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“Were you trying out a new attack earlier?” Dazai asks, but she isn’t exactly awaiting a response. After all, her conversation partner’s mouth is rather occupied at the moment. She continues, “It’s rather innovative. An excellent distraction, to say the least.”
Blue eyes glare at her with enough fury that’s unable to be diluted by the watery tinge in her eyes. Stubborn to the very end. It’s what makes her so infuriating to deal with. So interesting to play with, too.
Dazai can’t help but reach out to touch the loop of bandages that’s now dark with the other’s drool. It’s an excellent use of her accessories, really. She rubs the other’s lips even as Chuuya does her best to bite her through the makeshift gag. Her form of resistance now that her wrists are bound together in her back.
“Why are you mad at me, Chuuya?” A wondering tone. She digs her thumb against the swell of that bottom lip. “I should be the one who’s mad, you know? Since you’re attacking everyone by smiling at them so happily, stretching and showing off your body too…”
She drops her hand so she could instead squeeze the other’s chest. Even if she uses both her hands, it wouldn’t be enough to grasp the other completely. As she’s thought: infuriating.
Despite the gag, Chuuya still manages to send out several feral growls, her body thrashing against her. Not that it works. Power thrums all over that petite body, but she doesn’t use even half of it in order to really disentangle them. After all, she’s enough of a musclehead that she could definitely free her hands from the confines, but she elects not to.
As she’s thought, her chibi really does spoil her lots.
“Is it because of something so boring as not wanting to be caught fighting with someone during the tournament?” She wonders out loud, as she continues squeezing those breasts, testing the stretch of the other’s shirt. “Or you’re thinking that whatever I do, you can surely take?”
Inside this locker room, there’s only the two of them. In her mind, there’s only the two of them too. Nothing else matters. Not their teammates who are certainly wondering where their respective captains are. Not her parents who wish for their daughter to be in a school of their choosing so they can puppet her future. Not the separation that has placed them on opposite ends.
She locked the door before sneaking inside this place, of course. But that doesn’t stop her from slowly musing, “I wonder what would happen if your darling teammates walk in on us, ne?” She resumes what she’s been doing earlier. Her knees are a bit sore from her position, but that mild discomfort is nothing compared to the way that she enjoys the sight of her bites on her partner’s inner thighs.
Volleyball shorts for women are so incredibly skimpy that it makes her seethe at the thought of Chuuya walking around in them, but they make things so much easier for her now that she can’t fully hate them. Her hands continue fondling the other’s ample chest while she buries her face between powerful thighs. Alternates between biting and licking at the skin there, leaving behind obvious marks. So that it’s her win either way.
Whether Chuuya defiantly wears these shorts to their next practice and shows off the marks—or if she decides to hide them and her skin, by consequence—it’s going to be Dazai’s victory.
Blue eyes full of spite. Dazai longs to hear her voice, because she certainly would have a lot of choice words for her. Knowing that Chuuya would bite her, she reaches up and unties the makeshift gag.
“…Ah, you bit me.”
“What the fuck did you expect, asshole?” Unlike the brash-but-big-hearted captain aura that she radiates while she’s surrounded by her adoring sheep, the Chuuya now is full of disdain, no masking the amount of irritation and rage that she feels. “Who the fuck ambushes the opposing captain right after the goddamn game?!”
She raises an eyebrow as she rubs her fingers together. The imprint of Chuuya’s teeth is left behind on her fingertips, along with sticky warmth. “Would you have preferred if I ambushed you at your school dorms?”
That idea warrants a second look. Chuuya lives in a single room, a privilege afforded by her captaincy status. As a university that focuses on its sports programs, it only grants single rooms to sports club captains. Despite this, school dorms are notorious for having thin walls. It would be worth it to see just how much Chuuya would bite her lips or her pillows in order to keep her noise down.
After all, she’s prone to yelling things all the time. Right now, she yells at her, “I would greatly prefer that you leave me the fuck alone!”
Ah, that’s no fun. She steers their conversation somewhere else. “Ano ne, Chuuya. You bit my fingers so hard—are you sabotaging the opposing team’s setter? How sly, how sly.”
A setter of her caliber—with the advantage of both brainpower and height—isn’t someone who’d fail at her position from such a tiny injury. Of course, given that it’s Chuuya who has marked her so primitively like this, it will affect her. She’d think of it all the time.
“I don’t need to resort to such petty tactics to defeat your sorry ass.” Then, Chuuya tries to break her neck by squeezing her thighs together.
Such a tactic does make her breathless and dizzy, but not in the way that her chibi intends. She opens her mouth and sighs, warm and wet, against the other’s skin. She even sticks out her tongue so she can drag it over the kiss marks that she has left behind.
“You’re so much worse than a dog,” is what her chibi says with great feeling. She slams her ankles against her tailbone, but that doesn’t deter her at all.
