The air in the cabin smells of cedar and damp earth, a scent that clings to everything , clothes, hair, even the pages of the book Mara’s been pretending to read for the last hour. She’s sprawled on the sagging couch, one leg hooked over the armrest, her bare toes curling against the frayed upholstery. The fireplace crackles, spitting sparks that die before they hit the stone hearth. Outside, the wind howls through the pines, a low moan that makes the windows rattle. It’s been three days since they arrived at this rented nowhere, a speck on a map in the Oregon wilderness, and the silence between them is starting to feel like a third person in the room.
Mara glances at Lena, who’s sitting cross-legged on the floor, her back against the coffee table, a half-empty glass of red wine balanced on her knee. Lena’s wearing a faded flannel shirt, sleeves rolled to her elbows, and her dark hair is pulled into a messy bun that’s starting to unravel. She’s staring at the fire, her lips parted just enough to show the edge of her teeth, and Mara wonders what she’s thinking , whether she’s replaying the same jagged moments Mara’s been chewing on since they got here. The argument in the car on the way up, the one about nothing and everything. The way Lena’s voice cracked when she said, “I just don’t know how to talk to you anymore.” The way Mara didn’t answer, because what could she say that wouldn’t sound like an apology she didn’t mean?
They’ve been friends for a decade, roommates for half that, and something else , something unspoken , for longer than either of them will admit. It’s in the way Lena’s hand lingers on Mara’s shoulder when she passes her in the kitchen, the way Mara catches herself watching Lena’s reflection in the bathroom mirror while she brushes her teeth. It’s in the nights they’ve fallen asleep on the couch, legs tangled under a blanket, and woken up pretending it was an accident. But here, in this cabin with no Wi-Fi, no distractions, no excuses, the weight of it feels heavier. Like the air is pressing down, waiting for one of them to crack.
Mara shifts, the couch creaking under her weight, and Lena’s eyes flick toward her, quick and sharp. “You’re fidgeting,” Lena says, her voice low, not quite teasing but not quite serious either.
“Am not,” Mara shoots back, but she pulls her leg off the armrest and sits up, tucking her feet under her. Her tank top rides up, exposing a sliver of her stomach, and she feels Lena’s gaze settle there for a second too long before it darts back to the fire. Mara’s pulse kicks up, a dull thud in her throat. She wants to say something, anything, to break the quiet, but her mouth feels dry, and the words stick.
Lena takes a sip of her wine, her throat moving as she swallows, and Mara watches the motion, transfixed by the curve of her neck, the way the firelight catches the faint freckles scattered across her collarbone. She’s always thought Lena was beautiful, but not in the way people usually mean it , not polished or perfect. Lena’s beauty is raw, unselfconscious, like the way she laughs with her whole body or the way she curses when she stubs her toe. It’s the kind of beauty that makes Mara’s chest ache, like she’s holding her breath too long.
“You want some?” Lena asks, holding up the wine bottle, her voice cutting through Mara’s thoughts. She’s looking at Mara now, her eyes dark and unreadable, and there’s something in her tone that feels like a challenge.
Mara hesitates, then nods. “Sure.” She slides off the couch and crosses the room, her bare feet cold against the hardwood. Lena pours the wine into a chipped mug , because of course they forgot to pack proper glasses , and hands it to her. Their fingers brush, just for a second, and Mara feels a jolt, like static electricity but deeper, warmer. She takes the mug and sits on the floor next to Lena, close enough that their knees almost touch.
They drink in silence, the fire popping and hissing, the wind outside growing louder. Mara’s hyper-aware of Lena’s presence , the heat of her body, the faint scent of her shampoo, the way her breath catches every now and then, like she’s about to say something but changes her mind. Mara wants to ask what’s wrong, wants to ask why Lena’s been so distant, but she’s afraid of the answer. Afraid it’ll be something they can’t come back from.
Instead, she says, “Remember that summer we went to the lake? When you tried to teach me how to dive and I just kept belly-flopping?” It’s a safe memory, one they’ve laughed about a hundred times, and she hopes it’ll loosen the knot in the air.
