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“Emerald. We need to talk. Meet me in my room.” Cinder's voice had gotten better, across weeks of practice. Deep in the bowels of Salem's living fortress, waiting for their chance to strike Atlas, Cinder had found her voice again. It wasn't the same voice she'd had before Beacon, not the seductive inevitability that dripped from every word. She still rasped if she spoke too long or tried to shout. Selfishly, Emerald almost hoped that her voice never recovered completely. Whatever injury she'd suffered made her speak with a husky undertone, and it made Emerald weak at the knees.
She dutifully followed Cinder into the depths of the whale, and tried to ignore that that was what she was doing. They'd been living in a Grimm so massive it could crush a good chunk of Beacon on its own for nearly two months now. Cinder's return had made the whole thing more bearable, if only just. Their talks helped a lot, too.
Or, rather, talk was the wrong word. That involved too many actual words. They preferred gasps of pleasure and moans of worship. Emerald did, at any rate. Cinder spoke sometimes, growling orders, her voice just barely recovered enough to sound human. Sometimes Emerald wondered if the Grimm tendrils that made up Cinder's arm had begun to work their way into her throat, her vocal cords. It sure sounded like it sometimes.
It had started as talking. It really had, discussing strategy and cursing their erstwhile foes in team RWBY. Emerald had made a poorly thought out point, something about their inability to stop a gaggle of teenagers. Suddenly, Cinder had shoved her up against the wall, arm across her throat, snarling into Emerald's face. She didn't remember what had been said, mostly because her body had flushed with heat so quickly and violently that she'd nearly forgotten all sense and survival instincts entirely and lunged forward to kiss Cinder full on.
Nearly.
She rather thought that she'd be dead if she had.
Cinder had stormed away, loudly swearing brutal deaths on everyone who'd ever wronged her. Apparently Emerald’s reaction hadn't gone unnoticed, because the next time Cinder shoved her into a wall she'd gone the extra mile and left a half dozen hickies up and down her neck. They'd stopped lying to themselves about what these ‘talks’ really were, and subsequently about the need for clothing during said ‘talks’.
Emerald had seen Cinder naked before. It had been unavoidable, squatting in a one room shack in Vacuo after joining forces, and then again when they’d shared a bathroom in Salem’s castle. Maybe it was indifference, or maybe it was the fact that Salem hadn’t needed to play host for who knew how long, but she had definitely underestimated the amount of utilities needed by her growing host of soldiers. Beacon had been much the same, with one large bathroom for all four students on a student team, but that was by design. Psychologically, it made everything easier for a team when they were used to every aspect of the lives of their teammates. So, in the end, Emerald was more than familiar with what Cinder looked like naked. She just hadn’t realized that the closest she’d ever come to religion was using her tongue to trace the battle scars up and down Cinder’s body.
Today proved no exception. Emerald braced herself against the wall as her lips were captured by Cinder’s, her hands roaming the expanse of Cinder’s back, fingertips catching on scar tissue and the outline of hard muscles. Cinder’s shirt was already off, hanging from her waist as part of the regal, if convoluted, clothing she wore. Emerald had tossed her own jacket aside the moment the door closed behind them, but Cinder had stopped her from taking off her shirt, or even touching her pants. Her chaps, Emerald’s mind supplied unhelpfully, in Mercury’s know-it-all tone whenever discussing anything to do with lower body fashion. Getting used to hiding his legs had made him something of an exp-
Emerald groaned as Cinder tweaked her nipple through her shirt. Hands made strong from years of combat ignored the numbness provided by clothing, and then again as Cinder’s semblance flared, a pulse of heat shooting from her fingers into Emerald’s breast.
“Stop drifting,” Cinder hissed, “Focus on me.” Emerald rolled her head forward, nearly cracking their foreheads together, but stopping just short as she found herself paralyzed under the imperious golden glow of Cinder’s eye. She screamed at herself to respond, and her lips barely managed to move, almost in spite of herself.
“Yes ma’am,” she blurted out. Cinder rolled her eyes, and Emerald could move again. She immediately set to work, running a calloused finger under Cinder’s breasts and drawing a sharp, satisfied intake of breath.
