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She searches the crowd of people frantically, music pounding in her ears. She needed to find her, needed to at least speak to her once tonight. Clorinde’s entire point of being here, at an award show that she definitely did not belong at, would be moot if she didn’t get to speak to Navia. She had to convince Kaeya to take her as her plus one at the last minute, just so she could…
She spots her, finally. Through the throngs of people, she spots golden hair and a dark blue dress with gold accents to match, and the way pride radiates off of her is just another giveaway. She looks ethereal, she looks gorgeous–
She looks like a divine being, gracing her line of sight with her presence.
She pushes through the remainder of the crowd, not going to let this moment be taken for granted. She has her chance, and she refuses to let it slip past her like so many other of her chances have in the past.
Navia spots her, if the way her eyes flash is any indication- and as she advances towards her, she watches the way Navia brushes off whoever she was talking to–
She meets Clorinde halfway.
“Congratulations,” Clorinde says immediately, smiling slightly. “You won big tonight.”
“And it seems I keep winning, if I’m not hallucinating your presence.” Navia replies, crossing her arms, a slow smirk breaking out on her face. Clorinde’s mouth goes dry, the tips of her ears burn. “But, thank you.”
“Your speech was very…” She waves her hands around aimlessly, forgetting how to speak entirely when Navia, in all her beauty, directs her undivided attention towards her. How does one compose a sentence? Clorinde is not sure, at least, not when Navia’s eyes are on her. “...inspirational.”
Navia’s smirk turns to a soft, amused smile. An eyebrow raises, her head tilts to the side, “Inspirational?” She echoes, tone lilting upwards in a way that, strangely enough, makes Clorinde want to fall to her knees. Her voice, it’s so soft, it’s so– “I don’t quite know if that’s the word for my acceptance speech, but I’ll take it.”
Clorinde deflates, shoulders hunching inwards in a way that, well, makes her look like a loser. “It was a good speech, is what I meant,” She tries to recover, but of course, it fails. She just looks even more pathetic. “But you deserve the award, I hope you know that. The album was phenomenal.”
“So, you’ve listened to it?” She asks, eyes narrowing and biting the corner of her lip just enough to make Clorinde malfunction. Only a bit. Navia reaches forward to entwine their arms together- and, oh god, this must be Clorinde’s karma for last month, for teasing Navia. She lets Navia lead her around the room, so close to each other that Clorinde could feel the heat emanating off of her body. She feels insane.
“Well, I listened to… every album in the category…” Clorinde mutters, gulping and hoping Navia doesn’t catch the lie. But Navia knows her- and Clorinde hasn’t changed drastically in 9 years. She hasn’t, not really. “Not just yours.”
“Yeah?” Navia chuckles, squeezing Clorinde’s arm closer to her side. As a waiter passes them, Clorinde snatches two champagne flutes off of the platter, using her knuckles to hold them. She offers one to Navia, who stares at her with an odd look in her eyes. She takes the glass, taking a leisurely sip from it. “And you liked mine the best?”
“They were all good,” Clorinde clarifies, following suit- and her face scrunches up in disgust as soon as the bitter tang of the champagne hits. She never liked champagne, really- she supposes she only grabbed one for herself subconsciously. “But yes, to answer your question, I did like yours the best.”
“Charmer,” Navia laughs, airy as always. It pulls on something in Clorinde, it makes her want to cry. Only a bit. It’s been so long since she has last heard Navia laugh, so long since they spoke. She… she can’t help the gentle smile that finds its way onto her face. “Here, give me that.”
Clorinde holds her champagne flute away from Navia, “What? No, you have one already.”
“Don’t play dumb,” Navia responds, quirking an eyebrow. “You don’t like champagne, why torture yourself? Just let me have it.”
“But–”
Navia pulls her arm out of Clorinde’s grasp, presses a finger to her lips and leans down to be directly in her face. Like this, Clorinde could hear her better over the music- but she could also make out every freckle on her face, could see each individual color that deviated in Navia’s eyes. “Hush,” She whispers, smirking when she notices the way Clorinde’s eyes widen. “I won the awards tonight, right? I can’t celebrate in the way I’d like, so let me celebrate this way.”
Clorinde’s brows furrow as Navia pulls her finger away, and Clorinde only now realized just how dangerously close they actually were. Her breath ghosts against Navia’s face, “And that’s by guzzling down two flutes of champagne?”
“Sure,” Navia responds with a careless shrug. “Like I said, it’s the ideal way I’d celebrate, but hey- this is fine, too.”
“What’s your ideal way of celebrating, then?” Clorinde questions, and for some reason, her heart drops into her gut. It’s almost as if it’s a sign. A sign for what? Well, Clorinde can’t be too sure. She doesn’t want to dwell on the thought, though..
