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.)
[Who would have guessed that there was a space in their wall of thorns, the smallest of windows where they can reach out, only to find that another hand is stretched out and waiting to grab it? And they're not unmarred, both of them sliced and bloodied and scarred as their fingers intertwine. They defy themselves with this simple touch, and bind themselves to one another beneath the cover of their shared anguish. Whatever shall bloom forth-- is already blooming-- will betray this resignation to misery, and bury its roots deeper into a feeling that will electrify them with the feeling of life once more.
It pleases Mai, electrifies her already, whenever she sees Cellinia's arms tense and strain a bit against the fabric keeping her in place. Sure, she may not be a thrashing beast, chained and tethered in its cage, waiting to be loosened upon its tormentor-- but it's cute to see her struggling in her own way. The dripping greed that Mai so shamelessly wears sees itself mirrored more and more in Cellinia's expression with every careful touch fed to her. Her furrowed brow, her fluttering lashes, and the way her lips tremble before she surrenders another needy whine to Mai-- she wants more. They both do, don't they? They want to break, they want it all to come crashing down for each other. Everything, shattering completely until the fragments of themselves are so intermingled that, when they build themselves back up again, it will be inevitable that they'll wear the other upon their skin.
Oh, how close Cellinia already is to her breaking point. Mai can tell, from the way her hips are shaking slightly as they refrain from grinding against Mai's fingers, and the way the hands above her head ball into fists, digging her nails into her calloused palms. What a sight, all of it-- especially the pleasure written so wantonly across her lover's face as she gasps and sighs out Mai's name, biting back the obvious pleas for more, more of everything that she's being so generously gifted right now. There's not a trace of that empty-eyed girl from that old photo, and Mai feels alight with the unbridled pride of bringing Cellinia to life again, fully. Yes, she really is a goddess, now, isn't she? There's nothing her touch can't revive, nothing she can't pull from the ether and make manifest. This talentless girl is truly realizing the depths of her gift, in ways she never could have fathomed...
The absolutely lovely praise that Cellinia professes over Mai's kisses make the girl's chest tighten with a powerful fondness. For a moment, she's nearly speechless at how romantic she sounds, and when Cellinia closes the gap between them to claim her kisses, Mai feels as if her her breath is being stolen from her lungs. Why, why is it that, whenever they kiss anew, it feels so utterly different? It feels like a promise, it feels like a vow, it feels like-- No, she won't say it. Because it's not, it's not love.
And when she draws back, untangling their tongues and separating their lips so that she might kiss Cellinia upon her cheek, her eyes are far more gentle, and almost loving when she answers.]
Aw, now you're almost making me feel a little bad for keeping them from you.
[They're both so hopeless, whether or not they realize it yet. But the more that they trade these affections, the more that they find the broken edges of their souls finding their match in the other's-- the more that this hopelessness seems insignificant against the adoration unifying them like this.]
But that's fine, isn't it? Because you know that I'll still be giving you plenty of kisses...
[Elsewhere, of course, but Cellinia is smart enough to catch her drift. Mai's patience is wearing thin, and as such, the kisses she has left to give right now are nearing their end. She peppers the remainders across her face, across her eyelids, the corner of her mouth, and her lips once more-- the last of these kisses. Her chest is partially pressed against Cellinia's, their heartbeats mingling in their racing rhythm. They're so close, now, so close to getting what they both want... ]
And when I'm done with that... maybe you'll beg me to let you be greedy, again?
[At that suggestion, a sly smile spreads across her face. Yes, she'd love it oh so dearly if, when she was done feasting upon her lover, Mai would hear Cellinia pleading for even just one kiss, one that would carry the heady taste of this precious wolf. A single kiss that would, of course, become countless more thanks to their shared greediness. Only time will tell if she would finally release her lover from her bound position, but if Cellinia is as good for her as she vowed to be, then Mai might allow herself to be convinced.
This next act of their ruinous adventure is certainly something to look forward to.]
