386. Chapter 386

The first time it happens, it’s an accident.

It’s an accident because Maggie is fucking her from behind over the side of the couch, and when she tosses her head back, she catches a glimpse of her body, pressing back into Maggie’s, one of Maggie’s arms tight around her lower waist, keeping her steady, muscles rippling against Alex’s skin, her other hand working in and out of her, Maggie’s face a map of concentration, of devotion, of careful attention, as she looks down at Alex’s stripped body, looks down at the work she’s doing, at the art she’s creating. And it is art, Alex’s body bent over, nipples hard, breasts at attention even as they move with the force of Maggie fucking her entire body, hair all mussed and mouth all askew.

And the image, in the mirror?

The image makes Alex cum without any pressure on her clit.

That’s never happened before and she tries not to think about it because it’s it a bit narcissistic, and Maggie would probably think it was weird, anyway, and the last thing she wants to do is turn Maggie off.

But the next time she’s brushing her teeth, Maggie comes up to her from behind.

“May I?” she asks, and Alex nearly chokes on toothpaste as she nods, and Maggie slowly, luxuriously, licks the back of her neck.

Alex moans and spits and her toothbrush clatters into the sink and she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand before grabbing either side of the sink for support.

For support, because there’s no way her knees are going to hold her body up by themselves with Maggie… doing that.

“Do you want to watch me fuck you, Danvers?” Maggie husks, because of course she’s put two and two together.

Alex lets go of shame, lets go of embarrassment, because Maggie doesn’t look weirded out – Maggie looks anything but – and Alex will stomp away on principle alone if she has to hear that Maggie knew because she detects one more time.

“Yes,” she says, and her voice is small, and Maggie stands on her tiptoes to nip at her earlobe.

“I don’t blame you, Danvers.” She makes eye contact with her in the mirror, and Alex loses all her breath. “You are so fucking gorgeous.”

Alex blushes and she stammers and Maggie traces a finger along Alex’s collarbone.

“Wanna take this off, Ally?” she whispers, and even though it’s soft, it sends a huge shiver down Alex’s spine. She nods wordlessly, and holds her hands above her head so Maggie can tug off her shirt, Alex helping her out when the shirt reaches her elbows.

The sound of the old tee hitting the floor is the only sound apart from their breath in the bathroom, and Maggie’s eyes are once again locked into Alex’s in the mirror.

“May I?” she asks, hands raised, and Alex takes her by the wrists and brings both of Maggie’s hands to both of her own breasts. The sight of her hands covering Maggie’s, of Maggie’s fingers toying with Alex’s rapidly hardening nipples; the sight of Maggie’s eyes rolling into the back of her head at the contact, the sight of the pulse leaping in Maggie’s throat; all make Alex start to drip with need, with want, with raw, raw desire.

“You like that, babygirl?” Maggie asks her, and Alex fights to not toss her head back, to keep her eyes locked on the mirror, on the sights Maggie is conjuring up for her.

“Yes,” she admits, and Maggie kisses the base of her neck.

“You’re perfect, Danvers,” she reminds her, and Alex thrusts her hips chaotically.

“Mmm, you uh… you want something, Alex?”

“You,” Alex rasps, and Maggie chuckles into her shoulder blade.

“You wanna um.. take this to the bed? That full length mirror you have, if we keep your closet door open…”

Alex practically tugs Maggie out of the bathroom at that suggestion.

“Strip for me?” Maggie asks, and Alex obeys eagerly, shucking out of her pajama pants and underwear.

“When you think about watching me fuck you, do you imagine me with clothes on or without?” Maggie asks with the casualness of asking about the weather, but her eyes are thick with need.

“Both,” Alex whispers, and Maggie grins.

“I want to feel your skin against mine. Is it okay if I take my clothes off now?”

Alex nods desperately, tentatively opening her closet door, watching Maggie strip out of her boxers and tank top through the full-length mirror within.

Maggie steps up behind her, so close they can feel each other’s heat, but she doesn’t touch her.

Not until Alex asks.

“Please, Maggie?”

“Please what, babe?”

“Please let me watch you fuck me?”

Maggie grins and Maggie closes the gap between them, her chest pressed into Alex’s back, and Alex gasps at the contact, gasps at the image, Maggie’s eyes searing into hers through the mirror as she takes her own fingers into her mouth, slow, slow, slow.

“Not that I think they need any extra lubrication,” she rasps. “But you know. Tonight’s about the visual, isn’t it?”

Alex gulps and nods and begs one more time, and Maggie braces her with a strong hand on her hip, and Maggie slips inside her in one practiced, deliberate gesture that she knows never fails to unravel Alex.

And it does, always, but especially now.

Especially now that Alex can watch Maggie’s face, Maggie’s fingers, Maggie’s rippling muscles, Maggie’s effort, while she fucks her hard, while she fucks her solid, while she fucks her senseless.

She can see Maggie’s free hand reaching around to encourage Alex to play with her own breasts, can see the way Maggie’s fingers encourage Alex to tease her own nipples, can see, not just hear, the way Maggie groans at how deep inside Alex she is, how soaked with Alex’s heat her entire hand is getting, how amazing Alex’s fingers look on Alex’s nipples.

“You are so fucking hot, Danvers,” Maggie tells her, leaving Alex’s breasts in Alex’s own capable hands so she can bring the hand that’s not fucking her down her body to her clit.

Alex screams, watching the way Maggie’s fingers part her hair, rub that spot right above her throbbing clit. Watching the way her body tenses, the way her body shakes, the way Maggie nearly overbalances with the force of Alex’s need, the way Maggie bites her lip with the effort of keeping Alex steady, of keeping Alex satisfied, the way Maggie bites into her shoulder to keep herself from screaming into her ear, the way Maggie’s fingers are coated in Alex’s desire, and Alex locks eyes with Maggie in the mirror, and that, that, that, is what tosses her over the edge, screaming and writhing and pulsing around Maggie’s fingers, in front of Maggie’s body, enveloped in Maggie’s love.