527. Chapter 527

She seems firmly against pants when they’re home, but Maggie is almost always in some type of shirt.

Whether it’s Alex’s tee and Alex just wants to feel the material that she so often has felt covering her own skin, this time tinged with Maggie’s body heat, with Maggie’s scent, grabbing her forward just above the hem of the shirt, so her fingers can just barely start to skate across her stomach.

Or whether it’s Maggie’s oversized NCPD windbreaker, hauling her in for a long, passionate make out session that has Winn whooping and J’onn covering his smile with his hand, because Maggie’s hair is windswept and her muscles are corded and her eyes are shining with the tense exhilaration of surviving another firefight, of getting her team out alive, of not having to kill anyone in the process.

Or whether it’s Maggie’s motorcycle jacket and Alex can’t wait until they get into the bar, because she’s just taken her helmet off and she’s got that smile that’s just for Alex, that’s just for the woman she’s absolutely crazy about, and maybe it’s poor dating protocol because aren’t kisses supposed to be at the end of the night, but Alex can’t wait, and god, Maggie doesn’t want her to.

Or whether it’s one of Maggie’s collared shirts, the ones she’ll wear to work under those suit jackets – damn, those suit jackets – or the ones she’ll wear around the apartment, some of them hers, some of them Alex’s, and collars have never looked so enticing to Alex as they do around Maggie’s neck and god, god, the first time Maggie wears a tie around Alex, it’s not just the collar that Alex tugs her forward by.

Whatever the outfit, whatever the context, Alex loves tugging Maggie in for kisses.

Endless kisses.

Kisses that sometimes end in giggles and kisses that sometimes end in making slow, sweet, passionate love and kisses that sometimes end in hard, fast, clothes-ripping, earth-shattering sex.

Kisses that always, no matter what the context, leave them both breathless.

The first time, she was hesitant.

The first time, she was fresh off of Maggie’s gentle explaining to her, of why she always pauses while they’re making out, why she always asks if Alex wants her hands under her shirt, if Alex wants her hand unbuttoning her jeans and touching her over her underwear, if Alex wants to be kissing, if Alex wants to be holding hands.

The first time, she was fresh off of learning about consent, about how deeply Maggie respects her wants, respects her boundaries, respects her body. It was unfamiliar and it was oddly emotional, but it felt like something that felt like love.

So the first time, she was hesitant, because she wanted to show Maggie the same kind of respect, the same kind of consent, that Maggie was always so active about checking in with her.

So when she grabs her lapel, by instinct – like she’s grabbed her arm that first time, that first kiss – she looks at her lips and she licks her own but she forces herself to pause, forces herself to wait. To ask.

“Something you want, Danvers?” Maggie husks, her body pliant under the intensity of Alex’s gaze.

And she’s just learning to talk about things she wants, but Alex Danvers is nothing if not a fast learner.

“I want to pull you in for a kiss, but I want to make sure you want that, that you’d like that, that – “

But Maggie is reaching up to secure Alex’s grip on the lapel of her jacket and she leans up to crash their lips together, and she swoons, and Alex swoons, and thank Rao they both have such extensive balance training because otherwise, they would have come toppling down.

“So you’re saying you like that? Because that’s… that’s what I got,” Alex croaks when they finally part for breath, and Maggie smiles that megawatt smile.

“You’re a scientist, Danvers. See if your experiment has reproducible results.”

And oh, it does.