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“Are you just going to stand there?”
Yang shuffled and glanced over at who spoke. “What? No. Yes,” she said, before awkwardly setting her hands on her hips and saying, “Maybe. I feel a little ridiculous.”
“Yang, I’m hogtied on a bed and Weiss is just sitting there fully clothed. The whole situation’s ridiculous,” Blake said over their shoulder, jerking their head in the direction of their bound limbs to prove their point.
Yang let out a quiet huff of laughter at that. “It’s just that when I told you Xiao Long meant little dragon, I didn’t exactly expect you to go out and get one for me.”
Weiss, currently seated on the edge of the bed, lifted a brow at that. “You’d call your metaphorical penis your ‘little dragon?’”
Yang started to make a protesting noise before she reconsidered.
Weiss groaned, exasperated.
Blake snorted into the pillows before saying, “C’mon, before my limbs fall asleep, or else you’ll have to untie me and we’ll have to start all over again. We have episodes of Chopped to watch, people, we’re working on a tight schedule.”
Yang made an awkward hip thrusting motion and said, “Tight schedule, huh? I bet that’s not the only thing that’s tight in this room.”
Not just Blake, but both her partners stared pointedly at Blake’s hogtied limbs this time.
Yang huffed and said, “Okay, I walked into that one.”
“If you don’t mind,” Blake said, attempting to spread their legs more invitingly, “there’s something else in this room that needs walking into.”
It was Weiss’s turn to roll her eyes. “You’re rubbing off on each other.”
“I’d prefer a little more actual friction, myself,” Blake shot back. “My ass is freezing and my back itches and I can’t reach over to scratch it.”
“Oh, you poor thing,” Weiss said, almost genuinely, as she reached under their tied limbs and scratched at their back. Blake let out a quiet choked moan and managed to utter a few directions to help her find the itch in question. As she was scratching Blake’s back, Weiss shot a glare at Yang and mouthed ‘get over here.’ Yang just cleared her throat, pulled up her boyshorts under her strapon, and took a few tentative steps forward. She glanced over at Weiss. “Weiss.”
“What?”
“I think you’re a little overdressed,” she answered.
Weiss looked down at her clothes with a scoff. “I’m wearing leggings, Yang, I don’t think that counts as overdressing.”
Blake groaned and thumped their head against the pillow.
“Oh you meant the amount of clothing,” she said, embarrassed. Yang just grinned and leaned down to plant a quick kiss to her lips and tug on her shirt. She shifted her attention to Blake as Weiss made herself more comfortable.
“Can you still feel your hands and feet,” Yang asked, curling her fingers around their calves — or attempting to, at least, they were so thick even for her massive hands— and rubbing at the muscle she found there.
“Yes,” Blake responded, letting out a half-pleased, half-pained hiss from the ministrations. “But you're going to have to pay extra attention to me for being so understanding and patient.” Blake sent both Yang and Weiss a smirk, one that faltered when Yang's roaming hands found their way to their upper thighs and squeezed.
“Weiss, could you be a good assistant and get the lube,” Yang asked, pressing the callused pads of her fingers to tense muscle.
“You sure got used to this quick,” Weiss said flippantly, although she did as she asked.
“I'm just pretending that I don't have a replica of a dragon penis attached to my hips,” Yang responded, accepting the bottle she passed to her and tugging her in for a kiss. “You're a very good assistant, by the way,” she said when they broke apart, stroking her cheek with her thumb and pressing another quick peck to Weiss's scowling lips.
“I'll keep that in mind if I have to look for a new job opportunity,” Weiss answered, only the barest traces of humour in her tone.
Blake grunted to catch both of their attentions. “Could you talk about how servile you are another time, Weiss?”
Yang jolted up, surprised. Blake blinked up at her. “Sorry, I completely forgot about you,” she said, sheepish.
Blake didn't even bother answering with anything other than an exasperated groan. Yang just grinned at Weiss, who rolled her eyes.
