Chapter Text
Paige throws the bag of money into the backseat as Azzi slips into the passenger side, eyes gleaming with a wild, unrestrained joy. She’s so beautiful like this, Paige thinks, with a private kind of pride. As if she’d had a hand in making her.
She drops into the driver’s seat and turns the engine on before she’s even finished slamming the door shut.
And then they’re off.
The engine roars under the strain Paige is putting on it, and she swerves violently down streets at random as sirens wail in the distance. The cars beside them are a blur, rain streaking down their windows from the outside.
Azzi is on her immediately, hand reaching across to stroke Paige’s cheek as she leans over the center console. Paige glances over, recognizing the simmering heat in Azzi’s gaze, and knows she’s in for it. Her heart thumps in response, twin pulls of want and responsibility tearing at her chest from the inside.
“Good job, baby,” Azzi murmurs, nose pressing against Paige’s cheek.
“Yeah?” Paige asks, grinning as she slams on the gas.
She knows where Azzi’s taking this, and feels herself being pulled in by the hand, unable to say anything but yes.
“Mhm.” Azzi’s fingers press lightly against her chin, and she kisses Paige’s cheek. “My strong girl. My scary girl.”
Paige’s heart is thundering for reasons completely unrelated to the fucking crime they just committed. Azzi’s affection hits her like a current of electricity, forcing every hair along her arms to stand at attention.
Azzi kisses her again, quick little pecks against her cheek that start trailing down to her jaw. She moves her hand to Paige’s neck and tilts to fit her warm lips against it too.
Paige’s breath stutters as she feels Azzi’s tongue lick a stripe across the side of her neck, teeth scraping down the same path a heartbeat later. She tightens her hands on the steering wheel, flicking her gaze desperately from mirror to mirror, willing herself to comprehend the blurred images they catch.
But she’s slipping. It’s hard to focus on anything else when Azzi wants something. Especially when that something is Paige herself.
Azzi’s sucking her neck now, and Paige is certain there are going to be red marks there by the time she’s finished. She adds pressure to the gas pedal, zigzagging recklessly down slippery streets and past bewildered commuters. All the while, the noise of Azzi’s mouth against her skin fills her ears.
“Baby…” Paige whines, shifting her thighs against the slick building between them. “Please.”
Azzi catches the movement instantly, like a cat pouncing on prey. She drops her hand from Paige’s neck, sliding it between her thighs instead. “Hm?”
Paige swerves, barely missing a car in front of them. Azzi is thrown back, unrestrained by a seatbelt, hand slipping from between Paige’s thighs.
Paige’s heart drops. “I’m sorry,” she blurts, reaching for Azzi’s face, sliding her fingers into her hair as her thumb strokes her ear. “I’m sorry, baby.”
The sirens sound louder now. Paige checks the rearview mirror, desperately searching for any sign of red and blue lights.
“Maybe we should split up,” Azzi suggests.
She’s teasing, trying to get under Paige’s skin, and it works. The notion alone is enough to spark Paige’s anger.
“Don’t even joke about that, baby,” Paige snaps, gritting her teeth and drawing her hand back to the wheel. “You know I’m not letting you out of my sight.”
Azzi laughs, settling back into her seat and placing her hand back on Paige’s thigh.
They’d only almost been caught twice.
The first was a couple years ago. Paige had followed Azzi out of a bank just as the cops were arriving. Azzi had done a double take when she’d looked at her, eyes flashing with concern.
“Your hat, Paige!”
It was an old Dallas Mavericks hat. A keepsake from her dad after he’d passed away that had been knocked off Paige’s head in their rush to escape.
“Just go!” Paige had yelled, but it was too late. Azzi was already sprinting back into the bank. She’d known exactly what the hat meant to Paige.
They’d only escaped because Paige dragged Azzi into an alley and behind a dumpster, the cops sprinting past without a second glance.
The second time was worse. Much worse.
The conversation had been short. Paige begging Azzi to hide. Azzi slipping into the street before Paige could stop her. She’d drawn the cops away, buying Paige time to escape and stash the money.
