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Liu Section 4's training room had just two occupants remaining; Ryoshu, who was delivering a frenzied series of strikes, and Ishmael, who was – much more easily than Ryoshu would like – dodging and blocking them. They were dressed in their sparring gear; dark red tank tops, gloves, helmets, pads. Igniters were disallowed in training matches, but Ryoshu fought with a fire inside, one that scorches, burns, consumes.
So. It was all the more infuriating when Ishmael counterattacked and, with a well-placed elbow strike to the head, put Ryoshu on the floor. The helmet absorbed most of the blow, but Ryoshu still nearly cracked a tooth in sheer anger.
“All right, let's call it for the day,” Ishmael said, catching her breath and pulling her helmet off. Ryoshu stared at her from the floor, still seething. Ishmael was heavy-set with strong muscles and fat, so unlike her own lithe self. Even lying on the ground, even pissed off – looking at her isn't bad.
Feeling the pain she can inflict isn't bad either.
“You okay? I didn't concuss you, did I?”
“No. Let's go again.”
Ryoshu jumped to her feet and was ready to square up, but Ishmael was already out of her pads and letting her hair down.
“Ry, I'm beat. Let's go get dinner. I'll treat you.”
“No. If I'm losing to you, I need to keep training.”
“Well, look. I'll tell you what I think is up. Your techniques and form are great, but – all you do is go in for all-out attacks.”
“That's the idea. K.I.M.B.A.P.”
“Uh... kill idiots mercilessly? Burn and... oh, penetrate.”
Ryoshu nodded. She's getting better at that.
“Hey, that works a lot of the time. But one against one with no igniters, you have to think differently. Make the other person make a move, let them make a mistake, then counter.”
Ishmael demonstrated, getting into her stance and slowly showing off her favorite block and elbow strike counter.
“Wrong. I need only burn brighter and longer. With more refined techniques, I'll beat you easily.”
Ishmael rolled her eyes.
“Well, take my advice or don't. It's no skin off my nose either way. Anyway, come eat.”
“Can't waste time stuffing my face. I have more work to...”
“What's the Director always telling us?” Ishmael did an impression of Rodya: “Fire needs fuel, so eat up, babes~! And she's stronger than both of us put together, so she ought to know, right?”
“Hmph.”
The Director might be strong, Ryoshu thought, but it can't be because she's gorging herself with snacks all the time.
“Of course, if you're scared you won't be able to handle the heat, I'll go by myself, I guess.”
“I didn't say that,” Ryoshu grumbled. “Let's go.”
-
They put on their red Liu hoodies and ventured out into the night, the cold winter air bracing and refreshing. Ryoshu lit a cigarette and smoked as they walked past the WingMart and the laundromat and the shitty fried chicken place and the massage parlor. They didn't chat; without Rodya around to drive the conversation, they could walk in comfortable silence. Ishmael occasionally took side glances at Ryoshu.
Even by Liu standards, she's a weird one, Ishmael thought. Handsome, though. She saw Ryoshu's features bathed in the glow of a neon sign, the plume of her cigarette smoke illuminated in blue.
Wait, handsome? Did I just think – yeah, OK, I did think that. I must be really hungry... I could almost take a bite out of her.
While Ishmael grappled with the implications of that, Ryoshu spotted her fellow smoker, Gregor, from one of the other sections, stubbing out a cig on the wall. He was standing outside Noodle Heaven.
“Oh, hey buds. You coming in for dinner?”
“Yeah.”
“Huh... don't usually see you bring someone, Ish.”
Gregor held the door for them as they went inside.
“Well, not everyone likes a good bowl of spicy beef noodles as much as I do. Besides, I don't mind eating alone... or with company. I just beat Ry pretty bad while training,” Ishmael said, nervously rambling, “so it's only fair to treat her to some dinner, right?”
“Heh, sure,” Gregor said. The inside of the restaurant was warmly lit, and they could smell rich, savory broth and hot, fresh dumplings; the place was pretty lively, but there was still two seats open at Ishmael's usual place at the counter. While Ishmael was asking Gregor what was that little laugh supposed to mean?! Ryoshu saw the other two blowjob brothers, Hong Lu and Meursault, at the counter as well.
