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They’re in the middle of comparing notes on the daily sparring session with the first years, working through refinement on counters to face strikes when Satoru suggested, “You should hit me.”
Suguru raised an eyebrow at her. “I already did, got you good on the chin today.”
“No, I mean in other circumstances.” Satoru waggled her eyebrows, the only thing visible above her shades.
“I’m sure I can hit you whenever I want, especially whenever you deserve it.”
“Ladies, we’re right here,” Shoko reminded them. “Not in front of the kids.”
“But Gojo can use Infinity, right?” Haibara asked, completely oblivious to the innuendo. “It’s pretty hard to even get close to Gojo.” He was still reeling from getting completely bodied when Satoru, bored out of her mind, took him for a round to spar with a five point handicap, but a slightly better sight than the prior week when he couldn’t even get up after Suguru gave him an exhibition.
“That is not what Gojo is referring to,” Nanami warned.
“I’m awesome like that,” Satoru played along. “I’ve been working with Suguru for so long, you could say she knows me a little too well.”
“Well, Getou is also really good at close combat, it’s pretty amazing to watch you two.” Suguru had to give it to Haibara, he spoke with an actual tone of enthusiasm, wearing his passion on his face, the complete opposite of Nanami’s dry deadpan.
“There’s other stuff we’re really good at too—”
“Satoru,” Suguru interrupted. “I’m going to get a drink.” She got up to leave, clapping her notebook closed.
“Get me some cigarettes,” Shoko reminded her, a not so subtle reminder of you owe me as she picked up the conversation with Haibara.
Suguru nodded; she knew the kind Shoko preferred. Satoru followed her to the vending machines, skipping along.
“I want Pocari,” Satoru decided in front of the drink display as Suguru secured Shoko’s order.
Suguru fed the coins in, sufficient for one bottle, and handed it to Satoru. “What was that?”
“Exactly what I said,” Satoru responded. She twisted off the cap, and chugged half the bottle in one go, tipping her head back so the long pale column of her throat was visible, pulsing with every swallow. Objectively, it was a very nice throat. Satoru wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and handed the bottle over to Suguru. “You want the rest?”
Suguru grabbed the bottle absently, still turning over Satoru’s request. “You want me to hit you?”
Satoru nodded. “We already do it in practice. But, I think it would be much more fun if we did it—”
“Satoru, we’re still in public.” To be more accurate, they were still standing by the vending machines, and anyone could be walking by.
“No one’s in earshot.”
“Okay.” Suguru surveyed the surroundings and sighed, resigned to her fate. She gave it some thought, and then asked, “When you say I should hit you, do you mean slapping your face?”
Satoru nodded, her breathing hitching ever so slightly. Interesting. Suguru could not say that the prospect didn’t appeal to her, and what Satoru said was true: it was practically an extension of what they did on a regular basis, sans Infinity.
“Anywhere else? Tits? Thighs?”
Satoru worried at her lower lip, a sure sign of interest. “Yes to both. And ass.”
“You want to be spanked.” A statement, not a question.
“Is my ass not to your liking?”
“Too scrawny,” Suguru mocked, to which Satoru replied with double middle fingers, and then continued, “How hard?” Satoru liked rough and thrived on combative resistance, but the physiology and psychology of a scene was different, the sensory receptors primed for very different expectations compared to actual combat. Suguru had a suspicion that it was a question of hitting hard enough if that was what Satoru was primed for.
“I’ll tell you if it’s not enough,” Satoru responded. “No point in holding back.”
“We’re still safewording,” Suguru reminded her.
“I’m good with that.”
“Okay, how do you want me to hit you?”
“Open palm. Maybe a switch,” Satoru contemplated. “Although any real equipment would need to be reinforced with cursed energy.” A fair point; Suguru did not want to be stuck explaining how they turned a switch into a cursed object, among other things.
“We can start with hands.”
“Excellent!” Satoru rubbed her hands together in delight. “I do love your hands. And fingers.”
Suguru did not take the bait. Instead, she asked, “What about Infinity?”
Satoru pouted. “I won’t consciously use it.”
“If you unconsciously use it—”
“I won’t,” Satoru interrupted, shooting a glare over the edge of her shades. “I have better control than that. You know I’m good for it.”
