Archive of Our Own

California is the hotter older sister of Oregon. Like too hot, hot damn. Victoria can only describe the feeling of living there as ‘fashionably melting’. She’s used to at least cardigan weather all year round and, frankly, San Francisco is bullshit. Her collection of sweaters are in a sad pile of boxes in her closet. The last time she got to wear one was during a visit back to Washington.

The only thing worse than the heat is what it does to Max.

Rather, what it does to her wardrobe.

Max has skipped looking appropriate for her age and gone from ‘apathetic preteen’ style to ‘embarrassing tourist dad’. Victoria can’t bear to look in Max’s closet due to the abundance of hawaiian print shirts and khaki shorts.

Honestly, how is she dating such a fashion disaster?

Max’s bent at the waist, looking at cookies in the oven. The hideous shirt has ridden up enough to expose pale thighs and a round butt.

Victoria remembers now.

Taking advantage of weakness is something her parents’ taught her from the cradle. She saunters up behind Max and uses her prone position to pin her against the oven, gripping Max’s hips with wide hands and grinding hard against that round bottom.

Max gasps, an unexpected noise and a string of drool dripping from her open mouth.

“Victoria, I don’t want to burn the cookies.” Max says.

Her heart isn’t in it though, and it’s so easy to slide her shorts down. Victoria reaches for the cotton briefs beneath and meet nothing but smooth skin. Her mouth goes dry and her panties wet.

“My, my, someone’s being quite the dirty girl.”

Max lets out a harsh chuckle, “Not really, I just thought I’d save you the time and me the--ahhhh--laundry.”

Hardwood flooring is more tasteful and easier to clean than carpet, but it does hurt her knees. Max is panting through her mouth, nails scrabbling the surface of the oven. Victoria pulls her back even further by the hips and inhales sharply through her nose.

Max weighs like ten pounds, but she’s always pulling away, putting her weight on her knees instead of Victoria’s face and neck. The kneeling, the worship, they remind Victoria of Church. Only, this idol is tangible. The flesh she eats melts in her mouth, not dry like the wafers. Max is something, someone she can taste and touch and smell.

She’s real.

Victoria breathes heavily through her nose, smirking at the little wail building in Max’s chest. Sweat has brown hair sticking to the back of her neck. All of the tendons in her arms are working overtime, twitching with the strain of clutching the stovetop. Her thighs are weakening, unused to this particular kind of exercise.

The oven timer goes off and Max lurches forward.

Victoria topples, face pressing against the back of Max’s thigh. Mouth sticky, eyes wide, and more than a little offended.

“Did you just think while I was eating you?” Her voice raises in pitch.

Max is using her knee to shove Victoria out of the way.

“They’re chocolate chip cookies.”

“I had my face in your ass!”

“And you can put it back after I take these delicious cookies out of the oven.”

Victoria’s dusting off her knees in long, jerky swipes and scoffing. Her scoffs follow her out of the kitchen.

Max rolls her eyes at her girlfriend’s flare for the overdramatic. Not bothered by the tantrums of a twenty year old, she whisper-sings,

“Makin’ cookies, makin’ naken cookies.”

When Max follows the trail of grumbling back to the bedroom, oven safely off and cookies cooling, she finds Victoria on their bed with tablet in hand.

“Hey. Cookies are out.”

“I see how it is. Prioritizing sweets over me.”

“Need them to balance out your saltiness.” Max says, plucking the toe of Victoria’s stockings.

Victoria rubs her thighs together, very aware that Max still isn’t wearing pants and is creeping her fingers around her foot.

Max’s voice is low as she pushes Victoria’s legs apart.

“And this way we won’t have to worry about the house burning down while I devour you.” Max crawls onto the bed and breathes against Victoria’s neck.

Victoria whines and licks her lips. Impatience overwhelms her. Foreplay is for after the first orgasm. She shoves her skirt, panties, and stockings off in movement leaving herself exposed to Max.

Max’s nostrils flare and she breathes deeply before dropping to bite at Victoria’s hips and nip her navel.

“Max, turn around and ride my face.” Victoria says.

Max wiggles her fingers along Victoria’s abdomen, contemplative for a moment before following the request. Victoria exhales against hot, wet flesh then pulls Max’s clit into her mouth.

“Shitfuck.”

Max grunts and falls back on her knees. Victoria’s hands pull her down lower onto her face. Her tongue is painting stripes of Max’s come up and down her folds.

Through the haze of pleasure, Max pushes Victoria’s hips apart to part the smooth lips beneath a cute stripe of dark hair. Her approach to eating pussy is a little more animalistic than Victoria’s.

Victoria tastes with the tip of her tongue, she’s mostly lips sucking at glossy pink folds. She likes to loosen up Max with a probing tongue before using a curling finger.

Max could be described as a ‘vagina zombie’. She gets her whole face in there and tries to fit as much into her mouth as she can, bathing every inch with licks. She’s pulls back to spit on Victoria’s clit, then slaps her labia.

The only sounds are the kitchen fan, heavy breathing, and the sound of slick sucking and licking.

Upstairs, their neighbour starts the shower. A car drives by. The headiness of the air builds with every stroke. Max chokes as Victoria’s finger curls inside of her, replacing her tongue and redirecting the wet muscle’s path a little higher.

Max gets her back by biting the spot around Victoria’s clit and humming.

“You bitch.” Victoria says.

“Mmhm.” Max hums.

Victoria gasps against wet folds, her concentration and equilibrium off. Her head falls back against the mattress and her hips are bucking, but Max backs off.

She whines, “Max, please.”

Max dips a finger inside her, “Please what?”

Victoria kicks out her legs in frustration.

“Fuck me!”

“Is that not what I’m doing?”

