Weiss hadn't spared any expense for the room, apparently. The entire back wall is nothing but one big concave sheet of glass that curls around the length of the room, giving a panoramic view of the entire night-lit city scape spread out below. There's a series of couches in the middle of the room, arrayed in a horseshoe shape pointed out towards it, with a few coffee tables inside. Another seating area is off to the side, this one smaller, but with a large TV in front of it, and against the other wall is an electric fireplace. There's stairs next to it, presumably leading up to the rest of the room.
A massive bed is set near the center of the window, big enough that Yang doesn't actually know what size to label it as. As wide as she is tall, and if it doesn't reach ten feet long then it's creeping up on it. It looks surprisingly open in the rest of the wide room, exposed on all four sides without walls or curtains to hide it, and with a clear view out the massive rear window. And in, though given that they're something like sixty stories high you'd need a helicopter to stand a chance, even assuming they aren't mirrored or tinted. The sheets are an obsidian black so deep she almost expects them to be reflective, and the pillows are a dark crimson that seem to glow like eyes against them. She wonders if that's intentional, before deciding very quickly that yes, it definitely is. The whole thing is set on a slightly raised bit of floor, elevating it a few inches or so above the rest of the room, almost like a stage. Whoever had designed this room had known what it would be used for, it seems.
Yang's eyes sweep across as she enters, taking it in. Wall to wall, it's probably more than thirty meters across, and maybe twenty feet tall, not including the second floor. It is, without question, the most expensive room she has ever set foot in.
The door clicks shut behind her, and she turns to see Weiss leaning back against it, watching her with dark eyes. She tilts her head, angling it a fraction of an inch to the side, not saying a word and yet somehow still speaking clearly. Yang obeys the silent prompt, closing the distance between them. She wants more than anything to press in close, to pin Weiss back against the door with her hips. But she holds herself back, coming to a stop a foot away, close but not touching, determined to keep a respectful distance between them.
Weiss seems to disagree. She slips a finger under the top button of Yang's shirt, hooking it around and tugging, and the distance shrinks, blood pulsing as she's pulled down, hovering over her. Weiss doesn't deign to meet her stare, keeping her eyes down, examining the slope of her neck made visible beneath the stretched out fabric.
"My, my, brute." She murmurs. Her finger tightens. There's a quiet ' pop' , and the button snaps free, dropping to the floor with a dull clatter. "Look at you. You're far more obedient than I thought you would be." Her hand slides down her chest, fingers stroking thoughtfully. A small tug, and a moment later a second button joins the first on the ground. "It's been such a long night. I would have thought that you'd have lost patience by now."
Yang watches her intently from inches away, eyes smoldering dark red. "Is that what you want?"
Weiss hums quietly. "Is it?" She asks idly, hooking another button. The next yank is harder, and this time when the button pops it flies past Weiss's face, bouncing off the door behind her. She doesn't so much as blink, keeping her eyes on Yang's chest.
By now nearly half her buttons are gone. Her shirt is slack around her neck, hanging only loosely off her shoulders. Weiss reaches past it, trailing a finger across the slope of her breast, following along the top of her bra. It's the closest thing to sexy underwear she owns- which is to say, mostly plain black, with a bit of sheer lace around the edges. Weiss examines it closely, finger brushing lightly over it. "Are you going to give me what I want, Yang Xiao-Long?" She asks softly.
There's a layer of thinly hidden danger in the question. Yang hardly thinks before answering. "Yes."
The inside of Weiss's wrist flashes as she twists her hand around and reverses direction, dragging her nail across Yang's chest. It digs deeper as it goes, leaving a long red slash on her skin just above her breasts.
"I thought you might." When Weiss finally looks up her smirk is sharp. She lays back against the door, far too relaxed for someone with eyes like hers. Dark, intent but indolent as they meet hers, content to wait. It brings to mind a cat watching its food, knowing its prey was caught, merely wondering when it should move in and take it.
Yang doesn't blink, doesn't look away. Weiss's smirk deepens. Her nails press into Yang's chest as she lays her fingertips just below Yang's neck. A small push has Yang taking a half step backwards, and she follows, uncoiling from against the door, blue eyes boring into her own.
