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Weiss had never seen Blake in anything but black. She initially assumed it was an affectation of the White Fang rather than sheer sartorial indifference, but after a few days, it became clear that the Faunus’ wardrobe couldn’t be restricted to the mismatched clothes stolen from the safehouse. The shirt served well enough while Blake’s ribs healed, left completely open until the violet and blue mass of bruises faded to a surface-deep ache, but after that, after the crime scene technicians and suspicious detectives finished traipsing around her house, Weiss found the Faunus in need of a long bath and something more suitable to wear.
Diverging aesthetics set aside, it only took a handful of blouses from her own closet to realize that Blake’s shoulders strained at their seams and the Faunus’ tattoos couldn’t be concealed when a single shift tugged both sleeves past the wrists. The few sets of trousers she owned refused to stretch past the muscle in Blake’s thighs, and even if they had, the difference in height between them would have made the resulting effect nothing short of comical.
The second solution was awkward, if effective. Her father and Blake were roughly the same height, even if their proportions were different. Hunting through his attire turned up a few serviceable options, although Weiss didn’t want to linger too long on the notion of Blake dressing the same as the man the Faunus had put in the hospital. A black leather belt and a proper set of cufflinks offset most of the more obvious disparities, but it wasn’t a perfect fit by any means. Suits never were unless they were tailored, but that implied Blake would be wearing the clothes long enough to care.
It implied that the Faunus was going to stay.
Weiss had no reservations about the tenuous alliance between them. Blake’s interest lay in her using Schnee power to provide leverage and exposure for the Faunus and that was predicated on them both staying alive long enough to see it happen. The fact that Blake made a perfect guardian for deflecting the machinations of the White Fang would have been amusing if the Faunus’ presence wasn’t so inherently frustrating. Wheels of bureaucracy turned slowly, and the calls Weiss had received from the family lawyers promised months of litigation in her future, if not years. That was worth a laugh when she had a veritable stranger in her house, much less one currently commanding a half a million Lien bounty.
Certainly the Faunus hadn’t walked in on her crying the night after the last of the blood had been cleaned from the carpets. Weiss cursed those silent steps as much as she cursed taking solace in Blake’s arms tightening around her, the memory of what followed their last embrace too recent to have lost its fire. At some point, she surrendered to a fitful slumber, only to wake up alone the next morning. Without a single sound echoing through the house but her own footsteps, she convinced herself the Faunus had vanished until she found Blake in the kitchen three floors away, smelling of smoke and freshly ground coffee.
Days bled into weeks without her paying it much regard; there was too much to be done. Hiring new staff for the house meant checking back through years of references and recommendations for any trace of the White Fang and Blake had been of middling assistance, deriding the security company she’d contracted from as well-dressed cannon fodder. The guards kept at as much of a distance as the maids and cooks and gardeners, smiling and bowing without any hint of conceit. It was the same with the lawyers, the family friends who were willing to answer her calls. She was no longer the crystalline decoration at her father’s side and Weiss could read the fear in their eyes.
Perhaps it was also the size of her shadow. Blake deserved the nickname without irony, always just a step behind. Weiss was used to bodyguards who did their level best to blend into walls and furniture, balancing privacy with protection, but that wasn’t nearly as intimidating. There were whispers at the first official board meeting she held, demanding to know why a Faunus was in their presence at the same moment the White Fang was being eviscerated on every media circuit in Vale. If anyone recognized Blake, they didn’t say so; with the tattoos covered, Weiss found that even the private sector easily mistook one Faunus for another.
The matter of the bounty was resolved when she discovered one of her father’s shell companies had been fronting the Lien for Blake’s capture. It was a smart move, earning the goodwill of the police while keeping Schnee interests in the loop if a high-ranking officer with information on their dealings ended up in prison. Weiss wondered how many informants had been silenced after calling in for their reward and immediately sent a message to the executor of the account to have the contract revoked. If the police had enough evidence to arrest Blake independently, there was no sign of it.
Weiss could see why. Living with Blake was like living with a ghost. Despite sleeping in the guest quarters across from her own, the Faunus left almost no proof of existing. There wasn’t a single personal detail in the room; the borrowed clothes retrieved from and returned to her father’s closet on exactly the same rack, the bed seeming untouched. After a point, Weiss wondered if Blake wiped the fingerprints from dishes and glasses between meals. Without their weekly arguments, it would have been easy to believe the Faunus was a dark figment of her imagination.
Surely her psyche wouldn’t have created someone so thoroughly infuriating, who deflected or ignored her questions unless they were about the business at hand. No matter how she needled or cajoled, Blake refused to discuss anything personal. It wouldn’t have been half as grating if the Faunus wasn’t her only source of company, the only one she could trust not to sugar-coat matters or sell her out in an instant for a better offer. There was nothing to be discovered in public record — no Blake Belladonna had a birth certificate on file — but as it was, most city documents on Faunus began with an arrest history. Few of them received a formal education, much less bothered going through official channels for marriages and death notices.
When she finally snapped, her fist against the dining table forcing the breakfast china to tremble in unison, Blake had closed the distance between them in an instant, looming like a Grimm over a fresh kill.
“It would be best if you didn’t get attached.” The Faunus intoned, every word ground out between clenched teeth.
“To you?” Weiss asked.
“Especially to me.”
Blake made that the last word, disappearing from the room in a flicker of shadow. Being left to stew in her own anger didn’t help matters; she made a dozen different plans for a petty revenge until that baser urge finally cooled. Her tea had gone cold as well, but Weiss sipped it nonetheless, taking some comfort in the bitter aftertaste.
How could she not get attached? Blake was almost always with her, exuding that uncanny Faunus heat, standing tall enough that a single breath across the top of her hair threatened to provoke a shiver. When that amber gaze prodded like a knife between her shoulders, there was no escaping its weight. Weiss couldn’t afford to look weak, to allow anyone else into her space, but Blake continued to dodge her assertions at the last moment, leaving her alone and empty-handed.
It made her laugh to consider the restless feeling the Faunus put in her gut might be attraction. There wouldn’t be a greater farce in all of Vale unless she paid a visit underground to Adam Taurus and gave him a kiss in front of the entire cell block.