“It was a joke,” Yang said, flipping open the cap of lube. She paused. “You did like... Poop and stuff before all of this?”
“Blake certainly had enough time while you tried to wrangle the strapon on,” Weiss said, idly combing through Blake's hair.
“No, I didn't, I thought it would be great if I pooped all over you,” Blake said, not even bothering to lift their head up. Yang just let out a huff of laughter as she squirted out a dollop of lube on her hand. She awkwardly fumbled with the suddenly very slippery bottle before Weiss snatched it up for her.
Then, just as she was positioning her hands, Yang paused. “Okay wait, wait,” she said, much to both her partners’ displeasure. “Blake, I know the whole hogtied thing adds to your aesthetic and all, but it’s a little hard getting to your ass.”
Blake, having lost the ability to articulate feelings into words about five minutes ago, merely groaned.
“I’d untie you, but my hands are all slippery,” Yang said, looking at Weiss for guidance.
Weiss only sighed, as though she were eighty years old and world-weary, but she reached out and went to work on Blake’s ties anyway. Once Blake’s legs were untied, they were stretched with a quiet choked moan, and Weiss fixed the knots as they explored their newfound freedom.
“Better?” Weiss asked.
“Yes,” both of them answered at once.
“I was asking Blake,” Weiss said, smacking Yang, who let out a melodramatic yowl. “Now, I think Blake’s waited long enough, don’t you?”
“Oh, right. Yeah. Good point,” Yang said. She leaned over, pressing a kiss to Blake’s shoulder blades, coiled, tensing muscle under her lips as she clambered onto the bed on her knees. “Sorry, babe,” she added, and in any other state, Yang was sure Blake would have made some quip about not being that ‘one pig from the movie.’
Instead, Blake simply rocked their hips and hoped that got the message across. Yang apologized once more for good measure as one of her hands went to steady Blake’s hips while the other found its way to their ass. She worked the first finger in as she straightened up and coaxed Blake onto their knees, face pressed to the silk sheets Weiss insisted upon using even though they were a nightmare to clean. Blake let out a gasp halfway between relief and pleasure, fingers curling and wrists straining against the rope.
With her free hand, Yang reached over in order to cup Weiss’s jaw and bring her up for a kiss. Weiss kissed her back, her own hands burying themselves in Yang's mane of hair as she caught her lower lip between her teeth. When they pulled apart, Yang grinned her dopey grin and kissed the corner of her mouth before focusing back on Blake and adding another finger. Blake rolled against her hand, letting out quiet sighs whenever Yang moved her fingers just right. When Blake's sounds pitched up, Yang and Weiss exchanged glances. Weiss grabbed the lube.
Yang managed to stifle a laugh at the sound the tube made when Weiss squeezed it, and both pairs of Blake's ears piqued up, head turning to see what was happening.
Halfway through Weiss's application of the lube on her dildo, — Yang unconsciously spreading her legs a bit more from the sensation— Yang, still knuckle-deep in Blake, asked, “Mind getting on your knees? I have an idea.”
Blake quirked a brow, interested, and they let Yang tug them up by the rope binding their hands together. Once properly up and balanced, Yang still tugging on the rope, Blake asked, “What's your idea?”
Yang pulled her fingers out, and her thumb brushed over their perenium before pressing there. Blake sucked in a breath, their whole body tensing. Yang grinned at Weiss, who seemed to know where she was going with all this and slid in front of Blake, effectively sandwiching them. Weiss must have started touching Blake, because Yang felt them tense up before letting out a quiet, ragged breath. Yang pressed her lips to their neck, although the sultry effect she wanted didn’t exactly work as she planned when she realized just how much hair Blake truly had on their head, getting a mouthful of thick black hair for her trouble instead. Still, she pressed on, asked, “How keen on being sucked off tonight are you?”
Even with the hair incident, Blake still made a quiet noise of approval at her words. “I'm not really all that hard right now, though,” Blake said, tilting their head back and leaning against Yang when Weiss started moving her ministrations further south.
