“You’re so good, you’re— Ffuuuck,” is the word that begins Vi’s long trail of loud moans and other profanities, grateful once more for the empty house. It’s a rising peak, a tense, tight coiling that reaches its breaking point.

All of Vi stops, head thrown back, and she goes quiet and still, muscles flexing, as she reaches over the peak and then crashes down the other side with a repeat cacophony or pleasure sounds. She feels Cait inside her as she clenches all around her.

“Fuck,” she breathes out, calming. “You’re…” her head feels floaty, muscles tired. “Amazing.”