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Maybe it is just the winds howling beside her ears, even through the layer of helmet on her head, good lady Swire thinks, and she is more often right than wrong. The Lungmen winds always resemble the maafaan Lung’s voice who is sitting in front of her more than she herself would admit, and sometimes it goes the other way around too, with Ch’en’s voice reminding her during various business trips about where she actually belongs. Warm, familiar and reassuring even when it acts infuriating, Swire will never let herself accept the fact that she can listen to it for hours and hours, be it nagging or arguing words.
“What are you saying, lan yeung lung??” She yells to the front, pressing herself close against Ch’en’s back, inching her chin onto her shoulder just to make sure her voice gets through that helmet loud and clear, and that Ch’en will not be able to ignore her. Waa, this cau lung actually took a bath before meeting with her today, it seems. Her hair smells of sandalwood and lavender - she does use the shampoo Swire gifted her, even if she grumbled a lot about it.
Swire hears a loud “tch” even through the winds, and, “Nei mou lei tau gau, so fu! Be patient!!”
“I have been patient for the past hour, cat tau! A patient lady I am, but a sore butt can tick off just anyone and not just me!”
The motorbike under them groans, and suddenly, it screeches into a halt, jamming Swire to slam her face right onto the shoulder she is resting her chin on.
“Why you little—”
“So fu princess, we have arrived.” And Swire can hear a snort following right after the end of that sentence. The audacity.
She shoves Ch’en’s head forward, “What was that braking stunt for, huh?”
The footpeg is kicked down to land onto the ground as Ch’en hisses, muttering more curses under her breath, and because she is still responsible for the safety of both of them, Ch’en turns off the engine, leaving the plan to crash themselves together for another day. That day will be very far away, because they are cops and cops should die a better death than a vehicular accident out of all things. Swire continues on hitting her back even after taking her helmet off, going as far as hooking the strap of said helmet right onto Ch’en’s horn. Ch’en has only barely managed to take her own helmet off before that.
In a fit, Ch’en twists her arms back, and in essence, hugging and keeping Swire plastered on her back like how a gray phascolarctidae beast would cling to its mother. The tiger princess wants to say something, but stays silent when Ch’en gets off the bike with pretty much carrying Swire on her back.
Ch’en’s little enjoyment of peace and quiet does not last long, though. It dies a short death when Swire decides to reach down to her front and tickle her by poking and running and squeezing every patch of skin she can find after shoving her hands inside her jacket. Her antics work, because Ch’en jolts up like a spooked burdenbeast and falls face first onto the dry heaps of hay in front of them, letting go of Swire in the process. The tiger princess rolls to the side, spending only half a second there before reaching over again and pulling Ch’en’s dragon beard.
“And what the hell is this for??”
Swire huffs, and their position flips as Ch’en fights back, “You think I would let you slide, you slippery gau?”
“Puk gaai, I didn’t do anything—!”
“Oh yeah?” Ch’en wheezes, because Swire is pinching her waist, and the princess’ finger strength is no joke even when she is having half her mind on arguing with Ch’en. “What was that brake for then? Who started this??”
“Well I—Stop pinching me!” Her head lifts up, out of the range of Swire’s grabby hands, and she gets punished with Swire changing target to her cheeks. “I just wanted to take you out.”
Swire cocks an eyebrow up. “Take me out? As in ‘take me out for a date’, or literally taking me out?”
“For a talk. I wanted to take you out so that we could talk.” Ch’en knows better than to piss her very much threatening lady here. No one knows how far Swire can go to vent her anger. Maybe she might just die here in the middle of somewhere insignificant on the map. Thus, she surrenders herself to the smushing of her face.
“That still doesn’t help your case, Ch’en Hui-chieh. Your lingo skills are much better than this, and I have read your reports from when you were still in your Royal Victorian Guard School. Be nice.”
When have I ever not been nice… Ch’en grumbles to herself.
That proves to be a mistake. Swire sees it, and hooks her thumb right into Ch’en’s mouth. Drags her face to the side and digs her nail into the inside of her cheek, until she yowls.
“Ah gan, diu!! That hurts!!!”
Swire relents at the sharp raise of her voice, pulling her hand back and rubbing Ch’en’s face. “Ugh, when I say be nice, I expect you to be honest, you ngong gau lung.”
“And I say nei mou lei tau. What did I do to deserve this?”
When Swire replies to her question, her tone is final, and Ch’en can hear it. “Hui-chieh. Ch’en Hui-chieh.”
“…” Ch’en stops in her place, and gazes at Swire’s face properly, awkwardly. She keeps the eye contact, because Swire is not messing around. “What?”
“…” Swire says nothing more, just staring at her.
And Ch’en is silent in return. “…”
Who knew keeping eye contact could be so hard?
