098. Writer's Choice — Unexpected

.

.

Laurel's sexual appetite is not her problem — she's not the one who impregnated her.

"It'll be completely safe, babe." Michaela glances up from scrolling her emails, narrowing her eyes at the gleaming, steel-colored handgun as an exasperated Laurel takes it apart, showing her the inside of the chambers. "No bullets, see?"

Michaela's phone vibrates, with Teagan's number lighting up. "We'll talk again this later," she says dully, but leaves a soft, ticklish kiss to Laurel's ear.

.

.

It's been a good arrangement so far, sharing an apartment when money goes scarce and they're still enrolled in university courses, sharing the burden of the chores and tasks… sharing a bed

Michaela thought initially what they had was a fling, silly and wild and unspeakably hot.

Still feels that way, lights low and golden, and a messy-haired, blushing Laurel quivers underneath her and her attention, their mouths relocking, Michaela's tongue brushing to her lips.

Guns, murder — her least favorite thing ever. But she trusts Laurel to keep this from getting out of control, picking up the handgun on the sheets.

"You sure?"

Laurel nods silently, chewing on her bottom, reddened lip, cocking her hips up a little. One of her hands slips over the roundness of her naked pregnant belly. Offering herself, it looks like.

Michaela attempts to tune into the static in her mind, pushing the cold, hard muzzle underneath Laurel's neck, moving downwards to a rosy-brown nipple. She uses her empty hand to roll and massage it with her dark brown and gentle fingertips.

It feels too-warm in the room, even while Michaela stripped down her padded, lemon-colored camisole and a pair of underwear.

With that distraction, she nudges the handgun between Laurel's thighs, opening them further.

Body-fluid shines on the metal, dripping freely when Michaela's hand eases the tip of the muzzle inside her girlfriend, thrusting out short, quick jabs. Laurel's entire body seems to tense and unclench, riding on the heightened adrenaline, while the other woman continues to fuck her, sliding the handgun's muzzle deeper into Laurel's vagina.

"F-faster, oh my god," Laurel moans, grabbing her own legs towards her chest and pulling them open wider, thrusting on her back, trying to get a firmer internal grip on the unloaded weapon.

Michaela snorts, partly in amusement and in wonder, as breathless as her girlfriend.

She does it, feeling the muscles in her wrist cramping from the awkward, irregular angle, watching the steely handgun emerge from Laurel's damp, puffy vaginal lips, only to glide back inside, stretching her to a new, erratic limit.

Michaela's finger accidentally wraps to the trigger, setting it off with a blank, hollow click. By then, Laurel succumbs to her orgasm, howling out.

They're all kinda fucked up at this point.

Still.

.

.


How To Get Away With Murder isn't mine. I'VE BEEN POSTING FOR 98 DAYS STRAIGHT HOW DOES THIS WORK okay thanks for reading I love these two girls they should have ended up together what were the writers even thinking omg and any comments/thoughts appreciated thank you