never moved on from any hot woman ever

It wasn't like she was a jerk. In fact, she was quite the opposite. Always willing to lend a helping hand, to carry whatever shitty furniture up to someone's dorm, to buy far more alcohol than a small party needed just to make sure everyone had a good time. She was honestly too nice for her own good.

The reason people stay away is that Kate is awful at relationships. She tries, there's no denying that, but her attention span can't really handle being committed and her willingness to help other usually ends up being misconstrued as her trying to get into someone's pants. 

It's ridiculous, in your opinion. How does helping someone move their couch turn into being forced to make out with them? It makes no sense and yet, that's what Kate is known for. And you are known as being the one person who sees through her bullshit and can actually stand her. 

What no one knows is that you've been crushing on her for as long as you've known her.

It's cliché, there's no denying that, but it's the truth. Ever since she stumbled into the seat next to yours in a half-full lecture hall and asked for a piece of paper and a pen because she had somehow forgotten her backpack at the shooting range, you'd been smitten. The chaos she represented was somehow adorable to you and when after a few weeks of the same routine she asked if you wanted to join her for lunch, there was no going back.

That didn't mean you weren't cautious, though. Being friends with her was easy. You could joke about her terrible habits, playfully guilt-trip her into buying your coffee for a week, and help her whenever she landed herself in trouble because she was "giving eyes" to a girl with a boyfriend (even though she always rambled on and on about how she wasn't flirting, and it wasn't her fault the girl was totally into her). 

In a weird way, it had been easy to get used to it. To get used to her. 

And somehow, she had gotten used to you too.

It's why a couple of months into your developing friendship, you'd forced her to talk about her constant string of "situationships".

"So, are you a player or not?" You'd asked over the most obscenely sweet diner milkshake you've ever had. As if Kate's ADHD ass needed something to make her more hyper. "Because it kind of sounds like you are."

The speed at which she'd blushed bordered on superhuman. "What? No, I mean...not on purpose and not because I'm a jerk or anything. I guess I'm just not very good at the whole romance thing."

She looked so apologetic, you almost felt bad for laughing. Almost. It was ridiculous and sweet enough to convince you to stay friends with her even though you knew there was no world in which you didn't fall for her. Though maybe, you were more ridiculous for telling her as such.

"Well, don't take this the wrong way, but there is no way I'd ever date you."

"Okay, rude. I still have feelings."

"I'm just not looking to get my heartbroken like half of the girls you're friends with," you said with a shrug. "I'd rather not even try."  

"Yeah, that...that makes sense. I'm much better at the friend stuff."

If her smile faded for a few seconds, you didn't catch it. You just laughed it off and waved the waitress down to order some terribly greasy fries.

For a while, that was the end of it. The world kept turning, Kate kept going to her archery competitions with you on her arm, you kept sharing your notes when she inevitably slept through class, and you both ignored how thin the line between platonic and romantic got. Because it was easy. At least easier than having to compete with everyone else for her attention.

That was what you told yourself, anyway. It worked better than the alternative. Being Kate's friend and being heartbroken about that was better than actually getting your heart broken after pursuing a relationship that wasn't going to go anywhere. 

Unbeknownst to you, Kate had always had a completely different opinion on the matter.

"Kate Bishop, if you keep pacing, you will ruin my nice floor." Despite the light exasperation in the Russian's voice, its obvious she's more than used to it.

Yelena Belova had never been anyone's idea of a best friend until Kate stumbled into her life. Now, she was stuck with the archer and though she complained a lot, she really did love her.

The archer in question didn't even glance her way, choosing instead to keep pacing. "What am I supposed to do? I can't just tell her how I feel, I'll sound like an idiot."

"You are an idiot."

Yelena's comment is ignored again.

"But I can't not tell her, I mean, what if someone else tries to make a move on her? What if I'm too late and she finds someone more stable than me?"

"She most definitely will," Yelena mumbles to herself. "Kate Bishop, you do know worrying so much won't do anything, right?"

At that, Kate finally turns to look at her, a sheepish little smile on her face. "I just want to do this the right way. I want her to know how important she is, that it's not a game for me."

"Then perhaps begin with that, yes? Stop guessing, just uh...scream from the heart or whatever the expression is." 

"Speak from the heart?"

"Sure, that too."