Pushing away the dregs of her tea, Weiss stood and wrapped her fingers around Myrtenaster’s hilt. Destroying an army of golems in the practice room was a productive way to vent her ills; there were few things more exhilarating than earning victory when she was outnumbered and pushed to the point of exhaustion. There were no meetings scheduled today, no interviews with the press, no one asking her how she felt betraying her father’s true allegiance to the public. The world still needed Dust and thus they needed her.
It shouldn’t have been a surprise to find the practice room already occupied, even if the realization immediately set her teeth on edge. Gambol Shroud’s blade was whipping from one end of the arena to the other, the ribbon going taut just before it was forced to slice through stone. Blake was standing in the very center, keeping control of the weapon even as it came within inches, perhaps even less, of bare skin every time it returned. An ill-timed twitch could have taken off the Faunus’ nose or worse, and that was before the dance began.
Weiss couldn’t think of another name for it when Blake’s feet began to move, a single stomp against the floor providing the beginning of the rhythm before the Faunus did a flip, the next pull of the blade slicing through the air where Blake had been standing a split second before. Each tuck and handspring built on itself until Blake was a dervish of black, cleaving through a hundred imaginary opponents without stopping. The Faunus’ form was endless liquid movement, using the lethal momentum of the blade to defy the demands of gravity.
It ended just as suddenly, Gambol Shroud forced to transform just in time to slam back into its sheath as Blake dropped to one knee. The impact had to be staggering, but the Faunus stood with barely a second’s pause, the start of sweat visible over a dark brow.
“Did you need something?” The hitch of exertion in Blake’s voice wasn’t helping matters.
“I—” Weiss cleared her throat. She had been staring the entire time, listening to the snap of silk and steel as if hypnotized. “I was going to use the room.”
The last loop of the ribbon was pulled tight, blending into the Faunus’ black sleeve. “Fine.”
She wasn’t in the mood for another dismissal, not after the morning’s tug of war. “Do you hold up as well against a real partner too or was that just for show?”
Blake’s ears twitched. “Are you asking me to spar?”
“Let me guess, the answer’s no.” Weiss took a step forward, flipping Myrtenaster’s chamber to white. Energy surged down the length of the blade until it glowed. “You would hurt me or some nonsense.”
“I have more self-control than that.” A soft click signaled Gambol Shroud splitting back in two. “Do you?”
Weiss began to walk to the opposite side of the arena, keeping the Faunus in her sights. “It’s a shame you don’t use a proper sword. We could have a real bout. I’m curious how useful that blade is when you can’t throw it around.”
“If fencing prepared you for actual combat, that might be worth the novelty.” Blake replied, stepping into a defensive stance. “Any rules?”
“The loser is whoever asks for mercy first.”
The first volley of ice shards got within a hairsbreadth of the Faunus’ face before Blake dodged, launching into a handspring with a chest-deep snarl. Weiss summoned a glyph of repulsion on the opposite side, cursing as Blake twisted on one hand at the last moment, launching the curved blade like a grappling hook. A sharp tug on the ribbon yanked the Faunus out of range of the glyph, widening the distance between them. Weiss didn’t relent, sending a set of frozen spears to box Blake into the far corner. Gambol Shroud had alarming reach, but she could easily sidestep its strikes in the time it took the blade to hurtle across the room. The key in defeating any opponent with speed was either wearing them out or trapping them in place.
Each time Blake tried to cut closer, she fired glyphs in opposition, manipulating the Faunus’ footing with a shifting pattern of red and blue. Trying to keep a bead on Blake’s blurred movement was nearly impossible, but Weiss gave her strikes a few seconds of lead time, counting on them sparking into reality right as the Faunus made contact with a wall or the floor.
What she hadn’t expected was a dark grey sheath hurtling towards her like a javelin, its wide but clearly razor-sharp edge aimed for her chest. Weiss had been focused on the whiplash-fast movements of the smaller blade, but a last minute twist was enough to move her body out of the sheath’s path. It was a poor throw by the sound of it clattering to the ground rather than sticking into the wall, but the distraction had given Blake enough time to get halfway across the room and Weiss reacted with a flurry of ice, not keen to lose her advantage.
When the Faunus froze in place, she felt a flutter of excitement, drawing Myrtenaster back in preparation for a charged launch forward. The strike was cut short when numbness suddenly radiated up her left arm, the impact so forceful Myrtenaster tumbled from her fingers. There was no time to react with anything but shock when she saw the figure trapped inside her cage of ice disappear into thin air, her shout of frustration cut off by something pulling tight around her throat.
“Made you look.” Blake purred into her ear.
Terror should have filled her at the tight loop of ribbon trapped against her pulse, recalling when the Faunus had strangled Adam right in front of her, dragging him down to his knees. Rage would have been preferable in its place, a hot rush in her veins at the realization that she had fallen for one of Blake’s shadow tricks, but neither emotion was what accompanied the sensation of the Faunus’ body pressed flush against her back, strength barely held at bay. A single harsh tug was all it would take for Blake to snap her neck and end everything.
“Mercy?” The question vibrated through the Faunus’ chest, adding insult to injury when Weiss had to bite back a lower sound.
She could have slammed her foot down on Blake’s instep or wrenched her head backwards, praying for enough slack to slip free from the chokehold, but a cautious flex of her fingers proved the feeling hadn’t quite come back to them yet, making a desperate grasp for Myrtenaster out of the question. Whatever pressure point the Faunus struck had been painfully effective, breaking her grip in an instant.
Weiss gulped down a breath, feeling where it caught against the ribbon. “Mercy.”
The rasp of silk sliding free was more of a curse than a relief, trailing across her throat like a caress. She felt light-headed as soon as Blake took a step back, but it passed within a matter of seconds, allowing her to pick Myrtenaster up from the floor with a fraction of her dignity.
“Want to try again?” Blake asked.
“I think you’ve made your point.” Weiss muttered. Losing once might sting for the day, losing twice in quick succession would etch that humiliation deeper. Her father had made a poor choice in making himself her only flesh-and-blood opponent; memorizing his techniques didn’t make for a true strategy, not when the Faunus had a completely alien style. “My birthday is in a week.”
“Is it?” Noncommittal, as always.
