Dear Abby (6 page)

But she's also beautiful.
Beautiful
in a way that Abby isn't, because she
means
something.
It
has
to
mean something. Abby is desperate for it to mean something.
Ixazaluoh
wouldn't have come back if she didn't want it to mean something… right?

Ixazaluoh
lifts the bottle by
the neck, wraps her lips around the head and takes a swig. She leans down and
Abby opens her mouth, accepting the warmed liquor in a stinging kiss.

"From my lips unto yours,"
Ixazaluoh
whispers, first taking Abby's top lip between her
own, and then her bottom one.

"Teach me," Abby says back.
"What you did to me, in the closet? Teach me how to do it.
For you."

Ixazaluoh
slides over her,
pressing her down into the duvet, ankles, knees, hips, breasts aligned, then
hands pulling Abby's up, guiding them to the clasp of her bra. "No,"
Ixazaluoh
says. "No, now is for me to worship
you."

"But I want—" Abby protests,
unhooking the clasp.

Ixazaluoh
cuts her off by
thrusting her tongue into Abby's mouth. She curls it along the back of Abby's
teeth, mapping each one by touch and Abby groans, arching up off the bed.
Ixazaluoh
grabs both
of her wrists, pinning her back against the mattress, sliding her strong thighs
along the outside of Abby's and sitting on her pelvis.
She kisses Abby
fiercely, possessively, and all Abby can do is lay back and open her mouth and
let her in. Let her have everything.

Held down and worshipped
, Abby thinks.
Oh
god.

"Stay still,"
Ixazaluoh
hisses, her tongue skittering across Abby's cheek. She nips at the lobe of
Abby's ear, and then closes her mouth around the cord of muscle that stands out
of Abby's throat when she turns her head to the side, offering, begging with
actions because the words keep dying half-formed in the back of her mouth,
emerging as misshapen moans.

Abby rolls her hips, aiming for the scratch
of lace, trying to get
some
pressure, friction, god,
anything
for
that aching gap between her legs.

"Still!"
Ixazaluoh
hisses and bites down hard.

Abby jerks like someone has hooked every
nerve ending she's got to an electrode.
Ixazaluoh
goes heavy and silent above her, like a statue suddenly reverted to its stone
form. Abby takes a deep breath, every inch of her screaming for connection, and
goes very, very still in response.

She takes shallow breaths then, barely
moving, chemicals swirling through her body like a maelstrom, urging her to
taste and buck and grind. She closes her eyes and concentrates on the sensation
of
Ixazaluoh's
nipples snugged into the valley
between her own breasts, of smooth, hairless skin, of the comforting weight of
another human being over her, on her, around her. She licks her lips and tastes
honey and
Ixazaluoh
. She inhales through her nose and
smells
Ixazaluoh
.
Every sense,
every pore, every part of her surrounded, safe; covered, enclosed, protected.

Sweat prickles against Abby's hair line,
evaporating. Sunlight pools on their feet and slides, slowly, gently up their
legs like a glowing blanket.
Warm and safe.

Gently, slowly,
Ixazaluoh
takes her teeth out of Abby's skin. She kisses the hurt, licks, nibbles, sucks
and Abby makes a sound high in her nose at the sheer fucking
pleasure
of
it, but otherwise doesn't move.

"Good girl,"
Ixazaluoh
whispers when she leans back.
"My good girl."

She kisses Abby sweetly, softly. And Abby
just lays still and lets her, too blissed out on endorphins and so goddamn
close to her climax that all she can do is
feel
.

"Did you enjoy that?"
Ixazaluoh
asks, and reaches back. She brushes Abby's slit
with two small fingers and grins.
"Oh, my goodness!
You really did."

Abby rolls her hips towards the transient
touch. "More," she begs. "Please, please, please I'm so… so…
close."

Ixazaluoh
shimmies out of her
underwear, keeping as much of her skin in contact with Abby's as possible.

