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Looking back, Osamu could pinpoint exactly where she went wrong. It wasn’t when she let Atsumu into her apartment, because it seemed like Atsumu’s intent truly was to borrow the pair of earrings they’d fought over in middle school. It wasn’t when she let Atsumu sit down in her kitchen and slid her a plate she’d quickly loaded with leftovers from her dinner, because Atsumu’s stomach really had made a horrific growling sound that informed Osamu her stupid twin had skipped dinner in her excitement. No, the moment Osamu had gone wrong was when she decided to show an ounce of curiosity into the mess that was Atsumu’s dating life.
“So yer goin’ clubbin’ with Kiyoomi even though y’all just broke up?” Osamu asked, cocking an eyebrow as she leaned her front onto the counter, her thick arms folded beneath her chest. She managed to not add an “again,” despite the fact that she’d lost count of how many times Atsumu had been through this before.
Atsumu nodded, her mouth full of chewed fish that Osamu unfortunately got a good look at as she spoke. “Yup,” she said readily. “Gonna make her regret it.”
“Mhm,” Osamu hummed sarcastically. She did a quick once-over of Atsumu’s carefully selected outfit and smirked. “So yer wearin’ Kiyoomi’s shirt because…?”
“H-how did ya know this is Omi’s?” Atsumu stuttered in shock, her cheeks flushing red. She choked down her last bite of food and sat the metal chopsticks down with a clatter.
“It’s too long on ya,” Osamu pointed out, gesturing at Atsumu’s unusually covered torso. “Ya sure yer not plannin’ to give it back at the end of the night?”
“Nope,” Atsumu said, shaking her head. “Nuh-uh. She’s gonna have to watch it go home with someone else.”
“Sure,” Osamu replied. Her smile widened meanly. “I believe ya.”
“Yer a jerk!” Atsumu protested. She stood, shoving the stool back with a loud shriek against the tile floor. “I’ll prove it. I’ll show ya! Just come out with me and ya can watch me make Omi totally jealous.”
“Absolutely not,” Osamu stated immediately. “I am not being the third wheel to whatever gross sex thing y’all are doin’ now.”
“I’m gonna make ya eat yer words so bad when I leave with someone else,” Atsumu said. She slapped her hands against the counter, leaning towards Osamu. “C’mon, it’ll be fun. Come with me.”
“No,” Osamu said. She pulled away, reaching for Atsumu’s plate to begin washing up.
Atsumu shooed her hand away. “Please,” she said, suddenly sounding desperate. “It’ll be more fun if yer there.”
“It won’t be any fun for me,” Osamu replied with an annoyed sigh.
“How d’ya know that? Ya’ve never been out with me, or with anyone for that matter! Yer all work and no play,” Atsumu squawked, frowning. Her voice got quiet upon her next words. “Besides, I need ya there so I don’t go home with Omi.”
Osamu stilled, serious now. “Did she do somethin’ to ya?”
Atsumu shook her head. “I just can’t let her win this fight! Please!”
Osamu rolled her eyes. She considered the loss of sleep she’d have for one night if she gave in to Atsumu’s whining, considering she had to open Onigiri Miya at eleven in the morning like always, which meant starting food preparation around eight. She then considered the weeks of whining and prodding she’d have to endure if she still told Atsumu no.
Atsumu softened her eyes, scrunching her brow together in a stupid mimic of a puppy. Osamu ought to make her go outside like one.
“Fine,” Osamu sighed. “Just this once.”
Atsumu squealed in delight, clapping her hands together in a sound that filled the apartment. “Great!” she cheered.
Before Osamu could take it back, Atsumu scurried away from the counter into Osamu’s bedroom. Osamu listened from the kitchen as she tore through Osamu’s closet for several minutes, before returning with her hands full of fabric and a pair of heels balanced precariously on top. Osamu scowled as Atsumu sat them in a pile on the counter with a satisfied hum.
“Change,” she demanded, sliding the pile towards Osamu.
Osamu wrinkled her brow as she reached for the clothes. She quickly moved the heels to the floor, already grossed out by them having been on the counter. Luckily, they weren’t terribly disgusting, considering Osamu had only worn them once for their mother’s wedding to their step-dad two years back. She uncrumpled the rest of the mass and shook her head.
“No,” Osamu said quickly. There were two pieces, a denim miniskirt Osamu had purchased for a single failed date during her first year of high school and a black cropped shirt that she was pretty sure had been accidentally mixed into her closet from Atsumu’s stuff. Not only was it completely not Osamu’s style, neither piece was likely to fit Osamu. She shook her head again. “Not wearing this.”
“Ya gotta try it at least!” Atsumu protested loudly. She set her hands on her hips, after freeing the earrings she’d stolen back from her pocket and setting them gently onto the counter. “I bet ya will look great.”
“I’ll look like a fuckin’ stuffed sausage,” Osamu groaned.
