Archive of Our Own ^beta

Ariana Grande was hosting an intimate gathering at her home, inviting close friends, family, and fellow Wicked cast members for a cozy movie marathon featuring all the top contenders for the 2025 Oscars. The air buzzed with excitement, a mix of industry chatter and genuine anticipation as everyone settled in for a night of cinematic brilliance.

Frankie, Ariana’s ever-animated brother, was holding court in the kitchen, spinning a wildly dramatic tale to an amused group of listeners - completely forgetting his mission to bring over the vegan snacks. Ariana was glad he was there because him being there allowed her to shift her hostess duties onto him. He could keep people entertained while she relaxed.

Which is what she needed amidst the never-ending Wicked promotional tour.

Five hours into the marathon, the energy in the room was unfocused. Conversations had become livelier, drinks had been refilled multiple times, and only a handful of people were still fully invested in the films. Ariana and Ethan were curled up together at one end of the couch, lost in the on-screen drama, while Cynthia and Lena mirrored them at the other end, not as engrossed but still present. Bronwyn James sat nearby, watching intently, seemingly unfazed by the social chaos unfolding around her. Her sporadic commentary made the other movie viewers crack up on multiple occasions.

Cynthia and Lena kept leaning into each other and whispering together. It was quite distracting. Out of all of the conversations going on around her, Ariana wondered the most about what they were talking about.

When Lena excused herself to "take a leak" and Ethan wandered off in search of snacks - only to get sidetracked by her brother’s theatrics - Ariana seized the opportunity. Without hesitation, she scooted over to Cynthia’s side, seamlessly claiming her as her new cuddle buddy. With a sly smile, she pulled the blanket she’d been wrapped in over both of them, swaddling them in warmth as she settled in close.

“You’re too far away,” Ariana whispered to explain her sudden proximity.

Cynthia, of course, seemed not to need an explanation. She readily welcomed her by opening her body towards her and putting her arm around Ariana’s waist as Ariana laid her head on her shoulder.

Ariana felt the soft press of a kiss against her forehead and couldn’t help but giggle.

During their time in the Wicked filming bubble, this kind of closeness had become second nature - an unspoken language of comfort and affection. It had never struck Ariana as anything unusual. But once promotions began, the outside world’s reactions to their easy intimacy made her pause. People noticed. People speculated. And for the first time, she wondered if maybe they did exist in a space that teetered just past the boundary of friendship.

At first, she feared the scrutiny might make Cynthia pull away, especially since she was in a committed relationship. But Cynthia remained unchanged - steadfast in her warmth, her touch, her presence. So Ariana took her cue from her, refusing to let anything shift between them. If Cynthia wasn’t going to put distance between them, neither was she.

These days, Ariana found herself savoring the small, secret thrill that came with being around Cynthia. It was that intoxicating, electric feeling - like having a crush and knowing, without a doubt, that the feelings were mutual, yet not quite knowing where the invisible line between them was drawn. How far was too far?

The uncertainty made it all the more exhilarating.

Ariana slid her arm around Cynthia’s torso, letting herself sink into the warmth of their shared space as she turned her attention back to the movie, or at least pretended to.

When Lena returned from the bathroom, Ariana feigned deep concentration, eyes locked on the screen as if she hadn’t even noticed her reappearance. Cynthia, ever considerate, instinctively shifted to make room for Lena to reclaim her spot between herself and the arm of the couch. But Lena only shook her head and instead made her way to the opposite end of the sofa without a word.

Eventually, Ethan wandered back over, reclaiming his seat beside Ariana with a plate of crackers and cheese in hand.

Ethan gave Ariana a small tap on the hip, a silent acknowledgment of his return. She met him with a soft smile, letting him know she was aware of him - but she made no move to shift away from Cynthia. Instead, she remained nestled comfortably against her, content in the warmth they shared.

Noting her choice, Ethan simply shrugged and settled back into his seat, turning his attention to the movie without another word.

By the time the next movie started, Ariana wasn’t paying attention at all. She was pinching the fabric of Cynthia’s shirt between her fingers and enjoying the soft feel of it. “Where’d you get this shirt from?” she whispered, her voice low and lazy as she propped her chin on Cynthia’s shoulder.

Cynthia looked down to see what she was wearing. It was something she just grabbed from the master closet. The shirt was soft and well-worn, an oversized button-down in a deep, inky blue. The fabric had that lived-in feel, the kind that hinted at countless washes and effortless comfort. “I don’t know,” she said with a laugh. “You’d have to ask Lena. I think this one is hers.”

