I'm reluctant to add the smut tag to the story for multiple reasons, chief among them that those scenes will be extremely rare in the course of the story and only appear while plot relevant, but if enough of you petition for me to add it in the comments, I'll do it anyway.

Happy reading,

With love, Sh'.

 

Chapter 27 : The longest day of my life (To learn to say goodbye)

 

The Thompsons' house guestroom, the Thompsons' house, Forest Hills, Queens, New York, 25th of January, 23:23

 

I've long returned to the quiet of my new room, after grudgingly acknowledging my shameful vanity-filled tendencies aloud and getting tentatively comforted by Iris about it.

 

My poor symbiotic half had tried her best to wake me until I slept, hugging and soothing me, but she was exhausted and promptly crashed down herself, which coincidentally confirmed my suspicions about being at risk of finding myself butt naked if she ever lost consciousness, since she immediately melted and oozed back into me as soon as her mind got lulled into what passes as sleep for her.

 

The fact made me smile with warm fuzzy feelings, because I found it cute, like everything she ever does.

 

Now, I am fighting an uphill battle to sleep by my lonesome.

 

It isn't going very well.

 

Between the frantic action of the day proper, that odd feeling of strangeness of a new room and the constant susurrus of the minds surrounding me, including my own household, I cannot find the capacity to just shut my eyes for the life of me .

 

So, with Iris properly asleep for the first time since the beginning of the week, I’m ending up being properly alone and awake with myself and I.

 

And my thoughts are spiraling endlessly about today’s events.

 

What am I retaining about it ?

 

I could pretend that I am horrified by the lengths I went to to protect a lone super, or even the fact that I am apparently ready to do a Wanda to grant myself a chance to be, at least in appearances, a normal teenage girl for once in two lives, but I’d be lying.

 

The sole thing running circles around my mind is the fact that I’m fucking horny since this morning, the whole day spent enduring arousing stimulation due to my state of clothing and I’m still debating if it’s wrong or not to have some ‘me time’ since Iris is properly ‘absent’ for once.

 

So, here I am, trying my hardest to forget about the endless inane chatter surrounding me telepathically while also attempting to pretend to myself that I’m not the gorgeousest being I’ve ever witnessed and that ‘I definitely and most assuredly do not want to have some “experiments” with my body’.

 

I’ve lost that uphill battle roughly at the same time I’ve admitted my defeat on my quest for a restful sleep a few minutes ago.

 

Under the freshly cleaned bed sheets, still ripe with that clean and sunny smell those have when they’ve been just washed, my hands get more adventurous as my eyes go half-lidded.

 

After all, if I get off with a proper orgasm, I should be able to fall asleep afterward.

 

Right ?

 

Softly chuckling under my breath about my sorry excuse of self-restraint, the last dredges of hesitation I had vanish as my fingers slowly trails the sides of my ribcage.

 

I’m so soft, so silky, and that simple gesture just kicked off the furnace-like engine I have kept neglected, despite its regular sputtering attempts to remind me of its existence all day long, in my lower belly.

 

The heat rises slowly, gently, yet unrelenting, as my digits dance upon every inch of my torso, allowing me to discover how my golden majestic self reacts to so many little touches.

 

Shuddering delight is apparently my new standard. Even the lone time when the palm of my hand sensually trailed the length of my neck had me clenching my thighs together in anticipation.

 

Then, for the first time of the day, since I didn’t have to put on a bra this morning and refrained myself earlier in the bathroom, I palm my new chest with both of my hands.

 

My fingers softly gliding around and on them, I marvel at the perfect balance between firmness and suppleness my mounds now are.

 

Biting my underlip, two of my fingers pinch one of my nipples as I slowly massage my other breast.

 

My back arches a little under the jolt of slightly painful pleasure because those are apparently way more sensitive than I was used to and I may have been a tad more forceful than I should have.

 

I slowly exhale as I recall a specific memory.

 

Marie’s eyes are half-lidded and her expression teasing as her head rises, distancing her offending teeth from my tiny little rightmost bud that she just molested without any remorse. I shudder in anticipation as I recall that, tonight, she’s the one in charge for once, and I watch her ever slowly gliding downward, trailing kisses and little love bites along my stomach, her right hand inching ever closer to my privates, like a sinuous and slithering caress along my thigh.

 

The side of my underlip that I'm biting in excitement changes as my eyes close, and my offending right hand slowly goes down, down, down, gliding across my abs, teasing my navel and finally reaches my core.

 

Yet, I do not rush, taking a bit more time than necessary, slowly easing the ache of my previously pinched nipple.