She licks slowly up and down from clit to entrance, gathering the cum there.

“Max, can I please please come?”

Max attacks her clit with a batting tongue and pumps two fingers in and out of Victoria. It’s too much, waves of orgasm overtake her. Max smirks, still giving her clit kitten licks.

“God, Victoria, you’re so easy.”

Her voice goes up in pitch at the end. Victoria’s getting her revenge with a hammering hand and tongue. She sits up, knocking Max onto her forearms as she holds her bottom half up and flush against her. She fucks Max with her tongue, breathing noisily through her nose.

It takes all of about thirty seconds for her to get Max to finish like a spout after that. Victoria’s lower back wobbles and she drops to the mattress, taking Max with her.

They’re slumped against each other waiting for their breathing to recover. Max nips at the pale thighs below her then rolls off so they’re making a lazy yin yang with their bodies.

“I need to pee.” Is the first thing Max says.

“I’m craving chocolate chip cookies.” Victoria says.

“See? This is why I made them. You always get the munchies after we do the deed.”

“That’s like saying I always have the munchies.”

Max pauses in taking off her shirt to give Victoria a saucy over-the-shoulder look.

“What?”

“Victoria, you’re always the two H’s. Hungry and horny.”

Victoria scoffs and throws her own blouse at Max as she struts towards the kitchen. Max purses her lips and crouches to pick up the blouse and sniff it. She hangs it on the back of the chair. Victoria may play nonchalant, but she’ll flip if it wrinkles.

The fiend in question returns with one cookie in her mouth and one in each hand. Max opens her mouth expectantly.

Victoria bites down and lets the visible half that was sticking out of her mouth into her hand.

“Oh, you wanted one? These are for me.”

Max snatches one and licks a smear of chocolate from the corner of Victoria’s mouth.

“You eat too many sweets.”

“It’s to balance your saltiness.” Victoria mimics.

Max scoffs, “You’re terrible.”

She strides past, buck ass naked, on her way to the bathroom. Victoria catches her with her forearms.

“Mm, take a shower with me.” Victoria says.

“The cookies will get soggy and I have to pee.”

“I’ll eat the cookies while you go pee.”

“Are you gonna shove them in your face all at once and mash your jaw like Cookie Monster? Because that is something I’ve always wanted to see you do.”

Victoria contemplates it while chewing. Max looks for her answer, but the pee dance wins out. She rushes towards the bathroom.

She hears the tapping of thick fingers against the door.

“Maaaxxx, hurry up, I feel like the creepy ghosts in this house are watching me eat cookies naked.”

“Victoria, there are no creepy ghosts in this apartment, only creepy neighbours.” Max flushes.

“You say that now, but who do you call when you hear creaking down the hall at three am?”

“Are you really gonna argue with me through the bathroom door?” Max says.

She opens the door. Victoria’s standing there looking innocent, one hand pulling her arm close to her body. Nipples turgid in the heat.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to shower now.”

Victoria’s ass is pointed towards Max as she bends at the waist to fiddle with the shower knobs. Six months in this apartment and she still has no idea what the water pressure is going to be like when she turns it on. Will it be a gentle rain or the full force of Niagara Falls bruising her skin with hot water?

Max slaps the beat to a Bloodhound Gang song on Victoria’s ass while waiting for the verdict. It gets a genuine full laugh, the desired result. Victoria tugs on the stopper and today it’s Niagara Falls.

Max closes the shower door behind her and hugs Victoria from behind. She watches the water stain Victoria’s yellow-blonde hair to a darker gold and trails of water move like lightning down her skin. The path of energy, like a vein.

She steps aside to let Max get hit by the full stream. Max tangles their fingers together and sighs at the wet heat. Wet heat outside this room is unappreciated, seriously California, fuck off. But inside the shower it’s good. Too hot even.

“Can I make it colder?” She asks.

Victoria nods, “Cold water’s supposed to keep your boobs perky, so it’s probably a good idea.”

Max snorts, sending a shot of clear snot onto Victoria’s shoulder. She wipes it off innocently.

“Ugh, you’re so gross.” Victoria says.

“Really? I’m surprised you didn’t get off on that.”

Victoria’s ears go pink and she scoffs no fewer than four times. The shudder that runs through Max’s body when the cold water hits makes her giggle breathlessly. She hugs Victoria from behind for warmth and hums. Her cheek connects with the damp panes of Victoria’s back, the muscles moving with every minute twitch.

“I love you.”

The flats of her nails stroke circles low on Victoria’s stomach. Victoria sighs and leans into the embrace.

“I love you too.”

But, she apparently doesn’t love her enough to give her the first towel. Victoria dries herself off while Max stands shivering and wet. Max makes a few sad kitten noises before Victoria grabs another towel and rubs Max dry.

“Max, are you satisfied with our sex life?” She says airily as if asking about the weather.

After dating for about a year and change Max knows when to spot ‘insecure Victoria’. Well, to be fair, insecurity is Victoria’s default setting. She does know that when seemingly innocent and vulnerable topics like this get brought up it is best to proceed with caution.

So, she lowers her eyes and hits Victoria’s thigh with a limp towel.

“Do you need a facecloth as a reminder? I thought my orgasming all over your chin earlier would be a good sign.”

“I mean, like, do you have anything you want to try that we haven’t yet?”

“A few things here and there that I was waiting on our anniversary to ask about.” Max mumbles.

Victoria tips up the chin, tucked against Max’s chest like a scolded child, until they’re eye level.

“I am one to believe in seizing the day. You never know when a tornado will hit and wipe everyone out.”

Max’s eyes narrow and her shoulders shake a bit.

“Yeah,” she says.

