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There’s that look again.
And oh, this is a dangerous scenario.
Because they’re not in the middle of a forest or a cave with Weiss and Ruby only a foot or two away from them. They’re in a room with four walls, a locked door and window, with the ruckus from the people downstairs providing even more privacy overall. Yang has used the excuse of the possibility of getting caught (by her little sister no less) to keep herself from trying to initiate anything, to reciprocate the desirable expressions and at least let Blake know it is not one-sided by any means.
But now, that excuse isn’t exactly viable.
She has no idea how much time passes until one of them makes a move. It’s Blake, because Yang is too busy in her mind second-guessing and questioning everything and What if she doesn’t want this and What if she regrets it and-
Blake steps toward her and Yang feels like a cornered animal as her back presses lightly into the wall behind her for balance and a thrill of excitement surges through her as she grips the bandana tighter. The sway of her hips makes her heart race and she realizes she’s staring much too late, eyes darting up to darkened gold as Blake reaches her and there’s suddenly very little space between them. She swallows thickly, doing her best not to make it obvious her legs feel weak.
But that just about goes right out the window when Blake pries Yang’s fingers off the bandana, holding her aside. She steps closer, slipping a finger underneath the orange fabric. Closer, closer, and as she pulls the bandana down to reveal her neck, Blake’s lips ghost over the column of her throat, and Yang’s head thumps against the wall behind her. She is 100% certain that her partner can feel the rapid thumping of her pulse with her mouth and it’s too much, too much.
Blake digs her nails into her hips and Yang has no idea what to do with her hands, so she runs her palms slowly, hesitantly up the curve of Blake’s back and-
“You,” Blake presses against her, leaving no space left between them, whispering in her ear, “are so beautiful, Yang.”
Her fingers hook against her partner’s shoulder blades, squeezing her eyes shut. Afraid, afraid, afraid.
She’ll ruin this. This beautiful, precarious balance they’ve found themselves on. The world is too harsh for them to enjoy this and what if she messes up and tomorrow morning, Blake won’t even look at her?
She can’t handle the possibility.
And most importantly…
“We’ve been drinking tonight,” Yang mutters, defeat in her tone. The truth is sour in her mouth and she wants to spit it out. “You more than me, Blake. I-I think it’s better if we go to sleep, I don’t want you to regret anything.”
Blake stiffens in her hold and she knows instantly it’s the wrong thing to say. For a handful of seconds, they remain as they are. Chest-to-chest, with Blake gripping her hips and Yang holding her delicately around the back with her head tilted to invite her partner’s lips to roam as they please despite her words.
She wishes they could stay like this forever.
A breath of a chuckle coasts by her ear, disappointed and resigned, and Blake starts to back away now. Stopping at an arm’s length, gold meeting purple.
“For the record,” Blake responds, a smile to her face that doesn’t reach her eyes, “I’m not anywhere as drunk as you think. Certainly not enough to do or say anything I will regret in the morning.” She takes her hands off of Yang now, retreating another step away, and Yang wants to take it back but her arms fall limply at her sides. “But I will respect the no.”
And then Blake heads over to her side of the room and to her bed, having taken off the attached boots of her catsuit earlier. Throwing over her shoulder an almost sad, “Goodnight, Yang.”
Yang stays leaning heavily against the wall. Heavier now without her partner there to catch her, and it feels like she just made a terrible mistake of some kind. Or missed her chance. She numbly gets into her own bed, facing away from Blake, staring at nothing in the darkness and berating herself internally.
She was trying to be chivalrous. That was the responsible thing to do, right? Her words are true, they did drink tonight… but to be honest, Yang is nowhere near inebriated enough to do something stupid she’ll lament over with a clearer head.
Her head is as clear as ever- and right now, the only thing she can think about is Blake’s lips and Blake’s hands on her and Blake’s scent shrouding her senses and Blake, Blake, Blake-
“Damn it,” Yang mumbles to herself, running a hand down her face, shifting in the bed to lay on her back and (inevitably, inevitably, inevitably) peeking across the room to her partner. Blake is on her side, back facing her direction too, but it’s hard to tell if she’s actually asleep or not. Her breaths are even, so maybe that’s a surefire sign.
…Can she actually do it?
Can they afford to do this?
Now more than ever, they need to rely on each other. As partners, as a team. And if they go on and do something stupid that potentially risks putting it in jeopardy, then not only will they be in danger for the coming future, but so will Ruby and Weiss. Because they’ll be distracted.
And in complete honesty, she’s scared.
She doesn’t want this to be a one-time thing. She doesn’t want to sleep with Blake and forget about it in the morning and simply… move on from this place. The whole “whatever happens here stays here” mentality, she can’t do that.
This love will consume her and if, for Blake, this is just a heat of the moment thing…
It will break Yang. She can’t afford to be broken right now.
But…
Counterpoint.
What if?
What if she says fuck it and risk it anyway?
What if this is something more for Blake too?
And also.
Yang really, really wants to kiss her. And touch her. And taste her and have her and-
She’s moving before she realizes it. From one blink to the next, she’s on her feet and halfway across the short space between the beds and nearly tripping over Blake’s boots there and, with all the caution in the world, she sits at the very edge of the bed. Waiting for the soft creak from it to stop. Her heart is going a million miles a minute, but that’s fine.
If she misread the situation and Blake rejects her now after doing the same not even half an hour ago, then she just… ruins everything. No big deal. It’s fine. It’s not like everything rests on what happens in this very moment. Like standing at the precipice over an endless abyss. A precarious balance.
“Blake,” Yang breathes out, almost aphonic. But Blake hears her anyway, inhaling slowly before she rolls onto her back, bringing her infinitely closer to Yang, and opening her eyes as she remains laying down.
Gold searches purple and purple searches gold and she has no idea what Blake is looking for or what she is looking for. Her mouth opens but nothing comes out so she closes it again. Useless, useless, useless. Again, she tries. With the same results.
And then Blake lifts herself to one of her elbows- closer, closer, closer- and her hand threads through the strands of hair on back of Yang’s head, pulling down at the same time she surges up.
Their first kiss is- despite all the want-filled looks snuck toward each other and the lingering touches in the past few days (weeks, months, years)- incredibly tender. Gentle. As though they both knew exactly how fragile their future is now that they’ve made this decision together. It is just enough for her to feel her warmth, the softness of her lips. Just enough to make her know she will never be the same again because now she knows what it’s like to kiss Blake Belladonna.
They part, lips still brushing, and Yang opens her eyes to find Blake looking at her. Downright mystified…
Yang is right there with her. She must have fallen asleep earlier and this is all a dream.
That terrifies her to consider.
“Blake, I-”
She doesn’t get to finish because her partner shuts her up in the best way possible (and by then, Yang forgets entirely what she had been trying to say). Dragging her forward again and bunching her fingers in her hair, pulling at the roots in a way that makes Yang groan into her mouth. Blake makes some kind of sound- needy and desperate- in the back of her throat that she wouldn’t mind hearing more of.
She quickly learns their position is rather awkward; with her sitting at the edge of the bed, leaning over Blake, and her partner still partially laying down. Blake is quick to try and adjust and they suddenly become the best at multitasking. Kissing while maneuvering around.
Yang’s palm shoots out to the side to steady herself but it does nothing more than land on Blake’s thigh, and that touch alone seems to jumpstart Blake because she clings to Yang’s back and makes it obvious with a drag of nails through the fabric of her overalls where she’s trying to guide Yang.
And shit, who is she to deny her of anything?
The thought of not kissing her is unbearable, so Yang moves blindly into a better position until she’s on top of Blake. At first, trying not to rest all of her weight on top of her, but Blake apparently doesn’t like that and all but drags her down until they’re flush together. It’s becoming unbearably hot and she is panting for air and Blake isn’t any better because they part for only a second and meet again, part and meet, part and meet like they’ll fade into nonexistence if they stop kissing for long enough to draw in a deep breath.
She’s dimly aware of Blake’s hands at her shoulders, sliding off the straps of her overalls like she once did to reveal an injury to her back but with much more meaning (and haste). It is the greatest shame that Yang has to pull away then, hair spilling over her shoulders while the lower half of their bodies remain pressing. Blake does not hesitate in the slightest as she reaches for the front zipper of the tan overalls, giving an incessant tug.
“Off,” she murmurs, and her voice… Gods, the tone she has is nothing that Yang has ever heard before. It coasts over her like a current of electricity, desire clenching low in her abdomen as her arms shake to keep herself steady. Another tug, another few centimeters. “I want this off. I want to see you.”
And Yang wants to be seen. Isn’t it great how things work out?
A hint of a grin appears on her lips, eyes darting down to where Blake holds the zipper and back again.
“Then take it off.”
There’s something almost challenging in her words. Something almost begging. Because Yang has no idea if she’ll be able to do it on her own- and she’d much rather Blake do it. It is a show of trust.
I trust you enough to make me bare.
I trust you with all of me.
The intense, unbearable heat that had been building between them calms to a simmer now, a gentle warmth as Blake seems to register her words, her intention. Softness competes with desire in gold, both of them vying for dominance and neither one succeeding to the dark horse that is nervousness. Blake wets her lips and Yang instinctively leans down to chase her tongue into her mouth, one hand cupping the side of her cheek but leaving enough space between them for Blake to pull down the zipper.
She does so slowly, dragging out the act far longer and with more care than Yang normally does it herself. She feels her combat gear growing slack around her and she frees her arms from the straps. Blake helps to bring it down until the material pools at her hips where Yang will have to wrestle her way out of them (and to do that, she’ll have to get off of Blake which is too tortuous a concept to consider).
Blake immediately goes for her abs, the tips of her fingers and the promise of nails running against muscle with open appreciation. From the front toward the small of her back, and that promise is kept and Yang jerks forward with a strangled whine as Blake urges her on.
She quickly learns that she can’t deny Blake anything.
She wouldn’t have it any other way.
Even with her combat gear mostly off, with a majority of her skin exposed and free for Blake to explore, Yang is too hot. And it might have to do with the fact it’s because Blake gets to touch her that might be the reason. Wherever her hands trail, goosebumps lay in their wake in a mosaic of her excitement (and Blake is quite the artist with her body) and fire scorches underneath her skin, streaming through her veins and muscles and very bones and it leaves her weak and slack and hungry for more.
And to think this is only to her body.
She won’t last a second if- when, when, when- Blake truly touches her.
It’s very hard not to get distracted and Yang knows she will never be able to casually touch Blake again because now? Oh, now she knows what a touch like this feels like and it has changed her. She is becoming undone bit by bit, seam by seam, piece by piece and fuck has she never craved to be unraveled and broken apart more than now.
Everything changes after this.
It nearly brings her pause but she makes the effort to push away her doubts and fears in favor of taking Blake’s bottom lip between her teeth. While she allows Blake to explore as much as she wants- and her partner is sure taking her sweet time in learning every curve, every dip, every scar- Yang keeps her hands on the bed. Gripping onto the sheets to anchor herself because she has no idea if she’s allowed to do the same.
But she wants to.
Fuck, she wants to.
Want, want, want-
She lasts all of a second longer before allowing her hand to trail lower than just Blake’s face, the safe zone, following the sharpness of her jaw down toward her neck with cautious fingers. Over the material of Blake’s combat gear, hesitating only a beat longer until biting the bullet (and hoping it doesn’t backfire on her) and gripping onto the zipper there. Starting to pull it down, only an inch.
Blake pulls her lips away from her and Yang freezes, about to apologize, about to take it all back, but all her partner says is a mildly amused (breathless), “Finally.”
She blinks in confusion and it earns her a husky chuckle.
“I was wondering when you were going to take my clothes off too.”
“I-” Yang croaks and swallows lightly, brow furrowing. Concentrate, concentrate. Don’t focus on her hands against your biceps. Don’t focus on her legs around your waist. “I didn’t want to assume you were okay with it. I was about to ask.”
And she must say something right because Blake melts at her words. Nothing but fondness fills gold and the next kiss she grants her is only a peck, short and light but endearing and adorable.
“You are,” she smiles, “surprisingly sweet, Yang.”
Yang raises a brow (and will never admit to pouting), “Surprisingly?”
“I imagined you would be more… assertive and confident when a moment like this came.”
Okay.
So.
One thing Yang has learned; Blake has apparently imagined being in bed. With her. Together. Them, together, having sex.
Good to know.
Also.
“Oh, I’m a nervous wreck,” Yang has no problem admitting. Honesty is sugary on her tongue like a droplet of honey, and though it’s like admitting a fault, this feels like a safe place. “For many reasons.”
“It’s endearing, really,” Blake trails her hands up her arms to her shoulders and Yang has to do everything in her power not to collapse into a puddle. Her partner lifts her head, kissing that sensitive spot by her ear that makes her breath stutter, and she bites her lip when Blake allows the slightest hint of teeth to nip there. “But if it makes you feel better, I’m nervous too. For many reasons.”
She has a feeling Blake is just saying that because she’s certainly not acting particularly nervous right now. She seems to know exactly what she wants and knows that she will get it because Yang will give her everything she asks for and whatever is left over too.
Blake can have it all.
“Do you want that?” Yang reels herself in. Focus, focus, focus. Don’t think about how good it feels when she bites you. (Too late. It’s all she’s thinking about and she releases a breathless exhale. A whine somewhere there.)
“Do I want you to undress me?” Her nails dig into her back and Yang knows her arms are about to give out if she continues with that. Blake has kissed her way down from the spot by her ear toward her neck, taking her time with that too. Tortuously slow in her endeavor, savoring every second of it. “Absolutely.”
She’s teasing.
She is trailing her hands to dangerous places and leaving lovely lines where her nails drag while sucking at another part of her neck and she’s teasing her.
Yang’s going to die. (What a way to go.)
“I meant for me to be more assertive.” Hey, look at that. She can still form sentences, wonderful.
