The text comes in at 2:47 am, a buzz against your nightstand that you feel in your bones before your brain even registers the sound.

*U up mami?*

Three months. Three months of this exact same fucking song and dance, and still your thumb hovers over the screen like you don't already know what you're going to do. Like you haven't been lying in the dark for the past hour, replaying the last time. The way her teeth scraped down your throat, the sound of her laugh against your skin when you told her you meant it this time, for real.

Your phone lights up again.

*Te quiero ver.*

I want to see you.

You're pulling on jeans before you can stop yourself, your fingers trembling as you button them. The drive to her house is muscle memory at this point. Past the twenty-four-hour colmado, the curve where the road dips toward the coast and the security gate where the guard just nods because he knows your car. He's seen you here too many times to pretend otherwise.

The front door is unlocked. It's always unlocked when she texts. The house smells like her. Coconut, cigarettes and something sharp underneath, like air before a storm. The lights are low, just the glow from the kitchen and the blue flicker of a TV she's not watching in the living room. You find her on the couch, sprawled out in nothing but a tank top and boxers, her hair pulled back from her face. She looks up at you with that half-smile that makes your stomach drop every single time.

"Look who finally showed up." Her voice is rough, like she's been smoking, and you hate how it settles warm in your chest anyway.

"Don't." You stand in the doorway, arms crossed. "Don't act like you didn't know I would."

Vicky's smile widens. She spreads her legs a little, settling deeper into the cushions. "That's why I love you. Always so predictable." She pats the space beside her. "Come. You look tense."

"I am tense." You don't move. "I told you last time-"

"I know what you told me." Her eyes rake down your body, slow and deliberate. "You told me a lot of things. You also told me you weren't coming back. And yet." She gestures at you, at the door you walked through. "Here you are."

The worst part is she's right. The worst part is you came here before she even asked, and she knows it. She's always known it.

"Come here" she says again, softer this time. "Please." That one word-please-undoes everything. It always does.

You cross the room on legs that don't feel like your own and let her pull you down onto the couch, let her arrange you until you're straddling her lap, your thighs bracketing her hips. Her hands find your waist immediately, fingers slipping under the hem of your shirt to rest against bare skin.

"There she is." Her thumbs trace slow circles against your hipbones. "There's my girl."

"I'm not your girl."

"You're in my house. On my lap. At three in the morning." She tilts her head, amused. "Sounds like my girl to me." You should push away. You should stand up, walk out, get in your car, and block her number this time. You've done it before- twice, actually. The longest you lasted was five days, and by the end of it you were checking your phone every thirty seconds like a goddamn addict.

Vicky's hand slides up your back, pressing you closer until your chest is against hers. She's warm, always so warm, and the chain around her neck is cool where it brushes your collarbone.

"Tell me you missed me." she murmurs, her lips hovering near your jaw. "No."

"I hate you." The words come out before you can stop the pathetic lie. "So much."

Her laugh is a soft exhale against your throat. "I know, baby. I know." Her teeth graze your pulse point, and you shiver. "But you're here anyway. That's what matters."

She kisses you before you can argue, and God, you've missed this. The way she kisses, all tongue and teeth and control. Her hand fists in your hair, tilting your head back so she can lick into your mouth like she owns it, like she has a right to every part of you.

You hate how good it feels. You hate how your body responds before your brain can catch up, how your hips start rolling against hers like they have a mind of their own.

"Mm, that's it baby." Vicky's voice is lower now, rougher. "I know what you need. You always think you don't, but you do."

"Vicky-"

"Shh." She bites your bottom lip, tugging gently before letting go. "Let me take care of you. That's why you came, right?"

Her hands find the button of your jeans, and you let her undress you piece by piece. Jeans and underwear and shirt, until you're bare on her lap and she's still fully clothed, and the power imbalance sits heavy in your chest.

"Look at you." Her fingers trail down your stomach, slow, teasing. "So pretty like this. All mine."

"Casual." you manage, breathless. "This is casual."

"Sure, baby." She's grinning as she shifts you onto your back, pressing you into the cushions. Her body covers yours, warm and solid. "Whatever helps you sleep at night."

She kisses down your throat, your chest, taking her time. Her mouth is hot and wet and she knows exactly where to linger, knows that the spot just below your ear makes you gasp. She's mapped every inch of you over the past months, and she uses that knowledge like a weapon.

"I missed this" she admits against your sternum, her tongue tracing a path lower. "Missed the sounds you make. Missed the way you say my name."

"You don't get to say that." Your voice cracks. "You don't get to act like you care."

She looks up at you, her mouth still pressed to your ribs, and there's something in her eyes that makes your chest ache. Something raw and real but it's gone before you can name it, replaced by that familiar smirk.

"Who said anything about caring?" Her hand slides between your thighs, fingers parting your folds, and you forget how to breathe. "I'm just saying- I missed this. The way you feel. The way you taste." She presses a finger inside you, just one, and your back arches off the couch. "The way you fall apart for me."

Your hands fist in the cushions as she works you open, slow and deliberate, her thumb finding your clit with practiced precision. She watches your face the whole time. Every expression and every flutter of your eyelids.

"That's it" she murmurs. "Let me feel you."

You're close embarrassingly fast, but she pulls her hand away before you can tip over, ignoring your whimper of protest.

"Not yet." She sits up, reaching for something on the floor beside the couch. A harness, already buckled, with a strap attached that makes your mouth go dry. "I want to feel you gag on this first."

She steps into the harness with ease, adjusting the straps before looking down at you with dark eyes. The strap stands proud between her legs, and she wraps her hand around it, stroking once, twice, watching you watch her.

"Open." It's not a request. You don't even pretend to hesitate. You kneel up, taking the silicone cock into your mouth, and Vicky's hand finds the back of your head immediately, guiding you deeper.

"That's fucking right." Her voice drops into Spanish, rough and low. "Así, mami. Trágatela toda."(Swallow it all)

You hollow your cheeks, taking her as deep as you can, and she groans above you. A sound that's equal parts pleasure and praise. Her hips rock forward slightly, fucking your mouth in a slow, shallow rhythm.

"Te gusta?" She watches you through half-lidded eyes. "Te gusta tener mi verga en esa boquita tuya."(You like to have my dick in that little mouth of yours)

You can't answer, can't do anything but take her, your eyes watering as she pushes deeper. The sounds you make are obscene. Wet and desperate- and she drinks them in like she's starving.

"Look at you." Her thumb traces your cheekbone. "Tan puta para mí." (Such a whore for me)

She holds you there for a long moment, buried to the hilt, letting you struggle and breathe through your nose. When she finally pulls back, you gasp for air, saliva trailing from your lips to the tip of the strap.

"Good girl." She strokes your hair back from your face, almost tender. "Now get on your hands and knees."

You move without thinking, positioning yourself on the couch cushions, your ass in the air. The leather of the couch creaks beneath your weight. You can hear her behind you, can hear the slick sound of her hand on the strap, and you press your face into the cushion to muffle the sound of your own need.

"Mira esto.” (Look at this) Her hand runs down your spine, over the curve of your ass. "So wet for me already. You been like this all night? Thinking about this?"

"Maybe." Your voice is muffled.

"Maybe." She laughs, soft and cruel. "Mentirosa. Sabes exactamente por qué viniste aquí". (You know exactly what you came here for)

She lines herself up, the tip of the strap pressing against your entrance, and you brace yourself. But she doesn't push in yet. She just holds it there, teasing, letting you feel the pressure without the relief.

"Tell me what you want."

"Vicky, please."

"Please what?" She drags the tip through your slick, slow circles that make your thighs tremble. "Use your words, bebita. Qué quieres?"

"Fuck me." The words tear out of you. "I want you to fuck me."

"See? That wasn't so hard."

She pushes in, and you cry out- a sound that's equal parts relief and desperation. She's slow at first, letting you adjust, letting you feel every inch of the silicone sliding into you. Her hands grip your hips hard enough to bruise.

