"The *fifth* wrong turn in as many minutes," April muttered under her breath, the click of her Flamenco heels echoing too loudly in the narrow alley. The studio's backdoor—supposedly left unlocked—remained stubbornly shut.
A voice slithered from the shadows: "¿Bailas, señorita, o solo miras?"
Her pulse jumped as the man stepped into the jaundiced glow of a flickering streetlamp. His grin was all teeth, no warmth. "I dance," she lied smoothly, rolling her shoulders back so the fringe of her scarlet dress swayed like a challenge. His eyes traced the movement, lingering where the fabric clung to her hips.
Inside, the air was thick with sweat, cigarette smoke, and something sharper—chemicals? The bass from unseen speakers throbbed against her ribs as she maneuvered through bodies pressed too close. A hand grazed the small of her back; she caught a glimpse of a familiar tattoo—*Foot Clan*—peeking from a sleeve.
"You're new," purred a woman with lips painted the same violent red as April's nails. Her fingertips trailed up April's bare arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps. "Let's see if you can keep up." The music swelled, hips and heat and danger folding around her like a second skin.
April tilted her chin, letting her lashes lower just enough. "I can handle more than you think," she murmured, arching into the woman's space—close enough to catch the bitter tang of gunpowder under her perfume. "Why don't you show me what's really going on backstage?"
The woman laughed, low and knowing, fingers tightening around April's wrist. "Curious little thing, aren't you?" Her thumb dug into April's pulse point, pressing hard enough to bruise. "But curiosity…" She leaned in, breath hot against April's ear. "…is bad for business."
April barely had time to register the glint of steel before the woman twisted her arm behind her back—the cold press of a blade kissing the base of her spine. The crowd pulsed on, oblivious. Blood roared in her ears louder than the music.
"Journalists always smell like ink and desperation," the woman hissed, yanking April closer. "Who sent you?" Her free hand slipped beneath the flamenco dress, fingers skimming the inside of April's thigh—too high, too intimate—and found the hidden recorder. "Cute." The blade dug deeper.
A rose-quilled kunai whistled past April's ear, sinking into the woman's shoulder with a wet thunk. "¡Ay, dios mio!" Ageha's voice sliced through the bass like a whip-crack, all throaty amusement. "Tsk-tsk, brujita. Didn't your madre teach you to share?"
The crowd scattered as Ageha sauntered forward, hips rolling with each step. Blood dripped from the thorned vine coiled around her thigh as she twirled a fresh rose between her fingers. The Foot Clan woman staggered back, but Ageha closed the distance in three liquid strides, pressing the bloom's razor edge beneath her chin.
April gasped as Ageha's free hand slid around her waist—hot palm branding the small of her back through the thin fabric. "You're shorter than I imagined," Ageha murmured, breath warm against April's cheek. "But those legs?" Her fingers traced the trembling curve of April's hip. "Dios mío, they could start a revolution."
The air thickened as Foot Clan enforcers emerged from the smoke like shadows given teeth. "Two for one sale," one snarled, cracking his knuckles.
Ageha threw her head back with a laugh that shimmered like shattered glass. "Ay, mi corazón," she crooned, spinning April into a dip so sudden the fringe of their dresses tangled together. "You like salsa? Let's see if they can keep up."
April's pulse hammered against Ageha's grip as the first lunged—only for Ageha to pivot, driving her stiletto heel into his knee with a wet pop. "One," she purred, twirling April upright just in time to duck a swinging chain. April's breath caught as Ageha's thigh pressed flush against hers, the heat of it searing through their skirts. "Relájate, gatita," Ageha whispered, tongue flicking against April's earlobe. "Unless you *want* them to see you blush."
The next attacker came low—Ageha met him with a rose between her teeth and a knee to his jaw that sent teeth skittering across the floor. Blood speckled April's collarbone, warm as a lover's kiss. "I... I don't dance like this," April panted, but her body arched instinctively when Ageha's nails grazed the sensitive skin beneath her skirt's slit.
"Mentira," Ageha growled, dragging her closer as another blade whizzed past. "Your hips don't lie."
