February Prompt: Strapped (Patreon)

Masterlist

Notes: Well, you asked for it. The filth. AKA, Echo finds a strap on that didn't get used before the outbreak. She and Gen make use.  Appropriately titled Strapped... heh heh xD. Anyway, I had to split it into 2 parts because it was so long and Patreon couldn't fit it all into one post... idk why my smut is always so long, but here's the first NSFW prompt I've done for Patreon. Set about 6 months after CDAD, from Echo's POV. Enjoy!

CDAD: Strapped: Part 1

I kicked the kitchen cupboard closed with my foot as I turned away from it, finished searching the downstairs of this home. There were a handful or two of houses left on base that hadn’t been scavenged yet, and since today was a slow day, I figured I’d do some exploring. There hadn’t been any good canned food or supplies worth taking in this part of the house – aside from an old bottle of wine, which was comfortably cradled in my backpack now – but I hadn’t gone through the upstairs yet.

Taking the steps one at a time and keeping my footfall light, I headed to the second story and straight across the hall to the first room. It was the master bedroom, and I cracked open the door with my fist clenched at my side, prepared to grab the pistol strapped to my thigh if there was any trouble. That tension was an old habit I wasn’t sure would ever die, nor was I sure I wanted it to. I didn’t go outside the gates anymore – even though I hated Genevieve going without me when they had missions – because my headaches weren’t predictable enough and, if I had one in the middle of a crisis, I could get more than just myself killed. But as safe as this base was, anything could happen – especially with the Hunters still getting smarter. Needless to say, I didn’t want to be rusty if we ever needed to leave here, so I stayed tense when exploring uncharted corners, and I stayed aware of my surroundings.

There was nothing treacherous in the master bedroom, and I strode in to explore the boring places first. The bathroom, which had some useful unopened soaps that I’d keep in mind but didn’t feel like carrying back right now, and the trunk at the foot of the bed that had some extra blankets in it. I worked my way around the bed to the nightstand, picking up an old photograph on top.

“Oh,” I said in response to the faces in the picture. “Hello, nice looking lady couple.” And I tossed the frame over my shoulder and face down onto the bed. “Don’t mind me.”

I pulled open the drawer of the nightstand to see what was inside: some hand lotion, a book, and an expensive wooden box that caught my attention. I pulled the box out, setting it on the bed and flipping up the lid. Nice. Expensive watches. I pulled out a gold one and slipped it on, turning my wrist to see how it looked. It was pretty glamorous, probably the most expensive thing I’d touched in my entire life, and I pushed up my long sleeve to get a better view. But doing that exposed part of a crescent shaped scar on my arm – a bite mark. It completely shattered any sense of grand normalcy the watch might’ve given, and I took it off and let it fall back into the box. I’d have taken it for Genevieve because she liked old things, but it was useless anyway. The battery was dead.

“Closet,” I murmured, turning away from the bed and throwing open the mirrored door. “Clothes,” I noted, shuffling through the hangers. “Clothes. More clothes.” I got to the end and hummed with interest, reaching down into a fancy black shopping bag on the floor and pulling out the box that was in it. I was in the middle of raising it to get a better look at what was written when the picture on the front registered. “Ugh!” I dropped the box, shaking the phallic image from my mind and throwing my hand as if that would get the germs off. “You did not just grab somebody’s freaking dildo box.”

But wait… it was in the box, right? Which meant my hands were still clean and… I reached down, retrieving the package to check the seal. Yep, it had never been opened. Brand new… and harness included. It wasn’t really what I was looking for though, so I tossed it into the growing useless pile on the bed.

“No more kinky surprises, nice looking lady couple." I stretched up to check what was on the high shelf above the clothing rack. It took a moment of feeling around before I found something. “Now that,” I whispered, my hand setting on a familiarly shaped grip, “is what I’m talking about.”

I pulled the pistol down off the shelf, turning it over in my hands to check it out. It was nice enough, semi automatic and appearing in working condition, though it was in need of a cleaning, and I could tell by the weight that there were no bullets in the magazine. I still checked it just to be sure, and after putting it into my backpack, I stretched up again to see if there was a box of ammo up there somewhere. I was too short to see, so I felt around blindly, working my way down the empty shelf until I touched the side of something square. I grabbed for it, but the moment I did, it snapped down hard on my finger.

“SHIT!” I hissed, stumbling backward from the pure shock.

It scared me a hell of a lot more than it hurt, but in my surprised retreat out of the closet, I scraped my forearm on something sharp. That hurt, and my hand still hurt, and it wasn’t until I regained my balance and glanced down that I realized the mousetrap was still clamped onto my fingers.

“Well, I didn’t say anything about normal surprises…” I muttered, pulling the trap off and repeatedly making a fist to squeeze out the pain.

But now I was bleeding. Perfect. Whatever cut me had gone through the long sleeve of my shirt, deep enough that blood was already spreading. I pinched apart the hole in my sleeve to get a look at the wound. At least it wasn’t deep enough to need stitches, but what with being infected and all, I couldn’t go around bleeding all over the place. So I paced to the bathroom and grabbed an old hand towel, pressing it against the cut and then hurrying to the door. Only, once I got there, I stopped. Turned. My eyes locked onto the discarded, unopened box I’d found in the closet.

