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“Hey, Butch?”
Butch startled slightly at the sound of their girlfriend’s voice. They had been basking in a comfortable quietness for some time, the two of them sprawled underneath a large oak tree as their horses grazed on some grass nearby. Butch’s back rested against the rough bark of the tree, but the comforting presence of the woman in her arms more than made up for it. Annabelle was resting up against Butch, her head tucked underneath Butch’s chin and her hands playing with Butch’s fingers idly. The clearing they had found to rest in was peaceful, with barely even a breeze disturbing them.
“Yes, my love?” Butch’s voice was soft, as it often was when she was talking to Annabelle. As their lips moved, strands of Annabelle’s fair hair tickled her chin. They blew them away lightly, making the other girl giggle.
“I have a question for you,” Annabelle continued, bringing Butch’s arms tighter around her waist and holding them there decisively. “And you have to take it seriously.”
Butch frowned at the mere thought that they would ever take their girlfriend anything other than completely seriously.
“Of course, Annabelle. Always. You can ask me anything, you know that.”
Annabelle hummed contentedly. Butch swayed them both gently, placing a kiss on the top of Annabelle’s head, in the parting between the girl’s two braids.
“I know, I know. But - listen. I need you to really think about the answer to this question, okay? It’s important. The most important ever.”
“Ever?” Butch asked, a hint of nervousness leaking into their voice.
“Ever.” Annabelle confirmed. Butch let out a breath.
“Okay. Ask away.”
With Herculean strength, Annabelle forced herself out of Butch’s arms in order to turn around and face them. She positioned herself so she was straddled comfortably on Butch’s lap.
“Butch,” she said, cradling her lover’s face in her hands and looking at them with total sincerity. Butch looked into Annabelle’s shocking blue eyes and swallowed. “Butch, my love. My sweetheart. You love me, correct?”
“More than anything,” Butch’s reply came with zero hesitation.
“Would you still love me if I was a worm?”
“I - what? ”
Not wanting to break so quickly, Annabelle forced back the laughter that wanted to be set loose at the sight of Butch’s adorably confused expression. She schooled her expression into something carefully neutral.
“A worm, my love. You know - wiggly little thing, comes out when it rains?”
“I know what a worm is!” Butch laughed incredulously, their confusion beginning to fade and instead being replaced with fond amusement. Their hands left their spot from where they rested on Annabelle’s waist and instead came up to cover Annabelle’s hands where they were still cradling the brunette’s face. In turn, Annabelle’s cheeks flushed a dusty pink - it was no secret that she loved Butch’s hands, loved the calloused fingertips, loved how they were significantly bigger than her own and that their long fingers were able to cover Annabelle’s petite hands protectively. “Of course I would love you if you were a worm. In fact, I’m offended you’d even have to ask, Ms. Parker!”
Annabelle finally let herself break, a delighted grin splitting across her face.
“Oh, but worms are so weird and wiggly!” She cried dramatically, taking Butch’s hands in her own. “How could you ever bear it!”
“Well, you’re already rather wiggly,” Butch released a hand, tickling Annabelle in the side in a spot she knew to be particularly sensitive to prove her point. Annabelle giggled as she pushed her lover’s hand away. “And the whole town already thinks I’m weird. I might as well have a worm for a girlfriend.”
“I feel like your logic is somewhat flawed,” Annabelle said, but she was still smiling, stroking a hand fondly through Butch’s cropped dark hair.
Butch just shook their head, leaning into their girlfriend’s touch.
“I’d bring you around everywhere. Put you in the brim of my hat. Make you your own tiny hat.”
“You wouldn’t be tempted to leave me in the grass? Go find some other, non-worm, paramour?”
“Absolutely not. You know you’re it for me.”
“Good. ” Annabelle’s eyes flashed with a fierce possessiveness. Both women had a tendency to veer towards jealousy and possessiveness - Butch felt it run through them like flames when the men in their town would talk to Annabelle, entranced by her beauty. They knew it was ridiculous - Annabelle was a lesbian, and Annabelle was theirs, but they hated watching men get into their partner’s space and look at her like she was some sort of object. Annabelle’s possessive streaks hit less frequently, but more ferociously - in their hometown, it was mostly a moot point, but when they headed to the larger cities and frequented certain establishments, it became more of an issue. The lesbian population, they found out, wasn’t huge - this meant women like Butch were in short supply. There were saloons in the city where they felt welcome, where people like them gathered, but Annabelle sort of hated them because it meant she had to see girls throw themselves at Butch - her Butch - as if they stood any chance of winning their affections.
