windfall | unfortunately, like a fool, i said, "it's not like i want to let you go"

unfortunately, like a fool, i said, "it's not like i want to let you go"

( continued from here! )

[ Denji stares up Aki's way, visibly annoyed, as she brooks another crest of colorless smoke invading her senses, slender tendrils ghosting over their heads, nearly transparent in the lamplight. This nicotine-addicted slag. Always with the insults… It means kissing! She kissed them! What other meaning could make out have? Still, she roughly erases what characters she was writing (she'd forgotten midway what the stroke pattern to one kanji was), decorating her report in rubber shavings. ]

I mean, you saw Emi-chan's stuff. A bunch of her dresses and skirts looked kinda itchy, but she had some grown-up outfits in the very, very back!

[ Instead of writing what she took, her pencil draws a series of doodles across the page: some peanut snacks, a bottle of tea looted from the mini fridge, a vial that she kindly labels as pirfume, and then the garment bag. ]

So I took one, since I don't got a whole lotta those. [ Most of her closet is filled with clothes from the secondhand store… and some secondhand straight from Aki's own wardrobe. For example, the tanktop she's wearing under her blouse right now. ] It's gonna make my rack look suuuper sexy on me, and then guys will be linin' up outside our apartment to take me on dates to the zoo and all that!

[ No, Denji doesn't know what the proper attire is for a zoo date. ]

…'course I'm not gonna go, seeing as I'm already taken. But you get the idea. What'd you get?

[ If she's remembering correctly, Aki's hands didn't look as full as her own walking out of the dressing room. Did she not take anything and now she's regretting it? ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Like still snow that hasn't before been tracked through, unfamiliar with what it hasn't been robbed of yet, Denji considers the remaining tenure to Aki's life with deathly blankness. How long has it been since she stood outside that hospital room? Last thought about what it'd feel like when Aki's neck, warm and pulsing with blood, finally hits the chopping block? They've known each other an extra few months since then; Aki's seen her cut her teeth into devil guts too many times to count, Denji's watched her burn through smoking alternatives after quitting cold turkey. And in that time…

Surely, something's changed. Must have if she's here sitting in the woman's lap, willingly. She just isn't certain if it matters. ]

Probably. [ Heels digging into the curve of Aki's hips, Denji drags herself forward, nearly putting them chest to chest, breath to breath. Has to tip her chin up to look at her, just like that time they were lost in the shafts of that stupid hotel. Just like it, but not quite there. They could be closer. ] You sure don't look that bothered by it.

[ One hand slowly sneaks up her side, rucks up Aki's shirt, the folds pressed into her armpit. Her palm grips against a clean line of slightly raise skin, the darkened scar meant for Denji — though, with her abilities, a thing like this never would have left a mark. ]

That's right, you didn't even look that scared when you got this. That was always weird to me.

[She's way too close. If the tables were turned, Denji would be scrambling backwards and yelling something about how this is too close. But Aki won't be so uncouth, so - lame.]

[At least, until her hand is skimming up the inside of her shirt and her brows raise as high as he hairline. She thinks she's going to go even farther for a moment, all the way up her top, but then she stops on the scar, still dark and thick with a keloid. She feels her hair stand on end at how - sensitive it is. Not the scar itself. That's long since healed. But the touch... Why is she touching her like this?]

Did you want me to look scared?

[It's not like Denji ever looks particularly scared during anything that happens to them, either. Though, Denji doesn't have as much to worry about. Still.]

I was afraid, then. But... [She sighs, pulling herself upright at last and setting her legs down. She pushes Denji back with the motion, trying to find a way to sit so she isn't half bent over, but if she's going to insist on this position, she won't dislodge her completely, pressing her legs between hers so that she can sit over her lap.] There. I wasn't afraid of dying, or anything. I was more worried about getting out of there - I wouldn't have let myself die to some stupid knife.

[Talk about a stupid way to go. She reaches up to raise her shirt a little more, letting her stomach show along with the thin, light scars that cover it in random places. Marks that are mostly healed, but still leftover from other fights. Fights where it wasn't about protecting someone, specifically, just herself.]

I've dealt with worse than some screaming guy waving around a knife.

I didn't want that…

[ But I just wanted to know when you decided you liked me 'nuff to keep me around for your Gun-hunting plans isn't something she can very well admit.

Denji starts to huff as her hands are forced to retract, but mention of Aki's realer concerns back then, her other scars, helps to fight her annoyance down and adjust to the new design of their limbs with little pushback, all things considered. Arms hugged around the underside of her legs, she leans to get a better look. In this case, "worse" looks like a whole constellation of impressions strewn across Aki's rib cage, canvasing her toned stomach. A few are paler, more faded, as if they could have been from a time beyond Aki's career as a devil hunter. But she knows in other places outside of her view, has seen flashes on her the woman's arms, down her muscled back, there are probably fresher ones, the skin angrily pulled tight and flush. Like it could burst red once more with the slightest puncture of even the dullest edge.

