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little bit addicted

kathryn hahn / aubrey plaza / fem!reader chapter 15 | wc: 22.7k contents & warnings: nsfw, tickle fic, ex drama & mentions of cheating, brief ler!reader, brief lee!kathryn, porn watching, threesomes, oral sex, sex tape (audio), overstimulation, foot job (r receiving), ler!aubrey, lee!reader, foot tickling, underarm tickling, rib tickling, ass tickling, nonpenetrative assplay, crying during sex, vaginal fingering, praise kink, pet names (baby, honey, good girl, pretty girl, sweetheart), l bombs, alcohol consumption, intense genital tickling

previous chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9 10 11 12 13 14

"Wow," Riley breathes as the pair of you pull up to the end of the road leading up to Danny's place. You can see it up the hill, a large glass structure at the end of a winding, dark driveway. "This is the place?"

You pull your phone out and text Kathryn.

'it's the place with the long driveway right?'

She responds just a beat later.

'Yeah, top of the hill. Have fun tonight'

"Yeah, this is the place," you confirm. "Please don't let me be underdressed."

Riley heads up the drive and finds some space where she won't be blocking in any of the other cars. The cool air has prevented people from hanging out on the gorgeous second floor balcony that you can see from outside. The view of the city in the distance must be insane.

You're let in by a woman you don't recognize who promises to find Danny for you as you get comfortable - you're pleased to see that you two aren't underdressed at all.

"I can't wait until I'm desensitized to all these insane houses your friends have," Riley tells you softly.

"Our friends," you correct, squeezing her hand and leading her toward the living room. The house is bustling with activity, people milling around and chatting, music playing from the living area as you head toward it.

"Was there an occasion?" Riley asks. "Should we have brought something?"

"Kathryn says he's starting a new huge collab — so if you see any influencers that might know Alycia lurking around, warn me," you say.

"All I see is influencers," she points out.

She snorts, then turns and waves Danny over as she spots him. He makes his way through the room and immediately pulls you each into a side hug and cheek kiss in turn.

"You two look gorgeous," he says. You're glad you did a decent job of making yourself presentable after the evening you'd had.

"It's all Riley," you say. "She's basically my personal shopper."

She blushes and nudges you softly.

"You two need a drink. Right?" He leads you to the kitchen, where only a few more strangers are hanging out.

It's much quieter and gives you a chance to take in your surroundings a little more as Danny goes about pouring you each a drink.

"Thank you again for the invitation."

"Oh of course," he replies. He gestures with his free hand. "Though I did half-expect to see the two of you come with your usual dates - minus Kathryn, she said that she had an early morning."

You chuckle and scratch your neck. You actually hadn't known that, and felt a little guilty for her ordeal.

"I'm still trying to meet everyone - lot of strangers here, tonight, I only know like half the guests. You two make yourselves at home."

He leaves you to it and you turn to Riley with a nervous laugh.

"I don't know how to mingle. Do you?"

"Guess we'll figure it out," she replies, linking your arm with hers to lead you out of the kitchen and into the fray. You're grateful for her confidence, as usual.

"Every time I turn around and think I recognize someone, I realize I just know them from Instagram," Riley mutters, causing you to snort into your drink and then glance around shyly to make sure no one was near enough to overhear the two of you.

"I mean," You reason, "That's not so bad. Even Danny doesn't know everyone personally, yet."

You automatically find him in the throng of people, chatting to a couple of women that appear to be about your age, which puts you at ease.

The woman who had let the two of you in earlier appears at your side and smiles, as if sensing that the two of you need an ice breaker.

"How do you know Danny?"

"Friend of a friend, I guess," you reply with a smile, hiding your blush behind a sip of your drink. She turns to Riley questioningly, and she nods to you.

"Of a friend," she tacks on.

"You?" You ask, turning your attention to her completely.

"We go way back," she replies, smiling brightly. She waves someone else over as she continues speaking. "He and I were in art school together. It's really cool to get to be a part of this."

She gestures around the room as two other women join you.

"He's a real ride or die for his old friends, y'know? A good guy to have in your corner."

You don't have a chance to respond when one of the other women hones in on Riley's outfit, and she reaches out boldly to pluck at her top.

"This is gorgeous - where'd you get it?"

"Oh," Riley glances down at herself and then beams, "I made it, last year."

"Is that how you know Dan? Fashion friends?"

"Oh, I um -" Riley pauses and you realize she's about to say she's not even really his friend, she's your friend, but then your heart swells when she seems to change her mind. "No, no we met totally randomly."

"Kismet," The third woman responds.

Your insides feel warm and you know it has nothing to do with the alcohol. You feel comfortable, meeting new people and not feeling like you need your hand held through it. You hadn't felt so sure of yourself since way earlier in your relationship with Alycia.

It's the unwelcome thought of her that makes you briefly assume you're hallucinating when Danny suddenly turns down the music and calls attention to himself near the stereo system against the wall. You look up and smile, listening as he starts to say a few words of gratitude, and then your face drops as you lock eyes with your ex standing across the room.

You have to blink hard to make sure it's her, then grab Riley's hand roughly - nails digging into her fingers hard enough to draw her attention to you and then follow your gaze. You can't bring yourself to look at her but you see her expression harden in your peripheral view. Danny wraps up his speaking and she cheers along with everyone else, albeit a little performatively to prove everything is totally fine, and you slip your hand out of hers to rush for the balcony door.

The rushing sound in your head quiets and your warm cheeks immediately cool as you step out into the fresh air.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket and you ignore it, though you have a feeling the source of the notification is standing behind you once you hear the door open again. You ignore it, walking over to the edge and peering out at the view.

"Since this is technically a work event and I can't pin you down over text, I'll say this once and I'll make it brief," Alycia announces. "Ryan and I are coming forward about what happened."

You squeeze the balcony railing and close your eyes.

"She's getting fucking... dogpiled by the rumor mill and it's making things sound way worse than they are and I'd really rather just nip this in the bud."

You whirl around angrily as she approaches.

"You have to be fucking kidding me. It's making things sound worse? What are people saying, that she stole my kidney? Or just my girlfriend. Because the truth sounds pretty shitty, too."

Alycia shakes her head, clicking her tongue in annoyance.

"She doesn't deserve this."

"Of course she does. She deserves it, you deserve it, hell - Katie deserves it," you reply, referring to the first other woman, though you knew she didn't have the same up-and-coming public image that Ryan did. "You deserve it and each other."

You expect Alycia to snap back at you but she has the decency to look almost understanding.

"I'm sorry that I hurt you. But I'm trying to make sure no one else gets hurt, from all of this."

You scoff angrily, turning to the railing again as Alycia closes the space between you and stands a few feet away at your side.

"If you make the details of our relationship public right now so help me, Alycia, I will come down on you. C&D, gag order, whatever bullshit they're using these days for this kind of petty shit."

It's a half-empty threat. You manically imagine that idea of Kathryn's PR team at your disposal versus hers again and for once it doesn't seem too bad. You shake the thought away - it's dramatic and not to mention overkill.

"You're being so difficult," Alycia groans, clutching her hair in frustration.

"You owe me!" You snap back.

"For how long, [Y/N]? Forever? I fucked up, I can't apologize anymore than I already have, if you genuinely believe I'm not allowed to move on from making this mistake, just tell me now."

She stares at you intensely and you hold her gaze for as long as you can before realizing she's right and scratching at the back of your neck.

"I just... need time."

"Why? It's been months. And I'm the one who is going to have to make a comeback from this, especially once the details come out."

You groan and sink down onto the edge of the nearest bamboo and cushion sofa.

"I'm... the relationship I'm in is... complicated. And it's going to probably be delegitimized pretty heavily right out the gate as is, without it looking like some kind of... post-breakup cry for attention. But we need to be allowed to come out about it before anything else with my name attached to it does."

Alycia eyes you and crosses her arms.

"You're not going to tell me who it is, are you?"

You inhale heavily and hold it for a beat then shake your head, looking straight ahead instead of at her.

"No. You can find out when everyone else does, if you care to."

She shuffles her weight a little, clearly put on the spot by the realization that you're no longer just her ex that will probably fade out of her radar post-breakup like you would have a few months earlier.

"Well. As long as you're happy."

It's just the polite thing to say, and while she's probably not actively wishing on your downfall, she really doesn't care whether you are or not, deep down. You nod nonetheless.

"Yeah. Thanks." You stand again and turn to her. "We'll be out in the open soon. Weeks, probably, if not less. Then you're free to say whatever you want about me - you can even lie, for all I care."

"I won't," she replies, much more honest. The two of you lock eyes again and she sighs, rolling her eyes. "So what, you like... soft-launching? Making it Instagram-official?"

You purse your lips and shake your head, and her eyebrows raise curiously.

"... Tabloid official?"

You can feel your cheeks redden a little as she gets closer to the truth and she gasps. You turn away and shake your head.

"None of that." It's technically true. You want to mention the bread crumbing but she's familiar with the strategy and you know that'll narrow her options to guess from down significantly and dangerously.

"Well, then, I guess I'll just... wait for your debut," she says, her tone only half-bitter.

The door behind you slides open and Riley pokes her head out, her expression stern as she stares Alycia down and then looks at you much more softly.

"You're very missed in here," she tells you, and only you. "C'mon, people are looking for you."

You turn to follow her in without glancing back at Alycia, leaving the door open behind you for her to follow on her time as you rejoin the fray of guests.

"Everything okay?" she asks you, leaning in close. You nod, avoiding her eye.

You feel a twisted jolt of power that you don't recognize in yourself; a sort of tingling, physical sensation to go with the thought of jealousy - other people's jealousy - at what you have. You'd fantasized in the past about what it would be like to have something so many other people wanted and the ego that would come from it but having it be a reality - so close to being public knowledge, too - was dangerous. You felt almost high with it, trying to squash it down.

"I just want another drink," you tell Riley, smiling with relief when she drags you toward the kitchen.

-

You manage to avoid Alycia for the rest of the night and down several more drinks before grabbing Riley away from her conversation and dragging her out. You were lucky not to have embarrassed yourself but you can feel the threat on the horizon.

Riley, still sober after her modest 2 drinks, happily follows you out after saying her goodbyes to her new acquaintances, and doesn't try to interrogate you about Alycia until Danny's house is out of sight from the rear view.

"Do you want to talk about it? That must have been kind of intense."

You groan and put your forehead against the cool window.

"I hate her so much."

"Ditto," Riley agrees. "What did she want?"

"Badgering me as usual about wanting to out herself as a cheater," you grumble, picking at your hem of your top. "It's... fine. Pretty soon everyone is going to know what's going on with me and she's going to look like an even bigger asshole."

"Yeah she is," Riley laughs, nudging you softly. You smile a little in spite of your earlier annoyance. "You upgraded. Twice."

You snort and then think about the pair of them probably curled up in Kathryn's bed together at that very moment.

"Speaking of, I'm going home, not back to Kathryn's," you say, and then flop awkwardly around in your seat as Riley realizes she's about to miss your exit and swerves through the traffic.

It's not busy at the extremely late hour but she still gets a honk or two anyway for her trouble.

"I shouldn't have assumed," she says casually, like she didn't just recreate something out of Mad Max. "I just thought, picking you up there... you guys have been attached at the hip, lately."

"She's going on a trip, soon," you sigh, frowning at the reminder. "Need to get it in while I can."

Riley laughs.

"Isn't the whole plus side of two girlfriends meaning at least one is on-call all the time? Or do you guys not... y'know, I never asked. Can I ask?"

You look over at her curiously.

"What, like, about my sex life?" you ask. "Of course you can, Ri. Since when do we not talk about that stuff?"

It's true, the two of you were always very open with one another as best friends. She knew pretty much every dirty detail about you, except for your biggest kink- for some reason that had always been immeasurably shameful and embarrassing. The fact that your girlfriends knew at all - or at least you admitted it - was a miracle.

"Okay," she breathes, relieved. "So?"

"So what?"

"Do you guys still have sex when someone is busy?"

You laugh at the implication a little, then nod. "Yeah. Yeah, we do. I mean, I don't think the two of them have without me since we've been dating but I think that's mainly due to the fact that they're the ones with the busy schedules. I guess, excluding today."

You pause. For a moment it's tempting to tell Riley that last little detail about yourself but you can't bring yourself to.

"What?"

"I mean..." You chuckle, skirting around the deep truth with a partial one. "Today. As an example. Earlier."

"What, they couldn't wait for you? The hell did you rush there for?" Riley snorts.

"Oh," you reply, shaking your head as your voice goes up in pitch slightly. "No, I was there, I was just... I mean, I just watched. Most of it."

Riley's eyebrows shoot up but she keeps her eyes on the road, readjusting her grip on the steering wheel before speaking.

"Jesus, you guys really get up to some shit, huh?"

You have no idea.

You laugh before you can help it, curling into yourself in giggles and shaking your head. Riley seems to get the implication of how right she really is and laughs with you as she approaches your apartment.

"Alright, babe. I'll call you in the morning. Drink lots of water, I love you."

