Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1615688.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/F
  Fandom:
      Soul_Eater, Soul_Eater_Not!
  Relationship:
      Kim_Diehl/Jacqueline_O._Lantern_Dupré
  Character:
      Kim_Diehl, Jacqueline_O._Lantern_Dupré
  Additional Tags:
      No_Plot/Plotless, Plot_What_Plot/Porn_Without_Plot, First_Time, First
      Kiss, Awkward_Sexual_Situations
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-05-21 Words: 4668
****** Answer ******
by tastewithouttalent
Summary
     "There’s something so irritatingly passive-aggressive about that
     particular vocal range that Kim is spinning back on her heel,
     storming in close so the extra inch of height Jacqueline has on her
     is perfectly evident, and hissing up into the other girl’s face." Kim
     and Jackie answer some very important questions shortly after
     becoming partners.
Kim considers herself a clever girl. Sure, there are better students than her,
meisters better at combat or more focused on studying or just full of sheer
charisma, but wasting effort on useless things counts as idiocy in her book,
and she has absolutely no interest in such hollow achievements. If she did she
could succeed at them, certainly; as it is, she is interested in having the run
of the girl’s dormitory to herself, as much as possible, and in frightening off
anyone who tries to be friendly with Poor Misunderstood Kim. It’s been working
well, too, or was until Jacqueline Dupré -- the name takes on a snarky tone
even inside Kim’s own head -- decided for some utterly unfathomable reason that
she wanted Kim at her meister.
There are better meisters. That’s been part of Kim’s plan, too, or at least a
convenient side-effect of her isolation. The entire EAT class has more sparkle
to their skills than her own ever show, and there are a handful of better
students in the NOT class too. And it’s not like Jacqueline likes her; the girl
can barely be around her for five minutes before she starts huffing about rules
and getting herself so worked up Kim could knock her over with a feather. So
the other girl’s utter obsession with Kim herself is illogical, and ridiculous,
and kind of weirdly charming when Kim can let her own mental wall down enough
to admit it to herself, because clearly there’s something Kim’s got that no one
else can quite satisfy.
She’s thinking this through on her way up the stairs to the dormitory; class is
in session right now, so the hallway is her own and she doesn’t need to worry
about getting caught with the weakness of introspection on her face. By the
time she kicks open the door to her own room, she’s barely looking at her
surroundings, lost somewhere in confused pleasure and biting her thumbnail
without realizing it.
If it were anyone else in her room, she’d be able to drop her mask back on,
hiss some appropriately furious retort and clear them out immediately. But
she’s thinking about Jacqueline, and when she looks up to find the weapon
perched on the end of Kim’s bed, a flush high in her cheeks and her lips parted
and breathing like she’s run a mile, the connection between her thoughts and
reality slips her up so for a moment everything drops out of her head entirely
and she just stands in the doorway, thumb still against her teeth while she
stares at the other girl.
Jacqueline leaps to her feet while Kim is still waiting for reality to make
sense again, starting to bow before she catches herself, starts to straighten,
changes her mind, clearly caught between Kim’s lower status as a NOT student
and her brand-new position as the weapon’s meister.
“Kim,” she finally manages, cheeks going crimson with self-consciousness as she
finally decides on standing straight. “I was hoping to find you here.”
“It’s my own room,” Kim says without moving from the doorway. “Great skills of
deduction you’ve got there.”
Jacqueline’s dark flush spreads out to the rest of her face. She’s less
gorgeous when she’s this flustered, but the reaction makes her look a little
more human and a little less like a doll, and in the end Kim does kind of like
her, so she grins and lets it go.
“So you found me.” She steps forward out of the doorway, lets the door finally
swing shut behind her. “What did you want?”
“Shouldn’t you be in class?” Jacqueline asks from behind the meister’s
shoulder, like it’s only just occurred to her. Kim pauses in the middle of the
floor, turns to give Jacqueline a pointed look over her shoulder. The weapon
flushes up again, looks away from the meister’s face. “Ah. I wanted to...spend
some more time with you. To get to know you better. Now that we’re partners.”
