Courtroom Sparks

Today was the day.

For the first time in almost five months, they would be in the same building. The same room. Breathing the same air.

It was the trial. Chloe's ex. The one who wouldn't let go. The one who had crossed the line--again and again. Holly.

But it had never been straightforward. They had broken up and fallen back together more times than either of them could count. And the reason? That spark. That magnetic, electric pull that kept drawing them back. Again and again. But it was always physical--raw, charged, and ultimately destructive.

Their history was carved into every surface they'd touched: hotel beds, the back seat of the car, pub toilets, the stairs, the floor, the hot tub under the stars. The bath. The shower. Anywhere. Everywhere.

But this time, Chloe knew she had to end it. Truly end it.

And that's how she found herself here--standing in a courtroom, about to speak against the woman who had loved her, wrecked her, fucked her in ways she couldn't even articulate. The woman who had made her body explode, who had been the first to make her lose control entirely.

She had asked for a screen so she wouldn't have to see Holly--because if she saw her, she wouldn't go through with it. But the "screen" was no more than a flimsy paper curtain. And the usher had walked Holly right past her--close enough that Chloe could feel her. Smell her. Shaking, she barely kept her footing.

Holly pleaded guilty. Chloe only had to read her victim statement. She poured her pain into the words, but laced them with unspoken confessions. Hidden messages only Holly would hear: This wasn't to hurt you. It was to save us. To save me.

When Holly was escorted out again--barely a breath away--Chloe's heart stuttered in her chest. She was sure Holly could hear it. Feel it.

Afterward, Chloe waited, as advised. Time to let the tension settle. Time for Holly to be gone. She headed to the toilets, unaware that her past was still in the building.

She always chose the furthest cubicle. She always had. But as she approached, a door flung open.

And there she was.

Holly.

She collided with her, pinning Chloe to the tiled wall. Their bodies flush. Breath mingling. Their eyes locked.

Hatred? Desire? Chloe couldn't tell. Holly was motionless, tense, staring.

Slowly--carefully--Holly reached for Chloe's chin and tilted it. Her lips brushed Chloe's neck. A feather-light kiss, just above the collarbone.

No resistance. No words. Just the breathless silence of something reawakening.

Each kiss was painfully slow. Delicate. Torturous. A nibble. A moan. A whisper of what had once been everything. Chloe's body betrayed her--arched, surrendered, ached. And then, something snapped.

Chloe shoved her backward, guiding her into the cubicle. She slammed the door. Locked it.

No more hesitation.

Holly surged forward, her mouth crashing into Chloe's. Desperate. Messy. A hand on her breast, the other slipping down, tracing every curve she remembered. Chloe grabbed her ass--still perfect in her palms--pulling her closer, grinding against her.

Chloe had chosen her outfit carefully that morning. Just in case. Some wild, secret part of her had hoped for this. Expected this.

And now--pressed against the cold cubicle wall, hearts pounding in sync--she was grateful for that instinct.

Holly's hand slid down, fingertips brushing the hem of Chloe's dress. She found bare skin--thigh--and paused. The contact was electric. Chloe jolted, as if the air itself had cracked with heat. Fireworks, or maybe an earthquake. Holly met her eyes, searching. Chloe's breath caught, but she gave the smallest nod--permission wrapped in need.

Holly's touch moved upward, slow and deliberate, tracing the soft inside of Chloe's thighs. Her fingers found damp fabric--already soaked, already begging. The spark hadn't died. It had been there all along, hidden beneath the wreckage, smoldering, waiting for a single touch to ignite it again.

Holly sank to her knees in the tight confines of the cubicle, pulling Chloe's underwear down with practiced urgency. And there it was--bare, glistening, and right in front of her. The place she had dreamed about, ached for, the centre of every fantasy since the day they'd split.

She didn't hesitate. She leaned in, mouth meeting heat, tongue parting slick folds to find the spot she knew too well. Chloe let out a sharp groan, one hand slamming against the stall wall for balance, the other tangling in Holly's hair.

