Archive of Our Own

Vi checked the clock twice to be sure. Forty-five minutes until the gala.

She'd spent the better part of an hour getting ready and had finished first, which she was quietly proud of. She'd wrestled herself into the slacks Caitlyn had picked out, buttoned the white shirt that apparently "made her look sharp," and even tamed her hair into something that looked intentional rather than like she'd lost a fight with a windstorm. Her jacket was draped over the back of a chair, waiting. Her shoes were already on, which she considered further evidence of a job well done.

Caitlyn was still in the bedroom.

"Hey," Vi called, pushing open the door. "We should leave in about-"

The words died in her throat.

Caitlyn was bent over the vanity, leaning close to the mirror to apply something to her eyelashes. Sheer nylons climbed from her feet to mid-thigh, held in place by a garter belt that Vi could not look away from. Above that, a matching set of underwear in deep blue, lace that cupped her breasts and barely covered her ass. Vi had seen everything in Caitlyn's underwear drawer. None of it looked like this. A pair of heels sat on the floor beside her, waiting their turn.

She hadn't put her dress on yet.

Vi stood frozen in the doorway, her mouth hanging open, the rest of her sentence gone — not forgotten, just no longer relevant to anything happening in the universe. Her hands had gone numb and her pulse was suddenly very loud in her ears. The doorframe was the only thing keeping her upright, her knuckles white where they gripped the wood.

The garter belt. The stockings. The blue lace cupping Caitlyn's breasts, barely covering her ass, the straps drawing lines down her thighs like arrows pointing exactly where Vi wanted to look. The nylons made her legs look like they went on forever, the garter clips drawing the eye down, and Vi couldn't get past any of it — couldn't move, couldn't look away, couldn't remember what she'd come in here to say.

Vi stood there, useless. She was aware, distantly, that she should say something, do something, but every part of her was fixed on the image in front of her and nothing else was getting through. The late afternoon light caught the sheen of the hosiery. Caitlyn leaned toward the mirror and her shoulder blades shifted and the small of her back was bare above the garter belt.

Caitlyn glanced at her in the mirror. "Did you need something?"

"I-" Vi's voice came out approximately two octaves higher than normal. She cleared her throat and tried again. "You're wearing that. Under the dress."

"Obviously." Caitlyn returned her attention to the mirror, applying another stroke of mascara with steady hands. "You don't wear a gown without proper foundation garments. It ruins the line."

"Foundation garments. Since when?"

"The bra. The underwear. The stockings." She said it like Vi was being slow, which, to be fair, Vi absolutely was. "Is there a problem?"

The problem was that Vi was hardening in her slacks, her cock pressing against the fabric with a speed that should have been embarrassing. She swallowed and got nothing. Her palms were tingling.

"No problem," Vi managed. "Just. Give me a second."

She crossed the room.

Her hands landed on Caitlyn's hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh above the garter belt. She pressed forward, grinding her hardening cock against Caitlyn's ass, and heard Caitlyn's sharp intake of breath. Without her heels the height difference was small enough to work with and it put Vi's chin at Caitlyn's shoulder, her mouth right at her ear. Vi's dress shoes gave her just enough of a boost to press flush against her.

"Vi." She didn't move away from Vi's hands. "We don't have time for this."

"You're wearing stockings."

"I'm aware."

"And this-" Vi's hand slid up to trace the edge of the bra, the lace rough against her fingertips. "It all- it matches."

"It's a set. That's rather the point."

"I can't- you can't just- how am I supposed to walk away from this?" Vi rolled her hips, pressing harder, and Caitlyn's hand slipped against the vanity, sending a brush clattering to the floor. "Cupcake. I'm dying here."

They had forty minutes before they needed to leave. Vi could work with forty minutes.

"Just- let me-" Her fingers left Caitlyn's hip, traced along the waistband of the panties, across the lace, and down between Caitlyn's thighs. She pressed her fingers against Caitlyn through the fabric and felt how warm she was, the lace already soaked through. "You're wet."

"I've been getting dressed for twenty minutes." She had to stop and start again. "I had a fairly good idea of how you'd react. I was... curious to see if I was right."

"You planned this."

"I didn't plan anything. But I did consider that you might... appreciate the effort."

Caitlyn said it to the mirror and went back to her eyelashes.

Vi whined. There was no other word for it.

Vi pulled the panties to the side and slid her fingers through Caitlyn's folds. Bare skin, hotter than her fingers expected, and Vi groaned against her ear. The mascara wand went still. She found Caitlyn's clit and circled it with two fingers, slow and firm, while her hips kept grinding, her cock pressing against Caitlyn's ass through her slacks.

The wand clattered onto the vanity.

In the mirror Vi could see everything. Her own face, flushed and intent, pressed against Caitlyn's shoulder. Caitlyn's hands braced on the vanity, knuckles going white. Caitlyn's lips parting, her eyelids flickering, her carefully maintained composure cracking at the edges. Vi's arm disappearing between Caitlyn's thighs, her wrist moving in small, steady circles.

