Cassette had slept over so I could help her dye her hair. She went pink. My own hair was purple and blue, the shades of a bruise. Last night, in the aqua tiled bathroom my brother and I shared, she kissed me. Her lips tasted like late summer apricot. I pushed her onto the toilet seat, straddling her thigh.
“Aether,” she gasped as I pressed against her.
I hushed her as I ground myself on her thigh.
“Cassette,” I whispered in her ear. She tilted her head and bit my neck. She was sucking on my skin. “I want you,” she whispered back to me. I kissed her again. She made me feel funny. I wanted her the way I should and sometimes did want boys.
“Cassette, please. It’s time to rinse your hair,” I said, climbing off her lap. She knelt over the edge of the bathtub. Her ass looked plump. I leaned up against her, pressing into her and reaching up to turn on the tap. I could hear her panting as I rinsed the dye from her hair. The pink washed down the drain. She worked her hips against me. I could tell what she wanted. That’s how I wound up with a pink-haired pixie in my bed this morning. I looked her over.
“Come on Cas,” I whispered, shaking her gently. She just groaned.