Ariana’s fingers stilled against the fabric. Slowly, she rested her head back on Cynthia’s shoulder, her gaze flickering toward the collar of the shirt - Lena’s shirt. A tangible reminder that no matter how easily she and Cynthia fell into this quiet, unspoken dance of flirtation, Cynthia ultimately belonged to someone else.

A small pang of jealousy flared in her chest, sharp yet oddly satisfying. She let herself savor it.

"You two are so married," she muttered under her breath, barely audible.

"Hmm?" Cynthia hummed, tilting her head slightly. "What was that?"

Ariana hesitated for only a second before repeating herself, this time just loud enough for Cynthia to hear - but no one else.

"You two are so married."

Cynthia didn’t respond. Ariana guessed that was fair. It wasn’t really a statement that warranted a response.

When Bronwyn grumbled about a glare on the screen, Ariana was quick to suggest drawing the blackout curtains to shut out the afternoon sunlight. Of course, she had no intention of moving from her cozy spot against Cynthia, so she casually delegated the task to Frankie.

As he pulled the heavy drapes closed, the room was plunged into a moody dimness, the only illumination coming from the soft glow of the wall sconces and the flickering light of the television screen. Shadows stretched across the walls, wrapping the space in something quieter, more intimate.

Ariana sank deeper into Cynthia’s warmth, and with the new darkness as her cover, a quiet thrill stirred in her chest. She suddenly felt bold.

Ariana let her index finger drift along the inside of Cynthia’s forearm - the one resting in her lap - tracing slow, featherlight patterns against her skin.

Maybe it was the thought of Cynthia wearing Lena’s shirt that spurred her on, a quiet reminder of the line between them. Maybe it was pure curiosity, a need to test the boundaries of whatever this was. Or maybe - just maybe - she had completely lost her mind.

But as the darkness cloaked them in secrecy, a reckless thought took hold. She suddenly wanted to know just how far outside the realm of friendship Cynthia would allow her to go.

Ariana kept tracing slow, lazy patterns along Cynthia’s bare forearm, her touch barely there yet entirely intentional. She wondered what was running through Cynthia’s mind - if she had even the slightest suspicion about the quiet game Ariana was playing, the lines she was testing.

Probably not.

This kind of touch had always existed between them, casual yet intimate, toeing the edge of something unspoken. Even now, as if on instinct, Cynthia’s thumb was brushing soft, absentminded circles against Ariana’s waist, holding her close without a second thought.

That wouldn’t do…

Ariana let her touch wander, slipping her hand from Cynthia’s arm to rest lightly against her torso. For a moment, she simply let it linger there, testing the weight of her own boldness. Then, with deliberate ease, she began tracing slow, idle circles with her fingers against the fabric of Lena’s borrowed shirt.

"With all the piercings you have, I can’t believe you don’t have a belly button ring," she murmured, her voice a study in practiced casual - soft, teasing, but laced with just enough curiosity to keep things interesting.

“Hmm…Should I get one?” Cynthia asked.

“Let’s get one together,” Ariana whispered.

“Okay,” Cynthia responded with no hesitation.

Ariana turned to look at her, a light laugh leaving her lips. “You always agree so easily. Is there anything you’d actually say no to?”

“Not if you’re the one asking.”

Ariana’s stomach flipped, heat curling low in her belly at the effortless sincerity of the response. If she’d been considering reining in her reckless impulses, that thought vanished in an instant.

‘Let’s see how true that is,’ she mused, a slow smirk playing at her lips.

Ariana let her head fall back onto Cynthia’s shoulder, her body sinking further into the warmth between them. Moving with the kind of casual ease that masked her true intent, she let her hand drift lower, fingertips slipping beneath the hem of Cynthia’s borrowed shirt. The fabric lifted easily, giving way to warm, bare skin. Ariana traced soft, lazy patterns along Cynthia’s stomach, her touch featherlight as she circled the dip of her belly button. Beneath her fingers, she could feel the subtle tension in Cynthia’s muscles, the way her breath grew shallow, almost hesitant—like she wasn’t sure whether to inhale or stay perfectly still. The realization sent a quiet thrill through Ariana, her lips curving into the faintest, knowing smile.

Ariana's fingers continued their slow, deliberate exploration, tracing the smooth plane of Cynthia’s stomach before wandering higher. Her touch remained featherlight, skimming over the dip of her ribs, trailing up the center of her sternum with aching patience. But just as she dared to go further, Cynthia’s hand shot up, catching her wrist in a firm yet gentle grip, halting her movements. Ariana barely had a second to process before Cynthia leaned in, her breath warm against Ariana’s ear as she whispered with a low, amused chuckle, “I’m not wearing a bra . ”

Ariana bit back a smile, resisting the urge to tell Cynthia that she preferred it that way. But that would be too easy - too direct. And right now, she wanted to keep the tease alive, to keep Cynthia just a little on edge, lingering in that space of anticipation.

