Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/10951785.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/F
  Fandom:
      Ensemble_Stars!_(Video_Game)
  Relationship:
      Tenshouin_Eichi/Tsukinaga_Leo
  Character:
      Tenshouin_Eichi, Tsukinaga_Leo
  Additional Tags:
      Rule_63
  Collections:
      Ensemble_Stars!_Kink_Meme
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-05-20 Words: 2786
****** every song you've ever sung ******
by warsfeil
Summary
     Leo can't quite seem to stop making mistakes, and Eichi Tenshouin is
     one of them.
     Rule 63 genderbend; written for the EnStars kink meme!
Notes
See the end of the work for notes
Leo probably shouldn’t let this keep happening. It isn’t as though she meant
for things to turn out this way when she ran into Eichi! Leo was just trying to
buy more staff paper from the school store at the last minute and instead she’d
found the Empress herself, smelling like some sort of imported tea leaves and
smiling like meeting Leo in the halls was an unusual and pleasurable
occurrence. Leo found herself weak to that smile, to that voice, to those words
that Eichi could drop so easily like a melody Leo could only dream of
replicating.
She should have left before Eichi started talking. She should have left, if not
then, when Eichi had reached forward, had deftly tucked a strand of Leo’s
vibrant hair behind her ear. Instead, Leo had just snapped that she could take
care of her hair herself, was perfectly capable of handling things like hair
and shopping for her own composition tools, and she had reached up to push
Eichi’s hand away.
Of course Eichi had laced their fingers together, instead, and by then it was
too late to leave, and Leo knew it. Dealing with Eichi is a study in Leo’s own
insanity – she repeats the same actions over and over again like something will
change (like this time, Leo will leave!) and nothing ever does. Well, that’s
what broken people do, so Leo supposes it isn’t too much of a surprise.
The point – because there’s always a point, even if it’s hard for anyone but
Leo to follow – is that she should have left, and didn’t, and she’s only lying
to herself if she tries to claim she didn’t know it would turn out exactly like
this, pressed up against the wall with Eichi’s lips on hers and a performance
to do in under an hour.
“Are you going to be late?” Eichi asks, breathless; Leo thinks she can hear
Eichi’s voice down into her very bones, making a home inside of Leo’s skin and
re-emerging as a thousand different melodies that Leo can never get right when
she writes them down.
“Don’t be stupid,” Leo says, arrogant and as loud as she dares to be when the
only thing between them and discovery is the dressing room door. “You don’t
have enough stamina to make me late! If this is a distraction technique so that
Knights does poorly, then it’s—“
“Working,” Eichi interjects smoothly, and something about it makes Leo’s
traitorous knees incredibly weak. “I’m not the one that has to perform later.”
Which is a valid point, and one that Leo would love to refute, except that
Eichi’s lips are on her neck, tracing a line of heat down to her collarbone,
and Leo’s protests and objections die before they’re ever given life.
“So this is all just a nefarious plan to make us lose—“
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Eichi says, and the fact that she manages to sound so
regal and lofty when her hand is sliding so deftly inside Leo’s shirt, fingers
dodging the buttons with ease to drag nails across the point where Leo’s bra
meets her skin. “I have no intentions of trying to retake my previous position
at this school.”
Which should be a relief, because Leo is in no position to deal with the
Empress when she wants to take over a school. Thinking about the last time,
italicized in Leo’s own thoughts, is enough to make her blood run cold and her
breath stutter in her lungs and she shouldn’t find Eichi’s cold fingers on her
breast nearly as arousing as she does.
Leo, it seems, is making a lot of poor decisions these days.
“Then what are you trying to do? Are you trying to ruin Knights just for fun?
Because I won’t let y—“ Leo’s voice cuts off, going into a high squeak as
Eichi’s cold fingertips find her nipple and pull just hard enough to distract
her from anything she might have been trying to say.
“Weren’t you the one who tried to disband your own unit?” Eichi’s words are hot
against Leo’s ear, and things like temperature feel like so much more than they
are when they’re coming from Eichi like this.
“I,” Leo starts, and then falters, because Eichi has always been so good at
breaking down all of Leo’s carefully constructed walls. Eichi could break her
again, as easily as the first time, and Leo knows that she would let her, she
would get on her knees and ask for it if Eichi really wanted her to, and the
familiar feeling of self-disgust churns in her stomach.
Leo’s hands hold onto Eichi’s hips, and she wishes she were taller, because
it’s so easy for Eichi to keep her pinned against the wall. For someone so
sick, Eichi is still strong; all those live performances haven’t gone to waste,
and there’s strength in even her fingers as they move around to unhook Leo’s
bra.
