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feeling more human (and hooked on her flesh)

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The curtain swishes as it returns to its original position and Blake whirls to glare at her. “Get up.” Yang stands, brushes off her knees. She doesn’t get to say anything before Blake digs her claws in and starts tearing into her. “I thought I told you to stay the hell out of Faunus territory, Yang.” The girl in question looks at her through shaggy bangs, lifts one shoulder in a lazy little shrug, moving mountains made into molehills. “Guess I just couldn’t stay away.”

Blake’s palms slam down on the table in between them, snarling. Yang doesn’t so much as blink. “I’m trying to keep you fucking safe.”

Yang shrugs again. “I don’t care about being safe, not if it gets in the way. Maybe I don’t want to be safe.” Blake snorts. “Always chasing a thrill, huh?”

“Hm, I don’t think so. Not always, not this time. I guess I’m chasing something else this go ‘round.”

“What were you chasing that was worth that then?” She asks, looking the girl up and down with a purpose. A black tank that didn’t quite reach her waistband showed off the hard lines of powerful arms and defined abdominals, but did no favors to hide the beginnings of bruising going up both. A cut across her cheek, its bleeding had slowed but it had dripped a ways down. Thick blonde hair usually pulled back into a low-slung ponytail was free of its usual bond, looking wild. Full lips sporting a split on one side. Another bruise forming across her collarbone. Blake remembers sinking her teeth into that collarbone. She was a damn mess.

Yang looks Blake in the face, shameless. “I was chasing you.”

Blake’s ears lower and she gets up, walking around to stand in front of her. Yang’s got almost half a foot on her own 5’6” frame now but Blake feels anything but small. Yang herself looks the girl up and down similarly to the opposite earlier, except Yang’s appreciative, of the way leather pants hug Blake’s hips, of the way hair like pitch contrasts against porcelain skin, of how the open hoodie and jean vest frame her bust, of how the two rings in one side of her lip reflect in the light, of the way a crop top exposes her stomach. “God, you’re stupid.” She wasn’t and Blake knew it. “What if they would have killed you?”

“They didn’t.”

“They still could change their mind.”

Yang’s confident when she speaks. “They won’t.”

Her eyes narrow at that. “And what makes you so sure?” Yang tilts her head side to side, pretending to think about it. “If they wanted to do that they would have done it earlier, wouldn’t they?” Blake shoves her then, and she stumbles backwards. Yang’s back thumps against the wall behind her. “You’re so fucking stupid,” she hisses, fisting the blonde’s collar. “ A knife in your ribs and you would have been gone. Because you decided you wanted to see me. They could have fucking killed you.”

Yang leans forward. “Do you know how they took me?” Blake pushes against Yang’s chest, the impact much softer this time as Yang lets it happen. “They beat the shit out of you and dragged you here.” She smiles and shakes her head. “Then how?” Yang, much stronger than the other girl and having the element of surpise on her side, suddenly pushes off the wall and grabs Blake’s wrists, flipping their positions and pinning the brunette’s hands next to her head.

“I let them.” Yang leans in and noses at the corner of Blake’s jaw. She lets her, turning her head to give her more room. “Look at my hands Blakey,” she says quietly. “Most of that isn’t mine.” Amber eyes pan over to look. She sees scars, she sees old, fading ink. She sees blood.

“Most of it’s yours.” As in, her faction’s. Yang never wants Blake’s blood on her hands again. “I’m offended. Three stupid assholes with knives. You think that that’s a threat to me? Really?” Her fingers tighten on Blake’s wrists, just this side of pain. “Was I not keeping up with you just a couple weeks ago? I can handle myself.”

Blake plants a knee in her stomach. Yang grunts, the momentum of the strike makes her lean back a bit and Blake tries to take advantage but Yang doesn’t let her go and quickly steps back into her space, forcing her back to the wall with her hips. “Ah, ah, ah. What’d I just tell you? I can handle myself.” The other girl leans closer, bumps Yang’s forehead with her own. “I know,” she says softly, “and you’re damn good at it.” The blonde lets her go and takes a step back, eyes flicking to the doorway as the wind flutters the curtain. “I wasn’t trying to say you weren’t.” Now that she has the space to do as much, Blake drops to the floor, sweeps Yang’s feet from under her. Yang twists her body as she falls to catch herself on her hands.

