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sceletaflores · 4 months ago

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where there’s sparks, there’s fire!

pairing: patrick zweig x fem!reader

summary: you can’t tell if patrick hates you as much as you hate him. every time you see him he’s constantly talking to you, touching you, trailing behind you. but he’s only doing all that to piss you off. you think back to tashi telling you it’s obvious that he wants to fuck you. you don’t see it. patrick wants to fuck everyone, you’re not special.

—or: patrick zweig is a slut. you can't stand him.

word count: 4.6k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, p in v, rough sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it y’all!), public sex (doing it in a coat closet lmao), more hate sex, swearing, fighting as foreplay, light choking, light hair pulling, degradation, even more hints of mean!reader cause i really do live for that shit, tashi and reader are cute besties always, porn with a little plot, no use of y/n.

author’s note: i originally wanted to post a tashi fic next but i realized i don't have any like actual full on plot filled patrick works lmao i felt bad neglecting him and my patrick girlies so yeah. once again had literally so much fun writing this, like i hardcore love this niche!!! i ride so hard for it!!! the tashi fic i'm working on also falls into this category lols and yes this is fourth of july themed and it's late shut up i cannot write fast for the life of me...anyway! to the anons who requested something like this, hope you love it! okay bye mwah xoxo.

Patrick Zweig is a huge slut.

Everyone knows that. He doesn't even go to Stanford but he's still somehow managed to sleep with a third of the girls on campus, maybe even more than a few guys too if the rumors going around are true.

You hate him. Hate isn't even a strong enough word. You loathe him. You despise him. You detest him. Pick any other fancy synonym, the point still stands. You just really fucking hate him.

It blows your mind that someone as sweet and angelic as Art would be best friends with someone like him. Someone who's so obnoxious, so arrogant, so crass. Art’s the guy that goes out of his way to protect you from the gross frat bros at parties, only to bring his very own as a plus one.

Sigma Nu throws a rager every year on the fourth, extending invites to those who are still in Stanford for the summer. The women’s tennis team is always invited, and Tashi always ends up convincing you to go. Well, she’s less convincing than she is more forcing you, but it’s basically the same thing to her anyway. She did your makeup and wrestled you into a Hollister dress, vowing to get you laid as she straightened your hair.

Tashi’s almost more invested in your sex life than you are, constantly hand-picking guys on campus for your consideration. She actually offered up Patrick once when you told her you wouldn’t fuck any of the guys on campus at all. The two of you were practicing, she suggested it as casual as ever while returning your serve. You were so shocked you stopped in your tracks, letting the ball fly right past you. She assured you she wouldn’t mind if you did, that what the two of them had was quote “Nothing serious, he’s just a really good fuck.” and that you should “Totally do it. He definitely wants to fuck you, I can tell.”

You just brushed her off, ignored the way she smirked knowingly at you over the net. Your cheeks burned as you served again, you wrote it off as annoyance. As if you would ever let Patrick Zweig fuck you.

You lost Tashi when she took off to the bathroom, texting you that she’d be a while thanks to a long line outside the door. You were leaning against a wall nursing a half-empty cup of jungle juice when he came up to you. You can’t remember his name, you think it starts with a B. Something like Brandon? Or maybe Brian? One or the other.

He’s Sigma Nu’s secretary, you sit three seats down from him in your economics lecture. Tashi says he has a crush on you, and he’s nice for a frat guy but he’s definitely not your type. He’s been droning on about his upcoming trip to his family's summer house in Cabo for almost ten minutes. You try your best to seem interested, humming and nodding every couple seconds. You’re in the middle of tuning him out when a loud, familiar voice calls out your name.

“There you are!” Patrick Zweig shouts from a few feet away, ugly American flag patterned flip flops smacking against the ground as he makes his way over to you. He’s wearing a bright red button down and white cargo shorts you scrunch your nose up at. He’s tanner than the last time you saw him, legs long and even more toned. “I’ve been looking everywhere for that pretty face.” He coos sweetly, his hand that isn't holding a bottle of Bud Light comes up to pinch your cheek.

You scoff, smacking his hand off your face. “You found me, so you can go bother someone else now,” you say, rubbing your cheek lightly. “Bye.” You press, waving your hand dismissively when he makes no move to walk away.

Patrick grins, unfazed by your reaction, he steps in even closer. “Yeah, I missed you too,” he says breezily, his breath smells like cheap beer and camel blues. He’s just as tall as you remember. He has tacky blue shutter shades resting on the top of his head. His eyes rake over your body shamelessly, lingering on the low dip of your neckline. “Cute dress.”

You ignore him, rolling your eyes before turning your attention back towards Brandon/Brian. He’s silent now, eyes flicking between you and Patrick skeptically. “Are you like, together, or something?”

You laugh loudly, quickly shaking your head ‘No’. Patrick beats you to speaking though, “God no, man.” he says through a laugh, dark curls bouncing as he shakes his head. “I came over here to warn you.” He continues, voice and expression going overly serious like he’s not talking out of his ass.

Brandon/Brian’s brows furrow, clearly confused. “Warn me?” he asks, head tilting to the left slightly. His puka shell necklace makes a small clicking sound as he moves.

Patrick nods his head gravely, clapping his free hand down on Brandon/Brian's shoulder a little too roughly to be considered friendly, shaking him back and forth like a rag doll. “Yeah, best of luck trying to get inside that snatch, man.” he says earnestly, jerking his head in your direction. “Cause’ she’s really fucking picky–”

You whip your head in his direction to cut him off, grimacing in disgust. “You would say snatch, you sick fuck.” you snap, red solo cup crunching quietly in your hand. Patrick just laughs, dropping his hand from Brandon/Brian’s shoulder. Anger stews inside you the longer he looks at you with that stupid shit-eating smirk on his face.

You can’t tell if Patrick hates you as much as you hate him. Every time you see him he’s constantly talking to you, touching you, trailing behind you. But he’s only doing all that to piss you off. You think back to Tashi telling you it’s obvious that he wants to fuck you. You don’t see it.

Patrick wants to fuck everyone, you’re not special. Sure, he may feel the constant need to be a horn-dog when he’s around you. That doesn’t mean anything. Patrick’s just gross, constantly making crude comments or lame innuendos. What Tashi fails to see is him making sex jokes around you is just another way he can piss you off. It’s not an open invitation into those god-awful shorts.

Patrick takes a small step back, big hands raising in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. Put the claws away,” You try to ignore the way him saying your name in that goddamn infuriating condescending tone makes your cheeks start heating up. Patrick leans his shoulder on the wall next to you, looking down at you with a small grin on his face. “I actually wanted to congratulate you on cracking the top twenty.” He takes a long sip of his beer, head lolling to the side lazily as he swallows. “Lucky number 14.”

