#28ylbt

You woke to the sound of wind moving through dead leaves, one or two of them were pulled from their branches and now floated delicately to the ground. It was the leaf that landed on your nose that woke you up. The strange itch of it that had you scrunching your nose before lifting a hand to brush it away.

For a few slow, disoriented seconds, you forgot where you were.

There was a soft huff of a laugh next to you, you turned and saw those deep brown eyes that belonged to none other than Jimmy Ink. She had one eye open, the other still heavy with the nights sleep. You’d been alone for the past couple days, no sign of anyone. Not that you minded, and certainly not that she minded.

Each night, if not multiple times a day, you were subjected to the bliss of her skill. Her hands, her tongue, her voice, even her eyes had a way of taking you to a level of pleasure you hadn’t even dreamed of. You didn’t want to admit it, but it was slowing down your recovery. Every time you felt you had the energy to walk more than 5 minutes, she took that as a sign that you were ready for another round. Truth was, Ink was enamoured by you. By your sounds, by your voice, even by your eyes which had a way of making her feel dizzy and fulfilled all at once.

Now you lay under a dying tree, on a makeshift mattress in the form of a thin blanket. Not that it brought you any discomfort, Ink ensured you were on top of her each night, using her chest as a pillow, her legs as extra coverage. Even now, her arm was still draped securely over your waist, loose but possessive, her body curved around yours as though she had decided that day she first saw you that this was where you belonged. Her chin moved to be rested lightly against the crown of your head, her breath warm and steady in your hair.

Every part of you seemed suddenly awake at once: the ache in your limbs, the lingering heat in your skin, the way your heart jumped when you realised how close she still was. You’d thought from the past few days you’d be used to it, but apparently not. The first night returned to you in flashes: her voice in your ear, her grip, the way she had looked at you like you were something sacred and dangerous all at once.

You swallowed quietly.

Ink noticed your eyes darting down to her own lips. The cozy morning air was quickly replaced with a breeze of desire. It was subtle at first, a small shift of her shoulder. A deeper breath from you. Her fingers flexed slightly against your side, feathering over your bare hip causing a deep shiver to pulse through you.

Her eyes were fully open now and for a moment, she just looked. Didn’t even breathe as she gazed into your eyes.

“Morning,” she rasped, voice rough with sleep.

“Morning,” you whispered back, your voice thin and faintly broken at the edges, and you saw her notice it immediately in the way her gaze sharpened, concern flickering briefly across her features before she smoothed it away.

Her eyes drifted slowly over you, lingering on your mouth, your lashes, the faint crease between your brows that only appeared when exhaustion weighed too heavily on you.

“You okay?” she asked quietly, her voice gentler now.

You nodded, though the movement felt heavier than it should have. “Yeah. Just… tired.”

A small, knowing smile curved her lips. “Yeah. Me too.”

You let out a quiet huff, something playful and familiar rising instinctively to the surface. “Wonder whose fault that is.”

Something dark and warm flickered behind her eyes. Her memory delighted by the images of you the days before: your head tipped back, your mouth parted in helpless, breathless sounds, your body arching instinctively toward her touch as though drawn by gravity itself. She remembered the way you had clung to her, the way your voice had broken around her name, the way you had trusted her without hesitation.

Her thumb brushed lightly along your jaw, tracing the curve of your skin as if reminding herself that you were real. “Careful,” she murmured, her voice dropping into something slower, rougher. “Keep talking like that and I might not be so nice this time.”

Heat pooled low in your stomach. You swallowed, your breath catching almost imperceptibly. “…Wasn’t asking you to be.”

Her breath hitched before she could stop it.

Slowly, deliberately, she leaned closer, closing the already narrow space between you until her forehead brushed yours, her warmth seeping into you like a slow-burning flame. Her grip tightening and pulling you closer, her thigh now placing itself firmly between yours.

“Oh?” she whispered.

Your pulse thundered in your ears but was halted by the sudden crash of movement in the bushes that shattered the moment.

Leaves rustled violently along with the branches that snapped.

Ink froze and every trace of softness vanished from her in an instant. Her body shifted in front of you on pure instinct, one arm lifting protectively as she positioned herself between you and the sound, her other hand already sliding toward the blade that’d never strayed far from reach.

