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“You know,” Lisa whispers, head resting on Carla’s shoulder as the sky lights up in shades of green and blue — not red. “My mum used to say that fireworks were magic. One tiny little spark has the ability to light up the whole sky for a moment.”
She’s not sure why that thought has even come to her mind. This is the happiest day of her life, her mind shouldn’t be flitting back to her mother at a time like this.
Her mother, who hadn’t even bothered to RSVP, let alone show up.
Carla hums in response, entirely transfixed by the way each firework whistles on its ascent to the sky, then explodes in front of her eyes. “Mm, she were right, weren’t she?” Carla drawls, eyes never leaving the scene in front of her. “Rob and me used to watch them from my bedroom window on bonfire night. Never went out for it, not when we were kids at least. My mam was usually off earning a living on her back or off her face on Ketamine, too busy to take us to owt like that.”
She’s so brazen when she speaks about her childhood, but Lisa knows that deep down there’s a part of her that’s still mourning for everything she missed out on as a kid. She well and truly lucked out with her upbringing, that’s for sure.
“I’m sorry,” Lisa replies sadly.
“Not your fault,” Carla shrugs one shoulder, keeps the one that Lisa’s head’s resting on still. “It is what it is, innit?” Then she steps carefully to the side to dislodge Lisa from her position and turns to face her.
Her baby. The love of her life. Her wife.
Lisa turns to face her too, and Carla reaches one hand out, palm-up, for Lisa to take. When she does, she steps in closer so she’s back in Lisa’s personal space and pushes a tendril of loosely curled hair behind her ear.
“I might’ve had a rough start in life,” she begins, stroking her knuckles down the line of Lisa’s jaw. When she gets to her chin, she rests her knuckles beneath it and presses the pad of her thumb to Lisa’s bottom lip. “But I reckon right here, right now… I’ve won the life lottery.”
Lisa’s heart swells in her chest, which is developing a pretty pink flush at Carla’s words. Carla catches it in her peripheral vision, and she can’t help dropping her gaze to admire the view of her cleavage, exposed and embellished by a litany of pretty pearls.
“Me too,” Lisa’s eyes fill with tears at the sincerity in Carla’s tone.
They’re here.
They made it.
They’re married.
“Can I tell you something?” Carla drawls, eyes still fixated on Lisa’s chest.
“Course. Anything.” Lisa swallows thickly and follows Carla’s gaze.
Carla brings her hand up to the soft flesh of Lisa’s breast and traces the pad of her thumb over the dark freckle that sits just on the cusp of the dip. “I’m a little bit obsessed with this.” She presses it with her thumb then caresses it gently.
Lisa smiles and shakes her head. She’s always hated that freckle - never really understood why it had to be there of all places. When she was younger it was the main reason she didn’t like wearing low-cut tops, but now it’s more just something she catches the odd glimpse of and sighs about.
“It’s awful.”
“It’s gorgeous,” Carla responds quickly. Then, as if to prove her point, she ducks her head and kisses it through the mesh of Lisa’s top. “Stunning, actually.”
Lisa hums quietly and allows her eyes to flutter closed at the feeling of Carla’s lips pressed to her skin. “Mm, do it again,” she whispers.
Just as Carla does, the sky lights up in a variety of shades of green.
“See?” Carla asks when she straightens back up. She leans forward and presses her forehead against Lisa’s then kisses her lips gently. “Perfect.”
Considering she’s spent the majority of her life detesting the very freckle that Carla seems to be quite happy worshipping, she’s suddenly doing a pretty good job of enjoying its presence. That’s the thing though, she supposes. Her previous partner, whose name shall not be mentioned, had spent almost the entirety of their marriage playing on her insecurities, making her feel small in herself and teaching her to shrink herself down until she fit inside the box that was presented to her.
But Carla? Her Carla? Her wife?
She spends every waking moment making sure that she knows exactly how she feels about her, exactly how much she loves her. She shows her that the parts of herself that she feels shame around - the tummy and thighs that she wishes would shrink a bit, the stretch marks and wrinkles that she’d give anything to wipe away, and the freckle that she’s spent her whole life hating - God, Carla worships them all.
Lisa’s been smiling like an idiot all day, but every time her wife compliments her, it grows somehow.
Her wife.
God, it still doesn’t feel real.
She snakes her hands around Carla’s waist and pulls her in impossibly close. Their hips bump together through the thick material of their wedding outfits, and Carla somehow manages to tactically wedge her thigh in between hers.
“You look so beautiful today,” Carla murmurs against Lisa’s lips. And Lisa knows she means it, knows without a shadow of a doubt that Carla has seen nothing else today except her. “Mrs Connor-Swain.”
