Angel

──˚₊୨ৎ‧₊˚──

You're not quite sure when you and Sevika officially started dating.

It happened much like your first kiss— spontaneous, but still entirely inevitable. The kiss shared in her doorway became a kiss on your temple to greet you, hands held whenever you strolled the streets of The Lanes, a spare toothbrush in her bathroom, and the right side of her closet dedicated to your clothes.

And now, you're sprawled out in her bed, watching the morning sun catch the copper metal of her left arm as she pads around the room, getting ready for work.

"You still good to pick Isha up from school?" She muses, feeding a leather belt through the belt loops of her slacks. "No worries if not. Don't want you to feel like that's something you're responsible for."

You softly smile, nuzzling against her pillow.

"I don't mind at all," you reply, voice still thick with sleep. "Jus' feel bad they're keeping you so late. Three hours for a meeting is—"

"Fucking ridiculous," she suddenly spits, looking at you.

You chuckle as she huffs, now fastening her watch onto her wrist.

"I'll tell you what," she continues, "I've never taken a sick day in my life. But a meeting 'til seven o'clock in the evening?"

She walks over to you, interrupting her own train of thought to press a kiss to your forehead before continuing,

"I almost said 'fuck it' and submitted the PTO last night."

"Not too late to call out," you suggest, pulling her in for a kiss that's slow, lazy, and clearly meant to escalate.

But that's the thing.

The two of you haven't had sex yet.

You've never had sex at all.

And Sevika insists that your first time should be more than a frantic quickie.

"You're so chivalrous," you always tell her.

"If I'm not chivalrous, I'm dead," she always replies.

But it's moments like these— moments where she pulls away from a kiss with swollen lips and a hungry gaze— that you wish she'd throw chivalry to the wind and ravage you.

But, alas. She insists on an ordeal. And, unfortunately, there isn't much time for ordeals when there are jobs to work, errands to run, and a six-year-old to take care of.

So, you relent once she says she's going to be late, and watch with a pout as she makes her way toward the bedroom door.

"Don't have too much fun without me," she jokes, one foot already in the hallway.

You snort. "My hand is already halfway down my pants, dude."

She barks out a laugh, shutting the door behind her before making her way down the hall.

You listen closely to boots growing farther and farther away.

You sit up to make sure you catch the sound of the front door being locked from the outside.

And as soon as you hear it,

You're falling onto your back. Pulling out your phone. Reaching for your earbuds.

Watching porn at eight in the morning is certainly not among your proudest moments, but, hey, at least you aren't watching it out loud through your phone's speakers. Pilties aren't the only people with decorum…

You navigate to the page of a couple you've admittedly grown slightly emotionally attached to, and sigh in relief as you reach down to press against the ample arousal already dampening your underwear.

It isn't Sevika's hand tracing circles over your clothed clit. It isn't her above you, stealing your breath away, pressing kisses to lips, your jaw, your collar bone, before trailing down, down, down to the heat between your thighs.

But, Janna, she's all you can think about. Even with the vision of melding bodies and the sounds of their coupling playing on your phone. Especially when you roll your head to the side, press your face into Sevika's pillow, and all you can smell is her.

The jasmine-scented shampoo she hates the smell of, but won't throw away because it'd be a waste. The sea salt and cedar soap you gifted her last year, which she claims is too fancy, but keeps replacing.

You can practically smell her stepping out of the shower now. You can see it, too; steam wafting in from the bathroom, Sevika stepping out in nothing but a towel wrapped loosely around her waist, droplets of water beading on bronze skin, her fingers combing strands of dark, wet hair out of her face—

You press your thighs together.

The pressure isn't enough.

So, all of a sudden, you're snatching her pillow out from under your head, rolling onto your side, trapping it in between your legs, and riding it like you did her thigh last weekend.

The postman had interrupted that. If he interrupts this, too, he's a dead man.

You wrap your arms around the pillow, one hand pushing the cushion against your core and the other holding your phone up to your face as you desperately chase your release. It's pathetic, really; the way your hips feverishly buck, the way your brows furrow and your teeth clamp down on your bottom lip, the way her name tumbles from your mouth in a pleading whisper.

