Archive of Our Own

Cinder hates surprises. For the most part, anyways. Because as much as they can throw a wrench into things, make things go to shit in the blink of an eye, sometimes there comes along an opportunity that’s just too good to pass up, prepared or not.

She knows where the conversation’s going the moment it starts. A few honeyed words from Coco and a gaze of barely-contained desire she must’ve hoped dearly her aviators would hide tell Cinder all she needs to know. 

Their talk lasts longer than it needs to. Coco, for her part, Cinder surmises, not wanting to display the hunger her eyes betray, to give some small sense of propriety to it all before she poses her request.

Cinder’s not even entirely sure if she’ll indulge her at first. Flirting’s easy, she can do it in her sleep. Her “job” practically requires it. What sense is there in wasting time on elaborate schemes that may or may not succeed, when often all it takes to get someone alone is the words they want to hear and some batted eyelashes for good measure? 

That, however, is precisely part of her problem: she has decidedly less experience with what would usually come next. Rarely did she take an interest in any of them, and on the off occasion that she did, she still preferred not to mix business with pleasure. Better to keep her wits about her, complete her mission, and get out with the least risk possible.

And compounding the issue in regards to Coco specifically, precisely none of that latter category were women.

But when business is pleasure? Well, that changes things a bit. The Vytal festival is still a ways off, the rest of their major preparations are in place, and so her sole task at the moment more or less amounts to blending in with the rest of the students at Beacon and not getting caught. Taking Coco up on her offer would certainly be helpful to that end the moment the rumor mill caught wind of it, if Coco didn’t brag of her exploits personally first.

Of course, the fact that, experience or not, Coco’s absolutely stunning doesn’t influence her decision at all either.

For a moment, Cinder wonders how long Coco’ll continue as if they both don’t know exactly where it’s going. But that moment doesn’t last long. The air, or perhaps just Coco’s posture, shifts. She throws her one last knowing glance over the rim of her aviators, and Cinder has no problem guessing the utterly sinful thoughts swimming in her eyes.

She brings her glass to her lips, slowly, with purpose, downs the rest of it, eyes never breaking from Cinder’s. The exaggerated pop she releases it with, and the sly, amused grin she casts Cinder’s way immediately after, make Cinder’s mouth run dry.

She stands up and saunters off with an entirely unnecessary sway to her hips, and Cinder only realizes she’s staring when Coco calls "Coming?" over her shoulder with a wicked grin.

Normally this is where Cinder would make some cocky remark about Coco being a bit presumptuous, but there really isn’t any presuming to be had, not when her own body betrays her as it does.

She stumbles a little when she goes to stand, legs shakier than she remembers. Coco’s too busy walking away to have seen, a fact she praises the gods for. She regains her composure quickly, but doesn’t bother upping her pace to catch up with Coco. She’s not the desperate one here.

Coco’s not having any of it though. She slows her pace just enough for Cinder to catch up and says nothing otherwise. Just flashes a smirk and keeps walking. 

As they turn the corner to the upperclassmen dorms, she realizes this is her last chance to back out. And no shortage of reasons exist to do so, not the least of which being just how out of her depth she is. 

Looking at Coco though, only one response to that comes to mind: So what? First time for everything, right? Especially when Coco Adel is the one offering. She’s always liked to take pride in how she looks, but Coco puts her entirely to shame. Puts everyone to shame, really. She truly has no rival, none that Cinder’s been lucky enough to encounter personally at any rate. And if the worst she has to do to indulge herself is to step a bit out of her comfort zone? Well… who is she to complain.

Coco’s pace slows after a bit longer, nearing her dorm, Cinder guesses, and she’s proven right when Coco stops in front of a door no more or less innocuous-looking than any around it. She merely turns, observes Cinder, looks for any sign of hesitance, gives her her last chance to reconsider. 

When she refuses to back down, that’s all Coco needs. She cracks the door, and their hands are on each other before they’ve stepped through. Coco slings an arm around her back, pulling her close, and Cinder feels her breath hitch at the proximity. She’s hot all over, electricity crackling across her skin in the wake of Coco’s touch and a fire burning brighter within her with each passing moment. Coco’s breath, hot on her neck, only stokes the flames.

Her eyes drop to Coco’s full lips, lingering for a moment, imagining what they’d taste like, feel like on hers, on her breasts, on… 

Fuck , she’s wet already just thinking about it.