"Your face," Vi breathed, watching the mirror. She pressed harder, rubbing Caitlyn's clit in tight strokes, and watched Caitlyn's expression crack. "Cait- look at what I'm doing to you."

Caitlyn's eyes met hers in the mirror. Dark, heavy-lidded, her mouth open. Her hips were rocking now, each push grinding her against Vi's fingers. Vi didn't change anything. Same pressure, same speed, her cock continuing to grind against her ass.

"Vi-" Her hands gripped the vanity, her back arching. "I-"

"Keep looking at me." Vi watched the mirror. It arrived in Caitlyn's face. Brow furrowing, lips going thin and then falling open, every muscle in her drawing up. Vi rubbed a little harder, her fingers slick, and ground her hips forward.

Caitlyn came with a gasp that she bit down on, her body shuddering, her hips jerking against Vi's hand. Vi felt it pulse under her fingers, felt Caitlyn's thighs clamp around her wrist, and watched her face in the mirror. The slack mouth and the flutter of her eyelids, all visible to her. She worked her through it, gentle circles growing slower as Caitlyn came down, until Caitlyn's hand closed around her wrist and pulled it away.

Her hips hadn't stopped moving against Caitlyn. She reached for her belt with her free hand, fingers fumbling at the buckle—

"No." Caitlyn's voice was steadier than it had any right to be. Her hand caught Vi's wrist again.

"Cait-"

"We have to leave in thirty-five minutes." Caitlyn straightened up, dislodging Vi's body from hers, and smoothed her panties back into place in two quick movements. She picked up her mascara wand. Her hand was shaking at the fingertips, barely, but she resumed applying it, her eyes on her own reflection. "I still need to do my hair. And my lipstick. And put on a dress."

"You just- I just made you-" Vi stared at her. Her hand was still wet. Her cock was straining against her slacks with the outline showing through the fabric. "My hand is still wet and you're doing your mascara."

"We have thirty-four minutes." Caitlyn met her eyes in the mirror and the glint there, satisfied and amused, made Vi's cock twitch. "Go wait in the living room."

"Seriously?"

Vi stood there for a long moment, breathing hard, her fingers slick with Caitlyn's wetness and her belt half-undone and her cock aching against her zipper. The injustice was total. Caitlyn's composure reassembled itself in real time, piece by piece, from the inside. Hands steady, shoulders straight, expression neutral. Only the flush on her chest and the slight unevenness of her breathing gave anything away.

Vi refastened her belt, washed her hands, and went to wait in the living room.

She did not sit down because sitting down would have been a war crime against her slacks and everything inside them. Her balls alone would not have survived the seam. Instead she went to the kitchen and decided it was time to finish putting away the dishes she had washed earlier. It helped a bit.

Twenty-eight minutes later, Caitlyn emerged from the bedroom in a blue dress that fit like it had been sewn onto her body, her hair swept up, her makeup flawless, and the heels—those heels, tall and sharp and adding three inches to her already considerable height. The lipstick was on and it was very red. She looked like someone who had not come on Vi's fingers half an hour ago.

"Ready?" she asked, as if Vi had been the one they were waiting for.

The gala was held in the Medarda estate's grand ballroom, crystal chandeliers and marble floors and a string quartet in the corner, and Vi spent most of it leaning against things and making a serious effort to think about the buffet.

It didn't work. Caitlyn moved through the room without appearing to work at it, poised, polished, the blue dress catching the light every time she turned. She talked to councilors, laughed at the right moments, held her champagne at exactly the angle that meant she was paying attention. She fit the room. She also looked, to exactly one person in it, like someone wearing a matching lingerie set under a gown. Every time Caitlyn shifted her weight, the image from the vanity was right there. The garter straps, the lace, the way Caitlyn's face had looked in the mirror when she came. And then the flat no and the door closing behind Vi as she went to wait like she'd been dismissed.

Vi's cock had been at some stage of hard since the bedroom and the formal slacks were not designed for this. She tugged at her jacket hem, leaned against pillars, drank champagne she didn't taste, and watched Caitlyn be beautiful and composed from across the room. An hour in, she'd found Caitlyn between conversations and asked, quietly and carefully, if they could leave. Caitlyn had looked at her, taken a sip of champagne, glanced at her mother by the windows, and said "We just got here, Vi" in a voice that could have been declining a second glass of champagne.

She ended up near Mel. Mel handed her a glass of wine she hadn't asked for and said something about a restaurant she'd tried in the old quarter and for a few minutes Vi almost forgot about the garter belt.

Caitlyn was with her parents by the windows. She had the posture she used for council briefings and her mother was talking. When she caught Vi looking, her expression didn't change, but her eyes stayed a beat too long.

