Summary: Blake wants Yang in her pants, and has a difficult night concerning it.
Blake was pissed. Though, she wasn't exactly sure why; nor could she bring herself to waste time figuring it out. All she knew is that it was because of Yang. No, that gave the blonde too much credit. It was, undoubtedly, Yang's fault.
Except that didn't help the fact that it was entirely, one hundred percent, not Yang's fault, and that she was being melodramatic – but Blake wasn't about to go back and admit that to her.
As she slammed the door to her apartment, locked it behind her, and threw her keys somewhere in the vicinity of the cat head-shaped bowl that Ruby had made for her, she stalked directly to the kitchen to get an almost criminally large glass of red wine to nurse on the couch in the dark – and cursed her incredibly forward and incredibly attractive friend for ruining the excuse she had for not crossing the line entirely and just sleeping with her.
Because that was the thing; Blake had been ebbing on the edge of caution and keeping Yang at bay, even if they both knew that it was going to happen eventually (or, alternatively, that they simply wanted it to).
The flirting was friendly at first, and Blake had no problem with it. Then it was casual; she flirted back in her own dismissive, dry way that always elicited that stupid, sexy grin from Yang. Then Blake realised that Yang was flirting exclusively with her. Then she realised that was exactly what she wanted.
Maybe she couldn't explain why she was prolonging the inevitable, but maybe she didn't want to. Maybe she just liked the way things were. Maybe she preferred the thrill of the chase, and maybe that was due to being part cat. Maybe.
So when Yang had asked her, admittedly while not entirely sober, why she hadn't had a chance 'at that Bellabooty' yet, Blake simply gave a coy smirk and fired back, "What makes you think you had a chance in the first place?"
Such a challenge was not to be met with disappointment, and the fiery girl accepted it with glee. Blake was considering dropping her hard to get act, perhaps in favour of something that involved being a bit of a tease. After all, this part was half the fun. She thought that tonight, finally, she could just have enough to drink to disguise and excuse her eagerness.
Yang then did something she was not expecting – though she probably should have – unable to resist temptation, the idiot came up with all the wrong words that she obviously thought were good enough to get Blake into her bed.
"Blake, when're you just gonna admit that you want me? You really need to stop...pussyfooting around!"
Not even a second had passed and Blake was pocketing her things and abandoning Yang, her drink, and leaving the bar mumbling something that sounded like 'absolutely braindead goddamn shithead'. The bartender; one of Yang's acquaintances, whistled lowly and quipped, "Your jokes reallyare shit, blondie."
Yang's disappointed expression had quickly turned into a scowl. "Cram it, Junior, and get me another drink before I remodel your club again."
Her threat earned her another Strawberry Sunrise – of course, Junior put the little umbrella in it – which she promptly flicked at his face, but her accuracy was not at its best; to her chagrin it ended up bouncing off his chest. To his chagrin, Yang subsequently sat there for the next hour sulking in between five more stupid drinks with stupid umbrellas, until he half-assedly encouraged her to either pursue Blake or to just give up and go home (read: 'get the hell out of my establishment').
Thus the streets of Vale housed a stumbling Yang Xiao Long. Eventually, she found the building she was looking for – at least that was what Yang hoped it was – that held the woman she was looking for.
Blake was halfway through her wine, she definitely was still pissed (whether that meant angry or drunk was up for debate).
She contemplated calling Yang but couldn't find it in herself to actually regret her reaction to the feline-themed joke made at her expense (no matter how much her lust regretted it). Then again, Yang had no idea that people still bothered her about her exposed cat ears; Yang was all too accepting and loving of them herself. Yang had no idea that it actually still bothered her that much as Blake always shrugged it off in her presence.
She also contemplated digging up her favourite romantic novel (Ninjas of Love wasn't erotica no matter how much Yang argued it to Blake. It was, however, the "filth" that Ruby claimed it to be) to quieten her frustrations, that may or may not have been very sexual in nature. Some small part of her – the part that insisted she had overreacted in the first place, and argued said frustrations could have already been solved if she had just agreed with Yang and asked her to take her home in the first place – also knew it was a possibility that Yang would show up of her own accord anyway, or at least if Blake made a booty call. But, no, she'd never live that down. But, yes, because then she'd be happy that at least they'd have finally done it(and any smugness could have been erased with even more doing it).
