sapph

A tiny, shiny, ridiculously detailed thing hanging from your badge reel, half-hidden against the pocket of your scrubs. It swung every time you moved, catching the fluorescent light of the ED in little flashes of colour. Most people would not have looked twice at it. Most people would have seen it as just another piece of plastic merch, something cute and bright attached to a tired med student trying very hard not to look like they had no idea where they were supposed to be.

Parker noticed it immediately.

You were standing at the nurses’ station with Lena beside you, nodding along while she pointed out where things were kept, where you were allowed to stand without getting trampled, and which attendings were likely to teach versus which ones would make you regret choosing medicine. Abbott was behind the desk, already looking halfway done with the night even though it had barely started. Cruz was restocking a drawer with the concentrated frustration of someone who had done it three times already and knew nobody would keep it organized. Shen passed by with a chart tucked under one arm, offering you a polite smile that made you feel only slightly less like you were being dropped into deep water without floaties.

And Parker, who had been listening to precisely none of this, looked at your badge reel and said, “Is that the limited drop from the anniversary set?”

Lena stopped talking.

Abbott looked up.

Cruz’s hand froze inside the drawer.

You blinked, sure for one second that you had hallucinated the question out of stress, sleep deprivation, and the vending machine coffee you had chugged in the parking lot.

Then you looked down at the keychain.

Then back at Parker.

Your whole face lit up.

“Oh my God,” you said, with the kind of startled joy that made it impossible to pretend you were calm. “You know what this is?”

Parker’s expression barely changed, but something in her eyes sharpened with quiet amusement. “I know what it is.”

“That is not the same as answering the question.”

“I answered the question.”

“No, you dodged the question.” You held the keychain up between two fingers, the nerves of your first shift suddenly pushed aside by sheer disbelief. “This was online for nine minutes before it sold out. Nine. I had three tabs open and my phone in my hand. I nearly cried when the order confirmation came through.”

Parker tilted her head slightly. “That seems like an intense response to a keychain.”

“It is not just a keychain.”

“Clearly.”

“It is from the anniversary set.”

“I know.”

“And it’s the version with the alternate costume.”

“I can see that.”

“And the tiny symbol on the back is actually from episode seven, not episode eight, which means whoever designed this knew what they were doing, because most people confuse those two episodes even though the emotional context is completely different.”

For the first time since you had walked into the ED, Parker smiled.

It was not a big smile. It was barely even a smile, honestly. More like the corner of her mouth gave up resisting gravity in the opposite direction for half a second. But it was enough.

Enough for Abbott to stare. Enough for Lena to glance between the two of you with interest. Enough for Cruz to mouth, What the hell? to Shen across the desk.

You did not notice any of it. You were too busy looking at Parker like she had just revealed herself to be the only other person in the hospital with taste.

“You’ve seen the show?” you asked.

“No.”

Your excitement stumbled. “You haven’t?”

“No.”

“But you recognized the keychain.”

“Yes.”

“So you know the merch, but you haven’t seen the show?”

“Yes.”

You narrowed your eyes. “That is suspicious.”

“It’s not suspicious.”

“It’s extremely suspicious.”

“I collect limited releases.”

You stared at her. Parker stared back, perfectly composed.

“Limited releases,” you repeated.

“Yes.”

“Of anything?”

“Mostly.”

“That is somehow nerdier than if you just watched the show.”

From behind the desk, Abbott made a soft choking sound that might have been a laugh trying to escape and getting strangled halfway up. Parker glanced over once, flatly, and Abbott immediately became very interested in the chart in front of him.

You realized, belatedly, that you had just called an attending nerdy on your first night in the emergency department. Your stomach dropped.

“I’m so sorry,” you rushed out. “That was not professional. I didn’t mean—well, I did mean it, but not in a disrespectful way. More in a very impressed and slightly confused way. I’m going to stop talking now.”

Parker looked at you for a beat too long.

Then she said, “Don’t.”

You blinked. “Don’t… stop talking?”

“You were explaining episode seven.”

“Oh.” Your fingers tightened around the badge reel. “Right. Okay. So episode seven is actually where the whole thing shifts because up until then you think the main conflict is external, but it’s not. It’s about identity and memory and whether you can still be yourself if everyone around you only recognizes the version of you they need you to be—”

Lena slowly lowered her hand from where she had been pointing toward the medication room. Cruz had abandoned the drawer completely. Shen, who had only meant to pause for a second, remained paused and Abbott leaned back in his chair, watching Parker Ellis—Parker, who treated casual conversation like an unnecessary invasive procedure—stand in the middle of the nurses’ station and listen to a brand-new med student explain fictional lore with total, unwavering attention.

Parker did not interrupt you. She did not check her watch. She did not look around for an escape route. She simply stood there, arms loosely crossed, eyes on you, occasionally asking a short question that somehow proved she had actually been following every word.

“And the symbol?” she asked.

You lit up again. “Exactly! The symbol is the whole point.”

Abbott looked at Lena. Lena looked at Abbott.

Cruz whispered, “Are we all seeing this?” Shen whispered back, “I think so.”

Santos, who had picked up a double and was already regretting every choice that had led her there, rounded the corner with a stack of discharge papers and stopped dead. “Why is Parker talking to the med student?” she asked.

Nobody answered. Mostly because nobody knew.

By the end of the shift, you had survived two laceration repairs, one patient who called you “sweetheart” until Parker appeared beside you and corrected him without raising her voice, three cups of terrible coffee, and one near-death experience involving a supply closet door you opened directly into your own forehead.

You had also somehow ended up in Parker’s orbit. Not intentionally. At least, not at first. She was just there.

When Lena sent you to observe a patient evaluation, Parker was the one doing it. When Abbott asked someone to grab you before a trauma came in, Parker was already pointing you toward gloves and telling you where to stand. When you forgot where the clean blankets were, Parker walked past and said, “Second left, bottom shelf,” without even slowing down.

It was not warm, exactly. Parker was not warm in any obvious way. She did not fuss or soften her voice or make things easy just because you were new. She still expected you to keep up, still corrected you when you missed something, still gave you that unreadable look when you answered a question too quickly and not carefully enough.

But she also noticed.

She noticed when you were overwhelmed and sent you to get water before you could embarrass yourself by swaying in front of a patient. She noticed when your hands were shaking after your first code and quietly gave you a task simple enough to anchor yourself to. She noticed when your badge reel got caught on a drawer handle and untangled it before you accidentally yanked the whole thing off your scrub top.

And every now and then, in between blood work and imaging orders and the constant restless motion of the ED, she would ask something that made your brain short-circuit.

“So episode seven,” she said two weeks later, while washing her hands at the sink beside you. “That’s the one with the memory reveal?”

You almost dropped the paper towel dispenser key Lena had trusted you with. “You remember that?”

Parker looked mildly offended. “You talked for twelve minutes.”

“You timed me?”

“No.”

“You absolutely timed me.”

“I estimated.”

“That’s worse.”

She shrugged, drying her hands. “Was I wrong?”

You bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from smiling too obviously. “No.”

“Then keep going.”

So you did.

You told her about the memory reveal, then the cast interview, then the theory that had been floating around fan spaces for years. Parker listened while checking a medication order. She listened while walking with you to the vending machines. She listened while you both stood in the break room at three in the morning, the hospital humming around you, your untouched coffee going lukewarm in your hands because you were too busy explaining why one line of dialogue had changed the entire interpretation of a character arc.

Somewhere between those conversations, between exhausted midnight coffees and stolen moments beside supply carts, Parker stopped being the intimidating attending who had recognized your keychain and became Parker. Just Parker.

The person who remembered your favourite character even though she still refused to watch the show.

The person who sent you a link to a merch restock at two in the afternoon with no message except, This yours?

The person who once showed up to shift with a tiny enamel pin in her palm and said, “Found it,” like she had not spent actual time tracking down something you had mentioned once while half-asleep.

The person who kissed you for the first time outside the hospital after a shift that had left you both quiet and wrung out, her thumb resting gently against your jaw, her expression calm but her eyes careful, as if even then she was watching for the smallest sign that you wanted her to stop.

You did not want her to stop.

After that, it became both easier and more complicated. At work, nothing changed. Or at least, nothing obvious changed.

Parker was still Parker. She still had the social patience of a locked door. She still gave Abbott a deadpan stare whenever he tried to joke his way out of paperwork. She still told Santos, “No,” before she even finished asking for favours. She still made Cruz roll his eyes at least four times a night and could reduce an overconfident intern to humble silence with one raised eyebrow.

But with you, she softened in increments so small nobody should have noticed them. Nobody should have noticed the way she always left the last decent coffee pod for you. Nobody should have noticed how she angled her body toward you when you spoke. Nobody should have noticed that when the ED got too loud, Parker somehow always found a reason to send you somewhere quieter for thirty seconds.

Nobody should have noticed.

Unfortunately, the night crew noticed everything.

“I think she adopted you,” Shen said one night, as you both restocked gloves.

You frowned. “Who?”

“Parker.”

You shoved a stack of mediums into place and tried very hard to keep your face neutral. “She did not adopt me.”

“She definitely adopted you.”

“That’s a weird thing to say.”

“It’s a weird thing to watch.”

You turned to him slowly. “What does that mean?”

Shen shrugged, too casual. “She doesn’t glare at you.”

“She glares at me all the time.”

“No. She looks at you. Different thing.”

You were saved from answering by Cruz calling for help from trauma two, and you spent the next thirty minutes convincing yourself that Shen was just observant in the annoying way all good doctors were.

Then, an hour later, Abbott caught Parker handing you a granola bar. He stared. Parker stared back. You took the granola bar and pretended this was very normal.

Abbott pointed at it. “Where did that come from?”

“My pocket,” Parker said.

“You carry snacks now?”

“No.”

“You just had that?”

“Yes.”

“For who?”

Parker’s face went blank in the way it did when she had decided she was finished with a conversation. “For people with low blood sugar.”

Abbott looked at you. You looked at the granola bar. Parker walked away. Cruz appeared at Abbott’s shoulder, eyes narrowed. “That was weird, right?”

Abbott nodded slowly. “Very.”

“It’s like watching a wolf feed a baby deer.”

“Don’t say that where HR can hear you.”

By the time the trailer dropped, you and Parker had been dating for three months. Nobody knew. At least, you were pretty sure nobody knew.

The thing about dating Parker was that she did not become a different person. She did not suddenly turn sweet in a way that felt false, did not start using pet names in public, did not drape herself over you or make a show of affection in places where people could see.

Parker’s love was quieter than that. It lived in the details. In the spare hoodie that appeared in her car because you always forgot one. In the way she learned your takeout order without asking twice. In the fact that she never once made you feel silly for caring too much about fictional worlds and limited-edition merchandise and characters that felt real enough to hurt.