April gasped as Ageha spun her out, the sudden jerk snapping her head back—just in time to see a Foot Clan enforcer crumple with a rose embedded in his throat. "Christ," April choked out, but
Ageha was already reeling her back in, the motion making her own G-cups press flush against April's smaller breasts. "You move like you were born for this, reportera."
"I was born for *headlines*," April shot back, but her protest died when Ageha's knee slid between her thighs mid-twirl, the rough lace of her tights grating deliciously against April's bare skin beneath the flamenco slit.
The remaining Foot members circled tighter, their murmurs darkening. "Tick-tock," Ageha sang, snapping her fingers—and the roses sewn into her skirt's lining tore free with a sound like ripping silk. One thug lunged; Ageha caught his wrist and wrenched so hard April heard the pop of cartilage. "You want a dance?" She shoved April backward over her arm, letting her skirt ride up just enough to expose the glint of a thigh holster before whipping her upright again. "Then *earn* it."
April's breath came in ragged bursts as Ageha's free hand slid up her ribcage, fingertips skating under the swell of her breast. The Foot Clan's shouts blurred into white noise—all she could focus on was the hot press of Ageha's thigh still wedged between hers, the way their sweat-slicked skin stuck together with every pivot. "You're... ah...*distracting* me," April managed, but her hips rolled instinctively against Ageha's when the taller girl ground them flush against a wall.
Ageha's laugh was pure sin. "Good. Maybe they'll watch where they're stepping." The music pounded louder, a feverish rhythm syncing with the frantic pulse between April's legs as Ageha's knee pressed deeper. "You still think this is about reporting, reportera?" she murmured, lips brushing April's jaw.
A Foot enforcer lunged; Ageha arched backward, dragging April with her until they bent like a bowstring—her rose-tipped fingers slashed upward, leaving a crimson seam across his throat. "You smell like adrenaline and bad decisions," she panted into April's mouth, tasting of salt and iron.
The last thug collapsed with a thorn-studded vine coiled around his windpipe. Silence pooled like spilled wine. "So," April exhaled, fingers still knotted in Ageha's frilled skirt, "you're my anonymous tipster?" Her thumb brushed a streak of blood smeared down Ageha's collarbone.
Ageha's laugh was husky as she twirled a fresh rose between her fingers—this one unstained. "Please. If I wanted to watch you on TV, I'd tune into Channel 6 at eleven." Her free hand slid possessively up April's thigh, fingertips catching on the slit of her dress. "Though this view's *much* better."
April's pulse stuttered—from the fight or the way Ageha's nails dug crescent moons into her flesh, she couldn't tell. "Then why...?"
"Save you?" Ageha's teeth flashed wicked-sharp. "Who says I did?" She pressed closer, their sweat-slicked bodies sliding together. "Maybe I just like watching you squirm."
April exhaled through her nose—part frustration, part arousal—as Ageha's wandering fingers teased higher beneath her skirt. "You knew my name. My employer." She caught Ageha's wrist just as thumb brushed lace. "But I don't even know yours."
Ageha's responding laugh vibrated through April's ribs. "Mm. You journalists." Her free hand tugged April's hair back, exposing her throat. "Always asking questions when you should be saying *gracias*." The sting of teeth above April's collarbone drew a gasp.
The studio smelled of spilled liquor and gunpowder now, their mingled panting is a add soundtrack to the music still playing. Ageha finally pulled back, leaving April flushed and breathless. "Ageha," she murmured, thumb swiping blood from April's bitten lip. "But you can scream it later."
April blinked, trying to ignore the way her thighs clenched around nothing. "You... seriously..." she stammered, catching sight of the empty hallway where her tipster had vanished. "Whoever fed me this lead bolted like a scared rabbit."
Ageha rolled her eyes, stepping closer until April's back hit the wall. "And I just wasted perfectly good roses saving your tight little ass," she purred, fingers tracing April's hipbone through the slit in her dress. "Least you could do is buy me a drink, reportera."
