marlowemuses | Everything I got, I got working for me

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Everything I got, I got working for me

As she rapped her knuckles against the hotel room door and leaned against the door frame, using her 5'11" height to loom, Satoru felt jubilant with success even though this tour hadn't officially started.

It had taken months of planning already, and Satoru itched with impatience. When she'd first announced a joint tour with Suguru, Satoru already had the plan drafted with her own media team, but they'd mentioned nothing to Suguru's team, only sending over the proposal after Satoru had made an informal teaser announcement about it. She'd half expected that Suguru would refuse the dare and call it out as the prank that it absolutely was (at which point Satoru would be able to make a stink about Suguru being a coward and backing out of an agreement). So she'd been thrilled that Suguru had agreed to the tour.

They'd share the stage--there was simply no other reasonable way to do it. Swapping off songs, providing support vocals, even featuring a few duets. It was a highly unusual arrangement, but that had helped to blow up the publicity around the tour, which had sold out within hours, immediately creating clamor to have more dates added and a social media frenzy of fans thrilled or enraged about the situation.

They'd arrived at the hotel and their first show was tomorrow night, but aside from some agreed-upon arrangements and a set list, negotiated and exchanged through their respective teams, they'd done nothing to prepare for performing together. Satoru wasn't worried about it. She knew every one of Suguru's songs. She'd written the arrangements herself that she'd sent over to propose which ones she wanted to cover with support vocals. Even though she'd never been to any of Suguru's shows, she'd seen recordings of them. As much as Satoru wanted to spend the next three months irritating the shit out of Suguru, she also wanted to uncompromisingly create good music and put on an incredible performance that their fans would be talking about for the rest of their lives. And she knew she could rely on Suguru to do the same.

Finally, though, they'd arrived at the same hotel, and finally Satoru could be face to face again with her best enemy.

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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.")

When Satoru grabs her and pushes her against that wall, Suguru is sure she's going to start something. Say something rude and demeaning and try to get under Suguru's skin. She doesn't expect anything that actually happens.

The bite hurts in exactly the way Suguru likes things to hurt, and she moans. She's still running on the energy from the show, arousal high, and she desires Satoru in her very bones, and now? Saoru pressed against her, biting her like that?

She slides fingers into Satoru's hair, yanking her head away from her shoulder, and pulls her in for a messy kiss. There's no tenderness in it, just a rough meeting of lips, frantic with energy and tension and desire. It's everything she's wanted, and nothing like what she wants, better and worse for it.

Something bangs against the door, probably one of their aides, and Suguru jerks back from the kiss. Something vulnerable and tender flashes across her face, and then she looks at Satoru, and pushes her back.

"Don't touch me," she says, trying to wriggle past her to get to the door.

The sound of that moan rumbles through Satoru's mind, soothing and revving it up all at once, convincing the feral animal part of her brain that yes, this is right, this was good.

Suguru's rough hand in her hair draws an incoherent sound of arousal from her, and she yields to it automatically, tipping her head into it and then moaning into Suguru's mouth. She presses harder up against Suguru, hands curling more possessively around Suguru's hips, kissing her back with savage hunger.

Disoriented as she's just as suddenly shoved back, Satoru blinks in confusion. A little of the feral energy recedes, though her conscious mind doesn't yet reassert itself. Suguru disappears through the door, and a moment later some of their band members are entering the hallway, confused to find Satoru just standing there.

Pliant now, Satoru lets herself be herded through to backstage, given water and electrolytes, and then further helped into her dressing room where her accessories are taken from her. Satoru somehow manages to communicate that she needs a minute--or twenty--and shoos them all away so that she can masturbate, fingers sliding up inside of her body as she thinks of the ferocious way that Suguru kissed her, even though it's about three orgasms later and she's limp from the pleasure of it before she starts to wonder what the hell?