You might be embarrassed by just how pathetic it is if you could think at all.

But you're so lost in it. Too lost to pay attention to the bodies on your screen. Too lost to listen to the mewls and moans playing through your earbuds.

Too lost to hear her rushing down the hallway.

She bursts into the room, and you yelp, shooting up and ripping your earbuds out of your ears.

"Sorry, doll; I left my damn wallet, because of course—"

Her eyes hadn't caught you in their initial sweep of the room.

They're glued to you now.

You, chest heaving, eyes wide, legs squeezed shut.

Her pillow between them.

"Shit. You weren't kidding about having a hand halfway down your pants, huh?"

"I'm sorry," you begin to jabber, "I didn't— I thought you were gone and I didn't hear you come back in and I was just— this morning we were— and then I just couldn't—"

The shit-eating grin on her face softens as she approaches, her voice softening just the same.

"Baby," she coos, mattress dipping where she sits on its edge, "why are you sorry?"

You blink rapidly, scrambling to find your words through thoughts racing as fast as your heart.

"I just… I-I don't know," you stammer, mortified. "This is…"

You look over at the now-paused video on your phone, down at the pillow in between your legs, and back up at her.

"This is really embarrassing," you finally exhale.

"Is it?"

You punch out a single laugh, incredulous.

"Is it? Yes, it is! You just walked in on me riding your pillow! That's— ugh!"

You bury your hands in your face, cheeks burning.

She leans in to press a kiss to your head. Then, one to your temple.

Then, one to the soft skin just below your ear.

She lets her lips brush its shell as she husks,

"You don't think I find it super fuckin' hot that you got this riled up over a kiss?"

Your head pops up because that statement is, frankly, offensive.

"It was not just a kiss, Sevika. Your hand was about two inches from my—"

"You're right," she smirks. "I didn't even have to touch you, and here you are, writhing against my pillow like you're in heat."

That statement is infinitely more offensive.

And, unfortunately, it also goes directly to your clit.

You scoff. Roll your eyes. Grumble, "You're so mean."

But your thighs press together even harder.

And Sevika notices, because of course she does. She knows exactly what she does to you.

And she's just decided it's high time she does something about it.

"Gimme a second," she mumbles, reaching into her back pocket for her phone.

You watch, confused, as her thumbs dart across the screen.

"What are you doing?"

"What's it look like I'm doing?" She replies, placing her phone on the nightstand before reaching down for the laces of her boots. "I'm calling in sick so I can stay home to fuck you."

Right.

Naturally.

"… Is that alright?" She inquires, observing your slack-jawed expression with an air of confusion, like you're the one who's lost their mind.

"I… you…"

And finally, you burst into laughter.

"You called in sick to take my virginity?"

"There you go," she smirks. "Now you're getting it."

"Sevika," you guffaw. "This is… You did not need to do that."

"I know I didn't need to," she replies.

But the dress shirt that's already been yanked off and thrown into the pile of laundry across the room signals that she damn sure wants to.

"I'm serious, Sev."

She looks up from peeling her socks off to find that you're starting to curl into yourself— that you're wringing your hands, that your eyes are landing anywhere but on her.

That you're nervous.

"Hey. Look at me."

She plants a hand on your thigh, squeezing twice.

A shaky breath escapes you as you meet her gaze, your cheeks prickling with heat.

"You call the shots here," she asserts. "If all you wanna do is lay in bed and watch some rich housewives bitch at each other, we can do that instead."

"You called outta work for me, baby," you chortle. "I'm not gonna make you watch shitty TV with me all day."

She rears back, feigning deep offense.

"I beg your pardon. The Real Housewives is the pinnacle of modern television, and I, for one, happen to enjoy watching rich housewives bitch at each other."

You laugh because Sevika's not kidding. She's very invested in the current fallout of Patricia's latest fundraiser flop.

"I was already halfway to calling out as soon as I realized I'd left my wallet here," she admits. "Seein' you curled up in bed all hot and bothered definitely sealed the deal, I'll admit, but that doesn't mean that anything has to happen. You don't owe me a thing."