"Abby, Abby, Abby,"
Ixazaluoh
whispers, like a mantra, the puffs of cool breath
wafting across Abby's neck.
"Abigail what?
Tell
me."

"
Willams
,"
Abby pants. "Abigail Irene Williams. How did you know my name to start
with?"

"Hotel
registry."

Abby thinks maybe if she didn't have
someone's hand halfway up her she'd pursue the small ping of
That
doesn't seem true
that forms in the back of her brain. But then
Ixazaluoh
twists her fingers and god fucking damn it that
feels
good
, and it wipes away any and all coherent
thought that is trying to accumulate in Abby's head.

Ixazaluoh
lets go of her
wrists, but her eyes pin them in place all the same.
Don't move
, the
gaze tells Abby.

Abby shivers with want. She wants to run, to
see if
Ixazaluoh
will chase her. Wants to wiggle out
from under her and leap across the lawns naked, like a gazelle, and hear
Ixazaluoh's
footfalls behind her, know that she is
outclassed and outdistanced, but run all the same for the sheer joy of being
caught, and held down, held
fast
and forced to come, and come, and come.

But she keeps her hands splayed beside her
head because here, right now, she is already caught and she has nowhere to go.
The thought makes all the muscles in her stomach flutter, a deep, warm heat
pooling at the lips of her slit.

"Up, up,"
Ixazaluoh
urges, sliding one hand under Abby's ass, squeezing the generous curve, and
urging her thigh upwards. She hooks Abby's ankle over her shoulder, kisses up
and down her ticklish instep, licks the sweat from behind her knee, and Abby
shivers and giggles at the probing, wet little thing.

At first she thinks
Ixazaluoh
is going to dip her head and eat her out again, for as much as she can think at
all like this, but then her not-goddess slides her pussy up Abby's other thigh,
leaving a trail of warm moisture in her wake that causes goose bumps to spring
up on Abby's skin, and slots their crotches together. She looks down on Abby
with those glitter dark eyes peering from between long, messy locks. The tips
of her hair curl so perfectly around her breasts that she looks like they were
placed there by a photographer.

"Oh!" Abby can't help but gasp.

It’s like a kiss. Actually, it's exactly like
a kiss; lips pushing and overlapping, the warm wet beyond. There's even the
soft prickle of hair, like when she kisses men with beards.
Ixazaluoh
is
au
natural
and it makes her beautiful,
womanly. It is slick and wonderful, the best kiss anyone has ever given Abby in
her life. Only she's not kissing with her mouth.

"H-holy fucking
fuck,
" Abby
sighs.
Ixazaluoh
grinds her pelvic bone against
Abby's clit in reply and Abby screams, jerking and writhing under her lover.

And then
Ixazaluoh
begins to thrust. It's not at all like when a man does it, no hard slap of
balls against her ass, no loss of contact,
no
single
point of sensation. It is broad, and wet, and there is no respite, no
microseconds of rest as he pulls out to prepare for another thrust. It is
relentless gyrating, pushing Abby's tailbone into the mattress, spreading
moisture all up their stomachs and down their thighs, pressure and friction,
the drag of skin on skin and it’s wonderful,
it's
everything.

Abby wants this, only this, for the rest of
her life. She wants to live in this moment forever. She wants to let
Ixazaluoh
flay her open and scoop out everything Abby hates
about
herself
and fill it up with
Ixazaluoh
and only
Ixazaluoh
, to wrap her skin around her and
live within her inside her always, always.

And when Abby comes it's like a goddamned
tsunami.

Sensation swoops across her skin, muscles
snapping tight, head whipping back and forth on the pillow.
Ixazaluoh
falls on her, mouthing her nipples, pulling them tight between her teeth,
drawing Abby's orgasm out, pulling it from her body like toffee. Lips on the
love bite again, tongue on the rough bruise, mouth on her mouth and it is all
Abby can do to remember to
breathe
.

