Okay this might be too freaky haha but one shot idea: what if like as a birthday present Azzi decides to cook for Paige without clothes on while Paige watches and gets turned on and then you know things ensue…
Wrapped In Nothing
a/n: loved this request and i added a fun little plot idea that came from one of my favorite songs right now, Not Fair by Leon Thomas. Hope you enjoy it :)
wc: 3.4k+
warnings: smut, MINORS DNI
It wasn’t often Paige and Azzi fought for more than a few hours. They were annoyingly good at conflict resolution. One of them always caved. Usually Paige, because she couldn’t handle the sound of her own silence. But sometimes Azzi would too because Paige would wear her down with relentless, stupid, golden retriever-level optimism. But this time? This time it was serious.
It was about the dog.
Which, sure, probably didn’t sound like a big deal to anyone else. But they’d been circling this conversation for months. Since Paige got drafted to the Wings and had immediately fallen in love with every curly-haired golden doodle she saw on the street, on TikTok, in her dreams, she’d been manifesting this dog like her career depended on it.
She had links to breeders, shelter profiles, screenshots, saved posts—the whole nine.
Azzi had been the practical one. “You’re literally playing 35 minutes a night and want to adopt a toddler with fur,” she would remind her anytime her girlfriend brought it up. She kept pushing back, saying let’s get through your rookie season first, and let’s wait until we live together full-time, and let’s find a place with a yard, and now, let’s wait until after unrivaled, like the excuses were on a loop and she was cycling through them alphabetically.
But Paige was done with the excuses. Because by now? They’d checked off every box Azzi had ever put on the list. They were living together in a beautiful new home—one Paige bought the minute Azzi got drafted to the Wings. It had a fenced-in backyard, ready for a four-legged friend to play fetch. They’d finished a full season, even made it to the second round of the playoffs. What was left to wait for?
Paige’s birthday was three days away, and all she wanted was a puppy. A small, squishable, fully hypoallergenic, wiggly little guy to love.
But Azzi said, “I think we need to agree on a name first.”
And that was the last straw for Paige. Because what the hell does that even mean? Who says no to a puppy because of a NAME? You don’t name the baby before you meet the baby. Paige was sure of it now. This wasn’t about the name. This was about Azzi stalling. Again. And she wasn’t sure why she was being so difficult about the whole thing.
So Paige got petty. She knew that she was being a bit of a brat, but she couldn’t help it. She said something stupid about Azzi being a fun sponge who hated joy. Azzi snapped back something low about being too impulsive.
Paige flinched. Azzi shut down.
And just like that, the living room was quiet in that very loud way where two people are trying very hard not to cry or punch a wall.
On day two of the Cold War, Paige was pretending to watch TV, but mostly she was glaring at the wall in silent protest. Azzi had gone on three separate jogs in 24 hours, which was basically a code red. Their friends had started texting both of them—you good?—after they bailed on plans and sent back matching yeah all good just tired texts. Which, obviously, meant no one was good and everyone was lying.
Paige was so close to going online and picking out a dog herself—name, breed, everything, damn the consequences. But the truth was, she didn’t want to do it without Azzi. Even if she was still pissed, even if the fight still sat like a bruise in her chest, she didn’t want their first pet to be born out of spite. That wasn’t how she wanted to remember it.
What Paige didn’t know was that Azzi had already made an appointment at a golden doodle shelter with a brand-new litter. She’d been planning the whole surprise for Paige’s birthday… but, of course, she had to go and ruin it by being her usual stubborn, infuriating self.
Azzi just had to hold out a little longer—even if every part of her wanted to blow the whole surprise just to make pouty Paigey go away. The plan was set. Appointment booked. Puppy basically gift-wrapped and ready to waddle straight into Paige’s arms.
The problem was that Paige was still mad. Not in a dramatic, storming-off kind of way—just the slow-burn, emotionally chilly version, where she said, “I’m fine,” as if it were a threat.
And Azzi was starting to worry that Paige might be too mad to leave the house on her birthday.
Desperate times call for desperate measures.
So the next morning, Azzi got bold. No more passive-aggressive standoffs. No more stewing in separate rooms.
She knew her girlfriend. She knew how to break that pout wide open. She knew what buttons to push, which switches to flip, and—when it really mattered—how to short-circuit every last one of Paige’s defenses.
And if that meant syrup, seduction, and a little birthday sin? So be it.
She woke up early.
She had decided to make pancakes from scratch. The real kind, not the mix. She even added chocolate chips, because Paige said it tasted like “love.” She was already cooking in the kitchen by the time Paige shuffled out of the bedroom mid-yawn, hair a mess, still in her pajamas, and stopped dead in her tracks just past the hallway.
Azzi didn’t turn at first. She stood at the stove like she had all the time in the world, flipping a pancake with infuriating grace—as if she weren’t perfectly aware of how exposed she was. Every shift of her shoulders made the muscles of her back flex and roll, a slow, casual display that was anything but accidental.
“Morning,” she said, voice lazy, unhurried. Like two days of cold silence hadn’t happened. Like she wasn’t deliberately standing there naked, knowing Paige’s eyes would betray her.
Paige swallowed hard. “What… what are you doing?”
Azzi tilted her head, hair falling over one shoulder, the smallest smirk tugging her lips. “Making breakfast.”
“…Like that?”
“Like what?”
“You’re not wearing any clothes.”
“It’s hot in here,” Azzi said, completely flat, though the subtle curl at the edge of her mouth betrayed her. She knew exactly what she was doing.
Paige folded her arms tight across her chest, trying not to stare, trying not to break. Azzi was cheating, weaponizing every line of her body. “I’m still not talking to you,” Paige snapped, but there was no real bite to her words.
That finally got her. Azzi turned just slightly, enough to glance over her shoulder—and Paige’s pulse spiked.
She was naked, bare skin against cool granite, completely unbothered, casually flipping a pancake with one hand like this was a fully clothed, emotionally neutral morning.
Because of course she’d do that. What a menace. Paige stared, heart thudding, and thought, Yep. That’s it. I’m done. There go my last three brain cells.
Her defenses didn’t just crack—they evaporated.
She swallowed hard, tried to act normal, failed spectacularly. Her singular thought was interrupted by Azzi’s voice.
“Then don’t talk,” Azzi murmured, eyes locking on hers. “It’s your birthday. Just sit while I finish cooking breakfast.”
The words hit harder than Paige expected. Her chest tightened, her throat catching. She forgot what day it was.
She nodded, barely.
Then, slowly, she moved to one of the kitchen stools and sat down—quiet, blinking, hands folded in her lap like she didn’t know what else to do with them.
And Azzi just… kept cooking.
Completely naked. Calm. Focused. She moved around the kitchen like nothing had happened—like she hadn’t just knocked the wind out of Paige with a few soft words and a spatula. Hair still messy from sleep, pulled up in a high bun with curls framing her face, she was totally at ease, flipping pancakes as if it were just any other morning.
Paige tried to look away. She really did. But her eyes kept drifting back—tracking every curve, every flex, every unbothered little movement. It wasn’t even about sex. It was something better. Something softer.
She was making breakfast for her because it was her birthday. And because—despite the argument—they still loved each other like it was automatic.
She needed to do something—anything—before she melted right off the stool.
So she stood and stepped forward, reaching for the plate Azzi had just finished putting together, trying to play it cool. But Azzi pulled it back just an inch, teasing. Their bodies nearly touched, warmth sparking between them. Paige froze, caught in the trap, and Azzi’s smirk deepened, softening at the edges.
Paige didn’t reach again.
Instead, she leaned in—slow, cautious—and wrapped her arms around Azzi’s waist. Her cheek pressed to bare skin, and for a moment she just stood there, breathing her in.
“I don’t want to fight, okay?” she asked quietly, holding the plate just out of reach. “Happy birthday, baby.”
Paige’s resolve cracked, the pout she’d been clinging to slipping fast. It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair. Azzi was impossible to fight like this.
“Thanks, babe. I’m sorry for being so pushy.”
“It’s okay, I’m sorry too.”
“Let’s just press pause on the whole dog thing. Wanna enjoy today with you.”
Azzi replied, “Sounds good to me.” She gave Paige kisses along her cheek, jawline, and neck before stepping out of the embrace to finish cooking.
Paige held the plate herself now, but she wasn’t looking at it anymore. Her eyes dragged down Azzi’s body, unapologetic now, following the smooth slope of her shoulders, the subtle definition of her abs, the curve of her perky breasts, and the way every movement seemed engineered to make Paige ache. Heat coiled low in her stomach, sharp and unrelenting.
Azzi finished making her own plate before setting it aside on the counter. She closed the gap between them. She moved as if she were still cooking, still in control, but her hand slid along Paige’s wrist, coaxing her to set the plate she had been holding onto down. Azzi’s fingers lingered, deliberate, tracing the sensitive inside of her arm before gliding lower.
Paige shivered, her jaw clenched tight to hide the reaction. Azzi leaned in, lips brushing her ear, breath hot enough to make Paige’s knees wobble.
“So tell me,” Azzi murmured, wicked amusement threading through her voice, “do you want pancakes first… or me?”
Paige’s throat worked, the answer punching out before her brain could catch it. “Both,” she whispered, raw and needy.
Azzi’s laugh was low and dangerous, the kind that promised trouble. “Greedy girl.” She didn’t sound disapproving. If anything, she sounded thrilled.
Before Paige could blink, Azzi had the syrup bottle in hand, her gaze locked like she was daring Paige to stop her. She tilted it slowly, letting a glossy amber line trail down the curve of her chest, dripping across her hardened nipples and down the dip of her stomach. Paige’s eyes went wide, breath catching.
“Ready for a taste,” Azzi said, voice velvet and sharp all at once.
She licked slow at first, savoring it, dragging her tongue over the swell of Azzi’s breast, circling a nipple until Azzi’s fingers fisted tight in her hair. Paige smiled against her skin, then sucked hard—just to hear her moan.
Azzi’s legs shifted beneath her, thighs parting slightly, the tension in her body spiraling higher with every pass of Paige’s mouth. Syrup was moving lower now, clinging to the ridges of Azzi’s hips, and Paige dropped to her knees on the kitchen tile, sticky and flushed, dragging her tongue down the last of the syrup trail. Then she looked up, eyes dark, lips shining.
“Taste’s so good, ma,” she murmured, voice thick with heat. “Sweet all over.”
Azzi let out a low, broken laugh, her hand already in Paige’s hair, tightening. “Fuck—P. Feels like my birthday.”
Paige grinned, kissed the inside of her thigh, then licked higher, just enough to make Azzi twitch.
“Nah, you know this is my favorite place to be,” she whispered. “Best birthday gift I could ask for.
Her tongue dragged slow and deliberate, tasting every inch of her, savoring every soft gasp that spilled from Azzi’s mouth.
Azzi moaned, fingers sinking harder into Paige’s hair. “Well, consider this your first present of many today.”
“Yeah?” Paige looked up, lips slick, eyes dark with intent. She let her fingers trail slowly up the inside of Azzi’s thigh, featherlight, maddening. “You want me to make a mess of you right here?” she whispered. “On the kitchen counter? Legs spread, dripping for me—syrup, spit, all of it?”
Azzi bit her bottom lip, hard.
Paige leaned in closer, her mouth brushing just shy of where Azzi was wet and waiting.
“Fuck yes,” Azzi breathed. “Do it. I’m yours. Fucking eat.”
She stood suddenly, hands gripping Azzi’s thighs, and with one smooth, determined motion, lifted her up and onto the kitchen counter. Azzi let out a breathy gasp, heels knocking lightly against the cabinet doors as Paige stepped in between her legs.
“Spread,” Paige said, voice low, steady. Azzi obeyed without a word, hands braced behind her, thighs parting wide as the cool granite met her bare skin. The contrast made her shiver—cold countertop, warm air, Paige’s hot breath ghosting over where she needed her most.
“Jesus,” Paige groaned, almost to herself. “You’re so fucking perfect like this.”
Then, she dropped to her knees again, her hands sliding up Azzi’s calves, then gripping just above her knees. She looked up, lips parted, eyes locked in—hungry.
Then she leaned in.
Tongue first—slow, deliberate, licking through the slick mess between Azzi’s legs like she had all the time in the world. Her lips closed around her clit in a slow suck, then she did it again, rougher this time, more pressure, her rhythm precise and merciless. Azzi gasped, back arching, one hand flying forward to clutch at Paige’s hair.
Paige moaned into her, the vibration shooting straight through Azzi’s core.
“Fuck, you’re soaked,” Paige rasped. “Been thinking about this all morning, haven’t you?”
Azzi nodded, breathless, hips rolling forward. “Fuck—yes. Don’t stop.”
Paige pulled back just enough to speak, her mouth slick, her voice a low growl. “Say please.”
Azzi’s fingers tightened in her hair, her voice catching. “Please.”
Paige smirked, licking a slow stripe up the inside of her thigh before meeting her eyes. “Good girl.” And then her mouth was already back on her. One hand slid up, fingers digging into Azzi’s hip to anchor her, hold her still. The other drifted higher, thumb circling, adding just enough pressure to make Azzi cry out.
Every sound Azzi made just spurred her on—each gasp, each broken curse, each helpless moan echoing off the tile. Paige kept going, deeper, messier, fucking her with her mouth like she had something to prove.
Azzi was shaking now, head tipped back, thighs trembling around Paige’s shoulders. Her orgasm hit fast and hard—hips jerking, breath catching, voice cracking on Paige’s name like a prayer.
But Paige didn’t stop.
She didn’t even slow down.
Because it was her birthday. And Azzi? Azzi was the gift that kept on giving.
She kissed her way back up Azzi’s stomach, chasing the last streaks of syrup like a woman starved, until Azzi caught her under the chin and pulled her up into a kiss that was all tongue, all hunger, no patience.
“Jesus,” Azzi breathed against her mouth, tasting herself on Paige’s lips. “Remind me to cook for you naked more often.”
Paige huffed. “You’ll win every fight then.”
“Exactly,” she murmured, nuzzling into Paige’s shoulder. “Now you get your pancakes.”
Paige laughed, breath still catching in her throat. “After all that? You think I have the strength to chew?”
“You’re gonna eat every bite,” Azzi said, kissing her collarbone. “Birthday rules.”
They moved slowly, giggly and clumsy, stealing kisses as they moved to the dining table. Azzi reheated the pancakes on the skillet, humming off-key, still wearing nothing but a few smudges of syrup and the world’s most satisfied smile.
Paige sat in one of the chairs watching her. Her heart was full—still pounding, still wild—but soft around the edges now. That golden, quiet heat after the fire.
When Azzi set the plate down in front of her—towering, buttery, drowned in syrup—Paige moaned dramatically.
“Oh my God. I love you.”
Azzi smirked, sitting down beside her. “I know.”
They dug in, sharing bites, licking syrup off each other’s fingers, occasionally feeding each other strawberries just for the excuse to kiss again. The morning had tipped into afternoon, and neither of them cared. This was exactly where Paige wanted to be.
Then Azzi leaned back in her chair, fork dangling, and gave her a suspiciously casual look.
“So,” she said. “What do you say we go for a little drive?”
Paige narrowed her eyes. “A drive?”
“Just a quick one. Twenty minutes, tops.”
“Where you wanna go, ma?”
Azzi smiled too wide. “It’s a surprise.”
They finished breakfast, Paige still questioning her but too content to press, and within the hour they were in the car—windows down, music low, Paige driving them to an unknown location, only getting directions from Azzi on where to turn next.
She didn’t realize where they were going until they pulled into the gravel lot.
Her eyes went wide.
“Azzi… is this—?”
“Yup,” Azzi said, cutting the engine. “Animal rescue shelter. And yes, before you ask—I already talked to them. They’re expecting us.”
Paige turned to her, mouth open. “You’re kidding.”
Azzi reached into her purse and pulled out a little collar—lavender purple with a tiny golden tag that read Birthday Girl’s Pup.
“I’ve had this planned for months,” Azzi said, suddenly a little shy. “I was just trying to keep it a surprise.”
Paige blinked hard. “Well, now I feel like a dick.”
“Don’t, baby—it’s okay. I know you’ve been patiently or not so patiently… waiting for me to be on board. And I have been, I just wanted to surprise you.”
Paige’s eyes went glassy. “I’m gonna cry.”
Azzi leaned in and kissed the corner of her mouth, soft and lingering. “You’re allowed. But let’s go meet your birthday girl first.”
The bell above the shelter door jingled as they stepped inside, hand in hand, Paige clutching the little lavender collar like it might disappear if she let go. The woman at the front desk smiled knowingly the second she saw them.
“You must be Paige and Azzi. Come on back—he’s waiting for you.”
Paige made a broken noise. Azzi squeezed her hand tighter.
They followed her into a side room, quieter than the rest of the shelter, with a handful of gated pens set up on padded flooring. And there—center pen, already at the gate—was him.
Golden curls. Big brown eyes. Floppy ears. His tail was a blur, wagging so hard his whole back end was dancing. And when he saw them, he let out a tiny bark and threw his whole little body against the gate like he’d just spotted his people.
Paige dropped to her knees.
“Oh my God,” she whispered. “That’s him. That’s our son.”
Azzi chuckled, undoing the latch. “Go ahead. He’s yours.”
The moment the gate opened, the puppy barrelled straight into Paige’s lap and immediately started licking her face like he’d been waiting weeks to do it. Paige laughed and cried at the same time, cradling his wiggling, squirming body against her chest.
“He’s perfect,” she whispered. “Az, you’re perfect.”
The puppy gave one happy yip and then, true to form, immediately tried to eat Paige’s hoodie string. The shelter worker smiled and handed Azzi a clipboard. “We’ll just need a few signatures. And you can take him home today.”
Paige turned, eyes wide. “Today-today?”
Azzi nodded. “You think I’d bring you here just to look? He’s coming home with us. He’s already yours.”
Paige threw herself into Azzi’s arms again, nearly squashing the dog between them. “I love you so much, baby.”
Azzi kissed her temple. “I love you too, P. Happy birthday.”
The puppy barked again, just to make sure he was included in the moment, and then flopped dramatically across both of their laps.
Paige stared down at him. “Okay, now we have to name him. Something good. Something iconic.”
Azzi smirked. “Don’t even try to pretend like you don’t already have a name in mind.”
Paige looked down at the puppy, a smile forming knowingly.
“I was thinking… Kai.”
Azzi looked at the puppy, who had now wrapped his paws around Paige’s wrist and was attempting to nibble her sleeve like it owed him money.
a/n: It's been a bit and it'll probably be a while before I drop another one, but I had a bit of free time and loved this one shot request/idea of Paige losing a bet and having to wear a vibrator out in public.
warnings: smut, mdni, vibrator use, public teasing (consensual)
wc: 2.6k +
They were on day four of what Paige would now consider the dumbest bet she’d ever agreed to. She was mildly annoyed by day two, but she was entirely over it at this point.
“Az, this bet is so fucking stupid.”
“I didn’t think we were being serious.”
“Look, we didn’t even shake on it so it doesn’t count, right?”
Azzi smiled, unbothered, and rolled her eyes. It only made Paige more dramatic.
“Come on, Azzi, are you for real? If you really loved me, you wouldn’t put me through this.”
“This is actually kinda messed up when you think about it.”
Paige wasn’t even sure why she’d agreed to this. It felt like actual torture now. But she knew that it was partly her own fault. Her ego, her mouth, that damn look Azzi gave her.
