#tyrant-king-toru

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They have a silent contract, Otabe and Magic. When Magic is full of pent up frustration, she goes to Otabe and when Otabe is stressed and mad with want, she goes to Magic. Sometimes it’s sudden, and sometimes it’s not. Their needs change in accordance to the initiator. But somehow, it works for them. It works for both of them without even saying a word to each other.

They have silent triggers too. They don’t tell each other what they are, but when it comes to body language they understand. They’re two lovesick partners. Crazy in love, but not for each other.

Magic almost isn’t surprised when Otabe approaches her and hardly makes a sound. There’s a hidden aggression in her eyes, building up with each passing second. She drops her cards on accident but hardly makes a sound when Otabe takes her wrist and drags her to their secret space.

Well, it’s not as much as “theirs” when the reminiscent of red and black tiles decorate the old Rappappa club room and stay as a reminder of the Rappappa presidents and members before them. Otabe’s boots clack against the floor tiles as they walk close in on their destination. Magic lets her eyes rest on Otabe, registering that both of them are already preparing themselves as Otabe shakes off one side of her jacket and Magic pulls on her scarf.

And then—

BANG!

Magic is thrusted against the wall with vigor, the sound of the door closing following it immediately after. Otabe grabs her wrists against, pinning them above her head and now forcing her in a more vulnerable position. Magic looks directly into Otabe’s eyes to understand what she’s feeling—what she wants. There’s a twinkling of sadness hidden by anger and confusion. It’s the same look every time and she finally understands.

Lips make contact. Rough and passionate but for the wrong people. Magic closes her eyes and imagines someone else. That way it feels right and that’s all that matters to her.

The kiss is long, taking all the life out of her as she mutters Otabe toward the sofa. They may like sex, but Magic will not have it on the floor.

When they’re in the right place, Otabe carefully discards Magic’s shirt and watches as she voluntarily removes her bra and everything else because despite her aggression, Otabe knows how much she hates having to deal with ripped clothing or having to buy new ones. Magic is thankful for that.

Then Magic is before Otabe in all her glory. Her back is partially curved, giving her breasts a beautiful shape and Otabe, a breathless picture.

“Can I?” Otabe asks, referring to their scarves and breaking their illusions of someone else.

“Has it stopped you before?”

Nothing else is said and without words, Magic’s wrists are bound together and her eyes masked with cloth. She suppresses a smile. The feeling of restricted wrists make her heart explode with excitement. Her handicapped vision doesn’t help it settle down. She exhales, forcibly, to calm her breath.

There’s a moment of restlessness as there is silence when Otabe doesn’t move. Then a rustling of clothes and by the touching of bare skin, Magic easily guesses Otabe’s nakedness pressing against her. Their bodies almost compliment each other but this is the part where they pretend to be someone else; pretend to be with someone else. They are no longer Otabe and Magic, just someone they need the other to be. With that thought, Magic blindly follows her imagination, whispering the name of the person she loves while Otabe does the same.

She arches, the slow and fulfilling feeling of fingers caressing the area of her arousal. She feels like a leaf in the wind, carried off into a pleasure she's felt countless times before but never tired of.

“Yes…” she whispers when lips kiss the curve of her neck. She allows the feeling of teeth to take over her drive as a finger draws circles on her stomach. In her mind, the name of the girl she loves—the one with the straight hair and eyes she swears flashes with a flame when she’s determined—echoes over and over. In her mind, she sees this girl hanging over her with so much love she might burst.

“...ga,” she barely says as she feels a finger enter her, testing for approval before she feels another and then another. God, the feeling is almost unbearable to her. She twitches, not surprised but at the same time surprised, at a fourth. She hums a moaning song, makes a strange face, and closes her eyes despite seeing nothing.

“...alt,” Magic hears but in her trance, it translates to her own name. She whispers the girl’s name one more time.

Then she takes a deep breath, swearing that it’s coming but she’s not entirely sure if it will. It’s a tell that Otabe knows and exploits to the best of her abilities (and she absolutely hates and loves at the same time).

However, this time, Otabe drives her over and over the hill, continuing until the other party is tired or when Magic no longer feels like her body is her own. She forgets she’s at school—in the old president’s club room—when she’s made to come one last time.

“I love you. I love you so much...” Otabe murmurs and Magic feels like she's dreaming. She thinks she hears her name spoken in someone else’s voice but knows the tears touching her skin isn't theirs. She doesn’t say anything and drowns in the fatigue.

It barely registers to her that the door isn’t locked until their beloveds have entered the room and their names spoken queerly in the curious voices.

Otabe gasps and Magic hardly has time to react.