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Their bedroom is dim and quiet except for the rustle of sheets and the wet, open sound of lips against skin. Cait lies beneath her, soft and warm, her breath catching each time Vi’s mouth finds a new place to linger. Vi presses her weight down, drawing them closer, their thighs tangled, and their hands restless and greedy.
Cait’s good eye is half-lidded, dark with want, her fingers curling into the muscles of Vi’s back like a plea as Vi trails reverent kisses down her throat, teasing at the spots she knows will make Cait shiver most.
She catalogues every reaction; the way Cait’s lips part on a stuttered breath, the flick of her tongue wetting them, the rise and fall of her chest, now flushed a soft, pretty pink.
Vi lets herself drown in the taste and feel of her.
The air thickens, heady with heat; the faint floral scent of Cait’s perfume mixes with sweat and skin, melding into something urgent and intimate, fierce and unspoken, and Vi fully intends to unravel every inch of.
Her hands wander with intent, lingering where she knows Cait aches, and teasing where she knows Cait will shudder. Vi lets her fingers trail along Cait’s ribs, sweep up her rippling stomach, and trace over her delicate collarbones.
Vi has spent hours learning every rhythm Cait’s body plays—the way it breathes, pauses, pleads without words. And gods, Vi aches for those sounds—light, breathy sighs, sharp little gasps, the broken moans that sound like her name without forming it.
They’re all hers . Hers alone, and Vi yearns for nothing more than to bottle them. To live drunk on them forever; on Cait.
It’s a wild thought, but it settles deep in her chest—fierce, protective, possessive, and so damn head over heels in love, it makes her dizzy.
But what sets Vi truly ablaze is when Cait breaks even louder. When she trembles, her whole body arching like it’s coming undone. Vi craves that more than anything she’s ever desired before. For the moments when Cait forgets how to be composed. When she’s not the Pitlover sheriff, not the Kiramman heir, nor a sharpshooter with one deadly eye.
She’s just Cait; wrecked and radiant.
With that hunger burning bright, Vi trails lower, slow and deliberate, until her hand cups the familiar curve of Cait’s chest. Her palm slides upward—broad, sure—and her thumb grazes a dark, stiff nipple—
—Cait gasps, sharp and sudden, the sound catching before it spills into a moan that echoes against the walls. Her hips jerk, and her hand flies to Vi’s hair, fingers clenching tight.
There it is.
Vi grins, triumphant, and leans in again, her kisses turning insistent, her teeth grazing just enough to make Cait squirm. Her tongue flicks out—wet, slow, worshipful—as it circles the taut peak. Not greedy. Not rushed. Focused. Like every inch of Cait’s sweet skin deserves the world.
She lets her lips close around the hardened nub, sucking with soft, deliberate pressure until Cait shudders beneath her. The slick heat of Vi’s mouth against cool air drawing a further tremor from deep inside Cait’s very core.
‘Vi—’ Cait gasps, hips twitching, voice ragged, helpless.
The sound slams into Vi like wildfire. She groans, low and rough, muffled by Cait’s skin, then pulls back with a wet pop, her hand rising to tease the tender nipple between her thumb and finger.
When she looks up, Cait’s face is flushed, her lips are parted, her eye is glassy and half-lidded, and her throat is bare—tantalisingly arched—as her chest rises in quick, broken waves. Sweat slicks the soft skin of her breasts—nipples hard and aching beneath Vi’s hands—and her fingers are tangled in Vi’s hair like she’s holding on for dear life.
Vi smiles, slow and hungry. ‘You like that, Cupcake?’ she murmurs, voice thick and low.
Cait doesn’t answer with words. Just moans—deep and raw—and arches harder into Vi’s touch, her hips grinding upward, her chest pressing closer.
The friction, the sound…. all of it drags Vi deeper under.
‘Fuck,’ she breathes, laughing softly, voice wrecked with want. ‘I could do this all night.’
And stars, she means it. She wants to worship Cait until her legs tremble. Until her mind melts. Until all that’s left is skin, breath, and the feel of her body shattering in Vi’s hands.
Vi shifts, moving to the other breast, tongue drawing hot circles around Cait’s left nipple. Her lips flick and tease, teeth grazing just enough to make Cait gasp. Her hand kneads the right—never still, never easing—fingertips brushing across every hypersensitive patch of skin, coaxing, driving Cait wild.
Vi watches her face, expression shifting, euphoric and undone. Every gasp, every sigh, every moan is music; melodic, captivating, addictive, and Vi drinks it all in like a woman parched.
‘You’re usually so prim and proper. Always fighting to remain in control,’ she murmurs against Cait’s skin. ‘But when you let me hear you… fuck, it drives me crazy.’
Her tongue lavishes Cait’s nipple again, punctuating her words, and another moan—louder now, unguarded—slips out from Cait’s lips before she can catch it.
Vi smiles, not smug, but tender. Like the sound is something sacred. Like Cait’s entrusted her with a secret, and Vi’s starving to hear it again.
She knows Cait’s nipples are sensitive. Knows exactly how they unravel her. The way pleasure gathers there; concentrated, explosive, waiting to ignite.
