Chapter Text
Clover blooms in the fields
Spring breaks loose, the time is near
What would he do if he found us out?
Crescent moon, coast is clear
Spring breaks loose, but so does fear
He's gonna burn this house to the ground
Lena made a show of interest in her husband’s coming and going, if only to appease Lillian’s anxiety that her daughter was consorting with rabble. She retained enough of their stilted conversation to make recommendations and regurgitate relevant information on recall. It wasn’t difficult; Lena had the mind of a prodigy, after all. It was, however, the single most tedious and mind-numbing process she had ever found motivation to put herself through.
The mundanity was a simple price to pay for the way her heart tripled in size every time Kara held her hand.
Their every act was an exercise in discretion, a revolution against structure Lena had learned not to trifle with. They stuck to ground not held in common, wherein neither a Luthor nor an Edge should be caught dead, and where a Danvers could never afford. Scarves twined high over their cheeks, heads ducked under wide hoods, they stuck hands in each other’s pockets and pressed against the length of the other like a close friend might. Kara ordered mountains of food to-go and Lena picked out tasteful wine that might pair well with fried vegetables.
It was a task easier said than done.
The sun rose earlier, set later, and Lena watched Kara flourish with it. She bloomed, enthusiastic and tactile and everything Lena could never be. Magnetic without being forceful, excitable without naivete, Kara walked a precarious line that most wouldn’t even acknowledge. Perhaps that explained the role she inhabited as a resident doormat, despite the core of strength Lena knew lay dormant inside.
With every layer peeled back between them, Lena learned a little bit more: about Kara’s sister in the FBI, about her mother who chafed against the restrictions home-health therapists had set, about how her tan skin stretched around swollen musculature, sinful in its allure. And with every second that passed, the thrill of the illicit began to chip away at Lena’s good sense.
For one whose very existence was an act of defiance against the moral structure enforced upon her, what reason was there in abiding by any further part of it?
And so Lena continued to dig deeper, letting that sinful allure brighten in her periphery.
They were creative in their rendezvous locations, given the simple facts of Lena’s… situation, and that Kara was based out of a childhood bedroom sharing a wall with her mother’s. Lena sometimes felt their level of caution was absurd until she caught a flicker in Kara’s eye and remembered how absolutely, breathtakingly precious this was to her. Lillian could never get her claws anywhere near it.
That was the only reason Lena found herself dragged out into nature on a Tuesday , of course. A Luthor would never be tempted onto ground so treacherous as unpacked dirt when dagger stilettos and a bold lip were uniform. If their first priority was to avoid her mother, then trekking through a nature trail and leaving behind any vestiges of society was the perfect choice.
She grew weary of the thought as humidity began to settle into her hair.
Lena could blame her sudden weakness of character on the fact that this was an objectively smart, remote location to be together, and not that she couldn’t turn down Kara when she was bouncing with effervescent joy at the idea of a nature walk together. Not that Kara had grabbed both her hands and pressed them against her heart while she rambled about the beauty of nature, and Lena’s mouth had gone dry and entirely slack, and she nodded yes before she could understand what Kara’s lips were convincing her of.
Not that Kara showed up in khaki shorts and a sleeveless flannel tied in a knot above her waist. Not that, not at all.
Lena eyed the chunky backpack Kara had brought along with great suspicion. Letting her eyes drop slightly below the backpack’s edge when her thoughts spiraled a bit too far into bitter resignation was a welcome, if slightly voyeuristic, way to pass the time.
“We’re almost there, I think!” Kara called over her shoulder, breaking Lena out of her reverie. She frowned immediately.
“You think? Kara, do you know where we’re going?”
Kara shrugged with her hands, turning to step backwards effortlessly. She flashed a grin, charm oozing from her every pore. “I looked at a map before we got here,” she said, as if that would soothe away any resignations Lena still clung to. It did quite the opposite.
“You looked at a map? A physical map ?”
“Trust me, Lena.” Kara put out a rough hand to rest it on Lena’s forearm. Lena cringed at the touch, feeling sweat and grit mix into her skin. “I do this kind of stuff all the time. We’re almost there, I swear.” She squeezed gently, leaving a smoldering outline of her fingers encircling Lena’s arm, before she bounded back up the path, a gazelle pulling a lump of clay behind it.
“You haven’t even told me where we’re going,” Lena muttered, but still she followed. If this had been a long-con to murder an heiress in the woods, Kara surely deserved it for her patience and showmanship. Lena could hardly complain.