"Love you," you reply, squeezing her awkwardly across the center console of the car before slipping out and heading inside to bed.

-

"I'll only be gone for three days," Kathryn's voice comes through the speaker. You roll onto your back in bed and clutch the phone to your ear with a whine.

"Please?"

"I would, honey. But I don't have time."

You huff a noise of protest. Your hangover was a little harsh but an early morning call to one of your girlfriends had you in a better mood - briefly - until you found out she wasn't going to have time for you that evening, knocking another one of your last couple days with her out of availability.

"Tomorrow?" You request.

She shuffles around on the other end of the line before speaking again.

"Okay. You should call Aubrey, maybe the three of us can talk about all of the... going public stuff."

You squirm excitedly at the thought.

"Okay," you agree. "Okay, yeah. I'll see if she's busy."

"Dinner tomorrow - I'm going to be running around all day but we'll talk then."

You sit up on the bed and sigh.

"That's so far away. What's the earliest you can do?"

She laughs quietly. "Just be patient. I'll talk to you later."

You hang up dejectedly before pulling up Aubrey's contact instead. Your fingers hover over the 'call' button but you hesitate. A text feels too impersonal but you're suddenly a little nervous about asking. How does one tactfully say, 'Hey, Kathryn and I want to go public. How honest do you want us to be? No pressure.'

Forcing yourself into action, you hit 'call' before you can keep second guessing and bring the phone up to your ear.

She doesn't answer, and after it clicks dead after the final ring you consider texting her after all. Clearing your mind, you stare at the text screen and try to come up with a casual opener, when the phone suddenly rings in your hand - Aubrey calling back.

"Hello?"

"Sorry, hands were full," she replies.

"That's okay," you say with a little smile, bringing your hand up to nibble on one of your fingers as you picture her cursing and being unable to get to her buzzing phone. "Dinner tomorrow night? Kathryn's?"

It's quiet for a moment before her voice returns.

"Yeah. Sounds good."

"Okay. Full disclosure..." you stretch your legs out in front of you, flapping your feet anxiously, "Just so you aren't blindsided. We, I mean - not that we're springing it on you, we just- maybe we can all talk about the um... y'know. Being in public. Together. Thing."

Aubrey exhales heavily and you hold your breath.

"Yeah. Okay."

She sounds completely unbothered, if not a little surprised. You laugh softly at your own nervousness dissipating.

"Okay. Yeah."

"That's my line," she replies, a hint of playfulness in her tone.

"Right," you grin.

"How was the party?"

You groan at the reminder. "My ex was there."

"What?" That shocks a real tone out of her, clearly. "Wait, back up-"

"She seems to have been on the influencer guest list. Luckily, everyone kept the claws away."

"Did you tell Dan?"

"No," you admit. "I didn't want to rock the boat. Only you and I guess Riley really know. Jade was probably debriefed, too, by now."

"... Do you want me to say something to him?" she asks.

"No. Thank you, though. I need to get over the shock, first. I'm okay though, really."

She sighs softly and then you hear a small click, her voice coming back tinnier, having evidently put you on speaker. You hear her cabinets opening and things being shuffled around quietly.

"Do you need anything?"

"Tylenol and a time machine," you reply. She laughs softly.

"Get some more sleep. I'll send you something."

You're too grateful to turn down the offer of a gift, especially if it's meant to make you feel better.

"Thank you," you say instead.

"No problem. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

-

You survive your hangover thanks to Aubrey sending you gatorade, pain relievers, and cold brew through postmates, and the following afternoon you feel prepared to finally catch up on some of your coursework before your remote class discussion.

It's a productive start until your internet cuts out an hour in. Pulling up the providers site on your phone lets you know that it's a scheduled maintenance shutdown in the area and offers a map, which only lets you know that it'll be at least the rest of the day.

You try Riley but she doesn't answer, and Jade returns your second call with a text - then informs you both she and Riley are at their separate jobs.

You consider blowing off the class altogether but the nagging reminder that you're already falling behind settles in your mind annoyingly and you finally cave in, texting Kathryn.

'internet cut out as i was getting ready for class, so you can't blame me for skipping'

It's a little manipulative, sure, but it's worth it for the text that appears a few minutes later:

'i'll pick you up in ten, but I'm just dropping you off so you can mooch my wifi'

You grin, and immediately set to packing your bag with your laptop and notebook.

Kathryn's car pulls up at your building in ten minutes as promised and as you go to toss your bag in the back you note the hanging garment cases and other bags. Clearly her morning was already way more productive than yours.

"Don't look at me like that," you say as you climb into the front seat. "It wasn't my fault."

She rolls her eyes at you but smirks nonetheless, wordlessly taking off for her house.

CJ calls when you're about halfway there, her bright and cheery voice filling the car speakers.

"Hey! Have we touched base with Aubrey?"

You give Kathryn a surprised look but she answers CJ instead of you.

"No, she's coming by tonight to talk."

"And [Y/N]?"

"In the car with me, now."

"Oh! Hey!"

"Hi, CJ," you greet, turning to the radio as if she's literally inside the speaker.

"You guys are set. One of my friends went through your social stuff, I think you're all clear," she tells you. "It's just a matter of what Aubrey says, so keep me posted. Are you going to go through with everything if she wants to wait?"

You hadn't considered that before; Kathryn answers for you both.

"Probably not. Not right now, at least," she adds on, shooting you a glance. You nod in agreement - it seems like the fairest option.

"Alright, keep me posted," CJ says, before letting the call go.

You turn to Kathryn properly.

"I don't want her to feel blindsided," you say. "Or pressured."

"I've never known her to feel obligated for something like this. I promise you whatever she decides she wants to do right now will be her honest choice."

That settles you a little, and you stay contemplatively quiet for the rest of the drive. Kathryn tells you she's going for a run as you help her carry bags inside, and helps you get set up in the dining room before leading you upstairs to her room.

She brings a small box light on a stand out of the closet and you laugh at the sight of it.

"What?"

"It's a zoom class, not a Variety interview."

"Well the lighting in there is atrocious and if you open the blinds it'll be like a million degrees in there," she protests, forcing the light into your hands. "Don't be ungrateful. And get out, you're going to be late."

You grin and take the offered light down to your work station, setting it up with a couple minutes to spare before your call starts.

It's a short class - only 40 minutes as a group before you're paired off with a classmate to go over some answers. As the two of you move to your breakout room you wonder if Kathryn had already silently slipped out without you noticing.

Your conversation moves from the questions to the other assignments and you admit that you've got a solid stack of backlogged work to do.

"I'll send you the link to the assignment organizer I used last semester," your classmate tells you as you begin to wrap up the conversation. "It got me out of my academic probation. Unless you want to spend another semester and all that tuition money doing this again in the spring," she adds on playfully.

You hadn't even considered the looming academic probation. Your mouth goes a little dry as you say your goodbyes and sit in silence at the table. You really do intend to get at least one more assignment done before dinner but definitely want a few blissful moments of comfort, first. Namely, making out with your girlfriend.

Shaking the uneasy feeling, you stand up and close your laptop, padding toward the stairs to find said girlfriend.

She's still in the bedroom where you'd left her, though at some point she changed out of the street clothing and into workout clothes - shorts gripping her thighs in contrast to the loose t-shirt swallowing her up. She lays in the middle of the bed, propped against a pillow with her phone up over her head, squinting through her glasses at the screen.

You linger in the doorway for a beat; she looks ridiculously tempting. Your eyes trail down her calves to her bare feet, one propped against the bed with the leg bent at the knee, the other stretched out comfortably.

"Hi, hon." Kathryn's eyes flick to you before returning to your screen. "All done?"

"Taking a break," you admit, making your way over to the foot of the bed. You reach out and cup her heel, then slide your hand up her arch to wrap it around the middle of her foot. She twitches once but doesn't move from your grasp.

"Guess we're both procrastinating," she replies, finally lowering her phone and setting it aside on the bed as your thumb settles neatly into the dip of her arch and stills.

You make a noncommittal noise of agreement and then squeeze her foot softly before letting it go. You know if you don't get your hands off of her you're going to cave in to the urge to tickle her that's gnawing so insistently in your mind now that it makes you realize this is what addicts must feel like.

"Everything okay?" She asks, voice softer when you rest your hand lightly on the bed instead.

Nodding, you climb up between her feet and balance on your knees.

"Uh-huh."

"I need to get up," she says, though it seems mostly directed at herself. She shifts, slightly, setting her glasses aside and moving like she's going to prop herself up on her elbows but you close the space between you and shuffle up between her thighs. Your hands rest on both of them, now, sliding up toward her hips slowly.

She lays back almost like a reflex, then jolts when you intentionally tickle your thumbs over the skin just above the bones. It's not enough to draw a real laugh but she does twist her hips a little when you don't immediately stop, then chuckles and grabs for your hands softly when you continue even longer still.

Before she can comment on it you shake your hands free and let go of her hips altogether, a tiny smirk tugging at your lips as you aim for her ribs, instead.

Just a soft, groping little squeeze on either side just below the band of her sports bra, brushing the material of her shirt against her skin with the pads of your fingers. She jerks, arms tensing inward and the first real giggle escapes.

You feel like a shark catching scent of a single drop of blood in the water.

Leaning forward, pressing your weight fully into her, you kiss her. It's soft but slow, loving even; a preemptive apology for your incoming behavior.

You force her arms away from her sides as you deepen it, fingers forcefully crawling up to cage her in.

"Wait-" she starts as you break away, before full on squealing when you dig in.

You follow her every movement with almost cruel precision; she grabs for your hands but it barely even slows you. Your skittering grip on her ribcage is perfectly balanced, finding the exact amount of pressure and position to tickle as much as possible every time she manages to force you to shift even an inch.

The result is desperate laughter. So unlike her usual repertoire of silent shaking punctuated by the occasional snort or squeaking inhale that you normally get when she's found something truly hilarious, this is more panicked. You have to hand it to yourself, you are good at this. A skill that's been mostly wasted on a card-carrying addict of being on the receiving end of this treatment — years of frustration from watching tickling content online wherein a fumbling tickler messily jumps from spot to spot with poor execution looking almost like miming the act more than committing to it, always skipping past spots that garner a scream as if it all makes no difference.

Not you.

When her whole body shudders and her laughter rockets up in volume because your fingers have massaged right in between two exceptionally sensitive bones you follow her squirming to stay in place, unable to keep the smug smirk from your face when the realization that you absolutely caught that washes visibly over her. Or when you seek out a better spot on the other side than the one you're currently assaulting and she lets out a whimper of defeat when you get your fingers out of her grip and find something deadly. She's much, much less ticklish than you are but you're quickly dismantling all of her resolve with wicked calculation.

Which is why you'll need to stop sooner rather than later. You know you shouldn't have even started in the first place, but the butterflies billowing around in your stomach are egging you on.

"[Y/N]!"

Seeming to finally realize that prying at your hands won't stop you, she reminds you of how much stronger than you she is and wrestles you over. With her hovering over you, your ability to tickle most effectively is stripped and you stop altogether, uninterested in half-assing it.

You smile innocently and she pants, dropping her head to your shoulder with a breathless laugh of disbelief.

"Why?" she demands, though she doesn't sound the least bit genuinely upset. Without giving you a chance to answer - you didn't have an explanation, anyway - she groans softly into your collarbone, her weight slowly sagging into you. "That was fuckin' brutal."

You giggle at that, one hand coming up to wrap around her back. She tenses a little like she's anticipating another attack, but then relaxes as you rub soothingly between her shoulders.

"Sorry," you chuckle.

"I'll get you back in a minute. Let me catch my breath."

You laugh even more at that, shaking your head a little. Her words would sound like a threat to anyone else but you know she's making a promise, like an offer to reciprocate after one-sided sex.

"You don't have to," you tell her. "That one was on the house."

She laughs against your skin and then lifts her head.

"Seriously, that was awful. I'll consider myself lucky your little kink doesn't swing the opposite way."

You grin and shake your head slightly, raising your free arm to brush a bit of her hair back, then fall into contemplative quiet for a moment. She notices, shifting her weight a bit to settle in more comfortably on top of you.

"What's on your mind?"

You purse your lips for a moment, then rip the bandaid off.

"Doesn't bother you, does it?"

"What, you tickling me?" she clarifies. You blush at the question, feeling a little ridiculous.

"All of it," you reply with a little shrug.

"Is this going to be a monthly discussion, now? Do I need to add it to the calendar?" she asks, exasperation leaking into her tone. You blush even more and look away, smiling and rolling your eyes. She shifts, taking your chin in her hand and turning you to face her again. "Look at me."

You do. Your eyes flick back and forth between hers and you urge yourself to feel less anxious; the last thing you need is her thinking you require so much extra reassurance to the point of annoying her.

"I wouldn't so much as poke you in the side ever again if you said the word," you tell her honestly.

She considers this, then shakes her head.

"I might not like it as much as you like it," she wiggles one finger against your side for emphasis, her smile growing when you giggle immediately in response, "But I like ... playing with you. It's fun. You don't have to stop. Plus, it's fun for me when you're on the receiving end because you like it so much."

