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now! that's what i call music 69

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Charlie doesn’t knock, either.

She enters before the door’s even fully slid open, her hair in it’s absolutely cloying, bouncy curls and that irritating, cute little grin on her face.

Zari pretends Smash is worth ignoring Charlie for.

“Z,” Charlie says. “Z. Z. Zari.”

Zari presses down and a and watches Samus dropkick Fox into oblivion. “Hm?”

“Come on, Z,” Charlie says. “You’re not still getting all caught up in a little teasing, are you?”

Truth is, Charlie’s always going to give Zari a hard time, and Zari expects that. It lacks the acidity it used to have, replaced with a sort of friendly familiarity. Maybe too friendly. Too familiar. But it’s there, and it happens, and no, Zari hadn’t even noticed it, recently. “What are you talking about?”

She’s probably got another fifteen seconds before Charlie makes her presence fully unignorable. Zari’s certain  that the slip in her memory’s has got Charlie pouting already. It’s not entirely on purpose. Zari’s been wanting to laze around and play video games all day, and she’d finally gotten some quiet.

She briefly remembers Charlie teasing her about something over breakfast, insisting on eating all the scrambled eggs off of Zari’s plate instead of just getting her own, which meant that Zari had to get a second serving.

But she’s not mad about it, or anything. Mostly, she’s glad that Charlie’s joining the team for breakfast, unabashedly sitting next to Zari and flirting the entire time, over eggs and toast. Zari thinks about the way she’d pressed her tongue against the tines of her fork as a joke, the faces she’d make for Zari’s attention.

Zari’s pretty sure she’d laughed. Like, at least a little. She’s not really sure how Charlie got negative vibes from the situation.

“I think we’re cool,” Zari says, not taking her eyes off the screen. “I just wanted some down time.”

Which is when Charlie makes home on Zari’s already tiny couch, and puts her legs in Zari’s lap. She flicks at Zari’s controller with her foot, nudging at it until Zari relents and presses pause.

She turns, and gives Charlie a look.

Charlie’s already propped up on the armrest. “Hi.”

“Is there some kind of issue I’m unaware of?” Zari asks, though Charlie’s body language has mostly answered the question.

“I wanted to hang with you and you weren’t in any of the usual spots and you didn’t answer my texts,” Charlie says, like all of this has been drastically inconvenient for her.

“My phone was charging,” Zari says. She gestures to her nightstand. “It’s over there.”

“Oh,” Charlie says. “Well I figured I might’ve gotten your panties in a twist, somehow,  so I decided to come over.”

“Did you really think that?” Zari says, pointedly ignoring the use of the word panties.

“Well, not intensely,” Charlie admits. “But I did want the attention.”

“Right,” Zari says. “I could get you my extra controller, if you want.”

“I don’t know how to play those things,” Charlie says. “And they’re boooring.”

“I was… really enjoying the quiet,” Zari says, with the admission that it’s a lost cause.

“So we’re all good, then?” Charlie asks. “You’re not kicking me out?”

“Well first of all, every time I’ve told you to get out of my room, you’ve just made yourself more at home,” Zari says. “So.”

Charlie gives her a wicked grin, one that reminds Zari that she’s not sorry, she’s never ever really been sorry.

Maybe once or twice. But that’s when it had mattered.

“Take me out to dinner,” Charlie says. “I want Thai.”

It’s insidious, using Thai food against her. Charlie knows that’s an offer Zari can’t resist.

“I mean, if you insist-“ Zari says. She goes to brush Charlie’s feet off her lap and is greeted with a stern foot pressed against her stomach. “What?”

“I want an appetizer,” Charlie says. “Something to whet the palate, if you know what I mean.”

“Hey, do you actually want dinner,” Zari asks. “Or was this a longform way to announce oral sex?”

“It can be both,” Charlie says. “Anything can be anything if you believe hard enough.”

“That doesn’t even-“ Zari presses herself into the cushions of her couch. “You’re like, insatiably horny.”

“For you,” Charlie says. “You’re my catnip.”

Zari sucks on her teeth.

“We’re still not good on the cat jokes, then?” Charlie asks.

“Nope,” Zari says.

Charlie moves her feet off Zari’s lap, swinging her legs off the couch so she can sidle up to Zari’s side. “You didn’t mind when I called you kitten this morning.”

Zari feels a familiar heat prick through her arms, the hot feeling of anticipation burning up in her veins. “You can’t just say we’re getting Thai food and then do this.”

“Thai food later,” Charlie says. “I’m here now.”

Zari lets Charlie take her by the bicep and pull her off the couch. Charlie’s the only thing that can really get food off her mind. For a window of time, at least.

Zari doesn’t really tell her this, but she’s got these deep, needy cravings for Charlie, too. It aches just as badly.

 

 

“Always with the coats,” Charlie says, pulling Zari’s light jacket off and sitting her down on the bed. “And the thermals.” Her fingers find the hem of Zari’s shirt, lifting it over her head as Zari automatically, diligently lifts her arms.

