Morning After

Morning sun cuts across Fawn's bed. She brings Amelia warm tea and watches her lips meet the cup. One sip, then Amelia leans in, mouth tasting of leaves and heat, and the kiss tips them forward. Teacups forgotten. Sheets flung back. Fawn slides down, tongue parting the dense curls between Amelia's thighs, tasting sweat and sleep, circling the swollen ridge until Amelia's breath catches. Two fingers follow, pressing upward in steady strokes while Fawn's mouth stays locked and sucking. Amelia shudders, comes with a quick, guttural cry. Then she flips Fawn onto her back, buries her face between smooth thighs, tongue flat and insistent, fingers slick inside. Fawn's hips lift off the mattress; she cries out once, sharp and helpless, and comes in a long, rolling wave that leaves her shaking against the pillow.