Home Is In Your Arms

Penny's got the whole place perfect for Kasey—fresh sheets, candles, she's buzzing like a damn live wire. Her wife's been gone for months overseas, and tonight she's finally coming home. When Kasey walks through that door, Penny throws herself at her, grabs that uniform collar and pulls her in like she can't wait another second. They kiss deep, hands everywhere, both of them breathing hard and grinning like idiots who can't believe they're finally touching. Kasey's skin feels warm and real under Penny's fingers, the kind of heat you forget when someone's been away too long. Then Penny clocks the little scar on Kasey's cheek and her whole mood tanks. She freezes, worry flashing across her face like someone's killed the buzz. Kasey catches the look, cups Penny's chin and tells her to knock it off—the scar's nothing, just proof she's still here breathing and fucking alive. She pulls Penny back in, strong arms wrapping tight around her, and mutters that being here with her like this makes everything else bullshit. The room gets hotter fast. Clothes start coming off, that frantic energy kicking back in as they press together like they need to prove they're both still real. Penny's hands slide over the body she's been dreaming about, hungry and selfish, while Kasey groans low and takes charge. They fuck like people who refused to let time or distance fuck them first—slow, filthy, then desperate, then slow again until the only sound in the room is skin on skin and two women remembering exactly what they do to each other.