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Jackie tugs her toward her car by the crook of her elbow, her grip firm but not unkind. Shauna stumbles, and Jackie makes a small, exasperated noise as she steadies her. “Come on,” she says, like Shauna is a misbehaving child, like this is an inconvenience and not entirely Jackie's idea in the first place. Shauna lets herself be guided into the passenger seat. Her head tips back against the rest, the world spinning slightly around the edges.
“You’re such a lightweight,” Jackie says, pulling the seatbelt across Shauna’s chest, snapping it into place like she’s securing fragile cargo. Shauna doesn't fight her on it. And maybe this is where the night really started, this exact moment, Shauna slumped in the car, Jackie sighing like she’s put upon. But no, obviously not. Obviously, the night started earlier. Everything does, doesn't it?
So: rewind.
It’s someone’s house party. Some junior on the soccer team, but it doesn’t really matter. The music is loud, the beer is warm, the whole place reeks of too many bodies and cheap weed, so that makes a lot of sense and it’s a good thing, really. Shauna’s planted herself in the corner, firmly, drinking something syrupy and red from a plastic cup. Jackie sits next to her, cross-legged, perfectly composed. Jackie is drunk, though she doesn’t have to be in order to be the center of everything.
“You should loosen up,” Jackie says, plucking the cup from Shauna’s hands and pushing it back toward her mouth. “I swear to God, you’re the only person here not having fun.”
Shauna rolls her eyes, but she drinks. Not because Jackie told her to. (Definitely not.) Because why not? She finishes a bottle in a matter of seconds, because why the fuck not?
“Damn, Shipman, didn’t know you had it in you.”
And maybe she doesn’t. Maybe it’s just borrowed. After, there’s a girl in the closet who’s throwing up in slow motion, just opposite the dimly lit kitchen, or maybe that’s just how it feels. A thick, wet sound, then a pause, then another. Shauna watches for too long. The girl (blonde, pretty, probably someone’s little sister) lifts her head, eyes glassy, and Shauna thinks she might say something like Help me, get Jackie, don’t tell anyone, but instead she just groans and slumps forward onto her knees. Time to go.
Shauna pushes out of the room, stepping over someone’s jacket. She moves fast past the girls in the bathroom mirror, swiping at smeared mascara, past a group of juniors shotgunning beers in the kitchen. Someone’s holding a bottle of something clear, tilting it up for the girl in his lap, and Shauna has to look away. Outside. She just needs to get outside.
"Shauna?"
Too late. Jackie’s voice cuts through the noise. She’s a siren. Shauna knows nothing about traversing the troubled seas of her angsty teenagehood, she just knows which voice to follow. She thinks about turning around, smiling, pretending she wasn’t trying to leave. She thinks about saying, Sorry, I just watched a girl puke in a closet and now I hate myself for some reason. She’s always thinking about lying. Instead, she stays exactly where she is, staring at the front door like if she concentrates hard enough, she can will herself through it.
“I’m fine,” Shauna says, preemptively, which is untrue, because the world tilts when she stands.
Jackie sighs. “You’re really drunk. Come on.”
“Whose fault is that?” bubbles on Shauna’s tongue, but it doesn’t slip. She lets herself be led out. Because it's easier that way. Because it’s Jackie. It’s colder than she expected. Stepping outside should feel like a relief, but instead, it only makes her more aware of how the heat from inside is still clinging to her skin. The grass is damp, the pavement slick, the sky low and colorless. Suburban night, quiet in a way that isn’t really quiet, full of distant car engines and the hum of streetlights.
Jackie steps up beside her, arms wrapped around herself, like she hadn’t expected it either. "God, it’s freezing," she says, and Shauna almost laughs because of course, always announcing the obvious like it’s a revelation. The sky is blue. Water is wet. Shauna, don’t be mad, I didn’t know Jeff was going to ask me out.
She looks at Jackie and then looks away. She used to be smaller. When they were kids, she had a round face, scraped knees, a way of walking like she always had somewhere to be. Now she’s thinner, tanner in that way that rich girls get after a summer of lifeguarding. Her hair is perfect. Even now, drunk and windswept, it falls in glossy waves around her shoulders like a fucking Pantene commercial.
Shauna thinks about telling her that. Thinks about saying, You know, Jackie, it’s actually sick how good you look right now. But that would be weird. And pathetic. And it would lead to Jackie saying something awful, like Shauna, you’re so pretty too, which would be an even bigger lie than whatever bullshit Jeff probably fed her before climbing on top of her for the first time.
"Where’s lover boy?" Shauna asks instead, arms crossed tight over her chest.
Jackie wrinkles her nose. "Inside somewhere. Playing beer pong, I think."
Of course he is. Jeff is the kind of guy who takes beer pong seriously. He has a technique.
"Ugh," Shauna says. It’s supposed to be in her head, but whatever. She’s drunk. Has been for a while now. It’s a warm, humming thing, buzzing under her skin, making everything feel too close and too far away at the same time. She leans against the porch railing, blinking hard.
Jackie turns to her, head tilted, eyes bright. "How much have you had?"
Shauna shrugs. "Dunno."
