This girl will actually be the death of her. If Laura puts yet another stop to this make out session, Carmilla thinks she'll probably die, or have some kind of stroke, because Laura keeps making satisfied little noises into her mouth every time Carmilla moves her hands to Laura's thighs and squeezes, pulling her closer into her lap. This is the part where Laura keeps pulling back — to talk, or to laugh, or to breathe — just when things start to get mildly interesting.
Laura moves her lips to Carmilla's neck and she's actually grateful for the interruption when it comes — as much as she loves the graze of Laura's teeth against her skin, she doesn't expect her mother would appreciate a bruise she hadn't put there herself. It's not a situation she's eager to explain. When Laura pulls back, she doesn't complain.
"Okay, I'm about to say something really petty and jealous and just, well, completely childish, actually." Laura kisses her again, since this is pretty much their only method of communication these days. Talk. Kiss. Talk some more. Kiss some more. "Like, totally childish." Another kiss. "And really petty, I mentioned petty already."
Carmilla thinks she can say whatever she damn well pleases as long as Laura keeps sucking on her lower lip like this.
"And you're not allowed to hold it against me or bring it up later, because I'm completely aware of how immature I'm being, and also because I said so."
Carmilla's hands move to cup Laura's cheeks and she kisses her once, just enough to make it count, before she lets her pull back again. "Wanna spit it out sometime this week?"
"Am I a better kisser than Elsie?"
(Why is she not surprised?)
"Elsie who?"
Confusion flashes across her face and she can see the words "you know who" written all over Laura's expression until it fades into a smile and she kisses her again. "Okay. Good answer."
Laura shifts against her and Carmilla sinks back against the couch while they kiss. When Laura gets dangerously close to leaving another mark — this time just below her jaw — Carmilla pushes against her shoulder.
"What about me? Better than Kirsch?"
Laura sits up straighter, and it's the cause of a significant amount of unintentional friction. Laura laughs, and she's not sure if it's in response to her question or just her nervous habit.
"Better than seven minutes in a closet at Betty Spielsdorf's thirteenth birthday party?" Laura hums into another kiss. "Much."
It's another few minutes of kissing before they get back to the same place they keep stopping at — Laura's hands in her hair, Carmilla gripping at her sides, scratching the fabric of Laura's jeans over her thighs. Laura pushes her back into the couch, their chests pressed together and straight up moans into her mouth. It's soft, but it's there, and Laura pulls back almost immediately.
"Tell me about your first kiss." Laura's chest heaves against hers and her breath is hot against Carmilla's skin.
She takes a second to catch her breath. "Isn't it rude to talk about ex-girlfriends with current girlfriends?"
Laura frowns. "I'm just asking about one of your exes." She doesn't miss her tone of voice — it's pouty and a little bitter.
Carmilla takes pity on her. "I only have one ex."
"Elsie?"
"She doesn't count."
"Okay." She thinks about that. "How many girls have you not counted?"
"Laura."
She sighs and sits back a little. Laura gives her a quick peck on the lips before she shifts her weight towards her left side, swinging her body back towards the couch.
