shri | FADE RIFT [INBOX]

[ Draw her closer she does, both her legs lifted to settle around her. Not to wrap entirely but anchor, hooking around the back of her thighs. That with each roll of their bodies, even as it was slow, too much to be anything less than inimate, it was deeper, more intent for it. Feeling each second of her touch drag like sand through a glass and left her open mouthed and panting. That deep throated sound still in the back of her throat.

That at the very least she has to wet her lips, drag her teeth over again to try and voice and imagine even half that amused playful air. ]

Perhaps. [ Her grin is sharp, looking for the kiss that does not come with a huffed whine. That is almost, almost her name. ] But I hope that means you do not lose your teeth.

[ Surges up, not far, only to snap her own just that inch from her mouth. Laughing breathless as she sunk back. Her head and all that hair grind back into the bed, scratching and sinking into the skin of her back. ]

( Excuse you. Her brows raise, her head cants to the side, and her hand? Stops. To be a good champion, or to have her teeth? It seems challenging to have both at once, although in context its hard to tell if Rani is speaking more literally (good) or playfully (also good), and she might just make a show of mulling it over.

It's important to weigh things up, after all.

Her tongue runs over her teeth, and she is so very serious when she says, )

I think they're all secure.

[ Magni is the little whine, when her fingers stop and Lakshmi bucks fitfully. Wanting the contacting, to keep moving, even slow - demanding it where words would only be half of how her whole body curls in the effort to get her to continue. But it does not and she's -

- Oh, she dared. ]

Are they? [ Is the bite, hot against her tongue as she pushes up, and kissing her is surely not the best way to count, but it certainly gets the job done. Tongue pressing past her lips, lifting her up hard with her hips even if she can hardly say it's to go far with her legs still wrapped tightly around her.

Patience was a virtue, true enough, but one Lakshmi had only so much of, it seemed. Rolling Magni onto her side, so they were facing each other. Pressing their bodies close as could be so that when she rolled down - it was to move them both. Scraping her nails down her back. Fitfully sharp. Taking and taking and taking. ]

( Magni, of course, is perhaps inconveniently clothed. Inconvenient for herself, at this point, because she would like to better feel the rake of those tiger claws down her back, instead of feeling them at her neck and the topmost part of her back, before the wrapping of cloth and leather about her chest and partway over her abdomen steal the sensation from her, and she only gets to hiss a little when her lower back is caught. Suddenly being so focused on Rani's clothes seems like a considerable flaw in her plan, when they're side by side, and Rani is grinding down against her.

She groans into the kiss, not quite retaliating but certainly stoking the intensity of it, feeding the flames of it with her breath and eagerness. Her hand begins to move again, not so slow as before, still in long motions where her fingers threaten to slip away, only to press back in all the quicker, as she sucks Rani's lip.

There are not breath for words or funny responses, only to drink Rani in. )

[ Her clothes are a sudden, and very obvious, inconvenience as she presses them as near to each other as she could. The laces and leather biting into the sensitive bare skin. The rough cloth of her pants that rides up against her inner thigh, where she grips her tightly muscles by hard muscles. Rubbing as they rock together, taking thick, heavy breathes as her fingers slide deep.

When she pulls back - it's a sacrifice to be sure. Yanking at the laces on Magni's back to being to yank them free by the handful. Then pushing, to shove up and over Magni's head - even if that meant losing her fingers. Because once it's gone, she can go for the shirt. An immediate, deliberate focus that words with blackwater-cold, single-minded. ]

( She complies with the rush to pull it all away, even as she has to stop for moments that feel far too long, and casts away the binding leather and cloth, shoves her clothes away so that she can feel her skin pressed to Rani's. )

Manu.

( A murmur, reverent, as she leans forward to suck at her neck, hard, desperate to get her hands back on her and still at the mercy of Rani's whims. )

[ And at long last, after all that muffled attempts at keeping her place and that false preserved dignity, she cannot help but cry out. Her cheek pressing into the pillow, her head tilting away. Forgetting, eagerly so, that anything else mattered when she presses her chest in, aligning them skin to skin from hip to breast, pressing flat together. That her hands find Magni's -

- and it's an easy guide. Not down between them, for what space was there when she dared not even let light separate them? But down her back, over her hip and sliding around the curve of her rear. When she's sure that Magni needs no more prompting, she returns the favour. Unhooking her belt and loosening her pants so that they are free enough for Lakshmi to run her hand similarly down, around. Smoothing over her skin, feeling out scars on her body like the blind looked. Deft, sometimes scratching as she felt her out. Other times, nothing short of tender in how she gripped skin. Soothingly careful. Sometimes neither and she took by handfuls, digging in to cup the curves of her body with blunt fingers and the broad of her palm. ]

( It's impossible to watch to be touching someone so completely, to stay pressed to them, to want that entanglement and almost finding that satisfaction was impossible because she could never be touching her enough. Her clothes are being worked away and she hardly notices, with the heat of their skin pressed together and the salt of Rani's skin on her tongue as she sucks hard at her throat, and her nails pull scratches over the curve of her rear.