Navia’s smirk only widens, free hand falling from her face to trace a finger down the column of Clorinde’s neck, then dance along her exposed collarbone. “Do you want the truth?” She asks, breath puffing against Clorinde’s lips. “Or would you prefer I lie?”
“You know I’ll always prefer honesty.” She answers, eyes trained on Navia’s lips and the way they move. This was not good, she thinks absentmindedly. They were in public- a very public afterparty of the biggest music award show of the year. Journalists were everywhere, cameras were most definitely out, taking photos and videos of everything…
If they were caught on photo (or video) like this– well, more than a few rumors would spread about them. None of which that Clorinde necessarily wants to entertain, in fear of losing Navia again.
“Then, forgive me if this is too forward,” Navia’s face only gets closer to hers, lips inches apart- and Clorinde can’t help the way she feels anxious. There are people all around them, most of them willing to sell them both out. “But I’d rather celebrate my wins by having you under me.”
And she’s sure Navia hears the way her breath hitches. “Navia, you–” She stammers over her words, pulling back ever so slightly. She sees the exact moment Navia misconstrues her words- and panickedly, she places her hand over Navia’s, keeping her hand firm against her collarbone. “–We… shouldn’t do this here.”
“Then where should we?”
Clorinde gulps, looks around the dimly lit afterparty. “Is… is there a bathroom?”
Navia grabs Clorinde’s glass out of her hand, discards them easily onto the nearest table. “Of course there is,” She responds, grasping her hand and intertwining their fingers. “Is that your suggestion?”
“I don’t see anywhere else we could..” She trails off nervously, glancing down at their hands, then around the party. No one is looking at them, from what she can see- but that doesn’t necessarily mean that no one isn’t accidentally catching this on camera. God, this would be so embarrassing if..
Navia laughs, and Clorinde lets her lead her towards the bathroom.
—
As soon as the door closes behind them, Navia is pushing her up against it. She’s completely boxed in, like this- Navia’s hands on either side of her head, chests pushed up against each other as Navia leans down. She ghosts her lips over Clorinde’s, just barely touching. Her breath puffs against her lips, and Clorinde wants nothing more than for Navia to just close the gap-
But with the way Navia smirks, eyes half lidded, it’s clear to Clorinde that Navia wants her to make that final move. Clorinde groans, but plays into Navia’s hand either way- she leans in, closing the gap and wrapping her arms around Navia’s neck, pulling her in closer to her body. The kiss is heated from the get, neither of them wasting any time with each other. They- or, well, more specifically Navia -know exactly what they want, and… well, Clorinde supposes they have all the time in the world.
(If someone told Clorinde a month ago that she’d be pushed up against the wall by Navia at the Grammys afterparty, Clorinde would’ve asked for whatever crack they were smoking.)
Navia’s hands wander, starting at Clorinde’s jaw and caressing the skin there, before moving down her neck. They rest on her collarbones for a moment, pushing her further against the door as the kiss only further deepens. Her hands travel to the loosely hanging tie, undoing the knot with deft fingers and letting it drop to the floor easily. Clorinde’s fingers dig into Navia’s shoulders- bare, seeing as her dress was off the shoulder and open in the back for the most part. It was delicious, really.
Navia’s fingers work at undoing the buttons of Clorinde’s shirt, untucking it so that it hangs limply and exposing her chest and abs to the cold, bathroom air. Navia’s lips detach from Clorinde’s- and Clorinde pretends like she doesn’t whine at the loss of contact, but she knows she does. Navia trails kisses down from her mouth, leaving lipstick marks on her jaw and on her neck. She sucks lightly on her pulse point- and Clorinde’s fingers dig harder into Navia’s shoulders, hard enough to elicit a moan from the woman. Clorinde certainly did not think that, of all things, that would get a reaction, but… what works, works, she supposes. She’d do anything to hear that sound again–
And then Navia is sucking harder on her neck, and her knees buckle beneath her- and if it weren’t for Navia and her quick reflexes, she would’ve surely collapsed onto the floor with an embarrassing whine. Navia’s hands rest firmly on her waist, and she pulls away slightly from her spot on her neck.
“Jump,” She says, breath hitting against the spot on her neck where she was just sucking on. Clorinde shivers. “Don’t worry, I won’t drop you.”
Clorinde hesitates for a moment- but she trusts Navia, and so she trusts that Navia will take care of her. So, she jumps, only to be caught by Navia’s hands on her ass, holding her up. Quickly, Clorinde wraps her legs around Navia’s waist, squeezing herself ever closer to the woman. Like this, she was finally taller than her- but still, she was no match for Navia’s and her intelligence. Not only is she silver tongued, but it seemed as though her mouth was as quick as her fingers on a piano– she quickly latched her mouth onto Clorinde’s collarbones, alternating between sucking and kissing the skin there. She bit occasionally, eliciting strangled noises out of the back of Clorinde’s throat.