She does know, though. Three beers, more shots, a sip of something sweet and syrupy out of Natalie’s flask. Enough to feel it but not enough to black out, and definitely not enough to forget this in the morning.
Jackie tugs on her sleeve. "C'mon, lightweight, sit with me."
Shauna hesitates, then drops down onto the porch step beside her. The wood is cold through her jeans, damp with leftover rain or spilled beer or both. Jackie pulls her knees up to her chest, like a kid, like she used to when they sat on the sidewalk outside Shauna’s house waiting for her mom to get home.
"You’re sure you’re okay?" Jackie asks.
Shauna doesn’t know how to explain that everything feels wrong tonight like someone has tilted the world five degrees to the left. She hates how easy it is to be here but how impossible it feels to stay.
Shauna just shrugs. "I don’t know."
Jackie rests her chin on her knee, watching her like she’s trying to work something out. Jackie has always done this, tried to understand Shauna even when Shauna gives her nothing to work with. It should be comforting but it’s really not.
"You remember that thing we learned in English?" Shauna says suddenly. "About that guy who rolled the rock up the hill?"
Jackie frowns. "What?"
"Sisyphus. He pushes the rock up the hill, but it just rolls back down every time. He has to do it forever."
Jackie snorts. "Yeah. That sucks."
Shauna hums in agreement. When they learned about it in class, she hadn’t cared much, just another guy getting punished for something he probably deserved. But now, sitting here, she thinks maybe she gets it. There’s something to be said for inevitability. For knowing how things will go, every time.
(Jackie asks. Shauna deflects. Jackie keeps trying. Shauna won’t let her in.)
Shauna swallows. "Yeah. It does suck.”
Jackie leans into her just slightly, shoulder to shoulder. "I think you should talk to me more," she says, soft but insistent.
Shauna swallows again, harder this time. "I do."
Jackie laughs, because they both know that’s not true. "Not like that. I mean, really talk to me. About…” She gestures vaguely, like the words are just out of reach.
About why I’m sitting out here instead of inside with the rest of them. About why I can’t look at you for too long sometimes. About why I feel sick when I think about you and Jeff together.
”About stuff.”
Shauna shakes her head. "You wouldn’t get stuff."
Jackie sighs, tipping her head back to look at the sky. "You always say that."
Because it’s always true.
—
Now, the car. Jackie slides into the driver’s seat, adjusting the mirrors even though she probably won’t have to drive very far. She glances over at Shauna, who’s already got her eyes half-closed, head against the window.
“You’re gonna be hungover tomorrow,” Jackie says, and she sounds amused. Shauna hums noncommittally. Jackie turns the key in the ignition. “You’re super welcome, by the way.”
Shauna sighs, already feeling the dull pulse of a headache at the base of her skull. She should say thank you, but honestly, it would just hurt. The road hums beneath them, dark and endless. Jackie drives carefully, her hands are tight on the wheel, shoulders squared. Shauna watches her out of the corner of her eye, head lolling against the seat.
“Jax, aren’t you drunk?”
Jackie rolls her eyes, a flicker of white in the darkness of the car. ”Not enough to count.”
Shauna closes her eyes again, streetlights zipping past like a reel of memories, like a badly edited montage in a movie, spliced-together moments bleeding into one another. She dreams, half-heartedly, of Jackie shoving a Twizzler into her mouth at a sleepover in seventh grade, laughing when Shauna choked on the sugar. Jackie lying across her bed, flipping through a Seventeen magazine, feet kicking in the air. Jackie’s pinkie hooked around hers during a horror movie at Natalie’s house, squeezing every time the music swelled. Jackie changing in front of her after practice, peeling off her sweat-damp sports bra, casual, thoughtless. Looking too long. Jackie, last summer, in the lake, water up to her collarbones, slicking her hair back, eyes catching the light just right. “You coming in or what?”
Shauna, breathless, wanting. For what? For what? To be seen, to be understood, to be completely, totally, different. She hates herself for how she is and she hates herself even more for thinking it. And now, Jackie, next to her, barely outlined by the night’s glow, lip caught between her teeth, eyes fixed on the road. Shauna swallows hard.
“Pull over,” she says.
Jackie glances at her. “What? No.”
“Pull over,” Shauna says again, more urgent, because if she doesn’t, she might do something stupid, like throw up, or say something she can’t take back, or grab Jackie’s hand and tangle their fingers together.
Jackie sighs, but she does it, easing the car onto the shoulder. The gravel crunches beneath the tires. For a second, they just sit there.
Jackie looks over. “Are you gonna puke?”
Shauna shakes her head, no.
“Then what?”
Shauna doesn’t know how to say it. She just needed the road to stop moving so she could catch up. Jackie is so close, so close, and Shauna feels like she’s burning alive.
“You’re drunk too.”
Jackie scoffs. “Why are we back on this?”
”No, I’m just saying.” Shauna turns to look at Jackie, who is quite deliberately avoiding eye contact. “Why’d you pull over? You didn’t have to.”
Jackie opens her mouth like she has an answer, then closes it again. Outside, the night is quiet. The air in the car between them is not. Jackie exhales, rubbing a hand over her face.