Her nails crescent into her thighs.

It doesn't make sense how much Denji wants to reach out again, rub her thumb against the softly textured outline of any one of them. Except unlike the mark she'd touched, none of these are hers to claim blame for. If she were in a museum or art gallery, she wouldn't exert half as much respect. ]

Ah, so, which one… was the worst?

[ Hurt the worst, healed the worst, whichever. She'll leave it up to Aki's interpretation. ]

The worst...?

[It's not like she keeps a catalogue of her scars. She's been lucky in some respects - She has no scars that are visible to most people, only herself when she bathes and a couple that are lower on her legs that are faintly visible if she wears a skirt or shorts. So Aki doesn't tend to think about them very often. Out of sight, out of mind. Being asked which one was the worst, even now... She isn't sure.]

...Well, maybe...

[Her hand reaches up, eyes raising to the ceiling with it. Pausing, maybe hesitating, before she lowers the collar of her shirt, tugging it downward so that Denji can see between her breasts without actually revealing them. There's only a small point there, a divot in her skin that's miscolored and darker than the surrounding vista.]

This was the one that scared me the most, when it happened - I thought I'd actually die. And it was just a house centipede fiend.

[But maybe because it was "just" a fiend, Aki had let her guard down. Allowed herself to be stabbed like that with one of its long arms. It's a little shameful to look back on, that it had gone through the one part of her uniform that isn't reinforced: the white shirt.]

It missed anything important, and it didn't even hurt that much. But it was probably the worst, I think.

[ From the jump, Denji doesn't realize what she's looking at. Her mouth broadens into a too cheeky smile, even as a flush ropes around her neck, probably about to say something dicey like, "You flashin' me again already?" Until she's hit with that backstory, and then her expression quickly dims with discomfort, mouth half-slack in her inability to react.

To mumble something other than: ] Oh…

[ She grimaces. She never would have guessed or been able to pick apart that prick dotting Aki's chest from the rest of the (admittedly, weirdly, pleasant to look at) scenery, either, nor imagine something so small able to incur the kind of fear that could single-handedly birth a devil. Or give strength to an existing one. Once upon a time, death used to be something that simply awaited her arrival. Doesn't matter if it was a car accident, a permanent plunge off a pier, or a sickness — it was a bridge to be crossed, a point to drop off from.

Now it's just a door with a hidden doorman that turns her away again and again.

But Denji thinks back on when she died that first time, that last real one. She remembers the surprise, how much it hurt. How much it didn't, her whole body supercharged with red hot energy. Running for her life, what was left of it — which, at that point, really only amounted to the small, injured dog hugged to her heart. Thinking that if she could make it to any exit, that would be enough. Maybe they would bleed out together. Maybe they would find safety. She didn't know what that looked like that, it wasn't something she could conjure in her dreams before, why would now be any different; she could only think that she wasn't ready to find out, either way. ]

I think I get it… Why it's the worst. 'cause you thought it'd be the one you wouldn't come back from. That would change everything, right?

[ Her chin wobbles against a kneecap, thinking. ]

Hey, can I touch it?

[Aki doesn't quite think it would "change everything" so much as "end everything." Which... Maybe ending is a state of change, but it still doesn't sound right. That Denji, of all people, is able to understand it is a little odd to her, but... There must have been some point that she wasn't like this, right? Some point where she was a normal human kid, being gross and nasty without a devil for a heart. For some reason, it makes her sad to imagine.]

[She blinks out of it a moment later, surprised by the request.] What? [The mark? Aki seems hesitant, but not so much because of the intimate location. More because - Why does Denji care this much? Hasn't she seen her body before? Her back, at least? She knows she has a flurry of marks all over herself, lighter ones and larger ones, so why does she suddenly care now?]

[That this might be some form of compassion or pity or anything like that... Aki doesn't think so. Doesn't want to think so. It's probaby something only Denji can understand. And she doesn't seem like she's being horny about it. So Aki nods.]

I guess. [And she hooks her finger on the collar of her shirt, keeping it pulled down to reveal the small scar. That's all she wants, right? Her scar.]

[ Why is she here, why is she shifting in, why is she pressing into the pale plummet between Aki's breasts, dead center, sliding south to that darkened score in her skin? Why's she so nervous?

To begin with, does it have to matter that much?

Her fingers recoil into a tucked fist immediately after touching down on the scar, briefly stricken by how warm her skin is. Warmer than how her hands felt before. She avoids eye contact, lips pressed tight. After a strained second, she seems to vault over whatever mental block was in her way and reaches over again, pairing her middle and index fingers together to tentatively settle at the spot. It really is barely there. Gently rubbing in a circle, as Aki did earlier to blend away her blemishes, proving that these things could be hidden. That fear is something that could be shed, too. ]

Da-dan… Death — go away! Pain — no more!

