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sierrale8ne · 15 days ago

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40 DAYS AND 40 NIGHTS THE EPILOGUE

pairing wnba!paige bueckers x singer!oc

taglist @thaatdigitaldiary @flipthepaige @wbbgetsmewetter @mariahthealchemist @pboogerswbb @xxloveralways14 @makethemhoesmad @slvt4her @luvapaigeeyy @hedidnotpleaseme @paigesbabygirl @mopopshop @omg-imtumbling @numberonepartyanth3m @wbb4l @authentic-girl03 @slut4uconnwbb @kplum10 @avvwritesstufff @paigesluver @bueckersbitch @ryywyd @lupinqs @unadulteratedcyclepaper @ohmybueckers @ykylalex @hcneymooners @cherryswisherz

warnings 17.8k words, sexual content, a whole lotta paraye content!

kalena speaks 🪽! i fear the time has come to wrap up paige and raye’s story… but maybe i’ll post something for them again! who knows? this is long… like the longest thing i’ve ever written bc y’all know i love some plot 😊 thank you so much for all the love and all the support throughout it all, i hope you enjoy the epilogue with my babies 🥹

December 2025 — Aspen, Colorado

“Paige hurry up!”

“Ma, I’m trying!”

Weightless snowflakes fall from the sky and onto the wood just below my feet. I’m not used to the cold, living in Georgia followed by California to blame for that.

My knees knock together slightly when a rush of wind blows over, Uggs on my feet, white snow suit pulled on top of layers of sweats and leggings to keep warm— with my hands stuffed into my pockets.

The scenery was beautiful, hills and the large Rocky Mountains covered in a thick blanket of snow. We had just gone skiing down it hours ago, and Paige taught me how to snowboard yesterday. String lights in the town illuminate a nice yellow hue. It’s the first time I’ve gotten to experience a white Christmas, even if it wasn’t actually Christmas yet.

The add on of having a secluded cabin to ourselves was a plus too.

“Baby it’s fucking freezing, God.” I hiss, watching her gloved fingers fumble with the key to the front door of the cabin. She cradles ski equipment in her hands, a large Nike backpack slung over her shoulder. And then there’s me, hands in my pockets watching her struggle with just a bit of amusement.

Paige looks cute, though it really isn’t much of a surprise. A black beanie is fitted onto her head and a black hood on top of that. She’s all bundled up in her winter clothes, snowsuit, beanie, swaddled in all black with an occasional touch of purple like a little kid going to school. Her skin is paler than normal and her nose and cheeks are reddened. Lips, pink, and smothered in vaseline. Her tongue sticks out of the corner of her lips, and I can tell she’s just a bit frustrated.

“I know that, Raye.” She grumbles. “I know you see me with all this shit in my hands.”

I smirk, seeing her struggle after offering to help just minutes before brings a sense of pride to my body. I was right, as I tend to be.

“I told you I’d help, you just wanna be big dog sooooo bad.” I tease, rocking back and forth on my heels. My body leans against the wall, the dark wood barely even felt thanks to all the layers I wear.

“Shut up.”

“Give me the key.”

Paige thinks it over. I can see the way her mouth opens slightly and her eyes flutter when she blinks. Her lashes are long, dark from mascara and slightly damp from one too many tumbles in the snow.

But she hands it over anyway. So I unlock the door, doing it with a kind of ease that makes her cheeks flush more than they already have. “Ladies first.” I smile, holding open the door for her.

Paige ducks her head under the frame, fitting all six feet and some inches of her through the door. “Whatever.” She huffs like a baby, making me giggle behind her.

She kicks her boots off by the door, I follow suit with my own, before walking all of our equipment to the nearby closet.

The cabin is spacious, definitely more than enough for just the two of us, but we use up all the space anyways. The living room has two large couches that face one another, chairs and wood furniture surrounding them both. The nearby fireplace illuminates the room and its high ceilings. A Christmas tree sat bare in the corner until I convinced her to decorate it with me. It looks messy, like we just threw something together last minute—which we did— but still. It’s us.

Everything is comfortable, warm and snug— perfect for our first vacation together.

It doesn’t take long before she’s chasing me up the stairs, some joke that she did not find very funny to blame for. I push my way into our bedroom, navigating to the bathroom and ridding myself of my layers.

“No way you wore that many clothes.” Paige deadpanned. She watches me pull my beanie off my head, followed by my zip-up hoodie. “You didn’t sweat in that?”

“I told you it’s cold out!” I breathe, still catching my breath from dodging her in the living room. “I’m from the south, Ion know shit about snow, P.”

Paige’s clothes fall as well, starting with her black hoodie and long sleeve compression shirt underneath. It leaves her in front of me in a sports bra and sweats hanging fairly low on her hips. “It's almost 30 degrees outside.”

“Which is cold! Don’t gaslight me into thinking it’s not cold.” I laugh, shedding the rest of my clothes and turning on the shower faucet.

The sound of the shower running nearly drowns out the blonde’s voice. So much so that she pulls me to her by my waist just so I can hear her.

My back is pressed to her now bare chest, and surprisingly, she has this heat to her body that sends chills down my spine. A juxtaposition that makes my head spin.

“You’re really warm.” I sigh, tipping my head back onto her shoulder. Paige kisses my neck, slow, soft in a way that was intimate without being sexual. Which I find funny considering My panties are the only clothes I have on, her hands on my hips— about to get into the shower with her.

“Yeah? ‘Cause you’re freezing, mama.” She speaks into my hair, mussed by the beanie I wore nearly all day. “Let’s get you warmed up, how ‘bout that?” I turn to face her, wrapping my arms around her neck.

Her bun messily sits at the back of her head, strands tickling her soft skin. The rosiness of her cheeks stands out more than normal and I can’t stop thinking about how perfect she looks. The entire trip, her eyes are brighter than normal or her smile looks more carefree. She’s been gentler with me too. Overly domestic with how she insisted on making breakfast and led me down the slopes and even rubbing my feet that we sore from my boots.

She made this memorable, and I can’t seem to think of how she’ll top the Christmases to come.

I run my thumb over her cheek, slightly dry from the cold but still just as soft as ever. Goosebumps arise on my skin from how her eyes stare into mine.

“What?”

I shake my head, planting a kiss onto the corner of her mouth. “Nothing. You’re just pretty.”

Paige blushes some more, trailing her hand to my ass. She doesn’t even squeeze, just palming it in her slightly calloused hand. The other wrapped snug around my lower back.

“You’re pretty, Raye.” She hums. Her head turns and she meets my lips fully, sucking gently on my bottom lip like a piece of candy. “Been lookin’ perfect all week. Lookin’ like mine.”

Mine. Still after five months, it makes my knees weaken whenever I hear it. Mine or my girl, the term girlfriend still nearly sends me into a school girl induced shock.

“I am yours. You don’t even gotta worry about that.” I murmur against her mouth.

Steam fills the bathroom. The stickiness of the humidity sticks to my skin, and I know I should be worried about my pressed hair sweating out, but I can’t bring myself to care when she’s languidly moving her lips with mine like she’d die if we stopped.

“I ever tell you how much I love you?” She asks, pulling back with enough resolve to make me go dizzy. “Like foreal.”

“A few times.” I responded. “But, I’d love to hear it again.” I smirk, making the decision to reach for my scarf and wrap my hair. She watches the whole time attempting to keep her eyes on mine rather than my boobs which push towards her.

She laughs and it comes out throaty and deep, rumbling through her chest and through my body. “Get in this shower and I’ll show you.” She says teasingly.

I shake my head. “Nothing funny this time. My legs still hurt from last night.”

“We’ll see.”

—

Raye was setting her mug full of hot chocolate on the bedside table and sighing to herself when I walked into the room. Plaid boxers sit on my hips, an old UConn crewneck stretched over my top half.

She’s comfortable in the bedroom’s king sized bed, white comforter bunched up to warm her bare legs. Her navy blue bonnet sits on her head, skin glowing from the aftermath of her lengthy nightly routine. Lips plump and glossed from her lip mask, slightly pink. She wears one of my hoodies and the angel necklace I swear she hasn’t taken off since I gifted to her sits comfortably around her neck.

Raye’s back rests against some pillows on our headboard Her legs bent at the knee, acting almost as a table for her notebook. I exhale, leaning over to kiss her cheek as I join her.

“What’s this?” I ask, shamelessly leaning into her personal space to get a look at the notepad.

“New song.” She beams. Her eyes grow wide, twinkling in the soft lighting.

I find it adorable how she glows when she’s talking about her music, or when she knows that she’s in a groove. It’s the way you act when you truly love something, that’s how she feels about her music and watching it up close sends a warmth to my heart that I couldn’t even try to get rid of.

I fake a groan, nestling my head into her neck. She smells like coconut and fresh soap. The kind of smell that gets stamped in a file in my brain full of things I love about Maraye Carter. “Baby… we said no work while we’re here.”

She scoffs playfully. “You went to the gym before I woke up?”

“Okay, but I didn’t touch a basketball. We’re supposed to be finding a movie.” I complain, reaching to my left for the polaroids we took before leaving this morning.

Suddenly the notebook is forgotten, tossed somewhere on the bed with a pen stuck in between the pages as a placeholder as she turns slightly to face me. “Wait, I wanna see ‘em!”

We’d taken nine out of the ten, all of which were scattered around the table. A few kissing ones, some silly faces that she insisted on, my arm slung around her shoulder with our ski goggles on— and the like.

“We’re cute, huh?” I tease, sending her a cheeky, tight lipped smile. Raye’s face mirrored my own eyes bright as she pushed my face to the side. “Look at your smile in this one, you love me so bad.” I jeer.

She doesn’t even try to hide it.

She reaches for the stack of photos, shuffling them like they’re a deck of cards. Her hands stop, eyes lingering a bit longer on one in particular. It’s from early in the morning, Raye sat on my lap in the old school kitchen just a minute or two after we ate breakfast. Her arms wrapped around my neck and her lips pressed to my cheek, just slightly kissing the corner of my lips. My eyes were closed just a bit, lip in that scrunch that she seems to be obsessed with.

“This one is mine.” I hear her decide. She sets it off to the side, going through the rest of them. “This we’re tossing. I look awful.” She laughs, hiding the photo from me before I can even reach for it and see for myself.

Though I don’t think she could ever look awful to me. I’ve said that she could wear a trash bag and I’d still think that Raye was the most beautiful and perfect woman in the world.

“Let me see it!” I wrestle with her, giggles and soft breaths falling into my ears.

