There’s a werewolf in Granny’s kitchen and Red doesn’t know where to start asking questions. But this surprise visitor might just wind up being the best thing in Red’s life.
Note: I started (hand) writing this story near the end of last year. It’s been in the works for way longer than that. I wanted to write the werewolf story that I wasn’t seeing in the world: a story where a cute and tiny Black werewolf gets the (big and buff) girl and then – They get another girlfriend. This is one of the most self indulgent thing that y’all will see from me this year, especially if you dodged listening to the A/B/O post on Patreon. Thank you for coming along on my journey for yet another year. I love y’all like my little bossy werewolf loves baking. ❤
Red isn’t expecting the wolf that she finds in her grandmother’s sunny kitchen. It’s not like she’s never seen a werewolf before, this part of the country is lousy with them. However, Red has never seen a werewolf in her grandmother’s house before. Not with how… complicated the relationships are between her grandmother and the local packs.
Hell, Red has even worked with a few werewolves at the zoos she’s been working at across the years. They’re the best people to have at your side when dealing with the natural wolves that many zoos have, and they can handle the heavier predators.
The werewolf bending down in front of the oven doesn’t look like any of the werewolves that Red has worked with before. For one thing, Red thinks to herself as she watches the werewolf straighten up to a not-so intimidating height, this is the shortest werewolf Red has ever seen. She barely comes up to Red’s shoulders and she seems like such a tiny little thing.
Gold eyes meet green ones.
At some point during Red’s distracted observation, the werewolf has turned to face her. Oh, and what a face. Deep brown skin, high cheekbones and an upturned nose.
Full lips quirk up in a smirk.
“See something you like?”
“I’m R-Red,” she says, stammering and not even close to answering the werewolf’s question.
“I know,” the shifter says, still smiling, “Your grandma told me all about you.” Her smile softens and then she sticks out one flour-dusted hand for Red to shake. “You can call me Lovie.”
Lovie’s handshake is short, practically perfunctory. She pumps Red’s hand once and then draws back, barely seeming bothered by the scratch of their calluses.
Red finds herself longing for a way to draw out the contact that wouldn’t seem creepy. Unfortunately, that’s not possible. So Red settles for trying to satisfy her curiosity.
“What are you doing here?”
Lovie shrugs. “Baking a pie for dinner.”
“Dinner?” Red parrots.
“Part of the deal for staying with your grandma,” Lovie says, “I do dinner and lunch in exchange for a safe space where no one from my pack can track me.” Her smile turns devilish, teasing. “’sides, I’ve tasted your grandma’s cooking. I’m doing her a favor.”
Red… isn’t sure what to tackle first because nothing makes sense. Red’s grandmother – once famous for the bounty work she did for the alpha werewolves across the company – has a werewolf cooking dinner for her. A cute werewolf on the run for her pack.
Instead of all the questions that Red should be asking, she asks, “What kind of pie are you making?”
Lovie blinks those big gold eyes, clearly taken aback by the unexpected question.
Red licks her lips. “My favorite.”
Lovie doesn’t relax. In fact, Red’s answer only serves to get her back up. The look on her face is wary,
“That’s it? That’s all you’re going to ask me? Not about my pack or your grandma?” At the end of her last question, her rough voice ratchets up in volume. Not quite yelling, but it’s close.
Red shrugs. “I’m not gonna lie and say I’m not curious,” she says. “But Granny raised me to mind my own business. I just met you; If you’re not comfortable sharing your business with a perfect stranger, I don’t blame you.”
Red knows that she can sometimes come across as a little… overbearing, even when she doesn’t mean to. She’s six feet tall, give or take an inch or two, and she’s visibly strong. She’s gone toe to toe with werewolf alphas (“for fun” arm wrestling matches to build camaraderie) and has carried her fair share of unconscious apex predators to and from her examination tables.
The last thing Red wants is to make Lovie feel threatened or pressured into answering uncomfortable questions.
So, she offers Lovie a smile that feels tight around the corners of her mouth and reaches for the nearest hard-backed kitchen chair. The yellow and blue monstrosity creaks underneath Red’s weight, a testament to how long it’s been since Granny’s last round of updating the furniture in this little-used room.
