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It was a mistake. A little mistake, was all. A rare physiological reaction she wasn’t able to control or stretch out or practice into submission. It took her by surprise, that was the reason.
Camilla Hect had trained her body since her hands could grasp a rapier. She knew every muscle in her five feet eight inches. How she’d react to different exercise, different foods, different atmospheric conditions, all different kinds of wounds. The type of cataloguing the Warden knew on an intellectual, thalalogical level she knew on a cellular one. Something she could feel and punch.
She was surprised by Pyrrha Dve, that was all. Camilla was about as tall as it got on the eighth, that was all. She’d never seen anyone nearly a head taller than herself, so much broader. She was the broadest person she’d known, until she met Gideon Nav and Naberius Tern and the other Cavs, and she was still strong among them. Pyrrha was something else.
It just surprised her, when she reached for a new canister of powdered eggs in their kitchenette and found Pyrrha right beside her, towering over her, really, easily grasping and handing her the canister in a single, massive hand. A hand the size of her own face. It surprised her when they stretched together in the mornings with Nona, teaching her, and she saw the broad expanse of Pyrrha’s body, her deeply tan skin, the veins roping through her forearms, the thickness of her thighs, her calves. Her shoulders.
It was her fighter’s instinct that had flared up, that hair on the back of her neck, that sense of alertness, identifying a potential threat.
It was easily dismissed, until it wasn’t.
Until she found her breath short and her core tingling, alert. Until she found Pyrrha smirking at her, knowingly, a smirk she’d usually wipe off with her fist. Until one day on the street when they saw two new Blood of Eden recruits looking for trouble and Pyrrha had simply lifted her up and tucked her away in an alley.
She found herself blushing, her core pulsing, out of words. And should’ve known Pyrrha would always find some.
“You know, I could take care of that for you, baby,” she drawled, and where Cam would usually have wanted to assess, attack, she found every muscle she knew in her body...wanting.
It was just one orgasm. Until it wasn’t.
She stripped off her belt and pants quickly, clinically, and found Pyrrha’s hands wrapping around her thighs, spreading them like she was unwrapping a fresh pack of cigarettes. Assessing the crease of her body the way Camilla assessed a fight. Camilla felt herself leak at the sensation, saw Pyrrha look up at her when she saw.
“Oh, baby. You’re going to be so sweet.”
Pyrrha ate her like she was a feast. She licked and sucked and made little pleased noises and moans that Cam wanted to find ridiculous but found herself gasping about instead.
Cam asked her to be fast, and she was, had Cam gasping in white bliss faster and surer than she'd ever experienced. But she didn’t let Cam go. Pyrrha drew her hands up, slowly, toying her fingers over Cam, teasing over her holes, and Cam let out a very undignified whimper.
Pyrrha chuckled, then pressed inside her with one thick finger. Cam gasped, then gasped and gasped and gasped as Pyrrha wrung her out, sucking hard as she toyed with her again and again until she was barely aware of what was happening as Pyrrha tucked her into bed and gave her a peck on the forehead with a-- “See you later, darling.” And then she heard the alarm go.
When she returned to her body, it haunted her. Had he been able to tell what had happened? She searched through their notebook for any comment, any intimation, but there was nothing. She stared at Pyrrha over dinner with Nona, wondering what she knew, what Palamedes had told her. What she had told him. But she sensed… or was it just that she hoped?… Pyrrha had said nothing.
It was just one orgasm, until it wasn’t.
It was just one time. Until it wasn’t.
Cam woke up every day and went through her rapier forms and showered and dressed and recorded Nona’s dreams and got her up and stretched and dressed and fed and to school. She went out to work, through the horrible streets, past the horrible creature looming ever closer.