They’d been separated for three days. The absolute worst three days of Paige’s life.
On the second day, an unknown number texted her a meeting spot. Paige had known immediately it was Azzi.
She’d all but crushed Azzi in her arms during their reunion, clutching her close like she could melt their skin together with intention alone so they would never be separated again. Seeing Azzi safe and sound had allowed her to exhale for the first time since they got separated.
She wasn’t sure her lungs could take a second time.
They take a tunnel now, Paige swerving into the oncoming traffic lane at every opportunity to get ahead of the cars in front of them. Azzi tells Paige an address, and Paige nods, already mapping the route in her head.
The sirens are distant as they exit the tunnel, fading until Paige can’t hear them at all. Azzi reaches into the backseat, taking a wad of cash from the black bag. She pulls out a blank envelope from the glove box, slipping the cash inside before sealing it with a quick lick.
They’re approaching the outskirts of the city now, the streets narrowing and cars becoming sparse. Azzi leans over, resting her head on Paige’s shoulder, slipping her hand under Paige’s shirt.
“You okay, baby?” Azzi asks, fingers brushing Paige’s stomach, dipping in and out of her waistband. Paige sucks her bottom lip between her teeth, wishing they weren’t flying down the street at over 90 mph and Azzi could go lower.
“Yeah,” Paige says. “We’re almost there.”
Minutes later, Paige pulls over at the cross street Azzi named. Azzi climbs out nimbly, envelope in hand, jogging toward an unassuming building.
It must be a food bank or a shelter. Paige doesn’t know. They never talk about it. It’s something Azzi plans on her own. And yet she only does it because of Paige—or rather, for Paige.
An offering to the little girl Paige used to be, who gave her lunch leftovers to the kids who forgot theirs.
Paige never asks Azzi to do it, never needs a reason to do something other than that Azzi wants her to. But Azzi does it anyway because she knows it makes Paige feel good. Good in a part of her brain that doesn’t get high on adrenaline or buzzed off the feel of Azzi’s skin under her hands.
Good in the only part of her left that’s pure.
Azzi is jogging back now, and the second she’s in her seat and the door slams shut, Paige has them speeding down the street again, turning the beige buildings of the suburbs blurry in their peripheral.
They drive until buildings give way to farms, little signs stuck into the dirt advertising hazelnuts and berries by the pound. Azzi leans against Paige’s shoulder again, hand stroking the underside of Paige’s arm while she drives. Heat is still strung tight through Paige’s core, and she presses a little harder on the gas, intent on getting them to the good part.
She turns off the highway onto an unpaved road, taking them a mile down dirt and dust, then swerves into yellow grass and parks under a gnarled tree.
The engine is barely off before she’s leaping at Azzi, their mouths meeting hot and desperate for each other. She moans into Azzi’s mouth as Azzi unzips her jeans with practiced ease. Paige slips her arms under Azzi’s ass, lifting her onto the center console. Azzi giggles and crawls backward into the back seat, Paige following close behind.
Paige leans in to join their lips once more, but just as she’s close enough to share breath, Azzi pushes her down into the seat, climbing into her lap.
Paige grins up at her, running her hands up her thighs until they reach her ass, squeezing the muscle there. The look in Azzi’s eyes is dark. She always gets like this—a little wild with hunger whenever Paige redemonstrates just how far she’s willing to go.
Azzi grips Paige’s jaw, leaning down to lick into her mouth before pulling away again. She looks at Paige with a familiar kind of pride—pleased and reverent. Paige turns her head, glancing at the seat beside them. The bag of money and guns are splayed haphazardly on the seats, having slid around while Paige was driving, bills spilling across the seat and floor.
“What we gonna buy for you with all this cash, baby?” Paige asks, eyeing the money with a smug grin.
Azzi reaches down, picking up her gun and using it to tilt Paige’s head back up. “Look at me,” she demands.
