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“Fuck, god damn it,” she swore as she jammed her middle finger in her mouth, the sickly sweet drop of blood making her wince.
She examined it for a moment, eyes darting to and from the road as she took in the bead of liquid gathering under her fingernail, a battle wound from her recent attack on the radio.
Halloween was coming up. She fucking hated Halloween.
She hated the tacky cobwebs and the dumb decorations and the teens drinking in the cemetery just stirring up more work for her, and she especially hated the stupid fucking songs on the radio about witches and magic and weird roads and broomsticks.
The blood spread under the white crescent of her nail and she watched it slowly creep across, squeezing the tip of her finger gently until her whole nail bed was coloured red. A sustained beep brought her back to herself and she looked up to see the traffic light had turned green, so she flipped the asshole behind her off with a bloody nail that she liked to believe made it symbolic. He sped past her in retaliation, nearly clipping her, and she considered pulling him over before she realised she actually didn’t fucking care.
She hated this fucking neighbourhood.
Five minutes of driving in complete silence later and she was reversing into the driveway in case she needed to make a quick escape. She planted her head on her steering wheel for just a moment to gather her thoughts, run through the game plan. She considered just laying on the horn but knew that her neighbours would get pissy - fucking Mrs Hart - and when her neighbours get pissy Agatha liked to get pissy back, and then Nicky gets upset and she wins again.
Get in, get Nicky, get out. No bullshit, no arguing, no time wasted. Just get the kid.
She groaned her way out of the car, slamming the door and fumbling the keys into her jeans pocket as she made her way down the path. She felt something crumple under her foot and looked down to see a bruised cluster of blue flowers peeking out from under her boots. God, it was the damn hyacinths. She froze and looked up, trying to catch a glimpse of a curtain moving or a pair of eyes through a window that would give her location away.
Maybe she got away with it, she thought, as she knocked the crushed flowers to the side of the garden bed. She definitely didn’t get away with it.
She rapped on the door and then moved a safe distance away, wincing slightly like when it would yank her tooth out when opened. Agatha chastised herself for being such a damn idiot about it. She was a grown woman, coming to collect her son from her ex’s house. She wasn’t going to war, for God’s sake.
She heard movement behind the door, but it didn’t open.
The game had started, clearly, and Agatha was already behind.
She lifted her hand to knock again, but the door opened at that moment, and there she was.
Her ex-wife, sleeves rolled up past her elbows and a distinctly untasteful number of buttons undone on her white dress shirt, and an apron round her waist that was hiding what she personally knew to be a fantastically fitting pair of slacks.
Fuck.
“Rio.”
“Hi, sweetheart,” she purred, and then pranced back into the kitchen, leaving Agatha to follow her.
Fuck.
“Nicky?” she called up the stairs as she searched for his backpack. Maybe she could shove it in the car and wait in there. It wasn’t hiding, per se, more of a… tactical retreat. She roller her eyes at herself. Not war.
“Where’s his shit, Rio?” she yelled in the direction of her ex-wife, but was only met with the sound of metal clanging. She sighed, and pulled her boots off, before following her further into the house.
“Did you say something?” Rio asked, stirring a pot with a wooden spoon, which didn’t explain the clanging at all. Her eyes sparkled with something suspiciously like mischief, and Agatha suspected was all a rouse to get her in the kitchen in the first place.
“Where’s his bag? Shoes? Anything?”
“Oh, you didn’t get my message?”
“What message?” She pulled her phone out of her pocket. “I don’t have a message from you.”
“How odd, I could have sworn I sent one earlier…” She raised the wooden spoon in the air and took a bite, exhaling with a slight moan. “Nicky isn’t here.”
“What the fuck do you mean he’s not here?”
“He’s staying over at Eddie’s tonight. Something about a Halloween movie marathon. I said it would be fine for you to pick him up on Saturday instead, and drop him back Monday or Tuesday.” She brought the wooden spoon over. “Here, taste this,” she said, lifting what Agatha could now see was the rice to her mouth.
She took a bite, and her eyes fluttered shut out of habit. God, could that woman cook. When she opened them, Rio was staring back at her, grin not even half hidden as she took in her reaction. She turned away, and Agatha remembered what she’d said moments before.
“And you didn’t think this was worth a call? You don’t think I have better things to do than make an hour round trip on a Friday night?”
