Sunset ^beta

Wave spends a few days devising ways to get past the security—although if she's being honest with herself, it's actually been months. Years, even. Really, she's been trying to find a way into Rouge's apartment since the first time the bat stole something from right under the Babylon Rogues' noses.

Literally. Watching Rouge snatch a priceless relic Wave was actively reaching for and then get away is not an experience she's likely to forget any time soon.

So after Rouge steals their mark for what by now must be at least the tenth time, Wave turns her focus to finding a way into the bat's apartment to get back what's rightfully hers.

After four days, Wave is pretty sure she has it figured out. She rides her extreme gear onto the balcony of Rouge's apartment—a penthouse suite in a modern high rise—disables the alarm and the backup alarm, disarms the trap on the balcony door and disengages the lock so she can slide it open. She makes it two steps into the apartment—just enough to think she's in the clear—before an alarm starts blaring.

Iron manacles close around Wave's wrists. She's dragged backwards until her back is against the wall next to the glass balcony door. No matter how much she struggles, she can't move.

The alarm shuts off; Wave is left alone in the quiet dark.

Several minutes pass—long enough that Wave starts to worry Rouge is out on some heist or mission, that she'll be stuck here for who knows how long until the bat comes back—

A light flicks on, warm but not especially bright. Wave's eyes still have to adjust; she squints in that direction until she's finally able to make out Rouge, leaning casually against the frame of an open door as she looks Wave up and down.

"Hm." She pulls her robe—pink, satin, definitely expensive—onto her shoulder, only for it to slide right back down again. A truly indecent amount of cleavage is exposed, made all the more apparent by Rouge crossing her arms beneath her breasts, pushing them up. "What happened to your entourage?"

"This was a solo op," Wave says. She tries not to stare at Rouge's cleavage—but diverting her eyes only reveals more dangerous territory. The robe draped over Rouge's wide hips is indecently short, revealing plush thighs and long legs. She's not wearing shoes or gloves; Wave can see her nails, short but impeccably manicured. Even meeting Rouge's eyes is a challenge; they're half-lidded but intense. Seductive.

There isn't really a safe place to look. Wave settles her eyes on a random stretch of wall next to Rouge's head.

"Makes sense," Rouge says. She pushes off the doorjamb, sways her hips as she walks towards where Wave is restrained. "Breaking into a place like this—it's not like your usual scores. It requires a little more…" She stops directly in front of Wave, close enough that she can't look anywhere else but at the bat. Her lips curl into a smile. "Finesse."

Wave grinds her beak. "I'm plenty capable of finesse."

"Agreed," Rouge says, easy as anything. "You are. Tweedledum and tweedledumber on the other hand…" She makes a vague motion with her hand. "You know, this is why I keep beating you to the punch. Because those two wouldn't know subtlety if it bit them in the ass."

"Says the woman who regularly blows doors off hinges," Wave snaps. "Not exactly subtle, either."

Rouge doesn't seem bothered by the observation in the slightest. She tuts, waggling a finger from side to side like Wave is a naughty child. "Time and place, darling. I use explosives when it's needed, but I have plenty of other methods at my disposal. How do you think I got my hands on that lovely vase?"

Wave feels her feathers puff up in anger. "You mean when you totally stole our mark?"

"Yup." Rouge smiles, not a hint of guilt or even embarrassment to be seen.

"Do you have any idea how long it took me to develop the tech needed to get past security?" It's not entirely for nothing—why get rid of perfectly good tech that could be useful in the future?—but it still stings that she didn't get to use it for its intended purpose.

"Maybe if you relied a little bit less on your tech and a little more on technique, you wouldn't be in this situation."

Wave scoffs. "What, like you?"

"Exactly." Rouge steps even closer, into Wave's personal space. She places a finger on her midriff, right below the hem of her top, and drags it slowly downwards. "I could teach you a thing or two, if you'd like."

Wave stares at the finger toying with the waistline of her pants, incredulous. "Are you seriously trying to coerce me into having sex with you?"

Rouge laughs airily and pulls her hand away. "Oh, honey. No."

"So you're not going to call the cops if I say no?"

Rouge tuts. "Come now. Do you really think I want police swarming around my apartment?"

Fair enough. Considering Rouge's lifestyle, she probably has more to lose than to gain from calling the cops. Even so—

"Then why haven't you released me yet?"

Rouge sighs dramatically and walks further into the room. Wave does her best not to look at the sway of her hips as she goes, but when the bat stops at a mahogany coffee table and bends at the waist to pick up a remote she can't help the way her eyes stray.

It looks like a remote for the TV, but when Rouge presses a string of buttons Wave couldn't hope to replicate without seeing it at least two more times, the shackles keeping her restrained are released. Wave steps forward uncertainly, rubbing at her wrists.

