This is the day... The big one. The final countdown. The day of Titans. The one day out of the month -even though it comes around twice a month- where the game goes down! And Vinyl Scratch NEVER LOSES THIS DAY! RAAAH! RAH! RAH! RAH!
...So, yeah. Maybe I should pay attention to what I'm doing. Alright, let's see... This time the limit is set at one-hundred bucks. God... I could buy a year supply of ramen with that... And I bet that's EXACTLY what Octavia's thinking right now! That cheater! Unless she's planning on using her lump of the cash to buy her fancy tuna or-or-or some brie! That brie-tuna eatin' mother-fucker... I wish I could just see what's buying so I could cheat! But, nooooo... "Rule number four: No shopping at the same place". Cheep. Well, forget that for now...
Hm? Gah! Forgot you were there. What'm I doing? Simple... Well, simple because I've been doing it for three years. It'll probably be a little harder for a new player to understand. I'll try and explain. See, every two weeks, Tavi and I go grocery shopping. BUT! We don't go together, and we don't tell the other what we're getting. Why? Well, because when we used to shop together, we'd always fight over this or that. After we were banned from the third store, we came up with another way for us to shop, get food, and still be satisfied with what we got in the end.
It works a little something like this... Say, I buy a piece of brie cheese. Now, I hate this crud. Smells bad, looks moldy, and it feels like chalk to me. But Octavia LOVES the stuff. So, I buy it for her. OH! But wait, when we get home, I find out Octavia didn't get any of her fancy-smelly-bird-crap cheese. Now, the fun starts... You see, our fridge and closety-thing-that-holds-food (panty or something) are split down the middle. One side for me, one side for Octavia... And we have a little middle shelf in both for when someone gives us something to share. We call that "the battleground", 'cause it's anyone's game to have. Anyway, whatever we buy at the store goes onto OUR side of the fridge and whatever-it's-called. Except, before anything gets put away, we can wager up whatever we have that the other person doesn't have.
But we don't wager other foods; that'd be corny and boring... Corning. Hm... That sounds like something sexual, but it's not really coming to me at the moment. I'll come back to that later... Where was I? Right, right. Wagers. You can bet any food the other person doesn't have in exchange for the truth. The bigger you wager, the bigger truth you can ask. So, let's say I wager the brie stuff. Octavia loves it, so that's a pretty big wager on her. With that, I could ask -I don't know- how often did she flick the bean at work. And, if she wants the brie, she's gotta talk! We just go on the honor system for lying... If you can't trust your food-trading buddy, who can you trust?
That's how the game works. Actually pretty simple when you get right down to it. Now, part of the game is buying for yourself as much as you're gonna buy for the other person. Like, I need to stock up on ramen, because Octavia knows that's an easy shot against me. But, if I buy too many of them, I'm not gonna have enough for something juicy to pull out on Octavia. So it gets kinda stressin'. Buuuuut... It's all in good fun, ya'know? No hard feelings, no digging up dirt, no telling lies. It's just for fun... And to get a little fun out of something as boring as shopping...
Now then... Cheese steak, or cheese whip? Choices...
It is rather refreshing, isn't it? The smell of the crisp vegetables; the hot, wafting air of the summer afternoon; and even the lively chatter of people doing business. This is why I enjoy grocery shopping on a Sunday. The farmers' market is in full swing. Nothing can really compare to a sun-kissed tomato or a glazed doughnut that had the chance to bake under the sun after being taken out of the oven. It simply makes me tingle from my nose to my toes, if I had to be honest. I'm positive that Vinyl is at this moment shopping in some processed, bleach-white convenience store. A place where you can buy a dog in the same aisle you'd buy a hot-dog.
Every time she tries to beat me at this game, and every week... Every week she strikes me to my knees. I admit, I do have my weaknesses. Weaknesses I try to avoid every shopping day for my own health and well-being. And every shopping day she exploits those weaknesses to her advantage... I do so love a person who can be so tactical at times. Mmmm... M-Moving on. Fortune may be on my side this time, however. It seems some farmers from the orient have come to peddle their exotic ingredients, recipes, and the sort. Which, I can very well use to my advantage...
Yes... There are a few things I'd like to pry out from Vinyl's secretive lips tonight. Things that she'd only relent with the allure of her beloved noodles and meat. I may have to strengthen my deals with promises that I'll cook for her... But, we'll cross that road when it comes to it. Let's see if I procured all that I need before I forget something...
