Chapter 26: Quiet Mouths, Loud Bodies

  It happened slowly, the way love did.

  Somewhere between Mira slipping her socks into Lena’s drawer and the two of them cooking dinner without saying who would chop and who would stir, their life began folding into something tender, quiet, and inevitable.

  Lena started calling Mira “sweet girl” more often, especially when Mira was distracted. Mira stopped pretending she’d go home on weekends. On zy Sundays, she sprawled across Lena’s p with her book, blinking drowsily while Lena toyed with the hem of her shirt and murmured, “Keep reading.”

  It wasn’t just the sex, though that hadn’t slowed. If anything, it had gotten worse—softer, hungrier. Lena liked to take her time now, to tease Mira into incoherence, and Mira loved giving in more than she’d ever admitted aloud. What they had wasn’t a secret anymore, not really. It was just… theirs.

  But then finals season hit.

  And everything stopped.

  It had been twelve days. Twelve days of final papers, presentations, inbox pings, and carefully worded good luck texts. Twelve days since Mira had st curled into Lena’s p, since Lena had brushed her thumb down the slope of Mira’s throat and whispered anything close to “good girl.”

  Not that Mira counted.

  Not that she spent those nights trying to fall asleep in her own bed, legs tangled in bnkets that didn’t smell like Lena’s sheets. Not that her fingers shook the first time she caught Lena's gaze across the library during study hours—just a flicker of eye contact from across the room, cool and unreadable, and it had been enough to make Mira’s breath catch behind her teeth.

  They still texted. They still kissed, brief and needy in stairwells or between csses. But everything else—touch, heat, control—had to wait.

  Mira didn’t whine. She tried not to.

  But Lena could see it in the way she bit her lip when they passed each other. The way she squirmed when their fingers brushed and her breath caught. How she kept gncing at Lena’s mouth like she couldn’t stand not kissing her.

  And Lena? Lena was barely holding it together.

  She hadn’t touched Mira in nearly two weeks. Not properly. Not in the way Mira melted for, the way Lena craved. Her control was unraveling thread by thread, held together by finals, barely.

  Now it was nearly midnight. Finals were over. The campus was quiet.

  And Mira was tucked into the farthest back aisle of the library—quiet, hidden, heart thudding against her ribs like it wanted out. She wasn't sure what made her text Lena an hour ago. Or what made Lena text back only a single word: come.

  But she was here.

  The overhead lights had gone dim, security lighting humming faintly in the distance. Most students were gone. Her bag y abandoned on the floor behind her. And Lena was stepping toward her now, slow and precise, the low heels of her boots a soft whisper against the rug.

  Mira didn’t breathe. She didn’t move.

  Until Lena was in front of her—close enough that her perfume cut through the dusty scent of old books. Close enough that Mira could see the tightness in her jaw, the sharp flicker in her eyes.

  “You came,” Lena murmured, voice like velvet ced with something darker.

  Mira nodded, lips parted. Her breath came too quick, too shallow.

  “I didn’t think I’d st another night,” she whispered.

  That’s when Lena kissed her.

  With no warning, she just grabbed her.

  One hand fisting in Mira’s sweater, the other curling behind her neck, pulling her in hard and fast. Mira gasped into it, barely able to keep up. Her back hit the shelves behind her with a soft thud, books trembling on the other side. And Lena didn’t stop.

  Her mouth cimed Mira’s with a kind of desperate hunger—like she hadn’t eaten in days and this was the only thing that mattered. Her hand slid down, gripping Mira’s hip, yanking her closer until Mira could feel her pulse between her legs, fluttering helplessly.

  “Please,” Mira choked. “Lena, please—”

  Lena’s fingers curled under Mira’s chin, tilting her face up.

  “You want to be touched, baby?”

  Mira nodded wildly. “Yes, yes—god, I’ve wanted—”

  “Then don’t talk,” Lena said, low and firm, “unless I ask you to.”

  Mira’s knees went weak.

  She nodded again, lips trembling.

  Lena’s hands moved quickly—confident, decisive. She turned Mira around, pressing her chest against the bookshelves. The spines dug lightly into her ribs through the fabric of her sweater. Lena’s hands didn’t leave her. They dragged up Mira’s thighs, beneath her skirt, fingertips hot and greedy.

  Mira let out a needy, breathless moan the moment her hips met the shelves—already shifting, already thrusting back into the heat of Lena’s body.

  “I couldn’t wait,” she whispered, voice breaking, grinding softly against Lena's thigh. “I—I need it so bad…”

  Lena made a low, hungry sound into her neck, hand cmping tight on Mira’s hip to still her.

  “You’re already begging and I haven’t even touched you yet.”

  She leaned in, her breath hot and slow against Mira’s ear.