“After that, the lawyers will stop worrying about the Lien I’ve spent in trust. I think they’ve been waiting for my father to wake up and ruin their lives for letting his daughter dismantle his corporate empire. Now they can just blame it on me.”
“Twenty-seven.” Blake said, after a moment’s pause.
Weiss frowned. “What?”
“The answer to one of your questions.” Blake turned towards the door, making the Faunus’ face impossible to see.
Her eyes widened a little. “Oh.”
“There’s a tattoo for veterans of the White Fang, anyone who’s been in for thirty years. They call it the wolf’s crown. I’ve wondered for a long time if I would fear running more than I feared them inking that into my skin, proving I’d rather be safe than honest.” The Faunus’ head tilted slightly. “I suppose it doesn’t matter now.”
“What would they do now?” Weiss asked.
Blake glanced back at her over one shoulder. “Cut the wolf from my back and make me eat it, I imagine.”
With that said, the Faunus exited the training room, leaving her alone in the hollow of the arena. Weiss had planned to fight at least one wave of golems after sparring with Blake, but it felt like all the energy had been drained out of her. Yet there was something invigorating that after months of stonewalling, she had finally learned something new, a tangible piece to hold on to. It almost seemed like Blake’s oblique way of offering thanks.
Perhaps they needed to spar more often.
—-
The bomb was under the back seat of her private limousine. It had been sent out for service a few days before to a private mechanic Weiss had vetted personally, only to come back rigged with enough Dust to put a crater in the front driveway. That was exactly what it did seconds after Blake shoved her out of the way, yelling for her to cover her ears. Sprawled on the grass with her hands pressed tight against her skull, the force of the explosion still managed to shake her to the core, a wave of heat and smoke following the blast of red-tinged shrapnel.
Guards were shouting everywhere around her, moving to snuff out the fires sparking all over the lawn. She felt a hand on her shoulder, a sharp tug pulling her upright, but couldn’t summon the will to open her eyes and see the damage until they were nearly through the doorway. There was someone on the ground scalded and bleeding — her driver, he had already been in the front, buckled in and waiting — but Blake was the one guiding her inside, face streaked dark with ash. The Faunus’ stare was hollow and cold, every movement automatic. Despite wanting to see to her driver’s safety, Weiss didn’t resist; it was clear Blake wouldn’t tolerate any heroism.
Later, Weiss would get a call from the police, informing her the mechanic’s wife had been shot execution-style and a pair of his fingers chopped to the knuckle for refusing the White Fang’s initial offer. He would be murdered after three days in protective custody.
Right now, the only thing she could focus on was one foot in front of the other until she was in her room. Blake slammed the door before setting every lock in place, the vise-tight grip on her shoulder finally relaxing.
“They’ll call the police and the paramedics.” The Faunus said shortly. “You’re staying in here until they arrive.”
Weiss nodded. She wasn’t really in the mood to argue about proper evacuation procedure with that horrific sound ringing in her ears. “How did you know?”
Blake shrugged. Ash covered the Faunus’ entire suit, shrapnel having shredded through at least half the coat. There were crimson specks covering both leather shoes, the soles warped and scorched. “The click when I opened the back door was different. It must have been the trigger. Not to mention the car smelled like the bottom of a Dust quarry.”
“Haldan—” The driver’s name caught in her throat.
“There’s nothing you could have done.” Blake interrupted. “If he survives, then pay for his recovery.”
It was so matter-of-fact, as if no one’s life hung in the balance. “You saved me again.”
“That’s the bargain, isn’t it?” Blake turned to cough, the sound dry and painful.
It was only then that Weiss saw the state of the Faunus’ back, that jacket and shirt alike were little more than a few scorched threads. Rivulets of blood trickled from a dozen cuts where shrapnel had broken the skin, painting the savage wolf etched into Blake’s skin with sluggish drabs of crimson. The damage wasn’t lethal, or it didn’t look it, but a few feet closer to the blast and it might have been.
“Blake, you’re bleeding.” Weiss said softly.
“Am I?” Reaching back was all it took to confirm, Blake frowning at the bright red stain. “I’ll go change.”
“Someone might see you.” More specifically, the tattoos, the indelible signs that she was shielding a murderer from law enforcement. The same murderer who kept saving her life. “I’ll go get some clothes from Father’s room.”
“You’re not—” Blake’s jaw tensed.
“Do you think someone placed a bomb in his closet without you noticing too?” Weiss asked. “You can wash up in my bathroom.”
The Faunus’ stride was one degree short of a sulk, cocked hip and all, but at least she hadn’t needed to yell to get Blake away from the door. A laugh bubbled up in Weiss’ throat as she stepped into the hall; the reaction was so normal, so out of place with the reality of a bomb underneath her seat, the executioner’s axe the White Fang kept dangling above her head.
When the sound of sirens finally met her ears, she was elbow-deep in dress shirts. Perhaps the paramedics would be of use, saving Haldan from being another casualty under the Schnee name, but Weiss’ regard for the police hovered somewhere above Grimm and somewhere below the average Vale barista. The latter could at least be relied on to do their job with some proficiency, rather than the glorified janitors that happened to own badges. They cleaned up the messes the White Fang left behind, filed them into reports, and promised to follow up. The fact that they hadn’t managed a single arrest in this entire debacle hadn’t escaped her notice.
Picking out Blake’s new suit was oddly comforting. Weiss liked to think she had an eye for patterns, a certain sense of style, and putting all of the pieces together was easier than wondering if she needed to make a new division for funeral expenses.
By the time she returned to the room, the sound of the shower became readily apparent. Despite that, the bathroom door was wide open in what Weiss hoped was an invitation. Steam was already beginning to creep up the mirror when she entered with an armful of clothes, averting her eyes from the stall. Blake’s former suit lay in bloody, ashen shreds on the floor, the shoes and Gambol Shroud abandoned alongside it. She hung the new one piece by piece on the polished silver hooks hanging along the wall, leaving the socks and underwear atop the counter.
