Paige Bueckers had been best friends with Ryan Fudd since they were five years old. Fifteen years of brotherhood, of late-night talks and shared secrets, of being there through every high and low. Ryan was the brother she never had, the person who knew her better than anyone.

Which was exactly why she shouldn't have been fucking his little sister.

But here they were. Six weeks deep into the most dangerous thing Paige had ever done, and she couldn't bring herself to stop.

Azzi stood at the kitchen island, barefoot in cutoff shorts and an oversized UConn shirt that kept slipping off one shoulder, Paige's shirt, actually, the one she'd peeled off Azzi's body at four in the morning before sneaking back to Ryan's room. The late afternoon sun streamed through the window, catching the gold undertones in her brown skin as she reached up to grab a glass from the cabinet. The shirt rode up, exposing a strip of her stomach, and Paige didn't bother looking away this time.

She'd already memorized every inch of that skin. Had traced it with her fingers, her lips, her tongue.

"P, you want lemonade?" Ryan called from the living room, where he was setting up the PS5.

"Yeah, sure," Paige managed, her voice coming out rougher than intended.

Azzi turned, and their eyes met across the kitchen. Just for a second. Maybe two. But it was enough to make Paige's pulse kick up, enough to send heat pooling low in her stomach as she remembered exactly what Azzi had whispered in her ear last night when Ryan was asleep down the hall.

A slow smile curved Azzi's lips – the kind that said she was thinking about it too. She poured two glasses, then walked over to where Paige sat at the kitchen table, her movements unhurried and deliberate.

"Here," Azzi said softly, setting the glass down in front of Paige. Her fingers didn't just brush against Paige's shoulder – they lingered, traced a deliberate, but discrete path down her arm before pulling away. Close enough that Paige could smell her perfume – a perfect blend of warm and sweet, like vanilla and amber. The same scent that had been all over Paige's pillowcase this morning. "You look thirsty."

The double meaning wasn't lost on either of them.

Paige's jaw tightened, her hand coming up to wrap around Azzi's wrist before she could pull away completely. Just for a second. A gentle squeeze that said I know. Me too. Tonight.

Azzi's breath hitched, barely audible, but Paige caught it. She always caught it.

Then Azzi straightened up and headed back to the counter, but not before Paige caught the flush creeping up her neck – the same flush that bloomed across her chest when Paige's mouth was on her.

Fuck.

This had been going on for six weeks now. Ever since Azzi came back from her semester in Ireland and showed up at Paige's apartment at midnight, rain-soaked and done with pretending. Done with the years of almost-touches and loaded glances. Done with wanting from a distance.

"I'm tired of this," Azzi had said, water dripping from her curls onto Paige's doormat. "I'm tired of acting like I don't want you."

And Paige, who'd spent years convincing herself this could never happen, had pulled Azzi inside and kissed her against the closed door until neither of them could breathe.

They'd been careful. So fucking careful. Paige still slept on the futon in Ryan's room when she stayed over, still showed up for game night and pretended nothing had changed. Azzi still rolled her eyes at Paige's jokes, still called her an idiot when she found out she did something reckless at work.

But late at night, when Ryan's snores echoed down the hall, Paige would slip out of his room and into Azzi's. Would press her back against the door she'd just closed and let Azzi kiss her like she'd been starving for it all day. Would bury her face in Azzi's neck to muffle the sounds she made when Azzi's hands found their way beneath her shirt, her shorts, everything.

They'd learned each other's bodies in stolen hours. Learned what made Azzi gasp, what made Paige's legs shake. Learned how to be quiet, how to move together without making the bed creak, how to come apart in each other's arms without waking anyone.

It was reckless. It was wrong.

But God, Paige had never felt anything more right than Azzi's body against hers, Azzi's breath in her ear, Azzi's fingers tangled in her hair.

"Yo, P!" Ryan's voice cut through her thoughts. "You coming or what? I'm about to destroy you in 2K."

Paige stood, grateful for the distraction even as her body still hummed with want. "In your dreams, Fudd."

She walked into the living room, settling onto the couch next to Ryan. He handed her a controller, already talking trash about how he'd been practicing his three-point shot. Paige tried to focus on the game, on the familiar rhythm of their banter, but her attention kept drifting.

Azzi had moved to the armchair across from them, curling up with her phone. She wasn't doing anything obvious – just scrolling, occasionally sipping her lemonade – but Paige could feel her presence like a physical weight. Could feel the phantom touch of Azzi's hands on her skin from last night.

Ten minutes into the game, Paige's phone buzzed in her pocket.

She pulled it out casually, glancing at the screen.

Mama 💗: you're staring

Paige's lips twitched. She typed back quickly, keeping her eyes on the TV.

P 🤤💜: you're wearing my shirt

Mama 💗: i know

Mama 💗: you gonna do something about it?

Paige's fingers tightened on the controller. She risked a glance at Azzi, who was looking at her phone with an expression of pure innocence.

P 🤤💜: later. when he's asleep.

Mama 💗: that's hours from now

Mama 💗: i don't want to wait

"Dude, you good?" Ryan asked, pausing the game. "You just let me score like five times in a row."

"Yeah, I'm fine," Paige lied, shoving her phone back in her pocket. "Just tired. Long shift yesterday."

Ryan nodded, accepting the excuse easily. Because that was the thing about Ryan – he trusted Paige completely. Never questioned her. Never doubted her.

Which made this so much worse.

"Az, you gonna be home for dinner?" Ryan called over his shoulder.

"Nope," Azzi said, standing and stretching in a way that made Paige's mouth go dry. The shirt rode up again, and Paige knew Azzi was doing it on purpose. "I've got plans."

"Plans?" Ryan raised an eyebrow. "With who?"

Azzi's eyes flicked to Paige, just for a second, before she smiled at her brother. "Just some friends from work."

She grabbed her keys from the counter, slipped on her sandals. As she headed for the door, she passed behind the couch, and her hand trailed across Paige's shoulders – familiar, possessive, over in a heartbeat but burning like a brand.

But Paige felt it everywhere. Felt the promise in it.

"See you later, Ryan," Azzi said. Then, quieter, her lips close to Paige's ear as she leaned down, "Midnight. Don't make me wait."

The door closed behind her, and Paige released a breath she didn't know she'd been holding.

"She's been weird lately," Ryan said, unpausing the game. "I don't know, more secretive or something. You notice anything?"

Paige's heart hammered against her ribs. "Nah," she said, forcing her voice to stay level even as guilt twisted in her gut. "She seems fine to me."

Ryan shrugged, already focused back on the screen. "Yeah, you're probably right."

Paige picked up her controller, but her hands were shaking slightly. She stared at the TV without really seeing it, her mind already racing ahead to midnight. To Azzi's door opening in the dark. To the way Azzi would pull her inside and kiss her like she'd been thinking about nothing else all day.

This was dangerous. This was wrong. This was going to blow up in their faces eventually.

But God, Paige wanted her anyway. Wanted her so much it felt like drowning.

And the worst part? She didn't know how to stop. Didn't know if she even wanted to.

Her phone buzzed again.

Mama 💗: i'm already counting down the hours

Mama 💗: wear something easy to take off

Paige bit back a groan and shoved her phone deeper into her pocket, trying to focus on the game. Trying not to think about how Ryan was going to look at her when he found out.

Because he would find out. Eventually.

They were getting too comfortable, too careless. Too used to the weight of each other in the dark.

It was only a matter of time before someone noticed. Before Ryan woke up early and found Paige's side of the futon empty. Before he went looking for her and opened a door he shouldn't.

Paige knew it was coming.

She just didn't know when it would be.

🩵🤫🌙🩵🤫🌙🩵🤫🌙🩵🤫🌙🩵

12:47 AM

Paige waited until Ryan's breathing evened out into the deep rhythm of sleep before she moved. She'd been lying on the futon for what felt like hours, staring at the ceiling, counting down the minutes until it was safe.

Her phone lit up on the floor beside her.

Mama 💗: you coming or do i have to come get you

Paige's lips curved despite herself. She typed back quickly.

P 🤤💜: patience, baby

Mama 💗: i've been patient all day

Mama 💗: i need you

Heat pooled low in Paige's stomach. She slipped out from under the blanket, moving slowly, carefully. The futon didn't creak – she'd learned exactly how to get up without making a sound weeks ago.

Ryan didn't stir.

Paige padded across the room in just her sports bra and sleep shorts, easing the door open inch by inch. The hallway was dark and quiet, the house settled into that deep stillness that only came in the middle of the night.

Azzi's door was cracked open, waiting.

Paige slipped inside and closed it behind her with a soft click.

The room was dim, lit only by the glow of Azzi's bedside lamp turned low. And there she was – sitting up in bed with the sheets pooled around her waist, wearing nothing but one of Paige's old UConn shirts that hung off one shoulder.

"Took you long enough," Azzi said, voice low and teasing.

Paige crossed the room in three strides. "You're impatient."

"You're slow."

"I had to wait for him to fall asleep – "

Azzi reached up and pulled Paige down by the waistband of her shorts, cutting off whatever excuse she was about to make. Their mouths met in a kiss that was all heat and hunger, six weeks of familiarity making it easy to fall into each other.

Paige's hands found Azzi's waist beneath the shirt, fingers splaying across warm skin. Azzi's hands were already working at the clasp of Paige's bra, impatient and sure.

"Missed you," Azzi breathed against her mouth.

"I was literally in the next room."

"Still too far." She pouted.

Paige laughed softly, but it died in her throat when Azzi's hands slid up her sides, taking the bra with them. Cool air hit her skin for just a second before Azzi's mouth was on her neck, her collarbone, lower.

"Fuck," Paige whispered, her fingers tangling in Azzi's curls.

Azzi pulled back just enough to look at her, eyes dark and wanting. "Get up here."

Paige didn't need to be told twice. She climbed onto the bed, straddling Azzi's lap, and kissed her again – deeper this time, slower. Azzi's hands roamed her back, her sides, everywhere, like she was trying to memorize the feel of her.

"You're wearing too much," Paige murmured against Azzi's lips.

"So do something about it."

Paige pulled the shirt over Azzi's head in one smooth motion, tossing it somewhere across the room. Then it was just skin on skin, the way they both liked it best.

Azzi's hands slid down to Paige's hips, guiding her movements as they found their rhythm. "God, you feel so good."

"Yeah?" Paige's voice was rough, breathless.

"Always." Azzi's mouth found the hollow of her throat, teeth grazing lightly. "You always feel perfect."

Paige's hips rolled forward, and Azzi gasped, her grip tightening. They moved together like they'd done this a thousand times – because they had. Six weeks of stolen nights had taught them exactly how to make each other fall apart.

"Lie back," Paige whispered.

Azzi did, sinking into the pillows, and Paige followed her down. She kissed her way down Azzi's body – her neck, her chest, the soft curve of her stomach – taking her time even though they both knew they didn't have much of it.

"Paige," Azzi breathed, her hands finding Paige's hair. "Please."

"I've got you, baby."

And she did. She knew exactly what Azzi needed, exactly how to touch her, exactly where to put her mouth to make Azzi's back arch off the bed. She knew the sounds Azzi made when she was close, the way her thighs trembled, the way her fingers tightened in Paige's hair.

"Don't stop," Azzi gasped. "Please don't – "

Paige didn't. She kept going, kept working her with her mouth and her fingers until Azzi came apart beneath her, biting down on her own hand to muffle the sounds she made.

Paige kissed her way back up Azzi's body, settling beside her as Azzi caught her breath.

"Will you let me?" Azzi questioned, voice still shaky.

"You don't have to – "

"I want to." Azzi rolled on top of her, pinning Paige's wrists above her head with one hand. "I always want to."

And God, Paige loved this – loved the way Azzi took control, loved the confidence in her touch, loved the way she looked at Paige like she was the only thing that mattered.

Azzi's free hand slid down Paige's body, slipping beneath the waistband of her shorts. Paige's hips lifted instinctively, and Azzi smiled against her mouth.

