[Or: bees, from first kiss to first time. mind the rating and tags, when you click through!]
To say the good news is, Yang’s alive would be such a wild understatement it renders itself meaningless—a word like “good” so inadequate it can’t even begin to encompass the surge of relief and joy that floods through Blake the first time they lock eyes. It’s… overwhelming. Life-giving. A monsoon hitting arid, scorched earth, leaving behind fertile ground in its wake.
That said.
The problem is, Yang makes Blake stupid.
Makes her want… stupid things.
They’ve been on the island almost a full twenty-four hours now, insofar as “hours” are a recognizable thing that happen here. And for most of that time, the thrill and comfort of being reunited was enough to keep Blake’s yearning at bay; the novelty of kissing (!!!) more than enough to sate her desire. It didn’t even take much, really. Letting herself be held; having the privilege of tucking her face into the hollow of Yang’s neck, the bridge of her nose slotting against the cut of Yang’s jaw like two puzzle pieces. She’s never felt anything quite like it in her life—the way everything in her head went completely, blessedly quiet, just for a moment, the first time Yang’s lips touched hers. She spent so long wanting this, imagining what it might be like, and now she has it, and—
And now, instead of being satisfied, she keeps thinking of new things to want. Like—like a glutton.
They’re supposed to be finding a way out of here. Taking stock of their options and getting creative. But as she’s said, Yang makes her stupid, so instead of concentrating on Ruby’s words as she thinks aloud, trying to figure out next steps, the contents of Blake’s brain are just… pure filth. Eyeing the way sweat pools in the divot of Yang’s clavicle under the twin suns, and wondering how Yang would react if Blake were to lick it off.
(All of Blake’s fantasies are like that—so ridiculous, so specific they jump the line past sexy and straight into the realm of the absurd.)
elliesgaymachete