At least her height gives her some advantages, and as she presses closer, leans into the contact, she can tease her fingers against Rani again even from this angle, though there are limits to how far she can push in. Maybe that is better; maybe the teasing is what Rani should have, as Magni tilts her mouth closer to murmur against her ear. )

What are your orders, then?

[ She leans up to, like she is half drowned and this is air, her body curving eagerly, fingers splaying wide as she pulls Magni in. As tight as they could be, even when her neck strains, when her lungs burn. ]

I think too much - and I sorely wish not too.

[ Your worst, she means, like the last time, because if Magni wants her to not hold back, then she had best have a reason not to, best be put out of her mind. For that so sorely, where she wants to be, anywhere else but thinking on her own helplessness. That she works better with a focus than to turn her wheels in the dirt - as she leans back, snagging Magni in a kiss, rocking to the beckon of teasing fingers. The art to being blind, that with her eyes closed, that she navigates by touch and sound and taste alone. ]

Edited 2018-09-05 10:26 (UTC)

( She is not without sense or empathy. When Rani says that she thinks too much, what she means is that she feels too much that is painful, and her mind picks over it. Thought and feeling are so wound around each other as to be inextricable, for some, and though she doesn't presume to think she knows Rani, she does think she understands pieces of her.

Magni lets herself be pulled into the kiss, bites down on Ranii's lip, and almost brutally pushes her back, forcing a space between them so that Rani falls back against the mattress, immediately moving over her, too calm to be anything like a prowl, control in her as she hooks one of her hands behind Rani's knee and pulling it up to the side of her hip, and then biting down on Rani's neck, pressing down against her. )

[ She goes with it - a brief resistance only because she must, somehow, even if only a little. Push and pull, where she bucks up into her hold. It doesn't last long or has much strength behind it. Replaced as quickly, as eagerly, as the breath she gasps out when she's pushed onto her back.

She burrows her face against her neck, crying out into her skin. Her leg locks tightly about her lower back, because she wants to be the things she cannot help, and the choice is taken out of her hands. Her arms loop around her shoulders, sliding around to sit palms against broad bones, sinking into shoulder blades. That when she breathes back in, it's shaking but the same - ] Saawariya.

( Magni's hold is patient, steady. As Rani surges, she simply holds onto her, firm. Reassuring, she hopes, because it feels like there is something akin to desperation in the way she's grasping at her.

Her hips roll down, slow, deliberate and hard, and the intake of breath is slow and rasped. )

Saawariya.

( A murmur, an echo, against Rani's neck, and again, spoken at her lips, sharing the same breath. Still a mystery, and she enjoys it so. Another roll of her hips, and her hands brush over her ribs. Slow, and gentle for a moment. )

[ Her eyes open - and she looks up at her in a haze, her gaze dazed almost. But it's a flicker, her eyes heavy-lidded, straining below her. Gripping her with both hands, feeling no more than this, no less than this. How steady a weight Magni is, hard and between her legs, reassuringly firm.

Because she has not the words to tell her that she will turn up in smoke under Magni's hands if not for how they held. A border she makes of herself between them. A tenous pull that when Magni and her fingers are deep into her she grips with both hands, her leg squeezing tightly. ]

( Another slow roll, as her fingertips trace over those taunting hips. )

Keep holding, Manu.

( Softly, as she dips her head, kissing throat, neck, collarbone and dipping her head lower and catch Rani's nipple - the barest brush of her lower lip, a graze of teeth, before she takes it wholly into her mouth. )

[ A mimicry of an order once given before and easier to do now - because at least she is holding to Magni instead of gripping far above and away. Fingers sunk into her like anchor holds, that without thought or want - her spine arching up - she reacts.

It's breathlessly sharp, holding fast, and her nails dig and dig and dig, like they might cut if she presses too hard. But was that not why it had been Magni and no one else? The surety that had been merely a peripheral selection of the tallest person in the room but now was a great deal more - of what Magni could take. That she could sink herself deep against her, into her, and get as good as she gave. ]

( The dig of nails makes her exhale - though she does it slowly, deliberately, so it's a cold exhale of air over sensitive skin, and she leans up to steal another kiss, sucking Manu's lip. The kiss is slow, deliberate, and in contrast to those nails on her skin. Although—

Sharpness, the focus of it, might be what Manu wants. Was it the best thing to give her? Maybe— she's not quite sure.

