grace ashcroft x fem!reader
summary: your field partner is out of commission for the month, forcing you into a temporary partnership with the one woman who seems determined to freeze you out.
content: one bed trope, useless lesbians, smut, sub!grace ashcroft, dom!reader, fluff, forced proximity, praise kink, pet names, scissoring, oral sex, fingering, reader is so oblivious
The longer you spend on the road with Grace, the more tense the atmosphere in the car seems to grow.
Silence has stretched between you for the last couple of miles — a restless quiet that's weighed down by the case you two are working and all the uncertainty it leaves to broaden on the horizon. Every time your focus jolts away from the road to steal a glance at her, you find that her eyes are fixed firmly on the window. There hasn’t been a peep out of her since you crossed the state line and it’s sending your thoughts into overdrive.
God, your coworkers must have a betting pool centred around the two of you, or something. How else does this partnership make any sense?
Not that you have a problem with Grace — she's a good stand-in with your regular partner at home nursing an injury, and there's no denying that Grace is excellent at what she does! (You don't think you've ever met anyone quite as formidable with a keyboard and a stack of case files.)
It just... seems like she has a problem with you.
Things have always been inexplicably awkward between the two of you. Was it something you said? A joke that didn't land the first time you met? You have absolutely no idea — she just freezes up around you all the time and you don't know how to make things better.
On top of her skittish behaviour, all of your colleagues are well aware of this tension and tease you about it endlessly. Hell, your boss could only justify the pairing because he needed someone who could write a coherent report, and everyone else in your department seemed to be conveniently busy with their own investigations.
Whatever the case, Grace seemed to mentally check out an hour or two ago, content to give you the silent treatment and engage the passenger window in a staring contest. You wish you had some way to break the ice but she's giving you absolutely nothing to work with, so you resign yourself to the desolate quietude as well.
The motorway plunges into the purpling twilight. Evening has bled into the first peals of nighttime, freckled by pearly constellations that dance between the brushstrokes of blue. Though, nightfall lapses between the windscreen wipers as heavy droplets of rain roll in rivulets down the glass.
You squint through the downpour, tutting to yourself as the rain just seems to fog and smear across the windows. The visibility is hellish in this weather — you can make out the faint silhouette of oncoming traffic with their fluorescent headlights, but everything else is swallowed by the thickening mist.
In your peripheral vision, you swear Grace jumps slightly at the crack of thunder that splits the sky. Your lips part to say something comforting but you clamp them shut against your better judgement, deciding that you are probably the last person she needs to make her feel less nervous.
You swear under your breath as the rain drills down heavier against the windscreen. The wipers are barely coping, now. You begin to wonder how long you can keep driving in this storm before it becomes dangerous.
Her voice makes you startle. You risk a sidelong glance at her, clearing your throat and blinking the bleariness out of your eyes.
“The rain’s getting really bad,” Grace comments quietly, her voice barely audible above the music.
"Think we should stop somewhere for the night?" you ask. Oh, what you wouldn't give to sleep on a proper bed...
"Yeah, maybe," she says. "There's a couple of motels coming up." Grace tenses up, picking at her cuticles and avoiding eye contact as if your stare is scalding. "I— Er, if you want to. Totally up to you."
"Motel it is," you acquiesce.
You flick on your hazards and start vying for the next exit. Maybe putting some distance and a few hours of sleep between the two of you is for the best…
The motel isn't anything to write home about, yet after all the hours you've spent on the road it feels palatial.
It’s a small place with few vacancies (from the sudden storm, you suspect) and a disinterested receptionist with a passion for loudly chewing bubblegum. There’s a few potted plants, a vending machine that looks antagonistic enough to eat your money, and flowery wallpaper that’s peeling at the corners. What’s not to like?
You can’t exactly be picky. The motel is dry, safe and has two separate beds where you and Grace can finally catch up on some sleep. It's the bare necessities, but that'll just have to do.
There was only one room available, though you were dryly assured that it could accommodate two people. You pace down the hallway with Grace a few steps ahead, silently counting down the room numbers in search of your own. Your eyes snag on the walls occasionally, which are littered with gaudy oil paintings of various bird species and assorted wildlife.