You soften at that, brushing your thumb over her cheek as she continues.

"I don't do it because of some obligation to turn you on, I do it because I like turning you on. Like... wearing really pretty underwear. Or dropping that whole stern mommy voice thing you love when you don't expect it. Yeah, busted," she teases, in response to your scandalized gasp. "But it's also affection. Sometimes I just want to see you smile. And squirm."

Her finger wiggles again and draws an example out of you right then.

"It's both, to me," you tell her after a beat of careful consideration. "The playing and the... y'know. It's not just sex. I like the intimacy but I like the affection, too. My brain does know the difference in contexts, usually."

"Mm," she settles in and watches you as you speak, fully listening. It spurs you confidently onward.

"You remember when I said I used to hate it? I still... I mean if one of my parents were to decide to start tickling me-" you shudder dramatically and it makes her chuckle. "Eugh. Absolutely not. Or if Riley tickles me I'm not grossed out, or embarrassed, but I'm also not trying to jump her bones for it. It just depends on the relationship. And with you, I have all of it, so... I like all of it? Does that make sense?"

"Sure it does," Kathryn replies easily. "I understand. The same way I'm not doing it to you in the same context every time. You don't have to feel all... dirty or whatever every time you get the urge to be affectionate."

You melt completely, at that, and she notices.

"How long has that been on your mind?"

"A while," you admit. "Like, before you."

She strokes a hand through your hair and then furrows her brow.

"Before the three of us... did you ever...?"

"No one," you confirm. "Not my friends, none of my exes. Hell, I barely had the balls to admit it anonymously online."

"Really?" She looks genuinely surprised, then almost concerned. "That must have been..."

She trails off as she tries to think of a word. Lonely? Unsatisfying?

"It was okay," you reply, trying to ease her mind, and then tacking on playfully, "I had porn."

She laughs a little bit at that, snorting and dropping her head to hide her face in your shirt as her shoulders shake.

"Yeah, speaking of- you types have a whole operation going, huh? Billion dollar industry of tying up beautiful

women and tickling them silly?"

You laugh at the absurdity of her words, nudging her softly a couple times.

"Doing your research?"

"Once or twice," she admits. "Right after that first night when you told me, again after the next time we all stayed in the cabin."

You whistle, feigning being impressed, and she rolls her eyes in amusement.

"Though, I think I barely scratched the surface, pun not intended."

"Well, there's a lot of subgenres, y'know. As with every kink." You unwrap your arms from her to count on your fingers as you speak and she slips off of you to nestle against your side on her stomach instead. "There's the foot people, they're kind of a majority. You have people

who can't differentiate between this and overstimulation and just lump it all together. There's people who can't enjoy it if there isn't an orgasm involved and people who can't enjoy it if there is. People who prefer it as the exclusive stimulation for said orgasm."

Kathryn makes a humming sound of interest at that and you shoot her a playful look.

"Don't get excited. Even I don't know if I have the stamina to take that challenge."

She grins and you drop your hand, turning on your side to give her a dirty, curious look.

"D'you remember which ones you saw?"

She quirks an eyebrow at that and sits up, mirroring your expression.

"I could probably find them again," she says, turning to swing her legs off of the bed. You sit up excitedly and then freeze as she turns to face you again. "But I think you should show me what you like."

"I like you," you reply mock-sweetly. She chuckles darkly and your gut twists pleasantly at how threatening it sounds.

Turning to retrieve the laptop from her dresser, she stalks back up onto the bed and places it between you. You reach to open it, eager, and then gasp when she leans in close and kisses your cheek, then below your ear.

"C'mon..." she encourages softly, pressing another kiss to the sensitive spot she's found. Your eyes flutter and you're glad to already be sitting down. "Please?"

"Why?" you ask shyly, pulling away enough to look at her.

"I want to know what you were fucking yourself to before I came along and made it all better."

You moan out loud before you can help it, and shakily reach for the computer again.

"You first," you demand, pushing the open laptop towards her on the bed. She snorts in amusement, reaching back for her glasses again and putting them on. The whole image makes you grin and you look away to stifle a little laugh as she opens the browser.

"What?" she asks, one eyebrow raising.

"Nothing," you chuckle, "Just nervous."

She pulls up her own history and scrolls for a little, seemingly completely cool and collected compared to you. A moment later the jarring audio from an advertisement for some virus-riddled meet-and-fuck game software comes through the speakers. Reaching over to tap the 'volume down' button a couple times, Kathryn shifts closer to you and then lays on her side propped up on her elbow by you.

Trying to shake off your jitters, you focus, shifting a little stiffly in your own spot and turning your attention to the screen when the 'skip ad' option appears and Kathryn wastes no time in clicking it.

"Oh," you say, before you can help it.

Kathryn's head tilts in your direction but you keep your eyes on the screen thoughtfully.

"Oh?" she repeats.

"Yeah." You drop your gaze to her and smile shyly, shaking your head and looking at the screen. "I um- yeah. I know these guys."

You have no idea what the model's name is, and the video window is large enough that you'd have to reach out and scroll down to see the title, but you don't trust your hands not to shake noticeably if you move. You recognize the studio space, though. You especially recognize the bondage furniture that the model is already partially strapped into.

"Are they... good?" She asks. You giggle at the question, nerves overtaking again.

"Yeah. They're popular. Authentic. Good reputation. Actual fetishists. Everything you want from your niche kink porn."

Your flippancy makes it feel more playful and less awkward, but as the 'ler wanders into frame and wordlessly works a generous amount of oil into their awaiting victims feet, you feel an involuntary squirm building up inside of you. You couldn't remember if you'd seen this exact video before, but you recognized the woman that was beginning to experimentally lighten her touches on the other's feet as a model whose other clips you're familiar enough with.

On screen, the woman suddenly tickles up both soles - it's a brief surprise attack that ends as soon as it begins but the bound model gasps and kicks a little in the stocks. The 'ler doesn't tickle again, not intentionally, but she does stand out of frame to begin the process of placing the attached toe ties.

The 'lee-model makes a noise of protest at this, toes twitching out of the other woman's now-slippery grip before apologizing through a giggle.

"It's okay. That's what the ties are for," Her 'ler teases, calm and casual as she gets the first set attached to her left foot.

Your own toes curl instinctively and in your cross-legged position, Kathryn catches sight of the nervous movement and chuckles darkly. It's a sound that's almost immediately drowned out by the 'lee on screen when her 'ler surprise-attacks again, viciously scratching the bottom of her fully bound foot with all of her nails as the other foot kicks - free, save for the ankle stock - and the rest of her body jolts upright in her seat.

You can't help but squirm, but force yourself to speak, needing something to fill the space.

"Did you watch the whole thing?" You ask.

Kathryn shakes her head, glancing up at you innocently.

"No, just wanted to get the idea." She reaches over to skip forward in the video, somewhere close to the middle of the time bar and perfectly landing at what seems to be the end of the 'lee's first orgasm. The camera angle has changed since the opening shot, and her arms are bound tightly over her head to the top of the chair now. She's coated in a sheen of sweat, or oil, or some combination of both, panting for breath as her 'ler pulls the oversized vibrator away from the soaked crotch of her panties and steps off screen with it.

"Oh. Yeah. About here," Kathryn says casually.

The 'lee slumps for a moment, only having a minute of reprieve before moaning out a quiet, "No, no, no..."

Kathryn looks like she might be about to speak again when she's cut off by the 'lee screaming absolute bloody murder. The camera shifts back down to the foot of her seat to where her 'ler is calmly massaging more oil into one of her feet and scrubbing the life out of the other with a plastic hairbrush clutched in her fist.

"Jesus," Kathryn exhales on a small laugh. You snort, catching her eye and reaching over to pause the video, frame frozen on the 'ler's smug, knowing expression, and the 'lee's anguished one in the background.

"What else?" You ask.

"Hm?"

"You said two times. Unless it was more of this," You gesture at the screen and look back at your girlfriend from your leaned forward position. She grins, ignoring your question.

"You're really blushing."

"Am not," you retort, though even that makes you well-aware of your cheeks becoming warmer.

"Yeah," she laughs. "You are. Look at you!"

You scrunch your nose up at her cooing and teasing, whining with a laugh when she reaches out and pokes gently at your thigh and then more boldly, the side of your back.

"Shut up," you huff, elbowing her hand away from your back harmlessly. She grabs you clumsily and drags you to fall down in a more relaxed position, letting go so you can adjust and mirror her position with the laptop between the two of you.

She reaches over and briefly unpauses the video, the sound of the model on screen filling the space with screaming and begging laughter again.

"It can't be that bad," She muses. "Do people fake this too or is that a vanilla porn thing?"

You turn the volume down further and turn to her, one eyebrow quirking in amusement.

"Yes, there is a lot of bad porn in this category. But you're out of your mind, if you think this seems manageable."

You gesture at the screen. The woman has a second of reprieve before the brush is brought down on her other foot.

Her eyes flick back to the screen, and then to you, and she shrugs.

"Well I'm sure Aubrey picked that brush up with the intention of threatening me but if you'd like to be the one to christen it I'm sure that can be arranged." You try to ignore how dry your mouth has become at the mere thought of tickling her half to death under the pretense of a challenge brought on by her own hubris, but you watch her drop her gaze back to the screen thoughtfully and she rescinds her bluff.

"Okay, fine, I'm just saying, it doesn't seem like it would be a challenge for like, you."

You snort, turning back to shut the video off once and for all and slide the laptop closer, feeling a little more emboldened and a lot more turned on.

"You say that like I have so much experience," you reply, scrolling up to the search bar and tapping in a few key category phrases. Kathryn leans closer and rests her cheek against your shoulder to see a bit better, eyes narrowed curiously as the results load and you begin to scroll.

"That one," she says, pointing to another video from another studio you vaguely recognize.

"Excuse me, it's my turn," you tell her playfully. "You had your chance."

She turns and bites at your arm.

"I mean that was the other one I saw, smart ass."

You chuckle and hover over the thumbnail to watch a few screen grabs rotate and nod before you continue scrolling.

"What," she asks. "No good?"

"All their models look identical and the clips are kind of all the same thing. Same spots, same plot points." You smile a little at referring to the stages of the videos being plots and the joke lands well enough that Kathryn huffs and exhale of a laugh into your arm.

"You're hard to please," she tells you; an obvious lie.

"Mm," you hum lowly, feeling a little more emboldened still. You click the search again to filter out a few more things, then scroll once more. "It just gets boring watching 'hot blonde gets half-tickled in two places, takes a break and fakes a dramatic orgasm and then collects her check' over and over. Though, it does do the job sometimes."

Kathryn snorts again.

"Fair enough. You going to show me what you do like or just scroll forever until I fall asleep?"

"Hey, I haven't watched one of these in months, cut me some slack," you tease. Finally clicking on a familiar thumbnail, you sit back and suddenly feel much more exposed and vulnerable than you did a few moments ago.

Kathryn settles in beside you like you're about to watch the most interesting documentary of all time, and you soften a bit, turning to kiss her cheek when a surge of affection washes over you.

On screen, the fully nude model tests her bonds with mild, unconcerned curiosity.

"Always tied up, huh?"

"Not always," you reply as the masked 'ler model enters the frame and wastes no time with their initial exploration. "But it does sort of come with the territory."

She makes a noise of acknowledgement and you burn to know what she's thinking.

On the screen the action ramps up. The nervous tittering and small jerks of movement turn into real giggles and squirming, then laughter and thrashing as the 'lees better spots are discovered and exploited. The 'ler, having donned a handful of metal claw-tips on his fingers, walks them down her belly, lingering in place there in a way that sends a familiar twinge between your own legs. You smother it down as he keeps moving and almost passes by her groin in his journey to her thighs but stops and doubles back when his fingers brush over a spot that turns her laughter into a panicked yelp.

Kathryn shifts beside you and you briefly wonder if she's picturing the sensation at all, for the first time since the two of you brought out the laptop. You already know from secondhand experience that she's particularly ticklish there - though the man on the screen is being considerably more brutal to the model under his hands than Aubrey ever was to her a few days ago.

"Creative bunch, with all the toys," she comments dryly, though the amusement is clear.

"Mm?"

"The hairbrush, the claws..." She lifts a hand and wiggles her fingers in gesture and you grab it to stop her, face flushing.

"I won't pretend I don't miss your nails," you say. It's true, that with the Agatha press finished she's been keeping them much shorter and neater. It isn't a real complaint though and she clearly sees that in your expression.

"Well if you miss them that badly we can always find a substitute. Actually," she nods to the screen. "Aubrey might still have some of those claws."

Your stomach drops in raw excitement and it must show on your face because she laughs outright.

"Really? Like... from...?" You trail off and Kathryn nods, smirking.

"Mhm."

"I'll uh... try to remember to ask," you say, turning back to the computer.

You let it play for a few moments longer, before he works his way to her knees and you pause it as he begins to work them over.