She showers and gets dressed in the soft, loose black pants that they've left for her (something far too expensive and fashionable to be called sweatpants, the fabric swishing loosely around her as she walks) and a soft black top (similarly far too expensive and fashionable to be called a 'peasant' top). Satoru's full breasts are too large for her to go braless, but the embroidered detailing on the revealed bra straps makes them look like they're a feature of the outfit. (Satoru's entire wardrobe is designed like this. Even her loungewear is red carpet-ready.) Her shoes are black espadrilles with bows at the toe, completing the impression that she's just been lounging around a villa in Corsica rather than completing an intense stage performance. Then she wanders back out, willing to be herded wherever her aides tell her to go, wherever her manager (Nanami, who had been one of her bandmates in the original group and then ended up lured back after securing a business degree) has decided she should be at the moment.

Suguru lets the energy linger. She knows if she touches herself, she's going to think about Satoru, and she can't do that immediately, with the taste of Satoru on her lips, the feel of her body pressed against hers. It's not even that it would be improper (which was what tormented her when she was a teenager, how improper it was to think about her best friend and her group mate like that, while her fingers were buried inside her and she was going for climax number three) but that it's too close to what she wants and so far from everything, and makes this entire tour messier than what it already is.

She lets her manager talk at her about the show, accepting her notes and when her manager finally leaves, she stands under the shower for a good thirty minutes, letting the water wash away the tension in her bones. She pins her hair up, and dresses in something less slouchy than her typical backstage outfit. She'd opted for cute lounge pants with a flared cut, and a soft cotton shirt in a deep red that slides off one shoulder. The shoulder that Satoru bit, unfortunately, which means when she heads out of her dressing room, the bruise is visible.

When she wanders into the green room, she sees Nanami almost immediately. She hasn't talked to Nanami or Shoko yet, letting her staff deal with her old friends. And now, she's too tired to do anything, so she nods at her former groupmate, avoids looking at Satoru, and finds her own manager.

It's late, and she wants to return to the hotel room and sleep. There's no VIP after party, at least, but there are a few press handshakes they need to do, some soundbites they need to give. Nothing major, but enough to keep her from thinking too deeply about what she did.

Satoru's eyes widen as she sees what Suguru's wearing and the blossoming bruise on her shoulder. It looks brutal, still fresh and deep pink now but inevitably going to darken to black soon. Satoru turns bright red, looking distinctly guilty and even flinching slightly each time someone asks Suguru what happened. She half expects Suguru to sell her out and reveal that Satoru savaged her, and Satoru doesn't think she can actually refute or deny that.

She manages to put on a smile and play her role in front of the press, but she's quiet again in the car back to the hotel, all her initial hyperactive energy drained out of her.

Lying awake in bed, Satoru thinks about the success of the show, but she thinks more about those moments after the show, Suguru's hand gripping her by the hair and hauling her into a kiss, and then the unhappy look on Suguru's face a moment later. Why had any of that happened? Satoru shouldn't have gone feral like that, obviously, but Suguru was much better about self control usually. It was shocking that the energy of the show would have gotten to Suguru to the point where she'd be willing to kiss just anyone like that. No wonder she was upset afterward, then, that she'd kissed her rival and enemy in a moment of folly.

It isn't until the next day, as they're preparing for that night's show, that Satoru realizes they have a new problem. Satoru's been subdued and guilty all day, and Suguru's been avoiding her. It's terrible energy to bring onto the stage, so Satoru has to figure out a solution to that, fast.

Getting Suguru angry seems like the most efficient approach. Suguru performs great when she's angry.

So Satoru strolls up from behind her and claps a heavy hand over Suguru's bruised shoulder, leaning on it as she gets up in Suguru's space. "Hey, who's afraid of the Big Bad Wolf? You've been avoiding me all day, 'Guru. I didn't think you were that easy to rattle you, but it turns out a little bite is all it takes? Guess I'll have to do that more often."

Her tone has a goading sneer in it, eyes cold and mocking.

At four in the morning, when she couldn't sleep between the coursing energy in her body and the restless, pent up desire, Suguru had gotten off, thinking about her former friend and now... what was Satoru to her? She didn't know. Thinking about her on stage, the matching energy, the playfulness and casual demonstrations of sublime talent, the way she shined so brightly. The bite, after, and the way it had made every pleasure point in Suguru light up. It was, perhaps, the best orgasm she'd had in weeks, and she fell into a deep sleep after that.

