I'll be brave, I'll be brave

victoria is mad at cassie. like, stomping-out-of-the-club mad. it happens when cassie pulls her away from trinity, muttering something about how they were practically dry humping on the dance floor. victoria's face goes hot, she yanks her arm free, and walks out without a word. cassie is right behind her, the door slamming shut behind them.

victoria leans against the wall, twirling an empty pack of cigarettes between her fingers. she looks up at cassie with big innocent eyes. got a cig, mom? pretty please? i'm all out.

cassie's nostrils flare, a sharp exhale through her nose. victoria. not here.

what? don't want to share with your little girl? she speaks louder this time, tilting her head, letting her voice carry. loud enough for the people spilling out of the club to hear, loud enough for the group smoking a few feet away to turn their heads. victoria feels their eyes on her and something warm curls in her stomach.

can you behave like a fucking adult for once? cassie steps closer, tries to grab her arm.

she pulls back just in time, grinning. oh, so that's what we're doing tonight. great. since when are you interested in me being an adult?

keep your voice down.

nope. victoria pushes off the wall, steps into cassie's space. they're chest to chest now, she can feel cassie's breath on her lips. you're being controlling. i think i'm old enough, aren't i?

cassie tries to grab her arm again. victoria lets her this time, just to feel the grip. cassie's fingers dig in and victoria's pulse jumps in her neck.

look at you, all worked up over nothing, victoria taunts. just let me bum a smoke, mom, since you wanna ride me so hard.

someone wolf-whistles from the smoking group. cassie's face goes red—that deep, blotchy red that victoria loves, the one that means cassie is two seconds from losing it.

stop it.

cassie's eyes drop to victoria's lips for a split second before snapping back up. victoria catches it and smiles. game on.

you stop acting like it doesn’t turn you on.

cassie's grip turns bruising, her eyes locked on victoria's, pupils blown wide. she's shaking. victoria can feel it through the fingers wrapped around her arm. good. she wants her shaking. wants her undone.

just give me a cig, victoria says, softer this time. she holds up her pinky. i won't tell a soul. not even dad, yeah? pinky promise.

cassie stares at her for a long moment, her jaw ticking. then: jesus, victoria, just shut up. here.

she pulls out her pack and hands victoria a cigarette. their fingers brush as she lights it for her, and victoria hooks them together, pinching the veins that pop in cassie's hands.

victoria takes a slow drag, the tip flaring orange in the dark. she holds the smoke in her lungs, lets it burn for a few seconds, then grabs cassie by the front of her shirt and yanks her forward, hard enough that cassie stumbles into her.

she presses their mouths together and exhales, smoke filling cassie's lungs, and cassie makes this punched-out sound—truly pitiful—as victoria grinds against her thigh. cassie's hands come up to her waist, hesitant, hovering, until victoria rolls her hips again and she finally breaks, gripping and grinding her down like a rag doll.

victoria pulls back, licking her lips, leaving cassie panting with an adorably confused frown on her face.