"Ta-da," you say, monotone and sarcastic as you move to close the browser window. "Like I said - not really a necessity anymore."

You glance back as you close the laptop to find Kathryn watching you, expression soft and adoring and immediately making you melt.

"What?"

"Nothing. C'mere." She beckons you closer with one finger and you crawl back to her. Once you're close enough she pulls you down softly by the shoulder to kiss you. It's almost like a 'thank you' - you can feel the appreciative admiration in it, and know you're being rewarded for your uncharacteristic vulnerability. Beneath that, though, is unurgent heat. Her tongue slips into your mouth as her hand finds the back of your neck and keeps you anchored to her.

You sigh into her mouth as she pulls back slightly and stares up at you, eyes dark.

"I cannot be this turned on right now," she groans, closing her eyes for a moment.

You exhale sharply, and kiss her again with more power. She returns it helplessly before letting her head drop back to the bed and shaking it.

"No. You have schoolwork. I need to go for a run. Aubrey's coming for dinner in a few hours, we aren't doing this now."

You sigh, surrendering, and slide off of her with a little laugh.

"You started it," you accuse.

"Thinking about you," she replies, equally accusing. She looks like she might reach over to poke at you but thinks better of it given your current situation. "C'mon."

She takes the laptop as she gets up, setting it back on the dresser and offering you her hand to lead you back downstairs.

-

Your homework is mind numbing enough to make you forget how anxious the consequences of not doing it made you, and when Kathryn returns from her run about forty minutes later (and shoots you a 'back to work' look of warning instead of letting you follow her to her shower) you give up completely.

The sight of her breathless and sweating immediately brought you back to your activities before she had left and you squirm on the spot at the memory, all thoughts of homework vanishing to make room for impatient horniness. You need a distraction.

You pack up your computer and make your way into the living room instead, flicking on the TV and pulling up your most recent episode of the reality show you'd been watching. You're about halfway through the episode when the doorbell rings.

Launching yourself across the house, sliding recklessly on the tiles in your socks and having to smack into the door to stop yourself, you yank it open and barely let Aubrey make it across the doorway before you kiss her.

The cool bottle of wine in one of her hands presses against your back through your top as she slips her arm around you. She seems slightly surprised but returns the kiss nonetheless, though she pulls away a little sooner than you'd have liked.

"Hello to you too," she greets, reaching back blindly to shut the door. You take the opportunity to press her to it gently, kissing her once more.

The bottle is pulled away and Kathryn's voice cuts through just as you tug Aubrey's lip between your teeth.

"You gonna let her get her shoes off?"

You drop to your knees immediately, then tap one of her calves softly as you use your free hand to begin tugging at the lace of her sneaker. She raises an eyebrow at you in surprise for the sudden unexpected submissive movement, gaze darting over to Kathryn, who simply slips a hand into your hair affectionately.

Aubrey steps out of one sneaker then the other and you slowly push yourself to your feet to press one last peck to her lips.

"What're we cooking?" You ask, turning to Kathryn innocently.

Her eyes gleam briefly, like she's wordlessly acknowledging the teasing, then her expression turns neutral again as she eyes the wine bottle in her hands.

"Kitchen's pretty stocked, world's our oyster." She turns to head toward the kitchen and letting you both follow for a few steps before saying over her shoulder, "[Y/N] has something to ask you."

You freeze and Aubrey walks into you before grabbing your hip and arm to steady you both.

"What?" There was no way she expected you to broach that conversation alone, did she?

Kathryn rounds the corner into the kitchen and you scramble after her. As she sets down the wine on the island she makes a tickling gesture at you before tapping her index, middle and thumb fingers together. You stare in confusion for a beat, then remember. The claws.

Laughing once, you immediately blush and shake your head. The horny-blindness from earlier had made you braver than you felt currently, even if it was still lingering in the back of your mind.

"No, yeah- I wasn't... I wasn't that serious. It's ok."

You turn in time to watch Aubrey catch Kathryn's eye, amusement and curiosity twisting her features as she turns her attention to you.

"Tell me," she says, voice light but determined. The simple but direct tone makes you blush even more than you already were.

You shake your head again, then laugh nervously and back away quickly when she moves even slightly, though you realize in the same moment she was just adjusting her stance, not stepping towards you.

"No! It wasn't anything, really."

Kathryn swiftly steps around the island and you squeal, sidestepping out of her reach and defensively bringing your hands up to torso-level, arms tucked firmly at your sides.

She smirks at your panic and pulls open the island drawer, pulling out a corkscrew wordlessly.

"Well now it really seems like something," Aubrey says, inching closer and uncrossing her arms.

"No!" Your arms tighten further and you put your hands in her direction, instead. "I just..."

She pauses. Kathryn uncorks the wine and the clattering sound of the corkscrew being set on the counter startles you a little.

"You just...?"

"I wanted to know if you'd... kept anything. From Rio. Like, from set."

"Or wardrobe," Kathryn supplies helpfully. You go to shoot her a look but she ducks down to dig something out of the island cupboard.

Aubrey furrows her brow in confusion and cocks her head to the side.

"Like?"

You lift your gaze over her shoulder to stare at the wall instead like you're really trying to come up with an example, like you hadn't thought about the specifics before, then shrug.

"I don't know. Costume stuff. Did you?"

Kathryn sets a large serving plate down and you jump at the sound of porcelain on the granite counter, your skittishness giving away how fake your casual demeanor is.

Aubrey's confusion morphs into teasing.

"You want me to dress up for you?" She asks, reaching out to take your shielding hands and holding them in her own innocently. Her thumbs brush over your knuckles and she drops her gaze to them, voice softening. "Hm?"

"She wants you to wear the claws," Kathryn outs you, pulling the fridge open. You squawk in protest.

Aubrey's confused look returns for a flickering second, as if she forgot all about your particular interest, and then the clarification washes over her visibly.

"Ah," she nods in understanding, squeezing your hands once before letting one go to focus on the other. She holds your wrist and lifts one, turning it over palm-up and then lightly runs the tips of her fingers down the full length of your middle finger to the inside of your wrist. "I might have a set lying around. I could take a look."

You squirm at the sensation when she repeats the gesture the opposite way, gently pulling your hand away and scratching your palm feverishly with your other hand. She smirks and presses a kiss to your forehead in passing, retrieving a knife from the drawer and joining Kathryn at the counter with it.

You pour three glasses of wine while the two of them arrange a grazing plate, and then the three of you lean around the island once a pasta dish is decided on and the water is set to boil on the stove.

"There was something else we wanted to ask about," You say, after several minutes of quiet snacking.

Kathryn sets her wine aside and stands up straighter, bringing a small smile to your face. The half glass of your own wine paired with the comfort of being near them both spurs you on.

"[Y/N] and I are planning to..." Kathryn squints for a moment. "Hard launch. Is that what they call it?"

You snort before you can help it and she tosses a cube of cheese at you. It bounces harmlessly off your chest and you snatch it up from the counter.

"I just mean, we were going to stop keeping things so close to the chest."

You bite the cube in half, your free hand absentmindedly sliding over the counter and brushing over the back of Aubrey's hand.

"What, like, dating? In public?" She clarifies.

"Yeah," you agree. "Not really a huge change to what's going on now, just... letting people notice if they notice."

Aubrey's quiet for a beat.

"You don't... have to do the same," Kathryn adds on. "That's between the two of you, I just- we just didn't want you to be left out of this."

"I would rather be open with you, too," you tell her honestly. "But if you wanted to wait, I totally-"

"I don't mind being out in the open," Aubrey cuts you off. She flips her hand over and squeezes yours reassuringly, "But... it might bring on questions. Which you don't have to answer, mind you, but they're still going to ask."

You shrug.

"I know. I'm seriously not bothered by it."

You know that they both clearly don't think you've considered the consequences but you know you have. Really, it's almost comical the level of concern when you know full-well that you're currently wrapped up in a total dream scenario that you still sometimes find yourself worried you'll wake up from.

"Well that leaves you and I."

Aubrey turns her attention to Kathryn and you flick your gaze between them curiously. The latter exhales slowly, heavily.

"Yeah."

"What did CJ think?"

"She thinks it'll be a circus," Kathryn says. You're a little shocked by the honesty in her tone and realize there's an entire side to this idea that you'd really never thought much about. "But unavoidable. It's why we should... start with this."

She gestures between the two of you and then herself and you. You squirm uncomfortably.

"You guys just aren't going to say anything?" You ask.

"Not yet," Kathryn replies. "Not more than we have."

You tilt your head and frown.

"But... what if people get the wrong idea?"

"That's nothing new," Aubrey tells you, squeezing your hand again. "And if it's something that needs correcting, we'll correct it. Does that sound okay to you?"

With both their eyes on you, you feel a surprising sense of calm wash over you. They'd been serious about making sure you were comfortable and prepared, and the ease and experience they're approaching this with makes you feel entirely relaxed. Regardless of any pushback, you'll have each other.

"Okay. Okay, yeah. I'm ready."

"Okay," Kathryn announces, picking up her glass. "Count of three. Ready? 1. 2.... 3. Boom. Decidedly not a secret anymore. You feel any different?"

You giggle at the playful but reassuring gesture, and shake your head.

"No," you say, sipping your own wine. "I feel good."

-

Two bowls of pasta and one obnoxiously long session of brushing your teeth later (no one wants someone who just scarfed chilli flakes going down on them, after all), you return to the bedroom to find both other women in a state of halfway undress, tangled together at the head of the bed.

You pause to admire them for a moment, wordless in the doorway as they kiss slowly, peeling at each other's clothes lazily like they have all the time in the world.

Aubrey lifts her arms to allow her top to be pulled up over her head, almost collapsing forward when Kathryn immediately dips her head to wrap her lips around one bared nipple, then eases her onto her back. She sits up and pulls off her own top, landing impatiently on top of the other woman again to kiss her once more, only stopping when your feet pull you forward on your own accord and your knees bump against the side of the bed.

"Well don't stop on my account," you insist, when they both look up at you.

Aubrey grabs your hand and pulls you insistently onto the bed with them but has her tongue in Kathryn's mouth again before you even manage to make it all the way up.

You climb up her calves and worm an arm between the two of them to work at the button of Aubrey's jeans. Kathryn takes the hint and slides off of her enough to give you room, helping you ease them down over her hips and giving you a chance to kick off your own pants impatiently.

Collapsing back on their tangled legs, you press a quick kiss to the side of Aubrey's knee and then work your way up to her hip messily.

"Would you come here?" she practically growls, even though she grins when you finally look up at her. She tugs you closer and then forces you down between the two of them once you're close enough to do so.

You start giggling once four separate hands start worming up under the hem of your shirt, wriggling to try to get it up over your head as quickly as possible to hurry the process along with as little accidental torture as possible.

Turning to Kathryn as soon as you're free of it, you tug at her pants as Aubrey deftly unclasps your bra for you, growing irritated after a beat and forcing your hand down the front of them instead with enough aggression to draw a startled laugh out of her.

"At least let me- get them offfff-" She gasps sharply, words stuttering and trailing off when you flick your finger over her clit.

She kisses you, hard enough that you're forced to still your hand to focus, and she takes your distraction as her chance to yank your wrist out of her pants and wriggle back to get off of the edge of the bed.

She shoots you a look, half stern and half playful, and as you watch her inch her pants and underwear down, Aubrey slides your bra straps down your arms and tosses it aside. She cups both of your breasts and then softly flicks both nipples at the same time; you lock eyes with Kathryn as you gasp, and watch her gaze darken as she reapproaches the bed.

"What did you do to her?" Aubrey asks, amused.

"Oh please," Kathryn huffs, grabbing your knee softly and tugging your legs open and then slipping between them. "You know what she's like."

You shiver at the words, but growl and knock your knee against her shoulder in retaliation anyway. You don't get to see or hear her response because Aubrey takes the opportunity to kiss you, once, twice, then mouthing down your neck.

"Poor thing."

You whine helplessly.

Kathryn scoffs, pinning your legs open when they instinctively move to clutch closed around her.

"Mm, she'll live," she says, kissing your lower belly softly and then tickling wickedly at your hips as she grips the sides of your underwear.

The laugh you let out is breathless, feeling a full body tingle take over all of your senses for a moment before you grab onto both of them; one arm around Aubrey tightly and the other hand burying warningly into Kathryn's hair.

"Maybe," Aubrey replies, before her lips attach to your neck again.

"Mm-mm." You shake your head, twisting to dislodge Kathryn before she can get your underwear off. You know this has been the whole day coming and you're going to be out for the count once you're done. "C'mere. Please."

Both of them box you in again, hands slowing, and you take a few calming breaths before sitting up completely.

"I think I owe you, from earlier," you tell Kathryn, not giving Aubrey any further explanation as you slip your knee over her thighs and scoot back a little. Aubrey closes your vacant space and tilts her chin to kiss her, blindly reaching down her stomach. You catch her fingers gently and help guide her hand between the other woman's slightly parted legs and bite down hard on your own smile when a gasp rips through the soft sound of them kissing.

