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Yuki’s supposed to be in Bali right now.
Her flight took off without her at 6:30 last night after she’d gotten the call about the issue in Shibuya, which quickly turned into a catastrophe, which has now evolved into a shitshow of cataclysmic proportions, to put it mildly. Which is a damn shame, because her beach resort booking was all-inclusive.
So now she’s spending her vacation time in a dungeon, for lack of a better word, and it’s all Geto Suguru’s fault – or rather, the good-for-nothing entity that’s hijacking his body now. She can’t help but think that she might have had something to do with all of this, with the path he took. Maybe if she hadn’t talked him off his ledge and onto another one when he was a kid, none of this would’ve happened. She knew he was young, angry, impressionable, looking for someone to answer for all the loss he’d suffered. But she also knows she’s got a bad habit of making everything about herself.
The others in their ragtag resistance party had departed around an hour ago, leaving her to guard Tengen with that gloomy Death Painting Womb. She wants to ask Tengen more about his barrier and the Star Plasma Vessel, but he disappeared off to some private void a while ago, so it’s just been the two of them doing fuck-all in the chamber. There’s no cell service, so she’s been rereading old texts and phone notes to pass the time; he’s been sitting against the stone wall hugging his knees, staring off into space with a dismal faraway look. He’s not much of a talker.
“Hey.”
He swivels his head around to meet her eyes. He’s handsome, she decides then, despite the whole vampire-chic thing he’s got going on (or maybe because of it). With the flowing robes and the odd little strip of black across his nose, he looks dressed for the initial occasion, like he should’ve been a costumed civilian trapped in Shibuya Station on Halloween night instead of a combatant.
“It’s Choso, right?”
He nods. He’s all sharp jawline and deep-set browbone, the bruise-like circles around his eyes betraying the soft expressiveness within them.
“What kind of woman is your type?”
She can’t remember where she picked up the habit of asking that of every guy she meets – she's pretty sure it was that gorgeous older woman with an undercut who sold her a secondhand bike at a roadside pub in Kyoto years ago – but over time she’s found that it’s really more of a personality test than a genuine question. Even if the examinee’s choice is generic and eyeroll-inducing (big tits, lithe waist, nice ass), she can evaluate in the blink of an eye whether he’s worth any more of her time or not, and in what capacity. Most of them fail, which is always funny to her because for being the dominant species, men sure do have dull tastes and fragile egos. And if they’ve got a real problem with their results and want to get handsy about it, they can answer to her special-grade status.
But sometimes they surprise her, especially other sorcerers. They might completely blow her off without a second thought like Todo-kun did when they met, or even insult her leisurely lifestyle to her face like Geto-kun. Over time, those feisty ones usually turn out to be the major players, the ones that Yuki knows deep down won’t be content to just leave a footprint in the volatile sands of jujutsu legacy. For better or for worse, they’ll be casting themselves in steel.
But Choso just gives her a look, like she’d just asked him something like How do you get your hair all spiky like that? or What’s with the eyebags?
“You’re the only woman I know.”
His voice is deep, just a touch of gravel at the low end of his range.
She smiles.
“I bet you say that to all the girls.”
If this one can’t be scored by the normal criteria, she’ll just have to redesign the test. But that’s fine by her. She needs something to kill time, anyway. And at least in here she can’t get a sunburn.
It’s nearly two in the afternoon now and there’s been no sign of danger or an all-clear knocking on the door of the corridor. They still haven’t really spoken; Yuki’s decided that after Choso’s initial dismissal, she was going to sit and wait him out, just to see what happens.
A small drop of red pools at the corner of his nose bandage as he lays on his back with his knees bent, creating mid-air designs with tendrils of his own blood. He’s started writing out the kanji for some names, one right after the other: Eso, Kechizu, Noranso, Shouso, Tanso, Sanso, Kotsuso, Shoso.
“You putting together a baseball team?” Yuki realizes too late that she just broke her own experiment’s rules, but whatever.
Choso waves his hand, spreading his other hand’s thumb and forefinger, and the blood flows in straight lines into a nine-pointed star. “They’re my brothers.”