… Eventually though, Swire nods, smug and proud of herself. "Lou Ch’en, now you are finally looking at me.”
A smile breaks out on her face right after. It makes heat rush to Ch’en’s face too, and they are matching with that slight flush of silent, giddy affection. Neither of them will ever acknowledge it is what it is, not to each other. That is just what it’s like when you put two exceptional individuals together, and since they are exceptional, their pride is of a suitable size matching their respective capabilities. It is hard to even admit to themselves about their truthful feelings, not to mention to each other. One of them will have to accommodate their own awkwardness according to the situation.
Ch’en is usually the one to break away first (always, to be exact, from all the evidence pointing at her), but the mighty tiger princess holds her face firmly.
It seems Ch’en does indeed hold the ability to learn from her mistakes, because this time, Swire does not need to tut and start counting down from three like a classic trick from a mother to her unruly child before she speaks up, “… I wanted to take you out for a date.” The burgeoning laugh from Swire dies down as Ch’en adds, a bit too hastily, “And some private chat.”
Oh well, she tried. Swire is nothing but fair to the good Lung girl who behaves. Of course, she does still roll her eyes at her. “Now we are talking. Congrats on your baby steps, lou Ch’en.”
“Ugh. You are insufferable.”
Swire scoffs, “Aren’t you the same? Wongbaat tai luk dau, Ch’en.”
The moment she hears that sentence, Ch’en makes a face that can only be described as “utterly offended”.
Swire, on the other hand, absolutely enjoys the flabbergasted look that overshadows it right after.
“Swire.”
Only an acknowledging hum to respond to her words.
“Swire, we’re in the middle of nowhere.”
”And?”
”Are we seriously doing this?” Ooh, Swire likes the fact that Ch’en does not leave her out by using we out of all things. She gets a bonus point for that.
“Yeah, yeah.” The clacks of the Lung girl’s belt are still ongoing as Swire undoes it. “Not like it makes a difference.”
If she makes a hypothetical squint at this whole situation, it’s not too bad. Ch’en can feel the warm winds cradling around them both, and the smell of sun-dry hay is not losing against the fabric-softener of the sheets and pillows on Rhodes Island. Doing this while the day is still bright, and outside, though, still ticks that soft borderline inside her head off.
But more importantly, Ch’en feels like she should ask for clarification. “What do you mean ‘not like it makes a difference’? There are differences. Many, actually.”
“Look, Ch’en, it doesn’t make a difference when you never have a condom in your bag and I’m the one who carries them in mine.”
(So much for getting back at Swire for walking off with her bag, leaving her with nothing but a couple tubes of lipstick and a bottle of foundation to execute an arrest with. Now she’s getting nagged for not preparing things for their occasional adventures.)
A breath gets stuck in Ch’en throat, because the tiger princess is palming her crotch while dragging her pants down to her knee, but she manages, “Unlike you, I don’t do handbags.”
“Well, this thing is almost four dimensional for how it keeps all my makeup tools and my finance stuff. And it looks great!”
“Do you seriously not keep anything else inside that stupid bag of yours?”
Oh, now she is just asking for it. Swire bites at the belt of her underwear, teeth grazing close and personal to that smooth skin on her belly. To feel Ch’en’s abs tensing up suffices as well-deserved justice for her dear bag’s emotional damage. For now.
“Puk gaai lung, this bag is one point three million LMDs. It is not stupid, mind you.”
Ch’en bucks her hips, despite not wanting to do it at all, “Diu. Didn’t you say it was nine hundred thousand LMDs the last time?”
“A girl can’t have too many handbags, you unromantic, gikbaai lung. This is a different one.”
“My point still stands, so fu—” That was embarrassing, she almost bit her tongue because, curses, Swire just wolfed down half of her length. For a tiger princess, she sure does not act princess-y at all, but more like a wild tiger.
“Pah.” And Swire is a smug tiger. Only she can shut this stubborn Lung up effectively. “My point stands. This bag can hold a lot of things, including the condoms which you never remember to bring.”
Although she is grumbling something very grumpy, Ch’en still pulls Swire up and helps her wipe her mouth. The kiss comes easily after, and Swire smiles into Ch’en’s mouth when she hears the whine that escapes. There’s nothing wrong, she has just slipped the rubber onto little Ch’en, that is all.
“… Remember… when Lin tried stopping us from throwing hands when we were at Siesta?”
Swire’s voice is strained as she pulls away.
A good, wet smack mutedly sounds out amidst the friction of winds blowing on hay.
“Yeah, and what about it?” Ch’en is having half her mind on opening up her tiger princess right now, and her focus is good. It is hard to distract her when her mind is set on doing something, and even more so when that something, as in the slick mess in between Swire’s thighs, has her interest.