A trickle of blood makes its way down her upper lip. Victoria wipes it away with a concerned noise. Max’s eyes look like the calm surface of an impossibly deep lake. Brown-black eyelashes fan and flutter and Max is back.

“Where did you go?” Victoria says.

“Nowhere important, playing hide and seek in waterfalls. That’s all.”

She pushes past Victoria on her way out of the bathroom. It feels like the temperature’s dropped, but not in a soothing way.

Victoria’s teeth chatter and she remembers the last time she was this cold. There was rain everywhere and wind whipping at her hands, something was tearing the roof off the school and people were screaming.

No, that never happened. She rolls her jaw and leaves the bathroom with one last shudder.

The fuck was that?

While going unsaid, the knowledge that the other is sexually curious or otherwise unsatisfied lingers around the apartment like a bad smell. Max waves it away while making a grilled cheese and groupchatting with the few Blackwell peers she keeps up with.

Victoria comes in with the sound of jangling keys and more than one pair of heels clacking. One of her classmates, Sandy(?) is mid laugh when she catches sight of Max.

Max is dressed, admittedly, like a cross between a toddler and a slob. Her shirt is a men’s medium that says Arcadia Bay, Home of the Red Herrings and has the appropriate logo for the shitty town baseball team. In comparison, the overall cutoffs look a size too small. The humidity of living on the fifth floor has every part of her ensemble, hair included, looking like a Dali painting.

The thing about Victoria’s choice in company is that she never seems to lose her eye for other shallow, mean girls. Her reasoning behind it is ‘find the other most ruthless person in the room and keep them close’. Sandy isn’t as ruthless as Nathan Prescott. She is more of the following type like Taylor or Courtney. She does, however, wrinkle her brows in nose in judgement of Max’s outfit.

Victoria strides past her to kiss the back of Max’s neck.

“You look cute.” She says.

Max bumps her head against Victoria’s chin.

“Compliments won’t grill you a cheese.” Max says.

“We just got back from Sushi, anyway.” Sandy says.

Who in this day and age is named Sandy? Did this girl not get picked on for having the name of a Spongebob character? Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but children are shitheads.

It hits her in the chest when it shouldn’t. Victoria had class and must’ve stopped for lunch on the way back. Not so much as a texted invitation. She went out while Max was at home making a sandwich. It’s so… suburban housewife blues.

The bitter pill sucked on like a mint, a taste known all too well. Exclusion. False joy spreads poorly across her face and she can see that flash of cruelty in Sandy’s eyes.

Victoria takes a step back, noticing her faux pas.

“Cool. Cool cool cool.” Max says.

She pointedly checks her group chat. Victoria stands there a moment with an open mouth before retreating to the living room. She and Sandy talk about a project for fashion photography in low voices.

It’s not like Max isn’t used to Victoria’s mean girl friends treating her like she’s just a weird roommate and not one half of a relationship. She’s just used to Victoria being on her side.

Which she is. As evidenced by the neck kiss, but….

Feelings are weird.

Max retreats to their room, the least subtle hangdog. She’s even gonna get crumbs in the bed.

She flips Sandy a subtle bird as she goes, settling in with Victoria’s tablet and picking up on where she left off on Better Call Saul.

Carbs, however, always make her drowsy. She wakes up when the lights snap on and sees Victoria standing at the foot of the bed, legs crossed at the knee and lips pursed.

“Hey.”

Max groans and gets up on her elbows.

“Hey.”

“Did you fall asleep listening the the sad Hulk theme on repeat?”

“That’s a redundant question.”

Victoria sit down on the edge of the bed, air escaping her with a huff in the motion.

“I take it you’re pissed at me.” She says.

She’s inspecting her manicure with nonchalance, but her knee is bouncing.

Max sits up, wincing as a scattered mess of bread and cheese crumbs trickle down her front.

“I wouldn’t say pissed. My fuse only goes for about three minutes. Then I get sleepy.” She kicks her feet against the bed.

Victoria laughs nervously, “I mean if you are still a little bit mad you could always punish me.”

Caught in a yawn, Max needs an additional twenty seconds to process that sentence.

“Punish you how?”

Victoria’s face goes pink, she’s picking lint from her blouse.

“You could, um, you know… spank me or whatever.” Her voice raises with faux authority at the end.

Fully awake, Max says, “Is this what you were trying to bring up the other day?”

“Yeah. I wanna explore… uh, BDSM. I want you to dominate me.” She clears her throat.

Max scoots closer, grabbing the back of Victoria’s arm.

“I already top you.” Max’s face is a mess of confusion.

“Not with clamps or a paddle.”

“So you want more toys?”

“I want more rules too.” Victoria bounces on the spot.

“That sounds creepy. I’m not gonna be like, ‘No trimming your vag on Sunday nights because I like it fluffy.’ It’s controlling and you should do what you want.”

“You don’t like my ladyscaping?” Victoria’s voice gets very small.

“I like that you like your ladyscaping. It’s better than getting stubble burn on my cheeks from blowing you.”

“And you don’t get pubes on your tongue.” Victoria huffs.

“You’d prefer if I waxed?” Yeah, the volley back doesn’t feel nice.

“I think your messy bush is cute,” Victoria slaps a hand against the mattress, “and that’s not what I meant! I meant you telling me I can’t cum until you say so. I want rules like being told to get on all fours and present for you. Being told not to move unless told. You taking your sweet time lubing up the strap on while my arms and legs get shaky.”

Victoria stops abruptly, realizing how much of her hand she just showed. A shy glance at Max has her snorting.

She’s never seen Max’s eyes this big. Her mouth is open, like always, and her breathing heavily.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. That’s what I want… if you wanna try.”

“I think I can do that.” Max says.

It’s like watching a weight lifted off and Victoria bounces up.