"Good." She murmurs. "That makes me very happy, brute. Did you bring what I told you to?"
Her backpack is sitting on the floor by her foot where she had tossed it earlier, resting against her heel. Yang nudges it without looking and nods once, not breaking her gaze.
"Pick it up."
Yang does, and she nods, satisfied. Finally, Weiss looks away, eyes sliding past her to focus on something past her shoulder. "I brought something as well. I thought it might- suit you."
She steps past her, moving towards a small table. Yang's eyes follow, head swiveling to track her, pivoting when she can't turn anymore. It's not until Weiss is lifting it up that Yang finally sees what she is holding and pauses.
The length of chain is as thick around as two of her fingers, made of tight, interlocking segments that are nearly flush. It could merely be plated steel, but she wouldn't bet against the entire thing being solid gold either. On the whole it's fairly simple looking, despite how expensive it probably is, and at a glance it would likely be taken for a slightly gaudy choker. Right now, though, the black leather leash dangling from the loop at the end makes it clear exactly what it is.
Weiss has to stretch up on her toes to reach behind her neck, and Yang holds still as she leans in close. The links are cold against her skin as they settle into place, locking around her throat with a quiet click. Yang runs her tongue over her teeth, exhaling slowly. It's heavy, she notes, and only just loose enough to not be restrictive. Not something she's going to be able to forget about while it's there.
Weiss makes a satisfied noise low in her throat, dropping back down onto her heels. Her fingers brush over the chain as she goes, settling lightly at the hollow of her throat. "I always wanted you in a collar." She exhales lowly, watching it with lidded eyes.
Yang angles her chin up experimentally, feeling the narrow links tug against her neck. The leash shifts with the motion, and just the weight of it is enough to have heat pricking at her spine. "Collars aren't really my thing." She tells Weiss evenly, rolling her eyes down to look at her.
Weiss smirks coldly, looking up to meet them. "I thought they wouldn't be." Her fingers leave her throat to curl lightly around the leash, the leather sliding across her palm as they trail along it. "That's why it's so satisfying to see it on you."
She gives an experimental little tug. The collar pulls tight at the back of her neck, trying to yank her down, and Yang feels her eyes flare with a hot flash of irritation.
She's worn a collar before. Back when she was still a teenager, with an even shorter fuse than she does now. Exactly once, and it had ended with her losing her temper and nearly breaking her partner's hand when they wouldn't stop yanking at the leash.
She gets the feeling that Weiss isn't going to be the type to want to stop either.
Weiss tugs her closer and Yang goes, stepping stiffly forwards. Weiss's smirk grows, and she twists the leash around a finger, keeping the tension pulled tight.
The rest of her buttons don't last much longer. Nails press into her skin, dragging lightly up her stomach until they find her bra, slipping beneath. A sharp twist of her wrist, and it tumbles free, joining her buttons on the floor, her breast stinging at the sudden rush of air. Yang has the fleeting sense to wonder what, exactly, she's supposed to wear tomorrow, now that half her clothes are in pieces on the floor. It doesn't last long, a question for later, while so many others are so much more immediate.
Weiss pulls the tie from her hair, tossing her head to shake it loose. It is nearly incandescent in the dim dark of the room, waving like a white banner behind her before falling over her shoulders. She flicks a strand away from her face, looking up at Yang from under her lashes. "I hope you aren't going to make me undress myself, brute."
It takes a moment for Yang to respond, arms slowly grinding into motion as they rise. The silk is warm under her hands as they settle on Weiss's hips, fingers spreading out to circle her waist. They really do touch, and she can't help but let her thumbs stroke in slow circles, following along the contours of her stomach. It's fabric under her hands still, not skin, but from the feel of it there almost might as well be nothing at all. She'll never admit it while she's alive, but she has to acknowledge that Weiss had been on to something with all her talk of build up. She reaches back further, sliding her hands up to find the dress's zipper, and if she steps in a little closer than necessary to do it, neither of them acknowledge it.