“Okay, we’re both drunk.” Jackie concedes.
The car’s headlights cut weakly through the dark. Shauna can see all the points of illumination on Jackie’s face: the soft line of her jaw, the bridge of her nose, a strand of hair plastered to her forehead. Jackie pauses as if about to speak. Then she brings her finger up to her lips, chewing her nail.
Shauna pulls her knees up, hugging them loosely. Jackie slumps against the headrest. Silence settles between them for some time, thick and impenetrable. Shauna sees that this is going nowhere. Her sudden explosion of courage has simmered back into its usual irritation. Of course. She can open up to Jackie, but god forbid Jackie talk to her. She doesn’t know what she expected, when Jackie hardly sees her at all. She’s not even looking at her.
“You gonna start driving again?”
Jackie doesn’t move, bottom lip trembling slightly. “No.”
Shauna waits for an explanation, but Jackie doesn’t offer one. She keeps staring straight ahead, out at the empty road. Something inside Shauna twists. She wants to say Why not? She wants to say What’s your deal? She wants to say What are we even doing? but instead, she just watches Jackie’s profile, the way her lips part slightly, the way her fingers tighten against the steering wheel, like she’s trying to hold herself in place. And then, suddenly, Jackie turns to her.
The shift happens so fast Shauna barely registers it before Jackie is leaning in, denim skirt catching on the handbrake as she turns to the passenger seat, and Jackie’s lips press against hers.
Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.
Shauna freezes, then surges forward, politeness aside, trying to make it rough, trying to get something out of her, this frustration that has nowhere to go, but Jackie… well, Jackie has always been good at controlling her, and it wouldn’t be any different now. She slows it down, drags her teeth over Shauna’s bottom lip before kissing her softer, deeper, making Shauna’s fingers go lax where they were about to grab onto Jackie’s jacket. It’s infuriating.
Jackie’s hands slide up to cup her face. Shauna feels like she’s sinking, like the whole world is narrowing down to Jackie’s mouth, Jackie’s hands, Jackie pressing closer, like maybe, just maybe, she’s wanted this just as badly, just as long. At some point, Shauna doesn’t know exactly when, doesn’t know how, Jackie ends up on her lap, Shauna’s back against the car door, her legs spread just enough to make space, and then Jackie is climbing over, straddling her like it’s the most natural thing in the world, like they do this all the time. Jackie’s hands are in her hair, tilting her head back, deepening the kiss, and Shauna should have the upper hand here. She wants to have the upper hand. But Jackie, beautiful Jackie, she’s always making her feel small, isn’t she? Isn’t she?
Jackie presses down on Shauna’s thighs, just slightly, just enough to make Shauna’s breath hitch, and Shauna has to press her legs together to stop the dull ache, the throbbing. Jackie’s nails drag lightly against the nape of Shauna’s neck, and Shauna shivers, gripping at Jackie’s waist, trying to ground herself. She needs Jackie so badly it’s pathetic. Her fingers twitch against Jackie’s hips. Her mind is a mess of static and heat. She should say something. She should stop this before it spirals into something they can’t take back, but Jackie is kissing her again, slow and purposeful, like she knows exactly what she’s doing to Shauna, like she’s meant to do this all along, so who’s Shauna to stop her?
Jackie’s thumbs are pushing just under the hem of Shauna’s sweatshirt, skating against bare skin. Shauna swallows hard, she should say something. Instead, what comes out is a breathy, “I don’t—”
Jackie hums, tilting her head. “You don’t what?”
Shauna shakes her head. “I don’t think we should be doing this again.”
Jackie just looks at her, seemingly scoffing. She leans in and drags her tongue up Shauna’s jaw, all the way, landing just under her eye. Shauna gasps and fists her hands into Jackie’s jacket, unsure if she’s trying to pull her closer or push her away.
“No?” Jackie murmurs, her lips just barely brushing Shauna’s.
Shauna breathes out sharply, the sound almost a laugh. “Fine.”
Jackie smiles. “Good. Relax, then.”
Relax. Relax. Like Shauna could possibly relax right now, with Jackie on top of her, Jackie’s hands pushing under her sweatshirt, Jackie’s lips over her jaw, down to the curve of her throat. Shauna tilts her head back without thinking, a small, embarrassing noise catching in her throat.
“Oh—oh, fuck—“
Jackie stills. Then pulls back.
“You sure this is okay?” Jackie asks, quietly, pulling the neckline of Shauna’s sweatshirt down a little, tracing her tongue over her collarbones. Shauna finds herself nodding frantically, tilting her chin up and panting.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”
This isn’t a thing. They don’t talk about it, because talking about it makes it real, and making it real would ruin everything. They need each other too much to ruin this. They need this too much to stop.
Jackie shifts against her, the car seat creaking underneath them, and Shauna feels lightheaded, overwhelmed, wanting.
“C’mere.” Jackie murmurs, and the way she says it, like it means something, like she means something…
Shauna doesn’t think, she just kisses her again.
Jackie’s lips smile against Shauna’s, and she tilts her head, fingers threading into Shauna’s hair, nails scraping lightly against her scalp. It makes Shauna shudder, makes her grip the back of Jackie’s jacket like she’s afraid of her slipping away.