April scoffed, gaze flicking over Ageha's youthful face—the flower buds tangled in her dark green ponytail, the smudged eyeliner making her yellow eyes look even brighter. "You don't look old enough to drink," she muttered, but her voice cracked when Ageha pressed flush against her, those ridiculous G-cups smothering April's own breasts until the heat between them was unbearable.
Ageha's smirk was pure sin as she ground her thigh between April's legs. "Who said anything about alcohol?" Her breath hit April's earlobe, hot and teasing. "I was thinking something… wetter."
April's fingers dug into Ageha's waistband, torn between shoving her away and dragging her closer. "Fine. One soda," she breathed, pulse thundering where Ageha's teeth had marked her neck. "But make it fast before I remember you're a teenager."
Ageha threw her head back laughing, the sound rich as spilled honey. "Ay, corazón, you're adorable when you lie to yourself." She stepped back deliberately slow, letting April feel every inch of separation as her hips swayed like a metronome set to a filthy rhythm. "Follow me. My car's parked… intimately."
April watched Ageha saunter toward the alley exit, the black lining of her skirt flashing crimson with each step—a predator's tease. The thorned vine around her thigh gleamed wetly in the dim light, and April's mouth went dry imagining how those same thorns might feel dragging up her inner—
"Coming, reportera?" Ageha tossed over her shoulder, pausing to roll her hips in a slow, taunting circle that made April's flamenco dress feel three sizes too tight. "Or do I need to *motivate* you?"
April's laugh came out uneven as she forced her legs to move. "Christ, do you ever turn it off?" Her own voice sounded foreign—husky, wanting. Ageha's answering grin was all sharp edges and promise as she flicked open a switchblade rose from her sleeve, using it to pop the top off a soda bottle she'd plucked from god-knows-where. The carbonation hissed like a warning.
"Where's the fun in that?" Ageha purred, tipping the bottle toward her mouth—only to deliberately miss, letting the foam spill down her cleavage in a sticky, glistening trail. Her yellow eyes locked onto April's as she dragged a finger through the mess, sucking it clean with a vulgar pop. "Thirsty?"
(Later in Ageha's car.)
April gripped the passenger seat's leather hard enough to crease it. "Jesus, do you ever *not* perform?" The scent of sugar and citrus from the spilled soda mixed with Ageha's rose perfume—cloying and sweet, like temptation distilled.
Ageha's laughter was low as she shifted gears, her thigh brushing April's bare knee. "Only when I'm getting paid." The car swerved around a corner, pressing April against the door—close enough to catch the salt-and-sugar tang still clinging to Ageha's neck. "Lucky for you, tonight's amateur hour."
April's pulse jumped at the implication. "Your parents really won't be home?" The question came out huskier than she intended, betraying the heat pooling low in her stomach.
Ageha smirked, fingers drumming the steering wheel in time with the bass still thrumming in April's veins. "Papi's in Madrid, Mami's at her lover's." She spared April a sidelong glance, her grin sharpening. "So? Still worried about my age, *señorita*?" Her knee nudged April's thighs again, the rough lace of her tights scratching April's bare skin. "Or just wet for it?"
April exhaled through her nose—frustration, arousal—as Ageha's apartment building loomed ahead. "You're insufferable."
"And you're *dripping*," Ageha countered, pulling into a spot with a jerk that sent April's breasts jostling a little bit. "Four flights up. Try not to come before we reach the door."
The stairwell smelled of old wood and damp roses—Ageha's perfume lingered here, April realized, like she'd marked the territory. "So?" April panted as they reached the third landing, her flamenco heels clicking too loud in the quiet. "Who taught you to fight like that?" Ageha paused mid-step, her ponytail swaying as she glanced back with a raised brow. "Seriously," April pressed, catching Ageha's wrist—the one still speckled with blood. "Those moves aren't in any dojo syllabus."
Ageha's laugh was a dark, honeyed thing as she tugged April up the final steps. "Mami was a Flamenco *assassin* before she was a mother," she purred, shoving the door open with her hip. "Taught me to dance before I could walk." The apartment was all low lights and richer reds—like the inside of a rose in full bloom. "Knives came later."
