Chapter Text
They really ought to get some artwork for the wall, Imogen mused as she bounced, gazing at the wall opposite their bed. They’d been living together in this place for three years, and the walls were still fairly blank. She hadn’t wanted to hang pink sparkles everywhere and hadn’t allowed Nick to put up his fairy lights, thinking they were too grown for that sort of thing, but now she regretted it.
“Oh yeah, just like that Immy,” Nick groaned from beneath her, his hands gripping her thighs. She ignored him and added a little swivel with each rise, hoping it might speed things along. Her muscles were starting to burn and she was hungry. He slid one hand down toward her clitoris, but she intercepted him. She knew he meant well, but that just didn’t work for her when they were… joined, and she wished he would stop trying. Imogen gripped his fingers and pushed their joined hands back to her hip. She gave a little toss of her hair; she knew he liked that, and leaned forward a bit to change the angle.
Nick was getting there, muttering now, “Yes, yesyesyes.” She gave an encouraging hum and moved just slightly faster. She saw his toes clench and knew he was close. Finally.
Not that she minded, exactly. He’d been lovely and made her come twice with his tongue beforehand. She just wished it didn’t take him so long to finish once they started the actual fucking. He made that weird noise of his, and she was glad she was facing away from him so he couldn’t see her smirk. Then she lifted herself off and settled down next to him on the duvet, reaching for the towel to wipe herself down.
“Thank you. That was a nice surprise,” he said, reaching out to stroke her hair.
She smiled and kissed his cheek. “Thank you,” she said cheerfully. She knew that it was tough for him that she almost never initiated, so she was trying to do that more. It made him happy, and Nick deserved to be happy.
“But was that good for you?” he asked earnestly.
Imogen cupped his face in her hand and kissed him. “You made sure I had fun,” she confirmed. And he had. She was just… one of those women who didn’t orgasm from penetration. She knew it was a bit of a disappointment to him, but he took care of her in other ways, and while she and Google had almost convinced him that it wasn’t his fault, she knew he was a bit self-conscious about it.
They’d tried different positions, to no avail. They had invested in a few toys, most of which were a bust, including all of the ones that went inside. Unlike Greg, whom she had dated her second year at Leeds, Nick had never treated her like she was broken. Instead, he seemed to take it as his own defect, so he did his best to make up for it in other ways.
“And now, I’ll make you dinner, shall I?” he asked.
“The perfect man,” she teased back. And it was true, really. Nick was great. They’d met in their last year of uni and dated for a few weeks, but neither of them had wanted to start anything serious when they knew they might be moving on to new jobs, new places, new lives. But only a few months into her first big girl gig in London, she’d run into him at a pub and they’d started dating again, and then had gotten a flat together about six months later.
Nick was kind and hardworking and charming. Neither of them was quite ready for marriage, but that was clearly where things were headed for them, eventually. He made her laugh and baked her favorite lemon drizzle cake when she’d had a bad day and made her evenings lighter by doing his share of the shopping and cooking and laundry. She loved him.
She changed the bedclothes and had a shower, by which time Nick had a mixed grill ready for them. He opened up a bottle of chardonnay and kissed her on the top of her head. “Ready for the new gig tomorrow?” he asked as they settled in.
Imogen shrugged. She was excited about the new job, but not entirely sure what to expect. “Ready as I’ll ever be!” she answered cheerfully.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"You can find all the logs here. So, when you get alerts, this is where to start."
Imogen smiled and nodded, quickly looking up at the other woman and then away. There were so many new people and processes and new systems. But she was very lucky to have the amazing Sahar helping her to get oriented. Sahar was smart and funny and helpful and also… really sexy.
Imogen didn’t routinely notice when people were sexy, but on Wednesday when Sahar crossed her legs and her pants rode up to expose an exceptionally shapely ankle, she felt something. Which surprised her.
It surprised her even more that she didn’t mention it to Nick. Usually, they talked about their little cases of butterflies with someone else. Ironically, it usually brought them closer and made her feel more secure. Nick wasn’t pretending he never noticed another person, but he wasn’t going to act on it, and neither was she.
She was not. No matter how much she felt like a flustered teen when Sahar told her what a good job she was doing. Attraction tended to work that way for her. She would notice, sure, when someone was particularly fetching, but she didn't really get butterflies until she knew something about them, something that impressed her. Like, Sahar played bass and did gigs with her band on the weekend. She had spent a year in Spain and another in Australia before returning to England.