“Yeah?” Jackie murmurs against her mouth.
Shauna exhales. Nods. Jackie’s hands move lower, skimming down the sides of her body, pulling on the fabric, making Shauna hyper-aware of everything, her own pulse, the heat of Jackie’s skin, the way their breaths are uneven and heavy in the cramped space of the car.
Shauna exhales a short, shaky laugh. “This is…”
Jackie presses her mouth against the corner of Shauna’s jaw, stopping whatever thought was forming, and Shauna lets herself get lost in it, in her, in the weight pressing her down, making her feel small and held at the same time. It’s clumsy, a little messy, both of them too drunk to be careful but too desperate to stop. Jackie pulls Shauna’s sweatshirt off over her head, and begins to move against her, deliberate, like she’s testing something. Shauna exhales hard, hands tightening around whatever she can grab.
Jackie leans back slightly, searching her face. “Can I keep going?”
Shauna swallows, nods, because there’s no way she can say anything else. Jackie’s eyes flick down to her lips, then lower, where Shauna’s shirt is pushed up, her stomach exposed to the cool air. Jackie drags her nails lightly down Shauna’s side, pressing into the dip of her waist, and Shauna actually whines. Jackie smiles, pleased with herself. She subtly shifts her position so she’s now perched on Shauna’s thigh, and kisses her again, deeper, making Shauna arch into it, press up against her. Jackie moves again, gasping, and pressing down just right, and Shauna’s fingers spasm against the back of Jackie’s neck. Jackie’s now steadily grinding up and down against Shauna’s thigh, holding onto her t-shirt to keep anchored, panting and flushed and gorgeous. Shauna can barely keep a groan from slipping out.
“Shh,” Jackie immediately hushes her, barely above a whisper.
Shauna makes a noise in the back of her throat, something between frustration and disbelief. “You’re such an—“
Jackie clamps her mouth with a warm hand, cutting her off, pushing her back into the seat. She pushes down harder against Shauna’s thigh, stealing all her breath. Shauna lets her, and all the alcohol in her system has pooled somewhere low and stupid and dangerous. She’s so wet.
”You’re gonna be quiet?”
Shauna nods, head bobbing up and down again like an obedient rescue dog, which is frankly embarassing for her. She sinks her teeth into Jackie’s hand to remind her that she can still bite, and Jackie’s reaction is unexpected. Shauna can see her face heating up in the dim glow of the car. Upon realising Shauna can see this, Jackie pulls back, just slightly. She wrings her hand out, muttering something about saliva, but starts kissing along Shauna’s jaw immediately after. Then lower, down her neck, just over the slope of her collarbone, under the neckline of her shirt. Each kiss is warm and wet and deliberate, and they leave marks, Shauna can feel them. The smudge of Jackie’s lipstick dragging across her skin, messy little flags planted wherever Jackie wants to claim. It should piss her off. It should.
Instead, it lights something up in her. A live wire of electricity tangled with shame and heat and the kind of twisted thrill she’ll absolutely hate herself for later. But the truth is, Jackie could do anything to her right now, and she wouldn’t stop her. Even worse: she’d like it. She likes the way Jackie’s in control, the way she makes Shauna feel pliable and soft, like she’s been waiting her whole life to be told what to do—if it’s by Jackie. Only Jackie, who’s still slowly grinding on Shauna’s thigh, slower and more languid this time.
Shauna’s breath comes out in a shaky whisper. “You’re gonna leave marks.”
Jackie doesn’t stop kissing Shauna’s neck. Doesn’t even slow down. “I know,” she murmurs.
And fuck, Shauna has to close her eyes, because that does something to her. I know. Of course she does. Jackie knows exactly what she’s doing. Shauna’s whole body is buzzing now. She’s drunk and warm and easy in a way that feels foreign, like she’s become someone else entirely. Someone who doesn’t need to think, only feel. And right now, she feels wrecked.
“You say you’ve got yourself all figured out,” Jackie murmurs, hand sliding gently between Shauna’s thighs, which are now quivering. Her hand’s not moving, just resting there. “But you like it when I tell you what to do. How to act. Who to hook up with.”
Shauna doesn’t answer. She can’t, her body is already saying yes, no matter what her mind thinks. She watches Jackie’s lipstick-stained smile through half-lidded eyes. She moves in a soft, coaxing way. Her hand slides over Shauna’s, lacing their fingers, dragging it up, guiding it like she’s giving her permission to touch, so Shauna does. Hesitant at first—half-expecting to be swatted away, to be laughed at, to wake up and find this all gone. Still, Jackie just leans in closer, breath warm at her ear, and says, “You can.” So Shauna does.
Jackie shrugs off her red jacket. Shauna lets her hand cup and press, fingers shaking a little, trying to memorize the shape of her under her layers, under her shirt. It’s surreal. It's insane. It’s something she’s imagined a thousand times in the shower, in bed, in her trig class, but it’s real now. Every time Shauna gets too bold, Jackie redirects her, soft hands over hers, making her slow down, feel it, do it right. Jackie knows exactly what Shauna wants from this, and she’s going to make her work for it. Shauna’s breathing gets heavier, her whole body tensed. She’s dizzy, not just from the alcohol now but from her.