With deliberate ease, she let her hand slide back down, fingers ghosting over Cynthia’s belly button before slipping out from beneath the fabric entirely. She rested her palm lightly atop the shirt once more, as if nothing had ever happened.

A perfect, good little friend.

She felt the shift almost instantly - the way the tension in Cynthia’s body melted away, her muscles uncoiling as she settled back into comfort. Ariana smirked to herself but said nothing, simply letting the moment pass as they both turned their attention back to the movie.

Nearly half an hour passed before Ariana made another move, biding her time, letting the moment settle - lulling Cynthia into comfort once more. Then, with the same unhurried ease as before, she slipped her hand beneath Cynthia’s shirt again, her fingertips brushing just above the waistband of Cynthia’s pants.

The fabric was soft, a pair of well-worn sweatpants that hung low on Cynthia’s hips, the kind meant for pure comfort. Ariana let her finger trace along the elastic band, featherlight, teasing, lingering at the edge as if testing the boundary - seeing if Cynthia would stop her again.

Nothing.

No movement from Cynthia. There was a slight inhale but no protest - just the steady rise and fall of her deep breathing.

Taking that as silent permission, Ariana let her index finger dip just beneath the waistband, skimming the delicate skin beneath. Her touch was slow, deliberate, a whisper of sensation against the warmth of Cynthia’s body.

Ariana hooked her finger just beneath the waistband, giving it the slightest, teasing tug as if contemplating something more. She felt the fabric stretch under her touch, the tension of the moment thick between them. But instead of pushing further, she let go just as easily, letting the elastic snap softly back into place.

That’s when she heard it - a quiet inhale from Cynthia, barely audible, but unmistakable. Ariana smirked to herself, reveling in the fact that she had caught Cynthia off guard. Instead of doing the expected, she let her finger travel back up, tracing an agonizingly slow path up Cynthia’s stomach, barely skimming over her skin. She knew Cynthia was waiting, wondering what she’d do next. And Ariana intended to keep her guessing for as long as she pleased.

Ariana resumed her slow exploration, tracing the subtle contours of Cynthia’s stomach with the lightest touch, following the gentle ridges of muscle beneath warm skin. Each deliberate stroke sent a thrill through her, a quiet power in knowing just how much she was affecting Cynthia - without either of them having to say a word.

But it wasn’t just Cynthia who was unraveling.

Ariana could feel the heat building low in her own body, a slow, pulsing ache ignited by the teasing, the anticipation - the sheer audacity of her own actions. This was her game, her pace, and yet, she was falling victim to it just as much as Cynthia was.

Savoring the slow, simmering heat pooling between her thighs, Ariana flattened her palm against Cynthia’s stomach, fingers splayed possessively as she wrapped her hand around her waist. Then, ever so slowly, she let her touch wander - trailing higher, higher, higher - until her fingertips rested just beneath the swell of Cynthia’s bare breast.

She held her breath, waiting.

Would Cynthia stop her?

The silence stretched, heavy with unspoken tension. And when Cynthia didn’t stop her, Ariana’s pulse kicked up, her fingers twitching in anticipation.

Encouraged, she moved - just a centimeter more…

"What are you doing?"

Cynthia’s voice cut through the moment like a blade.

Then came her touch - firm, deliberate. She took Ariana’s wrist, removing her hand from beneath her shirt with an ease that left no room for argument. But instead of letting go, Cynthia laced their fingers together, keeping Ariana’s hand captive in her own.

"Be good," Cynthia murmured, a quiet warning wrapped in amusement.

Ariana’s stomach twisted - not just with frustration, but with embarrassment. She had been so close but then rejected.

Jaw tightening, she let out a small, discontented huff before abruptly pushing herself up from the couch. Without a word, she strode toward the bathroom.

She was upset, and she wanted Cynthia to know she was upset.

The bathroom was spacious, sleek, and modern - marble countertops, dim vanity lighting, and the faint scent of Ariana’s expensive candles lingering in the air. She perched on the cool counter, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, legs swinging impatiently as she waited.

And waited.

And waited.

But Cynthia didn’t come.

The quiet frustration simmering beneath Ariana’s skin began to harden into something sharper, something closer to anger. Not the explosive kind - no, this was the slow-burning kind, the kind that curled in her stomach and made her jaw clench. She had stormed off expecting Cynthia to follow, to chase after her, to acknowledge the tension crackling between them.

But Cynthia hadn’t.