You’re not too proud to admit that Patrick is kind of hot, especially in this lighting. He’s objectively a hot guy, and he knows it. All tall and firm looking even in his horrendous outfit. But he’s kind of cute too, in an ass-holey way. His hair's a mess of soft-looking black curls and his ears stick out from his head sort of endearingly. He’s close enough that you can see he’s got a little brown in his eyes, and long lashes. There’s a handful of freckles sprinkled over the bridge of his nose.

His big, strong nose that looks like it could work wonders between your legs. Or at least that’s what you’ve heard from Jen in your chem lab. Maybe this jungle juice is stronger than you thought.

Patrick's smirk widens, wolfish and dirty like he can see what you’re thinking. “That’s pretty impressive.” he continues, his tone a mix of genuine admiration and teasing. "Especially for someone who's always so...busy." He lets the last word hang in the air, a clear innuendo that makes your blood boil all over again.

"Busy training," you snap back, not willing to let him get under your skin any more than he already has. "Some of us have actual work ethic, Patrick. We put in the hours on the court instead of fucking anything that breathes, you know? So we don’t look like idiots that get their ass handed to them on tour by nobody scrubs."

You can feel the heat start to simmer in your stomach, anger and frustration bubbling beneath the surface as Patrick's presence continues to grate on your nerves. The tension between you is thick, amplified by the chaotic energy of the party swirling around you. You see Brandon/Brian take a long, awkward sip of his beer as he steps away, turning on his heel to quickly disappear into the sea of bodies crowding the living room. You roll your eyes internally, pussy.

Patrick grins, not deterred in the slightest. “You’ve been keeping up with my matches?” His voice is low and pleased sounding, shiny green eyes slowly getting swallowed by the black of his pupils.

You pause, owlishly blinking up at him in silence. You’ve been caught. Shit.

You can feel the immediate warmth of embarrassment burning hot on your cheeks as you cast your gaze to the floor. “Only when I need to cheer myself up, a losing streak that high is actually laughable.” You mutter to the floor, lightly swirling your drink in your cup.

Patrick laughs loudly, throwing his head back in amusement. “Still thinking about me though.” he says matter-of-factly, a lazy grin taking over his face.

His audacity sends another wave of anger and embarrassment through you, your grip tightens around your cup. "Only because you make such a spectacle of yourself," you retort sharply. "It's hard not to notice when you're crashing and burning so publicly."

Patrick's grin doesn't falter. If anything, it widens. "I'll take what I can get from you," he says, his tone a blend of amusement and something else that you can't place. "But seriously, congratulations. You deserve it."

His unexpected sincerity throws you off, and for a moment, you don’t know how to respond. It's rare to see Patrick in a light that isn’t coated in sarcasm or sleaze. You catch a glimpse of something genuine in his expression, something that almost resembles respect, and it confuses you.

It confuses you, and it makes something warm start to burn in your stomach. You can’t afford to feel any warm, fuzzy feelings around a guy like Patrick, not if you don’t want to get majorly fucked over the second he gets bored of you.

You don’t know how to react so you do what makes sense, you lash out.

“God, will you just fuck off and leave me alone Patrick,” you say, tone over-dramatic and long-suffering as you tip your head up to the ceiling in annoyance. “I’m trying to have fun.” A lie. The party kind of sucked compared to last years. You were planning on talking Tashi into leaving when she came back, but he didn’t need to know that.

Patrick’s cool exterior finally cracks, letting out a quiet huff of disbelief as a frown starts tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Jesus Christ, what the hell is your fucking problem? I’m being sincere.” The playful light in his eyes is gone, replaced by something darker.

You let out a loud laugh, shaking your head in amusement. “Maybe I’d believe that if you weren’t such an ass. I know you too well, Patrick.” You say, tone mean and condescending. You know he’s right, on some level, but that doesn’t stop you.

Patrick is silent for a beat, eyes boring into yours with an intensity that makes you want to start squirming. He lets out a quiet, bitter laugh, bringing his beer up to his lips to take a long sip. You watch the way his throat moves as he swallows, the way his lips look wrapped around the neck of the bottle. You feel a familiar heat start to pool between your legs, thighs clenching involuntarily as your mind envisions something else his slick, pink lips would look good wrapped around.

He drops the bottle to his side, finally breaking the silence. “You know, now I do believe you.” he says casually, swiping his tongue over his lips lazily. “You must really not be getting any dick acting like this much of an uptight bitch.”

You reel back in shock, his words hitting you like a punch in the gut. The wave of fury that sweeps through you is almost tangible, your vision narrowing to a tunnel that begins and ends with Patrick’s infuriatingly smug face. “What did you just say?” you ask completely taken aback, voice low and rough. Your hand twitches at your side with the need to throw your drink in his face, anger and embarrassment lapping white hot flames in your stomach.

Patrick just scoffs, heated gaze not breaking from your own. “You heard me.” He says, jaw set stubbornly. “You need like, emergency dick, or something to chill the fuck out for once.”

You feel your heart rate spike, your free hand clenching into a tight wrist by your side. “You’re a fucking pig.” your voice shakes with anger, you feel sweaty and hot all over. The heat swirling between your legs is persistent.

Patrick laughs, a loud and infuriating sound. “Come on, we both know you’re fucking begging for someone to give you what you need.” He says like it’s obvious, you clench your fist a little tighter. He takes a step closer, voice dropping down to a whisper meant just for you. “I can help you with that. I can fuck all that bratty shit right out of yo–”

You’re reacting before you can stop yourself, hand flying up to slap him hard across the face. The loud crack pierces through the room, loud enough that a few eyes turn in your direction. Patrick's head snaps to the side, the shades resting on the top of his head fly off.

Your heart stops, hands shaking with the realization of what you just did. You expect Patrick to flip out, start shouting and threatening to sue you or whatever else it is that rich people do. Time seems to slow down as he turns his head, and when he looks back at you, there's no trace of anger in his eyes. Instead, they're dark with something else entirely— something that makes your stomach flip.

He licks his lips, a slow, deliberate motion, and then he laughs, a low, throaty sound that sends shivers down your spine. A clear hand print grows steadily, red and angry on his cheek. "Fuck." he breathes, his hazy eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your breath catch in your throat.

You’re stuck staring at each other for what feels like hours, the music and chatter from the party reduced down to a low hum as you’re caught under Patrick’s heavy gaze.

He drops his beer bottle on the floor carelessly, hand shooting out to grab your wrist tightly and drag you away from the living room. Your cup falls from your grip, splashing down onto the hardwood in a red sticky mess. You fall into step behind him, letting him guide you into the hallway outside the living room before he lurches to a stop in front of a closed door, ripping it open and shoving you inside. Patrick follows quickly, closing the door behind him and bathing the coat closet in darkness.

