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"Did you make all this?"
"I thought you might appreciate some Chinese cuisine," Quanxi doesn't turn around as she responds.
In one hand she holds the handle of a skillet, while the other uses a pair of chopsticks to neatly arrange the contents of the dish onto a plate. As she lines up the last stalks of the stir-fried greens, she tilts the pan a little more, pouring the remaining bits of dark sauce and minced garlic on top. Makima absently watches the woman work like a well-oiled machine in the minimalistic kitchen, hands laced atop the granite counter of the island. Quanxi leaves the used pan on one stove top before diverting her attention to the pot sitting on the other. Steam immediately rises from it. Makima smiles to herself when she finds that she salivates from the appetising smell.
"I could never find braised pork as good as that place in Shanghai. It's simply overpriced and tasteless here," Makima muses, her voice joining the wisps of steam in their shared silence.
Quanxi breathes a chuckle through her nose, and with her back still turned, "visit more often. I'd have taken you to better places if you weren't leaving the next day."
Makima tilts her head, eyes raking along the toned muscles of the latter's sleeveless arms, "why didn't you take me to the very best place first?"
"Different district," Quanxi replies curtly, and finally turns to place two plates onto the counter before Makima.
Makima observes the food, steam rising from their dishes, that's been cooked for her. In one dish is a simple stir-fry, nothing special. Regardless, Makima knows it's been cooked to perfection. It is truly fascinating when one ensures that something boring is of its best quality. It's still boring, in the end, but it's the best boring it could possibly be. How funny.
On the other, larger plate, is the signature dish of their meal. The braised pork shoulder has been thinly sliced, but still maintains its shape as one large piece of meat. Preserved vegetables are neatly arranged around the meat, all doused in a rich, dark sauce. It stains and drowns the greens past the point of recognition. Makima attempts to identify a single leaf out of boredom, but it's futile.
Quanxi sets the last of the table with two bowls of rice, one slid to sit right in front of Makima. She hands her chopsticks and a spoon before finally sitting down herself.
"Mei cai kou rou, we call it. Braised pork with preserved mustard greens," Quanxi finds she enjoys introducing the dish to Makima, "though you already know that."
"It looks delicious. Thank you for the food," Makima says, not looking up at the latter in favour of eyeing the said dish.
Quanxi nods, not bothering much for whether or not the red-haired latter sees. She picks up her own chopsticks as Makima gingerly picks out a slice of meat with hers, fills her own mouth with plain rice, and watches. It's amusing, in a way, that not much can be done to hide the look of pure delight that spreads across Makima's face the moment she has her first bite. Quanxi doesn't expect much more of a reaction after that, and she's right not to. Makima really only reacts to things once, or not at all. The blonde knows she's done a good job; one better than the rest of the competitors she had to defeat to win her date with Makima.
As good as it gets, I guess.
They enjoy their meal in silence, though it doesn't feel so. Makima's aura isn't loud, per se, but it most definitely fills up the quiet atmosphere with something. Quanxi isn't sure how to describe it- she doesn't bother trying. She's fine as long as she doesn't mind it, and she doesn't. Makima looks to be enjoying the braised pork, while her chopsticks have only visited the stir-fry once. The blonde takes to finishing the boring greens with her rice until it's finished. Two lone leaves remain in the oyster sauce.
"Do you like vegetables that much?" Makima asks, after swallowing a mouthful of food.
"Not really. Stir fries like these are just meant to fill the table when there is a main dish served," Quanxi says, setting her chopsticks atop her empty rice bowl.
"You ate nearly all of it," the red-haired woman notes, eyeing the lone bits that remain on the plate.
"I figured you wouldn't bore yourself with it," Quanxi shrugs, propping an elbow up on the counter to rest her head in her hand, "and I was right."
"You most certainly were," Makima smiles, reaching for yet another slice of pork, "I hope you don't mind me being such a glutton."
"I'll take it as a compliment. I cooked it for you, after all."
