Finding Home

by Sarah Collins

  Dylan exaggeratedly pats her stomach. “I gotta admit…you have a true scrambled egg convert over here now.”

  Naomi laughs softly. Her dark eyes bore into Dylan’s, like she’s looking in her very soul. “I’m glad you liked it.”

  After lingering around to finish their beers and chat about their old school experiences, more of their family life, and shared love of dogs, they clean up their outdoor dining space. It’s quick, another vanlife perk, and they make room to sit on the van floor where they can still see the remnants of the setting sun through the open side door.

  “Want another beer?” Dylan opens her mini fridge. “I have some tequila, vodka, or plain ole soda if you want that too.”

  Naomi demurely bites her lip. “Beer. If you don’t mind.”

  “Of course not,” Dylan replies, smiling. “I have enough in here to serve a small army. And it’s not like you’re driving or anything.”

  “Thank god for that.” Naomi takes the bottle, noting how it’s a different craft flavor than the last. “Are you a beer junkie or something?”

  “You could say that, I guess.” Dylan sits back on the van floor, her legs dangling out the side door. “More of a collector really. I love nabbing cool things from all the places I go. Beer, stickers…the occasional rock.” She laughs. “I’m sure that sounds lame, but I enjoy it.”

  “I don’t think that sounds lame at all. I’d actually like to see your collection sometime,” Naomi quietly says. “If you’d let me.”

  “Seriously?”

  Naomi nods. “I love seeing what makes people…people. If that makes sense?”

  “Yeah. I get what you mean.” Dylan takes a swig of her beer, pausing for a moment. “Be right back.”

  Dylan digs around under the passenger seat of her van, finally landing on a smooth wooden box. It’s covered in stickers from Maine to California, and almost everywhere in between. She brings it out, handing it to Naomi as she sits.

  “This is so neat,” Naomi says, fingering the stickered coating. “Do you mind if I look inside?”

  “Go ahead,” she nods towards it. “Nothing too embarrassing should be in there. Not that box, anyway.”

  Naomi lightly laughs. “Good one.”

  She opens the box to see it filled to the brim with an assortment of multi-colored rocks, dried flowers, stickers too big to for the outside of the box, shreds of fabric, misfit jewelry, and random postcards. She delicately flips through the items, pulling them out and studying each one before settling on a light pink rock edged with flecks of silver. It’s the size of a quarter, and feels light in her hand as she turns it over and over.

  “One of my favorites,” Dylan admits. “I picked that up on an Apache reserve in Arizona. It might be the only rock I’ve ever paid for actually.”

  Naomi smiles. “It’s beautiful. Do you think it’s real?”

  “They told me it’s a rose quartz. I know that’s not rare or anything, but I like to think it brings me some good karma every now and then.”

  Naomi drags her eyes up Dylan’s body, from her brown hiking boots, past her long, lean legs, over her small breasts, and up to her strong-jawed, statuesque face. Her lips tug upwards. “I can agree with that.”

  “Oh yeah,” Dylan teases, surprised at the deepness of her own voice. Things are taking a turn from innocence, and they can both sense it hovering in the air around them.

  “Yeah,” Naomi answers, her voice just as languid. “But I could see myself agreeing with you about a lot of things.”

  Dylan finds herself leaning closer to the other woman, like a magnet pulled towards another of its own accord. “And what would those be?”

  “I think we’d agree on how perfect your home is,” Naomi starts, glancing around the interior of the van briefly. “We’d agree on how great tonight has been so far.”

  “True,” Dylan answers, leaning closer still. Her eyes lock with Naomi’s brown ones. “What else?”

  “I think we’d agree,” Naomi leans closer now too. Her eyes flick to Dylan’s full, thick lips. “That you want to kiss me right now.”

  Dylan feels her face go hot. She does want that. Of course she fucking does! But she decides to play it cool. She smirks and runs her hand through her short hair. “Oh, do I?”

  “Uh huh,” Naomi responds. Without hesitation, she places her hand on the short hair at the back of Dylan’s head, easily closing the tiny distance between them. “So go ahead and kiss me.”

  Naomi holds nothing back—neither words nor emotions. But damn, if it isn’t the perfect cocktail for Dylan to get drunk on. She leans in slowly, only stopping to hover millimeters from Naomi’s mouth. Her mouth is plump and lush, only a tad darker and thicker than her own.