“Not really, no,” Rio shrugged, and Agatha ran a hand through her hair, groaning.
“Jesus Christ, Rio,” she made to turn and go, but Rio had already beaten her to it, standing in the doorway.
“Are you leaving?”
“Yes, I’m leaving.”
“Gonna trample my hyacinths some more?” The shorter woman quirked an eyebrow.
“No, I-” she sighed, avoid her eyes. How had she even seen that? “Okay, sorry. But your freakishly green thumbs mean that your path is mostly flowers.”
“I seem to remember you loving my thumbs.”
“Don’t be crass,” she muttered, rolling her eyes, but Rio just widened hers mockingly.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
Agatha was aware of how close they were. She made a move to pass her, but Rio shifted her weight so she couldn’t slip by.
“Rio,” she tried.
“Agatha,” was all she received, teasing. “Stay for dinner.”
“No.”
Rio hummed, a smile playing at her lips. Agatha was losing the game, exceptionally quickly.
“I made arroz con gandules.”
“I’m still leaving.”
“Aw, Aggie. Come on. I fried plantains too.”
“Don’t call me that,” she warned, but Rio just flashed her a sarcastic look. She liked to think she could win this particular battle, but the corner of Rio’s mouth quirked up and she knew it was a lost cause. She couldn’t say no to her. She never could, really. “Fine. And then I’m going, okay?”
“Sure. Whatever you say,” Rio responded, before twirling back around to the stove to plate the food.
As she moved into the dining room, she saw two places set, and her favourite candle burning on the shelf. For just a second, she closed her eyes. Breathed in the scent of pine and oud. Remembered what it was like to come home to this every day, to wet her sleeves doing the dishes as Rio watered the garden in the evening. Laughter as she sucked air in between her teeth, eyes watering from the sancocho, Nicky pointing and giggling - he may have come out of her, but he had his Mom’s tastebuds.
“You like it?” Rio’s voice broke her out of her reminiscing. She turned to see her bringing the plates in, nodding towards the candle. “Found it at the back of the cupboard,” she said, nodding towards the candle.
Agatha didn’t reply, pulling out a chair instead and sitting, tucking one leg under the other. She bumped her knee on the beam under the table - fuck, she forgot it was at the perfect height to do that. Rio turned to look at her, a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes playing on her lips. Agatha knew she was remembering too, knew that everything she did to get to on her nerves affected her just as much.
She took a bite of the rice and sighed. God, she missed this. Agatha could get by well enough but it was no secret that her wife was the real chef. Ex-wife. Fuck.
“It’s good,” she complimented, taking a sip of the red wine Rio had brought in.
“Thanks. I went to the market for the herbs.”
Agatha’s jaw tensed before spooning more rice into her mouth, metal scraping along the bottom of the plate with a screech that made them both wince.
“Sorry,” she mumbled, mouth full. That’s twice she’s apologised now. Rio was definitely winning.
She remembered Wednesday mornings at the market together, Nicky strapped to her chest as Rio twirled around the stalls, fingers darting towards local honey and vegetables wrapped in paper. Or later, with one of those toddler harnesses on - Agatha thought they were odd before she was a mom, before she realised how fast those little legs were - adults cooing over how sweet he was, offering him sips of freshly pressed juice and filling his chubby hands with berries he gripped too tightly. Him pressing mushy raspberries to his moms’ mouths, them laughing and opening up because they’d do anything for him.
Maybe neither of them were winning.
They ate in silence for a moment longer, the good food and wine doing nothing to ease the tension in the room.
“How is he?”
Rio hummed, taking a sip of wine before wiping the corner of her mouth with her index finger. “He’s good. Seeing a lot of Eddie recently. It’s nice, he’s getting out the house.”
Agatha grumbled noncommittally, eyes rolling slightly of their own accord.
“What, you don’t think it’s nice?”
“Of course I think it’s nice.”
“You don’t sound like you think it’s nice, Aggie.”
She chose to ignore the nickname. “They’re both too young. They’re fifteen, they should be focusing on school,” she nearly winced as she said it, knowing it sounded half-hearted.
“You don’t give a shit about school,” her ex-wife scoffed.
“I’m not sure about that kid, Rio,” she mumbled, scraping the last mouthfuls onto her fork.