“No, Pa— move!” She laughs, pushing me back over to my side of the bed. “You play too much, Madison.” She groans, flicking my ear.

“Madison? Damn.” I choke out a laugh, taking the rest of the photos from her and setting them to the side.

“That’s why I’m picking the movie. Move.” Maraye mumbles, reaching over the expanse of my body to grab the remote. I kiss my teeth in distaste, but still, I don’t even try to fight back.

Once my laughing dies down, I snuggle my face against her cheek, the warmth of her body shooting up through me. “I’m sorry, baby. We can jus’ keep that one to ourselves. I promise you look beautiful regardless.”

She ignores me, mushing my face away from her own and clicking on Home Alone 2.

I scoff and pull her into my lap. “Don’t try to act mad, you ain’t fooling nobody.” I speak into her neck, the feeling of my breath on her skin making her smile.

“I was writing a song about you and here you go annoying me.” Her pout is the cutest thing in the world to me, it makes her nose scrunch and her eyelashes tickle the apples of her cheeks.

“About me?” I question, a grin across my face. “Sing it, I wanna hear it, angel.”

“What happened to ‘no working on vacation?’”

My cheeks burn under her glare and I let out a sigh. “Fine. But I still wanna hear it.” I made my arms comfortable around her shoulders, the blanket we were wrapped in slowly slipping down Raye’s body. She backs away from me when I pucker my lips. “Are you crazy?”

“I wanna watch the movie.” She tuts, kissing my cheek before redirecting her gaze to the flatscreen. I don’t even waste a second of time trying and failing to pull her back. “Y’know I love this one.”

“That don’t explain why you’re avoiding my kiss.”

My hand slides to the back of her neck, pulling her back in to kiss me like I wanted. Raye’s lips glide against mine slowly. Even after all these months I can’t get enough of the feeling.

“Better?” She murmurs as she pulls away.

“Better, baby.” I nod. “C’mere.” We sink further into the bed, my arm around her shoulder, a designated spot for it at this point. She looks up at me briefly, the high points of her cheeks turning pink as she smiles. Her pretty hands grip the hem of the blanket, pulling it higher on my torso before nestling in my chest.

“Is it bad If I say I don’t wanna go home yet?” Maraye questions me. Her eyes don’t look up to mine, just locked on the opening scene of the movie.

“Gonna miss me too much?” I tease with a fake frown, but her lack of response lets me know she doesn’t find me funny. I divert my attention to her, getting a glance at her glassy eyes. “Why you all sad, angel? I’ll see you in a few weeks.” I brush her hair out of her face.

She shrugs, “can’t believe you did all this just so I can have a white Christmas.” Raye chuckles, wiping the tears from her eyes before they even get a chance to fall. “I just wanna stay with you and not worry about anything else.”

“Tour starts in two weeks, baby.” I remind her.

She sighs loudly, looking back at the screen. “I know.” She replies. “I don’t like being away from you.”

It warms my heart, which is beating so loudly in my chest I don’t even hear what’s being said in the movie. I hate it too, weeks at a time where I’m on the road, followed by her long trips as soon as I get home.

“Me neither.” I comment honestly. My lips find the top of her head, Raye’s recently straightened hair feels cold against them. I don’t let her go, keeping her tucked in that spot of my arms and chest throughout the whole night.

—

January 2026 — New York City, New York.

“You look pretty.” I hear Brittney compliment Maraye who sits a few feet away from me. Her hand is smoothing over her hair, it’s dark red this time around, layered and in curls that make her look even more goddess-like than she already is, something new she’s trying out for her tour and I’m completely enthralled by it.

“Thank you, B.” She cheeses.

“Showin’ her all 32 is crazy.” I mumble, shuffling the cards in my hand and adjusting the collar of my polo.

“Can you just sit there and be quiet?” She snaps back, kicking my shin with her heeled foot.

The studio lights brighten and the producers on the other side of the threshold lets us know we’re shooting the first take. Brittney scatters off and looks over at my girlfriend with wide eyes.

She looks stunning, as per usual, but her dress that sits nicely on her body is what has my attention. It’s black, long enough to cover her up, but short enough to give me a great view of her moisturized legs. Not much, but enough to keep me mildly distracted.

“You ready?” Raye asks me, playing with the corner of the large index card.

“Always.”

We hear the famous click of the board and the yell of take one before Maraye sits up straight. She’s perfect for the camera, gorgeous smile and big beautiful brown eyes that would make anyone melt. I’m damn near drooling over her where I sit.

“Wassup y’all, I go by Maraye and I’m here with…” She trails her hand out to me, but my eyes are stuck on her and I freeze. “Paige!” She laughs at me, and I blink.

“My fault, my fault. Do it again.” I shake my head.

The producers do it all over again, the lights, the board, the directions.

“Wassup everybody. I’m Maraye, here with…”

“… Paige Bueckers.” I finished.

“And this is the GQ Couples Quiz.”

I never once imagined being on this show, for a multitude of reasons, but to do it with Raye was going to be so entertaining. Our relationship was pretty private, the closest thing to a confirmation being fans catching me in a suite at one of her shows or lingering too close to each other at public events.

And that time last week when the paps caught us making out in her car. It sent WNBA twitter into a frenzy, and her fans nearly threw a party.

Regardless, I was jumping at the opportunity to show off my knowledge of my girl to the world.

“Easy dub, don’t y’think?” She asks, clearing her throat and crossing one of those beautiful brown legs over the other.

I laugh, “yeah, easy for me. Better watch out.” I tease.

“Wanna bet on it?” Raye turns and looks at me intently, a smirk on her face and a slight tilt of her head that leaves too much for my imagination.

“I do, actually.” I nod, adjusting the collar of my shirt. Today was one of the days that I let Brittney style me in whatever she pleased. Making my reaction to the high neckline a little more intense than she probably expected.

Raye grins, tapping her chin with a finger as she pretends to think. “Okay so when I win.” I roll my eyes at her choice of the word when. “I dunno if I can say this on camera.” She says, looking off to the crew behind the cameras that start laughing.

“You need help, dude.” I shake my head, amused at her very obvious suggestion. I lean my head closer to her, turning slightly so she can speak in my ear.

My eyes grow wide as she speaks. Raye surprises me more and more as our relationship progresses. She pulls back from me with a smirk, and I’m positive that my entire face is flushed by just how horny she is.

“Okay. And if I win, you come out to Miami for Unrivaled.” I offer and Raye nods with a smile.

“I was gonna do that anyway.” She rolls her eyes that are nicely lined with black. “Deal.” She says, sticking her hand out for me and I shake it firmly.

I’ve agreed to let Maraye go first to get a feel for the competition. If she were to know that, she’d probably tell me I’m too competitive; taking it to heart. And I am. Because losing on the internet would simply be too embarrassing.

She gets comfortable in her chair, swiveling her hips in a way that makes me forget we aren’t the only people in the room.

“What is my favorite movie of all time?” She asks, holding those sleek white cards close to her chest. Raye has like 30 favorite movies, all of which depend on her mood. “The one that I always make you watch, like you literally have no choice.”

“Oh, Just Wright?”

She smiles with a nod, tucking the notecard at the back of the pile. “10 outta 10 movie. If you’ve never watched it, do so quickly!” Raye says to the camera.

“Let’s not drag it. 10 outta 10 is crazy.”

She shoots me a look, eyebrows raised and head turned. A look she gives me when she’s asking me to keep testing her.

“Don’t even. You think Die Hard is good.”

“It is!”

“Not. Anyways, what’s my favorite nickname for you?”

I dart my tongue out over my lower lip. “Dad— I’m just playin’.” Maraye’s hand reaches over the space almost instantly, slapping my thigh with her french tipped fingers. “Blondie? Or Madison, you been callin’ me that a lot lately.”

“You get the point for ‘Madison.’ I think your middle name is cute, babe.” She cheeses, blowing me a kiss.

“I’m too good at this.” I shrug, feeling myself a little too much.

“Chill. I guarantee y’ont know this one.” Raye rolls her eyes as she switches cards. “Where did we first meet, and what did I think of you. See that’s a good one, y’all ate a lil bit.” She looks over to the producers and gives them a thumbs up.

That’s my girlfriend, everyone.

“We first met on opening night, and I literally fell on you and you thought I was the sexiest woman to ever walk the planet.” I answer with a shrug.

Maraye shoots the camera a side eye before looking back at me with a fake grin. “You can get half a point?”

“You’re telling me I’m wrong?”

“Yes!”

“Wow, so I’m not the sexiest woman alive?” I feign hurt, my hand pressed against my chest, right over my heart.

She scoffs. “You definitely are. But that wasn’t what I thought at first.”

“Then what did you think?” I lean in.

“You’re gonna get mad If I say it.”

“Say it.”

“I thought you were sweaty and I was worried about my outfit” Raye muses, a smirk playing on her lips. I scoff, because while I should be embarrassed, the admission is so distinctly Maraye that all I can do is laugh.

“Aight bro.”

“But I swear immediately after I thought that you were stunning!” She laughs in an attempt to neutralize. “Seriously! Got a li’l star struck right after, baby.”

I brush her off. “You’re ass kissing, whatever!”

Maraye lets out a gasp, a large dramatic, genuinely terrible, gasp that makes me think she should pick up a career in acting. “Watch your language, you can’t say that here!”

“Who said?” I fire back. The producers behind the camera wave me off, silently telling me that it’s fine. “See.” I push, sticking my tongue out playfully.

“Annoying.”

It goes like that for a while, Raye asking me questions— her favorite food (crab legs), biggest turn offs (snoring, a subtle dig at myself), facts about her that only I could know (what that tattoo on her ribcage says)— followed by me answering them and getting all of them right.

She’s trying really hard to throw me off track, that look in her eye that always makes me think she’s lying when really she’s just good at faking it. But it’s my turn now, the cards both literally and figuratively in my hands now.

“You got one wrong.” Raye informs me, giving me golf claps with a slight grin that makes me feel like the only person in the room in a building full of people and lights and cameras. “I think I can beat that.”

I nod, finding her confidence amusing. Whenever it came to competition between us, I believed that Raye would always get either the 'easy' questions or she'd cheat, which she swore was never the case and that I was just a sore loser. “Yeah, we’ll see about that. What’s my guilty pleasure?” I read the card.

She sends me a smirk, silently asking if she should take it there or not. She doesn’t; she knows better. “Um, you like those wheel throwing videos, like the pottery ones.” Maraye answers and I nod.

“I wanna try it sometime, but she refuses.” I tell the camera.