“Don’t you have anything more important to do than watch me cook?”
Lovie doesn’t wait for Red to actually answer her question, turning back to the ancient oven and fiddling with the knobs.
But Red feels as if she owes Lovie an answer anyway.
“I can’t remember the last time that someone who could cook used this kitchen,” Red says honestly. “Granny’s been burning breakfasts since I was a kid and before they left, neither of my parents cooked that much.
It’s the truth.
Red has been living off of microwave meals and take-out for far longer than she’s willing to admit to. So, to see Lovie puttering around the kitchen and actually making something aside from a mess –
It’s almost enough to make Red feel like swooning.
Red has a thing for women who can cook.
Always has, always will.
And when the woman in question is a short, too-cute, werewolf that looks as if she can’t decide what she wants to do to Red –
Lovie’s nostrils flare as she inhales deeply.
“You know, she says in an almost conversational tone. “I can smell you. Your… interest.” She doesn’t seem offended by whatever it is she smells on Red’s skin, just… intrigued.
Never before has Red wished so hard to be hit with a sudden case of spontaneous human combustion.
“I-I-,” Red stammers, feeling her face heat up with a flush that she knows shows on her peaches and cream complexion. So, she’s just red as her hair.
Lovie shakes her head, an exasperated smile on her face, and then plonks a potato peeler and a bag of Yukon Golds down on the kitchen table in front of Red.
“Let’s see how handy you are with a potato peeler before I decide what I’m going to do with you,” Lovie says, smiling so widely that the sharp points of her teeth are visible.
Barely, just barely, Red manages to resist the urge to fire off a salute, grabbing the peeler and the largest potato out of the ones that’d tumbled out of the bag.
“I’m good at being useful,” Red says, trying valiantly to ignore the blush setting her cheeks afire.
Lovie gives Red an unsubtle, lingering onceover.
“I’ll just bet that you are.”
Granny makes an appearance right around the time that Lovie finishes putting Red to work in the kitchen. Granny is formidable even now, and the steady thump of her cane against the hardwood floor reminds Red of what it was like to grow up with Granny chasing after her.
In her seventies, with a shock of brilliant white hair in need of a haircut, Granny looks like she did when Red was little. She’s tanned almost nut brown from working her garden, and the muscles she’d honed from working as a bounty hunter and from carting Red around all over the place long past the time most grandparents had given up on the task are still strong.
Granny thumps her way into the kitchen and plops down in the chair between Lovie and Red, sitting down hard enough that the old wooden chair rocks back on its rear legs.
“I see you’ve met my granddaughter,” Granny says to Lovie, reaching out to pat the backs of Lovie’s flour-dusted hands. “I hope she hasn’t been giving you a hard time.”
Lovie blinks rapidly and then offers Granny a soft smile that makes Red feel disgustingly… goopy inside.
“Red’s alright,” she says after a while.
When she glances at Red from underneath the gold-brown lace of her long eyelashes, her smile shifts.
“It’s nice to have such… capable help in the kitchen,” Lovie says, her golden eyes flashing bright in the light from overhead. “Maybe I’ll keep her around.”
Red feels her face flare with a reawakened heat as another blush makes her long for the sweet release of spontaneous combustion once more. At the surface level, and to Granny, Lovie’s comments are innocent enough.
But to Red, who’s spent the better part of the past hour realizing that Lovie is an incurable flirt over putting dinner together –
“I – I have to go take a walk,” Red blurts out, face on fire. She pushes up for the kitchen table, wincing at the worrying creak of abused wood that she hears the table make. Before Lovie or Granny can say anything, Red makes a beeline for the kitchen door and is half-way down the stairs in seconds.
As the door swings shut behind her, Red swears she hears Granny telling Lovie, to, “Give her time to calm down. You didn’t do anything wrong,” in her gruff voice.
If anything, Granny’s words make Red’s face feel even hotter and she immediately sets off for the path that winds through the woods that encircle Granny’s house. There’s something about Lovie – her honest eyes, maybe, or how easily she’d seemed to make up her mind about Red over an hour of cooking together – that flashes Red back to being a gawky teenage girl too afraid to even make eye contact with cute girls.