Despite her nerves, the brunette actually laughs. There's no denying her predicament seems quite silly to anyone else, but she's thankful that Yelena's doing her best to be supportive. Even if she doesn't understand what the big deal is.

Maybe it's not a big deal, but it is to Kate. She's spent most of her life avoiding romantic relationships and for the first time in a long time, she actually wants to pursue someone. Not just someone. The one person who actually understands her. Hell, she understands her enough to know better than to try and get into a relationship with her. 

It could be easy to write off her feelings as simply wanting the one person who doesn't want her, but that's not what it is. She just wishes she had a way of explaining that without sticking her foot in her mouth like always. Then again, if you've stuck around so long, maybe you wouldn't find that super surprising.

What you do find surprising is the text you get at 1 PM on a Saturday that completely derails your plans for the day. Well, calling it one text is a bit of an understatement. It's more like a string of sentences that actually make up seven different messages. You just write back and pretend your heart doesn't do a little somersault when she replies with a heart emoji.

And just like that, you change your plans for the day in order to get ready and meet Kate at the same little diner twenty minutes from campus that you've been frequenting since you met. It's not much but in a weird way, it feels like something just for the two of you. The one place where no one judges, no one stares, and no one snickers when the two of you pretend you're not making each other blush.

After spending far longer than you should have debating what to wear, you finally make your way into the diner, your eyes instantly finding Kate's nervous frame, her foot tapping almost loud enough to hear from the front door.

"They're going to start charging you for the hole you're making on the floorboards," you tease as you approach the table.

Kate laughs in response, but the sound isn't quite convincing. "Ha, Yelena said the same thing earlier."

The mention of the Russian makes you pause slightly, her nervous behavior and seemingly urgent text quickly becoming suspicious. There's never been any indication that Yelena's interested in Kate the same way you (and half of campus) are, but with the way she's acting...maybe you had been wrong in your assumptions.

"So...what's going on? You sounded pretty desperate to see me."

Instead of making her laugh again, your words make her fidget with her fingers, her eyes seemingly wanting to look at anything but you. "Yeah, well, I just, you know I've been busy and we haven't had a chance to talk about...stuff and...and us, I mean not that there is an us, just you know-"

"Kate." You sigh and reach out to grab one of her hands before she decides to bolt. "What's going on? If something happened with you and Yelena, you can just tell me. You don't have to freak out about it."

Your response only seems to spike her nerves. "Yelena? What, no I don't, there's nothing happening over there. Why do you think there is?"

"Well, I don't know what I'm supposed to think. You've been driving yourself crazy going back and forth between New York and here, I guess I just thought you had another reason than just confidential Hawkeye stuff."

This time, she actually pauses. The space between you fills with enough silence that you're sure you can hear the cogs in her brain turning at superspeed. You expect the brief time-out will help her gather her thoughts enough to give you a coherent response but well, Kate will always be Kate.

"I'm in love with you," she blurts out. "I- I'm not an expert, really I don't know anything, but I know I've never felt anything like this before. And I know I'm awful at what comes next and I completely understand if you still want nothing to do with me, but I can't keep lying to both of us. I can't pretend I'm not going crazy trying to hide the truth from you."

For a second, you wait for the other shoe to drop. For her to say "never mind" or to actually run so she can avoid the aftermath or to remind you that she doesn't want a relationship.

Nothing happens, though.

Kate just waits. No jokes. No judgmental looks. Just raw patience and a half-bitten lip.

It seems time itself stops until you finally manage to find your voice again. "You're such an idiot."

If she wasn't expecting that response, she doesn't let it show. She just nods and intertwines your fingers. "Yeah, I know. I should've told you the truth sooner. I was worried you wouldn't hear me out."

"You really want to try?" You ask, an edge of insecurity creeping into your voice despite yourself. "You're serious?"

She nods, her shy little smile twisting something inside you. "Yeah. I want you, only you. If you'll have me."

The fact she's still doubtful shouldn't tug at you as much as it does. "I've always wanted you, Kate...even though you're terrible at this."

Almost as if she's trying to prove you wrong, she tugs at your hand, motioning for you to come sit next to her. Though you roll your eyes, you follow her suddenly needy command and slide in next to her.

You're rewarded with a massive grin and her arm sliding around your waist to pull you in closer. You're practically in the middle of the diner, during lunch rush with crowds of people coming in, and yet she still leans in and kisses you like nothing else matters.