“You have that many brothers?”
“Yes.” With another hand maneuver, he spells another name. “Yuji is also a brother of mine.”
She blinks. “…You mean Sukuna’s vessel?”
He nods, and she has to swallow down a laugh.
“Uh, I hate to break it to you, but I’m pretty sure that kid’s not your brother. Weren’t you a curse womb?”
He turns his head to look at her with stern eyes. “Brotherhood means more than being born from the same womb.”
When he sits up, the blood vanishes away into thin air, and the long sleeves of his robes brush across the concrete floor. “I know what I felt when I first battled him. One minute we were opposed, but then it felt like I was cutting down my own flesh and blood. Like we’ve been raised together for years.”
“Is that why you were crying earlier? When he left with them?”
He brushes a piece of hair away from his forehead and nods with a swallow, looking wistful. “I would give my life for him the same way I would for any of my other siblings, but I can’t protect him now. He’s got to survive on his own.”
“He’s a strong kid. He’ll be fine.” Yuki gives him an encouraging smile. “And I think it’s sweet how you care so much for your brothers. I miss mine, too.”
“You have brothers?”
“Two. Older and younger. Keishi and Shiro. They’re my rocks.” She unlocks her phone, scrolls through her camera gallery and shows Choso her favorite photo of them together. “Used to have three before our oldest brother bled our savings dry and took off. Fuck him.”
Choso gapes up from the phone at her in disbelief, like wishing ill on one’s brother is an unthinkable sin. “Is he dead?”
“Hell if I care. He’s dead to me, at least.”
He closes his mouth, pressing his lips together before taking a labored breath.
“I have similar feelings about my father.”
Yuki perks up. “Right, Kamo. He was another Kenjaku Trojan horse, wasn’t he?”
He nods, the frown lines of his brow creasing.
“That guy really gets around, if you know what I mean,” she tries to lighten the mood, but judging from Choso’s face, it doesn’t seem to take.
She coughs awkwardly. “Did, uh, did he give you that body?”
“No. It was Mahito.”
“That puppet-looking bastard?”
He nods.
“Ah.” She tries a different, riskier angle, tossing her hair behind her shoulder and giving Choso a quick up-down glance. “He may be a bastard, but he’s a bastard with taste.”
He gives her a skeptical look back, but she catches the hint of blush that spreads high across his cheekbones. “I suppose.” Score.
“Who was he before? Your body, I mean.”
“Unsure. But my brother Eso was a circus gymnast. And Kechizu… He inhabited one of the curse’s transfigured creations.”
“Gross,” she shudders. “So what was it like growing up with eight brothers?”
He tilts his head at her, kind of like a puppy. It’s cute. “We didn’t grow up in the traditional sense. We spent a century and a half in separate vats communicating telepathically. Eso, Kechizu, and myself were only given these bodies a few weeks ago.”
She whistles. “Holy shit. That’s the kind of personal space I would’ve killed for as a kid.” She’s starting to put the pieces together now. “So you’ve never watched television? Or a movie?”
“No.”
“Read a book?”
“No.”
“Been to the grocery store?”
“I haven’t been anywhere without my brothers outside of Mahito’s supervision until the Shibuya operation began.”
“So you’re basically a baby,” she grins at him, her tongue poking out from between her teeth. He shrugs. “I guess that’s just as well. If I had my way, you wouldn't have even been born.”
“What do you mean?”
“I wanna find out a way to eradicate curses entirely, instead of having sorcerers snuff them out as they appear. That’s why I was a bit of a delinquent at the Tokyo high school. I didn’t exactly agree with how they did things.”
Recognition flashes in Choso’s eyes. “I believe that’s where our wombs have been housed for the past several decades.”
“Well, would you look at that!” She nudges him in the shoulder with a smile. “We were technically classmates.”
He returns her smile, just the smallest upturn of the corners of his mouth. “Technically. But I wouldn’t be opposed to your alternative.”
“Of what?”
“Of eradicating curses,” he says. “It seems as if my brothers and I have been causing quite a few problems for the jujutsu world. And I don’t appreciate the way we’ve been misused in this operation.”
