Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/4387484.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/F
  Fandom:
      Life_Is_Strange_(Video_Game)
  Relationship:
      Maxine_Caulfield/Victoria_Chase
  Character:
      Victoria_Chase_(Life_is_Strange), Maxine_Caulfield
  Additional Tags:
      Mom_Dad_Please_Don't_Read, pretty_much_pure_smut
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-07-21 Words: 5378
****** (something something) you get me closer to god ******
by Dandybear
Summary
     Max returns from the AU to her own Universe to find, that while it
     hasn't changed much, she has.
     PWP.
Notes
     This was a birthday gift for my wonderful Beta. They wanted
     Chasefield hatesex and I have delivered.
     This is sinful, parents, please don't read this.
     I wonder how many smut fics are named after Nine Inch Nails songs.
     (Closer btw.)
Blood is dripping from your nose, but that’s nothing new. This universe looks
familiar, scurrying grey-black clouds and an oppressive sense of dread. You
check your text messages. The most recent is from Chloe. Chloe with fingers
that can type. Chloe with blue hair and a ‘can’t do’ attitude when it comes to
rules, establishments, and her stepfather; David Madsen.
 
You rub the blood away from your nose and make your way towards the dorms. Does
this universe move without you? Is there another Max Caulfield, now displaced
from this body. Maybe it was a straight swap between you and ‘Popular Max’. How
jarring that must have been. Her waking up as some loser nobody with the end of
the world hanging over her like a cartoonish anvil.
 
Thankfully, the walk to the dorms is quiet, not too quiet. The regular amount.
You swing the door open using your whole body and see the other girls gathered
in the hall outside Kate’s room.
 
Jesus fuck, what now?
 
The police tape is scattered at the bottom like toilet paper. Taylor seems to
be leaning against-slash-talking into it.
 
Three guesses who’s inside.
 
“What’s going on?” You say, not trying to betray how tired you are.
 
It’s Juliet who answers, “Victoria totally snapped and locked herself in Kate’s
room. We’re wondering if we should call the cops or the principal or
something.”
 
You are so done, “Jesus, people did we learn nothing from Tuesday?!” You say.
 
A few of them jump, noticing you for the first time.
 
“How do you always sneak up like that?” Alyssa says.
 
You shove your way through the crowd. Of course you’re worried about Victoria.
Victoria is loyal and sweet. The kind of person who’ll drive anywhere at night
to drop you off or pick you up. The girl you take into the woods to help you
bury a body. The same girl who, after getting rid of your evidence covered
clothing, will take you out for all day breakfast at 4 AM and hold your hand
while watching the sunrise.
 
Rather, Other Victoria is loyal and sweet. This is Your Victoria. She’s nasty
and jealous and fake. Somewhere in there is a person with a loyal heart and
sweet disposition. You’ve seen her once or twice. She’s in the mirror when
Victoria dabs at her lipstick. She’s clutching Taylor’s sleeve when they watch
a film on spine injuries in Biology. She’s in every picture she takes that
isn’t some big attempt to show off.
 
Taylor’s mascara is running. She folds her arms, a shield against your judging
eyes. Her ears burn hot, thinking of how you chewed her out in the bathroom.
Yeah, well having a sick mother doesn’t excuse you from behaving like a total
asshole.
 
“Victoria’s in there.” She says, redundantly.
 
You blink and hammer the heel of your palm against the door. The others around
you flinch at the noise. There’s a pregnant pause followed by a drunk sounding,
 
“Taylor, I told you to fuck off!”
 
“Victoria, it’s me. Let me in.” You use a no-nonsense voice.
 
Thank you, Alternate Universe for the experience spent with Alternate Victoria.
Her need-to-please attitude made for fast submission. If you know her -and you
do, you fucking know her in your bones, it feels like you were forged from the
same cloud of stardust- you know that having orders barked at her will have her
on her back showing her belly.
 
The door opens, but only for you. Taylor sniffs loudly and bites a knuckle. Her
envy is noted.
 
Victoria is slumped against the floor, bottle of wine in one hand, photograph
in the other. You stare down at her. She’s at your feet, somewhere you know she
likes to be, worshipping you, licking at your heels.
 
