[I'm sort of liking writing again. I hope I can keep doing this.]

ooooo

Her smile does pretty things to her face. Pleasant, symmetrical curl, displays the modest fullness of her lips. Dimples float like suns on the horizons of her mouth's creases, eyes gleam, genuine. And it's inexplicably tragic that she's always so dour, brow furrowed like a shallow grave, eyes chipped like marbles, darkness lurking between the tired creases beneath her eyes like an extraordinary painting folded and crumpled carelessly- mishandled. Like an ignorant someone smeared the color from her and crudely penciled in their own version of Cait, a pale and lifeless travesty of what should be.

"God, I fucking love your pussy." Exertion gasps through the cracks in Allison's casual façade. Rough sex doesn't fit the sleepy, mild quality of a sunny morning, something of an unsaid rule written in lazy cursive loops of Cait's finger on Allison's chest. "So fucking tight."

Grin like praise well received, cheeks a tint darker- she has the angular cheekbones and the thin, quirking brow fit for those sly-but-heartfelt smiles. "Like what I'm doin' to your cock, hmm?" Moves like water over polished chrome, hips free and tumbling every which way, searching with long, forward strokes for that perfect equilibrium. Allison helps her find it, kneading up and in with complementary rhythm, velvety swathe tight around her cock, she can feel residue condensing near her base. A thumb dances up the brawny meat of her thigh to her clit and swipes, Cait shadows Allison's hand between her legs. "Fuck, that's nice."

Eyes fluttery and tongue peeking out between her lips, Cait is so uniquely beautiful. Alabaster and smooth, cut and marred by the elements, flesh yields where Allison squeezes her. She's an altar for bowed heads and clasped palms, breath a warm sanctuary's draft brushing Allison's unworthy skin, moaning her name like an ethereal exclamation from somewhere above the rafters.

Stutter of breath, quiet shout, Cait's fingernail-sharp hold on Allison's chest grates to her collarbone, then careens off the hard cliffs of her shoulders. Goes stiff all over, stiff spine, stiff hips, stiff cunt, then shivers make her pliable and Allison reaches deep inside, deep, deep inside until white-hot thrills of friction explode like a misfire, twitch and a groan, releases.

A moment of quiet, of scrambling for chilled air that cooperates like cold water after a peppermint, of slick flesh snickering, wet lips sticking and unsticking. Fluid seeps and pools, sweat begins to dry. When Allison opens her eyes and stares up through the blurry film of orgasm, Cait is smiling.

"That was nice."

Allison rubs the last remnants of sleep from her face and rests her arm above her head. "You said that, already."

"Yeah, 'cause it was nice then, and it's even nicer now." Cait descends like snowfall onto her elbows, creeping and graceful. "Really fuckin' nice, actually." Kisses Allison softly, grin clinging to Cait's lips like leftover frosting, so pink and sweet.

Her hands travel Cait like the winding wasteland roads, cracked and sundried, but functional and far-reaching, the only place Allison would ever call home. She has gravel-rough scars and a Geiger-quick ditty from all those who've tread on her, but she's still alive and breathing, so resilient she'll outlive everyone. Allison thumbs Cait up and down, page by pale page, because she's also a book, a collection of tales with nothing but bad endings, a message to learn scribbled between the lines like an inelegant version of Aesop. Allison revisits all of her favorite chapters, consumes her as deeply as she's been consumed.

It's their world, now. The boogeymen and the bullies were baptized by fire, because even now, two hundred years after Armageddon, war never changes. It's alright, though. Means no one bothers them. Means they can kiss and laugh and fuck all that they want, no one needs them anymore, no one's left to need them.

Cait stretches, or Allison assumes she is, until she hears the quiet scrape of objects being pulled from the headboard shelf and feels their weight in Cait's hands settling on either side of Allison's head. Can't see what they are, but Cait's excited cheeks hide nothing.

"Watcha got there?"

"Toys." A tinny buzz flickers to life in one ear, is all Allison can hear for the half second that Cait lets it run. "Was sittin' here, all full of cum, thinkin' how good it'd feel to have you fill me all the way up."