She can’t see Coco’s eyes now—the lighting’s different, and she can’t see past her aviators anymore. But she can still feel the intensity of Coco’s gaze boring into her.

They stop for a moment, observing each other, waiting to see who’ll make their move, who’ll pounce first. Then Coco’s lips clash with hers, claim hers, and she forgets how to breathe. 

She vaguely registers Coco kicking the door shut behind her, but she doesn’t relent. The kiss breaks momentarily, Coco wanting a breath and Cinder trying to remember how to get hers, and then her back is pressed to the door, Coco bearing down on her like a starved lioness. 

Coco’s hand shifts to her ass, and then she’s pressing even harder. She feels her tongue ghost over her lips, requesting a permission she’s not even given the chance to grant, not when a squeeze from Coco’s hand has her acquiescing whether she wants to or not.

Coco’s kiss is as brash, aggressive, domineering as the rest of her, and Cinder can’t help but crumple in its wake. Coco shifts a bit to brace her, hold her up where her own legs fail, but she doesn’t let up. She swears she sees stars in the corners of her eyes when Coco finally decides she needs to breathe, and she’s not even managed a full breath before Coco’s back on her.

She wants, desperately wants , to take some sort of control, but she knows it’s futile. Coco has her exactly where she wants her: back to the wall, knees weak, and positively yearning for now.

And oh how she yearns.

She hates it, hates how quickly every last bit of strength and willpower fall away from her, how every touch, every press of Coco’s lips, swipe of her tongue, all feed into a thirst they alone can never quench. And yet, when Coco threatens to pull back, she still presses forward, chasing the contact, unable to let it break.

But she fails, and Coco flashes a smirk for a quick second, and then her lips are on her neck, and Cinder loses whatever thoughts she had. She alternates, kissing, sucking, biting, and the only thing more maddening than the sensations is their randomness. Coco stops one, switches to the other, with no rhyme or reason, never the same place twice, and the edge of anticipation never quite goes away.

She hisses when Coco finally, properly, sinks her teeth in, and somewhere far in the back of her mind she knows there’s no way in hell it won’t bruise. But she can’t bring herself to care, not when Coco continues as she had without end in sight.

Then she starts to trail upwards, higher on her neck, along her jawline, back again, higher… She whines when Coco pulls away, can’t stop herself, and then Coco’s lips are hovering over her ear, and she can feel her breath, warm and heavy, lingering. Coco’s tongue darts out, tracing the shell of her ear, and she just barely manages not to mewl.

Coco stops again, and Cinder’s almost surprised when a soft voice reaches her, sweet as honey and absolutely brimming with desire. “Be honest with me babe, you ever been with a girl before?”

She knows it’s a rhetorical question, Coco’s already figured out the answer, but the honest words just won’t leave her mouth. So she scoffs and mumbles “Of course I have” like the liar she is.

But Coco’s shushing her before she’s even finished her thought, and she doesn’t give her a chance to continue. “Shh, don’t lie. It’s not hard to tell, y’know.”

There’s no judgment there, but she bristles all the same. A part of her still holds on to the idea that Coco’s only calling her bluff, seeing how she’ll react, that she doesn’t actually know anything. “How so?”

Coco doesn’t respond straight away, and Cinder can’t get a good look at anything besides the side of her face, but Coco’s kissing her again a moment later, and any guessing she may be doing dies where it stands.

When they part, Coco hums, nuzzles into her neck. “The way you kiss…”

Cinder feels her lips close on her pulse point, hisses when she sucks in.

“The fact that you haven’t moved your hands a single inch this entire time.” 

Coco digs her fingers in to illustrate her point, just enough to be slightly painful. Cinder gasps, more out of shock than anything else, but doesn’t find herself complaining.

“—You can touch me, you know.” Her voice is nothing short of amused, breathy, wanting, but not judging. 

Coco’s exaggerating, but she’s right though, and Cinder feels like an absolute idiot. All caught up in Coco’s touch, and just standing there like a brick herself.

Coco seems to catch what she’s feeling, the way her face softens, and she doesn’t let her dwell on it. She feels Coco’s hands gently grasp hers, snapping her out of her reverie, and lead them to the swell of her hips, and then farther back. Then there’s a leg pushing between hers, pressing up against her, holding her even more in place.

Coco’s lips are on her neck again, roaming hungrily, pure fire in their wake, they clamp down without warning. She shivers, clenches at the feeling, drawing a groan, low and wanting, from Coco. Coco grinds her leg upwards in turn, and the friction, even through her skirt, brief as it is, has her knees buckling.

