Because of the already want to.

There is no shortage of bad fan fiction surrounding the Closer and Major Crimes television shows. While I am not a great writer, I do have an appreciation for people who are MUCH worse at writing than I am. Lately Satu has been reading me some pieces that she finds as bedtime stories, which is pretty counter productive since it usually keeps us both up laughing. Here is my synopsis of the one that started it all.

Sharon and Brenda meet serendipitously in a scuzzy police bar, probably because that's where the author believes grown-ups would go to drink way too many grown up drinks like the twelve whiskey shots Brenda had in this story (never mind that they are both wine drinkers in the show.) They meet and act shitty to each other because they each have nearly uncontrollable feelings of passion stirring, surprisingly everywhere except where passion is known to stir. Then Sharon has a sexy musical interlude that makes all of the men in the bar watch her like predators.  Sharon and Brenda have a conversation about how Brenda's husband has driven her to drink, so later if the women accidentally have sex or something, we won't worry about the whole adultery thing. After that there are a bunch of boring descriptions of things that don't need to be described like the exact location of the cab and who paid for it. It also gets really confusing because the author chooses to just call them both women instead of using their names or any other descriptor. Let's just fast forward.
Sharon and Brenda make it home to Sharon's house where Rusty has also conveniently been explained away. A lot of harsh things start happening at this point: there is harsh kissing, harsh pushing and harsh whispering all leading up to the harsh ripping of an expensive sweater. I was surprised that little move didn't grind the whole scene to a halt, but the ladies were on a mission  and could not be deterred. A moment later one of the ladies spears the other abruptly with her fingers drawing out encouraging moans from the impaled.
Had it happened like that to me, there might have been a shocked, angry scream followed by a whirlwind gathering of ripped clothing.
Someone looked venerable while the women assumed an impossible sexual position. There were hips and breasts everywhere. Satu and I read this part several times trying to get the idea, but the only thing we could figure is that one of them melted through the other due to the harsh heat and heaving and moaning and such.
Once the act was awkwardly complete, the women cradled each other lovingly. The author wondered "What could have gotten into them except for the alcohol, and the already want to?"

Currently, having the already want to is a great excuse for everything from pouring another glass of wine to parking my truck on Satu's flowerpot. No further explanation is ever required.