Shards of Reminisce Ch.62 ❤︎

Disclaimer: Everyone depicted in this chapter is a consenting adult.
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So, a day, or more like half a day at Beacon, and besides that minor hiccup with that fucking asshole, I'm pretty content right now.

I learned a lot from Ruby, a surprisingly sweet and enthusiastic girl. I mean, I kinda got that feeling from her back in Patch, but it's good that my instinct didn't betray me. Although I didn't get a new job class from it, which is fine. I've got enough practical knowledge now to try applying it back at my workshop. Plus, I learned what I'm actually lacking in terms of equipment, and my basement has enough room that I could fit a new workbench and one of those cool tool organization racks Ruby showed me. Or one of those metal storage cabinets too.

She was incredibly helpful, actually. When I mentioned my mini workshop setup in the basement, she immediately started rattling off specific models and brands I should look for—stuff that would fit my space and budget while still being quality equipment. Made my shopping list a hell of a lot easier.

Obviously, I gave her another cookie for that.

Worth it, judging by how her eyes lit up.

Although, she is quite young compared to all the other students. Two years younger than most of her peers, if I remember right from what Jeanne told me.

But all that weapon talk took up most of the afternoon, which is why I'm now resting comfortably on Jeanne's lap as I stare out at... well, whatever's in front of me.

Oh, right. That's the Emerald Forest.

The academy has a marvellous view, gotta give them that.

We're somewhere on the many green grounds of Beacon, having found a nice spot under a large tree with a perfect view of the forest stretching out before us. The grass is soft; the shade is cool, and Jeanne's lap makes for an excellent pillow.

She got all flustered when I first laid down and made myself comfortable; her face turning that cute shade of red I'm getting used to seeing. But she didn't push me away. Instead, after a moment of adorable hesitation, her fingers found my ears and started gently playing with them.

I let her. She's already touched them before, but now she's really playing with them, and I occasionally flick them in response to her fingers. Only Neo's been allowed to do this before, but now Jeanne has been added to that very exclusive list.

It feels nice, actually. Soothing, the way that ticklish sensation travels down from my ears through my whole body.

My tail curls contentedly beside me as her fingers trace the soft fur, occasionally scratching lightly at the base in a way that makes me want to—well, if I could purr, I probably would. Which is a weird thought since I physically can't purr to begin with.

Wait… why would I want to purr like a cat?

"Thanks for coming today," Jeanne says.

"I'm glad you invited me," I reply honestly, my eyes half-closed as I enjoy the gentle touch. "It was nice to get away from everything for a while."

And it was. A break from the job, from Roman's whining, from Cinder and her bullshit, from all the complicated, dangerous shit I'm tangled up in. Just... normal. Spending time with my woman.

Simple and peaceful.

Though I know it can't last forever. Eventually I'll have to go back to Vale and deal with all that mess. Answer to Cinder, though I've already decided my response. Play along with that bitch while I gather more strength and deal with her.

But that's a problem for later.

Right now, I'm just going to enjoy this moment.

A thought crosses my mind, and I reach into my inventory, pulling out a couple of stuffed potatoes I'd made earlier this week. They're still perfectly warm as expected and the savory smell hits me immediately, making my mouth water.

Naturally, I take a quick bite, relishing the amazing taste. Perfectly seasoned, the potato fluffy on the inside with a crispy skin, stuffed with cheese and bacon and herbs. Fucking delicious, even if I say so myself.

I hold up the second one toward Jeanne, offering it to her. "Want one?"

But she doesn't take it.

I wait a moment, arm still extended, the stuffed potato held up in offering. Maybe she didn't hear me?

"Jeanne?"

Still nothing. And she's stopped playing with my ears completely.

Frowning slightly, I shift position and sit up, turning to look at her properly.

And freeze.

Jeanne is staring straight ahead at nothing, her blue eyes unfocused and distant. Tears are streaming down her face. Her mouth hangs slightly open as if she'd been about to say something but forgot how to speak.

She's not blinking. Not moving. Just... staring.

What the fuck—

"Jeanne?!" My voice comes out sharper than intended, panic immediately flooding my system as I drop the food.

I grab her shoulders, shaking her gently. "Jeanne! Hey, what's wrong? What happened?"

No response. She doesn't even seem to register that I'm touching her, that I'm right in front of her. Her eyes remain fixed, tears continuing to fall in steady streams down her cheeks.

"Jeanne, please," I cup her face with both hands, trying to make her look at me, to get some kind of reaction. "Come on, snap out of it. What's happening? Talk to me!"

But she remains the same, those silent tears tracking down her cheeks and over my hands, completely unresponsive. Like she's somewhere else entirely.

"JEANNE!" I shake her harder. "Wake up!”

Nothing. 

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

I have absolutely no fucking idea what to do.

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-Jeanne d’Arc-

Jeanne sighed contentedly as her fingers traced along her boyfriend’s ears, watching as they flicked and twitched in response. Sometimes they'd swat at her fingers playfully, and she had to suppress a giggle each time. She definitely needed this peaceful moment - midterms were just a week away, and the stress had been building. But right now, with the warm afternoon sun filtering through the leaves and Ma'iq relaxed in her lap, everything felt... right.

Her fingers found the soft fur at the base of his ears again, and she smiled when his tail curled contentedly beside him, his tail was also so expressive. He looked adorable like this. It made her heart do that funny flutter thing it always did around him.

"Want one?"

The question pulled her attention away from his ears. She watched as he reached into that storage semblance of his and produced what looked like potatoes. They smelled amazing, and her stomach reminded her that lunch had been a while ago.