Coco’s pleased hum reverberates through her skin, and then she’s pulled away, finally looking her in the eyes again. Or at least, Cinder assumes she is, Coco’s still wearing her damn sunglasses. Coco kisses her once more, but it’s different this time. Not hungry, not aggressive, but there for a reason nonetheless.

She’s not even given the chance to guess. Coco brings her thigh back up, presses it to her core, and she’s bucking, grinding against it before she can stop herself. Then it’s gone as quickly as it came, and Coco swallows the moan of frustration that’s dragged out of her. 

They part again, and Coco’s smirking this time, far too smug for her own good. “Needy, hm?”

She knows it won’t do her any good to respond, even if she could trust her voice.

But Coco doesn’t make her. Just chuckles softly to herself and continues: “Nothing to be ashamed of. That’s why we’re here…”

Coco’s thigh returns, and she inhales sharply at the still pressure, the anticipation.

“...right?”

“Yea—” she begins to mutter, and then Coco twitches her leg and she’s biting her tongue. “Yeah.”

Coco flashes a smile, genuine and reassuring on one hand, not bothering in the slightest to disguise her more primal feelings on the other. “Thought so.”

The air shifts again. She can’t pinpoint what’s caused it, exactly, and she gives up trying when Coco’s fingers start trailing up her thigh. The skin underneath them’s not even bare, and yet it burns, she burns, all the same. So tantalizingly slow, but they don’t meander, Coco doesn’t tease her. It’s no mystery where they’re headed, and she can feel her heart beating faster with each passing, aching moment.

Coco finally makes it to the waistband of her skirt, pops the button with a deft ease. Her breath hitches when Coco’s fingers broach the bare skin underneath, above the line of her panties. She’s back to kissing her neck, biting, sucking, in all the right places, and then her fingers are moving lower.

Coco’s touch ghosts over her core, just barely perceptible through the bit of fabric separating them, and it takes her a split-second to realize she’s biting her lip. Coco’s fingers slowly trace some pattern she’s quickly losing the willpower, the ability, to guess, and a particularly hard nip at her neck makes her lose it entirely.

Coco’s other hand moves to her top, pulls the first few buttons away, frees her shoulder, and she shivers at the cool air, at what’s to come. Then Coco’s lips’re moving lower, down the column of her neck, to her collar bone, tracing soft kisses along the way. She bites down, and Cinder’s whimpering before she can stop herself.

Coco stops, her fingers, her lips, but she’s kissing her again, properly kissing her, before she can complain. Then she feels her fingers pushing her panties aside, making their way underneath, and even the idle touch against such sensitive skin almost makes her writhe.

A lone, long stroke, a bite to her lower lip, and Coco’s swallowing the delighted, desperate moan that’s dragged out of her.

She needs more. Hungers for it. Yearns for it. She’s bucking her hips, grinding them for any bit of friction she can get, and she’s not even sure whether she’s doing it on purpose, but it all feels so good she can’t even-

She feels Coco pressing at her entrance, a warning, not a request. She still rasps “ Please ” either way, like her life depends on it, like she can’t live without it. 

Coco can only oblige. She can feel the smirk, smile, tugging at the edges of Coco’s lips, and then Coco’s pushing in, a single digit, and thoughts of anything else are ripped from her mind. 

She clutches at Coco harder, digs her fingers into her back enough for her to tense in response. Coco doesn’t waste any time. Gives her just long enough to adjust, and even then she’s experimenting, different strokes, different angles, curling her finger-

“ Fuck… ” 

Coco hums in appreciation, satisfaction, continues as she had, and Cinder swears she’s going to go mad. There’s no rhythm, no consistency to it, just one movement, then another, entirely different, and it feels good, but it’s not enough, nowhere near, and it’s so damn frustrating…

“ Coco. ” She hates how needy her voice sounds, how breathless she is. 

“Mm?” Coco doesn’t stop, doesn’t even move her lips from her neck. 

“Stop teasing,” she means to say, tries to say, but she only gets the first word out before Coco curls her finger at just the right spot, and she’s lost the capacity for words. Then Coco obeys her mangled request, stops dead in her tracks, and she’s surprised she manages not to scream.

Coco mutters an amused “What’s wrong?” against her skin, and it’s an entirely rhetorical question. She wants to respond, to say something, anything, for more, but she’s not even sure she can form words beyond Coco’s name, curses, and “please”, and she’s not about to beg more if she can help it.