So, in addition to feeling annoyed at Satoru, and quietly furious, she had guilt to add to that. It meant she did her best to avoid Satoru, although it was inevitable she'd be found. Because of course it was.

The way Satoru leans on her, putting pressure on her shoulder, makes Suguru squirm. Not entirely out of discomfort, either. But it gives her a reason to jerk away, trying to get away from Satoru's firm grip.

"I told you," she says, enunciating carefully, "don't touch me. I know you think you can get away with touching everyone just because it's you, but I have standards." And you don't fit them is heavily implied. She smiles at Satoru, bright and polite, the sort of smile she used on the executives back in the day. "You're worse than a dog. At least they can be trained. How long has it been since we were together? Ten years now, and you're still incapable of controlling yourself." She clicks her tongue in disappointment and pats Satoru's cheek, all condescending sweetness. "If you need it, we can get you a muzzle. I know just where to get one, I've trained girls like you before."

In reality, she hasn't done such a thing. For all the entwining sadism and masochism she enjoys, she doesn't like petplay much, and certainly not muzzling anyone. She wants backtalk and verbal play and has better ways of silencing people. But she doesn't know the extent of Satoru's knowledge of kink, so it's easy enough to do this.

She drops her hand, and looks around. "Now, if you're done being a rabid dog, I wanted to talk about Control."

Satoru's feeling so triumphant, so smug, having successfully needled Suguru out of her sulking and into a fit of glorious fury, the kind of dressing-down that Satoru always enjoyed seeing her dish out (even when it was against herself--she hadn't used to like that, but now that it made up most of her interactions with Suguru, Satoru had developed a taste for it). Until Suguru gets to the end and her entire brain stutters.

I've trained girls like you before.

It isn't even the idea of the muzzle itself--Satoru's pretty sure that was just metaphor. But the rest of the sentiment rings true. Suguru always was good at taking charge. When she said to do something, Satoru did it without thinking. Sometimes the others had needed clarification, and Nanami especially had tended to push back against casual commands, but Satoru almost always understood immediately what Suguru meant, and had learned from experience that Suguru always had the best ideas.

(Until she hadn't.)

It's the thought of a beautiful woman on her knees in front of Suguru, receiving that sweetly patronizing pat to her cheek.

Had she really? What would that be like? Trained them how?

She's just staring at Suguru, who ... maybe had said something? Seemed to expect some sort of response?

Satoru blinks, cheeks flushed. "What?"

Oh. Oh. Suguru watches Satoru's face, the pretty flush, the dazed look, and she knows she has Satoru curious.

When they had been in the group together, Suguru had been the one to step up and take on the mantle of leadership. She'd been the mom of the group, Haibara too much of a puppy and Nanami too moody despite pushing back, and neither Shoko nor Satoru wanting to take charge, for all that Satoru was undeniably the star. She had taken charge, taken care of all of them until she needed help and none of them had been there for her, and she'd known where to dig when she left because they'd all been so open with her. Especially Satoru, before the fame got her, but even after that. Even after everything.

She still knows how to read Satoru.

Maybe not exactly, not fully, but it's there. Something in her words intrigued Satoru, and Suguru will take advantage of that.

Suguru's lips curl into a wicked, wicked grin. She doesn't mention it, and moves on to the actual question she has, but the knowledge is there.

"Contact. The song?" She raises an eyebrow. "The duet. The emotions in it." She frowns, her lips twisting into a pout, and contemplates her words. Despite the annoyance and the dressing down, she is serious about the song, and she doesn't want to set Satoru off, so she picks her next words carefully. She tries to think about what she would have said to Satoru when they were younger. She was kinder then, especially to Satoru. A bitch, but it didn't have the same force, or the same push, and Satoru would rise to it in a vastly different way. "I'm not sure the emotions in it are resonating. Do you want to try to pick up something different, take it from another angle? You were mirroring my emotions, but it doesn't need to be mirrored, despite what the lyrics are doing."