“Weiss, wait, before you start anything, could you maybe help me get Blake's hair out of my face? I'd do it, but one hand's all lubey and the other one's holding onto Blake's rope like Jabba held onto Leia's when she was a slave,” Yang said, spitting out a hair or ten for greater effect.
Weiss made a face, and she was pretty sure Blake did too. “Did you just call yourself Jabba the Hutt and compare Blake to Leia?”
“I know, you're more of a Leia, Weiss. And Blake, you're totally Han, and I'm way too buff to be Jabba, but for the sake of this great allusion I set up can we just pretend I'm Jabba and Blake's Leia? I guess you'd be that twi'lek dancer who gets fed to the rancor in this situation,” Yang continued.
“Oh, thanks,” Weiss said, obviously very thankful of her role.
Yang sighed, defeated. “Would you rather be that alien singer with the like... Proboscis lips?”
Blake shifted, and with a mildly disgusted groan said, “Now I’m even less hard than before thinking about Weiss with a proboscis mouth. Yang, I love you and I love that you think I’m Han, but can we not talk about this when I’m supposed to be getting extra attention?”
Yang pursed her lips before shrugging and nodding. “I'd be Boba Fett, just in case you were wondering," Yang added quietly. When nobody else said anything, she coughed and added, "Weiss, please. Blake's hair is suffocating me.”
Weiss let out her patented sigh but did as Yang asked, getting the hair out of her face, pressing a quick, embarrassed kiss on her and Blake's lips. Blake chased after her mouth as they parted, but a quick tug of their binds brought them back.
“I didn't forget about you,” Blake said, turning just enough to only teasingly brush over Yang's mouth with their own. Yang only let out a long, strained breath in response. “Your dildo's probably getting cold.” Blake's hands, still bound, reached out, found Yang's abs. “Let me take care of that for you.” The hands, while rather limited in movement, managed to shift the few inches lower to make contact with the harness around Yang's waist. “Ease up on the ropes a bit, Jabba,” Blake said.
Yang guffawed but did as she asked, and Blake let out a few breathy laughs of their own as they shifted ever lower.
Once they got a grip on the dildo, they fandangled their arms a bit in order to give it a few pumps. Yang made a few breathy, mildly confused grunts at the sensation and said, “Oh, that's weird.”
Yang heard Weiss snort at that and she glared down at her, the effect lessened by the way her eyebrows kept furrowing and unfurrowing in an attempt to keep the rest of her face straight. “Okay, I think it’s warmed up,” Yang said, voice strained, tugging on the ropes. Blake’s hands retreated, shifting back up to rest on Yang’s stomach, who gasped and reflexively tensed at their slickness. “Are you warmed up enough?”
Blake nodded, but their attention was focused not on Yang, but the woman on the other side of the proverbial sandwich. “Weiss, are you really going to lie down like you’re on the phone with your best friend Brittany talking about boys while you’re sucking me off?”
Weiss glared up at her. “It’s comfortable and functional,” she responded. “Would you rather I crouch like some… some goblin?”
Blake barely managed to contain a laugh. Yang, however, was not so fortunate, and she cackled. Weiss just reached out and smacked Yang’s side, who somehow gathered enough energy and willpower to sober up in response.
“So I think that’s been decided,” Weiss said with a shrug, nonchalantly running her index finger up Blake’s thigh.
“I don’t know,” Blake said, breath hitching halfway through their sentence when Weiss’s finger kept on moving, “goblins are kind of hot.”
Yang sucked in a breath to keep herself from laughing. “Stop, Blake, oh my God, she’s just gonna leave like last time.”
“That was two times ago,” Weiss grumbled. She patted Blake’s thigh. “Kneel back a bit for me, would you?”
Blake grunted and did as she asked, leaning back against Yang, who let out a grunt of her own and shifted positions a little.
“What’s that Bruce Lee movie where he’s trying to take revenge on the gang who killed his sister or something,” Yang asked, positioning the dildo.