Her fingers only just touch the tassel when Weiss suddenly speaks. "Rip it."
Yang stumbles. "What?"
"Rip it." Weiss repeats. "Tear it off me."
It feels like a fist is wrapped around her spine. Yang blows out a steadying breath, grounding herself, before lifting her hands, hooking her fingers through the top of her dress, shifting backwards a bit to get more leverage.
It's easier than she'd expected. The fabric parts under her hands almost before she really even starts pulling, the sound of ripping filling the room as it tears smoothly, black silk peeling away from white flesh like banks shedding sand. Weiss actually shudders, blowing out a long breath. "Do you have any idea how expensive this dress was?" She murmurs, face tilting upwards. "More than I'll pay for you for nearly a year."
Her mind runs through the numbers instinctively, the fist on her spine gripping tighter. One hundred and twenty thousand? Or did she mean three hundred? Does she actually intend to give her twenty five thousand a month? Yang doesn't know. She loses the thought a moment later, along with every other one, when she looks and finally realizes there's nothing but naked skin in front of her. Weiss isn't wearing anything underneath that dress, and Yang falters when she sees it, the ruined cloth slipping from her fingers onto the floor.
Weiss smirks coyly, eyes dripping with heat. "It seemed quite pointless, really." She explains. "I considered lingerie, but I thought this might be more enjoyable." She trails a hand across her stomach, finger tips dragging along the curve of her hip, and her eyes flutter as she shivers. "I was right."
She's already turned on, Yang realizes. She remembers her in that clingy black dress, the slit up her leg nearly to her hip…
" Fuck. " Yang whispers harshly, feeling like the word had been sucked out of her, and Weiss lets out a breathy laugh. "Oh yes, I most certainly was."
She slips in close, only just too far to be touching, leaning back to look up at her. Her finger tugs at the button of her jeans, pulls it loose, pushes them down around her hips. Her hands wander, stroking across the edges of her underwear, snaking around her waist, palms skimming over her sides as they slip under her shirt. One trails down along her arm, over her wrist, to the bag still dangling from her fingers. Her hand dips inside, and when it reemerges she has the strap-on in her grasp.
"You're going to need this." She offers it up, letting it dangle from an outstretched finger. Yang accepts it, and Weiss hooks her hands around the back of her neck, pressing herself to her front. Yang takes the hint, bending down and slipping her hands under her thighs, lifting her. She's a little stunned by how just light she is, hardly even realizing her feet are off the floor until she's standing straight again. Weiss's legs rise to wrap around her waist, leaning back, and their hips slot together, the smaller woman fitting to her front like a piece sliding into place.
Weiss gives a little wiggle as Yang begins carrying her across the room. "This is nice." She murmurs. "I'm glad that I got you. You're even better than I'd thought you would be."
Yang doesn't have the mindfulness to muster up a response to that. The woman hardly weighs anything in her arms. She's soft in a way Yang isn't , muscles weak and unused, skin smooth and untouched, giving easily against her. She wraps her fingers around her wrist, and it feels so fragile under her hand, like her bones may just shatter if she squeezes too hard. The woman is so tiny she can wrap her up with a single arm. She lays her down on the bed beneath her, and it feels like she'll smother her as she leans over her, like she'll be crushed under her weight. She holds herself up to keep it from happening, but Weiss doesn't seem to care about the danger, tightening her limbs around her and pulling her closer.
It's a little awkward, shimmying her jeans down low enough to kick off, even with them already hanging low around her hips. She considers going back for her underwear, but it already feels like she's taking too long, and it's not worth the effort with Weiss still pressed against her front.
Metal clinks together as Yang winds the harness around her hips, leather creaking as she tightens the straps around her legs, buckling them in place, feeling a dull pressure as the toy presses into the mattress between them. Weiss exhales softly, and for the first time it shakes the tiniest bit. "It's been a long time since I've done this." She admits quietly, and Yang's breath hitches.
"I'll go slow." She promises, voice rough.
