Work Text:
Alia sits in her office, waiting. She got a message from Fuji earlier that had said she wanted to stop by. She and Jungle Pocket were both voted to lead separate teams in some sort of school competition. Because of that, both of her girls were busy preparing. She’s hardly seen them for the past few days and she has to say, Alia isn’t used to the office being so quiet. She’s not a huge fan of it.
Thankfully the stifling quiet was broken by Pokke earlier. She slammed her way into the office, loud and proud with her hands on her hips. The custom outfit she asked for had come in. She was showing off to Alia, saying how cool it was, striking poses and being her normal rambunctious self. Alia was inclined to agree, Pokke pulled it off well.
When she said as much to Pokke, she got all bashful. Chuckling and rubbing the back of her head, tail wagging a mile a minute. Alia smiles warmly remembering it. Former gang leader her butt, that girl is a puppy in an Umamusume body.
A knock on her door, Alia gets brought back to the present. She doesn’t even get a chance to say come in before the door slides open, Fuji Kiseki standing there in all her glory.
Alia’s breath catches in her throat. She didn’t know what outfit Fuji was going for, but a suit? Jungle Pocket’s punk outfit did not prepare her in the slightest for what she was seeing now. Alia is all but transfixed, staring at the woman in the doorway. Fuji looks good. Fuji looks really good.
Fuji has made her way into the room at this point, putting a bag down by the desk and stands right in front of Alia. The entire time Alia’s eyes are following her like a hawk.
She throws her hand out with a flourish before bowing deeply. Alia feels her lips twitching into a smile. Fuji stands up straight and does a little twirl; the white cape on her flowing elegantly, the gold trim twinkling in the light. She looks every bit of the Prince Charming that she acts on the daily.
“And?” She asks, looking at Alia expectantly, “What do you think?”
Alia looks at her, taking her in. The whole thing fit her perfectly, almost too perfectly. Alia has no idea how she does it, Fuji could probably wear a trash bag and make it look good. The most jarring part was just how white the suit was. It was almost blinding. Her black tail and black hair a wonderful contrast to it.
And speaking of her hair…
“Did you…do something different to your hair?” Alia asks. Fuji’s normally skillfully unruly hair is perfectly smoothed down.
“I combed it a bit differently than usual,” Fuji confirms, “What do you think? Does it suit me?”
Her eyes were twinkling with mischief. She definitely knew it suited her, and she definitely knew Alia liked her in this outfit. She was just fishing for some sort of reaction from her.
Alia doesn’t give her that satisfaction though, still silently looking at Fuji. To an outside eye, she looks as if she’s analyzing her, trying to find something wrong. Her eyes are laser focused on Fuji’s hair. Fuji looks pristine.
Fuji looks too pristine.
“How long did it take for you to fix it?” Alia asks it as nonchalantly as she can, like they were talking about the weather.
Fuji looks none the wiser, taking the question at face value, “Hm? My hair? Not very long, why do you ask? Has it gotten messed up?”
It’s almost funny how Fuji seemed genuinely concerned it was messy. She unthinkingly goes to smooth it down. Alia stands up and rounds her desk to stand in front of Fuji. She reaches up and moves her hand away, gently combing through Fuji’s bangs, “Not yet.”
Fuji blinks, “Wha—“
Quick as a whip Alia grabs the back of her head, fisting her hair and pulling her in for a searing kiss before Fuji could even attempt to finish that thought. Fuji only makes a slight noise of confusion, before melting into it, grabbing onto Alia nearly desperately. She guides Fuji the best she can without breaking contact, pushing her backwards until her legs hit the couch.
One final shove has Fuji sitting down heavily, Alia straddling her waist and Fuji’s hands clinging tightly onto her hips. Alia’s own hands were in Fuji’s hair, scratching dully at her scalp and making Fuji let out some wonderful noises.
The hands on her hips somehow manage to snake their way up and under Alia’s shirt, Fuji gripping at her back, and Alia wishes she didn’t have gloves on so that she could feel her hands.
