Wake-up Call – Chapter 14

In a daze of confusion, I find myself surrounded by warm water, my back resting on the no less accepting chest of my girlfriend as her deft fingers lather my hair in thick, green-apples scented foam.

Am I… Am I being pampered? Is this what that feels like?

…

I will allow it.

[Lisa Wilbourn infatuated—]

Yeah, yeah, I know—[wait a goddamn second—

Lisa Wilbourn infatuated with Taylor Hebert.]

Just like that? A night crying in her arms, and suddenly there's a relationship upgrade? What the Hell is this, Power? I finally got enough relationship points?

[Flash dating sims not—]

I know that!

"Liz? Are you arguing with your Power?" The 'again' is very much implied. The 'while I go the extra mile to care for you after last night,' may also be.

[Taylor Hebert—]

Shut up. I am still mad at you.

I don't know why, but I am.

There's a very soft, resigned sigh from behind me, and slender fingers stop massaging my scalp ([noooo]) just before toned arms wrap around me (oh, fine, that's still nice), and a pointy chin slightly digs into my crown.

"Sometimes I feel like I am left out of the conversation, you know?"

"Well. Seeing as many of those are actually about you…"

"… You are using your power to analyze me?" Oh, wow, those muscles aren't just for show. No need to squeeze [that] hard, dear.

"… If I tell you he's an infuriating busybody who has tried to set us together since day one, would that make it any better?"

The arms relax a bit, but I don't. She may be just in shock.

"What… What do you mean by that?"

"Well… He may have spent the past few days insisting that… [some] of my thoughts are due to my being in the 'early stages of infatuation.'" Nice grave you're digging right there, present Lisa, do you think it will be deep enough to fit future Lisa and her quickly inflating sense of shame?

"Aha." And now she's using her bugs to remain toneless and inexpressive while she lets me keep digging. Nice.

I should take notes.

"And he… he may have just implied that…"

"Hmm?" Goddamn it, Tay, your sadism is much more endearing when you inflict it on Godzilla's inbred cousin!

"That I no longer am in the 'early' stages," I breathe out in a rush.

The water must be [very] warm, because oh boy, does my face feel hot.

[Water temperature consistent with—]

Fuck you.

Behind me, Taylor sighs yet again, her breath sending a thrill of cool caress right on my wet nape.

This would be a very awkward time for me to moan.

"Do you always have to look for the weirdest ways to say you love me, or is this just you being actually clueless?"

"… Can't it be both? I think I can manage both."

Her arms slacken around me, and her left hand drops until she's cupping my breast. She lifts it with deliberate slowness until my quickly hardening nipple is only half submerged, a nearly transparent glob of foam clinging to it and crackling over my skin as it breaks down.

Her right hand doesn't stand idle: she cups it and, right in front of me, fills it with water that she then gently dribbles down the side of my neck, the stream of warmth parting down my back, shoulder, and chest until it runs out and the warmth is replaced by a cooling awareness of the surrounding air. Only then, after any trace of foam has been washed away, does she deign to lick my neck up until she reaches my earlobe, which she bites down hard enough to make me whimper.

And then she lets it go, and her voice—low, rumbling, resonating through her chest and my back—growls into my ear.

"I love you."

I can't help it. I moan.

I only realize I'm rubbing my legs together when Taylor's fingers intrude between the softness of my thighs. Her own are around me, keeping me in place, away from the borders of the tub.

"See how easy it is, Liz? No need for elaborate setups; you can just say it. Just like that."

I don't even know whether she's being ironic right now because my head is swimming in something that definitely isn't the heat of the water.

[Taylor Hebert self-awareness—]

Ah. Of course. She actually means it.

Joy.

Then her fingers probe a little deeper, and the motion rubs my thighs [just] so as she finally makes contact with my outer lips. With an insistent gesture, she… spreads me.

"If this actually manages to shut you up, I'll have to remember precisely what I'm doing." I can feel the grin on her voice, and it makes my spine tingle as I melt against her. This is [so] unfair.

"If you don't want my mouth to make any noises, this is definitely the wrong direction." There. At least I should make a show of putting up some resistance.

And I should start lying to myself and pretend that's [actual] resistance if I want to preserve at least a pretense of dignity and composure. Denial is healthy and should be embraced by anyone who likes to feel good about their self-image.

[Lisa Wilbourn—]

Shush. Let me have this.

"Really?" And her fingers stop. Taylor, when I thought about your sadism, that wasn't an unspoken invitation to leave me hanging after revving me up worse than I did my bike yesterday.