“What are you doing?” You say.
 
“Drinking. What the fuck does it look like I’m doing?”
 
“Being a drama queen and feeling sorry for yourself.”
 
You sit on Kate’s bed. Victoria maintains a sullen silence.
 
“Did you grow a pair sometime in the last ten hours, Max? Or did you always
have some? Would explain the jeans and plaid.”
 
You ignore the dig. She’s trying to distract you and herself with her own brand
of very sexual bullying that you now know is born from lust.
 
Her easy attempts at seduction by kissing your ear or taking picture after
picture of you works so much better. It’s not like this method isn’t exactly
working though. You cross your legs and squeeze.
 
“Why do you hide yourself away, Victoria?”
 
That has her going redder than the wine blush and looking anywhere but you.
 
“Kate’s so talented. It pisses me off. Like, she can play violin, she can draw,
Jefferson loves her photos, and have you ever had PE with her?”
 
You shake your head. Victoria emphatically gestures to her stomach.
 
“Abs, Max. Fucking Bible Belt has these soft looking, flawless abs.”
 
Her pupils are huge. Maybe she took an MDMA, or it could just be the light.
They don’t get that big when she’s aroused. You would know. Other Victoria
spent so much of her time orbiting you with shy touches and knowing smiles.
 
She is and is not your lover. You should know how to speak to her. You know how
she’ll react. What to say that will make her flinch or bark.
 
“So, what, you bullied Kate into suicidal depression because you were envious?
Or because you wanted to fuck her and you don’t know how to express that in a
healthy way?”
 
She chokes on her gulp of wine, splashing it on her cashmere. You do not
rewind. Ruining her shirts has become an enjoyable pastime.
 
The guilty look she sends you is so broken and hangdog, that you feel a little
bad. You shouldn’t though, her clumsy, shitty behaviour chased Kate to the top
of that roof.
 
“Or is it because you hate yourself so much that it overflows onto others?”
 
“You can’t talk to me like that.” Victoria says.
 
“Who’s going to stop me?” Max says.
 
It’s a challenge. Victoria looks up at her. She doesn’t know how to react. The
ground between you two has shifted and she’s struggling to regain her balance.
The wine probably isn’t helping.
 
“I’ll tell Nathan.” Victoria says.
 
“No, you won’t.”
 
You grab Kate’s pillow and hold it. It still smells like her. She’s been gone a
day, but it feels like a year. You already miss so many things about her. Her
incredibly dry humour. The way she’d draw cute bunnies on the margins of your
paper. How she always smells like lavender and bergamot.
Alternate Kate was safe, but she wasn’t your friend.
 
The silence stretches between you two until it snaps with you licking your
lips.
 
“You didn’t answer any of my questions.”
 
“What do you want from me, Max?”
 
“I want you be okay,” You sit forward with your elbows on your knees, “I want
you stop hurting so much that you hurt other people. You jerk.”
 
That jab as an afterthought gets a wet chuckle out of Victoria.
 
“I mean, it’s no excuse. I understand you, but I don’t like how you behave when
you’re acting the way you think you’re supposed to.”
 
Victoria snarls, “You don’t know shit about me, Max.”
 
“I know you have a stuffed lion named General Whiskers, the General for short,
you like Vocaloid and subtitled anime, you’re terrified of failure, and you…”
You swallow, her face is contorted between confusion and anger, “Spend a lot of
time breaking into my room and talk about me to all of your friends.”
 
That gets her standing, wobbling over to the bed. You bite back a grin. You can
still taste her lipgloss on your mouth.
 
Alternate Victoria was sweet, but your Victoria is yours. You know just how to
crawl under her skin. You’ve been doing it accidentally for over a month, and
now you know just how to do it on purpose.
 
You move your neck to expose that spot she likes to kiss. Her eyes get darker.
Her breath is coming in ragged pants.
 
“Do you really know all of that Caulfield? Been stalking me? I know you’ve been
sneaking into my room while I’m gone. Sniffing my panties, you freak?”
 
She’s got you pinned against the wall, her breath stinks like wine. You grin
and tip your head away, knocking it against the wall with a wince. Victoria
keeps breathing loudly.
 