It was in the useless pile, but was it really useless? I couldn’t help thinking about it as my gaze wandered over the detailed picture on the front. How would Genevieve react? I couldn’t even be sure she’d let me use it, but if she did… I could just picture the look on her face as I pushed into her. Could imagine how it would feel to have her hips moving against mine, and to use my own hips to make her breathless instead of my hands. The way her body would move and tremble when I’d hit the right spot in the rhythm she loved. How her mouth would hang open, empty of the words and sounds she never could find during sex.

She might not let me use it, and the mere idea of her rejecting it already made me embarrassed, but I shoved the box into my backpack anyway and hurried out the door. Once I was outside, still holding the towel to my arm, I lifted my handheld radio to my lips.

“Calling Pipsqueak Boss Lady,” I said into it, “come in.”

There were a few seconds of pause, and I could hear the laugh in Genevieve’s voice as she replied, “I read you, Bootie Call. Over.”

I huffed amusedly and took in a breath to respond, but before I could, another familiar voice, Garcia’s, came on. “Could you two not flirt over the airwaves? Jesus.”

“Seriously,” Tripton chimed in from his own handheld. “It’s rude to remind us of the tail we’re not getting.”

“Sorry, fellas,” I laughed into the walkie-talkie. “But you’ve always got each other.”

“I will hurt you,” Garcia threatened.

I chuckled and rolled my eyes, asking, “Gen, where you at?”

“Barracks,” her voice answered, “my room.”

And then Mal decided to provide input, “Get some!”

“Oh my god,” I mumbled to myself as I started in the direction of the barracks, and I returned the handheld to my hip. They were acting like they had no idea Genevieve and I usually shared a room and slept together.

But the conversation wasn’t over, because in response to Mal, Gen said, “Oh, she will. When’s the last time you got any?”

“Burn,” Garcia drawled over the radio.

“Bite me,” Mal laughed.

“Careful,” Tripton warned, “Pipsqueak Boss Lady still gives orders around here.” And Mal held down on her talk button so we could hear her give an overly sarcastic laugh.

“Echo,” Genevieve said, “you started this and I’m going to kick your ass.”

“Busted,” Mal sang.

“Right,” I chuckled, grabbing the radio again, “like any of you stand a chance against me.”

“Whatever you say,” Garcia replied, purposefully emphasizing, “Bootie Call.”

“Over and out,” Genevieve said with dry sarcasm.

I could just picture all three of them laughing, and I put my walkie-talkie back to travel the remaining distance to the barracks. It took me a few minutes to get there and make it up to Genevieve’s room, where I opened the door and strode in. I was still holding the towel to my arm, so I tossed a greeting nod to Genevieve while making my way to the dresser, where she kept a small medical kit in the top drawer, dropping my backpack and removing the gun strapped to my thigh on the way. I’d have gone over to give her a kiss hello, but I didn’t want to be anywhere near her until I got rid of this blood. The very fact that I was even doing this in her room was stressful enough… maybe I should’ve just gone to the med center.

“You know,” Genevieve said from where she was sitting on the bed, looking down and focusing on reading, “this book is actually pretty good.”

“I’m surprised you’re actually reading it,” I teased. It was one her brother and I both agreed was amazing, and though she’d never been much of a reader, she insisted she wanted to see what the fuss was about when we refused to stop talking about it.

“Hey,” she said with mock offense, rising to meet me, “I like boo-” But she saw me pull the medical kit out of the drawer, and then her eyes went to the bloody towel I’d set on the dresser. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” I said, because it wasn’t a big deal and I didn’t want her worrying. “Just a scratch.”

She walked over, asking, “Do you want any help?”

“No!” I held out my clean hand to stop her from getting any closer, to keep her away from my blood so there was no way she’d get infected, because her even coming over to me had caused my pulse to spike. “No,” I said more gently, “I got it.”

I opened the kit with my clean hand and took out an alcohol pad and some gauze, feeling her eyes on me while I did. Reluctant to touch anything I could get blood on, I tried to open the alcohol package with my teeth, but it slipped.

“Echo,” Genevieve prompted, holding out her hand, “let me help.” I ignored her and tried again, managing to open it the second time. “Echo,” she said again, and I knew what was coming. It wasn’t the first time. “You’re not going to-”

“Infect you, I know,” I interrupted. “Okay? I know it’s not likely to happen.” I dropped my hands with frustration, turning to finally look at her so she could see how stressed I was that she was even this near. “I know that the only way is if my blood gets into someone else’s open wound, I know. But just the idea of it…” My gaze fell, and I took a deep breath to keep from being overly harsh in my near panic. “You know how it felt when you thought you lost me? You remember? I felt something like it too. Those entire eight months, I felt it, and I won’t go through it again. Not ever.” I motioned to the medical kit. “I can clean a scratch on my own.”