And Granny’s words, the utter lack of judgement in her voice, at Red’s flare-up of awkwardness –
Well that doesn’t help with things.
Sighing, Red scrubs one hand over her face. She feels flushed and embarrassed, more annoyed with herself than anyone else. A walk will do her some good and maybe, by the time the food’s done, Red won’t be such an awkward mess.
Red quickly loses track of the time, but before she registers that it’s getting late, she hears the sound of someone – or something – moving around in the brush nearby.
She isn’t scared. This time of the year, the forest isn’t exactly a high traffic area for animals. And with Granny’s wards and her reputation, the only people likely to be tramping around the woods at sunset are her and –
Red can’t help the way that she says the other woman’s name when she steps into view, somewhere between a prayer and a plea.
In the fading light from the setting sun, Lovie looks as if she’s been dipped in gold. She looks so beautiful with her brown skin and hair gleaming that Red feels stunned, like she’s just walked face first into a tree.
“Y-you came looking for me,” Red eventually manages to stutter out, her emphasis on the last word turning the entire sentence into a question.
Lovie ducks her head in a surprisingly shy nod.
“Yeah,” she says, offering Red a smile. “Dinner’s ready.” Lovie pauses, one hand lifting to cover her mouth for a moment before she drops it back to her side. “But that’s not the only reason I’m out here.”
Red’s heart skips a beat. “It’s not?’
Lovie’s smile widens and she shakes her head. “It’s not.”
“Wh-what –“ Red’s sentence starts out choppy and stops before it even gets anywhere, but that’s fine because then Lovie steps in close and smiles up at Red as if she already knows what Red had been ready to say.
Except, what she says isn’t what Red expects.
“How long will you be here visiting your Granny?”
Red blinks, thinking. “Uh, my vacation lasts a week before I have to head back into work.’
“Good,” Lovie says. “Now I have time to woo you.”
“Woo me,” Red blurts out, her head spinning. “Why?”
At that, Lovie gives Red a look and starts ticking off points on her fingers.
“First, you’re like… half a foot taller than me,” she says. “Second, you helped me cook and didn’t fuck it up. Third, I’ve been listening to your Granny talk about you for ages. And fourth – “ Lovie pauses to suck in a great big breath of air. “Have you looked in a mirror lately? You’re gorgeous!”
Red hears herself stutter out a whole bunch of nothing and goddess knows she’s embarrassed again, but for once, it’s overwhelmingly drowned out by the sheer pleasure at hearing Lovie’s earnest compliments.
“Do you – I mean, are you serious? About this?”
Lovie nods again and dares to reach out and squeeze Red’s left shoulder.
“Werewolves don’t just woo anyone, you know?”
After a dinner that is surprising, not just for how delicious it is, but for how comfortable Red is able to be as she sits between Grannie and Lovie at the dining room table, Granny takes her leave.
“You girls are young,” she manages to say with a straight face belied only by the twinkle in her hazel eyes. “Spend some time getting to know each other without me getting in the way.” Granny leans in and, with a conspiratorial smile on her lined face, says, ‘she likes you, Red. Try not to worry.”
As if that is how things work.
Red opens her mouth to say something to that effect when Granny’s words catch up with her. Red stares at her grandmother, her eyes wide.
Granny cocks one white eyebrow at Red.
“The girl goes out of her way to find you in the woods and has you coming back to the house with your face as red as your hair. Don’t tell me you didn’t realize that she likes you.”
Thankfully, Lovie isn’t in the kitchen with them, or Red would have to turn to self-immolation to handle the embarrassment for that. Red had claimed cleaning duty since Lovie’d done most of the work with dinner and the other woman had headed upstairs twenty minutes before with a grateful smile. Werewolf hearing being what it is, Red wouldn’t be surprised to know that Lovie can still hear them perfectly despite the space between them.
“Granny,” Red says, voice threatening to slide into the territory of a loud whine. ‘you can’t just – I can’t –”
Granny cuts Red off with another one of those looks and gestures at the refrigerator chugging away in the corner. “Now, I’ve got ice cream in the freezer. Fix Lovie a bowl and find something to watch on the television.”
Red bite at her bottom lip. “You’re being awfully pushy.”
