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When Fareeha finally arrived back at the Overwatch headquarters from the impromptu mission call, her birthday had already come and gone nearly a week earlier.
It had been a surprisingly extended mission for an emergency call, had been messy at best even with her mother and Jack there with her, had been a turbulent and long flight back. At this point, there had been a million and one things over the past week that were all justifiable enough cause for the black mood that hung over Fareeha like a stormcloud as she wearily debriefed and then trudged back to the quarters she shared with Angela.
She was upset, there was no denying that. Upset with the civilian casualties that had still occurred even for a ‘successful’ mission; upset with the lack of sleep and physical fatigue that had long since set in. She was upset with not seeing or even getting comm time with her girlfriend in the last eight days.
But more than anything, she was quietly upset with herself at subconsciously anticipating so much for such a simple thing to celebrate.
A birthday.
How many birthdays had come and passed in her adult life without any fanfare or celebration? Most of them. She’d gotten used to barely marking them on her calendar, so just when had she let herself become so enamored with Angela’s idea of celebrating her first birthday with Overwatch this year?
Fareeha knew as well as any of them that a crisis or active call could arise at moment’s notice. It had happened before. It would happen again. And yet when two days before her birthday Jack had barked the emergency summons for Fareeha to accompany him with a strike team to central Asia, Fareeha’s heart and mood alike had sunk, and had only continued to sink further still as the mission had dragged out.
She knocked once on the door for manner’s sake, and then walked into her quarters.
“Fareeha!” Angela was standing in an instant from her seat on the couch, but not even her blooming smile did much to dent Fareeha’s dark mood this time. “You’re home!”
As she had been hoping to be. Days earlier.
“You must be exhausted.”
She gave a clipped nod. “I am. Long mission.”
Angela hugged her and gave a gentle kiss, and Fareeha only felt her own tiredness weigh down on her like a physical burden. She trudged toward their bathroom, intent on a long and hot shower before she could collapse into the oblivion of sleep.
However, she stopped cold as soon as she walked into the bedroom. On the desk that Angela typically made use of was a small but colorful pile of wrapped gifts, and even from this distance, Fareeha could see the notes and tags attached to the ones from various respective squadmates.
Angela walked in behind her a moment later.
“These are for me?”
“Well, we’d all planned a bit of cake and gift giving, but since you were called out and we were not sure who would be here when you returned, we decided I should keep all of your birthday gifts in one spot for you.”
Angela continued amicably, but Fareeha had stopped fully listening, at least until Angela took notice of her silence.
“Dear...what’s wrong?”
“I..I’m sorry.” She felt frustration with herself, with everything from the last week suddenly rise from within her without any warning. It threatened to spill over, and her eyes burned and her fingers closed into fists with fighting to maintain a semblance of control. “I’m sorry I’ve ruined my birthday celebration plans.”
“Fareeha.” In a the blink of an eye, Angela was cupping her face, blue eyes concerned and refusing to allow Fareeha to look away and find shameful solace in the floor. “Darling, you didn’t ruin anything. The plans were all for your enjoyment, but we all know we can’t choose when duty calls. I can assure you that everyone still very much wants to wish you a proper happy birthday, me most of all.”
“Pretty late birthday now…” Fareeha muttered, unable to keep the bitter sarcasm from washing through her tone. She dropped her gaze after the words left her lips, even more upset with herself now.
Of course Angela cared. Of course everyone cared. Of course what was said made sense. She needed to be an adult about this and stop moping.
“Fareeha.”
When she glanced up at Angela this time, she was half expecting the lecture she knew she well deserved on needing to lighten up or at least to just rest and have a fresh mindset come morning. Instead, Angela seemed to pause on her words, some sort of invisible clockwork running behind her bright eyes.
Then...
“Will you let me do something to celebrate you being back, at least?” Angela raised her eyebrows in suggestion.