When she rolls over, prepared to stop the brunette from diving on her back and wrenching her arms behind her, it’s to be stopped by the edge of Blake’s boot knife pressed against her throat.

“But you’re still fucking stupid.”

“Blake come on-”

Blake straddles her. “Shut up. We agreed neither of us could do a relationship but you still show up here. Why?” Yang’s hands had made it onto Blake’s waist, thumbs stroking like they belonged there, like they’d done this a thousand times. Maybe they had. “I missed you.”

“Or do you miss fucking me?”

Yang blinks up at her. “Do you really expect me to believe that you don’t?”

A muscle in her jaw flexes. “If I say I don’t will you leave and never come back?”

“No.”

Blake snarls again, cuspid bared like tiny weapon, leaning in until she and Yang are breathing each other's air. “Why. Not.” It’s a question but it doesn’t sound like one. Yang hums. “Because it would be a lie.” Blake scoffs. “How do you know?” There’s a gleam in the blonde’s eye. Yang doesn’t answer the way Blake wants her to. Technically she doesn’t answer at all, asking a question of her own. “Why are you on top of me?” The brunette’s eyes narrow, wondering what game she’s playing. “Does it matter?” Yang smiles. “I guess not.” Her hands drop to the tops of Blake’s thighs, rub back and forth. “It’ll end the same.” She ignores that. “You never answered the question Yang.” Her tongue peaks out to swipe across not quite ruined lips and Blake unconsciously glances down to track the movement. “I think I’ll say I missed both.” Them and sex were constant. If they were together, they couldn’t their hands off each other, it was just how it went. Neither would say it was lucky or unfortunate that they’d always end up around each other somehow. Didn’t matter if either had any business being where they were when they managed to find the other.

“I wish I thought you were lying.” She really wishes she did. “But you know I’m not.” Yang whispers.

“And that’s the problem. I still can’t be with you but for some odd reason hurting you is at the bottom of things I want to do right now, even if it would get you away. If you asked me I’d have to say yes and but I know you. I know you wouldn’t ever ask because you know me. And I can’t let you do that, I can’t. You can’t hide it from me, I’d know you were hurting and I can’t live with myself with that.” Even though I hurt you when I stopped coming back.

“I wasn’t asking for that Blake. Fuck. Friends care about each other and don’t like when the other is hurting. That’s how that works.” The other girl’s blade drifts away and she sits back, Yang mourning the loss. She holds it with her fingers as her thumb sticks out, comes up to wipe some of the blood off. “We were never friends Yang.”

She shakes her head. “No. I think we were much more than that.”

Blake shifts, Yang stops her passes back and forth and just holds on, briefly thinks about when Blake used to shift in her lap under a slightly different context but is brought back to the present when she speaks. “We were never exclusive. We were not together.” Attempts were made by both of them. Blake remembers waking up next to Sun after a party he threw, after a fight with Yang. She had a panic attack, she assumed. She couldn’t breathe, her chest throbbed, she started sweating. He couldn’t calm her down, was slipping his sweats on as he ran out. Sent Yang inside. She had held her then, rocked her back and forth murmuring something Blake could never remember into her ear, let Blake mouth at her neck, lifted her arms to make it easier when she started tugging her shirt up, met her in the middle when Blake stretched up kiss her, took both of her hands hostage in one of hers when they started trembling, ignored the tears that fell when she came around her fingers. Blake remembers maybe a week later watching from someone’s kitchen as a dark skinned girl who’s had a crush on Yang for a week grabbed Yang by her jacket and pulled her close, whispered something in her ear and dragged upstairs giggling. Blake had just taken another sip of her drink and blamed the burn in her stomach on that. Only a couple minutes later the girl had come back down, short bleached blonde hair slightly disheveled. Yang appeared on the stairs a second later, searching the crowd near frantically, a wild look in her eye. She’d found Blake quickly and they’d just stared for a few seconds that felt like millenia before someone had walked in between them. Yang had blinked and tilted her chin back up the way she came. Blake had gulped down the rest of her cup and set it on the island in front of her. She’d waited for Yang to disappear back up and then taken the stairs two at a time. The door had slammed when she closed it but she didn’t care about seeming eager, it only took as long as for her to lock it before Yang pinned her to it. She’d tasted like cheap lipgloss. Yang never wore lipgloss. Blake didn’t care, she’d told herself as she’d left scratches down her back, as she’d sucked an angry mark into the skin of her throat, knowing Yang didn’t have anything to cover it with.