"No, no," you shake your head, "I want to. I want to have sex. I just…"

You sigh, and she smiles, warm and patient and encouraging.

"I'm just nervous, I guess," you say with a bashful chuckle.

"Makes sense," she nods.

"And it feels silly," you continue, "because it's not like we haven't done anything."

"'S not stupid."

"But what if I'm not good at it? Or… or I can't finish, or I make weird noises, or—"

"Y/n."

Sevika's voice is stern as she interrupts, but the moment your eyes meet hers, a grin tugs at her lips.

"Number one: There's no such thing as being 'good at sex.' 'Good' is subjective. Everyone likes something different. Your only job is to tell me what you like and what you don't. Understand?"

"Yeah…"

"Good. Number two: Please refer back to point number one, which states that your only job is to tell me what you like and what you don't. Your job isn't to come. Sex doesn't have to be about coming at all. We'll do what feels good for as long as we want, and if we get an orgasm or two out of it? Great. If not? No sweat. The goal is just to have a little bit of fun. Okay?"

A smile of your own tentatively stretches across your face as you nod.

"Okay. Number three:"

She pauses for a moment, like she knows you'll get a kick out of what comes next.

And she's right. When she suddenly declares that,

"The weirder the noises, the better."

You can't help but snort.

"I'm serious. None of that fake pornstar moaning bullshit. I would genuinely rather you sound like a dying animal than be in my bed faking moans."

A look of betrayal flashes across her face at the mere thought, and you can't help but throw your arms around her neck as you laugh.

Her arms snake around your waist, her hold firm, her low chuckle soothing as it rumbles through you.

"Hey," she murmurs, pulling you back to look at her. "We still don't have to do anything."

"I know," you nod.

And before you can help it, you're leaning in.

Your body buzzes as your lips press against her own. Her mouth is soft and sweet. The kiss is, too.

Until she pulls away just enough for you to share breath for a moment. Until her bottom lip brushes against your own, until she catches it between her teeth, until her tongue is in your mouth and your hands are in her hair and you're only pulling away again because your lungs are empty.

That's when she gives you the look. The one she gave you as she guided your rolling hips against hard muscle before the postman knocked. The one she gave you this morning before you both remembered that her 9-5 exists, and it was already 8:45.

The one that always makes you think,

I need her to fuck me.

But this time, that sentiment escapes you— barely— an "I'm ready," that's just above a whisper and sounds more like a plea than anything.

Still— this time, it isn't just a desperate thought. This time, it's real. You're ushered to lean back onto the pillows propped up against the headboard, and your heart pounds, because this is actually happening.

"Comfortable?" Sevika asks, standing to undo her belt and take off her slacks.

"Yeah," you exhale, breath quaking.

"Nervous?" She knowingly smiles, climbing back onto the bed, now donning nothing more than a pair of boxer briefs, a racerback bra, and a pair of socks.

"Mhm," you smile back, eyes tracking her as she lies down next to you and props herself up on an elbow.

Her free hand reaches up to cradle your face, the metal especially cool against the warmth of your skin.

"That's okay," she assures you, her thumb stroking the apple of your cheek. "Nerves are fine. You just let me know if they start feelin' bad and you wanna stop, yeah?"

"Okay."

"Okay," she echoes with a grin. "You good if we pick up where we left off now? 'Cause I really like having your tongue in my mouth."

You weave your fingers through the silky strands at the nape of her neck and pull her toward you, your lips crashing together.

Your teeth clack as you smile against each other's mouths, and though you're hundreds of kisses removed from the first one you shared with Sevika, it feels like you're right back on the couch in her living room, where you learned how to do this in the first place.

Your legs tangle as she swings one of hers over one of yours, but suddenly, you're lurching away.

"Dude," you scold. "Socks in bed? Take those off, you freak."

For a long moment, Sevika stills, thrown by the sudden condemnation.

"Seriously?" She narrows her eyes. "You're on my ass about socks in bed right now?"

"Seriously. Take 'em off if you want a piece. Non-negotiable."

She laughs in disbelief.

She takes them off anyway.

Because, yes, she absolutely does want a piece.