Whether it was right or simply your gay imagination running wild yet again, you sent in your resume and applied for the gig, convinced it would amount to nothing in the future.

For whatever reason, the universe decided to prove you wrong just that one time.

Despite how insane it sounded on paper, the change was exactly what you needed. Wanda was incredibly generous with the pay and her twin sons were the cutest rascals you'd ever met. Handling two infant boys wasn't the easiest thing in the world, but the CEO had everything you needed on hand and the view from her penthouse more than made up for the early mornings and late nights.

Your friends constantly made fun of you for being at Wanda's beck and call every day, turning your devotion to your job to something incredibly inappropriate. As annoying as it was, their teasing wasn't completely baseless.

You weren't foolish enough to think something could genuinely happen between the two of you, though. It was fun to entertain the thought, even to flirt with the older woman once or twice, but you knew attempting to start something was idiotic.

Of course, like most things in life, it was easier said than done.

By now, you're used to getting calls from Wanda in the middle of the night. Not the kind of exciting calls that would make anyone lose their mind, but the ones that came from an overworked single mom who was trying to juggle a business empire and two over-active toddlers at the same time.

But, just because you're used to being needed at the weirdest hours of the night, doesn't make waking up in the middle of a sleep cycle any easier.

"Hello?" You mutter as you pick up, already knowing the older woman will take over the conversation for you and your half-asleep braincells.

Just as you thought, Wanda starts rambling on the other end of the line, and the slight panic in her voice is the kick in the face you need to fully wake up. You don't fully comprehend what she's saying, but your confusion doesn't stop you from rising to your feet and pulling on the first outfit you can find.

"Wands," you rush out. "I'll be right there."

The line goes silent for a moment before she speaks again, her tone changing instantly. She's still panicked that much is clear, but through it, you hear something else. Vulnerability.

And you wish you could say it doesn't affect you.

"You don't have to," she says softly. "It's…I shouldn't have called you, I'm sorry. You should be sleeping, not talking me off the ledge."

It's inappropriate, but you can't stop yourself from chuckling. "Hey, I know what I signed up for. If you need me, I'll be there. Anything for Billy and Tommy."

The sigh she lets out is filled with equal parts relief and weariness. "I'll send a car for you. Thank you again."

You barely hold in the urge to remind her she doesn't need to thank you, it's your job. Although, you're pretty sure leaving your rundown apartment in the middle of the night because your boss’ sons are sick and she's worried isn't a part of your job description.

Still, if she needs you there, you'll be there. For the twins and for her.

She doesn't need to know that last part, though.

You gather your things as quickly as you can, even giving your hair a quick brush to make you look a little more presentable. You finish up just in time to meet Wanda's driver outside who's kind enough to offer you a late-night snack.

Snacking helps keep your mind off your worried thoughts about the twins and their overworked mother. Two cute infants with a cold doesn't necessarily sound like a fun time, especially when their equally cute mom tends to overthink almost everything.

It's not like you can blame her, though. Her life is already stressful enough, the second either one of the twins show any signs of being sick, it messes up all her plans. Plans like the important business trip she's supposed to be leaving on tomorrow evening.

Thankfully, the driver pulls up to Wanda's building before you can allow your thoughts to continue. Clearly, her overthinking tendencies have been rubbing off on you. Not that you'd mind her rubbing on you, but that's a different story.

The journey up to her penthouse is quick given the fact that it's the middle of the night and the security at the front desk of the building know you well enough by now. Somehow, they must also know something's wrong, because there's no chit-chat like usual. That only makes the knot in your stomach grow tighter.

The elevator ride takes far too long for your liking, but thankfully, you manage to make it before you lose your mind.

"Thank you for coming," Wanda says as she rushes over to greet you. "I know it was last-minute, I didn't know who else to call."

It's hard to ignore the way your heart flutters in your chest. You know it's wrong to feel it. The glee, the pride, the undisputed affection that threatens to uproot your entire life just because you don't know how to be around the older woman without wanting to melt into her arms.

You're nothing to her and yet…you can't stop yourself from feeling like you're something important. The only person she feels truly comfortable around. The one place where she can be vulnerable without worrying it'll come back to bite her in the ass later.

It's impossible to think it's still all about the job. It can't be. Not anymore.

"It's really no problem, Wands," you answer. "I'm happy to help."

