a/n: okay this might not be my best work cause i rushed it, but felt inspired by the lil clip from Azzi admitting that she has posted on her close friends for Paige to get her attention and just had to get it out. the smut was a little rushed so sorry if it gets repetitive idk 😭 anyways hope you like it!
warnings: smut, NSFW, minors DNI
wc: 3k+
Azzi was getting ready for a night out with some of the other girls on the team. Caroline, Amari, and she were shoulder to shoulder in front of the bathroom mirror, putting final touches on their makeup. Amari had a playlist of R&B music going and "Love" by Keyshia Cole started playing through the speakers.
Azzi let out a frustrated sigh, followed by an involuntary eye roll. "Dude, can we skip this song?"
Caroline shot her a confused look, raising her voice over the track. "What’s wrong with this song?"
"You know who this song makes me think of."
Caroline and Amari just laughed, already familiar with the lore of Azzi’s dating life. Amari skipped the song, replacing it with something mellow from Drake, and the three made their way out to the living room.
Caroline wasn’t letting it go. "So I’m guessing you guys aren’t in a good spot right now?"
Azzi sighed, sitting on the arm of the couch. "Yeah, you could say that..."
"Az, you’re gonna have to give us more than that."
"She hasn’t texted me back all day."
Amari jumped in. "She’s probably busy." But they all knew it wasn’t true. Even at her busiest, Paige checked her phone religiously.
"I think she’s mad at me," Azzi admitted.
Caroline raised an eyebrow. "Why? What did you do?"
"Why are you assuming I did something?"
"Azzi," Caroline said pointedly. "What did you do?"
See, the thing was, Azzi and Paige weren’t exclusive. Not technically. They were somewhere in that murky, frustrating in-between. Teetering on something real but too scared to say it out loud. With their long friendship history, they knew that crossing the line into a relationship meant it would get serious—fast. So, they stayed in the gray area. Close enough to want each other, far enough to avoid commitment. But lately, the gray was wearing thin.
The night before, they had gone out. Azzi had drawn the usual male attention, which Paige hated more than she ever admitted. Azzi usually shut it down instantly—she wasn’t interested in anyone but Paige, her teammates, and her close circle. But that night, a guy from class came up at the bar. From a distance, it might’ve looked flirty. In reality, he was asking to borrow notes.
Azzi felt Paige’s eyes on her the entire time. She had planned to explain right after, but Paige came in hot.
"Who the hell was that?"
Azzi didn’t like her tone. Feeling a little bratty, she decided to play into it.
"What does it matter to you?"
"You know why, Az." Paige’s voice softened slightly, but the damage was done. Azzi’s annoyance flared—not just at Paige, but at their whole situation. She wanted exclusivity, but hadn’t worked up the nerve to ask for it, and Paige wasn’t rushing either.
So Azzi pushed harder. "No, I don’t think I do. I can talk to whoever I want."
The flash of hurt on Paige’s face was immediate. "Alright. If that’s how you wanna be." She turned and walked off, no dramatic exit. Just gone.
Azzi knew she’d messed up. She tried to fix it the next day. Texted four times. No response. Paige could pout like no one else and Azzi hated knowing that she was upset with her.
After she told Amari and Caroline the whole story, Amari’s eyes lit up.
"I know how you could get her attention."
Azzi raised a skeptical brow. "Alright, do tell."
"You know P is always on Insta. Post something on your close friends—just for her."
"You mean like... edit it so only she sees it?" Azzi asked, a smirk already forming.
Amari nodded with a mischievous eyebrow wiggle.
Azzi headed back to the bathroom, phone in hand, thoughts racing ahead of her. She stopped in front of the mirror and took herself in—black crop top hugging her just right, jean mini skirt riding high on her hips. Her hair was down, loose black curls framing her face and falling over her shoulders. The silver jewelry in her belly button caught the light as she shifted her stance. She looked good. The kind of good that didn’t just deserve attention, but demanded it.
She popped the button on the skirt and pulled the zipper down halfway, letting it fall open just enough to reveal the black lace of her thong—thin, delicate, sitting high on her hips. She shifted her weight to one leg, tilted her pelvis slightly, and let the fabric of the skirt ride up on one side. One hand went to her waistband, thumb tucked inside, fingers pulling up the hem just a little more.Just enough to tease—sexy, but not trashy, and not trying too hard
She leaned in closer to the mirror, biting her bottom lip, letting her expression settle into something between smug and inviting. She didn’t smile. She smirked. Eyes half-lidded, knowing exactly what kind of reaction this would pull out of Paige.
Click.
She stared at the photo for a few seconds before showing it to Amari and Caroline. They screamed in response.
"Oh, Paige is gonna lose her shit," Caroline said.
"Azzi, you are a menace," Amari added.
Azzi laughed, looking at the picture again. "What if this just makes her more mad?"
"She’s not gonna be thinking about last night when she sees that," Amari said with confidence.
That was all the reassurance she needed. Azzi double, triple checked Paige was the only person on her close friends list, then hit post.
Later, at the bar...
Azzi and the others arrived to find Paige already there, leaning against the bar with a half-empty dirty Shirley in hand. From the way her elbow rested loosely on the counter, her knees angled a little too wide, and her head tilting toward Aubrey mid-laugh, Azzi guessed it was her third—maybe fourth. There was a looseness in her movements, a slightly delayed blink, the kind of easy smile that only showed up when the alcohol had settled in.
But the second her eyes landed on Azzi, all that looseness disappeared. Her shoulders pulled tight, her jaw set, and she turned back toward Aubrey without a word.
Azzi felt the shift like a punch
So either she’d seen the story and was pissed—or she hadn’t seen it yet.
Azzi turned to Amari. "Go find out."
Amari, always down for some mild espionage, nodded and strolled over. She hovered for a while, waiting for an opening to pull Paige aside. It took longer than expected, and every time Azzi shot her a look, Amari shrugged like, I’m trying.
Finally, she found her window.
"Hey, where’s your phone at?" she asked, casual as possible.
Paige patted her pockets. "Shit, I think I left it at home."
Amari blinked. "Are you serious right now?"
"What? It’s not that deep."
"Just... safety hazard," Amari mumbled, realizing she sounded way too invested.
"I’ll make sure not to leave alone," Paige said, still tipsy but oblivious.
Amari returned to Azzi, face grim. "She didn’t bring her phone."
Azzi ran a hand down her face. "Of course she didn’t."
The rest of the night, Paige and Azzi stayed in their separate corners, surrounded by teammates who could clearly sense something was off. Everyone pretended like it was normal. Azzi left early, tired and disappointed that her plan to get back into Paige’s good graces had failed. She hadn’t had more than two drinks and didn’t feel like sleeping, so she curled up on the couch with a book after changing into an oversized shirt.
A few chapters in, her eyes started drooping, and she realized she had reread the same sentence for the fourth time. Just as she was about to head to bed, a knock came at the door.
She opened it without thinking, assuming it was one of her roommates who had forgotten their keys.
Paige.
Phone in hand. Wild eyes. Intent burning behind them.
Azzi barely had time to react before Paige stepped inside, grabbed her under the thighs, and lifted her clean off the ground. Azzi wrapped her legs around her waist without thinking, a sharp breath catching in her throat.
Their mouths met hard—messy, fast, all tongue and teeth. It wasn’t gentle. It was the kind of kiss you give when you've been pissed off and turned on in equal measure for too long. Azzi clutched at Paige’s shoulders, trying to pull her closer even though there was nowhere else to go.
Paige didn’t slow down until they hit the kitchen. She turned, lifted Azzi higher, and set her down on the counter like she’d done it a hundred times. Her hands were still on her thighs.
Then she pulled out her phone, screen already lit, and held it up between them.
“What the fuck is this, baby?”
Azzi tilted her head, feigning innocence. "Just a picture."
"Why is it on close friends?"
"Was feeling myself," Azzi replied, casual, but her breathing wasn’t as even as she wanted it to be.
"Nah. Try again." Paige’s hands slid up Azzi’s thighs lightly, her touch almost taunting.
Azzi raised an eyebrow, lips curving. "You don’t think I should be sharing that with our friends?"
"I know you didn’t. I checked every phone in the apartment. Nobody else saw this."
Azzi swallowed. "Okay, so..."
"So why post that instead of just texting me?"
"You weren’t answering my texts. I needed a different way to get your attention."
Paige leaned in closer, her mouth just brushing Azzi’s jaw. "Well, fuck. You definitely got it."
Azzi’s pulse spiked, but she kept her chin tilted. "What if I don’t want it now?"
Paige brushed her lips against Azzi’s ear and whispered. "Now I know you’re lying."
She didn’t waste a second—Azzi was already on the kitchen counter, legs parted just enough to invite her in. Paige stepped between them, hands gripping her thighs as she leaned in, mouth finding Azzi’s—urgent, messy, a little frustrated. The kind of kiss that wasn’t asking permission, just picking up where the tension had left off. Azzi met her just as fiercely, hands threading into Paige’s hair, pulling her in tighter. It wasn’t soft, wasn’t sweet. It was all the things they hadn’t said and everything they couldn’t keep in.
Azzi gasped, her fingers curling into Paige’s hair. “Are you mad?"
"Mad?" Paige breathed against her neck. "No. I’m turned on as hell."
Her hands slid beneath the hem of Azzi’s shirt, fingertips skating over the soft ridges of her abs before drifting higher. Paige paused for a beat, feeling the heat of skin, then exhaled slowly when she realized Azzi wasn’t wearing a bra.
She pushed the shirt up inch by inch, revealing more skin, until her hands cupped Azzi’s breasts—warm, soft, already sensitive. Her thumbs brushed over Azzi’s nipples, bare and hardening under her touch, and Azzi sucked in a sharp breath, her back instinctively arching toward her.
Paige didn’t rush. She leaned in, tongue flicking over one nipple while her other hand rolled the other between her fingers—slow, lazy, deliberate. Azzi’s fingers tangled in her hair, grip tightening each time Paige’s mouth closed around her.
A low moan slipped out before she could stop it. “Fuck…” Her voice cracked at the end, and Paige’s smile curved against her skin. She let her mouth trail up, kissing over the swell of Azzi’s breast, along her collarbone, until they were eye to eye.
“You knew what you were doing,” Paige said, her breath warm against Azzi’s lips.
“And you came all the way over here for what?” Azzi shot back, voice light but edged with challenge, like she wasn’t ready to give Paige the satisfaction just yet.
Paige didn’t flinch. She slid her hand down, hooking a finger into the lace waistband of Azzi’s thong, tugging it just slightly. “To remind you who you belong to.”
Azzi’s breath caught, but she wasn’t about to fold that easily. “We’re not even official,” she shot back, chin tilted with daring eyes.
“I don’t care,” Paige said, voice low, steady. She dragged the thong down just enough to expose skin, her knuckles brushing heat. “You’re still mine.”
Azzi opened her mouth like she had a comeback, something cocky and defiant—but all that came out was a soft gasp.
Paige’s mouth crashed back onto Azzi’s, all heat and pressure, lips parting like they were trying to settle an argument with their teeth. It wasn’t sweet—it was messy, impatient, still laced with everything unspoken between them. Azzi kissed her back just as hard, one hand gripping the edge of the counter, the other still tangled in Paige’s shirt like she couldn’t decide whether to pull her closer or shove her away.
Then her hand slid between Azzi’s thighs—confident, unhesitating—and Azzi’s breath caught mid-kiss. Her whole body jolted at the contact, a sharp gasp breaking between their mouths. Her hips bucked without meaning to, chasing the pressure, wanting more.
Paige didn’t stop. She pressed in just enough to tease, her palm firm against Azzi’s heat, her fingers still hovering but close enough to drive her crazy.
Azzi reached down, fumbling with Paige’s belt, tugging it open. "Need you."
"Say please."
Azz smirked, even through the haze. "Make me."
That was all the invitation Paige needed. She slipped her hand deeper between Azzi’s thighs, pressing two fingers against her—slow and deliberate, just enough to make her squirm. The heat there was unmistakable, damp and throbbing through the lace, and Paige dragged her fingers in a slow circle, not giving her what she wanted yet, just letting her feel how close she was.
Azzi’s breath hitched hard. Her fingers gripped the edge of the counter like she needed something to ground her. The tension in her body was coiled tight, hips tilting toward Paige’s hand, chasing more pressure even though she didn’t want to be the first to ask.
Paige’s other hand slid up the back of Azzi’s neck and into her hair, fisting just enough to get her attention. She gave a gentle but firm tug, pulling Azzi’s head back so their eyes locked—so Azzi couldn’t hide behind anything clever or coy.
Paige’s voice was low, breath warm against her lips. "This is what you wanted, right?"
Azzi didn’t answer at first. Her lips parted, then closed again. She bit down on the inside of her cheek.
"Az," Paige prompted, her fingers still hovering, heat building.
"Maybe," Azzi finally whispered.
Paige smiled, but it was more hunger than humor. "That’s not a yes."
"It’s not a no either," Azzi pushed back, but her voice wavered.
"You posted that picture for me. You knew exactly what it would do."
Azzi closed her eyes, breath shallow. "Fine. Yeah. I wanted this."
“Good,” Paige said, her voice rough with want, but calm—too calm for how fast her heart was pounding.
She didn’t go back in to kiss her. Instead, her focus stayed on her hand as she finally pushed two fingers inside, slow and steady, no hesitation. The stretch was enough to pull a gasp from Azzi, her head tipping back until it hit the cabinet behind her with a dull thud. Her mouth fell open, breath catching hard in her throat.
Paige watched it all—watched her unravel in real time. Her rhythm was slow at first, deep and purposeful, not giving Azzi everything, just enough to make her ache for it. The tension in Azzi’s thighs built fast, muscles tightening around Paige’s hips as if her body was trying to pull her in closer on its own.
Azzi’s hands scrambled for something to hold—Paige’s shoulders, the counter’s edge, her own shirt—like she needed an anchor just to keep from floating away.
Paige leaned in close, mouth hovering near Azzi’s ear as she curled her fingers just right. "Still wanna act like a brat?" Paige whispered.
Azzi couldn’t speak. Just shook her head, nails digging into Paige’s shoulders.
"Didn’t think so."
The sounds in the kitchen were obscene—wet, desperate, and raw. Every movement of Paige’s fingers was answered with a moan or a gasp, Azzi unable to hold back anymore. Her breath came in broken rhythms, high-pitched and needy. Paige kept it steady, curling her fingers just slightly on every pass, her wrist rolling in a rhythm that felt practiced but unhurried. She knew exactly what she was doing—and Azzi felt it in every controlled movement.
Paige’s eyes flicked up to her face, smirking when her fingers came away slick before pressing back in. “You’re so fucking wet,” she murmured, low enough that it felt like it was just for Azzi.
Every time she brushed that spot just right, Azzi’s legs jerked a little, breath catching in her throat, her stomach tightening beneath Paige’s other hand, which was pressed flat against her like an anchor. She was already close, and they both knew it.
And then Paige stopped.
Azzi’s body jolted with the absence, hips lifting involuntarily. Her hand reached for Paige without thinking, fingers brushing the hem of her shirt like she could pull her back in. But Paige was already dropping to her knees.
She didn’t say anything. Just pulled Azzi forward, thumbs pressing into the soft crease where thigh met hip. Paige tugged the lace thong down in one motion. Let it fall. Then leaned in.
The first swipe of Paige’s tongue was low and slow, right through the center of her, unflinching. Azzi sucked in a sharp breath, her whole body twitching like she’d been caught off guard—even though she’d seen it coming. Her hands shot back, gripping the edge of the counter hard.
Paige didn’t stop to look at her. Just licked again, slow and wet, dragging the flat of her tongue from Azzi’s entrance all the way up, ending with a soft flick over her clit. Azzi let out a quiet, strangled noise, hips jerking without meaning to.
Paige settled in like she had all night. Her grip tightened on Azzi’s thighs as she spread her wider and went in again—this time with more pressure, her tongue pressing into every part of her like she was trying to taste everything. She sucked, slow and deep, lips wrapping around Azzi’s clit just long enough to make her groan, then let go with a slick, obscene sound.
Azzi’s thighs trembled. Her head tipped back, jaw slack, eyes squeezed shut. She couldn’t think. Couldn’t talk. Just felt.
Paige moved messily, hungrily, tongue rolling over her, under her—fucking her with her mouth now, not trying to be gentle about it. Her nose pressed into Azzi’s skin, her mouth soaked, chin wet, but she didn’t care. She was locked in, relentless.
Azzi could barely hold herself up. Her grip on the counter was slipping. One hand left it, found Paige’s head, fingers weaving through her hair, pulling. Not to stop her—just to keep her there.
“Fuck, Paige—” she gasped, voice wrecked.
Paige groaned against her, and the vibration made Azzi’s thighs clamp down, breath catching hard in her throat. Paige just pushed deeper, licking faster, tongue moving tight and fast now. Azzi could barely stay upright. Her arms were shaking, hands slipping on the counter, thighs locked tight around Paige’s head. One hand found Paige’s hair and held her there—tight—her hips grinding against her mouth like she needed more, deeper, now.
“Fuck—don’t stop,” Azzi gasped. “Don’t you fucking stop.”
Paige didn’t. She kept going, tongue flicking fast, pressure right where it needed to be, messy and perfect and relentless.
Azzi started to come apart. Her breathing turned into noise, loud, fast, raw. “Right there—fuck—Paige, yes—right fucking there—”
She broke mid-word, the sound ripped straight from her throat as her whole body snapped tight, thighs shaking around Paige’s shoulders. She came hard, loud and messy, no holding back, just one long, broken cry that bounced off the kitchen walls.
Paige didn’t stop right away. She eased up slow, licking through it while Azzi slumped back against the cabinets, trying to catch her breath. Her legs were still twitching, her grip on Paige’s hair loose but still there.
When Paige finally pulled away, her face was wet, mouth slick, eyes heavy. She looked up like she knew exactly what she’d done.
Azzi was breathless, chest rising fast, body still shaking.
"Holy shit," Azzi whispered.
"That’s what happens when you post thirst traps," Paige said, grinning as she pulled back slightly, wiping the remnants of Azzi off her face.
Azzi groaned. "I might need to do that more often."
"Don’t play with me."
They laughed, forehead to forehead, breath still uneven.
At some point, they’d made it to the couch. Neither of them could remember how. They were just there now—limbs tangled, skin sticky, breath slower. Azzi’s leg draped over Paige’s, Paige’s hand resting on her hip, both of them sunk into the warmth still hanging between them.
The silence that settled wasn’t awkward. It just was. Heavy, but not in a bad way. Like something real was sitting in the room with them, waiting.
Paige finally broke it. "I’m sorry for ignoring you all day."
Azzi sighed. "I’m sorry for being a brat last night."
Paige turned her head. "What are we even doing anymore?"
"What do you mean?"
"I clearly don’t want to be with anyone else. And I get the feeling you don’t either."
Azzi looked at her, voice soft. "Well, yeah."
"So... should we just make this shit official?"
Azzi raised an eyebrow, her voice dry but not unkind. “Is this how you’re asking me to be your girlfriend?”
Paige gave a small shrug, her expression soft but unreadable. “Would it be the wrong time?”
Azzi looked at her for a beat—long enough to make it clear she was thinking about it. She smirked, but there was something warmer behind it now. “You’re gonna have to try a little harder than that, Paige Madison.”
Paige leaned back on her elbows, lips quirking. “So that’s a yes with conditions?”
Azzi rolled her eyes, but she didn’t move away. “That’s a ‘we’ll see if you can pull it off.’”
need more power bottom azzi in control like really in control I love dom az
Who's Mine
a/n: Here you go babes 💕 i don't know if i really delivered on the "really in control" part, but i tried my best so i hope you enjoy it!!
EDIT: ya'll i fucked up and did not write Azzi as a power bottom, got all mixed up and just wrote her as a top but you know... whatever... i'm not embarrassed at all 😭
wc: 2.6k+
warnings: smut, minors DNI
Paige knew she was in trouble the second Azzi shut the apartment door behind them. Not in the oh no, we’re about to fight kind of way, but in the oh no, my girl has that look and I’m not making it out of this with my dignity intact kind of way.
Because the night hadn’t gone exactly as planned, sure, dinner was great. The food was solid, and they always had a good time together—that part was easy. Even the fans stopping by to ask for photos didn’t bother them. They were used to that, and it was kind of sweet. No, what derailed things was the waitress.
Short. Brunette. Nothing special — except for the fact that she couldn’t stop flirting with Paige. From the moment they sat down, she kept stopping by just a little too often, always with a smile directed only at Paige. No eye contact with Azzi. No acknowledgment that she was even there. Every time the conversation started to flow, the waitress would show up again as if on a loop.
By the third “just checking in” within fifteen minutes, Paige gave her the polite version of please stop, saying they were fine and she didn’t need to come back until the food was ready. Paige figured that would be the end of it.
It wasn’t.
When the food finally arrived, the waitress leaned in, her hand brushing Paige’s shoulder, and said, “Thanks for choosing us tonight,” in a voice that was way too soft for a professional gesture. And again, only to Paige. It was like Azzi didn’t exist.
Azzi didn’t say a word. Not to the waitress. Not to Paige. The ride home had been silent — the kind of quiet Paige knew better than to interrupt. Azzi wasn’t mad. She was simmering. And when she simmered, it usually led to one thing.
By the time they got through the door, the air between them was heavy with it. Azzi still hadn’t spoken as she slipped off her jacket and tossed it over the chair, then kicked off her boots with a bit of an edge. Every move was calm and controlled.
She crossed the room without breaking eye contact, her gaze sharp and unreadable. When she finally stopped in front of Paige, she didn’t touch her — just stood close enough to make Paige feel it. Her eyes were dark, her jaw clenched, but her mouth curved into that knowing, dangerous smile.
It wasn’t a smile that asked. It was one that claimed.
Azzi tilted her head, eyes still locked on Paige’s. “So... that waitress really thought she had a chance?”
Paige let out a breath, half a laugh. “I wasn’t even looking at her.”
Azzi raised a brow. “Didn’t stop her from practically crawling across the table.”
“She was annoying,” Paige muttered. “I told her to back off.”
Azzi stepped closer, close enough that Paige forgot how to breathe properly. Her voice, when she finally spoke, was quieter — softer. “I didn’t like that she touched you.”
Paige nodded, trying to hold her gaze, but it was hard with Azzi looking at her like that.
“I know you didn’t do anything,” Azzi said. “But still… watching her act like I wasn’t even there? Like you were up for grabs?” She shook her head. “It got under my skin.”
There was a beat of silence. Then she leaned in just a little more, lips brushing Paige’s ear as she spoke. “I just need to remind you who you belong to. Okay?”
Paige’s stomach flipped. “That right, baby?”
“You know I’m not playing around.”
“I know, Az. I love when you remind me.”
Azzi smiled again, but this time it had teeth. “Good.”
She kissed her once — quick, claiming — then pulled back before Paige could chase it.
“Bedroom,” she said, voice low but clear. “Clothes off. Sit on the edge of the bed.”
Paige paused for just a beat — not in defiance, but to steady herself — then nodded and turned without a word. Her heart thudded in her chest, but her hands were sure as she stripped on the way. No teasing, no performance. Just obedience. By the time she sat on the edge of the bed, bare and waiting, the room felt different. It was warmer and heavier.
Footsteps padded softly on the floor, and then Azzi appeared in the doorway, leaning on the frame like she had all the time in the world. Her gaze traveled over Paige — slow, unhurried — and something about the way she stood there, fully clothed, calm as anything, made Paige feel smaller in the best possible way.
Azzi crossed the room, stopped right in front of her, and brushed a strand of hair behind Paige’s ear.
“You looked really pretty tonight,” she said softly.
Paige blinked up at her, heat creeping up her neck. But instead of shrinking under the compliment, she smiled — a little lopsided, a little breathless.
“Nah,” she said, voice warm and teasing. “You’re the pretty one, baby.”
Azzi let out a quiet laugh through her nose — not surprised, just amused. Paige would never let a compliment go unreciprocated. “Thanks, baby. Always so sweet.”
Her hand rose slowly, fingers trailing down Paige’s arm in featherlight strokes, unhurried, like she had the whole night to memorize her. She hadn’t even touched anywhere intimate yet, and still Paige’s skin buzzed like it was lit from within. Then Azzi’s gaze dipped lower, lingering between Paige’s thighs, and her breath caught in something like a laugh. “God, look at you,” she murmured, eyes dark. “You’re already dripping for me.” Her fingers flexed against Paige’s skin, not moving down yet, just holding her there in the tension. “Haven’t even touched you, and you’re begging.”
Paige’s chest rose with a shaky inhale. “Only for you,” she whispered.
That pulled something out of Azzi — the faint clench of her jaw, the way her hand tightened at Paige’s waist, holding her there. She slid in closer, fitting between Paige’s legs, and kissed her again. There was nothing hurried in it, nothing unsure. Just the kind of kiss that told her exactly where she stood.
When she pulled back, Paige was already chasing her, eyes glazed over with hunger and anticipation.
Azzi stood, her hands brushing down Paige’s thighs as she stepped back from the bed. For a second, Paige thought she was going to say something or maybe offer a soft comment or another one of those steady commands that made her stomach burn, but Azzi just looked at her for a moment.
Then she turned toward the dresser.
Paige watched, heart thudding, as Azzi opened the drawer — the one Paige would usually go to in a moment like this, so she knew what was in there.
Azzi didn’t usually do this.
It was Paige who wore the strap most of the time. She leaned into that role naturally, confidently, with Azzi happily soft under her hands. But every once in a while — when the moment called for it, when something inside her stirred like it had tonight, Azzi would reach for it.
She opened the drawer.
Paige stayed completely still, heart in her throat, watching the way Azzi stepped into it. There was a slight pause as she buckled it across her hips. She adjusted the straps with a focus on making sure she was getting it just right. The sound of the leather tightening broke the quiet — soft clicks, a sharp tug here, a slow breath there. Paige’s thighs pressed together without thinking, her breath shallow, her chest full of something warm and too big to name.
Azzi looked over at her with a small smile tugging at her lips. “You like watching me get ready for you?”
Paige nodded, cheeks hot. “Fuck—yes, baby.”
For a second, Azzi just looked at her. Not teasing. Not smug. Just… focused. Like she was really seeing her. Then, without another word, she circled around to the other side of the bed and stretched out against the pillows, legs falling open just enough, the harness still strapped snug across her hips. Paige sat up, blinking, not sure she was reading this right. And then Azzi looked at her, eyes soft but steady, and said, “C’mere. Ride me.”
