certified kissgirl

Can’t stop thinking about caitvi kisses after just a little too much time apart. Maybe it’s for business, Cait’s job. Maybe it’s some sort of personal endeavor. It doesn’t matter, really. Because Vi is tugging off the red jacket and throwing it haphazardly over the couch, and before she can inhale to call out for Caitlyn, she’s there. She pushing Vi up against the wall, breathing in the smell of her, feeling her ridged edges and sculpted muscle against her contrasting curves. “Jesus, Cait” Vi gasps out, but the only response she’s met with is a half whine/groan from Cait. And finally, when the taller girl does pull away, it’s to study her face and make sure everything is still in the right place, that it’s still her girl. There’s a beat that gets stuck, where both girls are too frightened to break the magic of the moment they’re stuck in. Like if one of them moves, the other will fade away and they’ll be left with the horrible ache of a dream. But the need for contact finally overcomes her fears. Cait crashes her lips into Vi and oh, does it feel good. It’s not like their usual kisses, no. It’s tongues and teeth, lips and gasps of air in between their fight for dominance. Hands move and grab whenever they can, moving to any exposed skin. Cait’s to the silver of stomach from Vi’s tank top moving up. Vi’s to the inch of skin between Cait’s tights and her dress’s hem. They try to breathe each other in, a little bit of spit stringing from their mouths when they do breathe from their previous struggle. Fuck, she missed her. And when they both tire of the door frame, and she carries her back to their bedroom, the same urgency will be carried out in everything they do. On both girls necks, their thighs, their stomachs. A physical reminder of how painful the distance was, of how much they need each other. Reminders of the effect they have on each other, even in the absence of the girls physical presence.