The silhouette of a deserted mausoleum prickled on her skin; razor-edged memories stretched with long, frozen fingers from the shadow of her mind. There were far more unpleasant ways to die.
After long minutes of feeling her breath grow exponentially more labored and indulging her imagination in its search for the most unpleasant method of shuffling off her mortal coil, Lena finally realized Kara had vanished around a bend in the trees lining their path. A shout faintly reached back for Lena’s straining ears. “Made it!”
Lena, too exhausted to hazard a guess where Kara had led them, pulled herself up a root that had disfigured the dirt path into a staircase and rounded the corner herself.
Kara frolicked ahead, slinging her backpack off her shoulders and depositing it in a field of verdant clover. The path they had followed to this point continued on the right, becoming indistinguishable in deep foliage. Beyond them, immensely blue sky stretched endlessly, cutting the field off at a sharp edge. Kara turned to look at her, smile almost as bright as the sun approaching the horizon at the far end of the world.
“Come on!” Kara called to her, flinging out a hand. She seemed right at home, in an environment that shared her bright enthusiasm.
Lena shook her head, but the smile threatening at her lips broke through against her will. Kara bounded back with long legs and delicately took one of Lena’s hands in her own, tugging lightly until Lena let gravity pull her forward, toward the field and the honeytrap being laid in it.
Where the clover ended ahead of them, ground dropped off steeply; not quite a cliff, but high enough to send a shudder through Lena’s shoulders. She cursed her constitution as it revolted, fighting to tear her hand free and backpedal to the tree line. Solid ground tilted beneath her, untethering her tenuous grasp on reality in favor of ratcheting up her pulse.
She couldn’t stifle her tight intake of breath.
Kara reacted like white-hot metal had been touched to her spine. She spun to plant her feet in the dirt. Her eyes pinned Lena like an insect in a glass case. “Are you okay?”
The familiar instinct to lie rose to Lena’s lips. She let herself hold Kara’s gaze, wide and bright and concerned, and forced the white lie back into the recesses of herself. Instead, she managed a breathy laugh. “We’re just a little high up.”
Kara’s face blanched, a million thoughts revolving across it like a slideshow. “Oh my god, are you scared of heights? I never asked, I should have…” She trailed off, dropping Lena’s hand in favor of ruining her ponytail with blunt, frantic fingers. “I can’t believe I didn’t even make sure you’re okay with heights first, this is literally on a mountain --”
She was spiraling, gaining momentum with every second, and Lena didn’t want to learn where terminal velocity would leave her. She dropped a hand on Kara’s forearm, just as the taller woman began to back away from her.
If Lena had the soul of a poet, she might later think back on that touch as sending sparks through the both of them.
“Kara.”
Kara stilled instantly, eyes trained where Lena’s fingers rested loosely on her arm. Her blue eyes dragged on their way to Lena’s face. They brimmed with panic and dismay.
Lena stepped forward, stopping just shy of brushing their fronts together. Kara sucked in a breath and stood immobile, eyes wide and fixed on a point past Lena’s shoulder. Lena ducked her head to the side in an attempt to recapture their focus, feeling a swell of satisfaction when Kara finally looked back at her.
She absently dragged her fingers up Kara’s arm. “You think too much.”
Kara huffed. “You know, that’s not the first time I’ve heard that.”
“I can’t imagine why.” They were still so close, practically sharing air, and every breath was laced with fire.
Lena’s eyes dropped to Kara’s lips. Her thoughts wandered.
Kara suddenly shook her head like a wet dog and took Lena’s hand again. “You’re sure you don’t want to leave? I can find us another spot that is significantly closer to sea level.”
Her concern should have felt cloying, as it likely would if anyone else were fretting over her like this. Instead, Lena felt her heart expanding to accommodate another rush of warmth. She squeezed Kara’s fingers, marveling at the callouses built there. Had Kara gotten them from hiking like this? Was that how she had gained ownership of arms as thick as some of the trees in the area?
“I’m sure.”
Kara’s shoulders relaxed infinitesimally. She broke contact in favor of searching for the best spot to lay out a blanket in the vast field of clover, dropping to her knees and feeling for appropriate softness on all fours without a speck of self-consciousness. Lena giggled, imagining how her husband would react if a woman began circling the ground like a sleepy feline in front of him.
The thought soured. He would be nowhere near Kara; she would make sure of that.