“You haven’t even tried to get to know him. He’s nice, he’s good for Nicky. He’s brought him out of his shell after… after last year.”
“I have to go,” Agatha muttered, standing abruptly whilst draining the rest of her wine before grabbing her dish to take it to the kitchen. She stood in front of the dishwasher, contemplating loading it before stacking the dishes on top of the counter instead. Not her house, not her problem.
When she turned, Rio was standing in the doorway, blocking her as she did before they ate.
“You don’t have to leave.”
“Yes, I do,” she said, moving to walk past her, Rio reaching out to grab her right hand. “Ow, shit,” she swore, pain flaring up through her palm as one of the shorter woman’s rings slid under the same nail she jammed into the radio earlier.
She lifted her hand instinctively, red spreading out under her already stained fingernail.
Before she knew it, soft, cool hands had enveloped her own, lifting the bleeding digit up to Rio’s eye level. She considered it for a moment, before bringing it to her mouth. Slowly, her lips parted, and she placed Agatha’s finger in her mouth, tongue laving over the bloody tip.
Fuck.
“Rio,” she warned, but the other woman didn’t stop, didn’t break eye contact. “We said we weren’t going to do this any more.”
“Do what?” She said, releasing her finger with a soft pop.
“Don’t,” Agatha cautioned again, but her voice was nothing more than a whisper. She wasn’t sure if she even meant it.
“Don’t what?” Rio murmured, gaze dropping to Agatha’s lips. They hovered there for a moment, suspended. Someone had to make the next move.
Agatha dipped forward first. She couldn’t help it. She could feel Rio’s breath on her face, smell the red wine and see where it had stained the lines in her lips. Her eyes were hooded but no less intense, dark enough in the doorway that they looked almost black.
She didn’t even try, really. She knew it was going to happen from the moment she sat down for dinner, the moment she stepped in the house, the moment she crushed that hyacinth. Knew this was coming at one point or another. Knew Rio was inevitable, like she always had been.
Sitting and staring at her over dinner like she sat and stared at her in court, like she sat and stared over their first shared whiskey, like she sat and stared at her in bed after the first time they slept together, cigarette dangling from her fingertips.
Their lips met softly at first, gently, full of uncertainty. Not because they didn’t know each other, but because they knew too well.
It didn’t last long, a brush of Rio’s tongue along her bottom lip opening the gateway to teeth, tongues swirling, panting in each other’s mouths. She hadn’t realised she had backed Rio up against a wall until her hands were pressed up against it, framing the other woman’s head as she kissed her deeper, teeth knocking together as she felt hands run under the waistband of her jeans.
She kissed down Rio’s neck - god, her perfume - stopping to pull aside the loose collar of her already unbuttoned shirt to suck a sharp mark just above her collarbone, in the dip of soft skin that has always driven her crazy.
Rio hissed a breath through her teeth. “Fuck, I’ve missed you.”
Agatha kissed her way back up the side of her neck, until she was just below her ear. “I hate you,” she whispered, before biting down on the thin skin underneath her earlobe. Rio went soft in her arms, whimpering as the pain registered.
She heard her pulse in her ears at the sound, head flashing hot. She was lying, she had missed this too. Missed the noises she made, missed the way her arms wrapped around her neck just trying to keep herself upright.
Without warning, Rio spun them around, pressing Agatha against the wall and pawing at her clothes. She mouthed at her neck, keening noises slipping past her lips as she fumbled with her belt buckle, and the older woman chuckled as she tilted her head back, spine tingling as Rio ran her tongue down her carotid.
She ran her fingers through her ex-wife’s shorter hair, silky against her fingers, before winding it around her knuckles and pulling sharply. Rio’s head snapped back, wincing slightly, the vacant look gone from her eyes at the sharp movement.
“What the fuck?” She was surprised, angry, tilting her head back to ease the pain. Agatha knew it wasn’t a patch on how turned on she was.
“On your knees,” Agatha said, smirking as the bold look faltered in the other woman’s eyes.
“Fuck you,” Rio snarled, but she knew the tables had finally turned.
“I said, on your fucking knees, Rio,” and as she spoke, she wrapped her leg around her body and pressed at the back of her knee, the younger woman crumpling against her until she was knelt at her feet.
