My skull throbs with each heartbeat, a symphony of pain conducted by whatever the hell happened last night. I crack one eyelid open, immediately regretting the decision as sunlight stabs through the window like a vengeful god. Naked flesh pressed against mine radiates warmth, the familiar curve of Emily's body nestled against me under the sheets.
Fragments of last night float through the fog of my brain, wine glasses refilled again and again, Emily's laughter growing looser with each sip, Holly's carbonara, rich and creamy on my tongue, and then... nothing. Just disconnected flashes that refuse to form a coherent timeline.
Emily stirs beside me. She rolls over to face me, her eyes fluttering open with visible effort. Even half-asleep and clearly hungover, she's breathtaking.
"Mmmm," she groans, one hand rising to shield her eyes from the offensive sunlight. "I think I pushed it too hard last night."
I smile despite the jackhammer in my head and pull her closer, burying my face in the crook of her neck. Her skin smells like sleep and faint traces of yesterday's perfume.
"You and me both," I mumble against her collarbone. "What the hell happened?"
Emily's arms wrap around me, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on my back. "Wine," she says simply. "Too much wine. Holly's carbonara was amazing, though, wasn't it?"
"Yeah," I agree, though my memory of the meal itself feels strangely distant, like watching a movie through frosted glass. "I remember that part clearly. Everything after gets... fuzzy."
"Did we..." I gesture vaguely between our naked bodies, suddenly aware of a strange, unfamiliar ache in my muscles, like I'd exercised in ways I'm not used to.
Emily glances down at our state of undress, then around the room before erupting into soft laughter. "I guess so," she says, wincing slightly as her own laugh aggravates her headache.
"You don't remember either?" I ask, probing my own foggy memories for any hint of what happened between us last night.
"Not a thing," she admits, a blush spreading across her cheeks.
I concentrate, pushing my brain into overdrive, searching for any fragment that might make sense. A strange image flashes through my mind, hands on someone's throat, a request whispered in the darkness.
"I think..." I hesitate, uncertain if I'm remembering reality or some wine-soaked dream. "I think you asked me to... to force myself on you?"
Emily's eyebrows shoot up, her blue eyes widening. "Hmm? That doesn't sound like something drunk me would want," she says, looking genuinely perplexed.
"Yeah, that's what I thought too." I rub my temples, trying to make sense of these disjointed memories. "Weird."
She studies my face, a playful smile slowly spreading across her lips. "Maybe you dreamed it," she suggests, her fingers tracing my jawline. "Maybe it's something you secretly want to try?"
"No, definitely not," I say quickly, feeling a tightness in my chest at the suggestion. I pull her closer, wrapping my arms more securely around her warm body. "That's not something I fantasize about at all."
Emily's eyes sparkle with mischief as she traces a finger along my collarbone. "Are you absolutely sure?" she teases, her voice dropping to that honey-sweet tone that usually makes my knees weak. "Con non-con is actually a pretty common kink, you know. Lots of couples explore it in a safe, consensual way."
I shake my head against the pillow, wincing slightly as the movement amplifies my headache. "I just don't think that's for me," I say softly, meeting her gaze.
Her expression shifts, the playful teasing melting into something warmer, more tender.
"That's okay too," she whispers, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead.
A sharp knock interrupts us, making both our heads jerk toward the door. Emily and I exchange panicked glances before hastily pulling the covers up to our chins, her body pressing tight against mine in our scramble to appear decent.
The door swings open and Holly strolls in, already dressed for the day in jeans and a university sweatshirt. Her hair is pulled back in its usual neat ponytail, wire-rimmed glasses perched on her nose. She surveys our obvious state of undress with a knowing smirk that makes heat crawl up my neck.
"Well, aren't you two the picture of romance?" she says, leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed. "I thought you'd sleep till noon after all that noise last night."
My stomach drops. "Noise?"
Holly's smile widens. "You two lovebirds nearly kept me up all night."
I feel my face burning hotter than the surface of the sun. Emily shifts beside me, pulling the blanket higher until it's practically touching her chin.
Emily bites her lip and glances at me before turning to Holly. "About last night... did we finally bury the hatchet?" There's such hopeful vulnerability in her voice that it makes my chest ache.
Holly's eyebrows shoot up. "You don't remember?"
"I…" Emily falters, her fingers clutching the sheet tighter. "No, I'm afraid the wine..."
"I'm sorry," Holly says, her expression softening slightly. "We didn't get that far."
Emily's face falls, the light in her eyes dimming. "Oh."
"No, it's fine," Holly continues, adjusting her glasses with a practiced gesture. "We both agreed to be civil, at least. I'm just... not ready to be friends yet." She pauses, her shoulders dropping a fraction. "But you are my mother, after all."
The words hang in the air between them, loaded with history I can only guess at. Emily nods slowly, accepting this crumb of reconciliation with quiet dignity.
"That's a start," she says softly.
Holly shifts uncomfortably, her eyes darting to me before focusing back on her mother. "Anyway, I made coffee. It's in the kitchen when you two are... decent."
Holly lingers for a moment, her eyes meeting mine with an intensity that makes me uncomfortable. Then she turns on her heel and disappears down the hallway, her footsteps fading into the kitchen.
Emily exhales deeply once she's gone, a sigh that seems to deflate her entire body. Her shoulders slump forward, and the hopeful light in her eyes dims to something more resigned.
"I'm sorry it didn't work out how you hoped," I say softly, reaching out to stroke her arm. "With Holly, I mean."
"It's fine," Emily replies, but her voice catches slightly. "At least she's talking to me without calling me a whore. That's more than I had before." She turns to face me fully, her blue eyes searching mine. "Baby steps, right?"
I nod, not trusting myself to say the right thing. What do I know about mother-daughter relationships?
Emily shifts closer, wrapping her arms around me with unexpected fierceness. Her body molds against mine, warm and familiar, a perfect fit. When she pulls back slightly, the look in her eyes steals my breath away, like I'm her entire universe compressed into human form.
"You still need me, right, Danny?" she whispers, vulnerability naked in her voice. Her fingers trace my jawline with such tenderness it makes my chest ache.
Heat floods my face as I recognize the raw need behind her question. This beautiful, confident woman is asking if I still want her, still need her. As if there could ever be any doubt.
"Of course," I reply, my voice rough with emotion. "Always."