“Stay behind me,” she muttered, her voice low and sharp.

Your heart lurched painfully in your chest as you obeyed without thinking, shrinking back slightly as adrenaline flooded your system.

The foliage parted and you awaited the danger.

It was Jimmy Fox first, stumbling slightly over exposed roots. Then Jones, laughing their way in behind them. Followed closely by an overly cheerful Sir Lord who was sharing in that laughter. His presence immediately filling the clearing.

Ink’s shoulders loosened by a fraction. Relief that it wasn’t the dead, but disappointment at the fact that your days alone with her ended in an instant.

Ink exhaled slowly, forcing her hand away from her weapon.

Crystal lifted an eyebrow, amusement glinting faintly in his gaze as he looked between the two of you, still unnaturally close.

“Didn’t realise we were interruptin’ somethin’,” he drawled.

Ink stiffened. Her jaw tightened. “No,” she said quickly. “We were just sleepin’. Sir.”

Before anyone could push further, a sudden blue blur of movement burst from the far side of the camp.

“PET!”

Jimmima came barrelling toward you at full speed, shoving Ink out of the way as she did. Her wings were crooked, her tracksuit jacket half-buttoned, her hair tangled wildly from travel and excitement, streaks of blood from whatever they’d encountered hardening some strands.

She nearly knocked you over as she wrapped herself around you, clinging tightly as though afraid you might disappear if she let go. “I missed you,” she blurted. “So much. Like, you don’t even understand. I thought about you every single day and I stole you a rock because it looked like a heart and-”

You laughed softly, hugging her back out of pure instinct, she was the one who’d saved you after all.

Ink watched, the glare in her side-eye palpable. Every muscle in her body tightened as she took in the sight of Jimmima holding you, pressing her face into your shoulder, fussing over you with unrestrained affection.

Something bitter twisted in her chest.

Before she could say anything, before she could step in and steal you away for herself, Crystal cleared his throat. “Ink,” he said. “Walk with me.”

She turned reluctantly.

“Now.” His tone implied it wasn’t a question.

She finally nodded and begrudgingly pulled herself together to walk with Crystal. As they walked, Crystal spoke plainly when there were out of earshot from the others.

“That one, she’ll be up of the fight,” he said. “Tomorrow or the next day.”

Ink stopped short. “She’s not ready.”

He turned sharply. “Not ready?” he scoffed, “What the fuck have you been doin’?”

“Nothing, I-” she replied too quickly. “Just think she needs more time.”

He studied her carefully. “No one gets a free ride Jimmy, you know that better than anyone.”

She said nothing in response, the pain of the past with him was necessary for survival.

.

By the time night fully settled over the camp, the world seemed to shrink to just the people here around the fire with you. The sky darkened into a heavy blanket of darkness and distant stars, barely visible through drifting smoke and dust from the fire at the centre of the clearing which became the only true source of warmth and light.

Voices floated lazily through the air, there was sharp laugher, bickering over food, humming and small discussions of fighting techniques. It was the closest thing to peace the wasteland ever allowed this group of violent bandits.

You sat near the fire with Jimmima, your knees pulled loosely to your chest, fatigue curling through your body like always, today was the first day you’d managed to stay awake the entire day which drained you more than you thought it would’ve.

Across the flames, Ink sat with a few of the others, her posture rigid despite the relaxed atmosphere. She barely spoke. When she did, her answers were short, distracted. Her eyes kept drifting back to you, drawn helplessly, she was tethered to you by something invisible and unbreakable. Every time your gaze met hers, something twisted in her chest.

And every time Jimmima leaned closer to you, it twisted tighter. Jimmima shifted beside you, studying your face with quiet concern. “You look absolutely wiped,” she murmured. “C’mon, pet. Get over ‘ere”

Before you could respond, she gently tugged you toward her and settled closer behind you, your back resting against her front. Her presence was warm, familiar, safe in a way that reminded you of the first days after she’d found you when you’d been nothing but bones and fever and fear and it was her who nurtured you back to some semblance of normality. While you felt a desire to be with Ink, you couldn’t deny the safety you felt with Jimmima.

She reached up and began carefully combing her fingers through your hair, working through knots and tangles with surprising patience.

