Work Text:
Greta arrives home to the sound of Carson clattering around in the kitchen, talking to herself – presumably recorded on a voice note – as she goes.
“Which means that you need to have the subject in both sentences just for clarity!” she rants, and Greta peeks in, leaning against the door frame as she watches her girlfriend throw her hands up in the air, adorable. She has flour on the tip of her nose. “I’ll have to make this sound much nicer lately, but Jesus, if I read one more prose piece where I can’t tell who is speaking, I’m going to have to put one more layer of editing between me and final-read for publication–”
“Hey baby,” Greta interrupts gently, crossing her arms softly, propping herself against the wall more comfortably.
“Greta,” Carson says, sounding immediately relieved at the sight of her. “Hi.” Gesturing vaguely, wooden spoon in hand, she laughs, sheepish. “Sorry about the mess.”
“Are you stress baking again, my love?” she asks, pushing herself off and rounding the island, wrapping her arms around Carson from behind, kissing the side of her head.
“No,” Carson lies immediately as if she doesn’t have a raw tin of banana bread, a baking sheet meant for cookies, and pie dough all before her on the counter. Greta squeezes her around the middle. “Okay,” she relents. “Maybe a little?”
Greta reaches to swipe her finger into the cookie dough, sucking her finger into her mouth. “What’s going on?”
“Just work,” Carson says, sighing heavily. “You know we have our monthly paperless magazine of poetry and other pieces?”
Humming in confirmation, Greta presses a kiss to her neck, hands still firm at her hips.
“Well I just got handed a boatload of material that was supposedly edited, but I had my red pen out all day at work, and it was like nobody had even gone through it!” She shoves her spoon into the cookie dough. “I just want consistently good writing to be put out and–”
“Carson.” Greta reaches and turns off the voice note before hitting the button on the side, forcing the screen to go dark. Carson swallows hard when Greta pins her to the counter.
“Okay, I’m stress baking a lot,” she admits. “I just want the edition to be good. It’s only my second since I got the promotion.”
“And you’re doing great,” Greta soothes easily. Her palms slide against Carson’s stomach, her nose pressed into her hair. Carson shivers, leaning back against her before she can help herself.
“Greta…” she murmurs, a little warning, a little wanting.
“Do you think you want to relieve some stress?” Her lips skate over the shell of Carson’s ear.
Carson takes in a shaky breath, still sinking against her. “God, I love you, but I don’t think I have the energy to–”
“Oh, honey, not like that,” Greta says immediately, tonguing at her pulse now. “Let me? It seems like you’re holding onto a lot. And all of this–“ she gestures to the mess on the counter– “isn’t helping you be productive.” Her fingers brush against Carson’s spine, massage at her shoulders and neck slowly. “I could help.”
For a moment, Carson thinks, taking a deep breath, before she nods. “Just let me put the banana bread in the fridge?” She’s already pliant in Greta’s arms.
Greta laughs, shaking her head affectionately. “Of course.”
***
Greta pulls one of their bigger strap-ons tight at her hips because Carson picked it shyly from the drawer to be cleaned, and she smiles one of those coy, knowing smiles that she has that already makes Carson readier than she wants to admit.
“Are you going to take off your clothes or stare?” Greta teases when she notices Carson watching her from where she’s seated at the edge of the bed.
“I just want to… take you in for a moment,” Carson mumbles, blushing, eyes moving over Greta – who’s bare aside from the harness. “I’m really lucky.”
“You are,” Greta teases, but she notices the hesitation in Carson’s features. “Hey, what’s going on?”
“Nothing,” she replies quickly. “I’m just thinking… I really do have to edit all of those poems by Friday, and maybe this right now, as much as I want to–”
“We can table it,” Greta says immediately, reaching to undo the harness as swiftly as she put it on.
“I–” Carson swallows. “I just don’t want to be… in control for a little while,” she admits. “If that’s okay.” Ever since her promotion, she’s been this way, a bit more unsure, a bit less ready to say what she needs.
“Of course it’s okay.” Greta is proud of her, but she knows the workload and leadership is taking a toll. It always does – it did when she first rose in the ranks at Vivienne’s company.
So she just gets on her knees right there, looking up at Carson. “So you want to keep going?”
“Yes.” Carson nods, reaching to tuck some hair behind Greta’s ear, ever soft, ever considerate.
“And is this okay?” She hooks her fingers in the waistband of her pants. She snaps the elastic back.
After a moment, the silence is too long for her liking.
“Traffic lights?”
“Green,” Carson says thickly, looking down at her. “Sorry, you just look really good like that.”
“Don’t apologize,” Greta says immediately, pulling off Carson’s joggers and her underwear down in the same motion. “What have I said about apologizing?”
