Homecoming Queen
“Manon!” Fuck decorum, Elide threw herself at her girlfriend, laughing as Manon hugged her and spun them in a circle.
“Hey baby.” Manon whispered in her ear.
“What are you doing here?” Elide pulled back just far enough to look into Manon’s eyes. “When did you even get here?”
“An hour ago? Doesn’t matter. I remembered something about my girl getting off work, and I thought I’d make up for being spectacularly absent lately and see if she wanted a ride home.”
“I don’t know.” Elide smiled, tucking her hands into the back pockets of Manon’s jeans. “While you were gone, I just found myself getting so lonely. And then this sweet lil thing came into my life. I just couldn’t. say. no. She licked my face once and I was hers.”
“El?” Manon paused, clearly getting the impression that she was missing a vital piece of information.
“I mean, how could I leave Pickles at the shelter? With her soft fur and those big eyes?”
“El, oh my god.” For a moment, Manon buried her face into Elide’s shoulder, fighting off a laugh. “Please tell me you didn’t get a cat.”
“I didn’t get a cat?”
“I love you.” Manon murmured, kissing her right there in the break room of the vet clinic. Jefferey sat in the corner, mid-yogurt break, eyes wide. Manon couldn’t give less of a fuck (sorry Jefferey).
“That’s good, because we definitely now have a cat. In my defense, you’re a cat-less lesbian! I’m pretty sure that’s against the rules.”
“Mhmm. I’ve killed five different cacti, you know that right?”
“You know that I’m a veterinarian, right? Between the two of us, I’m sure we can raise Pickles right.”
“We’re going to have to lay some ground rules about Pick – ” And Elide saw it, the exact moment that Manon’s brain froze around the name Pickles.
Leaning up to kiss her cheek, Elide said, “I’m off in ten. Stay here, try not to worry too much, traumatize Jeffery that’s always fun. And then we’re going to take a really wild trip to the … grocery store! Because I need bread. And cat food.”
“I’ve missed you too.”
“You better have. Now sit, and,” she whispered against Manon’s ear, “don’t play too nice with Jeffery. He’s been pissing me off all day.”
“Yes ma’am.”
Based on the look Elide gave her, Manon was willing to bet that for these last ten minutes, her girlfriend wouldn’t exactly be thinking about work. Going to sit right next to Jeffery, Manon crossed one boot over her knee and smiled at him. Poor thing didn’t look comforted.
“So, Jeff. Can I call you Jeff? Ever had a run in with the Bosnian mob? No? Well, let me tell you how it goes when everyone’s drunk, everyone’s in Cancun, the uniform of the day is speedos, and absolutely no one has remembered sunscreen.”
Ten minutes later, Jeffery still hadn’t finished his yogurt, but he did have a whole new appreciation for why leaving his apartment was a very bad idea.
Elide was still laughing about the expression on his face when they walked into the supermarket. “What did you do to that poor boy?”
“Well.” Manon took Elide’s hand in her own. “I started with the Bosnians in Cancun and ended with the time I was at a strip club and one of the dancers found a gerbil in her hair extensions.” Smiling into the memory, Manon exhaled, “ah those were the days. She named it Pietro and spent the rest of the night dropping it on the head of any guy who annoyed her. It took a dump in a millionaire's toupee. I think that’s the detail that finally lit the batteries in Jeff’s brain on fire.”
“Oh. my. god.”
“Funny, that’s what he said too.”
“Literally no idea what I’m going to say to him on Monday. None.”
“You could start by asking where he thinks Pietro came from.”
And that did it, Elide couldn’t bite back the laughter any longer. Pointing in the exact opposite direction, she said, “Go. Bread, now. Healthy shit with seeds and everything.”
“Now look who’s the killjoy.”
“Go!”
Raising her hands in mock surrender, Manon winked and went to go find Elide’s boring, seed-riddled, sadness-filled bread (it tastes good! her girlfriend claimed. Bullshit, Manon replied, conspiracy theories. That’s usually when Elide hid the white bread in retaliation).
Staring at the freakish number of ‘health-options’ – who wants flax-seed bread? who?? – Manon mindlessly touched the delicate ring in the front pocket of her jeans. She hadn’t lied when she told Elide that she’d gotten home today. But gotten home in the past hour or so? That wasn’t strictly true.
