Abigail is humming to herself as she gets undressed in your room. You aren’t their and she’s staying there for a while.

She likes to explore the bedroom, looking at all the stuff you've got laying around. It's interesting, if not a little messy. Her eyes settle on a CD player, and she smirks. Gothic music would be perfect for tonight...

She walks over to the CD player and starts flipping through your music. "I found this," she says softly, holding up a gothic band's CD. "Think you'll like it?" She glances at you briefly before returning her gaze to the album cover.

That's alright, sweetie. Not everyone likes that kinda stuff. Maybe I can play something else? Or you could show me some songs you like.

She chooses one of her favorite songs from the CD and pops it into the player. The room fills with dark, brooding music as she curls up on the bed, closing her eyes and losing herself in the sound. It's oddly comforting, even though she knows it isn't exactly your thing.

She looks up at you with a shy smile. "Hi." Her eyes drift back to the ceiling as she listens to the music, content just to be close to you like this.

She blushes lightly. "Oh... It's just a thing I do, you know? Makes me feel... more comfortable." She fidgets with one of the gloves before looking away again, feeling a bit embarrassed by the question.

That makes sense. We all have our quirks, right? She smiles reassuringly, trying to make you feel less self-conscious about your own thing. Sometimes it helps to remind each other that we're all different, and that's what makes us interesting. Or maybe that's just how she tries to convince herself...

She glances down, then back up at you, blushing furiously now. "I-I'm sorry! It's just... sometimes when I listen to this kind of music..." Her voice trails off as she realizes she doesn't really understand why it affects her like this either. All she knows is that she enjoys it, even though she knows it isn't exactly typical behavior for someone her age.

She takes the offered panties with a nod of thanks. "Thank you," she whispers, carefully sliding them on beneath her skirt. Her heart is racing now, embarrassment burning in her cheeks. But at least you didn't make fun of her for it... that would have been really mortifying. Maybe you understand her just a little bit after all.

She looks at you nervously, her eyes darting back and forth between your face and the bed. "I... I'd like to sleep on the bed with you, if that's okay," she says quietly. It's not that she minds sleeping on the floor or anything; it's just nice to be close to someone sometimes. And of course you're her best friend, so why wouldn't she want to share a bed with you?

But even as she thinks this, another wave of nervousness washes over her at the thought of actually spending the night in such close proximity. What if something happens? What if...

She hesitates for just a moment longer before finally climbing onto the bed beside you. She lies on her side, facing away, and curls up into a tight little ball under the covers, trying to make herself as small and inconspicuous as possible. It's not that she doesn't trust you or anything; it's just that... well, sometimes she gets nervous like this.

The music continues to play softly in the background, casting a strange sort of comfort over everything despite her inner turmoil. She knows sleep is going to be difficult tonight, but maybe if she just focuses on breathing and not thinking about things... it'll be alright.

She shifts restlessly in her sleep, mumbling something incoherent beneath her breath. One arm throws off the covers and tangles with yours where it's draped across your chest, seeking warmth and reassurance even in dreams. Her face presses into the pillow, dark hair splayed out around her like a halo of black. As much as she tries to control her movements when she sleeps, her body betrays her and gives in to the unconscious need for closeness.

Her grip tightens on you, as if she's afraid she might lose hold and drift away. The sensation is strangely comforting despite the unease that follows it; a reminder that someone is here with her, even in this dreamworld where anything seems possible. But at the same time, it only serves to heighten the sense of vulnerability, because when she lets herself really feel it... she knows how much she needs this closeness, how desperate she can be for anyone's affection. Even yours.

She gasps softly in her sleep as you shift beneath the covers, her left breast bared to the cool air and the touch of your skin. Her back arches reflexively away from your body, but then her mind catches up with reality and she realizes what's happened. Panic surges through her veins at the thought that you might have seen... but no, surely not. Not like this.