Charlie takes a moment to get a good look at her in her bra, which is kind of thin and olive drab, and Zari, pretending her nipples aren’t stiff and sticking out, says, “You’ve already seen this one.”

Charlie’s grin is wicked nonetheless, straddling Zari’s lap and taking her by the small of her back. “Doesn’t mean I’ve gotten tired of it,” Charlie says, and she adds a kiss for good measure. She’s always got a bit of a bite to her, her teeth making a small push of pressure against Zari’s lower lip. Not quite enough to hurt, but enough to be exciting, and Zari gets the same shiver over and over, full goosebumps, small thrill in her stomach.

Charlie mumbles something nondescript against Zari’s lips, probably a fuck, moving a hand to insistently grab the hair at the back of Zari’s head and hold her there, mouth moving to kiss along Zari’s jaw and then the column of her throat.

Zari whimpers against Charlie’s lips. She’s feeling suddenly needy, longing for Charlie to pull down the soft cups of her bra or make quick work of it all together. The pleasure against her neck is always toe-curling, sensitive to an embarrassing fault.

“Charlie,” Zari insists, taking her hand and pulling it to her chest. “Please.”

Charlie nimbly thumbs at Zari’s nipple, grinning, using those teeth again to make small marks against Zari’s skin. “Impatient,” she says, sliding her hand back up to Zari’s shoulder, taking her by the back of the neck. “I need you like this, Z,” she continues.

Zari lets out a noise of protest, arching her back, taking Charlie into her own arms, tighter grip, more demanding and pressing. “Like what?”

“Mn,” Charlie says, and decides to shove Zari back, like she’d considered Zari holding her and decided she needed to take back control. “Wet, mostly.”

She is wet, very wet, and now she’s supine on her back and Charlie is doing exactly what she’d wanted. She’s smiling down at Zari, working her nipples between clever, teasing fingers.

“Fuck, Z,” Charlie says, voice ragged like she’s the one getting toyed with, not Zari. Not Zari, who’s so desperately turned on, tits so sensitive she feels like she’s gushing from having her nipples pulled.  “I need you so goddamn-“

Charlie’s hands pull down sweatpants, underwear, showing exactly what she needs, emphasized by Zari spreading her legs in appreciation and Charlie giving a sigh of relief from the sight of it. “Yes,” Charlie says, cupping her hand over Zari’s cunt. “You look so-“

Zari writhes under Charlie’s hand. She’s trying, trying not to swoon, not to be that helplessly and mindlessly turned on, but she can’t help it, not when she catches the look on Charlie’s face.

Zari’s clit feels so swollen she could start crying, begging for Charlie to touch.

“Sit on my face,” Charlie says, meeting Zari’s gaze with a sudden, breathless need. “I need you to sit on my face right now, Z. I need it.”

Zari responds very succinctly with a moan that kind of sounds like a sob. An excited sob. She nearly leaps off the bed as Charlie lays down, making quick work of doing exactly as asked and straddling her knees on either side of Charlie’s head.

“Oh,” Charlie says, gleeful. “Oh oh, hello pussy, my beloved-“

“Charlie,Zari says, bracing her hands on Charlie’s hips. “You need to fuck me.”

“Anything for your pussy,” Charlie says, and the first press of her tongue makes Zari arch forward, hang her head, fully feel the absolute pleasure of it. She moves her hands up and down Charlie’s hips, pushing up the hem of her skirt.

She’s going to get all over Charlie’s face, she already is, so wet that it’s on Charlie’s lips as she uses the tip of her tongue.

“More” Zari demands, needs narrated by how good it feels, the slick slide of Charlie’s mouth sucking on her, kissing at her labia to tease. She takes her time, always making slow lines between her pussy and her clit. Charlie seems to always revel in the wetness of it, seeing just how messy she can get, how she can get Zari on her chin, on her lips.

Charlie is careful how she kisses Zari’s cunt, how much tongue she uses when she’s looking to make Zari beg. She knows the power of her mouth, those faint licks that keep sending those sparks that make it so hard to think and breathe.

“Just your thumb,” Zari begs, feeling achingly empty. “Something, Charlie, please put something in me, please,

But Charlie just makes a noise of command, something reminding Zari of patience or equally grating, and it’s all Zari can do to lean further forward, melt into Charlie’s touch. Her hands have found Charlie’s inner thighs, uncovered under her skirt.

Zari’s mouth is achingly dry. Parched.

 

 

Her chin is practically on her chest, hair framing her her face in dark curtains. “Yes,” Zari moans, spreading her legs even wider, until there’s an ache in her thighs. “I want you.” It’s kind of nonsense, of course she wants Charlie, she’s sitting on her face, but the words come out of their own volition, insisting to be said aloud and desperately.

She flips off the plaid pleats of Charlie’s skirt. “Too many-“ She moves them. “Belts.”

Charlie gives Zari’s clit a nice suck for that comment, enough to close the remaining gap between Zari’s chest and Charlies stomach, letting Zari collapse bonelessly, her head on Charlie’s thigh.

