LezBoobies

Dominica shuts her laptop with one hand while her mouth finds Macy's neck. They clear a desk together without looking, sending mouse and cables tumbling. Macy's fingers slip inside Dominica's waistband, nails tracing the tender skin just above her hipbone. A skirt rises fast. Lacy underwear hits the floor. Two sets of wet, warm fingers replace cold keys as the room fills with sharp little sounds they never bothered to muffle before. Dominica drops to her knees, tongue working in measured strokes until Macy's thighs tremble around her ears. When Macy pulls her up, she answers by sliding two fingers deep, curling them like she once curled command lines. Each girl knows exactly where the other breaks first. The monitors keep glowing, but both are blind to the glow now. All that exists is slick heat, the wet snap of skin, and the kind of quiet afterward when the last shudder has passed.