She was quiet for a few moments before reaching toward the medical supplies. I opened my mouth to protest, but she held up her index finger to stop me and then continued for the kit. She pulled out another small package, took the rubber gloves out of it, and held them up to show me.

“It’s more than a scratch,” she said, “and you don’t have to clean it on your own.” When I made no response, too indecisive amidst my fear and her determination, she leaned in to press a kiss to my cheek. “It’s okay,” she offered, and then she slipped the gloves on and took the alcohol pad out of my hand. “What happened, anyway?” she asked, motioning to my shirt while she hopped up to sit at the edge of the dresser. “Take that off. Did you have another headache?”

“No,” I answered. I pulled my shirt up and over my head, tossing it into the small garbage can in the corner of the room, and then I stepped in front of Genevieve and gave her my arm. “I got scared by a mousetrap."

She snorted. “Of all the things to get the drop on you…”

“Tell me about it,” I agreed with a small huff of amusement, but I couldn’t make much conversation because I was too busy watching her hands.

Making sure the gloves were good and secure enough. Making sure she never slipped or let her flesh get too close to my blood. I wished I could stop being so paranoid about it, I really did, but I’d finally been able to get over my guilt. If I infected her, if I lost her because of it, then the guilt really would kill me.

Genevieve seemed to know that. “Hey,” she prompted, and her hands stopped cleaning the blood until I looked up at her. “See? I’m okay.” I nodded as my gaze dropped, because it wasn’t about what I knew. I’d survived my greatest fear only to have it replaced by another. So she tried to distract me instead. “Hayden said her first word today.”

And it actually worked. I looked up again, unable to keep the hint of a smile off my face. “Yeah? What was it?”

“Dad,” she answered, finishing cleaning the wound.

“Was Blake there?” I asked, watching as she reached for the gauze. She unrolled it while she nodded, and then began to wrap it around my arm. “How’d he react?”

“He almost cried,” she said, reaching for tape to secure the wrap.

“Of course he did,” I laughed.

She simply grinned at me, and since she was done with what she was doing, she removed the gloves and tossed them into the trash. “Would you look at that?” she said smugly, brushing her hands together. “I helped you out and I’m still me.”

I narrowed my eyes at her, scolding, “That wasn’t easy for me.”

“I know,” she said, lips pursing with an apologetic smile. She glanced down and ran her fingers over the lowest bite scar on my arm, one of the ones responsible for leaving me infected. She moved to the next one, and then the next, tracing upward while her eyes followed her hand. I’d gotten used to her touching all my scars, and none of them made me feel as guilty as they used to, so all her touches did were succeed in putting butterflies in my stomach. She grazed her way to my shoulder, and then to the scar in my neck, and there was a smirk on her face when she cupped my jaw, finally looking at me and leaning in to my mouth. “I’ll reward you for it.”

She pressed one long, lingering peck to the wide smile on my lips before it caused her to pull away and tilt her head curiously.

I couldn’t help but tease, “So I’m still going to get some?”

“I hate you so much,” she laughed, giving my shoulder a playful push. “They’re going to annoy us about it for a month.”

“Hey,” I protested through a laugh of my own, throwing my hands up, “you’re the one who said Bootie Call. As if that’s not a million times more sexual than the call sign I gave you.”

“Yeah,” she chuckled, “but we agreed those call signs were the worst idea we’d ever had, and you still used it.”

“Well,” I said, sliding my palms up her thighs because I wanted those butterflies again, and maybe more than that. “Your bootie call’s here, so…” And I kissed her, feeling her lips readily give in to mine and part with reception.

I loved kissing her. Could do it all day, every day, because I’d spent so long not being able to when I wanted. I could never get enough of her lips, or her tongue. I loved the way it grazed mine. Loved how the faint touch of it was the first thing I felt every time my mouth opened against hers, and how I could touch her any way and as much as I wanted to.

By the time she reached for the button of my cargos and pulled away just enough to speak, she was already breathing excitedly. “Your last headache was yesterday?” she asked, slipping off the edge of the dresser while her fingers undid the button.

“You’re so romantic...” I said against her lips, kissing her again because I didn’t want to stop.

She started guiding me backward toward the bed, moving to my zipper while she muttered, “I’m serious.”

I knew she was, because her movements were as eager as her breathing, and because she was rushing me to the mattress, and she didn’t wait to sit me on the foot of it. It’d been a while since we’d done this because she’d been so busy lately helping Blake with the next big mission, and I could tell she didn’t want any interruptions. Didn’t want the dopamine rush to trigger a headache, because nothing killed the mood quite like one of those crippling near-minute migraines, and it hurt her to see me like that.

“Yeah,” I answered, reaching out from my seat on the bed and grabbing her by the hips, pulling her forward until she was straddling me. “We’re good.”