She gasps when the collar tightens, Weiss yanking the leash, dragging her down. Yang freezes as she's suddenly pierced by frozen blue eyes. They glare up at her, colder than the depths if the ocean, and twice as dark. "If I think you are holding back even the slightest bit." Weiss murmurs, and the words slice through her like icy daggers, the temperature dropping with every word she speaks like it's frost that flows from her lips. "Then I am ending the deal tonight."
The threat settles heavy on her shoulders, making her shudder as it winds around her heart. Those eyes are hard as steel, and she never questions if it's genuine. Yang's lips hang open, she has to wet them before she can speak, unable to blink. "I don't- I don't want to hurt you."
Blue eyes bore into her own, never flinching. "And I made it clear that I don't care what you want." She pulls the leash harder, dragging Yang lower, until she's bent over her completely and is forced to lean back and resist the pull to avoid falling on her. Weiss glares up at her from barely inches away. "You will not treat me like I'm made of glass."
The words are punctuated by nails raking across the side of her throat, down the front of her chest. Yang braces her hands on the bed, fingers crushing the sheets instead of Weiss's hips, feeling her eyes flare hotter along with her temper. Still, she forces herself not to react. Bracing a palm on Weiss's shoulder, she peels her off enough to lever herself up and look down.
There's a small container of lube in one of the pockets of her bag, but Weiss either hadn't noticed or hadn't cared. Yang rocks her hips forward, not really trying to line herself up, just letting the toy slide across her. It seems like foreplay isn't going to play a large part in tonight, but she'll do what she can. Whatever the hell Weiss wants from her, Yang knows what it's like to be fucked too hard before you're ready, and it's not something she wants to do to the woman beneath her.
Weiss disagrees, judging by the way her hands fist themselves into her hair and yank, trying to drag her back down. When that doesn't do more than make her bare her teeth she shifts her grip, and her nails slice across the length of her face, just barely missing the corner of her eye as they drag down her cheek.
Yang jerks her head away, snarling bitten off curses. "Stop it."
"You aren't the one giving orders, Yang." Weiss smirks at her, lips twisted up, teeth white, but it seems they should be red with blood. Yang growls, anger licking up the back of her throat before diving down and kissing her hard enough to press her head back into the mattress.
Her lips are small like the rest of her, hard and sharp like the rest of her, refusing to be soft, wearing their jagged lines like armor to cut any who dare try to come close. Weiss nips at her, teeth bared in a smile even as they bite her lips, yanking back like wolves ripping meat from a bone. Yang hisses, feels something in the mattress begin to tear from how hard her hands clench. She turns her face away, kissing along Weiss's cheek instead, moving back towards her ear. Weiss isn't slowed, teeth fastening on the side of her neck, hand knotting itself in her hair like she is trying to drag her down and devour her. A snarl rips itself out of Yang's throat, gritting her teeth as she's forced to crane her head to the side from the way her hair is being yanked.
In the end, though, it's Weiss's patience that dwindles faster than hers. On the next shallow thrust her ankles tighten on the small of her back, rolling her hips up just as Yang pushes down, and the toy slides home, half its length pushing into her at once.
Weiss's knuckles whiten as her spine curves and she gasps sharply, a tiny noise escaping her throat like it had been punched out of her. Yang stills, surprised and a little alarmed, but Weiss doesn't wait for her. Her legs tighten again, and Weiss groans from just beside her ear as she drags herself closer, until the bottoms of her thighs bump against Yang's hips.
Yang is frozen, body stiff as Weiss hangs off her. Her face is buried into her neck, and Yang can feel her short breaths puffing against her collar. She can't see her face, her head tucked down so that white hair brushes her chin, but her fingers are tight as they clamp on the back of Yang's head. Her tongue seems to fill her mouth, and she swallows, breath slightly unsteady as she exhales.
She isn't sure how long they stay there, in a crystal tableau, like the world has frozen around them. It's not until Weiss shifts against her a minute later that Yang unlocks, twitching and moving to follow.
She settles herself more firmly into Yang's lap, hanging off her neck as she begins to rock herself back and forth. Despite what she'd said earlier, Weiss moves slow, at first, only shifting a few inches at a time, and Yang brings one hand up to curl under her hip, helping to guide her.
