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## i keep circling (i am pure, pure love)

|| Jane/Casey Brinke. Explicit NSFW.

They both know it—they can’t do this yet. Casey is so refreshing, so new to existence, lacking familiarity with the world. She barely got to be on Earth before they transcended into space, soaring above the pitiful planet beneath them. They can’t Be a Something yet. Casey doesn’t know how to do relationships—she doesn’t know how to do much at all yet, and Jane admires this about her, finds renewal in her newness. The last relationship this body had ended in disaster and suicide, but Casey is gentle and pure in her kisses.

Still, Jane fears.

That’s kind of how it is with trauma—the fear never truly leaves you, the spectre of it like a being that has been trapped between solid walls. Jane has moved on, and the Kaleidoscope knows harmony, but it’s still—-frightening, to be vulnerable. To give yourself to someone else. Jane almost cannot handle it.

Casey’s lips and fingers and hands and body. Her touch is unbearably gentle. Friends, more, lovers—it blurs into a brown nothingness like paint in water. Distinction becomes irrelevant. Casey pries open Jane's legs as Jane relaxes, splayed across her pod bed, and her nips and kisses into Jane's thighs are growing increasingly desperate.

“You’re so beautiful,” Casey whispers, and then: “I mean, um, hot,” she adds, because she’s not too good at dirty talk yet and knows it. It doesn’t matter, though—Jane finds it so horribly endearing.

She discards her jacket, bright blue falling to the spaceship’s floor with a soft rustle. Jane doesn’t know how she’s so good at this—how the hell is she so good at this, actually, because by all logic she shouldn’t be. Maybe when she was a fictional character, she loved another woman—and thinking about Casey loving another woman makes Jane stir within, in a way that can absolutely never be analyzed.

“I just,” Casey breathes, her breath panted out warm against Jane’s skin. “I just, I can’t believe—you’re so—I want you so much.”

“Oh, yeah?” Jane asks with a serene smile. “How much?”

Casey begins kissing down Jane’s legs. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted,” she says, and then her touch moves upwards again, circling over Jane’s knees and back to her thighs. It’s weird, but engaging—she lets out a faint moan, and then a louder moan as Casey’s lips brush over her clit, then elsewhere, and back to her clit again, increasing her suction with each cycle. Her mouth is wet and hot, her tongue now flat over Jane’s cunt as it aches for her. Only her.

She pulls back for a moment. “So beautiful,” she whispers. “All mine.”

Jane looks down to stroke Casey’s cheek. “ Casey, ” she gasps, and repeats it with a shriek when Casey slips a finger in, alternating thrusts between flicks and movement. Jane’s entire body trembles, threatening to break, but Jane only wants to be dissolved in her.

“Everything,” Casey says, moaning against Jane, intoxicated by their connection. “You’re everything, and more.”