But then the world lurched sickeningly, and suddenly she wasn't sitting under a tree anymore. Pain didn't lance through her head this time - instead, there was just a sudden, disorienting shift, like missing a step.

She tried to gasp, tried to move, tried to do anything, but she couldn't. Because she was already moving, but it wasn't her doing it. Her body walked forward with measured, graceful steps, and she could feel the tight constraint of an elegant dress around her body, something she'd never worn, cut in a style she'd never seen.

‘What's happening?! This is different - the other times I could just watch, but now I can FEEL everything!’

Panic clawed at her throat, but even that sensation felt muffled, distant, like it belonged to someone else. And she could smell the strong scent of flowers everywhere.

Her hands,  her hands, but not under her control, smoothed down the front of the white dress. Silk? Something even finer? She'd never worn anything like this in her life. Not even her sister Saphron at her wedding.

The door before her opened, and she stepped through into the most beautiful ballroom she'd ever seen. Crystal chandeliers hung from vaulted ceilings, their light reflecting off polished marble floors. Elegant columns lined the walls, draped with flowing fabric in deep reds and golds. A crowd of people filled the space, all dressed in very expensive-looking clothes, almost like in those movies from Atlas.

And they were all looking at her.

They were clapping for her.

‘Why are they clapping? What is this? Where am I?!’

Her body performed a graceful curtsy, bowing to the assembled guests. She felt the weight of their attention, the admiration in their gazes, and underneath it all, a warmth - confidence, belonging, happiness.

But those emotions weren't hers. Or were they? She couldn't tell anymore.

Then her head turned - she didn't turn it, it just turned - and her hand extended. A warm hand grasped hers gently, and electricity seemed to spark at the contact.

"It's the first time I'm at such a party..." Her mouth moved, words tumbling out that she hadn't chosen to speak. "E-excuse me, is there anything weird on me?"

‘I didn't say that! I didn't move! What's happening to me?!’

Terror clawed through her. She was a prisoner in her own body, watching through eyes that were hers but weren't, feeling sensations that should have been impossible. This wasn't like the other visions at all - those had been like watching a play. This was living it.

"You are the most beautiful woman in the entirety of..."

The voice was familiar, warm and deep, and it sent her heart racing. Her face heated up intensely, and she felt herself looking away, suddenly shy and flustered in a way that felt both foreign and achingly familiar.

‘Why do I feel this way? How can I feel what this person feels?’

Slowly, so slowly, her gaze returned to the man holding her hand. And her breath - or the breath of whoever's memory this was - caught in her throat.

Ma'iq.

But... different. Older. There were subtle lines around his eyes that weren't there now, a maturity to his features that suggested years had passed. He wore a formal attire that fit him perfectly; it made him so handsome. But it was unmistakably him - those same black eyes, that same smile, even the hair with the cute side buns too. Everything was pointing out that it was him.

‘Ma'iq? But how? Why is he here? When is this? This is supposed to be a memory!’

"Ma'iq, would you give me a dance?"

The words left her mouth with a new tone.

His hand found her waist, pulling her close with a tenderness that made her heart stutter. She felt herself rest against his broad chest as music played - a beautiful, soothing melody. His other hand held hers with such gentle reverence, as if she were something precious and fragile.

"I'm so glad to meet you."

Those words resonated through her entire being, carrying such weight, such meaning. And she felt Ma'iq's hands tighten around her - not roughly, but in that same way he'd held her when he'd hugged her moments ago.

"....I... you dearly."

The words were fragmented, incomplete, but the emotion behind them crashed over her.

And then they were dancing.

It was nothing like the formal dances she'd learned from books or seen at the few celebrations in Ansel. This was intimate, flowing, two people moving as one entity. Every step felt natural, like they'd done this a thousand times before. She could feel the strength in his arms, the way he guided her effortlessly across the floor, the way their bodies fit together perfectly.

The ballroom spun around them, but all she could focus on was him. The warmth of his hand on her waist, the gentle pressure of his fingers interlaced with hers, the way he looked at her.

She felt happy. Deliriously, wonderfully happy in a way she'd never experienced before. And underneath it all, a smug satisfaction - she could feel the envious gazes of the other women in the room, wishing they were in her place.

‘This isn't real. This can't be real. But it feels so real. Why does it feel like a memory? Like something that happened? Like something that WILL happen?’

The dance continued and Ma'iq's eyes never left hers, that older, mature version of him looking at her with such devotion it made her chest ache.

‘Is this... us? In the future? Another life? How is this possible?’

But in a flash, a dazzling light illuminated the entire hall, so bright it hurt to look at. The music screeched to a halt.

"What—"

“What's that light?!”

"AHHHH!"

"NO!"

One guest screamed, pointing frantically at the massive windows. Jeanne's head turned to look, and her blood ran cold.

Scorching flames were falling from the sky like rain, massive meteors of fire descending across the land. The beautiful night sky had transformed into a hellscape straight from nightmares.

No no no no NO!

The first impact shook the entire building. The vaulted ceiling cracked with a deafening sound, chunks of stone and plaster raining down on the screaming crowd. A massive beam crashed through the chandelier, sending crystal shards exploding outward like shrapnel.

People stampeded toward the doors, crushing each other in their panic. Elegant gowns were trampled, formal suits torn. The refined party-goers transformed into a desperate mob, clawing and shoving to escape.

More fire fell. And more. 

Some guests, driven by sheer terror, threw themselves through the windows in desperate attempts to escape. Jeanne watched in horror as they plummeted, their screams cutting off abruptly when they hit the ground far below.

‘This can't be happening! Why is this happening?!’