Entirely unashamed, Granny tells Red that, “It’s been a long time since I saw you this excited about someone new.’
Before Red can collect herself, Granny turns and walks away, moving out of earshot and leaving Red in the kitchen alone.
A few minutes later, the soft pad of bare feet against tile gives Red a single warning before Lovie walks into the kitchen, dangling the cordless phone from the living room between two fingers.
“Did I hear something about ice cream?”
Lovie waits until Red has finished with her bowl of ice cream – black cherry chocolate with chocolate sauce on top – before she does her best to maneuver her way into the other woman’s lap. The second that Red rests her bowl on the coffee table and then settles back against the arm of the couch with her beer cupped loosely in one fist, Lovie makes her move.
“Any room for me here?” Lovie asks, her voice sliding down into an almost feline purr as she gestures at where Red’s big body is sprawled out across the couch.
Red starts and begins to swing her legs around the side of the couch, but a gentle touch to her leg stops all movement. Red looks up at Lovie, fully aware that her eyes must be huge in her face.
Lovie ducks her head briefly and then, when she looks up again, offers Red a sweet if sheepish smile.
“I want to sit in your lap, Red,” Lovie says. “Not on the couch.”
But Red takes too long to take in what Lovie is saying, and the other woman’s face crumples like she’s going to cry and –
“Sit with me,” Red says as she snags Lovie’s left hand in her write, pulling the other woman close. “Please.”
When Lovie sits in her lap, Red can’t hide the happy smile that settles on her face.
But then again, she doesn’t have to.
Red wakes up with a mouth full of sour, beer flavored cotton, her nose buried in curly brown hair, and her back afire with pain. The back pain, at least, makes sense. It’s what happens every single time that she falls asleep on Granny’s couch. Same goes for the disgusting taste in her mouth.
But the hair in her face –
That’s a new one.
Red sputters, spitting out a few strands of hair that’ve found their way into her mouth, before she props herself up on one elbow to survey her surroundings.
In sleep, Lovie sprawls across Red’s body so deeply asleep that she barely budges at the slight movement. She snorts in her sleep, a deeply inelegant sound, and cuddles closer to red as if there’s nowhere else she’d rather be. Normally, in the early morning, Granny’s house is usually chilly enough to warrant a blanket or two. Werewolf-warm, Lovie’s heavy body chases away the cold so efficiently that Red doesn’t miss her blankets at all.
After all, the blankets don’t smell like Lovie. They don’t smell wild, like the wind outside and the forest during the fall. The blankets don’t nuzzle in against Red’s throat, sighing sleepy syllables out across Red’s skin in a similarly beer-scented rush of breath.
Red cranes her neck, trying to peer at the clock at the far end of the living room. From her vantage point, vision partially obscured by the bold fluff of Lovie’s hair and with sunlight glinting off the clock’s glass front, all she can tell is that it’s earlier than she’d been expecting to wake up at any point during her vacation.
In sleep, Lovie seems extra cuddly, no small feat considering how attractive and welcoming she is while wide awake. Every time that Red shifts, Lovie presses close, shifting about as if trying to keep red from getting up.
“Mmm…” Lovie’s lips curve up in a sleepy smile that Red can feel against her skin. The quiet noise that slips free from her mouth makes warmth rush through Red’s body.
“Lovie,” Red murmurs, her hand rising to rest at the small of the short werewolf’s back, palm splaying out across the soft skin revealed by the gap between the hem of her shirt and the waistband of her sweats. “It’s time to get up.”
This one more “annoyed” than “exhausted”.
“I don’ wanna,” Lovie grumbles, rubbing her face against the side of Red’s shoulder. “’m comfy.”
Red tries to muffle her laughter in the riotous fluff of Lovie’s hair, but she isn’t quite successful. “Cute.” She rubs her fingers across that thin sliver of skin, smiling at the way Lovie shudders against her in response.
“We have to get up,” Red says, trying and failing to keep her voice stern in the face of Lovie’s endless squirming. “Don’t you want breakfast?”
Lovie shakes her head. “Not hungry,” she insists.
The audible rumble of her stomach a few moments later proves that her words are a lie.
