Bora Bora Bora

11: That I can promise

Lorna's POV

I push her softly against the door and start kissing her, sucking on her lower lip. This lust feels different from all those other times. All those times were so full of loneliness and desperation, of touching and kissing and sucking everything you could, and at the same time, knowing that you matter how much you touched and kissed and sucked, the other person would never be completely yours. But that's not true anymore. Now there's no rush, no desperation to fill any voids. All that invisible is sadness is gone.

We strip each other down slowly, then lay down facing each other in the bed. For a long time we don't do anything, we just look at each other, taking in the sight of our naked bodies in the candle light. I've seen her naked so many times, why does this feel so much like a first?

I lean in and kiss her, savoring every inch of her lips and tongue. There's no roughness, no hair pulling, no dirty talking.  I only break apart to say:
"You're so beautiful."

She shakes her head, and starts kissing down my neck. I let out a small moan as she sucks on my collarbone. She kisses all the way down my breasts and stomach, but I stop her when she reaches my waist.

"No," I say, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "It's my turn to give back."

I lay down carefully on top of her, kissing her neck the way she was kissing mine. My hands travel up to her breasts, cupping them gently. I hear her breathing becoming jagged and I know she wants more. I bring my mouth to her breast and start liking around her nipples. Nicky gasps. I smile at her before closing my lips around one of her nipples.

"That feels so good," she pants.
I suck on it until her moans become louder and I know she's ready for something else. I move my head directly between her legs. I kiss around her flaps, warming her up. I want to do this right. I've gone down on her a few times before, but this time I want to make her feel twice as good as she makes me feel.

She arches her back as her core heats up. She's so wet. I push her legs slightly apart and suck on the sweet juice dripping down her wetness.

"You taste delicious," I whisper. I'm feeling heat build up between my own legs, but I keep going. I lick her in long, slow motions. Sounds of pleasure escape her mouth, and it sounds as if she's gritting her teeth, trying to keep herself from screaming.

"For God's sake, Lorna..."

Now I notice she's never used my name during sex before. I realize she never did because she was trying to protect herself, and I feel like I need to make up for all the pain I ever made her feel. I plant kisses all over her inner thighs before running the tip of my tongue along her clit. Her panting becomes heavier, and I pick up the pace. She pushes her hips up as I lick and suck, testing what she likes the best. A combination of both does the trick. Her whole body tenses up and she finally lets out a scream. I look up at her and smile, more than satisfied with myself. I've made her cum in the best Nichols fashion.

I wipe my mouth and kiss her on the lips one last time before collapsing on top of her. This has always been my favourite part, ever since I started enjoying sex. Laying in each others arms, naked in the dim light, feeling the frantic beating of our hearts as she came down from her climax. In Nicky's arms , it felt like this moment could never last long enough.

"So, that's what sex with love feels like," Nicky says, "if you tell anybody I said this I will kill you...but I could get used to it."

"You should- start getting used to it."

She kisses the top of my head and runs her hand down my shoulder.

"We will be so happy together, baby," I say, and I really want her to believe it.

"You bet your scrawny little ass we will," she says,"We'll be the happiest bitches of Litchfield. And when we get out, we'll be the happiest bitches in all free America. We'll get a nice little apartment in Brooklyn or Hell's Kitchen, and I'll let you hang all the old movie posters you like. I'll buy an old record player and you will complain about how expensive it was but you will love it when the music's playing at the end of a long hard week and we're slow dancing around the living room.  We'll get boring 9 to 5 jobs that we'll get to tell each other about at the end of the day. And we'll go on trips to the seaside at least once a year, and when we do we'll ask Vause and Chapman to water our plants and feed the dogs, cause of course we will have dogs..."

"And kids?" I ask nervously, "Will we have kids?"

"Are you fucking kidding me? Our kids would be a tiny army of fucked up, crazy addicted stalkers," she chuckles.
"Nah, screw kids. Just you and me."

I swallow hard. I do want to have kids someday, but I don't want to have this discussion right now, because right now, she is truly all I need.

"Just you and me," I repeat, and intertwine my fingers with hers.

"You know what I love about you?" she asks.

I snuggle against her chest. "Mmm, what?"

"That everytime we fuck- and we do fuck a lot- you never say anything about my chest scar. It's not like you pretend it's not there, you acknowledge it, like, you look at it and kiss it and shit, but you never said anything. You know words are not enough to cover certain things- so it's better to just leave them alone."

I'm overwhelmed by that same feeling I got the day I met Nicky, the day she was crying in the bathroom and she pushed me against the sink. I don't know if this feeling has a name, compassion is only a poor synonym. I want to hold her and kiss her and make her feel things so powerful she forgets every feeling she ever had before, I want to love her into wanting to live, I want to love her until all the human experiences she went through seem little and unimportant compared to this love.

"I never knew it meant that much to you," I say, touching her face.

"It does. I loved that you never gave me any of the "scars are so poetic, your body is like a beautiful canvas" crap. That's bullshit. Drugs fuck you up, and open heart surgery hurts like a bitch. There's nothing romantic about it."

"Nicky, I..." I clear my throat, and try to hold back the tears, "I wish I could tell you that part of your life is over, and that you never have to think about it again-but that would be so stupid. You're an addict, and even though you're doing so great right now and I'm so proud of you, I understand your addiction will always be a part of your life. And my addiction, and my crazy psycho shit...that...that'll be around for a long time too. But none of that will ever make me love you less. If anything it makes me love you more. I'll love you forever, through whatever shit comes our way. That I can promise."

She holds me tighter, and the tears I'd been holding back slide down her naked chest.

"I'll love you too, kid. For the rest of our batshit crazy, addiction riden lives. I will love you."