Chapter Text
This was never about being gentle. Not Caitlyn’s hands gripping Vi’s hair as she drove her tongue inside her, marks all down Caitlyn’s back from blunted nails that curved and scratched a tableau across her back, a tapestry that read VIVIVI. Not handprints on Vi’s breasts on the sides and tops from blows that rained down, accompanied by little sounds and the twitch of hips and an icy blue stare and teeth sinking into a scarred upper lip. Not marks on Caitlyn’s wrists from the cuffs and bruises on her knees, an ache in the back of her throat from the feeling of Vi’s hands gripping her ponytail and forcing her down on her strap again and again and again.
It was about an itch that needed scratching. It was about four months together stemming from locking eyes at a work function - Vi had worked the door, Caitlyn had been reporting - and being filled with a mutual want that had flushed their throats, burned their skin. They had come together the first time three hours later, a shared uber ride where Vi had bite marks on her thighs and Caitlyn had tipped 500% out of guilt and shame.
They’d never said they were dating, but both had different ideas - Vi’s outlook was that Caitlyn was slumming, punching down, and Caitlyn’s was assuming they were something they decidedly weren’t. The miscommunications, misconceptions mounted and grew and ballooned until they shattered into a thousand tiny pieces.
Two weeks after their explosion, Caitlyn had started it - two words that spiralled into whatever non-gentle thing they were doing.
Caitlyn (Do Not Text):
you up?
Caitlyn answered the door in a robe and little else, Vi’s work boots scarred and paint splattering her jeans. Their mouths met angrily, hungrily, a power struggle with lips and teeth that tried to pull and push, dominance fought for in every single movement. Caitlyn’s fingers worked at Vi’s belt as Vi’s hands slid to Caitlyn’s long, narrow throat, both holding her, cradling her head with big hands as her thumbs caressed down the dainty column, traced Caitlyn’s swallow with a threat of squeezing. Caitlyn’s motions became frantic, hungry as she yanked the belt free, tossed it aside to start on the button of Vi’s jeans, ripping the zipper down to slide a hand to sandwich between damp cotton and Vi.
Vi’s breath quickened against Caitlyn’s lips as her thumbs stroked her throat once more, a small sound breathed into Caitlyn’s mouth - not a groan, not a pant, but a cross between both that left Caitlyn heady, weak. She swallowed again - just to feel those thumbs against her skin, the slickness of Vi spurring her on as her other hand pushed the denim past Vi’s hips, shoved it to hit the ground.
Vi shifted her grip to Caitlyn’s hips, lifted her and slammed her against the apartment door, Caitlyn’s back hitting wood and feeling the silk of her robe slide, snaking over her skin, exposing milky breasts and pebble-hard and dusty pink nipples. Vi lifted Caitlyn like she were nothing, biting down her collarbones to take one hardened nub between her teeth, pinching it between pearly whites and laving it with her tongue as Caitlyn’s head slammed against the door, a low, growling groan erupting from deep within her. She writhed against the hard planes of Vi’s clothed stomach, a whining, keening need forced out of lungs that suddenly needed so much air.
The hands that cupped Caitlyn’s ass began to explore, walking closer and closer to her pussy as Vi alternated, keeping Caitlyn lifted while she snuck a middle finger to part her folds, drew it slowly down, letting out an interested groan as her teeth released Caitlyn with a soft pop .
“You’re fucking soaked for me, cupcake,” Vi groaned.
“Don’t call me that,” Caitlyn snapped, even though it was weak, so weak, her hips grinding for more friction, more touches, more .
Vi moved them, shifting Caitlyn lower, dragging her down Vi’s front until her bare feet hit the rug in front of the door. With a careless tug, the robe pooled around her feet, one of Vi’s hands coming up to Caitlyn’s throat to force her back against the door, both of Caitlyn’s hands flying up to grip at Vi’s forearm as Vi leaned closer, lips near the shell of the taller woman’s ear.
“You need to be fucked this time?” she breathed, and even with this, even with the burning between them - the hurt feelings and the awful words and the misunderstandings, Vi checked in.
“Yes,” Caitlyn hissed, and Vi’s grip tightened, making Caitlyn squeak. Vi leaned even further, icy blue eyes becoming Caitlyn’s entire world as she lowered her voice to a growl .
“Yes, what?”
Caitlyn swallowed, her hips jerked forwards.
“Yes, ma’am,” she gasped out, and Vi’s lips crashed back down to hers.
Vi’s fist was closed around her hair, tightening at the nape of her neck where the strands were closest, the pulling was safest. She bit at Caitlyn’s lips, dragging teeth over skin in sharp little stabs that made Caitlyn tremble, weak with want. Vi pulled away, grunted lowly, tugged Caitlyn insistently forwards, down - making her crawl on her hands and knees towards the sofa, light swats on her milky ass driving her quicker, little yelps accompanying the slaps.