Especially since something breaks the sultry atmosphere, something that both annoys and amuses her. Chuuya’s phone whirrs inside her bag, the sound of her ringtone—some rock band that she likes, the vocalist’s voice loud and impolite in disturbing such a private scene between them—resounding in the otherwise empty locker room.
Dazai helpfully picks up the phone from the unzipped bag—since she has ambushed Chuuya while she’s in the middle of arranging her things. Since it’s a phone call, she doesn’t need to enter the PIN code before she can see the identity of the person calling. She glances at the lock screen, an impersonal but very typical picture of a bunch of volleyballs.
Her lips curve into something foul. “Your new setter is calling you, Chuuya.” Nothing but a second-rate replacement, she comforts herself. “Wouldn’t want her to worry, would you, captain?”
She even gamely presses the option for it to be answered via loudspeaker, then tucks the phone in the valley of Chuuya’s breasts, keeping it secured inside her shirt with only one end sticking out.
And then, ignoring the other’s spiteful glare, she gets to work, spitting at her fingers so she can use them to stretch Chuuya open. Her cheeks are moistened by the other’s sweat and her spit from earlier. Her lips become sticky with clear, gooey fluid leaking out of her partner, as she kisses her wetly there in tandem to her fingers’ thrusts.
Chuuya’s voice always has that gruff quality in it, but it’s even more pronounced now, even as she does her best to maintain her calm. “I have some business to take care of,” she says, steady even as she squirms when Dazai kisses the hood of her clit, before flicking her tongue to stimulate that bud directly. Once, twice. “You can go ahead,” Chuuya says over the phone, and Dazai takes that as express permission to suck hard, knowing that it will drive her partner crazy from the sudden assault of sensations.
“NNNNNGH,” Chuuya gasps out, wordless as her entire body undulates, delivering herself right into Dazai’s waiting mouth. The first wave of her orgasm hits, and Dazai simply continues to finger her through it, knowing that she’s the sort to have several in succession as long as she’s kept on that high.
So, as the person who knows her best, Dazai leaves her clit for the moment and instead delves her tongue inside her still-convulsing channel, filling her up along with her fingers. Chuuya trembles, as expected, and she nearly yells out a goodbye regardless of whatever Tachihara is saying at the other end.
She eats her out, a full-course meal in providing her sustenance. Chuuya’s pussy is generous enough to give her a nice drink at the end of it, coming harder this time. She squirts out a lot of her release, and Dazai is waiting for it, swallowing everything that she can.
“Fuck you, you shitty mackerel,” is what Chuuya says to her as soon as she regains control of using actual syllables. She collapses sideways against the bench that’s now stained with wetness. The floor is similarly dirtied, drenching Dazai’s knees.
“After all my hard work, that’s all you can say?” She raises an eyebrow and climbs after Chuuya, bearing down on her with all of her weight.
As expected of a brute, Chuuya barely even gives out a groan of discomfort at having her hands trapped underneath. She only groans when Dazai instead dives under her shirt, kissing up her abs and her stomach, wriggling this way and that while the shirt, no matter how stretchy, hinders her range of motion—just how she likes it.
“How are you still not done,” is asked with a hoarse voice that’s just begging to be transformed into more breathless screaming.
Of course, this means that as Dazai licks and lightly bites the underside of the other’s breasts, suffocating herself and feasting upon them, she busies her hands once again. One to curl up three fingers inside, and another to rub her oversensitive clit.
“You crazy bastard, I’m still—!”
One particularly harsh rub, and Chuuya squirts once more, drenching both of their clothes. Dazai enjoys it a lot, her partner writhing violently under her. It wouldn’t be surprising if the bench gives out, really. It wouldn’t make a difference, since it’d be terribly ruined either way.
It's a testament to how much Chuuya came—the fact that both of their uniforms, supposedly very absorbent, are dripping with wetness now. Dazai nuzzles against the breasts squishing her on both sides. Even the fact that she gets bonked in the head by the cellphone that she’s placed there earlier doesn’t sour the experience.
A few moments pass like this.
“…Did you just come without even needing to be touched? You’re that horny, you perverted fish?”
There’s an abundance of judgment in that voice, but Dazai’s never been the sort to be shamed by these things. So she bites the side of Chuuya’s left breast and breathes out, “If you want to give me some extra help next time, I certainly wouldn’t turn it down.”
“I’m not sending you any nudes, damn it.”
“You’re so stingy,” she complains, but she wiggles out from under her chibi’s shirt after one last kiss to her nipples. “I’ve defeated your team so soundly and yet you don’t even give me a proper victory celebration!”