(this isn't love, they tell themselves. love would never find them, love wasn't ever meant to be for their hands. what a sweet joke that is, cruel and capable of tearing apart even girls like them more than the hands of others that tried. that succeeded in it while they were only young and supposed to be shielded from the world for a time. what good did it do for them, what was love worth to them as the broken youth in this hell of theirs? nothing changed, nothing was different. they were subjected to things most girls their ages would have be sickened by and abandoned them from by proxy. because it didn't matter how they were, how good or how capable they were in their own means. didn't even matter how they were hardly living. people pass by girls like them and think they're only wastes of space.
yet they're here, they're here without that weight on them. this isn't love. this isn't love, this isn't. they can't be in love, that's not meant for them. they can't be as cellinia breathes out shaky breaths, as mai wants to ruin her into being only hers. or as cellinia, truly, wants to haunt this girl and ruin her in kind from this garden of thorns that would bloom. their hands scarred and unmarred holding what little they could grasp through the window, their bodies covered both physical and figurative in wounds. those scars are plentiful. they could have destroyed themselves as much as others without a second thought, they could have faded away into nothing while the world would have never known.
but they didn't, they want to crash a different way in its poison. it's too late for them. she kisses this girl like she's all that she has, the sweet desperation of wanting to melt down into one with her. that sweet ache of wanting release into something more while cellinia reminds herself again: this isn't love. this can't be. this won't be, but what else could it be? lustful encounters don't have two broken girls making promises and vows the way they are. the way they speak to one another like their jagged souls and edges couldn't cut the way that it does any other girl. any other person, even. they don't speak with their prickling thorns threatening to take the poor person that tries. bloodstained and clean hands both reach through the gaps, the snarling beast doesn't snap. it only against the sharper thorns and glass clings tightly to the offering of her. this isn't love.
they aren't in love, they shouldn't be while the wolf kisses this woman so deeply. never satisfied, always wanting. her lips a balm to those tormented thoughts on her mind at a constant while her arms strain from the urge to hold her. that desire to wrap her arms around her lover and roll over so gently unlike earlier for a time in more kisses. more of her lips given in unrestrained desire and those sweeter words that come out of her mouth too naturally when they're flirting. a sincerity in it while she pushes more, while her hands touch upon mai's body like it's a lifeline for her in everything. an anchor she didn't know she needed and hadn't thought about, won't think about even while she wants to touch her again. she's alive. she's so pretty when she's alive, when she's listening to how mai sounded breathless in their kiss. a breathless kiss, of tongues chasing tongues and mouths seeking mouths when her fingers clench again.
burying her nails back into her palms from the unspoken desire she has most in how much she misses touching mai. yet that's expected, isn't it? for girls who ignore the obvious, the love between them, that one of them would miss touching the other as much as the other hates to not have her hands on her. cellinia breathes in slowly when they part again. look at this beautiful wolf of hers in how she stares. something romantic, something that shouldn't be there as the words play about her mind again. they aren't in love. they couldn't. yet how does that explain the way they're speaking to each other, the way their gaze changed into something more than some people could never have from their anguished souls? this is love. this is love in all of its brutality, clinging to them while it has demands of its own. not that love they both didn't have.
this is a love that is not only returned, but a love that they'd never admit to this soon. not in this lifetime, either. hopeless. hopeless in everything, the adoration which binds them in a want for them to melt together. melt away, down, and into their hearts or what's left of their souls that was meant for both girls to have. to bare as theirs while keeping shielded what was left of their hearts. the kiss to her cheek and those words distract the wolf. she's focused, her thoughts fade as those lovely amber eyes are focused on mai's face alone.
she knows what she means, she aches there more at the thought. the dripping wet heat of need, that burning desire. she'd know what mai means with or without them talking about it after she made it clear. that her goddess wants her wolf, that she wants her all to herself and all alone in the gaze of admiration and worship that this lonesome beast gives her. because she wants her too.
she wants to be greedy, she wants to feast on her and everything while making her forget the world exists. they didn't need to think about it and the cruelties of it, they only needed to think of one another. cellinia sighs for her, the kisses easing that rush of want in how she wants to break free from her restraints to touch her goddess. the last one, she moans softly into it from how they're near pressed tightly against one another. mai was driving her madder, more into her patience breaking into pieces from that molten need. their hearts are pounding, a rhythm and a dance of their own they follow alone.)
Maybe I might devour you, too, however much you let me have....do you want that, Mai?
(heated words, heated promises. exchanges that would have made most turn their heads at their whispers, the exchange of two broken souls. not allowed to mend, not allowed to heal, not until now with more reminders to herself. that this isn't love, that her words couldn't be something akin to sweet romance. they are, unfortunately for cellinia, like poetry. in the promise and vow of them while their hearts pound together in anticipation.
she wants too much, in how her lips are greedy and underneath her is going to always be that ravenous beast. she'll devour her goddess down to the last drop while being ruined by her in kind.)