Raye scoffs. “You’re messy! You’d get clay all over my clothes.” She’s right, the intimacy that would come from sitting in a quiet studio, dim lights, soft jazz or R&B echoing; would distract me to the point where I’d send a lump of wet clay flying across the room.

“What’s my go-to pregame meal?”

Raye clears her throat, answering without hesitation. “Pasta. Any kind. As long as there’s garlic. And some kinda protein.” She answers. “Grilled chicken is the current protein obsession, by the way.” She sends a wink to the camera, as if to say ‘yep I know my girl’ which she does.

I blink lazily, thinking about how her hair drapes over her shoulder. “Solid start, ma, but these are all easy questions.”

“You got my easiest question wrong.”

“Did not.”

“You absolutely did—”

We’re cut off by a producer clearing his throat, telling us to wrap up the bickering. I switch cards, getting back to the subject at hand.

We kept going—my favorite hobby, lego building was her answer though it was really golfing. Maraye nearly tore the set apart swearing up and down I just lied on the internet at her expense. I asked her about our first date. She got the restaurant wrong but remembered how I wore that black Kith jacket she secretly loved, so I gave her a point. My least favorite thing about her (when she wakes up in the middle of the night to write before “an idea leaves her and blesses someone else.”) and dream vacations.

I sit there shocked, because not only does she remember these things, she remembers the little details. Restaurant excluded, she remembered everything. Topics that we had touched on maybe once or twice that she took and practically tattooed into her brain.

I nearly stopped worrying about losing because watching her talk about me and us like it was a topic she studied for hours made up for it.

By the time I reached the final question—How did I tell you I loved you?—Maraye’s teasing, celebratory grin softened. “Okay,” I said, a little quieter. “This one’s serious. You get it wrong and we’re breaking up.” I joke.

Her eyes darken, not with doubt but with memory. Like it happened yesterday.

“I was headlining for ACL in Austin, and Cam called me saying you won rookie of the year and they were giving you your trophy that night and that I needed to get home.” She starts speaking. I could listen to her tell the story for hours. “So as soon as I got off stage, I got on a jet and rushed back. I made dinner, and you came in with your trophy all shocked that I was there.”

I hum at the memory. “I wasn’t expecting you back for another day or sum.” I justified, feeling my cheeks blush and neck tingle under the camera glare.

“We were eating and you said something— you’re usually not that funny but this time it made me, like, burst into laughter— I spilled red wine all over me and down my shirt.”

“‘Usually not that funny” is crazy! Now If I take a point away—” I laugh, pointing a ringed finger in her direction.

“Let me finish!” Raye slaps my hand away. “I was embarrassed as hell trying to dab my already ruined shirt, but when I looked at you, you just had this stupid doe eyed look on your face. You got up, kissed me, and said you loved me.”

I kissed her harder than I think I ever did that night. Tasting the wine off her lips and the little bit of garlic from our mashed potatoes. It happened exactly like that. I’d looked at her and just knew I was completely screwed, so in deep that nothing could possibly pull me away from her.

“I’d like to point out that she stuttered for like five minutes before saying it back.” I let out a slow breath, looking at this woman like she hung the moon and the stars, which she probably did. “But yeah, you’re right, so another point for Ms. Carter.”

“I win?”

“You win, angel. We can do your thing once we get up outta here.” I nod, reaching for her hand as she stands up to climb into my lap. It’s natural, honestly I think not having her on it is more odd than when she does take a seat on me. “Well GQ, thank you for having us, but me and my lady got some things to tend to. Right, baby?”

“Yes we do.” She smirks, waving at the camera until the red recording light shuts off.

—

February 2027 — Miami, Florida

I don’t know why I ever assumed that Paige and I could be cordial in the same house for a few days.

We can’t.

Or, more like she can’t.

I say that because at whatever hour of the night it is, she lays here, spooning me lovingly— the warmth of her body completely engulfing my own— clearly doing everything in her power to wake me up.

It started with the groaning, which honestly she does all the time. I didn’t think much of it.

But then she’s breathing all raspy and shit in my ear, mumbling my name into my ear. Her hand traveled under my shirt, first only feeling on my abdomen but now it rests soundly under my tit, just cupping it like that’s how she normally sleeps.

I’d like to think I’ve been doing a good job ignoring her.

“Hey,” Paige whispers against my skin, voice husky with sleep and something heavier. “Ma.”

“Mmm.” I groan, digging my head further into my pillow before even getting the chance to open my eyes and look at her.

“Damnit, woman, wake up.” Paige groans, dragging out her plea in my ear. She’s grinding against me, quite literally humping against my backside in a way that makes me wonder who she is and what she’s done with my girlfriend.

I let out a quiet sound, somewhere between a sigh and a hum. My eyes flutter open, catching the soft blue cast of moonlight spilling in through the window. “What time is it?”

“Late,” Paige murmured. “Or early. I dunno, didn’t mean to wake you.” She lies, making me scoff in the midst of my sleep induced haze.

But her mouth was still on my shoulder, trailing up toward the curve of my neck. The kisses were light, almost lazy—if lazy felt like fire slowly licking through my nerves. I blink, finally catching a glimpse of the clock on my nightstand.

I turn my head just enough to look at her. Paige’s hair was tousled, her eyes heavy-lidded, lips already parted. That look she got when she couldn’t help herself. And it was absolutely, utterly irresistible.

“You didn’t mean to,” I echo, voice dry. “Sure.”

Paige smiled, guilty but unrepentant, and slid a thigh between my own from behind. Her hands draw patterns on my stomach, slow but all the more unrelenting. “You were breathing like you were dreaming about me, so I figured I’d check.” she whispered, mouth brushing the shell of my ear. She knows what she’s doing, my body instantly shivers on contact. “C’mon, ma. I only got you for two days.”

I sigh, turning over on my back languidly with sleep still clouding my vision. I can just barely make out her figure through the Miami city lights that peak through the window. Her boxer band peaking out from her basketball shorts and a thin tank top riding up her abdomen. In all honesty I think if I wasn’t so outrageously tired from my flight delay I would be letting her turn me out right now.

“Paige, I got rehearsal in the morning.” I whine, trying to stand my ground but goddamn does she make it hard. “You could’ve waited until morning,” I whisper, but my fingers were already curling around the back of her neck, guiding her mouth back down to my sweet spot.

“I didn’t want to,” she breathes against my collarbone.

She hovers over me, her hand cupping my chin with one hand, angling it to the side. She leaned into my neck and the kiss that followed wasn’t soft this time—it was full of quiet hunger, lips parting;sucking, hands starting to roam with familiar purpose.

Paige’s palm found my hip and slid upward, dragging the hem of my pajamas—aka her Sparks t-shirt—with it. My vision finally starts to adjust, and my hand covers my face in an attempt to keep sleep from leaving me.

“I can’t sleep like this.”

“You have a hand. There’s a vibe in the—oh.” Paige cuts me off with a grip of my own hand, sliding it right between her legs where she clearly needs me the most.

She’s practically, no, literally soaked through her shorts. The material is damp against my hand, I can only wonder how much of a mess she made on the back of my shorts from her grinding.

“Ion want none of that. I need you. Fuckin’ soaked for you, Raye.”

My fingers press further against her core and she lets out a strangled groan into the air, arching into me. The slow grind of her body on my fingers igniting something low and pulsing in my abdomen.

“I was sleeping,” I say under my breath, but there was no protest in it, just the tremble of want behind my voice. Even as I try to hide it, the way she makes my cunt throb right now— with her pleading and grinding and purely submissive behavior— isn’t something I could even try to hide.

“It don’t look like it now.”

And it doesn’t. I was very, very awake.

“Lay back.” I give in, pulling my fingers away from her.

Paige doesn’t wait another second. She’s following my direction, rolling off me and lying on her back with her head nestled on a stack of pillows. I can’t help but giggle through my faux anger at her eagerness.

I find my way between her legs, nose nudging her own before our mouths meet again—open, slow, almost aching in the way we moved against each other, like we had all the time in the world but still needed more. Her fingers tangled in my hair, tugging gently as I pressed my body against hers in the dark.

“You’re a brat.” I groan against Paige’s lips. Her hand pulls me in deeper, so much further that I think she might swallow me whole. Her tongue navigates my mouth like it hasn’t been there in years, licking whatever mouthwash I used hours ago out of my mouth and into her own. “Waking me up like that, so needy, hm?”

She doesn’t answer, obviously too touch deprived to process the nature of my words. I trail my hands to the hem of her tank, tugging it over her head with ease.

My hand moved with unhurried certainty, gliding up Paige’s chest—fingertips grazing over ribs, pausing at the underside of her breast. I don’t push or rush, just touching like she’s some artifact that could break if I do too much.

Her hand digs deeper into my hair, tugging stubbornly at my scalp. I moan at the feeling, eyes fluttering shut before moving down her chest. I lick lightly at her nipple, pink and standing up for attention, before sucking on it.

Paige’s lips parted around a soft gasp, one arm falling to her side, the other threading through my hair, urging me closer.

“More, ma. Fuck— just, anything.” She whines, which sends a blush to my cheeks that is noticeable even in the dark.

Paige doesn’t do this much, she doesn’t give in completely or fall back and let me do as I please. There’s always a bit of dominance underneath all her sexual wants and needs. But now? Anything I do to her is better than me doing nothing at all, and that sets my soul on fire.

“Shut up, Paige.” I mumble, a free hand moves down to her shorts, the other groping and feeling at her chest in a manner that makes her whine. Breathy with a bit of an edge. “You woke me up, you’re gonna take what I feel like giving you.”

Lucky for her, what I feel like is getting my mouth on her. Since the moments we got together, Paige has made it known that she’s as much of a munch as could be, and while I might not be at her level yet, the pleasure that comes with watching her fall undone on my tongue is other worldly.

So I yanked myself back from her nipple, slightly missing the feeling of having it in my mouth. Her shorts come off first, down her tanned and muscular legs and onto the floor behind me.

My fingers press to her core through her boxers, and she’s soaked. So much so that I’m not even sure I can feel a bit of dry fabric. “I think you were the one dreamin’ about me, P.”

“Mmm, I was.” She confirms, pushing the hair in my eyes out of my face. Even in the dark, I can see how her blues lock on my browns, pupils dilated but eyes falling low. “Dreamin’ of you eatin’ my pussy, baby.”

I nearly moan at her voice, taking in her scent and her panty-dropping, Minnesota accent. My fingers break into her boxers, tugging the waistband down her crotch, her thighs, her calves— before also throwing them off the bed.

