Disclaimer: I do not, nor have I ever, owned Victorious, except for that brief time in 1974, when I time traveled with Dan Schneider to save disco, and got him out of a tight spot. He repaid me with the rights to the show, but forgot to say it was only for the period of time that we were in the 1970's. That jerk.
Cat's the sweetest thing ever. Literally. She's the sweetest thing I've ever seen. It's ridiculous. It's infuriating. She's so nice, so innocent, and I know, I know she isn't innocent. I know because I tasted her on Danny's lips when I kissed him. She was sweet then, too. That's another thing... I've always thought that I was pretty nice, you know, a good person, not a jerk. Not like Jade, not like Trina. But I kissed Cat's boyfriend. There's no way around that. That's not... that's not nice, let's face it. It's not something I ever thought I'd do. And I yell at her, I snap at her so much, more than anyone else, and I don't understand why. I'm a nice person, I am, but something about Cat is just so saccharine, so sweet, and adorable, and good, it just... it just makes me crazy. It's like if you pet a cat the wrong way, run your hand up it's spine and ruffle the fur. Eventually, it twists around and bites you, grabs your hand and kicks and claws. And it's Cat's hand I keep doing that to. But to say she rubs me the wrong way isn't right either, because I like Cat, I really do. I like her a lot, she's one of my best friends, and I always feel bad when I do yell at her, when I do push her away, or say something wrong. It's not so bad when we're in a group, when there are others to temper Cat's overwhelming sweetness, but when I'm alone with her, it's hard to keep the edge out of my voice, to keep my hackles from rising and a hiss coming out. It's not anger, it's not annoyance, it's... it's an urge to just... to just... I don't know. It wants something, it's not directionless venom, but I don't know what it is I want from her. I want to... damn. Sometimes I get so close to knowing, can feel it teeter on the edge of my mind, but I'm too weak to push it out into the light. It's an urge to do something, and it's fuelled by everything about her. It's frustrating, because I do love her, and I hate the person it makes me.
We're studying in my room, Cat sprawled across my bed, kicking her legs back and forth while she skims a textbook, jotting little notes on a notepad. I know she's not really studying; I caught a glimpse of her 'notes'. They're just pictures of ponies and kittens and stars. We're supposed to be studying algebra. I'm hunched over my desk, numbers and letters and signs running together and just becoming a blur, eyes starting to ache. It doesn't make any more sense to me than when I started studying, and Cat's been humming a song for the last ten minutes that's grating it's way into my brain. It sounds so familiar, but I can't put my finger on it. I let my pen clatter to the wooden surface, bringing my hands to my temples with a sigh. "Cat, what are you humming?"
I glance over at her, and she's twisted back to look at me, eyes wide. "I was humming?"
I let out a long breath. "Yeah, you were humming." My voice comes out sharper than I mean it to, but Cat just giggles, fingers curling over her mouth, feet kicking back and forth.
"Oh. Sorry, Tor!"
That frustration rises in me again, a sharp pang that make me grit my teeth. It just makes me want to- she just looks so- so innocent. So childishly adorable. It makes me want to... I don't know, tell her Santa isn't real or something. But Jade's already gleefully told me about the time she did that. I just want to see Cat with that innocence stripped from her eyes. I just want to see her, lips parted and panting, hands clenched into claws, voice moaning my name, that sweetness stolen...
My hands jump from where they're clenched on my knees, nails digging into the tan flesh. I tear my eyes away from Cat, gnawing at my lip. I don't- that doesn't sound right. I don't- I can't want to see Cat like that. I turn back to my desk, heels of my hands scrubbing at my eyes. I'm just tired and cranky from studying. My mind's gone loopy. But even as I think that, I realise I've turned back, twisting around, eyes tracing along the dip of Cat's back, a strip of tan skin showing where her top ends, that curve that starts below that-
I shake my head. Cat's hot, yeah. I know that. I have eyes, don't I? And it's not that I've crossed girls off my list or anything... I mean, I'm open-minded. But this... this urge isn't something I've felt before. I've thought a guy's cute, that he's hot, and sure, he'd be nice to kiss. But it hasn't exactly been a 'throw-down-take-me-now' sort of feeling. And that's definitely what this urge is. It's come out into the light, and it's come boldly. It's like the algebra in front of me, all confusing and meaningless, until suddenly everything clicks, and you get it. It all makes sense, and the solution seems so easy. Now that I've named that urge, or rather, it's broken it's way into my conscious mind, it's not a throbbing irritation in my head I feel. No, it's a throb in an altogether different place.
