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Carson will never get tired of looking at Greta Gill. She likes looking at her in the evening, when they’re out in one of the queer bars of New York, Greta commanding the attention room with just a flick of her head but only ever having eyes for Carson. She likes looking at her in the morning too, when Greta is blinking the sleep from her eyes and smiling when she sees Carson already awake, gazing back at her in the bed that they share.
But if Carson’s honest - if she’s really honest - she likes Greta like this best of all. She likes her face down in the pillow, groaning curse words into the fabric, naked except for the underwear Carson has been refusing to remove for the last ten minutes.
The mid-afternoon sun scatters light and shadow across the bare skin of her back, and Carson stops for a moment to watch the patterns there, tracing a finger along the ridges of Greta’s spine. The noise of New York traffic is muffled far below their apartment window, and Carson revels in the knowledge that they are alone, uninterrupted, that they have all day.
“Carson,” Greta whimpers, her hips squirming against the sheets.
Fine, maybe not all day. Greta might just kill her if she teases her much longer.
She runs her fingertips over the crease of Greta’s thigh and with the flat of her hand she pushes her legs apart, sees the damp spot on the silk material of her underwear. She put that there - she won’t ever get tired of knowing that, of knowing that Greta’s twitching hips are for her and her alone.
“I bought us something,” she says, letting her fingers trace the wetness, the touch just light enough to tease.
She had been proud of herself for going to the store by herself - she had never been without Greta before, and even then she spent half the time ducking her head, embarrassed to be there at all. But yesterday she went by herself, dodged the toys that looked too big to fit inside any human being and the ones that made her oddly hungry, and for the first time she picked out something for both of them, something she knew Greta would like. Something that they’d both like - because she can do that now: she can pick out exactly what will turn Greta into frantic and gasping desperation under her hands.
Greta tries to lift her head to turn around, but Carson presses her back into the pillow with a gentle hand.
“I didn’t say you could look up,” she tells her, letting the gravel slip into her tone, but she pauses for a moment to let Greta change her mind if she wants to. She doesn’t, though, only lets out another groan into the pillowcase.
“Show me,” her muffled voice says, and Carson grins to herself.
The harness slides easily over her hips, and as she settles it in place she shudders at the sensation of the ridged plastic at the base of the strap pushing against her clit. Greta is oddly quiet as she does this, although perhaps she has already guessed what is happening behind her from the sound of Carson’s rustling movements, and knows that it still makes her girlfriend a little nervous to do this, that she still feels just slightly ridiculous with a dildo jutting from between her hips.
(Not that Greta intentionally ever makes her feel that way, of course. Carson never feels anything less than beautiful when Greta is looking at her.)
The nerves fade into confidence though as she climbs back on the bed to kneel over Greta and lets the tip of the strap graze her thighs teasingly. She can feel her every movement between her legs now and it makes her ache, makes her want to push inside without hesitation -
But no. She can wait. Teasing is more important just now.
“You got a new one?” Greta asks, her voice rough.
“Yeah,” Carson says, settling a hand on Greta’s hip and trailing her thumb over the soft skin there. Greta needs that sometimes, even when they’re like this, needs the tiny reminders that Carson loves her. “Is that okay?”
“Fuck, yes,” Greta agrees, and leans up on her elbows, pushes her hips upwards into Carson’s, eager for more. Now, at last, Carson hooks her fingertips under Greta’s underwear and slips it slowly, slowly down her legs, and she’s rewarded with the view of Greta’s arousal glistening between her thighs.
“So wet for me,” she murmurs, more to herself than to Greta, and runs one finger over her, stopping with a teasing touch of Greta’s clit. Carson pauses for a moment to enjoy the feeling of her, wet and waiting, under her fingertips, then slides a finger inside her. It’s not enough, they both know that, but Greta gasps anyway, a noise that turns to frustration when Carson slips out almost immediately to spread her wetness over the dildo.
“Are you ever going to fuck me?” Greta complains, frustrated, although it only makes Carson laugh.
“Only if you ask nicely.”
There is a pause: a moment where they both know that Greta’s desire to be a brat is battling with her desire to have all coherent thought fucked out of her, but finally, she grits out, “Please.”
Carson grins to herself and positions the tip at Greta’s entrance, allowing herself a single beat of final teasing before she pushes easily inside.
