Chapter Text
I’m terribly heavy down here.
The tall woman on Mahiro’s shoulder pops another pastry into her mouth. She chews with her eyebrows in a disturbed furrow, face flushed.
“Ryo-san, that’s no fair,” groans Mahiro, her grip around the woman’s elbow growing tight. “We already left the living room. I want one too~”
The layered sleeves covering their locked arms are nothing short of a nuisance.
I need myself bare against you.
“Oi… you had way too many back there,” Ryoga grumbles while swallowing. She still looks dazed. As if she’s restraining herself and winning at it. (She surely is.) “You freaked poor ol’ Haru out. Lemme have something on a cheat day.”
‘Do you have any left?” Mahiro idly buries her face into the woolly fabric on Ryoga’s arm. What can I say, the sweets in-charge mixed magic in ‘em…
“No. You’ll get worse if you have another.” Ryoga runs a hand through her hair, tilting her head to – for once – gaze into Mahiro’s restless eyes. “Let’s just go up and taste it on each other.”
All Mahiro can do under that eye-contact is squirm.
Two flights of stairs have never felt so much of a chore. Mahiro has a good mind to strip herself bare on the landing and bring the woman on her shoulder to indulge her in the corner.
But nope, Ryo-san’ll bring up things like the cameras, or certain other members getting mad at them for public obscenity in the dorm, or PLANTs knows what else. And they’ve already agreed to have their first time inside, so the redhead only sniffs and drags her feet up the stairs, trailing behind a seemingly clearer-headed Ryoga.
“When’s your… period due for? Did you already get it this month, or is it on its way?”
“… I’d already got it earlier… Usually around halfway the month, so. It’s done. Yup!”
She feels the grip around her elbow tighten. Was that a shudder from Ryoga? You’d think they were walking to a movie theatre to watch a horror she’s not ready for.
Mahiro quirks up her lips. “Does Ryo-san not like doing it with blood?”
The older woman, face red enough to match her partially-concealed left eye, opens her mouth – but can only exhale before shutting it again. Her pursed painted lips push against each other, as if fighting to displace the other lip first… or to seal into one.
Ryoga just grunts through her nose.
Mahiro lets four seconds of laughter burst out, resting her forehead against the other’s sturdy shoulder. “Ryooo-san. Why are you even embarrassed at this time?” She turns her head to look at Ryoga, still red. “You do realise we’ll be doing it within… fifteen minutes whatsoever. Right?”
Ryoga parts her mouth with initiative, and the faint wet pop before she speaks strikes into Mahiro’s ear, making her knees just a little weaker.
“Yeah, ‘fcourse. It’s different with menstruation. Even with the seed working to suppress your cramps, orgasms go a long way in relieving any remaining pain,” Ryoga mutters, almost to herself before picking up volume. “People have different preferences, and you'd need a few more precautions. The usual areas, they get extra sensitive, so I’d need to handle ‘em with greater care. I can’t overwhelm or discomfort you.”
I already know that, silly ass Ryo-san. But you look good talking like this.
“I was asking what you prefer.”
Ryoga hisses through her teeth, and turns her head the other way.
“I… I mean… with precautions… it ain’t bad. More to work with. Blood can taste good.”
All Mahiro can see is thick, wavy dark hair, reflecting olive green under the dim hallway lights.
She’s not sure how she’s able to stand – let alone walk – with the insides of her thighs trembling, begging for exposure to the open air, for a touch it is yet to experience. But she reaches her hand out, letting the hair tickle it, feeling for the older woman’s chin to gently turn it back to her own face.
Ryoga’s lips are pursed again, and she’s breathing quick through her nose.
Mahiro couldn’t care less if what she says is true. She’s preoccupied elsewhere. “I don’t mind it either. With you, Ryo-san.”
Those lips fall open. Mahiro can’t even act on the moist pop before an arm folds around her waist and turns her in a whirlwind, holding her right up against her companion.
Ryoga, holding her hair back with her other hand, presses her parted mouth firm against the redhead’s cheek, dragging it, slow and sensual, down to the jaw.
“Ha… Hey,” shudders Mahiro, her knees close to crossing, her insides doubling on the heavy and moist by the second. She strains to push her mouth against Ryoga’s in vain – the hand on her back has moved up to lodge its fingers under the younger woman’s face. Ryoga continues to steer her lips against skin suddenly too soft and volatile, on anywhere that isn’t the mouth clamouring for that contact.
“Not now, Hiro.” That name, that wetness, that hush, it’s pushing hard into all of her. “I know how this works. There are steps. We save it… for when we get there.”
“Don’t be stingy,” whines Mahiro, every syllable pouring out one after another in rapidfire succession. “There’s no hard and fast rule. I don’t mind it. We’re both in the mood anyway.”