"-and the portions were the size of my thumbnail," Mel was saying. She tilted her head. "You and Caitlyn should try it. It's very her."

"Yeah," Vi said. "She'd probably-"

Across the room, Caitlyn tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. That was it. That was the entire gesture. But the motion pulled the neckline of her dress a fraction to the side and a fraction was all it took. The blue lace underneath, Caitlyn's skin flushed under the lamplight, the sound she'd made when Vi's fingers found her clit, her hips jerking—

"-love it," Vi finished, approximately four seconds too late.

Mel's glass paused halfway to her lips. Her eyes moved from Vi's face to the point across the ballroom where Vi had been staring, which was Caitlyn's neck, and back. The corner of her mouth twitched.

"I see," Mel said.

"What?"

"Nothing." Mel took a sip of her wine. The twitch became an actual smile. "You haven't looked away from Caitlyn since I started talking."

Vi's face was on fire. Mel knew. Not the details, but enough to know Vi's whole attention was south of her own belt and her composure was down to two jacket buttons. "I was listening. I was- the restaurant, the portions, the- the thumbnail thing- I heard all of it-"

"Vi." Mel patted her arm. The smile was open now. "Go home."

Vi didn't need to be told twice. She crossed the room and found Caitlyn mid-conversation with a councilor she didn't recognize. She politely waited until there was a pause.

"Can we go, Cupcake?" Vi said, low enough that only Caitlyn could hear.

Caitlyn looked at her. Took in Vi's flushed face, the grip on her wine glass, Vi holding her jacket closed with her free hand. Caitlyn's eyes dropped to Vi's mouth and took their time coming back up.

"Yes," she said. "I think we've fulfilled our social obligations."

Caitlyn made her excuses, an early meeting entirely fabricated, and they headed for the door. Vi's hand pressed against the small of Caitlyn's back as they walked, palm flat against the fabric, feeling the ridges of the garter belt beneath.

The car ride home was its own kind of torture for about thirty seconds.

Caitlyn climbed in first and settled against the bench seat without looking at the step. Vi climbed in after her, pulled the door shut, and sat with her hands on her thighs for as long as it took Caitlyn to kiss her.

The driver was six feet away on the other side of a wall that was not thick, but that barely registered in Vi's brain.

It wasn't a polite kiss. Caitlyn's hand fisted in the front of Vi's shirt and pulled her in hard, her mouth hot and open, her tongue sliding against Vi's with an urgency that didn't match any of the composure she'd spent the last ninety minutes performing. Vi made a sound against her mouth that had no business coming out of a person at a social event — half groan, half plea, two hours of aching denial collapsing the instant Caitlyn's tongue touched hers. Her hands were shaking when they found Caitlyn's waist and her whole body was shaking. Which was actually a bit embarrassing given that all Caitlyn had done was kiss her, but Vi had been hard since the vanity and her cock was uncomfortable for most of the night. Caitlyn's hip was right there and she couldn't pick between grinding forward and dragging Caitlyn closer or just stay here with her mouth on Caitlyn's mouth until one of them died. She kissed her back with everything she had.

Caitlyn's hands were everywhere. On Vi's jaw, angling her head. Behind her ear. Down her chest, palms pressing flat against Vi's chest through the white shirt, pushing against the binder underneath. Vi gasped into her mouth from the pressure, Caitlyn's hands bearing down like she was trying to reach Vi through everything in the way.

"Two hours," Caitlyn said against her mouth. "I have been thinking about this for two hours."

"You've been-" Vi's voice cracked as Caitlyn's fingers pinched through the fabric. "You've been torturing me for two hours."

"Yes." Caitlyn pressed her mouth to the corner of Vi's. "That too."

Vi's hands found Caitlyn's shoulders and slid up to the straps of her dress. She hooked her fingers under them and pulled them down, dragging the fabric off Caitlyn's shoulders until it bunched at her elbows, the neckline dropping to reveal the blue bra underneath. The lace was dark against Caitlyn's skin in the dim light of the car, the structured cups pushing her breasts together, the tops of them rising and falling with her breathing.

Vi stared. She'd been imagining this exact image for two hours and it was somehow better than the memory.

"Come here," Vi said and pulled Caitlyn onto her lap.

Caitlyn went willingly, hiking up her dress as she swung a leg over. The fabric bunched at her hips, riding up her thighs, and Vi's hands immediately dropped to Caitlyn's legs. She ran her palms along the outside of Caitlyn's thighs and felt the sheer fabric under her hands. The texture was smooth and warm from Caitlyn's skin underneath. Her fingers traced the line where the stockings ended and bare skin began, then down again, following the seam, pressing into the muscle of Caitlyn's calves. The garter clips sat under the bunched dress, small metal hardware connecting fabric to skin, now body temperature from a whole evening of being worn.