I swallow hard, pressing my legs together and turning back to my desk, hand picking up my pen only to drop it again. I can't stop picturing it now, the scrawled figures on my page blurring. Cat's chocolate eyes all hooded, shadowed by her long, dark lashes, a lock of hair spilled over her throat like a strip of red velvet. How did it never occur to me? She brings qualities out in me that no one else does, frustrates me beyond belief, makes my hands twitch and clench, and makes me so still, so overly casual when she touches me, leans on me. I remember the times she's leaned over my shoulder, lips whispering right into my ear, arm slung around me, body pressed against mine. I shiver, the thought like fingers crawling up my spine.
I jump again, Cat's voice breezing into my hair. It was her fingers, tiptoeing up my spine, pressed between my shoulderblades, hand warming the thin material of my shirt. Cat's surprisingly quiet, at least in her movements, and I wonder for a moment if I've become psychic, or if Cat is, and she's read my thoughts. Either way, she's leaning over me, and it's rather pleasant. My breath feels like it's rattling it's way out of my chest, knocking around my ribs, and I know that if I turn to look at her, that urge will force it's way in again. That urge to just... just...
"Why don't we take a break from studying?" My voice is overly loud, hands pushing the textbook away. I stand, Cat shifting away, hand slipping away from my back.
"Actually Tori, I was wondering if you could help me?" Cat gives me a wide-eyed look, and I swear her lip quivers for just a moment. If she was five, it'd be adorable. It is now, but it's the kind of adorable that makes me want to touch. To feel those lips quiver against mine.
I shake my head. Okay Vega, concentrate. "Uh, sure. Which problem was it?"
Cat's eyes flick down, mouth twisting. "All of them."
I take a deep breath, plastering a smile on my face. "Okay, well, we'll start with the first one. That one's easy."
A grin breaks out on Cat's face, her coffee-coloured eyes lighting up. She slides back onto the bed, rolling on her stomach, turning to a blank page on her notepad. I watch mutely, hands tight on my knees, knuckles white. Oh, why did this urge have to reveal itself while I'm alone with her? And even worse, alone in the house. I should just ask her to leave, to say that I'll see her tomorrow, but I've never been good with constraint around people I like. Just look at Beck and Danny. Difference is, Cat's not taken. There's nothing stopping me from just...
I don't let myself finish the thought. Just help her study. Cat pats the spot next to her, turning onto her side, and I ease myself down, trying not to shuffle too close to her. Regardless, her shoulder still rubs up against mine, warm and slight. I swallow hard, plucking Cat's pen from her fingers. "Okay, so you see x here?"
Cat nods, red hair bobbing. "Mhm."
She leans against me a little closer, hip pressing to mine. Her hair smells like coconut. "Okay, so x plus 5y equals this." I point with the pen, Cat's hand following mine to point, knuckles brushing the back of my hand. I'm not sure if it's because I'm lying on my stomach, but it's getting awfully hard to take a full breath. I feel like I'm just sipping at the air, like my mouth is just a tiny straw, trying to drink from a cup filled with ice. "So all you have to do is... is..." My brow furrows as I struggle to remember the thing I understood just a moment ago. I had it down when I was at my desk. This is an easy one... but then, I didn't have Cat pressed against me then. She's making it hard to think, or, rather, she's making it hard to think of anything else.
"What is it Tori? What do I have to do?" Cat's face is so close to mine, her voice almost hushed, like we're sharing a secret, and goosebumps tickle their way along my spine. I find myself licking my lips subconsciously, eyes flicking over to her, and before I can stop myself, my head turns to her. It brings me inches away from her lips, and I can't help but notice we're lined up almost perfectly.