So when the trailer dropped during the slowest stretch of a Tuesday night shift, you forgot where you were.

Completely.

You had been standing near the nurses’ station, trying to update a patient note while your phone buzzed in your pocket once, then twice, then so many times in a row that you knew something had happened. Your fandom group chat only became that unhinged in very specific circumstances: a casting announcement, a cancellation scare, a surprise merch drop, or a trailer.

You checked your phone. Your heart stopped. Then restarted somewhere in your throat.

“Oh my God.”

Lena glanced over. “Everything okay?”

You did not answer. Your thumbs moved faster than your thoughts. The trailer thumbnail stared back at you, dramatic and glossy and real after months of rumours. You pressed play for exactly three seconds before realising you could not process this alone.

You looked up.

Across the station, Parker was charting beside Abbott, her face set in its usual expression of quiet irritation as Santos explained something with too many hand gestures.

“So I’m just saying,” Santos continued, “technically, if the patient said he swallowed one battery, but the girlfriend says she saw him with three—”

“Order imaging,” Parker said without looking at her.

“I did.”

“Then why are you still talking?”

Santos blinked. “Because I was providing context.”

“You provided it.”

Abbott snorted. Parker’s jaw tightened.

You moved before you could overthink it, crossing the station with your phone clutched in one hand. “Parker.”

Her head lifted immediately. Not slowly. Not with annoyance. Immediately.

“What happened?”

“The trailer dropped.”

Parker stared at you for half a second. Then, with complete seriousness, she said, “The trailer?”

You nodded, eyes wide. “The trailer,” you repeated.

Something shifted in her expression. Recognition, not of the trailer itself, but of your excitement. Of the scale of it. Of what it meant that you had come to her first. She turned away from her computer. Abbott’s typing slowed. Santos looked between you. “Trailer for what?”

Neither of you answered.

You stepped closer, lowering your voice like the two of you were discussing test results instead of television. “I haven’t watched it properly yet. I saw three seconds and paused because I think the opening shot is the archive room.”

Parker frowned slightly. “The archive room was destroyed.”

Your mouth fell open.

Abbott stopped typing completely. Cruz, who had just arrived at the desk with a stack of labs, froze. Lena looked up from a chart. Shen, passing behind them, slowed to a halt.

You stared at Parker with open adoration. “You remember that?”

“You complained about it for two weeks.”

“Because it mattered.”

“I know.”

“You said that like you actually know.”

“You explained the structural importance of the archive room.”

“I did.”

“Twice.”

“Because the first time you were half-asleep.”

“I was awake.”

“You had your eyes closed.”

“I was listening.”

You pressed a hand over your chest. “This is why I like you.”

The sentence came out too naturally. Too softly. Too honestly. For half a second, the air around the desk changed. Parker did not react in any dramatic way. She did not look startled. She did not look panicked. She simply held your gaze, mouth relaxing at one corner in that almost-smile you had learned to recognize as something private.

“I know,” she said.

Cruz’s eyebrows shot up. Abbott leaned back in his chair. Santos looked personally betrayed by the fact that she was clearly missing several chapters of context.

You, blissfully unaware of the way the entire night crew had started watching, leaned your hip against the edge of the desk and held your phone between you and Parker. “Okay, so look. This is the opening frame. That is absolutely the archive room, right?”

Parker leaned in. Actually leaned in. Her shoulder nearly brushed yours as she studied the screen with the kind of concentration most people reserved for scans and abnormal labs.

“Could be a reconstruction,” she said.

You gasped. “That’s what I thought!”

“Or a memory sequence.”

You pointed at her with your phone. “Don’t do that.”

“What?”

“Casually drop a good theory like you haven’t been pretending not to care for months.”

“I don’t care.”

“You care a little.”

“I care that you care.”

That should have been nothing. It was not nothing. It landed softly between you, almost hidden beneath the noise of the ED, beneath the beeping monitors and distant voices and the squeak of Santos shifting her weight because she was apparently incapable of standing still. But you heard it, and Parker knew you heard it, and for one small moment the hospital seemed to narrow down to the two of you and the glow of your phone screen.

Then Cruz whispered, “What did she just say?”

Abbott whispered back, “I don’t know, but I’m uncomfortable.”

Lena, who looked far more delighted than uncomfortable, whispered, “I think it’s sweet.”

Santos leaned toward Shen. “Has Parker always been able to do that?”

“Do what?”

“Listen.”

Shen shook his head slowly. “Not to us.”

You started the trailer again, keeping the volume low enough that you had to lean closer to Parker for both of you to hear. The first few seconds played, dramatic music swelling from your phone speaker. You paused every few frames to explain something, rewinding when Parker asked a question, zooming in on background details that would have meant absolutely nothing to anyone else.

Parker followed all of it.

Not with the glazed patience of someone waiting for their turn to speak, but with real attention. She asked why one character’s jacket being a different colour mattered. She asked whether the symbol on the wall was the same one from your keychain. She asked if the actor in the final shot was the one you had sworn could not come back unless the writers were undoing an entire season of development.

You answered every question with increasing enthusiasm. The more you talked, the softer Parker became. Not obviously. Never obviously. But it was there in the way her shoulders loosened, in the way she stopped pretending to chart, in the way her eyes stayed on your face more than the phone because she seemed less interested in the trailer than in the way you looked while explaining it.

Around you, the department continued moving, but the nurses’ station had become a small island of stunned witnesses. Abbott stared like he was watching a rare medical anomaly. Lena rested her chin in her hand. Cruz looked between you and Parker with the intensity of someone solving a mystery. Shen seemed quietly vindicated. Santos looked offended.

“I asked her about my patient,” Santos muttered, “and she told me to stop talking.”

“She did not tell you to stop talking,” Lena said.

“She said, ‘Why are you still talking?’ That is worse.”

Abbott nodded. “It is more efficient.”

Santos pointed toward Parker. “But look at her. She’s letting the med student explain costume symbolism.”

“Character symbolism,” you corrected automatically, without looking away from your phone.

Everyone went silent. Slowly, you looked up. Five faces stared back at you.

Parker looked up too, and whatever softness had been there a second ago vanished behind a flat, dangerous calm.

“Do none of you have patients?” she asked.

The spell broke instantly.

Abbott turned back to his computer with suspicious speed. Cruz lifted the labs and pretended he had been reading them the entire time. Lena smiled into her chart. Shen coughed. Santos raised both hands.

“I’m going,” she said. “I am going. I just want it noted that this is strange.”

“It’s noted,” Abbott said.

“By who?”

“Everyone.”

You felt heat crawl up your neck. “Was I being too loud?”

“No,” Parker said immediately.

Cruz made a tiny sound. Parker’s eyes flicked toward him. Cruz stopped.

You lowered your phone, suddenly self-conscious. “Sorry. I know I kind of ramble when I get excited.”

Parker looked back at you. Her face was calm, but her voice, when she spoke, was quieter than before.

“I know.”

You let out a nervous little laugh. “That’s not very reassuring.”

“It wasn’t criticism.”

“No?”

“No.”

Your fingers tightened around your phone. “Does it bother you?”

Parker held your gaze like the answer was the easiest thing in the world.

“No.”

You searched her face, waiting for the joke, the teasing edge, the dry follow-up that would let you both move on without making it too tender. It did not come. Instead, Parker said, “You get excited. I like listening.”

The words were simple. Matter-of-fact. So Parker that they almost sounded clinical. And still, they made your heart ache.

You looked at Parker and forgot, again, that you were standing in the middle of the ED.

“Okay,” you said softly.

Parker nodded once, as if that settled it.

Then a call came in over the radio, pulling everyone back into motion. The incoming trauma scattered the station with practiced urgency, and the moment folded itself away into the rhythm of the hospital. Parker straightened, all focus again, already reaching for gloves. You moved with her automatically, shoving your phone into your pocket, the trailer forgotten for now beneath the rush of work.

But as Parker stepped past you, you noticed the collar of her scrub top had folded awkwardly beneath her jacket.

Without thinking, you reached out.

“Wait,” you said, catching the edge of the fabric.

Parker stopped.

You smoothed the collar down with quick, familiar fingers, then patted it once. “There.”

Parker glanced at you.

“Thanks,” she said.

Then, so briefly you almost missed it, her fingers brushed your wrist.

Not enough to be dramatic. Not enough to be a declaration. Just enough to be intimate. Just enough to be known.

Then she was gone, heading toward the trauma, already asking for vitals, already back to being Dr. Parker Ellis, unreadable and sharp and impossible to distract.

You turned back toward the desk, still half-smiling.

The remaining night crew was staring at you.

This time, you noticed.

“What?” you asked.

Lena pressed her lips together.

Shen looked at the ceiling.

Santos stared at you like you had just calmly performed a magic trick in front of her and refused to explain it.

“You and Parker,” Abbott said slowly, from several feet away.

Your stomach dropped.

“What about me and Parker?”

Cruz pointed vaguely between you and the trauma bay. “That.”

“That what?”

“The collar,” Santos said.

You blinked. “Her collar was folded.”

“So naturally you fixed it.”

“Yes?”

“And naturally she let you.”

You frowned. “Why wouldn’t she?”

Nobody answered right away. That was when it hit you. The trailer. The questions. The leaning in. The I like listening. The wrist touch.

The fact that none of those things looked normal to people who did not know that Parker had kissed you in parking lots and cooked you breakfast after night shifts and kept a limited-edition keychain you had given her tucked safely beside her keys.

Your face went hot.

“Oh,” you said.

Lena smiled. “Yeah.”

You opened your mouth, closed it, then looked toward the trauma bay like Parker might somehow rescue you from a situation she had absolutely helped create.

Santos crossed her arms. “Since when?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“That was terrible,” Cruz said.

“Awful,” Abbott agreed.

Shen nodded. “No one believed that.”

You lifted your chin, attempting dignity despite the fact that your entire face was probably glowing. “I am going to check on my patient.”

“You do that,” Lena said, still smiling.

You walked away as calmly as possible. Which was to say, not very calmly at all.

Behind you, Santos whispered, “Since when?”

Abbott sighed. “Apparently long enough for Parker to know lore.”

“That doesn’t answer the question.”

“It answers several questions.”

Across the ED, Parker glanced back just once, catching your eye from the trauma bay doors.

Her expression did not change. But yours did. You smiled despite yourself. Parker’s almost-smile appeared for half a second before she turned away again.

And the night crew, watching from the station, finally understood the one thing you and Parker had somehow failed to hide.

Parker had not adopted the med student.

"Thanks, maybe later I'm not really hungry."

Jack's head instantly lifts to look at you, with his brows raised. You already know what he's going to say. Something you've heard before, so you speak before he says anything.

"I promise I'll eat later. I just really want a shower right now."