[Is it possible to taste the lies, the denials of burgeoning feelings that make themselves all too obvious with every kiss traded? Oh, darling wolf, don't you see that it's a mistake to kiss this girl in such a manner? Can't you see that you're feeding an illusion that grins cruelly as it ensnares you both in its relentless grasp? Whatever this feeling may be, this illusion of a heartfelt emotion that certainly never meant to find its way between them-- there's no way it truly exists. It's a figment of their imagination, surely. These tender kisses are merely deluding them into believing that one of them bears the pieces missing within the other.
Oh, those vows ought to never have been exchanged, not when such words of devotion are driving them positively mad with the desire to see if they could actually become the truth for them. Perhaps later, much later, when Mai finds herself back in the haze of her miserable life, she might place the blame squarely on Cellinia for this beautiful illusion. She could blame this honey-tongued wolf who promised her pleasure and instead pulled her into her storm of worship, revering her amidst the tempest, making her a beacon worthy of a feeling that she doesn't recognize. Cellinia has stolen her away from her comfortable place in the shadows cast by the light of the sun-- a sun that Mai had once basked in, chased and adored with every fiber of her being-- and dares to anchor her in the secrecy of the night, bathed in moonlight once she's well-nourished by the rainfall.
Yet right now, Mai finds herself parched, and burning with an urge to satiate her thirst fully this time. Despite drinking plenty of Cellinia's delicious groans and gasps while touching and kissing her, Mai finds herself huffing softly in her impatience, not wanting her fingers to solely enjoy what rightfully belongs to her lips. Yet her little warpath towards devastation is compromised even further when she catches the rapt adoration in the way that Cellinia stares up at her. How terrible, and how marvelous-- beholding her with those eyes, as if Mai is the only thing in this world that has any significance. Why? Why does this stranger, this wolf give her what everyone else has denied her? Why does she want more of it, every bit that Cellinia has to give her, even if it comes at the price of letting her in more deeply past her thorny exterior? Now that's frustrating, that Mai feels more at ease with entertaining the idea of taking her lover with a bit more tenderness, next... ]
Fine by me. I don't sleep over on the first date, anyway.
[Cheeky girl, twisting the words around to suit her best. Her eyes say it all, though, when she looks down at Cellinia-- Mai does want it. She wants to set her on fire with the passion of her touch, and she wants Cellinia to ignite her just the same. And her darling wolf can have her, almost all of her. Almost. There's just one part she dares not give. While everything else turns to cinders in this long night, Mai will cling to her heart, and blind herself willfully to the hooks that dig deep, borne of that loving look she glimpses in Cellinia's eyes.]
So, you can go ahead and do your worst, Cellinia. If you still have it in you after this.
[She just can't help herself, her mouth is just so accustomed to causing mischief. And it has no intention of stopping, of course, though the kind of havoc is seeks to wreak will involve a lot less affectionate backtalk from Mai. Briefly, she thinks it over, how dutiful and considerate Cellinia has been with her earlier. Would she have it in her to do the same? Such a thoughtfulness was foreign to Mai up until then, and yet it left such a deep impression on her that she almost feels the compulsion to prove that she isn't some savage when it comes to these intimacies. She's still a well-bred lady, despite all of her unladylike choices today, and if a handsome beast can elucidate her on something akin to lovemaking, then Mai would be remiss show that she wasn't at least an observant learner. It's one of her more positive traits, despite how little she actually acts upon it.
There's a bit more hurry, now, as she kisses her way down Cellinia's body. She doesn't stop much to leave a great deal more marks, just a handful of quick nips about her stomach in between lapping at the twisted skin of her scars along the way. With every inch closer she draws closer to that beautiful heat of Cellinia's, begging to be tasted, Mai feels her heart hammer even more vigorously against her ribs, her breaths leaving more raggedly from her lips. Could it be that she's anxious to prove something to her lover? And what might this something be-- her worth, perhaps? A worthiness for those pretty, devoted eyes she can't seem to get out of her mind? If she weren't swept up in the desire-- the romance-- of it all, Mai would have called herself pathetic. But as she bites softly into the flesh of Cellinia's hip, nibbling along towards her thighs as her faintly trembling hands run up and down her legs, she shoves that criticism deep inside, right along where every other rational self-assessment resides within her. Right-- she isn't good, she isn't special, and she's as pathetic as they come. But she wants to lose herself between Cellinia's thighs for this moment, yearns to taste her thickly upon her lips and forget that every single thing she's done today has been a mistake. That losing herself to an illusion of love is the worst of them all.