Glancing around at the (slightly creepy) decor, you huff a laugh and attempt to lighten the mood with, “Hey, have you ever seen Psycho?”
Grace glances back at you. She’d been wiping the condensation off her glasses with the hem of her t-shirt, her pale green eyes round and glittering in the dim hall lighting. Her hair is curling around her nape, damp from the mad dash you two had made into reception to avoid the rain. Despite all the hours spent confined in a car, she still looks really pretty. (Though, you’re certain you look like a wet dog, what with the way she keeps stealing glances at you when she thinks you’re not looking.)
“Oh,” she says at last, lips parting. Grace looks like she’s going to say something, cogs turning rapidly in her head, before she turns away awkwardly. “Yeah, I, uh… Yeah.”
You blink, beginning to wish that you’d never said anything at all. The two of you continue down the hall in silence — Grace always keeps two paces ahead as if she’s trying to outrun you. It’s getting kinda hard not to take it personally.
Spying your room number down the hall makes all of the tension burdening your shoulders melt away. You twist the key in the lock and shoulder it open, huffing at the way the old door sticks.
When you finally cross the threshold, unslinging your bag from your shoulder and sighing in relief, the sight you're met with makes you stop dead in your tracks.
"Oh, you've got to be kidding me."
The lone bed is nestled in the middle of the room like some practical joke. You don't know what you'd been expecting but it certainly wasn't this monstrosity with its fluffed up pillows, starchy sheets and distinct lack of space for you to spend the night in.
You pinch the bridge of your nose, setting your bag down at your feet and willing yourself to wake up from this nightmare. Maybe sleeping in the car doesn't seem so bad, after all…
The stiff silence is broken when Grace clears her throat. You glance over your shoulder to see her hesitating in the doorway, shifting awkwardly on the balls of her feet.
"I, um, I can take the floor," she says softly.
You frown. "No, come on. That's not fair. You can have the bed."
"I'll feel bad if you have to sleep on the ground. Seriously, I don't mind."
She sucks in a breath. "How about we compromise?"
You raise your eyebrows. Full of surprises.
"It's been a long day," she begins, avoiding eye contact. "Let's just, uh, cut our losses. We can... build a pillow wall or something."
You snort. "I don't bite, y'know."
Her eyes snap to yours. "I— um—"
Grace clamps her jaw shut like she's trying to physically restrain herself from saying something stupid. She says something about getting ready for bed and practically lurches into the bathroom, locking the door as if endeavouring to put some kind of barrier between the two of you.
You shake your head at her antics and begin to rifle through your own overnight bag, ready to crash for a solid eight hours at least.
The fluorescent numbers on the alarm clock all smudge into one. You're stuck in limbo, cradled somewhere between midnight and three in the morning, restlessness beginning to squirm deep in your bones. You keep tossing and turning but nothing can quell the dread burrowing deep in your gut. With the nerves gnawing at your soft tissue, the incessant flashing of the hotel sign outside the window, and the fact that Grace is hogging all the blankets, there's no chance that you'll catch so much as a wink of sleep tonight.
Your mind is whirring into overdrive with every lilting breath that escapes the woman at your side. Not only is she hogging the blankets, but now you smell like her perfume. Your skin feels warm from her body heat too. Hell, she's all consuming: in your hair, in your head, in your bed—
Ahem. It's probably for the best if you stop thinking about her like that. Especially when she's this close, radiating body heat and sighing softly in her sleep.
Yet, no matter how you try to distract your mind, you find yourself tuning into the steady ebb and flow of her breathing. It’s almost subconscious, intuitive, the way you listen to her symptoms of being. In, out. In, out—
Then comes abrupt silence. Your eyebrows knit and you gnaw on your lower lip for a second, thinking hard, before you decide to whisper:
You feel her jolt. There's the barest intake of breath — hesitation, perhaps deciding whether or not she should answer or just pretend to be asleep — before she deflates and rolls over to face you.
"...Yeah," Grace murmurs eventually. "Sorry."
Breathing a laugh through your nose, you loll your head to the side to look at her. "You don't have to apologise. I was already up."
