Making Love

by Aidan Wayne

  “I—I still hope I don’t mind it,” Carla said.

  Leeta quirked her lips. “Darling, that’s setting your hopes a bit low, don’t you think? Hope to enjoy it. Hope to get pleasure from it. But know that if you don’t, I’m still perfectly capable of pleasuring myself.”

  Carla was certain her face couldn’t get any hotter. But it was good that they were talking about this. It was important. That was how love matches turned into actual relationships. And . . . and she was really hoping that was what this could be.

  “How about this?” Leeta suggested. “We finish our breakfast, then go by my apartment, and then take a lovely, long walk. After, we can return to your place and bake what you’d like, and then . . . experiment a little.”

  “And kiss more,” Carla said, determined.

  Leeta laughed, low and soft. “Yes, Carla, we can most definitely do that.”

  The drive over to Leeta’s apartment was uneventful, and soon enough, she’d changed and they were out again. Leeta lived in a very nice area, and there was a beautiful park with walking paths quite close by. They’d done a lot of walking together when Carla was trying to find Leeta her match.

  “Do you think we might run into one of your friends this time?” Carla asked. Leeta had explained that she knew several other succubi and incubi who lived in the area, preferring to keep to themselves when they weren’t working.

  “Probably not. We’re late risers, since we often work through the night.”

  “But your art gallery is open during the day,” Carla said, confused.

  Leeta smiled at her. “And it’s a touch unusual for me to be working there. We tend to gravitate toward work in the nightlife. It’s easier to meet meals that way. Quite a few succubi and incubi are sex workers. It’s just simpler.”

  “Oh.” Carla thought about this. Then, tentatively, “Were, um . . . were you . . .?”

  “A sex worker?”

  “Is it okay to ask? I hope it’s okay! But I’ll leave it if it isn’t. Not that there’s anything wrong with—”

  “Yes,” Leeta said simply, cutting off Carla’s babbling. “I was. I was finding it tiresome. When I decided I would attempt to pursue a love match, I left it. That’s when I began to work for the gallery.”

  “Oh,” Carla said again. “That wasn’t that long ago, was it?”

  “No.”

  “And you like working for the gallery.” It wasn’t quite a question.

  “I do.”

  “Do you ever, um, miss your old job?”

  Leeta shrugged. “I miss certain aspects of it. Parts could be fun. I had a few coworkers I still keep in touch with. But, for me, it didn’t have a future. At least not the one I was hoping for.”

  Carla really wanted to hold Leeta’s hand. Then she remembered that she could and reached over, curling her fingers around Leeta’s own. “I’m glad you found something else you like doing,” she said shyly.

  Leeta smiled down at her. “Me too.”

  “Carla?”

  Carla spun around and looked up, where Tristan was flying, carrying a large blue binder. “Tristan! H-hello. You’re, um, you’re not at work!”

  “I was picking this up,” he said, hefting the binder. “Carla, you’re—” He looked from Carla, to Leeta, and Carla could see the moment where he took in their clasped hands. “You— This is why you haven’t been at work? You’ve been with her?”

  “I, well, um. Yes?”

  Tristan glared, and Carla actually took a step back. Then she realized he was glaring at Leeta.

  “You—you succubus.”

  Leeta’s fingers tightened around Carla’s. “Why, yes, I am. Ever observant, aren’t you?”

  Tristan turned purple. “Very funny. You know what isn’t a joke? Other people’s feelings.”

  “Tristan,” Carla said desperately, “Stop it. I— She’s my love match.”

  Tristan froze. “What?”

  “She’s my love match,” Carla said again. “I . . . She is. Please don’t . . .” She stopped, unsure of what to say.

  He stared at them both for a long, silent moment, while Carla’s stomach did flip-flops. Finally he visibly swallowed and clutched the binder close. “I have to get this back to Angel,” he said, and flew off without another word. And without letting Carla get one in.

  “Oh,” Carla said sadly, after he was gone.

  “I’m sorry,” Leeta murmured.

  “No, I—” She blinked back tears. “It’s okay. I’ll talk to him and explain everything and . . . he’ll understand. It’ll be fine. Tristan’s a cupid. He understands love. It’ll be okay.”

