The couch was warm beneath them, the faint hum of the city night sneaking through the cracked window. Camille’s arm was draped lazily over Elise’s shoulders, their legs tangled together like roots finding each other in the dark. Neither spoke for a long time. It wasn’t uncomfortable — just a shared stillness, breathing the same thick, slow air.
Camille listened to her own heartbeat and wondered if Elise could feel it through their skin. Was this softness dangerous? Or was it exactly what she’d been aching for?
Finally, Camille turned her head, nose brushing along Elise’s temple. "You okay, chérie?" she murmured, voice a low velvet drag.
Elise nodded, cheeks pink. "Yeah. Just... taking it all in, I guess."
Camille’s lips curled into a slow smile. She loved that — Elise's shyness wasn't weakness; it was realness. A rare thing. She pressed a kiss to Elise's temple, then her jawline, then lower, teasing the sensitive skin below her ear with a brush of her tongue.
"Come to bed with me, " Camille whispered.
Elise’s breath caught. She didn’t answer, just nodded again, her fingers clutching Camille's shirt like a lifeline. Camille rose first, offering her hand. Elise took it without hesitation.
The bedroom was dimly lit, the moon casting silver rivers across the sheets. Camille led her to the edge of the bed and kissed her — slowly at first, hands sliding up Elise’s sides, feeling the shivers under her fingertips. Elise kissed back, eager, needy, but her movements still uncertain.
Camille stripped her shirt off first, letting it fall somewhere near the door. Elise’s eyes devoured her — the tattoos, the toned lines, the electric, almost wild beauty of her. Camille caught Elise watching and grinned, predatory but tender.
"You can touch me, " she teased, guiding Elise’s hands to her waist.
Elise’s touch was hesitant at first, fingers tracing the lines of Camille's ribs, her hips. Camille caught Elise’s bottom lip between her teeth gently and tugged, pulling a gasp from her.
Clothes peeled away between them in urgent, clumsy movements — Camille more skilled, Elise blushing fiercely but not pulling back. When they were bare, Camille pushed Elise gently onto the bed, crawling over her, hair a wild halo, stormy blue eyes drinking her in.
"Look at you, " Camille murmured in French, her voice a rough purr. "Tellement belle..." So beautiful.
Elise whimpered, turning her face into the pillow for a second before Camille coaxed her back with a kiss.
Camille took her time — starting with feather-light kisses down Elise’s neck, her collarbone, her breasts. She traced Elise's skin with her tongue, savoring every inch. Elise writhed under her, soft gasps filling the air.
When Camille’s mouth finally found Elise’s thighs, Elise cried out, hips lifting desperately. Camille chuckled low against her skin.
"Patience, " she murmured, her accent thick and heady.
But Camille wasn’t patient. Not really. She was hungry. She wanted to consume her, yes — but she also wanted to protect this trembling, brave girl who had trusted her with everything. She hooked Elise’s legs over her shoulders and dove in — tongue firm and relentless, hands gripping Elise’s thighs to hold her steady as she devoured her.
Elise sobbed out a broken moan, hands scrabbling at the sheets. Camille licked deep, slow, and then faster, teasing her with fingers at the same time — sliding one in, then another, stretching her, filling her. Elise's body responded immediately, arching, grinding against her mouth.
Camille groaned into her, the vibrations sending Elise higher. She didn't hold back — she wanted to see Elise come undone for her, to know she could shatter her like this.
It didn’t take long — Elise’s whole body tensed, her thighs shaking around Camille’s head, a strangled cry ripping from her throat as she came hard, grinding helplessly against Camille’s mouth.
Camille slowed only when Elise went limp, panting, whimpering softly. She lifted her head, licking her lips slowly, wickedly — and then licking her fingers clean with a gleam in her eye, making sure Elise watched.
Elise did — wide-eyed, trembling, heart hammering.
"You're incredible, " Camille whispered, crawling back up her body to kiss her deeply, letting Elise taste herself on her lips.
Elise kissed her back fiercely, then suddenly flipped them — awkward, a little clumsy, but determined. I can do this. I want to make her feel what she gave me. I want to learn her body like a second language.
Camille laughed softly but let her, sprawling beneath her like a feast.
Elise tried — she really tried — to be aggressive, trailing kisses down Camille’s body, mimicking what Camille had done. Her movements were hesitant but eager. She sucked lightly at Camille’s nipples, drew her tongue down her stomach, and finally nestled between her legs.
Camille gasped when Elise’s tongue flicked tentatively at her clit, hips jerking.
"Merde..." Camille hissed, threading her fingers through Elise’s hair.
Elise worked harder, emboldened by Camille’s reactions. She wasn’t perfect — too soft, too cautious — but the raw want was there, and Camille could have wept from it.
"Just like that, " Camille whispered, switching into French without thinking. "Putain, oui..."
Elise slid two fingers inside her, awkward at first, but Camille coached her with breathy little moans and soft thrusts of her hips. Elise caught the rhythm quickly, mouth and fingers working together until Camille’s body arched off the bed, her breath coming in ragged pants.
It wasn’t polished. It wasn’t dominant. But it was perfect because it was Elise.