Jackie tilts her head, lips brushing Shauna’s jaw again, murmuring, “You like that?”
Shauna nods before she can even think about it. Her voice catches in her throat, stuck somewhere between a whimper and a moan.
“God, Shipman,” Jackie whispers, voice satisfied. “You’re so good when it’s me.”
Shauna, burning, unraveling, heart hammering, doesn’t deny it. She watches Jackie with wide eyes, her own hand still hovering again like it’s not entirely hers, like she needs clearance for every inch. Jackie reaches down again, curling her fingers around Shauna’s wrist.
“Come on, here,” Jackie says, dragging Shauna’s hand even higher, just over her bra. Her voice is low and too even, like she’s been waiting to say this all night. “Under.”
Shauna just obeys. Her fingers slip beneath the fabric, brushing the lace, warm skin meeting warmer skin, and she’s sure her brain shuts off for a second. Her thumb’s brushing over the soft swell of her breast, and it hits her all at once.
Jackie inhales, sharp and pleased, “Fuck—fuck. Wowza.”
Shauna laughs a little, and Jackie does too. It’s so her. Jackie shifts closer, maybe a little damp against Shauna’s thigh.
“A bit more?”
Shauna adjusts and adapts, as she always does, pressing more firmly, the pad of her thumb flicking softly over Jackie’s nipple. She feels it, whatever it is. Jackie shudders, sighing. It makes something spike in Shauna’s chest, but before she can chase it, Jackie leans in again, mouth hot at her ear. “Use your other hand too.”
Shauna’s breath stutters out of her, shaky and half-swallowed. She fumbles a little, but she listens. Jackie helps her along, hands skimming down Shauna’s arms like she’s sculpting her into the shape she wants, and Shauna wants to be Jackie’s Venus de Milo.
“There. Like that. Yeah, yeah, a little slower?”
Shauna groans under her breath, the sound embarrassing and involuntary. Her hands move just how Jackie wants, kneading gently, then firmer, feeling every curve, every soft shiver under her palms.
“God, you’re good at this,” Jackie breathes, lips dragging along the column of Shauna’s neck again. “But you’d do anything I told you to, wouldn’t you?”
Shauna nods before she can stop herself. Her face burns. She hates how much she means it.
“Say it.”
Shauna’s voice is ragged. “I’d do anything.”
Jackie grins, still fucking pressing. “For me, Shipman.”
Shauna’s hands tighten slightly, and her whole body arches toward Jackie without thinking. “For you, yeah—shit, for you.”
Jackie kisses her, hard this time, swallowing whatever’s left of her. Shauna feels stripped bare in the most thrilling way. Her breath is coming in short, uneven bursts. Jackie studies her like she’s measuring how far she can push, and she must like what she sees, because then she says it.
“Lower.”
Shauna freezes. Jackie’s still holding her gaze, calm and expectant like this is inevitable, like they were always going to end up here. Her hands are still beneath Jackie’s top, but now she’s acutely aware of how much more space there is to navigate, how much further she could go. She moves her hands an inch downward, and Jackie doesn’t stop her. Another inch. Jackie’s breath hitches, her body leaning into it, just slightly. Shauna’s fingers tremble. She’s not sure if she’s terrified or high on this, on her, on the way Jackie keeps her teetering on the edge of something ruinous.
“Here,” Jackie whispers, guiding her again, always guiding, like she’s letting Shauna pretend to be in control. Her hand ghosts over Shauna’s wrist, nudging her lower still, until she’s pressing her palm against Jackie’s stomach, just above her skirt.
The heat is overwhelming. Jackie tilts her head, smiling, slow and mean and beautiful.
“You want me to stop you?” she asks.
Shauna flounders. “No.”
“Then keep going. Please?”
Shauna does keep going. She unbuttons Jackie’s skirt with clumsy, shaking fingers. She slips her hand down, under the waistband, past everything polite. Jackie exhales hard, her mouth falling open in an O shape as her head tips back against the seat. Shauna touches her, tentative at first, then bolder. Jackie guides her rhythm, hips rolling slowly, murmuring little directions like there and gentler and don’t stop, each one tightening the coil in Shauna’s stomach until she feels like she’s going to split apart. And God, the power in it—the fact that Jackie’s undone like this, because of her. But it’s not really power, not with Jackie. It’s something else. Shauna’s the one obeying. Jackie’s the one leading her down, showing her what it means to be needed like this. Every whimper Jackie makes is like a medal pinned to Shauna’s chest, and when Jackie reaches for her, grabbing her face and dragging her in for another kiss, Shauna moans into it, desperate and grateful and lost. She doesn't care if it ruins her, because tonight, she wants nothing more than to be ruined by Jackie.