Her hands find purchase in Navia’s hair, bunching up a good portion of it and tugging it lightly.
“Navia,” She pleads, breathless. “Stop teasing. ”
“Can’t I play with my food?” She mutters against her collarbone, eyes fluttering open and staring at the words tattooed onto her left clavicle. She smirks, placing an open-mouthed kiss to the tattoo, staring up at Clorinde through her lashes. “I guess you do listen to my albums after all, hm?”
“O-Of course I do,” Clorinde responds, gulping as she feels Navia set her down on the sink. Navia’s hands travel up, under where her shirt still rests on her shoulders, and slowly slides it down, leaving her almost entirely nude from the waist up. Clorinde shivers, core aching in the most terrible of ways. “I-I’ve listened… to every album you ever.. released.”
Navia’s hands slip down again, dancing around the band of her bra, fingers sliding under it teasingly. Clorinde’s breath hitches, feeling the way Navia’s nail scratches gently at the skin underneath the band. “And your favorite album of mine?” Navia asks, voice raspy against her neck. She bites the juncture of her neck and shoulder, eliciting a choked gasp from Clorinde- and it’s enough for Clorinde to forget Navia’s question, enough for her to only focus on the way Navia’s mouth is on her, one hand massaging her boob and the other drawing gentle shapes on her abs.
Clorinde’s breath quickens, and she prays to whatever god may exist that Navia will just move her hand downwards.
But instead, Navia’s hand stays where it is on her stomach, the other stays where it is on her chest, and kisses up the column of her neck. She places a featherlight kiss to the edge of Clorinde’s lip and whispers,
“I asked you a question, dear.”
Clorinde grips the back of her head tighter. “ R-Red ,” She says, breathless and desperate. “It’s… it’s Red .”
Navia snorts, kissing her and practically shoving her tongue down her throat. Clorinde moans, bucking her hips up fruitlessly. There was no point, really- Navia’s hand wasn’t moving from where it was on her stomach, and she was too far away to feel any real friction from the action. The most she got was the friction of her sensitive clit against her underwear, surely soaked completely through by now.
She pulls away again, mutters against her lips, “Fucking loser.”
Clorinde did not realize she found that attractive. But then, she moans, and she feels terribly embarrassed by that fact– and she supposes that’s just a thing now. Something that she will have to accept.
(At a later date, of course.)
Navia’s hand underneath her bra moves slightly, fingers latching onto her nipple and rolling the already hard nub between them. Clorinde whimpers, one arm wrapping around Navia’s neck and pulling her into her own, the other gripping the hair at the crown of her head tightly. Navia continues to mouth around her neck and chest, leaving bite marks, hickeys, lipstick marks- whatever she possibly could.
The hand on her stomach still didn’t move down. Her skin burns where Navia’s hand lays dormant, her pussy aches terribly, clenching desperately around nothing. “N-Navia, please,” She cries, tugging on Navia’s hair gently. “Touch me, already.”
“You’re so pathetic,” Navia mutters against her skin, and yet the hand on her stomach moves down, undoing her belt and pulling down her zipper. “I bet you’d beg if I asked you to.”
“You…” Clorinde hangs her head, burying her head into the side of Navia’s hair, breathing in the scent of her hair. It smells clean, like sandalwood and roses- just like she used to, when they were kids. Navia’s fingers hook into the sides of her pants, pulling on them slightly. Clorinde lifts her hips slightly, letting Navia pull her pants down slightly- and now, with the air of the bathroom against her drenched panties, she shivered. “...You’re so mean to me.”
“You deserve it,” Navia mutters, hand cupping her heat. She groans into her neck, fingers rolling her nipple harder. “You’re so wet, Clorinde. God.”
“Do something about it, then,” She bites back, sick of being toyed with. Though, a small, quieter part of Clorinde enjoys it. Enjoys the cat and mouse, just a bit. “Stop teasing.”
“You’re lucky I’m in a good mood tonight,” Navia says, finger dragging up Clorinde’s slit through her soaked underwear and dipping underneath the waistband of her paints. Clorinde jolts, arching into Navia’s touch. “Or I wouldn’t let you speak to me like this.”
Clorinde doesn’t respond, completely focused on the way Navia’s hand felt on her chest, the way her hand felt carding through the hair on her pussy.