And that only made Ariana want to push harder.

When Ariana returned to the living room, a sharp twist coiled in her stomach.

Lena had reclaimed her spot at the end of the couch beside Cynthia - only now, Cynthia was leaning back against Lena’s chest, completely at ease, Lena’s arm draped over her shoulder in a lazy, familiar hold. One of Cynthia’s legs stretched out along the cushions, the other foot planted on the floor. She looked comfortable . She looked unbothered .

Ariana’s anger flared, hot and immediate.

Ethan, noticing her arrival, waved her over, nodding toward the space beside him. He was seated where he had been before, clearly expecting Ariana to settle back into her original place as well.

Her jaw clenched as she crossed the room, each step fueled by simmering irritation. As she passed Cynthia, she snatched the blanket from her legs without so much as a glance, a silent but pointed declaration. Then, without hesitation, she sank into Ethan’s side, tucking herself against him in a way that was deliberately cozy .

Fine. If this was how Cynthia wanted it …

Ariana turned toward Ethan with a slow, deliberate movement, her fingers curling under his jaw as she guided his face to hers. Then, without hesitation, she pressed a deep, lingering kiss to his lips - one that was far more for an audience than for the man receiving it.

When she pulled away, she refused to glance in Cynthia’s direction. She didn’t need to . She could feel Cynthia’s eyes on her, the weight of her gaze heavy, burning. And if that was just in her head? If Cynthia wasn’t watching at all? Well… she wasn’t about to risk confirming that.

Instead, Ariana adjusted the blanket, wrapping it snugly around both herself and Ethan. With a quiet sigh, she sank into his side, eyes trained on the movie screen, pretending to be invested. But her mind was elsewhere - caught in the tension she had just created, the silent game she had just escalated.

Ariana was still lost in her thoughts when she felt a light tap against her hip.

Her breath hitched, but she schooled her expression before turning to look.

Cynthia.

She was nudging Ariana with her foot - casual, subtle, but unmistakably intentional.

Ariana met her gaze for only a fleeting second before turning away just as quickly, settling her head against Ethan’s shoulder in a pointed display of indifference. She wasn’t going to give Cynthia the satisfaction of a response.

But despite her best efforts, a thrill of excitement flickered in her chest, sharp and electric. It was nice having Cynthia’s attention again.

Cynthia nudged her a few more times before she accepted the fact that Ariana wasn’t going to respond.

Ariana thought Cynthia was just going to give up. But, eventually, Cynthia sat up and tapped Ariana’s shoulder. Ariana couldn’t just ignore her when she was being so obvious about trying to get her attention; she turned to look at her. “What?” she whispered.

“Let’s talk,” Cynthia whispered back.

“Here?” Ariana asked.

“Yeah,” Cynthia said with a shrug.

Ariana glanced over Cynthia’s shoulder and saw that Lena seemed to be asleep. ‘ Oh, NOW she wants to talk since her wife is asleep ,’ Ariana thought.

Still, despite her petty inner commentary, she sat up and moved toward Cynthia, tugging the blanket along with her. Ethan settled back into the couch to watch the movies on his own again while Cynthia adjusted to make room for Ariana snuggling back up to her side.

Cynthia’s arm slid around her waist, pulling her in. Ariana let herself be drawn close, wrapping her own arms around Cynthia’s torso in return, their bodies pressing together like second nature.

When they were fully nestled against each other, Ariana asked again… “What?”

She made sure to sound curt. She didn’t want to seem easy or anything.

“Are you upset with me?” Cynthia's voice was soft, a whisper meant just for Ariana - careful, cautious.

Ariana blinked up at her, a picture of practiced innocence. “Why would I be upset with you?” she whispered back, feigning ignorance.

“Because of earlier.”

“What happened earlier?” Ariana asked, her voice lilting with faux innocence. She wanted to hear Cynthia say it - to put it into words, to admit that something had happened between them.

But Cynthia didn’t take the bait. Instead, she tilted her head, eyes glinting with quiet amusement. “You tell me ,” she volleyed back smoothly.

Ariana held her gaze for a beat, then huffed, pouting as she turned her attention back to the screen. If Cynthia wasn’t going to say it, then neither was she.

Stubborn silence settled between them. 

 They just weren’t going to talk about it then.

“Excuse me,” Cynthia whispered after a few moments. She gently nudged Ariana to sit up so that she could slide off of the couch, and then she disappeared from the room.

Ariana looked after her curiously.

Where was she going?

If Cynthia thought Ariana was going to chase after her, she was sorely mistaken. This was payback for leaving her waiting earlier.

Ariana turned back to the screen with a mulish expression.

