“Are you sure about this?” Blake murmurs the question against Yang’s lips, and Yang has to pull away to clear her head enough to answer.
“Yeah, just— y’know, nervous.”
“Do you want to stop?” Blake asks, and Yang is quick to shake her head.
“No, no, but I— I’ve never done this before, and I don’t want to be bad at it.”
“Yang,” Blake says calmly. “If I’m with you, I don’t see how it could possibly be bad.”
Yang is silent for a moment as she processes the weight of those words—the depth of what Blake is saying—and then she takes a deep breath, letting her anxiety fade away with the reassurance that her partner wants this as much as she does. She kisses Blake again, and the faint noise of approval she’s rewarded with tells her it was the right move. Eventually they reluctantly separate for air, and Yang swallows hard as Blake pulls her shirt over her head.
Her partner is absolutely gorgeous, smooth skin marked only by the occasional scar that speaks of her unrelenting bravery, lean muscle from years of combat training and fighting to survive, and what Yang has always been drawn to most— her eyes, warm and golden, burning with everything that makes her who she is. Then Yang’s gaze drifts to Blake’s hair, the way it frames her face so perfectly now, emphasising the line of her jaw and only making her more unfairly attractive.
Yang’s heart suddenly feels like it’s beating a lot faster in her chest, and she tries not to focus on the fact that Blake isn’t wearing a bra since they were just relaxing in their pyjamas, sure that if she does her brain will actually stop working. Her hands are shaking, both with a more pleasant kind of nerves and the urge to touch, but she freezes when Blake’s hands slip under the hem of her shirt and start to inch it upwards.
Her partner stops immediately, brow furrowing in concern. “Do you want to keep this on?”
“You can— You can take it off,” Yang says, pleased that her voice only wavers slightly. “It’s fine.”
But Blake withdraws her hands, sitting back on her haunches to give Yang a little more space. “You don’t sound like it’s fine.” Blake sighs. “You can tell me if I do something wrong, Yang.”
“I know,” Yang promises. “And you didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just a bit— weird about people seeing me naked.”
“It makes you uncomfortable?”
“Not exactly.” Yang pauses, trying to work out how to phrase it in her head. “But people tend to just see me either as an angry wall of muscle or a dumb blonde who’s only good for parties and not look beyond that. They’ll compliment how much I can bench, or offer to buy me a drink sometime, or joke about my eyes turning red, but never anything else. So I— I guess I’ve sort of got used to people seeing me without really seeing me, y’know? And so I learned not to like it when people paid attention to my body, because then that was all they’d pay attention to.” She trails off awkwardly. “Am I making any sense?”
“You’re making perfect sense to me,” Blake says, expression achingly sad. “Adam used to ignore things about me all the time. If I wanted to find more time to read, or to fight a slightly different way, or to dress in clothes that he didn’t like, then he would find a way to make it insignificant— unimportant. Until I believed him and stopped trying to be myself. So I understand how it feels to have someone only see parts of you.”
Yang’s about to reply, but Blake takes her hand, lacing their fingers together as she continues talking.
“But you see all of me, and I see all of you, Yang. I see that you’re strong but you’re also smart, that you’re a ferocious fighter but you’re also unbelievably soft-hearted, that you’re a thrill-seeker but you’re also far more mature than anyone gives you credit for— I fell in love with you because of all of it.”
Yang is speechless for a moment, unable to think of any words she can say that will match what her partner has just given to her, and what finally comes out is, “I love you too, and I want you to take my shirt off.”
She feels her face heat up with a furious blush as she realises she said that out loud, embarrassment washing over her, but Blake simply laughs, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “Luckily I think I can help with that.”
Her partner slowly tugs the Atlas pyjama top over her head, and this time Yang doesn’t feel the same apprehension that she did before. Blake sees her, Blake knows her, Blake loves her— Yang trusts her unconditionally, and she has nothing to hide here. Her partner tosses the shirt onto the floor before shifting closer to kiss her, and Yang embraces her eagerly, tugging her forward more firmly into her lap.
Blake giggles at the abrupt surge of confidence, breaking the kiss in her amusement, and Yang pouts at her. That wasn’t quite the swept-off-her-feet response she was looking for. But Blake leans in to press a soft kiss to the tip of her nose, quelling her mild disappointment instantly, “Sorry, but it’s just so cute how much you want me. How keen you are.” Her voice pitches just a little lower, and she rolls her hips into Yang’s, thickening the air with tension again in one smooth motion. “It’s really h-hot too, though.”