Yes... Yes that should cover all of my primary necessities. And these should prove to be useful tools in the coming duel with Vinyl. Know your enemy as well as you know yourself... That is the code of war. And this is indeed war. Much like the mall during the holiday rush; only this war has far less bloodshed... And slightly more nudity and depravity. But that's usually calculated in when my Vinyl worms her way into any plans. Not that I mind.
After all... These shopping trips always end in the bedroom come the end of the night. It's tradition. And as Vinyl would remind anyone, I never break tradition... Particularly the traditions I so richly enjoy... Ehem. Off I go.
Tick-tock. The familiar cat that hung in the kitchen of the dark apartment clicked at each second passing by. Small cracks ran through the glass cover of the normality clock, each crack being mended over by an ample amount of clear tape in layers. One of the cat's eyes was now entirely missing, replaced by an eye-patch that had a skull and crossbones embroidered on it. Still, the clock ticked at each second, the three hands moving as they always did to tick away at the passing moments until the masters came home. The ticks and tocks were joined for one second by the sudden swing and bang of the front door being nearly knocked off its hinges to welcome in the two residents of the abode; both of which carried multiple bags in their labored arms. Though he was always smiling, the cat seemed to smile a little wider when the lights of the apartment clicked on and Vinyl threw her bags onto the counter.
Octavia soon joined in Vinyl's actions and gently let her bags fall against the kitchen counter. The cellist brushed off the cusps of her lapel, which had gathered a bit of dirt from the burlap farming bags she brought home while Vinyl messed with the several paper bags she had lugged all the way home. Octavia gave a small chuckle as she took a seat on one side of the counter, rolling her fingers against the cool surface of the ivory counter. "Paper bags?" She playfully quirked a brow at her lover, who only smirked back at her with a bright look in her eyes.
Vinyl flopped back onto a stool and swung herself to face Octavia on the other side of the counter, one hand on the bag and the other on the lid of the seat she herself sat on. "Happy Ration Day, baby!"
The two exchanged a quick but fiery glare before combat; fearless, energetic red eyes meeting for a momentary clash with cool, composed violet eyes. "Let's begin..."
Rule Number One: All sales are final, and thus the receipt must be discarded upon vacating whatever facility it originated from.
Rule Number Two: What items you end the night with will remain your take for the duration between "Ration Days".
Rule Number Three: No hittin' below the belt. You know exactly what that means. No I'm not being defensive. I'm just bringing it up so we don't argue about it later. How is it suspicious I'd put it on the table? It works both ways! No, I'm not accusing you of anything! I'm just putting it out there so there's no hard feelings, I didn't expect an inquisition about wanting it put on the list! Are you writing this all down?
Rule Number Four: No shopping at the same place.
Rule Number Five: No further rules.
Save only for the rhythmic 'tick-tock-tick-tock' of the gaudy cat clock overseeing what was to proceed, both dining room and kitchen alike fell to a hush. Yet, the air was electric as the two combatants locked eyes from across the ivory counter; their collective troves close at hand for the ensuing battle. Amethyst to ruby, the eyes of two seasoned veterans exchanged all too familiar intents. Indignation, pride, an undertone of lust on one side, a bemused eyeroll from the other. The foreplay they were accustomed to before their familiar bouts, certainly.
While both could have certainly stared intently into the other for days on end, most inevitably ending in an impassioned tryst that would encompass every surface leading to one of their rooms (Octavia's if she had any pull over it); but that wasn't in the spirit of Ration Day! This... Was far more important. Vinyl broke the contact as she shifted over to her paper bags, riffling through it for her first bit of ammo to the night. Octavia was made to watch in a cautious curiosity as her lover looked for something that would knock her designer heels off!
"Lets keep it... cas'..." Vinyl purred out her word, assured she would be the cat lording over the mouse as she produced her first finding: coco powder.
The cheek. Cellist lips curved to a wounded grimace, only serving to embolden the Cheshire-Vinyl. How much powder did she have left in the jar? Enough for a cake? Barely for a scone? If she went to go take stock, she'd show her hand in how important the powder truly was to her... But if she took it and had a surplus... Vinyl would have an excuse to ask for freshly baked cookies! The good ones with chocolate in every bite. The special ones Octavia had said "it's a lot of ingredients. I cannot simply make them without a surplus"... The sly fox. She was caught between a scone and a greedy place... And yet.
