With the strength of Blake's kiss outside, the desperate, forceful way lips and teeth claimed her skin, Yang half expects Blake to drag her, playful and rushed, up to her apartment, but instead, she waits. She waits for Yang to enter the building, and waits for the door to kick closed to hear the lock latch before turning. Holding viper-like to her hand, she leads Yang up the stairs at a silent and torturously steady pace.
Yang distracts herself by taking in the building where Blake lives. How many times had she wished to make it through that damn door? The stairwell isn't enclosed. There are no doors separating it from the halls of apartments so she has easy access to peer at the layout as Blake leads her silently on. The paint peels, open wounds showcasing the layers of multicolored skin, and the off-white appearance is more years of uncleaned grime than its intended shade. The stairs are a scuffed cherry-stained wood that creaks loudly with Yang's heavy tread, though they give silent way for Blake's more delicate steps.
Only when they mount the final stairs to the third floor does Blake tug Yang down the hall. The carpet is well worn under their feet, the central path stained dark with years of accumulating dirt. A musty aroma assails her and a hint of cigarette smoke wafts from a gap under one of the apartment doors. Someone's hacking cough is barely muted through poorly insulated walls.
Blake releases her hand when they reach her door. It's the same as all the rest—off-white and the paint of the top corner has peeled off: blue, green, red, all showing through. The numbers 3-0-6 are a dull brushed nickel and Blake has to press her shoulder to the door as the door sticks but eventually gives way. She steps through first, holding the door ajar for Yang to follow.
Blake won't meet her eye as she passes, and turns her back to secure it as soon as Yang is through.
The apartment is a simple rectangle and consists of only two rooms. The L-shaped one they've stepped into, and one other small one that rests directly to their left taking up half of the inner wall. Yang can only assume it's a bathroom. No lamps are lit in the interior but there is a soft gleam of moonlight seeping in through the two windows on the far wall that brighten the space enough for Yang to see by.
It's small, but clean. The stagnant stench of the hall washes away behind the closed door and is replaced with something more floral and sweet. A small bouquet of flowers resting on a small table, nestled between two unsimilar chairs. Their mismatched green upholstery is torn in spots and each has at least one dark blemish, remnants of stains from long ago. A thin purple throw drapes haphazardly over the comfier of the two, and a mug with a teabag resting on its saucer sits beside the flowers, in easy reach of the chair.
There's a kitchen space across from the small sitting corner. It holds an old, yellowed fridge and matching stove. They have dents and scratches, which are slowly being taken over by rust spots. The counters are an ugly pale pink and cupboards a dark forest green, a stark contrast to the appliances, but they, like the rest of the apartment, are meticulously clean. One drawer is missing a handle and one of the cupboard doors above is hanging off one hinge.
The corner across from the bathroom rests a small bed, a mattress held by a simple wooden frame. A single well worn bookshelf separates the two spaces, though to Yang's surprise, it's only half filled.
Remembering she's not alone, Yang searches the space and finds Blake simply watching her, leaning against the locked door they've only just entered.
"It's not much." Blake's voice is small and unsettled, though she's all poise as she pushes off the door when Yang beckons her with an outstretched hand.
"All I need is you." Yang breathes, pulling their bodies flush when Blake accepts her hand.
Chilled fingers trace lines along her forehead and jaw, amber eyes follow unerring. Trapping her hand against her cheek Yang hopes to warm Blake. Her's is the complete opposite of Yang's searing skin. It's almost imperceptible the way Blake melts further into her body's warmth, but Yang shivers as cold fingers brush the bare skin on her hip where Blake's other hand comes to rest, playing with the hem of her shirt.
"Sorry," Blake's apology comes quick after her reaction, though her hand thankfully remains where it is.
"Don't be," Yang says, before kissing her.
Blake returns her embrace. Lips move against hers, fingers pressing into her cheek and hip, but Yang can feel her hesitation. There's a reluctance that wasn't there when they'd kissed outside. Yang pulls back and unlike other times she's tried to end their connection, Blake doesn't try to prolong it. Her eyes shift from Yang to the corner where her bed rests.
Blake's second-guessing her decision.
Closing her eyes, Yang breathes deep, trying to tamp down her arousal. Blake's hand still grasps at her shirt tightly, but it's not in passionate desperation, but to anchor herself. Yang takes another breath.