“Oh, hello, Ishmael,” the proprietor said as Ishmael and Ryoshu took their seats. “The usual for you?”
“Yes, please. And the same for her,” Ishmael said, “but with mild spice.”
“Hmph. Fuck that,” Ryoshu said, “make mine as spicy as hers. Whatever it is.”
“It's an extra large order of spicy beef noodles with a side of soup dumplings and a side of spicy pickled vegetables,” Gregor, Hong Lu, and Meursault said at once. Ishmael released a gusty sigh.
“Additionally, a minimum of one pint of KB Draft and one glass of still water,” Meursault added. Ishmael sighed again.
“That's our Noodles. She's quite the creature of habit!” Hong Lu chirped.
Ryoshu grinned as Ishmael sputtered.
“Excuse me?! Noodles?!”
“Whoops,” Gregor said. “You didn't know that's what everyone calls you?”
“What a R.Y.A.N.,” Ryoshu added.
“That's – if you have to give me a nickname, can't you call me something cool?”
“Like what?”
“Uh, I don't know, I'll think about it,” Ishmael said, turning slightly red.Ishmael and Ryoshu accepted their glasses and clinked them.
“Anyway... cheers, Ry.”
“Kanpai, Noodles.”
They both drank. Hong Lu, nearby, stage whispered to the other two guys.
“Let's give them their space. If I don't miss my guess, I believe they're having... a romantic dinner for two~!”
Meanwhile, Gregor was already discreetly texting Rodya.
UNCLE GREG
Guess who I'm with right now.....
BOSS BITCH RODYA
the BJ bros, lol
UNCLE GREG
Yeah.
But also Noodles and Rye soup came in together...... (o )(o )
I meant Ryoshu.
BOSS BITCH RODYA
are you trying to do the eyes emoji lmfao???????
well let em do their thing. p cute couple imo
UNCLE GREG
How do you make it do the eyes?
Also, I'm surprised you're not there with them.
After a moment, Rodya texted him a picture of herself in a wine bar, her arm around the starry-eyed, yellow-haired Cinq Section Director who was smiling widely at the camera.
BOSS BITCH RODYA
gotta go! about to chow down on some weird girl pussy
UNCLE GREG
Okay.
Meanwhile, as Ishmael and Ryoshu waited for the order and sipped beer, they simply relished the quiet. When Ryoshu wasn't looking, Ishmael would steal glances at her. In this light, her red eyes looked much less harsh and scrutinizing. Even when she caught Ishmael taking her in, she just smiled.
“E.T.V.?”
“Hm. Enjoying, uh... hm... the view?”
So what if I am?
“Shouldn't I? You're handsome.”
Ryoshu was expecting Ishmael to blush and stammer and deny it, and she was taken off guard (this time by Ishmael's words instead of her elbow strike).
“Am I?”
“Yeah. Nobody ever call you that before?”
Ryoshu didn't reply. On the other side of Ishmael and unseen by her, Ryoshu saw Gregor holding up a napkin on which he wrote SAY SOMETHING NICE ABOUT HER.
“You're aesthetically pleasing,” Ryoshu said after an awkward pause. “Good proportions, intriguing colors.”
“Why, thank you,” Ishmael said, trying not to let on that her heart fluttered a little. Is that the first time she paid me a compliment on something other than my fighting skills?
Ryoshu, meanwhile, realized that she actually meant that. She did, after all, frequently watch Ishmael's sparring sessions with great interest. Partially because her Bajiquan techniques were impressive, but she also realized that she liked the way Ishmael moves, the way all that ginger hair swayed and flowed... the action of her arms, especially when she was in the Liu tank top and she could see those big muscles in action... or in battle, when Ishmael would fearlessly scorch and burn masses of opponents, breaking bones and shattering bodies with elbows, knees, and blazing fists...
Ishmael noticed Ryoshu stare into space a bit, which she decided to let happen.
Their big, steaming bowls of beef noodles arrived, both fully loaded with spice, accompanied by dumplings and vegetables.
“All right, let's eat!”