"You just have to... uh..." That naivety in her eyes, I just want to strip it away. To taste a little of that sweetness. Just... just once. Just to know. Just to see her face, to see how it changes. To see what it's like when Cat looks less than innocent. It doesn't take much to close the gap, to press my lips to hers, eyes shutting automatically, breath caught in my throat. I can taste the remnants of her lipgloss; cherry, feel how soft her lips are, and it makes my hands curl into fists, tucked up against my chest. My neck hurts at this angle, and our lips are together awkwardly, but I can't stop, I can't pull away. It feels nice. So nice. Not nice, good. Great, even.
It's Cat who pulls away, gently, our lips parting with a soft sound. Her eyebrows are dug down in confusion, head tilted at a slight angle. "Tori? What are you doing?" She doesn't seem angry, but then, I guess I didn't expect her to be. Just this soft confusion, like she's not sure what's going on. Just this innocence.
My breath comes out in jagged little spurts. "Uh... study break?" I try a smile, lips feeling flushed from her. It's a poor excuse, but I'm not the best at thinking in tight spots. I swallow hard, eyes flicking along Cat's body. Tight spots. I tear my gaze back to Cat's face, her expression blank, like she's calculating something in her head. And then, there, there's a flicker, a change in her eyes, the hint of a smile on her lips, and that innocence is still there, still torturing me, but that naivety is gone. That cluelessness has dissipated. Like I said, I know Cat's not innocent. Not deep down, she isn't. I have to see her without it. Because of me. Because I took it. It's fucking with my head, because this isn't me. I'm a good girl, I don't do that. I don't just kiss people! Well... hmm. Actually, I do tend to do that a lot. I just don't usually want to... to clench my teeth and rip some bodices off, like they do in those trashy romance novels my mom reads.
My eyes flick between Cat's eyes and her lips, that hint of a smile growing wider, and my tongue runs out over my lips almost automatically. Cherry. I lean in again, slower this time, Cat closing the last of the gap, head tilted up, and her lips are soft, and damp, warm against mine. She's soft, and yielding, and I shift my body without breaking the kiss, freeing a hand to stroke along her arm. She shivers then, and I feel the goosebumps prickling from the path of my fingers. There's a part of me that's trying to reason; maybe I shouldn't do this, maybe it's not right, maybe I'm just out of my mind from studying, maybe this is just some passing thing that'll die in a week or two. That part gets quickly silenced when I pull back from Cat, my breath exhaling shakily, and notice her lips, flushed from me, the colour that's risen in her cheeks. That little hint of a smile, still teasing me, her eyes still wide. "Is study break over, Tori?" Her gaze flicks to her barely written on notepad, pen on the verge of rolling off the bed.
"I don't think we need to study anymore." There's something I'd rather be studying, and I'm pretty sure Cat's aware of it. I'm not the most subtle person, and my eyes and my tone are making it pretty clear. But Cat's nothing if not good at pretending to be clueless.
"But Tori, what else are we going to do?"
I see why Cat's in Hollywood Arts. She's a brilliant actress. She's almost got me thinking that she has no idea what I'd like to do, even while her hand creeps onto my waist, feather light. It makes a grin steal across my face, makes me want her even more. She's teasing, and I'm going to break through her act. "We could study biology."
Cat's shaped eyebrows shoot up. "But Tori, I don't even take biology!"
Her hand's slipped under the hem of my shirt, tiptoeing over the smooth skin of my waist. "Would you like to?"
She licks her lips, gaze flicking down, and that's all the encouragement I need. If I thought this unnamed urge was strong before, this is only fuelling the fire, sending the flames shooting high. But it feels pretty good to burn, especially when I have Cat to douse myself in. And I've got a scrapbook of mental images to bring to life. I kiss Cat softly, Cat making a quiet noise, hand tightening on my waist, and with that resistant part of me silenced, the majority of me is screaming to push her back, to nip at her neck, to rip off her clothes. But I'm not Trina; I do have a little self-control. I asked Andre once, as he picked at his guitar, making up a little melody, how he did it? How he thought up new music, how he knew what note, what chord came next? He'd given me a lazy smile, and said he could just feel it. Ever since he was a kid, he could just feel what came next. He said the instruments spoke to him, told him how to draw the music out in the right way. And then he spoke about the technical stuff, like writing sheet music, and what chord was which and what finger went where, and lost me completely. I'm not good at playing instruments, that's one thing I can't really do. But I'm pretty sure I can play Cat, can draw the music from her. And this song starts out slow. Warm ups are always a good idea.