Caitlyn settled her weight in Vi's lap, her knees bracketing Vi's hips, and Vi's cock was flattened between them under all that fabric, and Vi came up off the seat to meet her.

Vi pressed her face into Caitlyn's cleavage.

The skin there was warm and soft. She could smell Caitlyn's perfume over the sweat she'd worked up at the gala and Vi kissed the swell of Caitlyn's breast above the lace, dragging her lips across the line where skin met fabric. Caitlyn's hand came up to the back of Vi's head, pressing her closer, and Vi opened her mouth against the curve of her breast.

"Cait, this is so much worse up close." Vi's voice was muffled against skin. Her hands gripped Caitlyn's ass, pulling her forward, grinding Caitlyn down onto her cock through her slacks. Caitlyn gasped, her hips rolling into the pressure and Vi pulled her in again, harder, slower, and this time Caitlyn moved with her. Every roll pressed her cock flat against Caitlyn through four layers of fabric and gave her nothing, which somehow made it worse.

Caitlyn's hips matched the rhythm, rocking against Vi, damp coming through the clothes where the panties were. She kissed up Caitlyn's chest, across her collarbone, bit gently, careful not to leave any marks, while her hands kneaded Caitlyn's ass and pulled her down with each roll.

The car hit a bump in the road.

The jolt drove Caitlyn down hard into Vi's lap, Vi's cock grinding against her with sudden pressure, and Vi's breath went out of her. Caitlyn's full weight coming down through too many layers and her cock pinned against everything it couldn't get to. They both made a sound. Caitlyn a sharp gasp, Vi a strangled groan. The car rocked back to level and they stared at each other for a beat, breathing hard.

"That," Vi said, "was unfair."

Caitlyn laughed, a real one, breathless, into the side of Vi's neck, and then she was kissing her again. It was hungrier this time, her tongue pushing into Vi's mouth. Her hands went back to Vi's chest, pulling at the white shirt, and Vi heard the fabric strain before two buttons popped, pinging off the car wall and disappearing somewhere into the dark. Caitlyn's hands slid inside, palms flat against Vi's bare skin, fingers dragging over her abs and up against the binder, pressing where the binder ended and skin began.

Vi arched into her hands, groaning into Caitlyn's mouth. Her hips jerked up, grinding against Caitlyn, and whatever rhythm they'd had was gone.

Then Caitlyn's hand dropped between them.

Vi felt her fingers find the buckle of her belt. Felt the metal give, the button pop, the zipper drag down. Caitlyn's hand slid inside Vi's slacks, past her underwear, and wrapped around her cock.

Vi's entire body seized. Her head dropped back against the seat, her mouth falling open on something low and wrecked . Caitlyn's hand was warm and tight and Vi was past the point where being hard was comfortable. Her cock pulsing against Caitlyn's palm, already leaking.

"Fuck- Cait-"

"I know." Caitlyn stroked her, slow, pulling Vi out of her slacks until her cock was free between them, flushed and slick at the tip, Caitlyn's fingers wrapped around the shaft. "I know."

This wasn't what her body was craving. This wasn't sex. It was a hand on her cock in a car, which was not the same thing, but Vi was in no condition to argue the difference. Caitlyn's thumb swiped over the head, spreading the wetness, and Vi's hips jerked into her fist.

Caitlyn started stroking. Steady, firm pulls, her wrist twisting at the top until Vi's spine curled and she swore into the dark. Vi was close. The orgasm already building at the base of her spine and climbing—

A knock on the car roof.

Caitlyn's hand stopped.

Vi made the worst sound she'd produced all evening. "No- don't- Cait, I'm so close-"

"We're here." Her hand was already gone. Off Vi's cock, up at her own dress straps. Vi's cock was out in the air with nothing to press against, slick and hard and straining toward a hand that was no longer there.

Vi stared at the ceiling of the carriage, breathing through her teeth, her cock out, her belt open, her shirt missing two buttons, and her orgasm dissolving half a second short.

She tucked herself back in with shaky hands. The zipper did not want to go up. The belt took three attempts. Her cock was hard and wet and the angle was all wrong and cramming it back into her slacks took both hands and her balls got the worst of it.

Caitlyn climbed off her lap without a word and put herself back together in four efficient movements that Vi was too wrecked to count.

Vi held her shirt closed with one hand, which was the best she could manage with two buttons gone. Her jacket barely being any help.

They stepped out of the carriage looking like two people who had been doing exactly what they'd been doing. Caitlyn's hair was coming loose on one side. Vi's shirt gaped where the buttons were missing. The driver very carefully looked at a point somewhere above their heads.

They made it through the front door. Barely.

The moment the lock clicked behind them Vi had Caitlyn pressed against the wood. She kissed her hard, hands searching for the zipper at the back of the dress. Caitlyn kissed like she was done waiting and her mouth opened under Vi's.

