Chapter Text
They had been going at it for months. Carson had gotten used to the texts, just telling them the place and time, and they’d be lying if they said they hadn’t been enjoying themselves.
“My office. 4pm.”
Carson put their phone away and went on to teach their class, mentally ensuring that they were not giving too much thought to the imminence of their encounter. Every few days or so, they would meet at the office, usually Greta’s. Greta Gill was the Head of the School of Social Science overlooking Carson’s whole department, and no one would really think to question people’s daily comings and goings from her office, which made things considerably easier for them.
Like every time just before they were to meet, Carson would rush around and most likely drop their things in a frenzy while trying to be ready on time. The usually serious and contained, sometimes ironic anthropology lecturer completely lost it every time they went into Greta-mode. Once their feet would grace the carpeted floor of the redhead’s department, it was as if they were responding to some divine calling. As if the pretty dull-looking communal office they worked in every other day appeared to them in a different light. The rows of monitors, the discarded mugs, the family pictures of their colleagues – all the details of the scenery they were so familiar with seemed to jump out, and everything just seemed more real, more palpable, like they were watching themselves float around the room on a movie screen.
They brushed a hand over their cream ribbed suit to rid it of imaginary dust and unbuttoned their blazer, ideally wanting to appear as cool but contained. No matter how long they had been having these little encounters, they couldn’t get used to the feeling of walking up to Greta’s office. Every time felt anew. Every time made them come alive under a new light. Every time was a sanctification.
Carson didn’t bother to knock anymore. The door flew open, and they found Greta already sitting on the edge of her desk, eager. The way she stared, already hungry for them, Carson couldn’t get over. Greta was wearing her favourite floral dress, an indigo garment covered in roses that matched her lipstick, and a ruffled collar that complimented her delicate features, and well, if you asked Carson, her absolutely insane body.
Greta smirked, batting her eyelashes at her as she bit her lower lip. She threw her head back and let her auburn curls cascade down her shoulders. She shifted slightly and tugged at her dress, impatiently waiting for Carson’s lips to crash into hers.
The door shut, the blinds were drawn, and in no time, Carson was all over her. They kissed her ardently, allowing Greta’s tongue to intertwine with theirs. Carson nudged themselves between the taller woman’s legs, and their hands found Greta’s hips and hooked their fingers around her waist, pinning her down onto the desk and closing the distance between them. Greta moaned into her mouth as she felt Carson’s knee pressing against her centre. Carson tugged at her skirt suggestively, to which Greta followed immediately. She sat up and hiked it up completely, spreading her legs over the edge of the desk almost obscenely. Carson’s mouth dropped open and they took a step back to take in the sight, removing their knee in the motion and eliciting an audible whine from Greta. They loved seeing Greta like this, so needy and impatient for them. Thank god no one was around the communal office at this time of day.
“Like what you see?” Greta teased, tongue brushing over her lips.
Carson’s cheeks turned red. They wanted to come off as confident, not only because Greta liked seeing that in them, but because that’s how they wanted to be with her. Their words came out a little more brittle than intended, eyes lost in the picture of the dishevelled redhead.
“I do, yes. Very much.” They couldn’t help but stare, taking in Greta’s features before looking up to meet her gaze.
“Damn, Shaw. I’m so ready for you.” Greta whined, awaiting her touch. “Please don’t make me wait.”
Greta’s hand dropped to her inner thigh. It slowly made its way up as she started to tease herself, still looking Carson in the eye. Carson’s face was burning. No matter how many times they had seen Greta like this, it never failed to make their breath heavy. They could already feel the pulse of arousal between their own legs.
“Well I might have to, you know.” Carson lingered, eyes still glued on her. Greta’s eyes shut as her thumb brushed against her clit through the lace fabric. Head falling back and lips parting, she let out a purposefully quiet moan. Her teasing Carson always seemed to work, and it didn’t fail this time.
As much as they were enjoying the view, Carson took a step forward and grabbed Greta’s hand. Taking it in their own, they pushed down hard. Lips pressed against Greta’s jawline, they bit at it sharply. A desperate moan left Greta’s lips, and she shifted closer, tightly pressing Carson's body against hers. Carson led Greta’s hand and drew wide circles around her clit, using their other hand to dig into her hip. Greta groaned in their ear, and Carson buried their head in her neck, tracing their lips up to the spot just behind her ear, which only made Greta squirm louder.