And in the afternoons, before she or Pyrrha picked Nona up from school, she’d come home. For lunch, she told herself, though she rarely fit that in. For Pyrrha. For her broad hands almost encircling her waist. For the new way she’d make Cam mewl and shake and cry with pleasure. And then, for the feel of her against her, the way she knew she excited Pyrrha, the way if she whined and begged a little, she could feel her cock twitch in her trousers, against her thighs. She took to wiggling around just to feel it against her ass. Pyrrha wouldn’t let her see it. Wouldn't let her touch it, really touch it. Part of Cam wondered if it was Pyrrha protecting the privacy of a very old friend— but she wanted. So she wiggled, and she pressed, until she could see the flush in Pyrrha's face, the tight way she'd hold her smirk when she was so very aroused.
“You know I can’t deny my treasures anything. But you have to ask, Cam…” Pyrrha told her, buttoning up her coveralls on her way out the door, like the bastard she was.
It didn’t take very long.
Not long before she was whispering, then asking, then moaning please please please Pyrrha please, I need it, I need you, need more, want to feel you--
Pyrrha told her she’d never seen anything so beautiful as Cam's face the first time she pushed all the way in. The stretch was insane, the heat, the girth, and she was already so loose and wet with pleasure. Pyrrha took her time, but Cam could see the strain on her face, and she liked it. This was a game she could play, a dance for two. She relished the deep groans Pyrrha let out as Cam rolled her hips, begging, asking for more. The way Pyrrha retaliated by toying with her nipple, her clit, until they were both gasping, each desperate to hold out longer, to see the other crack first.
Until they heard the timer.
“Don’t come in me, here—“ Cam said, pulling off and sinking Pyrrha’s twitching cock between her lips, Pyrrha’s curse in her ears and cum on her tongue and down her throat. It was all she could do to swallow and rush into the bathroom before Palamedes took over.
She couldn’t tell him. And she couldn’t stop.
What had started as a quick release for her, then for Pyrrha, became… became something defined by the timer. She found herself wishing for a whole morning, or a day spent lazing together, a pile of limbs and hands and tongues. To see what she could do with Pyrrha’s body. But she wanted Palamedes, too. She wanted his words, his mind, for him to have his time through her eyes.
So Cam rushed home for lunch and stripped out of her clothes almost the second she was through the door, bending over the counter for Pyrrha, begging her, begging her like she never thought she would beg anyone for anything, and always found Pyrrha desperate behind her, like she’d been waiting for this all day. Some days she fucked Cam hard and fast, pounding into her and pulling her hair as Cam played with herself, saying please please please please please please—
Some days Cam sat on the counter and wrapped her legs around Pyrrha, bit her neck and ran a fingernail over her flat nipples to relish the gasps in her ear that turned into guttural sounds as Pyrrha thrust into her, her tools and coveralls puddled around her ankles in her haste for this.
Some days— the days that made Pyrrha obviously uncomfortable, so days Cam liked— Cam dropped to her knees with her tongue out and asked for Pyrrha’s cock in her mouth, relishing the juicy sweat salt taste filling her, tears pricking at her eyes as thrusts hit the back of her throat, and rubbed herself off, moaning, on Pyrrha’s boot.
And every once in a while, Pyrrha denied her the choice, picked Cam up and pressed her against the wall, Cam’s legs dangling over her broad shoulders and back, and took her lunch as she pleased, sucking at Cam until she was a babbling mess.
Every time, racing against the clock, against Palamedes finding out for certain. He wrote just once about it— that he noticed Camilla’s body felt more relaxed when he returned to it. That her hips had gotten looser, more flexible. Cam burned with shame when she read him applaud whatever new exercise she’d been doing and itched to touch herself about it.
She told Pyrrha the next day while she bounced on her cock, and watched Pyrrha lean back, tucking her arms behind her head, and praise her for doing her exercises like a good slut. Cam came almost immediately. And, as usual, Pyrrha didn’t let her stop there.
It did feel like sneaking around, between hiding it from both Nona and Palamedes. A secret affair. It was wrong. It was perfect. It let Camilla slip into a different part of herself— needy and hungry and insolent, who loved lying back and being made to take it. She didn’t have to be so capable— she could watch Pyrrha do that.
And when Cam wanted to, she could make her crack.
It was dangerous. She wanted more.