“Is that right?”

“Makin’ me cum. You’d look so sexy with my cum on your face.” Paige whimpered, shifting beneath me, already trembling under the weight of my voice. “My shit’s so wet for you, baby. Need you to taste me— fuckkkk, Raye.” She groans, head falling back when My tongue finally meets her cunt.

The walls of her Miami apartment are thin, I know that and so does Paige but it seems like she doesn’t care. Her normally breathy and soft moans grow loud with just a few licks. Her hand deep in my hair, scratching my scalp like it’s her lifeline.

Paige’s breath came in shallow little pulls, her chest rising and falling as if she were still catching up to what was happening—what I was doing to her. She lay there, pliant beneath me, the sheets gripped loosely in one hand, eyes half-lidded and shining.

“Just—God, just like that, ma. Y’do it so good.” I listen, eating her out just like that, tongue circling her clit before dipping inside for a taste. And Goddamn does she taste perfect. Like if an angel themselves made a potion and decided that that’s how Paige fucking Bueckers should taste.

I drink it all, lips wrapping around her swollen and throbbing clit. “Tastes so mmmm, baby. Soooo good.” I breathe into her, keeping my eyes glued to the figure above me. It’s as if I’m searching for something along the lines of approval and want.

“Oh my fuckkk, gonna make me…” Her moan trails off, eyes rolling back before briefly snapping up to look at me. Her mouth forms a perfect circle tongue occasionally darting to the corner of her lips as she pants. “Raye, baby, I can’t.” She hiccups.

I look at her with faux pity, pulling back just enough to get a glimpse of all the sweat dripping down her skin. Paige was losing it, legs trembling around my head. “I don’t care. Woke me up for this, take it.” I grumble, but my feelings towards the matter left ages ago. I can’t bring myself to care about how tired I’ll be, when Paige’s slick is dripping from my mouth, lingering on my tongue.

My tongue dips back inside her, tasting her deeply. Paige's body convulses, her breath hitching as my mouth and occasionally the brush of my nose on her clit worked in tandem, bringing her to the brink of orgasm. Her cries filled the room, her body trembling with the intensity of her release.

“Gonna cum, fuck, I-I wanna cum, angel.” Paige babbles in that way that tells me she’s closer than she lets on, her hips lifting, pressing her against my mouth. "Don't stop. Please, don't stop."

“You wanna cum?”

“Raye.”

“In my mouth?” I tease, following it up with a long and hard suck on her clit.

“Goddamn, ma. So perfect,” the praise sends a moan through me, and the vibrations push her over that edge. Paige’s voice and moans and cries echo loudly in my ears. “Yes, Raye.” Her chest heaves up and down as I work her through it, planting light kisses on her throbbing cunt.

I lick my lips in an attempt to savor every last drop before wiping my chin with the back of my hand. “Good enough?” I joke, but there’s an underlying feeling of wanting to be praised by her behind it. Knowing that I really did make her feel that good.

Paige’s hand leaves my hair, letting me crawl up the bed until we’re face to face. There, she cups my face, holding me delicately as she searches my eyes through her post orgasmic haze.

“You get better at that every fuckin’ time.” She sighs, running a thumb over my cheek.

I smile, her taste still leaving its mark in my mouth. “You’re touching me like I’ll break.” My lips connect with hers, fast and insistent, allowing her to taste herself. Paige sucks on my tongue, groaning something about my explicit nastiness somewhere between hurried kisses and slow grinds of my hips against her thigh.

“I just can’t believe you’re real sometimes.” She sighs into my mouth. I turn my head, deciding then and there that I want more.

I slow down the kiss, letting her deepen it. She pulls me close, snaking an arm around my waist and holding my face with the other. She kissed me like I really was fragile. The kiss built gradually, mouths sliding, breath mingling, a burn between my legs transforming into a drip of my slick.

Paige shifts up just barely, enough for my weight to fully press onto her thigh to make me feel owned. Grounded. “Do something, please.” I whine, grinding down harder, letting the drag of the seam of my shorts stimulate my cunt. “Baby, I—”

“I think you got it.” She says, an edge to her voice that turns me into nothing. “You need that, baby? Needa fuck yourself in me like this?” Paige kisses down my neck, licking her tongue up and down my neck before sinking her teeth into the skin.

“Ah, fuck!”

Paige lifts my shirt, and I fight to get it off my arms, about to throw it over my head when she flexes her thigh and I instead throw myself onto her shoulders. My head in her neck, her hands on my tits, kneading and kneading; and sucking and fucking sucking on my neck.

“Y’know how much of a slut you are for getting off on my thigh, right now?” She hums, rocking me back and forth at a pace much different from the one I set for myself. It’s faster and my clit snags again and again on her leg. “Can feel that pussy just throbbing for me, angel.” Paige’s voice caught, and she kissed my jaw again, a quiet sound breaking in her throat.

I roll my hips in response, feeling my incoming release shoot from the nerves on my clit to my stomach. My legs tingle, chest and neck heating up. My fingers tremble, nails digging into Paige’s muscular back.

“Paige.” I groan into her skin. Drool spills from my lips and down her neck, trailing her spine. “Close. Fuck, ‘m so, so fuckin’ close. Gonna cum for you.”

“Yeah, just for me. Gonna cum in your pants like a good girl for me.” She eggs me on, moving her lips to a different spot near my shoulder and I just know she’s decorating me in hickeys that’ll last long after I’m on a plane out of Miami. “C’mon, ma. Feels so good, don’t it?”

“I’m cumming— fuckkkk!” I moan. High and uncontrolled and so messy I can feel my release seeping through and onto her skin.

Paige talks me through it all, as she’s so great at doing. Calling me pretty, and rubbing my back. Stripping me of my shirt and the soiled shorts and satin panties that literally stick to my skin. I fall into bed next to her, naked and warm and still both jaded from the orgasms.

The room goes still again, save for the low hum of the fan and the soft rustling of sheets as we shifted, tangled around each other. Paige lay on her back, one arm behind her head, the other resting across my bare spine. I was sprawled half on top of her, chin on her chest, staring up at how pleased with herself she looks.

“Wipe that smirk off your face,” I said, voice still scratchy from sleep—and other things.

She shakes her head, planting a soft kiss to the top of my sweaty head. “Can’t help it, shit finally went my way.” Paige laughs, her fingers trailing absent-minded circles along my back, the quiet night wrapped around us again—warm, safe, and full of everything we didn’t have to say out loud.

—

November 2027 — Casco Viejo, Panama City, Panama

The heat was the first thing that hit me—thick, fragrant, alive. Something way different than California. There it was dry, but here it’s almost suffocating. Humid air that seemed to wrap around me like an embrace.

I can pick up on the smell of ripe fruit, blooming flowers, and ocean wind carried from miles away.

Raye stands in front of me, phone pressed snug to her ear, as her conversation goes back and forth between English and Spanish. She wears a long multicolored skirt—one that I had a lot of feeling under on the plane— and a white tube top.

I drag our bags behind us, as we exit the airport, feeling sweat accumulating on my forehead. But it wasn’t just the weather that made me sweat—it was the crowd of people waiting just outside the airport doors, holding handmade signs and waving excitedly the second they spotted Maraye.

And it was very clear who they were here for.

She slips her phone in her tote bag the second her family comes to view. “¡Ay, por fin!” someone shouted, a man— tall with grays that decorated his thick curls and beard— and then Maraye was gone from my side, swallowed into a wave of arms and kisses and rapid-fire Spanish.

I watched her cousins pull her into one chaotic hug, and her aunt wept dramatically into her shoulder, all while her grandmother stood behind them all, smiling so wide her eyes disappeared behind her glasses.

From what I’ve pieced together, Raye hasn’t seen this side of her family since she graduated high school years ago. The emotions are warranted. Even for her, she’s been talking my ear off about this trip for the last couple months, and now that we’re here it brings a grin to my face that I couldn’t wipe away.

I hung back, suitcases in hand, trying not to look awkward, but before I could retreat any further, a small boy—maybe six—looked up at me with wide eyes.

“¿Tú eres la novia?” He asked shyly, squinting at me through the sun and craning his head up to me. I bend my knees, sinking to his height before sticking out a hand.

“That’s me, yeah.” I smile.

I can feel eyes on me in an instant, the much needed conversation coming to a close as I talk to the young boy, Donovan is his name.

“Everyone, this is Paige.” Maraye said firmly, breaking away from the crush of family and walking back to sink her hand behind my head, ruffling my hair. “Todos sean amables con ella, she’s a bit nervous.” She whispers the last bit, making my cheeks redden more than they already are.

There was a beat of silence—and then, as if a switch had been flipped, the group erupted again. Aunts and cousins came forward one by one, greeting me with kisses on both cheeks, calling me different variations of mija and bella and young boys already guaranteeing that they could beat me in one on one.

Tía Lydia, a woman I’ve known to be Maraye’s favorite aunt, even if she didn’t say it aloud, approaches me with a smile. I remember late nights when they gossip together for hours, or occasional FaceTimes where she’d pan the phone to me and suddenly I’m up to date with years old family lore that I’ll unpack for the rest of the night.

She hugs me tight, on her toes even in the heels she wears. “Thank you for bringing her here, we’ve missed her.”

“She’s missed you. Seriously, hasn’t stopped talking about it.” I hum, picking up on the scent of strong perfume and something sweeter— coconut? “Gracias por la invitación.”

Rate stands somewhere near, laughing her sweet laugh and letting her hair fly free in the wind. It’s grown longer in the last two years, once thick, shoulder length curls now cascading down her back. My eyes can’t stop looking at her amidst conversation, the glow of her brown skin, earrings down the cuff of her ear.

That’s my girl. And she brought me here, to her family.

Tia Lydia wraps her arm around my waist, holding Maraye’s suitcase against my protests. “Come, come.” She hums, shoes clicking against the dark concrete towards the car. “¿Te gusta el ceviche?”

I curse in my head, mentally unprepared to navigate through the language I’ve spent the last year and a half trying to learn for this specific moment. “Uh…yes. I’ve had it before.” I stutter, and I know if Raye is listening, she’s laughing at my english responses. “Yours is probably better, tho’.”

She laughs, the kind that reminds you of your favorite dish as a kid and just makes you smile. It’s all too similar to Raye’s, and the connection makes it all the more enjoyable.

By the time we reached the family home—nestled in a lush, flower-lined neighborhood that I think I instantly fell in love with—it felt like I’d already been adopted.