Lisa’s eyes are trained on Carla’s lips now. They’re so close to her own that she can feel the warmth of her breath tickling her face in the cool April-evening air.
When Carla calls her by her new name, her tummy flips and twists so much that she’s sure Carla can feel it too.
“God, Mrs Connor-Swain,” Lisa breathes out. “That just made me feel all funny inside.”
“Me too,” Carla grins at her then grasps the back of her neck, digs her fingers in firmly, silently telling her mine.
And then they’re kissing on the factory balcony. Nothing else in the world matters in this moment; the fireworks continue to paint the sky, but neither of them pay them any attention as they lose themselves in one another. Carla’s lips glide with Lisa’s, like this is how they were always meant to be. She tightens her grip on her neck and tries to pull her in closer, but at some point she must realise that isn’t possible because in the end she settles for just holding her firmly where she is.
Their teeth clink together, Lisa grasps Carla’s bottom lip between her teeth and sucks on it hard, making Carla moan from somewhere deep in her throat.
“God,” Carla mumbles when she finally pulls back, breathing laboured and cheeks flushed. “You keep kissing me like that, Mrs Connor-Swain, and we’re going to be ending the night early.” She wiggles her eyebrows at Lisa and smirks, knowing full-well the effect all of this must be having on her too.
“Who says we have to end the night?” Lisa teases before she nudges Carla’s chin with her nose and pushes her head to the side. Carla doesn’t protest in any way, just allows Lisa to take what she wants. Lisa’s lips press lightly to the space just below where her jawline meets her ear, and something deep in the pits of her stomach coils tightly when they do.
“Lise, there’s a room full of people downstairs wanting to celebrate with us.” Carla doesn’t sound like she’s particularly convinced by her own argument.
So Lisa takes her shot.
“So?” She asks before she sinks her teeth into her pulsepoint and sucks, just hard enough to make Carla moan but not enough to mark her. Not yet, anyway.
Carla tries to keep her composure, she really does, but with Lisa’s tongue teasing at her pulsepoint and her teeth nipping at the sensitive skin, she doesn’t have much fight in her. When Lisa finally pulls back, her usually-green eyes are very nearly black.
“Detective Sergeant Connor-Swain, are you suggesting that we do… public indecency? On the balcony of my factory, when a bunch of our friends and family are downstairs?”
Lisa smirks and shakes her head. “No,” she says unconvincingly. “I’d never suggest a thing like that.”
Carla lets out a puff of air through her nose and hums.
Lisa tightens her grip on Carla’s hips and licks a hot stripe from where the lapel of her jacket sits against her collarbone, up the column of her throat, then kisses her lips roughly.
“I’m telling you… that’s what we’re doing.”
Before Carla has a chance to respond, Lisa pushes her backward. It isn’t rough at all, but Carla is pliant and soft and, quite frankly, will always do absolutely anything her wife wants her to do, even if that means allowing her to take the reigns that are usually hers once in a while, so she goes with it and allows Lisa to walk her backwards until her lower back bumps loudly against the metal railings.
She lets out a quiet ‘oof’ sound when she hits them, and Lisa smirks her way into another searing kiss.
“Think I like you in a suit,” Lisa husks against her lips, her breathing already becoming uneven. Carla’s lost all sense of where she is — who she is — when she feels the warmth of Lisa’s hand sneaking up inside her waistcoat. “A lot, actually.”
Carla practically purrs in response, keens into Lisa’s touch and loses herself in her wife.
It’s hardly the first time they’ve done this, far from it, but it’s the first time they’ve been alone together, the first time they’ve been able to have some intimacy between them since Lisa walked into the Chariot Square’s bar this afternoon and quite literally took her breath away. The bridal jumpsuit that she’s been adorning all day has had her mouth watering and her stomach coiling on more than one occasion.
Carla’s eyes fall to the door that they’d not long come through, she checks briefly that it’s still closed and no one’s about to barge in — out — on them, then allows herself to bask in the way Lisa’s cupping her breasts through her thin, lacy white bra.
She’d intended to keep it a surprise for later, but that’s that one out the window.
Lisa rubs the pads of her thumbs over Carla’s nipples, and she’s delighted to feel that they’re already hard. “Mrs Connor-Swain,” she rasps. “You are something else.”
It’s not very often that Lisa takes the lead, they both like it that way, but when she does… God, does she put on a show.
“Mm, look who’s talking.” Lisa pinches her nipple, keeps teasing at the other, then tugs on it gently. Carla tries her best to keep quiet, is well aware that anyone could be walking around the street below them, but she can hardly bring herself to care when Lisa’s mouth is on hers again.
Then Lisa strokes her way back down, grips tightly at the flesh of her hips before she brings her hands to the button on her suit trousers.