Vi’s known it since their very first time together back in that dingy cell. Had etched it into her mind, the way Cait had gasped, arched, and moaned sharply whenever Vi had touched her there. It drove her wild then. It still does now—the power of it. The way she can turn Cait’s breathy restraint into something untamed and raw with just her tongue, her hands, her voice.
But more than that… it’s the surrender. Cait giving herself over fully. Letting Vi see her like this—bare, wrecked, free. That’s what really burns. That’s what makes Vi feel like she’s flying and falling all at once.
‘Mmm, you feel so good, Vi,’ Cait whimpers, hips jolting.
Vi hums in response, the vibration rippling through Cait’s skin, drawing another soft gasp.
Cait’s head falls back, eyes fluttering shut as Vi switches sides again, sucking and teasing, one hand still working, slow and sure. She takes her time. Every lick, and every flick of her tongue is deliberate; devastating in its precision.
Vi can feel the heat building between Cait’s thighs, feel the slickness as Cait grinds up against her stomach in search of more. But Vi holds her back, keeps her there, perching on the precipice, trembling with want.
She kisses her way up, tasting sweat and soft skin. Cait is breathless now, chest heaving, and her good eye blinks slowly open, full of awe and need.
Vi presses their foreheads together. ‘You have no idea what you do to me, baby.’
Her hand glides back down Cait’s side, fingers splayed to catch every tremble, every twitch beneath soft skin. She cups the curve of Cait’s hip, then trails her palm along her waist, savouring each slow brush of contact.
Cait looks almost ethereal in the low light. Her hair is a wild mess, stuck to her cheek, fanned across the pillow. Her lips are bruised, kiss-swollen and enchanting. And her good eye is undeniably hazy with desire as she watches Vi like she’s the only thing in her orbit.
It makes Vi’s heart stutter and her body burn. She can’t get enough. The feel, the taste, the way Cait responds… it’s an addiction she never wants to shake. All she wants is more.
‘Don’t stop,’ Cait whispers, voice barely there, fingers tangling tighter in Vi’s hair, pulling her ever closer. It’s permission—no, pleading—and Vi would never dream of denying her.
She obeys at once.
Her mouth returns to the curve of Cait’s throat, kissing down over her collarbone, across the swell of her chest. She revels in knowing Cait’s body—how it moves, how it breathes, where Cait likes it slow and where she craves it rough. Where she stiffens with anticipation just before she gasps, arches, and pleads for more.
The thought alone sends a rush through Vi, molten and electric. She trails lower, her tongue following sweat-slick skin, rewarded with a broken moan that curls through Cait’s throat like smoke. Vi grins against her ribs, feeling the flutter and tightening of muscles beneath her lips.
She pauses—just for a breath—to admire the constellation of moles scattered across Cait’s chest and stomach. Little stars she knows by heart. Vi’s fingers move first, tracing the familiar map. She knows exactly how Cait will react when she worships them one by one. Knows her breath will catch, her hips will buck, and her spine will arch.
Veneration blossoms in Vi’s chest. These constellations, this skin, this woman; Janna, she knows she could close her eyes and still find her way home.
Cait tugs impatiently at her hair, drawing Vi back from thought. She shifts, dragging her knuckles slowly down Cait’s belly, reverent, savouring the way soft gasps ripple through her.
Every sound feels like a gift Vi’s never asked for but keeps receiving—keeps being blessed with—again and again.
When Cait’s thigh slides up along Vi’s hip, the friction blooms hot and desperate between them. Vi exhales, breath hitching, adjusting just enough to stay pressed close, to feel every quiver building in the woman beneath her.
Cait’s hands roam now without aim. Her fingertips skating over Vi’s ribs and waist like she’s searching for something to hold on to. It’s a relinquishing that slices through Vi’s chest like light cutting through stained glass.
Because fuck, she loves this. Not just the sweat or the taste of Cait on her tongue, but the discovery. How every time feels new. How Cait keeps offering up more of herself—layer by layer—every soft gasp and pleading moan an utter revelation.
Vi kisses a blazing path back up, unable to resist, drinking in each shiver, each ragged breath. Cait’s fingers dig into her back now, clutching her there like she’s afraid she might drift away if Vi doesn’t anchor her.
‘How are you real?’ she whispers against her lips, voice rough with reverence. ‘You’re so beautiful. So sexy.’
Cait’s breath hitches and her hand rises, cupping Vi’s cheek, fingertips trembling as they brush lovingly across her jaw.
‘Only because you look at me like that,’ she breathes. ‘Like I’m the only thing you see.’
Vi catches her hand, kisses her palm. ‘You are.’
Her mouth finds Cait’s again, hungrier now. Their skin sticks where they touch, slick and flushed, no space left between thought and need. They’re bare in every sense—tangled in the sheets, wrapped around each other like gravity, like prayer; floating in a moment they wish to cling to forever.
Cait bows—restless and aching—into every touch, gasping now instead of sighing, her voice catching on each breath. Her hands skate over Vi’s back, clutching, seeking, holding. No longer restrained. No longer careful each time Vi touches something new, or something familiar, in just the right way.
