Rainbow Techno

If only life were as simple and as predictable as the beat of an electronic heart. Warning: Femmeslash, FF, Yuri, GirlxGirl!

In the Ozarks, far into the mountains, where even the most experienced hunters never go, there is a clearing. In this clearing, there is a tree, and on that tree, there is a leaf. Well, actually, there are a lot of leaves on this tree. However, this particular leaf is the first of its kind for the season. It is the first leaf to change hue. It will be the first leaf to fall.

On a bus in a big city, there is a woman. The dim lighting of the bus casts an odd hue over her skin, the semi-tanned, hint of cinnamon freckle dusting coming off in a post mortem blue. She is a business woman, and a successful one at that. All the money in the world couldn't buy her any happiness though. She sighs, dark hair fighting to break from the fierce clip she has reined it back with.

Her car was in the shop, and every time she rode this bus, if there was one drunk man or woman around any of the bus stops she had to sit through, they would pick her to sit next to. Even if there were five or ten empty seats next to other people, the drunkard would always pick her. Tonight was different though. Tonight, maybe the drunks would stay in the bars longer. Maybe she would miss them. Maybe they would miss her.

Today was the one day of the week when every man and woman seemed to change. It was a night when everyone could be somebody else, a night when each person courageous enough to venture out would be rewarded with an out of façade experience. It was the magic of a Saturday night. Her skin tightened and formed goose bumps. Yes, tonight, she wouldn't have to be Susan, the vice president of floor 4 of Magick Industries. Tonight, she could be another person entirely. Syrin would be let out to play tonight.

The bus came to a halt, jolting her out of her goose-fleshed trance. This was her stop. She left her post-mortem skin on the bus, and donned the subtle cloak of street lamps as she walked the two blocks to her home. Her white front door with its yawning, cantankerous deadlock greeted her as always. Susan battled with aforementioned deadlock, praying she wouldn't have to break in again, and thanking whatever stars were watching over her that it opened without too much strain and heartache.

Her home, decorated in rich, dark colors and soft edges pulled her inside, greeting her less like a Moray eel and more like a Labrador puppy. She allowed the soft heat of her home to drown her for a few minutes as she robotically moved up the stairs and into her bedroom. Once there, she simply dropped her purse and briefcase at the doorway, pausing for a moment before finally taking the god-forsaken clip out of her hair. Her sleek hair traveled down to her mid-back before halting, silently swishing as she approached the radio.

As suddenly as her hair had dropped, the room filled with a wailing siren and thrumming bass drum. Susan let herself slip. She let herself slide. Then, finally, she let herself fall deep into the darkness that was her inner mind. Her body swayed momentarily, almost dreamily before suddenly snapping back into alertness. This was all Syrin's game now.

A wild 'come-and-get-me' smirk slid across Syrin's face as articles of her blocky yet somehow for hugging business suit hit the floor. She didn't even bother picking them up. Clad in only her lacy undergarments, Syrin stretched; glad to have control back after another week of confinement. Unceremoniously, she kicked the suit, which was horridly confining in her eyes, under the bed, making sure it wouldn't be seen, or cared about, until morning.

Striding to the bathroom amidst a fast paced thumping song, she quickly rummaged through the cabinet under the sink, finding the washout hair dye in electric blue. Good enough. Usually it was lime, or maybe a nice sweet tinge of chemically altered flaming strawberries. She put in the highlights to set for the ten minutes ordered, before returning to the room in a burst of energy to sensually sway and gyrate to the music seeping through the walls. Her flesh heated, she imagined all sorts of hand trailing along her body, worshipping the temple that was her body. Then she imagined her hands, bringing another soul to pleasurable heights while dragging their bodies down like Susan's state of mind.

The dye had set over her dark hair in a glow stick bright hue. It would ensure that at least a few wandering eyes would be captured if not by her dancing, then by her color display. Birds will sometimes put their colorful plumage into use to attract potential mates. She threw her closet open, pushing her gray, dull suits aside to reveal the low rise leather pants and the shredded long sleeve on one arm, missing sleeve on the other shirt with mesh put in for most of the torso coverage. An outfit entirely of her own wicked design.

This leaf, of course, will attract many with its colorful death. None will mourn it for what it is worth. They will be too awestruck as a dying flame hits the floor.

The wind tried to beat through the edges of her exposed flesh, but she was far too warm, despite her lack of coverage. Syrin had one night. This was it, this was her only playtime for seven days, and by every star watching her sin parade itself through the streets, she would have her fun whether the other party wanted it or not. The thrill of the chase always made things better in the end.

She approached the entrance to the nightclub that was a busy hive of activity. She calmly waited in line. She would not waste her time seducing her way past the bodyguard of this night club. Something told her it wouldn't be appreciated. Instead, she found extreme pleasure in being able to ogle all of the androgynous eye candy hovering around her. Oh yes. This was simply going to be a night to remember when Susan was in the middle of a corporate meeting.