Greta is so wet already that there is no resistance, but still, Carson goes slow, a part of her still a little terrified of ever hurting her, her hands steady and grounding on Greta’s hips. She feels every movement in her clit though, and when she is finally - finally - fully inside her, she has to wait a moment for her own benefit more than Greta’s, to make sure she doesn’t come too soon, to make sure she can fuck her the way she really deserves.
“Carson,” Greta gasps, pushing her hips back into her to encourage her to move, “Fuck, c’mon.”
Carson pulls almost all of the way out and then pushes back in, and then, almost without conscious thought, she is moving inside Greta at last.
She builds her up slowly at first, one of her hands slipping upwards to tease at Greta’s nipple as she thrusts almost leisurely inside her. Every movement sends a jolt of arousal pulsing through her though, and soon she is lost in her own pleasure as much as Greta’s, giving in to the desire to drive into her.
Greta’s moans are like music underneath her, her knuckles white as she grips the edge of the bed, and Carson falls forward, presses a kiss to her spine and hauls her upwards with one hand to meet the pace of her thrusts.
“Carson,” Greta chants again and again, “Carson, Carson.”
Carson revels in the sound of her girlfriend’s breathless, rasping voice, mixed with the slick sound of her arousal meeting Carson’s skin and sliding over her belly, the tops of her thighs.
Already she can feel the telltale tidal wave of her orgasm ready to break inside her, but she wants to wait, wants to make sure they fall over the edge together, so she reaches down between Greta’s legs to run her fingers roughly over her clit. It makes Greta throw her head back and moan, exposing the beautiful line of her throat, and Carson reaches up to press her fingers to her jaw, to feel the muscles there work as she groans.
Greta’s shaking thighs give away that her orgasm is close, and finally, just as Carson knows she can’t hold on any longer, that the precipice of her own climax is rushing towards her, Greta comes: she is suddenly silent, frozen in ecstasy, and Carson follows her into the abyss.
They fall onto the bed together, Greta’s face pressed into the pillows, Carson’s head resting on her girlfriend’s sweaty back, the strap still inside her. Greta reaches around a flailing arm to wrap it around Carson, and Carson kisses the tiny baby hairs at the base of her neck.
“Fuck,” Greta says.
“Fuck,” Carson agrees with a smile, and slowly, reluctantly, pulls out of her.
Greta rolls them over when she does, making Carson let out a yelp of surprise as she finds herself suddenly on her back, Greta hovering above her with a wicked grin.
“I’m going to let you pick out our toys more often if this is what you come up with,” she tells her, and slides down onto the toy again, her jaw going slack as it slips inside her.
“You like it?” Carson asks her, one hand going automatically to Greta’s hip to steady her.
“Mhm,” Greta agrees, her eyes closing as her hips begin to move, “What made you - oh, um - what made you pick it out?”
It’s hard to follow that train of thought though when Carson is being treated to the mesmerising sight of Greta fucking herself on the dildo, her hips picking up a steady pace that draws Carson’s eyes to the rhythmic movement of her chest.
She spreads her knees wider on the bed to take the strap deeper inside her, and the gasps that erupt from her throat when she does are lovely. Her weight on top of Carson is grounding and familiar, and as Carson is distracted by the sight of her, Greta reaches up to play run quick circles over her own nipple.
Remembering herself, Carson gently brushes her away to put her own hand on her breast, and Greta grunts, leans forward so her hands are on either side of Carson’s head.
“You feel so good,” she says breathlessly, letting out tiny puffs of warm breath on her girlfriend’s face, and Carson can tell she’s close to a second orgasm by the erratic movement of her hips and the tiny whine at the back of her throat.
She runs a rough thumb over Greta’s nipple and pulls her down hard onto the strap with her other hand, and it’s enough to make Greta come again, her head thrown back and her thighs clenching down around Carson’s hips.
After what feels like minutes, she flops down onto the bed beside Carson with none of her usual grace or poise, her chest heaving.
Carson rolls onto her side to kiss her jaw then her neck, then at last her lips when Greta has a little more of her breath back. “I could watch you do that all day,” she murmurs, and it’s true: she will never get tired of looking at Greta Gill.
“I have one more surprise, if you’re up for it,” Carson says against her lips. “But first, I’m getting us some water.”
Carson rolls out of bed, harness still around her hips, winking at Greta over her shoulder as she pops into the kitchen and comes back with two glasses of water.
“For you, my love,” she says, handing Greta one of the glasses and sitting back down to drink hers.
