Chapter Text
Nancy has lost her goddamn mind.
It's the only explanation she has for unwittingly winding up in such a dangerous conversation, especially with Robin. But it's fine, it's fine because girls who are friends talk about this kind of thing all the time, right? They talk about falling in love and dating and… sex. She hadn't really gotten the chance to do so before—after all, back when she was relatively normal, a "priss," as Robin apparently liked to say back then—she hadn't been having any sex about which to gossip.
Of course, those girls probably aren't having this discussion while sitting on their childhood bed with the person they have recently realised they would really, really like to do all these things with, but what does she know? She's only ever had one legitimately close girl friend, and she got her killed. The thought sends tension rippling along her jaw. She fights the urge to shake her head, willing the thought away. Now is not the time for that. Right now, Robin is talking to her. She's talking to her about… Nancy refocuses on the conversation, gathering threads, and catches the end of Robin's surely meandering sequence of thoughts.
"I cannot be the only person on campus who hasn't even kissed somebody, Nance," Robin whines. She runs an agitated hand through her soft-looking hair and Nancy watches the movement like a hawk. She'd like to be the one to see what her hair feels like, to dig her fingers into the thick of it, wrap what little she can around her fingers. She'd like to pull, too, just a little tug, just to see.
Back to Robin's lamentation, though. Well. Apparently, that's something she knows about Robin. She knows that. Now. She tries to shove it to the back of her mind, unfortunately all too aware that she can't simply unlearn it. It's hard not to think about it.
Nancy cocks her head with a sympathetic smile on her face. She should say something reassuring, like there's nothing wrong with waiting, especially given that they've grown up in Hawkins, Indiana. She should encourage her. If they say the boys are so much better in college, it should go the same for the women, if not doubly so. She should say something. She studies Robin a moment, the patient, imploring blue eyes, the distress thick in the furrow of her brow, and then the offer is out before she really thinks it through. "You could kiss me."
Fuck. She should have thought about it—way more. Like, at all. Jesus Christ.
Robin freezes and Nancy doesn't blame her, considering she's saying things that she's apparently pulled from outer space, so she hurries to add, "Only if you want to, obviously. I just thought—this is a safe environment and it's not like I'll react badly."
Yes. Great. A perfectly reasonable justification for the stupidest thing she's possibly ever said. It's no wonder she was out of the running for Hawkins High valedictorian. They should've taken away her honour roll designation, too.
Nancy watches Robin process with a practiced neutral expression. She's gotten better about it, since their field trip to the library all that time ago—being a little more patient, a little more aware that other people can work just as well but in a different way than she does. At least, when that other person is Robin, anyway. She's so pretty when she's pensive, eyebrows cutely pinched together, slight purse to her lips, intelligence practically pouring out of her captivating eyes.
Robin bites her lip, obviously mulling it over, light pink in her cheeks. Nancy glances down and Robin's picking at her nail beds, another anxious habit she's noticed over the course of their friendship. Idly, Nancy wonders how long she's been doing these things for—when did the anxiety make itself too loud and force Robin to find ways to cope? Does anyone else know? Has anyone noticed aside from her? What does she think about, when she gets quiet like this? How does she spiral?
"Are you sure?" Robin finally asks, clearly worrying, the stress more than an undercurrent in her tone, but at least she's not tensed to bolt like she's three seconds from never being seen again. "You wouldn't mind?" she continues with a sharp edge of doubt and concern splattered all over her face—as plentiful as her wonderful freckles.
Nancy chuckles once in a way that she hopes comes off as nonchalant. She's actually feeling very, very chalant—or whatever conjugation of chaloir would be right here. She'd ask Robin to go over it again for her, except… she clears her throat instead. "I offered," she reminds Robin.
"Right," Robin says with a nod. "You did… offer." She chews her lip a little more before she nods again. "That would be really great actually," Robin confesses in a breathy exhale. "I do not want to admit how long I've been worrying about it, and it's only going to matter if we don't die before then, and like, hopefully that's less likely now—I know El said it was over, but it doesn't really feel like—"
Nancy reaches up and cups Robin's jaw with her hand, gliding her touch against the pleasant heat of Robin's skin. Robin stops talking abruptly as Nancy gently rubs her thumb underneath Robin's bottom lip. She can feel a little bit of Robin's hair under her fingertips at her neck, but she focuses on Robin's big blue eyes. They're locked in a heady gaze with Nancy's. She can't look away from Robin, couldn't even if she wanted to. And there is nothing she wants less.
