BelovasArcher

There wasn’t a word you could think of to describe how embarrassed you felt, watching the internet blown to smithereens over your sex tape. Somehow, between the crude sounds that leak from your speakers and Kate’s bated breath on the other end of the phone, you didn’t have anything to say.

“I was trying to send it to you.” She mumbles sheepishly and follows it up with a breathy, “Wrong button, I guess.” You can hear the hint of a chuckle buried in her tone and it only makes your eyebrows knit.

Your fingers probe frustratedly at your temples, “Kate, this is not fucking funny. The whole goddamn world has seen me naked, now.” You hiss, slumping into the satin sheets of your half-empty bed. The light of your phone is the only thing that illuminates the dark bedroom.

“Oh, please,” she can’t help but huff with a laugh, “there are magazine covers that did that long before this video got out.” You don’t bother to scold her, it’s hard to when she’s partially correct. “And, if it makes you feel better, I’m naked too.”

“It doesn’t.”

She laughs again, having fully prepared herself to take the blunt-end of your anger. “But you do look incredibly fucking sexy, babe.” Kate Bishop is nothing if not a sweet talker. The woman is a walking wet dream and she uses it to her own advantage, especially when it keeps her out of your wrath.

You remember the night she took the video, using some teenage-boy bullshit excuse about her ‘spank bank’ and those pleading brown eyes she always seemed to lure you in with. It was hard for you to say no to her, sitting stage-side and watching as she took apart her drum-set with the thick layer of sweat still coating her skin.

Both ends of the phone are silent for a moment, only the sound of the video continuing on remains and you can’t be bothered to stop it. “Kate?” You question exhaustedly without any of the anger-fueled energy you had before.

Besides the muffled video echoing from her own laptop, you can’t hear much from her end of the line. It’s only after a few beats that she speaks, “I miss your pussy.” It’s gentle, like an admission - too casual for something so filthy, you almost think you heard her wrong.

The rasp in her voice makes your stomach flutter, and if you weren’t so used to Kate being the way that she is, the admission might have caught you off guard. You almost forget to expel the breath trapped in your chest.

“Are you watching it?”

You want to be able to deny her the satisfaction of you enjoying the video after she’s leaked it to the world but you’d be lying to say your eyes hadn’t drifted to your phone screen.

You watch as she parts, reluctantly, from between your thighs and kisses a trail through the dip in your ribs until she can take a hardened nipple into her mouth. The makeshift pillow she’d created out of her jeans cradles your head as it lulls back in bliss.

“Kate,” You breathe, thighs tightening around nothing. “I need you so bad.”

“I know baby, I know.” She rasps, “Why don’t you touch yourself for me?”

You’re more than happy to oblige her. When you kick off the sheets, the thin cotton underwear goes with it. Your touch is light at first, teasing down your skin until your can delve two icy fingers between your soaked folds. You shudder, a soft sound underneath your breath.

“I bet that pretty pussy is so fucking wet for me. I can’t wait to make her purr when I get back.” You should know by now what it sounds like when she’s touching herself and she definitely is. “I’d love to just dip my fingers in that perfect fucking hole and hear you sing for it.”

Your fingers fail in comparison to Kate’s but, still, you hump them as if your life depends on it. The video still plays, you can hear the way she grunts and moans when she finally sinks the head of her strap into you. The harsh stage-lighting illuminates the sharp curve of her jaw as she dips it into the crook of your neck.

“You take me so fucking well, buttercup.” She repeats in time with her video self as if she knows it by heart - if you know anything about Kate’s sex drive, she probably has watched it enough to memorize. Her face screws up in pleasure, you watch, as the toy disappears inside you.

You can practically feel it now, every detail down to the thick veins that decorate its purple shaft. The moan that rips from your chest and out your open mouth is genuine, months of unattainable pleasure built up in your tensed muscles.

“Fuck.” She groans, rather loudly, “Do that again. Moan for me again, baby.” She sounds just as desperate as you must look.

You oblige her once more, a string of uncensored curses falling from your drying lips. You can hear her grunting, the sound of your wife pleasuring herself is nearly enough to send you over the edge on its own. The thumb against your clit helps, generous circles around the nerves that light your body on fire in the most delicious way.

“I just want to watch you cum.” She whines, spoiled as ever and entirely too desperate to care about how needy she might sound.

This was the side of Kate that you adored. Sure, it was fun to entertain the toughened-up rockstar projection of herself but you had fallen in love with the Kate that didn’t care what she looked like to other people or how strong her walls held up. It was sexy in a different way.

You manage a half-hearted laugh between moans, “So watch.” You quip, holding your eyes open enough to see the video that plays unending on your phone. “Watch how you make me cum, Katie.” You coo.

You know it’s the nickname that sends her over the edge and combining it in time with the visual of you falling apart underneath her had been your greatest play yet.

It’s not too different from your own experience. Seeing the way her hips sputter as she watches you cum warms the pit in your stomach. The sounds that bounce off the walls of the empty concert hall match the ones that echo from the other end of the phone and the whimpers that climb their way up your throat.

“Kate!” Her name unhitches from your throat and into the silent air. She listens, hearing the unabridged moans falling, one after the other, from your lips.

You don’t have to imagine kissing her then, you can see yourself spilling the sounds of your orgasm into her mouth as she tongues past your lips with her nails sunk into both sides of your sputtering hips. “That’s it, baby. So good for me, buttercup.” She eases you down slowly.

Kate pants on the other end of the phone, waiting with patience for your high to fade. “See what you do to me?” She questions, still out of breath.

You roll your eyes, “Get that video off the internet or I’m canceling my flight to come see you.” You warn, finally closing the tab and relishing in the blissful lack of noise.