[ She mumbles an incomprehensible series of words, then darts in to push her lips against the small depression. It's chaste and short, hardly a countable measurement of time, before she jerks herself back. Red in the face as she forces herself to explain. ]

Um, I knew a nice lady who used to do that whenever she saw I had a new scab or somethin'. [ Chant a spell and then kiss the boo-boo away, that's what she did. She was one the prostitutes that frequented the hideout the yakuza would use from time to time. Would shoo her off whenever it got too late at night. ] I used 'ta think she was just trying to steal 'em from me, but she said that it's no good for girls to get hurt. That I gotta take care of myself, so that when I get older I'll find a guy who'll wanna take care of me, too.

[ Had her cards come crashing down differently, Denji would have carried her scars the same way. They would have kept her company like this, maybe she wouldn't remember how she received every one, wouldn't want to, but they'd be a part of her. Probably, she'd have more of them than Aki by the time she grew as old as her.

Maybe the lady's trick meant nothing, but it used to make the sting of her scrapes taste sweeter whenever she'd suck on them. ]

…When I gave my eye away, I used to feel it hurting a lot, even though it wasn't there anymore. I can't remember if scars are the same way, but y'know, just in case.

[She expected a poke, or something. A brief prod of her finger into the center of Aki's skin, over a mark she no longer shivers when she sees. There's no pain associated with it anymore, the memory nothing more than a lesson to her current and future self to guard against going easy - against letting said guard down.]

[But her guard is down, in this moment. She's had two beers and they're not talking about anything actually serious. Denji's already seen her tit today and she isn't thinking anything else about it. So when Denji suddenly leans down and plants a kiss against that speck, it's hard to say which of them has turned a brighter shade of red.]

[Even as she explains herself, talks about her eye (she gave away an eye?!) and its phantom pain... It's not the same, Aki thinks she would explain if her mind was operating properly. This kind of thing, it shouldn't fluster her so much. Himeno did way worse things to her boobs before she finally let him have sex with her. This - it's a chaste, purposeful kiss, meant nonsexually and for a silly, childish reason.]

[So why did her lips feel like that?]

...You don't think I take care of you?

[It comes out unbidden and unplanned and even Aki hears how pouty that sounds, moody and selfish. It's not even the point of what Denji was saying but somehow that's the first point she feels needs to be addressed. That Aki totally takes care of her.]

I mean - If you're going to do that to any of them... It should probably be this one.

[She lifts the hem of her shirt, revealing the still-red, puckered scar from Kobeni's knife. Even if it's healed and recovered, the wound is still fresh enough to be bright with blood near the surface.]

Or are you going to do that for every single one?

[ What did she just say? The edges of Denji's eyes expand, about to take Aki's question as an accusation or a preempt to a scolding. In other words, an attack to take the defensive approach to. She's too slow to cover her ass, though, because suddenly her roommate's saying this and doing that, and it's like she's being ambushed from every direction in the cruelest kind of guerilla warfare imaginable.

Aki pins half her shirt up, nearly revealing the shapely curve of her breast; just a moment ago, it was Denji's hand there sliding up her side, touching that old wound, so what's with the white noise jamming any attempt she makes to think? Is this just Aki's way of making a fool of her again?

Finally, she can't take it any more. ]

But you just said…!

[ Her brow flickers, hesitation delaying the finishing of the thought. That was the worst one — but then, the one she's showing her right now is the also the one Denji's directly responsible for. The new skin, tender and sensitive, as thin as the plastic film they place over a plate of leftovers to keep it from going bad. Back then, she told her that her repayment would be in the form of dealing with Eternity, letting herself maw and be mawed by that coward devil.

She's not sure if Aki ever confirmed that it was enough. She just figured her debt was resolved…

Seeming to come to some kind of conclusion on her own, Denji gulps and makes a pulled back expression, like a puppy whose ears are nearly sunken to her head, who knows she's on the verge of being shamed and punished. Directed to her crate for the night. This time, when her mouth intersects with Aki's scar, her lips slightly part and pucker around the skin, pulling a gentle fold of it into her mouth without meaning to. It's salt that prickles her taste buds — also a hint of something chemical. Could be from her body lotion? Whatever it is, it smells better than it permeates her tongue. Maybe that's why Denji's nose nudges up into her armpit and she takes the huge breath that she does before pulling off from her.

"Pulling off", but she doesn't even really get but a few centimeters away. ]

If I do this to your other ones… uh, is that considered collecting interest?

[Her lips just shouldn't feel like that. It wouldn't matter if Denji refused, in truth - Aki would have pulled her shirt down and gone on with her night. Finished her beer, got up and pissed, went to bed. It wouldn't have mattered. But she doesn't refuse and her lips feel like that. The light press, a ghost of moisture, of pressure. It shouldn't feel like that. The hair on the nape of her neck stands high and she feels goosebumps sprout up her arms, amplified when she feels and hears the way Denji takes in her scent as she sits back - but only so far.]