Her apartment's front door then started sounding a lot like drunk Yang mumbling. And usually, her front door didn't proclaim that it missed out on a 'sexy piece of ass'. As much as she enjoyed the flattery, as much as Yang was oblivious that she had heard it (of course she heard), Yang was most likely very drunk. It felt almost criminal to want her right now – having sex with a drunk person; having sex with someone while drunk – didn't sound like the best experience. And, oh, did she want the best experience.
As her Faunus eyes spied the door handle jiggle (in a feeble attempt), and then, the mail slot open with force as Yang shoved her hand through it, Blake noted to herself that Yang probably still had the capacity to give her a pleasurable experience and should probably open the door. She had even resorted to flat out thumping into the door with her body; her tall, muscular, curvaceous, downright unfairly attractive body.
Fuck. Blake didn't even have a chance. There was no part of her that didn't want to fuck Yang right now. All four of her ears could hear her own frustrated growling.
Apparently Yang heard too, as the exclamation of 'shit when did Blake get a dog it's going to bite my tit' and heavy and fast footsteps fading into nothing suddenly brought the growling to an abrupt halt. Pleasurable experience aside, Yang was too out of it to remember Blake didn't even like dogs. And so she tried to convince herself to let the idiot go.
At last Blake settled on drinking the rest of that big-ass glass of wine – because something needed to finish tonight – and resigned to think of everything not sexy and blonde for the next half hour. When she got to bed, however, that was a different thing. Maybe she'd have the willpower to just fall asleep, and maybe she'd be lucky enough to have a fulfilling dream experience instead.
With that prospect in mind, the now empty glass was deposited in the kitchen for a quick getaway to the bedroom. Blake had almost shuffled to awaited bliss when she was bestowed a new disturbance. This one sounded like metal clunking and a struggle at her lounge window that looked upon the alley below. It also sounded ridiculous, but, alas her night vision allowed her to see none other than Yang trying to yank the window open from the fire escape.
Of course, the window was locked. Of course, at this point, she wouldn't put it past the determined woman outside to break and enter – even if Blake one hundred percent wanted her to, she didn't want a broken window that badly – which lead to her quickly unlatching the window before any more openings of her apartment could have Yang's hand shoved through it (because that hand needed to be put to better use, to be frank).
This meant that her anticipated dream sex was now being replaced with the possibility of real sex. Blake was still on the fence about that, though. She knew that she had to give Yang the benefit of the doubt and entertain the idea that Yang had not dedicated all this time and effort to just to sleep with her.
On second thought, that sounded exactly like something Yang would do. Still, benefit of the doubt, right?
As the pane of the window was wrenched up, and a stupidly alluring 'nailed it' floated inside, Blake summoned all the self-control left in her desperate body. As a toned leg that went on for days (seriously, it lasted longer than she could ever hope to in bed) slid in, followed by a head of mussed golden hair, she felt her self-control waver.
As Yang's head collided with the partially open frame with a resounding thunk; as the rest of her fell through without any grace (let's face it – she didn't have much grace when sober, anyways); it was funny enough to forgive her for bad choice of words earlier.
Because in truth, she already had. Yang was probably left quite confused, considering past cat puns were met with a much sassier retort that outwitted her. They exchanged banter frequently, not out of malice, but out of friendship. Blake was comfortable with Yang being able to speak to her freely, they understood each other on a level she never would have dreamed of.
Yang viewed her as an equal, she knew that; Blake felt a little guilty that the actions of a few had caused her to give the cold shoulder to somebody she trusted.
"Heeeeeeeeeeeeyyyyyyy, Blake."
"Hello, Yang. I'm surprised you came back," she began to help her fallen friend up from the floor. "After all, you didn't want your boob to get bitten."
As Yang's warm hands gripped her for balance, she gave a sheepish laugh. "Well, I did. Just…not by a dog," Blake felt her face flush and Yang gave a smile that was entirely unapologetic. "I also realised you would never own a dog halfway up the fire escape."
It was Blake's turn to smile. "So, you started climbing up with the belief there was an angry dog here?"
"Well Blakey, I couldn't just give up without knowing whether or not I hurt you," the look in Yang's eyes was one of concern, which then closed briefly in remorse. "I'm sorry for being an idiot." And then one of her warm hands was touching her face, brushing her hair away from her eyes. Blake then wanted to experience that kind of tenderness, instead of what she was fantasising about before.
Oh, how ironic Yang's apology was.
"No, you're not an idiot, Yang. I ruined the moment. You didn't mean it like that. You never do." Blake grasped the hand that was touching her distractedly before it induced any more thoughts about skipping to the good part. "I'm sorry. I let what other people say get to me and took it out on you. Wrongly."
