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Do Not Tread Lightly

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Lightning learns too late that Fang does not accept surrender lightly, nor does she herself surrender with grace. They have spent most of the evening sparring, outside the reach of creatures and out of view of the others. Fang advances until Lightning finds herself on her knees, gunblade on the ground before her.

"I yield," Her breath comes ragged.

Fang gets lower, and her spear drops right next to Lightning's side. "Really? You yield?" Fang moves as a predator does when its prey is already cornered, a slow advance that keeps Lightning moving back.

It has to be the sweat, the breathing, and the rush of battle, but Lightning knows exactly what Fang is asking, and even more so, Lightning knows her own answer.


Fang's breath flows warmly around Lightning's neck, her thigh parts Lightning's own, and her lips curl into a wicked smile. With her heart pounding in her ears, Lightning feels herself caught between backing herself away or bringing herself closer.

She compromises and captures Fang by her well-muscled back and pulls her down. Heat radiating from both Lightning and Fang joins together against the cool Pulse evening. Lightning's hand goes under the black top that binds Fang's breasts. They feel full and heavy in her hand, and moist from a light layer of sweat. The nipples are already hard, and remind Lightning that her body has the identical reaction.

"Eager, aren't we?" Fang nibbles on Lightning's ear. Her fingers loosen the belt around Lightning's waist and unbuckle the first two clasps on her jacket, just enough that when Fang finally unzips Lightning's sweater both her brand and her breasts are bared. "Very nice." Fang gropes one, and takes it into her mouth to suck. Lightning begins to writhe with the electricity that Fang sends through her body.

"Yes..." Lightning grabs Fang's sari and pulls it down. The fabric cascades between them and shines in the settting sun. Fang brushes it aside, and lifts Lightning's skirt to her waist. Lightning thinks that she's never been this exposed to anyone, and especially not outdoors. Even the fear in the back of her mind of discovery doesn't distract from the throbbing feeling, and the air against her pussy only intensifies the need to be touched.

Fang's hand slides easily between her legs. This is good, is all Lightning can think as the longing sensation comes to the surface. And then, one, two, three fingers slide inside. She has to bite down on her lip in order to prevent a shout. Fang moves her hand gently around, slowly massaging Lightning from the inside, until Lightning feels filled up.

She lifts her hips, and gives out a gasp, and Fang withdraws her hand. Belatedly Lightning realizes that Fang had her whole hand in there. It gleams in the dim light. Fang brings a finger down to Lightning's lips, she can smell herself on Fang's hand. "You needed that." The fingers breach past the lips and teeth to Lightning's tongue and she can taste the sour and salt of her fluid and sweat.


Then Fang leans down. "I need it too."

Lightning knows what she needs to do.


They return from sparring that night, their clothes ill-adjusted and stained from grass, and Lightning's hair in particular, a stray mess. While Fang seems to be perfectly composed, and she takes her place next to Vanille's side, Lightning's limbs are still shaking.

"You okay?" Hope asks.

Lightning looks at him. "Yeah, fine. Just a tough match. She's not merciful."

Hope nods like he understands. She knows he doesn't, because she's not even sure she understands herself.