Makima only hums in response, and the conversation ends there. Quanxi simply watches the redhead eat, for she doesn't seem to mind having an audience of one. She'd had a decent share of the braised pork, but Makima indulges in the majority of it. She isn't very large in stature. It's strangely relaxing to watch her eat, wondering where she puts it away. The woman's rice finishes before the pork does.
Quanxi notes the way Makima enjoys the last bit of pork and preserved greens without any rice to go with it; she seems to like it better on its own.
As a lithe hand sets chopsticks down, Quanxi gets up from her seat, not minding the subtle look of question she recieves from the latter. She stacks and clears their two bowls and two plates from the table with ease.
It's quick, and it's clean, like how she handles her jobs.
Her movements are simply refined in that way, and seemingly effortless. Makima openly admires Quanxi's swiftness, watching intently the way her hands leave the crockery in the sink for later, the way she stretches her arm upward to open a cabinet door. From it she retrieves a large, bottle, and two small glasses.
The blonde sets the bottle down between them and softly slides a glass to Makima. The red-haired woman notes the wording on the label, dark strokes of ink almost painting a picture on the white paper. The glass is clear, giving way to the colourless liquid inside. She doesn't understand what it says, but it isn't as if she needs to. The smell of it greets her senses long before she can taste it, as Quanxi's long fingers unscrew the metal cap off.
"This is hard to get here," notes the redhead, fingers resting on her glass as the latter fills it for her.
"It's hard to get back home, too," muses Quanxi, recalling the pain of only having a taste for the most exclusive kinds of liquor.
Makima hums, tilting her glass slightly to eye the strong smelling liquid. Quanxi pushes the bottle aside to clear the space between them, then lifts her glass out. Her one eye regards Makima's with a rare glint.
"Only the finest baijiu for you, Madame," she smirks lazily, tilting her head to the side.
Makima enjoys the expression on the blonde's face she's been given. It's attractive, filled with a certain charm. With a more genuine looking smile of her own(though she inwardly disregards the credibility of it), she gently clinks her glass to Quanxi's.
"Cheers."
Though not quite used to the intense taste of Chinese white wine, Makima appears unfazed by her first sip. On the contrary, Quanxi is actually unfazed. She finishes her glass without intending to be as hasty as she had been, and pours herself another. Makima takes her time, swirling her tongue around the strongly acidic feel of the liquor. She savours the fruitiness, as well as the warm burn of the substance. When she's finally finished with her first, Quanxi looks to be on her third, though doesn't look any different than before she had started. With a short nod, the blonde knows to pour Makima another glass. Like every time before, she stops pouring at the same invisible line. It's precise, calculated, and very much like her. Makima doesn't thank her; only lifts the glass to her lips to take another sip. She feels the latter's eye on her face as she does so.
Quanxi stops after four glasses of the baijiu when she finally starts to feel the warmth of it in her belly, likely burning through her dinner with its alcohol volume of forty-five percent. Makima stops after her second, sliding the glass closer to the center of the counter. There is the slightest hint of a flush on her usually pale cheeks, but she is far from drunk. Quanxi would know.
"I've never had anything like it before. I suppose sake would be the Japanese equivalent, but the thought of drinking sake bores me now," Makima smiles, punctuating her words with a carefree sounding sigh.
"Of course it does," Quanxi simply says in return.
Makima finds herself in the balcony of the apartment while Quanxi does the dishes. She's sure the blonde is making quick work of the task. Her point is only proven when the taller latter joins her in minutes. Resting her forearms on the cold, metal railing Makima gazes out at the view. She's seen the skyline from a million better places, really, but it's still a pleasant sight. Beside her, she hears the tell tale flicking of a lighter, and then the buildings in her vision grow a little hazy.
Quanxi doesn't verbally offer Makima a smoke, though she leaves the box of cigarettes on the ledge between them, along with her lighter. In her peripheral, she knows Makima eyes the items for a moment. She passes. The blonde breathes through her cigarette at a leisurely pace, occasionally tapping on it to dust ash over the railing. The smoke looks thinner in the air of the night; diffusing further, fading faster. Perhaps the almost imperceptible breeze helps with that, cooling her skin in the slightest. It's a nice temperature to be in. She admires the view more than Makima does, for she isn't used to it. Back home the buildings are different, perhaps more impressive to look at from some places, but she's used to that skyline. It's too constant for it not to bore her.