Ryoshu observed a change in Ishmael; she suddenly snapped into focus, her eyes locked on her meal, her hands working with perfect dexterity with chopsticks and soup spoon. Not a drop of broth was missed as Ishmael ate with the ruthless precision of an assassin. Even as she closed her eyes and moaned ever so softly in pleasure as she slurped up her noodles, she was truly locked in. Ryoshu couldn't help but appreciate her fervor, even if she didn't quite understand what was so special about a bowl of noodles.
Heh. But there's something special about Noodles.
She turned her attention to her own bowl, giving it a sniff.
She picked up her spoon and took a taste. She felt her tongue catching flame the moment the broth hit her tongue: searing, exquisite pain. Ryoshu summoned up all of her discipline to act as though nothing was amiss. And she saw Ishmael devouring her bowl, with the occasional detour to eat a dumpling, quaff her beer, or chomp her vegetables with no reaction except blissful enjoyment.
She only stopped when she saw Ryoshu's flushed face and her panting.
“Too hot for you?”
“No,” Ryoshu managed to say. “Too... easy...”
Ishmael smiled with a malevolent glint in her eye as she passed the bottle of chili oil.
Ryoshu hesitated, her hand hovering over the bottle, looking at Ishmael, who watched a bead of sweat make its way down Ryoshu's forehead.
“If you can't handle it...”
Ryoshu exhaled before dumping more chili oil into her bowl and then quickly adjusting and firing chili oil into Ishmael's.
“Hey – don't mess with my noodles, they're perfect the way they are!”
“We'll see who can't handle the T.O.U.C.H.”
“The what?”
Ishmael bought herself time by thinking – taste of... no, test of... oh! Got it!
“Test of ultimate capsaicin hardiness?”
Ryoshu nodded.
The proprietor looked on nervously, and the blowjob brothers looked on in anticipation as Ryoshu and Ishmael simultaneously stirred their menacingly hot bowls and, staring at each other, brought their spoons to their mouths and ate.
They stood still, locking eyes, seeing who was going to be the first one to break. The other patrons at their tables, oblivious, went about their meals and conversations as Ryoshu watched Ishmael set her spoon down, fold her hands, and sit quietly. Her face was unmoving as it turned red and her eyes started to water.
“Not bad,” Ishmael said quietly. “But... are you okay?”
Ryoshu's face was bright red and she unconsciously opened her mouth as though she had to let out steam.
“N.B.A.A.”
“Good. Well, bon appetit.”
Ryoshu couldn't believe that Ishmael went back to eating with the same focus and precision as before, even sweating, turning red, and sniffling. She turned her attention back to her own bowl, focused her mind, stilled her soul, and awakened her inner flame: the fury inside that drove her ever forward to perfect her cruel study and become a more deadly incarnation of violence and bloodshed. She looked at how quickly Ishmael was eating and matched her pace for about twenty seconds before rasping D.F.M. and running like hell to the bathroom to retch.
When she returned, walking confident and upright as though she hadn't been dry heaving and expelling globs of snot into a toilet for five minutes, Ishmael had already finished her bowl. She was sweating and flushed just like after a brawl, but even all those big squirts of extra chili oil didn't seem to be causing her much pain. She was positively relaxed, drinking beer and not engaging with the three blowjob brothers.
Ryoshu sat down beside Ishmael without a word.
“Feeling better?”
“Hmph.”
“Hey, you don't have to eat it if you don't want. I can finish yours if you want something easier to eat.”
Ryoshu looked down at the ominously-red beef noodle bowl.
It's no different from any other fight. I'll overwhelm this bowl with a blistering, overwhelming attack!
Ryoshu didn't reply to Ishmael. Instead, she grabbed her chopsticks and shoveled the noodles and beef chunks in as quickly as she could, chewing and swallowing rapidly. She then raised the bowl to her lips and chugged the witheringly-spicy broth down, willing herself not to react. Ishmael looked on, half afraid and half aroused, as Ryoshu ignored the torment of the burning chili oil. She drank the bowl to the lees, her entire mouth and throat aflame. She set it down, her eyes watering, and stared defiantly at Ishmael.
“N.A.P.”
Ishmael gathered her thoughts.
Let's think rationally. I'm full of beef noodles and with a handsome coworker who's... not as much of a bitch as she makes herself out to be. She looks good. She's tough.
I want her moaning under me.
No – I need her moaning under me.
She looked again at Ryoshu, who was sweating, trying to disguise her discomfort as she breathed hard.