Paige knows the safety’s on, but she thinks briefly, wildly, that she wouldn’t mind this being the last thing she sees: Azzi above her, beautiful and dangerous and fucking perfect.
Paige pulls her in, kissing her neck.
“I’m looking,” she murmurs into Azzi’s skin before sucking it sharply between her lips.
Azzi gasps, wrapping her arms around Paige’s shoulders, the gun pressing cold against her back. It feels like a metaphor for Azzi herself. Thrilling and dangerous. Undeniable. Paige feels a ripple of heat travel through her as she remembers with a swollen sense of satisfaction that Azzi is all hers.
She slips her hands underneath Azzi’s skirt. “Fuck,” Paige groans, head falling back against the headrest. Azzi grins, all too proud of herself. “You’re not wearing anything under?”
“Must’ve forgot,” Azzi lies. Her dimples flash at Paige, as if daring her to do something about it.
Paige lifts Azzi abruptly, turning them and laying her down atop the money. Loose bills flutter into the air at the sudden movement. Azzi looks beautiful with the green paper fanned out beneath her, and Paige feels a rush of affection so strong it tastes like anger.
“Every damn person at that bank wanted you,” Paige growls, rucking up Azzi’s skirt. Azzi giggles, delighted by Paige’s blatant jealousy. “You’re mine.”
Azzi bites her lip, smirking. “Am I?”
Paige almost gawks at her—Azzi would never let her tease her in the same way. But then the image of the man from the bank flashes through her mind, and rage floods her nervous system once again.
“Mine,” Paige repeats darkly, then slams her mouth against Azzi’s and presses her fingers between her folds. “Damn,” Paige breathes, pulling away after a second. “You’re fucking dripping, baby.”
Azzi whines, pulling Paige’s face back down to hers. She’s still holding the gun, the cool metal pressing against Paige’s spine.
Paige works her fingers up and down, massaging around Azzi’s entrance. Azzi squirms underneath her, face screwed up in pleasure and frustration.
“This is mine too, huh?” Paige teases, looking down to watch the way her fingers shine as they gather Azzi’s slick. “Wet just for me."
Azzi moans, eyes rolling closed. “Yes, baby.”
“Wish they could see this,” Paige continues. “Wish they could see what I do to you. I’m the only one who gets you like this. They couldn’t even do it in their dreams.”
Azzi nods fervently and Paige leans down, licking a stripe up Azzi’s neck as her fingers move up to circle lightly against her clit. Azzi shivers beneath her.
“Fuck,” Azzi whispers. She opens her eyes, pressing the hand holding the gun against Paige’s face. Her face is serious, layered over with heat and determination. “I need you inside,” she demands.
Paige slips her fingers in before Azzi finishes speaking, grinning as Azzi’s head tips back against the duffel, back arching with a moan. She’s soaking wet, and Paige’s finger slides in with no resistance, stroking her deep immediately. Azzi unravels, filling the car with her moans and rocking her hips against Paige’s hand.
She reaches down, tugging Paige’s shirt up before holding it there with the gun. The metal is cold against Paige’s stomach, and she inhales sharply at the feeling as Azzi slips her free hand into her boxers.
“Oh, God,” Paige groans as Azzi’s fingers find where she’s wet and aching.
“Yeah?” Azzi murmurs, brows arched in faux curiosity. “You want it, baby?” She draws her fingers up in a slick line against Paige’s entrance, deliberately teasing.
“Yes,” Paige sighs, hips rocking, seeking friction. “Can you fuck me? Please, baby.”
She pumps her fingers inside Azzi, trying to remind her just how good she’s been today. Azzi’s mouth drops open in a stuttered moan.
With a sharp inhale, Azzi slips her fingers inside at the same time she lets her legs fall open, inviting Paige deeper. Her mouth stays parted, plush lips wrapped around sweet moans that Paige breathes into her lungs.
They fuck rough, fingers driving deep at a punishing pace. Paige has been wound tight for hours now, and she feels herself climbing steadily towards climax, pumping her fingers harder, determined to make Azzi cum first.
