Julia’s heart ached as she moved up Vic’s body until their faces were inches apart.
She kissed her tears away.
Vic opened her eyes slowly, meeting her gaze with a look so raw, so open, Julia felt like she might come apart herself.
“I forgot,” Vic whispered. “It could feel like this.”
“Like what?” Julia asked gently.
Vic swallowed. “Like… being loved. Not… evaluated.”
Julia stroked her cheek. “I am not marking you out of ten.”
Vic gave a tiny laugh, breathless. “Well, that’s good, because I definitely cried in the middle of that.”
“That was my favourite part,” Julia said.
“Pervert,” Vic muttered fondly.
Julia smiled and leant to kiss her again. This time, Vic kissed back with steadier hands, pulling Julia down until their bodies aligned, warmth meeting warmth.
It wasn’t just about release anymore. It was about connection, restoration. About two people who’d been living side by side in crisis mode finally turning to face each other again.
When Julia eventually let herself be coaxed into stripping off and lying fully beside Vic, their limbs tangling, she let Vic touch her in return. Gently at first. Vic’s fingers seeking out the persistent wetness between her legs. Vic’s fingers pushing inside of her, feeling her body open up to welcome them home.
“Oh, Vic… that feels so good.”
Vic’s voice was breathy in her ear. “You feel so fucking good.” Vic rolled on top of her and her fingers began to fuck Julia, deep and slow, in a rhythm that Julia knew was exactly what she needed.
They moved together in that old, familiar rhythm — the one built over late nights and early mornings and stolen weekends and long, difficult years. A rhythm that had carried them through arguments and reconciliations, through funerals and celebrations, through all the versions of themselves they’d been.
It wasn’t perfect. It didn’t need to be.
It was them.
Julia rocked against Vic’s hand grinding her clitoris as she did so. She felt the delicious pressure that she knew would tip her over the edge.
She relaxed into it, knowing the orgasm would overtake her and it did, flooding through her body, through every tiny atom of her being. Julia saw a kaleidoscope of colours as she climaxed with Vic’s fingers deep inside her.
As she opened her eyes, Vic was above her smiling, then kissing her again.
“You were right,” she whispered.
Later — much later — they lay tangled together in the dim light, sheets rumpled around their bodies, the fire burning low.
Vic’s head rested on Julia’s shoulder. Her hair was damp at the temples. She looked utterly wrung out and softer than Julia had seen her in months.
Her hand rested over Julia’s heart, fingers lazily tracing the outline of her collarbone.
“I feel…” Vic began, then frowned slightly, searching. “Lighter.”
“That’s what happens when you stop trying to personally keep the earth spinning,” Julia said.
Vic made a small, sleepy sound. “I still want tomorrow to be lovely for them.”
“It will be,” Julia said. “Because you’re you. And because we’re all here. That’s enough.”
Vic nodded against her. “No more spreadsheets tonight,” she murmured.