April barely had time to register the thorned vines framing the doorway before Ageha spun her into the apartment—slamming her back against the wall hard enough to rattle a painting. "Lesson one," Ageha murmured, pressing flush against her, the heat of her G-cups smothering April's chest. "Never ask a shinobi about her *training*." Her knee slid between April's thighs again, the pressure deliberate. "Unless you want a… *demonstration*."
April's breath hitched as Ageha's fingers traced the waistline of her skirt—slow, teasing. "Christ," she managed, arching into the touch. "Your mom teach you *this* too?"
Ageha's teeth grazed April's earlobe. "No, *gatita*," she breathed, her free hand slipping beneath April's dress to palm the curve of her ass. "That part's all me."
April gasped as Ageha spun her toward a hallway lined with framed rose petals—each one pressed behind glass like a trophy. "Shower's through there," Ageha murmured, nudging April toward a heavy oak door with her knee. "Mami's private one. Hot water actually works."
April's fingers hesitated on the knob. "And where are you...?"
"Main bathroom." Ageha was already backing away, her smirk widening as she peeled off one glove with her teeth. "Put the dress back on," she ordered, voice dropping to a growl. "I want to peel it off you myself." The last word was punctuated by the snap of her garter against her thigh.
April exhaled sharply—half protest, half anticipation—but Ageha was already gone, her laughter lingering like the scent of crushed roses.
(In the shower.)
The shower's steam curled around April's bare skin as she stepped under the spray, the heat doing nothing to erase the phantom press of Ageha's thigh between hers. "Fuck... what A'm I getting myself into?" All the sweat and Foot Clan blood is washed off her body and down the drain.
(After the shower.)
She dressed mechanically, the flamenco fabric clinging damply to her thighs, her pulse thrumming where Ageha's teeth had marked her neck.
The bedroom door stood ajar, candlelight spilling onto the hardwood like liquid gold. "Knock knock," April murmured, pushing it open further—only for Ageha's answering chuckle to slither through the shadows: "Too late for manners, reportera."
April froze mid-step. "What the hell...?"
Ageha spun in place, the crimson fringe of her pristine flamenco dress flaring—identical to the bloodstained one she'd worn in the club, down to the thorned vine wrapped around her thigh. "Problem, reportera?" Her grin was all sharp edges as she tugged open the closet door with a flourish. Rows upon rows of identical red dresses hung inside, their black linings catching the candlelight like spilled ink.
"You... collect these?" April's fingers twitched toward the nearest garment, the silk cool against her fingertips.
"Obsession runs in the family," Ageha purred, snapping the closet shut with her hip. The scent of rosewater and something else sweet clung to her freshly scrubbed skin as she sauntered closer, her yellow eyes glinting in the dim light. "Mami always said a woman should have enough dresses to disappear into a new identity... or seduce a pretty reporter." Her laugh curled around April like smoke as she tapped her phone—the opening strains of *Te Amo* slithering from hidden speakers.
April's breath hitched when Ageha's hands found her waist, the taller girl's thumbs tracing the dip of April's hipbones through the damp fabric. "You fight in *heels*," April managed, her voice cracking as Ageha's knee pressed between her thighs again—deliberate, relentless. "That's not human."
Ageha's teeth flashed white in the half-light. "Neither is what I'm about to do to you." The music swelled as she rolled her hips, the fringe of their skirts tangling like lovers' fingers. "Count the roses, reportera," she murmured, her lips brushing April's jaw as the first button of her blouse slipped free. "One for every scream you'll give me."
April gasped when Ageha stepped back abruptly, her hips swaying in perfect sync with Rihanna's throaty lament. "Te amo, te amo," Ageha sang along, her voice rough as crushed petals as she peeled off one glove with her teeth. "She said to me..." The flickering candlelight caught the water-damp hollow of her collarbone as she shrugged the other strap down—slow, deliberate—letting the scarlet silk slither halfway down her bicep. "I hear the pain in her voice." April's pulse skittered when Ageha's fingers traced her own exposed skin, following the path April's gaze had taken moments before.
