I Touch Myself

Ooh, The Divinyls! This isn’t anyone’s choice but mine, and it’s Rookie Blue again. But, you know, you might enjoy it.

Thanks as always to my Devja Beta Fish.

Rated X. NSFW.

* * * * *

It had not been a good day. It had been a very long, annoying and ultimately fruitless day.

And Gail had an early shift the next morning, so it would be really nice if she could sleep. Instead, she lay in bed, staring at the weird stain on her ceiling. It had been there as long as she had lived there. It was smallish and just off-white, barely noticeable against the ceiling paint. She had a few theories about what it was; none of them was very palatable.

One arm bent under her head, the other hand resting on her stomach, Gail pondered that, no matter how tired she was, sleep was pretty fucking elusive. And the ceiling was really fucking boring.

She sighed.

Nothing was going right these days, and spending the day harassing Nick had not helped in the slightest. There was still that undercurrent that ran between two people who’d dated excessively. Excessively was the only word that Gail could think of because clearly both times had been a mistake. Too much of her life passed under the illusion she was something someone might want. Well, fuck them, because she didn’t need anyone else.

That well-held belief was not helping her sleep, though, and her brain was still rolling through every random thought it could grab on to, and refusing to calm down.

She scratched her lower tummy absentmindedly and then stilled her fingers.

She could…

Well, it might help her sleep, after all.

Wriggling until she felt comfortable, Gail closed her eyes and let her fingers trail across her abdomen. Her white tank top had slid up, and she drifted her fingertips across skin. She moved lower, still on skin, just at the edge of her pyjama pants, and then dipped under.

She conjured up the first image she could think of and gasped.

Holly, pulling her shirt over her head.

Gail’s fingers stilled.

Nope. Not Holly. If she was going to do this, she was not going to think of Holly. Taking a deep breath, she tried again.

Liam Hemsworth perhaps, with his shirt off.

Her fingers brushed the edge of her underwear and she slid under, across neatly trimmed curls.

Liam Hemsworth, dripping with water, shirt off.

Holly, dripping with water, just in her white bra and underpants.

Gail stopped again, gasping. She felt the answering pang between her legs and groaned. Nope. No. She was not doing this.

Swallowing, she tried again. Okay, if celebrities weren’t going to do it, surely Nick or Chris was fair game. She knew what they looked like naked, and Nick at the very least was ripped.

Her fingers pushed lower and brushed her clit as she tried to focus on Nick.

Holly leaning over her, hair streaming around them.

Christ.

Her clit jumped under her fingers.

Holly’s mouth, tracing down her neck while fingers gently dug into Gail’s hip. Holly’s mouth, so warm and tempting, tracing along her collarbone.

Gail trailed her fingers south and gathered some of the rapidly accumulating moisture there and moved back up, circling. She was wet, unfairly so. But this felt good, so good.

Holly’s mouth, so hot and wet, such a revelation. It was like Gail’s body was a canvas and Holly was determined to paint it in pleasure. Her own hands moved across sleek, soft skin, and momentarily she marvelled at the contrast between pale and tan. Holly’s tongue, tracing circles around her pleasure points, sucking one second, soothing the next. Gail had never felt so worshipped or turned on in her life.

Gail swallowed her moan, circling a little faster. Her hips canted off the bed slightly, their movements mirroring the rising pleasure in her centre.

Christ. Oh Christ.

Holly’s mouth moving south, and Gail being momentarily concerned. This was not something she’d ever truly enjoyed before, but now all she could think about was how those hot, wet lips and firm tongue had felt everywhere else. Holly’s first gentle touch to her centre, causing epithets to fly from Gail’s mouth. God, it had been so good. SO good. Holly’s skilled tongue taking her higher but in control, not letting her go too far, keeping her back from the precipice as the pressure built.

Gail circled faster. She didn’t want to need this. She didn’t want Holly to have this effect on her but, God, she was ready, so ready, and all she could see was Holly Stewart. All she could feel was Holly Stewart.

How could someone dipping their tongue shallowly inside you feel so good? It made no sense but the thought had Gail beside herself.

Her hips were bucking, trying to get Holly back on her clit but to no avail. And then Holly’s tongue was back, gentle but firm, and now fingers were replacing it at her entrance. Fingers—surely they couldn’t be half as good as a firm penetr—

Oh fuck. Oh fuck, it was so good. Holly was inside her and on her and those fingers made her feel so full but they were moving and, God, twisting. They were pushing on her, finding places that made her cry out and then pushing again. They sought out every pleasure point and pushed, and pushed and pushed and—oh dear God—that tongue was fluttering rapidly now and how did her fingers get into Holly’s hair and, fuck, orgasms didn’t feel like thi—

“Fuck.”

Gail’s rapidly circling fingers stopped on her achingly hard clit for just a second before she squeezed and arched, contractions of pleasure ricocheting through her. She’d come so hard for Holly then and she was now, again.

It took some time for her breathing to still. Her limp hand fell from her pants. Her muscles felt like lead and her head was swimming. She supposed that was the point, but somehow things had taken a turn in a direction she hadn’t really wanted to go.

She didn’t want to want Holly like this. She didn’t want to miss Holly like this. She certainly didn’t want to keep having to deny that the Forensic Pathologist had, in their short time together, shown her a thing or two about sex and her own body.

Fuck.

Sleep was upon her now, finally. But it didn’t stop Gail from being slightly worried about her dreams, and exactly what they would hold.

Fucking Holly Stewart.

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