The guard allowed her and another group passage into the club. Faintly, through the walls, one could hear more popping, jerking bass sounds. The black, velvet covered walls. The black lights in the ceiling made her hair glow like lightning. Finally, they hit the large double doors covered in another smooth material shot through with any color one could think of. As Syrin pressed her hand to the door, she could feel the heavy beat to the music smash through her fingertips and snake through her entire arm.

When the doors were opened fully, she could feel the music barrage her whole body, which unfortunately was a shield for everyone behind her. Forcing the overwhelming feeling behind her, she entered the room to let the others have a taste.

She approached the bar, flashing her identification quickly to gain her alcohol privileges. The female bartender, with her eyes turned candy apples by contacts and her short-cropped fiery hair to match them absolutely oozed sex from her pale pores as she leaned forward to take Syrin's order, chest begging to be released from the tight shirt she held them captive in. Syrin smirked and leaned in even farther than the bartender had, raising her voice to be heard over the music. "I'll take a red snapper, sweetheart." The bartender gave her a coy look, "The drink, or me?" She grinned back. "Maybe I should have the drink, then get back to you on that." "So it's my number you're wanting." Syrin purred close to the flesh of her cheek, "Maybe."

The bartender laughed melodiously before leaving to mix the cranberry flavored beverage. While Syrin was awaiting the alcoholic bite, she surveyed the dance floor, watching as the mass of writhing bodies beckoned her to join them. Of course, she would oblige them quite happily, but first, she needed to get some alcohol to replace her work tension with a better kind of tension. She turned back around just as the bartender slid the drink, accompanied by a slip of paper towards her before going to serve her many other customers. Syrin trapped the phone number in her wallet before squeezing it back into her pocket. Leather: good for hugging skin, not so great at hugging wallets too.

She brought the glass up to her lips, gently tracing the rim with her tongue before taking a sip, as habit dictated. Again turning her predatory eyes to the crowd she searched for her first victim, convinced that with such a wide crowd, she was sure to run into some sort of creature similar to herself. As the cranberry started staining her lips, out of the corner of her eye, she saw a young androgynous soul approach her. Swiftly, she turned her somehow naturally bright lime green eyes towards the person. Said person met her eyes just as swiftly, despite their height difference, Syrin being more on the short end of the stick. Hunger burned in the taller soul's eyes, but only flamed higher when an equally tall man slipped his arms around him. As the two nameless souls began their silent, heated debate, Syrin left them to it, sighing with disappointment.

Oh how cruelly the tables tended to twist on the first few tries. She lifted her drink to her lips again before realizing it was empty. That was unusually fast for her to suck something down. She decided to maneuver out onto the dance floor for some well-deserved enjoyment before she ordered her next drink.

Writhing past the outer ring of the crowd, she quickly melted in as flawlessly as the air around her. Flowed like the sweat racing down bodies of people dancing so tirelessly that their legs would give out before they did, or the tongues sliding into anonymous mouths, hands travelling across foreign territory. Syrin threw her head back and let the music take her as viciously and heatedly as a bout of bathroom sex. She didn't care who did or didn't notice as her business woman cocoon was completely and utterly shattered and she gyrated and writhed in a heat so intense it left her breathless. Multitudes of other heated bodies pressing in like the sea on the lone rock that was her, trying to wear her down.

She didn't know how long she was dancing before a sudden, strong urge overtook her. Look! It screamed at her. Look directly in front of you! She obeyed as quickly as the urge had come and was stunned into stillness by the sight the graced her vision.

Her hair was as red as the bartender's had been, but was simultaneously shot through with hues of blue, green, purple, fuchsia, and a few other of which the names escaped Syrin at that moment. Her skin was a light, rich creamy color that looked as smooth as silk. Clad in pants that somehow managed to hug that perfect gyrating rear yet flare into stylish bagginess everywhere else, and a shirt that was so scanty, what wasn't covered by the small bits of fabric was corralled snugly behind gauze lined mesh. A barely painted porcelain mask turned her way suddenly became a face as brilliant blue eyes revealed themselves.

She danced for a while longer, looking as if the music were the best of lovers, pleasuring her body in ways unachievable by mere humans, even though it was created by them. Syrin couldn't decide what was happening. Whether the music was making love to the beautiful soul, or whether said creature was making love to the music.

The winds foreshadowing the middle of autumn do their best to shake the leaf from its perch. Other leaves begin to trade their uniform hues for something a bit more festive. Other leaves begin to fall, but, surprisingly, the first leaf stubbornly holds on, unshaken by the wind's attempts to trick it into letting go. It's not ready to leave just yet.