"We don't have to do anything you don't want." Her words seem to reverberate off the walls in the small apartment, or perhaps it's just within her own mind. She struggles to spit the final words from her throat, her only half-tamped arrousal warring with her heart. "I won't be upset. If you want me to leave… I will."
Blake balks, body jerking at Yang's words as she comes back from whatever prison her mind had trapped her in. "That's not what I want."
"Then what is it you want?" It's embarrassing how strained her voice comes out, equal parts beggar and control.
Blake weighs her words, then pulls her hand from Yang's face. Stepping back, her eyes take in every inch of Yang's body. It is both unnerving and thrilling. Delicate hands are on her hips now, fingers gripping the bottom of her shirt. Blake tugs once before slipping both hands under the fabric, cool palms glide over her sides, fingers dancing along her ribs as they raise her shirt up. Yang catches on and lifts her arms, allowing Blake to rid her of the article all together.
"I want you," The simple answer comes before her lips brush lightly over the newly exposed skin of Yang's collarbone. Her mouth blazes a trail up the hollow of Yang's throat. Teasing lips suck the lobe of her ear and Yang moans, feeling the graze of Blake's sharp teeth. "Now."
Her tone is no longer unsure. It's Yang's only warning before hands press strongly into her ribs. She stumbles back, tries to catch her footing, but is unfamiliar with the space. Blake follows, hands reaching to guide her in her unstable retreat. Balance found in one final step to right herself, but her foot catches and her knee buckles. Her stomach lurches into her throat as she crashes to the ground. Her arm swings frantically to find purchase on anything to save her but the only thing within reach is Blake, who leans away from her grasp. A soft mattress catches her instead of the hardened floorboards. With a racing heart she looks up with wide eyes. The predatory way Blake looks down on her, eyes roaming every exposed curve of her body, causes Yang to shudder in an entirely different way to her cold fingers a moment ago.
Thighs trap her hips and hands map the newly exposed skin of her stomach and ribs. Yang's move automatically to grip Blake's thighs, though she's not sure if it's to steady Blake or ground herself. And then Blake kisses her. There's no more modest reluctance, their lips meet without hesitation. Blake's tongue urges Yang's lips to part, and she obliges willingly.
Her hand snakes beneath Yang's body, unhooking her bra and pulling it from her in one swift movement. Yang only removes her hands from Blake long enough for her to slip the straps off her shoulders. The ease of the simple action shoots an unexpected shock of pleasure to Yang's core.
The cold air of Blake's apartment constricts her already hardened nipples almost painfully. But hands—now warm from their exploits across her heated skin—come up to cup her breasts, thumbs brushing experimentally over the stiff peaks. Yang throws her head back into the mattress and tries unsuccessfully to swallow a high-pitched whine escaping her throat. Blake's mouth is on hers, swallowing the sound as if providing her a long denied sustenance.
Relaxing into the mattress as her erratic heartbeats change from fear to arousal, Yang's hands start to wander. It becomes clear that Blake still has on too much clothing. Her hands tug at the bottom of Blake's shirt. Their kiss is broken and Blake throws her top over her head and behind her without a care before her lips latch onto the skin above Yang's left breast and her hands track the lines of her abs. She hums her approval as her hands flatten over the rippling expanse.
Yang's hands raise on Blake's hips, gliding along each side of her waist and Blake's mouth releases her skin with a pop, gasping at her touch. Yang shivers as her breath races to cool the damp skin her mouth's left so suddenly behind.
Although she can't complain at Blake's sudden switch into the assertive, Yang desperately wants to not only touch her, but to see her. And she can't see anything in the position Blake has her in. So when Blake dips her head to place a soft kiss to the blemish Yang's sure her mouth has left, she wraps one strong arm around Blake and bucks her hips up forceful enough to upset her balance.
A surprised squeak from Blake has a chuckle rumbling up from deep in Yang's chest. Knees press to the back of Blake's thighs until she scoots up to rest her head on the pillow above her. Slowly draping her weight over Blake she connects their lips again. It's full of tongue and teeth, a war for dominance that Blake's not seemingly willing to give up, even with her body pinned so securely underneath Yang.
Pulling her arm from beneath Blake, her hand starts to wander across her side again. Blake's head presses into the pillow as her lips rip from Yang's in another silent gasp. She doesn't mind, her lips easily find purchase on any exposed skin instead. Peppering velvet kisses along Blake's jaw, traveling across her taught throat, feeling the muscles contract as Blake struggles to swallow. She drags her teeth along the sharp projection of Blake's collarbone, which elicits the most glorious whimper from the woman beneath her.