"So eager," Azzi teased.

"Shut up and touch me."

"Say please."

"Azzi – "

"Say it."

"Please," Paige breathed. "Please, baby."

Azzi's fingers found her, and Paige's eyes fluttered closed. She was already so worked up from getting Azzi off that it didn't take long. Azzi knew exactly what she was doing, knew exactly how to make Paige lose her mind.

"Look at me," Azzi whispered.

Paige forced her eyes open, meeting Azzi's gaze. There was something in it – something deeper than just desire. Something that made Paige's chest tighten.

"I love you," Azzi said softly, her fingers still moving. "I'm in love with you, Paige."

Paige's breath caught. They'd never said it before. Not like this. Not out loud.

"Az – "

"You don't have to say it back," Azzi continued, her voice steady even as her hand kept working. "I just needed you to know."

But Paige did say it back. Because it was true. Because she'd been feeling it for weeks and hadn't known how to put it into words.

"I love you too," she gasped. "God, Azzi, I love you so much."

Azzi kissed her then, deep and consuming, and Paige came undone in her arms, biting down on Azzi's shoulder to keep from crying out.

They lay tangled together afterward, hearts still racing, skin still flushed. Azzi's head rested on Paige's chest, her hand tracing lazy patterns on Paige's stomach.

"Stay," Azzi whispered after a while. "Don't go back."

Paige's hand stilled in Azzi's hair. "You know I can't."

"Please." Azzi's voice was small, almost pleading. "Just this once. Stay with me."

Paige wanted to. God, she wanted to so badly it hurt. But she couldn't. Not with Ryan right down the hall.

"Baby – "

"I know," Azzi said, but she didn't let go. "I know. I just... I hate watching you leave."

Paige pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "I hate leaving."

They didn't check the time. Didn't set an alarm. Didn't do any of the careful calculations that had kept them safe for six weeks. Instead, they just stayed like that – Paige's hand still splayed across Azzi's chest, feeling her heartbeat slow and steady beneath her palm. Azzi's arms wrapped around her, holding her close like she could keep her there just by holding tight enough.

The room was quiet except for their breathing, gradually evening out as exhaustion pulled them under. There was a peace in it – in the vulnerability of falling asleep tangled together, in the domesticity of it. No sneaking around. No checking over their shoulders. Just them, wrapped up in each other in the dark.

Azzi's grip loosened as sleep took her first, her breathing deepening. Paige followed not long after, her head tucked into the curve of Azzi's neck, her hand still on her chest. Even in sleep, they gravitated toward each other, seeking each other out like it was the most natural thing in the world.

They knew they were safe in this moment. But they weren't.

🩵🤫🌙🩵🤫🌙🩵🤫🌙🩵🤫🌙🩵

Ryan woke to pale morning light filtering through his blinds. The kind of early that felt wrong – too quiet, too still. His phone read 6:47 AM.

He rolled over, squinting across the room at the futon where Paige always crashed when she stayed over.

Empty.

The blanket was thrown back, pillow still dented from where her head had been. But no Paige.

Ryan sat up, rubbing sleep from his eyes. Maybe she'd gotten up early for a run. Maybe she couldn't sleep and went to make coffee. Maybe –

But something felt off. The house was too quiet. No shower running. No coffee maker gurgling downstairs. No sound of Paige's voice on the phone with her mom like she sometimes did in the mornings.

He swung his legs out of bed, padding barefoot into the hallway.

"P?" he called softly, not wanting to wake his parents if Paige was just in the bathroom.

No answer.

He checked the bathroom. Empty. Checked downstairs. Nothing. Her truck was still in the driveway when he glanced out the window, so she hadn't left.

That left one place.

Ryan's feet carried him down the hall before his brain could catch up. Azzi's door was at the end, slightly ajar. He'd knock, ask if she'd seen Paige, and –

He pushed the door open quietly.

And froze.

The morning light spilled across Azzi's bed in soft gold, illuminating two bodies tangled together beneath white sheets.

Azzi was on her back, one arm thrown above her head, dark curls spilling across the pillow. Her face was peaceful in sleep, lips slightly parted, the rise and fall of her breathing slow and even.

And Paige –

Paige was draped across her. Completely. Her blonde hair fanned across Azzi's bare shoulder and chest, her face pressed into the curve of Azzi's neck like she belonged there. Like she'd done it a thousand times before. One of Paige's arms was wrapped around Azzi's waist, holding her close even in sleep.

But it was Paige's other hand that made Ryan's stomach drop.

It rested on Azzi's breast. Cupping it. Possessive and intimate and so fucking comfortable it made his chest tighten with something he couldn't name.

The sheet had slipped down just enough to expose Azzi's collarbone – where that hickey bloomed purple, evidence of Paige's mouth – but covered the rest. Still, Ryan could see the outline of Paige's hand beneath the thin cotton fabric, the shape of it possessive and deliberate against Azzi's breast. Could see the way their legs were tangled together beneath the covers. Could see, with absolute clarity, that they were completely naked under those sheets.

They were naked.

They were naked in his sister's bed.

Together.

Ryan's brain stuttered, trying to process what he was seeing. Trying to make it make sense. But it didn't. It couldn't.

This was Paige. His best friend since they were seven. The person he trusted more than anyone. The person who knew everything about him, who'd been there through every breakup and loss and victory.

And Azzi. His little sister. The person he was supposed to protect. The person he'd warned every guy away from because none of them were good enough.

But this?

This wasn't some random hookup. This wasn't a drunken mistake or a moment of weakness.

The way they were wrapped around each other, the way Paige's hand rested on Azzi's body like it was the most natural thing in the world, the way they fit together like puzzle pieces –

This had been happening for a while.

How long? Weeks? Months?

How many times had Paige looked him in the eye and lied? How many times had Azzi smiled at him over dinner while hiding this?

Ryan's hands clenched into fists at his sides. His jaw tightened. Heat crawled up his neck, a mix of betrayal and anger and something that felt uncomfortably close to hurt.

He should leave. Should close the door and walk away and pretend he never saw this. Should give them a chance to explain before he –

But he couldn't move. Couldn't look away.

Azzi stirred slightly, her hand coming up to rest over Paige's where it cupped her breast. Even in sleep, she held Paige closer. Even in sleep, they gravitated toward each other.

And that – that was what broke something in Ryan's chest.

Because he knew that kind of touch. That kind of comfort. That wasn't just sex. That was intimacy. That was trust and familiarity and something deeper than he wanted to think about.

"What the fuck is going on?"

The words came out rougher than he intended, louder than he meant. But he couldn't stop them.

Paige's eyes flew open first, blue and wide and still hazy with sleep. For a split second, she looked confused – like she'd forgotten where she was, forgotten what she was doing.

Then her gaze landed on Ryan standing in the doorway.

And the color drained from her face.

"What do you mean?"

It's the fourth day of their "sex ban." There are two more days off until game day, then the day after, the two are going to have what Paige's been referring to (in her head) as the "sexplosion."

Classy.

But her will to wait has been running increasingly thin.

"Um," Paige starts, scratching her neck. She's never really talked to chase about Azzi and their personal life, let alone their sex life. But Chase is kind of her only option to have this conversation with—he's really the only person far enough removed from Azzi to do so.

"Well, its kind of embarrassing, but we have this rule. I mean, I have this rule." She coughs in to her fist then stuffs both hands into her pockets. "It's about sex."

His fumbles with the ball on the next pass while his eyes widen. "Damn, okay." He laughs. He laughs, and it's definitely awkward, which is making Paige already regret this conversation. But what other choice does she have? "So what's this rule?" He asks.

She catches the fumbled pass easily and places it on her hip. "I probably shouldn't even be telling you this, but I've just ran in to a wall here. Like, I don't really know what to think."

She squares up and shoots; it clangs off the rim, and Chase runs after it.

"So, like, my rule—and I've had it for a while, mind you—is no sex on the nights before or on game day. We've been following it since UConn. But lately she's been tryna get me to break it"

Paige hasn't looked up from the ground since her miss. She's too embarrassed.

"And we kinda did?" She says, "I don't know. It was a whole thing." She moves the ball to the other hip, eyes still firmly planted on the asphalt. "But then the night after, she said we shouldn't have sex for a week. That we should wait until after the game against New York. But, it's just…things have gotten weird."

She finally spares a glance at Chase. His face is blank except for the slight upward turn of his lip. She can't tell if he's amused at the sex-ban or that she's talking to him about this.

"Okay, so your girlfriend put you on a sex ban because she's mad at you?" he asks. "I'm confused."

Paige shakes her had, then dribbles the ball a few times before shooting it again. She's trying to break the tension she's feeling. It clangs off the rim again.

She's on edge. Either from this conversation or from being sexually frustrated. Who knows? She figures to things can be true at once. People contain multitudes.

"No, I don't think she's mad. That's not how she put it."

He throws the ball back to her. "Okay, then what? You said she's acting weird and that she put you on this ban. Explain, bro."

"I'm trying!" she protests. "Bro, she said, "let's just spend this week together, focus on us." Told me we'll be so locked in for the game." She shoots again, making it this time. "Which is like the whole point of the rule, mind you. But she's been doing shit that is so contradictory, like it's almost as if she's trying to get me riled up."

Chase stops running after the ball, which has landed in the grass. Then he laughs. He fucking laughs.

"Dude, why are you laughing? I was just like vulnerable with you and shit," she grumbles.

"No, sorry," he apologizes between laughter, "it's just, I think she's playing you, P."

"What?"

Chase grabs their water before responding, tossing one to Paige. He takes a big gulp before explaining. "You said you almost broke the rule a few days ago, right? That she's always hated the rule?"

Paige nods.

"Now she's saying to take the rule to another level even though she literally hates the rule?"

Paige nods again.

"Now she's trying to like seduce you or something?"

Paige nods for a third time.

He takes another long sip of his water. Actually, it might be Gatorade. His lips are blue. "Well, seems to me like she's got a plan. One that you're not in on."

"I coulda told you that!"

"I wasn't done," he says, holding his hand up. "I was gonna say that I think she's tryna make you break."

"Break? Like get me to have sex with her?" He nods. "Why would she suggest the break then?"

He shrugs. "Maybe she's tryna get you to give in at the end of the week. You know, right before the game?"

"Oh my god," Paige says, realization finally dawning on her, "she's trying to get me to break my rule. She's actually insane."

Paige had noticed it on Monday. The change in Azzi. It was subtle, at first—shorter answers, more time in the gym. 

But by Wednesday, everyone had noticed. 

Azzi’s typical sunny disposition had been replaced with a distant and cold demeanor. She didn’t laugh at any of Paige’s corny jokes; she brushed off any questions about her well-being, and she even snapped at Zaza (she later apologized, but it was still so unlike her).

Paige watched another one of Azzi's jumpers clang off the back of the rim before kicking hard to the side.

Clang.

It was the fourth—or maybe the fifth—in a row.

She didn't need the misses to know something was wrong.

She saw it in the way Azzi's shoulders crept higher with every possession until they were nearly brushing her ears. In the way her jaw tightened after each shot, lips pressed into a thin line. In the sharp furrow between her brows that never quite relaxed before she was sprinting back down the floor again.

The rhythm that usually defined her game was gone.

She was a step late rotating on defense, arriving just after the pass instead of anticipating it. On offense, the confidence that normally made every catch a scoring threat had vanished. She hesitated, passed up open looks, and when she did shoot, every release seemed just slightly rushed—too much wrist, not enough legs, as though she was trying to force the ball through the hoop by sheer determination alone.

Frustration rolled off her in waves.

The coaches noticed. Their teammates noticed.

Paige noticed first.

Another miss.

The ball rattled around the rim for a hopeful second before spilling out.

Azzi caught the rebound herself with more force than necessary, muttered something under her breath, and fired another shot before anyone could say a word.

Miss.