Even as a drenched mess, hair mussed and face flushed with debauchery, Chuuya still looks very imposing. Back then, the two of them were called ‘the queens of the court’, but even now, even off-court, her chibi radiates that imperial grace. Even as she’s saying very brash lines. “I didn’t break your jaw for doing this shit, that’s me being generous enough.”
She pouts as she seats herself above Chuuya’s lap, lazily grinding their hips together. Not so much in a chase for another orgasm, but more to just feel her presence underneath. And also delight in how Chuuya makes faces at the squelching noises from their wet skin and clothes sliding against each other. “So you won’t be sending any help my way?”
“You didn’t need any help earlier,” her chibi points out mercilessly. “Sexually frustrated much?”
It’s asked with such airy quality. As if Chuuya doesn’t care for the fact that they’re now on opposite sides of the court, that they’ve separated for four months.
“Of course, I’m frustrated,” she complains as she drags her nails over the other’s cheeks. “You didn’t even stalk me at my new school! After I’ve prepared so many pranks on my new dorm room! All my effort is wasted!”
The more she complains, the harsher her breathing becomes. “And I find out that instead of pining for me and worrying about me, you’re busy with practicing and with treating your teammates to dinners after! You’re so infuriating, Chuuya!”
“Your delusions are even more infuriating.” A hard roll of her eyes. “I know that the concept of training for competitions is such an alien concept to you, but you do know that people actually do that, right?”
“You should have been crying yourself to sleep while hugging some of the old clothes I left behind!” For the sake of that kind of development, she even left her favorite tan coat in Chuuya’s dorm room! “You should have been pining for me every second of the day and then following me around so you can beg me to come back!”
“Why would I do something so pointless, especially when I’m enjoying some peace and quiet?” A derisive snort, followed by a pointed look at where she’s still grinding down on her. “Plus, you’d just come crawling back and making my life hell again anyway.”
It isn’t a topic that’s to her favor, so she coughs and diverts it with a, “Well, without me, you’re not invincible anymore.” As a reference to their partnership sweeping all competition, as long as they’re on the same side. “Your new team doesn’t even know how to use you very well. Your new setter can’t time things perfectly to make sure your attack will be at 100%.”
“…Tachihara’s not ‘my’ setter.” Amidst all this commotion, Chuuya has already tired of having her arms bound, so she frees herself with a little jolt. Then, she brings up her hands and gives her two flicks to the ears. “She’s the team’s setter, so stop it already with your pointless jealousy.”
“She’s still the one who sets the balls to you nowadays and she’s not doing a good job of it,” she whines and gets harsher flicks against her forehead in return.
Chuuya snorts. “Would you have preferred it if she’s better at it than you?”
“That’d be impossible.”
“Hmm, I don’t know, with how much you’re slacking off in practice—”
“—I wouldn’t slack off if you give me enough motivation.”
“Bullshit,” is uttered, swift and cutting. “Plus, why would I motivate you when you’re an enemy?”
“Shouldn’t you be saying something like, ‘I only want to defeat opponents at their best’, and other such things?”
“That’s for everyone else.” Chuuya sits up gingerly and makes another face at the mess they’ve made. “When it comes to kicking your ass, I’d want to do it under any and all circumstances.”
“You’re really such a brute,” she sighs. Nevertheless, she acquiesces to the unspoken plan of taking a shower together so they can go out without garnering a lot of looks.
“At least I’m not a dumbass who becomes pointlessly jealous about the weirdest of shit.” With those words, Chuuya holds her phone and then uses it to lightly slap her cheek, before setting it back down. “I’m going ahead. Since this is your fault, you get to be the one to clean this up.”
There’s no deliberate swaying of her hips as she walks off to the attached shower room, but it bewitches Dazai anyway. Ah, it’s hopeless. She’s not about to miss a moment of enjoying Chuuya in her shower, so she moves to follow—before her gaze catches on the phone.
Its screen is a bit foggy from the other’s sweat. She thinks about licking off the fluids there, but she’s probably going to end up kicked to death if she ends up ruining another one of Chuuya’s phones.
…Really hopeless.
She sighs as she wipes off the fluids using the sole spot of her clothing that hasn’t been drenched in their combined release. In doing so, she ends up activating the screen prompt to unlock the phone. Her fingers move on auto-pilot, keying in the other’s PIN code that hasn’t been changed over the years.
—She drops the phone.
She’s going to be kicked to death, but it’s going to be worth it.
“Chuuya!” She calls out, running towards the showers. “I knew it, you were pining so hard for me! Your wallpaper is of my face! You’re so embarrassing! Later, let’s take a picture so we’ll have matching photos again!”
“Stop clinging to me—oi, we’re supposed to be cleaning up—that photo is there because we were telling horror stories the other day, damn it—! Oi, listen to me—!! Shitty Dazai—!!!”
For the next hour, the rest of their words are swallowed up by the din of water.
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end