She fumbles with it for a moment — it’s stiff and new, but it pops open after a couple of attempts and reality sets in for Carla that her wife is about to fuck her on her factory balcony on their wedding night, and she feels herself getting wetter by the second at the thought of it. Lisa doesn’t waste any time in pulling the zip down, and then before Carla can protest she’s cupping her cunt through the delicate lace of her knickers.
The moan that Lisa lets out when she touches her tells Carla exactly how wet she is, and just how much Lisa appreciates it. “Fuck—” Lisa gasps when she feels her, feels what she’s done to her. “God, Carla, I need to have my mouth on you.”
An inferno spreads through Carla’s veins at that. It’s one thing for Lisa to fuck her on the balcony, but to get on her knees? Well, that’s quite another.
“Baby,” Carla whines. Lisa traces her finger lightly across the ruined lace, presses firmly against her clit, then drags her finger back to her opening. “Stop teasing, we’ve not got long.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Just you wait until I get you home, missus,” Carla warns her, but she doesn’t come across as particularly threatening given that her legs are trembling and she’s starting to rut herself against Lisa’s finger. “Go inside.”
Despite trying to be all big and in charge, Lisa can’t help obeying orders. She drags her fingers up the wet lace then slips her hand inside the waistband. Lisa moans and Carla cries out when her fingers come into contact with her dripping core, and it takes Lisa only a second to press one, then two fingers inside her.
“Mmfh— fuck, Lise…” Carla pants, tangling her fingers in Lisa’s hair at the back of her head where it’s started to come loose. She feels her legs turning to jelly and wraps her thigh around Lisa’s waist to hold herself up, but more importantly to hold her closer. “More.”
Lisa does as she’s told almost immediately, slips a third finger in and anchors her elbow against her hip. She thrusts slowly, deeply inside Carla until she’s panting into her mouth. Carla’s hands trail down to the back of Lisa’s neck and grip her there tightly, her short, freshly manicured nails biting into her skin sharply.
Lisa’s hips roll rhythmically. She scissors her fingers, stretches her open, then curls them inside her to hit the spot that always drives her crazy. Carla’s breathing stutters, and it’s clear to Lisa that she’s trying desperately hard to keep herself quiet, but Lisa just sees it as a challenge.
She thrusts her hips hard, and Carla cries out.
“Keep quiet, darling,” she husks teasingly. “Half your staff are downstairs. Don’t want them to hear their boss being railed on the railings.”
If Lisa wasn’t knuckle deep inside her, Carla probably would’ve laughed, but she is so she doesn’t, instead she bites her bottom lip and nods in agreement.
“My clit,” Carla heaves out in between almost-silent whines. “Touch it.”
When the pad of Lisa’s thumb comes into contact with her aching bundle of nerves, Carla’s other leg very nearly gives out on her. She buckles, then grips onto Lisa’s shoulders for support. She tightens the thigh that’s wrapped around her wife, and Lisa wraps her free hand around it to help keep her up.
Lisa smirks and bites her lip, then adds more pressure to Carla’s clit and circles it in a broad, messy pattern.
She’s getting close already, can feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter in her stomach, but she’s not ready to finish just yet. Isn’t ready for this to end, and certainly isn’t ready to go back inside and pretend nothing happened.
She hasn’t had everything she wants yet anyway.
And as much as Lisa might think she’s in charge now, they both know deep down that Carla very much still holds all of the control.
Lisa’s fingers thrust inside her. They can both hear how wet she is, and all it does is spur them both on. A droplet of Carla’s arousal trickles down into Lisa’s open palm, and she absolutely desperate to withdraw and suck her own fingers clean before she carries on.
Eventually, when she can’t hold herself back anymore, Carla reluctantly, blindly, pushes Lisa’s hand away, and when she does Lisa stares at her incredulously. Lisa’s about to protest, to tell Carla that she’s not stopping until she’s done, but Carla pulls her hand up and wraps her lips around Lisa’s glistening fingers instead, muttering something barely coherent about let me taste.
She sucks on them, bobs her head and performs for Lisa, moaning quietly at the taste of her own arousal on her wife’s fingers. Lisa’s eyes flutter closed at the sensation, and she has to squeeze her own thighs together when Carla’s tongue swirls around the tips.
Carla hollows her cheeks and sucks hard, then slowly releases Lisa’s fingers with a wet pop. Lisa hooks them against her teeth as she withdraws, and it makes Carla emit a guttural moan.
When she does pull out of her mouth, they bask in the moment. Carla pulls Lisa into her by her hips and cranes her neck to kiss her again. Lisa pushes her tongue straight into Carla’s mouth and licks at her, enjoying the lingering taste of her on her lips.