She's surprisingly sentimental in her own way. Wants a piece of Allison to remember her by; even if it's something as absurd and short-lived as an orgasm, Cait takes whatever she can get, she's not picky.

Allison props herself up by her elbows. Weight shifts, wet groins bump and slide, cock swells and cunt drips. "How do you want it?"

Lips taste like salty skin, her tongue like salty want. Cait shoves the lube and the vibrator into Allison's fumbling clutches. "I want it deep."

The vibrator somewhat complicates achieving the balls-to-butt depth Cait yearns for without putting her on her hands and knees, what with a baseball-sized object wedged between mons and pelvis, but when Cait lays on her back and holds the vibe to herself, Allison lifts her hips with two hands and-.

Slides in easy, stroke as smooth as a bow sounding over violin strings, Cait whines high and long.

"Oh my God," Cait breathes. The vibe relaxes her muscles, less of a vice, accommodates the slow pull then plunge. Familiar tightness, familiar heat, not as silky soft as her cunt, nor as slick, but Allison revels in the lowercase, knit-brow "o" that washes up on Cait's sandy lips like a glittery glass bottle on a clean, crisp beach. She adjusts hips until angles align where practice says they should, and doles out something firm that thrusts and rolls, "Oh fuck, that's perfect," scarred biceps like taut rope, eyes squeezed like a fist around a silver crucifix, "fuck, that's so fuckin' perfect- don't fuckin', don't fuckin' stop," mouth like the glittery rim of that glass bottle.

Shatters, quivering like the vibrator pressed desperate and hard to her clit. Allison wades through the tide that stymie's her every move, until the tide recedes and she's fucking her again, and Cait's a little broken, that "o" clinging to her lips like a shutter hanging on its last rusted hinge, and she reaches for the sheets above her head and takes a handful of cool fabric to stave off the imminent, but it comes anyway and she shudders and cries as violently as the toy rumbling around her sloppy cunt- Allison spares a hand to press the vibe flush to her clit, Cait bites down on her knuckle, draws blood.

Tremors don't purge completely, but Cait claws at coherence. "Come in me. Fuckin' fill me-," she snakes the vibe under her hips and holds the toy to Allison's balls, "come in me, motherfucker,"

Jitters from her sack to the tip of her cock, to her core where it disperses, warm and soothing, "Fuck," Allison gasps, because fuck, she's close, Cait watches her like a hungry dog waiting to steal whatever morsel Allison lets fall through her white-knuckle fingers. Hitch in her chest, last bit of heat climbs exponentially and she bursts. "Oh, Cait," through shivers.

Cait's cheeks dimple, "That's it, darlin', fill me up," legs greedy and rigid around Allison's waist while she teeters forward and ruts, "Fill me up, just like that, fill me up. You're so good, darlin'." Pulse after pulse, Cait pulling her deeper, Cait pulling her down, Cait's embrace snaking under her arms and stroking her spine with the rhythm of the orgasm. "So good," like hot shower mist in Allison's ear.

She burns just below the skin, bubbling blood and throbbing core, must be what it feels like going ghoul- Cait's just that atomic. Kisses up Cait's neck, open-mouthed offerings to her nuclear goddess with hair that crackles bright red, donations placed below her jaw.

The vibrator screams in the peace that settles, but Allison hardly notices. Arms full and mouth busy, too buzzed to care. Like a Friday night, only it's Tuesday and morning.

She thinks. Loses track of the days as easily as hours. Cait does that to her, traps her in a relativity of time.

"Can you feel me?" Allison asks. Cait looks quizzically over. "I mean, you know. Sloshing around?"

So brilliantly radiant, even as she cackles until her face is so flushed, she glows. "No, not when I'm as fuckin' wet as I am, already. I can feel you leakin' out of my cunt, though. Be a lot of cum before I'd feel you 'sloshin' around'."

"Mm hmm…" The corners of Allison's mouth pull up, marionette to her own thoughts.

Cait kisses them away, puts fiery sin and liquor-sharp tongue in their place. "Mmmm. Fuck me 'til I'm sloshin', then."

ooooo

[Alright, a lot more porn-y than the first chapter, but I think it communicates enough character.]