Every Minute We Have Left

Brooke presses her forehead to Skye's. They both know what happens at midnight. The government tech can rewrite desires, wipe them clean, the way it did with every other forbidden thing. Skye shakes her head, still refusing to believe. Brooke has already seen the proof in older cases, in older lovers. No argument changes the truth. The world simply won't let them keep this. So they strip the clothes away themselves. Skye slides Brooke's bra down, cups the heavy breasts with both hands, thumbs grazing stiff nipples. Brooke answers by easing Skye's top over her head, letting her own full tits press bare against the younger woman's. Their mouths meet between every layer that drops to the floor. Brooke sinks first. She parts Skye's thighs and seals her lips around the slick heat waiting there, tongue working in slow, deliberate strokes that pull soft gasps from Skye's throat. Skye answers by pulling Brooke up, rolling her onto her back, spreading her open in return. Her fingers slip inside, pumping steady and deep while her tongue circles the swollen clit above them. Brooke's hips rise, chase each thrust, and Skye curls her fingers just enough to make the older woman shake. They trade places again and again. Brooke sucks greedily at Skye's pussy like she means to memorize the taste, while Skye's fingers stay buried inside her, never letting up. Their bodies stay close, sweat mixing, breath shared. Neither looks at the clock. The seconds still race toward midnight, but every second they can still feel each other is theirs.