Ryoga teases the shell of the girl’s ear, exhaling into her kisses. So quiet, so noisy, so perfectly noisy. “It’s you I’m with. I want to give you the pleasure you deserve. Trust me, Hiro.”
Mahiro gulps, her chest close to leaning right into Ryoga’s for support. But I need to hang in there. Till we reach the room. I can’t give in before we even do anything.
This is what I get for getting too horny as an amateur – no, a newbie, says the rational corner tucked away inside her head.
“Fine, let’s move,” whispers the rest of her. Crumbling away into silence as Ryoga pulls away from her jaw with a faint smirk.
Mahiro feels fingers shuffle down onto the small of her back as they walk, nearly speeding through the winding corridor.
“Can you kiss me now?”
The door makes way for the two, the screech of the hinges and clicks of the system muffled through Mahiro’s haze.
“Drop your bag right here,” says Ryoga.
Within that instant, her backpack – light with only her essentials for going out – falls to the floor next to Ryoga’s own tote, against the door now locked from the inside.
She kicks her sneakers off.
Within the next instant, her own back is pushed against the door. All ten of Ryoga’s fingers, long, shapely, calloused from years of heavy-lifting, trace Mahiro. One hand caressing her neck, the other moving as low as it can while the two of them stand, halting on the fabric below the waistband of Mahiro’s trousers.
“Now I can,” Ryoga whispers in passing, moving inward and into.
Their lips meet at an angle and drag against each other before pulling right off. A new charge courses through amateur Mahiro, replenishing the heavy warmth inside her, and the lushness between her thighs. The next kiss is moister, the one after that longer drawn-out, and at the fourth kiss, Mahiro slides her tongue into the older woman’s mouth at the sexiest pace she can conceive, tasting a hint of mocktail underneath the chocolate from earlier. Ryoga’s shoulders and throat bob in quick response as she parts her mouth wider, shifting it against Mahiro’s, and letting the mole right below her lip receive the fifth kiss.
“How are you feeling, Hiro?” Ryoga brushes her lips against the lobe of Mahiro’s bare ear. Her neck smells of sea salt and some sort of wood.
“Mm. I feel… nice,” mumbles the redhead, her eyes wandering down the turtleneck capturing Ryoga’s thick figure to near-perfection.
“Hm? Sure?”
The shirt shifts away from vision. Ryoga’s eyes have changed from the warm and enchanting they were back in the hallway, when the consent was freshly-registered in both of them. Now her look is dark, intensely hypnotising.
Something – fingertip? – traces a faint circle on Mahiro’s nape. A different charge plunges through her body, while Ryoga captures the younger’s open mouth with her own, manoeuvring her tongue against Mahiro’s, slowly swirling her way in with circular motions.
And then she’s pulled away, giving Hiro that dark gaze again. She licks her still-opened mouth, her tongue in full view, inviting rather than eager.
“Tell me how you’re feeling.”
Mahiro gulps. “I… I feel heavy. I want to be touched… I want my body to feel good right where it wants. But… I don’t want the feeling to fade within minutes. I don’t want it gone so quickly.”
It’s my honest feeling, just as Ryo-san wants to know. It’s selfish, and I don’t wholly like it, but it’s not under my control.
“Gotcha. I’ll let you ride your high for as long as I can.” Ryoga plays with the zip on the girl’s jacket, letting it rumble halfway down, and then toying with it some more. Mahiro remembers the standard Mahiro t-shirt she’s wearing. And the unflattering innerwear beneath. And that she hadn’t planned for any of this in the day, apart from a rare late shower.
Dammit.
“What would you like me to start with?” Ryoga continues to trace her finger on the nape. The pattern changes after two rounds, each mimicking a new course along the memorised contours of Mahiro’s anemone.
“Anything you like,” whispers Mahiro, pushing her back off the door and maintaining Ryoga’s hold on her neck as they move towards the bed. Her vulva throbs harder.
The zip slides and clicks as it detaches from the other half of the jacket. Ryoga moves each hand along a sleeve, pushing the black denim off in folds and letting it fall into a flat heap.
“Would you like something you’re familiar with, or do I surprise you?” Her hands wander back up to massage Mahiro’s bare biceps, feeling the roundness of her shoulders.
“Eh… Beyond kissing, I haven’t done much in the past. Just… eating… out,” gulps Mahiro. Looks like it’s her time to get red. “I’ve given and received it both, once or twice. Never lasted that long after one org, so we’d just. Kiss more. And then leave.”
Ryoga moves a finger along the cartoon penguin on Mahiro’s shirt. Her eyes, hazel and red, flit back up to meet the other’s uncertain gaze. “Are you comfortable with receiving? I’ve given plenty, maybe you’ll strike some luck with my… application,” she remarks with a slight chuckle and a raised eyebrow.
Mahiro’s chest heaves without prompting.