"You can," Nancy whispers encouragingly. She lifts Robin's chin just a touch, preemptively attempting to fix their angle, and carefully surveys Robin's face. It takes a few seconds—what wouldn't Nancy give to be a fly on a wall in Robin's head right now—and then those stormy blue eyes deepen with resolve. Robin inches forward, her hand coming up to mirror Nancy's on her jaw. Her hand is warm, the touch delicate as her fingers settle against Nancy's skin. She fights a shiver down her spine.
"You can stop me anytime," Robin murmurs and before Nancy can even nod, Robin has pushed forward. Nancy's eyes close reflexively, and Robin's lips press against hers. They're firm, shockingly close to confident, despite Robin's self-professed lack of experience. There's a slight hint of strawberry, maybe, from chapstick that has long since worn away if the slight dryness of her lips is any indication. All too quickly, Robin's lips leave Nancy's and, instinctually, Nancy chases her mouth.
God, if this is her one chance at this, she doesn't want it to be over yet. She barely got to experience that kiss, let alone enjoy it.
She kisses Robin harder, lets her lips part slightly in an open invitation—after all, a peck isn't really going to do it—not for those women who will undoubtedly be all over Robin at Smith. She ignores the flash of irritation at the thought and the accompanying painful twist behind her ribs. This might be Robin's first kiss, but it feels like Nancy's first kiss, too. It's fire and need and disbelief mixed with adrenaline zipping through her brain.
Robin takes to it so naturally, like she was made to kiss the breath from Nancy's lungs, to ignite the gasoline hiding under every inch of Nancy's skin. Robin seizes the invitation with a faint, teasing lick—the tip of her tongue runs along Nancy's bottom lip—and Nancy can't even think. Robin is all there is, the heat of her, the power of her, the intoxicating taste of her that Nancy wants to devour for the rest of her life.
A small sound from the back of Nancy's throat escapes before she can stop it and she swears she feels Robin's lips turn up into a smile against her mouth. Nancy tugs the back of Robin's neck, a shade too desperate to pull her closer, and this time Nancy repays the favour of Robin's tongue blessing her mouth. The kiss is deep and languid and so frighteningly good that Nancy loses herself in the feel of it. She likes the strength of Robin's hand gripping her jaw, likes the easy slip of her against her tongue, the steadiness of Robin's hand drifting down her neck.
Robin draws away, no more than an inch, just long enough for Nancy to flutter her eyes open briefly and clock Robin's dilated pupils before surging forward again with a hard, closed-mouth kiss. Her thumb brushes Nancy's collarbone and then Robin pulls back, breathing hard. Nancy opens her eyes, dazed, to find Robin already looking at her, all dark eyes and flushed cheeks and what Nancy now knows are extremely kissable, addictive lips. Robin licks them, almost absent-mindedly, and all Nancy can do is follow the movement with the dregs of her focus.
"Um," Robin starts, quiet and breathless. "Thanks, Nance." There's a trace of incredulity in her tone, Nancy thinks. Except all of her brain cells have short-circuited and are currently missing in action, so she can't be sure.
"Anytime," Nancy says, meaning it, impressing herself by having enough function to use a word that makes sense for the context. Robin chuckles swiftly and this might be the only time Nancy's really witnessed Robin when she's pleasantly quiet. She's not subdued, but her fingers aren't drumming or picking at her skin and words aren't coming out at a mile a minute either. She's just… calm.
God, she's so beautiful, so handsome…. "What about right now?" she asks eagerly, unable to stop herself when Robin, maybe the greatest love of her life, is looking so sweetly debauched—when Nancy is the one who made her look like that. She can't help glancing down at Robin's mouth and letting her stare linger, remembering how good it felt against her own.
"Please," Robin whispers quickly, rough—pleading—before darting forward again. There's so much force, their teeth lightly clack together, but the slight pulse of pain is nothing. Nancy sinks into the feeling of Robin's mouth and lets Robin consume her—lips, teeth, tongue, and all. Her hand pulls at Nancy's neck and Nancy fumbles blindly with her free hand to find Robin's other one in the no man's land space between their calves atop the duvet. She grasps it like a lifeline and presses it firmly against her waist, right where her shirt's starting to ride up. It's clumsy and endearing, the way Robin's fingers stumble over the barest slip of skin, so utterly Robin that Nancy needs more of her, immediately.
