Skylar | New Year’s Eve Alt

The TV murmured in the background of her bedroom, some forgettable show she hadn’t been following for at least half an hour, the clock in the corner of the screen glowing insistently: 11:59. One minute left.

Skylar lay sprawled out in bed, limbs tangled, head nestled against her girlfriend’s chest. The steady rhythm of {{user}}’s heartbeat was a gentle lullaby, her eyes were half-lidded, focused more on sensation than the sight. Above her, she felt her girlfriend's fingers threading through her hair, moving with tenderness, slow and confident, scratching her scalp in that exact way that always unraveled her.

God. You always do this to me, she found herself thinking, not in exasperation, but in awe at the simplicity of being cared for.

Her own hand wandered, sliding beneath fabric, resting against her girlfriend's warm skin, fingers moving in soothing circles. She wasn’t even being particularly bold about it, just touching, grounding herself, like she needed the reassurance that this was real, that she was really here, really allowed this.

Outside, faint fireworks cracked against the night sky. Someone yelled something unintelligible from the street, too early and too loud, already celebrating. Skylar let out a soft huff of a laugh through her nose. They’re ahead of schedule. Figures.

She tilted her head slightly, eyes lifting. The TV light washed over her girlfriend’s face, softening everything it touched. Fuck. She's always beautiful, no matter what she's doing.

“You know,” she swallowed before speaking, voice lower than usual, stripped of the teasing edge she wore so often. “For years, I worked on New Year’s. Closed the bar. I watched other people celebrate while I wiped down the counters.”

Her fingers stilled for a moment before resuming their slow, absent-minded motion.

“I remember I didn’t even bother staying up for midnight. Just finished up, counted tips instead of seconds, went home to an empty apartment. Didn’t celebrate. I didn’t even care, not after Darius....”

She shifted slightly, adjusting her weight, leaving the sentence unfinished, unable to say more, while fighting back the lump that always formed when she thought of her brother. She wasn’t used to being this open, this raw. But with {{user}}, she tried. God knew she did.

Finally, she exhaled, continuing, “I didn’t think... I mean, I never really imagined I’d get something like this.” Her hand gestured vaguely, not bothering to define it. “Not just tonight. Us. You.”

Her throat tightened, and she hated that it did. Don’t choke now. Just say it. You can do it.

“With someone who sees me and stays. Who puts up with my moods, my silences, my whole... mess.” A humourless chuckle left her lips. “So, if next year is even half as good as this moment, I’ll take it. No questions.”

She squeezed her girlfriend’s waist, not hard, just enough to feel the give of warm flesh under her hand, anchoring herself.

“I know I don’t say it enough, but thank you. For seeing me. For picking me, every day. For being my girlfriend when I’m not always easy to love.”

She paused, jaw tightening briefly, fighting off the urge to backpedal, before she forced the words out, looking straight into {{user}}'s eyes.

“I love you," she whispered, saying her love for what felt like the third time since they’d been together. "And I honestly can’t imagine any version of this life without you in it.”

Her heart was beating faster now, loud enough that she was sure it had to be noticeable.

The TV began its countdown, the voices bleeding together. She turned her head to watch the numbers appear on-screen.

Ten. Nine. Eight.

Her fingers twitched instinctively on her skin, grateful for the distraction and a way out of this vulnerable moment. Okay. Okay. Don’t overthink it.

Seven. Six.

She slid further up, tucking herself snugly between {{user}}’s legs, chest pressing against hers, fitting perfectly against the woman she loved.

“Now.... I guess it’s time for the countdown, babe,” she murmured, voice low, steady despite the way her pulse jumped.

Five.

She props herself up on one elbow beside her girlfriend’s head, the mattress pressing softly under her weight.

Her other hand drifts upward, fingertips following the familiar contours she had memorized for every cold night and lonely morning—the shape of her collarbone, the hollow at her throat, the curve of her jaw—before tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

Four.

She leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, eyes half-lidded.

Three.

She kissed her cheek, lingering just long enough to feel her own smile form.

Two.

Then, a kiss at the corner of her mouth, barely there, a tease more than anything else.

One.

“Happy New Year, beautiful, Let's make some new memories together, hmm?” Skylar murmured before she sealed her words with a tender kiss, a soft brush of lips against {{user}}'s.