Atsumu shrugged. “Maybe makin’ the ladies think of meat will finally do the trick for ya.” Osamu paced quickly around the counter to slap Atsumu for the slight. Atsumu giggled gleefully as she ran away, racing them in a circle around the island counter. “I mean, ya have my face, so that certainly can’t be the problem!”
Osamu groaned in frustration as Atsumu dashed straight across the room, just as Osamu was in line with the pile on the counter. She grabbed it in one defeated, swift movement. “Yer lucky I’m still scared of Ma gettin’ mad at me for beatin’ ya up.”
“Because you know she’d side with me,” Atsumu teased, gesturing Osamu off towards her bedroom.
Osamu shut the door behind herself. She dropped the armful of clothes onto her bed before stripping into her undergarments. She quickly considered the neckline of the tiny top Atsumu had selected and the few bras she owned, and decided Atsumu would just make her go without anyway when all of their straps inevitably showed.
She walked stiffly back out of the bedroom once fully dressed, having avoided eye contact with any mirror that would tell her exactly what she felt: it was too tight, too revealing, and far too girly for her.
“Yup,” Atsumu said simply. She spun her finger in a circle, making Osamu do a slow, awkward turn. She had a shit-eating grin— one Osamu was pretty sure she couldn’t make despite their identical faces— painted on her lips when Osamu completed her rotation. “I’m never wrong.”
Osamu snorted. She snagged the heels off the counter and sat on her couch to arduously strap them on. Atsumu hovered nearby. As Osamu set her first heeled-foot down, she glanced up at Atsumu. “Ya better get ready before I regret this.”
Atsumu snapped to attention, silently dashing back to the kitchen where she’d left her phone on the counter and grabbed a bottle of water from Osamu’s fridge to drink on the way over. She returned to Osamu’s side just as Osamu was wobbling to her feet.
“I forget ya don’t wear heels,” Atsumu said, giggling as Osamu trudged clumsily to her door, leaning this way and that as her center of balance suddenly gained three inches. “Ya sure yer gonna be okay?”
“Suddenly ya care?” Osamu shot back, nearly falling onto the shelf in her entryway as she grabbed for her keys in the shallow dish set atop it. Atsumu stifled an even louder laugh. Osamu swatted her hand wildly through the air as Atsumu attempted to pass her out the front door. “I shoulda made ya go alone.”
Atsumu grinned as the door shut behind Osamu. “Too late now! Ya’ve already let the world see ya in heels. Might as well go have fun.”
Osamu locked her door in silent agreement. Maybe it wouldn’t be so awful. Maybe the fact that her tight skirt rode up a little more with each wobbly step down the outdoor hallway and stairs, then down the sidewalk, would all be worth it once Osamu had a drink in her hand and some music pounding in her ears. She hoped it would be.
After a long march down the street, then a quick subway ride accompanied by more stairs that had Osamu wondering if tonight she would be meeting her maker, they finally arrived at the club Atsumu nearly always went to. It’s front was familiar to Osamu, considering she had hauled her twin, and sometimes her twin’s girlfriend, home from here on more than one occasion. But she had never stepped through its doors before, which were guarded by a doorman who did little more than nod them in.
The room was already densely packed as they stepped inside, flocks of people hiding in shadows from the bursts of colorful light emanating from strategically placed bulbs throughout the room as they waited for the night to begin. Osamu reached for the sleeve of Atsumu’s shirt, readying herself to quietly ask Atsumu to not leave her side, when Atsumu gasped in surprise.
“Omi!” she squeaked, turning to Osamu with a frantic expression. “I’m gonna go talk to her. Yer gonna be okay, right?”
“No, Tsumu-“
Atsumu was halfway across the club before Osamu could finish her plea. She sighed in defeat, hesitating for a moment before she trudged to the bar and found an empty stool to collapse into. Her feet already hurt, the pounding music was already surely affecting her hearing, and already she was fully alone in a place she didn’t even want to go to. She sighed again, leaning on one elbow as the bartender greeted her with a nod as he took another patron’s order.
As her turn to order approached, Osamu figured she’d order one drink, nurse it until she caught a glimpse of Atsumu inevitably wrapped back in Kiyoomi’s embrace, then head home. The bartender just finished mixing and pouring the order before hers when someone slid up beside Osamu, standing at the counter.
Osamu attempted to quickly glance at the newcomer, but instead met her piercing gaze. The girl’s hazel eyes seemed to stare straight into Osamu, bright and curious, framed by wispy, chestnut brown bangs that she pushed aside with two fingers as if to ensure her view of Osamu was perfectly clear. It seemed to take her a long while to notice Osamu was even looking back at her, but once she did, a wide smile revealed her stark white teeth. They seemed oddly sharp as she opened them to speak.
“Hey there,” she said to Osamu, before turning to the bartender, who now stood in front of them. “Two vodka shots, please.”
The bartender nodded. Osamu readied a complaint about cutting in line as the girl continued. “One is for you,” she chirped cheerfully.