Edited 2025-05-19 14:23 (UTC)

"I know," Satoru agrees, brow furrowing. Suguru had been bringing such nuanced emotion to the song, and Satoru had just been following her lead on it, which sections needed more intensity or softness. Satoru had brought complexity and innovation to the music, understanding instinctively how to best accentuate the emotions already layered into the lyrics. But in terms of how to add emotions in the performance, Satoru's at a loss and she knows it. Especially when she doesn't really understand the song. She could see the possibilities of it, appreciate lyrics and narrative, could feel the resonance of it, but what to ... do with it? Emotionally?

She rubs a hand against the back of her head, sheepish, and then shrugs. They'd workshopped so many aspects of the song yesterday, and this one makes sense as the next priority, but Satoru doesn't have anything to offer. "What do you want me to do?"

"Read— no, listen to the song without thinking of the music or how to improve it," Suguru says. That would resonate more than having her just read the lyrics. "I have a recording of it, if you need." Her manager sent it to last night, and she's listened it a few times already.

"I know the topic is something unusual for you, so I don't expect it to resonate the same way it does for me, but I know you're capable of feeling it when you understand." Once something clicks for her, Satoru had been stunning and capable of depth and greatness, but the emotions just took a different approach and longer lead up time. "I think, emotionally, you should be counterpoint to me; instead of a struggle, you're resolution. And vice versa."

She pulls out her phone to play the song for her.

Satoru frowns with uncertainty about this, unconvinced that listening alone is going to make sense of it for her, but she at least understands the suggestion of being the resolution for Suguru's emotional beats. Call and response, and Satoru's the answer.

Folding her arms, Satoru chews on her lip as she listens. Her mind keeps wanting to focus on the technical aspects of the song, how the harmonies mesh, how they could improve the accompaniment. It's a constant struggle to keep her mind focused on the emotional flow.

When it finishes, Satoru bites down harder on her lip and looks guilty. "I think ... we can amplify that swell in the accompaniment after the break, really let it come surging back--I know, I'm trying." Satoru rubs at her face, sighing with frustration, then flaps her hand at the phone. "I'll keep trying. Send me a copy. I'll go through it a few more times and try to focus."

"You're going for the music, aren't you?" Suguru grins at her, rolling her eyes. It feels like old times. "Slow down. Get out of your head and feel it, don't try to analyze it. I'll send you a copy, but why don't we try an acapella version. Let me sing my portion, so it'll be awkward, but don't jump in yet."

They're in the green room, and other than the occasional aide coming in and setting something up, they're mostly alone. Suguru hums a few bars, then launches into the song, singing only her portion of the lyrics. When Satoru looks like she might try to sing, she lifts a finger to her lips.

She keeps her gaze on Satoru's face, watching to see if anything resonates. She puts in all the emotions she's felt about this song, including the new trepidation and the underlying insecurities that have come up because of this tour. It's the most intimate thing she's done, and when she's done, she looks away from Satoru, trying to hide the vulnerability on her face.

Satoru sits, paying attention and trying to not think about the music and the technical details. Having just Suguru's side of it does help, especially because it's discordant without the harmonies of Satoru's part laid through it. It forces her to just focus on Suguru and what she's bringing to the song.

By the end of it, Satoru has made some sense of the emotional beats, though the conclusion she's come to is probably not the one Suguru was hoping for.

"Okay. Yeah. I think I see the problem." Satoru gives her a bit of a reprimanding glower. “I think the problem is that this song means something to you, so you’re putting actual emotions into it, because you know what it’s about and it’s significant. But I’m not matching you, and you want me to just make some up?” Satoru rolls her eyes. “You’re such a moron. Okay. You wanna tell me the story behind the song now, so I can find something appropriate or, I guess, fake it better?”

Suguru breathes in sharply, pursing her lips and glaring at Satoru. She's partially right— it definitely means something to her, and she's putting actual emotions into it because it's not just a song she thought up on the fly— but the way Satoru approaches it is galling, and really digs under her skin.

"Glad to see you haven't changed, you're still as emotionally stunted as you were when I left. I thought you were smart," she says, icy cold, eyes as frosty as her voice. She's hurt, deep down beneath everything, and annoyed at herself for letting Satoru get beneath her skin, but she won't let Satoru see that, and covers it up with sharp disappointment. "An actress, aren't you? You were in movies. But clearly they just wanted you for your name, and maybe your tits. No wonder why your songs lack substance."