You spread your own legs when Kathryn's legs shake a little, giving her room to open her own a bit further and watch Aubrey's fingers vanish inside of her, your own hand slipping between your legs as you watch them.

Gnawing your own lip as you watch, you circle a slow finger around your clit and when Aubrey slows her own touching, you grab her wrist carefully and sternly push her fingers back inside of Kathryn.

"Look who's suddenly calling the shots," she teases, pretending to ignore the way Kathryn arches up off the bed, half gasping and half laughing in shock.

Her sudden movement pushes her thigh against the back of your hand and you groan at the increase in pressure, slipping a single finger inside yourself and then grinding down on your hand and her thigh at once.

It's quiet save for the combined sounds of your breathing and gasping, the other two women's kisses growing slightly more aggressive as the pressure builds. It only takes a few minutes before Kathryn has to break away to moan, breathing suddenly more labored, and the sound makes a jolt of pleasure erupt between your own legs, spurring you on and making you pick up your speed of your own fingers.

Remembering yourself, you pull your hand free and slide down to settle between her legs instead of on top of them, and let them fall open around you. You lick softly up Aubrey's upturned palm to the base of her fingers where they're buried to the hilt inside the other woman and giggle when she cries out at the first swipe of your tongue over her clit. Your giggle turns into a moan of your own pleasure at the taste of her and you vibrate the sound directly onto her clit as you seal your lips around it, kissing and sucking hungrily.

Kathryn gasps, swears, buries her hand roughly in your hair; Aubrey's palm bumps clumsily against your chin as she continues pumping her fingers.

Pressing a hand softly against her mound and pulling upward to expose her a little further, you moan again when she pulls hard enough on your hair to sting.

"Fuck! Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck-"

Her repetition picks up speed, her desperation turning her voice high pitched and whiny and downright pornographic in a way you had never heard from her before. You feel the shift of Aubrey lifting her torso enough to get her other arm under Kathryn's thigh, forcing her legs open a little further and the stretch seems to do it, knocking her clean over the edge with a near-scream.

She pulls your face harder to herself, hips grinding; you meet every movement with your own fervor, humming into her and kissing and sucking until she's literally laughing in disbelief and loosening her grip.

You don't pull away when she finally comes down, instead pressing another kiss, another lick, grinning at the sounds she makes when Aubrey pulls her fingers out and you lave your tongue once across her entire slit.

She lets you continue for another moment before the sensitivity seems to overwhelm her enough to wriggle away a bit. Your hands wrap greedily around the backs of her thighs, about to keep her still, when you feel Aubrey's fingers dance up your sides softly and probe warningly into your armpits. You're reflexively forced to let go of her legs a little to bring your arms down, whining in protest at being cut off as she firms her touch even more and clutches you, pulling you away from Kathryn entirely.

"What's gotten into you today, huh?" she asks, flipping you over once you're pulled back by a foot and chuckling as you stare up at her breathlessly from your spot between your other girlfriend's knees.

Instead of answering, you pull her down to you insistently and kiss her when her torso crashes into you, vaguely aware of Kathryn sitting up, legs sliding away from you both.

You giggle helplessly as you break the kiss when she squeezes both of your underarms gently, warningly, and tense up when she doesn't stop immediately.

"No!" You manage, truly not meaning it but being immediately overwhelmed with her entire weight pinning you in such a position.

She just grins, kissing you again and waiting until you're properly lost in it once more to tickle again, swallowing your laughter with a tiny amused chuckle of her own between kisses.

You're just vaguely aware of Kathryn slipping behind her and easing her up onto her knees. Her hands leave their post at your underarms as she pushes up onto all fours and steadies herself, and you immediately dip down to capture one hard nipple between your lips just as Kathryn thrusts into her.

The stuttering moan at both sensations rips out of her throat louder than you had anticipated and you savour the sound as you squeeze her nipple painlessly between your teeth before flicking your tongue against the very tip. Her entire breast presses against your face when she loses her balance briefly from the combined ministrations and you reach up to catch her softly by the waist and steady her.

You can't make out what Kathryn is saying to her, ears buzzing and only taking in the sounds of the woman on top of you moaning, but her tone is low and reassuring and you feel your own body warm just from the overall sound. You unlatch from her nipple and just as you're about to give the other the same care you feel a sharp scrape from two fingers down the middle of one of your feet and let out a squeal instead.

Trying to capture the other nipple between your own giggling and Aubrey's bouncing movement against the other woman's hand, you close your eyes and force yourself to focus, one hand leaving Aubrey's waist to grasp her breast and force her nipple back into your waiting mouth. The combined roughness and sudden flicking tickling stimulation to her nipple makes her cry out again and you let your hand still on her waist squeeze and rub at her hip reassuringly.

"Fuck you taste good," you murmur, just loud enough for her to hear as you frantically and messily kiss one breast and then switch back to the other once more, digging your nails roughly into the skin of her hip.

Her arms shake and you release her from your mouth to let her fall to you, bracing on her forearms with her back arched and ass up. The sudden new angle forces Kathryn in deeper and Aubrey lets out a sob-like sound into your hair, her moans turning into whines, staccatoed by every pump of her girlfriend's fingers into her. The rhythmic 'ah, ah, ah~' turns higher and higher until no sound comes out of her at all and she clutches you tightly, her breath hot and frantic in your ear as she almost silently orgasms.

Kathryn pushes her through it, rhythm staying the same until you feel the arch of Aubrey's back lessen, and the rest of her muscles relax a little as they follow the lead. Kathryn pulls away and you lurch forward, almost throwing Aubrey off of you in your attempt to grab Kathryn by the arm. She gets the hint, though, coming a bit closer and offering you her fingers with a dazed curiosity. You suck her digits into your mouth immediately, moaning softly as you flick your tongue between them and lap up every last hint of your other girlfriend's climax from her skin.

Aubrey nuzzles against your neck and bites at your jaw as you let Kathryn's fingers finally go, arm slipping over you as she wraps her legs around your thigh and you feel her wetness press coolly against your bare skin.

Catching your own breath, you sigh happily as Kathryn boxes you in once again on your other side and wraps her arm around you as well, stroking your waist softly as all three of you catch your breath.

"Gimme a minute," you sigh, genuinely content to be snuggled between them for a moment.

Aubrey chuckles breathlessly and squeezes your side gently.

"Tell us what you want, baby."

You close your eyes and savor that for a moment, then turn your head to her in amusement.

"I've been so on edge all day I think a slight breeze will do it," you reply. Her expression turns playful and she dips her head, lapping her tongue over your nipple once and then blowing coolly across it. You gasp loudly, head falling back and a disbelieving giggle escaping you.

"Hm. Guess not," she teases, capturing your nipple once more, Kathryn doing the same on your other side just as her hand slips further down your torso and then between your legs.

You squirm at the initial contact, moaning softly and spreading your legs a little further. She cups you softly and then circles her index finger teasingly around your clit until you buck yourself up into her, then withdraws with a small laugh as she lets your nipple go.

Aubrey's hand joins her a second later, tracing a similar circle before withdrawing and you let out a growl of frustration as you twist your hips to try to follow her hand.

"Mm, I don't think she's ready," she comments casually, her other hand sweeping your hair back from your face as you turn to give her an indignant look. She smirks at you before flicking her eyes to Kathryn instead.

"No?" She asks curiously, tracing a sweeping, ticklish pattern up your groin and away from your cunt.

"I don't want to be inconsiderate," Aubrey says, twirling your hair softly. "You know she usually likes it better if we tickle her first."

Your entire body tenses in anticipation and then a nervous yelp slips out of you when Kathryn digs into your hip, right in the tender spot under the bone.

"Ah, of course," she agrees, pinching and squeezing at that spot as you writhe to try to escape, trapped between the two of them.

Both of them tickling you at once is a mean, rarely deployed tactic given your circumstances, and even when Aubrey's long fingers dance up your ribs on Kathryn's side, arm draped over you, you dissolve into squealing easily.

Neither of them are being especially cruel but the unpredictability of sensation when it's coming from two different minds makes you feel even more out of control than usual.

"Oh my god~" You giggle, twisting toward Kathryn to try to pin both of their hands under yourself and still them.

Aubrey's hand slips back and presses flat to your stomach, pushing you onto your back again. As Kathryn stops, too, Aubrey lifts her hand and swirls one finger in a featherlight circle around your navel, grinning when you let out a nervous, groaning laugh at the feeling. She knows better than to linger, though, sliding her hand down between your thighs and flicking the very tip of her middle finger across your clit again.

You find that you're even wetter than you were a few moments earlier.

Humming quietly, Aubrey presses softly with the heel of her hand just above your clit and pulls upward. You feel the slight stretch travel all the way down your slit and moan in approval before she readjusts and teases your now-exposed clit with her index finger again.

You jolt upward in surprise, belly tensing up as your shoulders lift from the bed slightly but she stills until you relax again.

"Is that so sensitive, baby?"

God that teasing tone is going to be the death of you. You moan at her words alone, the sound of it growing exponentially louder when she touches you again. It's truly too much; you can't believe how sensitive you are.

She takes the wordless feedback in stride and rolls her finger in a little circle around the surrounding area, nudging your clit softly through the hood as she teases each side of it, catching every nerve surrounding it with a soft stroke or flick until the extremity of the sensation falls away to pleasure and then that too softens into a combined sensation you hadn't been anticipating at all.

"Uh oh~" She murmurs; you hadn't even realized you'd started giggling, too lost in a haze of overwhelming touch.

Kathryn chuckles darkly and softly takes your hand of the arm closest to her, pulling it over herself to keep it out of the way. You grip at her ass without even meaning to when Aubrey adjusts her hand again and the stretch in your cunt grows a little stronger.

"Are you going to be able to cum from this?" Aubrey's question snaps you out of it for a moment.

The teasing has only lessened slightly in her tone and when you meet her eye you see her watching you seriously. The realization hits you: she's not mocking you, she's genuinely asking if you're going to be able to handle it.

You nod desperately and try to shift your hips; the action forces her to stroke at the slick, soft skin tucked just against the right side of your clit hood, and a startled giggle escapes you at how unbelievably ticklish it is. She presses slightly and you groan; she holds you still like that for a moment to let you calm down, before tutting softly.

"Be still," she warns, starting her slow, torturous circling again.

She shushes you each time your hips jerk involuntarily, teasing for a few more seconds before pressing her thumb and ring finger into the crease on either side of your clit and stretching open. It pulls all the way down to your opening and you moan loudly, almost sobbing when she focuses on flicking right at your clit again with just her middle finger in a rapid beckoning gesture.

"That doesn't tickle, does it? That's so much better, huh?" She mumbles. You squeeze your eyes shut to avoid having them roll back in your head.

"Fuck, fuck, please-"

Your grip on Kathryn's ass and thigh keeps faltering, her skin becoming slick with sweat, worked up just watching you come completely undone between them. She had been softly rubbing your knee and thigh a moment ago but when your hips buck up again her touch tightens into a restraint, holding your legs down and open.

The sudden jerk of your hips pulls at the stretch even more and you let out a high, broken sound.

"Okay, okay, shh…" Her finger slows and resumes circling.

You feel like you're on the razors edge of your orgasm - normally clitoral stimulation would be enough but that stretch holding you open is making you feel like you're almost being fucked, and its such a tease that you're one moment away from begging her to fill you up until you tear in half.

Your breath comes out in shuddering pants before your giggles return, breathy and whiny and too turned on to function.

"Ooh, listen to that," she taunts. "That must tickle soooo bad, huh? But you're being so good."

Your brain goes completely fuzzy; she strokes repetitively at a tiny spot to the left of your clit that sends you into giggles strong enough to almost overpower your moaning.

"Soooo ticklish right here, huh?"

You're pretty sure you're babbling but a loud ringing fills your ears and you can barely focus on anything except her voice and the otherworldly orgasmic ticklishness radiating out from between your legs.

Her words make you clench and it immediately makes your hole ache deliciously, your laugh trailing off into a desperate cry.

"Aha~AH!!"

Aubrey continues as if it's nothing, as if it's her sole mission to make you black out.

"What about here, you ticklish here too?"

Her middle finger drops down and strokes, light as a fucking feather, right against your already-stretched opening and you sob.

Every upward touch from the very tip of her finger draws a new yelling ("AH! AH!") moan out of you. You thrash away from the sensation as best you can every muscle in your body pulling at once, but they manage to keep you between them.

You only escape the touch for a split second and her free hand lands on your clenched up belly, scattering soft, scrunching tickles all over your lower abdominals.

"Ah ah, take it."

You're vaguely cognizant enough to be a bit proud of yourself for not immediately screaming for her to stop, but its nothing compared to the torrent of sensation you'd just experienced. You gurgle some weak excuse for laughter, writhing weakly in your spot and breaking down into a full-on sob when, with no regard for the permanent brain damage she's probably giving you, she returns to tickling around your clenching, stretched opening like its nothing.

She stills her hand against your tummy when you stop squirming and submit to the sensation entirely, kissing your damp cheek and then speeding up her single finger tormenting your cunt.