“Mm. Yeah, I’m alright with receiving.” It’s the closest to familiar ground, like she’d mentioned. Ryoga’s mouth, fading lipstick smeared around it, lips themselves moistened and reddened by the make-out, the mole – all sear their image into the girl. The thought of that pressing against and into her neediest spot, and that tongue, glistened with experience, having its way with her…
“Okay. It’s a good starter before we take a break and move onto newer positions,” Ryoga says, and as if she knows where Hiro’s mind wanders, she hovers her lips to give her a butterfly peck. “Have you cleaned down there? Do you want a quick break before we start?”
Mahiro sighs in rare relief. “Thankfully, I’d properly showered right before meeting you all. That was two hours ago, so I don’t think I’ll ne–”
Arms crossed, Ryoga pulls up the hem of her turtleneck, letting it mess up her bangs and the rest of her hair as it comes off through her head.
The wine-red tank top underneath, a subtle silk-like texture, clings to her muscles and curves for dear life.
Mahiro is wet.
“Hey… Ryo-san…”
“Mm?” The older woman, having briefly moved to the desk opposite the bed, fixes her hair into a ponytail as she steps back into place.
I get the feeling she knows what she’s doing to me even in these moments. Ryo-san is creepy.
“Did you work out a lot today? There’s… a lot of sweat. On your. Top.”
“Nah, today was rest for me,” she says, wetting her lips yet again as she sits on the edge of the bed and beckons for Hiro to follow. “Should I change or wipe it off?”
“N– No. Absolutely not,” sputters Hiro. “It’s fine, it’s all good, I like sweat, I mean… I mean I’m okay with sweat. I just…”
Ryoga chuckles. “Alright, I won’t. I’m here. Do you need anything? I have extra towels in stock, and two pillows all ready.”
“Mm. I’m okay for now, thank you.” Mahiro, cracking her knuckles as calmly as she can appear to look, joins Ryoga in sitting. Her arms are toned and sturdy as last remembered, and the green clover and its own beautiful curves rests on her right bicep. “I… I’m just surprised you happened to wear something close to red today. Y’know, my colour and all…”
Ryoga laughs again, and reaches out a hand to arrange any stray strands of hair behind Mahiro’s ears, then combing her fingers through the bangs. “What can I say, most reds have always looked good against me. We literally complement each other.” Her voice drops to a murmur near the end. “But… I guess this choice was lucky on my end again.”
There are no goosebumps on Ryoga’s arms to match the ones populating Mahiro’s own at the moment. But her nipples protrude as slight bumps through the opaque fabric. She has more underneath, eh…
“Hiro, will you stay the night here?” Ryoga’s gotten up again. Moving things around.
“I’m not sure… I didn’t bring spare clothes or a toothbrush. I’m not that well-equipped.”
“Thought so. My plan is that after I’ve taken care of you, I’ll get one of the members to fetch fresh clothes from your room. Kaoru, most likely. Are you alright with that?”
I really don’t want to leave now that I’m here and aching to start. And I’m not gonna be in shape afterwards either. And I know how Ryo-san is when it comes to me. The last thing she’d want to do is leave me alone here to get my stuff herself.
“Yeah, sounds good! Thanks as always.”
And I just want to be next to Ryo-san tonight.
“Alright.” Ryoga, having moved over to the bedpost, has arranged the aforementioned pillows in a stack. That pile of towels wasn’t on the bedside table before. Quick. “I propose this because one, I think it’s best you stay here to sleep if I’ll be keeping you busy for the rest of the evening, just the way you want it.”
Mahiro chews her bottom lip, holding back a smile.
“And two, what I’ll be trying to get you started with, involves you having your panties on. Soiling them in the process.”
She won’t be surprised if her bottom lip is actively competing with her vulva for blood supply, with the way her teeth dig deep into it.
“Ryo-san… I think I might have soiled them already.”
There’s that low, rumbling chuckle to further testify that statement.
“Come here, Hiro. Make yourself comfortable.”
Feet already bare, the redhead rolls onto the mattress, hauling herself up onto the stack. Legs flat, at ease.
Ryoga is right in front, loosely sandwiched between Mahiro’s feet, on her knees and back upright.
A dim yellow light envelopes the two.
“My bad for making you wait,” she whispers as she bends over.
Warm, calloused hands move in circular patterns under Mahiro’s shirt, as Ryoga moves in for a quiet, solemn kiss, their lips angling against each other without much fanfare.
“It’s cute, but I’m taking this off.” Ryoga lines her hands on either side of the younger woman’s shirt hem.
“By all means,” breathes Mahiro, stretching her arms upward, the backhanded joke about her beloved penguin not the first or second thing on her mind.
It’s tossed to the floor in a second, and Ryoga moves in for another kiss – this time, dragging her parted lips down in the manner of a paintbrush, from her chin down the neck to her chest, and proceeding to kiss all across her collarbones and the breast skin not concealed by Hiro’s bra.
