I Got You

Fri, 20 Mar 2026 00:00:00 +0000

The dilapidated tenement shuddered as a spinner passed overhead with that uncanny blend of whine and growl Imani loathed. “How ugly d’you want this scar to be?” A disapproving tch came from the far corner, but Imani had neither time nor energy to spare.

“W-what?” Imani’s patient gasped, confused and frightened.

“Sit still,” Imani hissed as she resumed stitching, “or it’s gonna be really ugly.”

“B-but m-my—” Too afraid to put word to thoughts.

“You gonna do what I say?”

“Y–yes, Doc Shen.”

Imani’s chocolate-brown eyes flicked up to meet her patient, angry. She waited until the patient’s eyes sank. “You’re both doing great.”

Imani drew a deep breath, filling her lungs with untold pollutants, surely shortening her life, but still glad to be outside. She still wore her “work clothes,” wet with sweat, blood, and some amniotic fluid, but the constant wind that hugged the Sepulveda Sea Wall, and the ocean tang easily overwhelmed all of that. She fumbled a pack of cigarettes out of her pocket—always kept in the plastic—shook one out and brought it to her lips.

The lighter wouldn’t cooperate.

She glared and flicked at it, turning her body one way, then another, trying to shelter the lighter, but most attempts didn’t even produce a spark. “Fuck,” she cursed softly as the lighter slipped from her fingers and bounced along the broken sidewalk.

“I got you.” The voice from the corner. A strong, steady, perfectly vertical blue-orange flame appeared to Imani’s right.

“Thanks,” she said, after her third lungful of opt-in pollutants. “How are they?”

Jude took up position beside Imani, back against the building that, for now, was their medical clinic, looking up at the impossible structure that kept the Pacific from washing all of Los Angeles away for good. “Happy family.” Jude turned her head just enough to study Imani’s profile in the half-light. “Thanks to you.”

Taking another deep breath—ambient pollutants only, this time—Imani allowed herself a ghost of a smile. She tried to return the cigarette to her lips, but found her hand was less cooperative than her lighter had been, and her little indulgence slipped away. “Fuck,” she repeated, watching it come to rest in a puddle, hissing angrily. “How many more?”

“Bad news, Doc. None. You might have to try sleeping for once.” Jude’s teasing was the last thing Imani remembered before the waking world vanished.

The debate had been surprisingly short. Last night’s patients were always going to be the last; an LAPD contact warned the raid was coming. By the time Imani woke to the smell of fresh coffee barely overpowering disinfectant, Dewitt and Chopra were loading the van with equipment. Jude appeared and, with a few careful words, Imani agreed. She’d slept nine hours and was still bone-tired.

She’d earned a break. A short one.

She was asleep in the rusted-out sedan’s passenger seat before Jude pulled away from the curb.

“We can’t afford this,” Imani declared, again, looking around the room. They’d ridden to the 39th floor, then entered the sort of amber-lit, smooth-carpeted hallway Imani had only seen in old vids.

“I told you,” Jude insisted. “I did a job—this is payment.” She secured the retinal-lock on the door, then dropped both duffels they’d brought. She shrugged out of her oversized trench coat and let it fall to the floor. “How about a shower?”

Imani turned so slowly Jude nearly laughed at the sight. “Shower?” she asked.

Jude smiled, inverting her shirt as she pulled it over her head. Her full, pale breasts bounced and wobbled as they were freed. “Yeah, a real one. We can stay in as long as we want.”

The tiny room, just big enough for a sink, a toilet and the promised shower, had filled with steam moments after Jude had turned on the water. She had finished undressing before entering, and now found Imani standing, touching her cheeks in wonder. Jude smiled and placed her hands on Imani’s hips. “You can’t shower like this, Doc.”

Jude’s fingers were efficient, confident, as she unbuttoned Imani’s cream-coloured shirt. She tugged it free of Imani’s threadbare jeans, then set it down carefully on the sink, brushing her bare breasts against Imani’s skin. The jeans followed, then Imani’s bra and finally her panties.

Imani allowed herself to be led into the shower. She marvelled at the water bouncing off her skin, the patterns it made on Jude’s skin as it ran down her back. She caressed Jude’s hip, giving it a squeeze. Imani loved the contrast, her mahogany skin against Jude’s almost milk-pale colouring. She was sliding her fingers up Jude’s belly when the other woman stopped her.

“Not right now, ‘mani.” Simply turning around in the shower meant Jude’s arm, then her hip, then her breasts pressed against Imani’s, but then Jude was turning Imani around, to face away. “Taking care of you first.” She filled her palms with a thick cleansing cream, then brought both arms around Imani’s body, pressing her hips against Imani’s ass while her breasts squished wonderfully against Imani’s shoulder blades.

Imani shivered at the first touch of the cream; it was much colder than the water or her skin, but then Jude’s hands were exploring. Both found Imani’s breasts and began working them in exactly the way she loved best. She moaned softly as her nipples, the colour of dark chocolate, stiffened beneath Jude’s palms. She followed with a lower, louder moan at Jude’s lips against her neck. “Jude…”

“Shhh,” Jude replied, then went back to kissing Imani’s neck, then gave her a gentle bite. She kept one hand on Imani’s breast, the contact firm but almost frictionless with the cream, but the other roamed down. She giggled at the way Imani stiffened and squirmed when her fingers found the stubble on Imani’s mound. Maybe a week since she’d shaved last, Jude guessed, the perfect growth. She loved the way it felt as she moved over, then further down.

Imani widened her stance—balance, and invitation. When Jude’s fingers spread her open, she moaned for a third time, this time long and pleading. Jude obliged. Two fingers pinched Imani’s clit, then Jude’s hand started pumping. Her fingers held Imani’s clit from both sides, but the co-mingled cream and Imani’s juices meant Jude’s fingers were sliding over the sides of Imani’s bud as much as they were pulling it. Imani tried to grab some part of Jude, reaching around behind her, but as Jude worked harder against Imani’s clit and her nipple, she found herself needing both hands to support herself against the shower wall.

Jude’s own breathing was growing ragged as she slid her hand down and curled her middle finger inside Imani’s pussy. The whimper this drew from Imani was almost enough to give Jude her own orgasm, she barely managed to regain her focus. She ground her hips against Imani’s pillowy ass cheeks, while she finger-fucked the dark-skinned woman from behind.

As Jude’s finger, two fingers, then three fingers, pounded harder and faster into Imani’s cunt, Imani felt herself get lightheaded. She’d needed this so much, and Jude—she shuddered as the first wave loomed over her. Jude was whispering in her ear, “I got you, ‘mani. I got you. Let go, I got you.” Jude’s fingers filling her, the way the heel of her palm still attended Imani’s button, the way her coarse pubic hair scratched over Imani’s ass—perfect.

Jude felt Imani tense, then shudder all over; she sped up her delicious assault on Imani’s passage and barely two thrusts later Imani was screaming wordlessly, gushing over Jude’s fingers.

Hours later, Imani lay in bed, studying the patterns of light and shadow on the ceiling. Jude was next to her, smoking silently. The new clinic would come. The exhaustion would come. Jude would disappear again into whatever shadows she always melted into. Not yet. For the next few days, maybe a week, Imani decided she would enjoy this little break.

Knotty

Blade_runner on Knotty Biscotti

I Got You