It had been the same way with Nick. Everyone talked about hot how he was, but she didn't really notice how cute his freckles were or how nice his hair was until they volunteered at the dog adoption event together, and she got to see how sweet he was with everyone and the way his eyes lit up every time a puppy nuzzled him. Once you knew Nick, it was impossible not to like him.
It startled her a bit, the way she'd suddenly realise one day that she had a little fascination with someone else. It would pass, this crush on Sahar; it always passed.
It didn’t pass. And then on Monday, Sahar mentioned that there was a group of queer women in tech who met for drinks on Tuesday nights, and would Imogen like to join them. Apparently, her pink, blue, and purple tote bag hadn’t been overlooked.
When she’d mentioned it to Nick, he’d teased her about her crush on Sahar, so obviously she hadn’t been all that subtle after all. But it was the same night that Tara had pub quiz, and she’d been urging Nick to come for ages to shore them up in Sport and History, so that worked out well, them both being busy on the same evening.
Out of excuses, she grabbed the handles of her tote and looked around the bar while her cosmo was being mixed. Sahar saw her and waved her over, sliding over in the bench seat to make room for Imogen to budge in next to her. Sahar grinned at her, the pub lights soft on her sleek, dark hair. Imogen forced herself to look at the others around the table.
“Gals and pals, this is Imogen,” Sahar announced. “She’s just joined the team at my office.”
“Cassie, she/her, biomed,” said a smiling redhead.
“Maureen, she/her, environmental engineering. Everyone calls me ‘Mo’.”
“Darcy, they/them, quality engineer. You build it, I break it.” Darcy winked at her, and Imogen couldn’t help a grin. She gestured to the woman next to her. “And this is Mary Katherine, she/her/Mother Superior.”
“Please ignore them,” said Mary Katherine. “I’m a research physicist, and you can call me MK.”
“So, Sahar says you’re bi,” Darcy said.
Imogen blinked at Darcy, a bit stunned at the directness. “You don’t have to give them your entire romantic history,” Mo assured her. “Darcy is just a nosy bitch.”
“Oi!” Darcy protested, tossing a chip at Mo.
Sahar banged the table. “Sorry about Darcy. The rest of us are reasonably civilised.”
“That’s too bad,” she said, and everyone laughed politely. She sipped her drink and let the others carry on the conversation. They were lovely, full of fun and funny stories. Sahar made sure she was included in the conversation, and by the time two hours had passed, Imogen thought she might have made a few new friends. And she was absolutely going to be back next week.
Nick was still out when she got home. She kicked off her shoes and started a load of washing. Nick sent a text to let her know he was about to get the train and would be home in about thirty minutes. Neither of them had eaten dinner, so Imogen suggested she order a pizza from Alfredo’s down the street and Nick could pick it up on his way.
She felt a little guilty, but knowing she had a good thirty minutes more to herself meant she could get in a little… stress relief. The new job was interesting, but it was a lot of pressure and she wanted so badly to do a good job. She turned down the lights in the bedroom and wriggled out of her skirt and blouse. She put on some soft music and grabbed her Kindle, then slid under the sheet and opened her go-to gay hockey romance book.
Imogen wasn’t sure how to explain the way that reading about sex between guys did it for her; it just did. Alone time with novels of questionable quality had been a habit of hers ever since she’d uncovered a box of Johanna Lindsey paperbacks hidden in the back of her mum’s wardrobe when she was fifteen. She would never say a word to Nick, but those solo sessions were still the most satisfying. No awkward pinches, no sweaty arms around her, no need to perform sexiness for someone else. She’d make it up to him, she told herself as the afterglow faded.
She’d gotten the timing right, her flush skin calmed and a quick salad thrown together by the time Nick waltzed in with the pizza. They settled in at the kitchen worktop to compare notes on their evenings. Both had had fun, met lovely people, enjoyed a few drinks. The trivia team had come in second, mostly thanks to the impressive breadth of knowledge from Tara’s friend, Charlie, who Nick couldn’t say enough good things about. Imogen leaned into his shoulder as they washed up the dishes together. Everything with Nick was just so comfortable and easy.
Curled up in bed next to him, listening to him snuffle softly, she told herself that life was great, that she had everything she had ever wanted. Anything that was missing wasn’t worth giving up what she had. And if she dreamed of long dark hair and warm, soft skin under her fingers, that was between her and her pillow. Nick didn’t need to know.