Now, this was familiar.
Rio on her knees, panting heavily, and Agatha looking down on her, a fistful of hair in her hand. She took a moment to revel in it, bathe in the rush of power it brought, eyes nearly fluttering shut at the hot throb the image in front of her sent through her body. Rio could play all the games she wants, but for this, she was always, always in charge.
She took a moment to check in, relaxing her grip on her hair and cupping the side of her face.
“You okay?” She murmured, searching in her gaze for anything that could indicate otherwise.
The woman on her knees smiled softly, eyes closing as she turned her face towards her palm, pressing a light kiss there before turning back.
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.”
Agatha hummed, hand tightening in her lover’s hair again. “You gonna be a good girl for me, then?” She asked, mouth going dry as she saw the shift in Rio’s eyes.
She loved it, the immediate effect she had. She could swear her eyes get darker, slightly more hooded, her lips parting further, cheeks more flushed.
Rio nodded, slow like molasses.
“Take them off,” she ordered, nodding to her own trousers. It took her ex-wife a second for the words to register, and then she was eagerly unbuttoning her jeans and pulling them down her legs. As soon as they were off, Rio ran her hands up and down the tops of her legs, pressing open-mouthed kisses to the soft skin on the inside of her thighs.
“I didn’t say you could touch, Rio,” she chastised, tightening the fist wrapped in her hair. Rio sat back on her heels, tears prickling at her eyes from the sharp pain. Agatha wet her lips and released her, the moment heavy in the air, Rio’s gaze never leaving hers.
She was the picture of perfect submission. Collar pulled so the angry mark on her collarbone stood out, chest heaving as she panted, brown eyes hooded but staring up at her with reverence. She smirked, and stalked into the other room, removing her underwear as she did so.
“Come, pet,” she threw behind her.
“Fuck you, Agatha,” Rio snarled, moving to get up.
“No. Crawl.”
“No,” Rio snapped, and Agatha grinned from her seat opposite the doorway, hands working at the buttons of her flannel shirt.
“Crawl, and I’ll let you taste me.” Rio faltered there on her knees in the doorway, weighing up the desire and humiliation. Agatha loved this, when her girl was just on the edge of submission, bratty side fighting against her obedient one. “Come on, baby,” she cooed, taking a nipple in between her fingers and letting out a sigh as her eyes fluttered closed. She heard Rio’s sharp inhale and opened them again to see her crawling across the floor to her, expression a mixture of huger and anger.
She paused on her knees in front of Agatha, hands placed on her thighs, nails digging in so she resisted the urge to touch without permission. The seated woman smirked. After all this time, she still remembered the rules.
“Such a good girl for me, aren’t you?” She reached down to touch Rio’s cheek, laughing softly at the way her jaw tensed as she bit back a retort. “Touch me.”
Rio ran her hands up her body, fingers finding her nipples as she kissed the inside of the other woman’s thighs again, biting gently on the taut skin there. Agatha’s hands found her hair again, grip gentler than it was before, taking the time to pull the hair out of her face. Rio pulled back slightly as she reached the top of her thighs, a question in her eyes. The other woman nodded, head tipping back against the couch as Rio’s tongue found her.
Her arms wrapped around her legs, spreading them and pulling her closer to the edge of the seat for a better angle as she swiped her tongue through the length of her, a soft moan leaving Agatha’s lips as her hips bucked up of their own accord.
God, she was good at this. God, she had missed this. She was such a classic cop, personal life in shambles as she focused on cases that left no room for dates, or hook ups, or anything other than falling asleep with her hand in between her legs, too tired to even get herself off. She missed the touch of someone else.
Rio wrapped her lips around her clit, sucking gently, and she groaned, fists opening and closing around silky dark hair.
That was a lie. She hadn’t missed someone else, she had missed Rio.
She sucked in a sharp inhale as Rio moved one of her hands from where it was wrapped around her thigh before sliding fingers inside her, curses falling from her lips as she revelled in the feeling of being full. She angled them up, pressing inside of her as she ran her tongue over her repeatedly, and Agatha’s breath caught in her throat as she felt herself nearing the edge.
“Fuck, you’re so good, baby,” she managed to grit out, and Rio moaned against her, fingers curling exactly where she needed them, and she was coming, hands holding her lover’s head in place as her hips bucked again and again, a breathy high moan making its way from her throat as she slowly stilled.