She climbs into Robin's lap, one knee on either side of her hips, and Robin's muffled groan wisps away into the back of Nancy's throat. Her hand slides from the back of Robin's neck down around her shoulders to wrap the loosened end of Robin's orange paisley tie around her fingers. When she pulls on it, Robin's breath catches, her lips parting mid-kiss against Nancy's bruising mouth, and Nancy thinks she would do anything—anything—for that to be the last sound she hears before she dies.
She pushes against Robin's shoulder with her tied hand, putting her whole weight behind it until they're falling and Robin's back hits the bed in a winded exhale. A jolt of triumph travels the length of Nancy's body with the victory, buzzing with the feeling of having Robin on her back underneath her.
"You okay?" Nancy murmurs against Robin's lips, leaning down to get more of her body pressed against Robin's long torso. She's so warm and firm, so steady beneath her. There is nowhere Nancy would rather be than here, straddling Robin's lithe thighs, feeling the gentle roughness of Robin's corduroy pants against the sensitive skin of her own inner thighs.
She doesn't think she's ever been so grateful skirts, not when there's the delectable friction between Robin's pants getting closer and closer to the parts of her still covered by her underwear. A pitifully wanton noise leaves her mouth, only for Robin to swallow it hungrily. Nancy needs her bare skin against Robin's immediately or she fears she might die.
"Great," Robin hoarsely responds, breathing hard, shifting her kisses to the corner of Nancy's mouth, along her jaw, down her neck. Both of her hands have migrated to Nancy's hips, fingers sliding under the hem of her shirt and skirting across the responsive skin of her belly. Pressure coils down there, too, with the way a soft moan leaves Robin's mouth only to bury itself in the hollow of Nancy's neck.
Nancy's hands drift to Robin's shoulders, crumpling the extra fabric of her dress shirt in tight fists as Robin's tongue joins her lips in the assault on her neck. The gasp leaves her mouth of its own accord as Nancy's eyes slam shut—the scrape of Robin's teeth as they descend to her collarbone might actually kill her. Heat and pressure build up low in Nancy's belly and she can tell by the way her underwear barely rubs against her that she's embarrassingly wet. Maybe the wettest she's ever been in her whole life. Maybe in all of it combined.
She doesn't realise she's started rocking her hips against Robin's body, searching for that sweet relief of divine friction, until the corduroy brushes her clit through her underwear just right and an obnoxiously loud moan pours out of her lips.
Robin goes still, freezing in place, and Nancy bites back a whine. She should've kept her mouth shut, should've stuffed Robin's tie into her mouth so she could stay quiet, so Robin wouldn't be pulled back to reality—wouldn't be able to second-guess the way Nancy is halfway to coming undone on Robin's pants.
"Holy fuck," Robin says, voice deeper than Nancy's ever heard it before. "Make that sound for me again, Nance," she says firmly, the words bordering on an order, and Nancy—well, there's not much Nancy wouldn't do for Robin.
She grinds her hips down against Robin's again and the pressure is almost as good the second time around, but combined with the intensity of Robin's gaze that Nancy can feel on her face, combined with the way Robin's hips try to help by pressing up, this cry is louder.
"Fuck," Robin says again, desperately, her hips rising again and Nancy bites down on her tongue at the sudden surprise of it.
"Yes," Nancy pants, tightening her grip on Robin's shirt. "Please," she whimpers eagerly.
Robin's fingers dig into Nancy's hips and Nancy shudders. "You mean—I can—?" Robin stammers, and when Nancy finally glances down at her, she wants nothing more than to rip this fucking shirt off of her. Nancy's lipstick is smudged all over her cheeks and her lips. Her hair's a little wild, but nothing beats the way Robin's pupils are blown, so massive Nancy thinks she could sink into one for the rest of her life. She looks so fucking good, so hot and sexy and Nancy's that all she can think about is the fastest way to get Robin's fingers inside of her.
Nancy manages to find the words for both of them. "You can fuck me," Nancy promises, like it's not the only thing she can think about. Like Robin's long fingers sliding easily into her dripping cunt somehow doesn't sound like the best thing ever. She rolls her hips with a yearning hum.
"Fuck," Robin says again, slack-jawed and mesmerised, and Nancy can't help her smile. For someone who never seems to run out of words, Nancy thinks she might just have broken Robin.