"...Name your price," it was too much of a gamble to miss out on. She kept her tone smooth, measured, hoping to not give way that she was kicking herself for not checking her supply beforehand.
"Do you wuv me?" Oddly colored eyelashes batted 'cutely' at Octavia as Vinyl played up her question.
Oh, so this is the game we shall be playing? It was an odd feelings, wanting to reach across a counter to both slap someone out of what little sense they had as well as kiss their ridiculous 'pouting' lips. Instead, Octavia decided for the more dignified approach of answering the court jester as she reached over to collect her winnings. "Oh, so very, very much, Vinyl. With all that I am, and all that I ever aim to be."
Even though Octavia's words dripped with playful sarcasm, it was Octavia-brand sarcasm. Vinyl snickered to herself as she sloped back into her chair. "D'awww, I feel all the warm and fuzzies over here. I'm half tempted to end it here. All I want is your love," Vinyl spun around on the baring of the seat, so content with herself already.
In those moments, Vinyl was the picture of youthful exuberance. So pleased. So happy. So very much in the need of a smack down to reality. One that her dearly-beloved delivered with a single fluid motion. Octavia's hand had not slipped into her musty-old farmer's market sack for a second before it returned with righteous triumph. A thunderous crash so far as Octavia felt erupted through the kitchen as she presented her own weapon against Vinyl.
At once, the jubilation of the Scratch came to an end and the poor DJ was forced to bare witness to Octavia's find: a case of home-made pasta noodles. The tramp! The unrelenting fiend! Vinyl could have broken down there, bawling her poor little eyes out. How could she forget to buy packaged spaghetti? But, alas, even if she had been given the foresight... These were home-made. From the mark on the box, it must have been that hot chick with the floofy hair who comes to the market once a week. Damn Octavia, and damn that floofy-haired fiend!
"...I neeeeeeeed it..." Vinyl flopped onto the counter with outstretched hands, already relinquishing herself to defeat.
"'Need' is a word holding a great deal of gravity, Vinyl..." her tone was as teasing as it was sultry, rolling each syllable with the intent to torment her cornered adversary, "Supply should most definitely meet the demand... when and where was the last place you 'relieved' yourself?"
Tick-tock. Vinyl remained sprawled against the counter in her facedown status for a good moment, letting the cat's toying clicks treat the tension for as long as she could. With a snatch, the fallen warrior claimed her ration of noodles and pulled her form up to a proper stand; a cheesy smirk plastered on her face.
"It's a story, let me tell you," Octavia flittered her wrist in Vinyl's direction, more than eager to hear this wild tale, "It was yesterday. Aaaaand… It was in the first floor bathroom at gramps' place."
She asked to hear the truth, so she had no right to facepalm at the admission. However, Octavia could afford herself one luxury as she watched Vinyl tuck her noodles away: "Why?"
"He was in a meeting, I didn't wanna go too far if he finished early... What more can you do to pass time than the ol' bean wiggle?" It was crass... But she wasn't wrong.
"I would imagine there were magazines you could have read."
"Psh, yeah. Golfing For Grannies, that's gonna put honey in the pot..." Vinyl's mocking tone brought a simple smile to her lover, "Now, let's see here..." With a fumble, Vinyl rooted through her paper bags once more, looking for something that would give Octavia rightful returns for the noodle play.
The grace of which Vinyl presented the moldy piece of cheese was left to be desired, but the sight of it piqued Octavia's interest. A single black brow twitched at the mere sight of the cut of brie, a motion Octavia wished to keep unnoticed. "Brie, is it? My... One has to wonder how much that set you back. Would seem you are losing your edge at this, Miss Scratch," taunts and playing coy was Octavia's natural defense on the battlefield.
The proud woman's words did not fall on deaf ears---despite how often the woman would blast God-knows what into her own ears ad nauseam---as Vinyl reached for her jacket. With a flourish, Octavia had several scraps of loose paper waved in her perfectly poised visage. "Coupons, baby. Been cutting them for weeks! Found a sweet one a month ago for 50% off," such a mundane thing to be a braggart over, but Vinyl flaunted it like she presented the Golden Ticket to a chocolate factory.
"Thrifty shopping and frugal management? You've never looked more sexy to me..." Octavia leaned over the counter, playing a little wink at Vinyl.
"Never? What about that time I dressed like an elf?"
"Honey, that was during Easter."
"Still hot though."
"Always," for the briefest moment, a ceasefire.
