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Zanka now had her own private paradise.
It was a paradise with a unique scent and texture, exclusive to Zanka alone.
She sighed, snuggling more comfortably between the thighs that encircled her neck. Zanka felt the soft warmth against her lips, her chin and her cheeks.
If there was anything close to peace in the world, it was undoubtedly that place.
A strangled laugh sounded above her.
“Fuckin’ pervert.” Jabber scoffed. Zanka felt her movement on the bed. The legs around her shifted into a more comfortable position, then slightly long nails that Zanka knew were painted a mesmerizing shade of purple found her scalp and began to scratch it lightly. The sigh that the action elicited from her caused familiar tremors in the thighs surrounding Zanka.
Their… situation had begun a few months ago.
Ever since that fateful mission when Zanka and Jabber had disguised themselves as nurses because of some creep – a creep they later discovered was a waste of time because the guy didn't have the information they wanted –, it seemed like some invisible magnet had drawn them to each other, because even when they didn't plan to meet, by some twist of fate, the two of them would always run into each other at least once a week.
(If Zanka had found it difficult to go to the cleaners' HQ infirmary since that day because her brain liked to make her picture Jabber showing up in that uniform to take care of her, that was nobody's business.)
Rationally, Zanka was aware that this whole thing was a highly dangerous idea that would come back to bite her in the ass at some point.
Rationally, Jabber Wonger was also the hottest, most fuckable and most beautiful girl Zanka had ever seen in her life.
Even though Zanka wasn't the most sociable type or didn't have the most active love life, she had a bit of what one might call practical experience and a lot of what one might call theoretical experience. Her curiosity dated back to her time at Hell Guard academy. Of course, back then Zanka's number one priority was to keep her facade up well enough to convince everyone in Kamuatari that she was a prodigy, so indulging that curiosity was out of question. Once accepted into the front line of the cleaners, Zanka only managed to do something on the celebration night that Riyo organized when Enjin gave her the go-ahead to lead missions on her own, without another experienced giver accompanying her. They had reserved a bar and everything was going great until Follo approached Zanka, congratulating her and flirting shyly.
The conversation continued until Follo got close enough to ask Zanka in a low voice if she wanted to spend the night with him, and there was no mistaking Follo's true intentions behind that invitation.
Zanka agreed.
It was the worst decision of her life.
When Zanka recalled that moment now, even the time Jabber had pumped her full of poisons that science couldn't identify had been a more bearable experience. Follo was attentive and kept asking if she was enjoying it and if she wanted to continue, but either Zanka had a problem or he definitely didn't know how to use his hands let alone his dick. Zanka couldn't relax for a single second and had to fake an orgasm to make it end faster. Considering how they barely looked each other in the eye for the next few months and there was always tension in the air when they did any work together, it was pretty obvious that Follo had noticed her discomfort.
At least she discovered that penetration didn't appeal to her at all.
After that, Zanka's curiosity was redirected to two other focuses: the magazines on Semiu's workbench and her moments alone with Aibō when everyone was asleep and both her door and window were securely locked (Riyo would never surprise her again).
Her interest in girls wasn't new, but for the first time in her life, Zanka allowed herself to actually think about it. In general, girls always seemed prettier, more stylish, more charismatic, more attractive and definitely nicer-smelling.
She stole one of Semiu's issues and the result was Aibō trapped between her trembling legs, her panties soaked and her chest heaving for breath.
Semiu broke the doorknob on her door with a kick so pissed off she was, but was merciful enough not to tell anyone why.
A week later, on one of her days off, she dragged Zanka to the newsstand that sold those magazines.
An early birthday present, that's what Semiu said. If you take my magazines again, I won't be so nice.
From that point on, Zanka learned what she liked. Women were beautiful in every way, but there was something about the curve of their waist, the shape of their hips and the form of their thighs that always made her mouth water.
And, of course, that which lay at the heart of this whole scene and which, at that very moment, was just inches from Zanka's mouth.