“There,” she whispered. Her touch was light and tender. Her nails skimmed softly across your scalp as she smoothed your hair back, her fingertips moving in slow, circular patterns meant to soothe rather than excite. She knew that soon this hair would be gone, replaced with a wig like hers once you won the fight, it was your destiny, she knew it.

The tension melted before you could stop it, your shoulders loosened as your head tilted slightly into her hands. Your breathing slowed and a quiet sound slipped from your lips.

It wasn’t intentional, just a small, breathy noise of relief and pleasure, born from exhaustion and comfort and the simple mercy of being cared for.

Jimmima froze. Across the fire, Ink did too.

Jimmima leaned closer, her lips brushing your ear. “…Did you like that?”

You flushed faintly, embarrassed by how obvious your reaction had been, but nodded anyway. “Yeah,” you admitted softly.

She smiled, pleased, and resumed her gentle massage, a little more confident now, her thumbs working along your temples while her fingers threaded through your hair.

You closed your eyes without meaning to.

Another sound escaped you, softer and lower.

Ink’s breath caught painfully in her throat, and a dangerous spark erupted through her entire body. She suddenly felt like she was standing in the fire, but yet she was too far away from you.

That sound. Those sounds. They belonged to her.

That expression.The way your face softened, your lips parting slightly, your body relaxing completely. It was hers.

Not Jimmima’s. Not anyone’s. Her fingers curled into fists at her sides.

Jimmima noticed her reaction out of the corner of her eye, honestly it was hard not to. Ink’s glare was frozen on the two of you, and the atmosphere around the fire was suddenly awkward.

Not for Jimmima though, her hands slowed and grew more tender as her confusion was quickly shoved out of the way by means of possession.

Then leaning closer again, her voice barely audible as it touched your ears. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” she whispered. "I know how to make my pet feel good,"

You nodded again, weakly.

Ink felt something dark surge up inside her, and knew she had to leave before she did something stupid. “Sir, I’ll check the area.” She bit out.

“Check the area? Jimmy it’s fucking night time.” He responded, but she just kept walking past the tree line and into the darkness. “Ok, you do that.”

You wanted to follow her, but Jimmima’s grip on you tightened as if she read your thoughts. “Remember my pet, you’re mine. Ok? I saved you. I keep you.”

It sounded sweet from her, and your exhaustion took over again. You sighed, falling into slumber against the girl while thinking of the other.

.

You’d fallen asleep for a couple hours, but since then just been floating in that fragile in-between space where dreams blurred into memories. You noticed Ink wasn’t back, and a part of you couldn’t fully rest till she was. The rest of the group breathed softly around you, a low chorus of sleeping snores and rustling fabric and the sparking of dying embers.

A hand suddenly closed around your wrist, there was nothing gentle in it. But it was firm, and demanding. It pulled you away sharply.

You startled with sharp, silent gasp, heart slamming violently against your ribs as though trying to escape your chest. Unable to quite gain the attention of the sleeping Jimmima next to you, who luckily or unluckily wasn’t currently crowding you with her own body.

You’re eyes adjusted to the dark, “Ink?” you whispered, barely forming the word.

“Come on,” she murmured. Her voice was low and rough, scraped raw by emotion and restraint. “Now.”

Before your mind could catch up, she was already pulling you upright, her fingers tight around your wrist, her movements quick and purposeful, leaving no room for questions or hesitation. You stumbled slightly, disoriented, feet finding the  damp ground by instinct rather than thought.

“Ink, wait-” you whispered urgently.

She didn’t answer, her jaw clenched and shoulders rigid. All softness you’d come to cherish was gone from her stature. She guided you away from the sleeping camp, weaving silently between scattered blankets and half-collapsed tents, past the Jimmy’s bodies curled in exhaustion and weapons laid carelessly at their sides. The fire had burned down to faint embers now, glowing weakly like dying stars, barely strong enough to hold back the darkness.

You glanced back once. Jimmima lay peacefully in her blankets, face soft and unguarded, unaware that you were being pulled away from her side.

Guilt brushed against your chest like a ghost. “Ink,” you whispered again. “You’re hurting me.”

Her grip loosened by just a fraction when you made your way through the clearly of the woods. She didn’t speak but led you beyond the edge of camp, past the reach of firelight, into the deeper stretch of trees. The air was cooler here, sharper, brushing against your skin and raising goosebumps along your arms.