"Fuck, yeah." Her voice is strained. "You feel that? Sientes mi verga adentro?"(Do you feel my dick inside?)

"Yes-God, yes-"

"Te tengo." She starts to move, a steady rhythm that builds with every thrust. "I got you, baby. I'm gonna fuck you so good you forget your own fucking name."

And she does. She fucks you hard and deep, her hips slapping against yours, the sounds of it echoing off the walls. She leans forward, pressing her chest to your back, and her mouth finds your ear.

"Mírate." Her voice is a whisper now, intimate. "Soaking my strap. Soaking my couch. Todo para mí."

You're babbling, nonsense words and pleas, and she eats it up, each desperate sound driving her faster. Her hand slips around to your front, fingers finding your clit, and she works you in time with her thrusts.

"Come for me." Her words were not a suggestion it was a demand she wanted you to make happen now. "Now."

Your orgasm rips through you, sudden and violent, and you scream into the cushion as your body clenches around the strap. She fucks you through it, groaning at the way you squeeze her, until you're trembling and spent beneath her.

She pulls out slowly and you collapse onto the couch, limp and breathless. You barely register the sound of the harness unbuckling, barely register the weight of her body settling beside you.

But then her mouth is between your thighs, warm and wet, and you yelp in surprise. Her tongue finds your clit, still oversensitive, and you whimper at the intensity. She's relentless, her fingers sliding back inside you as she sucks and laves, drawing out every last tremor of your first orgasm while building you toward another.

"Vicky- I can't-"

"You can." Her tongue curls inside you, and your hands fly to her head, fisting in her hair. "Give me one more. Una más para mí."(One more for me)

She works you with single-minded focus, moving between her tongue and her fingers, switching rhythms every time you get close until you're a desperate, sobbing mess beneath her.

"Please-please, Vicky-"

"Please what?" She looks up at you, her chin wet, her eyes dark. "Please let you come? Pídemelo."(Ask.)

"Please let me come." Your voice breaks. "Please, I need it-"

"Necesitas venirte para mí?"(You need to come for me?) She dips her head, tongue flat against your clit. "Then come. Now."

You do. You shatter, your vision going white as you clench around her fingers, as she works you through it with gentle, steady pressure until you're too sensitive to take anymore.

She crawls up your body, settling beside you, and for a long moment there's nothing but the sound of both of you breathing, the smell of sex thick in the air.

Then she pulls you against her chest, her arm wrapping around your waist, and your body melts into her warmth. Her lips press to your forehead.

"Te quedas esta noche."(You're staying tonight) It's not even a question at this point. You lie there in the dark, listening to her heartbeat slow beneath your ear, and the familiar shame starts to creep in. The same shame that always comes after, when the high fades and reality settles back into your bones.

"Vicky."

"Mm?"

"This is the last time."

She doesn't say anything for a long moment. Just strokes your hair, slow and soothing. "I mean it." You push yourself up to look at her, needing her to see how serious you are. "I can't keep doing this. It's killing me."

She looks up at you, her expression unreadable. Then her mouth curves into that familiar smile- soft, knowing and absolutely devastating.

"Okay, baby."

"You don't believe me."

"I believe you mean it." Her hand cups your cheek, thumb tracing your jaw. "Right now. In this moment. I believe you think this is the last time."

"It is."

"Sure." She pulls you back down, tucking your head under her chin. "We'll see."

You want to argue. You want to push away, to prove her wrong, to finally have the last word. But her arms are so warm around you, and her body is familiar, and the night is dark and quiet, and you're so, so tired.

So you stay.

And when your phone buzzes tomorrow night, and the night after that, and the night after that- you'll tell yourself the same thing. This is the last time. You mean it this time.

And you'll keep meaning it, right up until the moment her name lights up your screen, and your thumb hovers over the message, and you realize that some addictions don't have a cure.

Some addictions have a name.

Vicky's laugh echoes in your head as you drift off. Not cruel, not mocking but knowing that you will end uo in the same place again. The laugh of someone who's already seen the end of this movie, and knows exactly how it goes.

*We’ll see*

You kicked the door shut behind you, the heavy thud cutting through the lingering bass from the party that still hummed in your ears. Your shared house in Puerto Rico felt warm even at night, the balcony doors cracked open letting in salt air and distant traffic.

Victoria stood a few feet away, boots planted on the tile, her short hair messy from the wind on the drive home. Her brown shirt stuck slightly to her skin, the sleeves slumg around her biceps where tattoos wound up her arm. A silver chain rested on her collarbone, catching the low lamplight as her chest rose and fell hard.

"De verdad vas a quedarte ahí como si nada hubiera pasado?” (You really gonna stand there like nothing happened?") she started, voice low but already cracking at the edges. "At my release party, mami. My night. And there's some girl with her hand on your back, leaning in like you two were the only ones in the room."

You set your bag on the counter, turning to face her. The argument had been building since the car, but here it hit full force. "Vicky, she was someone from the label. She wanted to talk about the album. I said thanks in your behalf and moved on. I didn't flirt."

She paced two steps one way, then back, running a hand through her hair so the tattoos on her forearm flexed. "Didn't flirt? I watched the whole thing. She touched your waist like twice. You smiled at her like you meant it. Like you weren't standing right next to me all night." Her accent thickened on the Spanish. "¿Qué carajo? Crees que no me doy cuenta cuando alguien te mira así?” (You think I don't see when someone looks at you like that?")

You crossed your arms, but the heat in her words pulled your attention elsewhere. She was losing it. Jaw tight, cheeks flushed darker than the party whiskey had left them. The way her shirt stretched across her chest, the chain shifting with every breath, the way her tattoos moved like they were alive under her skin when she gestured. She looked dangerous and magnetic at the same time. You couldn't stop staring. The anger made her hotter, that raw possessiveness sharpening every line of her body.

"It was nothing, Vicky. The party was for you. I was there for you." Your voice stayed even, but your eyes stayed on the vein standing out along her throat.

She stopped pacing. Her dark eyes locked on yours, then flicked down when she caught you looking too long. A sharp little laugh came out. "You staring at me like that while I'm this pissed? You like it? Me losing my shit over some random girl touching you?"

The words landed low in your stomach. Heat crawled up your neck. "Maybe I do." you admitted, the honesty slipping out before you could pull it back. "You're hot when you're jealous."

That lit something. Victoria crossed the space in three strides. Her hands grabbed your hips hard, yanking you forward until your body met hers. "Hot?" she scoffed against your mouth. The kiss was rough from the start, all teeth and tongue, tasting like the whiskey she'd drunk and the anger still rolling off her. She backed you into the wall beside the couch, one thigh pushing between yours. The denim rubbed through your dress, and you felt the solid press of her.

She broke the kiss just enough to breathe. „I'm gonna fuck the thought of that girl right out of you.” Her hand slid up under your dress, fingers hooking the waistband of your panties and yanking them down your thighs in one impatient tug. They dropped to your ankles. You kicked them aside as her fingers found your pussy, already slick from the tension and the sight of her.

Two fingers dragged through your folds, spreading the wetness up to your clit. She circled slow at first, pressing just enough to make your hips twitch, then slid those same fingers inside you without warning. The stretch pulled a moan from your throat. She fucked them in deep, curling on every pull, the wet sound filling the room along with her breathing. Her other hand stayed on your hip, holding you still against the wall.

But she wanted her mouth on you. She dropped to her knees right there, the sudden change making your stomach flip. Her short hair brushed your inner thighs as she spread you wider with both hands. Her tongue dragged a long, slow lick from your entrance to your clit, the flat of it pressing firm. The taste of you on her tongue made her groan low, the vibration shooting straight through you.

