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Greta laces up her shoes, looking up briefly to take in the rest of the locker room.
The Peaches are laughing and slapping each other's asses with towels, chasing one another with dirty socks and unlady-like behaviors. There’s a buzzing energy in the changing room.
The energy of a team that knows they have already won, even before playing the game.
Because this is one of those games where, win or lose, they have practiced so hard and bonded so much that the rest is… Well, gravy.
After the amazing victories against the Comets in Kenosha, there’s a thrill of pride and excitement that pervades all of them.
Greta is proud of this team, of every single one of them.
She can see them changing, opening up and taking flight.
Or… Ripen , being Peaches and all.
She knows she’s changing as well.
Her eyes find the small frame of Carson’s body, hunched over to tie her own shoes, baseball cap fixed backwards over her head.
As if she was called by name, Carson looks up, frowning until her eyes meet Greta’s.
Carson grins at her, mischievous and proud, and Greta knows she’s probably thinking of Kenosha as well.
Not the games, of course, but something just equally exciting.
Carson looks around briefly before standing up to casually stroll up to where Greta is standing.
“You look happy.” Greta muses. “Anything on your mind?”
“Oh, you know.” Carson shrugs, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, hands clasped behind her back. “One or two things.”
“Mhm. Are those things going to distract you from the game today, Coach?”
Greta can see Carson’s eyes darken at the nickname, and she can’t help licking her lips at the thought of what it must be doing to her.
Carson’s jaw sets, and there’s a strange type of desire that glazes her eyes, before is shooed away by Carson’s light shake of her head.
“They… Will not.”
Greta’s lips fall open just slightly.
She’s seen some of that light in Carson’s eyes before. In Kenosha, too, when she’d taken her and pressed her into bed as soon as they’d arrived.
A desire to consume, to gather control, to take charge.
Greta would be lying if she said it didn’t do things to her.
Gorgeous things.
But Carson blinks and exhales, and every trace of it is ridden from her eyes and her body. Greta didn’t notice before, but she does now. There’s a new tension in Carson’s shoulders, and her smile is sincere but distracted.
Greta wants to take her by the hand and pull her closer, ask her what is going through her mind, but Sarge walks into the changing room to warn them of the five minutes mark, and Carson steps away with a smile to rally the troops.
“Alright, Peaches!”
Greta steps in line with the rest of the team almost automatically, and there is heat pooling at the base of her stomach at the thought of how much she actually enjoys taking orders from Carson Shaw.
The game goes wonderfully, if not better than that.
The Peaches absolutely destroy the Comets, scoring two home runs within the first three innings. Carson slams one of them past the outfield, and Greta runs home then waits for her there to welcome her in her arms when she gets there.
Carson throws herself at her and Greta couldn’t care less than the world is watching, not when Carson is hanging with her arms around her neck and a victorious laughter in her ear.
From the outside, they look like two teammates celebrating.
No one will ever hear the soft: “I’m so proud of you.” that Greta whispers in Carson’s ear, nor the emotion-filled gasp she gets in response.
The Peaches are already screaming and singing in the locker room when Greta walks in, and Jo hollers something about stopping at the store to buy extra booze to celebrate.
Greta shakes her head, lovingly, watching as some of the Peaches forfeit taking a shower in favor of leaving with Joey to go get absolutely shitfaced.
It is the day before the weekend after all, they don’t have a game for another half a week.
Greta calmly collects her things, choosing to sit at the bench instead and wait.
Jess and Lupe, the last two to leave the lockers, quickly check in with her.
Greta just shrugs and says something about waiting for Beverly to talk about her date with Vernon from a few weeks prior, and the two wave their goodbyes.
The locker room is finally quiet, and Greta leans back against one of the poles as she waits.
Luckily she doesn’t have to do so for long, because Carson finally strolls through the doors with an exhausted smile on her face, and Greta loves seeing the expression of pure surprise that paints itself on her features when she sees her.
“You didn’t have to wait for me.” Carson says, and there’s a clear question in her statement. “Journalists can be really… Intense.”
“Oh, the drags of being a famous Coach.” Greta teases, standing slowly to meet Carson in the middle of the room.