Thankfully though, Coco doesn’t make her. She’s back almost as quick as she left, pressing with two fingers this time, and Cinder’s already biting her lip in anticipation. They meet no resistance, she’s far too worked up for that, and she keens when Coco buries them to the knuckle, the same when she pulls out, buries them again. Finally, she picks up a proper rhythm. Slow at first, but Cinder’s ready, beyond ready.

Coco can tell, of course she can, and thankfully, she seems intent on nothing more than indulging her. She picks up speed quickly, maybe quicker than she should, but Cinder can’t complain. Anything to quell the desire burning inside her.

But it doesn’t quell anything. Coco’s other hand starts roaming, pulling her closer, groping, kneading her ass. She pulls away from her neck, starts kissing her again, and Cinder can’t help but crumble the moment their lips collide. It’s not a battle, not one she can fight anyways, not with the pleasure radiating from her core threatening to drown out anything else.

Coco’s hand returns to her top, undoing more of its buttons, enough to free her chest, push it back over her shoulders, off her arms, and she’s cursing the fact that she ever decided to wear a bra. She reaches behind her, undoes the clasp one-handed like it’s a motion she’s done a thousand times—probably has —, slides it off just the same, and Cinder’s left aching even more, arching her back into nothing.

Then Coco breaks the kiss, trails downwards, over her jaw, her neck, collar bone, the top of her breast, her nipple… She whimpers, can’t bother trying to stop herself, and Coco’s lips close on it, she sucks, flicks her tongue, and fuck… Coco’s free hands moves to the other, and she rolls it under her thumb, tweaks it, curls the fingers inside her-

She can’t take it. It’s too much, and it’s not enough at the same time. It’s terrible, and it’s paradise. Blinding, but not enough to send her over the edge. Just barely. She still needs more, she needs-

The heel of Coco’s palm idly drags over her clit, and her hips are stuttering, bucking, seeking everything and nothing.

She feels Coco’s chuckle against her—it was on purpose, of course it was—, but it doesn’t happen again. Her clit aches , and Coco puts pressure everywhere— plays with her breasts, bites, presses and curls her fingers at all different angles— except where she needs it. 

“ Coco… ” She’s done with her pride, she whines Coco’s name, doesn’t bother to hide the emotions—the need, want, desire—behind it.

“Hm?” Coco doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow down, forces her to find the words through it all.

She can’t, but she still tries. “Fu- I- I need-”, and then Coco does the same damn thing she did last time, and Cinder’s cut off by her own moan.

But this time, Coco takes pity on her. Pulls back, looks her in the eyes. “I know you do, babe.”

Then she stops, pulls her fingers out without warning, and it’s only Coco pulling her close, clutching onto her, murmuring “Shh, I’ve got you” against her, that stops her from crying out.

Coco’s sinking to her knees before she has a chance to process anything, ask what, why, pulling her skirt down to her knees, her panties with it, and she still feels herself twinge at the thought of what comes next.

Coco doesn’t make her suffer any longer. Her hands move to the back of her thighs, to give herself some leverage, brace herself, both of them, and she dives in. The sight of Coco staring back up at her, face buried between her thighs, still wearing her beret and those damn sunglasses that she still can’t see past, does almost as much to her as the first, broad stroke of her tongue.

Coco centers on her clit almost immediately, and that alone’s almost all she needs. Her hips are pressing down, forward, bucking into Coco’s mouth, aching for more, and she pulls her arm up, clamps down on the skin on the back of her hand to maintain some semblance of quiet.

She’s not approaching the edge, she’s tumbling, barreling towards it head over heels, nothing she can do to stop it. Then Coco’s tongue stops, she closes her lips around her clit, sucks…

Her release finally washes— crashes —over her, blinding as it is powerful, and she’s seizing, twitching, hands grasping wildly for purchase, crying out Coco’s name, pleas and praises, and Coco just keeps going. Rides her through each and every aftershock like she could never force herself to. It’s overwhelming, bordering on unbearable, but she’s powerless to do anything but ride the storm.

It feels like ages before the world comes back into focus, before the euphoria fades and she’s no longer floating on a cloud. She’s a limp, exhausted mess, and she’s fairly certain Coco’s strong arms are the only reason she’s still standing. But the fire’s not dead. Dormant, smoldering, perhaps, yet it’s inching back, slowly but surely.