Kissing her way up her inner thighs, wetting her lips with traces of her lover's essence, she vehemently tells herself that what she feels is a desire to triumph. And as she darts her tongue out tentatively to taste her from her source, she comes to the odd conclusion that perhaps the triumph ought to be against herself. Whatever sweetness she'll show Cellinia from this point onward doesn't mean anything, certainly not a love that she doesn't think could even exist between them, here.
She'll know it, she'll know by night's end, what exactly this is. She'll know if she is truly victorious come daybreak, when it's finally time to depart from this glimmering illusion and back to her lackluster reality.]
(that's the issue, isn't it? they're unwilling to admit to anything. they can feel it, they know it deep down while telling themselves it's nothing. they're not in love. what good did love do for them and their agony? that way they both once had screamed into the night their voices raw, their bodies weak and tired. hadn't the world had enough of destroying them? they were ruined, wrapped up in vines and thorns that cover every precious part of their bodies. what remains of their hearts, what remains of that small glimmer of innocent desires. love wasn't something they wished for. they had no right to wish any longer for the purity of giving someone their hearts; that's what it's always been like for girls that were crushed by the expectations placed upon them by others. mai expected to be worthless and nothing more than a darling housewife, an obedient girl for a future husband with no hope of freedom. cellinia to be that woman at the front of the table. leading and calling the shots, controlling everything as the world is at her fingertips.
but it didn't work out that way. what happened instead is cellinia found herself enthralled. her eyes on a girl that should have known better than to flirt with her as they lie to themselves, this isn't love. love was the cruelest illusion of them all in the way that it grips at the throat of those involved and holds it. suffocating, demanding, and pushing in the knife further. they don't have a right to this. because why would love come for them and their misery? she's the worst, at telling someone how much they mean to her while those thorns grip harder and tighter around her neck. they didn't deserve it. not the tender illusion and how it grips them like mockery in how they must be being pitied for their lives. their existence, their weaknesses, the way that something like this demands what remains of their fractured souls. hearts torn to pieces, bodies wishing for that feeling again to not go away.
light it all on fire, burn it to pieces. touch down to the very core as they turn what would have been a day of their usual dreary lives into something else. from sweat dripping down their bodies, to the feeling of someone being there and not leaving them so soon. they're starved, they're ravenous girls. ravenous for the way their lips taste, starved for those hands of theirs trailing along skin both unblemished and not while her arms strain against the tie. that ache won't ever go away. an ache to run her hands along her lover's body while they push further. don't they see it? no, they couldn't. it wouldn't register what this is between them even on their best day in that way their eyes would look at one another. how they speak so sweetly of ruin and greed. the desire to devour well until the night as music carries on in the background, meant to be part of their story.
cellinia recognizes it in that cheeky smile. that look in her eyes, she wants to be set on fire. she wants to melt down to the core while their bodies demand what they were due. what they were due being, that love they ignore. this isn't love. love doesn't carry the things they do. deeply held wounds and scars, thorns covering them beautifully in that eternal garden that never bloomed. but it wasn't enough, not how in her weakness (their weakness) they both found themselves here. they shouldn't be here. yet they are, they were without another thought in how cellinia makes those sounds for her goddess. in rich groans and gasps from that pretty voice of hers that mai so very much loves to be fed.
but this handsome beast isn't only a beast, she's still a gentleman in her own right. mannerly, proper, and knows how to treat a lady by education alone. except this is in her own way, this wasn't something bred into the wolf, and she gives it to this girl. pathetic of them. what kind of girls find themselves falling in love after telling themselves for so long that they'd never have that illusion which rests before them. out of reach, far from their cut apart limbs. their souls would never know what it means, their hearts never have while cellinia keeps those beautiful eyes on mai. on her goddess.)
An honor now? For me to have you here with me tonight? Then I'll have to play at being a good host.