Vi’s focus sharpens, drawn again to Cait’s chest. The way it rises and falls in tight, juddery waves. The way her nipples peak, flushed and begging under her touch. Her mouth finds its place again like it belongs there, and Cait gasps the moment Vi’s lips close around her nipple, raw and helpless, her back snapping off the mattress. Vi brings her hand up, thumb circling the other bud, and Cait lets out a sharper sound—not polished, not restrained; a real cry.
Vi smiles against her skin, loving the way Cait comes unfettered. How she falls apart with just the right pressure, the right rhythm. How her body knows Vi. Anticipates her. How it turns wanting and ruined beneath her touch.
She teases slow patterns with her tongue, never lingering long enough to satisfy, and Cait’s grip in her hair pinches, nails digging in as her hips lift, body begging for more.
‘Vi…’ she whimpers, trembling, helpless with desire. Vi hums, eyes dark with affection, and something deeper, as Cait’s slick heat paints against her abs.
‘You’re so perfect, Cait,’ she breathes, gaze raking down her body, admiring every delectable line and curve.
She leans in again, mouth closing softly over Cait’s nipple once more, tongue swirling, teeth grazing just enough to make her cry out.
Cait’s body jolts. Her fingers clench. And her moans spiral into something fractured, desperate.
‘Vi… I need you,’ she gasps, voice trembling, the edges fraying with urgency.
Vi pulls back slightly, lips brushing the swollen peak, eyes burning with promise.
‘I want to make you come just from this,’ she husks. ‘No fingers. No mouth. Just this.'
Cait’s eye widens, chest heaving, her breath coming fast as she stares up at Vi, heart pounding with nervous thrill.
‘I don’t know,’ she says softly, voice uncertain. ‘I’ve never… I don’t think I can…’
Vi smiles deeper, fingers pinching gently, eliciting a sweet, startled gasp.
‘Let’s find out,’ she murmurs, voice steady, reverent, sure.
Her mouth returns to Cait’s breasts, tongue circling slowly, deliberately—teasingly—before her teeth graze just enough to draw a broken whine. Her free hand rises to cradle the other, thumb sweeping over the nipple with practised care. Cait’s hips rocket hard in response, coating Vi’s skin with more of her wetness.
‘Gods, you’re so—-’ Vi tries, but words fail her. Her voice breaks on the weight of it; the love, the lust, the adoration, and Cait writhes beneath her again, glowing and gutted.
‘You’re driving me insane,’ Cait breathes, half-laughing through the ache. Her hands cup Vi’s face, pulling her up into a kiss, deep and messy, their teeth catching lips slightly in their haste.
‘That’s the plan,’ Vi murmurs, grinning against her mouth. She breaks away again, trailing heat down Cait’s chest, anchoring herself with kisses and praise.
Her mouth finds a swollen nipple again, fingers teasing the other with perfect rhythm—pinching, rolling, flicking, coaxing. Cait’s hips twitch. Her moans grow sharper. She’s shaking now, chasing every lavish of Vi’s tongue like it’s the only thing tethering her to earth.
Vi can feel her starting to break apart, the last threads of her restraint crumbling. The polished calm Cait wears like armour, melting under Vi’s touch, replaced by something wild, raw, and honest.
Her moans have grown increasingly desperate, and her hips move of their own accord, chasing sensation, chasing Vi.
Vi remains relentless, tender. She drinks in every breath, every helpless roll of Cait’s hips, every stammered gasp like she’s taking gospel.
The rhythm builds. Cait’s hips roll instinctively, hungry circles against Vi’s stomach, her voice catching on every breath, every flick of tongue, every twist of fingers. She’s gone; completely. Vi feels it in the way her head tips back, body tightening under her touch, trembling on the edge, eyes fluttering shut, lost in the soaring wave.
Cait’s moans keep building, her body tightening, and Vi’s hand steadies her hips, grounding her, guiding her. Her mouth alternates between slow sucks and teasing flicks, pulling her higher, refusing to let her fall.
‘Oh fuck, Vi… I can’t… It’s too much,’ Cait pants, clutching at Vi’s shoulders, blunt nails leaving searing scratch marks in their wake.
But Vi doesn’t stop.
She switches sides, teeth grazing lightly, drawing another helpless cry.
Her lips wrap around Cait’s nipple, tongue swirling, sucking hard enough to leave heat rushing deep under her skin. Her fingers work the other peak, nails just grazing as she rolls and flicks, ceaselessly.
‘That’s it,’ she encourages against Cait’s chest. ‘Just like that. Let go, baby. Come for me.’
Cait’s breaths come faster—shallow, frantic—her voice splintering from between parted lips as her hips buck with wild abandon, desperate for more, for the end and the fall.
Vi spreads her fingers wide, pressing into the softness of Cait’s breasts, anchoring her as her tongue teases those hardened peaks—flicking, biting, driving her wild.
And then—
With a guttural, shattering cry, Cait breaks.