Paige sighed quietly through her nose.

As the whistle finally sounded to rotate drills, their paths crossed near the free-throw line. Paige slowed just enough to catch Azzi's eye, lifting a brow in silent question.

You good?

For a split second, it looked like Azzi might answer.

Instead, her gaze slid right past Paige as if she hadn't seen her at all.

She brushed by with a clipped "Excuse me," grabbed her water bottle from the sideline, and took a long drink without looking back.

Paige watched her go, lips pressing into a thin line.

Yeah.

There it was.

And so it began.

Practice wrapped nearly forty minutes later, teammates filtering toward the locker room in loud clusters, already making plans for lunch or afternoon classes.

Azzi wasn't among them.

Paige wasn't surprised.

She watched from the doorway as everyone else drifted out of the gym until only the squeak of a single pair of shoes and the steady thump of a basketball remained.

One shot.

Another.

Another.

Each make was met with another attempt. Each miss earned two more.

Azzi had always been stubborn.

When something in her game felt off, she didn't rest until she'd fixed it—or until someone physically dragged her out of the gym.

Paige had seen this routine enough times to know how it ended.

Usually with sore legs, blistered hands, and a very grumpy Azzi insisting she was "almost there."

She leaned against the doorframe for a moment, watching another jumper hit the front rim and bounce away.

Still chasing it.

Still angry.

Still refusing to quit.

Paige lingered by the doorway, gym bag hanging loosely from one shoulder.

She hesitated.

Every instinct told her to walk over, crack a joke, maybe steal the ball and force a smile out of Azzi. Normally that would've worked. Azzi wasn't one to stay in a bad mood for long, especially when Paige was determined to drag her out of it.

But this wasn't normal.

There was a difference between frustrated and closed off.

Today, Azzi had built walls with every missed shot, every clipped response, every moment she'd deliberately looked anywhere but at Paige. She wasn't looking for comfort. She was looking for space.

Paige knew better than to mistake one for the other.

If she went over now, Azzi would brush her off with an "I'm fine" or a tight smile that didn't reach her eyes. Maybe she'd insist she just needed more shots up. Maybe she'd get irritated that Paige had noticed at all.

Either way, the conversation wouldn't go anywhere.

Sometimes the best thing she could do for her teammate was let her work through it in her own way.

So, after one last glance toward the court, Paige adjusted the strap on her bag and headed for the locker room.

She only made it halfway down the hall before stopping.

"...Damn it."

She let out an exasperated sigh, shaking her head with a small, knowing smile.

She wasn't worried that Azzi would stay late.

She was worried she'd stay until she couldn't lift her arms anymore.

But Paige decided to let it go.

Pushing Azzi now would only earn her a half-hearted "I'm fine" and a conversation that ended before it really began. Whatever was eating at her, she'd deal with it on her own terms.

Besides...

She'd see her at home.

With one last glance toward the nearly empty gym, Paige slung her bag over her shoulder and headed out.

The apartment was quiet when she got back.

She kicked off her shoes by the door, tossed her duffel onto the dining chair, and headed straight for the shower. The hot water washed away the sweat and ache from practice, but it did little to quiet the nagging feeling in the back of her mind.

Azzi had been off.

Not just missing shots—off.

By the time Paige emerged from the bathroom, steam still clinging to her skin, she'd changed into a pair of faded gray UConn sweats and a fitted black tank.

She glanced down at the sweatpants and huffed a laugh.

At this point, she honestly couldn't remember whose they were.

Sometime over the last year, her clothes had become Azzi's clothes, Azzi's hoodies had become hers, and the distinction had quietly disappeared. Laundry days were less about ownership and more about whichever pile happened to be clean.

Not that either of them seemed to mind.

She gathered her damp hair into a low bun, settled onto the couch with one leg tucked beneath her, and let the TV drone quietly in the background without really watching it.

Every so often, her eyes flicked toward the clock.

Then to the front door.

Then back again.

Azzi was taking longer than usual.

Which wasn't exactly surprising.

If she'd stayed to get extra shots up, she'd probably keep going until the managers kicked her out or the lights shut off around her.

Paige sighed softly, reaching for the remote only to set it back down a second later.

She couldn't shake the feeling that whatever had happened today wasn't something a few hundred extra jumpers were going to fix.

So she waited.

When she finally heard the familiar rattle of keys outside the apartment door, Paige muted the television without thinking.

Her gaze lifted as the lock clicked open.

The apartment door swung open with a familiar click.

Azzi stepped inside, looking noticeably lighter than she'd been when practice ended.

The sharp edge she'd carried around the gym had dulled. Her shoulders weren't wound quite so tight anymore, and the scowl that had lived on her face all afternoon had softened into something more neutral.

She looked... calmer.

But not okay.

Paige had known Azzi long enough to recognize the difference.

The tension hadn't disappeared—it had simply sunk beneath the surface, hidden behind a carefully composed expression. It lingered in the slight hesitation before she closed the door, in the absent way she slipped off her shoes, in how her eyes seemed fixed on nothing in particular.

Something was still bothering her.

Her hair was still damp, dark curls clinging to the back of her neck and temples.

Paige's brow lifted almost imperceptibly.

She'd showered at the gym.

That, more than anything, told Paige just how long she'd stayed.

Azzi almost always preferred showering at the apartment. She'd complained more than once about the locker room water pressure, and she swore the soap dispensers never had enough shampoo. If she'd showered there instead of waiting until she got home, she'd probably stayed until the facilities were nearly empty.

Long enough that coming home sweaty hadn't even been worth it.

Her gaze drifted briefly to Azzi's hands.

No basketball.

So she'd finally called it.

Whether she'd found what she'd been chasing in those extra reps was another question entirely.

"Hey," Paige said softly from the couch.

Azzi looked up, blinking as though she'd only just realized Paige was there.

"...Hey."

It came with the ghost of a smile.

Small.

Tired.

Real enough to reassure Paige she hadn't been completely shut out anymore, but fragile enough that she knew better than to push.

Paige shifted against the couch, untucking the leg beneath her as she wordlessly opened up the space beside her.

An invitation.

Nothing more.

Nothing less.

It was as natural as breathing now.

They'd long since grown past the need to ask, Can I sit with you? or Do you want company?

The answer was always there.

There was always room beside the other.

It was simply... them.

No grand gestures. No awkward attempts to pry feelings loose before the other was ready. Just quiet, steady presence.

Sometimes Azzi would take the offered spot immediately, collapsing into the cushions with a dramatic groan after practice. Sometimes she'd steal Paige's blanket without asking, claiming it as her own until Paige inevitably tugged half of it back. Other nights they'd sit shoulder to shoulder for hours, watching whatever happened to be on TV while barely exchanging ten words.

Neither of them minded the silence.

They'd learned a long time ago that silence wasn't the absence of conversation.

It was its own language.

A shoulder brushing another.

A shared blanket.

An offered seat.

A hand absentmindedly nudging a bowl of popcorn into the other's reach.

Little things that quietly said, I'm here.

Paige made the space without looking directly at Azzi, pretending to be interested in whatever sitcom was playing on the muted television.

The invitation was there if Azzi wanted it.

No pressure.

No expectations.

Just home.

Paige shifted slightly as Azzi approached, making the smallest adjustment to the blanket draped over her legs.

A silent invitation.

Azzi noticed.

She always did.

Her steps slowed for just a moment before she crossed the room and lowered herself onto the couch beside Paige. The cushions dipped beneath her weight, their shoulders brushing as she settled in.

Paige's fingers brushed lightly against Azzi's shoulder in the process—a fleeting touch, barely there.

But familiar.

Grounding.

A quiet I'm here.

She didn't grab her. Didn't pull her closer. Didn't ask what was wrong.

She just let her hand linger for a second before returning it to her own lap, giving Azzi the choice to close the distance if she wanted to.

That was how they were.

They had never needed big declarations or perfectly timed conversations to understand each other. They knew the language of small things.

A glance across the court.

A hand reaching out without asking.

Sitting in the same room when words felt too heavy.

Azzi leaned back into the couch, her shoulders finally lowering a fraction. The exhaustion from the day seemed to catch up with her all at once now that she was somewhere safe.

Paige noticed.

Of course she did.

But she didn't say anything.

She simply stayed.

The television played quietly in the background, filling the silence between them. The kind of silence that wasn't uncomfortable. The kind that meant neither of them had to perform or pretend.

For a while, they just existed there.

Two people who knew that sometimes comfort wasn't found in answers.

Sometimes it was just knowing someone would sit beside you while you figured things out.

"Is this Grey's?"

The question was casual.

Almost too casual.

But Paige knew better.

It wasn't really about the show.

It was an olive branch.

A tiny offering of I'm here. I'm okay. I'm ready.

Paige glanced over, unable to stop the small smile that tugged at her lips.

"Yup," she replied, looking back at the television. "They're airing reruns before the new season comes out."

Azzi stared at the screen for a moment, watching a familiar hospital hallway flash by.

Then she scoffed.

"They've blown up that hospital three times," she said, shaking her head. "Who's even left to treat patients?"

The laugh that burst out of Paige was immediate and loud.

The kind that filled the room and made Azzi's lips twitch despite herself.

"Hey," Paige protested, turning toward her. "Don't do Meredith like that."

Azzi raised an eyebrow.

Paige gestured toward the television with complete seriousness.

"If there's a Grey, there's a way."

For a second, Azzi just stared at her.

Then the smallest smile broke through.

A real one.

Not the polite, practiced expression she'd worn since practice. Not the one meant to convince everyone she was fine.

This one reached her eyes.

And just like that, the ice cracked.

The tension that had followed her home—the missed shots, the frustration, the weight she'd carried around all day—didn't disappear completely.

But it loosened.

Because that was them.

Paige never needed to force Azzi to talk. She never needed to drag the feelings out of her before she was ready.

Sometimes all it took was a terrible medical drama, a ridiculous joke, and the reminder that she didn't have to carry everything alone.

Azzi settled deeper into the couch, shoulder brushing against Paige's again.

And this time, she didn't move away.

There was a long pause.

Long enough that Paige wondered if Azzi was going to answer at all.

She didn't push.

She just waited, watching the younger girl from the corner of her eye as she picked at a loose thread on her sweats. The confident player who could step onto any court and command attention seemed impossibly far away in that moment.

Then—

"We were so close to winning last year..."

Azzi's voice was quiet.

Almost too quiet.

Paige's expression softened.

Azzi kept her eyes fixed on her lap.

"But I choked."

The words came out like they had been sitting there, heavy and untouched, for a long time.

"I let everyone down."

Paige felt something twist in her chest.

Because she knew Azzi.

She knew the way she carried expectations like they were weights strapped to her shoulders. She knew how badly she wanted to be great, how much she cared about her teammates, how every loss stayed with her long after the final buzzer.

But this?

This wasn't frustration.

This was guilt.

"What if people are right?"

Azzi swallowed.

"What if I'm nothing without you?"

The words were barely a whisper.

For a moment, Paige didn't say anything.

Not because she didn't have an answer.

Because she had too many.

She turned fully toward her, studying the way Azzi refused to look up. The way she made herself smaller despite being one of the most talented players Paige knew.

"Az."

The nickname was gentle.

Azzi's fingers stopped moving.

"Look at me."

A second passed.

Then another.

Slowly, Azzi lifted her eyes.

And Paige's heart broke a little at what she saw there.

Not anger.

Not frustration.

Fear.

"Do you actually believe that?" Paige asked softly.

Azzi's mouth opened, but nothing came out.

That was answer enough.

Paige shook her head slightly.

"Okay. Then I'm gonna need you to listen to me for a second."

She shifted closer, her knee brushing against Azzi's.

"First of all, you did not choke."

Azzi looked like she wanted to argue, but Paige didn't let her.

"No. You didn't."

Her voice carried a quiet certainty.

"You played your heart out. We all did. We win together, we lose together. That's how this works."

She paused.

"And second..."

