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Minako opened the door and set down her keys. The air in her apartment was unusually humid. Undoing the hooks of her winter coat, a wave of nostalgia fill her. It seemed as if a familiar crooning was flitting past her ears.

She remembered every word, on day of their parting.

If I stay on this side any longer, I fear I will forget my duties entirely.

At the time, she was seventeen, and though she didn't think of herself as such then, despite all that had happened, still very much a girl. Years had passed and still she remembered. The gleam of sadness in those ordinarily inscrutable amber eyes. The twist and clench of an illusory fist around her heart. Her hand in the air, frozen, her lips eternally parted, unable to speak a word.

No, it very much did NOT "seem" that she heard that sentimental, wordless aria. There, in her modest studio apartment's even more modest kitchenette…

That trademark pillbox hat was slightly askew, perched atop her platinum bob. She stood on her toes before the half-stove, peering over the rim of a large pot with insatiable interest, stirring it with a large wooden ladle.

The bold aroma of cumin mingled with her humming in the air.

The world turned red and black in Minako’s vision. Panicked, she thought a blood vessel must ruptured have in her brain. A sense of weightless drew her upwards, towards the ceiling, it was only by grabbing for the coat rack that she stopped herself from floating away.

Turning to Minako, Elizabeth folded her hands in front of her, bowing both in greeting and soft apology. "You didn't have the proper implements for beef bowls, so I hoped curry would suffice."

Pendulous teardrops of creamy brown shivered on the curve of the ladle, threatening to fall.

Dazed, Minako had to admit that curry would hit the spot.

"Now then," Elizabeth said, her heels clicking on the tile, gesturing this way and that with her ladle, and leaving a trail of brown splotches in her wake. "Far be it from me to claim to be the expert, but I'm told it's proper to..." She leaned forward, bee-stung lips quirking upwards with her entreaty. "...kiss the chef?"

She’d hardly finished the sentence before Minako was upon her, snatching her close with thumb ground against cheek and wolfish kiss against pursed lips.

The ladle clattered to the floor.

They scrambled into one another with the slap of incumbent flesh, tearing clothing like tissue paper, scattering button, shoe, and rakishly tilted hat wherever they cared to fall. Dull thuds of stockinged feet across the living room’s tatami. Tumbling over the small coffee table. A skyburst of Minako’s files flurried the air, a month’s worth of work transmuted into their impromptu snowstorm.

As one, they impacted the haphazardly piled futon, still left out from this morning—and, thankfully, Minako had no sense to spare on being embarrassed about her lack of housekeeping. The walls vibrated with Elizabeth's tinkling laughter and Minato’s hungry panting. It was a queer, yet beautiful, sort of harmony. Minako was atop her, pressing body to body, lip to lip, fingers to cheek, to neck, to shoulder, to earlobe with grueling urgency, seeking the surety, the confirmation, that touch brings.

"Now, now," chided Elizabeth. A flat press of her palms at Minako's shoulders—it didn't take but a mote of the strength hidden in this slip of a girl to halt Minako's slavering advance. "I am ever a servant," she explained, before the whimper of need could cross Minako's lips. "So please, permit me the pleasure of serving."

Her momentum redirected with a judoka’s finesse, the impact of Minako’s shoulders sent a rattle through the wall behind her. Her stomach lurched with the strange G force of Elizabeth coyly flipping up her skirt. Her toes curled in her mismatched socks—of all the days to shirk on fashion! Her throat bobbed with ravenous breath, as Elizabeth's slim fingers traced the slim outline of her through her panties. She nearly screamed with the sensation of cold air, as Elizabeth's nails tickled over her bare flesh, tugged down the elastic and let her loose, placing firm imprint against Minako's thighs, as her head descended, gracing a breath of cordial greeting over Minako’s pulsing tip.

"Now what shall I do," Elizabeth mused, touching a finger to her lips, a finger Minako would've greatly preferred around her lonely cock.

"Elizabeth..." Minako panted her name like a beast mimicking speech.

"That is I." A touch of her finger latched closed Minako's lips, and Minako's eyes began to water, as she struggled to catch her breathe through her nose. As she spoke, her head began its arduous descent, growing closer with every whispered word. "And you are you; and this is to thank you, for everything you've done, and everything you will do."