She cries out in pleasure when Navia finally drags two fingers up her slit, collecting the slick there and dragging it back up. Lightly, she circles her clit- a choked moan ripping out of Clorinde’s throat, squeezing Navia closer into her. Her lips were right by Navia’s ear, she thinks- but she can’t find it in herself to care, really, not when Navia’s fingers are dipping lower again, ghosting just over–
And then, without warning, two fingers are slipping into her easily. Clorinde moans, hand gripping and pulling on Navia’s hair tighter, eliciting a guttural groan from the woman leaving a plethora of hickeys on her chest. She sinks into Clorinde up to her third knuckle, hilting there for a moment and breathing heavily into Clorinde’s neck.
“You’re so–” Navia gulps, hot breath hitting her clammy skin. “– tight.”
“Less talking,” Clorinde breathes into her ear. “Less talking, more moving-”
“You’re not the one in charge here,” Navia responds- though, the way she listens to Clorinde, moving her fingers out slowly only to move back in, says otherwise. “I do want I want to.”
“Okay, well,” Clorinde tugs on her hair- her new favorite activity, she thinks. “ I want you to fuck me already.”
Navia’s breath hitches, fingers stuttering for just a moment- but she nods against Clorinde’s neck, gulping slightly. “This is how I’m celebrating, after all,” She says, beginning to move her fingers in and out of Clorinde at a faster pace, accompanied by Clorinde’s breathless ah’s. “I might as well… take what I want, now.”
And so, she doesn’t talk after that- intent at working her mouth along her neck, her collarbone, the exposed tattoo that travels up Clorinde’s arm and winds itself up onto her right clavicle, intent on drawing hearty moans out of Clorinde from the way her fingers play with her nipples and pump in and out of her pussy. Clorinde feels like puddy in her hands, arching into her back and trying to move her hips to meet each thrust of her hand. She lavishes in the feeling of the whole thing, eyes shut tight as she breathes in the scent of Navia’s hair deeply- it’s calming, it reminds her of their teenage years–
It reminds her of young love, it reminds her of love that was lost. Tears prick at her eyes, and she isn’t sure if it’s from the way her climax builds rapidly in her gut, or from the direction her mind has brought her down- but she’s moaning loudly in Navia’s ear, and she’s pulling harshly on her hair–
And Navia’s movements become ruthless, left hand tugging on her nipple, right hand pumping in and out of her so fast that it makes squelching sounds- and then Navia angles her hand so that Clorinde can grind her clit into the palm of her hand. It’s over for Clorinde, after that, mindlessly chasing her release against Navia and her deft fingers.
“I’ve got you,” Navia whispers into the underneath of her jaw. “You can let go, ma chérie. You look so beautiful like this, so pretty-”
And Navia’s fingers curl inside of her, her fingers tug harshly on her nipples, she bites down on her neck- and Clorinde sees stars. She’s vaguely aware of the way she muffles her moan by burying her head completely in Navia’s hair, vaguely aware of the way she grinds helplessly against her hand to ride out her climax. She’s also vaguely aware of Navia whispering sweet nothings to her, assuring her that she looks beautiful, feels amazing-
She breathes heavily, relaxing against the sink mirror- and Navia pulls her hand out of Clorinde’s underwear, slides her hand out of Clorinde’s bra. She smiles at Clorinde, maintaining eye contact with her as she licks Clorinde’s slick off her fingers. Clorinde nearly passes out at that sight, alone. Navia moans around her fingers, eyes fluttering shut.
“You taste so good,” She mutters, wrapping her arms around Clorinde’s waist and resting her chin on her boobs. She stares up at her, smile on her face- and she reaches her other hand up to push Clorinde’s bangs out of her face. “You did so well. You were only a little pathetic.”
“Rude,” Clorinde responds, still breathless- but she still smiles down at Navia all the same. “You… were better at that than I expected.”
“That feels backhanded.” Navia laughs, raising an eyebrow- and her eyes glance back down towards that lyric tattoo on her collarbone. Clorinde is aware that there are a plethora of hickeys around that area, actually. She didn’t take Navia to be… possessive. Clorinde simply shrugs, fingers scratching at the nape of Navia’s neck.
“I don’t mean it to come off that way,” She says, letting her head rest against the mirror as she tries to calm her rapidly beating heart and shallow breathing. “I just… didn’t realize you were experienced.”
“I’m not,” Navia answers, placing an open-mouthed kiss on Clorinde’s chest. “I’ve just practiced on myself quite a bit.”
Clorinde gasps weakly, hit with a sudden wave of exhaustion. “How scandalous… Navia Caspar, ten time grammy winner, has–”
“Oh, shut up,” Navia swats at her arm lightly, then traces the winding ivy tattoo with her finger. “I think that was better than the three Grammys I won tonight.”
“I’m honored..” Clorinde laughs, shaking her head in disbelief. “...To be on the same level as a Grammy.”
“Oh, please,” Navia scoffs- and Clorinde is sure she rolled her eyes. “You mean more to me than a Grammy.”
And Clorinde asks, “More than three?”
“More than
twenty.”