The flames spread with impossible speed, consuming everything they touched. Tapestries burst into flame. The polished floors cracked and blackened. The air itself seemed to ignite, turning the beautiful ballroom into a furnace.

"WHY?!" She heard herself scream, her voice raw with desperation and confusion. "We completed our sacred mission! WHY IS THIS HAPPENING?!"

‘What mission? What are you talking about?! What's going on?!’

Strong arms suddenly wrapped around her, lifting her off her feet. Ma'iq - older Ma'iq - pulled her close to his chest, his face set in grim determination despite the fear in his eyes.

"Hold on to me!" 

He ran, carrying her, desperately looking for an exit. But everywhere they turned, the fire cut them off. A wall of flame erupted to their left. The ceiling collapsed to their right, blocking that path. Behind them, the inferno consumed everything.

‘Please, please let us escape! There has to be a way out!’

But there wasn't. Every opportunity closed before they could reach it. Every hope extinguished as quickly as it sparked. The flames circled them, tightening like a noose, herding them into an ever-shrinking pocket of space.

"MA'IQ!" She screamed his name, clinging to him as the heat became unbearable.

"JEANNE!" 

From the cracks she saw the horrifying reality around them. The other guests - those beautiful, elegant people who had been celebrating just moments ago - were nothing but ash now. Charred silhouettes frozen in their final moments of agony, crumbling to dust as the flames continued.

The fire closed in. 

Ma'iq held her tighter, his body trembling against hers. She could hear him whispering something - prayers? Apologies? 

And then the flames reached them.

The pain was immediate. Every nerve in her body erupted in agony as fire consumed her flesh. She could feel her skin blistering, cracking, burning away. The elegant dress melted into her, becoming part of her burning body.

"IT BURNS!" She shrieked. "IT BURNS! SAVE ME, MA'IQ! SAVE MEEEEEEE!"

Ma'iq screamed too, his grip never loosening even as the flames devoured them both. He tried to shield her, somehow trying to put out the fire consuming her.

The pain intensified beyond anything she thought possible. Beyond what any living thing should be able to endure. She could feel herself dying, feel her body turning to ash just like all the others.

‘Please stop please stop PLEASE STOP—’

Everything turned to white-hot agony.

…

..

..

..

..

"IT BURNS! IT BURNS! IT BURNS!"

Jeanne woke with a gasping scream, her body thrashing violently trying to put out the fire engulfing her body.

She tumbled off whatever she'd been lying on, hitting the floor hard, but the impact didn't register. Nothing mattered except the fire consuming her flesh, the unbearable heat, the agony of burning alive.

She rolled frantically across the floor. Her hands clawed at her arms, her chest, trying to tear away skin that felt like it was melting off her bones even though a part of her was screaming it wasn’t real.

"GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF!" She shrieked. "THE FIRE! MAKE IT STOP! STOP!"

Strong hands suddenly gripped her shoulders, pinning her down. She struggled against them, bucking and twisting.

"NO! LET ME GO! I HAVE TO GET AWAY FROM THE FIRE!" Tears streamed down her face as she fought. "I DON'T WANT TO DIE! PLEASE! PLEASE DON'T LET ME BURN AGAIN!"

Another hand touched the top of her head.

And everything stopped.

The flames vanished instantly. The pain evaporated. A wave of profound, almost supernatural calm washed over her. Her racing heart slowed to a steady rhythm. Her frantic, hyperventilating breaths eased into normal breaths. The terror that had gripped her heart like a vice simply... disappeared.

She blinked slowly, her vision clearing from the panic-induced blur.

Multiple faces stared down at her, all etched with deep concern. Pyrrha knelt beside her, one hand still on her shoulder. Ruby's silver eyes were wide with worry, her usual enthusiasm completely absent. Nora looked uncharacteristically serious, her usual bubbly smile gone. And Ren - it was Ren whose hand rested on her head, his semblance had calmed her down.

"Wha... guys?" Jeanne's voice came out hoarse and confused. She blinked again, trying to reconcile what she was seeing with what she'd just experienced. "What...?"

She rubbed her eyes with trembling hands and finally took in her surroundings properly. White walls. Medical equipment humming softly. The sharp, clean smell of antiseptic. Curtains drawn around other beds in the room.

She was in the infirmary. Again.

"What happened?" She asked weakly, trying to sit up but finding her body felt like it had run a marathon. "Why am I in the infirmary? How did I...?"

Before anyone could answer, a crack echoed across the room.

"I would prefer if all of you vacate this room. Now."

Headmaster Ozpin walked inside, Professor Goodwitch close behind him. His usual calm demeanor was firmly in place, but she could tell he was not calm in the slightest.

"What?!" Ruby was the one to protest loudly, actually stepping forward to put herself between Ozpin and Jeanne's bed. "But Jeanne just woke up! We can't just leave her! She needs us!"

"Miss Rose, I understand your concern for your friend," Ozpin said, his tone softening slightly but remaining absolutely firm. "However, Miss d'Arc's semblance appears to have activated in an... uncontrolled manner. For everyone's safety, including hers, we need to address this immediately. Should it happen again while you're all present, without proper precautions, the results could be dangerous for everyone in this room."

He gestured toward the door with his cane. "You may wait outside if you wish, but I must insist you leave this room at once."

Everyone seemed hesitant, frozen in place. Pyrrha looked genuinely torn, her hand still resting protectively on Jeanne's shoulder, clearly not wanting to abandon her partner in this state. Ruby's hands clenched into fists at her sides, her jaw set stubbornly. Even Nora, who usually respected authority about as much as she respected the concept of "indoor voice" or "personal space," looked ready to plant her feet and argue.