She hastily sends off an email to Satoru, attaching the song, and then turns to leave.

"Bring whatever you want to the song, I don't care. Think whatever story you want about it." She stops and turns to look at Satoru again. Satoru is taller than her by an inch and a half, and better at looming, but Suguru knows how to glare, how to pitch her gaze so even the tallest people around her feel like she's looking down on them. "You aren't as subtle as you think, Gojo. I'm not going to play your stupid games."

She strides off after that, slamming the door after her.

Satoru rolls her eyes at this fit of drama. Clearly she hit a nerve in there somewhere, which isn't surprising. It's been clear this whole time that this song is personal to Suguru, and the song's strength has to do with the emotional conflict at the core of it. An emotional conflict that ... doesn't make much sense to Satoru.

Surely you're either in love with someone or you're not, and you either want to leave them or you don't, right? But Satoru's never been in love with someone romantically, so she doesn't really get it. The closest she ever came was Suguru, and that had always been clear. Suguru was her best friend and Satoru wanted to stay with her forever. Easy. Straightforward.

Suguru wanted to be weird and selfish and leave. Incomprehensible. But she got what she wanted, and now she got to deal with Satoru being annoying to her.

Satoru had liked the suggestion about being the emotional counterpoint. She could do that. So she mulled that over, and put the rest of it out of her mind.

Suguru paces the length of the arena. There's not as much set up that day, since the stage is already done, and so there are fewer people milling about, and Suguru has more of a chance to think. She knows she's playing exactly into Satoru's hands with her fits and leaving, and that's giving Satoru more power in this that Suguru doesn't like. Satoru just makes her so angry sometimes and so emotional. She's one of the few people who have managed that.

When she'd left the group, Suguru had thought she was done with all of it. She was uncompromising in her interviews about the group, talking more about it than she should have, but she thought it would have died down eventually. Except Satoru had always been there, talking about her in interviews, cutting her at industry events. It wasn't that odd, Suguru had been deliberately mean and hurtful to Satoru when she left, but it wasn't like Satoru gave a fuck, so she didn't know why it persisted.

But Satoru had gotten her way, and now Suguru was on a fucking three month long tour with her, and letting her get her way. Suguru wasn't sure what her intent was on that, beyond trying to get the upper hand (of what? why?) and potentially humiliate Suguru (again, why?). But as it was, she wasn't going to survive the tour, if this was how she felt the second day in.

"Ugh," Suguru says aloud, kicking at the path. "Ugh. Fuck you, Satoru."

Luckily, there's no one around to hear her mutter that.

She can't play hooky all day, so she eventually makes her way back to the stage, and the harsh reality of tour life. There's always adjustments to make and discussions to be had that keep everyone busy until showtime.

On stage that night, Satoru sticks with the script and doesn't do any of her little line-stealing pranks. She still makes plenty of jokes and ribs Suguru good-naturedly, but at each time she'd done something the previous night, she lets Suguru just tense in anticipation ... but then nothing happens. Leaving her to anticipate why Satoru's doing this and what she might do instead was its own torment.

She tries the new approach to Contact, playing around with it a little, trying to provide some resolution and counterpoint for Suguru's emotional beats, and she's pleased with that. It still needs more work, but concerts are good for that. Relying upon the live energy in order to create something powerful.

As they leave the stage afterward, Satoru's not quite as hyped up as she was the night before. They've both been in a weird mood, not at their full energy. It's been a good show, but Satoru's not as feral. Still immensely horny, but more or less in control of herself.

But when they reach that short hallway, Satoru thinks about Suguru's ... promise? Threat? It wasn't quite either. All Suguru had really said was don't touch me, but there was an implication in there, with her talk about training girls like Satoru. Touch me and I'll make you behave.

It's unbelievably tempting.

