It really was only a matter of time, Yukio had always figured, before she would find herself tied to something a lot more interesting than walls and gas pipes. She should have known that Rachel--Kise--had more than a simple occupational interest in bondage. How many times had she found herself tied to a chair, sitting across from Kise’s smug smirk? She fails to come up with an answer to that, especially when Kise is standing at the foot of the bed, slowly pulling off her dress.
“I have to say, this greeting is a bit new,” Yukio says, voice surprisingly calm and even, like she doesn’t feel her stomach fluttering in anticipation.
Kise smiles. “I like to think that I don’t let things get boring,” she answers, before kicking off her heels and climbing onto the bed, and right into Yukio’s lap. “Besides, it wouldn’t do if MI6’s best got complacent, now would it?”
And it’s completely unfair that Kise is seated comfortably in her lap, clad in little else but lacey panties, while Yukio still has pants on. She tries to articulate this with something other than a whimper, but Kise starts undoing her shirt, starts touching her neck and trailing kisses over the bared skin there, and Yukio’s mouth falls open on a sigh. To her credit, Kise doesn’t waste time, sucking a trail of hickeys up her neck and kissing her full on the mouth.
Yukio really doesn’t know what to make of this--what to make of Kise pushing her tongue past her lips and licking into Yukio’s mouth, or how she’s supposed to respond when Kise starts untucking her shirt and scratching her nails against the small of her back. She falls back on instinct, tugs at her wrists to find that there’s a little bit of give, just enough for her to break free.
What she realizes is that she certainly doesn’t want to. Not when Kise is kissing her until her mouth is good for nothing but whining and urging for “More” and “Now.” And Kise is more than accommodating, easily pulling open the rest of her shirt to squeeze her breast. She laughs a little, murmuring “Those waistcoats do your rack no justice” against her cheek. Yukio would retort, preferably with something smart and biting, but then Kise leans down to suck on her breast, and Yukio has nothing to say at all. She pinches her other nipple with her fingers, laps at it with her tongue in small circles until Yukio is shuddering under her touch.
“You’re such a fucking tease,” she gasps. Yukio rolls her hips meaningfully, hoping to get the message across: “Get on with it.”
The appropriate response would have been “Oh, I apologize for causing you great sexual frustration,” but what Yukio gets instead is Kise climbing off of her lap and falling onto the bed with a dramatic sigh.
“‘Patience is a virtue,’ Ms. Bond,” she says, practically lounging there in front of her.
Yukio splutters, trying to come up with an adequate way to react to this situation--trying to think of a solution that doesn’t involve begging. She settles on glowering, which she is sure would be a lot more effective if she weren’t tied to a headboard, wet and turned on beyond belief.
“‘Good things come to those who wait’?” Kise tries again, without a hint of remorse in her expression. Yukio rolls her eyes. “No, I don’t think that’s quite how the phrase goes...”
Then Kise pulls off her panties in one quick, fluid motion, before she starts touching herself. Yukio swallows at that, watching Kise trace her slit in a slow and languid circle.
“Oh, that’s right,” she says laughingly. “‘Good things come to those who touch themselves.’” Yukio could strangle her.
What happens, though, is that she’s left to watch as Kise pushes in a finger. She doesn’t deny herself a second one as she starts fucking herself on her fingers. She arches her back, squeezing her breasts and moaning. Yukio is dying to touch her, to push in her fingers next to Kise’s and find out all the ways she can make her scream. Her breath hitches when she meets Kise’s eyes and she can’t find it in herself to be embarrassed when she whimpers.
“It’s such a sad world,” Kise sighs, “when a girl has to satisfy herself.” She hasn’t stopped fingering herself.
Yukio’s throat is suddenly dry as she croaks out, “Let me.”
Kise stops then, slowly getting to her knees. She tilts her head, like she’s thinking very hard about whether to give this proposal any consideration. “I don’t know, it seems like you’re rather not up to the task.”
Yukio shakes her head. “N-No, I am.”
“Hmm, well, if you say so.” Kise smiles at her playfully, before she’s shoving her fingers, wet and sticky, into Yukio’s mouth. “How do I taste?” she asks. Yukio can only moan around her fingers, lick and suck at them in hopes for more.
When Kise pulls her fingers out, Yukio barely has time to protest before she’s treated to Kise sitting on her face. She leans up and gives an experimental lick, is rewarded with a whine, low in Kise’s throat. It’s then that Yukio pushes her tongue inside, starts fucking Kise hard and fast.
“I--I think about this all the time,” Kise admits, voice gone high and breathless. Yukio wants nothing more than to flip her over and go down on her in earnest. She makes do by licking Kise’s folds, finding her clit and flicking at it in tight little circles. It's satisfying to hear how wrecked Kise sounds when she speaks. “I think about you holding me down and having your way with me.” Her hand tightens in Yukio’s hair, pulling hard enough for it to hurt. “I want you to fuck me into the wall and make me scream.”