She’s laughing softly to herself before she even knows why. Coco looks to her curiously, questioning, and it takes her a moment to come up with an explanation, even for herself. 

“That was…” she starts, but her words fail her.

“Wonderful? Amazing?” Coco finishes for her. She pauses, waits, smile growing cockier by the moment. “Best you’ve ever had?”

She laughs again, because she can’t deny it. “Yes.”

Coco falters for the smallest of seconds, barely perceptible, but it strokes her pride regardless, knowing she managed to catch her off-guard.

The moment’s fleeting though, and Coco’s stupid, self-assured smirk is back in full force. “Believe me babe, there’s way more where that came from.”

And she doesn’t doubt for a moment that it’s true.

Coco cups her cheek soft and gentle. Unexpected, but she melts into it all the same. Coco leans in, presses their lips together, and it’s not harsh or aggressive either. Then the taste— her taste—hits her tongue, and she realizes that’s not the point. She can’t decide whether it’s gross or erotic, but Coco pulls away before she can dwell on it for long.

“In fact…” Coco mutters, trails off as she peels herself from her, starts walking towards the bed, and she feels naked without Coco pressed against her, has to prevent herself from reaching out, pulling her back. 

Coco pulls open the drawer of her nightstand, starts rummaging around inside. “I’ve got something I think you ’ll enjoy.” Finds whatever she’s looking for, pulls it out, adds, “If you’re up for it, of course,” as she turns around.

It takes her a moment to tell what it is. Some sort of black material, straps- a harness, and… Fuck , her mouth runs dry.

“Up for it?” Coco asks before she can get carried away in her imagination.

Yes, please, now, she wants to say, but the words stick in her throat. She nods fervently, as fervently as she can manage, instead.

Coco starts putting it on. Doesn’t make a show out of it, but she doesn’t have to. Cinder’s already thrumming with desire simply knowing what’s to come.

It’s entirely unfair, she thinks, how she’s almost completely naked, and yet Coco’s still not missing a single stitch of clothing—not even her damn aviators—, but fuck if the thought of being taken like that doesn’t do things to her.

Coco doesn’t take long. Of course she doesn’t, this isn’t exactly something new to her. She has the harness on quickly, adjusted to her liking mere moments later, and she stops only to place her beret gently on the nightstand—precisely why , Cinder can’t be bothered to guess—before she’s making her way back to her.

Coco cups her cheek again, kisses her, but it’s not soft this time. Not quite intense either though, not yet. Inching its way there, slowly but surely, and dragging the fire within her along with it.

They part, and Coco’s facade drops for just a moment. “Listen, if you need me to stop, slow down, if it gets uncomfortable, anything , tell me, alright?”

If she were the sappy type, she assumes Coco’s concern would be touching. But she supposes it’s still slightly reassuring if nothing else.

Coco doesn’t make a move though, she’s waiting for a response because why wouldn’t she be, and so she nods in understanding.

It’s enough, it would appear, because Coco’s back to kissing her, barring no holds. And once more, it’s a battle she can’t hope to win. She doesn’t even bother to try.

Coco slips an arm around her back, pulls her close, and then she’s spun around and pressed against the door. She barely has time to process it before Coco’s back on her, pressing kisses to her neck, shoulders, back…

“This okay?” Coco asks, whispers against her ear.

She swears, if Coco doesn’t stop being so damned concerned…

She nods, but Coco only hums, wanting a proper response.

“Yes…” she forces out, teeth gritted half in frustration.

Coco shifts behind her, presses their hips together, and she feels it sliding up against her, and it takes all her willpower not to start grinding against it then and there. It’s just so… erotic . There’s a certain sensuality to Coco’s soft caresses, her fingers, her tongue, even if that’s not quite the intent, but the same cannot be said for this. There’s something more primal about it, something more familiar to her, but still so different because it’s Coco…

Coco doesn’t torture her, doesn’t make her wait. Lines it up, and she feels it pressing at her entrance. Coco’s gentle though, naturally, pushes in slow, too slow. She can take it, this isn’t her first—

She gasps when the head pops in, pushes her hips back for more, but it doesn’t help. She reaches her hand back, latches onto the back of Coco’s thigh, clenches as Coco pushes deeper. Slow and steady, and she’s about to scream in frustration, anticipation, but then their hips meet, and she moans , unbidden. She’s not even sure if it’s the actual pleasure or just the idea, the image, knowing Coco’s buried to the hilt inside her, but fuck if she doesn’t love it either way.

