Your hands are shaking when you take Lightning by the thighs and hoist her onto the desk behind her.
She grips the edge and breathes in deeply, and you don't want to leave her for nothing, but you also know that she told you to lock up, and you've got no plans to ignore her when she looks like she does, smoky eyes promising to pay you back in kind every time you meet them. Her legs twist at the ankles, her toes curling and uncurling, but her voice is surprisingly steady, "Go on," she tells you.
And so you do, but not before you lean in and snatch a quick kiss from her. Then you push yourself up onto weak legs and head for the door as quick as you can, not even really breathing until you've fished the key from your pants and slid the lock into place, fumbling too much for how excited you are to get back to her.
And when you turn, you don't see her head of pink hair over the tops of the shitty little cubicles you spend all day in, and that puts a beat in your heart for sure. You round corners like you've got something on your tail, but when you get back, she's still there. She's bent, pulling at the straps of her heels and slipping out of them with the grace of someone whose legs aren't jumping and weak.
She looks up at you, kicking the heels under your desk, and gives that perfect little smile again. "Fang," she sighs, so breathy. She curls a finger at you, and you remember how tight your pants are against you and how much you need her now, and you lurch toward her.
You're on her quick, pressing your hands to the desk behind her and shivering at the way she meets your mouth with open lips and just enough teeth to get your attention. Her fingers scratch over the back of your neck, down your back, against your hips, and you're breathless enough from all of it to forget how to kiss her senseless.
When her hands get to the buttons of your blouse, you can barely think beyond the heat and ache between your legs, and you grab a handful of her dress and pull back enough to see her smile again, perfectly pleased with the way you're shuddering at the graze of her fingers over your bra.
"Relax," she tells you, like she wasn't just as bad when you had her in your lap with your fingers between her legs.
But damn, isn't that just the most impossible thing with the tension and excitement making your fingers shake and knees weak. You just give a little huff and grip her dress tighter, leaning into her more for all that it's getting hard to stand.
But she doesn't have a care for your feelings, nor the way you were so accommodating to her when she was the one quaking and aching for your touch. She just dips her head, teeth grazing your ear, and presses her cherry red lips to your neck, her hands pressing you through the fabric of your bra.
Your arms go weak like the rest of you, and you have to take hold of Lightning just to keep yourself up. "Light," you moan, but she just hums against your throat. Your knees begin to dip, and you squeeze your eyes closed because the things she's doing and the thought of the things she's gonna do has you dizzy with want.
"Light," you hiss again, and this time her hands drop to your pants, going straight for the fly. She lifts her head from your neck, if only to drop down before you, taking your pants with her and making you ache for her enough to need the edge of the desk to keep yourself standing. The worst is that she stays there, knelt before you with her hands skimming the sides of your thighs and her eyes intent upon you, but she still, still hasn't made to touch you.
She must see the tremble in your legs or the wetness between your thighs because when she speaks all you hear is mercy in her tone. "Why don't you sit down, Fang."
Lightning rises, her nails biting along your hips and making you shudder out another moan, and when she's face to face with you again, she turns you and pushes up onto the edge of your desk, fingers skimming from the outside of your thighs to the tops of them. There's relief in the way your legs aren't fighting to keep you up any longer and even more in the way she spreads your legs and begins to kiss down your stomach, muscles jumping at every touch of those teasing lips.
She's barely got to touch you now, and she knows it. You're jumping so badly from just this that when she presses her fingers and mouth to where you really need her, you're going to come undone quicker than hell.
And now that she knows you're there, she's got no reservations about pushing you back so your shoulders dig into the wall behind you and then finding your clit with her tongue. It sends a jolt right up your back, makes you yelp and arch your back and dig your fingers into her hair, and you can almost hear her smile over the sound of your pulse in your ears.
You snatch at her hair, head tipping back to the wall and mouth falling open in a breathless gasp, and pull her into you, pull her hard against you so your legs are rising, toes curled and shins crossed over her back because she's working her tongue and it's just what you need, just what you've needed since you saw her saunter into your office in her heels and her dress.
You arch your back and squeeze your eyes shut and try not to sound so damn desperate when you moan her name and scrape your nails along her scalp, but for all your effort you're still holding onto her like life itself and she's still fucking you on your desk and it's all a little too much at once.
She crooks one finger inside you, and you see stars, too bright and too soon, and all your frustrations crest in a wave of moans and jittery pleasure that shoots right up your spine and reverberates back down to your toes.
And all the while you're taking quick, shuddering breaths and trying to stop the shivers running along your arms, your legs, your back, but Lightning is more content to rise and kiss at your neck, slowly and tenderly.
That sucks all the breath right out of you again, and you have to stretch your head up, swallowing and blinking at the ceiling.
"Light," you stutter, and she just hums against your throat. You scratch your nails over her shoulder when she scrapes her teeth over your neck, and you have to bite your lip to keep from shuddering out her name again.
She takes the hint and pulls away, just enough to let you get your thoughts back, and when you've got them all again, you let out a breath and tell her, "And happy fucking anniversary to you too, Sunshine."
Your head is fuzzy. You don't mind. She just laughs at you anyway and presses a kiss to your lips, warm and unhurried and far too loving for all the terrible things she does to you.
You guess you don't really mind that either.