Asterin had the decency to pick her up from the airport at 9 am, and she did so with her usual grace and charm. Aka: “Get in bitch. We’re going shopping.”
“Nice to see you too.”
“Yes, whatever, you’re alive.”
“I got the shares, thank you very much.”
“Well done.” Asterin reached over, ruffling Manon’s hair fondly. “Lucky you, I’ve cleared my schedule for the day.”
“You’re a DJ. What schedule could you possibly have on a Tuesday morning?”
“Umm, I could have snuggled with my extremely attractive fiancé. Instead, I dragged myself out of bed to sit in a car with you. 18-plane flight is a good smell on you, by the way.”
“Fuck off.” Manon tried to subtly smell her shirt. It wasn’t that bad … oh god, was it?
“Tell me that after ring shopping. Spare t-shirt’s in the back seat, btw.”
One shirt-change-on-a-highway and a thirty-two minute drive later, Manon was staring down at rings. “El’s never liked diamonds,” she murmured, “or any jewels, really. So, none of these. Fuck. What if I pick one and she hates it? How did Petrah fucking do this?”
Leaning against the jewelry case, Asterin raised an eyebrow and tried not to grin too hard at the sight of Manon Blackbeak freaking out over picking a goddamned engagement ring. God, helping Manon ask her high school crush to prom had nothing on this.
“Stop smiling.” Manon punched her in the arm.
“This is cute. You’re cute.”
“Call me cute again and I will dislocate your shoulder.”
“That’s also cute. We both know I could take you in a fight. Because I have. Repeatedly. Now if you’d like to transition to the part of the conversation where you actually listen to me: one, remember, Petrah proposed with her mom’s Claddagh ring. Two, you’re literally standing under the sign that says Diamonds, so may I politely suggest moving over to the case four feet to your left.”
“Oh.” Punching Asterin in the shoulder again just … just … because, Manon did exactly that. It hurt her soul to admit it, but, “these are better.”
“I know.”
“El likes rose gold.”
“I also know that. Because you’ve had googly eyes for her since you were eight years old. It’s been painfully hysterical. Now pick a damn ring.”
Letting her eyes trace over the bands, Manon murmured, “Not that one, it’s too plain. And those are way too big for her hands. Pretty sure that one has a dick engraved on it and, well, I do want her to say yes.” Without knowing it, Manon started to worry her bottom lip. “But really. What if I pick one and she hates it.”
“She won’t. Because you’ve known her since she was 8 years old. Because you know her. Just get a ring that you think will make her smile.”
Shaking her head with a soft laugh, Manon said, “When did we become this disgustingly romantic?”
“Fuck me, I don’t know. I still remember holding mock-executions for our Barbie dolls as kids.”
“This one.”
“What?”
“This one.” Manon tapped the case. “It’s perfect.” And when the jeweler placed it in her palm, Manon couldn’t fight a smile, couldn’t stop her thumb from running over the delicate metal threads, vines and leaves and tiny gaps for the light.
Slipping an arm around Manon’s shoulders, Asterin pulled her close and pressed a kiss to her temple. “It is perfect. I’m happy for you, M. I’m so fucking happy for you.”
And for a moment, one blinding, easy moment, Manon leaned into her sister’s touch. “I love you too asshole.”
Now Manon stood in the damned bread aisle, trying to decipher whether Elide would actually want to eat something gluten-free (please no, god no). Absentmindedly contemplating the horrors of chia seed pudding bread, Manon slipped the ring out of her pocket and started toying with it. Bread this aggressively healthy couldn’t be legal. Surely there were humanitarian treaties against that sort of thing?
“Hey, they don’t have the cat food brand I want … what’s that?”
Manon jolted and slammed her hand shut, but Elide had snuck up right behind her and Elide was too smart for her own good and oh fuck. Elide was staring at her closed fist because she had definitely seen the ring.
“Babe?” Elide raised one eyebrow, both eyebrows, face not quite sure if it should break into a smile.
Well. This … wasn’t exactly what Manon had planned. “Hi?”
“Was that … did you get yourself a new ring … or …?”