The gentle pace doesn't last long, though, and only a minute later Weiss begins moving faster. Nails bite at the back of her neck, and she can hear her breaths coming through her teeth as they grow heavier. Yang lays her down on the bed, stopping her and taking over, thrusting at a slower rhythm. This earns a sharp hiss from below her, followed immediately by a hard nip at the side of her neck.
"Don't." Weiss snaps. She's breathing hard, but it does nothing to dampen her anger. "Don't hold back. If I wanted soft I would have bought someone else."
Yang twitches again at the thought of being bought, but bites her tongue and says nothing. She tries to ignore it, keeping her pace, but Weiss is relentless. Nails rake across Yang's back like a lashing whip. She can feel them crisscrossing over each other, every inch of skin from her neck to her hips feeling like it's on fire. More follow each second, accompanied by sharp teeth at her front, driving her forwards mercilessly, accepting no other course but the one chosen for her. She never looses the leash from her hold and it tugs with every movement, collar yanking and twisting and chafing at the raw mass of anger stacking up inside her chest; Yang snarls through gritted teeth as sweat rolls down her face, eyes stinging from how hard they burn. "Stop."
"Why should I?" Weiss lets go just long enough to pant, before tilting her head and biting down on the sensitive skin below her jaw. Pain flashes all the way to her temples, and Yang's hand moves almost before she notices, wrapping across the front of her face and ripping her off, pinning her head to the sheets as she tears herself away.
A blue eye rolls back to look up at her through the frame of her fingers. Weiss smiles.
The frustration in her chest darkens. The little woman is intent on making her angry. The fact that it's working only makes it worse.
With a grunt, Yang speeds up without warning, and there's a dark satisfaction to the way Weiss's next scratch skitters off her shoulder to the side, replaced by a tight gasp. Bending low over her, Yang grips her hips with both hands, beginning to drag her back to meet her. Weiss had opened her mouth, but whatever she'd been about to say cuts off with a choked curse and her face tightens as she squeezes her eyes shut, bracing her palms against Yang's shoulders.
She spits more curses without pause, a stream of profanities that climbs higher and higher, becoming gasps as she presses her shoulders back into the bed. A moment later they cut off as she arches up off the sheets, teeth clenched tight as her lips peel back, arms quivering from how hard they press against Yang's chest.
Yang doesn't slow, only tightening her grip on her hips as she redoubles her pace, and watches as her mouth falls open, words lost to small, sharp cries that seem to drag themselves from her throat. They reach out to her ears, sinking into them and reverberating as they meet in her skull, moving down to join the frantic thundering of her heart in her chest.
The strap-on hadn't been designed with much thought for the wearer in mind. Only the blunt pressure of the toy's flat base pressing back against the front of her underwear with every thrust gives her any stimulation. But she must have been more pent up than she'd thought, because pressure builds far faster than she'd expected, winding tighter and tighter below her stomach. It only takes a few minutes for it to burst, and she stutters and stops with a sharp gasp, white spots popping in her vision as waves of hot electricity pulse outwards, rippling under her skin in waves.
She loses her grip on Weiss, bracing her forearms to the bed on either side of her, breathing hard. Sweat makes her skin slick, her hair feeling unbearably hot wherever it touches her body, and her muscles ache from use, a low throbbing spreading out through her hips and stomach.
Weiss's hands shake as they rise to curl around the back of her shoulders. She's trembling all over, arms hardly feeling like they have the strength to rise, but that doesn't stop them from tightening around her. She tilts her face up, nuzzling into the side of her neck, and it feels like fangs at her throat. "I told you not to hold back, brute." She murmurs lowly, voice a hot wash across her ear, and Yang shudders. Nails bite into the hollows of her shoulder blades, dragging slowly down her spine, making her muscles spasm as hot lines of pain are carved into her back. Her voice is breathless, words thin exhales between pants, but that doesn't hide the steel in them. "You have one more chance. If you stop again, we're done."
Yang's nails bite into the flesh of her palm, rotors in her arm whirring loudly. She almost does it anyways, nearly just lays her down and pulls away. 'You're insane.' She wants to tell her. Yang is three times her size, and has an arm that can crush metal. She'd kill her.