Satoru reaches out and grabs her by the hair, yanking her back as she steps forward so that her chest presses against Suguru's spine. Her other arm slips around Suguru's waist to hold her in place there. "Do your worst," Satoru purrs, all incendiary challenge, before she dips her head and bites Suguru's other shoulder. She only holds for a second and then lets go, freeing Suguru to, well. Do her worst.

The energy is definitely not there, and that's the concerning thing about the show. They've sold out all of their performances, they can't back out of the contracts now, so they have to make it work.

Satoru clearly isn't going to rise to any of her verbal lashings, and Suguru is completely thrown off by her shifting attitude on stage. It won't do. Since she left the group, Suguru's been in control: of her music, of her appearances, of her shows, of her life. Satoru has always been the one person to throw her off so badly, and Suguru is aware that she's been handing her too much control these past few days. Letting Satoru get under her skin, which is just what she wants.

For all Suguru knows, Satoru has no idea what she's asking for when she says "Do your worst" because Suguru hasn't kept up with the details of Satoru's intimate personal life, just the postings about her dates and flings. She doesn't know what Satoru knows about this, doesn't know if Satoru understands what sort of challenge she's thrown down. Suguru wasn't lying when she said she'd trained girls like her, spoiled brats who just needed a little guidance. They had been aware, at least.

She grapples with what to do for a split second, but it feels like an eternity in her mind. She'll just be giving Satoru exactly what she wants, even if Satoru doesn't realize it— although it feels like Satoru does understand some of it. Knows she's asking for something. She doesn't want to give into Satoru, but Suguru has always been weak for her. It was why she had to leave in such a blaze, else Satoru would have come after her and asked her to come back, and Suguru would have folded.

But this is perhaps the only thing that will ruffle Satoru the same way she's ruffled Suguru.

When her arm drops, Suguru grabs it and spins around, using her leverage to push Satoru back against the wall. In contrast to Satoru's bare skin— her legs and midriff all on display— Suguru is mostly covered, except for her shoulders and arms, and her heeled boots give her extra height so she's eye to eye with Satoru.

"I told you not to touch me," she says, and slides a hand into Satoru's hair, pulling hard. It yanks her head back, her neck on display. "Can't even listen to basic instructions. Going around biting people. Did no one teach you manners?" Suguru had tried, years ago. It hadn't worked. "You need to be taken over my knee and spanked like the naughty brat you are."

She smirks and leans in, nuzzling her nose against Satoru's pulse point. She doesn't kiss her, or bite, just swipes her tongue over the spot, laughing meanly when she feels how her pulse is racing. She presses against Satoru, breasts pressing against Satoru's, and slides a knee between her legs, pressing up against her crotch and rubbing.

"I'm not so uncultured as to leave a mark where anyone can see it, especially when you don't deserve that." A mark, from her? That's a treat Satoru won't get to enjoy. "You're all bark, Satoru. Do you even know what you're asking for?" She lets go of her hair, and lifts her head, patting Satoru's cheek condescendingly. "Open your door when I knock later and maybe I'll show you."

She trails her hand down Satoru's body, over the cleavage revealed by her top, down her exposed stomach, and stops at the waist of her hot pants.

"But then, you are a fool, so I won't be surprised if you don't."

She smiles sweetly and kisses her cheek, leaving behind a lipstick print, and strides off, out of the hallway and into the waiting arms of her manager and aides, ready to shower.

Satoru gives a tiny groan as Suguru wrenches her head back like that, a tight hand in her hair, and then Suguru's sealed tight against her, bodies pressed together, with a knee between Satoru's legs. Suguru comes on to her so intensely in those few moments, leaving Satoru quivering up against that wall, and it's not much of a reprimand. It's all temptation. Seduction. Promise.

When their bandmates come around the corner, always half a minute slower because they have to deal with instruments in one way or another, Satoru looks like she's just taken a moment of breather in the dark, which is easy enough to excuse.

She continues on with the rest of them, accepting her usual water and candy and letting her aides take care of her. But her mind is on Suguru.