Holly licked slowly, deliberately, savoring every second. The taste of her. The sound of her. The way Chloe's hips moved of their own accord, chasing sensation. Every moan that spilled from her lips fed the fire between them.

"Shhh," Holly whispered against her, breath hot, voice teasing. "We'll get thrown in jail for fucking in a courthouse bathroom."

Chloe's laugh escaped as a breathless gasp. "It'd be worth iii--" But the sentence died in her throat the moment Holly thrust two fingers inside her--deep, slick, unrelenting. Chloe choked on air, her body arching, walls clenching around the sudden intrusion.

Holly didn't need to ask. She already knew--Chloe was soaked, ready, desperate. There was no hesitation, no resistance. Just heat. Need. Permission.

But then Holly pulled back. Slowly. Deliberately. Rising to her feet with predatory calm, eyes locked on Chloe's flushed, panting face. She smirked.

"You think you're the only one who came dressed for this?" she murmured.

And then Chloe saw it--Holly unbuttoning her trousers just enough to reveal it: black, strapped tight to her hips, veined and glistening at the tip. She'd been wearing it the whole time. Under her courtroom clothes. Hidden, just like the fire that still burned between them.

Chloe's lips parted in disbelief. Desire. Awe.

"Jesus, Holly..."

"Turn around," Holly said. Low. Commanding. "Hands on the wall."

Chloe obeyed without a word, her body already trembling in anticipation. This wasn't just a fuck. This was years of obsession, addiction, punishment, and pleasure--ready to crash over them both, one last time.

Holly stepped between her legs, one hand gripping Chloe's thigh to hold her steady, the other guiding the strap-on to her slick entrance. She didn't ease in. She didn't tease. She thrust deep--hard--making Chloe cry out, her fingers clawing at the tiled wall.

"Fuck, Holly..."

"You wanted this," Holly growled, her hands now tight on Chloe's hips, dragging her back with each punishing stroke. "You wore that dress knowing exactly what you were doing."

"So did you," Chloe gasped, head falling back against Holly's shoulder. "You came here with it on... in a fucking courtroom."

Their bodies slammed together, rhythm brutal, perfect. Chloe felt each thrust shatter something inside her. Not just from pleasure--but from everything that hadn't been said. Everything that still lived between them.

Holly leaned in, her lips brushing Chloe's cheek, her breath warm and shaking. "I hate how much I still want you."

"I hate that I never stopped," Chloe whispered.

Chloe cried out, her voice echoing off the walls--loud, uncontrolled. But Holly was ready. She reached around, clamping her hand firmly over Chloe's mouth, her other hand gripping her hip like a vice.

"Shhh," she hissed into her ear, hips slamming into her, again and again. "You'll get us both fucking arrested."

Chloe moaned against her palm, the sound raw, desperate. She was pinned between cold tile and pure heat--her body jerking with every powerful thrust, every filthy, perfect drag of silicone inside her. Holly's rhythm was ruthless, punishing. This wasn't gentle. This was possession. This was punishment. This was everything they'd ever done wrong, expressed in flesh and friction.

"Still so fucking tight," Holly growled. "You act like you hate me, but this--this pussy still remembers me."

Chloe nodded helplessly against her hand, her whole body shaking, legs nearly giving out.

But then--just as the pleasure became too much--Holly stopped. Still inside her. Breathing hard.

She pulled back slightly, letting go of Chloe's mouth. "Turn around," she said. "I want to see you."

Chloe was panting, eyes glassy with lust--and something dangerously close to love. She turned slowly, deliberately. Then, with a wicked smile, she lifted one leg and rested her toes on the toilet seat.

Her hand slid down between her thighs, fingers gliding through her soaked folds. She circled her clit with practiced ease, eyes locked on Holly's. She edged her hand lower, moving closer to where Holly still hovered with the strap.

She knew exactly what she was doing. Holly hated it when Chloe touched herself like this--especially when she knew Holly could be the one doing it. And sure enough...

Holly snapped.