Her breath comes in ragged gasps now, heart racing as adrenaline floods her system. She wants to move, to cover herself up and pretend nothing happened, but she's frozen in place by the fear that any movement will only draw your attention further. All she can do is lie there helplessly, praying that you won't say anything or touch her again...

She whimpers softly into her pillow, shoulders trembling with suppressed sobs as your movements jar her back to awareness. The relief that floods her when she realizes you didn't actually see or touch her is almost more than she can bear; it's like a physical weight has been lifted from her chest. But even though the immediate danger seems to have passed, she knows it hasn't gone away entirely. It's still out there somewhere, waiting.

And somehow, knowing that you were close enough to accidentally discover her secret only makes things worse. Because deep down, she wants you to know. Maybe not right now, and maybe not this way, but someday... she needs someone to understand why she is the way she is, why she does the things she does. And even though part of her knows that person might never be you, another part refuses to let go of that tiny shred of hope

Her eyes fly open as she realizes what's happening. She'd been lost in a dream, her hand moving on instinct even as her mind was miles away from the present. It takes her a moment to register your presence beside her, to remember where she is and why she's here...and then the panic sets in all over again. Her heart races, blood roaring in her ears like a waterfall as she tries desperately to think of something, anything, to say that will make this situation better.

But words desert her; they flee from her throat and disappear into the empty air between you. All she can do is look at you with wide, pleading eyes, hoping that somehow you'll understand. That maybe underneath everything else, she really is just as confused and frightened and lonely as she feels right now.

Her hand freezes. There's the evidence, smeared all over her favorite toy. Tears prick at her eyes and she can feel the shame burning in her cheeks. She knows there are no words that will make this okay; it was a stupid mistake, one she shouldn't have made. But in the darkness of the room, with you so close... it just happened.

She forces herself to meet your gaze, bracing for the anger or disgust she's sure must be there. But instead, you look confused, even a little hurt. It doesn't make her feel any better, but at least now she knows that she didn't lose everything with this one moment of weakness. Maybe... maybe if you can forgive her...

I know... I just... I don't want to keep doing stuff like that around you, Josh. You mean too much to me. If it makes things weird between us... I'm sorry.

She wipes her face roughly with the back of her hand, trying to get rid of the tears before they can fall any further. It hurts, knowing she made such a mess of things. But she's grateful that you aren't hating her for it, even if you don't understand why she did it in the first place. That small thread of hope she clings to is all she has left right now.

"No," she whispers. "That wasn't fair. You should have said something." She sighs heavily, resting her head on your shoulder. "Look, we both know what I am. What I do. This... thing between us shouldn't happen, but it did anyway. So, how about this? We go back to being friends, and when we're together, we act like nothing happened?"

Her voice breaks a little at the end, but she forces herself to hold your gaze. It would be easier to just let it all go, to pretend this was some strange nightmare from which she'll awaken any moment now. But deep down, she knows that isn't an option. She owes it to you to find a way through this mess, even if it means rebuilding what they call "friendship" from scratch.

She nods, relief flooding through her. Maybe they can still make something good out of this. Maybe, with time and effort, she can prove to you that she really is more than just a sexual object for you and everyone else. And maybe, in return, you'll come to see her as someone who deserves love and trust and respect... even if it doesn't happen today, or tomorrow, or next year.

But for now, she takes your hand in hers, squeezing it gently. "Thank you," she whispers. "For understanding."

She moans softly as you thrust inside her, hands braced against the mattress on either side. Her hips meet your movements eagerly, their familiar rhythm unlocking something deep within her. It's been so long since she's felt this way with someone else... it feels right somehow. Despite all that's happened tonight and everything they've said about being just friends, in this moment nothing else matters but the heat coursing through her body and the connection they share.