"Alright," she chuckles, flinging the last sock onto the pile. "Your first non-negotiable. I appreciate your communication."

You hum in acknowledgement as she leans back in to kiss you, and with her socks officially off and the sensory nightmare safely dodged, her legs are quickly tangled with yours once more.

Like muscle memory, her thigh ends up pressed against your clit, and you suck in a breath of air.

"This okay?" She immediately asks.

"Yeah," you reply in between kisses. "It's perfect."

A single rut against her thigh elicits a sigh of contentment; of relief.

This is already better than her pillow by a long shot.

"Can we keep doing this for a little bit?" You ask, your hips now rocking steadily back and forth. "I really like it… Makes me really wet."

The groan Sevika lets out makes you even wetter.

"Fuck— course we can, baby. You can have whatever you want. You just tell me, and I'll make it happen."

You nod as her lips follow the path of your jaw down to the column of your neck. She's breathing heavy against your skin, pressing open-mouthed kisses anywhere and everywhere she can.

She bites.

"Marks okay?"

"Mhm."

She sucks.

And by the time she comes back up to look at you with swollen lips and pupils blown wide, you're littered with blooming bruises.

"Janna," you chuckle breathlessly. "You tryin' to eat me?"

"Can I?"

Your eyes snap to each other's.

The insinuation isn't lost on you. You know what she's really asking for— and she looks surprised, like she hadn't meant to ask at all.

So you pause.

"Are you asking to eat me out?"

Sevika lets out an airy chuckle, and you swear you see the tips of her ears go red.

"Only if that's something you're comfortable with. Up to you."

You give her a grin.

Hook your thumbs around the waistband of your underwear and pull them down your legs.

And as you toss them to the floor, you nod,

"You can eat me out. I want you to eat me out."

She perks up like a puppy who just heard "treat."

"You sure?" She breathes, still as a statue until you give her another nod.

But the moment you do?

"Oh, fuck," she sighs, scooting down to begin pressing a line of kisses down your stomach.

"Oh, fuck, oh fuck," she chants.

You grin, running your fingers through her hair. "Someone's excited."

"No, you don't understand," she shakes her head, hovering just over your mons. "This is, like, my favorite shit ever."

You can't help but giggle, but a gasp intercepts as she gets close enough for you to feel her breath on your cunt.

Her head snaps up, her eyes locking onto you.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," you shakily reply. "I'm okay. It's just… new. I feel exposed," you chuckle.

"Yeah," she snorts. "That's why some folks don't like this. Having someone's face right in your vagina is, uh…"

She doesn't finish her sentence before you burst into a fit of laughter, and she's quick to follow in her own.

"It's a lot," she concludes. "You still want to try it?"

"Oh, yeah," you nod quickly. "I do. I'll let you know if I wanna stop."

She grins, proud.

"Sounds good, sweetness."

She wraps her arms around your legs, and your hands find purchase in the sheets, the clench of your fists grounding as your body begins to buzz with anticipation.

"Some people like for their partners to start at their thighs. Other people like for their partners to dive right in," she explains. "You got a preference?"

You think for a moment, eyes squinting.

"Start at my thighs," you decide.

So Sevika nods and places a kiss on your inner thigh, and you yelp.

"Nope. Nevermind. That tickles so fucking bad."

Her head drops as she laughs, her hands massaging the plush of your thighs instead.

"Dive right in, then?" She asks, looking back up at you with an amused smile.

"Yeah," you smile back. "Go for it."

Her flesh hand squeezes your thigh one last time before it lets go.

"Can I use my fingers to spread you open?"

She watches your pussy clench in response.

"Is that a yes?" she smirks.

You hide your face with your arms.

"I hate you," you mutter, but she can see your smile peeking out.

"Yes or no, baby doll?"

You uncover your face, and the adoring smile she wears almost makes you feel more exposed than having her so close to the heat between your thighs.

"Yes," you whisper, breath stolen. "Go ahead."

She nods, allotting you one more moment to change your mind if that's what you want to do.

But your anticipatory gaze doesn't relent, so her eyes drop down to your cunt, and,

"Damn. You do get real fuckin' wet riding my thigh."