They sit cross-legged on the bed for a moment before setting their glasses on their respective nightstands.
“So, you think you’re going to top that, Shaw?” Greta asks, her eyes flitting down to the silicone strap in Carson’s lap.
“I think technically you were the one on top,” Carson says with a wink. Greta feigns shock and Carson giggles.
“Okay, so this one…is a little different,” Carson says. “But, I remember one night you were trying to show me a TikTok and you saw something like this and seemed interested so…I went for it.”
With that, Carson leans over the side of the bed and pulls a red rope from a bag.
“It’s made of -” Carson pauses to check the small tag on the front, “-jute, and it’s preconditioned.”
She holds the rope up and Greta’s eyes are wider than they’ve been all night.
“Oh fuck,” she whispers, and Carson’s breath catches.
“We don’t have to use it tonight, okay? I did a bunch of research and watched a ton of videos. I know we’ve talked a lot about this stuff but I don’t want to just throw you into it and assume-”
Greta cuts her off with a hard kiss.
“Fuck yes,” she whispers slyly.
“Oh, great!” Carson says, a bit too cheerily back.
Greta pauses and looks Carson in the eyes, holding Carson’s hands and the rope with her own.
“I trust you,” Greta says,
“I love you,” Carson says back, kissing her again.
Carson pulls out a pair of black scissors from the bag and sets them on the nightstand.
“Safety first,” she says with a gentle smile. Greta’s eyes are still mesmerized by the rope and Carson can feel herself getting warm at the image. She takes a deep breath and focuses on the task instead, trying to stave off her own wetness for just a bit longer.
“We need a safe word - if you get uncomfortable or are in any kind of pain that isn’t good, you need to use it, okay?” Carson asks.
“Kenosha,” Greta says, her voice dropping slightly and a hot smile crossing her lips.
Carson shivers thinking about the first time Greta fucked her until she didn’t know her name. She often thinks back to that night in dark moments alone under the covers, two fingers circling her clit and Greta’s name falling across her lips.
“Kenosha it is,” Carson says with a gulp.
“Where, um…do you want me?” Greta asks, her voice shaking slightly as she once again eyes the rope in Carson’s hand.
“Stand at the end of the bed, arms behind your back and hold your wrists,” Carson says. She channels her usual bedroom confidence into the moment.
Greta grins and rolls off the bed, standing where she was instructed; Carson follows and stands in front of her.
“I’m only tying your upper body, okay? I’m going to do a basic tie using your arms and chest.”
“Yes, Coach,” Greta says, knowing exactly how that phrase hits Carson. As expected, her chest flushes and she feels her stomach tighten slightly.
Carson steadies her hands and runs the textured rope between them, making sure there aren’t any knots or kinks. She begins behind Greta, pressing soft kisses to her back and adjusting her hands and arms into exactly the right position. Gently but confidently, she wraps the rope in circles around Greta’s forearms, calling back to the videos she watched to know where pressure points are, important nerves, and danger zones. She tosses the rope over Greta’s right shoulder, both giggling softly as Carson has to jump to get it in the right spot.
“Are you doing okay?” Carson asks, breaking her own focus to check in.
“Yes,” Greta says confidently.
Carson continues, her hands brushing different parts of Greta’s arms and back, the silicone strap on her hips rubbing against Greta’s body and sending delicious vibrations down her spine.
Greta’s breathing is steady as Carson finishes her final knot and double-checks her placements with scientific accuracy.
“Get lost in the sauce back there, Shaw?” Greta whispers over her shoulder.
“I’m just double-checking my work,” she says, tongue held between her lips as she steps around to Greta’s front. “Your hands are okay, right?”
“Yes, this feels fucking amazing Carson. You’re amazing,” Greta says, tossing a smile down to Carson, whose eyes are completely trapped on Greta’s chest.
The rope has created a square around Greta’s breasts, framing them and pushing them together.
“It’s not a look-don’t-touch situation, Coach,” Greta says nonchalantly, pushing her chest lightly toward Carson. “I’m safe, I feel amazing, you look so hot, and I would really like you to touch me again,” Greta says.
Carson grins and licks her lips. She runs her hands along the edges of the rope, admiring her work and the image in front of her: Greta Gill, naked, tied up, and at her mercy.