It wasn’t loud or demanding. But it hit like gravity.
Paige’s whole body responded before her brain caught up, heat pooling low in her stomach, her breath catching somewhere in her throat. “You sure?” she asked, but already halfway moving.
Azzi reached out, fingers curling lightly around Paige’s wrist, and nodded. “Yeah. I want to feel you. Let me?”
That was all it took. Paige climbed into her lap like muscle memory, like she was made for it — knees braced on either side of Azzi’s hips, her thighs spreading as the soft press of the harness nudged right where she wanted it. She shivered at the contact, fingers skating up the ridges of Azzi’s stomach, tracing the rise and fall of each breath before settling against her chest for balance.
Azzi leaned back into the pillows, gaze never leaving her, jaw tight with restraint. The room felt hotter, heavier, like even the air had bent to the tension between them. She didn’t reach to rush Paige, didn’t move to take control. She just sat there, letting Paige straddle her, letting her feel the weight of the strap resting firm and ready between them.
Paige rocked down experimentally, and the drag of the silicone against her soaked center made her gasp, her whole body jolting at the friction. Azzi’s hands clenched at her hips then, not forcing her but anchoring her, holding her steady.
“Fuck,” Azzi breathed, her eyes flicking down to where Paige was already leaving herself wet across the length of it. “You’re dripping on me, baby. Haven’t even given you anything yet.” Her voice went low, husky. “Go on.”
Paige swallowed hard, her pulse racing. She shifted again, more measured this time, pressing herself down until the head of the strap caught against her entrance. She moaned, shaky and high, the sound pulling a sharp inhale from Azzi as her fingers dug deeper into Paige’s waist.
The stretch made her thighs tremble, and for a second Paige hovered there, suspended in the ache of anticipation. Azzi didn’t push, didn’t move to take over — she just breathed with her, steady and calm, letting Paige feel every bit of the choice she was making.
Then Azzi’s hands slid lower, curling around the backs of Paige’s thighs, not forcing but guiding, steadying her descent. Stillness, but not passivity — her strength was right there, braced beneath Paige, keeping her grounded as she sank deeper. Her stare pinned Paige in place. No smirk, no edge of challenge.
It threw Paige off balance in the best way, that quiet surrender. Her breath stuttered as she tried to find a rhythm, only to give in to the pull of Azzi’s gaze. She leaned forward, palms gliding up the firm lines of Azzi’s abs, over her chest, pausing to cup and caress before sliding higher to her shoulders. And then she kissed her.
Azzi responded with a soft sound in her throat, lips parting, hands sliding up to cradle Paige’s back like she was something precious.
She took her time with it. With all of it. The press of her body. The gradual roll of her hips. The easy sink into something that felt like more than just touch — like trust, like surrender, like taking control in a way that wasn’t about dominance but about presence. Paige moved tentatively at first, trying to set her own pace, but Azzi’s hands tightened at her hips, halting her.
Her gaze lifted, steady and certain, and then her body spoke for her. Azzi drew her knees up, heels pressing into the mattress as she drove into Paige, the sudden force ripping a sharp, broken gasp from her throat.
Azzi set the rhythm — drawn-out, deliberate — making Paige feel every inch of the strap as it filled her. She glanced down between them, watching the slick spread, the creamy ring forming at the base with each movement. The sight pulled a low curse from her lips, hunger flashing in her eyes as she drove up again, harder this time.
Paige’s breath hitched, her nails dragging lightly along Azzi’s shoulders as the steady thrusts built a rhythm beneath her. Every push made her body shiver with heat, her head falling back, mouth opening around a gasp that she couldn’t hold down.
The pace quickened without either of them naming it. Azzi’s thighs flexed, driving harder, and Paige met her halfway, the slap of skin-on-skin filling the room. She felt herself unraveling, the coil in her stomach tightening with every stroke.
“God, Az,” she whispered against her mouth, her voice breaking, “don’t stop.”
Azzi only answered by grabbing a fistful of Paige’s hair and pulling her back into another kiss, deeper, hungrier, as if to say she had no intention of stopping at all.
Paige’s head dipped, forehead brushing Azzi’s, breath coming in short, shaky bursts. “I love you,” she whispered, almost like a confession, eyes fluttering shut as another wave of heat broke through her body. “I love you so much.”
Azzi’s lips curved against her cheek, then her ear. “Say it again.”
“I love you.” Paige’s voice cracked, but it was stronger this time, louder, needier. Her hands twisted in the sheets on either side of Azzi as her hips rocked into her rhythm.
Azzi tightened her grip on her waist, pulling her down harder, keeping her right where she wanted her. Her voice dropped, low and rough. “Who’s mine, P?”
Paige whimpered, every nerve alive, the question pulling something primal from her. “Me. I’m yours. Only yours.”
Azzi kissed her, claiming, like sealing the words into her mouth. Then she pulled back just enough to meet Paige’s eyes, searching, demanding. “Don’t forget it. No one else gets this.”
Paige nodded, desperate and breathless, holding her gaze as she sank deeper into the movement. “Never. Just you. Always you.”
Azzi’s mouth tilted into a fierce smile, sweat beading along her temples as she snapped her hips again. “Louder.”
“I’m yours!” Paige nearly shouted, her whole body shaking, voice strangled by pleasure.
Azzi surged up to kiss her, biting at her lip before swallowing the rest of her cry. “That’s right. My girl. My love.”
Paige’s movements turned frantic, chasing release. She ground down against Azzi’s thrusts, every nerve alight, every sound breaking free of her throat.
“Az—oh, God—don’t fucking stop—”
“I won’t,” Azzi groaned, thrusting harder now, faster, all of her strength pouring into each movement. “Not until you fall apart for me. Give it to me.”
Paige’s body arched hard, every muscle straining, the world narrowing to nothing but Azzi beneath her — solid, relentless, hers. Pleasure tore through her in jagged waves, low in her belly then flooding out until even her fingertips buzzed. Her cry broke sharp and raw, caught somewhere between a sob and a moan, as her walls clenched tight around the strap, wet and messy, coating it with every thrust.
Azzi didn’t let up. Her hips kept driving, steady, merciless, fucking her through it, pulling more out of her than she thought she had. Paige clung to her shoulders, nails digging deep, her whole body shaking as another ripple hit, then another, until she was half-gasping, half-whimpering Azzi’s name. Slick smeared down her thighs, dripping onto Azzi’s skin, and still she couldn’t stop, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but come apart in Azzi’s lap, filthy and wrecked and completely hers.
Azzi held her through it, guiding every spasm, whispering against her ear as Paige clung to her. “That’s it, baby. Only mine.”
a/n: so after messing up the whole power bottom request in my last fic, the perfectionist in me needed to correct my mistake so here is power bottom Azzi for all who wanted it. if it sucks, don't tell me, i'm sensitive 😭 i wrote it late last night and then edited quickly while on a work break and i know it's pretty short but i don't feel like adding anymore.
also... i combined this with another request wanting lapdance azzi.
wc: 1.4k
warnings: smut, NSFW, minors DNI
Paige was locked in on Ghost of Tsushima, controller steady in her hands, music humming from the speaker in the corner. Azzi sat nearby folding their laundry, the soft rhythm of domesticity wrapping around her. She loved nights like this — ordinary, safe, a glimpse of a future she craved. Marriage, family, a life built together. The thought pulled her chest tight, and she had to touch Paige, just to remind herself it was real.
She slipped behind her, pressed her face into Paige’s shoulder, and kissed her temple, her cheek, the side of her neck.
“I love you, baby,” Azzi murmured.
“I love you too, Az.” Paige leaned into the warmth, but her focus never wavered from the screen.
The bass of the next song thumped through the room, and both of them started half-singing along. Azzi folded the last pair of sweatpants and carried the basket into the bedroom. On her way back, she caught the beat, tossing a playful glance over her shoulder as she bent to throw it back, making sure Paige saw it out of the corner of her eye.
That snapped her attention.
“Okay, baby, gonna give me a show?” Paige teased, wiggling her eyebrows.
She hadn’t expected Azzi to take her seriously. But Azzi smirked, tugged up the edge of her shirt to flash her abs, belly piercing catching the light, and swayed her hips side to side. Paige immediately paused her game. She was locked in now — but not on the screen.
Azzi gave her a real show. She didn’t climb into her lap right away, but stopped in front of Paige, letting the bass carry her hips. Paige dropped the controller without thinking, eyes stuck on her like glue. Then Azzi turned around, dragging her hands down her thighs as she bent and started moving to the beat. She pushed her ass back toward Paige, brushing against her knees before pulling away again, teasing her.
“God, Az…” Paige muttered, shifting forward on the couch.
Azzi looked back over her shoulder with a grin, catching the way Paige’s hands flexed like she was barely holding herself back. She pushed back harder this time, grinding into her legs until Paige let out a low curse.
That was enough. Paige’s hands flew to her hips, dragging her closer, and Azzi let out a moan that made Paige grip even tighter.
Then she turned, straddling her lap, grinding down into her with the music still pounding from the speaker. Paige’s head tipped back against the cushions as her hands started roaming — waist, thighs, ass, anywhere she could reach. When she finally squeezed, Azzi’s moan cut through the room, sharp and needy.
The game was done. The laundry was forgotten. Nothing else mattered except getting to the bedroom.
Clothes hit the floor quickly. Paige strapped in, and by the time she turned, Azzi was already sprawled across the bed, legs parted, pupils blown wide.
“God, Az,” Paige groaned, “you’re so fucking beautiful.”
Azzi smirked, tugging her closer. “I love when you get all soft, P.”
“You know I’m a simp.” Paige’s grin was so cheesy it made her eyes crinkle.
Azzi’s laugh broke into a gasp when Paige pressed the strap against her soaked center. Before it could slide in, Azzi’s hand wrapped around it, stopping her. She guided the tip down and dragged it slowly through her folds, her slick coating every ridge. When she reached her clit, she ground the ribbed base upward, pressing it flush against Paige’s own.
Paige’s breath caught hard in her throat.
“Fuck, that feels good,” she groaned, already squirming against the friction.
Azzi smirked, rolling it against her again, slower this time, circling the tip right over her clit. “Yeah? You like that, baby?”
Paige’s eyes fluttered shut, her jaw clenching as she tried to hold it together. Watching her unravel from nothing but Azzi’s hand on the strap made Azzi’s grin widen.
“Az,” Paige whined, voice breaking, “I wanna be inside you.”
“Be patient, P.” Azzi pressed harder, grinding the toy in a rhythm that had Paige sagging against her shoulder, moaning helplessly.
“Fuck—baby…” Paige trembled.
“You like that?”
“You know I do.”
“Bet I could get you off just from this.”
The idea nearly unraveled Paige, but Azzi finally released her grip, pulling her in for a kiss. Their mouths crashed together, hot and hungry, teeth grazing before Azzi softened it, tugging on her bottom lip as if reminding Paige who had just given permission. Paige melted into it, kissing her deeper, tongues tangling, the need between them spilling over into every press of their mouths.
She pushed in slowly, their moans tangling as Azzi stretched around her.
But after only a few thrusts, Azzi’s hands anchored her hips, halting her. Paige froze, wide-eyed. Azzi kissed up her neck, bit her earlobe, and whispered against her ear:
“Slower.”
“I am going slow,” Paige protested.
“Slower.”
The command left no room for argument. Paige obeyed, filling her inch by inch until she was buried to the hilt.
“Good girl,” Azzi purred.
Paige’s body screamed to go faster, but she kept to Azzi’s agonizing rhythm until Azzi finally rewarded her with:
“Perfect. Keep going just like that.”
The praise lit Paige up. She moved with control, letting Azzi control the pace until finally, permission came. Every muscle in her body felt coiled tight, waiting for Azzi’s word like it was the only thing that mattered.
“Faster, baby.”
Paige obeyed with everything she had — hips snapping, muscles burning, sweat dripping as their bodies slapped together in filthy rhythm. The room filled with obscene sounds: Azzi’s raw moans, Paige’s ragged breathing, the sharp sting of skin on skin.
“Don’t stop, P—keep going.”
“I won’t.”
“You like fucking this pussy? It’s all yours. Only you make me feel this good. God, I’m so wet for you.”
The words broke her. Paige was close, so close, fighting to hold back, her whole body trembling from the effort. Don’t give in yet. Just a little longer. Get her there first. But every thrust made her clench harder, every moan from Azzi tore through her like a live wire. She bit down on her lip, desperate, but her body was already betraying her.
“I want you to finish first,” she panted.
But Azzi could feel the way she was trembling, knew she was seconds away. She cupped Paige’s jaw, wiped away a bead of sweat, and murmured,
“Come for me, P. From me taking you so well. This pussy was made for you.”
The words detonated inside her. Paige’s rhythm fell apart, her body shaking as release tore through her. She cried out against Azzi’s mouth, the kiss rough and unsteady, teeth knocking, breath hot between them, nothing neat about it — just need and desperation spilling over.
When Paige collapsed against her, boneless and shaking, Azzi only let her rest for a breath. Then her hands slid down, gripping Paige’s ass and grinding her hips forward again.
Paige whined, the sound ragged and small. “Az… too much…”
“Shh,” Azzi soothed, rocking up into her with a sharp roll of her hips. “You can give me more.”
Paige trembled, but she obeyed, dragging her body back into motion, every thrust rougher from the overstimulation. Her face buried in Azzi’s neck, she moaned with each stroke, caught between pain and pleasure.
“That’s it,” Azzi gasped, nails digging into her skin. “Good girl—don’t stop.”
Paige whimpered, pushing through, her muscles screaming, but Azzi kept her moving, chasing her own release with relentless grind and grip.
Her moans climbed higher, breaking into cries as her body arched off the mattress. “Right there—fuck, yes—don’t you dare stop now.”
Paige held on as long as she could until Azzi shattered beneath her, screaming her release, body tightening around the strap as she dragged Paige through every last wave with her.
They lay tangled in the sheets, both of them still trying to catch their breath. Azzi traced lazy circles across Paige’s back, her touch softer now, grounding. She squeezed her hip gently, their unspoken signal that it was time to get up and head to the shower—something they always did together.
Paige groaned, unstrapping and rolling off the bed. She glanced at the tangled sheets, the sweat, the mess they’d left behind — and laughed.
could you do a one shot of azzi surprising paige in dallas like maybe paige was out with her teammates and azzi has been flirting and texting (probably sexting lol) all night and then p gets home and sees she’s actually there
SURPRISE
a/n: here you go anon 🫡 thanks for the idea! had a lot of fun writing this one!
warnings: sexual content, minors DNI
The night isn’t really a club night.
It’s a we-won-let ’s-not-waste-it night. One of those half-celebrations that start with someone saying “just one drink” and end somewhere in the territory of poor decisions and a group selfie no one remembers taking.
So they end up on the rooftop bar of some hotel none of them are staying at—technically upscale, but a little grimy. The kind of place with linen napkins but sticky menus, where the lighting is dim enough to make you look good and hide how overpriced the drinks are. Everything glows violet.
Paige has been nursing the same gin and tonic for thirty minutes, not because she’s worried about getting drunk, but because she’s not really in it tonight. The kind of not-in-it that feels heavy in her arms and light in her chest. Off. Like her body showed up but her brain stayed home.
She keeps checking her phone, even though she knows there won’t be anything new. No text. No missed call. Just the same home screen photo—her girlfriend in some tinted glasses with a piece of gum stretched between her teeth and fingertips from a recent photoshoot. She stares for a few beats, checking out her shoulders, her lips, her hands… God, she misses her. And not in the dramatic, sweeping kind of way. Just—in the quiet moments. In the way nothing feels quite right without her.
Nai’s half-draped across the low couch beside her, wearing glitter eyeliner and the smugness of someone who knows they’re a baddie. Paige has no idea how they’re still functioning after playing thirty-five minutes tonight, but Nai is wired, loud, and deeply committed to winning their current debate.
“No, but for real,” Nai says, turning dramatically in her chair. “Why is everyone acting like Sexyy Red didn’t eat on that Bieber track?”
Paige snorts. “Because she didn’t. I’m sorry, but that shit was trash.”
Nai rolls her eyes. “Don’t pretend like you have good taste in music…”
“You know who should’ve been on it?” Paige says, already smirking.
“If you say SZA—”
“SZA,” Paige confirms, nodding like it’s the most obvious answer in the world. “That shit would’ve been fire.”
Nai groans. “You always be riding SZA’s dick. That verse is gonna grow on you, just wait.”
Paige stares at them, deciding whether to continue this useless argument with a slow blink. She decides to let it go and pulls out some cash and says, “Go get more fries.”
Nai raises an eyebrow at the command, but is too hungry to argue, so she wades into the bar-slash-food-window, hollering something about the argument not being over just yet.
Paige exhales, leans her head back against the vinyl cushion, then closes her eyes for a moment. The air up here is warm, a bit humid, frayed around the edges with cigarette smoke and spilled tequila. Her calves are tired, her feet throbbing in her sneakers, and all she can think about is how much she misses her girl.
Her phone buzzes against her thigh, screen lighting up in the low glow of the rooftop bar.
AZZI:
you drunk yet
Paige thumbs open the thread without thinking. She’s been waiting on it. The gin and tonic in her hand has long gone watery, barely touched.
She types back, leaning into the couch’s uneven cushion.
PAIGE:
nah
A pause. Another buzz.
AZZI:
why not
y’all won
you should be celebrating
Paige stares at the message. Her heart gives a little tug, annoying in how easy it is.
She replies before she can talk herself out of it.
PAIGE:
i know
just doesn’t feel the same without you here
miss you
It’s dumb. She knows it. Soft and clingy and way too honest for a night like this. But it’s true. The win felt hollow without Azzi’s hands on her waist afterward, without her shoulder to lean into when the noise got too loud.
The three dots appear. Vanish. Appear again.
Then:
AZZI:
baby
Paige exhales slowly. Her chest aches in that low, stupid way it always does when she lets herself want things.
She types:
PAIGE:
yeah
A beat of silence.
Her drink sits untouched.
Then another buzz.
AZZI:
miss you so much
PAIGE:
how much???
AZZI:
you tryna get a photo or something
The corner of Paige’s mouth lifts. It’s ridiculous how fast her body reacts — like her nerves have been waiting for the excuse.
PAIGE:
a girl can dream
you know i love to sext you mama
AZZI:
say less
what are you wearing
The air shifts. Around her, teammates are laughing, shouting over each other, but Paige barely hears it.
She’s already typing again.
PAIGE:
green cargos
white crop top with that black button up
the one you like
The response is nearly instant.
AZZI:
fuck
you’re trying to kill me
Paige smiles, bites it back, feels her skin warm.
PAIGE:
i like when you get dramatic about my outfit
AZZI:
you know exactly what you’re doing in that fit
showing off them abs
Then, a second later:
AZZI:
actually hold on
Paige frowns, confused, until—
Buzz.
Photo.
She clicks it open and swears under her breath.
It's not a full-body shot.
It’s worse.
An up-close photo, shot from just above Azzi’s chest — low lighting painting soft gold across her collarbones. Lace straps cut across glowing skin, framing the curve of one breast just barely contained. The photo’s angled enough to show her thigh, bent, skin smooth, the edge of her panties visible where her hand rests — fingers curled like she’s thinking about touching herself.
Her hair’s pulled up messily, like she didn’t plan this. Like she just got warm and needed relief. Her lips are parted, eyes half-lidded, and there’s a smirk there — lazy, dangerous — like she knows exactly what this is doing to Paige.
Like she took this and thought,
yeah. this’ll ruin her.
Paige feels her mouth go dry.
Her phone buzzes again.
AZZI:
you’re not the only one who can show off
PAIGE:
i literally just stopped breathing
this is actual violence
AZZI:
bet your thighs are pressed together right now
poor baby
Paige closes her eyes, breath shuddering.
She types slower this time, each word careful.
PAIGE:
i wish you were here
There’s a long pause. She watches the three dots blink in and out.
AZZI:
go home
Paige blinks. Frowns.
PAIGE:
what
AZZI:
go home
we can make each other miserable over the phone
Paige’s stomach flips. Heat climbs her throat.
She stares at the message for a second too long, pulse tripping over itself.
PAIGE:
you serious?
AZZI:
go.
now.
Paige doesn’t ask again.
She stands, mumbles something to Nai about being exhausted, and bolts down the stairs before anyone can stop her. Her Uber is five minutes away. She texts Azzi from the back seat, palms sweaty against her thighs.
Paige is practically running through her apartment hallway with how fast she is walking now. She unlocks the door. Pushes it open.
And freezes.
The lamp’s on.
Shoes by the door that aren’t hers.
And from the hallway—low, cocky, familiar:
“Hey, baby.”
Paige whips around the corner.
Azzi’s leaning against the wall, barefoot and glowing, hair mussed, that black lace still clinging to her like a sin.
“Miss me?” she says.
Paige doesn’t answer.
She’s already moving, dropping her keys. She doesn’t care where they land.
Azzi pushes off the wall, still barefoot, still wearing the lingerie like she didn’t just cross state lines in it.
“You’re—” Paige starts, but the words collapse in her mouth.
“I’m here,” Azzi says, smiling like it’s no big deal, like she hasn’t just wrecked her. “Surprise.”
The next second is just contact.
Paige crosses the room in two steps, crashes into her like she’s afraid she might vanish again. Azzi’s arms reach around her neck to pull her in, body warm and unmistakably real. Paige kisses her—hard, all teeth and tongue, no patience left—and Azzi groans into it like she’s been waiting to be devoured.
Paige pulls back just enough to breathe.
“You flew here,” she whispers, forehead pressed against Azzi’s. “How the hell did you—”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Azzi.”
“I have a two-day break,” Azzi says, voice low, hands sliding under Paige’s shirt like she’s been thinking about this for miles. “I checked flights this morning and well, here I am.”
“You didn’t even tell me.”
“You sounded lonely,” Azzi murmurs. Her thumbs brush bare skin above Paige’s waistband. “And I missed you so bad it made my chest hurt.”
Paige laughs, short and breathless, then kisses her again, slower this time—deeper. Azzi’s mouth opens under hers like it’s instinct, like yes, this.
“I needed you,” Paige says against her lips, barely a whisper.
“I know,” Azzi murmurs. “Me too.”
They stumble back toward the bedroom, kissing like they’re trying to rewind the weeks they’ve been apart. Paige’s over shirt goes first, tugged off her shoulders and tossed aside without a care in the world. Azzi’s eyes flicker down—slow, awed—and she exhales like the sight hurts.
“You look so fucking good in this crop top,” she says softly.
“Yeah,” Paige says, reaching for the bottom hem, “but it’s in the way right now.”
Azzi’s hands replace hers, lifting the top up slowly, like she wants to remember how every inch of her feels. Paige watches her face, watches the change—how cocky melts into serious, then into something rougher.
Azzi kneels. Pulls her pants down inch by inch, mouth brushing Paige’s hipbone. Kisses her like she’s unwrapping something only she gets to see.
Paige sinks her fingers into Azzi’s hair, her voice barely above a whisper. “You really flew here just to wreck me?”
Azzi looks up at her, expression open now—unguarded in a way that always catches Paige off guard.
“I flew here,” she says softly, “because I missed your voice. Your face. The way it feels when you look at me like this.”
A beat. She presses her mouth gently to the inside of Paige’s thigh, like she’s grounding herself.
“I wanted to be where you are. That’s it.”
Then her mouth is on her.
There’s no teasing, no buildup. Just Azzi, right there—tongue sure and steady, hands holding Paige open while she stands above her like she belongs to her. Paige gasps, knees shaking, arm reaching out for the dresser behind her to help ground her. Azzi doesn’t stop. She hums low like she’s savoring something, and the sound goes straight through Paige.
It doesn’t take long. She’s too wound up, too gone, body tuned entirely to Azzi’s touch. When she comes, it’s sharp and helpless—her hands in Azzi’s hair, her breath caught, her hips bucking into her like they can’t help but fuck her face.
Azzi kisses her way up her stomach, her chest, settles over her with that same goddamn smirk Paige first fell for.
“Hi,” Azzi says, kissing the corner of her mouth.
Paige laughs, dazed. “Fuck—I love you.”
Azzi kisses her like she means it—slow, steady, no end to it—then pulls back just enough to catch her gaze.
“I love you too,” she says, low and sure, fingers brushing down Paige’s arm. “I think it’s my turn now.”
Paige nods in agreement and reaches for her hand. “Come here.”
Azzi follows, legs unsteady from kneeling.
Paige walks her backward until the backs of Azzi’s knees meet the edge of the bed, and then—gently, wordlessly—guides her down.
She kneels between her thighs, not rushing, not teasing, just... looking at her. Her hands slide up the inside of Azzi’s bare legs, and then she opens them wider, settling between like she’s right where she belongs.
“You don’t have to be gentle,” Azzi says, voice quiet but sure. “I can take it.”
Paige leans forward, pressing a kiss low on her stomach. Then another, lower still.
“Come on,” she murmurs, looking up through her lashes. “Make it hurt a little.”
a/n: well, to ease the sting of the loss to the fever tonight, per request, here is part 2 for the one shot where Azzi ends with asking Paige to "make it hurt a little." there isn't a ton of plot so i feel like it's not my best, but whatever here you go.
warnings: smut/sexual content, minors DNI
wc: 2.5k+
Morning After
Azzi wakes up tangled in limbs and linens, warm skin pressed against warmer skin, Paige's breath brushing the curve of her neck. The morning feels soft, bright, and painfully tender. She shifts, trying to settle deeper into Paige’s side, but winces at the ache spreading across her hips.
Paige stirs, noticing the look on her face. “You okay?” she murmurs, her voice still husky from sleep and whatever the hell last night was.
Azzi gives her a look. “You’re really asking?”
Paige chuckles, one corner of her mouth twitching. “Don’t even start. You literally said—and I quote—‘make it hurt a little.’”
Azzi pouts, but there’s no real heat behind it. Just that blend of soreness and satisfaction that makes her whole body buzz.
“What do you need, mama?” Paige asks, brushing Azzi’s hair back behind her ear. “Want me to run you a bath?”
Azzi sucks her lower lip into her mouth, considers, then just nods. She doesn’t have the energy to pretend like she’s not aching. Paige grins — not the cocky one she wears in public, but the gentle, slow kind she saves for Azzi when they’re alone and no one’s watching.