Both parties came to an agreement that in that moment, they'd share in a quick but welcomed kiss as they met over the counter. Vinyl herself had to stand on her tiptoes and balance on the bars of her seat to make the full distance. But, to meet Octavia's lips, it was always worth the extra mile; even as her beloved backed away and let her fall flat on her chest against the hard countertop. In the moment Octavia's couldn't help but giggle as Vinyl sprawled almost her entire form wide across the counter with a 'thud'.
"Gah! I think I sprained my tit!" Vinyl hissed out, unable to stop herself from letting her own laugh out over her stumble.
"Poor thing... I suppose that means I can just..." Not so subtly, Octavia reached over her fallen foe to collect the block of brie. Not surprising to her, Vinyl miraculously found the strength to pull herself back to her seat as well as pull the brick away from Octavia's clutches. "Seeing as I cannot simply have it, you have me at your mercy."
"If you want this smelly slab, answer me this... No shame, no harm, no foul, just straight up honesty..." Vinyl let the moment hang to build up that dramatic tension, aided by the rhythmic tick-tock punctuating the dead air, "If you could organize a three-way, who would you bring in?"
"Anyone at all?" Octavia pressed without a hint of a pause.
"Well I'd prefer someone I could get on the phone or something sometime," joked Vinyl in response, though there was a distinct 'Vinyl way' about it that clued Octavia in that in may not always be a joke.
"It would be the same, nevertheless. Miss Lulamoon," taking her opportunity as Vinyl was left reeling from her matter-of-fact answer, Octavia pilfered the brick of cheese.
"Trixie? I thought you'd go with Twilight or even Lyra," bewildered didn't even begin to describe Vinyl in that moment; but not entirely opposed to the idea.
"By social obligation, I have to face Twilight often when I peruse her library. Having had an ---albeit not entirely unconsidered--- tryst involving her may make any future visits... difficult. The same would roughly apply to our Lyra as well... That and the only way I could see the suggestion being met would be to include Bon Bon as well. Which, upon that point, would be far too much carnal indulgence for me. Miss Lulamoon on the other hand...? We have little social obligations to her, with no mention to how personal she tends to be," Octavia's response was nearly practiced in how ready she was to exposit her exact reasoning to Vinyl, "That all said, outside of social ques and status quo… Trixie is by far our most sensuous acquaintance on the eyes."
"I'll ask if she's down next time she's in town," Vinyl stuck her tongue out with a wink, both knowing full well that conversation would never come. It was rare Trixie ever came into town; rarer still that she came into town for any other reason but to harass Twilight's residence for one reason or another.
"I await with bated breath. Now... I do believe the time of dancing around with paltry offerings has come to an end," Octavia collected her Pièce De Résistance from her scruffy sack.
She didn't require cumulative victories over Vinyl, merely only a single airstrike of substantial force that would leave the bright eyed girl reeling. "Ration Day" was more than simply an arbitrary and roundabout way of grocery shopping and fishing embarrassing questions out of your better half. It was about bringing Vinyl to her knees and shaming her into total annihilation! In the most loving way. A gestured furthered as they both bore witness to this grand showing: a pre-packaged bento box with no discerning markings along the outside.
Tick... Tock... The incessant clicks of each occupied second were distant thrums of an ethereal sort as Vinyl sat there eying the indescript box. The young DJ rolled her knuckles against her jawline as she pondered upon her next step, all but pleasing Octavia to no end.
A box can be anything... It can even be a box of shrimp or something! But, no... No-no-no-no, hah! That's what she wants me to think! She's bluffing. This thing's empty. Or-or it's filled with fuckin' cashews. Wait, who would fill a bento box with cashews? Looks like it's never been opened... Unless she had them reseal it after getting it filled with guacamole! No... That's too much work to put in for a bit. Unless that's what she WANTS me to think!
The raging war just beneath the surface of Vinyl's eyes was clear as day to Octavia as she watched the other woman twitch one eye, flex her fingers, and nibble at her bottom lip. She was truly adorable when she got like this. A conclusion had to be reached, and as uncertain as she was about what could possibly be in the box... Vinyl was certain she did not want Octavia to have it.
"Alright! Your damn mystery box wins! I want it noooooow!" Pleading fingers splayed in and out towards the glorious mystery box much to Octavia's delight.
"Not so fast," Octavia mockingly tugged the box just out of Vinyl's reach as she wagged a disapproving finger at the mewling child, "If you want this box... You will need to answer a deeply personal inquiry. Since you seem to want it so desperately."