Still, it wasn’t just Paige’s overconfidence that got her here, but she didn’t need to know that as far as Azzi was concerned.
It started earlier in the week. Paige was sprawled on her bed scrolling through Instagram. Azzi walked in without knocking, like always and Paige barely looked up. She flicked her eyes over, gave a lazy nod, and went right back to her phone.
Which was exactly what Azzi had expected.
Then she said it.
“Hi, baby.”
She made sure her tone was sweet, soft, and way too innocent. It was the kind of tone that never meant just hi.
Paige’s head snapped up like she’d been hit.
The phone went flying onto the nightstand like it burned her hand. She turned toward her girlfriend with a grin already forming.
“Hey, mama. What’s up?”
Azzi laughed, shaking her head. Paige’s expression was obvious with want written all over it and that was exactly what Azzi was counting on.
The thing is, Azzi wasn’t there for a casual visit. She’d been planning this for weeks. It all started with some random Instagram ad — one of those oddly specific ones that made you wonder if your phone was listening. She scrolled past it at first, not registering it, but then she paused, swiping back to look at it again.
The idea started forming before she even clicked the link.
Azzi knew how to get in Paige’s head. Not manipulate her, exactly, she liked pushing Paige’s limits, reminding her who really held control when she wanted to. She wasn’t walking into her girlfriend’s room that day.
She was setting the whole thing in motion.
She tucked the box behind her back, walking in with that smile — the one that always got her what she wanted.
“Just came to say hi,” she said with a voice syrup and innocence.
Paige patted the bed beside her. “Then come say hi a little closer.”
Azzi sat down, close but not close enough, choosing to leave a frustrating sliver of space. She gave her a quick kiss on the cheek before skillfully setting the box she’d been hiding behind her back next to her so it was still out of Paige’s view. She pulled out her phone nonchalantly.
Paige frowned. “What are you doing, baby?”
“Showing you some TikToks.”
“Why are you sitting all the way over there?” Paige tugged lightly at Azzi’s shirt. “Come over here.”
Azzi shifted a little so their shoulders touched. Paige’s arm went around her without thinking, pulled her in closer, lips brushing her neck clearly trying to change the vibe.
But Azzi kept her eyes on her phone and nudged Paige with her elbow, letting her know she was actually trying to show her something. It was some random video neither of them would remember later — but the video wasn’t the point. The point was that Azzi knew exactly how Paige would react.
Three… Two... One…
Paige groaned. “Bro, I’m not trying to look at TikToks right now.”
“Paige, you’re always on your phone. Let me show you a few.”
“You deadass?”
“Yes.”
“Oh my God,” Paige sighed, already caving. “These better be good.”
Thirty minutes later, Paige was barely holding it together. Azzi’s laugh, her perfume, her thigh pressed against hers — it was all too much, and Paige’s patience was gone.
“Baby, please… no more videos.”
“You do this to me all the time,” Azzi teased.
“Not true.”
“Don’t even.”
“But not when we could be doing other things…”
Azzi’s eyes flicked up, sharp and amused. “You can’t be serious.”
“Bro, what?” Paige’s jaw dropped.
“Paige, you’re always on your phone. And the one time I want to show you something, you’re being a brat about it.”
“Can you blame me?” Paige grinned, eyes dragging over her. “You walk in looking like that and expect me to focus?”
Azzi smirked. “Thanks, babe.” Then, without missing a beat: “But don’t get sidetracked. You’re the one addicted to social media, not me.”
“Azzi. Please. That’s cap.”
“Is it?”
“Bro, yes.”
“Alright, prove it.”
“Prove what?”
“That you can stay off social media longer than I can.”
Paige let out a short laugh. “That’ll be so easy.”
Azzi raised an eyebrow. “You’re so cocky, it’s unreal.”
Paige shrugged. “You love it.”
Azzi smirked. “Then you won’t mind if we turn it into a bet…”
She kept her voice light and casual, as if she hadn’t been planning this exact moment all week and wasn’t already three steps ahead.
Paige’s grin turned slow, dangerous. “Oh yeah? What do you have in mind?”
“Funny you should ask…”
Azzi finally brought the box out from behind her back. She tossed it across the bed, and Paige caught it midair.
“What’s this?” Paige asked, suspicious.
Azzi leaned back on her hands with an unreadable expression. “Open it.”
Paige stared at the box, then at her girlfriend, then back again. Whatever this was, she already knew she was in trouble. She opened it to find a small purple vibrator with a matching colored remote.
Her mouth fell open. Speechless.
Azzi looked so proud of herself. “Loser wears it out. Winner controls it. Simple rules.”
That was day one.
Today, the fourth day, Paige cracked.
It wasn’t dramatic, even though Paige had been loud about it all day. It was a quick moment at the kitchen counter. She had her phone in hand and her thumb hovered over Instagram. Her muscle memory betrayed her.
Azzi didn’t even look surprised when Paige confessed. “Perfect. I already have the night picked out.”
************
The night Azzi picked wasn’t anything special, which honestly made it worse.
It was a team movie night. With blankets everywhere, popcorn bowls balanced on knees, the TV casting soft light over everyone slouched on the couch and floor, it was totally normal… for everyone else except Paige.
Because Paige had a vibrator inside her.
One Azzi had slipped in earlier with a kiss and a smirk before heading over to join the team.
Azzi made her way over to her spot next to Paige and leaned in, her breath warm against Paige’s ear.
“This is gonna be fun,” she murmured.
Paige shot her a look sharp enough to cut glass. Azzi smiled innocently and turned her attention to the screen like she wasn’t about to torture Paige for the next hour or so.
For a while, Paige tried to ignore it. She laughed when everyone else laughed, reached for popcorn, nodded at whatever someone mumbled about the plot. She was doing okay—until Azzi’s hand slipped into her pocket for the remote.
A low hum kicked on inside her and Paige saw god for a second. Her jaw tightened so hard it might’ve cracked. She didn’t move, she couldn’t, not with a whole team around her and a goddamn vibrator buzzing where no vibrator should be buzzing during group activities.
Her eyes snapped to Azzi, who seemed completely unbothered.
The vibrator wasn’t loud enough to be heard over the movie, but Paige felt every second of it. The vibrator pulsed gently, then stopped. Another tap. A little stronger this time. It was never enough to push her over, not even close, but it kept her hanging there with a clouded mind and every nerve on high alert.
She shifted slightly, trying to ease the pressure building in her core, but the motion only made it worse. She bit down on the inside of her cheek, forcing herself to nod along to some stupid comment from a teammate.
Azzi hadn’t looked at her once since the movie started, and when Paige finally stole a glance, she immediately regretted it — another tap.
Paige drew a breath, sharp and shaky, forcing her gaze on the screen. She tried to stay still, be normal, but she couldn’t. Not with the way her body was wound tight, not with everyone sitting there clueless while she —
She crossed and uncrossed her legs, shifting, desperate. Nothing helped.
Another tap, even stronger this time.
Paige leaned in and muttered under her breath, “You're evil.”
Azzi didn’t answer. Instead, she tapped the button again, eyes on the screen.
That was it.
Paige stood up fast enough to jostle the couch. A couple heads turned, but she was already brushing them off with a stiff smile.
“Bathroom,” she mumbled. “Back in a sec.”
Except she didn’t go to the bathroom. She grabbed Azzi’s wrist and pulled her up with her, voice low enough that only Azzi could hear, “You’ve got ten seconds to get to my room before I lose my fucking mind.”
Azzi laughed under her breath and followed without a word.
The second the door clicked shut, Paige was on her. Her hands were on Azzi’s hips, pulling her in, mouth crashing against hers with all the hunger she'd been holding back for the last hour and a half.
She pushed Azzi until her back hit the wall with a soft thud. She wanted to take her time, really — tease, kiss slow, make it last — but the vibrator still going inside her made that impossible. She was too turned on to think straight.
Paige broke the kiss, breath hitching as she shook her head, trying to get her focus back. Her eyes were half-lidded, heavy with want.
Azzi could tell Paige was fucked up. She tilted her head a little, lips brushing Paige’s ear as she said, “Somebody’s desperate.”
Paige’s answering grin was breathless. “Shut up.”
Azzi slipped her hands under Paige’s shirt, dragging her fingertips slow enough to make her shiver. “Make me.”
Paige did exactly what Azzi told her to and covered her mouth with her own. The kiss was slower this time, deeper. Her tongue slid over Azzi’s lips, and Azzi met her halfway. They stayed like that for a while before Paige used her teeth to catch on Azzi’s bottom lip before she sucked it in and bit, enough to pull a sound out of her girlfriend.
The sound hit her right in the center, and whatever patience she had left snapped.
Paige’s hand slid up Azzi’s side and found her throat, fingers curling around the front of it as she gave a slow, steady squeeze. Not too hard, but enough to make Azzi’s breath catch.
Her other hand was already on the move, dragging down her back and settling on her ass. She squeezed once — firm, possessive — then did it again, rougher this time. The feel of her, warm and full under her hand, made Paige groan into her mouth before she could stop herself.
She’d been on edge for hours. She could’ve given in right then, easy — but that wasn’t how this worked. Azzi came first. Always.
Paige kissed down Azzi’s jaw, slow and steady, her mouth warm and open against her neck. Azzi grabbed for the wall with one hand, the other clutching Paige’s bicep, fingers digging in hard. Her head tilted back, eyes fluttering shut.
She’s being so fucking sweet about this, Azzi thought. After everything — after teasing her all night and being a menace — Paige was still like this.
Then Paige dropped to her knees, mouthing along Azzi’s thighs, taking her time. Her hands dragged up behind her mouth, tracing her path, until she hit the hem of her shorts — and then kept going, grabbing Azzi’s ass again, pulling her hips forward into her face.
Azzi laughed, breathless. “Jesus,” she muttered, trying to keep her balance. One hand went into Paige’s hair, the other steadying herself again on the wall.
Then Paige kissed her right over her shorts and looked up at her like she was something holy. Her eyes were glassy, lips parted, breathing hard. The vibrator was still going inside her, and Azzi could see it was wrecking her.
Still, she didn’t move for herself.
Paige hooked her fingers into the waistband of Azzi’s shorts and yanked them down to get access. The second the fabric peeled back, the heat hit her — wet and warm and so fucking inviting. Her mouth was on Azzi immediately, tongue dragging up through her slick with a low, filthy moan. The sound tore out of her, hot and needy.
Azzi let her head thump back against the wall, hips already rolling forward. Paige didn’t fight it. She let her grind into her face, one hand clutching Azzi’s thigh while the other fumbled for the remote on the floor.
She cranked it to the highest setting.
The vibrator inside her kicked up hard. Paige gasped at the change of intensity. Her mouth opened right against Azzi’s pussy, but she didn’t pull back or pause. She let out a low, wrecked moan that hit Azzi’s core like a fucking earthquake.
Azzi whimpered and yanked Paige’s hair, to drag her closer.
Not that Paige could’ve if she wanted to. Her whole body was shaking, thighs clamped tight, chasing her own high with her face still buried between Azzi’s legs.
Azzi started grinding harder.
Paige fucking loved it — loved being ridden, used, loved the way Azzi took control without saying a word. Her mouth stayed open, tongue messy and eager, licking up everything Azzi gave her.
“Fuck, baby,” she gasped between licks, voice wrecked. “Keep going. Use me. Just like that.”
And then she pushed her tongue in, as deep as she could go, and Azzi whined as her hips jerked forward. She kept fucking her with her tongue — pushing in, then pulling back to suck on her clit before sliding back in again.
Between breaths, she mumbled, “You taste so fucking good.”
She curled her tongue inside her trying to reach every slick inch while her nose pressed against Azzi’s clit.
Paige was dripping, shaking, ready to come herself, but she didn’t stop. Couldn’t. Not when she could tell how close Azzi was.
Azzi confirmed Paige’s thought with a “Baby, so close.”
Their moans started to sync up, and they got louder and faster.
Azzi was whining now, her voice breaking as she began to beg without meaning to, whispering, “Please, P.” again and again.
Paige was so close. Azzi could feel it in the way her fingers dug into her thigh, the way her body trembled, the way her eyes screwed shut trying to hang on, trying not to come before Azzi did.
Azzi’s grip tightened in Paige’s hair, her head dropped forward, a broken, aching sound ripping out of her chest just as Paige’s whole body jerked, a cry muffled into Azzi’s cunt.
They came together.
For a second, it felt like the air had been sucked out of the room.
Paige stayed on her knees, head pressed into Azzi’s stomach now, arms wrapped tight around her hips holding herself up.
Azzi ran her fingers through her hair, not saying a word. Because she didn’t need to.
Paige breathed, eyes closed, trying to come back down to earth.
A fic where Paige wears a strap like out to dinner but azzi doesn’t know until they get there
STRAPPED IN
a/n: trying to manifest a 30 piece from Paige tonight, but after that, pretty much straight filth. I need an outlet while I write slow burn in finding form lol. I combined this request with another one involving a strap. Hope you enjoy it :)
wc: 1.8k+
warnings: smut, minors DNI, NSFW (ironically wrote in the privacy of my office at work 😂)
Paige was feeling herself.
She had every reason to. She didn’t need the media or fans hyping her up — she knew exactly who she was and the kind of player she’d worked her ass off to be. But after dropping 44 on L.A. and another 35 on Seattle earlier this week, she wasn’t exactly trying to be humble about it either.
Add Azzi being back from China after weeks apart, and Paige had every intention of celebrating right.
Hence the reservation at Soy Cowboy. Private booth, tucked in the back — Paige's idea. She’d missed Azzi too much to deal with people tonight. Cameras. Fans. All distractions. She wanted her girl close, and right now they were sitting shoulder to shoulder on the same side of the booth, drinks in hand, grazing on appetizers while they waited for the real food to hit.
Paige finished a beef skewer, then held out her sauce-slick fingers in front of Azzi with zero context.
Azzi blinked at her. “What?”
Paige didn’t say anything. Just raised an eyebrow.
Azzi got the message.
She leaned in, took Paige’s fingers into her mouth, and sucked them clean — slow and steady. Paige groaned, low in her throat. Her eyes fluttered. She was already wired tonight, and Azzi’s mouth on her — even like this — wasn’t helping.
She briefly regretted not just ordering in. But then again, they wouldn’t be here. And Paige wouldn’t get to surprise Azzi with something she knew would drive her a little crazy.
Azzi released her fingers and brought her face towards Paige’s. She nipped at Paige’s earlobe. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too, baby.”
Azzi pulled back. “Can we just go home already?”
“Az, we just ordered $200 worth of food.”
Azzi groaned. “That’s your fault.”
“You’re telling me you can’t wait an hour?”
“You know I’m not patient.”
Paige grinned. “Would it help to know I’m already strapped?”
Azzi blinked. Froze. Then her eyes dropped, scanning Paige’s oversized jeans. When she looked back up, her pupils were blown.
Sitting like this, the bulge was visible. Not obvious to anyone else, but Azzi saw it. And more importantly — she felt it when her hand dropped under the table and pressed against Paige’s crotch. The hardness. The shape. The confirmation.
Paige leaned back, smug as hell. “Thought you liked surprises.”
Azzi’s jaw clenched as heat pooled between her legs. “You’re such a fucking tease.”
“I just wanted to see you squirm a little.”
Azzi didn’t answer. Instead, she gripped the strap through Paige’s jeans, fingers curling around the outline of it, and gave it a slow, deliberate tug.
The pressure dragged the smaller end of the double strap deeper inside her — snug and already pressed against her walls, the sudden shift made her whole body jerk. Paige gasped, hips jolting forward against the booth as a sharp hiss slipped through her teeth. The toy wasn’t just for show — it was buried inside her, every movement Azzi made from the outside translating directly to heat and friction where she needed it most.
“Fuck,” Paige muttered under her breath, voice tight.
She gave the strap another squeeze, this time slower. Paige’s thighs flexed, her jaw clenched. She was already wet, the base of the strap nudging right where she needed it. Just that little bit of movement had her pulsing.
“Az—fuck—you can’t do that here.”
Azzi smirked. “Sensitive?”
“Don’t start,” Paige warned, but her voice was already shaking.
“Should’ve thought of that before wearing it out.”
“I wore it for you. Don’t be a brat about it.”
Azzi rolled her eyes, but she let go. She knew exactly what Paige was doing — pushing buttons, feeding the fire. It worked. It always worked.
Their entrees came soon after, and the tension simmered just under the surface as they ate. No more antics — not yet — but Azzi’s legs stayed pressed tight together under the table, and Paige’s hand drifted down more than once to adjust the strap inside her jeans.
As soon as they were done eating, Paige threw down her card, tipped heavy, and followed Azzi out like a woman on a mission. The second they got to the car — parked between two massive trucks — Paige grabbed her before she could open the door.
She spun Azzi around and pressed her against the side of the car, hard. Azzi gasped, breath caught in her throat, just as Paige kissed her — deep and filthy, tongue pushing past her lips like she owned her. Their mouths moved in sync, a familiar rhythm, Azzi already melting into it.
Paige’s hands were all over her — down her back, cupping her ass, gripping tight. She lifted Azzi easily, pressing her into the car, Azzi wrapping her legs around Paige’s waist without thinking.
She rolled her hips forward, slow and hard. The strap pressed right up against Azzi’s pussy — only a thin thong and Paige’s jeans between them. The pressure was immediate, direct. Azzi gasped, head tipping back as a loud moan tore out of her throat. She could feel the shape of it, the weight, right against her clit, and her thighs instinctively clenched around Paige’s waist.
“Shh, baby,” Paige whispered, one hand covering her mouth with a grin. She thrust her hips forward again, slower this time, watching Azzi fall apart.
Somewhere in all the friction, Azzi’s thong had shifted, and Paige’s jeans were dragging directly over her soaked center. Azzi whimpered against Paige’s palm, completely gone already.
They would’ve kept going if it weren’t for the sharp beep of a car locking nearby.
Paige froze. They both did.
Breathing heavy. Jeans damp. Heart racing.
Reluctantly, Paige set her down and fixed her pants. Azzi adjusted her dress. When Paige glanced down to adjust the strap, she saw a dark patch on her jeans.
“Damn, Az. You’re dripping.”
“We need to get home,” Azzi said, dead serious.
“No arguments here,” Paige muttered, opening the door for her.
They didn’t even make it ten minutes into the thirty-minute drive before Azzi decided to be a menace.
Again.
Her hand went right back to Paige’s crotch, stroking the strap through her jeans. Paige tried to ignore it, but she obviously failed.
Breaths got heavier. Hips started rolling. Paige hit cruise control on the freeway, subtly spreading her legs.
“This is so unsafe,” she laughed, breathless.
“Want me to stop?”
“...Not really.”
“Then focus.”
Azzi didn’t wait. She unbuttoned Paige’s jeans and pulled the zipper down, revealing the strap. Paige looked at her like she was insane.
“Azzi—fuck—what are you doing?”
Azzi smirked. “Always wanted to try this.”
She loosened her seatbelt just enough to lean over the console. Paige tried to keep her eyes on the road, but it was hard — especially when she felt Azzi’s mouth wrap around the strap.
She gasped.
Azzi spit, then sucked. One hand at the base, mouth working it like it was real — and Paige felt everything. The strap inside her tugged and shifted with every movement.
