C A T H A R S I S
(n). The process of releasing, and thereby providing relief from strong or repressed emotions.
BLEU LAY on her bed, looking at old youtube videos on her laptop and pondering about her relationship with Paris. It's been three days since Kael had been hospitalized, three days since their last kiss. And for the past three days Natasja had rarely ever left their side. Since then the french woman had told them to just relax and let her do her job, just until Paris could turn 18 in a week.
So relax, Bleu did. It was better than thinking about the impending threats and possible attacks they could face. She wouldn't think of that. Her dad had hired security outside and they had Natasja on the inside. Besides, it's been three days of quiet. And Kael was coming home today. Everything was looking up. Maybe everything else was behind them after all.
After watching her fifth video about dog rescues, Bleu sighed and shut off her laptop before rolling on her back and staring up at the ceiling. I can't let my parents know about what's going on between Paris and I, she thought as she blew air out her mouth. They'd probably freak.
Due to their parents and Natasja being constantly around, both girls barely stayed close to each other, only truly touching when they were asleep on Bleu's bed. Natasja had said it was easier to guard them when they were together, and because they were paranoid of her suddenly barging in Bleu's room during the night, they never tried anything.
However, Bleu could practically feel their sexual tension. Doing nothing about it for the past three days only seemed to make it worse. She wondered if Paris could feel it too.
"Honey?" her mom knocked on the door, poking her head in. "Oh. What are you doing?"
Bleu shrugged, not taking her eyes off her ceiling. "Was just watching some Youtube videos."
"Ah. Dog videos, I presume."
Bleu smiled, rolling over to lay on her stomach and facing her mom. "Yep. What's up?"
"Do you mind running down to the gym to call Paris and Miss Armand? It's lunchtime." Cateline checked her watch.
"Why didn't you just voice message the panel downstairs?" Bleu cocked a brow, internally thinking about how her mom was so behind with the technology.
"They're not responding," Cateline shrugged. "So go on. Do it the 'old-fashioned' way, you lazy bum." She winked then disappeared.
Bleu sighed. Her mother was right. She was lazy.
"Oh," her mom added, suddenly popping back in. "Brooke and the twins are coming over later. They said they were worried about you."
"That's sweet of them," Bleu walked to the door. "God, I've missed them anyway." She truly did miss her friends. Ever since the shooting at their school, the only time they've ever talked was online and not in person since her parents didn't want them going out, for their own safety. So now it looks like the party was coming to them. If they started asking questions, Bleu had no idea how to think of a better lie than the fact that Paris was a fucking princess and a french mob was after her life and quite possibly hers too. Life is great.
She bounded down the stairs, preferring the padded sound of her feet compared to the soft whirring of their glass elevator. She didn't like elevators.
As she neared their gym room, she heard grunts and paddings being hit. She softly nudged the frosted glass door open. Only to see two very attractive, very sweaty women in action.
Natasja was dressed in a tight black tank top and leggings. Her red, flowy hair was tight back in a long braid and a head band kept the rest of her hair away from her face. She dropped to the ground to avoid the kick Paris had thrown at her and quickly delivered a low leg-swipe that knocked Paris off her feet, making the brunette growl. Paris immediately jumped back on her feet, both her hands up and ready again.
She wore a nike black sports bra and short athletic shorts that showed off her toned legs and abs. Her fists were encased in black half-gloves, her hair tied up in a ponytail. Droplets of sweat rivuleted down her neck, arms, and flat stomach as she grunted with effort to block the fast french-woman's punches.
And because of Paris' height, Bleu had expected her to move more awkwardly, like how giants usually would. But it was far from that.
Paris moved with the speed and grace of someone who trained for hours a day. Her muscles were in full display to Bleu's eyes, and it made heat spool at the bottom of her belly. Everytime she punched, her stomach would contract. Her muscles were lean but not too big and her femininity mingled with a bit of masculinity. Every movement she did was fast, but not fast enough for the shorter red head.
On Paris' last punch, Natasja pulled her down and flipped on top of her, pinning her down with her weight and having her arms pressed behind her back. It all happened so quickly Bleu pinched herself for blinking.
"Remember, this was the position you couldn't recover from," Natasja said and Paris squirmed, trying to get her off. But she held firm, just like what the man did to Paris at school. "Now for the tenth time, what must you do? Learn from your mistakes!"