My Spanish, if it could even be called that, was shaky; but it didn’t seem to matter. When we got into the home, sandals clacking against the hardwood and the stone, Raye’s family was already enveloping us into everything. Any possible jet lag was thrown out the window and replaced by a buzz that lingered through my blood and in the air.

I played dominoes with her uncles, my natural competitive nature seeming to keep me in with their approval but still a bit out of the game.

She had stopped by, handing out cold Coronas with lime like it was second nature, and it very well could’ve been. Raye took a seat in my lap, that was natural too. She pointed out what she thought I should put down here and there, and when win number one was finally under my belt, her uncle looked at me with a drunk smile, saying, “la mujer sabe mejor.” Which brought laughter over the table and a slap to his shoulder from my girlfriend.

The young boys were already insisting on playing me tournament style, even neighborhood kids joining in.

The wins came easy, so did the trash talk. “Don’t choke like game 6!” Ricky, an older cousin from Raye’s dad’s side murmured to me when I checked the ball.

The burn lingered a little, because I did indeed choke in my first finals appearance. Losing a rough game to the Lynx in Minnesota. I have to quit playing like shit whenever I’m there, really.

But that dig turned me up, I beat him 11-0 and after that, they all quit.

I’m inside now, sweat sticking to my neck and the back of my buttoned shirt, It loosened some after between the legs dribbles and spin moves. Family members sit on the steps outside, others in the living room watching some soccer match.

But I can’t seem to move from the kitchen entrance.

The kitchen was warm and alive, windows open to the breeze, light pouring in across the tile. Maraye stood at the counter beside her grandmother, their heads bent together over a pot of arroz con coco. She was laughing—freely, hands moving as she spoke, a little bit of flour smudged on her cheek.

And it felt like I’d just seen her for the first time again.

It reminds me of that dinner party all those years ago, nestled in the warmth of Cam’s kitchen. I’ll always remember that dress she wore—red, strapless, and tip-toeing the line between casual and scandalous— how her smile radiated so bright that it visited me multiple times in my dreams.

Her grandmother was teasing her gently in Spanish, and Raye rolled her eyes in mock exasperation but kept stirring the pot exactly how she was told.

She moved so naturally here—like she belonged to the walls, the rhythm, the history in the room. She was free, the weight of being away from family for so long finally melting away.

She wasn’t different from the woman I knew in our shared apartment back home, but here… she seemed brighter. Rooted. Full.

My heart swells as I watch her. How she sways along gently to the music that plays, hearing her speak more Spanish than I’ve heard from her in a minute.

I didn’t even notice that Maraye had caught me looking until she turned, a sly grin tugging at the corner of her mouth.

“Paige.” She hums, “ven aquí.” She calls me over with a tilt of her head, flour and coconut milk staining her fingers.

I walk over, trying to hide the sweat and nerves that stick to my body. Her grandmother gives me a look and a kiss on my cheek before fleeting the kitchen.

“What?” Raye asks, hands on her hips.

I shake my head, slow and full of awe. “You’re just…” my voice trails off, feeling slightly clouded from beer and the drug that is my girlfriend.

She bumps her hip with my own, sliding the wood spoon into my slightly trembling hand. I don’t know why my body betrays me like this, but there’s something about my girl being so domestic? Cooking in the moonlight and looking so ethereal.

“You okay, baby?”

“I think I’m falling in love with you all over again, mami.”

—

“¡No asunto divertido!” I hear my tia yell out after Paige, very clearly expressing her concern for what we both would be doing on the balcony alone. The blonde brushes her off with some Spanish slang that makes me muffle a giggle. It was getting better, and sitting next to my abuela at dinner fixed her accent too.

Music still drifted up faintly from the street below the balcony—lively cumbia rhythms rising and falling like the city had its own heartbeat. Bursts of laughter from my youngest cousins fill the air, alongside the clatter of plates being cleared and the sound of bare feet and sandals against the stone ground below.

Warm light spilled from the windows of the family home, bathing the worn terracotta balcony tiles in a soft amber glow.

Panama’s night air wrapped around me—humid, thick with the scent of bougainvillea, grilled street food, and the salty trace of the ocean somewhere nearby. Stars hung lazily above the old colonial rooftops, flickering through the haze.

I stand at the railing barefoot, wine glass in hand. I focus on breathing in the moment, taking in the fact that the last time I was here, I probably didn’t realize the impact this place would have on my life. My cheeks were flushed from dancing, the humid air clung to my skin in a way that made me feel undone in the best way.

To my right sits Paige on a straw woven two-seater. She had shed her button up, sitting soundly in a white shirt and baggy jean shorts. Her hair is damp, either sweat or the aftermath of her water balloon fight with the neighborhood kids. Her sandals were kicked off ages ago, pulling her knees to her chest as she does the same thing as me. Watching.

She was good, unbelievably good with everything. Conversing with the adults, entertaining the kids, driving me crazy. I don’t know if I’ve ever been so sure of anything the way I am about Paige. She looks buzzed, eyes bouncing between wide and low from multiple Coronas and a shoddy seven hour flight.

“Too much?” I ask, a lazy grin tugging at my mouth. “My family’s a lot.”

“They’re perfect,” Paige says softly, her eyes still wide from the whirlwind of hugs, dancing, food, and Spanish spoken too fast for her to keep up with. “I’m prolly the one who’s too much. I nearly cried when your tía brought me another plate of food.”

I let out a breathy laugh, dragging my feet closer to where she sits. When I sit, my eyes fall back over the view. The slight breeze and rumble of rain in the sky, sun setting beyond the horizon.

“You didn’t cry. I saw how you devoured that second pla—”

“Ight that’s enough outta you.” Her hand meets my shoulder, shoving me playfully. “I’m deadass. She been calling me ‘mija’ all night. It was over after that.”

And it’s something about the way ‘mija’ falls from her tongue that makes my legs cross and my heart simultaneously swell at the same time. My hand traces the patterns over my skirt, thinking to myself.

“She loves you. Everyone does.” I sigh, looking over my shoulder to her. “You’re part of this now, P.”

The blonde brood her legs off the edge of the seat, scooting closer until she sits right behind me, my body between her legs. Paige takes my hair in her hands, pushing it over my slightly tanned shoulder. A breath falls from her lips as she sets her chin on my shoulder, the smile on her face fading into something softer, more fragile. “You mean that?”

It’s simple, but the three words weigh so much heavier.

“I wouldn’t have brought you here if I didn’t.” I look at her, like I really looked. The clearness of her bright almost glass-like skin, freckles that came in a light brown with age, pink lips and the most gorgeous blue eyes I’ve ever had the pleasure of looking into. My eyes are steady, full of a quiet kind of certainty. “This place… this family? It’s my heart. And I wanted you here because you are, too.”

My words settle in the air, traveling through the wind.

Paige’s eyes flutter closed as she leans into my exposed upper back. She places a kiss, small and lingering, on the tattoo there. A dainty libra constellation that Paige watched me get the entire time. Her lips are warm on my skin, like a kiss of life.

She tips my head towards her, closer, so close I smell the papaya off her breath. Paige leans in and kisses me, slow and grateful, lingering as the breeze stirred the night around us and sent goosebumps to my skin. “Truth time?” Paige questions against my mouth.

It’s become our thing. After a bit of overthinking while on the road or those nights where we just needed to vent. Truth time insured a moment of no judgement, just the truth.

So I nod, letting her say whatever she wants.

When she pulled back, her voice was barely above a whisper, gravelly from cheers and competitive yells. “I want this with you. Not just the trips or the dancing or the family dinners. I want it all, angel. The quiet mornings, the hard stuff, the little things. I wanna know your people. I wanna be your people.”

I can feel my throat tighten in a mix of emotion and thoughts of the future. The apartment we share transforms into a home, our home.

I set my wine glass down and cup Paige’s face in both hands, thumbs brushing along her cheekbones like I was grounding myself in something real.

“You’ve always been my people, baby. My person since forever.” I murmur, voice thick.

We sat in the silence that followed, surrounded by the laughter from inside that we stepped away from.

The world moved on around us, but here—on this quiet balcony tucked in above the chaos—it felt like we carved out a space where only love existed.

Where only I existed with her.

I turn back around after a beat. Back pressed to Paige’s chest. And after a long stretch of quiet, I could feel her laugh softly, the breath of it brushing against my ear. “I think we should have a balcony like this at our first home. Could picture you rocking our baby out here.”

My voice gets caught in my throat.

“All pregnant and shit, glowing. Our kid in your arms. I’ll even learn how to cook foreal, I’d do that for you.” She decides, voice as certain as ever in my ears.

I grin. “That a proposal?”

“Maybe.” Paige nudged me.

“I’m just saying. I’d say yes.”

Paige pulls me in again, holding me tight against her. “Good. Because I plan to ask.”

—

July 2028 — Crypto.com arena, Los Angeles, California

“You need to breathe.”

“I’m trying!”

“She’s in love with you, stop freaking out.”

“This is so cliche, Cameron.” I breathe, running my fingers through my hair, attempting to keep it as straight and uniform as possible.

Cam sighs through the phone. “You’re telling the one who got proposed to at the Eiffel tower about cliches?” And when she puts it like that, my breathing just barely starts to regulate itself. “She has no idea. I got her all dressed up, she went with Cassie to get her nails done, just please pull yourself together.”

“Okay. Okay. I’m fine. Everything is fine.” I speak, mostly to myself, and Cameron hangs up.

It has been planned like this for a week, an impulsive decision that kept me scrolling through google when she slept on my chest and pulling whatever strings I could while at the practice facility. I even spent the last hours of All-Star weekend searching for and buying the perfect ring: a delicate gold band with an oval cut diamond tucked into the center.

I was going to do it there. Similarly to how I asked her to be my girlfriend in the comfort of our hotel room.

But then I decided she needed something more. Something big but still private, still just us.

My phone buzzes in my pocket again, and I dig it out of my cream colored dress pants. A black polo is fitted on my body, diamond jewelry around my neck and a bezeled watch around my wrist— courtesy of Raye’s anniversary gift a few nights earlier.

maraye: you ready? i’m coming in now 7:38pm

paige: Yeah, the locker room is unlocked! 7:38pm

I hadn’t told anyone, choosing to just tell Raye we were having a post-anniversary dinner. Which isn’t a total lie, since the festivities of my fourth All-Star appearance caused our celebration to include crashing in bed with makeup still on our faces.

I hadn’t told Azzi, nor my mother, and definitely not Nika or Kaylee. So besides Cam and Cassie making sure she went where she was supposed to and when, it was all me.

And I’d been waiting.