“I don’t know about famous.” she counters, a small smile dancing on her lips. It makes her dimple appear, and Greta loves it.
“Not all farm girls can successfully become Coaches in the All-American League.” Greta shrugs, barely containing a laugh at the way Carson rolls her eyes.
“Alright, now.” she mutters.
Greta throws a brief glance over Carson’s shoulder.
“Where’s Sarge?”
Carson’s smile falters for a moment, her eyes darkening as she catches what Greta is hinting at.
“She left already. Had to stop at the pharmacy.” Carson manages to say, voice lowering almost imperceptibly. “Stadium’s empty.”
Greta slowly licks her lips, then, not missing the way Carson’s eyes follow the movement.
There it is again, that dark cloud, that intensity in her gaze.
It sets Greta on fire .
“Carson.” she murmurs, her voice sounding already wrecked. “Do you feel like celebrating, peach?”
Carson bites her lip, eyes moving upwards to meet Greta’s.
“Here?” she asks, slowly. Hopeful, and more than a little turned on already.
It’s enough for Greta.
She grabs Carson’s wrist and drags her with her behind the partition wall, the one separating the showers and the locker room proper.
As soon as they’re out of view, she backs into the partition wall and pulls Carson to her, her mouth already craving the catcher’s.
And Carson obliges, eagerly, kissing her with urgency and enthusiasm, her hands roaming all over Greta’s body.
Carson’s fingers grip her ass from below the skirt roughly, biting on Greta’s lower lip at the same time, and Greta can’t help the moan that escapes her throat.
But as her body lights up and more heat pools between her legs, Carson takes half a step back.
“Sorry. Was that… That was so rough, I’m…”
She trails off, looking at Greta with a horrified expression.
Greta draws her tongue where Carson bit her, trying to figure out the better way to explain to Carson how desperately she wants her to press her against that wall and fuck her senselessly.
“Sweetface.” Greta murmurs, fingers going to pop the top button of her uniform. “I don’t know who or what happened to you that made you think you are not allowed to take charge.”
Another button.
“I do have a couple of ideas, because I was told the same things growing up.”
With quick maneuvers, she slides her hands under her skirt to drag the red shorts down her long legs, stepping out of them.
Greta revels in the way Carson looks at her, then. In the hungry and incredulous expression she has painted on her face.
“But I want you to take charge.”
Carson’s mouth opens slightly. Greta drags her fingers over her throat, grabbing her in a way that forces Carson to tilt her head up.
“I want you to fuck me, darling.” she whispers on her lips, tongue sweeping out to trace the shape of Carson’s mouth. She can almost taste her gasp of surprise. “As roughly as you please.”
Carson releases a choked out breath, and Greta nearly yells out in victory when the smaller woman takes a step forward and presses her against the partition wall.
“What if I hurt you?” Carson asks, timidly. Still holding back, still holding back.
Greta’s hand moves away from her throat to gently caress the side of Carson’s face.
“Well.” She murmurs, noticing the way Carson’s eyes are darkening once more in the process. “What if pain turns me on?”
She doesn’t know if it’s her words or the wink she accompanies them with, but Carson groans then, her hands gripping Greta’s waist with force.
“ Fuck , Greta…” Carson lets out through gritted teeth.
“I can see it.” Greta whispers, honestly. “The way you’re holding back. I want you to take what you wish from me.”
Carson is visibly straining to maintain control, even as her hands begin roaming north, fingers slipping in the opening left from where Greta has unbuttoned the uniform.
“Are you…?”
Greta wants to groan. She wants to grab Carson’s hand and stick it under her skirt so that she can see just how sure she is.
But she knows Carson has to take that step for herself.
It’s her own liberation, her own freedom. She has to take it for herself and do it, and Greta can’t do that for her.
“Yes.” she manages to say. And then, before she can hold herself back: “Carson, please .”
Carson presses against her in a bruising kiss, hands hastily moving fabric aside, and Greta feels so wet she can’t believe she’s managed to resist this long.
But Carson doesn’t make her wait more than that.
Her calloused hands drag the girdles aside and her fingers immediately press on Greta’s sex.