She takes advantage of a new angle, and leans in to kiss Jackie’s neck, the underside of her jaw. Her skin tastes like rosewater, like everything sweet and clean and off-limits that always draws her closer. Jackie’s breath is labored against her lips, each shuddering gasp sending a shiver through her. Shauna closes her eyes and listens, committing every sound to memory, her own fingers pressing, tracing, exploring. Jackie’s hips arch off the seat, seeking more, and Shauna gives it to her. She presses deeper, angles her fingers, and Jackie gasps like she’s been electrified, back bowing, the muscles in her thighs tensing. She’s shaking now, clinging to Shauna’s shoulders, fingernails digging in.
Shauna bites back a moan at the feeling of Jackie all around her. Tries and fails to keep her own breath even, to remember how to speak. She leans her forehead against Jackie’s, pressing her lips to her temple.
“Is this good?” she whispers.
Jackie laughs, breathless. “Yeah. Good. Really—oh.”
Shauna presses up, gently, feels the heat and the wetness around her fingers, the gasp, the way Jackie’s body moves with her. It’s good, knowing her like this, knowing what it takes to push her right to the edge. It’s not something she’s ever thought she’d be able to have. It’s not something she knows how to keep.
“Don’t stop,” Jackie says, ragged. Her hips shift, restless, desperate. “Please. I—I think I’m—gonna, you know.”
Shauna knows, she knows exactly what Jackie’s feeling right now, each desperate rock of her hips, the trembling in her hands, the way everything around them seems to disappear and condense down to the space between their bodies. She picks up the pace a little, the heel of her hand grinding against where Jackie’s hottest, wettest, and it’s like watching a match catch fire. Jackie’s whole body tenses, her hands flying up to clutch at the car seat. She lets out a shuddering moan, a strangled version of Shauna’s name, and Shauna swears her heart skips a beat at the sound, that out of all the things she’s done, this is what undoes her completely. She leans in, kissing and biting at Jackie’s jawline, savoring the way Jackie clings to her, the way she falls apart to the sound of Shauna’s voice.
“God,” Jackie gasps, and it sounds like a religious experience. Shauna’s always liked the Saints.
“I’ve got you,” Shauna whispers against her skin, the closest thing to a confession she’s ever dared make. Jackie lets out a broken heave, her body curling around her, every inch of her trembling. Shauna gentles her fingers against her clit, drawing it out, every throb a wave crashing against her. Jackie buries her face in the crook of Shauna’s neck, breathing her in like a lifeline. The noises she’s letting out are pornographic, so loud there’s no way anyone outside wouldn’t know what they’re doing, and Shauna has to use her free hand to press on the back of Jackie’s head to muffle them. Her own body is flushed and hot and aching with want, but right now all she cares about is how Jackie shivers against her.
It feels like forever and like no time at all before Jackie finally stills, a low keening whine escaping her, her body going slack. Shauna keeps her hand still, listening to Jackie’s breathing level out, trying to regain some control over herself. There’s a long moment of silence, broken only by the sound of their ragged breaths. Then Jackie lets out a soft, shaky laugh.
“Wow,” she says, barely above a whisper, and Shauna laughs too. Her hand slips out from beneath Jackie’s skirt, and the loss of contact leaves her feeling cold and empty in an unfamiliar way. She pulls back, taking in the sight of Jackie sitting across from her: lips swollen, hair messy, cheeks flushed pink. Shauna’s finger is still slick with come, and she shakes her hand a little bit. She didn’t really prepare for this.
“Let me help you with that,” Jackie suddenly says in this throaty, attempting-to-be-seductive voice, and that’s so much worse. In one fluid motion she grabs the hand Shauna hasn’t yet cleaned and brings it up to her mouth, licking her own come off her fingers with this slow, devastating focus. It’s like she forgets that Shauna’s already about halfway out of her mind with want, as if those long, languid strokes of her tongue aren’t the filthiest thing Shauna’s ever seen. It’s just too much, and all at once it’s like her brain short-circuits. She makes this noise, this guttural, low sound that betrays just how turned on she is. It’s almost humiliating, that all it takes is Jackie’s mouth, a few well-placed touches, and this slow, agonizing burn she’s kept tamped down for years now, and it’s enough to destroy all her walls.
Jackie smiles at her as she releases Shauna’s fingers, the gesture obscene in its simplicity.
“Your turn?” she says, like she’s discussing the weather. Shauna opens her mouth, trying to remember any words. Something like “Yes, please,” is all she manages.
“Turn around, then,” Jackie instructs, and the words go right through her, that firm tone in her voice doing unspeakable things to Shauna’s insides. Shauna obeys, moving across the seat, and this new angle feels strange and vulnerable and incredibly, unspeakably hot. She’s not sure how she ends up on her knees, her hands pressed hard against the seat, her hair falling in tangled waves to obscure her vision.
Then suddenly Jackie’s there, pressed up behind her, her arms coming around her waist, her hips rolling into the curve of Shauna’s ass. Shauna gasps, and Jackie huffs a soft laugh, lips skating across her neck.
“You good?” Jackie asks again, the words a hot breath against Shauna’s skin, and if she asks that one more time she’s gonna lose her mind.
“Yeah. Good. Really good,” Shauna stammers, her words fading into another shaky hiccupy moan as Jackie’s hands slide up her sides, slipping her shirt up over her head. Jackie’s mouth is everywhere at once, lips and teeth and tongue tracing a hot, wet path from her collarbone to her shoulder to the sensitive spot behind her ear.