Shaking her head softly, Manon reached out with her left hand and cupped Elide’s jaw. “I had a plan, you know. A whole, romantic plan. But here you are, upending my life. Been doing that since the day on the playground when I was eight years old. I don't regret a thing.” Dropping to one knee, Manon held out the ring. “Elide Lochan, I need to ask you a question. You have the strangest taste in bread. And you are the love of my life. Will you marry me?”
Elide lit up like the sun. There was no hesitation, not for a breath, when she said, “Yes. Oh my god, yes!”
Manon let out a whoop and stood up, wrapping Elide in her arms and spinning them around, kissing her right in the goddamned bread aisle. “Yes?” She repeated, kind of staggered, kind of totally knocked off her feet.
“Yes!” Elide kissed her again, laughing and radiant and brighter than all the lights Manon had ever seen. Someone started cheering and Manon punched her fist into the air, grinning against Elide’s mouth. They had made it. They had won. Somehow amidst the wanting and losing and loving and longing, the having and holding and wandering lost. They made it home.
+
“Baby,” Manon murmured, pushing Elide up against the door to their apartment and kissing her deep. They had just, just, made it inside before the tension crackling between them went critical. Elide gave as good as she got, hitching a leg around Manon’s waist and grinding against her. Gathering Elide’s hands into her own, Manon pinned them to the door, thumbs stroking the delicate skin at Elide’s wrists. “Baby,” she said again, kissing Elide’s throat.
“Manon.” Elide gasped, her eyes slipping shut as Manon nipped at her jaw and smoothed her tongue over warm skin.
“That’s my girl.”
Lighting up from the inside out, Elide rocked her hips against Manon in a steady, hard rhythm that she knew drove the other woman half out of her mind. And – boom. Manon rocked back against her, a rough pace that had Elide arching against the door. She could come like this, she could ignite just like this.
Manon broke their kiss long enough to say, “Not yet, babe. Hold on for me.” And releasing Elide’s wrists, Manon picked her up and carried her towards the kitchen counter.
“What about this?” Elide asked, smiling and carefully rolling her core against Manon’s stomach, legs wrapped tightly around her waist. Manon nearly dropped her.
“Someone needs to learn some manners.” Manon set Elide on the counter, staying right up in her space. Her thumbs smoothed up and down Elide’s thighs, keeping them spread wide. Tugging on the edge of Elide’s top, Manon said, “This need to come off. All of it needs to come off.”
“Then do something about it.”
“No, I don’t think I will.” Manon stepped back a careful foot, her eyes tracing over every inch of Elide’s body. Voice low and husky, she said, “I want to watch you.”
“You just love me in scrubs.”
“Fucking yeah I do.” Manon’s eyes lingered, lingered, lingered.
Shivering, lost in the intensity of Manon’s gaze, Elide tugged off her shirt and reached back to unhook her bra. She swore that little motion nearly undid Manon, shattering into her perfect control. When her bra hit the counter, Manon’s hands twitched.
“What?” Elide asked innocently, running her palms up her stomach to cup her breasts.
“Fuck me.” Manon breathed. “Hands on the counter.”
“Or?” Elide quirked an eyebrow.
Stepping close, so close, their lips brushing with every word, Manon said, “Or I get my hand between your legs and bring you to the edge again and again, I touch you till you’re shaking, and I leave you like that.”
With overexaggerated care, Elide laid her palms flat against the marble. “Now,” Manon nipped at her jaw, “be a good girl for me and lay back.” And Manon finally kissed her again, just long enough for Elide to lose her mind. When the kiss broke, Elide slowly, so slowly, laid down, the counter a cold shock to her skin. She gasped.
And there was Manon Blackbeak, her childhood best friend, her teenage wet dream, her fiancé, sliding hands up Elide’s torso, taking her sweet, goddamned time. Just when she reached Elide’s breasts – her skin was on fire, fucking fire – Manon lightly dragged her nails right back down and Elide groaned, shifting her hips in restless frustration.
“You know, we forgot to buy bread.” Manon said thoughtfully, her thumb playing with the button of Elide’s jeans.
“Did we?” Elide gasped, grinning a little.
“Mhmm. Maybe I should go and get that.”
“Maybe you should finish what you’ve started and fuck me.” Elide shot back, rocking her hips to prove the point.
“But El.” Manon kissed her stomach, licking at her belly button until Elide squirmed and laughed. “Baby. I don’t want to be a shitty fiancé.”