Paige's expression softened even more.

"You really think I don't know who you are without me?"

Azzi looked down again.

"Azzi, I've watched you."

A small smile tugged at Paige's lips.

"I watched you before we ever played together. I watched you become one of the best players in the country. I watched you put in extra work when nobody was around. I watched you take care of your teammates when you were exhausted."

She nudged Azzi's shoulder gently.

"That wasn't because of me."

The room went quiet again.

"You are not great because you're next to me."

Paige held her gaze.

"You're great because you're you."

Azzi's eyes flickered, emotions she had been holding back threatening to spill over.

"And for the record?" Paige added, a little lighter, trying to ease some of the weight. "I'm pretty sure I'm pretty good without you too."

That earned the tiniest huff from Azzi.

A small, reluctant smile.

There she was.

Paige smiled back.

"But I'd rather be good with you." Her voice softened. "Because that's the thing. We're not making each other better because one of us is missing something."

She tapped lightly against Azzi's shoulder.

"We make each other better because we push each other."

The silence that followed wasn't heavy anymore.

It was healing.

And for the first time all day, Azzi let herself believe Paige.

Paige watched the way Azzi's eyes dropped again, like she was still trying to convince herself that the words weren't true.

Like some part of her was still waiting for Paige to change her mind.

That hurt more than the missed shots ever could.

Slowly, carefully, Paige reached out.

Her fingers brushed beneath Azzi's chin, a gentle touch that guided her gaze back up.

Not forcing.

Just reminding her.

I'm here. Look at me.

Azzi's breath caught slightly, her eyes meeting Paige's.

There was so much vulnerability there—so much doubt that Paige knew Azzi would never show anyone else.

Not her coaches.

Not the media.

Not even most of their teammates.

But Paige got to see it.

She always had.

"You're one of a kind, baby."

The words came out soft, almost like a secret.

Paige's thumb brushed lightly along her chin before she let her hand settle back down.

"I wouldn't wanna share the court with anyone else."

For a moment, Azzi just stared at her.

Because Paige didn't say things like that casually.

Not when it came to basketball.

Not when it came to them.

Paige was competitive to her core. She wanted to win. She wanted to be the best. She wanted to be challenged.

And yet here she was, looking at Azzi like there was no one else in the world she'd rather have beside her.

"You make me better," Paige continued quietly. "Not because you cover for me. Not because you make up for something I don't have."

She shook her head.

"Because you make me want to keep getting better."

Azzi's lips parted slightly, but she didn't have a response.

For once, she didn't have a sarcastic comment.

Didn't have a deflection.

She just let herself be seen.

Paige smiled faintly.

"So don't sit here and tell me you're nothing without me."

Her voice turned a little firmer.

"Because that's not true."

A beat passed.

"And honestly? It's kind of insulting."

That earned a tiny, watery laugh from Azzi.

"Insulting?" she repeated.

"Yeah." Paige nodded, completely serious. "I've spent all this time telling people how lucky I am to play with you, and you're over here acting like I dragged you onto the court."

Azzi shook her head, the tension finally giving way.

"You are so dramatic."

"Correct," Paige said easily. "But I'm also right."

A small smile pulled at Azzi's mouth.

And Paige knew that was enough.

Not because the insecurity was gone.

Not because one conversation could erase months of pressure and doubt.

But because, for tonight, Azzi remembered something she'd forgotten.

She wasn't carrying the weight alone.

Azzi let herself stay there for a moment.

Just for a moment.

She let herself believe Paige.

Let herself stop fighting the reassurance, stop picking apart every mistake, stop measuring herself against some impossible version of who she thought she had to be.

Her eyes softened as she leaned into Paige's touch, turning slightly into the warmth of her hand.

The gesture was small.

But Paige felt it.

The way Azzi finally stopped holding herself so tightly.

"Paige..."

Her name came out quieter than before.

Not broken.

Just honest.

Paige's expression softened, her thumb brushing once more along Azzi's cheek before she could say anything else.

And maybe that was the thing about them.

They could talk for hours, break down every fear and every doubt, but sometimes words still weren't enough.

Sometimes Azzi just needed to feel the truth of what Paige was saying.

So she leaned forward.

Slowly.

Giving Paige every chance to pull away if she wanted.

But she didn't.

Azzi's lips met hers in a soft, quiet kiss.

Nothing rushed.

Nothing desperate.

Just a moment of trust.

A thank you.

A reminder.

Paige went still for the briefest second—not because she didn't want it, but because she felt the weight of it. The vulnerability behind it. The fact that Azzi wasn't reaching for her because she needed someone to fix the hurt.

She was reaching for her because she felt safe.

And that meant everything.

When they pulled apart, Azzi stayed close, forehead resting lightly against Paige's.

The room was quiet except for the muffled sound of Grey's Anatomy still playing in the background.

Paige smiled softly.

"Feeling better?"

Azzi huffed a small laugh.

"You're annoying."

"Yeah," Paige said, completely unbothered. "But you love me."

A tiny smile appeared.

"Unfortunately."

Paige grinned.

"That's basically a compliment coming from you."

And this time, Azzi didn't argue.

Instead, she leaned forward, kissing Paige again. This kiss was deeper, her tongue slipping out to brush Paige’s lip. 

The blonde pressed closer, her arm slipping from Azzi’s shoulders to wrap around her waist. 

Paige's hand dropped to Azzi's thigh, and she tugged the girl into her lap without breaking the kiss.

Paige made a soft, pleased sound into the kiss as Azzi climbed into her lap—exactly where she wanted her.

Her fingers curled possessively around Azzi’s thigh, thumb pressing just above the knee. The other hand slid up under Azzi’s hoodie, warm against bare skin along her spine.

The TV still played softly in the background—some dramatic surgery scene—but neither of them was watching anymore.

When they finally broke apart for air, Paige didn’t go far. She kept their lips close together and whispered against them:

“You always taste like trouble.”

"Trouble?" Azzi giggles, dimples flashing

Paige’s chest tightened at the sound—those dimples, that laugh, damn.

“Yeah,” she murmured, voice low and fond. “Trouble. The good kind.”

She kissed one dimple first—soft and quick—then the other.

Then Azzi’s nose.

Then her forehead.

Each kiss lighter than the last until Paige rested their faces together again, breathing her in like she was oxygen after practice drills in July heat.

Azzi giggles again, and Paige feels something warm spark in her chest at the sound

Paige’s arms tightened around Azzi—like if she held her close enough, the world wouldn’t dare try to take this moment away.

That giggle again. God.

It hit Paige right in the ribs, like a perfect jump shot swishing through the net on game night.

She buried her face into Azzi’s neck and kissed just below her ear—a soft press of lips that lingered—then whispered:

“You’re my favorite sound.”

No teasing. No sarcasm. Just pure, unfiltered truth from someone who rarely said things so openly without a punchline first.

Azzi's mouth falls open in shock at the sincerity of the words, face coloring 

Paige noticed the blush instantly—the pink spreading across Azzi’s cheeks like sunrise.

And oh, she loved it.

She lifted her head slowly, eyes tracing every detail: the parted lips, the wide dark eyes full of surprise, that soft flush creeping down her neck.

Without a word—because why ruin it with talk?—Paige kissed her again. Slowly. Sweetly. Deep enough to make Azzi melt into her chest all over again.

When she pulled back just an inch this time?

She smiled—a real one. Warm and rare and entirely for her girl only to see

Azzi doesn't let her go far, chasing her mouth with desperation 

Paige’s breath caught.

Azzi chasing her?

Never one to be the aggressor, especially not like this—desperate, hungry, clinging with both hands in Paige’s hair—

And Paige? She was gone.

She met Azzi halfway fast—a hot clash of lips and teeth and moans muffled between them. One hand fisted tighter in that dark hair while the other slid up her back under fabric again.

The couch creaked as they shifted together—Paige leaning forward now to deepen it further—and somewhere in the background, a character on TV shouted about a code blue. 

Neither noticed. Neither cared.

They break apart when they need to breathe. Azzi looks like a vision--cheeks flushed pink, eyes glazed, lips swollen and slick. 

Paige drank her in.

Jesus.

Azzi looked like a dream—like the kind of girl they’d write songs about, the one people sigh over without even knowing why.

Her lips were kiss-swollen and shiny, her cheeks glowing pink, those dark eyes hazy with want. Her hair was messed up from Paige’s fingers running through it—and god, she was beautiful.

Paige didn’t say anything this time.

She just stared for a beat too long—heart pounding stupidly loud in her ears—before brushing two gentle thumbs across Azzi’s cheekbones. 

Then slowly… reverently… she kissed each corner of that perfect mouth.

"Paige," Azzi whined, high and trembling. 

The tension from earlier had transformed, twisting into an aching need that pressed just under her skin. She needed this. She needed Paige. She needed the older woman to show her how good she was.

That whine—high and trembling —sent a jolt straight through Paige’s body. 

Her stomach flipped. Her skin burned.

And suddenly, everything in her shifted—the playful affection hardening into something deeper, hotter, hungrier.

She saw it then—the need in Azzi’s eyes. Not just for kisses or closeness… but for *her.* For reassurance. For worship. To be cherished like she was the only woman on earth who mattered.

Paige didn’t hesitate this time.

She cupped Azzi’s face again—then kissed her slow and deep—a kiss that said "I see you," "You're safe," "You're mine."

No teasing now. Just heat and hunger.

Paige pulls away slightly, lips still brushing Azzi's. "What do you want?"

The question was soft—barely a breath against Azzi’s lips—but heavy with meaning.

Paige didn’t assume. Didn’t rush. She just hovered there, their noses touching, her blue eyes searching Azzi’s darkened gaze.

She wanted to give —whatever it was. Comfort? Touch? Affection that burned instead of soothed?

Whatever the answer… Paige would give it freely.

Her thumbs stroked gently over Azzi’s cheeks as she waited—patient, present—for the girl in her arms to tell her what she needed most right now.

Azzi whimpered, pressing forward rather than answer. 

Paige pulled away quickly, tutting in disapproval. "Uh uh, use your words."

Paige held firm—just far enough back that Azzi couldn’t close the distance again without permission.

She arched one blonde eyebrow, her expression gentle but unyielding. The I’m not playing look—the one she only used when she truly wanted honesty.

Azzi whimpered again, squirming slightly in her lap like a frustrated kid denied candy.

And Paige? She just waited. Calm. Steady.

Her hands stayed light on Azzi’s hips—not pushing away, not pulling closer—but making it clear: no kissing until those sweet lips formed words for once instead of sounds and sighs and desperate presses forward.

Azzi makes another attempt to press forward until Paige's hand slips into her hair, tightening.

Azzi lets out a low whine, "Paige, please"

Paige's hold loosens slightly, "Please, what mama?"

The "mama" slipped out—soft, instinctive—and Paige felt Azzi shiver in her arms.

Her grip gentled completely now, fingers uncurling from the tight hold to stroke through that dark hair instead. Soothing. Encouraging.

She tilted Azzi’s face up with two fingertips under her chin, eyes locked on hers—patient but firm still beneath all that tenderness.

That please had been so small and vulnerable… it tugged at something deep inside Paige’s chest.

But she wouldn’t cave yet. Not until she heard exactly what those trembling lips were begging for without words doing the work for them first.

“Touch me,” Azzi gasps breathlessly

Paige’s pulse jumped.

Touch me.

Two words. Soft. Shaking with need.

And suddenly—everything in Paige ignited.

She didn’t hesitate this time.

Her hands slid down Azzi’s sides, slow and deliberate, thumbs brushing over the hem of her hoodie before slipping underneath—warm skin meeting warm palms as she traced upward along her ribs, careful not to rush but definitely not gentle either now that permission was granted.

One hand moved to the small of Azzi’s back while the other cupped her jaw again—thumb sweeping across that plush lower lip once more—before Paige finally closed the distance and kissed her deeply.