[Collecting interest, huh? Is that how she'd convince herself? It's not quite what she was thinking, making her do this, but it's funny that Denji is also trying to convince herself of the acceptability of this situation. If they keep lying to one another about the reason for doing this, does that make it okay? That sort of thing. She wants to milk it for all it's worth, because it's not common that she sees Denji like this. Docile. Appeasing. Cowed. Her ears pinned to her head, whale eyes filled with nerves as she keeps a look out for a dirty left hook. It shouldn't make her feel so...]

Something like that.

[She doesn't lower her shirt, instead cinching it up higher to reveal the rest of her stomach, toned and flat and carefully chiseled near the center. She doesn't have nearly as many scars here as she does over her arms, on the underside of her legs - but right now she doesn't want Denji to move on to those spots. She wants her here, where the skin is unused to being touched and thus sensitive to every press.]

Go on. [How this turned from a childish game into something like this, she doesn't know. But Aki doesn't question the path she's on very often, just accepts it and keeps her course steady. So long as she's not walking into a volcano, she can always find her way through.]

[ The leash Aki guides her by is barely discernible from a thread ready to snap at any second. Solely effective because the separate forces on either end are somehow working together to preserve an impossible tightrope. Really, it's like pouring into a water pitcher that's drooling at the opportunity to overflow; all it'd take to reach that tipping point is for one person to tug too hard, another to resist too fast. Two dogs playing a game of chicken. What could go wrong?

Staring ahead at the naked skin in front of her, Denji's teeth stretches and wears at the bottom of her chapped mouth — it's sick how captivating it is, watching each breath rise from Aki in full, the flex of finely honed muscle moving and tensing like some dormant animal waiting to strike. It makes her abdomen clench, her guts knot. This doesn't feel real. It doesn't matter. She should go to bed. She doesn't want to, doesn't want to care or reconsider when she could touch her lips to hot oil and taste the instant her tongue burns instead. ]

Looks just like milk bread… Mmm.

[ Aki's stomach is strong, but it dips under the burden of her hungry mouth, still human and still soft at the end of it all, no matter how much she trains or nurtures her body. How much of herself she disposes to the next devil she contracts with. Hand holding her hip, Denji drags kisses down a smooth and flat midsection that may be empty now, but who can say what the terrain will look like in a year? Two years? Not that it's any of her business what happens — but now that she's here, bruising her lips against her skin, it's got her thinking: If someone were to cut Aki open again, maybe it wouldn't be a bad thing. If it gave her an excuse to do this a second time.

At her bellybutton, Denji pauses. Then, hazarding a look upward, she licks her lips before pressing into the small crevice — she doesn't know much about childbirth, but she knows that all babies used to be connected to their mommies at this place once. So surely there's a scar inside here, too. Just really far in, beyond what the eye can see. Her mouth parts, aligning with the edges to the opening, and she flicks her tongue inside, lapping at the interior lining. ]

[Aki has similar thoughts: If, the next mission they have, a devil were to slice her down the middle, would it be so awful, if it means pulling Denji down to the floor and pinning her under her legs, pushing her nose into the injury like shoving a naughty dog into the mess it's made? Even if it's not her fault, even if Aki takes responsibility for all the things that have happened to her body, it's a tempting idea, to let someone else take responsibility, and thus heal them. How, instead of looking at them in the shower as she scrubs her body, she could trace them in the bath and remember what Denji's lips felt like in that particular moment.]

[Or tongue. She slides her tongue into her belly button and Aki nearly responds with violence, has the brief instinct to yank her back by the hair and sneer in her face, insult her, call her disgusting. Don't touch there, there's nothing there. It shouldn't feel like anything. But none of this should feel like anything and yet it does, and with Denji already at the crest of her hips, it's all too tempting to edge her further along.]

You know there's more.

[Spoken as fact. At some point she's leaned back and down onto her elbows, gazing at Denji over the rise of her chest, down the slope of her stomach. She pushes herself up off one elbow to reach down and snag the edge of her pants, tugging it down - but leaving her panties in place, just revealing the skin down her hips and thighs. On the inside of the left one is an inch-long scar, curving right along the bone, like someone attempted to slice along the top of her femur and dislodge her leg from the rest of her body. Unsuccessful, obviously, but the mark remains, and Aki stares at Denji, daring her. Or maybe ordering her, is more like it, since this isn't exactly a dare she'll trade for a truth instead.]

[ Ever since Power was appointed as her buddy, they don't work the field as much together unless it's a riskier assignment calling for the involvement of the whole team. It's a waste of manpower, otherwise, is how Aki explained it to her once, seeming rather annoyed that she didn't already understand something so simple. Tokyo's a sprawling place; people would die in droves if they didn't spread out the oversight of each case and neighborhood between pairs across the special divisions. Whatever, it wasn't like she missed having Aki's rule-abiding presence looming behind her shoulder. Her jerking Denji back by the collar every time she steps out of line. Her…

If not for Emi-chan requesting her bodyguards be able to blend in, which would have been difficult to achieve with Angel's appearance and Power's everything, she would have forgotten how much that look could seriously piss her off. That dark, pointed one that Denji can never refute nor refuse, that already seems to know that she's helpless to do anything but act as ordered. Heel. Bark. Bite.

