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

[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…?

[Yet again, she wants to snap something back at her, frustration clear from the glint in her eye when Denji dares to speak up, to urge her on towards a specific task. In this situation? Seriously? Denji's never even seen a breast in real life before this that didn't belong to her mom or live in a magazine, and now she wants to coax Aki along.]

[But she drops her gaze after a moment of returning her stare with a cold one of her own, looking at the hand on her chest, grasping her boob.]

You're squeezing.

[Like this is an answer to why she hasn't "stuck it in" yet. Sitting back with an annoyed sigh, Aki reaches to the hem of Denji's shirt and yanks it upward, pulling it free in a way that has little concern for the head and arms she has to navigate to get it off. If the fabric rips or pulls out of shape due to the tug, so be it. Tossing it away, she instead wraps a hand around one of Denji's breasts, cupping the smaller flesh and rubbing her thumb over the nipple, all while gently stroking the lips of her labia without pressing in. She might have rushed out her own orgasm, either due to Aki's demanding or from her own lack of experience, but she has no desire to rush this one, in turn.]

Gentle. Like this. [And she continues stroking and groping her chest, all the while dragging her fingers along the rim of her cunt, right where the muscle begins to grow tighter.]

Squeezing what — aah?!

[ As the screechy pitch of her yelp indicates, Denji's visibly caught off guard, arms whipping up, face scrunching with the forceful discarding of her top. It's not really that she'd intended to help Aki along, it was more like — like when you keep passing by the same expensive dress that somebody else is busy handling, so when you see nobody's there, nothing's in your way anymore, you pounce on the opportunity to coast a grubby hand over its detailed stitching. Rub your fingers at the cool skin of something you'd never normally be able to afford in your lifetime.

Aki's an old crone who gets her pussy wet on hunting devils, dreaming of herself impaling that Gun with a blade. But sometimes it's hard to look away from her when her eyes get dark and freezing, clouded and focused. Even harder to resist touching her, imagining that she could use some warming up, imagining it'd be an easy thing to fix if Denji could just lay her hands on her.

So, a selfish compulsion. That's all it was.

Denji nearly doubles over when Aki feels her perking chest, cheek brushing against Aki’s as she hunches down. Her eyes water, embarrassed. Getting turned on by the embarrassment, the torturous slide of her fingers. Fuck. Damn it, her touch couldn't be more light, so why does it hurt as bad as a bruise?

When her hand finds Aki's breast again, she mirrors her careful example, making sure she's only loosely massaging her, a soft nipple pinched between her thumb and forefinger. Ducking her face in, Denji's lips press to Aki's shoulder. ]

N-Nn… More. You're bein' mean…

[Monkey see, monkey do. Denji's next touch is much gentler, softer, pleasant. Even with her bending into her shoulder and pressing against her, Aki still has plenty of space to continue playing with her chest, arching her own back to give Denji lots of room to toy with hers. She wants to say something about Denji learning by example, that it's not about force so much as intent - but then she's complaining, calling Aki mean, and... Gently, quietly, with a slight shake of her shoulders, she laughs.]

That's good. [She kisses at her temple, rolling her hard nub with her thumb as her other fingers continue to stroke her opening.] Good girl. Here. [And, like it's a reward, she presses in, sliding a single finger into her cunt and hooking it forward. The second joins after just a moment and Aki begins gently thrusting, curling them against her inner walls, rubbing all along her insides as she leans her head against hers, other hand holding steadfast to her chest to keep her anchored in place, but it's not sturdy enough and she doesn't need Denji collapsing on her, especially in this position. She really should have kept her on the floor, but it's too late for that. So...] Wrap your arms around my shoulders.

[ Aki spares a kiss to the side of her head, like she's done this before and knows all the sweetest words to whisper to make a girl melt like chocolate in her arms. It's impossible to concentrate or make sense of anything besides that sense of connection, not even the pang of want and something else, something more confusing, swarming her chest, making her ears buzz — that is, until she feels it. The push of a finger inside her. A second one. Then, the dragging, the angled thump of her palm squelching against her juices, through it — she's finger-fucking her, but there's not a mean thing about it.