Her mouth was back on mine in an instant, fingers tangling in my hair, and maybe I was just as eager for this as she was, because I grabbed the hem of her tank top and yanked upward, flinging it away and then bypassing her lips for her neck. I went straight for that sweet spot beneath her ear, moving my hands to her stomach to feel her ribs expand with the hard breath she took the moment my mouth touched down. Every time it was the same, always that reaction and it never got old. Never stopped being one of my favorite things because it was one of her favorite things, and the revealing way her thighs tightened against either side of mine made heat pool in my core.

One of my hands slipped upward, working beneath the fabric of her sports bra to cup her breast. To massage in combination with the suction of my lips because I knew she loved that too, and right now it didn’t seem like either of us had the patience to take the slow road. With every groping knead and each teasing flick I gave, the hand she still had in my hair gripped with need, pressing my mouth harder against her neck. Her other hand had started a downward descent between us, and it wasn’t until she got the tips of her fingers beneath the lining of my underwear that I remembered the unopened box in my bag.

“Wait,” I breathed into her neck, removing my hand from her chest even though her hand kept going. It got low enough to touch me, and I hummed my halfhearted protest, taking a long moment to force myself not to just let this continue. “Wait, Gen, wait.”

That got her to stop, and she took her hand out of my pants and leaned back to look at me with a worried curve in her mouth. “What’s wrong?”

I pecked her on the lips to put her at ease. “I brought something that I wanted to show you.”

“Seriously?” she asked, dropping her forehead against mine. “Right now?”

“Trust me,” I urged. It was either going to totally encourage the mood she was in or completely ruin it, and I was really hoping she wouldn’t react poorly.

“Fine,” she sighed, stealing one more kiss before pushing off my lap. “I’ll get it while you take your boots off.”

“Deal,” I agreed, reaching down to begin unlacing. “It’s in my backpack.”

And I focused entirely on my boots, too afraid of what her reaction would be to watch her walk to my backpack and pick it up. I could hear her unzip the bag, and then nothing.

Silence for a long span of seconds before, “Oh. My. God.” My eyes darted up to see what kind of ‘oh my god’ that was while I tossed my first boot away. Her mouth was hanging open with the hint of a smile. “Where did you find this?”

“In a house I was scavenging,” I answered, stretching to undo the last set of laces.

Another moment of pause. “It’s never been opened,” she mused.

“I really wouldn’t have grabbed it if it had,” I laughed.

She didn’t respond, but while I finished taking off my other boot, she set to work on opening it. She broke the tape and flipped up the lid, pulling out a flesh-colored toy suspended in plastic, and then dumped the box upside down so the harness hit the floor. The first thing she did after that was toss the box away and pull the dildo out of the plastic, and even though she didn’t say anything about it, my first thought was yikes. I didn’t have any experience with the real thing… but this was definitely bigger than fingers.

“So…” I prompted, because she was just studying it, turning it over in her hands to look at the ribbed texture along the length of it. And I’d thought she might be weirded out, but I think I was more weirded out now than she was. The shape of it was really real. At least, I think it was... “Are you interested?”

“Are you kidding?” she answered, setting it on the dresser so she could begin removing the rest of her clothing, asking as she did, “can I use it?”

“Of course you can,” I chuckled, because that was why I’d brought it.

She’d given a way better reaction than I’d been expecting, and I lifted my hips off the bed so I could take my own clothes off too, because I was ready. I was so ready to try it out that it was with impatience I watched her fit the dildo into the harness, but then she did something I didn’t expect. She stepped into it, and I realized now exactly what she’d meant by ‘can I use it.’

“Whoa, whoa, hold on,” I protested, instantly growing nervous. That had not been the plan. I mean… it wasn’t like I expected her not to want to use it on me… but this wasn’t the order I’d set my mind to, and that threw a wrench in the excitement I’d built up about experimenting.

She raised an eyebrow at me. “What?”

It wasn’t that I was against it. I just wasn’t prepared for it. At all. And I didn’t want her to think I was totally cool with using it on her and not even slightly open to at least trying, but honestly, that thing was intimidating, and she just kept tightening the straps around her hips, looking confused about why I was hesitating when I’d sounded so eager about giving her permission.

“I uh, it’s just…” I faltered, searching for something to say because even though I knew I could tell her to forget it, I wasn’t saying no. I just needed to stall for a minute and prepare myself. “Should we clean it, or something? It came from a factory and then was in a box for like seven years…”

She squinted thoughtfully and glanced around the room, then snatched a fresh alcohol wipe from the med kit, opening it and starting to clean the dildo before I could even say anything. “There,” she beamed, tossing the wipe away. “All clean.”

“Gen,” I protested, “that’s rubbing alcohol.” She hummed with innocent curiosity. “And you want it to go inside me!”

“It’s safe…” She glanced down at the fake flesh jutting out from between her legs and shrugged. “And it’s already dry.”

She looked so pleased with herself that I couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re the worst!”

“You love me,” she said with a grin, striding back to where I was. Only, I was still sitting, and that thing was so awkwardly close to my lips that my cheeks flared.

“Right,” I murmured, grabbing her by the hips and turning her around. “I really don’t want that thing in my face.”