That brings a whole new wave of color, though Kim doesn’t totally
understand why, and Jacqueline is talking fast over herself. “If you don’t
mind. It’s supposed to help. The best teams live together, after all, spend all
their time together so they can work more effectively as a unit.”
“You want to move into my room?” Kim deadpans. She means it as a joke, but
Jacqueline’s blush is rapidly becoming permanent, and the weapon hesitates long
enough that Kim’s eyebrows go up before she can help it. “You won’t be able to
stand me, you know.” She turns back away. “Trust me, it won’t help our
partnership at all.”
“I can too,” Jacqueline mutters, almost defiantly, just low enough that Kim can
pretend she hasn’t heard it, if she wants.
If the weapon has spoken louder Kim would have ignored her, or laughed and
changed the subject, or glared and chased her out of the room. But there’s
something so irritatingly passive-aggressive about that particular vocal range
that Kim is spinning back on her heel, storming in close so the extra inch of
height Jacqueline has on her is perfectly evident, and hissing up into the
other girl’s face.
“Yeah, you’ve taken pity on me, thanks ever so for that. You know how much of
your fucking sympathy I need? You’re gonna clean me up, drag me into EAT with
you, huh?” Jacqueline is leaning back a little, biting her lip, but she doesn’t
look nearly as frightened as Kim wishes she did. “Make a good meister out of
the little witch in hiding. Are you just some self-sacrificing martyr, that you
only feel good about yourself if you’re unhappy?”
“That’s not it,” Jacqueline says, a little louder than her first statement. Kim
wasn’t expecting her to rise to a fight, was honestly expecting the other girl
to break down entirely under a little pressure, but then the weapon has been
surprisingly persistent in the face of Kim’s continued rejection. Maybe this
isn’t that out-of-character, really.
“Really,” Kim snaps anyway. “What is it, then, that makes you so damn hung up
on saving me?”
“It’s not about saving you,” Jacqueline says, and then she actually stomps her
foot, like a child in a temper, and Kim lets herself laugh even if the sound is
infused with scorn.
“What then?”
Jacqueline stares at Kim for a moment, so long the meister very nearly snaps a
repetition of her question. Then her gaze shifts -- Kim can’t tell where,
exactly, from the oddly close angle -- and the other girl’s cheeks flare red
with heat.
“Kim --” she starts.
Kim doesn’t cut her off. She’s curious, really, legitimately interested in the
answer now. But Jacqueline doesn’t keep talking; there’s a moment of silence, a
breath while Kim is waiting for the conclusion to the other girl’s sentence.
She’s anticipating an answer so thoroughly that the contact is just confusing
at first; it takes her a moment to realize what’s going on, why Jacqueline has
leaned in so close she can’t see the weapon, why her mouth is warm and wet and
why there are fingers against the back of her neck. Then she does realize, all
at once, and in the first shocked moment she tries to pull back before she’s
even figured out how she wants to react to Jacqueline kissing her. But the
weapon’s hand is against the back of her neck, and when she tries to jerk away
Jacqueline makes a sound of protest and brings her other hand up to Kim’s
shoulder, and something at the back of Kim’s mind says, oh, well that explains
a lot.
Jacqueline only holds the meister still for a minute; Kim can feel the exact
moment self-awareness comes back into the other girl’s body, the tension of
panic stiffening the other girl’s shoulders and turning her lips from
impossibly soft to thin with fright. The hand at Kim’s neck drops and
Jacqueline leaps backward, flushed and wide-eyed and looking at least as
shocked as Kim feels.
It’s clear from the expression on Jacqueline’s face -- as if Kim has slapped
her, although the meister hasn’t moved -- that she’s not going to speak, and
probably not going to come back to reality until Kim drags her there by force,
so even though Jacqueline is the one who kissed Kim and Kim has the better
right to be dumbstruck by silence it is the meister who breaks the silence, who
juts her hip to the side and braces her arm against the angle and starts to
grin at the other girl.
“So that’s how it is,” she says. Jacqueline is still staring at her, still has
both her hands clapped over her mouth like her body ran away with her and she’s
trying to forcibly ensure it doesn’t do so again. “You could have just said you
like girls, you know, it would have simplified this a lot.”