Coco stays there for a moment, starts trailing kisses like before, but this time the sheer hunger radiating from them is undeniable. Of course Coco’s pent up, it only makes sense, logically, but feeling it for herself, the degree of utter ravaging she’s in for, she doesn’t know whether she should be quivering in terror or excitement.

Luckily, she’s not given much time to dwell on it. Coco starts a rhythm, if it can be called that, pressing in and out the slightest amount, but fuck, any movement that deep inside her is enough to make her whimper. 

She doesn’t miss the short, quiet chuckle from Coco, can’t miss how Coco starts gradually lengthening each thrust, dragging just a bit farther out each time. It’s slow, but it doesn’t need to be fast, not yet. The drag along her inner walls, the growing contrast between the fullness and emptiness, Coco meeting her hips each and every time , it’s all more than enough. For now.

Coco snakes her right hand around in front of her, cups her opposite cheek, mutters, “Look at me.” It’s not a demand, but she promptly obeys nonetheless. It’s awkward to manage from her position, strains her back and neck, but she stops paying the discomfort any mind when Coco’s lips enrapture hers. Coco’s straining too, she can tell, but it’s still no less intense than she’d expect otherwise.

Coco’s hips don’t falter though. Soon she’s pulling out almost all the way, pressing back in just as far, over and over, and fuck if it’s not wonderful. But she’s still being so damn slow and soft about it.

She needs more . Clenches the hand still on Coco’s thigh, bites down on Coco’s lower lip the moment they’re done coming up for air. Coco groans in delight, almost seems pleased, throws a stutter into her rhythm, follows it up with a particularly hard thrust that makes her vision go white for a moment. She seems hesitant on the next one though, like she can’t tell if it was too much.

Maybe it was, but she’s not complaining. “Don’t you dare st—” she commands, tries to command, but Coco doesn’t have to let her finish her thought to get the point. She’s cut off by another thrust harder than the first, and Coco only laughs at her response, the way she twitches, seizes, the moan that’s forced out of her.

“You were saying?”

Normally, she’d glare daggers in response to a comment like that, but she’s really not in the position to manage it, especially when Coco starts kissing her again.

Coco doesn’t ignore what she said though. Sets a new pace, faster now that she’s able to take it. Not quite as harsh, but far more intense. She’s a whimpering, pleading mess before she can help it.

A bite to her neck, another certain to bruise, grounds her momentarily. A hand leaves her hips, trails upwards, over her stomach, up to her breasts. Starts hungrily kneading one, then the other. Takes a nipple, rolls it between deft fingers. All the while Coco’s mouth doesn’t stop, her hips don’t falter, and Cinder’s quickly losing the ability to concentrate on anything.

As if to illustrate the point, Coco sinks her teeth in again, pinches with her fingers, both as their hips collide once again, and it’s by a hair’s breadth that she stops herself from screaming. She feels Coco’s lips widen into a smile against her skin, of course she’s amused with herself. Then Coco stutters her hips again, and her mind blanks.

She doesn’t even know what to focus on. Coco’s lips on her skin. Coco’s fingers on her breasts. Coco pressed up against her, pressing her to the wall, absolutely ravishing her. The utterly obscene sound of flesh meeting flesh, over and over again without rest or respite. It’s just so much, everything she wants, but none of it what she needs .

She peels the arm she was bracing herself with away from the door, vaguely realizes where her hand’s headed on instinct, only for Coco’s free hand to wrap around her wrist mere inches above its destination. 

“Not yet.” A command, but there’s a promise in it too. Like all she has to do is listen and Coco’ll give her everything she could ever ask for. She falters immediately. Wouldn’t dream of disobeying, but Coco doesn’t let go either way. Changes the angle of her hips just so slightly, but it’s more than enough to cast a new set of sensations, ones Cinder knows she won’t be able to take for long.

Of course, Coco hardly gives her another option. She’s practically immobilized, able to do little beyond endure at Coco’s mercy. Idly, she wonders, somewhere deep in the back of her mind—what little of it still works—, how long until she reaches her breaking point. She can’t hold out like this forever, but she knows release will never come on its own.

She needs it, craves it, desires it like nothing else in the world at the moment. She’d do just about anything— anything except disobey Coco. Somehow, she manages to find her voice between the shameless noises, choked cries, broken half-words she only vaguely if at all intends to voice.

