasts, the longer it will be before Brenda leaves her again.
Brenda is nudging her backward with her hips, her hands trailing around the waistband of Sharon’s blue jeans, and Sharon follows the unspoken command. Their progress is awkward and jerky as Brenda is insisting on divesting Sharon of her pants while at the same time refusing to release the hold her lips have on Sharon’s nipple. Brenda seems as frightened of breaking their connection as Sharon is, so Sharon tries to be as accommodating as possible.
By the time Sharon is completely naked they have reached the bed, and they collapse on it gently, holding on to one another. Sharon starts to pull off Brenda’s panties, but the blonde stops her.
“I want you first,” Brenda breathes against her skin, and it is only the third time she has spoken, and Sharon still hasn’t said a word. She doesn’t know what to say so she kisses Brenda hard, pulling her head down, pushing her tongue inside Brenda’s mouth. Brenda refuses to match her level of urgency, however. She seems hell bent on moving slowly tonight, and Sharon doesn’t know why this scares her so much, but it does.
Brenda’s hands are traveling over familiar territory, tracing patterns across Sharon’s bare stomach, lingering over the scars she finds. They come from a knife, a bullet, and several surgeries, and Brenda is the only lover who ever acknowledged their existence. Sharon’s skin is a roadmap of her life for those who know how to read it, and in this moment she thinks Brenda might be the only person in the whole world who can.
Brenda’s fingers finally find their way to Sharon’s underwear, and this is more familiar, this is closer to what Sharon expected for this night. She is bucking under her blonde Chief, longing for her touch, and she hopes her own desperation will change Brenda’s tempo, but it does not. Brenda pulls the slip of silk away from Sharon’s hips slowly, rising up, following her hands with the lightest brushing of her lips against the protrusion of bone at Sharon’s hip, the length of her thigh, the bend of her knee, the dip of her ankle. By the time Brenda slides back up her body, needy little moans are escaping Sharon’s mouth, and she doesn’t even have the presence of mind to be embarrassed by them.
Brenda kisses her slowly as her fingers slide against Sharon’s folds, not pushing inside, not touching her clit, just feeling her, and Sharon bucks up again.
“Just let me,” Brenda says, not finishing her sentence, not saying what she really wants, because she knows she doesn’t have to. This night has felt oddly like a sort of penance since the moment Brenda arrived at Sharon’s house, and Sharon doesn’t like the idea of Brenda trying to right the wrongs she has done. If Brenda is sweet to her, it will be even harder to turn her away, and Sharon knows that one day she will have to, because she can’t keep doing this. She is falling more in love with Brenda every night they come together, and she cannot stand to love someone who loves someone else.
Brenda moves her lips back down to Sharon’s breast, sucking hard as two of her fingers finally slip up and inside Sharon. Sharon sighs at the slow pace, the feel of Brenda leaving her mark in such an intimate place. Brenda keeps a steady pressure against Sharon’s clit with the palm of her hand, and her fingers continue thrusting slowly in and out until Sharon is writhing underneath her.
“Please,” Sharon sighs, the first word she’s said all night, the first word Brenda said that night, and Brenda finally acquiesces, adding a third finger, plunging in and out of the wet of Sharon’s sex until she finally pushes her over the edge. Sharon lets out a cry as she comes, the loudest sound she has ever made with Brenda, and her lover seems pleased with this result. Brenda places one last kiss against the darkening bruise on Sharon’s breast, and murmurs a word that sounds oddly like mine and Sharon is too overcome by her release to feel affronted at the liberty Brenda has taken.
Brenda stretches herself along Sharon’s side, one hand resting against the cradle of her hips, her head on Sharon’s shoulders, her arms around the brunette, and it is the first time Brenda has ever held her this way. Sharon has held Brenda close in this bed, but it has never happened the other way around. Sharon is always the one offering comfort to Brenda, and the reversal brings tears to Sharon’s eyes. Tears that she does not let fall, because she cannot, will not, cry in Brenda’s arms. She will not let the Chief know that this love is breaking her.
She feels the need to take back control, and she turns over quickly, pinning Brenda beneath her. Brenda is smiling up at her, and that smile makes her want to cry even more, because Brenda is happy and she is not. She kisses Brenda because she wants the blonde to close her eyes. She does not want to be seen like this.
Brenda’s hands are soft on her shoulders, and Sharon’s hands on Brenda’s bra-clad breasts are not. She does not bother finishing undressing her partner because she does not want to be lost in the intimacy. She wants to make Brenda come, and then she wants Brenda to go ahead and leave, and not stay a moment longer. The longer Brenda is there, the more Sharon will want her there, and the harder it will be when the blonde does eventually leave.
Brenda makes a desperate sound as Sharon’s fingers slip past the barrier of her simple underwear and push inside her without preamble. She is not unhappy with Sharon’s rushing; Sharon is lighting her up, and her nails drag trails of fire down Sharon’s bare back.
“Do you know how much I need you?” Sharon asks softly, her lips only the whisper of a breath away from Brenda’s ear as her fingers speed up, and Brenda just moans and pushes her hips against Sharon’s hand.
Sharon’s thumb rubs hard circles against Brenda’s clit as her fingers force their way in and out of Brenda’s folds, building up the desire in her until she finally cries out and clenches against Sharon’s hand. Sharon holds her sex passively until the last tremors fade, and then slips off of her, laying face down on the mattress as Brenda gasps beside her.
···
Sharon steps out of the shower and dries herself slowly. She tries to avoid looking at herself in the mirror as she pulls on her robe and leaves the bathroom behind. She knows sleep will be hard to come by tonight, and it will be even more elusive if she tries to sleep in the same bed where she returned Brenda’s kindness with unnecessary roughness.
She is angry at herself for the way she treated Brenda, but she was right. After an acceptable amount of time, the blonde moved away from her, found her dress, and left. Sharon is staring at her bed, wondering how this became her life. Wondering why she is not the one who has someone waiting for her at home. Her home is large and empty, and the only time it truly feels like a home is when Brenda is there.
She is still staring at her bed when she notices a white piece of paper resting atop the sheets. She walks over and takes the note in her hand, immediately recognizing Brenda’s handwriting. Brenda must have left it while Sharon hid in the bathroom, not wanting to watch her lover leave.
Sharon,
I love you. I don’t want to, but I do. I wanted to tell you, so badly, so many times, but I know that you do not love me back. I wanted so badly to stay with you, but I know that you do not want me here. I cannot keep going on like this. This will be the last time I intrude on your life. I hope that things will not be awkward between us at work.
All my love, always,
Brenda
···
Sharon has cried until she can cry no more, and the note is almost unrecognizable beneath the stains of her tears. How could she have ever been so wrong? Why could she never see this before? Why could she never tell Brenda all the things she felt?
She wonders if Brenda will ever be able to forgive her. If she calls her now, will she be able to fix things? Is it even possible to fix what she’s done?
She lifts the phone, because she knows she will be unable to live with herself if she does not even try.
It is either very late or very early, depending on your perspective, but Brenda answers the phone almost immediately.
“Sharon?” she breathes, her voice a little frightened.
“Please don’t ever leave me again,” Sharon answers, and Brenda laughs through the tears that take her over at this moment. Sharon listens to her lover cry, and there are so many things she wants to say, so many questions she wants to ask, but she cannot bring herself to overwhelm this moment with too many words.
And so all she says is, “I love you,” meaning the words more now than she ever has before. Brenda will not leave her again, she knows, and all the doubts and pain suddenly seem so foolish in the face of the joy of being loved by the one person she needs more than anyone.