Electric jolts of cruel discharge ran up and down Minako’s spine at the first caress of Elizabeth’s tongue. A wordless sound fluttered past numb lips, and her hips shook, questing upwards—

—only to be met with a bracing touch Elizabeth’s hand. Her legs locked, rigid. She was reined. Their eyes met.

A mischievous look spread over Elizabeth’s ordinarily serene features, and she ensorcelled Minako with a raised hand, delicately tucking the shaken-loose strands of her short, platinum hair back behind her ear. “But THIS," she said, plainly, "is for letting me leave, that day."

Elizabeth plunged, engulfing just the tip of Minako into her mouth. And then, with the lightest application of suction, conjured a moan like venom drawn from an age-old wound. Her quarry dazed, Elizabeth then reclaimed Minako’s focus with a sharp and amiable *nip!* to Minako's seeping, sensitive head.

Minako squealed, a shudder recoiling through her hips with the tender nibble. Her fingers tightened in the air, grasping for Elizabeth’s hair, close yet somehow distant. She swallowed, arms shivering, elbows aching. Her grip closed around Elizabeth's ears, and she wrenched downward in counter motion to her hips, the inaccurate blow smearing clear, pungent fluid over Elizabeth’s soft cheek.

“Marvelous,” Elizabeth whispered, the roll of her breath warm over slick flesh, coaxing Minako with wet strokes of her hand. "Now show me what power you hold."

All through what happened next, a groan with singular urgency accompanied Elizabeth’s display of not just spectacular knowledge, but spectacular skill. It was as if she understood every contour, every crease, every soft spot and every hard one of Minako’s body. Her hand’s roved Minako’s thighs, under her rear, and up her stomach, tracing along the curves of her hips, her bellybutton, and at the shallow rise of her breasts beneath her shirt, only partly undone.

Hips settled into a smooth rhythm, and the muffled sound of Elizabeth accepting Minako, no small effort, filled the room. Soft hands moved as if to cajole, squeezing Minako’s stomach, and her head dropped ever deeper, claiming her, meeting each thrust with heady enthusiasm and the patient bulge of alternating cheeks. Minako thrashed, having no use for her body beyond Elizabeth’s use of her, she felt as if a puppet master had cut her strings, faintly twitching, legs jittering, arms spasming with uncapped pleasure at her sides. With a thunk! her head cracked the drywall, glassy eyes staring straight ahead, focusing and unfocusing, until her entire world became nothing but pellucid coronas of azure and white. A hum grew in Elizabeth’s throat, vibrations rolling over Minako’s cock in a tremulous wave, striking a parallel harmony in her strong enough to shatter glass. Strong enough to— to—


All warning was cut short by the furtive mewl of Minako’s release. Her stomach tightened. Her knees shot up and her spine arched forward, fetal. Her fingers tangled in shaggy hair, clinging on for dear life—keening to the instinctual fear that at the end of this might come the dissipation of this wonderful dream.

Truly, no warning was required. Elizabeth accepted Minako into her, fully, gladly embracing her with her mouth, her tongue a bed for Minako’s surging cock. Her eyes closed, she inhaled supremely through her nose, in one long, cautious wave, as she accepted Minako’s release—how many years of tension, waiting for this moment?

It was a… rather voluminous welcome home she received indeed.

With the deep sound of Elizabeth's swallow, the thunderhead of tension looming in the air burst into blessed rain. Minako grabbed at fistfuls of hair and neck, pulling Elizabeth to her and swiftly snaring her with a potent kiss. They fell together onto the tangled quilts, wrestling against one another, kicking their legs in the air, and sharing kisses and sharp giggles of joy as the truth of their reunion hit them with its full and proper force.

When they'd worn each other out, they parted, staring up at the ceiling and listening to the drone of traffic outside, connected to each other by a singular, stray bead of sweat pinned between the near-touch of their arms. Their fingertips traded touches at their sides, and they exhaled their passion on the same whim, with a long and wistful sigh.

"Now then," Elizabeth said plainly, trailing her Minako-warm hands across her cold neck, bringing them to her face and enjoying the smell of their shared pleasure. She rested her cheek atop the quilts, tenting her fingers beneath amber eyes glimmering with tears yet to be shed, and said, "I really must insist you try the curry."