'cause i want more
( Sam has a problem. Pretty much ninety-five percent of her problems start and end with Cat, but this one is way more exhausting than the others. | Or, Sam has a thing for Cat in knee-highs, unsurprisingly. )
"What color should I paint my nails?" Cat asks conversationally, browsing through the scattered bottles of nail polish on her nightstand. Her body is twisted slightly, away from her girlfriend, who can finally stare at Cat's legs without feeling like a major pervert.
See, Sam has a problem. Pretty much ninety-five percent of her problems start and end with Cat, but this one is way more exhausting than the others.
It's Cat's wardrobe - this outfit, specifically. There are a lot of Cat's clothes that Sam does a pretty decent job at handling: when Cat wears a short skirt, for instance, it's frustrating, but not unbearable. When Cat wears knee-highs, which happen to be her thing nowadays, Sam is frustrated, but she deals with it on her own. Several times, just to be thorough.
But when Cat combines both of those things, her sexual frustration just reaches its height, and Sam's left with her entire body tingling, her face flushed, and Cat is just oblivious.
Which brings Sam back to ogling her Cat's tanned legs, that are mostly covered in this pink, frilly knee-highs with little red hearts on them, while Cat debates two nail polishes that look exactly the same, albeit one may be a tad darker. She turns around, deciding on the darker red of the two, and her toes press a little bit harder into Sam's thigh as she gets situated on her bed.
It's not necessarily made for two, but they make it work.
"What do you think?" Cat inquires, holding out the bottle to Sam.
Sam nods, rubbing the pad of her thumb along the material of her socks. "It'll look good on you, for sure," she says distractedly, her eyes trained on Cat's legs.
"Can I do yours when I'm done?" Cat asks, her eyes hopeful.
Sam smiles despite herself. She can't help it, okay? "Sure."
It's quiet for a moment, Cat arranging her cotton balls and nail polish remover on a part of her nightstand, while Sam tries to distract herself from blatantly staring at Cat's legs. It's not that they haven't, you know, done the dirty or whatever. But with Cat, it was so much more than that - it always has been, and Sam doesn't quite know what Cat's completely comfortable just yet.
Still, that doesn't stop Sam from thinking about pinning Cat down onto the bed and burying her face between her thighs with those stupid knee-socks on, especially when her skirt rides up just enough for Sam to see- oh, God.
"Is that skirt even dress code?" Sam blurts out before she can stop herself, tugging at the hem of it a little.
Cat smirks. "They don't really dress code you at my school," she says, her voice somewhat coy, before her eyebrows furrow. "Why? You don't like it?" She looks genuinely disappointed, her lips pouted, and God, how she manages to be super hot and adorable at once beats the hell out of Sam.
She scoots closer. "No, of course I do," Sam insists, looking down, abashed. "Maybe a bit too much," she admits, still playing with the hem.
Cat squeaks a little, like she does when she realizes something. "Oh," her voice is soft, knowing, and when Sam looks back up, her eyes a slightly darker, her face closer. "Really?"
Their noses brush, and Sam feels a current run through her body, buzzing in her veins. "Yeah," she whispers, just before closing the gap between them.
Cat gasps in surprise, her mouth opening under Sam's, and she falls back against the headboard, hitting her head with a thunk.
Sam pulls back, their lips disconnecting with a pop sound. "Are you-?"
"Yes," Cat nods hurriedly, bringing her face back to hers, "don't stop." She seals the space between their lips, pressing herself against Sam and spreading her legs to allow her to fall into them. Sam groans into Cat's mouth, sucking on her bottom lip, worrying the skin, and Cat whimpers keenly, pressing her hips up into Sam's.
"Yeah." Sam replies, answering her unfinished question by trailing her lips down to her neck, teasing the skin just beneath her ear, earning a whine in response. Sam pulls away, her lips tingling, and "do you mind if I -?" she plays with the hem of Cat's shirt, decorated with these little white cats on them, and Cat shakes her head.
"No, of course not," she says certainly, making eye contact with Sam for confirmation. Sam doesn't know why, but she always has to ask Cat before she does anything, even though Cat likes almost one-hundred percent of the things she does and is always in step with her, if not a little forward.
Sam pulls her blouse over her head, allowing her lips to explore her exposed skin. Cat's noises spur her on, and she undoes her bra without asking, discarding it onto the floor with her shirt. Cat's skin is flushed, all over her chest, and she keens when Sam presses her lips against her breast, bucking pathetically against her pelvis. She gasps when Sam closes her lips around her nipple, sucking, which earns her a high-pitched squeal from Cat, her hands tangling in Sam's hair, tugging, and it turns Sam on way more that she'd like to admit.
"You should - take your shirt off," Cat breathes out, tugging on the sleeve of Sam's shirt.
Sam pulls back, shaking her head. "Not yet," is all she says, pressing her lips back to Cat's, her hands on either side of her waist, and God, if Cat just angles her hips a little bit more -
"Sam, please," Cat whines, pressing Sam's hand further down to where she wants it to be. Sam brushes her fingers against the skin of Cat's inner thigh, pressing slightly, before pulling away, much to Cat's dismay. "Sam!"
"Hold on," Sam says, amused by Cat's eagerness. She slides down, past Cat's flat stomach, until her face is level with her skirt. "Keep the skirt on, okay? And the socks?"
Cat nods furiously, gnawing on her bottom lip, and Sam parts her legs just a little bit more, teasing the soft skin of her inner thigh with her teeth. Cat whimpers, gripping her sheets with vice.
"Don't tease," she begs, bucking her hips up against Sam's face. "Please."
"Alright," Sam concedes with mock defeat. "If you insist." But God, doesn't she insist.
Cat laughs breathlessly, hitting Sam's shoulder. "Sam," she croaks out, warning, but Sam doesn't respond, instead gripping Cat's ass and pulling her closer to her face, pressing his tongue in between her folds and, "oh." Cat moans, her breath coming out in ragged pants.
Sam feels the ache between her legs ratchet up, but focuses on Cat, circling tongue around her sensitive bundle of nerves, pushing Cat's legs further apart and presses her tongue inside of her, over and over. Cat stops speaking, her body on overdrive, and Sam presses a finger against her clit just the way she likes, causing her to hips to buck once again.
"Don't - don't stop," she chokes out, gasping when Sam fingers her, all but burying her face in between her legs to taste more of her, and it's not enough, never enough. Sam sucks on her, tonguing her, adding another finger into her, and Cat moans loudly, bracketing Sam's face in between her legs. "More. I - I'm -"
But Sam knows, increasing the pace of her fingers and tonguing her folds, fucking her relentlessly, her own body stimulated with want. Cat cries out, her hips bucking into Sam's fingers wantonly, and Sam knows she's close, so fucking close, she can't stand it.
"Sam, I'm - I'm gonna -" she breaks off, hands pulling at Sam's curls as she rides out her orgasm against Sam's tongue, thighs clenching around her face, and Sam licks her clean until they fall apart in exhaustion.
Sam smirks, brushing Cat's skirt down before sliding back up to her face, kissing her. Cat moans, her chest heaving, and sucks greedily at the taste of her on Sam's tongue.
"Mm," Sam pulls back, her eyes gleaming. "You like that?"
Cat grins. "Totally. Probably just as much as you like my socks, huh?" she says knowingly, sliding her hand into Sam's shorts.
Sam groans, her head falling against Cat's shoulder. "Oh, yeah. Definitely."