Vi led Caitlyn towards the sofa, tugged her until she was on her knees, then further still until she was bent over the arm of the couch, hands clasped above her head, face down. Rough hands at her thighs had her spreading them, her slickness evident in the light - moisture shimmering, an oil slick in flesh tones and gleams of white.
Vi’s hand remained in Caitlyn’s hair as probing digits slid downwards, finding Caitlyn ready, flexing against empty air. The initial entry was slow and smooth - giving her time to adjust, time to prepare for her. Caitlyn let out a mewling gasp, clenching around the two fingers curling inside her, slowly pressing into the warm and the wet, feeling the tight cocoon rippling, grasping, probing.
Vi smirked into Caitlyn’s back, bit at her left shoulder blade, hoped she left a mark.
“Be good,” Vi whispered to Caitlyn, and began to fuck her.
Her pace was relentless, brutal, and it drove Caitlyn to a keening wail, hips bucking against the arm of the couch. Caitlyn was aware that Vi hadn’t even shed her shirt - was still mostly clothed sans for her pants and boots - and the knowledge that Vi couldn’t wait to claim her sent her spiralling, head swimming with thoughts like desperate and owned and fucked as Vi pushed her fingers in and out, soft, wet sounds echoing around the apartment. Caitlyn’s breaths came out in a staccato rhythm - a drummer searching for the beat, lost in the waves of sound.
“Oh, fuck, Vi,” Caitlyn whimpered out, and was answered with a tug on her hair that made her back arch, body flush with the slight scratch of the sofa and the burning it had on her clit as she rubbed, seeking any extra friction, any amount of relief as Vi burned through her.
Vi’s pace became less of a thrust and more of a vibration, a pulsing, pounding, deep throb that had her rocking her hips faster, and faster, and Caitlyn couldn’t hold on - she tightened her fingers around each other and squeezed her eyes shut and allowed herself to feel the deeply pleasurable pain of Vi’s fist tightening in her hair and the couch against her breasts and her clit being rubbed raw and-
“Wait,” Vi whispered, and Caitlyn whined . Vi’s fingers slowed, vibrations ceasing, pace a simple probing, a soft rhythm.
“Please,” she choked out, eyes opening, begging.
“No,” Vi whispered, “when I say.”
“ Please ,” Caitlyn whimpered, shifting. Vi’s fingers retreated from inside her, and suddenly she yelped as a crack filled the air, her own juices slapping against her ass as Vi’s hand cracked down. Without missing a beat, Vi entered her again, pushed forwards, deep and slow, deep and slow.
“Are you going to be good?” Vi asked.
“Yes, ma’am,” Caitlyn whispered.
“Good girl,” Vi said, and slowly increased her pace.
This time, it was less desperate. This time, Caitlyn went where Vi led - slowly and wonderfully up a cresting mountain. The hand in her hair was caressing, stroking, and the sensation of Vi’s hard thrusts combined with the soothing feeling of a hand in her hair made her rotate her hips imperceptibly, arching as hard as she could, toes digging into the hardwood to keep her balance, keep her braced.
Her orgasm was creeping slowly, but she was going to be good - she was going to do what she was told, and when Vi said so, she’d be rewarded.
Caitlyn trusted.
And then, Vi picked up speed again, the vibration coming back and being met with a throaty oh fuck as Caitlyn pressed further into the scratchy couch cushions, offering herself up, spreading wider and further as Vi drove her up and up and up and -
“Now, cupcake,” Vi spit out, and Caitlyn saw fireworks behind her squeezed shut eyes as her hands and forearms trembled, her body thrusting forwards and back, feet coming off the floor and legs curling inwards as Vi drove into her in short, deep stabs, and she was coming and coming and coming, fluids drenching the arm of the sofa, dripping onto the wood below.
Vi chuckled when it was done, and Caitlyn was slumped against the couch cushions, heaving broken little breaths. Vi rose, shed her shirt, tossed it carelessly to the hardwood floor as Caitlyn let out a little hum of satisfaction, pushing herself up on tender arms to watch Vi unclasp her bra, shimmy out of her boxers.
Vi took a seat on the couch, then swung her legs around to face Caitlyn, spread them slowly and threading her fingers in Caitlyn’s messy hair.
“Come here, cupcake,” she whispered, tugging Caitlyn forwards, and Caitlyn moved, eyes locked on the wet skin just below a trimmed red strip of hair, “my turn.”
Shaky with need, weak with feeling, Caitlyn obeyed.