She raises her eyebrows in I-told-you-so fashion. “Like I said, that Mahito’s a Grade-A bastard.”
He hmphs in agreement.
From the corner of his nose bandage, she sees another drop of blood beginning to form.
She points at it. “Make a lotus flower.”
At first he doesn’t comprehend, but then he reaches up and touches the blood with the tip of his index finger, drawing a long steady stream out from it and casting it into the air above his head. With a few waves of his hand and some rapt concentration, he assembles a lopsided-looking bud.
“That’s not a lotus,” she manages through her laughter.
It gets a chuckle out of him, too. “I don’t know what a lotus looks like.”
“Alright, alright, fine. Make a… make a star instead.”
He listens, drawing the lines into a neat five-pointed star.
“Now try a heart.”
He does. It’s a little crooked on the left side.
“Now a diamond.”
They do this for a while. A few times, she takes a little too long in between design requests from admiring the focus on his face, the contour of his cheeks.
Tengen finally makes his grand reappearance a few hours later to touch base with them, and Yuki gets an opportunity to (respectfully) pick his brain about the things she’s been wondering about. He conjures up two pillows and a few blankets for their nighttime watch before vanishing again to safety.
The next time she checks her phone after he leaves, she finally has a couple bars of service, and her notifications are absolutely flooded with messages from the past day.
From: Sato Kasumi
I’m at baggage claim. Look for the sign with your name on it!
Just kidding ;)
Are you still deboarding
Everything okay?
???
Hello???
Yuki where are you?
Everyone else from your flight has come and gotten their luggage and I’ve been standing here for 45 minutes
Seriously where the hell are you??
Should I call someone?
Wow
I guess this is what I get for taking your calls again
I’m leaving now.
Find your own ride.
She pinches the bridge of her nose, turning her phone face-down onto the ground. “Shit.”
Choso looks up from his lap. “Is everything alright?”
“I was supposed to be meeting a friend at the airport.” She sighs. “She’s not too happy. But obviously I haven’t been able to tell her that I'm a little busy.”
Choso hums in response, glancing off somewhere just to the left of Yuki’s face before turning back to her. “If she’s your friend, surely she should understand.”
“It’s a bit more complicated than that. We’re, ah, familiar,” she says with a mirthless wink. “So she thinks I stood her up.”
“What do you mean by ‘familiar?’”
“We were just messing around for a while when I was living in Osaka.”
He gives her a blank look.
“As in, we were having sex. But she wanted more out of it than me. She was upset that I moved away instead of staying with her.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“I can’t live in one place for too long. I get claustrophobic.” She tries not to remember the way Kasumi cried the day she left, begging her not to go – the way that the grip of her fingers left desperate marks on her wrist for a few days after. That was a particularly painful departure, but it’s better this way. “Usually I just go where the money’s good. And I always try to check out places I haven’t been to yet.”
He sits on that context for a moment.
“Why did you leave if you loved her?”
She scoffs. “Who said I loved her?”
“Oh.” He blinks. “But you… You and she had intercourse.”
“Uh, yeah. So?”
“Intercourse is for producing a child.” He says it like he’s reciting from a biology textbook. “I’ve been told that’s how my brothers and I were conceived.”
She smirks. “Well, sure. But we didn’t really have the right parts for that, you know?”
It’s evident that she probably just shattered whatever bare-bones understanding he already had about the miracle of life. “Oh.”
“And when it is an option to make a kid, there’s still about a million and a half different products you can buy to stop that from happening.”
“Why?”
“Because lots of people don’t want a baby. It’s a huge commitment.”
He busies his fingers on the hem of his black vest. “Do you want a child?”
“Not really. Never did.” She picks a loose thread off her corset in return. “Fucked-up world we live in nowadays. Wouldn’t wish it on anyone.”
Choso looks away, clearly embarrassed, and she feels a little pang of remorse from talking smart at him.
“I’m sorry I asked,” he says after a long stretch. “About your friend. I just– I thought that human children were conceived out of love.”
She laughs dryly. “Wouldn’t that be a perfect world. But people who don’t love each other pop out kids all the time.”