“Look at you,” she teased, glancing over her shoulder at me, “getting all flustered.”

I scooted back on the bed so she could turn around again, saying, “I kind of wasn’t mentally prepared for this.”

She turned, raising both eyebrows at me and laughing, “You had more time to mentally prepare than I did.”

“That’s… true,” I conceded, and she chuckled and stood there, watching my gaze go repeatedly from her face to between her legs with an anxious indecision.

And after studying that indecision for a bit longer, she seemed to take it more seriously, because her forehead creased with concern. “You’re freaked out.”

“I just,” I began, pausing to glance down at it again. I could handle it, probably, but I had no idea what to expect and I didn’t know if it would hurt or if I’d even like it. But I could try. I should at least try, right? And I did want to, it’s just that my curiosity and nervousness were pretty even rivals at this point. I blew a breath through my lips, dropping my head back against the headboard. “You know what? Never mind, it’s okay.” Her brown eyes scanned my face for a long span of seconds, and I must not have been very convincing, because she reached for the straps to begin undoing them. “No, it’s okay,” I said, reaching out so the gesture would stop her. “It’s okay. Just go slow… really slow.”

“You’re sure?” she asked. “’Cause it’s fine if you don’t want to. You could still use it on me.”

I looked down again in consideration, giving a determined nod when I met her gaze. She climbed onto the bed, readily crawling over me to dip her lips to my jaw and sweet lord it put that thing right THERE. I could feel it pressing against my inner thigh and it was a lot more solid than it looked, and I couldn’t help but ask, “It feels good, right?” It had been a long time since I’d felt like this. Like that inexperienced, awkward teenager I used to be.

She lifted and pressed a kiss to my cheek, saying against my skin, “You’ve had my fingers inside you plenty of times, and you seem to enjoy it.”

I tilted my chin to the side when she grazed her mouth down to my neck, allowing the warmth of her lips to begin putting me at ease. “This is different, though,” I pointed out, my eyes fluttering closed as her tongue worked over my pulse point. “It’s bigger.”

She kissed her way back to my jaw, following the line of it to my chin, where she planted an open peck before setting her forehead against mine. “If it doesn’t feel good,” she said, so close that I could feel her breath on my lips, “or if you change your mind, we’ll switch.”

“Okay. Yeah.” I nodded against her, and now that she had my explicit consent, she slipped her left hand between us, setting it on my stomach so it could start a downward path. “I don’t know why I freaked out,” I continued. It was dumb that I’d gotten so nervous in the first place because of course she’d switch if I didn’t like it. “I knew you’d probably want to use it on me too, but I just had it in my head th-”

She slid her finger over my clit before I could finish. The sharp breath I took in cut me off, and I could feel her smiling in the brief kiss she gave me. “Have I ever told you that you talk too much?” she asked.

She made another purposeful stroke against what she knew was my favorite spot, so that I barely managed to whimper, “All the time.”

Genevieve let out an amused huff, returning her lips to mine to kiss me deeply. With how eagerly she’d put the harness on, I would’ve thought she’d want to use it right away. Except she just kept touching me, running her finger in wide circles, dipping down to collect the building moisture and only giving me grazes of direct contact where I needed it most. After a mere minute of it, and of how openly she was kissing me, I was ready for more. I wanted her to really touch me. Wanted a reason to release the moans that formed in my throat every time she got close, but never quite slipped through my lips because she knew exactly when to pull away to keep me guessing.

So I rocked my hips against her hand, following her motions to try and get them where I wanted, or to make it a silent plea for more. And it worked, but she didn’t give me the contact I’d been searching for – the next time one of her fingers dropped down to collect moisture, it pushed into me. It was unexpected, and not exactly what I’d hoped for, but it was still such a relief that the loud moan I finally let out pulled me away from her lips.

That noise was the first, but I knew it wouldn’t be the last, especially when Genevieve wandered away from my mouth to suck at my neck. I never could stay quiet, and that’s why we usually did this at the house instead of in the barracks – so I wouldn’t have to mute myself. With the next thrust Genevieve made and the next sound it coaxed from my lips, I almost reached for a pillow. But she loved the noises, and I wanted so badly to watch her and kiss her and I couldn’t do that with my face buried in fabric.

“I’m going to be loud,” I warned, deciding I didn’t care one bit if anyone heard.

“Good,” she murmured against my flesh, and she added a second finger and pushed upward as she entered me again, hitting a spot that made my back curve away from the mattress.

And she didn’t just do it once. She picked up a slow pace, lifting enough to watch me with a pleased smirk on her face because I was already putty in her hands. At the back of my mind, I remembered what we were supposed to be doing, I could still feel the hardness against my thigh, but I didn’t care anymore. This felt too good, and either way I’d come, and it didn’t matter how she got me there just as long she did. God, she would. I was rising already, and I wanted to be there now because I knew she wouldn’t let it end after I came just once.

“Don’t stop,” I pleaded, but the moment the words left my tongue, she did stop.