Grace watches you for a second. There's an imperceptible furrow between her brows, and her fingers twitch on the pillow subconsciously.
"Are you, uh, worried about the case?" she deduces.
You bite the inside of your cheek. "Something like that. You?"
She looks beautiful like this. The garish light from the flashing sign outside the window catches on her ivory hair, amalgamating something so tacky with something so enrapturing. Her eyes are half-lidded with sleep and her lashes flutter as she glances over the eclipsed room, avoiding eye contact as if one glance into your irises will scald her irreparably.
Maybe it's the delirium talking but, for some reason, your mouth is running faster than your brain and you break the twisting silence with:
"Do you have a problem with me?"
She jolts in surprise, head whipping around to face you properly. "What?"
You huff. "Look, I don't know if I crossed a line or offended you in some way but I'm sorry. This isn't an ideal weekend for either of us, I get that, but we don't have to spend it in total silence. If there's anything I can do—"
"No, no," she says, voice thick with nerves. "I— You didn't— It's nothing like that."
Your noses are practically touching. This close, you can see the little streaks of gunmetal grey tinting her irises. A few hair strands fan over her eyes when she shifts to look at you properly and you want to brush them away.
"Then what?" you plead. "You're driving me crazy. How can I make—" Frantically, you gesture between the two of you. "—this feel less awkward?"
Grace squeezes her eyes shut like she wishes you wouldn't have asked that. Her nose wrinkles a little as she frowns and you squash the urge to smooth the creases betwixt her brows with your thumb.
When she finds her voice, Grace is a decibel short of incoherent, soft spoken and endearingly nervous as she fidgets with her own fingers.
"I just... never know how to act around you," she begins.
You blink. Not knowing how to respond, you bite your tongue and wait for her to continue.
"You always know what to say," Grace mutters in frustration. It seems like her mouth is running faster than her brain tonight, too. "How to act, what to wear. I— I think I've always admired you a little. Going undercover like this just made me, ah... I don't know. Nervous? You're so nice and, um, when you look at me I—"
She cuts herself off, breath hitching. Her eyes widen skittishly and you gently reach out to stop her from retreating into herself, brushing her wrist with your fingertips to ground her.
The pillowcase rustles as she shakes her head, tousling her hair. She's biting the inside of her lip hard enough to draw blood and the look in her eyes makes you connect all the dots in your head. Your lips part, surprise dawning on you.
"Grace," you say softly. "Have you been acting weird all weekend because... you have a crush on me?"
She blinks up at you. "W-Well, when you put it like that—"
A smirk tugs at your lips. "Why didn't you just say something?"
"Um... I didn't want to make it awkward?"
"Right." Your eyebrows raise. "As opposed to freezing me out."
Grace winces. "I'm sorry."
You laugh. "God, Grace, it's fine. I'm just glad we could clear that up."
For a fraction of a second, you swear her eyes drop to your lips. Blink and you'd have missed it. Her focus is skirting in supinated chaos across your face, pupils dilated in the darkness. Or for some other reason...
You bite your lip. The sensible part of your brain is screaming at you not to make this any more complicated than it already is, yet the way she's looking at you hushes your rationale to oblivion. The fingers encircling her wrist ground themselves until you can feel her jackrabbit pulse squirming beneath your thumb.
She hums. It comes out more high-pitched than she'd intended and a blush spreads across her face. She fiddles with the corner of the duvet sheepishly.
From the way her jaw slackens, it's clear that she did not expect you to say that. Grace gawks at you like a total deer in the headlights.
You're starting to worry that you said the wrong thing. You open your mouth to apologise, or diffuse the tense silence, anything — only for her to grab your face and wrench your lips forward to tangle with her own.
Her lips are worry-bitten, yet soft from her peachy chapstick and tasting faintly of spearmint. They move a little clumsily against yours. Her lack of experience is outweighed by her enthusiasm — it seems like she's trying to weld herself to you, hands tangling in your hair and giving a little tug.
A surprised hum resonates from you and it seems to spur her on more. Your hand falls over her waist to pull her closer, fingers tangling in the soft cotton of her pyjama shirt. The closer you pull her, the deeper the kiss seems to get.