“That I should do it less,” Carson answers without thinking; they’ve been working on it for months, especially when they’re like this. Greta wants her to ask for what she wants. It’s only gotten a little bit easier.
“Good,” Greta murmurs, pushing up the hem of her shirt, kissing her stomach, along her right hip. “Lay down.” She presses a hand to her sternum and shoves her back gently.
Carson complies, spreading her legs easily, laughing when Greta pulls them over her shoulders and tugs her closer. “Eager.”
“For you? Always,” Greta flirts, tonguing at the crease of her leg, marking the top of her thigh before she draws easy patterns towards her center, finally licking a broad stroke over Carson’s clit.
“Oh,” she breathes, tangling her hands up in soft red hair.
Greta hums, repeating the motion, feather-light with the tip of her tongue. Carson whimpers, bucking her hips, laughing when Greta pins her to the mattress easily, continuing on. She groans a little when Carson pulls at her hair, but she doesn’t give in, teasing sweet and careful until Carson is whining.
She’s so wet already. Greta loves it.
“You taste so good, baby,” Greta whispers, dragging her tongue softly against her until she’s inside, circling slow, slow, slow–
“Fuck, close,” Carson whimpers, toes curling against Greta’s back, arching when Greta rises back up and sucks her clit into her mouth, eyes slamming shut. “Fuck, I’m gonna come–”
“Not yet,” Greta murmurs, pulling back.
Carson lifts her head, shaking, breathless when Greta looks up at her, wide-eyed, soft and knowing. Her question is silent.
“Carson, you didn’t say please,” Greta answers easily, giggling when Carson is suddenly urging her up, pretending to be annoyed, fingers pushing at her scalp gently in a way that communicates she wants Greta against her. Before that, though, they manage to get Carson’s shirt off in one smooth motion.
Carson pulls her girlfriend down into a kiss the second she’s within reach, and she spreads her legs again without thinking. Fire burns under her skin as Greta touches her everywhere, calloused fingers moving over her stomach, against her ribs, cupping her jaw.
“God, just fuck me,” she whimpers, hips rising against Greta’s touch. She can feel the hardness against her thigh, and she can barely concentrate, can barely breathe. She touches herself before reaching for the toy, spreading her wetness all over it. Pumping it in her grasp, Carson hears Greta moan in her ear, thinks she has her–
“You’re not being very polite,” Greta manages even as her eyes flutter shut. She swallows hard. This is about Carson. “Do you know that?”
“I need it,” Carson gasps, and at those words, she ends up swiftly in Greta’s lap, nose pressed to the side of her head. She grinds her hips down at the move, so wet that she wants to cry.
“Why don’t you set the pace for me then? Tell me how I can help?” Greta offers, even though she isn’t actually offering. They both know she wants Carson to let go of the steady hold she has on herself, wants her to lose control a little bit.
But Carson is stubborn and seems to be ready for the challenge, reaching for the length again and sinking down on it with a broken gasp, head falling back. Greta’s never seen anything hotter.
Carson wraps her arms around her shoulders, shaking as she takes a little more. “God.” None of the stress has melted from her shoulders, not really.
This might be tougher than Greta thought. Carefully, she settles her grip around Carson’s waist, the gentle weight helping her settle on the strap. Holding herself steady, Greta slips a little further inside as she shifts, teasing before she stills, purposeful.
“Oh, fuck,” Carson whimpers. She feels so full now, slick dripping down the length. “Fuck.”
“What do you need?” Greta asks softly, kissing her neck. “Tell me.”
“It’s just a lot,” Carson whines, rocking slowly, lips parted around a moan.
“Hey, you know the rules.” Greta’s hand slows the motion of her hips. “Not until you take all of it.”
“Baby,” she complains, trying again, but Greta's grip tightens around her middle.
“Rules, my love,” she chides, and Carson shivers, nods. She remembers why they’re doing this: to get her to ease up, to quiet her worried heart.
“Okay,” she breathes. “Okay.”
“So tell me.” Greta’s tongue traces her collarbone and her fingers ghost up Carson’s spine. She shivers. “What do you need?” Carson’s hips cant forward before she can stop herself and Greta holds her steady. “Use your words."
Carson gasps, sinking a little further down on the toy as she opens up, somehow wetter than before. “Please,” she finally manages. “Please.”
“Shhh, it’s okay,” Greta soothes, kissing her shoulder. “I’ve got you.”
Shifting, Carson bites her lip, looking down at Greta, shy. “I can’t,” she mumbles. “I can’t take all of it.”
“You can.” Greta is so gentle, fingers against the dimples at the base of her back. “We both know you can.”
This is a dance they do when Carson gets worked up like this, and Greta can see they’re nearing the end, the moment where she gives in and lets her lead. Over the years, Carson’s been the one leading, hot and handsy and eager to please, but they’ve been together long enough now where it’s helped to give it up sometimes, to let Greta take over, even if it’s hard for her to let go sometimes.