And when her body finally releases, when all
the tension drains away and Abby is left puddled on the duvet, soaking into the
mattress because she has no bones left — must have shook them to atoms, can’t
possibly still have any in her body —
Ixazaluoh
lays
down beside her and systematically licks her from temple to toes. She licks up
their combined juices, the sweat from beneath Abby's breasts, the sticky
remnants of
Balché
and saliva from where it had run
into her armpit.

"Did you…? Should I?" Abby manages
to remember to ask, because it's polite to make sure your partner comes too.
But her brain a fogged over haze of utter satisfaction and contentment and she
doesn't quite get the whole thought out.

"Hush,"
Ixazaluoh
says, urges Abby onto her side and spoons up behind her. She slides one strong
thigh between Abby's, the other curling over her hip like a cage. Arms around
her shoulders, a hand on her breast, a mouth on her nape, breasts pressed snug
and
pillowy
against her shoulder blades.

Trapped.
Every inch of Abby
flows back into
Ixazaluoh
, accepting her captivity.

"Sleep,"
Ixazaluoh
commands, and Abby gives herself over to it.

She is warm, and she is safe, and she is
wanted. And it is more than she has ever hoped for in her life. To be
wanted
.

In her dreams, she hears
Ixazaluoh
talking. "You ate food I prepared, and drank of the liquor I
blessed,"
Ixazaluoh
whispers, smearing the words
against the shell of Abby's ear, nipping at the lobe with each tight consonant.
"You can see me, Abigail, and you have accepted what I have brought to
you. You have given me your name and you have given me your body. You are mine.
You will be
mine
forever."

"
Mmmokay
,
s'deal
," Abby says sleepily and rolls over to pillow
her head against
Ixazaluoh's
lovely, blowsy breasts.
Her heartbeat is like the ocean against Abby's ear.

Something small pricks against the skin at
the base of Abby's left thumb, possibly a small bug bite, but Abby just bats
the sensation away and
lets
sleep wash over her like a
wave.

☼

In the afternoon, when Abby finally rouses,
she realizes that
Ixazaluoh
is gone and she has
bruises in places she never thought she could have bruises. They rub and pull
and ache, and they feel fantastic. There's even one on the base of her left
thumb, a small black circle that looks like she smacked the cap of a pen too
hard.

Abby takes a long bath and makes a point of
shaving
everything
. It seems polite to ensure that your partner won't
get hair stuck between their teeth. Abby drowses by the pool, the livid purple
mark above her collarbone on full display, along with the hand-shaped bruise on
her thigh, and she smirks at all the young men who stare at her with
incredulity and all the women who give her fussy looks of disapproval or low
looks of jealousy.

Abby looks well fucked, and she knows it.

She nibbles on terrible resort buffet for
dinner, not feeling up to making her reservations at the faux-Italian bistro on
the other side of the compound, and sips her way through an entire bottle of
wine. She's not drunk, but she's not sober either, and she takes her time
wandering back to her room. The night is warm, the breeze is as cool as her
lover's breath, and the light pollution is so low that she can actually see the
stars. She sits on one of the loungers by the pool, admiring the patterns in
the sky, how big the moon seems this close to the equator, and isn’t at all
surprised to look up a few minutes later to find
Ixazaluoh
standing beside her.  Her dark hair is loose, tumbled over her shoulders
and kissing her jaw. It makes her blend into the shadows, and the dark uniform
helps. She is not wearing one of those terrible Day-Glo neckerchiefs this time.

Ixazaluoh
takes her hand,
pulls her gently to her feet, and they go back to Abby's room without a word
passing between them. Housekeeping has been, has replaced the sex-stained
linens and the cleaned the liquor-sticky water glasses.
Ixazaluoh
tumbles Abby onto the pillows, sideways across the bed, and tickles her until
Abby is breathless with joy. They drink
Balché
, and
Ixazaluoh
teaches her how to scoop
a
tamale
off of her stomach with her teeth. The heat of pepper oil in
Ixazaluoh's
mouth makes Abby's pussy tingle and burn, and
Ixazaluoh
pours more
Balché
over
her clit to soothe the fire.