Neo comes in the night.
She slips in through the window, eyes flashing like silver medallions in the light. Yang watches from her bed. She's tired.
At this point, Neo seems more like a specter than a person, especially when her hands - dry and chilled - slip up along her ankles, shifting the comforter with a paper thin whisper.
Any attempts to ask Neo how she found her, why she kept coming back, were rebuffed in kind, until Yang accepted that Neo was just as lonely as she was.
Yang tilts her head back against the headboard, breathes through her nose at the first pinch behind her kneecap, an amused flash of opalescent eyes.
It's clear what Neo wants, what she always gets. Yang kicks off the comforter and grabs Neo by the wrist; her entire hand circles around the pale bone easily. She could just squeeze, and it would snap as easily as cheap wooden chopsticks splitting down the center.
Neo seems to thrive off of this though, and she lets out a purr, smiles lazily at Yang through half lidded eyes.
She yanks the smaller woman up the bed for a kiss. Neo's gloved hands curl under her jaw and caress her pulse point. She won't squeeze - the last time she tried that, Yang had shoved the smaller woman down into the mattress and had her elbow braced across her throat.
"Try that again," she had hissed. "And I'll snap your neck before you can make a noise."
Neo had smiled, eyes swimming with light.
Is that a promise, Yang Xiao Long? Her voice had barely been above a rasp. She looked amused, but there was a thread of something else there. Like she craved it, deep down.
Yang shivers at the thought of it, blames it instead on Neo's hand grasping greedily at her breasts. She skirts her hand up Neo's blouse, raking her finger nails across lithe ribs hard enough that the other woman lets out a high pitched noise of contentment.
She leans back to undo the button and zipper of her trousers, and toe off her heels. Yang tugs her back in for a kiss, sucks a harsh spot into her bottom lip.
Patient, cub. Neo murmurs into her mouth.
"Fuck that," Yang growls, and yanks Neo's trousers to mid thigh with her good hand. She cups Neo through sheer lace, gasps when she finds her dripping and unbearably slick. She pushes the panties aside and dips into heat, hissing when Neo bites down on her shoulder.
"I'm not your first fuck tonight, am I?" Yang mutters incredulously. Neo rocks back onto the finger circling her entrance, tilts her head back.
Can you blame a girl for getting bored?
Neo grips Yang by the shoulders and whines at the first graze of pressure by her clit.
More.
Yang obliges, starts a rhythm that's quick to leave Neo breathless and panting. She slams her hand against the headboard when she comes, a ragged whine torn from her throat.
When Yang starts to pull away, Neo whines and rolls her hips. She's not through yet.
Sensitivity leaves her trembling at Yang's fingers parting and stroking her folds.
It doesn't take long for her to find her second release; she keens high in her throat, shudders, and slumps onto Yang's chest.
She pants, a few strands of her hair stuck to her chin and jaw with sweat. Her eyes flicker from brown to silver in a half second before settling on pink. She grins.
Yang's just caught her breath when Neo's fingers are dipping beneath her sleep shorts, tugging them down to her ankles.
She's already wet, but a part of her still longs to be treated tender, instead of being fucked the only way Neo can fuck her: dirty.
Are you thinking about that Faunus girl?
Yang stares dumbly at Neo.
You miss her.
"It's not important," Yang mutters.
I miss Roman sometimes.
Yang arches a brow and Neo shrugs.
He wasn't even that good of a lay. But I cared for him. And your sister got him killed.
"You won't touch her." Yang says lowly. The unspoken threat would have had more weight behind it if she hadn't been rutting into Neo's sweat-slicked hand.
Never said I was gonna. But she deserves to know pain, too. The kind we go through.
"She already has."
Neo chuckles, and it sounds like gravel being turned underfoot.
Maybe. Maybe she doesn't know it the way I want her to.
Yang snarls at that, fists a handful of pink hair tight enough that Neo whines, and pulls her up to face her.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
Neo blinks, and tilts her head back so pressure heightens her senses, urging Yang to grasp tighter.
Seems like you already know.
"Fuck you," Yang spits out. "Ruby wouldn't kill someone if they didn't deserve it. And your boy was the worst of the worst."
Neo gurgles a laugh out.
If you think Torchwick was the biggest threat to your little team, then you don't stand a chance against what's a few notches above him.
Yang mulls this over.
"You're going to wait. At least until I'm there with Ruby to fight you. You're not jumping my fifteen year old sister just because she killed your fuck buddy."
Neo rolls her neck languidly.
Whatever you say, Yang. Are you going to let me fuck you now?
Yang lets go of Neo. Her silence is answer enough.
Neo pulls up her pants, redoing buckles and buttons and zippers. Her hair's a mess and she smells of sex and sweat. Her shoes are soundless against the wood floors of Yang's room. Her silhouette in moonlight — perched against the windowsill, rumpled and mussed, makes Yang's stomach turn.
She leaves without a parting goodbye. It's unnecessary; she'll be back soon anyways.