Satoru’s conviction and confidence in her own skills was unquestionable, even when her experimental techniques ended in failure. The only real hazard, Suguru supposed, was letting her get ahead of herself. “We’re going to take it slow,” Suguru offered as a concession, “so you don’t push to overdo it.”
“Fine, fine,” Satoru accepted. “You drive.”
Satisfied, Suguru polished off the rest of the bottle as Satoru watched, tossing it into the recycling. This time they managed to make their way back before Shoko came looking for her cigarettes, and just in time to catch the trailing end of a conversation where Nanami was instructing Haibara, “...and don’t feel compelled to listen to Gojo, eighty percent of the time what she tells you doesn’t work for most of the population.”
“Making progress,” Satoru observed, “he’s increasing my chance of success.”
Suguru snorted and resisted the urge to flick at her forehead. “Don’t let that get to your head.”
Suguru would be lying if she said she didn’t think about it. She knew what she liked, and there was never a question of what Satoru liked, because Satoru made her preferences about as loud and clear as an airhorn. The thing was, there was a necessary element of unpredictability — once the negotiations were done and the terms were agreed upon, Satoru preferred to leave it to Suguru to execute, partially because Satoru was insufferably lazy, and partially because Satoru’s internal speedometer was set to max at all times, and there were no built in brakes.
Planning was something Suguru could do, and she found certain satisfaction in implementing a plan. They had to wait until the dorms were mostly empty because Suguru did not trust Satoru to be quiet. The opportunity kept slipping past them: a late night by themselves, back from a mission where they both were too tired to do anything but strip off the soiled uniforms, shower, and crawl into bed; a lazy morning when the first years were sent on a mission, but then Yaga found them and made them finish up the testing they had missed for three straight weeks; an early afternoon where Shoko was still at the lab and the first years were supposed to be working on their practicals at the track, until Haibara showed up, having forgotten his gym bag, and still either oblivious or unperturbable, or both.
Finally, after what seemed like forever (in actuality a week later), they found themselves blissfully unattended in the late weekend afternoon, so Satoru shoved Suguru into her room and managed the feat of locking the door with Suguru still pressed up against it, one leg hiked up to bracket Suguru’s hip and inviting her hand to grope at the expanse of her ass and the silky skin above her thigh-highs, fingers slipping under the fabric of Satoru’s shorts. This was an experimental phase that Suguru was particularly torn about, because the discovery of the strip of skin between where Satoru’s shorts ended and the stockings began, in combination with the long expanse of her legs, was an absolute fatality and Satoru knew it. Suguru blamed Shoko for encouraging that combination.
“We should move,” Suguru suggested when Satoru had her mouth on her neck, breathing hotly and working on raising a hickey. Satoru wrapped both of her legs around her waist, and Suguru took that as the signal to lift Satoru up in her arms, walk away from the door, and deposit her on the bed. “What do you want?”
Satoru was already stripping, shades tossed and clothes puddled on the ground. She had been wearing a bra, a white, lacy thing that Suguru had witnessed her buying on a whim, the kind where the dusky shadows of her nipples were entirely visible, and coverage and support were not the objectives, but that too joined the discard pile. Suguru didn’t have to guess that the panties matched. “What we discussed.”
“We discussed a lot of things,” Suguru reminded her. She unbuttoned her jacket and draped it over the chair. “Clarify.”
“You, hitting me,” Satoru looked at her with limpid eyes, tilting coyly. “I love it when you use that dom voice on me.”
Suguru rolled her eyes, a little annoyed that she hadn't intended to harden her voice. “Anything else?”
“Well,” Satoru paused in the act of undress, giving it a moment of thought before resuming. “I do want you to fuck me. And as always, I want to eat you out. Order of operations is up to you. Does that work?”
Suguru slipped off her shirt, letting her gaze linger on Satoru. “Yes,” she confirmed. “Yes it does.”
Satoru had cleared off the bed by the time Suguru finished undressing and preparing, the mess shoved to one side and spilling over onto her desk. They were still experimenting with the strap collection, so Suguru picked a semi-realistic looking one, with the kind of girth that Satoru seemed to have a preference for, not obscenely long.
Suguru found Satoru watching her fiddle with the harness, her eyes lidded and heavy, a red flash of tongue as she licked her lips. If she were the type to drool without something in her mouth, she probably would have. Suguru knew of other ways to make Satoru drool.