It’s a tiny closet, you’re pressed up against too many coats fighting for space on the tiny rack, kicking loose shoes around as you try to find your footing. “Patrick, I–” You start, but you're cut off by a strong hand gripping your forearm and whipping you around. Your back hits the door with a dull thud, you don’t have any time to react before his lips are on yours.

The kiss is the opposite of gentle, Patrick’s lips are almost violent as they move with yours. Your hands tangle in his soft hair, kissing back just as roughly. He hisses into your mouth as you twist the strands in your grip meanly, pressing you into the door harder. His tongue forces its way past your parted lips, claiming your mouth fiercely. He tastes like beer, his fingertips are rough and calloused on your skin, pulling you closer as if he wants to meld into you.

“If you don’t want this, say the word and I’ll stop right now.” He says against your lips, breathless and rumbly. His hands squeeze your hips reassuringly, his own version of sincerity softening the moment.

Yeah fucking right.

“Zweig,” you say slowly, yanking his hair roughly. “If you don’t shut up and fuck me in the next ten seconds, I’ll kill you.”

Patrick grins wildly, surging forward to connect your lips again. Your hands find the buttons of his shirt as the two of you kiss, working them open one by one until you get too frustrated and rip the two half-open sides apart. Buttons clatter onto the floor of the closet, Patrick groans into your mouth, breaking the kiss with a huff. “I liked that shirt, dick. You owe me twenty bucks.”

You’re not listening, eyes trained on the bare skin of his chest as everything seems to slow down for a second. Of course, you’ve seen Patrick shirtless before, when he’s on the court and it’s above ninety or when he’s taking up space in Art’s dorm. This feels different, a completely new situation where it’s actually okay for you to stare at the expanse of his torso.

You can’t help reaching out to touch him again— running your greedy hands down his chest, his abs, the sharp ‘v’ cut of his hips that makes its way into the waistband of his shorts. Your manicured nails scratch through the dark hair of his happy trail, you can see the muscles in his stomach jump.

“Fuck,” you whisper breathlessly and immediately regret it. He was already insufferable— all you fucking needed was for him to know how you felt right now. How the sight of his barely undressed body is making your pussy soak through your panties.

Patrick doesn’t even gloat, just uses his tight grip on your hips to flip you so you’re pressing onto the door harshly. He impatiently yanks the skirt of your dress up, wasting no time in hooking a finger on the lace of your panties and moving the fabric to the side for easier access.

You hear him pop the button of his shorts open, his zipper following close behind. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this.” He says, sliding the thick tip of his cock through your slick lips, brushing himself against your entrance teasingly. “I’m gonna make you think twice about bitching me out ever again.” He seals his promise by grabbing your hair and yanking, causing a surprised whine to fall from your lips. His voice is so patronizing, but you aren’t getting mad like you should be. You’re just getting wetter, getting desperate with the need for him to get inside you right fucking now.

You grit your teeth in frustration, exhaling sharply through your nose. “I hate you.” You hiss, grinding back against his hard cock. You gasp raggedly as he starts to sink himself inside you, not stopping until his hips are flush against your ass. “Shit!” Your hands grip the door so hard you’re scared one of your nails will break. The stretch of him burns in the best way possible. You’d never say it out loud, not wanting to inflate his ego anymore than you probably already have, but he’s definitely the biggest cock you’ve taken. Almost porn-star big.

“I know.” He replies easily, hiking your thigh up with his hand as his hips start to pound mercilessly into the meat of your ass, not even giving you time to get used to the thick stretch of him. The loud smack of skin on skin fills the tiny closet easily, you hope to God the amount of clothes shoved in here somehow muffles the sound. The rough denim of his shorts scratches against your raw skin, adding to the sting of his hips.

Patrick was pounding into you in a way that makes you feel every inch of him. His cock felt impossibly big, filling you up like he was carving a place for himself inside of you. The sting in your pussy at the stretch of him is mind-numbing, you think you’d collapse from how hard your thighs were shaking if he wasn’t practically holding you up.

His big hand grips the sensitive skin of your inner thigh hard enough that it’ll probably be bruised by tomorrow. You distantly hope he’s high up enough that your tennis skirt will cover it, because if not it’ll be a hard thing to talk your way out of.

You throw your head back, a strained moan erupting from your lips. Your nails scratch at the paint on the door's edges, raking small lines down the wall. The loud squelch of your pussy’s overflowing wetness every time he sinks back inside you would be embarrassing if you had the mental capacity to care.

“Fuck yeah, keep making those slutty sounds, baby. Want the whole fucking party to hear how good I’m making you feel on this cock,” he mutters, hiking your leg up higher so he can pound into you deeper.

He drops your thigh, sliding his hand up your body and around your throat. You whine loudly, pushing back into his thrusts harder. Guys have tried the choking thing in the past, but Patrick’s hand is the only one that’s felt right. His long fingers curling around your throat like they belong there.

“Shit, fuck- don’t stop.” you mewl, lips parted in ecstasy. His hand squeezes a little tighter, not enough to cut off your breathing, just enough to get your eyes rolling back into your head as your pussy weeps around the thick length of his cock.

“That’s it, taking my fucking cock like you were made for it,” Patrick grates through a groan, gripping your hips and pulling out from your tight hole to spit on where his cock bumps up against your entrance before plunging back in. You jolt at the extra wetness, whining at how dirty it is. “So fucking tight— does it hurt, baby?” he asks in a barely breathless voice, laughter edging his tone. “Is my fat cock hurting your tight little pussy?”

“God– shit, yes!” you sob loudly, cheek rubbing against the wood of the door as you nod your head frantically. “Hurts so fucking good.” You stop caring about inflating his ego, letting moans fall freely from your lips as you get closer to the edge.

“Fuck yeah, I’m gonna come,” he grunts, his rhythm growing sloppy and erratic as his muscles tense. He wraps your hair in his other hand, pulling hard enough to make your neck crane back awkwardly. He leans forward, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “I can feel you, fucking clenching up on me so tight,” he whispers, still pounding into you roughly. “I know you’re close. Do it. Come all over my cock like a slut.”

Patrick's hand tightens around your throat as he talks, cutting off your air for just a second. “Patrick!” Your voice sounds weak and strained, your hand coming up to wrap around his wrist desperately.

He pulls out abruptly, dropping your hair from his fist to frantically jerk his cock, burying his face in your neck. You can hear the lewd shlick shlick shlick of your wetness help his hand glide over the skin of his cock quickly. Patrick lets out a loud growl before you feel the sharp bite of his teeth sinking in where your shoulder meets your neck, muffling a loud groan of your name as he sprays hot come over the skin of your lower back and the swell of your ass.

The feeling of Patrick’s hand wrapped around your throat as his come paints your skin has you catapulting over the edge. Eyes rolling back in your head as your convulsing pussy gushes wet over his spent cock.