That ethereal creature swung her body Syrin's way, taut stomach muscles flexing beneath their mesh prison. Never once breaking eye contact, Syrin began dancing again, approaching the girl in the same manner. They met in the center of the dance floor, lights and strobes playing a scientific orchestra to the music. They grew accustomed to each other quickly without any words having to be spoken to ruin the moment. The girl was shorter than her by what was most likely a measly inch or so.

The girl turned around, pressing her writhing body flush against Syrin's, using her like a pole, hands on her unguarded torso as she slid down to the floor and back up again without ever missing a beat. Syrin quickly attacked as she came back up, placing her hands like iron vices on the girl's slender hips, causing the girl to sinfully address the challenge by grinding into Syrin's quickly heating nether-region.

Syrin groaned at the obvious teasing. This woman was simply lust incarnate. She was going to break her down and build her up again just to break through her body and leave euphoria behind. The woman twisted in Syrin's vice grip, shamelessly moving one of Syrin's hands to her bosom, while she craned her neck to slowly trace her lips, then her tongue against Syrin's exposed neck.

Syrin moaned, quickly accepting the deal as she tilted her head back to get more of that sin to seep into her pores, her hand moving of its own accord to massage the creature's breast through the thin fabric of her shirt. The breathy moan she got as a result sent liquid shivers down her spine. She felt as well as faintly heard the whispered phrase dancing over her skin before the torture of her neck resumed. "My name is Nyx." Nyx. Another strange name that Syrin doubted she would forget. A sudden nip to the hollow of her throat elicited a new noise from deep in Syrin's throat. A growl and a very deep one at that. "Syrin."

It was of no consequence where Syrin was, or who saw. Not anymore. Like it or not, this girl was coming home with her tonight. Nyx was far too deep into this to get away. She had been trapped in Syrin's spider web, or was it the other way around? Either way, Syrin slid the hand massaging Nyx's breast to claim the shoulder above it, tightening on it in that owl-plucking-a-field-mouse-out-of-a-field way. Then, ensuring her prey was rendered unable to run off, Syrin fiercely dug her talons into Nyx's hip and buried her head in the cradle that was Nyx's neck, allowing her breath to fan the flames of anticipation before she harshly bit down, feeling her semi-sharp teeth sink into Nyx's flesh.

Instead of the cry of pain she had expected, only a whimper passed those delicate Cupid's bow lips. She felt the tensing of muscles rolling under her teeth, making her moan deep in her throat. Slowly, she eased her teeth from the tender area, gently dancing her tongue over the pulsing area, collecting the blood in a more soothing manner than she had used to obtain it.

She abruptly drew her lips to Nyx's ear, gently purring, "Shall we take this back to my place?" With an impossible amount of sex dripping off her voice, Nyx replied, "Let's take it to mine." As those words spilled from those tainted lips, she broke from Syrin's grip as if it were paper strings, clutching her hand as if it were tethering her to earth as she ripped them from the hold of the dance floor, and into the velvet lined hallway. Shortly after entering aforementioned hallway, Syrin was suddenly dragged through a door she had never noticed since it was camouflaged against the wall so well.

The room itself was small, with a decent sized bed that she was immediately thrown down upon. The sheets were soft, she noticed as the wicked redhead crawled on top of her, pushing and tugging to get Syrin's shirt off and away, as hers was already discarded. As soon as the offending piece of clothing was removed, Syrin loudly voiced her pleasure at the trails of liquid fire Nyx's tongue and mouth left over her body. The sound of the erotic electronic pounded through the walls, turning Syrin into a fluid robot as her hands roughly rubbed against any of Nyx's bare skin she could get her greedy hands on.

Nyx finally travelled up far enough to capture Syrin's mouth in a heated kiss, hands going behind her and fisting in her hair as their tongues began dueling for dominance. Syrin was losing touch with any form of rational thought, it wouldn't have mattered if she had still had it either, she wouldn't have been able to pick dominating or submitting in this situation anyway. On one hand, she would love to see the little devil writhing and withering under her touches, on the other, she was perfectly fine with writhing and withering away to nothing under her touches as well. Oh, the everyday decisions she had to deal with!

Their minds seemed to function as one as they both decided that they were wearing far too many clothes, which proved to be the ultimate challenge. Note: Tight pants are not easy to get off. Be prepared to be a tease and be teased if your pants and your lover's pants do not want to give up their places on your bodies. The bras coming off proved a temporary satisfaction while they heatedly went to battle with each other's pants, occasionally sending out of the way suckling, nipping presents to the exposed globes of flesh.

As the pants and any other remaining garments were peeled away and mentally burned for all the trouble they had caused, both parties paused to take in the glory of the other party. Both sets of eyes, one luminescent green, the other a stormy azure pool raked the other person's body, memorizing each dip, each curve, each skin cell, to further savor the moment that would be over far too soon.