I run my tongue along Cat's lip, and she parts them, letting my tongue find hers. It's tentative at first, soft, slow, the sensation rolling inside me. Her hand is gently rubbing the curve of my waist, sliding higher, shirt wrinkling against her wrist. Cat's fingernails scrape my ribs, and I break the kiss, taking a shuddering break. She gives me an innocent smile, like she's not aware of what she's doing, and her hand is moving just slowly enough so that I could almost believe it. Almost. I capture Cat's lips eagerly again. I'm not playing subtle like she is, and my fingers find their way to the hem of her blue tank top, shooting up underneath towards her bra, her stomach warm against my wrist. This isn't the most comfortable position, being on our sides, but I plan to change that soon enough. Cat gasps into my mouth as my hand cups her bra, nipple hardening through the material against my palm. I flick a thumb over it, Cat jerking, her head dipping down, hot breath feathering my neck. I almost chuckle into her ear. She might not be innocent, deep down, but she certainly feels that way. She certainly tastes that way. It's intoxicating. All thoughts of studying, all thoughts of consequences have fled my mind. I'm always worrying about the future, about the next test, about what problem is going to pop up, what person I'm going to have to take care of next. I'm always thinking of everyone but myself. It feels good to get what I want, to listen to my urges. I'm not so helpful a person in my own mind. I'm solving my own problem.
I curl my fingers up underneath the cup of Cat's bra, soft flesh yielding under my hand. Cat makes a soft noise, eyes shut tight, stomach shivering underneath my wrist. I kiss her again, slow, drugging kisses that she breaks everytime my thumb brushes over her hard nipple. I grimace as my elbow twinges, uncomfortable at the awkward angle. Time to change position. I make sure my nails scrape over Cat's smooth stomach as I bring my hand out, Cat's eyes flickering open, gaze hooded.
"Tori?" Her voice is husky, low, her breathing slightly uneven, cheeks flushed. She's definitely looking less innocent than before. But it's not enough. I need her sweating, I need her moaning, I need...
It's not just an urge to strip away her innocence. If it was, there are other ways to do it. No... this is about me. I want to be the one to do it. I want to strip... I want to strip her. Strip her of her innocence, strip her of her clothes, strip her of everything, until it's just her, and me. I want her to want me. I want her to need me. And maybe all this time, I've been waiting for her to make the move, for her to burst through that innocence, that naivety, and be the one to kiss me. Maybe this annoyance has been at myself, at her, for staying so... platonic. Annoyed at her, for being exactly who she appears to be; a childlike, easily-amused girl, who's cheerful more often than not. Annoyed at me, for not having the nerve to realise I wanted more than just friendship, because if she didn't want it, neither did I. And yes, annoyed by that innocence. It might not be the whole, but it does play a part. I do want to see her without it. I want to be the reason why, and I want her to know that it was me who took it. I want to see her have to put it back on around everyone else, like some ill-fitting mask, while I remember what it looked like to see her made dirty, made unclean. By my hand. I want her to look at me, and have that mask slip, and know what's underneath is only for me. I want us to have a dirty little secret, sitting between us. One so big, we can't just pretend it's not there.
I point to the head of my rumpled bed. "Lay down."
Cat acquiesces, top hitching up as she moves around, rolling onto her back, ruby red hair splayed across my white pillow. The hint of a smile that lingered on her face is gone, hands resting uneasily on her stomach, eyes intent on me.
There are a whole lot of little secrets between us. Stuff that we never talked about, that got shoved under the rug and forgotten. She never brought them up, and neither did I, and maybe I convinced myself they meant nothing, that they never happened.