Suguru had surveyed the space in the room, and determined it was sufficient for what she planned. She was a couple meters from the bed, standing in an open space. “Come here,” she beckoned with a crook of her finger.
Satoru strutted over, an air of anticipation about her. “Well?” Satoru asked.
Suguru reached out, digging into Satoru’s hair, fingers close to the scalp, and wrenched her down. Satoru’s eyes shuttered closed, mouth parted in a moan, her head unconsciously moving along and exposing the tendons of her neck as her knees hit the ground, only the slightest hint of her usual resistance.
Suguru maintained pressure on her scalp, eliciting another gasp. “Suck,” Suguru instructed.
Satoru managed to level a pseudo-glare at the strap in front of her. “Why should I?” Satoru pushed back against her hand. “It’s not like you can actually feel it.”
“I want to see my cock in your mouth,” Suguru explained with a level voice.
“I like other things of yours in my mouth—”
Suguru slapped her across the face. The angle wasn’t great, catching slightly higher than she wanted, but the look of surprise, and then morphing into hunger on Satoru’s face went straight down her spine, coiling heavy and heated in her gut. Satoru straightened, squaring her shoulders, and then declared, “Still don’t feel like it.”
Suguru backhanded her with enough force to cause Satoru to turn her head involuntarily, low enough that it should have pressed the soft inside of her cheek against teeth. The skin flushed.
“Weak,” Satoru derided after a beat, sounding bored on her knees. “Put some effort into it at least.”
Yes, Suguru decided, she could see how this was going to play out, letting the slow embers build in the pit of her belly. Satoru wanted to be compelled into submission.
Suguru dug in her fingers and hauled Satoru by the hair back up to her feet; Satoru moaned all the way up, a sweet mezzo-piano tone against her ear. “Is this how you like it?”
“Yes,” Satoru nodded.
“Hands behind your head, elbows up, legs apart.” Suguru stepped back and waited as Satoru positioned herself, feet planted beyond shoulder width apart, arms folded into triangles, torso pushed out, and her tits on display and easily accessible. Suguru let her gaze linger, trailing over the tapering long lines and curves forming a statuesque profile rendered from mutton fat jade. “Can you hold this position and not move?”
Satoru snorted in ridicule. “Nothing hard about it.”
Suguru cupped one breast in her right hand, squeezing firmly, circling the pad of her thumb over the nipple. Her left hand traced Satoru’s iliac crest, her fingers dappling down the juncture of hip and thigh, gravity pulling her down until she could almost cup her pubis, Satoru’s heat radiating against her palm. She let her fingers ghost side to side against the soft skin of the inner thighs, listening for the change in breathing, the tell of anticipation.
“Suguru, you better be touching me—”
Suguru released her right hand and struck quickly, an open palm, against Satoru’s breast, aiming for the unprotected swell just under the armpit, more force than what she had previously utilized. The sound was satisfying, fleshy and solid, a rare occurrence for Satoru who could have, would have been protected from harm if so she chose.
“Shit!” Satoru yelped, her hips bucking in surprise. Still, her arms stayed up, resisting the urge to collapse and protect herself. “What was that?”
“Me touching you.” Suguru struck again with her other hand, alternating sides. Satoru’s tits bounced from the impact, the lines of her abs clenching as she focused on keeping the position.
“Fuck!” Satoru’s tits bloomed pink, flushing prettily at the sides where she was struck, a slight heave as she inhaled. “I’d rather take it to the face.”
“Wouldn’t want to bruise your face,” Suguru explained. She caressed Satoru’s breasts, massaging for blood flow. “The rest of your body, we’ll just have to be mindful so people don’t see too much.” She leaned close, sharing breaths. “Can you be good?”
“Maybe,” Satoru acknowledged, a lazy roll of her head against her hands, a sideways glance, the sky blue of her eyes vivid even in the fractional view. “What do I get for it?”
“This.” Suguru’s palm struck against the inside of one breast, and then the other, calibrating the intensity so she could feel the impact against her hand radiating up to her elbow. Satoru’s shout caught in her throat when Suguru hit again, and again. Suguru worked over the flesh of her tits, increasing in intensity with every slap; if Suguru had to guess, she was at about sixty percent of her actual strength. After the initial yelps, Satoru was acclimating, bowing ever so slightly at each subsequent strike, her breathing leveling.
