Chapter Text
Texas has never really gotten video games. They’re fun enough, she guesses, she enjoys the party ones with the go-karts and the little teamwork minigames, but she doesn’t get why she keeps on ending up dating girls who really like them. Exusiai already shoots people and transports packages from point A to point B for a living; what’s the point of playing a game where you do the exact same thing but in the lovingly rendered killing fields of Columbia, instead?
Her rambling half-commentary – a mix of “Haha, get fucked!” and “Tex, over there? Yeah, that thing, that’s the control point! See, if I get on top of that, then…” – combines with occasional begging for more cans of cheap light beer from the fridge, and the momentary grabbing at Texas’ tights and burying her head into her shoulder when she’s died and has to wait to get back into the game; and honestly, it’s all part of her charm. Texas likes it, it puts her at ease.
…it’s just, when it’s their first day off after shooting up half of Lungmen last weekend, Texas might have wanted to do something else today than make an 11 a.m. beer run and then engage in more endless, mindless, violence. And that’s why after the third beer request, Exusiai barely even noticing for a couple of minutes that Texas hasn’t gone and gotten her one, the Lupo runs a hand up Exusiai’s thigh, groping at her through her basketball shorts.
“That ain’t my beer,” Exusiai tells her, renowned genius that she is.
“Mm.” She keeps on gaming, trying not to giggle too loudly as Texas starts to drape herself over her, nibbling at her ears and then starting to slide lower – a little too low, Texas finds herself starting to fall off the couch, but she can work with this; and from how Exusiai wordlessly spreads her legs, it seems she’s cool with it too.
--Texas is really, really tempted to pull that controller right out of her grip, but on the other hand, those little moments where Exusiai loses her focus on the game and shoots a quick little glance down at Texas, a smirk of Well, what’re you waiting for~?, those just about make it worth it. She pats along her thighs, leans in to kiss against Exusiai’s crotch and maybe pull down those shorts with her teeth, except—
“Ow.” Texas’ face hits… something.
There’s something hard there, a solid bulge in Exusiai’s shorts, and Texas’ immediate response is confusion. This switches to an attempt to figure out what it is with the least groping possible – is she wearing the strapon under her pants again? – and eventually loops back around to confusion when it’s clearly both too solid and too flat to be a silicone dick. She feels dumb, groping at Exusiai’s crotch as subtly as she can to figure out what the fuck is going on, and it’s only when she notices how heavy whatever’s down there is that—
“Have you got a Glock under your shorts.”
“Uhhhh, that’s a Beretta M9, babe. But yeah!” She looks so proud of herself, her halo is shining right now, and Texas isn’t sure what to say. She… strokes it, a little? She strokes the gun. It feels weird. She decides to stop stroking it for now.
“Why?”
“Self-defence – and I mean, walking around Lungmen with an ess-em-gee on your hip gets you those dirty looks even down southside. Plus it doesn’t go with every look. You know the jacket I got the other day?”
“The blue one?” Shiny, cropped; Texas had thought it looked kind of cheap until she saw the price tag.
“Yeah. Wouldn’t really go with the Vector, so I have to pack heat somewhere else. Plus, like, I dunno. There’s something kind of… reassuring, about the weight down there? Makes me feel secure.”
“Huh.” Texas isn’t sure what to do with this new knowledge, or how to match Exusiai’s confidence, so she gives the gun another furtive grope; and the way Exusiai reacts is – okay, definitely analogous with when she’s Wearing The Strap.
She shifts a little back on the couch, legs spreading further, and rolls her shoulders back – and Texas tugging at the gun earns a little purr, but when she starts running a hand up through the loose legs of the basketball shorts, she finds another layer of form-fitting fabric between her and Exusiai’s weapon. Her boyshorts.
“You keep your piece in your underwear? Doesn’t that feel weird?”
“Gotta do what you gotta do. Would’ve fallen out when I was walking around, otherwise.”
“Wait, how long have you had it there?”
“Since I got dressed this morning?”
“Are you telling me you walked to the supermarket and back with a pistol in your pants.” Even she doesn’t bring her swords with her on a beer and latiao run.
“…like I said, it feels reassuring! Comforting. Maybe even... healing?” The Sankta looks thoughtful, like the thesis statement behind the gun-packing’s nearly coming to her, and then lets out a low, hissing “Fffffuuuck.” when the familiar sound of her getting, uh, ‘murked’ comes from the TV. Now she’s distracted, Texas leans in a little closer—kisses what might be the head of the gun. That gets her. She finally looks down from the screen, the countdown until she’s back in the game rightfully forgotten with Texas between her legs.
“You should lick it. Or suck it, or something.”
“You’re into that, huh?”
“Maaaaybe? I’m guessing, here!” The Sankta shrugs, pretending to be nonchalant, but Texas can tell when she’s excited – she can’t borderline smell it like she can on some people, but what she and Exusiai have… she can see it in the angel’s eyes, she can see the way her shoulders tense up. Call it a tacit understanding. “I don’t let a lot of girls touch my gun, Tex. You’re special, y’know? You mean so much to me, that’s why…”
“Mm. I feel special.” Her cheek rests on Exusiai’s thigh, and she smiles right up at her. Exusiai is a weird, weird girl; and it’s not like Texas hasn’t come to realise that’s her type, but… it says something, that having Exusiai tell her she wouldn’t let just any woman fellate her piece feels important, somehow.
