Work Text:
Vi’s gotten better at asking for what she wants.
Having spent much of her life with what she wanted well out of reach, gluttony and shamelessness should be second nature, but she’s never quite had the bite for it. She’s careful with what she has, humble, reasonable with all the decadence at her disposal. Brave enough to take what she needs and, typically, nothing else.
This is just plain ol’ fucking greed. And it’s glorious.
She’s laid back like a glistening main course, head on her hands and elbows jutting out the way she knows puffs out her chest just right, widens the heft of her arms, broadens her shoulders. Stubborn shower drops cling to a few bits of her, but she’s burning so hot they’ll probably be gone in seconds. Vi’s playing smug, quirking her lip just so, but her thigh twitches with the urge to bounce.
A burning blue eye rakes over every naked inch of her, the hard lines of her collarbone down to the dewy dark curls between her legs. Can’t swallow without her snapping to follow the bob of her throat. Can’t lick her dry lip without coaxing out a gapped grin.
Caitlyn is certainly taking her time. Vi has to allow her that, at least.
The sheriff’s in her sheriff uniform, sans cobalt jacket, hair up in that artfully messy ponytail she pulls off like a dream. Sitting that ass of hers down on her calves, pants sinfully tight as per her own, personal standard of making Vi’s life a lustful nightmare. Paired with the eyepatch, she looks perfectly fit for the office, were it not for one detail, grabbing at the bedsheets before her like the paws of a slobbering, starving wolf scraping dirt.
Her stark black shooting gloves, rough and fitting.
She barely finds the need to wear them, still uncertified to return to field work and shy about taking up shooting again too publicly. Vi’s gotten two or three glimpses of those particular gloves (two, she’s counted) after a long day at the range, and every time, they’ve ignited a thought in her that’s probably always been there. Only now, it can actually leave her mouth, ill-advised and equally unstoppable.
Keep them on.
Whispered in a hysterically stopless moment of desperation, perhaps not even five minutes after Caitlyn had come home and kissed her, tongued her, still in her crisp uniform. Vi knew she was fucked the moment the words blurted out of her. Hopefully, in a moment, deliciously fucked. Caitlyn had gaped at her, had quickly narrowed her brow, and Vi had felt much like one of her unhinged murder boards. A thing to poke at and figure out.
But then, Caitlyn had simply smiled. Like she’s doing now. Hungry, less sweet than she probably thinks she looks. In the dusky light of their bedroom, the shadows make this all look positively filthy. It’s not a position Caitlyn would ever put them in of her own accord.
Plain ol’. Fucking. Greed.
“Like what you see?” Vi coos, because one of them has to talk before she loses her mind.
It still ignites her blood, being sized up as if on opposite sides of a screaming, bright pit, but this is Cait. Feels kinda good to be made a meal for her. Would feel better if she did as meals did and was eaten. She’s desperate for Caitlyn to give in already. She can’t hog all the self-control.
Caitlyn cocks her head, just slightly, and sweat breaks out over every inch of Vi’s body. “Do you?”
Fuck, Vi licks her lips again, does she. Cait’s a practical woman, her closet exists in a tight spectrum of colour, she has outfits assigned to events, days of the week, hell, even specific errands. At night, she gets her in flowy drapes, sure, but in her daily wear, it’s all long sleeves and perfect pants. Oh, it’s so fucking hot.
If her turtlenecks happen to slip down the slope of her neck, Vi’s utterly gone. When she takes her blazer off, this indecent gap of skin between the end of her blouse sleeve and her glove appears like a bullet right through Vi’s stomach.
Vi’s so good at working with what little she’s got- glimpses.
She sees it now. That gap. The peek of her bra through the bunched-up fabric by her buttons. The baby hairs breaking from her two midnight strands. Her two naked trigger fingers, on one hand only, like a reminder to Vi of which two she gets fucked with. That she’s about to be fucked with? Hopefully?
“Yeah,” she finally answers, a little dumbly, and a lot breathlessly. She’s probably close to drooling, and her only saving grace would be that it would turn Caitlyn on. They had the foresight to put a towel beneath her, but Vi’s halfway to soaking right through it and she hasn’t so much as been flicked. God knows what’ll happen when Caitlyn actually gets to it.
If she ever does. Right now, she seems perfectly content to watch, a little shy, a little giddy, like she’s got no idea what to do with Vi. It’s cute, it’s frightening, it’s hot, as are all the best things about Caitlyn.
“I’ll be gentle,” Caitlyn promises, but she’s a bit cheeky about it. Vi feels utterly safe and, point-blank, afraid. Good, intense things happen when Cait is unleashed.
“Have fun,” Vi winks, and immediately undermines it by swallowing noisily.
“Oh, I plan to.”