Kara finally announced her decision, draping a spot of grass that looked decidedly like every other spot of grass in the vicinity with a knit blanket. Her backpack, a water bottle, and both boots were placed on each corner. By the time Lena had carefully let herself down onto one edge of the blanket, feet crossed beneath her like a schoolgirl, Kara was rummaging in her pack like a wild animal.
She finally pulled out a smaller bag, which Lena again eyed with suspicion. “Is this a picnic?”
“Yeah! Ever been on one?”
Lena didn’t have to consider long. She sighed. “No, I haven’t.”
Braced for an onslaught of indignant surprise, she was instead met with a gentle touch on one knee. “I figured,” Kara told her solemnly. “And that simply will not do.”
Lena raised an eyebrow, focusing anywhere but the warmth so close to her thigh. “Is that so?”
Kara’s hand withdrew to fiddle with the new bag, working to pull out a thermos and several plastic containers. Wind sliced across Lena’s skin in its place, wiping away the warm sensation as if she had imagined it entirely. “You may be a part of the high and mighty, with all their fancy electric cars and personal chefs, but I am a normal person with a fully-developed sense of fun and general light-heartedness.”
Kara leaned forward, as if to share a deep secret the surrounding trees were not entitled to. Lena struggled to avert her eyes from the depths of Kara’s buttoned shirt. “And ever since I met you, I’ve had the feeling that you could use a little more fun in your life. A picnic is just the tip of the iceberg.”
Lena feigned a look of horror, layering it over the warmth that surely shone in her eyes like a beacon. “Oh god, don’t tell me you’ve planned more.”
She didn’t believe Kara could look menacing if she tried, but to Kara’s credit, her smile did become a little sharper. Her eyes glinted. “You ain’t ever gonna get rid of me now,” she whispered in a voice that sent Lena’s head spinning.
Kara finally pulled back, releasing the hold she’d had on Lena’s desperate lungs and letting her suck in a breath. “You like peanut butter, right?”
Lena again hesitated just a second too long. Kara looked up, energy leaching from her with every second. She slowly slumped, glancing back down at a half-opened container of small sandwiches. “Well, shoot. I guess this is why you don’t plan things without talking to the other person.”
Lena couldn’t bear to hear the defeat clogging Kara’s voice. She leaned forward again, mirroring Kara’s earlier position, almost brave enough to place her own hand on Kara’s thigh. “It’s not that I don’t like it, it’s just… I’m allergic. And I’d rather not explain to my husband why I went anaphylactic in the middle of the woods.”
Kara’s mouth straightened, severe and unforgiving. Lena realized she must have caused some offense and cast about desperately for something to lift the mood, but Kara straightened. Her face lifted again like she was moving in reverse. “Well, you like cucumbers, right? That’s gotta count as rich-person food.” Her voice was artificially bright, hiding some swell of emotion, but Lena let it pass in favor of reassurances that yes, she did enjoy cucumber sandwiches, and no, she was not allergic to dairy.
Kara pulled out a new container of sandwiches, painstakingly cut without crusts, and revealed two small cups paired with the thermos, destined for piping hot chocolate. On another day, it would be too hot for it, but at their altitude, the wind cut the sun’s heat pleasantly.
They returned to the usual banter, Lena teasing and hiding behind half-truths as Kara easily redirected conversation toward anything under the sun. There was something darker still haunting her words, blunting her humor slightly, but Lena was no stranger to grappling with overwhelming emotion. Kara would share in time, if it was something Lena should be privy to.
Lena herself was wrestling with her own quandary: namely, why the mention of her husband had caused such a tangible change in Kara’s ceaseless positivity. Unless it was a sign that Kara truly had brought her out here for murder most foul, Lena could make no sense of it.
At least, not in a way that was possible. Lena lived a drama, not a romantic comedy.
The sun began to set, casting the sky in brilliant shades of orange and pink. Kara’s attention was snagged by it instantly, and she angled her entire body away from Lena to take it in fully. Lena did not follow suit, content to watch the vivid colors wash over something she found far more intriguing than the top of a forest.
Kara, oblivious to Lena’s lapse in subtlety, pointed at the vault of sky ahead. Lena followed her finger for a moment, charmed to see that she was so excited over the faint outline of a crescent moon in the setting sun’s brilliance, but felt underwhelmed by its beauty in comparison to who sat next to her. She quickly decided that she’d seen enough of the lunar spectacle and let her eyes fall back to Kara.
