Work Text:
The lighting in the changing room is soft and warm from the backlighting of the mirror. It reminds Kenma of her bedside night light — dragging down her eyelids like a weight. Kenma yawns, feeling sleepier the longer she sits. She wants to be in bed, she thinks, hugging both her and Akaashi’s winter coats tighter as Akaashi shuffles out of her work heels and re-arranges the items she’s going to try on.
“How many things did you pick out?”
“Not that many,” Akaashi says defensively.
“Then can you get started already?”
“Why are you in a rush? It’s not like you’re doing anything other than falling asleep under the kotatsu after this.” Kenma scowls in annoyance, because that was what she planned to do but Akaashi has gone and ruined her afternoon. By the time this is done, she won’t have time to take a short nap before she dives into her classwork that’s due at midnight.
Kenma agreed to go to lunch, not an unexpected shopping spree. But it’s fine, she thinks, watching Akaashi pull off her soft, beige sweater, her back shifting attractively. Her bra is lacy and pretty and Kenma stares blatantly at her tits to soothe her temper over her lost nap. She keeps watching as Akaashi carefully folds up her sweater and places it on the seat next to Kenma, her breasts briefly taking up her entire line of sight. Kenma sighs, annoyed with herself for letting Akaashi’s hotness take over her brain.
Akaashi pulls on a pastel blue button down that’s boring and pairs it with a brown tweed skirt that’s also boring. Kenma’s just glad she never has to wear office clothes herself if the selection is always this stale. Akaashi seems satisfied with how dull her outfit is, giving herself a little nod in the mirror, and tries on the next skirt with a soft cashmere sweater.
This skirt clearly barely fits Akaashi as she struggles to pull it up over her thighs. She manages to zip it up at the side, but no amount of tugging at the hem can hide how tight and short the pencil skirt is. Kenma raises her brow, watching as Akaashi contemplates over it, clearly liking something about it, even though it’s way too inappropriate for an office. Is Akaashi aware of this, or is she planning on surprising Bokuto with some sort of lame, slutty office worker roleplay later?
“Your pantyline is showing,” Kenma says flatly, setting the jackets lumped on her lap aside and stands up to come to Akaashi’s side. She studies Akaashi in the mirror, watching as Akaashi thinks for a moment before she pulls down her panties — pink and sensible — and steps out of them neatly.
“What about now?” She spins on her heel to look at herself from the side. Though the pantylines are gone—
“It’s too short for work, no?” Kenma asks, leaning against Akaashi’s back. She tucks her face against the cashmere sweater, smirking slowly as she traces her fingertips lightly up the back of Akaashi’s thigh. Shopping is boring, so the least Kenma can do is have a little fun. “Or was that your goal?” Akaashi gasps quietly when Kenma’s fingers slide up further, brushing against the crease of her cheeks. “You bend over just a little and everyone could see,” Kenma continues, stroking lightly once, twice before she parts her cheeks and sinks her fingers into Akaashi’s cunt.
Akaashi gasps again, turning to glare at Kenma. “C-cold!” she hisses. Kenma hums, ignoring her to slip her other hand up her sweater and cup her tit through her bra, squeezing her with a satisfied hum. She loves Akaashi’s full, heavy breasts, how they look in clothes and out of them, too. “Kozume…,” Akaashi says weakly, glaring at her in the mirror.
From this angle, it’s hard to get very deep, but she can still feel the heat emanating from her as she works her way deeper until she can feel Akaashi twitching against her fingers.
“You’re already wet?” Kenma asks casually, teasing her fingers deeper. “Were you thinking about Bokuto and what she’d think about you in this skirt?” Kenma slips her hand out and pulls the skirt up and over the round of Akaashi’s ass. She takes two steps back to guide Akaashi’s hips back. “Hands on the mirror.” Akaashi tenses for a moment, catching her bottom lip between her teeth as Kenma pulls her apart with her free hand and sinks two fingers back in. She moans this time, rocking forward to catch herself on the mirror’s edge. Kenma’s grin widens.
Kenma keeps her strokes firm, pumping two fingers along her folds and watching the minute changes in Akaashi’s expression as she plays with her pussy. She uses the flat of her thumb to tease her lips, rubbing lightly until Akaashi’s hips jerk, trying to follow for more friction. She changes her pace, slides her hand forward, tapping lightly at Akaashi’s clit with her index finger. Akaashi doubles over and Kenma grins, rubbing quick circles, humming as more of her slick juice gushes out, soaking her hand.
Kenma’s eyes flick back to the mirror, watching Akaashi’s parted mouth fogging up the glass. She’s trying to keep quiet, just releasing little choked-off throaty sounds that Kenma can barely hear over the pleasant j-pop playing over the speaker, but Kenma wants more. She stands on her tippy toes and presses her mouth to her ear, nipping at her lobe. “Be quiet. Or they’ll hear you.” Akaashi’s thighs tighten around Kenma’s arm and she tenses with a first short orgasm, her eyes squeezing shut as she trembles, hands clutching the mirror. It makes Kenma dizzy with power and she chuckles, amused when Akaashi’s face flushes redder, her gaze hazy when her eyes flicker open. “You’ll like that too much, so that’s why I’m not letting you.”
She pumps her fingers as deep as they can go, teasing her messy, wet folds before she focuses back on her clit again, rubbing her until Akaashi’s bucking against her hand. She moans — this time too loud, so Kenma pushes her hand into the sweater, twisting her fist into the material before she stuffs her hand into Akaashi’s mouth to let her bite down. Kenma keeps rubbing her through her whine, her own pussy twitching at the sight of Akaashi losing control — cheeks flushed, the skirt pulled up around her waist to reveal her pubes and lips glistening with her own juice. Kenma splits her apart for a moment to see how red she’s gotten on the inside, showing her off. Their eyes meet in the mirror and Kenma smirks again, splitting her fingers on each side of her clit to jerk her off until Akaashi bites harder on her sweater-covered fist.
All it takes is Kenma’s deft fingers playing along her swollen clit for a few more seconds before Akaashi tenses and she squirts all over the mirror, her voice breaking into a keening moan as she comes. Akaashi’s knees almost buckle. She sends the both of them forward, knocking the stand into the cubicle wall with a thud.
“Excuse me, is everything alright in there?” an attendant asks from outside the door.
“Yes, we’re fine,” Kenma says easily, even though her heart’s pounding, still holding Akaashi tight against her. They take a moment to catch their breath before Kenma bursts into laughter. Akaashi recovers quickly, yanking Kenma’s hands away and turning on her heel to glare.
“Are you going to clean that up?” Kenma says, nodding to the cum dripping down the mirror. “You made a mess.”
“Me? This was your fault,” Akaashi hisses at her, face still flushed and a little sweaty.
In the end, Akaashi uses an entire packet of tissues from her purse to clean it up and buys the sweater and pencil skirt out of sheer embarrassment.