(isn't it better this way? that she could keep demanding it, every drop of rain from an endless storm. from the girl that has a raging tempest inside of her, endlessly it rains down and pours it's never ending downpour on those who dare tried to withstand this beautiful storm. this storm of misery that threatens to drown anyone foolish enough to unleash it. she knows. she knows the way that it rains on them both longer and longer while they're together. into that desert which is unending in its depths of heat and threatening to sink them both down in sand and rain blending together. a bottomless greed, insatiable and cruel, beautiful love. because she doesn't deny it, cellinia wouldn't. not that she'd feed her more of that rain, more of it until they're both left ruined.
until they both drown in it, in what it blooms and what it costs them from the bottomless depths of desire. it didn't matter who the beast was, who the actual one could be. not the way she offers herself so boldly to a woman who never had freedoms that cellinia obtained by killing her own. they're too good at complimenting one another. sinful and beloved daughter, sinful and beloathed daughter. taking both by the throat as they find themselves brought down. the grip of it threatening to suffocate like the rain cellinia brings with her for this lonesome goddess she finds herself devoteed in such ease. that anguish, that crying out of their poor souls is unending in itself. fractured, torn to pieces, aimless, and numbed to everything when they were ruined once before. the world never takes kindly to girls who want nothing more with some manner of innocent sweetness in their hearts. they're nothing to that cruelty and the way it shapes them.
she waits, her back turned and tempting in the black and red strands of her lengthy hair against it. a canvas for her lover when she's pushed firmly against the wall. her forehead, pressed against it with mai exposing every bit of soft skin she could ever desire in the patches of roughness along it. her canvas is somewhere she has more she can mark. somewhere that she feels tension easing from the brush of her hand against the firm muscles. the lap of her tongue against her nape drawing out sweeter sighs, shaky breaths while cellinia braces herself with a hand to the tiles of this wall she's pressed into.
even like this, the corner of her beautiful amber eyes is on mai. as best as she may, they speak plenty of what she wants. they say it more than words alone could ever at this moment where she's pressed firmly between the wall and feeling the length of mai's body against her. ah, she wants to kiss her again already. isn't she utterly hopeless? that she could want her lips so much yet doesn't beg for them. she wants to feel them against her skin.
she wants them to chase after their own insatiable greed in how the goddess wants this wolf all to herself. the wolf who sighs out the prettiest of songs for her lover, her little red riding hood and goddess in how she stands. legs parted enough as mai speaks. while she leaves tender kisses along the expanse of her back, along every inch of it her goddess could ever desire as her own to paint in a color she'd know. this marking that would stay carved into her body.
ruin me, just like this. she mouths it wordlessly, she needs it and finds that urge to ruin her lover in kind is there. so strong and demanding in its own want to never let mai forget about a lonesome beast that wants to be haunted by her, that wants to be cursed to never forget her face and to chase it. chase it until she finds her again, until she can touch her and have mai again. until mai could have the wolf that wanted nothing more than to ruin her, too.
come on, lover, ruin her. the way you want to, the way you have to as a means of tying this lonely and jaded girl to you forever. into having her never leave you alone. her teeth sinking in your skin, claiming you forever as her own while never letting go of you. ruin her so beautifully that she can only dream of you, mai.
that she would haunt the dreams of a wolf and remain, chasing away everything in it's violence.)
F-fuck....(she doesn't always speak crassly, not out of her second language. the words hungry and making her shiver. the teeth biting down in a lovely spot that her lover found. that mai picked out in a tender mark of teeth against it, her sweet sighs are shaky. the softness of her moans echoing against the walls. no, she wasn't wrong. cellinia speaks and purrs out the words she wants to say in it and never says what they mean.
that mai was right, her body betrays her in her silence on the matter in how she shudders at the slow stroke of her clit. the delicious torture, the tease of it in how cellinia doesn't struggle in her surrender. does she say it for her? speak out that poetry she hides behind in utter reverence now and tip them over further, further down in their hearts threatening to swallow them and not let go?) Do you....want me to tell you more words, that you want to know the meaning of? (does she want to hear sweet poetry, something that would add more to the mistakes they've made? in their frustratingly and alluring sound, their temptation and honestly.)
Any words....that you want to know, that you want to hear me say.
[If the downpour that rages within Cellinia-- the deluge that she promises to grace this barren desert with-- could feel as blissful and as cathartic as the hot water streaming upon them from the showerhead, then Mai might find herself wanting to stand under it forever. She would turn her face towards the sky and bask in the distorted relief borne of this tempest, the very same that would wash away a hundred thousand lives in the torrents of its depthless misery. Oh, how Mai would all but beg to be drowned in it herself, only to then offer the storm-bearer the sweetest of kisses in exchange for sparing her life. And with a knowing smile on her lips, she would know that even if the entire world beneath her feet might suffocate in this cruel flood-- even if she might be brought to the brink of death, herself-- Cellinia would draw her back from the depths, completely ruined, but born anew into something more beautiful and cursed.
And perhaps, maybe one day, this rain might even purify her in all of its sin. Imagine that-- these two anguished souls, utterly condemned by this heartless world, sanctified in this strange union. Who would think that these two could be any more than a pair of fools in the throes of their mistakes, one of many in their disappointing lives? Because there is little more foolish than abandoning their responsibilities, their mundane obligations, to sneak away and play at being lovers. Cellinia should have never taunted Mai with salacious fantasies-- and Mai should have never thought herself so bold as to challenge this wolf without considering the consequences that would sweep her up in devoted promises that seem almost too good to be true.
But what do they know? All they're armed with is one another's name, and the molten desire that melts them down with every irrational second that they continue to spend together. All Mai has is that look in Cellinia's eyes, one that threatens to haunt her already, a look that sees something that Mai doesn't. This foolish wolf wants to belong to her, she thinks that Mai is someone worth belonging to. And she would almost pity Cellinia for this mistake, the gravest of all that she's making today-- but she is rotten enough to revel in it, pretend that it's the real thing, not even realizing that it will be.
Mai doesn't see those pretty lips mouthing that silent plea to ruin her, but she absolutely hears Cellinia cursing desperately as soon as her teeth sink into that tender skin. It makes her giddy to hear her pretty wolf reduced to such vulgarity, especially after she has made her desires known so beautifully. Oh, but Mai loves it, the way she can make the pendulum swing between these delicious extremes. A beast is still a beast, after all, no matter how enchanting their declarations.
She smiles in delight against the mark she leaves at Cellinia's neck, already on the warpath to ruining her with the hunger of her mouth and the parallel eagerness of her fingers.]
How cute... [ another bite, above Cellinia's shoulder blade this time ] That you still want to give me lessons while I'm trying to teach you a thing or two.
[A very messed-up lesson of Mai's own, in how one should never beg for some pitiful nobody to devastate them as thoroughly as she intends to. It already seems like Cellinia is learning quite well, already, an avid student whether she's aware of it or not. From her sighs and soft moans reverberating so wonderfully, Mai has all the confirmation she needs that Cellinia is more than happy to surrender to the ruin promised with each glide of her fingers, each kiss along her back.]
You can say whatever you want in that pretty tongue of yours. I know it gets you off, losing yourself little by little while you praise me.
[Oh, how she adores the way Cellinia is shuddering in her hold while she continues to work her fingers steadily between her legs. Mai tightens the arm she has at her waist, pressing her body even closer to the wall while she nibbles lazily at the back of her neck and shoulders.]
How about... Mmm, how about telling me how good I'm making you feel, right now? Tell me how happy you are to fall apart for me again.
[Go on, Cellinia, tell your capricious little goddess these things in that foreign tongue of yours. The wolf need not even translate it-- or rather, Mai doesn't think she has it in her to do so, if the girl's cunning fingers have anything to do with it.]
(isn't it always this way? that storm could drown them, it threatens to. it aches to drag them under into constant rain, and more than that. what if they both went under and came back cursed together? that's what would always be a question hanging in the air between the girls. that someone could want this is the frightening thing in how cellinia chases it. they were playing at it, pretending that for a day this is something more and not realizing the more they speak alone is causing them to fall harder. harder, harder, and harder. they're only unable to see it because neither side has come to realize what was happening. the beast hasn't, and she's the one that told her, to ruin her. give her a sweet nightmare, a sweet haunting full of cursed desires. make her dream of her voice, of mai's lips and her face. that beautiful pale skin she marked so thoroughly earlier in that want to mark her body.
she can't help it, not the way she moans for her. not the way that tightening coil in her belly thrums from how close she's starting to get from slow torture alone. ruin her, lover. make her fall for you so hard in the future she'd give you the world. that she'd whisper feelings she never told another soul. get them from her pretty lips as she's pinned to the wall more. the wolf's head pressed to half look at mai now. she's trying to not dig her nails into the tile. cellinia even attempts to keep herself steady, but it's obvious she would let go soon. sooner rather than later. under the hot water that streams down on them.
she has a name, a name that's beautiful in it's meaning. the meaning of it being heaven, the moon. doesn't it suit her? this pretty wolf that her lover touches so much. she's receptive to that touch, to mai's hands and teeth along her body. that they're both so torn apart by the world they dare to dream about this being the real thing. that someone like cellinia could dare to taunt her into ruining her. that she was desperate to be ruined and ruin her in how those amber eyes are searing in their burn. a bright burn that doesn't fade, so tantalizing in how they beg for it. beg for her lips and teeth along this body in its scars. this body her lover considers perfect, a work of art for her touch.
they don't even have anything more than a name, their desire, their faces memorized. she curses, she utters them at the sensation of teeth. that bite down into her back as her lover carries on this warpath. this ever-growing demand to satisfy a hunger within for herself. cellinia's sighs become sharper for her. shaky, her moans a better song than the music she would play in the car and at home from a dislike for the silence of both. from that need for something to cover it up, the way it gnaws at her mind.
how lonely her wolf must be, must have been without her in her life. how lonely she must be to demand it; for them to be tied together at their very core whenever she near misses it. how mai calls it cute of her to want to speak like that. that she wants to whisper such sweet words, sweet cravings dripping in poisonous sin and promises. affections that both girls would never grow tired of wanting, demanding.)
Toccami....solo così. Voglio che la tua bocca mi perseguiti, voglio che i tuoi occhi non mi lascino mai.(she has to pause, a shudder again while attempting to get her mind together. she wants to try and tell her goddess what she wants to say. what she said. maybe she is terrible at conveying it, everything to do with it. but the lazy nibbles, how her little goddess asked for it did make cellinia want to try.) T-touch me....just like this. I want your mouth to haunt me, I want your eyes to never leave me.
(the words are hissed out, unrestrained in their desires. the want within them. give it to her, little red riding hood. she didn't care how terrible of an idea this is. this was for both sides as they left behind mundane and boring lives for a moment they were anything but that. she can only offer those heated whispers of words far too beautiful for girls like them who were destroyed by the world, offer that sweetness which many would kill for themselves so freely.
this poison that she feels mixed into the heat of passion that both girls ignored, desiring not the antidote of their afflictions. they only wanted that tender cruelty that would break them apart and take more while cursing them further into being shadows of their former selves. torn apart, beautiful, and jaded.)
Voglio ricordare te e il tuo corpo, le tue grida. Il modo in cui gemi per me, il modo in cui io gemo per te....(another shaky pause, another moment of her claws scratching to tiles. it's harder to translate now than it is to talk with how frayed her mind is and yet....) I want to remember you and your body, your cries. The way you moan for me, the way I moan for you....
(oh cellinia, one day you might stop digging yourself further down in your sins. or you might never, she only knows she feels it so strongly. something she can't put a finger on, something that makes her want more than they both could have dreamed of.)
[Is this all it takes to ruin her precious little wolf? Is she going to fall apart so soon, just from Mai's fingers alone rubbing slow, wet circles into that pretty nub of flesh? She really is such a fragile little thing, isn't she, when Mai has her pinned like this? Where is that big bad wolf, now? From all of that tough talk at the beginning, of how she's difficult to tame, she's clearly melting quite easily at being touched like this. Doesn't anyone else give this you, pretty wolf? Because to Mai, it certainly doesn't feel like it. In fact, it feels like the woman in her hold is so starved and needy that it puts Mai's own emptiness to shame. Ah-- what would Mai think if she had any inkling of the loneliness that must be consuming her darling wolf, devouring her to the point where she'd surrender herself to the physical demands of a cruel and greedy girl? Perhaps a better person would want to coax away that loneliness with a kinder touch that subtly conveys a mirrored understanding of the anguish.
So, Mai should be more tender with Cellinia, then, shouldn't she? To surmise that a lover might be bereft of something so easily given in this moment, wouldn't it be far more kind to be gentle, whisper soothing sweet nothings while ushering in the deep relief that accompanies release? When Cellinia turns her face just a bit, her cheek pressed to the tile and her eyes seeking out Mai's, the girl can imagine she sees the flames of a certain kind of desperation dancing in their depths. The way that Cellinia's groans become more drawn-out, more shaky and breathless against the soothing sound of the falling water, causes a needy ache of Mai's own grow between her hips. The wolf wants her eyes to never leave her, does she? That's fine-- their position will leave no room for Cellinia to hide those wonderful expressions from Mai's ravenous stare.
And that's when Mai comes to a surprising conclusion-- she will be kind to Cellinia, even if it's not in the way that a lover ought to be. She'll be good to her in the way that twisted sinners like them deserve, breaking her down sweetly with the hands of someone who knows exactly how to do it. After all, that's the way to tame a beast-- not with a sadistic superiority that crushes her underfoot, but with a tender cruelty that leaves her so euphoric that she'll seek out sanctuary in the poisoned affection of a new master.]
Aww, thank you for teaching me. You're such a good girl...
[Her praise is sincere, even if her gratitude is practically sopping with sarcasm. She wants to make sure that Cellinia gets both, after all. She's earned the praise from shuddering so perfectly whenever Mai strokes her just right, all while making a visible effort to keep her wits about her. 'Touch me... just like this.' Very well-- Mai is only too happy to keep up her good work. Cellinia is just so deliciously sensitive for her, after all. She really wouldn't mind playing with her all night... The prettiest of toys for a girl like Mai, who would explore every inch of her in an effort to really see what she's made of. Call it a force of habit thanks to her training, with her learning the composition of something thoroughly enough to recreate it. Thankfully, she's not restricted by her dismal cursed energy here-- there's no limit to the ecstasy she wants to craft for Cellinia before their time is up.]
Maybe too good, though, since you're still talking...
[Satisfied with the tiny marks her nibbles have left (and in a place that Cellinia would need a mirror to properly appreciate), Mai raises her head to kiss her cheek, her eyes still holding her lover's gaze firmly as she pulls away. Ah, how gorgeous, the searing look within her wolf's eyes, that plea for more, more until she finally reaches that peak. Hm... ]
But, tell me, Cellinia, because I really have to know--
[And right when she knows she has her, Mai stills her movements. It's there, that faint throbbing against her touch as she still cradles Cellinia's clit in her fingers. A familiar self-satisfied smile finds itself on Mai's lips again before she continues her light taunting.]
Just how are you gonna make me cry out for you after I've ruined you completely? You think I'll really let you have that chance?
[She rests her chin atop Cellinia's shoulder, stroking her stomach with the hand around her waist while her other hand remains painfully motionless. Goodness, her nerves are really frayed, aren't they? Cellinia is steadily losing her mind, like this, and Mai can't get enough of neither the sight nor the feeling of the absolute sin she's concocting for the both of them.]
(maybe. with cellinia it was never that easy to tell, she could have been talking big. or another thought, she's restraining herself again. restraining the parts of herself that wants to come out against her wishes; she's every bit some manner of beast no matter how she's taking this lesson. a lesson in which mai might be pushing too close to the sun against instincts. if her other goal was to stir it again, she's on the way there. bringing out something that should never be touched again without considering the consequences. there's no way around that now, is there? the idea that she could get that opportunity to stir that wild beast by touching her in a torturous pace. working her into that slow torture of touch and wanting more than they'd ever both be satisfied by in their hunger and the raging pit of their greed.
which comes as no surprise, her claws scratch the tiles at the light taunts mixed with gratitude. scratches against the surface of them, any deeper, and they'd near break the damn things in an afterthought on what could come from that kind of reaction. that's that issue of going for something teetering often between civilized and uncivilized. all it takes is something to press into buried down instincts, buried down everything. cellinia so happens to have worse than some might have ever expected. not just her instincts, but her everything. the violence that she abandoned, the need for that rush of adrenaline she could get from doing something terrible. something as terrible as her speeding, her fights, the nights she went out to clubs at the behest of friends. each too willing to drag her out, some even concerned about the sight of her after she drinks.
but she's not drunk, she's not even sure what she is. that lonely void is large and never-ending. this storm within her, threatening at the eye of it in every means that it had. cellinia's eyes seem to keep that fire, that searing desperation. that something else within them from the stirring of more bestial instincts as mai's lips press against her cheek. she asked for this, she wanted this. she wanted to be ruined thoroughly, she wants to equally ruin in kind by whatever means she could. in that pretty mouth, in those claws of hers that she refrains from using more than her teeth. a funny thought, something like her can force herself into not raking lines into pale skin that could have stung something fierce and beautifully as extras to the teeth she left.
that praise isn't lost on her, that way she said it even with the way it drips sarcasm and how satisfied this girl must be. at the idea that she could have her like this, the lonesome beast who growls when mai's hand stops. when that taunt leaves her lips, the sight of her pleased with herself while cellinia stills herself. that throbbing ache is painful, she's been losing her mind the more this goes on. slow torture. a lot of slow torture and that feeling of her lover's hand running along her toned stomach. she almost swore she caught a familiar scent, a scent of need of her lover's own.
that tortured look, it becomes something else. tortured, ravenous, and maybe too hungry for anyone sane. anyone would know, they shouldn't try to reason with a wolf. they shouldn't even try to touch a wolf this way without some manner of expectations that it'd get bad for them when mixed with taunts. this could even be another way of ruin, another to set her on the path. it doesn't take her much, it doesn't to get her to react and shift their positions. with mai against the glass instead of the tiles. oh, that look in her eyes must be positively delicious. that snarl, that way she isn't talking.
something teetering feral, something less than gentle in how she responded. isn't it beautiful? this is a beast. this is what they're often warned about, and all of this wolf is for this goddess and her tender cruelty. that poisonous desire she offers the beast, her wolf. her beautiful wolf that she wants to decorate the body of. make a claim of her own about, the toned muscle and how she presses them firmly to the glass beneath the warm water. it didn't feel like it was cleaning them, it only felt as though it's adding more to this now raging fire that's started to thrum in her veins.)
Didn't I say that I want to ruin you too, Mai?
(how it rumbles out of her throat lowly, her lover's name. something violent, something like a purr in those growls. their fathers would surely hate this more. that mai could stir something so "uncivilized" in this golden child. in a snarl of teeth and their bodies. is this what her goddess wanted to see? that wild part of her stirring for her pleasure? this twisted affection a beast could only have when it comes to their lover's and those they want to make theirs?
because she has indeed earned this sight. from that beautiful and searing look of wildness in her amber eyes to everything about it.)
[Now, was it truly Mai's intention to stir up those feral instincts in her lover? It's more apt to say that it's simply an inevitable consequence of the kind of taunting she enjoys doling out-- especially to someone who was practically begging for it! What else is Mai to do with such an appealing request, other than to give it her all in away that only she is able to? Really, if Cellinia was aware of how little Mai tried at anything of importance in her life, she might even feel honored at the concentrated efforts she was putting into fulfilling her plea to be touched and haunted and ruined. This might be the only thing she could ever take so seriously, consequences be damned.
After all, she knows perfectly well that she has a veritable beast at her fingertips. Mai knew the moment Cellinia complained about that oaf confusing a wolf for a cursed spirit, and those sneaky wheels in her head really began to turn once she got that first picture. Honestly, Cellinia, what is all of this but your own consequences for piquing the interest of one very bored and very lonely girl? She very well could have been a professional courier and let Mai's flirtations die off without a response, but look at her, now-- trapped under Mai's hot gaze, tortured by her soft fingers, riled up more and more by her teasing remarks. Here she is, offering this girl the sweetest of phrases, such gallant promises, all while Mai chews them up greedily as fuel for her own merciless endeavors to make her noble little wolf crumble completely for her.
Oh--! But when she feels herself pushed away from her very comfortable place behind Cellinia and now pressed firmly against the glass of the shower, Mai can plainly see that her ruinous path is cut short. What was the last straw, she wonders with a smug look on her face. Was she doing too good of a job at delivering her the devastation she was asking for? She doesn't regret it, not a single bit, that she might have taken it a step too far with ceasing her touch right as Cellinia was so close to coming undone for her. Too bad-- for Cellinia. Mai's fingers miss her already... ]
Mm. I might remember you saying that.
[Goodness, the way she snarls her name really does something to Mai, doesn't it? It makes her feel like she's on fire, the heat blazing in the pit of her stomach raring to lick its way up until it engulfs her very heart. She likes it quite a bit, even more than those pretty foreign pet names that she's still mostly in the dark about. But nothing sounds better than hearing her own name uttered in a way that promises something at once dangerous and delightful. And she won't ask her to say it again, not yet-- perhaps once they're in bed and Mai has the upper hand again-- but it's already burned itself into her mind. Before today, her name might as well have been synonymous with disgrace, disappointment, and annoyance. When had anyone ever said her name like this? Ah, well, she has no desire to find out if anyone else could ever utter it in the same way.]
But I wasn't finished with you, yet. You're really just gonna barge in and take over?
[And it is a sight that so thoroughly delights Mai, witnessing an untamed fire of Cellinia's own, blazing in the heat of her stare. Maybe it isn't so terrible, losing her chance to keep edging and torturing her darling wolf. But, Mai's hands are so empty now, and lonely for more of Cellinia's body after having the opportunity yanked away so rudely. They find their place at her hips, gripping into the flesh with a marked harshness that will undoubtedly leave deep red crescents from her nails.
The two of them look so splendid beneath the stream from the shower, with water collecting heavily at their hair and spilling down their faces in glimmering rivulets. No, it certainly isn't doing much to clean them when they're this committed to messing one another up even more. Nor does it even bother to quench the passionate fire already in the throes of suffocating them entirely. Maybe this entire shower adventure was a terrible idea... But the way Cellinia's wet body feels against Mai's does enough to outright reject that train of thought.]
I liked you better when you had manners, Cellinia. Guess I'll just have to be a little meaner to you whenever you're done trying to ruin me, huh?
[Did Cellinia think she could frighten Mai into submission like this? She should have known from the beginning that any girl who willingly follows a wolf into its lair is a terror all her own.]
(maybe she did do it a little bit too well, but it's nicer seeing her like this isn't it? how driving her to ruin could drag out something so delicious for her, something so tantalizing. the shower was a bad idea. it didn't matter how much of one it was, between the feeling of their bodies together and how cellinia herself showing her lover something more. something more from her darling wolf when mai digs her nails into her hips, she presses them closer. all it would take is the right grind, the right push to tip her over more from their closeness. cellinia shows it too well when she gets this way. it didn't matter if it was only her name said, maybe she should stop using those pretty words. she isn't that silver wolf and her sharp twisted grin. she's something more dangerous in her own way.
she could have been professional, but everything was tempting. the way she twisted into her and pressed her buttons. how mai even promised things herself. that had no denial in the way she ignored professionalism. cellinia could only blame herself more for this. the way they're both in some ways at fault for the mistakes they're making together; the lines raked into her hips feels too good. when was the last time someone got a bit rougher with her? someone that wasn't obsessed with her and wanting to kill her at the same time as being in love with her for a morbid lover's suicide. both dying by one anothers hand.
she growls again, ah, mai might find it hotter of her. she might even want more of it. how she growls, how she responds to the nails digging into her hips like it's among pleasures she rarely gets. she misses her fingers too, how they felt torturing her so thoroughly. her manners coming up causes the wolf to snarl again. teeth shown to her lover with her own hands not as freed in how they press to the glass beside mai. they can wind up in her bed if they wanted to, but both sides are far too stubborn and lit on fire in other means to think about it.
or to care much about the idea of soggy sheets, the two of them wet and tangled, while mai takes that opportunity to do whatever else she's thinking about doing to her. she really should have held back more, but cellinia finds that even difficult when it comes to her lover already.)