“Why?”
“Pick a reason. Protection fails sometimes. Holes in condoms, missed pills, things like that. Some folks think you can’t get pregnant your first time. Other folks don’t even know that’s how babies are made. Not to mention lots of stupid couples with issues somehow think that adding a kid into the mix will magically solve all of them.”
“Does it not?”
She gives him a patient, tight-lipped smile.
“No. It doesn’t.”
They sit in more silence for a while. In the dim light of the chamber, the dark circles around Choso’s eyes look as if they’re chiseled into his face.
“It all sounds like a great deal of trouble,” he states finally, matter-of-factly.
She raised a mock glass at him. “You got that right.”
After about another hour of lying around, Yuki’s watch alarm chimes on ten-o’clock.
“I’m exhausted,” she sighs, groaning slightly as she rises to her feet. “But I can take first watch. That okay with you?”
He nods wordlessly.
“Great.” She goes over to the pile of blankets and pillows in the corner and hands him one of each before laying out her own. He takes them gently in outstretched arms. “I’ll wake you up at 2:00.”
“Alright.”
As he meticulously sets up his own linens to mirror hers, she sits on her blanket and digs around in her knapsack for the sleep shirt she always carries around for day trips that could potentially turn into day-and-a-half trips. It’s long, the hem reaching down to her mid-thigh, and the characoal-grey fabric is soft from years of wear.
Throwing a glance over her shoulder, she makes eye contact with Choso, who quickly looks away and continues to busy himself with straightening what little bedding he has. That gives her a reminder – a potential component of the alternate test.
Turning back to face the wall, she undoes the snaps of her corset and slowly peels off her tank top, rustling her hair as it comes up over her head. The brisk chamber air makes the hair on her forearms stand on end, but she suspects it’s really only partially due to the chill.
Next comes her bra, a lacy little thing that’s far more supportive than it looks. She slips off one shoulder strap at a time, stealing another glance behind her as she undoes the clasp in a practiced motion, letting it fall into her lap.
Choso’s frozen in place, blanket corner still in hand, and his eyes are dutifully fixated on the bare skin of her upper back.
When he sees he’s been caught again, he swallows and turns away from her completely, hurriedly shoving off some clothing items of his own: his sashes and scarf. He drops them in a heap a couple meters away from him and unties his white robe, shrugging it off his shoulders and revealing a simple cream-colored tunic underneath. He sets the robe aside too, then buries himself under his blanket without another word, his jet-black hair a perfect yin to the white pillowcase’s yang.
She smiles to herself in satisfaction as she pulls her sleep shirt over her head. This standard of chivalry he’s holding himself to is a little hilarious, but she’s close to gathering all the information she needs to make a proper assessment: she can feel it. Just one more little push.
Midnight rolls around, and she should be practically falling asleep sitting up by now, but instead she’s wired. Trying to do anything requiring focus while turned on is as difficult as you might expect - and to be honest, she’s been fighting that battle for the majority of the past twelve hours - but her typical solution isn’t really on the table right now. She didn’t even pack any of her toys.
She stares at Choso’s blanket-clad back for a bit, watches the steady rise and fall of his shoulders, and considers.
Fuck it. It’s not like she hasn’t found herself in more compromising positions.
She slips a hand below the waistband of her underwear, brushing past the finely-trimmed hair and settling in a well-practiced spot. Two fingers tease back and forth over her clit, dipping lower and lower until she’s sinking them into herself with a quiet sigh and driving her hips up to meet them.
For lack of a less personal imagination in the moment, she thinks about Choso’s tongue buried in her folds as she rides his face. Grinding down on him hard till her clit hits his teeth. Probably out of character for him, but he wouldn’t need any experience for that – all he really has to do is just lay there.
She circles her fingers faster, picturing herself anchoring her fingers in his hair and rocking into him more and more frantically, making him gasp for air, coming hard into his mouth.
“What are you doing?”
Her eyes fly open, and Choso’s right there, sitting up at her side and staring at her. She didn’t even hear him get up; it’s like she summoned him with her thoughts.