But as the minutes ticked by - five…ten…fifteen - her resolve started to waver. She found herself stealing glances toward the doorway, craning her neck slightly. ‘ Where the fuck is she?’

The longer Cynthia was gone, the more Ariana's patience frayed. ‘Is she really waiting for me?’

She rolled her eyes, exhaling sharply, and was just about to stand when Cynthia finally emerged again.

Without so much as an explanation, Cynthia eased back into her seat beside Ariana like she’d never been gone at all.

Ariana was a little curious, but she decided maybe she shouldn’t be. Maybe the other woman had a quick phone call to make or something.

Cynthia pulled Ariana close to her side again. Ariana pulled her feet up onto the couch cushions, and she allowed her knees to tilt into Cynthia’s lap. She would never get tired of being this close to the other woman. It felt so natural…like she was always meant to be here.

With quiet care, she draped the blanket back over them, enclosing them in their own little world - a world where nothing else mattered but the warmth of Cynthia’s body against hers.

She wondered if she should try to make a move one more time.

She hesitated.

Being rejected a third time would be very humiliating.

But it seemed Cynthia took the decision out of her hands.

She felt Cynthia’s fingers teasing the hem of her shirt, a light, deliberate touch that sent a shiver down her spine. And then, slowly, Cynthia pushed the fabric up, letting her fingertips trace warm, featherlight patterns against Ariana’s bare skin.

That’s when Ariana noticed something different - there was no faint scratch of nails this time, only the smooth glide of Cynthia’s fingertips.

Her breath caught. She cut them…

Ariana’s stomach flipped as realization set in. Cynthia had taken the time, in those fifteen minutes away, to remove her nails.

And there was only one reason she could think of for why she’d do that.

Ariana couldn’t help it - her body reacted before her mind could catch up. A slow, electric anticipation coursed through her, and her legs parted instinctively, as if inviting Cynthia to take things even further.

But Cynthia didn’t take the invitation.

Her fingers continued their slow, teasing patterns against Ariana’s skin, light and unhurried, but she made no move to take things further.

Ariana turned her head, searching Cynthia’s face for any sign of intent—any hint that she was feeling the same simmering tension between them. But Cynthia’s gaze remained fixed on the television, her expression unreadable.

Had Ariana jumped to conclusions? Had she completely misread the situation? The thought sent a sharp pang of uncertainty through her.

Frustrated with the game - impatient with Cynthia’s restraint - Ariana made her move.

She turned toward Cynthia, her breath steady but her pulse racing, and slipped her fingers beneath the waistband of Cynthia’s pants without a moment of hesitation.

Her eyes flicked up, locking onto Cynthia’s as she whispered, low and daring, “Stop me anytime you want.”

Ariana’s hand slipped deeper into Cynthia’s pants, seeking out the warmth between her thighs. The heat of her, even through the thin barrier of her panties, sent a shiver down Ariana’s spine.

She stilled.

The line had been crossed.

Her eyes stayed locked onto Cynthia’s, searching, waiting - for resistance, for hesitation, for anything that might make her pull away.

Cynthia’s grip on her waist tightened, fingers digging in, muscles taut with tension. For a moment, Ariana thought she might pull back. But then, as if surrendering to the gravity between them, Cynthia exhaled - a slow, unsteady sigh. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she leaned forward, pressing her forehead against Ariana’s.

Ariana’s heart pounded against her ribs.

Her lips barely moved as she whispered, “Do you want me to?”

A beat of silence.

Then, a small nod.

A surge of excitement shot through Ariana, and for a split second, she nearly closed the space between them, her lips aching to press against Cynthia’s full, inviting mouth. But just as quickly, reality set in - Ethan was right behind her.

The weight of his presence yanked her back to restraint.

Instead, she exhaled shakily, grounding herself in the moment.

She slowly began to drag her fingers up and down Cynthia’s slit, applying just enough gentle pressure to make her shiver. Hidden beneath the blanket and the fabric of Cynthia’s pants, her movements were careful, calculated - nothing more than a subtle flex of her wrist, barely perceptible to anyone who might glance their way.

The room had thinned out, most guests having drifted elsewhere, but a handful of people remained, their eyes fixed on the screen. Ethan was still beside her, completely unaware. Lena, at least, was still fast asleep, which meant one less person to worry about.

Ariana’s pulse quickened as she felt Cynthia’s thighs part just a little more, inviting her in.

Ariana rested her head on Cynthia’s shoulder, angling herself just right so that, to anyone looking, she appeared completely at ease - just another cozy moment between close friends. But beneath the blanket, her fingers were anything but innocent.