But Ozpin's expression brooked no argument, and after a long, tense moment, they began filing out reluctantly. Pyrrha was the last to leave, pausing at the door to give Jeanne a long, worried look before Professor Goodwitch gently but firmly ushered her out and closed the door with a soft click.

The sudden silence felt oppressive.

Jeanne slowly pushed herself up to sit properly on the bed, her limbs feeling like jelly, muscles trembling from exhaustion she couldn't explain. Her head felt stuffed with cotton, and there was a persistent ache behind her eyes.

"Ma'iq," she blurted. Her eyes darted around the empty infirmary frantically. "What happened to Ma'iq? He was there - I was with him - where is he?! Is he okay?!"

"Mr. Rak'han brought you here as quickly as possible when your... episode began," Ozpin explained, pulling a chair close to her bed with a scrape of metal on tile and sitting down. His cane rested against his knee. "He was quite distressed, I must say. However, he had to leave approximately two hours ago. This is a school infirmary, not a public hospital. Visitors cannot stay past visiting hours, regrettably."

"Hours?" Jeanne's brow furrowed in confusion.

"It's ten o'clock at night, Miss d'Arc."

"What?!" Jeanne stared at him in complete shock, her mouth falling open. "But we were just... it was afternoon!We were sitting under a tree! It was only..."

She trailed off, her mind reeling as she tried to make sense of the timeline. It had felt like minutes. Long, agonizing, painful minutes of dancing and burning and dying, but still just minutes. But hours had passed in reality? How was that possible?

"Miss d'Arc," Ozpin leaned forward, his expression grave and more serious than she'd ever seen it. "You know about your semblance now. We've tested it together, we understand it has specific conditions to activate. So please, I need you to tell me in detail - what exactly happened today?"

Jeanne swallowed hard, her throat dry. Where did she even begin? How could she possibly explain what she'd experienced? How could she put into words the sensation of living and dying in someone else's skin? Especially what would that mean for Ma’iq?

"I..." she started, then stopped, her hands twisting anxiously in the thin blanket covering her lap. "I was with Ma'iq. We were just... relaxing. Talking. He was lying in my lap and I was..." Her cheeks colored slightly despite everything. "I was playing with his ears. And then he offered me food - something from his storage semblance - and the moment I saw it activate, everything just... shifted."

She closed her eyes, trying to organize the chaotic flood of memories. But the moment her eyes closed, the vision came rushing back with terrifying clarity. The beautiful ballroom. The elegant dress. The tender dance with an older Ma'iq. And then the fire. The screaming. The pain beyond anything she'd ever imagined.

Her eyes snapped open again, and she realized tears were streaming down her face.

"I-It wasn't like before," she whispered "The other times - with you, with Mr. Branwen, with that strange statue - I was just... watching. Like looking through a window. I could see and hear everything, but I knew I wasn't really there. I was separate from it."

A sob cut off her words. She pressed her hands to her face, her shoulders shaking as the full weight of what she'd experienced crashed over her again.

"B-But this time... this time I was there. I wasn't just seeing it, I was living it. I could feel the dress on my body, feel my heart beating, feel..." Another sob. "I couldn't control anything - I was trapped in someone else's body, experiencing their memories as if they were mine."

Professor Goodwitch moved closer, her usual stern expression softened. She pushed a glass of water into Jeanne's trembling hands. "Drink. Slowly."

Jeanne obeyed with shaking hands, the cool water helping to ground her somewhat in reality. The simple act of swallowing helped remind her that she was here, now, safe. Not dying.

When she lowered the glass, Ozpin and Goodwitch exchanged a look.

"Miss d'Arc," Ozpin said carefully, "this vision you experienced - it was triggered by Mr. Rak'han's semblance? His storage semblance, right?"

Jeanne nodded shakily, setting the glass down before she dropped it. "Yeah, I've seen him use it dozens of times before and nothing happened. But today, when he activated it to pull out food..." She shuddered. "Everything just changed. And I was somewhere else. Someone else."

Ozpin's expression grew even more serious, if that was possible. "Tell me everything you saw. Every single detail you can remember, no matter how small or insignificant it might seem. This is extremely important, Miss d'Arc. More important than you can possibly imagine."

Jeanne gulped.

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-Ma’iq Rak’han-

I'm back at the apartment, seated on the couch with my head hanging low, my mood completely ruined from what happened at Beacon.

If it's any consolation, Jeanne wrote back that she's fine. Said it was her Semblance going crazy but things calmed down.

What kind of semblance does she have?

Still… that doesn't help me feel any less like shit.

It really sucked having to leave her like that, not being there when she woke up. That hurt. A lot. But Beacon's stupid fucking rules—they kicked me out the moment campus security showed up. If it wasn't for the problems, I already have with Ozpin, I would've forced my way back in and stayed with her regardless of what anyone said.

Fuck them.

At least nobody blamed me for what happened. Probably too concerned about Jeanne to waste time pointing fingers at the Faunus…. No, I’m being stupid there. Jeanne's friends aren’t like that, I am just stretching it.

Hopefully, I'll get to talk with her soon. Actually see her face and know for sure she's okay.

But then my ears twitch, but I don't bother looking behind me. A moment later, a pair of hands wrap around my neck from behind, and I feel a mouth nibbling playfully at my ear.

"Neo, not in the mood," I growl, my voice coming out rougher than intended.

But Neo, being Neo, doesn't listen. She never does. Instead, her hands start tickling my sides, pinching and poking with that infuriating precision she's perfected over months of living together.

Poke. Poke. Tickle.