She slides the blanket off of them, sits up, and freezes.
“Damn, baby,” she breathes, eyes wide. “I was gripping hard.”
Azzi glances downward, noticing purple fingerprints scattered along the edges of her hipbones. She lets out a soft groan as Paige leans in, gently tracing the marks with her fingers, almost in disbelief that they left such a visible reminder.
“I’m gonna feel that for days,” Azzi mutters, half amused, half impressed.
Paige presses a kiss to her temple. “Worth it though?”
Azzi just laughs and flops back onto the pillow. Paige goes into the bathroom, and a second later, Azzi hears the water running. She drapes an arm over her eyes, fingers brushing over the bruises. Her voice is shot — throat raw from moaning Paige’s name, from the way she couldn’t stop herself last night
She remembers the shift in Paige as vividly as if it was glowing in neon. One moment, Paige was her usual gentle, slow, reverent self — soft as she traced scripture across Azzi’s skin. Then Azzi softly said, "I want it rough tonight. Hurt me a little," and suddenly, Paige changed. Just like that.
There was no warning when Paige bit into her inner thigh. Azzi squealed — half shock, half delight — and then gasped when Paige slapped her center. Not roughly, but enough to make her eyes fly open. Her head tilted back, laughter spilling out as heat flooded her stomach.
Paige had looked up at her with that smirk. The one that says oh, you’re in for it.
“You like that, baby?”
“P, you know I do.”
“So you want it rough tonight?” Paige asked, eyebrows raised, teasing but serious. She always double-checked, even when Azzi had already made it clear.
Azzi attempted to respond, but her breath caught unexpectedly, making her just nod in response.
“That’s not good enough,” Paige had murmured. “You’re gonna have to say please.”
Azzi rolled her eyes, pushing back because that was their thing. “And if I don’t?”
Paige’s response was immediate. “Then I’m gonna go real slow, be all gentle and romantic and shit. You’ll be begging me to stop edging you by the end.”
Azzi groaned dramatically. “I just flew in to surprise you. Can you not be difficult for once?”
Paige raised an eyebrow, totally unbothered. “I’m not the one being difficult right now.”
Azzi pouted, then tried again, softer this time. “Come on, P…”
Paige didn’t budge. Just stood there, tilting her head slightly, like she could wait forever.
Azzi glared for another second. Maybe two. Then sighed.
“Ugh. Fine.” She sat up a little straighter and mumbled, “Please, baby.”
Paige’s smirk spread instantly. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“Shut up.”
“Aight, mama,” Paige said, giving her upper thigh a sharp slap that made Azzi’s legs twitch. Then she stood and walked to the nightstand. “Turn around. Get on your knees.”
Azzi had obeyed, because of course she had. Paige’s voice alone had her dripping. Her knees hit the mattress with a quiet thud, her chest catching on a breath she doesn’t fully exhale. Behind her, she can hear Paige rummaging in the nightstand. She glances over her shoulder and catches Paige pulling the strap out of the dresser drawer on the other side of the room. Azzi can’t tell which one she grabbed, but she doesn’t get the chance to ask.
Paige’s voice drops low. “Face forward, baby.”
Azzi obeys without thinking.
Then Paige is there, behind her—one hand splayed across her lower back, the other gripping her ass. Her touch is firm but steady. She spreads Azzi open, almost growling at the sight.
Azzi can’t form words. She feels exposed, completely on display, and she loves it. She arches her back more, gives Paige a better angle, a better view, whatever she needs.
Paige slaps her again. Right between her legs. Azzi lets out a broken sound, somewhere between a gasp and a moan. She feels the wetness pulse out of her.
“God, P—” Azzi whines, clutching the sheets.
“You still want it to hurt a little?” Paige asks, leaning in so close Azzi can feel her breath. “You sure, mama?”
Azzi turns her head just enough to nod. “Yes. Please.”
Paige kisses her lower back. “Good girl.”
That’s when it start s and it’s nothing like their usual rhythm. There’s no slow build. No teasing. Paige grabs her hips and pulls her back onto her with a little extra force—and Azzi feels it immediately. Not just the stretch of it filling her, but the press and tension in Paige’s breath behind her. The strap’s double-sided—Azzi can tell by the way Paige groans low in her throat, her hands trembling just slightly as she sinks in. She’s getting it too. Feeling every grind, every clench.
Connected through the toy. They moved like one body —breath to breath, pulse to pulse, every shift dragging both of them deeper.
Azzi bites her lip, moaning as Paige starts to move. Her grip is bruising—literally. Azzi feels it with every snap of Paige’s hips, every low moan Paige breathes into the room like she can’t hold it back anymore.
A cry rips from her throat. The sting, the stretch, the relentless slap slap slap of skin meeting skin—it’s overwhelming, addictive. Her body trembles, knees sliding against the sheets, but Paige doesn’t let her drop. One strong hand fists in her hair and pulls her head back just enough to take control.
“I want to hear you, Azzi.”
“You are hearing me,” she chokes out.
“Louder.”
And Azzi gives in, moaning like the neighbors don’t matter like her voice wasn’t going to be hoarse the next morning.
Paige leans forward, chest pressed to Azzi’s back now, lips grazing her shoulder. “You love this, don’t you?”
Azzi nods, breathless. ‘I love you like this. Even when it hurts. Especially when it hurts.’
Paige falters for a second. Just one. That one sentence hitting somewhere between her ribs like a perfectly aimed punch. Then she leans back to slap Azzi’s ass and sink in even deeper, groaning as her hips meet Azzi’s with no space left between them.
“You’re not gonna be able to walk tomorrow, baby,” Paige pants, voice rough at the edges, half-threat, half-promise.
Azzi doesn’t care. She throws her head back with a loud, shameless moan. “Good,” she says, breath catching. “Then I get to spend all day in bed while you take care of me.”
Paige’s hands tighten on her hips. “You’re such a little brat.”
“And you love me like this,” Azzi gasps, pushing back into her.
Paige’s groan is guttural. “Fuck, Az. I love you in every way.”
She leans forward again, her mouth nipping at Azzi’s shoulder, hips moving with a rhythm that’s fast, deep, unrelenting. Every thrust drags pleasure through both of them—Paige gasping quietly with each stroke as the double strap presses inside her too, rubbing against that spot just right. Azzi clenches around her, tight and soaked, and Paige feels it all—the heat, the squeeze, the slick slide that makes her thighs shake.
“You feel how tight you are?” Paige murmurs, biting lightly into Azzi’s skin. “Gripping me like you need it.”
Azzi’s voice breaks. “I do need it. I need all of it. Need you.”
The words hang heavy in the air—vulnerable, raw—but there’s a flicker in her eyes. Still trembling, still wrecked, she plants her hands beneath her, rolls her hips one more time just to prove she can—and then suddenly shifts.
With a sharp breath and a burst of strength, Azzi pushes up off the mattress, twists in Paige’s grip, and flips them both in one fluid motion. Paige lets out a startled gasp as her back hits the bed, eyes wide and heart pounding.
“Damn, Az,” Paige mutters, blinking up at her. “You really just flipped me like that?”
Azzi climbs over her, hair a mess, cheeks flushed, breath caught somewhere between a laugh and a gasp. She leans down dragging her fingers down Paige’s stomach, tracing over the trembling muscles.
“Oh, baby,” she whispers, sweet and filthy. “You didn’t think I was gonna let you have all the fun, did you?”
Paige’s eyes flutter, her pupils blown wide. “You look—fuck—you look unreal right now.”
Azzi smirks, rolling her hips slowly—just enough to make them both feel it. She feels the base of it drag against her own clit, but she’s watching Paige and the way her breath hitches, the soft, helpless moan that spills out when the strap presses back into her too.
“Yeah,” Azzi murmurs, teasing a slow rock of her hips again, “you like when I take over, huh? When I ride you and make you feel it?”
Paige’s jaw tenses, hands gripping Azzi’s thighs. “Yeah. Fuck, Az—every time you move it—”
“I know,” Azzi purrs, leaning in. “You feel me riding you and fucking you at the same time. Bet you love being under me like this.”
Paige’s breath catches. “So fucking much.”
“Good,” Azzi whispers, brushing her lips over Paige’s jaw.
She reaches between them, adjusting the strap with a teasing stroke that makes both of them gasp. Azzi can feel the slick between them, the tension, the heat—and Paige’s body twitching beneath her like she’s barely holding it together.
Then, with one slow, controlled motion, Azzi sinks down—deep, unhurried, stretching around the shaft as Paige moans with her. The strap presses back into both of them, a shared rhythm they can’t escape.
And just like that, Azzi’s in full control—grinding slow, watching Paige unravel beneath her with every move.
She picks up the pace slightly, just enough to drive Paige insane. The way Paige fills her, presses against that perfect spot again and again. “You’re so deep, baby,” Azzi murmurs, biting her lip. “Stretching me out so good. You love watching me fuck myself on you, don’t you?”
Paige’s fingers dig into her thighs. “Yes. God, Az—keep going—please.”
“You love being under me,” Azzi continues, voice silk and fire. “Watching me bounce. Watching my tits move. You love it.”
Azzi slows her pace just enough to make it hurt—dragging every stroke out, holding her breath every time she bottoms out. “I'm so close,” Azzi whispers, breath hot against Paige’s lips. “And I’m not stopping until I’m shaking on top of you.”
That’s all Paige needs.
She digs her heels into the bed and starts thrusting up into her—slow at first, then harder, faster, relentless. Each snap of her hips drives the strap deeper into Azzi and back into herself, sending electric pulses through both of them. Azzi gasps, throwing her head back, hands gripping Paige’s chest for balance as she rides it out.
“Fuck—Paige—” she moans, barely holding on. The angle. The pressure. The way the strap hits just right—it’s too much. Her thighs tighten around Paige’s waist, trying to hold steady, but Paige keeps slamming up into her with perfect precision.
One thrust hits deep and sharp, and Azzi feels it—the bruise forming just below her hip, the jolt of pain edged in pleasure.
“Right there,” she cries out. “God, baby, do that again—”
Paige doesn’t stop. Her hands clamp down on Azzi’s hips, pulling her down hard as she drives up again and again—leaving deep, aching fingerprints.
Azzi gasps, body tightening in a shudder that rolls through her like a wave. She’s coming before she can brace for it, thighs shaking, breath caught between a cry and Paige’s name. Her hands scramble for something to hold onto, nails digging into Paige’s shoulders as she rides the wave.
Paige slows but doesn’t stop, guiding her through it, watching every twitch, every whimper, every aftershock roll through her.
Azzi collapses onto her, panting, sweat-soaked and wrecked.
“Holy shit,” she breathes into Paige’s neck. “Fuck... baby.”
Paige is laughing breathlessly in response. Neither of them says anything for a while. Just the rise and fall of spent bodies, the scent of sex thick in the air, Azzi’s skin buzzing like she’s still being touched.
Now, Paige leaned in the doorway, towel slung over one shoulder, wearing that soft look she only ever showed when no one else was around. Azzi was still perched at the edge of the bed, legs aching, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips despite the wince she gave when she stood.
“C’mon,” Paige says gently from the doorway. “It’s ready.”
Azzi groans dramatically as she stands, limping a little. Paige catches her around the waist.
“Okay, now I actually feel a little bad,” Paige says, eyeing the way Azzi’s legs wobble as they walk.
Azzi leaned into her with a soft laugh. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m tougher than I look.”
“Mm,” Paige said, not buying it. “Tell that to the face your making just tryna walk.”
Azzi didn’t argue. She let herself be led across the room, past the lingering scent of sex and sweat, and into the bathroom, where the air was thick with a lavender scent. The heat hit her legs first, gentle and inviting.
“Careful,” Paige said, holding her hand as she eased in. The water was almost too hot—almost—but the ache in Azzi’s thighs and hips began to melt the moment she sank into it.
She let out a slow exhale, eyes fluttering closed. Paige doesn’t stay at the edge. She climbs in behind her.
Azzi blinks, startled for a second. “You’re getting in too?”
“Duh,” Paige says, settling behind her and pulling Azzi gently back between her legs. “You really thought I was just gonna sit there and let you soak all sore and cute by yourself?”
“You’re not even slick with it.”
“Nope,” Paige murmurs, wrapping her arms around her waist, palms resting just above the bruises on Azzi’s hips. She kisses her temple. “Never had to be.”
The water shifts softly around them as Paige nuzzles the back of Azzi’s neck. The ache in Azzi’s body lingered, but it was softened now — wrapped in heat, in stillness, in Paige. It still hurt, but it was the kind of hurt that made her feel wanted. Claimed. Cherished, even.
“You okay?” Paige asked softly.
Azzi didn’t answer right away. She just reached under the water, found Paige’s hand, and laced their fingers together. Held tight.
Then, without opening her eyes, she said, “Yeah I’m good, P.”
Paige pressed a kiss to the side of her head. “Good,” she whispered.
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.”
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: 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.
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/n: Just a lil birthday fic that an anon requested to celebrate Ken’s @33lol birthday last week 🤭 also, she made the graphic and it's perfect 🥹🥹
wc: 4.3k+
warnings: fluff and then lots of smut, MDNI
After spending last year’s birthdays apart thanks to scheduling conflicts, Paige was determined to make Azzi’s count. She’d spent months turning over ideas, refusing to settle for a simple dinner reservation. This year wasn’t about a night out. It was about a full day of making the person who meant everything to her feel special.
The morning began with them tangled together, Azzi’s face tucked into Paige’s neck while her leg rested over Paige’s waist and her arm lay across her chest. Paige woke to the gentle buzz of her phone letting her know the breakfast she’d ordered the night before was arriving right on time.
Paige made note of how long they had until food would arrive and then looked back at Azzi who was still asleep and breathing slowly and steadily. She smiled and stayed perfectly still, fingers moving gently along Azzi’s back, letting the quiet stretch between them. She wanted to wake her slowly, the way Azzi liked, giving her time to come back to herself and drift toward her again, unhurried and wrapped in the quiet of the morning.
Eventually, Azzi shifted, her nose brushing against Paige’s collarbone.
“Why are you smiling like that, baby?” she mumbled, her voice still heavy with sleep.
Paige smiled down at her. “’Cause it’s your birthday, baby.” She leaned in then, slow and unhurried, kissing Azzi softly on the lips before pulling back to murmur, “Happy birthday, Az.”
Azzi smiled against her lips, eyes still half closed as she chased the kiss for a second longer. “Mm, happy birthday to me,” she murmured, her thumb brushing along Paige’s jaw. “I can’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be.” She tucked herself closer, pressing her forehead to Paige’s. “Spending it with you makes it perfect.”
Paige laughed softly and pressed a lingering kiss to Azzi’s lips before slowly pulling away and untangling herself. “I’ll be right back, baby,” she whispered.
Azzi groaned in protest but smiled, tugging the blankets up as she watched Paige disappear down the hall. From the bedroom, she could hear the quiet rustle of bags and the clink of cups, Paige moving around with purpose.
When Paige came back, she was holding the tray with both hands, careful as she set it down between them. “Okay,” she said, clearly pleased with herself. “Birthday breakfast.”
Azzi pushed herself up, eyes scanning everything before landing on her plate. A fluffy omelette filled with vegetables and avocado sat neatly beside a slice of toast, looking very on brand for her. Next to it was a matcha latte, pale green and foamy.
“For you,” Paige said, nudging the mug closer.
Azzi smiled. “You know me too well.”
Paige’s waffles sat on the other side of the tray, stacked high and drowning in strawberries and Nutella. Azzi eyed them for a second, then reached over and stole a bite without asking.
“Hey,” Paige laughed.
“You knew this was going to happen,” Azzi said, already chewing, unapologetic. “Yours always tastes better.”
Paige shook her head, amused, and cut another piece of waffle, holding it out to her. “At least pretend you want your healthy breakfast.”
Azzi leaned in and took the bite from Paige’s fork, smiling around it before pressing a quick kiss to her cheek. “I do. I just want yours too.”
They settled back against the pillows, sharing food and stealing bites. Paige made sure they never fully untangled whether it was keeping an arm around Azzi’s shoulders or having their legs brush, toes finding each other under the blankets. She knew Azzi needed the closeness, the quiet reassurance of being held, and she gave it freely without thinking twice. Between soft laughter, lazy kisses, and constant little points of contact, it felt like exactly the kind of start Azzi wanted, warm and full and spent right there with Paige.
The rest of the day unfolded exactly the way Paige had planned it, every moment tailored to Azzi. They started at the bookstore, where Paige let Azzi wander as long as she wanted, arms filled with books she tried to put back until Paige insisted on buying anything that caught her eye.
She paid — of course she did — then waited until they were back in the car to pull out a surprise. The custom bookmark made Azzi roll her eyes on instinct. It was a full-on fan bookmark, Paige’s face printed across it alongside photos from her basketball highlights, dramatic and completely unnecessary. The smile that followed gave her away anyway, soft and a little helpless. She kept turning it over in her hand.
Lunch turned into hours once Paige revealed she’d rented out an entire restaurant-bar-arcade. They went head to head on every game in the place, laughing and trash-talking until their sides hurt. Paige became determined in the most endearing way at the claw machine, feeding it far too much money until she finally won Azzi a stuffed animal — a walrus or seal — she wasn’t totally sure, but she was excited to add it to her growing collection of prizes Paige won for her.
In the evening, after returning home to get all dressed up, Paige took Azzi out and led her to a private rooftop bar. The surprise waiting there hit Azzi all at once. Friends, family, familiar faces she hadn’t seen in too long, all gathered for her. The joy of it swelled in her chest, warm and overwhelming, and it all came back to Paige.
As the night wore on, Paige’s touch became more intentional. Her hand lingered longer at the small of Azzi’s back before sliding to her waist, fingers curling to make the message clear. When Azzi leaned in to hear someone speak, Paige’s palm set firmly at her hip, thumb pressing slow, possessive circles like she was reminding her exactly who she belonged to when this was all over.
Every brush felt deliberate now. Azzi lost track of conversations, forgot who was standing nearby, felt her breath catch every time Paige passed behind her. As the party began to thin, Paige wasn’t hiding it anymore. She pressed in behind her making it clear that waiting was becoming a challenge she didn’t plan on handling gently for much longer.
The moment the door closed behind them, the noise of the night finally dropped away. Paige didn’t rush anything. She stayed close, hands settling at Azzi’s waist, holding her to give them both a second to breathe. After hours of talking and moving and being “on,” it felt good to pause — no expectations or need to hurry.
“Happy birthday, Az,” Paige murmured, her voice low and close.
Azzi couldn’t find the words, her thoughts already somewhere warmer. She answered with a slow smile and a soft kiss to Paige’s lips. Paige kissed her back and they settled into each other. Their mouths moved and familiarity soon gave way to the heat building as their mouths moved together, tongues brushing and then pressing closer, breaths starting to lose their rhythm.
Paige’s thumbs pressed in a little firmer before sliding slowly up Azzi’s sides, grazing right beneath her chest. She pulled away from Azzi’s lips, but only to let her mouth find Azzi’s neck instead. Her kisses trailed lower, soft at first, before she caught Azzi’s collarbone gently between her teeth. Paige hovered there, mouth warm and unrelenting, sucking long enough to make sure it would leave its mark.
Azzi breathed out, “Paige,” her voice catching at the end as Paige traced her way back up her neck, lips lingering before catching gently at her earlobe. Her hands followed too, settling on her breasts with intention, holding her steady as her thumbs started rubbing over her nipples through her dress in slow circles, making Azzi’s breath stutter again as she leaned into it.
Paige smiled against her skin. She drew back to meet Azzi’s eyes, her hands still moving over her chest. Then she pinched and pulled at Azzi’s nipples as a way of signaling to move from the doorway.
Paige guided her down the hallway to their bedroom with fingers laced together. She didn’t rush Azzi onto the bed. She took her hand and led her in front of the floor-length mirror instead. Their reflections pressed together, her hands finding Azzi’s sides as she met her gaze through the glass.
“God you’re beautiful,” Paige murmured, voice low and sincere. She pressed a kiss to Azzi’s shoulder, then another higher up. “I love you so much. ”
Her hands moved slowly, deliberately finding the zipper at the back of the dress. She paused there for a second, thumbs brushing over Azzi’s skin before easing it down inch by inch. As the dress loosened, Paige let her hands trail along Azzi’s sides, steady and warm, guiding the fabric down her shoulders. She pressed a kiss to the curve of her neck, then another just below her ear, murmuring, “It’s your birthday. You deserve to feel adored.”
The dress slipped lower, pooling at Azzi’s feet. In the mirror, Azzi caught the way Paige was looking at her, soft and unguarded, taking her in as if this was the first time she’d seen her like this. She loved when Paige looked at her this way.
Paige didn’t rush the next moment. She stayed there with her arms wrapped around Azzi holding her for a bit longer.
“You’re so beautiful, mama,” she murmured softly as she stepped around to face her.
Azzi tilted her head up, already leaning in for a kiss, but Paige slipped away at the last second. Her hands skimmed slowly down Azzi’s sides as she lowered herself, eyes never leaving her face. Paige guided Azzi back a step, her hands firm at her hips. She couldn’t help but bite her bottom lip as she watched Paige sink to her knees in front of her, anticipation curling low in her stomach. Paige was moving the thong to the side before her knees hit the ground.
Azzi half expected for Paige to make her wait, to draw it out at the pace she’d been moving at since they came home, but instead she immediately felt a long, slender finger run through her folds in a slow swipe from her entrance to her clit.
“So wet for me already.” Paige thought to herself not realizing she had said it out loud.
Azzi moaned at the intrusion, her hips twitching as her hand flew to Paige’s shoulder for some kind of stability as the sensation ran through her.
“So sensitive.”
Then she felt Paige spread her open and kiss at her most sensitive part. It was gentle in a way that made her knees buckle. And then she stuck her tongue out and gave her clit the softest kitten lick igniting every nerve.
“Fuck, P.”
The scent of arousal and the taste of Azzi on her tongue erased any restraint Paige had left. She ate Azzi like she was starving, switching between licking the full length of her pussy and sucking on her clit. She never stayed with one rhythm for too long.
One of Azzi’s hands was anchored on Paige’s shoulder while the other slid into the blonde’s hair, fingers tightening there without thought. Azzi tugged on Paige’s hair harder than she meant, pulling Paige away from her center. She used it as an opportunity to take a quick breath and let the birthday girl know how much she was enjoying herself.
“You taste so good, babygirl — could eat you all night.”
Azzi whispered, “Feels so good, honey,” her palm warm against Paige’s cheek as her thumb dragged a slow, familiar path along her cheekbone. Paige held her gaze, eyes soft and open, letting Azzi see all the love she carried for her in that quiet moment before leaning into her touch.
They held each other’s gaze for a moment longer, Azzi’s breath hitching as she took in the sight of her girl on her knees, looking up at her with hooded blue eyes, drunk off her pussy. She bit her lip, unable to look away, watching Paige lean back in and latch onto her clit, never breaking eye contact.
It all became too much at once, she squeezed her eyes shut and threw her head back, a pornographic moan spilling from her before she could stop it.
Then she felt Paige’s tongue shift, sliding toward her entrance before pressing fully into her. Paige groaned at the warmth around her tongue, the sound vibrating low in her chest. She settled into it quickly, drawing back slightly before pushing in again, finding a pace that felt purposeful, controlled, and relentless.
Azzi hadn’t meant to look at the mirror, but the movement pulled her in and refused to let go. She watched herself grind her hips into Paige’s face, watched herself as her hand threaded through her girlfriend’s hair and tugged her closer. The confidence in it, the way she didn’t look away, only made it hotter.
“God, baby — don’t stop.” Azzi managed to say between moans.
Paige hummed in acknowledgment, nose pressing into Azzi’s clit letting Azzi grind — no fuck herself — on Paige’s face. Paige was more than happy to let her even if she couldn’t breath all that well.
“Shit baby.”
“I’m so close.”
Paige shook her head in acknowledgement and started moving quicker. Her hands had been firmly planted on Azzi’s ass, but she knew what would get her to her first release of many — she hoped. So Paige moved her hands up Azzi’s sides and further up still to her breasts. She started playing with her nipples. Flicking her thumbs quickly over the hardened buds.
“Oh, fuck — daddy.” Azzi practically screamed.
Paige palmed Azzi’s tits, massaging them firmly as her mouth found Azzi’s clit and sucked hard. The pleasure hit her all at once and Azzi came with a broken gasp, her knees nearly giving out beneath her. Paige caught her immediately, arms wrapping around her waist to keep her balanced, holding her close as she kept licking and kissing her through it.
Once she cleaned her all up, not leaving a drop behind, she kissed a path up Azzi’s body to her lips, letting Azzi taste herself on her lips and tongue.
“Ready for more, mama.” Paige couldn’t hold back the grin on her face.
Azzi nodded, already anticipating what Paige had planned.
Paige took Azzi’s hand and led her toward the bed. She stripped Azzi of her thong and bra, then quickly shed her own clothes in between kisses that never broke the moment. She sat on the edge of the bed and gestured for Azzi to lay across her lap, ass up. The shift in dynamic made Azzi blush, heat creeping up her neck, but the excitement underneath it had her almost giddy.
She complied, crawling into Paige’s lap, her breathing already uneven as her pussy ached with expectation. Paige’s hands stayed on her ass, rubbing and massaging it slowly. Azzi whined, biting her lip at the way her body moved beneath Paige’s touch, the control in it sending a shiver through her.
“I know whatchu need, mama,” Paige murmured possessively.
Azzi shifted slightly in her lap, breath hitching. “Oh yeah, P?” she asked, the words coming out as more of a challenge than she meant.
Paige’s fingers dug in a little. “Some birthday spankings,” she said, already sounding pleased with herself.
“Fuck — yes, please.”
Paige groaned at her eagerness. “You gonna count for me?”
“Yes, daddy.”
“Good girl.” Paige didn’t hide the satisfaction in her voice. “Guess how many spankings you’re gonna get, birthday girl?”
Azzi barely hesitated. “Twenty-four?”
“That’s right, babygirl,” Paige said softly.
And then, without warning, she gave Azzi’s ass a sharp smack. Azzi moaned at the impact, the sting blooming where Paige’s hand had landed.
“You gotta count, mama — remember?” Paige reminded her, voice gentle on the surface but edged with a tone that made it clear she didn’t want her to forget again.
“One…”
Paige lifted her hand and smacked her ass again, landing in the same spot. The skin there was already flushed, sensitive under her palm.