"So, what? You're just going to let me go?"

Rouge gestures at the balcony door. "If you want to, be my guest. But since you came all this way, I figured it would be a shame to leave empty handed."

Wave smirks. "Are you calling yourself a consolation prize?"

"Hardly," Rouge drawls. She throws the remote on the coffee table with casual disregard for how expensive both items likely are, then places a hand on her cocked hip. "My time is much more valuable than that vase you came here for. More importantly, it's only on offer for a limited time."

Wave looks at her. Skips her eyes around the room. Looks at the balcony door. Hesitates.

Rouge sighs. She walks around the coffee table and drops herself into a graceful lounge on the couch. "Last chance, darling. Next time we meet, I'll keep things strictly professional."

Wave drags her eyes down the length of the bat's body, lingering on her half-lidded eyes, her cleavage, the curve of her hip. The sensible part of her is yelling at her to get out while you still can—but another, louder part of her is begging to give in.

She looks at the door for one last lingering moment, then sighs and walks over to Rouge.

"Not a word about this to anyone," she warns.

Rouge smiles as she watches her approach, smug like there was never a doubt in her mind what choice Wave would make. "Most people want the opposite, you know? I'm the kind of girl people like to brag about."

Wave rolls her eyes. "We'll see about that."

Rouge sits up properly just before Wave comes to a stop in front of her. She grabs Wave by the hips and tugs her closer, parts her legs for Wave to stand between.

The expected retort doesn't come. Rouge massages Wave's hip bones with her thumbs in silence; only when she moves her hands up to Wave's bare waist does she speak up. "I'm wondering about kissing."

Wave smirks. "It's this thing people do with their lips—"

Rouge swats her. "Kissing you. Can you even feel anything with that beak of yours?"

"Wow." Wave raises an eyebrow. "Is there a more offensive way you could have phrased that?"

Rouge laughs, light and airy. "Just trying to figure out how to make you feel good."

A simple statement, said casually—but it still sends a shiver of anticipation down Wave's spine. It's the promise of feeling good that has her going along when Rouge tugs her even closer, has her toeing her boots off and climbing onto the couch to straddle the bat's thighs, hands on her shoulders.

Rouge slides a hand around to Wave's back and pulls her closer. Their torsos aren't touching quite yet, but every time the bat breathes in, they come close enough that Wave can feel the air shift with the tantalizing almost of it.

"So?"

Wave blinks. She lifts her gaze from Rouge's cleavage to her face and asks, "What?"

Rouge sighs. "Kissing. Yes or no?"

Wave shoots her a look. Rouge looks right back, not an ounce of shame to be found in her expression. After several seconds, Wave looks away first. "Not on the beak." It's not bad, but unfortunately Rouge's assumption is correct—there's not much feeling there.

Rouge leans forward, close enough now for her breasts to press against Wave's own. Her robe brushes against Wave's stomach, the fabric luxurious and soft.

"So not on the beak is okay?" Rouge doesn't wait for an answer before pressing a kiss against Wave's jaw, open-mouthed and wet.

Wave's breath trembles on the way out. The touch is tiny, barely anything; it really shouldn't be affecting her this much—and yet she feels wound up already, every muscle taut like a bowstring, every nerve alight.

Rouge laughs, her breath warm between Wave's feathers. "That's a yes, then."

She doesn't give Wave time to respond before kissing her again, slightly farther down her neck. Wave shivers, fingers digging into the flesh of Rouge's shoulders when the bat drags her teeth over her skin. Rouge's hands move, dancing lightly across her ribs and stomach. It tickles a little; Wave's muscles jump under the touch, but she doesn't pull away. If anything, something about the unpredictability of it feels weirdly good.

Rouge drags her mouth down Wave's neck slowly, kissing and licking as she goes. Wave's head tips back on instinct; she leans forward slightly, presses herself just a tad harder against Rouge's lips. She feels the bat smirk at that, her lips curving against the hollow of Wave's throat.

Her hands move further down, the touch firmer as she roams across Wave's hips. She mouths at Wave's clavicle, then bites down. At the same time, she slides one of her hands down to cup her crotch. Wave moans, bucking into the touch.

Rouge leans back, licking at her fangs. "You're very responsive. Pent up?"

Wave isn't often afforded the privacy necessary for sex. It's been months since she last got laid, not much more recent since the last time she took care of business on her own. So, yes, she's more than a little pent up.

But she's not going to tell Rouge that.

"None of your business." She raises an eyebrow, trying to look imperious and unimpressed in spite of the way Rouge is softly petting her through her pants. "You don't hear me asking how often you've had sex recently."

Rouge laughs, leaning forward to bury the sound in the crook of Wave's neck. "I'll take that as a yes, too."