“Goosebumps… that’s cute on you.” Ryoga’s murmurs vibrate into the receiver’s skin, as her kisses become moister, more open-mouthed, down her way to the abdomen. Mahiro’s exhales, shaky and short of air, are now audible enough for Ryoga’s ears from this position, such that she moves up her hands to rub circles into the girl’s arms.
“Hiro. Oi. Take deep breaths. Follow me.”
Mahiro gulps while nodding, timing her breaths with the wave-like movement of Ryoga’s shoulders, savouring the warm air being blown onto her belly at the same time.
“Better?” asks Ryoga as she maintains the pattern.
“Yeah, sorry.”
“No, my bad. I should have checked your breathing earlier. Is it too cold for you?”
“No, I’m just trembling from the… wait of it all.” Did she not get a hint when I told her my panties are already done for?
“Trust me. Keep taking deep breaths.” The kisses continue. Mahiro watches, continuing the pattern as Ryoga reaches the waistband of her trousers.
“I’m surprised you were able to keep these on for long,” smirks Ryoga, pressing her lips above Mahiro’s belly button as she moves a hand to unfasten the waistband buttons.
She got the hint alright.
They come off surprisingly smooth, and promptly join the poor penguin at the foothills.
Both women sigh at once, Mahiro at the sudden long-craved exposure to air, Ryoga seemingly at the sight of her partner’s bare legs, well-built in their own right from the idol training.
“Hiro. Open them up. Not too wide.”
Mahiro jumps in her skin and shakes the shock off to follow the command.
“Very good,” Ryoga nearly groans, running her arms to warm the opposite side of the girl’s legs while dedicatedly leaving sticky kisses and heated exhales up and down one inner thigh.
She repeats with the other. “They’re so soft. Good. That’s… good…”
Mahiro’s eyes catch the faint kiss marks all over her torso, save most of her breasts. Wine to match Ryoga’s top, now that she realises. Seems the lipstick the older woman had on when they were together with the other five didn’t finish from the make-out.
I wonder how much I’ve got on my thighs and face.
I wonder if I’d have the heart to wipe them off later…
No. Not the time. Stay in the present.
There’s no way she can’t. Not when Ryoga has reached her destination, lightly stroking in between Mahiro’s legs, feeling the fabric covering her vulva.
She blows warm air onto the target, twice, thrice. Propped up with one elbow, Ryoga moves a free hand to make light up-down motions on the fabric – with just two fingers, it seems.
“… off sooner than you thi…”
“E– Eh?” Shudders have returned to blend into Mahiro’s deep breaths. Ryoga’s fingers now trace the bump in the centre, clinging to her panties. With a sharp exhale, Mahiro pushes her bare hips just a little further up the pillows.
“Great. Yeah,” she hears Ryoga breathe as she continues the strokes.
Moving both hands to now rub circles into the inner thighs, Ryoga makes subtle motions with her head, feeling for the cloaked vulva with her nose. Mahiro’s underpants aren’t of the best fabric for such sensual teasing – so was that why Ryo-san said she’ll get them off soon? – but her arousal is enough for the wetness to keep up and keep on. Ryoga takes deep, sniff-like breaths right into her panties, tracing the rough diamond shape of the vulva with her nose.
She then caresses the area and its folds with her parted mouth, not ghosting it, not pushing it with force, but pressing it right so, such that no empty air intervenes – the only layer between her lips and Mahiro’s spot being cotton.
And fuck, Mahiro feels herself contract and release more fluid, right against Ryoga’s low, warm sigh.
“Ryo… san…”
“Hm?”
Mahiro gulps as she feels the nose returning to tease and pamper, as her own insides continue to throb slow and steady. “I want… my pants off. Quickly… please.”
“Keep your legs as they are.” The rumbles lap through the redhead’s body.
Mahiro firms her feet onto the towel.
Letting her teeth lightly scrape through Hiro’s thigh, Ryoga captures the final waistband with her mouth, maintaining a grip as she pulls up one half of the underpants through the girl’s knee, using a finger to deal with the second half in the same instant. Mahiro releases a strained moan as cool air seemingly – and finally – slams against the full surface area of herself.
“Hiro. Move your legs wider apart. Over my shoulders. And keep your feet against my back.”
Ryoga crawls closer, shifting her ponytail behind her.
From where she sits, Mahiro watches Ryoga draw in a sharp breath, her dual-coloured eyes dilating as she takes in the sight of the vulva even Mahiro herself cannot check up on, in this last minute. Shit, how does it even look to her… all that hair I only trim every other month, and that wetne–
“Ahh. Good girl,” Ryoga breathily groans as the younger woman’s knees and feet lock into place behind her back, as she strokes Hiro’s thighs while taking deep sniffs, her gaze seemingly reverent, sighting an old friend come home at long last. “It’s swollen… and it’s leaking… Beautiful…”
Mahiro shudders, the embarrassing description inducing uncertainty she knows she shouldn’t need. “Ryo-san… This isn’t some… curry I worked hard on… for you to sniff like… that.”