“Two…”
Paige repeated the process, each spank coming a little harder as she worked her way closer to the number she had in mind. Azzi could feel herself dripping down her thighs, the mix of ache and need overwhelming in the best way.
“Twenty-three…” Azzi whispered breathlessly, the number barely making it past her lips.
“Last one, Az,” Paige said, giving her a warning before the final spank cracked through the room.
“Oh fuck — twenty-four.” Azzi went lax at once, eyes slipping shut as she tried to pull herself back into her body, breath coming uneven.
Paige’s hand immediately softened, rubbing over Azzi’s ass to soothe the skin. She leaned down, pressing a few gentle kisses to Azzi’s back before shifting her weight. Azzi felt the movement and took the hint, easing herself off Paige’s lap and settling at the edge of the bed, waiting, anticipation coiling low.
Paige stood and leaned back in, lips brushing Azzi’s ear as she whispered, “On your knees, ma.”
The words sent a jolt straight through her. Azzi moved quickly, positioning herself on the bed as instructed. Paige gave her a small wink of approval before turning away and walking to the bedside table. She made quick work of the harness, pushing the vibrating end inside herself and turning it on before looking back at Azzi.
“Why don’t you get daddy’s cock nice and ready, baby?”
Azzi’s mouth started salivating immediately. She leaned forward onto all fours as Paige steadied the base of the strap, letting Azzi take control from there. She started slow, licking the tip first before swirling her tongue around it and taking the purple dildo into her mouth.
Paige pushed Azzi’s hair out of her face so she could watch. She looked so good like this, sucking on it. Paige swore she could almost feel it like it. Azzi pushed the cock further back, making her gag.
“Fuck, babygirl. You like sucking on daddy’s cock?”
Azzi hummed in agreement and started moving quicker. Paige felt the shift on her end that was pushed, vibrating inside her still.
“Such a good girl for me, Az.”
“Look so good like this.”
“Fuck — keep going just like that.”
Whenever Paige got talkative like this, Azzi knew she was close. Paige loved talking dirty almost as much as Azzi loved hearing it, and the tone of her voice gave her away every time. Azzi could already tell she’d be sore for days after tonight. She started thinking about the strap filling her and her pussy clenched in anticipation. Before her thoughts could linger, Paige started moving her hips slightly, pushing the strap into Azzi’s mouth further.
Azzi could hear Paige’s groans fill the room. She thought maybe Paige would come just from this — she had before — but Paige had other plans tonight. Azzi felt Paige’s hands settle on her shoulders, guiding her back down onto the bed.
Azzi could feel her pulse throbbing through her pussy as Paige hovered over her. Paige pressed her forehead to Azzi’s, breath close and heavy, before running the tip of the strap through her folds, slow and deliberate. She covered Azzi’s mouth with a kiss, swallowing the groan that was already breaking free.
“Shit, P. I need it.”
“Whatchu need, mama?”
“Need you — please,” she all but cried.
“You gotta be more specific.”
“Need you inside me right now,” she pleaded.
Paige obliged, pushing into Azzi, quick and hard.
“Oh fuck….”
Paige pulled back and pumped in again, a little harder this time. Then she shifted, lifting one of Azzi’s legs and settling her calf over her shoulder to change the angle. Azzi felt it immediately, the difference sharp and overwhelming, swearing the strap was in her stomach. Paige found a steady rhythm there and kept fucking Azzi like that, deep and relentless, holding her right where she wanted her.
“God — you’re so deep.”
Knowing Azzi was getting close already, she slowed down with her next push, letting Azzi feel every inch of the strap.
“Pussy so tight for me.”
“Feels so good, daddy.”
“Good, baby. I’m glad.” She said it with a smirk, a knowing glint in her eye. Azzi barely had time to wonder what the look meant before Paige pulled out of her, and the sudden emptiness tore a whine from her throat before she could stop it.
Her pussy ached to be filled again.
As if she were reading her mind, Paige reassured her, “Imma get you right, mama. You know that.”
Azzi’s eyes rolled back as she saw stars from the pleasure, the rush hitting her all at once and stealing her breath. Her hands were gripping Paige’s arms, fingers digging in, and she knew she’d left marks from the way she clenched down, body reacting before she could think to stop it.
Paige slapped it again.
She heard the slick first, a wet, unmistakable sound that made her breath hitch, then felt it splatter warm against her thighs. She knew it was probably a mess down there, and she knew without looking that some of it got on Paige too, the thought sent a sharp pulse of heat straight through her.
“That pussy’s mine, huh Az?”
“Yes, daddy. All yours.”
Then Paige flipped her onto her knees, pushing her down until her ass was up. She gave Azzi’s ass a hard smack, the sound sharp in the room, before driving into her from behind.
“Fuck… oh fuck — daddy — okay fuck.”
The pace was overwhelming. She could feel every smack of Paige’s hips against her ass as she bottomed out. Paige’s fingers were gripping her hips with an intensity that would definitely leave bruises to remember in the morning. She was talking filthy too — Azzi couldn’t even make out the words anymore, not over her own moans ringing in her ears as the pressure kept building with every stroke.
Azzi was so lost in it she didn’t hear Paige tell her to hold it. She started driving herself back into Paige’s thrusts instead, meeting her halfway, chasing the feeling without thinking. Paige let her do it a few more times, letting Azzi fuck herself back into her, before finally bending down, pressing close enough to kiss Azzi’s shoulder and whisper something low into her ear.
“Baby, did you hear me?”
That snapped Azzi out of the haze she’d been drifting in. “Sorry, daddy — shit feels so good,” she breathed, trying to catch herself. “What did you say?”
“I said you gotta hold it until I say so, mama.”
Azzi nodded, “Okay, daddy.” She loved when Paige made her wait, when she drew it out enough to make her beg for the release she knew was coming.
Paige started thrusting into her again, slow at first before quickly picking up the pace. She grabbed a fistful of Azzi’s hair and tugged, pulling an arch from her back. The bed creaked beneath them with each movement, the room thick with heat and the sound of uneven breathing. Their moans synced unintentionally, ragged and uncontrollable, bodies slick with sweat and sticky from how long they’d been tangled together.
“You wanna come, Az?”
“Fuck — please.”
“You can beg better than that, babygirl.”
“Please.”
“Please, daddy.”
“Fuck, please.”
“Wanna come all over your dick.”
“That’s a good fucking girl.” Paige replied with a smirk.
Paige reached around and found Azzi’s clit and started rubbing rough circles while continuing to pump into her fast. The pressure built too quickly, too intensely, until it only took a few more thrusts before Azzi was screaming her girlfriend’s name, voice breaking as it tore out of her. Paige didn’t pull out right away. She stayed there, holding her in place, letting Azzi ride out her high a little longer until her body finally went slack.
When Paige finally pulled out, Azzi flipped onto her back, chest rising and falling as she tried to find her bearings again. The room felt hazy, edges blurred, her head still swimming when she caught sight of Paige removing the harness and strap. She was so far gone that when Paige climbed over her and closed the space between them, sucking one of her nipples into her mouth, Azzi gasped sharply, and she thought she might tip right over the edge all over again.
“I want to feel you, mama.” Paige said tenderly before lining herself up to Azzi and grinding down into her. Paige’s pussy was absolutely dripping and when their lips touched her slick spread and mixed with Azzi’s.
And then their clits caught and rubbed together in the most perfect way.
“God, damn.” Paige breathed. “You see what you do to me, Az.”
“Fuck, P. You’re so wet.”Azzi gasped.
Paige smiled at her. “All because of you.”
Azzi whimpered, “Don’t stop — please. I’m gonna come again.”
Paige ground into Azzi harder, not giving her any room to breathe. Azzi clawed at her back, nails dragging, a broken sound slipping out of her throat. The friction built fast and unrelenting, leaving them breathless and shaking, both of them chasing the same moment, refusing to let go until they reached it together.
Neither of them lasted very long, and they came together — breathless and clinging — with each other’s names falling from their lips.
Afterward, everything slowed. Paige guided Azzi down with her, pulling her close until there was nothing between them, skin warm against skin. They were tangled together, foreheads touching, trading lazy kisses. Paige traced gentle patterns along Azzi’s back keeping her present while she was thinking about all the birthdays and mornings still ahead.
Azzi moved nearer, tucking herself against Paige, the rise and fall of her breath evening out as the quiet wrapped around them. Paige pressed a kiss to her hair, then her temple, pausing there.
“Did you have a good birthday?” she asked softly.
Azzi smiled against her skin, arms tightening around her just a little. “The best.”
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.”
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, here it is. i seriously wrote for like three days straight to get this out asap and i got tired of editing so this is as good as it's gonna get… god i hope this doesn't suck lol. also, didn't mean for this to be so long, got carried away ig. anyways, always love reactions, thanks for reading. enjoy!!!
warnings: sexual content, minors DNI
wc: 8k+
The locker room was loud. Too loud for the hangover Paige had been nursing all day. Music was bouncing off the walls while players shuffled between lockers and mirrors, getting ready for the All-Star game. Paige was sitting in front of her assigned locker, taking in the moment, still trying to process the weekend and how she really was living out her childhood dream right now.
Her phone buzzed in her lap.
Two new texts from Azzi.
First: a picture.
Hotel closet rack with one dress hung up. Black. Strategic neckline with some lace fringing the bottom hem. Paige knew what that dress was capable of.
Second text:
Thoughts?
Paige squinted at it, already feeling the beginnings of a smirk.
Paige stared at the screen for a full beat, teeth catching her bottom lip. She could see it. The way that fabric would slide across Azzi’s hips, the dip at her waist, the way her collarbone would stand out like punctuation under the lights.
Typed:
10/10 but it’s missing one thing.
Azzi:
??
Paige:
You in it.
“Yo, what got you smiling like that?” Courtney’s voice came from the other side of the suite. Paige didn’t even look up.
“Daaamn,” she said, grinning like she just hit a stepback three. “That what Azzi rockin’? Tell her bring a mop, not a fan—gon’ have folks slippin' from all the drool.”
Paige didn’t even blink. “Court.”
“What?” Courtney held up her hands, still grinning. “I’m just sayin’. She step out in that? Whew. She ain’t leavin' with just you.”
“Chill on my girl before I get mad for real.”
Courtney grinned, hands up. “Okay, okay. I’m just saying if she show up lookin’ like that? League in trouble.”
Paige just shook her head, the ghost of a smirk pulling at her mouth.
Her thumb hovered over the screen again and she started typing again.
Paige:
You’re gonna be the problem at All-Star, not me.
Read.
Then three little dots.
Then:
“Good. I like being your problem.”
Paige dropped her forehead to her knee with a groan.
Yeah. She was so screwed.
*********
They were lined up along the sideline, half-zipped in warmups, waiting on intros. Someone was messing around with a halfcourt shot, a couple players in the corner dancing for the Jumbotron. Paige bounced the ball once, twice. Rolled her shoulders back. Tried not to look toward the tunnel again.
She’d already looked twice.
She was chewing on the bottom of her lip when the players parted—just a little—and there she was.
Azzi.
Walking like the moment belonged to her—and it kinda did. Hair pulled up with curls framing her face, black sunglasses hiding her eyes, and that black dress hugging every damn thing it needed to and revealing more than enough. That fucking dress.
Paige swallowed once, blinked twice. Didn’t even try to hide how she was staring.
Angel noticed.
Next to her, Angel let out a low whistle. “Shit, P. Your girl really tryna end lives tonight, huh?”
Paige didn’t answer right away.
Just watched Azzi pause, scan the court, spot her, smile. The same smile she’s seen all weekend that makes her melt. Makes her turn into the ultimate simp. At least that’s what all her UConn teammates say and well, she can’t even argue because it’s the truth.
“She looks good,” Angel added, teasing.
“She looks like trouble,” Paige said, half under her breath.
She snapped her eyes back to the court. Shook her arms out. Mind on the game.
She wanted to make the most of her All Star minutes, knowing they’d be limited. Paige didn’t care about her stats, but she wanted to show out a little bit if she could. If for no one other than her girl sitting courtside looking like a baddie.
First possession. Paige rolled off a screen and the ball swung her way. She caught, set, and let it fly from the All-Star four-point spot. It rattled in the rim a few times for dropping. First points of the game.
First four-pointer in All-Star history. The arena cracked open. Her whole bench jumped, but Paige didn’t look their way. She looked straight into the crowd—into that UConn cluster on the sideline, all standing, all yelling—and locked eyes with Azzi.
Who was smirking. Like she knew that shot was going in. Like she expected it.
Paige hit her with a wink. Quick. Followed by a smug grin and eyebrow raise as if to say yeah I just did that.
***********
Halftime.
Paige didn’t give a shit about the score. They were up by a lot. You could barely call this an exhibition game with the way everyone refused to play defense and how everyone insisted on taking shots from the four-point line. It didn’t even matter, to be honest. They were just here to have a good time and celebrate being at the top of the league.
She found herself veering toward the sidelines, as if it wasn’t obvious where she was going.
Azzi was standing now. Still in the dress. Still unfair. Up close, it was worse.
The lace.
Goddamn, the lace.
Paige’s eyes caught on it before her brain did, right there between the opening of her collared dress— a black lace bra and more than enough cleavage on display. She blinked, forced herself to look higher. Then lower again. Then she gave up and just let her eyes linger for a second or two or three…
This might be the hottest fit she’d ever seen on Azzi. And that was saying something.
This was a problem. She still had another half to play?
“Hey,” Azzi said, soft, warm while standing to give Paige an unclose look at her fit.
“Hi,” Paige answered, voice gone a little hoarse.
Jana took her out of her daze for a brief moment going in for a hug. She barely remembers hugging Jana and then Caroline. Her nervous system clearly shocked by Azzi and that damn dress.
She went in for a hug with Azzi before she could even process it. She had half-draped herself across a chair from the row that separated them, squeezing past some other spectators, and was leaning down awkwardly. The fact that Azzi was standing and Paige was hunched over didn’t help the interaction that came next.
It made it worse.
Paige's face landed half on Azzi’s shoulder, half against her chest—lace and skin and perfume and heartbeat—and she didn’t move right away, didn’t really want to, and Azzi didn’t seem in any rush to let go either.
“Nice opening shot,” she murmured near her ear.
Paige pulled back, finally. “Nice dress.”
Azzi just smiled. “I know.”
Of course she did.
Azzi was clinging to her arm just the way she knew Paige loved. Whatever conversation her former teammates were trying to have with her went in one ear and out the other. She was too busy checking out her girl.
Then she caught it—some guy off to the side, staring at Azzi the same way she had been. Paige tried to brush it off, but something flared hot in her chest. She shook her head and took a step back before she did something insane like climb over the row of seats and press her face into Azzi’s chest just to make a point.
********
She made it maybe five steps after walking away from the group before her brain started betraying her.
The hug hadn’t helped. The press of lace against her cheek. The slow drag of Azzi’s fingertips along her back like she wasn’t trying to ruin Paige’s second half. Like she didn’t know exactly what she was doing.
Paige could still feel it—how soft the fabric was, how close it sat against skin. Her mind filled in the rest before she could stop it.
The thong had a match. Of course it did.
She pictured it automatically: the curve of Azzi’s hips, that thin black lace thong hugging the sharp cut of her waist, straps arching high over her hip bones, delicate and deliberate. Bare at the sides, practically see-through in the front, vanishing in the back. Just the idea of it—how the dress clung over it, how it would peel away slow—made Paige’s pulse stutter.
Heat bloomed, low and sudden. Settled hard between her legs, spreading fast. Compression shorts doing absolutely nothing to help.
She clenched her jaw. Shook out her hands.
Focus. Just get through the second half.
Get through it and then—
Then it was just the hotel room.
Just her and Azzi. No cameras. No crowd. No dress.
Just what was under it.
She closed her eyes for half a second.
Big mistake.
Because now her brain was playing the next part in full detail—Azzi standing over her, smug and slow, unzipping that dress like a threat. Paige on her knees, hands already slipping beneath lace.
She groaned, under her breath. Physically had to reset herself.
Across the court, someone called her name.
She opened her eyes. Breathed in. Out. Shook her head.
Twenty more minutes.
She could survive that.
Probably.
********
They’d won by a landslide.
Not that Paige had really registered the final score—she was focused on the fact that All Star weekend was coming to end and Azzi had decided to be absolute menace on the last night by wearing that dress.
It took everything in her not to pull Azzi in for a kiss out there on the court, but Paige liked having some things just for themselves. She was talking with Azzi, Caroline, and Jana in a roped-off section, finalizing plans for the evening.
And then Caroline turned to her, grinning way too wide.
“So… how’s it feel knowing your girlfriend’s taller than you now?”
Paige blinked. “What?”
Caroline just nodded toward the Azzi’s shoes. “Those heels? She’s got, like, a full two inches on you tonight. It’s giving little spoon energy.”
Paige ignored the annoying comment and asked, “Is she actually taller than me right now?”
“Yes,” Jana said immediately.
Caroline didn’t even try to hide her smirk. “Oh, absolutely. Towering.”
Paige narrowed her eyes, took two steps forward toward Azzi, then slowly rose up onto her tiptoes—trying to gauge it. “Okay but like… am I taller now?”
The group watched. Azzi tilted her head down, smiling like she was trying not to laugh.
“Still got you beat,” Azzi said.
“By a lot?” Paige asked, still toe-lifted, like sheer willpower could close the gap, as if this even mattered right now.
Caroline made a face. “Enough that it’s not close.”
Jana nodded. “You look like you’d say ‘yes, ma’am’ and mean it.”
Paige dropped back to her heels with a sigh. “Y’all are so annoying.”
Azzi just leaned in, lips barely brushing her ear. “You know you like it.”
Paige felt her face go warm instantly. Stepped back before someone clocked how fast her heart just jumped.
******
As soon as the hotel room door clicked shut behind them.
Paige didn’t waste a second. Her hands were already on Azzi’s hips, fingers slipping under the hem of that black dress, mouth finding her neck like she’d been starved for it—which, honestly, she had.
“You’ve been teasing me since warmups,” Paige murmured against her skin. “You gonna let me take this off now or what?”
Azzi laughed, low and unbothered. “No.”
Paige froze. “No?”
Azzi stepped back, eyes amused. “We’ve got after-parties to hit, Bueckers. You can wait.”
Paige looked wrecked. “I don’t care about parties.”
“Well, I do. And you’re not messing up my makeup before the night even starts.”
Paige groaned, flopped dramatically onto the bed. “You’re actually evil.”
“Just patient.”
They stayed like that for a beat—Paige lying flat on her back, limbs sprawled, eyes closed like she was trying to breathe through it. Azzi moved around the room calmly, tossing her heels onto the floor, and finding a spot next to Paige on the bed.
“What party are we going to?” Paige finally asked, still sprawled on the bed like her body had clocked out post-game.
Azzi didn’t look up from where she was digging through her bag. “Whichever one gives us the best chance at avoiding the StudBudz.”
Paige laughed. “Ain’t tryna get caught on the livestream again?”
“Fuck, no,” Azzi said. “I’m not ending up on TikTok sandwiched between T and Court.”
Paige snorted. “You’d go viral.”
“Nobody would ever hear from me again.”
Paige rolled onto her side, grinning. “I get it, babe. Respect the self-preservation. Wanna see my outfit for tonight?”
Paige sat up, already grabbing for the sweater and shorts. “Prepare to be obsessed.”
Azzi smirked. “Too late.”
Paige smirked. “Cool. Gimme twenty.”
She grabbed her bag and headed to the bathroom. Azzi flopped onto the bed, laying back like this was just another hotel room, another night together—but her brain was far from chill.
The sound of the shower kicked on.
Azzi closed her eyes for a second. She could still see Paige in that All-Star uniform. Focused. Confident. Dripping sweat and dominance.
Paige is so fucking hot she thought to herself. She’d been wet since Paige had sent her a selfie in the locker room in her All-Star warmups.
By the time Paige walked out again, towel-dried hair messy, skin still warm from the shower, Azzi was already half-sitting up.
The sweater was cream. Soft, just oversized enough, sleeveless and showing off her toned arms. And the shorts—denim, sitting low on her waist, legs long. Casual like she didn’t know what she was doing.
Azzi’s mouth actually parted for a second before she could control it.
Paige clocked it instantly. “Told you.”
Azzi blinked once, eyes dragging slow over her body. She stood up, smooth and quiet, and started walking.
“Where you going?” Paige asked, even though she already knew.
Azzi didn’t answer.
She just pushed her gently back onto the bed, climbed into her lap, and said, “Sit still.”
She kissed her. Then climbed into her lap—slow, deliberate, dress riding up as she moved.
Paige’s hands came to rest automatically at her waist.
Azzi caught them. “Still no undressing me.”
Paige let out a strangled sound.
“I said after the party,” Azzi whispered, voice right at her ear. “But… you’ve been good. Maybe you deserve a little something.”
She reached under her dress, pulled her thong down in one smooth motion—black lace, damp and delicate. She held it between two fingers, watching Paige’s pupils blow wide.
Then she smiled, all sharp edges and affection.
“Open.”
Azzi slid the thong between her lips, slow, deliberate, keeping just enough tension in her fingers to make it feel like a command. The lace was still warm from her skin—damp, clinging, soaked through with heat—and the second it hit Paige’s tongue, she tasted her.
Salt, musk, sweetness. Sharp and heady and unmistakably Azzi.
Paige whimpered, low in her throat. It wasn’t much—barely anything—but it hit like a punch. Her thighs pressed together on instinct, breath catching hard in her chest.
Azzi leaned in, lips close to her ear.
“This is the only taste you’re getting.”
Paige’s jaw tensed. Her fingers curled uselessly into the sheets. And the thong—wet, fragrant, humiliating and perfect—stayed exactly where Azzi put it.
Azzi straddled her again, knees pressing into the mattress, thighs bracketing Paige’s hips. The lace of her dress bunched around her waist, warm skin against Paige’s lap, and she moved—slow, deliberate—grinding down until she found the right spot. The curve of Paige’s thigh, firm and flexed, right where she wanted it.
She rolled her hips once, exhaled hard. That heat had been building all night.
Now she was dripping.
“Don’t move,” she murmured, lips brushing Paige’s cheek. “No hands. No helping.”
Paige nodded, barely, the thong still held gently between her teeth, hands clenched into the bedspread.
Azzi rocked again, pace unhurried, dragging slick heat over Paige’s leg. She could feel how tense she was underneath—every muscle tight, held in check by sheer will.
She leaned in, biting Paige’s jaw just enough. “And don’t cum. I mean it.”
Paige’s breath hitched.
“You want me later?” Azzi whispered. “You better show me some control.”
Every grind sent a jolt straight through Paige’s core, sharp and electric, like her body was trying to short-circuit under the weight of it. Azzi moved slow—too slow—dragging slick heat across the curve of Paige’s thigh with precision, her rhythm steady, unforgiving. Paige could feel the damp slide of her, even through the denim of her shorts—Azzi soaking her through the fabric.
Azzi was trembling now—barely—but Paige felt it. The faint stutter of her breath near her ear, the little shake in her thighs every time she rolled down a little harder.
Paige’s hands clenched tighter in the bedspread, knuckles white.
Every second was a test.
Every grind whispered don’t touch, don’t help, don’t come.
And all she could do was take it.
Azzi kept going, kept using her, a rhythm building between them.
When she finally shuddered, hips slowing, face tucked into Paige’s neck, Paige let out a sound that was half whimper, half desperate prayer.
Azzi kissed her jaw once, then climbed off her lap, grabbing her thong from Paige’s mouth and shimmied them back on as if nothing happened.
Paige didn’t even try to stand. She just stared at the ceiling, ruined.
Her shorts?
Definitely not wearable anymore.
Good thing she brought another pair.
************
The party was mid, at best.
I guess it was probably hard to live up to last night’s festivities. Even so, Paige wasn’t going to let a trash DJ ruin her night. Azzi was next to her—pressed into her, really—and that was all that mattered.
They’d been glued together since they walked in. Paige’s hand hadn’t left Azzi’s back all night, thumb resting in the curve where her dress dipped low. Not in a possessive way. Just… connected. Quietly claiming. And Azzi didn’t mind. She kept one hand tucked around Paige’s waist like she needed the contact just as much.
They weren’t being loud about it. Just there. Constant.
“I’m really proud of you,” Azzi said suddenly, barely audible over the bass.
Paige turned, already smiling. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. You’re an All-Star. You looked so damn good out there.” Azzi leaned in, kissed the edge of her jaw. “Made it look easy.”
Paige shook her head. “I don’t think anyone’s ever made me feel cooler than you just did.”
Azzi laughed. “I mean it.”
Paige leaned in close, nose brushing Azzi’s cheek. “I’m proud of you, too.”
Azzi tilted her head, curious.
Paige didn’t hesitate. “The pod launch? You’re killing it. And all the off-court stuff you’ve been doing? The motion you’ve been bringing lately... ”
Azzi smiled, slow and a little shy.
Paige continued. “And last night?”
Azzi raised a brow. Not sure where Paige was going with this.
“You threw the best party of the weekend.”
Azzi grinned. “You’re just saying that because you got to leave early with me.”
“That helped,” Paige admitted. “But no—people are still talking about it. Best vibes. Best music. Good food and drinks. You did that.”
Azzi rolled her eyes playfully, but her smile was soft.
They drifted to a quieter spot where Gabby and Marine were holding down a couch, looking equally unimpressed with the current vibe. The four of them fell into an easy conversation—nothing deep, but real enough to feel like something.
Paige sat close, her hand still ghosting across the small of Azzi’s back, not needing to say anything else for a while.
She’d already said the important stuff.
They settled in with Gabby and Marine—Azzi curled slightly into Paige’s side, Paige half-listening as Gabby told. It was easy. Unforced. The kind of conversation that didn’t need constant energy to stay alive.
All weekend, it had been like that. Somehow, between practice runs, media appearances, and a thousand other faces, they’d found a pocket of quiet with these two. A rhythm.
Azzi laughed at something Marine said, and Paige watched her for a second—how relaxed she looked now. At ease in a way Paige didn’t always see. She felt it too.
They’d made some new friends this weekend.
Azzi shifted next to her, pulling her tiny purse to the front. “Can you hold my phone?” she asked, already handing it over.
Paige blinked at her. “Why do you even carry that thing? It’s like the size of a granola bar.”
Azzi shrugged, deadpan. “It holds what it needs to.”