“Enter the Dragon.” Blake paused. “Why?”
Yang shrugged. “Oh, you know,” she said, placing one hand to Blake’s hip. “Just thought it was apt.”
Yang briefly registered the sound of Weiss smacking her hand to her own forehead before Blake doubled over laughing. She had to wrap her arm around Blake’s waist to keep them both from toppling over. “I didn’t think it was that funny,” Yang said.
“You didn’t—” Blake paused to catch their breath and straighten up. “You didn’t see Weiss’s face.”
Yang grinned, patting Blake’s hip and moving her own forward a few inches. Still letting out quiet huffs of aftershock almost-giggles, Blake spread their legs and bowed their head. Yang got the first inch in, soft silicone slipping in without too much effort. Laughter turned into an equally silent gasp, fingers trying to find something to hold onto as Yang got another two inches in. “You’re good, right?”
Blake grunted, hands finally finding purchase on something and grabbing onto Yang's wrist. “You could stand to go a little bit faster.”
“And have to deal with a ruptured butthole? No thanks, you can wait.” Yang just kept on inching in until her hips pressed against Blake's ass, the base of the dildo hard against her pelvis. When Blake let out a half-choked, half-groaned complaint, Yang finally took the opportunity to move, rolling her hips in slow, testing circles. Yang looked over Blake's shoulder, down at her other partner. “Weiss, you done staring at Blake and wanna get started?”
Weiss glanced over at Yang, flushing. When all Yang did was grin and focus back on the task at hand, Weiss also shifted her attention to her own task. She straightened a little before she curled her fingers around the base of Blake's shaft, half-hard not for lack of trying but from their hormone regimen. She glanced up as she gave it a cursory pump, watching Blake's brows knit. The angle wasn't great both for watching or for handjobs, with more than enough double chin and not as much arm room as anyone would have preferred, but Blake seemed entirely enthralled by the spoiling Yang and Weiss were giving them so it really didn't matter all that much.
Yang picked up the pace a little, nose nudging against Blake's neck, ignoring the black, too-thick hair that stuck to her face in the process this time. Weiss was a little more preoccupied than the last to help her out if she did mind it anyway. When Blake’s breath hitched as Yang changed the angle of her hips, she knew she had hit that spot she had spent hours googling how to find. The thought made her hips stutter for a brief moment. Had she deleted the internet history? Did google now think she was a deviant —well, more than google already thought she was a deviant—? She snapped her focus back on the task at hand.
Yang blew some hair away from her mouth before she asked, “I did find your prostate, right? You’re not just playing up the whole anal thing?”
Blake let out a short-lived bark of laughter, leaning back against Yang. “Yes, that was it,” Blake said. Their fingers tightened around Yang’s wrist. “It also helps that I have some more direct stimulation going on. Good team effort.”
Yang grinned down at Weiss, who made a point to look right back at her as she wrapped her lips around the head of Blake’s penis. “Would now be a bad time to ask for a high five?” Yang asked, mostly rhetorically, but only after she had coughed awkwardly and averted her gaze from Weiss's.
Both of her partners let her know how bad a time it would be to ask for a high five.
“Yeah, thought so,” Yang mumbled, feigning disappointment before kicking back into gear. Blake kept tensing up and letting out short puffs of equally tense breaths, head bowed and eyes screwed shut. Yang knew what that meant, pressing in closer against Blake and keeping her pace consistent. Blake's hips bucked, not sure which way to grind against, Weiss’s mouth or Yang’s hips. Yang managed a few more rolls of her hips before Blake's breath caught in their throat, back arching and wrists straining against the binds, before bowing over and letting out a long, strained, but quiet groan. Blake slumped over, and again, Yang had to hold them up to keep both her and Blake from toppling over onto Weiss.
“Get out of me,” was the first thing out of Blake's mouth. Yang readily complied.
She worked on unbuckling her harness as she asked, “Can I untie you, too?”