Wave shivers at the feeling of the words being murmured into her skin. She makes to respond, but all that comes out is a groan as Rouge digs her teeth into her skin again. The hand not on Wave's pants cups her breast, massaging gently. Wave arches into the touch, whines when Rouge grind the heel of her hand against her clothed cunt.

"I don't mind," Rouge says, pulling away enough for her lips to just barely brush Wave's feathers. "I like my girls a little desperate."

"I'm not—" Wave clamps her beak shut to suppress another moan when Rouge bites her throat again, then sucks the skin into her mouth. She nearly forgets what she was trying to say, just barely manages to gather her with about her to gasp out, "I'm not desperate."

Rouge doesn't respond verbally, but Wave can feel the puff of air as she huffs out a laugh through her nose. She continues sucking a bruise into Wave's neck as she moves the hand on her crotch up to her stomach again, then right back down to wiggle it into her pants instead.

Her fingers come into contact with Wave's cunt, two of them pressing gently against her wet folds. Wave bows forward at the feeling of it, fingers digging into Rouge's shoulders again. She slides her knees wider so she can lower her body, seeking more contact, more pressure—

Rouge's hands stop moving. She pulls her mouth away, leaning back against the couch cushions. Wave has to raise her head to look at her face; when she does, she can see the bat is frowning.

"Hm." Rouge purses her lips. "I won't lie, that's a little disappointing."

Wave looks down at where Rouge's hand disappears into her pants. Back up. Too bewildered to be offended, she asks, "My vagina?"

Rouge shrugs a single shoulder. "I kind of thought you might have a cloaca."

"And you… wanted that?" Most girls don't; Wave has been rejected before by somebody who assumed she had a cloaca. She could probably have changed her mind if she'd told her the truth—but why bother? Anybody who rejects her purely on the basis of her genitalia isn't worth her time.

"What can I say? I like a little variety." Rouge takes her hand from Wave's breast to smooth it down her side instead. She tilts her head down, but not so much that Wave can't still see her grin. "Y'know, Knuckles' penis has four—"

Wave smacks her on the shoulder. "Can you not talk about your boyfriend when we're about to have sex?"

Rouge pulls her hand from Wave's pants with a sigh. Wave twitches at the drag of her fingers through her folds, but manages not to react in any other obvious ways. "Knuckles isn't my boyfriend."

Wave raises an eyebrow. "Does he know that?"

Rouge laughs, light and airy. "You should ask Sonic that question. He'll get a kick out of it."

"Why?" Wave asks, a second before she realizes. "Oh. Wait, really?"

"Yep." Rouge laughs again. "From the sound of it, Blue's speed really—"

"Stop," Wave says. "I don't actually want to know. Can we just get on with things? Assuming you can get past your disappointment over my vagina." She doesn't quite manage to keep the bitterness from her voice, but Rouge is as flippant as ever.

"It definitely takes some of the challenge out of it, but I'll live."

"What the fuck is that supposed—" Before Wave can finish the sentence, she's being tipped to the side. She lands on her back; the couch is soft and comfortable, but the fall is still ungainly. Rouge laughs at Wave's flailing legs, as if she isn't the reason for them in the first place.

"You could have asked," Wave snaps.

"I could have," Rouge agrees easily, "but watching you struggle is more fun." She situates herself between Wave's legs and leans forward, placing her hands on Wave's shoulders before slowly dragging them down. Her fingers trail lightly over the insides of Wave's wrist, then further down so she can entwine them with Wave's own.

Wave's throat goes dry. This was just supposed to be sex; even with her gloves still on, this position is—

"Let's get these off you, hm?"

Wave's tongue sticks to the roof of her mouth. She can't do anything but nod silently as Rouge first removes her bracelets, then takes off her gloves and sets them neatly on the coffee table.

Rouge's hands have been bare this entire time, but Wave still curls her own fingers into her palms in an attempt to hide them. To her surprise, Rouge doesn't comment on the action at all. She barely even glances at Wave's hands before grabbing her hips and leaning down to mouth at her neck again.

It should put her at ease, having her boundaries respected like this—but, for some reason Wave can't quite put her finger on, it pisses her off. "That's it?"

Rouge smiles against Wave's neck. "Didn't realize you were so eager to get the rest of your clothes off."

That's not what Wave meant—but it's less embarrassing to play along with it than to clarify that she was talking about Rouge's utter lack of response at seeing her bare fingers. "Didn't you say you could teach me something?" She huffs. "So far, I'm not exactly impressed."

Rouge hums. She drags her lips down Wave's body, touch feather-light as she reaches the top of her shirt. "So you say, but—" One of her hands migrates to Wave's cunt again, cupping her over her pants. "You seem plenty excited already."