She ate like she was still angry. Tongue flicking fast over your clit, then pushing inside. Her fingers stayed buried, two of them thrusting in time with her tongue. You grabbed at her shoulders, feeling the hard muscle under your palms. The scent of her perfume mixed with sweat and the faint ocean air from the open doors.

She brought you close fast. Your thighs started to shake, breath catching, the coil in your belly tightening. Then she pulled her mouth away, fingers slowing to a lazy pump that kept you right on the edge without tipping you over. „Aún no.”(Not yet.) she said, voice rough, breath hot against your wet skin. "You don't come until I say."

You whined, hips trying to chase her mouth. She just kissed your inner thigh, then your other, letting the frustration build. When she thought you'd calmed enough, her tongue returned, circling your clit again while her fingers curled harder inside. The second time you were close, she stopped the same way pulling back, blowing cool air over your throbbing clit, watching your face.

"Please, Vicky." you gasped, fingers tight in her hair. "I need it. Please let me come."

She looked up at you, eyes still dark with the leftover jealousy. "Dime que eres mía."(tell me you’re mine) she demanded, voice quiet.

"Soy tuya. Solo tuya. Baby please."

That earned a small, satisfied noise from her. Hearing you speak her language to please her mede her gave in. Her mouth sealed over your clit, sucking hard, while her fingers started fucking you, stretching you open with every thrust. The rhythm turned relentless, palm slapping against you on the in-strokes. Your orgasm hit sudden and deep, your pussy clenching around her fingers, wetness coating her hand and chin as you came with a broken cry. She kept licking through it, drawing it out until your legs trembled too hard to stand straight.

Vicky rose, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, then kissing you so you tasted yourself on her tongue. She stripped while you caught your breath. Shirt peeled off, revealing the tattoos across her ribs and stomach, pants and panties shoved down in one motion. Her body was all lean muscle and ink, her own pussy glistening when she stepped out of the clothes.

She lifted you again, carrying you the short distance to the bedroom without letting you down. The bed met your back, sheets cool against overheated skin. She climbed over you, settling between your spread thighs. Her fingers found you again, two sliding back inside even as you were still sensitive, fucking slow and deep while she kissed your neck, then your breasts, sucking a nipple into her mouth.

She didn't rush to her own pleasure. Instead she shifted, swinging a leg so her thigh rested against your hip. She took your hand and guided it between her legs, pressing your fingers against her slick folds. "Touch me while I fuck you baby" she said, the order soft but firm.

Your fingers slid into her easily, feeling how wet the whole argument had left her. She rocked down onto them, riding the motion while her own fingers kept working on you. The position let her grind her clit against your thigh at the same time, the wet drag of her pussy on your skin hot and slick. She set the pace herself. Fingers thrusting harder into you, hips rolling faster on your hand.

The room filled with the sounds of it: the wet slide of fingers, her low curses in Spanish, your own shaky breaths. "Mira lo que me haces"(look what you do to me) she muttered, grinding down harder. Every roll of her hips pressed her clit firmer against you while her fingers curled inside your pussy, hitting that spot again even after your first orgasm.

She came with a sharp cry, body locking up over you, her walls squeezing your fingers in tight pulses. Her juices slicked your palm and thigh as she shuddered through it, forehead pressed to your shoulder. The aftershocks made her hips twitch once more before she stopped.

For a long moment she just breathed against your skin, the anger finally bled out. Then she pulled her fingers free and kissed you slow and deep, no teeth this time. She rolled to the side, pulling you with her so your head rested on her chest, one tattooed arm draped over your waist. The chain around her neck was warm against your cheek.

"Lo siento." she said quietly after a minute, voice back to normal. "Got too carried away with the jealousy. I know you weren't doing anything. I just...hate seeing anyone else near you like that."

You let your finger wander on her arm with your fingertip, tracing her tattoos. "I know. And I'm yours. Always."

She kissed the top of your head, fingers stroking lazy circles on your bare hip. The ocean breeze moved the curtain by the window, bringing the night sounds of Puerto Rico in with it. Distant waves, a car horn far off. She pulled the sheet over both of you, settling in. The party felt like another lifetime already. You closed your eyes to the steady beat of her heart under your ear, the faint scent of her skin and the salt air mixing together as you both let yourself catch your breaths. Warm silence settled in the kind that wraps around you instead of pressing down.

Vicky shifted beside you, propping herself up on one elbow, studying your face like she was trying to read something written there. “You know” she said, squinting a little, “I think I should start picking fights more often.”

You cracked an eye open. “Absolutely not.”

“I’m serious.” she grinned, her spark finally back. “We argue, we make up…I win either way.”

You sit cross-legged on the worn leather sofa in the backstage lounge, the air thick with the sharp smell of hairspray and perfume. The room is a chaotic: Mirrors lined with bright bulbs reflecting stylists darting around, brushes scraping against palettes, the low hum of blow dryers competing with muffled chatter from the other prep room. Your eyes are locked on Victoria, as she stands under the assault of her makeup artist's hands. She's in her pre-show ritual, head tilted back slightly while Jonuel dabs shimmering highlighter across her sharp cheekbones. Her hair pulled into tight ponytail, making her look like a goddess ready to command the stage.

She's wearing cropped top that clings to her chest. Low-slung pants hug her hips, revealing a sliver of smooth skin and the edge of black lace panties. Every movement she makes- the subtle arch of her back as Christian pins a strand of her hair, the way her full lips part in concentration, sends a fresh wave of heat pooling between your thighs. You can't tear your gaze away. Her eyes, defined so perfectly with eyeliner, flicker occasionally toward the mirror, but you know she's aware of you, always aware.

The world narrows to her. The stylists' voices blur into white noise, the distant roar of the crowd filtering through the walls like a heartbeat. Your breath quickens, chest rising and falling faster, thighs pressing together under your short skirt- the one Vicky picked out for you this morning, whispering *te ves tan rica en eso, mi amor*(you look so hot in that, my love) while her fingers skimmed your inner thigh. You don't notice the makeup artist stepping back, declaring her done with a satisfied nod. Don't notice Vicky murmuring a quick *gracias* before turning fully toward you, her feet padding silently across the carpeted floor.

Suddenly, weight settles on your hips. Victoria straddles you in one fluid motion, her thighs bracketing yours, pants creaking softly as she sinks down. Her heat radiates through the thin barrier of fabric, pressing right against your core. You gasp, startled, hands flying up to grip her waist on instinct. Her skin is warm under your palms, smooth and firm, a faint sheen of body oil making her glisten under the vanity lights.

"Qué pasa, bebita?”(what’s up baby?) she murmurs, her voice low and husky, lips curving into that wicked smirk as she leans in close. Her breath fans hot across your cheek, carrying the minty bite of her gum mixed with the subtle vanilla of her lip gloss. "Estabas mirándome como si quisieras comerme viva. ¿Tan desesperada estás ya?" (You were looking at me as if you wanted to eat me alive. Are you so desperate already?) One hand cups your jaw, thumb tracing your bottom lip, while the other slides down to rest on your thigh, fingers digging in just enough to make you squirm.

Your face burns, a flush creeping up your neck, but you can't deny it. Your pussy throbs at her words, arousal soaking through your panties. "Vicky, I...you look so good now." you whisper, voice breathy, eyes darting to her mouth. Up close, her makeup is flawless: glossy lips parted slightly, dark lashes framing eyes that pin you in place. She's so close you can smell her signature scent.Smoky perfume laced with the citrusy body oil on her skin.

She chuckles softly, the sound vibrating through her chest into yours, her breasts brushing your collarbone as she shifts her weight. "You look like you're about to cum just from staring, cariño." Her hips roll once, grinding against you. The friction sends a jolt straight to your clit, and you bite your lip to stifle a moan, feeling the dampness spread. The sofa dips under you both, springs creaking faintly, but the noise is swallowed by the her team chatter in the next room. Doors half-open, voices carrying snippets about setlists and time schedules.