(Neither woman minded the other’s possessiveness that much, however, as the sex that would follow these occasions more than made up for it).
Butch felt a rush of fondness for the slightly ridiculous woman in their lap - this woman who somehow managed, through a silly conversation about worms, to show Butch a side of herself that very few others got to see. With a smile, they tucked a strand of hair that was too short to be braided behind Annabelle’s ear and let their hand linger on the long plait that rested neatly over Annabelle’s chest.
“I’d love you no matter what,” Butch said, more seriously than they intended. “I’d love you if you were a worm, if you were bright purple, if you hated horses, if your Daddy hated me, if you were 7ft tall or the size of a mouse, if you robbed twenty banks a day, if you couldn’t shoot to save your life. You’re it for me, Annabelle Parker. You’re my girl.”
And then it didn’t matter that the rough bark was still digging into Butch’s back, or that the dirt was scuffing Annabelle’s knees from where they were situated on either side of Butch’s lap. It didn’t matter that midges were buzzing around them, or that Annabelle’s father was probably wondering where they were, or that - despite the secluded nature of the clearing they were in - they were technically in public, where anyone could find them. None of that mattered at all. All that mattered was that their mouths collided, the two of them moving as one as they shared each other’s heat. Annabelle sighed into the kiss, deepening it by pulling Butch’s body closer into her own. Butch went willingly, their hands coming to rest on the small of Annabelle’s back.
The rest of the world slipped away as the two of them got lost in the sensation of being close to the other. Butch nipped lightly at Annabelle’s lower lip, using the blonde’s gasp as a way for their tongue to find entrance. Kissing Annabelle was familiar; they knew her mouth, her body, almost as well as they knew their own, but it still sent sparks of electricity shooting through their veins. Especially when Annabelle did that thing with her tongue.
They completely lost track of time. They could have stayed there forever, kissing one another with enough passion to fuel their entire town and then some. Butch wondered if it was going to go further - they were pretty reckless with their PDA, and neither of them were particularly vanilla, but having sex in a forest would be new to both of them, they were pretty sure. Annabelle wasn’t making any move to go any further than kissing, however, her hands staying resolutely above their clothing. Butch was content to follow her lead.
It wasn’t until one of the horses let out a spluttering sneeze that they broke away from another, staring each other in shock at the ridiculous noise before bursting into uncontrollable giggles. Annabelle buried her face in Butch’s chest, her shoulders shaking, and Butch could only look at their two horses in amazement.
“Charlie, ” they said, voice full of long-suffering fondness for their horse. “We’re sort of in the middle of something, here!”
Annabelle laughed harder, drawing back to wipe tears from her eyes. Her face was flushed, her lips bitten and kiss-swollen. The braids hanging down either side of her face were unsalvageable, strands coming loose here, there, and everywhere. She looked, in summary, a total mess, and Butch was willing to bet that they weren’t looking much better.
“I guess we should get movin’,” Annabelle said reluctantly, running a hand helplessly over her hair as if that would magically look like they hadn’t just been necking on the forest floor. Butch groaned, but agreed, and the two of them stood up slowly, hand-in-hand.
Butch bent back down to pick up their hats which had been sitting safely on the ground next to them. They leant down to kiss Annabelle lightly on the nose before placing a hat on the shorter woman, pushing the brim down so that it covered her face. Annabelle grumbled good-naturely, adjusting the hat so it sat nicely on top of her head. She reached out before Butch could put their own hat on, picking a piece of bark from the taller woman’s hair with a fond smile.
Eventually they got themselves sorted - hats on their heads, their feet in the stirrups. They brought their horses to a gentle trot next to one another through the woods, in no rush to head home when they were enjoying each other‘s company. Although, they did keep catching each other’s eye and blushing, and part of Annabelle was tempted to make them both take off into a gallop so that they could reach the safety of home quicker, so that she could have Butch in her bed.
The sun was beginning its descent, shooting bright beams of light through the gaps of the trees. A brown rabbit hopped in front of their path before disappearing into the undergrowth, making both women coo affectionately. After they had been riding for some time, Annabelle turned to Butch, a mischievous smile on her face.
“Hey Butch?”
“Yes, my love?”
“Would you still love me if I was a man?”
Butch gave her a look, one eyebrow raised. The corner of their mouth twitched.
“Now, darlin’,” they said, shaking their head in amusement. “Let’s not go too far.”