"I said—" She pokes my cheek.

"Not in the—" She pinches my cheek, pulling slightly.

"—fucking mood!" She yanks one of my ears, and I feel my eye twitch.

She keeps going, relentless, her fingers finding every sensitive spot she knows I have. My ribs, the base of my tail, behind my ears—all the places that normally would make me squirm or laugh before shoving her away.

But right now? 

Right now it's just pissing me off.

And she fucking knows this.

I tolerate her until something in me snaps.

Everything becomes silent.

And my body reacts. Neo doesn't see it coming as I grab her intruding wrist and yank her forward, using her momentum to flip her over the back of the couch. She gasps as she lands on the cushions with a thump, her mismatched eyes wide, and before she can recover, I'm on top of her, pinning her down with my weight, my hands trapping her wrists on either side of her head.

I'm left panting, lungs burning from the sudden explosion of movement. My chest rises and falls in harsh, uneven jerks. My ears are pinned flat against my skull, tail lashing so hard it stings the backs of my own legs. Lips peeled back just enough to bare canines that catch the dim apartment light. For one long, suspended heartbeat we do nothing but stare at each other.

But after all of that Neo isn't scared.

Not even a flicker.

Now she's grinning—slow, wide, viciously satisfied—like she just proved she can still unravel me whenever she chooses. Her mismatched eyes also express the same thought. She knows exactly where to push. And that cocky expression only makes me narrow my eyes.

"What the actual fuck is wrong with you?" I snarl. My fingers clamp down harder around her slender wrists.

But that only makes her grin stretch wider. She cocks her head, her eyes going up and down, studying me before giving a quick nod. Then, without the slightest warning, her legs snap around my waist, locking me in place. One long, deliberate roll of her hips drags herself over my hardening member through the fabric of my pants. That sends a jolt straight up my spine and makes my vision tunnel for half a second.

That's the final thread.

I crash my mouth against hers.

A metallic taste floods my tongue immediately. I don't care whose blood it is. All I care about is that my tongue forces its way past those stubborn lips, sweeping every slick corner of her mouth like I'm trying to erase the taste of anything that came before me. Yet she meets the invasion head-on, tongue curling around mine in a frantic, slippery fight for dominance which I quickly gain the upper hand.

My hands release her wrists, one moving to tangle in her dual-colored hair, gripping it tightly enough to make her wince, while the other roams down her body, squeezing her breast through the fabric of her shirt.

She gasps into my mouth, and I use the opening to deepen the kiss, swallowing her silent moans. My fingers pinch her nipple, hard, and she arches against me, her legs tightening around my waist, grinding against my rapidly hardening shaft.

I tear my mouth away from hers, a string of saliva connecting us for a moment before breaking. "You wanted this, didn't you?" I growl, my hand leaving her breast to rip her corset open, buttons flying everywhere.

Neo's only response is a smirk, her big breasts spilling out from the prison. She lifts her hips, grinding against me again, urging me to keep going.

And that's all it takes.

With a growl I shred what's left of her shirt before doing the same with her pants. Not giving a single shit about the mess or the consequences. All I care about is to see her naked body and to ruin it because she didn’t take a no for an answer. And when nothing is there between us, the smell hits me: thick, sweet, musky arousal that makes me throb.

I look down to find her naked and giggling; her pale skin glowing in the dim light of the apartment. I can't help but appreciate her perfect body, especially her breasts begging for attention. My gaze travels down her stomach, to her already glistening folds, her legs still wrapped around me.

This sadistic little shortstack…

My turn.

I wrench her legs apart, finally breaking free from her lock. Grab her, making sure my fingers are digging into soft flesh. Flip her stomach-down over the couch arm so fast her breath punches out in a sharp huff. 

All of that just so I could have her bubble ass presented high. A perfect fucking target.

I don’t waste a second and my palm cracks down.

Hard.

A red handprint blooms on her pale skin, and she cries out silently, her back arching. But she doesn't crawl away. She pushes back; higher, wiggling that freshly marked ass in blatant invitation.

So naturally, I spank her round ass again, much harder this time, enjoying the way she tenses, the way her butt ripples. And again, and again, until her entire ass is a lovely shade of red, her skin hot to the touch.

I don't even know why...

But it's making me harder than I've ever been before.

Yet, looking at that abused ass and then at her dripping pussy, thick, sweet, musky arousal running down her thighs in shiny trails, pooling on the cushion beneath her. I can only imagine how delicious she would taste. And the smell invading my nostrils coming from her only reaffirms that idea.

And it evaporates all my reasoning.

I drop to my knees behind her and bury my face between her legs without hesitation.

One long, rough drag of my tongue through her drenched folds; flavor exploding across my tongue: salt, sugar, raw desperate need. She's drenched—coating my lips, my chin, my nose instantly. I spear deep inside her clenching heat, fucking her with my tongue relentlessly, while my hands grip bruised ass-cheeks and spread her wider still, getting a closer look of her rosebud. Her walls flutter and squeeze around the invasion like they're trying to pull me deeper. Neo finally lets out one of those beautiful moans, and grinds back against my face, hips rolling in frantic little circles, trying to ride my tongue, trying to chase the edge.

I love it. I love how she tastes, how she reacts to my touch, how she completely surrenders to me. My hands grip her ass cheeks, squeezing them hard as I continue to feast on her, my tongue working with the sole objective of driving her wild.

I switch to her clit—circling hard, flicking mercilessly, sucking the swollen bud between my lips and flicking my tongue over it in rapid strokes until her thighs quake violently and her whole body locks tight.

Right as the spasms begin, just a little push to everything comes crashing down on her…

I pull away completely, my wrist wiping my mouth.