Blake nodded as Weiss straightened and cupped Blake's jaw. Blake shuddered at the contact, nerves still sensitive, but they welcomed the touch nonetheless. Weiss leaned in to kiss them just as Yang began to untie them. Yang pressed a kiss of her own to Blake's sweaty back, knotted with muscle and strain, scarred from training or battle or both. Blake made a muted but pleased sound at both their actions, one hand coming around to rest on Weiss's shoulder while the other found the back of Yang's neck and tugged her up. “I feel like a noodle,” Blake murmured, humming at the way Yang wrapped her arms around theirs and Weiss’s waists. She tugged the two of them with her to lie down on the bed properly, grinned at the way Blake stretched their now-free arms above their head with a relieved groan. She curled her fingers around one of Blake’s wrists, rubbing circles into them and bringing their hand up for her to brush her lips over their knuckles.
At their third knuckle, Yang paused and glanced up at Blake. “Were you spoiled enough?”
Blake smiled and cupped her face, their other hand finding Weiss's and twining their fingers together. “Thoroughly,” Blake answered.
“Good,” Weiss piped in, nestling up against Blake and resting her head on their shoulder. She reached over and patted Yang affectionately. She rested her hand on her biceps, squeezed at odd intervals, pensive. Yang just preened at the compliments Blake had paid her.
“Blake would be Boba Fett, by the way,” Weiss finally said, brows still furrowed. “Blake's mysterious and a person of few words.”
Yang made a face at that. “Who would I be, then?”
Weiss looked as though Yang had asked the most ridiculous question in the entire history of questions. “Han, of course.” As an afterthought, she added, “I suppose Ruby could be Chewie, though she'd have to grow an inch or ten.”
Yang opened her mouth, not sure if she should thank her for the compliment or scold her for calling her sister a wookie.
“You're one to talk about heights,” Blake said, deciding for her, shooting a smile Yang's way.
“I'm not the one who's Chewbacca. Leia is a perfectly acceptable height that I certainly fill,” Weiss said.
Yang scoffed. “You're lucky celebrities are short.”
“Shush, Little Dragon,” Blake said, playing both sides and tugging the two of them closer. Yang flushed at the nickname, glancing over at the foot of the bed. “You two are ruining my afterglow.” Blake smirked down at the both of them, combing fingers through their hair to soften the blow of an interrupted argument. Both of them mumbled some sort of apology. Yang draped her arm over Blake and Weiss with a heavy-handed, exaggerated grunt.
“At least I didn't say she was Jar Jar,” Weiss added, quietly.
It didn't seem like it was quiet enough, because Yang frowned at her, one brow lifted. “Meesa think yousa should shut up,” Yang warned, only about half-playfully. She sighed, flipping her sweaty hair away from her face before settling back down on Blake's free shoulder. “I knew showing you Star Wars would give you too much power.”
Weiss shrugged. Being denied formative science fiction movies in her youth wasn't her fault. Yang kept an eye on her for a few moments longer, but when she didn't have any other wisecracks, she focused instead on loafing around and slowly creeping further onto her partners. By the time she had swung one of her legs over and pressed her nose up against Blake’s neck, Blake was half-asleep, fingers running through Yang and Weiss’s hair in lazy strokes. Yang was halfway through yawning before she started and sat up.
“Wait,” she said, “you need to clean off before you like. You know.”
Blake snorted. “You mean before I crap lube?”
Weiss immediately rolled off of Blake, face distraught at the idea of lube on her silk sheets. Blake sighed and sat up with about as much urgency as someone who had to check their oven in five minutes would. They picked up the strap on Yang had used. “I'm taking this with me,” Blake said. At Yang and Weiss's reactions, they added, “To clean.” On that note, they coughed, turned around and shuffled over to the bathroom, hand scratching idly at their upper thigh. When Blake had flipped on the light, padded over to the shower, and turned on the faucet, Yang turned her attention to Weiss and scooched over to her.