Her body seizes, hips jerking, muscles locking as her orgasm crashes through her; hot, wild, and all-consuming. Vi holds her there, mouth and hands still working, dragging every last wave from her quaking form.
Only when Cait collapses—limp, gasping, eyes fluttering closed—does Vi finally ease her touch.
She kisses her way up slowly, gently, ardently.
‘You’re mine,’ she whispers against Cait’s lips. ‘Always.’
Vi lingers there, lips ghosting against Cait’s, letting her feel the connection, the safety braided into every lazy kiss. Their tongues curl hotly together, lips brushing, teeth grazing pillowy flesh and drawing sharp, breathy gasps.
She doesn’t even notice when her fingers start moving again—rolling and teasing Cait’s still sensitive peaks—until Cait’s hand slides back into her hair, tugging her close. Not desperate, but needing; grounded in love.
Cait’s eye flutters open, heavy-lidded and dazed, meeting Vi’s with naked vulnerability.
‘You make me feel… everything,’ she breathes, voice cracked and wavering.
Vi smiles, soft and sinful all at once. ‘Good,’ she whispers. ‘That’s exactly what I want.’
She dips her head and kisses the elegant slope of Cait’s neck, tongue flicking out to trace a hot, gliding stroke along her collarbone. When Cait sighs her name wantonly in response, Vi sucks a mark just over her racing pulse, and feels intoxicated all over again.
Her hands don’t stop. They can’t. Her worship continues in the glowing aftermath—fingers trailing down Cait’s sides, dipping beneath the curve of her hips, teasing along her thighs, while her mouth returns to those exquisite nipples. Licking. Sucking. Biting just enough to send sparks of renewed desire racing up Cait’s spine.
Slowly, deliberately, Vi guides her back toward that edge. Her voice is low, reverent, praise dripping between kisses.
‘You’re so beautiful like this. So open. So mine.’
Cait shudders, breath hitching, fingers tightening in Vi’s hair.
Vi’s tongue moves with fierce devotion, her fingers working in flawless rhythm—pinching, rolling—drawing the heat tighter, higher, until it swells in Cait like a rising storm.
And then, with a ragged, desperate cry, Cait folds into her.
She breaks harder this time—hips bucking instinctively into Vi’s mouth and hands, her whole body pulsing as her climax crashes through her. Her breath catches in her throat, her spine arches, and she surrenders utterly.
Vi holds her close, drinking in every sound, every moan, every gasp, as if they’re sacred. The taste, the rhythm of Cait shattering apart, anchors her in awe.
When the storm fades, they don’t move. They remain tangled, breathless, sated, lost in the hush that follows something holy.
Cait arches once more—taut, trembling—before collapsing fully into the pillows. Boneless. Vision blurred. Her chest rising in shallow, stuttering breaths.
Vi stays where she is, one hand smoothing damp hair from Cait’s forehead, the other resting lightly over her heart, feeling it thunder beneath her palm.
‘Vi…’ Cait breathes, voice raw and earnest.
Vi lifts her head, smiling down with quiet pride. ‘Told you,’ she murmurs affectionately, fingers drawing slow circles over Cait’s still-sensitive skin.
Cait shivers beneath the touch, pleasure still humming faintly through her.
‘Oh, Violet…’ she whispers, soft and trembling. Her eyes flutter closed for a moment, then open again, half-lidded and glazed with wonder.
Vi leans down, lips pressing slow and deep, swallowing every breath between them; an echo of every secret, every spark they’ve just shared.
‘You always do that,’ Cait murmurs against her lips, a soft smile tugging at the corners. Her breath catches, light and uneven. 'Completely ruin me.’
Vi nuzzles Cait’s cheek, a slow grin spreading across warm skin. ‘Yeah?’ she breathes. ‘Good.’ Her eyes gleam with unbidden love. ‘Because you ruin me right back.’ She leans closer, voice dropping low and mischievous. ‘And the best part? It’s only the beginning. We’ve still got all night, baby.’
——————
Cait’s smile curves—slow and wicked—in the hazy afterglow, and her fingers trail deliberately down Vi’s side, leaving a line of heat in their wake.
‘My turn?’ she murmurs, eyes heavy with promise and fire.
But before her hand can wander further, Vi catches her wrist, pinning it gently to the bed. Her grin deepens as she leans in, lips brushing the shell of Cait’s ear.
‘Later,’ she whispers, husky and urgent. ‘Right now… I want to taste you, lose myself inside you.’
Cait’s soft moan melts into their kiss—breaths mingling, lips parting, hunger reigniting in the space between. But this time, Cait’s fingers wrap around Vi’s wrist with quiet command. Slowly, deliberately, she draws Vi’s hand to her mouth, and Vi feels her heart skip a beat.
Heat flares under her skin as Cait parts her lips and draws Vi’s fingers between them; wet and warm, her tongue tracing slow, teasing circles. She sucks with gentle pressure, drawing each finger deeper, one at a time, her electric blue eye never leaving Vi’s.
And Vi melts, her breath hitches, her pulse races thunderously, and her body shudders with arousal at the subtle scrape of Cait’s teeth along her fingertips, the anticipation of it sending a jolt down her spine.