  Their lips finally meet, warm and wet and it quickly feels like the best adventure Dylan has ever been on. Her tongue finds a home in Naomi’s mouth, tasting the sweetness of beer lingering there. They collide effortlessly, perfectly. Two mouths meld into one; teeth and tongue and taste indistinguishable.

  The collection box is pushed to the side, discarded, so Naomi can pull herself even closer. Their sides touch, thighs pressed against one another. Warmth radiates between them, starkly contrasting with the cooling night air. One hand roams around in Dylan’s dark hair, the other grabs at the hip of her white t-shirt.

  Dylan, emboldened now, touches the soft skin of Naomi’s bare knee, right at the hem of her dress. The other cups Naomi’s warm neck, interlocking them in a fiery frenzy. Tongues taste, teeth nip, lips suck and tug at each other. Dylan just cannot get enough of that taste; Naomi gives it freely and fully.

  Dylan is the first to pull back for a breath. “Wow,” she utters, awestruck and goofy grin on her face. She’s starting to think that’s their favorite word.

  “Wow,” Naomi repeats. A light blush coats her skin, from face to chest. “I knew there was something about you.”

  Dylan licks her lips. She doesn’t know what Naomi means by that exactly, but she understands it in her own way. When they met at the parking lot of the diner, something told her they’d meet again. And damn, she’s glad they did.

  She softly kisses Naomi again. It’s intoxicating. Again and again and again until Naomi leans back slightly.

  “Can we shut the door?” Naomi asks softly. “I don’t know how you usually are with random girls in your van, but I prefer a little privacy.”

  “For one,” Dylan starts, “I don’t do this often. Two, hell yes we can.”

  They stand, and she easily shuts and locks the door from the inside. When she turns around, Naomi has already draped herself across the full-size bed, barefoot and hair splayed across the comforter. Her dress bunched up in the transition, showing more of her smooth thighs than before.

  Dark, hooded eyes beckon Dylan over. “Well,” Naomi finally says, “Are you coming?”

  I hope so, she thinks, but doesn’t dare be so crass out loud (yet).

  With two steps, she’s standing at the edge of her bed. Pillows dot the edges, adding even more privacy and comfort to the space. She kicks off her boots quickly before crawling over to hover above the incredibly beautiful woman in her bed. Beautiful, interesting, and creative woman no less. God, she feels really fucking lucky right now.

  She looks down on Naomi, studying her even more than before. Her shoulder-length, wavy hair nestles smoothly around her head. Dark, round eyes accentuate a slim nose that turns up oh, so barely at the tip. Her lips look like a heart, pink and plump—perfect for kissing. She has a shallow cleft in her chin so small that it’s almost inconceivable. Her cheekbones look far-off Native American, something Dylan recognizes in her own face. She wants to ask if they share the same ethnic background, but now, with said woman under her own body, just seems like the absolute worst fucking time to get into heritage conversations.

  Naomi pulls her down for another kiss. Their hips and breasts touch, only guarded by thin cloth.

  “You sure?” Dylan scans the beautiful face below her. “That
you want to do this?”

  The smile that overtakes Naomi’s face is downright sinful.

  “Just kiss me already,” she whispers, grabbing Dylan’s white t-shirt and pulling her down for their lips to reacquaint themselves again.

  The underlying taste, like the fresh honeysuckles from the Oregon coast, keeps Dylan going back for more. Never in her life has she tasted a kiss so pure, so sweet, that she can’t bring herself to stop. Her arms shake slightly from holding herself so high up, so she lowers until her body brushes Naomi’s own. The woman apparently decided to go braless, as Dylan feels pert nipples brush against her own breasts.

  A moan reverberates between them. She doesn’t know if it came from her, from Naomi, or some weird ethereal being from above urging them to keep going. But she needs no encouragement; it’s been nearly a year since she’s felt another woman’s touch—a year far too long.

  Her hands roam over Naomi, her bare shoulders, clothed torso, soft thighs. Naomi wraps her legs around Dylan’s back, pulling her so close that there’s hardly a breath of room between them. Dylan sinks down, her lower half pressing against Naomi’s own, and she slowly beings thrusting her hips down over and over again.