…fuck it, at least she’s happy.
“Oh? Yeah?” Exusiai’s leg twitches a little, her thigh bouncing up into Texas’ face, and—when Texas grabs the gun again, giving it a squeeze, Exusiai finally throws her controller to the sofa and places her sweaty, trigger-locked hand over Texas’ ear, tapping her thumb against her piercings. God, she looks smug right now, chewing her lip as she waits for Texas’ next move, and Texas can’t let such great expectations down. She grabs the gun through the boyshorts, tracing the lines of the weapon – she’d been in fact kissing the grip earlier, apparently – and decides to push her palm down on it instead. It feels… warm, despite the cold steel it’s made of. Probably because it’s been in her shorts all day?
“I’m just glad you care about me more than your game.”
“Texas… c’mon, I’m not that cold? I work you over hard and I play hard, just not always in that order--” she starts, swagger falling off when Texas pokes between the trigger and the guard. “Hey, babe, careful, that’s a loaded gun you got there.”
“Oh, you don’t want me to pull your trigger?” It’s a shame Exusiai doesn’t have a tail, sometimes – but she doesn’t need one, because Texas can see it wagging anyway. She lifts herself up onto the sofa, straddling Exusiai’s still bouncing leg, and moves her hand to slide under the waistband of Exusiai’s pants. When she was younger – honestly, mostly until she met Exusiai and straight up asked about it – she had this weird idea that Sanktas literally had some kind of soul bond to their gun. When they’d first met, Exu hadn’t actually convinced Texas otherwise, and the way she takes a deep breath when Texas runs a finger under the barrel has Texas thinking that she might have been right all long.
Exusiai’s arm rests on her shoulder, pulling Texas in closer for her warmth, to kiss her, and Texas gives in. She presses her lips to Exusiai’s ear, makes it clear what she wants Exusiai to do to her—every last frustration and dirty thought she felt watching her girlfriend boost up her kill/death ratio earlier – or vice versa, Texas isn’t picky, she just really wants to get that early afternoon day-off fuck. Her hand rides back, her finger hangs off Exusiai’s trigger, and--
Click.
The bang is deafening, the flash mere feet from her face brings back memories of Siracusa, and the way the bullet slices through the air has her tail bristle.
“What the fuck!?” Texas almost yells, leaping back on pure instinct at the sound of a gunshot, and staring with considerable amounts of horror at the bullet wound that’s just been inflicted on the apartment floor. Gunsmoke is currently leaking out of the exit wound of Exusiai’s shorts.
If Exu says she’s ‘smoking hot’ after this, Texas will stub out a cigarette on her forehead.
“Ouch. Fuck. Recoil.” …a fair reaction, Texas guesses, that has to hurt, but are you serious— “Ohhhh, shit. I like these shorts.”
“Exusiai, I could have fucking shot myself.”
“I thought the safety was on! And I told you it was a loaded gun!” This earns her a glare, a ‘someone hid my Sora gravure photobooks again’ glare, and she knows Exusiai doesn’t have quite enough raw confidence to live through that. “My bad, okay?” She really does look more concerned about her shorts than the hole in the carpet or the fact that bullet literally whizzed about three inches away from Texas’ arm. It’s not like Texas isn’t used to the last thing – look, for a couple of years, that was every day of her life – but there’s a time and place for that. Not when you’re trying to get off with your girlfriend, that’s for sure. “Look, you dodged just fine. What’s the worst that could have happened?”
“…putting me aside, you could have shot yourself in the pussy?”
“Okay, sure, but man. That’d be a great story. Maybe Mostima’d actually reply to my texts if I talked about my literally blown out puss—hey, Tex?”
These days, Texas finds it more cute than annoying when she comes up in conversation; honestly, she finds it kind of cute. It’s nice thinking that there’s someone out there who actually gets Exusiai to shut up without sticking a finger in her mouth, and… she gets it. (But that’s a story for another time.)
But -- really? Really, Exusiai, do you have to bring her up after you’ve nearly accidentally shot your girlfriend mid-foreplay? She deserves to get pinned to the sofa, both layers of her shorts pulled down so that god-forsaken gun falls to the floor, and have an insistent thumb run across her lips—
“Seriously. My bad? I’m sorry, Tex—ah, uh—I’m shorry?” …she doesn’t have to look so smug when it comes to popping her girlfriend’s thumb into her mouth and taking a suck, especially if she wants her apology to be taken seriously. “Shooooorrryyyy. I’ll teh yu where I puh the Sora swimshuit boohk...” She pauses, her eyes go all doe-y, truly apologetic. Exusiai seems to be searching for the right word, and when she finds it-- “…daddy?”
…hey, if she really wants a ‘literally blown out puss’ (sic), Texas can think of a few ideas.