“Babe. Spoon me,” Yang said, turning her back to Weiss and throwing a grin over her shoulder. Weiss grunted but did as she asked, curling her arm around her waist and trying her absolute best to fit snugly against Yang's back.
“You're all sticky from sweat,” Weiss said, but she didn't move away. Yang only hummed in response, twining her fingers with Weiss's and leaning back against her. She brought her hand to her mouth, gave her knuckles the same treatment she had given Blake earlier, and Weiss sighed against her neck in response. Yang could feel the tension uncoil from her body, as though someone had just pulled the plug off of those inflatable dancing noodle people every low-budget car dealership seemed to own. “Why visit the beach when I can swim in your salty hair instead?”
“I'm the salty one? Look who's talking,” Yang said. When Weiss made no response, she added, “But like, the angry kind, not the sweaty kind.”
Weiss snorted.
“You're like that equivalent of that lady in the bible who turned around and turned into a pillar of salt,” Yang continued, grinning against Weiss's fingers, which flicked at her nose and tugged at her lips.
“You're full of references tonight, aren't you?” Weiss asked, half annoyed, half amused.
Yang hummed. “I don't know, Blake was was filled with a really particular reference, so who's the real winner of that category? Ow, don't flick my teeth, that hurts.” She swatted her hands away and turned around, apparently no longer in the mood for being the little spoon. “I made a really good joke there and what do I get in return? An ungrateful girlfriend wounding me. Just know that my feelings are hurt even more than my perfect, perfect teeth.”
Weiss just pursed her lips in an attempt to not laugh. She succeeded only in looking ridiculous for a second or two before she let out a wheezy, ugly snort, one she struggled to bring back under control. Yang grinned and shifted even closer, bumping foreheads with her and cupping her face. Weiss closed the distance between them. They took their time with their kiss, Yang's free hand wandering down her side and settling on her hip.
“I could probably get you off before Blake gets out of the shower,” Yang said, absently patting Weiss’s ass and moving in for another kiss.
Weiss let out an offended grunt, shoving Yang’s face away.
Yang reeled back, movements exaggerated. “What? I was talking about how long it took Blake to shower.” She paused, brows furrowed, then let out a small noise of comprehension. "Ohh, no, I wasn't— I wouldn't— you're not that fast—”
“Oh, shush, don't work your brain too hard, you'll hurt yourself,” Weiss said, the hints of a smile on her lips. “I was just teasing.”
Yang huffed and rolled her eyes like a dramatic teenager, but she moved closer again and kissed the tip of her nose. “For the record though, if you were a premature ejaculator I'd still love you,” she said, looking straight into her eyes.
Weiss covered her mouth with her hand, curling up a little. “Oh my God,” she wheezed, her laughter sounding more like hacking coughs.
Yang grinned and joined in, peppering her face with kisses between her own shaky breaths of laughter. Her hand found Weiss's ass again and squeezed lightly as Weiss moved against the touch, pressing her mouth to Yang's midway through a hiccuped giggle. Yang reciprocated, forcing the kisses' momentums to slow, languid and messy. Her hand shifted down to grip Weiss's thigh and bring her closer, the other hand at her face doing the same. Weiss hooked her leg over Yang’s side, her own hand grabbing at the back of Yang’s neck.
Still keeping the pace slow, Yang tugged Weiss on top of her. She rubbed her thumb against the outside of her thigh, the calloused fingers of her other hand working out the cricks in Weiss’s neck. Weiss shifted at the contact, arms trying to find a comfortable but still functional place for them to continue to kiss, settling on leaning forward on her elbows, careful to not rest her arms on Yang’s hair — a challenge in itself. Yang kissed the corner of her mouth, and Weiss looked as though she was convinced Yang had just done it by accident until she kissed her jaw, tilted Weiss’s head up with the hand at her scalp, pressed her lips to her pulse. She practically felt Weiss redden at that, and grinned halfway through kissing her collarbones. Her hand on Weiss’s curled around the back of her upper thigh, tugged her higher up her torso, as she kissed her way down to the space between her breasts.
