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“You’re telling me you’ve never gotten a hickey before?”
Meg’s face flushes involuntarily, as it does every time Nea mentions stuff like this. While she’s not exactly innocent, whenever Nea mentions anything of a sensual nature, she can’t help the way her cheeks prickle uncomfortably, or the way her stomach pulses with anxiety.
“No, I haven’t. Is that such a bad thing?” Meg asks hotly. Her bare knees dig into the concrete floor of the foundry, hands slick with grease and grime. Meg puffs out a gulp of air, strands of red flying away from her face and sticking on her sweaty forehead.
Nea laughs, “No, it’s just unbelievable, I think.”
Meg frowns at that, though she isn’t sure what to say. Unbelievable that she’s that inexperienced? She was taken into the realms right before her freshman year of college. It’s not…strange that she hasn’t done everything, right?
Nea continues, pulling a lever just as Meg connects two wires, causing the generator to sputter, “I just thought you would’ve.”
“I’ve never really dated anyone,” Meg mutters, defensively.
“You don’t need to date someone to fuck them.”
“Well, I wasn’t out hooking up with people, either.”
Nea laughs again, shaking her head, “Okay, okay. Take a chill pill, Thomas.”
They work in silence for a few minutes, until the generator pops to life and one of their teammates is placed on the hook. It’s their first generator of five, and she’s not even sure who the killer is, yet, just that Jill is on a meat hook and their fourth teammate is nowhere to be found.
Nea smirks to herself, a sure sign she’s about to do something reckless, dangerous, or both, and starts to walk up the metal stairs.
“Where are you going?”
“Chest upstairs,” Nea explains, “Might be a flashlight. The Entity stalked McMillian’s like a motherfucker.”
Meg rolls her eyes, following Nea upstairs to the small room, adorned by weird mechanical switches, a rickety chair, and of course—the chest.
Nea pokes and prods at the lock. When she gets it open, it’s just a toolbox—not even a good one, either.
“You think Jill’s off the hook by now?” Meg asks, rifling through the tools. She tosses a wrench in the air and catches it, judging its repairing power.
“Probably. I don’t really wanna think about her right now.”
Meg tilts her head, blinking owlishly. “But we’re in a trial. You should be thinking about the team.”
A pause. Nea stares out of the paneless window in a moment of tension, before turning back to Meg and not quite meeting her eye. Meg’s filled with apprehension before Nea even speaks.
“Want me to give you one?”
“One what?”
Nea boldly meets her eyes, a smug smile tugging at the corners of her lips, like this is all nonchalant to her, like it doesn’t matter. “A hickey.”
“Um.” Meg doesn’t know what to say. Sure, she’s kissed a couple boys, and she almost got further with one once, but it had all felt wrong to her back then. Not that they weren’t nice guys, not that she didn’t like them, but the thought of being intimate with them made her stomach turn. She thought something was wrong with her, back then, but as Nea proposes the intimacy, Meg doesn’t flinch or shy away.
It wasn’t until Meg was pulled into the realms, as hellish as they are, that she realized nothing was really wrong with her, she just didn’t like men. And as much as that thought terrified her in the past, it’s probably one of the only good things she can attribute to this place—it gave her a space to explore frightening parts of herself, because it seems so stupid to be scared of sexuality when you’re constantly watching your back for a killer out for your blood.
“You can say no,” Nea relents, shrugging.
“No, I want to know what it feels like.” Meg’s face burns. For a second, she’s afraid she might overheat and pass out. “I want you to do it.”
Nea’s smirk, if possible, grows further. As much as she may act like this is all fun and games to her, Meg knows her well enough by now to see when those taunts and smiles are more genuine. This is one of those times, she thinks, as Nea sits down in the chair and beckons Meg over.
“Sit on my lap. Less awkward that way.”
“I don’t think there’s any way you could make what we’re about to do less awkward.”
Nea laughs, shaking her head. “You make it sound so dirty. I’m just gonna suck on your neck a bit, Thomas, not eat you out.”
Meg tuts, but follows what Nea says. The chair is a bit too small to fit two people, but they make do, their bodies tangling together like knotted shoelaces. Meg braces her hands on Nea’s collarbone, hoping she can’t feel the sweat permeating her palms. Nea, in turn, places a hand on either one of Meg’s hips.
“Relax, Thomas. You’re wound as tight as a coil.” Nea, surprisingly gently, swipes the hair away from Meg’s neck—it’s one of the rare times her hair isn’t in braids—rubbing her thumb along Meg’s skin. Meg shivers, stiffening under her touch, trying and failing to make herself calm down. Maybe she should stop this. Maybe she shouldn’t let them toy with trials like this, wagering other people’s lives while they mess around. See, these are all logical things to consider, and yet Meg tosses them all away, melting down into Nea’s lap like a candle.