As her grip on Rio’s hair loosened the other woman withdrew backwards, chin and lips shining, slipping her glistening fingers out and wasting no time before sliding them into her own mouth. She looked obscene, fully dressed with her hair tangled, eyes never leaving Agatha’s as she licked the wetness from her hand.
“Take your clothes off,” Agatha said, chest still heaving. Rio complied, undoing the few buttons left closed on her shirt and sliding her pants off. “All of them,” she said, and the other woman reached round to unclip her bra, letting it drop to the floor carelessly before hooking her fingers into her underwear and tugging them down. Agatha sat and watched, eyes roaming her body, desire flaring up in between her legs again as she took in her ex-wife’s tanned skin and lithe body, hands balled into fists at her sides making her smirk.
“Come,” she said, shifting in the chair and nodding down to her lap. “Sit.”
Rio padded forwards before straddling her lap, thighs hot against Agatha’s own.
“I’m not your pet,” Rio sneered, and Agatha chuckled.
“Oh, but you are,” she mocked, cupping the other woman’s cheek. “Doing everything I say so obediently, my good girl.”
Rio’s mouth parted, licking her lips as she attempted to look disaffected. “You wish you could control me, Aggie,” she taunted.
Agatha’s hand shot up and gripped her around her throat as she laughed, grating and cold, index finger and thumb under the sharp corners of her jawline.
“I already do, sweetheart,” she whispered, reaching with her other hand to rake her nails across her ribs, Rio letting out a cracked moan as her hips canted forwards. “Don’t I?”
The other woman pressed her lips together, refusing to answer her even as her hands came up to rest on the sofa beside Agatha’s head, shaky arms holding up her weight.
“Who controls you, pet?” She asked again, tightening and releasing on her neck periodically, watching her lover’s eyes flutter as she struggled to keep them open.
“Fuck you,” Rio rasped, words losing their vitriol as she ground down on Agatha’s lap, hips betraying her.
At that, Agatha reached down, fingers playing between Rio’s legs, a smile tugging on her lips as she felt just how wet she was.
“And you want me to believe that you don’t love this? Look at you, baby, dripping for me,” she cooed, fingers still wrapped round the younger woman’s throat.
“Fuck-” Rio began, breaking off into a moan as Agatha sank two fingers deep inside her
“Say it, baby,” she murmured, hand around her neck to limit her movements as she tried to ride her hand. “Say it, and I’ll give you what you want.”
“I-” Rio stuttered, brows furrowing, a slight sheen of sweat over her neck and chest.
“Come on, sweetheart. My good girl.”
“Fuck, okay, you control me, I’m sorry, please, please-” Rio babbled, moaning loud and long when Agatha finally moved, head falling down to rest on Agatha’s own.
Rio’s hips continued to buck against her hand, setting the pace herself as Agatha tightened her grip around her throat once more. She adjusted her arm slightly, the heel of her palm in the perfect position for the other woman to grind against, and she heard a sobbing moan fall from Rio’s lips.
“Come for me, baby, come on my fingers,” she coaxed gently, Rio’s quick breaths coming fast and hot against her face. “Come for me, Rio.”
Rio’s hips bucked forwards sharply and then stilled, the rest of her body convulsing as she came hard, panting heavily as Agatha released her throat and moved to cup the back of her neck, tilting her head up to kiss her. She shifted slightly, and Rio whimpered, a pathetic, weak thing that send heat straight to Agatha’s core.
She crooked her fingers and Rio whimpered again, hands moving to grip Agatha’s shoulder, nails digging in. She shifted again, fingers rocking gently, yet persistently inside her.
“Good girl,” she praised, feeling Rio’s hips shift to meet her movements, breath catching in her throat each time she pressed inside her.
“Agatha, Agatha,” she chanted, and the older woman grasped the back of her head, holding her tight as she murmured in her ear. “Agatha, I can’t, I-”
“Yes, you can, baby,” she said, moving faster, insides turning molten at the way the other woman let out a broken whimper.
“I can’t, I can’t, please-” she begged, but Agatha just held her closer, bodies slick against each other. She knew her better than she knew herself.
