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Kate Katherine Lethbridge-Stewart stood in stark defiance of everything that had ever been defined for you; you thus revered her with something that could only be described as worship.

Every sharp glance from those brown eyes, framed by the dark rims of her glasses, kindled a sizzling, consuming fire within you—one you had long since stopped trying to extinguish, had only let spark and grow, feeding it with thoughts and lips wandering over freckled, ivory skin. Every step, every subtle shift of upright, poised posture beneath layers of tweed didn’t just draw your attention; it anchored it, it sank the teeth of longing into your concentration and ripped it apart like a wild, starving beast that wished to get its claws into the fabric and everything hidden beneath it. Your hands would still, then falter—whether folded in your lap or hovering above the keys of your typewriter—caught between the tightrope of discipline, respect and pure unadulterated desperation to touch.

Desire had never been a guiding force in your life before, had never stood against morals, and the carefully ordered dos and don’ts that had claimed you until your first day at the Unified National Insurance Team. 

You had tucked and fiddled with your clothes all the way to the Tower, wanting, no needing to make a first impression that wouldn’t give them any other chance than taking you on for their team. You had been prepared, had studied well for the interview and repeated the numbers rattling on in your head from the many nights you had poured over reports and annual statistics, and were sure that nothing could go wrong if you’d only focus.

Then you had all but stumbled into the warmth of another body, caught short by firm fingers closing around your upper arm, and heard the words that would linger long after, carried in a low, authoritative voice that settled over your skin like slow, clinging honey: “Someone ought to teach you some manners!”

It should have meant nothing more than a reprimand. 

And yet, in that instant, the future you had always been told was inevitable, singular, narrow, and uncompromising seemed to fracture and splinter into a million shards that only reflected wide-blown pupils and a quickened pulse. What you had believed to be a fixed path dissolved, reshaping itself into something altogether different: a straight, inevitable line that led not forward, but directly between her legs. 

Your lips feverishly moved over Kate’s calves, never lingering long enough to leave any marks that you longed to suck into the flexing, milky-smooth flesh. Her stockings hadn’t been on when you’d been called into Kate’s private office for a performance review, not the desk she shared with you all in the main room, where her stern, controlling gaze had driven you slowly but surely towards insanity all day, and so you could taste the hints of moisturiser on her skin. 

Even though you had never actively witnessed the act, you had more than once imagined the blonde stepping out of a hot shower, skin scrubbed clean and pinkish, and treating her body to the cream that softened her up; the idea of kneeling in front of her in her bathroom and letting your hands roam over every centimeter of her, from the soft curve of her stomach, to her breasts and spine, had spiralled into you moaning her name nearly every night into your pillow, imagining the fingers knuckle-deep inside you would be hers.

A tug on your hair pulled your head forward, fingers wrapped into the strands so it skirted the line of pain enough that you moaned against her right leg, panted with your mouth wide open and tasting lavender and honey. 

“I didn’t drag you away from your duties for you to squander my time!”

It was the first thing Kate said since the ‘I want you on your knees and using that clever mouth of yours for something other than gaping at me,’ that had commanded you towards the by now familiar floor beneath her heavy oak desk, your knees already spreading for her to pull her chair back in, closing you into the space that you wanted your name engraved in. Sometimes you considered it—scratching your fingernails into the underside of the desk until your initials marked the wood like you wanted to mark her. 

“Yes, ma’am,” you responded quickly, blinking up the long stretch of her legs to see her disapproving face look down at you. Only when you returned to pepper kisses upwards rather than focusing for longer, for you enjoyable eternities in one spot, did Kate’s arched eyebrow let down in its intensity.

“It’s Smith’s fault,” Kate muttered, her hand scratching the back of your neck absent-mindedly to the point of nearly making you purr. “Showing up at the last possible moment every single day—it has to be deliberate. As if time were something to be handed out for free!”

You only hummed in agreement—though you couldn’t care less about the man, as long as he got under Kate’s skin, you got into her knickers more frequently—and ran your tongue along the side of her knee and broadened it to follow the muscle of her thigh. Shuffling closer, your hands pushed more of the thick fabric of her skirt up her hips. Your eyes were glued to the white cotton underwear that already stuck to Kate’s core, the outline of her cunt clinging visibly to the see-through fabric, glistening with her arousal.

“It’s incredible how his doubts put our entire system at risk,” Kate groused on and lifted herself up enough for your fingers to hook into the seam of her panties and drag them down her legs. Her hand continued to trace circles into your neck, then, with a gentle but insistent pressure, she cupped the back of your head, guiding you forward with an almost imperceptible tilt. Get to it, she impatiently communicated. 

Kate would never let anyone see how much she hungered for you. It wasn’t the sort of thing a woman raised and frowned upon like her—scrutinized by society, shaped by its sharp judgments—would ever reveal openly. Desire, when it came to her was always hidden beneath her perfected mask of composure and authority, making it seem like she allowed you to indulge into your sinful wanting rather than admitting she wasn’t trembling for your touch, searching your eyes across the office. 