Then Cait releases her fingers with a soft, wet pop, lips slick and parted. She curls her hand tighter around Vi’s wrist and slowly, sensually, guides their hands downwards between their bodies, sliding those same spit-slick fingers between her thighs before slipping them inside herself with quiet, deliberate ease.
Her gaze doesn’t waver, dark, smouldering, locked on Vi like a challenge and a promise all in one. And Vi feels it. Heat and slick and the slow clench of Cait’s muscles around her fingers that leave her utterly breathless, and entirely unravelled.
The fire between them flares wild and instant. Skin sticky with sweat. Breaths ragged. Their bodies beginning to move together, finding that rhythm again, raw and instinctual, the kind that lives in the marrow of their bones. Every thrust is deep, sure, hot. And Vi’s mind narrows, every thought melting away until there’s only Cait. Cait grinding into her hand. Cait’s slick heat pulsing with need, Cait’s lips brushing against her jaw, Cait’s breath mingling with her own to taste like sex and stars and surrender.
Cait… and a burning closeness that feels like coming home.
Their mouths collide in ragged, panting kisses, tongues tasting, lips biting softly between moans. Both of them lost in a dizzying haze of overwhelming sensation. Vi can’t tell where she ends and Cait begins, only that she never wants this to stop, and as their bodies writhe and twist, perfectly tangled, perfectly one for a moment, nothing else matters.
Every grind, every thrust, sends another wave crashing through her chest; electric, consuming. Cait trembles and her nails dig into Vi’s skin, pleasure rippling through her in tense, twitching bursts. And when she finally comes again—head thrown back, mouth parted, a sound like Vi’s name caught halfway to prayer—Vi feels the heat rush through her like a fever. She rides the wave with her, bodies tangled, soaked in sweat and want, their hearts thudding in sync.
As they finally collapse together, breathless, thighs shaking, hands tangled in each other’s hair, lips brushing without aim, Vi knows, undoubtedly, that this is what love feels like; raw, messy, beautiful. That this, right here with Cait, is the safety she never dared hope for back in Stillwater.
Cait exhales a soft, desperate laugh, tethering her. ‘You’re insatiable.’
Vi’s chest rises and falls in uneven gasps, a languid grin spreading across her flushed face. ‘Only for you,’ she pants. ‘You’re addictive, Cupcake.’
The name lands soft and fond, less of a tease now, more like a vow wrapped in laughter.
Cait leans in after a moment, lips hot against hers, fingertips skimming over Vi’s rock-hard abs. ‘I want you,’ she murmurs, peppering kisses and gentle nips along Vi’s jaw and down her neck.
Vi moans, the sound soft and wrecked as a satisfied grin tugs at her lips. Her body’s still buzzing, still burning. The need hasn’t faded, it’s only grown sharper, deeper.
‘Then have me, Sheriff,’ she says, voice fond and teasing. Her fingers thread through Cait’s hair, guiding her downwards with cheeky insistence. I’m yours, she thinks, fierce and unshaken. Always.
Cait grins against her skin. ‘So demanding,’ she murmurs.
Her lips close around Vi’s nipple, tongue swirling, teeth grazing, then she pulls away to blow a soft stream of warm breath that makes Vi shiver and arch.
‘If you’re still talking this much, I clearly didn’t fuck you properly,’ Vi laughs, breathless, and Cait nips playfully at her skin. ‘Fuck, Cait; be a good girl and put your pretty little mouth on me already.’
Cait bites her nipple in response, making Vi gasp, then dutifully obeys, her mouth lowering eagerly.
Vi gasps as Cait’s tongue parts her folds—slow, deliberate, hungry. She licks like she means to memorise her; long, savouring strokes that curl Vi’s toes and make her whine. Her low moans vibrate through Vi’s pussy, and Vi can’t help but buck up, chasing every flick of Cait’s tongue against her clit like it’s the only thing that matters.
‘Fuck,’ Vi groans, head tipping back, fingers tangling tight in Cait’s hair.
Cait eats her out like she’s starving, tongue moving with devotion, her mouth relentless and soft all at once. Every sigh, every moan Vi spills only driving her on further.
Vi arches, trembling. Her thighs shake as her orgasm builds swiftly and her voice turns messy; sharp and broken and breathless. Cait doesn’t stop. Doesn’t waver. She devours her like prayer and pleasure, like the answer to every ache.
And when she finally comes it’s with a ragged breath and a cry ripped from her chest—loud, broken, her fingers knotted tight in Cait’s hair—her body straining, shaking, wrecked with it, until all that’s left is the sound of her surrender and the brutal, breathless truth that she is ruined and home all at once.
——————
‘Have I mentioned that I love it when you’re loud for me too,’ Cait murmurs, voice smug as sin as she crawls back up Vi’s body, lips leaving a trail of heated kisses along the way. ‘Although I imagine the staff will be terribly scandalised in the morning when we go down for breakfast.’
