Promptober Day 10: Renegade
Rating: Mature
Tags: TomoTaki, AU
You’ve never seen anything like this before. Little houses of moss covered brick and stone surround you, surrounded by low fences of old cobblestone or rotting wood. Wooden poles suspend wires above the overgrown roadside grass and alongside leafy trees, feeding them into every house.
You can feel every eye on you as your boots crunch on gravel. The few passing villagers avoid your gaze and hasten their pace. You’re too dazed yourself to say anything.
“T-Taki…” Tomori calls out as you approach one such house. The white paint is peeling, revealing the brick underneath. “Here.”
The past few hours have been hectic and it’s all a blur to you. It’s only thanks to her that you’ve managed to slip away while reeling from everything. She’s far more deft than she lets on, having talked her way to a car and off the airfield with you in tow.
You can only nod as she tugs at your arm, leading you down the beaten path through the long grass towards the front door.
“M-Mom, Dad… I’m home!” She calls out.
“Huh? Tomori?” A woman’s voice responds.
You shuffle in after her, catching her mother in the middle of preparing dinner.
“What are you doing bac-” The instant she sees you, she springs upright. Bile seeps up your throat.
“A…Ah…! Please don’t be worried, s-she’s my friend.” Tomori speaks on your behalf. You nod in agreement.
Her mother still looks uneasy. You want to say something, but your thoughts are still hurtling down the runway at a hundred knots. No drag chute can arrest them as the whirlwinds of guilt and cowardice tie your throat shut.
“U-Um… Her name is Taki. She won’t hurt you, she’s scared too…”
You don’t remember when Tomori intertwined her fingers with yours, but your heart skips a beat as she squeezes your hand assuringly. Unbefitting of your high birth, you pathetically shift yourself behind her.
“…Please come in then.”
…
You have some downtime to yourself after dinner. You’re finally out of your flightsuit, wearing Tomori’s old clothes. Seated on her bed, you glance around.
Tomori’s room is dim, lit only by the fading sunlight outside and a small incandescent lamp on her desk. It’s a bit shabby: the bed is quite hard, the walls are unpainted and have little gaps that let an unpleasantly cool draft in, the windowpane is cracked, there’s no heater, and the door is loose on its hinges.
Despite her absence, you see some of her light amidst the darkness: a collection of smooth round pebbles in a jar, old biscuit tins with cartoon mascots, a cup full of animal themed stationery, old notebooks and many other knicknacks—similar to how she decorated her bunk.
It was initially hard for you, who lived in a perfectly maintained mansion with domestic helpers, to imagine how she could’ve lived like this before uprooting herself to work for your family. It became abundantly clear during dinner.
Dinner was simple: a beef stew with some bread. Previously accustomed to much finer courses at home, you weren’t quite used to it. Nonetheless, it was filling and warmed the stomach.
Naturally, Tomori’s mother directed conversation towards her daughter, being quite wary of you.
Still, her curiosity soon got the better of her. It began with just a few questions levelled your way: who exactly were you, what you did, how you were getting along with Tomori, what you two were doing back here…
Somehow, you found that you were warming up to each other. A lighthearted joke here, a laugh there. It felt almost like…
“Taki…? You’re crying…” Tomori wiped the tears that streamed down your cheeks with a napkin.
This wasn’t the slow suffocation you were used to suffering at the dinner table. You don’t deserve this. You killed someone who likely had a family who cared for her like this.
And now, you might’ve killed Tomori and her parents. What if your family actually cares that you ran away? What if they come after Tomori as your accomplice? What if they show up at the door right now, locked and loaded?
Try as you might, you can’t tear your mind’s eye away from the awful imagery.
“Taki…?”
Tomori slips into the bedroom. She sits down beside you.
“I…It’s okay,” she holds your hand. It’s the warmth you find yourself so selfishly needing.
Your stomach churns. You can only hope you can convince yourself to come back to the estate tomorrow and plead for them to let Tomori off the hook.
She pulls you into a hug. Suddenly, her face is so close…
“T-Tomor-”
“Please a-allow me… M-My lady…”
You share your first kiss with her.
It’s tender and slow. Your lips meet over and over, desperately searching for each other after every pull away.
“Stop calling me that…” You mumble in between.
Your heart races as the thoughts that have continuously plagued you for the past day fade into the background like noise. You feel the same kind of zen here that can otherwise only be felt in the deep blue upstairs, cruising at thirty thousand feet.
You’re powerless against her as she pushes you onto the bed and straddles you. The desk lamp reflects the flickering fire in her rose-gold eyes as she starts tugging her clothes off.
“I… I want to…”
She strips you of your virginity.
Your soft unladylike moans fill the air of the room with her name, as you consummate your bond with her. You curse and swear with her every movement, promising your undying love to her with the most crass speech you can muster. In sharp whimpers, you plead for her to take you, to ruin you, to utterly disgrace you.
Your behavior is unbecoming of your blood, but you don’t care. She has done nothing but bring you boundless joy. Your blood has done nothing but bring you endless pain.
Your moans turn primal as she makes you see stars. She breathes nothing but incomprehensible sweetness into your ears as you whisper-scream how urgently close to orgasm you are.
With a swirl of her fingers, she knights you with a baptism of yourself. It’s a vulgar ceremony. You violently shudder as your mind overloads itself. As you struggle against her for something warm to hold, she reins you in, grabbing your flailing wrists with all her might and pinning you down.
As it all calms down, your frayed nerves are allowed some reprieve. Tears stream down your face for the second time today. You beg for her warmth. She’s a merciful liege—she takes hold of your hand and holds it reassuringly, as she’s always done, and she grants you her embrace with her other hand.
“M-Milady…” you whimper into her ear.
“Please take care of me…”