“–an, back to earth, Zan-zan,” Jabber called, letting out a breathy laugh soon after. “Ya high or what?”
Zanka blinked, seeing Jabber's face between her small, pierced breasts. They were lying on the bed in some random room with cheap rent. Most of the time, the two of them would have followed the good old fight-and-fuck script in whatever alley or secluded spot was available; however, they hadn't seen each other in three weeks due to conflicting schedules, and the only thought on Zanka's mind when she saw Jabber was to put her mouth on every part of her body as quickly as possible.
Zanka forced herself to stop daydreaming. This always happened after they had sex, and Zanka decided to blame the post-orgasm haze that enveloped her brain.
That was definitely the only explanation, not some nonsense about her feeling safe and at ease when she shared a bed with Jabber.
“Shut yer fuck mouth.” she snapped without the usual bite, turning her gaze back to what was right in front of her face. Saliva pooled on her tongue and her heart raced.
Jabber had such a beautiful pussy that Zanka felt compelled to admire it every time she could see it.
Despite her slim and slender body, Jabber's mound of Venus was quite prominent, always fully covered by the thick, dark hair that Zanka loved to feel brushing against her mouth and cheeks. Her outer labia had smaller, more faded scars than those on Jabber's breasts and did not completely enclose her inner labia, which were always visible in their unique kaleidoscope of colors, a secret to Zanka's eyes: red and pink in the innermost parts near the vagina, and deep purple bordered by every shade of brown on the outer parts.
And, just as important as the rest, there was the clitoris. A protuberance so shy it could pass unnoticed beneath the outer labia, but one that Zanka had mastered touching, kissing, licking and sucking over the past few months.
There was nothing like a little practice to perfect the stimulation of that tiny spot, and Zanka was nothing if not a dedicated student.
She became so engrossed in worshipping that collection of tiny perfections in one package that Zanka only realized she had been ignoring Jabber when she felt fingers tugging at her hair.
“‘N you still don't even listen to me, bitch. Ya think you can fuck me however ya want ‘n then ignore me?” a tsk-tsk sounded, and legs began to press against her neck. Zanka could hear the sinister smile in Jabber's voice without even needing to see it. “Let's see whatcha think of–”
Jabber choked on her own loud moan, unconsciously pulling the cleaner even deeper between her legs as Zanka plunged her mouth into her pussy in one go.
That was another thing Zanka had learned from these encounters: Jabber was much more agreeable when she was melting of pleasure on her lips.
By that point, the tactics that softened Jabber the most were already etched in Zanka's brain. First, she kept her tongue wide enough to touch as many of Jabber's folds as possible at once, the saliva that had pooled in her mouth lubricating and preparing the area. Right after that, Zanka would suck and kiss the outer labia for as long as necessary, gently biting and tugging at the inner lips which were never hidden like a subtle threat of mutilation (which was a blatant bluff; that was the only part of Jabber's body Zanka would never draw blood from with her teeth). After that, Zanka used the tip of her tongue to alternate between zigzagging movements between the folds, penetrating the vaginal opening and making circular motions around the clitoris. Of course, she didn't miss the opportunity to run her hands over every spot within reach, focusing on caressing Jabber's already abused thighs and hips.
The raider shuddered and continued to pant incessantly as Zanka buried her nose deeper into Jabber's pubic hair and pulled her closer by her hips. They shifted on the bed until Jabber was on her back and Zanka could feel her own pussy pressing against the mattress. Seeking relief, she rubbed herself until she felt the characteristic tremors Jabber experienced when she was nearing climax. Zanka pulled away immediately, sitting on her own legs and savoring the remnants of Jabber's taste that trickled down her lips.
The look Jabber gave her was so indignant that it elicited a genuine laugh from Zanka.
“Sadistic asshole…” she heard Jabber mutter. Before continuing with her plan, Zanka allowed herself a few seconds to take in the damage she had done to her.