Vi lets out a broken huff, breath catching, voice frayed at the edges. Yeah, she’d been loud. She always was when it was good. But with Cait? It wasn’t just good. It was blinding. Everything felt sharper. Deeper. Like her whole body was tuned to the frequency of Cait’s touch.
‘Give me a minute here, Cupcake,’ she pants, grinning through the ache. ‘Then we’ll go again. Settle who’s actually the loudest.’
‘Or,’ Cait purrs, her voice dropping like velvet over steel, ‘you could just lie back and let me have you again. I’ve already made you scream the house down. Maybe next time I can get you to sing to the heavens above.’
‘Oh, is that so?’ Vi lets out a low, wrecked laugh, drunk on heat and Cait and everything in between. Her thighs twitch, still trembling from her last orgasm, and yet need coils again, quick and hot. She meets Cait’s gaze, eyes glassy with want. ‘Go on then, do your worst, baby. I’m all yours.’
Cait kisses her then—hot and dirty and deep—before pulling back with a sharp nip to her lip that makes Vi shiver to the bone. Then Cait slides down her body, mouth trailing fire along Vi’s collarbone, over the swell of her breast, nails dragging down her stomach in lazy, deliberate scratches that make Vi twitch and groan.
Vi’s breath hitches. Her skin buzzes. Her lungs still ache from the last high, but her body’s already reigniting, heat pooling low.
And then Cait glances heatedly towards the drawer, and Vi’s heart immediately stutters, ablaze and scorching with overwhelming lust.
Cait reaches for it without a word—slow, precise—fingers curling around the harness. Vi swears her breath leaves her body in a rush. But Cait doesn’t rush. She shows her; every motion is deliberate and seductive. Her posture is loose. Her lips parted. Her eyes are heavy with control. She threads the straps through her fingers and rolls her hips as she adjusts, letting the sleek shaft catch the low light.
Vi lets out a low whistle, licking her lips. ‘You look like a fucking goddess.’
Cait smirks, one brow arched. ‘Oh, you like that, huh?’ She strokes her hand slowly up and down the shaft, gaze locked on Vi. ‘Me, powerful. Up high. And you, my trembling little mortal… waiting to be worshipped. Or ruined.’
‘Fuck yes,’ Vi groans, dragging a hand down her flushed face. ‘You’re killing me here, Cait.’
Inside, she’s burning. This Cait—tender and commanding—is everything.
Every look, every touch, every quiet act of reverent control pulls Vi deeper into a hunger that has nothing to do with just the body. This Cait bends her will, but also holds her heart like a fragile treasure. It's everything she’s ever craved and never knew she needed.
No armour. No games.
Just need.
Trust.
Love; raw, real, and endlessly hers.
Cait crawls up the bed with predator grace, planting a kiss on Vi’s stomach, then another below her navel that makes Vi shiver with desire.
‘Thought you said I could do my worst.’
Vi huffs a breathless laugh, folding her arms behind her head, muscles tensing in anticipation. ‘I did, just… didn’t think you’d take it as a challenge.’
Cait chuckles low in her throat, then leans in, kissing along Vi’s ribs, then up her sternum—slow, unhurried—until her lips find Vi’s throat, warm breath fanning against her skin.
‘Oh, Violet,’ she murmurs, voice dipped in fire. ‘I always take you as a challenge.’ She bites gently at her pulse point. ‘And I always play to win.’
——————
Vi shudders, her breath catching sharply.
She wants her.
Wants Cait so bad it hurts—wants the stretch, the weight, the worship. Wants Cait inside her, not just because she needs the friction, but because it means something. Every thrust. Every look. Every word.
Cait shifts her weight, the strap pressing so Vi feels it—hard and slick against her thigh—and her whole body tenses in anticipation, muscles clenching, heart thudding low and hard in her chest.
Cait pulls back just enough to look at her, lone blue eye burning, but calm. Steady. Devastating.
‘Open your legs for me, darling.’
The words hit harder than they should. Not barked. Not demanded. Just… spoken.
Confident. Unshakable.
Like Cait knows Vi will obey.
And Vi does. Instantly.
She spreads for her—slow, trembling, aching already—and Cait slides into the space between her thighs like she was always meant to be there.
Vi lets out a broken noise the second the head of the strap kisses her clit. Just a tease. Just a grind. And it makes her whole body twitch. Cait smiles as if she can feel that tremor, and then leans in, dragging the toy up through Vi’s slick folds again, letting it catch where she’s most sensitive. Again. And again. Just barely pressing in.
Teasing. Marking. Owning.
Cait’s mouth brushes against Vi’s ear, voice silk-wrapped sin as she husks, ‘Ready for me, my love?’
Vi’s laugh cracks on a moan. Her body is a livewire, every nerve keyed up, pulsing with want. ‘Baby,’ she breathes, trying to maintain a semblance of her bravado, ‘I was born ready.’
Her thighs are shaking by the time Cait finally lines herself up, and when she finally starts to push in, slow and deep, Vi’s head falls back against the pillow with a curse.
‘Fuck—’ Vi gasps, sharp and, broken, her fingers clawing at Cait’s arms, holding on like she’s falling as the stretch steals the air from her lungs.