“So,” Ishmael said, all casualness.
“Yeah?”
Ishmael lowered her voice when she clocked Gregor, who was leaning in to eavesdrop while pretending like he wasn't.
“Want to... get out of here?”
“Tired already, Noodles?”
“That's not what I meant... c'mon. And if you're going to call me Noodles, I'm going to come up with something even dumber to call you.”
-
They said goodbye to the blowjob brothers and stepped out again into the night air. Flurries of snow were starting to fall. Ryoshu, unthinking, offered an arm to Ishmael, who took it, and they walked together. Plenty of people were still out, but they were given a wide berth; two Liu Fixers weren't to be fucked with, even if they were walking arm in arm on a snowy evening.
“How are you holding up?” Ishmael asked.
“W.D.Y.M.?”
“You took a lot of spicy soup to the gut.”
“The fire inside B.E.T.A.”
“Even me?” Ishmael blurted out, and then immediately pretended to be extremely interested in the way the clouds were moving in the night sky, lit by the moon.
Ryoshu thought. She wasn't ready to believe all this warmth-and-kinship bullshit. Not exactly. But this was the first time in a long time she'd spent a night out without being forced to have a little fun for once, Shushu~ by that loudmouth of a Director. And she didn't mind it as much as she thought she would. The woman with the mop of ginger hair was easy to be around, in her way.
Yeah. Let's fuck.
“No. We burn better together.”
“Wow. Can't believe the untouchable Ryoshu said something so mushy,” Ishmael said.
“I'll T.O.Y.S. next time we spar,” Ryoshu muttered.
They stopped at an intersection, waiting for the light to change. Ishmael took another look at Ryoshu and decided:
Hell with it.
She turned Ryoshu's head to face her and planted a kiss on her lips. Ryoshu, to Ishmael's surprise, didn't resist, though she did make a little mmf! of surprise.
“That's what I think of you.”
Ryoshu was once again turning red. Ishmael smiled gently at her.
Let the other person make a move.
“Gotta say, Ry, you're pretty cute when you're flustered.”
Let them make a mistake.
“Cute?! Pssh.”
Counter.
“Hey, you're tough too,” Ishmael continued. “You can be tough and cu – mmph!”
Ryoshu grabbed Ishmael and planted a long smooch on her lips. She grinned when she saw the blushy, giggly look on Ishmael's face.
“You want to... come back to my place?” Ishmael asked.
-
Ishmael's apartment was small and neat as a pin; Ryoshu was glad to see that she did have a heavy bag and other equipment for training in the living room. One room served as kitchenette and living room, the other was Ishmael's little bedroom.
“You still good to, uh, mess around? We can always just hang out...”
“What, are you scared now?”
“I'm not scared of you. I just... don't usually...”
“First time?”
“No! Is it yours?!”
“No,” Ryoshu said, unwelcome memories bubbling up. “No, it's not.”
They paused as they took off their shoes and put their hoodies on the hooks. Ishmael hesitated for just a moment before grabbing Ryoshu by the hand and leading her to the bedroom.
Ishmael casually threw Ryoshu onto the bed and got atop her, straddling her hips as she pulled her tank off and let Ryoshu get a good look at her. Her skin was dotted with freckles and scars, little burn marks; she had a round belly and perky breasts which – with audible relief – she exposed, pulling her sports bra over her head. Ryoshu stared up at her, her breath caught in her chest. Ishmael, a work of art outside her usual medium, her ginger hair cascading around her shoulders. Ryoshu wasn't used to this – how quotidian, how jejune, being so aroused by a beautiful woman. And yet, Ryoshu still blushed scarlet as Ishmael lowered herself, placing her lips on Ryoshu's throat and sweetly kissing.
“Mmmm... you taste good.”
Ryoshu gasped softly. How am I this sensitive? Outrageous.
Ishmael kissed her way back up to Ryoshu's lips and gave her a breathy, deep kiss, pushing her tongue inside. Ryoshu wrapped her arms and legs around Ishmael's thick, strong body. To Ishmael's surprise, she didn't taste completely like cigarettes. Ryoshu felt Ishmael's erection pressed against her as they kept kissing; she wouldn't admit it, even now, but she was excited to have Ishmael inside her – her cunt, her asshole, her mouth, whatever she wanted. So long as it hurt.