The leaf from the beginning shivers in the wind. Wanting so badly to bend to its will, yet at the same time wanting to remain tethered to the safety that is the tree. There is no escape from the winds torment, no relief from sinful promises whispered through the branches. More leaves fall.

Syrin flips the situation, pinning the lovely object of her desire beneath her, placing a kiss laced with lust onto her lips, breaching the soft membrane of slightly parted lips to tease Nyx's tongue into action, drawing it out of its element before reluctantly leaving it be. As the muscle slips back inside its cavern, Syrin traces a pathway down Nyx's jaw line, crosses to the center of her throat, between the firm mountains already gathering a few fine bruises from the attention, and still dips lower. She pauses at Nyx's navel, roughly tracing her tongue around the rim of the cavern before venturing even lower into the wild seas of Nyx's body.

Her tongue flattens to slide past where the hem of those skintight pants had sat not too long ago before bringing it back to a point. She pauses before she gets to her destination, slipping into a more comfortable position and looking up at Nyx's face, flushed a heavy pink, her eyes half-lidded and dark, and her mouth opened slightly, her breath faintly ghosting past those lips. "Nyx." "Hm?" "Watch me."

As the phrase fell from Syrin's lips, she finally slipped as close as she could get to her destination before touching it. Quickly, she broke eye contact with Nyx long enough to catch a glimpse of those glistening flushed lips that were just exuding the power of desire. It made Syrin fully want what she was about to do to never end.

Slipping her tongue out once more, she deftly parted those lips to find the small bundle of nerves where it hid, before latching over as roughly stroking and suckling on it, alternating between quick light strokes, and hard slow ones. Her eye contact with Nyx was broken as the woman arched beautifully, coming forward to once again lace her fingers through Syrin's hair. As Syrin continued her ministrations, Nyx would groan and allow her fingers to gently tug at Syrin's hair from the roots, letting her name spill from her lips like red wine from a bottle.

Syrin deftly came to a halt over that bundle of nerves, much to Nyx's disdain as she pleaded with Syrin to continue. Syrin dipped lower, allowing her breath to ghost over the center point of Nyx's desire, not quite granted her what she wanted, but not quite letting her hang out to dry.

The leaf wavers in its constant defiance, when a sudden, warm wind out of nowhere begins to languidly caress it. It trembles, the tempting touches of the winds scarcely felt, but to the sudden sensitivity of the leaf, each touch feels like a hammer's blow on an anvil.

"Go on, Nyx. Beg me for it." Nyx whined from the back of her throat, deliciously letting her brows furrow as she warred with herself. "I'm not going to do anything unless you tell me to." "For the love of all the spirits watching us, please! Give me my release!" She cried out in that pleasure-filled painful tone, hands tugging at Syrin's hair once more, some of the blue coming off on her fingers, but neither of them cared.

Almost lovingly, but this wasn't love of course, Syrin granted Nyx's wish, once again slipping her nimble tongue past those lips, but this time ensuring that the adept muscle speared into Nyx's core as far as it would go before flexing itself against Nyx's already flexing walls. Nyx released a moan from deep in her throat, murmuring Syrin's name as her corrupt tongue invaded her where she was most weak, arching once more as a hand slid up her thigh and dexterous fingers began their work on the now neglected bundle of nerves.

Finally, too satisfied by the winds promises to care, too tired of hanging on for so long, slips away, prepared to fall to its colorful death and lay amongst its fallen friends as only another colorful blood splotch on the forest floor. The wind has promised it that it won't fall far, and all the leaf can do now is hope and trust. It has lived long enough.

Electricity pops and crackles along the edges of her body and mind, driving Nyx into a sweet insanity as the heat begins to roil deep inside her, her inner muscles tensing in anticipation. "Oh…God…" Syrin pulls away long enough to murmur, "God isn't here, Syrin is." "Syrin…I…" Syrin feels her own heat building just from pleasuring the woman withering from passion above her. When did this happen? Syrin decided not to care.

As Syrin breached Nyx's opening one final time, the sudden, jerking onset of Nyx's orgasm ripped a strangled cry from her throat, her entire body following suit as she arched and held it, fingers tightening as her walls tried to hold Syrin's tongue inside for just a moment longer. Syrin couldn't help but feel an orgasm seize her body as well, tensing and cutting a moan short as she rode out the few waves of her peaked euphoria. Finally, Nyx slipped from her sexual high, and leisurely pulled Syrin back onto the bed to relax, for they both knew their time was short.

The leaf lets go of all of its tethers to this world, and detaches from the tree, falling into a downward plummet before the warm south wind catches it, encasing the leaf in its warmth.

We are nothing but leaves on a dying wind. Our time is short, so we must learn when it is time to cling to those we love most, and when it is time to simply let them go.