Cait moves like she has all the time in the world, like she’s savouring this—savouring her—and Vi feels everything. The fullness. The press. The sacred weight of being filled so fully.
Something blooms beneath the pleasure. Something molten and wild and real. Confirmation that this is exactly where she belongs. Right here, with Cait. Just like this. Forever.
Vi sucks in a breath and lets her legs fall wider, and her back arches as Cait pushes deeper, deeper, grounding her to the bed, to this moment, to her. Vi’s body clamps down instinctively, hips rising to meet each slow advance. It’s too much and not enough all at once.
It’s a slow grind at first. A claiming. Every inch of Cait’s body against hers, skin to skin, the weight of her, the heat. Vi wraps her arms around her shoulders and holds on like she’s being remade.
Cait starts to move—slow, deliberate thrusts that hit deep and drag out, sending lightning through Vi’s spine—and Vi can’t even pretend to hold back the sounds.
Moans. Gasps. Whimpers torn straight from her chest.
She doesn’t care.
Not here.
Not with Cait.
Because with Cait, it’s not just sex.
It’s a prayer she never thought she’d learn how to say.
And Cait answers it with every perfect thrust.
——————
Once she’s certain Vi can take her, Cait finds her rhythm quickly, and it’s ruthless in its precision. Every thrust punches into Vi just right. Slow at first, deep, dragging. Then faster. Harder. Just enough. Never too much. Always perfectly calculated to wreck her. Like Cait knows exactly how Vi’s body works. Knows how to take her apart and keep her just shy of release.
The room fills with the sound of them; wet, slapping skin and breathless, desperate moans tangled in Vi’s mouth. The air is thick with sweat, with sex, with the sharp scent of arousal and heat. It clings to her, heavy and holy.
Vi clutches Cait’s shoulders like a lifeline, nails digging into muscle, trying to anchor herself to something solid as her body spirals.
But Cait is everywhere—hands gripping her hips, mouth hot at her neck, voice murmuring filth and devotion in the same breath. Her body driving forward with unrelenting finesse, like she knows Vi’s every breaking point by heart.
Vi’s cries rise, raw and unguarded. She’s helpless. Consumed. Her whole body trembling, nerves lit like live wires.
Each thrust sets her aflame.
Each kiss Cait lays on her neck feels like worship.
And it’s so much—so fierce, so blindingly beautiful—that Vi could sob from the ache of it. Could drown in it and never ask to be saved.
Vi’s never been quiet in bed. It never occurred to her to be. She’s loud when it’s good, loud when it aches, loud when she feels—but this?
This is something else entirely.
She can’t stop the sounds pouring out of her.
Each time Cait slams into her, Vi moans—guttural, wrecked—punched from the centre of her. When Cait pulls back and grinds, slow and cruel, the sound twists into a desperate whimper.
‘Fuck, Cait—fuck—’
Her voice keeps rising, raw and ragged, until she’s panting through curses, gasping broken vowels into Cait’s mouth like she’s begging for oxygen.
Cait doesn’t let up. Doesn’t falter. Just watches her, calm and composed, like she’s meant to see Vi like this; wild and needy, her body trembling, her voice betraying her every second.
‘You always talk so big,’ Cait murmurs against her throat, her voice steady even as she slams back in, hard enough to make Vi jolt. ‘But you’re so fucking loud for me, Violet.’
Vi can’t answer. She’s too busy moaning. Shouting.
It’s not even words anymore… just the sound of her unravelling, too full, too hot, too close. Her hands scrabble for purchase. Her thighs shake. Her head rolls back, mouth falling open on another wrecked cry.
Cait leans in close, lips grazing her ear. ‘I haven’t even let you come yet, and you’re such a mess for me,’ she whispers hotly.
Vi lets out a desperate sob.
She doesn’t know how Cait’s holding her on this edge—this bright, unbearable brink—but she is. Every thrust pushes her higher. Every withdrawal leaves her aching. Cait drives into her with calculated cruelty, forcing her to ride the knife’s edge over and over.
‘You’re going to scream for me,’ Cait says, low and calm and full of knowing. ‘Not just moan. Not just beg. I want to hear it, Violet. Let me hear you.’
Vi’s teeth sink into her lip hard, but it’s no use. Cait fucks her, angled deep, slow grind at the end of every thrust, just enough pressure on her clit to make her see stars—and it breaks her.
Her hands fist the sheets. Her legs lock around Cait’s waist. Her breath punches out in sharp, helpless gasps.
And when Cait finally gives her permission, when she drives in and stays, grinding deep with a brutal roll of her hips—
Vi fundamentally shatters.
‘Caitlyn!’
Her voice is hoarse, broken wide open, cracking as her orgasm hits like a detonation.
Her whole body seizes. Her back arches off the bed. Her mouth stays open on a sound that’s almost too loud, too raw, too real to be called pleasure alone.
And Cait holds her through it, one hand at her hip, the other pressing over her chest, over her hammering heart, grounding her while she breaks.
When Vi screams it’s just for her; Cait’s name falling repeatedly from her lips like a benediction.