“But that’s exactly… what it is…” Ryoga begins laying butterfly kisses on the skin surrounding the vulva. “Thank you for the food.”
Right. It’s called eating, after all. I’ll give her that!
“Hiro.” Ryoga’s voice has dropped in between the garnishing kisses, a grave undertone to her words. Mahiro snaps into attention. “I’m going for it now. Keep telling me how you feel. The moment you dislike something, tell me to stop.”
“Mmn. Yeah,” whimpers Mahiro, firming her ass against the pillows.
Ryoga draws in a final inhale, letting a long breath billow out onto the lush vulva. It’s warm against the coolness of the room. It feels beautiful.
“Eyes, on me.”
An elaborate performance ensues. Ryoga makes sure Mahiro’s gaze is on her, as she lifts her eyes – dark and inviting yet again – from the meal pushed out in between those thighs, to Mahiro’s quivering mouth, then to her wide chocolate eyes. She parts open her mouth, the moist pop sharper than ever.
Her tongue, fleshy, shining, serpentine, makes its way out of the cave, slithering onto and gliding across Ryoga’s lips into slow ovals. She lowers her neck and head just as her tongue moves to hang straight from her mouth.
Hiro feels a finger fixing into place on either side of her labia.
The first lick tickles, past hair and volatile flesh. Mahiro’s thighs tense up of their own accord, timed with a shudder-like giggle.
“Hiro.”
“Mm. Yep. Good,” whispers the receiver. She remembers the deep breaths that helped her in the foreplay, and her chest begins to lap up and down in that steady rhythm.
“‘Kay,” murmurs Ryoga.
The next lick is at the same languid pace as before. Cool sandpaper. It presses firmer against Mahiro’s flaps and layers, feeling for the fluid, brushing right past the clit and its hood.
Mahiro sighs, the charge riding on her exhale, her upper body rolling in sync. And the giver moves in for a third lick, fixing a pattern in place.
A wet slurp mixes into Ryoga’s inhale at the fourth lick, again at the fifth. Mahiro jumps at the registration that her hips have stirred to new life, tracing slow teardrop shapes onto the pillow, pushing her pussy back and forth up against the tongue. Her heels, resting on the sturdy muscles of Ryoga’s back, move with these teardrops. A subtle charge moves through her body with every slurp.
“Aaatta-girl,” exhales Ryoga, rolling her shoulders in sync.
Do Mahiro’s hips, rocking up and down, set the tone for the older woman, or is it that darned tongue which really dictates the girl who’s never before received such elaborate, spot-on, devoted ministrations?
“Ryo-saan…”
“Mm…”
Mahiro continues rolling her torso and ass, soaking in the slurps and Ryoga’s low praises.
“Do I… does it, look good? I’m… still not… suuure… Ahh…”
Ryoga shakes her head in between her licks. And she pauses. Mahiro gulps as she notices the traces of clear fluid on the tip of Ryoga’s tongue, promptly disappearing as she swirls it inside her mouth.
“It’s gorgeous… it’s cute. Swollen and blushing all over, like your face.” Ryoga parts her mouth in a sigh, her eyebrows angled as if she’s already done with dinner. “It’s… even… Hah…”
“H– Huh?” Even?
“Later,” slurs Ryoga, smearing her lips on the mons. “Sooo good. Am gonna change something now. Tell me how it feels.”
“Yeah…”
She licks her lips again, replenished with saliva.
The first lick is at the same pace. Ryoga then presses her lips on the base, gliding them up her way through the labia, and wetly sucking in air and fluid at the top.
Mahiro breaks into a wordless, bellow-like moan. The contraption in her buttocks and legs immediately sets into motion, moving back and forth with the first lick, back and forth again with the second kiss-and-suck.
Lick, kiss, lick, kiss, lick, kiss, sensual, slow, easy, wet. The two mates dance as one in this rhythm.
“Hiiiro…” Ryoga’s eyes are on Mahiro’s face, her mouth having memorised the terrain of her vulva by now.
“Mm… Mmn?”
“You… look… incredible… rolling like that,” she whispers, smacking her lips to savour the arousal fluid. “The sweat’s… dancing… down your curves… it’s… driving me…”
“What the… ah…?”
“I want… more of you… God…”
Kiss, lick, kiss, lick. Deep sucks. Tongue sliding onto Mahiro’s hood even at each suck. Fingers lightly stroking the contours of her wet flaps, the hair on the outskirts. Ryoga leaving no part untouched, claiming every volatile inch of Mahiro. Kiss nearly merging into lick, lick nearly merging into kiss, yet staying apart, delivering the perfect contrast.