When the door to the shower opened, Weiss didn’t have the time to turn away completely, nor the particular desire to, if she was being honest with herself. In the matter of curiosity killing cats, she had the feeling Blake was often responsible for the reverse. Despite the brief flicker of concern that the Faunus would yell for her to get out, there was almost no response to her presence, Blake’s gaze centered on the mirror. There was a brief check in the reflection, revealing that the slices from the shrapnel were already closed, the red flush across the Faunus’ skin from the warmth of the water rather than fresh blood.
Weiss refused to let her eyes wander lower, past the grooves of hard-earned muscle and Blake’s well-decorated arms, the tattoos she so rarely got to see. Thankfully the Faunus was quick to don a towel before trying to squeeze the last of the water out of dark locks over the bowl of the sink. Blake’s hair looked far different wet, without the restraint of a thick braid or the curly mane that poured over the Faunus’ shoulders when it was let loose. The secondary ears, that singular violet color, were entirely visible and moved seemingly of their own accord, small twitches and flicks without rhyme or reason.
“Did you hear the sirens?” Blake asked, eyes still focused on the mirror.
“I suppose I should go downstairs and speak with them.” Weiss said.
“If they brought a bomb unit along, it may be some time before they’re ready to interrogate you.” The towel was dropped then, Blake’s hand reaching for the briefs she’d stolen from a drawer. “Thanks for the clothes.”
“You’re welcome.” Weiss turned on her heel, desperate to ignore the blush creeping up her face. “Come out when you’re done.”
The bedroom felt ten degrees cooler when she closed the bathroom door behind her, but that only emphasized the heat lingering in her cheeks. Kept an inch from death yet again and all Weiss could hear was her heart pounding in her chest, the hammer of adrenaline striking every last nerve she possessed. Blake had to have noticed the way she stared, although surely it was too much to hope that the Faunus had modesty on purpose to provoke it. The White Fang probably thought little of their members’ privacy, after all.
When Blake emerged, looking far too polished for having just survived being blown to pieces, Weiss caught those amber eyes trailing down her body, the Faunus’ mouth in a tight, thoughtful line.
“There’s grass stains on your stockings.” Blake noted quietly. “The police might take them as evidence if you don’t swap them out.”
Weiss glanced down, looking at the mess of green ground into the fabric. “‘l’ll do that.”
“I’ll be outside the door.” The Faunus was gone seconds later, apparently not requiring a reply.
It was an annoyance to have to change her stockings and not her shoes, although Weiss let out a soft hiss of pain at the realization that her knees had been worn raw from falling against the ground. The abrasions weren’t anything compared to the bloody state of Blake’s back, but it was the sort of sting that felt far sharper than it should have been. Perhaps it was a waste to summon a bit of cold to ease the ache, but it sparked her Aura into reacting, healing away the damage in a matter of seconds.
Everything was pristine again a few moments later — her stockings, her skin, her smile — and ready to meet the police, stoic guardian in tow. That lie was so much easier than the truth, easier than acknowledging that she had willfully condemned her life to a series of catastrophes and casualties, entangled herself in a promise that would only end if she betrayed Blake or lived long enough to see the White Fang collapse.
That, of course, didn’t account for what would happen if her father ever woke up.
—-
The police had asked her questions until the sun set, hours after the first lawyer she kept on retainer arrived. Weiss endured it with as much grace as she could summon —yes she had received threats she hadn’t reported to the authorities, no she didn’t want any additional protection — until a maid had quietly announced that dinner was ready. Weiss’ appetite had vanished after the call from the hospital announcing Haldan was still in critical condition, his vitals too erratic to be sure whether or not he would make it through the night, but she took the opportunity to end the interrogation then and there.
Every dish tasted the same, but she forced herself to clear her plate, idly considering a request for a bottle of wine to be brought up from the cellar. Whether or not it was legal, she knew she wouldn’t be refused, and it was that particular train of thought that brought the meal to an end. Blake had stepped outside a few minutes earlier to have a cigarette, but Weiss didn’t want to wait or interrupt, so she set her napkin on the table and crept back upstairs, wondering if simply passing out in her room would kill the uneasy sensation in her chest. She was tired of dancing around a hundred questions at once, locking her own desires up in a cage. Shouldn’t her father’s absence have cured that particular malady?
The Faunus found her sitting on the edge of her bed, legs crossed and feet hanging an inch above the floor. Staring at nothing hadn’t been a cure either, but the will to take off her clothes and wash up had vanished the moment she arrived upstairs. Weiss kept her silence as Blake approached, startled only when she saw the Faunus start to undo the buttons on the dress shirt she’d picked out just hours before.
“What are you doing?” Weiss asked.
“You’ve been staring at me all day.” The last button was undone, both halves of the shirt tugged open. “What is it that you want to see?”
Blake’s fingers trailed over the roses etched under the faint jut of collarbones, not waiting for an answer. “Do you want to know what these mean?”
Lower then, the touch halting just above the jeweled crown, pitch black lines curving over the Faunus’ hip. “Or this?”
The accusation riled Weiss back to consciousness, anger washing away apathy. “I wasn’t staring at them. I was staring at you.”
“There’s no difference.” Blake took another step forward, the Faunus’ height emphasized by her position on the bed. She got to her feet immediately, refusing to have whatever this argument was while sitting down. “Murder and theft made me what I am, Weiss. Remembering that would be in your best interest.”
“Are you trying to scare me?” Weiss tilted her head up, ensuring Blake’s eyes were locked with hers. “My best interests aren’t your concern. You’re not my father. You’re…a business partner.”
“Oh?” The Faunus leaned down, close enough for a kiss. Close enough for her to break Blake’s nose all over again. “Then tell me what you’re looking for.”
Even with her heels on, Weiss had to yank on Blake’s shoulders to pull their mouths together that last inch. The kiss was messy - she had no artistry, a fraction of experience, just enough to know what she wanted, needed - and quick, the taste of ash on the Faunus’ tongue far more alluring than it should have been. Every voice in her head screaming for her to reconsider was stifled by the second kiss, no less fierce than the first. If she were perfect, the picture of contentment, maybe she could have made herself believe this lust was one-sided and let it lie. She wasn’t, wouldn’t ever be.
