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She knows she's being selfish.
She knows that not pushing Nicole away is greedy and self serving.
She knows that it's dangerous to keep her close; to never let her go.
Waverly knows a lot of things.
She knows, but she just doesn't give a shit.
Not right now.
Not when Nicole's arms are wrapped around her, her face buried in Waverly's hair. Breathing her in. Nuzzling against her in an almost visceral, biologically animalistic way. Scenting her and claiming her and even marking her with her teeth and lips. God help me, she thinks, feeling Nicole's hand and fingers between them, creeping—oh, so slowly—lower and lower until—yes, finally—they are pushing into her and it feels just so right, so goddamn good.
No, it's not safe for Nicole to be anywhere near her. Earp or not. Heir or not. But none of that matters now. Now that she's climbing and climbing and Nicole is moving inside of her the way she is. The way that she does when she knows Waverly is close. No, she doesn’t care. Not when she feels the roller coaster rush and tip and fall of her orgasm rushing through her.
And she can hear herself making those sounds. The sounds she never made with Champ. The sounds that brought a flush of embarrassment to her neck when she'd first realized it was her making them—of course, that flushed skin could've been for different, more carnal, reasons than just that. And Wynonna—oh shit—Wynonna's just downstairs. Probably trying to force a real meal into her stomach—you know, in between the liquid meals—and Waverly just can't help but make those sounds now.
And then there's just their breathing. Their chests rising and falling—sweaty from exertion. And Nicole is still holding her. Still breathing her in. Pressing her lips to Waverly's ear and jaw and neck. She gently pulls herself from inside—Waverly feels her entire body tremble at the sensation—and tugs Waverly with her as she rolls onto her back, hugging the smaller woman against her side.
Several moments float by—dreamy and surreal; rose colored lenses—before the world begins swimming back to them. The creaking of the ceiling fan, the TV blaring downstairs, the awful clomp!—drag—clomp! of Wynonna's heavy boots.
Nicole is looking up at the ceiling, but Waverly can feel the smile in her sigh as she presses a kiss to the brunette's forehead.
"I'm sorry," Waverly whispers.
"Shh, I knew what I was getting into when I agreed to move in here."
"That—that's not what I meant."
"Then, what did you mean?" Nicole asks, looking down and trying to catch her girlfriend's eye, concerned. Always so concerned and worried and protective and wonderful and...
"I didn't...I wasn't always so—so vocal. You know. Before," she stammers. "D'you think Wyn heard?"
Nicole laughs softly and runs her fingers through Waverly's hair, soothing, "Baby, I think you're pretty lucky the nearest neighbors are acres away!"
Waverly cringes and buries her face against Nicole, groaning in mortification.
"Hey," Nicole consoles, "I certainly don't mind."
"Hmph."
"Don't be like that," she kisses Waverly's forehead again, "it's cute. Sexy."
"Right," she pouts.
"What would you have me do, Miss Earp? Not make you feel good? Maybe invest in a roll of sturdy tape?"
"No," Waverly giggles, " no tape. It's just...inconvenient."
"Wynonna's a big girl. Besides, I think she turned the volume up on the TV as loud as it'll go," Nicole smiles.
"I shouldn't have asked you to move in here."
"Don't be absurd. It's not like I could ask you to move in with me. This is the safest place for you. For all of us."
"I just wish we could be alone—just the two of us—more often."
"It's fine. We're making it work. I mean, we're making time for each other. That's important. I know things are crazy. But. C'mon," she indicates between them and toward the sunlight filtering through the open window, "middle of the day sex."
"Still. It's awkward."
"You don't have to tell me. Living with my best friend and her sister who I also happen to be...sticking it to...yeah, not the best situation.
"Sticking it to?"
"Sorry...screwing?"
"Screwing!?"
"Making sweet, sweet love to?"
"That's more like it."
Waverly's fingers are tracing the hard lines of Nicole's hip bones and she can feel the redhead's breathing quicken.
"Miss Earp, what are you trying to do? Seduce me?" Nicole exclaims, her voice taking on a mock scandalized tone.
"Hmm," she smiles. "Why do you insist on calling me Miss Earp constantly, Officer?"
"Mm? Oh, it's just a stopgap."
"Stopgap?"
"Yep. Until I can call you Mrs. Haught, anyway."
"Good lord, you've got the charm cranked up to full blast today, don't you?" Waverly tries to joke but can't stop her heart from racing at the implication of Nicole's words.
"I should really get going," Nicole says, not moving an inch.
"What?" Waverly mumbles absentmindedly. "Oh, yeah, work."
"Yeah." Nicole has her hand wrapped around Waverly's and holds it tight against her chest, right over her heart. "Thanks for lunch," she continues, still making no effort to move from beneath the sweat-dampened sheets.
"My pleasure," Waverly grins, propping herself up on one elbow and pressing her lips to Nicole's.
"Mm, obviously," Nicole smiles back, pushing silky strands of chestnut hair behind Waverly's ear.
"Next time, though," she starts, her face growing serious, "can you please leave my sister at the station."
"Hey, she didn't have a ride! Besides, she needs actual food inside of her, you know, once in a while. Food that doesn't have sprinkles or powdered sugar on top. Also," she chuckles, "I didn't exactly realize your text to 'stop by' so you can 'make me some lunch' was code for sex. In the middle of the afternoon. While I'm on duty."
"I miss you. I feel like I haven't seen you in days."
"My schedule's been crap, I know. I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry, I love that you're a cop. I'd just love it more if things weren't so darn crazy around here."
"I know. Me too."
"Alright, c'mon now, Officer Haught," Waverly says, abruptly sitting up and tugging at Nicole's wrists. "Let's go. Back into your uniform," she insists, pulling a t-shirt over her own head and yanking on a pair of high-waisted denim shorts. "I'll be in the kitchen making you a real sandwich while you clean up."
Nicole sits dumbly in the middle of the bed, her bare skin exposed from her hips up as she watches her girlfriend skip toward the bedroom door. She knows her hair has gone a little wild and that there's probably a stupid grin on her face when she says, "I love you, Miss Earp."
"I love you, too," Waverly winks, pulling the door shut behind her.