Denji's breathing puffs out erratically, edging on hyperventilation. She can't seem to relax, thighs densely compressing around Aki's wrist, barely giving her space to pulse in and out. And what leeway she has is making her legs shake already. The opening to cling to her is all but welcome. Her arms swing around Aki's neck as she crumples forward, nearly bears all her weight down on her hand, gasping roughly into the underside of her jaw. ]

It — hurts.

[ Does that sound too much like she's being a baby? ]

A little. But I'll kick your ass if you stop.

[It hurts, Denji says, and there's a brief, barely-there pause to her motions. It's easy to forget, easy to ignore considering what Denji is, but it's still true - she's a kid. A stupid-ass teen with a body only explored by her own hand. Aki remembers it, herself, the first time she was touched by someone else and felt the hard, sturdy press of fingers inside her, replaced with something thicker. The shock, the discomfort - pain. So Denji says it hurts and Aki believes her, but also continues after the pause, sliding her fingers out before pushing them back in, fucking her pussy in a constant motion.]

[Because right after comes the threat she expected, the same one she felt when it hurt that first time. Yes, it hurts, but the good weighs out the bad. The pleasure overwhelms anything bad - and she's sure Denji agrees. Decides she does, anyway, humming in recognition at her words as she continues to finger her open.]

You're so wet... [She wants to add in something rude, a cruel comment about it, her lips forming around the words, but she gives up on it, huffing a sound kind of like a sneer before tilting her chin for Denji to fit herself against.] Look at you. [As if she could. Even with a mirror, she's not sure Denji could comprehend how she looks, bent over on her knees, clinging to Aki's form while her fingers sink into her over and over. Her thumb nudges against her clit, unsteady and rolling against the nail, but the pressure is what she's after and once she has a good position, she pushes the nub hard against her as her fingers jut in deeper, seeking. All while her other hand continues to gently knead her breast.] Bet you'll squirt, at this rate - You nasty girl.

[Dirty talk isn't her specialty, but Denji always seems to appreciate verbal support, words of praise and kind epithets. Puppy, good girl, pet - All the stuff she probably gets off to hearing Makima call her. But right now, she'll have to deal with Aki's voice instead.]

[ Nasty girl.

And yet it's every word that parts from Aki's filthy mouth that soils her thighs, her grimy fingers stuffed inside Denji's exposed cunt, her handiwork that's drawn continuous moans from her sore throat as the very essence of her heats, and aches, and craves for more. More delicious friction, more of Aki's touch: the good, the bad, the even worse. If Denji's nasty, what does that say about the person who willingly submerges her hands in all her mess?

Without consciously realizing it, Denji bounces on her curved finger, hips rocking, cries hiccuping from her chest like she was born for exactly this. To suffer her degradation, to sing for it — a music box just for Aki.

It's madness. She never thought she'd be into getting punched down and called names by her superior. When she imagines Makima sweet talking her, it's always rich honey in her ears, nice things, romantic things, but maybe it's the dissonance of hearing Aki's every day impatience and irritation mingled in with an uncommon breathlessness to her voice as she serves to fulfill Denji's need. Maybe that's what's getting her off, what keeps her trapped in the frantic movement of their bodies, froth gathering at the rim of where her hole and the stretch of Aki's two digits meet. Lathering the entirety of her palm at this point.

Aki's right. She probably could squirt. ]

Make me —

[ That's what she begins to say, forceful, like it's a challenge, but then Aki strokes in deep at one particular spot and her mouth twists into a grimace, her gaze staggering upwards for a split second. ]

Hnngh, please, please, make me —

[ She licks her tongue up Aki's cheek, knee pushing its way into the apex of Aki's own legs, like she's pressuring her on. Begging Aki to sully her even further, past the brink. ]

[It reminds her of seeing Denji in the midst of a fight, when her face is obscured by some metallic helmet. She can't see her eyes then and she can't see them now, thanks to how close they are, but she's always wondered what her expression must be like. Delight or terror, pleasure or pain. Some mix of these opposites in a disturbing stew. She licks up her face and it strenghtens the feeling that this is exactly like combat, her tongue lolling out, her body quivering, legs fighting for purchase into a spot Aki knows from experience won't give her a solid hold. Without thinking she lowers her hand to wrap around Denji's back, holding her up. She may be tense, but she might not be for long.]

