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“Good job surviving, baby doe,” Cassie's words drip like hot wax on her skin, Victoria turns her head, brown eyes alight with thousands of tiny fires. “Six whole months at PTMC. No complaints filed, no sick days,” she pauses, and puts one of her thick arms around Victoria's upper back, “no messy love affair.”
“Ha!” Victoria chortles, and snorts, awkwardly. Cassie, endeared, tightens their hug.
“I'm gonna miss you,” she states, bottom lip plump and pouting. Inviting, too, Victoria thinks.
“You don't- you don't have to,” she shrugs her shoulders in a meagre trial of nonchalance, as they walk through the park towards her car. “You don't have to.”
“Oh, no? You gonna stay in touch with little ol’ me?” Cassie's smile has no right being so enticing, even when it's wrought with mockery. Mocking herself more than Victoria.
Earnestly, she nods, black hair curly and loose down her shoulders. The mockery bleeds out of the smile, a glowing happiness replaces it. Victoria hastens to add ‘if you want, of course’.
“Of course I want,” Cassie still hasn't let go. Victoria's entire body is aware of this fact, and her woody cologne, and the way her deodorant must have stopped working about an hour ago, but even her sweat is alluring. “I just don't know if you wanna hang around with a forty two year old.” It's impossible to keep the anxiety from shaking her voice. Victoria leans into her, the orchestra of casual intimacy they have plucked the strings of for weeks now.
“I would love to, all the time, if you'd let me. We could get coffee. You could help me study. We could go to the movies.”
She wants to say ‘I'd spend my life following you everywhere’, but instead, she says: “If you… um.. want to. Do any of that. With me.”
Cassie's laugh has always somewhat irritated her; the fully bodied nature of it. Head tipping back, lips parting, sometimes that muscle in her neck protrudes. She allows her joy to encompass her, she doesn't shy away and wait for something to snatch it from her. Victoria envies the first few seconds of it, but then shifts herself into the atmosphere to remind herself she caused the encompassing elation.
“My favourite med student, I'd do anything you asked me to,” Cassie's nose crinkles, Victoria notices, with her toothy grin.
“Don't flatter me,” she rolls her brown eyes towards the sky, where the stars look down on her baleful, lovelorn nature with their own irritation.
“I'm serious. I don't flatter people, Vic. You're my favourite.” She brings her closer, somehow, inventing new space between them to fill. The wind whips at her red hair, cold and sharp, the smell of her conditioner is mellow and woody. Javadi takes a deep breath.
“What about the next round, hm? Are you going to have a new favourite?”
She wishes she'd parked on the other side of the city, when her car comes into view. She's supposed to be going home, to change, before drinks and a late dinner with Santos and the others. She knows in her tortured little heart that Cassie would've walked her whatever distance it took.
Cassie pauses to study Victoria's face. “A new favourite?” She repeats, but her utterance doesn't have the same desperate hoarseness. “No. I think you'll stick in my brain for a while, baby doe.”
“M-me?” Victoria even gestures to herself, in the middle of this park, under a white streetlight with an uneven pathway under her feet. Her legs are trembling in a way she often associates with Doctor McKay.
“Yeah, you, silly girl,” she reaches forward. Victoria knows what is coming, it happens almost daily, but every time feels like a different type of shock. Sometimes it's shock coupled with adoration, sometimes lust, sometimes panic. Cassie wraps her arms around Victoria, and buries her head in the crook of her neck.
Her feet, the uneven pathway they stand upon, are lifted out of the air. Cassie is squeezing her the way one might squeeze a can to crumple it – no, that's too violent. She tucks her into her body, like a four poster bed in a cabin in the woods, quilted blankets and fire roaring in the depths of Victoria's stomach.
“I love, um, being near you. I have loved working with you.” She mutters, into Cassie's navy scrubs. She feels Cassie's laughter, the hot breath against her chilled skin. McKay's curved lips are close enough to Victoria's neck that she can feel the goosebumps, the change in skin texture.