Perhaps it was time to escalate.
Sensing her pause, Satoru nagged between ragged breaths, “Come on, keep going, I can take more.”
Suguru shifted, circling around behind her. “Really?”
“I’m just warming up—ah.”
Suguru reached between her legs and ran two fingers along Satoru’s folds. “I see what you mean. You’re quite wet.”
“I could be more wet,” Satoru responded, shifting her hips back to give better access to Suguru’s fingers. “If you would just—”
Suguru struck the back of her thigh, aiming right below the buttocks, centering the hit with a cupped palm so the crack of air was louder.
“Motherfucker!” Satoru exhaled, overlapping fingers clenching behind her head. She was still holding form, elbows up and legs apart, knees slightly bent, shuddering ever so slightly when Suguru followed up with a slow caress, tracing the reddening skin up to her ass. The pace was fair, the anticipation of the next strike offset by the deliberate gentle touch; she’ll have to vary it further to keep Satoru guessing.
“Remember,” Suguru warned, “be good and don’t move.”
That was the only warning she gave before starting. Suguru laid into the high, firm flesh of Satoru’s ass, spanking solidly and alternating sides, letting the sounds of impact hang in the air with Satoru’s choked out noises, the run of her backside flexed beautifully, the skin blooming riotously and fever-hot to the touch. Approximately eighty percent strength at this point, enough that Satoru gave up on expletives, too focused on overriding the natural urge to shy away from impact with the desire to offer herself up, to maintain the presentation Suguru asked for. Suguru took note, shaking out her hand.
“Color?” Suguru checked in, circling back to Satoru’s front. Satoru’s shoulders rose and sank as she leveled her breathing pattern, her eyes returning to clarity at her question.
“Green goddamnit,” Satoru hissed. A hint of desperation bled through when she demanded, “Finish what you started.”
“Are you begging?” Suguru let herself smile in satisfaction as she rolled the weight of Satoru’s breasts about her fingers, scraping nails at the tender skin of the underside of her tits as Satoru nodded and gasped, sensitive from the earlier impact. Deciding to be merciful, Suguru pinched a nipple between thumb and index finger, leaning over to close her lips around the nipple, grazed with her teeth until Satoru let out a cry, and then laved the tip with her tongue. Satoru tasted of the salt of perspiration, and the faintest hint of ozone.
“You’ve been good so far,” Suguru told her, pulling her mouth off with a pop. “Almost there. Posture. Legs straight and knees apart.”
Satoru perked up and made the effort, inhaling breathily as Suguru folded one knee in front of her, running a hand against the indentations of Satoru’s obliques, and then down, down she glided to the juncture between her legs. Suguru knew what Satoru wanted, could feel the slick dripping, and deliberately ghosted the touch, smiling at Satoru’s growl. She leveled her face at Satoru’s cunt, two fingers splitting apart the folds to exhale moist and hot at her clit, and licked a single wet stripe.
Satoru bucked her hips, too little too late as Suguru pulled away and took the opportunity to slap at the tender skin at the inside of the thigh, just under the groin. Satoru howled and then clamped her mouth shut at the subsequent strikes scattering on both sides, elbows rigid as she fought to keep her arms up, her adductors clenching and shaking as she tried not to buckle her knees, tried not to shy away from Suguru’s broad hands, tried not to lose mastery of herself.
Suguru wondered if a switch would hurt more here; probably, a different kind of pain, thighs pried apart, thin red lines across the delicate skin. She could see why Satoru wanted to try it. Another time.
Satoru had squeezed her eyes shut through the final blow, a heavy exhale through her nose as if she didn’t trust her mouth to open, and then blinked when Suguru finally stopped, the glitter of moisture dotting her eyelashes refracting the color of the sky in her iris.
“That’s a good girl, good job,” Suguru reassured her, nuzzling her face against Satoru’s belly, letting the heat of her palm rest still and heavy against Satoru’s skin as Satoru caught her breath, the tight clench of every muscle slowly relaxing. “Now, let’s see how you’re doing.”
Satoru groaned when Suguru finally slipped one finger and then another into the slick folds with little resistance. She probably could do three, or maybe even four with a little more effort, but that wasn’t the point. Suguru crooked her fingers and rubbed the heel of her palm against Satoru’s clit, watching Satoru’s face melt at the sensation, a sharp contrast to moments ago. That always stoked her desire, to be able to hold in her hands the keys to Satoru’s pleasure.