Ageha rolled her shoulders—the dress slid lower, clinging to the swell of her G-cups like liquid fire. "Then, we danced under the candelabra," she murmured against April's jaw, her breath hot with stolen wine and danger. April shuddered as Ageha's thigh pressed between hers again—no teasing this time, just relentless pressure against the damp lace beneath April's flamenco skirt. "See takes the lead." Her teeth scraped April's earlobe as she spun them toward the bed, their skirts flaring like bloodstains in the low light.
April gasped when Ageha's fingers tangled in the fringe of her dress—not tearing, just twisting the fabric tight enough to make April arch. "That's when I saw it in her eyes," Ageha growled, peeling another glove off with her teeth. The silk snapped against April's bare shoulder. "It's over." Her laugh was dark honey as she ground her hips forward, the thorned vine on her thigh scratching April's bare skin through the slit in her skirt. "Say it, reportera."
"Te amo," April panted reflexively—then choked on her own breath when Ageha's free hand slid under her dress, blunt nails biting into the soft flesh of her inner thigh. "Christ, you're..."
Ageha stepped back, the candlelight painting her bare shoulders gold as she peeled her dress down inch by torturous inch, the fabric hissing like a satisfied cat against her skin. "Then, she said..." Her hips rolled in a slow, hypnotic sway, the thorned vine on her thigh catching the light as she sang, voice rough with intent, "*Te amo*." The dress pooled at her ankles, leaving only the sheer grey tights clinging to her legs—and the glint of another blade strapped to her inner thigh. Ageha takes off the thorned vine slowly , dropping it to the floor. "Then..." Her fingers traced the waistband of April's skirt, blunt nails scraping the sensitive skin beneath. "*She put her hand around my waist.*"
Ageha takes two steps back and sings with Rihanna. "I told her no, she cried, 'Te amo.'" She unsheathes the blade strapped to her thigh with a slow, deliberate hiss. The steel glints in the candlelight as she twirls it between her fingers—once, twice—before pressing the flat edge against April's lower lip. "Say it again," she murmurs, her breath hot with stolen wine and something darker. "Like you mean it."
April exhales sharply through her nose—part defiance, part surrender—as Ageha's free hand slides up the slit of her skirt, fingertips skating over the damp lace beneath. "Te amo," she breathes, the words barely audible over the thrum of her pulse. Ageha's answering grin is all teeth as she flicks the blade away—it thuds into a dartboard across the room with a solid whump, sinking dead-center between two rose-pressed targets. "Good girl."
Ageha hums along to the music still dripping from hidden speakers, her hips swaying as she steps flush against April again. "I told you," she sings, her voice rough as crushed petals, "I'm not going to run away—" Her knee presses higher between April's thighs, the rough lace of her tights dragging against April's bare skin beneath the skirt. "... but let me go." The last word is a hot whisper against April's parted lips, her breath sweet with stolen wine.
April's fingers twitch against Ageha's hips—caught between pushing away and dragging her closer—as Ageha's hands slide down her own thighs in slow, theatrical descent. "My soul is awry," she murmurs, lips brushing April's earlobe as she hooks her thumbs into the waistband of her own tights. The sheer grey fabric peels down inch by deliberate inch, revealing toned muscle and a fresh bruise blooming along her inner thigh like a misplaced rose petal. "Without asking why."
The tights catch briefly at Ageha's knee, the thorned vine's earlier indentation still pressed into her skin. She laughs—low, throaty—and arches into April's space. "I said, *Te amo*," she croons, rolling the syllables like stolen candy on her tongue. Her breath hitches as the fabric finally slips past her calves, pooling around her ankles with a whisper. April's pulse stutters at the dark ink curling up Ageha's bare thigh—a garter belt tattoo, the straps rendered in such lifelike detail she almost reaches to touch them.
Ageha steps free of the tangled grey silk, her bare foot brushing April's shin. "Wish somebody'd tell me what she said," she murmurs, dragging a fingertip down April's sternum, stopping just above her frantic heartbeat. The candlelight catches the sweat-slick hollow of Ageha's throat as she hums the next verse, her hips swaying closer—close enough for April to feel the heat radiating off her bare skin, the faint tremor in her thighs.