“Sweet girl,” she whispers, the words staving off the desire to kiss the pimpled skin and see if she can get any more pretty sounds to slip from those lips. “I've loved working with you, too. I like the way we just fit together.”
Cassie means in a room, wafting around each other, their own secret language of looks and smiles and gentle touches. Cassie means the way Victoria fits against her chest, the way she'd fit in her lap.
“Me too!” Victoria says, breaking the hug, lest her heart start battering McKay's own through their ribcages. “I'm sad it's over.”
Cassie's hands sit on her shoulders, squeezing just once. Reassuring, stoic, wordless promise. After a beat, she says “Hey! I'm more fun outside of work, anyway. Let's get you to your car.”
But that doesn't stop them. Victoria sits on the hood, Cassie joins her not seconds after. “It is sad, isn't it? Did you think it'd be this sad?” Victoria asks, looking at her own legs knocking against Cassie's. If she shuts her eyes, she can imagine them on McKay's battered leather sofa.
“Not at first,” she answers, honestly. “But you've really… stuck. In my brain. I look forward to seeing you every day. It'll be weird without my baby doe. I'll have to cling to someone else.”
“Don't. No, don't do that. I can visit? Four p.m., bring you a coffee, that kinda thing,” she notices, God, she really notices, the way Cassie stares at her smile. She feels her cheeks flush.
“I have to wait ‘til four to see you?” McKay leans into her, head on Victoria's own. “I don't think I could go that long.”
“We've had days off without each other,” Javadi wants to push this, to see how far it can go and how close she can get.
“Haven't you heard how miserable I was? You're like my little… pocket sunshine. My baby doe. How can I ever go on?” She plants a hand against her own forehead, dramatically. There's a true sadness in her features, worry for the future masquerading as light jokes.
“I could always move in.” Javadi grins, and Cassie grins, too. “Take me to work in your pocket.”
“I'd love that,” she replies, and casts a weary eye to the watch on her wrist. “Don't you need to go meet the others? Trinity, Dennis?”
She waits for a ‘no, they can wait’.
She gets one.
“They'll be fine, I said I needed to go home and change first, anyway.”
“You wanna sit here for a bit?” Cassie becomes aware of how she sounds, pathetic hopefulness scratching her throat, and straightens her back.
“I'd love to,” she gains an increment of confidence, and puts her head on Cassie's shoulder. Like a trigger has been pulled, an arm is around Victoria immediately.
Neither mouth opens for a whole three minutes, eyes on their touching legs or the sky above. Stillness, save for the bristling trees and rising and falling chests. Cassie's hand falls to touch Victoria's waist, and when Victoria doesn't shirk it, it stays there.
“Do you have to go now?” Cassie can't help but succumb to the feeling of harrowing finality – why would she stay in touch with a resident from a hospital she worked at for six months?
“No, not yet.” She shuffles nearer, across the hood of the car. With a soft ‘oh’ sound, she feels lips against the top of her head. A kiss on her head. Second nature, a subconscious unmonitored response to the closeness, Cassie grimaces and intakes a breath rapidly.
“Sorry - sorry. I just. I don't know. I'm… ‘down bad’? That's what Santos tells me. I think that’s right.” Cassie doesn't take her arm away, and Victoria can practically feel every wrinkle on McKay's lips indented on her scalp.
“I don't think that means what you think it means,” she giggles, and ignores the apology, it's irrelevant. No crime was committed.
“What does it mean?” McKay moves her head, to face the car in front of them.
“‘Down bad’ means, like, you have a crush. Like you need that person. Who was she saying you were down bad over?”
“Oh.” Red faced and clammy, she departs from their engagement, feet landing in the small gap between vehicles. “Yeah.”
“I don't think you're down bad for anyone, are you?” She moves forwards, Cassie right in front of her.
“I didn't think I was that obvious about it,” she folds her arms, green jacket straining at the shoulders, beams from above casting shadows on her face.
Victoria lets the disappointment drench her. “That's funny. Who is it? Is it Dana? Is it Heather?”