Paige turned her body, tucking the phone into her back pocket. Or trying to. She had to shove it a little.
Azzi watched, amused. “Tight fit?”
“Yeah, well, it’s not me stuffing my entire life into a clutch the size of a Band-Aid.”
Azzi leaned in, voice low. “That’s because it’s already got some things in it.”
Paige paused. Turned to look at her.
Azzi’s expression was way too calm. That familiar gleam in her eyes—the menace mode Paige had come to know way too well. She narrowed her eyes.
“What kind of things?” Paige asked.
Azzi just smiled, kissed her cheek, let her hand squeeze gently at Paige’s bicep. Then leaned in, mouth brushing the shell of her ear.
“You wanna find out?”
Paige didn’t say anything. Didn’t have to.
That stupid, wide-ass grin spread across her face—slow and full of oh, she’s really gonna kill me tonight realization.
“Yeah,” she said finally, voice already wrecked. “I really, really do.”
The club bathroom was just loud enough—music pulsing faintly through overhead speakers, muffling the occasional laugh or high heel click. Paige followed Azzi in without thinking, heart pounding like she’d already lost control.
They slipped into the last stall—floor-to-ceiling door, real lock, private enough to disappear.
Azzi clicked the lock shut behind them, then turned to face her. Calm. Composed.
Paige, on the other hand, was vibrating just from proximity.
She opened her mouth to say something—she didn’t know what—but Azzi held up a finger.
“Don’t speak.”
Paige’s jaw clicked shut.
Azzi didn’t reach for her.
Not at first.
She reached into her tiny purse.
And pulled out something small. Silver. Familiar.
Paige’s eyes widened as Azzi raised the bullet vibrator between two fingers like she was showing off a secret.
“You brought that?”
Azzi didn’t answer. Just smirked.
Paige’s breath caught as Azzi stepped in close, pressing her gently back against the cool tile wall. Her legs parted instinctively, welcoming the heat. The want.
Azzi kissed her once, deep and slow, and then slipped a hand under the hem of her shorts—no hesitation.
The vibrator came to life with a low hum.
And then it was on her.
Right through her underwear, pressed against her clit—perfectly placed, already devastating.
Paige gasped, had to bite her own wrist to stay quiet.
She didn’t tease with words. She let the pressure do it for her. Let the rhythm wind Paige tighter and tighter until she was trembling, thighs flexing, hips twitching just so—
And then Azzi pulled it away.
“Fuck—” Paige choked out, grabbing for Azzi’s shoulder.
Azzi gave her a look.
Paige stilled.
The vibrator came back. Pressed harder this time. The friction through soaked fabric was unbearable. Too much.
Azzi didn’t say a word. Instead, she shut off the vibrator—again. She was ruthless. Pulling her close. Then pulling her back. Over and over. Paige was losing it.
“Are you gonna edge me all night?” she whispered, voice raw.
Azzi didn’t hesitate.
“Yes.”
Paige let her head fall back against the tile with a soft thud. “You’re actually insane.”
The vibrator clicked off for the last time, silence crashing down in its place, well except for the muffled bass from the club’s sound system. Paige was wrecked—shaking, panting, a whimper caught in her throat as Azzi calmly cleaned the toy and slid it back into that tiny purse like this was just a regular night out.
“Okay. So you hate me. That’s what this is,” Paige muttered.
Azzi smiled, leaned in close. “You know I do it cause I love you.”
Paige didn’t move for a long second.
Still leaned back against the cool tile, legs shaking, heart in her throat. Her boxers clung wetly to her skin. Her whole body was screaming.
She let out a ragged breath.
“I need a minute,” she muttered.
Azzi smiled—smug, satisfied—but gentle now. She stepped forward and tucked herself into Paige’s side without a word, looping her arms around her waist. They stood like that for a while, swaying a little to the dull thump of music outside the stall. Paige rested her forehead against Azzi’s collarbone, body still humming.
She kissed her there—soft, just above the neckline of her dress.
Then again, higher.
Then her jaw.
“Still pissed at you,” she mumbled.
“Mm-hmm.”
Paige kissed her again. “Hate you.”
“No, you don’t.”
“I know, I love you so much,” she said, lips brushing Azzi’s skin. “Like. So fucking much.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
She kept whispering it, over and over again, in between little kisses—like she couldn’t stop. Like it was the only thing keeping her grounded.
“I love you. I love you. God, I’m still mad for edging me. But I love you.”
Azzi chuckled a little and just held her tighter. Let her body relax after all the teasing. Eventually, they pulled apart, still quiet, still warm, and stepped out of the stall.
The mirror was a situation.
Paige blinked at her reflection. “Holy shit.”
Her hair was everywhere. Her lips were swollen. There was lipstick smudged up one cheek, and a faded streak of foundation across her chin.
She turned to Azzi. “Okay, this is your fault.”
Azzi laughed. “I think we are equally to blame here.”
“Nah, deadass, this one’s on you.”
“No one made you follow me in here, baby.”
“Shut up.” Paige reached for a paper towel and dabbed at her mouth, trying to clean off the lipstick. “This is fucking crazy.”
“You weren’t complaining five minutes ago.”
Paige rolled her eyes, managing to get most of the lipstick off. Her chin, though—that was another story. She kept rubbing, but the foundation was stubborn as hell. “Why is this on me like that?”
Azzi was grinning way too hard. “Longwear. Expensive. Good luck.”
“Longwear? How the fuck did it get on me then? I swear to God, Azzi—everyone’s gonna see it.”
“And?”
“I’m gonna get cooked.”
“Oh, for sure.”
Paige groaned, dragging a hand down her face—but the smile was already breaking through.
Azzi just grinned, reached over to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear, then kissed her temple.
“Still worth it?”
Paige looked at her, all ruined affection.
“Always.”
***********
They found a booth tucked into the back—half-shadowed, half-claimed already by other WNBA players and their girls. The energy had softened. Louder laughs, slower movement. Drinks sweating on the table.
Paige slid in first, Azzi right behind her. Closer than necessary.
The alcohol was catching up. So was everything else.
Paige could still feel the phantom buzz between her legs, muscles tight from being edged to hell and back. Her limbs were loose now, but her brain was shot—adrift in want and skin and the echo of Azzi’s mouth in her ear.
Azzi wasn’t doing any better.
She was pressed up against her side, thigh-to-thigh, the heat between them constant. They were holding hands—casual, almost—and Paige could feel Azzi’s thumb playing with her ring, spinning it gently, back and forth. Paige did the same with hers.
Who knew this kind of touching could be foreplay.
Apparently, it could.
The longer it went on—Azzi’s fingers brushing hers, Azzi’s mouth close when she laughed at something someone across the table said—the more Paige’s nerves lit up again.
Azzi’s restraint was thinning. Paige could see it.
She was looking at her too much. Touching her like she didn’t remember they were still in public.
Her girl in white. Paige, in that damn cream sweater, legs crossed, hair tucked behind one ear, cheeks a little flushed from the warmth of the room and maybe the wine.
Azzi was gone for her.
Paige felt it in every glance. Every press of fingers.
But Paige wasn’t any better. Because God, she was being such a simp.
Asking if Azzi needed anything. Water, another drink, a snack. Checking if her feet hurt. Letting her lean in and rest against her when she started to shift uncomfortably in her seat.
At one point, when the booth got too crowded and Azzi half-stood to find more space, Paige just reached for her, pulled her straight into her lap. No hesitation. Azzi went willingly, letting herself sink back against Paige’s chest. Her arms wrapped around her like it was nothing to show this sort of public display of affection now.
She rested her chin on Azzi’s shoulder, one hand drifting to her calf, thumb working slow, small circles into the muscle like she was trying to undo the tension herself. Her fingers mapped along the line of her shin, pausing at the curve of her ankle, grounding herself in the feel of Azzi’s skin under her palm. She didn’t even realize how much she was touching her until Azzi shifted slightly, like the pressure was doing something to her, too. Paige didn’t stop. She couldn’t. It was the only way to keep her hands busy—to keep from completely losing it.
It wasn’t sexual. Not outright. But they were both hanging on by a thread at this point.
************
They said their goodbyes, slipped out a side door, and into the quiet of the night.
The Uber pulled up fast and they climbed in—Azzi sliding in first, Paige right behind her—and as soon as the door shut, Paige leaned in. Real close. So close her lips brushed the shell of Azzi’s ear.
Her voice was low. Quiet. Just for her.
“So you know,” Paige whispered, “you’re paying for everything you did tonight.”
Azzi turned slightly, her mouth already curving into a smile.
“I’m serious,” Paige murmured. “You think edging me for hours was cute?”
She dragged her fingers lightly along Azzi’s thigh, not enough to be obvious—just enough to remind her.
“I’m gonna keep you on the edge so long you forget what it feels like to breathe. I’m not letting you come until you’re begging.”
Azzi swallowed hard.
“And I’m gonna do it slow. No shortcuts. You’re gonna feel everything. Every second. Just like I did.”
Azzi’s hand clenched gently around Paige’s knee, her other arm crossed tight over her stomach like that could hold her together. Paige smiled against her skin as Azzi tilted her head slightly, eyes still forward, cheeks flushed, just as the car took a left and the hotel came into view.
Then she leaned back just enough to whisper one last thing. “When I’m done with you, you won’t even remember your own name.”
Azzi’s exhale was soft. Shaky.
As soon as the Uber pulled up to their hotel, Paige was practically dragging Azzi up to the room. The keycard couldn’t give them the green light quick enough.
And Paige didn’t wait.
Her hands were already on Azzi’s hips, lifting—like instinct—and Azzi went willingly, legs wrapping around her, mouth catching hers mid-motion. The kiss was deep, slow, threaded with heat that had been sitting under Paige’s skin for hours.
Azzi’s back hit the wall with a soft thud. A picture frame above them knocked loose, tipped sideways, and fell with a flat, apologetic clatter.
They both laughed against each other’s mouths.
Didn’t stop kissing.
Paige pressed harder into her, tongue sweeping Azzi’s lower lip, hands gripping under the hem of her dress, palms full of her ass. Firm squeeze. Deep groan.
Azzi’s head tipped back as Paige’s lips moved lower. Down her throat, along her collarbone, mouth open and desperate.
Then she found her chest—still wrapped in that delicate black lace—and latched on, sucking a nipple through the fabric, tongue pressing hard before her teeth sank in just enough to drag a gasp out of Azzi. Her back arched on instinct, a raw, broken sound tearing from her throat.
Paige didn’t slow down. She carried her to the bed, tossed her onto it with a little force, and was on her belt within seconds.
Azzi grinned, breathless. “Damn, babe—”
But Paige was already standing.
Looking down at her. Dark eyes. Wild restraint.
“Take off the thong.”
Azzi blinked. “What?”
“Now.”
Azzi did. Peeled it down slow, not teasing—just trying to catch up.
Paige crossed the room without a word, went straight to Azzi’s purse, and pulled out the vibrator—cool metal glinting in her hand like a threat. She brought it back, stood at the edge of the bed, and held it out to her. Azzi stared, wide-eyed, breath catching, already knowing exactly what was coming.
“You’re gonna edge yourself,” Paige said softly. “Like you did to me.”
Azzi opened her mouth. Closed it.
She wanted to argue. Maybe even push back. But then she really looked at Paige. Her flushed cheeks. Her eyes—wild, heavy, begging and commanding all at once.
She gave a tiny nod.
“Okay,” she whispered. “You want a show?”
Paige dragged the armchair to the foot of the bed and sat, legs spread, hands gripping the sides like she needed the grounding. Azzi leaned back against the pillows, spread herself open, vibrator in hand, and started—slow, intentional. The sound was barely there, swallowed by breath and tension and the slick, wet rhythm of her fingers. Paige watched, locked in—eyes fixed on where Azzi touched herself, mouth parted, chest barely rising, like watching her was the only thing keeping her alive.
“You’re fucking gorgeous,” Paige said quietly.
Azzi whimpered.
“You’re so fucking pretty when you come undone for me.”
Paige leaned forward, elbows on her knees, voice low. “You wanna cum, don’t you?”
Azzi nodded, shaky.
“But you’re not gonna.”
A full-body tremor ran through her.
“Not until I say.”
Azzi pushed herself closer, hips twitching, thighs flexing, toes curling tight against the sheets as the pressure built. Her breath caught, a broken sound stuttering from her mouth—and that’s when Paige stood, crossed the room in three sure strides, grabbed the vibrator out of her hand, and threw it. It smacked the far wall hard enough to knock the batteries out.
Azzi gasped, stunned and already shaking.
Then Paige’s mouth was on her—but she didn’t go straight for it. She could’ve, God, she wanted to, but that wasn’t what this was. This wasn’t about the quick rush, the frantic finish. This was about control. About holding Azzi in that aching place just long enough to break her down. About giving back everything she’d been put through. And then some.
Paige dragged her hands slowly up Azzi’s thighs, watching the way the muscles jumped beneath her touch. Her lips hovered low. Close. Breathing her in. She could smell her—sharp and sweet, drenched, and Paige swore she could taste it in the air.
She parted her with her thumbs, gentle but firm.
Made Azzi stay open.
Then, finally, her mouth.
Tongue deep—slow at first, impossibly slow. She eased in like she was getting reacquainted, like she hadn’t had her on her tongue all weekend long.
Azzi gasped, hips twitching, but Paige pinned her in place.
She knew what she was doing.
Each flick, each press, each drag of her tongue was deliberate. Measured.
Just enough to spark.
Never enough to finish.
Azzi’s head tipped back. Her fists clenched the sheets. “Fuck—”
Paige didn’t speak. Just kept working her.
Hands gripping her thighs, mouth relentless.
She circled her clit. Flattened her tongue. Pulled back.
Pressed in again—deeper, wetter, slower.
Azzi started to shake. Her legs tightened around Paige’s shoulders.
Paige felt her building—knew exactly what her body did when she got close—and that’s when she stopped.
Just lifted her mouth.
Blew cool air across soaked skin.
Azzi sobbed.
“No, no, no, don’t stop—”
Paige kissed the inside of her thigh. “Not yet.”
And she started over.
Slower this time. Teasing. Lapping lazy strokes, avoiding the one spot Azzi needed. One hand spread her open again, the other gripping her knee to keep her still.
It happened again.
And again.
Paige edged her five times—maybe six. She lost count. Azzi’s thighs were trembling violently now. Her stomach convulsed with every retreat. Her chest heaved, flushed and desperate.
Her voice was gone. Nothing left but broken, wrecked whimpers.
And then she went back in—this time with two fingers, slow and deliberate, sliding in deep. Azzi arched off the bed, wild and silent, mouth open in a scream that never fully landed. Paige latched onto her clit, tongue firm and unrelenting, sucking just enough to tilt her right to the edge—and then stopped. Fingers still buried inside. Mouth gone. Leaving Azzi suspended in the burn of almost.
Azzi screamed.
“Paige—”
Paige leaned up, kissed her stomach, breath shaking. Her chin was soaked. Her sweater was damp where it had brushed skin. She was wrecked herself, but she wasn’t done.
“You feel that?” Paige murmured, fingers dragging slow, curling deep. “How fucking wet you are baby? How close I’ve got you? That’s mine—you don’t come till I say.”
Azzi nodded helplessly.
“This pussy’s mine,” Paige muttered, voice low and wrecked, fingers still buried deep. “You’re soaked for me. You know that, right? I did this to you.”
She kissed her way down again.
No warning.
Mouth and fingers in tandem now. Unrelenting. She curled inside and sucked at the same time—just right. Over and over. A ruthless rhythm. Every nerve exposed.
Azzi came apart.
Not in one clean wave—but in gasping, stuttering shocks. Her body convulsed. Her legs locked. Her hand shot out, grabbing Paige’s hair—not pulling, just holding on.
Her voice cracked. Paige could barely hear it:
“Yours. I’m—yours—”
That’s when Paige finally let go.
She worked her through every pulse, every shudder, mouth wet, unbothered, consumed by it. Azzi’s slick coated her lips, her cheeks, her fingers—everywhere—and Paige didn’t care. Didn’t stop until Azzi was twitching under her, begging through broken gasps for mercy.
Only then did she pull back.
Her face was flushed. Wrecked. Proud.
She crawled up Azzi’s body, hands braced on either side of her head, and kissed her like it was a promise.
Azzi tasted herself on Paige’s mouth.
She grabbed the dress at Azzi’s hips and pulled. The thin fabric gave way in two rips—clean, unforgiving. The sound it made wasn’t subtle. A hard, clean rip, right down the center seam. Then another. Paige didn’t stop until the whole thing split beneath her hands, sliding off Azzi’s body like water.
“Never wearing that dress again,” Paige breathed.
Azzi gasped—half shocked, half turned on—and let out a breathless laugh. “That was expensive, babe—what the hell.”
“You’re not wearing that shit out again,” Paige said, eyes dark, mouth still slick with her.
Azzi raised an eyebrow. “Little jealous?”
Paige didn’t blink.
“Yeah,” she said, voice low and rough. “That dress had everyone looking.”
She leaned in, mouth brushing Azzi’s ear, breath still ragged.
“But I’m the one who gets to have you.”
Paige leaned in, kissed her slow and deep, then stood—already turning toward her bag in the corner, intent written all over her. Azzi watched her go, stretched out like a cat in the wreckage of the bed, one eyebrow raised.
She knew exactly what Paige was going for.
“Mm,” Azzi hummed, voice soft but loaded. “Baby, wait.”
Paige glanced back, smirking, but also a little confused.
Azzi sat up slowly, letting the sheet fall from her chest. “Got something new to try.”
Paige glanced over, brows raised. “Is that right?”
Azzi nodded toward her duffel on the chair. “Go to my bag.”
Paige dragged herself off the bed with a low groan, already half-smiling. “You really packed multiple toys for All-Star weekend?”
“Obviously.”
She laughed, shaking her head as she unzipped the side pouch. “You’re a dirty fucking girl.”
But her smirk vanished the second she saw what Azzi meant. It wasn’t just a new strap—it was a double. Sleek pink silicone, one end curved to fit snugly inside, the other slightly longer, straight, ready. Paige stared at it, then back at Azzi.
“Oh shit, babe.”
Azzi gave her that smug little shrug. “Told you I came prepared.”
Paige held it in her hand, weighing it, imagining what it was about to feel like—what it was about to do to her. Her throat went dry.
“You’re a menace,” she muttered.
Azzi crooked a finger, calling her back. “Come here.”
Paige stayed at the foot of the bed and passed it to her instead—still a little stunned. Azzi took it, smooth and deliberate, then got on her knees, crawling to the edge, ass high in the air. Paige’s breath hitched.
She was going to take her just like that later. Exactly like that.
But the thought shattered when she felt the pressure—Azzi guiding the shorter, internal end up into her, slow and steady. Paige gasped, the stretch catching her by surprise. And then came the pressure—direct, perfect—as the hilt pressed flush against her clit.
“Fuck—” she hissed.
And then Azzi moved forward.
Took the other end into her mouth.
Paige almost collapsed.
The suction, the tension, the subtle pull as Azzi bobbed her head—it was unreal. Like getting head and being fucked at the same time. Paige could feel every motion, her clit throbbing against the base with each slow pull.
Her hips jerked forward, involuntary.
“Jesus, Azzi—what the fuck—”
Azzi didn’t stop. Just kept going, slow and relentless. Letting Paige ride the toy without even moving her hands.
Paige could barely breathe.
It felt too good. Too much.
Like the toy wasn’t between them—it was part of her. Azzi’s mouth was pulling at her clit through the toy like it was wired to her nervous system.
She tipped forward, one hand braced on Azzi’s shoulder. “You—fuck—you found this? Where?”
Azzi didn’t answer—just moaned around the toy, tongue dragging slow and obscene.
Paige’s hips jerked.
“God—fuck—keep going, baby. Just like that.”
Azzi hummed around the shaft again, a little louder this time and the vibration made Paige see stars.
She slapped at her shoulder, panting. “Stop. Stop, babe. You’re—fuck—you’re driving me crazy.”
Azzi pulled off slowly, letting her lips drag along the toy with a slick, wet slide—spit clinging in a thin string as she released it, glossy and obscene, stretched from her mouth to the shaft before it finally snapped and slid down Paige’s thigh.
Paige was breathing like she’d just run suicides. She looked down at her, hair messy, lips wet, toy glistening between them.
“Where the hell did you get this?” she demanded again, voice shaking.
Azzi just grinned, wicked and satisfied. “Told you. I came prepared.” Then she started to shift, ready to flop onto her back, but Paige caught her by the hips.
“Nuh uh,” she breathed, voice thick and gravel-edged. “Turn around.”
Azzi froze for a beat—then exhaled, low and knowing. “Oh.”
She turned, slow, graceful even now, knees sinking into the bed, elbows bracing as she arched her back. That curve in her spine was deadly, and Paige took a second just to look.
Then she lined up behind her.
Slid in slow.
Azzi let out the kind of sound that punched straight through Paige’s core—guttural, honest, wrecked.
The thrusts started steady, deliberate—Paige sinking in slow, savoring the stretch, the obscene wet glide of the toy between them. Skin slapping soft at first, then louder, sharper, until the room was filled with it. Azzi was already soaked, slick running down her thighs, and every time Paige bottomed out, she could hear it—filthy, sticky, perfect.
But it wasn’t just the sound, or the pressure—it was the feel of it.
The double made everything different. Intimate. More intense. The stretch was deeper, the connection more visceral. With every thrust into Azzi, the toy pressed harder against Paige’s clit, inside her, like they were wired to the same fuse, like every motion sparked in both of them.
It blurred the line between who was fucking and who was being fucked.
Azzi pushed back into her with every movement, ass bouncing, spine arched, giving it all up like she needed it. Paige was wrecked—fucking her like she meant to leave a mark, chasing that drag of heat that built with every grind of the toy against her own body.
She could feel herself dripping, thighs soaked, clit crushed in a way that made her legs weak. The toy didn’t just rub—it dug, every thrust dragging more friction across the exact spot that made her eyes roll back.
They were moaning loud now—raw, wrecked, no shame. Paige tightened her grip on Azzi’s hips, dragged her back rougher, harder, like she was trying to drive the toy through both of them.
And God, it felt like she was.
“Fucking—God,” Paige groaned, jaw clenched.
She was close. They were close. She could feel it in the rhythm of Azzi’s body, the way she was starting to shake.
So Paige pulled out.
Azzi whined, head dropping between her arms—but Paige wasn’t done.
“Turn over,” she panted, already crawling on top. “Wanna see you.”
Azzi flipped onto her back, hair a mess across the pillows, pupils blown wide.
Paige slid back in—deep. Their hips met, flush and hot, sweat slicking their skin. She braced herself above Azzi, foreheads pressed together, breathing each other in, moving in tandem like nothing else existed.
And then it hit—everything all at once. Paige couldn’t hold it in anymore.
The love. The ache. The need.
“Doesn’t matter how long we’ve been together,” she whispered, voice cracking. “Can’t ever get enough of you, baby.”
Azzi whimpered, too far gone to speak.
“You been it for as long as I can remember,” Paige kept going, hips stuttering. “Can’t wait to marry you, Az. I fucking love you.”
“Can’t wait to have kids… a family… fuck—can’t believe you’re mine—”
She didn’t even realize she was crying until Azzi cupped the side of her face.
“Baby,” Azzi choked out, “I’m the lucky one—you’re fucking perfect. You’re perfect for me.”
Their mouths met in a kiss that was more gasp than coordination, more love than precision. And when they came, it was together—bodies locked, shaking, everything spilling over in a heat that had nowhere else to go.
And then collapsed on top of her, breath still broken, body trembling, skin hot and tacky with sweat. She didn’t even have the strength to pull out yet. The double still linked them—one end buried deep inside Azzi, the other nestled snug inside Paige, every nerve ending lit up and strung out.
Azzi's arms wrapped loosely around her back, legs tangled beneath her, both of them too fucked out to speak.
For a while, they just breathed.
And then Azzi shifted.
Just a little.
Paige groaned—loud and helpless—the slightest movement dragging the toy inside her, sparking overstimulation that made her entire body twitch.
“Nope,” she croaked, voice shredded. “Can’t. Not yet.”
Azzi laughed, soft and smug. “Sorry, baby.”
Paige kissed her temple, then eased out, slow and careful. Both of them winced. Her legs were shaking as she stood up, and she didn’t bother hiding it.
“Let’s take a bath,” she muttered, already heading to the massive hotel tub.
Azzi stretched lazily on the bed, then finally followed, voice sweet and tired. “Sounds great, baby.”
Ten minutes later, they were curled up together in the water, limbs tangled, heads resting against each other’s shoulders. Paige poured warm water down Azzi’s back. Azzi ran her fingers through Paige’s hair. They washed each other like it mattered, like they meant it, every touch unhurried.
They talked, laughed, traced bruises, kissed lazily—doing everything they could to ignore what tomorrow would feel like. Being apart again.
The bath had long started to cool, but neither of them moved. Azzi shifted, water lapping softly at their skin, and nestled closer, her voice barely above a whisper. “Hey.”
Paige turned her head, brushed her lips against Azzi’s hair. “Yeah?”
Azzi hesitated, then let it out, quiet and sure. “I’m so proud of you.”
Paige looked at her, eyes soft, heart full. “I’m proud of you, babe. More than I could ever say.”
She reached for her gently, fingers trailing along her jaw before pulling her in for a kiss—slow, tender, the kind that said home.
When they parted, Paige stayed close, foreheads touching. “Always,” she murmured. “In every lifetime, it’s you.”