When you tentatively trace the seam of her lips with your tongue, her hips buck against yours and she finally draws away. You don't expect the way her pupils have eclipsed her irises, saturated with an infernal desire that kindles the heat between your thighs. She begins to pull back, drawing into herself slightly.
"Sorry," she squeaks. "I— I don't know what—"
"—I've just been waiting to do that for so long and you were so close and I just moved without thinking—"
You seal your mouth against hers, muffling her squeak of surprise with your own hum. She's soft and sweet and lets out the prettiest noise against you when you trace over her cupids bow with your tongue again. She parts her lips and you hate how her eager compliance has heat pooling in your gut. You kiss her hard, chasing the desire, and she moans when your tongue brushes her own.
It's wild how drunk you feel on her after a few seconds — all starry-eyed and foggy in the head. Your palms slide up the back of her shirt, feeling the gentle dip of her waist with reverence. Every brush of your fingers against her hot skin sparks goosebumps until there are constellations mapping her spine. She draws back slightly, panting against your lips.
"Fuck, your hands are cold," Grace whispers.
You huff a laugh, pulling away to look at her properly. You begin to slide them back. "Oh, well, I can just—"
She claws at your wrist to keep your hands fixed in place. "Please don't," Grace pleads.
You bite your lip. Heat coils tightly in your belly at the desperation in her eyes, at the way she practically whines at the idea of you pulling away.
"Well, when you ask so nicely..."
Your hands curl back along her skin, teasing the strip of skin over her ribs. Grace gasps when you trace the underside of her breast and you duck your head to mouth over her throat.
“Is this okay?” you ask lowly, voice reverberating against her neck.
She nods vigorously and you lean up, capturing her jaw in your free hand. Grace looks up at you with needy eyes.
She shivers slightly. “Y-Yeah,” she breathes. “It’s more than okay.”
A grin works its way onto your face and you reward her with a chaste kiss. “Good girl.”
Her eyes widen at that, breath hitching in her throat. Grace grabs the collar of your shirt and pulls you back down, capturing your lips with a newfound hunger spurring her on.
As she presses herself impossibly closer, you bring your knee up between her thighs and the noise she lets out is downright pathetic. Your hands anchor to her hips as you encourage her to grind against your leg, relishing the heat of her against you.
Grace gasps when you tense your thigh and it presses against her just right. Her hips stutter, jerking in an involuntary, staccato rhythm that makes her breathing grow ragged. You slide a hand down to anchor on her hip, guiding her movements against you enthusiastically.
You still your leg and pull back a little, peppering her face with kisses as you lean over her. Your face is the picture of concern as you brush a few loose strands of hair from her face, glancing over her to make sure she's alright.
Grace shivers. "I just... It's been a while. Can you—"
"Mhm. I'll go slow," you say, pressing a tender kiss to her clavicle. "Keep me right, honey, tell me what's good for you."
Nervously, her fingertips thread through your hair and she allows herself to relax into you. A breathy little sigh escapes her — one of relief, almost.
You tug at her pyjama top. "Can I take this off?"
Grace swallows thickly. "Y-yeah."
She raises her arms, allowing you to pull the tshirt over her head. You toss it and it lands carelessly on the floor somewhere.
And, fuck, the sight that you're rewarded with is well worth the initial awkwardness of the weekend.
Grace is soft and smooth beneath your hands, her pale skin littered with moles like delicate stars threaded through a moon-glazed atmosphere. Her rosy nipples are hard — perhaps from the cold, perhaps from the way you’ve been riling her up. The details don’t matter, you just want her in your mouth now.
"God," you murmur. "You're gorgeous."
She squirms slightly at the praise. It's almost instinctive that she folds her arms, covering herself from your scrutiny out of pure shyness. Gently, you prise her hands apart and keep a loose grip on her wrists, pinning them on either side of her head. It makes her squirm even more.
You dip down to take her nipple between your lips and she all but whines, the hand in your hair tightening at the roots until you're groaning against her breast. Her thighs tense on either side of your hips like they're trying to draw together for some friction.
