Tilly moved toward her slowly and deliberately, every step heavy with intent. They pressed a palm to her shoulder and guided her onto her back. Savannah went easily, a half laugh catching in her throat.
Tilly hovered over her.
“You shouldn’t be laughing,” they said, voice low.
Savannah grinned up at them. “Or what?”
Tilly’s eyes darkened. The corner of their mouth curved.
“Careful,” they said, more promise than warning.
“I’d like to see you try.”
Savannah’s gaze flicked over their face, something softer threading through the challenge.
“Since when do you do this?”
Tilly didn’t answer right away. Their hand tightened just slightly at her waist, grounding, steady.
“Since you stopped pretending you don’t want it.”
The words landed low between them.
Savannah’s breath caught — just for a second.
Then Tilly moved.
Their mouth found the curve of her neck, breath warm against her skin.
Their hand slid up Savannah’s waist, fingers tracing her ribs. When Savannah’s hand drifted lower on instinct, Tilly shifted, subtle but clear. Savannah caught it without needing the words and slid her hand back up their side. Tilly’s breath hitched, the good kind, and they kissed her harder for it.
Their calloused fingers found Savannah’s nipple, and she gasped, hips rolling for friction that wasn’t there. Tilly brushedtheir thumb back and forth until their head dropped against the mattress with a quiet moan.
Tilly lowered their mouth to her chest, kissing a slow line downward, but they kept their own body angled just out of reach. Savannah seemed to understand the shift. Tilly was giving, not offering, and they were grateful that she didn’t push for anything more.
Their mouth closed around her other nipple, warm and sure, while their free hand slid back to her waist. They stopped at the waistband of her slacks, fingers curling there. They didn’t push. They waited.
Savannah nodded before they even asked.
Tilly flicked the clasp open, eyes locked on hers, then slipped a hand into her pants. They went exactly where they meant to, nothing more. They cupped her through her underwear, pressure gentle at first, searching.
“Oh, Sav. You’re soaked for me,” they teased.
Savannah whined, too breathless to answer.
“What was that, baby?” Tilly asked softly, the pet name slipping out.
“Please. Please stop teasing me.”
She helped shove the fabric out of the way, pushing her pants lower so nothing separated their hand from her.
Tilly smirked.
“No. I don’t think I will.”
Their hand pressed against Savannah’s wet underwear again, and Savannah groaned with need.
“Til!”