But she doesn't.
She's not sure what it is that stirs in her chest, something dark and heavy that rouses from deep, deep down, dragging itself up as it rises to the surface. Maybe it's the last two years she's spent, holding herself back every day without release. Maybe she's itching to let go again, any way she can. Maybe she's angry. Maybe her patience has run out. Maybe she's tired of being pushed and pushed, of the little woman taunting her with every moment they're together, dangling herself in front of her like bait on a hook. Maybe she wants to give Weiss the animal she's asking for.
It settles inside her, hardening in her chest. Reaching up, she catches Weiss's wrist. Ignoring the way the smaller woman yanks against her, she tightens her grip, squeezing until the fingers in her hair are forced to open, pulling them loose. Dragging her arm up, she uses it to lift her bodily off the bed and around, flipping her onto her stomach.
Weiss fights with the same fervor as before, hardly seeming tired at all despite the way her hair clings to her with sweat. She claws at Yang's hand on her arm, nails scratching hard enough to draw thread-thin beads of blood on the back of her palm, trying to wriggle under her fingers and bend them back, throwing a foot behind her to slam a heel into the meat of Yang's hip. Yang doesn't budge an inch, weathering it all, merely dragging Weiss's arm out to the side and twisting her wrist, forcing Weiss to arch her back and try to follow it. She thrashes, yanking at her hand and shoving back against the sheets, spitting curses in what sounds like three different languages, and the ones she recognizes would make a Vacuoin barman falter. None of what she says in any language is 'stop' , however, so Yang ignores it.
Moving slowly, she lets her other hand rest on the center of Weiss's back, directly between her shoulders. She spreads her fingers out wide, splaying them out against her skin, and they nearly cover the smaller woman's back. Bending slightly, she lets her elbow cock with the movement before stopping. Tightening her fingers, she flexes her arm, beginning to press down. Weiss struggles against her, bringing her free arm forwards and planting it on the bed, resisting the push. The leash is still held tightly in her fist, and it's entirely unintentional, but the motion causes it to pull tight, yanking at the collar again, and Yang feels heat roll through her.
Once, when she was young, Yang had managed to catch a bird in her hands. She'd held it there, feeling it's tiny struggles against her fingers, how desperately it fought to escape. This moment reminds her of that now, as Weiss strains against her hand. Her muscles stretch out against her skin as she braces her arm beneath her, breaths choking off as she presses back with every bit of strength she has, body shaking with exertion, and Yang hardly feels it at all.
She leans down further, pressing with just a bit more force, and Weiss's resistance shatters like so much tempered glass. Her arm folds under her, and she collapses to the sheets, not even given a chance to bounce as Yang's weight crushes her flat to the mattress.
Yang doesn't stop. She presses harder, hears Weiss's strangled gasp as she slowly bears down on her, until her spine is forced to arch and she can feel the fluttering of her heart, her lungs straining for air beneath her hand. She stops just before they're crushed to stillness, leaving Weiss with only thin, whistling pants of air.
Weiss's arm is still in her grasp and Yang pulls it out and back. Weiss yanks at it, trying to break free, but Yang is hardly even slowed, gripping her wrist and folding it around until it's pressed to the small of her back. Shifting her feet around, she braces her knees behind Weiss's, bending her legs and pressing down to pin them to the side of the bed.
Weiss twitches under her, wriggling as much as she can. She might be trying to buck, but it's hard to tell when the motion is so small. Eventually, she manages to squirm her other arm out from underneath her. The leash is still in her hand. She pauses to catch her breath, and Yang watches as her fingers whiten against the dark leather before she rolls her wrist, winding it around her knuckles, twice, until it's pulled taut. And then, deliberately, yanks.
Yang doesn't budge. Taking a deep breath, she exhales slowly and holds herself still, fighting down the urge to tighten her grip until it's crushing.