Paige wastes no time dominating the kiss. Her tongue sweeps into Azzi's mouth, licking over her teeth and dragging out her taste. Her hands slide over the bare skin of Azzi's torso under her hoodie. 

Azzi whimpers, kissing her back desperately. Her mind went blank as Paige's large hands glided over her heated skin

Paige kissed her like she was starving—like this wasn’t just affection but claiming , like every whimper from Azzi fueled the fire burning in her chest.

Her tongue explored with slow, deliberate heat—licking into that sweet mouth, tasting every gasp and moan as it escaped. One hand mapped the curve of Azzi’s ribs, then drifted higher to brush just beneath a bra strap before skimming down again.

The other hand stayed firm on Azzi’s back—pulling them tighter together so their bodies pressed flush—and Paige could feel how fast Azzi’s heart raced against hers.

No space. No distance. Just skin on skin under fabric and two girls losing themselves completely in each other.

Azzi arched into her hands, a silent plea for more. 

Paige felt it—the arch, the press of Azzi’s body chasing her touch like a flower turning toward sunlight.

And fuck , she loved that.

She broke the kiss just enough to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses down Azzi’s jaw—then along her throat—where she lingered on that sensitive spot right below her ear. A soft bite. Then a soothing lick.

Her hands didn’t stop moving either—one slid higher under the hoodie now, palm gliding over warm skin until it hovered at the edge of where fabric met bare shoulder—teasing, waiting.

The other hand finally slipped around to cup Azzi’s breast through thin layers of clothing—not squeezing yet—but just holding there possessively. Testing how far they could go without words between them now

Azzi pulls away to rip off her hoodie before kissing Paige again. 

Paige barely had time to register the fabric flying—hoodie tossed somewhere behind them—before Azzi’s mouth crashed back onto hers.

And wow.

Now there was skin. Real, bare skin pressed against Paige through her own thin tank top. No layers between them anymore.

The kiss turned feverish instantly—hungrier, messier, hotter—and Paige groaned into it when Azzi’s hands fumbled at the hem of her shirt like she wanted it gone too.

Without breaking contact for a second, Paige lifted her arms just enough to help peel off the tank top… revealing toned shoulders and collarbones that glistened slightly from warmth or sweat or both. 

Their bodies met again now with nothing separating them but breath and hunger.

Azzi lets out another desperate whimper. Her hands slide over Paige restlessly, like they can’t decide where to settle. 

Paige felt every frantic touch—Azi’s hands skimming her shoulders, grazing down her arms, then sliding up to tangle briefly in her hair before dropping again like she couldn’t choose where to stay.

It drove Paige wild.

Not because it was clumsy—no—but because it was desperate . Like Azzi needed all of Paige at once and didn’t know how to take just one part without the rest.

So she helped guide those wandering hands—grabbing Azzi’s wrist gently and pressing a kiss into her palm before bringing both palms flat against Paige’s bare chest. 

Then slowly… deliberately… she arched into them with a soft sigh through parted lips—letting Azzi feel every beat of heart under warm skin.

The guiding touch settles Azzi slightly. She sucks Paige’s lip into her mouth as she holds onto her shoulders.

Paige inhaled sharply—oh.

The pull on her lip, soft and sucking like that? Devastating.

Her fingers curled into Azzi’s hair again, not tight this time but possessive—keeping her close as she let out a low hum of approval. That little move was so simple, yet it sent sparks straight down Paige’s spine.

She kissed back harder now—responding with slow rolls of her lips, matching the sweet suction before gently biting Azzi’s bottom lip in return. Just a nip. A tease.

Azzi moans, hips grinding into Paige’s lap mindlessly

The grind hit Paige like a shockwave.

A low, instinctive moan slipped from her throat—deeper than before—as Azzi’s hips rocked into hers without thinking. No rhythm yet, just pure need moving on its own.

Paige’s hands dropped instantly to Azzi’s waist, gripping tight as she felt the heat and pressure through their clothes. Her breath came faster now—shallow—and her lips parted against Azzi’s in a gasp that turned back into another hungry kiss.

She didn’t stop it. Didn’t scold or tease this time.

"Paige," Azzi whines against her mouth. 

She slides a hand into Paige's hair, tugging her bun free. Azzi clutches at the blonde strands as she mouths at Paige's neck. 

Paige tilts her head back to give the other woman more room. Her hands clutch Azzi's hips, guiding her pace.

The bun fell loose—golden hair spilling down Paige’s shoulders in soft waves—and Azzi didn’t waste a second.

She buried her face into the exposed column of Paige’s neck, lips trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses before teeth gently scraped over skin. A shiver ran through both of them.

Paige tilted back further with a quiet sigh—giving Azzi all the access she wanted—and let her fingers sink deep into those blonde strands. No pulling away now. Just holding on… guiding… feeling.

Her hips lifted again under Azzi's next roll—a silent rhythm building between them: slow at first, then more deliberate as Paige matched it from below with firm hands on those perfect hips.

The feeling of Paige's large hands on her hips, guiding her at the blonde's pace, only furthered the ache in Azzi's core. "Baby, please," she whined.

That baby, please —soft and pleading—hit Paige like a punch to the chest.

Her stomach clenched. Her breath caught.

God , she loved Azzi like this—vulnerable, desperate, asking without demanding, just needing her so badly it hurt.

She didn’t make her wait.

In one smooth motion, Paige flipped their positions—gently but firmly pushing Azzi back onto the couch cushions—and followed right after, hovering over her with darkening blue eyes and kiss-swollen lips. 

Then she crashed down again—not rough but insistent —kissing Azzi deep while one hand slid up from hip to waist, then higher.

Paige's hand slid up Azzi's abs, cupping her breasts through delicate lace. "You're so pretty, ma, y'know that?"

Paige’s voice was low—rough with affection—and her touch even softer.

Her palm cradled Azzi’s breast through the lace, thumb brushing gently over sensitive skin before circling slowly around the peak. Not rushing. Just worshiping.

And she meant every word.

“You’re so pretty, ma,” Paige murmured again between kisses—lips trailing from Azzi’s mouth to her jawline, then down toward that collarbone—as if saying it couldn’t be said enough tonight.

The words paired with Paige's teasing touch sent another spark of heat through Azzi's core. She arched, letting out a desperate sound that drove Paige wild.

That sound—desperate, high, breaking —nearly made Paige lose her composure.

Her fingers tightened slightly around Azzi’s breast before her thumb pressed down with just the right amount of pressure—testing, teasing—but not enough to give full relief. Not yet.

The arch beneath her? Perfect. Azzi offering herself up like that, trusting Paige completely?

It sent a thrill through Paige’s entire body. Her pulse pounded in her ears now—not from practice fatigue or adrenaline from games—but pure sexual hunger for this girl who looked at her like she hung the stars.

Without warning (but still gentle), Paige dipped down and kissed right over where lace met skin—a slow kiss on the swell of one breast—before glancing up to watch Azzi unravel.

"Use your words, ma, won't tell you again," Paige's voice is thick with restrained hunger.

Paige’s voice dropped—low, velvet, commanding.

She wasn’t asking anymore. She was telling.

And that tone—the one laced with hunger barely held in check—sent a visible shiver through Azzi’s body.

Paige stayed where she was: hovering over her girlfriend on the couch, eyes locked and intense despite the soft glow of the TV casting shadows across their faces. One hand still cupped Azzi gently,but unmoving now. Waiting.

Her other hand came up to brush a strand of dark hair from Azzi’s forehead—a rare tender contrast to how firm her words had been—and then she simply stared, waiting for those pretty lips to form words this time instead of just whimpers and sighs.

A pinched expression flashed across Azzi's face. "Just touch me," She hisses. 

The hiss—just touch me —and that defiant flash in Azzi’s eyes?

Paige didn’t blink.

She raised an eyebrow. Slowly. Deliberately.

And just like that, the air shifted again—playful dominance returning with quiet strength.

Her expression didn't turn angry or cold, but it did go serious. The kind of look only Paige could pull off: calm, unshakable authority wrapped in soft features and golden hair still loose around her shoulders.

Then she leaned down—not to kiss, not to touch—but close enough that their noses almost brushed—and said lowly:

“Try again.”

Paige saw it—the shift in Azzi’s eyes. Not rebellion.

Need.

A silent plea disguised as defiance. A challenge thrown down because she *wanted* Paige to step up, to take over, to erase every doubt and worry with her hands and her mouth and that steady strength only Paige had.

And fuck if that didn’t turn Paige on even more.

Without another word—without breaking eye contact—a slow, dangerous smile curled at the corner of her lips. 

Then she moved.

Fast but controlled: one hand slid behind Azzi’s head while the other pinned both wrists gently above their heads against the couch cushion. Her body followed, now kneeling between Azzi's legs. She kissed her hard.

The kiss stayed deep—messy, hungry—but Paige worked with precision.

Her lips never left Azzi’s as her fingers slid behind the lace of that delicate bra. A practiced flick of two fingers—and click—the clasp gave way.

She didn’t pull back to admire it. No teasing pause or dramatic reveal.

Instead, she kept kissing—devouring Azzi like she was starved—as one hand glided around bare skin now, warm and smooth under her palm. Her thumb swept over a peaked nipple through the fabric still loosely hanging off Azzi’s shoulders… then pressed down gently.

Testing heat. Testing reaction. 

And judging by how fast Azzi arched into that touch? Oh yeah. She wanted this too much to care about anything else right now.

Paige sucks over her nipple through the lace, teasing the younger woman further

Paige didn’t waste time.

She lowered her mouth—hot and slow—and sucked over Azzi’s nipple through the lace, fabric dampening instantly from her tongue.

The vibration of a soft hum escaped Paige as she did it again: another slow pull, teasing with pressure but not enough to fully relieve that ache building beneath. Just almost there. Just enough to make Azzi squirm.

Her free hand stayed pinned above them both—still holding those wrists gently—but now she shifted slightly, pressing more of her weight down so their bodies were flush together from chest to thigh.

Every breath between them grew heavier, every shift sent sparks flying. The blonde was loving every second of watching Azzi come undone under controlled touch

Paige sat back just enough, knees bracketing Azzi’s hips, and let her gaze travel.

The lace bra was gone now, tossed aside somewhere. And wow.

Azzi lay beneath her—flushed, breathing fast, hair fanned out on the couch cushions—and completely bare from the waist up. Her chest rose and fell with every shallow breath, nipples tight from anticipation, skin glowing in that dim TV light.

Paige bit down on her lower lip without meaning to. A rare show of awe

She wasn’t usually speechless. But this?

Her girl like this ?

It hit different every damn time.

Azzi arched harder, bucking against Paige's hold with another broken whine. 

That whine—broken, desperate —and the way Azzi arched up against her? 

Paige’s control wavered. Just a little.

Her jaw tightened. Her chest rose with a deeper breath than before.

And then she moved.

In one fluid motion, Paige released Azzi’s wrists and surged forward again—not to kiss her mouth this time—but lower. She pressed an open-mouthed kiss just above Azzi’s collarbone, then another trailing down slowly

Each touch of lips was deliberate—teasingly slow—as if savoring every inch on the path toward where that ache pulsed hardest now: exposed skin leading straight to temptation itself.

Her mouth closed over Azzi’s nipple—hot, wet, and sure—and she sucked hard, tongue swirling in slow circles before her teeth caught gently. Just a soft bite—not painful—but enough to make Azzi gasp and jerk under her.

The sound went straight to Paige’s core: that sharp inhale mixed with a whimper she couldn’t swallow fast enough. Her free hand came up now too, thumb brushing the other neglected peak.

Paige’s voice was a low, worshipful murmur, “So perfect f’me always.”

Every word dripped with devotion as her mouth transferred to Azzi’s other nipple, kissing and sucking just the same: slow circles of her tongue, that light scrape of teeth right after. A rhythm now—like breathing.