While she squirms, your hand begins to slide down her torso. Fingertips skimming her hipbones, tracing over the sensitive skin on her lower belly just to see how she'll squirm. Then, you trace even lower.
She’s bare beneath her pyjamas. Stupid wet, too. Your fingertips graze her clit, testing the waters by rubbing a few gentle circles over her in quick succession. You're rewarded with the sweetest moan.
"Good?" you ask, lazily tracing her clit just to watch her eyes flutter.
"S-so good. Please don't stop."
You lick over the mark you left on her tit, tracing the dips and curves of her figure with a grin. "Wouldn't dream of it, honey."
Slowly, your hand traces lower until your middle finger traces her entrance, curling inside her slowly. She’s so sensitive, tightening around you from the slightest movement and dripping over your hand. Every flick of your finger inside her makes her writhe, hips rolling involuntarily as the pleasure overtakes her.
“Can you take another?” you murmur, teeth grazing the side of her breast as your finger works deeper inside her.
She chokes on a moan. “Yes. God, yeah.”
Her neediness only encourages you. Smirking against her skin, you begin to trace your kisses lower, sucking a bruise over her abdomen as you sink to your knees.
“How long have you been thinking about this?” you murmur, tracing the shape of her hipbone with your lips. “Dreaming about having me between your legs, hm?”
“T-too long,” she gasps, eyebrows furrowing in desperation. The admission makes her blush furiously. “Fuck, can you—“
You draw away, the side of your face resting against her inner thigh, pressing a few featherlight kisses to the sensitive skin there. Your fingers slow and she keens, fists tightening in the sheets as she looks down at you pleadingly.
You raise your eyebrows. “Can I..?”
She practically whimpers. “Don’t make me say it…”
You don’t let up. Eyes stern, hands still and unwavering.
Grace’s face heats up, her eyes squeezing shut as she whispers an answer through her mortification. “I… your mouth. Please. I— I need it.”
You lean up to press a kiss to her lips. “There you go,” you tease, working two fingers back inside of her and relishing in the way her eyes roll back. “Was that so hard?”
When your mouth latches onto her, Grace mewls, her hips rolling under your hand that’s pressing them flat against the mattress. She’s so sweet that it makes you drool, moaning into her as your movements become less coordinated, overtaken by how insatiable you are for the taste of her. Your nose bumps against her clit while you fuck your tongue into her and it makes her squeal, her lithe hands scrambling to anchor at the back of your head. Grace can't seem to decide if she wants to push you away to alleviate the overstimulation or drag you impossibly closer.
Her hips jerk awkwardly, almost as if she's trying (and failing) to keep her cool and ground herself. You hum in disapproval, moving your hand from her belly to firmly cup her hips. You dig your fingers into the skin of her ass to encourage her movement, loving the way she undulates under your mouth.
The roll of her hips starts to become even more erratic. Every gasp that you tear from her hitches into a broken moan. You curl two fingers inside her, taking her clit between your lips.
She nods frantically, bucking her hips up. "Please."
"Yeah?" you say softly, parting her with a few teasing kitten-licks to her clit. "Gonna come for me, pretty girl?"
You fuck her through it as she whines and falls to pieces under your touch. Her broken whimpers are making the ache between your own legs impossible to ignore and you clench them together to restrain yourself. This is all about her, tonight…
"T-Too much," she sobs, writhing beneath you.
She cries out and her back arches, clawing at the sheets to grapple for stability as her thighs quake around your head. Grace's lips part in a broken moan and her brows furrow.
You hum against her and she cries out, back bowing against the mattress. Her legs clamp around your head as she cums hard, shaking there before they loosen.
Weakly, Grace props herself up on her elbows. You lean your cheek against her thigh as you catch your breath, glancing up at her through your lashes.
"Fuck, don't apologise," you say, sounding just as wrecked. "Suffocate me. I don't care."
Grace swats at your shoulder, huffing a dazed laugh. "Oh my God, shut up."
"Mm, but you seem to like it so much when I talk to you, baby."
She hides her face behind her hands, dissolving into laughter as you pull yourself up to lean over her. Gently, you grasp her wrists to guide her hands away.