Loosed from its restraints, Weiss's hair had flung about during her struggles, and cool white strands lay scattered across flushed skin. Lifting a hand, Yang pulls the curtain of her hair away, sweeping it aside and leaving the back of her neck bare. Carefully, she slips her fingers along the thrumming pulse at the side of her throat, running a thumb down the ridges of her spine, measuring the distance between her vertebrae. Weiss's neck flexes with effort as she swallows, shifting beneath her, and red eyes watch her bones glide under her skin.
Yang bends over her, moderating the pressure on the smaller woman to keep it even as she leans forwards. The length of Weiss's throat grows in her vision, a collision course that's impossible to avoid. Tilting her head, she presses her lips to the back of her neck, just to the side of her spine. She slides up as she continues to lower herself, softly kissing the side of her straining throat, and then up again, against the underside of her ear.
Finally, Yang lets her weight settle across Weiss's back, covering her completely, entombed. Weiss shudders in the dark as she settles over her, throat working beneath her hand as she swallows.
White hair has piled up on black sheets around her head, hiding her face like a shroud. Yang lets her face rest against the top of her head, lips pressed just above her temple. It's far too dangerous to be a kiss, and she feels Weiss shiver, the tendons in her wrist flexing beneath Yang's fingers as she tries to clench her fist.
She jerks again, twisting and pulling at Yang's grip, back straining as she tries to lift herself. Yang does nothing, simply watching, feeling her muscles flex as she struggles against her, waiting for her to exhaust herself. Eventually she falls still again, breathing in short, tight pants. Waiting a moment more, Yang finally shifts back slightly and angles her head down, letting her lips rest against the hair that lays across her ear.
"You told me not to stop." Yang murmurs softly. "So I'm not going to stop."
It's a last warning, a final call for her to reconsider, but Weiss's only response is another sharp yank of the leash. Yang tightens her grip until it's near bruising and she can feel the shallow rasps of her breath through her skin. "Fine."
Lifting her hips up, she cants them back until she feels the strap-on line up, the tip pressing against Weiss's lips. And then throws her hips forwards, slamming it home in a single thrust, hard. Weiss's muscles harden as she goes ridged beneath her, a choked noise bursting past her lips like it had been punched out. Yang takes her hand away from her throat, lessening the pressure on her back to let her breathe easier, giving her the chance to speak. When she doesn't she repeats the motion, and then a third time, the pause between them growing shorter with each one, until it disappears all together.
As much as she wants to throw restraint to the wind, she knows she can't keep up such a reckless pace for long before getting tired. Instead, she gradually increases her speed, building up until she finds a rhythm she can maintain for minutes on end and settling there, moving with a steady, relentless rhythm.
Steady doesn't mean slow, however. Soon enough fresh sweat is breaking through the cooling film of salt on her skin, and her muscles burn like she'd been running flat out for miles. Weiss writhes underneath her, choked off words and unfinished curses spilling past her lips between ragged gasps of air. Yang grips the back of her head; her hand is large enough to wrap all the way around her skull and she digs her fingers in, dragging it back until Weiss's face is arched towards the ceiling and her teeth are peeled apart, no longer able to muffle her.
Her nerves are still buzzing from her first climax, and it doesn't take long to reach her second. She falters for a moment, her hips stuttering in their relentless tempo before she grits her teeth and drags herself back, forces herself back into motion. Weiss's voice wavers, words forgotten as she pants open mouthed, tight, shaking cries the only things that stumble out from her throat. Yang's vision blurs, sweat stinging her eyes as white pops and static blooms across them, electricity lashing at the inside of her skull as her nerves spark and burn, but she uses their cries for fuel, tightening her grip and forcing herself faster, until it all blurs together.
Finally, after some endless amount of time, the heat haze clouding her head parts, and she notices Weiss has stopped writhing under her. Her cries have died off, and the only sounds in the dark room are Yang's heavy breaths and the mattress creaking beneath her, and the wet slap of their hips meeting as she fucks her.
She slows, blinking as she tries to make her vision refocus, shaking sweaty hair out of her eyes. "Weiss?" She pants.
There's no response. The smaller woman only continues to lay motionless against the sheets, and finally Yang stills entirely. She stutters to a halt, shaking from the overload, blood buzzing around her ears. Jerkily, she pries her left hand open from where it's clenched around the back of her head, gripping her by the shoulder and pulling.
