@sky-bison-lover - Tumblr Blog

Jul 22, 2025

All-Star Behavior

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?”

Azzi turned around, fully focused now. “Obviously.”

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.

Azzi watched her. Eyes locked. Controlled. Unforgiving.

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.

“I’m—I’m dripping,” Paige whispered, barely audible. “Az, please.”

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—hot, fast, devouring—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 just had her on her tongue twenty minutes earlier.

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.

“Please,” Azzi managed, “please, I can’t—”

“You can,” Paige murmured, lips brushing slick skin. “You will.”

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.”

Azzi’s eyes rolled back, lips parted, barely breathing.

“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.”