Her fingers trail up your thigh, pushing your skirt higher, nails scraping lightly over the sensitive skin. "Shh" she breathes against your ear, nipping the lobe gently, teeth grazing the soft flesh. "Equipo está al lado. No hagas ruido, or they'll hear how wet you get for me." (Team is right next to us. Don’t make any noise.)

You nod frantically, heart pounding, as her hand slips under your skirt, fingertips brushing the edge of your soaked panties. The cotton is clinging to your folds, and she hums approval, pressing two fingers right over your clit through the fabric.

"Oh god, Vicky." you whimper, hips bucking up instinctively. Your hands clutch her hips tighter, feeling the flex of muscle under fabric as she rocks against you again. Her free hand tangles in your hair, tugging your head back to expose your throat. She licks a slow stripe up your neck, tasting your skin, her tongue hot and wet.

"Así, mi amor. Quiet." she commands, accent thickening with need. She hooks your panties aside with one finger, exposing your dripping pussy to the cool air. The sudden exposure makes you shiver and let out a small whine. Her fingers circle your entrance teasingly, gathering your slickness. The wet sounds are obscene, but she doesn't stop, dipping one finger inside you slowly.

Your walls clench around her immediately, greedy for more as she was stretching you just right. She pumps it in and out slowly, thumb finding your clit and rubbing firm circles. "Fuck, estás tan mojada para mí. Always ready, aren't you?" (You’re so wet for me)

Her words are punctuated by the curl of her finger inside you, hitting that spot that makes stars burst behind your eyelids. You gasp, mouth falling open, but she covers it with her own hand, palm pressing firm over your lips, muffling the sound.

The pressure of her hand, the taste of her skin pushes you higher. Your hips grind up to meet her thrusts, pussy squelching around her finger as she adds a second, stretching you wider. The fabric of her pants is rough against your inner thighs, the texture contrasting the slick glide of her fingers. She's breathing harder now, nipples hard agaist her top, grinding her hips down harder against your thigh for friction.

"Shh, bebita, listen." she whispers, eyes locking on yours, dark and intense. Voices from the next room. “Dónde está el micrófono de repuesto?”(Where is the spare microphone?) filter through, making your pulse spike with thrill.

She fucks you faster, fingers scissoring inside, thumb flicking your clit relentlessly. Your body tenses, thighs trembling around her hips, the sofa creaking rhythmically under the motion. Sweat beads on your forehead, mixing with the vanilla scent clinging to her hair as it brushes your face.

You cum hard, walls spasming around her fingers, a muffled cry vibrating against her palm. Gush of wetness coats her hand, dripping down soaking the leather beneath you. She doesn't stop, riding you through it, her own breath hitching as she grinds against your thigh, chasing her release. "Just like that” she praises softly, removing her hand from your mouth to kiss you deeply to taste your whimpers. Her fingers slow to a gentle pump, drawing out every aftershock until you're limp and panting beneath her.

But she's not done. Vicky pulls her fingers free with a wet pop, bringing them to her lips and sucking them clean, eyes never leaving yours. The sight- her tongue swirling around her own digits, tasting you- makes your oversensitive pussy twitch. "Que rico" she murmurs, then slides her hand back down, circling your entrance again. "One more, for luck before the show. Puedes estar en silencio para mí?” (Can you be quiet for me?")

You nod, boneless, whispering, "Yes, Vicky please." She grins, and sinks her fingers in- the stretch burning sweetly. Her thumb presses your clit, and she leans back slightly, one hand bracing on the sofa arm for leverage. The new angle lets her hit deeper, knuckles brushing your g-spot with every thrust. Her pants are riding low now, exposing the curve of her hip bone, and you can't resist. Your hands slide under her top, palming her breasts, thumbs circling her hard nipples underneath the fabric.

She moans low, biting her lip to stifle it, hips snapping forward to grind her clothed pussy on your thigh while she finger-fucks you mercilessly. The dual sensation- her fingers curling inside, the wet heat of her arousal seeping through fabric onto your skin, builds you up fast. Your pussy flutters, walls gripping her tight, the obscene squelch louder now despite your efforts. Voices rise next door. “Cinco minutos!” adding urgency, your heart hammering in sync with her thrusts.

"Cum for me again, mi vida." she demands, voice rough, pinching your nipple through the shirt. It tips you over, orgasm crashing through you like a wave, thighs clamping around her hand as you soak her fingers. She follows seconds later, shuddering against you, a choked *joder* escaping her lips as her hips stutter, pussy pulsing against your leg.

Panting, she collapses forward, forehead resting against yours, lips brushing in soft, lazy kisses. Her fingers slip free, and she tucks your panties back into place gently, smoothing your skirt down. "Te amo" she whispers with a laugh, as you said it back breathlessly. "Now, let's go. Show's starting."

She stands first, offering her hand, pulling you up with her as if she didn’t just make you see stars. Your legs wobble, pussy still throbbing with aftershocks, slickness trickling down your thigh, but she steadies you with an arm around your waist. The lounge feels smaller now, room empty save for scattered brushes and the lingering scent of sex masked by hairspray. Vicky adjusts her pants, zipping them fully, then laces her fingers with yours, leading you out.

The hallway is a blur of crew members rushing past you. Vicky walks with that confident strut, hips swaying, but her thumb strokes soothing circles on your hand, grounding you. Your body hums with satisfaction. She glances back, smiling softly. "Stay close, yeah? Want to see you watching me."

You squeeze her hand, whispering, "Always." The roar of the crowd grows louder as you near the stage door, bass thumping through the floor like a pulse. Backstage opens up. Tangled cables snaking across concrete, monitors glowing with set cues, techs signaling thumbs-up. Vicky pauses at the edge, turning to cup your face, kissing you slow and deep, tongue tangling sweetly.

"Después del show, eres mía toda la noche." (After the show, you’re mine all night.) she promises against your lips, then pulls away as Mariana drags her away. She blows you a kiss, striding onto the stage among the roar of screen from the crowd. You slip into position backstage, heart swelling as the lights hit her.

The sun hung heavy over Puerto Rico, turning the air thick and golden. The pool shimmered in the light, its water lapping gently against the tiled edges, carrying the faint salt tang of the nearby ocean on the breeze. You lounged on a cushioned chaise by the poolside, your skin already kissed warm by the sun, a thin bikini cover draped loosely over your bikini bottoms. Your eyes, though, weren't on the horizon or the swaying palms. They were locked on her.

Victoria was stretched out on the lounge chair beside you. She was a vision in that tiny playboy bikini, the blue fabric hugging her hips like a second skin. Tattoos snaked across her arms and stomach sharp against her sun-bronzed skin. Her dark hair fanned out wet from an earlier dip, strands clinging to her neck and shoulders, tracing paths down her collarbone and between the swell of her perfect breasts. The bikini top barely covered them, the triangles straining just enough to hint at edges of her nipples beneath.

God, you wanted to devour her. The thought hit you like a electric pulse, heat pooling low in your belly as you watched a droplet slide over the cherry bloosom tattoo along her stomach. Your mouth watered, literally- saliva gathering under your tongue as you imagined peeling that scrap of fabric aside and burying your face there. But you held back, savoring the ache, the way your thighs pressed together instinctively under the sheer bikini cover.

She caught you staring, her lips curving into a lazy smile. "Qué miras tanto, mi amor?" Her voice was soft, husky from the endless nights singing lyrics to adoring crowds. Now, with a rare break snatched from her schedule, she was all yours, stretched out like a gift under the sun. She propped herself on one elbow, looking at you with raised eyebrow.

You swallowed, your voice coming out breathier than intended. "You. Always you." Your fingers itched to touch, but you reached for the sunscreen bottle instead, squirting a bit into your palm. "Turn over. You're gonna burn."