Yang swallows thickly, bringing a hand to the back of Blake’s head and gripping onto black strands (gently, of course) and pulling. Blake allows her to take her away from what is no doubt quite the mark she was trying to leave behind at the junction where neck and shoulder meet.
Yang searches her gaze carefully as she adds, “Because I can be if that’s what you want. But if not, I’m more than happy to let you take the lead.”
More than happy, she’s ecstatic. So long as this gets to continue.
There is something… not like fear or nervousness exactly, that sparks within the depths of gold at those words. Almost unsettled, almost relieved by the offer of an out. Not entirely put off by the idea, but Yang already has her answer.
“Maybe later,” Blake clears her throat and it immediately makes Yang beam.
Later, later, later.
It’s crazy to think they’re just getting started.
“For now,” another challenging glint appears in gold and Yang can’t stomp down on the elation stirring in her chest at the sight. “Are you going to take this off of me or am I going to have to do it myself?”
“I mean,” Yang purposefully let her eyes trail down the length of her body and back up, finishing in a lower, sultry tone, “I wouldn’t mind a personal show.”
“Yang,” Blake huffs, a little restless, a little pink in the face now at the prospect. (Alright, now she sees the nervousness she spoke of.)
“So impatient,” she clicks her tongue, and right as Blake goes to counter with something in return, Yang leans down and shuts her up. She smiles against her lips and there’s a low rumble in Blake’s chest, a growl of irritation, and it earns her a bite.
It makes her chuckle.
With that out of the way, Yang does not hesitate with dragging the zipper at the front of her partner’s catsuit down. (Okay, maybe with a little bit of hesitation, but still.) To her chest, the material loosens and she breaks away from Blake’s lips to immediately start peppering her way down the curve of her jaw to the column of her throat, nosing aside the collar of the gear to reveal more skin, and pressing her tongue flat against Blake’s pulse point. She convinces herself she can taste the very rhythm, the way it picks up as Blake exposes herself more for her.
Breathe. Concentrate. Focus-
She resists taking her thrumming pulse- alive, alive, alive- between her teeth to suck a gentle mark there right away, making sure to double-check, “Can I-“
“Yes,” Blake doesn’t even let her finish, perhaps already knowing what she was about to ask, one hand pushing against the back of Yang’s head in an obvious urging. “As many as you want.”
She does. And never in a million years did Yang ever think Blake will let her leave a love bite on her. While also undressing her.
She tries to be soft at first but gets a little carried away, but if Blake minds, she certainly doesn’t try to stop her.
After leaving one right at her pulse, Yang continues downward toward her collarbone. All the while, she snakes one hand (gently, gently, gently) to the nape of Blake’s neck where the back zipper starts. Careful not to let any stray baby hairs get caught, she brings it down as far as she can get it while Blake is laying down, pushing aside more and more of the catsuit as it loosens with a bit of nuzzling to reveal her partner.
Blake keeps one hand gripped to blonde hair, whether to help guide her exactly where she wants Yang to mark next or to anchor herself through this, it’s hard to tell. Perhaps both. The little sounds she makes are… rather reserved and consciously quiet. Hitched in her throat and held in by gritted teeth. As if Blake is afraid of letting herself be loud.
Which- considering they’re in an inn with a ton of people downstairs and neighbors on either side of them (and she’s certain this place isn’t rich enough for proper soundproofing)- makes sense. But it feels like there is something more to it than that.
Yang pauses when she reaches the lowest part of her chest that she can get to with the combat gear still mostly on her, peeking up from underneath her lashes to discover that Blake has been watching her this entire time. With her free hand that Yang missed greatly against her skin held at her lips lightly, as if prepared to muffle herself against her knuckles.
She releases a faint hum, reaching up toward that hand and circling her fingers at her wrist, pulling it down so she can leave a kiss on her knuckles. “None of that, please.”
“I…”
“If you’re not comfortable with it, then that’s okay, you don’t have to.” A tender smile. “But I would really like to hear you, Blake.”
“You do?” She has no idea why Blake seems confused by that possibility.
“I want to know that you’re liking this. And I want to memorize every sound you make when I do something.” Yang positions her hands against the zippers on Blake’s thighs, undoing them slowly and leaning her head down toward one part of her chest that she left a mark on previously. “Like, when I do this.”
She nibbles on the already prominent hickey, the sensitive skin, earning a whimper from Blake as her partner arches slightly toward her, head falling back against the pillow. A much better sound than the one from earlier.
Idly, casually, as if by accident, Yang slips her hands past the slackened black fabric and her next swallow is difficult as she feels the warmth and softness of Blake’s thigh against her palm. Trying not to lament too much over only being able to truly feel her with one hand instead of two, the prosthetic unable to pick up on anything but pressure there. Trailing her fingers upward until she can’t go any higher because of the suit, moving her lips upward as well to an untouched part of Blake’s neck.
In the breath of a whisper, she utters, “Or this.”
Yang slides her hands to the underside of her thighs, gripping tightly and pulling their hips flush together, fitting herself even more comfortably between her legs like she has always belonged here, at the same time she (gently, gently, gently) sinks her teeth in. Blake’s soft moan is more than worth it and her fingers dig into supple flesh with her stab of desire, of sheer yearning to hear that again as soon as fucking possible.
She was about to continue with her little demonstration and whatnot, but Blake changes her plans completely when she abruptly cups her face and tugs her upward to kiss her properly. There’s a brief clash of teeth but neither seems to mind at the moment, lost to the sensations. Blake hooks her legs around Yang’s waist, bringing her closer, closer, closer with a roll of her hips.
It takes everything within her not to fit her hand between them to give her something to properly grind against if she wants.
She still has some clothes to get rid of.
Sadly, she has to leave her current position to do so (a real shame, Yang could’ve stayed here forever), but she works as quickly as she can. Blake helps her along as well, pulling her arms free so all Yang has to do is pull it down. And she bunches the fabric in her hands, prepared to do just that, before she pauses. Takes a breath. Focus.
“Are you sure?” Yang’s eyes dart up to her partner’s and Blake gives a nod. “Words, please.”
“Yes, Yang,” Blake’s exhale is both breathless and ragged, a tease or another challenge in her tone as she adds, “If you take any longer, I might just hurt you.”
“Careful,” she smirks, “the pain turns me on, so I might just take my sweet time now.”
“Oh, I’m well aware.” Purposefully- it has to be on purpose- Blake’s grip in her hair tightens in a way that brings a shiver through her spine. “That was kind of an invitation. Do with it as you will.”
“You,” she plants a brief peck to her lips, smiling against them, “are dangerous.”
And Yang has always been attracted to danger.
A gleam of satisfaction shines in gold and Yang decides not to take her up on the invitation. Later, later. She doesn’t rip it off of her in one fell swoop, nor does she take forever just to get it past her chest. It is slow, but gradual. Hungry, but appreciative. Nervous, but revering.
Careful, careful, careful.
By the time she has it low at her hips, Yang has to concentrate on her hands instead of peeking up because if she does, she’ll get too distracted. Besides, this way, it builds anticipation for her. Wanting to see the complete masterpiece that is Blake fully undressed rather than partially. (Her grip is tight on the catsuit and if she doesn’t do that, she’s sure she’ll start to shake.)
Blake helps her along by lifting her hips from the bed, bending her legs as well, until Yang comes away with her combat gear and she twists around to toss it to the floor without a care (okay, maybe a bit of care considering it’s one of Blake’s lines of defense). And she almost doesn’t want to turn around and witness her, certain that she won’t be able to handle it.
But Yang does anyway because she has gone much too long without touching or kissing Blake and she needs to correct that immediately.
Except she outright freezes as her gaze finds its way to her partner. Laid out all pretty just for her. Still in her bra and underwear, sure, but those are easily ignorable in the face of everything else.
And fuck what a sight she is to behold.
She’s staring and something in the back of her mind tells her that’s rude and Blake is probably starting to grow self-conscious (her blush spreads to her chest with a rosy pink shade). But Yang can’t entirely help it, and she’s pretty sure she hasn’t breathed in about a minute. The burn in her lungs tells her so.
Yang forces a deep breath- Breathe, Yang, breathe. Focus, focus- and runs a shaky hand down her face, releasing a strained chuckle against her palm before letting it fall to her side. Too nervous to even touch her.
She’ll ruin this.
She’ll definitely ruin this.
Yang is always messing up the things she cares about.
“Fuck,” Yang can only think of saying, eyes trailing back up to meet patient gold. She smiles, rueful and resigned as she proclaims, “I’m so screwed.”
Yang will never be the same now.
Everything changes after this.
“You’re so- I don’t… You-“ Her voice breaks and there is a burning blush against her cheeks now as she flounders for words. Much to Blake’s amusement. “I can’t even speak, you’re so beautiful.”
That, at least, is enough to calm the rising anxiety in Blake. She emits a hum, relaxing more against the mattress, and a smirk quirks at her lips.
“I’m also getting cold.” She extends a hand toward Yang and Yang grabs it instantly for balance, palms pressing together. Blake tilts her head as she asks, “Care to change that?”
Yang would quip in return if she didn’t internally freak out when she places her free hand against her partner’s hip. Over the fabric of her underwear, so much thinner than the catsuit, and Blake is so warm (little liar, you’re not cold) and soft and-
And she’s leaning her head down before she can stop herself, letting go of Blake’s hand in order to hold her on both sides of her waist. Drawn forward by the allure of toned muscle and just… everything. Blake’s irresistible.
Yang doesn’t entirely mean to, she’s hardly aware that she’s doing it, but the first thing she does is kiss the crisscross scar low at Blake’s hip. With a feather soft touch, as if afraid that putting any more pressure against it will make Blake relive that pain all over again and Yang will be damned if she is the reason for it. Apologetic, almost.
I couldn’t help you…
She tried so hard to, but in the end-
“You don’t have to be so gentle.”
Yang’s attention darts up, lingering where she is, (and wow it sure is an experience looking up at Blake from this position). Blake props an arm behind her head to better see her, an expression that’s a mix of warmth and sorrow from the memories (perhaps even a bit of frustration from those too, always getting in the way at the most inconvenient of moments) and encouragement. Not quite a request, not quite a command either.
Just a simple fact of nature. A universal truth.
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
That, too, is a universal truth, and Yang speaks it into existence with the barest of quivers in her tone.
Never, never does she want to hurt Blake.
But-
“I’m not made of glass, Yang.” It’s said with the hint of a chuckle, nonchalant, but the shine in gold weaves a different story. Determined and stern and challenging. As if daring her to deny it or say otherwise. With her free hand, she cups the side of her face and Yang presses into it instinctively. “I won’t break so easily.”
Made of glass.
Well, of course she isn’t. That’s ridiculous.
She is made of pure steel. Forged in the fires of conflict and hardships. Like the blade she wields in battle, sharp enough to cut through skin to those foolish enough to cross her. Always protecting those she holds close to her heart.
Heated enough, steel can bend and maybe it can break, but it can always be formed anew.
She is not afraid of breaking her. Now she’s curious to see how much she can make Blake bend. (Yang is made of fire after all.)
So, taking the words to heart, she swipes her tongue with a firmer pressure along the scar there and smiles to herself at the way it makes her partner’s breath hitch. The way the hand at her cheek moves back toward her hair to urge her to stay for longer.
And now Yang makes it her sole mission to leave as many marks as she can on all this newly revealed skin. Stemming from nothing but her selfish desire to have proof of what has transpired tonight for the days to come. To know that no one will know it’s there but her and Blake.
She marks a path that has no direction, really. Yang has always left the map-tracking to the others. She’s a free roamer through and through, more intent on the journey rather than the destination itself.
With her teeth and lips and tongue, she leaves herself souvenirs for her to remember across Blake’s abdomen, near the scar at her hip (and then the other hip too just to be fair), up, up, up her body toward her sternum and covered breasts. With her hands, she creates a route to herself to follow that she fully intends to complete at one point. Across the planes of her stomach and down, down, down toward her thighs because it’s a serious crime not to touch her. Teasing her fingers toward the softer skin on the inside of her thighs.
And Blake soaks up the attention. All for the better. Yang has a lot to give. The noises she makes- sighs of her name (her name) and pleased gasps and huffs of disappointment when Yang leans away and stops kissing her body for a second- will forever be buried in the deepest parts of her mind and held dearly in the center of her heart.
There’s little to no fanfare in the way she unhooks her bra from the back, Blake and her working as one in their united mission to take it off as quickly as possible, and Yang chucks it aside without a care of where it’ll end up. And while she’s at it, kneeled back for that moment, she rips herself free of her tube top to undress herself as well and throws that off to the side too.
She groans an appreciative little, “Damn,” at the sight of her, and with an encouraging tug from Blake, Yang does not hesitate in leaning down and taking her breast into her mouth.
“Fuck,” Blake curses as she arches, pushing her chest toward her, and Yang rewards her with a broad stroke of her tongue against her nipple, bringing her hand up to palm at the other and give it as much attention as she deserves. “Yang.”
Blake’s hands fall to the bedsheets to grip them in white-knuckled fists, an open moan escaping that only serves to drive Yang on even more. She has such a beautiful voice. She wants to hear more of it. So badly.
It’s everything she has ever dreamed of and it’s infinitely better all at once. A surge of delight runs through her at the sheer idea that she is the one that Blake is making these sounds for. She is the one Blake is letting touch her unabashedly (she switches sides now, tries to be gentle with the metal of her prosthetic against soft flesh, but Blake seems to like it) and she is actively pleading for more. It’s her name that Blake is saying and-
Everything changes after this.
There’s that annoying, incessant thought again.
But this time, it makes her waver just the slightest bit. Breathing hard against her, attempting to distract herself from that ( true ) statement by kissing her way in the valley of Blake’s breasts, by resting more of her weight against her so their bare skin touches now and she moans softly at the sensation.
