Yang hadn't been on the back of a motorcycle since her mom died. The adrenaline rush hit her unexpectedly hard, born not from pushing the limit, but from letting go of all control. She clung to Blake and closed her eyes and tried not to fall off. Even though she was strong enough to keep steady with just one arm, she kept herself pressed tight to her girlfriend.
When they arrived in front of Blake's house, Yang let out a sigh of relief. She felt so stiff that Blake had to peel Yang off her back and set her straight.
"You okay?" Blake placed two bracing hands on Yang's shoulders, a faint smile on her face. "It must feel different, being a passenger instead of being in control."
Yang nodded a few times, not trusting her voice. So Blake brushed a hand down her back, kissed her cheek, and led her inside.
"Hello?" Blake called, leaning inside and looking around. "Anyone home?"
A low rumble, just on the edge of Yang's hearing, answered them. Blake's ears perked up happily and she led Yang to the dining room, where her father was waiting.
"You made it just in time for dinner," Ghira said as he set places for Yang and Blake. "Will you go get your mother and tell her to take a break?"
"Yes papa."
It was still pretty surreal to hear those words out of Blake's mouth. And to sit at her table, and have dinner with her family. But as a place to bunker down until she could get a ship over to Atlas, this was the best bet for a kid with no right arm.
A seaside home and a land filled with rivers meant that fresh, daily catches always ended up on the dinner table. Shelled, scaled, slithering, squirting ink or clicking claws, they all found the same fate. But today Ghira was in charge of the meal and he had a hankering for poultry. The soup was a little too spicy but Yang wasn't going to complain when she was dependent on their hospitality. She was grateful for the change of pace too. Especially after watching Blake test the freshwater prawns being sold at the market today by cracking one open, legs still wriggling, and biting down into the soft white flesh.
(Food needs to be dead and cooked by the time it's in her mouth, thanks.)
"Looks great," Kali said, rubbing her tired eyes with the back of one hand. "Sorry I skipped out on lunch, I was just too focused."
"I know, honey." He bent down a considerable distance, but didn't seem to mind the extra effort to kiss Kali on top of her head.
Sitting at the table, Yang waited for everyone else to start eating before she dug in. "Thanks again so much for all you've done, ma'am."
Kali shook her head. "I still say you'd be better off finding a blacksmith or a local engineer. I'm just not the builder I used to be."
They sat at the low, square table. Kali had her daughter at her left hand, and her husband on her right. Yang sat across from her, always feeling like perpetual stranger in this foreign land. "This isn't just a weapon. It's a part of my body. I can't just trust anyone with this, it needs to be someone I know won't try to sabotage me when I'm most vulnerable."
A moment of awkward silence ensued. She'd spoken too much, she knew. And it was probably just more responsibility falling on Kali's shoulders, the weight of all that trust when she was already working day and night to try and fix the broken arm.
Kali's cheeks turned red and she started playing with her food while Blake patted her shoulder sympathetically. "Don't sell yourself short, mom. I know you're retired but you're just as good as any Atlas engineer."
Yang tried to stay quiet after that.
And most awkwardly, after dinner, Blake and Yang hugged briefly before retreating to their separate rooms. The first night Yang arrived, Kali had asked if she'd be staying in the guest room "like your other friend, Sun," and Blake had blurted yes before either of them could correct her.
Awkwardness, Yang was pretty sure, killed more people than maliciousness every year.
She stared up at the ceiling of the unfamiliar room. The open window brought in a breeze laden with strange scents, and overlooked a strange town, and revealed a sky full of stars in unfamiliar patterns.
Yang rested her forearm over her eyes, breathing in deeply. It'd be easier to sleep with Blake by her side. Just one week in this house and she was already craving her, desperate to touch her and smell her when they embraced. When they went around for rides on the bumblebee, she had an excuse to hold on to Blake for as long and as tight as she wanted without anyone questioning her.
She wondered if Blake felt the same way. It was so hard to get a read on her, most days.
Although, at night…
"Pst."
Yang's lips curled up in a smile. Peeking out from over her arm, she saw Blake crouched on her windowsill. Her eyes reflected what little light remained in the room, glowing eerie yellow as she descended.
