Work Text:
“You’re my best kept secret,” you whisper into Rosa’s damp collarbone, your body curled around hers. You’re a disarray of flesh and bones, but somehow you fit together.
Rosa huffs out a lazy laugh; the puff of air grazes the top of your head and her stomach jerks under your arm. It’s almost drowned out by the cacophony of the city that blows through the open window of your bedroom. “You’re so lame,” she utters, pulling you closer by your neck in the crook in her elbow.
You tilt your head back to press your grin into the side of her neck before placing a kiss there. “You love it.”
Her fingers trail down your arm. Goosebumps ripple the surface of your skin and you shudder. “Cold?” Without waiting for your answer, Rosa skilfully drapes the sheets at the foot of your bed with the talented use of her toes and leg.
One of your favourite things about her is the grace she exudes when she dances. The first time she performed for you in the privacy of your living room, your eyes strained from refusing to blink. You were too afraid you’d miss a single second of the breathtaking sight of Rosa swirling around the furniture, a smile on her face as delicate as the warm, fading daylight that late Sunday afternoon.
A rose by any other name. Bold, fragile and beautiful.
Her phone buzzes, and your stomach clenches. It’s a familiar sound, one that has you rolling out of her arms before you even know you’re doing it.
“It’s work. I have to go,” Rosa says, scooting out of bed and reaching for her discarded clothes.
You sit up on your elbows. In the dim moonlight, she bobs into her skinny jeans. Your eyes travel to her bare breasts, studying the curves like you were as you teased her until she growled and flipped you over for sweet retribution.
As she turns away from you, you catch sight of the lovebite on her shoulder, and your groin throbs. You can still feel the touch of her roughened hands gliding over your skin. Your heart picks up at the careful, almost reverent, way she touched you; held you; fucked you.
She grabs her gun and badge from the bedside table. The brass of her badge glints in the dark as she attaches it to her waistband, like a smug wink. “Don’t know when I’ll be done, but I’ll text you in the morning.”
You knew from the word go how much time her work takes up. But it’s strange that you’ve never once met any of her colleagues in the two months you’ve been seeing each other, right? “Have you told your friends about us yet?”
She eyes you briefly then bends over, giving you a fantastic view of her ass. “I don’t—They’re not my friends.”
You blink. She’s known them for almost a decade and she doesn’t consider them friends. You swallow—what does that make you to her? “Your co-workers, then.”
Snapping up, she makes a frustrated sound from the back of her throat. “Where the fuck’s my bra?”
You sit up and pick up her black lace bra from the foot of the bed where you discarded it earlier. “Do they know about me?” you ask, holding onto the item like it’s a hostage situation.
There’s a glower on her face as she leans toward you. “They don’t need to know my business.”
You drop your gaze and bring your legs up as she snatches her bra back. You circle your arms over your knees and slip your hands over your biceps.
As her hand grazes yours, you’re quick to break contact and cover it up by shifting back to make as if you’re getting comfortable against the pillows.
It’s all you’ve been doing this past week; retreating, holding back. Over breakfast with tangled hair and a drop of milk at the corner of her mouth; the unexpectedly sweet ‘Can’t stop thinking about you’ text she sneakily sent during work; not twenty minutes ago as she was writhing under you, all breathy moans and unadulterated expressions.
What is it about those simple three words that are so difficult to get out? I love you.
“You too, you know,” Rosa utters.
You suck in a breath and look up at her.
She rolls her eyes as a smile twitches at the corners of her mouth, as if she can’t believe herself. “You’re my best kept secret too.”
Somehow, the silly little joke sounds like an excuse.
Your eyes fall shut as her hand brushes down your cheek.
Keeping your relationship a secret was fun—sexy, even. You’ve only been teasing her about it since she first kissed you against her bike, when your arms were still buzzing with adrenaline and your cheeks were numb from the cold wind.
But hearing your words spill from her lips, being reminded of her arm’s-length relationships… It feels like she’s hiding. Hiding you from her life or hiding important parts of herself from you, or maybe a little bit of both.
Rosa’s a rigidly private person, but if this is important, and if you are to have any kind of future together, the people in both of your lives would be privy to your relationship.
Right?
“Rosa—” You open your eyes and stop short.
She’s gone. Just like that.
A rose is a rose. If you get too close, you’re going to get pricked.