She can’t ignore it. And try as she might, those earlier doubts start to creep back in at the most inconvenient moment.
Everything changes after this… and what if it’s for the worse?
What if she regrets this tomorrow morning?
What if everything gets awkward?
What if this is just a one-time thing for her and-
“Yang.”
She blinks to herself, discovering that she has stopped kissing her body and only lightly rests her forehead against Blake’s belly, having been making her way downward now to make due on her promise and follow the path she marked earlier with her fingers on her partner’s thighs. Yang clears her throat, goes to restart, hoping that Blake didn’t notice her freeze up just now.
But of course, Blake did.
“Stop a second.”
Stop.
Stop means stop.
She halts in her tracks instantly, leaning away from her now so they’re not outright touching, and keeps her eyes down until Blake pushes her chin up with her fingers. A light touch, giving Yang the option to resist, but…
Well, Yang has never been able to resist anything from her gentle hands before. She is weak to them.
There is the beginning of concern on her face, a small wrinkle between her furrowed brows. Yang wants to take everything back, to return to the rising heat and breathy moans and creating pretty marks on her. (What do you know, Yang is quite the artist as well. She takes a second to admire the smattering of hickeys.)
“What is it?” Blake searches her gaze worriedly, bareness ignored. As if she doesn’t know how distracting she is with all of that.
So unfair.
Who gave her the right to be so fucking beautiful?
“Nothing,” Yang answers much too quickly and grimaces immediately after.
Blake lets out a puff of air, brushing her fingers through her hair comfortingly. As if trying to soothe her pains and worries despite not knowing what they are or what is causing them.
In a whisper-soft voice, she points out, “You’re shaking.”
Is she now?
Yang surreptitiously peeks down to where her hand is resting on Blake’s thigh.
Shit. She is. And now that she notices it, she can feel it throughout the rest of her body. Can mark it in the unevenness of her next exhale.
Can hear it in the quiver of her voice as she sheepishly asks, “Would you believe me if I said it’s ‘cause I’m excited?”
Blake’s features soften with sympathy as she shakes her head. Already knowing it’s not because of that (and fuck, Yang can’t hide anything from her).
“Yang-“
And it’s the final straw for her.
It comes spilling out of her then. Her overbearing thoughts, her crippling doubts, her greatest fear.
“I can’t-” Even as she does everything she can to keep it in, it comes out through gritted teeth. Guttural and rough. She looks away from Blake then, off to the side to a random part of the bed. “I can’t… wake up tomorrow and pretend that this never happened. I can’t just forget how much this means to me. And I-I can’t do this if it’s just a one-time thing, I’m sorry. I can’t, Blake. So- So if that’s all this is to you, I can’t keep-”
A hand on her cheek. A silent urging. Look at me, look at me. She squeezes her eyes shut, half of her wanting to pull away and the other half wanting to press more into it. The latter wins, veering into her palm with a wince of what can only be pain. Begging her.
Please, don’t hurt me, Blake.
Please, don’t play with my emotions.
Please, please, please.
Blake caresses a thumb against her skin- look at me, look at me- and Yang gathers every ounce of courage she can muster and braces herself for death as she lets her eyelids open. Blinking once, twice, focusing on her partner’s face.
Her heart stops.
Hope rises within her.
Because Blake has such a soft expression on her face. Warm and adoring and-
Dare she say, loving.
Yang has her answer, fears quashed completely.
“Yang,” Blake murmurs, just to drive the point home even more like a nail in her brain. She swallows, hesitates a second (perhaps from her own fears and insecurities), before finishing in the most breathtaking tone ever, “It’s not nothing.”
“No?” Yang whispers, so small but delighted like someone being handed the present they’ve so desperately wanted for years.
“No,” Blake gives a little tug with her fingers hooking at her jaw and Yang wanders upward, allowing herself to be drawn along. Wherever she wants, she’ll go. “I’m going to remember this tomorrow and for the rest of my life. And should our lives allow it, I really don’t want this to be a one-time thing. I want this to work. I want us to work.”
Us…
She’s so happy she could cry.
Instead, she kisses Blake deeply and hopes that conveys all of her gratitude and joy and love, love, love. And the greatest part?
Blake reciprocates.
Everything changes after this.
And with the way it’s looking, it’s going to be for the better.
Yang parts from her with a gasp, panting for air. So close, so close, so close, her nose brushes against Blake’s as her partner so tenderly frames her face with her hands, fingers committing her to memory. Gold has never looked so beautiful, with pupils blown wide and full of devotion and passion and-
“I lo-“
It’s done so quickly, Yang nearly jumps in surprise. Blake places a finger against her lips, shushing her. Interrupting her from declaring those three words she knows to be true.
“Despite how special this is to me,” Blake whispers, a tad regretful. Frightened. Nervous, nervous, nervous. “I’m not… ready to hear that, Yang. That- That doesn’t mean this means less to me, I’m just…” She shies away from Yang, pressing more into the bed underneath her and slightly curling into herself as though waiting for her to blow up on her about this. She leaves her finger in its place. “I-I hope that’s okay, I’m sorry, I-“
“Hey, hey,” Yang places the gentlest of kisses to the tip of her finger already there, bringing her hand up to grab Blake’s and hold it to her chest. “You don’t have to apologize. That’s completely okay, Blake.”
“Really?” Blake’s ears perk up, her features brightening. (Yang has the passing thought of cute that she lets warm her up.)
“You’re not ready to hear it,” she shrugs simply and gives her as reassuring a grin as she can. “So I won’t say it.”
“But, you…”
“I’d rather show you instead anyway,” Yang not-so-secretly trails the marks she made down, down, down with her eyes, lifting away from her to see the lowest one and back up. “If that’s okay with you?”
“Actions do speak louder than words,” Blake mutters, bringing her closer again so their foreheads can bump together, and Yang takes that second to inhale deeply. Lilac and jasmine, it’s quickly becoming her favorite smell. There’s a second of delay on her partner’s part before she adds, “But if you do want to say it, just… say my name instead. Whenever you want to say it, use my name.”
“I can do that,” Yang smiles, tenderly pressing their lips together. No longer afraid to ruin this fragile balance they’ve achieved, but rather, simply wanting to treasure her with all the gentleness in a world that has shown Blake none. Against her mouth, Yang whispers an aching, loving, “Blake.”
I love you.
Beneath her, Blake trembles before summarily dragging her down for a deeper kiss that Yang throws herself into willingly. One of them releases a groan and it might be her, she can’t completely tell.
And now that she knows this is not nothing, that only makes Yang determined. Over the moon with joy, certainly. But determined to please her partner in a way that just hearing that and knowing that does to her. Almost like a thank you.
Almost like an I’ll make sure you won’t regret this.
She skims her hands down, enjoying the way it makes Blake writhe and push more into her in a silent beg of a firmer touch, as if she can’t get enough, and breaks away from their kiss to coast over her jaw, down her throat and pecking sweetly over her pounding heartbeat. Yang keeps her hands on her legs, slowly sliding inward to the softer and warmer skin on the inside of her thighs, not wanting to startle her as she pushes them further apart.
And because she has waited long enough and Blake has waited long enough, Yang does not drag it out any longer and gives in to her desires. With a simple act, she slides her hand from Blake’s thigh to between her legs, pressing against her over the fabric of her underwear that does not hinder the sensation whatsoever.
At first, her partner jerks her hips away, perhaps caught by surprise, clenching at Yang's biceps with her nails digging into her muscles. Yang kisses her on the chest again. Gentle, encouraging. Slowly moving her hand forward once more, feeling the way her underwear has become wet from her arousal. It makes her own skyrocket, just knowing the effect she has on Blake.
“You can move as much as you want,” Yang whispers, kissing her way back up and nibbling underneath her jaw. Enjoying the way she tips her head back and bites her lip. “I know you’re trying to stop yourself.”
Not even in a sexual way, she knows Blake’s body. Born from constantly fighting at each other’s sides. She knows every twitch of muscle, every directional change, every potential attack as well as she does her own. They’ve had to learn, that’s what makes them so formidable.
…She just never expected it to come in handy now.
(Then again, she never expected she would be lucky enough to do this.)
Yang is eager to learn more.
“Yang.” It sounds like a plea of some kind and Yang responds to it by taking Blake’s bottom lip between her teeth, her partner weakly reciprocating it as her hips jerk once but stops.
“Go ahead, Blake,” she whispers in her ear, kissing the spot underneath it that causes Blake to let out another keening whine. “Show me how much you want me.”
Blake turns her head in the other direction. Whether to hide her blush or present herself more for Yang, she can’t entirely tell. But before she can take it back, one of Blake’s hands lowers between them and grabs at her wrist. Keeping her steady, pulling her forward while she rolls her hips up, starting to grind against her in a slow rhythm at first.
Yang allows her to do so, watching her reactions carefully through hooded eyes, memorizing the movements. She repositions to be able to take her nipple into her mouth again, enjoying the moan it draws from Blake and helps her along by following the rhythm with her hand. It causes a break in the pattern, unexpected, but Blake only lets out a high-pitched whine and picks up the pace afterward.
Her dreams can never compare to this.
Her dreams could never account for the way Blake trembles with sheer want against her, jerking her hips desperately to reach that glorious end just on Yang’s hand. Her dreams could never account for the feeling of her slickness and warmth even through the article of clothing. Her dreams could never account for the way Blake says her name over and over as though it is her one tether to sanity (I love you, I love you, I love you).
Yang has never wanted to live in the real world more than now.
“You’re so fucking sexy, Blake,” Yang exhales a hot breath against her chest, peering down between their bodies, and groans deeply. It’s one thing feeling what they’re doing, it’s another thing seeing it and… “I want to feel you, I need to- Can I-“
“Please,” Blake gasps, not stopping to give her the chance to actually do so but begging nonetheless. “Yang, please ”
Since she has to take her hand away in order to strip her of her underwear, which implies stopping this now, Yang crashes their lips together to make up for it. Blake clutches her head with both of her hands, letting her go so she can rip the underwear off of her. Not actually ripping it. At least, she hopes.
She thinks she hears a faint tear but chooses to ignore it.
Whatever. It’s not important right now.
What is important is touching Blake again as soon as possible.
“Yang, I need-“
“Shh,” Yang coos softly, smiling against her lips when Blake releases a throaty moan as Yang pushes her palm back against her. It makes her own lashes flutter, just the feel of Blake at her fingertips, and she presses lazy, open-mouthed kisses along her collarbone. “I got you, Blake. You can start moving again whenever you want, I’ll follow your lead.”
It takes a second. Long enough for her palm and fingers to become lubricated with Blake’s arousal as she gently strokes her. She longs for a taste but shelves that in the back of her mind for later.
Later, later, later.
When she does start to move, there is a clear path that Yang follows from clit to entrance and she hyper-focuses on where Blake wants her most. Everywhere, everywhere . It’s a shame she can’t fulfill that and touch her everywhere all at once. She only has her hands and her mouth to work with. But she draws small, tight circles with the tips of two fingers, for the most part letting Blake do as she pleases.
Yang snakes other hand to the small of Blake’s back, fingers curled to dig in slightly and help her- encourage her to move faster. Blake grips onto her shoulders to keep herself steady, nails digging in with a delicious bite it makes Yang yearn to feel them rake down the rest of her body. Leave their own little marks behind.
(Yeah, they definitely won’t have energy for a fight tomorrow. Maybe they can stay here an extra day?)
“Gods, you’re so beautiful,” Yang bites down on the underside of her breast, smirking at the way it makes Blake’s careful rhythm become erratic, knocked off its course. “Just grinding against my hand like this. You were waiting for me to come to you tonight, weren’t you?”
Blake doesn’t respond. Can’t respond, too lost in the motion of her hips, and Yang hums low in her throat as she shifts her hand around to the front of Blake’s body, pressing down and effectively stopping her. It draws quite the sound of disappointment (a hint of a growl as well that sends a pleasant shiver down her spine), but she likes to think she makes up for it as she slides her fingers higher to target her clit with a deliberate, firm press.
She holds fast as her partner bucks against her, keeping her still, and Yang arches her back into the bite of Blake’s nails.
“You knew exactly what you were doing,” Yang mutters with a husky chuckle, trailing one of the bite marks with her tongue. The circles she makes with her finger become faster, more focused than before. “And it worked like a charm, Blake. I can’t get you out of my mind, every second of every day. Do you know how hard it is to control myself when all I to want to do is-“
Yang stops. Only because Blake abruptly reaches down to her wrist in a weak grasp, but the action is clear and Yang cuts herself off in an instant, lifting her hand away and studying her partner closely. A bit concerned.
Blake is a wreck and it’s marvelous. Her chest heaves for air and her cheeks are flushed, lips parted with her pants and eyes lidded in a smolder. There is a thin layer of either sweat or saliva on her, maybe both. Yang has certainly made the valiant effort to take Blake up on her words and leave as many marks as she wants, no part of her torso left untouched by at least one.
“What’s wrong?” Yang stays as still as possible, not wanting to make any sudden moves. “Was that too much?”
“No,” Blake says, to her surprise, and she knows it to be true with the dreamy grin that appears on her lips. “No, that was… hot.”
“Too hot?”
“A little overwhelming, but,” Blake visibly swallows and she glances away. Bashful. (Adorable.) “It’s more because I…” She clears her throat, composes herself with a breath, guides Yang’s hand away to resist temptation. Yang places it back on the bed beside her, waiting for her to finish.
“You?” Yang nuzzles against her navel sweetly. “I won’t judge if that’s what you’re afraid of.”
“I usually like to tease myself,” Blake boldly meets her in the eye and Yang takes that information and slots it to the part of her brain reserved only for her partner. “To make it better and… make it last longer overall.”
“Is that why you would sometimes take those super long showers at Beacon?” Yang asks teasingly with a raise of her brow and it makes Blake’s blush deepen.