She shakes her head at you, hand already reaching out for you. "You're too sweet for your own good…but I'm grateful all the same."

This time, there's no way to stop the words before they slip out. "Anything for you."

Her response comes in the form of a smile that knocks the breath out of your chest. It's simple, but it's enough for you to follow after her like a devoted puppy (which truth be told, is exactly what you are most days).

Wanda leads you to the twins' bedroom without another word. You're not sure what you expect to find in there, but two grumpy looking infants in the same bed wasn't on the list. They must have been feeling incredibly lousy to prefer sharing a bed than using their own spaces. It would have been cute had they not looked so miserable.

Their sleepy eyes open as you approach and it takes everything in you to not coo at them. They have no business looking as adorable as they do. They're not your kids, not at all, and yet the way they look at you makes your heart squeeze in your chest all the same.

"I think it's way past your bedtimes, misters," you joke, hoping to lighten their mood.

All that earns you is a pair of groans and sniffles. "Not funny."

You stick your tongue out at Tommy, but cross the room in an instant. Even though you feel for them, their condition doesn't strike you as overly concerning. Kids get sick all the time, right? They should bounce back in no time.

Still, you sit down on the edge of the bed and entertain their string of complaints. They don't have too many, since feeling under the weather means they get to lounge around even more than usual. You're sure if you had Wanda running around taking care of you, you wouldn't have any complaints either.

You're not sure how long you spend entertaining them before Wanda joins you, her hand easily finding your shoulder. "I think it's time for bed, gentlemen."

As usual, Billy pouts while Tommy tries to get his mom to change her mind. You know better, though, so you start reaching out forward to securely tuck them into bed.

"But mom, that's not fair, y/n just got here."

"Mhmm, because you said only y/n would be able to tell if you had a fever or not," she responds, the smile on her face clear in her voice.

"Because you have warm hands!" Billy points out. It's the closest you've ever heard him come to arguing with Wanda. It really shouldn't be as adorable as it is.

"Okay, I'll check your temperatures with a kiss, how about that?" You suggest as you get to your feet.

Both boys try to be grumpy about it, but the smiles that pull at their lips spoil their attitude. They have no right to be as adorable as they are. Then again, they absolutely get it from their mom so it's not surprising.

You lean down to press a kiss to each of their foreheads. Their skin is definitely clammy and overheated, but you pretend not to notice. Hopefully a good night's rest will get their defenses back up. "Get some sleep, boys, you'll feel better in the morning."

"You'll be here, right? To check on us?" Billy asks with that soft little look he gets when he asks for something important to him. It makes the difference between the two boys noticeable enough to tug at your heart.

Even though you're not sure what the answer is, you still nod. "Of course. I'll be right here when you need me."

Your words seem to be what he's looking for because he leans back into his pillows with a smile on his face. Tommy's already half-asleep by the time you step back from them, allowing Wanda to finish putting them to bed. You try to not intrude on the moment, but the hand that wraps around your wrist keeps you close to her.

It shouldn't make your heart hurt as much as it does.

Once she makes sure the boys are actually asleep this time, she leads you out of their room and back into the living room. You both settle onto the couch without a word and your hands drift together until your fingers interlock. Though you want to break the silence, you don't want to ruin the atmosphere, or the slow release of tension from her shoulders.

"You must think I'm a mess," she murmurs, her voice so soft, you almost miss it. "Freaking out over a fever."

You squeeze her hand before responding. "I get it, it's not easy to see them feeling unwell."

"I thought it would be easier now that they're older…now that I have you…but it's not. And I just worry about them so much."

"Which is normal," you assure her. "You're not a mess for caring."

The sniffle you hear makes your head turn instantly. Wanda doesn't look at you, though, she leans back against the couch cushions as if she might dissapear. "I don't mean to be overbearing or intense, it's just…how I am. I want them to know how important they are to me. I don't want to make my parent's mistakes."

"You won't," you say without missing a beat. "They know you love them. They adore you, Wands."

Even though she doesn't reply, you know she hears you. You just hope your words are enough to soothe whatever worries sprouted up in her mind. You'd easily become a gardner if that would help her.

It seems she doesn't need anything, but for you to stay, which you'd gladly do, even if she didn't ask. But she does.