“You’re so wet,” Suguru marveled. “Did you come already?”
“No thanks to you,” Satoru retorted, gyrating against Suguru’s hand. “Fuck, I was so close. Come on, haven’t I earned it?”
Suguru laughed, just a little mean. “I don’t know, have you? You’ll have to tell me how you earned it.” She let her hand work against Satoru as she stood up and used the other to draw Satoru in for a kiss, feather soft on the lips at the start, intensifying like a wildfire as Satoru opened up for more, a velveteen slide of tongue against her own. Satoru tasted of cloying sweetness and greedy need, pulsing against her hand, exhaling against her ear.
“Where are those words?” Suguru reminded her. “You love to talk.”
“Let’s just fuck, I can come and talk at the same time,” Satoru suggested raggedly when Suguru continued to grind her palm.
“Really? We’ll have to test that one out.” Suguru pulled out her fingers and gave a slow lick, the tang of Satoru’s arousal sweeping across her tongue. Satoru watched with hungry eyes. “Want a taste?”
Satoru’s crystalline eyes tracked her hand, a near unconscious forward jerk of her head as her mouth parted to accept her fingers, tonguing wet and messy as moans spilled out. She made a sound of dismay when Suguru pulled out, hushed by a finger over the lips. Suguru pulled her by the tits to the edge of the bed, Satoru wincing at the pressure on the sore tissue.
Suguru seated herself at the bed, and pushed Satoru down to kneel between her legs. Satoru dropped her arms, stretching out with a sigh of relief, and then cringed at the pressure of her heels digging into the inflamed skin right at the crease between buttock and thigh, shifting uncomfortably. “We’re going to try this again,” Suguru intoned. “Suck. If I like what I see, you’ll get it in your pussy.”
There was no whining this time as Satoru accepted the terms, head bobbing as she took in the head of the silicone cock in her mouth. It was true, there was no particular sensory feedback from the dick itself, but the visual of Satoru kneeling between her legs, cheeks hollowing, lips wrapped tight, mouth full, and eyes bright— well, Suguru was only mortal after all, and mortal desires were weak to the premise of subjugating a force of nature like Satoru. It made Suguru painfully aware of the way the harness dug into her skin and hips, the dull tremors against her pubis, and the deep-seated hollowness between her legs aching for something more.
Suguru could establish a decent rhythm, enough of a fucking motion to work Satoru’s mouth, varying enough to keep Satoru guessing, occasionally popping out of the wet suction to trace the cockhead on her lips as saliva ran down the edges of her mouth, sometimes driving in deep enough to trigger physiological tears as Satoru’s gag reflex kicked in. Satoru could work around it, probably had some deep seated need to master herself to that extent, but Suguru didn’t feel the need to push today.
“How do you want it?” Suguru asked, stilling her hips. “On your back? Or your front?”
Satoru pulled off, a shimmering thread of saliva between her lips and the strap as her eyes gleamed. “I want to ride.”
Suguru sat back and curled her hands around Satoru’s hips as Satoru climbed onto her lap, bracketing her with those long legs, one hand braced on Suguru’s shoulder as the other reached to position the strap. Suguru couldn’t remember exactly when, but at some point Satoru had grown taller, enough that even as Satoru sank all the way down on her dick with a sweet sigh, Suguru had to look up, just a little, to watch her face and the celestial sky of her eyes.
“No.” Suguru shook her head when Satoru tried to touch herself, pinning her wrist in hand. Satoru’s eyes glazed over slightly, as if she liked it when Suguru decided for her. “You come on just my cock.”
“That’s mean,” Satoru accused, just a little shrill, but didn’t try to shake loose. She set a sustainable pace, the swell of her tits rolling as she dropped down to impale herself and the subsequent apex bringing the flex of her quadriceps into sharp relief. “Why are you— uh— so mean.”
“You said you could talk and come at the same time,” Suguru reminded her. “And you don’t like nice.”
Every rise and fall of Satoru’s hips was accompanied by a grunt, a grind, a groan, and a gathered breath, Suguru thrusting up to match in counterpoint, pushing as far Satoru could take. Suguru could feel herself responding, the hollow ache growing wet and warm as the base of the strap ground against her clit everytime Satoru slammed down.