She knows Makima feels a similar way. Everything bores the woman, unless it doesn't.
"Do you plan to take me to bed?" Makima then asks, breaking a long bout of silence only filled with the dull hum of the city below them.
Quanxi shrugs, "we can have sex if you want."
"Do you think sex on a first date is too much?" Makima's voice holds within it a lilt of amusement, likely at the pointlessness of her own question.
Quanxi chuckles and doesn't answer. They head inside once she tosses her cigarette butt over the railing.
Not long after their time spent in the balcony, they do make it to Quanxi's bedroom. This apartment is nothing to shout about, really. It's just a decent place for her to stay in if anything(anyone) happens to call her to Tokyo.
This time, like many others before, it had been Makima.
They undress each other in a relaxed manner. There's simply no need to rush. Quanxi takes her time with the buttons of Makima's dress shirt, while the latter only thinks to tug the blonde's tank top off much later into their endeavor. The foreplay stretches for a long amount of time- it's much like the steady incline of one of those terrifying rollercoasters in a Western theme park. Every so often an article of clothing comes off; Makima's slacks, and then her bra a while later. Quanxi's hands get comfortable with the supple flesh of the latter's breasts, while hands fumble with her belt and pants. Skin is dressed and painted with open-mouthed kisses wherever their lips land, though neither seem eager enough to leave any marks. And it's a good thing, at least for Quanxi. She knows her girls would have a field day if she were to return with Makima all over her neck.
Quanxi takes the initiative of going down on Makima first, always the pleaser. There hadn't been much contemplation for it to happen. It appears most of their night has gone this way.
One might even call it natural, if they can look past the amount of tension that lingers in the air. It's not of a sexual nature. It's more so the result of two women who can be threatening or murderous if they so please, intentionally choosing not to be. It's the result of two women who value power more than their own lives allowing it to be stolem from one another, one orgasm at a time. They're just having sex, is all.
Good sex.
It is a sight to behold when Makima reaches her peak and orgasms. Though her eyes are closed and her mouth is parted, she's entirely silent. Quanxi absently wipes her chin with the back of her hand while she watches, in awe, as the most dangerous person she knows comes down from her high like this. Makima is unspeakably attractive at times. She finds herself pinned and straddled in seconds, and the motion isn't half as rough as she would've anticipated. In fact, Makima is rather gentle, and so are her insistent digits inside Quanxi when they curl and coax an orgasm out of her. She comes down to the sight of Makima riding the muscles on her abdomen, leaving them slick. Makima gets herself off without so much as a shaky breath, but Quanxi can feel the way her thighs tremble against her sides.
Maybe Quanxi does want to hear her. At the back of her mind, it becomes a little mission of hers. It's a nice one, lighthearted even. No one's going to die if she does or doesn't accomplish it, and Quanxi can't say the same for any other missions she's had in her time.
It takes a while, but they get there. Makima is four, maybe five orgasms in when Quanxi hears it. The red-haired woman whimpers, and it's soft, likely unintentional, but it's heard. She's sensitive, now, but that's all the blonde is going to get and she knows it. Quanxi smiles before she can stop herself, lips curving upward against Makima's taut stomach.
They come to a stop, eventually. It must be some early morning hour, by now. The sheets pool around their waists, and they lazily lie against each other. Makima lets Quanxi hold her for no particular reason. Perhaps that she's warm. It doesn't really matter. The blonde's hold is weak, fingers lazily tracing patterns on her hip bone. Neither are asleep just yet, simply staring at the blank ceiling like there's something there to see.
"I've thoroughly enjoyed our date, Quanxi," Makima mumbles, close to dozing off.
Quanxi breathes a soft chuckle. Her voice is raspier now than it had been a few hours ago, though she hadn't really strained it while they were fucking. Makima finds the sound attractive, smiling to herself.
Perhaps, distantly, she might even miss it.
"It was my pleasure, Makima."