She let them wander higher, teasing along the damp heat before circling deliberately over the sensitive bundle of nerves. A barely audible gasp escaped Cynthia’s lips, and Ariana smirked against her shoulder. Found it.

She kept her movements slow and intentional, teasing just enough to make Cynthia shift beneath her touch. She wasn’t rushing - no, she wanted to build her up, to make her desperate for more before she even considered giving it.

"You like it?" Ariana whispered, her voice laced with quiet satisfaction. After everything Cynthia had put her through to get to this moment, the least she could do was give her some verbal acknowledgment.

She kept her fingers moving, slow and deliberate, pressing just enough to keep Cynthia on edge. She wanted to hear it, to have Cynthia give in, to make her admit just how good it felt.

"Yeah," Cynthia whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of the movie. Her fingers tightened around Ariana’s waist, a silent plea for more - a wordless confession of just how much she wanted this.

Ariana’s smile deepened as she picked up the pace, rubbing Cynthia’s pussy with deliberate intent. She adjusted her rhythm in response to every twitch, every subtle gasp, every shift of Cynthia’s hips. Soon, her hand moved with relentless purpose, and Cynthia’s breathing turned into short, uneven huffs.

Ariana’s own arousal pulsed between her thighs, fueled by the intoxicating way Cynthia responded to her touch. The way she subtly rocked into her hand, seeking more. The way she clutched at Ariana’s waist, fingers pressing into her skin.

When Ariana felt the damp heat seeping through Cynthia’s panties, she couldn’t resist any longer. With slow, aching precision, she slipped her fingers beneath the soaked fabric, shivering at the bare, slick warmth that greeted her touch.

Cynthia’s head fell back against the couch, her body arching instinctively into Ariana’s touch.

“Yes,” she breathed, voice barely audible.

She threw an arm over her eyes, as if shielding herself from the weight of her own surrender. Ariana’s gaze flickered over her shoulder, heart pounding as she checked on Ethan. His attention remained glued to the television, oblivious. Relief rushed through her, but it was quickly overtaken by the thrill of secrecy.

Turning back to Cynthia, Ariana let her fingers slip between her folds, easing inside with a slow, deliberate glide. The heat of her, the way her walls clenched instinctively around her fingers, sent a shiver down Ariana’s spine. She watched as Cynthia bit down on her lip, barely restraining the sounds threatening to spill free. Ariana smirked. She wanted to push Cynthia to the edge, to see how much restraint she really had.

Ariana set a steady rhythm, her fingers plunging deep before curling just right - enough to have Cynthia subtly rolling her hips, silently asking for more. The movement was so slight, so controlled, but Ariana felt every bit of the desperation behind it. She pressed her lips together to stifle a triumphant smile, savoring the way Cynthia’s body responded to her touch. Beneath the blanket, hidden from prying eyes, Ariana picked up her pace, each deliberate motion pulling another shudder from the woman beside her.

If Ariana listened closely, she could hear the slick, rhythmic sound of her fingers plunging into Cynthia’s heat. It was a sinful little secret beneath the blanket, a quiet symphony of pleasure only they were privy to. When Cynthia’s body tensed, her thighs trembling ever so slightly, Ariana knew she was teetering on the edge. And just when she was about to fall - Ariana pulled out.

Cynthia’s breath hitched, her entire body jolting at the sudden loss. Before she could protest, Ariana's fingers found her clit, circling it with deliberate, teasing precision. Cynthia’s hand flew to her mouth, stifling a gasp, her chest rising and falling in short, erratic breaths. The shift in sensation had her hips twitching, seeking more, chasing the high Ariana was expertly drawing out.

Ariana pressed harder, her fingers working in quick, fluid strokes over Cynthia’s clit, the slickness making every motion seamless. She kept her touch firm, relentless, drawing Cynthia higher and higher with every pass.

Cynthia’s breath turned shallow, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Her fingers wrapped around Ariana’s wrist, not to stop her, but to anchor herself, to ground her against the pleasure that was fast overtaking her. Ariana could feel the tension coiling tighter in Cynthia’s body, the telltale signs of release hovering just out of reach. She smirked against Cynthia’s shoulder, determined to push her past the edge.

Ariana plunged her fingers deep once more, curling them just right while keeping the firm pressure of her palm against Cynthia’s throbbing clit. She could feel Cynthia’s body trembling, every muscle coiled tight, desperate for release.

‘ Come for me ,’ she willed, silently pleading as she worked her fingers in a steady rhythm, pushing her over the edge. ‘ Come .’

And then, Cynthia shattered. A rush of warmth coated Ariana’s fingers as Cynthia’s body pulsed around them, her muffled gasps escaping in quick, broken exhales. Her thighs clenched, her grip on Ariana’s wrist tightening before going slack as the waves of her orgasm rolled through her.