The pattern calms and reassures, yet every step within the pattern feels too much, too wet and wild. But she can’t pull away, not when Ryoga’s mouth satiates the raw throbbing neediness of her vulva.
Having memorised her own movements, Mahiro begins to register new things that have been here for a while.
That droplets of sweat are everywhere on her, in spite of the lack of heating in the room. They trail down her heaving belly in steady lines, dancing with her and Ryoga.
That no person who has attempted to eat her out has ever had her dance like this, with them, of her own accord.
That her hands have been on Ryoga’s head… for… probably since the rhythm started. Fingers already deep into her hair, which surprisingly isn't tangled or messy the way she often lets it be on rest days.
She’s used some products. Right, they’d all opted for a mature party-like atmosphere for their one weekend as seven. Look your best, and allat.
Exactly where the heaviness began building up… and that craving for one unitmate. Even if they’ve already been ‘together’ for a while…
“Ryo-san… what had… you wanted to say?”
“Mm?”
Mahiro chews on her lips, using this pause to catch her breath. “When you were saying… all that about my… You said that… it was… ‘even’… Even… what?”
Ryoga exhales into her, teasing the clitoral hood off with her tongue. Her eyes flit to the vulva, and back up to Mahiro as she puts up a faint smirk.
“I meant yours is even… better than I’d ever imagined it’d feel,” she answers into the spot, her lips brushing right past the clit in their movements.
Mahiro’s insides tense and surge, and without second thoughts, her fingers dig into Ryoga’s scalp.
“Fuck,” breathes Ryoga, and she immediately gets to the lick-and-kiss rhythm, the pattern smoother than before, the slurps just as intense, the sucks just as moist and cool.
Mahiro’s half of the contraption follows suit within that instant, and she swears she’s getting even lusher against that slick tongue, that somehow, her core is starting to move in on itself, tight and tense.
“Close,” she whines.
She feels her giver’s deft mouth devouring the fluid as soon as it squelches from her vagina. Squirms as her giver moans and smacks her lips against Mahiro’s own. Bears with her heart slamming against her ribs with every roll and gallop.
Y’know… Ryo-san… If I speak for myself…
Mahiro’s hand wanders close to the hair tie keeping Ryoga’s mane together.
You’d look even more incredible eating me…
Each kiss moves closer onto the clit. Each lick firmer against it. The duo’s oscillations grow sharper. The receiver’s fingers fasten around the elastic bundle, looser than she’d imagined.
If I mess you up.
Mahiro drags the elastic off in two quick pulls. Her other hand sprawls into the thick expanse of Ryoga’s green hair, plunging up and down in sync with the contraption, letting those bangs and locks embrace the eater’s face and sturdy muscles.
“Oh, you,” groans Ryoga in between ministrations, maintaining the perfect pace.
Blinking away a tear, Mahiro fixes her gaze onto the face in between her rocking thighs.
One large hand fixed under Mahiro’s hips, the other still framing her vulva. Dark lush hair glowing green, filling in all negative space, framing the girl’s thighs and belly. A wild goddess of desire laps and slurps at the offerings in her devotee’s trembling shrine.
Ryoga’s flushed lips curve into a winning smile, as she drags her tongue across the labia, and swirls it right onto Mahiro’s clit, flicking it off the hood.
The string holding Mahiro together snaps in one twang, in a melodious scream.
Breaking from the rocking pattern, her back arches over the pillows as any moist heaviness courses away from her insides in pulsating vibrations, flowing out onto the towel, painting her thighs and Ryoga’s mouth.
“H– Hiro! Deep breaths! Take deep breaths!”
“Ry… Ryo-saaan,” she mewls as her body rocks on its own, anchored still onto her giver’s back.
Shifting her hands further down Ryoga’s head, Mahiro attempts to regain control of her lungs, timing deep breaths. Fresh chilling charges rush across her head and spine, almost elevating her above the pillows, above the woman who led her to finish at unprecedented levels of euphoria.
Fuck, can it actually get this good? Am I imagining it? Am I exaggerating the senses in my head just because it’s Ryo-san, whom I’ve wanted to be this way with for the longest?
“I… love it… Feel crazy… Fuuuck…” whines Mahiro, grounding herself in her rocking movements.
Watching Mahiro on her high, Ryoga laps up the come smeared across her mouth, moving her free fingers to scoop up at the parts her tongue can’t go. She breathes, the smile still on her face, on her eyes.
How long has she planned for this? Can I believe her picking up on the things that strike me the most, curating those for my very pleasure?
She moves back in, laying soft, velvety kisses along the unstained parts of the younger woman’s thighs. Eyes still on Hiro’s own.
Mahiro blinks twice for a better view.
Fuck! She surely did! I might second-guess later on, but I don’t give a fuck right now!