Paige groaned, pressing herself back into the seat. One hand on the wheel, the other pushing Azzi’s hair out of her face so she could watch. Azzi’s lips were glossy, the strap glistening with spit, and Paige was already on the edge.
“God—feels so good—baby—”
Azzi hummed, the vibration shooting through her.
Paige’s hips bucked. She couldn’t stop it. “I’m close—fuck—”
She thrust up into Azzi’s mouth again — once, twice — deep enough to make Azzi gag around the strap. Then suddenly Azzi pulled back, lips wet, spit trailing from her mouth to the tip. Paige almost whimpered at the loss — until Azzi wrapped her hand around the base and started jerking it. Hard. Fast. Each pump of Azzi’s fist pulled the strap taut inside her, grinding it against that sweet, swollen spot that made Paige see stars.
Azzi leaned in and bit her neck, sucked hard. Paige’s whole body shuddered.
“Don’t stop—Az—fuck—”
“You gonna come for me, Paigey?”
“Y-yeah—fuck—”
Paige's orgasm slammed into her — fast, hot, no warning. Her thighs snapped shut, back arched hard against the seat. Her eyes rolled back as her whole body locked up, the strap jerking inside her with every twitch. She shouted, loud and raw.
“Fuuuuuuuuck—”
The car swerved, tires edging over the lane line. Paige barely registered it, lost in the wave crashing through her. Azzi moved quick, one hand still wrapped around the strap, the other reaching for the wheel. Calm. Focused. Steadying them like this was routine.
Paige was still shaking, gasping for air, knuckles white on the wheel.
“You’re fucking wild,” she panted, breath catching on the tail end of a moan.
Azzi wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and smirked, smug and completely unbothered. “You loved it.”
By the time they got home, neither of them were waiting — Paige shoved her seat back, and Azzi climbed into her lap like it was instinct, not even hesitating as she pushed her soaked thong to the side and sank down onto the strap in one slow, seamless motion. They both groaned, loud and breathless, the relief hitting all at once.
Azzi rode her like she needed it — dripping, messy, hips slamming down with no rhythm, just raw desperation. She was whining already, hair sticking to her face, hands gripping the seat behind Paige like she might fall apart if she let go. Paige fucked up into her without mercy, eyes locked on the spot where Azzi was taking her, the strap coated in slick every time it disappeared inside. It was loud — the wet slap of skin on skin, the obscene drag of the toy, Azzi’s moans getting higher with every thrust.
“God, so big—daddy—”
“You love being full, huh?”
“Yes—yes—always—”
“Say it.”
“I love your cock—fuck—daddy, I love it—”
She pinned Azzi in place like she owned her, driving the strap up into her over and over, each thrust hitting harder than the last. Azzi’s thighs were shaking now, her head thrown back, mouth open but too wrecked to form words.
“Can feel how close you are, baby. So fucking tight for me.” Paige’s voice was low, ragged, and that was all it took — Azzi broke with a cry, loud and shaking, her body seizing up as the orgasm hit. She clung to Paige like she couldn’t hold herself up, arms locked around her shoulders, thighs trembling.
Paige didn’t stop — just kept fucking her through it, each thrust deep and dirty, until Azzi’s pulsing around the strap pulled her under too. Paige dropped her face to Azzi’s neck, growling as she came, hips stuttering, muscles drawn so tight it almost hurt. The aftershocks rolled through her in waves, sharp and hot and overwhelming.
Azzi was still catching her breath when she mumbled, “This is why I love when you wear it out.”
Paige wiped sweat from her forehead. “You could’ve killed us.”
i thought of an idea and i think u would do it well
i think it would be really funny if before paige eats it she fully says grace cause shes so religious
and maybe azzi would be getting impatient but paige would just be feeling rly greatful thanking god
Saying Grace
a/n: Loved this idea, anon!! Kinda short, but I had fun writing this. Hope you enjoy it :)
warnings: mostly fluff, but has sentimental smut, NSFW, minors DNI
wc: 1.9k+
Paige was deep in her WAG era, and she was thriving in it. Tonight had been one of those games that reminded her exactly why. She’d just watched UConn dismantle Florida State at home, and Azzi had put on a clinic — 28 points, 6 assists, 5 rebounds, 3 steals. Paige couldn’t have been more proud if she tried. Azzi had been silencing critics all season, proving she wasn’t just good — she was the best. Everyone knew she was the unanimous No. 1 pick for the 2026 WNBA draft.
Paige couldn’t help thinking she must’ve done something right in a past life to get a front row seat to this — both the game and the girl. Her only prayer was that the Dallas Wings got the first pick, because at this point, it was the only thing that could salvage the dumpster fire of their current season.
Now, they were at Ted’s with the rest of the team, celebrating an undefeated record. A mid-season break meant they’d all agreed to actually let loose for once. Azzi had taken that challenge personally — she was four shots deep, each one chased with a Long Island iced tea. Paige had stopped keeping track of the exact count somewhere between the third and fourth round, but it was clear Azzi had blown past tipsy and landed squarely in clingy, drunk-girlfriend territory.
Pressed against the bar, Paige had an arm draped over Azzi’s shoulders as they half-listened to Serah and KK’s ongoing debate about whether Spotted Cow beer was a “Midwest delicacy” or just “overhyped nostalgia.” Azzi didn’t care. She wasn’t listening anymore. Her feet ached, her head was spinning, and all she wanted was to take her beautiful blonde girlfriend home and have her all to herself.
Her fingers toyed with the hem of Paige’s oversized tee, brushing it up just enough to get her attention. Paige barely noticed — she was too busy laughing at KK’s story about spitting out her first sip of Spotted Cow all over her mom.
So Azzi upped the ante. Her hand slid under the shirt, fingertips tracing slow circles into Paige’s bare back. That did it. Paige turned her head, pulled Azzi in closer, and whispered into her ear, “What’s up, baby?”
Azzi didn’t answer with words. She just smiled faintly and tipped her head toward the door.
Paige chuckled, dropped a kiss to her temple, and wrapped up her conversation with KK and Serah before leading them out.
They took an Uber to Azzi’s dorm. The whole ride, Azzi stayed pressed into Paige — not with heat or lust, but like she was anchoring herself. Paige had been her anchor since they were teenagers, the place she always returned to, steady and safe. Tonight, it was both symbolic and literal. Azzi’s body needed Paige to stay upright, and her heart had needed her for years.
Paige had been there through everything — the big wins, the crushing losses, the nights of tears that had nothing to do with basketball. She’d seen Azzi at her strongest and at her most fragile, and loved her the same in both. It wasn’t the kind of love that asked for constant fireworks. It was quieter, steadier, the kind that showed up without question and stayed without conditions.
As the car bumped along the familiar streets toward campus, Paige rested her cheek against the top of Azzi’s head, breathing her in. Azzi smelled faintly of perfume and sweat, but underneath was that scent Paige always associated with home. Paige’s hand found Azzi’s knee and gave it a small squeeze — not to steady her, but as a reminder: I’m here. I’m always here.
Azzi let out a slow exhale, the kind that came when your body finally allowed itself to relax. Her eyes fluttered shut, and for a moment, it felt like they were the only two people in the world. Paige knew Azzi would remember none of the ride tomorrow — but she’d remember this feeling. The quiet weight of the woman she loved leaning into her like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Once inside, there was no pretense of tearing each other’s clothes off. Azzi was too drunk, too drained from the game. Instead, they shared a hot shower, steam curling around them as they washed the sweat and liquor from each other’s skin in slow, tender motions. Paige always loved this — the quiet intimacy of holding each other under running water, no rush, no distractions. If this wasn’t an answered prayer, she didn’t know what was.
They fell asleep in their usual formation: Azzi’s head on Paige’s chest, face tucked into her neck, Paige’s arms wrapped protectively around her.
Paige woke the next morning to the sensation of Azzi’s lips on her neck — gentle, tender kisses that made her shiver. When Azzi found that sensitive spot just behind her ear, Paige sighed and pulled her fully on top.
Azzi ground her hips down instinctively, both of them groaning at the friction. Paige loved mornings like this — waking up to her girl needy, moaning her name, offering herself up like a prayer waiting to be answered.
“I swear, baby,” Paige murmured, gripping two fistfuls of Azzi’s perfect ass, “you’re the best blessing I ever got.”
Azzi smirked but blushed as she pulled her shirt off, revealing bare skin. Paige didn’t waste a second before leaning up to kiss and suck gently at her nipple, drawing a gasp.
“You feeling needy this morning?” Paige teased.
“You already know the answer to that,” Azzi replied breathlessly.
“Yeah, I do. You’re soaking through those shorts.”
Azzi flushed. “I woke up from the best dream ever.”
“That right? What kind of dream?”
Before Azzi could answer, Paige slid a hand under her waistband, fingers gliding through slick folds. The moan that escaped Azzi’s mouth was obscene enough to make Paige grin.
“Well? What happened in your dream, baby?” Paige asked again.
Azzi tried to speak, but Paige’s fingers were circling her clit in the most perfect way. Finally, Paige stilled her hand, forcing Azzi to find her words.
“You and me,” Azzi admitted shyly. “Like this.”
Paige tilted her head. “Like this? Or…”
Azzi rolled her eyes, knowing Paige wouldn’t let it go. “More or less.”
Paige smirked. “Give me some specifics.”
When Azzi didn’t answer, Paige slid her shorts down, lips quirking. “Come on, baby. Help me make your dreams come true.”
Azzi leaned in to whisper, hiding her face. “I was riding your face.”
That was all Paige needed to hear.
Paige’s grin widened the moment the words left Azzi’s lips. She gave a little shove to Azzi’s hips, urging her to sit up, then guided her forward until her thighs framed Paige’s face.
Azzi steadied herself against the headboard, breath quickening. She could feel Paige’s warm breath ghosting over her, but the expected first touch never came. Instead, Paige closed her eyes, that familiar scrunch of her brows appearing as her lips moved soundlessly.
It took Azzi a second to realize what she was seeing — and feeling — but the faint dampness she brushed from Paige’s cheek confirmed it. “Baby… are you crying?” she asked softly, thumb caressing her skin.
Paige cracked one eye open, smiling sheepishly. “Just thanking God for you, baby. You know this pussy makes me emotional.”
Azzi let out a startled laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”
Paige’s smile turned wicked. “Gotta say grace before breakfast.”
Azzi doubled over with laughter, but the ache between her legs didn’t let her forget why she was here. “Okay, well… can you maybe hurry it up?”
“I was almost done, but then you interrupted me. Now I gotta start over.”
Azzi groaned, her tone dropping into a needy whine. “Paige, please…”
Paige chuckled, the sound low and intimate. “Patience, Az.” She closed her eyes again, her voice dropping to a reverent murmur as her hands smoothed over Azzi’s thighs, holding her steady. This time Azzi caught fragments of the prayer — thank you for my baby… she’s the most beautiful woman… I don’t deserve someone so perfect…
It made her chest tighten almost as much as her core. The words hit her heart while the anticipation wrecked her body. After another few beats, Paige’s tone shifted, voice deliberately louder: “And thank you, God, for giving my girl the best-tasting pussy in the whole world.”
Her grip on Azzi’s thighs tightened. “This is my favorite place in the world, baby.”
Azzi barely had time to roll her eyes before Paige’s mouth was on her — hot, soft, and unrelenting. She moaned loud enough to echo off the walls, one hand flying back to grip the headboard while the other threaded into Paige’s hair.
Paige groaned into her, the sound vibrating against her clit as she sucked it between her lips. God, she could live here. Her hands gripped Azzi’s ass, guiding her down, urging her to move. And Azzi did — rocking her hips, chasing every flick and swirl of Paige’s tongue like it was salvation.
Each time Azzi’s moan broke into a gasp, Paige pressed her face harder, as if she could climb inside her, consume her whole. She murmured praise against her, words lost in the wet heat but the intent clear: you’re perfect, you taste so good, I love you.
Azzi’s thighs trembled. The headboard rattled. And Paige didn’t let up, instead, licking her through one crest of pleasure straight into another until Azzi was shuddering, breathless, and utterly wrecked.
Paige didn’t just eat her — she worshipped her. Every drag of her tongue, every slow press of her lips was intentional, as if she were tasting something holy. Azzi’s hips rolled instinctively, her clit catching on Paige’s tongue in just the right way, over and over until her breath came in short, sharp bursts.
“Paige—” she gasped, the syllable breaking apart halfway through as Paige sucked harder.
Paige’s hands squeezed her ass, kneading the flesh before pulling her down tighter against her mouth. She couldn’t breathe — didn’t want to breathe — not when she had this. Not when she could drown in Azzi.
She broke away just long enough to murmur against her, lips brushing her soaked skin, “You’re so perfect, baby. My perfect girl. My favorite flavor.”
Azzi whimpered, nails scraping gently over Paige’s scalp. Her thighs were quivering, heat curling low in her belly, winding tighter and tighter. Paige could feel it — the way her muscles tensed, the way her breath hitched.
“That’s it,” Paige encouraged, sliding one hand around to press two fingers deep inside her. Azzi cried out at the intrusion, the stretch, the way Paige curled them immediately against that spot that made her see stars.
Paige pumped in time with her mouth, tongue circling and flicking, building the pressure at a ruthless pace. She kept whispering between breaths — fragments of devotion, praise, filth — you’re mine… so sweet… love you so much… gonna make you come for me.
Azzi’s head fell back, mouth open in a soundless moan before she found her voice again. “I’m—Paige—I’m so close—”
“Give it to me,” Paige urged, voice rough with want. “Come for me, baby. Come on, let me taste you.”
That did it. Azzi’s whole body seized, pleasure slamming through her like a tidal wave. She cried out Paige’s name, thighs clamping around her head, grinding down helplessly as she rode out the orgasm. Paige held her there, tongue and fingers working her through every last pulse until Azzi finally slumped forward, shaking, her hands falling to Paige’s shoulders for balance.
Paige slowed, easing her down, but couldn’t resist one last slow lick before pulling back. She looked up at Azzi with a grin equal parts smug and tender, lips shiny, hair a mess. “Amen.”
Azzi giggled weakly. “Don’t people usually say amen before the meal?”
Paige winked. “Sure — but this one deserved seconds.”
a/n: okay this was inspired by a prompt from an anon wanting to write a one shot of pazzi first time. so i expanded on that a little bit and here we are. hope you like it! always love when you send me reactions too :) thanks for reading!
warnings: sexual content, nothing crazy, pretty vanilla tbh, still minors DNI
wc: 4.6k+
It started as a harmless game. A group of teammates sprawled across the common room floor, fingers up, drinks in hand, already a little too loose with each other. Someone threw out the prompt:
"Never have I ever masturbated."
Fingers dropped. All but one.
Jana stayed strong, finger still up. The room erupted.
"Nah, that’s cap!"
"Come on, Jana!"
But she stood her ground. “I haven’t. Deadass.”
There was a beat of disbelief, then laughter. Paige put a finger down. So did Azzi. And when their eyes met—brief, electric—they both looked away, cheeks flushed. Not for the same reasons as everyone else.
Ashlyn smirked and raised the stakes.
“Never have I ever had sex.”
More fingers dropped. Azzi’s stayed up. So did Paige’.
The room turned.
“Wait. What? P, seriously?”
“You were wild freshman year!”
“I wasn’t that wild, chill.”
“Azzi been here two seconds and you’re already pussy whipped, and you ain’t even hit yet?”
Paige rolled her eyes, laughing along with the noise, but the flush creeping up her neck wasn’t just from the tequila. Azzi, as always, stayed quiet—cool on the outside, her faint smile giving nothing away.
They were used to this. The comments. The assumptions. Everyone swore they were already something—more than friends, secretly hooking up, sneaking around. Because of how they looked at each other. Because of how they didn’t look at anyone else.
And yeah, okay. Maybe there was truth in that.
But what no one knew—what they never talked about—was that the line between them hadn’t been crossed. Neither of them could admit how much they wanted to or how close they had come to doing it several times.
It wasn’t just tension. It was them—years of knowing and wanting, yet unable to take that leap of faith into something more. Because they were best friends, and maybe that was the thing that scared them most—that it already meant everything to each other before they even touched.
All the focus was still on Paige. Loud laughter, teasing questions, and someone trying to refill her drink even though she had waved them off twice. No one seemed to notice that Azzi hadn’t put a finger down. While the others were busy dissecting Paige’s love life like it was a group project, Azzi had stayed quiet—unbothered, unreadable, the bottle resting in her lap. Her hand never moved.. Just sat there, calm and unassuming, like the question didn’t apply.
And because the spotlight wasn’t on her, no one called her out.
Except Paige saw it.
Saw the way Azzi’s eyes flicked around the circle, measuring reactions. Saw the subtle stillness she slipped into, like she was trying to disappear without moving.
Paige didn’t say anything. Didn’t press. But she wasn’t about to forget about that fact.
Later, they were where they always ended up: in Paige’s room, on her bed, the lights low and the rest of the apartment quiet. They lay shoulder to shoulder, eyes on the ceiling, saying nothing. The silence was familiar, a space they both knew how to exist in. Close, but not touching.
Their breathing had synced without them trying, shallow and quiet, like they were trying not to disturb the moment. Paige’s hand rested just inches from Azzi’s, fingers curled in loosely, and for a second, she thought about closing the gap. Just a brush of knuckles. Something small but unmistakable. She didn’t.
Instead, she let out a breath of laughter, low and nervous. “Wild how neither of us has had sex.”
Azzi laughed too, but hers was softer, a little surprised. “Yeah. The longer we wait, the more it feels like it’s gotta mean something, you know?”
Paige turned her head to look at her, taking in the profile she knew better than anyone’s. “It does,” she said, voice steady.
Azzi didn’t look away.
“You trust me?” Paige asked, her voice quiet, almost cautious.
They weren’t touching—still—but the question closed the space between them in a different way. Azzi turned her head, met Paige’s eyes in the low light, and nodded without hesitation. “Of course. You’re my best friend.
That word hung in the air like a held breath. Best friend. Safe, familiar… limiting. Paige’s smile flickered, faltered for half a second, like something in her chest tugged sideways. She didn’t try to hide it fast enough.
Azzi saw. Of course she did. “Do you trust me?” she asked, her voice softer now, tinged with something uncertain. Not quite fear. Not quite hope.
Paige’s gaze didn’t waver. “With everything.”
A long moment passed. The kind where the air gets heavier, thick with things unsaid. Paige’s heart beat so loud in her ears it drowned out the silence. Her mouth was dry. She swallowed.
“Can I ask you something kind of…” She trailed off, searching for the word. “Personal?”
Azzi gave a small smile, something open and steady behind it. “Yeah. Always.”
Paige hesitated. “Have you ever thought about it? Like… who you’d want it to be with?”
Azzi went still beside her. Not tense—just very, very present. “Yeah,” she said after a beat. “Sometimes.”
Paige’s voice dropped, almost a whisper now. “Would you ever… want it to be me?”
Azzi turned her head fully, eyes locking onto hers. The silence stretched, not awkward but electric.
Then, quietly Azzi asked, “Are you saying you want it to be you?”
Paige felt the heat rise to her face but didn’t look away. “I’m saying… if it was something you wanted too, I wouldn’t be scared. Not with you.”
She didn’t answer right away. But her hand moved—finally, for fucks sake—crossing that last bit of space, until her fingers brushed Paige’s. Their faces were close now—too close for this to still be nothing. Just inches apart. Breath brushing skin, eyes locked.