Yet sex when she felt so mentally strained and frazzled was the furthest thing from Fareeha’s mind, and she instinctively balked at the idea. What sort of bedmate would she even make right now? Really, she was better off just collapsing into the sheets and trying to sleep away her terrible mood until morning.
She was so busy trying to come up with a polite but still clear excuse for herself that she nearly started when Angela tentatively grabbed her hand.
Her face and voice alike were gentle when she spoke. “Fareeha, I know I specialize more in the fluorescent lights and numbers and prescriptions sort of medicine, but I do know a thing or two outside of my speciality field. Let me do something to help you relax, please?”
It was the ‘please’ that melted down the last of Fareeha’s protests, particularly when she saw Angela point with her chin toward the bottle of lavender-scented massage oil sitting on the night table. Not what Fareeha had assumed after all, and now it made her a bit sheepish. Being this mentally and physically exhausted made it hard to make sense of what was best or not for herself; even so, she could recognize enough to see and trust that Angela only wanted to help.
So she peeled out of her dusty travel clothes piece by piece, clinically discarding them aside before finally laying face-down on the mattress with a heavy sigh.
This was not at all how she’d wanting anything to do with her birthday to go. She only absentmindedly heard Angela light a scented candle.
What a terrible birthday. Not that it was her birthday anymore. Now that she was back she wasn’t even any good company to be around. Instead after waiting around for Fareeha to return, Angela had to deal with her girlfriend being surly and self-centered and—
Fareeha’s spiralling thoughts were interrupted when Angela’s hands came up toward her face. She jerked with surprise for a moment, caught off guard at the items Angela held out toward her: the sleeping mask Fareeha liked to use on the rare occasion she did choose to stay in bed well past sunrise, and then two small, wireless earbuds.
“Easy, just put these in, put on your mask, and don’t worry about having to talk with me or focus on anything for now.” When Fareeha paused with uncertainty, Angela proffered them closer, continuing. “And if you fall asleep, dear, then it’s fine. You deserve a rest.”
As soon Fareeha put the earbuds in, they cancelled out the static and stress of the world with an easy and tuneless melody that made it that much easier for her to slip on her sleeping mask and bury her face back into the pillows a second later.
For a second, she nearly could drown out the chitter of her own mind.
Then Angela’s warm, oil coated hands pressed against her. She didn’t waste time, and immediately began kneading her fingers and knuckles with a surprising surety into the myriad of knots that lay tangled up in Fareeha’s shoulders and back. A hiss of pain at first escaped Fareeha, and her body tensed instinctively and protectively against the treatment. She clenched her hands, and as Angela continued, undeterred, the pain began to give way, the knots loosening under a persistent and knowing touch. She worked across one shoulder to the other, down Fareeha’s back, over her thighs and to her calves. The knots gave way, her tired body now grateful instead.
Fareeha allowed herself a satisfied moan as Angela persuaded her resistant muscles to at last relax, though her own sound of thanks was drowned beneath the music playing steadfastly in her ears.
The scented candle, the darkness of the sleeping mask, the music, and the systematic massage of lavender oil into her aching muscles all lulled Fareeha into a deep, drowsy calm, slowly pushing away everything from the past week. For the first time in too long, she felt languid, relaxed in a hazy, unhurried sort of way.
Angela’s hand slipped around her front, slippery with oil, to touch her chest, almost casually massaging until her nipples grew hard and strained. Fareeha stretched and groaned, digging her toes into the sheets. Her back arched and she pressed her face further into her forearms, drowsily waiting for more.
For a moment, there was nothing. Then the mattress dipped and shifted as Angela must have put her weight fully on the bed. Knees pushed in between Fareeha’s legs—Angela settling herself there.
She felt Angela’s fingers slide over her back, the curve of her butt, and then dip down toward the junction of her thighs. Fareeha spread her legs a hair wider and breathed in, hearing only the sound of her own breathing echoing beneath the music.