“I need more, Carson.” She managed to breathe out. Carson executed themselves, shifting their hand from Greta’s hip to the hem of the lace and pulling at it slightly.
“May I?”
“Please.” Greta practically begged in desperation, panting. Damn was she eager.
Carson didn’t need any more encouragement. They discarded the piece of underwear and placed their own hand between Greta’s legs. They moaned into her neck, finding Greta already wet, and lay their fingers flat against her clit. Greta’s back arched as she pushed herself against Carson’s hand, head flying right back as Carson’s mouth left marks all over her neck.
“Oh god.” Greta panted.
Carson let their fingers draw tighter and tighter circles, and Greta’s breath got heavier. Grinding against her, Carson grabbed her by the neck and pressed their lips against Greta’s, pulling and biting at her lower lip. Greta moaned loudly into her mouth, and Carson picked up the pace in tune with Greta’s screams echoing around the room.
Greta was a mess, hair all over the place and ready to come undone under their touch. Carson placed their knee behind their hand and added pressure, and Greta shot right up. Breathless, she grabbed Carson’s hips and pulled them above her. She mindlessly cleared the space behind her with one hand and lay down on the desk, and Carson hunched over her and slammed their whole body against her.
“Fuck. Please, Carson.” She cried out desperately.
Carson smirked and pushed her legs even farther apart. They slipped two fingers inside of her, thumb pressed down hard against her clit. Greta’s moan got stuck in her throat at the feeling of Carson’s fingers thrusting inside her. Carson grabbed her by the neck with her free hand, forcing their gazes to meet.
“I want you to look at me.”
Greta quickly nodded in obedience.
“I want you to watch me fuck you.”
Greta’s gasped at their display of authority. Carson leant in and bit sharply into her lower lip, still holding her neck.
“Fuck. Fuck, Carson.” Greta couldn’t say any more.
Carson slipped a third finger inside of her, and Greta arched her back so hard she might have broken it. Carson thrusted harder and picked up the pace, their thumb pressed down flat. Greta couldn’t help the obscenely loud moan that left her lips. The feeling of Carson inside her was enough to send her off the edge. She came loudly, panting and trying to steady herself on Carson’s hips. Her whole body was shaking under them as Carson maintained their pace and let her ride it out.
Once she could finally come up for air, Greta placed a chaste kiss on their lips, slowly regaining her senses. Carson broke the kiss and brought their fingers to their lips, deliberately staring at Greta as they licked them clean. Greta giggled in satisfaction and pulled them back in for a kiss. She tried hard not to smile against their lips and pulled back just as Carson’s tongue practically reached the back of her throat.
Greta took a deep breath and placed her hand on Carson’s shoulders, pushing them back swiftly. She gave them a shy smile, a little awkward, and it came off as more of a friendly smile than a “we just fucked” kind of smile. Carson smiled in turn, a little taken aback. This was what Greta was like, every time. She would grab her hand mirror off the desk and brush her fingers through her hair to fix it. Carson stared as Greta wiped her smudged lipstick off with the back of her hand, gathering herself and regaining her usual look, one so perfect their encounter would go unnoticed.
And then it was as if nothing had happened.
Greta stood up and made her way around the desk, walking past Carson. She took her seat and looked up expectantly. This would always happen. Greta didn’t bother to ask them to excuse themselves anymore, and even if they sometimes let their gaze linger, Carson didn’t bother to watch Greta delve back into her work with unsettling ease.
There was always some sense of emptiness after the moment had passed, like Carson had given away a part of themselves to Greta, but not in the way they wanted. After all, there is only so much fun you can have with someone who doesn’t seem to care. And Carson lost themselves a little bit more every time they met. Carson cared so much, so deeply, yet Greta didn’t seem to feel the same way about them. They wouldn’t even know what to call what they had. “Our little arrangement” as Greta would say. The way Greta spoke about it just made Carson feel so small, powerless, and somewhat used. They had quite frankly had enough of it, and they were going to have to do something about it.