Carson grasps the front of the rope and draws Greta close to kiss her hotly, dropping more kisses down her chest and sucking gently on one of Greta’s nipples, using one hand to toy with her other nipple and wrapping the other around Greta’s back for support. Greta, unable to direct Carson where to go with her hands as usual, simply moans around the feeling of Carson’s hot breath dancing down her body.
Carson can feel heat building in her stomach already as she steps back to look at Greta again, chest now flushed again and hair messier than before.
“Get on your knees,” Carson commands, unable to hide her smile as she watches Greta take one knee and go down to the other, sitting back on her heels. She smiles demurely up at Carson from the floor as Carson caresses her face softly.
“I want to put it in your mouth,” she says, sliding her hand around the back of Greta’s head.
“Oh fuck,” tumbles from Greta’s mouth before she bites her lip and looks at the silicone strap. “Yes,” she says softly, meeting Carson’s eyes and nodding.
“Good girl,” Carson says, her voice gruff as she guides Greta’s head to the right position and lines up the dildo. Greta opens her mouth and takes part of the strap in her mouth before bobbing her head slowly. As the strap hits Carson’s clit repeatedly, she feels the heat building in her center again and wetness dripping onto her thighs.
Greta meets Carson’s eyes from her position and takes more of the silicone into her mouth, the majority now disappearing into her.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Carson whispers as Greta moves back and forth, closing her eyes and humming against Carson’s body. The image alone would be enough, but the noises Greta is making in addition to the motions make Carson’s stomach tighten quickly.
Fuck, Greta, you’re so pretty, so hot oh my god, tumbles from Carson’s lips as her first orgasm hits her. Greta continues her motions until Carson pulls at her hair, gently stopping her. The strap falls from her lips with a gentle pop, saliva coating her lips and some of her chin.
Carson’s breath speeds up again looking at Greta, completely undone beneath her. She runs her thumb over Greta’s lips and cheek, brushing hair from her eyes.
“I want to fuck you,” Carson says with a slight crack in her voice.
“Please do,” Greta says.
Carson pulls Greta to standing with the rope harness and turns her to face the bed. She grabs a pillow from the top of the bed and lays it down, pushing Greta’s chest on top of it and pulling her hips toward her.
With two fingers, Carson slips into Greta pulsing in and out for a few strokes.
“You’re so fucking pleased with yourself, aren’t you?” she asks.
Greta offers a soft mmhmm from her position on the bed before Carson adds a third finger, speeding up her strokes.
“Fuck, Carson, oh my god,” Greta says, pushing her hips back onto Carson’s hand.
Carson feels Greta tightening slightly around her and pulls her hand out, using Greta’s wetness to coat the strap.
She lines herself up with Greta and pushes the dildo into her, eliciting a high moan from Greta.
“Carson, you feel so good,” Greta says against the bed as Carson slowly presses her hips forward, sliding the full length of the strap into Greta.
Carson’s heart speeds up as her hips do, driving into Greta again and again until Greta’s words become incoherent. Sputters of Carson, fuck, oh my god, right there, peel from her mouth as Carson bites her own lip feeling her own orgasm building.
“Hang on baby, wait for me,” Carson commands gently.
Greta whimpers, her legs beginning to shake as Carson grabs hold of her bound wrists to press into her.
She uses a free hand to pinch at her breast, her head lolling down to watch Greta take all of her repeatedly. She speeds up, the bed shaking in a knowing way beneath them. Greta’s wetness coats the strap and Carson’s upper thighs, and the glistening sight sends Carson over the edge.
She comes quickly with a hard moan as Greta half-screams beneath her, expletives running from her lips.
Carson slows down as Greta’s legs nearly give out. She comes to a stop and holds Greta’s hips in place for a moment.
“I’m going to pull out and then I’ll untie you, okay?” she asks, waiting for confirmation.
An affirmative mmm comes from Greta’s mouth.
Carson pulls herself out and gently guides Greta back onto her knees. She deftly unties her, double-checking her circulation before pulling Greta onto the bed and resting her girlfriend on her chest. Holding her and pressing kisses to her head, rubbing her back and shoulders, she helps Greta take a few sips of water from the glass on the nightstand and snuggles back into her.
“You were so good today,” Carson says, kissing Greta’s head.
“When I remember my name, I’ll thank you again,” Greta says with a soft laugh.
Carson’s heart warms, the sight of an exhausted and fucked out Greta on her chest filling her with happiness. She could look at this view for the rest of her life and it would never be long enough, she thinks.