“Good. I’ve got these ideas for a bondage scene.”

The duct tape was her idea, but Max did some research and found a tape that clings, but doesn’t hurt the skin and is easy to break. Part of the thrill was the pain of hard stick biting into her wrists. Safety first though.

Arms up, hands wrapped around bedposts. Max’s breath is beating down on her as she brings the roll around Victoria’s wrists.

The act of being unable to see really does enhance the other senses. Victoria’s skepticism is built in from years of one or both parents leaning into her ear to whisper.

“This isn’t real. You can see the strings.”

Doubt is a default.

But, in this dark warmth, this trust, there’s no room for doubt. Her breathing is fast and harsh.

“Easy.” Max says.

Her voice is hoarse and deep. Victoria feels its effect trickle from her throat down to her groin.

“Say ‘Red’ if you want me to stop, ‘Yellow’ if you need a moment, and ‘Green’s a given.”

“This is giving me weird fantasies involving schoolyard games with you.”

“Hon, that’s like a summary of our relationship.”

That laugh helps some of the nervousness. Victoria can imagine Max rubbing the side of her nose and trying to get into character.

Instead she hears too quick breathing and the tape clatter to the floor.

“Max?”

“He. You. I can’t.”

Then the sound of footsteps retreating towards the bathroom. Victoria jerks, pulling her wrists apart, the tape tears. Off goes the blindfold and she’s following the sound of retching.

“Max, are you okay?”

Max is white knuckled gripping the bowl, eyes wild and blood pouring from both nostrils.

“I saw… you were--”

She heaves again.

Victoria crouches, pulling Max’s hair away from her face.

“You were tied up and drugged and I couldn’t--I didn’t do anything to save you.”

“Max, you’re scaring me. What are you talking about?”

She makes a wounded noise and rests her head against the bowl.

“I don’t know! But, I saw and it felt so real.”

Victoria’s hand pauses in rubbing her back. Something is pounding against her temple, a memory, or lack thereof. Red light, a cold floor. The snapping of a camera.

“Please don’t leave me tied to a bedpost again.”

Max’s head lolls to look up at her, “I am so sorry.”

There’s a puddle of growing blood on the plastic seat. Victoria watches it drip into the bowl, then removes her hand from Max’s back to flush.

“Red light.” She says.

Max has never been a workaholic, but art school projects have been stacking up and she actually has to break a sweat to complete them. Art theory, drawing, photography, even the film course she took for shits and giggles is kicking her ass.

Still, busy and distracted is better than thinking about what happened that night. Things in the bedroom have been routine. Hands, mouths, soft breath and skin. Not boring, but nothing out of their comfort zone.

The comfort zone isn’t a bad thing. Honestly, it would be a great name for a mattress store.

Her pen makes messy strokes on her journal drawing out ink and paper versions of her and Victoria in a land of soft beds.

“Max, did you finish the ten second short yet?” Her classmate, Avery says.

He leans over her shoulder to look at what she’s drawing. Max snaps the book shut.

“I was gonna do it this weekend.”

“Ugh, it’s like four seconds longer than a vine and I have no ideas. What are you doing?”

“I was gonna remake The Very Hungry Caterpillar with puppets.”

“...Okay, I’m gonna ask Phil to help with ideas.”

She sighs, the weight of her lie resting at her shoulders. Avery scavenges ideas like low hanging fruit, content to make do with what other trees drop. His films are bruised cherries, pits and stems the same shape as another classmate’s. The teacher’s lips pull thinner and thinner with each pirated submission.

Her film was submitted yesterday. A ten second short about a girl who goes back in time to watch herself die.

Autobiographical. She flips back the pages to senior year. Nothing out of the ordinary, no drawings of skulls or tornadoes, but the after-image sticks to the backs of her eyes.

“Wanna watch The Girl Who Lept Through Time? We liked the last Hosoda film we watched.” Victoria says.

Her voice has that light nasally pitch reserved for Blackwell’s walls and conversations with Sandy. It hides the quivering insecurity of nights spent lying back to back, neither sleeping or talking.

They’re too young to have all these unsaid things filling the rift between them. Instead of objecting, saying they should go out dancing, skinnydipping, a bike ride for two, get lost in neon lights.

Max says, “Sure.”

And keeps her nose pressed into Victoria’s back as she watches her make popcorn. Something about growing up rich and bored, Victoria has a very particular pallette and way of doing things. Popcorn, must be homemade. Popped in a hot pot with a thick bottom and coated in butter. She likes to imagine them as tiny people, huddled up in their shells, too afraid to express themselves. Add a little bit of heat and oil and…

Pop! Look at those beautiful puffs. Turning from rocks into clouds.

Victoria flicks her wrist, elbow working against Max’s ribs. Max disappears from the kitchen light. This time she won’t be too late. She checks the film cartridge. Three photos. Goddamn she goes through film quickly. Digital really is easier on the wallet. It doesn’t make artifacts though. People don’t walk into her house to look through her digital camera. They do admire the photo wall.

Max admires Victoria’s profile. The flickering of the blue gas fire. Golden kernels in mid air.

Click-hiss.

Three shots drop in quick succession.

Victoria turns, shading on her face shifting from ominous to a moody side light that catches the weight of her full lips and lids. The highlight of a strong cheekbone ending in childlike roundness.

“You creep.” She says fondly.

Max smiles crooked, standing with toes pointed inward.

“One cannot let inspiration strike and fail to answer its call. Especially with such a beautiful muse.”

Victoria scoffs, “You mixed your metaphors.”

Her ears are bright red and she’s frowning to hide a smile.

Max laughs.

“Shut up!”

That chasm feels a little more shallow with each belly laugh. Max wants to be okay.