Wave rolls her eyes. "You want a prize for getting me wet? Please. That's quite literally the least you could do."

"I think I've got a prize already." Rouge grinds the heel of her hand down, sitting back so she can better watch Wave shudder at the touch. She continues grinding her hand even as she leans down again to scrape her teeth over Wave's clothed breast, right over her nipples.

Wave gasps, stuck between trying to buck her hips into Rouge's touch and pressing her chest harder against her; somehow, she ends up doing neither. "Rouge."

"Yes?" Rouge tilts her head, blinking innocently up at Wave with her mouth still hovering over her shirt. "Something you need?"

Wave groans in frustration. "Will you just—get on with it already?"

Rouge pulls her hand away. Wave chases after her, straining against the hand still on her hip. She doesn't stop until Rouge sits up, a dangerous sort of gleam in her eyes that makes Wave freeze in place. "Beg for it."

Wave stares at her. She's certain this has to be some sort of sick joke; the way Rouge is smiling certainly makes it seem that way, but it's always hard to tell with the bat. "Are you fucking serious?"

Rouge shrugs. "I told you I like my girls desperate."

"I'm not going to beg you," Wave says. It's already bad enough that she agreed to sleep with her at all; begging would be beyond humiliating.

"You're free to leave if you don't want to. Or," Rouge tilts her head to the side, "we can do things at my pace."

"Fine," Wave snaps. She turns her head to the side, trying not to show any petulance on her face. "Do whatever you want."

"Now that is a dangerous proposition." Rouge licks her lips, dragging her gaze down Wave's body in a way that makes her feathers fluff up. She almost looks like she wants to eat her.

If only she would; when she dips her head down against she just attaches her lips to Wave's throat again. She sucks a bruise into the skin right below her jaw, then moves down to bite at her clavicle again. Her hand stays firmly in place on Wave's hip, the other braced against the cushions of the couch.

Wave keeps waiting for her to touch her, but Rouge just—doesn't. Even when Wave places her own hands on Rouge's back and tries to pull her closer, she just keeps mouthing at Wave's neck until the skin is raw and sensitive, until every scrape of Rouge's fangs against her skin tears a whine from her throat. She's beyond turned on, so wet she's sure she must have soaked right through her underwear.

She can only endure it for another minute before her composure snaps. "Fuck, Rouge, just—" Wave thumps her head against the pillow beneath her. "Please. Please, just fuck me."

Rouge doesn't say anything; she wordlessly shifts to toy with the bottom of Wave's shirt, a silent request for her to raise her torso so she can take it off. It's almost worse than if she had bragged, had rubbed Wave's face in her victory; this smug silence just makes it seem like Wave giving in was inevitable.

Any other moment Wave might have protested, might have said something just to cause some kind of argument—done something to break the almost unbearable tension, the anticipation wound tight enough that it feels like it's strangling her. As it is, she's too far gone to do anything of the sort; she holds her tongue and sits up, raising her arms so Rouge can pull her shirt off.

Rouge places a hand on Wave's shoulder and pushes her until she's lying flat again. She doesn't move her hand to Wave's pants after that like Wave had been expecting; instead she drags it down over her breast, palm brushing over Wave's nipple in a way that sends a spike of pleasure like an electric shock down her spine. She moves lower, until her hand is cupping Wave's breast, and squeezes gently.

It feels good, certainly—but it's not enough. "Stop teasing," Wave whines. When Rouge shoots her a meaningful look, she belatedly tacks on a please.

At that, Rouge finally hooks her fingers into the waistband of Wave's pants. Wave lifts her hips, wiggling impatiently as Rouge drags her pants and underwear down in one go. The apartment is well-isolated enough for there not to be a breeze, but even just having her soaked cunt exposed to the stagnant air is enough to tear a moan from Wave's throat. She's aching for something to touch her, her clit practically throbbing with need—

So it really shouldn't come as a surprise that Rouge chooses to attach her mouth to one of Wave's nipples instead, one hand stroking the inside of her thigh. Wave writhes underneath her, desperately trying to get Rouge's hand to go where she needs it to be. She's so frustrated she could scream; more than that, she's absolutely had it with Rouge's games, is just about to bring down a hand to take care of business herself—when Rouge finally deigns to brush the very tips of her fingers through her folds.

Even that small touch makes Wave shudder, a keen tearing itself from her throat. She tries to grind down against Rouge's hand, only for the bat to pull her fingers away just enough to keep the touch light. The last of Wave's composure finally snaps; she grabs Rouge's wrist and holds her hand in place while she moves against her fingers as best she can. Without Rouge's help, it doesn't amount to much; all she really achieves is getting Rouge to release her nipple with a wet pop and a click of her tongue.