“ Coco— ” she starts, the woman’s name crossing her lips once more in a series she long since gave up trying to keep count of. There’s a need, a desperation to it this time though that wasn’t there before, one that she knows has Coco listening intently. “ Please— ” she is so far not above begging, “ — I-I can’t—” Powerless to articulate her point. Yet she doesn’t need to. She’s given Coco enough already.

But Coco doesn’t release her hand as she might expect. Doesn’t do the deed herself either. Slows down, and Cinder thinks she might scream in frustration. Stops, pulls out, and she actually does.

Of course, Coco doesn’t do it just to torture her. She has her reasons, reasons Cinder’s not left long guessing when Coco’s clutching onto her, murmuring “Turn around babe” hot and breathless against her skin. She doesn’t have to be asked twice. Or at least, wouldn’t , could she trust her legs. Coco’s there to help her though, support her where her own body fails, and soon they’re facing each other once more.

She’s still wearing her damn aviators. Cinder would probably laugh if her brain were in proper working order, not frazzled as it was, without the chorus of her body screaming for more in her ears. She doesn’t miss the way Coco’s gaze lingers on her for a long moment. Almost startles a bit when Coco’s hand comes to rest on her cheek, at the surprising softness of the gesture considering what they were doing just moments prior.

Coco kisses her, long and indulgent. She’s truly not sure what to make of it, why the sudden change of pace, why now . Part of her wonders if it’s just Coco’s way of catching a breath without making it obvious. Maybe giving her own body a moment to step back from the edge too. Or perhaps it’s just Coco fucking with her. Either way, Coco gives it her all, they’re both left on the verge of gasping when they part, and even still, a smug smirk plasters itself across Coco’s face.

Coco’s head tilts, her eyes drop, linger, take in the sight she only before saw from behind. She’s not exactly sure how she should feel under Coco’s gaze, but at the very least she supposes confirmation of the fact that someone like Coco finds her so… visually appealing is nothing if not a stroke to her ego.

Naturally though, she’s not given long to contemplate. Coco steps closer, almost pressing against her, brings one hand to her hips, uses the other to line it up again.

They meet no resistance. The opposite, really. She clutches at Coco, on instinct at first—for support, something to steady herself—, but soon she’s pulling Coco to her, pressing her hips to meet Coco’s, seeking every bit of her that she can. Coco smiles, pulls her into a kiss, wastes no time picking up where they left off. It’s all so different from this position. The angle. The depth. Can’t say whether it’s better or worse, but the new array of sensations alone is wonderful in its own right.

It’s mere moments before she’s approaching the same precipice as before. Maybe faster than she thought she would, but she’s also quickly losing the ability to think . Coco starts changing the angle ever-so-slightly with each couple of thrusts, cataloging the ones that make her the loudest until she finds the one that threatens to make her scream. Homes in on it, absolutely does not stop.

Coco tangles her hand in the back of her hair, ushers her in for a kiss aggressive enough to take her breath away. Pulls down and back when they part, forces her to bare her neck. Clamps down again, and fuck if it’s not delightful. She clutches at Coco, digs her nails into her back, scrambles for more even as every thrust of Coco’s hips pushes her ever more dangerously close to the edge.

Coco can only oblige. Her lips continue, sucking, biting, and her hands drop to Cinder’s hips. She latches on, uses them for leverage to pull Cinder closer in time with each thrust.

It’s growing to be too much very quickly, but the near-overstimulation is addicting by itself. It’s something she’s never really been able to push herself through on her own, but Coco doesn’t exactly give her a choice. And maybe that, yet another example of Coco absolutely taking her, pushes her farther than the physical sensations on their own.

Coco mumbles something in her ear, breathless and wanting, that she doesn’t quite catch. Slows her hips, but starts grinding them in something resembling a stuttered circle towards every apex.

She can hardly take it after the third or fourth. Coco simply chuckles against her skin, pulls back, kisses her again. Parts with a smirk plastered across her face. 

She hardly recognizes the noises being wrung from the back of her throat. Coco utterly revels in them. Her legs are useless, yet Coco supports her like it’s nothing. She tries to utter Coco’s name, to plead, beg, she’s not entirely sure herself, for what she needs, but she can barely articulate a single syllable between the exhaustion and what Coco’s still doing to her.