They’d hovered here before, in moments charged with something they never named. But this time, it was different. Heavier and honest, like they’d finally run out of ways to avoid the truth.
Paige’s gaze dropped to Azzi’s lips. Her hand lifted slowly and touched Azzi’s cheek, her fingers barely grazing skin. Azzi’s eyes fluttered closed at the contact, a soft sigh escaping like she’d been waiting for it.
And then, finally, they closed the space.
The kiss was soft at first, a gentle test. Careful. However, the spark was immediate and undeniable. Paige pressed in a little more, deepening it just enough to say I mean this.
Azzi answered with a quiet moan that sent a shiver straight down Paige’s spine.
That did it.
Everything they’d been holding back broke loose in that sound—years of friendship, tension, wondering, wanting.
Paige deepened the kiss, her tongue slipping past Azzi’s lips in a slow tease, tasting, testing. Azzi responded with a low hum, then bit down gently on Paige’s bottom lip, holding it for a beat before sucking it into her mouth.
That short-circuited something in Paige. She groaned into the kiss, something messy slipping out of her. It was needy and completely unfiltered. Her stomach flipped, nerves and want knotting tight and hot all at once.
Her hands moved without thought, sliding under Azzi’s shirt to her waist, then lower, gripping tight. Azzi didn’t hesitate—she shifted forward and straddled Paige’s thigh like it was the most natural thing in the world. Her hips pressed down, testing, grinding just enough to draw a sharp breath from Paige and a low curse she didn’t mean to say out loud.
“Fuck—Az,” Paige breathed, her voice cracking at the edges. She felt like she was unraveling, undone by how good it felt to finally have her.
Their bodies moved together like they’d always been meant to—no instructions needed, just instinct. Years of quiet yearning finally spilling over into touch. Paige's hands roamed greedily, like she’d been waiting a lifetime for permission. She cupped Azzi’s ass and squeezed hard, pulling her closer, needing her closer.
Azzi’s breath hitched against her mouth, and Paige felt it like a jolt straight to her center.
“Damn, Az—your ass—shit—” Paige groaned, voice wrecked, half-laughing, half-desperate as her fingers dug into Azzi’s bottom like she couldn’t get enough.
Azzi let out a breathless laugh, still grinding against Paige’s thigh. “You like my ass, P?”
Paige’s head fell back against the pillow, eyes squeezed shut like she was trying to hold it together. “Been staring at it for years, wondering how it’d feel in my hands.”
Azzi rolled her hips again, slow and steady, dragging friction between them that made Paige’s breath catch.
“And?” Azzi asked, teasing, voice low and dark and full of heat.
Paige opened her mouth, the words tumbling out before she could stop them. “Feels so fucking good, ba—”
She caught herself too late.
Azzi paused for a moment, then smiled slowly with awareness.
She leaned in, mouth brushing the shell of Paige’s ear, her breath hot against skin already flushed and oversensitive. “You can call me baby,” she whispered.
Paige swallowed hard. Her hands gripped tighter.
She didn’t say anything. Couldn’t. Just let out a low, guttural moan and bucked her hips up hard, meeting Azzi’s grind with matched urgency.
The pace between them shifted, becoming sloppier and more desperate. Azzi rode her thigh with intent now, breath catching every time her clothed center dragged against Paige. She was soaked through her shorts, and Paige could feel every bit of it.
Paige gripped her ass, pulling her down harder, guiding her rhythm. Every grind had her teeth clenching, pulse thudding between her legs.
Paige gave Azzi’s ass a sharp, playful slap that made her jump, the sound echoing in the quiet room. She followed it with a rough squeeze, fingers digging in like she didn’t want to let go. Azzi yelped, half-laughing, half-gasping, then grabbed Paige’s face and kissed her hard..
Clothes started peeling off. Azzi first, sitting back to strip her shirt. Paige’s eyes locked on her bare chest. No bra. No hesitation.
“Holy shit.”
Paige’s mouth was on her before she could think. Kissing, sucking, rolling a nipple with her thumb as she worshipped the other with her tongue. Azzi moaned, arched, hands tangling in Paige’s hair.
When Azzi peeled Paige’s shirt off, she didn’t just toss it aside—She pushed Paige back with a grin that said she’d been thinking about this—about her—for a long time. “Now it’s my turn,” she said, her voice low, a little rough.
She straddled Paige’s hips, leaned down, and began kissing her way down her chest—slow and wet, leaving glistening trails of spit in every dip and curve. Her lips dragged over Paige’s neck, her tongue flicking teasingly before she moved lower, sucking just beneath her collarbone. Then another, lower.
Paige gasped, head pressing back into the pillows. “Trying to mark me up or what?”
“Maybe,” Azzi murmured, voice husky, and then latched onto a nipple. She sucked hard, her tongue circling as Paige’s body jolted beneath her.
Paige swore under her breath, her fingers threading into Azzi’s hair, holding her in place like letting go wasn’t an option. Azzi gave one last suck, then slowly pulled back, lips slick, eyes dark with want.
For a second, neither of them moved. Their breaths were uneven.
Azzi sat back on her heels, still straddling Paige, and looked down at her like she couldn’t believe what they’d just crossed into. Paige propped herself up on her elbows, chest rising and falling, eyes locked with Azzi’s.
“P, you’re so fucking hot,” Azzi said.
Paige smiled, eyes tracing over Azzi like she was trying to memorize her. “Nah, baby… that’s you.”
The word hung there—baby—and this time, Paige didn’t flinch when she said it. Azzi’s eyes softened, something raw and open flickering across her face.
Paige reached up, brushed her fingers along Azzi’s jaw. Her voice was quieter now, but steady. “You wanna keep going?”
“Yes. A thousand percent. Do you?” Azzi asked, voice steady but eyes giving her away—wide, searching, like she still half-expected Paige to pull back.
Paige reached up and cupped her cheek, thumb brushing just beneath Azzi’s eye. “I’ve wanted you for as long as I can remember,” she said, voice low but certain. “I just needed to be sure you want this too.”
Azzi leaned into her touch, nodding once. Not rushed. Just certain. “I need you, baby.”
Those words falling from Azzi’s mouth did something to her. Paige swallowed hard. Her mind flashed back to the game, to the question, to the finger she’d put down.
She looked up at Azzi, eyes half-lidded but focused. “You think about me when you touch yourself?” she asked, barely above a whisper.
Azzi choked on a breath, then buried her face in Paige’s neck like she could physically escape the question. “Paige!” she groaned, voice muffled and mortified.
Paige grinned, cocky now, fingers dragging up Azzi’s back. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
A beat of silence. Then, muffled against her skin: “You’re not.”
Paige laughed, low and delighted. “That’s what I thought.”
Azzi groaned again. “I hate you.”
“No, you don’t,” Paige said, dragging her nails just lightly enough down Azzi’s spine to make her shiver. “But now I can’t stop thinking about it.”
“Will you show me?”
Azzi’s eyes widened. “What? No!”
“Please. Just want to learn what you like.”
Azzi hesitated at the edge of the bed, her fingers hooked in the waistband of her shorts. Paige watched her, heart thudding, mouth suddenly dry. She could see the nerves and anticipation in her eyes. But then, Azzi stood. Her hands moved with purpose now, sliding her shorts and thong down in one smooth motion.
She was bare.
Paige couldn’t help but stare. Not out of shock, not just desire, but awe. Her thighs pressed close together, arms hanging at her sides like she wasn’t sure what to do with them. Her breath came quick and shallow, her chest rising and falling.
Paige gently sat up, her gaze soft and full of admiration for Azzi. It was as if she was beholding something truly sacred—not merely desire, but a profound, heartfelt love. She took her time, quietly absorbing the moment without rushing or averting her eyes.
“God,” she breathed, voice thick. “You’re so beautiful.” The words came out soft and unguarded, like they’d lived in her chest for years and finally found their way out. No teasing, no bravado—just truth.
Azzi’s breath hitched. Her arms instinctively folded in front of her, like she wasn’t sure what to do with the weight of being seen like that.
Paige reached out, gently unfolded her. “Don’t hide from me,” she whispered. “Please.”
She nodded, eyes glassy, lips parted.
Paige smiled, warm and full of something deeper than lust. “I mean it. You’re… everything.”
Azzi swallowed hard, then climbed back onto the bed. Instead of straddling her again, she eased down beside her, then onto her back, her body tight with nervous energy. Her legs stayed closed togethe, like she wasn’t quite ready to open up all the way, not yet.
“Don’t laugh at me, okay?”
Paige sat in front of her, sliding her own shorts and boxers down so that Azzi wasn’t the only one bare. “Never.”
She pushed Azzi’s knees apart gently. The sight of her—wet, glistening—knocked the breath from her lungs.
Azzi’s hand moved slowly, almost shy at first, trailing down the length of her stomach, grazing her belly button piercing. Her fingers brushed over her hip bones, then lower, finding her folds with practiced ease. She parted her legs just enough, knees still tilted inward, and began to touch herself in slow, steady circles—familiar, confident, but softer than performance. It wasn’t for show. It was real.
Paige watched like she was hypnotized, her mouth slightly open, pulse pounding in her ears. “That what you always do?” she asked, voice low and rough.
Azzi nodded, biting her lip, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment.
“You like it slow, baby?” Paige’s voice was velvet now, coaxing, tender but it had an edge.
“Mmhmm,” Azzi breathed, her fingers never stopping, hips rolling just barely. Controlled. Needy.
Paige shifted closer, her hand sliding across the sheets to rest gently on Azzi’s thigh. “You always think of me?”
She opened her eyes, found Paige’s, and answered immediately. “Yes, baby. Always.”
Paige’s breath caught somewhere in her chest. Her fingers tensed against Azzi’s skin. “You want me to touch you now?”
Azzi’s lips parted, her breath shaky, and she nodded.
“Please.”
Azzi’s breath hitched as Paige hovered beside her, still watching, still waiting. Then Azzi reached out, fingers curling around Paige’s wrist—not pulling, just coaxing.
“Come here,” she whispered, her voice soft but sure.
Paige moved without thinking, shifting to lie on her side, close enough to feel the heat radiating off Azzi’s skin. Their foreheads nearly touched, breaths mixing. Paige’s hand hovered awkwardly for a second, unsure where to start. Azzi didn’t wait. She took Paige’s hand gently, laced their fingers for a moment, then guided it down between her legs. “I’ll show you,” she said, her voice barely more than a breath.
Azzi’s hand layered over Paige’s, her fingers leading hers in circles like before—showing her the rhythm, the pressure, the way she liked to be touched. Paige focused completely, her eyes on Azzi’s face, soaking in every twitch, every sigh.
She caught on quickly. Within moments, Azzi let her hand fall away, trusting Paige to keep going. Her fingers twisted in the sheets, whole body wound tight as Paige dipped lower, slow and hesitant, feeling what made Azzi tremble.
Azzi whimpered, hips shifting, legs falling open just a little more.
“You want me inside?” Paige asked, her voice low, steady, but gentle.
Azzi nodded, her voice cracking just slightly. “Yeah… but slow. Sometimes it hurts.”
Paige leaned in, kissed her temple. “Okay, baby. Slow. I’ve got you.”
She pressed in slowly, fingers gliding through soaked heat, until she found the right angle. Her breath caught as she eased just the tip of one finger inside—inch by inch, mindful, listening.
Azzi gasped, her body tensing for a beat. Her hand shot out, wrapping around Paige’s wrist—not to stop her, but to ground herself. Her grip was tight, almost trembling. “It’s okay,” she whispered, voice strained. “I want it. Just—keep going. Slow.”
Paige leaned in and kissed her cheek, her jaw, anything she could reach. “I’ve got you,” she murmured.
She pushed in deeper, and Azzi’s walls clenched around her, hot and impossibly tight. Paige groaned low in her throat, overwhelmed by the feeling. She kept moving, letting Azzi’s body adjust around her.
“You’re so tight, baby,” she whispered, pressing her forehead to Azzi’s. “So fucking perfect.”
Paige curled her finger gently, testing, searching for that spot. The moment she found it, Azzi let out a low, involuntary moan—soft at first, then rising, as if the sound surprised even her. Her thighs twitched, breath catching in her throat. She kept the motion going, her thumb brushing lightly over her clit while her finger worked in slow, steady pulses.
Then, when she felt Azzi relax into it—open up a little more—Paige slid in a second finger.
Azzi gasped, her back arching slightly. “Fuck—”
Her hips moved like they couldn’t help it, chasing every flick of Paige’s fingers. She gripped onto Paige’s shoulder like she needed something to hold on to.. Paige matched her rhythm, eyes looking down at her fingers getting swallowed by Azzi’s pussy.
“You’re doing so good, baby,” she whispered. “So fucking good.”
Azzi’s moans filled the room. Wetness dripping down Paige’s fingers and onto her hand.
“Can I taste you?” Paige asked, voice hoarse.
“You don’t have to…”
“I want to.”
Paige kissed her way down Azzi’s body with purpose now, trailing open-mouthed kisses over hot skin, lingering just enough to make her squirm. She didn’t pause at her stomach, didn’t tease—just pressed a kiss to Azzi’s hip, then settled between her thighs.
She eased Azzi’s legs apart a little further, kissing the inside of one trembling thigh, then dove right in with one long, deliberate lick.
Azzi cried out, her hips bucking off the bed, one hand flying to Paige’s blonde hair, fingers tightening instantly.
Paige didn’t let up. She groaned into her, the sound vibrating against Azzi’s clit as her tongue swirled, slow and filthy. She licked like she was starving—wide, flat strokes, then sharp flicks, then sucking Azzi’s clit between her lips and drawing moans straight from her chest.
Azzi was falling apart fast. Her legs shook, her breath came in broken gasps, and her hips began to move—grinding into Paige’s mouth like her life depended on it. She was already soaked, and Paige didn’t hold back—messy, hungry, like this had been building for years, because it had been.“Fuck—Paige—don’t stop, don’t—fuck—”
Her voice was high, wild, and Paige didn’t stop. She let Azzi ride her face, grinding her pussy down hard, loud and unfiltered, calling Paige’s name like it was the only word she knew.
When she came, it hit hard and her legs clamped around Paige’s head with her whole body tensing as she screamed, raw and wrecked. Paige held her through it, tongue still moving, softening only when Azzi started to twitch with oversensitivity.
She finally pulled back, chin shiny with slick, mouth swollen, hair a mess. She looked up at Azzi with a crooked grin. “You taste so fucking good,” she said, voice wrecked and proud.
Azzi let out a weak, breathless laugh, arm flung over her eyes, body still twitching from the aftermath. “Jesus Christ,” she panted, voice raw.
“You made a fucking mess,” she murmured, dragging the back of her hand over her chin, still grinning like she couldn’t believe it. “You’re all over my face.”
Azzi peeked out from under her arm, flushed and breathless, but her eyes weren’t just dazed. There was something else. Hunger, yes. But something quieter too. Like seeing Paige like this had unlocked something new. Something inevitable. She sat up slowly, legs shaky but determined, and reached for Paige. “Good,” she said, voice low and wicked. “Now lie down.”
Paige’s smile twitched, nerves and anticipation sparking in her chest. She leaned back against the pillows, but her hands hovered uncertainly, not quite relaxed.
Azzi noticed. “You okay?” she asked, voice gentler now, thumb brushing lightly over the skin just above Paige’s hip.
Paige nodded, then hesitated. Her eyes dropped, lips parting like she wanted to speak but wasn’t sure how.
“I’m good,” she said, then corrected herself. “Just—nervous.”
Azzi waited, quiet and steady, giving her space.
Paige exhaled shakily. “I’ve never… finished.” She met Azzi’s gaze, something vulnerable and almost embarrassed in her eyes. “I can get close, but… I don’t know. I always stop. I think too much.”
Azzi’s face softened instantly. She leaned in, brushing her lips against Paige’s forehead. “Hey,” she whispered, “that’s okay.”
Paige’s jaw tensed like she was ready for her to pass some judgment.
But Azzi just smiled. “Let me help you, baby. No pressure. No rush. Okay?”
Paige nodded, her voice barely audible. “Okay.”
Azzi kissed her again. There was something patient in it, like she had all the time in the world to make Paige feel wanted. Needed. Loved. Her hand drifted lower, fingers gliding across herstomach, then down between her thighs, already parted in quiet invitation. Paige’s breath stuttered, her hips lifting slightly, aching for more before Azzi had even truly touched her.
Azzi dragged her fingers through her slick folds, teasing, spreading them gently. She took her time, watching Paige’s face the whole time—how her eyes fluttered shut, how her chest rose and fell quicker with every slow pass from her clit to her entrance and back.
“So wet,” Azzi murmured, her voice like a low hum. “You’re dripping, baby.”
Paige whimpered, her legs falling open wider.
Azzi began circling her clit in slow, lazy motions, just enough pressure but not enough to push her anywhere close to the edge. Paige’s fingers gripped the sheets, her whole body clenching with want.
And then—when Paige started to move her hips in sync with the soft moans slipping out from her mouth she slid one finger inside.
Paige gasped, eyes flying open, her mouth forming a silent oh. Her whole body arched toward Azzi’s hand, overwhelmed by how good it fucking good it felt.
She was starting to unravel embarrassingly quickly, but just as her body began to tense with the promise of more—
Azzi pulled away.
“Wha—what are you—?”
But Azzi was already kissing down her belly.
“I didn’t want you to come without knowing how this feels.”
Azzi lowered her head, eyes still locked on Paige’s, her breath warm. She kissed her inner thigh first, slow and soft, then the other, working her way inward.
Then she licked her.
One long, slow drag of her tongue from the base up, finishing with a light flick of her clit.
Paige almost sobbed. Her whole body arched off the bed, a raw, strangled sound escaping her throat. “Fuck—” Her hands flew to Azzi’s head, fingers instantly tangling in those dark curls, holding her there like she couldn’t risk her leaving again.
Azzi didn’t rush. She licked again, almost slower this time, savoring the taste of Paige’s pussy, her tongue moving in firm, unrelenting strokes. She sucked Paige’s clit between her lips, then let it go, then sucked again, alternating with teasing flicks that had Paige moaning so loud she didn’t care who could hear them.
She kept going—lips, tongue, mouth greedy and unrelenting. Paige’s thighs trembled on either side of her head, her stomach tightening with every wave of sensation. Her voice had dissolved into broken gasps and half-formed curses, her back arching higher with every stroke.
“Azzi—oh my God, Azzi—”
It didn’t take long.
An oh baby slipped out one more time—loud, helpless—as her whole body arched into it, overwhelmed and aching. She broke open beneath her, pussy gushing at this point. It was a release she’d never felt before. It left her trembling, throat raw, everything too much and not enough. The orgasm hit so deep it made her chest ache.
Azzi didn’t stop until Paige was whimpering, too sensitive to breathe. Only then did she pull back, licking her lips, her face flushed and slick, eyes burning with pride and a look that beamed with love.
Afterward, they collapsed into each other, limbs heavy and hearts still racing. Azzi curled into Paige’s side, one leg draped over her thigh, her cheek pressed against her shoulder. Her fingers idly traced the curve of Paige’s stomach, still slick with sweat and softness. They lay there in silence for a long moment, just breathing.
Then, barely above a whisper, Paige asked, “Was that okay?”
Azzi let out a laugh, breathless and disbelieving, and turned her head to look at her. “Did you forget I was just screaming your name?”