Osamu raised an eyebrow. “That’s really forward of you,” Osamu said, turning to face the girl while leaning on the bar with one elbow. “What if I wanted a beer?”
“This is more fun,” she replied.
As the bartender returned, Osamu dug in her pocket for her wallet, freeing her credit card just as a shot glass was set in front of her. “Can I start a tab, please?”
As the bartender left with Osamu’s card, the girl frowned. “I was going to pay.”
“Pretty girls shouldn’t pay for themselves,” Osamu replied smoothly. She wasn’t sure where exactly the smoothness had come from. She hadn't flirted with anyone except one of her restaurant suppliers, in a fit of desperation, in years. The way the girl’s eyes flicked up in surprise made it clear her moves were appreciated.
“In that case,” the girl started, gracing her cutely short fingers along the rim of her shot glass, “I’ll have to pay you back. Three, two-“
As she skipped the final countdown, they both tipped their drinks back at once and swallowed them as swiftly as they could. Osamu tried not to grimace at the taste, but when the girl stuck her tongue out in disgust, she let her own nose wrinkle.
“Euck,” she grunted, setting her glass back down and rising to her feet. She set her small hands on Osamu’s shoulder, leaning slightly into her. “Wanna dance?”
Osamu was sliding off of her barstool and following the girl onto the floor before her mouth could form a response. She caught up to her as the girl paused amongst the crowd, setting a hand as casually as she could on her waist. She received a coy smile in response as she began to find the rhythm of the song.
“I never caught your name,” Osamu said, leaning into her ear before the music could really carry her away. “I’m Osamu.”
“Motoya,” the girl replied. She turned to face Osamu, swaying her body in exaggerated movements until Osamu begrudgingly matched her. A broad smile cracked Motoya’s perfectly pink lips. “There you go.”
As the crowd closed in around them, they danced. The music pulsed in Osamu’s ears, drowning out her racing heartbeat as Motoya got closer and closer. Although her hands were now away from Osamu as she danced, it felt as if Motoya’s eyes never stopped touching Osamu. Osamu could feel her piercing gaze as it ran across her body and steadied itself hungrily on the bare skin of her neck. Osamu swallowed her spit. Motoya smiled. Her teeth glinted pure white in the shimmering lights.
They danced and swayed together for what felt like hours. Osamu barely sent Atsumu a nod as she waved goodbye, arms locked in Kiyoomi’s as she fled the club early. She couldn’t make herself look away from Motoya for even a second, so hypnotized by the soft curves of her body and the sharp corners of her smile. As they pressed together, Osamu was delighted to hear Motoya take a deep sniff of the skin on her bare neck.
It was a weird gesture. Osamu probably would’ve normally found it weird, but she wanted Motoya, and it felt good to be wanted too. But clearly someone found the action strange because, as the song carried on, Osamu began feeling a new gaze on her back.
Osamu tried to glance over her shoulder as Motoya wrapped her arms around Osamu’s neck, rising on her toes and giggling about something. She didn’t see anyone that seemed like they might be staring. Osamu tried to quiet the swell of anxiety. Maybe Osamu had imagined the feeling of eyes on her. Maybe the person, if there had been someone staring at all, had actually been watching Motoya. She was otherworldly beautiful. There was no reason to worry.
Just as Osamu was going to force herself to relax, Motoya laid a gentle hand against the flat of Osamu’s chest, stilling herself. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I jus-“
A new set of arms invaded the space between Motoya and Osamu, snaking their way around Motoya’s waist and tugging her away from Osamu. Motoya squeaked in surprise and Osamu, in a flash of a second, had her hands around her wrists, ready to tug Motoya away from the intruder.
“Didn’t expect to see you here tonight,” the new girl said, leaning down to press her cheek against Motoya’s.
Motoya’s surprised expression turned to a sour frown as she craned her neck, trying to spin to face her assailant as Osamu still held her firmly. “Yes, you did!” she protested, eyelashes fluttering as the other girl’s short, dark hair brushed against Motoya’s eyelids. “You told me you’d meet me here.”
Her captor smirked before loudly popping a kiss against Motoya’s blushed cheeks. “I did, didn’t I?”
Her gaze flicked up to Osamu’s, forcing a cold shiver to run down her spine. Her eyes were sharp and pale, narrowed at Osamu in a way that Osamu couldn’t decide if it was predatory or possessive, although she was certain she didn’t want to find out.
Motoya made a tiny sound in her throat, breaking the invisible tension between the two. “Osamu, this is…” she started, hesitating as she looked back at her captor, who finally tore her stare from Osamu. She busied herself with her mouth on Motoya’s neck, briefly revealing her own set of scarily sharp, perfectly white teeth. The sight did not help the cold sweat beading on Osamu’s back. “This is my girlfriend, Rintarou.”
“G-girlfriend?” Osamu stuttered. She released Motoya’s wrists without thinking. Of course the first girl to show any interest in her in years would be taken.