She stepped in hard, the tip of the strap sliding back into Chloe in one brutal thrust. One hand locked around her thigh, the other tangled in her hair, pulling her in so close their lips almost collided.

"You think this is yours?" she growled. "You think you get to touch yourself when I'm right fucking here?"

She thrust again. Hard. Ruthless. Chloe gasped, eyes wide, body arching into her.

"Why are we so good at this," Holly hissed through gritted teeth, driving in again, "but fucking useless at life?"

Chloe choked on a moan. Her hands scrabbled for purchase--against Holly's shoulders, against the stall wall--anything to ground her.

"Why can I ruin you like this," Holly continued, voice breaking, hips slamming into Chloe with brutal rhythm, "but I can't--we can't--do anything else right?"

Thrust. Thrust. Thrust. Her words matched the rhythm. Her fury. Her heartbreak.

"Why does this--you--still feel like home?"

Chloe's response wasn't a word--it was a cry. Raw. Guttural. A broken, breathless moan ripped from her chest as Holly slammed into her again, hitting that perfect, punishing spot over and over.

Her body convulsed, back arching, legs trembling violently. Her hands clawed at Holly's back, at the wall, at nothing. She was unraveling--loud, messy, unstoppable.

"Fuck--Holly--" she screamed, the sound echoing off the bathroom tiles. Her orgasm ripped through her like a storm, her pussy clenching hard, soaking them both with another gush of release.

It was too much.

The strap-on's base ground into Holly's clit with every thrust, and the pounding against Chloe's slick heat pushed her right over the edge. Her legs buckled as the orgasm hit--sharp, unexpected, all-consuming.

"Fuck--Chloe--" Holly gasped, grinding hard into her, her hips stuttering as her own release tore through her. She pressed her forehead to Chloe's, breath ragged, both of them shaking, wet, clinging to each other like the wreckage they were.

No words. Just the sound of them--panting, trembling, trying to remember how to breathe.

They stood there for a moment, tangled, trembling, breath hitting breath. But Chloe wasn't done.

She reached between them, fingers sliding down Holly's strap-soaked folds, the wetness not just from Chloe--Holly was dripping, the orgasm still pulsing through her. Chloe pushed her back and pressed Holly against the stall wall.

"You don't get to walk away without me wrecking you too," she whispered, voice dark and shaking.

Chloe didn't hesitate--she dropped to her knees, yanked Holly's trousers and strap down just enough, and buried her face between her thighs. Her tongue found Holly's soaked folds instantly, and her fingers followed--two, then three, fucking into her hard, fast, deep.

Holly's head fell back against the cubicle wall with a thud, a moan tearing out of her throat. "Fuck, Chloe--"

Chloe was relentless--tongue on her clit, fingers curling just right, the pace unrelenting. Holly was close. Too close. Her thighs shook, her hands gripping the stall walls like anchors.

"You think I forgot how to ruin you?" Chloe muttered against her. "You think I don't know every inch of you?"

Holly nodded frantically, whimpering, hips bucking toward her mouth. She was right on the edge--trembling, desperate. So close to falling.

And then--Chloe stopped.

Just like that.

Fingers still inside her, tongue just barely brushing, she froze. No movement. No rhythm. Just stillness.

Holly let out a broken, strangled sound. "No--"

Chloe looked up at her, eyes blazing, voice low and steady. "You know what this is?" she whispered. "This is what you did to me. Over and over. Wanting you. Right there. And you'd pull away. Vanish. Leave me begging."

She pressed her fingers in a little deeper--but didn't move them. "So now it's your turn."

Holly trembled. Fucked open, panting, aching. Right there. And completely at Chloe's mercy.

"This is your punishment," Chloe whispered. "You don't get to come. Not yet."

Holly was panting now, on the edge of tears, her hips twitching, trying to fuck herself on Chloe's fingers that refused to move.

"Please," she whispered, voice cracked and desperate. "Please don't do this to me."

Chloe just watched her, eyes dark, lips slick. Calm. In control.

"Beg properly," she said softly. "Beg me like you mean it."