Your nose etched a path that your mouth followed forth across her inner thighs, traveling closer and closer to that scent of musk and long-accumulated slickness that you were salivating for. Shortly before her cunt and your head swimming further aware from the shores of reason and rationality, you opened your mouth, sucking on the flesh of her upper thigh. 

Above you, Kate groaned, her legs spreading wider and twitching at the same time. “Foolish girl,” she cursed out, one hand twisting in your hair, which only served to scrape your teeth over the mark that this kiss would no doubt leave, while her other slammed onto the table and ground against the top. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, hiding away a smug grin for that would have surely denied you any more. “Apologies, I couldn’t withstand,” you carried on, pressing your lips into the wet and warm skin again and again. 

The hand in your hair loosened and landed on your chin, forcing your head back with a force that nearly knocked you against the desk. Two fingers pinched your cheeks and yanked you forward and directly into her line of sight again.

Brown eyes bore into you from behind tortoise-shell glasses, a strictness in them that had you soak through your own underwear. Kate looked far from amused, her matte coloured lips curled into a thin line, the corners curved downwards, while her eyebrows were raised challengingly. If it wasn’t for the flush of pink sitting high on her sharp and elegant cheekbones and the hardened nipples poking against the white high collar shirt, you would’ve feared she’d pull you over her knee for this. 

“Are you having fun?” she asked and yet clearly expected no answer; the grip of her hand still kept your jaw from opening. The soft blonde strands of her fringe fell to the side as she tilted her head, scrutinising you. “I would have thought you would be capable of following orders by now,” she chided patronisingly and pressed her thumb further into the skin, fingernail catching your bottom lip. “Don’t tell me the way you dropped to the floor like a slut was misleading?”

Despite the pressure of her hand, you shook your head, trying to communicate the apology through the look in your eyes and the way you melted into her to let her guide, move, control you however she wanted.

Kate watched you for a moment longer before she finally let go and patted your cheek. “Very well,” she said and stroked an almost fond line from your cheek to the curve of your ear; the touch lingering and sparkling like stardust of a wishing star. 

God, how you burned for her.

The corners of her eyes crinkled, fine crow’s-feet and dimples showing the years she had spent hiding the little joys she got in life, lightening her entire expression for a sliver of time.

“What a good girl you are,” she murmured, and you eagerly dove forward until your nose brushed the wiry curls of her trimmed bush and your tongue could gather the first taste of her. A deep, throaty sound vibrated through Kate at the first contact, her shoulders immediately sacking against the back of her chair and the tweed blazer hanging from it, pushing her chest higher. “Yes,” she half-moaned, half-rasped, “such a good pet.”

The praise only motivated you to nose at her more, to bring two fingers up to stroke them through Kate’s folds as you lap and stroke your tongue, first in quick, short kitten-licks, then switching to longer, broader swirls. When you teased her clit with a finger and Kate practically gushed over your tongue, you looked at her once last time—at the blonde hair escaping her clawclip, the freckles on her in pleasure slackened face, and the lips that formed your name but spilled out petnames instead—and then you shut your eyes, focusing on drawing out Kate’s pleasure as long as she tolerated it.

It didn’t take long, especially not after you pushed one finger, then the other inside her, curling them and pressing your fingertips against her tight, clenching walls and hitting all the nerve endings that had her gasping for breath and holding onto the desk and your hair once more. 

You could read her better than any report currently waiting at your typewriter, knew more about the way Kate’s body curled into itself and stretched, long legs entrapping you and her back arching, the closer she hurled towards her orgasm, than any statistic or logistic over the business you worked in. It all didn’t matter when you tasted her fall apart on your tongue, felt her quiver around your fingers, the faster you drove them into Kate. 

“That’s it,” Kate moaned and furrowed her brows, hips chasing in rolling motions after the pleasure you gave her, your nose pressing hard against her clit at the movement. 

“Don’t stop– keep it right there, yes, good girl– just like that, darling.”

You kept your effort up, spread your fingers and sucked her clit into your mouth, and Kate’s thighs tensed around you.

She came almost silently, her mouth parting in a breath that caught in her chest, every muscle taut and frozen before the blonde finally slumped, exhaling in small, shaky pants. You rested your head against her leg, blinking up at her with adoration as her lashes fluttered, the even darker blush highlighting her freckles. Slowly, almost lazily, her hand returned to your hair, scratching through it in gentle, subdued circles—a quiet rhythm that anchored her as much as it did you.

“Good girl,” she repeated, words deliciously gravelly, and her finger grazed over the sensitive skin behind your ear. 

“I did well?” you asked and kissed the mark on her thigh tentatively.

She hummed deeply, a smile audibly in the sound. “So good,” she cooed, “Except for that little stunt, but I’m sure we can correct that the next time, don’t we, honey?”

Your smile blossomed against her skin and into the kisses that you couldn’t stop, your hands wandering over her skin to revel in being so close to her for now. 

And when a mug suddenly shattered on the floor beneath the desk beside you, and broke the post-orgasm haze that loosened the woman in front of you, Kate’s widened eyes locked onto yours, and for a heartbeat, you couldn’t tell which of you had allowed that flicker of doubt to slip into the world.