“Close enough.” She preferred being called things like ‘mistress’ or ‘goddess’ when they were together like this. That she hadn’t snapped at Emerald for forgetting meant that something was going right today, but Emerald wasn’t foolish enough to think that something was her. She cupped Cinder’s breasts, slowly rolling her thumbs around her nipples. A choked grunt caught in Cinder’s throat, and she seemed to swallow it back down with a physical effort. She grabbed Emerald by the waist, tugging her closer, and Emerald took the opportunity to sink her head into the crook of Cinder’s neck. She sucked on the sensitive skin and Cinder caught another sound with her teeth. This time, Emerald felt the motion as Cinder forced the sound back down into her chest. “Arms up,” Cinder said, voice catching on itself just enough that it would annoy her.
Emerald hurried to comply, slapping her arms above her head and holding her left wrist in her right hand. The pose left her open, exposed, and entirely vulnerable. Exactly the way that Cinder liked her, and exactly the way that Emerald liked to be. She took and took and took just to stay alive. It was nice to be taken, to be desired. If she had to expose all of her vital organs to a woman with an arm made of life-hating flesh, so be it.
The Grimm arm twitched as Cinder lifted it up, slowly tracing a claw down Emerald’s chest. Emerald fought back a shudder. She hated that thing. She hated the thought of what would happen if Cinder found out.
Cinder traced her claw back up Emerald’s chest, catching the ruffles of her top. “How attached are you to this shirt?”
“I’ve got another one just like it,” Emerald lied. Similar, sure, but not the same. She liked this shirt. It was her lucky shirt. It was about to be ribbons on the floor.
Cinder sliced back down, and Emerald’s shirt fell apart, a single clean cut running from top to bottom. It fell to the ground, and Emerald suddenly felt a bit self conscious that she’d chosen to wear a bra the same color as her shirt. She remembered that she’d gotten it because it matched her hair, and wanted to die. Cinder tsked lightly, slipping a claw under the front clasp. “Cute,” she drawled, and flicked her finger, cutting clean through the clasp. Emerald gasped as the ever-cold air inside the whale swept over her exposed breasts, then again as Cinder grabbed her left breast with her human hand. Cinder grinned wolfishly, and her hand glowed red. Heat flooded Emerald’s breast and she shrieked as it nearly got hot enough to burn, forcing herself not to struggle away, knowing that it would only get hotter if she tried. Cinder didn’t take failure well, and she especially didn’t take disobedience well. Emerald wanted to hurl herself forward and absolutely maul Cinder’s breasts, to tear off her pants and feast until she made Cinder see stars. Doing so without orders was almost unthinkable.
“Cinder…please…” she whispered instead.
Another pulse of heat, cooler than the first but no less intense. “Please what?”
Emerald groaned, melting under the heat of Cinder’s hand and collapsing under the weight of her gaze. “Fuck me. Please.” No sooner had she spoken than did Cinder pull back completely. Emerald pulled herself together enough to watch through bleary eyes as Cinder sat on her bed, legs spread wide.
Of all the things that Cinder had learned over her long, painful life, asking for help was not one of them. She demanded, and was obeyed. This was no different. Emerald sank to her knees between Cinder’s legs, gingerly reaching up to tug down her pants. A few moments later, Cinder was fully naked, aside from her shirt still hanging off around her waist. As ever, and in direct disobedience that Emerald would never regret, she took a moment to appreciate the full scope of Cinder’s body. A lithe, powerful frame led down to well-sized breasts and a firm core, traced up and down with scars. Lower, and powerful thighs provided an unwavering strength, made even stronger now that she had to compensate for flying and landing at speed. Emerald picked up one of her legs, slinging her knee over her shoulder, then the other, and turned her attention to the real priority: making Cinder feel so good she passed out.
Emerald shuffled closer and reached out a tentative hand, gently running a finger down Cinder’s cock. It didn’t react much, didn’t even get hard after all these years of pills and literal cosmic magic. When they’d met, Cinder had bought or stolen her pills from a handful of drug designers she knew. Now that she had the power of the Fall Maiden, she’d stopped taking pills but her transition hadn’t slowed. Emerald suspected that she used the same magic that gave her flight to change herself at a molecular level. She wondered if Cinder even knew she was doing it. Apparently, after a while, the powers of the Maiden became so instinctual that you barely had to reach for them at all. The mind wandered, and the magic reacted.