Paige smiled, relief flooding her face and replied with “Alright, bighead.” There was something shy in her eyes too, something unguarded. She turned her head and pressed a kiss to the top of Azzi’s head.
Azzi lifted her head, slotting their lips together once again. This kiss was different. It was like they were finally holding something they’d been circling around for years, too precious to name before now. It wasn’t about lust or heat or need—it was just them, finally touching in the way they’d always wanted to but never said.
They kissed again. And again. Each one a little longer. A little deeper.
a/n: okay last part of this unplanned mini series! pazzi joining the mile high club. little plot, lots of smut :)
warnings: sexual content, minors DNI, NSFW
happy reading thirsty babes 💦
The plane was silent, just as early flights always seemed to be, with low lights, stale air, and people curled up in what could only be called sleep. It was just after five in the morning, and nobody had the will to talk. Not even the coaches. A cough erupted from the middle row. The rest of the noises came from the constant hum of the engines and the occasional sound of a snack bag being opened or rustled. Outside, the sky hadn't even bothered to get lighter yet.
In the very back, slouched in her seat was Paige, her hoodie pulled low over her head, her one leg bent, while her other leg stretched long into Azzi's seat, like she owned it. Her hand lay in Azzi’s lap, their fingers tangled beneath the blanket, a habit formed after years together at this point. Paige hadn’t stopped touching her since they got on the plane. Well, since they woke up this morning, really.
Azzi smiled to herself, still a little sore from the night before. Okay—more than a little. Everything still ached in the best possible way. Paige had been nothing but soft since the second they woke up. All sleepy kisses and slow hands, whispering “sorry for wrecking you” with the guiltiest grin on her face, while she helped Azzi tie her shoes and carried both their bags through the hotel lobby. Earlier, she’d even packed Azzi’s things for her, carefully folding each shirt like it might bruise if she rushed.
Paige looked half-asleep with one AirPod in, playing some music, but she knew she wasn’t tired, just relaxed. Her thumb kept stroking across Azzi’s knuckles like a metronome, rhythmic and soothing.
Azzi leaned in until her shoulder bumped Paige’s. “You tired?.”
Paige didn’t open her eyes. “Nah, not really.”
“You’re being very clingy this morning.”
Paige cracked one eye open, glanced at her, then dropped a soft kiss to Azzi’s temple. “You complaining?”
Azzi blushed and buried her face against Paige’s shoulder, trying to hide her smile. “No.”
“Didn’t think so.”
She squeezed Azzi’s hand tighter under the blanket. A quiet pause followed—soft breathing, steady warmth between them, the sound of someone snoring a few rows up. Somewhere near the front, they could hear Arike and Lala quietly whispering, laughing over something they were watching. Most of the team was knocked out—coaches included.
Paige tilted her head until it rested on top of Azzi’s. “Still sore?”
Azzi huffed a soft laugh. “Obviously.”
She felt Paige smirk before she saw it. Felt the way her body leaned in, that quiet shift like gravity pulling them closer. There was tension, yes, but it was wrapped in something tender—like Paige couldn’t decide if she wanted to tease her or kiss her again.
Azzi had other ideas in mind.
She shifted a little closer, gently untangling their hands beneath the blanket. Her fingers trailed away, slow and deliberate, then brushed lightly over the waistband of Paige’s sweatpants—teasing without warning, like she was just testing the water.
Paige froze, barely glancing down. “Az…”
Azzi didn’t look up. “You’ve been clingy all morning. I’m just… meeting you halfway.”
She dipped below the waistband without hesitation, the warmth of Paige already pulling her in. Azzi ran the pad of her middle finger along Paige’s center over her boxers with a touch that was just barely there. Paige clenched her jaw, keeping her eyes on the seat in front of her as her breathing shifted, feeling how quickly her boxers were dampening.
“We’re gonna get caught,” she whispered through a stiff smile.
Azzi nuzzled in closer, like she was just trying to get comfortable, like the sudden shift in her lap wasn’t deliberate. Her nose pressed into the side of Paige’s neck. “Only if you’re loud,” she murmured, the words light, but her hand wasn’t playing anymore.
Her fingers slipped inside Paige’s boxers. Paige’s breath caught in her throat. Azzi's fingers didn't move directly in, though she hovered there, fingertips gliding over the sensitive skin on her upper thigh, grazing her center every now and again, soft and aimless, like she didn't even know that she was already ruining Paige with intention.
Paige clenched her jaw, back stiff, trying to not respond. Trying to play it cool. And then Azzi pressed her palm flat against Paige’s clit, curling a finger up and inside her wet pussy—no warning, no build. Just knowing exactly how to do it. Paige’s hips twitched forward off instinct. She grabbed the armrest, trying to anchor herself, trying to hold on.
“Jesus,” Paige hissed as quietly as she could, trying not to move too much. “You’re gonna kill me.”
Azzi smirked into her shoulder, breath soft against Paige’s neck. “Just want to make you feel good, baby.”
Paige hesitated before answering. She was staring off into space, fixating on the back of the seat in front of her like it would give her strength not to totally fall apart. Her pulse was thumping all over her neck, her chest, her thighs, pounding against Azzi's knuckles.
She swallowed hard.
“You’re seriously gonna finger me on a team flight?” Paige muttered, voice tense.
It wasn’t just risky—it was reckless. Stupid. A bad idea that felt too good to say no to.
“Actually, I thought we could finger each other,” Azzi whispered back.
She reached for Paige’s hand, threading their fingers briefly before guiding it between her thighs, slow and steady. There was no hesitation, just that quiet confidence Azzi always wore when she had Paige exactly where she wanted her.
Paige let her, barely breathing now.
Azzi slipped Paige’s fingers beneath the waistband of her shorts, her muscles tensing just slightly at the contact. Paige’s hand slid in and stilled.
Then—heat. Wet. Immediate.
Paige gasped quietly, lips parting as if the wind had been knocked out of her. Her fingers curled instinctively, pressing into slick, soft skin that made her stomach drop.
"Jesus," she breathed, her voice barely a whisper. "You're soaked.”
Azzi tilted her head slightly, the edge of her mouth catching the ghost of a smile. “Yeah,” she breathed, not even trying to be coy. “That’s your fault, P.”
Paige groaned softly, dragging her teeth over her bottom lip. Her hand couldn’t help but keep moving—slow, gentle, rubbing careful circles that made Azzi’s breath stutter. Her thighs twitched. She turned her face into Paige’s neck, biting down on the fabric of her hoodie to keep from making a sound.
God, this was so hot—too hot. Having to keep it quiet, feeling every little shake and gasp Azzi tried not to make—it was driving her insane.
They moved in tandem beneath the blanket, all heat and friction, hands buried deep and working in a slow, stuttering rhythm. Azzi's fingers curled just right, hitting that spot that made Paige gasp and buck, her hips jerking forward—hard enough to knock her knee into the seat ahead. Paige bit down a moan, her free hand clutching the edge of the cushion like she needed something to anchor her.
Someone stirred. A grunt. A cough.
Then silence.
Paige shifted her hand slightly, Azzi’s fingers still buried deep in her. She let her own middle and ring fingers drag across Azzi’s slick cunt in short, precise motions.
One stroke. Then another. Then another.
She moved her fingers thoughtfully, tenderly, like she was writing something secret against Azzi’s skin. Each stroke careful, lingering, like a message only the two of them would ever understand.
Azzi trembled, breath catching as the pattern clicked into place.
Paige was spelling something.
N. A. U. G. H. T. Y.
By the time she got to the Y, Azzi was wrecked—hips twitching, a whimper slipping out before she could stop it. It was definitely loud enough for someone close by to hear.
Paige froze.
They heard a creak of a seat shifting.
Paige turned her head just enough to whisper in her ear, “You better keep quiet.”
“You first,” Azzi breathed, rocking her hips into Paige’s hand with a little more intention. She was not about to stop now.
Paige got the hint and continued rubbing her pussy— tighter, firmer than before. Azzi began swirling her fingers inside Paige to return the favor, making sure to hit every spot within her.
The air between them felt like it might snap. Paige couldn’t stay still—her thighs were shaking, muscles clenched tight, holding on like that might keep her from falling over the edge. Her breath was shallow and she kept cursing under her breath. Her jaw locked. She was trying to keep it together, but her body had other plans.
She was losing it—and she knew it.
“Shit, Azzi—fuck, I’m—” Paige’s voice cracked as she buried her face against her shoulder, hand twisting in the hoodie.
Azzi knew she was close. She angled her wrist and pushed in deeper, fingers curling hard, grazing against the spongy part over and over again. It was intentional, filthy, she wanted to wreck Paige. Her palm ground down against Paige’s clit with rough, practiced pressure, dragging across it in tight, brutal circles. The slick sounds of it started to rise, faint but unmistakable under the blanket—wet, obscene—but they were too far gone to care.
Azzi leaned in, her mouth brushing Paige’s ear. “You hear that?” she whispered, breath hot and shaky. “That’s you. Dripping all over my hand.”
Paige whimpered, clutching at her wrist like it would slow her down. It didn’t.
“You’re gonna come for me, aren’t you?” Azzi kept going, voice low, sharp with want. “So fucking wet—fuck, Paige, you’re so easy for me.”
Paige didn’t even flinch. She bit down hard, barely breathing, riding it out because stopping wasn’t even an option anymore. Her body snapped tight all at once—legs twitching, a sound tearing loose from her throat before she could swallow it down.
There was nothing gentle in it now. Just need. And the mess they were both making of each other at thirty-six thousand feet.
Paige came first, mouth open in a silent gasp, whole body shivering under the blanket. She pressed her forehead to Azzi’s temple and shook through it, holding her breath like it could save her.
Azzi followed seconds later. Paige’s fingers worked her through the edge, soft but relentless, and Azzi bit Paige’s shoulder to keep from crying out. Her thighs shook, clamping around Paige’s wrist. Her eyes squeezed shut.
And just like that, it was over. Breathless. Sticky. Intimate.
Neither of them moved at first. Paige’s hand still rested in Azzi’s lap, fingers slick and trembling. Azzi’s head was tucked against her shoulder, chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven pulls. The blanket felt too warm now. The air between them was thick with it—what they’d done. What they didn’t regret.
Paige blinked hard, trying to get her breathing under control, but her body was still humming. She could smell it on her fingers. Feel it clinging to her skin.
Azzi shifted first. Barely. She reached over and grabbed Paige’s coffee cup like she was going for a sip. Instead, she “accidentally” tipped it—right into her own lap.
“Shit,” she hissed, shooting upright.
Paige jumped, startled. “What—?”
“I spilled it,” Azzi said louder, waving toward the aisle. “It’s fine—just on me. I got it.”
From up ahead, Nai turned slightly in her seat. “Y’all good?”
“All good!” Azzi called back, already grabbing her bag off the floor. She stood halfway and glanced down at her soaked shorts, lifting the fabric away from her thighs with a grimace. “Spilled it straight into my lap. Gonna go clean up before it sets or smells like burnt milk the whole flight.”
She didn’t wait for a response—just slipped into the aisle, calm and unbothered, like it was nothing but bad luck and bad aim.
Paige watched her go, heart still thudding like a bass drum in her chest—loud, unrelenting, way too close to the surface. Her thighs were still trembling under the blanket. Her fingers curled slightly, like they could still feel the shape of Azzi wrapped around them.
She didn’t even try to pretend she was okay.
Azzi walked up the aisle like nothing had happened, hips swaying just enough to make Paige want to ruin her all over again. The coffee stain was spreading across her shorts, a clear mark of the mess they’d made, and the worst part was—Azzi didn’t look flustered.
She looked smug.
Holy fuck.
Paige exhaled slowly, trying to pull it together, but her body wasn’t listening. Her pulse was still out of rhythm.Her hands wouldn’t stop twitching. She felt like she was wearing the guilt of it on her face—but also, somewhere deeper, the pride.
They'd just done that. On a team flight. Surrounded by teammates. Coaches.
And Paige had let her. Had begged, in her own way.
You’re gonna get us caught.
Only if you’re loud.
God, she was so screwed.
And yet—thirty seconds later, she was on her feet. Following Azzi down the aisle like she didn’t have a choice.
The door clicked shut behind her with a soft thud. Paige stood there for a second, saying nothing, her pulse still too loud in her ears to think straight.
Azzi was already at the mirror when Paige walked in—hip cocked against the counter, like she’d been waiting. Her shorts were shoved down to her knees, thighs slick and glistening, no shame in how wrecked she still looked. She didn’t turn right away. Just lifted her fingers to her mouth, slow and deliberate, sucking them clean with a hum.
“Took you long enough,” she said, eyes meeting Paige’s in the mirror. “You taste so fucking good.”
Paige just stared at her. For a second. Maybe longer. Her brain still felt like it was catching up to what they’d done—or maybe what they were still about to do.
“You are…” Paige began, voice low and raw, “such a fucking menace.”
“I mean,” Azzi said casually, lifting an eyebrow, “I did say I needed to clean up.”
Her eyes dragged down Azzi’s legs—over the mess, the sheen, the slick shine catching in the light. Paige didn’t have words. Just a low, involuntary groan, like her brain had short-circuited from how insanely hot her girl looked right now.
Azzi smiled like she’d won something. “You gonna help me out or just stand there drooling?”
Paige nodded, dumbly, uselessly—completely gone for her.
Azzi slid her shorts the rest of the way off and let them fall—wet fabric hitting the floor with a quiet, ugly slap. Then she leaned back, bracing herself on the counter, legs parting wide, head tilted like she was daring Paige to make the next move.
Paige’s chest went tight. Hot all over again.
She didn’t move right away—just stepped in closer, slow and deliberate. Her hand grazed Azzi’s thigh, but instead of reaching between her legs, she dipped her head, tongue dragging a slow line up the coffee-sticky skin. She hummed like she was actually tasting it, then looked up with a wicked glint in her eye.
“Guess I’ll start with breakfast,” she murmured—tongue sliding through slick folds like she’d been starving for it, groaning against her like the taste alone was enough to undo her.
Azzi gasped.
“I gotta be quick,” Paige said quietly, her voice low but warm—thick with heat and care all at once. Not a threat. Not a warning. Just a fact, spoken like a promise she’d still make feel good, even if it wrecked them both.
That warmth hit against Azzi’s pussy just as hard as the words did—settling deep in her chest, even as her body tensed in anticipation. She nodded fast, breathless. “Yeah—okay. Just… just do it.”
She gripped the counter behind her, heart hammering, already aching for what was coming. Because when Paige said quick, it never meant rushed. It meant devastating.
Paige didn’t need more. Her tongue was already working her over, fast and filthy, dragging through slickness with single-minded focus. She sucked Azzi’s clit into her mouth, tongue circling in tight, ruthless patterns, moaning low like she couldn’t get enough of the taste. Her hands gripped the backs of Azzi’s thighs, fingers digging in just enough to bruise, holding her steady as she rocked against Paige’s mouth.
It was messy. Loud. Obscene. Wet sounds and broken gasps swallowed by the hum of the plane around them.
The plane flew on. Steady. Silent. Oblivious.
Paige pulled back just a breath, her mouth still hot and glistening, tongue flicking once more for emphasis before she spoke.
a/n: here is a part two per request, a little bit more build up, but a lot more smut. send reactions if you feel like it, would love to hear if you enjoyed this!
warnings: minors DNI, NSFW
happy reading horny mfs 💦
The plane was barely off the runway and Paige was already bored. Azzi sat beside her, curled up in a hoodie, headphones in, pretending not to notice Paige’s wandering hand inching along the armrest.
Paige, of course, noticed everything. Especially the way Azzi’s thigh tensed when their legs touched. Or how her jaw clenched ever so slightly when Paige whispered something obscene into her ear just before takeoff.
“I swear to God,” Azzi said through clenched teeth, eyes on her iPad but voice low enough that only Paige could hear, “you are asking for it.”
Paige just grinned, shifting closer. “You keep saying that, but I haven’t gotten it yet.”
She ran her fingers down the outside seam of Azzi’s sweatpants, slow and intentional. Azzi swatted her hand away, but her smirk gave her away. Paige figured she’d pushed things as far as she could for now. The antics would continue later tonight once they settled into their hotel room.
But then came the turbulence.
Azzi had been walking through the aisle to make her way back to her seat after talking with Lala and there was a jostle on the plane that sent Azzi lurching right into Paige’s lap with a yelp.
“Oh, hi,” Paige said, entirely too smug, gripping Azzi’s hips like she meant it.
Azzi rolled her eyes, trying to right herself, but Paige didn’t let go. So Azzi decided to join in on the game Paige had been playing all morning, grinding her ass back into her. She could feel Paige’s grip tighten.
“Damn, Az,” Paige whispered, breath warm against Azzi’s cheek. “Better quit that before I take you right here on this plane.”
Azzi flushed, but she didn’t move right away, debating whether she could get away with dragging Paige to the bathroom without anyone noticing.
Eventually, she untangled herself with a muttered, “We’re gonna get fined for public indecency.”
Paige just kicked her feet up and leaned back, still grinning. “Worth it.”
By the time they landed and got to the hotel, Paige’s patience was cooked. She’d been practically vibrating with need since the flight and had plans to give Azzi the payback she deserved.
But plans? Useless when your schedule is packed with back-to-back team meetings, media sessions, and a coach who believes in togetherness with team-only activities to build chemistry or whatever bullshit he could come up with to make it seem like he was actually coaching.
By the time Paige got back to her room, hair tousled, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion, Azzi was already gone. Meeting up with some old friends from her USA Basketball days.
Paige flopped onto her bed with a groan and reached for her phone.
Paige
Where’d you go, babe?
Azzi
Left you for people who actually respond to my texts in under an hour.
Paige
Wow. That’s crazy. I was literally in a 90-minute team meeting about ball screens 😩
Azzi
Sounds fake but okay
Paige
I would literally rather be watching paint dry.
Also you didn’t answer the question 😏
Azzi
Hotel bar.
Catching up with the girls. Being wholesome. Drinking water.
Paige
You’re lying on multiple fronts and I’ll be addressing each one in detail later
Azzi
Oh no.
What’re you gonna do, discipline me?
Paige
Don’t tempt me
Actually. Do.
Azzi
Promise?
Paige
Swear on how quick you beg when I hit that spot you love.
Azzi
Don’t act like you don’t live for it.
Paige
Already hard just thinking about it.
Azzi
You’re gross.
Paige
And you like it.
Azzi
I do.
Paige
When you getting back? I need you naked ASAP.
Azzi
I’ll be back in twenty. Don’t fall asleep on me.
Paige
Better be. I will flip you over and make you pay for being late.
But Azzi’s plan to make a quick exit didn’t happen, and by the time she got back, Paige was already in bed with the lights off. She knew that if she woke Paige up, she’d really get it, but she also knew that Paige needed her rest for the game tomorrow, so she opted for crawling into bed so as not to wake her.
***********
Game day.
The last thing Paige had time for was strapping her girlfriend down and wrecking her the way she wanted to.
No time. No privacy. No fun.
She was locked in, focused, borderline feral about needing a win.
And then she played like garbage.
Five for twenty. They lost to Chicago.
A teammate of hers, a rookie, didn’t go up for a 50-50 ball, and it snapped something in Paige. She went off in the tunnel after the final whistle, tossing her jersey at the wall, jaw locked so tight it ached. Her coach didn’t say a word—just let her storm off to the locker room.
