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feel your heart beating under my skin

“No, you don’t,” Jane replies. “You’ve never done this before.”

I haven’t, Hammerhead admits. Jane moves their hand up underneath a dark shirt, cups their breast with their left hand, thumbs over her nipple, gives a beautiful soft little gasp that sends them both shivering down frozen. But I’ve thought about it.

“You asshole,” Jane breathes. “Don’t fucking lie to me.”

It’s true, dipshit. My main purpose is to protect the girl. My secondary purpose is to protect all of us. And I… enjoy protecting you.

Jane laughs a little bit, chews on her next words, which Hammerhead inexplicably cannot sense from within. There’s that gnawing sensation, a growing hollowness, and a nothingness, but the two don’t entwine. The lips of their body quiver.

“I don’t know what to do,” Jane admits. “I don’t know if I’m… allowed. To have this.”

It’s your body too. Relax.

Jane sighs, and the shoulders of their body loosen from their tense position as she relaxes into the bed. Hammerhead takes control of their right hand, trails a hand down their stomach at a pace that truly, truly aches. Jane wants it, shouldn’t want it, wants it. She’s glad that it’s with Hammerhead—her first time doing this. Their fingers are warm as Hammerhead parts the legs of their body and rubs their middle finger over their clit, then their ring finger, moving in blissful holy circles that they both cannot bear for very long.

“Holy shit, ” Jane whispers, their hips bucking up to increase the pleasure. “Can you feel it too?”

And Hammerhead can feel it too. She increases the pace of her movements as a response, causing their legs to tremble underneath them, vibrating like a plucked musical string over their mattress. Yeah, Hammerhead replies. You feel so good.

“Fuck,” Jane breathes out through a shared mouth. She doesn’t tap into Hammerhead’s thoughts, thankfully, because in Hammerhead’s thoughts there is a gallery show on display for all to see of every moment Hammerhead has imagined touching Jane, has imagined Jane touching her, has buried herself in a secret corner of the Underground just to daydream. Their relationship is turbulent, but there’s always respect buried underneath this ground, there’s always the reanimated corpses of sick devotion lurking inside them all.

Jane’s mind, on the other hand, is molten gold, liquifying underneath Hammerhead’s touch. She’s allowing herself respite, Hammerhead knows, and Hammerhead basks in the knowledge that she is the cause of it, allows the rays of Jane to envelop her.

They all deserve a break, they all deserve bliss. Hammerhead will be the tough messenger, the benevolent harbinger, if that’s what it takes. Jane’s left hand moves to cover their mouth, to suck on two fingers, and Hammerhead engrosses herself in the wetness of it all. She hopes that Jane will be able to face her when this is all over, but for now: bliss.