Right now…
“Hey, Hiro,” whispers Ryoga, hauling herself to her knees as she aids Mahiro in detaching her legs from her back.
“Ryo-saan…” The redhead, red all over really, stretches her back and rolls her neck, listening for little pops of air inside. She watches as Ryoga licks off the last strands of fluid from her fingers, stretching her now-freed arms.
“You’re creepy.”
“Oi! Creepy?” Ryoga laughs as she tugs at the stained towel, rolling it up, shifting herself off the bed to toss it into the laundry basket. Enough wet things on the floor already, huh?
“You… know too much,” mumbles the girl. “About me.”
Ryoga leans against the bedside table, gazing right at her. It’s the same expression she wore right before licking Hiro to completion, her open hair clouded round her sharp face.
“You did so damn good, Hiro. Every inch of you was delicious. I was… too fixated to change anything else, or to pull away for too long.”
Mahiro shivers, folding her legs as close as she can, the air slamming against her insides suddenly too cold.
Ryoga grabs the second towel on the table behind her, bending over to unfurl and arrange it in a wrap around Mahiro’s thighs. She moves her hands to rub firm circles onto the younger woman’s bare feet. The friction makes for a warmth holding its own against the room temperature.
“I’m sorry… I didn’t do enough to keep you pleasured for longer,” sighs Ryoga. “You seemed too blissful, and I was just… scared to try anything that would bring it all to falter.”
The words idly rush in and out of Mahiro’s ears. She understands well. She’s just… too dizzy to respond to that. It’s not like this is the end.
She shuffles her way further into the towel, making herself as comfortable as possible.
“Ryo-san…”
“Hm?”
“Is my come still in your mouth?”
“Some, yeah.”
“Can I taste it?”
Ryoga chuckles, and tosses her hair out of the way. A hand moves to lodge itself under the redhead’s chin, angling it up right so. Mahiro’s own hand wanders up to rest on Ryoga’s nape.
Up close, the eyes fixed onto Hiro’s lips look weighed down – without the exhaustion. A warm gleam decorates the coldness of the red iris, and the tranquility of the hazel.
Their mouths move onto each other calm and steady, plush against plush, and pull away. Upon meeting again at a new angle, they fall open in sync, Ryoga letting out a low wet moan in response to Mahiro sliding in her tongue, rubbing against traces of thick fluid.
“You like it?” Ryoga shifts to press her mouth in the opposite angle, her tongue slithering across Mahiro’s flushed bottom lip.
Mahiro hums into the obscene, open-mouthed kiss. She wordlessly relishes herself as served on Ryoga’s palate. Not… bad…
“That’s right,” groans the woman looming above her. “It’s just a tiny bit sweet. It’s perfect.”
“Mm… Milkmaid, k– kinda,” stammers Hiro, licking up what she can.
“Yeah. All you. Everything from your body’s beautiful. It’s all you.”
“Ryo-san,” she exhales on pulling away, gliding her tongue across her lips, somewhat satiated for now. “You don’t need to arouse me again so quick. I finished onto your mouth… like… three minutes ago.” I think.
Ryoga scoffs, pressing a tender kiss onto Mahiro’s neck. “Can’t I compliment my girl for the hell of it?”
Hiro settles with a pout, scrunching her face further as Ryo-san pecks and pinches at her puffed-up cheeks. God knows if there’s any lipstick left to get on them; she’d rather not ask.
“How do you feel now, Hiro? I’ll get you something to drink, your throat’s probably parched. The toilet’s all yours if you need a quick break.”
“Mmh, not now. I’m much better… Rested. I’m ready again, I think.”
“Ha! We’ll go real slow, don’t worry. Hang on,” calls Ryoga as she clicks the door to the bathroom open.
There’s something off, but I can’t put my finger on it.
Mahiro hears the quick rush of a faucet, and a faint pumping sound. Thirty seconds. The faucet again.
It’s no major problem. Just some things being… different?
Ryoga shakes her hair as she re-enters. “Back! Hands all clean.”
“Welcome home,” mumbles the younger woman. Not wanting to move, yet starting to vegetate on her pillow throne.
“What’s wrong?” Ryoga’s eyebrows furrow as she rummages in the duffel bag on her desk. The one she carries to gym, it seems.
Mahiro sighs. “Should I walk around for a few seconds? I might rot here.”
“Ah, go ahead!” Ryoga rips open a plastic sachet, emptying the contents into the glass. “You can see what I’m mixing, if the packet scares you.”
“I only noticed it just as you said that,” grumbles Mahiro while tying a knot with the towel around her. She shifts off the bed, taking slow steps without straining her thighs.
There’s a pensive look on the taller woman. But then she turns to face the table.
“You getting up… I should keep that in mind now.” Water pours from a copper bottle, stopping seconds before hitting the brim of the glass. “I know that… you try to shift and move and experiment, wherever possible. Even when you don’t want to… change what makes you smile. The backdrop.”