Jack relaxes, but you can tell he won't let it slip your mind. "Promise? Because the 2 protein bars you had during your shift aren't anywhere near enough food."

You nod, going to where he was sitting on his couch. You bend over slightly, just enough to press your lips against his. His hands go to your hips as he kisses you back. When you pull away, you nod. "I promise. Just really want a shower first."

His hand rubs your waist. "Alright, honey."

You leave the living room and go to his bedroom. Grabbing one of his shirts out of his dresser and the extra pair of underwear you keep in your bag for your shift. After Dennis' first day, you've always kept a set or two of a change of clothes, just to be safe.

You enter his en suite bathroom and set your clothes down on the counter, and turning on the shower. You take off your clothes, leaving them on the floor, then step into the shower.

Instantly feeling refreshed as the hot water pours down and hits your body. Your eyes close as you stand underneath his showerhead. Just letting the water run over you for a bit first. You're so relaxed that you don't notice Jack has entered the bathroom until you hear the bathroom door close behind him.

You look through the glass door and watch as Jack wheels his wheelchair further into the bathroom. "Can I join?" He asks quietly in his familiar low voice.

You nod, "Yeah. Was hoping you would, honestly."

He smiles as he takes off his shirt and pants. You watch, shamelessly taking in his attractive body. His large chest and biceps. The freckles that decorate along his skin.

"Enjoying the view?" His voice breaks you out of your trance of admiring him. You step back, towards the front of the show, to give him room to transfer from his wheelchair to his shower bench. You stay standing near the front, but after Jack is sitting on the bench, he motions for you to come closer.

You listen, taking a few steps closer to the bench until his hands land on your hips, and he pulls you closer to him until you're sitting on his thigh. He dips his head against your shoulder as you play with the curls at the back of his neck.

"Well, it was kinda hard not to enjoy it. It's a pretty hot view."

That earns a laugh from him. He presses a few kisses along your jaw and neck. "My view isn't too bad either." Jack's hands run along your body, groping and squeezing your tits in his large hands.

You head tilts back over his shoulder, letting out a moan.

"Jack."

You turn your head until his lips are in front of you. You hold his scruffy jaw and press your lips against his.

"You know." You start, saying in between kisses, before stopping to finish your sentence. "I didn't realize this was a shower bench when I first used your shower." You admit as he continues to caress your body.

Jack's head tilts, both amused and confused. "Oh yeah? What'd you think it was?" He asks.

You plant another kiss on his jaw before laughing. "Don't laugh at me. But I thought it was a really long shelf."

Of course, though he does, you're met with a laugh. "A really long shelf? Seriously?" He cracks another laugh as his hands move across your thighs. "Such a shame you're only book smarts and not street smarts, huh? I mean getting through med school. A breeze. Recognizing a shower bench, though, thats a struggle."

"It's dark in here! And I just didn't realize what it was the first few times."

His lips go to yours, and he kisses you again. His hand travels from your inner thigh towards your pussy. His fingers rub over your cit, then move along your folds before slowly sliding his index and middle finger inside you. He moves his fingers inside you. The hot water from the showerhead adds to your wetness. His fingers move easily in and out of you.

Your lips move against his as he continues fucking you with his fingers. You break the kiss, letting out a few hushed whines and moans of pleasure.

"Jack. Need you in me. Please." You beg.

"What do you want?" He asks, still moving his finger inside you.

"Jack," You whine because you know he knows what you want.

"Say it." he directs quietly.

"I want your cock in me." You say breathlessly. "Please"

He carefully removes his fingers from you and presses a kiss to your temple. "See, that wasn't so hard wasn't?"

An annoyed groan leaves your lips. "You're so annoying."

Jack's eyebrows raise, faking offense. "You're doing a shitty job of convincing me to fuck you, just so you kn-"

You take his cock into your hands, and stroke it up and down, causing him to cut himself off with a moan. You move your hands up and down his shaft. Slowly at first, but gradually increasing your speed. Jack's head tilts over your shoulder as you continue to jerk him off, rubbing his tip with your thumb.

His hand goes over your stopping it. "Sweetheart, I'm in my 50s, and if I cum now, then I'm down for the count."

You let out a small laugh. "I don't know, I think you could manage." You start to move your hand again, and he groans, stopping your hand with his hands once again.

"Baby." He shifts your weight on his lap a bit. "Trust me, I know my limits. 20 years ago maybe. But today, yeah, I'd be down for the count. "

A laugh escapes you. A part of you wants to make him cum, just to annoy him. But the other part knows that he is right.

"You know, they make these little pills. They might be helpful with your situation, as a doctor I'm sure you're familiar with it, Vi-"

He gently pinches your ass to shut you up, and before you can respond, he presses a rushed and aggressive kiss, further shutting you up. His fingers skim across your back and pull you deeper into him. As your lips are on his, he gently lifts your hips, just enough for you to sink onto his cock.

The feeling of him inside you causes you to moan against his lips. You carefully move your hips, rolling them against his.

"Fuck honey, you feel so good," Jack mutters in between kissing your lips.

You moan against his lips as he continues to move inside you. His hand slips between your thighs and rubs your clit.

"Jack…" you moan again, burying your head against his neck.

He whispers your name, caressing your back softly while fucking into you.

"You take me so well, sweetheart. Such a good girl for me, baby." He praises you. His hand moves from your back up to the back of your head that's still buried in the side of his neck, cradling it.

The mix of his cock filling you, his soft low voice praising you, and his thumb rubbing along your clit reduces you to nothing more than a mess of whimpers, moans, and cries of his name.

You continue riding him, while the shower head pours over both of your bodies. Moving your hips with his, chasing your release until it washes over you and your cuming on his cock. Nails digging into Jack's back as he talks you through it.

"There you go, baby. Cum for me." His low voice comforts you as you come down from your release.

His own orgasm happens not too long after yours; he cums inside you with a few moans. His hands squeeze your waist. Both of you are breathing hard.

He rubs your back a bit before reaching over and grabbing his shower gel. "You ready to actually get clean now?"

You think about it. "Can we sit here for a bit first?"

Every summer, since you were a little girl, you went for a beach trip with your mom and her best friend, Cassie. 

It was nice to have a girls trip and get a little time away from your father. You loved him, there’s no doubt there, but you also liked spending time with your mom and her friend. 

This year, you were most excited. You couldn’t really pinpoint the exact reason why. Maybe it was because you’d been really pent up with school and work and you just needed this. 

You liked Cassie. A lot. 

Even before you turned eighteen. Before you came out. Before you started having dreams and fantasies about your mothers best friend. 

She was supposed to be like an aunt to you. But she was anything but. 

Your mom never noticed, thank God, that would be an awkward conversation, but you were scared she would over this trip. The last time you visited the hospital and saw Cassie, your cheeks were bright red the entire time. Your hands shook more than they did on your first day of college. 

And that says a lot. 

You weren’t stupid. You knew that the feelings meant, the sexual tension, the way her cheeks also flushed just slightly. 

You knew you had a crush on your mothers best friend. 

What would you do with that information? You had no clue. 

But you were going to find out over this trip. 

As you were packing a few last minute things, as you’re leaving tomorrow morning, you receive a message through the thread with Cassie and your mom. 

Looks like I won’t be joining for the first part of the trip. 

You let out a disappointed sigh. 

Of course this would happen to you. You couldn’t tell if the newfound weight on your chest was nervousness or excitement. You were upset your mom wouldn’t be with you for the first part of the week. 

But you were also exhilarated. 

Four whole days with Cassie all to yourself? What would you do? 

Your smirk deepens as you throw your phone onto the bed, zipping your suitcase and placing it by the door. 

You lay back onto the bed, covering your face with your hands, feeling the heat beneath them. 

Cassie, on the other hand, told Dana for weeks and weeks the trip was coming up. Dana only gave her a side glance, rolled her eyes, straightened her posture, let out a simple, ‘i got it, hun.’ 

It was like telling a toddler to do something. They never did it.

Cassie only huffed out a small laugh each time, a shake of her head. She knew this was how the trip would eventually end up. You and her for the first part of the week. 

It made a heat pool in her stomach, made a shudder leave her lips each time it crossed her mind. It was the highlight of her midnight fantasies—ones that always involved you, of course—and she couldn’t rid the thought from her mind. 

She kind of.. wanted Dana to forget. So she stopped reminding her, only reminding her the day before their departure.

Sure, it wasn’t the most ideal plan, kind of messed up if you ask her, but she didn’t really care. 

Dana only cursed under her breath, only half blamed Cassie, checked the schedule. 

Thankfully, her shifts were mostly in the beginning of the week. So if she could get her Saturday shift covered, she could make the second half work. 

She immediately texted Lena, begging and pleading to take her shift and cover way over her shift time, promising she’ll make it up to her as soon as she gets back. 

Lena shrugged like it was nothing, agreed to it, but held her to her word. 

So that’s how you ended up in Cassie’s blue toyota early that morning, snacks and drinks packed in the back seat, radio all yours. 

This was a dream of yours. You’d thought about this kind of thing happening for years on end, hand stuffed under your shorts, music playing softly in the back to drown out your sounds. 

But now that it was actually happening? 

You were nervous as hell. You nervously picked at a scab on the side of your leg that was out of Cassie’s sight, angled your body towards the window so you only caught a glimpse of Cassie’s hair if she moved in a certain direction, and your heart raced out of your chest at a speed you weren’t sure was healthy. 

You played a random playlist out of your music app, something generic enough that you thought Cassie might enjoy as well. 

You tried to even out your breathing enough that Cassie wouldn’t question the rapid rise and fall of your chest. 

It wasn’t as easy as it seemed. 

Thankfully, the beach you were going to was only about two hours from your house, and you were about halfway there. 

“How’s school?” She asks, breaking the silence between the two of you. 

Your chest clenches, and you swear at whatever made her start speaking to you. Because you were known to say stupid things around attractive people. And Cassie was unfairly attractive. 

You wish she could’ve held out only another hour. You wanted to talk to her— you did, but you were scared you’d say something you didn’t mean. And if you did, you had nowhere to go. 

Unless you swing the door open now and just jump out. But that wasn’t reasonable. You were an adult, with adult feelings, and you could handle it. You were reasonable. 

God, if your mother knew what was going through your head over her long time friend, she’d probably lose it. She’d make fun of you, but then her face would turn serious and she’d—

“You okay?” She looks at you with so much concern, it makes your heart swell three sizes. 

“Yeah, sorry.” You shake your head, bite your nail, and look back to the window. “It’s good. School, I mean.” 

“I know what you mean.” She chuckles, a bright grin on her face, one that usually makes you break out into a matching one. But right now you could barely focus on the words she was saying. 

“Okay.” You breathe out, “Sorry.” 

“There’s nothing to be sorry for.” She shakes her head. “You hungry? I got your favorite.” 