Your orgasm rips through you just as Kathryn leans in and kisses your cheek, the corner of your mouth, capturing your lips with hers to muffle the scream you let out.

Aubrey holds you at the peak with relentless overstimulation until you've cum so much that your own wetness is impeding her ability to torture any longer. She slips her fingers inside of you softly and you moan weakly at the intrusion, panting for air as Kathryn sweeps your wet hair back from your face.

"Such a good girl, you did so good," she mumbles, smoothing your hair and kissing your forehead. She pulls back as you wince at Aubrey's fingers brushing your G-spot, legs jolting involuntarily.

"You okay?" She asks, sitting up for a better angle and then adjusting her fingers to softly massage your walls; its still a little stimulating but not nearly enough to make you cum again after how intense the sensations just before had been.

You nod weakly, pushing her wrist a little petulantly, even as her careful internal massage makes you coo and sigh happily as the ache of the stretching she'd done dissipates.

She ignores your pathetic attempt to push her away, rubbing soothingly until you unclench entirely before she pulls her fingers out, the last of your cum splurting lazily out of you and down your ass crack as your muscles let go of it.

"I'll be right back," she promises, and you realize you'd whined without meaning to when she moved to get up.

Letting her go, you turn to Kathryn needily and shiver as the adrenaline wears off and your sweat cools unpleasantly.

She wraps one arm around you immediately and holds you back just enough to see your face, wiping at your half-dried tears softly.

"You okay?" She checks again.

You smile shyly, a small laugh escaping as everything comes flooding back to you. Hiding your laugh in her chest you giggle even more when she jostles you playfully.

"That was incredible," you admit.

"Mm, you're gonna have to do it again so she can show me all those spots," she mumbles into your hair, exhaling a small laugh when you stiffen as if it were a threat.

The bed dips slightly and you lift your head to see Aubrey crawl up the foot of it to you. Kathryn excuses herself to the bathroom as you roll onto your back.

"Feel okay, baby?" She asks softly, and you chuckle to yourself at the now third reassurance between the two of them.

"I'm good," you promise.

"Nothing sore?"

You stretch a little, rolling your neck and taking inventory of yourself.

"No. Probably hate myself in the morning, though."

Aubrey pushes your legs open to press the warm, wet cloth in her hand between them and you gasp, twitching to close your thighs defensively. Ignoring your protest, she lifts one leg slightly to wedge the cloth into your ass crack just slightly, mopping up the rogue cum coating you, and grinning when you squeal in surprise.

"Is your butt ticklish?" She doesn't wait for an answer, scribbling her fingers around one cheek as you yelp and bounce up from the bed in surprise.

"Yes! Don't!" You fall back into giggles when she resorts to pinching and squeezing, tickling her way to the back of your thigh before stopping.

"Okay, okay," she chuckles, rubbing your thigh firmly before lowering your leg and returning the cloth to you. Even that groping, rubbing sensation of the fibers of the cloth on your pussy start up your laughter again, first just a few giggles and squirms, then full on squealing laughter when she pins your legs open to continue.

You're breathless when she finishes just as Kathryn returns.

"Torturing her again?"

"Unintentionally, this time," she replies, though you know damn well she kept up her 'cleaning' a little longer than necessary - not that you complained even once.

Warmth washes over you as the endorphins set in and you roll over onto your stomach, cuddling up to the pillows tiredly. A soft moan of approval escapes you when you feel one hand, then another, slide up your back and tickle softly up and down your spine and between your shoulders.

You'd intended to stay up a little - it'll be an early morning and then you won't see Kathryn until she's back from New York and you want to savor it - but their combined ministrations paired with the life-altering orgasm you'd just had knock you out in record time.

-

The following afternoon finds both you and Aubrey dragging your feet - coming up with excuses to stick around, raiding some stuff out of Kathryn's fridge that might go bad while she's gone, insisting on helping her pack and spending far too long deciding on outfits. It's obvious from the way you're both stalling that neither of you is particularly looking forward to her being gone.

At least Aubrey will be busy during the days - schedule filled with all sorts of work obligations and preparation for a new project - while you'll be stuck trying to self-discipline and catching up on schoolwork without a set schedule, only the looming threat of deadlines and academic probation.

After she drops you off that afternoon, it's radio silence for two entire days, in which you barely finish a project and start going over a couple of study guides for the upcoming block of quizzes.

By the end of the second day when Aubrey finally gets back to you, you invite her over without hesitation and wipe the quiz for the afternoon off of your google calendar. You'll make it up later - for now, you desperately need your girlfriend and a break.

She texts you to tell you that she's made dinner reservations, playfully asking if you've been too focused on studying to remember to eat, and then lets you know she's on her way over. You don't even bother with the obvious joke about what you'll be eating when she gets there, and pace your apartment for the full amount of time it takes her to arrive.

She's glowing when she arrives - slightly tanned from being outside for days, the sort of thrumming energy about her that comes from the high of a consistent work schedule - and you don't even make it out of the living room without getting her out of her pants.

"I have a surprise for you, but I guess it can wait," she tells you as you corner her on the couch and climb into her lap to kiss her.

"What is it?" You ask, pulling back breathlessly and sliding your hands under her shirt.

"You'll find out after," she replies, laughing out loud when you dig your fingers into her ribs and tickle warningly. "No! You- hahahave to be patient."

You tickle once more then give her a break, slipping your hands a bit higher to cup at her breasts instead. Her nipples immediately pebble in your palms and you grin smugly as you kiss her again.

"I guess this means you don't want to tell me how the test went, today?" She asks as you unlatch from her to slide off of the couch and kneel between her legs.

"Rescheduled it," you tell her, adding on the lie of: "Internet is still acting up."

She hums thoughtfully but doesn't have time to question it further when you tug her panties down and dive into her face-first.

-

After the shake has finally left her legs and she's regained her breath, Aubrey directs you to the bedroom and drops her bag to the floor at the foot of the bed.

Fishing around inside it for a moment she tugs out three, long silk ties, and as you lay back, about to ask her if they were repurposed from something else or specifically meant to be used for this purpose, she cuts you off and twirls a finger at you.

"Ah ah. On your front. Naked, please."

You raise your eyebrows curiously and sit up, pulling off your top and reaching behind yourself to undo the clasp of your bra.

"Is this the surprise?" You ask, grinning when she drops the ties to the bed and dips down to dig into the bag once more.

"Almost," she says sweetly, abandoning the bag and coming up to the end of the bed as you lay back to undo the button of your jeans.

You're barely shimmying them down over your hips when she 'helps out', tickling one of your feet and then grasping your ankle when you move to kick it away. She tickles for a second longer as you laugh and squirm, then peels your sock off, tossing it aside.

She reaches for the other foot and you start giggling before she even begins tickling, a fresh shriek being drawn out when she targets your toes, this time, scratching at them through the sheer material of your sock before gripping it by the toes and pulling it off as well, tossing it aside with its mate.

Free from the playful attack, you worm your pants and underwear off quickly and kick them aside, before remembering her other instruction and rolling quickly over onto your stomach.

"I was thinking," she says conversationally, climbing onto your back and straddling you. "About how much we're both missing her."

You nod a little, curious about where this is going. She eases your arms up and holds your wrists together near your headboard, and begins wrapping one of the ties around them.

"She misses us too," she says. Your wrists cinch together and she begins tying the sash to the slatted board.

"Mhm?"

Once the knot is secure, her weight lifts off of you and she shuffles off the bed, rounding it to the end where your feet flex and unflex.

"So, if you feel safe," You feel her breath against your left foot and then she kisses your ankle before wrapping a sash around it. "And it sounds fun to you," The sash tightens, "I thought we could… include her."

She ties the sash to the left side of the footboard and you feel the gentle stretch in your thigh.

"Only if you want," she adds on. She kisses the other ankle and you wait quietly as she secures it to the opposite end of the footboard, leaving your lower half spread open for her.

"How so?" You finally ask, as she makes her way onto the bed again and straddles your lower back.

She shifts around, and then you see your peripherals her bringing her phone down toward you. Turning your head you see the audio recording screen at the ready, waiting to be turned on. Heat immediately flares up in your lower belly and you shift a bit to try to catch her eye.

"Yeah. Yeah, I want to."

She chuckles and leans down to kiss your cheek, setting the phone down softly on the bed.

"Well then we can basically consider it research notes for an experiment," she says. "The other part of your surprise."

She strokes your opposite bicep and you yelp in surprise. The touch is unexpected, sure, but more than that, the sensation was brand new. You whip your head around to that side just as her touch strokes further down and finds your armpit and you jolt, a bark of nervous laughter escaping you.

"What - what is that?" You manage when she relents. She laughs quietly and reaches for the phone, tapping the 'start recording' button.

"Told you'd I'd look," she says, stroking back away from your armpit to your bicep again. Something sharp but not painful delivers a striking, unbearably ticklish sensation to an otherwise manageably ticklish spot. You crane your head and she furthers the touch to your elbow, and then forearm, and only then do you make out the silvery and black tips on her thumb, index, and middle finger.

"Oh my god," you breathe, arousal flaring up again.

"Mhm," she replies playfully, settling her weight more firmly on you as she stops. "Think you can take it? Not changing your mind?"

You shake your head adamantly, then squirm, bucking her slightly.

"Don't tease."

"Well," she announces, climbing off of you altogether. "Its on official record, she wants it. Practically begging for it, really."

She scrapes the claws all the way down your side from armpit to hip and even manages to get them slightly under you to tease the side of your lower belly for a short few torturous seconds.

You shriek and giggle and pull uselessly at your hands and feet but your spread out position uniquely dampens almost any effective twisting and turning. Rounding the bed once more and settling in behind it, you hear the clink of the claws - maybe switching hands - and close your eyes to savor the last few seconds of your sanity.

Two of the metal claws slide down your sole from heel to ball, then scratch circles there. The sound you let out is halfway between a moan and a hum, back arching and hips lifting as much as your bonds allow. The difference in sensation between the claws on your right foot and her two bare fingers on the left foot begins to blur together.

"I probably don't need to tell you I'm tickling her feet, now," Aubrey addresses the phone and you almost drown out the end of her sentence with nearly pained, needy giggling.

She makes a few more exploratory passes and then settles in and focuses on the balls of your feet, bringing her thumbs into play just below the stem of your big toes. The concentrated effort turns your giggling husky with pleasure, and you can feel your orgasm building alarmingly quickly. As if she can sense it, she spreads her touch once more, pulling sharp, bright staccatos of laughter out of you when she scrapes your arches and instep all at once; they're not necessarily more ticklish but without the heady erogenousness it's easier to focus more clearly on the tickling sensation. As pressing as your arousal was a moment ago, you're a little relieved for the distraction, dropping your head forward helplessly. This might be heaven.

"What do we think?" Aubrey addresses you instead of the phone, now, and you can barely find the strength to lift your head away from the pillow to respond.

"So good," you insist dreamily, yelping in shock when she suddenly swaps hands, the primed and unsuspecting sole of your left foot suddenly being given a chance to experience the claws.

Your laughter surges upward in pitch and volume, ankles straining against the soft ties they're tangled in. The thumb ring claw teases your outstep and is so dizzyingly ticklish you can barely suppress a scream. Tremors are sent up your left leg and set it off shaking involuntarily each time the claw at your outstep threatens to curl over onto the top of your foot.

"How about now?" she asks, her voice calculated but neutral as if she's asking basic intake questions at a doctor's office.

She runs the tips of her fingernails back down to the ball of your right foot, stroking there in a tight waterfall pattern while the metal claws continue their duo mission of covering as much ground as possible on the arch of your left. It's impressive, really, how perfectly she keeps the two separate patterns in their respective rhythms. If she'd stutter or slip up it might make it easier to block one or the other out but it's impossible like this.

You try to nod in response to her question, and it seems like her speed picks up ever so slightly.

"[Y/N]."

You lift your head a bit in gesture that you're listening.

"Still good?"

You nod again, she picks up a little more speed. You rut against the mattress shamelessly before realizing she's looking for a verbal confirmation; something on the record.

"Feels good," you say, voice coming out wrecked and hungry, audible even through your constant giggling.

"Good?"

"Soooo good," you confirm on a moan, letting it pitch upwards almost a bit theatrically, though nothing about the performance is truly ingenuine.

You can be quiet, sometimes - certainly not in response to being tickled half to death, though - but being a little louder, a little more vocal, especially when it feels this good, is never off the table.

You roll your hips against the mattress excitedly again and find your tempo, biting down hard on your lip and trying to focus on the building sensation of her fingertips stroking the ball of your foot, the stems of your toes...

She switches hands again and you drop your face into the pillow just in time to muffle your scream in reaction.

Everything tickles tenfold again. Your feet yank restlessly at their bonds out of reflex and you lift your head with a shriek as her remaining fingers on the clawed hand join in. The contrast between her fingers and the sharp metal both on one foot takes all of your focus away from

the other for a moment.