  “Spread your legs for me.”

  Mira whimpered.

  She shifted, parted her legs just enough—and Lena groaned softly behind her, the sound thick with want.

  “You’re already shaking,” Lena murmured. “Is this what happens when I leave you alone too long?”

  Mira let out a helpless moan, high and breathy. “Yes—yes, it’s—I missed you, I couldn’t—”

  “Shhh,” Lena breathed, kissing the back of Mira’s neck. “I know, sweetheart. I know.”

  Then her hand slid between Mira’s thighs.

  Mira gasped—loud, sharp, desperate.

  Lena’s fingers weren’t gentle—they were slow, but not soft. She pushed aside Mira’s underwear, found her soaked, slick, already aching.

  “Fuck,” Lena whispered, more to herself than to Mira. “You’re dripping for me.”

  The sound was obscene—slick and wet as Lena dragged her fingers through Mira’s folds, slow and deliberate.

  Mira arched her back, pressing herself shamelessly against Lena’s hand.

  And Lena gave her what she needed.

  Two fingers—deep and slow—curled perfectly inside her.

  Mira cried out, hands spyed against the shelf, hips twitching with every stroke. The wet, rhythmic thrust of Lena’s fingers filled the narrow space between them, each sound louder than it should’ve been in the library’s silence.

  “Stay still,” Lena murmured. “You wanted this. Now take it.”

  Mira whimpered again, her forehead pressing against the cool wood, biting her lip to keep from sobbing out loud.

  But it didn’t matter—her body was making all the noise for her. Her slick liquid, Lena’s fingers, the thick wet sp each time Lena fucked deeper—it all echoed like a filthy secret barely contained.

  Lena moved with maddening control. Every thrust, every twist of her wrist was deliberate.

  “Does that feel good?” Lena asked, voice ragged.

  Mira moaned—loud this time. “Yes. Yes—please, more, I need—”

  “You need what?”

  “I—I want to come.”

  “You want to?” Lena breathed. “After making me wait? After all those days pretending you didn’t need me?”

  Mira shook her head frantically. “I did—I do, I always need you—”

  Lena groaned, and her other hand slid around Mira’s waist, pulling her back harder against her.

  “God, I love it when you beg.”

  She moved faster—fingers fucking into Mira in smooth, rhythmic thrusts, her thumb circling just right.

  The wet, filthy sounds of it were unmistakable now—so loud in the quiet aisle Mira could hardly think.

  Mira sobbed—literally sobbed—as her knees buckled.

  “I’m—Lena, I’m gonna—”

  “No,” Lena snapped. “Not yet.”

  She pulled her hand back.

  Mira gasped in horror, back arching, body trembling from the edge.

  The sudden absence of sound was its own kind of torture.

  “Please!” she cried. “No, no, no—please don’t stop—”

  Lena turned her again, roughly this time, and shoved her back against the shelf. Her hand was wet with Mira’s arousal, her eyes dark, her voice rough.

  “You’re mine,” she hissed. “Say it.”

  Mira blinked up at her, eyes gssy. “I’m yours.”

  “Again.”

  “I’m—yours, I’m only yours—”

  Then Lena kissed her—harder, filthier than before—and her hand was back between Mira’s legs, fast this time, precise, overwhelming.

  The slick sound of her fingers working Mira’s soaked cunt echoed like sin. Mira’s whole body writhed, mouth falling open in a strangled, desperate moan.

  “Lena—oh, fuck, I—I can’t—”

  “Yes you can,” Lena growled. “You’re going to come right here, against the shelf, with your legs shaking and my name in your mouth.”

  And Mira did.

  She shattered with a sob, bucking against Lena’s hand, loud and wet and utterly gone.

  The sound of it—her moans, her liquid, the trembling sp of her thighs—filled the aisle like prayer.

  Lena held her through it, kept her upright, let her ride it out with her hand still moving, slow and possessive.

  When Mira finally sagged forward, Lena caught her.

  She kissed her softly.

  Whispering,, “Good girl.”

  Mira whimpered into her neck, still trembling, still clinging.

  Outside, the library stayed quiet. The shelves stood still. But between them, Mira pressed her face into Lena’s shoulder and let herself fall apart, piece by piece, in the arms of the girl who ruined her in the best way.

  And Lena? Lena just held her tighter. Fingers brushing her thigh. Mouth at her ear.

  In the stillness that followed, Mira’s breathing slowed, and she traced zy circles on Lena’s chest. “I’m never leaving,” she murmured.

  “You’re not allowed to,” Lena replied, pulling her closer to her chest. She pressed a final kiss to Mira’s nose. “Ever.”

  Mira sighed, eyes closing. “Good.”

  And under the hush of the lofty shelves, they clung to each other, their bodies and hearts finally at rest.