Vicky laughed, rolling onto her stomach with a fluid grace that made your pulse stutter. The dragon tattoo on her back flexed. You knelt beside her, knees sinking into the warm cushion, and spread the lotion over her shoulders. Her skin was hot from the sun, slick already with a sheen of sweat and pool water, smelling of coconut oil you massaged earlier imto her skin.

"Mmm" she hummed as your hands glided down her spine, thumbs pressing into the dip above her ass. "Eso se siente bien. He estado tan tenso por la gira." Her words were casual, but you heard how her breath hitched when your fingers brushed the edge of the bikini.

"I know I’m really glad you’re home now." you murmured, voice steady despite the hunger clawing at your throat. Lean into the moment. Build it slow.

She sighed, chin resting on folded arms. "Missed this. You. Quiet. No lights, no screams." The breeze rustled the palms, carrying the distant crash of waves, and her scent intensified. Sun-warmed skin, a hint of chlorine, and that sweetness between her thighs that you could help but need more with every passing second.

Your hands trembled now, lotion forgotten as you traced the pink tie at her hip. One tug, and it'd unravel. But not yet. You wanted her begging, soft and pliant, her tough-singer facade melting under your worship. "Pool time?" you suggested thumb circling the tattoo on her lower back.

"Sí" she whispered, pushing up to her knees. The movement arched her back, ass presented like an offering. You shook your head standing up, shedding the cover, your own bikini in your favorite color hugged your curves. Hips swaying as you walked to the pool's edge. Vicky followed, her bare feet padding behind you, close enough that her breath ghosted your neck.

The water was shockingly cool against the heat of your skin as you both slipped in, the surface rippling around your waists. She surfaced first, water streaming from her hair, bikini top translucent now, nipples hard and straining the blue fabric. You floated closer, hands finding her waist under the water, pulling her against you. Her body was strong from stage energy, but she melted into you immediately pressing her chest to yours.

"Te amo baby" she breathed, lips brushing your jaw, arms looping around your neck. The water lapped at your joined bodies, cool against heated skin. Your hands roamed her back, fingers tangling in the wet strings, but still you teased her.

Her breath stuttered. "Stop teasing me." She huffed but she take control. Victoria, the queen of the stage, turned to putty in your hands, eyes half-lidded with that needy gleam.

You kissed her then, slow and deep, tongues tangling with the taste of salt and sunscreen. Her lips were soft, a small whimper escaping as you backed her against the pool wall. The tile was rough against her back, contrasting the smooth glide of your bodies. Your thigh pressed between hers, feeling the heat radiating through the thin fabric. She ground down instinctively on your leg, a gasp muffled against your mouth.

Pulling back, you drank in the sight: cheeks flushed, tattoos glistening, bikini soaked. You wanted to taste her, worship every inch. "Out." you commanded softly as you both coudnt take it anymore. She obeyed, climbing the steps with water dripping off her body.

Back on the loungers, towels forgotten, you positioned her on her back, knees parted. The sun beat down, warming the air thick with humidity and her arousal. You knelt between her legs, hands on her thighs, thumbs stroking the soft skin. "So fucking beautiful." you murmured, leaning in to nuzzle into her inner thigh. The scent hit you. arousal mixed with chlorine was too intoxicating. Your mouth watered, lips brushing the blue fabric covering her.

Vicky's hands fisted the cushion, breath coming in shallow pants. "Please…" Her hips twitched upward, begging. You pressed your mouth over the bikini, tongue flattening against the damp material. The fabric was rough against your lips. You licked slow, broad strokes, tasting her through the material. You could feel her wetness seeping through, clit swelling under the pressure. She moaned, low and broken, thighs quivering around your head. The sound vibrated through you, your own pussy aching, nipples tight against your bikini top.

"Fuck, yes" she gasped, one hand grasoing into your hair holding on. You sucked at the fabric over her clit, teeth grazing lightly, feeling it throb. You lapped relentlessly, nose buried in the fabric, inhaling her deeply. Her breaths turned to whimpers, hips bucking. "Mi amor, I need your mouth. Please." Tears of need glistened in her eyes, body arching.

You hooked a finger under the blue tie, tugging it down revealing her bare pussy.

Perfect. Yours.

You dove in, tongue spearing between her folds, tasting her directly now. Salty-sweet taste flooding your mouth, coating your chin. You groaned against her, vibrations making her cry out.

Worshipping her like the goddess she was, you licked from entrance to clit, slow and thorough. Your hands pinned her thighs wide, thumbs stroking the skin as she writhed. "You taste like heaven." you mumbled against her, sucking her clit between your lips, flicking with your tongue.

Vicky shattered fast. Legs shaking, back arching off the lounger. "Dios mio baby así nomás!" Her pussy clenched, juices gushing onto your tongue, thighs clamping your head as she rode the waves, moans echoing off the hills.

But you didn't stop, lapping softly through the aftershocks, kissing her inner thighs, whispering praises. "My perfect girl. So good for me."

She panted, eyes glazed with love, pulling you up for a messy kiss. Tasting herself on your lips. "Need to taste you." she whispered, voice trembling with eagerness. She flipped you gently, hands hungry on your body.

You lay back, bikini bottoms tugged aside by her eager fingers. Vicky settled between your legs, her wet hair draping your thighs, tattoos flexing as she lowered her mouth. Tension had built to this explosion, love wrapping every touch. Her tongue delved into you, slow laps mirroring your worship, drawing out your pleasure under the endless Puerto Rican sun.

She kissed your bikini line first, mirroring your tease, breath hot on your skin. The pool water still clung to her, cool droplets landing on your heated thighs. "Podría pasar horas aquí" she confessed, voice soft, needy eyes locked on yours.

"Please do." you breathed, fingers in her hair, guiding gently. Her tongue traced your outer lips through the fabric, the material thin enough to feel every flick. Your clit throbbed, arousal soaking through, her hum of appreciation vibrating straight to your core.

She peeled the bottoms down slowly, exposing your pussy slick and aching for her. She dove in tongue flat and broad, lapping from your entrance up to circle your clit. The taste of you made her moan, the sound wet and hungry, her hands gripping your thighs pulling you closer.

Her fingers slipped inside you. Two, curling perfectly while her mouth sucked your clit, relentless. You came hard back arching tugging on her hair with a loud cry of her name, Vicky drinking every drop, worshipping you back with all the passion you adored.

After the waves of your high slowed down, your body sank heavy into the lounger, chest heaving as the aftershocks rippled through you. Vicky lifted her head slowly, her lips curved in a satisfied smile, dark eyes sparkling with that intimate glow reserved only for you. She crawled up your body, knees bracketing your hips, her weight a comforting press against you. The sun-warmed fabric of her bikini top brushed your chest, her skin radiating heat that chased away the lingering coolness of the pool.

"Mi amor" she murmured, voice soft, framing your face with tattooed hands as she leaned down. Her breath ghosted your lips, carrying the faint tang of chlorine and sunscreen, before she sealed them in a deep, lingering kiss. Full of tenderness, tongues brushing lazily, tasting the salt of sweat and shared breath. Your hands roamed her back, fingers tracing the inked dragon that rose and fell with her steadying breaths, nails grazing lightly enough to raise goosebumps on her sun-kissed skin.

She pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, foreheads touching, strands of her wet hair draping across your cheek like cool silk threads. She nestled closer, one leg hooking over yours, her thigh pressing firm against your hip. The chaise cushions molded to your forms, cradling you in exhausted comfort. No words passed for long minutes. Silence spoke louder, filled with the lap of pool water against the edges and the soft hush of her breathing. Your hand found hers, fingers lacing together, palms slick with lotion sliding perfectly into place.

As the sun dipped toward the horizon, painting her skin in gold, Vicky tilted her head for another kiss. This one feather-light, a promise. "Te amo." she breathed against your mouth, the words simple, profound, carrying the weight of every missed call and hurried reunion. You echoed them back, pulling the thin bikini cover over both of you like a shared blanket, shielding your entwined bodies from the cooling evening air.