Angela’s fingers pressed between Fareeha’s legs, neither teasing nor hard, but almost more curious and probing, and Fareeha sucked in a gasp. There was no question about how wet she was now, and she squirmed as Angela parted her lips, drew two fingertips over her clit, and then circled briefly around her entrance. But then Angela was pulling her hand away, and the absence of her struck Fareeha with sharp desire even through the haze of lethargy.
She wanted Angela to touch her, wanted her to do it without Fareeha having to roll over and tell her that, without having to do or say anything. Yet it was as though Angela knew just that, knew not to break the spell she seemed to have cast.
Fareeha gasped when teeth gently bit her ear, and then Angela began touching her.
The motions were slow and languorous, little in the way of urgency or hurry from Angela. Her touch seemed to match the same atmosphere of the massage, but instead coupling the earlier relaxation to careful, deliberate arousal. It was feeding more tinder that to the fire that Fareeha had not even realized Angela was nursing to life in her until it was already smoking and burning.
Fareeha could feel the moment Angela dipped a finger inside of her; only one, though, and only in just enough to curl her finger at the first joint and slowly stroke the sensitive nerves there. A kiss pressed to the small of her back, and she could feel the low hum vibrate through Angela’s lips and against her spine, and whined with unspoken need.
Angela instead pulled her finger out, and gave one last, gentle stroke across the length of Fareeha’s sex.
The absence of her touch only lasted a second.
Angela’s hands moved to grip her hips lightly, applying just enough pressure to draw Fareeha’s pelvis upward until she was on her knees instead, face still and forearms still buried into the pillow. Legs slightly spread, vision and sight alike denied by the sleeping mask and music, Fareeha waited.
The air rasped against her throat, and her heartbeat thrummed in her chest. She swallowed, waiting, wanting.
The first touch against her was the cool, inhuman press of plastic, and Fareeha’s abdomen clenched in response, her breath coming in a fraction shorter and heavier.
Angela’s birthday wasn’t so far gone in the past that Fareeha had forgotten about the last time that particular toy had been brought out...or the teasingly vague promise Angela had delivered along with it. In fact, it had been something Fareeha had thought about more than once leading up to her own birthday—until duty had called and left her thoughts in a black mood even upon getting back today.
Of course, her original protest about not being in the mood for sex now seemed like a distant memory of its own.
Fareeha sucked in a breath when the head of the strapon pushed against her entrance just a hair harder, and for a moment she felt her legs shake with anticipation and want. Sweat started to bead at the back of her neck.
How on earth had she been so preoccupied before to think that she had no interest in this?
The fleeting question was just as soon forgotten, too, when Angela very, very slowly pushed the strapon in. More and more, filling Fareeha up until suddenly she registered Angela’s hip pressed flush against her. Angela held there, reaching down for a moment to play with Fareeha’s clit again, before then slowly pulling back, until only just the head of the toy remained inside Fareeha.
Only when Fareeha finally gave a choked groaned did Angela begin.
Much like her earlier touch, Angela seemed in no hurry. She kept one hand steady on Fareeha’s hip, while the other casually wandered—teasing with a nipple, rounding the curve of a sensitive ear, drawing her nails slowly down Fareeha’s exposed back, calling up shudder after shudder until Fareeha was certain her own skin was a rippling and shaking mess. And all the while, Angela pumped her hips in and out of Fareeha, a controlled and achingly slow motion.
In and out. Slowly in, slowly out, making Fareeha’s breath come in increasingly clipped and sharp sounds at the pleasurable but agonizingly passive pace of it.
“A-Angela…” The name formed around her lips, though she couldn’t even hear it spoken for the music that continued playing in her ears.
A pressure grew in her abdomen, delicious and tight and deep, much more pronounced than what Fareeha had ever experienced before. She felt cold, shivers running across her skin from the crown of her brow down to her toes curled into the sheets; but she was burning up, heat rising like lava from deep in her gut and running through her blood like wildfire now.