Yang led her over to the couch in the light of the moon, gesturing her to sit. "Hey, I get it. Buuut we both did dumb things. I'm a little drunk because I was frustrated, and didn't chase after you," as Blake settled down, she pulled Yang closer. Which Yang easily obliged.
Yang shouldn't have to chase after her. Not anymore, at least. "I'm glad you eventually did, Yang," Blake was very glad. "Were you going to give up if I hadn't opened the window?"
Her raised brow was accusing. Yang laughed that time, unashamedly. "I was going to get in here somehow. The window seemed like a better thing to break than your door." Blake laughed along with her, embracing Yang around her neck and steadily leaning back into the soft cushions. This was what she wanted. Yang, in her state was not catching on; Blake tugged her a bit more into following her down.
Yang's arms finally shot down to support her torso; Blake felt Yang's lower half finally join her own. Apparently, she had forgotten entirely what this whole ordeal was about. "What're you doing, Blake? I admit that I was going to break in, and you don't even care," Yang's surprised eyes squinted down at her face questioningly, "Are you okay? I thought I was the one that hit my head!"
As much as Blake was getting impatient, she was happy to play along. This was the flirtatious crap they had been doing all along; this was the teasing she revelled in; this time she would finally find out what Yang Xiao Long was really like.
She deliberately ran her hands into the neck of Yang's clothes. "You did Yang. After you shoved your hand through my mailbox and banged on my door," Blake then gave her the smirk. The one reserved for Yang. "Seems like my apartment got more action from you tonight than I did." Blake raised her knee, adjusted it, until her thigh came into contact with the apex of Yang's legs.
Yang's world came to a standstill as her inebriated brain caught up with what was happening. Blake's knee. On her. A satisfied groan escaped from her throat. "Oh. So you- wait. Did you make a joke?"
"A joke is all you got from that, really?"
"I like jokes, Blake! Especially dirty ones. Especially dirty jokes from you," Yang raised herself free of the pressure on her centre – Blake was quick to throw her a displeased look – but Yang was just as quick to manoeuvre her hands underneath Blake's ass and lay completely on top of the Faunus.
Blake felt her back arch of its own volition, the grip Yang had on her easily taking her mind into a foggy haze because this was actually happening. The slow grind back down onto her thigh, and the way both their shirts had caught up to allow bare slivers of skin to touch was enough.
In an instant Blake had cupped Yang's face and brought it hastily to her own, in an instant they were finally kissing. It was warm and slow; it was hot and fast – which one they preferred was the battle that their tongues were trying to decide.
Blake was unable to really process anything but the mouth on hers and the hands desperately squeezing her behind – they were pulling her up while Yang pushed down just as hard – and the minute movements the woman on top was making served only to excite her more.
She had barely noticed that she was not actually breathing until Yang abandoned the kiss to gulp in air. She had the stupid sexy grin (that should be trademarked, honestly) going again. "Why haven't we done this before?"
Blake had hardly breathed herself as she replied, "This isn't going to happen if you don't keep going."
Yang set back to work, hurriedly burying her face under Blake's chin and laying down some tongue work that she was certain would be better applied something called the clitoris. Although, it was delightful where it was as nonetheless. She may have been rough and boisterous at times, but Yang was undoubtedly good at teasing her by changing pace - with the measured and deliberate kisses and licks she was giving Blake now, she was looking forward to every intimate moment they could share together – though she was awfully quiet.
Taken by her racing thoughts, Blake hadn't realised that Yang had stopped. Though she could feel steady humid breath under her human ear – at least she isn't dead – for once, the brawler was still. Overcome by emotion, maybe?
"Yang?" Blake carefully removed her fingers that had found their way into Yang's blonde hair. Nothing.
Absolutely braindead goddamn shithead – she fell asleep.
"Fucking hell."
That part of her that knew she should have slept with Yang a dozen times already – one of those times being about an hour ago – said 'I told you so'.
A/N:
I really feel like this was unfairly cut short - but in its imagining, it was going to cut off before anything sexy even began.
Never written anything like this before, but I actually really enjoyed it. I busted it out in less than a few hours, which I am happy about. Now I'm just fighting an internal debate whether or not to write the follow up (it'd probably take awhile). I guess you should let me know!
This was also titled 'Fight, fight. Kiss, kiss.' until I realised I kept mentioning the stupid sexy grin. This also was the first Bumbleby story I started to write (two months ago, ew).
Please leave any thoughts, I'd love to read them (any criticism is welcome).