  “Oh god,” Naomi gasps when Dylan starts kissing and licking against that spot on her neck. “You’re killing me.”

  “Well that’s not what I intend to do,” Dylan retorts between her neck assault.

  Naomi pushes Dylan up slightly. “Then take off your shirt.”

  “Bossy,” she answers, quickly yanking the white t-shirt over her head, small breasts freed instantly. Her dusky nipples already strain outwards, reaching for Naomi’s touch. Dylan grins when Naomi bites her lip. “Like what you see?”

  “I love it,” Naomi answers. She hooks her fingers in the loops of Dylan’s pants. “These too.”

  “Bossy and greedy,” she jokes. “I like it.”

  In a matter of moments, she’s down to only her red boxer briefs. She used to be self-conscious about wearing things so untypically female, but now she has enough confidence to carry her through anything. This life is hers, and she’s proud of it.

  Naomi takes in the view, making a show of admiring Dylan’s muscular thighs and almost-there abs. Her hands trace the band of red briefs, circle around a taut stomach, and up to cup pert breasts in her palms. She didn’t know she had a type before, but now she knows that Dylan fits the bill perfectly.

  Naomi sits up enough to tug her dress over her head. She’s left in nothing but barely-there underwear that allows a dark patch of hair to peep through. It’s trimmed more than Dylan’s, but still clearly there. Dylan didn’t realize she was into that before, but it’s actually pretty sexy. She wants to run her fingers through it. Leaning back, Naomi blissfully watches Dylan absorb every inch of her almost-bare skin.

  Dylan feels herself breathing heavily. The body in front of her is absolutely perfect. Naomi, short but not too short, already showcased her legs in the thigh-length sundress. The whole view, however, is heart stopping.

  Her breasts, large and full, sit perkily on her tan chest. Supple hips curve into a narrow waist, leaving her with a soft hourglass shape. Though tanner than most, she has a light dusting of freckles across her chest from the sun. Nary a scar mars her body except for a tiny one right at the top of her leg. Her skin looks just as smooth as it feels. Naomi looks like the type of woman painted in all the classical prints: soft, curvy, and perfect for cuddling up to. Dylan is, quite frankly, awestruck.

  “Are you okay?” Naomi asks, wavering in her confidence after the long pause. She keeps herself from covering her breasts. “Is this too fast or something?”

  “No no,” Dylan refutes, shaking her head. “Sorry, I just—wow. You are beautiful.”

  “It took getting me naked to see that?” Naomi teases, her lips turning up at the edges.

  “Of course not.” Dylan leans forward, brushing their lips together. “I thought you were beautiful the second we met.”

  “That a lie,” Naomi retorts. “You called me a creep.”

  “Yeah, well…creeps can be cute I guess,” Dylan grins. “So maybe it took a few seconds. But I’ve never not thought you were beautiful…if that makes sense.”

  “It makes plenty,” Naomi pushes their mouths together greedily. “Now touch me.”

  Dylan does. Oh god, does she. Her hands map the trail of Naomi, from her collarbones, her breasts, soft stomach, and warm thighs. Their mouths stay close, exchanging breath for breath, as Dylan hovers above Naomi, touching every inch of skin she can reach. Their breasts touch, nipples straining, as Dylan works her hand between them. What she finds between Naomi’s legs is warm, wet, inviting.

  “Oh,” Naomi utters, bucking up into the touch.

  Dylan starts tentatively, massaging her way between plump lips and wet skin. Her fingers slide easily through warmth, lightly dipping inside before pulling back out to explore. Naomi clenches at her back, wordlessly asking for more.

  Dylan latches onto Naomi’s breast, licking and sucking on the plush skin. She feels Naomi’s gasping moan as she slides one, two fingers inside of her completely. Naomi clenches around her, getting used to the welcomed intrusion.

  “Fuck,” Dylan exclaims, coming up only slightly from Naomi’s chest. “You’re so wet.”

  Naomi pulls Dylan back down to her breasts. “Don’t stop,” she utters, “You feel so good.”

  She continues her open-mouthed assault on dark nipples as her fingers dip back inside her lover. Her fingers move in and out, in and out, stoking a fire that refuses to be quelled. Surprisingly, or not so surprisingly considering Naomi’s brashness, Naomi reaches between them and starts rubbing her own clit in wide circles.

