Senses
folder
Death Note › Yuri-Female/Female
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
2
Views:
3,213
Reviews:
2
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Currently Reading:
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Category:
Death Note › Yuri-Female/Female
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
2
Views:
3,213
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I don't own Death Note or make any profit from this.
Smell
I just like to note that while this was written second this scene chronologically happnes before the next chapter so its the first chapter. However if I add more chapters to this they may be out of order.
Naomi Misora was aware it was strange and perhaps inappropriate that the primary thing she noticed about her new inferior was the fact she seemed to prefer vanilla soap. When she had first met Hal Lidner she had caught a whiff of something cloying hanging about her wrists as she raised her petite hand to be shook. At the time Misora hadn’t thought much of it, she had been more drawn to following the line of that long elegant neck to full breasts, then feeling a guilty stab in her heart. She quickly dismissed her wayward thoughts and turned her attention to informing the young woman about their case.
As they sometimes passed in a hallway, or if Lidner happened to throw her blond locks over her shoulder, the movements of the air gave Misora the faintest scent of vanilla. It was a breath of fresh air against the thick and acrid stench that surrounded combating the criminal world. Sometimes Misora found herself altering her routes about the office where she knew she would happen by Lidner just for a brief taste of that faint yet lingering scent. She then go have a cigarette and remind herself she was far too professional to be pursuing someone even for innocuous and innocent reasons.
She told herself she only loved the smell of that vanilla soap, though she never asked Lidner where she may acquire some for herself.
Even when it was becoming apparent that Lidner admired her for other reasons than she was very accomplished for a young woman. The compliments could have simply have been taken as tokens of praise for an idol; while the touches, glances, and secret smiles were offerings for a love goddess. Misora had tolerated these clandestine gestures for Lidner was competent, passionate, and otherwise very professional.
She never acknowledged how that small pink tongue caressing those scarlet lips made her heart race.
When the young woman had been shot in the leg during her first major case; a drug bust in downtown San Diego, she had handled the situation with such poise even Misora was not sure she could be as stolid when she was surrounded by enough blood to slip in and her shin bone had been cracked. The blond had not even fallen in agony until after the shooting had stopped.
“Is the shooting over?” she had asked lowering her pistol.
When Misora had answered affirmatively, Lidner had fallen to the floor without a sound, her face ashen and her usually rosy lips pale. The ambulance was immediately called but Misora had insisted on administering first aide. A team leader should shoe compassion for their inferiors, because she was the most competent at first aide, these were what she told herself as she left the actual arrests to the others. It was certainly not because Lidner was clutching Misora’s shoulder gently as the bandages were tied, her strained smile, or the amplified scent of vanilla from her flushed skin.
Ultimately Lidner was given a six week leave from the FBI, something which the twenty two year old protested, but of course to no avail. In those weeks Misora had began work on another case, and after the polite recovery visit in the hospital, stopped all contact with Lidner. She was after all a busy woman, a woman with a boyfriend, someone who was establishing a life for herself. As always Misora happily let everything else besides her case work became and incoherent fog around her. Something she acknowledged as omnipresent, but not something she stepped into to become lost in.
Until that boyfriend wanted to become a fiancé.
It was acceptable Raye had been hurt when her answer had been “let me think about it.” She didn’t like to hurt him, but he was a man, surely he could let a woman make an informed decision. Her “informed decision making” had consisted of a two hour motorcycle ride around Los Angeles, with no answers. She had drunk a bottle of sake when she returned home, but there were no answers at the bottom of the bottle, only a head ache. She avoided seeing him as she went in for her spring training.
She didn’t think of him even as she came in sweaty, dirty, and blissfully exhausted into the women’s showers. She forgot about him entirely when she caught that scent of vanilla again. She bit her tongue gently as she rounded the corner and caught sight of that ashen blonde mane clinging to a wet neck and back. Misora hesitated as Lidner lathered the soap between her hands, her long lashes indicating her gaze was focused downwards and she had not seen Misora yet. The Japanese woman paused, the shower walls were high, all she could hope to see were Lidner’s shoulders and the very top of her back. As the sopping mane was moved Misora realized what a beautiful neck it was.
As the younger woman groaned as she arched her back, sliding her hands down her back slowly, Misora startled. She felt the blood rush to her face, she shouldn’t be here. It was only her and Lidner because apparently they had both finished early or Lidner had been excused due to her injury. Though this would not explain why she was in the showers other than she just enjoyed bathing in public places. She couldn’t seem to make her feet move however.