She whimpers in frustration, craning her neck to look back at me with pleading eyes. 

And she only sees me smirking before I deliver one last vicious spank—hard enough to make her lurch forward with a choked gasp—then fist a handful of her hair and haul her upright onto her knees in front of me as I get back up.

I fucking love that she is such short girl.

"Open it."

She obeys. Jaw drops wide. Tongue lolls out. 

With no warning. I shove my hard member past her lips, straight to the back of her throat in one brutal thrust. She gags hard; throat convulsing around the head, but doesn't pull back even an inch. Instead, her tongue swirls frantically along the underside, trying to please even as she struggles to breathe. Hands clamp my thighs, nails digging in sharp enough to sting.

I grip her head with both hands and start fucking her face.

Deep. Brutal. Merciless strokes. Balls slapping wetly against her chin with every plunge. Tears stream immediately—mascara running in thick black rivers down her flushed cheeks. And to my surprise her throat bulges visibly each time I bury myself to the root. But those exotic mismatched eyes never leave mine—defiant even as she chokes and drools around me.

This sight of her. Neopolitan, the one who's always seemed to be in control now on her knees, throat stuffed full, mascara ruined, taking every punishing inch like it's her goddamn purpose. All of that ignites something savage and possessive in my chest.

I bury to the hilt and hold her there. Nose pressed flush to my pelvis so I can feel how her throat milks me in frantic, rhythmic spasms. Her eyes roll back for a moment.

But she doesn't resist me.

Instead, her nails carve deeper crescents into my thighs—urging me impossibly deeper.

I come with a guttural roar—thick, hot pulses shooting straight down her throat. When the first violent wave ebbs I pull back just enough to let her breath and so she could get a taste. Neo immediately latches onto the sensitive tip, sucking greedily, tongue flicking the tip, lapping every remaining drop like it's her favorite treat.

"Greedy little thing, aren't you?" I rasp, voice completely wrecked. My thumb smears a tear track across her burning cheek.

She pulls away and opens wide again—showing the pearly remnants coating her tongue—then swallows slowly, like it's the main show. Never breaking eye contact with me.

That does it.

Before I can overthink it, I yank her up by her long hair again, ignoring her soft gasp. Her small frame stumbles as I manhandle her, shoving her forward on the couch. I force her to bend over it, her face pressed into the cushions as I kick her legs apart.

A perfect position.

But I won't take her from behind. That would be too easy. Too simple. And Neo, my Neo, deserves more than that. She deserves to be utterly and completely ruined.

With a grunt, I flip her over onto her back, my arms wrapping around her waist as I lift her, her legs automatically wrapping around me for balance. I'm not gentle. I carry her across the room, her small body easily held against mine, and dump her unceremoniously onto the kitchen table. Causing the cheap wood groan under the sudden weight.

Her mismatched eyes are wide now, watching me with a predatory hunger that mirrors my own before she licks her lips very slowly.

She's enjoying this. Of course, she is. Because its Neo.

I shove her thighs up and back—folding that petite body in half until her knees brush her shoulders. Her eager cunt completely exposed—swollen, dripping, fluttering around nothing. Vulnerable in a way that makes something feral snarl deep in my chest.

After positioning myself I drag the head through her burning folds—once, twice, three times—coating myself in her slick until I'm glistening with her. The wet, filthy sounds are obscenely loud in the quiet apartment.

"You wanted this, didn’t you?" My growl. "You’ve got it now."

One brutal, unforgiving thrust.

All the way in.

No preamble. No gentle entry.

Her back bows off the table—silent scream ripping from her throat—as I bottom out, tip battering her cervix hard enough to make her whole body jolt. The table creaks violently beneath us, the legs scraping against the floor.

But there will be no pause or time to adjust. Not even to breathe.

I pull almost all the way out—then slam back in harder. Again. Again. Relentless piston rhythm. Flesh slapping flesh in wet, obscene echoes. Her choked, breathless gasps punctuate each punishing impact. Her perfect tits bounce wildly—frustratingly out of reach while I'm pinning her legs folded.

So I lean down. Chest crushing hers. Teeth find the soft meat of the crook of her neck and sink in—deep enough to break skin. Blood floods my tongue—hot, coppery, intoxicating. She lets out a startled gasp but her welcoming inner walls clamping down around me like a vise was all the confirmation of her approval.

"Mine," I snarl against her skin, the word a primal declaration that seems to hang in the air between us. My hips continue their relentless assault, pounding into her, each thrust hitting that spot deep inside that makes her body tremble.

Her nails rake bloody trenches down my back—deep enough to burn like fire.  But the sharp sting only fuels my desire to go even harder—faster—deeper—each thrust driving her up the table until her head hangs off the edge, hair spilling.

The table protests louder—wood cracking, legs buckling under the violence.

I don't care.

My focus is entirely on her, on the woman pinned beneath me, on the way her body responds to my every touch, my every thrust. On the way her eyes roll back in her head, her mouth agape in a silent scream as I drive her closer and closer to the edge.

One of my hands releases her leg, moving to grip her throat, squeezing just enough to prevent her from breathing.

Her eyes fly open, wide with surprise and a dark excitement. Her hands, which had been clawing at my back, now move to my wrist, not to push me away, instead her nails digging in, encouraging me to go through.

So I tighten my grip. Successfully cutting her air.

The effects are immediate as her body locks up. Her overworked velvety walls flutter violently around me. Hips jerk in frantic, helpless little bucks—chasing the edge even as oxygen deprivation makes her work on me much better than moments ago, almost causing me to finish early but my concentration keeps it in check.