A huff of impatience brought her back to the moment, and Emerald leaned forward, gently kissing Cinder’s cock. The huff turned into a hiss of appreciation, and Emerald continued. She massaged Cinder’s thighs absent mindedly, both to give her hands something to do and to relax Cinder in case she orgasmed. The last time that happened without proper relaxation, she’d nearly choked Emerald unconscious before she got enough control back to pry her thighs open. Emerald ran her tongue up Cinder’s balls, and from there a long, slow swipe up the bottom of her cock, delighting in the fact that, this time, Cinder couldn’t stop herself from crying out.
She continued, working over every inch of Cinder’s cock with practiced care, slowly working her way across the entire thing. With every kiss, every stroke, every lick, she drew another sound from Cinder’s lips. Sliding forward, she held Cinder’s cock in her mouth, drawing lazy circles around it with her tongue. The sounds that Cinder was making could be described as needy, if Emerald felt bold enough to think that Cinder would ever admit to needing anything. As though seeking an answer to her own unspoken question, Emerald flicked the tip of Cinder’s cock with her tongue and Cinder barked out a groan.
“Emerald!” she gasped out, and Emerald knew that was the signal to make Cinder cum. She refused, pulling back her ministrations at the height of pleasure and slowly working Cinder back down. Genty, carefully, she guided the beautiful woman above her back and forth, keeping her on edge, keeping her waiting. Risky, no doubt, but in the moment Emerald didn’t much care. She drank in the sounds of Cinder’s pleasure and burned them into her memory, reverently pulling more and more from the depths of Cinder’s being.
Playing only lasted so long. A cold slime grabbed her shoulder, and Emerald looked up to meet Cinder’s eye. In between the bouts of lust and desire, rage smoldered in that golden gaze. Claws pricked Emerald’s skin, just enough to remind her of their sharpness. Cinder’s voice came out a low, husky growl.
“Stop fucking around.”
Emerald flicked her tongue once more and Cinder’s head snapped back as she came, shrieks echoing throughout the room, devoured by the flesh walls of the whale. A small dribble of cum rolled out of Cinder’s cock and Emerald swallowed it without a thought. She pulled back, adopting a cocky grin that she knew would make Cinder annoyed in that friendly way she sometimes had.
Gasping for air, Cinder fell backwards onto the bed. Her Grimm arm stretched as she fell, clinging to Emerald as though for stability. Emerald stood, grabbing a canteen and taking a deep pull. She ignored that the arm still clung to her, no matter how far she went from the bed. It only retracted when she sat next to Cinder, flopping across her waist and slowly pulling back to her side. With her human arm, Cinder snatched the offered canteen and drank deep. So deep, in fact, that she finished it entirely, tossing it aside. Emerald watched it go, turning back to find Cinder all but glaring up at her.
“On your back. I’m going to fuck your brains out.” Emerald did not hesitate to react, tossing her pants off as she went, leaving her boxers on. She knew that Cinder liked to tear those off herself.
True to form, Cinder rolled onto her stomach and wound up between Emerald’s legs, pushing herself up onto her elbows. She crawled forward, eye never leaving Emerald’s, and grabbed the hem of her boxers with her teeth. Slowly, gently, she pulled the down, down, down, Emerald’s breath catching in her throat with each inch of skin they revealed. They caught on her thighs, and Cinder snarled in the back of her throat. She reared back, ripping Emerald’s boxers open entirely and revealing her thoroughly wet pussy.
“Finally,” Cinder growled. Her eye flared gold, and the now familiar thrum of magic flowed through the room. The power of the Fall Maiden, used to fly, to create explosions, to build weapons from nothing, concentrated around Cinder’s waist. Within the span of a blink, Cinder had fashioned herself a cock made of glass. Emerald could not stop a desperate gasp from slipping between her lips, nor the brutal need from surging through her body as Cinder’s gaze grew predatory. She paused, long enough for Emerald to shove her hips a hair closer, as much of an ask for consent that Cinder ever gave her.
Cinder slowly rolled her hips forward, just enough to insert the very tip of her strap into Emerald’s pussy. Slowly, painfully slowly, she drove it deeper, and with every passing moment Emerald thought she might lose her mind. That same heat that Cinder could call up in her hands was present in her strap, the fires of glassmaking giving it a residual warmth that drove Emerald to the every edge of her resilience then and there. She couldn’t cum from this, not yet, not until Cinder had done as she promised to do.