She didn’t want sympathy. She didn’t want a hug. She wanted to be alone. Paige had texted Azzi after the game, telling her she’d just meet her back at the hotel and opting for room service instead of going to the team dinner or out with Azzi and their friends.
There was a soft knock before hearing the keycard beep and the door unlatch.
“Hey,” Azzi murmured, slipping inside. She walked in cautiously, looking way too gentle for the mood Paige was in.
“Hey Az, sorry but—I’m not in a very good mood,” Paige grunted from where she was sitting on the floor, back against the bed.
Azzi didn’t answer. Just crossed the room and sat beside her, thigh pressed to thigh. Quiet for a moment. Then she leaned in and pressed a kiss to Paige’s temple.
“I liked watching you tonight,” she said softly. “Even if you’re pissed about it.”
Paige scoffed. “What was there to like?”
Azzi shrugged, unbothered. “You did your best. Fighting for every play. Staying locked in.”
Paige leaned her head back against the wall, eyes closed, jaw tight. “Didn’t matter. We still lost.”
Azzi leaned in and pressed a kiss to her temple again. Gentle. Steady. Certain.
“You can’t carry the whole damn team,” she whispered.
“I just want to win.”
“I know.”
They sat in silence. Paige’s fists clenched in her lap. Her teeth ground together. Her leg bounced restlessly, the muscle twitching like it couldn’t bear being still. She didn’t want a pep talk. Didn’t want someone to tell her it was just one game. She didn’t want soft.
She wanted to break something. To feel control again. To not feel this.
Azzi leaned in closer, her thigh pressed to Paige’s like an anchor. Her voice dropped, velvet-smooth and laced with something darker. “Take it out on me.”
Paige stiffened. Like the words didn’t compute at first. Her head turned, slow, her eyes narrowing with a flash of warning. “What?”
Azzi didn’t flinch. Her gaze stayed fixed, unwavering, locked on Paige. “I want you to,” she said again, slower this time. “Take it out on me.”
Paige blinked, something fraying behind her eyes. She pulled her hand away, flexed her fingers like they were trying to shake off something electric. “Azzi, I’m not—” Her voice cracked, and she stopped, jaw working.
“I’m not trying to be rough with you just because I’m pissed,” she said again, quieter this time. “That’s not what this is. That’s not who I am with you.”
Azzi reached for her hand anyway. No hesitation. Her fingers slid through Paige’s, soft and sure, grounding her. She lifted their joined hands to her lips and kissed her knuckles, slow and intentional. Her voice dropped even lower—still gentle, but firm. “I want it. I like when you lose control, P.”
Paige stared at her. Eyes locked. Breathing shallow. She didn’t speak for a full ten seconds.
Then, roughly and low, “Say it again.”
Azzi’s mouth curved into the smallest, filthiest smile.
“I want you to fuck me,” she said, every word a deliberate spark.
She shifted forward until her lips brushed Paige’s ear, and whispered, voice soaked in honey and fire—“Daddy.”
That did it.
Something flickered behind Paige’s eyes—hot, unspoken, irreversible. She stood without a word, jaw clenched, and Azzi followed like it was instinct. Like she knew exactly what she’d just lit within her.
The room blurred around them. Paige moved with purpose, quiet but electric, digging through her bag. When she turned back around, harness in hand, Azzi’s breath caught in her throat.
“Strip. Then get on the bed,” Paige said, voice low and sharp.
Azzi obeyed instantly, taking her clothes off and crawling back across the mattress, body sinking into the sheets. She spread her legs without needing to be told.
Paige took her time. Let Azzi watch her undress piece by piece, slow and unhurried, like she wanted every second to sink in. She clipped in the strap: deep purple, seven inches, thick enough to be a threat, and curved just right to leave no room for doubt.
Azzi’s breath caught.
Paige adjusted the straps with muscle memory, hips flexing as she tightened them snug. The silicone jutted out confidently between her thighs, bouncing ever so slightly with every movement. She rolled her neck once, then looked up—eyes dark, jaw set, mouth twitching like she already knew what Azzi was thinking.
“You okay over there?” she asked, tone light but with an edge.
Azzi’s mouth parted, her gaze locked on the strap. “I’m so fucked.”
Paige smirked, stepping toward the bed with a slow, deliberate swagger. “Not yet.”
She climbed onto the bed, straddling Azzi’s thighs. She leaned down and kissed her—slow and deep at first, then biting her bottom lip as she pulled away.
Paige gripped the base of the silicone and brought it between them, dragging it through the slick heat between Azzi’s thighs.
Azzi gasped, hips twitching.
Paige smirked. “Already so fucking wet for me.”
She used the silicone to tease Azzi—swirling the tip in tight circles around her clit, drawing out a whimper. Then she pulled back and slapped it lightly against her, once. Twice. A third time, harder.
Azzi let out a broken moan, legs falling wider. “Fuck—Paige—”
Paige leaned in, kissed her just beneath the ear. “What was that?”
“Please,” Azzi breathed, hands gripping the sheets. “I want it so bad.”
Paige didn’t give in yet. She kept dragging the tip up and down, letting it catch, letting Azzi feel the stretch just almost before pulling back again. The straps tip was glistening from Azzi’s arousal.
“You want me to fill you, baby?” she murmured, biting at her neck. “Want Daddy to fuck you nice and deep?”
Azzi nodded frantically. “Yes—yes, please—I need it.”
There was something sweet in the way she begged—something soft hidden in all that desperation. Paige paused for half a second, pressing her forehead to Azzi’s.
“You sure?” she asked, voice steady but gentler now.
Azzi reached for her, eyes glassy. “Please, P. I need it. Now.”
That was all she needed.
Paige lined herself up, one hand steady on Azzi’s hip, the other guiding the strap to her entrance. She pushed forward slowly, letting the silicone press and stretch her open inch by inch, watching Azzi's mouth fall open, eyes fluttering shut.
“That’s it,” Paige whispered, voice rough. “Take me, baby. Just like that.”
Azzi’s nails dug into the sheets, legs spread wide, hips arching up to meet her halfway. “God—so full—”
Paige leaned over her, bracing her weight with one arm while her hips sank in deeper, slow and devastating. She didn’t rush it. She wanted Azzi to feel every second.
“You feel that?” she murmured against Azzi’s jaw. “That pussy's mine.”
Azzi gasped, hands reaching for her waist, pulling her closer. “Yours—yeah—Daddy—”
Hearing the name lit Paige up like a fuse this time.
She rocked into her, thrusts slow but deep, letting the full weight of the harness hit just right. The sound of skin against skin, the quiet wet slide of it, Azzi’s moans climbing higher with each pass—it all melted together into something hot and electric.
Paige pressed her forehead to Azzi’s, their mouths brushing between breaths.
“You look so fucking pretty like this,” Paige panted, breath hot against Azzi’s neck. “All spread out for me. Taking every inch like you were made for it.”
Azzi moaned, the sound broken and high, one hand sliding up Paige’s slick back, the other fisting the sheets like it was the only thing keeping her grounded. “Don’t stop—please—fuck—harder—”
Her pace turned brutal, thrusts carving into Azzi with precision. Paige’s fingers bit into her waist like she needed something to hold onto or she’d completely lose it.
Azzi’s head dropped back, voice cracking open. “Yes—use me—take it out on me, Daddy—please—”
Paige slammed into her harder now, her hips snapping forward with a bruising rhythm, each thrust purposeful—angry, almost, but controlled. The base of the strap rubbed hard against Azzi’s clit every time their bodies collided, the pressure relentless and perfectly placed, sending sharp jolts of pleasure straight through her.
The harness shifted with every motion, leather creaking faintly under the weight of it, the thick silicone dragging against Azzi’s soaked pussy before sinking back in, deeper and deeper.
Azzi was gasping with every impact, hips arching into it, chasing the friction even as she trembled from it. The rhythm was filthy—wet, raw, skin slapping against skin. Paige adjusted her angle slightly, grinding in at the end of each stroke, the ridge of the strap catching just right—again, and again, and again—until Azzi’s moans turned into sobs of pleasure.
“I am,” Paige snarled against her ear, her voice wrecked and low. “You wanted this, remember? You begged for it.”
Azzi cried out, body jolting with every thrust. “I wanna feel you everywhere—fuck—wreck me, Daddy—don’t hold back—”
“I’m not,” Paige gritted, grabbing a handful of Azzi’s breast and pulling her hardened nipple just enough to make her arch. “You wanted to be the outlet for this shit? Then take every inch, baby. Take it like you mean it.”
Azzi choked on a moan, her whole body shaking. “God, yes—don’t stop—make me your fuckin stress relief—”
Azzi cried out, legs wrapping around Paige’s waist, heels pressing into her back and locking her in. Her body jerked with each deep stroke, her thighs trembling.
“You close?” Paige asked, voice low and wrecked.
Azzi nodded frantically, too breathless to form words.
Paige didn’t let up. She thrust harder, rougher, keeping her rhythm tight and relentless, her own breath stuttering against Azzi’s cheek. “Come for me, baby. Right now.”
And Azzi did.
Her whole body arched, hips bucking up, mouth falling open in a broken sob of a moan. Paige didn’t stop—kept moving through it, working her through the waves until Azzi was shaking, gasping, begging her to slow down.
But Paige didn’t stop.
She pulled out slowly, eyes heavy-lidded with heat, and grabbed Azzi by the waist, flipping her over like she weighed nothing. Azzi let out a startled breath, face pressing into the sheets, ass lifted instinctively.
“Oh my God—” she gasped, voice muffled by the pillow.
Paige’s hand came down in a sharp smack across her ass—loud, stinging, perfect.
“You thought I was done?” Paige growled, leaning over her back. “Nah, baby. That was just the first one.”
Azzi moaned, hips arching toward her, the sound all high-pitched and wrecked. “You’re insane—”
“And you love it.”
Paige grabbed her by the hips again, lined the strap up, and slid back inside in one hard thrust. Azzi let out a scream that turned into a curse, knuckles white in the sheets.
She didn’t ease into it this time.
There was no buildup this time. Paige drove into her with raw momentum, one hand planted between Azzi’s shoulder blades, pressing her down into the mattress as her hips snapped forward, merciless.
“That’s it,” Paige grunted, eyes fixed on the way Azzi’s body rocked into the mattress. “Pussy taking me so well.”
Azzi was nearly incoherent now—words slurring between moans, gasps, pleas. “F-fuck—Daddy—I can’t—”
“Yes, you can,” Paige said, leaning forward, biting at the back of her shoulder. “One more for me. Come again.”
She reached around and found Azzi’s clit, fingers slick as they slid over swollen heat, rubbing tight, fast circles that made Azzi cry out, her voice raw and high. Paige didn’t ease up—she worked her in tandem with every thrust, the strap pounding into her from behind while her fingertips zeroed in with ruthless precision. Azzi’s whole body jolted, hips bucking helplessly, her thighs trembling as she sobbed into the sheets, caught between the brutal rhythm and the overwhelming pleasure crashing through her.
Her knees nearly gave out, legs shaking, but Paige held her firm, one arm locked around her middle, the other still wrecking her with perfect, merciless pressure.
Azzi’s second orgasm crashed over her—louder, messier, legs shaking as her whole body trembled under Paige’s grip.
Paige slowed only when Azzi’s breath hitched hard and her hips started to pull away.
But then—Azzi turned.
Still breathless, flushed, eyes hazy and wet, she pushed Paige onto her back, the strap still slick between them. She straddled Paige slowly, hands pressed to her chest for balance, a lazy, ruined little smirk curling her lips.
“My turn.”
Paige’s brows shot up. “You sure you can handle—”
Azzi sank down in one motion, no warning. Paige’s breath punched out of her in a groan so low it was almost a growl.
“Fuck.”
Azzi rolled her hips slow, steady, mouth open as she moaned through the stretch. “Feel that?” she whispered. “That’s you inside me.”
Paige’s hands flew to her hips, trying to ground herself, but Azzi slapped them away—gently. “Nope. You don’t get to help.”
She set the pace, bouncing in slow, filthy circles, grinding her clit down against the base. Paige’s head fell back into the pillow, jaw clenched, arms flexing to keep from grabbing her.
The way the strap dragged against her, soaked and sticky from Azzi’s slick, had her nerves firing like live wires—slow at first, then sharper with every grind. It wasn’t just the pressure—it was the sound, the weight, the heat of it all. Azzi riding her like she owned her. The harness rocked against Paige’s clit with every grind—coarse, aching pressure that only got sharper the longer Azzi rode her.
“Look at you,” Azzi whispered, dragging her nails down Paige’s ribs. “Trying so hard to behave. Such a good girl for me, Daddy.”
“Fuck,” she gasped, voice strained, every muscle strung tight. “You’re gonna make me come—”
Azzi smirked, lips parted and breathless. “That’s the point, baby.”
And then she rolled her hips just right—deep, slow, tight—dragging the base of the strap hard over Paige’s clit, and Paige’s whole body jerked beneath her like she’d been lit from the inside.
Azzi kissed her, deep and slow, swallowing the sound Paige made as she hit her breaking point.
She kept riding her through it, soft little moans slipping between kisses as Paige came hard, fingers digging into the sheets, face twisted with raw pleasure.
They stayed like that for a beat—breathless, tangled, their skin sticky and flushed.
Azzi collapsed forward, burying her face in Paige’s neck, the strap still nestled between them.
Paige wrapped both arms around her, holding her tight, the kind of grip that said don’t go anywhere.
Azzi giggled softly. “You okay?”
Paige kissed her temple. “A little better than before.”
“You’re welcome.”
They lay there, sweaty and half-laughing, legs tangled and bodies still trembling from everything they’d just given each other.
“I’m obsessed with you,” Paige murmured.
Azzi smiled against her skin. “I know. You should be.”
a/n: really short one shot i wrote of just straight smut inspired by that travel day photo 🤭 also, if it sucks, sorry... i don't know what i'm doing here, just writing out my horny thoughts lmao
The hotel bathroom was basically a sauna, steam clinging to every inch and the mirror just a blurry blob of nothing. Water hammered the tiles. Paige hunched under the spray, palms flat on the shower wall, letting the heat work its magic on her knotted muscles. What time was it? 7 a.m. maybe?
She missed the door, didn’t catch the sound of the door unlatching. She did, however, notice that tiny change in the air as the room got colder.
She knew who it was. And she didn't need to look.
Hands, warm and bold, suddenly on her waist. Azzi, obviously. Always so damn sure of herself. Her palms slid over Paige’s skin, and those lips? Yeah, right on her shoulder, like a secret or a dare. Paige let out a breath, half-laugh, half-sigh, her grin twitchy and crooked.
She leaned back into Azzi’s touch, a quiet smile playing on her lips, not even trying to hide how good it felt.
“Babe,” she murmured, voice low and teasing, “you do know we’re supposed to be downstairs in like… thirty minutes, right?”
Azzi’s voice—low, a little teasing—curled around her ear. “Guess we’ll just have to be fast, huh?”
Paige gave her a look—eyes dark, brow raised, she could already feel her resolve slipping. There was no way she was saying no to that face.
“So,” she said, voice low and rough, “you using your hands… or getting on your knees?”
Azzi laughed. Soft, but with this devilish little twist. “You’ll see.”
Paige barely got her mouth open before Azzi was already down on her knees, shower water rolling off her shoulders, hands gliding up the back of Paige’s thighs—slow, like she owned the place, which, let’s be real, she basically did. Then Azzi dipped in, mouth open, planting a kiss just above Paige’s knee.
Paige sucked in a breath. “Az…”
Azzi shot her a look, eyes glinting all mischief. “What?”
“Don’t play dumb. You know what.”
She grinned, all fake-innocent. “Just saying good morning.” Her lips trailed higher, getting dangerously close, voice all honey and trouble. “You woke up wet and I wasn’t even involved. Rude, honestly.”
Paige let out a groan, grabbing the cold shower bar with one hand and sinking the other into Azzi’s wet hair. “We seriously don’t have time for you to be a menace right now.”
Azzi just smirked against Paige’s skin. “Then let me make it quick.”
And then—her mouth was everywhere.
Every muscle in Paige’s body snapped tight. Azzi didn’t rush—she licked her like she had all fucking morning, tongue moving in slow, devastating circles, savoring every second like she was working through her favorite flavor. It was deliberate. Cruel. Almost reverent.
Paige’s hips jerked forward, chasing friction, breath stuttering out of her—but Azzi gripped her thighs and pinned her against the cold tile, rock solid. No escape. No mercy.
All slow. All lethal.
“God,” Paige gasped, voice cracked and wrecked, “this is the opposite of quick—”
Azzi didn’t answer. She just devoured her.
Like something in her snapped—restraint gone, patience torched—her tongue got sharper, faster, more aggressive. It wasn’t soft anymore; it was rough and relentless, every stroke pushing Paige closer to the edge, until her legs started to shake and her body fought to hold upright.
Paige let out a sound she couldn’t stop—half moan, half broken curse—head thunking against the wall, fingers tangled tight in Azzi’s soaked curls.
“Fuck, Az—don’t stop. Right there.”
Azzi didn’t. She buried herself deeper, every flick of her tongue meaner than the last—like she wanted to ruin her, wreck her, leave her trembling for the flight.
Paige’s voice cracked, ragged and desperate. “Feels so fucking good, baby.”
Her legs were starting to give, jaw tight, thighs shaking—barely holding it together.
Azzi pulled back suddenly, slowly, lips slick and smug. Paige let out a whiny little protest at the loss, but before she could complain further, Azzi stood and grabbed her, yanking her into a hard, messy kiss. It was all tongue and heat and teeth, Paige clinging to her like she might come undone right there.
Then Azzi reached back and flicked the water off, breathless against her mouth.
“Let’s finish this somewhere where you won’t potentially slip and fall,” she muttered with a smirk, eyes still locked on hers.
Paige didn’t argue.
She just grabbed her hand and dragged her to the bed.
They barely made it to the bed. Towels got ditched without a second thought, still dripping, skin sticking everywhere. Their mouths smashed together—messy, rough, not even trying to be gentle. Paige straddled Azzi, pinning her, kissing her like she had something to prove—like Azzi’s stupid grin needed to be erased with her mouth.
It turned filthy, fast. Deep kisses, tongues everywhere, lips already swollen and a little raw. Paige’s body just moved, grinding down, slick and flushed, both of them burning up all over again, like the shower hadn’t just left them wrecked and desperate.
Azzi’s hands slid down, grabbing Paige’s ass with a greedy squeeze, dragging her closer like she couldn’t get enough. She glanced up, hungry eyes practically black.
“Sit on my face,” she growled, voice all rough edges. “Don’t act like you don’t want to.”
Paige bit her lip, staring down at her with this look—like, yeah, she was about to ruin her all over again. “We’re seriously gonna be late.”
Azzi just grinned, cocky as hell. “You’ll come quick. You always do when you’re riding me.”
Yeah, that was it. Paige didn’t even pretend to hesitate—she just swung a leg over, straddling Azzi’s face, knees bracketing her head, one fist tangled in Azzi’s hair like she owned her.
“Mouth open,” she ordered, voice all thick and shaky.
Azzi obeyed, no teasing, just tongue out, mouth wide, eyes glued to Paige like she was starving.
As soon as Paige lowered herself, she let out this desperate little cry—honestly, it barely sounded human, and Azzi’s moan just vibrated right into her. She ate her out like she meant it, tongue working fast and tight, jaw flexing to keep up.