It sounds robotic, but Cassie is used to the defense mechanisms of Victoria Javadi.
“Well! Last night on Earth. Or at PTMC, I guess. It's you, sweetheart.” She claps her hands together, Victoria has seen Cassie deliver babies and treat severed limbs. She has never seen Cassie nervous.
“What?”
“It's you, sweetheart.” She lets out a shuddering breath, but there's relief there, too.
“Oh. Uh. Why?”
There it is. That all encompassing joy. “That's what you wanna know? ‘Why'? Look in the mirror. Watch yourself for a day. You're just,” Cassie pinches her fingers together, like an angry Italian stereotype, “loveable.”
“No, like… why didn't you say?” Victoria finds her words in the back of her brain, dusts off the cobwebs and thrusts them forwards with an uncharacteristic reckless abandon. “We could've… I could've… This-”
“You're short circuiting, baby. Take a moment, find your point.”
Victoria shuts her mouth. And her eyes, and gives her head the tiniest of shakes before they reopen to see Cassie. To really see her. Angular jaw, smile lines, blue and green and amber all meddling in her eyes like the paint palette of a landscape artist. Feet on the edge of the board, so to speak, she takes a dive. She asks, for the first time ever, for what she really wants.
“I want to, I would like to- if you would like to… I want to kiss…”
“Me? Or just anyone?” Cassie leans against Victoria's car, just to stabilize herself, prepare for rejection or acceptance or neither, and toss herself into the gutter to their left.
“You. I want to kiss you. Please.” There's conviction behind it. “I want to kiss you, Cassie.”
A monkey with a cymbal barges into Cassie's head and ears and heart, they all start to ring and throw her into some dumbfounded daze. The metal against her lower back must be melting, or her knees are just buckling.
“Can you - can you, um, do it, please?” Victoria puts her hands, loosely, fearfully, on Cassie's arms. She wants to be kissed by Cassie just as much, if not more, than she wants to kiss her.
The answer comes with hands on her waist, thumbs rubbing small circles on ribs that pang with need whilst she waits for the lips to touch. It feels like years, but it's mere seconds, until her lips are graced with tender, apprehensive movements.
Cassie’s thumbs are rubbing half-inch circles on Victoria’s ribs, tactile and delicate, whilst she uses every single ounce of resolve to prevent her teeth from nipping at skin. To prevent her from picking her up, opening the door to Victoria’s car, and devouring her on the spotless backseat.
Victoria's lips are soft, her tongue drags daintily across her bottom lip, and her teeth graze the flesh just once. Victoria's stomach muscles flutter when Cassie emits a barely audible groan.
Cassie's lips are commanded to cease their motions when Victoria smiles triumphantly at the little noise. The tiny noise. The noise that has turned Cassie's flesh red hot with searing embarrassment.
“Don't- don't make some sort of little… comment.” McKay buries her head in her hands.
“Do you always make that noise when-”
Cassie grabs Victoria's thighs, hidden force, like an undercurrent snatching unsuspecting victims into the depths, and presses their lips together again. She pulls her to the bottom of the hood, holding her legs around her hips. This time, Victoria groans, and doesn't have the courtesy to make it small.
“Finish the comment, sweetheart,” McKay urges, arrogantly, the figure of eight motions replaced with fingers longing to dig into flesh.
“When you're kissed.”
She should've known Victoria would follow an instruction. She grins, and this time, the kiss is just a peck. Quick, doting, sincere.
“Did you like that?”
Thick with concern, the question causes wide eyes to widen even more.
“Did I ‘like’ it?” Victoria's arms have ended up around Cassie's neck, she doesn't care to remove them. “Kissing? Kissing you?”
“Yeah,” McKay's soft curve of freshly kissed lips is enough for Victoria's legs to lock around her hips. Something inside of her veins, angry and urgent, wants to grind against her midriff. Her midriff that she shows off every day, stretching her stupid arms above her stupid head.