“That’s exactly what I was doing, not exposing your disgusting sexts with
Zachary to Juliet. Did you get turned on by the thought of a football up his
ass? Because that was super gross.”
 
She growls, her mouth is so close and you know that she wants to kiss you.
There’s that heady tickle running from your stomach down to your groin at the
thought.
 
“How drunk are you?” You say.
 
She holds the bottle in front of you. It’s half empty. She waves it under your
nose.
 
“Drink.” She says.
 
“I don’t--”
 
“Have a fucking drink of wine, Max. I know you’re going to refuse to touch me
otherwise.”
 
You don’t know if she means that you won’t touch her because she can’t consent,
or that she thinks you won’t touch her unless you’re drunk. If only she knew.
 
You grab the bottle and take three large gulps. You can taste her saliva on it
and it makes you shudder. Her eyes are darting between your bobbing throat and
your lips wrapped around the head. Her hips move in time with each sip. It pops
out of your mouth and you inhale. Victoria actually moans.
 
She’s in your lap now, pushing your thighs down so she can mount them. The
bottle of wine passes from your hand to hers. She tilts the bottle against your
lips, begging you to take more.
 
You stick your tongue out and let her pour it into your mouth. It trickles out
the corners and stains the neck of your shirt. You don’t really care, these are
Rachel’s clothes anyway. Chloe’ll be pissed though. Tarnishing the last
artifacts of the Rachel Museum by coating them in wine and Victoria Chase’s
perfume.
 
“I was jealous.” Victoria says, dropping the bottle onto the floor.
 
It wobbles, but does not spill.
 
“Huh?”
 
You’re disoriented from the wine and the feeling of her wet against your thigh.
 
“You look at Kate Marsh like she’s some kind of goddess. Like she’s worth
something. I wish… I want you to look at me like that.”
 
Your head knocks back against the wall and you wince. Her hand goes to your
hair to protect your skull.
 
“Are you okay?”
 
You look down at her, a rare sight since she towers over you, and see concern
there.
 
“You’re an idiot.” You say.
 
Her lower lip wobbles, because you’re fulfilling her request. You’re looking at
her the way you look at her photos in her absence. The way you look when you’re
taking furtive glances at her in class and drawing her on the corner of your
paper.
 
You grab her by the collar and drag her into a kiss.
 
She’s whimpering and humping your leg and you’re still sitting on Kate’s bed.
This is wrong. Kate doesn’t deserve this. You pull away. She chases you lips
and meets soft cheek instead.
 
Victoria stumbles off, humiliated.
 
“What kind of fucking game are you playing?” She says.
 
She wants to sound angry but her voice and legs won’t stop shaking.
 
“Kate is my friend and you could have killed her. Over you own damn envy. I
won’t add to her pain by getting your smell all over her sheets.”
 
You stand, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. Her moment of crisis
has been averted. Now she’s full of fury. She’s scrubbing at her eyes and
avoiding your gaze. You pat your knees and move to the door.
 
“Now, let’s get out of Kate’s room shall we?”
 
Victoria grabs the bottle and struts out angrily to save face. The crowd has
mostly dispersed, but across the hall Dana has her door open and is straddling
the back of her chair to keep her eyes on the two of you. Juliet’s on her couch
texting. You meet her eyes and nod. She brings a thumb up to the corner of her
lips and wipes.
 
You follow a similar path with your fingers, eyebrows raised. After a bit of
rubbing, she nods.
 
Oh. Victoria’s lipstick.
 
You take your time heading back to your room, expecting to find Victoria hiding
there. It’s surprising to find it empty. Empty and different. You comprehend
your room in two worlds. The wine doesn’t help the fuzziness beating at your
temples. Blood dribbles from your nose to the carpet. Right onto the ‘Keep’
part of ‘Keep Calm and Carry On’. You sigh and reach for a kleenex. You’ve been
keeping them in your pockets at this point for such occasions.
 
Nothing feels right. Nothing feels the same. You’re a tourist in your own life
and you are here and not here. Floating above yourself. Floating above multiple
worlds, observing the same events play out just a little differently. You need
to be in your body. You need to crawl into your skin. It feels too tight, like
stars are trying to escape and if you tighten your fists then it’ll all just
explode.
 