Caitlyn presses her hand to Vi’s cheek and Vi’s clit jolts instantly. The relief of finally being touched by something other than the mattress beneath her is heaven- but Caitlyn puts no pressure on her at all. Her hand practically hovers, ghosting over the peach fuzz of her cheek, naked fingertips close to her earlobe but not quite there yet. It tickles. It’s turning Vi on at an alarming level.
It’s suddenly clear that I’ll be gentle isn’t an assurance as much as it is a warning.
Her fingertips go down to hook under her chin and bring her head up to meet Caitlyn’s gaze like she hadn’t already been staring. She’d expected a dominating act out of her, to be honest, but she’s looking much too sweet for that right now. Always so careful. Vi could take a bite out of her.
This kind of light touch would’ve paired well with a blindfold of some kind. There’d be an easy joke to make, some eyebrows to waggle over how it would feel familiar, that she’d just be missing the handcuffs. But this view is glorious. She can’t take her eyes off her girl, all dressed up, like she’d come home from a hard day of work. She had, had gone from the sitting room straight to the bedroom to find Vi, left her work files on a dresser. Her shoulders practically tremble with excitement- all because of Vi. Because she can’t wait to have her like this.
Her fingers take the road between Vi’s bare tits at a snail’s pace, the sensation fanning out to harden her nipples. Caitlyn’s eyes snap to one, but she’s trying to play cool about it, clearly, because they go woefully untouched and unsucked.
Every so often, Cait’s gloved palm glides against Vi’s skin, coaxing a full-body shiver out of her. She can’t be this high-strung already. She’s gonna have to last at least a reasonable amount of time once those fingers get inside her.
“You worked out today?” Caitlyn is brimming with curiosity and dripping with naked attraction.
“Later than usual,” Vi preens under her attention.
A hum. “I assumed.”
Vi smirks. “You saying I look bigger?”
“Yes,” Caitlyn says instantly. That full blooded honesty of hers knocks Vi on her ass every time. As much as she prides herself on being the only human being who can render Cait speechless, who is she kidding? It goes the other way, too.
Vi’s mouth has snapped shut. Caitlyn apparently decides she wants to tease her elsewhere. Her body unfurls as she leans over Vi, hand trailing up to take Vi’s. It forces her out of her false casual position, which makes her a bit sweaty, but Cait brings her hand to her mouth to kiss it, first gently over her knuckles, then open-mouthed on her palm.
Teeth press gently into the meat chunk of it, and it zings right down her wrist and makes the fingers of her other abandoned hand twitch. The slide of her leather glove over the sensitive skin her teeth leave behind makes Vi sigh, lean back, and accept that she’s gonna be Caitlyn’s plaything for a while.
“You’re oddly pliant,” Cait remarks, lips working against the base of Vi’s middle finger as she speaks.
Hard to answer, given the circumstances. “S’all for you,” Vi says, which is more honest than she intended to be and it’s still not the full truth. Cait knows it. She’s got that gleam in her eye that she gets when people think they can lie to her face.
“Well, thank you for your generosity,” Caitlyn murmurs, deadpan, but she’s smiling softly and- is it weird that certain words in that accent get her going? Thank you. It’s probably just the Cait effect. Or, Vi’s way easier than she’d like to be.
“Are you gonna get started anytime soon?” she huffs. This is pleasant, but the suspense is eating away at her, makes her liable to start gagging for it.
“I have started,” Caitlyn, the bastard, doesn’t even look at her, “This isn’t doing it for you?”
Vi frowns. Makes a show of it. “I don’t make you wait like this, do I?” She nudges Cait with her foot, tries to drag urgency out of her like one kicks a horse into motion. “How is this fair?”
“Yes, well, you do get quite desperate,” Caitlyn says like this is a fact of the universe, like one says water is wet, and Vi’s jaw drops fifty feet. Caitlyn outright snorts at her. It’s that one laugh she’s apparently been told isn’t very ladylike, and the one laugh Vi wants to listen to on repeat like a well-spun record, but right now it’s so fucking audacious. How dare she?
Patience isn’t her thing. Not in this, and not in keeping her mouth off Caitlyn any longer than she should. Cait knows. Teasy Caitlyn is the glorious aftermath of a war which had hardened her, and a gentle love that has gradually softened her right back. It’s a cute thing, but certainly not right now. Cait watches Vi scowl, and her smile mellows right up like she can’t help it.
“I’ll take care of you,” Caitlyn assures, kissing her jaw, and normally this would have Vi’s heart clenching, but Caitlyn punctuates this very heartwarming promise with a hard press of her palm right to Vi’s stiff nipple.
“Fuck-!”
