Hands (Dizzy/Nile)
The nature of these relationships is such that they must be hidden, kept quiet and beneath blankets, in showers. This is not a place designed for fraternization, certainly not between women. Nile knows that. Dizzy knows that. But there’s more to it all than just the fact that they can’t be caught. Something about being so clandestine makes it feel closer, makes it feel more. They’ve been together since the very beginning of this tour, since before, too, have become inseparable. She knows Dizzy has her back without a second thought. They speak the same language with their eyes and hands and mouths, different from anyone else but communicable without ever even needing to learn.
That’s how this night goes, just as many others. In the dark tent, when everyone breathes deep and takes the rest they can get, Nile lifts the edge of her thin blanket and Dizzy slips under it with her. Many soldiers share their beds at night, anything to help with the nightmares and the things they deal with, so it’s alright that they do this so long as they don’t let on to everything else. It’s just them in the quiet hours, lips brushing and hands slipping underneath shirts. They get to wear undershirts alone to bed, even untuck them if it’s late enough. Beneath this thick cotton is the familiar smooth of Dizzy’s skin. There are little bumps here and there, scars, that Nile can’t wait to physically see in the sun one day. Not now, not here. But eventually, she knows, they’ll have that chance for intimacy.
“Come home with me,” Dizzy whispers against her lips. “We can go back to Miami. My parents would adore you, Nile.”
“I wish I could.”
She doesn’t explain, because she knows Dizzy gets it. Nile has yet to tell her family, still too afraid, and while she knows they love her, there’s no way to know if this changes that. If her memory serves her well, Dizzy came out during her high school years, and was met with adoration. There’s no way for her to go home with Dizzy, to her family and her life, without explaining to her family why she didn’t come home to them instead. They would never understand. And if she tried to explain- her throat constricts at the very thought of it.
“Where are you?”
Nile looks at Dizzy’s eyes, glassy in the speckled lights through the holes in the camo covering. “Chicago. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. Just come back here, with me.”
With her. Always with her, that’s all Nile could ever want. She can’t imagine anything else, wouldn’t want to in the first place. All that matters to her is this, being together, even though they can’t do all the things they still want to. Some day, she can part Dizzy’s thighs and make her come undone with her mouth, taste her beyond traces on her fingertips after the fact. And just the same, some day, Dizzy can kiss her and push into her and make the headboard hit the wall. But until that day, they have this.
“I’ve got you.”
She knows Dizzy does, knows she has her and will never take advantage of that precious fact. And it’s the only thing that matters. She buries her face in Dizzy’s neck and clings to her while Dizzy’s hand slips into her fatigues. It’s little space, like this. Her wrist is trapped tightly against Nile’s lower stomach, hotter than even the dry night. But she’s still good with her hands, fantastic even, and she’s had many nights like this to learn exactly what feels good.
Dizzy buries two fingers in her, moving them slow and careful, so as not to make a noise from how wet Nile is for her. The heel of her palm is perfect to grind against, something Nile attempts as best she can without making the cot squeak. She buries every attempted moan into a kiss to Dizzy’s throat. There will be marks if she’s not careful, though. Maybe someday she can leave them. For now, she can’t.
“You’re doing so well,” Dizzy whispers. It’s barely a breath, but it feels loud when it’s the only thing Nile can concentrate on. “You’re such a good girl for me, Nile. Perfect.”
It takes a lot to stifle a moan at her words, especially as they’re accompanied by Dizzy curling her fingers inside her.
“Do you want another?”
“Please.”
Dizzy pulls her fingers out and pushes back in with a third, smiling when Nile’s back arches and she spreads her legs as far as this thin bed will allow. She’s gotten good at coming quick, just as Dizzy has become skilled at making her. Nile focuses on the sensations, on Dizzy’s body pressed to hers, on the parts of her lover that she can feel with her calloused palms. And in moments, the pleasure begins to crest, overwhelming her with it all. She squeezes her eyes shut.
“I’ve got you. I’ve got you, babydoll, I’ve got you. Come for me.”
And she does, riding it out on Dizzy’s hand and her love.