Her fingers find the hollow expanse of Blake's stomach below her ribcage,l before tracing higher over the wave of ribs above; the skin sticks taut to the bone beneath, and Yang dips her head, running her tongue just north of Blake's bra to try to swallow a sob that threatens to come up at the knowledge her wandering hand brings her. Scars, divots in what should be a smooth unscathed expanse are soon brought to light as Yang's fingers dance lightly over pale skin.
Not wanting to distract Blake with her own internal struggles, she reaches beneath her again, unhooking her bra, with admittedly more difficulty than Blake had rid her of hers. Yang blames the distractions within her mind, and leans up to pull the fabric from her body. Her eyes find Blake's before lowering, captivated by the rise and fall of Blake's heaving chest. It's Blake that hastily tosses the bra aside, patience waning waiting for Yang to act. Her hands weave through Yang's hair, threading together at the nape of her neck as she pulls Yang's mouth back to her skin.
Her lips are gentle as she places kisses over the new skin. Her tongue comes out to run a circle around one of the darkened peaks. Blake shifts, digging her nails into the nape of Yang's neck, lifting her hips to press into Yang's toned stomach hovering above her. A disgruntled noise follows as the fabric of her jeans thwart her attempts to increase the pressure.
Ignoring her wants of pressure below, Yang lavishes every inch of Blake's breasts with more kisses and soft breaths, she engulfs a nipple within her mouth when Blake arches her back and digs her nails deeper into Yang's neck, bringing her mouth exactly where she needs it. Yang teases the stiff flesh, pressing lips and tongue in gentle reverence as her hand brushes lightly over her hip, her sides, and cones to gently cup her breast.
Blake sighs, clearly frustrated. "I'm not going to break," she says, but won't look at Yang as she lifts her head from her chest.
Yang's eyes find the outline of ribs, the protrusion of hip bones. Blake's slender, and not in a healthy way. Her eyes also find the scars. They splatter across her frame like raindrops on pavement. Some are mere pale dots from small cuts, others are long gashes and the darkened skin wrinkles over the old wounds.
She will admit, her first reaction to be gentle with Blake was due to the frailty of her frame—and her own assumptions of Blake's preferences—but taking a second look, accompanied by the irritation in the way Blake lifts her chin, defiantly refusing to meet her eye; all the scars prove is that Blake is a survivor. Going against her initial reactions, Yang tests her by pressing her palm more firmly into the flesh of Blake's breast. Her mouth engulfs her nipple again, this time she sucks harder, letting her teeth scrape Blake's flesh. She's rewarded with a gratified moan.
"That what you want?" Yang asks, raking her nails firmly down Blake's side, over the undulation of ribs, the dip of her waist, all the way down until her fingers find the leather of Blake's belt on her hip.
Releasing a held breath, "Yes," Blake's voice wavers in desperation. "I want to…feel."
Yang captures her lips as the words leave them. Taking Blake's bottom lip into her mouth, this time she bites down sharply as Blake had done to her multiple times. Blake whimpers as her hips lift off the mattress again.
"Okay," Yang breathes against Blake's reddening lips.
Blake's eyes question her as they clear from a pleasured fog.
"You want to feel." It's a statement but Blake nods through the arousal fogging her brain.
Yang sits back on her heels, between Blake's knees, dark amber eyes watching her every movement. Grasping at the buckle of Blake's jeans, Yang quickly loosens the leather, pulling at the fabric to release the button of her black jeans before lowering the zipper. Blake nods once when Yang's eyes find hers, asking permission as her hands hover at the waist of her jeans. She tugs and Blake lifts her hips, gasping as the cold air assaults her bare skin. Her lip is captured by sharp teeth as she looks to Yang in surprise, not expecting her to rid her of it all, all at once.
"Then—" She stalls, running a hand up each of Blake's legs, fingers dipping into the soft crease at the back of each of her knees, thumbs daring to dip deep along Blake's inner thighs. Yang can feel her wetness already coating her skin. "I'll make you, feel" one palm comes to hover over Blake's sex. She lifts her hips, boldly seeking that pressure now that all her barriers have been removed, but Yang pulls back, not giving her what she wants. Blake chokes on a desperate whine as her hips lower back to the mattress. Yang waits until Blake's eyes find hers. "Everything," she punctuates the word by pressing her palm firmly into Blake. Her hips roll forward to increase the contact and she moans, arm coming up so she can bite the back of her hand to muffle the sound.