“You can, sweetheart. Let go, baby,” she said, voice smooth and low, and Rio let out a long moan, strangled and reedy, as she came again, hips stuttering in Agatha’s lap as she rode it out, panting even as she stopped moving.
Agatha continued to murmur in her ear, stroking her hair as she slipped her fingers out, wiping them on the sleeve of her discarded flannel before wrapping her arms around the other woman, body still shaking.
They stayed like that for a while, before Rio lifted her head, hair mussed and face flushed. Her gaze dipped to Agatha’s lips and she hesitated for a second before dipping down, kissing her softly.
“What are we doing?” She asked when she ducked back, eyes focused somewhere near Agatha’s shoulder.
The older woman sighed, running her hands down smooth skin to rest at her hips. “I don’t know, Rio. I-” she paused, closing her eyes.
I love you. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done this, I shouldn’t have left, I miss your cooking. I’m sorry about the hyacinths. I hate being away from you. I don’t know if I could come back.
“I should go.”
“No, stay.”
“Rio, I-”
“Stay. I won’t-” she cut herself off. “It’s late, you shouldn’t be driving. Stay in the spare room.”
Agatha was silent for a moment. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah. He’ll be back early tomorrow, you can set straight off.” She brought her hand to Agatha’s cheek for a moment before climbing off her, gathering her clothes and holding them tight to her chest. “I’m going for a shower. I trust you remember where the spare towels are?” Rio joked, the smile not quite reaching her eyes.
Agatha nodded, a weak smile on her own face. A spare towel, in a house that used to be her own.
By the time Rio was in the shower, she was gone.
“One, two, three…” she covered his face with one hand as she pushed aside the door with the other. “Mind the step, baby.”
“Mama, what is it?” He giggled, hands outstretched in front of him to pat at the door and walls to get his bearings.
She chuckled, guiding him up the step, but said nothing. They turned the corner into the sitting room, and she mouthed the signal to her wife.
“Surprise!” They both yelled, Agatha moving her hand away from Nicky’s eyes as he spun around, taking in the decorations.
Above them was a huge model spider, legs spread out to all corners of the ceiling, face contorted to bare it’s fangs, thin pieces of clear resin dangling down like venom. The floor was covered in fog from the machine hidden behind the tv, and cobwebs were strewn on every lamp and picture frame, even draped along the back of the couches. Rio had gone to town with the fake blood - there were bloody fingerprints on the mirror and a pentagram on the back of the door.
There was not one, not two, but three full sized fake skeletons in the room, one with its arms framing the television, one sat on the piano stool, pretending to play, and one in her seat on the couch, bony fingers on the remote like it was changing channel.
Nicky, done circling, turned and barrelled into both of them, little arms wrapped best as he could around their waists.
“It’s amazing! It’s my own special Halloween! Thank you, thank you!” He all but yelled, before taking off to run around the room, experimentally swiping a finger through the fake blood on the mirror.
Rio turned to her, eyes wide as she grinned, the green LED lights reflected in them. “So, what do you think?”
Agatha placed both hands on her waist, pulling her in as she smiled back. “You did a fantastic job, honey,” she said, placing a soft kiss on her lips.
“Yeah?” Rio asked against her mouth, kissing her again and draping her arms around her neck.
“It looks amazing in here. Thank you,”
“I wanted to make it special for him,” Rio said, fingers brushing through the tangles and knots at the base of her neck that she never managed to brush out properly.
“You did. Look at him,” she nodded to where their son - who had, at some point, located a small cloak - was hunched over a toy cauldron, stirring it with a stick and chanting in what sounded like Latin. “God, he’s such a little freak,” she said affectionately, and Rio laughed, resting her head on Agatha’s shoulder.
She hummed. “Probably safe to say he gets this Halloween thing from me.”
Agatha nodded, chuckling and kissing the side of her wife’s head. “That and the spice thing. Are you sure he’s mine at all?”
“I watched them pull him out of you, so I sure hope so,” Rio quipped, pecking the side of the other woman’s neck before straightening up. “I’m gonna go check on dinner.”
“God, I love you.”
“Are you sure?” Rio said, and Agatha frowned, laughing at the odd question.
“Yes? Of course I’m sure, baby, why?”
“Good, because that fake blood stains real bad, and unless you want to give Mrs Hart an aneurysm, you’re definitely going to have to repaint that door.”