Blake had ended up lending her a purple bandana she’d had tied to her belt when she’d pulled her pants back up. Yang only covered the hickey before she went to work, letting it show after. When it had faded, she’d never gave it back, she’d started wearing it near everyday.

“We weren’t,” Yang starts. No, they weren’t exclusive. Things with other people just stopped happening. She had a girlfriend already, he wasn’t a good kisser, he smells, she’s too rough, they would say. They’d ignore the fact that the girlfriend didn’t mind, even encouraged it. They’d ignore knowing that if they were both drunk kisses were artless and sloppy. They’d ignore the times Blake would walk Yang home from the gym or from the site, would be on her as soon as they got through the door, sweaty musk and all. They ignore the times Yang had sighed under Blake when she drew blood with her nails and left indents with her teeth. “But, I never said it was that. That’s not what it was.” It couldn’t be. “But it’s what we were.” Blake tries to ignore the twinge when she hears were. She’s supposed to want them to be were. Yang wasn’t supposed to be here.

“You’re not supposed to be here. I left, you weren’t supposed to follow me, Yang. I was supposed to be fucking done with you.”

“Well I am, I did, and I guess you’re fucking not.” Blake makes a noise of frustration, raises her clip-point and brings it down, it sticks. Yang doesn’t flinch, flicks her eyes over to where it’s embedded into the floor next to her head. “You can ruin your knives like that.” She offers helpfully, helpfully being completely unhelpful. “I know. What I don’t know is what the hell I’m gonna do with you.” She shrugs once more, the motion easy. “I’ve got a couple ideas.” Blake huffs. “This is serious. I’m trying to get rid of you, I have to.” Yang smirks. “So was I. You can’t.”

“What if I told you I hate you and never wanted to see you again?”

Yang plays with the edge of her jacket. “I’d say you probably do sometimes and no you don’t and I wouldn’t move an inch. I’m not leaving until I get what I wanted.”

“Which was?”

“Answers and a promise you’d come back.” Blake shakes her head before Yang finishes the whole statement. “I can’t give you either and you still need to go. I’m not in charge tomorrow, the guy who is will probably order you killed, he’ll be here by tonight.”

“Then I want to feed an old bad habit-”

“Which one?”

“A certain itch hasn’t been scratched since you left.” Blake doesn’t have to think about what that means or her answer to it, but she at least pretends to, for just a second. “Alright. Consider it done, but you’re gone afterwards.”

She’s already leaning down, eyeing beaten peach lips. When Yang speaks she can feel her breath against her mouth, only centimeters separating them. “And I’ll come back to ask again day after tomorrow.” Blake’s hand comes up to brush Yang’s hair away from her face. “Place isn’t mine again until Sunday.” Blake elects not to think about the fact if she wants Yang to stay away she should keep this information to herself. “Shit, I’m working Sunday.” Blake’s hand trails down her cheek and grabs her chin. “I’m still in charge until Monday afternoon.” Yang gives a minute nod. “Then I’ll be here at midnight looking for the same thing. And I’ll keep coming back until I get it.” Blake smiles. “Fine.” She leans down and distance dies, contact is born, a perfect balance.

Blake kisses her like pointing a gun at her head and telling her to run in a back alley, like placing her hand over hers when she starts getting dressed and asking her to stay.

Yang kisses her back like having her tossed over a table with her hand around her throat and smiling, like walking in the rain to the hospital with her in her arms and not caring if anyone heard her sobbing.

Blake tilts Yang’s head upward to deepen it, licks across the blonde’s bottom lip, doesn’t shy away from the raised ridge where the minor wound is trying to close, even though she can taste the drying blood. Yang opens up for her easily, tongue meeting Blake’s in the middle before she gets too eager and takes control of the kiss, even from under the brunette. Her hands migrate from the other girl thighs to her ass, taking large handfuls and squeezing as her tongue sweeps through her mouth, stud in the center clicking gently against her teeth. Blake pulls back to get her hair out of her face with a flick of her head and dives right back in. In that small moment the planets had shifted, something had changed and the kiss was more intense, more hungry. Yang softly hums into her mouth and Blake can’t tell who’s heart she could hear speed up as Yang gets her hands back on her hips and guides her into a slow grind. She retreats back the barest amount to catch her breath, moans as Yang sucks the rings at the corner of her mouth, swallows another at the way the other girl growls and attaches herself to her neck, grip on her hips getting so tight Blake knows bruises are a real possibility. “Wait. Down girl. Yang, no marks.”