“Yes,” she doesn't stammer, the question was closer to an instruction than a query. “Did… you?”
“Yeah, of course I did,” she curls a strand of Victoria's hair around her finger, and places it behind her ear. “You're going to be really late.” She adds, letting her hand cup Victoria's cheek, thumb rubbing under her eye like swiping a dew droplet from a rose petal. Just stuffed full of contradictions, the other hand tightens on Victoria's thigh.
Victoria knows Santos. She'd understand, having been on the receiving end of oh so many rants about how annoying and attractive Doctor McKay is.
“It doesn't matter. They can go on without me. I…” she trails off, unused to being clear about her wants. Unused to saying ‘I want’.
“I'd offer to drive you home, but you have your car.” McKay scratches the back of her neck, wishing she had the forethought to not bring her own car.
“And you have yours.” Victoria adds, as if the thought was strong enough to transmit. As if she's at the bottom of the well, collecting wishes.
“Bummer, hey? I'd say ‘see you tomorrow’, but… I'm working.” The elephant stands between them, both trying to peer over and around it.
“Put me in your pocket.” Javadi suggests, sliding off the hood and onto the floor when Cassie's hand falls from her thigh. The threat of ‘goodbye’ starts to descend again. “Or let me move in. You have two options.”
Cassie kisses her again, Victoria on tiptoes in her expensive sneakers, the kiss extrapolates to Victoria's twitchy hands finding McKay's grey undershirt, and Cassie's tongue in her mouth. It feels criminal, in a sense, to get this on her last day in the Pitt. Rapidly, she grieves the many supply closet make out sessions they could've had. Like most grieving people, she finds solace in another's body. Cassie's stomach isn't hard like you'd expect, it's soft against her touch. The undershirt provides a barrier, but through the fabric her stomach is kneadable, with the hard sheet of muscle under stretch marks and a c-section scar.
“Cassie, I really want to-” Victoria catches herself after the ‘tuh’ sound at the end of ‘want’. She halts and steps back, Cassie's worry on her like a spotlight.
“You want to stop? You wanna go? Go to the others?” She poses many options, retracting a touch she fears has gone too far.
“I want to touch you, please.” Her lips barely move when she speaks, puppeteered by the need in her gut. The tremble in her legs. The sign slips before she catches it, Cassie's hands move back to Victoria's body like she has magnets in her fingertips and the woman across from her has real iron in her blood.
“I can bring you back with me tomorrow morning,” Cassie offers, “but you don't have to. I can see you tomorrow, after work? Take you for dinner?”
“No,” Javadi furrows her eyebrows. Brazenly, she pushes herself against Cassie so roughly that they tumble against the car behind them. Victoria leading the charge produces a wetness between McKay's legs, it's a bratty kiss, sucking her bottom lip and then biting the bruised flesh to hear a little whimper again.
The intensity doesn't match the sparkly eyes that stare up at her adoringly when they part, and certainly doesn't match the meek admission of: “I want to go home with you, please.”
“Whatever you want, baby doe,” Cassie's face splits into a joyous grin, hands fumbling for car keys to hear the chirp they'll follow to find her car.
Ever the starstruck gentleman, she opens the passenger door and takes Victoria's bag. When she pinches herself, all she is left with is a red mark on her wrist. The scene doesn't shift, she isn't in her bed waking from a restful sleep, or idling at the nurses station.
It’s all very real, the tentative hand on her knee as she drives quicker than normal through the mostly empty backroads to her apartment. The commentary of the drive is surprisingly smooth, debunking things from the day, reminiscing as if she’s been out of the job for years, not just hours. Lamenting their daily coffee, enquiring as to who will fill up Victoria’s water bottle three times a day without her asking now she’s moving on. Cassie says, with surety, she will still do it. Victoria’s chuckle is moderate and melodic, not an accurate representation of the furious greed she positively vibrates with.