Her hips rolled down against Azzi’s in a slow grind, a deep press where their bodies met through layers of clothes still separating them slightly. Paige wanted Azzi to feel every bit of how much she desired her.

And between kisses and touches, she whispered soft praise against warm skin like an offering. 

Azzi whined, "Stop teasing."

Paige’s lips curled into a smirk—finally.

That whine. That demand.

She loved it when Azzi cracked like this, begging without really begging, but close enough to count.

Still, Paige wasn’t done teasing yet.

Instead of giving her what she clearly wanted right now—relief or more direct touch where it mattered most—she slowed everything down. 

One last soft kiss to each nipple, then she trailed upward with feather-light kisses until their mouths hovered just inches apart again—and Paige simply looked at her. Blue eyes dark with hunger and something dangerously close to affection all mixed together.

Paige arched one brow, voice dropping even lower—smooth as velvet and twice as dangerous.

“S’that how you ask for something?”

She didn’t say it loud. Just a quiet, teasing rumble right from her chest—laced with playful challenge.

Her lips were close enough to Azzi’s that their breath mingled, but she didn’t kiss her. 

Instead, Paige held that stare—the dark blue of her eyes almost black in the dim light—and waited. Letting Azzi squirm under the weight of unmet need and that smug little half-smile tugging at Paige’s mouth.

"Paige." It's still not quite begging, but Paige will take it. For now.

She smiled—small and satisfied—and finally gave Azzi what she’d been silently screaming for: more.

Her hips picked up speed. No more slow grinds. Now it was deliberate, rhythmic rolls of her body against Azzi’s—a steady pressure where it mattered most through their clothes as Paige gripped those hips hard with both hands to keep the pace tight and controlled.

She kissed Azzi again, lips crashing onto Azzi’s in a deep kiss that mirrored every movement below—hungry, possessive, like they were made just to fit together exactly like this.

Paige didn’t need words.

The way Azzi arched, the sharp whines slipping out—that was all the feedback she needed.

So she kept going. Lower now. Worshiping every inch like it was sacred: soft bites along Azzi’s ribs, open-mouthed kisses that left faint pink marks on warm skin… then her tongue tracing each defined line of those toned abs—slow and deliberate, savoring every twitch and shiver it pulled from her girl.

When Paige reached just below Azzi’s navel? She paused for half a second, then sucked hard—a deep pull of lips against sensitive skin right above where fabric still covered.

"Paige!" Azzi's hands fly down to clutch at blonde hair

Paige moaned at the tug, and Paige pressed even closer and trailed lower, kissing the soft dip above those hips. She nudged the waistband of Azzi’s sweats down with her nose.

She hooked two fingers into fabric and tugged down just enough to reveal more skin to plant a hot, open-mouthed kiss right on newly exposed flesh. 

Paige’s mouth worked magic—every kiss, every nip sent jolts through Azzi’s body.

She focused on that sensitive hipbone first: sucking hard enough to leave a mark, then nipping the skin. A sting wrapped in pleasure.

Azzi gasped again, hips twitching under Paige’s touch—and Paige smiled against her skin.

Got you.

Then she soothed it instantly with her tongue—a slow lick over the spot where teeth had been—before moving lower. 

Paige looked up, blue meeting brown as she slid the bottoms lower. The brunette was bare except for a pair of lace panties.

Paige paused.

Just for a second.

There she was: bare legs, smooth skin… and those delicate lace panties clinging to her hips like an afterthought. The fabric was sheer enough that Paige could see shadows beneath it—the warmth of what waited just under there.

And damn.

Azzi looked breathtaking like this: flushed cheeks, lips parted in anticipation, chest rising fast from all the teasing buildup.

Paige didn’t say anything. Not yet.

Instead? She exhaled slowly through her nose—a quiet sigh of pure want—and then lowered her mouth again without breaking eye contact. She pressed one soft kiss right over the lace-covered heat between Azzi's thighs. 

"Paige," Azzi gasped, thighs clenching instinctively 

The gasp—her name, breathless —and the way Azzi’s thighs clenched like a reflex?

Paige felt it all. 

Her lips curled against that lace-covered warmth, and she kissed there again, slowly this time, a soft press of her mouth over the fabric. 

Not moving yet. 

Just letting Azzi feel the heat of her breath through thin lace, testing how tight those muscles could get just from this.

She kept eye contact for another beat, watching those brown eyes go wide with need before finally lowering herself further. She placed a single kiss right at the center.  

"You're so wet, mama. Is that what was wrong, hm? Needed someone to take care of this pretty pussy. All you had to do was ask mama," Paige purred, hands prying brown thighs apart. 

She shifts, lying between Azzi's legs. 

There was an obvious wet spot in the center, and it made Paige's breath catch.

The look in Paige's eye was dark and hungry. It sent a shiver down Azzi's spine. 

Not playful anymore. Not teasing.

Dark. Hungry. Feral.

Paige looked at her like Azzi was the only thing in the world worth tasting, worshipping, consuming —and that gaze alone sent heat flooding straight to her core again.

No words this time. No purrs or soft praises.

Just action.

Paige hooked two fingers into each side of those lace panties—and with one slow, deliberate motion—pulled them down over Azzi’s hips, then off completely. She tossed them aside without breaking eye contact.

Paige felt the tug in her hair—Azzi pulling, impatient, trying to force her down—and she chuckled.

Low. Deep. Amused.

Not mocking—not cruel—but teasing. The kind of laugh that said: "I know what you want, but I’m gonna make you wait for it."  

She stayed right where she was: hovering just above Azzi’s bare skin, knees bracketing those thighs still slightly apart from earlier prying hands. Her blue eyes flicked up again, meeting Azzi’s desperate gaze.

She pressed one slow kiss to the inside of her thigh instead. High up at first, a soft peck near sensitive skin that did nothing but worsen the ache in Azzi’s core. 

Azzi's hips bucked, chasing her mouth.

Paige smirked as Azzi’s hips bucked up off the couch, chasing her lips like a reflex.

She leaned back just an inch when those hips rose again, keeping that teasing distance, then pressed another kiss on the same spot on— the other thigh this time. 

Azzi was practically trembling now: thighs tensed, fingers twisted tighter in Paige’s hair, not yanking hard enough to hurt but with clear urgency. Her chest rose fast with shallow breaths.

And Paige? 

She loved it. Loved how worked up she could make Azzi without even touching where it mattered most, all because of her. 

Azzi lets out a sharp cry, stomach clenching despite the minimal sensation. 

The sound sent a jolt straight through Paige.

And her taste?

Fuck.

Paige moaned again, deeper this time, as she dove in without hesitation. No slow buildup. No gentle exploration.

She licked hard and fast into Azzi’s core—flat tongue pressing firmly, then circling with purpose, drinking in every drop of her girl like she’d been starving for it (and maybe she had).

Her eyes fluttered shut for a second at the sensation: salty-sweet warmth flooding her senses. She doubled down—sucking lightly while flicking her tongue over that sensitive bundle again. 

"Paige!" It's a desperate, broken sob. 

Her hold tightens on Paige's hair, and her hips jump like they don't know whether to run or press further into the sensation

Paige felt the tug in her hair—tighter now, frantic —and the way Azzi’s hips jerked beneath her mouth.

That broken sob shattered whatever restraint she might’ve had left.

Her hands shot up instantly, one gripping Azzi’s thigh to pin it gently against the couch, keeping those legs open, while the other slid around to press flat against Azzi’s stomach to hold her in place.

No more soft kisses. No teasing swirls.

Paige sucked hard over Azzi's clit—a wet, rhythmic pull with sealed lips—and followed immediately with quick flicks of her tongue right after. Fast. Relentless. 

Like she was determined to make that golden girl come undone completely. 

Paige’s low, commanding voice vibrated right against Azzi’s sensitive skin, a shockwave all on its own. “Don’t run, pretty, keep those legs open f’me.”

She didn’t lift her head. Didn’t break contact.

Just spoke directly into that heat between trembling thighs—the words muffled but crystal clear in meaning—and then immediately returned to what she’d been doing: sucking gently but firmly before switching back to rapid tongue flicks over the same spot.

The whimper Azzi let out?

Music.

Paige saw it—the way Azzi’s eyes rolled back, her mouth slack with shock and pleasure.

And she knew.

Her girl was right there—on the edge, teetering, about to shatter.

That face? The utter loss of control in someone who usually carried herself like a queen.

It hit Paige hard—not just sexually but emotionally. Seeing Azzi this vulnerable because of her touch. It made something warm and fierce swell in her chest.

But she didn’t slow down. No mercy now.

She increased the pressure slightly—lips sealing around that sensitive bud again—and sucked harder. 

"Paige! Paige, baby, I'm gonna-" Azzi whimpered, pitched and needy. Her body tensed and Paige moaned into her, pushing Azzi even closer to her peak.

Then, in that moment right before she snapped, Paige pulled away. 

The second Paige pulled away—right on the edge —Azzi made a sound that tore through the quiet apartment.

A cry. Half whimper, half sob. Confused. Devastated.

Her body was wound tight—every muscle tense, every nerve screaming for release—and then suddenly? Nothing.

No contact. No heat. Just cold air and the absence of Paige’s mouth where she’d been seconds ago.

Paige stayed crouched between her thighs, breathing hard herself, lips glistening and chin wet with Azzi.

Her eyes were blown wide with lust—but also something dangerously close to control. A predator who knew exactly what they were doing when they teased their prey like this. 

Azzi whines again, "I was so close." 

Paige’s voice was syrup—sweet, mocking coo —as she rubbed slow circles on Azzi’s trembling thigh with her thumb.

“Mmmhmm… I know baby. I know.”

She didn’t sound sorry. Not even a little.

No guilt in those bright blue eyes now fixed on the wrecked girl beneath her—lips parted, chest heaving, still dripping with unsolved tension.

Paige leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to Azzi’s knee, then another higher up, moving slowly back toward where she’d stopped—but not rushing. Not giving in yet.

Her touch stayed gentle—the teasing kind of affection that made it worse because it wasn't cruel or angry, just cruel by design: loving enough to hurt.

Paige’s voice dropped lower—smooth, deliberate, laced with playful dominance—as she murmured against Azzi’s thigh.

“You been a brat all day, babygirl…”

Each word landed like a soft slap. Not angry. Just true. Paige had noticed everything: the sharp tone earlier in the hallway when Azzi snapped at her for no reason… how distant she’d been during lunch… even that little eye roll when Paige joked about their date.

She tilted her head and kissed higher—up along sensitive inner thigh—but still avoiding where Azzi needed it most.

Her hand slid to cup that jaw instead, tilting it down so their eyes met again while she whispered:

“Why should I let you cum?”

Azzi let out another sob. "Please, baby, I need it." Her hips buck.

The sob—raw and pleading—hit Paige right in the chest.

But she didn’t fold.

Not yet.

Azzi’s hips bucked again, desperate and uncontrolled, chasing friction that wasn't there, begging without touch. And it was adorable how wrecked she looked. How badly she needed release after being denied so close to the edge.

Paige exhaled slowly through her nose—a quiet breath of restraint—and then leaned down until their lips were almost touching. Not kissing. Just hovering there, sharing air.

“You need it?” She echoed softly, thumb brushing Azzi’s bottom lip now like a reward for saying please—but not giving more than that

Azzi lets out another wrecked sob in response, and Paige slides her thumb into the other girl's mouth, pressing into her tongue. 

The older woman groaned as Azzi wrapped her lips around the digit without hesitation, tongue swirling over the pad

Paige’s breath hitched.

Oh.

That groan—low and involuntary—escaped her the second Azzi took her thumb into that warm, wet mouth without hesitation. No resistance. Just soft lips sealing around it, then that tongue —swirling slow, deliberate circles over the pad of Paige’s thumb like she was tasting something sweet.

It sent a jolt straight down Paige’s spine.

Her eyes fluttered shut for half a beat—a rare crack in control—but she didn’t pull away. Nope. 