When Yang glanced up at Weiss, nose still pressed to her skin, and caught her staring right back down at her, she gave her neck a playful squeeze as the woman on top of her glanced away and coughed, getting impossibly redder. Yang just let out a sharp breath through her nose, catching her attention again, her hand moving from her back to her side. Then, slowly, painfully slowly, she shifted her mouth, wrapped her lips around one of Weiss’s nipples, and circled her areolae with her tongue. Weiss’s hips bucked, and she let out a long sigh, high in her throat. Yang steadied her chest with her hands, and she felt Weiss bury her fingers in her hair, careful to tug. She sucked, relieving the pressure with the barest hints of teeth, before moving onto her other nipple and giving it a similar treatment. Yang’s hand, previously at her chest, shifted to hold onto one of Weiss’s wrists and move her hand to the headboard, doing the same with her other one once the first one was settled.
When Weiss opened her mouth, probably to ask her what she was planning, Yang only smiled and waggled her eyebrows, shifting her mouth lower, tugging at Weiss’s hips.
Yang thought there had to be a hotter way to make the way from breasts to crotch than what she was doing; it really just felt like she was slobbering all over the poor plane of Weiss’s stomach, and she hastened to her destination, embarrassed. Weiss didn’t seem like she minded, but there was always the possibility that she was just entertaining Yang by letting her spit all over her stomach.
Either way, it didn’t really matter once Weiss was on her face.
Once Weiss’s knees were properly settled at Yang’s ears, Yang tugged her down by the backs of her thighs and licked a long stripe up to her clit, feeling more than hearing her shuddering sigh. She circled her clit with her tongue, movements slow and light, teasing Weiss into shifting her hips against her mouth. When Weiss ground down against her mouth, one hand shifting from the headboard to grab at Yang’s hair, Yang groaned encouragingly, picking up the pace, both hands settling on the backs of her thighs to steady her.
Yang heard Weiss let out a gasp, pitching forward, and she changed her movements, letting her grind against the flat of her tongue. Weiss whined, hand buried in her hair tightening.
“Yang, please, I’m not getting cunnilingus from a corpse,” she complained, voice breathy.
“Morbid,” a voice from the doorway said, and both of the women on the bed jumped, relaxing almost immediately once they recognized it as Blake’s voice. Yang lifted four fingers from the back of Weiss’s thighs in a halfhearted wave, not able to do much else in her position.
“I didn’t hear you finish up in the shower,” Weiss managed, looking over her shoulder as Blake made their way onto the bed.
“You two were busy doing other things, I guess,” Blake said, hands resting on Yang’s legs. When Weiss hesitated, Blake added, “Oh, don’t stop on my account,” thumbs stroking along the definition of Yang’s thigh muscles. Yang heard the smile and tease in Blake’s voice, and her toes curled when she heard the sheets shift as Blake leaned over.
Despite her anticipation over what Blake was going to do, Yang squeezed Weiss’s thighs to bring her attention back to the task at hand. The woman on top of her brought her thoughts and body forward again, slowly moving her hips back into the rhythm she had set before. Yang settled and matched her movements, lips pressing just under her clit, careful of her teeth, tongue drawing circles just far enough around it to tease. Weiss groaned, frustrated and high-strung, and Yang felt her fingers tighten in her hair and tug, ever so gently.
It was around that time when Yang fully realized Blake's intentions, point driven further when Blake's hands settled on her thighs and spread them wide enough to fit between them. Her breath caught at the back of her throat when she felt fingers brush over her boyshorts, hitching again when Blake licked her with them still on, taking their time. Yang whined, lifting her hips, practically begging for Blake to just take off her underwear and be done with the teasing. Blake complied, fingers hooking under the waistband at her hips and tugging them down. Then, parting her pubic hair with an index and middle finger, Blake mirrored the lick they had placed on her boxers just moments before, tongue rough but not abrasive. One of Yang's hands moved from its position on Weiss's hips to desperately grasp at anything Blake, still trying to keep her rhythm with Weiss steady. Thankfully, Blake reached out and grabbed her hand for her, their fingers twining together, thumb pressing against her palm in tandem with the movements of their tongue.
