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Kirari’s lips were so deliciously blue: shining with a pale sheen of moisture that Midari thought might just about make her lose her mind. Every time she met the president’s blazing cerulean gaze, she wanted to take the closest sharp object and blind herself fully, so that she would be freed from this godforsaken lust that possessed her body like a vice. She wanted the president’s sharp, sapphire fingernails on her, inside of her, cutting her more sensitive places up into shreds.
But the president didn’t want that. She was so serene, so calm compared to how Midari was sprawled across her chair, hardly able to think straight. She had been feeling such a rising ecstasy from the moment she stepped into the now almost empty conference room– so much that by now she was practically paralyzed with it.
“I don’t think you listened to a word of the meeting,” Kirari’s sky blue lips formed delicately around the worlds, cutting through Midari’s haze like she was taking a knife to her body.
“What?” Midari answered in a low drawl.
“The meeting. Our student council meeting. I wouldn’t have asked for someone dumb to join the council, would I?” The president leaned back in her seat, surveying Midari with her icy gaze. “So tell me something that someone said. Anyone.”
“Uhhh…” Midari trailed off, putting her hand down to her legs in an effort to keep it together. She really couldn’t say this to the president, but god when she gave her a direct order like that it was like climaxing. Then again, there was no point in lying. “I wasn’t listening, prez, you know that. So why don’t you punish me for it, tell me what to do and I’ll do it.” Her breathing was starting to get quick, rough, off-kilter. “I have a gun, I have my other eye, tell me what you want me to do! I’ll do anything!!”
Panting, half-delirious with the effort of keeping from making a mess all over her seat, Midari met the president’s gaze again and physically shuddered. The look of ice had solidified into icicles, sharp enough to rip Midari’s body into shreds.
“Hmm,” Kirari muttered before standing up, picking up her papers and putting them into folders, not giving Midari a second glance. That in and of itself was enough to make her crazy, enough to make her press forward in her seat and lift herself up onto the table, wondering if she should spread herself across the papers, if then Kirari would finally notice her and treat her the way she wanted to be treated rather than slighting her at every turn. A moan slipped past her lips despite her best efforts to keep it in, and the president gave her another deadpan stare before standing up, pushing in her chair, and walking towards the door.
“Good night, Midari,” she called in her usual low tone. “Close the door on your way out.”
And then she was gone.
With her presence vanished, Midari’s attention returned to her own surroundings: as if a fog had been partly lifted just enough for her to be able to breathe. More particularly, her attention was drawn to a certain pool of wetness that had gathered around her legs from the moment Kiarai’s eyes had snapped onto hers for that final time.
She was, to simply put it, a mess. An ecstatic, insane mess. And god, she loved it.