Everything builds, this steady stream of sparks dancing beneath her skin. She tries to press back, wanting more, more, more, but Jackie’s hands are firm and steady on her waist, holding her in place. One of them snakes lower, fingers slipping into the front of her jeans, and all of Shauna’s muscles go tight in anticipation. The button gives way with one quick tug, followed by the click of her zipper.
Shauna has to bite back a whine as Jackie’s hand grazes her hipbone, slipping beneath the fabric and under the edge of her underwear. Her touch is so teasing, so close to where she needs it most, that she just about loses her mind when Jackie’s hand disappears completely.
“Not yet,” is all Jackie says, and if Shauna’s hands weren’t currently gripping the seat, she’d probably be clawing at something instead. She’s shaking now, all but whimpering with every desperate brush of Jackie’s lips against her neck. She’s never felt this turned on in her life.
Jackie’s free hand skims past her waist, up her stomach, her ribcage, until finally it’s wrapped around her throat, fingers brushing the underside of her jaw. She brings Shauna’s head back to rest on her shoulder, and the position is somehow both intimate and absolutely ridiculous.
“How long have you wanted this?” Jackie murmurs, her voice hot and sweet against Shauna’s ear.
“Years,” Shauna manages, the word a low, strained gasp.
“I know,” Jackie says.
Shauna’s so out of her mind the sound she makes as Jackie’s hand finally moves is almost embarrassing, a ragged, needy whine escaping her. Jackie’s fingertips skate over her, pulling her panties aside and finding the wetness between her thighs. The touch is unbearably light, so close and so far at once, and all Shauna can do is writhe against the pressure.
“Please,” she gasps, the word barely audible.
“Please what?” Jackie asks, her hand stilling.
“Stop fucking with me,” Shauna pants, her eyes squeezing shut.
“Aw, but I like fucking with you,” Jackie says, and there’s a teasing edge to her voice that has Shauna useless and pathetic. Jackie’s fingers circle her clit, still frustratingly light and gentle, and Shauna has to close her eyes again so as not to come apart completely. She’s not even in her body anymore, just a quivering, shaking mess of sensations, and she’d do anything, say anything, if it would just get Jackie to touch her harder.
“Jackie,” she begs, and then Jackie’s hand finally moves, firmer, this slow, deep pressure that has Shauna crying out in surprise, her body spasming against the touch.
“Like this?” Jackie asks, and she knows exactly what she’s doing to her. The fact that this is what Jackie wants just makes it so much worse. “You have to tell me what you want.”
Shauna’s thoughts are spinning, the sensations overwhelming. All she wants to do is push back against Jackie, to get that perfect pressure where she needs it, but she can’t move with the way Jackie’s gripping her. She’s so far gone that she just blurts out the first thing that comes to mind.
“Tell me I’m doing good,” she gasps, instantly regretting it.
There’s a beat of silence, and then Jackie’s lips are back on her neck, a soft kiss just below her ear. “You’re doing so good,” she whispers, and the sound of her voice in Shauna’s ear sets her body alight, a shudder running down her spine. She’s rewarded with the barest increase of pressure, just enough to make her arch in Jackie’s arms, desperate and wanton.
“Oh—” Jackie gasps, and the words are half question, half breathless moan, like she’s just as affected as Shauna. “You like hearing that?”
All Shauna can do is groan in response, her thoughts reduced to a mindless jumble of want and need and Jackie, Jackie, Jackie. She’s so close it’s almost painful, and Jackie knows it, every touch deliberate and devastating.
“You’re doing so, so good for me,” Jackie murmurs again, the last word almost a groan. It sends a jolt of heat through Shauna, her body thrumming in response.
“Please,” she gasps, her words ragged and shameless. “Jackie, fuck, please.”
The sound Jackie makes at that is almost animalistic, hungry and possessive in a way that makes Shauna’s stomach flutter. Good is so important to her, something she’s chased her whole life, and there’s no one whose opinion is more important than Jackie’s. To hear it from her now, in this setting, after all these years, feels like a revelation.
“Need more,” Shauna gasps, her breaths coming in sharp, uneven bursts.
Jackie complies, her fingers moving in firm, steady circles, building a rhythm that is both unbearably perfect and agonizingly slow. Shauna’s not gonna last. She’s shaking now, a wave of fire coursing through her veins, and every touch from Jackie is gasoline. It feels like madness, like the whole world has condensed down to this, to the way her body is responding, helpless and desperate.
“Is that good, Shipman?” Jackie whispers against her ear, and fuck, that’s it.
It’s too much, the words, the sensations, this impossible pull she’s been fighting for years and years finally giving way beneath her, and she collapses forward, bracing an arm against the car window. The world seems to go white as the orgasm washes over her, her whole body rigid with the tension and release of it all, and she’s shaking and keening and crying out in ways she’s never done before, and Jackie’s name tastes like a benediction on her tongue. It slowly ebbs, and Shauna sinks back against Jackie’s chest, shivering and gasping. Jackie is saying something, a soft murmur of praise against her skin. Shauna can’t quite make out the words, but the softness voice is like a hum of satisfaction through her body. She feels raw and exhausted and absolutely blissed out, and she’s not sure if this is real or a dream.
