How Did It End? (HamBebe)

Religion's in Your Lips | The Altar is My Hips

"What happened last night?" Gwen asks, her voice gentle but tinged with worry. 

Sheena groans, burying her face in her hands. The pounding in her head is relentless, and Gwen's soft voice somehow makes it worse and better all at once. 

"Come on, Bebe," Gwen says, crouching down in front of her. "You look awful. Let's get you cleaned up." 

Sheena blinks at her, disoriented. "Okay lang ako..." 

"No, you're not. Stop being stubborn," Gwen chides, her tone soft but firm as she hooks an arm around Sheena to pull her up. "You reek of alcohol, and you're sweating through your clothes. This isn't fine." 

Gwen half-carries, half-guides her to the bedroom, her touch steady and warm. Sheena stumbles, but Gwen doesn't falter, her grip tightening around her waist. 

When they reach the bed, Gwen sits her down and brushes a strand of hair from Sheena's face, her thumb grazing her cheek. "Stay here, okay? I'll be right back." 

Sheena watches her disappear into the bathroom, the sound of running water filling the room. When Gwen returns, she's holding a steaming towel, her expression still sweetly annoyed. 

"You're impossible," Gwen mutters as she kneels in front of Sheena. "Hold still." 

The warmth of the towel on her face sends a shiver down Sheena's spine, but it's Gwen's fingers, soft and deliberate, that make her breath hitch. Gwen moves with a mix of care and frustration, wiping Sheena's face, neck, and arms with meticulous attention. 

"Look at you," Gwen murmurs, her voice dipping into something almost tender. "You're lucky I love you, you know.." 

I love you more.

Sheena's stomach flips at the words, even though she knows Gwen doesn't mean them the way she wants her to. The gentle scolding, the way Gwen's hands linger—it's too much and not enough all at once. 

Before Gwen wipes her face again, she takes a toothbrush from the bathroom counter and gently brushes Sheena's teeth, working with the kind of care that makes Sheena ache inside.

When Gwen grabs the hem of Sheena's shirt, Sheena stiffens. "Relax," Gwen says, her tone soft but unyielding. "I'm just changing your clothes. You can't stay in this." 

Sheena nods, her throat dry as Gwen lifts the shirt over her head, leaving her in just her bra. The air feels heavier, thicker, as Gwen rifles through her drawer and pulls out one of her oversized shirts. 

"Arms up," Gwen instructs, and Sheena obeys, hyper-aware of every brush of Gwen's fingers against her skin as she slips the shirt on. 

"Better," Gwen says softly, smoothing the fabric over Sheena's shoulders. But her hands linger, her thumbs brushing against Sheena's collarbone, and her eyes drop for a split second before she catches herself. 

The tension between them is palpable, crackling like static electricity. Sheena can feel her heart racing, her breathing shallow. Gwen's hands are still on her, warm and steady, and she doesn't move away. 

Sheena doesn't know who moves first. Maybe it's her, leaning forward, or maybe it's Gwen, finally giving in. But suddenly, their lips meet, soft and tentative at first, then deeper, hungrier. 

Gwen's hands slide up to cup Sheena's face, her fingers threading through her hair as the kiss intensifies. Sheena pulls her closer, her hands gripping Gwen's waist, her nails digging into the fabric of her shirt. 

There's nothing soft or hesitant anymore. It's all heat and desperation, their bodies pressing together like they can't get close enough. Gwen's lips leave Sheena's, trailing down her jaw to her neck, her breath hot against her skin.