Jacqueline shakes her head, says something that sounds like a protest but that
Kim can’t make out from behind her hands.
Kim rolls her eyes. “Take your hands away, Jackie, I can’t understand you when
you’re talking into your fingers.”
Jacqueline’s eyes narrow with irritation at the amusement in Kim’s voice, but
she drops her hands and honestly frustration is a good look for her, or a
better look than shocked into immobility at least. “I said I don’t. Like
girls.”
Kim raises her eyebrows. “Are you delusional as well as pointlessly stubborn?”
She’s stepping in before Jacqueline has a chance to more than lower her elegant
brows to glare at the insult; the weapon is taller than Kim but she has a lot
of dark hair hanging down her back, it offers a great handhold once the meister
gets her fingers up into it. Jacqueline makes a shocked sound of pain when Kim
pulls on the fist the meister has of her hair, but then her mouth is back
against Kim’s, and this time Kim parts her lips and Jacqueline goes soft and
melting under her hands even before the weapon follows her example and opens
her mouth for the meister.
Kim’s kissed people before. Technically. Twice, to be precise, both so far in
the past they weren’t much more than childhood games. But she’s seen other
people kiss, couples around corners at the DWMA when they think they’re
unobserved, or in movies or television shows, and she’s a fast learner. The
most important thing, as far as she can tell, like with everything else, is
to act confident regardless of how much actual experience she has. So she steps
in closer, licks against the roof of Jacqueline’s mouth, and the weapon
whimpers and gasps and arches in instead of away, presses up against Kim so her
breasts crush in against the meister’s, and when Kim reaches up to lay her hand
flat against the side of the other girl’s chest Jacqueline gasps, tries to lean
in and twist at the same time so she stumbles and nearly falls and
inadvertently breaks the kiss in the process.
Kim’s heart is pounding in her chest, this is nothing like how she was
expecting this afternoon to go, but Jacqueline is looking glazed and probably
won’t notice how flushed the meister is anyway. So she smiles like she does
this all the time, and Jacqueline’s hands come up to clutch at her hips like
the meister is the only stable thing in a spinning world.
“Don’t like girls?” she says, shifting her hand sideways and pushing in harder,
until her fingers are entirely cupping Jacqueline’s breast, and the
weapon shudders, curls in around the shorter girl and buries her face against
Kim’s shoulder. “You sure like me, and as I am in fact a girl you should
probably reconsider that claim.” She grins with all the bravado she can muster,
even though Jacqueline’s not looking at her; the assumed confidence bleeds into
her voice and straightens her spine, and that helps counteract how damp her
palm against Jacqueline’s shirt is going with panicked excitement. “I could
show you, just in case you want to be sure.”
Kim is expecting the weapon to flush, to go stiff and panicked as her straight-
laced nature reasserts itself, and for a moment there is a tension that
flickers through the other girl. But Jacqueline’s mouth opens against her
shoulder, and the sound the weapon makes is not protest, it’s really more of a
moan than anything else, and in spite of her best attempts to stay in control
the sound sends a wave of heat through Kim’s skin so she’s shivering too.
“You really want this?” Kim asks, and if her voice shakes a little Jacqueline
is breathing too hard for the other girl to notice, probably. “I never expected
that of little Miss Perfect. Though it makes me like you a lot more.” She tips
her head sideways, scrapes her teeth against Jacqueline’s ear; when the weapon
shivers again Kim starts talking again, soft in consideration of how close her
mouth is to the other girl’s ear. “See, this will be great for our teamwork.”
Jacqueline is still shaking, still clinging to Kim like a lifeline. “All the
best partners are sleeping together anyway, it’s practically expected at this
point.” She angles a knee in between the weapon’s, shifts her weight to turn
the two of them, and Jacqueline goes obediently, turns and shuffles backward,
and when Kim pushes her shoulder she falls back onto the bed with barely a
squeak of startled not-quite-protest.
