A/N: This fic contains potentially triggering subject matter including but not limited to: suicidal references, gun violence, sexual trauma, homelessness, drug abuse, depression, homophobia, and cancer. It may contain inaccuracies. No copyright infringement intended. Thanks for reading!
BOOK ONE - PART TWO - CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Sam stood up, chuckling as Cat approached. "Um, nice robe."
"Thanks," Cat replied with a nervous smile.
Without another word, Sam stepped in and captured her lips heatedly. While they kissed, Sam slowly slipped her hand inside the front of Cat's robe. When she groped her breast, she expected her to be naked, but felt some sort of lacy material instead. She pulled back and said, "What do you have on under this?"
Cat looked daringly into her eyes. "Why don't you find out?"
Intrigued, Sam untied the robe and pulled the front open, exposing Cat in her lingerie. Sam's eyeballs nearly popped out of her head. "Holy shit, Cat; what the hell are you wearing?"
Cat giggled, pleased with the response. She slipped the robe the rest of the way off and dropped it to the floor. "Oh, just a little something for you," she teased, striking a few subtle poses. "Do you like it?"
Sam didn't immediately respond—but it was clear that she really, really liked it. She was flushed and breathing heavily, unable to look away. She moved in suddenly, reaching for Cat's chest before stopping and withdrawing her hand. "Um, can I..?"
Cat thought it was sweet how careful she always was about asking for consent after their history together. "Sam, you can do whatever you want. You don't have to go slow. I'll let you know if you go too far, but please, just… make me yours tonight, okay?"
Sam gave out a low growl of excitement and nipped at Cat's neck. "What's the safe word?"
Cat had learned about safe words from Jade and had never expected that she would need one herself. "Um… I don't know. Something we can both remember."
"Lumpatious," Sam jokingly suggested, chuckling. They'd certainly never forget it.
Cat giggled, cringing. The term was not situation-appropriate. "That's too dirty, Sam."
"Well, then, what do you suggest?"
"Hmmm. How 'bout you just stop talking and show me what you can do?"
Sam arched an eyebrow at her. Then she scooped Cat up in her arms and carried her over to her plastic-covered motorcycle. She set her down, leaning her back against the handlebars, then took her usual place on the bike's seat. Standing up, the position allowed her to be face to face with her. Cat's thighs were hugging Sam's waist, and Sam was bracing herself on Cat's shoulders. She didn't have to try hard to balance, like she'd expected—the position was actually quite comfortable. But there was a bit of a dilemma. Sam couldn't reach the gravy pots from where she was.
"Go grab two of those stools," Cat suggested, pointing them out. "We can put one on each side."
Sam dismounted her motorcycle and put the wooden stools in place. Then she picked up the gravy pots and placed them on each of the stools. Now they were right near her arms, and she could reach them perfectly. "You're sure you're okay with this?"
"Yes. You should take your clothes off, though, or they're gonna get messy," Cat pointed out.
Sam didn't move and looked uncomfortable.
Cat immediately wished she hadn't said anything, realizing that maybe she'd left them on on purpose.
"All of them?"
"Not if you don't want to," Cat replied reassuringly. "You're in control here. If you'd rather keep them on, you can keep them on."
Sam looked hesitant. She took a deep breath, then pulled her shirt and her pants off, leaving her in a gray sports bra and a matching pair of boxers. She could see how intensely Cat was looking at her, waiting for more, so she nervously pulled off her bra, exposing her breasts. Her stitches were covered with a large, waterproof bandage. She left her boxers on as she climbed back onto her motorcycle, then leaned down and kissed Cat.
Cat was disappointed she wasn't getting entirely naked, but she had expected it. The bright lights in the garage were much more revealing than a dark bedroom. She tried to keep herself focused as they started kissing again—her goal was to make Sam feel good, while she still could.
Sam's hands moved down to palm both of Cat's breasts, making her give out a little hum of excitement against her mouth. She eventually trailed her way down to her neck and nipped at the spot right below Cat's ear.
Cat moaned, spreading her legs. "When are you gonna put the gravy on me?"
Sam looked slightly amused. "Eager, are we?"
"I want… I want it all over me. Totally cover me in it." Cat didn't, really, but she had always been a pretty good actress.
The words seemed to have their desired effect, because Sam let out a low moan and rocked her hips forward a couple of times. "Oh, yeah?" She was straddling her motorcycle, grinding into the seat. "Tell me how bad you want it."
"So bad, I want it so bad, Sam; I want you to make a huge mess of me. Please," Cat begged shamelessly.
"Okay, well, let's get these off first," Sam decided, tugging at the straps of her lingerie. It had served its purpose for now. But it quickly became clear she had no idea how to take any of it off.
Concealing a smile, Cat helped her by undoing her bra strap, then unhooked her garters. Together, she and Sam worked to peel all the clothing off her body. Finally, after what felt like way too long, she was naked.
Sam didn't hesitate. She reached out both arms, dunked them in the gravy pots, and then pulled them out and splashed the thick mess over Cat's chest and shoulders. Cat's initial response was a sharp intake of breath, which was enough to make Sam pause. "You okay?"
The gravy was chunky and lukewarm, but the smell wasn't unpleasant, and Cat tolerated it well. She told herself she just needed to get used to it. "I'm good." She pulled Sam down and kissed her. Then she pulled back just a little, looked into her eyes and whispered, "C'mon. I want more."
"Really?" Sam was astounded that Cat was going along with this.
"Mm-hmm. Lots more. All over," Cat dared her.
"Oh, fuck," Sam breathed, then collected more gravy and spread it out over Cat's body. She did it several more times until she'd covered her entire front. Then she moved to her arms.
"Mmmm, yes, Sammy…"
Rutting against her motorcycle seat, Sam blurted, "Call me Momma."
Cat looked at her in surprise and slight amusement, but then leaned in close to Sam's ear and sexily murmured, "That feels so good, Momma. More, please?"
Sam let out a breathy, high-pitched sound which Cat had never heard her make before. "Fuck, Cat." She continued scooping gravy out of the pots and depositing it onto her. She made as big a mess as possible, but never went above Cat's neck. Once she was good and covered, Sam leaned down and kissed her again. She shoved one of her hands into her boxers, and Cat could see it moving rhythmically. She clearly didn't mind getting gravy down there, which Cat herself had already started to worry about. Sam latched onto Cat's neck and sucked hard, leaving behind a sizeable hickey, then trailed her way down her body. She licked the gravy from her breasts, getting it all over the lower half of her face.
It was an extremely strange sensation, but not too bad. Cat let out an exaggerated moan to let Sam know she was enjoying herself. "Mmmm, I love it when you lick me, Momma."
"Yeah, you like that? You like how I use my tongue on you?" Sam rasped out, then gave Cat another lick across her chest. She couldn't go any further down than that with how they were situated—Cat would fall off the handlebars—so, she stuck to the areas she could reach, rocking, touching and licking until her mind grew hazy, murmuring, "Fuck, I want you so bad…"