The Holy Trinity {Grace, Hannah, Mamrie} | Oneshots

Tease {Hartbig}

Grace has never looked more beautiful than she does right now, Hannah decides. This is her favourite Grace; the no-make-up, messy-up-do-and-jean-shorts Grace.

She's sitting across the room, laughing at a story that Mamrie has been recounting for the past twenty minutes, the sun shining delicately on her face. Her skin is gently tanned, and she crosses one long leg over the other before glancing at Hannah. Her brown eyes look almost golden in this light, and Hannah swears that she sees a flash of mischief dart through them before she turns away again. Hannah also swears that she sees Grace press her thighs together and raise her chin slightly, as if in pleasure. This girl will be the death of her, she realises, as the muscles is Grace's legs tense and relax.

Right up until Mamrie stands to leave, Grace teases Hannah. She's subtle enough that her friend won't notice, but is sure to make Hannah's eyes widen a couple of times.

Be it a slow, deliberate lip bite, or a stretch that causes her top to ride up and expose her toned torso, Grace Helbig knows exactly what she's doing. She's every inch the femme fatale.

When Mamrie's Uber arrives, and the girls hug each other goodbye, Grace declines Mamrie's offer of a carpool, saying that her and Hannah are filming a video before she leaves.

Oopth.

As soon as the door closes, Hannah is pressed up against it. All that she can taste, smell and hear is Grace. Her lips, her perfume, her sharp inhalations. Grace is stamped all over Hannah's body like the most beautiful and intricate tattoo; her arms are covered in their memories, her hands marked with Grace's pleasure, her chest a painting of her lover's heart.

Somehow, they make it to the bedroom still attached at the lips. Clothes are shed and profanities muttered as hands explore as if for the first time, not the thousandth.

Hannah touches Grace as if in awe, as if she is a delicate flower or precious gem that is almost too easy to break. She savours every single gaze and touch and noise, imprinting every inch of this beautiful woman into her memory, like it could all be taken from her right this second. Like it might just be a dream.

Grace has totally lost her inhibitions, and makes no attempt to silence the string of curse words tumbling from her slightly parted lips. Her cheeks and chest are flushed, and the unrhythmic movement of Hannah's hand and mouth cause her breath to be pulled out of her in short, sharp gasps.

Suddenly, all is silent. The entirety of Grace's body tenses for a few seconds, and Hannah keeps up her syncopated movements. Then, a small, content sigh escapes the taller girl's lips and she relaxes completely. Hannah kisses her way back up to Grace's mouth, pausing at different points on her stomach and neck.

They lay atop the sheets for a while, each and every groove of their bodies pressed together. Grace idly strokes Hannah's hair, and traces intricate patterns onto her arms, back and shoulders.

It takes no longer than ten minutes for Grace to regain her composure. She grins lopsidedly at Hannah, her eyes sparking teasingly. At first, Hannah doesn't understand why. Then, she feels a knowing hand exactly where she needs it. She can't help but bite her lip in disappointment as the hand withdraws almost as quickly as it appeared. Confusion etches its way onto her features, until Grace is straddling her and looking down, all messy hair and mischief. Slowly, deliberately, she slips her leg in between Hannah's own, and watches as she raises her hips instantly, desperate for more friction. Grace is keeping herself steady on her elbows, but drops down completely to suck and bite at Hannah's neck, and stops teasing entirely.

Grace watches as Hannah falls apart beneath her touch. She looks so lascivious, sensual and downright wanton. Even the simplest turn of her wrist has Hannah moaning and tugging on Grace's hair. She lays there, eyes closed, biting down on her lip, and Grace can't look away, not even for a second. She wants to memorise the way the shorter girl's breathing changes suddenly, and the way the sheets crinkle beneath her. She wants to remember the frantic rise and fall of her chest, and the look of complete bliss that paints itself all over her body.

Hannah has never looked more beautiful than she does right now, Grace decides. This is her favourite Hannah; the desperate-hands, tousled-hair-and-moaning Hannah.