As Misora continued to watch in fascination those long arms were moved sensually upwards, moving in a slow, lingering, waving motions and the body followed in a twisting motion. Muscles flexed beneath torrents of water and the skin flushed crimson. These were odd movements to make when bathing alone, but perhaps she was merely stretching. The blond hair was flicked back and Misora felt a few warm drops land on her cheek. The Japanese woman licked her lips slowly as vanilla shampoo to compliment the soap was slowing raked into the golden strands. She unconsciously rubbed her breasts as Lidner let out a very long and satisfied sigh as she rinsed her hair. She craned her neck as Lidner leaned against the shower wall closest to Misora and those long hands were slowly trailed down her body and out of sight.
As her head was thrown back and an excited groan escaped past those supple lips Misora felt her thighs clench, but she dared not move to touch herself as Lidner was apparently joyfully doing. She watched as Lidner’s body moved up and down, as one arm flexed, and as the other shoved quieting fingers into her active and gasping mouth. She inhaled the thick and cloying scent as vanilla, as it traveled on the steam from the shower and off of the younger woman’s body. Misora groaned as Lidner threw her head back and gave a short yet passionate cry as her body tensed one last time. After that head slowly pitched forward again, a sensual grin spread across the lower half of her face, as those sapphire eyes opened and looked directly at Misora. The younger woman licked her lips salaciously, and Misora felt the burning between her thighs become an ache.
Lidner had known she was there the entire time, and was inviting her to join her.
Misora quickly backed out of the bathroom after giving a strangled cry of desire. Riding her motorcycle back home didn’t help her aroused state, and she was only relieved from the near pain of restrained orgasm until she literally pitched herself into her own shower. The scent of passion fruit was not as inviting as the vanilla but the hot water and her own nimble and skilled fingers were enough to finally relieve her. She pushed her own sopping black hair from her face and contemplated her gregarious peer.
If only you had come to me when I had been younger Lidner, she thought as she contemplated if it be even worth trying to clean those soaked panties or if she should just throw them out lest they become a sensual souvenir. She ultimately threw the red thong out, however the scent of vanilla always stimulated her, dragging her mind to Lidner’s pink and aroused flesh and her delicious cry of orgasm.
The blond woman tactfully never mentioned their encounter in the women’s showers, even though she continued her subtle and salacious campaign against Misora’s propriety. Misora had a feeling the vanilla soap had always been meant to be used as bait. It was especially apparent after Lidner gave her a basket of vanilla related toiletries for Christmas that year.
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Naomi Misora was aware it was strange and perhaps inappropriate that the primary thing she noticed about her new inferior was the fact she seemed to prefer vanilla soap. When she had first met Hal Lidner she had caught a whiff of something cloying hanging about her wrists as she raised her petite hand to be shook. At the time Misora hadn’t thought much of it, she had been more drawn to following the line of that long elegant neck to full breasts, then feeling a guilty stab in her heart. She quickly dismissed her wayward thoughts and turned her attention to informing the young woman about their case.
As they sometimes passed in a hallway, or if Lidner happened to throw her blond locks over her shoulder, the movements of the air gave Misora the faintest scent of vanilla. It was a breath of fresh air against the thick and acrid stench that surrounded combating the criminal world. Sometimes Misora found herself altering her routes about the office where she knew she would happen by Lidner just for a brief taste of that faint yet lingering scent. She then go have a cigarette and remind herself she was far too professional to be pursuing someone even for innocuous and innocent reasons.
She told herself she only loved the smell of that vanilla soap, though she never asked Lidner where she may acquire some for herself.
Even when it was becoming apparent that Lidner admired her for other reasons than she was very accomplished for a young woman. The compliments could have simply have been taken as tokens of praise for an idol; while the touches, glances, and secret smiles were offerings for a love goddess. Misora had tolerated these clandestine gestures for Lidner was competent, passionate, and otherwise very professional.
She never acknowledged how that small pink tongue caressing those scarlet lips made her heart race.
When the young woman had been shot in the leg during her first major case; a drug bust in downtown San Diego, she had handled the situation with such poise even Misora was not sure she could be as stolid when she was surrounded by enough blood to slip in and her shin bone had been cracked. The blond had not even fallen in agony until after the shooting had stopped.
“Is the shooting over?” she had asked lowering her pistol.
When Misora had answered affirmatively, Lidner had fallen to the floor without a sound, her face ashen and her usually rosy lips pale. The ambulance was immediately called but Misora had insisted on administering first aide. A team leader should shoe compassion for their inferiors, because she was the most competent at first aide, these were what she told herself as she left the actual arrests to the others. It was certainly not because Lidner was clutching Misora’s shoulder gently as the bandages were tied, her strained smile, or the amplified scent of vanilla from her flushed skin.
