Title: Turn away
Like a moth to flame, Kirika Yuumura was attracted to darkness.
She and Mireille lived normally now. They ran a bar called Noir in a quiet Japanese town, below their apartment on on a small street corner. Having a French woman as an owner added a hint of exoticism to the business. Soldat, if they knew where they were, did not bother them. Their hands had been clean of blood for years. It was a mundane existence.
Once in a while, Kirika would feel the tendrils of darkness reaching for her, enveloping her, threatening to pull her back to the depths from which she had been born. She felt it now, as they closed up shop for the night.
"What's wrong?" Mireille smiled. "You've gone awfully quiet." When she noticed the black in Kirika's eyes, she stopped smiling. "Kirika," she said loudly.
Kirika kissed her savagely in response, biting down, drawing blood. Mireille fell backwards against the counter top, knocking several glasses to the ground which shattered upon impact. Kirika efficiently tore Mireille's shirt open, and the older woman's ample breasts spilled out.
"Shit," Mireille growled, "that was my favourite shirt." She pivoted her foot under Kirika's body and flipped them over, pushing her weight against the smaller girl and pressing her knee between her legs. Kirika's head flew back as Mireille rocked her knee up against her crotch. Mireille caught Kirika's mouth with her own and kissed her so hard she saw spots in front of her eyes. Kirika's small, strong hands grappled at her breasts, tugged at her nipples, squeezing the flesh as if holding on for dear life. There would be bruises there tomorrow, but Mireille was glad the fingers were not around her neck.
"Give it to me," Kirika gasped, begging. "Mi-rei-yu. Please."
Mireille lifted Kirika onto a bar stool and shoved two fingers inside her tight wetness, thrusting in and out of her as if she was trying to kill her. Kirika squirmed beneath her, rocking in time to her motions, sinking down deeply against her hand. "Harder. Destroy me," she wailed, as if willing Mireille to fuck away the invisible demons in her mind, wrapping her legs around the older woman's waist for leverage.
Mireille buried her face in Kirika's hair. "Turn away," she whispered. "Come back." She kissed Kirika's neck and pressed her teeth into Kirika's jugular, nearly to the point of tearing the skin, feeling the blood pulsing beneath her lips.
Kirika shuddered and came violently, tightening her legs around Mireille until Mirelle thought her spine would break. She held her muscles stiffly, waiting for Kirika to unwind.
"You okay?" Mireille rasped.
"I think so," Kirika blinked, vision clearing. "Sorry."
"Don't apologise," Mireille mumbled, relaxing.
"Thank you for bringing me back."
Falling in love with a once-brainwashed killing machine had its downsides, but it was a small price to pay for peace.