She wishes she could put the accomplishment on a trophy and wear a damn medal about it.
"Take my shirt off," Nancy says, releasing the death grip on Robin's shoulders so she can slide her fingers over to the buttons of the shirt. If she didn't know for a fact that Robin liked this shirt a lot, she'd be even more tempted to just tear it open, buttons be damned. She's spent too long wanting, dreaming, and getting herself off to be denied the feel of Robin's skin for much longer.
The disappointment of Robin's fingers leaving her waist is short-lived as they yank the bottom hem of Nancy's shirt up. She pauses with two buttons left on Robin's shirt to help get her own over her head and revels in the way Robin's mouth gapes, staring at her chest. Nancy seizes the opportunity to finish with Robin's shirt and tries to push it off her shoulders until Robin resurfaces for long enough to help fling it to the floor.
Nancy's awestruck look could rival Robin's from mere moments before, she's sure, because Robin—Robin isn't wearing a bra. It's all smooth skin and hard nipples and every intention Nancy had of commanding Robin to take her bra off for her evaporates like a drop of water on the surface of the sun. She leans down, pressing kisses into Robin's neck, biting lightly at her skin, sucking at the hollow of her throat.
Her hands land gently on Robin's bare stomach and then slowly travel across her ribs to the curve of her breasts. "Is this okay?" Nancy asks into the skin below Robin's chin.
"Yes!" Robin's answer is quick and enthusiastic. She even arches her back a little, pressing her chest up, and Nancy lets her hands finish their trip. She cups one breast in each of her hands as she kisses and nibbles her way down Robin's neck. Her left thumb passes over Robin's nipple and draws a sharp inhale that Nancy feels reverberate through her whole body. She smiles into the mark she sucks into Robin's sternum before her lips smoothly continue to the right.
When she seals her mouth around Robin's nipple, Robin's hips jerk up, making just enough contact with Nancy's covered clit to force a fervent noise from her throat. She drowns Robin's nipple in attention, gliding her tongue over it, kissing it, scraping her teeth against the firmness of it. Her fingers pinch and pull, her hand holds and squeezes, trying not to let Robin's other breast feel left out of the fun. She collects Robin's shaky breaths, her mewls, her whispered, almost anguished curses that leave her lips in senseless strings.
God, please never let this end. She never wants to stop learning the sounds Robin makes, the way her breaths grow shorter, the way her fists curl into the duvet cover and her knuckles turn white as she grips onto it just because Nancy chooses to suck. She releases Robin's nipple, now all glistening and red and even more beautiful than before, and feels Robin's body go limp beneath her.
Nancy smiles, full of teeth. Then she kisses her way across the valley between Robin's breasts and paints her concentration onto the other breast. Instantly, Robin goes tense all over again, arching, gripping, groaning even as she tries to lift her body in a way that will get more of her breast into the warmth of Nancy's mouth.
It's a fucking privilege to take Robin apart like this. And if this is the only chance Nancy gets to do it, she's going to take her time. She's going to make sure Robin never forgets the way this feels, no matter how many other women she might come for in the future. Nancy growls around the nipple in her mouth and slides her free hand down Robin's stomach and side slowly, drawing out another exquisite series of raspy inhales.
She passes over the waist of Robin's cords and settles her hand heavily against the button—a silent offer, a question of permission.
"Please," Robin croaks out, voice breaking halfway through the simple word.
Nancy uses her teeth to tug a little as the button falls open easily beneath her fingers, preening with the groan that leaves Robin's mouth. A hand grazes the back of Nancy's head and disappears, but now that Nancy's felt it, she wants it. She needs it.
"You can put it in my hair," she says, and then because she's already released the nipple she'd been enjoying so thoroughly, she blows a breath across the tip of it. Robin shivers in a way that makes Nancy want to bask in it and do it over and over again.
"Fuck, Nance," Robin practically whines, but her hand slides into Nancy's hair like it's coming home.
Nancy can't wait for it to pull, for Robin's hand to grow firm on the back of her head. She just hopes she'll be able to get her mouth on her before Robin figures it out.
She slowly walks her fingers down Robin's fly, unzipping it as she goes and applying a light pressure as her hand descends. She takes the nipple back into her mouth just as she cups Robin through her pants and presses hard, hard enough to ensure the friction gets all the way to Robin's clit under her layers.