Yang leans over Blake's body, swatting at Blake's hand still held hostage by her mouth. Blake removes it, turning to find Yang's eyes. She reaches out at the same time Yang surges forward to connect their lips fiercely. One of Blake's hands cradle Yang's jaw as if needing that purchase to ground her, one wraps around Yang's back, nails trailing from her shoulder all the way to the top of Yang's jeans.
"Off," she growls, pulling at a belt loop. The demand dies in her throat as Yang adjusts her hand, running her fingers expertly over her slick heat. Two fingers circle her clit and Blake cries out in pleasure.
She tugs again at the belt loop but when Yang presses the same two fingers into her in a single swift motion Blake forgets her request. Blake's eyes connect with hers, and Yang sees something familiar but altogether new in the way Blake looks at her. It's only a brief moment, before her lips seek Yang's hovering not far away, and her eyes close as they come together.
Yang finds a rhythm that makes Blake moan in time with her actions. Her hips roll with each thrust of her hand, fingers slipping easily in and out with how wet Blake is. The knowledge that Yang did this to her, that she was responsible for Blake's arousal pulls a moan from her the next time Blake's throat vibrates as Yang's fingers press deeper and with more urgency.
"Yang," Blake moans her name as she throws her head back, breaths coming in shattering gasps. "I-I'm so close."
Yang knows. She can feel the way Blake's walls constrict and spasm around her fingers, but it's so sexy to hear her say it, and Yang can feel her own arousal ignite further, a need for her own release growing. Curling her fingers on the next thrust and Blake's hips lift off the mattress for a full three seconds before muscles relax. Yang continues and Blake finds her pace rocking into her again as Yang busy's her mouth with placing wet kisses and gentle bites on whatever of Blake's skin is within reach.
Blake pulls at her, one hand at the back of her neck and the other between her shoulder blades, with such force that Yang's propped arm gives out and she crashes on top of Blake's sweat-slicked body. Her thrusts halt in her surprise and Blake moans her displeasure, canting her hips, pleading Yang to continue. Which she does, but not before releasing a quick quip, "You caused that."
"You—ugh…too far," is all Blake replies between ragged breaths, groaning contentedly as Yang's thrusts start up again.
She kisses Yang again, deep and sensual, but their new position has Blake craning her neck up at an angle too sharp to hold for long. Her lips fall to her jaw, her neck, to the warm, soft skin of Yang's breast within easy reach. She kisses the spot Yang's sure is already blue with her previous ministrations, swiping her tongue over it with a pleased hum.
Twisting her wrist only enough to press her thumb into Blake's clit she starts drawing tight circles with every thrust and curl of her fingers. The new position makes it hard to keep up the angle of her thrusts as her arm is trapped, cramped between their bodies, but Yang would rather lose the whole arm than stop before Blake climaxes, so she continues, gritting her teeth through the quickly forming cramp in her forearm.
Blake's hips spasm as she quickly returns to the brink of her orgasm.
"Yang." Her name followed by quiet whimpers, gives Yang the remaining strength to push through her own discomfort.
Lashes of half-lidded eyes flutter, and Blake's chest presses into Yang's and nails dig into her back. A sharp canine traps the corner of her lip as a long drawn out moan reaches Yang's ears. Everything is just too much: the noises Blake makes; how her muscles constrict around her fingers; the way Blake's naked body presses close. Yang wants to kiss her, wants to prolong this feeling, wants too much. But the pleading way Blake looks at her the next second, Yang knows she doesn't have it in her to deny Blake's pleasure. She doubts she has it in her to deny Blake anything at this point.
"Blake," Yang gasps above her. "Gods, you're beautiful."
Blake cries out again, this time her body tensing, hips lifting with such force Yang is jostled above her. She's carefully aware of fingers still inside Blake, and can only press slow lazy circles to her clit, allowing Blake to ride out the aftershocks of her orgasm.
As her hips hit the mattress with a satisfied moan, Blake's mouth surges to capture the bruised mark on Yang's chest. Her teeth sink in just enough for Yang to freeze in her ministrations, knowing pulling back is not an option with Blake's teeth latched to her skin.