The sensation of being lifted by calloused hands made her pulse quicken, balance stolen from her until she was forced to wrap her legs around Blake’s hips. Warmth radiated from the Faunus’ bare skin, strong enough to be felt through the fabric of Weiss’ blouse. She was dazed for a split second at the notion that this was actually happening, that this wasn’t a fever dream or fantasy.
“Blake—” she gasped against the Faunus’ mouth.
The next words were growled against her lips, nearly unintelligible. “This is a mistake.”
Of course it was a mistake. Weiss couldn’t classify it as anything else, even with how good it felt to be pressed against Blake, a simple tilt of her hips all that would be required for tight muscle to make contact with where she was beginning to ache most. She didn’t care; it was her mistake to make, her consequences to bear. If the Faunus was going to be the source of her ruin, Weiss wouldn’t have it said she did anything by half-measures.
“I know.” That truth didn’t cull the plea out of her tone; she wasn’t sure anything could.
“Then tell me to stop.” Blake said, belying a tremble through that powerful frame, the last threads of self-control threatening to unravel.
“I don’t want you to stop.” Weiss whispered.
Everything she been taught about sex had always been carefully filtered, barely more than the biological essentials, until she had finally come to the conclusion that her father valued her innocence as another potential bargaining chip. The realization had fueled Weiss with as much anger as disgust, prompting a rebellion wherever she could find it; within books and whispers, from the sensation evoked when her hands traveled over her own skin. Knowledge was power and ignorance appalling, but he wasn’t awake now, wasn’t here to stop the hands that lay her down on the bed, that were stripping away her stockings with a hunger she had only dreamed of.
Weiss retaliated in kind, pushing the open shirt off Blake’s shoulders, tugging until it could be cast completely aside. Even without looking, she could trace the tattoos down the slightly raised lines of the ink, feeling out the patterns as they looped and blended into one another down the Faunus’ arms. There was warm breath and the briefest scrape of teeth against the curve of her throat as Blake unzipped her skirt, freeing the hem of her shirt and camisole. It was all happening so fast; everything with the Faunus was spontaneous combustion, tearing her life apart before it was stitched back together again.
More than anything else, she found solace every time their mouths met, the interplay of tongue and teeth secondary to that promise of intimacy. Kissing Blake was like drinking poison, sweet in its promise of obliteration. Appropriate then, that belladonna was used by queens and maidens alike, used to slay entire armies. Weiss knew her history, had a thousand wars and conflicts memorized, but there wasn’t any defense for this, no salvation when the enemy found a way into one’s bed.
That didn’t stop the nervous hitch in her breath when Blake pulled her blouse over her head, leaving her with only the scant protection of the camisole and panties. Weiss wanted nothing more than to tug open the Faunus’ belt, yank down that zipper and trousers alike with confidence born of long practice, but she didn’t have it. There was already so much to explore; the defined muscle of Blake’s abdomen, the way it would feel to have her tongue along the hollow of that collarbone, the breasts that weren’t her own. Even the ears were a source of curiosity, whether or not she was allowed to touch them.
“Is something wrong?” Blake’s voice, already deeper than her own, had dropped a bit lower on the scale.
“I—” Weiss wasn’t ready for that question, hadn’t prepared a lie. “I never—”
“Never…” The Faunus blinked, amber eyes squinting in thought before the realization hit. “Fuck me.”
“That too.” Weiss admitted weakly.
Embarrassment seized her like a vise when Blake’s weight left her body, the Faunus sitting back on both heels. The position was still between her parted knees, a detail Weiss couldn’t readily dismiss, just like she couldn’t dismiss the dilated pupils consuming the amber in Blake’s eyes, the heat and tension that betrayed itself every time she heard a breath taken.
“I’m not right for anyone’s first time.” The Faunus said after a long pause. “I was sure you had—”
“You were sure.” There was no preventing the blush that promptly painted Weiss’ entire face. Was there some signal she had been giving off by mistake? “When was your first?”
“Fifteen.” She was surprised by the automatic answer; Blake usually deliberated over questions for longer than anyone had the right to. “It was different.”
“Of course it was.” Weiss hissed through her teeth. “You think everything about you is different.”
That caught the Faunus off-guard, jaw tensing into that sharp, beautiful line. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
No matter Blake’s intent, the words struck her like a sledgehammer. They had that same vulnerable weight as the Faunus’ stare before their very first kiss, pained and fearful. Weiss could scarcely comprehend how someone who had killed as easily as breathing, who she’d seen strangle a man into unconsciousness, could carry such concern for her well-being. She had always imagined that death cut that part of people out over time, sliver by sliver until nothing was left. Reading the scars underneath Blake’s tattoos told a different story; the Faunus could be hurt, wasn’t immortal, wasn’t perfect. In a way, that was a relief.
“Were you going to hurt me before I said anything?” Weiss asked softly.
Blake’s answer was immediate. “Of course not.”
“Then there’s no reason for you to stop.”
It was glorious to watch those hands, the ones that had just gripped her tight, clench into fists as the Faunus let out a shaking breath. Blake was built like the figure from a nightmare, the implacable hunter who emerged from the shadows. Weiss had forced herself to forget the dreams where she was chased in a pitch black forest to the point of exhaustion, only to caught and ravaged by the beast that haunted her. It had made looking at Blake nearly impossible, an untenable distraction when so much lay on the line.
Weiss’ heart skipped a beat when the Faunus moved forward on hands and knees, carefully closing the distance between them. The kiss that followed was deliberate and slow, the brief swipe of Blake’s tongue over her lower lip earning a shiver. She was breathless on the withdrawal, looking for any sign of what the gesture meant.
“Blake—”
“Tell me if it hurts. Tell me if you want to stop.” The Faunus whispered against her mouth, as if saying it too loud risked it becoming the truth. “Alright?”
“I promise.” Weiss uttered it like a prayer.
The next kiss was a bit more urgent, a confirmation, and she welcomed it. Finding where to put her hands was the next step as Blake’s lips trailed down her jaw, although the Faunus didn’t seem to protest no matter where she wandered. Weiss traced over black claws and chains, felt the shift of muscle under scarred flesh when fingers began to trace along the hem of her camisole. She wasn’t divested of it quite yet; Blake’s mouth was memorizing the length of her collarbone, alternating sucking and the controlled edge of teeth until Weiss let out a moan.