You drag in greedy lungfuls of air, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. “You came first.” You say breathlessly, voice scratchy and hushed. Patrick chuckles against your skin, swatting the tender flesh of your ass lightly.

“Shut the fuck up.” He mutters half-heartedly, nuzzling his nose in your neck in a way that seems far too intimate for what the two of you just did. You don’t say anything.

Patrick eventually peels himself off your back, but the warmth of his body stays wrapped around you as he starts to gently wipe your skin clean. You’re ready to scold him for using some poor guy's coat as a come-rag, but when you turn your head to glare at him he’s using the inside of his own shirt. You wrinkle your nose, but a tiny smile fights its way onto your lips. So gross, you think with a sort of reluctant fondness.

He leans over to fix your panties back over your puffy, abused pussy. Your thighs continue to shake weakly as you try to stand on your own, still unsteady without Patrick holding you up. He gives you a sweet kiss on the back of your shoulder, smacking his lips loudly. You huff out a tiny laugh, pushing away from the door to face him.

You watch him as he languidly gets re-dressed. He looks well-fucked, his hair and clothes are mess, his face is flushed and sweaty. Your eyes trail down to where he’s buttoning up his atrocious shorts.

The fabric around the crotch is darkened with your release, wetness soaking the denim around the zipper and front pockets. You gawk at it, a mix of terror and excitement swirling through your stomach. “You can’t go back out like that.” you say to his shorts, shame burning your cheeks.

Patrick follows your gaze down to his crotch. A pleased smirk plays on his lips when he looks back at you. “I’ll text you later.” Is all he says, zipping his fly and turning towards the door.

“You don’t have my number.” You say, tugging the skirt of your dress down over your hips. You can slowly feel the horny fog leave your brain, leaving you clear-minded and a little panicked.

He cracks the door open, but before walking out of the closet he looks back at you over his shoulder. “Art’ll give me your number. “ He says casually with a small shrug of his shoulder. You suddenly feel sick, wondering how many other people have heard that line before getting completely ghosted.

Patrick must see the negative thoughts running through your mind play out on your face. He gives you an actual smile, one that has his eyes crinkling up the tiniest bit at the corners. “Promise.” He says with a reassuring nod, it’s the most sincere you’ve ever seen him. You bite your lip to stop from smiling at the hope blooming in your stomach, nodding back at him slowly. He throws you one last toothy grin before he’s walking out and closing the door behind him.

You sigh contently, staring at the closed door for a few beats before your phone buzzes to life from where it's laying on the floor. You bend over to search for it, blindly rooting around until you see the tiny display light. The ringing stops before you can answer, when you flip the screen up to check your inbox you have seven missed texts and two missed calls.

Four texts and two calls from Art, and just three texts from Tashi.

arty where are you? i’ve been looking for you are you okay? hello???

tash you know you're not invisible right? everyone saw your little show have fun <3

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

mini a/n: yes i did change the title leave me lmao love you!

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arklay · 17 days ago

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a lesson in temperance.

pairing: diana afanasyeva x alex wesker words: 6.5k warnings: nsfw, mild degradation [read on ao3]

Vanilla and orange blossom. So heady, so sweet, as it swam out of the bathroom and filled the air surrounding Alex. She couldn’t help but breathe it in, wishing to be closer to the cause, to really smell all that lived on her partner’s skin; where jasmine thrived on her neck, down her chest and to her wrists, laced with gardenia and sandalwood.

Alex hummed to herself, directing her mind back on task when the loud whir of the hairdryer ripped her from her thoughts. She leaned down and plucked a small box from the back of her bedside drawer.

Wrapped in a pale blue silk ribbon, the little black box contained a surprise for only one other set of eyes to see, and that made her shiver in anticipation. She could already imagine the look she would receive. An amused laugh, or a pointed glare. Perhaps both. And that only served to encourage her plan for the day.

In only a few strides she stood before the bathroom, eyes landing on Diana clad only in a towel with the cause of that incessant noise in one hand and a comically large round brush in the other. So focused she was in tackling the thick, dark strands, it was as if Alex didn’t exist. Only when the blonde chuckled, low and velvety, did her eyes dart over to the doorway, and not a second later, the press of a button granted them silence.

Diana lowered the hairdryer and brush, discarding them on the counter as her eyes roamed over Alex. From the smug smirk painted on red lips, to the small box cradled in adorned fingers, she could only wonder what her partner was up to this time.

“Do I want to know what that is?” she asked, the jest hardly hiding the curiosity that clung to it.

Alex let out another rich, breathy sound, rounding the apples of her cheeks. The raised brow and inquisitive stare was already a reward in and of itself for her. But not enough.

She walked into the stifling room – no matter how many times she told Diana to turn on the fan, she never would – and closed the distance between them. Then, her forefinger began a slow, methodical trace of the top edge of the box, drawing Diana’s gaze for but a moment.

“You didn’t really think I would forget about last night, did you?” That earned a dramatic roll of blue eyes, followed by an amused grin. One that deepened the indents on her cheeks so deliciously. But she didn’t speak, only locking her eyes onto Alex’s and letting her continue. “Punishment is in order.”

“Can’t win your forgiveness through your stomach anymore, can I?”

Alex pursed her lips, drawing her brows inward in a look of mock sympathy. Then she lazily shook her head. “No.”

The breakfast she had made her was quite sweet, but it didn’t make up for the fact that Diana had come last night before Alex had given her permission to. She had been far too lenient in the past it seemed, because this behaviour only appeared to continue. Although, it did bring about a warm glow beneath Alex’s breast at how much Diana got off on pleasing her.

With her partner’s attention drawn so close, hanging on in anticipation, Alex closed two fingers around the ribbon to direct her gaze. A gentle pull and it came free. Yet she lingered, grasping the lid and doing no more, and Diana’s eyes raised to meet hers. It was almost desperate, the look in them. How much she wished to know exactly what was in store for her.

She finally opened the box. Letting the lid sit back on her palm, she plucked a bullet-shaped toy from pale blue satin. Diana wet her lips as she stared at the silver between her pinched fingers, and Alex turned it slightly. As if to show her more. As if Diana wasn’t already well aware of what it was.

“You, my sweet,” Alex drawled in velvet, smooth enough to make Diana almost drop to her knees right then and there, “are going to wear this all day for me.” At the flutter of dark lashes over half-lidded eyes, she leaned in closer and lowered her voice even more. “And… you are not allowed to come.”

The sharp inhale told Alex all she needed to know.

When Diana leaned back on one hip and crossed her arms, it did little to hide the effect she had on her. Even with the teasing smile pulling at her lips, the promise of challenge, arousal warmed porcelain cheeks and reduced blue to barely a thin line around blown pupils.