 

I absentmindedly note that I’ll have to tell my partner(s) to be extra-gentle with those because they are just that sensitive while I feel the heat of my core reaching an unprecedented height due to my growing arousal.

 

Then, my right hand finally cups my brand new vagina for the first time, after an excruciating time spent with my fingers slowly gliding along my labia, relishing in their softness and warmth.

 

My other hand leaves my now properly massaged better breast and snakes under my head, amid my mane of white and curly gorgeousness as my eyes shut even harder, to better enjoy the myriad of brand new sensations I’m subjected to.

 

I stay like that for a beat, eyes closed and my hand unmoving, feeling the heat ever rising and my core slowly pulsing, taking the measure of the maddening and intoxicating pleasure I’m subjected to by simple skin contact.

 

Under my palm, a very tiny little something is perking up.

 

The first encounter between the skin of my hand and my own clitoris, both of them still, send a shudder of pleasure along my spine.

 

I almost let go of a whiny moan because this is nearly too much and I’ve barely started, and I bite my underlip anew.

 

I raise my head as a little grin tug the corner of my lips. Along my shoulders, I can feel the little spasmodic remnant of Marie’s climax because her legs cannot stop from quivering. Her eyes are shut as she clenches the bed sheets with a death grip, her mouth distorted by a sloppy and sexy smile. I lick my lips as my hands slowly cup her butt anew to better, gently and softly, kiss her privates, my own little ritual to let her ride her afterglow.

 

The distant memory emboldens me and one of my fingers finally, slowly, breaches the door of my personal little heaven, going between my labia.

 

As it trails my inner folds, I belatedly realize that I am dripping wet, worse than a faucet.

 

Another shudder of delight is sent along my spine as my finger travels ever upward in the direction of its goal.

 

When my hand finally leaves its cupping position and my finger reaches my brand new little pearl for the first time, an electrical jolt of pleasure that makes my heart do a little-hiccup spread across my body.

 

This time, I cannot stop myself from letting a soft throaty moan escape me, and my left hand clenches my hair a little harder.

 

A second finger joins the first as my inside starts to lose cohesiveness and trick my own brain into making me think that they are gradually replaced by a soft, hot putty, releasing its warmth ever faster, ever stronger across all of me.

 

I gently flick my pearl for the first time ever and my whole body arches a tad, the sensation so raw and intoxicating.

 

I press myself even closer to Marie’s back, my breasts squeezed tight against her and my legs snaked in hers. My left hand is holding her by the throat in a totally measured and controlled grip, and I can feel her breathing getting more erratic through my digits. Her own hands have finally succeeded in their quest to entangle themselves in my hair as I trail kisses and love bites on her shoulder and neck, my right hand slowly working on her pearl, bringing my lover ever closer to her climax.

 

Marie arches her back a little, her grip on my hair tightening, and I can feel her pulse quickening under the palm of my hand.

 

I bite her a little more forcefully and she shudders in my grasp, my fingers momentarily sliding along her inner folds to come back to her little bud even wetter.

 

She moans, and finally gathers enough thoughts to mutter “Please Rach’... Faster…” under her breath.

 

Gently turning her head toward my own with my left thumb, I lock my eyes into her own fluttering ones, and kisses her deeply as my ministrations reach the desired rhythm.

 

Her quivers intensify as her tongue tries to match my own in a struggle for dominance, one that she starts to lose a little bit more with each of my rubbing and circling motions, firm yet gentle, the perfect balance needed to bring her beyond the edge.

 

She finally loudly moans while we are still kissing as she reaches her peak, her legs disentangling from mine to clench together, squeezing my hand between her thighs.

 

I moan plaintively as I reach my own, toe curling, climax, having lost any semblance of proper breathing along the way, and, like she always did, I clench my legs together, squeezing my hand between my thighs as endless jolts of delightful electricity and heat roams my body like it was their playground.

 

It stays forever, yet it is too short, and when my back finally drops back from its arching position and my erratic heartbeat starts to slow down, I’m left panting in the bed, sticky with sweat in some place.

 

I had never felt something so powerful and intoxicating in my whole life.

 

Mechanically, still smiling for my exhausting yet very satisfying ordeal, I turn myself toward my right, Marie’s side of the bed.

 

That’s when I realize it.

 

She’s not here.

 

“You’re not here.” I babble slowly, tears pearling at the corner of my eyes.

 

I start sobbing as I gather myself in a little ball of shame, distress, sadness and orgasmic afterglow.

 

***

The Thompsons' house guestroom, the Thompsons' house, Forest Hills, Queens, New York, the same day, 23:49

 

It didn’t take long for my breakdown to wake Iris up, and I’m now sobbing in her shoulder as she does those little circling motions that usually manages to calm me down on the high of my back.