“Come on, fuck, I need it,” Satoru whined as she bounced. “I need to come so bad— ah— I’ve been good for you— ah— so good.” Her pace was quickening, growing shallow, curled over Suguru, their tits rubbing together as Satoru hooked her hands over Suguru’s shoulders, panting against her ear. “It hurts, fuck, I’ve never tried riding when it hurts like this.”
Suguru dipped her mouth against Satoru’s neck, sucking at the tendon, hips still working as Satoru faltered. Satoru’s thighs must have been burning from the exertion, her skin still tender. “You don’t like it?”
“N-No,” Satoru stuttered. “It’s g-good, just— ah— hurts like a bitch.”
“Yes, that was the point,” Suguru murmured along her neck, looking for the spot that drove Satoru crazy. “You wanted it. Keep going.”
Satoru laughed weakly, desperately dropping and grinding down to find friction, short abortive jerks of her hips rubbing against Suguru’s thighs sure to cause a mess of signals, mixing superficial pain and the pleasure of being fucked. “Fuck you, you want to hear me talk? You know I’ll take anything of yours, your tongue, your fingers, your hand, your cock, just get it in me, I’ll be good for you, just you— ah— just use me, make use of me, make me work for it, make me take it— ah— make me the reason you come, the reason you want this, the reason you like this— oh fuck, you like this don’t you, you like it when I’m wrapped around your finger, your cock, you love it when I’m coming because you wanted it— shit I’m close—you love it when I’m coming because it gets you going, because you know I love everything you do to me, I love everything about y—“
Suguru couldn’t bear to listen anymore, and pulled Satoru in by the hair, kissing bruisingly hard, the other hand gripping at Satoru’s hip and holding her in place as she pistoned her hips and Satoru had nowhere to go so she could only take it, moaning into Suguru’s mouth as her words slurred, shaking apart on Suguru’s lap as she came.
When their lips parted, Satoru was still gasping and flushed, a sheen of perspiration across her forehead matting down the fringe of her hair, swollen lips glossy with spit, her eyes soft and carrying a fucked out glow to match the rest of her face. Suguru felt a sense of satisfaction, a bit of smugness maybe, and not a small amount of pride at being responsible for it.
“Ow,” Satoru then said, moving gingerly while still planted on the strap. “I think I pulled a muscle.”
“You idiot,” Suguru said affectionately, letting it drape over them like a warm cloak, “what do you need?”
“Just—” Satoru shifted up, climbing off with slightly less mobility than usual, her core a little stiff. “I’m good— okay, yeah, maybe flexed a little too hard, but I’ll be fine.”
“Was it that good?” Suguru let some of that smugness into her tone, settling back on her palms.
Satoru stretched catlike with a knee against the bed, a smooth rolling undulation of her spine from head to hip as she worked out the kinks. “Considering I came hard enough to almost pull a muscle, yes.” She pressed flush against Suguru. “How about you? Did you come?” She pawed at the harness, not waiting for a response as she crawled between her legs, asking, “Can I eat you out?” And then continued languidly, “I was thinking about it the whole time you made me suck your cock.”
It was a rhetorical question: Suguru lifted her hips to slide the harness down, tossing it aside. She made space for Satoru to nestle between her thighs, hooking her knees over Satoru’s shoulders and shifting some weight to her hands. “Since you asked so nicely.”
Satoru rubbed a cheek along her inner thigh, her face coming away shiny with sweat and slick; Satoru took a greedy inhale as she nosed at her folds, and then she went to work, licking wide wet stripes from bottom to top, alternating between soft, lavish attention to her clit and stiffening her tongue to slide inside her pussy, mouthing and sucking at the tender skin of her inner thighs to take the edge off whenever Suguru tensed up too much.
Satoru excelled at whatever she wanted to succeed at, and had quickly learned the patterns that worked for Suguru, varying intensity and rhythm, tuned to the tightening of Suguru’s muscles, coaxing the whorl of desire dropping down her spine, coalescing in her gut, holding it like a note sustained. Suguru could feel Satoru smiling around her, the heavy gaze of her eyes as she looked up to watch Suguru’s face, her mouth sucking gently on Suguru’s clit. Satoru had the endurance to be a marathon pussy-eater, and as much as Suguru liked the idea in principle, in practice she could feel herself rapidly unspooling, spilling into the endless fractals of Satoru’s eyes. Suguru had been riding the edge of arousal for too long, and was growing impatient.