"Greedy," she admonishes.

"Sick of your shit," Wave snaps back. "If you don't touch me properly right fucking now I swear—"

She cuts off with a high-pitched moan when Rouge finally moves her fingers into a good position, thumb slotting against Wave's clit and the tip of her middle finger just barely pressing against her hole.

"Go on, then," Rouge drawls. "If you want to be in charge so bad, do it yourself."

Wave is distracted by the feeling of Rouge's thumb against her, the pressure so close to being enough even without any movement that it makes her thought go fuzzy. She tries to decipher Rouge's words, but gives up after a few second when it becomes clear she won't be able to. "What?"

Rouge plants her free hand next to Wave's head and leans in close enough for Wave to count her lashes. "Fuck yourself on my fingers." She smirks at the choked-off gasp that leaves Wave at the words. "If you do well, I'll consider taking over again."

It's utterly degrading, being told to hump Rouge's fingers like this—but Wave is wound up enough that she's willing to set aside her pride for the moment and do as she's told. She moves against Rouge, hand spasming around her wrist when her finger breaches her properly.

Keeping quiet is utterly impossible; Wave moans and keens as she fucks herself on Rouge's hand, as her thumb slides repeatedly across her clit. Humiliatingly, it takes less than a minute for her rhythm to stutter as she grows close. She tries to hold it off, tries to retain some of her dignity and last longer—but it's no use. One look at Rouge's face, at her blown pupils, the way her eyes are trained on where her finger disappears into Wave—and she tips right over the edge.

The orgasm is like a flash fire, burning hot and fast. She shakes with it, a slight tremble in her limbs she wouldn't have been able to stop even if she'd bothered to try.

When it's over, Wave melts into the cushions beneath her, utterly boneless. Her grip around Rouge's wrist loosens enough for the bat to pull out of it, withdrawing her fingers and wiping her moist hand on Wave's thigh, adding to the mess already wetting the inside of her thighs.

"Well," Rouge tilts her head to the side, lips curled into a smile. She's clearly aiming for casual and unaffected, but her pupils are still blown wide enough to completely undermine the effect. "You may have ruined my couch, but that was quite the show."

Wave snorts. "If I'm the first girl to leave stains on this couch, I'll personally come by with my steam cleaner to clean it up." She purchased the handheld device after Jet and Storm left one too many grease stains on their own couch. So far that's all she's used it for, but she's sure it can get rid of other stains just fine.

"No need," Rouge says. "I've got my own."

Wave rolls her eyes. Figures. "Get a lot of use out of that, do you?"

Rouge laughs. "More than you, I'm sure."

Wave opens her mouth to protest—she has no problem getting girls, thank you very much—then snaps it closed when Rouge places a hand on her lower stomach, palm flat and fingers splayed. The touch sends heat through Wave's body, starting in her stomach but pooling in her groin. Her clit throbs; she's probably making that stain even worse.

After only a moment, Rouge pulls her hand away. Wave lifts herself onto her elbows to glare at the bat, ready to snap at her for dragging things out unnecessarily, again—but she stops when Rouge reaches for the sash keeping her robe closed. She doesn't bother teasing this time, undoing the knot quickly and sliding out of the garment in one smooth movement.

Wave's mouth goes dry. She's imagined what Rouge would look like under her clothes a few times, but the real thing is nothing compared to her idle fantasies. The bat is all round curves and smooth skin, her hips and breasts decorated with faint, silvery stretch marks that just make Wave ache to touch her even more.

Her hands tremble at her side. She feels like she's on a heist, her palm itching in that particular way they do when she's about to take hold of something almost incomprehensibly valuable.

Rouge catches her looking and smiles. She drags a finger down the swell of her breast, passing so close to her nipple that Wave's breath involuntarily hitches. "You can touch, if you want."

Wave's fingers twitch with the instinctive need to reach out. She curls them into fists instead and pushes herself into a sitting position. Her tongue sticks to the roof of her mouth; she can't speak, can only nod and hope Rouge understands.

Thankfully she does, settling herself on the couch in front of Wave and pushing her chest in her direction.

It takes everything Wave has not to just grab a handful of tit; she just barely manages to place her hands on the swell of Rouge's hips instead, fingers petting along the stretchmarks there as she drags them slowly upwards. Only when she's traced the full contours of Rouge's torso with her hands does she slide them over her breasts, cupping the soft flesh in her palms.

Rouge makes a nearly inaudible noise as the heel of Wave's hands drag across her nipple. Emboldened by the response, Wave pulls away to glide a finger along her areola, then lightly pinches the nipple between her pointer and middle finger. That nets her a shuddering exhale and Rouge's head tipping back to expose the column of her neck; Wave can't kiss it the way Rouge can, but she still nudges her beak against it. Rouge tilts her head to the side to allow her better access, so Wave drags the sharp point of her beak through her fur, delighting in the way it makes the bat shiver.