Her cheek brushes against the open plane of her belly as she pulls away, the warm glaze of spit that dribbles between her mouth and Aki's well-formed core cools in seconds. Denji doesn't think anything of how she must look, her thoughts tarrying on how she'd almost felt her flinching, sucking her stomach in when she'd breached that hollow spot — but then Aki's nudging her toward the next course in this experience. Denji doesn't keep her waiting long. She inhales as her mouth skims the rest of her navel, the waist of her underwear, could hook her teeth through the trim and rip it down, really, really breathe her in — if she wanted to. She doesn't, of course. ]

They really got ya good. Must'a hurt.

[ Said, almost admiring whoever the perpetrator was. The scar's somewhat distended, fitting underneath her thumbnail as she strokes up and down the path it wraps across her thighbone — she only does this for a moment, her lips lowering to where the scar begins, following that same trail. Denji slides down its length, slow and generous with the amount time she spends at each interval she kisses into the long-healed lesion, one hand slid up her ass, the other tilting the hind of her leg to grant her easier access. ]

Mm, you said there was more. Where else?

[She's right there. It would take no effort at all. To simply slide her underwear aside, grab the back of Denji's head and shove her face into her pussy, tell her to lick just like she did a moment ago in her navel. Because what's most shameful about this is that she can feel herself getting wet, can feel the telltale sensation of warmth in her loins that tells her she's excited, aroused by the sight below her, the way Denji lays her lips on her skin and travels the marks on her body. She wants to roll her over, pin her down onto the floor and sit on her face, watch her struggle to breathe while she tries to do everything right. Always looking for a sign that she's doing it right.]

[She's dizzy. With the combination of arousal and booze, she feels like she could do it. Coax Denji onward, point her to where she wants her next. How this started - from a simple question of scars and marks, what hurt the most, what scared her the most - now it's about what's most exciting, what spot brought her the most pleasure, the most heat. Grabbing the wheel and spinning completely around, a full one-eighty turn. Normally she's a safe driver.]

Yeah.

[Aki reaches down. She places her hand on the back of Denji's head, sliding her fingers through her hair, stroking it back into a position she can hold it, can better steer.]

There's more than just scars and marks to a body, Denji.

[Because Denji has none and Aki has enough. If she wants to learn what makes them different - this won't do that, but she'll take any excuse right now, tugging her toward the crotch of her panties, pressing her nose into it. On contact her hips rock upward, gentle, pressing the slight wet spot into her face. Her hand stays tight, guiding. It's guiding.]

Here, too.

[ Denji's head rolls back with the pressure, not knowing what to expect, but innately understanding what was expected of her, and not to fight it. To keep going, keep doing it right, regardless of what insanities Aki tells her to commit.

For a passingly curious moment, she mistakes the hand in her tangled hair for a fonder touch, a gentler one, something meant for her. Bodies aren't just bulletin boards for human pains and accidents, she knows that, knows there should be tons of things that help you feel good, like a surprise gift or masturbating. Yet she looks up at Aki like this is newfound knowledge. Theory put into practice. Her stomach twists in a different way than it had before, singing with a bittersweetness that engulfs her whole torso, bleaches into her bones, holds her heart captive —

It doesn't matter how safe a driver someone is if their car engine's smoking from under the hood. If their passenger refuses to wear a seat belt. ]

Huh…?!

[ The instant Aki pushes her head down, Denji gasps open-mouthed into her covered cunt, eyesight nearly going white hot as a damp and sour musk infiltrates and overloads her senses. Her throat. Nose pressed into the warm cavity, she can't even bare to think of recoiling from it all, this sensation of being swaddled in a cloying musk. Part of it's because she's so seized by shock, but the feeling is muddled by — shuddering relief, too. ]

Holy shit, you're… melting, [ she moans in-between her legs. And then her mouth is moving, stretching through the fabric, tipping in to suck one of her folds apart from the other. Her own thighs squirm and squelch with an emptiness that positively hurts. She laps at barrier in frustration, spit and a very different stickiness pooling, intermixing, growing the stain through her panties. ]

[Stupid. Shew knew it. She knew she'd take the offer, right when it was made. She had no doubts. Not a single one. Denji barrels into her and Aki leans back on her arm, the hand in her hair clenching tight as she groans under her breath. The way she sucks at her, how she can feel her lips through the fabric, the way it all sticks to her skin... Fuck, this is stupid. Fuck, she should stop her. She tugs her closer, presses her face in deeper.]

[Aki isn't sure when she was last eaten out, but she's at least sure she wasn't this wet and - melting, as Denji succinctly put it. She can feel it on her thighs, all along her panties, inside of herself even with that thin fabric keeping her held back. Habit tells her to lay flat to give her the best angle but her id tells her to keep watching, take in this rare scene. No, actually, it's not rare. Denji scarfing down a meal is far from rare, commonplace, even. So what is it about this that she can't tear her eyes away from?]