Lena’s lips twitch, not quite a smile. “You were hopeless,” she says, her voice softening. “Kept saying you were gonna drown me if I didn’t stop pushing you.”
“You were relentless,” Mara counters, grinning despite herself. “Kept grabbing my wrists and dragging me back to the dock.”
Lena laughs, a small, real sound, and for a moment, it’s like they’re back there , sunburned and carefree, water dripping from their hair, no weight between them. But then Lena’s laugh fades, and her eyes meet Mara’s, and there’s something new in them, something that makes Mara’s stomach twist. Not anger, not sadness, but something hotter, sharper. Hunger, maybe. Or fear.
“You ever think about it?” Lena asks, her voice so quiet Mara almost misses it. She’s not looking at the fire anymore, just at Mara, her gaze steady and unblinking.
“Think about what?” Mara’s heart is pounding now, too loud, and she’s sure Lena can hear it.
Lena doesn’t answer right away. She sets her wineglass down, deliberate, and shifts so she’s facing Mara fully, one knee drawn up, her hands resting on her thighs. Her flannel shirt gapes open at the collar, showing the edge of her bra, black and plain, and Mara’s eyes catch there before she forces them back to Lena’s face.
“Us,” Lena says finally, the word heavy, like it’s been sitting in her mouth for years. “What we could’ve been. If we weren’t so fucking scared all the time.”
Mara’s breath catches, and she feels like she’s standing on the edge of something vast and unknown, like the lake all those years ago, only this time there’s no dock to climb back onto. She wants to laugh it off, to say something light and deflecting, but the look in Lena’s eyes stops her. It’s not a question anymore. It’s a door, half-open, and Mara’s not sure she’s brave enough to walk through it.
But then Lena leans forward, just a fraction, and Mara feels the pull, like gravity, like the tide. Her mug of wine is still in her hand, forgotten, and she sets it down blindly, her fingers trembling. The space between them is so small now, just a breath, and Mara can feel the heat of Lena’s skin, the faint tremor in her hands as they hover, not quite touching.
“Lena,” Mara says, her voice barely a whisper, and it’s not a question or a plea, just her name, like a prayer she didn’t know she was holding.
Lena’s eyes flicker, and then she closes the distance, her hand brushing Mara’s cheek, her thumb tracing the curve of her jaw. It’s not a kiss, not yet, but it’s close, so close, and Mara’s whole body is alive with it, every nerve singing, every thought drowned out by the pounding of her heart.
The fire cracks, loud in the quiet, and they both freeze, their faces inches apart, their breaths mingling. Mara can taste the wine on Lena’s breath, can see the pulse jumping in her throat. The moment stretches, taut and fragile, and Mara knows this is it , the edge, the point of no return. She could pull back, laugh it off, pretend this never happened. Or she could lean in.
She leans in.
Mara’s lips meet Lena’s, and it’s not soft or tentative like she imagined it might be. It’s urgent, messy, like they’ve both been holding their breath for years and this is the first gulp of air. Lena’s mouth is warm, tasting of wine and something sharper, something uniquely her, and Mara feels a sound rise in her throat, half-moan, half-sob, muffled against Lena’s lips. Lena’s hand is still on Mara’s cheek, her fingers curling into her hair, pulling just enough to make Mara’s scalp tingle. The other hand finds Mara’s waist, gripping the hem of her tank top, knuckles brushing bare skin.
They’re still on the floor, the hardwood cold against Mara’s knees, but she barely notices. All she can feel is Lena , her breath, her heat, the way her body shifts closer, pressing into Mara’s space like she’s claiming it. Mara’s hands move on their own, one sliding up Lena’s arm, tracing the curve of her bicep under the flannel, the other resting on Lena’s thigh, fingers digging into the denim. The kiss deepens, tongues meeting, and it’s not graceful but it’s real, raw, like they’re both trying to say everything they’ve never said.
Lena pulls back first, just enough to breathe, her forehead resting against Mara’s. Her eyes are dark, pupils blown wide, and there’s a flush across her cheeks that makes Mara want to trace it with her fingers, her lips, her tongue. “Fuck,” Lena whispers, her voice rough, and Mara laughs, a shaky, breathless sound, because it’s so perfectly Lena to swear at a moment like this.