“Fuck,” Cynthia whispered, her voice barely audible beneath the sounds of the movie.

A deep, sultry satisfaction curled through Ariana’s body as she slowly withdrew her hand from Cynthia’s pants, feeling the slick heat still coating her fingers. She loved this power - the ability to unravel Cynthia, to bring her to the edge and watch her fall apart in her hands. It made her feel unstoppable.

Without hesitation, she brought her fingers to her lips, parting them just enough to slide them into her mouth. The taste of Cynthia spread across her tongue - warm, musky, and just the slightest bit sweet, like something forbidden and intoxicating. She hummed softly, savoring it as her gaze flickered to Cynthia’s face, drinking in the way her chest still rose and fell in uneven breaths.

“Ari!”

Ariana jolted at the sudden whisper of her name, her heart leaping into her throat. She turned quickly to see Ethan watching her, his expression unreadable. Had he noticed something? Had she and Cynthia been more obvious than she thought?

“Come over here,” Ethan murmured, holding out his arm in an open invitation for her to slip back to his side.

Ariana hesitated. She didn’t want to leave Cynthia - not when the warmth of her body still lingered against her skin, not when the air between them was still thick with unspoken tension.

“Just a minute,” she replied, keeping her voice soft and steady. “I need to talk to Cynthia about something.”

Ethan slumped back against the couch, clearly disappointed, but thankfully unaware that anything was amiss. His attention soon drifted back to the movie, allowing Ariana to turn her focus back to Cynthia.

She leaned in, her lips just inches from Cynthia’s ear as she whispered, “You’re not going to leave me hanging, are you?” Her voice was low, teasing, but beneath it was a hint of genuine need.

A bit recovered from her orgasm, Cynthia turned to Ariana with a small, knowing smile. Without another word, she reached over, slipping her hand beneath the waistband of Ariana’s pants with practiced ease.

“Of course not,” she murmured, her voice smooth and full of promise.

Ariana’s breath hitched as Cynthia’s fingers found her heat, expertly teasing her with slow, deliberate strokes. She kept her body angled away from Ethan, doing her best to mask the shiver that ran through her as Cynthia worked her over, her touch both gentle and relentless.

Ariana’s fingers curled into the fabric of Cynthia’s - well, technically, Lena’s - shirt, gripping it tightly as waves of pleasure built inside her. Cynthia’s touch was unrelenting, precise, and devastatingly effective, sending Ariana hurtling toward the edge with dizzying speed.

Her grip shifted to Cynthia’s arm, feeling the muscles of her forearm flex as she brought Ariana pleasure. The sensation sent a shudder through Ariana’s body, pushing her over the edge. She bit her lip hard, stifling a moan as pleasure crashed over her in waves, her body trembling in Cynthia’s grasp.

Cynthia withdrew her hand with a slow, deliberate touch, then casually wiped the evidence of Ariana’s release on the blanket. Before Ariana could fully catch her breath, Cynthia leaned in, her warm breath ghosting over Ariana’s ear as she whispered, “Come with me.” Then, without another word, she rose from the couch.

Ariana’s pulse spiked. She didn’t hesitate. She couldn’t. With legs still unsteady from pleasure, she quickly followed, drawn to Cynthia like a magnet, anticipation thrumming in her veins.

As she trailed behind Cynthia, it suddenly hit her - this was her home. She should be the one leading them somewhere private. Without missing a beat, she quickened her pace, reaching for Cynthia’s hand and intertwining their fingers. With a tug, she took the lead, her voice low and charged with intent.

“This way,” she murmured, guiding Cynthia through the dimly lit halls, her heart pounding in anticipation of what was to come.

She led Cynthia to her home studio, a space that felt more like a sanctuary than just another room. The walls were lined with sleek soundproofing panels, and a grand piano sat in one corner, its glossy surface reflecting the soft glow of the LED strip lights that traced the ceiling. Shelves stacked with notebooks, lyric sheets, and awards lined the opposite wall, a testament to the countless hours Ariana had poured into her craft.

A glass-paneled recording booth stood against the far wall, equipped with a high-end condenser microphone and adjustable lighting, ready to capture the perfect vocal take. Outside the booth, a sleek mixing console dominated a portion of the room, complete with state-of-the-art monitors and an array of equipment for layering sound with precision. This was where she perfected her music, where every note and harmony was meticulously crafted.

As they stepped inside, she realized a small group of people had wandered in at some point during the party. Annoyance flickered across her face. With a firm but playful roll of her eyes, she shooed them out. “Go find somewhere else to loiter,” she teased, crossing her arms until they reluctantly filed past her.