“…Maybe…”
“Good to know,” Yang hums simply before directing her attention back to Blake. “Although, you don’t have to worry about making this last longer.”
“I don’t?”
“Nope,” she lowers her head, giving a quick bite to Blake’s hip and enjoying the way she jerks. In a sultry, low timbre, Yang looks up at Blake from beneath her lashes, cocking her head to the side. “We can go all night, Blake. Who says we’re stopping after just one?”
“Oh,” her tone goes raspy.
“I’ll give you one.” Yang shakes her head slowly, gradually making her way up Blake’s body as though she were a beast stalking up to a cornered prey. Pausing briefly to leave another fleeting nip at her ribs, “And another.”
Higher, higher up. To the side of her breast, mouthing at it and sucking for a second; “And another.”
Blake goes to touch her in return, perhaps to yank her back down and interrupt her like last time. But Yang grabs her by the wrists, pausing momentarily to kiss both of her palms and send her a pleading expression. Silently asking for permission. At her nod, Yang lowers Blake’s arms until she has them pinned above her head on the pillow, by the headboard. Relaxed, making sure Blake is comfortable first and foremost.
And then she continues, running her tongue along the hollow of her throat and whispering, “And another.”
She ghosts her lips along the muscles of her neck, her racing pulse, “As many as you want, until you can’t take anymore.”
Yang finishes her journey to her ear, Blake helping her along by pivoting her head aside.
“And then I’ll give you one more after that.”
It pulls a whimper from Blake, her partner’s knees squeezing against her waist as though she had been trying to press her thighs together and squirm away. Yang, satisfied, leans away to look at her face, letting go of Blake’s wrists as she sits back on her heels.
“How does that sound?”
“What happened,” Blake released a breathy laugh, “to you being a nervous wreck?”
“Well, now that I know this means something to you too and it’s not just sex,” Yang traces the path of hickeys she made with the tips of her fingers, and she beams at her partner, “I’m not as nervous.”
“No kidding.”
“Now I just want to make you feel as good as possible. I’ve wanted this for so long, I don’t want to disappoint.”
“You could never,” Blake pushes up against one (shaking) hand until she’s sitting with Yang between her legs, drawing her in for a comforting kiss. “You’re not the only one who’s wanted this.”
I love you, I love you, I-
“Blake,” she breathes out her name like a prayer.
And Blake stares at her for a second, registering the meaning behind it, and she responds with; “Yang.”
I love you too.
Before she can surge forward and pick up right where they left off, Blake halts her with her fingers splayed against the flat of her chest, the two of them so close and so far and-
“I want to touch you,” Blake doesn’t keep her waiting long. Shy and hopeful. “Will you let me?”
Oh.
…She doesn’t know why that possibility slipped her mind.
Yang has been so focused on Blake she forgot that, hey, maybe Blake wants to touch her too which is all kinds of exciting and strange to consider. Exciting because… Blake. But strange because she never thought she’d be here.
She’s not used to being this lucky. For her feelings to be reciprocated. For Blake to want her as much as Yang does.
All she can do is let out a croaky, “Sure, yeah, okay,” in a breaking voice and try not to die of embarrassment.
It makes Blake smile though and she slides her hand from Yang’s chest to the back of her neck to close the distance between the two. And this kiss is different- Yang can feel it in her heart, her bones, her soul (she swears her aura almost sparks with excitement)- and she falls more than willingly into it to deepen it.
There is passion and desire, yes, that is undeniable… but there is also something tender. Meaningful. Something so much more profound than temporary lust that will go away once Blake is satisfied.
There is comfort and familiarity and safety.
Yang is safe here. She can be as vulnerable as she wants to be. Stripping off more than just the layers of her clothes, metaphorical walls and emotional shields clattering to the ground in defeat until she is laid bare in every sense of the word. In body, in heart, in soul.
When Blake hooks her legs at her hips and flips them around, Yang is trembling again. With anticipation. With excitement. Maybe even a bit of fear, insecurities creeping in the corners of her mind like buzzing flies and pesky slithering shadows. (What if she changes her mind? What if she doesn’t like what she sees? What if-)
But she trusts Blake.
She is safe here.
“If at any point you’re uncomfortable,” Blake murmurs like a secret, her face so close, and Yang just wants to get closer. The gold of her eyes is but a sliver, pupils dilated, and it’s like finding treasure. “Tell me to stop, alright?”
“Alright,” she quickly nods, unable to find it in herself to make a joke or a quip because that’ll break the beautiful veil on this moment.
“Good,” Blake gives the sweetest of kisses to her cheek before she leans away, shuffling back on her knees so she could grab the bundled overalls low at Yang’s waist. She nearly forgot they were there at all. Blake slips her fingers underneath the bunched fabric, her touch so cool against Yang’s heated skin. “Lift your hips for me.”
She does as she’s told because of course and is partially convinced she’ll suffocate because Yang forgets to breathe from the sight of Blake taking off the rest of her clothes for her. Down her hips, her legs, over her knees. She also manages to bring Yang’s boyshorts along with the gear, exposing her.
When it’s off, Blake tosses it to the floor at the foot of the bed where her catsuit sits in a pile, wasting no time in turning back around to look at her. Take her all in. She does not rush in her marveling, eyes trailing meticulously up Yang’s body.
Yang tries to stay as still as possible for her. But it’s a bit hard to do because she has never been the best at sitting still even when Blake isn’t looking at her like she wants to devour her (and Yang will let her).
“You are a dream come true.” When Blake finally breaks the silence, their eyes meeting across the distance, there is a noticeable husk to her tone. Appreciative. “I don’t think the word beautiful does you justice.”
“I think you’re talking about yourself there, Blake.”
“No.” Yang should be embarrassed how just a simple touch of Blake’s hands at her thighs makes her breath hitch, her blush increasing, but she can’t even comprehend embarrassment because Blake is touching her and that wipes away all sense of understanding. “I know who I’m talking about, Yang.”
And then her hands start to trail up right as she lowers herself, maintaining eye contact all the while. Her nails prick at Yang’s hips in a firm grip (and Yang hopes, hopes, hopes that crescent moons are left behind there) at the same instant Blake ducks her head, her tongue flicking a nipple before taking it into her mouth.
A full-body shudder passes through her and the groan she releases is strangled, instinctively raising her arms to grab a hold of Blake.
But Blake moves faster than her, hands leaving from her hips to capture her wrists and pin them to the bed on either side of Yang. It’s a little startling but it only makes her whine; both because Blake’s nails are gone and she instantly misses the subtle sting and because Blake stops sucking on her nipple too.
“Hands to yourself, Yang.” There is something nigh mischievous in Blake’s tone now, a warning glinting somewhere in gold that burns bright and intense.
Already breathless, Yang manages to choke out, “You’re trying to kill me.”
“Hmm,” Blake gives a one-shoulder shrug and fucking winks. “Only a little death.”
Yep.
Definitely going to die.
…Yang is here for it.
But first.
“Will you punish me if I misbehave?” Yang does not hide the way she glances down at their naked bodies and back up again.
Without missing a beat, Blake counters with, “I’d rather reward you for listening.”
Fuck.
“You’re so unfair,” Yang bemoans but makes it obvious that she grabs onto the bed sheets.
She can keep her hands to herself. How hard can that be?
Blake snickers. She releases her hold from Yang’s wrists, her palms resting flat against her stomach, fingers fanned out to encompass her as much as possible. A thoughtful expression comes and goes and she asks soon after, “Do you like it when I’m rough? Because I can be gentle if you want.”
With the tip of a finger on one side, Blake follows the little indentations left behind from her nails (crescent moons, just like Yang wished for) at her hip. A pointed act.
“No! No, umm.” The thought of not feeling her nails against her skin, all the lovely marks she’ll miss out on, makes Yang stammer and she clears her throat to try and regain some semblance of composure. “You can be rough, I can take it. I’m a tough girl.”
Blake frees a hum that sounds like a deep purr and Yang feels like she’s made the best mistake of her life as her partner starts to kiss along the curve of her shoulder, her fingers curling slightly against her abdomen. “Is that so?”
Something is coming and she doesn’t know what but fuck does she want it.
“Yeah, absolutely.” The shaking of her voice really accentuates how tough she is. Clearly.
“You want me to be rough?”
“Yes, I-“
A hiss of pain and pleasure cuts her response short as Blake, without warning, sinks her teeth into the junction where neck meets shoulder. Simultaneously, her nails drag down Yang’s abs in a way that makes her head spin pleasantly.
She nearly forgets she has to keep her hands to herself- okay, so maybe it is hard to do- but she catches herself at the last second (she deserves a reward, she has no idea how she does it) and tightens her grip on the poor bed sheets until her knuckles turn white. Her body arches against Blake’s hands, head tipping aside to give her more room as she moans.
Blake soothes the bite with a drag of her tongue, the scratches with a tracing of her fingers. She bumps her nose against the side of Yang’s jaw, whispering, “Like that?”
“Gods, Blake,” Yang squeezes her eyes shut, letting out a harsh pant. “What are you doing to me?”
“Would you like me to stop?”
“Don’t you dare.” She lifts her head to gaze at Blake as though appalled at the very suggestion, eyes narrowed. Blake releases another purr, nestling her head into the crook of her neck and inhaling deeply.
“You were right earlier,” Blake slides her hands up her body and Yang doesn’t know whether to mourn or not as she goes past her breasts and near the top of her shoulders. “I was waiting for you tonight. Just hoping you would come over to my bed- and you didn’t disappoint.”
Blake leaves her own marks. With her nails instead of teeth, scratches instead of hickeys. The slow descent of her hands again makes Yang clutch the bedsheets for dear life as her nails drag down the length of her body a second time. Blake follows the red slashes with delicate kisses, the touch of her lips made more sensitive from the treatment.
Yang bucks her hips uselessly with another whine and Blake must give her sympathy because it doesn’t take long until one of her legs is pressing against her, providing some surface for her to grind on that she takes immediately. Blake repositions her hands at her sides and Yang lets go of the sheets to instead grab onto the headboard above her, muscles flexing.
She forgets the rest of existence entirely.
Forgets that they’re at an inn Gods know where with a name that constantly changes depending on who is in charge and a bunch of Faunus who clearly dislike Blake (for some reason) and them (for being humans). There is only Blake’s nails streaking across her skin to leave behind her own marks that only Yang will know of with delicious sparks of pain that feed her semblance and her with energy.
Forgets that the entire world is hunting them and trying to take her sister from her for a ridiculous plan that may not even work. There is only Blake’s leg between both of hers that she leaves a wet trail on but that her partner doesn’t complain about (and encourages with a brief squeeze to her hips, pulling her forward more in a silent demand to grind down harder. Yang listens).
Forgets her doubts and insecurities and worries regarding her partner because there is only Blake’s voice right by her ear, giving her praises and reminding her how beautiful she is because Yang will surely forget that too.
And also, forgets that she’s supposed to keep her hands to herself. Too preoccupied with the heat and the pleasure and the pain and Blake, Blake, Blake.
She’s not even aware she’s doing it. Her hands must have a mind of their own.
Blake stops, mouth over her breast, and the marks she had been leaving on the underside of her thighs come to a sudden end and Yang is forced to halt in her grinding when her partner pins her hips down. Yang would fight back- can fight back very easily- but she is weak to those magical hands and it makes her compliant.
“Yang,” Blake murmurs, breath coasting across the wetness on Yang’s skin that came from her saliva.
There’s something dangerous, something almost threatening in her tone. Something dark. It reminds Yang of their time in one of the previous Faunus outposts they encountered, near the beginning of their journey. When the vendor threatened to turn them in for a bounty, Blake had unveiled a side of herself that Yang had never seen (but thought was so damn sexy).
It makes her swallow thickly hearing it again.
“What did I say about your hands?”
“To… keep them to myself.”
“Mhm,” Blake raises a brow, “and where are they now?”
“…In my defense-“
“Where,” Blake sinks her nails against her thighs again and Yang grunts, “are they now?”
“In your hair,” Yang answers, running her thumbs against the soft fuzz of her cat ears, (gentle, not wanting to accidentally hurt them). She cherishes it for a second before pulling them away, plopping them on the bed as she spreads her arms on either side of her. “In my defense, you really can’t expect me not to touch you, Blake. That’s like asking me not to breathe.”
Maybe a bit of hyperbole, but that’s not the point.
“And you were doing so good too,” Blake sighs forlornly, and just like that, her hands are gone and her leg is gone and she’s not touching Yang anymore and Yang does not care, she will beg right now if she must. “But I guess you don’t get a reward now.”
“Blake, please,” she runs a shaking hand down her face, squeezing her legs together. “I was so close.”
“Then you’ll have to finish yourself off.”
The words take a second, two seconds, three seconds to register in her mind before she’s leaning on one of her elbows, blushing deeply as she croaks, “What?”
Blake sits casually like she is on a throne where she is between her legs, pushing a palm against Yang’s knee to open her up more and expose her. Her eyes don’t wander, firmly holding stunned purple.
“I want to see you ruin yourself,” she waves a hand to all of Yang. “Touch yourself the way you like and I will watch every second of it.” Those lovely, lovely lips pull into a smirk that does things to her, drawling, “Give me a show, Yang.”
The only thing Yang can respond with is a breathless little, “Fuck.”
This girl. Just…
This girl.
That’s it. That explains it.
The lack of touch makes her shiver and she is so very exposed with her legs open and Blake sitting between them and staring at her and she is for sure certain that there is a permanent blush on her face now. She bites her lip, and Blake must pick up on it because she leans forward to peck Yang’s knee there, thumb rubbing gentle circles against it.
“Unless you aren’t comfortable, of course. If that’s the case, I have many other ideas.”
As interested (incredibly interested) in these ‘other ideas’ she claims to have…
Yang declines the obvious out, “You want a show?”