This whole tour so far (all two and a half days of it), Suguru has been using her sexuality to ruffle Satoru. Maybe partly beause it works, better than the insults alone did. But there have also been those little flashes of raw vulnerability. It doesn't make sense. Suguru ... wants her? That's easy enough to understand. Lots of people lust after Satoru. But why the weird vulnerability? Maybe Suguru had an ex who left her a bit traumatized. That makes sense. She's skittish about getting back into sexual things, and that's part of why she's coming on to Satoru, who is safely(?) unobtainable.

Satoru chomps candy as she processes through this, letting her aides herd her to her dressing room and help with the after-show stuff. She dismisses them quickly enough, wanting to shower, and the shower is an opportunity to slide her fingers down between her legs, summoning up the feeling of Suguru's body pressed against her own and Suguru's tongue on her throat.

Why is Satoru goading her, then? Some of the same reasons as ever: spite, wanting Suguru's attention, chaotic mischief just needing an outlet. But Satoru very intentionally leaned on the lust angle tonight, challenging her to bring more of that. Why? She wants Suguru?

... That makes sense, actually. Satoru's taste in partners has always been collaborators, and Suguru's always been the best collaborator. Satoru hadn't really thought about her that way before, but now it's impossible not to think of her in a sexual light. And she is gorgeous, so it's not that much of a stretch.

Satoru has the completely absurd thought that she can't lust after Suguru, it might damage their friendship.

...

So since that's not a problem, why not embrace the intense charge of fucking her enemy and rival? It'll probably work well for their music, even though it's unlikely to make the tour any more peaceful and harmonious.

After her responsibilities for the night are completed, Satoru heads back to the hotel. Suguru promised (threatened?) to knock at her door tonight, so Satoru considers her wardrobe accordingly. Lacy panties, cute bra, both in white with tiny blue bows at the front. Extremely sexy, as lingerie goes, but also reasonably excusable as just her normal undergarments (aggressively fashionable as she is). But she doesn't put on anything over that, so that when she answers the door it's in just the pretty white lingerie set. She pulls the door open casually, as if she'd open the door the same way for a room service delivery. Could be anyone, who cares if they see her mostly-naked?

This is a stupid idea. Suguru wars with it as she takes the short elevator ride up to Satoru's floor and then walks down the hall to her room. It's only going to fuck everything up, make this even messier.

But, she rationalizes, she doesn't love Satoru anymore, not like she did when she'd been young and so in her orbit. Sure, there's maybe some affection for her, but it's not love. Admiration, annoyance, mild affection. Appreciation, maybe.

This will let her work out some of her frustration and get a taste of Satoru, let her control her frustrations, and then the three months will be over and she'll never have to think about Satoru again. She's never fallen for any of the women she's done any of this with before; for all that she likes handling these sorts of bratty women, she wants a partner, not just a playmate. Satoru doesn't care about her, and Satoru can't offer her that, and Suguru isn't going to do something stupid like fall in love with her ex-best friend.

It's with that resolve that Suguru stops in front of Satoru's door and knocks. She's dressed in a silky black robe that sweeps the floor with soft flats on her feet. Her hair is down, falling in loose waves to her waist. No one would blink at her wardrobe, and she'd even been prepared with a story should someone ask anything, but she didn't encounter anyone in the halls, and Satoru is fairly prompt with opening the door.

Suguru looks her over, giving her a flat look. "And if I had been some creep sneaking into the hotel?" she asks, immediately moving into Satoru's space and pushing past her. "Oh, wait. You don't care about that."

She doesn't wait for Satoru to say anything, or officially welcome her into the room. Instead, she shrugs off her robe, folding it over the back of a chair, and sitting down on the sofa she has. Beneath the robe, she was wearing the sexist things she could put together from her tour wardrobe: a black bra with straps crossing over her cleavage, silky black panties and a garter belt and stockings, with a sheer nightie over those. (She values comfort more than anything for the downtime on her tours, and she hadn't thought to bring any of her usual club gear.)

"Come here," she says, leaning back, crossing her legs. Then she smirks, and points to the floor. "Crawl."

She knows Satoru won't do that, but she wants to see her react to that challenge.

Satoru pushes the door shut and admires Suguru's lingerie getup as Suguru chooses a spot in the room to stake her claim.