Ryoshu broke off the kiss and gasped gimme more.
Ishmael obliged. She was ready to sate her curiosity and pulled Ryoshu's tank top over her head, taking the bandeau she had under it with it. She looked down; Ryoshu was so unlike herself, all lean and hard and toned – lithe, strong muscle, with a massive patch of burn scars which started just under her small breasts and terminated just above her hips.
“Can I...?”
“What.”
Ishmael was transfixed by the color and pattern of all those burn scars. Like everything else about Ryoshu, it captivated her in a way she found hard to understand or explain.
“Can I taste your scars?”
“Don't.”
Ishmael nodded. In lieu of licking her scars, she instead began peppering Ryoshu's breasts with kisses and tentatively nipping at her skin with her teeth. Ryoshu reached up and ran her fingers through Ishmael's hair, petting and stroking her locks. Ishmael's coarse hands worked their way down Ryoshu's sides, down to her hips.
“Ry... mmm, I want you...”
“I know.”
Ishmael huffed slightly as she hooked her fingers in and pulled Ryoshu's pants and underwear down, exposing her unkempt bush and trail of hair up to her navel. Ishmael stared down hungrily, which amused Ryoshu – she felt a little better knowing that Ishmael was just as eager and excited as she was. Ishmael bit her lip as she pulled her pants off the rest of the way. Ryoshu groaned as Ishmael stopped everything to neatly fold up her pants and set them aside.
She pushed open Ryoshu's thighs and put her hand down, her rough fingers delicately exploring as she parted her labia. She looked into Ryoshu's red eyes and watched her lips slowly part as she pushed two fingers inside, feeling her heat and wetness. She stroked in and out, in and out, her thumb resting on Ryoshu's hardening clit.
“Mm.”
“That all you have to say?” Ishmael picked up her pace, fingering her harder, thrusting more aggressively and rubbing her clit. Her other hand held Ryoshu by the shoulder as she felt Ryoshu reluctantly clench around her as she slid in a third finger.
“...better...”
“Good. You take it like a professional.”
Ryoshu's breath hitched – Ishmael felt so good inside, the pleasure was getting on top of her. As she gasped, Ishmael locked lips with her, putting her tongue on hers, their hot breaths intermingling as she passionately tasted her. Her fingers were hot and wet with Ryoshu's juices as she finger-fucked her, feeling the sensation of Ryoshu's quiet moans with every drive of her hand. Those moans got more intense as Ryoshu's body began feeling burning, intense pressure. She needed more – harder – faster, and Ishmael was giving her even more than she could handle as her head began swimming and her moans turned into a tight, strangled whine.
Ishmael raised her head, spit trailing from her mouth, and watched Ryoshu try to keep down her cry as she climaxed, splattering on Ishmael's hand and the sheets. Her eyes were half-lidded and she grit her teeth hard as pleasure washed over her. As she came down and Ishmael's fingers retreated, she caught her breath, privately mortified that Ishmael pierced her armor and watched her lose herself.
“Feeling good, dear Ryoshu?”
Ryoshu nodded and, without a word, reached up and caressed Ishmael's sides, her hands running along the curve of Ishmael's hips.
“I'm not done.”
Ryoshu slowly pulled Ishmael's pants down, and she saw her hard cock bulging in her boxer briefs. She'd never admit it, but she was overwhelmed by the urge to have that cock inside her, no matter what.
“Something I can do for you, dear Ryoshu?” Ishmael asked, her rising and falling breaths belying her attempt at being suave and casual.
“What do you think?”
“Golly, Ryoshu, I just don't know. You'd better tell me.”
“...you know what.”
“Then say it, Ry.”
Ryoshu took a deep breath.
“Fuck me, stupid.”
Ishmael pulled her underwear down and off, setting it neatly atop the pile of their clothes. Her full, fat cock was fully exposed and it was Ryoshu's turn to look at her with desire all over her features.
“As you wish, dear Ryoshu.”
Ishmael grabbed Ryoshu by the ankles and forced them down to her ears, bending her in half and leaving her completely exposed and at her mercy. She was hungrily staring into those rapt red eyes as she guided her cock inside, burying herself to the base in Ryoshu's wet, ready cunt. She watched Ryoshu's face twist as she felt a lovely shock of pain as Ishmael struck deep.