Azzi seems to have the same idea, rolling the heel of her palm against Paige’s clit and pressing the gun more firmly into her side.
“I love you,” Paige whispers, without really meaning to. Azzi just looks ethereal like this, the dappled gold of post-rain sunlight kissing her brown skin bronze through the car windows. She’s an angel wrapped in sin, and Paige would follow her straight to Hell.
Azzi tilts her chin up expectantly, and Paige leans down to slot their lips together in a messy, heated kiss. Azzi wraps her arm around Paige, the cool metal a sharp contrast to the warm skin of her back.
“Come on, baby,” she murmurs against Paige’s lips. “Cum for me.”
As much as Paige wants Azzi to finish first, there’s nothing she can do to fight the way her body wants to obey.
The line of tension in her snaps with a burst of pleasure, sending heat rippling throughout her body as she gives Azzi exactly what she wants, again. Azzi smiles, pressing a quick kiss to her lips as Paige shudders through the aftershocks.
“Good girl,” Azzi coos. Then she smirks, a devious gleam shining in her eyes. Paige’s heart freezes in anticipation. “Wanna ride your fingers,” Azzi says.
Then she’s pushing Paige back into the seat and climbing into her lap, grabbing Paige’s hand and guiding it back inside of her.
Paige watches, enthralled, as Azzi sinks down on her fingers, taking them so well, rolling her hips with finesse and expertise. She starts speeding up, using the gun once more to tilt Paige’s chin up.
“You like watching me fuck myself on your fingers?” Azzi asks, smirking.
Paige shifts her thumb to rub slick against Azzi’s clit as she grinds down, soaking in the way Azzi’s eyes flutter shut at the sensation.
“Yeah,” Paige breathes. “You’re so sexy, baby. Take what you need.”
Azzi grins and leans forward, hips pressing down harder. She drags the side of the gun along Paige’s cheek, her smile sharp and self-satisfied, making Paige’s skin buzz with electricity.
“I don’t have to,” Azzi says. “You’d give me anything.”
Paige grins back, curling her fingers inside Azzi ruthlessly, as Azzi collapses forward in pleasure. “Yeah,” she agrees. “I would.”
Azzi answers her with a long, drawn out moan, hips stuttering. She’s close now, so wet that Paige’s hand is dripping her slick on to her pants. She slips a third finger in, and Azzi erupts in a groan, head falling back as her hips rock desperately.
It doesn’t take long. Paige uses her hands the way years of loving Azzi have taught her to, until Azzi is cumming with Paige’s name on her lips. She slumps against Paige’s shoulder for a breath before crawling off of her lap.
“Get this off,” Azzi demands, tugging at Paige’s pants and boxers.
When Paige is stripped waist down, Azzi arranges her legs open and out of the way. Paige’s back is pressed up against the car door as she watches Azzi kneel on top of the scattered green bills and bring her smirking mouth down on to Paige’s waiting cunt.
“Fuck,” Paige groans when Azzi licks a long, wet stripe across her entrance.
Azzi licks her slowly, building her back up leisurely and patiently. She dips her tongue in, and Paige feels every millimeter of the warm muscle slipping inside of her. It’s a sensation she never tires of, and combined with the sight of Azzi sprawled atop their money, it almost tips her over the edge again.
Azzi moans as she fucks Paige with her tongue, and Paige rests a hand against her head, thumb stroking through her hair as she presses her closer, ever so slightly.
“You’re doing so good,” Paige murmurs. “So fucking hot. My baby. Fuck.”
Azzi shifts up to lick warm and wet against Paige’s clit, then sucks it gently between her lips. Paige tilts her head against the car window with a moan. Azzi sucks a little harder, swirling her tongue, and Paige cums with a shudder against her face.
“Oh my God,” Paige moans, her hand gripping tight in Azzi’s hair.
With a soft kitten lick against where Paige is now sensitive and raw, Azzi sits back up on top of the money.
“C’mere,” Paige says, and Azzi crawls back into her lap, kissing her sweetly.