A jolt of fear shot through her when her eyes met Kara’s steadily returning her gaze.
“Oh!” She looked away instantly, regret and shame bubbling up through her chest like she could drown in it. She cursed her inability to just be normal , to be a good friend and nothing else , prepared to spiral in the feeling until it broke their bond into pieces and left her drifting back to the cemetery, alone as she should be. Kara was a miracle and she had wasted it--
That cursedly warm hand tentatively brushed over Lena’s leg again. The feeling made her leg jump, and the touch retreated only to reappear a second later. Lena slowly lifted her face from where it had found refuge in her hands. Kara’s heavy gaze almost sent her into hiding once again.
They looked at each other.
Lena couldn’t stand it. “What?” she asked, bitter and frustrated and ready to sink wholly into the ground.
Kara’s eyebrows were drawn together like she was working on a puzzle only half-solved. A scar between them stood in stark relief against the dying sunlight. Lena focused on it as if ignoring the burning of Kara’s stare would protect her from it.
Lena crossed her arms. Perhaps, if she pushed in hard enough, she could envelop herself and escape this plane of existence where she ruined everything she touched. “What, Kara?”
Kara said nothing, choosing instead to move her hand off Lena’s knee and onto one of her folded arms instead. Its gentle weight pulled down, as if to silently encourage her to open up. Kara’s expression was inscrutable.
Lena’s fists tightened, fighting to stay still against every instinct in her body. “Words, Kara. What is it?” She softened unintentionally. Maybe Kara hadn’t noticed. Maybe this was a misunderstanding. The hope squeezed Lena’s heart painfully, too quick for her to cut it down.
Kara swallowed visibly. Her eyes betrayed the darkness she still couldn’t shake, but something else flickered there, something that Lena couldn’t name. “Are you okay?” she eventually asked.
Lena wanted to scream and jump off the mountain. She wanted to heave her thermos mug into the woods. She wanted to knock the back of Kara’s head and confess that she had nearly written a love poem twice last week, before shame reasserted itself.
She did nothing. Her mouth remained clamped shut.
Kara’s face pinched in concern. Her arm dropped to her lap, where her fingers began twitching. A nail dug sharply into the side of her thumb before retreating. “I’m sorry if I did anything wrong or said something or… have been acting weird all of a sudden. I didn’t mean to make you upset.”
Kara wanted to apologize? “No, I’m sorry,” Lena found herself spluttering.
“You’re sorry?” Kara parroted in confusion. “What for?”
Lena would not succumb to the adorably lost expression on Kara’s face. She would not be played. “What are you sorry for? You literally planned an entire picnic--”
“That you didn’t even want to go on in the first place, with food you’re allergic to and in a place you’re scared of, because I didn’t even think to ask you first,” Kara finished for her. She groaned. “I knew this was stupid. I’m coming on too strong-- I mean…” Her eyes widened. “I mean, I’m doing too much. We should just stick to staying in town.”
Lena’s eyes narrowed. Her arms finally loosened, polar opposite of the way her stomach threatened to reject tiny cucumber sandwiches. Kara began to reach out to touch Lena again before freezing in midair and cramming her hands back together between her crossed legs. “I’m talking too much, please just ignore me.”
Lena’s mind whirled at supersonic speeds. She stayed silent, watching Kara flail as she tried to take back her own words, cut off whatever train of thought her words had incidentally sparked. “Please, Lena, I don’t mean anything weird or… or scary, I just like hanging out with you and I also like being outside so I thought maybe you’d want to come out with me-- come hang out with me, out here… oh, shoot.” Kara thrust her palms up into her eyes and tilted over backwards, back flush against the clover. Her heels lifted and thumped back against the blanket with no discernible rhythm.
She began repeating a nearly-unintelligible chant of apologies as Lena’s brain finally, desperately caught up. Kara was muttering something about being from out of town, and then Lena’s husband, and then something about peanut butter. The words became a jumbled mess after that, one Lena had no qualms about interrupting.
“Kara.”
The steady stream of words halted. The air was filled with the sound of rustling branches and bird calls. Kara was a statue, seeking asylum within the roots beneath her.
“Sit up.”
Kara sat up, moving more slowly and methodically than Lena had ever witnessed.
Lena resisted the urge to cup her chin to force her gaze upward. “Darling, what are you talking about?”