It’s with a bloody nose and shirt that you’re opening Victoria’s door.
 
She’s standing there with her ruined sweater off, looking a lot more disheveled
than you'e used to.
 
“What the hell do you want, Weirdo?”
 
“Get on your knees.”
 
Her breath catches, you see the stuttering of her ribcage and the eruption of
goosebumps.
 
“How dare you.”
 
There’s no venom in her voice, it even cracks. Her knees are bending, shaking,
weak little things. You’re unzipping your jeans and walking towards her. Her
eyes are impossibly huge, lower lip quivering.
 
“Well, isn’t this what you want?” You say.
 
She takes a deep breath, grabbing your belt loops. She undoes the button and
pulls down. It’s been so long that you’ve forgotten what panties you’re
wearing. A cursory glance tells you, pale green with an alien on the front.
 
Victoria whistles the first few notes of the X-Files theme. She then begins by
rubbing your mound with two fingers.
 
You breathe out through your teeth. Fingers card through Victoria’s hair until
you have a good enough grip on her head to shove her face between your legs.
 
She makes a noise of protest and bites down, catching a bit of fold with your
clit. You cry out, not really caring who hears you at this point. Victoria
soothes the spot with a flat and broad tongue stroke. You rock forward with a
sigh. She’s mouthing the wet cotton in an infuriating way. Just take the damn
panties off.
 
You tug at her hair in frustration. She snarls back at you. You yelp as you’re
lifted by the knees and gravity sends you lurching up and back. Stars erupt
behind your eyes as your head connects with the back of her sofa.
 
Then she’s dragging your(Rachel’s) jeans down your legs and pushing your shoes
off with them.
 
“Fuck.” You grunt.
 
Because she’s pushed your panties aside and flattened her tongue, and now she’s
spreading that mixture of saliva and come up and down your slit. She’s
whimpering. You aren’t even doing anything to her and she’s coming undone.
 
Your voice feels hoarse, you wet your lips, wanting to try something.
 
“You like that don’t you? Me riding your face?” Your voice cracks.
 
Fuck, you’re so lame. You cover your red face with an arm. Victoria stops. Then
she’s pushing your arm away from your face. Her eyes are huge and she’s
panting. Her fingers replace her mouth and her mouth is dropping to your own.
 
It’s hungry and needy. You taste yourself on her. You wrap your legs around her
waist, dragging her closer. You can feel the waistband of her skirt rubbing
against you. It doesn’t hit your clit, but the thought, the idea of it hitting
the right spot every time has you making this weirdly nasal moan.
 
To Victoria’s credit, she doesn’t laugh out loud. She huffs a little into the
kiss. This is too much. It’s intimate and it’s casual.
 
“I’m going to eat you alive, Max Caulfield.” She mouths, hot against your jaw
and ear.
 
And, this is all so fucked up and topsy turvy that you’re okay with that. You
want her to.
 
“Please.” You say.
 
She takes that as the consent she needs, and you’re both drunk enough to even
this playing field enough to make you feel only a little guilty about this.
 
That being said, the moral compass of a person who reverses time to manipulate
people isn’t exactly pointing toward ‘do the right thing’.
 
She shed her cashmere before you came in. Now, you’re pulling at the buttons of
her blouse. You rip, popping off buttons, because you know it’s expensive and
it’ll piss her off.
 
She bites your lip hard enough to draw blood in retaliation.
 
“You little…!” She’s searching for a word, you watch her disoriented eyes
search through the foggy haze of her brain.
 
“Max, you’re such a shit.” She grunts, “That blouse cost more than anything you
own!”
 
Her teeth make contact with your neck and she sucks through them. Your eyes
roll backward.
 
“Sure, Victoria.”
 
Before she can get even more agitated, you’re mouthing at the skin along the
edge of her bra. She sighs into your hair and reaches for the clasp in the
back.
 
You’re a mismatched set, you with no bottoms, her with no top. She’s shrugging
off her bra and ruined blouse, about to chew you out. You cut her off with a
biting, stifling kiss.
 