She sits up just enough to adjust the pillows behind her so she isn’t lying flat on her back, propped up by them and a little higher against the headboard. Blake follows after her, always keeping one hand against Yang’s knee. As though to tether her here, remind her that she’s here.
“I’ll fucking give you a show then.”
Not that it’ll last long, she’s already so worked up.
She starts slow. Not because she usually does it slow, she actually prefers to dive right into it, but because Blake is watching and she wants to drag this out for longer. Maybe even make this backfire on Blake too, it’s worth a try.
Keeping her eyes on Blake, Yang slides her hands against her thighs going toward her body, running her fingers along the inside of them and getting teasingly close to where she needs to be touched most but trailing away at the last second. Up her stomach, she lowers her gaze now to look at the evidence of Blake’s nails and can’t help but grin. Thrilled at the sight of red lines.
“These make it easier,” she remarks, following the clear path she can make out with each line. Something almost fond about it, something almost proud. A quick peek up to her partner reveals Blake watching intently, her grip on Yang’s knee tightening as though to restrain herself.
Yang doesn’t want that.
She wants her to break all sense of composure.
So, she lowers one of her hands down between her legs while the other remains momentarily idle below her chest. Blake’s eyes instantly follow the journey and Yang can see her visibly swallow.
“I’m not a fan of penetration,” Yang mutters just loud enough to be heard. “So, I’ll usually just…”
She leans more comfortably against the pillows now as she makes contact, wetting her fingers with her own slick and applying a light pressure at first. Her eyes close on their own accord, on instinct, and a pleased sigh expels from her throat. And normally, alone, she’d fantasize about Blake (ashamed as she is to admit it at times), being the one touching her. Loving her. Whispering sweet nothings in her ear.
But as she forces her eyes to peek open and Blake is actually there and she can sense the way she holds her by the leg, well…
Yang angles her hips better, presses more against herself until a quiet moan of Blake’s name slips from her tongue. Her other hand lifts now, grasping at her breast and rubbing a metallic thumb against her nipple. Ever familiar with the texture of her prosthetic now, as long as it’s been.
“Blake,” she speaks through her heavier breaths, achieving a steady rhythm now and whimpers when she looks again and sees smoldering golden eyes tracking her every move as though entranced. Hardly lifting from between her legs, but occasionally studying the rest of her actions too, the flushness to her face. “I won’t last long like this, you-“
“Faster.”
Yang groans as she obliges. Forget the slow, she’s too fucking impatient for slow. Not when Blake is watching.
She speeds up, tight and concentrated circles at her clit, and she presses her heels against the bed so her hips can move as well to chase the sensation. The muscles in her thighs flex with the strain but she doesn’t mind the burn.
“Blake. Blake,” Yang moans freely, uncaring about everything else as her eyes squeeze shut. She can feel her partner’s gaze on her and it’s addicting. Maddening. Her hand that has been busy playing with her nipples shoots upward until she’s grabbing at her own neck, tilting her head back to do so. Not gripping too hard that it’ll leave marks, but enough for a subtle pressure. “I’m so close, please! Blake-“
She halts with a whine when Blake abruptly gives her wrist a tug, stopping her (again), but Yang can’t even think to complain because her partner moves swiftly. Repositioning flat on her stomach, placing Yang’s legs onto her shoulders, fingers digging into her thighs as she leans in and-
“Fuck!” Yang all but sobs when Blake licks a long line up against her, gathering her wetness against her tongue and making the both of them moan. She does it again and again, swift to familiarize herself with Yang, and each one brings her that much closer to that glorious end.
Yang goes to grab for her hair, but considering that made her partner stop earlier, she hesitates. “Please let me touch you, please, can I-“
Blake doesn’t answer verbally- her mouth is a little busy after all- but she grabs Yang’s wrist again and guides it to the top of her head. Cautious with her cat ears, Yang twines her fingers through her hair lightly, letting out a broken moan of her partner’s name as she guides her exactly where she needs her.
Blake must be an expert on picking up on her body’s cues as well. She starts to suck on her clit and Yang is speeding toward the cliff now.
Oh, she’s ready to soar.
She tries to hold off as long as possible. Just so this can last longer. Just so she can experience this for a few seconds more.
But between how close she already is and her bucking hips and the fact that it’s Blake doing this to her, making her feel these things, it’s a hopeless mission. (Points for trying though.)
What ultimately breaks her isn’t the delicious pleasure of Blake’s tongue or the delightful sting of those nails on her thighs keeping her steady and open and vulnerable or the faint vibration that comes from her partner’s groans.
It’s the fact that when she finds the strength to peek down, which is a task and a half already, Blake is looking directly at her.
It shatters her.
Destruction has never felt so fucking good.
She’s faintly aware of the way she arches into Blake and squeezes her thighs together and moans her partner’s name, but Yang is honestly attentive to nothing but the pleasure that crashes into her with the force of a shotgun burst. Despite knowing it’s coming, it forces the air from her lungs and she is left winded and panting. Blake helps her through it, prolonging it until Yang absolutely can’t take anymore and she has to give a small push and a whimper as her one way to tell her to stop.
She comes back to her senses little bit little like drops of rain on the windowsill, everything slowly returning from that free-floating feeling until she is grounded to the prick of nails. It makes her moan, guttural and grateful, and it takes a lot more effort than it probably should to draw in a breath.
Yang manages somehow, staring up at the ceiling for a handful of seconds before her gaze inevitably drifts back down and she’s pretty sure the dopiest of grins appears on her face. Her thumb traces one of Blake’s cat ears tenderly, adoringly. Heart swelling with affection.
Blake lowers one of Yang’s legs down first before the other, wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand before she begins kissing her way slowly up the length of Yang’s body. Following the paths she made previously like they are a map she has set for herself.
She wants to say something but the only thing that comes to mind is I love you so she keeps it in and mutters a soft, “Blake,” instead that carries the weight of her emotions.
Blake hums, something pivotal in the way she leaves a lingering kiss over her heartbeat, and leans closer against her. Yang places her hands on her hips, pressing her nose into her hair as Blake butts her head gently against her jaw, lips trailing toward her ear.
And a shaky, desperate, begging, “Yang,” shoots adrenaline through her veins and Yang gasps when Blake- so easily, so naturally- straddles one of her legs and grinds down against her with a slow, agonizing pace.
Suddenly, Yang isn’t so tired and boneless anymore.
She surges upward until she’s sitting properly upright, hands tightening on Blake’s hips as her partner starts to rock against her steadily. Hiding herself against Yang’s shoulder with a quivering moan beneath her breath- as though she wants only Yang to hear it; so small, so soft, so fragile- and presses closer to her. Chest-to-chest, skin-to skin, with just enough room for her to continue her motion. Her arms wrap around Yang, hands finding a safe place in her hair and grabbing on as if in preparation.
“Blake.” It comes out rough and croaky and she can feel the wet and warmth against her thigh and what kind of partner would she be if she didn’t assist her? Yang flexes the muscles in her leg, adjusting a bit to provide a more stable surface. One hand remains on her hip while her other palm skims around to grab at her ass, pushing her along. At her ear, she murmurs, “Come out of hiding, I want to see you.”
Blake grunts softly and takes a second, pausing momentarily, until she leans back enough for her to see her face. Hands moving from her hair to balance against her shoulders for a beat, fingers opening and closing before they hook at the back of her neck.
And immediately, without even meaning to, Yang melts, “How are you so damn beautiful?”
Blake smiles. Pleased. A little shy, even.
But then she starts grinding against her thigh again and that is not shy whatsoever. Not when she knows exactly what she’s doing, like she’s been planning this exact scenario from the start.
“Do you feel that?” Blake plays with the baby hairs at the back of her neck and Yang’s throat goes dry. She bites her lip as her next particular thrust is not as gentle, spreading her slick against her skin, and Yang wants more than anything to taste her.
“Yeah,” she whispers past the tightness in her throat, unsure if Blake can actually hear her.
Whether or not she does, Blake continues.
“You did this to me.” For all her acclaimed nerves, Blake has no issue with saying these things while looking her directly in the eye and it’s Yang who wants to shy away. But she is transfixed, absolutely enthralled, lost so far into gold she has no way of getting out (not that she wants to). “Watching you. Hearing you. Touching you. Tasting you; Gods, Yang, you were so good.”
“Really?” Yang murmurs, leaning toward her to close the distance, smiling. “Let me just…”
She kisses her deeply, tasting herself upon Blake’s tongue with a groan. Blake immediately grasps onto her hair, a rumbling sound of satisfaction coming from her chest. Yang grabs onto her ass with both hands now, slowing her movement but pressing more against her in the process as well.
They’re both panting heavily as they part and Blake bumps their foreheads together, soaking her in and closing her eyes to catch her breath as Yang continues scattering her with pecks wherever she can reach. The corner of her mouth, the side of her jaw, her nose, her cheek, over her eyelid. Fingers trailing up the center of her spine, the curve of her back, holding her with all the carefulness in the world as she tilts her head back enough for a breath to separate them.
Blake focuses on her and it’s like all the pieces of the puzzle have slotted together so perfectly. Gold with purple.
I love you.
I trust you.
Slowly, with a slight twitch to her fingers that she ignores, Yang presents her hand to her partner without a word. Blake peeks down at it for only a moment, registering the silent act.
Do you trust me too?
Catching her breath, Blake grabs her hand in both of hers, (delicate, delicate, delicate), bringing it up to kiss the tips of her fingers. Holding on for a second, two seconds, as though considering her response.
Yang gives her that time. Knows no fear.
She already has her answer.
This was just a precaution to make sure she had it right.
(She does.)
At five seconds, Blake manipulates her fingers until she has two of them available. Daring gold holds starstruck purple as she brings them closer, first giving another fleeting kiss to the tips.
And then her eyes flutter shut as she slowly takes them into her mouth and Yang can feel her entire arm wanting to shake but by the Gods she somehow manages to keep a hold on it. It takes everything within her not to fall apart again, feeling the ridges of her teeth and the press of her tongue and the softness of her lips.
“Gorgeous,” she whispers beneath her breath, unintentionally for the most part. And when Blake gives a little hum of delight, Yang can feel the vibration of it.
Eventually, when Blake deems them wet enough, she pulls them out with a slow, parting lick and studies the way they glisten in the faint bit of moonlight coming in from the closed window with sealed-shut curtains that have a handful of holes in them. The silver paints a streak across her partner, accentuating the color of her eyes.
Eyes that tick back to Yang’s face, her awed expression.
“Can I?” Blake asks in a soft tone, and a part of Yang knows what she means while the other half has no idea but she’s eager to learn.
“You can do whatever you want.” And she means it, and it’s scary, but most of all- “I’m yours.”
The scariest thing of all.
But the corners of Blake’s eyes crinkle with mirth so she knows she’s said the right thing. Yang can’t help but grin along with her.
Without any more hesitation on her part, Blake starts to lower their hands. Down, down, down the expanse of her body. Passing all the marks Yang left behind. Blake maneuvers a bit so she’s not completely against Yang’s thigh, providing room for her to fit there.
“I want you inside, Yang.”
Oh, fuck.
She’s never wanted anything more now.
Blake leads her down to the coarse hair there but leaves it up to her then and Yang focuses all of her mental capacity to not fuck this up. The angle is different from earlier, when she was touching her previously, but she likes to think she gets the hang of it. (The back of her hand rubs against her thigh that’s coated with Blake’s slick and it makes her clench her jaw tightly to focus and not get distracted by the fact that Blake is so aroused she’s practically dripping.)
The first touch is tender, as always. Sliding against her for… To be honest, because Yang wants to. She has no reason, her fingers are wet enough. But it’s an excuse to touch Blake so of course she’s taking it.
Her partner releases a pleased sound, subtly pushing down against her. She presses the side of her head against hers, sighing in contentment. But, ever the impatient one, it doesn’t take long until this isn’t enough for her and she releases a throaty whine right by Yang’s ear.
“Yang,” Blake rolls her hips again, as if trying to get Yang’s fingers in her by herself. “I said-“
Yang turns her head aside, leaving a sweet kiss to her temple and smiling against her skin. “I know, Blake. I got you. I got you…”
A tiny gasp escapes her partner as Yang finally grants her wish, pushing both fingers in. Slowly, slowly, slowly. Her other hand keeps an iron grip at Blake’s hip to keep her steady and stop her from potentially moving (a good thing too, since Blake’s first instinct to touch has her trying to pull away. An instinct born from only ever knowing pain at the hands of those she trusted). Past the first knuckle, just past the second and stopping to give her time to breathe.
Blake initially slumps into her shoulder, grabbing onto her shoulder blades, until she inhales harshly (as though she’s forgotten she’s supposed to be doing that) and arches away. Slightly higher on her knees than before to get a better angle. She tilts her head back with a strained breath.
“Fuck, your fingers are bigger than mine.”
Sure, Yang already knows that- has often compared her hand size to Blake’s just for the fun of it (and fawned over how she can completely envelop her if she wanted to; for safety, for warmth, for love)- but hearing it in this scenario makes something clench tightly within her. Because Blake says it as though she appreciates that little tidbit, and the way she tries to grind down to get the rest of the length of them into her is the most telling of that.
But just to be safe, she offers; “We can start with one instead?”
Gold eyes dart to her in a heartbeat and she already has her answer even before Blake tries to get rid of that idea entirely. In a slightly shaking voice, she paws at Yang’s shoulder almost clumsily and mumbles, “No. No, I like it. I can take it. Please, Yang.”
…Blake better not ask her to kill someone or something along those lines. Because she feels like all her partner has to say is “Please, Yang,” and she’ll do it no questions asked.
Whatever she wants.