"Fuck," Yang's pained hiss is what brings Blake back to herself. She looks just as shocked as Yang feels and pulls her mouth and teeth away from sensitive skin.
Yang retreats just enough to observe Blake beneath her. Blake's hand covers the spot gently. Soft eyes find Yang's hesitantly. Her brow creases in worry, fearful of Yang's reaction. Yang sighs, letting the shock of the act wash away. She presses her lips to the deep creases of Blake's forehead before smoothing them with a swipe of her thumb. Her lips place chaste kisses over Blake's face, finally finding her lips. She presses them to Blake's three times before the tense body beneath her melts and lips move against hers.
She can still feel the throb of damaged skin, but it fades as Blake deepens their kiss. Her hand moves to cup the back of Yang's neck, fingers massaging the flesh. Yang can feel the sensitive spots where Blake's nails dug into the same area beneath Blake's now gentle fingers, and is sure she has more than one crescent shaped puncture.
Blake sits up, hooking a leg around Yang's knee, and flips them on the mattress. Her actions are so precise, so smooth it actually impresses Yang, not only at the deftness of her movements, but at the strength she shows being able to manipulate Yang's larger frame so easily. Blake's actions aren't rushed anymore, she kisses Yang in a sultry way, lips firm and teasing, but not harsh. Her tongue explores, twisting and dancing with Yang's, pulling guttural moans from Yang's throat and swallowing them.
She whimpers as Blake pulls away, and it's only when Blake reaches to unbutton her jeans that she realizes she's still half clothed. She's never been overly modest of her appearance, she's never been shy about showing off her body when she chooses to, but the way Blake's eyes scan her curves once the last article of clothing is removed makes her squirm. If there was anything Yang could ask for now, it would be to know what is going on in Blake's head.
Soft hands run the length of Yang's legs, not unlike her own touches earlier. They land on the mattress on either side of Yang's hips before Blake's body is covering hers, her weight a comforting presence. Shyness forgotten, Yang guides Blake's lips to cover hers again, humming into the kiss.
But soon lips leave hers as Blake's mouth ghosts over her skin, as if she's trying to kiss every last inch of Yang's body.
It's embarrassing how turned on the soft caresses gets her. Blake barely touches her, and not really in any of the areas of her body that should be affected, but Yang wriggles beneath her in pleasure. Once more a soft kiss is placed on her bruised skin in apology. Blake's lips wrap around the hardened nipple of Yang's uninjured breast, sucking gently and Yang's chest rumbles in appreciation.
Blake's mouth continues its descent, tongue trailing over her abs. It's only when Blake grazes her teeth gently against Yang's hip bone that her destination becomes clear to Yang.
"Fuck, Blake." Yang moans hips already raising to meet Blake's mouth. Blake doesn't tease her, and Yang's grateful. She's much too aroused from hearing and watching Blake's own orgasm to stand being teased.
A tongue swipes experimentally along her wet folds, then again, and again. Blake moans as she lets her mouth envelope Yang's heat, flattening her tongue against Yang's clit. Yang's back arches at the sensation and Blake is quick to press palms into Yang's hips to still them. Dipping her head Blake finds the source of Yang's wetnes. Her mouth retreats when Yang throws her head back, Blake's name falling from her lips effortlessly.
Yang groans at the loss of contact and searches Blake's eyes for the reason for her halting. Blake keeps her eye, placing a soft kiss to Yang's inner thigh before lifting her head. "Say it again?"
Yang is quick to place a hand at the top of Blake's head, wrapping fingers in dark curls and tugging her mouth back to where she is desperate for release. Blake doesn't deny her.
"Blake." Yang moans her name again, watching Blake's arousal darken her eyes further. She briefly wonders if she should be at all worried with Blake's mouth and teeth so close to her most sensitive skin, but she can't find it in her to care, not when Blake's being overly gentle in her actions, purposeful in her utilization of her tongue and lips. The only forceful action is her fingers digging into Yang's thighs when she traps Blake's head between them a little too energetically in her pleasure.
