Vi’s never had someone say anything about her was “pretty.” It’s not something she’s ever sought to be. But the word from Caitlyn’s mouth elicits a soft gasp, followed by a bigger gasp as Cait’s mouth takes her in.

“That mouth of yours,” she breath-laughs out. Her hands reach up into Cait’s hair, fingers massaging against scalp in slow, steady circles. “You’re really good with it.” She looks down, her wry smile betrayed by the redness in her cheeks. “But weren’t you going to teach me something?”