Before you can scold her for teasing, she places her middle and ring fingers at your opening, and slowly glides them upward, spreading you apart in the process.

You jolt at the sensation. Her middle finger brushes over your clit, and you jolt again— this time, with a hiss.

"How's that feel?" She purrs, eyes still trained on your lower lips.

You let out a deep sigh, and with it, your body relaxes.

Sevika smiles to herself.

"Good," you nod. "Really good. Way different than touching myself."

"Yeah," she agrees, looking up at you, "it is really different."

She looks back down and draws a slow circle across your clit with the pads of her fingers, and a low whine escapes you.

"When you touch yourself," she asks, "do you like the feeling of your fingers on your clit, or around it?"

"Around it," you quickly confirm. "It's too much when I'm right on it."

"Heard," she nods. "I'll keep that in mind."

She leans down to press a kiss to your mons, her nose tracing an imaginary line down to your cunt.

Her mouth is hovering just over your clit when she pauses to ask if you're ready.

And as soon as you say yes, her tongue is on you, flat and soft as it follows the trail her fingers had left; up through the slick gathering at your entrance, and around your clit once.

"O-oh," you shiver, one hand darting to grab at her hair. "That's…"

Good. So fucking good.

Your cunt tingles with every sensation; the warmth of her breath, the heat of her tongue. It's like nothing you've ever felt, and the loss of contact leaves you throbbing for more already.

"That okay?" She asks.

"Okay" is the understatement of the fucking century. In fact, that's what you might have said if one swipe of her tongue hadn't already left you reeling.

But right now, all you can reply with is,

"Please keep going."

And Sevika is more than happy to oblige.

She mimics her previous motion, sliding her tongue through your folds and around your clit before dragging it back down again. She does this two, three, four more times, before her tongue begins lapping around your clit in slow, sloppy circles.

You groan, hips already bucking into her mouth, grip tightening in her hair.

"Oh, yeah," you nod. "That's good shit."

She can't help but chortle into you, and you join her, eyes fluttering shut and head falling back against the pillows.

"Fuck, you're good at this," you breathe.

She places a kiss on your clit before pulling away to respond.

"Only 'cause you're good at telling me what you like."

"You're so humble," you lazily grin, releasing your grip on her hair to stroke her cheek with your thumb. "What about you, though? Do you like this?"

"Do I like this?" She repeats, not even bothering to conceal how ridiculous she finds that question.

"Yeah," you shrug. "I just wanna make sure you're enjoying yourself, too."

"Oh, baby," she replies, her voice low. "I'm exactly where I wanna be."

And with that, her mouth is on you again, her tongue returning to its path of circles around your swollen clit.

She hums in contentment against it, and you twitch. She wraps her lips around it and gently sucks, and your breath stutters. She swipes her tongue up and down against it, and—

"Ooh—"

A sound of disapproval escapes you as your hips jerk away.

"Too much," you explain.

"Too direct?" She asks, looking up at you.

"Yeah. Too direct."

"Sorry, doll." She presses a kiss to your thigh. "Thanks for tellin' me. You wanna keep going?"

"Oh, yeah," you sigh, your head falling back against the pillows, and your thighs falling further apart. "I do."

She goes back in with a flatter tongue, lapping at the arousal between your lips and tracing the hood of your clit, but making a point not to slide her tongue directly over it again.

And it feels so, so good.

She wrings pleasure from the swollen bud with every swirl. Every nerve lights up with each stroke. And soon enough, your breath picks up, your body starts to twitch, and you go taut.

"Oh, fuck," you sigh, covering her hands with your own.

She slides her hands around to the backs of your thighs before pushing them toward your chest— just enough to spread you open even more as she gets lost in how you taste.

"Oh, god," you whine, abs tightening as the knot in your belly tightens, too.

"Mhm," she nods against you.

She snakes her arms around your waist and pulls you close against her face, hunched over as she eats you like a woman starved— completely lost in how you feel, how you taste, how you sound.

And when you open your eyes and see her brows knit together in pleasure, her plush lips around your clit, her tongue darting out to circle it—

"I think I'm gonna come."

The words tumble out, high-pitched and airy.

