Title: Over the line Fandom: DCU (post-Young Justice) Pairing: Cassie/Cissie Rating: They're teenagers doing teenaged things in bed. Notes: Happy birthday, Sivi. Cassie's not sure when she crossed the line between innocent, plausible-deniability fooling around, and flat-out lesbian sex. Possibly it was the time Cissie said, "I love you," not in an email or a note where she'd just write "Love you" or a little heart, but right before she gasped and shivered and came. Or maybe it was the first time Cassie started it, instead of Cissie. Cissie's never been what anybody would call normal, exactly, so it was okay when Cissie touched her breasts. But Cassie isn't Cissie. Cassie's normal, or she thought she was. Straight as an arrow, says her brain, and then she laughs. Cissie's falling asleep with her head on Cassie's shoulder, but this wakes her up. "What's so funny?" "Nothing," Cassie says, stroking her hair. "Everything's all right." "Well, yeah," Cissie says, yawning. "You were laughing. Aren't you tired?" She shrugs a little. "Kind of." Then Cissie nibbles her ear and pulls her nightie up. "Or, well, not." "Is that so, Wonder Girl?" Nobody else says it like that, like a blessing and a curse all at once. Cissie gets it like even Kon doesn't, because Kon never ever wasn't Superboy. Cissie kisses her, and it makes Cassie's stomach twist and get warm. Cissie's technique has lot to do with practice-kissing that they don't do any more, because now it's for real. And Cassie should really tell Kon, and let him go, but he's Superboy and he's not here and he's not really, truly real right now. This is between her and Cissie, and Cissie's more important than anything, which is what makes this lesbian sex and not stress-relief kidding each other. Cissie knows just how hard to suck her nipples, and just how quickly she gets wet. Practice makes perfect, and this isn't, isn't practice, because Cassie's moaning like she didn't used to let herself when it was just a game. Cissie gets the rhythm just right, pressing her fingers in, teasing Cassie with her other hand, nuzzling her breasts, and whispering, "God, Cassie, I love you." She means it. And Cassie shudders, meaning it too, wanting it, wanting Cissie with every gasping breath. She wants Cissie's breasts pressed against her face, under her hands, soft and sweet and beautiful. She runs her hand down Cissie's back and feels her muscles, hard and gorgeous. Cissie bites her again, rubs harder, and Cassie pulls her closer, trying not to let herself scream. There are too many people too close by to scream, so she just moans and clenches and gasps for breath. She wants to tell Cissie she loves her, but it's too late. She can't say it when she's in aftershocks, or when Cissie kisses her, gentle and sweet. It would be too obvious. Too real. She's supposed to be able to think clearly now, even though she hasn't thought clearly around Cissie in a really long time. So instead of saying, "I love you," or "We really can't do this anymore," she just says, "That was great," and kisses Cissie while she pulls her nightie down. Cissie grins at her in the darkness and cuddles up to her again. "Good. 'night, Cassie." Cassie gives her a little squeeze that's supposed to mean "I love you" and kisses her forehead. "'night." Too easy
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