And yet Diana still raised a brow in defiance. “And if I do?”

Alex let out a heavy sigh. “I asked myself that many times. What should I do if you were to once again disobey me?” She tilted her head slightly to the side, clicking her tongue. “Would I procure a chastity belt, of all things? Would I confiscate all of your toys until further notice?” Diana shifted, opening her mouth as if to protest, but Alex only went on. “Would I have you scrub the place top to bottom? But no. None of that would suffice.” She closed her eyes and took a deep inhale, before releasing. “For a whole month, you will not be permitted to touch me. In any form.”

A loud laugh of disbelief left Diana as she threw her head back. Thinking it a joke was her first mistake; Alex’s eyes narrowed and her jaw set, emphasising the sincerity in her claim. That seemed to do it.

Diana lifted one of her crossed arms and scratched above her lip, looking down her nose as she seemed to be processing the severity of such a punishment. Then, she abruptly extended said arm and held out her hand in acceptance, meeting Alex’s gaze once more. “A month is absurd.”

Never one to back down, her Diana.

Alex let a soft smile pull on her lips, not quite an apology for the past harshness of her tone, and she placed the bullet in her partner’s palm. Her lashes fluttered again at the brush of Alex’s fingertips against her soft skin, but she regained herself just as quickly.

“Well then, you should start being more grateful and less greedy.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Diana replied while rolling the bullet up to the tips of her fingers.

One hand brought the silver to her lips, while the other parted her towel, and Alex found herself rather conflicted in where to direct her attention. Ultimately, her gaze settled on Diana’s face when the hand at her hip did no more than rest at the opening she created. Wet, rosy lips parted then ever so slowly closed around the toy. She still held onto the end with her fingertips. Alex watched as her cheeks hollowed while her tongue swirled, and she couldn’t prevent the warmth blooming at her hips even if she tried.

Her gaze wandered from her lips to her jaw, then down the elegant column of her throat. A droplet sat in the dip between her collarbones. Countless others littered her chest, but one took Alex’s attention more than the rest. It rolled down damp skin at a tantalisingly slow pace, until its journey was interrupted by the towel at her breast.

The movement of Diana’s arm brought her back to her senses, though she did find herself wishing to lean in and kiss over the peak that bobbed as Diana swallowed. Or lick the droplets from her skin. But all that followed was her lover’s hand lowering to the part in her towel before she slipped the toy easily inside herself.

Their eyes met again, and Alex offered a pleased smile her way. She all but purred, “Good girl.”

Her own hand disappeared into her pocket, and she pulled out a device not too dissimilar to her phone. One of Diana’s brows quirked at that. It wasn’t the typical remote control she was used to seeing in her past, and little did she know Alex had far more freedom with one such as this.

“I’ll be able to monitor your pleasure at all times with this,” she said, barely flashing the screen her way so Diana could take a look while she ensured the toy was connected. Satisfied, a rather wicked curl pulled at the corner of crimson lips. “Do remember, I will know if you’ve taken it out. And that will warrant further consequences.”

Diana gave her a slow nod, long past accepting what was to come, and opened her mouth to speak, but Alex had already turned on her heel, pocketed the device and left the bathroom. She could only laugh to herself at that, the notion that anything she had to say, or do, was all but irrelevant.

Not even a kiss this morning.

It was already past lunch and Diana had been at the edge of her seat all morning, wondering – waiting for – when Alex would turn the vibrator on. The possibility that she had forgotten about it altogether, swept up in her work, or by some new problem one of the researchers had brought to her attention, was entirely out of the question.

Diana knew the only explanation was that Alex wanted this.

She wanted her to sweat a little. To grow restless. To wait for the other shoe to drop and wish to be free of such suspense. That, in itself, was as much a punishment as what was truly in store for her.

And it worked.

For the third time in this report alone, Diana crossed out what she was in the middle of writing. More like violently scribbled over, in this instance; her pent-up frustration pressed the pen harder and carried the strike over innocent sentences, free of mistakes. Whether it was her cadence, a misspelt word, or merely a letter looking wrong, Diana was finding it increasingly difficult to keep her head.

With a heavy sigh, she freed the paper from her clipboard and crumbled it up into a ball, merely discarding it beside herself. It was ridiculous she was letting this get under her skin so much. Maybe she had been too eager for the challenge, holding herself to such high standards in wanting to prove Alex wrong – that she wouldn’t break from a little toy. But she had not accounted for this.

Diana brought a new sheet before her and slotted it into position. All of a sudden, the toy came to life. Her fingers fell free of the clip, letting it snap, and her mouth hung open of its own accord. The slow, rhythmic pulse was actually relieving.

Her eyes fluttered shut as she sank into her chair, pressing her thighs together on instinct. She would get back to their little game in a moment, but for now… For now, she needed to feel it.

It wasn’t one of her wisest decisions. Her mind wandered back to that morning, to the feeling of Alex’s hot breath on her skin when she whispered in her ear; the way she had purred praise sent a shiver down Diana’s spine, tingling across every nerve and stoking the warmth at its base. A hand lifted, found its way to her chest and simply lay there, fingertips either side of her neck, ghosting over the spot her lover had teased.

The pulse between her legs switched to a soft continuous vibration, pulling her back to the present. A slow exhale escaped parted lips.

If she truly wanted to get through this, she had to find some semblance of focus. There were actual stakes this time around. If that lack of a kiss before work was a taste of what she was in for, for an entire month, she might just lose her mind.

They may have spent long stretches of time away from one another in the past, on opposite ends of the globe, but that would be nothing compared to this. To live with Alex, to see her, and smell her, day in, day out, and not be able to do so much as press against her… To have to sleep beside her and stop their legs from brushing, pass her in the bathroom or the kitchen and not catch her hand or lean in for a kiss. That was torture.

She could get through this stupid little test. Or else a pillow wall may have to be built. Even worse, she would sleep on the couch and avoid her partner until one of them cracked.

Deep breaths, Diana. Slow, deep breaths.

It was much easier to try and ignore the toy nestled inside her with this setting. Diana was determined to show Alex that not only could she control herself, but she would excel in her work while at it. The discarded report was rewritten and completed, with not a flaw in sight. Not even the couple of times Alex had switched back to the gentle pulsing could put an end to that. She proofread it, not once, but twice, and analysed her next set of data from another experiment. It was, in all honesty, a rather remarkable motivator. Maybe it wouldn’t be so hard to keep her composure.

Or so she thought.

Diana swivelled around in her chair to reach for the stack of papers on the bench behind her when the toy doubled in speed, causing her to jolt in her seat. A breathy little chuckle escaped her, a result of such surprise. Then she blew out a long exhale, longing for composure. Warmth bloomed deep within her core, and she had to fight the urge to let her eyes fall shut. Doing so would only sabotage herself, and amuse Alex in the process.