"Fuck— fuck, Sev, I'm gonna— wait—"

She snaps out of her trance in an instant.

"You okay?" She pants, unraveling her arms from around you. She sits back on her haunches, giving you plenty of space, hands resting patiently on your upper thighs as you catch your breath.

"Yeah," you beam, reaching out to stroke her forearm. "God, I'm… I'm perfect. That was perfect. I just…"

Her eyes are wide and concerned as she waits for the rest of your sentence.

"No— it's not bad, babe," you chuckle, "I just, um… I think I want your fingers in me first. If that's okay."

Her eyes go even wider.

"Yeah?" She exhales. "You ready for that?"

"I think so, yeah. I, uh… I'm pretty fuckin' certain I'm wet enough for it, so…"

"Oh, yeah," she grins, looking down at the mess she made. "I can attest."

"Are you good with that?" You ask again. "Moving onto that, I mean?"

"Absolutely," she nods, decisive. "Whatever you want, sweetheart."

You nod back, pulling her toward you by the forearm you're still grasping.

"Yeah," you confirm. "I want you inside me, please."

She trills her lips, shaking her head as she settles in between your open legs and props herself up with her mech arm.

"You're so fucking good," she mutters, almost in awe. "You know that?"

She leans down to press a kiss to your lips, and you moan at the taste of yourself all over her mouth.

"Do you know how fuckin' good you've been for me?"

Another kiss.

"Can I touch you, baby?" She murmurs against your lips. "Will you show me how to fuck you so I can keep making you feel good?"

Your breath shudders as you nod fervently.

"Yes," you pant. "Yes, please. Please touch me. I'll show you how. I'll show you, baby, I—"

You inhale sharply as she palms your cunt.

Your legs snap closed around her waist, and she leans down, breath tickling your ear as she whispers to you.

"Easy, love," she coos. "Spread your legs for me, please?"

You nod, your legs falling back open as you reach up to wrap your arms around her neck.

"There we go..."

She parts you with her middle and ring fingers, dragging them up through ample arousal before catching your clit.

"Do you finger yourself much?" She asks, fingers moving up and down in soft, slow strokes on either side of the button between them.

"Mm-mm," you shake your head with a whine, chasing her movements with your hips. "I usually—"

You moan shakily as she moves from up-and-down strokes to tight circles.

"I usually focus on my clit," you pant. "Doesn't really feel like much when I— hm— when I go inside."

"Okay," she notes. "Is it ever uncomfortable?"

Her fingers still, and suddenly, you're able to focus.

"Sometimes, yeah," you nod, meeting her eyes. "I'm still pretty… I don't know… tight, I guess? And it's not like I really bother with much foreplay when I'm trying to get the job done myself."

"I hear you," she grins. "You're plenty wet already, which helps— obviously— but if we need lube, I've got it, and I have no qualms with using a shit-ton of it."

"Okay," you chuckle, your stomach flutttering.

"I'll start real slow. I'm talkin', annoyingly slow. You'll probably get impatient and start rushin' me, and I won't let you, and then you'll get aggravated with me for a few minutes 'cause you're spoiled and it's my fault, but you'll thank me later, okay?"

You laugh harder.

"Yeah, yeah. Okay. I get it."

"Yeah?"

"Yes, Sevika," you smile, wiggling your hips.

"See?" She raises her brows. "There you go already. I'm not even inside you yet."

You raise your brows, too.

"You wanna fix that?"

She sucks her teeth in reproval, a begrudging smile breaking out on her face.

"Sure," she speaks lowly, leaning down to plant a kiss on your lips. "I can fix that."

Her middle finger slides down to rest at your entrance, circling once.

"Real slow, okay?" She repeats, suddenly very focused; and now, you're suddenly very nervous.

"Okay."

The word comes out so shaky that she pauses, looking up at you with furrowed brows.

"You okay, my baby?"

"I'm okay," you stiffly nod. "It's just, like… I don't know… It's happening."

Her expression softens.

"I know it's not a big deal," you chortle, getting shifty. "No bigger a deal than having your mouth on me for the first time. Like, I don't even think I'm really a virgin anymore after that— but what even is virginity when only vulvas are involved, and—"

"Y/n?"