[Her shirt is half-pulled up and her entire body feels damp, mixed with sweat and Denji's saliva and arousal, combining into some kind of hedonistic perfume. Aki rocks her hips up into her face, shoving her closer, pulling her in, then finally lets go of her hair to reach around and tug the fabric aside with a huff, a sort of surrender. Like she wasn't intending to give Denji more than a few bites and is finally passing over the whole plate - who is she fooling with this? Even she can feel how the heat in her face has gotten all the way to the tips of her ears.]

Do it good and I'll finger you. [A harried, off-the-cuff offer, not one she's thought about for more than half a second. It's not like Denji even needs an offer like that. Given how she dove right in, she's pretty sure she'd do this for free. But she's a dog, through and through, and dogs are good at working towards a reward. Even if they don't know how good the reward is.]

[ She doesn't like girls.

She may have eyed Aki's lean figure once or twice after a training session in the past, watched overly close at how her stomach stretched and strained with each movement, lingered too long whenever she'd fix her hair up, sweat clearing down her irritatingly long nape, sure, who cares. She still doesn't think she likes girls. Not even when she's twitching a finger against her clit, imagining the pulse of something thicker and slicker and prettier, a rouged mouth leaving spit prints against the lips of her pussy, blue eyes fogging up her vision.

But she doesn't hate Aki, either. Doesn't — can't hate being here, so close to a flexing, aching cunt warming her face, within reach of her tongue, or even the idea that in a couple of moments Aki could be knuckle-deep inside of her, pumping her fingers, a puzzle that can only be solved with brute force. A little bit of elbow grease. Not when just thinking about her hands turns her on, electrifies her nerves, makes her crotch sore for friction, a good wrench to screw her runny pipes.

Denji isn't even being dragged down this time. It's her own eagerness that lurches her forward too aggressive, eyes watering, choking and wheezing on the full presence of Aki's vulva pressed into her mouth, licking up her seam, the hard arch of hips slamming into her front teeth. She doesn't like girls, but she likes that. Likes the sound of Aki's airless sounds flooding her ears, likes how it feels to flatten palm up her heaving curves, groping at the underside of her breast. Feels as plush and full as she always knew it would be. ]

Mm — take this off. [ It's exciting seeing the imprint of her nipples poking through her shirt, bob with pleasure, but she wants more. Always wants more. ] You… didn't lemme look long 'nuff before.

[ That's enough talking. Her drenched chin tries to tilt back into rhythm with Aki's rocking, tongue finally breaching her insides. The taste is sweeter. Strange and addictive — it's not something she can buy at the convenience store or find in any old restaurant. It's better. ]

[As her hands roam while her mouth makes direct contact, Aki can feel her arm slipping, the muscle keeping her body upright threatening to surrender. The direct heat is almost too much, too quick and wet and slobbery - overwhelming. Her whole body is inflamed and it's making her see stars, how hungry she is down there. When her hands reach her chest and fondle for better access, she only hesitates for a moment, a brief glare. Reminding her of how she'd yanked on her shirt earlier isn't exactly a good memory to share in this moment, but she doesn't argue for now, releasing her to yank her shirt upright and over her chest. Her breasts spill out of the fabric, nipples full and pert and standing tall as a light sheen of sweat shines on the high points, where the light hits harshest.]

[Then Denji's tongue presses in and her eyes widen in shock. Aki stumbles at last, at first roughly catching herself before carefully lowering herself onto the floor, her arm shaking and shivering as Denji fucks her tongue into her warmth. She can feel her head going white, her thighs quivering, pressing open wider for more access - more, fuck, she's going to come, and come from this. This was never on her bucket list. What the hell is she doing?]

The clit - My clit - [She stutters the order out, reaching down with an impatient hand to run circles over her nub, herself, ekeing out that extra pleasure that makes her toes curl. Her fingers aren't well choreographed in the moment, not while Denji is doing this well, her thighs tense and hard and spasming from pleasure. She just can't get there. The peak is so close, but even when she lifts her head to see Denji, her lips parted as silent gasps spill out - Fuck, she's so close. Almost glaring at her, it's maybe a blessing she doesn't have the wherewithal to demand, Do it right.]

[ Aki's tits sag down from the shirt, and Denji's gaze nearly rolls up into her skull trying to get a nice eyeful. A whine drags out of her throat, low and pained, reverberating like a static shock connecting both their bodies as her tongue bends, keeps thrusting inward. She looks good like that: disheveled, undressed — better than any of the models printed to the magazine covers under her pillow. It's so unfair that she can't do a single thing about it right now. Can't stare long enough. Can't file the blueprint away for her own casual viewing. It's like leaving milk soaking into the table, Aki's tits. Someone needs to clean up the mess.

Too bad she doesn’t have more than one mouth.

