Work Text:
Cherry doesn’t think too hard about it when she leaves Daniel’s bedroom door open.
No one’s home, obviously. She’s just whiling away the time on her day off, Daniel puttering around doing whatever he does during the day, his parents hard at work. And she’d rather be here than at home being nagged by her mum, so—here she is. Popped by in the morning early enough for Daniel to let her in. And sure, his parents have a tendency to appear unplanned, probably a side effect of the kind of high-end jobs that you’re allowed to leave whenever you want, or that give you an unexpected afternoon off in the middle of the week. But she’s gotten a bit cocky lately.
Or maybe she’s banking on someone coming home early.
It’s hard to say. She’s never been much of one for interrogating her own motivations.
She is one for orgasms, though, and she digs a small, discreet vibrator out of her purse before lying back on the bed and undoing her trousers.
She closes her eyes and starts imagining. For some reason the target of her imaginings lately has been Hannah Waddingham, perhaps in part due to her mother’s incessant playing of Ted Lasso on the television. She’s never been too into women, but she’s never exactly not been, either. It’s just that women are…tricky. Someone always has something to say. And especially in the world that she wants to move in, Daniel and his parents’ world, certain things are—not forbidden, surely, for that would imply a gauche kind of regressive moralism, but certainly scrutinized. And men are easy, so Cherry sticks to men. But she lets her mind go where it pleases, and lately her mind has been going to the lovely actress with the American TV show, the blonde with a thousand-watt smile. She imagines it: Hannah pressing kisses to her torso, her breasts, her thighs. Hannah touching her, murmuring sweet things in her ears, hand between her legs.
Cherry presses the “on” button for the vibrator and presses it against one of her nipples. Even through her shirt and bra, the sensation sends heat shooting through her. She trembles for an instant before steadying herself. (Blonde hair, a certain confidence—insistence, even.)
She squeezes her other breast, moaning softly into the air as her fingers pinch the nipple through fabric. She’s wet; she can feel it in her underwear, against her skin. She’s easy these days—easy to turn on, easy to get off. It would almost be embarrassing if it weren’t so much fun.
She’s holding the vibrator against her underwear when she hears something by the door. Not a loud noise, or a startling one, just a kind of faint rustling. She turns her head, and there she sees Laura, her boyfriend’s mother, standing at the door with her eyes wide—almost like she’s the one who’s been caught.
Cherry is practically used to being caught by Laura now, and she’s never made much of it—it’s an occupational hazard when your boyfriend lives with his parents, and will be rectified soon enough with the new penthouse. But normally Laura startles, jumps, and hurries away. (Normally Daniel is there.) But right now it’s just Cherry and Laura, Cherry with the vibrator against her clit and Laura standing frozen in the doorway, and Laura doesn’t run away.
Cherry freezes too, but freezing for her means holding the vibrator where it is, which in turn means that she can’t hold back the soft breathy sounds that come out of her in response.
Then Laura does something that Cherry doesn’t expect. And maybe she should—she knows that Laura has been with women, that Laura is unpredictable. So maybe she shouldn’t be surprised. But her eyes go wide when, instead of hurrying away, Laura steps inside the room and closes the door behind her with a click.
Belatedly, Cherry presses the button on the vibrator again, turning it off. Her body settles; she makes eye contact with Laura.
“Don’t do that,” says Laura.
Cherry stares at her. “What?”
Laura’s gaze is level. “Turn it back on.”
Cherry swallows. Some part of her wants to resist, to fight. Another part feels somehow…obedient. Compliant. She doesn’t have to listen. But something in her wants to.
She presses the button again and the vibrator springs back to life, buzzing away.
She tries not to react, and she fails.
Laura looks almost amused at Cherry’s struggle to keep quiet, to keep her body still.
“Little slut,” she murmurs, though she doesn’t seem angry, exactly.
Cherry’s body ripples with pleasure, the vibrations from the toy combining with the hard line of Laura’s gaze to create a sensation that she’s never felt before. And she feels the kind of humiliation she’s never really associated with sex, never had much reason to—it’s never been shameful for her, never been wrong. But this—her boyfriend’s mother and her steely gaze, the vibrator through her underwear, the lace being quickly saturated with her own arousal—this is something new. There’s a sick feeling in her stomach as her hips tremble, and it somehow heightens the feelings of pleasure, makes her even more wet.
“Stop,” Laura says suddenly, as Cherry’s hips are starting to buck upwards.
Cherry does. She presses the button again and even lifts the vibrator up a bit, removing the contact altogether.
She couldn’t say, exactly, why she complies. But the tone of Laura’s voice, the imperious stance…it only seems right that she obeys.