Something left her throat, a wordless sound, guttural and without any meaning. All she was certain of was that she wanted more. She needed more. And this slow torture was not enough.
There was only the briefest of pauses to signal it.
Then both of Angela’s hands were back at Fareeha’s hips, and Fareeha could feel the nails digging into her skin there, mimicking how her own nails now bit into the skin of her palms.
The pace changed accordingly and immediately. It increased in tempo until Fareeha was balling her fisted hands into the sheets, crudely and desperately moving herself into Angela’s rough thrusts. The pressure was building inside of her, like a great ocean wave trying to crest. Building higher, higher, pulling everything into it until it towered over all else and Fareeha could have cried for the want of release.
But it wasn’t enough, and another sound noise past her lips in a mix of frustration and sheer need.
As if sensing as much, one of Angela’s hands left Fareeha’s hip only to reach around and, without pausing in her thrusts, stroke Fareeha’s swollen clit.
That last stimulation was enough to finally push her over the edge, and Fareeha came with a wordless exclamation, writhing down into the mattress even as her backside still instinctively bucked into Angela for more.
Angela moved into her a few more times, drawing out more powerful shudders from her orgasm before gently and fully pulling back. Fareeha let the aftershocks of her climax continue to wash through her as she lay against the mattress. Her heartbeat thudded loudly in her ears even over the still-playing music, and she squeezed her eyes shut within the darkness of the sleeping mask, trying to calm her racing breath.
She could feel the bed dip again as Angela presumably moved to lay down next to her, but she didn’t interrupt Fareeha’s process of regaining herself.
Another few, more regular breaths, and then Fareeha pushed herself up onto her elbows at last, removing the ear buds and pulling off the sleeping mask. The dim light of the bedroom seemed blindingly bright at first, and she had to blink rapidly, previously numbed senses now reacclimating to the world that surrounded her. She brushed back the sweat-slicked stray strands of hair that she could feel matted against her face, and then sucked in a deep breath only to let it out in a whoosh of air. Finally, she rolled over toward Angela, feeling a sore but pleasant ache between her legs.
Even if everything had started slow, they had ended on quite the opposite note, and Fareeha had a sneaking suspicion she was going to feel more later.
She wrapped her arms around her girlfriend, taking the moment to rest her head in the curve of Angela’s neck and shoulder. Angela had already discarded the toy, and sighed happily against her. She hummed as they rested against one another.
After a long minute, Angela pulled away to turn onto her side and press a kiss to Fareeha’s forehead. She looked a particular sort of pleased. “Feeling any better from before?”
Fareeha let out a choked laugh at that. All of the earlier stress and frustration from the mission was now lost to the past. Leave it to Angela to manage something that had seemed impossible only hours earlier.
Angela hummed for a long moment.
“I enjoyed how vocal you were, love.”
Fareeha felt an entirely different sort of heat rush into her face. She had known she was making noise, but with the sound-cancelling ear buds playing music the entire time, she’d had no idea just how loud or not she was being.
Angela being Angela, she cut off any chance at self-consciousness by leaning in and kissing Fareeha squarely on the lips.
“It made me happy...knowing that you were enjoying what I was doing. Unless I was wrong on that?”
Fareeha wrapped her arms around her girlfriend tighter, recalling her own earlier and stubborn insistence that she wasn’t ‘in the mood’. She could appreciate even more now just how much Angela had seen through that, recognizing both the right way to both relax her, and to help her enjoy something new.
“Thank you for that. I...I suppose I needed this.”
Angela’s eyes glinted wickedly for a moment. “The massage, or the sex? Or the belated happy birthday wishes?”
Fareeha huffed, rolling her eyes before pushing herself up from the bed. Sore and tired or not…
In one smooth and practiced motion, she picked up Angela from the bed, grinning at the arms that immediately snaked around her neck. She readily obliged the kiss that Angela leaned up for.
“Come on, doctor. Time for a shower before bed.”
Then she walked into the bathroom with her girlfriend.
It was good to be home.