(an honor, is what cellinia calls it. but really, it's them shattering in their love starved ways. the moment she showed this girl that affection, it sealed their fate. how she feels the words die on her tongue, the sight of her beautiful little red riding hood and goddess making her way downward does enough to make cellinia stop talking. the way those lips feel on her skin, biting in places that mai hadn't marked yet. running her tongue along the vicious scars left on her body. those devoted eyes, they lose themselves in how she heaves out sighs and look upon her lover like she's the bigger work of art in comparison. she's not able to help herself, the tremble of her breath and how she moans from her teeth in her hip, her thighs. no, this girl is something special to the beast. the beast shows it in her denial. because she can lie to herself so good, but she can't lie to the world however she may try in her own way. she was feeling it again, that warmth and how her heart pounds.
this isn't love, but she moans for her at the sensation of her tongue lapping up that wet heat. like a drink meant for her lover alone in its well and where it comes from in her body as succor. she offers it all. that sweet taste from the dripping need, the heat of her body and wanting her to lose herself all the same. because the wolf wishes to watch her goddess lose herself. for them both to lose themselves as time passes by into whenever they might fall into slumber. since to them, it didn't matter if they didn't show to work, to school. none of it mattered.
all that mattered was them and their bodies, this love they deny exists between them in feverish heat. in haggard breathing and sighs when cellinia's hips do quiver again. ah, that urge to touch her again grows. but she can't. she couldn't misbehave after promising she wouldn't, the tie takes care of that for them both. so maybe it's best she shows it another way.
in the way she finds herself heatedly murmuring:)
Così perfetto....the way that you sound and look at me.
[There she goes again-- calling it an honor to have her company, making her feel ever so treasured. Another facet of this lovely illusion-- that anyone would want to spend more time around Mai than necessary, her friends aside. But even those girls have to navigate her moods, and wonder if 'today's Mai' will be operating with a short fuse, mired in some manner of troubling family politics that leave her frustrated with the entire world and unable to do anything about it. Some days, she would make it everyone's problem, letting her sharp tongue cut into any good-natured interactions. And her less than stellar personality would remind others that she's a Zen'in, better than them all by default, even though she would always be aware of her painfully low position at the end of the day. Who would truly consider it a privilege to have her, when she's worth so little and makes just as little an effort to endear herself to others as compensation for it?
If Cellinia had any idea about the manner of guest she was entertaining, would she still feel so honored? She's but had a taste of Mai's acerbic bite, and though she seemed to take it in stride thus far, what's to say that another meeting wouldn't sour her against the more treacherous shadows chomping at the bit to lash out against anyone who gets too close? Because there isn't a good heart beneath that lovely skin, dear wolf. There isn't a shred of pleasant company in this girl's character. She's merely a love-starved disappointment that is running away from today's self-loathing, hiding under a beast's pelt until it realizes its folly and decides that not even a rotten heart would suffice for its meal. It makes her bristle at the mere thought, of what would possibly be the breaking point for a woman as dangerous in her appearance as Cellinia. Ah, but what a pyrrhic victory it would be, then-- to have broken a beast without using up a lick of her energy, but then losing her forever, all the same.
Oh-- how she loathes these thoughts. There's always something that works its way into her head when she feels the most confident in her endeavors. Mai would be better off acting as if a future meeting would never occur between them, no matter how badly she might wish for it after tonight. No matter how badly she already wishes for it, even now, her greed and loneliness getting the better of her so soon. So, despite knowing better, she'll sink further into this illusion of theirs, pretending that they have all the time in the world, and pretending that she can actually believe in Cellinia's words-- that it truly is an honor to enjoy one another so lovingly.]
A good host, hm?
[There's mirth in the way she echoes Cellinia's declaration, and Mai's hands squeeze affectionately at her hips while she mulls over this assurance. How much better could Cellinia be for her? She has already given her so much-- funny, if what seems like generosity to Mai is, in fact, nothing to her gallant wolf. Though, if that is so, then it wouldn't hurt to take a little bit more, would it?
Besides, a 'good host' would offer stiff platitudes, ask about her family, pretend to show interest in her life over a cup of tea and the customary snacks. If they were really committed to the bit, they'd even smile at Mai, a smile that would never reach their eyes. These customs-- these human customs-- were such a joke. Merely a show of whatever manners were hammered into them by families who prided their image and respectability above any honest feelings.
Cellinia doesn't need to be a good host, not to Mai. All she needs to do is adore her for tonight, watch her with those passionate eyes, and help her forget the world she's escaping from.]