“Do not make me explain how wet I am.”
“Oh I wish you would.”
“Manon!” Elide tangled her fingers in that sheet of silvery hair that always, incessantly, drove her mad.
“How am I supposed to undress you if you won’t. stop. moving.” Manon punctuated each word with a careful nip at the soft skin of Elide’s stomach.
“Please, babe.”
“Relax your legs.”
“Easy for you to say.” Elide said, her eyes slipping shut, struggling to still her hips as the muscles in her thighs shook and shook. With another nip, Manon tugged her pants down inch by inch (very thoughtfully taking care of her underwear at the same time) until Elide lay naked on the counter.
“Fuck, El, fuck.” Manon rested her hands on Elide’s bare knees but didn’t make another move, her breath ragged. “What do you want? I’ll do anything you want.”
Propping up on one elbow, Elide locked eyes with Manon as she drifted a hand down to her core. Slipping one finger inside herself, groaning softly at the relief, Elide said, “Your fingers. I want to kiss you as I come around you.”
Eyes fixed on where Elide touched herself, Manon replied, “Don’t stop.” Then she reached between Elide’s legs and added a finger of her own.
“Fuck!” Elide cried out at the sensation, her back arching, legs twitching as Manon set a fast pace, thrusting into her hard. “God, Manon!”
“You feel so good.” Manon’s voice was ragged. “You feel so fucking good.” And Elide could drown in this sensation, Manon an aching line of heat inside her. Sitting up but never breaking their rhythm, Elide kissed Manon and rolled her hips, taking the other woman as deep as she could, wanting everything. Everything everything.
“Why is this still goddamned on?” She tugged uselessly at Manon’s shirt with her free hand. “Since when do you even have a Grateful Dead concert tee?”
“That…” Manon lost the thread of her thoughts for a moment, probably because Elide had her tongue in her mouth. Breaking the kiss, Manon tried again, “That is really a conversation for another time. I’m going to … I have to pull out … don’t stop baby.” Elide didn’t, slipping another finger in to ease the ache pounding inside her, eyes on Manon as she pulled off her shirt and bra, graceless, tossing the clothes to the side.
Stepping back into Elide’s space, Manon pressed their bodies together, hands flat to Elide’s back. They kissed and Elide burned at the touch of Manon’s soft skin, the press of her breasts against her own chest. “El.” Reaching down, Manon tugged softly at her hand, but Elide didn’t stop moving inside herself. Close, she was so close. “El.” Then Manon stopped playing nice, pulling Elide’s fingers right out of her body.
“Fuck.” Elide whimpered. And then she cried out, a jolt running through her body, as Manon pushed two fingers in. “Fuck!” A few thrusts, deep and hard and enough and never enough, and Manon carefully added a third. For a moment, Elide felt her core resist but she rode through it, seeking whiteout, annihilation.
Her hands dragged down Manon’s back, it would leave marks she didn’t care she wanted marks, and the kiss turned rough, messy. Yes baby please deeper fuck please that might have been her, those words spilling out, her hands pouring over Manon, breathing and fucking and smiling against the woman she loved. When Manon pressed a thumb against her clit, fingers driving deep, driving home, a white-hot pleasure shot through Elide’s limbs and she came with a wordless cry, body collapsing onto Manon’s chest, shaking with fine-boned tremors.
When reality dripped back in, the first thing Elide felt was Manon’s hand running up and down her spine, Manon’s lips on her shoulder. The second thing … “Hey babe,” Elide softly kissed her fucking fiancé, “you might want to look down. I think Pickles wants to say hi.”
And there sitting on the counter, staring at favorite human and other human, was Pickles the cat, looking very … intrigued.
“Elide.” Manon said softly, not moving an inch. “The cat is staring at me. At us. Having sex.”
“Mhmmm.” Elide did quite a good job biting back her laugh (that’s not the same thing as a perfect job). “Look at us. Scarring our poor child with our godless ways.”
“I don’t think it’s Pickles who’s scarred.”
Kissing Manon, laughing against her mouth, Elide said, “You’re going to love our fur baby.”
“Please don’t call her that. I have dignity.”
“Do you?” Elide replied, unbuttoning Manon’s jeans and sliding her hand in.
“Fuck El!” Manon twitched under her touch. “Impatient much?”