I do have manners, Mai, but even I can get impatient. Or are you going to tie my hands together after while you torture me so sweetly more?
(there it is again, the way her name rumbles out of her mouth. like something fierce. something feral, she likes this about her. the way she's a terror and pushes her further. she wouldn't be doing this if she disliked it. it's obvious. she's got the full attention of a wolf and how she's hungry, how that tongue of hers licks her chops as warm water curtains them and soaks them. this is only fueling that need for sins of their own. she wants to be haunted, she wants to be ruined. cellinia even wants to drag her down with her. her darling wolf is so easy to torture, so easy to press into her own desire for whatever path they're after. they're a mess. internally and outwardly. a mess in how they shouldn't be doing this.
yet here they are with the wolf, looking almost as if mai could tip her over however she pleases. coming undone all for her, like the wild animal she is or beneath her as her lover takes control from her thoroughly.)
That sweet cruelty of yours, I can't get enough of it while you keep pushing it further and further. Don't you hold back on me, I won't on you too, Mai.
(if she demands more, cellinia would give it. if she wants to see her let loose, wildly and free then she will. her lips soon find themselves pressed to mai's. there's a roughness to the kiss, not too rough and not too gentle. a balance to that harshness. she doesn't want to not respond in kind to that cruelty, by giving her something exciting to go with it. she did provoke her and that smug face....ah, she loves that too much, too.)
That face of yours, like you think you won....come on, give me more of it. I want to see it when you take more of me as being yours.
(somewhere her father is turning in his grave more, and maybe her grandfather is. how the mighty have fallen, truly. the pride and joy of one family must have lost her mind to go that far. although, maybe less her grandfather turning over the idea. that man has always been accepting of her and her choices.)
Mmm, impatience looks good on you, though. Has anyone ever told you that? Or do they not get to live long enough to tell the tale?
[There she goes again, pushing Cellinia's buttons with a false pivot into affection. The hands at her hips digging even more tightly betray whatever sweetness dances upon her words and lurks within her smile. Still, Mai isn't lying-- she's the type to get her kicks far too often from dragging another to the point of frustration. A shame that it's a wickedness that was never properly disciplined out of her, though maybe the bigger shame is that whatever survival instinct that should warn her against taunting wild beasts is overridden by this wicked streak. Cellinia can bare her teeth in those attractive growls that Mai draws from her in that impatience, she can even cage Mai in against the glass, her eyes flashing wildly while her tongue licks her lips with a palpable danger. The fear is there, after all, though far from the proper kind that would have Mai running away as fast as her human body can take her. Rather, it's a messed up kind of adrenaline rush that keeps her wanting to play the delectable prey offering herself up to the beast's mouth only to snatch herself back and start the chase all over again.
Cellinia's appealing offer to stop her from using her hands causes Mai to giggle mirthfully. It's appealing, isn't it? The manner in which the wolf gives herself up to be restrained, all the while Mai can still use her hands however she pleases. Like now, as she slowly, slowly rakes her fingers up from Cellinia's hips, up her sides, savoring how her nails scrape against the wet flesh at her mercy. Silly little wolf-- don't you see that Mai is the one who needs her hands tied? Or maybe she understands it all too well, and is surrendering even deeper to those sweet cruelties that she's oh so addicted to... ]
Careful, now-- asking me to tie you up. What if I forget to let you go? Poor thing, you might even starve to death unless I remember to come back for you.
[And then Mai thinks on it-- and her train of thought is all too obvious on her face. She wears a look that all but says that maybe she should do it, tie Cellinia up and really, really ruin her. Could she do it? Could she bring this proud, dangerous wolf to a place she can't return from? Mai was almost fooled into thinking that they had reached that point several times up until this moment-- but now, staring back into the lustful eyes of the woman before her, she catches a sliver of light behind a door she wasn't aware of before. And now, there's a budding fear she is almost hesitant to entertain. What then, should her wolf break free? Perhaps she would hunt Mai down, blind to everything but the revenge of pleasure she would enact in return upon this foolish human. It would be a promise fulfilled, one that would drag them both to an inescapable ruin. How delightful.
Mai isn't caught off guard entirely by Cellinia's insistence on a kiss, and from the moment their lips meet, she can feel the aching impatience that compels her wolf to seek her kiss out once again. It tastes different from their earlier passions, insatiable in a more ruinous way, tempered by a yearning that doesn't draw its strength from a lover's kindness. It tastes like Cellinia is nearing her breaking point, and when Mai realizes this, she laughs into their kiss, pulling back to let her amusement really spill free.]
'Think' I've won? You're funny-- I know I've won. Just look at you, trying so hard to be tough with me, when you just can't help but beg for me to domesticate you in the same breath.
[She sneers with more than a touch of derision, freeing one hand to grasp at Cellinia's hair and pull her back, keeping her from satiating her need for another kiss. She can tell that her wolf wants more so badly. What better way to discipline her than deprive her of such a treat?]
You know-- I don't have to do anything more than this, do I? Because it looks like you're already mine, and all I had to do was touch and kiss you a little. Are all wolves as easy as you are, Cellinia? Or did I just luck out with the most desperate pup of the litter?
[And she laughs again, almost drunk with the power she thinks she has over Cellinia right now. The hand at her head brings her closer, closer, almost close enough for another kiss-- but instead Mai darts her tongue out to run against Cellinia's lips in a merciless taunt.]
Tch, nobody has. They're either running away like pathetic weaklings or too scared to talk after I'm through with them.
(how blunt of her, but she isn't wrong. nobody has said this to her. there are no mentions of deaths at her hands, though it's obvious by looking at her now, isn't it? she's got that look to her. that air to her that says this wolf has taken lives, plenty of lives. her tone shows plenty on what she thinks of those foolish enough to bite off more than they could chew and then turning tail to run, the bite to it. the growl blanketing those words. how many have tried to keep up with her, how many have failed? are they even alive? that's the answers that nobody knows. answers that cellinia would never give out to anyone. only one person has done more than her fair share to this wolf, she isn't here. she would have been laughing loudly at their back and forth like it were entertainment to her. because that twisted silver wolf and her blackened heart knows this one too well; she knows her to the point she'd even mention everything all casual.
like a game to her. twisting, untwisting, unraveling and reveling in it. she'd tell stories that would make girls like mai half delight or half fear the depth of misery in all of them. she'd find it amusing. watching the way they twist, their similarities like something special while taunting that mai could never understand cellinia the way she does. but that woman has yet to show again her face. the twisted smile and her blackened desires of taking what she deemed rightfully as hers. she would never tell mai about her, not about their history. how it threatens to take her by the throat and drag her down.
another snarl, the bearing of those teeth. the moment her head is pulled back away by her hair from their kiss, the growling is louder. a rather frightening purr. something that threatens to ruin them both the more she's pressed into. the wolf is such an unusual girl, isn't she? her wolf who has those little thoughts and desires, her wolf who wants so badly to mark her proper as her mate. this fast, this soon. what a mess she is with those thoughts and her own desires. to want these sweet cruelties and more done to her. this twisted affection they're both sharing and indulging in together. what a beast, what a shame of a parentage that had done so much for cellinia. she should be the one being the responsible adult, and here she is, with her little red riding hood and goddess not doing any of that.
ignoring responsibility, ignoring all reason to bare those teeth. like she's so badly wanting to latch down somewhere more noticeable and mark this woman more than she knew. what better way to lure it out of her?) You haven't won until I make you mine fully, until I make you my proper mate. (which is true, even as cellinia hisses it out. she hadn't told mai about that and what it means to be her mate. wolves do mostly take one lover and one alone. lappland had been after that from her, but she never could obtain it from cellinia.)
Or is that going to be what you're after? My teeth in you, giving you that pretty mark of teeth deep in your neck and claiming you fully as mine?
(doesn't it sound lovely for their twisted affections? mai would get to be claimed solely by a ravenous beast who would make her family suffer for daring touch her. is that what she could ever dream of? a gallant beast, wild and willing to tear them to pieces for her? the girl bringing this rain down as she touches her, begs so sweetly for her to touch her?
she's not arguing that she can sound desperate, she knows she is. deep down isn't she a mess? they're both seemingly far off from how they wish to be seen. cellinia who tries to be anything but what she once was, mai who avoids others seeing the way she gets treated. which is why cellinia meets that sneer, that sneer with another growl. the echoes of it loud along the walls when mixed in with that expression that lit up at the idea of genuinely tying her down.)
If you want that, I wouldn't let go of you. Not even for a second, the minute I do bite you that way while I touch you....nobody would stop me from having you.
(not even the zen'in, who would surely be displeased that mai had been taken by a wild animal. a mutt. though she's far better than those fucked up excuses of misery and abuse in people. too willing to drag down others.
too willing to chain them forever to one spot while laughing.)
[After she's through with them-- is that right? Mai has half a mind to make some smart remark that she would still have it in her to talk back after Cellinia was 'through' with her, but something about the gravity of Cellinia's tone has Mai hold her tongue. In place of her reply is a short hum and a delicate raise of her eyebrows. Sure, the two of them have been far too busy with other important matters to trade stories on the more depressing aspects of their lives. Really-- disappointment, death, and other dreary things have no place in this rendezvous (that's decidedly more than just a measly rendezvous, at this point). And while Mai wears her failures deep beneath her pretty, unblemished skin, Cellinia's battle scars are far more obvious if one gets lucky enough to peek beneath her clothes-- or stand bare beneath a running shower with her.
But, so what if her wolf has enjoyed a bit of blood on those beautifully dangerous teeth of hers? That simply means that whoever dared to challenge Cellinia ended up falling short of what was necessary to fell a beast. They deserve those insults, truly. Though Mai's lover sports a map of scars along her body, what else are they but proof that it takes far more than blades or bullets to keep her down for long? 'Pathetic weaklings,' indeed. Mai has already uncovered the proper way to bring the big bad wolf to her knees, and it isn't with conventional weapons-- amusingly enough, though, Mai's own revolver got to enjoy a bit of action without sparing a single round on its target. Not even Mai herself needed to use whatever scraps of cursed energy she would normally cobble together to claim a triumph.
If only her family could see her, now, but they'd almost certainly recoil in disgust at the scene playing out right here. She can see it clearly-- her mother would hide her face in shame, while her father would rage like a ruthless inferno at his useless daughter teetering on the edge of letting some mangy dog mark its territory on his property. It's hilarious, all of it, from this horrid fantasy of her parents, to the solemn declaration Cellinia makes to fulfill her promise to make Mai hers, that monstrous father of hers be damned.
And so, Mai allows herself to dissolve into a fit of laughter, sharp and incredulous and not directed at any one particular person.]
Mate? Seriously, Cellinia-- you didn't really lure me back to your place so you could try to make me your little wife, did you?
[Just uttering those words herself makes Mai laugh even more-- a truly dangerous feat in the face of a snarling wolf with the last vestiges of self-control fraying in real-time right in front of her.
Mate, wife-- it all means the same thing to Mai, who lived her entire life watching the women in her clan be reduced to nothing more than bedmates and broodmares for their cruel-hearted husbands. She had banked on it being her own future, one day. Surely there was someone out there willing to overlook her lack of talent-- lack of worth, really-- in hopes of marrying a close relation of the clan's head. All anyone really needed was her pretty face and attractive figure. Perhaps her offspring might redeem her, some day. Goodness knows that the same could hardly be said for her own mother. But Cellinia's offer-- or is it a threat?-- truly throws Mai for a loop, for she can't fathom what a she-wolf would want with a human girl for a 'proper mate'. This confusion only serves as fuel for her amusement, and by now, Mai's grip at Cellinia's hair and body loosen even more in her snickering.]
Oh, don't tell me-- you're trying to make an honest woman out of me, now, after screwing me in the back of your car. How noble of you.
[Because if that was all it takes to become promised to someone, be it a wolf or a human, then Mai would have been tied to far lesser mates who dared to enjoy her body on a whim. But in the end, not even they ever bothered to claim her-- she was too far beneath them, when all was said and done, after all. And yet, here Cellinia was, knowing far less about Mai (and her many drawbacks) than any of them, and pledging more to Mai than anyone in this entire world would deign to do. She ought to say no, she ought to laugh in her face and shove her away for playing around with her feelings like this. And yet... the hand tangled in Cellinia's hair merely moves to pet her sharp, drenched ears, a tiny gesture of affection in the face of her caustic tongue.]
And that's how I 'win,' huh? With a scar on my neck and a promise from you to never let me go?
[While Mai's tone sounds cynical, and that sneer on her face only feeding the incredulity at what Cellinia proposes, her eyes are alight with an unmistakable glee. There it is again-- her gallant wolf, trying to play the white knight who would wish to claim her, faults and all. So, Cellinia wouldn't let a single soul prevent her from keeping Mai once she's laid her claim, would she? She has no idea that no one in this pitiful world even wants Mai, she doesn't know that her competition is practically nil. And she doesn't know that, even though they loathe her ever so thoroughly, Mai's clan would rather tear her apart themselves than let a beast attempt to cherish her so tenderly. Cellinia doesn't know the jaws of the real monster she'd have to pry Mai from, even once she's marked her truly for her own. It fills Mai to the brim with a twisted delight, a morbid curiosity to see how right she is, and an even more messed up desire to call Cellinia out on her bluff.]
Do it, then-- I'd love to see you try, anyway. But I don't wanna deal with whatever disappointment you feel when you figure out that this is just a losing deal for you.
[This wolf must have more than a few screws loose, if she's chomping at the bit to lay claim to the Zen'in family's trash. The cruel, embittered part of Mai wants to see Cellinia as merely a starved street mutt digging wherever it can for scraps. But there's another part of her, a part that she often wishes she could smother to death but somehow still resurfaces despite her best efforts-- a part of her that imagines her lover as a dutiful hound with a nose for real treasure. Before, she has cast her eyes upon Mai as if she were a thing of value. Mai can never forget that look, she simply can't. Nevertheless, she'll offer a snarky warning, just in case Cellinia needed a little push to retreat from her lofty proposal.]
Guess you'll just have to learn the hard way, like everyone else does.
(of course she wants to correct her, why would she want to make her an honest woman? nothing about cellinia says she'd like the idea of being tied down to some regular housewife. nothing about her even suits the idea. she's every bit the worst nightmare of someone wanting to play at being a proper wife. so what did it matter? she's the girl that's a nightmare of her own in how she carries and handles herself. some even wonder how she's alive. that attitude of hers doesn't do wonders. it's more a miracle whenever someone can get her to take care of herself without her unusual quirks coming into play. that body should be proof enough that cellinia has dealt with more than she'd ever talk about, but the idea of her wanting mai of all people from what little she's gathered of her to be a housewife? dutiful and everything? it seems like she felt something at that assumption.
because that wasn't what her mind considers a mate, her very definition of it differs from the traditional sense of marriage. this isn't something given lightly. wolves do mostly take one mate for life, and this unusual circumstance between them has stirred up something fierce.) Do you really think someone like me would want one of those women who sits pretty and mundane? That I'd expect someone to change for me after you saw how I looked at your age? (now there's a revelation. indeed, that photo and corpselike look to her? she was the same age as mai. she wouldn't be here if that haunting photo said something without the help she received. that look and demeanor she had, like she was dead. supposed to be dead and dreaming of it as time ticked onward. the fact she pulled herself out of it with others helping her....that's a feat in itself. she had someone willing to not give up on her.
it's as if she's got more than what she shows on the surface going on, those thoughts and nightmares of a past long buried and bloody she tries her hardest to pretend isn't there any longer on her heels. which means, cellinia revealed something else in that unexpected confirmation about the photos. another question for her lover to chew on, does that mean she noticed more than those idiots walking the street while they carried on? did it mean she knew a girl felt dead and sullen, more than she'd ever dare to reveal? what was it that cellinia has dealt with, to cause her to notice? answers are harder to come by than more questions about this mystery presented before her little red riding hood.
enough that mai's own mother and father would have surely called for this beast to die had the truth come out. that mai is facing a bona-fide killer of her own kin. patricide isn't a lofty title, and it's something reserved for those willing to commit such a horrible act. she's not the first that's become a lone wolf by wiping out her entire familiga, she wouldn't be the last. especially not for something as horrific a crime as patricide.)
Nor would it be a scar like you're thinking.
(this isn't a bluff, this is serious. locking them both in a game to go with her request to ruin one another. that the wolf means it. she isn't that type to bluff either, one only has to look in those beautiful amber eyes to know. their sharpness, how they seemingly pierce right through anyone so stupid to challenge her. whatever could it mean? to be the lover of a wolf who carries herself the way cellinia does, it means many things. that she felt she desires them to that length. she doesn't deny this as she finds it difficult to not consider the possibility of it happening by first sight. could this be something as warped as a twisted love affair in the making between them? one that could surely end in blood if they were found?
but that's the frightening thing! the stakes would only grow higher, who knows how long before it sets in how much realer this is getting for her wolf. because she isn't retreating, that look in her eyes suggests plenty on that. when she wants something, she chases it. when she desires someone too, she wouldn't give up. that was nothing to her. which brings the bigger and more frightening question, would she stay? would she show her how much of a treasure this woman is by becoming her lover fully, going beyond those lesser women who dared to even try? since cellinia is far more different than them. that air of chivalry aside, everything about her oozes something more than she'd ever reveal to anyone.
past what few bits and pieces she speaks of freely in odd remarks and concerning commentary given about her old life. what even was she before? that's what would never be said. what an oddity her wolf is, a frightening thing when someone gets far enough to almost touch it.)
I only said that it's your win if I do it, if I completely mark you. Somewhere on that pretty skin of yours. Or are you backing out now to retreat at the idea of it happening?
(from the earlier remark, it should be obvious what she thinks of cowards. weak. not even worth her effort, not worth any bit of her gaze on them. nor were they worth her time in general, all they were had been people she killed quickly then left. for those who didn't get away from her in a fight, anyway. anyone else? she would ignore them and go about her day without any words. nothing but cordial while maintaining her distance.
though that also makes it amusing, cellinia would have thought that about mai's very own family. mai was the one who followed her into the wolves den. that means she does think somewhat differently about her, enough to respect her and think she's got more guts than anyone in that damn household. who is crazy enough to follow the big bad wolf into their den, anyway? girls with nothing to lose, just like the wolf herself who's ears twitched into her soft fingers.)
Because here I thought you were ballsy to taunt me, to keep pushing me the way you are like you got nothing to lose. So come on, try and tame me into making you mine fully, Mai.
(once again, her name is purred out that way her lover likes. a challenge, a risky one. who knows what would happen at the end of it....if they're even alive and survive that long. because in their worlds, that's always the risk.)
You know-- anyone worth their salt would kill for a dutiful little wife.
[That is to say, they would be completely disappointed with someone like Mai if they were ever saddled with her in some pointless, lifelong union. Sure, she can know her place for a while, play along with her assigned role until she starts to get cagey and decides to mouth off. And anyone worth their salt would swiftly remind her of what she is and who she belongs to.]
Someone like you, though? I don't know a thing about you, other than that you're a bored little wolf with nothing better to do than snatch up girls to eat.
[And that those wolfish eyes are frighteningly capable of boring into her soul with a devotion that Mai has never seen in any human she's had the misfortune of knowing. Now, though, those same eyes taunt her with the same ruthlessness Mai was so comfortable doling out. How bitter this medicine tastes when forced upon her to swallow, this time. And she loathes it, oh, how annoyingly frustrated it makes her feel to feel the upper hand slipping. She'd rather Cellinia return to looking at her with a misplaced adoration without expecting anything in return-- but it looks like she's caught on to Mai's greedy antics, and is coming to collect.]
But I guess you cleaned up okay, didn't you? If we're talking about people with nothing left to lose, you really had me beat, there.
[That photo is brought to the forefront of her mind again, the misery and emptiness in that Cellinia's eyes making her feel more than just a little bit of empathy. At least Mai has the decency to give a tough front, a snarky and prickly facade, despite her own anguish tethering her to the depths of its void. At least Mai has enough pride to never let the world see her own damning loneliness, let alone allow it to be immortalized in a photo. That Cellinia was no older than Mai and dared not hide how dismal she felt her existence was, even going so far as to keep it as a reminder for any guests to see and judge-- it almost makes Mai feel disgusted on Cellinia's behalf. Almost. She holds her tongue, knowing better than to make any further acidic remarks on a past she has no clue about.
Interesting though, what a far cry from that girl Cellinia is, now. It does beg the question if the wolf became any more well-adjusted after existing as a living corpse. Considering where the two of them find themselves, currently, perhaps the answer to that question is more than a bit complex-- or maybe the answer is simply a resounding 'no.' ]
Funny, though-- earlier you were so adamant about belonging to me, but I don't hear any of that anymore when you're talking about me 'winning' whatever this is. You think I'm the type to back down after I've gotten this far? Don't forget-- I know how to get you right where I want you.
[She hates it, the tone of those words and the insinuation behind them. That Cellinia would look upon her with ridicule should she back off at this point in their morbid little game, rather than with the poisonous worship she's tempted Mai with-- oh, that really fuels this swell of annoyance in her. More than that, though, it makes the desperate and clingy part of her want to meet that challenge with everything she can muster, just so she can steal back that intoxicating adoration and never let it slip through her fingers again. If she has to try and subdue a violent wolf to get her way, she won't shy away with getting a little bloody, herself.]
You can talk tough all you want, Cellinia, but you're not fooling me. When I win, it'll be when I've ruined you. And you'll be so broken in that you're not even gonna be thinking about marking me as a mate.
[She draws out that last word with a mocking lilt to her voice, eyeing Cellinia like this honorable offer of hers means so little to Mai. Show her exactly what being chosen for a mate is worth, pretty wolf. Slash away this troublesome girl's ignorance of what she's falling deeper and deeper into with every second she doesn't back away from Cellinia's risky challenge. Because Mai still has some fight in her, after all, despite every warning and survival instinct begging her to retreat from the beast's lair.]
So, then-- are you in that much of a hurry for me to tame you? Or can I squeeze a few more manners out of you so I can finish my shower?
(because she isn't them, she won't be. what she is, is something else entirely. they're all fortunate that she never did become that dutiful wife her father wanted to be; she never would have survived it for long. not from those raging instincts, the desire for violence. that underlying urge for it. she's a natural-born prodigy of something as frightening as death and dealing it in how she can change her demeanor into being anything but normal. that side of her that she always tries to keep further down away from others. nobody needed to see her like the way she had been before; that wolf who would have taken lives mercilessly. it didn't matter if nobody knew about her being this terrible. not even about the cause of the sickness, the cause of her own tiredness. she's here, she's freed from all of it. or that's what the wolf has often told herself.
which is why she finds it easy to call out others, she knows too well some things. she's proof enough of someone being worse off than she'd care to admit. but that didn't mean those taunting eyes and their ruthlessness didn't have that devotion to them. because she does this exactly due to those confusing feelings. admiration, devotion, and worship of a girl that has never had it once in her life. how much of it does she understand? don't you care to find out and learn now, lover? how she would make your family pay, how she'd while covered in blood kiss you so sweetly? why not the idea of her granting you that freedom she took by force?
there is so much more underneath it, that intoxicating adoration is only the beginning in how serious her gaze is. the sight of her issuing a challenge so fiercely. whatever is this to anyone else? they'd never understand the feelings a beast like her could ever have when met with someone that has suffered anguish that reaches down into her very soul. the agony that she knows all too well when mai speaks about it. about her in those photos again.)