Well-- you'll lose points for interrupting my shower.
[And she twists the story again to suit her cheeky agenda. Mai knows perfectly well that she was every bit as responsible for why her shower was reduced to a mere rinsing off-- and that's a rather generous assessment. The moment she knew she wanted Cellinia with her there was the moment she knew that they'd get all the more filthy, in one way or another. She can't resist teasing her, nearly convinced that Cellinia might even enjoy it by now.]
But, I think I'll be happier once I'm fed.
[She can be easy to please, when it suits her! After all, it's frustrating to do anything of importance on an empty stomach. And this particular hunger runs pretty deep, having begun not long after they first allowed their hands to roam over one another's bodies in the exuberance of a new encounter. She would never admit it, but Mai felt a small pang of bashfulness after having given Cellinia such a display when the wolf had played the ravenous beast and enjoyed Mai's taste upon her tongue. The scales became imbalanced, and Mai just wasn't as thoroughly satisfied with claiming her lover through touch alone, despite how beautifully Cellinia groaned and sighed for her throughout.
This is better, far better, finally being able to savor her essence for herself. And this time, little red riding hood becomes the one who makes a meal of the big bad wolf. A rare wolf, in fact-- one who suggests being bound, one who promises to behave, to be oh so good for such a weak little captor. And Mai loves it, she affirms to herself while drinking her lover up in slow licks and gentle suckles. She loves how nothing needs to make sense here, in Cellinia's bed. The rest of the world can heed the rules they construct themselves (and Mai can lament any other day that she will forever fall short in such a rigid world), but she and her wolf can defy what the silly little fairy tales caution against. A wolf and a girl unraveling their worlds and discovering love tangled in the loosened thread-- it didn't need to make sense to a single soul outside of these two.
Mai hums in amusement at Cellinia slipping into her mother tongue again. She can only guess that her lover is rather pleased with Mai, right now, and is all too glad to keep her hazel eyes trained upon Cellinia's delicious expressions as she works her eagerly with her mouth. Once she's found her rhythm, her lips suckling at the sensitive places that Cellinia seems to enjoy most, she holds that perfect body beneath her closely-- one hand at her lover's thigh, and her other forearm firm across her lower abdomen, keeping her hips as still as she can manage to. Of course, Mai isn't dumb enough to think that she's all that strong, and that Cellinia couldn't overpower her whenever she wishes. Dangerous, she has to remind herself that this is a dangerous wolf that she has the strange luck of getting to pleasure like this. But while her fingers trace those scars idly as she feasts, she can't help but feel herself growing nearly intoxicated by how wonderful Cellinia tastes. And she's drunk on the determination, as well, to deliver an ecstasy that she might even want to come back for.]
(rotten hearts is only a norm, from where she comes from. mai wasn't the worst of what cellinia has seen, has dealt with. she's come from a place that has terrible people too willing to hurt others if it means they get what they were wanting. it didn't matter to them who got hurt, that was just more corpses added to the pile and washed down by dirty rain. they would take as they pleased, destroy those beautifully innocent souls that could have grown into something more. the same way that they both were. this world didn't care, neither did those who lived in it as they played about ignorance. telling themselves that it wasn't their problems while ignoring what would be some poor souls on the street, they were only bystanders as they claim to be unable to do anything. what good was desiring help from those who would kill them in their own way, by leaving them alone to face their demons alone when they needed them most?
so what if mai played at being a beast herself, so what if she were a love starved girl who in her loneliness had chosen a wolf that speaks so sweetly to her? she has nothing herself that says she's that good of a person. cellinia can say this clearly. she never claimed to be, all that she is happened to be someone worse than what one could imagine. had it been anyone else, they would have felt pity. but she isn't some poor girl who had been well liked by many, no longer these days she was. cellinia saw no reason to hide it, the only thing she never once showed was how she once was in that violence. what she gives mai is rain, a tempest. the rain falling into her parched desert as it tries to grow a garden of its own to go with their thorns entangling them.
since it didn't matter. for them they are ruined, ruined and ripped apart while cellinia speaks of playing at host. they both know she wouldn't be a good host. not in a normal sense, what she gives her lover is something that someone who should be a good host shouldn't be doing. what use was manners when they gave little care for them at the start? they skipped over all the steps for this being a normal meeting. in passion, they surrendered. heat of the moment, the way their hearts pounding as sensual and slow music played. even now it does, with cellinia dimly remembering her stereo is still playing onward. because it did feel that way, it gnaws so much at her that she can feel this way. that someone comes close to her heart while they do something so filthy their families would have been enraged.)