Between her incessant rutting and babbling, Denji can tell what she’s chasing after. She considers continuing as is, treating her order like it's a mere suggestion. Her clit, already? She didn’t think Aki would be so easy… But then she’s shoving her digits into her bubble, her territory. In a second, her teeth are nipping at the offending hand.

She glares back at her, as if to say, Don't be so annoying. Power's bad enough about sneaking from her plate, she doesn't need Aki to get in on the habit, too. ]

No…! S'mine!

[ Sticking a hand down her shorts, then out again, Denji thumbs her own slick against Aki's clit, swirling and swirling. The added lubricant is unnecessary when Aki is this wet, but it's dog logic — more to prove a point. Lay claim. Her mouth quickly replaces the motion, lips locking around the pearly roll, squeezing and releasing her in precise intervals; probably much too harsh for an area so sensitive, harsh enough to make her pop, but wouldn't that be just fine? Wouldn't that get them to the same destination? ]

[Denji full-on bites her fingers with those damned devil-like teeth and Aki flinches back, unwilling to let the bite sink too low, possibly damage something more sensitive. She glares down at her, beginning to lean up to snatch her away as retribution, but then her fingers slip her own slick around her, the warmth from Denji, herself, contrasting just enough with her own to make it palpable. Her finger, finally, she thinks, beginning to relent - but then it's not just her fingers. No, then it's her lips, squeezing and sucking and sending her rolling back and gasping so suddenly she chokes on the air that's sucked in. No, no, she wants to snap, not that fast, not that sudden.]

[Aki's hand reaches down to grab at Denji's hair and there's the inclination to yank her off, to pull her backward or to the side and slap her across the cheek, wag a finger at her, bad dog. But instead her hand only clenches into her locks and squeezes weakly, fingers shaking, curling against her scalp without any more force than a gentle headscratch. Her lips feel dry from how much she gasps in air without letting anything out, her hips jerking, flinching, thrusting, meeting every touch with an equal desire to get away and get more. Fuck, she'll choke at this rate. How did this start? This wasn't how it was supposed to go.]

[She can faintly hear herself moaning now, long, low sounds that tell her she has to be close. She wants her back inside again, wants the probing of her tongue, but she wants her here, too, the warm heat and sloppy popping of her lips around her clit, the way she sounds so hungry and starving. Dirty. Lewd. So...]

You -

[It's the last thing she says before the words are gone, no sentence finished, her mind choosing to focus on the rolling pleasure now coarsing through her like a tidal wave finally crashing. All the build-up and pull-back of the sea, finally culminating in the crash, every bit of her tensing up and going taut as she finishes. Her fingers scratch hard into Denji's scalp and she groans loud, heavy, deep. Her chest heaves and her free hand briefly covers her eyes.]

[Fuck. Fuck, she thinks, still panting and gasping. How the fuck did this stupid dog manage to hit her just right?]

[ All she feels is a current of skin coaxing her inside. Stretching, squirming, digging her close, making her lips flush like she just bit into a juicy nectarine that won't stop leaking all over her chin. And that's fine. She mouths hard at that pink marble, holding it like it’s something she shouldn’t have, like someone will demand she spit it out once they realize — that not only is she a stupid dog, but she's a carnivorous one. Throw her a bone and she'll try to swallow it whole. But even a stupid dog, drowning in its own excess, its own good fortune, can make out something is happening.

Almost misses what it is, exactly, though. She's gotten herself off, but Denji’s never made anyone else come before. Never known that kind of gratification from this proximity. Never been the catalyst, the root of somebody's desire.

Aki makes a hurt sound, and, idiotically, she thinks maybe she really nicked her good. Her tongue swirls around the her bud in staccato strokes like she's tasting for iron, doesn't let up even as Aki's drooling cunt trembles and clenches. Nothing. No blood. Her eyes drift to watch her for some type of signal, another command, but it's that moment she sees it. The contortion of her body, crushed and battered, like a piece of lumber spinning into a tide pool with no way out but down, down, down, and there's Denji riding that current with her, sinking her tongue in right before the wave breaks. Aki could have launched completely upright, shoved her down to hump into her face like it's just a pillow to help take the edge off, and Denji would have thrown herself back for her. A dog laid out in the middle of oncoming traffic with its belly faced up.

When it's over, Denji gives one last excruciating suck before popping back, dazed. Cheek resting on Aki's inner thigh. Well, more like slumped. Crashed out. ]

You… Did you pee a little? Tasted funny. A good funny…

Edited 2024-08-30 17:47 (UTC)

[Her body twitches with the aftershocks, the continued numbness and sparks of pleasure that ebb and flow like the waves after a strong storm. So weak you're surprised there even was a storm, even with the wreckage it left lingering behind you. Denji slumps onto Aki's thigh and she looks down, blinking in slow-minded recognition. What is she saying...? She doesn't know. Doesn't really care.]

[It takes her a few moments to recover, for the breaths to simmer and her pulse to calm. She's still sensitive and feels cold and shivery all over, it's been awhile since anyone gave her oral like that, but it's not enough to make her simply roll over and sleep. No, she's dealt with devils that rolled her over worse than this one. Pushing herself up onto a weak arm, she grabs at Denji by the collar of her shirt and pulls her up, yanking her over herself and falling back once she's close enough for her other hand to dig into her panties.]

