368. Chapter 368

The first time they try, it’s days later.

Days later, because Maggie wants her.

God, does she want her. (Especially after that punch. Jesus, that punch.)

But she won’t do more than kiss her tender, kiss her sweet. Kiss her passionate, yes, hold her close, absolutely, but nothing more.

Because her body is still sore, although Alex keeps trying to pretend it’s not.

Because her insides are still healing, although Alex keeps trying to use the argument that she’s a doctor herself with her own doctors.

It’s days later and they try because Alex is licking her lips and Alex is breathing headily and Alex needs her, needs her, please Maggie, I want you, I want you, I want you.

So Maggie kisses her all the way back to the bed, because god, does she want her to.

She kisses her all the way to the bed and she lays her down and Alex looks up at her expectantly, her pupils dilated, her lips wet, her hair mussed, her shirt askew.

Alex looks up at her, wanting, wanting, wanting.

And Maggie wants nothing more than to give.

Give her everything. Everything and beyond, because they haven’t been able to stop saying I love you, because they have so much time to make up for, and so much time to prepare for.

But she looks down and Alex’s hair is haloed around the pillow and her eyes are vulnerable and her body is vulnerable and her breathing is vulnerable and Maggie wants to give her everything.

But Maggie can do nothing but wrack with sobs.

There’s a split second where Alex is alarmed.

Where Alex is alarmed, and confused, but then, suddenly, she isn’t.

Because Maggie has been so solid, these past few days.

Solid and steady and giving and… and perfect.

And Alex had asked.

It was the first thing she wanted to know.

“You okay?”

But of course Maggie had deflected. Of course she had.

And she’d spent the last few days deflecting.

But now?

Now it’s bursting out of her chest like – well, like the water had burst out of the damn pipe, and Alex pulls Maggie down on top of her and she just holds her solid, holds her steady. Holds her giving. Holds her perfect.

“I can’t lose you,” Maggie gasps, soaking Alex’s shirt with her tears, with her snot, and Alex kisses her hair and lets herself cry too, but softly, softly, because Maggie needs this. Maggie needs her.

“You’re not gonna lose me, Maggie. I’m here. I’m right here, I’m right here. I’m right here,” she whispers, over and over and over and over.

“I’m right here, and I love you. I love you so much, and you’re not gonna lose me. I’m right here, I’m right here, I’m right here.”

She whispers the words until they bleed into each other, until they seep into Maggie’s skin. Until Maggie remembers how to breathe slow, how to breathe even. How to breathe without choking on tears. How to rest. How to remember that Alex is safe, safe, safe, her body warm and solid underneath hers.

Safe.

Alive.

They cling to each other until they both fall asleep.

They try again a few days later.

Try again, because they’ve spent the last few days giving Maggie all the space and time and attention she needs. Giving her shifts with James and Winn and Kara and J’onn, giving her all the time and all the space to grieve what almost happened, what could have happened, what was minutes away from happening.

They try again, because it’s a Friday night, and they’re kissing, and god, her lips are so soft and god, she tastes like chocolate, and god, her hands are slipping under her sweater and god she needs her, needs her, needs her.

Now.

“I want you, Alex,” Maggie whispers, and Alex nods into their kiss.

“Yeah?”

Maggie smiles, and it lights up the entire room.

“Yeah.”

“I’m yours,” Alex assures her, and Maggie knows, and Maggie acts on it.

She strips her slow and she strips her steady. She asks her about every centimeter, every movement.

“This okay, babe?”

“You good, Alex?”

“You want this, yeah? It’s okay if you don’t.”

But she does, she does, she does. Every touch. Every kiss. Every lick. Every soft nip.

Everything.

“Let me undress you,” Alex whispers when Maggie’s kissed her way all across Alex’s body, her clothes a heap on the floor.

Maggie nods and kneels and lets her, and it’s quiet and it’s reverent and it’s needy and it’s constant.

“I love you so much,” Alex reminds her, and it still makes Maggie’s heart leap every time.