She reaches back into the backseat to hand you a bag of chips, and sure enough, they are your favorites. Favorite brand, too. 

“Uh..” You smile down at the bag like a stupid idiot, looking back up at her with your dopey smile. “Thanks.” 

“Of course. Only the best for you.” You see her wink at the last second, so quickly you almost miss it, so quick you aren’t sure if it actually happened or if you imagined it. 

“I also got you a soda.” She reaches back into the cup holder, handing you the bottle. 

You clear your throat, “How’s the hospital?” 

“I bet you hear a lot about that through your mom.” She looks at you from the side, face tilted towards the road, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the middle console. 

“Not as much as you would think.” The conversation flows more freely now, and you’re thankful for that. 

“Well..” She licks her lips, and you watch the way her throat constricts as she swallows. You wonder if it’s a nervous habit or if it’s simply because her throat is dry. “It’s been good. You know, the usual.” 

“What’s that like for you?” You turn your body towards her now. 

“That’s kind of deep, don’t you think?” She turns towards you for only a second before turning back towards the road. 

“It doesn’t have to be.” To Cassie, your voice visibly softens. But if anyone asked you, you’d say your throat got suddenly dry. Or that she was imagining things. 

“I don’t know.. there’s the usual idiots who drink too much, make stupid decisions.” She shrugs. “And we have to take care of them.” 

You can tell she wants to say more, but you don’t push her further. You let her take her time. If she wanted you to know, she’d tell you. 

Of course you knew of her past, she shared stories to you about it freely on your outings with your mom. And she’d made off handed jokes before. But you wondered how deep her past was curated into her veins. 

You wondered if on the hard days she thought about it. Or when she finally got shared custody of her son.. what went through her mind. 

But that.. that was deep. 

And definitely not a car conversation. Or an anytime conversation. Not between Cassie and you. 

She probably never told anyone that kind of thing before. And you wouldn’t be the first. In fact, you’d probably be the last she’d admit that kind of thing to. 

You reach forward and turn the music up. You don’t want her to keep talking. It’s selfish, but you were afraid of what else you might say if you opened your mouth back up. 

You’d be very disappointed if you ruined the trip before it truly began. It would be awkward. 

Even more so if it made things so uncomfortably awkward between the two of you that you couldn’t even form a full sentence around her. Imagine what your mom would think then. 

You finally arrive at the beach house forty-five minutes later. It felt way longer than it should’ve, the tension so thick you couldn’t cut it with a knife. 

Cassie helps carry your bags in, even though you told her multiple times she didn’t have to. She only brushed you off and continued to carry things into the house. 

As she carries the bags in, you sit on the couch, watching the way her biceps bulge in the process. 

You shouldn’t watch the way you are. It was risky. Especially if Cassie happened to look up even an inch to see you staring. 

She brushes a piece of hair out of her face before looking over to you. 

Thankfully, you’re staring at the ground now instead of watching her. Nice save, you internally roll your eyes. 

“I just have to grab my last bag.” She says to no one in particular. 

You let out a breath of air after she walks back out of the house. You turn on the couch so you’re facing the television on the wall. Anywhere but in Cassie’s direction. 

You hear her huff out a breath as she brings her last bag in, brush imaginary dust off her hands, pull out her phone. Her footsteps become closer and she sits down on the couch beside you. 

“What do you want to do today?” She looks at you, phone forgotten in her hand. 

“I figured we could just hang out. I mean.. I don’t wanna tire you out already.” You chuckle softly. “You did all of the driving and you’re probably tired.” 

“No. I’m okay.” She gives you a reassuring smile. “I know you want to go to the beach.” 

“Well.. obviously.” You shrug sheepishly, carefully avoiding her eyes, looking out the window beside her bed at the clear view of the ocean. “But I can wait until tomorrow. I have patience.” 

“Hmm.” Cassie holds her lip between her teeth pensively. “Well, we better get a move on, huh?” 

She smacks her legs and stands up with a sigh, holding a hand out for you to take. She stares pointedly at her hand until you take it, letting her pull you up, seeing just how much strength her arms actually hold. 

And to say you aren’t flustered is a lie. 

“How about we settle into the rooms first?” She watches you carefully as you speak, moving towards the hallways that lead to the bedrooms. “Then we’ll go from there.” 

She lets out a scoff.

“I know I’m old, but I’m not that old, sweetheart.” She crosses her arms over her chest and leans against the wall in the hallway. “I only drove two hours. I can handle a beach day.” 

“Are you sure?” You look concerned, making Cassie laugh again. 

“Absolutely.” She nods. “Let’s unpack our clothes and we can change into our bathing suits.” 

“You’re the best.” You jump with excitement, pulling her into a surprise hug. It takes her a second to catch up, but she reaches an arm around you. 

The nervousness from earlier has surprisingly disappeared, replaced with excitement. 

“I wouldn’t go that far.” She pats your back once before you pull away. 

“Oh, Cassie Mckay, don’t belittle yourself.” You shake your head, brows pulled together in a joking manner. “You’re absolutely amazing.” 

“Okay.” She nods with a laugh. “I’ll bring your bags to your door.” 

“I can do it.” You make a step towards the other end of the hallway, where you came from, but Cassie holds her hand out. 

“I’ll do it.” She says it more sternly than she’d said anything else before, and you immediately take a step back. You think if she spoke like that all the time, that you’d probably do just about anything she said. “Go make yourself look pretty.” 

That takes all of the air out of your chest, and suddenly you’re nervous all over again. You turn on your heel quickly before she gets a look at the crimson red on your cheeks. 

You leave the door only slightly cracked, making your way towards your bathroom to check your reflection.

You looked better than you’d imagined considering the windows were down the entire way here. You run your fingers through your hair to smoothen out the flyaways as best as you can, but you think you’re probably better off waiting for your bag. 

You hear rustling in the hallway and a drop of a bag. 

“The first of many.” You hear from the hallway. 

Yeah, you probably way overpacked, but you didn’t care. You needed options. 

You bring the bag inside the room, beginning to unpack your clothes, leaving the bathing suit you planned to wear on your bed. 

Once everything’s away, you slide the bag into the

corner and work on some of the other bags. Shoes, makeup, hair products, other bathroom stuff. 

Soon enough, you’re sliding your bathing suit on, effortlessly tying it in the back. Next, you slide on your bathing suit cover up. 

Lastly, you brush your hair, sliding the brush through your knotted hair, before throwing it up in a messy updo. 

“Hey, are you almost ready?” Cassie leans her head into the bathroom, and you turn towards her with a nod. 

She lingers for a moment, taking in your bathing suit, wondering what she had to do or who she had to kiss up to to be the one to take it off of you. 

If it was her way, you wouldn’t be making it to the beach for another hour or two, if at all. 

She meets you in the living room only a minute later, holding the front door open for you. 

The beach is within walking distance, so the two of you make the short trip over there. Once it becomes too hard to walk on the sand, you lean down to take your shoes off, letting the sand seep between your toes. 

“God, I missed this.” You groan. 

“Me too.” Cassie says a little breathlessly, but you pass it off as all the cardio you were doing right now. 

“Kinda bummed my mom isn’t here, though.” You look over at her, squinting from the sun. 

“Yeah.” She shrugs one shoulder. “But we’ll make the best of it. We won’t have fun if we sit around sulking. The least we can do is enjoy it before your mom starts nagging us.” 

You laugh at her joke, because she isn’t wrong. 

You lay your towel down, apply sunscreen to the parts you can reach. You’re ready to give up on your back before Cassie takes the bottle from your hand, squeezes a little onto her palms, and rubs it all over your back without question. 

You smile cheesily over at her, but she only shrugs. 

“I don’t need you getting sun poisoning.” She lifts her eyebrows. “Your mom would definitely kill me.” 

“True.” It’s your turn to rub the sun screen on her back now. “We can’t let that happen. I like you too much.” There’s a silence that cascades over the two of you. “But so does she.” 

“Good to know.” She smirks over at you, laying back on her chair. 

Then you’re sitting there wondering whether she was talking about you, or your mom. 

The next morning you wake up way too sunburnt, sore, and extremely tired. 

The first thing you notice is the smell of coffee. The second thing you notice is how hot you are. And sticky. 

You groan and shut your eyes again, mentally ignoring the very vivid dream you woke up from halfway through the night. 

You sit up with a huff, the sunlight too bright to enjoy another twenty minutes of sleep. You grab clothes for after your very cold shower, and make your way to your bathroom. 

You turn the water as cold as it will get and step inside. You immediately shiver from the vast difference between the water and the hot room you were just in. 

The water doesn’t help the heat still pooling low in your stomach, and neither do the random flashes of your dream. 

You lean your head against the cool tile, biting the inside of your cheek. 

Your hand takes a mind of its own, trailing down your stomach before reaching your aching clit, circling it a few times. 

A small moan leaves your lips, and you're thankful for the running water. Not that you think Cassie would be standing inside your room for any reason. Or that you could hear anything from the kitchen. 

You lean your head back, the cool water contrasting with your stinging cheeks. 

You slide your finger down your slit a few times before sinking one into your tight pussy, shuddering at the feeling. Your thumb comes up to rub at your clit slowly, building the release you’re desperately craving. 

You bite your lip to hide the loud moan threatening to spill from your lips. 

“Hey, sweetheart?” Cassie’s voice breaks through the sound of running water, making your cunt tighten only slightly. 

For whatever sick reasons, it makes you slide a second finger in, curling them perfectly, biting down on your fist. 

“Y— yeah?” You say breathlessly, hoping Cassie can’t tell from out there. 

“Do you want to go get some breakfast?” She pauses. “Or I guess brunch, now.” 

“Yeah.” You moan, coming dangerously close to breaking with Cassie on the other side of the sliding glass. 

“Okay.” She says warily. “Are you okay in there?” 

“Fine.” You say confidently, pulsing around your fingers, on the brink of your orgasm. 

“Okay. Meet me out here when you’re ready.” You hear the door shut again, and your other hand comes out to find stability on the wall, coming apart on your hand. 

You finger yourself through the rest of your orgasm, letting out a content sigh when you pull your fingers out, rinsing them under the shower head. 

You continue on with your shower, washing your hair and body before stepping out and grabbing your towel. 

After sliding on your jean shorts and simple top, you brush your teeth, apply some simple makeup, and blow dry your hair. 

You leave it natural today, letting the hair cascade down your neck and back. 

You check yourself in the mirror to make sure you’re all ready before going out to face Cassie. Your chest gets tight at the thought of her knowing what you were doing in the shower, but you convince yourself everything was fine. 

All that false confidence changes when you see her sitting on the couch, legs spread open, resting her coffee cup on her thigh. 

God, you just wanted to maul her right there. 

It made your cheeks flush again and your pussy throb, but you ignored both of those facts. Instead, you clear your throat. 