“Too much?”
“Pssh. No,” Ryoshu said with as much indifference as she could muster. Ishmael didn't ease her into it – she immediately started bucking her hips, forcefully pounding into Ryoshu, her grip on her ankles tightening.
“Don't – hnnh – be coy, dear Ryoshu,” Ishmael whispered. “I wanna hear you.”
“Then fuck me harder.”
Ryoshu didn't want to give her the satisfaction, merely breathing hard, just the hint of a gasp every time Ishmael thrusted and filled her. Ishmael accepted the challenge and lowered herself, bringing her lips to Ryoshu's neck and giving her a soft kiss, a stark contrast from what her hips were doing.
Then – she bit. That got a reaction. Ryoshu whimpered as Ishmael's teeth clamped down on her.
“Harder...!”
Ishmael obliged, fucking her even harder, putting all of her strength into pounding her, as rhythmic and strong as a piston, her teeth bruising Ryoshu's throat and breaking skin – she sensed the metallic taste of blood oozing onto her tongue. She felt Ryoshu tighten around her as she bit down.
She pulled out nearly to the tip and slammed back inside with every thrust, feeling Ryoshu shudder with every strike. And her teeth found purchase in Ryoshu's shoulder, sinking in and drawing blood. As they fucked, Ishmael hunted more unblemished space on Ryoshu's body to rip into. She searched, finding the flesh of her shoulders, her neck, biting down hard each time, loosing feral growls as her teeth tore Ryoshu's skin, leaving bruises and shallow wounds. She was rewarded by Ryoshu's now unrestrained moans and winces and the desperate clenching of her cunt. She was gripping Ishmael's cock, furiously rubbing her clit to push herself over the edge.
She felt her face get flushed as Ishmael's eyes bore into hers. For a moment, she barely recognized the woman inside her – this wasn't the just the coworker who lived to stuff herself with noodles and who got dragged around by their boss anymore. Ryoshu shivered with pleasure as she saw Ishmael's inner predator come out, biting and breeding her mercilessly.
“Ryo – Ryoshu, I'm gonna – nngghhh!”
Ishmael came, filling Ryoshu with squirts of her seed, her full, throbbing length fully inside, stifling her moans with one last bite into Ryoshu's collarbone. The intensity of it all drove Ryoshu to a second climax as they melted together in shared release, the soothing warmth of Ishmael's come filling her core. Ishmael remained inside as she let Ryoshu's legs down, languidly kissing her, breathing hard, her heart pounding. She rested atop Ryoshu for a moment before rolling off onto her back.
“G.W.”
Ishmael replied with a dazed mm-hmm as she looked Ryoshu over.
“I did a number on you just now... if you were a normal person, I'd say sorry.”
“Heh.”
“Hold on, I'll patch you up.”
Ishmael hustled off and returned quickly. Ryoshu lay back and relaxed as Ishmael attended to the oozing, bloody bites all over her shoulders and neck and chest, diligently and attentively applying the antiseptic, which stung delightfully. She looked up at Ishmael's freckled, sweating face and saw her own blood still smeared on Ishmael's mouth – she had never looked more beautiful.
-
The next morning was the All-Section meeting. So Ishmael and Ryoshu, with their iced coffee and hot black tea (respectively), took seats next to Rodya, across from Yi Sang, the Director of another section.
“Yi Sang, I heard that you accepted a 'duel challenge' from a certain someone in Cinq! Dish! Dish! Tell me everything!”
“Indeed I did, if by the appellation certain someone you imply the Director of Section 4, then yes.”
Even while gossiping, Rodya noticed that Ryoshu was very slowly and hesitatingly sitting down, wincing quietly as she hit the chair. Plus, she was wearing a turtleneck sweater under her Liu jacket, which must be a first. On top of that, she came in with Ishmael and wasn't sleeping with her training dummies like usual. Rodya flipped to a fresh page of her notepad and wrote something down before sliding it to Ryoshu.
Did you two hook up last night?
Ryoshu started to write something before Ishmael snatched the pen out of her hand, which was all the confirmation Rodya needed.