They can be okay.

Max is caught between wanting to surprise Victoria, and the joy of shopping together (with Victoria’s credit card).

Her cursor darts between items, yeah, it doesn’t feel right to be doing this alone.

As if summoned, the door swings open, Victoria in Doc Martins and skinny jeans is a sight that does things to behold. God, she loves butch girls.

She pulls out the chair next to Max.

“Looking at goodies?” She says with a catlike grin.

“Mmhm, goodies for your goodies.”

“Okay, what do you have so far?”

Max clicks, ‘My Cart’. She can feel the blush creeping up her chest and neck as Victoria regards her choices with a stone face. Nipple clamps, beads, vibrator wand, lube.

“We should get an internal vibrator.” She says.

Max nods, her leg is shaking against the table. Victoria’s hand wraps around her knee.

“And, we can afford the Hitachi. We don’t need a knock off. Doing this properly is something we can afford.”

Max scoffs softly, “Something you can afford.”

“Think of it this way, the more I spend my parents money on depraved fetish toys, the better use it’s being put to.”

“Don’t you think they’ll get freaked out when they check your credit card bills?” Max says.

“Do you honestly think this is the first time my parents’ money is being spent on kink?”

Victoria puts her palm on Max’s cheek, fingers extending to eclipse her face. Max looks up at Victoria with concern. Her girlfriend looks back at her, pain pouring off her expression.

“I was looking in their closet for Christmas presents once.”

“No.” Max says softly, it’s more like mouthing the word.

Victoria folds her lips over her teeth and nods silently.

“You poor child.”

Over two hundred dollars plus shipping and handling later, Max is leaning against Victoria on the couch. Netflix titles go by, suggested for them because they glanced at an Adam Sandler movie once and Netflix wants to push its own shows.

“Isn’t this the one that a bunch of Native actors walked off set for?” Max says.

She gets up to fetch the tub of ice cream from the freezer. Any bowl she gets for herself will be sampled to the last scoop by Victoria. Dishing two bowls is just easier.

“So, I take it that’s a ‘no’?” Victoria says.

“Adam Sandler can suck my dick.”

“I thought that was an honour reserved for me and me only.” Victoria actually sounds petulant.

“That one’s in the dishwasher because of the filthy things we used it for.”

Victoria basks in that memory.

“Well, Netflix is a wasteland, I have a movie I want to show you though.”

Outside the air is stiff, but they’re piled in front of the fan. Victoria’s laptop is plugged into the TV and Maggie Gyllenhaal is getting her ass jerked off on by James Spader. Max side eyes her girlfriend.

Victoria stutters through explanations.

“Like, 50 Shades might have been Twilight fanfiction, but a lot of it was ripped off from this movie.”

Which makes Max’s eyebrows crawl up.

It’s like seeing the positive image after looking at the negative. She can see all the intentions behind the flaws of the imitation. A film about two damaged people using BDSM as a way to heal and grow.

She totally cries at the end, but she’ll deny it if Victoria tells anyone.

“So, if you’re queer little me and your parents are out at a swinger party that you’re pretending you don’t know about--”

Max gags.

“--Tell me about it. And you’re on your third box of Dad’s oatmeal cookies when you come across this on Bravo, and maybe they’ll pay attention if they found out you watched porn. So, you put this movie on and find yourself glued to the screen and clutching the pillows when she self harms. It was supposed to be this petty revenge, but instead it was an epiphany.”

Max tilts her head back to observe Victoria’s profile. She looks so soft and bare in this moment. By the time she’s got her camera in hand, the moment is gone. She worries her lip, unable to rewind. It’s better this way. She appreciates the fleeting moments more when she can’t replay them over and over. Stretching out the tape until it doesn’t look or sound right anymore.

Instead, she lightens the mood with a quote from Community,

“I hope this doesn’t awaken something in me.”

“Exactly.”

“I get it. Thank you for sharing with me. I understand that it’s become a part of you.” Max says.

Victoria’s blinking rapidly to avoid tears, like she needs to put those walls up when they’re alone.

“I know it’s silly,” She wipes at her eyes, “But they’re so weird and they find someone perfect and they have to work at it and it’s so much realer than any love story I’ve seen. And watching it for the first time, I saw what I wanted.”

Max spoons her side and kisses the tip of her upper lip.

“You wanted a Mr. Grey to punish you?”

Victoria makes a strangled noise and sits rigid. Max calls it her ‘Mrs. Chase pose’ because she adopts it around her parents.

“I wanted to be wanted and taken care of and played with.” She scrubs at her arms.

Max grabs at one of her wrists and presses her thumb against a scar there. Victoria’s always said it was a chemical burn from developing solution and now Max is looking at it with fresh eyes.

“I understand now. I get it.” She exhales shakily.

“You’re really cool with it?”

“Yeah, but I wanna do it safe and properly. When you, uh, mentioned it. I Googled if there were any Youtube tutorials and came across a local place that has lessons. I thought maybe we could check it out?”

Victoria covers her face with her admittedly large hands.

“Oh my god.”

“I also might have come across your lurking Fetlife.”

“You went through my computer?” Her voice gets shrill.

Max rubs her arm, “Well, you left the window and all your tabs open.”

“Max, just ask me next time.” She sighs.

“I’m sorry.”

Victoria presses her palm to Max’s forehead and squeezes. Max makes a scrunched up face in response.

“I’ll forgive you this time.” She crosses her arms.

Max opens her eyes.

“That’s it?”

Victoria’s voice is light, “Yeah. Totally. I get you need to have boundaries enforced.”

Max crawls over a pillow to sit in Victoria’s lap. Grey eyes dart around, looking anywhere but Max’s face.