“Finger me,” Suguru commanded as the need started to incinerate her from the inside. She pressed Satoru’s face between her thighs, like riding a horse, ankles crossing at her back. She could take two fingers easily, relaxed and lubricated. “More,” Suguru demanded; they were up to three now, a stretch and delicious ache from the pump of Satoru’s fingers in counterpoint to Satoru’s licks. “Make me come, I know you can do it.” Satoru took it as a challenge, as Suguru knew she would, dialing up the intensity, lapping and sucking, nosing at the thatch of hair as she teased out the peak of her desire. Suguru felt herself panting in response, drinking in the sensory intake, clenching down around Satoru’s tongue and fingers as she crested, a soft ah ah ah dripping at the edge of her lips as she came.
Satoru stayed between her legs, licking softly as she came down from the orgasm, until Suguru was twitching from oversensitivity, sharp involuntary jerks of her legs. Suguru pulled away and hauled her up. Satoru was bright eyed and blissed out, her face sweaty and ruddy, her lips swollen, her lower jaw dripping wet, and her hair a matted, tangled mess; Satoru had never been more gorgeous than in that moment, and Suguru felt unbearably fond, dragged by the undertow of desire into a sea of contentment where time had slowed syrupy-sweet, and it was just the two of them, floating together.
They fell sideways on the long axis of the bed, slotted together in the narrow space as they kissed, intense and slow, Suguru taking her time to feel every incremental shift of their bodies, the rub of skin on skin, the weight of Satoru’s legs twined between her own, the ridges and valleys of their interlaced fingers, the drumbeat of their syncopated pulses, the soft sighs and groans as she explored every crevice of Satoru’s mouth, until she could barely tell where one ended and the other started. They had the time to do what they wanted, and right now this was what they both wanted.
When she opened her eyes again, the blot of sky through the window was an ink stain; at some point, they must have fallen asleep. Satoru was still pressed up against her, the pale expanse of her shoulders at her eye line. She barely reacted when Suguru experimentally shifted, as if she had settled into a deep slumber, a rare occurrence in Suguru’s experience; Satoru tended to wake at a moment’s notice, a hair trigger level of sensitivity due to the Six Eyes, useful when they were out in the field, but an immense strain on Satoru.
Their list of tasks ran long and overdue, but they had time. So, Suguru stayed still and let Satoru sleep, taking the opportunity to commit all the details to memory: the softened line of her shoulders naturally at rest, the rise and fall of her collarbones and the heave of her chest with every breath, the instinctive curve of her lips perhaps reacting to a dream, the twitch of her eyelids and her white lashes quivering, and so much more. This did not feel like time wasted.
“Ugh,” Satoru groaned when she finally roused, blinking sleepily. “What time is it?”
“Late enough,” Suguru offered up.
“I’m starving.” Satoru stretched, and then poked at herself. “Shit, that still hurts. It’s actually worse.”
“Endorphins should be out of your system now,” Suguru explained. “We should take care of that.”
“Food first.” Satoru sat up, looking around for her clothes. “How long have you been waiting for me?”
Suguru shrugged. “Dunno. Lost track of time.” She rolled over and grabbed the discarded remains of Satoru’s clothes from the floor. “Get dressed and go clean up. I have cream in my room. Shoko will kill us if we ask her to heal this.”
They made it out of Satoru’s room and down the hallway undetected, the sound of the first years setting something up in the communal kitchen as the smell of dashi wafted through the air. By the time they made it into the girls’ bathroom, Shoko was at the sink, washing her hands.
“Haibara’s setting up for sukiyaki,” Shoko told them, looking at them from the mirror. “You’re joining us right?”
Ah, yes, it was sukiyaki night, where they could crowd around the hot pot, soaking in the fragrant steam, and fight over who got the last bits of caramelized beef and simmered tofu while Haibara mixed more egg dipping sauce. Satoru always wanted more sugar in the broth and her complaints were, of course, ignored.
“Of course,” Suguru responded. “We’ll be right there.”
They ran late, but that was fine. They had plenty of time.