At that, Red sits up. It’s a bit of a challenge thanks to Lovie’s warm, heavy body and the way that the other woman purposefully goes limp at the first sign of movement, but Red manages. Managing, by the way, leads to Red sitting up with Lovie’s body tucked against hers, her strong legs set to either side of Red’s thick thighs.
“L-Lovie,” Red stammers, hands flexing against the supremely squirmy werewolf’s legs as a puff of breath against her throat makes heat spark low in her belly. “C’mon, we have to get up.”
Lovie shakes her head and clings to Red even harder. The squeeze of her limbs is strong enough to make Red gasp, and she knows she’s not imagining the smug upward curve to Lovie’s lips where they’re pressed against her skin.
Ah, Red thinks to herself with a slow smile of her own. So that’s how it’s gonna be.
Red swings her legs around until her feet are flat on the floor in front of the couch and then stands up in a less-than-smooth motion.
Lovie yelps, clinging to Red even harder until Red grunts and almost drops her.
“I’m up! I’m up,” Lovie squeaks in the next moment, dropping to the floor with a thud before grinning up at Red to show that there aren’t any hard feelings. She puts her hands on her hips and affects an obviously put-upon glower. “Now that I’m up, you owe me breakfast.”
“Breakfast?” Red repeats, the lilt in her voice turning that single word into a question. “You want me to make you breakfast?”
Red doesn’t mean to sound as skeptical as he does, it’s just –
Aside from Granny’s height and red hair there’s another thing that she seems to have passed down to Red as well: her inability to cook.
“I can uh – fry you an egg,” Red offers, feeling all kinds of clumsy as she speaks. “Or – or make you pancakes?
Even Red can’t screw eggs and pancakes up.
Lovie’s smile seems to get impossibly wider.
“You’ve got yourself a deal.”
Sometime between Red’s fifth and sixth successful attempts at flipping pancakes, Granny comes downstairs. The older woman greets them with a sleepy grumble of syllables and a request for coffee – made with her eyebrows alone.
“Mornin’ Granny,” Lovie says with a smile, rising to her feet with the quiet sound of wood-against-wood from where she doesn’t pick up her chair. “Let me fix you a cup of coffee.”
Red rocks on her bare heels. “I should –“
Lovie shushes her, still smiling. “You should keep cooking and let me take care of Granny,” she says, the smile on her face only widening. “Don’t forget, you promised me breakfast and I don’t eat burnt food.”
Red tries to pay attention to the frying pan in front of her. She really does. But she keeps letting her mind’s eye track Lovie around the kitchen from the ancient coffee machine to the fridge for creamer and then back to the table. Only the clatter of silverware against solid ceramics jolts her back to reality.
Just in time for the sting of burning pancakes to hit her nostrils.
That one pancake aside, Red doesn’t burn any other part of breakfast after Granny comes down. Somehow, even with half her mind focused on the quiet hum of conversation behind her, Red manages to cook a decent, if simple, breakfast for three.
Pancakes, eggs, and coffee about the only things that Red can whip up in the kitchen with any measure of success, so she finds herself gratified to watch Lovie and Granny chow down like they’re eating a five-star meal.
Red’s so busy watching and feeling smug over her small cooking success, that she almost forgets that she should be eating as well. It takes a stern look from Granny and Lovie pointedly thumping a plate down in front of her for her to get the memo.
“You don’t have to look so smug,” Lovie says. But she’s smiling as she says it. Smiling and leaning closer than she needs to considering how she started out almost across from Red.
Granny takes a deep draught of her coffee and then settles back in her chair. As Red eats, she seems to sigh with contentment, like she can’t imagine being happier to have Red and Lovie decimate the contents of her fridge. It’s a strangely sentimental look coming from a woman that’s always prided herself on being… entirely unsentimental.
“You feelin’ okay, Granny?” Red asks after swallowing a mouthful of syrup-soaked pancakes.
The question, while phrased innocently enough, earns Red another stern look. This look however, slowly melts into an almost sheepish smile.
“It’s been a long time since I saw you this… settled,” Granny says, the words reminding Red of her words the night before. “It looks good on you, girl.”
Again, Red finds herself longing for the sweet release of sudden spontaneous combustion.