Kim joins her fast, before she has time to lose her nerve, drops onto her knees
on the bed and then shifts one leg between Jacqueline’s because if she doesn’t
do it now she’s not going to have the courage to do it later. Her smile is
going wider, taking on the manic edge of actual panic she can feel herself, but
Jacqueline doesn’t know her all that well yet and the other girl probably won’t
catch on to Kim’s own utter lack of experience in this area. Besides, how hard
can it be? Better with another girl than a guy; at least Kim knows how
everything works from her own experience. And Jacqueline’s pretty, much
prettier than any of the boys in the Academy. Most of her hair is still twisted
up into a severe bun, but even that’s starting to go, and the smooth fall of
dark is getting tangled around her shoulders, showing the marks of Kim’s
fingers in comparison to its usual untouched perfection. Jacqueline’s lips are
parted, mouth stained red as if from lipstick just from the pressure of Kim’s
teeth and tongue and lips, and that flush is still clinging to her cheeks but
she’s staring at Kim’s face; she looks disbelieving, still, but more breathless
and dreamy now than the straight shock she had before. All the skin Kim can see
is pinker than Jacqueline’s usual ivory tone, like all her blood is rising up
in a desperate attempt to escape, or just to feel Kim’s touch; she reaches out
to touch the outside of Jacqueline’s thigh, under the hem of her skirt, and the
weapon shudders and gasps and shifts her knees to spread her legs wider.
It’s a tiny movement, to carry the invitation that it does, and for a moment
Kim is just staring at the stripe of Jacqueline’s skirt falling dark across the
other girl’s thighs. It’s higher than it usually is, sliding up from Kim’s
touch, but when the meister pushes up farther experimentally Jacqueline
whimpers again, and when Kim brings her hand across to the space between
Jacqueline’s thighs the weapon takes a sharp strangled inhale that seems loud
enough to echo in the space, loud enough that Kim is suddenly glad there’s no
one else in the building.
“Did you think about this?” she asks, more loudly than she intends, trying to
cover how badly her hand is shaking when she reaches up to unfasten the buttons
of Jacqueline’s jacket. “Did you think about me touching you like -- like
this?” The words catch in her throat but the weapon doesn’t hear it;
Jacqueline’s eyes are locked on Kim’s face, she’s looking at Kim like the
meister is some sort of angel, and she’s nodding, straight-laced good-girl
Jacqueline Dupré is nodding at Kim’s deliberately invasive suggestions, and
she’s letting Kim pull her tie loose and start unbuttoning her shirt and she’s
not moving Kim’s hand from its position high along the inside of her thigh.
Kim’s breathing hard and her skin keeps flushing hot and then cold, panic
chasing hard on the heels of interest until she feels like her skin is speckled
alternately pale and flushed.
Jacqueline’s not pale, though. The weapon is pink and warm, hot even, she’s
radiating heat off every inch of her skin so she actually feels warmer as Kim
gets her clothes open, the flat shiver of her stomach and the steep slope of
her breasts over the lacy top edge of her bra radiating heat and both as pink
as Kim’s hair. Kim’s been fond of thinking of Jacqueline as a marble statue:
very beautiful, and very cold, and with little if any resemblance to a living
human. But the other girl is very human now; when Kim touches that edge of
white lace on flushed skin Jacqueline groans like the sound is being dragged up
out of her throat, arches up off the bed into the meister’s touch, and when the
smaller girl slides her hand up another inch along Jacqueline’s thigh the
weapon is hot, wet and warm even before Kim gets her fingers in against the
other girl’s panties and pushes careful friction against her. Jacqueline
shudders, her whole body quaking on Kim’s bed like she can’t control the shiver
coursing through her, and Kim can’t breathe and she doesn’t know what to do so
she pushes straight on, like she always does. The clasp of Jacqueline’s bra is
against her back, she can’t reach it and Jacqueline looks well past the point
of accepting any sort of instruction, so in lieu of actually getting the thing
off she just pushes at the bottom edge, hooks her fingers around it and shoves
until it hitches up over Jacqueline’s breasts instead of under them, and before
she has time to go frozen and tongue-tied at the unfamiliar curves under her
fingers she just touches the weapon, strokes her fingers down over the sweep of
the other girl’s skin, and that seems to be the right thing. Jacqueline shuts
her eyes, moans softly in the back of her throat, and Kim’s own blood is going
hot, resolving its indecision in favor of arousal rather than fright.
