tank 'n spank

Half awake or not, he wasn’t so dense as to not hear the door open. Using the spare room as his crashing place meant he didn’t always get an uninterrupted sleep, seeing as there was a shit load of storage in here (boxes of pornos he couldn’t read man, it sucked) so he perked a little. He’d be up in a heartbeat if his Master needed him, one blind eye unearthing itself from the pillow to stare at the intruder. The foot steps were wrong for Dante, or Nero— or Vergil for that matter. It was as if after the door had opened and closed that there was no one in the room at all, except he knew better. The big guard dog of a Claymore was already getting tense, fangs peeping out from dark lips as claws planted themselves into the mattress as he rose up, probably menacing even naked and tangled in the blankets.

Man her skin was soft though.

The palm that suddenly was cradling his lifted and snarling face making the tense knot between his shoulders ease, and after a lazy nuzzle, the younger weapon simply collapsed back into the bed. No wonder he hadn’t heard anything, shadow and light playing vaguely as she moved around to the other side of the bed, Yamato was silent until she was ready to kill. Respect worthy really, considering how sharp his hearing was anymore. Red eyes flicked aside when he felt her crawling onto the bed, and a broad arm swept out to offer invitation to his side. He smacked his lips a few times, worked his jaw, got the crick of a half awake snarl out of the joint before finally smiling; a lazy exhale filling the air as her palm landed on his hand. “Hey Big Momma.”

The sharp, acute pressure of her short nails along the underside of his arm carved a smile across limited horizon, and he smirked wider. The limb flexed, fully prepared to curl her up next to him ‘forcefully’ and snuggle her for the next hour (or more) while he chased a few more Z’s. Sounded like a perfect plan to him, even when she stayed off his arm with a soft press of her palm. All smooth skin he knew had to be pale for him to pick up the light off it in the dark room, all so bizarrely soft. Like she didn’t have a callous on her, or at least where he had touched, like something straight out of fairy tales. Beautiful, quiet, kind, soft-- and surprisingly heavy.

He grunted, more out of surprise than her heft. He hadn’t expected the bed sheet to be pulled down so she could crawl on top of him. Uh yeah no he wasn’t awake enough for this, nostrils flaring to snort as he tried to lift up his head and ‘see’ what she was doing. All he got was some light of her…chest as her thighs spread out over his lower stomach. She was, uh, naked-- on top of him. Uh-- “Yamato--?” Nah, his voice wasn’t getting a little high or anything, never. She was just squeezing the air out of him; that was all, him pretty much helpless as she picked his hands up off the bed. ’Great Sparda--’ She was soft everywhere.

He didn’t move his hands after she had placed them on her sides, almost a little too scared to do so— he didn’t want to hurt her after all. She had put his palms on her ribs, every breath she took making the soft skin stretch around solid bones and breasts he felt on the back of his thumb knuckles shift. This was-- nice; nothing extreme, nothing freaky, just her sitting on him breathing. Peachy really, considering how fucking hard he was, from even just this. “Rebellion.” No, he didn’t shiver at her voice either. His hands finally skimming down her sides (he frowned as his left hand got stuck on a big patch of demon hide on her side) when she leaned forward, laying on top of him. She was… well, she had to be tired; her breathing so slow and even, so he sighed, and nuzzled his face into her neck. Plain licks given in affection as claws picked the sheets up onto of her, and he laid there underneath her.

Happy— but still. Fucking. Hard.