Ultimately Lidner was given a six week leave from the FBI, something which the twenty two year old protested, but of course to no avail. In those weeks Misora had began work on another case, and after the polite recovery visit in the hospital, stopped all contact with Lidner. She was after all a busy woman, a woman with a boyfriend, someone who was establishing a life for herself. As always Misora happily let everything else besides her case work became and incoherent fog around her. Something she acknowledged as omnipresent, but not something she stepped into to become lost in.
Until that boyfriend wanted to become a fiancé.
It was acceptable Raye had been hurt when her answer had been “let me think about it.” She didn’t like to hurt him, but he was a man, surely he could let a woman make an informed decision. Her “informed decision making” had consisted of a two hour motorcycle ride around Los Angeles, with no answers. She had drunk a bottle of sake when she returned home, but there were no answers at the bottom of the bottle, only a head ache. She avoided seeing him as she went in for her spring training.
She didn’t think of him even as she came in sweaty, dirty, and blissfully exhausted into the women’s showers. She forgot about him entirely when she caught that scent of vanilla again. She bit her tongue gently as she rounded the corner and caught sight of that ashen blonde mane clinging to a wet neck and back. Misora hesitated as Lidner lathered the soap between her hands, her long lashes indicating her gaze was focused downwards and she had not seen Misora yet. The Japanese woman paused, the shower walls were high, all she could hope to see were Lidner’s shoulders and the very top of her back. As the sopping mane was moved Misora realized what a beautiful neck it was.
As the younger woman groaned as she arched her back, sliding her hands down her back slowly, Misora startled. She felt the blood rush to her face, she shouldn’t be here. It was only her and Lidner because apparently they had both finished early or Lidner had been excused due to her injury. Though this would not explain why she was in the showers other than she just enjoyed bathing in public places. She couldn’t seem to make her feet move however.
As Misora continued to watch in fascination those long arms were moved sensually upwards, moving in a slow, lingering, waving motions and the body followed in a twisting motion. Muscles flexed beneath torrents of water and the skin flushed crimson. These were odd movements to make when bathing alone, but perhaps she was merely stretching. The blond hair was flicked back and Misora felt a few warm drops land on her cheek. The Japanese woman licked her lips slowly as vanilla shampoo to compliment the soap was slowing raked into the golden strands. She unconsciously rubbed her breasts as Lidner let out a very long and satisfied sigh as she rinsed her hair. She craned her neck as Lidner leaned against the shower wall closest to Misora and those long hands were slowly trailed down her body and out of sight.
As her head was thrown back and an excited groan escaped past those supple lips Misora felt her thighs clench, but she dared not move to touch herself as Lidner was apparently joyfully doing. She watched as Lidner’s body moved up and down, as one arm flexed, and as the other shoved quieting fingers into her active and gasping mouth. She inhaled the thick and cloying scent as vanilla, as it traveled on the steam from the shower and off of the younger woman’s body. Misora groaned as Lidner threw her head back and gave a short yet passionate cry as her body tensed one last time. After that head slowly pitched forward again, a sensual grin spread across the lower half of her face, as those sapphire eyes opened and looked directly at Misora. The younger woman licked her lips salaciously, and Misora felt the burning between her thighs become an ache.
Lidner had known she was there the entire time, and was inviting her to join her.
Misora quickly backed out of the bathroom after giving a strangled cry of desire. Riding her motorcycle back home didn’t help her aroused state, and she was only relieved from the near pain of restrained orgasm until she literally pitched herself into her own shower. The scent of passion fruit was not as inviting as the vanilla but the hot water and her own nimble and skilled fingers were enough to finally relieve her. She pushed her own sopping black hair from her face and contemplated her gregarious peer.
If only you had come to me when I had been younger Lidner, she thought as she contemplated if it be even worth trying to clean those soaked panties or if she should just throw them out lest they become a sensual souvenir. She ultimately threw the red thong out, however the scent of vanilla always stimulated her, dragging her mind to Lidner’s pink and aroused flesh and her delicious cry of orgasm.
The blond woman tactfully never mentioned their encounter in the women’s showers, even though she continued her subtle and salacious campaign against Misora’s propriety. Misora had a feeling the vanilla soap had always been meant to be used as bait. It was especially apparent after Lidner gave her a basket of vanilla related toiletries for Christmas that year.
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