You're right. I had absolutely nothing.
(another bone chilling admission. what did she mean by that? surely someone like her would have had people to rely on, people that cared about her to that point. right? the answer to that won't be mentioned. her sole saving grace came from one concerned beast, and that was that. nobody cared about the sole survivor. she who burned everything in fire then left behind the corpses in blood, in the rain that she smells so thickly of often.
but she says nothing more on it, she won't. what she instead does is reach to take mai's other hand. her own so very rough, so worn and having had taken so many lives. she does this because she won't elaborate, with the way her lips press to the top of it like something half chivalrous, half not. devoted and wild, two halves that would always exist of this wolf. the pretty wolf who would not back down from the promised challenge she gives her lover. she wouldn't just show her, she'd teach her what it means to belong to someone like her.)
I'll ruin you beautifully in kind, Mai. Don't even doubt that for a second.
(no, that tone says this is a promise. another vow, devoted and more than that. she would ruin this goddess beautifully. even as she steps away from pinning her, her hand holding mai's while she pulls her in closely. like she wants to whisper a secret, but the reality is more than that. she wants to touch and be touched in kind. those searing eyes are all hers, the fire that burns in them and everything. nobody has gotten these reactions from the wolf, so perhaps mai can say she's on the right track.)
Then touch me, I'll burn your body in my mind as you do mine for this.
(come on, pretty goddess, she'll make you feel like you belong and more.)
[No, Cellinia isn't like them, but Mai can't tell what exactly she is. She's a mystery that Mai feels more and more compelled to rip open, letting her secrets spill all over the ground so that she can rake through them like a scavenger. And it doesn't really matter if she cuts her fingers on the shards, the blades that lurk in the blood-soaked past trailing behind Cellinia like a hungry shadow. There has to be something that Mai can grab, something that she can keep, something she can wield against this wolf in order to keep her right where she has her.]
Got a little more than 'nothing,' now, though.
[And Mai doesn't just mean herself, caught in the clutches of this wolf deep in her lair. Even though there's an exit in sight, she averts her eyes, only wanting to watch her captor carefully. Mai wants to search her, wants to find where that dead-eyed girl in that picture finally became this ravenous wolf pinning her against the shower. If only she could see where the threads of the past tied in knots with those of the present-- if only she could discern a similar path out of her own grim life. Ah, is that jealousy stirring in her again? This rotten feeling that has her delusional to think that, if she should be the one to sink her teeth into her lover, she might be able to taste the secrets to freedom, herself.
Truthfully, the sticky feeling of jealousy is far better than whatever familiarity arises at Cellinia's icy admission at a depthless existence of emptiness. If this wolf can sniff out even a hint of a similarity within her, it would mortify Mai. Don't look at her, don't look at her like they're the same. For she has so little left-- close to nothing, herself. And she'll be damned if she ends up being pitied by Cellinia for it.
She'd rather be ruined beautifully a million times over than find herself in that position.]
....We'll see about that.
[Of course, Mai doesn't doubt it, no matter how strongly she wants to end up the victor. She can feel it in the heat of the kiss that Cellinia presses to her hand, that this promise is so close to being fulfilled. Mai beholds this display with an impatience that's nearly splintering at the edges. Damn this wolf, pulling her between extremes like this.]
I knew it, though. I knew getting involved with you would give me a headache.
[Humans are a headache, too, but at least they're boring enough for her to dismiss once she's had enough. This wolf has her claws sunk into her but deep, now, and Mai is smart enough to recognize that pulling herself away would mean tearing chunks of her flesh out in the efforts. Not that she even entertains the idea of being that kind of coward-- Cellinia won't get the satisfaction of seeing Mai as the one to retreat with her tail between her legs. No, but she'll give her another manner of satisfaction, something far more mutually beneficial.
This attempt at a shower is a bust, and Mai has given up on the idea of getting properly clean. The water still runs over them, a touch cooler now, though does it really matter when their blood is still running hot from all of their taunting? She lets Cellinia pull her close, their hands still linked, and Mai steels herself again to rise to the challenge posed to her. Bracing her free hand at the back of Cellinia's neck, she brings her in tightly for a deep kiss, practically willing the taste of frustration to be traded between their tongues. Through heavy droplets of water collecting upon her eyelashes, Mai watches Cellinia with a growing exasperation towards those gallant words and those taunting eyes. Then, with an audible smack, she abruptly breaks the kiss.]
...Whatever.
[This annoyed utterance is more towards herself than anything. Her hand squeezes firmly at Cellinia's, fingernails digging slightly into that roughened palm.]
(isn't it always interesting that way? running into someone that knows too well. that past of hers, shrouded in blood and rain would only serve to cut them both deeper. whatever she could grab on to would only be a further cut of thorns to them both, because cellinia avoids it all. they're similar. it's the depressing fact at the end of the day, neither the pretty wolf nor her beautiful goddess considers it. they're the same in some ways from how they've carried themselves even as cellinia found herself with freedom that had been taken by force. killing the parent, the family. she's the one that can get dragged down to hell at any time before this goddess of hers.
there is no pity, she doesn't pity this girl. she only knows as depressing further as the idea is that they're both bound to be doomed. born to die, born to fade away into something that would have ended them. something that should have killed the wolf while she tried to escape that soul crushing hell she once had been part of. she did have a little more than nothing, her eyes are on one person and that understanding is what seems to gnaw at them. they know too well, they would never say it or admit it. the wolf is not going to say it even if she did come to realize this later.
because they both know, saying it out loud would only destroy them further. they've lost more than they'd tell anyone. cellinia almost surely would not tell her lover everything. not about those days when she found herself going through the motions. how long did she dream of dying until those dreams ended? it took a long time, that was the unsaid part. that bone chilling and empty stare had faded as life returned throughout seven years to a woman that had some manner of luck on her side. not good luck, not all the time.
but they didn't need to think about it. her hand is in mai's own, her thoughts are anywhere other than that history she once had been part of. the bloodstained streets and dreary rain that constantly fell on her, on others like it was a constant weeping from the sky about the lives taken.
she didn't need to know about it. while she holds her hand so tenderly, while she pushes forth feelings they both could hardly parse with where they are. it'd be a miracle if they did know what this feeling was, so soon, so fast. they didn't. not the way that cellinia runs her rough fingertips along mai's hand. that same gallant way she has. the game has been set, the challenge made while they're both unwilling to back down from a certain truth. they're only going to fall in too deep. the comment about her being a headache was something she would have snorted at, if cellinia had it in her.
she could say that she felt the same about mai in a way, but doesn't. because they both know it's a mutual fact this time that wouldn't change. cellinia is a headache to deal with, there's a reason why her friends often struggle to tell what she's thinking or feeling. a bigger struggle to know what she's thinking about in particular between her and her pretty goddess. they're impatient.
they're both feeling it even as she gets pulled in. tight, the kiss deep and frustrated, hungering. she almost melts to it before it breaks, the annoyance evident in mai's tone as amber are on hazel. she didn't say it would be that easy. it won't be easy, not on both of them whenever she almost loses herself in those eyes again from their closeness. that is, until she reaches as mai requested with her free hand to turn the water off. the coolness of it did nothing for stopping that heat thrumming in her veins. she's on fire, lit up and craving into being this ravenous beast before mai.
her hand squeezes mai's own in return, the feeling of nails slightly in her palm doesn't deter her much. if anything, roughness has always been something she enjoys, but she isn't the sort to go too far with that. the kind with nails in her back and teeth leaving marks was more than enough for this big bad wolf. little red riding hood doesn't need to fear that much whenever she opens the door for her lover.)
My room, then.
(the secret of it might not ever be obtained this early, but that didn't mean she was against the idea of her lover taking what freedom she's given greedily. doesn't she deserve that, too? freedom. the taste of it, the need of it. all at her fingertips and they both hadn't known that themselves. their story could end in blood spilled and them disappearing, or in them quietly fading like a real pair of lovers on the run from what awaits.
cellinia for her part is dutiful and minding her "manners" again. she's curious, anyway. what is mai planning to do in her bedroom when she gets the wolf beneath her and that body the goddess considers perfect? is she going to mark her more as her canvas?
[It has long been an established fact that hell will likely claim them both. Cellinia can be dragged down for the sins she willingly committed against her family, whereas Mai will find herself cast in for the sins that cling to her very DNA. In the eyes of her family, she may as well have disgraced them consciously-- and in the end, she's doing that now, no? Shirking the responsibilities foisted upon her, doing less than the bare minimum, holding her family back yet again with her idleness. Well-- holding each other back is supposed to be a virtue in this country, isn't it?
And here she is, acting like the least virtuous girl of them all. Though, maybe there's something to be said about the way she clings to an affection that will surely slice her heart open viciously, one day. Maybe there is something pure about it, a sliver of purity that lurks beneath layers of bitterness that would only desire to smother the virtue of this twisted pursuit. Could this tiniest of fragments be enough to salvage her soul from being cast into hell? Or perhaps one day, she might see her wolf in the devil's clutches and decide that she would rather embrace her rightful place in the flames than to never taste another drop of that devotion.
It's another thought for another day, one far, far in the future-- provided she makes it through today in one piece. Luck might have been on her side at the commencement of their meeting, but now the playing field has leveled enough that Mai feels the shift of it beneath her feet. Annoying, the real headache of it all. Mai is plenty aware that she is no better, a veritable headache all her own, but that beloved trait of hers hardly affords her the upper hand here, not with the way Cellinia opens the shower door for her, once more falling into the role of the well-mannered lover. Before, she had cornered Mai against the glass, and now she permits her to leave, facilitates her departure for a more promising (and hopefully more successful) endeavor. It certainly feels like she's at the beast's mercy, but like the petulant girl that Mai is, she won't be satisfied until the pendulum swings back in her favor.]
Yeah, yeah. I know where it is.
[Her hand still latched onto Cellinia's, Mai steps out from the confines of the shower with her wolf in tow. Tepid water begins to pool immediately on the tiled ground where her footsteps fall. Someone else's problem, not hers-- she's not the one who needs to mind her manners right now. Let her trail water all the way to bed, it'll be forgotten quickly once she resumes her little warpath. On her way out of the bathroom, Mai catches one last glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her hair frames her face in wet strands from which droplets still fall, and her cheeks are slightly flushed from the temperature. Her expression is far more impatient than before-- but she can still recognize herself. Better not lose, she commands her reflection. Because once this game and this challenge reach their conclusion, Mai doesn't want to recognize herself. She wants to see herself the victor, for once. And Cellinia, well... she doesn't want to recognize her, either, but for a completely different reason.
Reaching the bedroom, Mai loosens her fingers and pulls her hand away entirely, immediately taking a seat at the edge of the bed and looking up at Cellinia still standing only feet away from her. The dampness of her skin finds a new home in the bedsheets beneath her, but something about the odd discomfort of it only heightens the excitement at getting to prove her mettle against a wolf ruled by her enigmatic duality.]
Well? Waiting for an invitation? Come here, then...
[But as soon as the words leave her lips, Mai clamps her mouth shut and a thoughtful look graces her features before she speaks to correct her own suggestion.]
No, wait-- I think I'll be nice and make that little wish of yours come true, Cellinia. I'll even let you thank me when i'm done.
[Whatever does she mean...? She nestles her chin in her open palm and eyes Cellinia cooly as if she knows she's about to utter something rather bold without paying any mind to the impropriety of it all.]
Go and grab me something to tie you to the bedframe with. I don't need you getting any funny ideas and losing your cool on me again.
[There-- some of the mystery is dispelled now, isn't it? Sometimes, being plain about her intentions will earn Mai her way more swiftly than dancing around them. Let's see how quick to obey her pretty wolf still is... ]
(they'll both see one another in hell, won't they? both having had made their choices, deeper down shall they go. not even the devil would part them as they fall to their doom, their lives intertwined while nobody would part them again now that the missing part of themselves was found. cellinia doesn't misbehave again, not from their departure from the bathroom and not even from her noticing her lover's impatience. she did taunt her. she even made it clear that she's still every bit a wolf with or without those manners. this was her challenge offered, it's only fitting that she didn't hold back that she would do more than only want to be ruined. she wants to ruin her too. giving her a heart that has been mishandled so often when that time comes, if ever, in their lives to share it.
but she isn't that capable of it, not the way she would have been in her youth. it's a miracle that the wolf could even give so much of herself now, in bed with a stranger who she had taken that chance with for a change. she doesn't argue, she doesn't fight any further. mercy is there, it even exists within her while her curiosities remain. she could recognize that mai is on the warpath about her interruptions and taunts, their back and forth which had sparked more than a game between a pair of girls who were far too similar. similar enough they'd never admit it. not to anyone more than themselves when it crept in that there was more to them and their meeting than they'd ever know at the time. what mai receives is devotion, the taste of it and the desire to grant it to her.
the water dripping to the floor is something that can be ignored, all along the wooden floors and across from the bathroom. her tail drips the brunt of it, so does that lengthy hair of black and red. cellinia doesn't say a word else, she follows hand-in-hand. her mind is elsewhere, just like her attention is on this girl. watching her every movement and memorizing it. from her steps to how mai's hand felt in her own while she stays near to her goddess.
whenever mai took a seat, she was about ready to get on her knees for her lover again, to be that dutiful wolf until she taunted her so prettily into that ravenous beast she could be. that is, until she had other ideas. cellinia was silent, curious on what was about to be said after being told she could even thank this little red riding hood when she's done. the question is on her tongue, but then mai clarifies. her remark in the shower about tying her down to be at her lover's mercy? that's the least surprising thing of this day from what the wolf thinks about it.
since she did mention it (and really, it was cellinia's idea) so casually, it almost causes her to wonder more what sort of merciless touch her little red riding hood has in mind. there's a pause, but she's checking her night stand. back to her lover again while she sits on the other side of the mattress. close enough to be touched, to be grabbed again if her guard was dropped. maybe it might be, now that's an amusing thought for what is drifting into evening between them.
the glimmers of the sunsetting matches those pretty eyes of her wolf's own when after some shuffling around she takes out what looks to be a red tie. one of the ones she hadn't used yet for her suits, brand new and looking tempting to bind her wrists with. no handcuff surprises, as amusing as the thought is of someone like cellinia carrying handcuffs would be. she didn't seem the type for anything they're doing, that they're indulging in.
some might have even been thrown for a loop after knowing her, though that's what makes it interesting. that she can have more to what once had been a woman expecting her death to come any time, any place and dreaming about it. she doesn't argue, not about her suggestion from earlier when that red tie is held out to her lover. this is playing a game against a predator, isn't it? they know when to strike and when to wait. that doesn't mean cellinia is foolish enough to be impatient more than earlier and hastier than how she acted.)
Will this do, then?
(it's not like her room has a lot to be used for this, for sinful indulgences and lover's spending time in bed with her. she's got more than this one tucked away in that drawer, those beautiful eyes are looking at mai in all the right ways again. despite that lurking beast beneath them, she's captivated and drawn in. could this ever be a good idea to have a wolf solely as hers, one like cellinia who may tear to pieces anyone that pushes their luck too far?
or is it only fitting? the way they'd tear one another in a more figurative sense to pieces, how they'd drag one another through that fire called their lives. the more hellish side being mai's while cellinia's own hell had faded to nothing aside from ash and burnout embers.
unsurprisingly, the radio plays in the background. nothing too discernable yet, but she did reach with the remote to turn it up. if only to give them a cover while not allowing her poor neighbors to come over disturbed by the loud sounds of music in the background. the song itself seems to be almost over before it begins the next act of their twisted affections and everything that would blossom eventually into a love that might never stop haunting both wolf and little red riding hood.)
[Wonderful-- it seems like her darling wolf is in an agreeable enough mood to go along with her request. Or demand, rather, from the way Mai's expression leaves no room for discussion. It doesn't escape the girl's attention, though, the flash of curiosity in those lovely eyes before Cellinia wordlessly saunters over to her nightstand to rummage around for something suitable. Wondering what exactly Mai has in store for you, are you, little wolf? Oh, what manner of ruin can she wreak upon your body once she has your hands tied up and away from being of any sort of use? That remains to be seen-- but worry not, the wait shouldn't be terribly long. Unless Mai is feeling a deeper sense of mischief than she's already entertaining.
As it is, her imagination is plenty occupied with the different ways she plans on touching and teasing Cellinia once she has her tightly secured. What would her lover enjoy most-- and what would make her crumble so thoroughly for her precious goddess? Something tells Mai that there may be some overlap between the two.
Her first order of business, of course, will be completing her work upon that perfect canvas, marking Cellinia up anywhere there's a blank space begging for her teeth to sink in and her lips to suckle firmly. Hazel eyes trail eagerly over her lover's body bathed in the warmth of the golden hour sifting in from a partially shuttered window. A devastating beauty, really, even with the dark ink running across her back and arms, decorating her skin dangerously with images of ferocity and nature's splendor.
Away from Cellinia's immediate attention, now it's Mai's turn to eye her curiously. She's never before laid her eyes upon a woman who styled herself like some sort of yakuza kingpin-- strange, Mai never got the impression that the delivery service she was utilizing was mob-affiliated. It would be just Mai's luck, wouldn't it, to get herself caught up in something perilous while chasing some self-satisfaction? Yet, in an odd way, it doesn't truly frighten Mai as it ought to if she were anyone normal, a girl who wasn't born into a rather merciless family of her own. And Mai is used to their cold and unfeeling eyes whenever they find themselves upon her, is used to shouldering whatever cruelties and insults they see fit to bestow upon her just for existing. Cellinia doesn't scare her in this respect-- if only because she's treated Mai with a tenderness that doesn't match up to her tough exterior.
Well, Cellinia's mysteries pile up more and more, don't they? The vicious eyes of the wolf tattooed upon her back is at odds with the calm expression she wears while she draws out a handful of something red from the nightstand. A tie, it seems, of quality fabric that should be able to withstand some tension from what they're about to get up to.]
It'll work. Better than nothing.
[Some snarky remark is smothered before it rolls off her tongue-- something about how she was honestly surprised that Cellinia didn't have a leash hanging around here somewhere that would do the trick just as well. It's not that she is purposefully treading lightly, but it would be a pain if she provoked any annoyance once more in the wolf before she had her tied down and unable to act on said annoyance.
Accepting the tie held out to her, Mai runs her fingers over the smooth fabric and smiles softly to herself. What manner of predator offers herself to be captured so readily? Her wolf is a rare thing, isn't she? Wearing the appearance of someone who would gladly dine on savagery, while once more beholding her with those eyes-- the ones that Mai can't help but desire all the more strongly. As soon as she gets her way, they won't be able to look anywhere else but at Mai while she makes good on her promise.
She waits for Cellinia to set down the remote to her radio before taking her hand and pulling her atop the bed, her eyes rather mirthful once the sounds of music fill the otherwise quiet bedroom more loudly than earlier.]
Ha, don't tell me you're shy now. I thought you liked showing off a little.
[It's fine, Mai will hardly object despite the teasing she doles out. There's no shortage of amusement that she feels about it, though-- that Cellinia would want to be considerate of either the neighbors or the two of them is but another facet of her that goes at odds with her dangerous appearance. Has Mai lucked out-- or has she simply grown accustomed to this peculiar headache?
Perhaps the answer to that line of questioning doesn't truly matter all that much, with how Mai presses a hand against Cellinia's chest to urge her down atop the bed. She's committed, after all, to seeing this through to the end, wherever the end might have her. The little smirk on her lips makes it obvious that her greatest ally for this next act will be her fearlessness.]
Be good for me, Cellinia.
[And then Mai straddles her, gathering her wrists in her hands and beginning to wind the blood-red fabric around them before weaving it through the openings in the bed frame. She makes as many passes as the length of the tie permits, finishing her work with a couple of sturdy knots. Not bad, but nothing a bit more practice can't fix.]
(it's funny, funny how she isn't part of anything owned by yakuza knowing their stance typically. what she came from was something similar before she left behind that life. mai wasn't far from the truth. the truth had been this wolf's origin was cemented in something of crime and honor. deaths were a norm, so was the loss of more than that when family was never enough. blood hardly stopped even the most hardened of criminals in that world; they all knew nothing about it and the reality of how similar their worlds were. that cellinia came from a world comprised of a men's club herself. men expected their women to be obedient girls, not the kind that steals cars and goes out having their own fun however they can get it. that vicious wolf on her back is faced by another, ready to pounce on it like it had done something terrible. something wrong for provoking it amidst a mix of woodland touches and rain.
she doesn't say anything else (not yet) for the time being, her attention once again is distracted by those hazel eyes whenever she gets pulled into bed for her. her hand reaches for the moment after the teasing to brush against mai's cheek. cellinia's fingertips, light and tender. it's harder not to touch her for now, the same way it isn't easy for her to not look at her lover's pretty face. mai might think cellinia has a perfect body, but she could say it more about her goddess and little red riding hood. that mai's own is much more perfect to the touch, to look at and marvel at with those beautiful eyes of hers.
the golden hour acts as a backdrop to the mood, highlighting their bodies more and the color of ink along cellinia's arms. flowers and storms. she didn't seem the type for them, and yet she likes them as much as she does the oncoming storm. it's a contrast to the imagery along her skin, the places that mai marked along her back and along her neck, her collar.)
I thought you'd only want to hear me, as much as I want to only hear you.
(never mind that she isn't the best of flirts, but she tries for this girl. the teasing met with her pretty words again. her lips are against mai's briefly, to steal a quick kiss whenever her back touches the mattress, the blankets on top of it. there is no struggle, she doesn't resist her lover tying those battle worn hands above her head. she's at her mercy since this was cellinia's idea. at the mercy of her goddess, this wolf has her body, and it's beautiful canvas waiting for her pretty lips. for her teeth to mark more flesh along the many scars covering this girl.
maybe it was for another reason as sweet as that, as romantic as it sounds. that she wants only the sounds she makes and the sounds mai makes to be all for them alone. nobody else, nobody can have them in the most tender of ways. in how they might get with being unable to help themselves throughout this evening alone where cellinia relaxes. her arms are at ease for being tied up like this, no visible discomfort from the sturdy knots tied into that tie she had given her beautiful goddess.)
But that doesn't mean I wouldn't show off your marks you give me....
(because she would, she has with those tattooed arms being exposed earlier. obviously she receives dirty looks on occasion from them if she doesn't hide said arms, some even judging before they speak to her in her already interesting life. among misfits and weirdos who would draw attention of their own while cellinia is the one with the biggest target on her back. foreign, tattoos, and someone as beautifully handsome as she is gets too much attention.
but that didn't matter, not right now. not when she looks up at mai as the music shifts into something slower. now there is nothing holding them back, unlike in the car which was cramped and less spacious....her bed has plenty of room. more than enough for her lover to take advantage of while touching her most precious wolf. her wolf and those eyes she only wants to look at her, to see giving her reverence and devotion just like this in their own little world. they didn't need to know where she was.
(the voice over the radio is a woman's voice, humming out: so many mornings, i woke up confused. in my dreams, i do anything i want to you....)
come on, pretty little red riding hood, pretty goddess. she wants you to touch her, she wants to bury you in tenderness against the lurking beast within her eyes. she wants all of you for herself, or that's what she would realize much later.)
I'll be as good as you want me to be, Mai.