“Mhm.” Bites and sucks morph into smaller kisses and licks, but she’s still holding on like Blake might vanish. Blake reaches back and taps her wrist, and Yang luckily adjusts accordingly. The blonde’s pecks change direction and lonely lips have a friend again. Blake nips at her on instinct alone, not that she would have honestly not did it if she were actually thinking. The other girl reflexively flexes her fingers again as Blake ducks her head. “Hands.” She says right up against the skin of Yang’s throat where her knife had been. “Sorry.” She says, anything but apologetic, Blake’s cat ear flicking as the word disturbs it. She corrects herself nonetheless, leaning forward the centimeter it takes to catch the tip of the fur-covered appendage between her teeth on a whim, and she relishes the shudder it gets her. Blake surges back up and finds Yang’s ear, she bites down, tugs, soothes it with a lick. Yang squeezes again. “Fuck, Blake.” She pecks her cheek teasingly and snickers. “Hands. Haven’t even touched you yet.” Yang turns her head, stares her down. “Are you saying that if I put my hand in those tight little pants of yours you wouldn’t be a bit wet?” Blake leans down, nips at her jaw. “No-”

“You’re a fuckin’ liar.”

No. I’m soaked.”

Fuck, Blake.” There was that bruising grip again. “For fucks sake- Do you still keep your dad’s handcuffs in your jacket?” Yang blows her hair out of her eyes as the other girl sits up. “Why would I ever stop?” Blake shrugs as she leans over and reaches on top of the table, grabs soft worn leather. It smells like a campfire and citrus. “Had to ask,” she says, rooting around in one of the inner pockets, “I’m lazy, I didn’t want to reach up for nothing.” Yang laughs, like the wind whistling through trees, and Blake finds herself smiling at it. “Scooch back a bit.” She requests, and Yang glances back, sees the pipe. She turns back to her and pouts, but does as asked, Blake’s extra weight not an issue. “Why?” She asks, but offers a wrist unprompted, lets her slap the cuff on, raises her arms and threads the other behind the pipe and closes it on her other wrist herself. “You don’t know how to keep your hands to yourself and you don’t know how to not leave evidence.” Yang sticks her tongue out at her. “You love it.” Blake snaps her teeth in front of her nose. “I do.” Probably more than I should. She reaches down, undoes the zipper and button on Yang’s cargos, with some shifting, she’s no longer on top of the taller girl, rather kneeling between her legs. Blake carefully cups her over her underwear, she hisses just at how hot Yang feels, even over her briefs. They’re damp. Yang, for her part, doesn’t react outside of her gaze going half-lidded. She manages to keep them open, keeping up the staring contest between them. Blake swallows, mouth suddenly watering. “How do you want it?”

“How do you wanna give it?”

“With how long we’re gonna take, they’ll think I tortured you. It’s more believable if it sounds that way as well.”

Yang licks her lips. “I’m only loud when it’s warranted. You know that.” Blake nods once, stoic. “Then that’s fine with me.” Blake’s the one that loses, she’s the first to look away, leaning in to drag her tongue along her collarbone. Yang tosses her head back. “It’s more believable if it looks like it too.” Blake hesitates but pulls her lips back and touches her teeth to the blonde’s skin, feels her tense up in anticipation. Blake never gives her the satisfaction, she doesn’t put any force behind it. “Hickies, bites. They look too much like what they are.” Blake’s free hand reaches up, digs its nails into Yang’s arm and drags down. Her reward is a sigh. “I’m afraid that’s all I can give you. Even that in moderation.”

“You know, cuts from a knife look just like what they are too.” Blake freezes at that, still like the dead. “Too much?” Yang asks, carefully neutral. “You’re fucking insane, Yang.”