౨ৎ beneath her tongue, there is a poem, and i find it every time.
knight!paige x princess!azzi. men & minors dni.
synopsis: in the gilded halls of the house of fudd, knight paige bueckers is assigned to guard princess azzi—a woman whose intellect cuts deeper than any blade and whose beauty feels like both salvation and damnation. what begins as duty transforms into something far more intimate than either anticipated.
cw: explicit sexual content (fingering, semi-public), power dynamics, knight/princess dynamic, class differences, dom!paige, sub!azzi, possessiveness, hunting/chase kink, mild degradation, praise kink, emotional vulnerability as intimacy, duty vs. desire, implied forbidden relationship bc this is not even close to what the king and queen hired paige for, devotion as obsession, attempted assassination, violence, the inherent eroticism of a woman with a sword, choosing love over duty/marriage, we are playing fast and loose with historical accuracy.
notes: this was supposed to be only 6k. I'm not completely happy with this, but i hope you still enjoy. please let me know what you think. i love you.
when paige first met her, she was swaddled up to the cheek and down to the bone. she stood rigid in her thick furs, the pelts a brown so dark it almost looked as if the night itself had come to settle around her. they were spotted, possibly an exotic leopard or lynx, and a matching pill-box hat sat upon the thick swell of her curls. still, there was something sweet about her as she looked out across the drawbridge to where paige gleamed in her armor.
perhaps it was her parted mouth, open like two rose petals teetering precariously against one another, neither strong enough to stand alone. or maybe it was her teeth, the two peeking out just slightly like a rabbit's, white and square and sitting neatly behind the vermilion of her lips.
when the captain of the guard had briefed her, he'd called her princess azzi of the house of fudd with the sort of reverence reserved for delicate things. looking at her now, paige thought the man might have been blind.
it wouldn’t surprise her. most men were incapable of seeing beyond what they were given at face value.
she stood still, the winter breeze blowing brashly against her skin until the light brown was tinged a fervent pink that bordered on red. her arms were crossed, her body unyielding. she did not want to be guarded, but paige had yet to meet a charge of hers that did.
besides, why would a princess want to forfeit any form of her sovereignty?
paige was unsure of how they would begin.
on her first day, she woke right as dawn began to brush against the night-bruised sky. it was always heavy, her sleep, and she sat on the edge of her bed for several moments, blinking herself into the real world. her head swung down, blonde hair lush and falling around her like wheat sewn into a doll's head.
with a sigh, paige rose to her feet and reached behind herself. she gathered the thick body of her hair into a great, golden bulk and then secured it in a loose bun that sat sweetly at the base of her neck. her body ached, her bones still unnerved from her trek to the fudd lands.
after a brief sink into the wooden bath just to the side of her bedroom, she dressed in her leather and mail, and made her way through the castle's winding corridors, her boots echoing softly against the stone. the fudd castle was grander than any paige had served in before. tapestries lined the walls, depicting hunting scenes and court life, animals slain in feverish color, and human faces rendered so realistically that it made paige almost feel ashamed to be looking upon them.
even the servants' quarters boasted carved woodwork that would be considered luxury elsewhere. ducks with vivid beaks, elk and deer with antlers so painfully sculpted that they seemed to strain out of the wall with a silent wish for life, and the ripe buds of flowers on the cusp of blooming into their true state.
it took a moment before paige realized she was standing still, her head craned upward to trace the religious murals on the ceiling as if she were a child. embarrassment whispered across her cheeks in a red haze, and she roused herself back into her journey to her charge’s chambers.
the hall seemed an endless anabasis, but eventually she arrived at azzi’s door. the doorknob, she noticed, was inlaid with gold and crystal. she paused outside, raising her hand to knock, when she heard movement within. the heavy oak door, adorned with the princess’s personalized fudd family crest—two swans on the outskirts of an elegant ‘a’ and ‘f’, the calligraphy limbs of the letters braided together in pale blue and silver—stood slightly ajar.
“your highness?” paige called softly, pushing the door open just enough to peer inside.
azzi's chambers were a study in excess and beauty.
the walls were paneled in cream and gold, adorned with delicate painted medallions depicting cherubs and archangels engaged in various pastoral scenes. ornate furniture filled the space: chairs upholstered in sage-colored silk, a writing desk inlaid with mother-of-pearl, and dominating it all, a bed that looked fit for an empress.
the headboard rose nearly to the ceiling, carved with elaborate scrollwork and draped with a rich fabric canopy dyed deep emerald, teal, and gold. beyond it was a mural of a forest, the trees grey and skeletal and rising in spindly lines toward the ceiling as if seeking light. paige thought it revealed more of azzi than anything else in the chamber.
atop it all, sunlight streamed through floor-length windows, casting everything in a warm, honeyed glow. it stopped just short of making the room feel sickly or stuck in a memory.
despite the sheer opulence, it wasn’t the room that gave paige pause. it was azzi herself.
the princess sat at her vanity, and her hair—god, her hair—fell in dark, copious ringlets down her back, nearly reaching her waist. it moved like water, without reason or restraint, as she tilted her head and ran a thick, silver brush through the length of it with practiced strokes.
she wore only a thin chemise, the morning light making the white fabric seem translucent against her skin. parts of her almost seemed completely bare, a trick of the light that paige made a conscious choice to ignore to the best of her ability.
paige had guarded noblewomen before, had seen them in various states of undress and vulnerability. but something about this moment, the intimacy of it. the way azzi's hair caught the light, the soft concentration on her face, made her feel like an intruder.
“princess,” she said, her voice rougher than intended.
azzi turned, and when she did, that cascade of hair shifted and settled around her shoulders like a dark cloak. her eyes met paige's in the mirror's reflection, cavernous and the color of flame-kissed wood, and there was something almost knowing in her gaze.
“azzi,” she corrected, and paige blinked.
the other woman turned then, her chin tucked coyly on the ridge of her shoulder, and gave paige a pale smile.
“we’re to be together for quite some time. i’d like it if you’d call me by name.”
“i—yes, your—” azzi cast her a look. again, paige’s mouth twitched. “as you wish, azzi.”
azzi turned back to her vanity, drawing her hairbrush through the remaining ringlets until they were more waves than anything else. paige wished she wouldn’t. her hands itched, as if urging her to take hold of the brush and finish the job, but she only clutched them around the hilt of her sword instead.
“so,” azzi said, breaking the silence. she rose, sidestepping the vanity chair and approaching the short chaise at the foot of her bed. “what is to be your jurisdiction?”
“what?” paige asked, and almost at once she felt stupid for saying it.
she watched as azzi wrapped herself in a thick, dove-grey, woolen robe. her eyes caught upon the way azzi lifted the mass of her hair from its collar, the descent of it almost hypnotic. azzi sat, tucking a foot underneath herself as she reached to the side where a plate swollen with pastries rested on a small wooden table. she ignored paige for a moment, seemingly looking for something, before letting out an endearing “ahah!” and conjuring two plates and a small knife out of thin air.
paige truly needed to begin paying attention. this was not the first time she had taken watch over a beautiful woman, but azzi appeared more beautiful than most in a multitude of ways. her beauty was so—so visceral that it stung paige like bees, and her only thought was to unhinge her jaw so that she might swallow and become its hive.
the breakfast spread was elaborate as expected: manchet bread, made fresh from sifted wheat flour and still warm from the ovens, with a golden crust that crackled when broken. sweet rolls studded with candied fruits and spices, their scent heady with cinnamon and nutmeg. a slew of delicate wafers and thin biscuits meant to dissolve right on the tongue were tucked alongside cold-roasted capons carved into neat slices, their skin still glistening with fat and herbs.
there was thick cream for pouring and honey languishing in a carved wooden pot, amber and fragrant. next to them, preserves made from fresh fruit: strawberry, apricot, and quince. so jewel-bright in their small silver dishes.
paige prayed her stomach wouldn’t rumble, her blue eyes alighting on the small glasses of ale and spiced wine warmed with honey and cinnamon. she watched, curious, as azzi bypassed it all for the fresh milk just behind them.
“what i meant before was, what is the exact detail of your assignment to me? are we to only be together when i take a walk and attend to my social responsibilities? will you be there when i bathe?" azzi asked.
paige's mouth quirked upward before she could stop it.
“no, my lady,” she answered, noting the way azzi shivered at the rasp of her voice. her next words fell unbidden from her mouth. “unless you are at great risk of drowning.”
the princess paused, and paige resisted the urge to flee in horror at her lack of respect. then azzi’s face collapsed into a bright smile, before she tipped her head back and laughed.
“i can assure you that i swim rather well,” she shot back, and paige fully smiled then.
“come,” azzi gestured. “eat with me. take what you’d like, and then i’ll ring the servants to take the rest of it to my family.”
paige shuffled closer, sitting gingerly in a chair on the opposing side of the table. “do you always take your first meal alone?”
azzi looked up from where she was lavishing the surface of a biscuit with blackberry preserves. her eyes were luminous this close, a solar system of their own. she tucked her lower lip underneath her top teeth before letting it go.
she shrugged and replied, “i used to. now, i’ll only take them with you.”
it was two weeks of this before azzi made her next move.
paige arrived at her door, knocking gently before pushing her way in. azzi looked up from where she was perched on the floor, her skirts pooled around her. upon seeing paige dressed more casually, still with her sword to her hip, she smiled. she rose, brushing her palms along the waist of her daydress.
azzi was dressed in deep indigo silk that made her skin look radiant. the gown was fitted through the bodice with a square neckline that framed her collarbones, the sleeves long and elegant. her dark hair was swept up and back, revealing the graceful line of her neck and the delicate shell of her ears. a few tendrils had been left to curl against her temples, softening the severity of the style.
“good morning, you. we'll have a walk this morning,” she announced, as if it had always been their custom. “after we eat.”
paige, who had been reaching for a delicate cut of white bread, paused. “walk where, my lady?”
“azzi,” came the gentle correction, followed by a smile that made paige's chest tighten. “and wherever we please. the gardens, the grounds. i find that breakfast sits better after movement.”
there was something in her tone that brooked no argument, though paige sensed this was less about digestion and more about establishing their own routine, separate from the rigid structure of court life.
an hour later, they made their way through the castle's corridors and out into the crisp morning air. azzi had tucked a leather-bound volume beneath her arm, and paige found herself curious about what the princess chose to read.
“you carry a book everywhere?” paige asked as they descended the stone steps leading to the gardens.
“nearly everywhere,” azzi replied, her fingers unconsciously protective over the volume. “i find most company rather predictable. books, at least, surprise me.”
they walked past carefully maintained flower beds bursting with a kaleidoscope of greenery, and topiary shaped into elegant spirals and arches. if paige squinted, she was almost positive one was meant to look like a bird. the morning light caught the dewdrops still clinging to the rose bushes, reminding paige of the thin sugar-dusted petals atop their vanilla cakes this morning. somewhere nearby, a fountain trickled steadily.
but paige found herself more interested in the way azzi moved, the way her dress swayed with her steps, and how she occasionally glanced at paige as if measuring her reactions. she seemed to be waiting for paige to give in to something, and so paige did.
“what are you reading?” she asked, finally breaking their brief silence.
azzi's step slowed, and she pulled the book from beneath her arm. the leather binding was worn smooth from handling, and paige could make out gilt lettering on the spine.
“niccolò machiavelli,” azzi said, watching paige's face carefully. “you know of him? read the prince?”
paige's blonde brows rose despite herself. “i—yes. during my training.”
she didn't mention that most knights weren't expected to read such works, that she'd sought it out herself during long winter evenings or even longer campaigns.
“and?” azzi's voice carried genuine curiosity, a gentle prodding differing from the usual testing tone paige expected from nobility.
“i found it…illuminating,” paige said carefully. “though i'm not certain i agreed with all of his conclusions.”
they had reached a fork in the path, and azzi chose the route that led away from the formal gardens toward a more natural landscape of ancient oaks and meadows almost suffocated with pastel wildflowers. paige found herself endeared just slightly toward her charge, her throat tickling with the suppression of a laugh at the way azzi simply decided, and she, herself, simply followed.
“which conclusions?” azzi pressed, and paige realized this was no idle conversation.
“his assertion that it's better to be feared than loved, for one.” paige adjusted her stride to match azzi's unhurried pace. “i think he wrote for princes who rule through force alone. but true loyalty is earned through respect, not fear.”
azzi paused. her smile was slow, pleased. “mmm, i’m inclined to agree. fear is the easier option. respect is far more difficult to inspire on a large scale.”
paige hummed in agreement, and azzi resumed walking.
“most would say a princess has no business reading about the nature of power.”
“most would be wrong,” paige replied without thinking, then immediately wondered if she'd overstepped.
but again, azzi only laughed at her honest opinion, a sound like bells in the morning air. “you continue to surprise me, paige. i hope you always do.”
paige was silent for a moment, scrambling for an appropriate response before giving up altogether. “i cannot promise that i will, but i can promise to give you my best attempts.”
azzi looked up at her, forcing paige to acknowledge the few inches difference in their heights. “i wouldn’t ask for anything else.”
paige's ears grew red.
they walked in comfortable silence for a while, the path winding between stands of birch and elm. eventually, they emerged into a clearing where a small lake stretched before them, its surface mirror-smooth and reflecting the pale sky. time felt slower, as if they had slipped into a crack of the world meant only for them.
“this is where i come to think,” azzi said, settling herself on a fallen log near the water's edge. she arranged her skirts carefully, the indigo fabric pooling around her like spilled ink. “i told you i was a good swimmer.”
paige remained standing for a moment, uncertain, until azzi patted the space beside her. “sit. please. we're quite alone here.”
paige settled beside her, acutely aware of how close they were. the log wasn't particularly wide, and azzi's shoulder brushed against hers as she opened the book.
“machiavelli speaks of power as if it exists in a vacuum,” azzi said, her fingers tracing the text. “as if the ruler's relationship to their subjects is the only dynamic that matters. but what of those who possess influence without authority? those who must navigate power structures that they cannot openly challenge?”
the question hung in the air between them, and paige understood they were no longer discussing political theory in the abstract.
“someone in such a position would need to be strategic,” paige said slowly. “to understand the motivations of those around them. to build alliances carefully.”
“yes.” azzi's voice was soft, almost wondering. “and they would need advisors they could trust completely. people who see them as more than just their title or their usefulness.”
their shoulders were pressed together now, and paige could smell azzi, the whole of her. some of it she recognized: gardenia, lilac, vanilla, plum. some eluded her, and she just attributed it to azzi’s natural, inescapable magnetism. when azzi turned to look at her, their faces were close enough that paige could count the gold flecks along her irises. she tried not to betray herself, but the way that azzi’s pupils gently dilated made her stomach fall, and in between her legs grew warm like it had been kissed with flame.
“i think,” paige said, her voice more strained than she intended, “that such a person would be fortunate to have found someone who sees their true worth.”
something shifted in azzi's expression, a softening around her eyes. she tilted her head. paige could’ve sworn she moved closer.
“and i think,” azzi replied, “that tomorrow morning, we should walk to the eastern gardens. i hear the lavender is particularly beautiful this time of year.”
it was a promise, paige realized. of more mornings, more conversations, more moments like this one where the careful distance between princess and guard dissolved into something far more intimate.
“as you wish,” paige said, and meant it in ways that had nothing to do with duty.
azzi settled backward, her mouth twisting into something triumphant.
“just a minute more,” she said, closing her eyes and lifting her face to the watery shine of the sun, “and then we can return to the castle.”
“of course, my lady.”
“azzi.” the correction came swiftly, and paige smiled to herself.
“do you dislike the title?” paige asked, her tone deceptively light. “if you truly hate it, i will cease using it immediately.”
azzi opened her eyes and turned, studying the planes of paige’s face. again, her pupils dilated. “i…”
“yes?” paige said, her voice husking around the question.
“i do not—i do not dislike it,” azzi said, and paige nodded.
“i’m glad to hear of it, my lady.”
silence came between them, and neither one of them dispelled it again. paige closed her own eyes and thought how sweet it was to unbalance azzi, even if only for a moment.
for a while, paige thought this was all it would be.
breakfast and walks along the grounds, sometimes broken by attending court or dinners meant to honor political guests the kingdom hoped to rope into an alliance. maybe it was all she wished it would be.
but the world had a way of resetting things, reminding one of one's true purpose. paige’s reminder came in the form of an ear-shattering scream in the dead of night.
one that she knew only belonged to azzi.
at once, paige became a blur of movement, stumbling from slumber into the hall with her sword hanging loosely from her hand. her bare feet slapped against the cold stone as she ran, her nightgown billowing behind her like a ghost given form. the corridors that had seemed so grand in daylight now felt vast and menacing, shadows stretching long and strange in the flickering torchlight.
azzi’s scream echoed like a wolf’s call, her throat straining as she keened. paige could not tell if it was in pain or rage, but she prayed to god that azzi would keep screaming. for as long as she screamed, she was alive, and she was calling out to paige, who latched onto this proof of life like a dog to an animal’s scent.
panic began to claw at paige’s throat, tightening her breath and acting as a final sign that she had grown too attached to this blue-blooded woman. it felt as though paige could not see anything in front of her, her anxiety rising and rendering her nearly blind. azzi’s scream keened out again, a ragged bird’s song, and paige turned wretchedly, tumbling around a corner and almost falling to her knees.
it was as if something was keeping her out, keeping her back. still, she fought.
another sound reached her. a crash, the splintering of wood, then silence so complete it made her lungs seize. paige's grip tightened around her sword's hilt as she rounded the final corner, her shoulder slamming against the doorframe of azzi's chambers.
the door hung askew on its hinges, the beautiful carved swans now cracked and listing. inside, furniture was overturned: the delicate writing desk on its side, papers scattered like fallen leaves, and the sage-colored chair knocked backward. the sweet scent of spilled wine mixed with something metallic made paige's stomach lurch.
she turned wildly, hair whipping like a snare of light. she stepped on something, stumbling as the pain lanced through her, and when she glanced down, she saw and mixture of brambles and earth wet with something she hoped to be rain. she looked up, fear clenching her lungs in a vise grip, and then there.
there, in the center of it all, was azzi.
she stood over a still form dressed in rough clothing, a pearl-handled dagger glinting in between those beautiful, trembling fingers. paige took a moment to register the blade and realized azzi must’ve been sleeping with it underneath her pillow.
she had been prepared. how long had she known she wasn’t safe? why hadn’t she said anything?
her white nightgown was torn at the shoulder, dark stains trailing across the fabric like ink dropped in water. there was a perfect bloom of the deepest red across where her heart was hidden under miles of bone and muscle, and paige’s chest seized, a sound escaping her before she could suppress it.
azzi took no notice of her. her chest rose and fell in sharp, uneven breaths, and her eyes were wide and unseeing, focused on something far beyond the present moment. she swayed on her feet, her free hand pressed against the bedpost for support. blood sprayed across her cheek from where she had slashed at her assailant and caught his throat, and more smeared along her palm where she'd gripped the blade too tightly in her desperation.
paige slowed her own breathing, recognizing the signs of shock setting upon the princess. when her voice felt steady enough, she released it from the tower of her throat, moving inch by inch until she could better see her lady’s face.
“azzi,” paige breathed, her voice barely above a whisper. the princess turned toward the sound, her movements jerky and unsteady, like a marionette with tangled strings.
when azzi saw her, truly saw her, something crumpled in her expression. her hand flew to her mouth, barely obscuring the sob that escaped it, and fresh blood from her palm streaked across her lips and chin from the grip. the dagger clattered to the floor as her knees buckled.
paige surged forward, dropping her sword to better move, guilt clawing at her chest like a living thing. she should have been here, should have heard the struggle sooner, should have prevented this entirely. but those thoughts scattered as azzi stumbled forward with her arms out like a child, her legs giving way.
“i've got you,” paige said, catching azzi before she could fall. she pressed her cheek to the top of azzi’s head, blue eyes surveying every crevice of the bedchamber. “i've got you. i’m right here. you're safe now.”
azzi's body shook against hers, violent tremors that had nothing to do with the cold. her breathing came in short, sharp gasps that bordered on hyperventilation. paige's eyes swept the room once more. the intruder's body lay motionless, no immediate threat, the windows secure.
they were alone. she looked back down to where azzi had stilled, her head lolling with the sudden vanishing of her adrenaline. paige adjusted her so that they were pressed closer together, rubbing a large hand down the ridges of her spine.
“good girl,” she murmured, tucking azzi into the pale of her neck. the princess kept silent, and paige didn’t push her. “you did well, azzi. so well.”
the tip of azzi’s nose was cold with her cooling sweat, and paige could smell the tepid bitterness of urine, most likely released in fear, but she was uncaring of the state of azzi’s body. she gathered her closer, shifting them so that they were further from the body and pressed against the legs of the chaise that stood tall against the end of the bed.
there was a minute of silence, an unnerving stretch of nothingness, and then paige heard a soft ‘scritch’ just to the right of her. slowly, she turned her head only to meet the gaze of a crudely masked man—his face partially obscured by a thick band of black. his eyes peeked out, gleaming green and mean.
they stared at each other: paige with azzi practically crawling inside of her, and him with his bloodlust practically licking at his teeth. only another minute passed before they both leaped into action.
it was like a brutal ballet, only there was no stage and a very real threat to both women’s lives. paige lurched upward, dragging azzi with her. the latter lifted her head blearily from where it had been slick against the blonde’s neck, and paige felt the moment she realized there was another assailant. azzi’s entire body went to stone, her limbs leaden as fear consumed her.
paige knew azzi would not be able to kill again.
with a great deal more strength than she intended, paige pushed azzi behind her onto the full body of her bed and rushed the assassin with the full brace of her body. they collided with brutal force, spinning off-kilter in a tangle of limbs and emotion.
paige slammed into azzi’s vanity, her nightgown too thin to defend her against the shards of glass that flowered from the looking glass’s destruction. she and azzi let out a high cry at the same time—paige of pain, azzi of paige’s name.
the assassin grinned, his teeth crooked and black, and paige grunted as he slid a tough hand around her neck. he began to squeeze, and her vision sparked, but she got a hand up high enough to gouge her nails into his eye. he let out a near-girlish yelp of agony and released her. she twisted away with dizzied breath, feet carrying her unsteadily to where her sword lay.
just as she got her hand around it, azzi called out a warning to her, her eyes blown out with fear. paige felt the body heat of the man just behind her, and she ducked into a low crouch, her hips swiveling so that she could somewhat face him.
he towered over her, his top lip dark with the blood that dripped from his mangled eye, and paige knew that he wanted more than ever to kill her.
she refused to die.
there was no more time to waste, so she pushed up on the balls of her feet and carried her sword arm with her. the blade flashed in the moonlight, the steel clean and beautiful as it arced up in a graceful half circle.
the edge met his neck, and she watched as it cut through. there was a horrible, wet gurgle, and then his throat yawned open as his head toppled clean from his shoulders. as the head fell, paige didn’t feel triumph. only the echo of azzi’s scream still caught in her chest, and the warm splash of blood across her feet.
she had killed before. she had never needed it like this.
for a moment, it spun, like a stocky, flesh-made coin before rolling off into a corner already bruised with drying blood. she heaved out a breath of relief, her body faltering as her wounds caught up with her. her throat burned, and she clutched it, eyes smarting as every bit of pain found a place to flood her.
behind her, azzi scrambled off the bed and to her side. her hand was firm as it encircled paige’s wrist, and she dragged her bodily to her wardrobe. hurriedly, the princess tucked both of them inside and lifted paige’s sword with a low grunt. she managed to slide the blade into the loops of the door's inner-facing handles, preventing those outside from easily getting it to open.
the wardrobe was stifling, the wood groaning under their weight. paige’s knees pressed into something sharp, a forgotten brooch, maybe, but she didn’t dare move. the iron tang of her recent kill clung to the roof of her mouth. paige sat on the floor, reaching a hand out to bring azzi between her thighs.
azzi was trembling against her, both of them pressed so close paige could feel her breath stutter over her collarbone. she pushed at her hips until azzi turned so that her back was to paige’s chest. it was slick with fear against her skin, but paige clutched azzi to her like a lifeline.
they stayed like that, blinking silently with their hands laced tightly together, until dawn broke and the main guard found them.
paige slept in the same room as her after that. the only reason she hadn't done so before was that azzi was determined not to have an invasion into every bit of her life.
azzi's bedchambers had been repaired in less than three days, but the same could not be said for the princess. paige had to coax her into a short walk, but azzi refused to go further than the garden. not even to her clearing from before.
she barely spoke anymore, her voice reduced to clipped responses and hollow pleasantries. at breakfast, she picked at her food with the mechanical precision of someone going through motions, her eyes distant and glassy. her fingers, once fastidiously kept, were chewed raw at the cuticles, one nail cracked to the quick. she didn’t seem to notice the blood welling there, only smeared it across her napkin with the same dazed indifference.
the woman who had debated machiavelli with passionate intelligence seemed to have retreated so far inside herself that paige wondered if she'd ever find her way back out.
it had been two weeks of this careful, muted existence when paige finally reached her breaking point.
“we're going for a walk,” she announced that morning, her tone leaving no room for argument.
azzi looked up from where she was methodically tearing a piece of bread into smaller and smaller fragments. even their breakfasts had grown bland.
she sighed, the sound long and tired. “you’re free to go, paige. i’m sorry, but i don't wish to—”
“i wasn't asking.” paige's voice was sharper than she intended, but she was tired of watching the woman she'd come to care for disappear piece by piece. “get up. get dressed. preferably, something you can move in.”
for a moment, azzi's eyes flashed with something like her old spirit. annoyance, perhaps even anger. but it died as quickly as it had risen, replaced by that terrible, empty compliance. paige watched as she slipped into an emerald dress, the fabric limp without the structure of her pannier beneath it. she cinched the corset tightly, her chest rising until paige had to force herself to look away lest the heat in her belly consume her.
they walked in silence through corridors paige now knew by heart, past the lavish tapestries that no longer seemed quite so magnificent. when they reached the gardens, azzi moved to take their usual path, but paige caught her wrist.
“no.”
she led them deeper into the grounds, past the manicured flora and topiary, toward a part of the grounds azzi had yet to show her. the more they walked, the more the hedge maze rose before them, its walls thick and a blackish-green and nearly twice paige's height. ancient yew trees had been shaped and trained into an intricate labyrinth that stretched out in geometric perfection.
“paige, i don't understand—”
“you're going to run,” paige said, turning to face her. azzi's eyes widened, the first real expression paige had seen from her in days. “and i'm going to hunt you.”
“i'm sorry?” the words came out breathless, shocked.
“you heard me. i won’t repeat myself.” paige stepped closer, and azzi instinctively stepped back. “i'm going to give you a head start, and then i'm coming after you. you're going to have to think, azzi. you're going to have to be clever and quick and remember who you are."
“i refuse. i don't want to.”
“i don't care what you want right now, my lady,” paige said, and the harshness in her own voice surprised her. “what you want is to disappear, and i won't let you. it’s pathetic. the woman i know wouldn't run from a challenge. she'd find a way to win.”
something flickered across azzi's face. it looked closest to hurt, but could’ve just as easily been the ghost of indignation. either way, it was the most alive she'd looked in weeks.
“this is absurd,” azzi whispered.
“quite.”
“you have lost your mind.”