Ageha takes a good few steps back, bare feet gliding across the hardwood like she's floating on moonlight. The candlelight catches the sweat-slick curve of her collarbone as she starts swaying—hips rolling in exaggerated circles, each movement sending the tattooed garter straps on her thighs shimmering. "Don't it mean I love you?" she murmurs, voice dipping into that honeyed rasp as her fingers trail up her own torso, teasing her nipples through the thin fabric still clinging to her G-cups. The fringe of her discarded dress trembles where it lies pooled at her feet, stirred by the heat radiating off her skin.
April's breath hitches. Ageha's grin sharpens. She spins—once, twice—the motion making her ponytail whip against her bare back, those ridiculous flower buds tangled in her dark green hair scattering petals at April's feet. "I think it means I love you," she purrs, dragging a fingertip down the center of her chest, stopping just above the waistband of April's skirt. The candlelight catches the way April's pulse jumps beneath her skin, the flush creeping down her chest. Ageha's chuckle is dark as she steps closer again, her bare knee sliding between April's thighs with practiced precision. "Don't it mean I love you?" Her breath is hot against April's jaw, smelling of stolen wine and the rosewater still clinging to her freshly scrubbed skin.
Ageha's fingers find the hem of April's skirt—slow, deliberate—her nails scraping the sensitive skin beneath as she gathers the fabric inch by torturous inch. The fringe trembles in her grip, the silk whispering against April's thighs as Ageha hums along to the music still dripping from hidden speakers. "Te amo," she murmurs, her lips brushing the shell of April's ear as she peels the dress up over her hips, the air cool against April's bare skin beneath. April shivers—not from the chill, but from the way Ageha's thumb presses into the crease of her thigh, blunt and unrelenting.
The scent of rosewater and lilac perfume clings to Ageha's skin as she ducks her head, her teeth grazing April's collarbone through the damp fabric still tangled around her waist. "Te amo," she sings again, her voice rough as she drags the dress higher, her breath hot against April's sternum. The lace of April's bra catches on Ageha's lower lip—just for a second—before Ageha yanks the dress over her head with a sharp, practiced motion, leaving April bare save for the scrap of lace clinging to her hips. April gasps, her pulse fluttering where Ageha's fingers skim her ribs, tracing the curve of her waist like a cartographer mapping uncharted territory. "She's scared to breathe," Ageha murmurs against April's throat, her tongue flicking out to taste the salt-slick hollow beneath April's jaw.
Ageha smirks as she sings. "I hold her hand, I got no choice," humming against April's neck, fingers deftly unhooking her bra clasp. Fabric slackens—April gasps—and Ageha pulls away slow, letting the straps slide down her arms like melted silk. April's breasts bounce free, flushed pink from the heat between them, nipples hardening instantly in the cool air. "Such pretty *D*s," Ageha murmurs, rolling the word like a stolen gem on her tongue while her free hand finds April's wrist, pinning it to the wall. "Still wanna ask questions, reportera?"
April's breath comes ragged. "Why... ah... why Spanish?" she manages, arching into Ageha's touch as those long fingers trace her ribs, skimming just beneath the swell of her breast. Ageha laughs—dark, throaty—and drops to her knees in one fluid motion, her nails scraping April's inner thighs on the way down.
"*Puta madre*," Ageha murmurs, the words warm against April's stomach as she hooks her thumbs into the waistband of April's lace panties. She drags them down slow, inch by torturous inch, her breath hitching as she sings against April's trembling skin: "*Pulled me out on the beach...*" The fabric catches briefly on April's hips before Ageha twists it free with a snap, leaving April bare.
April's gasp is drowned by Ageha's throaty chuckle. "*Danced in the water,*" she croons, pressing an open-mouthed kiss just above April's pubic bone. Her lips linger, tasting salt and lavender bodywash as April's thighs quiver. "Mmm… you *do* taste like desperation," Ageha muses, her tongue flicking out to trace the crease of April's thigh. "Ink-stained and *hungry*."