(however long that lasts, it would be another mystery. a wolf is still a wolf, but she likes to go against that side of herself. she likes to. because that makes things interesting, seeing a wild animal go against their own instincts while still holding that danger to them. a predator that wants to not consume their love viciously, but in something more than that.
she's every bit looking forward to this, to seeing how mai would ruin her and planning to ruin her lover tenderly in kind.)
[It isn't lost on Mai, the sweetness of Cellinia's brief touch against her cheek and the kiss she steals once Mai has her flat against the mattress. She lets her have her way, biting back some bratty remark that she ought to keep her hands to herself. Why would Mai deny her when Cellinia won't be free to use those lovely hands of hers for much longer? Those departing fingertips leave her skin tingling, her kiss leaves Mai desiring another-- and she'll claim more, of course, soon enough. But it's this kiss, one given with an arresting expression of adoration, that Mai feels a pang of longing for. In a silly little way, it almost feels like a final good-bye, a farewell to this Cellinia before Mai really lays claim to her body. And she has no clue when enough will be enough for her, when she'll decide that she's 'finished' with her lover, but a strange feeling that stirs in the pit of her belly tells her that something will have changed once she's brought her to ruin.
What would that 'something' be? Mai wants to shove that gnawing feeling away, if only for now, lest it try to cling sneakily to every touch and kiss she leaves upon this pretty canvas spread out beneath her. Nothing should change, even though everything already has between them by now. They're no longer in the cramped backseat of Cellinia's car, where they could claim the excuse of a quick, meaningless indulgence of lust. They're here now, bodies damp from the shower, enjoying a far more comfortable playground atop Cellinia's bed, trading little flirtations while the music shields them from any nosy neighbors. It's certainly romantic, far more than it ought to be for what they're here to do.
She stifles a laugh at the thought of it-- she can't acknowledge it aloud. Mai doesn't want to let Cellinia know where her thoughts wander to, how soft they can become despite herself. She's here to ruin this handsome wolf, but... the more she looks down at her, with Cellinia well at ease with her arms bound over her head and staring up at Mai with a marked tenderness, the more Mai's initial pettiness towards the endeavor seems to abate.]
You're so agreeable, now. I really like you, like this.
[ 'So we're there, now it's real Now that you have me, do you want me still?'
Well, that goes without saying-- of course Mai wants her pretty badly. Still kneeling over her, Mai takes Cellinia's face between her two hands, cupping her jaw ever so sweetly, and leans in closer for a kiss. Hers to claim, this time. And everything is hers, now, every single bit of Cellinia is her to claim. It's just like she wanted, no? And her precious wolf seems only too happy to present it to her, to offer herself up both bound and reverent for a girl she recognizes as so direly greedy. Good-- let her taste that greed again in each deep kiss that Mai takes from her, gives her. The line between give and take blurs, bleeding into either side until it becomes utterly negligible. Yet another subtle change, the slow disappearance of an 'upper hand,' despite their distinct positions here.
Nevertheless, Mai hums softly into their kisses, drawing out each connection of their lips before separating for the briefest of moments only to return again, taking Cellinia deeper and giving herself more deeply in return. This dance of ruin is hers to guide and orchestrate, but she can't help but fall just a bit more under the influence of Cellinia's eyes. There are many different ways to ruin someone... and Mai feels compelled to heed her own invisible scars, not wishing for them to influence her into clawing her lover and leaving behind cruel traces of disdain. No, the ruin that she's decided on will haunt them forever-- an apparition that Mai decides that she will create, herself, conjuring it into existence despite never having felt its passionate presence.
The singer croons on-- 'I'm tired of loving somebody that's not mine...'
It is rather tiring, no? Wasting love on someone who would never turn back and repay it, and then holding onto that love tightly, letting it stagnate and fester into something so despair-bitten that it might as well not even be called 'love.' What good was such a feeling, anyway? Mai had never even seen her parents love one another-- that heartless man behaved as if he was ignorant of the very emotion, that even entertaining it would have been so far beneath him that the thought alone would provoke his ire. Her mother was like any other woman in that horrible place, with obedience being her tribute to love, an obedience to a system that demanded her own hatred towards the children she carried and birthed. And because her parents refused to love her-- her and Maki-- Mai finds herself unable to recognize that feeling in the world around her. The love she once clung onto, devoted to her sister, was rendered worthless, as well. Not enough to keep her close, not enough to even keep Mai safe in the swell of hatred ever-ready to snuff out that dying ember of purity in her heart.
So-- this must not be love. As Mai dances her soft fingertips down Cellinia's neck, pressing her palm flat as she makes her way along her sternum, she repeats this silently to herself. This isn't love, it can't be. She won't let it be so-- even if her say in the matter has long since been yanked out of her grasp.]
You'll keep your eyes on me, won't you?
[Her eyes are alight with mischief, but her question is breathed out with an affection that isn't quite befitting of a goddess of ruinous delight. But Mai knows, already, that Cellinia isn't the type to close her eyes, or keep them trained on the ceiling while she wishes for this encounter to be over and done with. She knows that those gorgeous eyes won't ever leave her-- but Mai wants to hear her stoic wolf declare herself to her again.]
Because you might not ever get a show like this, again.
[Though reluctant to cease their kisses once more, Mai shifts back just enough for her to dip her head and begin to press her lips against Cellinia's ribs, nibbling aimlessly about the expanse of damp skin.]
(it goes without saying, she knows it'd be some time before she gets to touch her lover again. before she can kiss her more herself, before she can give her touches so tender that she couldn't help herself. was it love, was it something similar to it in the way her hands would touch this girl who had so precious little in her life? she touches her with more care, wordlessly and without reservation when it comes to these moments. cellinia gives her more of it, this feeling neither could put to words. they're hopeless, aren't they? they're supposed to be the girls that don't give much of a damn about anything in their lives, those girls that can disappear in the blink of an eye before anyone could ever know them. there's nothing there to stop them from being not found again if they so willed it.
but they're not that far gone, or so cellinia would tell herself. she says it often, no matter the truth of her coming close to doing just that had she not been found. how much are they both going to be ruined? would it be in a way that would make them both dare to dream to disappear from the lives of others like those stories of young lovers who got bigger dreams in their heads? big dreams of escaping their own hell on earth while things were less than happy on the way to that would be paradise. they didn't have that expectation, that desire. not the way that some would have gotten in their heads. they weren't a pair of fairytale lovers; they were the two that found themselves destroyed. what happy ending could they ever ask for if it was on the table? cellinia who once dreamed of dying and mai who was torn apart equally by this world of theirs they both were part of.
wouldn't that be a joke? they're not in love, they so clearly tell themselves. love at first sight doesn't exist, it doesn't. vulnerability is a weakness that both girls can never afford. what's the point of it as they find themselves doing something they shouldn't have ever done? paradise never suited them, not girls like them who were so destroyed by the idea that it could exist and never came for them. that they're here, in her bed with the belief that nothing was different. that they could never dare to dream big or else that disappointment would eat them, destroy what remains of two broken girls that suffered too much. what would it ever do for them?
yet that's the issue, they're liking it too much. they're pretending, but cellinia doesn't dare to look away. her eyes, the adoration that both could never have. that tenderness they never found, the way it wrenches at their poor hearts and crushes them further. it has to be a joke. that they would fall apart in bed, after telling themselves at most it's nothing. one time, but it was difficult to not crave it more in the way this felt too good.
which is frightening. so very scary, so very terrifying that they could feel something beyond what was that emptiness within them. a void that would never be filled in their lifetime as cellinia often told herself, she'd never fill that heart of hers again after what happened.
(i need you more than i want to, need you more than i want to.... show me you're shameless. write it on my neck, why don't you?)
her lips are against mai's, the song carries on. deeper, deeper. her tongue licks into mai's without a second thought from each kiss she takes. each kiss that's given, no less. cellinia melts for her beautifully. how much does she truly need this, how much would she desire anything? her heart, it's pounding. she ignores the feeling and tells herself it's nothing again. that this can't be anything further than their own desires to keep going. want and need are two different things, different but part of the same coin. that coin called vulnerability, that coin she ignores often. she's had one lover before and the woman in question had hurt more than did any good. tearing her body apart in obsessive drive, calling that love while whispering sweetly and calling the wolf those pretty names she uses for mai now instead. as if to tell herself that she's fine.
a soft sigh comes out into each kiss from cellinia, the deeper they get, the further it goes. the brief parting for each making her want more. more of those lips. more of that kiss which she might not stop dreaming of after this night together. she couldn't think about being without it already. had mai truly tore her apart at the behest of her invisible scars, cellinia might have even understood too well that side of the extremes they both were too used to. that they're ignoring instead for softness, for sweetness in every kiss. the tenderness as that greed breaches them. more. her breathing starts to grow unsteady, unsteady and sharper. her goddesses lips more than enough to get her going as a start from how addicted she is, hopelessly addicted, to her kiss.
(there's a tension in between us. i wanna just give in....)
while mai knew both her parents, the sadder fact is cellinia never knew her mother. not for long. her mother was taken from her young. what little love she received had been from her grandfather's own care, her father stopped caring after his own father decided his granddaughter was worth his efforts more. he was jealous of a girl that had been chosen to shoulder what he deemed his responsibility. a woman in a man's world, a men's exclusive club with greater expectations on her. insults, ignorance, and those unwilling to speak to a woman about "business" without cellinia proving herself. too many of them were hell-bent on owning her. what little love she received was never enough. not enough from not having what one would wish for from a parent, truly the moment they passed she was alone. without that and without ever knowing. like now, she tells herself again. this is not love.
as she told herself, love at first sight doesn't exist. that's a fairytale delight. that isn't something a pair of girls like them should ever have while she hums into the kiss for her goddess at her hand trailing along her skin. this isn't love. but it is, they were only too far gone to realize so soon they found that part of their souls they were without. this is love, love that she wants to surrender to in this tension without knowing the emotion she feels. what they're both feeling.
and that's frightening, whenever it may start to set in.)
....I'll always keep my eyes on you.
(she says it so readily, because she means it. she'd never look away from her. not now especially as her eyes follow her lover, a sharp exhale when she breaks the kiss to run those pretty lips along her ribs. the nips of teeth is lovely, her skin damp and that canvas her beautiful goddess could dare dream of.
a body that belongs to her, a woman that might never dare to let go of her.)
[For two girls who have given up yearning for a splendid escape, they are certainly eager to delve into whatever manner of freedom taunts them through this act. The illusion of love will do that, won't it? Whether acknowledged by name or rejected outright, the tide remains ever-approaching, creeping over these two whose eyes are unfocused on anything but one another. The only ending meant for them is far from the ones in those tidy little fairy tales-- stories that Mai had long since stopped believing in-- and instead, they can delight in falling into something decidedly more tragic, more rich in the passions that would only serve to poison them more fatally.
Ah, that declaration of Cellinia's causes an unfamiliar warmth to bloom within Mai's chest. It spreads, stretches outward, like millions of little tendrils wrapping around her from the inside, commanding her to keep touching, keep kissing, keep eliciting those wonderfully shaky breaths from Cellinia's lips. The desperation is there, so hopelessly evident that Mai almost laughs-- but she would be betraying herself if she does, for she wears her own brand of desperation in the dark excitement in her eyes.]
Good girl-- that's the right answer.
[After all, she did tell Cellinia that her favorite girls were those who anticipated her needs-- and what Mai needs now, the only thing she'll demand of her lover, is her dutiful eyes upon her. That's right-- watch her, truly behold this tenderness that others might scoff at had it been suggested to them. No one else needed to believe that such a softness could exist in this thorn-cloaked girl. They could run at the first prick against their thin skin-- let them. She would give this gift to Cellinia, only to her, in exchange for those eyes...
Though, Mai will admit that she's torn-- old habits draw her towards a swifter path, one where she hurries and hastens her way down Cellinia's lovely form, like a mindless animal devouring its meal by the mouthful. Those instincts want to drive her towards claiming what she's after and dancing off with her little victory immediately after. She's as unmotivated as they come, after all, loathing a drawn out battle, knowing that every second spared is but another opportunity for someone else to take what's hers. But who is here to snatch away her prize? Who does she have to look over her shoulder for, out of a reflexive fear of loss? Before, she would have taken her scraps with anxious hands, feasting like some uncivilized animal waiting for the first signal to scurry off when danger reared its head.
But here, she can be something a bit different, can't she? Because she keeps a beautiful beast underneath her, now, bound by Mai's own hands. Yes-- here, the prize is already hers, and all that is asked of her is to savor the taste of triumph without interruption.
So, she'll take her time, pushing her own patience past its limits. Mai can feel herself nearly trembling because of this alien effort. She won't delude herself and outright declare that she's trying to be a considerate lover-- but there's little in the way of other suitable explanations for what compels her to move slowly, deliberately as she kisses and suckles along her ribcage. Her tongue laps at the remaining droplets from their ill-fated shower, seeking out the faint taste of Cellinia's flesh beneath the thin flavor of the water. She satisfies herself plenty, there, before she raises her head up just enough to busy her lips at the swell of Cellinia's breast, this time. Just as slowly, she leaves proof of her efforts in the form of pretty love bites, and her breath fans teasingly over the stiffened bud there as she explores the rest of the skin with her tongue.
Her hands feel rather idle, though-- she does so love touching Cellinia, hearing her gasp and whine so prettily when her fingers find those special places. With one arm kept close to her lover's side, bracing some of her own weight, Mai wills her enthusiasm to tame itself enough to allow for her free hand to carefully descend down Cellinia's torso. Her touch is featherlight, a far cry from the hungry way she raked thin lines along her skin earlier. No, this time she proffers a torture of a different sort, from the way her fingertips map out where her lips will soon follow. When she gets to the stretch of scars traversing her abdomen, Mai takes care to run her fingers along the flesh there, twisted and puckered and marred from who knows what kind of struggle.
Oh, Cellinia-- how beautifully dangerous your body is, what stories it hints at in the battle-borne blemishes and exquisite lines of dark ink. How long would it take Mai to pour over them in full, and could she ever hope to understand every single word nestled in the masterpiece that Fate had rendered of this body? Perhaps, better to give up that endeavor-- and elect to leave a story of her own across her flesh. A shame, that the colorful bruises left in the wake of her lips would only be temporary...
But, Mai will root herself within Cellinia's very soul, somehow. That shall be how she ruins her.
Like earlier, her hand creeps deliciously between her thighs, her fingertips dipping in just enough to admire how worked up she has Cellinia at this moment. The expression on her face doesn't hide one bit of the glee she feels at the sensation, and she kisses at her breast once before gently swiping her tongue over her nipple, not yet daring to take it between her lips.]
Don't forget-- you promised you'd behave, this time.
[She teases in a sing-song voice, resuming her sweet torment that she had begun in the shower. This time, Cellinia is entirely at her mercy, unable to stop her or punish her should she decide to conveniently still her touch. As far as Mai is concerned, as she has the power to do is plead with her for more of whatever she likes most-- and of course, it's up to Mai if she wishes to heed those pleas.]
(desperation is something she knows more of than anything, she was desperate to leave behind that life of hers. she also was desperate to not die, not for that time until the tiredness set in fully. until it began to fade away, and out of the ashes came a rebirth most unexpected. cellinia lives, the cost of it was more than what one would have paid. she breathes, her body is at the mercy of her lover. a tender slowness, a slowness that she likened to being sweet torture to her in their ill-fated attempt at showering. this isn't love, she reminds herself. love like fairytales was never something for them, but they're falling into it. this poison would be beautifully tragic in how it rips them apart, in how it would make them be reborn anew in both best and worst ways.
she can see that desperation in mai's own lovely eyes, how they glimmer in the now moonlit bedroom. how cellinia's own shines in the dark a dim amber that stands out in the moon bathing them. just like her namesake. of course it was the answer. she knew it deeply, her lover wants her eyes to never leave her. the devotion and how they stare at her. captivated, wanting, and reverent. how could someone like her be drawn in? whatever could be wrong with her? that answer is obvious in how they both ignore it stubbornly. that the fairytales have blessed them with their meeting. enough that they'd likely consider it as being pitied and turn their noses at the foolish attempts of telling them that they found love. not without kicking and screaming in their own means, their own ways.
those thorns that cage them both would blossom beautifully, a garden comprised of roses that nobody would ever touch again. the roots of them growing deep in their bodies and sprouting out the more they struggle. their garden would bloom, but never once would they have known this to be the cause. nor would cellinia think about it while her eyes refuse to leave her dear goddess and little red riding hood. she wants to watch that beautiful face, she wants to memorize every detail of it like a special prize for herself that she'd never lose. she loves it, the way her eyes sparkle at knowing that she has her body as belonging solely to her. that nobody else has touched her the way mai does. not with this tenderness she forces upon herself.
this tenderness that her wolf appreciates more than the way her body was torn apart so very often ages ago. cellinia is enthralled by it, entranced and caught up in how her shaky breaths start to grow more prominent. the consideration is another thing that she appreciates, cellinia knows it must be difficult more for someone as greedy as mai. knowing that she has this canvas, this everything she can touch and more at the palm of her hands. she's every bit earned her enjoyment of partaking in her wolf's body. as the sole person who could ever have her this way, she deserves that, even if they both would not admit this about themselves.
her sighs are soft, the sounds she makes for her and her alone. notes of lovely music while her tongue licks along the droplets of water from their attempt at showering gone awry. the way it sharpens into a whine at how her breath teases a stiffened nipple, pebbled and tempting for her lover to suckle on it at any given time. she has to behave, is another reminder to herself. no matter the way she wants those lips more in her own impatience. she wants so much more, more than she ever knew she could want of someone in how she marvels at mai's expressions. the tender care despite their mutual impatience and want after cellinia was mercilessly teased earlier.
but it doesn't stop her, not from how she starts to moan for her. that soft song of her voice and whines from wanting to be touched. she misses her hands already, how they feel along her skin. their softness another detail she's memorized. how much would she know by heart after tonight? would she know her body alone in it's everything without seeing her? honestly, yes. she would want to memorize her body to that extent and without even giving up on the notion. because she likes to touch her goddess equally.)
Mai....
(ah, there's her name again. said that pretty way her lover likes so much, the rumble of it down her throat. sensitive, so sensitive. how she moans it for her at her tongue going along her nipple and her teasing. is this her worship again? saying her name until it's all that she knows?
no, it's only part of it from that touch to sensitive scars and tracing over them to commit those to memory. her legs parted enough for her lover's hand, she's soaked. dripping wet, and it's hardly going down by how part of it is along her inner thighs. that shower did little to wash it down after they left, it likely wouldn't have stopped her from being that wet by the time mai was done with her in there. that seems to be a given from how turned on she was getting. from how turned on she is right now, too. she's a mystery in her scars, the ink covering her body. the body of this masterpiece that her lover adores.
who knows if she may ever talk about those mysteries, she does know that she would allow mai to mark whatever stories she desires across her skin both ink covered and marred in scars. some old, some new, and some even life-threatening. nasty in their gnarled shapes and sizes. tales of a life spent in blood, death, and the expectation that she was not to ever show mercy.
a life she had unsurprisingly grown tired of.)
I'll....still behave.
(because she didn't want her to stop, she wants her touch so badly it makes her more of a ravenous mess in that way. lovely goddess, won't you touch her until you both find yourselves insatiable? far too greedy for your own good, even? or perhaps touch her while she shows your body after all the things she'd do for you and more than those other lovers had done.)
[Outside, the skies grow darker by the moment, with the last few rays of the retreating sun bidding the city farewell. Whatever warmth that once befell the room during that lovely golden hour has disappeared, replaced by the cooler hues of the evening. For now, the light of the moon peers through the window, spilling over the two girls whose little afternoon adventure has long-since bled into an affair that could endure for the remainder of the night. For the briefest of moments, Mai wonders if she's missed back on campus, the few friends she has asking about her and wondering about her absence at dinnertime. But she can have her moods, something they all know well enough-- maybe she just disappeared to her quarters for the day, fed up over one trivial thing or another. Normally, she'd pretend that she doesn't pay too much mind about whatever reputation she has amongst her peers. Today, tonight, if she's truly as lucky as she feels, then this reputation might serve her better than she anticipates.
Her friends needn't worry too terribly about Mai. By the time they see her again, she'll have eaten quite well, enjoying her fill of a meal comprised of one very delicious wolf. Her impatience is not such that it would have her racing to devour the main course, but Mai can't resist becoming more and more excited with the soft sighs that tumble from Cellinia's lips in response to the way Mai trails her tongue along her skin. How pretty, the way she even whines for more of her lips upon the tender flesh of her breasts. It's just what Mai desires, witnessing the true face of this animal beneath her, one who grows more and more frustrated at this drawn-out waiting game. It's all right, darling wolf, Mai is just as frustrated with her own set pace-- but won't that make it all the more perfect when they both finally get what they want out of this agonizing prelude?
She has Cellinia, really has her, when she hears her name moaned out in that low and rumbling voice. Now that alone is enough to drive into Mai's already frail patience like a goddamn hammer. A sharp breath of her own fills her lungs, and an intoxicating sensation of need rolls down her spine and terminates in a fiery passion between her hips. God, torturing Cellinia is the same as torturing herself, isn't it? When her needy wolf murmurs a promise to behave, Mai nearly snorts-- but this reaction is mostly aimed towards herself, for her own inclination to behave is swiftly weakening.]
Oh, I'm sure.
[ 'What other choice do you have?', her purred reply insinuates. Yet she can tell that Cellinia is aware enough to conclude that being on her best behavior will net her a reward she ought to be rather pleased with. Of course, she can struggle, she can plead and growl and whine as much as she needs to while Mai works her way towards where they both want her to go. As long as she's behaving, Mai will see fit to misbehave to her heart's content. Though, she'll be good to her in this moment, relieving her of one of her aches when she finally wraps her lips around her nipple and sucks at it softly, rolling her tongue around the bud whenever her lips part to skim across the pebbled flesh around it. She alternates between this suckling and nibbling further marks about her breast, only moving over to do the same to its pair once she's happy with her handiwork.
All the while, her fingers are eagerly coating themselves in Cellinia's dripping need between her thighs. A drawn-out hum of approval vibrates against her skin as Mai's fingers get a thorough feel of how much her lover is already melting for her. True, she already had quite the head-start during their time in the shower, but she had no intention of bringing her lover to climax again in that space. Her intention was to torment Cellinia a little before continuing on with a proper shower-- and she should have known better than to think she was actually going to be successful when her handsome lover was at her fingertips like that. There's always later, when she can try again after she's made a mess of Cellinia, and after she's been made a mess of, in return. And how wonderfully messy Cellinia already is, slick and sticky from Mai's touch and her kisses. An urge is there, one that makes her want to slide her fingers deep inside that heat, feeling her walls cling and flutter around her again. Cellinia had accepted her so beautifully before, and wouldn't she want to feel Mai within her again? Yet, Mai narrows her eyes at her own restraint slipping, and shelves that plan for later, deciding to glide her fingers up and down along her lover's sex. They tease at her inner lips before slowly dragging up and rolling over her clit, sliding over the sensitive flesh with ease thanks to how wet she is. She repeats this motion a few times before two fingertips settle back upon that lovely nub, rubbing it in a gentle rhythm, the pressure alternating between firm and featherlight.
As Mai plays with Cellinia, she shifts her body again to move her arm beneath her lover's back. Leaving the rapid pounding of Cellinia's heartbeat behind, she begins to kiss back up the column of her neck, biting down wherever there's a blank space for another mark. Her tongue dances over her pulse point before lapping up to her jaw, and Mai pauses there with a shaky sigh.]
Kiss me, Cellinia. I'll even let you take as many as you want to.