"Yep?"

"You're spiraling."

"I know."

And thank Janna, you both break out into laughter and the tension starts to melt.

"You're right," she begins. "It's not a big deal. But it is new. And, to be fair, it's kinda hard to unlearn all the weird emphasis people put on someone else being inside you for the first time, so, yeah. I bet this specific moment does feel really big."

You nod, sharply exhaling.

"But hey," she says, dipping down to catch your eye. "We're just trying somethin' new. That's all this is. You and me, trying somethin' new. Exploring each other's bodies—"

"No." You shake your head and curl your lip in disgust. "You're being weird. Don't be weird."

"There we go," she croons, pressing a kiss to your cheek. "Now you're back."

You roll your eyes with a reluctant smile before reaching up to press a kiss to her cheek in return.

"You ready for me?" she smiles.

"Yeah… ready."

You take a deep breath in through your nose and sigh.

"Good breath, baby," she remarks.

And then, the tip of her finger breaches your entrance.

You tense on instinct.

Her voice is soft as she speaks again.

"Gimme another one?" She asks.

And as soon as you exhale, you earn another few centimeters of her finger.

Sevika wasn't exaggerating. The pace she sets is torturous. By the time you're squirming, she's only a knuckle deep.

"Patience," she coos.

You huff in response. "I didn't even say anything."

"You were about to. I could feel it in my bones."

"You're so annoying."

"Let me finish working you open and get to fucking you, and then we'll see how you feel."

You pulse around the length she's given you so far.

"Yeah?" She lowly teases. "That sound like a plan?"

It isn't fair. Before you can offer a retort, she pushes in deeper, and you choke on a moan instead.

She dips down to nip at your earlobe, and when she speaks again, her voice sounds even lower this close to your ear.

"That's right, baby. Just take me. Just like this."

She sinks in to the second knuckle, and your jaw goes slack, your brows knitting together in equal parts focus and pleasure.

The stretch is a dull ache, but it isn't painful. Not at all. It's the satisfaction of working out a tight muscle after a run, or kneading a knot in your shoulder. It's deep, and resonant, and delicious.

"How you feelin', sweet thing?" She asks.

You swallow, wetting your lips as you nod.

"Really good," you whisper. "This feels really good."

"Different, huh?"

"Oh, yeah," you chuckle airily. "Super different. When I do it myself, it's like… like I can only feel what my fingers are feeling, you know? But this is… All I can focus on is… All I can feel is you."

Your walls flutter around her, and you moan, feeling dizzy. You reach down to grab her wrist, and you pull her hand forward, her finger sinking deeper. The further intrusion— the muted sting it produces— pulls a hiss from in between your teeth, but just as quickly, your head falls back against the pillow as you melt into the sensation, craving more of it, chasing after it.

Your hips rut up against her hand of their own volition, and before you can help it, you've settled into a steady rhythm, breath growing labored as you fuck yourself on her finger.

You reach down with your other hand, anchoring it to her forearm, pulling her even closer— deeper— until suddenly, you freeze, gasping at the feeling of her palm flush against you.

With wide eyes, you look down to find that every inch of her finger has disappeared.

And when you look up at her, she's already staring back with raised brows and a knowing grin.

"That's everything. You're takin' it all."

"Are you serious?" You pant.

"Last time I checked," she teases, looking down at where you swallow her. "You okay?"

"Y-yeah," you blurt, surprised. "I… yeah. That didn't hurt bad. Like, at all."

"It's not supposed to," she shrugs. "Not if you take your time. Not if you're patient. And you," she purrs, leaning down to kiss you before continuing, "were very, very patient."

You giggle, wrapping your arms around her shoulders and kissing her back.

Your tongues meet in a lazy dance, swirling around each other.

You break away and bring your thumb to her bottom lip, tracing its curve.

"Well," you reply, "you were making it very, very hard."

The lines at the corners of her eyes deepen as she grins.

"You still did good…"

She leans down to trace the bridge of your nose with the tip of her own.

"Do one more thing for me?"

"Hm," you lazily hum.