“Get on the couch and bend over.” You say.
 
Again, she looks like she wants to fight you on this. She’s rolling around the
snappy retort in her mouth, but she wants it too badly. She’s always bending
over when you’re around. She’s not above taking the offer to give her what she
wants.
 
You take her skirt off, but leave her tights on. You grab them from the front
and back and use the seam to floss her clit through her panties. It has her
crying out in surprise and please.
 
Her hands fist the leather, making it creak. She lurches her head forward and
knocks the wall.
 
Tearing a hole in the semi-opaque nylon and putting your tongue through it
actually has her sobbing.
 
Good.
 
Well, a part of you is actually quite mortified that Brooke can hear this.
There’s a proud part that wants everyone to know that you can make Victoria
crack like this. And, there’s a part of you that hopes it will finally clue
Brooke in to your apathy towards Warren’s affection.
 
“Max, please!”
 
“Please what?” You say.
 
You bite her thigh for emphasis.
 
“Please... suck my clit, pound me. Fuck me until I scream.”
 
You pull her tights down, chasing the waistband with your tongue-- down over
her ass, then pressing kisses to her thighs, the back of her knee, her calf,
achilles, then her foot. She giggles and twitches. Okay, Victoria has sensitive
feet, noted.
 
You drop the garment in the heap with your jeans and her ripped blouse.
 
“Max.” You look up.
 
Fuck. She’s a sight. Looking over one pale shoulder, hair and lipstick a mess,
thong slipped halfway down her ass and spreading herself for you.
 
“Take your shirt and bra off.” Victoria says.
 
Rachel’s flannel and tank tops are off in one motion. Then you’re fumbling with
a different bra than your chlorine scented one. Maybe the other Max changed.
Weird detail.
 
“Panties too.” She says.
 
You stand, shimmying them down to your heels and kicking them to the side.
 
Victoria chokes out a, “Fuck.”
 
She turns to properly look at you. She’s balancing back on her ankles, neck
tilted up to share and open mouthed kiss. Your have your thumb and index finger
tweaking her nipples.You abandon the right one to drag your palm down her
sternum and stomach until you’re stretching the waistband of her underwear with
the movement of your wrist.
 
You don’t have the right equipment for it, but you’re humping her ass just to
try and relieve some of the tense tingling. You shove Victoria back down on all
fours and mount the spot where your clit will hit the string of her thong. Her
clit skates along your palm and there’s a sloppy slapping noise every time you
thrust your fingers inside of her.
 
The sensation of fucking Victoria Chase would give you pause, really make you
evaluate your life choices, if this weren’t your second time being knuckle deep
in her in the past twenty four hours.
 
Only, instead of a sweeter sex close to love making, this is a rough fuck.
 
You wonder if the Max Caulfield of Monday morning would do this so flippantly.
Who are you?
 
Victoria cries out, and you realise that it doesn’t really matter anymore.
 
Someone’s door is opening and slamming and there are loud footsteps down the
hall. They didn’t come from either your room or hers, so that also doesn’t
really matter.
 
Your free hand is on her hip, because her breasts are moving too fast to play
with and match your thrusts. She grabs it and leads you to her throat. Does she
really want you to choke her?
 
“Gucci.” She says.
 
You pause.
 
“Sorry, what?”
 
She makes a whine of frustration.
 
“Don’t be so fucking dense, Caulfield. If I say ‘Gucci’, then stop choking me.
Otherwise, don’t fucking stop.”
 
“What if you pass out?”
 
“Then you can stop choking me, but don’t stop fucking me.”
 
Your eyes widen. Okay, hopefully she means like, blacking out for three
seconds. Anything after that is brain damage territory.
 
“Well?” She says.
 
Your hand is too small to fully wrap around her neck so you just kind of push
on her trachea, hoping this won’t end in her dying. That would just be a
perfect end to this day.
 
The power, holding her life in one hand is intoxicating. She’s soaking wet and
you’re thrusting as hard and fast as your wrist will go. Her come is
overflowing, dripping onto and leaving a puddle on her couch and panties. She’s
making these sexy little gasps. You just need to bite the back of her neck.
 