[Mai lifts herself just enough to bring her face closer to Cellinia's, eyeing her with enough yearning to drown them both. Her fingers don't cease, not like they had before when she was hellbent on trying the wolf's patience. No, this time, she wants to see every little expression she makes as the space between their lips close. You'll watch her, precious little wolf, just as she demands-- and she'll watch you, too, with equal delight.]
Because you won't be able to have them for a while.
[Her mouth is positively aching to busy itself elsewhere, and Cellinia knows exactly where that place will be. But right now, while Mai can still command a sliver of self-control, she wants to drink in those euphoric sighs and moans from their source as her fingers coax forth even more of those delicious juices for her tongue to savor when it's time. They can kiss-- Mai wants to kiss-- while she helps draw Cellinia closer and closer to one of the many breaking points she has in store for her.
For all of her greediness, Mai feels almost smug at how generous she's planning on being. Cellinia might even thank her for ruining her so gorgeously, though Mai won't count on receiving that particular gratitude in words. Goodness, her patience is splintering even more at the thought of it... ]
(truly, cellinia's own friends would likely wonder where she is. sometimes they did want to go out with her. their own choice to drag her out from a more concerned view of their friend and coworker. they didn't wish to see this wolf stay huddled up in a corner like her life depends on it in her day by day; her loner tendencies were concerning for them by a greater extent. but never mind that. cellinia could only think less of them, they weren't what's on her mind. what's on her mind is in front of her and taking her time to enjoy her body. the thought of them mattered less, her sighs are something she doesn't restrain. her shaky breaths, how she must be losing her poor mind from an ache of her own. that touch of hers being the main part of her wants. they should have both realized that she could hardly deny it, she has a craving for the soft skin of mai and the way her hands roam along her skin.
it's an undeniable craving. how her hands tense from an urge to hold on to her lover, but they're trapped. maybe that's another form of torture between them. she misses her hands on her lover's body and how she felt to the touch. those pretty lips of her roaming along in areas that would get her more cries from this girl who tempted a beautiful and depressing beast. depressing in the way that nobody could come close to her and those thorns burrowed deep inside of her and her walls. those walls which embraced mai's own thorns all the same for what would be their ruin, their haunting of one another from only having a simple name and nothing more.
her heart is racing, those lovely sounds mai so very much craves are loose and free on those lips. she's at her mercy, losing her mind and more from her desires. she knows too well, she wouldn't have been able to misbehave. not from how her hands are tied, not even from how mai pushes her further and further. her little red riding hood, her goddess who makes her crave everything in greed about her of her own. it's only another act of worship, to say the name of her lover so prettily. beautifully for her, the sound of her voice another note in its neediness. under the moonlit night they only need one another.
nothing could come in comparison to that, in the cries of her wolf for this girl and how she whines out. part of her felt relief when mai decides to lavish her breast in more attention, taking finally one of her nipples in her mouth. but they both know, it isn't enough. it's not enough in how she cries those soft sounds that nobody else would hear, or even the way that this handsome wolf digs her nails into her palms from mai's fingers making their way along to tease her further. her breasts now are covered in those lovely marks her goddess seeks to give her, another step closer to her body becoming like a leopard's as she desired more than a wolf's own. right now, her body is an instrument for her lover. for mai's own touch, in soft moans and whines, whimpers, that the wolf makes for her. there is no fight for it, for dominance or anything as she surrenders to her.
she's aching, dripping down along mai's fingers as they tease. running along her lips with her almost begging for them to be back inside of her. another time. that can be another time, is something she knows. how she must feel like a mess might not be lost on either of them, they're already this far along, aren't they? it didn't matter. they both could be those broken messes they are underneath the surface while giving up to pleasure that they never had. the love that they'd both never admit came at first sight for many others, too. but enough about that lover, her eyes are all on mai. she looks so good doesn't she? with pleasure more than what once was a haunted expression in her youth and that emptiness she often maintained on her handsome face. because mai is the one she gives this to, their restraint both slipping away in how cellinia wishes she could touch her.
how she wishes she'd go further in the way she feels her heart hammering, her lover's arm rests beneath her while she feels that mouth of hers marking her neck further. the sensation of kiss and tongue and teeth, her breathing is shakier than earlier. sharper, unsteady, and begging so very much for more in how she's murmuring her lover's name. touch me, she begs with each sweet sound of it. she wants more of it. she needs so much more of it in how sensitive she is from earlier, in how her hips quiver from wanting to roll into those fingers but resists. she knows, her goddess might not take kindly to her stepping out of line further so soon.
her voice, when mai speaks, drags her out of this daze. those lovely expressions she was making must be worth that effort alone. that cellinia hears it. kiss her. take as many as she wants and desires, bathe her in them until mai wants to sate her own hunger on cellinia's body. this body which her little red riding hood calls perfect, the canvas which she wants to decorate further in a different story than what was given to it in tales of death and struggles which would make most run.)
I'd never stop if I did, your lips are something I can never get enough of....I'll bathe them in my own greediness, Mai, I never want to be full when it comes to your kiss.
(goodness, she didn't even slip into her other language for that. how heated her voice sounds, the demands of hunger and desire. she kisses mai, she closes that space between them in urgency. chasing her lover's lips with more of a depth than earlier. those sounds she wants to hear is fed to her, those sighs and gasps mai desired to drink from with pleasure and a deep desire written into her expression from each twitch of it. touch her more, lover, those lips outright beg for it. cry for it into each kiss and brief parting. each lick of her tongue into mai's mouth and tongue.
her taste being another part she grew addicted to hopelessly, next to her touch and kiss so soon. this is what happens when girls like them find their missing halves, the parts of themselves broken to pieces fitting into the souls of another. this is what happens. in heated murmurs of one another's names on their tongues. this is what happens, this will never change in the way their bodies would always demand it.
to find one another again, to haunt one another until they were all that could be thought of. that's what will ruin them further. it already is ruining cellinia as much as it is mai. there's no way around that, that this love will destroy them and make them feel alive again.
that they would never let another take from them what they have never had.)
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Date: 2025-03-20 05:41 pm (UTC)until they both drown in it, in what it blooms and what it costs them from the bottomless depths of desire. it didn't matter who the beast was, who the actual one could be. not the way she offers herself so boldly to a woman who never had freedoms that cellinia obtained by killing her own. they're too good at complimenting one another. sinful and beloved daughter, sinful and beloathed daughter. taking both by the throat as they find themselves brought down. the grip of it threatening to suffocate like the rain cellinia brings with her for this lonesome goddess she finds herself devoteed in such ease. that anguish, that crying out of their poor souls is unending in itself. fractured, torn to pieces, aimless, and numbed to everything when they were ruined once before. the world never takes kindly to girls who want nothing more with some manner of innocent sweetness in their hearts. they're nothing to that cruelty and the way it shapes them.
she waits, her back turned and tempting in the black and red strands of her lengthy hair against it. a canvas for her lover when she's pushed firmly against the wall. her forehead, pressed against it with mai exposing every bit of soft skin she could ever desire in the patches of roughness along it. her canvas is somewhere she has more she can mark. somewhere that she feels tension easing from the brush of her hand against the firm muscles. the lap of her tongue against her nape drawing out sweeter sighs, shaky breaths while cellinia braces herself with a hand to the tiles of this wall she's pressed into.
even like this, the corner of her beautiful amber eyes is on mai. as best as she may, they speak plenty of what she wants. they say it more than words alone could ever at this moment where she's pressed firmly between the wall and feeling the length of mai's body against her. ah, she wants to kiss her again already. isn't she utterly hopeless? that she could want her lips so much yet doesn't beg for them. she wants to feel them against her skin.
she wants them to chase after their own insatiable greed in how the goddess wants this wolf all to herself. the wolf who sighs out the prettiest of songs for her lover, her little red riding hood and goddess in how she stands. legs parted enough as mai speaks. while she leaves tender kisses along the expanse of her back, along every inch of it her goddess could ever desire as her own to paint in a color she'd know. this marking that would stay carved into her body.
ruin me, just like this. she mouths it wordlessly, she needs it and finds that urge to ruin her lover in kind is there. so strong and demanding in its own want to never let mai forget about a lonesome beast that wants to be haunted by her, that wants to be cursed to never forget her face and to chase it. chase it until she finds her again, until she can touch her and have mai again. until mai could have the wolf that wanted nothing more than to ruin her, too.
come on, lover, ruin her. the way you want to, the way you have to as a means of tying this lonely and jaded girl to you forever. into having her never leave you alone. her teeth sinking in your skin, claiming you forever as her own while never letting go of you. ruin her so beautifully that she can only dream of you, mai.
that she would haunt the dreams of a wolf and remain, chasing away everything in it's violence.)
F-fuck.... (she doesn't always speak crassly, not out of her second language. the words hungry and making her shiver. the teeth biting down in a lovely spot that her lover found. that mai picked out in a tender mark of teeth against it, her sweet sighs are shaky. the softness of her moans echoing against the walls. no, she wasn't wrong. cellinia speaks and purrs out the words she wants to say in it and never says what they mean.
that mai was right, her body betrays her in her silence on the matter in how she shudders at the slow stroke of her clit. the delicious torture, the tease of it in how cellinia doesn't struggle in her surrender. does she say it for her? speak out that poetry she hides behind in utter reverence now and tip them over further, further down in their hearts threatening to swallow them and not let go?) Do you....want me to tell you more words, that you want to know the meaning of? (does she want to hear sweet poetry, something that would add more to the mistakes they've made? in their frustratingly and alluring sound, their temptation and honestly.)
Any words....that you want to know, that you want to hear me say.
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Date: 2025-03-21 07:15 am (UTC)And perhaps, maybe one day, this rain might even purify her in all of its sin. Imagine that-- these two anguished souls, utterly condemned by this heartless world, sanctified in this strange union. Who would think that these two could be any more than a pair of fools in the throes of their mistakes, one of many in their disappointing lives? Because there is little more foolish than abandoning their responsibilities, their mundane obligations, to sneak away and play at being lovers. Cellinia should have never taunted Mai with salacious fantasies-- and Mai should have never thought herself so bold as to challenge this wolf without considering the consequences that would sweep her up in devoted promises that seem almost too good to be true.
But what do they know? All they're armed with is one another's name, and the molten desire that melts them down with every irrational second that they continue to spend together. All Mai has is that look in Cellinia's eyes, one that threatens to haunt her already, a look that sees something that Mai doesn't. This foolish wolf wants to belong to her, she thinks that Mai is someone worth belonging to. And she would almost pity Cellinia for this mistake, the gravest of all that she's making today-- but she is rotten enough to revel in it, pretend that it's the real thing, not even realizing that it will be.
Mai doesn't see those pretty lips mouthing that silent plea to ruin her, but she absolutely hears Cellinia cursing desperately as soon as her teeth sink into that tender skin. It makes her giddy to hear her pretty wolf reduced to such vulgarity, especially after she has made her desires known so beautifully. Oh, but Mai loves it, the way she can make the pendulum swing between these delicious extremes. A beast is still a beast, after all, no matter how enchanting their declarations.
She smiles in delight against the mark she leaves at Cellinia's neck, already on the warpath to ruining her with the hunger of her mouth and the parallel eagerness of her fingers.]
How cute... [ another bite, above Cellinia's shoulder blade this time ] That you still want to give me lessons while I'm trying to teach you a thing or two.
[A very messed-up lesson of Mai's own, in how one should never beg for some pitiful nobody to devastate them as thoroughly as she intends to. It already seems like Cellinia is learning quite well, already, an avid student whether she's aware of it or not. From her sighs and soft moans reverberating so wonderfully, Mai has all the confirmation she needs that Cellinia is more than happy to surrender to the ruin promised with each glide of her fingers, each kiss along her back.]
You can say whatever you want in that pretty tongue of yours. I know it gets you off, losing yourself little by little while you praise me.
[Oh, how she adores the way Cellinia is shuddering in her hold while she continues to work her fingers steadily between her legs. Mai tightens the arm she has at her waist, pressing her body even closer to the wall while she nibbles lazily at the back of her neck and shoulders.]
How about... Mmm, how about telling me how good I'm making you feel, right now? Tell me how happy you are to fall apart for me again.
[Go on, Cellinia, tell your capricious little goddess these things in that foreign tongue of yours. The wolf need not even translate it-- or rather, Mai doesn't think she has it in her to do so, if the girl's cunning fingers have anything to do with it.]
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Date: 2025-03-21 05:49 pm (UTC)she can't help it, not the way she moans for her. not the way that tightening coil in her belly thrums from how close she's starting to get from slow torture alone. ruin her, lover. make her fall for you so hard in the future she'd give you the world. that she'd whisper feelings she never told another soul. get them from her pretty lips as she's pinned to the wall more. the wolf's head pressed to half look at mai now. she's trying to not dig her nails into the tile. cellinia even attempts to keep herself steady, but it's obvious she would let go soon. sooner rather than later. under the hot water that streams down on them.
she has a name, a name that's beautiful in it's meaning. the meaning of it being heaven, the moon. doesn't it suit her? this pretty wolf that her lover touches so much. she's receptive to that touch, to mai's hands and teeth along her body. that they're both so torn apart by the world they dare to dream about this being the real thing. that someone like cellinia could dare to taunt her into ruining her. that she was desperate to be ruined and ruin her in how those amber eyes are searing in their burn. a bright burn that doesn't fade, so tantalizing in how they beg for it. beg for her lips and teeth along this body in its scars. this body her lover considers perfect, a work of art for her touch.
they don't even have anything more than a name, their desire, their faces memorized. she curses, she utters them at the sensation of teeth. that bite down into her back as her lover carries on this warpath. this ever-growing demand to satisfy a hunger within for herself. cellinia's sighs become sharper for her. shaky, her moans a better song than the music she would play in the car and at home from a dislike for the silence of both. from that need for something to cover it up, the way it gnaws at her mind.
how lonely her wolf must be, must have been without her in her life. how lonely she must be to demand it; for them to be tied together at their very core whenever she near misses it. how mai calls it cute of her to want to speak like that. that she wants to whisper such sweet words, sweet cravings dripping in poisonous sin and promises. affections that both girls would never grow tired of wanting, demanding.)
Toccami....solo così. Voglio che la tua bocca mi perseguiti, voglio che i tuoi occhi non mi lascino mai. (she has to pause, a shudder again while attempting to get her mind together. she wants to try and tell her goddess what she wants to say. what she said. maybe she is terrible at conveying it, everything to do with it. but the lazy nibbles, how her little goddess asked for it did make cellinia want to try.) T-touch me....just like this. I want your mouth to haunt me, I want your eyes to never leave me.
(the words are hissed out, unrestrained in their desires. the want within them. give it to her, little red riding hood. she didn't care how terrible of an idea this is. this was for both sides as they left behind mundane and boring lives for a moment they were anything but that. she can only offer those heated whispers of words far too beautiful for girls like them who were destroyed by the world, offer that sweetness which many would kill for themselves so freely.
this poison that she feels mixed into the heat of passion that both girls ignored, desiring not the antidote of their afflictions. they only wanted that tender cruelty that would break them apart and take more while cursing them further into being shadows of their former selves. torn apart, beautiful, and jaded.)
Voglio ricordare te e il tuo corpo, le tue grida. Il modo in cui gemi per me, il modo in cui io gemo per te.... (another shaky pause, another moment of her claws scratching to tiles. it's harder to translate now than it is to talk with how frayed her mind is and yet....) I want to remember you and your body, your cries. The way you moan for me, the way I moan for you....
(oh cellinia, one day you might stop digging yourself further down in your sins. or you might never, she only knows she feels it so strongly. something she can't put a finger on, something that makes her want more than they both could have dreamed of.)
no subject
Date: 2025-03-22 04:47 am (UTC)So, Mai should be more tender with Cellinia, then, shouldn't she? To surmise that a lover might be bereft of something so easily given in this moment, wouldn't it be far more kind to be gentle, whisper soothing sweet nothings while ushering in the deep relief that accompanies release? When Cellinia turns her face just a bit, her cheek pressed to the tile and her eyes seeking out Mai's, the girl can imagine she sees the flames of a certain kind of desperation dancing in their depths. The way that Cellinia's groans become more drawn-out, more shaky and breathless against the soothing sound of the falling water, causes a needy ache of Mai's own grow between her hips. The wolf wants her eyes to never leave her, does she? That's fine-- their position will leave no room for Cellinia to hide those wonderful expressions from Mai's ravenous stare.
And that's when Mai comes to a surprising conclusion-- she will be kind to Cellinia, even if it's not in the way that a lover ought to be. She'll be good to her in the way that twisted sinners like them deserve, breaking her down sweetly with the hands of someone who knows exactly how to do it. After all, that's the way to tame a beast-- not with a sadistic superiority that crushes her underfoot, but with a tender cruelty that leaves her so euphoric that she'll seek out sanctuary in the poisoned affection of a new master.]
Aww, thank you for teaching me. You're such a good girl...
[Her praise is sincere, even if her gratitude is practically sopping with sarcasm. She wants to make sure that Cellinia gets both, after all. She's earned the praise from shuddering so perfectly whenever Mai strokes her just right, all while making a visible effort to keep her wits about her. 'Touch me... just like this.' Very well-- Mai is only too happy to keep up her good work. Cellinia is just so deliciously sensitive for her, after all. She really wouldn't mind playing with her all night... The prettiest of toys for a girl like Mai, who would explore every inch of her in an effort to really see what she's made of. Call it a force of habit thanks to her training, with her learning the composition of something thoroughly enough to recreate it. Thankfully, she's not restricted by her dismal cursed energy here-- there's no limit to the ecstasy she wants to craft for Cellinia before their time is up.]
Maybe too good, though, since you're still talking...
[Satisfied with the tiny marks her nibbles have left (and in a place that Cellinia would need a mirror to properly appreciate), Mai raises her head to kiss her cheek, her eyes still holding her lover's gaze firmly as she pulls away. Ah, how gorgeous, the searing look within her wolf's eyes, that plea for more, more until she finally reaches that peak. Hm... ]
But, tell me, Cellinia, because I really have to know--
[And right when she knows she has her, Mai stills her movements. It's there, that faint throbbing against her touch as she still cradles Cellinia's clit in her fingers. A familiar self-satisfied smile finds itself on Mai's lips again before she continues her light taunting.]
Just how are you gonna make me cry out for you after I've ruined you completely? You think I'll really let you have that chance?
[She rests her chin atop Cellinia's shoulder, stroking her stomach with the hand around her waist while her other hand remains painfully motionless. Goodness, her nerves are really frayed, aren't they? Cellinia is steadily losing her mind, like this, and Mai can't get enough of neither the sight nor the feeling of the absolute sin she's concocting for the both of them.]
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Date: 2025-03-22 04:46 pm (UTC)which comes as no surprise, her claws scratch the tiles at the light taunts mixed with gratitude. scratches against the surface of them, any deeper, and they'd near break the damn things in an afterthought on what could come from that kind of reaction. that's that issue of going for something teetering often between civilized and uncivilized. all it takes is something to press into buried down instincts, buried down everything. cellinia so happens to have worse than some might have ever expected. not just her instincts, but her everything. the violence that she abandoned, the need for that rush of adrenaline she could get from doing something terrible. something as terrible as her speeding, her fights, the nights she went out to clubs at the behest of friends. each too willing to drag her out, some even concerned about the sight of her after she drinks.
but she's not drunk, she's not even sure what she is. that lonely void is large and never-ending. this storm within her, threatening at the eye of it in every means that it had. cellinia's eyes seem to keep that fire, that searing desperation. that something else within them from the stirring of more bestial instincts as mai's lips press against her cheek. she asked for this, she wanted this. she wanted to be ruined thoroughly, she wants to equally ruin in kind by whatever means she could. in that pretty mouth, in those claws of hers that she refrains from using more than her teeth. a funny thought, something like her can force herself into not raking lines into pale skin that could have stung something fierce and beautifully as extras to the teeth she left.
that praise isn't lost on her, that way she said it even with the way it drips sarcasm and how satisfied this girl must be. at the idea that she could have her like this, the lonesome beast who growls when mai's hand stops. when that taunt leaves her lips, the sight of her pleased with herself while cellinia stills herself. that throbbing ache is painful, she's been losing her mind the more this goes on. slow torture. a lot of slow torture and that feeling of her lover's hand running along her toned stomach. she almost swore she caught a familiar scent, a scent of need of her lover's own.
that tortured look, it becomes something else. tortured, ravenous, and maybe too hungry for anyone sane. anyone would know, they shouldn't try to reason with a wolf. they shouldn't even try to touch a wolf this way without some manner of expectations that it'd get bad for them when mixed with taunts. this could even be another way of ruin, another to set her on the path. it doesn't take her much, it doesn't to get her to react and shift their positions. with mai against the glass instead of the tiles. oh, that look in her eyes must be positively delicious. that snarl, that way she isn't talking.
something teetering feral, something less than gentle in how she responded. isn't it beautiful? this is a beast. this is what they're often warned about, and all of this wolf is for this goddess and her tender cruelty. that poisonous desire she offers the beast, her wolf. her beautiful wolf that she wants to decorate the body of. make a claim of her own about, the toned muscle and how she presses them firmly to the glass beneath the warm water. it didn't feel like it was cleaning them, it only felt as though it's adding more to this now raging fire that's started to thrum in her veins.)
Didn't I say that I want to ruin you too, Mai?
(how it rumbles out of her throat lowly, her lover's name. something violent, something like a purr in those growls. their fathers would surely hate this more. that mai could stir something so "uncivilized" in this golden child. in a snarl of teeth and their bodies. is this what her goddess wanted to see? that wild part of her stirring for her pleasure? this twisted affection a beast could only have when it comes to their lover's and those they want to make theirs?
because she has indeed earned this sight. from that beautiful and searing look of wildness in her amber eyes to everything about it.)
I want to ruin you too.
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Date: 2025-03-22 09:59 pm (UTC)After all, she knows perfectly well that she has a veritable beast at her fingertips. Mai knew the moment Cellinia complained about that oaf confusing a wolf for a cursed spirit, and those sneaky wheels in her head really began to turn once she got that first picture. Honestly, Cellinia, what is all of this but your own consequences for piquing the interest of one very bored and very lonely girl? She very well could have been a professional courier and let Mai's flirtations die off without a response, but look at her, now-- trapped under Mai's hot gaze, tortured by her soft fingers, riled up more and more by her teasing remarks. Here she is, offering this girl the sweetest of phrases, such gallant promises, all while Mai chews them up greedily as fuel for her own merciless endeavors to make her noble little wolf crumble completely for her.
Oh--! But when she feels herself pushed away from her very comfortable place behind Cellinia and now pressed firmly against the glass of the shower, Mai can plainly see that her ruinous path is cut short. What was the last straw, she wonders with a smug look on her face. Was she doing too good of a job at delivering her the devastation she was asking for? She doesn't regret it, not a single bit, that she might have taken it a step too far with ceasing her touch right as Cellinia was so close to coming undone for her. Too bad-- for Cellinia. Mai's fingers miss her already... ]
Mm. I might remember you saying that.
[Goodness, the way she snarls her name really does something to Mai, doesn't it? It makes her feel like she's on fire, the heat blazing in the pit of her stomach raring to lick its way up until it engulfs her very heart. She likes it quite a bit, even more than those pretty foreign pet names that she's still mostly in the dark about. But nothing sounds better than hearing her own name uttered in a way that promises something at once dangerous and delightful. And she won't ask her to say it again, not yet-- perhaps once they're in bed and Mai has the upper hand again-- but it's already burned itself into her mind. Before today, her name might as well have been synonymous with disgrace, disappointment, and annoyance. When had anyone ever said her name like this? Ah, well, she has no desire to find out if anyone else could ever utter it in the same way.]