“Yeah,” Mara says, her own voice hoarse, and then they’re kissing again, harder this time, Lena’s teeth grazing Mara’s bottom lip, not quite a bite but close. Mara’s hands roam, slipping under Lena’s flannel, finding the soft skin of her lower back, the faint ridge of her spine. Lena makes a sound, low and needy, and it sends a jolt through Mara, pooling heat low in her belly.
Lena’s hands are moving too, tugging at Mara’s tank top, pulling it up and over her head in one quick motion. Mara’s skin prickles in the cool air, her nipples hardening under her thin bra, and Lena’s eyes drop, taking her in, unashamed. “God, you’re gorgeous,” Lena says, and it’s not a line, not rehearsed , it’s just true, the way she says it, like she’s been thinking it forever. Mara feels exposed, vulnerable, but not in a bad way. In a way that makes her want to give Lena everything.
Lena’s flannel comes off next, buttons undone with fumbling fingers, revealing the black bra Mara glimpsed earlier, the curve of her breasts, the faint scar on her ribcage from a skateboarding accident when they were nineteen. Mara reaches out, tracing the scar with her fingertip, and Lena shivers, her breath hitching. “You remember that?” Lena asks, her voice soft but thick with something unspoken.
“Course I do,” Mara says, and then she’s leaning in, pressing her lips to the scar, tasting salt and skin. Lena’s hands are in her hair again, guiding her, and Mara moves upward, kissing the hollow of Lena’s throat, the edge of her jaw, the corner of her mouth. They’re a tangle now, legs overlapping, bodies pressed close, and Mara can feel Lena’s heartbeat against her own, fast and unsteady.
Lena shifts, pushing Mara gently backward until she’s lying on the rug, the firelight casting shadows across her skin. Lena straddles her hips, her weight grounding, and Mara looks up at her, struck by how right this feels, how inevitable. Lena’s hands slide down Mara’s sides, slow and deliberate, thumbs brushing the undersides of her breasts through her bra. Mara arches into the touch, her breath catching, and Lena smiles, a small, almost wicked curve of her lips.
“You want this?” Lena asks, her voice low, and it’s not just about the moment , it’s about all of it, everything they’ve been circling for years. Mara nods, her throat tight, and then she says it out loud, because Lena deserves to hear it.
“Yes. God, yes.”
Lena’s smile widens, and then she’s leaning down, kissing Mara again, deep and slow, while her hands work at the clasp of Mara’s bra, freeing her breasts to the cool air. Lena’s mouth follows, trailing kisses down Mara’s neck, across her collarbone, until she takes a nipple into her mouth, her tongue circling, teasing. Mara gasps, her hips bucking involuntarily, and Lena hums against her skin, the vibration sending sparks through Mara’s body.
Mara’s hands are clumsy with want, fumbling with Lena’s bra, finally getting it off and tossing it somewhere across the room. She pulls Lena closer, skin against skin, and they kiss again, all teeth and tongue, desperate and hungry. Lena’s hand slides lower, unbuttoning Mara’s jeans, slipping inside to find her already wet, her fingers moving with a confidence that makes Mara’s head spin. Mara moans, loud and unashamed, and Lena’s breath hitches, like the sound is doing as much to her as her touch is doing to Mara.
“Wait,” Lena says suddenly, pulling back, her chest heaving. Mara blinks up at her, dazed, her body thrumming with need. Lena’s lips are swollen, her hair a mess, and she looks like something Mara wants to wreck and worship all at once. “I brought something,” Lena says, a hint of nervousness in her voice, and Mara’s curiosity spikes.
Lena scrambles to her feet, crossing the room to her duffel bag by the couch. She rummages for a moment, then pulls out a small black case, her cheeks flushing as she returns to Mara. She opens it, revealing a sleek, curved toy, dark purple and smooth, clearly designed for pleasure. Mara’s breath catches, not because she’s surprised , though she is, a little , but because the thought of Lena planning this, packing this, makes her ache in a way she didn’t expect.