Rintarou raised her head, again sending a challenging glance at Osamu. She tightened her hold around Motoya’s waist, shuffling her feet closer. “Yeah,” she said gruffly.
“Sorry, I should’ve told you,” Motoya said quickly. She pursed her lips, looking back over her shoulder once while she carefully considered her next words. “But she’s cool with me having fun. Right?”
Rintarou nodded, however she didn’t seem too pleased to be doing so. Osamu gulped.
“Ah, I see,” she said quietly. Her mind raced for a way out of the situation. No way was she stepping on Rintarou’s toes anymore. She’d heard plenty of stories from Atsumu about how exactly she felt when people hit on Kiyoomi.
“So don’t stop on my behalf,” Rintarou said suddenly, finally releasing Motoya and even giving her a tiny tap on the butt to make her jerk towards Osamu. She turned away from them, facing to Osamu’s left, still behind Motoya. “I mean, you wanted to kiss her, right?”
“Rin!” Motoya gasped, turning back to her girlfriend.
Osamu’s cheeks burned. She felt certain whatever expression she was making was the stupidest she ever had, considering just how stupid she felt. Rintarou was making fun of her.
“Go for it, pretty girl,” Rintarou encouraged slyly, her voice low and smooth. “I mean it.”
“You don’t have to, Osamu,” Motoya added, gently tangling her fingers with Osamu’s. She leaned into her ear, speaking just over the volume of the music. “I mean, I’d like to, but you don’t have to.”
Rintarou smirked expectantly at her. It seemed like there was no dignified way out of this. She either tucked-tail and ran, giving Rintarou the twisted satisfaction of “winning” her girlfriend from a stranger, or she kissed Motoya and got whatever twisted response Rintarou had in store for her.
Motoya moved closer to her. She swayed her hips slightly, dancing ever so subtly to the music that Osamu hoped covered the sound of her racing heart. Her breath was hot on Osamu’s neck, still so close to her ear. Osamu’s head swam.
She sized up Rintarou briefly. She was taller than Osamu, but with a smaller frame. Rintarou could clearly throw a punch, if the broadness of her covered shoulders were anything to go by, but Osamu surmised she could probably take the blow. And besides, she really wanted to kiss Motoya.
Wordlessly, Osamu cradled Motoya’s jaw, eyes still trained on Rintarou. She pressed their parted lips together, gloating at the surprise that shot across Rintarou’s face as Osamu and her girlfriend finally kissed, just as she had suggested they do. Osamu only looked away when Motoya quickly deepened the kiss, tilting her head back and to the side, swiping her tongue across Osamu’s lips.
Osamu let herself melt into it as the attack she expected from Rintarou never came. She let Motoya press her tongue into her mouth, letting out a deep breath as they rolled together. Her hands slid from Motoya’s jaw and down her back, one settling on the small of her waist and the other boldly cupping her perky ass.
Still, no reaction from Rintarou. Motoya moaned at the touch, moving closer to Osamu until their legs tangled together. Osamu cracked open an eye as she pressed her tongue into Motoya’s mouth, running it along her top teeth.
Rintarou reached for Motoya’s head, tangling her fingers in her short hair and tugging her away from Osamu. As she pulled, Motoya’s sharp canines scratched a line down Osamu’s tongue, immediately drawing blood to the surface. Osamu and Motoya let out simultaneous squawks of panic.
“Fuck,” Osamu grunted, swallowing her bloody spit and grimacing. “Yer teeth are sharp!”
“I am so sorry,” Motoya replied immediately, moving back to Osamu despite the hold Rintarou had around her waist again. “Let me see.”
“Let’s get off the dance floor,” Rintarou butted in, walking away from the pair and heading for darkened booths along the wall.
Motoya pulled Osamu along by the wrist, obediently following after her. Osamu tried to nurse her tongue, unsure on whether sticking it out or keeping it in her mouth was the better option. A bemused expression she received from an onlooker they passed by had Osamu reeling it back in.
“Dang, ya got me good,” Osamu grunted as Rintarou sat her down in a booth by the shoulders.
“I’ll go get water,” Motoya said apologetically, wincing as Osamu swallowed again. “Don’t swallow it if you can help it.”
“I can’t,” Osamu replied sarcastically, but Motoya was already too far gone to hear her.
“Let me see,” Rintarou said, scooching into the booth beside Osamu until their legs were pressed together. Osamu frowned, but opened her mouth to reveal her sliced tongue.
Before Osamu could process it, Rintarou’s lips were on hers. Osamu grunted in surprise, shoving at Rintarou’s shoulder instinctively but getting no response. Her eyes widened, searching for a way out, and it was then that she saw Rintarou’s eyes. They were different from before, sharper, colder, and Osamu finally understood Rintarou’s hunger. She was a predator and Osamu was her prey. Her earlier possession over Motoya now seemed more like the couple was two wolves fighting over the same elk. Osamu felt like nothing more than meat to Rintarou.