Take 'em off. [She doesn't have the hands for it, or the dexterity, to finagle her pants down at the moment, nor is she willing to slow down to let that happen. Leaning up and into her throat while keeping her shirt tugged down, Aki pulls Denji's throat to her lips, licking and kissing and sucking at the exposed skin as she presses two fingers against her clit, sliding through her slit to gather her wetness. Her hand still feels a little shaky, her skin still electric from the orgasm, but she doesn't slow down or stop. She tests stroking through her lips but doesn't press in, moving instead back to her clit to fondle it as her teeth play at the thin skin of her neck.]

[ She thinks about sex all the time, with the oftenness of someone with an affliction, an addiction to the human body. All the microscopic ways you can dismantle a person, make them stress their limits, bend, and fold in defeat. Feel good about it. It's crossed her mind.

But as Aki grabs her and she launches forward, confused alarm spreads across her red-battered face, followed closely by the onset of a realization. She'd nearly forgotten about it. The trade Aki'd thrown out there, careless as a bone, like she didn't think it mattered a single bit. And maybe Denji hadn't cared that much about what she'd get in return, either. Just wanted to do well, feel well. And maybe that's why she'd forgotten about it, why her hands close around Aki's elbows, trying to brace and push back against them. ]

H-Hey! Watch it, don't, ah, ah, ahnnn —

[ Her cries skip out, the scratch of a record that keeps rewinding itself, before succumbing into pathetic mewls, a long string of saliva sticking to her back teeth, mouth opening up so, so wide. Fuck, she sounds like a slut. The waist of her panties squeezes into her hips, the front material bulging with the fit of Aki's hand — without thinking, her own hand clamps on top, trying to urge her touch in. She hasn't even breached past her folds yet, but just the light tracing of her fingers, the friction at her clit, turns her inside out, nipples buttoning through her shirt as she arches into Aki's naked chest.

She wants more. If the nipping at her neck weren't sucking the air clean from her windpipe, weren't vibrating from the impatient whine leaking out from her, Denji would tell her that. For now, she can only wriggle her underwear looser down her legs, ignoring the snap of threading as it stretches around her soaked thighs. ]

[Dirty bitch, Aki thinks without meaning to. She doesn't really demean Denji like this very often, usually goes with more specific insults or frustrated noises, but hearing the way she vocalizes from a touch that hasn't even gone deep enough to get her off... Maybe she didn't expect it, maybe it jumped to the surface from that surprise. Maybe. But her panties are down and she has a better reach now and even though her hand is grabbing at Aki's, she doesn't move in response to it, simply presses two fingers against her fold before hooking sharply up and pressing the tips into her cunt.]

[She keeps the fingers shallow, not attempting to fully break her open nor even find out if she is. Instead it's more like teasing, tasting, getting a sample. She's caught Denji masturbating enough times by now but she's never sounded like this, never sounded so - feral. So...]

[Hot. It's kind of hot. When she traces her teeth along the line of her throat, she can feel every echo and vibration with each noise she makes. Pushing herself up on still-shaky legs, she stretches them out to coax Denji in closer, over her lap so she can really watch her squirm.]

On your knees. Up. [A barked, expectant order is all the warning she gets before Aki pulls her in close, wrapping her arm around her back while the other continues its shallow fingering. Is she holding back a bit? Maybe. Maybe to make up for that, she kisses up her chin - but maybe that's also an excuse to stay close so she can hear every hitch of her breath.]

[ Vision blurry, breath little more than a whimper, the lips of her pussy fluttering around the fingers dipped inside her — that's the state Denji's in as she totters to her knees, gawkily positioning herself above Aki's extended legs. She can barely keep herself upright.

It's true that Aki has barely done anything to her besides test and taunt, but the heat wetting her groin is still overwhelmingly opposite from having her own fingers blindly scissoring her insides. No, the pressure is different, too sweet. Pleasurable, for once.

Denji's never been good at that part. The penetration. When she was just beginning to learn her body, she didn't really even know which hole was the one that was supposed to feel good, kept switching between her anus and her cunt, and then when she figured it out, she couldn't understand why it didn't feel… more. She wondered if girls had a secret third place no one told her about, if she was going deep enough, if she was brave enough to push in deeper. Or if this was another place she was defunct.

Rubbing her clit, though, that one's always been easy. Straightforward. While Aki fingers her entrance, slicked with excess moistness, a groan wisps out of her as she curls her middle finger toward that red and erect place, so stupidly primed for abuse. Her other hand skims up Aki's side, squeezing around one of her plush tits. She could come with just this, just the the groping, the petting of Aki's fingers.

But that's not what she wants. Denji pants, staring down her nose at Aki, tongue nearly lolled out. ]

Um… You — gonna stick it in or what…?

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