Satoru's buzzing with energy by the end of the show. She always gets worked up on stage, the high of it better than any drug. (She'd tried some drugs, back in her teens, and hated it. Her emotions were already too much, most of the time, and her energy was already so high, that uppers only made her paranoid and manic, and downers--including alcohol--numbed her brain and made her illogical in a way that she hated. It had been the one way in which Satoru had been the boring one: she had been vigilantly sober after needing only a very tiny handful of experiences to convince her that no, the first miserable experience had not been a fluke.)
But this, a challenge like she's never had before, the energy and skill that Suguru brings, the intensity of performing with her. It's so many of the best parts of performing with Suguru from back then, and this time--finally--it's their music, their creative freedom.
Satoru's so wet by the end of it, she's genuinely worried she's going to start soaking through her tight little hot pants. Her skin is tingling and she's so worked up that she's pretty sure she's going to go masturbate for a couple of hours before she can get even half of this out of her system. As the two of them stumble backstage after the show, Satoru feels feral, barely human, and she only just keeps that cheery onstage persona up until the darkness of the hallway closes around them. There's only the turn of a corner and a few steps in that little access hallway to keep the bright light of backstage separated from the carefully crafted environment of the stage. On the other side of that door, they'll be swamped by aides offering water, candy, a change of clothes, everything that Satoru needs after a concert. But she can't even make it that far.
As soon as they're around the curve of the curtain wall separating them from the stage, Satoru shoves Suguru up against the wall, crowding into her space with a growl that turns into a whine at the end. She's quivering with energy and overstimulation, and there's not a single logical thought in her mind as she drops her head to Suguru's shoulder and bites.
It's not enough to break skin, but Satoru's too hyped up to restrain herself, and there's absolutely going to be a huge and vivid bruise there later for Suguru to explain away. ("Yeah, my co-star assaulted me like a feral raccoon.")
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But this, a challenge like she's never had before, the energy and skill that Suguru brings, the intensity of performing with her. It's so many of the best parts of performing with Suguru from back then, and this time--finally--it's their music, their creative freedom.
Satoru's so wet by the end of it, she's genuinely worried she's going to start soaking through her tight little hot pants. Her skin is tingling and she's so worked up that she's pretty sure she's going to go masturbate for a couple of hours before she can get even half of this out of her system. As the two of them stumble backstage after the show, Satoru feels feral, barely human, and she only just keeps that cheery onstage persona up until the darkness of the hallway closes around them. There's only the turn of a corner and a few steps in that little access hallway to keep the bright light of backstage separated from the carefully crafted environment of the stage. On the other side of that door, they'll be swamped by aides offering water, candy, a change of clothes, everything that Satoru needs after a concert. But she can't even make it that far.
As soon as they're around the curve of the curtain wall separating them from the stage, Satoru shoves Suguru up against the wall, crowding into her space with a growl that turns into a whine at the end. She's quivering with energy and overstimulation, and there's not a single logical thought in her mind as she drops her head to Suguru's shoulder and bites.
It's not enough to break skin, but Satoru's too hyped up to restrain herself, and there's absolutely going to be a huge and vivid bruise there later for Suguru to explain away. ("Yeah, my co-star assaulted me like a feral raccoon.")