Osamu was ready to really push Rintarou away when she felt two things at once. One: her tongue suddenly hurt a lot less and her saliva was far less bloody than before. Two: Rintarou’s canines were definitely, 100%, longer than they were before. Osamu thoughtlessly ran her tongue along them, forgetting the cause of her earlier injury. They must’ve been at least an inch long. Rintarou groaned.
“Fuck, how did she resist you after tasting this?” Rintarou asked, although it didn’t seem like she was actually speaking to Osamu.
Osamu’s heart pounded in her chest. She didn’t understand what Rintarou could possibly find appealing about the taste of her blood. She leaned away from Rintarou, scooting back until her head hit the wall. She had nowhere else to go as Rintarou crowded against her, this time with her mouth angled towards Osamu’s neck. She bared her teeth, seeming like a snake ready to strike. Osamu braced for impact.
“Oh, no, Rin,” Motoya cried, yanking on the back of Rintarou’s shirt collar until she relented, turning to Motoya with a crazed expression.
“Toya, I-“
“Rin, no,” Motoya repeated sharply. She tugged on Rintarou again.
“I was just trying to help her, but-“ Rintarou suddenly rose to her feet. “You have to taste this,” she said, before balling up her spit. Motoya locked her lips together, but Rintarou pried them open with her thumb and kissed her for just long enough to swap spit.
Osamu should’ve cringed in disgust at the idea of a couple sharing the taste of her blood, but the whipped-around starved look that Motoya now shot her had her stomach fluttering. She panted quietly, covering her mouth with one light hand as Motoya looked back and forth between them.
“Sorry, Osamu-“ Motoya said, gasping as she reached for Rintarou’s hand. “Fresh air- We need- Yeah.”
The couple were quickly weaving their way across and out of the club before Osamu could formulate a reply. She sat in the booth trying to catch her breath for a long moment before her brain could catch up. As soon as it did, she was on her feet and following after them.
Osamu lost them at the door of the club, but as soon as she was outside, she could see Motoya’s chestnut hair disappear around an alleyway corner. She dashed after them, waving off the concerned doorman who must’ve noticed her frazzled state. She caught up as Motoya pinned Rintarou to the wall, frowning sternly up at her.
With the pulse of the music still audible from outside the club and the distance between them, the only whispered words she could hear exchanged were “We can’t” and “But,” but Osamu had a pretty good idea they were referring to her. She took another step towards them, accidentally kicking a small pebble down the concrete.
Their eyes shot towards her. There was a single pause, before they both took long strides towards Osamu. Rintarou reached her first. “You shouldn’t have followed,” she mumbled, pinning Osamu to the wall just as Motoya reached her.
“I’m sorry,” Motoya said softly, reaching up to tuck Osamu’s hair behind her ear.
Osamu couldn’t understand what the fuck Motoya would be sorry for as she began kissing her. She stood pinned against the wall by two incredibly hot women, one who couldn’t seem to get enough of making out with her and the other who kissed from her earlobe down to the crook of her neck and-
“Oh, fuck,” Osamu groaned, rolling her head to the side as she felt the sharp, screaming pain of Rintarou’s teeth piercing her neck, just above her pulse. Motoya quickly regained her lips, palming Osamu’s chest as Rintarou sucked the blood from Osamu’s neck. As the reality set in on her, Osamu noticed that Motoya’s teeth now seemed inhumanly long and sharp. She shivered. “What the fuck?”
Rintarou’s eyes opened, looking pointedly at Motoya. Motoya sighed, releasing Osamu’s mouth but still clinging to her wherever they could touch. Rintarou remained unmoved.
“We’re vampires,” Motoya said plainly, eyebrows lowered. She dropped her voice. “And you shouldn’t have followed us.”
Logically, vampires didn’t exist. Osamu knew this. She also knew that sometimes people with crazy fetishes frequented clubs looking for lonely young women. She knew she should be suspicious, should’ve stopped this before it even began, and should at least now call for help from the doorman who was surely still within earshot. Instead, she opened her mouth to let Motoya kiss her again.
And instead of doing so, Motoya pierced the skin of Osamu’s bottom lip with her teeth.
Osamu screamed, truly screamed as Motoya drank the blood that poured from her lip. Rintarou purred against her, finally slowing in her motions but still with her teeth locked in Osamu. She let her tongue loll out of her mouth, rolling it in lazy circles around the pierced holes in Osamu’s skin. The gentle motion was a sharp contrast to the burning pain of Osamu’s mouth.
As Motoya drank her blood, she shifted closer to Osamu, until her legs were placed on either side of one of Osamu’s. Rintarou placed a hand on her lower back, rubbing her thumb in circles until Motoya began slowly rocking her hips, grinding against Osamu’s thigh. She let out a quiet moan.