"I was wondering when you'd show up," Yang said as Blake snuggled into bed with her.
Surprising her, Blake leaned in for a kiss. A hard kiss.
Yang didn't hesitate. She threw it back, twice as hard. Pulling the faunus by the back of her neck, she relished the scorching heat that sprung up between them, the desire pent up after a day of tensely wondering how to break the news to Blake's parents.
Just say I'm your girlfriend, Blake.
Blake rolled her over, pushing up her tank to touch her breasts. They filled her hands and her mouth. She bit her lightly, sharp teeth teasing sensitive nipples. Yang squirmed, trying not to giggle too loud even as every touch sent a bolt of pleasure straight to her clit. "You're in the mood tonight, huh?"
"Uh-huh." Blake nodded, eyes closed as she kissed down the side of Yang's breasts. Some days she hated how sensitive they were, how eyes and hands always hyperfocused on the hint of cleavage left out specifically to tease. Then Blake put her mouth on them and every other thought usually got wiped off the map.
Taking her hand, Yang pulled it down under the waist of her shorts. Blake resisted, a bit, and rather than drag her Yang paused to check in with a smile. "Everything good?"
Quiet as always, Blake just kissed her again. She sat back, throwing down the blankets and undressing Yang properly. Her hands are cold, and in the darkness Yang was reduced to nothing but that sensation– and the lingering sight of beastly yellow eyes.
Blake touched her like she was starved for it. Like they hadn't been hours apart but weeks. Every time they had sex felt like this, with Blake growing more and more bold as they grew comfortable together.
Cold hands grew warm by the heat of Yang's skin, until they were both sweating. Blake sucked on her neck, refusing to undress yet. The long white leather coat draped over them both, making her feel like something winged was on top of her, possessive and defensive, guarding her against rivals and jealously hoarding Yang to herself.
Grasping Yang's thighs, she pushed them apart to kneel comfortably between them, stroking and kissing until Yang started whimpering.
"Blake, please. Just touch me, I–"
She kissed her again fiercely, pushing down as she worked a hand between them. Yang moaned at the contact, Blake's hands not cold anymore but scorching hot and unyielding, working inside her strong and slow.
As always, Yang was torn. She wanted to stroke the top of Blake's sensitive ears and hold her at the same time, but she couldn't. Not anymore. And there were so many thing she couldn't do anymore, or things she had to relearn. Trying to make love was one of them and sometimes it broke her heart, even if she knew it was stupid, even if she knew she should be over this by now, and she didn't realize she was crying until Blake was kissing the tears away.
"Tell me what you need."
"Make me come. Please."
She didn't mean to sound desperate. She hated sounding desperate.
But with Blake, becoming vulnerable was so, so easy.
So she held onto her for dear life, letting it all go. Trusting Blake completely, trembling and swearing until she knew she would fall, and this time nothing could catch her. Anchored to Blake, she let go of everything, shouting in release.
Pulling free, Blake licked her fingers one by one, chest rumbling in pleasure. That was the only break Yang got until Blake said, "You taste so good."
She kissed her lips once more, fondly, before working her way down Yang's body. Warm lips over her breasts again, tongue catching a rivulet of sweat on her belly, and then the scar above her hip. Still pulsing from the first orgasm, Yang shouted and twitched when Blake kept up that demanding pace.
Blake linked their hands together, giving it a reassuring squeeze before letting go to hold her lips apart, baring Yang to her tongue. She rumbled with pleasure, breathing a little frantic as she tried to get more of that taste, dipping her tongue inside Yang to drink her fill. When she returned her attention to Yang's clit it was almost as an afterthought, as, right, I'm down here having fun, better make sure she comes too.
Even though it all felt good, somehow that carelessness, the greed of it, got Yang off faster than anything else. Blake sucked and licked as if she'd die if she didn't get every last drop. Yang wanted it like that. She wanted to be whittled down to nothing, licked raw until every nerve screamed with mindless pleasure. Cracked open and sucked dry, not even the bones left intact.