She yelps, yanking her hand out of her panties and throwing her blanket back over herself with the other. “Jesus, you scared me. You should be sleeping.”
He gives her a noncommittal tilt of the head, but his eyes don’t leave her slick fingers. “I’ve been asleep for most of my life. It seems counterproductive to try and sleep more.”
“Oh.”
She feels molten under the intensity of his gaze, and the wanton part of her brain that’s running the show right now remembers her mission, and gets a dangerous little idea.
“Maybe you should be the one keeping watch, then.” She gives him a pointed glance as she moves the blanket to the side again, lifting up her waistband with her clean thumb so she can slide her hand back down under it. “But it looks like you already are.”
Choso says nothing to that, but his eyes flit back and forth from her face to her hand like he’s at a tennis match, his expression darkening with concern when a moan escapes her throat louder than she’d intended. She’s not used to putting on a show like this; it’s a little exhilarating.
“Are you in pain?”
“No. But sometimes I like to be.” To prove it, she reaches up with her free hand and snakes it under her shirt, tweaking a nipple hard enough to make herself gasp. Choso watches her in apprehension, or maybe something else.
“It feels good,” she clarifies. “If that’s what you’re asking.”
Some puzzle piece of understanding seems to snap into place, and his brow knits themselves tightly together.
“You shouldn’t do that in Master Tengen’s presence.”
She raises a self-satisfied eyebrow at the accidental confession. “So you do know what I’m doing.”
She grins as she watches his face color, his glance darting off to the side. Too easy.
“Have you tried it yourself? Do you even know how?”
“It’s–” He sighs and waves a hand vaguely over his own lap. “The mechanism is controlled by blood flow, so… It was intuitive.”
She can’t help but laugh at that, but it chokes off at the end, lost to the rhythm of her fingers. “The mechanism. Very technical. But I guess you wouldn’t be the first to use your technique to get off.” She pauses, letting a mild tide of pleasure creep up and wash out. “And? What’d you think?”
As he shifts in place, she notices the bulge quickly making itself known underneath his tunic – that’s the ticket. “I see the appeal.”
Now she’s imagining what he might’ve looked like doing it: jerking himself off with untrained strokes, maneuvering his own blood through his length in just the right way, whining like a dog as he fucked up into his own fist, gasping in surprise when he finally spilled all over his hand. She mentally files that away for later.
Sitting up on her side, she props herself up on one elbow and faces him more squarely. The angle changes too, her knee bending to open herself up, and she has to bite down a gasp before speaking again.
“This mechanism’s controlled by blood flow too, you know.”
His eyes widen as he drags them away from her crotch to focus back on her face. “It is?”
“It sure is. So… you could help me out.”
“Help you out?”
“With that little technique of yours.” She’s ready and willing to pull the plug any second at Choso’s word, but if he says no to this she might literally die of blue balls: “I want you to use your Blood Manipulation while you touch me.”
He frowns again, ever the conscientious objector. “My technique isn’t a toy. And I could hurt you.”
“I just said that I like pain sometimes, didn’t I? And you wouldn’t hurt me if you did it the same way you did before.” She licks her lips as she rides out another wave, thinking about how this is probably the weirdest foreplay anyone has ever had. “I wanna make you feel good, too. However you want.”
The lightbulb seems to go off again for Choso. His cheeks flush red, and he tucks his legs underneath him so he’s kneeling in front of her.
“Is this… Would this be considered–”
“Yeah,” she cuts in, sparing him the awkwardness of spelling it out. “It’s sex. Do you want that?” Then, just so it’s clear that he has an out: “You can say no.”
It’s slightly unnerving for Yuki to be asking this of someone with so little knowledge, let alone experience. She and her past partners have all been the product of years of careful socialization: colorful jokes and stories overheard from her brothers, painful reproduction lessons in health class, awkward confessions in the schoolyard, first kisses with too much teeth, rewinding VHS tapes and replaying certain movie scenes over and over again so she could feel those pins and needles in between her legs again. Good sex, great sex, regrettable sex, sex so lackluster that it shouldn’t even count – almost none of it with virgins.