Instead? She pushed deeper just slightly, letting Azzi suck on it while watching those pretty brown eyes water with need above hers.

And damn if that wasn't one of the hottest things ever.

Paige’s voice came out rough, like she’d been screaming instead of teasing.

“Fuck… look at you.”

Her blue eyes drank in every detail: Azzi’s kiss-swollen lips wrapped around her thumb, the tears still glistening on her lashes, that flushed skin from chest to cheeks, completely undone. A mess. Her mess.

And it made Paige feel powerful in a way that wasn’t about control—but about devotion.

“All for me?”

Not accusatory. Not demanding an answer. Just… marveling at it all—the trust, the surrender, how much Azzi needed her.

Paige’s entire body tingled.

That hum—low, vibrating around her thumb still resting in Azzi’s mouth—was pure sin.

Her eyes fluttered shut again, and for a second? She forgot how to breathe. Forgot where she was. All she knew was that sound—the warmth of Azzi's lips, the wet heat of her tongue swirling gently—and suddenly Paige felt something coil tight in her stomach.

She could cum just like this.

From this. From being sucked on by someone who looked at her like she hung the moon while begging for release?

Yeah. Totally possible.

A soft whimper escaped Paige without meaning to—a quiet surrender to sensation.

She leaned down and kissed Azzi properly for the first time since all this started: deep, slow, desperate.

Paige’s kiss deepened—but it wasn’t sweet.

It was filthy.

Her thumb gently pried Azzi’s lips apart, stretching her mouth just enough—then Paige leaned in and spit into it. Softly. Not rough or degrading, but intimate. Possessive.

A wet warmth landing on Azzi’s tongue—a claim, a tease, something primal between lovers who knew each other so well they didn’t need words for this kind of intimacy.

Then she kissed again immediately after—their mouths crashing together—mixing that spit with the heat of their tongues tangling now: messy, hungry, almost feral in its need

This? This was pure hunger finally breaking loose

No more teasing.

No pauses. No lingering kisses on thighs or soft worships along the way.

Paige moved fast—hungry —and dropped back between Azzi’s legs like she had a mission now. 

Her lips found Azzi’s clit instantly, sealing around it in a firm, wet kiss and sucking

Hard and deep right from the start—no buildup this time.

Paige’s fingers slid effortlessly through Azzi’s heat—soaked, slick, ready —and without hesitation, she pushed two fingers in.

No stretching first. No slow prep. Just a smooth glide as her fingertips curled inside, filling that warmth completely while her mouth stayed locked on Azzi’s clit—sucking and licking in perfect rhythm with the thrust of those fingers.

She set a pace immediately: steady strokes deep inside that matched her tongue. With every flick, her fingers curl to hit Azzi’s sweet spot. 

The combination was brutal. Overwhelming.

No escape for Azzi now—not from sensation or pleasure—but Paige didn’t care about mercy anymore.

Azzi couldn’t breathe.

Her lungs forgot how to work, each gasp cut short by the sheer intensity crashing through her body. No space for sound, just silent screams building behind clenched teeth and fluttering lips.

Her hands flailed—fingers scrambling at nothing, trying to grip the couch cushion or Paige’s arm or anything for stability—but there was no anchor. Just waves of sensation slamming into her from every angle.

And when her hips jerked away instinctively, she followed without breaking contact—mouth staying sealed tight as she moved with Azzi’s squirm—and kept those two fingers working in relentless rhythm. 

"Thought I told you not to run from me. Take that shit," Paige’s voice was a low, commanding growl—rough with desire—as she delivered the scolding right against Azzi’s most sensitive spot.

Then her teeth caught Azzi’s clit. Just a quick, sharp nip. Not painful. A sting wrapped in pleasure that sent electric shockwaves through every nerve.

Before Azzi could even process it, Paige sucked again immediately after—harder this time—and her fingers curled deeper inside at the same moment. 

No escape now. No hesitation or gentleness.

Just Paige taking full control: giving exactly what had been denied… but making sure Azzi took it like she was supposed to. 

"Paige!" It rips out of Azzi's chest, loud enough for the whole complex to hear.

Paige’s gaze locked onto Azzi’s—wide, dazed brown eyes still glazed from the first climax.

And without breaking eye contact, she slid a third finger in.

No warning. No prep beyond how soaked and ready Azzi already was. Just a slow, deliberate stretch—filling her even more—as Paige watched every microexpression flash across that pretty face: surprise… overstimulation… then something dangerously close to hunger again.

She curled all three fingers slightly inside—testing—and then whispered low: “You can gimme another one, hm?”

Her voice was thick with challenge now—not cruel but playful dominance.

"S'much-" Azzi whimpers. 

Paige didn’t ease up.

She knew it was too much. The whimper, shaky and overwhelmed, proved that.

But Azzi had been bratty earlier. Distant. Snappy. And now? Now Paige wanted to see just how far she could push her girl before she completely melted apart.

Her thumb pressed down on Azzi’s clit—not with the same brutal suction from before, but steady, rhythmic pressure: firm circles that kept the nerves alight even after an orgasm

And then she leaned back slightly between those trembling thighs, still watching those watery brown eyes. 

Her voice was soft but edged with mischief, “I know, ma, that’s what you wanted, right?”

Azzi couldn’t form words.

Her lips parted, stuttering out a broken, breathless attempt at an answer, but nothing coherent came. “AH-hm-”

The pleasure was too much. Too intense. Overwhelming in the best and worst way possible. Her body still trembling from the first climax while Paige’s third finger stretched her just right, that thumb rubbing slow, torturous circles on her clit like it owned every nerve there. 

She could only gasp. Shiver. Blink rapidly through tears forming again—not from sadness this time, but pure sensory overload

Paige watched closely, loving how Azzi couldn’t even lie or pretend she wasn't affected. 

"Shh, s'alright, I got you, pretty girl," Paige said, sliding two fingers from her free hand into Azzi's mouth.

Paige’s voice dropped into something softer now, but her actions stayed relentless.

She slid two fingers from her free hand into Azzi’s mouth, the same way she’d done before, but this time it wasn’t teasing. It was grounding. A quiet comfort amid the storm of sensation.

Then she sped up.

Fingers pumping faster now—not harsh, but rhythmic and deliberate—curling just right to hit that spot again while her thumb kept up those steady circles on clit. All coordinated like a precision dance only they knew.

The sound of Azzi’s whimpers—soft, continuous, desperate—filled the quiet room. Drool slipped from her lips around Paige’s fingers still resting on her tongue… eyes fluttering like they weighed a thousand pounds.

She was gone. Floating somewhere between pleasure and exhaustion, completely at Paige’s mercy.

Paige didn’t like that.

Not when she wanted to see those beautiful brown eyes—the ones she loved more than anything—as Azzi came undone again.

“Look at me,” she said low—a command wrapped in care—and tapped Azzi's cheek lightly with the back of two knuckles to coax them open.

The second Azzi’s hazy eyes finally fluttered open—meeting Paige’s gaze—the blonde smiled.

A real one. Tender, proud, possessive.

“There’s my girl.”

Then, without missing a beat?

Paige dug in.

Her fingers curled deep inside—precision striking Azzi’s G-spot like she knew it by heart (because she did)—hitting that spongy wall with just the right pressure and angle while keeping her thumb moving steady on the clit

No more slow buildup. No mercy.

Just direct stimulation, two points of pleasure attacked at once—forcing another climax to rise fast and hard despite how overwhelmed Azzi already was. 

“Gimme another one babygirl… show me who owns this pussy.” 

She said it gently, murmuring right as her fingers kept working that perfect spot inside while her thumb circled with unrelenting focus. Not mean. Not angry. Just claiming.

Still dazed from before and drooling slightly around Paige’s fingers in her mouth, Azzi locked eyes with her—wide, glassy with pleasure and something deeper: submission wrapped in love

Because yeah—this pussy? This body?

Paige owned it.

The second the words sank in, Azzi shattered.

Not with a scream this time. Not even a loud sound.

Just silence, followed by her body clenching around Paige’s fingers like a vice, and then that rush—warm, wet heat flooding over Paige’s hand and forearm as Azzi came hard for the second time

Her thighs trembled violently. Her back arched slightly off the couch without meaning to. 

Soft whimpers slipped out between parted lips—muffled by Paige's other fingers—but it was there: pure release after being pushed so far

And Paige felt every pulse of it—the way Azzi clenched down on her fingers like she never wanted to let go. 

Paige felt it, the exact moment Azzi’s body went limp.

The tension melted. The clenching stopped. Her thighs relaxed, falling open naturally now, no longer tensed with pleasure or resistance.

Only then did Paige slow, her fingers easing out gently from where they’d been curled inside, and she pulled her hand free entirely without hurry

She watched Azzi sink deeper into the couch: chest rising and falling slowly, eyes half-lidded, exhausted in that blissful post-orgasm haze where everything feels soft and far away.

Her thumb wiped a stray tear from Azzi’s cheek before leaning down to press a tender kiss to her forehead—a stark contrast to all the filthy words and rough dominance just moments ago.

Paige sat up slowly, still between Azzi’s legs but now leaning back on her heels.

Without hesitation—and with zero shame—she brought her glistening fingers to her mouth and popped them in.

One by one, she sucked each finger clean—tasting Azzi: salty-sweet warmth mixed with the faint tang of arousal. Her eyes fluttered shut for a second at the sensation… that intimate flavor only hers

A low groan rumbled from Paige’s chest—a sound of pure satisfaction—as she cleaned every trace off while watching Azzi lie there completely spent

Paige’s eyes opened slowly, looking down at Azzi.

Still flushed. Hair messy from squirming. Lips slightly parted… but now?

That look.

Not exhaustion anymore.

A hint of hunger creeping back in—soft at first, like embers reigniting after a fire died down, but there. Undeniable.

Her brown eyes were wide, focused on Paige with a new kind of intensity. And that tiny flicker—that want —made Paige’s chest tighten

She swallowed hard, suddenly aware how quiet it had gotten.

Paige’s breath hitched the second Azzi’s hand landed on her bare stomach—warm, soft, intentional.

“Let me get you.” So quiet. So tender. Spoken like a prayer.

Coming from someone who was just completely wrecked moments ago? Who couldn’t even form sentences through pleasure?

It sent a wave of heat straight to Paige’s core—different than before. Not just lust, but something warmer. Deeper.

Her lips parted slightly as she stared down at Azzi—the girl still flushed, eyes heavy with exhaustion but determined—and Paige smiled

“Yeah?” She whispered back, voice suddenly husky with emotion and want. “You wanna help me, baby?”

Paige let out a low groan deep in her throat—as she saw Azzi’s lip tucked between her teeth, all nervous anticipation and quiet devotion.

In one smooth motion, Paige scooped her up and carried her down the hallway toward their bedroom

The walk was short. Familiar. The door clicked open with Paige’s hip as she pushed it inward.

She laid Azzi out on their bed—the soft sheets cool beneath bare skin now—and hovered over her for a heartbeat

Eyes locked again.

The switch happened fast, like Azzi had been waiting for this exact moment.

One second Paige was hovering over her and the next she was on her back, with Azzi straddling her lap comfortably, warm thighs framing Paige’s hips

And then came the kiss.

Not hesitant. Not soft and sweet like before—but hungry. Needy. 

Azzi crashed their lips together, chasing the taste of herself still lingering on Paige’s mouth—the salty-sweet flavor from earlier. She deepened it instantly, tongue sliding against tongue in a slow, exploring rhythm that made heat pool low in Paige's belly

"You fucked me so good, baby," Azzi murmurs against her mouth, voice syrupy sweet. "Now it's your turn."

Paige’s heart stuttered.

That voice—syrupy sweet, tender in a way that made it sound like Azzi was confessing something sacred—hit Paige right in the chest.

So soft. So loving. Not just about sex, but care wrapped around desire.