She goes taught like a string pulled both ways. Caitlyn must like that- she kisses the underside of Vi’s chin in parting, and pulls back to give her a smile oozing self-satisfaction.
“Good?” she asks like she doesn’t already know the answer.
Her other hand comes up to cover her neglected breast. Cait typically has a careful, gentle approach to touching her like this- light plucks of her nipples or a soft squeeze of her tits, but here she rolls the buds beneath the rough leather of her palms and sinks her fingertips into her upper chest.
Vi, who’s been soaking wet since the makeout session that preceded this entire thing, can only arch to push her chest into Cait’s indulgent grip. Cait accepts the offer with a hum, rewards her with a swift kiss to her collarbone and a bunch of embarrassing murmurs- so good, so sweet, thank you, thank you.
A whine is halfway out of Vi’s mouth before she’s lunging up to kiss Caitlyn right on her smart lips, and Caitlyn takes it with a disapproving hum, pushing Vi back down onto the bed with those two naked trigger fingers.
“Eager,” she purrs, faking disapproval but looking far too pleased to ever fool anyone. Her trigger fingers trail back up between her tits, press lightly into her slack mouth to steal the spit off her tongue. She doesn’t push any deeper- not like Vi does for her- but she does linger shallowly with a smile that drips sugar.
It takes a lot for Vi to beg. She typically doesn’t have to- Cait is always quite desperate to give her what she wants. But this is agony. Turns out, it only takes a few months of Vi getting whatever she wants to turn her into a spoiled bastard.
“Touch me,” Vi pleads, the words hard to make around the gentle intrusion.
“Suck,” Cait orders instead.
The leather is sharp on her lips. It barely gets inside her, but it’s close enough to smell- mature, clean, Caitlyn through and through. These probably aren’t the ones that saw her through the war, the ones she was still wearing when Vi found her in that hospital bed, too much of an urgent case to properly get her out of her trashed clothes. She wonders what they did with those. She wonders how many shots Caitlyn has made in these new ones, how many she’s missed and anguished over, how much struggle Vi hasn’t seen.
She sucks, like she’s told, and closes her eyes as she does. It’s quiet enough in here that every squelch of her wet lips shatters the silence like a suddenly falling shelf.
Caitlyn trails Vi’s own spit back down her body the way she came, pinches a nipple once like she just wants to see it wet, and Vi’s body jolts when she finally goes lower. That heralding, slow, gentle drag below the belly, and the jerk it coaxes out of her is familiar, whether she’s about to have a great time or a lonely time. She’s got her money on great, this time around.
“Fuck, yes, Cait,” she pants as those lithe hands come to massage her inner thighs. The drag of the leather is utter bliss, the touch close enough to where she needs it that she finally feels like she’s getting off somewhat.
Cait’s slow pace is torture, but maybe that’s a beautiful thing. They don’t really do slow a lot. They’re always too eager to touch each other, to satisfy that ache like the moment will get snatched away from them. Vi likes a fast fuck, sure, but she also likes this- Cait, clearly having the time of her life, so in awe of Vi’s body that she needs half an evening to drink it all in.
Oh, it’ll be so fun to return the favour.
“Beautiful,” Caitlyn breathes, and she certainly means all of her, but she stares right at Vi’s wet curls as she says it. Vi swallows, watches her abs jump in anticipation with every circle Cait makes on her inner thighs.
Vi whines. Cait’s eyes snap up like it’s a starting horn, like it’s been what she’s waiting for all along. She gets this slightly deranged spark in her eye, this smarmy smirk across her face, and Vi’s chest squeezes with love and so much damn aggravation.
“Yes, Vi?” she asks, a perfect picture of innocence.
Vi nods. “Mhm.”
“Mm, what?”
A growl. “Cait.”
“This was your idea,” Caitlyn hums lowly, “Surely you can tell me what you’d like me to do.”
She sure could. But Vi had really, really hoped she could get out of saying it outright. “I think you know exactly what you want to do.”
“Not me,” Caitlyn squeezes her thigh gently, looks at her with a gaze that is full of all the heat in this room, sucked in with one slow, fluttery blink. “It’s all for you, darling.”
Vi scoffs- wheezes, more like. “And you’re getting nothing out of this?”
Caitlyn reddens. It always starts near her nose to wrap around her cheeks, ending at her ears in a trackable gradient. It’s a point for Vi in what has so far been a very unbalanced game.
“Don’t deflect,” Caitlyn deflects, squeezing her harder, the leather gloves pinching into the fat of her thighs, “I’m rather curious to hear what you wanted me to do with these.”
“Fuck,” Vi moans, spreads her legs a little wider, feels wetness rush down to collect with the rest. “Put them- Cait-!”