“My shirt isn’t even off yet, you blockheaded—“
“Aren’t we on a time limit?” Eichi replies, sliding her knee between Leo’s
thighs. It pushes Leo’s underwear up and she is abruptly aware in perfect
clarity that she is going to need to change her underwear after this, and she
isn’t certain that she has a backup—
Leo responds by kissing Eichi, because it seems like the thing to do at a time
like this, when Leo is already letting herself be swept up by the overwhelming
tide that is Eichi. The way Eichi kisses her back makes her shift up, rutting
against Eichi’s leg where it’s pressed between her own, and when Eichi reaches
up to pull Leo’s hair tie out of the way so she can better tangle her fingers
into it, all Leo can do is let out a light noise. It doesn’t sound nearly as
much like a protest as it probably should, but Leo knows that it wouldn’t make
Eichi stop either way.
Leo doesn’t really want her to stop, now. Their relationship is complicated,
these days, far beyond what Leo could ever have been prepared for when it came
to high school, but this – this is easy; this is familiar. Leo knows Eichi’s
skin practically as well as she knows her own, these days, and she knows
exactly what Eichi wants from her, in this.
It’s not far from what Leo wants herself, most of the time, but never dares to
ask for. Who would understand? Leo has long since fallen from the pedestal that
almost everyone else put her on; she has failed the rest of Knights so acutely
that she’s aware of it every time she sees them – she couldn’t tell them that
all she wants is to close her eyes and let go and let Eichi do whatever she
wants.
Eichi finally breaks the kiss, and it’s a certain form of gratifying that she’s
breathing harder than Leo is. She opens her mouth and Leo is gripped by the
desperate desire not to hear a single thing that Eichi might say. Instead, she
reaches up, braces her hands on Eichi’s shoulders and pushes down with all the
strength she can manage. She might be shorter, but she’s still strong when it
comes down to it, and Eichi goes down easily, cascading to her knees.
Predictably, Eichi reaches up to drag Leo down after her, and Leo goes,
willingly; presses the wood grain floor into her knees and pushes Eichi back.
It’s almost like being in control of the situation, when she crawls forward,
straddles Eichi and tries not to automatically shift down in search of more
friction. She rests a hand between Eichi’s breasts; feels the stiff underwire
of her bra, the way her chest heaves up with every breath. Eichi might be
suicidal, with how often she exerts herself when she shouldn’t, but Leo doesn’t
have any room to talk about things like that.
Leo might be in her Knights uniform, but Eichi is just in the school uniform,
which means it’s considerably easier to get to her skin. Leo has a skirt and
leggings and at least three separate layers on her upper body, not to mention
the various fastenings – Eichi’s blazer is easy to open, and she doesn’t
protest when Eichi’s fingers go to the buttons of her uniform shirt.
“Are you going to undress me instead?” Eichi asks, her voice pitched coy, like
her blue eyes (the sky, the ocean, Leo is drowning and asphyxiating and falling
every time she looks at them) aren’t darkened with lust, like Leo isn’t close
enough to smell the sharp scent of her interest every time they shift.
“You’re not performing,” Leo snaps, waving a hand in a gesture that would mean
more if she didn’t immediately drop her hand back down to undo the last button
on Eichi’s shirt, to push fabric layers aside and run gloved hands down the
slim lines of Eichi’s stomach. Leo sounds grumpy, she knows she does, so she
buries the self-doubt and the uncertainty in action, instead, presses her lips
in against the side of Eichi’s rib cage and feels her muscles flutter in
response.
Eichi just raises a leg in response, draws her knee up to tilt Leo forward
until Leo’s loose hair is spilling down over her shoulders. She reaches up,
wraps her arms around Leo and shifts her hips, rolls them up in a way that is
entirely too lewd for the student council president to be doing on the floor of
a dressing room.
“Then that means I can tire myself out,” Eichi says, and Leo reflects that she
isn’t going to manage to tire out Eichi before she has to go perform, because
Eichi is as insatiable as she is intelligent, but still. There’s something like
a challenge in Eichi’s words, and Leo can’t help but take the bait the same way
she always does.
She slips backwards, off Eichi’s lap; spreads Eichi’s thighs and then sits on
them triumphantly, as though she’s finally found her throne. Eichi pushes
herself up by her elbows, looks down at Leo with the carefully unconcerned
amusement that the Empress is famous for, and Leo feels another twist inside
her stomach.
Leo should stop being so predictable; she should stop playing right into
Eichi’s hands; she should get up and leave right now.
Instead, she shoves up Eichi’s skirt. Eichi’s hips lift automatically, and Leo
isn’t even touching her yet, not really, but that doesn’t matter. Leo lifts a
hand up, takes a glove off with her teeth so she can keep her other hand steady
on Eichi’s body.
“Tire me out, ou-sama,” Eichi says, an imperious command as she reaches to
twine Leo’s hair around her fingertips. It makes Leo’s heart leap to beat
furiously inside her throat, because she’s seen Eichi do the same gesture on
others, on people that still stand by Eichi, on people that Eichi never threw
away, and Leo wonders if there’s a future far-flung out in space and time where
she and Eichi were happy and weren’t caught in a never-ending rotation of
trying to defeat the other.