  “Shit,” Dylan gasps.

  This is, by far, the hottest, most amazing thing she’s ever shared with another person. Not a single girlfriend, fuck buddy, or fling could compare. Naomi’s legs splayed open to expose herself, rub herself, allow Dylan inside herself. Dylan feels a jolt of electricity course straight down to her own straining clit. She straddles Naomi’s leg, grinding down on it through her red underwear. Naomi groans at the sight.

  “Fuck, Dyl.” Naomi rubs her clit faster, harder than before as Dylan continues pumping and curling and fingers in and out. “I’m going to come if you keep doing that.”

  So Dylan does. She rubs herself against the firmness of Naomi’s thigh, biting her lip to keep in a groan. It feels so good, so so good, but she can’t let it distract her from what she’s doing. Her fingers curl inside Naomi, hitting a spot that elicits a heavenly gasp.

  “Right there,” Naomi pleas. “Oh god, right there.”

  Dylan continues curling her fingers against the spot as she thrusts in and out. Naomi’s fingers rub her clit in tight circles now, faster and faster to match. The noises emitted from her signal it’s time, it’s time.

  “Come for me,” Dylan whispers, leaning forward to Naomi’s ear. “You are so hot. Come for me.”

  Naomi’s eyes clench shut. Her back arches from the bed and a low moan escapes her open mouth. The look on her face is the epitome of pure bliss as she comes undone. She continues rubbing herself, slower now, as she rides out the waves of undulating pleasure against the bed.

  Dylan stills her fingers before slowly removing them from the pulsating clench of her lover. Her own clit now strains, burning with the urge to seek the same pleasure. She tries to hold it at bay while Naomi regains herself. Every second feels like an eternity to her one-track mind.

  Naomi’s eyes finally, slowly, blink open. The pupils have widened, nearly swallowing the whole iris. A lopsided grin forms on her lips. “Wow.”

  Dylan smiles. “We seem to say that a lot, huh?”

  “All I can say,” Naomi whispers. “Just wow.”

  “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

  “Enjoyed it?” Naomi manages a small laugh. “I’ve never came so hard in my life.”

  A rush reverberates through Dylan at those words, reminding her how
wound up she already is. Mindlessly, she slowly grinds against Naomi’s now-limp thigh without realizing it. Naomi grins mischievously.

  “What?”

  Naomi flexes her thigh for added pressure. “Want me to take care of that or do you wanna do it yourself?”

  Dylan grimaces as she realizes what she’s doing. “Sorry. Just—you don’t have to right now.”

  Naomi’s face falls. “You don’t want me to?”

  “Of course I do,” she responds, looking down upon her lover. Her wild hair, high cheekbones, intense gaze. If she’s not careful, this could break her heart. “You can rest first though.”

  “I don’t need to rest,” is the response as Dylan gets flipped onto her back. Naomi cackles at the surprised look. “What, I don’t look strong enough to do that?”

  “I wasn’t expecting it, that’s for sure.” Dylan drops open her legs, watching as Naomi works the red briefs down her thighs. “But I’m not complaining.”

  Naomi stares at the glistening heat between Dylan’s legs. She easily settles herself in front of it. “Now lets see if you taste as good as you fuck.”

  “God,” Dylan groans. “You always talk like that?

  “Only when I wanna make you come.”

  Dylan clenches her eyes as Naomi’s perfectly petite mouth makes contact with her sensitive flesh. She feels her soft tongue exploring, moving here and there, coming back to the spots that make her legs go weak. Naomi pushes Dylan’s legs further apart before working in one finger, two. It feels wonderful, being so delightfully full. She can’t help when she starts grinding against Naomi’s mouth or when she opens herself as much as she can, to receive as much as she can.

  Naomi pumps her fingers in and out, fast then slowly before faster again. The pattern, combined with her lip rolling over and over against her clit, has Dylan nearly tipping over the edge already. Talk about a minute-woman.

  Dylan reaches down and takes a handful of Naomi’s hair. She holds Naomi against her clit, asking for more, more, more. And more she gets. Naomi sucks and flicks her tongue against Dylan’s clit with fervor now, matching the coaxing of her fingers pumping in and out. The sounds emerging—the wetness, the moans from each of them—only fuel the fire between her aching legs.