Mahiro idly rubs circles onto her bra to coax the nipples to swell. A metal spoon clangs at rapid fire. “I experiment with the meals I cook. With my lyrics and compositions. With where I wanna take you after work, and on off-days.” Then two melodic taps on the rim.
“I know.”
“I like switching things up, Ryo-san. I’m not a picky toddler,” says Mahiro. Ryoga places the bottle back on the shelf, and the spoon into the covered basket for used utensils. “So don’t be afraid… to make me falter. I wanna find new ways for pleasure too.”
“Understood. I’ll try,” Ryoga sighs. She holds out the glass, propping up the sachet for display in her other hand. “Electrolytes!”
“Thank you, Ryo-san.” Mahiro feels her cheeks curving up, fingers momentarily lacing in between Ryoga’s as she takes the glass for a sip.
“Mm…! Coconut!” The water’s slightly chilled by the copper insulation. It flows down her throat well and smooth. “It’s not oversweet… and it clears my head well!”
Ryoga’s eyes crinkle into crescents as she grins. “That’s my go-to fix for work-outs lately. Glad it helps~”
“Won’t you drink anything before we…?”
“Nah, party had me knocked the fuck out.” She briefly raises an eyebrow. “I’ll just focus on one meal for the rest of tonight.”
The knot around Mahiro’s waist feels too loose, ready to undo like a shoelace and reveal herself bare and hungry all over again.
She faintly scoffs, biting her lip. “How are you feeling though, Ryo-san? After… the starters?”
Wait. I got what’s different.
Ryoga takes a deep breath, in and out, running a hand through her hair.
She still has most of her clothes on. Does she not feel itchy after everything?
“I felt rejuvenated, honestly,” she smirks. “I feel great. Good enough to continue. I won’t go into detail yet.”
“Eh…”
Will I get to see her more…
She gulps down the rest of the coconut, and Ryoga promptly takes the glass to place it where the spoon went.
“I’ll deal with that tomorrow morning,” the older woman mutters into the air.
“Mm…” Mahiro’s bra starts to cling to her skin. Not in the sleek manner in which Ryoga’s red top or leggings shape her muscular frame. But in a way that’s plain annoying, a hindrance. She’ll catch a cold tomorrow at this rate.
“Hiro. I hope you’re ready to continue now.”
She nods wordlessly, eyes big and alert.
Ryoga moves to retrieve the only towel remaining on the bedside table, flattening it onto the middle of the bed, shifting the stack of pillows to sit adjacent to it.
“So, that was the main thing you’re familiar with. You’ve never done anything beyond, am I right?”
“Yeah. Just that one.” Mahiro sighs, and collects herself in one go. “Ryo-san, I’m sorry for keeping quiet.”
“Hah? What for?” With her foot, Ryoga arranges the dirtier clothes on the floor into organised lumps. She transfers Mahiro’s jacket to the hanger on the door, picking up her own turtleneck to toss it into the laundry bag.
“I’ve only been taking without giving. Before just now, I didn’t make time to check up on you, to ask if you were okay with holding my legs up for so long, if there’s any way I could help you… I was instead… preoccupied with what you thought about me, what you saw and tasted, whether… whether I’m doing well.”
Ryoga chuckles, leaning against the bedside table again. Her eyes curve up again, a dimple surfacing. It’s the prettiest she’s ever been.
“Hiro. My love… My soul.”
“I… It was inconsiderate of me! I should be looking out for you!”
“Haven’t you realised how awfully horny you were before this? It’s a hazy, thick condition to deal with, it’s supposed to cloud some of your cognition and enhance the rest.”
Mahiro frowns.
“You told me you wanted to feel good, to be touched where you wanted it. You meant it,” adds Ryoga, stretching and flexing her arms, popping the air out of them. “This was me wanting to pleasure you. My treat. So save your sweat for what we’ll do next. And don’t worry about how I feel. Got me?”
“Fine. I’ll still ask you when I can.”
“You do that.” Ryoga rolls her eyes. “We’ll now do something new for you. Up for it?”
“Will I get to have at yours?” Mahiro breathes in one go.
The eyes have shifted to that state.
“I think you’ll need to anyhow.” Ryoga draws in a breath, shifting her thighs against one another, hips moving back and forth.
I wonder if eating me out had her wet. If I can make her wetter.
“Can I take the lights to the dimmest? And turn the aircon off?” Mahiro’ll toggle with the house system accordingly.
“Do that,” exhales Ryoga, the wet pop from her mouth audible across the room. “I’ll do good with some proper heat.”
The yellow overhead light, that had grown too bright with prolonged exposure, gives way for a deeper, dimmer orange. Ryoga readies a container on the edge of the bed.
Mahiro undoes the knot and leaves the towel on the hanger, breathing in newfound air.