I hear the voice of a man outside of the door, voice greeting my girlfriend, and only a few seconds later she’s walking into the room. Slightly worried about what could be waiting for her, but I keep calm; normal.

Raye wears all black, but not in a way that dulled her. It clung to her in all the right places, silky and smooth, with a deep V-neckline that shimmered just slightly under the locker room haze. Her collarbones were kissed with gold, delicate hoops in her ears, and her hair—a cascade of defined curls—was pulled into a loose, romantic updo that looked effortless but elegant.

Timeless.

Like she had just stepped out of a dream I once had but could never name.

Like she stepped out of her own song.

Like she was the angelic sound of music I heard for the first time from the couch.

I stand up from my locker, dragging my feet over to where she stands, the ring box feels heavy in my pocket as I meet her halfway.

She wraps her arms around my neck, mine settles around her lower back. She smells like she always does, sweet with just enough undertones of grown and sexy. I lift her off the ground just barely, listening to how she groans into my ear.

“You look good, papi.” Raye nearly growls in my ear, causing me to stifle a groan by biting my lip.

I set her back on the ground with a squeeze, pulling back to look her over once more. “Aye chill out with that, I wanna get through our plans before you start acting up.” I laugh, pressing my lips to hers. It’s short, but full of all the emotion I’ve been holding out on by not seeing her all day.

“You’re right, my fault.” She smiles.

“Mmm but you still look fine tho’, fine as hell.” I hum, dropping my arms and sticking a hand out for her. “Come this way.”

Raye takes my hand with not a beat of hesitation. “We’re going through the court?” She asks, suddenly confused as to why I’d choose this way and not the entryway she came in with.

I brush her off, lying and telling her it’ll get us to my car faster. And then, it’s go time.

“Y’know, I was gonna ask you on a first date the night of Cam’s dinner party.” I confess. Raye nearly trips over her own feet, but I balance her before she gets the chance to fall. “You think we would’ve still been together?”

I walk her through the back door of the locker room, and she stops in her tracks. “Really?”

“Yeah. Kea told me you were seeing someone, but then you told me it wasn’t official yet. I was gonna ask you out when we were leaving.”

“I think we would’ve been.” She answers, finally picking up her feet and walking with me closer to the court. My hands sweat with anticipation and a part of me hopes she doesn’t notice. “I still would’ve found out just how much I like you.”

I nod. “Let’s say in this hypothetical scenario; I ask you out and you say yes, what would’ve happened if Julian still asked you to be his girl that night?” It’s all word salad, something to keep my mind occupied while I try to remember the monologue I’d created.

She stutters, pace just barely slowing down. “I dunno. I was still straight. Maybe things wouldn’t have turned out like this.” Raye shrugged. “Why are you asking about a hypothetical?”

We stand in front of the tunnel entrance and I don’t answer, instead, I pull back the thick black curtain and gesture my head towards the court. “C’mon.”

“Why are we—”

“Mami I love you, but please stop asking me so many questions. Go.” I laugh. My girlfriend rolls her eyes, giving me one more look before dipping behind the curtain. Her pace is slow, but she walks in and I follow behind and I nearly have to hold my hand down in order to not cop a feel of her ass.

The court lights are low, just enough to set a yellow hue over the classic purple and gold hardwood. Candles decorated the baseline, creating a walkway for her to follow until she got to her seat. The seat was illuminated by a single spotlight.

The seat where I saw her for the first time.

There, lays a bouquet full of pink and white roses and lilies scattered in between.

Raye takes one look at it all, before freezing. Her breath caught in her throat.

“Paige…” She whispered, voice full of shock and confusion.

“I know.” I say, my voice barely even there. “I want you to walk down there and take a seat for me, can you do that?” I ask softly, suddenly realizing that all my nerves were for nothing. Because in the three years I’ve been blessed to call her mine, she’s always let me know that it’s been me. Now all I have to do is ask to make it official.

The sound of her While We’re Young plays softly overhead. It’s the first song she ever wrote about me.

“I’m askin’ you about a hypothetical because this whole time, I’ve been wondering if we’d still get this far if things were different.” I start, feeling the pressure ease off my shoulders with every step. “Like what if Kea never introduced us that night?”

Raye thinks to herself for a moment. “I probably wouldn't have chosen to partner up with you at Cam’s.” She answers.

“And we wouldn’t have become close friends. You wouldn’t have caught feelings for me, and I wouldn’t get the opportunity to love you the way I do now.” I say.

Raye sits soundly in the court-side seat, clutching the bouquet in her lap and crossing one glowing leg over the other, and I swear I see her eyes glaze over. There’s something heavier there, a realization or maybe even a memory of that night in May.

“The other day, I was going through old practice videos, and I came across practice on opening day.” I step back from her, treading carefully towards the top of the arch. “And I started thinking about the play we ran.”

She lets out a laugh. “When did you have time to do all this thinking?” Raye jokes, and I laugh along with her.

“It’s easy when my girlfriend sleeps like a hibernating bear.” I responded.

Raye gestures her hand for me to continue, looking at me with wide brown eyes that I’m still obsessed with all these years later.

“The original play was for D to set a screen here.” I point to my left side at the top of the wing.

“I was gonna come off of it, handoff to Kea and she gets right to her spot for a middy. If it didn’t work out, I was trailing behind for an open three and Cam would be available in the paint.”

She listens intently, my demonstration of the play even without a ball in my hands helped too. Her basketball knowledge has drastically increased since we got together, particularly from watching film with her.

“It was gonna be the easiest way for us to break their zone. But instead they played man. So when I came off the screen, Siegrist called for a switch and McCowan was now guarding me.” I explain.

“You had a mismatch.” Raye hums.

“I had a mismatch.” I agree, continuing with my demonstration.“So instead I faked the handoff and just drove. I went for a lefty, she fouled the shit out of me, and I ended up here.”

I stand right in front of her now, a grin on my face that mirrors the one she looks up at me with, tears just barely brimming her eyes.

The song tails off and I silently applaud myself for my perfect timing.

“The very thing that led me to you was a last minute decision. God’s plan brought me to you, Raye.” My voice wavers ever so slightly, throat tightening as I realize the magnitude of the moment. “When I found out you were with Julian, I told myself—of course. Because you were smart, and breathtaking, and kind in that way that makes everyone lean in when you speak.”

Maraye laughed through her tears, squeezing the bouquet tighter in her hands.

“And I tried to be your friend,” I continued. “I was your friend. But somewhere between our third late-night phone call and the night at Waffle House when you told me about how you didn’t feel seen, something shifted. You started making room for me in your life. And I—I fell. Hard.”

My fingers tremble at the thought of reaching for the box in my pocket, but I press on. “I never thought I’d be the one. I had hoped, and prayed for it, but I didn’t think it would happen like this. But you… you surprised me. You let yourself love me. And in doing that, you changed everything.”

I pull the box out, cracking it open before sinking to my knee. And even through it all, Raye lets out a gasp. A little gasp full of everything she’s yet to say to me.

“I used to think love was supposed to be overwhelming, and I was so scared. Scared of fucking it up for you, for us.” I whisper, holding the ring between us. “But with you, it’s peaceful. It’s steady. It’s choosing each other, again and again, even on the hard days.”

A beat of silence.

“And I want to keep choosing you, Maraye. Every day, every version of you, in every season of our lives. So…” My voice wavered, thick with love. “Will you marry me?”

Maraye didn’t answer right away—sending a quick bout of anxiety to my core. But then she’s sliding off the seat, cupping my face, and kissing me so deeply it said yes a hundred different ways before the words finally came.

“Yes,” she whispered against her lips. “You know that, baby. Of-fuckin-course I’ll marry you.”

I let out a breath I didn’t even know I was holding, sliding the ring on her finger. We both laugh and cry through it, and then Raye’s kissing me again. Deeper, hand in my straightened hair as she tugged me close—candles flicker around us, and the weight of our story humming in every corner of the arena.

—

May 2029 — Los Angeles, California

The door slams harder than I intended.

No one tells you how hard planning a wedding is. They also don’t tell you how hard it is to plan a wedding while also working on finalizing an album.

I drop my bag on the floor, exhaustion running through me to the point where I can’t even bother to set it on the hook. I set my keys down, kicking off my tennis shoes and nearly falling flat on my face as I do so.

“Fuckin’ hell.” I groan, stopping dead in my tracks and taking a deep breath and counting to five. Then ten.

It doesn’t help.

The silence in the apartment kills me. It leaves me alone with the thoughts of not doing well enough, not completing enough work. Not, doing anything worth remembering.

It all weighs on me. Wedding emails. Guest list edits. The label riding me every second of the day about finishing this album. Another vendor dropping out. A migraine blooming behind my eyes. And Paige is not even home yet, which—okay, unfair to be mad about because it’s not her fault that her first three games of the season are on the road. But I missed her. Needed her.

I trudge into the bedroom, shedding clothes as I walk. Leggings hitting the floor in the hallway, Sparks hoodie falling somewhere near my vanity, bra thrown on the edge of our bed. The forest green and navy slip dress I wore to bed last night hangs over the vanity chair, and I throw it on lazily.

“Just 15 minutes.” I say to myself, slinging the comforter over my body.

I was out cold in two.

When I woke up, the light outside had changed—dipped into that lavender-blue of mid evening. The headache that had been ruining my life for the last few days had dulled but not disappeared, and my mouth tasted like sleep. Even through the groggy and heavy haze, I sit up slowly.

That’s when I heard it. Water.

It lapped gently alongside the faint clink of glass, a low hum that might’ve been music or, well, humming.

My legs swing over the edge, painted toes padding against the rug in the floor before I sleepily entered the attached bathroom.

Paige was already in the tub, hair piled in the messiest possible way at the back of her head. The curve of her shoulder dips out under the suds and gleams in the candlelight. An empty glass rests on the ledge beside her. Lavender steam curled through the room, carrying the scent of bath oils and eucalyptus. The playlist— our playlist—was mellow, that’s usual R&B with a hint of jazz.

My body naturally leans against the door frame, languidly blinking sleep from my spirit.

“Hi.” I murmur.

Paige raises her head slowly, setting her phone delicately on the floor by the tub. “Hi, baby.”

“I didn’t know you were home.”

“We landed early.” Her chain glistens against her tanned skin, diamond studs in her ears that dance whenever the light shifts. Paige’s eyes rake over my body, and suddenly I’m hyper aware of the puffiness around my eyes and the slight slump of my shoulders. “It looked like you needed the sleep. Figured I’d soak off and then make us some dinner.”

