Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not
Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither
Living nor dead, and I knew nothing,
Looking into the heart of light, the silence.
===
"Don't."
"No one will see, doll. No one."
The brick of the wall, hidden in shadow and far into a dead-end alley, scraped against her skin even through her school uniform as he pushed her up against it, his hands firm but still somehow gentle under her skirt. The drizzle and thick cloud cover somehow made the sky more overcast but the colors around her more vibrant, more real, from the red-brown brick to the shiny black trash bags to the way Alan's hair looked almost blue-black in the rain-slick weather.
Under her skirt, Alan slipped his fingers around the crotch of her panties and then dipped a tip between her lips.
She moaned and, despite herself, spread her legs a little further. "Alan," she murmured, both praise and accusation at the same time. It was danger and delight all in one motion when he slid an arm under her ass and lifted her up. Her legs wrapped around his waist and when he moved his hand (and licked a finger, his eyes trained on her), she could feel the heat and pressure of his erection, even behind his jeans.
"Just this once, Mina," he promised, his voice husky. It was his special name for her, beyond the pet name. Not even Katarina was allowed to call her Mina. "Better than me havin' to go home and wank off 'cause your mom's - "
Minako did not want to hear it - no, could not hear it, not today - and responded by catching his lips in her own and kissing him hard. Tongues rubbed, pressed, and explored, muffling her surprise when, somehow, Alan got his fly opened and pushed her panties away all in one fell swoop. When he slid in, her moan was somehow accompanied by a little whimper. Even in public, she wanted it. And she had, since that first time, when she'd still been wearing her mask and he was following her around, practically stalking, with that goddamn -
"Damn," he gasped, pulling away from her mouth so he could press his forehead to her shoulder and adjust the angle. He was deep and she took in a sharp breath when his groin rubbed her clit at just the right angle. She knew that angle. He sought that angle when they had fifteen or twenty minutes. When they were waiting for Katarina to pick her up and take her home, or when they thought her mother would be home at any moment. She dug her nails into his shoulders and leaned her head back against the brick, the coarseness rubbing up and down her back as he fucked her. "Shit. Oh, bloody fuck, you are good at this."
Minako almost, almost pointed out how little she was doing, or how little she could do, helpless against the wall, helpless in his arms, helpless as he filled her.
Five minutes, or perhaps ten, or perhaps longer past before he grunted curses in her ear and she closed her eyes and thought of here (a phrase she'd heard on the telly once and did not understand completely) until he'd calmed. He set her down carefully, smoothed her skirt, and gave her a little kiss on the forehead. "How's that for you, doll?" he asked.
She smiled. Almost bashfully. "Fine," she said, and smoothed a hand over her hair. They emerged from the alley, wandering seperate until he finally offered an arm. She accepted it, still with the little flush against her cheeks. "Walk me to Katarina's?" she asked.
"Course, love." Alan laid one more peck atop Minako's head, and it occured to her then how dark the city got when it rained, and how even the most brilliant light from lamps could be sucked out of the air, lending vibrance to the colors but little to the mood.