Yang found her own technique slipping halfway through a moan, and in a last ditch effort to keep herself focused, formed an 'o' with her lips around her clit, ran her tongue over Weiss's clit at a diagonal, and sucked as little as possible for extra pressure. Circles were a little tougher to focus on when she was getting head at the same time, but she tried to slip the movement in as often as possible.
Weiss bucked her hips at the change of pace, a muted gasp slipping from clenched teeth, and she angled her hips up, motions slower and choppier than before. Yang took that as her decision working at least a little. The quiet “Yang,” that accompanied it sealed the deal.
Blake's pace picked up at Weiss's noise, and Yang barely managed to keep her mouth's position as her partner finally decided that Yang didn't need any more teasing. One foot pressed up against Blake's side, trying to keep her hips still enough for Blake to keep direct contact and mostly failing.
Yang almost didn't notice Weiss coming until she was bowed over, hot breath hitting her hair, fingers tangled and tugging at Yang's scalp, hips stuttering. Yang eased her out of it as best she could, feeling her shudder against every lick, trying to buck against and away from her tongue and instead caught in the middle. She didn't have enough focus to keep it up for very much longer with her own orgasm creeping up on her at an alarming rate, pressing the side of her face against her thigh and groaning instead.
She registered Weiss shifting off of her but didn't quite keep track of her movements until her lips her pressed against hers, one hand clutching her jaw while the other tried to clean off her chin. Weiss's mouth was colder, much colder, than what had been up against just moments before. After getting past her surprise, she pressed her mouth forward, pretending her tongue wasn't trying to do the exact opposite of what she wanted it to do. When she felt Blake's tongue slowly drag up between her labia, she broke away, instead pressing her forehead to Weiss's, noses bumping. Her breath was ragged, eyes snapped shut, toes curling against Blake's ribcage. Blake managed one more circuit around Yang's clit before her whole body tensed, back arched, one long, strained breath trickling between clenched teeth. Like she had done for Weiss, Blake let her down from her orgasm as gently as possible, until Yang grunted and tugged at Blake's fingers.
Blake looked up at Yang, stretched forward, and flopped directly onto her, wiggling, in about as lithely a manner as one could wiggle, up to come face to face with the two others. Yang brought her hand down to pat absently at the small of Blake's back, breathing still halting.
“You're gonna give me heart palpitatio-- oh,” Yang just barely managed to quip before Blake kissed her chin and made their way up to kiss her properly on the lips. Yang let out a half-whine, half-moan, and she broke apart only to say, “And you two are gonna give me diver's mouth, on top of my palpitations! You trying to kill me?”
Blake only smiled, settling down properly on Yang's chest. Yang played with their hair and breathed in and out extra hard just to be bothersome. Her other hand found Weiss's scalp, and she tugged her head to rest on her shoulder. “Kiss,” Yang mumbled, eyes already half shut. When they did kiss, slow and lingering and almost all lips, Yang cracked a dopey smile and grunted in approval. “Good.” She scratched both of their scalps. “Love both you two.”
Blake hummed. “Good night, Little Dragon,” they said. Weiss let out a mysteriously well-timed cough. “Good night, Ice Heiress.” Blake planted a kiss on both their foreheads. “Love both of you.”
Weiss settled up against the crook of Yang's arm and threw her arm over Yang and Blake. “Love you,” she said, letting actions speak louder than her words.
Blake reached the sheets with five moderately flexible toes and managed to bring them high enough for them to be thrown over the three of them, sealing the deal. Blake buried their face against Yang's neck, close to Weiss. Although their mind was insisting to the rest of their body that they were not the least bit tired, Blake was still lulled to relative calm by the warmth of two disgusting sweaty bodies and Weiss's quiet pre-sleep snores.