Ageha stands back up in one liquid motion, her bare skin flush against April's trembling body. She hooks her thumbs into her own panties—black lace, still damp from their earlier fight—and rolls them down slow, hips swaying to the music still pulsing from hidden speakers. "*I start to leave,*" she sings against April's parted lips, each syllable a hot puff of breath. April whimpers when Ageha's fingers dig into her hips, blunt nails leaving half-moon indents in soft flesh. "*She is begging me and asking…*" Ageha's panties snag briefly on her thigh before she kicks them aside with a practiced flick of her ankle. "Why it's over?"
Ageha smirks as she reaches behind her back and continues to sing. "Then, she said...*Te amo*," her fingers unhooking the clasp of her bra with practiced ease. The frilled fabric slips down her arms, pooling at her wrists before she flicks it aside, her G-cup breasts bouncing free—full, heavy, the rosy peaks already taut from the heat between them. April's breath catches as Ageha rolls her shoulders, letting them sway deliberately, the candlelight catching the sheen of sweat between her cleavage. "And *then*," Ageha murmurs, stepping close enough for their bare skin to brush, her voice dropping to a rough whisper, "she put her hand around my waist." Her fingers skate up April's ribs.
April shivers as Ageha's taller frame presses flush against hers, their breasts crushed together—softness yielding to softness, the contrast between Ageha's fuller curves and April's smaller, pert D-cups igniting a delicious friction. Ageha's nipples scrape against April's with every breath, the sensation sharp enough to make April gasp. "You're... mmph... still singing," April manages, her hands flexing against Ageha's hips
Ageha looks in her eyes as she sings. "I told her no, she cried,' Te amo,'" her voice a throaty rasp against April's collarbone as their bare torsos slid together, sweat making their skin stick and pull in delicious friction. April's smaller breasts crushed against Ageha's fuller curves, the younger girl's nipples like hot pebbles dragging across April's own with each roll of Ageha's hips. "I told her, I'm not going to run away, but let me go" Ageha purred, catching April's lower lip between her teeth—not biting, just holding—as her thigh pressed higher between April's legs.
"My soul is awry," Ageha breathed against April's mouth, her fingers skating down April's sides to grip the swell of her hips—rough enough to leave marks, gentle enough to make April whimper. She could feel every ridge of Ageha's fingerprints burning through her skin as the taller girl swayed them both toward the bed, their movements liquid despite the tremble in April's thighs. "Without asking why." The backs of April's knees hit the mattress, Ageha's knee still wedged unforgivingly between her legs—the rough lace of her remaining stocking rasping against April's bare inner thigh with every shallow breath.
"I said—" Ageha's teeth caught April's earlobe, tugging just shy of pain before her tongue soothed the sting. Her voice dripped like honey laced with iron, singing into the sweat-slick hollow behind April's ear: "*Te amo.*" April arched instinctively as Ageha's free hand slid between their bodies, blunt nails tracing April's lower belly in slow circles—each pass dipping lower, teasing the soft curls damp with arousal. "*Wish somebody'd tell me—*" Ageha's thumb pressed against April's clit through sheer friction, the angle all wrong but the pressure brutal—"*what she said.*"
April's gasp caught in her throat as Ageha tilted her hips, grinding down in a slow, filthy roll that forced April's thighs wider. "Y-yeah?" April choked out, fingers scrabbling at Ageha's bare shoulders. "Because I...ah...*Christ*... thought you were fluent." Ageha laughed—dark, throaty—and let her weight settle fully against April, their bodies slotting together with a slick heat that punched the breath from April's lungs. The scent of their mingled arousal clung to the sheets beneath them, thick as the musk of crushed rose petals.
"You gonna write about this, reportera?" Ageha murmured, her lips grazing April's jaw as she rocked forward again—deliberate, torturous—the rough lace of her remaining stocking catching on April's inner thigh with each movement. "Headline: 'Local Journalist Gets Fucked Silly by—" April cut her off with a bitten-off moan, her back arching off the mattress as Ageha's thumb found her clit again, pressing just shy of pain. "Don't it mean I love you," Ageha sang, her voice breaking on the last syllable as April's hips jerked involuntarily against hers.