Even more, she removed her fingers completely. I whimpered, aching with the sudden emptiness and the remaining tension of how much she’d built me up. The severe disappointment must’ve shown on my face, because she kissed me and then rose, sitting back on her feet between my legs.

“I wanted to make sure you were wet enough first,” she explained, making a revealing glance at the jutting piece between her legs. “So you’d be comfortable.”

“Okay,” I breathed, so ready for release that I scooted down, putting myself closer to her.

“Okay,” she repeated with a smile, and she dropped forward to hover over me, supporting herself on one elbow while the other arm stretched between us.

“Go slow,” I reminded as I wrapped my hands around to her back, feeling a hint of that nervousness I’d had earlier because this was it.

She nodded and pecked me on the lips. “I promise.” I stared down between us, bracing myself as she gripped the base of it to guide it toward me. Only, before the tip reached me, she hesitated, chuckling as she caught my gaze. “Are you tensing? Your abs look tight.” I gave an unsure grimace, because I didn’t know how this was going to feel and what else did she expect me to do. “Don’t do that,” she laughed.

But I couldn’t help it, and she seemed to realize that, because she worked the length of it up my core instead of starting to push inside me, until the whole underside of it had dragged against me. And it was textured with those ridges, and each one caught at my clit on its upward graze, and I was so sensitive already that my eyes rolled back. So worked up that I moved my hips against the feeling the next time she did it, because, when it came down to it, she didn’t even have to enter me to make me finish. It had always been so easy for her. Still, she did it a few more times, grinding the tension out of my muscles while coating the dildo with the abundant moisture between my legs.

She didn’t say anything when she was ready to try again, but I felt her hips lift and reposition, while at the same time her lips met mine for a distraction. It took her a second to find the exact placement at my entrance, and then she removed her hand to rest on both elbows, and she began to push. She never faltered in the way she was kissing me as she sank forward, but it was so gradual that there was no way she wasn’t focusing on what she was doing. For every inch she entered me, she paused, letting me adjust to the unfamiliar stretch before going any farther. Giving me a chance to change my mind or say I didn’t like it.

And it was a stretch, but she’d done such a thorough job of getting me worked up, of making me miss her fingers, that my body didn’t care. I was so grateful for the return of contact that the slight sting of pressure as she filled me didn’t matter. I could feel my inner muscles clenching around the shaft every time she moved, as if to encourage and accommodate for that increase of depth, and each time she paused, I pulsed with the need for more. Before I realized it, Genevieve was done. Her hips were pressed flush against mine, and she stopped kissing me and lifted onto her hands to meet my gaze.

“Does it hurt?” she asked, pressing a peck to the edge of my lips. I shook my head, smiling as she continued to plant a series of kisses around my mouth. “Are you comfortable?”

I took a moment to consider how it all felt. It was a girth unlike anything I’d ever experienced, and the pressure of the stretch was a completely different kind of feeling compared to the ease and dexterity of Genevieve’s fingers, but everything else was familiar. The warmth of her body over mine, the tickle of her lips on my face, the curve of her waist under my hands. I nodded.

“Okay,” she said, and she was already buried to the base, but she rocked forward with her hips, pulsing briefly as far as she could.

It hit some deep spot inside me that had never even been grazed before. Some spot I never knew was there, but that felt so unexpectedly fucking good it knocked the breath out of me. I sucked in a heavy gasp as the pleasure shot into my chest, and while my muscles fluttered with wild reception around the length buried inside me, I let that breath out in a laughed, “Holy shit.”

Her lips curled at my positive response, and she pulled out just enough so she could ease into me again. No matter how slow it was, she hit that same spot, and my body reacted even better than it had the first time. My eyes lidded as I drew in a stunted breath, I clenched hard and repeatedly around the length, and the pleasure didn’t just linger. She immediately began withdrawing again, so the sensation fed the building pleasure radiating at my core.

“Let me know if you want me to change it up,” Genevieve said as she buried into me, dipping down just enough to whisper in my ear. “Faster.” And she pulled out less than she had before, immediately driving forward to give a few short thrusts that sent stars shooting behind my eyes. “Slower.” On the next reverse draw she eased on the tempo, pulling out to the tip and then sinking in to the hilt at such an agonizingly gradual pace that every second it took was another second of the pleased hum drawn from my throat. She stayed there for a moment when she bottomed out, pressing a wet kiss to my earlobe before murmuring, “Deeper,” and rocking down hard. It forced another involuntary gasp into my lungs, and I could hear the smile in her voice as she mused, “I think I found a sweet spot.”

I couldn’t come up with any kind of response. Couldn’t even form the thoughts to come up with a response, so all I did was turn my head and catch her lips. The moment our mouths met, she started an easy rhythm with her hips, drawing out only halfway and then sinking back in. But it didn’t make a difference how slow and gentle it was. When she buried into me, she pushed that extra distance, grinding the tip into that deep spot at my core every single time.

