she’s my priestess, i’m your priest

“You’re incorrigible.”

She looks exquisite, breath-taking and disarrayed, and infinitely going to mess up your life kind of way. Her black, baggy muscle tank doesn’t show the outline of her abs that you know are there. What it does do is highlight her biceps in the dimly light library. Her shoulders that only seem to get wider in time, more defined in horrible ways that make you never want to give her up.

Unfortunately, it's exactly what lands you here. The very same reason you’ll hate yourself later. Just say no to her. It’s not hard. She’s only a woman. There’s so many out there. Other fish in the sea and what everyone on this god-green earth has spoken to you in the past.

You wonder if there’s more of her that can do what she’s doing with her tongue. A thought you cursed out of your mind for three consecutive days. Monday through Wednesday, you locked yourself up, besides the flow of your classes, pure isolation is the only solution you managed to find.

The stir-crazy brain got a grip on you as you shuffled your way into the library—it feels a lot like admitting defeat. It’s the only place you frequent, and exactly where she can find you.

The drill of the week chipping at you, your concentration hardly being able to resist when she sits next to you in the hidden corner of non-fiction memoirs on the third floor. These books have been collecting dust practically since the dawn of time. You should have known better than to think you could possibly be undisturbed for a week straight.

Once she found you, little to no probing you was needed. Vi makes you stand, because she’s absolutely insufferable, and she sinks to her knees. Overworked hands with her calloused palms and fingers tips kiss along your skin. She dips into the waistband, pulling them slowly until they hit the bottom of heels.

You have this whole, preppy look going on and Vi can't deny it always works on her. Short skirts, and your tight white and cream button ups that really do anything and everything for her. She can already feel her boxers clinging to her, sticky and sweet, all and becoming saccharine she’s been missing.

“Don’t get too loud, honeybee. Can’t have anyone know the smartest girl on campus fucks below her GPA average.”

That stupid name falling off her tongue makes you want to rip her hair out from the root, but all you do is keep her locked underneath your wool skirt. Violently carefully nails scraping in annoyance on her scalp. Last time you wore this outfit, Vi maneuvered her hands underneath and let her fingers fuck you in the co-op stall with your date down the hall.

It’s when you learned Vi didn’t like splitting your time with anyone else.

She's not what you usually go for. Arrogant, self-obsessed, but surprisingly sweet in a way you obstain from admitting. Her mouth gets in the way of it. Whether she’s on her knees like she is now, or letting dumb shit fly off the handle. Today, she’s managed to do both at the same time.

This time though? She’s practically boasting from the dig. Knowing you had the attention of her ex-girfriend, and might have even fucked her if Vi learned the capability of keeping her distance. “I really didn’t know—”

Vi shuts you up, lips wrapped around your clit, and a heavy moan leaves your mouth. You cover it when she flicks over your sensitive bundle of nerves, drawing patterns with her free hand on your thigh in the way she learned you enjoy.

“I can't really blame Cait—” She lavishes your cunt in a heated swirl of her tongue before her lips linger at the apex of your thighs, letting her fingers do the work for her while she speaks at you. “We always did have the same taste in women. It really must suck for her that you’re so obsessed with me.”

“I am not obsessed with you.”

Vi sinks another finger in, enjoying the instant possessive clench around her. “What about now?”

Without losing the power she has, Vi softly stands, while she keeps fucking you, until she’s looking at you, directly in the eye with her broad shoulders squaring against your frame. Her hot breath pressing against your neck as she flicks her wrist, her fingers curling until you grip onto her shoulder for leverage.

“Just admit it, there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.” Vi’s lips monopolize on the curve of your jaw, the expanse of your neck, and just behind your ear. The sharp intake of your breath stirs a groan within her. Animialstic as it soars through her chest. “You always wanna be with me, huh?”

With one hand having her way with you, she lets the other precisely unbutton your shirt. The first time she hasn’t ripped one off, leaving you to awkwardly walk back to the parking lot to your car. Vi’s picks up her pace, enjoying the rapid fall of your chest every second you get closer.

“You’re so full of yourself.” You try to bite convincingly, but Vi does it much better when her teeth playfully sink into your neck.