"Oh my God," Robin cries, hips jumping up off the bed, clearly searching for more of Nancy's touch.
"It's okay, Rob," Nancy soothes, recalling her hand to the waist of Robin's pants. "I'll take care of you, baby." The words slip out before Nancy can call them back, the pet name so natural and right that Nancy doesn't want to take it back. Robin whimpers, throaty and frantic.
"Please," Robin breathes. "Please, please, please."
"I promise," Nancy vows. "Now, be a good girl for me and get these—" she yanks one of Robin's belt loops, "—out of my way."
She's not sure she's ever seen Robin move so fast, not even in the Upside Down. She rolls out from under Nancy's body, hurriedly trying to shove her pants down her legs while still half-on the bed.
In for a penny, in for a pound, as they say. "These, too, baby," Nancy says, reaching over to pluck the waistband of Robin's boxers. They're gone in the next moment, joining the shapeless heap of Robin's clothing on the floor.
"Come right here, Rob," Nancy instructs as Robin's second sock joins the pile. She doesn't want to give Robin a single moment to second-guess her actions, to second-guess Nancy. She pats the middle of the bed and Robin practically leaps into the spot atop Nancy's hand. She gives a short laugh at the endlessly endearing enthusiasm and then taps Robin's knees.
"Legs apart, please," she directs, before sliding into the space between them. She gives herself one long look, trailing her eyes down from Robin's reddened face to her heaving chest, to how alluring she looks lying back against the pillows, legs parted and waiting for Nancy. Even from a distance, she can see that Robin's wet and she licks her lips.
God, she needs to taste her.
But first, she needs to see how riled up she can get Robin before she combusts, before she's a sputtering mess rambling nonsense with how urgently she needs to come. She sets one finger down in the space between Robin's breasts and trails it, agonisingly slowly, making sure to scrape her nail down her skin, gathering up a little bit of the sheen of sweat at the end of her finger.
When she looks up at Robin, her eyes are closed, head thrown back. Nancy's finger stops. "Look at me," she commands softly. Bleary, unfocused eyes open and seek out Nancy's focused gaze. "Good," she compliments. "Don't stop looking at me." Don't think about anyone else. Don't forget that Nancy is the one who is going to take her apart.
Her finger continues, over the small bump at the base of Robin's belly and then through the damp curls. Robin's hips lurch up only to almost immediately be forced back down—all without Nancy needing to move her finger. She barely brushes against the hairs as Robin's body curves beneath her finger. Ghosting her touch along her cunt, Nancy can read the tension in every muscle, how hard Robin's working to keep herself still and obedient and pliant for her.
Nancy presses her whole hand against Robin's heated skin, feels the hairs under her palm, the wetness immediately clinging to her flattened fingers. Robin gasps, then moans, and finally lets out a keening, "Fuck," when Nancy applies a modicum of pressure. She can't help herself. Her middle finger dips in, moving easily from how slick Robin is, and Nancy stifles a moan.
"Fuck," she almost wheezes, seized with the sudden burning need to sink three fingers in deep until Robin forgets her own name. "You're so wet," she marvels, letting her middle finger glide up, barely grazing a nub of flesh that's firmer than everything else.
Robin chokes. "Fuck, please," she begs unselfconsciously. Nancy doesn't think she's ever heard anything so good. "I'm only wet for you, Nance," she rambles. Well, okay. Maybe that. "Always, driving me fucking crazy, please," she almost sobs. Fuck, or that. "I'm so close." Jesus Christ, she's trying to kill her.
"Well, that won't do," Nancy comments, removing her hand despite how much her whole body is singing for her to dive knuckles-deep and try to help Robin meet God. She squeezes her thighs together, but the hint of pressure does nowhere near enough to combat the rising tide of desire taking over her senses.
Nancy shuffles down the bed, laying chaste kisses against Robin's chest, her stomach, her mound as she goes. She reaches up with both hands to corral her hair, using the hair tie around her wrist to wrangle it into a surely stupid-looking little ponytail. Robin stares at her with laser focus, eyes wide and hungry.
"I only have one rule, Rob," Nancy says, enjoying the way Robin's eyes shine with the challenge inherent in her words. "Either your hands are on that headboard or they're in my hair, got it?"
Robin's mouth opens and closes soundlessly before she simply nods. Her hands reach up behind her and she scrambles to find some part of the headboard to clamp onto.