After minutes, she finally stopped. So abruptly in fact that you nearly collided with her.

She turned. In the faint moonlight filtering through tangled branches, her face was carved into sharp planes of shadow and silver. She looked like a ghost, but her eyes were alive, burning darkly while reflecting something dangerously close to desperation.

“What the fuck was that?” she demanded quietly. Her voice trembled despite her effort to control it, her anger subsiding momentarily as it made way for sadness.

You blinked. “What?”

“Don’t,” she snapped softly. “Don’t play dumb.”

She took a step closer. Her lips pressed into a thin line. “She had her hands in your hair,” Ink said, each word measured and restrained, like she was holding herself together by force. “All over you. And you were-” She stopped and swallowed. “You were falling apart for her.”

Heat rushed to your face. “Not like that,” you whispered. “She was just helping me relax. I was tired.”

“Tired?” Ink echoed bitterly.

She laughed once, sharp and humourless. “There you were,” she murmured, voice cracking, “eyes closed, mouth open, leaning into her. Do you have any idea,” she interrupted, her voice suddenly raw, “what that did to me?”

“I walked away,” she said quietly, “because if I hadn’t, I would’ve fucked you right there in front of everyone. Shown them, her, that you’re mine.”

The words struck deep, wetness coating your core within seconds. “Ink…” you breathed.

She stepped forward suddenly and grabbed the front of your shirt, “Maybe you wanted that. I get it now. You were trying to get that rise outta me, weren’t ya?”

You shook your head, too quickly, not sure what the truth was.

One of her hands moved slowly up to your neck, ghosting over that sensitive spot she’d come to know so well, the small inch where your pulse lived. Lingering for a second, her hand then suddenly slipped to your hair grabbing a handful and pulling sharply. The same spot that’d been so tenderly dealt with hours ago by Jimmima was now stinging for Ink. “You make those sounds for me,” she whispered. “You look like that for me. You melt like that for me.”

She pulled a bit tighter, “And seeing you do it for someone else-” She broke off for a second, you could’ve sworn you saw a glimmer of a tear in her eye. “That nearly killed me.”

Your breath caught. You didn’t dare speak, not that you had the words.

Her thumb traced the line of your jaw, and her breath became animalistically unrhythmic. Her sharp gaze dropping to your lips like gravity.

She didn’t give you a chance to pull away, didn’t give you the opportunity to protest. She dove head first to your lips. There was no kindness in it, she forced her tongue past your lips with no resistance. Her teeth quickly found your bottom lip, and she bit, hard. You yelped, which seemed to fuel her more.

Her lips continued to move feverishly against yours, and only when she pulled away for much needed air did you see the blood from your lip painted across her own. You reached up, a finger brushing against it softly – your touch a stark contrast to hers. It looked beautiful on her lips, a part of you that was now a part of her. The air between the both of you was heavy, you stood close and shared breath.

Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Tell me you don’t want me,” she said, almost pleading you to say it. She wanted you to deny her, she could take you back and learn to despise you. “Say it, and I’ll walk you back right now”

The silence stretched. You opened your mouth, and for a moment her heart shattered at the idea of what you might say.

“…I want you.”

Her breath broke, the coil snapped. That was it, all she needed to hear to completely lose control.

Her hands tightened, pulling you against her. Her lips returned to yours, the jealously that lingered was palpable on her lips. “Then don’t ever look like that for anyone else,” she murmured against your skin. “Ever again. You hear me?”

When you didn’t answer verbally, she growled. Turning you around so that your back was against her chest. It was déjà vu from your first night together, except this time was even more charged. Her hand shoved down, slipping under your tracksuit pants without warning. You were already wet, but there was still a nip of pain when she shoved 2 of her fingers inside without warning. Instinctively you backed into her, your arse curving perfectly into the crease of her hips. She plunged her fingers in at a vicious pace, not so much for pleasure but almost with the purpose of claiming every inch of you.

Her check was against yours, tongue slipping across leaving a trail from your ear to the corner of your lips. “I asked you a fucking question.” Her voice was rough with need. “Do you fucking hear me?” Each word was spat out, the final one punctuated with a sharp pinch on your clit – you hadn’t even realised she’d removed them from inside.

With a pained yelp, you nodded.

