[ In plumes of color, her regrets light and disperse: her longing for Nyx, her regret for ever tasting his fire, her horror at what she had said to Asuka and Murphy, her misery for what she had almost done to Noctis. Not so much forgotten as enshrined in fire, blazed into the mind's eyes, but the weight of it removed. Replaced only with the leaden, persistent pressure of the queen, who takes it all up in demanding hands and refuses to relinquish her terrible grip. It's unusual to Annie, to be manhandled so thoroughly, all dominance and control wrestled out of her without so much as a shot fired.
She has permission here, to be a mewling thing of need, to let her lips bruise and her hips rise.
It could be terrifying, to lose that much control in so fell a swoop, but in this moment it is a relaxation. Floating hopelessly, without any goal of her own. Nothing to prove, nowhere to be, no one to save. Drunk with a lack of purpose. She plays with the draping of fabric around shoulders, the loose folds at the hips, finding more places to skin to meet, carving out a cocoon of rough fabrics around the tangling of warm limbs and fallen hair; humid, glossy.
She just wants to come screaming into Lakshmi's neck, with little preference about how she finds herself there. She could do it like this, gripping hard at the other woman's ass the bring the solid presence of her thigh tight between her legs. She could do it with her own fingers, with a warm arm draped over her, warm breasts pressed into the narrow planes of her shoulder blades. She could maybe even just think herself into it, a swarm of mouths and hands only possible in imagination. It all blossoms equally, luscious and sticky, from her mind. Flesh and longing and the deep spasmodic clutches of lust that strike like lightning on them as her excitement heightens. Dizzying, breathless, wanting. ]
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She has permission here, to be a mewling thing of need, to let her lips bruise and her hips rise.
It could be terrifying, to lose that much control in so fell a swoop, but in this moment it is a relaxation. Floating hopelessly, without any goal of her own. Nothing to prove, nowhere to be, no one to save. Drunk with a lack of purpose. She plays with the draping of fabric around shoulders, the loose folds at the hips, finding more places to skin to meet, carving out a cocoon of rough fabrics around the tangling of warm limbs and fallen hair; humid, glossy.
She just wants to come screaming into Lakshmi's neck, with little preference about how she finds herself there. She could do it like this, gripping hard at the other woman's ass the bring the solid presence of her thigh tight between her legs. She could do it with her own fingers, with a warm arm draped over her, warm breasts pressed into the narrow planes of her shoulder blades. She could maybe even just think herself into it, a swarm of mouths and hands only possible in imagination. It all blossoms equally, luscious and sticky, from her mind. Flesh and longing and the deep spasmodic clutches of lust that strike like lightning on them as her excitement heightens. Dizzying, breathless, wanting. ]
Rani--
[ Queenie, Queenie, Queenie; don't stop. ]