She kissed me once, not long after we met. It was maybe the third or fourth time she'd slept over. I'd come back from brushing my teeth, Cat curled up in my bed, hand pillowing her head, eyes sleepy. I'd slipped in beside her, linen of my sheets cold against my bare legs. I'd rolled over to say goodnight to her, mouth feeling clean and minty. A smile twitched on her lips, and she repeated my goodnight softly, before leaning in, her lips meeting mine softly. I'd frozen, and Cat had broken the kiss, smiling at me innocently before rolling over and snuggling into the pillow, shoulderblades carving a sharp pattern in her back.
We never spoke a word about it, and I dismissed it. But when she'd hugged me from behind one day, arms circled around my neck, my hand had run along her forearm, fingers entwining with hers, and I'd pressed my lips to the back of her hand, just softly. Another thing we never spoke of. A million other things, dismissed, pushed away, forgotten. Disguised as annoyance, as a nameless urge. Maybe that's why Cat didn't seem all that surprised when I kissed her. Maybe that's why I gave into this urge so easily, so quickly. We're building on the bones of all the forgotten memories. We're growing strings of muscles, cords of veins. We're fleshing out the skeleton in our closet.
I don't leave Cat waiting for long, straddling her thigh, a hand on her cheek, my lips meeting hers. Her fingers wrap around my waist, tongue responding to mine, and by now her lips are hot and damp, mouths making small sounds as they move, melting our breaths. I nudge her legs apart further with a knee, bringing it to press against her, to rub over her teasingly through the rough material of her bone-coloured shorts. She swallows a moan, hips bucking against me, and I move my hand from her cheek, trailing it down her neck to her chest, to cup her through the silky fabric of her tank top. I kiss along her jawline, letting out a shuddering breath onto the damp flesh as I feel Cat's fingers brush just above the waistband on my jeans. Her fingers curl around the hem of my shirt, tugging it up a little, and I still my knee, leaning back. Cat follows, and I lift my arms, letting Cat strip the shirt off of me. She smiles then, eyes crawling over the newly revealed skin, like they're plotting a plan, and that innocence is almost gone, faded to the edge of her eyes, the sweetness in her smile. But this isn't Cat's game, it's mine, and I match her move, stripping her tank top off. It's not the first time I've seen Cat's body, and it's not the first time she's seen mine. But it's different now; they're not just bodies, they're playgrounds. They're new grounds to explore, and Cat's is perfectly landscaped. I don't admire from a distance for long though, pushing her back down, my hands scraping over her flat stomach. My lips find her pulse point, nipping lightly, and I can feel her heart racing, throbbing against me, but it's not nearly as fast as I'd like. My fingers trace around her belly button, continuing down, circling around the button to her shorts before popping it open. I can feel her hips trembling as I drag the zipper down, hands hot on the small of my back. I trace an index finger over the front of Cat's panties, Cat shivering. A smirk spreads across my face, lips still kissing and nipping at the tan skin of her neck. My fingers get to work, rubbing over the quickly dampening material, a soft moan escaping Cat, her breath growing heavier. Too big. This is too big to forget, to push aside. Cat's the sweetest thing ever, she can't just shove this away. She can't pretend this never happened. I can't either. All our inaction, all our platitudes, all our waiting, waiting, waiting. Waiting for her, waiting for me; it's all done. This is too big, and we can't pretend it's not happening. That it hasn't happened.
I let out an uneven breath against Cat's neck, dragging my hand out of her underwear. Cat's fingernails tighten on my back for a moment, and when I look at her, her eyes are dark and unreadable, and I wonder if she even sees me. If she's looking at me, and seeing the same thing I think I am. I wonder if she knows why I'm doing this, if she knows what this is, if she knows that everytime I invited her to be alone with me, including this time, I was always secretly hoping. That I was always waiting for her. That this annoyance, this building urge, finally broke me, and I wonder if there would have been a point where she would have broken, or maybe she never had anything building at all.
My thumbs hook in her shorts as my lips kiss their way over her smooth stomach, moving down. It's quick work to drag her shorts down, and I toss them off the bed, shoulder brushing Cat's thigh. "T-Tori-" Cat's voice shakes it's way down to me, threaded with her heartbeat, and whatever unspoken question is in there, I'm too busy to answer, fingers splayed on her inner thighs, pushing them apart.