Leo is already tired, but she can’t stop this; she’s come too far. Her hands
are already shaking with the desire to step away and run as fast as she can all
the way back home – she can hide in her room again, refuse to come out until
Izumi is forced to come fetch her –
No, she can’t do that. So, instead, she leans into Eichi’s fingertips, catlike,
looks down at Yumenosaki’s Empress spread beneath her, and presses her bare
fingertips to Eichi through the damp cloth of her underwear.
“You’re too demanding,” Leo critiques, ignoring the way Eichi moves against her
hand, presses down in search of more fiction. Leo doesn’t have any friction
right now, so Eichi can deal with it for a few seconds.
“You have to be kept on a short leash,” Eichi says, and Leo flinches. “Don’t
run away again.”
Leo is rapidly losing, and isn’t sure why she’s even bothering to try and speak
when Eichi is so much better at ripping her words apart and turning them around
on her. Eichi’s fingers curl in her hair, and Leo has a rapid decision to make
– so she makes what is probably, objectively, a stupid one, like all the others
leading to this point. She reaches up with nails that Arashi so painstakingly
painted for her earlier and pulls Eichi’s underwear down to her knees, leans in
and tries to pretend like this is exactly what she wants to be doing when she
presses her tongue against Eichi.
Eichi tastes the same, and Leo wishes she didn’t know the taste so well. It’s
too easy to close her eyes, to taste salt and musk on her tongue and pretend
that it’s the way it was before, when Leo still thought that she was someone
special to Eichi.
Eichi’s hips move in the same short, fluid motions that they always have when
Leo buries her tongue inside of her. It’s easy for Leo to hold Eichi down, even
when Eichi lifts one leg the rest of the way out of her delicately patterned
underwear to wrap around Leo, to egg her closer and deeper.
Every moan that Eichi lets out, light and breathless, is a note that Leo
mentally charts out. She doesn’t write it down, she commits it to memory, adds
to the careful mental symphony of Eichi that she’s been compiling ever since
the first time Eichi let their fingers twine together. Leo remembers their
first kiss. She wrote a song about it. She never told Eichi.
“Leo,” Eichi says, and Leo can’t help but cling to the way Eichi says her name.
No one else says it like that, no one else lets her name roll off the tongue
like praise, like she isn’t an abject failure of a person. “Leo—“
It’s encouragement, in its own way, and that’s what Leo craves. She wants to be
enough, she wants to be worthwhile; she wants to be more than commissioned
compositions and the futility of trying to erase her old mistakes. She should
never have followed Eichi to begin with, because all paths always seem to lead
her: to the soft skin of Eichi underneath her fingers.
Eichi’s hips buck up and Leo shoves them down, musters every bit of strength
she has to hold her in place, to twist her tongue in just the right way that
makes Eichi choke on her own moan when she comes. Her body twitches, clamping
down and jerking, and Leo doesn’t stop, not right away, keeps going, not until
she feels Eichi start to jerk and feels a brief urge to keep going after that—
But Eichi has hands in Leo’s hair and pulls her up, kissing her like she
doesn’t even care where Leo’s mouth just was. Eichi’s bangs are damp where they
lay on her forehead, and her chest heaves as she inhales, half-dressed on the
dressing room floor.
Leo doesn’t say anything, for a moment; she lays her head down on Eichi’s chest
and listens to the sound of her heartbeat. She taps notes onto Eichi’s arm, the
sounds she’s given Eichi’s voice, a three-note song that she’s never heard
played and never will, even in the afterglow like this.
Eichi runs her fingers through Leo’s hair. She catches her breath and keeps her
eyes half-lidded, and Leo doesn’t need to look at her because she can see it so
clearly in her mind. She can get lost in Eichi’s eyes without ever looking at
them. It’s such a problem.
When Eichi sits up, Leo moves back; she’s still achingly aroused, her underwear
less damp and more of an entire lost cause – but Eichi is just straightening up
her bra, buttoning up her shirt and tugging her underwear back up. Leo’s
stomach twists, because this isn’t the first time her selfish empress has taken
something so easily without a hint of returning it.
Eichi leans down, once she’s presentable again. Leo is still kneeling, fists
clenched on her legs, trying to pretend she doesn’t care, that she isn’t
craving Eichi’s touch, like she won’t go home tonight and trace fingers down
her body and imagine that they’re Eichi’s.
Eichi tips Leo’s chin up to look at her; leans down and presses their lips
together again.
“I’ll be watching your live,” Eichi whispers, voice soft, the words breathed
into Leo’s lips more than given volume.
Eichi leaves and takes the melody inside Leo’s mind with her.
Leo stands, and pretends like her hands aren’t shaking as she pulls her hair
back into place.
End Notes
     "what if they didn't want 3,000 words of girl leo crying into eichi's
     vagina, which is basically what this fic is" i ask my friend as i
     stare blankly at my word document wondering when my life went so
     wrong.
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