“Fuck—right there,” Paige whimpered, hips moving slow at first, grinding just so. “Don’t you dare stop. Stay there.”
Azzi gripped her thighs like she was never letting go, dragging her in deeper, face buried like she wanted to breathe Paige instead of air. Her tongue moved fast, relentless—then suddenly deeper—pushing inside her with slow, deliberate thrusts, fucking her with just enough pressure to make Paige’s whole body jerk.
It was filthy. Perfect.
Paige let out a sharp, helpless moan, her legs starting to buckle, hips grinding down with need. Azzi kept going, tongue working her open while her nose brushed just right against her clit—every angle calculated, every flick purposeful.
Paige’s voice cracked into messy little sounds, high and ruined, like she was falling apart one breath at a time.
“God, Azzi—don’t stop—shit—just like that—”
Paige’s hips started rolling harder, losing the beat, chasing the edge like her life depended on it. She yanked Azzi’s hair, breath coming in ragged gasps, every muscle wound up and ready to snap.
“You love this, don’t you?” Paige panted, voice all wrecked. “Love when I fuck your face.”
Azzi just groaned, low and deep, and that was it—Paige shattered, whole body snapping forward, thighs clamped tight around Azzi’s head, headboard rattling with the force of it. She just sat there, shaking like a leaf, trying to pull herself back together, lungs burning, heart pounding out of her chest.
When she finally slid off, Paige just flopped next to Azzi, totally wiped out, chest heaving like she'd just run a marathon instead of... well, you know. Azzi wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, eyes gleaming, smirk lazy and satisfied like she’d just won something.
“Told you you’d come fast.”
Paige rolled her eyes so hard they might’ve gotten stuck. Still gasping, she managed a, “You’re the worst.”
Somehow, they got dressed in like sixty seconds flat. Paige in her go-to WNBA travel sweats, hair yanked back into a low bun, looking all business except for the faint afterglow. Azzi went with a matching blue sweatsuit, of course. Girl had taste.
Paige snatched her duffel, crammed a protein bar in her mouth, chewing like she was racing the clock. Meanwhile, Azzi was at the mirror, phone out, already in selfie mode.
“Get in here,” Azzi called, like it was a command.
Paige just rolled her eyes again, took another chomp off the protein bar, and tossed the rest on the dresser. She slid in next to Azzi, draped an arm over her shoulder, her head leaning against Azzi’s like it belonged there.
Snap.
Before Azzi could even check the pic, Paige turned, pressed a quick kiss to her cheek. Then, with a shit-eating grin, she winked and gave Azzi a solid smack on the ass.
“Come on,” Paige said, glancing back with a smirk as she grabbed her duffel. “We gotta go… but later? You’re definitely getting payback.”
Azzi leaned in, biting back a grin. “Only if you’re using the strap.”
݁summary. paige is starving—for you. includes. 7.6k words. sexual content. descriptions of blood. links. my masterlist. a/n. i don't know how to feel about the ending butttt anyways happy freaktober
PAIGE BUECKERS is a vampire. There's no sugarcoating, no pretty words to soften it, no filter that makes it less grotesque than it is. It's a fact, like the sun setting in the East or her heartbeat being silent now. She is a vampire. She didn't ask for it, didn't pray for it, didn't even know it was real until it was already inside her veins. It had been violence before it was clarity: waking up changed, skin colder, vision sharper, hunger gnawing through her throat as if it had claws. She had been lost then, terrified, stumbling through the night like the world had tilted on its axis and abandoned her. She'd killed—just once. That one singular mistake that she drags behind her ribs like a disease. Blood so sweet, so unbearably good, that she wanted more even as she sobbed over the body cooling beneath her.
She swore to herself then that she would never do it again. That the line would be drawn, teeth clenched, mouth shut. Animals—deer, foxes, rabbits, whatever she could catch that kept her alive but didn't carry guilt in its eyes. It's dull, watered-down, like drinking from a cup with a crack in the bottom—you never feel full, but at least you don't drown in shame. Human blood, though... she still dreams of it sometimes, the metallic heat coating her tongue, the way her body felt electric with it, like everything in the world was suddenly brighter. But she'd rather starve than take another innocent life, not keen on letting herself become a monster again.
And she's been good. Self-control, in Paige's case, has been something she's worn like a second skin. She practiced it, perfected it, made it into a sport, the way she does with everything else. No slip-ups, no close calls. Just discipline, hunger neatly caged behind the bars of her will.
Until three days ago.
Another fact: you are Paige's best friend. You, with your laugh and your stubbornness, your touch that lingers without meaning to. You, who's never looked at her like she's strange or otherworldly, because you don't know. You met her after she had turned, and still—somehow—you fit. The two of you clicked, effortlessly, as if the universe was reaching out to make it up to her for everything it had taken away. You became her anchor when she was sure her ship was being swept away.
And then, somewhere between nights spent on your couch and the soft cadence of your voice saying her name, Paige realized she was in love with you. It lived in her chest like a splinter at first, sharp and small, easy to ignore if she pressed hard enough on the wound. She thought she could carry it quietly, let it remain unspoken, let you stay within reach but not in her grasp.
But then three days ago, you kissed her—and Paige's entire world collapsed inward.
She hadn't expected it, your mouth on hers, your tongue brushing along the seam of her lips like fire and salt and a promise she never thought she'd be given. It had been one second, maybe two, but it carved her open. Because, suddenly, all she could think about was want. Not the polite want of a crush, not the gentle ache of just friendship—this was hunger, pure and suffocating. She wanted everything. To devour you, to strip you, to lay you bare in every way a body can be bare. To keep you pressed against her, trembling and crying her name, until she knew you were hers. She wanted to sink her fangs into your neck, taste your blood, rushing and alive, feel the hot flood of it fill her mouth until the hunger silenced. She wanted you more than she wanted control, more than she wanted her vows, more than she wanted her own fucking salvation.
But because she is good—because she's Paige, even like this—she pushed you away. Stumbled back, lips tingling, fangs aching, heart screaming. She left your apartment without a word, because if she stayed another moment she was certain she'd lose herself.
She hasn't spoken to you since.
She hasn't stopped wanting since.
It's gnawing at her, clawing through her chest, sinking into her throat until every swallow burns. She hasn't fed this week; she doesn't think she can. The thought of chasing a deer, sinking her teeth into something wild and shaking, makes her stomach turn. It won't be enough—not anymore. Not even she can still taste the memory of your kiss, feel the ghost of your pulse beneath her lips.
Tonight is the first night she comes to your apartment without you knowing.
She tells herself it's just a one-time thing, a mistake, that she's weak and lonely and half-dreaming—but that doesn't stop her from slipping the window open with a careful hand and sliding inside, soundless as a shadow. The moment she lands in the dark of your bedroom, the air changes. The scent of you clogs her nose, seeps into her mouth, into her lungs, until she thinks she might choke on it. It's immediate, overwhelming, like the atmosphere itself bends towards you, and Paige nearly drops to her knees because of it. Sweet—so fucking sweet. A saccharide stitched with salt and skin and heat, an aroma so sharp it feels like a blade dragging down Paige's throat. She bites down hard, not with fangs but with jaw, grinding her teeth together, trying to quiet the groan clawing up her chest.
You're asleep, oblivious. It's late, around two in the morning. You're laying on your side, mouth slightly parted, breath pulling in and out rhythmically. Your cheeks are flushed, pink from the blood thrumming just beneath, veins humming in soft harmony. Your tank top has twisted p in your sleep, baring a thin strip of stomach between the cotton and the waistband of your sweatpants. Paige's eyes snag on that glimpse of skin like a hook. She wants to press her mouth there, wants to let her tongue drag slow and reverent across you, then sink her teeth in. Just enough to taste, to flood her starving body with what she's denied herself.
She squeezes her fists at her side until her knuckles ache, because the want—the need—is unbearable.
She knows this is insane—trust her, she knows. She's been holding herself together for months, playing human, walking campus like she belongs, trying to keep her life what it was before. The only true strangeness is the nights she disappears into the woods, stalking deer through moonlight just to keep herself alive. Alive, or something like it. Not dead, but also not human. A liminal space she's tried to carve a life out of. She's been good at it, disciplined.
And yet, here she is, standing in the dark, watching her best friend sleep.
Not just her best friend—her person. The one who made her feel like she could be tethered again, that maybe she wasn't damned entirely. You are the center she orbits, even if you don't know it. And it's wrong. It's so fucking wrong to be here, to hover over you with hunger gnawing through her insides like a parasite. But it doesn't stop her. She wants you more than she wants the goodness she's been clinging to. More than she wants the thin righteousness of her animal diet.
So, she stays. She watches. She breathes you in until her stomach cramps and her fangs dig into her own gums, and then she leaves before dawn bleeds across the sky.
The next night, she comes back.
And the night after that.
It becomes ritual, routine. Paige slips into your room when by the time she knows you're sleeping, silent as a ghost, heart screaming in her chest despite the fact it doesn't beat anymore. She watches the soft rise and fall of your breathing. She stares at your lips and remembers the press of them against hers, the way it detonated something inside her. She listens to the sound of your pulse beneath your skin, every throb a drumbeat driving her closer to the edge.
Each night, her resistance frays thinner. She doesn't touch you, but she wants to. She can picture it too clearly: how your skin would give beneath her teeth, how the rush of heat would flood her mouth, how you would taste. She leaves each dawn more hollow, more frenzied, bloodlust and longing coiling together until she can’t tell them apart anymore.
During the days, she hides from you, dodging your texts and avoiding your calls. She crosses the streets if she sees you on campus. Because, if she looks at you in daylight, she’s terrified she’ll see her own desire mirrored in your eyes and lose what’s left of her restraint.
Tonight is no different than the other nights, back in your room, watching. Her body is a hollow cathedral now, echoing with hunger so old and deep it feels like it was carved into her bones before she was born. It's been nearly two weeks since she's fed—too long. Her senses are fraying at the edges, colors blurring, sounds dimming: what had once been an orchestra of heartbeat and breath and scent is now just a muted hum. Her gums throb where her fangs rest, dull pain like needles pressing outward. Her throat feels scorched, sandpaper and ash, and every swallow scraps like broken glass.
She stands in the corner of your room like a shadow trying to hold its shape. Even starving, she can smell you—sweet and warm and salt-soft. She tells herself she’s strong, that she can stand here and not move, can watch without taking. It’s what she’s been whispering to herself every night: don’t move, don’t touch, don’t ruin this.
You've pushed the blankets down in your sleep. Tonight, you're only in a t-shirt and panties, legs curled, skin bare to the cool air. The sight of your thighs stops Paige's breath like a fist around her throat. Wants. Wants. Wants. It's endless.
She's so weak now that she doesn't feel you stirring until it's too late.
The sound of you waking is quiet, just a change in your breathing, a shift of fabric, but Paige misses it, senses dulled from starvation. And then you're sitting up, eyes wide, staring directly at her.
"Paige?" Your voice is low and hoarse from sleep, and then sharper, cutting through the dark like a cleaver. "What the fuck?"
Paige stills.
You're staring at her like she's a stranger, like she's some nightmare that crawled into your room. She can see the anger blooming in your face, confusion hardening into something more jagged.
"What are you doing here?"
Paige's mouth opens but nothing comes out, her mind blanking. She could vanish—she could be out the window in a rush of motion so fast your eyes wouldn't even catch it. But you've swung your legs over the side of the bed, moved closer without even realizing it, and she's rooted to the floor. She can't leave; her body refuses.
"Paige, what the fuck are you doing here?" you repeat, louder now, voice shaking with something that sounds like a mixture of fury and disbelief.
If she were you, she'd be furious, too.
"I'm sorry," she says stupidly. It comes out like a croak, dry and cracked, the hunger burning her throat absolutely raw.
You scoff, eyes narrowing. "Really? You're sorry? You don't talk to me for weeks, and then you show up in my room watching me while I sleep like some stalker, and you're sorry? I mean, how the hell did you even get in?"
Paige stares at you, the questions crashing against her like waves. She feels them hit and still can't move, can't blink. She's ware of every detail of you—the flush of your cheeks, the pulse hammering in your throat, the way your hands clutch the edge of the mattress as you stand. The scent of your blood is everywhere.
She wants to run. She wants to confess. She wants to crawl to you and beg forgiveness. All of it knots in her chest until she can barely breathe, not that she technically needs to.
You've stepped closer in your anger, and Paige steps back automatically. But all that's behind her is wall—cold plaster against her back, immovable. There's nowhere else to go. The space between you shrinks and shrinks, and she feels it like a tightening noose, like the walls of her own self-control closing in. She watches your expression shift as you get closer, your eyes adjusting to the dark, seeing her properly for the first time.
"Paige," you say slowly, the sharp edge of your anger softening, some thread of worry woven into it now. "You look sick."
Paige shakes her head, trying for something dismissive, but it comes out fractured and brittle. "I'm fine," she says, the words a clear lie.
But, nevertheless, you keep coming closer, every inch like a knife. The scent of your blood grows stronger, a warm and pulsing perfume that fills the room and seeps into her bones. Her body screams with it. She wants you. She wants to fold herself into you and press her mouth against your skin and drink until the hunger is quiet. She wants to push you away, slam herself through the window, disappear into the night and never come back. Both wants burn inside her at once.
"Jesus, Paige," you murmur, eyes scanning her face. "You're even paler than usual. Your lips are all cracked. And your eyes are, like... black."
You reach for her arm, and Paige pulls back before she can stop herself—too fast, faster than she's ever moved in front of you. Faster than anyone human could. Her arm jerks away like you're fire, like she's been burned, and she sees the flicker in your eyes, something confused and curious.
"Be honest with me," you say firmly. "What's going on?"
Paige is practically shaking now. She can't look at you; she drags her gaze away, focusing on the wall instead, a chipped corner of paint, anything but the raw closeness of your face. She stares until her vision blurs. When it comes, her voice is small and wrecked, almost pitiful. "You'll hate me."
You sigh deeply. "Paige, I won't—" you say softly. "I'm mad at you right now, but I could never hate you. I thought that me kissing you was enough to prove that. If anything, you're the one who hates me. You just... ran away and stopped talking to me."
Your tone has shifted, sadness bleeding into it, and Paige's eyes slide back to you because she can't not. She's drawn to your voice like gravity, like tidewater, like something she'll never be free of. You're standing there in front of her, eyes bright in the dimness, cheeks still flushed from sleep. She wants to reach for you, to gather you into her arms and say she's sorry, to bury her face in your neck and breathe you in. But she doesn't trust herself, so her hands stay at her sides, trembling.
"I don't hate you," she says, shaking her head. It's the only truth she's even certain of—she loves you more than maybe you'll ever know.
"Then what is it?" you ask, and now your voice is close to pleading.
The dam bursts before Paige can stop it. Words crash from her mouth, sharp and jagged, years of silence breaking apart all at once.
"I'm not what you think I am." Her voice is low, strained, scraped raw from disuse and lack of blood. "I've been trying so hard to fight it, but it's—it's in me, and it doesn't let go." She feels the confession curdle in her throat. "I'm a vampire."
The word hangs between you, ugly and irrevocable.
She wants to take it back instantly, to claw the letters out of the air before they can reach your ears, but she can't. You've heard her. Your eyes flicker with something—fear, disbelief, a horror she deserves. She braces herself for it, body tightening against the inevitable recoil, the way you'll look at her and finally see the monster.
But you don't move. You stay still there, staring and waiting for more, probably an explanation.
"I've tried," Paige breathes. "Every night, every day—I've starved myself because I don't wanna hurt you. I'm—I'm in love with you. I've been in love with you for so long I don't even remember what it feels like not to be. And when you kissed me..." Her voice shatters on the memory. "That's what I've been wanting. But I wanted more. I wanted... everything. You, your blood. I want it so bad it feels like it's fuckin' tearing me apart."
Her throat is burning now, every word scraping against the sandpaper dryness. She feels like she’s confessing to murder, like each syllable is a nail in the coffin of whatever the two of you had before tonight. “That's why I've been staying away; I can't trust myself. And I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I wish I could change it, but I can’t. And all I’ve been doing is starving because all I want is you.”
Her voice dies out. The silence that follows is heavy, pressing everywhere, suffocating. She can't even look at you—her eyes drop to the floor, to the shadows in the wood grain, anywhere but the betrayal she knows must be on your face. She has ripped herself open in front of you, shown you the rotting, bloodstained thing she is, and she knows you'll turn away.
But when she forces herself to glance up, you're not recoiling. You're staring at her like she's split you down the middle, like you don't know whether to kiss her or run for your life.
Your voice comes halting, small. "When did you—when did you become—?"
"Freshman year," Paige says, because it's easier to tell the truth than keep drowning in half-truths. "Before I met you."
You nod slowly, gaze falling to the floor, and Paige's chest caves at the sight. That's it. This is the moment you'll step back. You'll tell her she's disgusting, that you can't look at her the same. She almost begs you to just do it, to spare her the agony of waiting.
But then your eyes find hers again, and instead of stepping back, you're stepping closer.
Paige holds her breath. The air feels too thick, the walls too close. She tells herself to run, to vanish, to disappear through the window before this becomes unbearable. She doesn't.
Your hands are on her face now. Warm, soft, human. You cup her cheeks like she's not cold marble, like she's not a predator who could kill you in a heartbeat. Her body goes rigid, panic and hunger and love colliding violently inside her.
Every nerve in Paige's body screams danger. Your pulse is a drumbeat in her ears, your mouth a sun against her skin, and the scent of you—God, it's overwhelming, thick in her throat, flooding every single one of her senses. She tells herself not to breathe because every breath is temptation, every inhale is rough against her restraint.
Still, beneath the hunger, beneath the trembling terror of hurting you, there's something deeper. The love that's been swelling, breaking her ribs from inside, every time she's seen you laugh, every time she's listened to you rant about the world, every time she's felt the brush of your hand against hers and had to pretend it meant nothing. That love is louder than the hunger, even now.
"Paige, I love you."
The words hit her harder than maybe anything ever has.
You're shaking, but your voice is steady enough to cleave Paige in two. "I—I don't care that you're a... vampire. I want you, and..." You trail off, eyes flicking down to her mouth, and Paige's entire body goes rigid.
You're leaning in, slowly and hesitantly, like you're giving her every change to pull away this time. But Paige won't.
The first brush of your lips against hers is almost unbearable in its gentleness. Paige goes utterly still, terrified of breaking it, terrified of giving in to the ravenous part of her that wants more, always more. She's kissed you once before, but this is different. This is the truth, entirely unveiled, your hands on her, your mouth open for her, your body so close.
It's everything she's ever wanted—and the most dangerous thing in the world.
Her lips part against yours and she kisses you back, trembling, her restraint stretched to the thinnest thread it's ever been. What began as a soft brush of lips becomes a slow, molten pull, heat rising. Your mouth opens more against hers, and Paige answers, tongue sliding against yours, deeper, wetter, so alive. She tastes you—not blood, just you—and it's dizzying. Her hunger thrashes against its cage, but she keeps her focus tight, narrowed down to the part of her that wants you for you, not for what runs in your veins. That tiny flicker of humanity she's managed to hold onto all this time is the only thing keeping her upright.
Your body starts to shift, walking backward as you pull her, guiding her with your mouth still on hers. She goes willingly, moving with you, letting herself be led until the back of your legs hit the edge of the bed and you sink down. She follows you, mouth never leaving yours, forcing her fangs to stay hidden, a white-knuckled grip inside her gums. The pressure of it aches, but she refuses to let them slip.