“You’re full of surprises,” Mara says, her voice teasing but warm, and Lena laughs, the sound easing the tension.
“Thought it might be fun,” Lena says, setting the toy aside for now, her hands returning to Mara’s jeans, tugging them down along with her underwear. Mara kicks them off, fully bare now, and Lena’s eyes darken, her gaze sweeping over Mara’s body like she’s memorizing it. Lena sheds her own jeans, leaving her in plain black panties, and Mara reaches for her, pulling her back down, needing the weight of her, the closeness.
Lena kisses her way down Mara’s body, slow and deliberate, her lips brushing the curve of her hip, the inside of her thigh. Mara’s trembling now, her hands fisting in the rug, and when Lena’s mouth finally finds her, it’s like a spark igniting. Lena’s tongue is warm, sure, moving with a rhythm that makes Mara’s hips lift, chasing the sensation. It’s cunnilingus, yes, but it’s more than that , it’s Lena, knowing her, reading her, giving her exactly what she needs. Mara’s moans fill the room, mingling with the crackle of the fire, and Lena’s hands grip her thighs, holding her steady.
Then Lena shifts, her tongue tracing lower, unexpected, and Mara gasps, her body tensing for a moment before melting into it. Rimming is new, uncharted, and the intimacy of it , Lena’s confidence, her care , undoes Mara completely. She’s lost in it, in the heat, the trust, the way Lena’s making her feel seen and wanted in a way she’s never been before.
Lena pulls back slightly, her breath hot against Mara’s skin, and reaches for the toy. She clicks it on, a low hum filling the air, and Mara’s eyes flutter open, meeting Lena’s. There’s a question in Lena’s gaze, and Mara nods, her voice gone, her body screaming for more. Lena smiles, and then the toy is there, pressing against Mara, vibrating just right, and Mara’s world narrows to this , this moment, this feeling, this woman.
The toy hums against Mara, a steady pulse that sends waves of heat through her core, and Lena’s eyes never leave hers, dark and intent, like she’s anchoring Mara through the storm building inside her. Mara’s hips move instinctively, rocking against the vibration, her breath coming in sharp gasps. Lena’s other hand is on Mara’s thigh, fingers digging in just enough to ground her, and the contrast , the soft buzz of the toy, the firm pressure of Lena’s touch , makes Mara’s head spin. She’s close, so close, but it’s not just the physical sensation driving her to the edge. It’s Lena. It’s the way she’s looking at Mara, like she’s the only thing that matters, like this moment is everything.
“Lena,” Mara says, her voice raw, breaking on the syllables, and Lena leans forward, kissing her hard, swallowing the sound. The toy presses deeper, the angle shifting, and Mara’s moan is muffled against Lena’s lips, her body arching off the rug. Lena’s tongue moves with the kiss, mirroring the rhythm of the toy, and it’s too much, too perfect. Mara’s hands clutch at Lena’s shoulders, nails biting into skin, and she feels Lena shudder, hears the low hum of her own pleasure in response.
Lena pulls back from the kiss, her lips glistening, and slides down Mara’s body again, her mouth finding Mara’s clit once more. The toy stays in place, vibrating relentlessly, while Lena’s tongue flicks and circles, teasing and relentless. Mara’s thighs tremble, her breath hitching, and she’s saying things now , half-words, pleas, Lena’s name over and over, like a mantra. The firelight dances across Lena’s hair, her bare shoulders, and Mara wants to hold onto this image forever, the way Lena looks right now, fierce and tender, giving and taking all at once.
The pressure builds, a tight coil in Mara’s belly, and she knows she’s not going to last much longer. Lena seems to sense it too, her movements growing more deliberate, the toy angled just right, her tongue unrelenting. Mara’s hands twist in the rug, her head tipping back, and then it hits , a white-hot rush that crashes through her, stealing her breath, her thoughts, everything. She cries out, loud and unashamed, her body shaking as the orgasm rips through her, wave after wave, leaving her boneless, gasping.