“Oh, hi.” She stands and tucks her phone into her pocket. She walks into the small kitchen to rinse her cup out. She peers over her shoulder at you,  “You ready?” 

“Ye— yes.” You nod, rolling your lips. 

You look at her hair, messy waves like she slept with it wet and didn’t have the energy to tame it. Then you look at her outfit. A simple tank top with jeans. 

You let out a huff, begging the ground to swallow you whole. 

“Alright, let’s go.” She grabs her bag from the couch, holding the front door open for you. “Anywhere particular?” 

“Uh, no.” You shake your head, settling on simple answers to prevent worsening your situation completely. 

“Are you sure you're okay?” She squints at you like she always does when she’s concerned about you, and it makes your heart jump. 

“Yes, Cass.” 

“Okay.” She gives a simple nod and unlocks the car. “I’ll pick somewhere.” 

The two of you drive for a few minutes before you arrive at your destination. You smile when you realize it was a place you discovered on your last trip here. 

“I’ve been craving that breakfast sandwich I got here last time for weeks.” She grabs her bag from the backseat before opening the car door to get out. 

“Oh my gosh, yes!” You get out of the car, excited more than scared. 

You’re starting to realize Cassie has that effect on you. She distracts you from the nervousness to the point you forget you were nervous in the first place. 

“They have that amazing cinnamon roll.” You groan to yourself just thinking about it. 

“Alright, sweetie. Get whatever you want. On me.” She pulls the door open for the both of you, letting you walk in first. 

“Are you sure?” You frown. “I could pay.” 

“I’m sure.” She nods and holds up two fingers to the hostess, leaning down to whisper in your ear. “If you’re a good girl, I’ll let you leave the tip.” 

She’s also really good at making that nervousness resurface when she makes comments like that. 

“Okay.” You ignore how flushed you are now, focusing on not tripping before you sit down. 

You open the menu and scan the beverages before the waitress comes over to take your orders. You smile politely and order your favorite coffee, whereas Cassie orders water. 

You sigh as you look at the menu, thumb coming up to rub over your eyebrow. 

“What’s the matter?” She dips her head to look at you. 

“I don’t know if I want the breakfast sandwich now or if I want the cinnamon roll.” You look up at her apprehensively, but she’s staring at the menu. 

“Why not both?” She asks without looking up. 

“But, Cassie—“

“Hey, I got it.” She put her hand out. “I’m a big shot doctor, remember?” 

“Yeah, but you have a kid and yourself to provide for back home. I can’t just take—“ 

“Baby,” The word makes your stomach do multiple flips all at once, and your blush deepens to your chest. “I said I got it.” 

You settle with a nod. 

After ordering your food, you take a sip of your coffee, relishing in the feeling it makes in your body. You blow out a rush of air. 

“Have you heard from your mom?” Cassie moves her straw between her fingers.  

“No.” You say, a surprised look on your face. “She’s probably just busy with work.” 

You open your messages, surprised when you see one from her last night that you never saw, you click on it and read it. 

Hey, honey. Hope you’re having fun. I’m definitely not here at work. Call me later tomorrow with Cass. Don’t get into trouble without me there to bail you out. 

You laugh to yourself, looking up at Cassie to see a certain look on her face that you can only describe as jealousy. 

“My mom actually did text last night. I must’ve missed it.” You type out a response to your mom without looking at Cassie. 

We are having fun. Sorry I didn’t see this last night. We’re at brunch now. Call you tonight! 

You put the phone on the table for Cassie to read, and she chuckles as well. “Sounds like her.”

“Right?” 

“I am still a little upset she’s not here with us, but we’re having fun all on our own, aren’t we?” She smiles, her dimples popping out, making it impossible for you to look away. “I’m having fun with you.” 

“Yeah?” You smile at her, eyes looking at hers intensely before the waitress breaks up the moment by sitting the food in front of the two of you. 

“Here are those breakfast sandwiches. And the cinnamon roll. Is there anything else I can get the two of you while I’m here?” She smiles at the both of you, leaving when the two of you shake your heads. 

“Can you at least eat a little bit of the cinnamon roll so I don’t feel so bad? Please?” You look at her guiltily. 

“Okay, fine.” Her eyes look over you. “But only because you asked so nicely for me.” 

You ignore her comment and shove a bite of the sandwich in your face, chewing to get out of the conversation. 

After the two of you eat, Cassie pays and leaves the tip, much to your dismay, and then you leave. 

“I kinda want to walk on the boardwalk later, if you don’t mind.” Cassie unlocks the car so the two of you can slide inside. “We can go to the beach in the meantime.” 

“Yes, of course!” You talk with your hands. “You know I have to get a new t-shirt.”

She chuckles, “Yeah, I do. Maybe we could get matching ones this year.” 

“Yeah.” You look dumb-founded, thankful Cassie is focusing on backing out and not paying attention to you. “I’d really like that.” 

“Good.” She nods. 

Cassie insists you spend the rest of the day on the beach, and you don’t mind one bit. You’d always been a big fan of the ocean and sand, so you were more than happy to spend the day there. 

You wore a different bathing suit than yesterday, this one a little stringier than the last, but kept the cover up. 

You laid on the beach beside Cassie for a while, arm over your face to hide the sun from peeking in, before pulling out a book and flipping onto your stomach. 

“What are you reading?” Cassie looks over at you from her phone, letting the device lay across her stomach. 

“Just a romance novel.” You shrug. 

What you don’t say is that it’s your favorite queer romance author’s newest release. Or that you’re picturing Cassie as the love interest. Or that it was an age gap that matched the two of you perfectly. 

“Maybe you could read to me later.” She says off handedly, eyes back on her phone. 

You just clear your throat, blaming the blush on your face on the beaming sun above you. You manage to focus back on the book and read a few chapters before Cassie takes the book out of your hands. 

“Cass!” You scramble to your knees frantically, afraid she’ll read the back or lose your page. “Give me it back.” 

“On one condition.” Her finger holds the place you were last at, reading the title before looking back at you. “You get in the water with me.” 

“Really?” You suddenly forget about the book altogether, newfound excitement taking over your features at the thought of swimming with Cassie. 

She rarely got into the water, let alone swam. So you had to take the advantage while she was offering. 

“Let’s go.” You grab her hand, Cassie hastily sitting the book onto her beach chair, making sure to mark your page. 

Cassie allows herself to be pulled along by you, almost tripping several times before she reminds you she’s older than you, with less energy, and to slow down. 

That makes your stomach flutter for so many reasons. 

You lead her out until the water reaches up to your chests, standing close to each other. 

“The water is way cooler than I thought it would be.” Her arms float around in the water, forming smaller waves that cascade into your sides. 

“I thought it would be hot. Like the sun.” You lean your head back slightly to wet your hair. 

“Hm.” She smiles softly, watching you while you have your eyes closed. “I like your bathing suit.” 

Her words make your neck snap back up to her, a new blush taking over your body. Not from the sun this time. 

“Thanks. I’m not even sure where I got this.” You distract yourself by playing with one of the straps on your shoulders. 

“It’s pretty anyways.” Her eyes bore into yours with so much intensity you want to throw up. Or jump her bones. Or both. You aren’t sure yet. 

Her eyes move from your eyes to your cheeks, down to your lips, but move quickly down to your neck before coming back up again. You look away, flushed from the way she was watching you, over to the large oncoming wave. 

“Oh! Watch out!” You laugh loudly before clutching onto Cassie, taking her down under the wave with you. 

When you resurface, you cough multiple times, trying to clear your throat of the salt water. You blink a few times, rubbing your eyes, before you feel a soft hand pushing hair off your face. 

“Are you okay?” When you look at her, her eyes are full of concern, one hand gripping your hip, the other cupping your face between her palm. “Get it all out.” 

“I’m—“ cough. “t— trying.” 

“I know, honey. I know.” Her palm slides across your cheek, pushing more hair back. “You got it.” 

You let out a breath of air when the coughing stops, looking down at the water. 

“Maybe we should get out.” She dips her head to meet your eyes, looking into them to make sure you’re really okay. 

“Yeah.” You sigh with a nod, letting Cassie’s hand slide to your back to lead you out of the water. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” She flattens the flyaway hairs on the top of your head. “Why don’t we go back to the house and get changed, hm?” 

“I thought you wanted to spend the day here?” You ask breathlessly from the way her hand is rubbing against your lower back. 

You trip over something at the base of the ocean where the waves begin, and Cassie’s quick to hook her arm underneath yours. 

“I think we should get out of the sun.” Is her deflection. 

“Okay.” You say with a huff. 

You gather your things and make the quick walk back to the beach house, Cassie’s eyes never leaving you. You pretend you don’t notice her eyes boring into the side of your face so hard you’re surprised a hole doesn’t form. 

Cassie holds the door open after unlocking it, and you relish in the cool air conditioner before you shiver. 

“Cold?” She frowns down at you. 

“Fine.” You laugh. “I’ll be okay, Cass.” 

“I know that.” She scoffs, but it comes out more like a nervous laugh. 

You give her a look as if you don’t believe her, but Cassie only rolls her eyes. “I’m going to take a shower. I promise I’ll still be breathing when I’m done.” 

“Don’t joke about that.” She pushes against your shoulder softly, a smile forming on her face, hand lingering way too long. 

You press your lips together, giving her a once over before making your way to your room. 

You settle on a Pittsburgh Med sweatshirt and a pair of shorts, laying them over the sink while you step into the shower. 

You take your time showering, compared to this morning, and memories of Cassie standing out of the shower play back in your mind. You run your hands through your hair repeatedly until you rid almost all of the sand from your scalp. 

Then you shampoo, wash it out, and scrub conditioner onto the ends of your hair. 

You wash your body, turning towards the stream of water to enjoy the warmth. You let out a soft moan at the feeling of the water. 

When you’re done, you dry your hair as best as you can with the towel before hanging it to dry. You braid your hair into a loose braid at the nape of your neck. 

When you reach the living room, Cassie’s also showered already, sitting with the television on, some random reality show you know she hates. 

But you love it. 

“You don’t like this kind of thing.” You throw yourself onto the couch, taking half of the blanket thrown over Cassie’s legs. 

She looks over at you with her eyebrows raised and you point to the television. 

“Sure I do.” She scoffs. 

“Don’t lie to me, Cass.” You look up at her, and you swear you hear her breath hitch, but she covers it up quickly with a cough. 

“Okay, fine.” 

Your phone starts ringing then, and you don’t even realize it’s a little after seven. You promised you’d call your mom, but it seems she beat you to it. 

Cassie watches as you answer, your moms face overtaking the screen. 

“Hi, mom.” You smile down at the screen, inching closer to Cassie until your sides are flushed together. Cassie puts her arm around you to pull her closer. 