They linger there, kissing and touching, gentle hands stroking down sweat-slicked skin as they come down from their mutual highs. Paige pulls back occasionally, just to admire her, but she only gets a few seconds before Azzi gets impatient and tugs her back.
Eventually, Paige pulls her boxers and pants back on, and Azzi smooths her skirt back down her legs. As Paige buttons up her pants, Azzi studies her, considering.
“I want this,” she says, tugging at Paige’s hoodie.
They make their way back to the front of the car. Paige turns on the engine, flicking her gaze to the fuel gauge. “Need to get gas,” she tells Azzi.
“Okay,” Azzi says sleepily. She looks so sweet, wrapped up in Paige’s hoodie, knees pulled to her chest as she leans sideways against the seat, that Paige has to lean over and kiss her deeply. Azzi smiles against her mouth when they part.
It takes awhile before they come across a gas station. When they do, it’s all but empty—just a single truck with a young man in a cowboy hat filling up. Azzi stays in the car, as she always does, while Paige goes inside to pay. On her way, her eyes catch on a shiny wrapper.
She buys the chocolate—Azzi loves to be reminded of the first time she convinced Paige to be naughty—and enough to fill her tank at the counter. The girl behind it is young and bored, but she looks at Paige with a flicker of interest in her eyes.
“I like your shirt,” she says, as Paige hands over the bills.
Paige looks down. It’s a plain white shirt.
“Thanks,” she replies tersely, thinking vaguely that the girl’s lucky Azzi wasn’t around to hear it.
“What brings you into town?”
It’s a fair question. They’re in the middle of nowhere. Still, Paige knows the girl doesn’t give a fuck what she’s doing in town. She’s been ogling Paige’s arms for the past 30 seconds.
“Not much,” Paige answers, taking her change. “Pickin’ up a gift for the Mrs.”
It’s always dangerous to acknowledge out loud, even to someone who’s clearly gay themselves. Rural Oregon isn’t forgiving, and if the wrong person overheard, she’d be painting a target on her back. But Paige has a gun. And a wife who would kill for her.
The cashier’s jaw drops, which is almost funny. Paige remembers what it felt like to have to be subtle. But being with Azzi makes her feel invincible. She hasn’t had that feeling in a long time.
She flashes a grin to the cashier that doesn’t reach her eyes. “Thanks,” she says, turning to leave.
As she approaches the double glass doors, she sees Azzi walking toward the store. She must’ve taken too long chatting with the cashier. They make eye contact through the glass, and Paige watches Azzi freeze, her expression tense. The automatic doors slide open, and Paige catches the tail end of a sentence.
“—spread those pretty little legs for me.”
Paige’s head snaps to the man in the cowboy hat. He’s leaning against his truck, arms and ankles crossed with casual arrogance. He hasn’t even noticed Paige, his gaze fixed plainly on the way Azzi’s legs emerge from underneath Paige’s hoodie, the fabric barely covering the swell of her ass. Her skirt is so short, less than an inch peaks out from beneath it.
Paige turns again, eyes meeting Azzi’s. One look is enough. She reads Azzi’s stoic face, gathers the instruction hidden beneath it, and walks to the car to retrieve her gun.
When they leave the gas station, Azzi’s jean-clad legs are propped up against the dash, the waist of them loose and gaping around her hips. She adjusts the cowboy hat on her head and waves lazily at the man sobbing in his boxers.
When Paige steps out of the motel bathroom, toweling her hair dry, Azzi is curled up on the bed, watching the local news on the tube TV.
“...robbed at gunpoint by two women between 5’9” and 5’11”. Police have been having trouble gaining any other details about the perpetrators’ appearance as witnesses have reportedly stated that, ‘they were just the most beautiful women you’ve ever seen.’ Despite the lack of leads there, officials believe this might be the work of the infamous Bank Heist Beauties.”