Not with words, it's never with words. Sometimes it's an arm around your shoulders, other times a simple hand on your thigh. Tonight, she takes a different route.

Your brain doesn't comprehend her movements until her face is inches from yours. Her hand is still in yours and you can practically feel how hard she's shaking from the weight of it all. "What about you?"

She's so close, you can practically feel her eyelashes flutter against your own cheeks. It should scare you. Maybe it does. All you can think about is how badly you want to kiss her. How badly you want to replace every dark thought she's ever had with nothing but affection. With the devotion you feel without wanting to.

"I want you," you whisper. "You have to know that. I'm awful at pretending."

That makes her smile. The corners of her eyes crinkle with amusement. "You really are. But you don't know how refreshing it is. I hate pretending too."

You want to ask what she means, but she doesn't give you a chance to question anything. She simply leans in and kisses you like she needs you to breathe.

You waste no time in kissing her back, your free hand moving to her waist and pulling her closer. It would be a lie to say you know what you’re doing and yet Wanda responds like she knows exactly what you’re saying. As if there’s some sort of unspoken code that links you to her.

In truth, it’s nothing except sighing mouths and eager hands.

But it’s enough.

According to her, you both needed to be spoiled after the time apart, and she let you know as much with a handwritten note next to the breakfast she'd left for you in the kitchen before she left for an early morning meeting.

To no one's surprise, her idea of spoiling you is, of course, taking you out to a fancy dinner to enjoy some time together. Time you're sure is going to be spent with her teasing you underneath the table. You could complain about it, but you love the thrill far too much for that. Something the older woman absolutely takes advantage of.

Lilia's complete confidence in herself is how you end up walking into her favorite Italian restaurant wearing a dress that's far too expensive for your liking and a tad too short. It had magically appeared in your shared closet in the morning, along with another note letting you know of the reservation she had made for the evening.

It didn't matter how many times she invited you out to that restaurant, or how many expensive items she gifted you, you still felt a knot of guilt in your stomach. You knew perfectly well what the tabloids would say the next day, what her co-stars whispered about you two behind her back. Just because you were used to it, didn't mean it didn't weigh on you sometimes.

Those thoughts, as annoyingly persistent as they could be, disappear into thin air the second you approach the older woman who sits like royalty at the most secluded table the staff were able to find. The smile that spreads along her face once her eyes land on you is more than worth the shit-talk that gets thrown your way simply for being with her.

"You made it, tesoro," she says, rising to her feet and offering you her hand. "You look divine."

Your face instantly heats up at the compliment. "Me? You look like a goddess."

Lilia simply smiles before pulling out your chair for you and helping you sit. She's always such a gentlewoman, it makes your heart flutter in ways you can't describe. It's a subtle reminder of how different she is from what people usually expect. While she might seem to demand the world of everyone, she's always eager to find a way to gift it to you.

You're not sure if you deserve it. What you are sure of is you can't argue with her when she looks at you with such warm eyes.

Her hand finds yours atop the table as you settle in, and she starts telling you about her day, going off about her incompetent directors in between sips of wine. Despite all her complaints, you know she likes working with them, if not, she would have never accepted their offer. Then again, you're not sure if she'd ever be able to turn down a leading role.

Some might call it an ego thing, and maybe it is, but she's devoted to her craft. You've never met someone who knows as much about the theater or acting as she does. That also means she's the most talented person ever, according to you.

Dinner continues in that way, Lilia even orders for you just to watch your flustered reaction, and the conversation flows just as easily as always. Even though you're content to listen to her talk, you fill her in on your day too, trying to calm your speeding heart. It's not like you can help it, the way she looks at you would be enough to drive any sane person insane.

For what it's worth, Lilia is an incredibly patient person. Patient enough to wait until you're halfway through your entrées to move on to the second part of her plan.

You almost don't notice.

You're in the middle of telling her a random story about your annoying neighbors when you feel her hand land on your leg. You assume it's her way of keeping you calm while your annoyance at the nosy people in your building grows. "And she had the audacity to bring up how often I'm out as if that's any of her business."

"As much as I agree that you should be independent, wouldn't it be easier if you moved in with me?" She asks, her fingers absentmindedly stroking the skin of your thighs.

"Yeah because your neighbors are less nosy," you joke, throwing in a good-natured eyeroll to seal your dramatic response.

"At least I have enough security to actually keep them out," she throws back at you with a defiant tilt of her chin.