Curse impulse control and Vinyl's distinct lack of one. The poor creature receded into her chair with a slump, prepared to accept what would surely be a devastating attack. For her part, Octavia mauled over her options; this was too soft, that one's too weak, another won't end this the way she desired. A plethora of options spread out before her eyes, and her lips curled to a devious smirk that displayed her pristine teeth as a simple idea made itself known.
"Miss Scratch, would you rather continue our bimonthly bout in hopes of catching me off kilter, thus claiming a victory... Or admit defeat in exchange of ravishing me for the rest of the night?" Octavia's tone drifted as sultry as ever to Vinyl's ears, pinpricks spiking along her every nerve.
"I mean, you know I love banging it out with you. But I think--" every word caught in Vinyl's throat as if the life was sucked right from her very being as she watched a familiar display, but not one that ever ceased to disarm her.
With a practiced ease and effortless flourish, Octavia slid one hand to the line of her lapel and unfastened a series of gilded buttons. In the display, the cellist's suitcoat slumped off her slender form with ease, leaving Octavia in a simple frilled blouse; the crest of her breasts just peaking enough from the neckline that Vinyl could see an almost unabashed view.
"...Call it a draw?" Vinyl managed to squeak out her attempt at a deal.
As if playing at every emotion Vinyl felt in that moment, the proud cellist hooked her index finger against the curve of her collar to tug it down just a few inches more to treat Vinyl to a sight she had seen ten times over but continued to make her weak. "Afraid not, Vinyl..." her words were taunting and cruel, much like the way she sauntered away from the counter and around the bend leading to her own room.
Vinyl kept her eyes glued to Octavia at every step, watching her hips sway one way, sashay the other in a manner that betrayed every notion of how proper she truly was. Watching the other woman disappear into her room, Vinyl hardened herself. No, she's trying to bate you! You can't just through in the towel over-- Out from the corner of Vinyl's eye, she saw the familiar frilled blouse flop down on the floor as it was tossed from the nearby room.
"...Okay you win," Vinyl remarked with little hesitation after that final display of goading.
In a flash of blue, Vinyl leapt from her chair and followed in toe with her victorious lover. With a slam of the door, the groceries were left to sit on the counter for some time. The winnings would be collected another time, the victory gloated over, and the mystery box's contents revealed; all in due course. In the battle of Ration Day, all things are fair, and the rules are hardly ever adhered to. For who could say no to someone so tactful and beautiful?
Author's Note
And I promise... next chapter? It's gonna be here a LOT sooner.
It's not giving up when your showed an absolute knockout hand. Gotta know when to fold, hold, and be bold. Know when you're outgunned—look you were there, you saw it. We all got weaknesses, don't judge me. Cops got doughnuts, nerds got books, I got a sexy musician that knows how to play me like a fiddle. Or would it be cello? Whatever. Point being...!
It was a knockout hand, and I'm sick-sick puppy for a knockout like her. She was perfectly crafted by I-Don't-Know-What to just knock me off my senses. And you know what? I don't mind one bit. Who would?
A victory achieved by whatever measure is still regarded as a victory. One must apply all that they are even in the most trivial of confrontations. This however is no trivial confrontation by any means. Ration Day is the panicle of wits and guile—of which my adversary possesses much to her chagrin. To that end, it is only apt that I apply what I know of...
...Is it a crime that I simply wanted to have sex with my partner? I enjoy our diversions of play and little courtship rituals. But there are occasions... When I simply get lost in those eyes and I... Well... Who wouldn't?
Should anyone be asked in passing in the city 'what sort of lovers those two musicians were?', it would be no surprise or secret that they'd be answered with 'heavy', 'heated', 'scandalous', perhaps even 'vigorous'. Vinyl and Octavia made no secret of their passion for one another wherever they ventured; friends and passersby could figure so much at a glance. In spite of one half's insistence upon the veneer of decorum in most all instances, that desire would always pale against the luster of her desires for her partner. The two interlocked at most hours of the day in one manner or another across town, it was to be expected that the idea of them being quite thorough in their affairs would reach a collective belief amongst those that saw them.
Shock of shocks perhaps then that tonight, like most any night, they came together with almost tender passion rather than ravenous lust.