Osamu felt drunk. She barely noticed when Rintarou finally released her neck, so distracted by Rintarou at the same time running her hand down Osamu’s torso until she palmed at Osamu’s groin. Osamu couldn’t help but to rock into the touch, head falling back with a groan.
“Fuck,” Rintarou said, chuckling slightly. “You just found this one here, randomly?”
Motoya shot her a glare. She withdrew her fangs in one quick movement before taking Osamu in a deep kiss, pressing her tongue against the holes in Osamu’s inner lip as much as possible until they slowly closed. Osamu supposed if vampires were real, then their magical healing spit might as well be real too.
“She has a name, you know?” Motoya replied sarcastically, before turning back to Osamu. “Osamu, I’m sorry, we shouldn’t have just jumped-“ She froze, eyes taking in the sight of Osamu.
Osamu didn’t have to wonder how she looked. Her mouth still hung open, tongue running across where the holes Motoya had left in her lip had just been. Her cheeks felt extraordinarily hot and damp with sweat. She could feel her hair sticking to the brick wall Rintarou had her pushed against. She was wrecked.
Rintarou and Motoya shared a look. “Did… Did you enjoy that?” Motoya asked hesitantly.
Osamu nodded, trying and failing to shut her mouth. Her breath came in short pants.
Rintarou leaned closer, inspecting Osamu’s face. “You’re not drunk, are you?”
Osamu shook her head this time.
“She only had one shot, that I know of,” Motoya chimed in.
Rintarou hummed. She set one finger beneath Osamu’s chin, tilting it up until their eyes locked solidly together. “Wanna come home with us?”
“Please,” Osamu replied, her voice coming out in little more than a whisper.
Rintarou and Motoya both flashed dangerously sharp grins. “Of course, baby,” Rintarou said.
Motoya left them in the alley to flag down a cab as Rintarou slowly led Osamu after her. Osamu couldn’t walk straight by herself, clinging onto Rintarou’s arm for support. Rintarou chuckled, her voice coming out in a low purr. “It’s the blood loss.”
Osamu nodded dizzily. It seemed to make everything for the next half hour move at a strange pace. She was ushered into a cab, sitting in the middle seat between the couple and resting her head on Motoya’s shoulder. Motoya tangled their fingers together as Rintarou draped a hand over Osamu’s inner thigh. It felt like they practically teleported to their destination. She didn’t remember the route to their apartment, nor the path through the upscale building to reach the upper floor they lived on, nor their apartment number. Osamu really only refocused as Rintarou ushered her to a large, plush bed set in the middle of a dimly lit room.
Osamu collapsed into it, smiling to herself as Rintarou followed after her. Motoya crawled on the bed beside them as Rintarou reached her, licking a line down her throat. Motoya set a hand on Osamu’s cheek and turned her face towards hers, taking Osamu in a soft kiss. Osamu let out a muffled moan as Rintarou nipped the crest of her throat while slipping a hand just beneath Osamu’s shirt.
“Ya don’t have to be gentle,” Osamu panted, whining when Motoya lightly bit her lip, just enough to irritate the residual soreness without piercing her skin again.
Rintarou flicked her eyes up. “Don’t worry,” she purred. “We won’t be.”
In a rush of motion, Rintarou pulled Osamu’s shirt up and over her head, flinging it onto the floor somewhere in the room. Osamu was quickly reminded she had foregone a bra earlier.
Rintarou let out a long, amused whistle before ducking her head to suck on one of Osamu’s nipples. Osamu moaned, shifting beneath her to wrap her thighs around Rintarou’s bent knee. Rintarou’s teeth grazed her sensitive skin, always threatening the rush of pain and making Osamu’s mouth hang open, groans falling freely out.
Motoya licked and kissed her way down Osamu’s neck before landing on Osamu’s collarbone. She laved her tongue flat over the bone, across Osamu’s body until she reached the meat of her shoulder. She paused for only a second before biting down, forcing her teeth through layers of skin, muscle, fat.
Osamu groaned loudly, body flailing against her will. Rintarou held her down, hands firm on her upper arms so Motoya could drink from her. Motoya moaned hungrily, burrowing closer to Osamu and forcing her teeth even deeper into Osamu’s flesh. Blood that Motoya couldn’t drink directly from the source dripped down Osamu’s arm, surely staining the sheets of their bed.
“T-Toya,” Osamu panted, head falling back into the pillows as she submitted to her bite, to Rintarou continuing to toy with and suck on her nipples. Her breath shook as Rintarou intentionally pressed her teeth down, just to the edge of breaking. Her hips rocked up, grinding her clothed cunt against Rintarou’s thigh.
“You like that, baby?” Rintarou questioned, unlatching from Osamu’s chest and brushing her long fingers through Motoya’s hair. “Like being our bloodbag?”
Osamu shivered. “Y-yeah,” she agreed quietly.
Motoya smirked. She finally freed her teeth, licking at the wound she left to stop the bleeding. The pain dulled as she did so, and Osamu realized with a shudder that she really, really wanted it to hurt.