And she really wasn’t about to let that happen. Diana glanced up at the camera in the corner of the room, knowing full well that Alex was watching her every move. She picked up the stack of papers, turned right around, and dumped them on her desk rather unceremoniously.

In direct response, the toy picked up speed again. Her thighs clenched together as she shifted in her seat, and that only made it worse; the bullet pressed right up against that sweet spot within her. No longer a benign teasing, the buzzing was insistent. Relentless. Diana meant to reach for the edge of her desk to steady herself, but shaky hands fumbled and found knees instead. It felt as if someone had lit a fire under her skin, making her flush head to toe. Somehow, she forgot how easily these things could send her into such a state.

She needed to do something, anything, to distract herself from the feeling. Focusing her leaden gaze on her hands, she shifted them slightly higher, settling firmly on her thighs for better leverage. Then she sunk her nails into nylon-clad flesh.

Mistake. That was a mistake.

Sparks shot up her thighs and to her hips, joining the vibrations, and she almost doubled over. What in the world possessed her to do such an idiotic thing? Of course the sting of her nails would only fuel her pleasure, not offer the distracting sensation she’d intended; she was better off stubbing a toe.

Her heart had only quickened, pounding at its cage as if begging her to let the pleasure wash over her. But she wasn’t going to give in. To do so would grant Alex the satisfaction she was looking for. In Diana’s mind, the consequence of her succumbing to her desires wouldn’t benefit Alex in any way either. A whole month without being loved on? What a miserable rule to set for oneself. But Diana knew it was merely a slight against her; she was tactile with lovers, it wasn’t her fault. A hand on a hip when she passed by, on an arm when she spoke. It was the little things Alex knew she could catch her on.

Diana dropped her hands to her sides and let her head fall back against the headrest of her chair. It was time for a different approach. She stared up at the ceiling and tried to focus on counting the number of metal bars making up the ventilation panels. It shouldn’t have been difficult, it was a simple task, yet she lost count and had to start over multiple times; the buzz of the fluorescent lights behind her kept stealing her attention, telling her to pay mind to the one between her legs.

She may have underestimated her capacity for restraint.

As though taking pity on her plight, the toy changed patterns once more. Back to that soft, sweet pulsing. It was so jarring compared to the torment she just endured, Diana couldn’t help the grin that stretched across her face as she buried her head in her hands.

Then the phone started to ring.

Could she not catch even one moment of peace today? Diana raised her head enough to catch sight of the phone on her desk, simply staring at the offending device and watching the light blink as someone tried to reach her. She let it ring.

The pulse between her legs sped up, informing her who was on the line, and she rolled her eyes much too dramatically. Reaching forward at the last possible moment, she lifted the receiver off the hook and brought it to her ear. “This is Diana speaking.”

A low chuckle sounded on the other end, stoking embers. “What’s the matter, darling? You sound quite frustrated.”

“Oh, shut up,” Diana replied indignantly. She secured the handset on her shoulder, holding it with her cheek, and gathered the papers still sitting on her desk. Needing to keep her hands occupied, lest they wander elsewhere with that voice in her ear. “I’m busy. Is there something you wanted?”

Alex sighed, and Diana heard a loud bang from somewhere behind her, followed by an unsteady rattle, like metal-on-metal. A trolley being wheeled off, most likely. Alex cleared her throat once it was almost out of earshot. “You’re needed in the Upper Spire.”

For what possible reason? The highest point of the Monument was still under construction; there was nothing of value up there that would require her assistance. Unless Alex was going to turn around and demand she pick up a toolbox and get to work. They both knew that was never going to happen.

Diana took hold of the phone again, then switched it over to the other ear. “Did I not just tell you that I am in the middle of something?”

“It wasn’t a request,” Alex bit back. Her voice slipped into one that radiated sheer power; it could so easily bring someone to their knees. It had, many times for Diana, as well-acquainted as she was with such a tone in their bedroom. The hairs on her arms and the back of her neck bristled with the shiver that coursed through her, all while the toy still pulsed within. “Now, hurry along. You can finish sorting your paperwork later.”

The little mocking remark she threw in there managed to break Diana free of her spell. She thought it only fair to respond in kind. “Yes, ma’am.”

Without waiting for any further comment, she lowered the phone from her ear and moved to hang up. But again, she was stopped in her tracks.

“Diana,” Alex called, beckoning her to crawl right back to her. And she did, bringing the handset up to its former position in a rather lazy fashion. “Watch your tone.”

With not even a second to possibly respond, Diana was met with a click then nothing more. Dead air. It was at times like this she was convinced she had fallen madly in love with the Devil herself. Though she was not without mercy it would seem; the vibrator lowered back down to that soft, persistent hum and brought with it relief.

The journey to the Upper Spire wasn’t necessarily a long one from where she worked – if she discounted the elevator ride, that is. But Diana would still need to brave a rather lengthy flight of stairs. In frustration, she threw her head back against her headrest a couple of times, then abruptly stood. The papers remained on her desk, a filing cabinet drawer was left ajar, only her handbag was forcibly removed and the door locked behind her.

Once she was but a few steps down the hall, the toy sped up again. It wasn’t unbearable, no, but it did challenge her to keep her balance as she walked. One wrong shift of her hips and she might just send the bullet pressing against a spot that would not hold back from making her legs tremble. That didn’t change the fact that she could already feel a bead of sweat threatening to roll down her back.

Diana let her feet carry her towards her destination, the world around her fading away in a blur of bright lights and dull greys as she passed through winding walkways and platforms, not even registering how many turns she’d made. All her focus was on putting one foot in front of the other and hoping she’d end up where she needed to be. And trying desperately to ignore the constant vibration in her hips.

It felt so much louder now and she wasn’t sure that was possible. The hissing of doors sliding open for her, the humming and beeping of machinery, the clicking of her heels with each stride was all but amplified by the pounding in her ears, resounding from the toy in her core. Was it always this noisy? Every time there was a new sound thrown into the mix, it sent her heart racing, so fast she could feel it in her fingertips. She truly thought walking was going to be much easier to deal with than sitting in her lab, but this was a new type of hell.

Then there was the case of the stairs.

Deep breaths, Diana reminded herself from where she stood on the landing. She could do this. The effort of her journey left her flushed and weary, but not any less determined to reach her goal. The elevator was so close she could see it, sitting in the centre of the open room; her only obstacle was but a flight of stairs.

She reached out and laid a hand on the railing, fumbling as the cool metal sent another shock through her system. Diana clenched her teeth and held it firmer, steadying herself before she could topple over. Then she began her descent.

