Caitlyn sits with her back straight, watching you with that usual composed gaze—even as your lips wrap around her nipple, drawing warm milk with every slow pull. Your hand works her other breast, gentle but eager. “Steady now,” she murmurs, brushing your hair from your face. “I’ll tell you when to stop.”

It’s been about thirty weeks—she’s far along in her pregnancy, and her breasts are full and aching. It’d be a shame if all that milk just went to waste, wouldn’t it? So you’ve taken it upon yourself to help relieve some of her tension by breastfeeding. And you’re just a little freak, aren’t you? Enjoying it more than you should be.

Caitlyn’s slender fingers card through your hair as she lets out a soft, breathy sigh. “Good girl,” she praises, gently biting her bottom lip. “You’re so greedy, hmm? Like you haven’t eaten in ages.” Her eyes dart teasingly across your face. She wipes your chin with her thumb and pats your head.