I won't deny that....I'm not much for hosting, am I? Especially whenever my company causes me to miss touching her so badly that my hands have a mind of their own.
(this isn't how a human would play at host, this is how a beast would while ignoring propriety and the standard customs of humanity. she doesn't pay it any heed. what she does is....she looks upon this girl with those eyes she loves to see. that she never once looks away from her, in pleasure and passion she looks so beautiful now, doesn't she? this is all for you, little red riding hood. all for you, pretty goddess. she doesn't give such a sight to any poor souls who find their way into her bed somehow.
not that any has, not until now where she gazes at her. eyes lit on fire, the shine to them only making them standout more in that reverence and devotion. worship of her, what could even and has bloomed into love without them knowing. without them thinking about it, since they tell themselves often they do not need that beautiful thing. that pure and innocently sweet feeling that they had ripped away from their hands. love was not for them.
interrupting her shower, please. they both know had she not done that, cellinia would have done it anywhere else in this apartment. she might have even wound up touching her thoroughly against her bathroom sink had cellinia not shown restraint, she'd worship her anywhere at any given time. because nothing would stop her from it, only the word of little red riding hood would have. that's the more important thing to this wolf, if nothing is said then she'd touch her however much this pretty goddess desires to be.)
Then I shouldn't keep you from eating your fill....
(she breathes out the words slowly, no, they both know cellinia does love it. she loses the way mai teases and pushes. like nothing could stop her from having what she wants at this moment. this world is at her fingertips. light her on fire, why don't you, goddess? look at her. she's all yours. even without being broken to her whims, she's yours. she didn't need to be in how she shows that devotion in those beautiful eyes.
this is what they both were falling apart into. they didn't need anything more, what they need is in front of them. they need the touch of their hands, the sound of one another's voice sighing out so heavenly. so beautifully, this is what love is. this is what it does to them. they deny it as it blooms in their agony while ignoring the sweet fairytales that were often told.
who says that the big bad wolf can't whisk away little red riding hood into being her own? who said that while she cries out softly for her, the sound of her voice in the air while those searing eyes watch her lover. her name on her lips, the world could burn, and they'd not ever care while they're here in this bed. alone. nothing had to make any sense for them aside from knowing that they want more. that their hearts desire more against their arguing that this is not love. they aren't in love.
she is pleased, pleased in how she keeps still for mai. she doesn't move her hips when mai holds them down, whenever she finds her rhythm. she won't thrash or react. no, she wouldn't overpower her lover. not like this while she sighs out those sweet notes, while she breathes harshly and her arms strain against the fabric again in how much she wishes she can touch her again. this is agony. she wants to touch her, she wants to feel her body against her battle worn hands. she longs for it, cellinia even craves it so much. the brush of mai's fingers along the scars is another thing she loves, the tender care placed into tracing them like she wants to commit to memory this body of hers more.
this body that mai calls perfect, a work of art for her and the canvas that she likes to touch. to even decorate in teeth, bruises from her lips, and kisses. her tongue, against cellinia's skin and most sensitive places. cellinia for her part doesn't take her gaze off mai, because she wants to watch her. to remember and commit this girl to memory. little red riding hood, her pretty goddess, she'd keep coming back for her even without them sinning in such a way.)
[With every drop of this splendid tempest fed to her lips, Mai feels the desert of her heart begin to come to life again. Curious roots bringing forth even more curious blooms. It's as if they've been dormant all these years, waiting for a proper storm to flood this parched earth, to feed it something borne of heaven itself. A garden like this should never flourish in such a harsh terrain, but is there not something brilliant about these anomaly? That such a feeling that the two of them would both refuse was a heaven-sent poison all along, retilling this miserable desert with its far-reaching roots, until the earth was perfect for their rebirth?
Because Mai feels so brilliantly alive, in this moment. Whatever this is that's ruining her, whatever is ripping her apart-- this feeling she dares not name, for merely uttering that name would be its own sin-- is shredding that shell she had plastered up around herself. And she hates that she loves it, she would even curse this beautiful rain that dissolves her loneliness. Yet she doesn't, and she won't, not while she shamelessly drinks, parting her lips for it until it drowns her. Pathetic girl, Mai Zen'in is, that she would even wish to drown in it and never reemerge.