Damn, I miss my bike.

[Lisa Wilbourn stole—]

Precisely. I stole it, ergo it's mine.

As if impatient for an answer, Taylor's hand pinches and [pulls] on my half-submerged nipple.

I moan.

"Re—really. See? Bad way to shut me up. Thoroughly unsuitable for your purposes."

"I see," she purrs into my ear right before taking another nibble on it and pulling slightly down. "So, seeing as I clearly don't know what I'm doing… how about you guide me?"

My earlobe snaps back in place, and my mind blanks out for a second. When I come back, Taylor's fingers are tracing the outside of my sex as the edges of her hand keep brushing and gliding between my inner thighs. Her other hand is playing with my nipple, twisting and pulling it in all directions, never crossing the line that would make me flinch rather than shiver, and her breath is burning the side of my neck as her tongue occasionally plays with my dangling earlobe.

I think I'm whining. Like, literally, with a high-pitched, almost keening sound that the tiled walls of the bathroom bounce back to me in a distorted, dreamlike siren's call.

Tay, honey, you are [unfair.]

"Are you… sure you want me to tell you? You—[hn!] You seem to have a knack for—[oh God…]For discovery."

"I could always stop."

I turn my head around just enough to shoot her the most pitiable, destitute, tragical puppy eyes I can manage. After spending a night on the hellish armchair, I think properly developing this skill is vital for my ongoing survival.

Or at least that of my back.

Though I can no longer feel even a hint of discomfort, so it may be worth—[no.] No, Lisa, getting in stupid fights with your girlfriend just so she will make it up to you after your punishment is [not] a healthy dynamic.

I mean, I can do the whole thing without having a stupid fight beforehand, right?

… I think I may need a safeword.

[Red, orange, and green usually accepted as—]

Can't hear you!

Wait, why can I no longer feel the wonderful trajectory of fingers going around and around my sex as my nipple is forced to…

"So?" Apparently, my puppy eyes only serve as an incentive for eyebrow-raising. And they have the same effect on lip corners.

I whine. Maybe reinforcing my puppy-like characteristics will be more effective? Should I lick her nose? Destroy her sneakers?

One of those two has more merit than the other.

"I'm waiting for instructions, Liz, seeing as I clearly don't know how to shut you up. Though one may think differently, given your current state." I shouldn't be turned on by someone being smugger than me.

I really, [really] shouldn't.

"You could… keep doing what you were doing?" I finally ask after I manage to push through the block in my throat that I swear I'm not used to having there.

"I could," she agrees. And her eyebrow shifts so it isn't arched, adopting a curve that indicates more expectation than—

Oh.

Oh, shit.

"Tay…" I begin as I try to hold back a shiver, "I would love it if you… Kept teasing my…" I swallow at that. Her eyes are demanding now. "My pussy. If you kept playing with my tits, and my pussy, and my legs like you just were doing. I would… like that. A lot. So…" My cheeks are burning, my breathing ragged, and my heartbeat thundering. She smiles. "Please. Tay. Play with me."

And she leans forward, her breasts flattened against my back, her breath once again burning the side of my neck, and her voice stroking my ear.

"Gladly."

And her fingers dig into my breast until I let out a sharp breath as her other fingers stab deep inside me, their passage unimpeded by any resistance.

Soapy water is supposed to be bad for this, you know? It dissolves lubrication before—

"Ah!"

Before that. Yes. Before the 'ahs' and 'hmmms' and 'ohgoddontstopIwillloveyouforever.'

I… may have said the last one out loud if Taylor's enthusiastic nibbling of my neck is anything to go by.

"You are—[yes! Fuck, yes, pinch my nipple just like—Ah!"]

"I am?" Her voice isn't half as calm as she would like to pretend, but it still works, still sells the illusion that she can do anything she wants with me, and I'll just beg her to keep going.

Right. [Illusion.

Lisa Wilbourn infatuation—]

Fuck, I know. God, do I know.

"So, [fucking], unfair!"

"Would you say I am cheating, [Liz?"] And there's an edge there, but I can't recognize it while the heel of her palm is pressing right on top of my clit as her whole arm twists and turns, pushing my breasts together, making them balloon out of the water as they glisten with wet shimmers and multi-colored bubbles.

"Yes! God, yes, you are cheating so hard!" I don't even know what I'm saying, and I'm sure later I'll be awfully embarrassed by it.

"No." She stops, just for a moment, yet I can't help another needy whine fleeing from my throat. "You call it 'cheating,' I call it 'winning.'"