“Color?” Greta whispers when Carson doesn’t answer for a moment.
“Green,” she promises quickly. “Green, fuck. Baby, please–”
“So you want more then? I thought you couldn’t take it?” Greta lifts her hips, mouth on Carson’s chest now, and Carson cries out, body curving at the sudden, deeper fullness.
“Oh, fuck. God. I just need help,” she finally admits, the words rushing out all at once. “I need help, baby, baby, please, want you on top–”
And there it is: what Greta has been waiting for. She smiles against Carson’s heartbeat.
“Why didn’t you just say that?” she whispers, flipping them gently, and the toy fits a little easier immediately. Carson groans, clutches at her, arching and moaning and whimpering and–
“God. It’s too much,” she whines. “I told you. I–”
Greta hushes her gently, her hold on Carson’s hips soft, and she stays perfectly still. Her hands roam slowly, her tongue finding the shell of Carson’s ear, nipping at it until she gasps, until she floods again and Greta slips in a little further.
“We’ve done it before, honey,” she reminds, continues to touch her so they don’t lose momentum.
Breath by breath, touch by touch, she slides inside gently while Carson gasps out I know, I know, I–
“You’re so beautiful like this,” she whispers. “Taking me. Such a good girl.”
Carson whimpers. “Greta–”
“Mhm? Do you feel full, baby?” she teases, hands ghosting against Carson’s ribs, up, brushing over her shoulders, cupping her neck and sliding her forefinger against Carson’s pulse, her thumb moving around to the other side until she’s just barely tensing her grip.
Carson gasps, her eyes rolling back. For a moment, she’s silent, arching up for more, and Greta smiles, watching, her free hand drawing patterns down Carson’s stomach, along her thigh. Finally, she slides her fingers against her clit, moving in slow circles.
“Answer me.”
“Fuck,” Carson whines, her whole body tight with need. Her thighs quiver with the effort of holding back her orgasm, and at the same time, it’s just out of reach. She can feel how she’s dripping onto the sheets now, how wet she is. “Yes. Yes. I feel full, feel so good–”
“Good. Good girl, so pretty,” Greta murmurs, sucking a mark against the hollow of her throat and guiding her hips home until she bottoms out, settling softly, cradled hip to hip with her love. It’s sweet, the way they’re heartbeat to heartbeat, how her hand squeezes a little tighter at Carson’s throat until she sees stars. Greta kisses the side of her head. “You’re doing such a good job. You always do so good for me.”
She rocks her hips just barely, still all the way inside. Just a little bit deeper. Just a little bit rougher. Just a little bit fuller.
And just like that, Carson comes, hot and quick and all at once, fingers tangling in Greta’s hair, legs wrapping tightly around her, and she realizes she’s crying as she squeezes her eyes shut. Muffling a moan in Greta’s neck, Carson comes and comes enveloped by the soft whispers of good girl, of so good, so pretty, of look, I told you it wasn’t too much. All the while, Greta keeps fucking into her, reaching down to grip her waist with both hands, this time slower and lazier, maintaining a soft rhythm until Carson tilts her head back further against the pillow, close again already.
“More,” she gasps, bucking her hips, hands reaching to tug at the harness criss-crossing Greta’s ass when she pulls out a little. “Please–”
“I thought it was too big?” Greta teases, shivering when Carson’s nails scratch up her back, against the nape of her neck. “I thought you couldn’t take it all?”
“Greta.” Carson pulls at her hair, and Greta laughs, low and hot. “Fuck, it’s not fair. Please let me–”
“What’s not fair?” she asks, kissing her jaw, smiling as she circles her clit softly with her thumb. “Oh, baby, you want me so bad, don’t you?” Her fingers are slick when she pulls them back. “You get so fucking wet and you can’t even hide it.”
Carson blushes, feels herself get wetter anyway, glistening and open around the head of the toy. “I just can’t help it,” she says quietly. “Please. God, you feel so good, fuck–”
Greta shudders. It’s not as if the length is actually attached to her, but she can’t help but press her hips forward at the praise, smiling when Carson gasps, choking out a moan, arms wrapping tight around her. And in this moment, Greta can’t help but see how different she’s become with Carson. She’s never been so giving like this, knows that nobody from her past would have really described her as selfless. But with Carson, it’s all new: this streak of hopeless care that she doesn’t want to smooth over, how she ignores the ache of her thighs when she feels nails press half-moons into her back, holds herself steady as she eases back inside only as quickly as Carson can handle.
“Faster,” Carson whimpers finally, balling her hands into fists, fucking her hips up. She’s trembling. “Please, please, harder–”
Greta rocks forward, smiling against Carson’s ear. She braces her hand beside Carson’s head for leverage–
“Oh fuck.” She keens, taking all of her easily now as their hips slide together. God.