Jacqueline’s skin is soft against Kim’s fingertips, soft like silk, softer than
any of Kim’s own body, and she’d feel self-conscious about that except that she
really just wants to feel more. She gets the fingers of her other hand past the
obstruction of fabric, feeling her way more by Jacqueline’s panting breathing
than by sight, and it’s not that hard anyway, after all. When she catches her
thumb just right Jacqueline shudders so she keeps the pressure there, curls two
fingers together so she can slide them into the other girl, and Jacqueline
is wet, Kim’s fingers almost don’t meet any resistance even as she can feel the
other girl’s body stretching around her. It’s very suddenly hard to breathe,
the realization that she’s inside Jacqueline sucking all the air from the room
for a moment, but the other girl is quivering under her touch and
actually whimpers when Kim experimentally moves her hand, and Kim can’t really
be bothered with little things like oxygen just at the moment after all.
The angle’s much easier than when she’s on her own; there’s none of the awkward
wrist twisting it takes to get her own fingers where she wants them, and
Jacqueline seems perfectly content with just the pressure of Kim’s thumb
against her clit, not even desperate for any real movement if the steady
increase in the volume of her moans is any indication. She’s responsive to
Kim’s touch on her breasts, too, arching up like she’s offering herself for the
taking until her back is entirely off the bed, Kim could fit her hand between
the sheets and Jacqueline’s skin without touching either if she weren’t so busy
tracing patterns across the curve of soft-firm skin under her fingertips.
Jacqueline’s breathing harder and faster and louder, Kim’s barely even moving
her fingers inside the other girl and she can still feel the weapon shaking
under and around her fingers, her breathing going erratic until Kim’s not sure
she’s not going to pass out before she comes.
Kim’s instinct is to push hard, thrust her fingers as fast and as deep as she
can, but from the way Jacqueline is gasping she’s faintly concerned she’ll
break the taller girl, so she holds back, keeps to the steady pace that is
winding the weapon up in spite of its relative slowness, drags her fingers
carefully up and over the weapon’s chest, working her way up and around until
she brushes her fingertips gently across the other girl’s nipple. Jacqueline
gasps in a huge shuddering breath, arches up even farther; Kim can feel the
edge under her hands, can hear it in the weapon’s stopped breath and see it in
the shake in her legs, and when she drags her fingers back over the sensitive
skin and slides her thumb over the other girl’s clit, Kim’s the one who gasps
in relief as Jacqueline convulses and shudders into orgasm against her.
They’re both breathing hard as Kim slides her fingers free; if the meister
could steady herself she would, but her heart is racing way past the point of
even grasping at coy, and now that Jackie’s shivering and smiling with the
aftershocks of pleasure Kim is becoming really aware that no one’s
touched her yet. It’s a weird feeling, actually; she doesn’t usually wait, if
she wants to get off, and the sense of several minutes of anticipation without
any contact is making her skin shiver like it’s not quite attached right.
“Jackie,” she says before she realizes what her throat is doing, so the other
girl’s name comes out shattered and broken and any attempt at coolness
evaporates before it begins. Jacqueline shivers again, finally opens her eyes
to look up at the meister; she’s not moving, making no attempt to straighten
her clothes at all so she’s just a mess of tangled fabric and damp flushed skin
and gasping breaths, and Kim absolutely isn’t going to wait any longer.
“‘S not fair, if it’s just you,” she’s saying, letting Jacqueline go so she can
hitch up her own skirt and slide her panties down around her knees where she’s
still straddling the weapon’s leg. She doesn’t make any real effort to keep
herself covered in the process -- it seems silly, after all -- but Jacqueline’s
gaze drops to follow the movement and the weapon comes flying upright, gasping
in delight like Kim’s skin is some sort of magical thing to see, and her hands
-- delicate hands, she’s got long thin fingers that feel like fire against
Kim’s body -- come up against the top of the meister’s stockings, grabbing at
the edge of the other girl’s sweater and shirt to push it up and get at the
skin underneath.