“You’re hiding something. You’re never magnanimous.” Max says.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Max raises her eyebrows, chin tilted back.

Sweat trickles down Victoria’s temple.

“Okay, fine. I went through your diary and found some entries from high school.”

“Max, what the hell is with the stuff about time travel?”

That catches her off guard, she was expecting an interrogation about some very explicit drawings.

“I… uh, after the gun incident I started experiencing lost time. Waking up doing things I don’t remember starting and getting really bad nosebleeds. I could remember things that didn’t happen, but couldn’t remember things that did. Like, I can swear that I watched Nathan shoot Chloe and she died on the floor of the bathroom, and I also remember her living.”

“Your ex who goes to Berkeley?”

“Yeah. It’s weird.”

“Nathan shot her to death in the bathroom?”

Max’s nose starts bleeding.

“This is so much more serious than you going through my computer.” Victoria blows out a breath.

“Love the Incase folder by the way.”

Victoria rolls her jaw and blinks at Max with wide eyes.

“I just lost my train of thought.” She says.

“Well, we were talking about the potential existence of alternate universes and time travel, but it was making my brain hurt, so I distracted you with porn.”

“Max this is serious!”

“I know, Victoria. But, there’s nothing I can do about it and it’s better left alone. We live in one of the nice timelines, so let’s just enjoy it. Please.” Her voice breaks on that.

Victoria looks at Max, really looks at her for what feels like the first time. Past the insecurity, humour, and mischief there is a deep weariness. A existential exhaustion. Something ancient.

There’s a moment in every couples relationship when one or both wonder if they know the other at all.

“Time travel’s a big thing to forget about.”

“So is my dick.” Max says.

Victoria huffs, throwing up her arms.

“Fine, I’m dropping the subject like it’s my new mixtape.”

“Baby, don’t drop something that hot. You’re gonna burn a hole in the rug.”

Their last class was yesterday. Today was spent in the car singing along to anything that came on. Sunny day songs by Sheryl Crow, Aqua, and The Spice Girls. Sticking one arm out the car window and playing the airplane game, because it’s Orange County and the traffic isn’t insane literally all of the time.

LED lights hang like fruit from horizontal trellises overhead. The air itself is floral and sweet. Mia, a mutual classmate from art history, has a house in the armpit of wine country. Feet bare on damp grass and wearing sundresses. Giggling into cups of microbrewed red served in mason jars.

“So, we can work on the Dominance and submission, while building up to bondage. I mean, we don’t have to, but I would like to try again.” Victoria says.

The straps on Max’s floral dress keep sliding down her skinny shoulders, it’s tantalizingly distracting. All of those freckles leading down, down the rabbit hole towards temptation. Her fingers trace them as she replaces the strap. It settles for now, and Max hums into the rim of her glass.

“I think,” She slurs, leaning nose-first on Victoria, “I think I can do that. No tape though. No tape.”

“No tape.” Victoria repeats, “Handcuffs?”

Max hisses through her teeth.

“Silk scarves?”

A warm breath against her bare arm and then Max nodding.

“Silk scarves aren’t scary.”

“Say that five times fast, drunk girl.”

“Silkscarvesaren’tscaly…. Sillkk scaves aren’t scary. Fuck.”

Victoria laughs, messing up Max’s hair with one hand. She can feel the pout against her arm.

“Aww, baby. You’re so cute. You’re like a puppy that’s been offended by its own butt.”

“Keep talking like that Chase and we’ll see who’s getting tied up.”

Victoria nods, squints, then tilts her head.

“Is it still me?”

“No, I was meaning to infer that I would not be down for your depravivivity if you kept up the sass.” Max has one hand on her hip, leaning away from Victoria defiantly.

“Depravity.” Victoria boops Max’s nose.

“This is the sass I’m talking about!”

Max wobbles and leans against Victoria again.

“You lightweight.”

“I’m not a lightweight.” Max says.

She walks a crooked line to demonstrate, bumping Mia in the process. Mia smiles and laughs a tiny puff of air.

“Good thing it’s harder to spill out of mason jars. How are you two lovely ladies enjoying the party?”

Victoria snaps into ‘rich polite’ mode.

“We’re having a great time. It’s just lovely, thank you for inviting us.”

“This is good wine. Sweet, tastes less like sour grape juice than other wines. I have a very refined grape juice pallette.” Max says.

“Max here, is a little tipsy.”

Max continues, making a face not unlike Don Corleone.

“Tell me, how much apple juice do you cut this with? I’m guessing forty percent.”

Mia ruffles Max’s hair, “It’s a secret recipe.”

“Why does everyone keep messing up my six do’ like I’m five?” Max huffs and storms towards the house.

Mia smiles at Victoria. A deep breath has her posture loosening. Mia has the demeanour of that cool teacher you had a crush on in highschool. Except, not, because unlike the teacher Victoria had a crush on, she’s pretty sure Mia doesn’t have a murder bunker.

She bites her lip hard enough to draw blood.

“You and Max are very close. I always thought you were a cold fish until I saw the two of you outside of class.”

Victoria flinches at the voice.

“Sorry, I speak my mind a lot. That came out as insulting.” Mia laughs.

It’s easier for her to be so easy-going, Californian through and through. Her dark skin looks richer with a day’s worth of sunkisses, dark eyes crinkled at the corners of her eyes and wrinkled from smiling.

“It’s colder in Oregon.” Victoria says.

“Where you live has the ability to get inside you, but I’m guessing that’s not entirely the case with you two. Max mentioned you went to the same high school. Acadia Bay?”

“Arcadia Bay. The town at the end of the world.”

Victoria wipes her nose, there’s no blood, just clear nasal drip. Her breath comes out shaky. The warm brush of a hand on her bicep has her looking up at Mia.