The words felt poisonous the moment it left her mouth. Kara’s jaw tightened, but she did not look up. Instead, she pulled her thighs up to her chest, resting her cheeks on grass-stained knees. Lena was momentarily distracted by the way her arms flexed in the new position. “Don’t call me that,” Kara mumbled.
Just like that, Lena again couldn’t breathe. Her grip on the conversation vanished, caught up in a swirling storm of guilt and awful confirmation. “I… I’m so sorry,” she stuttered, void of poise. “I never meant to offend you. I’ll… god, I’m sorry.”
Kara’s head jerked up. “No!” she insisted, eyes wide. Her neck and cheeks flared a deep red. “I didn’t mean… god, wow, I sound awful. I didn’t mean… you didn’t offend me, I just…”
Lena’s mind flicked back to her earlier reflections on unpleasant ways to die, then shuffled the list to include… whatever was currently happening. After another second of silence dragged past, she promoted their mortifying conversation to the top three, surpassing an irrational hatred of dry needling and a slow, tedious death at the hands of her board of investors.
Lena realized she was lost for words. That bumped it another spot higher.
“I think,” Kara began hesitantly. “That we are not on the same page.”
Lena pressed her lips together. “It does seem that way.”
Kara made a nervous motion rubbing up her nose, as if she were adjusting phantom glasses. “Do you… wanna maybe explain what page you’re currently on?”
Panic made that decision immediately. She shook her head before Kara finished asking the question, leaving the other to let her head fall back against her knees. Kara squeezed her legs together more tightly, evidenced by the way her biceps shifted under Lena’s careful eye. “I guess… I can go first?”
Lena didn’t answer. Kara looked back up at her, let their gazes meet for a long second. Her mouth opened, shut again, then…
“Nevermind.”
Lena blinked, struggling to interpret the dejection in Kara’s voice and posture. She watched Kara refold her legs beneath her and slump over her lap like the weight of the world was pushing down on her. Like she was retreating beneath a wall, reluctant and defeated.
Lena knew the feeling. Kara didn’t deserve that.
She pushed forward onto her knees, ignoring the startled way Kara’s eyes shot up as she shuffled over until she could settle back down near Kara’s side. She crossed her own legs, right knee brushing against Kara’s left.
“You can talk to me,” Lena promised quietly. Swirling among those words were a million oaths left unsaid, what she had never confessed, yet begged to hear. Their absence in a relationship was a neon sign pointing toward the nearest exit; she didn’t know where they indicated when finally spoken, but she prayed it wasn’t back to her lonely kitchen with a pilfered bottle of scotch.
Kara’s breaths were coming quick and fast, like there wasn’t enough oxygen in the air surrounding her. Like she was panicking. Her eyes couldn’t decide where to land. “I know. I know that, I just…”
Her gaze suddenly jumped back up to meet Lena’s and it rippled through her like a shockwave. “You’re my best friend,” Kara said.
It sounded like a truth and a lie, simultaneously and somehow neither. Was it a death sentence or a breaking point? Lena nodded dumbly, unsure if she should encourage Kara to continue or cut this off before they were both hurt.
Kara’s eyes dropped a few inches lower. Lena knew she couldn’t be imagining it.
“You’re…” Kara’s mouth closed soundlessly. Her attention kept dropping and jumping back up and Lena wanted to scream .
Someone leaned forward. Someone held back.
Lena felt every part of her shivering. Heat shone through her where their legs pressed together as every molecule began to pull in a singular direction. Kara’s bright blue eyes had never felt so all-encompassing; Lena could see nothing else, could comprehend nothing else. Her chest burned.
She couldn’t be imagining it. This. Kara had to feel something .
Kara’s eyes flicked down. Back up. Something in them sharpened. “You’re… you’re married,” she whispered hoarsely. “You’re straight.”
If Lena could have moved a muscle, she would have sobbed. In elation? In frustration? In repressed, piteous begging? Every strand in her body was broadcasting the same, overwhelming signal, and her head finally caught up. She had been waging battle within herself for so long, she hardly knew how to surrender, to let the reins slip from her grasp and yield.
This was the pinnacle of an atrocious idea. Jumping in the passenger seat of a ride careening toward a concrete wall, pulling off the parachute and jumping anyway, leaping over the barricade at a bull-fight wearing crimson, level of stupid. Short sighted, asinine, driven by base instinct. Nothing had changed. And yet…
Kara was so close, so warm, and Lena’s godforsaken excuse of a husband had never felt so far away.