Yukio whimpers at that, thinks about the way Kise must pass the time fantasizing about them, how she touches herself between the sheets to thoughts of Yukio eating her out. She can see it there, all in her head: how eager Kise would be to let Yukio test how many fingers she could take before she would grab her wrist, desperate, and beg to be fucked. Kise’s thighs clench around her head and she’s helpless but to comply to Kise’s demands--harder and yes and like that.
She licks along her slit, tastes how wet she is and feels Kise coming apart. She’s stroking Yukio’s hair, pushing back her bangs and calling her a good girl; not just a good girl, but her good girl, and it has Yukio sobbing out a moan.
"That's a good girl. Be good for me now and we can do all those things later, too,” Kise breathes.
It doesn’t take long before she’s coming, throwing her head back and choking on Yukio’s name. Yukio fucks her slowly, easing her through her orgasm as she laps up her release until Kise gives a content sigh and pulls off of her. She flops down beside Yukio, still catching her breath. Propping herself up on an arm, she looks at Yukio and grins.
“I have to say, 007, I didn’t think you had it in you to get the job done,” she says, tracing the marks she left on Yukio’s neck.
“I hardly think that orgasms are the high point of any agent’s career in espionage,” Yukio retorts, trying to ignore the compulsion she feels to ask to be fucked and fucked hard now, with the emphasis on “now.”
The curve of Kise’s mouth turns sly as she starts moving again. Yukio curses her lack of foresight and prays to every higher power she can think of that she isn’t transported to the MI6 like this. Thankfully, the possibility doesn’t seem to have occurred to Kise, who looks more amused than she has any right to be.
“I think orgasms definitely count as a high point in any person’s life.” She no doubt thinks that she’s hilarious; Yukio begs to differ.
“If you’re quite done with the wordplay,” Yukio mutters darkly in response.
Kise pats Yukio’s cheek once, and then she promptly starts undoing her pants, making quick work of them as she flings the pair to a corner of the room. Yukio isn't sure if she should take offense to Kise's obvious scrutiny.
“It’s a pity that you couldn’t invest in lingerie not reminiscent of a middle schooler’s underpants," she sighs, mouth twisting up sadly.
“Is that really what you’re going to focus on here!” Yukio snaps.
Her less than impressive lingerie, apparently, doesn’t stop Kise from touching her through her panties though, as she starts tracing against her slit.
“You got so wet,” she murmurs, sounding awed.
“Like something else was supposed to happen,” Yukio says, pushing down against Kise’s fingers. Kise finally accedes, pulls down Yukio’s panties and leaves them to join her pants on the floor.
"I guess," she breathes, kissing up her thigh, "that you've been awfully patient, Ms. Bond."
Yukio can feel her breath quicken, entirely of its own volition. She can feel Kise's breath right there, hot against her folds, and she really doesn't care if she has to resort to begging at this point.
"Kise," she whines. And that's all Kise needs before she starts licking at Yukio's slit. Yukio arches, tries to push her hips against Kise's face for more, because she's so, so wet, and it's really all Kise's fault.
She looks down at where Kise is, kneeling between her legs. "Don't tease," she pleads, and Kise nods, before letting her eyes fall closed as she pushes her tongue inside Yukio and starts eating her out.
Thinking is definitely out of the picture. As is talking or begging, or pretty much anything but lying there and making noises, which she can only hope are along the lines of please and faster and oh god, Kise. Her mouth hangs open slackly as she tries to remember how to breathe, or what anything is past Kise's tongue and Kise's fingers--three of them--fucking her in a hard and steady rhythm.
She watches Kise, thinks about how poised and well put together she is, whether it be in the middle of an explosion or a category five hurricane. This Kise, the one who's sucking on her clit and making quiet humming noises against her skin, is nothing like that. She's rarely this intent, rarely this focused on any task at hand, because everything seems to come to her as though it were second nature. The way her brows are furrowed and the way her fingers shake in their hold on her hip gives off no such impression--and it occurs to her that she may very well be nervous. Nervous about sex, with Yukio of all people, and that knocks the breath right out of her.
Kise looks up at her then, pupils blown wide, and Yukio comes screaming.
Some time later, after Kise’s fucked her through her orgasm, Yukio drifts back down from the peak, shuddering from just how hard she came. She feels fingers working to untie her and does absolutely nothing about it when she's free.
"Is that how you're planning on greeting me from now on?" Yukio gives Kise a long look, trying her best to get a solid answer for once. Kise shrugs in a noncommittal gesture and takes her hand; it makes Yukio’s thoughts crash together.
She stops breathing altogether when Kise kisses her wrists.
"They don't hurt, do they?" she asks, so earnestly that Yukio shakes her head even though she feels the sting where the scarves chafed against her skin. All the other questions she means to ask, both pertinent and urgent, die away on her lips.
They lie there in silence, and Yukio waits, although she doesn't quite know for what. Minutes pass and Kise's breath evens out to one of peaceful slumber. Yukio, heart in her throat, pulls the sheet over them both and closes her eyes too. The answers can wait for tomorrow.