"How can I learn when you're not teaching me!" Paris replied in frustration. "You're just fighting me and pinning me down like this every time. Guess what? It's not working!"
"Of course it is," Natasja said calmly. "You got better each time. You just don't know how to get out from under like this."
"Then show me," Paris gritted through her teeth. "Please." Always polite.
Natasja smiled. "As you wish, princess."
Just as she helped her up, Bleu took that as her cue to interrupt.
"Guys? Lunch is ready." Bleu smiled easily and stiffened when she watched Paris rise to her full height while grabbing her waterbottle. Good heavens, all that toned goodness.
"Lunch first then," Natasja clapped her hands. "We'll continue training later."
"Thank goodness," Paris said before taking gulps from her bottle. Bleu watched her throat bob as she drank, her other hand resting on her lean hips. When she finished, she set her bottle down and unstrapped the gloves on her hand. She reached for the small towel next and proceeded to wipe the sweat off her body, completely unaware of the effect she was having on Bleu.
"You'll catch flies if you keep your mouth open like that," Natasja chuckled behind her before drinking from her own water bottle. "I feel the exact same way about mine."
Bleu just shook her head in amazement. She was turning nineteen soon and Paris was only turning eighteen. What kind of training did she go through to get this body in a year?!
"I'll go upstairs first," Natasja said. "I must be there for Kael when she gets back." Her voice was wistful, obviously missing her lover.
Bleu absentmindedly nodded, still quietly staring at the tall brunette like some sort of pervert.
Paris followed Natasja out. "What time is Kael coming back?"
"I'll let you know."
"Thanks," Paris grinned. "We'll be up in about ten minutes."
Then she locked the door.
Paris turned around and slowly walked to Bleu. When they were just a few inches apart with Bleu's breathing chest hitting hers, she leaned it slowly.
The blonde held her breath, automatically closing her eyes and standing slightly on her tiptoes.
But Paris had merely leaned over to grab her waterbottle from behind her. When Bleu opened her eyes, Paris was regarding her with a smirk playing on her lips and an eyebrow raised, a finger tracing the rim of her bottle.
Why the little sneak.
"I'm going upstairs," Bleu growled, suddenly in a bad mood. She didn't like that Paris played with her like that. She felt so desperate. She can take care of it herself.
She turned to walk away but was stopped by Paris' low voice.
"I told her we'd be up in ten minutes. Come back here."
"No." Bleu turned and stared at her indignantly, secretly embarrassed that she had been caught anticipating a kiss like that. She held on to whatever pride she had left with her 'hello kitty' shirt and pajama shorts.
Paris' lip twitched, curving into a half-smile. She dropped her bottle and crossed her arms in front of her half-naked torso, leaning on one leg. Her stance was dominant.
"I won't say it again," the princess tilted her head. "Come here."
Bleu kept her frown in place and copied the taller girl's posture, crossing her arms and lifted her chin defiantly. It turned her on that the shy Paris had an authoritive dominant side. "And I won't repeat my answer," she narrowed her eyes. "No."
Paris chuckled, and before Bleu could wonder what the fuck was so funny, she was being dragged to the game room. She gasped when the edge of the pool table hit the back of her hips and she fell back on her elbows. She was speechless, staring up at the tall beauty who had her hands resting on her hips, a smirk once again on her perfect face.
"You were staring at me," she leaned in, placing both of her hands on either side of Bleu's body and making the blonde lean back even more. She playfully leaned in to whisper the rest. "Like you wanted to fuck me."
Bleu couldn't take it anymore. She grabbed Paris' neck and slammed her lips to hers, taking a deep breath through her nose and inhaling that special scent that only the princess seemed to have. Her tongue ran through the seam of Paris' lips, seeking entrance. The brunette playfully resisted, keeping it closed before Bleu growled and bit her bottom lip, making her hiss and allowing her just enough space to slip her tongue through to dance with hers. Paris softly laughed, removing her hands from either side of Bleu. The fingers on her left hand started massaging into silky blonde strands, while the other hand kneaded her ass.
Bleu jerked when she felt long, deft fingers creep past her pajama drawstrings. Almost simultaneously she softly moaned when they started to slowly rub her clit. Paris released her lips then to slowly trail her tongue up her neck. She softly bit her earlobe at the same time as when she slipped her fingers inside the blonde's underwear.
