Me in You, You in Me

The retreating figure didn’t quite scuttle or run, but they certainly didn’t stride, either. Adagio remained on her doorstep watching them go, arms crossed, expression hard, holding her ground as long as they remained in sight. She still clutched the petition, hidden beneath her arms. ‘A subversive and immoral influence on our children,’ indeed.

Had any of the three of them ever even spoken to a child, in all the time they’d lived there? What reason could they possibly have for doing so? She barely even noticed them. So like humans to assume they were the centre of everyone else’s thoughts!

Now alone, with no more weasel-faced neighbours to be seen, Adagio backed up through the front door, giving the street a final glare as she went, and surreptitiously slipping the petition into the pocket of her jeans. No point letting anyone who might be spying from a kitchen window know that the ground she stood on perhaps wasn't as solid as she’d implied.

Could the petitioners really get the police involved, as they’d claimed, and as she’d laughed off? She’d been aiming for ‘no nonsense,’ but what if her rebuke had been too stern? What would the penalty be, if she’d been judged to have gone too far?

Once, her voicing her displeasure would have been met with an ocean of apologies. On good days, even human sacrifices. Now, she had to act tough just to keep the roof over their heads, and she wasn’t even sure if she could back it up – or would be allowed to.

Stepping back inside, she closed the front door quickly and firmly. Not slammed – she was strong and righteously angry, not a teenager throwing a tantrum – but nonetheless shut with an air of finality. The anger by no means drained out of her, but now that the situation was done with, it didn’t hold her upright, either. Turning her back to the door, she sank back against it, sagging with her legs propping her up.

The fucking nerve of them…! She snorted. She closed her eyes and tipped her head back against the sturdy wood behind her, not liking the idea of suppressing her rage. That would mean she was just taking it, letting the world push her as it wanted to, without her making a fuss. But an outburst would be so undignified. Indeed, even the phrasing – making a fuss – suggested the behaviour of an infant. Of course it does. Behavioural codes were made by cowards, those who deemed that adults allowing themselves to be stepped on without complaint was the mature response.

Something pulled at her waist, and she broke her closed-eye reprieve from the world to see Sonata kneeling on the floor in front of her, quickly and efficiently unbuttoning Adagio’s jeans. With barely two seconds having passed since the door closed, Sonata must have been waiting behind it, out of sight, until Adagio was done with her conversation defending their home from the doorstep.

Another second and Sonata had drawn the front of Adagio’s jeans down just enough, darted a hand inside and tugged the soft yellow cock from where it had been sleeping flaccid in her tiny panties, forgotten in the morning’s argument. In one smooth motion, Sonata dove her face into Adagio’s crotch, determinedly pushing as much of Adagio’s cock into her mouth as she could. Which, in that limp, unaroused state, meant all of it with no trouble at all.

As always, Sonata’s mouth felt inviting, and warmth seemed to radiate through Adagio crotch-first. Her gritted teeth relaxed their pressure, and she dropped her head back to the door again with a sigh, hitting it slightly harder than she’d intended.

No. No, a sigh meant she was accepting doing nothing about her fury, swallowing it much as Sonata was eagerly swallowing her at that very moment. And that felt like backing down, even though she knew she’d won the confrontation. A low growl came from her throat, the response from the parts of her body her mind felt firmly in control of. And almost totally disconnected from how she felt herself hardening in Sonata’s mouth, flesh becoming firmer beneath the caring ministrations, engorging as Sonata swept her tongue around the whole half-hard length again and again.

She didn’t know if Sonata’s plan was to soothe her or give her an outlet through hatefucking, but Adagio detested the thought of being distracted. A distant part of her mind said there wouldn’t be a positive use for keeping hold of her anger, and that she’d either waste the day fuming to herself or let her temper find a way to make things worse.

And she loathed that she apparently needed distracting, or calming, and was seen as not being able to control her own emotions – that she, the manipulator who could twist any situation as she liked, was allegedly that fucking easy to read – and that the two people who acted responsible for her in that capacity were her damned minions.

Glancing down again, she found Sonata looking up at her, nose still pressed into her abdomen, even though Adagio could feel herself now sporting a full, meaty erection, throbbing while lodged in Sonata’s airways. No choking sounds escaped Sonata’s mouth, it being entirely given over in purpose to providing a home for Adagio’s cock.