“Maybe.” Vi slides her left hand underneath the wiring of your bra, tweaking your already peaked nipple. “But I do know when a pretty girl likes my company, and my fingers—and likes it even more when I fuck her with my mouth.”

“Shut up, Violet.”

“Oh, are you close already, baby?” Her thumb plays with your clit, applying more pressure as your hips buck into her. “You do always get a little bratty when you try to avoid me and realize where home is.”

A roll of your eyes doubles, and you’re about to tell her off. Really roll right over her. Let her cocky smirk slide right off her beautiful goddamn, scarred lips. Vi’s quick to see maybe she’s pushed you too far. So, she does the one think that always sets you off.

Popping your full breasts out of the lace cup, and one of them delectably falls in her eager mouth. It’s far too much, too soon, and you can hardly catch your breath.

“Vi, please—”

Your hips are riding her fingers as much as you can. Making sure she keeps them curled and sinking into the spot you’re chasing. This is when she really does you in. She goes all sweet, her alter-ego taking over, and she sheds her second-skin like a snake. This is the unfiltered version of her. Vi doesn’t put on a show. She’s not cocky and triumphant about fucking you. She’s full of honey and dreams. Sticky and too damn sweet.

It’s short lived, lasts as long as your orgasm does, and it’s your deadly secret you keep at night when your vibrator is between your thighs, trying to replicate the high. The reason you are obsessed like she claims. It has little to do with how she fucks. When she’s eager and putting all her strength into nimble and capable fingers. While it bodes well for your libido, your heart crushes underneath the weight of her compliments that leave her breathe in the secluded corner.

Almost like Vi blacks out when you beg.

It brings out the sweet-tooth in her, and you’re the sweetest piece of candy she’s ever tried.

“My sweet and smart, honeybee.” Vi pulls off your tits, and consumes your mouth, tongue and teeth overwhelming your every sense. “Be my sweet girl, yeah? My pretty girl always get what she wants, doesn’t she? Come for me, baby. I know you’re right there.”

And you do.

the store's full and she needs a moment to remember how exactly she ended up in that position: when she accepted to join you in a shopping spree the idea of public fucking never even crossed her brain but having you try on cute clothes in front of her? must be a gift from heaven between lacy bras and cute underwear that slips inside of her mind until it's the only thought she can keep for more than a minute. a kiss, two, three, how can you not want her hands all over you? how can't want take all over?

it's not planned. big chunky doctor martens boots with exquisite platforms are enough to make you salivate and suddenly? vi's stomach drops cause you're sitting on her left feet and the movement becomes a torture — makes your girlfriend swear she can feel you even under the thick leather of the shoe while that cute underwear set you were trying before makes wonders, hell-- since when is green such an interesting color? since when exactly are you into boot riding?

it's reasonable vi thinks, more worried about not being aware of when you pushed her to the dressing room's seat than the situation itself, now trapped in a small chair that holds her entire weight as she gets comfortable for you: when did your non-bought underwear start getting soaked like that? ignoring any detail becomes an impossible task now as you're whimpering, biting your lips, your inner cheek-- anything in your power to keep the pleasure for yourself, to keep going without the risk.

"that's it bug-- holy fuck. you're doing so good."

the moisten leather helps you move, and your cunt opens following the form of vi's shoe, delicious friction that makes the blood move in its circulation flow, take it to the erogenous zones: that fucking green set makes you look like a goddess and she cannot stop looking it ready to burn it to ashes, see the sweat that makes you glow under the white lights closer, the disheveled look, needy to cum.

"are you going to take a picture? they last longer."

it's entrancing, how you're capable of mocking her even when you're the one melting, a mere whisper of encouragement that makes vi blush. crushed, she's not surprised by the warmth that comes from between her parted legs, the result of her underwear now sticking to her pussy lips due to how turned on she is making it more painful to endure. half nervous, your girlfriend's voice never betrays her before simply adding: — "not really in for pics, bug-- you gonna be a nice whore for me and let me record you?"

and fuck you're dirty. you're pure filth and violet's aware of it, of every nasty thought, every crazy idea that crosses your mind in the worst moments. she knows that smile you gift her from before, how it tingles your brain right where she wants to before taking her phone out ready to press play.

fuck it if it's a mess when you become needier as the seconds pass: is it really greedy to ask for more? is it really your fault as your hand reaches the thick fabric of her black jeans and rub between her legs? it's a way of helping yourself out too, notice your girlfriend in delicious details you keep to yourself, relish in how her breathing picks up, how her cheeks keep stained in a subtle red shade.