“yes,” paige agreed. “now run.”
for a heartbeat, they stared at each other. paige casually took a step forward, letting her face harden with her determination. azzi’s face twitched.
“i said run, azzi.”
finally, azzi turned and fled into the maze, her skirts lifted in her hands as she disappeared around the first corner.
paige counted to thirty, then followed.
the maze was much older than she'd expected, the paths worn smooth by generations of feet. she could hear azzi ahead of her: the rustle of fabric, the soft sound of footsteps on earth, the sharp little gasp she gave as she almost fell. still, the hedges muffled everything, making it impossible to tell how far away she was or which direction she'd gone.
“i can hear you,” paige called softly, her voice carrying through the green walls. “you'll have to do better than that.”
she thought she heard azzi's breathing quicken, footsteps moving faster. good. fear would sharpen her mind, force her to think strategically instead of simply existing.
paige took the left path, moving with practiced quiet. she'd hunted men through forests darker and more treacherous than this. but this wasn't about catching prey; this was about making azzi remember she was more than what had happened to her. paige wouldn’t dare ask her to forget it, but she did have to find a way through it before it ate at her potential.
minutes passed. the maze was larger than it had appeared from the outside, with false paths and dead ends that would frustrate anyone trying to navigate it quickly. paige began to wonder if perhaps she'd underestimated the challenge when she heard it.
a small sound, almost like laughter.
she froze, listening intently. there it was again. not laughter exactly, but something breathless and almost delighted.
paige’s lips curved into a smile. there you are, she thought.
“come on, my lady,” she called out. “make it fun for me, will you?”
she turned down another path, following her instincts more than any particular sound. the hedges here were particularly thick, ancient growth that created deep shadows even in the afternoon light. she was scanning the path ahead when something solid and surprisingly fierce slammed into her from behind.
the impact sent them both tumbling to the ground, azzi's arms wrapped around paige's waist in a tackle that was equal parts desperate and determined. they rolled once before paige's training kicked in, and she used their momentum to flip them, pinning azzi beneath her.
for a moment, they were both breathing hard, staring at each other in shock. azzi's hair had come loose from its pins, spreading dark and wild across the earth. her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright with something paige hadn't seen in weeks: triumph, mischief, life.
“there you are,” paige breathed, and her voice came out a triumphant rasp. her hair fell all around her, shrouding them as it broke free of her bun.
something cracked in azzi's expression as they were shielded with the haze of paige’s tresses. her eyes filled with tears, but she was smiling for the first time since that horrid night.
“i went through the hedge,” she whispered, a wet laugh slipping through her teeth. “like a child. it wasn’t fair, but i thought—i thought you'd never expect—”
“i didn’t ask you to play fair. you thought right," paige said softly. “you were brilliant.”
they were close, so close that paige could count the lashes fanning azzi's doe eyes, could feel the warm puff of her breath. azzi's hands came to rest against paige's shoulders, and there was something electric in the space between them, something that had nothing to do with the hunt and everything to do with the way they were looking at each other.
“paige,” azzi said, and it sounded like a question.
the expulsion of her name came from somewhere deep in azzi’s chest, and the effort pushed azzi’s breasts high, almost to her throat. paige made a sound so low and animalistic—one that azzi answered with a near soundless parting of her mouth—as she lowered her head, her lips crushing against azzi’s as if to draw juice from them. azzi's hands fisted in the fabric of paige's tunic, pulling her closer, and paige fell further into her. she tasted salty, of sweat and strain.
time seemed to slow and quicken at once. paige kissed her harder, all thought fleeing from her mind. her hand found the hem of azzi's dress, fingers trailing along the soft skin of her outer thigh. higher she went, climbing until she could graze her nails against the tenderness of azzi’s inner thigh. azzi gasped against her mouth and arched beneath her. the sound broke something loose in paige's chest, a want so fierce it bordered on pain.
she felt azzi’s body twist, felt it pulse as they became hooked on the same rhythm. azzi broke their kiss, her lips inflamed with the force of paige’s affection. paige let her breathe, dipping down to press kiss after kiss against azzi’s neck. her mouth found its way to azzi’s chest, sucking a soft ripe mark atop the fullness of one.
she was just setting her teeth upon the other when she heard voices.
paige raised her head, senses returning to their sharpest state. the conversation was distant but growing closer. gardeners, perhaps, or other members of the court, taking their own afternoon walks.
the women pushed apart as if burned, both breathing heavily. paige rolled away, putting distance between them even as every instinct screamed at her to stay close, to shield azzi from the world and all its expectations.
“we should—” paige started, then stopped, because what should they do? pretend this hadn't happened? go back to careful distance and formal propriety?
azzi sat up slowly, her fingers moving to her lips as if she could still feel the kiss there. when she looked at paige, her eyes were clearer than they'd been in weeks. something dark pricked at the edge of her gaze, and she looked away before she spoke.
“we should go back,” azzi said finally, but she made no move to stand.
“yes,” paige agreed, but she didn't move either.
azzi clutched two fistfuls of her skirts tightly, and paige resigned herself to pretending they could go back to the way things were before. but then, azzi spoke again.
“my room,” she murmured.
“what?” paige said, turning her full attention from the group approaching the maze to the princess beside her.
“we should go back to my room,” azzi clarified. her tone was firm, her eyes even firmer.
paige’s mouth fell open, and she sat there, hair askew and mind blanking. azzi sighed and climbed to her feet.
“paige,” she admonished, extending a hand to help the blonde to her feet. “do keep up.”
they didn’t speak on the way back. azzi led, skirts muddied and breath ragged, and she urged paige to follow behind her from a distance like a soldier in retreat. she felt as much; glorious in azzi’s defeat of her, winded by victory.
they weaved through the castle until they were sequestered inside azzi’s chambers, the door shutting with a deep finality. it was as if everyone knew it would always end up here.
the moment it latched, azzi turned. her eyes were fever-bright, chin lifted with a hard edge as if she was readying herself to batter paige into submission. paige didn’t even have time to catch her breath before azzi was on her again, backing her further and further into the room until paige tripped against their beloved breakfast table and fell onto the chaise’s open body.
azzi left no room for anything other than what she desired, climbing onto paige’s lap with the momentum of someone who’d made her decision hours ago and was only now cashing in the ache.
they both rose in the same moment, tongue and teeth clicking awkwardly with their desperation. it did nothing to break through the spell. paige gripped azzi’s hips tightly, squeezing so hard that she wasn’t sure if the sound she next heard was azzi whimpering or the creak of her bones. her hands kept roving, kept finding new palmfuls of flesh to grip and tease. azzi’s fingers curled in the rough collar of paige’s tunic as she did so, dragging it open with impatience. her palms grazed the plane of paige’s chest like she was verifying solidity, like she needed to touch muscle to remind herself this was real.
she moaned into paige’s mouth as the knight’s hands pushed up the skirt of her dress, her calloused palms finding the shapely curve of her ass and using it to drag her against the rough fabric of her breeches. paige broke their kiss gently, trailing her mouth down until she was back to azzi’s tits, her teeth nipping more dark patches into the soft, golden skin before soothing them with the flat of her tongue. azzi hummed with pleasure, her head falling back to reveal the delicate column of her throat.
she began to roll her hips, using paige’s thigh as a means of friction against her clit. paige let her. how could she not? she had dreamt of being held like this, of holding azzi like this, of fucking someone like they were a fortress she wanted to lay siege to.
azzi dragged her head up by the chin, pulling her back into a dizzying kiss as her hips bucked faster. she broke the kiss only to press her forehead against paige’s.
“you don’t understand,” she whispered. “i’ve tried to stop wanting you. it’s practically made me ill.”
and paige, paige could’ve slid off the bench and dropped to her knees right then, her whole world trembling around that confession.
“tell me what you want,” she managed instead, voice hoarse.
azzi didn’t tell her.
she took paige’s hand instead, tough from years of battle, the pads of her fingers still scented faintly with crushed hedge, and guided it beneath her skirts. no ceremony. no flourish. just raw need and the wet heat between her thighs.
paige swore lowly, fingers easily slipping past azzi’s folds and into the hot clutch of her cunt. azzi's head fell back slightly as she pressed herself into paige’s palm, working her hips until she sat at the knuckles of the two fingers inside of her.
“mmm. yes, like that,” she breathed, and paige felt it echo down her spine. “don’t stop. don’t—”
paige wouldn’t. couldn’t. her other arm wrapped tight around azzi’s waist to keep her upright as she began to move her fingers, slow at first, then deeper as azzi rocked against her hand. it was obscene how easily she parted. how greedily she accepted.
“princess,” paige choked. “god, you—fuck.”
azzi shuddered at the term of address, fucking herself down harder.
“i need more,” she gasped, her nails digging crescents into paige’s shoulder. “deeper. more. just give it to me.”
something about the way she said it made paige slow. azzi blinked, dazed, and looked at her.
“azzi, did we lock the door? is it—someone could come in.”
azzi’s hair fell around her as she leaned forward, bracing her hands fully on paige’s broad shoulders. she laughed lightly as she began to ride paige’s fingers, stopping only to urge paige to tuck a third one into the sticky, tight press of her cunt.
“i don’t care. i want them to know that it's you inside of me. i want them to know i’m yours.”
paige didn’t think of anything else after that. she gave everything. fingers stroking into her princess with measured force, knuckles catching on slick velvet. her mouth found azzi’s throat, sucked and kissed and grazed her teeth just below the hinge of her jaw. azzi sobbed out her name, legs shaking.
“i’d give you anything,” paige murmured into her skin, voice wrecked. “my name, my sword, my soul, if you’d only fucking ask. i don’t know why you don’t. i know how smart you are, i know you’ve known how badly i’ve wanted to have you. how much i’ve wanted to make you cry.”
azzi’s mouth popped open, and paige wanted to laugh a bit at how easy she was when you got past everything. she felt azzi tighten around her and pressed a hand to her stomach.
“no,” she murmured. “not like this.”
she removed her hand from azzi, fingers sliding out with an obscene ‘schleck’, and it took every bit of strength she had left to ignore how azzi groaned as if she wounded her with the removal. instead, paige lifted azzi so that she was on her knees on that massive bed, dragging the heavy fabric of her dress up to the middle of her back so that her ass was bared.
with one hand, paige spread her legs apart, climbing up behind her so that she could drape the weight of her body over azzi’s back. her breasts hung free where azzi had ripped her shirt—paige had never been one for undergarments—and her nipples were so sensitive that their graze against the laces of azzi’s gown made her moan high from behind her teeth.
paige regained her focus, pressing down so that azzi arched before sliding three fingers back into her. azzi had run out of sound now, her hips twitching as paige brought her free hand under her stomach to rub at her swollen clit.
“work for it,” she muttered, voice smoky with her thin self-restraint. when azzi didn’t abide by the command, she pinched her clit and relished in the way azzi fell forward with the pain. “i gave you a command. heed it. fuck yourself, azzi. it’s the only way you’ll finish.”
azzi gave a strangled, little cry and began to fuck back against paige’s hand. she gave it her all, hips swiveling as she ground down to the root of the other woman’s fingers.
“good girl,” paige cooed. “there you go. take what’s yours.”
she could feel the way azzi was dripping down her wrist, her cunt as hungry as paige felt. there was a tight contraction as azzi’s orgasm approached, and paige let her forehead drop to azzi’s sweat-glazed shoulder.
“come on. please. please, my lady, please. give it to me. please. this is all i’m asking. this is—this is all i want.” azzi’s body gave a great heave, but paige held her up.
she nudged azzi’s legs open further, fucked deeper into her until she was sure she’d discovered some deeper part of her body that had never been touched before. the change in position made it so that azzi was practically squatting, her bottom lip now dragged between her teeth as she chased her high.
“azzi, please. i can feel you. i swear i can feel it. just let go. cum for me, azzi. finish for me, princess.”
azzi’s climax came like a storm breaking over both of them: hot, shaking, with a cry strangled against her bedsheets as she slumped into them. paige held her through it, fingers still deep, her heart a cathedral to the holy ruin she’d just witnessed.
when she finally collapsed atop azzi, panting and spent, they just lay there, anchoring one another. the knight and her charge. the sinner and her altar.
paige with her princess, her lady, her future queen.
she laughed, the sound half-cracked with disbelief. then, slow as ritual, she raised her fingers to her mouth and lapped up every syrupy drip of cum from them. her tongue buzzed with the sticky lash of azzi’s orgasm against it. it was still warm, still fresh and sweet from her body.
azzi was quiet for a long time. she watched paige eat of her. it wasn’t simply watching. it was a measuring of something she clearly had been considering, but might not have dared name before this moment.
“i think,” she declared, voice hoarse, “that i will never marry.”
“have you always been this decided?” paige asked, a smile tugging at her mouth despite herself.
her head listed to the side so that she could see the satisfied cut of azzi’s face.
“no,” azzi said. “i only knew when you walked into my room that first morning.”
paige’s breath caught. something old and fatal curled inside her.
“princess—” she started.
“azzi.” again, the familiar correction.
“azzi—” she began again.
“no one,” azzi cut her off, “could ever inspire in me the affection i feel for you. there is nothing more perfect than when my hips are a bowl for your head to rest.”
paige could think of nothing to say. then, “i’d rather drink from your hips if they are to be a bowl for me. i can lie in your lap.”
azzi giggled this time, pleased by paige’s crude joke, and it was then that paige knew she could never give her up. she would be cruel in that way, always keeping azzi to herself through any means she could think of.
and still laughing, azzi reached down, carded her fingers through paige’s hair, and gently cupped the back of her head. she held her there, against the softness of her stomach, against the flush-warm skin between her thighs. as if paige were not just wanted but necessary.
azzi shifted so that she could lie on her back, her hands coming to clasp over her stomach. their bodies were beginning to cool. azzi’s curls clung to her neck. paige’s shirt hung in tatters. but the air between them was still molten, almost war-touched.
“you’ll stay with me,” she said, low, fierce. not a question.
paige realized azzi wasn’t looking at her because she was scared of her answer. she reached up, turned azzi by the chin so that their gazes met.
౨ৎ i can’t undo all i have done unto myself; my appetite for love.
age gap!pazzi ft. former-rower!paige x communications major!azzi. men & minors dni.
wc: 8.5k
synopsis: azzi misses her ex-boyfriend's mother, but it's more than that.
cw: age gap (paige in her forties / azzi in her twenties ) relationship, (kind of) emotional affairs, complicated family dynamics, messy breakups, mutual pining, insane levels of yearning, men as collateral damage, emotional codependency, non-sexual intimacy, slight (?) power imbalance, no one is the villain but everyone's a little complicit, grief, touch-starved!azzi, also mommy issue azzi, there's definitely something a little wrong with all of them.
notes: this is a retry of a piece i abandoned around july of this year. i'm glad i found it, that i could feel it again. hope you enjoy. as always, let me know what you think x
azzi’s most defining relationship began and ended with the face of what she really wanted.
well, the beginning was its own beginning. the boyfriend—she kept him as a grey silhouette, easier to grieve— was beautiful: dark curls that milled over his head with neither direction nor rhythm, blue eyes that went grey in the light, sometimes darker when he was hovering over her, a pert mouth with a darker bottom lip, a golden smattering of freckles across the thin bridge of his nose—the softness of his belly.
he had been on the rowing team—like my mama, he’d crowed proudly—for their university, and azzi remembered when she’d seen him the first time, skating across the water like he had been born to it. perhaps that had been the first sign, a mirroring of their position in this partnership: azzi, with her oversized marquette sweatshirt, which had seen better days in the nineties, pale and swallowing the straight of her spine, dusting at the round tops of her hips, the fabric so bloodless in the early morning. the boyfriend, with his legs crossed strongly beneath him, sat in the middle of his shell, his shoulders shuddering strangely, like a volcanic island isolated, just spinning and stroking across the dark water.
he always spun it differently when he retold the story, that he had looked up and seen her with the sun behind her, coloring her skin into brown sugar on fire, her curls dark and haloing the heart-shape of her face. he loved to say that she’d smiled at him, cheeks flushed like two blushed fruits, her two front teeth peeking out just enough for him to call her ‘bunny’ all the time.
but azzi recalled it properly, more honestly. there had been no light, or at least barely any. he could’ve only seen her shadow, the curve of her body that had always been more athletic than anything. there was nothing more to her in that moment, and maybe he had been a little lonely, ‘cause that was enough, and he plucked her up, hoping she was an uncomplicated girl.
that was their actual beginning. but the place where azzi’s honest beginning, honest aching, began was when she met his mother.
he’d picked her up right as the season changed. it was familiar, the slow crawl of his black town car as it pulled up in front of the complex. she was living off-campus at this time, and as she glanced through the window and rolled her shoulders, the car reminded her that she was supposed to feel as lucky as his attention would allow.
the boyfriend was rich, had a mother with more weight to her name than an anchor on an ocean floor. azzi felt her throat tighten and focused on loosely pulling her hair up as she prepared to buzz him in. a textbook languished at the foot of her cream-colored suitcase—building imaginary worlds: the theory and history of subcreation, a “pivotal text” for her transmedia class—the earth spinning on the cover slit into squares by a red grid. it was more his aesthetic than hers, but so was the flat before she redecorated.
and so was the suitcase.
there was a sharp click of her throat as he came closer to her and up the stairs, and she opened the door before he could knock, too impatient to wait for the vibrations of the wood to worsen her building headache. he had smiled, so slowly and crookedly, dressed flawlessly in black except for a deep green blanket scarf she'd bought him last christmas.
it had been a hard season for her bank account, but it was her duty as The Girlfriend.
you're a little early, azzi had remarked, pulling back to let him in.
her coat had been laid pseudo-carefully on a kitchen stool. it was navy, almost electric, against the dark brown of the sitting piece. the flat smelled heavily of cinnamon and orange peels, autumn kissing gently at both their necks.
they hadn’t touched each other in a month and three days. the world had been almost as cold as she was at that time.
i always want to be when i come to get you. i always feel like i don't have enough time with you, like i'm catching up, he’d told her.
her eyes had gone all glossy, magnified by the brown of them, the sheer size of them. she turned away.
because you are, she’d thought, but didn’t say. still, the thought echoed silently across the high ceiling and slunk across the worn couch. she knew her face reflected it, lips pouting and bulging with the urge to argue before she chose another way.
and then they had gone, driven up the long, winding throat of the east coast to go to the house that his mother occupied in the off-season.
almost immediately, azzi had needed air. or water. something upon arrival. her stomach was squeezing so aggressively that she almost threw up over the console. he’d laughed, teased her about being nervous, ribbed her until he saw how pale she’d gone, and then tried to assure her that his mother was scarier in the articles than in real life.
she'd nodded, stumbling along the gravel drive, until she was somehow inside and drifting into the kitchen while he—she could barely hold his shape in her mind anymore—talked to someone about fantasy football in the other room. the lake beyond the window was going dark at its edges, all that water dying out, the glimmer only as lasting as the will of the sun.
azzi was beginning to return to herself, brushing her fingertips along the rim of a glass half-full of a liquid deliciously carbonated, when she came in.
here, right here, is where azzi would always feel it began. the memory sparked like a star in her heart, the flame high and blue and the hottest at the bottom where it burned away at the organ.
“you okay?”
paige was so tall, much taller than she'd expected, broader through the shoulders, and sporting the softest tan that nearly made azzi believe in the american dream. her hair had fallen around to her midback in a way that made her face more naked. it was slightly wavy—as if someone had braided and rebraided, braided and rebraided—voluminized by extensions so artfully sown-in that you wouldn’t have been able to tell lest she told you. it was bright, all that blonde, nearly cosmic, but azzi could see the whispers of dark roots when she glanced up at her crown.
she wore only low-slung, forest green sweats, the elasticated band sticking tightly to her skin like an insecure lover. paired with it was a cropped tank of the same color, shadowed by the oak brown-and-cream plaid flannel that was keeping her warm.
she looked like someone who'd lived inside her body for a long time, who knew what it could do.
“oh—i’m sorry, ms. bueckers. i’m—i just needed a second.”
paige watched her for a long moment, then moved to the sink, poured herself water. the sound of the glass being filled, the bestowment of purpose, was the only thing in the room for an entire three minutes.
then:
"why are you apologizing? and paige.”
azzi blinked, and paige smiled wryly.
“you can call me paige. i hate that ms. bueckers shit.”
“oh,” was all that azzi could give, and she pinched her inner thigh in irritation at the arrival of her shyness.
“but it’s nice to finally meet you, azzi.” she startled slightly at the sounding of her own name, eyes going wide like a deer before the shot, until she could feel an unnatural chill from the exposure. ( paige felt a thread begin to stitch a feeling into the wet of her gut. ) “so, what are you studying?"
the question surprised azzi. not what do you do or where are you from, but what are you studying? as if azzi was allowed to still try her hand at becoming something, like she had room to be anything less than perfect and established.
“communications,” azzi said, and waited for the usual vague nod, the conversation to drift away. “media communications, specifically.”
but paige leaned against the counter, actually looked at her. “mmm. ‘nd what does that mean? do you know what you want to do with it?”
no one ever asked her that. not her academic advisor, not her parents, certainly not him. azzi felt something shift in her chest, a little unlatching that threatened to topple her. she hated her supplication for attention in moments like these, this reassertion of her desire to be noticed, to be seen as interesting.
“to be completely honest, i’m not sure yet," she said quietly, and it felt cathartic to bleed that wound. "i think right now i’m just focused on following what i like, on understanding how people communicate. or how we often fail to. what it’s like we pass the words on, when we translate, what we take and what we lose.”
paige smiled then, and it changed her whole face. made her look younger than azzi knew she was.
"i like that. how we fail. always something to learn in the failing, sometimes more than the successes."
azzi nodded, mouth parting slightly as if to continue the conversation, to bolster their connection. but the boyfriend called from the other room. azzi's name fell from his mouth, landed with the demand of something she was supposed to answer to.
she glanced back at paige, who she found was already looking at her, and felt pinned there—a specimen spread apart and made real.
“we should talk more,” paige told her. “before you leave.”
azzi nodded soundlessly, skin a little more lived in, and paige flashed her a tender smile. her hand was calloused, experienced, as it squeezed the flesh of azzi’s shoulder. they both were aware of the bone there, perched underneath the meat, delicate and mineral like a bird’s.
but that wasn't all of it. that couldn't be all of it, because nothing was ever just what it was.
so, there were other moments. small instances that accumulated like snow, soft and ignorable until suddenly you were buried in white, until you couldn't remember what it felt like to breathe without the weight, or mistook it for your wedding day.
slowly, azzi began to look forward to the drive, to that wind-up drive like a jack-in-the-box. the pressure never settled until she saw paige—long-legged and golden—waiting for them on the porch. the trees got barer the more often they went, autumn deepening into winter, seasons sawing at the world until parts broke off and showed the changes.
they were also beginning to break at this time. he would scream at her, and she’d scream back, and then they’d do the drive, and by that, azzi meant he’d do all of the driving. in hindsight, she suspected it was his way of apologizing for the time that had been wasted, spent away from her.
she didn’t know if she was resentful about it—still didn’t—and even if she was, she didn’t think she could ever tell him. she let her head loll back and forth as the tires bumped along the pavement, swinging from one side to the other to look at him instead of the vivid slur of oranges and reds right outside her window.
she studied him, and he pretended not to notice, and she felt the loom of the inevitable severing like illness blossoming in the body. she felt more as though she was losing access to something, rather than losing him.
they spoke nothing of it, always turned the radio on.
her twenty-third birthday arrived on a tuesday, one day off on a monday, the day she had been born on in the year two-thousand-and-two. maybe that was why it didn’t feel right. he gave her a necklace. pretty enough, delicate in a way that spoke to a sales associate having been consulted, gold and safe and mistaken because azzi almost always wore silver. white-gold at best.
still, she had smiled, let him fasten it around her throat where it sat like a tumor all dolled up.
paige's gift arrived three days later, a package wrapped efficiently in brown paper that was slightly crumpled along the edges, marginally mutilated in the mail. inside: a first edition of the marriage plot by jeffrey eugenides, the pages more yellowed than creamed, its spine cracked in several places that hinted at someone who had loved it first, had broken it open again and again. there was a note tucked inside the front cover, paige's handwriting blocky and slanted, and sure:
saw this at an estate sale and thought of what you said about translation. think you mentioned liking that other one. the one with all the dying (??)—azzi laughed wetly—anyway, happy birthday, azzi. — p.b
azzi had sat on her bathroom floor and cried for twenty minutes, the book pressed hard to her chest like a wound she was trying to stanch. then she crawled into her room and called her mother, lungs heaving as she tried to make her understand.
i feel so fucking stuck, mama, she said. he’s supposed to be enough. i’m supposed to be a lucky girl. i don’t know why i am so stuck on her.
you don’t know that for sure, her mother dismissed her. if you’re stuck on her. it’s probably distant or a projection. talk to him, honey.
i think it’s over. i can feel it. and i’m always right.
a moment of silence, and then azzi continued to confess.
well, i kind of hope it is. if he broke up with me right now, i don’t think i’d cry. i’d just sit there. frozen, but glad that it was over.
her mother hummed, and azzi heard the sheets whisper beneath her as she turned on her bed.
you never were a pretty crier.
and the remembering. god, the remembering.
not the big, performative things that anyone could manage if they tried hard enough—birthdays marked in phone calendars, anniversaries that came with expectations—but the small stuff that revealed actual attention, actual presence.
paige knew azzi took her coffee with almond milk, not regular, knew she was allergic to walnuts but could eat every other nut just fine, knew she was trying to read more toni morrison after mentioning once, once, over dinner four months ago, that she loved sula.
three weeks after that conversation, paige texted her a photo of a passage from beloved, the page worn, a dog with its ear down:
she is a friend of my mind. she gather me, man. the pieces i am, she gather them and give them back to me in all the right order.
the caption just said: thought of you.
azzi had stared at her phone for ten minutes, her heart doing something complicated and irreversible in her chest. she wanted to scream, wanted to call her and demand she explain why the hell she was thinking of her. why would she tell her of this attention, of this thought in and of itself?
were there multiple? thoughts of her?
the boyfriend forgot her coffee order every single time. would hand her a cup with regular milk, watch her take a sip and grimace, and say, "oh shit, was that wrong?" with his silver spoon clenched coyly between his teeth, like it was charming to not retain basic information about her body, her needs.
there was the night azzi couldn't sleep, winter break endless and siberian around them. they were at the lake house for a long weekend, and he had passed out early, his snoring rattling through the walls like a car engine trying its hardest to rev and start and be something more than mechanical and disruptive.
azzi gave up hope around two in the morning, padding downstairs in one white sock before peeling it off to match her naked foot, wearing one of his sweatshirts that smelled like tide and nothing else, stripped of sentiment.
paige was on the couch, laptop balanced on her toned thighs, blue light carving shadows into her face, making her appear like a sculpture. azzi wondered what would be inscribed on the plaque. reading glasses were perched on her nose, small and grey and wired, most likely something quietly designer.
azzi hadn't known she wore glasses. the discovery felt intimate, and she made the decision that she liked them. especially as they were now, matched with the bun settled like a low sun at the nape of her neck.
she glanced up when azzi appeared in the doorway, barefoot and half-asleep and probably pathetic.