No stranger to Cassie’s apartment, she climbs the stairs with fingers trailing the metal bannister. Cassie is a few steps ahead, Victoria’s bag slung over her own shoulder and keys jingling in her hands. Victoria watches Cassie move, confident strides, scrubs tight on her legs. She passes thought to the concept of being looked at, that way, by McKay. The thought passes down to her jaw, constricting with a grind of her teeth.
“Cassie?” The hallway light flickers on, motion sensor old and tired and little used. Victoria’s face is blasted with light, Cassie slides the key into the battered bronze lock and tilts her head.
“You look really pretty, Vic,” voice gliding through the air like a razor through paper, Javadi’s cheeks feel hot and she wills the unruly lock to just give way. “What were you gonna say?”
“That you look really pretty, too.” Not strictly true, her comment related more to the form of McKay’s ass as she climbed the stairs. Cassie raises both eyebrows, swinging the door open and throwing Javadi’s bag down on the floor with her own. Her metal water bottle thuds on the wooden flooring, Cassie’s smile short and apologetic.
“Want some water, or tea?” She offers, her twitchy and nervous limbs carrying her to the kitchen to dither and avoid the girl staring at her blankly. Victoria shakes her head, a small ‘no’ slipping from her lips. Cassie turns, her back flush against the counter, her tongue darts out to swipe her dry lips. She tastes remnants of Victoria’s strawberry carmex, and tenses her shoulders. “Is this… weird? Do you want to be here?”
Victoria recoils, ever so slightly, but noticeably so. Not with disgust, but dread, that this could all end in a moment. Cassie shakes her head, and rakes her hands through the recently freed red locks.
“You don’t - ah, God. You don’t wanna be here,” she mumbles, and leans forward to plant her hands on the counter in front of her. She lulls her head, staring at the shining surface. Victoria, uncertain in her steps on the cold tile, stands behind her. She lunges out, wrapping both arms around McKay and resting her head against her spine.
“I do,” Victoria assures her, striving to sound strong. To sound as honest as the words are. Cassie’s spine straightens with her head still resting against it, Victoria’s face tickled by tumbling hair. “I really do.”
With the force of someone really trying to get what they want, she kisses Cassie’s spine. Through her green coat, through her scrubs, hoping the pressure of her lips can land on the very disc under all of those layers.
“You do?” Cassie twists to face her, without altering the grip around her waist, the pressure against her body like the world’s most comforting weighted blanket. Victoria’s small nod is all that is required - she leans down again to take in another kiss. Like a gulp of water at three a.m, she drinks Victoria in. Every little hitch of breath, every small noise, she logs it in her brain.
Cassie has kissed Victoria’s head, Victoria has kissed Cassie spine and cheek, they have both tasted the others lips. But when Victoria draws back from the kiss, she realises there’s so much left to kiss. Diligence being one of her primary traits, she longs to study her subject fully. Cassie’s jaw is hard when her lips drag over it, tensing and untensing, and it makes Cassie’s hand snake under her scrubs to grab her hip.
Open mouthed kisses on Cassie’s neck earns her a little ‘ugh’ sound, and a hand travelling higher, to her waist. Cassie’s knee slips between her legs, Victoria tries to suck the skin, gently. “Fuck, Victoria,” she barely hears the moaned words, from the blood rushing to her ears as if she has been dangling upside down. Dizzy, when she detaches her lips and meets Cassie’s eyes. The light in the kitchen is dim, Cassie’s face is red and her head tips backwards. Victoria can see her own saliva on the skin.
“Sorry, carried away,” she mumbles, for some reason, she bunches the others’ scrubs in her fist and tugs. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry, just let me have a turn,” she grins, crookedly, and takes Victoria’s face in her hands. She starts, gently, lovingly, with a kiss to the very tip of Victoria’s nose. But then, in quick succession, the nose becomes the cheeks and the cheeks become the jaw but Cassie has more vim – no, more bravery – and she launches an attack on Victoria’s collarbones. Pulling the scrubs aside, kissing along the very bone as if stripping it of meat in the kindest, most sensual way possible.