It's mortifying how close she already is, like she's some horny teenager that can't last longer than a few minutes, but Blake somehow knows every single way to touch her. And when she presses two fingers into her center, it only takes a few thrusts and a curl of her fingers in exactly the right spot for Yang to come undone. Her thighs squeeze the sides of Blake's head, her hand remains wrapped in Blake's hair, pulling her closer, not wanting her to stop too soon. Her legs shake and breaths turn erratic before she's suddenly unable to breathe at all. She moans as a wave of pleasure crashes over her, starting with a singeing burn from her toes to an almost painful shock from her clit when Blake sucks on it gently. She's suddenly falling, sinking beneath the waves of her ecstacy.
She can feel Blake's steady rhythm of thrusts as she tries to prolong Yang's orgasm but when her lips brush her clit again Yang is pushing her mouth away from her hypersensitive nerves. "Too much." It falls out quivering as her diaphragm constricts sporadically along with her other trembling muscles.
Blake crawls up her body, fingers still pumping gently inside of her to press lips to hers and Yang tries to reciprocate, but she doesn't have enough control over her body to make it respond the way she wants. Blake removes her fingers and Yang keens at their loss.
Her entire body is buzzing. Her tongue wets her lips as she swallows past the pleasant knot in her throat. Her exhale is more a contented hum than a breath as she feels Blake's warm skin beneath her fingers as they trail lazily across her back. As Blake's warmth retreats Yang tightens her hold, not wanting to give up this feeling just yet. Blake's amused chuckle greets her before the comforter below her is tugged sharply.
Yang groans but complies, knowing Blake's probably getting cold. She lifts her hips so the covers can be lowered, allowing her to slip her feet under the sheets. Blake drapes herself along Yang's side, one leg wrapping around Yang's thigh, as she brings the blankets up to cover them both.
Blake kisses her softly, lips not fully retreating as they tickle Yang's own before pressing firmly together again in another gentle kiss. When she retreats further after a few more, Yang finally finds the strength to open her eyes. A tender look from Blake is what greets her, and Yang smiles, completely captivated by it.
Blake's hands still wander over her skin, comparable to the way Yang's fingers draw pictures the length of Blake's spine. They travel across her stomach, dipping in the hollow space above her hips before making their way up her ribs, across her sternum and between her breasts. It's kind of calming showering each other in these silent affections, but the moment is broken when Blake's fingers brush against the bruise on her left breast and Yang winces, sucking a sharp breath through clenched teeth.
Blake goes rigid, pulling her hand away as if she'd been bit instead of the other way around. Pulling the sheets from her chest to examine the mark, Blake's fingers hover over the blemish encircling it, measuring it.
"I'm sorry," she murmurs, eyes glued to the damaged skin.
"Don't be." Yang tells her, gently grazing her nails along Blake's side. "It'll heal and it was actually kind of hot."
Blake hums content with her response, placing a soft kiss over the swollen angry mark. "I'd still like to make it up to you." She looks up imploringly.
"I think you have." Yang raises an eyebrow and runs her nails firmly from Blake's hip up to her shoulder blade. Being in bed with a naked Blake is more than enough payment for any kind of injury. But an injury caused by Blake in a moment of passion is not something Yang wants an apology for, she'll wear it as a badge of honour.
"And yet, I'd still have you name your price." She goes back to trailing her soft lips along her collarbone, and Yang understands her meaning immediately, but there is only one thing she wants. There's only one thing Yang hasn't had the guts to ask from her.
"Will you sing for me?"
Blake stops her trail of kisses, her ears perk, like she's not sure she's heard her correctly. "What?"
"If I must request something of you, I'd love to hear you sing again. I haven't been able to stop thinking about it since that first night." Yang ducks her head sheepishly, knowing that's not the type of payment Blake was implying.
Blake's brow furrows and she sits up, sheets falling from her frame as cold air rushes in to chill both their naked forms. Yang's not sure if she should take the words back or not, but when Blake slips from the bed fully Yang feels she's made some fatal error. The last time Blake sang for her was a time of fear and uncertainty, it wasn't the same revered memory that Yang carries with her. Of course Blake wasn't in a hurry to relive that.
Blake bends to pull her underwear back on and Yang sits up, trying to think of how to erase the last moments and go back to the relaxing afterglow they were basking in. But when Blake throws on Yang's t-shirt instead of her own discarded one, Yang knows she's not about to kick her out and begins to relax. The shirt is oversized for Blake's smaller frame and it hangs low, not quite to mid thigh, but close.
