[ in this small, private space, held together by thin nails and fraying bits of twine, the collision of their bodies disquiets the precarious collection of tools and art alike against the walls. metal toolboxes clank and rattle, wooden masks clatter like bamboo windchimes against their backdrop display.
one falls to the ground, its long, smokepipe mouth clacking against the floorboards as it does. a symbol of good fortune, face down in the dust.
the noise that escapes her when her back hits the wall falls from her lips like she let it — electrified, edging on pleasant in its shock. the bend of her own arm against her throat cuts that indulgence off quickly, and shuten endures the demon slayer's words with her chin angled and her jaw locked.
she listens, and listens, feeling the wash of that hot, hot intent over her skin, the sweetness of her voice and scent like honeydew masking the venom that lies underneath. back arching against the soft wood of the wall, entangling and pressing and pushing against each other — shuten is prepared for the demon slayer to inject her, trapped together like this.
when she finishes, her smile is helpless, flushed pink under the iron-red of the blood still staining her. ]
Regret?
[ she all but sings, breathy and manic, from the slim parting of her lips, one eye squeezed shut against the pain in her joints. ]
Fu, fufu...! Regret — what, sweetie?
[ in spite of the awkward twist of limbs, shuten, with her free hand, snatches that bleached leather belt at the demon slayer's hip, affixing her there. ]
Hah, with the way you're pressed up against me ... the way you're always pressed up against me ... I get the feeling you're just as exhilarated to be doing this as I am. Every time.
[ and with a sudden burst of will, shuten rips her arm out of the girl's grip — her strength still considerable, even weakened, against a warrior who relies on speed and poison.
she captures that wrist swiftly, and pulls her in, fangs and breathless voice in the space between the crook of the girl's neck and ear. ]
no subject
one falls to the ground, its long, smokepipe mouth clacking against the floorboards as it does. a symbol of good fortune, face down in the dust.
the noise that escapes her when her back hits the wall falls from her lips like she let it — electrified, edging on pleasant in its shock. the bend of her own arm against her throat cuts that indulgence off quickly, and shuten endures the demon slayer's words with her chin angled and her jaw locked.
she listens, and listens, feeling the wash of that hot, hot intent over her skin, the sweetness of her voice and scent like honeydew masking the venom that lies underneath. back arching against the soft wood of the wall, entangling and pressing and pushing against each other — shuten is prepared for the demon slayer to inject her, trapped together like this.
when she finishes, her smile is helpless, flushed pink under the iron-red of the blood still staining her. ]
Regret?
[ she all but sings, breathy and manic, from the slim parting of her lips, one eye squeezed shut against the pain in her joints. ]
Fu, fufu...! Regret — what, sweetie?
[ in spite of the awkward twist of limbs, shuten, with her free hand, snatches that bleached leather belt at the demon slayer's hip, affixing her there. ]
Hah, with the way you're pressed up against me ... the way you're always pressed up against me ... I get the feeling you're just as exhilarated to be doing this as I am. Every time.
[ and with a sudden burst of will, shuten rips her arm out of the girl's grip — her strength still considerable, even weakened, against a warrior who relies on speed and poison.
she captures that wrist swiftly, and pulls her in, fangs and breathless voice in the space between the crook of the girl's neck and ear. ]
Why pretend otherwise, Shi ... no ... bu?