I couldn’t stop the low moans I sent vibrating along her tongue whenever her hips met mine, or how my hands started to roam. They ran up her back, pressing at the slender lines of muscle to feel how they moved each time she rolled her hips, to feel the clench in them when she strained to enter me as deeply as she could, and that mirrored the way my own muscles tightened around the shaft. They slipped down her back, past her hips to grab the flesh of her perfectly shaped ass. I relished the feeling of how those muscles squeezed beneath my palms with every movement she made, and every time she bottomed out, I couldn’t keep from grasping even tighter. Couldn’t keep from tugging her harder against me to take her that much deeper. To keep her planted there firmly and for just that one second longer, and it still wasn’t enough.

My own hips stirred to life, and the first time I matched a soft thrust of hers, it felt so good, drew such a loud moan from my lips that I left her mouth to throw my head back. My back arched, fingers digging hard into her skin because this was one of the most amazing things I’d ever felt. Especially when she braced herself on one arm while her other hand slid up my ribs. The rhythm never faltered as her slender fingers shifted course, working around my side and under my back so she could unclasp my bra. I let her slip it down my arms to remove it as her lips touched down at my neck, but they didn’t stay there. They kissed a lazy trail down the column of my throat, outward along my collarbone and then back in. Down the swell the arch in my back created at the center of my chest, and then sideways up the curve of a breast.

Her mouth circled wide, planting wet, open kisses in a tightening spiral around the hardened center while my breathing stunted with a torturous mix of pleasure and anticipation. It felt like ages before she finally reached her destination, dragging her firm tongue over my nipple so I felt the smooth texture of it the entire way, and then she ended with a teasing flick from the tip. I whimpered with need as one of my hands flew to her head, setting at the base of her skull because I needed contact. I needed more, and it was such a relief that she listened. She sealed her lips around the stiff flesh, sucking gently while her hand set on the other breast, so she could touch me in ways that made me so painfully aware of the building heat in every cell of my body.

Every time our hips met, the tension low in my stomach tightened a little more, forcing another whimper or moan from my lips. I was already getting so close, and everything she was doing felt so damn good that I didn’t want to wait. I didn’t want to delay the unfamiliarity of a climax with Genevieve buried so deep inside me, because if it was even half as good as the way it felt to have her rocking into me then I needed it now. So I worked my free hand into the small space between us, aiming to touch myself so I could finish that much faster, but the moment Genevieve realized what I was going for, she released a protesting hum against my breast.

And she reached for my hand, guiding it upward while she took my hand against her neck with her other to do the same, until both were pinned above my head. “I know you don’t need that to finish,” she said, threading our fingers together and moving up to kiss beneath my jaw.

Only, without propping herself on her elbows she was lying flush against me, and somehow the weight of her let her push even deeper. The moment she thrust again she hit the perfect spot, and I let out a high-pitched moan, feeling myself thrown to the edge in the matter of an instant. If my hands were still on her I’d have grabbed her tight, locked her against me to keep her buried there because the moment she retreated even a little I lost sight of the end. All I had were my legs. So my knees cradled her hips as my calves wrapped around the backs of her thighs, and she didn’t try to keep me from using them to pull her into me. To hold her in that deepest position within me so all she could do was pulse against that spot.

It was so much. God, I was right there, and now I didn’t know if I should’ve taken my time, because I wasn’t even coming yet and I was overwhelmed. Completely consumed with how it felt every time she rocked her hips, or how the movement traveled up her body so I could feel the roll of it in her chest, pressed tight against mine. Entirely preoccupied with how the back of her looked when I lifted my head, with the sight of my legs wrapped around her pumping hips and feeling the result of it every time.

Her lips found my ear, and she pressed one gentle kiss to it before whispering, “Come for me, Echo.”

There wasn’t a single thing I could do to stop it, or to suppress the loud shout that burst from my lungs as the pleasure reached a peak. My back arched even more as every sensation in my body narrowed to the length buried inside me. I clenched and throbbed in waves so heavy they traveled up my spine, into my limbs so my toes curled and my fingers squeezed around Genevieve’s. The tensing of every muscle in my body stopped my breathing for seconds at a time, cut my yell off into breathless moans that were fueled by every fresh gulp of air I managed to take. And the unrelenting pressure of her inside me kept me riding on it without end. Every time she pulsed forward, it sent me into new set of trembling aftershocks.

When it ended, I went limp. My legs fell from her hips and my hands were weak in hers, and I was panting for air. Genevieve planted slow, soft pecks to my face and neck while she unlaced her fingers from mine, shifting to support herself on her elbows so she could look down at me. The movement adjusted her position within me, sending one last spasm through my core that drew a satisfied hum from my lips.

“That was…” I mumbled, unable to keep my eyes open for longer than a couple seconds. I couldn’t find the words. “Fuck.”

“I’m glad,” Genevieve laughed, nudging her nose against mine. “Want me to keep going, or do you need a minute?”

I could barely move, and I wasn’t entirely convinced another immediate orgasm of that magnitude wouldn’t make me pass out. “I need a minute.”