Wave softly squeezes Rouge's breast with the hand not currently occupied with her nipple, then trails it slowly down her body; her ribs, her midriff, the slight swell of her stomach—

Rouge catches her wrist. Surprised, Wave pulls away to look at her.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Rouge says. "There'll be plenty of time for that later. First—" She pulls Wave's hand up, maintaining eye-contact as she presses a kiss to the very tip of her pointer finger. "I did promise to teach you a little bit of technique."

Wave's breath stutters in her chest. She feels like she should protest, should offer to get Rouge off at least once just because it's the decent thing to do—but she can't actually bring herself to until Rouge has placed her flat on her back once more. "Are you sure you—"

"Yup." Rouge pushes at Wave's thighs, positioning herself between her spread legs. She's busy getting herself situated, but she glances up long enough to say, "You just lie back and enjoy the ride."

That's all the encouragement Wave needs. She does as she's told and lies back, though she angles her head to watch as Rouge lowers her own.

The bat doesn't go for her cunt immediately; she drags her fangs across Wave's stomach first, only stopping when she reaches the place where leg meets hip to suck a bruise into the skin there. She rubs her hands over the inside of Wave's thighs all the while, massaging the skin gently in a way that might have been soothing if it didn't drive her crazy instead.

Part of Wave is expecting Rouge to make her beg again, so it's a pleasant surprise when the bat moves on after only one hickey. She lowers her face down between Wave's legs, studies her soaked cunt for a moment before blowing air across it. Her breath isn't cold, but it still makes Wave shiver, her feathers fluffing up. The reaction makes Rouge smile; the sight of that—of Rouge on her knees, smiling up at her like that—makes arousal twist in Wave's stomach, slick oozing out of her.

Rouge must notice, because her eyes go dark and her smile widens. She takes one of her hands from Wave's thighs and uses her fingers to spread her labia apart. Wave usually feels an odd kind of vulnerable at being exposed like this, but Rouge doesn't wait long enough for that feeling to set in; she leans down and presses a kiss to Wave's cunt, right below her clit.

Wave's breath hitches. Much as she's aching for it, she's glad Rouge didn't touch her clit immediately; even the area around it is sensitive enough that she nearly jolts away on instinct. When Rouge follows up by swirling the tip of her tongue around Wave's clit she does jerk away, far enough for Rouge to make a disgruntled noise and wrap an arm around her thigh to keep her forcefully in place as she repeats the action.

Like this, Wave can't go anywhere. Rouge's grip doesn't stop her from squirming, but it certainly keeps the bat's head buried firmly between Wave's thighs no matter how much she wriggles—which is for the best, because when Rouge drags the flat of her tongue across her clit in one long, slow movement, Wave thrashes so much she thinks she would have fallen off the couch if not for Rouge holding onto her.

An embarrassingly high-pitched moan escapes her; she digs her fingers into the couch cushions, grip tightening when she feels Rouge huff in amusement right against her clit.

Rouge lifts her head to press an open-mouthed kiss against the inside of Wave's thigh. "I'm starting to think I should tie you up."

The thought is enough to make Wave shudder. She does her best to hide it, slinging her free leg over Rouge's shoulder so she can thump her heel against her back in admonishment. "Don't you dare—"

She cuts off with another moan when Rouge takes advantage of her distraction to dive back in. She removes her hand from Wave's labia to grab the thigh now slung over her shoulder, holding her in place while she laps at her clit. Her fingers dig into Wave's thighs; her nails bite into Wave's skin, a slight pain that only enhances the pleasure she's feeling.

Rouge doesn't give her the chance to get used to any particular rhythm. She licks at Wave's clit for just long enough to lull her into a false sense of security before she switches it up, sealing her lips around the nub and sucking gently instead. That gets Wave squirming again, though she can't tell if she's trying to get away from Rouge's mouth or push herself closer.

Wave hates to admit it, but Rouge isn't all talk; she really is good at this. It can't have been more than a few minutes and she already feels close.

Rouge releases her clit, moves down to lap at her hole instead. The tip of her tongue just barely dips into it on every pass. Wave's mind blanks out, the only remaining thought being that she needs her inside—

The grip Rouge has on her thighs works against her, keeping her firmly in place no matter how much she attempts to grind her hips down to get more of the bat's tongue into her. Rouge notices her struggling, but instead of doing what Wave wants, she slows her movements down to a maddening drag, every tease of her tongue against Wave's rim lasting just long enough to make her excruciatingly aware of how it's not enough.

