Disenchanting Valentine’s: Ex-Lover F Luci (Patreon)

“Just trust me,” Lucia whispers to you, leading you by the hand down one of the paths around campus.

Of course you trust her. It’s Lucia. You two haven’t been through all the shit you have for you not to trust er. Still, under nightfall, the shadows of the trees seem to jump out as you pass. You squeeze Lucia’s hand a little tighter, moving closer to her as you both keep going.

It’s not like it’s a quiet night on campus. Valentine’s Day never is. Couples are coming back from dinner, having picnics in the courtyard of the student center, watching the stars outside the dorm buildings; people are everywhere. None of them pay you any attention as Lucia leads you around the dorms to the back of the Arts building. She scans a key, which you have no idea where she got, and leads you inside down the dark hallways.

“Are we allowed in here?” You hiss, keeping pace as you pass the classrooms by.

“Yeah,” She raises an eyebrow as you finally come to stop in front of a door, “How do you think I got a key?”

There’s light coming from inside the room, but you can’t see much with Lucia in front of you.

You shrug a bit, “I thought you stole it.”

She blinks at you, and you can’t help but laugh a little at her expression. She turns without comment and opens the door, tugging your hand to lead you inside.

You bite back a gasp as you look around the art studio. Only one easel has been left in the center of the room, the rest moved against the wall. A few fluffy blankets have been spread out on the floor, and bowls of fruit and chocolate are set to the side. One lamp is on in the corner, providing some dim lighting in the large room. Candles surround the blankets in a half circle, and it looks like she’s scattered flowers petals haphazardly around on the floor.

“Ta-da,” She says weakly, sweeping an arm out to gesture at all of it.

You can hear the nerves in her voice, see her swallow heavily; she’s afraid you won’t like it. Why you wouldn’t, you have no idea. This is…more than you ever thought you deserved. You turn to her fully, swallowing your emotions as you take an unsteady step toward her. You give her a soft kiss and she brings a hand to settle on your hip, her fingers flexing with the urge to pull you closer.

“Thank you,” You whisper hoarsely, not hiding the tears that threaten to fall as well as you’d like.

Her lips part, her mouth opening as if she was going to say something. No words come out, though, and she just stares down at you quietly for a moment. You feel the same, as if the words have been ripped from your tongue, gone without a trace. You never thought it would be this easy, loving her again. Again, you think, turning the word over and over in your head. As if you ever really stopped.

It’s different now. Before, Valentine’s Day was a simple and sweet affair. You’d eat dinner on the balcony of her bedroom, watching the night sky in each other’s arms. Now, so many years later, you’re celebrating it with her for the first time all over again. It always comes down to that word; with Lucia, it’s always again. You circle around each other, constantly drawn to the same orbit, destined to somehow find your way back to each other’s sides.

“It’s nothing,” She finally says, her quiet voice still loud in the silent room, “It’s the least I could do for you.”

You feel the urge to kiss her again, but instead you walk further into the room. Lucia closes the door, watching you as you take it all in.

“My art professor is the one who gave me the key,” She says suddenly, “She knows I like to paint at odd hours. It’s soothing for me. This studio is like a place away from it all, somewhere I can just be me.”

The importance of her bringing you here isn’t lost on you, and she obviously knows you realize that.

“It seemed fitting,” Her eyes are warm as they flit over your face, “You’re the only person who makes me feel the way this place does. Safe.”

This time you give into the urge. Your lips press against hers, less soft and more urgent. She pulls you flush against her, groaning as you wrap your arms around her shoulders. She turns the both of you around, breaking the kiss just long enough to guide you down onto the blankets. Your back presses against the plush fur, and your breath catches as your eyes lock, both of your gazes longing.

“Are we,” You whisper, your face mere inches from is, “About to have sex in an art studio?”

She bites her lip, stifling a chuckle, “Uhm, do you want to have sex in an art studio?”

“Well, I…” A tingle runs down your spine at the thought, desire pooling below the more you think about it, “I want to. I want you.”

Her eyes brighten the moment the words leave your mouth, a dopey little grin curling her lips. Candlelight shines on her skin as she makes quick work of undressing, and you’re almost so distracted that you forget to do the same. She presses down on you, her body on top of yours as she captures you in another kiss as her hands slide down your body. She catches on your hip, her thumb caressing your skin.

You pant, pulling away long enough to reach for your jacket. It’s tossed to the side with the rest of your clothes, but you dig for the lube in the pocket.

Her eyes widen before a smirk flickers on her lips, “You had plans, then?”

“I had hope,” You respond, laying back down with a smug little smile.

Lucia’s face softens as she cards a hand through your hair, drinking you in for a moment. She then proceeds, relishing every little noise you make as she carefully teases you with her fingers. You feel the wetness as she rocks against your thing, her own breath coming heavy as you reach down and stroke your fingers through the wetness.

Her moan is shaking, her hands unsteady, but she still manages to focus on you even as you stroke at her in a way that has her thighs shaking.

You find the peak together, her collapsing into your arms with a spent whine as you clutch her close. You tug one of the blankets over the both of you as the chill of the evening sets in, making goosebumps raise on your bare skin.

“I got ahead of myself,” She mutters into your shoulder, “I didn’t even get to show you the painting.”

“The painting?” You pause, remembering the canvas turned backwards on the easel so you couldn’t see the front, “You painted me something?”

You feel unbearably loved in that moment, like the affection could just about strangle you.

“I painted you,” She responds, pulling her face from the crook of your neck to look up at you with those damned brown eyes of hers.

Something warm settles in your chest. You haven’t even seen the painting yet but you know you’ll love it regardless. Lucia made it, and you love her so much it feels like you could combust from it all, so of course you would.

“I love you,” You say, your voice trembling.

She presses her forehead against yours, “I never stopped.”