Once the room was theirs, she shut the door behind them with a quiet click, the sound sealing them off from the rest of the world. The energy between them was charged, the air thick with unspoken intent.

Or so she thought.

Ariana stepped forward, placing her hands at Cynthia’s waist, fingers curling slightly against the fabric of her - well…Lena’s - shirt. She tilted her head, ready to finally close the space between them, to claim the kiss she had been craving all night.

But just as their lips were about to meet, Cynthia’s voice cut through the moment, stopping Ariana in her tracks.

“What’s with you today?” Cynthia asked with an amused chuckle, her hands coming up to rest lightly on Ariana’s shoulders. “Why are you so… lusty?”

Ariana blinked, momentarily thrown off by the unexpected question. Lusty? She had plenty of better words for what she was feeling - needy, desperate, completely and utterly obsessed with Cynthia in ways she wasn’t ready to unpack. But she just huffed, rolling her eyes as her grip on Cynthia’s waist tightened in mild frustration.

It felt like another rejection. And Ariana didn’t do well with rejection.

Her grip on Cynthia’s waist tightened as a flicker of irritation sparked in her chest. She searched Cynthia’s face, trying to decipher if this was some kind of game - if she was being teased, or worse, dismissed.

“Don’t act like you didn’t just come all over my fingers,” she shot back, her voice low and edged with defiance.

Her pulse pounded as she studied Cynthia’s expression, searching for any sign that she wasn’t alone in this, that she hadn’t completely misread everything between them.

She wasn’t the only one feeling this tension between them. Was she?

“No,” Cynthia said quickly, her voice firm but gentle, realizing where Ariana’s mind went. “I definitely feel the same way.”

Ariana’s breath caught, but before she could respond, Cynthia continued, her brows pulling together in quiet amusement. “I just-” she exhaled, shaking her head slightly, “I guess I’m wondering… why now?”

She glanced toward the door, as if suddenly hyperaware of where they were. “You chose a very risky time and place to make your move.”

Her tone wasn’t scolding, but curious. Playful, even. But Ariana could still hear the underlying question: ‘ Why here? Why tonight?’

“Oh.” Ariana hesitated, turning the question over in her mind.

Why tonight? Why now?

She let out a slow breath, her gaze dropping to the oversized shirt Cynthia was still wearing - the one that belonged to Lena. Her fingers twitched at Cynthia’s waist, and when she looked back up, her eyes were filled with something raw, something unspoken.

“I wasn’t planning on it,” she admitted, her voice softer now. “I just…” She swallowed, then lifted her chin, meeting Cynthia’s gaze with quiet intensity. “I guess I just wanted to claim you in some way. I don’t know.”

Her confession hung in the air between them - vulnerable, honest, and impossible to take back.

Cynthia cupped Ariana’s face and pulled her in, capturing her lips in a kiss that was slow, deep, and consuming. It wasn’t rushed or frantic—it was deliberate, a kiss that spoke of possession and certainty. Her lips moved against Ariana’s with practiced ease, her tongue sweeping in to taste her, to take her breath away.

When she finally pulled back, Cynthia rested her forehead against Ariana’s, her fingers tracing the curve of her jaw. Her voice was barely above a whisper, but it carried the weight of something undeniable.

“You don’t have to fuck me to claim me,” she murmured, brushing her lips over Ariana’s once more. “I’ve been yours for a while.”

Those words settled something deep inside Ariana - calmed the simmering tension that had been pushing and pulling at her all night. But still…

She tilted her head, eyes dark with intent. “But,” she murmured, trailing her fingers down Cynthia’s chest, “I really want to fuck you again.”

Cynthia laughed, rich and warm. “We can do that too.”

Ariana smirked but then tugged at the fabric of Lena’s shirt with a small frown. “And please don’t wear this again. I hate it.”

Cynthia grinned, clearly amused. “Why? After tonight, it’s become my favorite shirt.”

Ariana rolled her eyes and shoved her gently toward the recording booth. “Don’t you dare,” she teased.

Cynthia stumbled forward with a breathy laugh. “Where are you taking me?”

Ariana shot her a wicked grin. “You know Guns N’ Roses?”

“Oh my God,” Cynthia groaned, laughing loudly as Ariana pushed her inside, promising to turn her moans into a chart-topping hit.

By the time Cynthia went home to Lena later that night, the ghost of Ariana’s touch still lingered on her skin. The taste of her still lingered on Cynthia’s lips. And as she laid in bed, staring at the ceiling while Lena slept beside her, she knew - Ariana had claimed her. Completely.