“I am married,” Lena murmured hotly in return, brushing her fingers over Kara’s forearm to discourage her retreat. She looked at Kara’s mouth, cracked open and desperate. Her next words spilled out of her before she could hope to stop them.
“But I am not straight.”
The spell broke. A noise spilled out of Kara, something alien and guttural, before her thick hands swept up to encase Lena’s jaw and pull her forward. Their mouths clashed, melded together like they were reforming in a split second to fit the other more perfectly than should be possible. Something ignited in Lena’s gut, warm and bright and hot in a way nothing had ever been before. She gasped for air, unused to the need that twisted her insides into a bow.
How long had it been since she wanted to kiss someone like this? Since they had so clearly wanted her in return? Since she had expressed some vulnerable internal part of herself, naked of caveats and distraction, and been accepted instead of exploited?
Lena couldn’t remember. She couldn’t think straight enough to try.
Kara’s lips were soft and insistent, pushing only to retreat again, taking space to give it again, knocking the breath out of Lena as soon as she let her get a second of it back. One hand pushed back to hold her neck, fingers braiding into dark roots, and Lena’s body finally came to life. Her own trembling hands reached up blindly, landing on Kara’s arms and gripping the harsh muscle there like a lifeline. One of her legs slung up and over Kara’s in an attempt to get closer in any way possible, and the feeling of Kara’s thigh pressing up against the underside of her own sent shockwaves to her center. Shivers radiated down her spine everywhere Kara touched.
If this is how it should have always felt, Lena would never be able to look at her husband again.
Kara’s mouth pushed forward again and slipped open a little further. A flash of unease threatened at the motion as memories began to crowd Lena’s mind, those of her husband’s fruitless, careless attempts to approximate foreplay. She pressed her eyebrows together and crushed Kara closer, trying to ignore the past and lose herself in her overwhelmed senses.
The second Kara’s tongue made contact, Lena didn’t relax so much as melt. Kara was single-minded in her devotion, quick and soothing and lighting a fire with every touch. Lena could barely remember what had caused her concern as Kara began to push forward, taking advantage of Lena’s leg already partly lifted to guide Lena onto her back on the blanket.
Was Kara about to do this in a public field?
The fact that Lena wasn’t necessarily opposed spoke volumes.
Regrettably (or perhaps fortunately), Kara eventually lifted herself up onto her arms, putting unwelcome space between them. Her eyes were blown out, chest heaving. One of the few buttons of her shirt had somehow been undone.
“Kara,” Lena gasped, fingers dancing up Kara’s sides of their own accord.
Kara chewed her swollen lip, conflict clear in her expression. “I’m not a homewrecker,” she blurted out.
Lena felt like laughing and crying all at once. “Darling,” She moved one hand to brush Kara’s cheek. “There is no home to wreck. He was assigned to me, picked by my mother from a list of men who looked good on paper. If I ever see him again, it will be too soon.”
The concern didn’t vanish from Kara’s face like Lena had hoped it would. “You’re not straight?”
“Did that feel straight to you?”
They both laughed shallowly. Kara licked her lips, drawing Lena’s attention back down to them. The heat in her stomach flared again. “I’m not going to be here much longer,” Kara objected one last time. “In New York.”
Lena could see Kara’s resolve weakening, despite her protestations. To drive the point home, she bent one of her legs at the knee, bringing it up against the inside of Kara’s thighs. Kara grunted in response, eliciting a rush of satisfaction Lena ached to repeat. She let her raised hand drift over to where Kara’s hair spilled over her shoulder, twining it in her fingers and tugging lightly. “We aren’t getting married,” Lena promised. “This is just for now. Just…”
“What, a fling?” Kara asked sarcastically, prompting another breathy laugh.
“We don’t have to call it anything, not right now.” Lena could feel Kara’s arms beginning to tremble slightly on either side of her head and realized she was holding her entire body up off the ground, maintaining a healthy distance of several inches between every part of them. “Trust me. We’ll be careful. I won’t ask for anything you won’t freely give. Just, please…” Lena’s hand crept back up to wrap behind Kara’s neck, tugging down once more.
Kara understood the wordless request. It seemed she hadn’t much left to resist it with. Her knee dropped, planted between Lena’s legs as the rest of her body weight came crashing down with calculated force.
Lena, finally free from her misgivings, her upbringing, her last name, let go. For a few stolen moments, she couldn’t be bothered to worry about where she would land.