“Granny,” Red wails, dropping her head into her hands over her plate. She’s so very aware of Lovie’s warm little body cuddled up close to her and like –
It’d be different if Lovie wasn’t right there, all smug and settled and so damn close…
“Take it easy on her,” Lovie says, her voice dropping down until it’s almost a growl. “At this rate, Red’s going to burn up before I ever get her to kiss me.” There’s the sound of shifting and then another one of those pointed silences stretches on.
It’s very pointed.
After a moment, Granny huffs.
“Fine,” she grumbles, sounding so grouchy that Red doesn’t bother to stifle the smile on her lips. “But I know Red. My girl likes to take things slow and I’m not getting any younger here.”
Red’s blush comes back with a vengeance. However, before she can get chance to try and burst her grandmother’s eardrums with the volume of her wail, the older woman rises from the table with a clatter of porcelain and then the familiar sound of her heavy tread.
One strong, boney hand closes around Red’s right shoulder and squeezes once, a callused thumb sweeping over her skin.
“I’ll leave you alone, Red,” Granny rasps, a smile in her voice. “I’m only jus’ teasin’ you.”
Red nods without looking up. “I know.”
The shoulder squeeze turns into a quick half-hug and that is what gets Red to finally look up from her hands.
Granny pats Red again, gently. “I’ll clean up. You two should get out of the house. Take Lovie into town for the day.”
Red dares to look at Lovie. “You want to uh – go into town with me?”
Lovie’s golden eyes gleam in the morning sunlight stealing in from the kitchen windows. Her smile is a wide, wild thing, but it softens as she peers up at Red from underneath the lace of her eyelashes.
“Are you asking me out on a date?”
Red feels her face burn, and she studiously ignores the decidedly witchy laugh that Granny barks out in response to Lovie’s question.
“Granny,” Red wails once more, furiously refusing to even look at her grandmother as the other woman finishes up at the sink.
“I’m goin’, I’m goin’,” Granny says before finally (finally) heading out of the kitchen.
Red exhales in a slow, sullen breath. “I love her,” she says, “but sometimes…”
Lovie leans in close, daring to rest her head on Red’s shoulder. “Sometimes, she makes you feel like screaming?”
“Exactly,” Red says on a sigh. Reluctantly, she reaches for her mug of coffee and drains it in one deep swallow. The liquid burns a bit as it goes down, but soon Red rests the mug down with a muted clatter. She shifts sideways so that she can see more of Lovie than the top of her head and the tip of her nose.
“You don’t have to go into town if you don’t want to,” Red says quietly, trying to be what – gracious?, as she peers down at Lovie’s face.
Lovie’s answering scoff sounds more like a snort.
“You’re kidding me right?” Lovie says, laughing a little before she sobers. “I told you that I was going to woo you. It’s only been one day: don’t tell me you think I’ve changed my mind.” Lovie pauses, sharp white teeth digging into the full flesh of her bottom lip. “Un-unless you’ve changed yours?”
That’s the little wobble that Red registers in Lovie’s voice.
She doesn’t like it.
Not one bit.
“Hell no,” Red blurts out before her brain can catch up with her mouth. “I would never.” Then it’s Red’s turn to pause and she feels the heat of that returning blush sweep across her cheeks. “I want this – I mean – I want the wooing. I want to woo you too.”
Fifteen minutes later, Lovie and Red meet outside by Red’s trusty pickup truck. Despite how much Red wants to look god for Lovie, she hadn’t exactly packed for picking up a cute werewolf. So she’s wearing a tank top that stretches almost obscenely across her broad chest and breasts, her second favorite leather jacket, and dark blue jeans tucked into her work boots. She looks decent enough probably, but that doesn’t explain Lovie’s reaction when she comes outside.
Lovie’s golden eyes get wide at first. Then, they narrow as a calculating, almost hungry look settles on her face.
“My,” Lovie purrs, sounding so feline that Red almost has to rethink what she knows about werewolves. “What big –“ she pauses to lick her lips in a slow swipe that makes Red feel like whimpering before she continues, “shoulders you have.”
Red chokes on her own saliva.
Of course she does.