You whine and laugh all at once, like you're desperately trying to communicate to her that her efforts are both not enough and still deeply appreciated. You hear her shift, feel the mattress dip, her hands never leaving your feet, and then she speaks again.

"Hips up."

You wonder if she's trying to chastise you for trying to rub against the bed, but you arch your back anyway to lift yourself a little. The space between your legs dips a bit as something is pressed between them, and you're already lowering yourself again to meet whatever it is when she says:

"Down."

You moan in approval as you're met with solid softness; the top of her foot presses deliciously against your clit and you shift your hips immediately to push the feeling further, grinding your pussy greedily against the lift of her ankle.

"Fuck, babe-"

The tickling increases and stifles the rest of your babbling with more giggles. Her foot flexes like she's trying to wiggle her toes but can't with your weight pinning her to the mattress, but it doesn't dampen the sensation of more muscle and tendon moving against you in tandem when your squirming.

"Please, please-" Your pitch is so high and desperate you barely recognize yourself and through the haze of everything you have the wherewithal to think it might be a little narcissistic to even be getting off on your own voice, on top of everything else. "Fuhuhuck, you're gonna make me cum-!"

You're hurtling dangerously toward the edge when the tickling slows to a stop, Aubrey's foot still planted beneath you. The moaning doesn't stop but you feel the orgasm putting distance between itself and you again. Aubrey shushes you soothingly as you stop moving your hips and close your eyes, heartbeat hammering wildly in your head.

"Slow down, easy," she murmurs, her foot slowly slipping out from under you. You can feel how slick it's become from you as it comes away, and then mattress shifts, alerting you a second before Aubrey's weight presses against your back again. The pressure, despite everything, is incredibly comforting and grounding, and you take a few deep breaths as the muscles you didn't realize you were clenching unwind.

She gathers your hair in her unclawed hand and pulls it aside for you, chuckling as she kisses your cheek.

"Doesn't have a foot thing, my ass."

You laugh breathlessly, defiantly tugging your head away to face the opposite direction.

"Fuck off."

You're rewarded with fingers digging into your opposite side ribs and armpit quickly; It's playful, and vicious, drawing shrieks out of you and carrying on just a beat longer than you expect to drive you into panicked laughter.

As your head whips back to attempt to give her a look of betrayal you watch her thumb off the claws from her other hand and stretch out to drop them softly to the windowsill at the head of the bed, her fingers under your arm only slowing but not fully stopping.

Once both hands are free once more she wordlessly swings her leg over your back, scooting down to be seated just above your ass and digs into both armpits at once.

"No!" You protest, and holy fuck you really can't move, between her knees bracketed near your ribs and the tight overhead tie.

"No?" She repeats, lurching forward a little when you manage to rock your hips hard enough to buck her slightly.

"I'm s-" You almost choke, laughing so hard you can barely breathe let alone speak. "Sorry! I'm-"

She stops immediately, reaching up and untangling your hand from the belt holding your wrists up - you hadn't even realized you'd grabbed it to start pulling. Still letting a few residual giggles out, you drop your forehead down to the pillow and pant for air.

She chuckles as well, one hand planted firmly on your shoulder as the other reaches for the claws again. You just your head when you feel her shift and see her pick them up, groaning quietly in defeat before dropping your head again with a small disbelieving laugh.

"D'you need a second?" she asks genuinely, fiddling with the claws from her spot on your back. You can't see her but one hand - claw free - returns to your back and rubs slowly but firmly down your spine reassuringly.

You nod, then change your mind and shake your head.

"Just... start gentle," you request.

"Okay, baby." She kisses the crown of your head and slides off of you altogether.

The bed dips slightly under your combined weight when she settles in beside you on your left, stretched out on her side. It causes your hip to tilt toward her a little, your right hip lifting a little from the surface but the ties keep you rather firmly in place, removing any possible strain.

A moment later, you feel one of the claws slide slowly up the right side of your back and you gasp softly. From base to shoulder she traces up, then back down, silent as you twitch and squirm at each exceptionally sensitive spot she passes over. You try not to jerk or roll your shoulders too much in reflex; the claw can't do any damage by poking into you firmly but it does halt the tickling sensation every time, sending little trills of disappointment through you.

Seemingly pleased with specific reactions, she focuses on looping circles around your shoulder, pulling closer to the center of your back to touch the spot between and then working down to the backs of your ribs, the movements becoming swifter and more teasing until you're fully but quietly giggling. She slows and shifts, propping herself up on one hand before continuing with a more concentrated effort at your lower back.

It still tickles, those claws pack a very unexpected punch, but only enough to keep you twitching and giggling — until she slips further down, over the cleft of your ass and you let out a silly, shocked whine of surprise.

She retraces her steps without missing a beat even though you've already begun to protest; a nervous, but playful warning plea of, "Honey..."

She chuckles softly, the three claws being joined by all of her remaining fingers as she splays her hand. You laugh, startled, feeling your entire lower half clench, and it inspires her to reverse the action, pinching her fingertips back inward and making you gasp softly as the realization seeps in for you.

"Found a new spot~" She sing-songs. You see the sound recording volume spike slightly in the corner of your eye.

Her hand jumps to the other cheek and the clawed fingers suddenly dip ever-so-slightly into the spot between them from their new angle. You squeal, trying to arch your back, and suddenly feel hot all over as if you'd suddenly broken into a serious sweat.

"Oh my god," Is the last thing you manage to get out before giggling.

Her fingers keep exploring, dipping teasingly close to that space between again and only stopping when you twist your hips away ever so slightly. She takes your wordless cue to note the invisible boundary line you've set and swoops from the claws down further, swiping harrowingly close to your crotch before moving outward along the curve of your cheek again.

If you thought you were turned on before you're absolutely aching, now. You make a mental note through the explosion of arousal flooding your entire body to come back to this exploration when you're better prepared, and take it further.

Her hand suddenly pulls away and you whine loudly in desperate protest, head lifting and trying to turn to look back at her fruitlessly.

"Shhh," she soothes, shifting to settle between your spread legs, claws clicking softly as she fiddles with them. She leans over you again, one hand steadyingly firm against your back, and sets a single one of the set of three on the window sill.

You barely make note of the remaining two on each of her thumbs before she settles back again and continues.

This time, her clawed thumbs scratch above your adductors again, so high up that they curl in to where the crack of your ass begins opening at your center. Her remaining unclawed fingers dig gently into the meat of both cheeks, keeping you open, but more importantly still, like she already knew what your reaction would be.

And it's certainly not disappointing.

You moan so fucking loudly and abruptly that you startle even yourself, before falling into ragged laughter. You barely manage to grasp the feeling before moaning again, no less loudly, yanking wildly at your arms and feeling your cunt clench desperately around nothing.

"Does that feel good, baby?" She teases, a hint of laughter in her voice as if it's not the most obvious answer in the world.

Your already overwhelming arousal spikes so sharply, you swear for a second you're about to orgasm from this alone. You clench again and try to arch your back all at once, trying to push yourself more open for her, some part of your brain still being tethered to the world enough to realize that you're now sobbing through your moaning and laughter. Your sinuses ache, eyes brimming with hot tears. She keeps it up, though, that soft scritching, and you feel like it goes on for hours.

That so-called ability to not vocalize your arousal when needed is long-gone; every little swipe of the claws draws a sharp "Ah~" cry out of you like you're some kind of touch-starved, horny metronome.

"Do you want to cum?" She asks, maybe a year later if you had to guess.

You shake your head. Your face is wet, your body is wet. You realize you must have broken out into a sweat after all because Aubrey seems to be struggling to maintain her grip on you, now.

"No? You want me to stay right here?"

You nod as fast as you can, and the action sends black spots into your vision. Your lungs burn pleasantly and your head swims.

"I think you're going to have a heart attack, honey."

She's right - or at the very least you might pass out. You want to be suspended in this bliss forever, as torturous as it would be. It's like that millisecond into the start of an orgasm where everything is tight and achy and ticklish.

The claws slow but don't stop, like she's easing you into the loss you're about to experience. The tickles slow, and spread, covering more ground in between touching those newly-discovered nuclear spots, and soon she's not brushing over them anymore at all.

You turn your face into your arm and shudder, panting moans turning into spilling tears as the bed dips and you hear the clatter of the claws being dropped to the windowsill one last time.

"Hey." Aubrey sinks down beside you and undoes your hands; her tone is soothing but her movements are almost frantic, rushed and messy as she yanks clumsily at the knots and then eases your arms down slightly.

"Oh my god," you breathe, sniffling. Your breath rattles as you barely catch it long enough to power your next bout of crying.

"I know you didn't ask me to stop but I don't know if you could."

You nod quickly, cognizant enough to want to reassure her that despite your unexpected response you are absolutely in heaven.

"I could," you promise, vaguely aware that you technically 'could' just the same way an alcoholic 'could' turn down a drink offered.

She softens and pulls you to her, and the unexpected sweetness brings on one more hot wave of tears. You shiver hard from all of the stimulation and bury your face in her neck, one arm slipping down between you both to touch yourself.

She takes your wrist gently and you whine, nuzzling into her further.

"Please," you mumble thickly, "Wanna cum."

She dips her head and when you lift yours she kisses you. You moan encouragingly into it and let your fingers settle on her wrist as she lets you go and brings her own fingers between your legs, sliding coaxingly through your folds.

You jerk against her with a gasp, though you probably should have realized you'd be a little oversensitive after all of that. She cups you carefully, letting you relax into the warmth of her hand before slowly beginning to nudge your clit with one knuckle.

The tears have stopped at some point, itchy and dry on your face and she seems thoroughly convinced that you are as good as you feel.

You kiss her again a little more lewdly, licking at her lip before slipping your tongue lazily into her mouth. For a moment there in the height of it you'd been worried that you'd reached a new peak; the aching in your muscles, you ass and pussy both desperate and empty, had made you briefly lose track of your clit, but it was fully taking over your brain, now.

Her middle finger swims through your wetness and traces a tiny, questioning circle around your entrance. You lift away in surprise at first, giggling dirtily into her mouth at the unexpected tickle, then sink down onto the digit, encouragement enough for her index to join it a second later.

It's all very gentle and quiet for a few moments. Aubrey shifts you onto your back, her other arm slipping softly under the center of it to keep you from flattening too soon after forcing yourself into such a straining arch earlier. She begins pumping her previously still fingers slowly, the previously rhythmic nudging against your clit morphing into small circles, adding a tiny bit more pressure the longer it continues until your soft moans turn into slightly more urgent panting breaths.

You're far too exhausted to do much more than squeeze your legs around her forearm in warning when you begin climbing your peak; she kisses you again, wet, open, swallowing your sounds and then murmuring quiet encouragement.

"Legs open, sweetheart"; "Good girl"; and then, as you slip over the edge with a few high pitched gasps of pleasure: "Oh, that's so pretty"

You hum softly, a tiny pleased sound as she slowly pulls her fingers out of you. Without unwrapping her arm from you she pushes herself up to hover over you and presses a kiss to the damp skin just below your breasts.

"Beautiful."

You watch lazily as she definitively taps the 'stop' button on the phone screen and then locks it, before turning her attention to you once more. You can tell she wants to ask again if you're okay but what you imagine is an extremely blissed out expression on your face stops her. Instead, she drops her head and rests her cheek on your ribs.

It's silent as you let the full body tingling fade, slipping your own arm around her and tracing up and down her waist in a way that would have had you giggling and squirming but seems to lull her into total relaxation.

"I feel so good," you think out loud, pausing your movements when Aubrey tenses in acknowledgement then lifts her head to look at you properly.

"Yeah, I heard," she replies, a tiny smile tugging at her mouth.

You chuckle and shift so she can slide up and kiss you. It's almost foreign to kiss her so chastely, unlike the neediness from before.

"Can I tell you something?" You ask as you break away, staying so close it's almost difficult to make proper eye contact.

"Yeah."

"I love you."

She doesn't even hesitate, kissing you again and then saying, "I love you too, and I was going to say it first."

Her arm around you anchors you to her as she suddenly tickles your side, gentle but maddening as her other hand joins on the opposite side. You giggle, squirming closer and kissing her again, stopping the playful attack in its tracks.

"Don't slack off next time," you mumble, if only to provoke her further. She goes to tickle you again but you wrestle her hands away and go for her neck, fluttering tiny pecks around her ears and jaw to make her giggle and try to scrunch up to block you.

"[Y/N]," she hisses, giggles turning a bit throatier when your lips start finding the spots that are erogenous and ticklish at the same time. "We have dinner reservations in an hour."

It's a reminder that comes out weakly, a warning not to get too carried away. You heed it, sitting up and stretching.

"Shower with me," you insist; a compromise.

She agrees wordlessly, helping you to your feet and letting you lead the way.

-

Your Uber drops you off right in front of the restaurant so by the time a few people outside notice Aubrey, you two have already made your way inside without being approached.

The place is casual but intimate - only a few dozen tables in the small space - and as the two of you are taken to yours, Aubrey slips her hand into yours gently.

"Alright?" she asks, slipping into the half circle booth opposite you.