Caitlyn gasped bedroom between kisses and Vi countered with here, now, but Caitlyn pulled back, her hands firm on Vi's shoulders. "I didn't wear this setup all night just to have you take it off in the entryway."

That got through. She grabbed Caitlyn's hand and practically dragged her down the hallway, their footsteps loud in the quiet apartment.

The bedroom was dark, lit only by the city lights through the window. Vi fumbled for the lamp, needing to see, and soft golden light spilled across the bed.

"Just the dress," Vi said, her voice raw. She stepped behind Caitlyn, found the zipper, and drew it down with two fingers. Slowly. Feeling the teeth give one by one.

"You're taking your time," Caitlyn said.

"I've earned it."

The blue fabric loosened and fell, pooling around Caitlyn's feet.

She was standing in everything she'd had on that afternoon, plus the heels, and the lamplight caught every part of it — the lace against her skin, the clips holding the nylons taut, the flush spreading down her chest.

Vi said "fuck" with no air behind it.

Nobody had anywhere to be. Caitlyn was four feet away and waiting and it was hitting Vi like she hadn't already seen it once tonight.

"Everything else stays on," she said. "I need all of it on you."

"I gathered." Caitlyn stepped out of the dress and moved toward the bed, climbing onto the mattress with a grace that shouldn't have been possible in heels that sharp. She settled on her back, propped against the pillows. Her gaze traveled from Vi's missing buttons to the strip of skin showing through the gap. "You look like you've had a difficult evening."

"Wonder why."

Vi shrugged off her jacket, which landed somewhere, and climbed onto the bed, still in her slacks and the ruined white shirt. The edge of her binder visible where the buttons were missing. She settled between Caitlyn's legs and stopped there. Hands on Caitlyn's knees. Not moving.

From here the garter straps ran in clean lines from the belt to the stocking tops. The flush had spread past Caitlyn's collarbones. Her heels were still on, sharp and ridiculous against the sheets, and Vi had spent two hours at a gala not seeing this.

She pressed Caitlyn's thighs apart with her hands. The sheer fabric was smooth under her palms. The panties were damp.

Damp. Through a gala and a carriage ride and the walk to the bedroom.

Vi hooked a finger in the panties and pulled them to the side.

"Vi."

But Vi wasn't listening anymore. She lowered her head between Caitlyn's thighs, breathing her in. Warm and sharp and familiar. The panties stretched, exposing Caitlyn completely, and Vi pressed her mouth to her pussy without preamble. Her cock was trapped against the mattress, hard and aching through the fabric of her slacks, and the pressure of her own weight against it was making her dizzy.

Caitlyn arched off the bed with a cry. Vi opened her with her tongue, slowly at first, tasting her, her lips and tongue coming away wet. She circled Caitlyn's clit gently and then stopped circling, and the sound Caitlyn made was high and cracked. The fabric of the panties was rough against her cheek and she couldn't care less.

"Oh-" Caitlyn's hands gripped Vi's hair, pulling tight. "There. Right there. Don't change anything."

Vi had no intention of stopping. She moved closer, gripped Caitlyn's thighs, and let the full weight of her mouth work against Caitlyn's pussy. The room didn't extend much past Caitlyn's thighs from down here, and the air was mostly her. The stockings were smooth against her shoulders, the heels digging into the mattress on either side of her, and every time Caitlyn's legs shifted a garter clip caught on Vi's ear.

She ate her out with single-minded focus. Circling her clit, dipping lower to lick through her folds, then back to the clit with firm, flat strokes that made Caitlyn's thighs clamp against her ears. She gripped those thighs and held them open, pressing her mouth harder against Caitlyn. Her tongue pushing inside, tasting her deep, then dragging back up to her clit with a pressure that made Caitlyn buck off the bed.

Caitlyn's breathing had gone ragged, punctuated by sounds she wasn't controlling: a whimper when Vi's tongue pressed flat and firm, a sharp intake when Vi bore down, a low moan when Vi slowed down and did the same thing over and over. She rocked against Vi's mouth, pushing up for more, and Vi let her. Let Caitlyn grind against her tongue while Vi worked her clit in steady, relentless strokes.

Her tongue alone, working Caitlyn open and slick and desperate. Caitlyn was soaking, the wetness spreading across Vi's chin, her lips, dripping down to the mattress beneath them. Vi was rocking against the mattress, her cock dragging against the fabric of her slacks, leaking into her underwear. She sealed her mouth over Caitlyn's clit and worked her tongue in quick, hard flicks, and Caitlyn's thighs shook. Her heel scraped the mattress. Her hand came down on the top of Vi's head and pressed.

"Vi- I'm- please-"

Vi didn't let up. Caitlyn's clit was swollen against her tongue, hard and slippery, and she worked it fast without changing the angle, the seal of her mouth never breaking, while the garter straps traced blue lines against pale thighs above her.