She’ll manage to be more embarrassed about it later, sometime in the distant future when Lovie isn’t standing a few feet away from her and looking downright edible in a red and black sweater-dress and winter tights that make Red’s hand itch from wanting to touch them. Lovie’s legs, she means.
“How are you even real?” Red asks on an exhale, scrubbing one hand through her short red hair. She shakes her head, smiling as she watches Lovie stride across the gravel to the passenger side of Red’s truck and then… vanish for a moment before she rocks up on the tips of her toes so that she can peer at Red through the passenger side window.
“Are you gonna help me up or not?”
Red nearly trips over her bootlaces in her scramble to the other side of the truck. Thankfully, Love’s laughter, when it comes, is fond instead of mocking, and Red manages to open the passenger side door with only minimal fumbling.
The open door poses another problem.
Lovie is short. So short, that getting in and out of Red’s pickup will be a challenge.
“D- do you need h-help getting in?” Red stammers as she looks down at Lovie’s sharp smile. “I-I can l-lift you?” Once again, the upward lilt in her voice makes the words into a question. “I-if you want?”
Lovie, and there’s no better word to describe what she does next, wiggles against the side of Red’s truck. Her gold eyes light up and she nods immediately, hard enough to make her curly hair bounce.
“Yes please,” Lovie blurts out in a downright breathy rush of words. She pulls down the hem of her dress a little and then grins. “Lift away.”
Red’s hands shake a little as she sets them in against Lovie’s warm waist. Lovie is small, but she’s solid all over and squishy enough to make Red feel like a nibble or two. When she lifts Lovie up in the cab, heat arcs between them.
“Y-you’re so strong,” Lovie says, her voice soft and thick with what Red slowly recognizes as lust. She wiggles again, shifting against the worn leather seat even as he reaches for the collar of Red’s jacket to haul her in close. “How are you even real?”
“I just work out a lot,” she says. “And you’re so tiny –“
Lovie laughs long and loud, head tilting back to expose the long line of her throat. “I might be tiny, but I’ve got those dense werewolf bones.”
Red catches herself leaning in, almost as if she’s trying to get more of Lovie’s warmth against her skin. She draws back a bit, though not too far, Lovie’s hand on her collar makes sure of that.
“I-is this okay?” Lovie asks. She has to repeat herself twice before Red registers the words. That’s how focused she is on the soft shape of the other woman’s mouth.
“H-huh?” Red says, blinking rapidly.
“I want to kiss you,” Lovie says, barely moving her lips. “i-is that okay?” The gingers she has on Red’s collar slide up to brush over her jaw in a featherlight caress that tickles.
Red nods and then, before she can chicken out, leans in to press a quick, close-mouthed kiss to Lovie’s lips. It’s fast and probably unsatisfying, but Red can hardly breathe through the tension tightening her throat.
“Again,” Lovie whispers, her eyes squeezed shut as she leans forward. “Kiss me again. Please.”
Red kisses Lovie again, partially because she can’t deny such a polite and plaintive request. This second kiss starts out close-mouthed, but then, when Lovie’s breath hitches in a soft gasp that parts her lips, Red can’t resist.
Lovie tastes like toothpaste mostly, but underneath that has to be something that’s all Lovie. Her tongue slides slickly against Red’s and her (small, strong) hands cup the back of Red’s head, fingers rubbing over the buzzed short hair there.
When Lovie whimpers a moment later, strong little knees digging into Reds sides hard enough to hurt, Red wrenches their mouths apart.
“Fuck,” Red says.
Lovie shifts on the seat, batting her eyelashes at Red in an exaggerated expression that should make Red laugh, but instead –
Heat hits her low in the gut and her fingers actually tingle with how badly she wants to grab Lovie and finish what they’ve started.
But, she wants to do more with Lovie than kiss her senseless. She wants to do that too, but well…
“As much as I want to carry you upstairs and kiss you all over,” Red says, her voice an almost unrecognizable rasp. “I asked you to come into town with me.”
With great effort, Red pulls back properly from Lovie’s soft, sweet mouth and fixes the other woman’s dress where it’s ridden up along her thighs.
“Oh god, yes,” Lovie breathes.
Love keeps her left hand on Red’s thigh the entire drive into town.