Wave thumps her head against the couch, groaning in frustration. "Rouge, come on, just—"

Rouge moves her mouth upwards, licking at Wave's clit with that same frustrating slowness. Wave whines, lifts her head again so she can glare down at Rouge—and finds her staring back, pupils blown with arousal, the insides of her ears flushed.

Chaos. How is that in any way fair?

Wave drops her head again, eyes screwing shut when Rouge speeds up, lapping at her clit faster, harder. Pleasure coils in Wave's gut, tighter and tighter as Rouge switches to moving her tongue in zigzags, then finally moves down again to push her tongue into Wave's hole.

The pleasure has Wave arching off the couch, hands letting go of the cushions to clutch at Rouge's head instead. She tries to be mindful of Rouge's comfort and not pull on her fur or ears, but it's difficult when Rouge lets go of her thigh to slot lay her hand on her mound instead, thumb slotting against her clit.

Wave gasps. She can't stop her fingers from digging into the skin behind Rouge's ears, a desperate sort of clutch as Rouge fucks her tongue into her, thumb rubbing across her clit. "Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck—"

Wave comes with a cry, every muscle tense and trembling as Rouge fucks her through it. She doesn't let up, only slows down enough to avoid pushing Wave into overstimulation while dragging her orgasm out as far as it can go.

When it's over, Wave goes limp, falling back against the couch like a puppet with its strings cut. Even then Rouge doesn't stop; she removes her thumb from Wave's clit only to replace it with her tongue again, licking and sucking until Wave feels another orgasm approaching in no time. Her muscles have gone lax enough that she's no longer squirming—but she manages to summon the strength needed to raise her head when Rouge withdraws the arm around her thigh entirely.

Rouge is on her knees with her ass in the air, back arched beautifully so she keep her mouth attached to Wave's cunt. Her tail twitches every few seconds, the movement occasionally accompanied by a moan that vibrates straight through Wave's clit. It takes a while before Wave registers what's going on, but then she realizes—Rouge's hand is stuck between her own legs.

Just the thought of Rouge touching herself while eating her out is enough to send a shock of pleasure through Wave. She manages to lift one of her hands and place it on Rouge's head again, petting the skin behind her ears where she'd scratched earlier. Rouge moans in response to the touch, louder than before. It's everything Wave can do to keep it together, to keep massaging the base of Rouge's ears—but she manages, just long enough for Rouge's rhythm to falter and her hips to jerk as she comes with a moan that pushes Wave into a climax of her own.

Finally, Rouge's mouth on her becomes too much. Wave switches from petting her head to pushing it gently away, murmuring indistinctly about it being enough. Rouge still pulls away slowly, as if she's reluctant to do so; even when she releases Wave's clit, she presses another chaste kiss to it that makes Wave shudder with an aftershock before finally pulling away entirely.

For a moment, the only sound is their heavy breathing. Wave closes her eyes as she basks in the afterglow and doesn't open them again until Rouge breaks the silence.

"Do you have another round in you, or are you finished already?"

The questions startles an incredulous laugh out of Wave. Already, as if three orgasms isn't plenty. Even so—

There's an edge of challenge to Rouge's voice that makes Wave's competitive spirit flare up. "Give me five minutes."

Rouge lets out a long-suffering sigh. "If I must."

The cushions shift as Rouge gets up. Wave raises herself up to look at what she's doing—and finds any words she might have said caught in her throat when she looks at Rouge. Her ears and face are flushed pink, her muzzle still slightly damp from Wave's slick. Sweat glistens on her breasts. When she moves, the play of the light draws Wave's attention to the sheen of wetness between her thighs.

Maybe Wave doesn't need five minutes to recover after all.

Rouge catches her looking and sends a smile her way. "Don't worry; I'm not going anywhere. Just grabbing some water."

Wave wants to say she was hardly worried, but words are still beyond her. Only when Rouge returns from a trip into another room with a cold glass of water that she hands to Wave does she manage to croak out, "Thanks."

Rouge waves away her gratitude. She takes a seat on the couch again, idly inspecting her nails but occasionally glancing in Wave's direction while she takes a few hesitant sips.

"You should drink all of it," Rouge says. She looks meaningfully at the cushion beneath Wave. "You'll get dehydrated, otherwise."

Wave's face heats up in embarrassment. She gulps down the water just for something to do, then sets the empty glass on the coffee table with a thump. "I'm ready."

Rouge's lips curl into a smile. "Sure you don't need another minute?"

"No." Wave raises an eyebrow in the bat's direction. "But if you aren't up for—"

Rouge laughs. "You're cute. If you really are sure—" Wave grunts in annoyance; Rouge visibly suppresses another laugh. "—lie down on your side."