And she waits for the spark of recognition to show in my eyes, for my silent acknowledgment that she has just thrown in my face the quip from when she was unfairly surly about my blue streak of fake hair. And when she gets what she's looking for with my nascent pout, she smirks, and her fingers inside me dig just [so], and she hooks them before dragging them right across the patch of rough skin that—

And I scream.

Or I think I do, because I honestly don't know. All I can feel is Taylor around and inside me, my muscles going taut, her skin gliding over mine.

And all I can hear is my blood rushing as I almost manage to move, to jump up with all the coiled tension in my muscles before strong arms keep me in place, and a hand abandons my breast to reach up and turn my head back so my open lips can meet an eager, intruding tongue, that I am now licking in mid-air, our tongues obscenely twisting around one another outside our mouths as Taylor's fingers keep going and going, my orgasm being cruelly prolonged as I feel myself drift away, because there's only Taylor, and pleasure, and release, and the overwhelming… Everything. Everything that is or relates to Taylor.

And I feel so small, like something weak and soft that is being held and cared for with utterly gentle tenderness.

And I feel each and every single muscle relax as the rush of emotion and sensation drifts away, taking me with them.

I don't know when I close my eyes.

In the darkness, there's only gentle warmth and strong arms.

***

"So… That's a thing. A thing that can happen."

Taylor's tone is deceptively neutral. That is, it isn't neutral at all, because if she [really] wanted me not to pick up on her unbearable smugness, she would just use her anti-Thinker trick.

"Shut up." My tone is not deceptively neutral. It's just grumpy as Hell.

"I am just worried, [honey]. How would you feel if I passed out for no apparent reason?" There! That lip twitch! You think I don't know you are taunting me with your unexpressive expressiveness?

Shut up. That makes sense.

"I would feel like, I don't know, thinking that [maybe] intense sexual arousal, in combination with a warm, prolonged bath, accumulated fatigue after not having enough sleep and experiencing both a near-death experience and intense emotional release would make it far more likely that my girlfriend would pass out after an orgasm. You know, get [analytical] over it." I try to hit my lecturing tone rather than my surly, almost whining one. No, Power, I don't want your opinion on how well I'm doing.

"Oh, you want me to get analytical on you, do you?" Aaand now she's grinning.

Fuck. She has me right where she wants me.

And I can't even get mad at her, because who cradled me until the cooling water woke me up? Who then gently finished washing my hair and toweled me off while my legs kept refusing to act as anything more consistent than jelly? Who acted like the perfect, caring, wonderful girlfriend until I was aware enough that she felt it was finally time to turn around and act like the version of me Amy Dallon has nightmares about?

Uh… may have to do something about that. I mean, I promised Colin and all…

Well, in case the answer wasn't clear, it was Taylor. Taylor acted like the perfect girlfriend until she thought I was stable enough to handle a little ribbing.

And she was right, which irks me even more.

[Lisa Wilbourn aroused by power dynamics and getting—]

Holy fuck, don't remind me. My knees are still weak, I don't need you having me on them, crawling to Taylor to beg her to—

Goddammit, Power, look what you made me think.

[Lisa Wilbourn primed to ponder submissive scenarios in relation to Taylor Hebert.]

… If you [really] thought I needed you to point that out, you are even less sapient than I thought. Or more, if you are deliberately teasing me.

[Lisa Wilbourn attributing social behavior to parahuman ability interface indicates—]

I am starting to think that line is your equivalent of 'innocent' whistling.

"So, has your power gotten analytical on you yet? Should I be jealous?"

'Yes, please,' is probably the wrong answer. Not only would it be immature of me to get off on the idea of Taylor being possessive with me, but it borders on the unhealthy to fetishize a negative emotion such as jealousy.

"Yes, please." Dammit, Lisa!

"Really?" She raises a thin, perfect eyebrow that makes me disbelieve yet again that this girl doesn't actually know anything about cosmetics. I mean, seriously? And [she] complains about genetics being unfair?

Also, her skin right after taking a bath is… Dammit. I mean, my freckles are cute and everything, don't get me wrong, but the way she positively glows with—

"Liz? Really, these power fugues of yours are getting ridiculous."

"No power fugue," I blurt out before I can stop myself. And now Taylor is looking at me inquisitively, and I am blushing yet again. Great. It looks like I don't need a nosy power to embarrass myself. "I… just thought you looked beautiful after taking a bath. Your skin glows, and your eyebrows are perfect, and it's just so [unfair] that you don't need to pluck any stray hairs…"

"You—[you] are jealous of my skin and my eyebrows?"