“Hi, hun.” Her bright smile matches yours perfectly, there’s no doubt that she’s your mother. “Hi, to you too, Cass.” 

“Hi!” Cassie’s hand that’s resting by your neck waves before falling back to your neck, her fingers sliding against your skin. 

“What’ve you girls been up to?” You can see she’s also sitting on the couch at home. 

“We went for breakfast this morning..” You trail off, your mind replaying Cassie whispering in your ear and calling you a good girl. “And then we went to the beach.” 

“Well, I can tell that much.” She moves the phone down, resting the bottom against her leg. “You look a little burnt on your cheeks.” 

“I told her to reapply sunscreen.” Cassie looks over at you before back to the camera. “But you know how stubborn she is.” 

She picks this time to slide her thumb against the underside of your jaw, out of reach from the camera’s sight. She curls a piece of your hair between her fingers, absentmindedly. 

“That, I do.” She chuckles. 

You clear your throat. 

“You okay?” Cassie’s full attention is on you in a heartbeat. 

“What’s wrong?” Dana looks over concerned, even over the phone and you can’t roll your eyes enough for the both of them. 

“Nothing.” You shake your head. 

“She swallowed a lot of salt water—“

“Because I was trying to tell you the wave was coming!” You throw your hand in the air. 

“My point stands.” She looks back at Dana, as if to prove her point. 

Dana laughs, “That’s my girl, alright. Y’all have any plans for tonight?” 

“Cass wants to hit the boardwalk tonight.” You smile excitedly. “She even said we could get matching shirts.” 

“Well.. seems like you two are having fun.” 

“Yeah.” You slump a little. “I still wish you were here too.” 

“Me too, sweetie.” 

Cassie’s thumb brushes against your pulse point, and you bite the inside of your cheek. 

Two can play at this game, you think. 

You move closer to her, trying to keep the phone stable so your mom doesn’t notice you rubbing against her best friend. You hook your leg over her knee, closer than before. 

You see Cassie lick her lips in the camera, one side of her lips turning up into a smirk. 

Her hand slides under the blanket to the inside of your knee, resting there, squeezing every so often. It makes heat pool once again—you were definitely ovulating—and you want to get off this phone as soon as possible. 

“Only a few more days, right?” Cassie leans forward slightly. 

“Right.” Dana nods. “Well, I’m gonna go so the two of you can head to the boardwalk. Don’t forget to have dinner! Text me when you get back.” 

“I will mom. Love you, bye.” You hit the red button to hang up, ignoring the way your heart is practically beating out of your chest right now. 

Cassie sits there silently, only the sounds of your breathing can be heard, and you don’t dare look over at her. Too nervous about what you might see. 

“Well, we should probably go, right?” You say awkwardly. 

“Yeah.” Cassie turns her head to look back at you. “Look at me.” 

You take a deep breath, still looking forward, unable to move your head. A mixture of guilt and shame running through your bloodstream. 

Whether it was because she was twice your age or because you just rubbed your body against Cassie on the phone with your mother, you aren’t completely sure. 

“Look at me.” She says more firmly, and you snap your neck towards her without a second thought. “Do you still want to go?” 

Her eyes are darkened, but you blame it on the lighting in the room, even though that doesn’t make any sense. 

“Y— yes.” You swallow thickly, removing your leg from hers, the loss of contact from her leaving you cold and achy. “Let’s go.” 

Cassie stares up at you from her spot on the couch and you put a hand out to help her up, a small smile on your face. 

You walk alongside each other silently on the boardwalk. All the lights and noise move past you like a blur. You barely read the signs as you walk by. 

Cassie’s doing good with keeping up with you. She can tell something’s eating at you, but she doesn’t ask. 

Suddenly, her hand comes to your back, the warmth of her hand through the fabric making you melt into her touch. It’s almost embarrassing how quickly you’d fold if you were fighting. Not that you were. 

“Sorry, there was someone walking in the middle, he almost ran into you.” She chuckles and looks at the side of your face, but you don’t laugh along with her. 

“It’s okay.” You say quietly. 

“Hey, we can go back if you aren’t feeling good.” Cassie’s concern is plastered all over her body, the way her hand tightens on your back, the way her eyebrows pull together, the way her frown deepens. 

“It’s not that.” You shake your head as if to tell yourself to snap out of this. You settle on a lie. “I just wish my mom was here.”

“What, my company is not good enough?” She jokes but you can feel the insecurity underlining her half joke. 

“No, Cass, I’m sorry.” You’re standing off to the side now, out of the passerby traffic. “It’s not you.” 

“Are you upset with me?” She blinks at you, waiting for a response. 

“No, no, no.” You shake your head quickly. “I don’t really know what’s wrong. I’m sorry. I get like this sometimes. My social battery wears off.” 

Her hand lowers from your back to your hand, and she squeezes it softly. She whispers, “Come here.” 

It’s not a command. It’s low, soft, that voice she only started using on this trip. One you think she’s reserved for only you. You let yourself be pulled into her chest, enjoying the way her hand grasps the back of your neck. 

“Why don’t we..” She speaks into your ear. “Get those shirts, and we can go back to the house. I’ll order something in.” 

“No, Cassie. I can’t ask you to do that.” You lean back only slightly so she can see your face. “I mean, we’re at the beach. We should be enjoying ourselves. Eating at restaurants.” 

“Which we have all week to do.” She nods, eyes latched onto yours. “Let me take care of you.” 

It makes your toes curl, the way she whispers it, the way her eyebrows raise to accentuate her voice, the way her breath fans across your face. And you wish she was saying it in a different context. 

Preferably one where you were writhing underneath her, begging her to touch you, needy. 

The blush reaches your face before you can stop it. 

“What?” She smirks. 

“Nothing.” You shake your head again. “Let’s go into this store. It looks promising.” 

“Okay.” She laughs, allowing herself to be pulled by you. 

She has a feeling she knows exactly what just crossed over your mind, and she would be lying if she said she didn’t want that too. 

“You can pick the shirt we get, hm?” Her hand doesn’t leave yours until you pull away to hold up a random shirt from the pile. 

You hold it up to her chest, your touch brushing against her making her own face heat. 

“I want to pick a color that looks good on you.” You feel the need to explain yourself. 

“No, no. Have at it.” Her jaw tightens in a silent restraint, trying to hold herself back from reaching out to touch you. “I kind of like that green one over there.” 

You walk a few feet, “This one? Aww it’s cute.” 

It has little sea turtles on it in a lighter green shade, the top of the shirt labeled with the beach you were at. 

“Okay we’ll get these.” You nod, your spark suddenly back, and Cassie’s silently relieved. 

When you reach the register to pay, Cassie slides her wallet out of her pocket, but you beat her by a landslide, card already in your hand when the card reader lights up. Cassie huffs a small breath out, shaking her head. 

“You’ll pay for that.” Cassie leans down to whisper into your ear, moving the same piece of hair she touched earlier behind your ear. 

“I think I just did.” You turn your head, smirking at her. 

And Cassie thinks about how easy it would be to kiss you right there. But she doesn’t. 

“You guys are adorable.” The girl behind the register says. “I wish I could have someone to look at me like that.” 

“Oh, we’re not..” You shake your head, pointing between the two of you. 

“Thank you so much.” Cassie grabs the bag from the counter, already halfway out of the store when you catch up with her. 

“What was that about?” You frown and reach for the bag, but Cassie holds it out of your reach. 

“Nothing.” She tilts her lips down and shakes her head. 

“Okay.” You say skeptically. “Whatever you say.” 

When you make it back to the house, Cassie’s already tapping on her phone to order the two of you dinner, whereas you’re laying across the couch, head tilted towards the television. 

Cassie sits on the couch a few minutes later, lifting your legs to lay them across her lap, her warm palms resting against your shins. 

“Are you going to tell me what was wrong?” You bite on one of your nails anxiously. 

“I told you, nothing.” Her shoulders aren’t as tense as they were on the boardwalk, so you decide to let it go. 

You just sigh and turn back towards the television. 

“God, I really do hate this shit.” She leans her head back against the couch. “How can you stand this?” 

“It’s stupid. And funny.” You shrug, inching your body down lower so your legs fully cage Cassie onto the couch. “They overreact over absolutely nothing.” 

“They’ve known each other for two days.” She points at the screen. “She’s crying over a walking red flag.” 

“Do you think I’m a red flag?” You ask around a yawn. 

“No.” She watches you. “I don’t.” 

The air tenses once again, and you force yourself to look back at the screen, focused solely on the screen and not the way Cassie’s eyes stare into yours. Or the way she looks at your lips every so often. 

Her hand rubs over your leg, pulling you into a soft slumber. One you don’t even try to fight. 

Cassie wakes you up with a soft hand massaging your shoulder, rocking you back and forth from in front of you. 

“Baby, the food is here. Do you want some?” Her face is soft when you blink up at her. Your heart threatens to come out of your throat when you wake up enough to understand what she’s saying. 

“Yes, please.” You sit up slowly, Cassie still leaning down below you on her knees. 

You wonder how you keep getting put in these awkward positions between yourself and Cassie. 

“Okay.” She pats your knee and stands, going over to the kitchen area to bring you a plate, sitting it on the coffee table in front of the two of you. 

“We should’ve gone mini golfing.” You say around a bite of steaming pizza, pulling at the cheese that strings off the slice. 

“Chew and say that again.” Cassie says with an amused expression. 

After swallowing, you say, “I said, we should’ve gone mini golfing.” 

“We can tomorrow.” She nods and takes another bite. “If that’s what you want.”

“Okay.” You nod with a small, barely there smile, still groggy from your cat nap. 

After finishing your food, you help Cassie clean up, much to her dismay. You place the pizza into the fridge, mentally telling yourself you’ll grab another slice for lunch tomorrow. 

“Good night, Cassie.” You linger in the hallway, watching her leaning back against the island. 

“Good night, sweetheart.” She looks up, watching you walk back the darkened hallway. 

When you slide into your bed, you check your social media quickly, before closing the apps and opening the message thread between your mom and you. 

You: We got back a while ago. Sorry I forgot to text. 

Mom: That’s okay, sweetheart. How are you doing? 

You: Good. Cassie and I got our matching shirts. We should’ve gotten you one too. 

Mom: It’s okay that you didn’t. We can get a different matching shirt. That way you have one for Cass and one for me. 

Your heart flutters in a way it shouldn’t at the idea of having a shirt linked to Cassie. 

You: Yeah. Sounds good. 

Mom: What was for dinner?

You: I was tired so we came back to the house and Cassie got us pizza 

Mom: Sounds delicious. Plans for tomorrow?

You: Mini golfing definitely. Probably dinner out. 

Mom: Alright. It’s getting late so I’m going to head to bed. Text me tomorrow? 

You: Of course Mom. Good night. Love you. 