You know she's right, but you're not ready to admit it just yet. "Brat."

Sometimes, she lets you get away with calling out her attitude. The thing you fail to realize at the moment, is that she usually only lets that happen when the two of you are home alone. Right now, you're out and despite how little the other patrons of the restaurant know about what's going on between you two, she has a role to play. A role that doesn't have space for your callouts.

"Is that any way to talk to me, little one?" Lilia asks, her voice hushed, but no less commanding.

The question has the intended effect on you. Your thighs attempt to squeeze shut and her fingers trail higher. Without even noticing, you've played right into her hand.

"No," you whisper, eyes dropping to her wine-stained lips before coming back up. "Sorry, mamma."

"You don't sound so sure, perhaps I ought to remind you of your place."

Considering your place is almost usually beneath her, you can't say you hate that plan. Mainly because you assume that means she'll call for the check as soon as possible and take you home.

Of course, the older woman isn't that predictable.

Instead of doing that, she simply scoots her chair closer to you, looking far too casual to the outside world. There's nothing casual about the way her fingers graze the lace of your panties, though.

She gives your thigh a firm tap, and you instantly comply, spreading your legs enough for her fingers to continue their path. "Look at you, so eager for my touch. Were you trying to get my attention so I could take care of this for you?"

If anything, that was her plan all along. You're eager to please her, though, so you nod anyway. "Please, mamma."

"Shhh, settle down, wouldn't want anyone to notice what we're doing, would you?"

Something in the way she says it tells you it's a trap, and yet you walk into it willingly. It's not like you can help it, your ruined underwear speaks for you. That or she truly can read minds.

You watch the way her face changes once she reaches the wet patch on your underwear. It's subtle, but not enough for you to not notice. You know that look too well, and you know you're in for it now.

"Dirty girl," she murmurs, lightly flicking your already sensitive clit through the soaked fabric of your panties. "You've made a mess. Do you like it when I play with you like this?"

She already knows the answer, of course, and yet you nod along anyway. It's difficult to keep your hips from shifting toward her, even if you're determined to not ruin the moment.

Easier said than done, though.

You must take too long to answer because she gives you a firm slap between your thighs, the sound lost in the bustle of the busy restaurant. The shock stops you from making a sound and your eyes dart around the room while Lilia merely laughs beneath her breath. Her composure isn't shaken as she reaches for her glass of wine with her free hand.

She looks far too casual for what she's doing, which somehow makes her look more attractive to you. "I didn't hear an answer, baby…"

"I like it," you rush out, attempting to sound more composed than you feel. "Please don't stop."

She hums in contemplation. "Well, now I don't know if you deserve it."

All you can do is groan. Even though you love playing her games with her, she's incredibly hard to keep up with. It's why you love her so much…even when she's being a pain in your ass. Or, well, a pain in your cunt might be more accurate.

It takes what little self-control you have to stop yourself from throwing your head back and looking as defeated as you feel. You force yourself to focus on coming up with a plan to get what you want. You could beg some more, but knowing Lilia, she'll simply keep laughing and ignore your requests until you're back home.

Considering how turned on you've been all day, waiting any longer isn't an option. At least not an option you want to truly consider.

While the older woman busies herself with waving down the waiter to request more wine and the dessert menu, you settle on a plan. One that could go horribly wrong. Which really just makes it more desirable.

The second the waiter leaves, you push yourself up on shaky legs and send her the most innocent look you can muster. "I'll be right back."

Her eyes narrow, and you know she's not fooled by your sweet tone. Still, she nods and allows you to walk off in search of the bathroom.

Your heart threatens to beat out of your chest as you step in and make a beeline for the first empty stall you find. You lean against the door, barely fighting the urge to just stick your hand in your underwear to finish the job. It would technically be easy, although dealing with the older woman's wrath later would be anything but.

Instead, you move onto the next phase of your plan. It requires you to swallow what little shame you still have clinging to you and pull your phone out. You force yourself to not think about it too much as you snap a picture up your dress and send it to Lilia. Of course, you also have to type out a teasing message that will only get you into more trouble.

You can only imagine the clench of her jaw as she sees the notification and your already ruined underwear only gets messier at the thought. It's no secret that you adore how soft the older woman is with you and that's exactly why breaking her rules is so enticing sometimes. Getting to see the fierce woman every Broadway director is so terrified of is incredibly exciting.