I walk over to the tub, sitting cautiously at the edge of the tub. “God, I’m so fuckin’ happy you’re here.” The sigh I let out, I didn’t even know I was holding in. Seeing her like this was like oxygen, I fucking needed it to survive.

Paige leans closer to me and I meet her halfway on instinct, holding her face with one hand. She tilts her head just right, brushing her nose with mine before locking our lips. I hum, allowing the blonde to part my lips with her tongue. She navigates my mouth like it’s her own, like she knows every nook and cranny; where to suck where to lick, and I let her.

Her hands pull out from under the water, suds sticking to the back of her hands as she runs them over my thighs. Paige sighs, kissing me harder—faster.

“Get in.” She mutters, dragging me against the ledge and closer to her. “C’mon, it’s still warm.”

I shake my head, something about being here with her and wanting to eat her alive feels more rewarding. So I angle her head in my hand, guiding her lips in the way I want them to go. It’s all teeth and tongue, with the occasional bout of spit against my chin.

Paige is messy, pulling me into her like the last week and some change of her being on the road altered her brain chemistry. “Baby, get the fuck in.” She pants, pulling back enough that I can see her low eyes and swollen lips. “Needa take all this offa you.”

I hesitate, but ultimately let her hands travel to the edge of my slip dress. She lifts the hem higher and higher until I break away to pull it off of myself. Paige doesn’t even give me a moment to shed my panties, she pulls me into the tub with her mouth pressing kisses to my cheek.

“Talk to me.” She whispers against the skin, wrapping her arms around my waist. “What’s wrong, ma?”

I brace my arms around her neck, head comfortable against the side of her face. And it’s quiet for a moment, just breathing and the sound of water moving here and there. Skin to skin.

“Nothing.” I shrug, closing my eyes. But Paige knows me, the front I’m putting on just to keep her calm. To not stress her out.

She nods. Her chin resting in the crook of my neck. “How was dress shopping?” She decides to ask. An answer builds on my tongue, then stops when I feel her fingers against the back of my thigh. She draws slow circles, her nails just barely scratching the skin.

Then I let it out, my voice low and rough either from sleep or something heavier. “It’s… I dunno. Nothing special.” Paige kisses my shoulder slowly, like she’s still figuring out whether to press further or just let me enjoy the silence. “It’s just— I’m so tired, Paige. I’m trying to be everything. Good at work, good at planning, good for you— and I’m failing.“

Paige wrapped her arms around my waist and held on tighter, almost like a lifeline. “You’re not failing. You’re the toughest woman I know, trust, you’re not failing.”

“I cried today,” my voice trails off, “because someone ate my yogurt in the mini fridge; and none of these dresses look like me.”

Paige chuckled softly, pressing her lips to my jaw. “That’s valid.”

I take a deep breath, pulling back just enough to look at her face. How her hair is damp and sticks to her neck and shoulders. The slight flush from the heat in the bathroom. And it hits me then that I really do get to marry her, the ring on my finger is not a fragment of my imagination but it’s real.

“I love you,” I whisper suddenly, voice thick. “But if one more person asks me if a damn napkin color really represents our ‘aesthetic,’ I’m eloping.”

Paige simply smiles, something amused with a hit of understanding, before she kisses me softly. “You’re allowed to feel like that, ma. I know you’re goin’ through a lot to make this work.”

“I just don’t wanna worry about a wedding and a fucking album for a few hours.”

Paige hums, trailing short kisses across my jaw and down my neck. Her hands move with precision, softly messaging my arms to my shoulders, feeling down my back and all we way down. Her hands settle on my thighs again, her fingertips toy with my panties— and suddenly I’m all hers.

“Lemme handle it.”

The water sloshes softly around us as Paige shifts in the tub, her knees brushing against mine beneath the surface. Steam curled between our mouths, and for a moment, we just looked at each other.

Paige’s eyes, heavy-lidded and warm, searched mine, through the exhaustion and stress. My face was still drawn from the day, but my gaze softened just enough. There was something raw there now. A flicker of want. Of need. I needed her.

“I missed you.” Paige sighs.

“I’m right here.” I grumble. “And I’m needy. Horny, if you will.”

She grins, letting out a laugh before pulling me in. And that’s how it starts. A gentle kiss— brushing of our lips, a deep inhale of her scent.

My fingers find her face again, holding her jaw as I kiss her again, slower this time, but with more pressure. I poured every ounce of tension into it—every tight knot I’ve spent trying and failing to unwind, every unspoken frustration, every moment I’d smiled through exhaustion. Paige took it all, desperately. She kissed me back like she was drinking me in, trying to soothe all my edges and wrinkles from the inside out.

But then all the softness and slowed movements disappeared within the blink of an eye. She was rougher, more primal. Her hands kneaded at my ass, forcing a groan to spill from my lips. It gives Paige the perfect opportunity to make my mouth her own again. She slides her tongue against mine while my hands grip at her wet hair.

Paige whimpers softly against my mouth, tilting her head to deepen it, lips parting even more for the kiss to get messier. I groan, low and quiet, as Paige’s fingers dig into my waist beneath the surface, holding me there, pulling me in like she was afraid I could drift away if she let go.

I reach under the water, tugging my panties down my legs with a fight that nearly makes me curse her out for not letting me take them off before getting in the water. Soapsuds fly over the ledge, and when I finally get them off they’re tossed onto the floor. Landing with a loud, wet plap.

“Lemme get this stress offa you, yeah? Let's make you feel good," she whispers, her voice husky with desire.

“Please.” I beg, not even caring about how desperate I sound.

I let her, leaning back, pressing my palms to the sore muscles of her legs. She trails her hands back under the water, her engagement ring cool against my skin.

Paige presses against my thighs, spreading my legs wider. Her fingertips trail up the skin and then carefully—and I really mean carefully—she brushes against my clit. I bite my lip.

She kisses her teeth, “you’re swollen, baby. It hurts huh?” Her voice is so sultry that I swear my own arousal leaks out of me like a faucet. “I gotta have you, Raye.” Paige glides her finger through my slick, muttering something about how wet I am and I make a joke about if that’s me or the water. To which she replies “nah it’s all you.”

Her finger dips inside, pushing in and out at a pace that is the perfect mix of rough and still so intimate. But I crave more. That toe curling, leg shaking stuff that she’s given me more times than not.

“You get me so wet, P.” I confirm, letting the stimulation travel from my core up into my stomach. “I—I need more, please? It’s not enough.” I start, whining and growing frustrated. Paige can sense it, of course she can sense it. Because she leans in, pressing her lips to the valley of my breasts, kissing gently like they were artifacts she wanted to preserve.

Her finger curls just slightly. “I know what you need. This pussy been mine for years, you think Ion know?” Almost as if my request pissed her off, she snatches her finger out of me. Paige looks up from my chest, licking her pink lips before grinning. “How you want it?”

I inhale slowly and ragged. “I want it hard, Paige. Just fuck me.” I cry. The soft sex is good—fuck, it’s so good—but when she gets in her zone, fucking me like she hates me, I just can’t get enough.

My hand grips her wrist, tugging her long fingers closer to my cunt.

And then she’s sliding in, two fingers this time.

I lost it.

They fit in with just enough stretch to remind me just how long it’s really been. But she’s a pro, in all meanings of the word, and gets to work right away. Paige pulls me closer again and meshes our lips. “Gotta stretch you out so my cock fits, baby. Nice and wide.” She grunts against my lips.

Paige begins to stroke her fingers faster and on instinct my hips meet her halfway. Water sloshes in the tub, falling in splashes on the floor.

“P, fuck. Fuck fuck fuck! It feels so good.” I moan. I lose control of everything, breaking the kiss as my head falls back and my nails dig into the depths of the back of her neck. “Love it when you fuck me like this.”

“Such a slut, Raye.” The blonde kisses her teeth, her free hand pushing hair out of my face. “Prettiest li’l slut f’me.”

She knows just what to say, just what to do— where to touch that makes me fall apart for her. And I think I’d rather die than to live a life where my body isn’t hers for the taking. So I spread my legs wider, enough to create room for the blonde in front of me. And she just takes it.

Takes and takes and takes.

My eyes screw shut at Paige’s words, my entire body shivering as I work harder against her fingers. The slickness between my legs only intensified, climax growing and building inside me with every passing second. I could barely manage coherent thoughts, let alone words. But I do just enough to murmur, “needed you, baby. Such a sl—ut for you.”

Paige smiles at that, deciding to suck across my skin. She leaves marks behind, and normally I’d find something to say about it but right now I don’t care. I let her mark me up like I'm property. My hips roll simultaneously, taking what her fingers do to me.

“ ‘M gonna fuck you stupid after this. You want that?” She asks. Her mouth moves lower against my skin, over my breasts and to my nipple that peaks out over the surface. Her arm wraps around my hips as she pulls me closer.

Paige encloses my nipple with her mouth. Plump lips over the pebbled skin and tongue running over the bud. It’s as if it’s natural to her. Licking and sucking to the point I’m wishing it was my clit in her mouth.

My eyes flutter closed, body melting into Paige's touch. I could feel the tension in my muscles beginning to ease; being replaced by a growing heat in the pit of my stomach.

"Paige," I gasp, hips moving in time with Paige's strokes. "I’m close."

"I know, love," she murmured against my tit. "Just needed a good fuck? I know you missed me, ain’t you?"

I nod, helpless as my release comes in like a wave. My legs tremble and her name falls from my lips like a sin. “So bad, Paige! Shit!”

Paige held me tight, her fingers continuing to stroke inside me gently as I rode out the pleasure. "That's it, baby," she murmured. "Just feel it. Gimme that shit, ma. You're so fucking beautiful when you cum."

My body relaxes. Breaths fall from my lips and Paige presses kisses to my chest. My cunt throbs almost uncontrollably; sore but still so fucking needy. And she feels it.

“C’mon. I think you got a few more in you.”

—

“Daddy…” I hiccup, chest heaving from the aftermaths of three orgasms. Maybe four, but between this one and the one before that, I think I could’ve passed out. Paige buried her tongue inside me just after I regained consciousness from her fingers. Then the strap came out and somewhere along the way everything became a blur.

Sweat sticks to the hollow between her collarbones, and a drip trails down the valley of her breasts. It’s cinematic, really. Her chain hangs around her neck, engagement ring gleaming on her finger when she uses that hand to rub her chin.

She looks at me in disbelief, as if I’m not from this Earth. It sets my soul on fire.