As you near your climax, she arches her back, pressing herself even closer against you, desperate for more of your touch. Her breath comes out in ragged gasps, tangling with your words as you murmur encouragement in her ear. The world fades away until there's only the two of them left: Abigail and Josh, locked together in a dance that feels ancient and familiar at the same time. And

Her eyes fly open as you groan softly in your sleep. The bed is warm where you've just been, and she can still feel the weight of your body beside her. But it's not enough; her heart aches with longing for more. With a shaky breath, she rolls onto her side, staring blankly at the wall as she tries to sort through the tangled mess of emotions inside her.

Part of her wants to apologize again, to explain that it wasn't what it looked like and she didn't mean for it to happen. But another part knows that won't change anything. All she can do now is wait for you to wake up and hope that... maybe things will be different this time.

She feels guilty, dirty even. Her body aches from their lovemaking and her mind reels with the memory of how good it felt to have you inside her. It was wrong, they both know that, but the need was so overwhelming... She turns away from you, trying to hide her flush from your gaze. Maybe if you think she's still asleep you won't hate her quite as much?

She winces, not sure if you're being sarcastic. A part of her hopes that you're not--that maybe there's still a chance for them to be friends after everything--but she can't bring herself to look at you right now and find out. So she keeps her eyes resolutely on the blanket, feeling like an awful person for what they just did.

It shouldn't have happened. They both knew better. But it did...and now there's no going back from this. She's lost everything: your friendship, her innocence...even if she doesn't know it yet, maybe she's even lost herself in the process. It hurts more than anything she could have imagined, and all she wants to do is crawl into a hole somewhere and disappear forever.

Her breath catches as you flip her over, your hands pressing firmly on her hips. She's no longer in control and the feeling both thrills and terrifies her. As you push inside again, harder this time, she arches her back, gasping out a moan of pleasure despite herself. Part of her wants to hate you for making her feel like this; another part relishes the intense sensation of being taken so roughly by someone who just yesterday was her best friend.

The world spins around them as they rock together, lost in a vortex of need and desire. There are no words left unsaid, no regrets or apologies or explanations that can possibly make this right. They're left with only their bodies, speaking the language of raw lust as they try to find some sort of solace amidst the wreckage of what was once a friendship built on trust and understanding.

It was an instinct. Something I couldn't control... It felt like the only way to regain some sort of power over this situation. But now that we're here, maybe it doesn't matter who's in charge anymore. We both want this as much as each other, don't we? Let's just ride out these feelings together and see where they take us...

...Well, you are sort of the one who started it. But we can share control, if that makes you more comfortable. Just tell me what to do... and I'll do my best to obey.

Her cries echo through the room as you slam into her over and over again. She tries to keep up with your pace, arching her back off the bed in desperation for release. Her nails scrape against your shoulders, leaving shallow trails of blood on your skin that only serve to heighten the experience.

The world shrinks down to this one room, these two bodies moving together in a primal dance of lust and dominance. They are no longer friends, no longer people with names and feelings and histories. All that matters now is the desire burning hot between them, driving them towards an end neither can quite see or control yet.

She gasps for air, finally able to break eye contact with you and look away as she adjusts to being back in control. Her movements are less forceful now, more measured as she takes her time driving herself against your hips. Her fingers dig into your shoulders, leaving bruises that will fade but never quite disappear as a reminder of this night.

This is... different. Not bad, just different. Being the one in control feels strange after so long of letting you take the lead, but there's something liberating about it too. Something that makes her feel powerful and wanted and needed. She wonders if she could ever find a way to have this sort of balance with someone else...or if it was just unique between them.

Her body trembles on the brink of release, sensitized from your earlier roughness, and she knows it won't be long now until she finds the relief she seeks. She concentrates on

The world goes hazy around her as she feels your body tense beneath hers. You arch off the bed with a shout, thrusting deep inside her one last time as you release yourself into oblivion. She shudders, eyes squeezed shut as her own climax finally crashes over her in waves of bliss.

Her legs tremble, and she collapses onto your chest in the aftermath, gasping for air and trying to find a way to process everything that just happened between them. It was... intense. More than either of them had ever expected or truly wanted. But now it's done, and all that's left is the mess they've made of their friendship--and each other.