She gripped the top of Blake's head, breathing heavily as the first orgasm seamlessly melted into two. Blake snarled as she did, a sound that somehow just goaded Yang into giving more.
"What's gotten into you tonight?" she asked breathlessly, reeling from how fast they'd gone from 0 to 100.
Blake climbed up just to hover above her, hands braced on either side of Yang's head. The faunus was shaking from head to toe, and when she kissed Yang against her mouth was flooded with her own taste. It lingered, ran down her throat sweet and cloying like honey. "Whenever we go for a ride on the bumblebee and you squeeze all close to me," Blake said, still panting, "I just want to park somewhere and rip your clothes off."
"….Huh."
Blake cleared her throat. "Is that bad?"
"I wouldn't complain if it happened."
Her girlfriend chuckled nervously. "Don't say that, Yang. Then I have no reason to control myself."
She stroked a hand down Blake's waist. The other girl felt like a coiled up spring, vibrating with unspent energy. "I'd like to see you lose control, I think."
Blake's eyes were glassy, hazy, yet somehow hyperfocused. Like Yang was the only thing in the universe, the only thing that mattered. She grabbed her again, roughly, pinning her facedown while her fingers ran down the cleft of Yang's ass.
"I'd like to see you so fucked up that you can't form words anymore."
Blake's fingers found her entrance, sliding along with no resistance at all. She was so wet that her thighs were drenched, trembling from every cool breeze.
Some small part of her wondered if they should control their volume. But then Blake's teeth found the back of her neck, threatening to bite but never actually pressing down. Yang moaned into the pillow, gripping the sheet until her hand shook, and Blake fucked her like she was on the verge of losing control, the way Yang wanted, needed.
"I love you, Yang," Blake whispered to her, and Yang felt like Blake was forcing her to come again, and again. No cooldowns, no breaks, no moment to gather thoughts and gently build up tension again. "I love you in my house, your body rubbing against my sheets and my gloves and my clothes, I love smelling you everywhere like you own the place."
Have I been doing that?
If so, it was completely unintentional. But being on Menagerie changed the way they interacted in so many small, subtle ways. "I'm s-sorry–" she said, because she was, and Blake shushed her with a hiss.
"No, it's wonderful. I want you to live here with me, I don't want us to leave."
We both know it can't stay this way forever.
Yang tried to rise up to her knees, but her thighs ached fiercely from the effort of supporting both their weight. She sank into the mattress, crying out in pleasure as Blake's voice stoked every unspoken desire in her heart.
"Just say it, just say I'm– Just say– that's all I want–"
She didn't realize she was talking out loud until Blake finally relented. She needed to be guided, rolled onto her back again as all her numb limbs refused to obey orders. Blake kissed her over and over again, pushing sweat-drenched blond locks out of her face. "Say?"
"Say I'm yours." Yang mumbled against her lips. "I want to be yours. I want everyone to know."
"You are," Blake promised her, breath trembling. "You're mine and nobody else will ever hurt you again, not while I live."
Yang pushed the coat from her shoulders, struggled with the black straps of her top while Blake tugged down her pants. She touched her at first until she couldn't bear not tasting her, not when her scent was so close.
Impatiently, she yanked Blake higher, grasping her thighs and ass.
With a knowing laugh, Blake relented. She knelt over Yang's face, one hand on her blonde head and the other linking together with Yang's. Rocking forward, she took her pleasure like she'd taken Yang's, roughly rutting against her wet mouth. Yang gasped for breath in between licks, relishing it, needing Blake's pleasure all over her face. It dripped down her chin, and no matter how hard she tried she couldn't control it at all.
When Blake came she stiffened up, surprising Yang with a low, pleased croon. The faunus was usually quiet as a mouse, sighing and squirming with release.
The night air cooled them down, and the next time Yang could form words it was already early morning.
"So," Yang said, with Blake tucked under her arm. The faunus stroked her fingers over Yang's belly, head resting on Yang's chest. "When are we going to move in together?"
"I don't know," Blake admitted. "But I think we can start by telling my parent's we're dating."
"I'd like that." Yang kissed her. "A lot."