Victoria's house smelled like vanilla candles and the faint citrus tang of her favorite body spray, the kind that lingered on her skin after a long day in the studio. The late afternoon sun filtered through sheer white curtains, casting a golden haze over the living room where you both sprawled on the plush couch.

"Mira esto." she murmured, her voice soft and teasing, holding up her screen. The new camera she'd impulse-bought that morning sat unboxed on the coffee table. "Bought it for the vibes. Deberíamos probarlo. Crear algunos recuerdos baby."

You glanced at the device, a thrill sparking in your chest. The song she'd been blasting earlier-her latest, BIAF<3 still echoed in your head and you knew she bought the camera on purpose. "Yeah? What kind of memories?" Your fingers traced lazy circles on her thigh, feeling the warmth of her skin through her loose sweatpants.

She grinned, that smile that always made your stomach flip, and grabbed the camera. "The fun ones. Come on, posa para mi." She powered it on, the soft chime breaking the quiet hum of the AC. You shifted, propping yourself up on one elbow, arching your back just enough to push your chest forward. Your cropped tank top rode up, exposing the soft dip of your waist, and you knew she noticed. The way her breath hitched told you everything you needed to know.

*Click.* The shutter sound was crisp, digital but satisfying. She leaned in closer, her free hand brushing your hip. "Fuck, te ves bien así. Inclina la cabeza. Sí, así."

Heat bloomed low in your belly as you complied, parting your lips slightly, letting your tongue dart out to wet them. The camera captured it all, and she showed you the screen: your eyes heavy-lidded, skin glowing in the sunlight. "My pretty girl." she whispered, her thumb stroking your inner thigh now, inching higher. The touch sent a shiver through you, your nipples tightening against the thin fabric of your top.

You snatched the camera, straddling her lap in one fluid motion. She laughed softly, hands settling on your ass, squeezing just enough to make you gasp. "Alright, you freak." you teased, echoing her song's hook. "Your turn. Shirt off."

Vicky's eyes darkened, that playful spark igniting into something hungrier. She peeled off her tank top slowly, revealing the smooth expanse of her toned stomach, the black sports bra hugging her breasts. The scent of her skin- warm musk mixed with that citrus perfume filled your nose as you snapped pics. One of her tossing her hair back, another with her biting her lip, hands on her own chest. "Like that?" she asked, voice quiet, her fingers digging into your hips to grind you down against her.

"Yeah." You said absolutely mesmerized while capturing the way her abs flexed when she arched, the subtle sheen of sweat starting to pearl on her collarbone. But it wasn't enough. "Bra too."

She took it off without hesitation, letting it fall away. Her nipples hardened in the cool air and you zoomed in. *Click, click.* Her breathing grew ragged, chest rising and falling faster. "That’s hot, fuck" she said, her hand sliding under your top, thumb circling your nipple through the fabric. Her fingertip dragged just right, sending sparks straight to your core.

"Mhmm." You hummed ou setting the camera on burst mode, angling it to catch her face as you leaned down to kiss her neck, tasting the salt of her skin. She moaned low, the sound vibrating against your lips. When you pulled back, her cheeks were flushed, eyes glassy. "Touch yourself for me baby. I want to watch."

Her gaze locked on yours, a challenge and a plea all at once. "En serio?" But her hand was already drifting down, slipping under the waistband of her sweats. The fabric moved slightly as her fingers found her pussy, and you snapped away. Her head falling back against the couch, lips parting on a sigh, the way her thighs tensed.

"Spread your legs wider. Pose for me." You knelt between her knees now, pushing her sweats down her hips. She kicked them off, fully exposed. Her pussy glistening, folds slick and inviting, clit already swollen. The camera caught every detail. *Click.* The scent of her arousal hit you, musky and sweet, making your mouth water.

"Fuck, baby." she groaned, her free hand tangling in your hair. Two fingers now, sliding in and out with obscene wetness, the squelch audible over her quick breaths. You posed her. Hand her lifting one knee, angling her hips up. Each shot made her bolder, her moans turning into whimpers, hips bucking up into her own touch.

"Look at you, so fucking pretty for me." You set the camera on the table, switching to video mode, the red light blinking to life. "Don't stop. I want it all on tape."

She watched you undress then, eyes devouring as you stripped off your top, your shorts, revealing your soft breasts and the damp patch on your panties. "Come here." she panted, fingers still working her clit in slow circles. You climbed back onto her lap, facing the camera propped against a vase, and kissed her deeply. Her tongue slid against yours, tasting faintly of the strawberries we ate earlier while her slick fingers smeared across your thigh.

You ground down, your pussies brushing for the first time. The friction was electric, her clit nudging yours just right as you both found the perfect angle, and you both gasped into the kiss. "Fuck you feel good." you whispered against her mouth, rolling your hips.

She nodded frantically, hands gripping your ass to pull you closer, grinding up harder. The couch creaked under you, leather sticking slightly to your skin from the building sweat. "Yeah. Fuck, yeah. Grind on me, baby." Her voice cracked, raw and needy, as you set a rhythm. Slow at first, savoring the slide of her folds against yours, the way her wetness mixed with yours, dripping down her thighs.

The camera captured it all. "Pose for the camera." you commanded softly, lifting her chin to face it. She did, biting her lip as you grind on her. "Dile a todos cuánto te gusta.”

"Love your pussy baby, fuck gonna cum so hard for you." Her hips stuttered, chasing the pressure, and you felt her tense, inner walls clenching around nothing.

"Not yet." You slid off her lap, lying back on the couch and spreading your legs wide, pussy on full display for her and the camera. She crawled forward eagerly, settling between your thighs, her breath hot against your folds. "Eat me out first"

Her tongue flicked out, flat and broad, lapping from your entrance to your clit in one long stroke. You moaned, the wet heat of her mouth overwhelming. The texture of her tongue rough against your smooth skin, the faint scrape of her teeth as she sucked your clit gently.

"God, yes! Just like that." She hummed in response, the vibration shooting through you, and delved deeper, tongue fucking into your pussy with sloppy, eager thrusts. The taste of was driving her wild. She groaned like she was starving, hands spreading your thighs wider, nails digging into the soft flesh.

*Click* you grabbed the camera briefly, filming the way her face buried in your cunt, lips shiny with your arousal, chin dripping. "Look at the camera while you eat my pussy. Show them how good you are at it."

She did, eyes locking on the lens, tongue swirling your clit relentlessly. "Sabe jodidamente bien." she mumbled against you, the words buzzing right onto your sensitive nerves. Her fingers joined in, two slipping inside you easily, curling up to hit that spot that made see stars behind your eyes. The stretch burned so good, her knuckles pressing against your entrance as she pumped steadily.

You rocked into her face, one hand in her hair, guiding her. Sweat slicked your bodies now, the air thick with the scent of sex. Musk and salt and that underlying vanilla. Her free hand wandered to her own pussy again, rubbing in time with her thrusts into you, both of you chasing release together.

"Fuck, Vicky- harder." She obeyed, scissoring inside you, the wet squelch louder now, obscene and perfect. Your walls fluttered around her, orgasm building like a wave, thighs trembling against her shoulders. "Gonna cum! Don't stop, please."

"Cum for me." she urged, pulling back just enough to speak, her lips brushing your clit with every word. „Deja que la cámara te vea correrte en mi cara." Then her mouth was back, sucking hard, fingers thrusting relentlessly.

You shattered, pussy clenching around her fingers in rhythmic pulses, juices flooding her palm. The cry that tore from your throat was raw, echoing off the walls, your back arching off the couch. She worked you through it, tongue lapping softly as you shuddered, oversensitive sparks making you twitch.

But she wasn't done. As you caught your breath, she climbed up your body, straddling your waist now, her dripping pussy hovering over your stomach. "I need to cum baby." She grabbed the camera, handing it to you shakily, then positioned herself over your face, knees on either side of your head.