The slight tremor in Blake’s words is the first sign of nervousness from her so far, and Yang realises that her partner is just as out of her depth here as she is herself— Blake is just better at hiding it. It’s a comforting thought—that they’re in this together, both figuring things out as they go—and she settles her hands on Blake’s hips, encouraging her to take the friction she wants.
Blake gives another testing thrust of her hips, trying to find the right angle for both of them, and when she does she sets a steady rhythm, eyes closing and head tilting back slightly as she loses herself in the pleasure she’s feeling. Yang takes the opportunity to press even closer, trailing open-mouthed kisses over the sensitive skin of her partner’s throat and drawing a moan from Blake’s chest.
It doesn’t take long before she’s past the point of self-control as well, and she pulls Blake flush against her, burying her face in her partner’s neck as she hovers on the edge of bliss, the ragged sound of their breathing the only thing she can hear over the rush of blood in her ears. There’s no longer any grace in the way they move together, just the pure urgent desperation of needing to be closer still— to share this together.
Blake finds release first, shuddering in her arms as the waves of ecstasy wash over her, and it’s all too much— Yang’s wanted this for so long, and now her partner is panting in her lap as she comes down from her high. She follows Blake only a minute later, her partner’s name on her lips as she reaches her climax, and it’s overwhelming because she never thought they’d ever get to be here together.
They stay like that for several minutes, just existing with each other and basking in what they just did, and then Yang sits back to look into Blake’s eyes.
“I love you,” Blake murmurs, quiet and reverent. “I love you.” She kisses Yang, slow but firm, and Yang lets herself be guided back against the mattress as Blake moves to hover over her. “I want to show you how much. Is that okay, sweetheart?”
Yang was melting even before the term of endearment slipped out—as much of a surprise to Blake as it is to her based on the way her partner’s eyes widen slightly—and all she can do is nod with a breathy, “Please.”
With permission given, Blake kisses a path down to her chest, cupping her breasts and teasing her relentlessly as her lips chart every inch of the valley between them but never quite go where Yang wants them most. It’s only when she’s whining in frustration that Blake shows mercy, taking a nipple into her mouth at last and sending pleasure shooting through Yang’s veins at the softness of Blake’s tongue on her sensitive skin.
Yang gasps, curling her fingers cautiously in Blake’s hair—an anchor to ground herself rather than an attempt to guide her partner—and Blake lets out a quiet hum of contentment as she switches sides to make sure neither is left neglected. Yang’s never really cared either way about the size of her chest, but Blake seems to like it, and she never realised just how strong a reaction this type of attention from her partner would evoke.
Blake finally moves on, kissing down towards Yang’s navel, and it feels like she’s made it her mission to worship every inch of Yang’s body— to lavish affection on every single part of her with no exceptions. Each touch, each kiss, feels like a promise, and Yang understands what her partner is trying to tell her without needing words. Blake isn’t just making a vow to stay, she’s making a vow that Yang can trust her with everything—with every layer of who she is—and that Blake will cherish all of it.
“You’re so beautiful.” Blake imprints the words onto her skin—onto her soul—and Yang can’t argue when her partner sounds so sincere. “I want you so badly.”
Yang spreads her legs in encouragement, and Blake lowers her hands to grip her thighs. Her hold is just unyielding enough to keep Yang bared, open wide for her to do as she wishes, and a shiver runs down Yang’s spine at the intoxicating feeling of giving up control. The first stroke of Blake’s tongue has her back arching, and she— gods, she didn’t know anything could feel this good.
Blake works her up gradually, with slow, almost languid licks that provide pressure everywhere except where it’s truly needed, and Yang lets go of her partner’s hair to fist the sheets instead, worried that she’ll forget the strength of her prosthetic and hurt her if she leaves her hands where they are. Her thighs are trembling with the effort of holding back, and she feels both painfully close to her orgasm and so horribly far away at the same time.
But less than a minute later Blake finally focusses on her clit—short, sharp flicks of her tongue that stay just on the right side of overstimulation—and Yang falls apart. It’s loud and messy, she’s pretty sure that the her cry of Blake’s name is loud enough to hear outside of the dorms and the sheets definitely tear as she grips then even tighter. She can’t care, though— not when it’s Blake who’s made her feel this way.
“I love you,” she pants over and over as the aftershocks flood her body with bliss, needing to say it again— for Blake to know just how much she means it.
Blake pulls away and moves back up so that they’re face to face, a proud smile on her lips. “I love you too.”
As Yang pulls her down for another kiss, she can hardly remember why she ever felt nervous about letting Blake see everything in the first place. After all, her partner will still be here for her no matter what— that, she knows with certainty.