“Jackie,” Kim hears herself saying. She throws one hand out to the other girl’s
shoulder to steady herself, close her fingers around the hand against her leg.
Jacqueline starts to pull back, out of worry or fear of rejection
or something but Kim doesn’t care enough to find out what misconception the
other girl might have. “Fuck, hurry up.” She shifts the weapon’s hand, lining
her own fingers up against Jacqueline’s, and when she leads the other girl’s
head between her legs the weapon catches on, brings her shaking fingers in
against Kim, but that’s not enough either. Kim drops Jacqueline’s hand, grabs
at a handful of the weapon’s hair and pulls to punctuate, hisses, “More,
Jackie, fuck,” and the weapon shudders and gasps and slides one of those long
fingers into her. The pressure helps, it pulls a groan out of Kim’s throat and
an arch out of her back, and Jacqueline’s hand is sliding too slow up over her
waist and it’s still not enough.
“Harder,” she says, tipping her head down so she can watch Jacqueline’s
shoulders shake as the weapon angles her forehead in to fit her head under
Kim’s breasts. “Harder, more, come on Jackie.” The weapon shivers, starts to
ask something: “Are you --” and Kim knows what the question is, snaps, “Yes I’m
sure, just give me more.” Jacqueline pauses, hesitates for just a moment, and
just before Kim has a chance to voice another protest she moves all at once,
slides a second finger up into the meister and fits her fingers in under the
other girl’s bra to press against her breast, and Kim groans with satisfaction
and lets her hold on the weapon’s hair go.
“Good,” she says, pushing the edge of her skirt back up so she can fit her
fingers in over her clit. “Good, yes, more like that.” Jacqueline starts to
move her hand, slow at first but gaining speed when Kim whines encouragement,
and the meister has found the right angle for her own fingers and is setting up
a counterpoint rhythm to the slide of the other girl’s hand into her. The
fingers on her skin are gaining force too, pushing a little harder and moving a
little harder; Kim keeps groaning, part encouragement and part plea for more
and part just response to the heat soaring up into her blood and skin and
throat until she has to voice it or choke. Jacqueline is moving faster, harder
in obedience response to Kim’s desperation, and when she shifts her hand and
fits a third finger in alongside the first two it’s finally enough. The
weapon’s fingertips are dragging hard over Kim’s breast, pushing hard enough
into the sensitive skin that it would be painful if Kim weren’t so flushed
with want, and Jacqueline’s shoulders are shifting with how hard she’s
thrusting her hand but it’s close, it’s so close to enough, Kim’s wrist is
aching but there’s no way she’s about to stop now. Then Jacqueline’s fingers
catch at Kim’s nipple, pull just barely at the sensitive skin, and Kim’s coming
before she realizes it, shuddering and gasping and laughing, self-consciousness
utterly forgotten in the shake of pleasure crashing through her.
Everything starts to ache as she comes down from her orgasm; her wrist is sore,
and her legs are cramping up, and all the overstimulated sensitive skin across
her body is tingling in steadily rising protest at its abuse. She’s still
laughing, though, giggling with delight and faint hysteria, and Jacqueline is
still breathless and mostly undressed, and as soon as the weapon slides her
fingers free Kim pushes her back down to the bed and collapses on top of her,
weighing the other girl down before she can get up and run away as the rising
self-awareness in her expression says she’s considering.
“I don’t mind,” she says, deliberately mumbling into Jacqueline’s shoulder
while she fits her fingers against the shudder of the weapon’s stomach as the
other girl breathes.
There’s a pause of confusion, as Kim was hoping for. “What?”
“I don’t mind sharing a room with you,” Kim clarifies. Jacqueline goes still;
Kim can almost see the other girl’s thought process catching up with her
reference. “It’ll be good for our partnership. Right?”
Jacqueline might get angry, or upset, or panicked. The uptight Jacqueline of
Kim’s imagination would definitely get irritated. But the girl underneath her
starts to laugh, breathless and charmed and amused, and Kim smiles against the
sheets without bothering to lift her head.
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