 

Because she knows me, she hadn’t asked why I was in that state. She even wordlessly oozed around me at some point to dry my sticky sweat.

 

She just stays here, softly humming in her alien voice while hugging me as I continue to sob while holding onto her with a deathgrip, like she is a buoy and I am a drowning woman desperately trying not to let go.

 

When I finally calm myself enough, it is to ascertain the truth of my situation once again.

 

“She’s not here…” I mutter under my breath.

 

Iris says nothing, knowing that the only thing she can do right now is to be my pillar in my hurricane of turmoil and quietly listens.

 

“I…,” I start, choking on my words, “I’ve never been this beautiful… I’ve never liked myself this much… And she’s not here.”

 

I strangle another sob.

 

“I can’t show her what I’ve become… Not that I know how she would react if she knew what I did to grasp it.” I continue hesitantly, my heart clenching on itself so hard it’s painful.

 

“Now that I’m whole again…” I carry on, mulling over each of my thoughts, “And that I’m no longer just a ball of confusion, sadness, anger and dulled emotions hiding my true self…”

 

I choke once more, tears streaming down anew.

 

“I miss her…” I whine aloud, not really caring anymore if anyone can hear me, “I miss her so, so much.”

 

Another moment passes as I break down once again, Iris’ previously unoccupied hand losing herself under my snow white curls to bring me just a little closer to her in an effort to comfort me.

 

“What kills me inside…” I start again after exhaling deeply, dampening my tears with the palm of my hand, “Is that I’ll probably never have the chance to tell her that I’m fine… That I’m alive, that I had a second chance.”

 

I choke again, tears pearling once more and I clench my eyelids in an attempt not to let them fall.

 

“She watched me slowly waste away, trapped in the husk of my dying body with nothing she could do…” I mutter, eyes still forcefully closed, “And that’s how she’s going to remember me for the rest of her life…”

 

I exhale with a shudder of painful discomfort at the image.

 

“I miss my wife, Iris…” I tell my sister aloud, my grip on her getting tighter, “I miss the love of my life…”

 

We both stay still for a long while, as she continues to pamper me better and my breath and heartbeat both grow less erratic.

 

Her soft humming finally quietens, but her reassuring grip remains.

 

“You know that you’re wrong, sister.” She whispers to me gently in her star-filled voice.

 

I remain silent as I let her words reach my still quivering mind.

 

“You know what she would say if she was in my place right now, Aria.” She carries on.

 

She knows because I know, but she wants me to say it because I have to, or it’s going to kill me inside.

 

“This is not the end of the world…” I lamely answer her rhetorical question.

 

Her loving embrace gets a little tighter in a supportive gesture.

 

“Indeed, this is not.” She softly continues, “It is important for you to grieve about your loss, blood-sister, but you know how she would have reacted if your mood never improved.”

 

“She would have been mad at me.” I answer with a sad smile.

 

“She’s a strong one, she’ll find the strength to move on.” Iris says decisively and my heartbeat quickens.

 

For a beat, jealousy wars with reason in my head, and it’s not until I realize that I wouldn’t wish for Marie to remain a widow forever that reason finally wins the battle after a beat.

 

I exhale, shuddering a little.

 

“She will.” I admit, even if a part of me dies a little when I say it.

 

“And she wouldn’t want for you to stay sad and lonely due to devotion to her, now that the both of you are a multiverse apart.” Iris declares.

 

Her grip vanishes and I blink my eyes open, a flicker of hurt ghosting on my face.

 

Iris’ hands are suddenly on each side of my face, as she stares in my red and puffy baby blue eyes with her own upslanted lilac ones.

 

“You’ll have to learn to say goodbye, Aria.” My blood-sister affirms, voice dripping with heartfelt compassion, “That’s what she would want you to do.”

 

I stay mute as she puts my head back in the crook of her neck once more and starts her ministrations anew.

 

“She would say that now that you have a second chance, you should enjoy it, sister.” She ends her argument.

 

Her soft humming restarts and I remain silent for a while, [Love, care] and a shared [Sadness] mingling on our mind-link.

 

“You’re right.” I admit as another sad smile blossoms on my lips once again, “She would have been right, like always.”

 

Safely hidden from my painful reality in the crook of my blood-sister’s neck, I mutter under my breath as exhaustion finally caught on me after what had been the longest day of my life.

 

“I’ll have to say goodbye to her.” I sorrowly conclude, as Marie’s smiling face flashes through my mind.

 

Under the care of my sister, dripping with tiredness, grief and guilty joy about my new body, I slowly drift asleep, listening to Iris’ wordless and star-filled little tune, the endless susurrus of the minds around me finally forgotten.

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