Yang circles her thumb at her hip. Kind and comforting and making up for any possible pain that might come from the stretch as she pushes the rest of the way in until she is up to the third knuckle. She watches for her reactions carefully, critically. Wanting to pinpoint any potential sign of discomfort or pain.
She gets absolutely distracted by the way Blake goes slack-jawed with a silent moan, eyes widening for a fraction of a second before she squeezes them shut and her head tips back. A quiver runs through her that Yang can feel. Foretelling a beautiful disaster approaching. Yang guides her closer with the hand at her hip, letting Blake rest her weight against her, remaining motionless within her to give her time to adjust and passing said time by placing kisses on her neck and shoulders and throat.
It is both an otherworldly and grounding experience. Yang has never focused more on anything in her life, while at the same time, she feels like she’s a second from floating away- and it is only the feel of Blake right at her fingertips that keeps her from slipping.
Another second, another kiss to her collarbone, another little sound from Blake. Yang doesn’t want to rush this, she doesn’t want to hurt her. She will hold as still as possible for as long as she needs.
But Blake herself doesn’t seem particularly fond of slow.
Yang is caught off guard when Blake abruptly lifts from her fingers, dropping back down at the same instant before Yang can even attempt to help her or stop her. She gasps while her partner moans through gritted teeth, panting harshly.
“Blake-“ She starts, concerned. Don’t hurt her, don’t hurt her.
“Yang.” It’s so sharp it’s almost cutting and she immediately shut her mouth, teeth clacking together. Dare she say there is actually a spark of irritation in her partner now (and for some reason, it makes her want to smile. Cute…), jaw clenched tightly as Yang follows the muscles in her throat with her gaze as she swallows thickly. “I… appreciate how careful you are. And it’s very touching and sweet, but please, Yang, I need you to start moving or I might just die.”
She can’t even respond as Blake nestles into her shoulder, nuzzling against her neck and leaving lazy kisses there, arms clinging to her back with another needy sound as she tries to get as close as she physically can. Unable to move her hips again because Yang has stopped her. (Is trying to, at least, but she gets away with a few little bucks that do nothing but edge her on.)
And as if that already isn’t enough to convince her, Blake begins to whisper over and over again, “I need you, I need you, please, Yang, I need you-“
What does a helpless brawler do with the woman she is completely enamored with (begging for her) except what she’s asked?
Nothing.
Blake’s moan is one of relief at first that lifts into that beautiful note of pleasure as Yang rests her free palm against her lower back to steady her and starts to move. Slow with only the first two or so thrusts, until she takes her words to heart and increases her pace bit by bit. Blake clings to her, nails digging into her spine and teeth sinking into her shoulder in a way that makes her grunt.
Her heart soars with what she gets to witness now. With the knowledge that at this moment, only she is getting to see Blake like this and make her feel these things.
If Yang somehow dies tomorrow and this is the last memory she has, then she’d leave this world a happy woman.
“Let me hear you,” Yang mutters, finding a nice rhythm that has her pulling out to the tip of her fingers and plunging back in. She nudges her shoulder where Blake is muffling herself, practically making indentations into the small of her back with how much she’s pressing into her. (She wonders if the ridges of her prosthetic will remain there as a mark of their own. She’s dying to find out.) “I want to see you.”
Blake creates some other muffled sound, perhaps a whine, and takes a bit longer to actually obey. Leaning away, the slight difference in angle has her biting her lip and it seems to take everything within her not to collapse against Yang again.
What a vision she is.
Yang will never get enough of looking at her.
How can anyone?
“Gods, you’re stunning,” Yang kisses the side of her jaw, retreating before Blake can attempt to pull her into a kiss (because she’d much rather hear her moans instead right now). She curls her fingers in a way that makes Blake curse loudly, riding her fingers in a better angle without pause. “You feel amazing, Blake. Makes me want to never stop.”
“Don’t stop,” Blake whimpers, face flushed as she prevents herself from hiding again. Perhaps an instinctive reaction on her part, not wanting to show herself in these precious moments of ultimate vulnerability, where her pleasure is on full display and she is gradually losing control of herself. “Please don’t. Don’t, Yang.”
She would never.
But just to tease…
“I don’t know,” Yang hums, feigning thought as she lets her eyes wander down (and that almost distracts her entirely from where she’s going with this, watching her fingers disappear into Blake. She has to quickly look back up, throat dry). “Weren’t you the one that said you liked to tease yourself?”
She snakes her other arm behind Blake’s back, bringing them flush together. It makes it harder from this angle to keep moving her hand in that same rhythm so she has to adjust, slowing down tremendously, but officially stopping Blake and bringing their foreheads together. Blake grabs onto her hair, the flash of pain from her pulling causing her semblance to simmer deliciously.
“I can bring you right to the very edge,” Yang continues in a whisper, leisurely curling her fingers as they enter. “And I can stop at the last second.”
“Please…” It comes out warbled and faint, Blake unable to do anything more other than holding on tighter and pressing her forehead more against hers, nuzzling into her.
“You know, I never used to see the appeal of it. Teasing. But now I do,” Yang bumps her nose against hers, inhaling deeply. “Every touch becomes a mercy. You don’t know if I’ll stop or if I’ll keep going. If I’ll let you come this time or drag it out for longer.”
She continues her idle movements while Blake keeps her eyes closed, apparently concentrating on not falling apart.
“You can certainly beg,” Yang lets out a husky laugh, “But I don’t need to listen.”
Blake swallows thickly before she finds her voice, “Do you want me to beg?” Her lashes part and Yang trembles beneath her gaze. “Because I don’t give a damn, I’ll start begging.”
“Do you really want me that bad?”
“Yes,” Blake does not hesitate in responding, shyness and nerves be damned. “Yes, I want you to fuck me, Yang. That’s all I want right now, so if you’ll please stop talking and put your mouth to better use, I’d really enjoy that.”
Yang wears the goofiest grin for such a statement like that.
Much too adoringly, she coos, “I love it when you’re feisty.”
(Love. Too dangerous of a word for tonight.
But it doesn’t make it any less true.)
Without warning, she leans Blake back from her so she can duck her head, wrapping her lips around a nipple and gently letting her teeth scrape against it. She resumes her previous pace, clearly catching her partner off guard if the shout of her name is any indication, but Blake merely arches into her eagerly. Presenting herself more, letting Yang do as she pleases.
She can see the appeal of teasing, but…
Well, she’s impatient. And she’s too weak to Blake’s pleas.
She much rather give her what she wants for as long as she wants than dangle it just out of her reach over and over again.
(Maybe next time…)
Yang drags her other hand up the expanse of Blake’s back, between her shoulder blades, until she is able to grab a fistful of black hair. Blake tilts her head back against it as Yang nips her way up from her chest, licking along her throat and feeling the way it vibrates with her moans until Yang drags her down for their lips to meet. Blake kisses back just as feverishly, uncoordinated.
She speaks against her mouth, tone broken and breaths quick, “Yang. Yang, I can’t… I’m close. I can’t hold on.”
This close to her, she can count each of her individual lashes, the intricacies of the gold coloration of her iris (what’s visible of it at least, her pupils are blown wide), the tiny darker flecks within the treasure. Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.
“I got you,” Yang vows, an unbreakable oath. “Come for me, Blake, I got you.”
She gives her a softer kiss, having to bite down on the words of I love you, I love you, I love you so much I can hardly comprehend it but I know it to be true, I love you and nothing will change that, I love you and it scares me and it scares you too and instead breathing a nearly voiceless, “Blake,” in replacement to it. Because Blake will understand it anyway. She will hear the secret words buried beneath the five letters of her name.
And that does it for her partner.
Though Yang is expecting it, it still catches her by surprise. Mostly because Blake crashes their lips together in a bruising kiss. Unfortunately muffling herself, but she thinks she can let it slide because her actions are just as loud, if not louder, than her voice might be and Yang finds it infinitely sweeter. Blake’s entire body goes rigid in that first split second as her release hits, as though every part of her has forgotten entirely how to function, until she hastily chases that euphoria with jerking movements of her hips.
Yang helps her through it. As promised. She slows gently, following the ebb and flow of the waves, not wanting to end her pleasure too soon but not wanting to push her toward overstimulation either, until she stops completely. Remaining where she is while Blake catches her breath. She doesn’t kiss back with the same fervor as Blake, returning it in a calmer undertone and letting her partner match her instead.
Blake does. Eventually. Until she parts for air but stays close enough for Yang to feel the puffs of breath fanning against her tingling lips. Her hand and fingers are soaked and she is dying to get a glimpse of it- better yet, a taste- but she ignores her own desires for now while letting Blake come down from that high. It’s a journey down detailed by the way her partner’s feverish kisses become weaker until their lips are barely even skimming against each other. The way she nudges her way closer, brushing their cheeks against each other, her cheek against her temple, closer, closer to her ear and-
“More.”
Yang groans in appreciation at Blake’s shaky rasp, her body’s trembles reaching her voice, but it doesn’t seem to bother her. Blake grinds her hips down, taking her earlobe between her teeth in a nibble, repeating, “More. Please, I want more.”
She swallows thickly. Were she still a nervous wreck from earlier, she might’ve thought this meant she didn’t succeed on satisfying her enough.
But now, Yang is choosing to view it as she did. So much so that Blake wants more of that pleasure.
And who is she to deny her of it?
She smiles against the curve of her shoulder, drawing in her partner’s scent. Lilac and jasmine and sweat and sex, it’s intoxicating. It’s her favorite now.
Yang pulls her fingers free, earning quite the devastated sound from Blake, but she tries to make up for it by pecking the side of her neck. Grabbing hold of the underside of her thigh (fingers still wet) and securing her arm around her back, Yang surges upward until she is able to be on her knees. She turns them around, muscles flexed as she carries Blake so easily, and lays her carefully against the sheets, settling between her legs just like before. She keeps one hand on the pillow beside Blake’s head, keeping herself balanced that way as she peers down at her partner with plenty of space between them.
She wants to see her clearly this time.
“Grab the pillow and don’t let go,” Yang says, neither a request nor a demand. Somewhere in between, something unique to itself.
Either way, Blake doesn’t argue. She lifts her arms above her head to grab onto the pillowcase there, purring softly when Yang kisses her on the nose in something akin to gratitude. With her legs open and on either side of Yang and arms up, she is completely exposed to her and it’s a crime if Yang doesn’t cherish every part of that with her sight.
And what a fucking piece of art she is.
Chest rising and falling with her deep, heady breaths, hair splayed out underneath her, the muscles in her arms accentuated with the way she grabs onto the pillow. The pathway of hickeys here and there and everywhere, her kiss-swollen lips.
She’s definitely an angel.
There’s no other explanation as to how someone can be this beautiful other than divinity.
Yang runs the tips of two fingers, the same fingers that were inside of her, from her sternum down. Lower and lower and lower. Mapping her way through the marks she left behind there, the marks that Blake is letting stay. They can very easily go away with a flash of her aura. But there they are.
She hopes they stay forever.
Blake emits a pleased sigh as Yang- gently, gently, gently- pushes her fingers back in, bending down to kiss her over the heart as she lets her grow used to her again. She learns that she likes this angle a bit better. Mostly because she gets to completely watch Blake like this.
“You said you want more,” Yang hums from the back of her throat, kissing her on the forehead and speaking into her skin. “Do you want another?”
She teases a third finger at her entrance, the next thrust shallow as a result, and she stops afterward. Awaiting her answer, the go-ahead.
“Yes,” Blake whispers, eager and awed.
Yang smiles. “I’ll be gentle.”
“I won’t break.”
“I’ll still be gentle.”
Whatever Blake is going to say is lost as Yang pushes forward again, with the added stretch of a third finger that makes her partner arch off of the bed. She clenches around her and it makes Yang practically vibrate with excitement, gingerly working up a careful rhythm. Slower than before, slower than with just two, but it seems to work just fine because Blake’s body responds only positively. It is the more she wanted and Yang can’t feasibly be happier that she is the reason for this.
She makes music for her and it is her favorite song. Breathless gasps and sharp, wordless moans make up the melody, murmurs of her name- Yang, Yang, Yang- craft the lyrics, the roll of her hips and the pounding pulse of her heartbeat the rhythm. The tones undulate between lows and highs, groans and whines.
It is the sweetest symphony and downright sin.
There is music and there is a dance. For every step Yang makes, every thrust of her fingers, Blake reciprocates with her own, jerking her hips against her. As Yang lowers herself enough to start kissing and sucking and biting at her skin again (soothing said bites with a gentle tongue in supplication), Blake opens herself up more, pressing more against her, asking without being able to speak for more, more, more. Though she keeps her hands on the pillow, per Yang’s request, Blake’s legs wrap around her to pull her closer, closer, please come closer, I need you.
It is someplace between absolute ravishment and complete reverence. Between devour and worship. There is feeling and there is feeling and there is lust and something more terrifying than it.
And with every kiss, with every thrust, with every hickey she passes, Yang repeats over and over again, “Blake. Blake. Blake.”
I love you, I love you, I love you.
And for every one of those, Blake responds equally with, “Yang, Yang, Yang!”
I love you too.
There’s little to no warning this time around when Blake reaches her end. Perhaps it even catches Blake by surprise.
Yang could feel it fast approaching. Her hips began to lose their tempo, disrupting the harmony, and her sounds became higher pitched and rough and desperate. With a final press of her thumb at her clit, a final bite to one side of her breast, a final growl of Blake, she comes undone once more.
It’s as mesmerizing as before and this time, Yang does deliberately try to make it last as long as it possibly can. Keeping her pace the same, carrying her through her orgasm. Pushing her further, further, just a little further now. Until Blake rests a delicate, shaky palm against the top of her head, unable to reach down the rest of the way, and she takes that as her sign to stop.
Yang keeps her fingers where they are, not wanting to pull out without giving her a warning in advance, and she busies herself with placing gentle kisses higher, higher, higher as she makes her way up Blake’s trembling body. Catastrophic as those tremors are. She bumps her head underneath her chin before leaning back to see her face.