  “It will be,” Leeta said, lifting up Carla’s chin. “He’s your friend, and he cares about you. That’s all this is. He was being protective. I don’t begrudge him that, at least.”

  “Thank you.”

  Leeta smiled softly at her. “Would you like to keep walking?”

  Carla nodded vigorously.

  It’d be all right.

  The walk turned into lunch together at a café, and then back to Carla’s apartment for the promised baking of the chocolate torte, and Carla was having such a good time that she completely forgot to be nervous.

  They had dinner at Carla’s again, ordering in because while Carla liked to bake, cooking was much, much less her forte, then curled up together on the couch with a plate of torte each.

  “I like it,” Leeta said, after a taste.

  “Oh good! I was hoping you would. It’s pretty rich, so I wasn’t sure, but I thought you might like the dark chocolate.”

  “It’s very good,” Leeta assured her, taking another bite. “And you? Do you like it?”

  Carla nodded. It was a touch darker than she usually liked her chocolate, but the taste was definitely growing on her. “Mm-hmm,” she hummed around her fork. When she looked up again, Leeta was watching her with a peculiar expression on her face. Fondness, maybe. Carla smiled back. “Did—did you have a nice day? Was it what you wanted?”

  Leeta nodded. “Everything I wanted,” she said. “Even with . . .” She stopped. But Carla had had the whole day to work through her feelings about the meeting with Tristan.

  “I’ll talk to him,” Carla said, licking chocolate off her fork. “It will be fine. Tristan’s a cupid. He feels things very strongly, no matter what they are. But he’s also a good friend, and a good person. I’ll talk to him.” She knew Tristan. Once she actually calmed him down enough to explain everything, he really would understand.

  “Hmm.” Leeta didn’t sound convinced.

  Carla stuck out her lip. “Don’t you hmm me. I know exactly what I’m talking about! Who’s the cupid here?”

  Leeta laughed, and it was so nice to hear her laugh. “You are.”

  “And don’t you forget it!” Carla said, waving her fork before taking another big, chocolatey bite. Leeta was watching her again, eyes sparkling, and Carla tried not to feel self-conscious. Had that bite been too big?

  “May I kiss you?” Leeta asked, and that was not what Carla had been expecting to come out of those quirked lips. “When you’re finished eating?”

  “I can be finished!” Carla said, swallowing quickly and setting down her plate on the coffee table.

  Leeta laughed again. “No hurry,” she said. “I was just asking permission. You are very tempting.”

  “I . . . am?”

  Leeta reached out to grab Carla’s plate and set it back in Carla’s lap. “I enjoy watching you,” she said. “When you like something, you like it unabashedly. It’s very endearing.”

  Carla felt a little thrill at the compliment. Leeta found her endearing.

  Leeta was in love with her. And Carla could feel her own love pinging back to meet it. It made her feel very brave.

  She took one more bite, just to add extra courage and because it made Leeta smile that much brighter, thought over her words while she ate, and then said, “I’d like it if you kissed me. I’d like that a lot.”

  Leeta beam
ed, there was no other word for it, and shifted closer to her on the couch, curling one hand around Carla’s back and drawing her forward. This time Carla pressed in close. Leeta tasted like cinnamon and chocolate, and for several long moments it was just the sweet slide of lips and tongues, and Carla felt herself get very warm, but in a good way.

  She smiled dopily at Leeta when they parted, having pulled Leeta almost entirely into her lap. Leeta’s tail was curled around her back. Carla liked the feeling of Leeta wound around her and leaned in again to suck at her neck, thrilling at Leeta’s breathy sounds, the clench of her hands on Carla’s back, underneath her wings.

  They were both flushed when Carla pulled away again, and she found herself a little mesmerized by the heave of Leeta’s chest. And she was still feeling brave. “Could I—could I kiss you more?” Carla asked.

  Leeta pecked her on the lips, the cheek. “We can do anything you want, darling.”

  Emboldened and heady from the kissing, Carla carefully reached for the strap of Leeta’s sundress and started to tug it down. “Is—is this okay?” she whispered, looking up to meet Leeta’s eyes.

