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The music is so, so much louder when she is around Zach. It’s almost intolerable, actually.
If she doesn’t do everything she can to focus, she’s back there, waltzing with Catherine, in a ballroom far too beautiful to belong to an organization as evil as the Circle of Cavan.
She hasn’t told her mother, or well, anyone, that she’s figured that part out. They’d probably be horrified that she feels some sort of attachment to the woman. And they told her not to go digging into her memories, so it’s basically her fault that she uncovered it. Uncovered that the first time after she was taken from her prison cell in the Circle’s headquarters to be tortured, Catherine had patched her back up. Catherine had told them they were being too hard on her, that Cammie needed a woman’s touch. “Who better to break a Gallagher Girl, than another Gallagher Girl?” she’d heard Catherine telling the men who’d been holding her. But as much as she doesn’t want to believe her memories, she has the distinct impression that was just for show to get the men to leave her alone. She has the distinct impression Catherine was the one who let her go, who told her she deserved to be free.
“Gallagher Girl?” Zach touches her arm lightly, and Cammie flinches away. His brow furrows in concern.
“Are you okay, Cammie?” Cammie doesn’t like the way Bex is looking at her, like she’s a bomb about to go off. Just because she knows how to assemble a gun now…
“Yeah,” Cammie lies, and smooths down her skirt. “Just… you know, getting touched is harder now. After what happened,” She swallows hard, hoping Bex doesn’t press for details.
She doesn’t, thankfully. She just nods like it makes sense. Her mother probably told her that something like that might happen.
She can’t possibly have figured out that Gallagher Girl as a nickname means something very different to Cammie now.
Cammie…
Cammie…
She almost feels more than hears Catherine’s voice, hears her own name hot against her ear. She can feel Catherine’s lips, too, or rather the lipstick marks all over her neck.
“Catherine?” Cammie asks, voice shaking a little.
“Tell me what you want, Cammie,” Catherine purrs.
“I want —” Cammie’s voice catches. She’s not sure what she wants.
“If you want something, you’re going to have to ask for it, Cameron,” Catherine’s voice has an edge of impatience to it, and she feels her warmth leave her side. “Or you could just take it. Agents of the Circle of Cavan take what we want.”
“I don’t want to ask,” The growl in Cammie’s own voice scares her.
“No preguntes. Take it, Gallagher Girl,” Catherine’s voice is like a command Cammie is helpless to resist. Cammie watches the scene from overhead (and it apparently is a scene in the BDSM meaning of the term) as her own self expertly breaks out of the handcuffs that Catherine has put on her.
Then she sits on Catherine’s face.
Catherine is pretending that Cammie is forcing her, but Cammie knows the sound of her desperate panting better than that by now. Catherine wants this just as much as she does, probably more. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t be so good at it. She takes her sweet time licking Cammie, savoring her like she’s a particularly tasty red lollipop. Then her teeth graze her clit, and Cammie is drawn back into her body by the shaking power of her orgasm, writhing on top of Catherine in the dream as she writhes in the sheets in real life.
When she opens her eyes, she is drenched in sweat and Macey is standing in front of her bed, asking that question she’s so tired of being asked. “Cammie? Are you okay?”
“Uh,” Cammie’s mouth is dry as she self-consciously shoves hair out of her face. “Yeah. Um. I had a… sex dream,” It’s more truthful than she’s been about any of this sort of stuff with anyone yet, but you try waking up in the middle of the night from a dream about your captor giving you an orgasm and trying to lie to your most experienced best friend about it. She was the one who helped Liz discover that girls also needed a translator if you were unintentionally flirting with them, after all.
“Okay. Well, that’s the best dream you’ve had since you returned, I bet,” Macey’s teasing causes Liz and Bex to gape at the casualness of it.
“Something like that,” Cammie says, and then looks at her other two best friends. “Um, guys? Was I saying anything while I was asleep?”
“You were —” Liz starts to say, but Bex cuts her girlfriend off with a pointed hand squeeze.
“Saying some stuff that didn’t really make much sense, Cam. You weren’t speaking clearly, and I think it was in multiple languages, anyway. None of us could really figure out what was going on.” Bex clarifies.
“Spanish?” Cammie asks, dread growing in her stomach. What has she done?
“Yeah,” Liz answers.
Cammie falls back onto the bed, suddenly exhausted all over again. The music is growing louder again.
“Cam, you know that… that whatever happened, it won’t change what we think of you, right? That we won’t think you’re awful, or anything?” Bex’s voice is growing more distant.
“Mhm,” Cammie mutters, as she falls back asleep.
She knows it’s not true. Spies are all liars, after all.