Still, the feeling makes Alia sigh into the kiss. The hands in Fuji’s hair instead cup her cheeks, holding the woman underneath her gently, a stark contrast to…everything else happening.
A leg under her is moved, pressing against Alia in a way that makes her gasp.
If she knew how to take off that suit as well as her racing silks, it would’ve been on the floor by now.
Though, a small part in the back of her mind is saying how Fuji has somewhere to be soon. She needs to get ready for that. It would probably look bad if she was late meeting with the cheer squad. It would also look bad if she was late and covered in hickeys.
She feels a bite on her neck and all thoughts go out the window.
With strength and confidence Alia usually doesn’t have, she maneuvers Fuji so that she’s laying flat on her back on the couch. Alia is hovering over the smug woman, looking down at her breathlessly.
Fuji is lying there, grinning from ear to ear, eyes half-lidded and chest rapidly rising and falling as she catches her breath. This stupidly charming woman looks every bit of the cat that caught the canary. Another moment of them both catching their breath, and Fuji opens her mouth to say something.
She doesn’t get to say much before Alia is bearing down on her again.
Alia knows that whatever comes out of Fuji’s mouth will be some sort of tease. Alia can think of other things she could do with her mouth that would be far more productive. Fuji seems inclined to agree, with how easily she folds back into Alia, following her pace effortlessly.
Hands grip Alia’s collar and pull her closer and she groans into the kiss. Alia can’t believe she has to be responsible. She wants to keep Fuji here for the rest of the day. As much as she would love to continue this, Fuji really does need to get going.
She slows, the desperate kisses turning more languid and tender. Again, Fuji adjusts to her, and her bruising grip on Alia relaxes into a gentle hold.
God, Alia has half a mind to call her a good pony and see how Fuji reacts. Another time, maybe.
When they finally break apart, Alia leans back to see the damage done. Fuji is incredibly rumpled. Her once crisp suit is wrinkled, and her hair…
Well, Alia certainly reached her goal of messing it up. It’s fallen back to its natural messy look, albeit a lot more scruffy thanks to hands running through it. Fuji herself looks as if she couldn’t care less though, staring up at Alia with an almost dreamy expression on her face.
Alia can’t help but laugh softly at that. She reaches up and cups Fuji’s cheek, caressing it gently. Fuji’s ears flop over and she leans into the touch. It’s hard to believe just 20 minutes ago this huge dork was so suave and elegant. Now she looks as if the only thing she wants to do is cuddle up to Alia and to be held.
Truth be told if she said she wanted to do that, Alia doesn’t know if she’d be strong enough to deny her. Meeting up with her cheer squad be damned.
“You knew exactly what you were doing, didn’t you?” Alia murmurs.
A wicked grin breaks out on Fuji’s face, she doesn’t even try to hide it. She cracks open a single eye, staring at Alia with a knowing glint.
“Perhaps I did,” she admits.
Alia rolls her eyes, letting herself fall on top of Fuji with a bit more force than necessary. The woman underneath her grunts as the air gets pushed from her chest, but she doesn’t complain, just tightens her grip on Alia. Alia supposes some cuddling is okay. Though it might be in Fuji’s outfits best interest if it doesn’t last long.
“You’re going to need to comb your hair again,” Alia tells her, nuzzling into Fuji’s neck.
“I assumed as much.”
“And maybe steam the suit a bit…”
“I also assumed that.”
Alia laughs, Fuji sounds completely unbothered by the fact she has to clean up again. In fact, she was probably betting on having to. She probably has all she needs to do that in her bag. She really did just know entirely what she was doing.
A gloved hand is rubbing up and down Alia’s back. It’s making her sleepy, to be honest. But she can’t really take a nap in the middle of the day, too many things to do.
Regretfully, she pushes herself up and out of Fuji’s embrace. Her fiancée whines like a child at the loss of contact, but doesn’t fight Alia standing up.