But that couldn’t be said for my woman who shatters.

Her back arches off the table, her whole body convulsing as a powerful orgasm rips through her. Her walls spasm around me, milking me for all I'm worth, and I can feel my own release building, a tidal wave of pleasure threatening to consume me. As she tries to pull me impossibly deeper, milking every inch like she wants to keep me there forever.

The overwhelming sensation causes me to release her throat.

She sucks in one desperate, wheezing gasp.

So I take that moment to one final, bone-jarring thrust—past the cervix, as deep as her tiny body can possibly take—and I explode inside her. Flooding her womb in thick, hot ropes—marking her from the inside out until I can feel the excess leaking around my base, warm and slick.

And that was all the table could endure because with a final, violent creak, the table’s legs snap like dry twigs. Wood splinters. We crash to the floor in a tangle of debris, sweat, and blood.

I land on top—still buried balls-deep—still pulsing the last of my release into her fluttering, overfilled cunt.

For long seconds we just exist—ragged breathing, pounding hearts, the copper tang of blood and the thick musk of sex heavy in the air.

Then small hands push weakly at my chest.

I lever up on shaking arms.

She's utterly wrecked.

Hair a sweaty, tangled disaster clinging to flushed skin. Her mascara down her cheeks. Lips swollen and split. Shoulder bleeding sluggishly where I bit her. Throat already blooming with faint purple rings from my fingers. And more importantly her snatch is swollen, red, leaking my cum in slow, obscene trickles onto the broken wood beneath her.

And despite being this fucked up… Neo is grinning.

The same slow but satisfied grin.

Nails trace the claw-marks she carved into my back—light enough to sting, heavy enough to promise she'll do it again.

"Fuck… Neo," I rasp out.

She doesn't answer.

Just keeps smiling—then wraps those deceptively powerful legs around my waist and flips us with terrifying ease.

My back hits the floor hard. Air punches out of my lungs. As the recent wounds become much clearer.

But that pain becomes secondary as she bites my lower lip, hard enough to cut it making me hiss in pain then licks the fresh blood with a pleased little hum. She pulls back, her tongue darting out to lick any leftover from her lips, her eyes gleaming with a savage satisfaction.

Then she starts to move.

Slow. Deliberate. Hips rolling in filthy, torturous circles. Inner walls squeezing me in rhythmic waves—milking what's left while coaxing me back to hardness. Because she knows I can still go for more.

"Shit—Neo—"

She doesn't stop.

She never stops.

And gods fucking damn it—

I don't really want her to.

---------------------------------------------

Neo and I are on the bed together, sunlight from the window already streaming across us in warm bands of gold. I'm resting against Neo's soft breasts, occasionally squeezing them, because damn they are amazing, while her fingers gently caressing and ruffling my hair while also playing with my ears. And to top it all off, she leans down and presses a soft kiss to the top of my head.

I have my eyes closed, feeling at peace once more. Content. My head is clear with no problems weighing on my mind.

Just this quiet moment.

After a bit, I finally pull away and shift to Neo's lap, turning around so I can see her face. She's smiling down at me, one eyebrow raised in curiosity.

Moments later, pink letters materialize above her head.

'So what happened, kitten?'

I stare at the floating words for a moment before bursting into laughter, covering my eyes with one hand. "You're seriously asking that now?"

Neo just slaps my chest lightly.

'Yes. Now talk. Didn't let you abuse my body to vent for nothing.'

Right… I messed her up.

I think for a while, considering whether to tell her. Before, I wouldn't have wanted to, but the Neo from the past is different from the Neo of now, I guess. She's proven herself trustworthy—mostly. In her own fucked-up way.

So I guess there isn't really a reason why I shouldn't tell her.

"Alright, alright. I went to Beacon yesterday to visit a girl I've been training. Needed to clear my head, have some fun with her, you know?"

The moment the words leave my mouth, Neo's expression shifts. Her eyes widen slightly, fixating on me with an intensity that makes my tail twitch nervously. Her face gets dangerously close to mine, and her smile transforms into a vicious grin.

'Naughty, naughty kitten. Already looking for another pussy?'

I blink, processing that for a second before shrugging. "I mean, yeah? Her name's Jeanne. Pretty cute."

Neo's grin widens impossibly further, her mismatched eyes practically gleaming with manic interest.

'Tell me MORE about this Jeanne~'

"Not much to tell," I say casually, although she has quite the enthusiasm. "Met her months ago—weeks after meeting you, if you want to be specific. She's training to be a Huntress at Beacon but didn't know shit about fighting, so I've been helping her out. She's my woman now."

Neo blinks once. Twice.

'Your woman?'

"Yeah?" I tilt my head, confused by her reaction. "We kissed and hang out. She's mine, I'm hers. That's how it works, right?"

Neo stares at me for a long moment, her mouth slightly open. Then suddenly she grabs my face with both hands, squishing my cheeks together and forcing me to look directly at her. Before I can react, she gives me a quick peck on the lips.

'When did this happen?'

"Uh..." I try to speak, but my words come out muffled from how she's squishing my face. "A couple of weeks ago? And I didn't tell you because you never asked, and well, after THAT day with Miltia, I'd rather keep Jeanne away from you."

Neo's grip tightens slightly, and her expression shifts to something between offended and intrigued.

'Why not?'

"Because you're going to do something to her," I say bluntly once she loosens her grip enough for me to speak clearly. "Don't want you scaring her off or whatever fucked-up thing you'd do."

'Me? Do something?'

I give her a flat look. "You literally fucked Miltia for fun."