Bleu released her hold on Paris and gripped the edge of the pool table for support.
"Please," she panted and she started shamelessly grinding her crotch against her hand. "Put it in."
"Put what in?" Paris whispered against her cheek.
Bleu groaned. This is not the time for teasing!
"Your fingers," She panted, reaching down to grab the princess' wrist. "I want your fingers to fuck me."
Paris' reply was her wish. She slipped a finger in, her thumb rubbing her clit in a circular motion. Bleu threw her head back, "More. Give me more."
The brunette was breathing hard. Never had she witnessed anything as erotic as having a fully dressed beauty clutching at her with her hand in her pants. Who knew she'd have the famous Bleu Ivy at her mercy like this? So she complied and added another.
Soon, two fingers turned into three and Bleu let out a low moan, her head bowing as she breathed hard. Without warning, Paris took her fingers out then shoved it back in, wiggling her fingers as she did so. Bleu had a mini orgasm then.
"Faster," Bleu panted and Paris couldn't help kissing her again.
"Fuck," Paris did as she was told, her fingers going in and out of the blonde's pussy so quickly her arm started to ache.
"Your pussy feels so good wrapped around me," Paris growled in Bleu's ear and she lost it. She scrunched her eyes shut and threw her head back as waves after waves of pleasure vibrated through her. Her mouth opened in an "O" and she squeezed Paris' fingers tight.
When it was over, her knees gave out and she fell against the table, limp. She opened her eyes in time to see Paris lick her fingers clean.
"Come on, it's lunch time."
"Kael!" Paris practically attacked the newcomer, enveloping her in a tight hug that probably crushed her bones.
"Mein Gott!" Kael wheezed. "You'll make it worse."
"Oh sorry," Paris quickly pulled away, rubbing her arm. "I've been waiting by the door since the car arrived!"
"I know," Kael muttered as Natasja came by her side and kissed her cheek. "I could hear you."
"No way," Bleu cut in. "She jumped up and down while you were only getting out the car. After that she was as quiet as a mouse."
Natasja chuckled. "Kael's hearing is almost superhuman. It was developed while she was still blind."
"Woah," Bleu looked at Kael. "You were blind? When?"
"And how come I didn't know about this?" Paris crossed her arm over the white shirt she had changed into after taking a shower. After the session with Bleu downstairs, she noticed the blonde was practically spent so she took a cold shower instead. She still couldn't believe they had lost control like that.
"I was blind for three years," Kael sighed, slowly walking into the house. "I got surgery for them because this certain beautiful, french, billionaire girl paid for everything and here I am. Blessed with seeing this beautiful face." She affectionately nuzzled Natasja as she helped her up the stairs.
Bleu and Paris shook their heads. Kael was filled with surprises.
"What happened?" Damon Ivy came in the front door last, having just parked his car. "What's with the looks?"
"Nothing dad," Bleu smiled, tiptoeing and kissing her dad on the cheek. "It's lunch time."
She was happy at this moment. What she felt around Paris was unlike anything she'd ever felt before, it was so intense. And a few moments ago they had shared something she had been dreading to do with Dean for the past year. Maybe it really does have something to do with it being the right person. She was unexplainably happy.
They were just about to go into the dining area when the doorbell rang.
Bleu looked at her dad. "Are we expecting someone?"
He shrugged, walking over to look through the peephole. Seeing who it was, he leaned back to open the door.
"What the heck is going on? Did I miss something? Did you elect yourself as president?" A frowning Brooke stood there tapping her foot on the ground. "Why the hell were there security out there demanding for my birth certificate!?" She saw Bleu's dad standing at the side and smiled brightly. "Hi Mr. Ivy!"
"Hey Brooke," Damon chuckled, closing the door. "You're just in time for lunch. Why don't you join us?"
"Not a problem," Brooke patted her belly. "Not a problem at all."
Then she narrowed her eyes at Bleu. "We're not done talking you-"
"Hey don't do that," Paris was trying to hide her smile. "Your eyes will disappear."
Brooke scoffed indignantly and flipped her hair, stomping to the kitchen. "Racists." She muttered.
Paris and Bleu looked at each other and burst out laughing. They loved the feisty asian girl.
Soon, the twins would arrive.
And so would the questions.