You pulled her down, tongue plunging into her folds immediately. She was soaked, flavor bursting on your tastebuds. Tangy and addictive, her arousal coating your chin.

*Video rolling* You angled the camera to capture her riding your face. Hips grinding down, clit bumping your nose with every roll. Her moans were constant now, breathy and desperate, hands braced on the couch arm above you.

"Joder, tu lengua se siente tan bien."Her scent enveloped you, heady and intimate, as she fucked herself on your mouth.

The rhythm built, her grinds faster, sloppier. "Pose baby." you mumbled against her, words muffled by her wetness. She arched back, one hand tweaking her nipple, the other spreading her lips wider for your tongue. The camera loved it. Her face contorted in pleasure, sweat dripping down her chest.

"I'm close- shit, so close." Her voice broke, hips stuttering. You sucked harder, tongue flicking her clit in rapid strokes. She came with a cry, pussy gushing over your chin, thighs clamping around your head as she rode out the waves. The taste of her release was everywhere, slick and warm, her body trembling above you.

She collapsed forward, kissing you messily, tasting herself on your lips. "Eso fue...joder."

She lied basically on top of you her leg hooked loosely over yours. For a while, you both stayed like that, drifting in and out of that quiet space as you tried to catch your breath. Then she let out a breathy laugh, the kind that comes when everything’s still buzzing a little too loud under your skin. “Yeah” she muttered, dragging a hand down her fact. “That was insane.” You snorted, rolling onto your side to look at her properly. “Speak for yourself.”

She turned her head slowly, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, I’m sorry-Quién se apoderó de la cámara como si fuera su trabajo a tiempo completo?”

“Excuse me?” you shot back, pointing lazily at the coffee table. “You bought it.”

“For the vibes.” she said, grinning.

“Right. Very wholesome vibes.” You gestured vaguely between the two of you, then toward the camera again. That got a real laugh out of her. She shoved your shoulder lightly. “Cállate. Disfrutaste cada segundo.” You didn’t even bother denying it. Just gave her a look. Your gaze flicked toward the camera on the table, and immediately she caught it. “Oh quieres verlo?” she said, already reaching for it.

You groaned like your whole confidence from earlier flew out of the window. “I didn’t say that.”

“Too late.” She grabbed it anyway, flipping it on like she’d done this a hundred times before. No hesitation as she scrolled. You leaned in despite yourself. For a few seconds, it was quiet. Both of you watching, taking it in. Then you let out a disbelieving laugh. “Hell no.”

“What?” she said, grinning without looking away.

“That’s crazy.” She finally glanced at you, eyes sharp, amused. “Lo grabaste tú mismo!”

You tried to argue, but nothing came out, and that just made her laugh again.

“Exacto” she said, nudging you with her shoulder. “Don’t hate.”

“I’m not hating,” you muttered. “I’m just saying you are a freak.” She turned toward you fully this time, tilting her head, studying your face like she was deciding something.Then she leaned in just a little, voice dropping. “Y te encanta.”

Before you could respond, she hit play again, this time not even pretending to be embarrassed. If anything, she looked entertained. Like she was watching something she already knew was good. You watched her more than the screen. The way she smirked slightly at certain moments, the way she leaned back like she was completely at ease, like none of this phased her at all.

“Okay” you said after a minute, nudging her and grabbing the camera from her hands. “You’re enjoying this a little too much.”

“Relax” she said, trying to grab the camera back. “I’m appreciating the art.” You leaned back again, letting your head fall against the couch.

„We’re so doing it again” She said with a proud smile resting her head on your chest. You looked down at her and shook your head with a laugh. She turned her head, that same confident grin creeping back.

“What?” she said. “Crees que eso fue algo que solo ocurrió una vez?” You stared at her for a second, then shook your head, laughing under your breath.

„I mean you got it for a reason” i said with a chuckle looking at her and back the camera.

The studio always felt smaller at night. The air got thicker somehow, like every unfinished lyric and half-baked melody decided to linger instead of smoothly go by. The soft glow from the monitors painted everything in muted blues and violets, cables snaking across the floor like they belonged there more than people did.

You were stretched out on the couch, one leg hanging off the side, scrolling on your phone without really paying attention to anything. The bass from the speakers pulsed low and steady, looping the same eight bars over and over again. At the desk, Vicky leaned forward, elbows on her knees, fingers pressed against her temples.

“Otra vez” Mauro said, already reaching for the keyboard. The track restarted. A few seconds in, Vicky sat up, grabbed the mic, and tried. She barely got through the first line before she pulled the headphones off with a frustrated sigh. “No. No, that’s-nah.” She waved her hand like she could physically swat the take out of existence.

“Algo no está bien” Mauro leaned back in his chair, rubbing his face. “Pero está bien. El ritmo está ahí.”

„No está bien” she shot back, sharper than she probably meant to. “Suena forzada.” You glanced up from the couch, watching the way her shoulders stayed tense even after she stopped talking. The way her jaw set like she was bracing for something.

“Llevamos horas con esto, Vicky.” Mauro hesitated, then shrugged lightly. „Lo sé.” She exhaled through her nose, pushing her chair back and standing. “Por eso debería ser mejor.” Silence filled the room for a beat, broken only by the loop still quietly playing in the background.

You’d seen her like this before. Not often, but enough to recognize it. It wasn’t just about the song. It was never just about the song. Mauro stood, stretching his arms above his head. “Beuno. Voy a dar por terminado por hoy.” Vicky blinked at him confused and frustrated.

“Que? No, we’re close-” “No lo estamos.” he said, but gently.

“You’re fried. I’m fried. The track’s not going anywhere.” She looked like she wanted to argue with him, but the fight didn’t quite land. Her shoulders dropped a fraction. “Yeah” she muttered after a second. “Yeah, maybe.” He grabbed his bag, slinging it over his shoulder.

“Lo haremos mañana. Oídos frescos.” Vicky nodded, but didn’t say anything else. Mauro glanced at you on the couch, giving you a quick, knowing look. Subtle, but not subtle enough to miss. “Night” he said, heading toward the door. “Night” you echoed with a soft wave.

The door clicked shut behind him. And just like that, the room felt even smaller. The loop kept playing. Vicky stood there for a moment, staring at nothing, then reached over and killed the track. The sudden silence rang louder than the music had. She dragged a hand down her face.

“Fuck.” You set your phone aside, sitting up a little. You watched her pace once, twice, like she didn’t know what to do with the energy stuck under her skin. “Come here” you said, patting the couch beside you.

She gave you a look. “I don’t want to sit.” She said almost like a stubborn child. “Don’t sit. Just come here.” There was a pause. Brief, but noticeable, then she walked over anyway with frown on her face. She stopped in front of you, arms crossed.

“What?” You tilted your head, studying her. “You’re wound up.” “No shit.” She had the audacity to roll her eyes at you. “Like, really wound up.” She did it again, but there was no bite in it. “Okay, therapist.” You smiled faintly.

“C’mere.” You reached for her wrist, tugging gently. She resisted for half a second out of habit more than anything, then let herself be pulled closer. You guided her down so she was sitting sideways on the couch, her back half-turned to you. “Relax your shoulders” you murmured. “They are relaxed.” You raised a brow. “Victoria.” She exhaled, long and slow, and you felt the tension shift under your hands before you even touched her.

“Yeah…okay” she admitted quietly. Your fingers pressed lightly into her shoulders, testing. Tight. Really tight. “Jesus” you muttered. You started working the knots out slowly, deliberate pressure, thumbs pressing into the muscle at the base of her neck. She sucked in a breath. “-Diablo.” “Too much?” “No.” she said quickly, then softer, “no…that’s good.”

You kept going, easing into it, letting your hands move with steady rhythm. Her body resisted at first, still braced, like it didn’t trust the release. “Talk to me.” you said after a minute. “About?”