One step at a time. That’s all there was to it, no different than any other day. She just had to get out of her head, focus on where her feet landed, and not on that dogged assault on her nerves. With another shaky breath, Diana lowered her eyes to make sure she didn’t miss a step with how unsteady she was, how heavy her legs felt with each footfall. The last thing she needed was to slip and make a fool of herself.

If she did fall, she hoped it would bring about a swift end and let her escape this torment.

Halfway down the stairs, a flicker of movement danced at the corner of Diana’s eye. Her gaze darted over to follow the blur over the railing only to see Stuart, Alex’s loyal little servant, rounding the side of the staircase.

Don’t come this way, she pleaded, voiceless, hoping he wouldn’t notice her and simply carry on with his day. The last thing she needed was to speak to anyone in this state.

But Stuart, the ever so irritating Stuart, sporting his finely-tailored suit and rectangular rimless glasses, seemed to be heading right where she had come from. Luckily, he seemed to be in a hurry, taking two steps at a time, so he shouldn’t bother her for long. But she knew him well enough. The man could talk up a storm if you let him. Just keep going.

“Oh! I didn’t see you there,” he exclaimed, followed by a slight bow of his head. The toy ramped up in intensity and stole the breath from Diana’s lungs. To try and stifle a whimper, she bit down on her lip hard enough she thought she might draw blood, and Stuart paused. He let his eyes scan over her, from her face down to her white-knuckled grip on the railing. “Are you alright, Dr. Afa—”

“Fine,” Diana snapped. She wasn’t even able to take a full breath, her words coming out rushed. “I’m fine. Thank you, Stewart.”

She left him standing there, bewildered, as her need to get as far away from him as possible carried her down the rest of the dreadful staircase unharmed. She didn’t know if he’d heard the buzzing of the toy, she hadn’t bothered to take in his expression at all, really. Maybe she was just imagining the vibrator louder than it actually was, or maybe the thrumming of machinery echoing off the endlessly tall walls of the tower saved her an awkward conversation.

The walk to the elevator wasn’t far once she hopped off that final step. The doors opened automatically for her upon her approach and she practically fell into the safe haven of steel.

With a slam of a fist against a button, she was off. Diana let herself sink against the wall, dropping her bag from her shoulder and resting trembling hands on her knees. She couldn’t even get a moment of reprieve; the insistent teasing between her legs wouldn’t subside any time soon.

The way warmth built in her core, radiating across her hips and threatening to rush down her legs to curl her toes, had her biting back a moan. She took slow, deep breaths, trying to focus on calming her heart as opposed to how blissful the waves of pleasure felt. She couldn’t let herself unravel. Not here, not now.

Diana gripped the handrail beside her and turned, resting the side of her head against the wall. The coil in her belly only wound tighter, and she cursed Alex. Cursed her for playing with her like this, for watching her struggle on every camera she passed, for pressing all those stupid little buttons that left her shaking and longing for air. But truly, she cursed herself; she was the only one to blame. Why did she ever agree to this?

She needed to breathe.

With each slow inhale, and exhale, the twist in her belly began to recede, pulling her from the haze. It did nothing, however, for the shake of her hands, the heavy feeling in her limbs, or how aware she was of her blouse brushing against her chest with each rise and fall.

It was the elevator’s turn to catch her cursing. Just as she was about to question how long it was taking to reach the Upper Spire, the lift jerked and shuddered, before coming to a halt.

“Oh, fuck,” Diana whispered under her breath. The rumble that sent through her did nothing to help the state she was in.

She aimlessly reached around for her bag, not wanting to look down in fear she might lose her balance. Finding leather under her palm, she hoisted it up and onto her shoulder. She would be fine. Her hips ached as she lifted herself to stand up straight, using the handrail as leverage. One last rest against the wall, one last moment, then she would be on her way. Then she would face Alex and try not to fall apart at her feet.

Just beyond another walkway, then she could hopefully sit again. Somehow that was much easier to handle.

The clicking of her heels was a welcome sound, distracting her from the heat simmering in her belly. She didn’t dare look over the edge of the railing along the walkway either – another thing she wished to push to the back of her mind; she was so high up, one wrong step and that was the end of her.

A foolish thing to think about given what she was dealing with right now.

After a short walk, the hiss of a door granted her access to the area Alex had been fussing over for months. Wanting to get it perfect, she said.

Odd, considering the large room Diana entered was completely bare. And dark. The only thing she could make out was maybe some type of stand near the far end of the room. Alex hadn’t exactly divulged what she was planning to do up here, other than having her own personal laboratory.

Off to the side, cool white light emanated from an open door. The only clue she had to go on as to Alex’s whereabouts. She ventured forth, then, as another set of stairs came into view, audibly groaned.

After today she might just develop a personal vendetta against staircases.

The stairwell was interesting, to say the least. The overhead light did not offer much in way of brightening the room, but rather, it was the individual strips set into each step, along with the columns in the corners of the room. Not four, as expected, but rather six. What really caught her attention though was the latticework in the centre of the stairs, much like that of the supports surrounding the elevator.

Diana steeled herself and, once again, focused on putting one foot in front of the other, watching her feet the entire way up the two flights of stairs. It wasn’t any easier than her trip to the lift, but she couldn’t allow herself a moment to falter. Even as the toy shifted with each step, the railing remained her lifeline.

Once she reached the landing, the door slid open for her before she even had a chance to catch her breath. This time, revealing a sparsely furnished bedroom. But Diana did not care much to look around; her eyes settled on the source of her anguish. Sitting on a black leather couch was Alex, dressed in white and gold, with wine red at her feet. Her attention was on the wall opposite her, and Diana glanced over to see a large screen, filled with camera feeds. That didn’t surprise her in the slightest.

Alex looked toward the door, and a smirk threatened to pull at the corner of her lips. She stood, turning the monitor off with a remote in the process, before tossing it aside. “Ah, there you are.”

As if a puppet on a string, not quite in control of her own limbs, Diana made her way over to Alex. Whenever she was near, there was a certain pull to her, always drawing Diana in. The need to hold her, to touch her in some way and breathe her in, was a constant. That is why she couldn’t afford to misbehave this time around; the stakes were too high. Or else, she would’ve chased her release just to spite her lover and get a rise.

Her handbag was taken from her by cold, gentle hands, discarded on the coffee table at her side, while Alex’s eyes were busy slowly scanning over her form. She hummed. “Stuart just called. He was quite concerned, honestly. Said you looked rather unwell.”

Diana glared up at her. She wasn’t that much taller than her, and yet she felt larger than life itself. The way she spoke only added to that; there was no denying the smug air that clung to each of her words. She was so proud of herself for humiliating Diana in such a way, making her look a fool in front of her staff when she was only ever composed.

“Yes, well, I wonder why,” she said through clenched teeth.

A melodic little laugh spilled from her partner’s lips and tugged at her heart. “Look at you… So cute when you’re all riled up.”