But I wasn't finished with you, yet. You're really just gonna barge in and take over?
[And it is a sight that so thoroughly delights Mai, witnessing an untamed fire of Cellinia's own, blazing in the heat of her stare. Maybe it isn't so terrible, losing her chance to keep edging and torturing her darling wolf. But, Mai's hands are so empty now, and lonely for more of Cellinia's body after having the opportunity yanked away so rudely. They find their place at her hips, gripping into the flesh with a marked harshness that will undoubtedly leave deep red crescents from her nails.
The two of them look so splendid beneath the stream from the shower, with water collecting heavily at their hair and spilling down their faces in glimmering rivulets. No, it certainly isn't doing much to clean them when they're this committed to messing one another up even more. Nor does it even bother to quench the passionate fire already in the throes of suffocating them entirely. Maybe this entire shower adventure was a terrible idea... But the way Cellinia's wet body feels against Mai's does enough to outright reject that train of thought.]
I liked you better when you had manners, Cellinia. Guess I'll just have to be a little meaner to you whenever you're done trying to ruin me, huh?
[Did Cellinia think she could frighten Mai into submission like this? She should have known from the beginning that any girl who willingly follows a wolf into its lair is a terror all her own.]
no subject
Date: 2025-03-22 10:41 pm (UTC)she could have been professional, but everything was tempting. the way she twisted into her and pressed her buttons. how mai even promised things herself. that had no denial in the way she ignored professionalism. cellinia could only blame herself more for this. the way they're both in some ways at fault for the mistakes they're making together; the lines raked into her hips feels too good. when was the last time someone got a bit rougher with her? someone that wasn't obsessed with her and wanting to kill her at the same time as being in love with her for a morbid lover's suicide. both dying by one anothers hand.
she growls again, ah, mai might find it hotter of her. she might even want more of it. how she growls, how she responds to the nails digging into her hips like it's among pleasures she rarely gets. she misses her fingers too, how they felt torturing her so thoroughly. her manners coming up causes the wolf to snarl again. teeth shown to her lover with her own hands not as freed in how they press to the glass beside mai. they can wind up in her bed if they wanted to, but both sides are far too stubborn and lit on fire in other means to think about it.
or to care much about the idea of soggy sheets, the two of them wet and tangled, while mai takes that opportunity to do whatever else she's thinking about doing to her. she really should have held back more, but cellinia finds that even difficult when it comes to her lover already.)
I do have manners, Mai, but even I can get impatient. Or are you going to tie my hands together after while you torture me so sweetly more?
(there it is again, the way her name rumbles out of her mouth. like something fierce. something feral, she likes this about her. the way she's a terror and pushes her further. she wouldn't be doing this if she disliked it. it's obvious. she's got the full attention of a wolf and how she's hungry, how that tongue of hers licks her chops as warm water curtains them and soaks them. this is only fueling that need for sins of their own. she wants to be haunted, she wants to be ruined. cellinia even wants to drag her down with her. her darling wolf is so easy to torture, so easy to press into her own desire for whatever path they're after. they're a mess. internally and outwardly. a mess in how they shouldn't be doing this.
yet here they are with the wolf, looking almost as if mai could tip her over however she pleases. coming undone all for her, like the wild animal she is or beneath her as her lover takes control from her thoroughly.)
That sweet cruelty of yours, I can't get enough of it while you keep pushing it further and further. Don't you hold back on me, I won't on you too, Mai.
(if she demands more, cellinia would give it. if she wants to see her let loose, wildly and free then she will. her lips soon find themselves pressed to mai's. there's a roughness to the kiss, not too rough and not too gentle. a balance to that harshness. she doesn't want to not respond in kind to that cruelty, by giving her something exciting to go with it. she did provoke her and that smug face....ah, she loves that too much, too.)
That face of yours, like you think you won....come on, give me more of it. I want to see it when you take more of me as being yours.
(somewhere her father is turning in his grave more, and maybe her grandfather is. how the mighty have fallen, truly. the pride and joy of one family must have lost her mind to go that far. although, maybe less her grandfather turning over the idea. that man has always been accepting of her and her choices.)
no subject
Date: 2025-03-23 11:40 pm (UTC)[There she goes again, pushing Cellinia's buttons with a false pivot into affection. The hands at her hips digging even more tightly betray whatever sweetness dances upon her words and lurks within her smile. Still, Mai isn't lying-- she's the type to get her kicks far too often from dragging another to the point of frustration. A shame that it's a wickedness that was never properly disciplined out of her, though maybe the bigger shame is that whatever survival instinct that should warn her against taunting wild beasts is overridden by this wicked streak. Cellinia can bare her teeth in those attractive growls that Mai draws from her in that impatience, she can even cage Mai in against the glass, her eyes flashing wildly while her tongue licks her lips with a palpable danger. The fear is there, after all, though far from the proper kind that would have Mai running away as fast as her human body can take her. Rather, it's a messed up kind of adrenaline rush that keeps her wanting to play the delectable prey offering herself up to the beast's mouth only to snatch herself back and start the chase all over again.
Cellinia's appealing offer to stop her from using her hands causes Mai to giggle mirthfully. It's appealing, isn't it? The manner in which the wolf gives herself up to be restrained, all the while Mai can still use her hands however she pleases. Like now, as she slowly, slowly rakes her fingers up from Cellinia's hips, up her sides, savoring how her nails scrape against the wet flesh at her mercy. Silly little wolf-- don't you see that Mai is the one who needs her hands tied? Or maybe she understands it all too well, and is surrendering even deeper to those sweet cruelties that she's oh so addicted to... ]
Careful, now-- asking me to tie you up. What if I forget to let you go? Poor thing, you might even starve to death unless I remember to come back for you.
[And then Mai thinks on it-- and her train of thought is all too obvious on her face. She wears a look that all but says that maybe she should do it, tie Cellinia up and really, really ruin her. Could she do it? Could she bring this proud, dangerous wolf to a place she can't return from? Mai was almost fooled into thinking that they had reached that point several times up until this moment-- but now, staring back into the lustful eyes of the woman before her, she catches a sliver of light behind a door she wasn't aware of before. And now, there's a budding fear she is almost hesitant to entertain. What then, should her wolf break free? Perhaps she would hunt Mai down, blind to everything but the revenge of pleasure she would enact in return upon this foolish human. It would be a promise fulfilled, one that would drag them both to an inescapable ruin. How delightful.
Mai isn't caught off guard entirely by Cellinia's insistence on a kiss, and from the moment their lips meet, she can feel the aching impatience that compels her wolf to seek her kiss out once again. It tastes different from their earlier passions, insatiable in a more ruinous way, tempered by a yearning that doesn't draw its strength from a lover's kindness. It tastes like Cellinia is nearing her breaking point, and when Mai realizes this, she laughs into their kiss, pulling back to let her amusement really spill free.]
'Think' I've won? You're funny-- I know I've won. Just look at you, trying so hard to be tough with me, when you just can't help but beg for me to domesticate you in the same breath.
[She sneers with more than a touch of derision, freeing one hand to grasp at Cellinia's hair and pull her back, keeping her from satiating her need for another kiss. She can tell that her wolf wants more so badly. What better way to discipline her than deprive her of such a treat?]
You know-- I don't have to do anything more than this, do I? Because it looks like you're already mine, and all I had to do was touch and kiss you a little. Are all wolves as easy as you are, Cellinia? Or did I just luck out with the most desperate pup of the litter?
[And she laughs again, almost drunk with the power she thinks she has over Cellinia right now. The hand at her head brings her closer, closer, almost close enough for another kiss-- but instead Mai darts her tongue out to run against Cellinia's lips in a merciless taunt.]
Oh, I think I did...
no subject
Date: 2025-03-24 02:41 am (UTC)(how blunt of her, but she isn't wrong. nobody has said this to her. there are no mentions of deaths at her hands, though it's obvious by looking at her now, isn't it? she's got that look to her. that air to her that says this wolf has taken lives, plenty of lives. her tone shows plenty on what she thinks of those foolish enough to bite off more than they could chew and then turning tail to run, the bite to it. the growl blanketing those words. how many have tried to keep up with her, how many have failed? are they even alive? that's the answers that nobody knows. answers that cellinia would never give out to anyone. only one person has done more than her fair share to this wolf, she isn't here. she would have been laughing loudly at their back and forth like it were entertainment to her. because that twisted silver wolf and her blackened heart knows this one too well; she knows her to the point she'd even mention everything all casual.
like a game to her. twisting, untwisting, unraveling and reveling in it. she'd tell stories that would make girls like mai half delight or half fear the depth of misery in all of them. she'd find it amusing. watching the way they twist, their similarities like something special while taunting that mai could never understand cellinia the way she does. but that woman has yet to show again her face. the twisted smile and her blackened desires of taking what she deemed rightfully as hers. she would never tell mai about her, not about their history. how it threatens to take her by the throat and drag her down.
another snarl, the bearing of those teeth. the moment her head is pulled back away by her hair from their kiss, the growling is louder. a rather frightening purr. something that threatens to ruin them both the more she's pressed into. the wolf is such an unusual girl, isn't she? her wolf who has those little thoughts and desires, her wolf who wants so badly to mark her proper as her mate. this fast, this soon. what a mess she is with those thoughts and her own desires. to want these sweet cruelties and more done to her. this twisted affection they're both sharing and indulging in together. what a beast, what a shame of a parentage that had done so much for cellinia. she should be the one being the responsible adult, and here she is, with her little red riding hood and goddess not doing any of that.
ignoring responsibility, ignoring all reason to bare those teeth. like she's so badly wanting to latch down somewhere more noticeable and mark this woman more than she knew. what better way to lure it out of her?) You haven't won until I make you mine fully, until I make you my proper mate. (which is true, even as cellinia hisses it out. she hadn't told mai about that and what it means to be her mate. wolves do mostly take one lover and one alone. lappland had been after that from her, but she never could obtain it from cellinia.)
Or is that going to be what you're after? My teeth in you, giving you that pretty mark of teeth deep in your neck and claiming you fully as mine?
(doesn't it sound lovely for their twisted affections? mai would get to be claimed solely by a ravenous beast who would make her family suffer for daring touch her. is that what she could ever dream of? a gallant beast, wild and willing to tear them to pieces for her? the girl bringing this rain down as she touches her, begs so sweetly for her to touch her?
she's not arguing that she can sound desperate, she knows she is. deep down isn't she a mess? they're both seemingly far off from how they wish to be seen. cellinia who tries to be anything but what she once was, mai who avoids others seeing the way she gets treated. which is why cellinia meets that sneer, that sneer with another growl. the echoes of it loud along the walls when mixed in with that expression that lit up at the idea of genuinely tying her down.)
If you want that, I wouldn't let go of you. Not even for a second, the minute I do bite you that way while I touch you....nobody would stop me from having you.
(not even the zen'in, who would surely be displeased that mai had been taken by a wild animal. a mutt. though she's far better than those fucked up excuses of misery and abuse in people. too willing to drag down others.
too willing to chain them forever to one spot while laughing.)
no subject
Date: 2025-03-24 11:06 am (UTC)But, so what if her wolf has enjoyed a bit of blood on those beautifully dangerous teeth of hers? That simply means that whoever dared to challenge Cellinia ended up falling short of what was necessary to fell a beast. They deserve those insults, truly. Though Mai's lover sports a map of scars along her body, what else are they but proof that it takes far more than blades or bullets to keep her down for long? 'Pathetic weaklings,' indeed. Mai has already uncovered the proper way to bring the big bad wolf to her knees, and it isn't with conventional weapons-- amusingly enough, though, Mai's own revolver got to enjoy a bit of action without sparing a single round on its target. Not even Mai herself needed to use whatever scraps of cursed energy she would normally cobble together to claim a triumph.
If only her family could see her, now, but they'd almost certainly recoil in disgust at the scene playing out right here. She can see it clearly-- her mother would hide her face in shame, while her father would rage like a ruthless inferno at his useless daughter teetering on the edge of letting some mangy dog mark its territory on his property. It's hilarious, all of it, from this horrid fantasy of her parents, to the solemn declaration Cellinia makes to fulfill her promise to make Mai hers, that monstrous father of hers be damned.
And so, Mai allows herself to dissolve into a fit of laughter, sharp and incredulous and not directed at any one particular person.]
Mate? Seriously, Cellinia-- you didn't really lure me back to your place so you could try to make me your little wife, did you?
[Just uttering those words herself makes Mai laugh even more-- a truly dangerous feat in the face of a snarling wolf with the last vestiges of self-control fraying in real-time right in front of her.
Mate, wife-- it all means the same thing to Mai, who lived her entire life watching the women in her clan be reduced to nothing more than bedmates and broodmares for their cruel-hearted husbands. She had banked on it being her own future, one day. Surely there was someone out there willing to overlook her lack of talent-- lack of worth, really-- in hopes of marrying a close relation of the clan's head. All anyone really needed was her pretty face and attractive figure. Perhaps her offspring might redeem her, some day. Goodness knows that the same could hardly be said for her own mother. But Cellinia's offer-- or is it a threat?-- truly throws Mai for a loop, for she can't fathom what a she-wolf would want with a human girl for a 'proper mate'. This confusion only serves as fuel for her amusement, and by now, Mai's grip at Cellinia's hair and body loosen even more in her snickering.]
Oh, don't tell me-- you're trying to make an honest woman out of me, now, after screwing me in the back of your car. How noble of you.
[Because if that was all it takes to become promised to someone, be it a wolf or a human, then Mai would have been tied to far lesser mates who dared to enjoy her body on a whim. But in the end, not even they ever bothered to claim her-- she was too far beneath them, when all was said and done, after all. And yet, here Cellinia was, knowing far less about Mai (and her many drawbacks) than any of them, and pledging more to Mai than anyone in this entire world would deign to do. She ought to say no, she ought to laugh in her face and shove her away for playing around with her feelings like this. And yet... the hand tangled in Cellinia's hair merely moves to pet her sharp, drenched ears, a tiny gesture of affection in the face of her caustic tongue.]
And that's how I 'win,' huh? With a scar on my neck and a promise from you to never let me go?
[While Mai's tone sounds cynical, and that sneer on her face only feeding the incredulity at what Cellinia proposes, her eyes are alight with an unmistakable glee. There it is again-- her gallant wolf, trying to play the white knight who would wish to claim her, faults and all. So, Cellinia wouldn't let a single soul prevent her from keeping Mai once she's laid her claim, would she? She has no idea that no one in this pitiful world even wants Mai, she doesn't know that her competition is practically nil. And she doesn't know that, even though they loathe her ever so thoroughly, Mai's clan would rather tear her apart themselves than let a beast attempt to cherish her so tenderly. Cellinia doesn't know the jaws of the real monster she'd have to pry Mai from, even once she's marked her truly for her own. It fills Mai to the brim with a twisted delight, a morbid curiosity to see how right she is, and an even more messed up desire to call Cellinia out on her bluff.]
Do it, then-- I'd love to see you try, anyway. But I don't wanna deal with whatever disappointment you feel when you figure out that this is just a losing deal for you.
[This wolf must have more than a few screws loose, if she's chomping at the bit to lay claim to the Zen'in family's trash. The cruel, embittered part of Mai wants to see Cellinia as merely a starved street mutt digging wherever it can for scraps. But there's another part of her, a part that she often wishes she could smother to death but somehow still resurfaces despite her best efforts-- a part of her that imagines her lover as a dutiful hound with a nose for real treasure. Before, she has cast her eyes upon Mai as if she were a thing of value. Mai can never forget that look, she simply can't. Nevertheless, she'll offer a snarky warning, just in case Cellinia needed a little push to retreat from her lofty proposal.]
Guess you'll just have to learn the hard way, like everyone else does.
no subject
Date: 2025-03-24 07:54 pm (UTC)because that wasn't what her mind considers a mate, her very definition of it differs from the traditional sense of marriage. this isn't something given lightly. wolves do mostly take one mate for life, and this unusual circumstance between them has stirred up something fierce.) Do you really think someone like me would want one of those women who sits pretty and mundane? That I'd expect someone to change for me after you saw how I looked at your age? (now there's a revelation. indeed, that photo and corpselike look to her? she was the same age as mai. she wouldn't be here if that haunting photo said something without the help she received. that look and demeanor she had, like she was dead. supposed to be dead and dreaming of it as time ticked onward. the fact she pulled herself out of it with others helping her....that's a feat in itself. she had someone willing to not give up on her.
it's as if she's got more than what she shows on the surface going on, those thoughts and nightmares of a past long buried and bloody she tries her hardest to pretend isn't there any longer on her heels. which means, cellinia revealed something else in that unexpected confirmation about the photos. another question for her lover to chew on, does that mean she noticed more than those idiots walking the street while they carried on? did it mean she knew a girl felt dead and sullen, more than she'd ever dare to reveal? what was it that cellinia has dealt with, to cause her to notice? answers are harder to come by than more questions about this mystery presented before her little red riding hood.
enough that mai's own mother and father would have surely called for this beast to die had the truth come out. that mai is facing a bona-fide killer of her own kin. patricide isn't a lofty title, and it's something reserved for those willing to commit such a horrible act. she's not the first that's become a lone wolf by wiping out her entire familiga, she wouldn't be the last. especially not for something as horrific a crime as patricide.)
Nor would it be a scar like you're thinking.
(this isn't a bluff, this is serious. locking them both in a game to go with her request to ruin one another. that the wolf means it. she isn't that type to bluff either, one only has to look in those beautiful amber eyes to know. their sharpness, how they seemingly pierce right through anyone so stupid to challenge her. whatever could it mean? to be the lover of a wolf who carries herself the way cellinia does, it means many things. that she felt she desires them to that length. she doesn't deny this as she finds it difficult to not consider the possibility of it happening by first sight. could this be something as warped as a twisted love affair in the making between them? one that could surely end in blood if they were found?
but that's the frightening thing! the stakes would only grow higher, who knows how long before it sets in how much realer this is getting for her wolf. because she isn't retreating, that look in her eyes suggests plenty on that. when she wants something, she chases it. when she desires someone too, she wouldn't give up. that was nothing to her. which brings the bigger and more frightening question, would she stay? would she show her how much of a treasure this woman is by becoming her lover fully, going beyond those lesser women who dared to even try? since cellinia is far more different than them. that air of chivalry aside, everything about her oozes something more than she'd ever reveal to anyone.
past what few bits and pieces she speaks of freely in odd remarks and concerning commentary given about her old life. what even was she before? that's what would never be said. what an oddity her wolf is, a frightening thing when someone gets far enough to almost touch it.)
I only said that it's your win if I do it, if I completely mark you. Somewhere on that pretty skin of yours. Or are you backing out now to retreat at the idea of it happening?
(from the earlier remark, it should be obvious what she thinks of cowards. weak. not even worth her effort, not worth any bit of her gaze on them. nor were they worth her time in general, all they were had been people she killed quickly then left. for those who didn't get away from her in a fight, anyway. anyone else? she would ignore them and go about her day without any words. nothing but cordial while maintaining her distance.
though that also makes it amusing, cellinia would have thought that about mai's very own family. mai was the one who followed her into the wolves den. that means she does think somewhat differently about her, enough to respect her and think she's got more guts than anyone in that damn household. who is crazy enough to follow the big bad wolf into their den, anyway? girls with nothing to lose, just like the wolf herself who's ears twitched into her soft fingers.)
Because here I thought you were ballsy to taunt me, to keep pushing me the way you are like you got nothing to lose. So come on, try and tame me into making you mine fully, Mai.
(once again, her name is purred out that way her lover likes. a challenge, a risky one. who knows what would happen at the end of it....if they're even alive and survive that long. because in their worlds, that's always the risk.)
no subject
Date: 2025-03-25 01:37 am (UTC)[That is to say, they would be completely disappointed with someone like Mai if they were ever saddled with her in some pointless, lifelong union. Sure, she can know her place for a while, play along with her assigned role until she starts to get cagey and decides to mouth off. And anyone worth their salt would swiftly remind her of what she is and who she belongs to.]
Someone like you, though? I don't know a thing about you, other than that you're a bored little wolf with nothing better to do than snatch up girls to eat.
[And that those wolfish eyes are frighteningly capable of boring into her soul with a devotion that Mai has never seen in any human she's had the misfortune of knowing. Now, though, those same eyes taunt her with the same ruthlessness Mai was so comfortable doling out. How bitter this medicine tastes when forced upon her to swallow, this time. And she loathes it, oh, how annoyingly frustrated it makes her feel to feel the upper hand slipping. She'd rather Cellinia return to looking at her with a misplaced adoration without expecting anything in return-- but it looks like she's caught on to Mai's greedy antics, and is coming to collect.]
But I guess you cleaned up okay, didn't you? If we're talking about people with nothing left to lose, you really had me beat, there.
[That photo is brought to the forefront of her mind again, the misery and emptiness in that Cellinia's eyes making her feel more than just a little bit of empathy. At least Mai has the decency to give a tough front, a snarky and prickly facade, despite her own anguish tethering her to the depths of its void. At least Mai has enough pride to never let the world see her own damning loneliness, let alone allow it to be immortalized in a photo. That Cellinia was no older than Mai and dared not hide how dismal she felt her existence was, even going so far as to keep it as a reminder for any guests to see and judge-- it almost makes Mai feel disgusted on Cellinia's behalf. Almost. She holds her tongue, knowing better than to make any further acidic remarks on a past she has no clue about.
Interesting though, what a far cry from that girl Cellinia is, now. It does beg the question if the wolf became any more well-adjusted after existing as a living corpse. Considering where the two of them find themselves, currently, perhaps the answer to that question is more than a bit complex-- or maybe the answer is simply a resounding 'no.' ]
Funny, though-- earlier you were so adamant about belonging to me, but I don't hear any of that anymore when you're talking about me 'winning' whatever this is. You think I'm the type to back down after I've gotten this far? Don't forget-- I know how to get you right where I want you.
[She hates it, the tone of those words and the insinuation behind them. That Cellinia would look upon her with ridicule should she back off at this point in their morbid little game, rather than with the poisonous worship she's tempted Mai with-- oh, that really fuels this swell of annoyance in her. More than that, though, it makes the desperate and clingy part of her want to meet that challenge with everything she can muster, just so she can steal back that intoxicating adoration and never let it slip through her fingers again. If she has to try and subdue a violent wolf to get her way, she won't shy away with getting a little bloody, herself.]
You can talk tough all you want, Cellinia, but you're not fooling me. When I win, it'll be when I've ruined you. And you'll be so broken in that you're not even gonna be thinking about marking me as a mate.
[She draws out that last word with a mocking lilt to her voice, eyeing Cellinia like this honorable offer of hers means so little to Mai. Show her exactly what being chosen for a mate is worth, pretty wolf. Slash away this troublesome girl's ignorance of what she's falling deeper and deeper into with every second she doesn't back away from Cellinia's risky challenge. Because Mai still has some fight in her, after all, despite every warning and survival instinct begging her to retreat from the beast's lair.]
So, then-- are you in that much of a hurry for me to tame you? Or can I squeeze a few more manners out of you so I can finish my shower?