Greta can’t contain the loud moan, and she is grateful for the empty stadium because she is sure she won’t be able to be much quieter than that.
Carson, however, seems to have different plans.
While the fingers of one hand slowly caress Greta’s opening, getting her to spread apart under her touch, Carson presses her other palm over her mouth.
Greta’s eyes widen, and Carson doesn’t have to ask whether the gesture is okay or not, because Greta feels more wetness going to pool over Carson’s fingers.
“You really like this, don’t you…?” Carson asks, almost surprised, but with a gloating sense of satisfaction.
Greta wants to wipe that smirk off her face, but she can’t find it in herself to move.
“Hold on to something, Gill.” Carson murmurs, and Greta doesn’t know if it’s the slightly commanding tone she has, or the fingers that are still taunting her opening without dipping inside, but she finds herself obeying to the request.
She reaches up and backwards, twisting her arm so she can grab a hold of the top side of the partition wall.
“Good girl.” Carson whispers.
Greta’s knees feel like they might give in at any moment, and she moans slightly against Carson’s palm at the words.
Carson’s eyes widen just a bit in realization, and Greta wants to cuss, she wants to take it all back, she wants to flip their positions and hide that embarrassing vulnerability between Carson’s legs, she wants to-
“You are so good , Greta.” Carson says again, stroking her gently with her fingers, and Greta’s eyes roll back in her head.
“Fuck.” Carson groans, suspicions confirmed.
Greta wasn’t even aware she liked being praised until Carson even said anything, but God damns her, she wants to keep hearing it.
Greta bucks her hips forward, her free hand going to cup the back of Carson’s head.
“You are so nice and open for me.” Carson whispers. There’s hesitation behind her words, almost as if she’s trying out what she can or cannot say, but Greta drinks it all in, every thing that comes out of Carson’s mouth lighting her on fire.
She nods, whimpering slightly behind Carson’s palm, and cants her hips forward once more.
She does feel incredibly open, and she wants more. She wants Carson…
Carson spreads her apart, and then Greta’s vision goes completely white as Carson digs into her with three fingers, curling up inside of her and eagerly rubbing at her walls.
Greta can feel the suffocated cry of pleasure that leaves her, dampened by Carson’s palm still on her mouth.
“Fuck, Greta…” Carson murmurs, her eyes searching for every reaction on Greta’s face. “You are so good. So good for me.”
Greta leans back fully against the wall, and Carson’s hand finally slips away from her lips, most likely leaving a trail of red marks. Carson’s fingers grab Greta’s chin and drag her forward, and Greta moans loudly into Carson’s mouth when she kisses her.
She cants her hips forward, Carson pressing her against the wall as she fucks her, adding one finger when Greta’s wetness becomes even more prominent.
For an absurd, ethereal moment the only sounds that can be heard in the locker room are the lewd moans Greta is emitting, and the wet sliding of Carson’s fingers in her pussy.
“C-Carson…” she manages to let out, gripping the top of the partition wall with all her strength. Her knees are about to give in, and she isn’t sure she is going to be able to resist much longer.
“You’re doing amazing, Greta.” Carson whispers, pressing hot, open mouthed kisses on her neck. “But you’re not going to let go until I tell you to.”
Greta blinks, her heart nearly jumping out of her chest at the words.
“Carson?” she repeats, groaning when Carson’s fingers curl inside of her once more.
“You wanted me to take charge.” Carson murmurs, her tongue drawing patterns over her lips. She takes Greta’s lower lip between her teeth and bites down slowly on it.
The pain shoots through Greta’s body like lightning, and she feels herself clenching on Carson’s fingers.
“Unless you changed your mind?” There’s an honest worry in her words, and even if Greta wasn’t enjoying herself she doubts she’d have any strength to go back to her words.
But she is enjoying herself. More than she has in a really long time.
She loves being like clay in Carson’s hands. She trusts Carson Shaw and she loves being able to give herself to her so fully.
“No.” she says immediately, a grin spreading on her face as she closes her eyes at another wave of pleasure. “I haven’t. You can do what you wish to me.”
Carson hums, and even without seeing her, Greta knows she’s smiling.
“Then hold on for me, gorgeous.” Carson murmurs.