Compared to their initial clash, the more even pace was maddening, drawing her arousal to the surface only to deny it succor. By the time Blake’s hands had found their way halfway up her ribs, Weiss was desperate to have the camisole gone, the fabric a taunting bit of friction against her skin in all the places she wanted the Faunus to be.
“Take it off.” She said, heedless of of the whimper that cut through the words.
Blake’s laugh was a deep rumble, satisfied instead of mocking. The camisole was stripped away in a matter of seconds, replaced with a caress between her breasts, the promise of a bite over one hardened nipple. Weiss watched a twitch go through the Faunus’ ears when her fingers found purchase in black curls, intent on stroking through the wild tangles. Although she knew it risked Blake stopping and starting all over again, she couldn’t help but ask.
“Does this feel good?” Weiss drew a single fingertip down the back of one velvet-like ear, offering only the slightest contact.
It was the first time she had seen the Faunus shiver, immediately followed by a purr of, “Yes.”
Emboldened by the response, Weiss echoed the caress with a bit more pressure, and the groan she received in turn was exhilarating. Blake’s mouth continued its path down her stomach, each stroke of the Faunus’ tongue over her skin drawing out whimpers and louder sounds that simply wouldn’t stay put in her throat. By the time she felt the nip of teeth just above her hip, felt them catch on the band of her panties, it sunk in just where Blake was intent on going. Weiss’ fingers tensed against both ears, earning a growl that was caught between surprise and desire.
“What are you doing?” She asked breathlessly.
The Faunus’ eyes flickered up to meet hers, that hunger she wanted revealed in spades. “Keeping my hands out of trouble.”
Weiss didn’t quite parse the meaning until Blake’s head ducked back down and she felt that warm mouth against her center. Even through the fabric, it sent a sudden spike of pleasure through her entire body, hips instinctively jerking forward.
“Oh—”
She thanked every god with a name that the Faunus didn’t take her alarm as a sign to pause, starting to tug the underwear down her thighs instead. Weiss blushed when it got trapped between her knees, stubborn and elastic, forcing Blake to shift before they could be removed completely. There was only a second’s pause in the Faunus’ rhythm, Blake easily settling back down and placing a kiss just below Weiss’ belly button. Her fingers delved back into that dark mane, experimentally pulling on a few strands right near the base of Blake’s ears.
The vibration from the Faunus’ mouth felt entirely different pressed right against her, dragging a choked sound from her throat. Weiss barely had time to recover before there was a jolt of pure heat parting her open, the next stroke of Blake’s tongue just as shocking as the first. Her own touch never had her trembling, never forced her back to arch up off the bed. She wanted more and it was given twice over, each pass against her folds setting her nerves alight.
None of that compared to the first thrust of Blake’s tongue inside her, the realization that she had never been so wet in her life. The Faunus drank deep, working as far as could be managed with Weiss’ uncontrollable squirming every time there was another push, the bridge of Blake’s nose brushing against the base of her clitoris between each eager lap and lick. When roughened hands, previously idle beneath her thighs, moved to claim her hips and pinned them down against the bed, her struggle only intensified. Weiss knew Blake had the strength to keep her still; she reveled in it.
The burning tension low in her belly was becoming more unbearable by the second, spreading through her legs and up her back. Whatever was left of Weiss’ cogent thought offered a reminder that this was quick, so much faster than she ever worked herself up to, but it didn’t matter. She tugged Blake’s ears a little harder than intended, but the reward was the bite of nails in the hollows of her hips, pain blending so easily into pleasure that Weiss fought not to scream.
“Please—”
Weiss didn’t even know was she was pleading for, but the answer was the Faunus’ lips wrapping around her clitoris and sucking, hard. It forced her over the edge in an instant, the continuous strokes of Blake’s tongue against the sensitive bud urging the wave of ecstasy higher and higher until Weiss cried out, not caring who heard. In a fit of pique, the white-hot moment of elation, she wanted everyone to hear. Guards, maids, even the twice-damned White Fang; she was the mistress of this house now and claiming it as her own. She had the right - the walls had enclosed her long enough.
When Weiss could feel the outline of her body again, feel more than the constant pulse of pleasure and the way she was clenching tight around nothing, yearning for something she didn’t dare to name, she realized that somewhere in the midst of things her eyes had closed. There was a nervous flutter in her chest before she willed them open, expecting to see disappointment or worse from Blake.
Instead the Faunus was quietly panting, head raised a few inches above her skin. Blake’s mouth and chin was slick with clear fluid that took Weiss a handful of seconds to recognize as her own, wondering if the red tinge to her face would ever fade. She brushed a lock of black hair behind one human ear, the biological quirk something that was a bit beyond her ken. Blake’s response to that touch was muted compared to the way the Faunus reacted when she played with the other set.
“I didn’t—” Blake began.
“Hurt me?” Weiss interrupted. “Not even a little.”
Amber eyes flickered to the pale grooves decorating her hips, left by the harsh press of nails, but Weiss still felt like she was a step from floating out of her skin. There wasn’t any pain, even when she let her knees fall together a few inches. Perhaps modesty was moot at this point, but Blake didn’t lodge any protest, taking it as a sign to move and climb further up the bed, laying to Weiss’ right.
“Should I…” Weiss wanted to see the Faunus completely naked at the least, even if what came next was in question.
“You don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.” Blake said, although there was no mistaking the steady thrum of tension running from head to toe.
“I was just asking if you wanted to take your pants off or if I should.” A smile came to Weiss’ lips, easier than it usually did.
“Mm.”
There was a shift in the Faunus’ wiry frame, but before a hand reached down to open the top button, Weiss watched Blake wipe away the remnants of her arousal, only to lick it from the width of the knuckles that did the cleaning. She let out a choked, involuntary sound, not sure whether to be flattered or sink beneath the sheets in embarrassment. Tasting herself had been something she only tried once, coming away from the experience fairly ambivalent. Maybe it was different with someone else.
Weiss didn’t let the train of thought carry any further for the time being, fixated by the sight of Blake’s fingers drawing the zipper of the trousers downward. Despite choosing out the underwear herself, that didn’t prepare Weiss for the sight of it being the only scrap of fabric clinging to the Faunus’ body, nor it being casually stripped away seconds after and leaving Blake entirely bare. She stifled a note of amusement at the discovery that the shock of dark hair between the Faunus’ thighs was even wilder than the curls atop Blake’s head, but in retrospect, it really shouldn’t have been a surprise.
Turning on her side, Weiss reached out to brush her fingers against the rose tattooed in the center of Blake’s chest, reminding herself that counting the petals would probably make things worse rather than better. “Is there anything in particular you like?”
“Do whatever you want.” The Faunus leaned over for a kiss, which she accepted without thinking. Blake didn’t taste like ash anymore, Weiss realized a second too late. “If I don’t like it, I’ll say so.”
Regaining some measure of composure, she moved to straddle Blake’s hips; it would give her a fair view of everywhere she wanted to start. Weiss tried not to let the Faunus’ curious stare unsettle her as she drew her fingers across the breadth of muscular shoulders, keeping the touch light. When she dared to let her nails sink in, scoring the curve of Blake’s biceps, there was no rebuke, only a barely restrained shiver. Weiss didn’t know what to do with whatever she wanted; the people subject to her whims were kept always at arm’s length and said whims were vulnerable to be overridden by Father’s commands.
Would it be cruel to tell Blake that arranging her father’s death had bought her freedom in the process? She knew it had never been the Faunus’ intent, the irony more than enough to ensnare them both, but Weiss was grateful in a manner of speaking.
“Anything?” She asked out loud.
Blake’s brow rose a centimeter. “Try it and see.”
When Weiss leaned forward, her stomach meeting the tight flex of the Faunus’ abdomen, breasts brushing together in a soft, new friction, she withheld a small moan of delight. She kissed down that stolid jaw until her mouth was over Blake’s pulse, the beat slower than Weiss expected. The first rasp of her teeth made it quicken a fraction, enough for her to be satisfied and move lower.
She liked the curve of Blake’s shoulder even better, able to feel the tense lines of muscle beneath her lips. When Weiss bit down, goaded by a darker need, the Faunus shuddered under her, letting out a sound not quite like a gasp. Lingering a second longer than seemed wise, she set her sights on Blake’s collarbone, licking a hot line across its length. No sound that time, but there was a distinct shift in the hips trapped against hers. She smiled and repeated the gesture for its own sake, hands trailing down the unmarked skin along the Faunus’ ribs. Why the area was bare when Blake’s arms were covered with ink down to the wrist was a mystery, but Weiss had a lot of other questions she wanted answered first.
It almost seemed like a game, trying to guess which spots were susceptible to her touch. Neck, yes, sides and sternum less so. Weiss worked her way down inch by inch, experimenting with tongue and teeth and the brush of her hands, soft in some strokes and rougher in others. Blake had yet to refuse or complain, and it had made her bold by the time she got down to the Faunus’ hips, pressing a kiss to the crown etched on the left side. Weiss counted the points, fascinated by the detail put into each dark gem decorating them. Theft and sabotage, marking Blake like a brand.
She bit there too, sucking at the flesh trapped between her teeth. Weiss wanted to leave a mark too, proof that this night really happened. It was a bit of self-delusion, pretending that Blake’s Aura wouldn’t heal the damage in seconds, but the intent behind it was real. When fingers slipped into her hair, Weiss glanced upward, expecting that she had finally gone too far, but the Faunus was merely tugging the tie of her ponytail free. She shook her head so it tumbled down like a curtain, white locks covering the black tuft of hair between the Faunus’ thighs.
When Weiss kissed below the tattoo, plotting a path down and to the right, the first sign of hesitation came with a subtle pull upward.
“It’s a lot more work than it feels like,” Blake warned good-naturedly, although the fact that she was read so easily had its own sting. “Give me your hand.”
With some slight reservation, Weiss obeyed, ready for anything except the Faunus taking two of her fingers between both lips, halting before they went too deep. Blake’s tongue lavished the length of each digit, amber eyes fluttering closed for a split second before her hand was withdrawn. Flustered and desperate not to show it, Weiss simply watched as Blake brought her arm down, the motion deliberate until her knuckles were brushing the top of pitch black curls. She let out an involuntary whimper when the Faunus lead her lower, letting go when her fingertips met slick heat. The invitation was blatant, more than Weiss had let herself long for.
“Like this?” Her fingers pressed forward, sinking into Blake so easily she was briefly worried she was doing something wrong. The angle was completely different than when she touched herself.
The reaction dispelled Weiss’ fear and then some as a deep-throated moan was torn from the Faunus’ throat. Blake even seemed a bit startled at the volume, teeth sinking into a slightly swollen lower lip to stifle the end of the noise.
“Like that.” Blake said, after a moment of silence. Weiss had to wonder what it took to make the Faunus blush, shake that stoicism down to its very foundations. “And this.”
A hand covered the one she had knuckle-deep inside Blake, manipulating the position of her thumb. Weiss understood as soon as she felt the swell of the Faunus’ clitoris, sensitive enough that the initial contact forced a hiss of pleasure from Blake’s lips. The sound was hypnotic, something she planned to hear a dozen times over.
“Find a rhythm.”
She nodded, but the reality was slightly more difficult than her initial assumption. Weiss could only acknowledge Blake’s reactions by proxy, unable to immediately divine the angle that felt best. After a moment, she found a pace that seemed suitable, driving her fingers forward at the same moment her thumb drew uneven circles around the sensitive bud above. Perhaps it would have been easier to split the task between both hands, but Weiss preferred keeping an anchor on the Faunus’ hip, able to squeeze there in the moments her nerves threatened to get the best of her.
It was slow, nearly glacial compared to how easily Blake’s mouth had carried her to orgasm, but Weiss could sense when the Faunus began to tighten around her fingers, the heat building with each stroke. Hitched breaths evolved into a low groan, the rough palm that had been stroking her hair shifting to a more insistent grip.
“Harder, Weiss.” Blake growled.
Hearing her name on the Faunus’ lips, rare in and of itself but never dripping with desire before, put a surge of energy behind the next thrust, earning the hissed curse she’d been looking for. Weiss held that bright stare as she urged her fingers faster, letting her fears about being too rough bleed away as Blake started to tremble, corded muscle visible in the flex of both thighs, the Faunus’ sculpted core. There was an ache along the inside of her wrist, but she resolutely ignored it, not planning to stop until Blake signaled otherwise.
Mercifully, her endurance was more than enough, the sharp arch of the Faunus’ back a prelude to instinctive jerks of Blake’s hips, driving Weiss’ fingers deep as they could go. She savored every moment, but most of all the breathless utterance of oh fuck, delivered with Blake’s face twisted halfway into her pillow. It wasn’t a blush, but Weiss would take whatever cracks in composure she could, especially when her touch was the source. She prided herself on being a quick learner; perhaps the trick would come with time.
When the Faunus settled back against the bed, chest and face colored with the flush of exertion, Weiss withdrew her fingers, flexing them slowly to see if there was a twinge. The ache didn’t immediately fade, but at least she hadn’t done something mortifying like spraining her wrist. Sex would have to be reclassified as a hazard if she had to switch the side she drew Myrtenaster from, even if it was just for a night.
Hoping her brief nervous lapse hadn’t been too apparent, Weiss moved back up the length of Blake’s body, intent on claiming a kiss. It was welcomed with a good deal of indulgence, the Faunus’ arms wrapping around her shoulders in a loose embrace.
“The police will be along to arrest you any minute.” She whispered against Blake’s mouth.
“As well they should.” The Faunus replied, tone surprisingly light. “Can I count on your lawyers to get me off?”
In all the venom they exchanged, sometimes blunted to dry wit, Weiss couldn’t recall the last time Blake had made any attempt at a joke. A soft laugh left her lips, the glow of pleasure dropping by degrees into bone-deep exhaustion. There was too little to laugh about in her life; a simple truth that had persisted long before she knew the Faunus even existed.
“For a price.” Weiss said softly.
There was no answer then, only Blake’s careful tilt to the right, putting them both on their sides. Weiss turned around so her back pressed against the Faunus’ chest, holding onto the glimmer of hope that she wouldn’t find the bed empty in the morning. It was too much to say aloud, the rejection something she wasn’t willing to bear, so she compromised for taking comfort in the fact that Blake tugged the sheets over their bodies, that one scarred arm etched with a hundred symbols she couldn’t decipher came to rest around her waist, pulling possessively tight before a dreamless sleep pulled her under.
—-
Weiss had forgotten about the stockholder meeting she had until an hour after sunrise, startled awake even without having set the alarm on her scroll. Panic gave way to surprise when she heard a disgruntled growl, turning just in time to see Blake’s eyes flutter open. Of course the Faunus would be a terribly light sleeper, she thought with disdain, only to realize that meant Blake had stayed with her throughout the night. Condemning what few blessings she could count probably wasn’t the best way to start her morning.
“There’s still some time before breakfast.” Blake murmured with an audible hint of fatigue.
“Do all Faunus have a running internal clock?” Weiss asked.
“It’s not that hard to tell when the routine is the same every day.”
Blake sat up in one smooth motion, arms extending upward in a long stretch. The mouth of the tattooed wolf flexed along the Faunus’ back, a strange effect Weiss took no small amount of amusement in. It would serve well as a White Fang icebreaker if they had any humor to spare.
She wasn’t used to going through her morning routine with someone else around, although Blake disappeared into the opposite bedroom after borrowing a robe. It was far too short for the Faunus, but quite a bit easier than getting dressed only to strip down again for the sake of a different suit. Seeing Blake in white was a novelty, for the moment it lasted.
A single glance in the bathroom mirror revealed a spate of bruises, although thankfully none of them high enough on her throat to need concealing. Weiss put herself together as if it was like any other day, attempting to pay no mind to the subtle aches in her limbs, the slight stiffness in her left wrist. Doing a mental run over the figures for the meeting helped to align her expression, returning it to ice, impassive and imperious.
She was redoing her ponytail when Blake came back into the room, not entirely pleased with how it was sitting when she looked straight ahead. The Faunus approached in silence as had happened a hundred mornings before, but rather than waiting for her to finish, Weiss was surprised with a soft tug on a few pale strands. It didn’t hurt, but it was certainly an interruption.
“You wear your hair that way on purpose, don’t you?” Blake asked. “Off-center so others will see.”
Weiss’ eyes narrowed slightly. “What of it?”
“Let go.” The Faunus said, although the words had the saving grace of a request instead of an order.
Somewhat wary, Weiss complied nonetheless, removing both hands from her hair and the matching band with it. She couldn’t see where Blake’s touch went for a moment, the reflection concealed by her own shoulders, but it became obvious when her hair was swept back, the Faunus’ fingers moving in a quick, predictable pattern. Weiss had braided her own hair as a child, enjoying the intricate updos she was allowed to wear to parties and ceremonies, but after her mother’s death, all the celebration had gone out of Father’s events, his compliments becoming scathing indictments of vanity. She had surrendered to a more simple style, the angle and occasional piece of jewelry stirring his resentment but never drawing it all the way to the surface.
“Turn and see.” Blake said.
“What is there to—” Weiss hesitated as the braid came into view.
A black ribbon was entwined along the loops and twists, standing out as plainly as the dark squares of a chessboard. It looked beautiful with the color of her hair, even if it seemed like a stranger’s reflection looking back at her. Weiss had kept her ponytail exactly as it was for years, accustomed to the shape of her shadow when she walked with it bound up high and off-kilter.
“You want to prove to them that you’re different now, not the girl they knew. They think you haven’t changed at all.” Blake’s mouth quirked, edging near a smile. “Show them you have.”
Weiss swallowed past a knot in her throat, averting her eyes from the mirror. “Blake.”
The mirth drained out of the Faunus’ expression. “You can take it out if you want. It was just a thought.”
“No, I—” Of all times for words to fail her, for syllables to string themselves into gibberish. “I’ll see how they react.”
Blake nodded, taking a step back. Weiss cast another look at her reflection before shaking her head, sending the braid over one shoulder. It fell perfectly straight, aligned with the length of her back. There were so many things that could have been said in that moment, apologies and arguments and questions fusing into a meaningless morass of thought.
For now, she settled for silence. It was enough.