The Qualitative Stuff of Life
Dedicated to my family within Clone Club who have done nothing but support me with love and mouse facts. If you guys read this, thanks.
324B21. Three two four B two one. Cosima. She was just another project. No attachment. No feelings, just work.
Cosima could never have been just work. The first time they met in person, Delphine was struck by how easy it was to think of Cosima as a friend, not a subject. Her smile filled Delphine with a warmth that could only be described as a really soft, fuzzy blanket on the inside.
But she was still work. Just work. Delphine folded up the fuzzy blanket and hid it away. Cosima was coming closer. Just work.
"Don't you think it's time we admitted what this is really about?" she said.
Closer. Just work. Closer. Just work. Closer. Just—
In that kiss, everything made sense but it shouldn't have because Cosima was just a subject. So she ran.
Cosima was her subject, though, and she had to go back. And when her subject had no problem talking about the subject, Delphine was compelled to explain.
"It's just that I've…never…" wanted to kiss someone again as much as I want to kiss you and I'm so scared because you're work but I think I'm falling in love with you and I want to know if you love me too and I want you to know everything. I want you. You and no secrets.
"I know, I know, I know." You do? "You're not—you're not gay."
All she could do was nod. Her thoughts were stupid anyways. Just work.
And then it all spilled out in the most science-y, dorky way possible and Cosima got it. Delphine's mind and heart were at war whilst she babbled away. Cosima was not just work. She couldn't be just work. It wasn't possible. None of this was possible.
Spectrum. Contrary. Biology. Science.
Oddly romantic. Totally encouraging.
Her heart burst. It simply expanded beyond its boundaries and filled her up, drowning her brain and her senses. It wasn't scientifically accurate, but it's what she imagined. And who cares about being accurate?
Cosima's lips caressed Delphine's. The energy of her kisses was incredible. Fleetingly, Delphine connected Cosima's energetic hand movements with her kisses. Cosima's hands remained firmly clasped around Delphine's neck now, her lips doing all the energy spending.
Actually, her hands were straining on Delphine's neck and the blonde realized, in the midst of her continued acquainting with Cosima's mouth, that Cosima was attempting to stay balanced on her tip-toes so as to not make Delphine hunch.
Her mind raced. What does she do next? Delphine considered herself fairly experienced, but this new territory was so unfamiliar and she was beginning to freeze up. She broke the kiss.
Cosima dropped down onto flat feet. She picked up Delphine's hand with her own and her other hand pushed a blonde curl from Delphine's face and lingered.
With one quiet, soft, knowing look, Cosima turned and led Delphine to her bed. She turned back to Delphine and slightly tilted her head.
It took Delphine a few quick, shallow breaths, but she nodded and brought her hands up to take off Cosima's glasses.
As someone in a quantitative profession, Delphine struggled with the qualitative things in life and generally avoided them if at all possible.
80% of her mind felt it was so right when Cosima began a burning trail of slow kisses down from her neck.
20% of her mind told her how wrong this was. Cosima was work not pleasure.
This percentage was reduced to 15% when Cosima took one of Delphine's nipples into her mouth. Cosima glanced briefly at the tall blonde, and Delphine saw, in those brown eyes, what can only be described as a very happy lioness that just found her favorite prey.
10% of Delphine felt like prey as Cosima continued sucking on one nipple and then switched to give the other one the same attention.
Ninety percent of Delphine felt like a much-loved and worshipped goddess as Cosima briefly paused her exploration to tell Delphine, in a surprisingly raspy voice, how incredible she was.
Five percent of Delphine did not want to moan when Cosima continued her trail downwards and grazed a finger over Delphine's panties. The other ninety-five percent won out and Cosima smiled just under Delphine's belly button.
Ninety percent of Delphine felt that this was all so right when Cosima slipped her fingers into Delphine's panties and stroked her folds gently.
Ten percent was still protesting about work.
Ninety-two percent right when Cosima slid a finger into Delphine's wetness. Both gasped quietly and Delphine gripped the comforter tightly.
Ninety-three percent when Cosima kissed right above the hem of Delphine's panties. She took her finger out and slowly took off the panties.
Seven percent work.
Ninety-six when Cosima kissed a little lower.
Ninety-eight when Cosima hovered just above the apex, her breath tickled Delphine and she looked up again at the blonde breathing heavily at the head of the bed.
Two. W— Delphine grabbed Cosima's free hand and squeezed as tightly as she could. "Oh, Cosima! S'il te plait! Please."
Passionate. Incredible. Crying out. Agonizing. Dizzying. Amazing. Electrifying.
They lay side by side under the comforter. Delphine stared up at the ceiling and she felt the rush of qualitative feelings wash over her. There were no numbers, no sense in anything except that she was feeling everything at once and it was both incredible and terrifying. She was crying.
"I cry after sex with boys too," she told Cosima. Lies. But she was certainly not ready to tell Cosima the truth on that one. I cry because something in my life finally makes perfect sense and it's the only thing that should not be.
"Poor you," Cosima said.
No, she thought, poor you. But for that moment, as their hands were linked together and they talked about eskimo pies, one hundred percent of Delphine was in love with Cosima. Zero percent of Delphine thought of Cosima as part of work. Zero percent of Delphine thought about work.
Everything was naturally romantic and totally encouraging.