"Good," Nancy says with a smirk, enjoying the way Robin seems to blossom with pride at the praise. "Now, focus on me." She leans down and blows a lingering kiss against the top of Robin's cunt. She adjusts herself a bit, getting comfortable and wrapping her arms around Robin's thighs, luxuriating in the way she can feel every twitch of muscle against her skin. She feigns like she's going to finally give Robin what she's been craving—direct pressure on her clit—only to duck to the side and kiss her reverence against Robin's thighs first.
She travels open-mouthed kisses along smooth skin, dotting her way down one leg to a knee before crossing over to the other and making her way back up. Robin's leg twitches as Nancy approaches that perfect dip of skin between thigh and cunt and Nancy can't make herself torture them both any longer.
Robin tastes like freedom and Nancy's been starving her whole life for just a morsel.
It's only her desire to make this the best experience of Robin's life that keeps her from diving in messy and maybe a little feral from the start. She doles out pleasure in precise measures: a long lick up her slit, a probing tongue circling her clit. Every muttered curse, every high-pitched breath from Robin's mouth is fuel added to the blaze burning away between Nancy's legs.
She applies more pressure, lets her tongue flick harder, glide faster. She rounds her mouth and sucks and the sound of the headboard straining under Robin's hands douses her senses with kerosene. Her whole body lights up and she digs in with even more fervour, pulling away less often, slipping down to try and fuck Robin with the measly length of her tongue.
Robin lets out an impatient sob when Nancy draws her head away, just briefly to say, "You taste so fucking good, Rob," before her tongue is back to weave Robin's pleasure tighter. She tries to pull Robin closer to her mouth by her hips and thoroughly delights in the pleased hum Robin lets out at being manhandled.
Nancy is trying to hold on, trying to draw this out until Robin—and there it finally is. One of Robin's hands shakily slides into Nancy's hair, gripping a handful experimentally, and Nancy rewards her.
Two fingers sink into Robin effortlessly, but Robin tugs her hair, pulling her tongue tighter against her clit, as words start tumbling out of Robin's mouth—raspy, pleading, mindless. "Yes, oh fuck, yes," Robin stumbles over the encouragement as Nancy draws her fingers back. She thrusts them back in, spreading them a little, stretching out Robin's cunt, and Robin devolves.
"Oh, fuck, fuck, yes, fuck me, fuck, you're so fucking good at this, Nance," Robin mumbles. "Please, baby, please, I'm so close, baby—"
She's never loved when someone's called her baby before, but something about the name on Robin's lips, something about the way she loves Robin—desire coils tighter in Nancy's belly. She tucks a third finger in, curls them, and gives Robin's clit soft licks as she sucks, trying to finally give Robin her well-earned release.
Robin's whole body arches off the bed, going stiff. Her hand on Nancy's head spasms, forcing Nancy in so close she can barely breathe. The headboard creaks again and Robin brainlessly calls out, "Fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuck," before she lets loose a long, high wail. Nancy's fingers move even more easily with the fresh wave of Robin's arousal—she can even feel some of it start to pool in her palm as she continues to fuck Robin through her orgasm.
If this is how she dies, Nancy has no complaints. Suffocated by Robin's cunt and thighs is a way better death than she ever expected, and, honestly? What a fucking way to go.
Nancy eases up on the pressure, shifting the pace of her fingers to something more languid, something more intentional to lull Robin's shaking body through the aftershocks. She squeezes Robin's hip bones and gives her clit one last swipe of her tongue, indulging in the way Robin's body shudders hard at the stimulation, before slowly drawing out her fingers.
Robin's fingers are slack in her hair and Nancy shifts so she can lean on one elbow, looking up past the hurried rise and fall of Robin's abdomen to make eye contact. Robin is gazing at her a little dopily, a loose grin on her lips. She's covered in a faint film of sweat that glistens brilliantly when the light hits just right.
Locking their eyes, Nancy brings her fingers to her lips and cleans them with her tongue, sucking them into her mouth just to be thorough. Robin's jaw drops, her hand falls from the headboard, and she barrels forward.
Robin kisses her like she's the only source of oxygen in the world, like she's desperate for it—for her—and Nancy relishes it. She lets Robin pull her up the bed and roll her over, all the while sinking a little closer to death with Robin's tongue on her neck, her teeth digging into her skin.
"My turn," Robin says lowly, almost a growl.
Nancy's heart stops.