"Tay, honey, you just made me cum unconscious. Maybe you should take that as a clue that I [do] find you attractive."

And [now] she's blushing and fidgeting. Great. The only thing I need to turn the tables around on my nascent dominatrix is to poke at her body-image issues.

I should check on Emma sometime. Maybe she needs rebreaking.

"Hey," I kneel in front of her, lifting her chin so she looks into my eyes. "I know it's a delicate issue, but I promised you, didn't I? That I wouldn't stop complimenting you until you finally accepted you are as beautiful as I see you."

She smiles. It's a frail thing, something to paper over the cracks, but at least it's there. She's making an effort, and whether it's to appease me or because she believes at least some of what I'm saying is true, it's a step in the right direction.

[Taylor Hebert—]

No. I am serious this time, Power. I don't want you to intrude on this.

It's her pain, and I will help her through it, but I won't twist and manipulate.

Results aren't everything.

"What did I do to deserve you?" she asks with a voice that is on the verge of trembling, and my eyes shoot wide open as I find myself trying not to cry yet again at Taylor so… so…

Dammit. So [unfair], Tay, so fucking unfair.

I lift myself up enough to kiss her brow again and again, and I trail down my lips, kissing her eyelids closed before she can see the glimmer of something unshed on mine, because these are happy tears or something close enough to it, and I don't want her to get distracted from a moment that should be about her, because she deserves it. Because she has earned it.

Then I hug her, making her lean forward on her chair till my chin rests on her shoulder, the fluffy bathrobes that came with the room comfortable on my skin and thick enough to cushion my weight. The last thing I want is for my bony chin to make her uncomfortable before I can say what needs to be said.

"You were you. That's all it took."

Her arms tighten around me, and I swear I could just stay here, with her, and not get up till the end of time.

Then my stomach growls.

Really, you are the least romantic of all my organs, you know?

Taylor giggles and the solemnity of the moment is thoroughly lost (mostly because I can't help a bit of giddiness at her airy, spontaneous, utterly feminine giggle).

"Well, now that you know I can really afford it, I hope you won't fight me on getting room service for once?"

"Fine," she fake grumbles. "I shall allow your decadent luxuries just this once."

"How magnanimous of you, Mistress." Oh, fuck, please don't catch up on that—

"Certainly. Do not tarry, then, and order my refreshments." Oh, thank God. I mean, if you're listening, guy upstairs? Taylor not picking up on that almost makes up for the Endbringers. Let's say I forgive you for half a Leviathan.

"As you wish. I presume Milady shall have tea with her breaking of the fast?" I ask her with my best posh British accent as I stand up to make my way to the phone.

And she giggles. Yes! I told you it was hilarious! That's one less thing you can—

[Taylor Hebert pause before giggling indicates deliberate reaction after considerating—]

Wait. No. That—

And I remember some stupid, rambling mess of a confession right before I fell asleep on her arms after exhausting myself emotionally and…

She doesn't think my British accent is funny. But she's faking it is.

And I hug her, and this time the happy tears are there, and I can't do anything to hide them as I kiss a dumbfounded Taylor's lips.

"I love you too."

There, I said it. Now you can mortify me as much as you want.

[Lisa Wilbourn infatuation with Taylor Hebert fully reciprocated.]

… Thank you, Power.

==================

This work is a repost of my most popular fic on QQ (https://forum.questionablequesting.com/threads/wake-up-call-worm.15638/), where it can be found up to date except for the latest two chapters that are currently only available on Patreon (https://www.patreon.com/Agrippa?fan_landing=true)—as an added perk, both those sites have italicized and bolded text. I'll be posting the chapters here twice weekly, on Wednesday and Friday, until we're caught up. Unless something drastic happens, it will be updated at a daily rate until it catches up to the currently written 81 chapters (or my brain is consumed by the overwhelming amounts of snark, whichever happens first).

Speaking of Italics, this story's original format relied on conveying Power's intrusions into Lisa's inner monologue through the use of italics. I'm using square brackets ([]) to portray that same effect, but the work is more than 300k words at the moment, so I have to resort to the use of macros to make that light edit and the process may not be perfect. My apologies in advance

Also, I'd like to thank my credited supporters on Patreon: Niklarus, Tinkerware, Varosch, Xalgeon, and aj0413. If you feel like maybe giving me a hand and helping me keep writing snarky, useless lesbians, consider joining them or buying one of my books on https://www.amazon.com/stores/Terry-Lavere/author/B0BL7LSX2S. Thank you for reading!