Dirty girl. [She repeats the brand of insult in lieu of anything better. It's good she already came, that Denji pushed her so far over the edge that this certainly won't work her up. If she got turned on not just from the way Denji kissed her body but from the way she quivered and shook on her hand - No, she's definitely not. Definitely not storing away every sound and every hitch of breath on its own mental CD, carefully labeled and placed on a spindle.]

[It's embarrassing, the kinds of emotions this stupid brat brings to the surface in her.]

[Her fingers continue to mercilessly pump in and out, fucking into her deepest reaches and hooking close to pulse against the edges of her body, all while her thumb presses hard against her clit, hitting it like a button that's bright red and warning you not to. She can feel her wetness coating every inch of her hand, over her palm and nearly up to the wrist.]

Then come, already. Hurry up. Come, right now. [She turns her head to look down at her, tilting her chin up like she's coaxing a dog forward, ordering it with only a look, cold and commanding. Because that's what she wants, Aki's decided. Someone to order her around. That's always what she wants. Aki will play the role, if she must. The heat in her cheeks at seeing Denji belie the lie, but she still speaks sternly like it's all true.] Come, you mutt.

[ This time, Denji babbles in assent to the sound of her own lampooning, as if each insult is praise to be digested in full. The pleasure washing down whatever offense roused, turning it instead into a reason to keep going, to see this through, to take her satisfaction by any means possible — after all, it's not something given away freely, without cost. So, by that logic, she shouldn't have to shoulder the guilt that always looms in that back corner of her heart, decrying her enjoyment of every day things. Like sweets from the convenience store, or staying up late to catch one more episode.

Sex. Sharing candy with someone.

She's paying her dues, that's all. That's how she justifies herself, and justifies holding on to a frigid woman who can't stand her. But with their bodies right on each other, stretching and melted together into one wriggling mass, cheeks flushed, she — she sure is warm. She almost looks like she's having fun, calling her a mutt and demanding her release.

Throwing her head back, Denji groans loud, countering the sloppy beating of her fingers with her own violent and out-of-time grinding, like she's trying to take in more than what's been offered to her. Like she wants each crank that keeps winding her up, the unbearable pressure that heats every section of her stomach, to hurt. Just an acceptable amount, just to help her hold off for one last spike of bliss and prolong this moment as much as she can. Which isn't long, she knows. The agonizing flick of her clit's getting her light-headed, causing her hips buck and shiver and jump more frequently with the pull of a higher calling. It's coming. It's coming. But before it's too late, she still has something to do.

Scrabbling for Aki's jaw, she forces her face into a tilt and kisses her, urgently dragging her up by the bottom lip, suckling and suckling, trying to taste as much as she can. Badly, bruisingly, but completely. Her brow knits in concentration, dead set on getting this one correct. No interruptions. And, oh, oh, that feels — ]

Fuck, coming, fuck! A-Aki, I'm —

[ Aki thrusts true to a place she can't even name, the tingling in her spine growing until her eyes have glazed over and she's suddenly eye-to-eye with the ceiling. A gasp crowns the breath between their lips as what feels like a fist flying through glass shatters straight through her core. Her thighs spasm as she cries so hard she can feel the base of her skull go numb — and in the midst of all that, a hot flood spills from the seam of her cunt, pouring past the fingers still inside her, whole rivulets coiling down Aki's forearm. ]

[It's like everything Denji does, whether it be eating a meal or killing a devil: a beautiful mess. Aki doesn't let up when she can feel how close she is, the way her body shakes and shivers around her and sloppily meets her thrusts but she doesn't expect her to go for her lip in such a dramatic fashion - and nor does she expect her to let go so hard, to spill down her whole hand and arm and into her lap. Aki has the immediate instinct to pull away but manages to bite that down, tilting her head up to watch Denji as her head falls back and she lets those noises resound through the whole room.]