“Oh,” Victoria sighs, and sighs even louder when Cassie’s knee returns between her legs, but this time it presses upwards. Victoria groans, and bunches the scrubs in her fist again. Cassie sucks harder than Victoria did, grazes her teeth harder than Victoria did, and goes on for longer than Victoria did.
She keeps her mouth working on the skin, every inch covered in her DNA, until Victoria bucks her hips against the lowest part of her thigh in a silent plea to move on.
“More, sweetheart?”
“Yes,” Victoria’s voice cracks when the pressure is removed, and her hand is taken from its fabric holding position to lead her to the bedroom.
She had been in Cassie’s bedroom once before, when her car had broken down in the rain and she trudged all the way here to ask Cassie - who was on her day off - for a ride home. The only apartment she knew the way to on this side of town. Cassie insisted on giving Victoria a full change of clothes, all those garments still live in her bedroom.
In a way interesting to Victoria, but appreciated nonetheless, the light is not switched on upon their arrival. But Victoria is pushed, gently, down to the bed. Cassie cups her chin, tilting it upwards. All at once, she drops to her knees, and slips Victoria’s shoes from her feet.
Scrubs are made for durability, comfort is an added bonus, but it often means the fabric is rough. It’s rough against Cassie’s lips, when she kisses upwards on the inseam of the trousers. Granted another ‘oh’, like a comically large key to the city, she grins as she kisses and the ‘oh’’s start to become a mantra of sorts.
And then she, and her lips, are knocking at Victoria’s waistband. Breathless, she juts her hips, but Cassie keeps moving higher and higher, over fabric and sternum, to the chin she held in her hands. “Are you OK?” She poses the question with unwavering kindness.
“Yes. Cassie, can I…”
“Whatever you want, baby,” Cassie replies, arms suspending her over Victoria, another kiss to the tip of her nose. Victoria pushes her off, and to the bed, where she lies flat. Winded by big brown eyes, more golden than chestnut when the fires begin to spark.
Victoria fumbles at Cassie’s t-shirts, and Cassie lets her, even when her cold fingertips touch the stretch marks on her lower stomach. Victoria kisses her abdomen, all over, messy and uncoordinated and hungry. Cassie puts her hands over her face.
“I have wanted to do this,” the words are husky between kisses, furious ones, “for so long. Whenever you stretch your arms,” she kisses again, lips catching the waistband of Cassie’s boxers.
She giggles. Girlishly, strangely, awkwardly, Cassie giggles. Victoria rears her head, eyes wide and confused.
“Come here,” Cassie demands, scrubs riding up to her ribs, the lowest part of her grey sports bra, Victoria has no option but to straddle her. With assistance, Javadi pulls the top of her scrubs over her head, ruffling already ruffled hair. Cassie stares at the lilac lace trim atop the fabric of Javadi’s bra, she reaches out, and runs her thumb along the delicate adornment. “Pretty.”
“Thanks, it’s from-”
“I meant you, baby doe,” she corrects, a tender smile painted on her features. Cassie has never experienced anything like this; the bottomless pit that tells her no amount of Victoria will ever be enough. This softness in such a predicament.
Suddenly, like hail too heavy to be held in a cloud, Victoria lets herself fall on top of the other. Cassie’s hands are measured, where Victoria’s are frantic. In her hair, on her shoulders, reaching down to drag nails over her stomach. Cassie flips them, easily, with her hips and thighs pinning Victoria to the bed.
“Can I touch you?” Cassie wants the confirmation, loud and clear. She gets it, and spares no time, letting her hand wander languidly across Javadi’s stomach. She is stilled, but only so her own tops can be tossed asunder. Then, with tight lungs and a palpitating heart, Victoria urges McKay to continue. A mumble of ‘please’ into the limited space between them.
Slowly, observing every minute reaction on her baby doe’s face, she lets her hand delve beneath the tightened elastic bands. Victoria wants to tug a pillow down to cover her face, especially when fingertips make contact and Cassie’s lips twitch into a pleased smirk at the unrelenting noises, she can’t help the rush of embarrassment.