“What’s actually got you like this.” She was quiet for a second. “No lo sé” she said finally with a small sigh. “Es solo que… todo se siente…raro.” You hummed softly, encouraging her to keep going.

“La pista, mi cabeza, como que-” she made a vague motion with her hand. “I can’t lock in. And when I can’t lock in, it just…pisses me off more.” Your hands slowed slightly, then shifted, thumbs tracing just under her collarbones, easing the tension there.

“You don’t have to force it that much.” you said. “Lo sé” she murmured with a small huff. “Doesn’t make it easier to stop.” You leaned in a little closer. You let your hands drift down her arms, slow, grounding touches, then back up again, tracing familiar paths.

Her breathing had changed a bit deeper now, less sharp. “Better?” you asked quietly. “-yeah.” You paused for a second, then let your fingers lightly graze along the side of her neck. She stilled. Her eyes dropped for a second, lashes casting faint shadows in the low light.

“Stay still,” you murmured. “I am still.” She argues “You were about to move.”

“I wasn’t-” She stopped, then sighed. “Okay, maybe a little.” You let out a quiet laugh. The room felt different now. Same space, same dim lights but softer somehow. Like the edges had blurred.

Your hand moved again, this time tracing down her arm, fingers curling lightly around her wrist. She watched the movement, her breathing steady but shallow. Her shoulders dropped another fraction. You let the silence sit for a moment. Then your fingers found her jaw, turning her face gently toward you. She didn’t resist.

“Hi” you said softly. Her lips twitched. “Hi.” Up close, you could still see the remnants of the stress. The slight crease between her brows, the tightness that hadn’t fully left her eyes. Your thumb brushed that crease away without thinking. “You’re okay.” you murmured. She held your gaze for a second longer than usual. “I know.” But she didn’t sound completely convinced.

You leaned in just a little, not rushing it, giving her time to close the distance if she wanted to. She did. Barely but enough. The kiss was soft at first. Careful. Like testing the water. Then she exhaled into it, and something shifted. Her hand came up, finding your wrist, holding it there against her jaw like she needed the anchor. You deepened the kiss slowly, not pushing, just letting it build naturally. Her shoulders relaxed fully this time. Finally. Your hands slid down her sides, gripping her hips as you tugged her closer, her body shifting to straddle your lap fully now, the heat between her legs pressing against your thigh through her sweatpants. The faint scent of her sweat-mixed with arousal hits you, sharp and heady, making your pulse throb low in your belly.

You break the kiss just enough to murmur against her lips, voice rough with want. “I can feel how tense you still are. Can I eat your pussy until all that stress is gone?” Victoria’s breath catches at how sudden your plea was. Her nails dig into your shoulders as she grinds down once, hard, a soft whine escaping her.

“Fuck, yes. Please. Lo necesito.” You hook your fingers into her waistband, peeling the sweatpants down her thighs along with her boxers, the fabric dragging over her skin. She lifts her hips to help, kicking them off onto the floor next to the snaking cables, her bare pussy glistening in the monitor glow, slick and swollen. You lie back on the couch, the worn leather cool against your back, and guide her up your body.

“Sit on my face, baby. Ride my tongue.” She hesitates only a beat, eyes dark with raw need, then crawls higher, knees sinking into the cushions on either side of your head. Her thighs tremble as she lowers herself, pussy hovering just above your mouth, dripping with anticipation. You grip her ass, firm and full under your palms, the skin hot as you pull her down. Your tongue flattens against her folds, lapping upward in one long, slow stroke, tasting her salty-sweet slickness that coats your lips and chin instantly.

She gasps, hips jerking, the sound wet and desperate as she grinds down, smearing herself over your mouth. “Joder, justo ahí” she pants, hands bracing on the couch arm. You suck her clit between your lips, hard and pulsing, flicking it with the tip of your tongue. The texture of her inner thighs presses against your cheeks, smooth but tense, quivering with every suck and swirl.

Her moans fill the studio, low and throaty, mixing with the slick sounds of your mouth devouring her. You thrust your tongue inside her hole, curling it to stroke her walls, feeling them flutter and clench as she rocks faster, chasing friction. Sweat beads on her skin, dripping onto your forehead, salty when it meets your lips. Your own pussy aches, clit throbbing untouched, clit slick soaking through your clothes, but you focus only on her. The way her eyes roll back and the sound of her moans.

“Don't stop- I'm so close, fuck, tu boca es perfecta” she groans, grinding harder, her juices flooding you, the taste intensifying as her orgasm builds. Before she shatters, you tap her hip as you couldn’t help yourself. “Turn. I need your tongue in me too.” She spins without hesitation, ass now toward your face as she yanks your pants and underwear down your legs, the cool air hitting your soaked pussy like a shock.

Her breath fans hot over your clit first, then her mouth descends, tongue plunging into your folds while you dive back into hers. Bodies aligned on the couch, her pussy grinding on your face, yours under her relentless mouth. Wet slurps and moans vibrating through both of you. She sucks your clit like it's her lifeline, fingers spreading your lips wide, the stretch burning sweet while you fuck her hole with your tongue.

The leather creaks under your writhing, her sweat-slick back arching above you, your noses buried in each other's heat, scents mingling thickly. Tension uncoils from her in violent waves. Her pussy clamps your tongue as she comes first, a gush of slick flooding your mouth, her thighs crushing your head while she screams into your soaked pussy. The vibration shatters you too, orgasm crashing hard, hips bucking up into her face, walls pulsing around nothing as she laps every drop, fingers thrusting shallowly inside you.

You both ride it out, slowing gradually, breaths ragged in the sudden quiet. When you pulled back, it wasn’t far. She stayed close turning around and lying on top of you, forehead touching yours.

“Will this be the last time?” you asked, your tone dripping with sarcasm. It was a question you asked every time, knowing damn well what the answer would be. Miko had a way of making promises she never intended to keep, and yet here you were, part of her revolving door.

She didn’t respond, instead lighting a blunt with an air of indifference, the flicker illuminating her features momentarily. She took a long drag, exhaling slowly as she sat on the edge of the bed, her body language closed off.

“Qué? Don’t feel like talking?” you shot back, propping yourself up on one elbow, irritation bubbling beneath your skin.

“I don’t feel like talking to you,” she replied flatly, her eyes avoiding yours.

“So saying dirty things in my ear isn’t talking? Fucking me isn’t talking?” you challenged, feeling the familiar mix of anger and frustration rise within you.

Miko remained silent, her gaze fixed somewhere beyond the walls of the room.

“Right,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Famous Young Miko gets what she wants and walks away without a second thought.”

“If you’re so hurt about it, why do you keep accepting it?” Miko finally replied, her voice sharp, the edge of annoyance creeping in.

You turned your head to glare at her, frustration boiling over. “I could say the same about you,” you shot back, your tone defensive.

“I’m not hurt,” she insisted, though the slight quiver in her voice suggested otherwise.

“Yeah, right. You come running to me every time you’re upset, just to fuck your feelings away.” Your words cut through the tension, puncturing the bubble of denial she’d built around herself.

Miko flicked the ash from her blunt against the wall, the sharp sound echoing in the silence as she stood up to wash her face in the bathroom.

“The least you could do is show some respect,” you called after her, your voice laced with resentment.

“I do respect you,” she mumbled, her voice muffled by the sound of running water.

You rolled your eyes, turning away from her. “Respect? This isn’t respect. This is a transaction.”

After a few moments, Miko emerged from the bathroom, her hair damp and falling into her eyes. She slipped under the covers next to you, instinctively seeking warmth.

“It’s always the same, Vicky,” you said, your voice low and tinged with disappointment, frustration bubbling up alongside the familiar ache.

“I know…” she mumbled, sounding almost defeated, her voice barely above a whisper as she curled up behind you.