Her heart jumps to her throat when she spots a small trail of tears there, glistening in her eyes. Yang frowns, rubbing a thumb across one of her cheeks.
“Are you okay?” She holds her panic back by the leash. Please tell me I didn’t hurt you, please tell me I didn’t-
Blake grins, content and tired, and her anxiety dissipates into thin air. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay, don’t worry.”
“So, happy tears?”
“Very happy tears.”
That makes her soften. She ducks her head down, kissing underneath both eyes, tasting the salt of her tears on her lips. Blake hums soothingly, soaking in the attention.
“I’m going to pull out, okay?” Yang pecks her on the nose too just for the hell of it, enjoying the way it makes her wrinkle it cutely. Blake gives a small nod, lowering her arms and opening and closing her fingers to work out the soreness from them. She bumps their foreheads together lightly while she carefully pulls out, Blake hissing underneath her breath from the loss.
She burrows her face into the side of her neck, her collarbone, wiping her fingers clean on the bedsheets and peppering her with a couple of extra smooches because she can. Blake leaves herself open for it, lazily running her fingers through her hair, simply being in each other’s warm presence now.
Yang brushes her lips against her cheek, uttering, “I’ll be right back.”
Blake lets out a quiet, “Mhm,” of acknowledgment, eyes remaining closed while she savors in the lingering sensations of Yang, Yang, Yang.
Though she much rather cuddle up with her, Yang has other plans. And for those plans, they need their energy.
She crawls backward, cautious not to accidentally put her weight onto Blake, until she reaches the edge of the bed. It takes much more effort than it probably should to tear her gaze away from Blake, but she does and locates their satchels in the corner of the room. Thankfully on the side closest to where they are and not on the other side with her bed, so she doesn’t have to go incredibly far.
Stepping off the bed, her legs shake and nearly give out underneath her and Yang pretends that she doesn’t stumble. While here, she toes their combat gear toward one corner so she doesn’t trample on them, sifting through the satchels quickly to locate their water canteens. She goes to take a sip and it only lasts as a sip for a second before she starts to chug the rest of her water. (Oh well, she can refill it in the morning before they leave.)
Yang snatches her partner’s canteen as well, making her way back to Blake. Shimmying over on her knees, she taps the side of her partner’s hip, unscrewing the cap for her and offering it. “Here.”
Blake blindly extends her hand toward it, making grabby motions, but not even attempting to sit up. It makes her chuckle.
“You can’t drink it laying down, Blake.” Another pat. “Come on, get up.”
Blake groans dramatically but listens, managing to push herself up onto one elbow at the very least so she can reach the canteen. She takes it and sends a smile to Yang, drinking soon after. Yang sits beside her legs, massaging gentle circles into the muscle of her thigh toward her hip. Just for the excuse to touch her and keep touching her.
When her partner finishes, she closes the canteen again and tosses it off to the side of the bed, saving what remains of it for later. Yang finds her way back between her legs, laying down delicately on top of her, plopping her head against her chest and enjoying the thumping of her heart.
There’s a bout of silence between them disturbed only by the soft rumbling purr from Blake and the distant clatter of the people downstairs of the inn and neighboring snores. Her partner traces random patterns on her back.
Or, at least, Yang thinks they’re random at first until she starts to pay close attention to it.
Then she makes out letters.
I. L. O. V. E. Y. O. U.
She beams even when her partner can’t see it, grinning widely against her chest.
“Blake.”
“Hmm?”
Yang snickers softly, merely repeating, “Blake.”
“Oh.” Blake, understanding, pauses from her writing for a second until finally replying with, “Yang.”
She hums, thrilled, and tilts her head back to look at her partner. It takes a second before her partner turns her attention down to her, gold meeting purple. There is a lazy kind of joy written there. Peace. A kind they haven’t had for a very, very long time now.
In this moment of time, the stars are aligned and the world is right and no one is hunting them.
At least until they leave this room, this inn, this outpost, they can pretend that nothing is wrong and everything will be okay. Because they have each other.
“Tired?” Yang asks in a mumble, not entirely knowing which answer she wants to hear. With a yes, it means Blake is satisfied. With a no…
Well, with a no, it just means she has enough energy for what Yang wants to do next.
“A bit,” Blake gives a one-shoulder shrug, feigning indifference, drawing her fingers through blonde hair again in a way that makes Yang sag. “You took a lot out of me.”
That’s certainly a boost to her ego.
Still…
“Not too much I hope.” Yang pushes against her hands until she is leaning over Blake again, her partner resting her palms against her flexed biceps unabashedly. With a modicum of savagery, she flashes her teeth in a grin. “I’m not done with you yet.”
“Oh?” Blake raises a brow, stroking a single finger down the column of her throat. It causes Yang to swallow thickly. “Is that so?”
“I do believe my exact words were; I’ll give you as many as you want until you can’t take anymore. And then I’ll give you one more after that.” Yang slants away so she’s on her knees, grabbing onto Blake by the waist. “So, that’s why I’m asking. Can you take another for me, Blake?”
“I’m not going to have energy for tomorrow, am I?”
“You wanted me,” Yang tilts her head with faux innocence, her smile far from it. “This is what you get.”
“That is far from a complaint, trust me… But what about you? What if I wanted to touch you?”
“That can be arranged too, but,” her thumbs caress her skin with reverence, voice soft, “I want to make tonight about you. I want to-“ love you, let me show you how much I love you “-make you feel good.”
“You already have,” Blake- whether purposefully riling her up or not is hard to tell- brings attention to the hickeys down her body by tracing them with the tip of her fingers. “You’ve made these, see?” Lower, lower, brushing low at her abdomen and dragging Yang’s eyes to between her legs again. “You’ve made me feel so fucking good, Yang.”
“Blake,” she manages to get out, gravelly and ardent. “Please tell me you can take another.”
Blake sits up, bringing their lips closer together but not kissing her. Eyes infinitely nearer, gold and purple. “Do whatever you want, Yang. I can take it.”
Gods, she loves this woman.
She teases a kiss against her lips but down commit to it, nudging their noses together. “You drive me crazy.”
“Feeling’s mutual, darling.”
Darling. It makes her heart flutter and she gives a swift kiss before leaning away, backing up more on the bed until she feels the edge of it underneath her. Yang reaches forward, grabbing Blake by the hips, and not breaking eye contact as she so easily drags her down as well.
It is not lost to her the way Blake flushed red, the near-silent gasp that comes from slightly parted lips. And whether that has to do with her figuring out exactly what Yang is planning to do, or the casual display of strength, Yang likes to bet her money on both.
She smirks, “Do you like how strong I am?”
“Do you want me to state the obvious?” Blake laughs softly, roughly.
Yang hums in contemplation, taking her time glancing around the room, “You know, I could definitely hold you up against the wall. Or the door. Hell, I can probably just hold you with one arm and take you that way.”
“So why aren’t you?” There’s that challenging gleam again and it makes fire spark in her veins, her semblance burning underneath the surface. Ready to accept that challenge. Yang can’t help but snicker.
“Later,” she leaves a chaste kiss on her lips, half-standing, half-kneeling over Blake. “Right now, I have other plans.”
Yang steps off the bed entirely, resting her palms against Blake’s knees and leaning in a way that definitely brings her partner’s attention to her breasts, and with a final breath of preparation, she subtly pushes her legs apart and starts to kneel. Right between her thighs.
“Hold on,” Blake murmurs, reaching toward the top of the bed and grabbing one of the pillows, tossing it to her. Yang catches it with a furrowed brow, looking at her in question. And the wink that Blake sends her makes her blood burn hotter. “I just figured if you planned to be on your knees for a while, I wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself. The floor isn’t very soft.”
Did she mention Blake drives her crazy? Because damn.
She wastes no time plopping the pillow down on the ground beneath her, lowering herself to her knees like a sinner at a shrine. And oh, does she plan to worship. She rubs her palms calmly against Blake’s knees, keeping her open.
Turning her head, she lets her lips ghost the inside of her thigh in a fleeting kiss, the scent of her arousal surrounding Yang and making her head spin pleasantly. And then she turns her head the other way, nipping at the inside of her other thigh in a way that makes Blake squirm. Impatient, impatient, impatient.
Too bad for her. Yang intends to leave a mark on every part of her, and her legs are sorely missing out on them. It’s time to correct that.
So, very much testing Blake’s patience, Yang does just that. Sucking at flesh and skin, running her tongue along the bands of muscle there, enjoying the way they clench and twitch. Hearing Blake’s whines and whimpers, her quiet begs.
“Fuck, you’re so pretty,” Yang mumbles, almost incoherently. Not entirely sure if Blake can hear her. She shifts closer, throwing one of Blake’s legs over her shoulder, kissing her way closer, closer, closer to her center. Her scent, her warmth, it is enthralling.
When she finally makes the decision to turn her head and draw her tongue along where Blake aches for her, it’s basically by accident. Her own impatience has gotten the better of her.
All for the better, really.
Blake says her name on a broken moan, one of her hands going to Yang’s hair while the other keeps a white-knuckled grip on the bed sheets. It’s so fucking beautiful, Yang is dying to hear more of it.
And her taste…
She needs more. So, she gets a secure grip on her thighs and does it again. And again. And again.
Each time feels like not enough and each time, Blake rolls her hips forward, seeking more contact that Yang more than willingly gives to her. Blake guides her with a tug on her hair. Closer, higher, and Yang enthusiastically goes along with it- and when her tongue smooths against that bundle of nerves for the first time, Blake’s hips jerk with a sudden jolt.
“There! There, please, Yang- fuck!”
Yang focuses her efforts on her clit. Drawing lines and circles, and soon enough, she starts to spell out her own name. Blake’s thighs squeeze subtly as though wanting to pull away from the stimulation, always her first reaction, but Yang digs her fingers into the outside of her thighs and keeps her parted.
When she gathers the will to open her eyes and peek up, she discovers that Blake is already looking at her. Face completely shrouded with nothing but ecstasy that makes Yang press her own legs together to try and find some friction for herself. Finding pleasure from her partner’s pleasure.
It’s as Yang starts to suck at her clit, teasing her fingers at Blake’s entrance again, that her partner falls apart. The grip on her hair tightens to a painful degree that only serves to make her moan sharply. The thighs around her head clench and Yang really likes where she’s at. She can stay here forever.
She drags it out for as long as she’s able to, Blake’s hips jerking erratically with her spasms, and Yang keeps up with them until they come to a stop. She pulls away to catch her breath, leaning her head against her thigh but not making any immediate move to rise, licking her lips clean.
Delicious.
Blake’s arm shakes where she keeps herself upright, head tipped back as she struggles for air- and Yang only allows her a few seconds more before she leans in again and gives another long swipe of her tongue. It pulls a groan from her partner as she snaps to attention, ears perked up, and she whimpers softly when Yang lightly starts to circle her fingers against her clit. Gentle, aware of the sensitivity.
“I’m not done with you yet,” Yang rasps, nipping at the muscle of her leg and smiling. “Can you take another for me, Blake?”
She meant what she said.
She will bring Blake to that glorious end over and over and over again until she can’t take it anymore.
And work her through another after that.
All she needs is Blake’s permission. If she wants to stop now, that’s fine with her.
But with the way gold darkens with lust and she releases a breathless little, “Yes,” of consent…
Yang knows she is down for the challenge as well.
She grins and leans back in eagerly.
…
“Yang,” it comes out in a shaky whine, Blake leaning with her back to Yang’s chest, settled between her legs as she holds her from behind. Yang kisses the top of her head between her cat ears, fingers unhurriedly thrusting in and out of Blake while she keeps a metallic palm pressed against the flat of her chest. Sheltering her, keeping her safe.
“One more, Blake,” Yang coaxes gently, “and that’s it. You’re doing so good for me, just one more, baby.”
Blake tilts her head back, reaching up with one hand to guide Yang into a proper kiss while keeping their fingers linked together at her chest. The last one is practically silent, but no less powerful, she shudders in their embrace and clenches tight around her fingers. Yang hums against her lips.
When it passes, Blake is left boneless against her, nuzzling her face into her neck with a cute, pleased hum. Yang breathes out a soft laugh, brushing metallic fingers along her pulse.
“Pulling out, alright?”
“Mhm.”
Try as she might to be gentle, it still makes Blake hiss beneath her breath as she does so. She wraps her up in her arms in silent apology, kissing the back of her shoulder and along the nape of her neck, combing her hair aside. Her partner lays lax against her, resting her head against her chest and snuggling down as though she plans to fall asleep then and there.
Yang clears her throat, murmuring quietly, “I hope… that wasn’t too much?”
Blake snorts, shifting about slightly so she’s half on her side, tilting her head back enough to press her nose to her throat. Taking in her scent with a sigh.
“No. I mean, yeah it was a lot, but,” she can feel her smile against her skin, “I liked it.”
“Yeah?” Yang’s lingering worries wisp away as she continues leaving small kisses here and there. Wherever she can reach.
“If I didn’t, I would’ve said so,” Blake hums, beginning to play with her fingers. Tracing the outline of her knuckles. “I just wasn’t expecting you to be so relentless, I wasn’t prepared for it. It’s impressive.”
Despite herself, despite everything they just did, it makes her blush. A slight boost to her ego, pleased that it seems like Blake takes it as a good thing.
…but just to double-check.
“Was it, umm…“
“I swear on everything if you ask me if it was good or if I liked it, I’m going to hit you.”
“But-“
“Yang,” Blake repositions enough to meet her in the eye, brushing a thumb against a heated cheek. “I can’t even begin to describe how incredible that was. I’m much too tired to think of words right now.”
“Oh.” She blinks in mild surprise before grinning stupidly, “Okay then.”