Cat shivers as my breath feathers against her, stiffening as my tongue follows suit, swiping across her, Cat's taste filling my mouth. And of course, she's sweet. What else would she be? The tip of my tongue finds the hard bud of her clit, Cat letting out a soft moan. I draw patterns with my tongue, Cat twitching with every hard swipe, but it's not until I feel her hand tangle in my hair that I proceed to sucking. Cat's moans grow louder then, her hips trembling from where I keep them in place with my hands. I shut my eyes tight for a moment, mouth still pressuring against her. This is big. Too big. Too much. This is Big. A pulse of adrenaline rushes through me. There's no coming back from this. My mouth is on Cat's clit. There's no hiding this, and this is what I wanted, yes. But it's terrifying too. And it's like I was caught in a haze, a web of frustration, and longing, and pent up emotion, and now that it's burst free, the last droplets finally dripping from the rupture in me, I'm starting to realise how Big this is.
Cat's hips buck into me, Cat's breath growing short and breathy, her voice in every quick pant, hand tightening almost painfully in my hair. I suck harder, tongue swiping across her, her taste thick in my mouth, hands sliding to her thighs only to feel them stiffen, Cat's back raising off the bed, my name littered in her strangled cry. I match her shudder, pulling away from her finally, and wiping her off my lips. And she looks just like I wanted her to. Face flushed, a lock of hair spilled over her cheek like some careless slash. Lips parted and panting, her voice broken, shattered, cutting the air on every exhale. And her eyes. Not so wide anymore, dark and hooded, almost drugged. It's a beautiful sight, and another thing I can't come back from. Another thing I can't forget.
Cat's breath slows, a hand pushing that hair away from her face, and she sits up, muscles in her stomach rippling lithely. Her fingers crawl under my chin, tilting my head towards her as she kisses me softly, briefly. And for some reason, I can't seem to speak. What do you say? What are you supposed to do, after something like that? The only plan I had is now accomplished, and I have no idea what to do. I wanted to give us something we had to speak about, and now the irony is, I can't seem to say a thing.
Cat crawls off the bed, slipping back into her panties and shorts, the sound of the zipper cutting through the silence as she zips them back up. I almost wince as her phone jangles, some sugar-coated ringtone sounding. She glances at me quickly before crossing to her bag, rummaging through it. She finds her phone finally, answering it with a soft 'hello', voice still husky. I lean from where I'm sitting on the edge of the bed, scooping up my shirt and tugging it back on. Somehow, it smells like her. Or maybe it's me that smells like her. I'm immersed myself in her, imprinted her in my skin. I wonder if she smells like me.
I glance over, Cat standing, feet together, black bag swinging from a shoulder, hands twisting the leather strap.
"Tori, I've gotta go. My mom wants me home."
I nod mutely. It's like now that that urge is gone, all my fire has been taken with it. Maybe we're back to square one, where I'm too scared to do anything. I guess I hoped she wouldn't be as scared as me.
Cat's gaze flicks down, before returning to me, tongue running out over her lips. Her voice is almost hesistant. "We didn't finish studying."
I sigh, running a hand through my hair. "It's okay, Cat." It's not okay, but I don't know what else to say. I always mess things up in relationships, and this one hasn't even started yet. Big. Too Big.
"I just thought maybe we could do it tomorrow?" I look up at Cat, a smile on the edge of her lips. That sweetness, that innocence has crept back into her face, and I can't help but match her smile.
"Maybe you can me what 'x' is." Cat jumps her eyebrows at me, giggling, before leaning down and giving me a soft, sweet kiss. "I'll see you tomorrow, Tor!"
I watch her go, hands open and empty in my lap. And maybe it wasn't such a bad idea after all. Maybe it wasn't too Big. Maybe it was just enough. And I was right; Cat's the sweetest thing ever.
A/N: I don't even know what happened here. Why is it so long? OH GOD HOW DID THIS HAPPEN? Please, someone get help. My serial killer transplant hands are going nuts, and writing far too much. Also, strangling dogs, but they did that before, so that's sort of less important.
Anyway, please review, and convince them to go to a therapy group for devilhands. They won't let me in the pet store anymore. D: