Zhao Yunlan has a type. She likes strength, beauty, and surprises. It doesn't surprise anyone, then, when she starts flirting with Professor Shen even as she also flirts with the Black Cloaked Envoy. These wildly opposite people just inexplicably both do it for her at the same time, in very different ways.
Maybe it's the chin.
Professor Shen dresses like an old man, but makes it work like she's stepped out of a magazine. Her posture speaks of toned muscles and being grounded in her body, self-assured in a way Zhao Yunlan never observed in any of her teachers. Zhao Yunlan wants to give her a ride on her motorcycle, to share good meals with her. She wants to make her forget about any grading that's waiting in the other room as she takes Shen Wei apart with hands and tongue and sweet words.
The Black Cloaked Envoy, though. That is a motorcycle: a dangerous, barely contained wild creature in a gorgeous, mysterious package.
Zhao Yunlan wants to be the sole attention of the Envoy's burning gaze, she wants her powerful hands to lift her off her feet. She wants to spar with the Envoy, get tangled on floors and bedsheets, to peel apart all of her control.
Crudely put, she wants to sit with Shen Wei, but she wants the Black Cloaked Envoy to sit on her face. She craves to feel the edges of that mask against her own thighs, that mouth on her clit, and those powerful eyes to see her through impossibly long lashes.
Zhao Yunlan expects Shen Wei to quickly give in to her relentless, shameless flirting.
She's delightfully shocked when the Black Cloaked Envoy yields first.
It happens in Zhao Yunlan's office. It's very late, everybody got sent home after a difficult day. The Black Cloaked Envoy and Zhao Yunlan have spent hours pouring over reports trying to find the one clue that might exonerate the accused elderly Dixingren. Despite every clue pointing his way, Zhao Yunlan's gut told her he was innocent.
They finally find the key to the case by comparing two near-identical copies of some document, and Zhao Yunlan texts Jin Ling what he needs to know to take it from there.
There's nothing left to do beside pick up the files they've spread across the room and go home to finally rest.
Zhao Yulan tilts back the last of her liquor and takes a last shot at soliciting the Envoy, crooking her a smile and sliding her a heavy look over the rim of her glass as she says, "You didn't have to stay and help me, but I'm glad you did. Please, let me repay you for this, in any way I can."
The Black Cloaked Envoy frowns at her, seeming oddly upset. Zhao Yunlan has that effect on everyone, but the Envoy must be exhausted to forget to hide it. "You do flirt with anyone."
Zhao Yunlan blinks. "No. Just those who catch my attention."
The Black Cloaked Envoy starts to say something, but catches herself and looks away. She starts over. "What does one have to do to lose your attention?"
For most people, this would be a signal to stop. For Zhao Yunlan's sharp sense of interpersonal playground, it's an opening. She gambles on it, and wins far more than she loses.
They end up on the floor. Zhao Yunlan's pants and underwear are… somewhere. She loses track as soon as the Black Cloaked Envoy slips them off and descends upon her cunt, as intense and gloriously talented in this as in combat.
The Black Cloaked Envoy doesn't even remove her wristguards before sliding her strong hands up Zhao Yunlan's loose shirt, as if Zhao Yunlan was part of whatever battle kept her tense all the time.
Her nails are short, but still scratch nasty lines down Zhao Yunlan's back. The Black Cloaked Envoy doesn't seem to notice, so intent on eating Zhao Yunlan out like she's been starving for it for years, and Zhao Yunlan is not going to interrupt to let her know.
She can't refrain from hissing, but pushes down hard on the Black Cloaked Envoy's head when she seems to even think about stopping to ask. "No, stay there, exactly where you are. You're so good at this. How are you so good at this?!" Zhao Yunlan moans.
The Envoy sucks Zhao Yunlan's clit, worrying it between her lips and tugging at it, then letting go and soothing it with large laps of her tongue. Zhao Yunlan had fantasised about her being cold and precise, or even aggressive in bed, but not this: pushing all her buttons like she personally studied them, scorchingly intense. Surely this must be one of her Dixingren powers, because no one has ever been able to get Zhao Yunlan to orgasm this fast. This is the best fucking lay of Zhao Yunlan's life and she doesn't even know her partner's name or face.
Zhao Yunlan could cry, but she magnanimously chooses to live in the moment and shouts instead, clamping her thighs close on the Envoy's head as she rides her climax on the Envoy's tongue. If anyone can take a little head crushing, it's the Black Cloaked Fucking Envoy who just made her see new universes.
The Envoy even seems to know when Zhao Yunlan has had too much, because she slows her licking and kneels up from between Zhao Yunlan's legs just as she was getting too sensitive.
Zhao Yunlan catches her breath for a little while, staring at the ceiling and reveling in her luck. The Envoy starts to move away, but Zhao Yunlan wraps her legs around the Envoy's waist and holds her down. "Nuh huh, sister. We're not done. Just. Give me a minute."
"Not done? What do you mean?" The Envoy sounds honestly puzzled, her voice soft and low as always, and her beautiful chin still dripping wet from Zhao Yunlan's cunt. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
"Can we kiss?" Zhao Yunlan blurts. "Can I kiss you? Please say yes."
The Envoy is barely halfway through her acquiescence before Zhao Yunlan pounces on her. She straddles her, bracing herself on the Black Cloaked Envoy’s strong shoulder and holding the back of her neck as she tastes those lips with her own, at long, impossible last.
The Envoy responds to her like a wilting flower to rain, and Zhao Yunlan chases her own desire along the Envoy's taste.
"Let me return the favour." Zhao Yunlan pleads, trailing lips along her soft jaw. "This was supposed to be about me paying off my debt."
"You could never be indebted to me," the Envoy rasps, vehement in her conviction, though her voice is breathless.
That makes no sense. As Lady Guardian, Zhao Yunlan hasn't interacted with her often enough yet to warrant such a broad statement, but she intends to rectify this and see a lot more of the Envoy from now on, if she‘s allowed.
"For my own peace of mind. I couldn't live with myself if I let you go like this. Let me do this, please?" Zhao Yunlan begs, since it worked so well the first time.
The Envoy hesitates, and Zhao Yunlan deploys her nastiest puppy eyes. The Envoy sighs softly in defeat, head dropping. Are her cheeks flushing under the mask, or is she overheating at last, under all these layers?
"Alright. Your hands…" she trails off.
Zhao Yunlan, when properly motivated, can follow instructions very well.
Zhao Yunlan pushes the Black Cloaked Envoy to the floor via gripping her cloak, and kisses her thoroughly again, ending with a playful tug at her lower lip. With a perverted smirk at the Envoy's dazed expression, Zhao Yunlan starts shuffling through the robes over her legs. There's what seems like two dozen of them, and Zhao Yunlan is getting impatient - honestly, she's eaten out bridesmaids with less layers than this - when her seeking fingers at last meet flesh.
Hungrily, she runs her hand up, traveling long, lean legs and hooking down the stretchy material of underwear. Even one-handed, she can expertly slide them down without looking away from the Envoy's mesmerizing face, only sparing a glance at the unremarkable white underwear as she casts it aside.
"Ah-- Chief Zhao, …" the Envoy bites back her own words again, legs closing around Zhao Yunlan's hand when she puts it back on the spot she just freed, and Zhao Yunlan takes uncharacteristic pity for her in the name of international diplomacy.
"I'm here," Zhao Yunlan reassures her, and lies half on top of her, both for comfort and to subtly pin her down, as if the Black Cloaked Envoy couldn't lift her with one hand (which is incredibly hot). Zhao Yunlan lets her fingers explore the Envoy, finding her slick and gratifyingly on edge.
At the slightest press to her clitoris, the Envoy immediately responds. She thrusts into Zhao Yunlan's hand, tilting her head back so that her intricately braided hair spills out of her hood, and Zhao Yunlan is stricken at how gorgeous and complex the Envoy is, mask included. She seamlessly swings from reserved to unrestrained, rigid to selfless. Those eyes alone could both freeze a whole town and light a fire. She doesn't even seem to be wearing make-up, how can her lashes look so long.
Zhao Yunlan's hand works fast between the Envoy's legs, splaying in her folds, her two middle fingers slipping into her vulva and squeezing the others close so they trap and play with the Envoy's labia. The heel of Zhao Yunlan's palm presses and rolls mercilessly against the Envoy's clitoris, ruthlessly quick. Her other hand slips to the back of the Envoy’s sweaty nape and grips her hair, angling their mouths together. It all feels amazing, hot and soft and wet. Zhao Yunlan is both chagrined and kinkily thrilled that she's having amazing sex with this goddess and she's mostly only seen her hands and half her face.
Of course, she yearns to see the Envoy's ass, to grip her waist, squeeze her breasts, trace her clavicles, and card fingers through her long hair. However, since it already took so much work to convince the Envoy that Zhao Yunlan desperately needed to finger her, Zhao Yunlan won't push her luck - this once.
Zhao Yunlan plays with the Envoy's body for maximum efficiency, trying a bit of everything at once with what she can reach. She's getting the feeling that the Envoy is considering this to be a one-time fling, and Zhao Yunlan might only have one shot at proving her how terribly wrong that would be. Damn, if this is how their first time goes, Zhao Yunlan cannot wait for their 10,000th time.
The Envoy gasps in her grip - her composure melting as boiling ice, to the point that after a few hard flicks, like an iceberg sinks in the sea, she breaks off a messy kiss to bite into her own thick sleeve and muffle her noises. Zhao Yunlan drinks her in with rapt amazement: the Envoy's long neck, the tightness to her jaw behind her arm, her eyes clenched shut as Zhao Yunlan makes her body scream. The Envoy's free hand comes up to her hood and hair, tugging at both harshly, like she's too polite to grip Zhao Yunlan or the papers strewn around them, but in her overloading needing to claw something. Zhao Yunlan obliges as well, twisting at a fistful of hair, and the Envoy tilts needily into the pull.
It dislodges her mask a little, crooking it, and for all that she's dying to witness this beauty fully, Zhao Yunlan knows this isn't what the Envoy had in mind. She slows down her hand, keeps her fingers deep inside the Envoy but cupping the rest instead of trying to give herself pubic hair burn. She strokes her neck. "Shh, shh, hey. A bit too much, huh?"
The Envoy slowly blinks her eyes open, expression blurred. "Why -"
Zhao Yunlan gently removes the Envoy's own arm from her mouth, and flicks a nail against her crooked mask. "This almost came off. I thought you'd - rather not."
The Envoy blinks owlishly at her a few more times (fuck, she's an incredibly strong soldier, she shouldn't be adorable), then visibly gets flustered. Her hands come up to her face to rectify the angle of the mask, then fiddle with something at the back of her head, beneath the hood - presumably tightening back up the strap holding it in place. "No, you're right, I - thank you. I - "
Zhao Yunlan grins at her, putting on her own mask to hide how it hurts that the Envoy won't trust her, despite all this. She gently jostles the hand she still has pressed to the Envoy's cunt. "No problem!" she chirps jovially. "Now, I'd really like to continue, but I have a proposal."
The Envoy stifles a gasp, then eyes Zhao Yunlan warily. "Go on," she says, grave, like she expects something bad and is already resigned to it. Zhao Yunlan hates it.
"How about you turn around, and you let me finish, and then it won't matter if your mask slips off."
The Envoy startles, yet shifts to demure and pleased as she nods. "That is… acceptable."
Zhao Yunlan holds up her free hand as a quelling motion. "On the condition that you let me hear you, this time."
"What? Why would you want that?" the Envoy asks.
Zhao Yunlan stares at her. Does she not understand why a lover would want to hear her during incredible sex?
Oh, no, Zhao Yunlan thinks to herself. I am fucked.
She has a thing for broken people. "Takes one to love one, and all," she wryly tells Da Qing every time he complains about her choices of bedfellows.
Zhao Yunlan takes a slow breath and says, making big doe eyes. "Oh, it's because if I can't see your face, then I won't know if I accidentally hurt you. And I would never want to hurt you, Hei Pao Shi Jie."
The Envoy narrows her eyes at Zhao Yunlan, smelling her bullshit, but seems unable to find flaw in that logic. At last, she agrees.
Zhao Yunlan removes her hand and lets the Envoy flip over. Where the Envoy just - lies. "Sweetheart," Zhao Yunlan coaxes, trying not to laugh. "My hands are messy, I can't lift your clothes. Please push them aside?"
The Envoy does so, getting to her knees to lift the hems from beneath them. She reveals extremely long and finely muscled legs, with knee-high pristine socks. White and practical, as her perfectly proper underwear had been. Her ass is even more amazing as Zhao Yunlan dreamed it to be, her lips a gleaming dusty invitation. Zhao Yunlan licks her lips. "Could you raise your hips for me?" she asks, because she could never be satisfied with only one bite of this cake and she knew it from the start. To her amazement, the Envoy complies - she cants her hips higher, getting to hands and knees, giving Zhao Yunlan an even prettier show, her robes and hair spilling to either side like waterfalls of black ink.
If Zhao Yunlan hadn't already had the best orgasm of her life tonight, she'd be touching herself at this sight alone.
Draping herself over the Envoy quickly before this dream ends, she whispers, "Thank you," into her shoulder, gets her still-wet hand back between the Envoy's thighs and wraps the fingers of her free hand over one of the Envoy's hands on the floor.
Zhao Yunlan slides her thumb lightly down the Envoy's labia, her vestibule, and kisses the pad to the Envoy's clithood. A mean tease, after having cranked the Envoy up earlier, but she wants to know, needs to hear - the Envoy gasps, and rocks back into Zhao Yunlan's hand.
Zhao Yunlan's heart sings, her head spins, and her own cunt clenches. Yeah, they'll make this work wonderfully.
After that, Zhao Yunlan doesn't play around (too much). She pushes her thumb into the Envoy's vagina and flicks at the Envoy's clit with the rest of her fingers, rolling it between knuckles and drawing circles around and over it, again and again. The Envoy sighs and even moans a couple of times, which really does it for Zhao Yunlan.
If the mask drops again, Zhao Yunlan would never know, because she has her burning face pressed into the Envoy's shoulder, making her own set of noises because this is so. fucking. hot. At last, the Envoy tenses all over, going so rigid she's trembling, teetering to the edge. Zhao Yunlan bites down as hard as she can into the thick fabric over the Envoy's shoulderblade, possessive, making sure the Envoy feels it, just as she violently shakes the hand she has over that wonderful cunt one last time. The Envoy cries out and bucks, almost dislodging Zhao Yunlan, and her vulva contracts around Zhao Yunlan's fingers like an old wedding ring.
"That's it, wonderful, you are amazing," Zhao Yunlan babbles praises, incredibly pleased with herself.
Carefully, she lets her hand slide away, leaving a wet smear on the Envoy's trembling, tender inner thigh. For a breathless second, Zhao Yunlan wrestles with the feral urge to bite that flesh, lick that spot, claim this soft skin over strong muscles as hers. But she breathes out instead, and carefully picks up a corner of the Envoy's robes by the very tip of her fingers to modestly drape some layers back over delectable legs. It is as much to keep the Envoy's privacy as to remove the temptation from her immediate sight. (Not from her mind. The mental videofeed of the Envoy's clutching cunt and her soft bitten off gasps are forever seared in Zhao Yunlan's mind, and she will shamelessly masturbate to it for years if she can't ever have this again.)
At that point, Zhao Yunlan realises she cannot move the hand that was holding the Envoy's. At some point, the Envoy found a way to lace their fingers together, and is holding on with a firm, unyielding grip.
Zhao Yunlan is so startled she's at a loss for words. Her cheeks warm, she swallows thickly, and squeezes back the Envoy's fingers with her own. Her mouth is close enough to a red-tipped ear, and for a wild moment, Zhao Yunlan wants to kiss her, and kiss her, and kiss her, and slip her mask off, and kiss her more. She wants to know more about this person, share stories, and do this again with better knowledge of each other.
But that isn't what the Envoy wants.
So instead, Zhao Yunlan swallows sour thoughts before putting on a small smile as she says, "Is this your way of asking for another round?" She noses at the hair draping over the Envoy's flushed ear, gives it a playful nip, and reflexively moves back when the Envoy jumps a little and turns her head to look at her.
"Another- oh!" The Envoy flusters as she catches up, immediately releasing Zhao Yunlan's hand and looking away. "My apologies. I meant to let you go."
It is, perhaps, a little too honest and direct in the Envoy's hazy post-orgasmic state. It stings, deeper than Zhao Yunlan thinks it should. She laughs and unpeels herself from the Envoy's back. "Don't worry about it, darling. Although I wouldn't have been opposed." She winks, and begins straightening her sex-rumpled hair and clothing. Where did her underwear go? "But I won't keep you from your more important duties. You're bound for a trip to the underworld, now that the case is wrapped up, mm?" Screw it, she doesn't need underwear. Feeling stubborn, she doesn't look up as she tugs her jeans back on and shrugs into her leather jacket.
There's a rustle as the Envoy puts herself back together with far more graceful manners, stroking down wrinkles like a cat smoothing ruffled fur. "Ah...yes, that's right." Her voice sounds deeper than usual, perhaps heavier from fatigue. If it sounds as if it's been dragged over gravel, surely that's Zhao Yunlan's ego projecting.
When Zhao Yunlan glances her way, the Envoy is standing by the office door. Her mask is firmly affixed as usual, and with her hood pulled back up she is once again cloaked in finest black.
"Thank you," she mumbles, an awkwardness coming off her that clashes with the pristine robes and the elaborate mask and the power of the Black Cloaked Envoy. She vanishes in a curl of smoke and stardust before Zhao Yunlan can reply.
Zhao Yunlan is left to stare at empty space, her feelings churning.
Then she stomps off to wash the Envoy's scent off her pruned hands. This certainly was a night full of surprises.