Emerald thought it, and Cinder rammed her hips forward. With a cry of joy and need, Emerald arched her back into the thrust, only to collapse again as Cinder slowly pulled back out. Then in again, back, in, back, and on and on as Cinder slowly worked her over the same way that she’d been worked. Emerald had seen what Cinder could do if she had to torture someone. She wondered how much of that experience was being put to use here, with the specific goal of making Emerald babble out praise and worship. A good amount, she thought, and then that thought vanished as Cinder took one of her nipples into her mouth. She bit it gently, enough to make Emerald gasp, then pulled back, apparently satisfied that Emerald’s attention was back on her.
“Now,” she said, “Let’s begin.” Emerald barely had the chance to nod before Cinder began fucking her with wild abandon. Every thrust sent a pulse of pure, unadulterated joy straight into Emerald’s brain, breaking apart her deeper thoughts and pulling her fully into the moment. Cinder slowly moved upright with every thrust, stopping every now and then to adjust. She cupped Emerald’s ass and pulled her up, Emerald wrapping her legs around Cinder’s waist instinctually. She didn’t even care that Cinder’s Grimm arm was going to leave a sticky, uncomfortable residue on her ass, only caring that Cinder was now at an even better angle to fuck her. “You and your fucking chaps,” Cinder grumbled, “Pracing around in as tight clothes as you can find, using this ass to tease me. You’d grind against me all fucking day if you could, those tight fucking pants just there to get my attention.” Emerald hoped that Cinder would get to the ‘fucking her brains out’ part a bit faster. Cinder’s dirty talk was, in a word, pathetic. She’d learned it all from porn, as she'd admitted one evening while thoroughly drunk.
The thought stuck long enough for Emerald to snicker at it, then she sank into the pleasure. Every stroke brought her to a new height, a new place from which to let herself truly enjoy the moment. The heat of the strap had faded somewhat, just body heat now, but still enough that Emerald moaned out with each motion.
She didn’t think that the power of the Maiden let Cinder feel anything as she was fucking her. But, on the other hand, it did let her completely dominate someone, which was as good as a hard drug to Cinder.
Equally addicting was the pleasure shooting through Emerald’s body, gritting her teeth to hold on a bit longer, only for Cinder to shift just enough to raise her to a new peak. Emerald cried out as she came, flailing her arms in a desperate attempt to ground herself until Cinder snatched both of her wrists, pinning them over her head. That kept Emerald’s soul from leaving her body and she slowly fell back into herself. Her conscious mind returned just in time to moan in the back of her throat as Cinder slowly slid herself free. A flick of her wrist and the glass cock vanished, Cinder falling forward on top of Emerald.
They stayed that way just long enough to realize what position they were in. Emerald wanted to reach out and pull Cinder back, even as Cinder got up, sitting on the edge of the bed. She didn’t. It would have only ended badly. Propping herself up on her elbows, Emerald watched as Cinder stared blankly at the far wall. She let out a long, heavy sigh, not turning back to face her. No water to drink, no snacks allowed on Salem’s living fortress, nothing to cover up the immediate moments after they fucked. A dangerous thing, to let the two of them have a moment of consideration.
Finally, Cinder spoke. “Emerald…I know that this isn’t…” She trailed off, and Emerald mentally supplied the rest. What wasn’t it? Professional? Good? Healthy? Something that either of them wanted to give up? It wasn’t something that Emerald had ever expected, and now that she had it she didn’t want to ever live without? It wasn’t something that Emerald should even want? But, no, she didn’t say any of that out loud. It would have only made Cinder angry, and she’d only just gotten her back. Instead she waited in silence, until Cinder stiffened, now glaring at the wall. Her voice was curt, sharp, and raspy. “Get out.”
Emerald gathered up her clothes, putting on her pants and jacket, bundling up the remains of the rest of her clothes into a ball. She left without a word, hesitating only a little as the door closed behind her. She sighed, tucking the ball of clothes under her arm and making her way to her own room. What they had wasn’t a lot of things. Emerald wasn’t sure that she ever wanted it to stop.