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Date: 2025-03-25 02:37 am (UTC)(because she isn't them, she won't be. what she is, is something else entirely. they're all fortunate that she never did become that dutiful wife her father wanted to be; she never would have survived it for long. not from those raging instincts, the desire for violence. that underlying urge for it. she's a natural-born prodigy of something as frightening as death and dealing it in how she can change her demeanor into being anything but normal. that side of her that she always tries to keep further down away from others. nobody needed to see her like the way she had been before; that wolf who would have taken lives mercilessly. it didn't matter if nobody knew about her being this terrible. not even about the cause of the sickness, the cause of her own tiredness. she's here, she's freed from all of it. or that's what the wolf has often told herself.
which is why she finds it easy to call out others, she knows too well some things. she's proof enough of someone being worse off than she'd care to admit. but that didn't mean those taunting eyes and their ruthlessness didn't have that devotion to them. because she does this exactly due to those confusing feelings. admiration, devotion, and worship of a girl that has never had it once in her life. how much of it does she understand? don't you care to find out and learn now, lover? how she would make your family pay, how she'd while covered in blood kiss you so sweetly? why not the idea of her granting you that freedom she took by force?
there is so much more underneath it, that intoxicating adoration is only the beginning in how serious her gaze is. the sight of her issuing a challenge so fiercely. whatever is this to anyone else? they'd never understand the feelings a beast like her could ever have when met with someone that has suffered anguish that reaches down into her very soul. the agony that she knows all too well when mai speaks about it. about her in those photos again.)
You're right. I had absolutely nothing.
(another bone chilling admission. what did she mean by that? surely someone like her would have had people to rely on, people that cared about her to that point. right? the answer to that won't be mentioned. her sole saving grace came from one concerned beast, and that was that. nobody cared about the sole survivor. she who burned everything in fire then left behind the corpses in blood, in the rain that she smells so thickly of often.
but she says nothing more on it, she won't. what she instead does is reach to take mai's other hand. her own so very rough, so worn and having had taken so many lives. she does this because she won't elaborate, with the way her lips press to the top of it like something half chivalrous, half not. devoted and wild, two halves that would always exist of this wolf. the pretty wolf who would not back down from the promised challenge she gives her lover. she wouldn't just show her, she'd teach her what it means to belong to someone like her.)
I'll ruin you beautifully in kind, Mai. Don't even doubt that for a second.
(no, that tone says this is a promise. another vow, devoted and more than that. she would ruin this goddess beautifully. even as she steps away from pinning her, her hand holding mai's while she pulls her in closely. like she wants to whisper a secret, but the reality is more than that. she wants to touch and be touched in kind. those searing eyes are all hers, the fire that burns in them and everything. nobody has gotten these reactions from the wolf, so perhaps mai can say she's on the right track.)
Then touch me, I'll burn your body in my mind as you do mine for this.
(come on, pretty goddess, she'll make you feel like you belong and more.)
no subject
Date: 2025-03-26 12:04 am (UTC)Got a little more than 'nothing,' now, though.
[And Mai doesn't just mean herself, caught in the clutches of this wolf deep in her lair. Even though there's an exit in sight, she averts her eyes, only wanting to watch her captor carefully. Mai wants to search her, wants to find where that dead-eyed girl in that picture finally became this ravenous wolf pinning her against the shower. If only she could see where the threads of the past tied in knots with those of the present-- if only she could discern a similar path out of her own grim life. Ah, is that jealousy stirring in her again? This rotten feeling that has her delusional to think that, if she should be the one to sink her teeth into her lover, she might be able to taste the secrets to freedom, herself.
Truthfully, the sticky feeling of jealousy is far better than whatever familiarity arises at Cellinia's icy admission at a depthless existence of emptiness. If this wolf can sniff out even a hint of a similarity within her, it would mortify Mai. Don't look at her, don't look at her like they're the same. For she has so little left-- close to nothing, herself. And she'll be damned if she ends up being pitied by Cellinia for it.
She'd rather be ruined beautifully a million times over than find herself in that position.]
....We'll see about that.
[Of course, Mai doesn't doubt it, no matter how strongly she wants to end up the victor. She can feel it in the heat of the kiss that Cellinia presses to her hand, that this promise is so close to being fulfilled. Mai beholds this display with an impatience that's nearly splintering at the edges. Damn this wolf, pulling her between extremes like this.]
I knew it, though. I knew getting involved with you would give me a headache.
[Humans are a headache, too, but at least they're boring enough for her to dismiss once she's had enough. This wolf has her claws sunk into her but deep, now, and Mai is smart enough to recognize that pulling herself away would mean tearing chunks of her flesh out in the efforts. Not that she even entertains the idea of being that kind of coward-- Cellinia won't get the satisfaction of seeing Mai as the one to retreat with her tail between her legs. No, but she'll give her another manner of satisfaction, something far more mutually beneficial.
This attempt at a shower is a bust, and Mai has given up on the idea of getting properly clean. The water still runs over them, a touch cooler now, though does it really matter when their blood is still running hot from all of their taunting? She lets Cellinia pull her close, their hands still linked, and Mai steels herself again to rise to the challenge posed to her. Bracing her free hand at the back of Cellinia's neck, she brings her in tightly for a deep kiss, practically willing the taste of frustration to be traded between their tongues. Through heavy droplets of water collecting upon her eyelashes, Mai watches Cellinia with a growing exasperation towards those gallant words and those taunting eyes. Then, with an audible smack, she abruptly breaks the kiss.]
...Whatever.
[This annoyed utterance is more towards herself than anything. Her hand squeezes firmly at Cellinia's, fingernails digging slightly into that roughened palm.]
Turn off the water. I want you on the bed.
no subject
Date: 2025-03-26 02:09 am (UTC)there is no pity, she doesn't pity this girl. she only knows as depressing further as the idea is that they're both bound to be doomed. born to die, born to fade away into something that would have ended them. something that should have killed the wolf while she tried to escape that soul crushing hell she once had been part of. she did have a little more than nothing, her eyes are on one person and that understanding is what seems to gnaw at them. they know too well, they would never say it or admit it. the wolf is not going to say it even if she did come to realize this later.
because they both know, saying it out loud would only destroy them further. they've lost more than they'd tell anyone. cellinia almost surely would not tell her lover everything. not about those days when she found herself going through the motions. how long did she dream of dying until those dreams ended? it took a long time, that was the unsaid part. that bone chilling and empty stare had faded as life returned throughout seven years to a woman that had some manner of luck on her side. not good luck, not all the time.
but they didn't need to think about it. her hand is in mai's own, her thoughts are anywhere other than that history she once had been part of. the bloodstained streets and dreary rain that constantly fell on her, on others like it was a constant weeping from the sky about the lives taken.
she didn't need to know about it. while she holds her hand so tenderly, while she pushes forth feelings they both could hardly parse with where they are. it'd be a miracle if they did know what this feeling was, so soon, so fast. they didn't. not the way that cellinia runs her rough fingertips along mai's hand. that same gallant way she has. the game has been set, the challenge made while they're both unwilling to back down from a certain truth. they're only going to fall in too deep. the comment about her being a headache was something she would have snorted at, if cellinia had it in her.
she could say that she felt the same about mai in a way, but doesn't. because they both know it's a mutual fact this time that wouldn't change. cellinia is a headache to deal with, there's a reason why her friends often struggle to tell what she's thinking or feeling. a bigger struggle to know what she's thinking about in particular between her and her pretty goddess. they're impatient.
they're both feeling it even as she gets pulled in. tight, the kiss deep and frustrated, hungering. she almost melts to it before it breaks, the annoyance evident in mai's tone as amber are on hazel. she didn't say it would be that easy. it won't be easy, not on both of them whenever she almost loses herself in those eyes again from their closeness. that is, until she reaches as mai requested with her free hand to turn the water off. the coolness of it did nothing for stopping that heat thrumming in her veins. she's on fire, lit up and craving into being this ravenous beast before mai.
her hand squeezes mai's own in return, the feeling of nails slightly in her palm doesn't deter her much. if anything, roughness has always been something she enjoys, but she isn't the sort to go too far with that. the kind with nails in her back and teeth leaving marks was more than enough for this big bad wolf. little red riding hood doesn't need to fear that much whenever she opens the door for her lover.)
My room, then.
(the secret of it might not ever be obtained this early, but that didn't mean she was against the idea of her lover taking what freedom she's given greedily. doesn't she deserve that, too? freedom. the taste of it, the need of it. all at her fingertips and they both hadn't known that themselves. their story could end in blood spilled and them disappearing, or in them quietly fading like a real pair of lovers on the run from what awaits.
cellinia for her part is dutiful and minding her "manners" again. she's curious, anyway. what is mai planning to do in her bedroom when she gets the wolf beneath her and that body the goddess considers perfect? is she going to mark her more as her canvas?
that's the bigger mystery in itself for them.)
no subject
Date: 2025-03-26 08:51 am (UTC)And here she is, acting like the least virtuous girl of them all. Though, maybe there's something to be said about the way she clings to an affection that will surely slice her heart open viciously, one day. Maybe there is something pure about it, a sliver of purity that lurks beneath layers of bitterness that would only desire to smother the virtue of this twisted pursuit. Could this tiniest of fragments be enough to salvage her soul from being cast into hell? Or perhaps one day, she might see her wolf in the devil's clutches and decide that she would rather embrace her rightful place in the flames than to never taste another drop of that devotion.
It's another thought for another day, one far, far in the future-- provided she makes it through today in one piece. Luck might have been on her side at the commencement of their meeting, but now the playing field has leveled enough that Mai feels the shift of it beneath her feet. Annoying, the real headache of it all. Mai is plenty aware that she is no better, a veritable headache all her own, but that beloved trait of hers hardly affords her the upper hand here, not with the way Cellinia opens the shower door for her, once more falling into the role of the well-mannered lover. Before, she had cornered Mai against the glass, and now she permits her to leave, facilitates her departure for a more promising (and hopefully more successful) endeavor. It certainly feels like she's at the beast's mercy, but like the petulant girl that Mai is, she won't be satisfied until the pendulum swings back in her favor.]
Yeah, yeah. I know where it is.
[Her hand still latched onto Cellinia's, Mai steps out from the confines of the shower with her wolf in tow. Tepid water begins to pool immediately on the tiled ground where her footsteps fall. Someone else's problem, not hers-- she's not the one who needs to mind her manners right now. Let her trail water all the way to bed, it'll be forgotten quickly once she resumes her little warpath. On her way out of the bathroom, Mai catches one last glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her hair frames her face in wet strands from which droplets still fall, and her cheeks are slightly flushed from the temperature. Her expression is far more impatient than before-- but she can still recognize herself. Better not lose, she commands her reflection. Because once this game and this challenge reach their conclusion, Mai doesn't want to recognize herself. She wants to see herself the victor, for once. And Cellinia, well... she doesn't want to recognize her, either, but for a completely different reason.
Reaching the bedroom, Mai loosens her fingers and pulls her hand away entirely, immediately taking a seat at the edge of the bed and looking up at Cellinia still standing only feet away from her. The dampness of her skin finds a new home in the bedsheets beneath her, but something about the odd discomfort of it only heightens the excitement at getting to prove her mettle against a wolf ruled by her enigmatic duality.]
Well? Waiting for an invitation? Come here, then...
[But as soon as the words leave her lips, Mai clamps her mouth shut and a thoughtful look graces her features before she speaks to correct her own suggestion.]
No, wait-- I think I'll be nice and make that little wish of yours come true, Cellinia. I'll even let you thank me when i'm done.
[Whatever does she mean...? She nestles her chin in her open palm and eyes Cellinia cooly as if she knows she's about to utter something rather bold without paying any mind to the impropriety of it all.]
Go and grab me something to tie you to the bedframe with. I don't need you getting any funny ideas and losing your cool on me again.
[There-- some of the mystery is dispelled now, isn't it? Sometimes, being plain about her intentions will earn Mai her way more swiftly than dancing around them. Let's see how quick to obey her pretty wolf still is... ]
no subject
Date: 2025-03-26 08:08 pm (UTC)but she isn't that capable of it, not the way she would have been in her youth. it's a miracle that the wolf could even give so much of herself now, in bed with a stranger who she had taken that chance with for a change. she doesn't argue, she doesn't fight any further. mercy is there, it even exists within her while her curiosities remain. she could recognize that mai is on the warpath about her interruptions and taunts, their back and forth which had sparked more than a game between a pair of girls who were far too similar. similar enough they'd never admit it. not to anyone more than themselves when it crept in that there was more to them and their meeting than they'd ever know at the time. what mai receives is devotion, the taste of it and the desire to grant it to her.
the water dripping to the floor is something that can be ignored, all along the wooden floors and across from the bathroom. her tail drips the brunt of it, so does that lengthy hair of black and red. cellinia doesn't say a word else, she follows hand-in-hand. her mind is elsewhere, just like her attention is on this girl. watching her every movement and memorizing it. from her steps to how mai's hand felt in her own while she stays near to her goddess.
whenever mai took a seat, she was about ready to get on her knees for her lover again, to be that dutiful wolf until she taunted her so prettily into that ravenous beast she could be. that is, until she had other ideas. cellinia was silent, curious on what was about to be said after being told she could even thank this little red riding hood when she's done. the question is on her tongue, but then mai clarifies. her remark in the shower about tying her down to be at her lover's mercy? that's the least surprising thing of this day from what the wolf thinks about it.
since she did mention it (and really, it was cellinia's idea) so casually, it almost causes her to wonder more what sort of merciless touch her little red riding hood has in mind. there's a pause, but she's checking her night stand. back to her lover again while she sits on the other side of the mattress. close enough to be touched, to be grabbed again if her guard was dropped. maybe it might be, now that's an amusing thought for what is drifting into evening between them.
the glimmers of the sunsetting matches those pretty eyes of her wolf's own when after some shuffling around she takes out what looks to be a red tie. one of the ones she hadn't used yet for her suits, brand new and looking tempting to bind her wrists with. no handcuff surprises, as amusing as the thought is of someone like cellinia carrying handcuffs would be. she didn't seem the type for anything they're doing, that they're indulging in.
some might have even been thrown for a loop after knowing her, though that's what makes it interesting. that she can have more to what once had been a woman expecting her death to come any time, any place and dreaming about it. she doesn't argue, not about her suggestion from earlier when that red tie is held out to her lover. this is playing a game against a predator, isn't it? they know when to strike and when to wait. that doesn't mean cellinia is foolish enough to be impatient more than earlier and hastier than how she acted.)
Will this do, then?
(it's not like her room has a lot to be used for this, for sinful indulgences and lover's spending time in bed with her. she's got more than this one tucked away in that drawer, those beautiful eyes are looking at mai in all the right ways again. despite that lurking beast beneath them, she's captivated and drawn in. could this ever be a good idea to have a wolf solely as hers, one like cellinia who may tear to pieces anyone that pushes their luck too far?
or is it only fitting? the way they'd tear one another in a more figurative sense to pieces, how they'd drag one another through that fire called their lives. the more hellish side being mai's while cellinia's own hell had faded to nothing aside from ash and burnout embers.
unsurprisingly, the radio plays in the background. nothing too discernable yet, but she did reach with the remote to turn it up. if only to give them a cover while not allowing her poor neighbors to come over disturbed by the loud sounds of music in the background. the song itself seems to be almost over before it begins the next act of their twisted affections and everything that would blossom eventually into a love that might never stop haunting both wolf and little red riding hood.)
no subject
Date: 2025-03-27 10:31 am (UTC)As it is, her imagination is plenty occupied with the different ways she plans on touching and teasing Cellinia once she has her tightly secured. What would her lover enjoy most-- and what would make her crumble so thoroughly for her precious goddess? Something tells Mai that there may be some overlap between the two.
Her first order of business, of course, will be completing her work upon that perfect canvas, marking Cellinia up anywhere there's a blank space begging for her teeth to sink in and her lips to suckle firmly. Hazel eyes trail eagerly over her lover's body bathed in the warmth of the golden hour sifting in from a partially shuttered window. A devastating beauty, really, even with the dark ink running across her back and arms, decorating her skin dangerously with images of ferocity and nature's splendor.
Away from Cellinia's immediate attention, now it's Mai's turn to eye her curiously. She's never before laid her eyes upon a woman who styled herself like some sort of yakuza kingpin-- strange, Mai never got the impression that the delivery service she was utilizing was mob-affiliated. It would be just Mai's luck, wouldn't it, to get herself caught up in something perilous while chasing some self-satisfaction? Yet, in an odd way, it doesn't truly frighten Mai as it ought to if she were anyone normal, a girl who wasn't born into a rather merciless family of her own. And Mai is used to their cold and unfeeling eyes whenever they find themselves upon her, is used to shouldering whatever cruelties and insults they see fit to bestow upon her just for existing. Cellinia doesn't scare her in this respect-- if only because she's treated Mai with a tenderness that doesn't match up to her tough exterior.
Well, Cellinia's mysteries pile up more and more, don't they? The vicious eyes of the wolf tattooed upon her back is at odds with the calm expression she wears while she draws out a handful of something red from the nightstand. A tie, it seems, of quality fabric that should be able to withstand some tension from what they're about to get up to.]
It'll work. Better than nothing.
[Some snarky remark is smothered before it rolls off her tongue-- something about how she was honestly surprised that Cellinia didn't have a leash hanging around here somewhere that would do the trick just as well. It's not that she is purposefully treading lightly, but it would be a pain if she provoked any annoyance once more in the wolf before she had her tied down and unable to act on said annoyance.
Accepting the tie held out to her, Mai runs her fingers over the smooth fabric and smiles softly to herself. What manner of predator offers herself to be captured so readily? Her wolf is a rare thing, isn't she? Wearing the appearance of someone who would gladly dine on savagery, while once more beholding her with those eyes-- the ones that Mai can't help but desire all the more strongly. As soon as she gets her way, they won't be able to look anywhere else but at Mai while she makes good on her promise.
She waits for Cellinia to set down the remote to her radio before taking her hand and pulling her atop the bed, her eyes rather mirthful once the sounds of music fill the otherwise quiet bedroom more loudly than earlier.]
Ha, don't tell me you're shy now. I thought you liked showing off a little.
[It's fine, Mai will hardly object despite the teasing she doles out. There's no shortage of amusement that she feels about it, though-- that Cellinia would want to be considerate of either the neighbors or the two of them is but another facet of her that goes at odds with her dangerous appearance. Has Mai lucked out-- or has she simply grown accustomed to this peculiar headache?
Perhaps the answer to that line of questioning doesn't truly matter all that much, with how Mai presses a hand against Cellinia's chest to urge her down atop the bed. She's committed, after all, to seeing this through to the end, wherever the end might have her. The little smirk on her lips makes it obvious that her greatest ally for this next act will be her fearlessness.]
Be good for me, Cellinia.
[And then Mai straddles her, gathering her wrists in her hands and beginning to wind the blood-red fabric around them before weaving it through the openings in the bed frame. She makes as many passes as the length of the tie permits, finishing her work with a couple of sturdy knots. Not bad, but nothing a bit more practice can't fix.]
no subject
Date: 2025-03-27 08:44 pm (UTC)she doesn't say anything else (not yet) for the time being, her attention once again is distracted by those hazel eyes whenever she gets pulled into bed for her. her hand reaches for the moment after the teasing to brush against mai's cheek. cellinia's fingertips, light and tender. it's harder not to touch her for now, the same way it isn't easy for her to not look at her lover's pretty face. mai might think cellinia has a perfect body, but she could say it more about her goddess and little red riding hood. that mai's own is much more perfect to the touch, to look at and marvel at with those beautiful eyes of hers.
the golden hour acts as a backdrop to the mood, highlighting their bodies more and the color of ink along cellinia's arms. flowers and storms. she didn't seem the type for them, and yet she likes them as much as she does the oncoming storm. it's a contrast to the imagery along her skin, the places that mai marked along her back and along her neck, her collar.)
I thought you'd only want to hear me, as much as I want to only hear you.
(never mind that she isn't the best of flirts, but she tries for this girl. the teasing met with her pretty words again. her lips are against mai's briefly, to steal a quick kiss whenever her back touches the mattress, the blankets on top of it. there is no struggle, she doesn't resist her lover tying those battle worn hands above her head. she's at her mercy since this was cellinia's idea. at the mercy of her goddess, this wolf has her body, and it's beautiful canvas waiting for her pretty lips. for her teeth to mark more flesh along the many scars covering this girl.
maybe it was for another reason as sweet as that, as romantic as it sounds. that she wants only the sounds she makes and the sounds mai makes to be all for them alone. nobody else, nobody can have them in the most tender of ways. in how they might get with being unable to help themselves throughout this evening alone where cellinia relaxes. her arms are at ease for being tied up like this, no visible discomfort from the sturdy knots tied into that tie she had given her beautiful goddess.)
But that doesn't mean I wouldn't show off your marks you give me....
(because she would, she has with those tattooed arms being exposed earlier. obviously she receives dirty looks on occasion from them if she doesn't hide said arms, some even judging before they speak to her in her already interesting life. among misfits and weirdos who would draw attention of their own while cellinia is the one with the biggest target on her back. foreign, tattoos, and someone as beautifully handsome as she is gets too much attention.
but that didn't matter, not right now. not when she looks up at mai as the music shifts into something slower. now there is nothing holding them back, unlike in the car which was cramped and less spacious....her bed has plenty of room. more than enough for her lover to take advantage of while touching her most precious wolf. her wolf and those eyes she only wants to look at her, to see giving her reverence and devotion just like this in their own little world. they didn't need to know where she was.
(the voice over the radio is a woman's voice, humming out: so many mornings, i woke up confused. in my dreams, i do anything i want to you....)
come on, pretty little red riding hood, pretty goddess. she wants you to touch her, she wants to bury you in tenderness against the lurking beast within her eyes. she wants all of you for herself, or that's what she would realize much later.)
I'll be as good as you want me to be, Mai.
(however long that lasts, it would be another mystery. a wolf is still a wolf, but she likes to go against that side of herself. she likes to. because that makes things interesting, seeing a wild animal go against their own instincts while still holding that danger to them. a predator that wants to not consume their love viciously, but in something more than that.
she's every bit looking forward to this, to seeing how mai would ruin her and planning to ruin her lover tenderly in kind.)
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Date: 2025-03-28 03:35 am (UTC)What would that 'something' be? Mai wants to shove that gnawing feeling away, if only for now, lest it try to cling sneakily to every touch and kiss she leaves upon this pretty canvas spread out beneath her. Nothing should change, even though everything already has between them by now. They're no longer in the cramped backseat of Cellinia's car, where they could claim the excuse of a quick, meaningless indulgence of lust. They're here now, bodies damp from the shower, enjoying a far more comfortable playground atop Cellinia's bed, trading little flirtations while the music shields them from any nosy neighbors. It's certainly romantic, far more than it ought to be for what they're here to do.
She stifles a laugh at the thought of it-- she can't acknowledge it aloud. Mai doesn't want to let Cellinia know where her thoughts wander to, how soft they can become despite herself. She's here to ruin this handsome wolf, but... the more she looks down at her, with Cellinia well at ease with her arms bound over her head and staring up at Mai with a marked tenderness, the more Mai's initial pettiness towards the endeavor seems to abate.]
You're so agreeable, now. I really like you, like this.
[ 'So we're there, now it's real
Now that you have me, do you want me still?'
Well, that goes without saying-- of course Mai wants her pretty badly. Still kneeling over her, Mai takes Cellinia's face between her two hands, cupping her jaw ever so sweetly, and leans in closer for a kiss. Hers to claim, this time. And everything is hers, now, every single bit of Cellinia is her to claim. It's just like she wanted, no? And her precious wolf seems only too happy to present it to her, to offer herself up both bound and reverent for a girl she recognizes as so direly greedy. Good-- let her taste that greed again in each deep kiss that Mai takes from her, gives her. The line between give and take blurs, bleeding into either side until it becomes utterly negligible. Yet another subtle change, the slow disappearance of an 'upper hand,' despite their distinct positions here.
