Bennie kept a hold of Motheater’s hand as they walked into the house, leaving Zach and Jasper on the front porch. The two women were silent, the enormity of what they had to do reverberating between them. At dawn, Bennie thought, they would go bargain with Kire.
It was ludicrous, but in the past week she had seen mountains move, churches fly in the air, ghosts walk, a man come out of a tree, and gave her former boss a candle to cure a generational curse. It wasn’t so strange, was it, that at the end of this they had to go to Kire and appeal directly.
“We can sleep in here,” Bennie said, leading Motheater to the spare bedroom. It was very spare, with a mattress that bowed in the middle and only a nightstand for furniture. She hadn’t expected Zach to improve on the room, but it was kind of absurd that he hadn’t even turned down the sheets since she left. Bennie was, at this point, very much trying not to think about the fact that she and Motheater were going to be sharing a bed, a real bed, after spending most of the last few hours holding hands.
Motheater had walked around the bed, dragging her hands along the duvet. Bennie turned so she wouldn’t have to watch her, wouldn’t have to think too hard, and sat on the bed. It was only after she had taken off her jacket and boots that she realized just how tired she was. This whole day had been exhausting, and she ached. The stress, the fear, the anxiety, the magic. All of it weighed on her.
“Bennie?”
She picked her head up out of her hands, not realizing until just then she had been leaning over.
“I’m fine.”
She was, mostly. She tried to focus, she tried to sit up, but before she could, she felt the mattress dip behind her and Motheater’s arms around her shoulders. They were slim, strong, pulling Bennie back against her chest.
Bennie did not panic, absolutely not, and her face did not flush at all, but she might have made a noise that was not completely ladylike as Motheater held her tight. Her heart was beating faster, her hands spread over her jeans, absolutely not sweating at all. Nope. She was fine, she was totally fine, and she had this completely under control.
“Don’t fret,” Motheater murmured, sliding closer, her bare thighs bracketing Bennie’s hips, her face crushed against Bennie’s shoulders. “It’ll turn out.”
“Will it?” Bennie asked, and she could probably pretend that her voice wasn’t higher than normal. She swallowed, ignoring the soft heat of Motheater against her, ignoring her sweaty palms. She focused on the crickets outside, the last creatures who seemed too oblivious to know that the mountain was coming for them.
“Aye.” Motheater’s voice was soft, feathery against Bennie’s neck. “I’ll make it so.”
Bennie laughed. She shook her head and swatted at Motheater’s arms. “Move over.”
Motheater shifted back, and Bennie promptly shucked off her jeans and slid under the covers. The witch was down to the same, pulling a long-sleeved tee shirt over her palms, holding onto the fabric. It was dark enough that they couldn’t really see each other, but they were close, knees bumping against each other.
They faced each other, and Motheater reached out first, running her hand over Bennie’s jaw.
Fuck it. Bennie turned her head and kissed Motheater’s palm, relishing the soft exhale she got from the other woman. Her hands found Motheater’s hips, and she pulled her close, kissing her hard. They only had tonight.
That got a slightly different reaction, and Bennie chased Motheater’s mouth, hands fisted in Motheater’s shirt. She smiled as she kissed the witch, as the witch kissed her back, dragging her short nails across the back of her neck. Bennie shuddered and licked into Motheater’s mouth. Sharp teeth shouldn’t turn her on as much as it did, but there was no accounting for that, was there.
Motheater arched into Bennie, and whatever puritan preconceptions Bennie had of Motheater flew swiftly out the window. Bennie did not mind that at all. Her hands slid up Motheater’s shirt, and she felt the witch shiver under her fingers.
“I like this,” Bennie sighed, pulling back as Motheater gripped her shoulders tightly. She swallowed and looked at Motheater’s too-sharp face, her hazel eyes, her dull, brassy hair and splotchy pink-and-green blush spread across her cheeks. Bennie knew that she had something ethereal in her hands. She knew that it couldn’t last.
