Work Text:
It is late: outside the open window, the night is as dark as the room inside, and the street below lies silent except for a few stragglers drunkenly making their way home. The rest of the house is quiet as well, all the clients either disappeared into the night or sleeping off their drink in the beds of their chosen companion, and the girls all gone to sleep after another night’s work.
All the girls, except Meng Shi, and Sisi.
Oh, Meng Shi is on her bedroll, to be sure, but in this moment, sleep seems as distant as the faraway Jinlintai. She’s not thinking about that place, however, or the man who lives there – instead, her mind is on matters much closer to her heart: on the child in her belly, whose kicking has finally eased for the night, and the woman eating her out.
Sisi is a warming light Meng Shi didn’t know she missed, a companion where she expected none. She is also in possession of a very quick and clever tongue, currently engaged in darting, licking and laving at Meng Shi’s most sensitive place.
It is almost impossible to keep quiet, even though Meng Shi knows she has to. The madam does not appreciate it when her girls attend to each other, and Meng Shi can’t afford to be found breaking any rules, but she also can’t help but want something for herself, however small. To feel good, to feel cared for, even loved, if only for a secret little moment in the dark.
And Sisi is making her feel all those things and more. Meng Shi is covering her mouth with her hand to muffle the sounds she’s making, but she knows it’s only partially effective. It is as though with every brush of her lips, every swipe of her tongue, Sisi is creating a pressure that builds and builds inside Meng Shi’s chest until it simply cannot be contained; as though the only way Meng Shi can keep herself from coming apart are the sighs and moans that escape her lips, each one more desperate and unrestrained than the last.
She has seen paintings of waves, and she feels as though she is caught on top of one, or perhaps as though she carries one inside herself – a surge of water crescendoing ever up and up, carrying her and threatening to wash over her all at once – and the only things she has to hold on to are the silken strands of Sisi’s hair, worn long and loose here in the secluded, private time between work and rest.
“Sisi” she pants through her fingers as the pressure becomes almost too much to bear, “Sisi, dearest…”
And Sisi doesn’t stop. If anything, she doubles down on her efforts, and Meng Shi grasps her hair tighter and leans back against her pillows and allows the wave to wash over her, the force of it larger and sweeter than she’s ever known it to be with a man.
She is still panting when Sisi pulls back; still trembling when Sisi moves to lie next to her and places her hand protectively over Meng Shi’s belly, as though the unborn child inside was hers, as though it was theirs. And Meng Shi cannot help the incredulous little laugh that escapes her when she presses her lips to Sisi’s forehead, her nose, when she kisses her swollen lips. That she can have this. That Sisi would give her this, this little joy. Small and secret, yes, but oh, so treasured.
“Oh, Sisi” she sighs into her lover’s hair as she reaches down between them and Sisi spreads her legs, her wet warmth welcoming Meng Shi’s touch, “my Sisi…”
Because she is. In these stolen moments, they belong to no one but themselves and each other: their time, their bodies, their pleasure. And Meng Shi will steal as many of these moments as she can.