Mom: Love you too, hun. 

You shut your phone off and place it on your stand before sinking deeper into your sheets, ignoring the way your pulse is still thrumming and the way the heat in your stomach never fully leaves you. 

Cassie runs out before you wake up to grab breakfast for the both of you, and it’s waiting on the kitchen table when you stumble out of the hallway. 

Your hands rub at your eyes, hair sticking in all directions, lines from the pillowcase left on your neck, but Cassie still thinks you look gorgeous. She’s watching dumbfounded from the couch. 

“I got you breakfast.” She snaps out of it. “It’s on the counter along with that iced sugary crap you like.” 

You turn towards her, unaware of the way you look, and Cassie swears her heart beats out of her chest. 

“Thank you.” You nod, and Cassie finds you adorable in this state. Half awake, sassy, unbelievably cute. You take a sip of the coffee with a moan and Cassie crosses her legs. 

“You’re welcome.” She pulls out her phone so she can force herself to look at something other than you. 

You come over to sit beside her on the couch, unwrapping the breakfast sandwich and taking a large bite. 

You eat in silence, watching whatever Cassie had playing on the flat screen, occasionally taking sips of your coffee. 

“What do you want to do today?” You turn your head, rolling the aluminum foil into a ball, throwing it at her when she doesn’t immediately respond. 

When she looks over at you, you’re raising your eyebrows. 

“You’re gonna pay for that.” She throws her phone onto the table. 

“Oh, yeah? What are you gonna do about it?” A playful expression is on your face as you poke at her side. 

She grabs your hand and starts tickling your stomach, holding you down beneath her until your gasping for air. 

“Oh— okay! Ca— Cassie!” You laugh loudly, thankful it was only the two of you there. “I— I’m sorry! Please! I can— can’t breathe!” 

“Say that again for me.” Her hand on your side stills, her voice raspy. 

She licks her lips, staring down at you, cheeks flushed a bright red, Cassie’s hand holding both your wrists above your head. Fuck, she thinks. 

“I’m sorry.” You pout. 

“That’s a good girl.” Her breath fans against your face. “Now, be good for me and tell me what you asked.” 

“I—“ Your voice squeaks. “I asked what you wanted to do today.” 

She sighs, “Are you sick of the beach already?” 

“No! I want to go!” You nod. “I just.. I don't want to tire you out. You’re old, remember?” 

She begins tickling you again before you are gasping for air once again. 

“Go get ready.” She finally lets go of your wrists, but you need a second to recuperate, still catching your breath on the couch. 

Both from her tickling you and from the grip she had on you. You wonder if she held girls’ wrists together like that during sex. 

You immediately stand when the thought crosses your mind, practically sprinting to your room. You shut the door and lean back against it. Holding your face in your hands. 

It was going to be a long day. 

But you could do it. You’ve done it for the past two days. And you could do it for the next two. Just ignore the throbbing in your pussy and move on. 

You dress quickly, the same swimsuit as the first day, put on your cover up, and grab your book. 

“Will you let me get in the water?” You ask when you reach the living room, choosing to ignore what happened a few moments ago on the couch. 

“We’ll see.” She grabs the beach bag from beside the door and steps out into the sun. “Only if I get in with you.” 

“Fine.” You roll your eyes at her. 

Cassie let you pick the place for dinner, seeing as she’s picked everywhere you’ve ordered from or went so far. 

You picked a nice Italian restaurant about twenty minutes from the house. You were craving pasta, and Cassie didn’t mind all that much as long as you were together. 

You wore a cute little summer dress, whereas she dressed in dress pants and an appropriate top paired with it. 

You chose water to drink, rather than any alcoholic beverages. You knew Cassie was okay if you drank, she didn’t usually have a problem around alcohol as long as she wasn’t the one drinking it, but you thought that would be selfish. 

Besides, you weren’t a big drinker. Especially not in public places like this one. 

The conversation flowed easily between the two of you compared to last night. You’re still mentally kicking yourself for acting the way you did. 

You made things confusing, and you didn’t mean to. 

You never wanted Cassie to feel like she did something wrong. And you were sure she felt the same way towards you. 

By the time you finished your meals, the sun was setting over the bay beautifully, eyes watching as the sun began to sink behind the ocean. You ordered a dessert to share soon after. 

Now, full, you’re talking freely. Tired from the day but also energetic from the way Cassie looks at you. 

She was like a drug you never wanted to get rid of. Which probably wasn’t the best thing to compare Cassie to, but you don’t think about that right now. 

Cassie’s reddish hair flows over her shoulders, as she watches you. 

“Tell me something I don’t know about you.” Cassie holds her head in one of her hands, peering over at you with too much love in her eyes to be friendly. 

Which is the line you’d mentally drawn before leaving your house a few days ago. But you had a feeling you were further away from that line than you’d intended. 

“You know almost everything about me, Cass.” You laugh and anxiously look down at your hands. 

“That’s not true.” She shakes her head. 

“Okay..” You think for a moment, the first thought coming to your mind making you flush, sit up straighter and stare away from her all at once. 

“What?” Her blue eyes twinkle with the moonlight, hair blowing with the evening wind, her head leaning forward slightly. 

“I..” You debate whether to say it, eyes darting around you. “Something dirty came to my mind.” Your eyes squeeze shut with a shake of your head, your fingers pressing into your forehead. “I can’t say it.” 

“No..” Her eyes have noticeably darkened since you last looked into them, turned into a dark blue rather than her usual light blue. “Tell me.” 

This time it is a command, her cheeks are flushed just like yours, open and waiting for your admission. 

You swear your heart skips a beat in your chest, and you want to puke and scream all at once. You aren’t sure whether to say it or to come up with something else a little more clean for a conversation with your mothers best friend. 

Her eyes are intense and waiting, and you don’t miss the way her lips close around the cherry that came out of her drink or the way her tongue slides against it. 

It makes you wonder what it would feel like sliding up your slit—the way she’d moan into you when she tasted your slick on her tongue. 

“Okay..” You snap out of those thoughts, blowing out air as if to calm your nerves—something you’ve had to do way too many times on this trip—but it doesn’t help at all. 

You’re sweating more than you should and your leg threatens to bounce underneath the table. 

“You can’t let things be weird if I admit this.” You watch her facial expressions soften. 

I can’t lose you. I can’t lose this, you think. 

“I promise.” She says around the cherry, holding out her pinky to you. 

You link yours around hers when you admit, “Nobody has ever made me come during sex.” You say it all in one breath, so quick you’re afraid she didn’t understand you. 

Cassie’s quiet for a long time, but you don’t dare to look at her. You’re too nervous. If you did look, you were sure you’d see that surprised look she always has when you say something out of pocket. 

Eyebrows raised, mouth agape, mind racing like she’s questioning everything. 

Instead, she surprises you. 

“I bet I could do it.” 

“W— what?” You flush on a whole new level. Because you thought you’d been imagining the back and forth flirting between the two of you. But this feels real. 

“I know I can do it.” She leans forward to hold your chin between her fingers. “So let me.”

Her voice is raspy in a way that scratches your brain just right, and you’re ready to let her do it right now over the table. But you have standards. 

“Cassie..” Your eyes are pleading. “Tell me this isn’t a joke.” 

“Why would I joke about that, baby?” She tilts her head. 

“Take me home.” Your eyelashes flutter. 

Cassie has you against the door as soon as it’s shut. Her lips are on yours, her soft ones against yours, her hand holding your jaw to keep your head in the exact place she wants you. 

Her lips trail down your neck, her hand sliding down to wrap around your neck, applying light pressure. 

You let out a broken groan at the feeling. 

“Cass..” You slump against the door. “We shouldn’t do this in the living room.” 

“Fuck.” She moves her lips away from your neck. “You’re right.” 

She lifts you up bridal style, kicking in her bedroom door so it swings wide enough for the both of you to fit into. 

Cassie lays you against the bed with so much care it makes your thighs feel sticky with your slick. Her mouth is back on your neck, sucking at the pulse point she rubbed with her thumb last night. 

Her hands ball the material of your dress up at your hips, her hands finding the flesh of your hips to hold onto as she kisses further down your neck. 

She pushes the fabric up until your chest is exposed, perfect and waiting for her to explore. She lets out a soft moan, practically drooling at the sight of you. She leans her head back to compose herself. 

“Cassie.” Your hand finds the back of her neck, scratching at the bottom of her scalp. “Touch me.” 

That’s all she needs to dive back into you, placing kisses between your breasts, leaving love bites all over you. 

“Cassie, fuck.” You throw your head back against the pillow. “As much as,” you pause breathlessly. “as I like this, I can’t hide all of these marks.” 

“Who cares? Let them see.” She softens a bite with a swipe of her tongue. 

What you want to say is your mom will be here in only a day, and she would ask questions about this, but you didn’t want her to come back to reality and regret this completely, so you keep your mouth shut. 

One hand leaves your hip to roll one hardened nub between her fingers, reveling in the way you scratch harder at her scalp and moan loudly. 

“If you moan this loud at this, I can’t wait to hear you when my mouth is on that pretty pussy.” She leans down to whisper in your ear. 

“Fuck Cass. Please.” You jut your hips up. 

“Patience.” She smirks. “I thought you had patience.” 

You huff, not believing that she remembered you saying that two days ago. 

“And I thought you were here to make me come.” Your eyes look up at her, like you’re mentally battling, before she smashes her lips against yours. 

“Don’t talk back to me.” She bites your lip before soothing it over with a kiss. “Bad girls don’t get what they want.” 

She wraps her mouth around your nipple, flicking her tongue and sucking on the bud until you're writhing and begging for her to touch you. 

But she’s going to make you wait. 

She moves over to your other nipple, playing with the other under the pad of her thumb before placing her palm over your tit, squeezing the flesh. 

You let out small moans, arching up into her. 

When she feels you’ve finally had enough, she kisses down your abdomen, leaving another hickey there, already darkening as she moves on. She kisses both of your hip bones before abruptly spreading your legs, making you gasp. 

She rids your underwear quickly, tossing it off the bed before placing kisses along the insides of your thighs. 

“Do you know how long I’ve waited for this?” Her nose nuzzles into the soft skin of your thigh. “How long I’ve waited for a moment alone with you?” 

“I think I have an idea.” You say breathlessly, staring down at her. But she’s focused on dessert. 

In one swift movement, her mouth is on your pussy, tongue flattened over the pulsing bud in between your legs. She licks up and down your slit, fucking her tongue into you a few times before settling back

on your clit. 

“Such a good girl for me.” Her words vibrate against you, making you reach down to her hair, pulling her impossibly closer. 

She holds your thighs open to get better access, and you feel her everywhere, all over your body, arms hooked underneath your legs. 

“Cass— holy shit.” You cry out, pulling at the roots of her red hair. “I’m so close.” 