“Leave it,” Osamu said quickly, hearing the edge of panic in her own voice.
Motoya sent a curious glance up at Osamu, before a shadow of understanding passed over her face. She licked her lips instead, cleaning them of Osamu’s blood. “Whatever you want,” she purred.
Osamu nodded, swallowing. She carded her fingers through Motoya’s hair, pulling her head closer so she could lock their lips together. Rintarou deftly unbuttoned Osamu’s skirt before tugging it down her hips and off her legs. Rintarou then moved down the end until she settled between Osamu’s thighs, her hot breath fanning out across Osamu’s boyshorts.
Osamu couldn’t look away from Rintarou as she leaned her head against one of Osamu’s thighs, her tongue running over her extended canines. She shivered. She wanted it.
Motoya made a tiny frustrated sound in her throat. “Don’t worry about her,” she said, stroking along Osamu’s jaw until Osamu finally pulled her gaze upward. Motoya smiled as their eyes met, moving up onto her knees and removing her tiny dress, pulling it over her head in a movement with just enough clumsiness to not have Osamu’s hips jerking up into Rintarou’s jaw. Osamu was still, however, delighted to see that Motoya had not been wearing anything beneath the dress at all.
Motoya hesitated for a second, but Osamu knew exactly what she wanted. “C’mere,” Osamu said, setting her hands on Motoya’s small thighs and pulling her until they were pressed on either side of Osamu’s head.
Motoya sighed in pleasure as Osamu pulled her hips down towards her face, immediately licking a strip through her folds as soon as she could reach. Osamu moaned loudly at the taste, sugar bursting on her tongue as she lapped all the juices from her cunt. Motoya keened quietly, rocking back until Osamu’s tongue pressed past her entrance, fucking into her tight beat.
Osamu was so lost in the taste and sounds of Motoya that she almost forgot about Rintarou. The brush of teeth against her sensitive inner thigh was the only thing needed to jog her memory, but it was also the only warning she received before Rintarou clamped down again, her teeth tearing through Osamu’s skin and down to her veins.
“Fuck!” Osamu shouted into Motoya’s pussy. The pain nearly blinded her, the sight of Motoya’s dripping folds going fuzzy from pleasure. Her head knocked back, mouth hanging open as a pained moan tore its way out of her throat.
Motoya wrenched Osamu’s head back up by a tight fistful of her hair, humping Osamu’s face in two, unsteady thrusts until her clit found purchase in Osamu’s mouth. Osamu, the ever obedient bloodbag, clamped her lips around it, sucking and rolling her tongue to try to distract herself from the searing, burning pleasure racing up her body.
Rintarou laughed meanly, retracting her fangs. It was clear to Osamu they were done drinking her blood at this point, and were now merely toying with her. The thought made her whine. Rintarou lightly spanked her hip. “You had to shut her up? What if I want to hear her scream for me?”
“Y-you need to sh-Ah!” Motoya started, cutting herself off with a sharp moan as Osamu bullied her hand between Motoya’s thighs so she could sink two fingers into her loose cunt. Motoya’s thighs shook on either side of her head, matching her voice as she finished her sentence. “Shut up.”
Rintarou laughed through her nose. Osamu felt her fingers finally hook in her boyshorts and lifted her hips to let Rintarou peel them off of her. She gasped as Rintarou ran two fingers down her slit, spreading her open before plunging two fingers into her with no warning.
“Oh,” Osamu gasped, releasing Motoya’s clit to moan freely. Her hips bucked, knocking her pelvis against Rintarou’s nose. Rintarou grunted in pain, wrapping her arms tighter around Osamu’s thighs and shifting her free hand until her fingertips pressed against the bite she’d left on her thighs. Osamu screamed.
“Stop being mean,” Motoya chided, rocking her hips down until Osamu remembered that anything other than Rintarou’s touch existed.
She thrust her tongue into Motoya, burying as deep as she could, automatically matching the pace of Rintarou on her. Motoya moaned loudly, back arching. Her thighs tightened around Osamu’s head. Osamu groaned against her, humping Rintarou’s hand, forcing her deeper.
“R-Rin,” Motoya stuttered, calling out as her hips rolled at a rapidly increasing pace, her skin slapping. “S-so good.”
“Tell our guest, not me,” Rintarou replied. She rested her head on one of Osamu’s thighs, teasingly pinching a small amount of skin between just two of her canines. Osamu gasped. Rintarou chuckled.
“Osamu, ‘Samu,” Motoya cried. Her grinding didn’t let up. Osamu was breathless. She circled Motoya’s clit with her fingers, slick dripping down her hand and forearm.
Motoya screamed as she came, thighs quivering as her body went stiff, pussy gushing wetness down Osamu’s chin and into her mouth. Osamu drank it in, licking every drop she could get, moaning at the taste and Rintarou not letting up on her own cunt for a second. Motoya tasted sweet, a shocking contrast to her diet of metallic blood.