She was unsatisfied, “Words pet.” She spat out that nickname, the sound of it from Jimmima’s mouth had made Ink want to throw up. “Use your fuckin words.” She pinched your clit again.

“Yes!” You yelled, not ready for another pinch should you have stayed silent.

She paused all movement, roughly turning your face to look at hers. Deep within her eyes you saw an emotion that you could not place. Was it anger? Fear? Jealousy? Desire? Love? No, a strange mix of all, it was unconditional devotion.

She flipped you around, driving you towards a tree trunk that stood meters behind you. The forest was quickly becoming your sanctuary, the trees open but providing a sense of divine privacy for the two of you. As soon as she had you against the bark, she shoved you again for good measure before attaching those lips to the spot your pulse run under on your neck. The sounds you made were immediate, and there was no question that she was the only one to get them from you. Her tongue moved from one side of your neck to the other in one clean stroke, matching the area on her own neck that was covered in Ink. Her hand was firm on your jaw still, moving your head as she saw fit to not leave any inch unkissed.

Her hands moved fast, stripping you of everything until you stood alone and naked against the tree. She looked over you, and even though she’d seen you bare multiple times, it still left her breathless. Her stomach turned with the thought that she could’ve lost you to another so soon after she got you. That jealously flaring in her again, and you saw it behind her eyes.

You tried to calm your breathing, tried to usher her to slow down, to meet your eyes and just breathe with you. Ink was having none of that.

Quickly biting and nipping down your collarbone, passing by your chest for once, and falling to her knees in front of you. There was no words, no slow easing into it. Her mouth was on you in an instant.

An open mouth to your bundle of nerves, sucking it sharply and cruelly. Again, not so much for pleasure but a staking of claim. It was overwhelming, and not quite right, the sting hadn't yet turned to pleasure but she didn't seem to care. After a minute, Ink pulled away, biting hard into the flesh of your thigh, looking up at your pained expression with a gleam in her eyes. Her head inched closer again to your core, but now she did not move further. Her warm breath colliding with the cold air just inches away from where you needed her most.

Frustration was quickly outgrowing desire, and you let out a small whine.

She just laughed, “You look fucking pathetic.”

“Inky, just-” you tried to think of the best combination of words to ensure she’d keep going. You stood over her, and yet she held all the power.

“You are pathetic.” She said harshly. There was a sting in that, you couldn’t deny it but before you had a chance to overthink it, her mouth was on you again.

That same open mouth kiss planted on your clit, her hands falling to your arse and pulling you impossibly close to her. This time it was pleasure. Her tongue moved ever so skilfully on the area that sparked jolts through the rest of your body. She moved lower, and you felt all composure leave your body, half your weight falling against the tree and the rest onto her face. She let out a sound of approval at this, the hum from her throat amplifying your feeling.

Your hand found her wig, fingers intertwining with the synthetic strands. Soon you’d have one like it, you knew that. Your leg was raised, and without thinking you brought it over her shoulder. Her mouth continued its diligent work; the sounds of wetness and your moans coated the entire surrounding area. You were close, she could see it in the crease of your forehead and the breathlessness of your sounds. Her eyes were locked on your face, relishing in the look of pleasure just incase you changed your mind.

She struggled to be rid of the thought that she’d wake to find you on top of Jimmima, or that you would make these sounds again for anyone else. At the intruding thought she pulled away, roughly pulling you down the ground where she knelt. You had been so close, the sudden lack of warmth on your core had you whine again, this time much more angrily.

“Oh shut up” she spat, pulling you onto her lap with ease that came with her toned arms. You faced her, your legs on either side of her hips, your core awfully close to hers but still too far away. In a moment of courage and desire fuelled strength, you roughly pulled at Ink’s shirt. With her help, you pulled it off, along with the sports bra that’d been keeping her chest a secret from you. You lent down, capturing her nipple in your mouth, taking your time with it before switching to the next. The sounds she made were not as loud as yours, but slightly more breathless.

In a reckless act of revenge for her abandoning your core and leaving you hanging moments before, your teeth latched onto one of her nipples. The hard and sharp movement had her quickly recoiling ever so slightly, before gripping your face with both of her hands and forcing you to look at her. “You fucking cunt.”