Cupping Manon’s core through her underwear, Elide grinned, “I don’t think I’m the one who’s feeling impatient.” Leaning in close, Elide took Manon’s ear lobe between her teeth and whispered, “You’re fucking soaked.” Her fingers started gliding over fabric, less pressure than the promise of it, and Manon’s hips rolled into her touch.
“Baby.” Manon murmured the word, bracing her hands on either side of Elide’s hips, head bowing. “God I missed you.”
“Me too.” Nuzzling Manon’s cheek, Elide said, “Do you know why? Because I love you.”
For the longest moment, Manon didn’t blink. She didn’t even seem to breathe. Leaning in, she finally replied, “I love you too. So goddamned much.”
They kissed deep and sweet, Elide tangling one hand in Manon’s hair, the other pushing her underwear to the side until her fingers slipped through Manon’s slit. “I love you,” Elide whispered again, softly massaging Manon’s clit, “constantly,” she set the pace slow, feeling Manon rock into it, “maddingly,” she smiled as Manon’s breath turned rough, her arms shaking with fine tremors, “truly.”
And there, right there, right then on the goddamned edge, Pickles started to lick Manon’s arm. But it was really her meow that did them in. “Damn it!” Manon shifted her hips but it was useless, fucking useless, they were laughing too hard and Pickles just. kept. meowing.
“El, baby.” Manon dropped her forehead onto Elide’s shoulder. “I am so fucking close but I – ” Pickles licked Manon’s hand, “but there’s just no way…”
Elide dissolved into giggles, pressing a kiss into Manon’s hair. “Pickles just wants your love and attention.”
“Pickles can fuck right off.” And Pickles choose that moment to headbutt Manon’s arm. “Alright, you know what,” Manon tugged Elide off the counter, “We are going into the bedroom, I am locking the cat out, and we are finishing what we started.”
Having far, far too much fun, Elide said, “Speak for yourself. I can’t abandon my fur baby. This is a formative time for her. She needs me.” One beat, two beats, three beats – and Elide lost it, bent over laughing, nearly crying at the incredulous look on Manon’s face. As soon as she got her breath back, Manon was sweeping her off her feet. Biting back a smile, Manon said, “You. Are coming. With me.”
“Well I already came on you, so…”
“Elide Lochan!” Manon kicked the bedroom door shut behind them before dropping Elide on the bed “What would your mother say?”
“She would like you. And – ” Elide pointed a finger at Manon, “I refuse to let this become a serious conversation, because I want to bang you so badly, but she would like you. Now. Pants. Away with them.”
“Away with them? What is this, a bad 18th century romance novel? Are you going to ravish me in the boudoir?”
“Shut up Blackbeak.” Elide opened the bedside drawer, and … aha. “I’d say a ravishing is on the agenda.” She held up Manon’s black vibrator.
“Yes ma’am.” Manon kicked off her pants, not caring where they landed. And Elide – Elide felt her brain short out. Just a little.
“I love your legs. I mean, love all of you, but fuck your legs … get over here.”
“That why you’re marrying me?” Manon sat on the bed next to Elide, pulling her in for a kiss.
“Well it’s certainly not for your taste in bread.”
“Hey, I can go get bread right now.”
“Shut up, Manon.” And then Elide very effectively got Manon to, in fact, shut up. Pushing the other woman onto her back, Elide kissed a slow path down her body, tonguing her nipples until Manon twitched, marking her stomach, her hips, the inside of her thighs with gentle bites. And even when Manon let out an exhaled please, fucking begging, Elide didn’t move any faster.
Spreading Manon’s core wide open, Elide kissed her, licked into her, pressing her tongue into Manon’s entrance with long strokes. Right when Manon was on the edge of coming, shaking with it, Elide switched to her clit, massaging it in slow circles.
Please, Manon begged again, fingers twisting in the sheets, baby please.
Fuck yes, Manon exhaled when Elide worked two fingers inside her while tonguing her clit, just like that.
It didn’t take long for an orgasm to ripple through Manon, her whole body curling around the sensation. And Elide didn’t give her a fucking second to recover, just pushed her back and kissed her deep, kissed her dirty, just got the vibrator against her oversensitive clit and turned it on, grinning as Manon jolted against the sensation.