“Hoshiguma stopped her not too long after. Do you recall what that, ah, that big Oni said?”
Ch’en makes a non-committal noise. More wetness and warm fluids pool out in her palm. The sight of those reddened, glistening folds makes her zero in on Swire and Swire alone. It is so tempting to just finger Swire like this, until the tiger princess comes undone, her boner be damned.
“She said… argument is our foreplay.” Swire laughs, and Ch’en stomach twists and does a backflip at the little hitches in her breaths. “Quite accurate. Right now, I still feel like punching you, lou Ch’en.”
Beatrix Schwire is an extremely attractive woman, and even if it takes up a whole lot of effort just to allow Ch’en to admit to herself that fact, she is willing to say it when the occasions come, nonetheless. The tiger princess is looking extra gorgeous right now, when she is straddling Ch’en’s torso, holding her cock in her hand while unabashedly, trying to lower herself onto it.
Ch’en reaches out without a second thought, just to grab her hips, steadying her trembling muscles. “Careful.”
In response, Swire chuckles, breathless and pretty and confident. “Don’t go soft on me, Ch’en Hui-chieh. I didn’t become a dragon rider for you to disappoint me right now—Ah!”
A bit ashamed to admit, but Ch’en was riled up by that sentence more than she herself would like to be. Maybe she can’t just ignore her throbbing erection at will. Her hands slipped, and so did her length. The whole thing is almost fully sheathed inside her pretty princess.
“You lan yeung lung…! What was that for?” The end of those words does not go as inquisitive as Swire may think. It sounds wrecked, angry with unshed tears and adorable with its pouty edge. Ch’en feels dizzy from all the blood rushing somewhere else - even her flushed face feels less hot from this.
“Sorry…”
“Hnrgh.” Swire lifts her waist, feeling the stiff rod inside her brush onto the spot she likes the most. Stars dance around in her vision. Tears are pricking the corners of her eyes. “Why do you have to be this big, cau lung…”
Ch’en gets up. Or at least, tries to, because Swire has pressed her down again. So she opts for softening her voice instead, running one hand underneath Swire’s shirt, distracting her from the evident discomfort of swallowing more than she can accommodate.
“Bea, relax. You are too tense.”
They settle into a comfortable rhythm afterwards. There may be some hiccups here and there, and possibly some awkward moments too, when Ch’en had attempted to roll Swire’s nipple in between her fingers without warning, which resulted in Swire collapsing over and knocking her head on her chin. But certainly nothing a curse and some quick work of inner flesh can’t fix.
…
“Ack, Bea, I’m gonna…!”
Swire leans down. Ch’en feels her moans against the skin on her neck, and then those tiger fangs sink in. The wet muscles around her cock tighten to an almost alarming degree, determined to milk her orgasm out.
“Come for me, Hui-chieh.”
Right after Swire finishes those words, in the most evil, sensual tone ever, Ch’en spills. Her grip on Swire’s waist turns bruising, unforgiving while she presses herself in deeper without care, and that gives Swire the much needed push to tip over the edge. Hot heat swarms and spills around her cock, the surrounding warmth squeezing even more tightly than before. Her joints are so taut she can feel them creak in her flesh, yet soon, like a miracle, Ch’en lets go. The tension escapes mercifully, and Swire, despite being fucked half out of her mind at that moment, laughs. She knows she is the only one who can teach this stubborn Lung how to forget about the world when she should and need to.
“So, what did you want to talk about?”
Swire asks, lying right there beside Ch’en, using the Lung’s arm as a pillow even after said Lung grumbled about how it would go numb later.
“I,” Ch’en stops a bit here, definitely not because she almost forgot about what she initially planned to discuss with Swire after all that mind-blowing sex. “Nothing much, really. After the thing with Hoshiguma and her trip back to Higashi, things were not the neatest that they could have been. I wanted to make sure you are not overworked.”
“That is so rich coming from you out of all people, Hui-chieh.”
Ch’en scoffs, “I still rest when I need to.”
“Sure, when you need to only, not when you want to.” Swire turns over, and squeezes her cheek.
“Hey!”
A short minute passes. Beatrix Schwire can hear the steady, lulling heartbeat of her Ah Ch’en right beside her ear.
“Anyway, Hui-chieh.”
“What?”
“Hui-chieh.”
“… What, Bea?”
“That’s all, right?”
Ch’en’s chin gently nudges down atop her head. Swire takes it as a yes.
“If that’s all, then I am glad. Do take me out for dinner today.”
Ch’en nods and hums. Welcoming the choice of peace and quiet, Swire press more kisses on her neck, right beside her teeth marks.
For today’s date, Beatrix Schwire is content with Ch’en Hui-chieh’s performance.