“I love you so much,” she mirrors, and helps her by kicking off her boxers.

“You sure you’re okay for this?”

“Are you?”

“Are you asking me if I’m gonna cry again, Danvers? Because if you are – “

Maggie pretends to reach for her clothes, and Alex grabs her back – grabs her back like their first kiss, but naked, now, horizontal, now, in love, now – and when their lips connect, it’s fire.

It’s fire and it’s cleansing and it’s dangerous and it’s healing.

It’s everything and it’s eternal and it’s now, now, now.

“May I?” Maggie asks, her voice desperate against Alex’s lips, and Alex opens her legs to accommodate Maggie’s thigh, and Maggie moans at how wet Alex already is for her.

Alex grinds up into her and tosses her head back, Alex relishing the way Maggie takes full advantage of the access to her neck, Maggie relishing the way her tongue can trace Alex’s pulse, alive, alive, alive.

“I love you,” she breathes into her throat, because she’s alive, alive, alive.

“I love you, too,” Alex gasps back, because her pulse is leaping with the rhythm of Maggie’s hips, because she’s alive, alive, alive.

Maggie moans at the admission, their first time during sex – and they both smile as they realize at the same time, because firsts, firsts, firsts – and Alex touches everywhere she can, her hands never still, tracing everywhere on Maggie’s body, because god, she thought she’d never touch her again.

She knew she was coming.

She knew she would hold on.

But god, god, god, there was that terror.

“I love you,” she whines as Maggie kisses her way down Alex’s breasts, down her stomach, pausing at her hipbones.

“May I?” she asks, and Alex has to restrain herself from shoving Maggie’s head down with her desperation.

“Oh. And I love you, too,” Maggie responds before closing her lips around Alex’s clit, before slipping her tongue inside her, before moaning into the feeling of Alex thrusting her hips up into Maggie’s mouth, fucking Maggie’s face with all the desperation of a woman who would be dead if she had any less courage, any less conviction, any less need to live.

For this, for this, for this, for I love you, I love you, I love you.

For you’re alive, you’re alive, you’re alive.

Maggie worships every inch of Alex’s skin – alive, alive, alive – and she can’t get enough of making Alex cum.

In her mouth – twice – with her tongue inside her – twice – with her fingers inside her – three times – and, when Alex begs for it, when Alex is panting and whimpering and soaked and utterly wrecked for her, with her strap on, slipping inside her slow and steady and fast and hard, because she can feel how tight Alex is around her, can feel Alex’s hips rising to meet hers, can hear Alex’s screams, all of them of her name, all of them in ecstasy, none of them in pain, none of them in fear, all of them in sheer love, love, love.

Maggie holds off on cumming – holds off until she’s inside Alex with her strap on, until she’s free to fuck her with one hand holding hers, their fingers interlaced, and the other wrapped around her body, her face buried in Alex’s neck, slamming into her as hard as Alex is begging her for, because she’s alive, alive, god dammit, Alex is alive.

Safe.

Warm.

Writhing underneath her and very, very wet for her.

Alex feels Maggie’s thrusts go uneven, and she smiles into her hair, because she knows Maggie’s signs, and she knows Maggie is about to cum, hard, raw, needy, buried all the way inside her.

And that sends Alex over her own edge yet another time.

“I love you, Maggie,” she gasps as she reaches the stars.

“I love you, Alex,” she screams helplessly as she kisses her neck, her pulse point, her heartbeat, steady, steady, racing, racing, for her, for her, for her.

They come back to earth together, slowly, slowly, slowly.

Spent and sated and soaked.

Exhausted and ecstatic and euphoric.

“I’m right here,” Alex whispers, because she knows.

“I’ll always come for you,” Maggie whispers back, because she knows, too.

“Was that a pun, Sawyer?”

“Oh my god, Alex, seriously?”

“For you? Always.”

“Nerd.”

“You love me.”

“Yeah. More than anything, Danvers, I do.”