Lena doesn’t stop, not right away, easing her through it with softer licks, the toy’s hum dialed back to a gentle buzz. Mara’s hands find Lena’s hair, tugging gently, and Lena looks up, her lips slick, her eyes bright with something like triumph. She crawls up Mara’s body, kissing her way back, lingering at the curve of her stomach, the valley between her breasts, until they’re face-to-face again. Lena kisses her, slow and deep, and Mara tastes herself on Lena’s tongue, the intimacy of it sending a fresh spark through her despite the aftershocks still trembling in her limbs.
“Your turn,” Mara whispers against Lena’s mouth, her voice hoarse but determined. Lena laughs, a soft, shaky sound, and Mara feels the vibration of it against her chest. She pushes herself up, guiding Lena onto her back, and for a moment, she just looks at her , Lena, flushed and open, her panties still on, a damp spot visible against the black fabric. Mara’s heart clenches, a mix of want and something deeper, something she’s not ready to name.
Mara hooks her fingers into Lena’s panties, pulling them down slowly, savoring the reveal of Lena’s skin, the dark curls, the way her thighs part slightly, inviting. She kisses Lena’s inner thigh, soft and teasing, then higher, her lips brushing the sensitive skin just above Lena’s clit. Lena’s breath catches, her hips lifting, and Mara smiles against her, taking her time. She wants this to be good, wants Lena to feel what she felt, to know what it’s like to be undone.
Her tongue traces Lena’s folds, slow at first, exploring, tasting. Lena’s sweet and sharp, and Mara hums, the sound drawing a moan from Lena’s throat. She moves to Lena’s clit, circling it with her tongue, finding a rhythm that makes Lena’s hands fist in her hair, her breaths coming faster. Mara’s fingers join in, slipping inside Lena, curling just right, and Lena’s moan turns into a gasp, her body tightening around Mara’s touch.
“Fuck, Mara,” Lena says, her voice breaking, and Mara loves the sound of it, loves the way Lena’s losing control, the way her hips are moving now, chasing Mara’s mouth, her fingers. Mara shifts lower, her tongue tracing a bold path to Lena’s rim, teasing the sensitive skin there, and Lena’s reaction is immediate , a sharp intake of breath, a shudder that Mara feels against her lips. She lingers, gentle but sure, and Lena’s moans grow louder, more desperate.
Mara reaches for the toy, still slick from earlier, and clicks it on, pressing it against Lena’s clit while her fingers move inside her, her tongue still teasing lower. The combination is electric , Lena’s body tenses, her thighs trembling, and Mara can feel her getting closer, the way her muscles clench, the way her moans turn into something almost primal. Mara keeps the rhythm steady, her own arousal flaring again at the sight of Lena like this, open and raw and hers.
Lena comes with a cry, her body arching, her hands pulling Mara’s hair hard enough to sting. Mara stays with her, easing the toy’s pressure but keeping her fingers moving, drawing out every shudder, every gasp, until Lena’s body goes limp, her chest heaving. Mara kisses her way back up, soft and slow, until she’s lying beside Lena, their bodies pressed close, sweat-slick and warm.
They lie there for a long time, the fire dying down to embers, the wind outside a distant howl. Lena’s head rests on Mara’s shoulder, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on Mara’s arm. Mara’s heart is still racing, but it’s not just from the sex , it’s from the weight of what just happened, the line they’ve crossed, the truth of it settling into her bones.
“You okay?” Lena asks, her voice quiet, almost hesitant, and Mara turns her head, meeting Lena’s eyes. They’re softer now, vulnerable, and Mara feels a pang, like she’s seeing Lena for the first time.
“Yeah,” Mara says, and she means it. “You?”
Lena nods, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah.”
They don’t say anything else, don’t need to. The cabin feels different now, the silence no longer heavy but warm, like a blanket. Mara knows things will be complicated when they leave, that they’ll have to talk about what this means, what they are now. But for tonight, it’s enough to be here, to feel Lena’s breath against her skin, to know they’ve found something real, even if it’s just for this moment.
The fire pops one last time, a final spark flaring and fading, and Mara closes her eyes, letting the quiet take her.