She arches into you, muffling her scream into the sofa.
 
“I’m gonna keep fucking you until you say the magic word.” You say into her
ear.
 
Her whole body is shaking beneath you. Her arms are giving out and her hips are
jerking, grinding her ass so deliciously against you. She’s pulling at your
hand and whimpering.
 
“Gucci.”
 
You remove your left hand from her throat and use it to gather some of her come
on your fingers and present them for her to lick off. She moans around your
digits, sucking them and licking in between each finger. You remove them and
press the index against her ass.
 
She jerks, but doesn’t protest as it slips in.
 
“God, Max. You’re such a filthy bitch.”
 
“Speak for yourself.”
 
You’re pushing her thong off and mouthing at her sopping cunt. She squeals,
sensitive and flinching away from the contact. You chase her and she keeps
still, despite a few little jerks.
 
She tastes so good. Exactly the same as the other Victoria. Interesting that,
unlike her personality, is a constant.
 
“My turn.” She pants.
 
Her turning around knocks your finger and tongue out of her. Then she’s looking
down at you, you must look at least as sloppy as she does. She bites her lip
and you see some affection behind those dark eyes.
 
You’re pulled up for a kiss, straddling her lap. You rock back and forth
between kisses because your whole body is a live wire. She trades your mouth
for your neck and collarbone on her journey to your breasts.
 
“How can such tiny tits be so damn tasty and full?” She says, licking your
areola.
 
You hold her head in place.
 
“Shut up.” You say.
 
She glares up at you, her mouth makes a pop as it separates from your nipple,
“Make me.”
 
Your mouth is hanging open. She means exactly what she says, licking her lips
for emphasis.
 
“Lie on the bed.” You say.
 
Or try to, your mouth is so dry and you could probably drink at least a litre
of water.
 
She holds your waist in place as she stands, leaving you scrambling to wrap
your legs around her and clutch at her shoulders.
 
She’s deceptively strong and carries you like you’re nothing. Your toes make
contact with her duvet. You shift again so she can lie down properly.
 
You’re straddling a nude Victoria Chase. The same girl you covered in paint.
 
To be fair, you’re still wrecking her clothes and coating her face. Or, you
will be in a second.
 
You pinch her nipples too hard and she moans in pleasure instead of hissing in
pain. You crawl up her body. In a weird wish fulfillment, you stop to hump her
abs, having wanted to do so since you saw her changing in PE.
 
She looks a little more sober as she smirks up at you, hands on your ass,
lifting her knees to help you get friction.
 
For the first time, you gasp her name in pleasure. Her attitude changes, you
can feel smugness radiating off her in waves. Her eyes are mostly closed in
that cat-like smile. It’s annoying, you want to stifle it.
 
You plant yourself over her face so that her mouth is against your slit and her
nose is bumping your clit.
 
She sighs and it tickles. You grip the headboard, because her hair is out of
reach. Your hips jitter a little, unused to straddling for so long. Victoria
pulls them down.
 
“Max, just sit.” She says.
 
Or, at least, that’s what you think she says through a mouthful of you. Right,
you shouldn’t worry about smothering her. She gets off on that.
 
Your train of thought gets derailed to nowhere because--holy shit she’s licking
everywhere.
 
You scream. You actually scream. She’s holding you in place because it feels
too good and your hips are trying to flinch away. Scratches down your back and
ass have you yelping and sobbing again.
 
Your holding the headboard, bruising your knuckles as the force of your riding
slams it against the wall. You’re annoying yourself with all the noise you’re
making. Victoria’s name keeps pouring from your lips.
 
It’s too much and you’re coming all over her face, clamping down hard on the
tongue inside of you. Your thighs are clenched around her head and that noise
is you screaming.
 
In another show of her strength, she shoves up, knocking you onto your back.
Her face is red, crazed eyes and wet mouth. She’s kissing your breath away,
then licking your jaw and cheek. You expect it to feel weird and the gross kind
of sexy, but it’s just pleasant.
 
You bite her top lip and then her bottom one and leave red nail crescents on
her shoulders. You want to shove her away and bring her closer at the same
time. You’re bumping your mounds together with your ankles locked around her
hips.
 