“Here, I know how I can make you chill out a bit,” Nea says, her voice low. She moves her lips dangerously close to Meg’s neck, looping a finger on the collar of her shirt. “May I?”
Meg nods; Nea pulls her tank-top strap down her arm and presses a chaste kiss on Meg’s shoulder, causing the latter to bite her lip. It’s embarrassingly tame, but she’s Nea. Nea is kissing Meg’s shoulder. Nea is about to give Meg a hickey. Surely, that’s cause for a bit of excitement, right?
It doesn’t take long for Nea’s sweet kiss to turn into something hungrier. She kisses from Meg’s shoulder, up to her pulse, where her erratic heartbeat flutters like a bird trying fruitlessly to escape its cage. Meg’s breathing is ragged as Nea’s open mouth presses sloppy kisses to the skin of her neck, trails of saliva connecting the placements of her lips.
She kneads her hands into Nea’s hair, instinctively pulling her closer. As Nea presses another kiss to Meg’s neck, she nips at her flesh, causing Meg to gasp and choke on the breath she was taking.
Nea chuckles, pulling away just enough to see Meg’s face. “You sure weren’t lying. You’re so sensitive.”
“Shut up,” Meg protests, weakly, “Am not.”
“Are too,” Nea taunts, biting hard onto the pliable skin of Meg’s collarbone. Meg can’t help the staccato moan that escapes her; heat pulses in her groin. “Told you.”
“I liked it better when you were being quiet,” Meg breathes out.
Nea laughs slightly, “Whatever you say.”
She starts kissing Meg’s neck again, nipping and sucking softly with every other kiss. It’s enough to raise Meg’s arousal, a fact she’s unsurprised yet still embarrassed about. Her groin aches uncomfortable, begging for attention as Nea’s mouth works the flesh of Meg’s neck and chest.
The next kiss is followed by Nea biting harder into Meg’s neck, the spot right where her pulse sits. She puts force into it, teeth clamping down, the sensation setting Meg’s nerves alight. Meg moans, loudly, as Nea disconnects with a wet sucking sound.
Hungrily, Nea leans in for more, finding another spot to work at. She kneads Meg’s skin with her teeth, causing Meg to instinctively buck into Nea’s. Nea uses one hand to hold Meg’s cheek, while the other keeps a forceful hold on her waist.
Their bodies are so close, so warm, that Meg’s sure they must be welding into each other by now. She can’t distinguish Nea’s body from her own, can’t tell her left from her right, all she can think about is Nea’s mouth on her neck and how good, how right it feels.
“Nea,” she breathes out, and she feels the woman in question still.
Nea pulls away and leans against the back of the chair, admiring her work. She absentmindedly traces a finger along the no doubt bright red sections of skin that are sure to purple and bruise later.
Their faces are still so close. They can’t not be, with how small the chair is, and with how intimate their position just was. For a second, Meg thinks Nea is about to kiss her, but she turns away.
“So, was it everything you dreamed it’d be?” Nea asks, coy.
Meg snorts, “What, not confident in your skills?”
“Just making sure…” she trails off, her finger still pressed flush to her purpling hickeys. “I wouldn’t want to be your first and worst experience.”
“It’s not like I have anything to compare it to.”
“That’s true,” Nea admits, “but…”
“I liked it,” Meg reassures her. “If you couldn’t tell.”
Nea laughs, removing (unfortunately) her hands from Meg’s body and shifting in the chair. “Think our teammates are totally obliterated by now?”
“God, don’t even make me think about that!” Meg takes the hint, lifting herself up and off Nea’s lap and stretching.
She runs her fingers along the fresh hickeys, face flushed, her mind running overtime to properly comprehend what’s just happened. She wonders if this’ll change things between them. She wonders if she wants things to change.
Nea gives a cheeky wave as she slips out of the room, no doubt on her way to harass the killer for the remainder of the generators, however many they have left.
Meg is left starstruck in the upper level of the foundry, body burning with a mixture of arousal and apt confusion. Is she just supposed to return to normal, now, after having Nea so close? She’s tried, desperately, to deny whatever people see between them. Her friends have been calling out their dancing around each other for what feels like years, and she’s never once allowed herself to consider it. But now…
Meg’s mind flashes back to the sight of Nea leaning in, of the feeling of her lips so tenderly against her skin, and she realizes that maybe she’s been holding too tightly to doubt that may have less credence than she thought.
Could she ever do anything about it, though? Nea flirts with everyone, that’s her thing.
But she doesn’t do that to everyone, she thinks, she hopes. Maybe there’s something different about me.