But Choso is a true wild card. He’s had none of that initiation; he might as well have been raised by wolves, or grown up alone on a desert island. At least with the wolves he might’ve been able to learn a thing or two just by watching.
Maybe he’s not actually the one being measured up here after all.
At first he says nothing, but she watches as he squeezes his eyes shut and presses the heel of his hand into his erection with a low, quiet moan, almost like he’s test-driving the sensation before committing to it.
Maybe it’s just a side effect of being cooped up in a tiny room for hours on end, but Yuki’s never been more turned on in her life. She wants to rip that stupid tunic off already and swallow him down, but even if he just wanted to sit there and hold hands she’d probably come from that, too. More than once.
“This little pax-de-deux furthers your bloodline if you do it right,” she hears herself reminding him around an involuntary smile, to which he opens his eyes again. “So evolution did us a nice favor and made it really fun. You see what I’m getting at?”
He nods once, expression still a bit cramped, but her gut does a little victory flip as he starts reaching a hand out to her lower half.
“Can… Can I touch you?”
“That’s the name of the game.” She hurriedly shucks off her underwear and tosses it aside before settling down on her back, bending a knee to give him access. “Show me what you got. I’m all yours.”
He advances on her slowly, notching his thumb in the tiny dip of her hip bone, the other fingers flayed against the sensitive skin just above her ass. “What should I do?”
“Anything, really. You can rub along the outside here or stick your fingers up inside. But this,” she breathes when she pinches and rolls her clit in between her thumb and forefinger as he watches transfixed, “is the most sensitive spot. Be careful though, ‘cause it gets overworked real easily.”
He nods in the affirmative – a footsoldier taking orders from his captain – dragging his fingers down across her front until they’re mirroring the position he found her in. The pads of his fingertips are rough and calloused like hers, and the mere friction of them against her folds is enough to send her reeling.
“Um,” he starts to say, and she can feel the earthy vibrations of his low voice through the razor-thin skin of his hand. “I’m going to start using my technique now.”
“By all means. While I’m young and can still come.”
A sliver of tongue pokes out of the corner of his mouth in concentration, and he makes a particular hand formation against her – a curse-summoning gesture. Heat and pressure flows to it like a rushing river, gathering there and pulsing through her folds.
It’s nothing like what she’s ever done to herself, what anyone else has ever been able to do to her. It feels total and all-consuming, like her non-vital organs are shutting down and all her body’s energy is being redirected to her groin, and she almost laughs out loud from the sheer novelty of it. The eye contact thing is a little much, though; they’re gonna have to work on that.
“You’re a real prodigy at this, huh?” she manages to squeak out just before he bunches his fingers together right below her clit, engorging it with her own blood, turning her sensitivity up to an eleven.
She curses, mouth falling open as she rolls her hips up into him. He chases her movement, letting one finger slip inside her – already wet – and sweeping his thumb up and over her clit.
“Fuck,” she groans, basking in her own unadulterated pleasure. This is going to be over a lot sooner than she thought.
Through her all-consuming brain fog, she can see the clear outline of his very hard dick through the tunic’s sturdy fabric, the head traced against it like lovers’ initials carved into tree bark. It’s big, bigger than most she’s taken. “You can touch yourself, too. Wouldn’t that be fun.”
His eyes go wider, and he shoves his other hand under there without preamble, all coyness abandoned, like he was waiting for her cue. They moan in tandem when he’s finally able to stroke the both of them off at the same time.
He hasn’t really said much at all, undividedly devoted to this impressive display of multitasking, and Yuki’s starting to think he’s just not the type to be vocal right as he says:
“It was on purpose.”
It takes all her mental energy to tear her attention away from the fist beating underneath his tunic and focus up at his face. His eyes are intimidatingly dark, yet also bright with revelation.
“Huh?”
“Earlier. You took your clothes off in front of me on purpose.” Another turn of his thumb over her clit pulls a genuine cry out of her. “You wanted us to do this.”
She tries flashing him a knowing grin, but it probably looks deranged in her current state. “Worked, didn’t it?”
All the other thoughts in her brain dissolve when he pushes two more long fingers deep inside her, coaxing some blood along with it. “God, yeah. Right there.”