On the other hand, Greta was having the time of her life, or at least that was what she wanted Carson to be left thinking. This was the first time that someone was willing to give themselves, fully, not to her but for her. None of the countless flings she had had in the past could match up to what she had with Carson. Carson was passionate, a little weird, and well, themselves. They were all the things that Greta wasn’t, and everything she’d ever dreamed of in a partner. But they weren’t partners, they were colleagues, and Greta couldn’t allow herself to think otherwise. She had sworn to herself, after Dana, not to do this to someone else. She couldn’t live with herself if she ever hurt Carson, and she thought of their little arrangement as a form of protection for the both of them and, well, perhaps from each other too.
*
It had started with a one-night stand, or more of a one-afternoon stand really.
Carson had noticed that Greta’s stares had started lingering a little more than usual, and they felt a burn in the pit of their stomach every time they had to meet one-on-one. Greta had been sending them what Carson took for signals of some sort for a little while now. There would always be moments that left Carson wondering. A graze of a hand against their shoulder, a lick over the lips when she spoke, looking directly into Carson’s eyes – but always very discreet when colleagues were around. Inside Greta’s office, though, her subtlety didn’t seem to play by the same rules.
Whenever they had a meeting, just the two of them, Greta would brush her fingers through her curls with achingly slow intent, staring at Carson like she was trying to elicit a reaction from them. She would bend back from her desk and rest her back on her chair, arms crossed, absentmindedly crossing her legs so that her skirt would hike up an inch and let them catch a glimpse of skin. She always did so in a manner that would be deemed correct, revealing just enough for Carson to notice. And oh boy had they taken note of it. Every time they’d see Greta fix her hair just before walking up to them to ask about some mundane course material, their heart would skip a beat just at the thought of speaking to her.
That was until that one meeting. God, Carson could never forget that day. Greta had called them in to discuss something related to their class, they couldn’t remember exactly what, something to do with sensitive material precautions. She was sitting across the desk, and Carson was digging herself into their chair at the sight of the strikingly beautiful woman. They were trying so hard to focus on her words that they barely took note of Greta standing up and circling around the desk to rest against the edge of it in front of Carson. Suddenly, there she was standing right above them and speaking in a noticeably softer, almost intimate voice.
“But I’m sure you’ll do amazing. You strike me as someone who’s very sensible about that.” She spoke in a way that was both assured and a little teasy. Carson looked up to meet her gaze, and Greta reached out to rest her hand on their shoulder. Carson shivered under her touch, and Greta’s hand slowly moved toward her cheek. She stroked it gently, making Carson blush. They licked their lips, and Greta smiled at them like she’d never smiled at them before.
They didn’t speak. They didn’t need to. Their lips found each other naturally, and moments later, Carson had her panting over the desk. Greta covered her moans with the back of her hand as she came loose under their touch. Carson moaned in satisfaction as the scream of their name filled the room. No matter how many times they’d pictured it, nothing they could’ve possibly imagined could compare to this. Head buried in ginger curls, their fingers moved like they knew exactly what they were doing, like they knew what Greta wanted. They were taken by how fast Greta came. Perhaps she had wanted this as badly as they had.
They had both left it to that, to a moment that had existed just between the two of them. They had both gotten what they wanted out of it, so they hadn’t planned on it happening again. But Carson had stuck around, they’d started showing up at her office, and Greta had simply taken their initiative as an invitation and had indulged herself. Why shouldn’t she, after all? Just when she had started giving up on hope, Carson had come into her life and opened her up again. Greta had never felt this free.
So, they had kept to this agreement, seeing each other a few times a week. While they had both been having fun for the past few months, Greta could sense some form of tension coming from Carson, and it only seemed to grow every time they were alone. She could tell that Carson had something on their mind and wanted to talk, they always wanted to talk. Greta had appreciated Carson’s holding back ever since they had agreed on making their encounters a regular thing, and as much as she knew how much of a talker Carson was, she was pleased by the fact that they could just keep it simple.
*
But this time, it wasn’t just about holding it back. Greta could tell that what Carson wanted to say could potentially jeopardize what they had. She dreaded what could come out of it, and she was determined to avoid it until Carson said anything. She was scared, scared of Carson’s feelings towards her, scared of Carson getting bored of her or worse, of Carson resenting her.