Vi felt it start as a tremor in Caitlyn's thighs, then everything above it went with her — clit swelling against Vi's tongue, Caitlyn curving off the bed in a slow, cracking arch, Vi's name stretched thin in her throat. It arrived slowly and then kept arriving, while Vi's mouth stayed sealed and her tongue kept working, gentler now, easing her through it, until Caitlyn was pushing at her shoulders, oversensitive and gasping, her thighs slack against Vi's ears.

Vi pulled back, pressing her mouth to the inside of Caitlyn's thigh where the stocking ended and bare skin began. She rested her cheek there, her chin slick. Caitlyn's taste still sharp on her tongue. Sweat was prickling at her hairline and her shirt was sticking to her lower back where the cotton was still intact. Her cock hurt differently now, a low pull that ran from her stomach to her knees. Above her, Caitlyn's chest heaved, her hand loosening in Vi's hair, more petting than holding now.

Vi lifted her head. The flush had spread down past Caitlyn's collarbones. She had one hand over her eyes and wasn't moving it.

"I want to go again," Vi said. "Can you do one more?"

Caitlyn looked at her, flushed and wrecked and still catching her breath. "Yes."

Vi's hands slid up the outside of Caitlyn's thighs, smooth under her palms, and pushed them up and apart, spreading Caitlyn even more open. From here nothing was hidden: Caitlyn's pussy swollen and slick, the lace panties twisted against her thigh, her clit still flushed and exposed. Vi held her there, thighs pressed toward her chest, knees wide, and just looked for a moment.

"Fuck," Vi breathed. "You're so-" She didn't finish the sentence. She lowered her mouth and went back in.

Caitlyn made a sound that was close to a sob. She was sensitive from the first orgasm. Every stroke of Vi's tongue drew a sharper response, a higher sound, jerking against Vi's grip. Vi held her open and worked her clit in slow, firm circles, taking her time. She wanted to watch this one build.

She looked up without lifting her mouth. Past the plane of Caitlyn's stomach, past the blue bra, she met Caitlyn's eyes.

Caitlyn was watching her. Looking down between her own spread thighs at Vi's face between her legs, Vi's mouth on her, Vi's eyes looking back. Vi's jaw went loose against her. Her hands tightened on Caitlyn's thighs.

Their gazes locked and Vi saw it hit Caitlyn too. Her lips parted.

Vi held the eye contact and sucked.

Caitlyn's head went back. Her thighs fought Vi's grip, trying to close, and Vi held them open and did not move, her mouth sealed, eyes up, even though Caitlyn was no longer looking down. Caitlyn's hands grabbed at Vi's head, let go, grabbed again, found nothing that would hold still under them. She bucked and Vi dropped a forearm across her and held her still.

When she came, her legs snapped shut. Around Vi this time, not her head, her heels hooking into Vi's back and pulling Vi closer. The spike of the heels dug through the thin fabric of Vi's already ruined shirt. Cotton giving, a rip, air on a strip of skin between her shoulder blades. Caitlyn shook under her, her voice going high and thin and cutting out halfway, her walls pulsing even without anything inside her.

Vi worked her through it, gentler now, just her tongue resting against Caitlyn's clit with barely-there pressure until Caitlyn pushed her away for real this time, both hands on Vi's shoulders, shaking.

Vi pulled back. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Her shirt had a new tear from the left shoulder blade to the middle of her back and cold air on the skin under it.

Caitlyn lay boneless against the pillows, chest heaving. Her knees were still open where Vi had left them. The panties had given up any pretense of being in their original position.

Vi put her mouth against Caitlyn's thigh and left it there, her hands shaking against Caitlyn's thighs.

"How was that?"

Instead of answering, Caitlyn's hand found Vi's belt.

Caitlyn wasn't looking at her face. She was up on one elbow, eyes on the bulge straining against Vi's slacks. The way she looked at Vi's cock — like she'd decided it was hers and was coming to collect — made Vi's hips jerk against nothing. Her fingers worked the buckle fast and without asking.

"Cait-"

Caitlyn yanked the belt open, popped the button, dragged the zipper down. She shoved Vi's slacks and underwear down together, rough and urgent, and Vi's cock sprang free. It was flushed and leaking with the head slick. Caitlyn pushed the fabric past Vi's knees and Vi kicked, trying to get them off, but the pants bunched at her ankles and caught on her shoes. Both legs.

Caitlyn was pushing Vi onto her back, swinging a leg over.

"Hold on- my shoes-"

"Leave them." Caitlyn's voice had nothing left in it. Vi's pants and underwear sat in a tangle around both ankles, her legs effectively bound at the bottom, and Caitlyn didn't care. The lace was still twisted against her thigh where Vi had pushed it and she lowered herself down.

The head of Vi's cock pressed against her entrance, slick and hot, and Caitlyn sank onto her in one slow, deliberate slide. Vi's mouth fell open and stayed that way. The only sound she managed was "oh." Caitlyn was so wet from coming three times that there was no resistance. Just heat and pressure and the tight grip of her adjusting around Vi.All night there had been something in the way and now she finally got to feel Caitlyn wrapped around her cock.