The trail of garments was made of few, but Vinyl needed little to follow to locate her desired treasure tucked away within the darkened room. A knot found purchase in the woman's throat as she took note of the lithe form framed gracefully by the thin moonlight; a stunning form situated upon the plush of her own mattress with knees curled beneath her. How many times had Vinyl seen that same such sight? Scores of scores not counting her numerous dreams involving the selfsame image. To dream of what she had already had? It was always a reminder that she had reached the uppermost peeks of living, and she was eternally grateful for that.
Somehow without fail Vinyl felt lost in those moments as she drew closer to Octavia—posed and styled like an olive skinned goddess of moon just waiting for her most devoted to join with her. There was just something about her that just took all the bravado from Vinyl without fail. What could it be? How bottomless her love for Octavia was? The deep respect Vinyl had for Octavia's wit and tenacity while still keeping an elegant strength? Or just her deep gratitude thumping against her chest over being so blessed to not have to share this with anyone? Well, unless Trixie decides to pick up the phone some time and take her up on that three-way idea, at least.
"Why do you always gotta play so unfair...?" Vinyl summoned up her confidence once again as she lofted one palm up from her side to nestle comfortably upon the cellist's bare breast, which elected a sharp inhale between clenched teeth from Octavia, "...these are unfair..."
Vinyl could feel the quivers through Octavia's core at the mere contact, which served to embolden her to apply the same attention to the other gentle mound. Her palms rolled into the soft globes, taking care to just-so brush the perked nipples of her lover with each rolling pass. A symphony had always been Octavia's favorite form of music; where all pieces moved as one to produce the feast of sounds and splendor. Yet for Vinyl, the symphony of Octavia's hitching breaths, labored exhales, and flexing nerves tossing the sheets beneath her was a song no one in the world could ever hold a candle to. At once she latched her lips to the exposed nook of Octavia's neck, nestling into the perfectly contour to let her lips play at the woman's shambling nerves.
"Not fair at all..." Octavia mewled out, her heated tones betraying her play of dissatisfaction. Her own hands worthlessly padded at Vinyl's own form, trying to pay onto the musician attention in kind, only to meet the frustrating resistance of clothing.
The pitiable effort was enough to pull Vinyl back into the moment beyond feasting on Octavia's every sensation. In the manner one would take removing themselves from the finest of splendors, Vinyl bemoaned even the briefest moment without the carnal contact with Octavia. A quick peck of a kiss upon Vinyl's lips however as she drew back however was twice the motivation she needed to even the playing field... for now at least. She would need far more kisses to make up for the lost time—which without fail the cellist would pay her back in spades.
The elegant mystique and belying class that Octavia displayed with her suitcoat and its subsequent removal amidst her seductive display was distinctly lacking with Vinyl's tank top; though Octavia remained transfixed at even the most subtle of motions the DJ displayed amidst her own strip. An honest beauty, unabashed with who she is and what she wants was all Octavia could ever think of when Vinyl wriggled herself free of her clothing. Even before Vinyl could fully pull her shirt up over her own head, Octavia latched herself lips first to the not exposed mound. Vinyl nearly topped rear over head as Octavia pounced upon her, lavishing tongue and lips alike over her darkened areolas.
She sucked a hot breath in sharply while letting her top flitter down to the floor below. Normally Octavia was not one for a mess... But they could clean it later. For now, there were far more pressing matters at hand. Namely pressing more longingly into one another and allow lovers' hands grace over every inch of the other. For a moment both grew restless—breathless—as they peeled into one another; a longing kiss upon quivering lips, fingers tracing over every feature of the other's soft visage as if it were their last, palms slipping low to knead over heaving breasts desiring only the other's touch; at least until Trixie decided to pick up that phone and agree to that three-way, of course.
"Fair enough now?" Octavia asked between lavishing kiss after kiss down her lover's neck.
"Almost... I remember someone saying something about 'ravishing'? Which..." Vinyl pointedly maneuvered her hands low, far and far until she could hitch both hands against both sides of Octavia's inner thighs and their creamy-tone, "Really only starts when I'm firmly here."
The cellist nearly squeaked at the brash contact, though cooed as digits began to massage the inner contours of her thighs, already stirring a warmth just within their reach. "Mmmm, why must you be so...?" Seemingly at a loss for the word—brutish, childish, abrasive, uncouth?—Octavia craned herself lower, sashaying her lovely form comfortably so into the caress of her mattress.
"Perfect?" Vinyl smirked a cheshire-grin while her palms moved to open the space of Octavia's legs ever wider, meeting no resistance at all.