She bites her lip, a fond smile working its way across her face. "Hi," Grace breathes.
Your nose skims hers hesitantly — hyper aware of how slick your face has gotten — but she bridges the gap and genuinely moans at the taste of herself. She licks deeper into your mouth, humming against your lips before hesitation seizes her and she draws away to look at you.
"I— You didn't—" She struggles to find the words, playing with her fingers so she doesn't have to look at you. "Do you not want—"
Your head tilts in mock confusion. "Hm?"
"Do you not want me to... return the favour?"
Heat pools low in your belly at the insinuation. You can’t deny how hot and bothered you’d gotten from teasing her but you don’t want to make her feel like she’s obliged to do anything, especially with how vulnerable she is in a state like this. You caress her jaw with your hand, gently thumbing over her cheek.
You press a kiss to her temple. "Grace, baby, I'm happy to take this slow. You don't have to do anything you don't wan—"
"I want to," she says a little too quickly. Her cheeks are burning hot and scarlet, though she manages another quiet, "Please..."
Your jaw drops. "Fuck, okay. C'mere."
You roll over so that your head is pressed against the pillows and Grace is straddling your hips — glowing in the aftershocks, her hair mussed and her eyes glazed with the remnants of ecstasy.
She seems a little hesitant as she leans over to trail kisses down the column of your neck, leaving little pecks across your collarbones. You trace over her hips with your thumbs, humming as her tongue flicks over your pulse point tentatively.
"Make me feel good, honey,” you encourage lowly.
Grace's kisses are featherlight and delicate, mapping the expanse of your body in little pecks that reflect her underlying nerves and, above all, how badly she wants to savour this. She has all night to memorise you — she doesn't want to rush in.
She works her way down your body, lavishing your skin in kisses and tracing pretty patterns with her tongue that make you writhe slightly against the sheets.
Grace pulls down your pyjama bottoms and discards them next to the bed, sitting on her haunches between your legs. Her lips part at the sight of you and she sits there for a minute, gawking like you’re a sight to behold. Like she can’t believe this is really happening.
As cute as she is, the throbbing between your legs is becoming unbearable. You prop yourself up on your elbows, hiking your knees up to brush against her sides and bring her back down to earth.
“Gonna keep me waiting all night?” you tease.
Grace blinks away her reverence, a furious blush working across her face. You gather her short hair in your fist to keep it out of her face, breath hitching as she descends closer to where you need her most.
She's hesitant at first, testing the waters with a few kitten licks to your cunt. It makes you jolt, gasping a moan as she traces the shape of you with the tip of her tongue.
“Shit,” you groan. “So good f’me, Grace. Just like that.”
She whimpers against you at the praise, sending vibrations through your cunt that have you burning even hotter. Her eyebrows furrow as she loses herself in you, watching your face contort with pleasure as she delicately sucks on your clit. Every moan and gasp fuels her confidence, working her jaw harder as she licks and sucks with newfound determination to get you there. To be good for you.
Her nose is so pretty and arched and it's pressing oh so perfectly against your aching clit. You throw your head back against the pillows, a thin sheen of sweat coating your body as Grace sucks your clit, practically worshipping you with her mouth. Fuck, you don't think you're gonna last long like this—
You groan, fingers threading through her hair to gently lift her off of you. Your cunt aches from the loss, though you know what you have planned will make up for it.
Grace blinks up at you with those concerned puppy eyes, making your heart melt. Her lips are still slick and you don't want to admit how badly seeing her down on her knees affects you.
"Is everything okay?" she asks worriedly.
"Perfect, baby," you say breathlessly, cupping her face. "Just— I have an idea. C'mere."
She looks a little unsure as you guide her back up until her head is laid comfortably on the pillows, her thighs spreading to make room for you between them. You kiss away her doubts and try not to moan when you taste yourself, thumbing over her jaw as you lick deeper into her mouth.
When you pull back, she chases your lips, making you laugh. You lay a hand flat against her chest, pressing her into the sheets as you shift above her. She follows your movements in a daze.
"Stay still, baby," you murmur.