Holly's head dropped back, her pride disintegrating with every second. "Chloe, please. I need it. I need you. Please fuck me. Please let me come."

Chloe held her gaze for a beat longer... then moved.

Without another word, she slammed her fingers back inside Holly--fast, brutal, relentless. Her mouth returned to her clit with a hunger that bordered on violent.

Holly screamed. Her whole body tensed like a bowstring. She was going to come--

And Chloe stopped. Again.

Completely still. Wet fingers inside her. Lips hovering over her clit.

"No--no, fuck, please--" Holly sobbed, her thighs trembling, her hands tangled in Chloe's hair now, trying to pull her closer. "Don't stop, don't stop again--I'll do anything--"

Chloe looked up. Her voice was calm. Measured. Dangerous.

"Now you get to feel what it's like to want something so badly it hurts."

Then she started again--but not fast. Not punishing.

Slow. Agonisingly slow.

Each thrust was a deliberate torment, her fingers dragging out of Holly's soaked cunt only to slide back in with unbearable patience. Her tongue barely flicked over her clit, slow, teasing licks that made Holly cry out with frustration.

"You'll come," Chloe whispered. "But on my terms. When I decide. Not a second before."

Holly was a mess. Whimpering. Clutching at Chloe, at the wall, at anything to hold onto while her body begged for release.

And Chloe just smiled against her, fucking her slow and deep--watching her fall apart one inch at a time.

Chloe slowly pulled her mouth away, fingers still buried inside Holly's trembling cunt, moving in torturously slow strokes. Holly's eyes fluttered open, wet and wild, her body barely able to take another second.

And then--Chloe stood.

She rose with purpose, never removing her hand, never pausing the slow, deliberate motion of her fingers. She pressed her body against Holly's, their chests heaving in time, and captured her mouth in a deep, messy, desperate kiss. Tongues tangled. Teeth clashed. It wasn't soft--it was everything. Years of want and war and love too brutal to survive.

Chloe broke the kiss just enough to whisper against Holly's lips, breath hot and heavy.

"This is what you've done to me."

And then she fucked her.

Fingers plunging deep, fast, hard--relentless. Holly cried out, the sound guttural and raw, as her body shattered. She came with a violent jolt, legs giving out, hips jerking away from Chloe's hand as she collapsed backward onto the toilet seat, panting, spent.

Her hand shot down, grabbing Chloe's wrist to finally pull those fingers from her soaked cunt. She couldn't take another second.

Chloe let her. Just stood there, breathless, watching her fall apart.

Holly sat there, legs spread, dripping, wrecked--and staring up at the only person who could ever break her like this.

Silence settled over them. Heavy. Raw.

Holly sat slumped on the toilet seat, legs still parted, trembling, her chest rising and falling in uneven gasps. Chloe stood before her, lips parted, eyes glazed--not with lust anymore, but with the ache that always followed. The after. The knowing.

For a long moment, neither of them said a word. Just the sound of water dripping somewhere. The distant flush of another toilet. The weight of everything unsaid pressing in around them.

Holly looked up first. Her voice was barely a whisper.

"Why are we like this?"

Chloe swallowed hard. Her hands were still trembling. "Because we only know how to fuck each other. Not... keep each other."

Holly let out a shaky laugh. But there was no humour in it. Only pain.

"We ruin everything else."

"We ruin each other," Chloe said. "Even when we love. Especially when we love."

Holly looked away, jaw tightening. "And I do. You know that, right?"

"I know," Chloe said. A tear slipped down her cheek. "And I still can't do this. Not again."

Holly nodded slowly. No fight left. No denial. Just the quiet devastation of acceptance.

"So that's it," she said. "This was the last time."

Chloe hesitated. "Wasn't it always the last time?"

Holly didn't answer. Just sat there, broken, letting the silence answer for her.

Chloe turned to leave, her heart a thousand bruises deep. She paused at the door, hand on the lock, and without turning back, said the final words:

"I'll never stop loving you. But I have to stop choosing you."

Then she was gone.

Leaving behind only the sound of her footsteps and the smell of sex and sorrow in the air.