Her hips cant up, pathetically. Laura’s eyes rake down her body in a way that makes Cherry feel exposed in a way she rarely is, much more exposed than her mostly-dressed state would imply.
“Go again,” says Laura.
Cherry gratefully returns the vibrator to her underwear and turns it on, letting pleasure ripple through her as she does. Her panting grows to moaning, and even as her eyes flutter closed, she can still feel Laura watching.
She almost expects Laura to stop her again as she feels her orgasm building and her noises get more pathetic, more urgent, but Laura doesn’t say anything as Cherry tips over the edge, coming on a cry that feels too loud even though nobody else is home.
Cherry turns the vibrator off and drops her arm against the mattress, gasping in relief as the last of the climax shudders through her. She feels boneless, exhausted, the orgasm more intense than anything she had planned.
“No,” says Laura’s voice, and for a moment Cherry can’t parse what she’s saying. No what, exactly? “Keep going,” she says then, and Cherry—still breathless—opens her eyes again to look at Laura in confusion.
Laura raises her eyebrows, sharp and dangerous.
“What did I say?”
Hurriedly Cherry brings the hand holding the vibrator back to her underwear and turns it on again, hips jerking immediately as it touches her. She’s sensitive, but not horribly so, and it’s a matter of minutes before she’s coming again, whimpering through it this time but still reveling in the waves of pleasure that run through her.
Then, before she can even begin to move her hand away, Laura says, “Don’t stop.”
Cherry’s eyes snap to Laura’s face. She looks serious, intense.
So Cherry doesn’t stop. Her hips keep jumping up erratically, and the feeling starts to bleed from pure pleasure into some discomfort, the sensitivity becoming too much. She endures it for several long moments, making soft urgent sounds in the back of her throat, before she starts to ask, “Can I—?”
“Don’t stop,” Laura says, more firmly this time.
Cherry’s underwear are soaked, she thinks, and she can feel it on her thighs, too; it’s even dampening the crotch of her trousers. She starts to whimper again as her body ratchets up. “Please, please can I—”
Laura laughs, a derisive little sound. “You were so desperate to get off in my house,” she hisses, “and now you don’t want it anymore?”
“I just—” Cherry starts to protest.
Laura cuts her off. “I’ll tell you when you can stop,” she says.
Cherry whines, a long desperate sound. It’s starting to hurt, the pressure of the vibrator on her clit. Her nipples are hard against her bra now and she’s just grateful Laura can’t see them. Her traitorous body starts to react more strongly, and the sounds that come from her mouth are becoming something she doesn’t recognize—like a porn star, or maybe an animal in pain. She begins to tremble uncontrollably, the awful pleasure echoing through her body in waves until she’s wailing through another orgasm, pleasure mingling with the terrible intensity of the vibrator on her swollen clit.
“There you go,” says Laura, almost gentle, and for a moment Cherry almost feels a sense of relief before Laura adds, “Don’t stop, now.”
Cherry lets out a desperate little sound, something raw and animal, but she doesn’t stop. Her face distorts as she weathers the pain of it, tries to find an angle that’s more tolerable and only succeeds in making it worse, the sensation only bringing her closer to the next, dreaded orgasm.
“Isn’t this what you wanted?” Laura murmurs. “When you lay down in his bed?”
Cherry shudders as another climax rips through her. Her whole body feels weak, impossibly limp, and still the vibrations echo through her. “I’m sorry,” she starts to babble, and she’s not sure what she’s even sorry for. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
“Don’t stop,” Laura murmurs again, her voice almost eerily pleasant.
Tears spark in Cherry’s eyes as she holds the vibrator against herself. The pleasure of it now is secondary, if it’s even there at all, and she’s whining as she does it, eyes wide and almost panicked as she stares at Laura—by contrast mild and composed. “Please,” she whispers again, “please, please…”
Laura doesn’t say anything, but her steady gaze is enough.
The next orgasm feels like a sob, Cherry’s body contorting in a kind of misery as it suffers through the climax.
Laura watches her as she unfailingly holds the vibrator against herself, even as tears escape and stream down her cheeks. Her body is convulsing in the aftermath, desperate and ruined, when Laura finally says, “You can stop.”
Gratefully Cherry turns off the vibrator and sags against the bed, somehow more tired than she’s ever been.
Laura surveys her again, eyes dragging down her body from head to toe—dressed yet utterly disheveled, sweat beading her brow. She feels undone, unmade, found out somehow.
Laura looks at her, a hint of a smile tugging at her mouth. “Daniel will be home soon,” she says, eyebrows darting up. “I hope you don’t mind going again.”
And she walks out, Cherry trembling in her wake.