“Maybe so. Nevermind then, I’ll take what I can get.” Blake cranes up to kiss her before she sits back and reaches for Gambol Shroud. A little wiggle and a tug and it was free of the floorboards. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t do it. The more satisfied you are when you leave the more likely it is you won’t come back.” Yang rolls her eyes. “So we’re back on that?” Blake wipes the dust on the blade off on her jacket, inspects the tip for damage. “We never got off of it.” She gets a muttered ‘okay’ from the blonde, but they’re both now more focused on Blake’s hands. Two nicks at the top and bottom hems and Yang’s tank is being torn down the middle. Blake opens it as wide as it can go before it stopped by the straps still around wide shoulders. They were both long passed being nervous with each other, were never there in the first place really, so of course Blake stares, drinks her in, and Yang lets her. “I’ll never get tired of this view.” Yang hums a little chuckle. “You can touch, y’know.” The other girl flips her knife around and holds it by the blade, sticks the handle between Yang’s teeth. Her hands splay out on either side of Yang’s navel, slide up at a snail’s pace across heated skin before she finally gets to the treasure. Soft, is the first thought. It’s obvious. Plush. She squeezes and her fingers sink in until she reaches the hard muscle underneath. A perfect little contrast, if she said so herself. She presses a kiss between twin tanned swells, both capped off with dark dusky peaks. Blake drags her tongue in a focusing swirl, flicks it against the nub she finds before she takes it in her mouth and sucks. Her teeth clamp down slowly, stop getting tighter when Yang stops breathing. Blake tugs back and lets it snap back into place when she hears the whine.

Blake reaches up and grabs her knife in her right hand, she can’t really bring herself to care about the drool that got on it. Her left dips below Yang’s waistband, passed a thatch of coarse curls to touch her skin to skin. “Shit, you’re wet.” Two slender fingers slip inside moist heat and just rest there to let her get used to them. Yang’s laugh comes quiet and breathy. “I’m not sure what you expected.” Blake huffs a chuckle herself at that, but quickly sobers. “You still want this?” She asks, holding up Gambol Shroud. Yang flicks her eyes over to it before meeting Blake’s gaze, offering her a smile and a nod as her eyes shine with masochistic glee.

The brunette mirrors the motion before looking down, trying to figure out where to make the first mark on her blank canvas. In the end she settles where she had started with her hands when she had gotten the shirt open. The sharp edge presses to her a few inches to the left of her bellybutton. She glances up at Yang’s face, catches the girl watching her before putting her attention back down. “Put a little pressure on it,” Yang encourages quietly, “and just drag across.” You make it sound so simple. It was, in theory, or at least it was supposed to be.

Blake takes a breath to try to calm her nerves. Puts a little pressure on it, drags to the right, watches the red line that shows up behind it.

Yang takes a gasping breath, clamps down so hard on Blake’s fingers she has the fleeting thought to take them out for fear of hurting herself. (She doesn’t, obviously, since that’s not possible but if it was she doesn’t know if she would then either.) “You okay?” She asks on principle alone, though she’s fairly certain she knows the answer.

“Again.” Yang demands, and who was she to deny her? Blake’s knife goes just above the last cut, and she repeats the process. She notices how Yang strains against the cuffs but knows better than to stop because of that. She leaves another red line just above her hipbone. If Yang were free her hands would be in Blake’s hair, tugging her down for a kiss, or leaving fingerprints on her skin. Blake moves a ways higher, places the edge under Yang’s breast and lets it slide against where her ribs are. Yang curses. “Move your fingers.”Blake licks her lips. “I’m not sure how much I trust my multi-tasking skills…”

“Not even gonna try?” Blake ducks her head, drops a kiss next to the most recent cut in apology. “Unfortunately not.” The blonde only pouts for a second before she concedes and Blake gets back to previous activities. The next slice is at the center valley of Yang’s abs, just below her sternum, straight up and down. More cuss words. Another follows the line of one side of her collarbone, just underneath it, and Blake kisses the bruised side too just for the sake of feeling like she’d been at both. Blake flutters her fingers inside Yang, scissors them open and closed, trying to give her something at least. She’s not sure which action has Yang tossing her head back against the floor with a thump, she safely assumes it’s both. “Blake, stop.” She looks up at that, questioning, tense, and meets pleading eyes. “Why?” She asks, but moves the knife away nonetheless, stops the motions of her other hand as Yang answers. “Just…” She grunts, a little frustrated sound as Blake goes still.”What?” Yang bucks her hips. “Fucking… Blake, please. Please.” A little crease of confusion appears between dark brows. “Please what?” She asks in genuine confusion, far from trying to tease right now.