Jabber was completely naked, which was not unusual considering that Zanka sometimes didn't hold back her strength or her enthusiasm when it came to touching that body. Her waist, hips and thighs were the most battered, with thin rivulets of blood running from a dozen bites and bruises, painting her skin in shades of purple, red and green. Zanka had also paid special attention to Jabber's neck, shoulders, collarbones and breasts, even if she hadn't ravaged them in the same way; the hickeys formed a pattern of purple flowers that bloomed charmingly on her dark skin.
Zanka knew that Jabber liked to wear tank tops and crop tops, so anyone who saw her would know how well Jabber was fucked and that no one else could satisfy her as well and that Jabber belonged solely and exclusively to Zanka.
The delight of that thought flowed through Zanka's blood vessels like Mankira's poisons. She reached out to grab a pillow, taking the opportunity to steal a peck and positioned it under the raider's butt, lifting Jabber’s hips as she settled more comfortably between her spread legs.
“Ya gonna keep givin’ me the silent treatment, bad girl?” Jabber teased, sliding her adorned hands over her own breasts, squeezing and shaping the soft flesh before pinching her pierced nipples. She had a wicked smile on her face, a smile that said You won't be able to resist, will ya?
Zanka licked her own lips but remained silent. She turned her attention to the pussy offered before her like a five-star dessert.
That infuriated Jabber, if the gleam of anima in her eyes and the appearance of Mankira's claws were any indication.
“‘M done with this shit, babe. First ya deny me a sweet fight, actin’ like you've never seen a pussy in yo life, then you fuck me without an ounce of mercy, and now you think ya hot enough to not even talk to me? Maybe if I find someone else to fuck me—”
Zanka had found the complaint cute until that last part. She thrust her fingers into Jabber's vagina more brutally than she had intended and found no remorse within herself for it.
“Ya really think anyone else can make ya come the way I do, yer slut?” Zanka hissed as she took her eyes off Jabber's face and focused on her task. She inserted her index and middle fingers vertically with her right hand and pressed Jabber's lower abdomen into the mattress with her left hand. Having inserted her fingers deep inside her, all the way to the base, Zanka rotated her wrist so that her palm faced upward and began making hooking movements, feeling the internal muscles warm up and squeeze every inch of her fingers.
The left half of Mankira landed on the hand that was holding Jabber's abdomen against the mattress. Zanka bit her lip as she felt the icy steel of the claws pressing against her skin, still not piercing the dermis, and began to rub her soaked folds against the bed with greater force.
“Ya think anyone else can draw blood and break yer bones like I can?” Jabber suddenly stopped writhing and locked her legs, her pussy raised at a specific angle and her lips forming an ‘o’, those bright magenta eyes fixed deep into royal blues, not leaving her side for even a fraction of a second.
Zanka smiled. She had found the sweet spot.
It was easy to keep thrusting against that angle after that. Supporting her body weight on the hand that held Jabber on the bed, Zanka leaned down until her lips brushed against Jabber's. She breathed in the raider's whimpers before speaking.
“If ya ever think about being with someone else again, I’m gonna scatter yer guts in the polluted zones for the trash beasts to eat. Imma grind yer bones to dust and turn yer skin into a coat, got it?”
That was enough for Jabber to come once more. Zanka continued to stimulate her until she saw the pearly sheen of tears streaming down Jabber's magenta eyes and the sobs that followed. She withdrew her fingers, her right hand gripping the mattress beside Jabber's head and her left hand digging back into her injured hip. Zanka adjusted the angle of her legs, feeling her neglected folds touch Jabber's overstimulated ones, and rubbed hard, seeking her own orgasm.
Mankira then cupped the sides of Zanka's face, and Jabber did not avert those mesmerizing irises from Zanka's as she said:
“Be a good girl ‘n cum for me, hm?”
Zanka moaned loudly, the climax hitting her muscles hard and causing her to collapse onto Jabber. Hands without claws, adorned with silver rings, once again scratched the nape of her neck.
“Yo possessive ass sexy as fuck, Zan-zan. Keep it up, ‘kay?”
Zanka mumbled an affirmation before sleep overcame her.