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it trembles, but never fades away

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Kara has imagined freefall more times than she can count.
She’s imagined stepping from the towering heights of a skyscraper.
And.
Just.
Dropping.
She’s imagined how the world would fall away from her, fall past her, as she plummets.
She’s fantasised about the blur, the rush of air past her ears, the rush of blood to her brain. The time stretching away from her before she meets the sidewalk below.
And then.
And.
Then?
She’s never imagined what the inevitable collision with the earth would feel like.
Mais l'important n'est pas la chute, c'est l'atterrissage.
And kissing Lena Luthor?
Kissing Lena Luthor is exactly like falling, and landing, all at once.
Kissing Lena Luthor is exactly like everything, all at once.

It sends her blood rushing to her head, her ears ringing. She’s spinning, spinning, as everything rushes away from her.
Until nothing’s left.
Just the sound of Lena’s blood racing in her ears. Speeding up, speeding away from her. And Lena’s unsteady, hot breaths. Pressing against her skin.
And yet Lena’s lips are definite, gentle, but definite against her own. As though Lena inexplicably knows what she’s doing in the middle of this airless rush. And Lena is pressing.
Pressing their bodies together. Closer, a needy, half-desperate twist of her body.
Somehow. Closer.
Tongue, teeth dragging against her lower lip. Lena’s lips taste of toothpaste and a new, soft colour of desperation.
And hot, heat.
God, it’s hot.
The blurred space between them is filled with their breath. And Kara’s entire world is filled with Lena’s racing, trembling pulse. Echoing, reverberating around her skull. And then there’s a soft, half moan spilling out between them, which, Kara hazily realises, escaped from between her lips.
Lena’s hand meets Kara’s waist, curling into the fabric of her shirt. This movement is somehow softer, somehow more intimate than the press of their lips.

And Lena is pulling away, dripping one chaste kiss against Kara’s lips as she does so. Kara’s hips shift, a little needy, a little greedy, against the sheets. She feels Lena’s hand at her waist tighten, pulling their hips closer together once more.
God, it’s almost enough.
Almost more than she’s ever wanted.
“Is this okay?” Lena breathes.
Kara didn’t know she could feel this good.
Kara didn’t know anything could feel this good.
Burning, hot. Heat licking against her skin.
“Yeah, are you okay?” she whispers. Lena’s nodding, her dark hair falling, cascading over her cheek. And her eyes are greyish in this half-darkness. Pupils blown, bleeding, spilling over into her irises. There’s the blurred threat of a tear there too, refracting a heady cocktail of the cool moonlight and the streetlights outside the window.

“Can I…Can I kiss you again?” Kara breathes. And she watches as that singular tear drops down Lena’s cheek, and she nods.
“Yes, please Kara” and so Kara leans in, to kiss Lena once more. Lena’s whimpering against her lips, opening her mouth, doing something with her tongue that sends a fast shiver shooting down Kara’s side. And Lena pulls her hand from Kara’s waist, up, up, to rest over her heart.
“Your heart is racing” Lena breathes. And Kara pulling away, she’s tilting her head to the side, pressing a singular hot kiss against the burning pulse she can hear trembling against the almost translucently pale skin of Lena’s neck.
And Lena.
Lena moans.
Full, hot. Dragged from the back of her throat.
Kara feels Lena’s hips stutter against her own. Feels Lena’s hand tangle in her hair, nails dull against her scalp. Pulling her lips back against her neck.
“Fuck, god, Kara-”
Kara can smell Lena’s arousal. She can almost feel it pressing against the back of her tongue. Hot, heavy. Wet.
So Kara kisses, bites, kisses. Sucks.
Teeth. Lips. Listening to the way Lena’s heart starts to pound against her ribs, and the little moans at the back of her throat scrape against her tongue.
Kara drags her fingertips against the soft, soft, soft, soft skin of Lena’s thigh. Revelling in the intimacy, the touch of Lena’s skin.
And, Kara realises, a little distantly, she’s wet.
Lena’s shifting her hips against Kara’s body, writhing, moaning, head thrown back. Lena’s wet.
So wet.
She’s turning Lena on.
Lena is turned on. Undoubtably, turned on.
She pulls back, a little dazed. Blinking.
Taking a moment just to feel. To feel Lena’s body, the warm flesh of Lena’s thigh under her palm. Feel the hot air between them move as Lena pants, trying to control her breathing.