Blake tugs the bottom of the shirt, looking down at the print across her chest before kneeling beside the bed. Yang feels a swelling in her chest as she looks at Blake wearing her clothing. She likes it, but wonders if she's underdressed now, still naked, while Blake is half clothed. But with Blake wearing her shirt, there aren't many options for her to cover herself, so she just pulls the sheets back up over her chest.
Blake reaches under the bed and pulls a guitar case from its depths. She flips the clasps and pulls the guitar out. Pushing the case out of the way and back under the bed. She stands, instrument in hand.
Yang stares, transfixed as Blake looks around her small space. Her shoulders finally lift in a settled way before stepping over Yang's legs to sit on the windowsill above the foot of the bed. The moonlight frames her silhouette from where Yang lays back, head propped up on a pillow. She turns, facing away from Yang's probing eyes and brings one leg up to rest on the window frame while the other balances her, firmly placed on the mattress beside Yang's knee.
Her arms cradle the guitar, the body resting on her hip. Blake's eyes close as she strums the strings, checking their tone out of habit. They're still in tune from her impromptu concert weeks ago. Nimble fingers flit over the strings, the same notes replay thrice before Blake finds the lyrics within her mind.
Yang holds her breath as she starts to sing.
"I feel you in these walls,
You're a cold air creeping in
Chill me to my bones and skin."
Her head lifts, eyes turn to look out into the night sky. The moon caresses her skin, makes it glow. Her soft melodic voice only adds to the illusion of the ethereal.
"I heard you down the hall,
But it's vacant when I'm looking in
Who let you in?
You walk around like you own the place
But you never say anything
I caught you walking straight through my walls
Guess it was all my fault
I think I let you in"
There's a pause in her playing and the last words seem to echo in the space between them. Her eyes fall to her instrument again, fingers finding another hold as her strokes strengthen to match her vocals in the chorus.
"Never thought that I would feel like this
Such a mess when I'm in your presence
I've had enough, I think you've been making me sick
Gotta get you out of my system
It's my house
And I think it's time to get out
It's my soul
It isn't yours anymore
It's my house
And I think it's time to get out
Yeah, I think it's time to get out"
She scans the shadows of her apartment. Her glowing irises flit around the room, seeing something Yang can't quite fathom—a memory maybe, or perhaps a scene of reality that isn't theirs.
"You're at my bedroom door
Heard your footsteps on the floor
Closer than ever before
And now you're in my room
You're a cold air creeping through
Under sheets avoiding you"
She finds Yang's eyes watching her. She keeps her gaze as she continues her song.
"You walk around I can hear you pace
Circling my bed frame
But now we're face to face
Head on my pillowcase"
She smiles softly at the parallel to their situation. But just as quickly she turns away, smile turning sad.
"But darling, you can't stay"
Again the song builds into the chorus. Blake turns back to the window, letting the light soak into her skin once more, but she pictures another sight behind closed eyes.
"Never thought that I would feel like this
Such a mess when I'm in your presence
I've had enough, I think you've been making me sick
Gotta get you out of my system
It's my house
And I think it's time to get out
It's my soul
It isn't yours anymore
It's my house
And I think it's time to get out
Yeah, I think it's time to get out"
She doesn't look at Yang when she finishes. She doesn't even move. Her eyes turn to her guitar, her fingers trace the outline of the pickguard. It's eerily quiet without the vibration of guitar strings or Blake's voice filling the room.
Yang knows the lyrics mean so much more to their situation. She can tell Blake's been questioning things. But how long ago did she write this? Did she still feel the same way now, after what they'd just shared? Or had her worries been eased in the last days?
"Do you want me to go?" Yang asks limply, not knowing how else to frame her thoughts.
Blake finally looks up, turns so she can face Yang without having to stretch to see her over her shoulder. Her head tilts in a way that tells Yang she's studying her, looking for something Yang's never able to understand. All she can do is sit there under Blake's scrutiny and hope she passes whatever test it is.
The guitar is set aside, leaning against the wall at the foot of the bed. Torturously slow, Blake crawls her way back into bed, slipping between the sheets to mold herself into Yang's side. She buries her face into the soft crook of Yang's shoulder. Her breath tickles, making the hair at the back of Yang's neck stand on end.
"Not yet," she states simply, wrapping her arm around Yang's middle.
Yang releases a breath she wasn't aware she was holding and tugs Blake more firmly against her side. If she only gets this one night, she's going to savour it for as long as she possibly can.
But she desperately hopes this isn't the last time she finds Blake in her arms.