You lift her leg onto your shoulder, parting her for you. She clenches around nothing and you have to bite your lip to suppress a groan. Her thighs are still coated in arousal and they shine in the low lighting, sending a jolt of desire through you.
"W-What are you doing?" she whines.
Grace's face is burning. Avoiding eye contact, she nods.
Your free hand grasps her chin, guiding her to look at you. She blinks and you press a gentle kiss to her calf in an attempt to reassure her.
"If it doesn't feel good, tell me to stop," you say. "I've got you, honey."
And then, you slot your cunt against hers, and all Grace's doubts seem to melt away.
She's so wet — hot, slick, pulsing. Your eyes flutter and it takes every inch of your willpower not to come undone on the spot.
You steady yourself above her. "Good?"
"Fuck," she whimpers, writhing beneath you. Her squirming only presses you closer together and you both moan. "Please. Please, please—"
You gasp and roll your hips against her, feeling the heat wash over you with every grind bringing the two of you closer together.
Grace sobs when your clit presses against hers. Judging from the way she's pulsing, she must be sensitive from her other orgasms. The thought makes you groan and you roll your hips a little harder just to see how she'll react.
She's genuinely whimpering. Head thrashing side to side on the pillow, nails tangled in the sheets as her hips jerk up into your own.
"I know," you sympathise. A wave of pleasure rolls over you when she bucks her hips up into yours. "Shit. Ngh, 'm not gonna last long, baby."
Grace fumbles to grasp one of your hands and you intertwine your fingers, holding her hand down into the pillow beside her head. Her grip is tight enough to draw blood, pressing crescents into the back of your knuckle. A twisted part of your brain hopes that she leaves marks for you to find the next morning.
A pathetic whine escapes her from the overstimulation. You can feel her twitching against you and begin to roll your hips faster, gasping when your clits bump.
"I know, honey," you croon. "Gonna let me use you?"
Grace's clit pulses against your own and you swear she gets wetter. She gasps out a filthy moan, looking up at you with desperate, shiny eyes.
You laugh breathily. "Oh, you liked that, huh..."
Her eyes begin to flutter and she hums in affirmation. With every pass of your cunt over hers, the overwhelming need to see her come undone strengthens and you grip her hand tighter, head tipping back as you feel the coil in your belly drawing tighter.
Your free hand slides between your bodies until it finds her sensitive clit. A few fast circles drawn over her has Grace seizing up, coming with a loud moan that’ll have your neighbours shooting you dirty looks when you check out in the morning. Her arousal slicks over your thighs and you choke out a broken gasp at the sensation. She whispers your name like it’s a prayer, writhing as you continue to ride her through the aftershocks.
Not long after, you come with a jolt, catching yourself with two hands on either side of her head so you don’t collapse on her. Your hips jerk and your own wetness smears across her legs, making her mewl in overstimulation.
Completely out of breath, you roll over to lie next to her, forearm covering your eyes as you come down from your high. Her hand curls halfway across your heart as she tucks her head into the crook of your neck, boneless and blissfully fucked out.
“You alright?” you ask, stroking your knuckle over her back.
“Perfect,” Grace breathes.
Sleepily, she nuzzles into your neck, her fingertips tracing bleary patterns on your bare skin. Her hair fans out across your chest and her legs entwine with your own.
You press a kiss to her hairline. Part of you is nagging you to get up and lavish her in all the aftercare she deserves, though the other part is weighing you down into the mattress with exhaustion.
For now, you’re content to cradle her to your chest and listen to the rain pattering against the window. You hold her close, lashes fluttering as you fight sleep, and praise any god that’s listening for the storm raging outside…
( creds to @strangergraphics for the dividers ! )
sorry for the wait 🫶🏻 i’ve been so dead to the world with all my exams but they’re slowly coming to an end and i finally remembered that this fic existed in my drafts lmao
the ending is lowk rubbish but i was kind of running out of ideas LOL i hope it was alright!! i’ve never written or posted smut before but a few people requested some grace smut, so hopefully this meets your expectations <3 i may even post more hehe who knows
thank you for reading 𐔌՞ ܸ.ˬ.ܸ՞𐦯
andulkaphoto
gracieabrams
origamiaround
dailybridgerton
2087