Finally compelled by the sight of Vi actually attempting to do as she’d asked, Caitlyn swipes her gloved thumb up Vi’s folds, presses it to Vi’s hard clit and rolls it once. Her slick makes the material glide, a perfect pressure to grind on if her entire lower body weren’t slack with sudden, pleasant relief.
“Inside,” Vi pleads, breathless, “Your trigger fingers, Cait. Please?”
It happens hard and fast. She blinks, and those perfect fingers have breached her, both at once. Predictably, they meet no resistance on their way in- the slick slap is so loud it might haunt Vi’s sleep for the next few days. But her mind is wiped blissfully blank when Cait moves without further pleading. And oh, does she move.
Cait is meticulous in every area of her life, certainly not excluding this one. Vi’s been the subject of many nights of thorough exploration, of Cait asking her where, how, what feels best and finding out how high-pitched she can make her scream. Her fingers know just where to hit, just when to curl for maximum impact, and she takes gleeful advantage of her obsession with Vi’s body.
Vi rocks with the pace, reaching to grasp Cait by the shoulders but being swiftly rebuffed, harshly shoved back down with her other gloved hand. It’s out of character, and it makes Vi groan like a starting machine. Her fully gloved hand stays to grip possessively at the base of her neck, nowhere near close enough to threaten her airways, but the implications are loud and clear.
“Alright?” Cait asks so sweetly as her fingers pound into her, and Vi whimpers something she hopes comes across as enthusiastic assent.
The leather drags against her folds every time she takes Cait to the hilt, little sparks of heaven bursting behind her eyes. It becomes increasingly apparent how dashed her dreams of lasting a reasonable amount of time are- every stroke takes her further, every carve higher and higher. All the while, Cait murmurs, Cait giggles, Cait fixes that burning eye of hers on her panting mouth and jumping neck like she wants to bite them both.
“Mhm, yeah, fuck yes,” Vi whines, and cries, Cait is so far away, she needs to kiss her but she’s so far away. “Baby, please-”
The words are snatched right out of her. Her limbs lock, and she cranes her head back in preparation of the orgasm building in her stomach, waits for the inevitable drop- and gasps as it roils, shakes, and shrinks back into a still, static dot.
Nothing happens.
Vi breathes, and waits, twitches her hips- before she drags her head up to find out what’s going on. She’s treated to the sight of Cait, sweaty, panting, dishevelled, her beautiful hand pressed up right against her, entirely unmoving.
“Uh,” Vi licks her lips, tastes her own sweat and desperation. What gives? She’s too afraid to ask, like she’s somehow done something wrong, as if she’s somehow let an inevitable orgasm slip between her fingers like a sudsy bar of soap.
Caitlyn just looks at her with all the stolen love in this universe. And then, quiet, voice utterly molten:
“How many more times?”
And suddenly, the fog clears. Caitlyn’s unexpectedly quick pace, an acquiescence that came much too easily, and an apparent swift ending after all that teasing.
All the air in Vi’s lungs leaves her in a choked gasp. The blood that’s come back up to her head to allow her to think now drops right back down where it had been. She clenches tight around Caitlyn’s fingers and- the woman fucking smiles.
“A number, Vi,” she reminds her oh so helpfully. Vi could not count to save her life right now.
“Um,” Vi thinks it’s useless to pretend she doesn’t know what Cait means, but thinks, why the hell not. “What?”
“It wouldn’t be fair to get this over with so quickly, hm?” Cait cocks her head- fuck, that’s a nasty trick- “You wanted it enough to ask, after all.”
“What if I say just one?”
Caitlyn raises a devastating eyebrow. She’s pulling out all the stops. “Is that really the best you can do?”
A bullseye, right to the red center of Vi’s pride. Caitlyn would back off if she sensed any real apprehension in Vi’s tone. But there’s none to find. Vi thinks it would be rude to deny the lady what she wants- Vi thinks it would be pathetic to act like she’s not drooling for it.
“Two,” she decides, and it’s the honest truth. Caitlyn’s entire countenance shakes like a juiced-up, exposed engine.
“Excellent,” she breathes, sounding very proud, and that still does something to Vi.
She resumes at a much slower speed, knowing too much too fast would launch Vi right over the edge like a little mechanical locomotive. This languidly, every inch of her fingers is felt, every third section its own torture- that’s not even mentioning the hint of leathery edge, the grind of her clothed palm that Caitlyn so clearly wants to sink up and into the length of her, but refrains from doing so.
Vi’s breath evens out, her orgasm well out of sight, a sign Caitlyn had apparently been watching for- she takes the opportunity to catch Vi off guard, and starts taking her properly.
Cait’s fingers dance inside her as if on the receiver of her prized rifle, but she typically doesn’t smile until after she pulls the trigger. Here, all the fun is in lining up her shot- hiking Vi higher and higher, watching her as if through a scope, fingers stopping with every whine they pull out of her and starting again when she sees fit.