"Does that usually work for you?" Satoru asks, with an amused smirk. She's tempted to hang back, act disaffected, but she decides she'd rather push back. Strolling to stand behind Suguru instead, Satoru leans over the back of the couch, curling a light hand beneath Suguru's chin to tilt her neck back, while her other hand falls to Suguru's shoulder, over one of the bite marks.

If she gets that far, then she'll bend forward to kiss Suguru--upside-down, but with perhaps surprising sweetness.

"It does, actually," Suguru reassures her with a smile. "You think there aren't women willing to listen to get a taste of me?" She scoffs; that's unbelievable.

She tilts her head back when Satoru looms over her, letting Satoru guide her head for the moment. "But I like it when they fight back and resist. Makes it enjoyable when they finally fold."

Before Satoru can kiss her, Suguru curls her hand around Satoru's, and yanks without warning, attempting to pull her over the back of the couch. She wants, and aims for, Satoru to land in her lap, but she doesn't much care if she ends up on the floor. All that's important is Satoru not looming over her, and Satoru's hands off her.

"You don't get to decide you want a kiss and take it, Satoru. Learn to ask."

"I suppose there are always women so desperate for a taste of fame that they'll crawl for it," Satoru sighs, rolling her eyes dramatically. Satoru drops her weight rather than following the momentum, so she ends up draped over Suguru's shoulder like an oversized cat, feet still on the floor.

"Hm. No." Satoru straightens up, primly retracting her hand, and decides to resume her initial plan of seeming disaffected. She goes to the bed and drapes lazily across it, leaning back on her elbows, not bothering with any particular grace. "What else have you got, Suguru? You talked such a big game. Did these 'brats' of yours actually resist or is it just that you've only ever been able to lure the weak-willed?"

"People who know what they want aren't weak-willed, Satoru. They know when to resist and when giving in matters. You know, how you resist says so much about you."

Much like the lack of crawling, the way she retreats to her bed isn't a surprise to Suguru. Most of this is testing what Satoru will do, how she'd react. So far, she seemed to react to Suguru getting in her space and physical touch. Suguru's preferences don't run to force, but it seems like Satoru, in so many ways, is her exception to every rule.

"I slept with—," she says, then stops, and shakes her head with a quirk of her lips. "Never mind." Satoru doesn't need to know anything about her sex life; it's better that she keep this distant, impersonal. Talking would just give into to her goading.

Of everything that happened with the group, losing Satoru's friendship had been the worst. She could have dealt with it if Satoru didn't return her romantic feelings, but leaving the way she did also meant losing her best friend, the person she would have gossiped about that.

She reaches for her robe, and pulls out a pair of black leather gloves. She pulls them on, flexing her fingers in them, and strolls towards the bed. She reaches for Satoru's ankle, slowly curling her fingers around it, and then yanks, just to throw her off-balance. She immediately crawls on the bed, straddling Satoru's hips. She drops her weight on Satoru, ready to wrestle her back down the moment she tries to rise.

"You really should be put over my knee and spanked."

Edited 2025-05-21 22:11 (UTC)

Satoru’s startled by being tugged like that, but at least she doesn’t go far before Suguru climbs atop her. Satoru doesn’t resist, resting her hands lightly on Suguru’s thighs instead, watching her with wary eyes. “Seems like the wrong position for that,” she points out, but it’s a little more subdued now. Suguru being in her space works for her, because it makes clear that Suguru wants to be there. At any moment she might leave again, walk right out of Satoru’s life, and Satoru can’t bear to chase her if it just means having her pride crushed.

This Suguru seems so different. There hadn’t been any hint of this side of her, and Satoru wonders if this had always been the real Suguru. Maybe her best friend had always been an illusion, and she’d never known Suguru at all.

And now? Satoru’s going to trust herself to this stranger? She doubts herself for allowing this at all. Suguru’s only going to treat her like she’s disposable.

Swallowing hard as she tries to shake off those feelings, Satoru reaches for one of Suguru’s wrists. “Do these have a purpose, or are they just part of the spectacle?”

It reveals her ignorance, but that doesn’t matter. Satoru wants to know. Is there a reason for the leather gloves?

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