"And the way you pulled me by my hair? Shut up, shut up, up... I'm soaked..." Reilin's mouth kept running. I hooked an arm under her shoulder, helping her to her feet. Looking her over, she saw that her knee was bruised, not broken.
"Ains, is there a way to turn her off?" I asked, trying to tune out her yammering. The initial request for over-the-counter rutting no longer held its edge, and she was starting to grate on my ear.
"It'll run its course in a bit," she said, tapping a finger against her bar, "when she runs out of secrets."
"Fuck that! There's no way in hell I'm telling about the time I... sniffed your harness... in the bathhouse... locker room... while..." her voice slowed to a stop, grimacing at my side.
If that's what you wanted, you could have just asked.
"Kidding," Ainslet said, her cheeks dimpling and beaming, "just needed to jog her memory."
This turn gave me a lot to unpack, and I didn't have the time.
"My face!" Reilin blurted as I walked her to the door.
"You look fine."
She didn't, still wearing a mask of faded red and black. Too bad... No... Don't be a bitch...
"Alright. Hurry, please." I let her go and she rushed the counter, the sink began to spray as I grabbed beauty essentials from my stash by the door. The bristling sensation the sight of her always drew in me, now shrunken, carried less pull. My fire burned half as hot.
Jock-strap sniffer. I handed her an unused blouse to wipe her face with and a powderbox. As she worked, my thoughts turned back to her confessions. Cechele, apparently, was on a tirade. Reilin getting caught in it didn't come as much of a surprise; her father's position painted a target on her back.
The implications of Ainslets revealed capability were delicious, the truth-stick, the gush-pole, already sworn to my cause, its price clinging tight to my package. The défi de fierté would happen, I would make sure of it, however, I needed an angle. Simply making the girl blather seemed risky. She could either have no scandals to report or divulge something tragic enough to turn the crowd against me. I needed to lead her, just as Ains had done to Reilin.
"You better not think I'll let you do any of that shit," Reilin said, powdering her face, "Those were private thoughts."
"Implying I want to." I reached out to straighten one of her curls, and she winced, eyes fluttering. That's what I thought.
An impulse hit, a quake in my stomach, and my panties grew tighter. My hand veered, slid onto her jaw, she met my eyes, and then closed her own. Her pulse thrummed beneath my forefinger.
This better not be another ploy.
My last pass at her, years prior, only gained me ridicule. Her lips were parted, breath coming soft.
I traced my thumb to her lip, then rocked its nail into the flesh's give. "Haaa-", she opened her mouth, and the tip of her tongue rose, her eyes tensed.
Don't flip on me. One more Red Mill comment and I'll-
She leaned in, let my thumb brush between her lips, onto her wet tongue, and closed her teeth around it.
Fuck it.
I ripped it out and kissed her, one hand sliding back into her hair, streaking spit along her cheek. The other went to her hip and squeezed.
She nuzzled into it, mouth spreading wide, coaxing my tongue with hers. Placing her palms on the counter, she let me lean her back, our hips coming together.
We parted for breath, eyes still closed, she said, "I'm not-"
"Shut up." I gripped and spun her, the heel of my palm grinding into the small of her back.
This ass. A half-decade of stolen glances ran through my head. You wanted it over the counter.
She ground back into me, pillow-bitch cheeks and heat circling against the sideways hard length in my skirt.
Ainslet perched at my ear, whispering, "Don't forget, probation..."
I can't... Fine, but I'm not wasting this moment.
My nails trailed to the bottom of her thigh, then dragged back up, her dress's fabric in tow, to the bottom ridge of her butt. In the mirror were a bitten lip, a scrunched, powder-white face, and a head twisting in slow circles.
Her eyes opened, staring reflected into mine as I fingered the edge of her lace thong, finally hooking beneath its damp fabric. A cascade of twitches ran through her back as she said, "You get this once."
We'll see, after I finger-bang you to oblivion.
I was demonically rigid, damning my too-tight panties as the oiled heat of her petals ruffled beneath my digits. The generous flesh of her ass fought the process, getting in the way. With my other hand, I cupped a cheek and spread it wide, sliding up and down across her slit.
"Ser-" Ains pestered, tapping a finger to my shoulder.
Not now.
"Ser..."
I focused on Reilin's eyes, splitting her with two stretched fingers.
"Girls."
Oh fuck me.
A senior classmate in a cerulean skirt suit stood at the door, her fingers thrumming against her side. Midnight-blue hair flanked her unamused expression in two sleek curls like a devil's horns.
I didn't get this close just to... Go for it.
I stretched against Reilin's clenched entrance, sliding into the close-pressed, slick, drenched pleats of her bratty hole. "Nnnh-" She shuddered, hips bucking as I released her.
"Are we done?" she asked, eyes cocked, "You two know what time it is?"
I clasped my hands at my back and bowed. "Are... are we late?" I asked, playing the fool.
Reilin looked as pissed as a wet cat.
Ainset chimed in, "Sanitary products are located in the drawer to your left, and that, ladies, concludes our tour of the fourth-floor's washroom facilities." She was a terrible liar, each word ringing unsure, "Commencement should be starting soon, if you'll excuse us."
"It began twenty-four minutes ago," She pulled a notepad and pen from her jacket's pocket, "Your respective departments will be-"
"Do you have any idea who you're speaking to?" Reilin straightened her dress, shoulders flexing.
"I don't see how that's of any import, though I will need your names..." The pen's cap came off.
"Reilin Durough, daughter of Scintille's lord. You need to understand," her knee wobbled, straightening herself with the sink as a prop, "that if report of any impropriety befalling me within these halls existed, it would prompt thorough investigation of all parties involved, a process that would likely drag on for years, royal investigators leaving no stone unturned. Is that clear?"
The blood drained from my twitching member. I hadn't considered that.
The question was rhetorical. She went on, "You're above reproach, record spotless? You have that kind of time?"
My thoughts turned to Cechele, and the fact that she turned this firebrand into the mess I found in the hall, how she'd somehow taken Reilin's leash. She had real leverage.
Défi de fierté may be a misstep...
"We'll be going now," Reilin said, sidestepping the hall monitor. I grabbed my pack and took off in her wake, rolling her slick between middle finger and thumb.