“Are you gonna come for me again?” Greta murmurs, teasing at her chest, slipping her fingers down to her clit once more.
“Yeah, yeah. I–“ She’s so fucking close and Greta knows it, drives her hips forward as Carson moans, flushed red down her neck and chest, breath stuttering. “God, you’re so big,” she mumbles. “Feels so good. Holy shit, baby.”
Greta’s vision tunnels, breathless, concentration evident in her features, and fuck, if Carson thought she couldn’t take it before, her head swims as Greta pushes gently, as she tightens around the length when she bottoms out again.
“Oh– Oh. I’m gonna come,” Carson moans, and really, she can only sink into the mattress and take it, lips parted, her whole body pulsing in time with her heartbeat. She bites down on Greta’s shoulder to muffle a scream, a blushing mess as she remembers their neighbors, listens to the bedframe hit the wall in a revealing rhythm.
Pressure builds in her gut and snaps all at once as her eyes roll back, and she feels warm wetness flood between her legs. Heat rushes everywhere, and she can feel herself making a mess, whimpers, her whole body curving to fit against Greta’s. She rarely comes this hard, but Greta has worked every ounce of stress from her body, so it makes sense she would tonight of all nights. She can’t even be embarrassed with the way Greta gasps and moans in her ear.
“Fuck,” she mumbles. “You’re so beautiful. So fucking good, taking all of me like this.”
“Fuck,” Carson breathes, burying her face in her neck and she can’t even control her body as she comes again, choking out a whine, soaking into the sheets. She reddens, trembling with the aftershocks. “Fuck. Kiss me?”
Greta hums, pulling out, gentle and slow before it gets uncomfortable, and leaning down to kiss her, slow and dirty. “You did so good,” she whispers. “Do you feel better?”
“I can’t really move, but yes,” Carson laughs into her mouth. Her arms fall from around Greta’s neck as she flops back. “Fuck.”
“What do you need?” she asks, just like before, but softer, really meaning it.
“Some water?” Carson asks, groaning as Greta rolls off of her, missing her comfortable weight. “And maybe a bath.”
“Done and done,” her girlfriend says, bending to kiss her cheek and undoing the straps on the harness, moving into the bathroom and placing it in the sink to be cleaned before she turns on the water for the tub.
She’s quick and deliberate in her movements, not wanting to leave Carson alone for too long, slipping back into the bedroom after only a moment and handing her a cold glass.
Carson sits up gingerly, propping herself up against the pillows and sipping it, starting forward.
“That’s your thinking face.” Greta points to the furrow in her brow, sitting on the edge of the bed. “You’re not supposed to be able to think after all this,” she teases lightly. “What is it?”
“Nothing,” Carson says quickly. “It’s just– you didn’t get to– um–“ She looks down, gesturing vaguely in Greta’s direction.
“Come?” Greta laughs. “What, you can’t say it now?”
“I’m serious.” Carson blushes, adorable. “I feel bad that you didn’t get to–“
“My love,” Greta interrupts gently. “Watching you did plenty for me. Besides, tonight was about you.”
“Well, yeah, but…“ Frowning thoughtfully, Carson shrugs a little. “I just want you to feel good too.”
“You know what makes me feel good?” Greta asks, placing a hand on her leg. “Making you feel better. Do you feel better?”
Carson presses her lips together and nods. “Yeah.”
“Okay, then.” Greta takes her hand, bringing it up so she can kiss her knuckles. “You can repay me with a slice of chocolate chip banana bread with my coffee tomorrow morning.”
“I thought you said my stress baking was unproductive.” Carson squints at her playfully.
“Oh, be serious, darling,” she laughs. “I just wanted to get you into bed. You needed to get fucked.”
“Greta!” Carson flushes at how easily she says it – she’ll never be used to how nonchalant her girlfriend is about… about–
“You can’t even think it, can you?” Greta teases.
“Shut up,” she grumbles, wincing when she tries to swing her legs off the bed. She can hear that the bath is almost full. “Shit.”
“Can’t walk?” Greta raises an eyebrow, pleased with herself. She’s not above gloating and they both know it.
“Help me?” Carson gives in immediately.
“I thought you would never ask.” Greta leans down and lifts her easily, smiling when Carson wraps her legs around her, buries her face in her neck.
Their life is overflowing with routines and sweetnesses like this; even when it’s a soft night, Greta will sometimes carry Carson to their room or into the bathroom, placing her gently on her side of the bed or onto the counter so they can talk while Greta showers.
“I love you,” Carson mumbles, pressing a kiss to her pulse.
“I love you too,” Greta replies easily, melting at just how easy it is to say.
It’s never been as easy as it is with Carson. And even when it’s difficult, she wouldn’t want to fix things up like they do with anybody else.