"Oh, fuck," Vi breathed.

Caitlyn settled fully in Vi's lap, every inch of Vi inside her, and paused there. She braced her hands on Vi's stomach, fingers pressing into the exposed skin between the open halves of the ruined white shirt, and rolled her hips experimentally. Vi's hands flew to Caitlyn's thighs, gripping the stockings, feeling the nylon stretch under her fingers.

Then Caitlyn rode her.

She lifted herself slowly, the drag of Vi's cock in her making them both shudder, and Vi's breath left her in a rush. Caitlyn sank back down with a thick, audible slide that echoed in the quiet bedroom and her breath caught at the bottom. Caitlyn set the rhythm and decided how fast, how deep, how hard. Her hips rolled in a slow figure-eight that ground her clit against Vi's pelvis at the bottom of each stroke.

"I believe this is what you were waiting for," she said, without looking down.

Vi looked up at her. Caitlyn above her with the lamp behind her, mostly shadow, except where the panties were pulled aside and Vi disappeared into her. Her stomach flexing with each movement. Then her chin tilted down, watching Vi watch her. Her lips parted and her eyes not moving off Vi's face.

"Cait," Vi managed, her hands sliding up Caitlyn's thighs, over the garter hardware, up to her waist. "Cait, I can't believe you're riding me in all of this. You look so hot."

Caitlyn's pace increased. She rode Vi harder, the sound of her landing on Vi filling the room, louder with each downstroke, less controlled. Vi was loud too, graceless, past the point of hiding it. Caitlyn's breasts bouncing in the blue bra with each drop. Vi's hands gripped her hips, pulling her down into each thrust, the angle letting Caitlyn control the depth and the pressure and the grind of her clit against Vi.

Caitlyn's heels dug into Vi's outer thighs where her calves pressed, small sharp points of pressure that hurt and that Vi wanted more of. Vi's pants were still tangled around both ankles and her legs hobbled. Her shirt was hanging open and Caitlyn was riding her with a steady rhythm.

Caitlyn's rhythm stuttered, grinding down harder now, less even. Her breathing became ragged and open-mouthed. Caitlyn went tight and loose and tight again around her cock and Vi planted her feet on the mattress and thrust up to meet her downstroke, swearing under her breath each time.

Caitlyn ground down hard and didn't come back up and Vi watched it happen from below — Caitlyn's stomach drawing tight with her face going slack with every bit of her weight in it. Vi felt the squeeze around her cock tighten in long, slow waves. She held Caitlyn's hips and kept her there, teeth together, absolutely not going first.

Caitlyn dropped forward onto Vi's chest, her forehead pressed against Vi's collarbone. Vi was still inside her, hard, unfinished.

"Cait, I really need to come."

Caitlyn laughed against her collarbone. "Yeah. Okay. Turn me over."

Vi kissed the top of her head. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet." Vi sat up with Caitlyn still on her and lowered her down carefully, Caitlyn's legs unwinding from around her, pliant and flushed, and as Caitlyn settled onto her back Vi kicked at her shoes, hard. The right one came free, taking the pant leg and underwear with it, and she shook her leg loose. The left shoe held. Vi kicked again, the fabric twisting tighter around her ankle.

"Oh for-" She gave up. One leg was free. The other still had a shoe and a full pant leg tangled around it. Her legs weren't locked together anymore and she wasn't spending another second on it.

She rose over Caitlyn. Caitlyn looked up at her, took in the one shoe, the pant leg trailing from her ankle, the ruined shirt hanging open, and the expression on Vi's face.

"You look ridiculous," Caitlyn said. "Get up here."

"You love me like this," Vi said as she moved up onto her knees, looking down at the picture Caitlyn made, flushed and panting, blue lace askew, her pussy glistening.

She pushed back inside and the angle was different from underneath. Shallower, tighter, and this time Vi was the one deciding how deep. Caitlyn's hands found her shoulders and held on.

"There you are," Caitlyn said.

Vi sank in to the hilt and Caitlyn grabbed the sheets, hands shoving at the mattress, and Vi held there, flush against the backs of her thighs.

Vi started with long strokes, pulling out almost all the way before sinking back in. Slow enough that Caitlyn's breath caught each time. The pace was unhurried, nothing like the rush before the gala.

"Fuck, Cupcake." Vi's voice caught. "You've been like this all night."

"Do you have any idea," Caitlyn said, "how difficult it is to discuss tariff policy in wet underwear?" Her hands gripped Vi's shoulders, nails digging into the muscle. She gasped as Vi drove in hard, the head pressing somewhere that made her voice slip. She ran her hand down Vi's back and stopped at the tear in her shirt.