”Fuck me.”

Blake’s ears droop as she relaxes. She uses the point of the blade to tilt Yang’s chin up and kisses her so gently you’d think they were lovers, and when she speaks it’s just as soft. “One more. You can do one more, can’t you?” Yang considers for a second and Blake waits with bated breath. She smiles when she gets a reluctant little nod. She places the edge after using it to cut Yang’s underwear away. “I’ll make it count.” She says. Blake curls her fingers none too gently, presses on Yang’s front wall as she drags Gambol Shroud down, down. The cut starts near her collarbone again, intersecting the previous one, and travels diagonally all the way down her sternum to end close to the one on her ribs. Blake wishes she had a camera to capture the moment, sadly she’s just relegated to taking a snapshot to save in her own memory, Yang arching her back off the floor, scarlett starting to run from the thin lines, eyes closed in a mix of bliss and desperation. Yang moans, loud and keening, pitch raising into a whine at the end. “Shhh…” Blake soothes as she tosses her knife away, forgetting the goal or ignoring it. That sound belongs to her. It’s mine, she decides. She doesn’t want to share.

Yang however, pays no mind to the ‘sh’. Blake finally starts pistoning her fingers in and out of her folds at a merciless pace and she can’t stop the noises that spill from her lips. The faunus covers the other girl’s mouth with her hand, muffling her. Blake keeps her pace nice and steady, fast and punishing. She runs the flat of her tongue up the column of Yang’s neck. “You probably can’t,” she breathes into her ear, “but I can hear every wet noise coming from your cunt right now. God, it has me dripping.” Yang makes some kind of strangled noise against her hand and Blake hums a laugh, muffling it into thick blonde tresses. Blake starts angling her hand at the end of every thrust, dragging against that special spot that makes Yang’s breath stutter in her chest just so. “Fuck, breathe, Yang.” The brunette appreciates the way her chest expands as she does just that, and doesn’t bother trying to resist the urge to lick at the droplet of sweat she sees rolling down one of her breasts.

Yang’s whimpers, and starts making insistent noises through her nose. “Be quiet.” Blake says, and wetly kisses the corner of her jaw. “...unless you’re trying to tell me to stop.” That gets Yang to quiet down right quick, and Blake speeds her motions and leans back to watch the sight, murmurs a curse at it. Blake doesn’t see Yang’s eyes narrow but she feels when the blonde open her mouth wide and sinks her teeth into the fleshy part of her hand. She snatches away from her quickly with a hiss, stopping the movement of her hand but leaving her fingers buried deep as she checked to make sure Yang hadn’t drawn blood. “What the fu-” she starts, only to be cut off by Yang’s cold mutter of her name. She looks up to find Yang staring at her, desperate. “I can’t cum if you don’t touch my clit, Blake.” The girl in question just blinks, the realization dawning on her. She hadn’t meant to tease. Sometimes Yang needed the extra stimulation, she hadn’t considered that could be the case today.

Apparently her deliberation in her own head was taking too long for Yang. She grinds down against Blake’s hand as best she can, anything better than a cold stop apparently. “Blake, touch me.” Blake pulls out, Yang sucking air through her teeth sharply at the action. “I’ll get you there, Yang,” the faunus murmurs quietly. She splays her fingers over Yang’s mons, carefully presses the pad of her thumb against the throbbing nub peeking from its hood, feeling it pulse in staccato. She flicks her eyes up at the ‘thunk’ she hears to see Yang with her head tossed back. “Please…” She swallows and leans down, licks a hot stripe across the entire expanse of that collarbone, doesn’t shy away from the lacerations she made. The flavor of copper sends a shiver down her spine and she starts drawing tight circles on the blonde’s clit. Blake reaches up and digs her fingertips into the hollows of Yang’s cheeks to make her lift her head up and kisses her hard and deep, sharing the taste. “How close?” She asks when she finally pulls back, breathless.