“Do you want me to stop?” Elide nipped at her jaw, working the vibrator faster.
“No, fuck, don’t you dare.”
“Come for me.” She licked up Manon’s throat, tasting salt and heat.
“El – ”
“Come for me.”
Manon’s breath went ragged, her nails dragging up Elide’s back, there would be marks Elide didn’t care she wanted to be marked. One hand fisting tight in Elide’s hair, Manon’s hips snapped against the vibrator, harder and harder, until for the breathless span of an endless moment, a second orgasm shot through her body. Kissing Manon’s breasts, Elide eased her through it, turning off the vibrator and gently grinding her palm against her core, an easy, soothing touch. Manon groaned into the sensation, limbs going loose.
As her breath eased, Elide lay on top of her, reveling in every inch where skin pressed against skin. Manon ran a hand up and down her back, mindless patterns, and Elide’s eyes slipped shut, head to Manon’s heart.
+
The next morning found Manon at the (now infamous) kitchen counter, drinking oat milk and scrolling through emails on her phone. She may or may not have been standing right next to Pickles. They may or may not have been bonding. Don’t mention it.
The same morning found Elide staring down at a small box, an old box, sunlight slanting through the windows and turning all the earth to gold.
Well. Here goes nothing. I think.
When Elide walked into the kitchen, Manon said, “Morning babe,” but she didn’t look up yet. That was probably for the best. Hopping up onto the counter (the infamous counter), Elide swung her legs for a moment, gathering her thoughts. Quite the pair they made, Manon already in her suit, sharp and sleek and ready for fucking battle, Elide in yoga pants and Manon’s oldest, rattiest college sweatshirt. It was … everything she had ever wanted. Still not looking up, Manon asked, “What’s up?” This is also probably for the best.
Holding the box carefully out of sight, Elide decided to start in the middle of the explanation, “You can say no.”
“I can?” And that got Manon to look at her.
“Yes.”
“Okay.” When no other information seemed to be forthcoming, Manon asked, “What, exactly, can I say no to?”
Elide held out a ring box. No ceremony, just this, just them, on a morning bathed in golden light. Quietly, she said, “This was my mother’s engagement ring. And I always … I always wanted to give it to whoever I would marry. You don’t have to wear it – you don’t even have to want it. I don’t know if you’re a ring person. But if you do, want to I mean, I’d like you to have it.”
And Elide would never forget how Manon smiled. How it left her illuminated. Stepping close, voice so soft, Manon said, “Elide Lochan, are you asking me to marry you?”
“Yes.”
And Elide would remember the light in Manon’s amber eyes for the rest of her life. “Yes.” Manon kissed her. “Yes,always yes.”
Smiling and laughing and kissing Manon, Elide slid her mother’s engagement ring onto her finger. The diamonds radiated outward in a starburst, as warm and bright as the golden band against Manon’s skin. When their hands tangled together, ring to ring, Elide didn’t even try to fight her grin. All the loving and losing and aching and wanting – here I am. Coming home to you. “We make quite the pair."
“We certainly do. God, but I love you.” Manon rested their foreheads together, fucking lighting up.
“I love you too. So does Pickles.”
“We are not keeping that name.”
“Yeah we are.” Elide pressed a messy kiss to Manon’s cheek. “We’re getting married, and we have a cat named Pickles, and we get to spend the rest of our lives driving each other insane.”
“Well thank god. That’s everything I’ve ever wanted.”
Elide didn’t know how they stayed there, hugging each other, holding tight, breathing in the sensation of home. When Manon’s final, get out of the house now you fucking idiot, alarm went off, she let out a low groan against Elide’s neck. “What if I just skipped work?”
“Oh no.” Elide slapped her ass. “You will go in with that ring on your finger and you will make the office gossip go nuclear. I want a full report.”
“Yes ma’am.”
“But first, pass me your phone.”
“Why?”
“Phone, babe.”
Rolling her eyes, Manon handed it over.
“Thank you.” Snapping a photo of their intertwined hands, rings glinting, Elide sent out a text. “You might want to turn your notifications off.”
“Is that so?” Manon kissed her way down Elide’s jaw, her free hand reaching back to lightly rub Pickles’ head (again, don’t mention it).
“Yeah, your cousins are about to lose their shit.”