"please let me eat you," you blurt out, words slipping on their own until it becomes a shared secret you love to be a part of, "vi-- please let me eat you."

it's like winning the olympics, a gold medal on fucking you up.

"what happened to the boot?"

"please."

"you will put on a good show for me, bunny?"

the need is a sin and violet's guilty. guilty of indulging your needs, always incapable of saying no. her muscles tense as she's holding her weight up so you can take off her pants, and there's no time to think about it twice, be aware of how pathetic she must look-- the ruined underwear that is now a proof of an overwhelming desire, the sound of your laugh that leaves goosebumps behind cause shame's not a valid option anymore-- god, your girl needs you, is that so crazy to admit?

your fingers touch her from over the cotton of her underwear and its soaked to the point its useless, a cruel reminder of how you're in control suddenly and she's there to comply, be good: of course you'll put on a fucking show for her, and the phone in vi's hand shake for a minute forgetting to angle the camera to your face-- oh ffuuuck is that her on your cheeks? glossy transparent now smeared on your lips like new a lipstick shade.

its evident at this point, the small budge that makes your mouth water, the smell in the air that makes vi dizzy for a moment. the sight of your girlfriend in front of you would make anyone misbehave — starting from the face she makes while looking down at you with half-lidded eyes, even how her body reacts to your touch, unable to stay still since she's desperate to get more.

delicious.

"does it hurt?" you question leaving soft kisses against her naked thighs, not giving much time to answer as your tongue rests flat against vi's engorged clit, a simple touch that makes her muscles tense at the contact, automatically dragging her hips closer to your face so you can be closer, deeper between her legs.

it does hurt, but how can she answer? your saliva blends with her juices and your touch's so soft it burns on the exposed skin and shit-- you're taking your time in pleasing her cause there's no need to rush it, to go faster even when it's a fucking store and there's people trying on clothes no more than footsteps away.

isn't it more exciting? the shot of adrenaline, the vaccine of danger. your mouth feels warm, welcoming. your tongue flicks around her swollen clit and the touch makes vi rest her head in the wall her body lies against, erratic breathing and whispered words of love, sure she's suffering from some kind of fever dream, a classic midnight fantasy.

so her bad luck streak-- how was that? when the blood tastes like licking metal in her mouth and you're sucking on her g-spot, its harder to stay silent, hand shoved inside your own green lace, your girlfriend swears you follow the same fast rhythm on your own cunt cause you'll always be the insatiable rabbit, the tortuous monster who cannot get enough.

she's not aware of the video no longer, even when she keeps recording it in what should be a decent angle vi can see the moment you make her underwear to the side, hand that forces the cotton as the other one spread her pussy lips further apart just to make it easier to see, gather some saliva in your mouth until you spit and the contact is enough to have vi getting crazy.

"stay still," she'd do anything you say without questioning, dry mouth as your thumb pushes against her hole, "they will hear us vi, do you want us to stop?"

"mm--no, no-"

its hotter than-fucking-ever. mouth closing against her big clit,taking it all in. lips surrounding her button, pink bush sticking to your face. you use two fingers at first slowly sinking them into her cunt, and you do it so damn good, so fucking nice when you work her to take them entirely, knuckles in, fingers slightly curved so they can hit that delicious spot you know by memory, entirely yours.

bad luck.

bad luck.

bad luck.

awfully loud, painfully unaware of her own self, when vi cums her body shakes uncontrolled, a fever that's impossible to sweat out when she feels you everywhere, soft lips that kiss her folds, gentle tongue that licks up and down, fingers that keep her stuffed, you never ease yourself even when the high comes in waves that drag her to the center of the earth. red face that matches the pink of her hair, mouth that hangs open, you have her, right? she leans on you cause you will always have her.

soft skin, the dressing room's silent and you thank for how sensitive violet can be, how desperate she is to cum, how easy it turns to please her.

so when you get a dirty look from the workers in the shop ten minutes after? fuck them, she owe it to you right? from that time she masturbated in the bathrooms of that same shopping mall — dude.