The strap hangs deliciously from her hips, harness snug and a dildo her skin tone just resting between us. My slick covers it, and now that I’m seeing it in the light of our bedroom, a blush finds its way to every surface of skin.

The sheets are wet, and I can’t tell if it’s from me or the water that literally clung to us in the sex-drunk endeavor to get to the bed.

“Shhh shhh. Just gimme one more. I know you got one more.” She coos. She holds the sticky base in her hands, tapping the tip of the strap against my swollen and overstimulated cunt.

A rush of pleasure runs through my body, and she doesn’t stop. Tapping my clit, running it over my folds, slipping inside just an inch and then pulling out. Over and over again like the reaction she gets from me is better than anything else she’s ever experienced in her life.

“Tell me you can take it.”

I gasp. “I can take it, fuck, I can take it. Just— please, daddy.” I beg. My hand snakes behind her head, tugging her down to my level. Our foreheads touch, as if she’s talking to me telepathically. “Inside, baby.”

Paige captures my lips in a deep kiss as she slowly pushes into me. I can’t even gasp, I just groan. Heavy and thick with the pleasure she’s engraved into my brain for the last some hours. Even then, my cunt stretches again to accommodate Paige's cock.

The blonde doesn’t wait. Doesn’t falter or waver. She works fast, snapping her hips into mine while I suck sloppily on her tongue. Paige breaks the kiss, her eyes locked onto mine as my body moves under her. My tits bounce in her face, hands attempting to figure out where to grip and scratch.

"Fuck, you feel so good," Paige groans, her voice filled with pleasure. "So fuckin’ tight and wet. Yo’ shit just creaming for me, Raye. Damn." She says it like it’s unbelievable, and honestly, it is. It’s unbelievable how almost four years in she still can fuck me like I’ve never been fucked before. How after spreading me open and licking me clean, she’s still drawing come out of my cunt.

My back arches into her, eyes rolling into the depths of my head. “You—mmph—‘re deep as fuck, oh my God, Paige.” It comes as a near squeak. Paige keeps going.

“Mhmm. Deep in that shit. Deep in my pussy.” She fucks me like I’m a toy. Rutting her hips inside and out like she’d die if she stopped.

My hand grips the sheets, the other scratching down her arm. Paige’s thrusts become even deeper and more forceful. The sound of our bodies slapping together filled the room, a primal symphony of love and fucking desire.

Her hands grip my hips, her fingers digging into my flesh as she slammed into me.

My body was on fire, heavily over stimulated from however many times she’s made me come and the pleasure only building with each thrust. I could feel the orgasm coiling in my stomach, ready to explode. "Daddy," I gasp, voice filled with desperation. My hand trails low, pressing against her abdomen. I don’t know if I’m pushing her away or trying to draw her closer. But I do know I don’t want her to stop. "Don’t stop, don’t stop! Fuck!”

“Baby move your hand.” Paige orders. I barely watch her bite her lip, something about the way my eyes roll stop me from seeing it all. My jaw falls slack, back arching even further.

“Gonna—”

“Raye, I’m not playin’. Move.” She says again, pushing my hand off to the side and getting back to her pace. Thrusting hard, so hard that the headboard bangs deliciously against the wall. “Gonna cum all on my shit, y’hear me? Cum with me, same time.”

I nod.

“Say it.”

“Yes! Yes, daddy I’ll cum on—awwww fuck!” I moan, legs trembling around her hips.

Paige leans down, her forehead pressing against mine again. "Cum for me, baby," she commanded, her voice harsh with desire. "Cum all over my cock."

With a cry, my body convulsed, my orgasm completely consuming me. Paige held on tightly, her thrusts becoming erratic herself as she chased her own release. With a final, deep thrust, Paige groaned, her body shuddering over mine as she came.

We lay there for a moment, our bodies slick with sweat, breaths coming in ragged gasps. Paige slowly pulled out, a satisfied smile on her face as she looked at the mess between my thighs. The come dripping from my folds and coating the strap. She unstrapped the harness and tossed it aside, then almost animated, she collapsed soundly against my chest.

We fit perfectly, like a puzzle.

I run my fingers through her wet hair, scratching delicately at her scalp and Paige groans.

“Baby?”

“Yes, love?” I responded.

Paige sits up, resting her chin on my chest. I look into her blue eyes, watching them go from dark to light all over again. She looks at me with a kind of softness that makes my heart swell.

“We’ll get your dress designed.” She starts. “I want this wedding to be perfect, and it’s perfect as long as you’re happy.” She breathes, pressing a kiss to my sternum.

“But, Paige—”

“We’ll wait. However long it takes for me to give 110% to helping you out. You’ll have the dress of your dreams, the wedding of your dreams; big or small, I don’t care. I’ll do whatever. I—I just can’t watch you stress yourself like this. Okay?”

Her words settle in the air. And when she puts it like that, it’s impossible for me to say anything other than okay.

—

April 2030 — La Jolla Cove, California

The taste of champagne and a bit of Don Julio still lingered in my mouth. Alongside the taste of cake, and of course, the strawberry flavored lip gloss of my wife.

I still haven’t wrapped my head around that title.

The wedding was perfect. The location felt like a dream, and I truly couldn’t have picked a better woman to marry, than Maraye.

She wore this gown that clung to her like it had been stitched with by hand just for her body: the corseted bodice sculpted to her curves, every bead and crystal catching the light like tiny stars. The intricate pattern radiated from her waist like a burst of light, tapering down into that full, ethereal skirt. It shimmered—better yet, it glowed—with every step she took, moving like water and starlight all at once.

Her hair had been straightened and pulled into an updo that still managed to perfectly frame her face. Her skin glistened against the pure white silk.

I was left at a loss for words.

We took photos. The white of her dress sat beautifully against the pure black of my suit and the forest green of our wedding party.

She read vows that made me boohoo cry at the altar and I slid a wedding ring on her finger then audibly made her gasp in front of all our guests.

But I loved it because it was her.

When we got to the reception though, all decorum was off the table. We’d changed into something more freeing— comfortable— and drank and danced and kissed like nobody was around but us. Kaylee gave a speech, so did my dad, and Cassie took the cake when she started an emotional spiel about how lucky she felt to have watched our journey from the beginning.

KK controlled the dance floor, Cameron and Sydel drank until their livers almost gave out, Destin sang, and the list really just went on.

Now, the reception hall was nearly empty.

Our wedding planner, hired after I realized Raye was never going to stop stressing herself out, talks to the manager of the event center. Some conversation I can’t really care too much about when my wife is standing ten feet away in the most casual silk dress.

The warm hum of the string lights still glowed above the dance floor, flickering like stars over a room filled with the sweet aftermath of celebration. Half-empty glasses lounge on tables, rose petals strewn here and there, and the lingering scent of jasmine, sweat, and laughter.

I leaned against one of the support beams, barefoot and flushed, my shirt slightly unbuttoned at the collar now, bouquet ribbon tied loosely around her wrist. My wedding band rests on my finger.

It was perfect for me, not too much but still not too little. Raye would rather die than give me a mediocre gift. It’s a thin band, diamonds sitting soundly against the metal— and the night we met, etched somewhere on the inside.

I watched as Maraye stepped back onto the dance floor, her reception dress gathered slightly in her hands to keep from dragging. Her curls were wild, makeup smudged from hours of joy, but my eyes burned her into memory—steady, sultry.

I look back at our planner, noticing that we have at least five minutes to ourselves before needing to get going.

I approach her slowly, feet padding softly until I reach her with an open palm. She looked up at me with wide eyes, like I was a myth, or something of the sort. “I wanna show you something.” I murmur.

She doesn’t say anything. She just slips her hand in mine, soft almond shaped nails just barely gazing at my palm.

We walked hand in hand, and I let my mind travel to the first time she held mine. On the way to our first date, I remember how sweaty my hand had gotten, the nerves that had accumulated. And still, to this day, my hand gets just as sweaty and I get just as nervous.

We walk into a secluded room. Pictures of us with family and friends flashing by on tall screens. It’s dark except for the light that the pictures let off.

Maraye called this place “memory lane.” A place for everyone to stop and look at how far we’ve come. From fleeting glances and a scandalous relationship to a written-in-stone marriage.

A song plays softly, our song.

The soft strum of bass fills the room and Raye, the music connoisseur that she is, picks up on it immediately. 1+1. Beyoncé.

She turns to me slowly with a grin. “I was wondering why they didn’t play our song tonight.”

“It’s my little surprise.” I explain. I pull her in, settling her arms on my shoulders as I hold her hips. Not rough, just soft enough to keep her grounded with me.

Our bodies pressed together, warm and close, and we began to sway—slow, intimate. The kind of dance that wasn’t about the steps or knowing what the hell we were doing, only the pull between us.

“I’ve been waiting all night for this part,” Maraye murmured against my ear. “No more eyes. No more interruptions.”

“No tías asking us to leave room for Jesus.” I add on and she laughs. Full and wholehearted. My eyes flutter shut as her hands slid over the expanse of my upper back—then back up, until they were toying with the flyaways at the back of my neck.

Raye sang softly with the lyrics, her mouth brushing my temple, her breath hot and close.

“I don’t know much about guns, but I… I’ve been shot by you.”

I trembled, just a little. Then, my face turned and met her lips in a slow, indulgent kiss—one that didn’t ask permission, one that said we made it. That said take me home and never let me go. It deepened, just enough, perfect for dancing in a reception hall with my wife.

“Looks like the whole world belongs to you with that kiss,” she teased.

I let my fingers trail over her jaw, whispering softly, “pretty sure it does.”

There was no rush. Just my fingertips tracing her collarbones, the weight of wedding rings brushing against bare skin, and the burn of want simmering under the sweetness of love.

“You’re driving me crazy singing in my ear like that.” I admit, voice dipping a little lower now, fingers slipping under the loose strap of Maraye’s dress. “Gotta give me a private concert when we get to Bali.”

She smirked, a full face smirk that looked too close to my one. But I guess that’s what happens when you spend all this time with someone. “I dunno if there’ll be enough time for that between…you know.”

Then she shifted closer, pressing our bodies tight, and began to sing again—“Make love to me… when the world’s at war… pull me in close…”—just for me. Her lips gaze my skin, each note sinking deeper than the last.

“I love you so much.” I say, words trailing off with the music.

“I love you too, Paige.” And I don’t let myself believe otherwise for a single second.

#sierrale8ne #kalena’s works ୧ ‧₊˚ 🍵 ⋅#paige bueckers #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x oc #uconn wbb #la sparks #lesbian #my fic #40 days and 40 nights

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