Sonata had managed at some point to shed her silky white kimono, too, it now lying around her feet, and knelt deepthroating Adagio while wearing not a stitch. Sonata did have fucking fantastic tits, Adagio sighed, contentedly taking in the sumptuously-curved view. And Sonata’s mouth was to die for – Aria usually fought back, which was delightful in its own way, but Sonata gave everything she had to servicing a cock waved in front of her face like it was the only thing that mattered to her in the world. She really was a very good girl, and having her in the house was a luxury Adagio wouldn’t want to go without.

Catching herself thinking nice things about either of the other two was enough to make her glower at the best of times, but when one of them was at that moment engaged in the act of distracting her, trying to change her mood, then Adagio’s renewed fires of indignation burned into those good feelings and tried to scour them away.

Was this what she was reduced to? Needing to be sucked off just so she wouldn’t smash all their lives beyond repair in her irritation with the shit they had to deal with now? Stuck in a world of humans, no longer able to fob them off with magic but sometimes actually having to engage with them, playing by their rules even as they tried to shaft her.

Her fingers tensed into claws at her sides, nails digging into the door behind her. Which would ruin the gloss on them, of course, because maintaining power and beauty together were sometimes almost mutually-exclusive in the vile, stupid society people had built, which she now had no choice but to live among.

And worse by far, she’d internalised some of it, too long exposed to their filth. Outbursts really did seem immature to her, for all she understood the reasons for it and resented them. The poison had achieved saturation, altered her ideas of normal in ways she couldn’t undo. Even before losing their magic, over time the humans had won, corrupting her siren worldview just as surely as if their culture had been smeared on the strife she’d been eating.

And now she was stuck there – all three of them were stuck there – existing among them as if no different to them, the disguise of centuries now made real.

A tiny whimper made her look down again, and Adagio blinked at the sight. She found herself facefucking Sonata, a fist in her ponytail tight enough to practically pull the hairs from her head, hammering Sonata’s face down onto her cock and pulling it back up again as fast as she could.

When had that started? How had she missed the smack of her balls against Sonata’s chin each time, so hard it stung, and not felt the pressure and temperature on her cock changing rhythmically from the open air to the tight confines of Sonata’s hot throat? Sonata’s chest heaved as she gulped down air whenever she could, streaked with the thick saliva spread around her mouth and dangling from her chin, and tears leaked from her eyes as she continued to gaze up at Adagio, wincing each time the hand in her hair squeezed tighter.

It was genuinely impossible to tell from Sonata’s expression if she was pleading for mercy or for more.

Adagio’s time spent in the throes of debauchery must have added up to decades if put together, perhaps centuries, but still, she observed Sonata in quietly stunned silence, never faltering in how she plunged Sonata’s mouth onto her thick cock, watching it distend her neck each time it slammed in. Wow, but the girl was a machine. One whimper, in all that time, which her continued dedication showed no admission of.

“Yeah, ok then,” Adagio told her wearily, “let’s get you upstairs.” She didn’t relish the prospect of going the whole length of the staircase and corridor beyond without a mouth to bury her erection in, but she was in the mood for a bed as the scene, today, so there wasn’t much for it.

With one last thrust, she forced her whole length into Sonata’s mouth and throat and kept it there, leaning forwards and pressing Sonata’s head into her groin as hard as she could, shaking it vigorously to keep some movement stimulating her cock. Sonata made no audible protest or attempt to push Adagio off her, though her body tensed up nicely. After a minute, once the sensation had mostly subsided, Adagio drew out again all at once.

Not many could maintain any semblance of grace while removing shoes, socks and trousers while standing, but Adagio had long ago mastered the art. She swept onto one leg to peel off the opposite shoe and sock, then onto the other. She watched Sonata using the moment’s break to wipe her eyes, mouth, chin and chest on the discarded kimono, the last of which gave Adagio a sad frown. Sonata’s tits were at their best when splattered with bodily fluids, and the sight of her wiping and drying them was like watching a painting go up in flames. Still, Adagio would soon fix that again.

As soon as Adagio’s hands reached the waist of her jeans, Sonata’s were there to help, managing to tug them down Adagio’s hips and off in a single, smooth movement, efficient but still sensual. Sonata’s fingertips, hooked around the waistband, had swept off Adagio’s panties at the same time, leaving her naked below her tight tank top and bra.

Not even waiting a second to appreciate the view of her own fine form, Adagio took off towards the staircase, her hand sliding into Sonata’s hair to grip the ponytail again, dragging Sonata behind her as she strode. Glancing back once to see Sonata trying to scramble to her feet, Adagio noticed the darker patch on the carpet where Sonata had been kneeling.

She laughed to herself as she walked and pulled Sonata along. The girl really was such a literal sucker for punishment.