Stefanielle & Marina one shots

Makeup, Makeup (Marina smut)

Maya POV

"Can you come closer?"

I open my eyes to see my girlfriend hovering with a tube of eyeliner, her lips parted slightly and her eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

I act on instinct, my upper body leaning in to make myself more accessible to her. She smiles readily, her lips quirking upward as she continues to apply makeup.

"I need a better angle," she says after a moment, sitting back on her knees, the eyeliner still uncapped and dangling between her fingers like a cigarette.

I watch in shy interest, heat rising in my cheeks as my eyes flit fro, her fingers to her mouth, a series of compromising fantasies threatening to make themselves known.

Mentally, I slap myself.

Sure, she's my girlfriend and all but she'd never think of having me that way. My body isn't right and I've never experienced sex with anyone before. I wouldn't know what to say. Would she even enjoy it?

The feeling of hands on my shoulders brings me back and my body goes pliant under her palms, allowing her to lean me back against the pillows. She moves to straddle my torso and I suck in a breath, my skin tingling with want.

"Is this okay?" she asks, tilting her head to the side and making eye contact.

I nod briefly, too shocked to do much else.

"Okay," she leans down to keep applying the makeup before sitting up again, the shifting weight releasing a horde of butterflies in my stomach.

"Are you sure?" she asks, a hint of something more shining in her eyes. Or maybe I'm imagining it. 

I stutter out a 'yes' all the same, silently cursing myself for being so weird. She's your girlfriend, dumbass. You don't have to be nervous around her anymore.

A few moments pass by in silence where I'm sure she can hear my heart beating unsteadily.

"This side's still uneven," she says absentmindedly, turning my face to get a better look.

My eyes widen and I think I must look like a deer in headlights. Her hold on my face is gentle but firm, commanding yet reassuring, and boy does it serve as a turn on.

My  breath catches in my throat and I give a muffled cough as an excuse to break the eye contact.

How could I not be nervous when she does things like this without explanation? How am I supposed to interpret this kind of thing?

The only way to keep sane in these situations is remembering that she couldn't possibly want me that way, not when she's so perfect and experienced and I'm just... not.

Still, that doesn't mean I can't want her in silence.

"There," she says capping the tube, seemingly satisfied with her work.

She shifts her weight again for a better look and the slight friction results in my muffled gasp, one which I desperately try to play off as a yawn.

Soon, I'm going to run out of bodily excuses for my strange behaviour.

"Come see," she says warmly, pulling me up and across the room to the vanity.

Her hand is soft and strong in mine and I subconsciously squeeze it tighter.

She guides me to sit down in front of the mirror and my eyebrows shoot up in surprise at the reveal.

Skilfully winged eyeliner decorates the corners of my eyes, making them look wider and more expressive. My eyelashes also seem fuller and longer, thanks to the mascara she'd delicately brushed on.