You’re cooling down and too thirsty to kiss. Victoria’s hovering over you with
sweat-wet hair and this funny, broken expression. There’s a vulnerability in
her eyes that scares you both.
 
This. Doing this, could make or break everything for both of you.
 
You just lie there, panting and unsure of what to do in the way of aftercare.
Victoria grabs a water bottle from beside her bed and drinks from it, before
wordlessly handing it off to you.
 
You sit up to drink and wince, feeling all of the bruises and scratches forming
on your thighs and backside.
 
“Do you want to talk?” You say.
 
She snorts, “Talking is the last thing I want.”
 
Her feet are on the floor and she’s scratching her head, back pointed toward
you. You touch her shoulder, right on a scratch you left there.
 
“Then what do you want? I don’t know… I’m not sure what this was for you, but
if it’s just an experience I don’t want it to be a bad one.”
 
“Ugh, I’m not some fragile virgin like Kate, okay?”
 
She shrugs your hand off.
 
“Do you think I’d do half of what I just did to you if you were?”
 
Don’t answer that. You would be lying if you said you didn’t see Kate like that
at least once. You never watched the video. Your imagination has always been
enough.
 
That’s not what Victoria needs to hear. She needs to hear that you were here
with her one hundred percent. She was who you were thinking of, who you were
tasting.
 
“I don’t know what the hell is going on with you at all, anymore, Max.” She
says.
 
Her hands are shaking, you offer her some water. She keeps your hand on the
bottle as she drinks, mimicking what she did to you earlier. The sight makes
you rub your thighs together.
 
You mould yourself against her back. She doesn’t shy away this time, but leans
into you with a groan.
 
“What I want is to fuck you where and whenever I want and have you be my eager
little slut.”
 
“So long as you mean that in an affectionate and respectful way, and not in a
shameful way.”
 
She makes an exasperated noise, but nods.
 
“And I want to kiss you where and whenever I want.”
 
In a daring move, you press a kiss to her shoulder.
 
“Because there’s no use saying this never happened.” She says.
 
“We were kinda loud.” You say.
 
She nods. You pull away.
 
“Okay.” You say.
 
You’re redressing and you can feel her eyes on the marks she left.
 
“Okay? What about Price? She’s been dressing you up in Rachel’s second hand
clothing and karting you around like a replaced goldfish.”
 
“Fuck you, Victoria.”
 
Right, you haven’t seen this Chloe since the fight you had on Wednesday. You
turn on her and see the panic on her face. God, she really is one of the most
abrasive people you’ve ever met.
 
“I didn’t mean--”
 
“Neither of you are lining up to be my girlfriend, so you can deal with
whatever or whomever I do in my spare time. Want exclusive access? Then quit
being such a chickenshit.”
 
“I’m sorry.” She’s grabbing your arm.
 
You’re fully clothed and she’s completely nude. You with your hand on the door
and your anger, her with pleading eyes, covering what she can.
 
“I’ll see you later.” You say.
 
She’s forcing her eyes shut, face scrunched up like a child holding in tears.
She deserves this, she’s awful, has no idea the consequences of her actions,
betrays and manipulates in the name of attention.
 
You kiss her softly, because despite all of that, you still want her so badly.
You hope her marks last long enough to let everyone know your claim.
 
“I want you.” She says.
 
It’s so quiet you almost miss it.
 
“Prove it.”
 
You leave her standing there, careful to open and close the door quick enough
to avoid anyone outside seeing her nude.
 
She probably wouldn’t mind anyway.
 
Loud, canned explosions are coming from the lounge. A trip down the hall shows
that the whole floor is watching Road Warrior. Are they tuning out the noise
you two were making?
 
The thought is enough to mortify you back to your room. You check your phone
and find Warren’s texted you twenty times, three texts from Chloe, and a
picture message from Victoria. You open that first.
 
Your eyebrows shoot up at the shot of her hand between her legs and the
caption, “Thinking about you ;)”
 
You read the half assed apology from Chloe and get three ‘Hellooooooo Max?’s
into Warren’s messages before dropping your phone onto the bedspread.
 
Lord, your life is fucked up.
 
 
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!