Her glove is sloshy and soaked, palm like a bowl for the excess of Vi’s pleasure. She’s grinning, Vi isn’t sure she even knows it, nose wrinkled with utter delight. Only her truest smiles turn her face into this- kiddy, elated, scrunchy and fucking adorable. Her fingers are not adorable. Her fingers have Vi tearing at the bedsheet, thrashing like a beast with its tail pinned, hips thrusting up to meet Cait’s palm like she’s even allowed to get herself all the way there.
“Oh, fuck,” Vi gasps, doesn’t realise she’s essentially warning Cait to stop until she’s grunting, heaving, abs panging like after a good workout, empty of any friction at all. She’s practically doing sit-ups with how much she convulses, and Cait’s hand at her collarbone turns soft.
“Good girl,” it’s somehow full of awe, like Caitlyn can’t believe the creature beneath her is allowing her to do this. She’s fond, thankful to be given this opportunity- like Vi, never taking more than she needs, especially not from her. Vi wants them both spitty with greed.
Her fingers have stilled once more. She’s gonna end up pruny with how long they’ve been submerged in Vi’s pulsing desperation. The satisfaction in Cait’s eyes has softened to a characteristic care. She is gentle with Vi’s limits, as if Vi isn’t squirming for more of this.
She could compare the loss of every orgasm to watching a balloon float off into the sky. Vi’s fucked herself pathetic and lonely before, courtesy of six months of longing and guilt coalescing like two unpleasant, sticky liquids in the same unfortunate bottle. This isn’t failure- this is a wicked hand snatching her precious balloon from her and snipping the string while she watches, helpless. This is Caitlyn Kiramman and her talented, perfectly controlled fingers taking her for a torturous spin.
It ebbs away from her almost painfully, slips out from between her legs. A single twitch of Cait’s fingers would plunge her into that stolen climax, so explosive there may only be scraps of Vi left when it’s over. Cait’s fingers will twitch on a desk when she’s nervous- they do not twitch on or inside anything she knows how to wield.
“Okay?” Caitlyn asks, quiet, petting the valley between her tits with the hard leather of her full glove. She’s got Vi purring like a feline, which is only mildly embarrassing.
“Your fingers are fucking crazy,” Vi can barely move her mouth to make the words, rolls them limply around her tongue with all the strength she cares to devote to speaking. “Yes. Again.”
Cait nods. “One more?”
Vi swallows. Considers, briefly, what she’s about to do to herself. Finds that, yes, she wants it. “Two.”
Cait’s eye blows wide. Without the eyepatch, she would’ve gotten a glimpse of grey from behind her limp eyelid. “You said-”
“I’m good,” Vi sees the situation calls for sincerity, gives it to her with a soft breath and a signature chuckle. “Not ready for you to leave yet.”
She raises her hips a bit to make the joke land, but jostles Caitlyn’s fingers in a way that nudges her right up into the spot that has Vi shuddering with her entire body.
Cait is quite adept at breaking the rules for what she wants. With Vi, she’s so… shy, a constantly stopping carriage twitching through traffic. Vi’s permission, over and over and over, is the only one she’ll ever freeze to ask for- something very enthusiastically given. And once it is, all the soft lines of her face curve like steel made malleable by persistent heat.
“Trying to impress me?” she giggles, and Vi’s mouth goes dry and then ruinously wet, “Very good. Two more.”
She crowds close this time, abandons her attention to Vi’s collarbone to brace her other hand on the headboard instead. Her hips twitch with every thrust of her fingers like she’s putting the power of her body into it, fuck, like it’s going right to her lower pulse. She is unbelievably deep, like this- Caitlyn doesn’t do shallow and quick. She is desperate to touch Vi’s deepest parts, again and again.
Fuck, her fingers are so long, she’s probably the first to ever touch her right there.
“Cait, Cait-” Vi pants, tilts her head back and plants her heels hard into the mattress like she’ll float- no, fling herself up into the ceiling.
“Violet,” Caitlyn whines, and it’s so sickeningly satisfying that this is ruining her just as much, “Sweet girl. You’re perfect. Feel so good, my god-”
That’s hot syrup, right down Vi’s spine. The praise curls inside her like those wicked fingers, cuddles up against her aching spot. She grunts, breath coming in short bursts of excruciating concentration, terrified of ruining this. “No, if you talk like that, ‘m gonna come-”
Cait laughs. It’s devoid of the smarminess she’d expected. It’s that little awed giggle she got out of her just for fumbling with her stupid Piltie pants, that evening she had her for the first time. It has Vi tearing up like the sentimental softie Cait teases she is, and the pleasure ball rolling up her cunt has those tears streaming down her face. But she’s smiling too wide for it to be sorrow, showing too few teeth for it to be pain. It’s not the first time she’s cried during sex and it won’t be the last.