Her free hand roams downwards, slipping under Greta’s skirt to find her ass. Nails digging into skin, Carson grabs her thigh and lifts her leg.
Greta immediately wraps it around Carson’s waist, adjusting to find a new balance.
As soon as they do, Carson’s free hand comes back to wrap itself around Greta’s throat.
Greta lets out a choked moan at the gesture.
“Okay?” Carson asks again.
Greta nods, frantically.
“Carson.” she pleads.
Carson smiles at her, kissing her softly, almost as a reminder that what they’re doing isn’t just sex.
As if Greta could forget how Carson Shaw makes her feel.
As they’re kissing, Carson begins moving again. The movements become sharp and deep almost immediately, and Carson’s fingers around her throat get tighter.
Greta’s hips move on their own accord, her heel digging on Carson’s ass to keep her body pressed to hers.
Carson, having managed to open just the very top of Greta’s uniform, bites down on the soft expanse of her breasts, sucking and licking and leaving bruising marks of her presence.
Carson uses the weight of her own body to slam into Greta, her fingers opening and stretching her out in a way that Greta didn’t know was possible.
Her moans are choked by the hand around her throat, tight enough to silence her cries of pleasure but not enough to cut the airflow.
Greta feels her orgasm building, her whole body begging for release.
In the haze of it, she wishes she could feel Carson’s warm, naked body on hers. She wishes she could hold on to her, leave marks on her skin the way Carson’s lips are doing on her own body.
Greta wants to scream, she wants to let go, but she knows she wants to be good.
She’s never wanted to be good for anyone, but for Carson… Oh, for this woman, Greta wants to do many things.
“You’re doing so well, peach.” Carson murmurs, her fingers digging deep into Greta, and Greta whimpers.
“So wet, and so open for me.”
Carson’s hold on her throat is firm, and Greta’s lips fall open, dry and wanting, and Carson has to halt her movements for just a moment so she can kiss her.
“Do you want to cum for me?” Carson asks, then, and Greta nods, eagerly.
Carson smiles, lovingly, adoringly.
“You should do that, then.”
As she says that, she angles her wrist so that her palm can press hard on Greta’s clit, and Greta’s insides light on fire.
She lets go, exploding with her pleasure, holding herself with one hand on the partition wall and one on Carson’s shoulder.
She is unsure whether her sounds are too loud or not loud at all. Her vision goes white for a long moment and Greta revels in the orgasm, in the way Carson’s fingers keep digging into her throughout each wave.
Carson holds her, finally letting go of her throat to wrap her arm around her waist to hold her up.
“Carson…” Greta whispers, trusting her to keep her standing, to keep her safe.
Carson hums, pressing a small kiss on the side of her head.
“My Greta…” Carson murmurs, and Greta’s heart somersaults.
Hers.
Oh, how she wishes that were true.
“My darling.” she whispers back, nuzzling into Carson’s neck.
And it doesn’t matter that they just secretly fucked in the locker room of a baseball stadium. It doesn’t matter that a lot of vulnerabilities have just come out from both of them, things that will need to be discussed. It doesn’t matter that Carson’s fingers are still buried inside of her.
Greta wants to lock this moment into a photograph. She wants to freeze it in time, wrap it carefully between the pages of a book, and carry it with her forever.
“Was that… Was that okay?” Carson questions after a while, and Greta forces herself to lean back.
She grabs Carson’s face with gentle fingers.
“It was truly, beyond perfect.” she murmurs. “You are quite the quick learner.”
Carson blushes then, grinning.
“Oh, well. You know. Good teacher and all that.”
Greta chuckles and shakes her head.
“No, this was all you. Take it, Carson.”
Carson shrugs one shoulder, leaning up to kiss her again.
Greta wants to fight, she wants to tell her just how amazing she is, but she melts in the kiss instead.
A kiss that slows down time, a kiss that seems to light up another fire.
Carson licks into her mouth, and she wiggles the fingers that are still buried inside of Greta, making her gasp.
“I think…” Carson murmurs on her lips, eyes darkening once more. “I think you might want to sit now.”
Greta is pretty sure her knees give up right there and then.