When Carla pulls back, her eyes are almost black with want.
“On your knees, Mrs Connor-Swain,” she instructs her firmly, no room for arguments. “For me.”
Lisa sinks down like it’s her sole purpose in life.
And, she supposes, it is really.
To serve her. To worship her. To do any and everything she ever asks of her.
She doesn’t question it, doesn’t say anything about what if someone sees — she started this, after all, and now Carla’s going to make sure she finishes it.
She pulls Carla’s trousers and knickers down slightly, just enough to be able to get to where she needs to be, and Carla parts her legs that little bit further to allow Lisa enough room to settle between them.
The heady scent of arousal fills the space between her legs, and Lisa demonstrates absolutely zero restraint when she inhales deeply. She could, she thinks, quite happily spend the rest of her life on her knees for her wife, spend the rest of her days worshipping her with her mouth. Carla’s hand falls to the back of her head, and then she’s being pulled — guided — to where she really needs her.
Lisa covers Carla’s entire centre with her mouth, jaw slack and tongue loose as she does. She licks a hot line from Carla’s leaking opening, laps up the tiny droplets that she’s knows are there because of her, then latches her lips around her clit.
She sucks it — hard — and flicks her tongue over it teasingly.
Carla howls and ruts her hips into Lisa’s face.
And just for a moment, all she can think about is how crazy it is that this woman — this formidable, stubborn, complex, beautiful woman — has just promised to spend the rest of her life with her. She’s her wife. They’re married. She’s on her knees on the factory balcony, giving her wife head, and she can do this as many times as she likes. There’s no expiry date, no looming threat of the end, there is just them and their marriage.
Forever, please.
“Fuck, Lisa— God— fingers,” Carla instructs her deliriously, in between heaving breaths and gritted teeth, pulling Lisa from her musings. Lisa lines two fingers up with Carla’s weeping entrance and presses them inside her, curls them against the pillowy area inside her and presses against it in a way that’s so perfect, so well-done, that Carla’s vision whites-out. “God, baby, right there— such a good girl— so good for me.”
Carla’s babbling away, telling Lisa how good she is, how perfect and pretty she is, how incredible she is when she’s on her knees for her and Lisa’s lapping up every second of it. She doesn’t stop what she’s doing, no matter how much her chest is bubbling over with love for Carla. She keeps curling and uncurling her fingers, dragging breathy whines from her wife that make her want to fuck into her harder.
She flattens her tongue and lathes it over Carla’s clit, which is now throbbing, visibly pulsing against her. Carla’s hips roll downwards and she pulls Lisa’s head in closer by her hair as she loses herself in it.
The dam starts to splinter, slowly, before it breaks apart entirely.
Carla comes with a ferocity that Lisa doesn’t think she’s ever seen before. She curls her fingers once more and strokes them inside her. Carla’s hips buck and thrash against her mouth, but Lisa only sucks harder on her clit, encouraged by the way Carla’s completely losing it. She knows that if she stops now, if she loses her rhythm now, Carla’s orgasm will end abruptly and unsatisfyingly.
And that just won’t do.
Not for her wife.
Carla pants and swears loudly as her orgasm rolls through her like a tidal wave. Her hips go from rolling rhythmically to stuttering and jolting recklessly. She slams her eyes closed tight and pulls sharply at Lisa’s hair as it comes to a close, and when she’s finally finished, she allows the aftershocks to happily coarse through her.
“Fuck,” Carla pants as Lisa pulls away slowly, satisfied that she’s completely finished. “Well, no one warned me that sex gets so much better when you’re married.”
Lisa tips her head back laughing and pulls herself back up on the railings. She reaches down and pulls Carla’s trousers back up for her, buttons them up and tugs the zipper back into place, then kisses her softly. “You’ve been married six times, love.”
“Told you, I didn’t mean it before,” Carla smirks, then pulls Lisa into her by her hips. “This one’s the only one that matters.”
Lisa hums and leans into her, then kisses her deeply on the lips. Carla hums at the taste of herself, tongue rolling around Lisa’s mouth briefly, then wipes some of her come from Lisa’s top lip with the pad of her thumb.
They both look down at the same time and burst out laughing.
“Bit obvious what we’ve been doing, innit?” Carla teases as she looks at the dusty, black marks on Lisa’s knees. There’s no getting away from it, the jumpsuit is ruined.
“I mean, if they didn’t hear us anyway… yeah, pretty obvious.”
“Best think of a good excuse for why you’ve been on your knees then, missy. And you might want to fix your hair too, you look a little bit… freshly fucked.” Carla holds her hand out, inviting Lisa to take it. She does, gladly, and they walk back towards the door.
“Yes, boss.”