"hey, az. can’t sleep?”
the nickname was another thing, too. azzi shook her head, her throat weilded shut with something that was terrifyingly close to a feeling she’d wanted all of her life. paige shifted, closed the laptop slightly, and made room on the couch. she patted the cushion beside her, open and kind.
“want to keep me company? just going through last-minute contracts. boring shit, honestly. one page could probably knock you right out."
azzi sat, still silent. the couch was worn-in, eager to give beneath you in a way that was a result of furniture that had been loved consistently, had held generations through years of the same evenings. paige reopened her mac, kept working, but her presence was—well, it was.
solid. warm. gravitational.
the house was so quiet that azzi could hear the lake lapping at the dock outside, could hear the far cry of a loon, then another’s call back. could hear paige's breathing, the inhale steady, the expansion even.
paige began to explain something about sports tech startups, some partnership she was navigating and negotiating, her voice low and unhurried. azzi tried to follow, she did, but her eyes were so heavy, and paige's voice was doing something to her nervous system, slowing everything down, and somehow she'd tilted sideways, spilling over until her head found paige's shoulder first, then sliding down to her chest.
paige didn't stiffen, nor did she pull away. she only adjusted slightly, made more room for azzi in this moment of her life, kept on talking in that same steady voice, even though they both knew azzi was barely listening anymore.
when azzi surfaced briefly sometime later—she didn't know how long, time had gone liquid and strange—the mac was closed on the coffee table, a violet that seemed bruise-like in the dark, and the house was devoid of light except for the dim radiance from the kitchen. there was a hand in her hair. fingers moving slowly through her dark, sleep-tousled curls, careful and rhythmic and devastating, like paige had all the time in the world, like this was something she wanted to be doing.
azzi had never felt safer in her entire life. had never felt more seen, more held, more possible. blearily, she raised a hand, limp fingers suddenly revitalized as she placed them over paige’s long ones. paige stilled then, her other hand suddenly burning where it rested against azzi’s waist. then azzi felt her shift, the hand in her hair turning over to take her fingers into their own.
brown against white against black. skin against skin against scalp.
she didn't mention it the next morning. neither did paige. but something had fallen open, a door that neither of them could close again. a bird with its wing bent, its flight never the same. blood to the surface.
the texts came sporadically but consistently, often enough that azzi started looking at her phone far too often, always lying in wait. paige would send her a variety: articles about narrative theory, articles about places she wanted to visit, a photo of the lake at dawn with the mist rising like a bad horror film, a meme that spoke to her age but made azzi laugh loudly enough that people turned to stare at her, right there in the library.
once, just: How are you doing?
no preamble. not a reason in sight. just asking after her.
azzi had stared at the message for five minutes before typing back: tired but okay. how are you?
The best, like always.
azzi smiled into her palm, heart on fire. then,
Let me know if you need anything. Have a good week, Az.
it was such a simple exchange, and so it shouldn't have meant anything. but azzi read it seven times—thrice before she fell asleep—and so she knew it had transformed into some sort of obvious symbolism.
and then there was the afternoon she showed up at the house, burnt out and hollowed, scraped clean by exhaustion. late semester, running on four hours of sleep and caffeine and spite for two weeks straight. the boyfriend was already there, had driven up the day before—azzi couldn’t believe it had been a year, but then again, you could do a lot for a sliver of what you wanted—but azzi had insisted on coming separately because she'd had a meeting she couldn't miss.
( that was the excuse, anyway. really, she just needed the drive alone, needed to not feel the pressure of their inevitable separation, that axe hovering in the enclosed space of a car. )
paige opened the door, and her face did something complicated. surprise, then concern, then something darker and sharper that made azzi feel not good.
"jesus, azzi."
“well, hello to you too," azzi said, trying for lightness, for the easy deflection she'd perfected and preferred.
but paige wasn't smiling; she wasn’t going to pretend to believe in it. she looked—angry wasn't quite right, but adjacent to it. worried in a way that had teeth, and the presence of urgency.
"when's the last time you ate something that wasn't coffee?"
“what?” azzi blustered. “i had an everything bagel this morning. i'm fine."
"you don't look fine, azzi. you look like you're about to collapse." paige's jaw was tight, her hands flexing at her sides like she was physically restraining herself from—from what? reaching out? shaking sense into her?
and something in azzi snapped. she was so tired, so fucking tired, and here was paige looking at her like she wanted her laid out on her chest again, like her well-being was something worth getting upset about, and it was too much. too much attention, too much care.
how dare she be so goddman oppressive?
"why do you even care?" it came out more salient than she’d meant it, almost cruel.
paige went very still. the air between them pulled taut, dangerous. for a moment, neither of them moved, hearts suspended from their movements, both caught in the undertow of what azzi had just asked, and azzi could see the realization moving across both their faces simultaneously—the thing they'd been carefully not naming suddenly there in the open, naked and undeniable and enormous.
paige broke away first, looking past azzi to the water, her throat working.
"okay," she said carefully, and her voice was different now, detached in a new way. much worse. "you should come inside. i made soup."
azzi stood there on the porch, bag heavy and slouched over her shoulder, every organ doing something she had no control over. then she stepped inside and let paige feed her, let her pull a blanket around her shoulders, let her do what her son hadn’t managed to before stumbling upstairs and surrendering to exhaustion in his childhood bedroom.
she texted paige that night from the guest room where she was sleeping alone because the boyfriend said her tossing and turning kept him up.
sorry for snapping earlier. thank you for the soup. and for caring
a second text. clarification:
about me
paige's response came almost immediately, like she'd been holding out:
Nothing to apologize for. You're allowed to be tired, Azzi.
then, a minute later:
I'm glad you're here. Cal said he wasn’t sure if you would. He told me that it’s been a little hard lately.
azzi felt salt rush, hot and heavy, to her face.
it has. i think
she didn’t finish. but it was sent all the same.
and paige knew her because in another minute:
Get some sleep.
azzi read those messages until she could see them behind her eyes, phone still clutched in her hand like a lifeline.
and that was the shape of it, really. how it all happened.
that accumulation. paige showed up the ways that azzi wanted, that the boyfriend—he—cal— had tried to, in every inch that actually counted when you tallied up a life. she paid attention, not just to what azzi said but to what she hadn’t said, to the space azzi felt like she was always living in.
their breakup finally came, and it was a bloodless end, a violence devoid of evidence. azzi knew it was the right thing because she was measuring her happiness by proximity to paige rather than proximity to the boy she was supposedly in love with.
and when it ended—when azzi finally burst into tears in the middle of his boat, face streaked like prints across a glass—of course, she called paige.
who else was there to call?
what other person in her life had ever made her feel like this? worth remembering, worth weathering with all of her complications?
no one, her mama said in her head. the answer is no one.
she called a whole eight hours after.
sat on the bathroom floor of her apartment, knees pulled to her chest, swaddled in the same sweatshirt from when they had met, because she supposed she had some sentiment, and dialed before she could think about what it meant.
paige answered on the second ring. "az?"
and azzi snapped neatly in half. the sound that came out of her was ugly, wet, and nothing she could control. she pressed her palm against her mouth, but it didn't stop.
"azzi?" paige's voice changed, leaned softer and desperate all at once. "azzi? i need you to talk to me."
azzi knew then that she had already gotten the news. of course, she knew. why would azzi have access to her in a way that her son already didn’t?
"i—" azzi tried. couldn't. the sobs kept ringing loose, fracturing anything and everything she was trying to say. “paige—”
"okay. it's okay. just breathe for me, sweetheart, can you do that?" a pause. azzi could hear paige moving, a door closing. making herself private for this. "where are you? are you safe?"
"uh-huh. y—yeah,” azzi hiccuped. “i'm home. i'm—we ended it." the words were finally delivered, a terrible birth, awful and ragged. "i just couldn't—couldn’t do it anymore."
"okay." paige's voice was so steady that it hurt her. she began to cry all over again. "okay. that's—you did the right thing if it didn't feel right. you know that, right?”
then, as if to remember her son, she added, “i need you to both know that.”
azzi nodded even though paige couldn't see her; neither of them could see the other. azzi hated it, and the feeling was so sudden and all-consuming that she couldn’t help the way she pushed out the truth:
“god, paige. i’m never gonna see you again. and i hate that, and i want it to be different.”
azzi’s voice ripped over the words at the end, and she pressed her forehead to her knees, dug them in. she could hear paige breathing on the other end, could picture her: probably in the kitchen or her office, leaning against the counter or the corner of the desk in the way she defaulted to when she was thinking. for her mental health, she pretended that the other woman’s breathing sounded just as wet.
( it was. )
“az—azzi—do you need someone right now? do you want me to come to you?" paige asked. "i can be there in two hours. you just have to tell me.”
and that's when it hit her, what she was doing. calling her ex-boyfriend's mother. bawling down the line to her. aching for her to come, aching to be held by her, aching, aching, aching.
wanting wanting wanting.
needing, needing, needing.
the enormity of it closed around her throat with a phantom hand.
“i’m sorry. i have to go," azzi said and hung up, right as she heard the beginning of her name.
her phone lit up immediately. paige calling back.
again.
then again.
after the fourth time, maybe the fifth, a text: Just let me know you're okay.
Please.
azzi turned her phone facedown, rolled herself face down, and sobbed until she passed out.
the cab driver didn’t try to talk to her, which azzi was grateful for. she’d be sure to tip him properly.
she watched the trees thicken as they got farther from the city, clustering in dense families, the road thinning into that familiar narrow drive that never stopped climbing up. the box on her lap was embarrassingly weightless: a charger (his, not hers), a paperback he'd bought at an airport and never opened, a hoodie that she suspected was actually his mother’s, and four pristine laundry pods—purple and white, chemical and forgettable.
evidence of a year and some change that had roughly felt like holding her breath.
she could've mailed it. should've mailed it, really.
it would've cost her twelve dollars, maybe a little more through the expedited option, and saved her the four-hour drive, saved her from whatever this was. this pilgrimage, this gentle press around the edge of the puncture, disguised as courtesy. and yet, here she was, wearing the vintage pendleton coat she'd found at a thrift store in the city last winter, the one she'd been too afraid to wear because her mother had drilled into her that it was good to have at least one thing she was saving for special occasions.
it was deep brown, wool with plum purple geometric patterns that met and split, making her feel as though she belonged in a different era, in a different life. one where she was allowed to get what she wanted, where nothing hurt as much. where nothing had a consequence, not even smoking ‘til your lungs were blacked out.
the fur collar was soft against her jaw and mirrored the matching softness that touched at her wrists—there was fur at the sleeves, too—and she'd put on two sticky coats of mascara before heading this morning, even though she told herself it wasn’t ever going to matter again. she had stood in front of her mirror for twenty minutes trying to get her eyeliner right before giving up and wiping it off.
it mattered. it mattered then, and it would matter now, and it would matter in all the time after.
it had been a month since she ended it. a month since that phone call. a month since she heard paige say sweetheart like it was something azzi was meant to always be called; a fact rather than a plea from a month two decades older than her.
a month later, and now she was finally showing up, with a phone charger that had been sitting in a drawer the entire time.
the absurdity wasn’t lost on her.
she kept trying to remember why she came. all the right reasons slid through the pink animal of her brain: to return his things, to do the right thing, to prove she could be an adult about this and her, that she could close doors properly instead of just walking away and leaving them swinging on their hinges. but the truth was folding and unfolding in her chest like a bird that couldn’t land, that kept diving and trying to find a branch strong enough to hold it.
she missed paige's kitchen, the way the evening light sometimes came through the blinds’ slats in stripes. she missed the way paige said her name. never as an obligation, but as the title of someone deserving of the full gravity of attention. she missed the feeling of being asked what she had meant two days ago when she’d said [x,y,z], of being invited to elaborate.
the house appeared through the forest like something out of a dream she could never stop having, red against the rust and amber and dying gold of the season. there was smoke spinning from the chimney, dense pulses of ash grey released into the world. she found that the lights were on inside, golden and warm and less of a wound than she thought it would be. her heart performed something complicated, a mechanism she didn’t have language for yet, but suspected she'd been building a vocabulary for all year.
the cab crunched into the gravel drive, and the sound of it—that grind, that announcement—made her want to ask the driver to keep going, to turn around, to take her anywhere but here, where she had to be honest.
but she paid. took the box. stood there as the car pulled away, red taillights disappearing into the dusk as it abandoned her.
the evening was arctic enough that she could see her breath, small brittle ghosts of evidence that she was still here, still doing this. still living. across the lake, the far shore was blurring into dark, the water going black and depthless. there was that loon again, somewhere, its call lonely and ancient, a song that reinforced the belief in longing as a physical force.
she walked to the door. her boots were ridiculously loud on the wooden porch, all that unnecessary stomping. everything was too loud: her breathing, her labored heartbeat, the small whisper the box made when she shifted it in her arms.
azzi thought of turning back. she knocked.
the moment before it opened felt longer than the whole drive up, longer than the self-imposed month of silence, longer than the entire span of time she spent trying to love someone she couldn't.
then paige was there.
backlit by the warm interior, surprise and something stranger moved across her face like a squall, dragging up every sheltered emotion that needed to be dealt with. she was wearing a worn thermal the color of moss, sleeves pushed up to her elbows, and those same forest-green sweats from the first time, sitting even lower on those slender hips than azzi remembered. she wanted to put her mouth on them, see if they would slot into hers.
her hair was down, slightly shorter than the last time azzi had seen her, falling just past her shoulders in waves that looked restless. like she'd been running her hands through them.
face bare. glasses pushed up onto her head. a dishtowel slung over one shoulder. her arms were flexed by the way she held them, the muscled corded and pressing nicely along the skin.
jesus.
she looked like every little soft bit of life azzi had been too afraid to reach for since she was born.
“azzi?”
just her name. tentative and careful, slit in sweeping sections by the razor of desire.
paige craned her neck, glancing behind her, looking for an explanation.
“did you get an uber here?”
azzi meant to explain, make her understand. meant to hold up the box—look, evidence, a reason, an excuse—and say something normal about being in the area (she wasn't), about the cab driver taking one look at her and then saying he had the time (he did; she looked a little on the brink), about wanting to return his things properly (a month late, as if that makes sense), about closure (what a lie, what a joke, what a way to avoid saying i came here because i needed to see you, because i can't stop thinking about your hands on my head, because i haven't felt like a real woman since i hung up on you).
instead, what tumbled out was:
"i missed you."
the box was still in her hands. the woods were still broad and tall behind her, all those trees witnesses to this pivotal moment of her life. paige didn’t move, but something in her chest must’ve cracked open—just slightly—because a fault line appeared on her face, and azzi felt the ground shifting beneath them both.
“miss you,” she tacked on, provoked by some unseen poltergeist.
azzi watched it continue to happen. watched paige's throat work, her hands flexing sharply at her sides like she's physically stopping herself from reaching out. watched the way paige's eyes went gentle and pointed in the same second, like she'd been hit and kissed simultaneously.
"azzi—" paige started, and her voice was a kaleidoscope of feeling. real rough around the edges. like she had been waiting and dreading this admittance in equal measure.
"i know," azzi interrupted, because she can't bear to hear whatever reasonable adult thing paige was about to say, whatever gentle rejection or complicated truth. "i know it's—i know. but i had to tell you. i couldn't—" her voice broke, reformed. "i couldn't not tell you."
the box was so light in her hands it might as well not have existed. they both knew it. this flimsy excuse, this handful of objects that meant nothing, that never meant anything. a phone charger. a month of silence. the most transparent lie azzi's ever tried to tell.
paige gazed at her for the world’s longest breath, and azzi felt stripped bare despite the coat, despite the mascara, despite every little layer she tried to construct from her half-shattered spirit on the drive here. then paige stepped back, made room in the doorway, a space for azzi to enter.
"come on," paige said quietly, and it sounded like penance.
it sounded like god, finally.
azzi stepped carefully over the threshold, as if she was still at the risk of getting struck down, and the warmth of the house wrapped around her like an embrace, a little like forgiveness. she still wasn’t sure if she had done anything deeply wrong. she could smell something cooking—garlic, maybe thyme—and there was music dripping softly from somewhere deeper in the house, a leak of something slow and aching that she was unable to place.
paige closed the door behind her, and the latch of it—that soft, final click—felt like the form of a decision they both wanted the other to make.
"here," paige said, reaching for the box, and when their fingers brushed in the exchange, azzi felt it everywhere. a bite, then infection. "let me take that."
she set it on the small table by the door without looking at it, already forgotten. they both knew it was never the point. then she half-turned back to azzi, and azzi could feel the rise of sick in the back of her throat, acidic and threatening.
"coat?" paige asked softly, but it wasn’t really a question.
azzi shrugged out of it, suddenly too warm, hyperaware of every inch of space between them. paige took it, hung it delicately on the hook by the door, the fabric covering the jutting gleam of the metal curve. her fingers lingered on the wool for just a moment.
"i like this," paige remarked. "i don't think i've seen you wear it before."
"i—" azzi started, then stopped. because what was she supposed to say? i never wore it even after i bought it because i never had a special occasion; you were the special occasion. i bought it when i was trying to self-medicate through the act of losing all my money, when i was trying to ignore you and what you meant to me.
but paige was already moving into the house, gesturing for azzi to follow, and azzi did, helpless to do anything else.
the living room was exactly as she remembered—it’s only been a fucking month, she reminded herself—worn couch, the fireplace crackling, the cherry wood table where paige’s mac always sat. and it was that table that stopped her cold.
paige's laptop was there and open, several tabs visible across the top of the screen. azzi's eyes caught on one automatically, trained after days of interning to know her own work, and her lungs flattened violently in her chest.
it was her article. the one she wrote for the atlantic, about parasocial relationships and the translation of intimacy across digital spaces. her first real publication, her byline in a magazine that actually mattered.
only went live two weeks ago.
paige had it open.
paige had been reading it.
azzi just stood there, staring, and she could feel the exact moment paige realized what she was seeing, could feel the air filter into something different between them.
"azzi—" paige began, and there was a note of something helpless in her voice now, a cadence that spoke to being caught.
"you were—you’ve read my article," azzi said, stupid and small. her voice comes out higher than she intended it to, far more vulnerable. "you—how did you even—"
"when you got your internship, you texted me about it. told me that if you did it right, then it might get picked, might go live," paige answered, voice low. "a little over two months ago. and i knew you would do it right, would get picked. i had no doubt. and then—" she didn’t finish.
didn’t need to.
and then the breakup, the phone call, the wailing into the bathroom tile, everything falling apart.
azzi knew she was right. god, she had the memory in her hindbrain like a trauma response. she'd been so excited, had wanted to share the opportunity with someone who would actually encourage her, and she and the boyfriend—him—cal—‘c’—had been at their most fragile.
so, she'd texted paige without thinking, without considering what it revealed about who she wanted to celebrate with.
"i've read it a couple of times," paige admitted, and she wasn’t looking at azzi when azzi turned around. she was glaring at the computer instead, as if it were easier. "some of the shit just went over my head. ‘nd i was reading it again when you—when i heard the car."
azzi tilted her head up, the defense she always put in play when she didn’t want to dissolve in front of anyone she knew.
"paige," she croaked, and it came out as a prayer, near a confession.
she sensed it when paige finally looked at her, so azzi brought her head back down, and paige’s eyes were so blue, so piercing that azzi felt lanced clean through.
"i've been thinking about you," paige admitted, and her voice was raw now, translucent. if it were skin, azzi would see every vein. "thought about you every day. but azzi—" she paused, and azzi could see her trying to locate the right words, the mature words. "this is complicated."
"i know," azzi agreed quietly.
"he's my son."
"i know."
"and you just—it's only been a month."
"i know that too." azzi wrapped her arms around herself, abruptly cold despite the warmth of the house. the coat was still on the hook by the door, and she wished she hadn't taken it off, wished she had that extra layer of protection. she gave in to the feeling, put it back on. “but really, i had a year. and then some.”
paige let out a breath, shutting her eyes tightly as if they would make the statement less accurate. azzi continued, voice light as margarita ice.
"i'm not asking you to—i don't even know what i'm asking for. i just needed to see you. i needed you to know that i—"
she trailed off, because what was there to say that wouldn’t make this harder? that wouldn’t put more pressure on something already so strained that it might break them both?
paige was silent for a beat, and when she spoke again, her voice had crumbled into something tender. azzi wondered if she appeared to her as callow as she felt.
"come here."
azzi stilled, glanced down to where paige's hand extended between them. an offering. neither promise, nor solution, just—come here.
azzi went.
paige wrapped her arms around her, flesh against flesh, and azzi burrowed into her chest, still wearing her big brown coat, the fur at the collar swallowing her frame as she tucked herself anxiously into paige's warmth. she felt like an animal seeking shelter; she needed this recognition of her body.
she felt paige's hand come up to her hair, fingers threading through the curls in that same gentle rhythm from that night they had never addressed on the couch, careful and steady and the same and devastating.
"you know what my favorite part of the article was?" paige murmured. azzi could feel the words rumbling in her chest. she shook her head, eyes closed. "the part about you wrote about how we choose to translate intimacy, how something always gets lost, but we’re willing to lose because there’s something new that gets created in the space between. thought about you the whole time. thought about—"
she broke off. tried again.
"thought about all the ways i've been trying to put what i feel into something that can make sense."
azzi didn’t say anything. couldn’t. she only pressed closer, her face against paige's sternum, and let the older woman hold her like this was something she was allowed to have, even if it was just for now, even if it was complicated, even if neither of them knew what happened next.
through the window, she could see the lake obfuscating, the water going smooth and black as glass as the evening eclipsed it. the far shore had disappeared completely now, swallowed in full by the dusk. there was still the loon calling out, lonely and persistent, and azzi thought about migration, about how some birds traveled thousands of miles just to return to the same place every year.
not because it was easy living, but because it was their home.
nothing small to abandon.
“he called me yesterday," paige told her, and azzi’s body tensed despite itself. "said he's doing okay. said he thinks it was the right thing, ending it. that you both knew for a while."
"yeah," azzi whispered into the fabric of paige's thermal. “we did.”
"he said—" paige's hand stilled in azzi's hair for just a moment. "he said he thinks you were always a little bit in love with someone else. that he could never quite figure out who."
azzi's throat folded and sealed. she refused to pull back, couldn’t bear to see paige's face right now.
"azzi," paige prodded gently, and there was a question in it, but also understanding. like maybe she already knew. like maybe she'd known for a while.
"i didn't mean for it to happen," azzi managed. "i didn't—i tried so hard not to. i didn’t set out with the intention for—with the intention for you to happen to me.”
"i know," paige soothed, and her arms tightened around azzi a fraction. "i know you didn’t."
they stood like that as the light continued to die outside, as the lake turned to ink and the sky went from purple to navy to black. paige's hand never once stopped carding through azzi's hair, that gentle, rhythmic comfort that asked for nothing and gave everything.
"i don't know what to do. what we do now," azzi admitted, slightly childlike in her demand for an answer.
"i don't either," paige replied. "but you're here. and i'm—i'm glad you're here. i think i need you here."
it was a good answer, because it made azzi realize that they were in the same place, full of the same feelings, and trying to map out an escape.
azzi pulled back by a small margin, just enough so that she could behold the vision of paige's face. the light snagged on the hard line of her jaw, making it look hard enough to withstand the molten pressure of azzi’s lips crushed against it. she wanted to try, but—
"do we fit?" azzi asked, and her voice was so meager, so afraid of the answer. "do you think—can we fit?"
paige's hands came up to azzi's shoulders, found the heavy lay of the coat. slowly, carefully, she eased it off, let it pool at their feet like shed skin, the last layer of pretense finally falling away. underneath, azzi was wearing just a thin little sweater and matching cotton pants, black as a lamb and doubly as soft, and she felt overly exposed, like a picture in development.
paige's hands settled on her waist, thumbs brushing reverently against the fabric, and then she was dragging azzi closer, eliminating all space between them until they were pressed together, chest to chest, hip to hip, bone to bone. azzi could feel paige's pulse, the path of her life, or maybe it was her own, or maybe their hearts were syncing up, and she was having trouble telling the difference.
"yeah," paige murmured, and then her mouth was at azzi's temple, pressing a kiss there that felt like a promise. "yeah, baby, we fit."
baby was good, azzi thought dizzily. better than sweetheart. i don’t know how.
paige kissed patiently down the side of her face, slow and so deliberate, and azzi's eyes fluttered closed. her body twitched, trembling under the touches, awkward and nervous under the assault of love. paige's lips found the height of her cheekbone, the corner of her jaw, and then—god—the soft skin just below her ear.
azzi's breath caught completely, hands flying up to clutch at paige's shirt, in need of something tangible to keep her anchored.
"we fit," paige repeated against her neck, the words vibrating right through azzi's skin. another kiss, lower this time, at the curve where her neck met her shoulder. "we've always fit, az. you know that."
azzi made a sound she didn't recognize, something between a sob and a sigh—a release all the same—and paige's arms tightened around her, holding her up, holding her together.
“you know that, baby.”
another kiss.
"i've got you," paige whispered into her skin. "i've got you, and you're here, and we're—we're gonna figure this out."
eventually—azzi didn't know how long, time had gone soft and strange again—paige pulled back just enough to cup azzi's face, thumbs brushing away the tears azzi hadn't realized had even fallen.
"c'mon," paige urged her gently. "let’s get you something to eat."
azzi used to never get a moment. she was getting one now.
she almost slipped up, almost confessed to paige that she wanted to stay here forever. instead, she reached up to brush under the other woman’s eyes with the tips of her fingers, stayed silent.
the urge to dig in, to carve her out, to—azzi nodded.
paige smiled, a slow spread of teeth, and threaded their hands together, leading her in.
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