“Isn’t that the town where that photographer was kidnapping teenage girls?” She tries to say.

But, she’s cut off by Max doing a jump kick off the porch.

“I should really get her home before she picks a fight with someone.”

Mia raises her eyebrows looking like she wants to continue their conversation.

“Trust me,” Victoria’s voice tightens then loosens, “She’s a mean drunk.”

Victoria ends up piggybacking Max back to the car. She’s light, but keeps kicking her feet and knocking her grass weave flip flops onto the ground.

“Max, I’m gonna leave you shoes behind if you keep being a brat.”

“Leave ‘em, they’re a present for the Totoros.” She says very seriously.

Tired to kneeling to pick them up, Victoria decided to listen to Max and just leaves them. Max snickers loudly into her ear.

“What if there were actually Totoros, Victoria? Walking around going flop flop flop. I mean, if time travel’s real, then anything’s game.”

They reach the car and Victoria leans against it. Max is positioned to get off, but Victoria’s hand crawls higher on her thigh. Max’s sour breath is hot against her neck and shoulder, her fingers are gripping Victoria’s bicep.

Max licks dry lips and slides a hand down the front of Victoria’s dress to cup a bare breast.

“Thank you for the ride, Pet.” She says, voice shaking.

It’s unsteady ground, territory unexplored and full of pitfalls.

Victoria whines and pants through her teeth.

“Anything for you, Mistress.”

The drive back toward LA is tense with want. Max’s knee jiggles against the bottom of the glovebox, making the occasional painful thud. Her hands are sticky with sweat and candy on Victoria’s thigh.

The decision to stop at a roadside fruit stand, boarded up for the night, is a snap one. Max is out of her seat and crawling into the back with crooked fingers. Fingers that dip into Victoria’s soaked panties with one hand and wrapping (to the best of their ability) around Victoria’s bigger wrists. The loss of mobility and power makes it hard for her to breathe, but that could just be the humid air.

Passing headlights illuminate the whites of Max’s eyes as she pauses to ask,

“Is this okay?”

Victoria can’t swallow hard enough to dislodge the stone feeling in her throat, so she just nods.

“You can’t cum until I say so.” Max says.

Her ribs stutter with each short breath. She can feel sweat trailing down her neck and between her breasts. Max follows the path with her tongue. Her thumb swipes at Victoria’s clit, two fingers pumping inside then pulling out to stroke the folds.

She’s caught on that knife’s edge, close to peaking every time a car swishes past.

“Cum.” Max growls.

Victoria’s head hits the plastic window guard. Max rides her thigh to orgasm, leaving a wet streak on Victoria’s thigh. They sit there panting, eyes huge and dresses askew.

“What if someone pulled over and saw us like this?” Victoria says.

“Do you want them to see what a dirty girl you are?”

Victoria’s sigh ends with a whine, “Max, getting home is going to be long if you keep riling me up.”

Max will not stop wiggling her eyebrows. Fortunately, she passes out about five minutes later. Victoria adjusts her to a much more comfortable position. She’s got her brows scrunched up and her mouth open. Victoria buckles her in and climbs over the console.

A knock at the window has her swearing and just avoiding the gear shift with her foot. Her head smacks the rearview mirror.

A cop is standing outside, flashlight in hand causing her pupils to shrink.

Victoria’s pulse hammers in her throat.

“Something wrong, Officer?” She bats her lashes.

“Just wanted to check if everything was alright.” He says.

His flashlight reaches Max in the back seat. She groans and shifts.

“Little sister have a long day?” He says.

Victoria opens her mouth to correct him that Max is her girlfriend. But, he seems to be under the impression that the person in the back seat is a minor.

Today is not the day to get brought in on suspicion of being a creep.

“Yup, the sun got to her.”

“No car trouble?” He says.

It’s weird, cause the window’s open, that he doesn’t smell the reek of sex in the car.

“Nope.” Her voice goes high.

“Well, you ladies have a nice night.”

He pulls away and Victoria waits for her hands to stop shaking before she starts the car.

Attempt number two. No blindfolds for starters. The clamps on her nipples are attached by a pale silver chain that matches her choker. Sunset bathes the ceiling in purples and reds.

“Don’t move.” Max says.

Those nimble fingers are tracing her veins with flat nails. The silk scarf doesn’t feel any different from rope when wrapped around her wrists. Max slides one, two, three fingers between the scarf and skin, checking for circulation. She does the same on Victoria’s ankles, the joints bound together, leaving her spread and vulnerable.

“Does that feel comfortable?” Max says.

Victoria nods, “Yeah.”

Max pats her thigh and takes a shaky breath.

“Okay. Okay. Love you.” She kisses Victoria with pursed duck lips.

“I trust you.” Victoria says.

She watches the transformation. Max’s face softens, then a strength bleeds from her eyes, down to a set mouth and jaw. Power rolls off her. Her shoulders square and she smirks down at Victoria.

Max opens and closes her mouth.

“I wanna say something sexy, but I can’t think of anything.”

Victoria laughs, her head hitting the back of the pillow.

“Maxine, you could say ‘avocados’ and the basement would be like… flooded.”

“Sometimes I just wish I wasn’t such a dweeb.”

“Don’t. You being a dweeb turns me on.”

“Flatterer.”

Victoria opens her mouth to speak, but all that comes out is a gasp as a very lubed up plug slips into her ass. Her head tips back and slams into the pillow.

Max tips her head into her grin, click following the gesture as the plug starts to vibrate at a low speed. Victoria opens her mouth to speak or something but all that comes out is a strangled noise and some drool.

“Uh-uh, no finishing until I say so.”

Max’s first knuckle slips under the choker serving as Victoria’s collar to pull her chin to eye level.