"Yes... Perfect in every way..." Octavia relented, not a hint of sarcasm in her loving voice.
Before Vinyl was what Ration Day was all about at the end of it all. There was the whole affair of trading foods, making shopping a palatable ordeal, an excuse to ask probing questions with a comfortable environment, and of course the somewhat domestic feeling of just being a quirky couple. All of that was wonderful in their own rights. But the evening would always lead to the same conclusion, though the point at which it was held was another part of the game to be sure. In the end however, it would be here, Octavia's legs parted wide with no care for modesty with present company—one who would see her only as her classy, brilliant, and put together partner—that the timely Ration Day would meet its climactic end yet again.
Where Vinyl's palms would slide up and away from along their path towards her lover's core, she would lavish a kiss into the creamy warmth of Octavia's inner thigh—inch by agonizing inch. A hitch in the throat that melted into a trembling heave; each brush—each kiss—more electrifying than the last. No delectable treat or gourmet meal could ever curl Octavia's nerve quite so... Though admission of that would spoil the whole game. And Octavia relished in the game... slightly less than this, of course.
The flex of Octavia's core followed by rapturous groans was all the woman could find herself to do as warm lips embraced over her slicked core. Vinyl counted there with one lap, than another, marking off each climax Octavia could not stave off. Each wave bore down against Vinyl all too eager to ride them along with her tongue firmly flexed inside the tensing cannel. Even as the initial spasms departed, Octavia remained under assault by an all too eager partner threatening to unravel her from her sex and on.
"N-No... fair...!" Octavia barely gasped out, face beat with sweat glistening against the dim night light. Vinyl barely crested her own eyes over the carnal pit she continued her tongue play against, her own visage glistening with Octavia's nectar, "I want--NEED to as well."
Who in their right mind would ever consider saying no to that? With some great effort and difficult finagling—Vinyl refusing to relent her position squarely within Octavia's drooling cunny for even a moment—the musician managed to swing her own form up and over Octavia's sweat laden body. A cool sensation breathed between them as the full embrace of their skins touched; chests nestling into the other's upper core and offering a tense plush to the other. But, more importantly for Octavia, with Vinyl's knees locked to either side of her head, the full display of the DJ's own moistened pussy presented itself to her; which she more than eagerly took advantage of.
Her lower lip bucked at Vinyl's hood, sending the woman into her own sharp intakes of air and restless moans, which in turn fed directly back into Octavia's own sex. At once, a new symphony struck up as one fed into the other; a flex elected a trilling moan upon the other, and a swift flex of a tongue against familiar taut nerves brought the other to grasp firmly into whatever carnal flesh they could grasp against the other—thighs, ass, hips; threatening to leave marks as nails raked and slipped against the other's aching form. A song of lustful, reciprocal love for only the other.
Despite their difference in profession and musical preferences: this was a song they both loved to dance to. One only the other was allowed to see... Until Trixie decided to pick up that phone and agree to that three-way.
Hours could bleed by, the day of Rations so far behind that it could threaten to freshness of some provisions. But in this moment, nothing of the sort could ever matter. In perfect rhythm with the other, giving the other the special care the other needed: off beat flicks and tender strokes down the labia for Octavia, feverish clasps of the lips over every inch for Vinyl. It's all in the effort for that one final high note that filled the room and threatened to alert a neighbor or two. Relenting into the other and falling limp upon one another with contentment oozing through them.
Vinyl has to be quick of her mind even after plummeting through one orgasm after the other to shimmy herself to the side so as not to fully bury Octavia beneath her tired body. Worse ways to go Octavia may argue, but the view after was well worth not meeting that end. Even in the dim moonlight, even drunken on post coital aftershocks, Octavia could still find herself looking at Vinyl clear as day with the utmost love.
Carefully, the cellist nestles herself into the warmth of her lover and curls her form all the more into her. She could tell her that it was amazing, that she hopes she gets her senses back soon for another go... But that can always wait. Her need to be close to Vinyl, hair amess cradling tight into the woman's chest? That needed to be fulfilled now.
With what little strength Vinyl herself could muster, she draped her arm over Octavia's nuzzling body, almost afraid she might scamper off if she didn't get locked down right there at her side. She was breathless, but that would pass... It always did.
Another successful Ration Day was now in the books... Even if Vinyl still laid there, a single string of her mind still thinking what exactly was in that box...
A mystery for another day. Whatever it was, it couldn't compare to a successful Ration Day.