April's fingers tangled in Ageha's flower-strewn ponytail, tugging hard enough to bare the younger girl's throat. "You... ah...*sing* like a goddamn lunatic," she gasped, her thighs trembling where they clung to Ageha's waist. Ageha laughed—low, unhinged—and shifted her weight, grinding down in a slow circle that dragged April's swollen clit against the rough friction of her own. The sensation punched through April like a live wire, her cry muffled by Ageha's teeth sinking into her shoulder.
"Think it means I love you," Ageha crooned against the sweat-slick hollow of April's collarbone, her hips rolling in that same maddening rhythm—just enough pressure to tease, never enough to satisfy. April arched, desperate to chase the contact, but Ageha pinned her wrists to the mattress with one hand, the other tracing the desperate flutter of April's pulse. "You're so *noisy*, reportera," she murmured, her breath hitching as April's inner muscles clenched around nothing. "Gonna make me work for it?"
April's laugh frayed into a whimper when Ageha's teeth grazed her nipple—sharp, sudden—before soothing the sting with a slow sweep of her tongue. "Bastard," she gasped, her thighs trembling where they bracketed Ageha's waist. "You...*oh god*...you started this." The music pulsed around them, Rihanna's voice curling through the heat like smoke as Ageha rocked forward again, her bare skin sticking to April's with every shift.
Ageha's grin was pure sin as she dragged her thumb through the slickness between April's thighs, smearing it slow across her own clit with a shuddering breath. "Watch me," she purred, her voice rough as gravel, her hips moving in tight, controlled circles against April's—the friction brutal, the angle just shy of perfect. April's nails scored down Ageha's back, her cry muffled against the younger girl's shoulder as Ageha sang into her skin: "*Because I understand...*"
The music pulsed through the mattress, Rihanna's voice curling like smoke around them as Ageha ground harder, her breath hitching on each downbeat. April's thighs trembled where they bracketed Ageha's waist, her hips jerking instinctively—chasing, always chasing—but Ageha pinned her down with a roll of her own hips, her fingers digging into April's waist hard enough to bruise. "*Don't it mean I love you,*" she gasped against April's mouth, her rhythm stuttering as April's teeth sank into her lower lip.
April arched beneath her, her body trembling like a bowstring pulled taut—too tight, too close—as Ageha's thrusts grew erratic, their slickness mingling with every desperate grind. "*Think it means I love you,*" Ageha whimpered, her voice breaking as April's fingers tangled in her hair, tugging hard enough to make her gasp. The scent of them—salt and roses and sweat—clung to the sheets beneath them, thick as the musk of crushed petals.
Ageha's nails raked down April's ribs, her breath hot against April's throat as she rocked forward—once, twice—her rhythm faltering as April's thighs clenched around her waist. "*God,*" April choked out, her back arching off the mattress as Ageha's fingers found her clit again, pressing just shy of pain.
"*Te amo,*" Ageha moaned against her collarbone, her hips jerking erratically as April's fingers dug into her shoulders.
April gasped, her vision whitening as Ageha's clit dragged against hers in a final, brutal grind—wet skin slapping together with each frantic thrust. The scent of their arousal clung thick between them, mingling with spilled perfume and roses still lingering from the fight. Ageha's breath hitched, her rhythm fracturing as Rihanna's voice swelled around them—the song's last gasp.
"Don't it mean...*fuck*... I love you?" Ageha panted, her voice cracking as April arched beneath her, her orgasm hitting like a live wire. April's thighs clamped around Ageha's waist, her cry muffled against the younger girl's shoulder as her pussy fluttered wildly against Ageha's. Three more rough, jagged thrusts—Ageha's nails biting into April's hips—then she came with a sob, her G-cups pressing flush against April's smaller breasts as she shuddered through it.
Their sweat-slick bodies stuck together in the aftermath, April's heartbeat thundering where Ageha's lips rested against her pulse. The younger girl exhaled, lazy and satisfied, her thumb tracing idle circles on April's hipbone. "Headline," Ageha murmured, her voice rough with spent amusement, "*Reporter Gets More Than She Bargained For...*" April cut her off with a breathless laugh, swatting her shoulder even as her thighs still quivered around Ageha's waist.