  Leeta swallowed and nodded. “Whatever you want,” she said again, attention rapt. “Here, let me—”

  She twisted in Carla’s lap and oh that felt—good, something she wanted again, and then Leeta was pulling her sundress down lower, unclasping and shucking her bra, exposing two perfect breasts, with dusky, peaked nipples. Carla’s mouth started to water.

  “Can I?” she asked, but she was already moving forward, Leeta pulling her close. “Tell me what you like,” Carla said, before she closed her mouth around one nipple.

  Leeta gasped. “I like that,” she said, voice breathy, and that was all for Carla and what Carla was doing. It felt amazing. “If you suck harder, I’ll like it even more.” Carla dutifully did as she was told, flicking her tongue out in experimentation and being rewarded with another gasp. “Yes, just like that. Carla.” Leeta’s hands roamed up and down her back, stroking her wings, and then came to rest on the hem of Carla’s shirt, rubbing there as if asking permission.

  “Please,” Carla said, pulling back, wanting to feel Leeta’s hands on her skin. “You can touch me too. I want—I want that.”

  “Do you like this?” Leeta murmured, as she slipped her hands underneath Carla’s shirt. Carla nodded.

  “Would you like me to touch you too?” she asked, voice so gentle. “Your chest?”

  Carla squeezed her eyes shut and nodded. She really, really did. She wanted so much.

  “Carla? Carla, look at me?”

  Carla opened her eyes. Leeta was watching her carefully.

  “You have to tell me what you want, Carla. What you like. Just talk to me, all right? This is all at your pace.”

  “I—I want to feel you,” Carla said, her most pressing need.

  Leeta smiled, hands coming back down to play at the hem of Carla’s shirt. “Would you like to take this off?”

  “Yes.”

  “Would you like me to do it, or would you like to?”

  Carla’s shirts all tended to be open-backed or have zips to allow for her wings, and this one was no exception. It had a zip, and Carla reached behind herself to undo it and pull it off. Then, smiling hesitantly at Leeta, she took off her own bra as well, letting it fall to the floor.

  “Lovely,” Leeta said, and Carla felt herself flush with pleasure. “May I touch you?”

  “Please,” Carla said, already leaning forward again. “Oh please.”

  The next morning, Carla woke up to a face full of straight black hair, having curled around Leeta in her sleep, hugging her from behind. They were both naked, and Carla’s breasts were pressed against Leeta’s back. She wanted to giggle at it all. It had been so nice. Leeta was so wonderful.

  She’d been so careful. Careful and kind, and maybe, sometimes, just that side of tentative.

  It turned out that Carla might not have cared much about sex in general, but being intimate with someone she really cared about was very, very different.

  It had been so nice.

  But Carla’s leave was over today. She was up this early because she had reports to type and observations to list and then she had to go into work. See what Angel thought of her “self-study” and if it had done any good. Carla thought it had. She really, finally was starting to understand what True Love meant, not just how it looked, or how it sounded in a story. Even with watching her parents, she’d missed the development of it, the embryonic stage where it burst forth into life.

  Now, with Leeta, she understood. What chemistry was and why it was so important. How it could make things last, with the proper communication.

  Carla wasn’t sorry that she was going back to work today. She was excited and sure. More sure of anything in her life. This was it. She was going to do it. She was going to be a proper cupid and really be able to make love matches come true.

  That thought finally propelled her to get out of bed and into the shower. Then she got dressed in the frilliest, happiest outfit she owned, and spent a ridiculous amount of time coaxing her hair into shaped bows. By the time she was finished getting ready and was tap-tap-tapping away on her report, Leeta was stirring.

  “Good morning,” Leeta said, rolling over to look at Carla and crossing her arms under her bare breasts. “You look very special.”

  Carla grinned. “Good morning! It’s a special day, don’t you think? Did you sleep well?”

  Leeta nodded and sat up, stretching. “Mmm, very well. A full stomach will do that to you.”

  Carla beamed. “Was it good?”

