Thank you so much Mar KB for the big Ko Fi you bought me and your heart warming message ( ╥ω╥ )❤❤❤
I was moved to tears.. Like I said in my previous post, it’s difficult to work lately with my daughter’s condition and your help and kind words are more than appreciated !!
I drew this Nate for you especially, I hope you will like it ^^ Thank you again !!
Pairing: Nat Sewell x f!Detective Rating:T Word Count:~670 Notes:idk where this came from, please accept my ten minute writing of feelings for a pretty lady.
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“I’ve brought you something.”
She announces it as if she would need a reason to show up at Lena’s door. As if Lena would—could—turn her away. The bottom of the brown paper bag is faintly warm under her hands as she hustles toward the kitchen and sets it on the dining room table.
She turns to catch Nat stripping off her slim jacket, shaking it free of the clinging summer rain. (It is surprisingly cool, this rain, this night, the fact that Lena has restrained herself from asking for the kiss she wants.) She just watches the long elegant lines of Nat’s body as she hangs her jacket carefully on the coat rack by the door.
“Let me,” she says, when she catches Lena unwrapping her own present.
“Coffee?” Lena asks, stepping toward the counter. “Or tea?”
Nat gives her a smile. Gently amused. “Tea. Please.”
She’d used to just shove a mug in the microwave, set to a long enough time that she supposed the water would boil. Nat and Ava both had been horrified (one more obviously so than the other), and she’d gone out and bought an electric kettle the very next day.
By the time she’s filled it and flipped the switch, she turns back to see Nat’s set a place for one. A linen napkin, of all things, next to a silver spoon, a carton of fancy vanilla ice cream and a ramekin with a brown crust at its top.
She slides into the seat in front of the dessert and gives Nat a look. “What’s the occasion?”
“Do I need one?” She reaches out to stroke one of the curls that have come loose from Lena’s scrunchie. Lena shakes her head and as she picks up the spoon, she tangles her feet with Nat’s. The hem of her slacks is slightly wet, but Lena doesn’t mind.
Lena cracks into the crumble top and it seems like the smell explodes into the room. Strawberry and vanilla and something else. The fruit is cooked down to a deep, ruby red. Very nearly jammy. Nat smiles, that same soft smile as Lena takes a bite.
She cannot help her moan. Balsamic. The somethingelse.
“Do you want to try?” she asks. She turns the spoon so Nat can take it from her. Nat hums. She dips the spoon in the ice cream. It leaves a streak of red that has to share the space with black vanilla bean specks. Back into the crumble.
Her lips are still curled in that tender tilt when she lifts the spoon to Lena’s mouth instead of her own. Lena just keeps from making another, embarrassing sound as her mouth parts and Nat first presses the spoon to her bottom lip (a drop of ice cream was about to fall), and then against her tongue.
“There,” Nat says, only just audible over the rain pounding the window.
Sitting at the table, the difference in height doesn’t matter as much. Sitting at the table, she can lean over and put her palm to Nat’s face, fingertips grazing the skin just behind her ear. Sitting at the table she can lean in until their mouths nearly touch. (she cannot say if she says pleasealoud or if everything about her body telegraphs it.)
What a reward it is. This is her real gift. More so than the kiss, it’s the way Nat leans into it, wanting. The way she bites with loving carefulness on Lena’s lower lip, and now they both taste fruit-sweet.
Like always, she arches, hungry-mouthed, killing a whine that begs for more. When Nat threads her fingers through the curls at the nape of Lena’s neck and holds on tight, she goes pleasantly fuzzy-brained. This, this was what she was made for, kissing this woman, sheltered from a summer storm, with sugar on her tongue.
Nat pulls away with shorter and shorter kisses, though all they do is promise she’ll return. Lena’s cheeks heat as Nat strokes her thumb across her lip.
“There,” she murmurs again, her voice silky. “Delicious.”
