"Fuck," Cait breathes out as Vi's fingers slip effortleesly inside her, alerting her to the sheer extent of her wetness. She's so slick around her that for half a second she thinks to be self-conscious, but god if that doesn't seem trivial in the face of Vi touching her.

She rolls her hips in tune with the rhythm of her fingers, building it up, adding to the friction. Her breath is growing quicker and shallower, marked by the hastening heave of her chest beneath Vi's mouth, and she's finding it harder and harder to stay still against the mattress with all the pressure building up in her body.

"Little lower," Cait murmurs as Vi rubs against her clit, followed by a sharp whine when she obliges. "--There," she demands, one hand shooting down to wrap around Vi's wrist, anchoring it needily in place. "That's good."