Charlie always wears black underwear, and this is a good thing, a very good thing, Zari hyper-focused on the gorgeous black curls that poke out from under the fabric.

Zari’s whole body hums with warmth. Charlie’s begun using her fingers to edge her, a bit of pressure with her thumb, enough to get Zari whining with need, and then the finger is replaced with her lips, just mouthing gently at her folds, feather-light and absolutely torturous. 

Charlie finally moves her hand, fingers finding it easy to slip into Zari’s pussy as her lips part and let her tongue out in full glory, her sweeping, diligent tongue. Her mouth must be sopping, as wet as Zari is. She goes in and out, in, out, the full length of her fingers, and every stroke is better than the last.

One long lick from her fingers to Zari’s clit, and Charlie starts moving so quickly with her hand that Zari screams. She buries her face into Charlie’s leg, desperate to taste her but more desperate to come.

Her breath hitches and she screws her face tightly and the relief of coming is a flood, just as messy and wet as Charlie had wanted, a gush dripping down Charlie’s chin.

She’s gasping, entirely inelegant as her hands remember the basics of motion and pull Charlie’s underwear down. It’s just far enough to give Zari the room to dive into her, fully, take a long, lingering kiss of her pussy and feel Charlie shudder beneath her.

Her hands grip possessively at Charlie’s inner thighs, thoughts chanting yes, yes, yes, taking each groan of Charlie’s with a shudder. Charlie hasn’t stopped licking her. She’s working even harder than before, having switched to putting her thumb deep in Zari’s cunt and gently turning it with the slow, steady motions of her wrist. Back. Forth.  Her kisses clean the first mess but leave plenty of room for a second, keeping Zari’s clit covered in slick and spit.

She feels victorious, demanding, every brush of her lips against Charlie’s wet cunt, every time she sucks on Charlie’s clit and then switches to the flick of her tongue. Charlie keeps mewling, bucking her hips just slightly. Zari revels in the feeling of being on top of her. Charlie’s face must be sopping, mouth wrecked with slick and eyes glassy.

Zari spreads Charlie’s lips with her fingers and tongues her entrance, inviting herself to fuck with only the tip of the tongue, let Charlie feel the sensation of being fucked but not the full depth. Zari knows she must be craving it, but she so prefers giving her just the edge.

“Again,” Zari whines, bucking back against Charlie’s mouth. “Again.”

She’s so sensitive, she knows this, Charlie knows this, the steady thrusting of her thumb making Zari feel quivering and full. Her clit is throbbing from the attention, and Charlie still won’t let her rest, making sure to lick up and up and up, over and over and then pressure with the flat of her tongue.

Zari cannot, will not be outdone. She spreads Charlies cunt with her fingers and fucks eagerly with her tongue. It’s just as good as getting her pussy eating, tasting Charlie on her lips and feeling her cunt flex around her tongue. Controlling her pleasure with her mouth, getting deeper into her folds. She loves the mess as much as Charlie does. The satisfaction she feels as her mouth gets slicker, as Charlie gets noisier, more demanding. It makes her tremble against Charlie’s fingers.

There’s really no limit to how wet she’ll get. She’ll keep coming and coming and fucking Charlie on her mouth until they get too tired to even go out for dinner.

The thought of that, of poor Charlie all tired and fucked out, is enough to spur Zari on to greater heights, sticking a finger in under her tongue and then slipping her tongue out completely. Another finger, a third just at her entrance, just to let her feel the stretch. Her tongue teases against her fingers, delicate, wet strokes against the insistent fucking.

Charlie would shout, Zari knows, she feels the motion of her chest beneath her and hears the noises Charlie makes.

“More,” Zari repeats, and this time when she comes she rolls her hips, making sure Charlie gets all of her, all over her chin.

The orgasm is so good, too good, and Zari just has to fuck Charlie harder. She can’t take her mouth off her again, not ever, probably. Charlie is too soaked, too stuffed, too delicious to ever let go.

Charlie comes beneath her, whimpering, but it’s not enough. Zari laps up her slick, all over her hand, and it’s not enough. She doesn’t slow in her strokes. She needs it again, needs Charlie’s clit in her mouth right now, needs Charlie to writhe and scream in desperate, overwhelming pleasure.

They still don’t really feel like stopping. Even with fingers withdrawn from Charlie’s cunt, Zari is so content in her sweaty, lazy haze, still fondly licking Charlie’s folds. She loves the feel of the slick against her tongue, the feeling of Charlie mirroring her motions.

Zari hums in pleasure, moving one hand to stroke Charlie’s thigh. Her licks stay slow and languid, happily honed on the sweetness before her.

Charlie kisses Zari’s clit again, then the soft skin of her labia. She kisses with adoration, the only kind of quiet moments where Charlie lets herself be this exposed and tender.

And still, Zari wants more.

She starts with her fingers again, just the one, and feels Charlie moan against her.