Her hand trails up the inside of Manu's thigh, slow and deliberate, fingertips pressing hard into the delicate skin, and then stops deliberately short. Waiting, allowing the tension to draw tight, before she pushes two fingers inside Manu, slow and heavy. The slightest drag out, and pressing back in, beginning a slow, slow rhythm.

Forgetting could be drawn out and enjoyed. )

[ She tenses, waiting, waiting, waiting, the heat dropped low and ready. More than ready, pressed up, an arrow waiting to loose. That feeling when squaring up across a field, of something wistfully singleminded, and for all her frustrations, all her bound up needs so tightly into herself. Pinched in her shoulders, driving them back into the bed as she twitches into the cold air. It finally, all snaps, set like a volley. Her legs sliding apart further, giving her space to move.

This won't be fast, but it will surely be maddening. That Magni was such a careful, quiet thing. All watchful. Rough, crooked fingers that pull out the sounds from her, half-held pride that dies a quick death against such a steady onslaught. Each one peaks that little bit louder, each time her fingers slide deep, broad, into her. Lets her fingers return the response, as she scrapes into her back.

And she gets what she wants, boxed in, careful, locked away from everything else. There is something that is as satisfying to pulling out the arrow, even when it washes with blood, she does not have to be, here, anything else but this. ]

Saawariya.

( A quiet hiss as the nails carve their path, one of her forearms braced against the bed to hold her up just enough to spare Manu her full weight. And there is a faint smile as that word, that word that she does not know and does not understand but can feel is echoed back to her, and she catches her Manu with a kiss.

Mine, the kiss says, with it's confidence. Mine, with the quiet possessiveness, the steadiness, the calm certainty. Saawariya.

Gradually, the pace escalates, the pressure of her thumb rests against Manu's clit, and she very lightly begins to tease at it, waiting for some demand to come to indulge further. )

[ Yours, and she has no right to want to be that. To indulge it even for a moment. Kisses her back, even when it could hardly be called so. Panting softly against her lips, letting her arm move to curl around her neck so she might kiss her again. To never part from it. As close as they could be, as mortal bones would let mortal flesh.

Because there's a secret sort of knowledge: to knowing that the back of Magni's neck was so soft. How she could leave half mad dents in the shape of her nails in her skin like fine clay. That was - and she bites, full into her bottom lip, sucking on it - hers. That it was not enough. She strains up, fluttering against that tease, ] Magni. [ That is much less soft, far more telling. She's so close. Just needs, into some damning, consuming way. ]

( A quiet hiss as the bite becomes a pleased hum at the sound of her name, and that fleeting touch becomes a slow, steady roll of pressure. She can feel Manu straining beneath her. Smaller, the way that most people are slighter than her, but neither weak nor fragile. There is strength woven through each part of her, and then a filigree of tenderness. She is soft only when others cannot see it, it seems. She suspects that she might be tender in shows of protectiveness, as some wild mother might be.

Her hand quickens. )

Come. ( Soft - not quite a command, not so presumptuous, but certainly encouragement. )

[ How easy that is - and that is all it needs to be. Her head rolling back, her hips twitching half maddeningly like a puppet to strings. The dancing of shadow shapes like a Kathputli doll. Her mouth falling open until it is barely even a word, or a sense of itself. She scratches her, deep, down her arms, clawing in some maddened grip that is lacking any sense of decency, and oh, if that were not the glorious point.

That when she comes, she does it without a reservation, because she has been asked, and there is no space but to do otherwise, and she gives and gives and gives. Her hair tangled up on the pillow, black and inky, her back twisting sharpy up to press them together and finally, finally, everything else in her mind: forgotten. Just that she is fire, burning from the inside out, that she has only this tinder in front of her to latch onto by both hands. Covering and curling about like flames did. ]

( As Manu reaches the crest of it, Magni's hand begins to slow. She doesn't stop completely until she has ridden out the crashes of sensation, until the fresh stings being drawn up on her skin are stilled. The sting remains, but no new ones are summoned, and that will do.

There is no silence. Breath comes roughly, sheets rasp under the shift of limbs, and Magni drops her head to rest against the line where neck and shoulder meet, tilting her head to press a kiss to Manu's throat. Quiet, but not silent, as she enjoys the comparative stillness. Perhaps it could be peaceful; perhaps she can at least pretend it is, as she slowly draws her hand away. )

FADE RIFT [INBOX]

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