You fall back against the mattress, hair spilling across the pillow, and Paige ends up above you, braced on one hand so she doesn't crush you. She's careful, because you're human, so much more fragile than her, and the last thing she wants to do is harm you.
Your hands slide over her back, fingers catching on the hem of her shirt, nails grazing the planes of her shoulder blades. One of her hands finds the back of your bare thigh, warm skin beneath her palm, the other gripping the sheet next to your head so hard it nearly tears.
And then she pulls away, because she has to. Her mouth is watering too much, her throat closing up around the starvation. She turns her head so she doesn't have to see you, so you don't have to see the hunger in her eyes. "I can't..." she mumbles, voice rough and breaking, shaking her head like it might clear the fog. "I can't."
Her chest feels like it's spitting. She's so close to everything she's ever wanted and yet she can't have it, not like this. She's been starving for two weeks, and now the scent of you is everywhere, saturating the air, and she's terrified of what she'll do if she keeps going.
Your hand moves up her back, slow and soothing, sliding under her shirt until your palm is pressed to her skin. It's a small, steadying touch, but it cracks something open in her. Paige shakes, trying to memorize every second of your warmth before she loses it.
Your other hand rises, gentle but sure, fingers at her jaw. You turn her face back toward you until she has to look at you. Paige's eyes flicker wildly between yours and your throat; she can see your pulse beating beneath your skin, and it's killing her. She's fighting her instincts with everything she has left.
"Paige," you say slowly, softly, "you're hungry."
She swallows hard and nods, feeling the weight of shame. She doesn't want to admit it, but it's written everywhere. She's starving, and she hates herself for it.
And then you do something she doesn't at all expect.
You reach down, fingers gripping the hem of your t-shirt, and peel it over your head, leaving you in nothing but a bra and panties, a matching set of fucking red. Paige's mouth waters in a different way at the sight—the soft rise of your tits in lace, the warm skin of your stomach, the shape of you laid out beneath her. Her hunger shifts, doubling back on itself, blood and arousal tangled together in a knot she can't pull apart.
Then, you tilt your head, just slightly, exposing the line of your neck, the delicate thrum of your pulse. It's a gesture so intimate and reckless Paige nearly shakes you for it. She wants to call you stupid, wants to tell you to stop, to cover yourself, to run. Because this is dangerous, and you're precious, and she's a monster even if she's tried not to be.
"I'm here," you say, sure. "You want my blood, right?"
Paige doesn't nod. She just stares, mouth slightly open.
"I trust you."
The words land like a blow. Paige feels them ripple through her body, shaking loose every stone she’s built around herself. You trust her. Even after everything she’s confessed, after what she’s shown you, you still trust her.
She wants to say no. She wants to tell you that you don’t know what you’re offering, that she could drain you dry before she even realizes it. She wants to tell you she’s not safe. But your heartbeat is there, steady and sweet, your scent in her lungs, your skin flushed and waiting beneath her hands. And she’s starving.
Her head drops forward until her forehead touches yours, eyes squeezed shut like she’s praying. “You don’t understand,” she whispers, voice cracking like glass. “You don’t know what you’re giving me.”
"I do," you whisper softly. You lean in, brushing your lips against hers again.
Paige responds, her mouth opening, tongue probing, searching, pressing insistently against yours. It's wanting, all consuming, and Paige lets herself sink into it. She grips your thigh, just above your knee, pressing closer, urging you. You respond, helping, sliding your legs open for her without hesitation, trusting her, giving her everything she's been craving in tiny, trembling slices for so long. Paige can feel your pussy, can feel the slick coating her fingers as she slides lightly over the red lace of your underwear, and a groan rumbles out of her throat against your mouth.
She tilts her head, moving her other hand to cup your jaw gently, lifting it, angling herself for better access, tongue deep in your mouth. Hunger thrums through her bloodstream, not just the hunger she's been starving from the lack of blood, but the need for you, to touch you, to please you, for that raw, perfect human vulnerability you offer her.
Her fingers begin to circle lightly over your clothed clit, testing, teasing, brushing against your slick warmth, and the sigh you release into her mouth is like a drug. Paige can feel it coiling in her stomach, twisting through her like liquid fire. Your hand dips down, helping, pulling your underwear down, and Paige follows immediately, tossing the fabric aside and letting her fingers return to the bare, slick folds she's been dying to touch. You moan, a soft and shaky sound that makes her stomach clench and her throat burn.
Paige pulls back slightly from your mouth, letting her lips trail along your jaw, teasing at your skin, nipping lightly at the hollow of your neck. She hovers there, fangs painful in her gums, pressing forward as if they want to make the leap.
You tilt your head once more, giving her access, murmuring, "It's okay. Just be careful."
She wants to tell you to stop, wants to pull away and beg you to cover yourself, to run, to protect yourself from the monster she has become. But she doesn’t. Because you trust her. Because you love her. And the thing she’s been starving for—the thing she’s denied herself to protect you—is here, palpable, electric, right in front of her, trembling, soft, warm, human, alive.
Her hands tighten on your thighs, sliding upward, brushing over every curve she can reach, memorizing it in real time, mapping your body with the delicate precision of someone who has been longing for this for years. She groans again, low and ragged, and it vibrates against your skin as her lips trail lower along your neck, teasing, tasting, never biting.
Until she does.
Gently, she sinks her fangs into the soft hollow of your throat. You've offered yourself willingly, and you trust her, and she loves you, and so she vows to be careful. The coppery warmth hits her tongue, a burst of life she hasn't felt in days. It's heady, intoxicating, and better than any animal blood she's forced herself to endure.
Her fingers, slick now with your arousal, slide inside you at the same time, pumping slowly. She traces the contours of your wet cunt, feeling your walls clamp around her, tight and hot and perfect. She groans softly against your skin, lips brushing over the pulse she's drinking and she can hear your soft whimper, a sound that mixes exquisitely with the taste of you.
Your hips begin to thrust up into her hand, an instinctive motion, and Paige leans forward just a fraction, adjusting so that her mouth can drink more, tasting your blood in waves. One of your hands moves to the back of her head, holding her still to your neck. Paige responds immediately, pumping her fingers inside you harder, feeling your blood slide down her throat, hit her stomach, spread through her veins. She shivers violently, the ache in her bones, the emptiness in her gut, the dry rasp in her throat all melting away, leaving only fire, only hunger met and warped into pleasure.
Paige feels herself teetering on the edge of losing control entirely, every nerve ending in her body ablaze with sensation, every instinct screaming for more, more, more. Her fingers pump inside you with a frantic rhythm, slick and warm, matching the desperate thrusting of your hips. She can feel the blood pulsing beneath your skin at her lips, so close, so tantalizing, so impossibly sweet—and the monster in her roars, the raw hunger clawing at the edges of her reason.
She tells herself she has to stop. That you're human and fragile and she can only go so far. But the taste of you, the heat of you, the slick wet warmth of your body beneath her fingers—Paige finds she can't. Every second spent drinking from your neck, every brush of your pulse against her tongue, every sigh and whine you release chips away at her restraint until it feels like nothing can hold her back.
And then, as if summoned by some deeper, stronger part of her heart, Paige thinks of you—really thinks of you—not as a source of sustenance, not as prey, but as you. The girl she's in love with, the girl she wants in every way imaginable, the girl who trusts her so completely, so utterly, that it you're letting her feed from you. Somehow, Paige gathers every scrap of willpower and focus left to her. She leans up, detaches her mouth from your neck, and kisses you fully, desperately, her bloody tongue tangling with yours, and it’s messy and wet and consuming, but somehow grounding. You let out a small whine, a tiny, pitiful sound that makes her shiver in both guilt and pleasure.
Paige pulls her lips back just enough to mumble against your skin, still moving her fingers inside you with careful insistence. “You taste so good. So good. Thank you, baby,” she whispers, her voice hoarse and ragged, the words tasting like sin on her tongue.
Your breath hitches and you nod, barely able to speak, murmuring, “Keep going.”
That’s all she needs. Paige presses her forehead to yours briefly, swallowing hard, before leaning in again, kissing you, tasting the sweat, the heat, the pulse of you. Slowly, she starts to crawl downward, her fingers still pumping inside you, still slick, still wet with your arousal. Her gaze is fixed on the way your body responds, the way your thighs clamp around her hands, the way your cunt swallows her digits greedily, and it twists her stomach in a delicious agony.
She lowers her lips to your inner thigh first, planting soft kisses, nipping lightly, tasting your skin, and then she can’t resist. A tiny bit of blood rises where her teeth scrape through, metallic and sweet, and she tastes it, groaning softly against you. You cry out, a little shiver of pain mingled with pleasure.
Then, with a whisper of her lips and a flick of her tongue, she moves to your clit, her mouth wet and warm, her tongue teasing and tracing, licking and sucking in a rhythm that has you writhing beneath her. The taste hits her senses like fire. It’s not just arousal, not just sweetness, not just your blood anymore. It’s a perfect, intoxicating, heady mix of both that threatens to drag her under completely. Paige moans into you, fingers still pumping, still steadying, still worshiping, and for the first time in days, she feels the hunger and the love and the lust swirl together into something that is almost unbearable in its intensity—but also perfect and good.
Paige keeps moving, her tongue sliding over the swollen, slick folds of your pussy while her fingers pump inside you, curling, pressing, moving in ways that make your walls clamp and tremble around them. She groans low in her throat, the sound muffled against your skin as she drags her tongue from your entrance up to your clit again, sucking lightly. The blood from her bite still coats her lips, mingling with your slick, and the flavor is intoxicating, heady and sweet and salty.
"Shit, P, so good," you whine, and it makes her heart stutter.
Paige curls her fingers in a come hither motion, the tips hitting a deep spot, and you arch into her, moaning. "Like that?" she asks, lips quirking as she glances up at your face.
"Mhm," you manage weakly, hands tangling in her hair.
Paige buries her face deeper, dragging her tongue along you, sliding up from your folds to flick lightly at your clit and then sucking the bundle of nerves into her mouth, cheekbones sucking in. A streak of red catches her attention, and her stomach clenches in a delicious way—the tiniest bead of blood from where she grazed you mixes with your slick. She tastes it instinctively, the coppery tang hitting her tongue, and it makes her groan, harsh and wet. “Fuck, baby… so good. Doin' so good,” she murmurs, breathless, pulling her face slightly back to look at you, seeing the flush on your skin, the gloss in your eyes, the way your hips lift and press against her mouth.
"I'm—" you manage before you gush, leaking out of your cunt, all across Paige's hand. Paige holds you through it, tasting you as your orgasm hits, your hips jerking uncontrollably against her face and fingers.
Paige crawls back up your body, chest pressing lightly against yours, lips brushing over yours in soft, careful kisses. Your sigh against her mouth sends a shiver through her, and she whispers, almost reverently, “You did so perfect. God, you’re just… so perfect.”
Your chest rises and falls, still a little breathless, eyes half-lidded and watching her with awe and something else. She glances down, and her heart twists again. The bite mark on your neck is still leaking a little, a small crimson ribbon glinting against your skin. Not too bad, she thinks, but enough that it hurts her to see. She looks at the one on your thigh as well, a matching drop of blood seeping through, and her chest tightens. She can’t stand the thought of you hurting, even this little.
Paige cups your cheek with one hand, holding your gaze. “This… might be weird, okay?” she murmurs. “I need you to roll with it, because it’ll…” Her words falter, breath catching in her throat as she drags her fingers lightly over the bite mark on your neck. You flinch slightly, a tiny gasp, and she leans closer, brushing her forehead against yours. “…it’ll help this.”
Your brow furrows slightly, curiosity flickering in your gaze. Paige swallows hard and lifts her own wrist to her mouth, her fangs grazing the delicate skin, drawing a little of her own blood. Her heart hammers as she watches your reaction, then, careful, deliberate, she tilts her wrist toward your lips, holding the back of your head gently but firmly. “Drink, baby."
YOU DO as Paige asks. Her wrist hovers in front of your mouth like an offering, trembling slightly in her own grip, and you wrap your fingers around it before your lips close over the small wound. The taste hits you immediately—warm, rich, metallic but somehow sweet at the same time, nothing like the coppery tang you imagined. It’s almost like warm honey with an edge, a strange dark wine sliding over your tongue, and it makes your head spin.
It’s all a little odd. You still can’t quite believe this is happening—Paige, your best friend—is a vampire. You let her feed on you, and fuck you while she did so. And now here you are, drinking her blood like it’s the most natural thing in the world. A part of you wants to laugh, but another part, the deeper, darker part, is almost drunk on how good she tastes.
Your eyes roll back a little as you drink, an involuntary shudder running through you. Your grip on her wrist tightens, pulling her a little closer as if you could drag more of that taste from her, and you feel her fingers slide up into your hair. Paige’s nails scratch lightly at your scalp. “Good girl,” she murmurs softly above you, voice low and reverent, “drink up.”
The sound of her voice—low, rough, affectionate—makes your stomach flip. You drink a little more, swallowing slow, and then eventually, with some effort, you pull away. Your lips are sticky with her blood, your tongue darting out instinctively to lick the last bit from the corner of your mouth. When you open your eyes, hers are waiting for you, and the sight stops you cold. They’re not black anymore, not wild and endless the way they were before all of this. They’re back to their normal icy blue, clear and bright, like a frozen lake at dawn. It makes you feel safer immediately; it means she’s not starving anymore.
You reach up, sliding your hand behind her neck, pulling her back down to kiss you. She nods against your mouth, sighing into the kiss, and you can’t help but grin slightly against her lips. Her tongue flicks against yours, and you feel her body shift over you, a slow grind of her hips against yours that makes a low sound catch in your throat. That’s when it hits you—how unfair this is. You’re essentially naked, your bra the only thing still clinging to your skin, while Paige is still fully clothed, looming above you like some dark, gorgeous contradiction.
Your fingers trail up her sides, over the thin cotton of her t-shirt, and you hook them at the hem before tugging it upward. She breaks the kiss to help you pull it off, the fabric sliding up over her head and landing somewhere on the floor. You’re pleasantly surprised that she’s not wearing a bra underneath. The sight of her bare chest above you makes your breath hitch, and you run your palms up over her ribs, feeling her skin warm from feeding.
Paige grins down at you, a flash of teeth, no fangs, just her normal, gummy smile, and kisses you again. Her mouth is hungrier than before, but different—less desperate, more sure. You moan into it, hips shifting under hers, and she starts to push at the waistband of her sweatpants, shoving them down. The sound of fabric sliding over her hips is quiet but electric in the small space. Her boxers follow, dragged down over her thighs until she’s as bare as you are, skin to skin now.
The moment feels charged, like the air is heavy with heat and something older, darker. Her thighs settle between yours, her skin slick against your inner legs, and the closeness makes your head spin again, but differently than the blood did. She’s right there, straddling you, bare chest against your bra, mouth pressing kisses down your jaw as you run your hands up her sides, over her back, nails dragging slightly at the small of her spine.
“Paige,” you whisper into her mouth, the sound more a sigh than a word. She tilts her head, kissing you deeper, one of her hands sliding down your hip to your thigh, gripping it possessively. There's no longer a bite mark on it, healed away by Paige's blood.
Paige pulls back just enough to look at you, her icy blue eyes flicking over your face like she’s memorizing it. Her thumb brushes your lower lip, smearing a faint trace of her blood there, and then she leans in to kiss it away. “You have no idea,” she murmurs, voice low and almost shaking, “how much I want you right now.”
You hum and then she shifts slightly, and the first brush of her slick, cold pussy against your heat makes you shiver. The contrast—the icy chill of her skin against the fire in your core—is almost unbearable, and your thighs instinctively squeeze against hers. She lets out a low groan as your wetness meets hers, and it’s like electricity, a jolt straight through your body that makes your pulse stutter.
She leans down to kiss you, slow at first, teasing, letting her tongue flick into yours, and you arch into her, whining softly. Her hands slide up your sides, over your ribs, pressing you flat against the mattress, holding you steady as she grinds down into you. The pressure is deliberate, hot, intoxicating, and the friction sends sparks up your spine, making you gasp and tilt your head back.
“Mm, so good,” Paige murmurs, voice low, rough with need, teeth brushing the shell of your ear. “So wet and warm f'me.” Her hips rock in slow, measured circles, teasing the edge of you over and over, and you can feel every glide of her slick, cold flesh against your cunt.
You clutch at her hips, pulling her closer, urging her, and she responds immediately, grinding harder, faster, letting a low, needy whimper escape her throat.
“Paige, baby, yes…” you sigh, rolling your hips up against hers, wanting more, needing more, feeling her grind through every nerve ending. She hums against your mouth, licking your jaw and neck in small, hot little nips as her thighs circle and press, keeping your pussies perfectly bumping.
She bites her lip, eyes glinting, and murmurs, “God, baby…wanted this for so long. My perfect girl, shit." Her hands squeeze your hips, guiding you into her pace, clits sliding, slicks mixing.
The friction builds, the wet heat of your bodies pressed together, and your back arches instinctively. “Almost there,” you pant, fingers clutching her shoulders as your hips jerk involuntarily against hers.
She hums, pressing down just enough to drive you over the edge, grinding in perfect synchronicity with your pulsing cunt. “Cum for me, baby… shit, just cum all over me,” she tells you, nodding, letting you feel the shiver of need that’s built up in her as well.
Your clench around nothing, clit pulsing, hips shuddering, breath stuttering as your orgasm crashes over you, and Paige moans into your mouth, grinding down once more as she rides through it with you. Your thighs squeeze around her waist, hands clutching her shoulders, hair, even the sheets, and her hips move with you, slow and possessive as your shaking begins to settle.
Paige’s arms wrap around you, holding you close in a way that feels both protective and possessive, and you can feel the faint tremor in her body, the subtle way her muscles still shiver from exertion. Her skin is cold against yours, but somehow it doesn’t make you pull back—it makes you cling closer, pressing your heat into her ice-cold flesh, feeling the way she melts slightly beneath you. The sheets are sticky beneath you, slick with blood and come, but you barely register it. It's all secondary to the way she holds you, the way her hands cradle your body like you’re the most fragile thing she’s ever touched.
“I love you so much,” Paige murmurs, voice low, earnest, trembling just enough that you know she’s not faking it, not for a second. Her mouth presses to your temple, then the curve of your jaw, and you close your eyes.
You shiver against her, feeling the lingering ache in your core from the intensity of your orgasm, and she must notice, because her arms tighten around you, drawing you under the covers with her. She pulls the soft fabric over the two of you, tucking you in.
“I love you too,” you murmur, voice quiet but steady, serious, the words weighed with every emotion in your chest. “For everything you are.”
She presses a kiss to your forehead, lingering, and you feel her lips ghost over your hairline, your temple, a soft brush that makes the last threads of tension unwind from your body. Her cold hand slides along your back, small, careful movements that leave goosebumps in their wake.
“Even… even like this?” she whispers, voice rough, almost unsure, and you tilt your head slightly to look at her, finding her icy blue eyes glinting with vulnerability and desire all at once.
“Yes,” you reply softly, pressing a hand to her cheek. “Especially like this."
s-u-f-j-a-n-s-t-e-v-e-n-s
pixelskylines
tangentwithtanner
areudirty
origamiaround
titsay
