The couple looked at each other. Each took in how they felt, how the other looked, how the other felt up against their own skin. They’d been holding each other since the transformation had stopped.

 

Quinn dug her hands in just a bit around Tate’s dimpled ass. She let out a soft moan that could’ve passed for a sigh if she’d given it an ounce of thought.

 

“Perks of dating a bi girl, huh.” Tate laughed quietly at the absurdity. The once semi-irrelevant fact about Quinn seemed suddenly very pertinent.

 

“What!?” Quinn’s hands shot back up to the small of Tate’s back.

 

“Say, young lady, if your hands keep wandering like that I might have to ask you over for a nightcap.” Newfound confidence rolled off Tate in droves. Quinn wasn’t quite sure how to handle it. Tate had always been the more dominant one in their relationship, but cishet relationships had a way of getting in the way of themselves.

 

“Young lady.” Quinn couldn’t help but to play and replay the words in her head. Sure, it gave “Milady” energy but fuck if that wasn’t the best feeling.

 

“You’ve barely even touched your dinner, uh, sir.” She expected Tate to crack. The awkwardness and silliness were too much. Quinn let out a snicker to cut the perceived weirdness, but Tate didn’t budge. She shyly glanced down and then back up. Tate held her gaze and then slowly leaned in.

 

Quinn didn’t dare move a muscle. Tate’s mouth hovered next to her ear. She could feel the soft exhale from his lips and the heat it imparted as he spoke.

 

“Why finish that fast food when I have a five-course meal right here?”

 

Quinn went white. She blinked a few times to double-check everything was working. Pulled out of the situation it might’ve sounded dorky, but right then and there it was the single hottest thing anyone had ever said to her.

 

Quinn wracked her brain for a response. She had to say something. If she could get anything out, even one word, it would be a miracle.

 

“Fuck.”

 

Well, that was one choice of word.

 

Then warmth spread throughout Quinn as she felt Tate’s hot slightly prickled mouth on her neck.

 

“Fuck…” That time he had drawn it out of her without Quinn having to think. The word was long and filled with a breathy lightness. Quinn’s hands had been sitting loosely around Tate’s back but now clenched the hem of his shirt. Like her words, Quinn’s hands seemed to have a mind of their own as they bunched the fabric into tight fists.

 

Tate’s kiss came to an end, with a light flourish of teeth up against Quinn’s supple neck. The noise elicited from her was all the reward Tate could’ve wanted.

 

“I thought– you only– liked guys.” Quinn’s eyes were closed and she failed to speak without large exhales in between words.

 

Tate gently rose a hand to Quinn’s face, brushing his thumb delicately across her jaw. “Turns out I was as wrong about that as I was about my gender.”

 

Quinn let out a squeamish “Hmm,” as Tate pressed his lips up against hers. He kept thinking about how powerful he felt. All in all, he probably couldn’t lift any more weight than he had before, but that wasn’t what gave him the feeling of strength. It was all the rushing sensation of things feeling right.

 

Tate no longer felt at war with himself and that left him with an abundance of energy. He wanted to focus the energy on the girl who’d helped him achieve that realization.

 

Quinn’s lips parted for him in an instant, but Tate wanted to make triply sure the situation was as it seemed.

 

“Everything alright darling?”

 

Quinn moaned into his mouth, the “darling” again ringing in her ears. “Peachy.”

 

Tate wanted to laugh. Never before had he gotten such a thrill out of leaving a partner so without words.

 

“I take– that’s a yes?” He asked in between the meetings of tongue and lips.

 

“Ye–”

 

Tate cut her off with another deep kiss.

 

“Sorry, I didn’t catch that,” he said as he moved to the untouched side of her neck.

 

“Yeh…” He cut her off again, biting down ever so slightly as he pulled on her with his lips.

 

“Darling, you’re really not making any sense.”

 

Quinn’s face was contorted in pleasure and it gave Tate a devilish sense of joy.

 

“Say that– again,” she got out amidst Tate’s ministrations.

 

“Darling,” Tate said scrounging as much baritone and gravel to their voice as they could muster. He felt like a god and they were only on the foreplay. Quinn had all but melted in Tate’s hands, and for the first time since his brilliant transition, he found himself feeling weak. He was supporting most of her weight.

 

“Darling,” he said again, “Should we move to the couch?”

 

Quinn bit her lip and nodded, holding back any noise for fear of completely losing control of her inhibitions.

 

The couple navigated their way down to sitting. Their faces hardly separated, resulting in an awkward dance of situating and resituating.

 

“Fuck it,” Quinn said pushing Tate up against the back of the couch so she had the room to straddle on top of him.

 

She went for his ear, tugging at it more than just playfully. Tate had nearly forgotten that this wasn’t their first time together. Quinn knew a few things that Tate liked and that hadn’t changed one bit across bodies.

 

Quinn slid her hands underneath Tate’s shirt, gliding them across his chest. Tate took the cue and pulled his shirt off with one hand. While it hadn’t been a smoking gun, the one-handed over-the-back method of shirt removal that Tate favored had been one of the first tip-offs to Quinn that perhaps there was something fruity going on.

 

Watching them do it now set off sparks in Quinn’s stomach. Watching him was like watching the finale of the best film ever made.

 

However, it hadn’t occurred to Quinn that with Tate’s shirt off, it was open season for clothing.

 

Tate put one firm hand around the side of Quinn’s neck, while he slid the other up under her shirt onto her waist. Her skin was unbelievably soft and the pounds that she had gained in her transition added a layer of perfect squish wherever Tate’s hand rested.

 

Quinn for her part was buzzing where Tate touched her. She wanted them to touch her whole body at once but settled for the moment excited to see his approach.

 

They kissed, and Quinn was pulled in by Tate’s welcome grasp. Warmth spread from Tate’s warm hands to Quinn’s chilled body. Tate pushed up higher with his hands as the couple continued with kiss after kiss. Quinn’s mouth had long since opened for Tate, who thrust himself in. Then, Tate’s hands struck gold. Quinn’s breasts moved under his touch.

 

Quinn let out a long and deliberate moan, making sure that Tate knew exactly how much she approved of his actions. Tate dropped his other hand from her neck and slipped it too under her shirt. She bit her lip as her exhales raised in pitch.

 

Tate had always liked the way she bit her lip. He wasn’t sure if she’d ever realized she was doing it, and out of fear that she might stop, Tate had never told her. It was something cute that he felt was just for him.

 

To keep their balance, Quinn wrapped her arms around Tate’s neck. She leaned forward, touching her forehead to his. But this was where Tate began to falter. He’d never felt up a girl before, and for reasons that suddenly made a hell of a lot of sense, he had declined to do much in the way of self-exploration.

 

Quinn caught Tate’s moment of doubt but wasn’t about to let it kill the moment. She first leaned back to pull her shirt off. Then she placed her hands over the top of Tate’s. Quinn had had the cube long enough to have experimented on her own. She put one hand back around his neck for stability, while the other began to move Tate’s hand around.

 

Once Tate took to the rhythm he grew bolder. With great care to start light, he brushed a finger over Quinn’s already peaked nipple. He watched as it snapped back and how her breast as a whole jiggled underneath his grasp.

 

Quinn nodded in pleasure as Tate could feel himself loosening back up. He made slow circles around Quinn’s areolas and she in turn began to slowly shift her weight forward and backward. Tate’s movements set the pace and Quinn followed. This had the unintended effect of directly rewarding Tate for any new discoveries. A light pinch and Quinn’s hips bucked up against Tate’s own.