88. Chapter 88

YES. Firm belief that they’re both switches, that Maggie loves topping Alex and Alex loves being topped but Maggie has never gotten enough attention/devotion from her past lovers to be able to really bottom before, and when Alex gets confident oh my god Maggie loves it because she’s never felt cared for like this and I live for that headcanon because women of color are not doted on enough and Alex would dote on her so much and she deserves it so much and JUST.

She loves the way Alex whimpers underneath her and she loves the way this badass, full body-armor, take-no-prisoners DEO agent comes completely undone in her hands, under her tongue, in her arms, under her body.

She loves it, and she couldn’t ask for anything more, because loving Alex Danvers, making love to Alex Danvers? Loving Alex, making love to her, is like nothing she’s ever done before.

And she can’t imagine anything better.

Until Alex comes home and Maggie glances over her shoulder with a grin, calling “hey babe!” over the sound of sizzling quesadillas and bubbling rice.

She forgets, momentarily, that she’s wearing nothing but a black bra, one of Alex’s old flannels – slightly too big for her, and tied up at her waist because of it – and black boy shorts.

She forgets, that is, until Alex freezes, until Alex rips off her jacket, tosses down her gun, crosses to the kitchen in a single stride, and pounces.

Maggie gasps and Maggie splutters and Maggie melts into Alex’s kiss, into Alex’s hands, which wrap around her desperately, which reach around her body to turn off the burners, which pause, which freeze, as Alex pulls back, lips already swollen, hair already mussed from Maggie throwing her arms over Alex’s shoulders, already tangling her hands in her hair.

“This okay?” Alex asks raggedly, chest heaving and something almost feral in her gaze that makes Maggie’s knees weak, that makes Maggie feel surrounded, and feeling surrounded has never felt so… safe.

“More than okay,” Maggie rasps, and Alex swallows her next whine with her lips as her hands run under Maggie’s ass, brace on Maggie’s thighs, scoop her up like she weighs nothing.

She carries her away from the stove, away from the kitchen, into the bedroom, Maggie’s elbows over Alex’s shoulders, legs wrapped around her waist, as Maggie kisses her to replace the oxygen she’s losing, she kisses her to keep something on the ground, her fingers woven into Alex’s short hair and her lungs screaming for oxygen but her lips screaming for more first.

More of this, more of Alex, and Alex obliges, laying her down gently on the bed, cushioning her head with her hand, cushioning her heart with her eyes and her nerves with her smile.

“You’re beautiful, Maggie. You are so, so beautiful.”

Maggie swallows tears and she swallows confusion, because Alex is the beautiful one, mussed hair hanging down from her face like that, lips swollen like that, eyes burning like that; because Alex is the beautiful one, and no one’s ever… Maggie doesn’t get to be cared for like this, Maggie doesn’t get to be topped.

But Alex is asking, now, to top her, asking her “You okay, babe? Is this too much? Is this… not something you want? Or not right now, or – “ and Maggie is pulling Alex’s face down to hers to answer her questions, but Alex pulls back again because she has more.

“Maggie, I wanna make love to you, I want… I wanna fuck you, I… I wanna make you feel so good, babe, I… can I? Do you want me… to?”

Maggie swallows tears again because there will be time for them later, and she bites her lip, and she nods, but it’s not enough assurance for Alex, because god she must look scared, but she’s not, she’s just overwhelmed because can someone – can Alex – really want her this much, love her this much?

So she lets out a shaky breath and she gives Alex all the affirmations she’s looking for. “Alex, yeah. Yes, I want… I want you, I want… fuck me, Alex. Please.”

She gasps and she trembles as Alex takes off her clothes, as Alex kisses every birth mark and every scar, as Alex takes a moment to tickle that spot on her side that always makes her writhe, that always makes her laugh.

She screams when Alex slips inside her and she breathes out an affectionate laugh when Alex freezes with wide eyes, terrified that she’d hurt her, but no, no, she’d done the opposite; she scratches at Alex’s back with her nails and when Alex groans, when Alex rasps “that’s right, babe, you enjoy yourself” in her ear, when Alex fucks her harder the louder she begs, tears sting Maggie’s eyes and Alex waits again, but Maggie grabs her closer, Maggie shakes her head, and as Alex kisses the tear that leaks out of her eye, Maggie whispers “Good tears, Al. Please don’t stop. Unless you want to. Please?”

So Alex doesn’t stop.

Alex doesn’t stop biting her lip and growling slightly, doesn’t stop watching Maggie’s face as she fucks her, as Maggie unravels and Maggie cums because Maggie is wrecked and Alex watches her like she’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen, because she is, she is, she is.

And when Alex gathers her into her arms and presses soft kisses to her temples, to her hair, to her tear tracks, Maggie feels more home than she ever has before.