"There it is," Camila whispers, crouched behind a bush. In the darkness of the night she is hidden from the wandering eyes of her enemy. She wields her sword, the long blade, sharpened to perfection, glints in the moonlight. Forged in the fires of Hell itself, her blade is most likely the deadliest weapon anyone could face. Her enemies — well — they were just unlucky enough to get a taste.
She looks to her right and glowing eyes stare back at her from behind a bristling tree. Her partner for this mission, her friend. He wields a bow made out of dark stone from the deepest caves on Earth and arrows with tips made from tiger bones, sharpened to a quivering point. Together they were the most feared combination in all the land. "Ready?" her partner inquires.
"Ready," Camila quips happily into her headset. She sits cross legged on the edge of her bed, her TV and game system set up conveniently at the end of it on her dresser. Her pink tongue peeks out between her lips as she manoeuvres her player out of hiding and into combat, easily taking out her targets as her partner backs her up from between the trees. "Ah — wait! Over there, in the corner. Get 'em, Mikey. I'm preoccupied."
"Save some bad boys for me, will you?" Michael grins. All the way across the world, the two still find time to play their game with each other no matter the time difference. They switch off occasionally, sometimes he'll play late at night and Camila will play during the day, or Camila will play at night and he will play during the day. The Australian boy, though quirky, was nonetheless one of Camila's closest friends.
That frustrated Dinah to no end.
Yes, Dinah had been sitting there the whole time. Against Camila's colossal mountain of pillows and stuffed animals, the agitated girl had been sulking in the comfy mess for the last three hours. It was different earlier that morning. Yes — she liked how Camila had kissed her hard against the marsh of fluffy unicorns and plush Stitch dolls, murmuring against her lips that she'd missed her so. And Dinah hummed, sending the same message back.
She liked how Camila dressed in comfy pajama shorts and loose tees to sleep, her (still!) hesitant fingers fiddling around the hem of Dinah's t-shirt. Dinah's fingers trickled along the collar of Camila's old and faded 'Amazing Spider-Man' shirt, her fingernail dragging against the faint vein at the side of her girlfriend's neck. Dinah's tongue pushed against the soft pinkness of Camila's lips which opened gladly. Her tongue met with her girlfriend's pliant one, it languidly moving against hers. Dinah's body felt warm. Camila's tongue, hot and warm, did nothing but fuel the fires in her veins, straight into her belly.
Dinah's stomach twitched with the slight pleasure and a quick, but heavy throb settled in her clit. Heat pricked at her body from all sides and she groaned, her hand moving to the back of Camila's throat to pull her in deeper, closer. Her legs spread, the younger girl's body pressed in more closely — Camila's own pelvis pressed against Dinah's swelling clit. Dinah's head turned to the side, breaking the kiss with a wet, loud smack. She whined almost inaudibly at the pressure. She was so turned on her clit almost hurt. "Fuck, Mila. Y-you...I need you to...ah-"
Camila's hips rutted forward, pressing even harder against the hard, hot bundle of nerves. She could almost feel it through Dinah's sleep shorts (she had totally convinced her to go commando the night before). Camila pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, her eyes a deep brown as she concentrated on teasing her girlfriend, thoroughly enjoying the strained gasps and gripping hands.
It reminded her of their sophomore year: curious hands, wandering mouths, and clothed bodies pressed tightly together. Before they knew it one of them had their nails digging into the other's arm and her back arched up into the other's, their name getting caught in the back of her throat as blinding, hot heat washed throughout her body and her love soaked right through the panties in her shorts — that was Dinah, by the way. Camila had completely, accidentally, whole-heartedly made her come right on her living room couch in their tenth year. Camila couldn't help the tiny smile on her lips at the memory. Dinah's face scorched red along with fumbling words as she apologized over and over (for what? the hottest memory of Camila's teenage life? she still dreams about it) while Camila trembled above her from a mix of nervousness, fear, and arousal.