And damn if those words didn’t make Paige feel things she couldn't name

She let out a shaky breath through her nose, eyes fluttering shut for half a second before opening again—blue and dark with want—as she finally kissed Azzi back properly.

Her hands slid up Azzi's bare sides. 

Paige’s hands snapped to Azzi’s hips the second she felt that slow, intentional rock.

A low groan rumbled from her chest—unfiltered, instinctive—as those hips pressed down against hers with deliberate pressure… not frantic or desperate like before, but meaningful.

Like Azzi was taking her time. Like she wanted Paige to feel every movement.

And oh god, she did.

The friction through their clothes sent sparks up Paige's spine. The warmth of Azzi right on top of her—the softness of those lips still kissing hers between breaths—and now this teasing roll

Paige gripped tighter, fingers pressing into bare skin hard enough to bruise. 

"You're wearing too many clothes," Azzi says, taking off her sports bra then reaching for the waistband of her sweats. She pushes them down with her boxers in one go. 

She was desperate for a taste of Paige, wanting to make the other girl feel as good as she had. 

Paige watched, mesmerized, as Azzi peeled off her sports bra first, revealing smooth skin and soft curves, then went straight for the waistband of her sweats.

No hesitation. No shyness.

Just purpose.

And in one fluid motion, she pushed them down—taking her boxers with them—and kicked them aside without looking away from Paige

Azzi looked down at Paige, eyes burning with that quiet hunger to give back everything Paige had just done for her

She leaned down again—but this time her lips headed lower. 

Paige tilted her head instinctively to the side—exposing more of her neck—as Azzi’s lips found warm skin.

Azzi nipped at the skin, soft at first, testing, then firmer. Possessive. Deliberate little bites that stung just enough before turning into kisses right after

Each one left a mark—a faint bruise already blooming on Paige's pale skin where brown lips had pressed too hard for playfulness and not quite hard enough to hurt

She knew it.

Knew she’d whine about them tomorrow morning: while trying (and failing) to hide how much she secretly loved being claimed like this

But right now? She didn’t care.

"You're so beautiful, P," The sigh—soft, adoring—landed like a feather on Paige’s collarbone.

And the words, spoken with such sincerity. Such quiet awe. Like Azzi wasn’t just saying it. Like she meant it in her bones

Paige’s breath caught.

Her chest tightened in that warm, achy way that only happened when Azzi looked at her like this—like she was the most precious thing in the world—and said something tender out loud

No teasing now. No dominance or games.

Just love… raw and simple as Azzi kissed up from her neck to that sensitive spot beneath Paige's jawline, pressing soft lips there instead of biting. 

The second Azzi’s lips wrapped around her nipple, warm, wet suction pulling it into her mouth, Paige arched

A sharp inhale. Her back lifted off the bed instinctively, hips twitching under Azzi’s weight.

That sensitive pink peak—perky from both arousal and the cool air in their bedroom—was suddenly flooded with sensation.

Paige gasped quietly—a sound she didn’t mean to make—and one hand flew up to tangle in Azzi's dark hair without thinking

Not pushing. Not guiding.

Just holding on. Feeling everything

Paige’s fingers curled gently in Azzi’s hair—not tugging, just resting there—as the younger girl kept working her nipple with slow, deliberate suction.

Each pull sent sparks down Paige’s spine. Her chest rose and fell faster now. Every breath shallow and quiet

Azzi wasn’t rushing. Wasn’t being rough or greedy—just loving on Paige in that sweet, worshipful way only she could: lips soft around the sensitive bud, tongue flicking lightly over it when she pulled back

Then diving back in again

And God? 

It felt so good.

Azzi’s lips moved lower—fast, hungry, but still sloppy with affection.

No precision. Just kissing. Over and over.

Bruising little pecks rained down Paige’s stomach: her abs, the soft dip of her navel, each side where hip bones jutted out beneath warm skin, all marked with messy kisses that were more teeth than lips sometimes

She wasn’t gentle about it. Not trying to be perfect or romantic.

Just claiming every inch she could reach—leaving faint pink blooms on pale blonde skin—as she worked her way south toward Paige's waistband.

Her breath hot against bare flesh. 

Paige’s voice cracked—low, rough—as that mouth kept attacking her skin.

“Shit, ma… that fuckin’ mouth—”

She didn’t finish. Couldn’t.

Too busy arching into the kisses, thighs tensing on either side of Azzi as those sloppy bruises bloomed across her stomach and hips. Each one sent a jolt straight to her core—not pain… but heat.

And damn it all

Azzi had the kind of kisser who could wreck someone just by being messy and eager like this

No finesse. Just passion—and Paige was melting under it fast.

"Yeah? Am I doing good, Paigey?" Azzi's voice was mockingly innocent, despite her current actions. She batted her lashes at the older woman 

Paige narrowed her eyes.

Paigey.

That stupid, *cute* nickname—said in that mock-innocent voice with the lashes fluttering? 

Oh no. Absolutely not. Not when Azzi was currently sucking bruises into Paige’s stomach like she owned it, and doing a damn good job at it

“Don’t ‘Paigey’ me,” Paige muttered, but there was zero real annoyance—just a soft warning laced with amusement as she stared down at that fake angel face

Paige’s breath stopped.

Completely.

For one frozen second, the world narrowed to the wet press of Azzi’s lips right above her mound. Not quite where she wanted it, but so close. 

Azzi’s eyes were still locked on hers—blue meeting brown in a silent challenge laced with mischief and affection

No rush. No urgency now, just slow, deliberate teasing as Azzi hovered there—lips still slightly parted—and waited for Paige’s reaction without moving another inch

Just watching her squirm. 

"Azzi," Paige's jaw is clenched, hand tightening its hold on Azzi's hair. 

Azzi flashes Paige a smile, dimples popping, "Yeah P?" It's casual, as if Paige isn't spread open and dripping for her just inches from her face

Paige’s jaw stayed clenched—lips pressed into a thin line—as blue eyes burned down at Azzi with a mix of frustration and sheer desire

No words came out yet.

Just that silent scream behind her gaze:   Are you really gonna sit there smiling while I’m losing my mind?

Azzi lets out a sweet giggle before leaning down to lick through Paige’s core. 

Paige’s head presses back into the pillow, swearing under her breath as she arches into the touch. 

Azzi’s giggle—sweet, light, playful—was the last thing Paige heard before warmth.

Azzi dragged her tongue right through Paige’s core—long, slow, deliberate.—and it sent a shockwave up her spine so intense she nearly cried out

Her head slammed back into the pillow with a soft thud. A curse slipped under her breath: “Fuck…

She arched off the bed—hips lifting instinctively toward that mouth—as every nerve lit up at once

The sound of Azzi’s moan vibrated right through Paige’s core. “You taste so good, baby”

Hearing that with her mouth still on Paige made Paige shiver. A full-body tremor ran through her—from the praise itself, from how turned on she suddenly felt knowing Azzi loved this.

Her fingers twisted tighter in dark hair without meaning to—not pulling away but holding close—as if afraid Azzi might stop

Azzi dove back in with renewed hunger

Paige’s breath hitched as Azzi lapped at her core. 

Slow at first, then deeper, like she was tasting the wetness already gathering there before her tongue actually slipped inside.

Greedy and deliberate, savoring every drop, every flavor.

Paige was losing it.

A whimper escaped her lips this time, vulnerable and desperate all at once. Her hips twitched again on instinct, chasing that tongue.

Paige’s voice cracked as her free hand fisted the sheets beside her. “Azzi… baby… fuck-slow down ma-”

Azzi’s mouth felt too good, too intense, moving with this slow but thorough hunger that made every nerve sing—and Paige wasn’t ready for how fast it hit.

Her thighs trembled. Her chest rose unevenly. That tight coil in her stomach? Already winding up again after everything earlier

And she needed just one second to breathe—or else she’d come embarrassingly fast. 

The plea did the exact opposite of what Paige intended.

Instead of slowing down, Azzi took it as a challenge.

A spark lit in her eyes—gotcha —and she doubled down. 

Her tongue moved faster now,  licking deeper, curling slightly inside with every stroke, tasting more deliberately, pressing harder against sensitive nerves that made Paige’s back arch off the bed again

No mercy. No pity for how overwhelmed Paige sounded

Just Azzi—determined to make her come undone fast and completely, proving just how good she could be at this when she wanted to. 

Azzi shifted—graceful, confident—and slid her arms around Paige’s thighs, spreading them wider with gentle but firm pressure.

Now she had full access.

No space to squirm away. No hiding from what came next

Then—her thumb found Paige’s clit: swollen, sensitive, begging for attention after all the teasing and kissing

She pressed down gently at first, a soft circle, and watched Paige’s face carefully. Her lips parted in a silent gasp, eyes fluttering shut.

Azzi added it into the rhythm of her tongue below. 

A sob ripped from Paige’s chest as the dual sensation hit: Azzi’s tongue working deep inside while her thumb circled her clit with just the right pressure.

Her hand tightened in Azzi’s hair and the other woman groaned in response. 

A deep, muffled sound vibrated against Paige’s core—hot and electric—as if the tug sent a thrill straight through her.

She pressed harder into it—her mouth sealing tighter around Paige, sucking gently now as her thumb kept up those slow, torturous circles.

Completely lost in making Paige fall apart.

Paige’s body snapped tight.

One second—she was gasping, clutching the sheets, yanking Azzi’s hair—and the next her entire form locked up like a live wire had been jammed into her spine

No warning. No slow build this time.

Just instant overload—every muscle tensing at once as pleasure exploded through her in a white-hot wave

“Fuck,” Paige choked out, barely audible as she came hard and fast under Azzi’s mouth, thighs clamping instinctively around that head. 

Azzi didn’t stop right away.

She kept her lips soft, tongue gentle—guiding Paige through the aftershocks with slow, soothing licks and light kisses as the older woman trembled beneath her

Only when she felt Paige’s body finally start to relax—chest rising in shaky breaths instead of tense gasps—did Azzi pull back fully

She sat up slowly on her knees between Paige’s legs and licked her lips.

Satisfied. A little smug too

Her dark eyes scanned over Paige—the flushed face, half-lidded blue eyes glazed with bliss, hair messy from tossing on the pillow—and that tiny spark of pride flared brighter in Azzi's chest.

That smug look on Azzi’s face was unfair.

She knew exactly what she’d done. How thoroughly she’d wrecked Paige with just her mouth, and now here she sat, proud little dimples popping again

Paige muttered weakly, no real bite. “Don’t look so smug.”

Like a scolding from someone who wasn’t even capable of sitting up yet

Her chest rose slowly. One hand still lay loosely over her stomach where Azzi had been moments ago

Azzi’s smile widened, “I think I broke a record.”

Paige’s eyes narrowed at the other girl playfully. “Is that right?”

The brunette nodded, smug smile growing as she climbed into Paige’s lap. “Mhm.” She nips Paige’s lip before kissing her, letting the woman taste herself.

Azzi’s grin widened—wicked, victorious —and Paige could see it in her eyes.

“I think I broke a record.”

The sheer confidence. The audacity.

Paige narrowed her blue eyes playfully at that… but before she could even retort with some sarcastic “Oh really?”

Azzi was already climbing into her lap—smooth and sure—and then those lips crashed down on hers

Not gentle. Not sweet.

A kiss, deep and claiming. Paige tasted herself on Azzi’s mouth: salty, warm, undeniable proof of what just went down

And damn if it didn’t make something possessive flicker in Paige's chest. 

The shift was immediate.

Paige’s eyes—already dark with post-orgasm haze—deepened further. If that were even possible.

Something predatory flickered in her gaze now: a spark of competition, of hunger, not just for Azzi’s body, but to flip the script completely

She licked her lips slowly—a deliberate motion—as if savoring the taste still lingering there

Then she smirked. A real one. Playful but dangerous. “Well… I guess I better catch up.”

And without warning, she flipped their positions in one swift move—rolling Azzi onto her back beneath Paige—and pinned those wrists above their head.