umm... do we fuck with vaguely dom bottom victoria/sub top yolanda and some lowk flipped power dynamics (aka victoria using her nepotism for lesbianism)?
tw: biting, eileen shamsi haunting the narrative
yolanda's first mistake is thinking that telling eileen about her and victoria's thing will make her life easier. foolishly, she assumes that eileen will adore her, victoria will be chill about it, and that everything will be sunshine and roses and glimmering pots of gold.
and in a way, it is. eileen does love it; she begins giving yolanda priority on more interesting surgeries and regularly invites her over for dinners at the shamsi/javadi family residence. and it's amusing for yolanda to watch victoria go through the five stages of grief with every passing comment, both because eileen seems to be under the impression that yolanda's leading victoria to surgery (she's not) and raymond seems to think their relationship is something more than a situationship (it's not, but it's incredibly entertaining to watch victoria flounder through a conversation with her father about it).
she deeply regrets this choice, though, on a night where victoria's out at a concert, something pop-esque, with her friends. bored, yolanda returns to one of her old haunts, a lesbian bar downtown, because hey, if victoria is allowed to have fun, so is she, right? it's not they're exclusive or anything.
what she doesn't expect, however, is for a flushed victoria javadi to burst into the bar, yank her from her stool (with much hooting and hollering from those around them), and all but drag her into a bathroom.
"weren't you at a concert?" yolanda mutters, trying to play off how flustered she is that victoria is here, but she has no time to think about how victoria even knew to be here before victoria is shoving her against the vanity and latching onto her neck like a fucking vampire: sucking, and licking, and even biting down with such a ferocity that it should hurt, but instead is just incredibly hot.
"yeah, and then you decided to post some story about being here," victoria throws back with venom, before sinking her teeth into yolanda's shoulder so deep it breaks the skin. "fucking ow, victoria," yolanda practically whines. her voice sounds foreign even to herself: thinner, higher, and weaker than normal, particularly different from how she tends to sound when they hook up. that, at least, gets victoria to detach herself from yolanda, eyes drawing down as she examines her handiwork displayed across yolanda's chest.
yolanda looks down too, and god, she looks like she's been attacked: purple and red splotches riddle her sternum, already starting to darken while a slow trickle of blood seeps down her left bicep. victoria seems satisfied, licking up yolanda's arm and sucking the red off of her own canines before gazing back up at yolanda with those big, doe eyes. if it were anyone else, this might feel like whiplash, but yolanda is used to victoria, familiar with the way she can go from one to a hundred in record time.
"victoria, we're not dating," she tries to reprimand, although her voice sounds flimsy and strained even to her own ears.
"well, you wouldn't want dr. shamsi to know that, now, would you?"
yolanda tries to glare, but she knows the malice in her gaze is nothing in comparison to the ferocity in victoria's. she looks almost drunk like this, whether on power or alcohol, yolanda couldn't say. and suddenly, yolanda's being flipped around and shoved down onto her knees, and victoria is hiking up her tiny miniskirt while sliding up onto the countertop. as always, yolanda's hands instinctually come up to wrap around the backs of each of victoria's thighs--like clockwork, like breathing. victoria smirks at the familiarity of the gesture, and yolanda knows she's been caught: hook, line, and sinker.
"oh, but she thinks you're such a doting girlfriend," victoria's voice is as light as air but sharp as a scalpel. she runs a manicured finger along yolanda's jawline but the pressure is barely there, completely opposite from the aggressive energy victoria had entered the bar with. it makes yolanda feel empty, feel undone and victoria knows it--yolanda can see it from the haughty, confident expression across her face.
she can also tell that it's working for her, in fact, yolanda can smell victoria's arousal from here, inches away from her pussy, and it makes her mouth begin to water. yolanda tries to reach under to the string of victoria's waistband, but victoria's finger instantly turns into an entire hand gripping at her chin, holding her in place.
and now yolanda is actually whining, because she wants, no, needs, to sink her face into victoria's cunt at this very moment, or she'll die (she's a doctor, yolanda's pretty sure there's some case study somewhere that says you can die if pussy is withheld from you and if it hasn't been written yet, she's willing to testify as patient zero). she's not entirely paying attention to what victoria's saying or how she, herself, sounds until her chin is yanked upward, and she's forced to make eye contact with victoria who tuts, spitefully, "what would eileen say about you breaking the heart of her precious little girl?" victoria's face has lost all of its characteristic sweetness, a cruel sneer replacing it as she holds yolanda's face in place. "you wouldn't get that recommendation letter you want so badly, now, would you?"
and it's not about the recommendation letter, none of this was really actually even about eileen -- they both know that -- but the casual acidity, the roughness of victoria's comment is so unmooring that she can't stall her reaction. the sound that pours out of yolanda's mouth is so pathetic it actually disorients her, so incredibly unlike herself that it feels like it's coming from an entirely different person. victoria just smirks like she's satisfied, like she knew this was going to happen, like she knew this is where they were always going to end up. evidently pleased enough, she takes her free hand and pulls her own panties to the side. the view is perfect and the smell is intoxicating, and yolanda tries to surge forward only to be met by victoria's frustratingly strong grasp still stopping her. "say it."
part of yolanda wants to be abrasive, to ask what do you want me to say, but she's far too tightly wound at the moment to really even consider stopping the instinctual response that falls off her tongue, "'m yours, vic."
yolanda only manages to catch a glimpse of the downright cheshire grin that's broken across victoria's face, too busy with the freedom that the release of victoria's grip on her chin has granted her, practically diving into victoria's cunt with the determination of a woman starved. victoria's efforts to press her head inward do little; she's so deep within victoria that they're utterly unnecessary, her tongue already plunging as far in as she can manage while her left hand coils around the top of victoria's hip to press down at her pelvic bone.
she eats, and eats, and eats, not stopping after victoria's first or second orgasm, barely even considering her own need to breathe. in fact, she doesn't stop until victoria tugs her away, and that embarrassing little whine falls from her throat again as she takes shallow breaths, her lungs rushing to fill again after so much deprivation. this time, though, victoria looks bemused or perhaps even endeared at her frustration, pulling yolanda up into a lazy, sloppy kiss that's half teeth, half victoria's slick still coating her lips. "mine, huh?" victoria questions coyly as she rearranges her panties, fumbling with the thin string stretching across her hipbone so it lies flat. if yolanda stares at it any longer, she's pretty sure she might try to tear the waistband apart with her teeth, so she instead turns to grab a paper towel, wetting it slightly before gliding it across victoria's thighs in an effort to clean at least some of the mess she's made. she's pretty sure her face is somewhat flushed, and the honeyed grin plain across victoria's face when she looks back up is evidence enough of the truth.
yolanda hasn't done this, reacted to something like this in a long time, maybe ever, and it's frighteningly vulnerable. she feels naked, ironically, given that she's completely clothed and victoria's miniskirt is still bunched up at her stomach. it's not there for long, though, as victoria hops down from the countertop, shimmies her skirt back down to an acceptable length (although, still too high for yolanda's taste) and gives herself a once-over in the mirror. it's sort of useless; anyone with eyes could tell what's happened between them, which, is probably the point, yolanda realizes as victoria pulls out her phone to snap a selfie in the mirror (one that not only showcases victoria's freshly fucked out expression but also almost certainly has the back of yolanda's head in frame), before casually striding forward to flip the latch on the bathroom door.
"see you tomorrow, dr. garcia," she hums as she returns back to the bar, leaving yolanda alone, although not without a quick, "you'll say hi to eileen for me, won't you?"