“I definitely can’t go this intensely every time though. At least not when we’re on the run because I’m exhausted. And next time, it’ll be your turn.”
“N-Next time?” Yang swallows thickly, her hope rising again. “So… you want to- I mean, will you-“
“I don’t have sex with someone just for the sake of having sex, Yang. Not that there’s anything wrong with it, it’s just not my style,” Blake kisses her cheek, and then the other. “You mean so much to me. And… And I might not be able to say it, but I hope you know how important you are to me.”
“I do,” she bumps her head against hers affectionately, squeezing her in a hug. “I felt it.”
“Then you already know my answer to your question.”
“I didn’t even ask yet.”
“You don’t have to. Because you know my answer.”
Will you be mine?
Yes.
Just when Yang thought she couldn’t be happier. Here she is now.
What a night.
“We should probably get cleaned up and get some rest.” Blake gives her a deadpan look, and it immediately makes her snort. “What? What’s that face for?”
“You’re asking me to move after fucking me thoroughly several times, that’s what.”
She gasps dramatically, “Blake! Such vulgar language.”
“I have quite the mouth, didn’t I give you an example already?” Blake tilts her head coyly, “Or did you need another?”
Yang grunts, head thumping against the headboard behind her. “I thought you said you were exhausted.”
“Oh, I am. But there are positions that require the least amount of effort on my part.”
“You’ve really thought about this, huh?”
“Thought about you sitting on my face? Of course. Look at you, how can I not?”
Blake’s probably not joking, but it makes her laugh nonetheless. It happens when she’s overwhelmed with love and joy, emitting from her in the only way she knows how to show it. She nuzzles into the back of her neck, massaging a hand against her abdomen.
“Next time,” Yang mentally prepared herself at the prospect of moving, “right now, we need a bath and sleep.”
They may have forgotten about… everything these past however long they’ve been at it, but the fact of the matter is, come morning, reality will return to slap them in the face. And whether they’re ready or not, they have to keep moving.
“You’re going to have to carry me there, I can barely move.”
“You know, you can use your aura to help.”
“But then all your hard work will go to waste,” Blake runs the tips of her fingers down her body, pinpointing every mark Yang has left behind. “I want to keep them. At least until morning.”
“Fine, I’ll carry you. But I have to get dressed, I’d rather not walk around naked.”
“I’d rather you didn’t either. I don’t want anyone to see what’s mine.”
With a final kiss to the back of her head, Yang carefully rolls them aside so she can have the room to wiggle out from underneath Blake. Her partner slumps against the bed with a groan, curling against the sheets. Yang almost doesn’t want to leave her side. Wants to say fuck it to getting washed up and whatnot.
But if they don’t do it now, she knows they’ll regret it in the morning and they definitely won’t have time to do so then.
Besides, when you’re on the run, showers and baths are a luxury and they paid for their stay here damn it. She wants to take advantage of it while they still can.
“Oh, fuck, shit,” Yang curses as she goes to tear her weight and her knees almost give out. She catches herself against the wall, chuckling at the way her legs shake. Blake may not have touched her as relentlessly (obsessively) as Yang did to her, but the effect she has is lingering.
She briefly wonders about the supposed “next time” and honestly can’t wait for it.
Whenever the hell that’ll be. What with the way their lives are right now.
Shaking those thoughts from her mind before they can ruin her mood, Yang wanders around the room and locates her undergarments, working on getting her overalls on only to the waist. Letting it hang at her hips, not bothering on putting the rest of it on. Slipping on her tube top, she spins around on her heel and can’t help but coo.
“You’re so cute.”
Blake only lets out an unintelligible grunt in response, curled partially into a ball as she is. Perhaps even halfway to the realm of sleep already.
“Am I just supposed to carry you around naked?”
“You might as well wrap me in a blanket. I’m not going to bother getting dressed.”
“Fuck, you’re adorable,” Yang coos, wandering over to her side and bending down enough to leave a kiss on the side of her head. I love you, I love you, I love you. With one hand, she works on pulling the thin top blanket this way and that around her, Blake wrapping her arms around her neck as she hoists her up. “I apologize in advance if I drop you. My arms are tired.”
“Mmm, and here I thought you were strong,” Blake teases, snuggling closer to her with a small curl to her lips. Yang clicks her tongue with feigned disdain, grumbling incoherently as she makes her way to the door. “Here’s hoping no one robs us while we aren’t there.”
“Nah, I think you got them off our backs with your little display earlier.”
“They’re all talk anyway,” Blake shrugs. “They’ll spit and curse and insult my name, but they’re too afraid to provoke me.”
“Beyond me why,” Yang sends her an adoring look, “you’re so sweet.”
“I’m intimidating.”
“Yes, super intimidating in your blanket burrito.”
“If anyone sees us, I’m going to lose all my credibility. So you better hurry.”
“Your reputation is in jeopardy,” Yang manages to get the door unlocked, lowering her voice a bit as she sniggers. “We can’t have that now, can we?”
Blake just snorts in response.
Stepping out into the hallway, she secures her grip on Blake and holds her closer. Instinctively going on the defensive and prepared to defend her partner at the first sign of trouble. Low energy be damned. Passing other doors, there is the sound of some people having conversations and others snoring away. Unbothered by the ruckus still going on downstairs.
She speeds down the hall to what is admittedly a well-put-together wash area. It is divided into four separate rooms, interconnected by a single hallway, and Yang finds one empty at the far corner. The washroom itself is rather small with a tub taking up half the space, a small sink and toilet to one side, and a little dresser that is meant to have piles of towels in there but really only has a handful left since people steal them.
Locking up behind them, Yang carefully sets Blake on her feet and leans her against the door, taking a few seconds to simply hold her there. Kissing along the curve of her exposed shoulder, toward her neck, and squeezing her eyes shut when Blake presses a palm to her jaw to turn her head and properly meet their lips. Soft and sensual. Her hands find a home at Blake’s hips, the blanket falling away to leave her bare, and she shuffles closer to keep her warm when Blake starts to shiver a little.
Even after everything they’ve just done, it still feels like Yang can never get enough of her. One taste, one night, one time is not enough.
And it’s with a warmth in her chest that she realizes she can have this. That she can have Blake.
That they’re actually together now.
“Happy tears, I hope,” Blake murmurs quietly and it’s then Yang comprehends that there are tears on her cheeks. She sniffles, leaning into her partner's touch as Blake wipes them away.
“Extremely happy tears,” Yang reassures, pecking her again and drawing away. “Let me get the water ready for you.”
“For us, you mean.”
“Blake, this tub is tiny. I feel like it’ll break if we try to fit together.”
“I want you with me. Please?”
“It’s not fair,” Yang bemoans as she wanders over to turn on the faucet.
“What?”
“I can’t say no to you,” she chuckles and undresses easily, nudging her clothes aside so it doesn’t get wet when they inevitably spill water. “You got me completely hooked.”
Yang’s nerves go abuzz when arms wrap around her from behind, goosebumps rising to her skin instantly. Blake stands on her tiptoes, chest pressed to her neck and chin resting on her shoulder lightly. Their hearts beat as one and Yang has never felt safer than here.
“I assure you,” Blake’s lips brush against her skin in a vague kiss, chaste. “You’re definitely not alone in that.”
Yang turns her head slightly to glance at her out of the corner of her eye, expression going achingly fond. I love you, I love you, I- “Blake.”
Her partner purrs and she can feel the rumble from her chest, and Yang gasps softly when one of Blake’s hands begins to move. Roaming away from her abdomen, up her body to her arm, and toward the-
Oh.
Fingers calloused from wielding a blade for most of her life brush against the part of her arm where prosthetic and flesh meet, the inkling of scars there. There is a silent request there, a question, asking for permission.
“Yang,” Blake whispers, breath fanning against the back of her neck. I love you.
I trust you.
Yang emits an uneven breath… but consciously drops that connection she has with the prosthetic. A faint crackle of her aura releasing it. Blake makes sure it doesn’t fall to the ground, drifting apart from her to place the arm on top of Yang’s clothes, safe and sound, while Yang shuts off the water when it reaches a decent point.
Now, she truly feels naked. Vulnerable. Exposed.
But she is not afraid.
Because there’s only Blake here. And while that’s frightening in itself…
Yang trusts her.
She decides to get in first since it’ll probably be easier than having to squeeze in behind Blake and she holds her hand out to her partner for her to balance with. There is a brief wince to Blake’s features as she has to lift her leg over the rim of the tub, but Yang tries not to worry about it. The two of them adjust until they are in the same position as earlier; with Blake between Yang’s legs and her back to her chest, Yang wrapping her arm around her to pull her snug. (They absolutely spill some water.)
“One day,” Yang announces, “I’ll take you to a proper hot spring.”
“I’ll hold you to that.”
“We still need to find a good vacation spot.”
“Oh, so the wilds of Mistral don’t tickle your fancy anymore?”
“I want to be literally anywhere else but Mistral.”
Blake hums in understanding. In agreement. And she continues before things can turn sour; “Well, Menagerie has some nice places I told you about. I think there might actually be a hot spring too.”
“It’s settled then.”
Perhaps it’s silly of them to be talking about an idealistic future.
Realistically speaking, they might not even be able to stay long in Menagerie either before their hunters catch their trail.
(Pessimistically speaking, they might not even get to Menagerie and Yang tries really hard not to give it a second of thought. Considering she’s riding a high at the moment, shrouded in love, it’s rather simple to do.)
But it’s nice. To picture a time where they can finally have their peace and just be together without a threat to their lives or a threat to the world.
Maybe it’ll never come true, maybe it’s a fool’s dream.
But Yang also believed she’d never get to have a night like this with Blake- and yet, here they are.
So maybe, she just has to have hope.
…
As warm and soothing as being in the bath together is, they are also really tired and Yang knows they’re definitely going to suffer for it in the morning.
So, because Blake apparently gets in a cuddly and lazy mood after sex and doesn’t want to move, she has to be the responsible one and get them to wash in record time. Yang dons her gear again (because she literally doesn’t have anything else to wear) and swaddles Blake back up in the blanket and carries her back through the hall and to their room.
And she gets about halfway or so when she passes by the staircase and spots Ruby out of the corner of her eye there. Because of course she will run into her sister right now of all times. That’s just her luck.
Kill me now.
Ruby comes to a halt instantly, apparently having gone to refill the canteens for her and Weiss, blinking at her and then peeking down at Blake (already dozing) in her arms and then back up to her face. Yang can do nothing but purse her lips and stare, knowing for sure that she is 100% blushing. The two of them remain silent. Ruby goes red too.
And it might be a trick of the low light of the inn’s shitty electricity in the hall, but she swears that if she squints, she can perceive a blemish on Ruby’s throat. Where her choker would usually cover but is strangely missing at the moment.
How suspicious.
“Uhh,” Ruby grins, awkward and nervous, “goodnight!”
And with a burst of petals, she speeds around Yang and down the hall to where her room is with Weiss. Not even giving her the chance to say it back. Yang only watched her go, not entirely knowing how to process it. Deciding to deal with it in the morning.
“Goodnight,” she mutters to the empty hall with a faint laugh, continuing the rest of the way in the opposite direction. (Apparently, the only rooms left were those two on two different sides.)
Yang kicks the door shut behind her as she enters, taking a second to lean against it. Her head thumps against the wood as she wills her blush to go away.
In her arms, she feels Blake’s shoulders bouncing, and within seconds, her partner starts to laugh. Clearly having pretended to be asleep throughout that whole ordeal.
Her blush returns full force, “That was not funny.”
“It was kind of funny,” Blake giggles.
“You could’ve helped me out!”
“And get the shovel talk?” She boops Yang on the nose, making her go cross-eyed for a beat. “No thank you. That can wait until morning. Right now, I only want to go to sleep, so if you would be so kind.”
Blake points toward the bed.
“You’re lucky you’re cute,” Yang grunts but listens, carefully setting Blake down before heading back to the door to wedge the chair underneath the knob again. Just in case, just in case. She can’t be too careful. She stretches her arms above her head with a yawn, drained but tranquil, and spins back to her partner and stops in her tracks yet again at seeing Blake sprawled out on the bed like that.
Damn.
She’s the luckiest girl in the world.
“Are you going to keep staring,” Blake remarks after a moment, “or are you going to join me and keep me warm?”
Yang grins widely, “I can’t ogle at my girlfriend?”
Girlfriend.
She almost squeals.
“Why ogle when you can cuddle with her, naked, while in bed together?”
“You make a valid argument,” Yang puts a hand to her chin, feigning deep thought and contemplation, as though weighing the options, and snaps her fingers. “You’ve won me over.”
Blake rolls her eyes fondly, “You’re such a dork.”
“A sexy dork.”
“But a dork nonetheless.”
Yang strips out of her clothes again, leaving them scattered on the floor as she makes her way to the bed, and crawls on over until she can curl up behind her partner. She tosses the thinner blanket over the two of them, scooting closer and kissing the nape of her partner’s neck delicately. Their legs intertwine carefully and though it’s their first time doing this, it’s as if they know exactly how to fit next to each other. With each other.
She kisses the back of her head and Blake sleepily reciprocates it by bringing her wrist up and kissing at her pulse.
Everything changes after this.
“Blake, I…” Yang trails off, forces herself to stop. She’s certain that if she was given permission, she would’ve said I love you countless times already. But she can’t, so all she settles for is holding her partner closer, pouring every ounce of emotion into her whisper, “Blake.”
It’s shaky. And nervous.
But it's true.
I love you.
And it takes only a moment until Blake responds. Equally as shaky, equally as nervous.
Equally as true.
“Yang.”
I love you too.
Neither of them knows what tomorrow will bring. Their future is fraught with turmoil and nothing is guaranteed.
But Yang knows that they are closer than ever. And they will get through this as they have gotten through every fucking thing in this miserable, danger-filled world of theirs.
Together.
And that’s enough for her.