Restraint, desire, need like a live animal living in her chest ensure the tears keep coming. Caitlyn’s fingers go still, and Vi gives a hitched, aborted sob as Caitlyn kisses the salt tracks off her face with her soft mouth.
She’s built up again much quicker, with little ceremony- Cait jostles her fingers once, twice, and Vi gives a loud warning cry. It’s torment, but it’s somehow a deep satisfaction, too, and very good for her reputation of having no self-control. Her thighs shake uncontrollably, she is slick with sweat down to her bones, and her hair is limp with exhaustion. She looks and feels like she’s a sucked-dry orange slice.
That was the last one. Despite her sick urge to ask for another, she knows she won’t resist it, and it would be terrible to disappoint Cait. Her girlfriend doesn’t have to be told, though. She reads Vi like one of her favourite books.
“This is it,” Cait promises. Vi nods. The smile she gets is waxy, wobbly. “I’ll take you right there. Move with me.”
Somehow, Vi’s body stutters into motion. The pleasure is not quick to come, like it’s cried wolf too many times, wary about opening up, bracing for more deception. Her hips meet each of Caitlyn’s delicate thrusts- the woman is almost hilariously careful, Vi is so wet it should be like slipping on a spill, all harsh forward momentum, but each inch of her fingers is under her terrifying control. Vi hums, throat too scratchy to shout but she has a feeling it’s gonna happen anyway.
When Cait starts fucking her in earnest again, Vi’s body begins to light up once more, like it knows this is finally it. She finally has that angled palm to grind on, does so with so much relief, and Caitlyn leans close to giggle and kiss into her ear, behind, below, all over. More hot praise trickles down between the lines of her tattoo. Cait’s breath leaves wet spots behind, her teeth scratching little scrapes into her skin with her directionless, open mouth.
She’s bound to be oversensitive beyond belief. She’s bound to ruin their bedsheets to a degree a washbin could not make disappear. Limply, she turns her head to graze her lips over Caitlyn’s cheek. Predictably observant and endlessly gracious, Cait turns to catch her lips with hers, which makes all her loud, unstoppable moans slightly less loud, but certainly not any less embarrassing nor unstoppable.
“Cait…”
Her girl nips at her top lip, savours the scar there she always seems to adore. This close, her whole face isn’t visible, but it’s hard to mistake such a pounding, wounding love as anything else when it’s Caitlyn Kiramman’s eye she sees it in.
“Are you close?” Cait asks, genuine.
Vi giggles, which she is typically not prone to doing, but she isn’t really in control of herself when it bubbles out of her. “Have been. Fuck-”
A sinful curl of Cait’s fingers drags the soul right up and out of her. When it drops back down, her stomach tightens, and anticipation boils across her skin. Yes. This one is hers, hers to have, and Cait won’t hold it hostage from her. This one’s gonna be good.
Caitlyn knows it. She’s smiling like she can’t wait, like she’s gonna feel it right there alongside Vi. “Come on, Violet. Take it.”
Vi growls, meets that burning blue eye and musters up all her defiance to say, grinning: “Give it to me.”
She is pinned to the bed by that returning gloved hand, poked and played with and carved into with an alarming messiness. Poise has been abandoned at the foot of their bed- Caitlyn seeks to unmake her through force over skill, take her apart not like a carefully deconstructed gadget, rather, like throwing said gadget at a brick wall. Vi certainly feels fucking thrown around.
“Fucking god, Cait-! Shit!”
“That’s it. That’s it, sweet girl.”
Vi’s hands fly off the mattress to clutch at Cait’s shoulders the way she hasn’t allowed herself to all this time, and Cait doesn’t rebuff her, only hears her silent request and leans closer, close enough that they are cheek to cheek as their bodies roll into each other. Cait smells like work. Fresh ink on endless expense reports and the shitty leaves of breakroom tea and raw Piltovan opulence. All uniquely her, all an exquisite drug, and Vi is surrounded, drowning, living in it.
She’s not sure what starts the descent. Cait’s smell, being in her arms, the fact that she’s been toyed with for nearly an hour and her body’s just decided, hey, fuck it- but it starts. Slow, much slower than any other, a rolling snowball of pleasure on its way down a steepening hill. Her body goes tight, and Cait grins into her shoulder, can probably feel it happening where every part of their bodies touch.
“You’ve been so good,” Cait murmurs, and she pulls back far- oh, she wants to watch. “Now. Come for me.”