Coco slows, shifts a bit, and Cinder thinks she got the idea, but then Coco’s hands drop to the back of her thighs and hoist her up instead. She hooks her legs around Coco’s stomach on instinct, moans entirely unbidden when Coco pulls them flush against each other. Then Coco steps forward, presses her against the wall, and picks right back up where she left off.

She crumbles in Coco’s arms. Entirely. It’s all just so much, and now there’s nothing for her to do besides take what Coco has to give. Doesn’t even have to keep herself standing anymore. Just shoved against a wall and fucked to the point that she’s only half-certain she can recall her own name. Not even sure what she wants or needs anymore beyond Coco .

Coco doesn’t bother to enlighten her either. Keeps ravaging her like it was the sole reason she was put on Remnant. And like before, it’s still not enough. She feels the pressure that’s been building within her finally come to a nigh-unbearable head, but with no release in sight.

She knows what she needs.

Frantically, she peels one of her arms from Coco’s back, shoves it between them, inches down to where she needs it. The small part of her mind not thoroughly enraptured in her own pleasure or Coco has her fearing that Coco will pull her hand away again, stop her, make her ride it out until her entire world had disappeared. 

But Coco quickly dashes those fears. 

“Do it.”

That’s all she needs. There’s no elegance to the movements of her fingers, there’s not even a proper pattern. She’s barely two steps away from feral at this point, and she just needs whatever will push over the edge. She’s spiraling before she’s even realized it, shaking and spasming, nothing but Coco’s name on her lips.

Coco’s voice drags her back to reality. “You got it, babe.”

She’s so, so close, she can feel it, just needs one last little push—

“Come for me.”

She snaps. It all snaps, the world snaps. Vision’s gone, everything’s gone except the wave after wave of visceral pleasure threatening to drown her. She quakes and writhes, babbles an incoherent stream of sounds she’s only half aware of. She can’t even tell if Coco’s kept going or not as aftershock after aftershock crashes over her for what feels like forever.

She’s laying on something soft when the world comes back to her. Opens her eyes, blearily recognizes Coco standing over. The sound of her own breathing, deep and labored, but slowly tapering off, consumes her ears. Coco just… observes. Or maybe Coco’s talking to her and her brain’s just not capable of recognizing speech yet. Who knows, who cares, she’s spent, definitely needs some rest.

Her eyes close heavily, she almost feels herself drift off, but then Coco’s hand’s on her shoulder, urging her back to the land of the living.

“Hey,” she hears, vaguely.

She shakes her head, tries to snap herself out of it. Brings her hand to her eyes, rubs them languidly. Tries to sit up, fails, but when she looks back to Coco, it at least feels like her brain is working again, mostly.

“You good, babe? That one seemed pretty… intense.”

She tries to reply, doesn’t even know with what, but her voice refuses to work either way. Tries to laugh instead, best she manages is a single chortle.

But Coco still gets the idea. Starts trailing her hand up and down her arm, slowly. “Normally this’s where I’d ask if you’re up for round three, but…” She trails, doesn’t need to finish.

Cinder tries to laugh again, manages a short chuckle this time.

She hears a buzzing sound beside her, might think she was just imagining it, but then Coco reaches past her, onto the nightstand. Grabs her scroll, opens it.

“Fuck.”

She looks up at Coco, expectantly, doesn’t even bother trying to ask “what?”.

“We’ve got fifteen minutes until my team’s back.” She springs into action practically at the flip of a coin. Undoes the harness, takes it off. Grabs her beret from the nightstand. “Bathroom’s yours if you wanna get yourself cleaned up.” Looks down at the rest of her clothes, probably trying to figure out what needs to be changed and what doesn’t. “Just don’t take too long, I need to get in there too.”

It’s probably Coco’s hurriedness, her rapid change in demeanor, that fully pushes Cinder’s drowsiness away. She’s sitting upright in about half a second. About to head to the bathroom, knows she’s without a doubt a mess, the question is just how much. Looking at Coco, she’s decidedly less so, but looking at Coco also makes her realize something else: “You never…” She doesn’t really know how to finish the thought, what word to use. They all just feel so odd on the tip of her lips.

Coco knows, though. “Don’t worry, I’ll live.”

Cinder guesses it wouldn’t be the first time. They’re probably lucky they even got fifteen minutes’ notice. Better not to… climax at all, than get halfway there and have her team walk in, unannounced.

“Besides, there’s always next time… if you’re up for it.”

She swallows, smiles. Oh. She most certainly is.