She chuckles against you, tongue sliding against your clit at a rapid pace, stopping every once in a while to suck and kiss. 

“I’m ready, baby.” Her nose rubs against your clit as her tongue moves to fuck inside of you. “Give it to me, please.” 

You cry as you come hard, seeing stars, Cassie’s tongue as deep as it will go. She moves back up to lick you through the rest of your orgasm. 

Once you’ve rode the high out, you lean your head back with a sigh. 

“Holy. Fucking. Shit.” You laugh, blissed out. “That was so good. Thank you.” 

You pull her up to kiss her, tasting yourself on her lips and tongue as she slides it past your lips. 

She breaks apart to lean down to your ear, "You didn’t think we were done yet, did you?” 

“Well— you said—“ 

“I had a taste and now I want another.” She leans back up to stare into your eyes, her nose brushing against yours softly. “I want you to ride my face now, sweetheart.” 

“Okay.” You moan at the thought, already aroused again. 

You move out of the way so Cassie can lay down. Her hands come up to find the soft skin of your ass, helping you settle gently over her mouth. 

She’s sucking your clit again in no time, and you’re struggling to find something to hold onto. You lean forward against her headboard, arms draped over it. 

You jut your hips at how sensitive you are, and her hands come up to your hips to help you do it again. She guides you back and forth on her face, rocking against her. 

You bite your lip to hide the shuddering moan threatening to leave your lips. But it’s no use when she enters two fingers inside of you, adding to the building pressure in your lower abdomen. 

“Cassie.” You cry. “Too much.” 

“Mm-mm baby.” Her words are muffled from below. “You can take it.” 

Your breath hitches when she curls her fingers just right, sending you right over the edge. 

You moan and rock your hips against her face some more, riding out the high. Once you can breathe normally, you remove yourself from her face, smirking at the slick on her face. 

“Now I want to have some fun with you.” You smirk as you unbutton her shirt, revealing the plain sports bra she was wearing underneath. 

She touches your hand, “You don’t have to do that. This was about you.” 

“I want to return the favor.” You kiss the underside of her jaw. “Now be quiet and let me.” 

“Okay.” She shudders out. 

You slide a hand underneath her bra, one hand grabbing at her tit, feeling the weight of it in your palm. You slide your finger around it, almost a ghosting touch. 

“Shit, sweetie.” She bites her lip, holding all of her strength together. 

You slide the shirt the rest of the way off her shoulders, removing the bra over her head, and lean down to kiss one nipple. 

She whimpers, like a needy child, and you think it’s the hottest thing ever. 

You slot one of your legs between hers, pressing your thigh to her core, enjoying the way her breath comes out broken. 

Your mouth wraps around her nipple, like she did with you, and she rocks her hips against your thigh. 

“That feel good?” You moan around her nipple, feeling the wetness leak through her pants. 

“So good.” Her hands wrap around the back of her head, holding your face to her. Her hips stutter as she slowly reaches her climax, a knot forming deep in her stomach. 

You pull away altogether unexpectedly, Cassie’s whine enough to pull a laugh out of you. 

“Relax, I’m not going to leave you hanging like that.” You lean over her to kiss her as your hands move to unzip her pants. “I just wanna taste you. It’s only fair, don’t you think?” 

You pull her pants down her legs, followed by her underwear then. 

You kiss her stretch marks on her stomach, down her mound, all the way to where she needs you most. 

“Fuck, I need you.” She pushes your head into her, but you resist. 

“How do you ask?” You look up at her with expectant eyes. 

“Please.” She whines. 

You let her push your face into her waiting pussy, kneading at her muscular thighs as you flick your tongue up and down. 

One of your hands comes up to her tit, gripping the flesh between your hand, the skin of your palm grazing her nipple deliciously. 

Her thighs close around your head as she gets closer and closer to the edge, and you don’t bother to separate them. 

Death by Cassie Mckay? You’d be more than happy. 

You bring your free hand up to slide two fingers inside of her, sliding in and out perfectly. 

Her loud moans and her pulsing around your fingers tells you she’s getting close. 

“Come for me, Cassie. Please? I’ve been such a good girl, haven’t I?” You look up at her with puppy dog eyes, and when she looks down at you she groans. 

“You’ve been so good. So, so good.” She lets out a breathy moan, coming around your fingers and tongue. 

After she’s rode out her own high, you come up to lay beside her in her bed, not sure whether you can lay too close or if you’re at the perfect spot. 

“Come here.” She slides her hand down your back, pulling you closer. “Don’t be shy now.” 

“I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to come closer or not.” You search her face. 

“Why wouldn’t I?” 

“I— I don’t know.” You shrug. 

She pulls you in for a soft kiss, her tongue lazily battling yours for dominance. 

“We should shower.” She says after she pulls away. 

“Yeah.” But you don’t make any effort to move. “Do you want me to shower in my room?” 

“Not a chance.” She smiles and leans back down for another kiss. “Come on.” 

You’d never been in Cassie’s room before this. It’s kind of.. homey. In her own way. The sheets smell just like her and you want to stay here forever. 

But you know that’s not possible. 

You know you have to eventually get up. And go back to the real world. 

“Good morning, beautiful.” Cassie’s eyes flutter open, watching you with the softest expression. 

“Morning.” You nuzzle closer into her. “I’m glad we did this, just so you know. I don’t regret anything.”

“Me either.” She whispers and kisses the top of your nose. 

You’d both decided last night to just have a chill day today. You could snuggle on the couch, make out in her bed, have more shower sex. Whatever you wanted. 

Relish in the last day of freedom before your mom came—

“Guys?” The front door shut softly as bags sat down on the floor. 

You sat up quickly. 

“I thought she wasn’t coming until tomorrow!” You yell, grabbing a pair of Cassie’s sweatpants from her drawer to slide on. “Oh, my God.” 

“Calm down.” She whispers. “It’s gonna be fine.” 

“What are we gonna do?!” You’re internally freaking out. 

“Um..” She trails off, reaching for her shirt. 

You don’t hear your mom go into your room, or call your name, or make her way to Cassie’s room. 

“Oh, you’re both in here.” She says it like it’s the most normal thing in the world. 

Until she looks to see Cassie sliding her shirt on the rest of the way. And the fact that you’re wearing Cassie’s clothes head to toe. And the fact that both sides of Cassie’s bed looks slept in. 

She licks her lips, looking between the two of you before walking backwards out of the house. 

“Fuck. I need a cigarette.” You see her run a hand through her blonde locks before hearing the door slam shut. 

“Oh my god.” You slide down the front of Cassie’s dresser, face in your hands, tears sliding down your face slowly. “She’s gonna hate me. She’s gonna hate you. Oh my God.” 

“Hey, hey, hey.” Cassie’s at your side in a second, rubbing circles on your back. “I need you to breathe with me.” 

She pulls you into her chest so you can feel the rise and fall of her chest, “Feel that? My breathing? My heartbeat?” 

You nod silently, tears running down your face, burying yourself in her shoulder. 

“Come on, baby. Breathe.” She places a soft kiss against your temple, breathing in your hair. “She won’t hate you. You’re her daughter. And she loves you.” 

“You’re twice my age.” You throw your hands in the air. “And her best friend!” 

“No regrets, remember?” She lifts your chin to look at her. 

“I know.” You sniffle. “But she’s going to be so mad.” 

“We’ll deal with it together.” She promises, staring down at you. “You should go talk to her.” 

She slides her thumbs under your eyes, drying the tears built underneath your eyes, tucking strands of hair out of your face. 

“Do you want me to come?” She lifts her eyebrows. 

“No.” You look away. “I should do it myself.” You look back up to her. “Do I look okay?” 

“Gorgeous.” She pinches your cheek softly before helping you stand, placing a soft kiss on your lips. “Go.” 

You timidly walk out of the room, standing in the wall to collect yourself for a few moments before going outside. Your moms leaning against the rail, cigarette between her fingers. 

“Mom.” You come up beside her, placing your hands on the rail. Your voice breaks as you speak, tearing you into two. “I.. I know how this looks.” 

She stays silent, taking another drag from her cigarette. 

“But I care about Cassie. And she cares about me.” You take a deep breath. “And we weren’t hiding this from you. I swear. It just happened last night. It happened so fast. But I don’t regret it. I’ve known her all my life and that sounds shitty when I say it out loud, but that just means I trust her. And if this happening means I lose your respect, then I’ll do everything to earn it back. I love you and you’re the most important person in my life. And.. if this happening also means you hate me then.. I’m sorry.” 

Your voice breaks to the point it’s almost hard to understand you. 

When you look up, your mom looks heartbroken, staring back down at you, cigarette long forgotten.

“Oh, honey.” She pulls you into a hug, her hand in your hair. “I don’t hate you. I would never hate you. For anything.” 

“I’m so sorry.” You cry. 

“It’s just.. it surprised me, is all.” She says when you lean back up. “I think.. I’ve always known you were drawn to Cassie in a way that wasn’t maternal.” 

“Really?” You ask. 

“It just caught me off guard, is all.” She nods. “She’s my best friend. And you’re half her age. It’s a lot.” 

“I know, I know.” You nod multiple times, closing your eyes. “I know how it looks. But I care about her a lot and I don’t want any of us to have problems. If you don’t want me to see Cassie you can tell me.” 

“Does she make you happy?” She raises her eyebrows. 

“Yes. So happy. I had more fun in the past three days than I have in the past six months.” 

“Then that’s what matters.” She pulls you into another hug. “Now let’s go back in there.” 

“Okay.” You say. 

You open the door, holding it for your mom, seeing Cassie standing in the kitchen area, expecting. 

“We’re all good.” Your mom waves it off. “It’ll be a weird adjustment, but I’ll get used to it. Just remember that the walls are very thin. And I will know

if you’re fuckin’.” 

You burst out laughing. 

“Oh, I know.” Cassie says, boring into the side of your face. 

That makes you freeze, staring over at Cassie with wide eyes. 

“Well.” Your mom claps, trying to save all three of you from an awkward conversation. “How about breakfast? Y’all go get ready. I’ll pick a place.” 

Cassie follows closely behind you, “I heard you, just so you know. That day in the shower.” 

You feel lightheaded as you make your way to your room to change, coming back out to meet Cassie in the hall. 

“You can’t just.. say that.” You whisper. 

“What? It was cute.” She touches your face. “Were you thinking about me?” 

“You’re an asshole.” You swat her hand away. 

“That’s not what you were saying last night.” She smirks. “Be a good girl and don’t keep your mom waiting.” 

She lets you walk in front of her, pulling you against her at the last second to whisper, “If you’re good I’ll let you ride my face again tonight.” 

You blush deeply and walk the rest of the way to the kitchen, pressing your lips together and internally cursing Cassie out in your head as you make the way out the front door.