"This is so nice," you reply, glancing around curiously. It's a place you've never been but you trust your girlfriend to know some good hidden gems.

Under the table she rubs her foot against your shin affectionately and then leaves you be, sliding one menu closer to you.

"Maybe we should make a tradition out of it," she suggests. "Not here specifically - but y'know. Date night to take our minds off of her being gone when she's out of town."

You smile at that and nod almost shyly when the server appears and goes over the wine list. Having never been, you let her take the lead, watching her admiringly from your spot across from her. Once a selection is made and the server leaves you alone, she scoots into the booth a bit further and jerks her head to you.

"C'mere."

You immediately scoot a little closer, grinning when she hooks her ankle around yours.

"Thank you," you tell her, feeling the heaviness in your words.

"For dinner?"

You shoot her a playfully stern look and her eyes sparkle.

"Oh… the other thing?"

You blush, squirming on the spot and rolling your eyes as if her reminder wasn't getting under your skin.

"Everything," you say genuinely. "Taking my mind off of… all of it."

Her expression softens and she takes your hand on the table, squeezing it reassuringly.

"That's what I'm here for."

Dinner is blissfully uneventful. The thoughts of overdue school work and missing Kathryn - and knowing that tomorrow you'd be possibly fully outing yourself with her for the first time - all fade into nothing as you eat incredible food and drink wine you can't pronounce, feeling completely floaty and full and warm by the time Aubrey is leading you out and into the car. A few people seem to notice her a beat too late once again, and you're sure more than a few people whipped out their cameras for a shot of her nudging you into the back seat, but you're too content to care.

She takes you back to yours and follows you in without needing to ask, even though the day took too much out of you for you to do much more than share one more glass of wine while tangled up in your bed with the TV playing quietly.

You don't even remember falling asleep - listening to the laugh track from some retro sitcom with your head tucked into your girlfriend's chest.

-

"Hey, time to get up, sweetheart," Aubrey's voice stirs you, and you grumble into your pillow ungratefully.

"No, please," you whine softly, twisting away when Aubrey firmly rubs your back, trying to rouse you. "I don't have to get up until I go to the airport later."

"You have school work to do and a quiz to make up today," she reminds you, her tone stern but gentle.

You wave a hand dismissively, and then turn the waving into swatting at her blindly when she pokes your shoulder sharply. The poking finger jabs right into your armpit when it returns and you let out a loud choking sound of shock before it retreats again.

Grabbing the duvet you yank it up under your armpits defensively and sink back into the pillow for a moment before you hear her let out a sound between exasperation and amusement.

"[Y/N]," she warns - it's all the notice you get before she's suddenly going for the side of your neck; not tickling or scratching, either, but unexpectedly, poking again.

It's awful. You tilt your head to try and stop her, then bury yourself into the duvet even more, away from her view, but it doesn't slow her in the slightest.

Every sporadic little poke and prod shoots lightning bolts of tickles through your neck, seeming to ripple out from each spot that her finger lands on and leaving you squealing, bubbly giggles bursting out of you each time.

"Stop!" You demand, causing the onslaught to come to an abrupt end, the fingers that were just tickling a moment ago instead stroking soothingly in place, gentle on the delicate skin but firm enough not to incite anymore laughter.

You take a shuddering breath and chuckle, emerging from the covers to catch the curious, amused look on the other woman's face. Her surprise doesn't surprise you - you can take a lot more than that, usually. Generally, you actually really liked having your neck tickled, even by your standards, the sensation usually ranging from affectionate and teasy to downright erogenous. Generally, though, that was in the form of a quick scritch under your jaw to make you squeak, or a more targeted attack from behind to make you scrunch your shoulders, shivering uncontrollable through giggles, or, probably your favorite, sloppy, dragging kisses around your throat to make you moan and laugh all at once.

Poking and neck felt like two incompatible sides of mental sex dice. The method was generally reserved for specific spots: your ribs and waist and belly and even back when the aim was focused were the targets that came to mind. You could scream and laugh until you passed out from having your thighs kneaded into or stroked patiently but a simple poke - no matter how repetitive - wouldn't have any sort of real effect on you.

"I… you took me by surprise," you tell your girlfriend, not sure how to best explain your own meticulous internal sorting-system for exactly how to touch you, and where.

"I see that," she replies on a small laugh, drawing her hand away from your skin and raising both eyebrows at you playfully.

"That shouldn't have tickled like that," you say, feeling stupid for the words as soon as they leave your mouth.

Aubrey snorts.

"Did you hit your head?" she asks, reaching over and poking your ribs instead. You grin, twisting away defensively and snatch at her hand.

"No, I mean the-" she wriggles her hand free and you snatch it up again when a nervous giggle. "The poking! It shouldn't -"

"Oh no?" she interrupts, using her free hand to poke your stomach once, twice, then your ribs when you try to slap her away. "This doesn't tickle?"

You laugh defeatedly when she gets another especially good jab in to the front of your ribs just below your breast.

"Not my neck!" You insist, shooting her a playful glare when you successfully capture both of her hands once more with your own.

"Hmm…" She ponders this new information for a moment and then wrenches her hands free again. "Well you can have an existential crisis over it later. You still have to get up."

She grabs your hips and you shriek with preemptive laughter but she just grins, not tickling, and pulls your hips to the edge of the bed so that your legs fall off of the side. Letting your feet brush the floor as they sway but never stepping down, stubbornly, you pout at her. Her smile softens a little as she stands up, hands on your thighs to steady herself.

"What's wrong?"

You squirm under the weight of her concern a little.

"Nothing," you promise, reaching for her hands and then using her as an anchor to pull yourself up to a sitting position.

Aubrey glances over at her phone when the screen lights up with a new text and then helps you stand.

"You've got two hours before you even have to leave for the airport. Plenty of time to make up that quiz," she points out. You tense, and she notices - or, half-notices, it seems. "Is that what you're worried about? The airport?"

"No. Is it bad that I'm actually a little excited for that?" You ask.

"I don't think so," she assures you. "It'll be nice to get to be… out, you know? Nothing wrong with looking forward to it."

She presses a kiss to your temple, concern forgotten, for which you're grateful. You follow her to the bathroom, already convincing yourself that you can make up the marks for the quiz you're definitely going to skip later on.

-

The text from Kathryn that you'd been waiting for appears on your screen and you immediately exit your Instagram feed, which you'd been boredly scrolling for the last fifteen minutes.

I thought I was going to die on that tarmac.

You snort, typing your reply out quickly with one hand as you turn your keys in the ignition with the other.

you ready for me?

You look at your reflection in the visor mirror for a moment, scrutinizing your makeup one last time. You felt a little guilty getting done up for a glorified potential pap-walk but if there were cameras around, you didn't want your first photo together to possibly blow up to be unflattering and follow you forever.

Yeah

Heading out now

You pull out of the cell-phone parking lot and head toward arrivals, weaving slowly through the honking cars and being waved by a security agent towards a small space freeing up by the curb. Just as you're putting on your hazards you see her - or rather, the small commotion she's causing - a few exit doors away.

A few stray photographers spill out before she makes her exit and you quickly leap out of the car to wave her over enthusiastically. Hurrying you meet her halfway, you grab her duffle bag from her despite her protests and grin as you take her in. You expect her to keep moving back towards your car but it seems that the affection is mutual, and she pulls you in with an arm around your back, squeezing you tightly in greeting.

"Missed you," she murmurs, pressing her lips to your temple and swaying you slightly.

Loud shutter sounds continue to erupt around you as another photographer makes his way out, joining the fray. You giggle almost giddily, eyes locked on her as she slowly releases you, and then grab her hand to lace your fingers together, leading her back toward your idling car.

You, closer to the side, open her door for her to climb in as you situate her bag in your back seat, and with you both in the car - her in her seat and you hanging into the open back seat, she speaks over the calling out from the crowd at the curb.

"Not too bad."

"Not at all," you agree, mostly to make sure she knows you don't feel upset or overwhelmed.

You feel excited, really - maybe a little self-conscious, worried about making an odd face or gesture in some photo - but the realization that this is the first of many public outings with her as something more than an 'and unnamed friend' byline is causing a blooming happiness to spread through your entire chest.

Shutting the back door and rounding the car to get back in the driver's seat, you watch the photographers begin to lose interest, unable to get any more decent photos through the dark car windows, and then wave to the security guard who waves you into the flow of traffic to leave the terminal.

"Sorry they held you hostage on the plane for so long," you tease, reaching over the center console to squeeze her knee softly. She snorts and you leave your hand there until you're forced to let go to turn the steering wheel again.

"It was like a million degrees in there," she complains.

You laugh at the tiredness cracking her tone, glancing over to properly take her in again. She's in her flying-comfy outfit - soft linen pants, comfortable shoes, a worn crewneck sweater and her oversized reading glasses.

"My poor baby." You crank the A/C despite your playful mocking, and smile when she sighs blissfully, sinking back against the seat. "Hopefully a cool shower and a nap in a central-air-blessed room will alleviate your suffering."

She groans appreciatively at the thought, then turns her head against the headrest to watch you as you drive.

"Thank you for picking me up."

You can hear the rest of the sentiment under her words. Thank you for taking this step and making things easier for me. Thank you for taking it all in stride so fearlessly.

"Happy to," you tell her, meaning it in every way.

The air conditioning seems to give her a bit of her strength back. A few more minutes into the ride and she wakes up a little more, talking animatedly and loudly about some of the press junkets and events.

By the time you finally reach her house and spot a few stray photographers lingering - her appearance at the airport clearly signaled that the next stop to spot her would be her home - but you ignore them all as she opens the gate from her phone and you head inside, staying back near the entrance to make sure its shut with only you two inside before heading up the driveway.

"Come in," she insists. "I'll be lousy company but I want to catch up."

You carry her bag in for her and head to the kitchen to start on a snack while she heads upstairs to shower. The time escapes you while you put together a grazing plate and ten minutes later she startles you when she emerges in a fresh pair of pajamas, damp hair loose around her shoulders. You can really see the tiredness on her features, now, but she seems much more refreshed, sleepily kissing you as she approaches, and smiling into it before following it up with a second, deeper kiss.

You moan softly into her mouth as you cup her face, laughing softly as you pull away.

"Sorry. I just really missed you."

She hums her agreement and leans against you as she swipes an olive off of the plate on the counter, then picks up the entire thing and jerks her head toward the living room for you to follow her.

"I want to know everything," she says. You sit on the couch and hold your arms out for her, grinning when she accepts the invitation and climbs up beside you, sagging her entire body weight into your torso.

You pick away at the plate that somehow ends up in your lap, careful to leave enough to encourage her to keep snacking knowing she probably at most had to rush through an airport snack for her entire day.

You don't have much to update her on. You mention your dinner with Aubrey but it had been uneventful; Kathryn prods for details anyway, and you can't help but feel warm and fuzzy at knowing that her questions about what wine pairing you had and how the service was are coming from genuine interest in everything you have to say.

When the plate is cleared and set aside, you shift to make room for her between your legs, the pair of you moving around until she's comfortably sprawled out with her head just propped against your breasts, the rest of her stretched down the length of the couch. You're vaguely aware of the damp patch her hair is leaving on your shirt but you ignore it in favor of softly stroking her shoulder and upper arm with one hand.

You talk for a few more minutes before realizing how still she's become, and softly nudge her hip with the side of your knee. She jostles slightly but doesn't respond and you try not to squeal outright, carefully slowing your caressing to a stop and threading that same hand into the end of her hair instead.

Craning your neck to check the time, you lay wordlessly in the complete silence of her otherwise empty house, perfectly content to stay there for as long as she wants.

You're practically in a meditative state when she finally comes to a half hour later, squirming a little and then groaning at the mild strain to her back.

"Can't believe I fell asleep," she mumbles, stifling a yawn and then turning onto her back to resume her position on your stomach.

"You needed the rest," you insist, hands dropping to her upper arms again and resuming their slow, soothing strokes from earlier. She sighs heavily and stretches her legs out, toes pointing until she relaxes once more, seeming to almost liquify into you and the couch.

"I'm getting up," she says, more to herself than you, but doesn't move.

You hum and then shift, wrapping your legs around her hips softly.

"No."

She chuckles, hands coming to rest on your calves.

"I really need to. I have to check in with Jen and I don't even want to think about how many texts I probably have from that flight."

You tighten your leg grip slightly and she stops talking.

"Just lay with me for five more minutes. Five awake minutes to get your brain rebooted."

She sighs, rubbing your calves gently, and you can hear the resignation.

"Okay," she relents. "Five minutes. Then we're both getting back to work."

The reminder of the email requesting a meeting with you from your advisor hits you like a headache and you wince physically at the thought. She doesn't seem to notice, though, stroking your legs soothingly.

Five minutes suddenly doesn't feel nearly as relaxing; too short, now, not enough time to float in your unbothered bliss the way you want to. You must go tense, because Kathryn's hands pause and she tilts her head back in a failed attempt to look up at you.

"You okay, honey?"

"Yeah," you lie, almost startled at how easily. "I'm totally fine."

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