They stay like that for a while, just the press of sweat-slicked skin against trembling flesh. Shauna’s body feels languid and slow, like she’s made of melting butter. Finally, she lets out a soft sigh, turning to bury her face in the crook of Jackie’s neck.
“You with me?” Jackie asks, her tone so tender Shauna almost wants to cry.
“Mmm,” is all she can manage. She feels like she could float away right now, like the only thing anchoring her to earth is Jackie’s hands on her skin.
Jackie laughs gently, the sound sweet and fond. “That’s good. You’re all good.”
She presses a kiss to Shauna’s forehead, her hands smoothing down her back, warm and soothing. Slowly, Shauna’s brain starts to come back, and her skin is suddenly too hot, sweat still clinging to her damp body.
She lets out a small noise of protest, shifting against Jackie. “Ugh, I’m gross.”
“You’re not gross,” Jackie insists, and something about the way she says it makes Shauna smile.
She finally pulls back, straightening up, trying to will her legs to stop shaking. There’s a mess between her thighs, and the wetness sticks to her skin, making her squirm. Jackie watches her, her expression soft and hazy with affection. The sight makes Shauna’s heart ache.
“C’mere,” Jackie says, tugging on her arm, and it takes Shauna a second to realize her meaning.
She obediently crawls over, settling down on top of Jackie, her legs on either side of her. She should probably be embarrassed at the way the weight of her presses down into all the most sensitive parts of Jackie, but all it does is make her want more. Jackie threads a hand through her hair, scratching at her scalp, and Shauna sighs, letting her head fall forward onto Jackie’s shoulder. Jackie’s arms wrap around her back. They stay there in silence for a bit, Shauna listening to the steady thump of Jackie’s heart beneath her ear, the way her breathing has finally started to even out. There’s a certain peace that’s settled over her now, a strange sort of drunk certainty that this is what her body was meant for all along, to be pressed up against Jackie like this. She feels Jackie’s hand on her cheek, nudging her face up, and she opens her eyes, meeting her gaze.
Jackie’s still smiling, this impossibly fond expression on her face. It makes something in Shauna’s chest clench tight, like her heart is too big for her ribcage. She’s suddenly filled with a familiar, desperate need to confess something, anything, to give some voice to this impossible, messy feeling thrumming through her. But then there’s a flicker of headlights, the sweep of them over the car, the sound of an approaching engine. They both freeze, breath catching in their throats.
It only takes a second for the realization to sink in, but it’s long enough for the car to pass by, its lights fading in the distance.
They exhale in tandem, and a laugh bubbles up in Shauna’s throat, nervous and breathy. “Holy shit.”
“Yeah,” Jackie agrees, her voice shaky with a similar mix of adrenaline and relief.
Shauna rolls off her, pulling her legs up so they’re not dangling off the seat, trying to push aside the pang of loss at the distance. There’s a beat of stillness, both of them collecting themselves, before Jackie bursts out laughing again, this soft, breathy giggle that makes Shauna’s heart flutter. Shauna can’t help it. She starts giggling too, and soon they’re both in hysterics, this uncontrollable, infectious fit that only seems to fuel itself. She’s not sure if the nervous energy has finally started to bleed out of her, or if she’s just feeling giddy, but the laughter shakes through her like a shiver, leaving her lightheaded. Jackie leans closer again, pressing her face against Shauna’s shoulder, and her body is shaking with laughter too, little tremors running through her. They’re probably too loud, but Shauna can’t find it in herself to care, their voices blending into a single sound in the cramped space. She feels reckless and wild and absolutely drunk on it all, like she could laugh forever and never grow tired of this feeling.
They stay tangled in the heavy quiet for a long time afterward, the windows fogged, the air still humming with the aftershock. Jackie draws a heart in the condensation, and they don’t say anything. Jackie puts her jacket back on and leans her head back, eyes closed like she’s already calmly erasing the whole thing from her internal hard drive. And Shauna knows, knows, this is the part where it all snaps back into place.
Tomorrow, Jackie will probably pretend it didn’t happen. Or worse, pretend it did but that it didn’t matter. She’ll say something flippant. She’ll twist it into a joke or a mistake or a “we were drunk, oh my God, Shauna.” She’ll laugh in that way she does when she’s building a wall and inviting you to bang your head against it. Shauna will play along. Because that’s the deal. That’s always been the deal. They don’t talk about the way Jackie looks at her sometimes. They don’t talk about that night at the sleepover two years ago when Jackie asked if she wanted to practice kissing, “just for fun.” They don’t talk about how Shauna said no even though she wanted to say please.
So yeah. They probably won’t talk about this either.
But right now, sitting in the passenger seat of her own car with her thighs still shaking and her chest full of some awful, brilliant, tender thing… Shauna doesn’t care. Because for once, Jackie gave her something without taking it back in the same breath. For once, she got to have it. Even if just for the night.
And even if it disappears by morning, right now it’s hers.