You're just about to break the most important rule and touch yourself when you hear the bathroom door open and slam shut. You don't even have time to doubt if it's her because she's instantly banging on the bathroom stall door.

It's impossible to hide your enthusiasm as you open the door for her. Your heart skips a beat at the sight of her darkened gaze, the soft brown you're so used to consumed by a darkness that speaks of her desires.

Lilia doesn't even give you a chance to be coy or bratty about what you've done. The second she locks the door, she grabs you by the hips and pushes you up against the door. The suddenness of her movements makes you gasp, your hips pushing back until her front is pressed against you.

"You think you're being cute, baby? Teasing mamma like that? When you know she's been thinking about having her way with you all dinner?"

You open your mouth to reply, but she doesn't give you a chance. Her free hand wraps around your mouth, holding you against her while her other hand slips under the skirt of your dress.

"No more talking, sweetheart, let mamma take what she wants now."

Her words alone almost make you cum.

Playtime is barely starting, though, and it's that thought alone that stops you from making a mess all over her hand. For the moment, anyway.

Lilia doesn't waste time with teasing any longer. Her fingers sneak past your underwear to flick your swollen clit before sliding into your wet folds. The sudden intrusion makes you gasp despite how ready you are for it.

"Look at you," she murmurs, two fingers fucking into you slow and deep. "Taking me so well. Is this why you decided to be a brat? So mamma could come fuck some sense into you?"

Truth be told, she's fucking all your sense out of you, but who are you to argue?

Your response comes out muffled which only makes her chuckle against your ear. Her pace is far too leisurely for your liking and your hips start moving back against her without you even noticing. Thankfully, Lilia allows the movement, no doubt loving the mess you're making of yourself.

As embarrassing as it is to admit, the pressure builds up far too fast for you to keep your orgasm at bay. You can't stop the way your body responds to her any more than you can stop yourself from loving her.

Though you try to warn her of your inability to hold yourself back, she doesn't let up. If anything, her fingers pick up speed, curling the tips just enough to make your legs shake.

"That's it," she whispers, ducking her head to press open-mouthed kisses onto your neck. "Soak my hand, baby, I know you want to."

Oh, you certainly want to.

Even if you didn't want to, your body would have responded to her regardless. Sometimes, it felt like it was under her control and not yours.

Just the way you like it.

Her hand over your mouth tightens its grips, barely muffling the whines that try to escape. Your cunt clenches around her fingers before your orgasm crashes headfirst into you. Your whole body shudders beneath her hands, and she barely manages to hold you up against the door.

"Good girl." Her voice is a mere whisper and yet you can feel it resonate through your whole body.

You're breathless and shaking and feeling absolutely incredible. Incredible enough to be pliant when Lilia's hand leaves your mouth to grasp your hip and turn you around. Her hand between your legs doesn't let up, though. Her thumb finds your clit and you swear you see stars when you blink.

"Mamma-" You gasp, back arching against the door as your hips shift every which way. At this point, you're not sure if you want her to stop or keep going.

"Come on, you can handle one more, can't you?" She asks, her eyes dancing with mirth.

Even though you're not sure you can, you nod, wanting nothing more than to please her.

Your obedience is rewarded with a kiss and your hands finally touch her body again. You cup her face in your hands, pulling her into you as her fingers drive into you. If you weren't so busy, you might have been self-concious about the wet noises coming from between your thighs.

"Fuck," you whimper against her mouth, any coherent thoughts having dripped down your legs a while ago.

"Feel good?" The question is more rhetorical than anything, but she looks pleased enough to help you look past it. "Show me how much."

Her thumb doesn't let up on your sensitive clit and your second orgasm sneaks up on you. Your thighs close around her hand as your release leaves you and drips down the inside of your thighs. The way Lilia stares down at you, panting and grinning, stops you from fully realising just how messy you are.

You practically collapse against her, your arms wrapping around her neck to stop yourself from toppling over. "Holy shit."

"I know, you did so good, sweet girl," she murmurs as her lips press against your temple. "Made mamma so proud."

"Thank you," you whisper and bury your face into the crook of her neck. "I don't think I can walk out of here, though."

Lilia laughs, the sound almost as sweet as the perfume that fills your nose. "Don't worry about that for now, just be here with me."