Loud enough to shake the walls.
Loud enough to shake the heavens.
And still, Cait holds her.
Steady. Certain.
Like she knew all along that Vi would fall and always intended to catch her.
——————
The sound of her scream still rings in her ears, half-swallowed by Cait’s mouth, half-lost to the ceiling.
Then—
quiet.
…stillness.
Vi collapses back against the sheets, boneless and burning, her chest heaving like she’s just run for her life. Her legs fall open, useless. Her skin is damp with sweat, and she’s unbearably slick between her thighs. Every inch of her aches, her muscles trembling in slow, delayed waves, like the echoes of an earthquake still rolling through her.
Cait doesn’t move for a long moment.
She just holds her; buried deep, lips pressed to Vi’s temple, their bodies still joined like an unspoken vow.
Vi can’t speak.
She doesn’t want to.
All she can do is feel; Cait’s weight draped over her, warm and steady, and the slow thump of her heart against Vi’s ribs. Her breath, quiet and even, ghosts along Vi’s cheek as if she hasn’t just orchestrated Vi’s complete and utter destruction.
Vi swallows hard, trying to ground herself. But there’s no foothold. No mask to fall back on. Cait has stripped her bare, first her body, then the rest. Now all that’s left is the pieces of her. Jagged and unmade.
And yet somehow, despite her fracturing, she feels undeniably whole.
‘Fuck,’ she breathes, barely more than a rasp.
Cait hums, pleased and smug, but soft. She pulls out with slow care, fingers brushing soothingly along Vi’s inner thighs, drawing another shuddered gasp from her. Vi twitches, oversensitive, overstimulated. Her whole body feeling electric and fragile.
Cait lies down beside her, gathering her up gently, pulling Vi into her chest like something precious. Her hands stay in motion, stroking through damp hair, fingertips gliding down the curve of Vi’s back.
‘You’re alright, my love,’ she whispers. ‘You’re perfect.’
Vi hides her face in Cait’s neck, still shaking. ‘You fucking broke me.’
Cait chuckles against her ear. ‘Yes, well… that was the goal.’
Vi snorts a laugh, but it dies quickly. What rises in its place is something quieter. Deeper. Something she doesn’t know how to say yet—not out loud.
That she’s never let anyone in like this. That no one’s ever held her this way after. That Cait hadn’t just made her scream, she’s made her feel loved and cherished and safe and happy.
Vi swallows it all down, letting the silence say what she can’t.
And Cait doesn’t push.
She just holds her.
Their legs tangle together, breath slowing in sync, and Vi lets herself rest—wrung out, wrecked, utterly hers.
——————
The heat between her legs is finally ebbing, replaced by a deep, sweet ache that hums through her bones like a song she never knew the words to until now.
Cait has one arm draped around her waist, the other buried in Vi’s hair, combing slow, soothing strokes through the damp strands. Her thumb occasionally brushes behind Vi’s ear, absent, affectionate. Grounding.
Vi lets out a shaky exhale. Her voice is a little steadier when she finally speaks again.
‘You win,’ she rasps, cracked and bare.
Cait hums, low and pleased, not bothering to hide the smugness bleeding into her tone. ‘Because you actually screamed so loud that the staff probably fled the estate this time?’
Vi groans and reaches blindly for the nearest pillow, dragging it over her face.
‘Don’t,’ she mutters into the cotton. Her cheeks are on fire, her body still wrecked and loose and floating in the aftermath, but this? Talking about it? This part always makes her feel exposed in a way that even screaming during sex never does.
To be this loud. This open.
It should be dangerous.
But with Cait, it feels like freedom.
‘Cait—’
‘No, no,’ Cait cuts her off, grinning audibly. ‘Don’t backpedal now. Tell me, did this goddess fuck you hard enough to make the heavens hear you?’
Vi groans louder, half into the pillow, half into Cait’s collarbone.
She mutters something profane and unintelligible, and Cait laughs. Not mean. Just delighted. Like she knows exactly how much Vi’s flailing, and loves her all the more for it.
Vi’s heart pounds, not from the memory of her orgasm, but from the sharp, terrifying tenderness of it all. This connection. This trust. This quiet, glowing certainty that maybe everything she’s survived, all the pain and grit and grief, was leading to this.
To Cait.
To them.
‘And?’ Cait prompts, dipping her head to nip at Vi’s shoulder. ‘Did I?’
Vi peeks out from under the pillow with a glare that has no heat behind it.
‘You’re a menace, Caitlyn Kiramman,’ she mutters, eyes fluttering shut again just as Cait leans in to press a kiss to her temple.
‘And you’re mine,’ Cait murmurs back, soft and certain, like it’s the most natural truth in the world.
And it is.
Vi melts against her again, letting Cait hold her just like that.
No armour. No mask. No fear.
Just this; Warm skin. Slow breath. Tangled hearts.
Outside, she knows the night stretches long and still.
But here, beneath the velvet canopy in the heart of House Kirraman, their world is blissfully small. Sacred. Untouchable.
And if the stars and gods were actually listening—
They’d hear a love loud enough to shake them.