STATION 72 ; mental link

[shri]

KALI She Who is the Great Destroyer ; She Who wears a Garland of Skulls	LAKSHMI She Who Believes in Truth ; She Who is the Mother
DRAUPADI She who was Born of Fire Sacrafice;	DURGA She Who is perpetually endeavouring to protect the weak and the poor and remove their misery.

( CODE BY WHAMBAM )

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[sistershoggoth]

[ 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. ]

Rani--

[ Queenie, Queenie, Queenie; don't stop. ]

[shri]

[ What she doesn't know, the symbiote fills in the gaps - about where Annie wants to be touched. Asking, learning, knowing, down in the same breath, an unforgiving push that she feels her shudders as her own, a dance done in reverse for once. She matches what she gives, her fingers part from skin only to rake that terrible mess of her bound up hair free, the gold of her tikka, the heavy ornamentation of her veil discarded in an easy devesting pull. Unraveled and determined as she catches Annie under her knee, hooks her leg to push it up and back. Pushing to the angle that she can as she shifts down her body further, her mouth flushed with the own heavy press of the way she drags from mouth to neck, not giving her the space to move. A helplessness of her own situation that turns to easy dictation.

Because she has no preference either except in the need that defines so much of herself, to give and give and give, until the fire could find quiet for while, to hold and hold and hold until she could hold onto the things she lost over again.

With it, she grips hard, against her thigh, pushing into her with a steady rock of her hips as she rolls to her knees, that cut battle tense line of muscles that holds herself just above, dragging over her throat, clavicle in a sharp, red staining, kiss. Pushing against that want without giving back anything of the ground she took. ]

[sistershoggoth]

[ Like touching herself, she slips her palm between Rani's legs, the heel of her hand flexed to create its own pressure on the sex that mirrors her own. Lust-drunk, that bead of flesh is the most important, most central, thing in this moment. Hot and full, desirous for contact and sharp, inevitable relief. A two-fold thing, two bodies amplifying into one another; weather fronts colliding into a cyclone of electrified nerve endings.

The wet slit of Lakshmi's body against her fingers is as good as her own, and her hands find their way there past those last layers of trousers.

It is all the same, they are one thing, swollen and red and slick, tasting of musk and want. Annie arcs her back with a hum, a moan, a panting breath, gripping the woman's shoulder as leverage. That's all they need now, just leverage to rub and rut, time to build and the patience to breaker. ]

[shri]

[ In a shudder and a rough mouthed gasp, those carefully lit ties of oil lamps, sent crashing to the floor, the rich material caught and set a light in a fever heat. She doesn't waste time returning the favour as she gets Annie's hips free so barely of her clothes. Not a lot, but more than enough.

( Even if there is a pause, ragged in her movements as she catches Annie's wrist where it slips against her - words that beget feeling beget action in a seamlessly without explanation - no, not some sweet slide, she wants it hard, she wants those fingers up and curling in, she wants the heat of her palm just so - she wants her relief, and she doesn't want it mercifully given, she wants to feel and be felt and curl hard around something solid so deeply inside of herself she can't undone - she is tired and full of teeth and hanging onto her kingdom-body-woman slipping out from that hold and she hangs on in return like the ugliest of her truths - she never learned the art of letting go well, though she has a gift for self denial she would never admit too. )

A denial that she uses now even if she does nothing but shudder, her reaction sharp and quick, before she pulls up again.

Her fingers return quickly to her task, finding her slick and easy and she chuckles breathlessly - appreciatively. How easy this all is, against the bitter aftertaste on the swallow. But she can't care or have a want to know what that regret truly is. Which is appreciated, held up ugly to the light and then discarded like she always does.

She has better things to do when her fingers - one and then another - slide up in return to Annie, and she has a strict purpose here as she heaves herself up. Letting her get the angle she wants as her wrist begins to work her, quick and hard. Her own self disregarded to the want to watch her, bear down over her - gauge how she jumps and reacts, as her speed stays there, elbow planted by Annie's head. Letting her hold fast as she needs to, giving her the caged space to fall apart. A shield of hair falling free over her shoulder, pressing her up by shove of knees to push her easy apart. Because she will have every bit of her, exposed and open and wanting. ]