Yang turns her head, hides it in her own shoulder. “Just a little more…” Blake nods even though Yang can’t see her and looks down, considering. She digs her nails at her ribs and drags down, five pale lines quickly turning red, earning her another moan. Blake roughly paws at her breast, teasing a nipple as she speeds up the little circles as quick as she can. She can see Yang’s muscles tensing, she knows it’s coming. “Yang.” She says, almost too quiet to be heard. “Look at me.” The bigger girl doesn’t move. She takes her hand off Yang’s breast and slaps her inner thigh, the sound of impact loud, and Yang jumps with a yelp . “Look at me,” Blake pleads, soft, delicate. She rakes her nails against where her leg meets her hip and Yang trembles. Blake grabs her by her jaw and makes her turn her head as she stiffens. “Let me see your eyes.” She says, a prayer, and watches Yang’s lashes part as she finally falls off the edge. Yang groans low in her throat and bites down so hard on her bottom lip Blake’s surprised she doesn’t break skin, eyelids fluttering as she struggles to keep them open. Blake’s unable to look away as Yang comes undone, mesmerized. Whatever fireworks would have gone off behind her eyelids if they were closed, Blake thinks she can see them in lilac irises now, flickering beautiful and bright.

Blake eases her down from the peak slowly and gently, taking her hand away when the crease between blonde brows deepens. If she really wanted her too, Blake knows Yang would have taken anything else she gave her, but Blake’s finished, unwilling to to test her limits today. She cups Yang’s cheeks and kisses her, so tender as they finally break eye-contact. Blake reaches up and undoes the handcuffs, helps Yang take them off and then gets up, grabs Yang’s jacket from across the room and tucks them into the inner pocket. When she turns around Yang’s already on her feet, scooping up Gambol Shroud and laying it on the table cautiously. The shorter girl walks over, watching her hands dust dirt off the leather. She can feel the blonde’s gaze on her but she refuses to look up, even as she stretches to help her into the jacket and pulls the ripped edges of the tank to cover what it can, dusky areolas playing peek-a-boo. Blake goes to zip the jacket closed-

“Leave it. It’s better if they can see.” She freezes, unsure of her next move all of a sudden. “...Blake?”

She can’t bring herself to meet her gaze, her blood rushes loudly in her ears. A window was cracked open, and something was threatening to slip its way inside.

One of Yang’s hands covers both of hers, rough, warm, and she’s not quite sure when they started shaking. Yang tilts her head up with her other hand, and Blake doesn’t fight her, but she keeps her eyes trained down on her lips. She was bleeding again. “Baby,” Yang all but whispers. “...Look at me.”

Blake closes her eyes like the window easing shut, keeping it trapped outside, and cranes her neck to kiss her again, like making a point not to lock it. Yang lets Blake control the pace at first but in the end she pulls back first, completely, stepping away and turning around as she buttons her pants. Blake whips the lone tear on her cheek away. “Think anyone can smell me?”

She sniffs once, twice, under the pretense Yang has so freely given her. “You’re fine.” The blonde’s nods and turns around, smile not quite reaching her eyes. “More than, I hope.” Blake mirrors her, corner of her lip turning up in fabricated mirth. “Well I did just fuck you into the floor.”

“Knowing how bad your taste is, Belladonna, that just makes me more worried.”

A laugh bubbles up from her chest, somehow. You’re beautiful, she doesn’t say. “Go home already.” She says instead, feigning exasperation, and immediately regrets it. Neither one of them is smiling anymore.

“I guess I should, huh?”

Blake mutters a ‘wait’ and goes over to the table, scribbles on a paper. She gives the slip to her once she’s finished and explains how it’ll keep her out of trouble on her way back and Yang nods as she takes it. Yang starts for the doorway without her coaxing, finally leaving like Blake had been begging her too, but pauses, and something in her flickers. “Bye.” She says, and Blake can’t help feeling like that’s far too much of an unsatisfying end. She swallows. “Sunday.” She calls to Yang’s back, and suddenly maybe it’s not an end anymore, she’s reminded it never was, as much as she needs it to be, they both need it to be. “You’re coming back Sunday.” She knows she’s selfish. Yang, hand on the doorjam. She turns her head just enough for Blake to see her in profile as she takes a breath in preparation to say something that probably would have shattered them both before apparently thinking better of it, shaking her head.

“...bye, Blake.”

The curtain swishes as it returns to it's original position and Blake takes a shaky breath. "Bye."