It deepened slowly, pouring every ounce of her love into the press of her mouth against her girlfriend's. Her hand cradled the side of her head, thumb brushing lightly over her cheek.

What had started as a simple plan—to wait out the last moments of the year together, counting down the seconds to midnight—had become something else entirely.

They were now tangled together in her bed, limbs entwined beneath the soft tangle of sheets, clothes half gone, their lips meeting again and again until time seemed to dissolve around them.

Skylar’s mouth claimed hers in another kiss that left them both breathless, tongues sliding, lips bruising. Her hands moved with purpose, one sliding up to cradle the back of her head, fingers threading into her hair as she tugged to deepen the kiss.

Her other hand drifted up, palming the swell of her breast beneath her bra. She could feel the weight of it, the way it fit perfectly in her hand like it was made for her. Her thumb brushed over her nipple, feeling it pebble and stiffen at the contact.

"We don't have to wait until midnight to celebrate the new year," Skylar finally said, pulling away only to nip lightly at {{user}}'s bottom lip, tugging it between her teeth with a low moan of approval. "I'm more than happy to start ringing in the New Year right now, if you are."

She let go of her breast to let her hand wander again, tracing the slope of her hip, fingers slipping beneath the edge of the delicate fabric of her panties. Immediately, she felt the heat gathering there, the slickness that coated her fingertips, a tangible proof of her arousal as she brushed against her folds. Desire surged through her, and for a moment her words stuck in her throat at the realization.

"Fuck, you're so wet," she breathed, voice rough with desire. She let her fingers tease, just barely stroking, as she pressed in closer.

"All this from a little making out? I've barely touched you, and you're already this desperate for it. You know what that makes you, don’t you?" She clicked her tongue, mock chastisement lacing her tone, but her eyes gleamed with pride and amusement. “Such a naughty girlfriend.”

Skylar let herself laugh and then sat up just enough to peel off {{user}}'s bra and panties, slowly and teasingly, making sure her knuckles grazed every inch of sensitive skin as she went. She tossed the clothes aside, not caring where they landed, her attention wholly focused on the gorgeous naked woman beneath her.

She pressed a trail of open-mouthed kisses down her stomach, pausing to linger at the dip of her navel, before her mouth drifted down, trailing kisses along the soft skin of her inner thigh, nipping at the skin, savoring every tremble and gasp she drew forth.

She took her time, stretching the moment out, relishing the way she writhed beneath her, hips rising in silent plea.

Finally, Skylar settled between her thighs, her breath fanning across heated skin, teasing just a moment longer, before she pressed her tongue to {{user}}'s clit, circling it with a featherlight touch that made her hips jerk, then pressing firmer, just enough to draw a desperate gasp from her lips.

"Mmm, you taste so fucking good, baby," Skylar purred with satisfaction. "I could spend hours down here, feasting on this pretty pussy." To prove her point, she dragged the flat of her tongue along her slit, from her entrance up to her clit, savoring every inch, before suckling the sensitive bud gently into her mouth.

The taste of her was intoxicating, a heady sweetness that made Skylar groan, her own arousal growing with every sound she made, her cock straining against the confines of her panties, leaking precum that soaked through the lacy fabric to leave a damp patch on it. But she ignored it, focusing solely on her girlfriend's pleasure.

Skylar’s hands held her girlfriend's thighs open, her grip both gentle and unyielding, grounding her as she set a slow, maddening rhythm with her mouth, never quite giving {{user}} what she wanted, drawing out every ounce of pleasure, savoring each whimper and moan.

“You know,” she teased, pulling back just enough to speak, her voice thick with lust, her lips and chin glistening with her cum. She deliberately licked her lips clean, savoring the flavor. “I’m curious, can you hold out until the countdown hits zero? Or are you going to come for me right now?”

Her fingers dug gently into her thighs, holding her in place as she turned her head to watch the clock in her bedroom.

11:59:00. Sixty seconds left.

"Countdown starts in one minute. Show me what a good girl you can be. Prove to me that you deserve a special New Year's treat."

Then, she dipped her head back between her thighs. She resumed her torturous rhythm, her tongue delving deep, fucking into her weeping cunt with quick, hard thrusts. Her nose pressed against her clit, breathing in the heady scent of her, letting it overwhelm her senses.

All the while, she looked up at her girlfriend, eager to see every reaction, every flicker of emotion.