“Do you understand me?” Max says.

“Y-yes.”

Max slaps Victoria’s cunt hard. She yelps.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes Mistress!”

Victoria’s chest heaves, her throat is dry but her mouth can’t stop salivating. She hears the click of another vibrator and the shift of air. Apprehension, anticipation. Two fingers spread her slit and she shrieks as the round head of the Hitachi hits her.

There’s a pressure and buzzing inside to match the insistent vibration against her clit. Not a single train of thought leaving her brain to her mouth. All she knows in this moment is that she cannot cum until Max lets her.

The pressure disappears and instead of worrying about disobedience she’s floundering and humping the air.

“W-why-why did you stop?” She smacks her lips.

“I decided that you don’t get to cum until after you’ve gotten me off.” Max says, turning the Hitachi off.

Victoria makes a frustrated whine and frog wiggles against the sheets.

Max tugs her head into place before mounting it. Victoria pants against hot, wet flesh before taking it into her mouth. The only thought now is ‘pleasure Mistress’. She bats at Mistress’s clit with her tongue at first. Then she switches to drawing letters against the nub. Max-no Mistress squirms above her.

Were her hands free, she’d be gripping her Mistress’s ass and pulling her slit closer to her mouth. She wants to fuck every hole she can reach with her tongue, but she’s the pet and she must obey. Only what Mistress wants.

A shifted knee changes the trajectory of her mouth. Her tongue slips up and inside the source of that wetness. Her eyes roll back at the feeling of tight muscle squeezing and milking her probing tongue. Cum coats her mouth. She’s lost in the sea of nectar and musk. A tug to the chain connecting her nipples brings her back ashore with a yelp.

“Nurse my clit, Pet.” Mistress tells her.

She obeys, treating the nub like a nipple. Thighs box her head and her Mistress tugs the chain. A stream of cum dribbles down folds and into her mouth. She smacks her lips, blowing on the swollen flesh to keep the aftershocks going.

Mistress tips onto her side and Victoria blinks away the shrinking of her pupils at fresh light. A hand grips her jaw, thumb stroking a lazy pattern on her chin.

“Good girl. Are you ready for Mistress to punish your pussy and ass some more?”

Incapable of speech, Victoria nods.

Her knee is cramping up and the words ‘yellow light’ at hammering against her teeth. Turns out she doesn’t need to say it. Max checks her face with concern.

“How are your knees and ankles?”

Victoria winces in response.

“I’m gonna let you rest, then we can change positions.” She says.

The sigh of relief that comes out surprises Victoria. Small hands make light work of the bonds on her legs. She stretches them out and arcs her back with a yawn.

Max holds the back of her head and pours water into her mouth. Victoria gulps it down and coughs, holding a hand up to pause.

“Sorry, sorry!”

“Just went down the wrong hole.” She winces, breathing through her nose and out through her mouth until her diaphragm stops spasming.

“Maybe the Heimlich Maneuver should be part of safe sex?” Max says.

“Maneuver yourself into Lich-ing my Heim-y.” Victoria shoots back.

Max snorts and covers her face. A moment to compose herself, then she’s Mistress again. She keeps Victoria’s arms and legs straight at she ties them together at the ankle and wrist. Then she pushes until most of Victoria’s weight is on her upper back and shoulders, ass in the air and gripping the bedpost with fingers and toes.

She feels nails and fingerpads pinching and pulling the plug out. She gasps at the absence as much as she does the feeling of the intrusion. Now she’s empty and bare. A whine builds in her chest.

“Relax, I’m doing what you wanted.”

All air escapes her lungs at the feeling of a tongue replacing the plug. Mistress’s little forceful breaths send streams of air through her folds. Holding her weight on her shoulders won’t last long, she can already feel the wobbles to her equilibrium starting.

Mistress feels it too and steadies her with her own body. Her two middle fingers slip inside her, outside fingers holding her pussy lips open. The other hand brings the return of Hitachi.

She really hopes that Mistress can pull off the multi-tasking she’s implying.

The two fingers pump in and out of her without any rhythm and the Hitachi presses against her on the highest setting.

The scream that escapes her throat catches her off guard.

“Max!”

The muscles in Mistress’s neck and arms strain at pumping in and out of her and keeping the pressure of the vibrator.

“Pleasepleasepleaseplease.”

The word is a chant, the chant ceases to be actual words and is just a series of noises.

Mistress has to remove her tongue to respond.

“Since you asked so nicely. Cum now Victoria or I won’t let you cum again.”

The jet of ejaculate that shoots out of her forces Mistress’s fingers out, but she maintains the Hitachi, rolling circles up the folds and against the clit.

Tears and sweat mix on the pillow beside Victoria’s head. It’s too much physical strain and she has to tip over. Sobs wrack her body with each aftershock.

Max coos, removing the vibrator and setting about untying her bonds.

“You did such a good job. What a good pet.”

She pats Victoria’s hot cheeks with a cool, wet cloth. Victoria can do nothing but pant and sob while the cloth trails down her throat, between her breasts and thighs. Max rubs the rope marks on her wrists and ankles.

“How are you feeling?”

Victoria tries to get her eyes to stop rolling, she nods and wets her lips.

“Max, that was amazing.”

“Would you like some water?”

Victoria nods. She takes the bottle from Max and drains half of it. Max is hovering on her knees, fingers outstretched for the bottle. She hands it back and watches Max’s throat as she drinks.

She opens up her body, Max puts the bottle down and crawls into Victoria’s arms. Together they feel their hammering pulses even out.

“You are one filthy bitch.” Max says.

Victoria snorts and says with heavy sarcasm, “Yes I am, Mistress.”

“Brat.”