He throws his head back for a moment with a shudder, pronouncing the muscles in his neck. His sheet-pale skin is deliciously flushed now, and Yuki wants to sit up and suck another color into it.
“Seeing you like that… It made me want to touch you,” he explains with impressive resolve, but his breathing is just as heavy and erratic as hers. “I didn’t understand why before, but now I do.”
She laughs outright at that, the innocence of it almost endearing if not for the underlying connotation. “That’s called being horny. Welcome to – ahh – to being human.”
Just then, Choso lets out a strangled, guttural whine. His eyes squeeze shut again, and the muscles of the hand inside of her move sharper on their own accord as the hand on his dick beats even faster.
“Yuki…”
Hearing him say her own name – for the first time since they’ve started their watch – is more than enough to finally send her over the edge. Her toes curl as she comes without warning, desperately rocking down on Choso’s fingers as she rides it out, her vision going entirely white.
As soon as she regains her wits, she pulls his hand by the wrist out from between her legs (in his defense, he probably just didn’t know when to stop). He’s still frantically jerking himself off, covered by the tunic, and Yuki reaches over and pulls the fabric back. He shivers when the open air hits his groin, and he’s looking at her with needy eyes, like she’s the only one who could ever do this for him.
She sits up, leans forward and takes over, covering his hand with her own before he takes his away. He groans loudly as she pumps his dick, twisting her wrist on the upstroke.
She bends down close, her lips almost touching the head as she strokes him. “Tell me when.”
That time would quickly turn out to be right then, as he chokes on the first syllable of her name and comes, most of it landing in her open mouth. There’s a lot to swallow, and she laps up the rest from his head and shaft; he tastes clean, like he’d just bathed.
She pulls away and catches her breath, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “If we get some suspicious looks from Tengen later, we’ll know why.”
He’s got a stunned look on his face, gaping down at his fading hard-on like he can’t believe what just happened, and he finally pulls the edge of his tunic up to dab the sweat off his forehead as if in a daze.
At first she’s worried that he’s regretting the whole thing, but then he pulls the tunic back into place and says quietly, earnestly: “Thank you. For that.”
She can’t help the giggle that comes out. “I– You’re welcome, I guess?”
He grimaces. “Am I not supposed to say that?”
“No, no, it’s not that. It’s just…” She shakes her head and giggles some more, like a maniac. “I mean, I should be thanking you. That was the best I’ve ever had. You’re the best I’ve ever had. And we didn’t even kiss!”
He blinks at her. “Huh?”
“We–” She reminds herself that actions speak louder than words, then reaches up to carefully cup his face as she closes the distance between their lips. His are a little chapped, but she hopes he can taste himself on her tongue.
It doesn’t last long – only a few seconds – and when she pulls back, his eyes are bright and expectant. He mirrors her instinctually and brings a hand up to her cheek, a beat too late, before quickly putting it back down again.
“That,” she says, barely above a whisper. “We didn’t do that.”
He reaches out to her, gathering a handful of fabric at the bottom of her sleep shirt.
“Can… Can we do it again?”
“Yeah.” She leans in again, stretching the kiss out longer, letting him feel through the nuts and bolts of making out before breaking it off again. “And before you ask, no, this won’t get me pregnant.”
He smiles like it’s an inside joke, and in a way it is. “Understood.”
They end up going another round, with Yuki gagging on his dick more than once while she sucks him off and Choso giving her head that nearly has her questioning her entire existence. Eventually they fall asleep together under Yuki’s blankets like the worst watchkeepers in the world, with Choso wrapped in her arms (she’s taller, and she likes being the big spoon). It’s like the chill of the chamber isn’t even there anymore.
As she lets his steady breathing lull her to a brief sleep, it dawns on her that after all of that, she still has no idea how to answer the initial question she’d asked him. Maybe she’s just created a sex monster, or maybe Yuki is the only woman he’ll ever think about for the rest of his life.
Maybe the test was never about measuring him up, but meeting him where he was at.
In any case, she can’t recall another time in her life when she’s wanted to stay somewhere so badly.
This is so much better than Bali.