“Now, Dave, we’ve seen a lot of bank robberies that match the style of the one committed today…”
Paige tunes out the news broadcast, tossing the towel aggressively across the desk chair. “What the fuck?” she snaps, flicking an irritated glance at the TV. “I’m 6 foot. Fuck outta here, ‘5’11.’” She flops on to the bed beside Azzi, crossing her arms in petulance.
Azzi picks up the cowboy hat from where it’s been placed on the nightstand and sets it on Paige’s head. Paige stares at her, unimpressed.
“That guy was greasy as fuck, baby,” Paige deadpans. “I don’t need his hat.”
Azzi scoots closer, leaning on her elbow in a way that makes the angles of her shoulders look seductive. Or maybe Paige is just crazy about her. Two things can be true at once.
“It’s not his hat anymore,” Azzi says, lifting it and showing Paige the brim.
Drawn in careful pen, traced over and over until the felt has been indented with the lines of ink, is her name in all-caps.
PAIGE
Paige grins before she even realizes it, running a fingertip over the letters.
“Like it?” Azzi asks.
Paige looks at Azzi, her favorite sight in the whole world, before leaning over, tackling a giggling Azzi to the bed and sucking kisses into her neck. The hat tumbles off the bed with a little thump.
Suddenly, a high-pitched whine cuts through the air.
Both of them freeze, joy dropping off their faces in an instant. A second passes, and the unmistakable sound grows in volume.
Paige is up in a flash, shoving loose items into bags while Azzi leaps off the bed and peeks through the curtains. The sirens grow louder as they get steadily closer. Soon the lights will be visible from their window.
Paige grabs Azzi by the wrist, pulling her away from the window and pressing the duffel bag into her arms.
“Car’s parked 4 blocks away. Walk toward the trash bins, past the diner, and take two lefts and then a right. It’ll be in the alleyway in front of a black truck.”
“What are you talking about?” Azzi hisses.
“It’s tight,” she says, shoving the keys into Azzi’s hand. “Scratch up the car if you need to. Just get out as fast as you can.”
“I’m not leaving you,” Azzi snaps.
Paige sighs, taking in the sight of Azzi as best she can, like she’s trying to memorize it. She kisses her hard, cradling Azzi’s sweet face between her hands and licking furiously into her mouth, trying to imprint the taste of her on her tongue. Paige pulls back, horribly aware of how little time they have.
“I’m just gonna play with them a bit, baby,” Paige says softly, trying to convince Azzi. “I’ll be fine. Just need to give you a little head start.”
“What, on foot?” Azzi scoffs. “They’re going to catch you, Paige.”
“I’ll steal a car. We’ve done it before. Made it every time, didn’t we?” She’s pleading now, knowing their time is dwindling. “I’ll meet you in Dallas. Swear.”
Her eyes flick to the cowboy hat on the floor, and her stomach turns as she realizes where the police must’ve gotten the tip from. She picks up the hat and places it on top of the duffel bag resting in Azzi’s arms. “Bring this home for me, okay? Need’a wear my own hat in my own city.”
Azzi’s eyes fill with conflict and fear. She presses her trembling lips together. “You better fucking be there, Bueckers,” she whispers, voice shaking slightly even though Paige can tell she’s trying to be strong. “If I have to bust your ass out of jail, it won’t be pretty. For them.”
Paige smiles weakly. “I know, baby.”
Azzi shakes her head, as if Paige doesn’t understand. “I can’t do it without you,” she says, biting her bottom lip like she always does when she’s nervous. “You have to come back to me. You have to.”
Paige nods. “I will,” she murmurs, guiding Azzi to the door and tugging it open. “I promise, Az.”
Before she can let Azzi go, Paige pulls her back in, hands firm at her waist, and kisses her slow and deep. There’s no urgency this time, just certainty. When she finally pulls back, her forehead rests against Azzi’s, breath steady, eyes sure.
“Go,” Paige whispers. “Please, baby. I’ll meet you in Dallas.”
As Paige watches Azzi slip out of their room, she’s already figuring out a way to make it happen. Giving Azzi what she asks for is the only thing she’s ever been good at.
And she’s never fallen short.