It rips through her. Vi cries out, would reach for Cait but finds her hands must tear at the bedsheets if she wants to survive this. Her hips shoot up and her torso angles back, head craned to expose the sweaty trunk of her neck and all the little lovemarks Cait has left her. Her body cries out in the ecstasy of fucking finally and doesn’t want to stop- her orgasm goes from limb to limb and sharpens pointier and pointier with every coaxing stroke of Cait’s fingers.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck-”
She’s out of her body for a bit. Leaves it an empty host for this endless pleasance. It doesn’t ebb away like her orgasms typically do- no, it feels like a permanent part of her now, that with every step she takes she’s gonna pang in remembrance of the time Caitlyn made her come so hard she departed the physical plane.
When she’s some decent amount of conscious again, she gets a good look at Caitlyn- flushed, wild, grinning rapturously. Her eye trembles, her fingers dig into Vi’s collarbone self-soothingly, and Vi can practically smell how torturously aroused she is. Good. Vi grins. Great.
“That good enough for you?” Vi heaves, smacks her lips together, coaxes a bit of spit back into her mouth so she doesn’t shrivel up. Fuck, she can’t move. She’s gonna ravish Caitlyn’s pussy ‘til she cries but she can’t move.
“Vi,” Cait whines, sounding utterly destroyed and, hopefully soon, looking it too.
“I know,” Vi soothes, beckons her closer, playing false casual like she isn’t dying for what happens next, “C’mere. Your turn.”
Caitlyn chooses this moment to pull out. All the moisture that isn’t in Vi’s mouth follows Cait’s fingers instead, sticky down to her wrist. Probably couldn’t get traction on a trigger like this, but Cait would find a way. When her fingers separate, they make shiny webs of slick between them, and Vi blushes down to her toes.
“Hah,” Vi snickers and sweats like a dog, “Look what you did to me. Don’t think you’re any better right now, though.”
She lies back, makes herself enticing, wills Cait to park herself on her lap and let Vi return the favour. Instead, Cait looks at her, then her own fingers, and- and pulls her fly down in a motion so sharp and quick that Vi missed half of it when she blinked.
Her panties are white, utilitarian, and even what little is exposed between her open trousers is soaked through. Vi sucks in a breath and exhales it in a whine, fingers fucking twitching to feel it.
“Cait?” she pleads.
Caitlyn meets her eyes. Hers has gone wide and slightly vulnerable, uncertain, and then, all at once- confident. Devastating. Like Vi’s in big, big trouble.
“Watch.” That is all she says before she shoves her own slick fingers down right where she’s most desperate for them- into her own, ruined underwear.
Every inch of Vi’s body jerks like she’s been shot.
“Cait, w-wait,” Vi laughs, her first line of defence against the gnashing desperation that has seized her, “I can help. Let me help?”
She’s begging for it. Doesn’t care that she’s been reduced to this. Caitlyn has her under her merciless watch, hips twitching over her own hand- she is panting, sweating, and completely unshakeable.
“No,” Caitlyn repeats. “Watch.” And she fucks herself with her own tired fingers.
Vi is certain it has been a long time since she’s felt this useless. Laid back as if on a lounge chair to watch the woman who’s spent the last hour servicing her have to take care of herself- oh, she’s dropped a few layers into hell, she’s sure of it.
Cait’s fingers move behind the almost see-through fabric of her panties. Vi’s wetness is all over her sensitive pulse and Vi would rejoice if it were any part of her fucking body putting it there. But no. Caitlyn is too far for her thighs or waist to be within reach, and Vi is too limp to move any closer. Cait meets the palm of her hand with jumps of her hips, riding herself, and Vi could be helping her, should be helping her, and she’s not.
Caitlyn growls and shoves her pants down further, and her legs are awkwardly forced together where her pants frame her thighs but her panties come down, too, and suddenly her curls are visible. Cait’s jostling knocks the garments down further on every bounce and Vi is- primal. She is reduced to a slavering thing who wants her hands on the thing she wants.
Vi watches Caitlyn finger herself with her own two naked trigger fingers and it’s as glorious as it is absolute torture. Part of this is gratifying- now Caitlyn gets to feel it too, what she’s done to Vi, what the edge of her own leather feels like on her folds. The other part makes her want to kick and squeal and whine- not fair, not fair!
“Baby,” Vi whines, and she knows it's useless to try any more begging, so all she’s got left to do is wail and wish it was her making Cait’s face twist. Vi’s met her quota of enjoyment for the evening- that she feels her clit throb watching Cait’s trigger fingers disappear inside her over and over again is an injustice. Where does her greed end? “Y’look so good. So good.”
