Coming Home

The car door slams. Brandi steps out. Their eyes hit each other like magnets. She drops the bag. Elexis doesn’t wait. They crash together in the driveway, lips open, bodies pressed hard under the fading light. Later, the house is dark. Clothes hit the floor. Elexis climbs on top, grabs Brandi’s wrists, pins her. Brandi lets her. Elexis’s mouth moves down, slow at first, then greedy. Tongue drags over skin that’s still tight from months in uniform. She tastes sweat and salt and something that makes her moan against it. Brandi’s hips lift on their own. Elexis sucks harder. Brandi’s fingers dig into the sheets. When Elexis slides two fingers inside her, Brandi curses, low and broken. The pace picks up. Their rhythm turns messy, fast. Elexis works her tongue and hand together until Brandi shakes, until the noise she makes is almost a growl. Sweat slides down her chest. She comes hard, thighs clamped tight, voice hoarse. After, she pulls Elexis up, rolls her over, spreads her legs. Brandi doesn’t tease. She buries her face between them, fucks her with her mouth and fingers until Elexis sobs her name. She doesn’t stop until the other woman trembles, comes, and comes again. They stay locked, naked, breathing into each other’s necks. Brandi feels the ache in her chest finally loosen. Every mile, every fight, every night she froze in strange places—she did it all for this. This woman. This heat. This nothing between them. Home, at last.