Nevertheless, Mai hums softly into their kisses, drawing out each connection of their lips before separating for the briefest of moments only to return again, taking Cellinia deeper and giving herself more deeply in return. This dance of ruin is hers to guide and orchestrate, but she can't help but fall just a bit more under the influence of Cellinia's eyes. There are many different ways to ruin someone... and Mai feels compelled to heed her own invisible scars, not wishing for them to influence her into clawing her lover and leaving behind cruel traces of disdain. No, the ruin that she's decided on will haunt them forever-- an apparition that Mai decides that she will create, herself, conjuring it into existence despite never having felt its passionate presence.
The singer croons on-- 'I'm tired of loving somebody that's not mine...'
It is rather tiring, no? Wasting love on someone who would never turn back and repay it, and then holding onto that love tightly, letting it stagnate and fester into something so despair-bitten that it might as well not even be called 'love.' What good was such a feeling, anyway? Mai had never even seen her parents love one another-- that heartless man behaved as if he was ignorant of the very emotion, that even entertaining it would have been so far beneath him that the thought alone would provoke his ire. Her mother was like any other woman in that horrible place, with obedience being her tribute to love, an obedience to a system that demanded her own hatred towards the children she carried and birthed. And because her parents refused to love her-- her and Maki-- Mai finds herself unable to recognize that feeling in the world around her. The love she once clung onto, devoted to her sister, was rendered worthless, as well. Not enough to keep her close, not enough to even keep Mai safe in the swell of hatred ever-ready to snuff out that dying ember of purity in her heart.
So-- this must not be love. As Mai dances her soft fingertips down Cellinia's neck, pressing her palm flat as she makes her way along her sternum, she repeats this silently to herself. This isn't love, it can't be. She won't let it be so-- even if her say in the matter has long since been yanked out of her grasp.]
You'll keep your eyes on me, won't you?
[Her eyes are alight with mischief, but her question is breathed out with an affection that isn't quite befitting of a goddess of ruinous delight. But Mai knows, already, that Cellinia isn't the type to close her eyes, or keep them trained on the ceiling while she wishes for this encounter to be over and done with. She knows that those gorgeous eyes won't ever leave her-- but Mai wants to hear her stoic wolf declare herself to her again.]
Because you might not ever get a show like this, again.
[Though reluctant to cease their kisses once more, Mai shifts back just enough for her to dip her head and begin to press her lips against Cellinia's ribs, nibbling aimlessly about the expanse of damp skin.]
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Date: 2025-03-28 05:07 am (UTC)but they're not that far gone, or so cellinia would tell herself. she says it often, no matter the truth of her coming close to doing just that had she not been found. how much are they both going to be ruined? would it be in a way that would make them both dare to dream to disappear from the lives of others like those stories of young lovers who got bigger dreams in their heads? big dreams of escaping their own hell on earth while things were less than happy on the way to that would be paradise. they didn't have that expectation, that desire. not the way that some would have gotten in their heads. they weren't a pair of fairytale lovers; they were the two that found themselves destroyed. what happy ending could they ever ask for if it was on the table? cellinia who once dreamed of dying and mai who was torn apart equally by this world of theirs they both were part of.
wouldn't that be a joke? they're not in love, they so clearly tell themselves. love at first sight doesn't exist, it doesn't. vulnerability is a weakness that both girls can never afford. what's the point of it as they find themselves doing something they shouldn't have ever done? paradise never suited them, not girls like them who were so destroyed by the idea that it could exist and never came for them. that they're here, in her bed with the belief that nothing was different. that they could never dare to dream big or else that disappointment would eat them, destroy what remains of two broken girls that suffered too much. what would it ever do for them?
yet that's the issue, they're liking it too much. they're pretending, but cellinia doesn't dare to look away. her eyes, the adoration that both could never have. that tenderness they never found, the way it wrenches at their poor hearts and crushes them further. it has to be a joke. that they would fall apart in bed, after telling themselves at most it's nothing. one time, but it was difficult to not crave it more in the way this felt too good.
which is frightening. so very scary, so very terrifying that they could feel something beyond what was that emptiness within them. a void that would never be filled in their lifetime as cellinia often told herself, she'd never fill that heart of hers again after what happened.
(i need you more than i want to, need you more than i want to....
show me you're shameless. write it on my neck, why don't you?)
her lips are against mai's, the song carries on. deeper, deeper. her tongue licks into mai's without a second thought from each kiss she takes. each kiss that's given, no less. cellinia melts for her beautifully. how much does she truly need this, how much would she desire anything? her heart, it's pounding. she ignores the feeling and tells herself it's nothing again. that this can't be anything further than their own desires to keep going. want and need are two different things, different but part of the same coin. that coin called vulnerability, that coin she ignores often. she's had one lover before and the woman in question had hurt more than did any good. tearing her body apart in obsessive drive, calling that love while whispering sweetly and calling the wolf those pretty names she uses for mai now instead. as if to tell herself that she's fine.
a soft sigh comes out into each kiss from cellinia, the deeper they get, the further it goes. the brief parting for each making her want more. more of those lips. more of that kiss which she might not stop dreaming of after this night together. she couldn't think about being without it already. had mai truly tore her apart at the behest of her invisible scars, cellinia might have even understood too well that side of the extremes they both were too used to. that they're ignoring instead for softness, for sweetness in every kiss. the tenderness as that greed breaches them. more. her breathing starts to grow unsteady, unsteady and sharper. her goddesses lips more than enough to get her going as a start from how addicted she is, hopelessly addicted, to her kiss.
(there's a tension in between us. i wanna just give in....)
while mai knew both her parents, the sadder fact is cellinia never knew her mother. not for long. her mother was taken from her young. what little love she received had been from her grandfather's own care, her father stopped caring after his own father decided his granddaughter was worth his efforts more. he was jealous of a girl that had been chosen to shoulder what he deemed his responsibility. a woman in a man's world, a men's exclusive club with greater expectations on her. insults, ignorance, and those unwilling to speak to a woman about "business" without cellinia proving herself. too many of them were hell-bent on owning her. what little love she received was never enough. not enough from not having what one would wish for from a parent, truly the moment they passed she was alone. without that and without ever knowing. like now, she tells herself again. this is not love.
as she told herself, love at first sight doesn't exist. that's a fairytale delight. that isn't something a pair of girls like them should ever have while she hums into the kiss for her goddess at her hand trailing along her skin. this isn't love. but it is, they were only too far gone to realize so soon they found that part of their souls they were without. this is love, love that she wants to surrender to in this tension without knowing the emotion she feels. what they're both feeling.
and that's frightening, whenever it may start to set in.)
....I'll always keep my eyes on you.
(she says it so readily, because she means it. she'd never look away from her. not now especially as her eyes follow her lover, a sharp exhale when she breaks the kiss to run those pretty lips along her ribs. the nips of teeth is lovely, her skin damp and that canvas her beautiful goddess could dare dream of.
a body that belongs to her, a woman that might never dare to let go of her.)
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Date: 2025-03-28 07:14 am (UTC)Ah, that declaration of Cellinia's causes an unfamiliar warmth to bloom within Mai's chest. It spreads, stretches outward, like millions of little tendrils wrapping around her from the inside, commanding her to keep touching, keep kissing, keep eliciting those wonderfully shaky breaths from Cellinia's lips. The desperation is there, so hopelessly evident that Mai almost laughs-- but she would be betraying herself if she does, for she wears her own brand of desperation in the dark excitement in her eyes.]
Good girl-- that's the right answer.
[After all, she did tell Cellinia that her favorite girls were those who anticipated her needs-- and what Mai needs now, the only thing she'll demand of her lover, is her dutiful eyes upon her. That's right-- watch her, truly behold this tenderness that others might scoff at had it been suggested to them. No one else needed to believe that such a softness could exist in this thorn-cloaked girl. They could run at the first prick against their thin skin-- let them. She would give this gift to Cellinia, only to her, in exchange for those eyes...
Though, Mai will admit that she's torn-- old habits draw her towards a swifter path, one where she hurries and hastens her way down Cellinia's lovely form, like a mindless animal devouring its meal by the mouthful. Those instincts want to drive her towards claiming what she's after and dancing off with her little victory immediately after. She's as unmotivated as they come, after all, loathing a drawn out battle, knowing that every second spared is but another opportunity for someone else to take what's hers. But who is here to snatch away her prize? Who does she have to look over her shoulder for, out of a reflexive fear of loss? Before, she would have taken her scraps with anxious hands, feasting like some uncivilized animal waiting for the first signal to scurry off when danger reared its head.
But here, she can be something a bit different, can't she? Because she keeps a beautiful beast underneath her, now, bound by Mai's own hands. Yes-- here, the prize is already hers, and all that is asked of her is to savor the taste of triumph without interruption.
So, she'll take her time, pushing her own patience past its limits. Mai can feel herself nearly trembling because of this alien effort. She won't delude herself and outright declare that she's trying to be a considerate lover-- but there's little in the way of other suitable explanations for what compels her to move slowly, deliberately as she kisses and suckles along her ribcage. Her tongue laps at the remaining droplets from their ill-fated shower, seeking out the faint taste of Cellinia's flesh beneath the thin flavor of the water. She satisfies herself plenty, there, before she raises her head up just enough to busy her lips at the swell of Cellinia's breast, this time. Just as slowly, she leaves proof of her efforts in the form of pretty love bites, and her breath fans teasingly over the stiffened bud there as she explores the rest of the skin with her tongue.
Her hands feel rather idle, though-- she does so love touching Cellinia, hearing her gasp and whine so prettily when her fingers find those special places. With one arm kept close to her lover's side, bracing some of her own weight, Mai wills her enthusiasm to tame itself enough to allow for her free hand to carefully descend down Cellinia's torso. Her touch is featherlight, a far cry from the hungry way she raked thin lines along her skin earlier. No, this time she proffers a torture of a different sort, from the way her fingertips map out where her lips will soon follow. When she gets to the stretch of scars traversing her abdomen, Mai takes care to run her fingers along the flesh there, twisted and puckered and marred from who knows what kind of struggle.
Oh, Cellinia-- how beautifully dangerous your body is, what stories it hints at in the battle-borne blemishes and exquisite lines of dark ink. How long would it take Mai to pour over them in full, and could she ever hope to understand every single word nestled in the masterpiece that Fate had rendered of this body? Perhaps, better to give up that endeavor-- and elect to leave a story of her own across her flesh. A shame, that the colorful bruises left in the wake of her lips would only be temporary...
But, Mai will root herself within Cellinia's very soul, somehow. That shall be how she ruins her.
Like earlier, her hand creeps deliciously between her thighs, her fingertips dipping in just enough to admire how worked up she has Cellinia at this moment. The expression on her face doesn't hide one bit of the glee she feels at the sensation, and she kisses at her breast once before gently swiping her tongue over her nipple, not yet daring to take it between her lips.]
Don't forget-- you promised you'd behave, this time.
[She teases in a sing-song voice, resuming her sweet torment that she had begun in the shower. This time, Cellinia is entirely at her mercy, unable to stop her or punish her should she decide to conveniently still her touch. As far as Mai is concerned, as she has the power to do is plead with her for more of whatever she likes most-- and of course, it's up to Mai if she wishes to heed those pleas.]
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Date: 2025-03-28 08:34 am (UTC)she can see that desperation in mai's own lovely eyes, how they glimmer in the now moonlit bedroom. how cellinia's own shines in the dark a dim amber that stands out in the moon bathing them. just like her namesake. of course it was the answer. she knew it deeply, her lover wants her eyes to never leave her. the devotion and how they stare at her. captivated, wanting, and reverent. how could someone like her be drawn in? whatever could be wrong with her? that answer is obvious in how they both ignore it stubbornly. that the fairytales have blessed them with their meeting. enough that they'd likely consider it as being pitied and turn their noses at the foolish attempts of telling them that they found love. not without kicking and screaming in their own means, their own ways.
those thorns that cage them both would blossom beautifully, a garden comprised of roses that nobody would ever touch again. the roots of them growing deep in their bodies and sprouting out the more they struggle. their garden would bloom, but never once would they have known this to be the cause. nor would cellinia think about it while her eyes refuse to leave her dear goddess and little red riding hood. she wants to watch that beautiful face, she wants to memorize every detail of it like a special prize for herself that she'd never lose. she loves it, the way her eyes sparkle at knowing that she has her body as belonging solely to her. that nobody else has touched her the way mai does. not with this tenderness she forces upon herself.
this tenderness that her wolf appreciates more than the way her body was torn apart so very often ages ago. cellinia is enthralled by it, entranced and caught up in how her shaky breaths start to grow more prominent. the consideration is another thing that she appreciates, cellinia knows it must be difficult more for someone as greedy as mai. knowing that she has this canvas, this everything she can touch and more at the palm of her hands. she's every bit earned her enjoyment of partaking in her wolf's body. as the sole person who could ever have her this way, she deserves that, even if they both would not admit this about themselves.
her sighs are soft, the sounds she makes for her and her alone. notes of lovely music while her tongue licks along the droplets of water from their attempt at showering gone awry. the way it sharpens into a whine at how her breath teases a stiffened nipple, pebbled and tempting for her lover to suckle on it at any given time. she has to behave, is another reminder to herself. no matter the way she wants those lips more in her own impatience. she wants so much more, more than she ever knew she could want of someone in how she marvels at mai's expressions. the tender care despite their mutual impatience and want after cellinia was mercilessly teased earlier.
but it doesn't stop her, not from how she starts to moan for her. that soft song of her voice and whines from wanting to be touched. she misses her hands already, how they feel along her skin. their softness another detail she's memorized. how much would she know by heart after tonight? would she know her body alone in it's everything without seeing her? honestly, yes. she would want to memorize her body to that extent and without even giving up on the notion. because she likes to touch her goddess equally.)
Mai....
(ah, there's her name again. said that pretty way her lover likes so much, the rumble of it down her throat. sensitive, so sensitive. how she moans it for her at her tongue going along her nipple and her teasing. is this her worship again? saying her name until it's all that she knows?
no, it's only part of it from that touch to sensitive scars and tracing over them to commit those to memory. her legs parted enough for her lover's hand, she's soaked. dripping wet, and it's hardly going down by how part of it is along her inner thighs. that shower did little to wash it down after they left, it likely wouldn't have stopped her from being that wet by the time mai was done with her in there. that seems to be a given from how turned on she was getting. from how turned on she is right now, too. she's a mystery in her scars, the ink covering her body. the body of this masterpiece that her lover adores.
who knows if she may ever talk about those mysteries, she does know that she would allow mai to mark whatever stories she desires across her skin both ink covered and marred in scars. some old, some new, and some even life-threatening. nasty in their gnarled shapes and sizes. tales of a life spent in blood, death, and the expectation that she was not to ever show mercy.
a life she had unsurprisingly grown tired of.)
I'll....still behave.
(because she didn't want her to stop, she wants her touch so badly it makes her more of a ravenous mess in that way. lovely goddess, won't you touch her until you both find yourselves insatiable? far too greedy for your own good, even? or perhaps touch her while she shows your body after all the things she'd do for you and more than those other lovers had done.)
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Date: 2025-03-29 01:15 am (UTC)Her friends needn't worry too terribly about Mai. By the time they see her again, she'll have eaten quite well, enjoying her fill of a meal comprised of one very delicious wolf. Her impatience is not such that it would have her racing to devour the main course, but Mai can't resist becoming more and more excited with the soft sighs that tumble from Cellinia's lips in response to the way Mai trails her tongue along her skin. How pretty, the way she even whines for more of her lips upon the tender flesh of her breasts. It's just what Mai desires, witnessing the true face of this animal beneath her, one who grows more and more frustrated at this drawn-out waiting game. It's all right, darling wolf, Mai is just as frustrated with her own set pace-- but won't that make it all the more perfect when they both finally get what they want out of this agonizing prelude?
She has Cellinia, really has her, when she hears her name moaned out in that low and rumbling voice. Now that alone is enough to drive into Mai's already frail patience like a goddamn hammer. A sharp breath of her own fills her lungs, and an intoxicating sensation of need rolls down her spine and terminates in a fiery passion between her hips. God, torturing Cellinia is the same as torturing herself, isn't it? When her needy wolf murmurs a promise to behave, Mai nearly snorts-- but this reaction is mostly aimed towards herself, for her own inclination to behave is swiftly weakening.]
Oh, I'm sure.
[ 'What other choice do you have?', her purred reply insinuates. Yet she can tell that Cellinia is aware enough to conclude that being on her best behavior will net her a reward she ought to be rather pleased with. Of course, she can struggle, she can plead and growl and whine as much as she needs to while Mai works her way towards where they both want her to go. As long as she's behaving, Mai will see fit to misbehave to her heart's content. Though, she'll be good to her in this moment, relieving her of one of her aches when she finally wraps her lips around her nipple and sucks at it softly, rolling her tongue around the bud whenever her lips part to skim across the pebbled flesh around it. She alternates between this suckling and nibbling further marks about her breast, only moving over to do the same to its pair once she's happy with her handiwork.
All the while, her fingers are eagerly coating themselves in Cellinia's dripping need between her thighs. A drawn-out hum of approval vibrates against her skin as Mai's fingers get a thorough feel of how much her lover is already melting for her. True, she already had quite the head-start during their time in the shower, but she had no intention of bringing her lover to climax again in that space. Her intention was to torment Cellinia a little before continuing on with a proper shower-- and she should have known better than to think she was actually going to be successful when her handsome lover was at her fingertips like that. There's always later, when she can try again after she's made a mess of Cellinia, and after she's been made a mess of, in return. And how wonderfully messy Cellinia already is, slick and sticky from Mai's touch and her kisses. An urge is there, one that makes her want to slide her fingers deep inside that heat, feeling her walls cling and flutter around her again. Cellinia had accepted her so beautifully before, and wouldn't she want to feel Mai within her again? Yet, Mai narrows her eyes at her own restraint slipping, and shelves that plan for later, deciding to glide her fingers up and down along her lover's sex. They tease at her inner lips before slowly dragging up and rolling over her clit, sliding over the sensitive flesh with ease thanks to how wet she is. She repeats this motion a few times before two fingertips settle back upon that lovely nub, rubbing it in a gentle rhythm, the pressure alternating between firm and featherlight.
As Mai plays with Cellinia, she shifts her body again to move her arm beneath her lover's back. Leaving the rapid pounding of Cellinia's heartbeat behind, she begins to kiss back up the column of her neck, biting down wherever there's a blank space for another mark. Her tongue dances over her pulse point before lapping up to her jaw, and Mai pauses there with a shaky sigh.]
Kiss me, Cellinia. I'll even let you take as many as you want to.
[Mai lifts herself just enough to bring her face closer to Cellinia's, eyeing her with enough yearning to drown them both. Her fingers don't cease, not like they had before when she was hellbent on trying the wolf's patience. No, this time, she wants to see every little expression she makes as the space between their lips close. You'll watch her, precious little wolf, just as she demands-- and she'll watch you, too, with equal delight.]
Because you won't be able to have them for a while.
[Her mouth is positively aching to busy itself elsewhere, and Cellinia knows exactly where that place will be. But right now, while Mai can still command a sliver of self-control, she wants to drink in those euphoric sighs and moans from their source as her fingers coax forth even more of those delicious juices for her tongue to savor when it's time. They can kiss-- Mai wants to kiss-- while she helps draw Cellinia closer and closer to one of the many breaking points she has in store for her.
For all of her greediness, Mai feels almost smug at how generous she's planning on being. Cellinia might even thank her for ruining her so gorgeously, though Mai won't count on receiving that particular gratitude in words. Goodness, her patience is splintering even more at the thought of it... ]
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Date: 2025-03-29 03:06 am (UTC)it's an undeniable craving. how her hands tense from an urge to hold on to her lover, but they're trapped. maybe that's another form of torture between them. she misses her hands on her lover's body and how she felt to the touch. those pretty lips of her roaming along in areas that would get her more cries from this girl who tempted a beautiful and depressing beast. depressing in the way that nobody could come close to her and those thorns burrowed deep inside of her and her walls. those walls which embraced mai's own thorns all the same for what would be their ruin, their haunting of one another from only having a simple name and nothing more.
her heart is racing, those lovely sounds mai so very much craves are loose and free on those lips. she's at her mercy, losing her mind and more from her desires. she knows too well, she wouldn't have been able to misbehave. not from how her hands are tied, not even from how mai pushes her further and further. her little red riding hood, her goddess who makes her crave everything in greed about her of her own. it's only another act of worship, to say the name of her lover so prettily. beautifully for her, the sound of her voice another note in its neediness. under the moonlit night they only need one another.
nothing could come in comparison to that, in the cries of her wolf for this girl and how she whines out. part of her felt relief when mai decides to lavish her breast in more attention, taking finally one of her nipples in her mouth. but they both know, it isn't enough. it's not enough in how she cries those soft sounds that nobody else would hear, or even the way that this handsome wolf digs her nails into her palms from mai's fingers making their way along to tease her further. her breasts now are covered in those lovely marks her goddess seeks to give her, another step closer to her body becoming like a leopard's as she desired more than a wolf's own. right now, her body is an instrument for her lover. for mai's own touch, in soft moans and whines, whimpers, that the wolf makes for her. there is no fight for it, for dominance or anything as she surrenders to her.
she's aching, dripping down along mai's fingers as they tease. running along her lips with her almost begging for them to be back inside of her. another time. that can be another time, is something she knows. how she must feel like a mess might not be lost on either of them, they're already this far along, aren't they? it didn't matter. they both could be those broken messes they are underneath the surface while giving up to pleasure that they never had. the love that they'd both never admit came at first sight for many others, too. but enough about that lover, her eyes are all on mai. she looks so good doesn't she? with pleasure more than what once was a haunted expression in her youth and that emptiness she often maintained on her handsome face. because mai is the one she gives this to, their restraint both slipping away in how cellinia wishes she could touch her.
how she wishes she'd go further in the way she feels her heart hammering, her lover's arm rests beneath her while she feels that mouth of hers marking her neck further. the sensation of kiss and tongue and teeth, her breathing is shakier than earlier. sharper, unsteady, and begging so very much for more in how she's murmuring her lover's name. touch me, she begs with each sweet sound of it. she wants more of it. she needs so much more of it in how sensitive she is from earlier, in how her hips quiver from wanting to roll into those fingers but resists. she knows, her goddess might not take kindly to her stepping out of line further so soon.
her voice, when mai speaks, drags her out of this daze. those lovely expressions she was making must be worth that effort alone. that cellinia hears it. kiss her. take as many as she wants and desires, bathe her in them until mai wants to sate her own hunger on cellinia's body. this body which her little red riding hood calls perfect, the canvas which she wants to decorate further in a different story than what was given to it in tales of death and struggles which would make most run.)
I'd never stop if I did, your lips are something I can never get enough of....I'll bathe them in my own greediness, Mai, I never want to be full when it comes to your kiss.
(goodness, she didn't even slip into her other language for that. how heated her voice sounds, the demands of hunger and desire. she kisses mai, she closes that space between them in urgency. chasing her lover's lips with more of a depth than earlier. those sounds she wants to hear is fed to her, those sighs and gasps mai desired to drink from with pleasure and a deep desire written into her expression from each twitch of it. touch her more, lover, those lips outright beg for it. cry for it into each kiss and brief parting. each lick of her tongue into mai's mouth and tongue.
her taste being another part she grew addicted to hopelessly, next to her touch and kiss so soon. this is what happens when girls like them find their missing halves, the parts of themselves broken to pieces fitting into the souls of another. this is what happens. in heated murmurs of one another's names on their tongues. this is what happens, this will never change in the way their bodies would always demand it.
to find one another again, to haunt one another until they were all that could be thought of. that's what will ruin them further. it already is ruining cellinia as much as it is mai. there's no way around that, that this love will destroy them and make them feel alive again.
that they would never let another take from them what they have never had.)
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