Motheater nodded, humming. She leaned in to kiss Bennie again, and Bennie let her, want pooling in her stomach. Her hands were on fire, her legs were burning between Motheater’s. She wanted this horribly.
With a strength that Bennie wouldn’t have guessed Motheater had, Bennie was shoved onto her back, and the witch straddled her hips. Bennie’s eyes went wide for a second before Motheater kissed her again, her clever hands sliding under Bennie’s shirt.
Oh, shit, oh shit.
Bennie turned her head, pushing Motheater away, sliding up the headboard, pressing her head against the wall. She was breathing hard, but so was Motheater, her eyes wide, a little manic.
“I know what I’m doing,” Motheater said, leaning in to kiss Bennie again.
“No, I got that.” Bennie laughed, actually laughed, something nervous and stupid and full of terror. She grabbed at Motheater’s hands and forced them down onto Motheater’s thighs, holding them still. Motheater was breathing hard, and Bennie watched the witch’s eyes flick over her face. Bennie didn’t know why she was hesitating. Why should Bennie wait, when all she wanted to do was kiss Motheater until her lips were bright and swollen?
It might have been the gray-green bruises around Motheater’s neck that made her pause. It may have been the bony hips, the way Motheater looked as desperate as Bennie felt. It might have been the way that Motheater seemed to glow, pale and ghostly in the dark room. She wanted this; they both did.
“Oh, goddammit.” Bennie groaned, leaning forward and wrapping her arms around Motheater’s waist. She pulled her close, and Motheater made a cooing noise, sliding her hands across Bennie’s head gently. It was almost like she was calming down a particular cat, but Bennie wasn’t minding.
She sighed, and Motheater kissed her temple, cradling her gently, being soft in a way that a witch made of sharp edges shouldn’t be.
“Let’s just get some sleep,” Bennie said finally, an ache pounding at her chest. Motheater raised her eyebrows, a look of hurt flashing across her face. She nodded, shifting to slide off Bennie. Bennie felt wounded, too, and they both slid down to lie flat on the bed.
There was something raging inside Bennie, but fucking Motheater right now would feel desperate and sad. She wanted to feel love. She deserved better than an earnest, fumbling, terrified tumble with a woman she wanted to know so completely.
In the dark, Bennie could just barely see the mottled bruises around Motheater’s neck. She reached out and found Motheater’s hands, searching for a small comfort. The witch gripped her tight, and they ended up curled into each other, foreheads pressed together, breathing the same air.
Bennie screwed her eyes up to keep from crying in frustration, to keep her just barely apart from Motheater.
“You scared?” Motheater whispered.
Bennie paused, then nodded. “Yeah.”
The admission hung between them, fragile and soft. Bennie closed her eyes tightly, and her breath didn’t come easy.
“Me too,” Motheater said, leaning in to press her face against Bennie’s. “But I’m with you.”
“What’s that got to do with anything?” Bennie’s voice did not crack, it did not at all. This, too, was fragile.
“Because you make me brave,” Motheater said quietly. Now, something broke inside Bennie. She opened her eyes again, watching Motheater in the off-light of the crescent moon that barely came in through the window. “Because you’re brave. I love you,” Motheater murmured, her voice like a river. She gripped Bennie’s hands tight. “I love you like a mountain.”
Bennie laughed, furiously heated, and buried her head in the pillow next to Motheater’s head. She felt Motheater tense up next to her and quickly turned her head to kiss her. She didn’t know if she believed Motheater, if this was something compelled, if this was real, but they had something strung between them, some common thread, a connection that didn’t mean much to time or space. They were queer in Appalachia, and these folks didn’t come around quick. It was futile, grasping, and Bennie couldn’t help the way her heart pounded through her whole body, even down to the tips of her fingers. “I’m your mountain?”
Motheater nodded, leaning into Bennie. “Aye, my mountain.”
Bennie grinned, kissing Motheater quickly a second time. Fuck it. She could kiss the woman a little bit. Who cared? She was just a woman half in love with a witch out of time. This was enough. “You’re my mountain.”