When Camille came, it was hard and fast, a shudder rolling through her as she cried out Elise’s name. She collapsed against the mattress, breathless, stunned. Elise hesitated, then crawled up and kissed her — messy, desperate, full of heat.
They lay tangled together afterward, sweaty, sated, hearts hammering.
Elise’s head rested on Camille’s shoulder, one hand stroking idle patterns over her stomach.
Camille’s Inner Monologue: I’ve been with so many people. So many nights that meant nothing. But this? This means something. She’s scared. She's shy. But she's real. She's fucking real. I have to be careful. I can't break this. I won’t.
Elise’s Inner Monologue: I feel safe here. I feel wanted. I don't know if I can trust it yet... but I want to try. For her. For me.
Camille kissed the top of Elise’s head softly, a silent promise, and pulled the blanket up around them both.
Outside, the city kept humming — but inside the little bedroom, it was just them. Tangled hearts. Tangled bodies. Something fragile and beautiful beginning to bloom.
Sunlight slipped through the half-open blinds, striping across Camille’s bedroom in soft golden ribbons. Elise stirred under the covers, blinking against the haze as the warmth around her sharpened into reality. Camille’s arm was draped over her waist — protective, possessive.
It was their second morning waking up together. Yet somehow, it felt new. Not just another night. Not just another hookup.
Elise lay still, savoring the press of Camille’s body behind her, the steady rhythm of her breathing. She didn’t want to move. But eventually, she’d have to. Her dress from the night before was still folded over the back of a chair. She needed to go home, shower, change — pretend she hadn’t melted into someone else’s life for an entire day.
Camille’s lips brushed her shoulder.
“Mmm, ” she murmured, her voice thick with sleep. “You’re not sneaking out, are you?”
Elise smiled into the pillow. “I have work on Monday, remember? And no clean clothes.”
Camille stretched, then pulled her closer. “You’ve got time.” She slipped out of bed — bare, unbothered — and crossed the room in that slow, feline way of hers. She opened a drawer and tossed Elise a long black T-shirt. “Here. Wear this. It looks better on you anyway.”
Elise sat up, trying not to blush as she pulled it on. The fabric was soft and oversized, slipping off one shoulder.
Camille bit her lip. “Fuck. That’s dangerous.”
“You gave it to me, ” Elise laughed.
“Because I’m weak, ” Camille said, brushing a damp strand of hair behind Elise’s ear.
Their banter had softened. The tension between them had shifted — from uncertainty to something warmer. Familiar. Elise leaned into the touch.
“Come on, ” Camille whispered, offering her hand. “Shower. You’re not leaving yet.”
The bathroom filled with steam. Elise stood under the spray, eyes closed, while Camille slid in behind her, arms circling her waist.
“I still don’t know what I’m doing with you, ” Camille murmured against her ear. “But I don’t want it to stop.”
Elise turned, her wet hair clinging to her skin. “I thought this was supposed to be just a night.”
“Yeah, ” Camille said, trailing a fingertip down Elise’s collarbone. “Me too.”
The kiss that followed wasn’t urgent. It was slow. Exploratory. Water cascaded around them as slick skin pressed together. Camille lifted Elise easily, her strength effortless — but her touch was different now. Gentler. Measured. She wasn’t trying to take. She just wanted to feel.
Elise clung to her, fingers sinking into Camille’s wet hair, heart pounding too hard for something that wasn’t supposed to matter.
They dried off, wrapped in towels, sipping coffee barefoot in the kitchen. Elise sat at the table, legs curled under her, while Camille moved around in nothing but her towel and a crooked smirk.
“I can’t believe you’re functional before noon, ” Elise teased.
“I run entirely on lust and caffeine, ” Camille said, flipping a crepe. “And now that I’ve had both? I could run a marathon.”
Elise smiled into her mug, the one Camille had handed her without asking.
Camille glanced over, hesitated, then spoke. “Hey.”
Elise looked up.
“You don’t have to go home right away.” Camille’s voice softened. “If you wanted to stay. For the weekend.”
There it was — a shift. That rare flicker of vulnerability.
Elise’s breath caught. “Are you sure?”
Camille shrugged, suddenly a little shy. “I just... like having you here. It’s weird. But I don’t want it to stop.”
Warmth swelled in Elise’s chest. “Okay.”
Camille grinned and turned back to the stove. “Cool. You’re on syrup duty.”
Later, they curled together on the couch, dry clothes, tangled legs. The silence between them was comfortable. Sweet.
Camille’s fingers traced lazy circles on Elise’s thigh. Her thoughts drifted.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. It was supposed to be fun. No strings. But she’s under my skin now. Soft and messy and fucking beautiful.
She glanced down at Elise, who rested her head on Camille’s shoulder, completely relaxed.
I like her like this. I like that she trusts me. That she looks at me like I’m something good. No one’s looked at me like that in a long time.
Across the cushions, Elise’s thoughts mirrored her own.
I was supposed to walk away. Just a night. A story. But she keeps pulling me back in — the way she touches me, like she sees me. The way she softens, just for me. God, I don’t want this to end.
She looked up at Camille, heart full.
Camille looked down. Her expression unreadable at first — then she leaned in and kissed Elise’s forehead. Not playful. Not sexy. Just... real.
They said nothing.
But everything was said.