Motoya sighed as Osamu continued lapping at her cunt, eventually releasing her hair and gracefully sliding off of Osamu’s face and sitting on the bed beside her. She shot a smirk down at Rintarou, who Osamu could now see.
Blood dripped down Rintarou, red rivers tracing their way from her lips, down her chin, sparsely decorating her neck until they reached her chest. Osamu shivered as Motoya crawled down the bed, pulling Rintarou up until she could duck her head to lick Osamu’s blood from Rintarou’s skin.
Osamu couldn’t stop the groan from slipping past her lips, watching the couple once again swap the taste of her, now her blood and her slick. Her body burned hot, heart pounding off-beat.
“T-Toya,” Osamu found herself saying, sitting up and hesitantly setting her shaking fingers on Motoya’s thigh.
Motoya tore herself away from Rintarou, only making brief eye contact with Osamu before surmising what she needed.
Motoya took a sharp breath before stabbing her teeth in the pulse of Osamu’s throat, just beneath her ear and jaw. Osamu couldn’t scream. She couldn’t breathe. All she could do was quake and cling to Motoya, eye clamping shut. There was no pain, only pure pleasure shooting through her veins. Motoya slowly lowered her back against the mattress.
Rintarou slid off the bed to shed her clothes before climbing back on, settling with one leg swung over Osamu’s hip and the other just between her spread thighs. Osamu didn’t realize what she was doing until her other leg was being lifted and Rintarou was angling herself against it until their pussies met, squelching loudly as Rintarou wasted no time in grinding them together.
“Oh, fuck,” Osamu said quietly, head lolling back. Motoya giggled as she released her bite, quickly leaving another just an inch lower, following the path of her veins. Osamu’s voice caught in her throat.
“Keep biting her,” Rintarou said, “She gets so wet.”
Motoya hurried to obey, littering bites down Osamu’s neck. They oozed trails of blood. Osamu moaned, dizzily putting a hand to her neck, staining her fingertips with blood. It gathered beneath her nails, deep red as she raised her hand above her head, whole body rocking as Rintarou ground against her.
Rintarou released Osamu’s leg, setting it bent onto the bed to grab Osamu’s wrist, pressing Osamu’s fingers into her mouth to lick them clean. She groaned as she tasted Osamu again, teeth grazing Osamu’s knuckles. Osamu grunted in pain, although her hips knocked upwards against Rintarou’s.
“You’re crazy,” Rintarou laughed, kissing Osamu’s wet fingertips. “We have to keep you around.”
“I agree,” Motoya chimed in, kissing Osamu’s collarbone before biting her shoulder. Osamu winced and whined. Her pussy clenched around nothing. She was desperate to cum.
“What do you think?” Rintarou asked, turning her gleaming eyes onto Osamu’s. “You want to keep being our blood bank?”
“Hngh,” Osamu grunted out, unable to form words. Her only thought was drink me, fuck me, kiss me-
Rintarou laughed. “Got it.”
She raised Osamu’s leg once more, kissing the side of Osamu’s knee before sinking her teeth into the muscle, hips kicking as she did.
Osamu whined as she came, a pitiful noise squeezed out of her by the overwhelming sensations that controlled her entire body. Her ears rang, eyes shot wide as Motoya bit her anew, as Rintarou kept moving her hips against hers and kept drinking her blood. She’d never come so hard in her life.
Motoya slipped a hand between Rintarou and Osamu’s pussies to circle Rintarou’s clit in quick motions, making her follow Osamu over the edge only moments later. Her teeth tore deeper into Osamu’s flesh as she came, blood pouring down Osamu’s leg just as Rintarou’s slick coated both their thighs. Her moan was a sound Osamu would never forget, deep, silky, and unbelievably sexy.
After they caught their breath, Rintarou eased Osamu’s leg down with a shushing sound as the pain of the dozens of bites coating her body caught up to Osamu. Osamu lay flat on her back on the bed, eyes half-closed as Motoya peppered kisses up her neck, subtly licking every bite to soothe Osamu’s wounds. Rintarou stretched out on her flank on the other side of Osamu.
After a deep breath, Osamu attempted coherent speech. “I meant yes, by the way,” she said quietly, staring at the ceiling in hopes of avoiding embarrassing eye contact.
Motoya picked her head up, drawing that eye contact anyway. “I figured,” she chirped, grinning. “You seemed really into it.”
Osamu hummed. She was. She tilted her neck back as she met Rintarou’s gaze.
“But no more tonight,” Rintarou said, smirking as she patted Osamu’s hip. “Don’t want to suck you dry.”
Osamu muffled the pout that naturally stretched its way across her lips. She would like to have endless bites, but she knew they were right. Luckily, it was clear that these would not be her last. She let her eyes fall shut, feeling the warmth on either side of her and the sharp burn of drying wounds. “Fine,” she mumbled.