Weiss's head rolls bonelessly to the side. Her face rests limp against the bed, and the one eye she can see is closed, mouth hanging slightly open.
Yang stares for several long moments, mind full of static. And then she sags, letting her head fall forwards, chest heaving, and she has to brace her elbows against the mattress to keep from collapsing on her entirely. Weiss doesn't move, continuing to lay limp and defenseless beneath her.
Eventually, the heat burning through her veins dies down to something bearable, and her throat stops feeling like it's tearing itself apart with every ragged breath. Pushing herself upright, she wavers dangerously without the support of her arms before she tightens her muscles and cements her balance. With shaky fingers she tugs at the harness around her hips, pulling it loose and shoving it aside, dumping it to the floor.
Carefully, Yang sides her arms under Weiss and lifts her. It's harder than she'd expected, and her foot drags at the floor when she steps forwards, nearly sending her to the ground. The adrenaline is bleeding away like it's being leached out through her skin with her sweat, and it's wake leaves her feeling burnt out and hollowed, exhaustion dragging her down.
She gets her legs under her again, locks her knees and straightens up, because if she can't carry a hundred pound girl the three steps to the top of the bed then she's throwing in the towel forever.
Gripping a fistful of the sheets, she drags them loose from where they're tucked tightly around the mattress and slips Weiss underneath them, pulling them back up to her chin. She takes a moment to tug one of the pillows down, tucking it under her head before leaning back, pausing long enough to make sure she looks comfortable. And then Yang blows out a loud breath and lets herself fall, flopping down heavily onto the mattress next to her.
For a short, long while, she just lays there, staring up at the slowly spinning ceiling, waiting as the last of the vertigo continues to linger stubbornly, unwilling to lessen its grip. But as the final vestiges of the heat fade out of her it leaves her blood feeling lukewarm in her veins, sluggish and room temperature, and the air seems near freezing as it brushes across sweat-damp skin, and finally it has her moving, scooting back so that she can slide underneath the sheets. She wriggles down beneath them, pulling them up nearly to her ears, rubbing her legs back and forth to try to spark up some friction heat to stop the shivers she can feel building beneath her skin, and when she turns Weiss is exactly where she'd left her, not so much as twitching.
She's tiny in the massive bed, nearly swallowed up in the mattress, barely a ripple in the covers to show that she is underneath. Even asleep her face is slightly pinched, and there's tracks of liquid shimmering on her cheeks. She'd been crying, and the sight makes Yang's heart clench, the muscles in her neck spasming.
She'd never told her to stop- she'd threatened her, even, and deep down Yang knows that Weiss hadn't wanted her to. But that doesn't help the way her lungs tighten in her chest, like they're trying to choke her from the inside.
Cool moonlight slips in through the window behind the bed, slanting across her face. It seems to wash out the color, leaving her translucently pale against the black of the sheets. She really does look made of glass like this. A hollow sculpture, a mirage that might simply fade away at any moment. Carefully, Yang lifts up her left hand, fingertips just barely grazing as she pulls Weiss's hair out of her eyes, tucking it behind her ear, somehow relieved when she finds warm skin beneath her hand. It hovers there for a moment, before she presses her palm flat to her cheek, cupping the side of her face.
She's so small, like this, Yang thinks. So fragile, without all that ice and steel to cover her in thorns. Yang wets her lips, hesitating, before she leans in and kisses her.
Her lips are soft. Too soft, for someone as hard as her. They should cut when she touches them, full of teeth like blades, should freeze her breath in her lungs when she inhales. They shouldn't give so easily under her own, shouldn't make warmth bloom across the back of her neck.
The lines are gone from Weiss's face when she pulls away, her brow smoothing out and her jaw relaxes, lips slightly parted. She looks peaceful, for the first time. It eases the ache in Yang's chest, makes her breath come easier.
"It's alright now." Yang whispers to her. "I promise." She'd make it alright.
Maybe it's just her imagination, but in the dark, she thinks Weiss might be smiling.