  “Delicious. I haven’t eaten that well in ages.” Leeta slid over to where Carla was seated, fingers curling underneath her chin as she ducked down for a quick kiss. “Or enjoyed myself so much.”

  “I’m glad,” Carla said, suddenly feeling shy. “I’m glad you liked it.”

  “And you? Did you like it?”

  Carla stuck out her tongue. Leeta had only asked her that question about a zillion times last night. “Yes,” she said simply. “A lot. Just like I told you before.”

  “Nothing wrong with making sure,” Leeta said, tone pleased. She kissed Carla again before pulling back. “I’m going to go take a shower.”

  “Of course! Towels and a robe are already there,” Carla said. She closed her laptop. “I’ll go start your tea for you.”

  “Thank you, darling.”

  Carla was more than a little nervous when she flew into work. Not only because of her meeting with Angel, but because, well, Tristan. They hadn’t talked at all since yesterday, and Carla had planned to call him, but then she’d been busy with Leeta and—and—

  Tristan had a prejudice, and it wasn’t Leeta’s fault, and Carla was happy, and oh, she just wanted Tristan to understand that!

  Tristan was hovering anxiously above the desk when Carla flew in. He was gnawing on a square of peanut brittle, the kind that took effort to chew. The kind you ate when you were worried and needed to occupy yourself with something sweet.

  “Um,” Carla said, by way of greeting.

  “I’m sorry,” Tristan blurted out immediately. “I, uh, I thought about it some more. And it’s not my business, but if—if you really think you’ve found love, then I should be happy for you. I am happy for you. Because love is—love is . . .” He bit off another corner of the brittle. “And I’ll—I’ll try to be nice, because you deserve that, and maybe I was a little judgmental in the beginning anyway and—”

  “Tristan.”

  He froze. “Yes?”

  Carla smiled. “I forgive you.”

  He sagged, plopping back down into his chair. “Oh good. I was worried I really ruined something. I just— You’re my friend, and I worry about you, and I guess that I do have some species-ist in me, and I’m trying really hard to stop—” He bit into the brittle with a crack, and Carla laughed.

  “It’s okay,” she said. “Maybe we can meet for lunch, and I can tell you just why I’m h
appy.”

  “I’d like that,” Tristan said. “And, uh. Maybe you can, um. Apologize to Miss Absinthe for me? Or I could. I will. If she—if she makes you happy.”

  Carla blushed and grinned brightly. “She really, really does.”

  The intercom went off just then, startling both of them, and Tristan hurried to answer.

  “Hello? Oh! Yes, I’m sorry! She’ll be right in!” He hung up. “Angel’s ready for you!”

  “Oh, right!” Carla shook her head. She’d almost forgotten how nervous she was. “Okay! I’ll—I’ll just . . . go, then!”

  Tristan smiled at her. “Don’t worry.” He nodded toward the door. “I think you’ll like the news.”

  Carla took a deep breath and then flew to the door, pushed it open, and headed inside.

  “Good morning, Carla.” Angel smiled at her from behind the desk.

  “Good morning! I’m, um, I’m sorry about the wait.”

  Angel’s smile didn’t waver. “I’m sure you and Tristan had something important to talk about.”

  Carla swallowed. Angel definitely knew.

  But Carla’d been allowed to go on leave anyway. And Angel was smiling, now that she was back.

  “Carla,” Angel said, hands folded. “I wanted to talk to you about Aphrodite Agency’s nondiscrimination policy.”

  “Um,” Carla said, wings fluttering nervously. “All right.”

  “As you know, we strive to uphold the idea that love is for anyone and everyone is capable of it, regardless of sex, gender, or species.”

  “Yes?”

  “And based on your reports, it seems that, contrary to all of our prior knowledge, incubi and succubi can now be added to the list of species capable of love.”

  “Oh? Oh!” Carla nodded vigorously, so much that her hair bows bobbled. “Yes! Yes, while it seems as though it’s a rarer phenomenon, what with them being an aromantic species on the whole, it looks as though romantic Sparks might be found in as many as one percent of all succubi and incubi. Statistically, that’s right around how many aromantic people exist in the world of the romantically inclined. Which is a pretty big number!”