Soon, the circular motions of Cassie’s steady fingers mean that the embarrassment has no room to live, nowhere to inhabit in Victoria’s body. She grinds up to meet the touch, the sound of her own slickness fills the room in between ‘good girl’ mutterings against her jaw. Victoria’s eyes are squeezed shut, her face contorted in a way she is sure is unattractive. But it can’t actually be, otherwise Cassie wouldn’t be kissing her so mercilessly. Cassie wouldn’t be moving downwards, even as her fingers persist in their motions.
Victoria shudders at the increase in speed, body tensing and untensing like some sort of feverish convulsion. Cassie slows down, head now over her midriff, kisses just above her belly button piercing.
“Can I taste you?” She kisses lower, but not that low, needing her answer first. Victoria grinds her hips into nothing, Cassie’s hand removed from her waistband and now on her side, tickling fingertips tracing up and down.
Victoria’s entire body feels like it is suspended by helium balloons, floating adjacent to her soul. “Yes. Please.” She says, expecting the same lazy softness. With a guttural, “Fuck, Cassie,”, she realises that was the dam breaking - in many ways. Cassie pulls her trousers down with her underwear in a swift, expert swipe. And then her mouth is everywhere - inner thighs, dampened with a combination of Victoria’s own wetness, and Cassie’s saliva. Her hipbones, the tops of her thighs, even down to her knee, before she hones in on what she wants.
A hand in her hair isn’t enough stability, so Victoria’s other hand claws at the bedsheets when Cassie’s tongue laps quickly at the already sensitive and spent bulb. Cassie is everywhere in this room - in the air, on her skin, on the bed, in her bloodstream, somehow, she is sure. She wraps her thighs around Cassie’s head, and earns herself a grunt of approval and a ‘good girl’ that is stifled by her own body.
In something Victoria would describe as ‘just fucking insane’, hands, both of them, abandon the lower half of her body and reach up to intertwine their fingers. Cassie McKay likes to hold hands whilst she makes women - Victoria - cum. A fact that she will never, ever share with anyone. The mere idea of hands holding someone else’s, coarse voice talking someone else through the shaking of their own legs, is enough to make her feel unwell.
Victoria’s second orgasm takes longer to get here, Cassie draws it out with suction and licks so soft that she isn’t sure she is even being touched.
“You OK?” McKay’s fringe is stuck to her head, she crawls up the bed to tug Victoria onto her chest, to lie there in the clouds together, balloons tied to their ankles. Victoria nods, but can’t bring herself to open her eyes. There’s a certain sleepiness that comes with two orgasms in a ten minute span.
“‘M fine,” she replies, and wraps a leg around Cassie’s waist, a territorial action in an empty room. “I wanna touch you.”
“You have all the time in the world, Victoria,” Cassie replies, planting a hand on her bare side. “Sleep, for now. I’ll get us some water.”
“Don’t,” she grumbles, nuzzling her head nearer and inhaling the scent of sweat like it’s the world’s most opulent perfume. “Don’t you dare move.”
“Whatever you say, gorgeous,” Cassie speckles her acceptance with a kiss to the head. Wide awake for subsequent hours, she listens to every snore and sigh. Even in her sleep, she is too sweet, keen lips adorning Cassie's pale skin with featherlight, teasing kisses, that do little to aid the ache between her legs and more to make it worse. Cassie tries to sleep, shut her eyes and count sheep, tense and untense all her muscles.
But then she might miss a snore, or a kiss, or a shuffle or a mumble. She can work on no sleep, if she has a good enough reason to toss the idea of resting away. The ‘good reasons' just keep coming as the clock ticks on and on and on.
But the last thing before she eventually falls victim to a day's work ragging her bones into the mattress, is something she hopes will live at the very front of her brain for as long as she has a memory.
Tiredly, but consciously, Victoria's lips brand her skin with a hot breathed whisper. “Tomorrow, I want to taste you.”