| Amelia Meyer
I open the door into the gym at The Den, intent on getting Kian's lunch order.
"Hey cutie, we are ordering Thai, what would you like? Moira wants pad thai, no peanuts, tofu, medium, and bubble tea."
As I enter the small room, my eyes find Kian. She is in the middle of doing pullups, her arms and abs straining with the effort, her skin shining with perspiration. I stop, mid-step, my jaw dropping and my cheeks burning.
I am transfixed, watching her work out. My eyes caress her curves and muscles, lingering on her hard-won torso, the sweat showing off her defined muscles. All thoughts have left my mind other than "pretty stronk lady", and my body yearns for Kian, draping over me on a cloud, sliding and touching and kissing and nibbling...
Some time later Kian finishes her rep and notices me in the doorway, stock-still with lust. She jumps off, her body bouncing so beautifully it is unfair to my overheating head, chuckling as she strides over to me. Ohhhhhhhhhhh, that is just unreasonably mean...that chuckle.
"Ma mie, is someone in need?" she whispers as her hands twine around my waist, her slick abs pressing into my chest, her chest crushing into my tomato-red face. My brain short-circuits completely and I am left speechless, mewling plaintively.
"Whatever shall we do with you, such a pretty, adorable, smol lesbian? Maybe wrap you up in my arms, and throw you over my shoulder, and carry you to a bed?" Kian says jovially.
I squeak in a half-hearted protest as she does exactly that. This is unkind and unfair and I love it.
Much later, I wake, dreamy and content. Kian is on her side next to me, head propped on one arm, deep brown eyes drinking me in.
"Hiiiiiiii" I mumble, unwilling to move much yet, safe and warm in the covers with a woman I adore.
"Mon amour, tu fais briller mon âme...et le reste de ma personne" she breaths sensually, unable to repress a smile at my dishevelment and contentment.
I blush, and can only manage a choked "I looooooooooooovee youuuuuuu."
Kian cracks up, rolling atop me and kissing me furiously. I wrap my arms around her back, pulling her into me.
"...did you all still need a minute?" Moira inquires from the door, having entered silently as usual. "I brought 'teh foods' or something." She gestures with a bag of take-out containers.
Kian rolls back over and sits up, too focused on the prospect of calories to worry about the covers. Or whether she was wearing anything under them.
Moira manages to set the bag down before her knees give out, her face rapidly turning crimson, emphasizing all of her freckles. I giggle at the sight.
"Y'all are so fucking gay, you know that?" I admonish lovingly.
Kian gives me A Look Laden With Meanings. I whimper and blush again. She gracefully slides free from the covers, steps over to the pile of useless lesbian at the door, scooping her under one arm, and the bag of food in the other. I am pinned in place by the view of her butt and hips and waist and...
She reappears at my side and deposits a Moira-shaped lump in bed next to me, then sits cross-legged on the covers. She doles out the food to us, having to poke Moira upright enough to hold the bowl and chopsticks.
I seem to be unable to operate the chopstick wrapper.
Kian eventually has had enough fun at our gay expenses, sashaying over to the closet to find some underwear and a cami. Now less distracting, she returns and tells us "Y'all need to eat now. I'll not be responsible for you lusting to starvation."
Having managed to eat, and get into clothes again myself, I suggest we go work on the community garden plot to the west. Kian and Moira agree; it was a gorgeous spring day.
Kian sets about moving pavers into strategic positions to delineate plots. Moira grabs a shovel and continues her work on the irrigation system, tunable in flow and timing per plot. I busy myself with weaving trestles for tomatoes and beans to come.
Hours pass, work progresses, Moira and I are occasionally rendered incapable of speech by Kian's shoulder blades. A good afternoon for all. As the sun sets, Kian scoops Moira up onto her shoulders and wraps my hand in hers. We walk back to The Den, in love and in step.
I look at myself in the entryway mirror as we kick off our shoes at the door. "I could really use a shower, and you two are not much better. Care to join me?" I ask my partners.
"If ever I say no to that question, mon ciel étoilé, I'm dead," Kian rumbles, and I swoon. However'd I get this lucky?
We mostly just get clean, helping each other reach dirt and sweat in inaccessible spots. Moira is very diligent at helping wash both my and Kian's chests, which raises giggles from both of us. I find myself very attentive with her bountiful rear in kind, turning her once again into a pile of squee.
We do eventually get out and dry off, and make sure all the dry skin spots and callouses are attended to with moisturizer. Cozy in our robes, they follow me to the kitchen where I brown some ground venison with light seasoning, and Kian dices onions and tomato. Moira toasts the soft shells, and we sit at our compact table for taco night, talking and laughing for hours.