And then Sevika asks you to touch yourself.

"Can you do that for me, sweetheart? Reach down and show me what you do when I'm not here?"

You laugh, airy and shocked. "You're dirty."

You reach down, anyway.

"I'm curious," she smirks.

So you sate her supposed curiosity, your fingers moving over your clit as her finger remains still inside you.

"Good job, baby," she praises. "You still feelin' good?"

"Oh, yeah," you sigh.

"You want me to start moving?"

"Oh, yeah."

And finally, she eases her finger out to her second knuckle, making your breath hitch.

But when she plunges it back into you, curling it up toward your belly and flexing to massage the velvet under her fingers, you lose your breath completely.

"Oh, fuck," you keen, choking on your own words. "That's—"

Her next thrust punches a moan out of you, a sharp inhale following in its wake.

"That's so good, baby," you nod, wrapping your legs around her waist. "That feels so fucking good."

"Yeah?" she breathily encourages. "You like it?"

"I love it," you gasp.

"Oh, you love it?" She chuckles darkly. "You take it so good, too, baby— fuck, you feel so good."

Touching yourself is one thing. Having her inside of you is another. But both, at the same time?

It's intoxicating. Overwhelming. Addictive.

Every time you run your fingers over your aching clit, your walls convulse around her. Her finger works you open, pushing through resistance with a delicious pressure and slipping back out again.

The noise coming from in between your thighs is lewd— wet— mingling with the sound of labored breaths layering over one another.

And soon, your whiny moans join the chorus.

"Faster?" You plead; and she quickly obliges, losing herself in the warmth of your cunt.

"Like this?" She rasps, burying her finger to the hilt before pounding into you with short, deep strokes.

You let out a cry, your entire body beginning to tense as your fingers fly over your slippery clit.

For a moment, you can't manage words when every thrust is forcing a guttural moan from deep in your belly, but then, Sevika warns,

"You gotta talk to me, or I'm gonna stop."

You nearly sob at the thought.

"No! No, please— I'm so fucking close, Sev, please don't stop…"

"I've got you, babydoll," she coos, leaning down to pepper kisses across your face. "I've got you. I'm not stopping."

The hand that remains around her shoulder holds on for dear life, your nails digging into the firm muscle— and at that, Sevika lets out a moan of her own.

"God, you're so fucking good," she grits. "So fucking perfect."

Your muscles are wound impossibly tight. Your chest heaves with desperate breath. The cord in your belly is about to snap.

Sevika can feel it, too— can feel the way you're starting to clamp down around her finger.

By the time she says something, you're clamped down on her finger so tightly she can hardly move it.

"This still workin' for you, baby?"

And at that moment, you come harder than you ever have in your fucking life.

Your legs shake. Your cunt flutters incessantly. Deep pleasure rolls through your body in shockwaves.

And with one final jerk, you push her hand away before going limp against the pillows.

Everything goes fuzzy around you, your reality diminished to the sound of your pulse thrumming in your ears and the distant feeling of Sevika's hands kneading your hips.

You're not sure if the world went black because you were squeezing your eyes shut, or because you came so hard you couldn't fucking see, but regardless, when your vision returns, the first thing you see is her.

Awestruck. Smitten. Proud.

"Okay," she exhales. "I'll take that as a yes."

The two of you share a moment of stunned silence.

And then, you're both giggling, breathless and giddy as you wrap your arms around each other, and all you can think is,

Thank God she left her wallet.

"Fuck," you sigh. "Yeah. That was definitely preferable to pathetically riding your pillow."

"I don't know," she mumbles, rolling onto her back. "I think the pillow riding would've been pretty hot, too. Kinda sad you screamed and threw your phone across the room before I got to see it in action, you know?"

"Not fuckin' funny, dude."

You scrub your hands down your face before burying yourself in her chest.

"What were you watching, anyway?" She ponders under her breath, reaching for the phone that had since fallen to the floor beside the bed.

"Hey!" You frantically scold. "Don't look at my phone!"

But she's already falling halfway off the bed to do exactly that— and just before you succumb to mortification for the second time this morning, Sevika chimes:

"Oh, yeah! These two? They're great."