“C’mon now,” Alia teases, leaning down and brushing Fuji’s bangs, “don’t you have a competition to win?”
Fuji sighs, playing up her pitiful persona. She pushes herself up to stand, groaning the whole time, acting as if a two ton weight is weighing her down. When she’s finally on her own two feet, she’s slumped over, her posture not at all matching her nearly regal attire.
“Honestly,” Alia says, poking Fuji’s side, “you act as if you can’t get more kisses later.”
Two black ears perk up. She straightens, using her one extra inch of height over Alia to her advantage.
“Just kisses? And what would happen if I was still wearing the suit?” Fuji asks, a roguish grin on her face.
Heat rises to Alia’s face, she feels it on her ears. She stares at Fuji, deadpan. As if she doesn’t know what exactly would happen. Which is the problem, she knows exactly what would happen. Alia steps into Fuji’s space, ghosting her lips with her own. Fuji freezes, not expecting the sudden confidence.
“Come back later wearing it and I’ll guess you’ll see,” Alia murmurs, closing the distance to give a featherlight kiss onto Fuji’s lips.
She steps back and Fuji leans forward, greedy for more. Alia laughs, reaching out and pushing her back. The pout on her fiancées face could kill a man, and it just makes Alia’s grin widen.
“Later,” Alia insists, “for now, you should clean up.”
The pitiful act was back, and Fuji trudges over to her bag that she dropped by the door on her way in. Sure enough, inside was all she needed to freshen up. Alia snorts and shakes her head. Fuji’s entire goal when showing Alia this outfit was absolutely to get kissed silly, and knowing her, probably even more than that.
True to what she said, it doesn’t take Fuji long to fix her hair. When standing, her suit doesn’t look too bad either. The rumples in it just look as though they were caused by normal everyday wear, which is good. It means she doesn’t have to take it off to steam. If it came off, Alia is positive that it wouldn’t be going back on her any time soon.
“There,” Fuji says, straightening her jacket, “all presentable now?”
Alia nods, she looks no worse for wear. Her eyes linger on Fuji’s hair for a moment, her self control nearly evaporating again as she imagines her hands in it. She’s a big girl, she can handle her ridiculously handsome fiancée. She tears her eyes away, instead looking at Fuji’s face.
“Will you come watch the competition?” Fuji asks, either not noticing Alia’s lingering look or choosing to ignore it.
“Yeah, I planned on it,” Alia hums. She’s feeling a bit mischievous still. Grinning she says, “I’m just not sure who to root for.”
Fuji gasps in mock offense, hand flying to her chest, “My own fiancée not cheering for me?”
Leaning back on her desk, Alia can’t restrain the giggles that bubble up from her chest. Fuji looked so over the top offended. She doubles down on her teases.
“It would be kind of cruel to not cheer on my trainee, wouldn’t it?”
“I’m your trainee and fiancée.”
“Good point, maybe I should stay impartial then,” Alia says, “but…if my fiancée happens to win, maybe there’s a reward in the cards.”
Fuji’s tail flicks once, a spark in her eyes. It was a challenge that she gladly accepted. Alia feels bad, there was no way Fuji was going to go easy on Pokke anyway, but now there was no way she was going to lose.
She bows and grabs Alia’s hand, bringing it to her lips for a kiss.
“I’ll see you in the stands then,” she murmurs, mouth centimeters from the back of Alia’s hand, ocean blue eyes looking up at her from her lashes.
Her heart skips a beat. Fuji is so unfair.
“Y—yeah,” she stutters, “I’ll be there.”
With a grin and a flourish of her arm, the cape behind her flies out dramatically. Fuji stands up straight, grabs her bag and heads to the door. Right before she crosses the threshold she pauses, turning back to Alia and winks. Then she’s gone, leaving Alia dumbstruck.
Alia stares at the doorway where Fuji was standing for far longer than she should have. That woman is going to be the death of her. But…she guesses there are definitely worse ways to die.
She shakes her head, smiling like a fool. She can’t wait to see how this competition ends.