Wave hesitates. Considering she already came three times and Rouge only one, she was expecting not to be on the receiving end this time. "Are you sure? I know I can't really go down on you, but I can use my fingers—"

With a roll of her eyes, Rouge once again pushes her to lie down. "Don't you worry your pretty little head about me," she says. "I know what I'm doing."

Wave looks at her for a long moment, then finally obeys and rolls onto her side. As soon as she's situated, Rouge grabs one of her legs by the knee and lifts it up, resting it on her shoulder as she sits herself on Wave's other leg. It means Wave can feel how wet she is, the slick dampening her feathers.

"Comfy?" Rouge asks.

The pull of her thigh muscle burns a little, but Wave can hardly bring herself to care. She nods, breath already heavy with anticipation. She swallows thickly, eyes trained on Rouge's cunt as she drags it along her leg, closer and closer—until with a final shift of her hips, she slots herself against Wave.

It's somehow both wetter and warmer than her mouth had been. The slickness means the friction isn't so overwhelming when she finally starts moving, little circles of her hips that grind her labia against Wave's clit. It leaves Wave's head clear enough that she can move with her, rocking back and forth in time with Rouge's rhythm.

Pleasure builds slow and steady. It coils in her abdomen as much thanks to the visual as the feeling; Rouge grinding against her, one hand clenched into the couch pillows and the other clutching at Wave's thigh. Her head is tipped back, lips parted around breathy moans and sighs of pleasure that Wave does her best to memorize for the next time she finally gets a little time alone.

Rouge's moans rise in pitch when Wave places a hand on one of her breasts, pinching a nipple between two fingers. Her other hand goes to Rouge's ass; she uses that grip to keep her moving even as her rhythm starts to falter, hips stuttering erratically as her climax approaches.

Wave can't decide where to look. Her eyes flick between the place where they're connected, Rouge's breasts, her neck—then finally stick to her face as, with a final jerk of her hips, she comes. It's a sight to behold; Rouge's face crumples like she's in pain, her brow pinching and her mouth opening around a silent moan.

Rouge is usually so composed, every action and facial expression calculated. To finally see some of that composure break… It's sexy, obviously, but—

More than that, it makes Wave feel powerful. Like she's finally in control of the situation.

The feeling only lasts a handful of seconds, until Rouge recovers and starts moving against her again. She's louder, now, her moans more full-throated. The sound of it shoots straight to Wave's cunt, her clit throbbing any time Rouge grinds against it.

It takes no time at all before she's coming again, the feeling washing over her in waves. Rouge is still grinding against her when it passes, though the feeling has switched from being too much in the best possible way to just too much. On instinct, she tries to squirm away—only to pause when she registers Rouge is saying something in between her moans.

"Just a little more," she pants. "Just—you're doing well, a little more, a little—ah, ah, ah." Finally, with a gasp and a shudder, Rouge comes too. Her hips stutter weakly against Wave a few more times, then come to a stop entirely.

She stays where she is a few moments longer; just as the stretch of Wave's thigh on her shoulder is becoming uncomfortable and she's considering asking her to get off, Rouge pulls away to stand on her feet. She's clearly trying to hide it, but Wave doesn't miss the faint tremble of her legs.

Rouge stretches with a groan, back arching as she lifts her arms over her head. For once, Wave lets herself look instead of averting her gaze. Only when the bat drops her arms does Wave turn away, pushing her face into the pillows beneath her as she tries to get comfortable.

"Ah-ah," Rouge tuts. "None of that. I told you my time was limited, and that limit definitely doesn't include the rest of the night."

Wave lifts her head just enough to glare at her. "Are you seriously kicking me out?"

"I'm afraid so. Sorry," Rouge shrugs, not even playing at sincere regret, "but I'm not much for cuddling."

Wave glares at her a moment longer before she snaps, "Fine. Be that way." She pushes herself up and slowly clambers off the couch. Much like Rouge's, her legs tremble, but they support her weight as she gathers her clothing and gets dressed.

By the time she's finished, Rouge is wearing her own robe again as well. Wave looks at her for another long moment, waiting for her to change her mind, but Rouge doesn't hesitate to gesture to the balcony door.

"Fine," Wave snaps again. "I'm going." She stalks towards the door and slides it open—which is when Rouge finally calls out for her to wait.

Wave turns. "What?"

"I had a good time tonight." Rouge smiles, walking over with a sway in her hips. She leans in close, reaches out to toy with Wave's necklace as she continues. "If you ever want a repeat performance… I wouldn't necessarily be opposed."

Wave snorts. "Not if I'm just going to end up getting kicked out again."

She pulls away from Rouge and steps onto the balcony. Her extreme gear is still there; she gets on and rides off without looking back, no matter how much she wants to.

It's only when she's already home that she realizes—her necklace is gone.