“I want, I want-” Lena’s voice is trembling, falling away from her.
Mais l'important n'est pas la chute, c'est l'atterrissage.
And so Kara pulls her back into a kiss. Something solid, grounded.
“I want as well” Kara breathes into Lena’s soft hair.
And then, there’s just this dripping darkness, and Lena pouring her body over Kara’s chest.
She straddles Kara’s hips as though she were made to land there. And Kara’s hands find a new texture of home at the dip of her waist, where her soft sleep shirt has ridden up.
And as Lena leans down to kiss her once more, Kara moans as their chests meet.
“Take it off, take your shirt off” she breathes.
“You too, fuck” Lena murmurs, her voice somewhere hot, stuck between a moan and a half-formed giggle. And there’s a pause, a brief moment of shuffling, as Lena pulls Kara up with a fist in the fabric of her shirt. And there’s hot puffs of laughter and tangles of limbs as they pull off their shirts.
And Kara can’t.
She can’t look.
And then she can’t look enough.
And Lena’s giggling, softly, and then pressing her backwards.
Pressing their bare chests together. Clumsily holding herself up with one elbow as she trails her fingertips over Kara’s nipples.
And every inch of Kara’s flesh is on fire. Burning in time with Lena’s pulse.

She’s arching, struggling, against the sheets.
And then running the backs of her knuckles gently against Lena’s chest. Soft curves, her skin smells faintly of sweat, and something so inherently Lena that it almost sends Kara spiralling away. Free-falling once more.
And her palms, and then fingertips, and then lips, meet Lena’s nipples. And the curve of Lena’s spine traces something beautiful into the clinging darkness of the bedroom. Traces something beautiful into the back of Kara’s throat.
Lena’s swearing, her hips grinding down into Kara’s.
They’re kissing again.
Messily now.

“Touch me, f-fuck, please, touch me.”
She’d never imagined that Lena Luthor could beg.
But, again, she’d never imagined that Lena Luthor would be on top of her, desperately grinding her hips down against her, pressing their bodies together as though she’ll never quite be quite close enough.
Closer, closer, closer.
Lena’s grey, half-closed eyes are rolling back. As she runs her fingers over the soft skin of Lena’s inner thighs. Kara thinks, in a hazy way, that maybe this is where Lena is softest.
And Kara moves on instinct, breathes on instinct.
Breathing in Lena’s pulse.
And Lena is wet. So wet.
Dripping over her fingertips as she brushes over her clit.
Lena makes a noise that is almost inhuman. A noise lost somewhere soft, between a sob and a moan. Formed at then back of her throat, as a tear spins a soft line down her cheek. Kara raises her other hand, and brushes it away. Pulls Lena down for a kiss.
Lena struggles to kiss, struggles not to whimper. Struggles for breath.
“Kara, Kara, K-Kara, Kara.”
Kara was wrong before, she realises. This is where Lena is softest. She draws imaginary circles over Lena’s clit, traces imaginary love letters.
And Lena moans again, dropping her head down to Kara’s shoulder. Her teeth meeting Kara’s skin, biting down, grinding her hips against Kara’s fingertips.
It’s somehow better, better than she could’ve ever imagined. Better than any fantasy freefall.
Kara circles, faster harder. She dips down, inside.
In.
Inside.
Fuck god fuck god fuck.
Insideinsideinside. Pressing, over and over.
Then slipping once more over Lena’s clit.
Kara breathes in the way Lena moans. Fasterfasterfasterfasterfuckfaster.
The way Lena’s hips move, desperately, against her fingers.
The way Lena still tries to kiss her, even as she moans, even as she whimpers. Against her lips. Breathing against her lips.
Lena is beautiful as she comes.
As she falls, falls apart.
In Kara’s arms. Over Kara’s body.

Then there’s a softer darkness between them.
As Lena catches her breath, and Kara leaves her hand in Lena’s borrowed sleep shorts, running the fingertips of her other hand down the soft ridges of Lena’s spine.
This is soft too. Intimate.
And Lena.
Lena presses her lips against Kara’s neck, again and again and again and again and again.
And again.
And again.
And Kara pretends that she can’t hear what Lena is whispering against her skin.
Not yet.
Not yet.
Not yet.

And when Lena looks up, finally, her eyes are dark. Soft, still soft, yet filling with something darker, velvety. As she runs her hand down the centre of Kara’s bare chest. And Kara tips her head back.
And whispers a promise to the stars.
A promise Lena pretends that she doesn’t hear.
Not yet.
Not yet.
Not quite yet.