You would’ve huffed a laugh, but the sudden danger in her eyes left a flicker of fear dance through your desire. “I… sorry-”

She didn’t let you finish, one hand grabbing your mouth, hooking it with her fingers and forcing it to hers again. The other, moved back down between the two of you, pinching your clit yet again.

Her fingers were inside you within seconds, no longer needing any kind of permission in the way of words, your body gave her all the assurance she needed. She moved more rhymically now, her two fingers skilfully moving in and out, in and out, whole hand moving with them as she pushed her palm to that spot above your slit with every movement. You moaned into her mouth, and she breathed it all in. Her hips moved with the same pace of her hand, as if that would push her further in to you.

Maybe not physically, but spiritually it was working. You both felt as one. She was the bow, you were the arrow. She was the lover and you were the love.

Ink released your mouth, mumbling out a command that if you did not obey, would’ve killed her. “Say you’re mine.”

You didn’t need to think, there was no room for hesitation. You yelled it, “I’m yours. I’m yours.” and it was like you needed to hear it yourself, the waves of pleasure suddenly crushing into you like a train. A blinding light crossed your vision and your entire body went limp. Ink’s hand didn’t stop moving, slowed only slightly, as she watched with twisted delight at the look on your face. She’d seen it before, but with those words it seemed to make this a divine promise.

You shook, trembled even, and tried to crawl away from the now overwhelming sensation. Ink just adjusted her grip to hold your waist even closer. Her fingers moved from your slit, carrying the evidence of your pleasure up to her mouth. You watched intensely as she put those fingers into her mouth, tasting what was now her favourite meal.

Without warning, those same fingers went low again, circling your clit without any sense of mercy. “Prove it. Give me another, then I’ll believe you.”

She moved her fingers around and around, not letting up at the more pained sounds coming from the overstimulation. Your breathing picked up, and now you felt like you were suffocating. Her hand grew tighter, absolutely no relenting in her movements or intentions. Thank God, or Old Nick, or both, that the second high came quicker than the first. Equally as intense, but less satisfying as it was pushed by domination rather than pleasure. “There you are, there you go, good girl.” Her voice was hoarse but layered with a softness that you were worried was gone for good.  

You were spent.

For a long moment after, neither of you moved. Seemingly holding your breath as well. The world hovered in that fragile space between sound and silence, between breath and thought, as though even the night itself were holding still out of respect for what had just passed between you.

Soon you lay boneless against her, chest rising and falling too fast, limbs heavy and uncooperative, every nerve buzzing faintly as the last echoes of sensation slowly faded into warmth and exhaustion. Her movements softened at once. Her hands, which had been relentless only seconds before, gentled as though a switch had been flipped somewhere inside her. She loosened her grip and drew you closer instead, one arm sliding securely around your waist, the other coming up to cradle your shoulders.

Your head lolled slightly against her chest, and she adjusted her position without complaint, shifting so you were more comfortable, so your weight rested fully against her rather than hanging awkwardly between wakefulness and collapse.

She brushed damp hair away from your forehead with slow, deliberate strokes.

“There you are,” she whispered. “Breathe, love. With me.”

She demonstrated, drawing in a slow breath and letting it out deliberately, until you found yourself unconsciously matching her pace, your own breathing gradually evening out beneath her steady guidance. Ink pressed a gentle kiss into your hair.

Her thumb traced slow, absent patterns along your arm, as though reassuring herself that you were still real, still here.

“You fine?” she asked.

“Yeah,” you said honestly. “Tired. But… fine.”

That earned a small, relieved smile. “Why you tired all the time? Something’s seriously wrong with you, love. I’m getting worried.”

You let out a soft laugh, almost a groan, shaking your head. “Ink,” you muttered, voice teasing but low warning.

Ink chuckled, pressing her forehead to yours. She drew a breath and let it settle between you, quiet and intimate, you swore that you would get whip lash from her changing emotions.

She murmured a sound, almost secretively, her lips brushing your temple. Debating whether to say her next words, “You don’t need to call me Ink. My real name… is Kellie.”

You blinked, caught slightly off-guard, letting the sound of her name settle around you like a caress. Her eyes searched yours, calm, soft, and trusting, offering a piece of herself she’d shown to no one else.

“Kellie,” she whispered again, just barely, as if saying it aloud made it more real, made it more hers, and yet only yours to hold.

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