Vi increased her pace, her hips snapping forward. "Every time you walked past me at that gala- every time I saw those stockings under that dress- I wanted exactly this."

She shifted, sitting back on her heels, pulling Caitlyn's hips into her lap. The new angle changed everything. Let her go further, let her see more. From here she watched herself disappear into Caitlyn, Caitlyn's pussy stretched around her, pink and wet and swollen. The lace of the bra had slipped and one nipple was almost clear of it. Vi's remaining pant leg swung from her left ankle with each stroke, shoe still attached, and she could not have cared less.

She thrust hard and Caitlyn rocked with it, the blue lace not holding anything back. "Cait," Vi managed, her voice rough. "I'm not going to recover from this."

She gripped Caitlyn's legs and lifted them, holding them up and apart for a better view. The position left Caitlyn exposed, open to whatever Vi wanted to do. The heels glinted in the lamplight as Vi held her legs wide. Vi could not work out how they were still on.

Vi couldn't hold a thought that wasn't about how Caitlyn's calves feel in the stockings against her shoulders and how the heels were digging into her traps and how she was going to feel that tomorrow and how she didn't care because from this angle she had a view of everything — her cock sliding in and out of Caitlyn, every reaction on Caitlyn's face, the blue lace dark against flushed skin.

Caitlyn was almost beyond words now, making small broken sounds with every stroke. Her head was thrown back, her throat exposed, every muscle drawn tight.

"More," Caitlyn managed, her voice breaking. "I can still think."

Vi leaned forward, folding Caitlyn nearly in half. Her legs over Vi's shoulders and pressed toward her chest. The position was consuming. Vi's weight pinning Caitlyn to the mattress, sweat dripping from her collarbone onto Caitlyn's chest and the angle letting her reach places she hadn't all night. She was bottoming out, everything about Caitlyn hot and close around her, deeper than she'd thought she could go.

"Like this?" Vi asked, rolling her hips in a slow grind that pressed against Caitlyn's deepest places.

Caitlyn couldn't answer. Her mouth was open, eyes unfocused, face slack. She'd fisted the sheets until the fabric gave along one seam. She trembled everywhere at once. Not from effort but from being that full. From being pressed somewhere she couldn't have pointed to.

Caitlyn tightened around her, the small clenches running together into one long pull. Vi held the pace and the angle, grinding in at the top of every stroke, hitting a place that was making Caitlyn's voice break with each stroke.

"Fuck, you're so beautiful," Vi said, barely getting the words out. Her balls were drawn up tight and she was close. Vi tracked every shift in her expression. Brow furrowing, mouth falling open, face going slack with whatever was about to happen to her.

Caitlyn screamed. Her heels crossed behind Vi's head and the squeeze went further into Vi than any of the four before it had. All the way to the base of her spine and it dragged her orgasm out of her before she was ready.

Everything she'd been holding since the vanity — the denial, the gala, Caitlyn's hand on her cock in the carriage and then not, the mattress grinding, every second of aching — broke at once. She drove forward as far as she could go, hips flush against Caitlyn's, her whole body pressed into it as she came inside her. It went on longer than it should have, each pulse dragging another groan out of her. She was filling Caitlyn, come leaking out around her where they met.

When it finally let go of her, Vi's arms gave out. She collapsed forward, catching herself on her elbows. Caitlyn's legs sliding down from her shoulders to wrap loosely around her waist. They lay tangled together, both breathing hard, neither willing nor able to move.

The room smelled like sex and expensive perfume. Sweat cooled on her back. The marks on her shoulders stung where the sweat hit them. Caitlyn's heart hammering where their chests pressed together. Her cock softening inside Caitlyn. Her white shirt hanging off one shoulder, buttonless and torn and technically still a shirt. Her slacks still tangled around her left ankle, shoe attached.

She shifted, pulling out carefully. They both hissed. Caitlyn made a small sound as Vi slid out of her, her hand catching Vi's hip, and they settled face to face on the pillows. Caitlyn was still in the bra and panties and stockings and heels, everything wrecked. One garter strap had come undone. The panties were twisted to the side. Her hair was a wild tangle against the pillow.

"I'm going to have to take these off eventually," Caitlyn said. "I can't sleep in a garter belt."

"Mm." Vi's eyes were already closing. She forced them open. "I'll help. Just... give me a..."

"It was worth it for the doorway alone." A pause. "I just don't know when I'd wear it again."

"Yeah," Vi said, though she'd lost track of the sentence. Her eyelids were heavy. The pillow was warm. Caitlyn was warm. Everything was warm and soft and the evening was apparently over and nobody had asked her about it. "I'm gonna... you look so..."

She felt Caitlyn's fingers brush her jaw. Heard her say something that ended on an upward note and Vi was probably being made fun of but her brain had clocked out around Caitlyn's third orgasm and wasn't taking messages.

The last thing she registered was Caitlyn's laugh, quiet and close, and then nothing.