She gave an amused nod, burying her face in my neck to nuzzle into me while I recovered, but it was only a few seconds before she prompted, “Echo?” I gave a weak but curious hum. “Will you do something for me, when you’re ready to go again?” I made another curious noise, and it took her a moment to meet my gaze and ask, “…Will you get on top?”

My eyebrows furrowed with surprise at the request, because that wasn’t the type of thing I usually did. Positions like that were… vulnerable, and I’d never once been on top while receiving because, oddly enough, it felt submissive, and that was Genevieve’s thing. But… we were experimenting, right? And she had experience with this kind of stuff and I did trust her…

She gave a reassuring smile in preparation for my decline. “I know it’s kind of out of your comf-”

“I’ll do it,” I interrupted.

Her eyes lit up. “Really?”

I nodded, reaching down to give her hips a nudge. She took the hint and began pulling out of me, and I was still sensitive enough that my eyes grew heavy with the movement. The moment she was out, she dropped down at my side, flopping onto her back with that fake flesh sticking straight into the air. I gathered my strength to get up, and swung a leg over her so I could sit astride her hips. This was so new to me that I wasn’t sure what the protocol was, and I decided I should just do it before I gave those nerves a chance to come back at just how out of my comfort zone this really was.

I lifted off of her enough to reach under me and line the tip up with my entrance, and then I began to sit back again. Now that I was used to it, taking it in was a lot smoother than it had been the first time, and despite my reservations about doing this, my body was relieved to be filled again. But then I sat all the way, and oh my god this position was even better than when Genevieve had been lying flat against me, because it put more constant pressure on that sweet spot than I’d felt yet. As I settled my weight on top of her, that pressure melted away any sluggishness I had left. A euphoric sigh escaped my lips, and I was so damn prepared to go again.

“You knew it would feel like this,” I breathed in realization, and she hummed a confirmation as her hands slid up my thighs to my hips, urging them to move. I didn’t need the encouragement. I rocked forward, letting the motion roll through me so I could start establishing a rhythm. Only, the moment I did, Genevieve’s eyes widened enough that I froze. “What?”

“Don’t stop,” she said with a hint of pleading in her voice, and when I let her hands guide me back into motion, her eyes wandered along my torso. It took her a long few seconds to whisper, “Holy shit, Echo.” Her hand replaced the path of her eyes, tracing up my stomach as her gaze lifted to mine. “I’ve never seen you move your hips like that.”

Genevieve had never been good at giving compliments, or at expressing certain feelings, but I knew exactly what that meant. I could see the resulting desire on her face, and I was already self-conscious enough in this position without making her feel like that. And it wasn’t just the position I was in… this movement, the implication that she found what I was doing sexy, it spoke to the rare but lingering remnants of timidity I had left from an old life. It made my cheeks flare. But despite that timidity and the self-consciousness, this felt far too good and I felt far too comfortable with Genevieve to stop.

I dropped forward, setting my palms against the bed on either side of her head and kissing her hard. I hadn’t stopped rolling my hips, and Genevieve’s picked up a rhythm beneath me to match my own. Even more, her hands guiding my movements increased in pressure, grasping and holding me down every time our hips met because she already knew how much I loved it.

After my first climax, the rest always came so easy, and I was already teetering on the edge of bliss. Every second I rode that edge was euphoric torture. I could feel myself getting tight – the muscles of my abs clenching around the building tension between my hips, and the muscles of my core clamping down on the length buried inside me to get that much more out of every thrust. All it would take was a nudge, and Genevieve knew me so well. While her right hand stayed near my waist to feel the motion of my body, her left wandered away and between us. Her thumb found my clit, and she pressed down with the pad of it to follow the cadence of our bodies, earning the desperate moan I released into her mouth.

The sound pooled through my chest, spreading warmth downward until it reached her thumb, and it ignited. All at once I was there, coming so hard that I couldn’t have stayed bent over to kiss her even if I tried. I straightened, only to have to grab Genevieve’s thighs to keep from collapsing backward when my head lulled back with lack of strength. Lack of focus, because I couldn’t concentrate on anything past the deafening moan I gifted the ceiling and the enraptured pulsing at my center. I couldn’t keep moving my hips because every muscle except the fluttering ones at my core had seized, but Genevieve did it for me. She kept grinding into me as best she could while her thumb continued painting easy circles, drawing this out for as long as she possibly could.

Fuck if it didn’t last even longer than the first. I fell through wave after wave, diminishing in strength and frequency until I literally had nothing left to give. Until not even Genevieve’s finger could work another spasm out of me. I collapsed forward onto her with an exhausted sigh, breathing deep and slow to try and recover.

Genevieve let me lay there for a minute in content silence before her hands ran up my back. “You going one more time?”

I hummed, collecting strength to try and speak. “Not if you want me to be able to return the favor,” I answered weakly.

Genevieve laughed, caressing my back for another silent minute. It felt so good to lie on her, and the way she was touching me was relaxing. When I didn’t so much as make a noise after that minute, she scolded, “Don’t you fall asleep.”

“Okay,” I chuckled, pushing onto my hands to peck her on the cheek and then rising the rest of the way.

Part 2 >>>