She does. Oh, she does. Her uniform is absurd, the width of her shoulders in that blouse, the sway of her sleek ponytail, the way her eyepatch comes slightly loose like the finishing touches of a debauched candid snapshot. Vi’s fucked her with most of her clothes on before and it’s looked just this good every time. That damn wrist gap-
“I’m-” Cait gasps, shuffles to get better traction with her palm, and that her little huffs have turned to tiny whines means she’s close. Vi is desperate to help her get there.
“M' pretty girl,” she croons, finding her smile as Cait braces herself on the headboard once again. She’s glorious from where Vi lies, radiant framed against the lavender canopy. “Did so good. C’mon. Let yourself go.”
A ragged twitch. There.
Caitlyn doesn’t tend to come quite as explosively as Vi- she grunts, locks up, and collapses unceremoniously onto Vi, who cannot resist wrapping her arms around those tired shoulders and finally, finally holding her close. Her blouse is sticky with sweaty exertion and her high ponytail has slid down the back of her head to become a loose, low ponytail. Cait’s breath comes quick and happy, nestled into Vi’s neck, her face a furnace, her lips wet.
They’re both panting like they’ve run a marathon. Vi is still panging where Cait slots up right against her- when she pulls out of herself, it rocks their hips together, and Vi barely bites back a moan. It’d be embarrassing to admit that she could go again after Cait put in all that work to undo her, so she quietly kisses that sharp jaw instead, waits for the comedown to make way for coherent speech.
Cait giggles into her neck. She’s always pleasantly loose in the aftermath, the intensity shaved off of her to make her sweet and loopy. Vi’s not any better- the mere sound of that melodic titter gets her going, too.
“Damn,” she laughs, toying with the loosened strings of Cait’s eyepatch. It half hangs off limply when Cait pulls back to look at her, gloved hands splayed over Vi’s collarbone, body slotted perfectly against Vi’s.
She’s beaming, showing off her perfect tooth gap, cheeks bright pink in the afterglow. “Well put.”
Now that she can, Vi kisses her. Slow and unmoving, just the force of her lips against Cait’s, and a soft separation that soothes them both.
Cait only grins wider. Vi likes her this smug. “That to your liking, then?”
She’s proud, but typically only a showoff of what she knows she’s incredible at. There’s certainly no room for doubt, and no place for Vi to hide her rapidly warming face. If the memory of this will always make her this red, she’s well and truly fucked.
“It was,” Vi swallows, knows there’s no point in averting her eyes.
Cait raises a cocky eyebrow. “Was?”
Vi bites her lip. She mutters simply: “Wanted to touch you.”
Her girlfriend’s eyebrows pinch sympathetically, but only because she’d clearly wanted that, too. Besides that, she’s proud, satisfied to have made Vi into such a pleading mess, one that begs for the chance to get her off.
Cait shrugs, as best she can in this position. “I thought I’d make the most of these,” she lifts her trigger fingers to her mouth- oh, still wet with the both of them- and quickly sheathes them in her sucking mouth.
Vi’s lower stomach rolls. The pop of release Cait’s lips produce around her fingers makes her groan. Her gloves are tacky, clogged- visibly thick with all the evening’s activities. “You’re never gonna wash those enough.”
“They’re plenty fine,” Cait’s smirk grows wider, and her eye gleams with a sudden poised wickedness, “I’ll get to take you with me to the range.”
The implication drops onto Vi’s chest like a boulder, or perhaps twelve more boulders. She’s left stammering, stuttering, scouring her brain for the first witty comeback she can produce on such short, panicked notice. There is nothing. Her shelf of comebacks has had time to collect dust because so often does Caitlyn Kiramman leave her completely stunlocked.
“That’s not-” she splutters, “You’re- weird.”
“And you’re covered in fluids,” Caitlyn so helpfully reminds her, and yeah, if Vi wracks her brain she thinks she does remember how that could’ve happened. Sweat and spit and come. Fuck, she’s a mess. And she’d showered just before this!
“You could help me not be,” Vi grunts, and somehow she’d not intended it to land quite as suggestively as it did but, well, it lands. Cait’s eye goes lidded, and it’s a helpful reminder that one of them was teased and fucked to listless satisfaction and the other came fast and unceremoniously on her own hand.
Needless to say, Vi takes Caitlyn by the wrist gap and marches her fully clothed girlfriend right into their bathroom, suddenly full of energy, not so suddenly ravenous. It’s not what Cait expected at all but she giggles the whole way there, yelps when her bare back collides with the cold shower wall, and from then on, can’t do anything but gasp and whine.
This shower is paradise- golden and steamy and way bigger than it should be. Her hair will soon be clogged with fruity shampoos and she’ll swaddle in silky towels right after. It’s so much. She’s still taking more- taking Cait. Vi doesn’t often take more than what she needs, but- where’s the harm in a little greed, sometimes?