[Their neighbors probably heard that.]

[She slows her movements gradually, first by backing out of her pussy ever so slowly and then by letting go of the pressure on her clit. When she pulls her fingers free she can feel how pruned they are from how long she had them in her, how wet and sloppy she was... Without a thought to whether Denji will care about it, she wraps that arm around Denji's back to coax her into relaxing off her knees, trying to help her settle into her lap.]

[It was kind of impressive. She thought she came hard; Denji always manages to outclass her on things like this, doesn't she? Things that no one else would consider being something to compete against.]

You good...? [Hopefully she didn't snap her neck.]

[ Easily led by the tender touch coaxing her in, Denji sinks into the embrace with one last shaky exhale, still twitching and jolting with the residual high of her release. Before, as their limbs pressed and squirmed together, she could barely cognate anything other than her own profound need. But now it's difficult not to be overly conscious of everything. The wet tack layering her thighs, viscid, as she adjusts to sitting in her lap. The dark hair-tips stuck to her cheek as she shapes herself into the crook of Aki's neck. How naked she is, naked they both are.

Denji hoarsely mumbles in answer to the question, but it's nothing audible. Nothing that would have made sense, had she the brain activity to raise her speaking volume a little, either.

Whether she's good or bad — is that even for her to decide?

After a few minutes listening to her heartbeat, feeling it break from its racing gait, she sighs. Wills herself to stay awake, shifting her position slightly to nuzzle directly into Aki's neck, kissing at her pulse point one more time, like it's the last chance she'll get. Then, slowly, her face slides from her jugular, the protrusion of her clavicle, past even the puncture mark that landed them in this situation. She finally stalls between Aki's breasts, seems to take a brief second to consider her next action, before plunging into them with a happy hum as her hands knead the fatty rolls — gentle. Circling at her areolas. Denji, again, playing the monkey.

Truthfully, it's not even a sexual act for her right now; she just wants to keep touching her. Keep exploring. ]

This… is a normal thing for girls to do, right? Right, Aki?

[ This time, her voice rises around part of Aki's pale flesh dragged between her lips, just barely avoiding the more sensitive skin of her nipple. ]

[Ah, she's... a cuddler. She wants to cuddle, or something. Or - What is this called again? Makima calls it something... Skinship? Is that what this is? Aki leans back a little as Denji sets to explore her body, watching her with a mix of annoyance and curiosity. What is it about her body that has her so curious, is what she's curious about. The way she touches her and rolls her breasts in her hands and traces over her nipples - dives in between her chest and seems to be pleased by what she finds there. Which is, what? Skin she can't peel away? Aki isn't sure she wants to know.]

[She raises a hand to push at Denji's head when she starts messing her fingers around her nipples, expecting her to jump for round two. It's right when she has her palm pressed against the side of her head that she asks that idiotic question. Aki raises her eyes up to the ceiling, immediately feeling the exhaustion wash over her.]

[Normal? What the hell is she...]

You never do anything normal.

[And this certainly isn't included. But it's Denji, and Aki is vaguely aware that she isn't asking in a moral or a logical sense. It's something more nebulous than that. If this is the way sex is supposed to be, if being squirted on and then following it up by squirting all over your partner is normal, if enjoying the feeling of breasts in your hand is normal. If touch and connection like this is normal.]

But this isn't that unusual, no.

[So she can take it or leave that. Aki presses at her again, trying to wedge herself out from where she's taken root. The push isn't that hard, however, and it's not just from a lack of wanting to try. Her arms feel shaky, tired. Weak.]

Let me get up and clean up a little... You stink. [She smells kind of like piss which makes sense, but the main issue is that Aki's arm is soaked and sticky and if Denji is going to crawl all over her, she'd rather let her have her fill while she's not dealing with those sensations. This isn't a devil fight, after all. Being soaked and sticky isn't something she can simply put out of her mind for now.] Come on, you can cling to me in the bedroom.

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