Diana held her gaze, wanting so desperately to remain annoyed with her. To show her she wasn’t amused with her antics. But her body betrayed her, unable to focus on such trivial things with a more pressing matter between her legs. Lips pulled in a warm smile, one she tried and failed to hide, and the heat in her hips rushed up to her chest.

Alex never took her eyes off of hers, not helping in the slightest. There was so much warmth in those icy blues of hers it almost made Diana dizzy. She had to be the first to look away.

Letting her gaze wander around the clearly unfinished room, she cleared her throat. Well aware of the fact that Alex was still staring at her. “What was it you needed me for?”

“Oh, it’s not ready yet,” she said, sounding almost disinterested, and Diana’s head snapped to look back at her. Alex gestured vaguely at her side with a sigh. “It won’t be for many months yet. I still need all of my equipment brought up here, and well… It is looking rather drab, as you can see.”

“You’re telling me I walked all of those stairs, and took the longest elevator ride of my life, for nothing?!”

“Nothing?” Alex brought a hand to her chest in mock outrage, drawing her brows in a frown. “Did you not wish to see me?”

Of course she wished to see her. She always wished to see her. One of the many side effects of having found your match. But in Diana’s current state, that had been the least of her concerns. It was near impossible to stave off the longing in her core with her so near.

Pent-up frustration trickled over and dripped from every word. “I cannot believe you.”

Diana brought her hands up to cover her face, the tips of her fingers carving along the curve of her brow bone. Her skin was so hot, she wouldn’t be surprised if she was flushed pink up to her ears. The toy sitting pretty inside her hummed away, more of an annoyance than anything at this point. Or maybe she was just annoyed, full stop. But she was so high-strung, she couldn’t deal with these little games anymore.

A shaky breath left parted lips, then a soft tsk reached her ears.

The intoxicating smell of Alex’s perfume swept over her senses before touch even registered. Woody, spiced, rich with amber and musk – a hint of plum lingering. Diana couldn’t help herself but lean into her lover’s touch, to drink in all that flowed from her wrist. Fingertips danced across her temple, causing her hands to fall from her face as she looked up at Alex again. Her head was tilted ever so slightly as her eyes followed the path she traced along Diana’s hairline.

“I’m impressed,” Alex admitted, then tucked a strand behind Diana’s ear. “I thought for certain, in the lift, away from all but my eyes to see, you would”—her fingers trailed down the side of her neck—“take care of yourself.”

Her touch was exhilarating, addicting even, sending a pleasant shiver down Diana’s spine to reignite the pleasure. When her fingers reversed the motion, letting nails scrape along her skin, her legs almost buckled beneath her.

Then Alex cupped her cheek. She leaned in and whispered against Diana’s lips, “You’ve done so well. But can you keep it up?”

Too entranced, Diana had missed when Alex pulled the remote from her pocket with her other hand. A quick tap and the toy sped up even more, knocking the air from her lungs. This had to be the highest setting; there was no way it could get any worse than this. Warmth rushed from deep within her core, over her hips and up into her chest. It was stifling.

There was nowhere she could grasp onto for support now, save for the woman before her. Her hands found Alex’s sides, gripping her blazer before she could even think about what she’d done. But Alex didn’t seem to mind. It was when she hung her head that Alex suddenly gripped her chin, tilting it back with force to look into her eyes.

“Do you think you can last?” She all but purred, her breath hot on parted lips. Diana was well and truly at her mercy now; waves of pleasure rolled over her, pulling her from her surroundings in a lust-addled haze. Yet she still managed to lazily nod in her grip.

Alex hummed then slotted a thigh between trembling legs, causing a soft whimper to spill from Diana’s lips. Though it offered support, it pressed too sweet, too deliciously. She didn’t know how long she could fight off her oncoming climax at this rate.

“Really? The greedy little slut you are…” She applied more pressure with her thigh, drawing a choked sob. “You’re not going to come?”

“No,” Diana said with firmness she didn’t even know she could muster, even if it wavered in the end.

The chuckle that followed barely registered. Her heart was beating so loud she could hear it in her ears, feel it throughout her entire body. It drowned out every other noise. The grin that pulled on crimson lips as Alex gripped her chin even harder sent molten sparks across her skin. The coil in her belly wound impossibly tight, begging for release, and it hurt. Oh, it hurt.

Diana shuddered in her lover’s arms, eyes fluttering shut. The toy continued its relentless pace against that sweet spot within her, a low whine built in her throat. She didn’t know how much longer she could handle of this. She blew out a long exhale, trying to halt her panting, but her breaths only came faster.

Stars began to form behind her eyes, signalling her impending release, and she couldn’t even fight it anymore.

Then it stopped. The buzzing stopped altogether. So abrupt, it drew a loud gasp and she fell against Alex. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, clouding her vision even further, and she had no idea whether she was crying from relief or frustration. She was so close, teetering right on the edge, only to have it ripped away from her.

“Shh,” Alex shushed her, then wrapped her arms around Diana. She carefully lowered her onto the couch, pressed up against her side. Then she smoothed back her hair. “Very good, my sweet girl. Have a rest.”

Diana buried her face in the crook of Alex’s neck, trying desperately to calm her breathing. Despite the toy no longer teasing, the throbbing between her legs persisted. Longing for more.

She had no doubt Alex knew how close she had gotten to failing, to suffering the consequences. But the absence of any scolding let her melt against her partner, wrapping her arm around her waist and taking in that sweet scent of hers once more. If this was the last time she was to hold her for a month, she wished to savour every second of it.

A soft kiss was pressed to the top of her head, yet the words that followed held no semblance of such tenderness.

“Do not think this means you’re forgiven. You still have the rest of the day ahead of you.”

#okay to rb & kudos appreciated ♡#writing.#pair: diana x alex #i suppose they'd get a tag now 🫣#oc: diana #setting: mid 2000s // not too much going on here plot-wise if i'm honest #it's diana's birthday today so i present you all with some old lady yuri heheheh #as i said in post the other day i have been playing around with them this year and i'm really liking it...#they originally started off as an au but oh...... i fear they may end up becoming canon at this rate #I KNOW...like. i know. i just feel like for me at least with both of their characters i can build such a stronger story #like there's so much in my head with them already and i haven't even set out a proper timeline or things like that #i just know their dynamic and backstories and just so much more in ways of little intricacies could fit so well with one another #rambling again but aughghg i love the ewskers i really really do but something about these two together has frazzled my brain #also the lesbianism took over and i had to write some sapphic girlies (i hc alex as lesbian <3 and diana is bi)#another thing...i think this is the only sort of topping alex would do if i'm honest. she's not eating or wearing the strap sorryyyy #remote control things only me thinks cause i see her as such a dom bottom. okay anyways <3

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