[ Denji barely recognizes what she's done as an infraction, as worthy of a pair of jaws nipping at her, spraying spit and vitriol in her face. Maybe that's the bulldog in her; all she really wants to take in is the tremor moving through Aki's entire musculature, her skin and thighs, as if something intrinsic inside of her were fraying, reshaping. Her puffy, slick-warm folds rolling down her knuckles, a mouth swallowing candy down from the stick, hurrying to get to the surprise center. ]
Fuck. [ — the curse punches out of her as she watches. Sweat stings the rim of her eyes, but she forces herself not to blink while her fingers jam in, just right, palm grinding hard into her pussy, shoving and shoving. The smell of sex coming off of her, off them both, dilutes every thought in her head into an unintelligible string of fucks and she's burning, she's so wet, so tight. And it even if Denji's not the one getting off, even if Aki looks like she wants to slam her face into a door hard enough that the bloodstain won't come out — it feels so damnably good. She can't possibly expect her to feel bad about about throwing her off, can she?
The vibrator drums at Aki's clit, close to forgotten at this point with Denji leaning into each thrust of her fingers, her pelvis backing each slam, trying to gouge out more sounds from her — and when she doesn't hear anything else, when finally nothing comes out besides the creak of her throat airlessly vacuuming in oxygen, that's how Denji knows what's incoming. Without thinking, without care for Aki might jab or twist away from her, she presses forward, desperate to feel her spasming and warm against her. Part of her face turned into the pillow, she noses into her cheek, licking up the tear routing its way down.
And then stillness. And then not. ]
Mm? [ Slow to connect the dots, that's the only thing Aki gets for a bit, until her chin lifts, revealing Denji's openly squinting gaze.
A soft click turns off the vibrator. Denji lets it roll off to the side of the bed, throwing a hand out to blindly reach for the nightstand. She's too far. Grunting, she flops off from Aki, wincing as her tailbone sits on the curved plastic of the toy, and then she flops over again, pulling out the first drawer. The drawer bangs back in after she does feel anything noteworthy, and her hand drops a step to the second drawer. ]
What'm I even… Ah.
[ Finding them side by side, she quickly retrieves the cigarette carton, the cold lighter, both tucked into her fingers. She briefly looks down at the items, the scrunch of her brows. ]
Never mind, [ she says, though nothing she said before warrants the phrase. ] Here.
no subject
Fuck. [ — the curse punches out of her as she watches. Sweat stings the rim of her eyes, but she forces herself not to blink while her fingers jam in, just right, palm grinding hard into her pussy, shoving and shoving. The smell of sex coming off of her, off them both, dilutes every thought in her head into an unintelligible string of fucks and she's burning, she's so wet, so tight. And it even if Denji's not the one getting off, even if Aki looks like she wants to slam her face into a door hard enough that the bloodstain won't come out — it feels so damnably good. She can't possibly expect her to feel bad about about throwing her off, can she?
The vibrator drums at Aki's clit, close to forgotten at this point with Denji leaning into each thrust of her fingers, her pelvis backing each slam, trying to gouge out more sounds from her — and when she doesn't hear anything else, when finally nothing comes out besides the creak of her throat airlessly vacuuming in oxygen, that's how Denji knows what's incoming. Without thinking, without care for Aki might jab or twist away from her, she presses forward, desperate to feel her spasming and warm against her. Part of her face turned into the pillow, she noses into her cheek, licking up the tear routing its way down.
And then stillness. And then not. ]
Mm? [ Slow to connect the dots, that's the only thing Aki gets for a bit, until her chin lifts, revealing Denji's openly squinting gaze.
A soft click turns off the vibrator. Denji lets it roll off to the side of the bed, throwing a hand out to blindly reach for the nightstand. She's too far. Grunting, she flops off from Aki, wincing as her tailbone sits on the curved plastic of the toy, and then she flops over again, pulling out the first drawer. The drawer bangs back in after she does feel anything noteworthy, and her hand drops a step to the second drawer. ]
What'm I even… Ah.
[ Finding them side by side, she quickly retrieves the cigarette carton, the cold lighter, both tucked into her fingers. She briefly looks down at the items, the scrunch of her brows. ]
Never mind, [ she says, though nothing she said before warrants the phrase. ] Here.