I hate myself for allowing that to happen; she was a wreck. I should have stopped her the second Neo kicked her down.

'That was different.'

"How?"

'She overstepped her place, daring to steal what's mine. She doesn’t care about you, she just wanted to get a jab at me.'

I blink at that, then shrug. "Well, technically no? You're better than her. No contest. Miltia was fun, but you're... you."

Ignoring the fucked up parts, yeah that isn’t a lie.

Neo's expression does something complicated—part pleased, part something else I can't quite read. Then she smiles again and pats my head condescendingly.

'And you have to ask permission to fuck a girl so I can be there, remember?'

"Yeah, yeah. But Jeanne is different, so I didn't break your rule." I cross my arms. "She's... I don't know. She's mine in a different way."

It would be nice I admit that much but no, I don’t want to push her.

Neo flicks my forehead, hard.

"Ow! What was that for?"

'You're dumb.'

"What did I do now?" I ask, rubbing the spot where she flicked me.

Neo just shakes her head, then her grin returns—that wicked, mischievous smile that usually means trouble.

'I want to meet her.'

"Absolutely not."

'Why?'

"I just told you why. You're going to do something fucked up to her, and I don't want that." I cross my arms more firmly. "Jeanne's different. She's... I don't know. Good. Normal. Not crazy like you."

'Thank you!'

I roll my eyes at her sarcastic response.

Neo pouts at me, batting her eyelashes in that exaggerated way.

'Please? I promise I'll be NICE~'

"No."

Neo's pout intensifies, and she starts making these pathetic whimpering sounds—completely silent, of course, but her expression sells it. She even adds fake tears gathering in the corners of her eyes for dramatic effect.

I remain unmoved, my expression flat. "That's not going to work."

She tries harder, her bottom lip trembling like she's some kind of kicked puppy.

"Nope."

The fake tears get bigger, more pronounced.

"Not happening."

Then she does something unexpected—she pulls me against her chest and starts petting my head aggressively, her fingers finding my ears and scratching in just the right spots. My tail curls involuntarily, and despite my better judgment, I feel myself starting to relax into her touch.

So I spank her sexy ass get a get a good feel of them, enjoying the supple flesh.

'Just let me meet her ONCE. I'll be good. Promise.'

"Define 'good,'" I mumble against her chest, my voice already losing its edge as she continues the ear scratches that make my brain turn to mush.

'Won't scare her. Won't hurt her. Just want to see what kind of girl caught my kitten's attention~'

I'm quiet for a moment, considering. The ear scratches are really good, and my defenses are definitely weakening. "You hurt Miltia."

'I told you she deserved it. Your Jeanne won't do anything stupid like that, will she?'

"No," I admit. "Jeanne's not like that. She's... honest. Kinda clumsy sometimes."

'Cute~'

"Yeah, she is." I don't even hesitate to agree. "Smart too. In her own way."

Neo's fingers pause in my hair for just a moment before continuing.

'You really like her.'

It's not a question, but I answer anyway. "Yeah. I do."

'Then let me meet her. If she's important to you, I should know her.'

I pull back slightly to look at Neo's face. "You're just going to fuck with her."

'Maybe a little~' Neo's grin turns playful. 'But I won't hurt her. She's yours, and you already told me so it's okay.'

I frown, trying to parse that logic. "How does that work?"

'You're mine. She's yours. Therefore, she's mine too. That's how it works.'

“Uh… Sure?" I say slowly, though I'm not entirely sure myself. Relationships are confusing.

Neo just grins wider and goes back to the ear scratches.

"Fine," I finally concede with a sigh. "But if you do anything..."

'Deal~' 

I grumble under my breath but don't pull away from the comfortable position. "But it will be awhile for that."

'Then I'll wait. Patient like a cat~'

"Funny."

'Yep!'

I just settle more comfortably against her, letting her continue playing with my ears while I think about how this meeting between Neo and Jeanne is inevitably going to be a disaster.

But at least I warned Jeanne that my life is complicated. She can't say I didn't give her fair warning.

"Just... don't be too crazy when you meet her," I mutter.

Neo's response is to pull me closer and press another kiss to the top of my head.

Which isn't really an answer, but with Neo, I've learned to take what I can get.

'So when did you two kiss?'

"Couple weeks ago. In the park." I see no reason to hide it. "Although, fFirst time was at the airport before she left for Beacon, just a quick peck. Second time was when we were hanging out after I punched Yang."

'You PUNCHED someone?' The letters look almost excited.

"Long story. Blonde bitch deserved it."

'I like this story already. Tell me more.'

So I do. I tell her about Yang, about the whole mess with the bike and getting arrested, about Jeanne setting up the meeting so we could talk it out. And the whole mess that it put me.

When I get to the part about punching Yang in the chest, Neo actually claps silently, her whole body shaking with laughter.

"Yeah, felt pretty good," I admit with a smirk. "She took it well though."

'And then you kissed your girlfriend?'

"She's not my—" I start, then stop. "Girl friend? Well, I guess she is my girl friend too, yeah. She is. We kissed too. It was... nice."

'Just nice?'

"Really nice," I correct, feeling my face heat up slightly. "She's soft. Smells good. Tastes sweet."

Neo makes an exaggerated fanning motion like she's overheating from my description.

"Shut up," I mutter, but there's no real heat behind it.

'My kitten is growing up~'

"I’m an adult."

'Doesn't matter. Still my kitten.'

I can't argue with that either, so I just accept my fate and let her continue playing with my ears while the sunlight continues to stream through the window.

Maybe letting Neo meet Jeanne won't be the worst thing in the world.

…Threesome?

Fuck off brain.