Cellinia's cute little admission, that her skills as a host leaves something to be desired, has Mai laughing again. The sounds of amusement are muffled by her mouth's current task, vibrating against her lover's skin until she pulls back enough to lap up the taste of Cellinia upon her own lips. She smirks up at her, while her fingers dig softly into the flesh of her thigh.]
Mm-- so, it's my fault?
[She playfully asks between the kisses she leaves at Cellinia's dripping heat, her voice low and a tad breathless. Mai doesn't mind shouldering this blame, this obvious conclusion that she is far from a proper guest, herself.]
I'm the reason why my host is having such a hard time right now, hmm?
[Let Cellinia remain the one with better manners, here, between the two of them. It looks better on her, far more sincere than it could ever look were Mai to don such a mantle. No, this girl prefers to show her precious wolf her own brand of sincerity, in the greedy manner with which her eyes devour the passion, the mounting pleasure so exquisitely written across Cellinia's face. Even if she doesn't know that this woman's bed has mostly been bereft of partners to warm it like this, Mai doesn't even care to let any familiar jealousy steal away her own satisfaction. She wants to be the only one to have you like this, pretty wolf. To see you like this, struggling in your obedience and melting so perfectly against her tongue while ecstasy makes its home in those handsome features. All of it belongs to Mai, all of it is crafted by her touch and her pride will never let another person claim such a victory from what she has decided belongs to her.
Even though Cellinia keeps her hips mostly still in cooperation with her determined goddess' hold, Mai can still feel the delightful quivering from the strain at keeping herself well-behaved for her. Poor thing, trying so hard not to struggle too much-- but her voice and her wolfish eyes betray her with every passing second, you see. When Cellinia gazes upon her-- and she stays true to her word, always keeping those fiery eyes upon Mai-- that look says everything that words would fail to convey. All the better, really, for her mouth is too busy spilling the most delicious cries, ragged breaths, and sweet sighs, with Mai's name peppered in every now and again. The slow music playing from the stereo is barely louder than the sounds of pleasure in the air, and it's wonderful. It's perfect, it's all the devotion she could ever ask for, and Mai yearns to deplete Cellinia of every last drop before she's finished with her.
But would she ever want to be finished with her, though? Might this someday become a never-ending cycle of fire and rain, setting them alight in this wanton passion before soothing these searing scars with a downpour that cools their hearts, leaving only devotion behind? Devotion, and this feeling that so agonizingly blooms between them from the ashes of what they're burning away. If it is indeed love, then it's corrupted, damned by hellfire. Drowning beneath heaven's tempest would be an act of mercy upon them.]
Right-- I'm still having my fun, here, and it'd be mean of you to stop me now...
[After sinking her teeth into the tender flesh of Cellinia's inner thigh, Mai resumes her more involved enjoyment of her lover's heady taste, working her tongue carefully past her slick folds for a deeper flavor. She hums favorably once she gets what she's exploring for, and lets the hand upon Cellinia's scars slide its way up her ribs, almost comforting in its touch. This wolf had been so sweet to Mai when it was her turn, and it's all she can think of while she returns the favor. Could she be so sweet, herself? Does she have it in her to treat a lover like they're her everything, the way Cellinia had? For a second, Mai breaks their eye contact and lowers her gaze, mildly vexed. Maybe her heart is too rotted for it-- another failure she'll have to contend with, another time. But if her wolf means what she says, if she would truly wish to belong to Mai-- and wish for Mai to belong to her-- then Mai would learn. She would try, she would give whatever was necessary to try to embody a lover worthy of this feeling she reluctant accepts that she can't escape from, now.
But while this feeling is certain, the future isn't, and Mai yanks herself out of dwelling too much upon a promise she doesn't know she'd even get the chance to make, let alone keep. Her eyes meet Cellinia's once more, and Mai draws away just enough to speak, a familiar smug look swiftly replacing whatever disquiet had dared to make itself known upon her face.]
You're being so good, though, Cellinia... Keep being this good for me, and I'll let you touch me to your little heart's content.
[She misses those rough hands, too, you know. But agonizing her darling wolf only means that she'll get to feel them plenty once Mai frees her from the fabric looped around her wrists. If the only thing after that which might stop Cellinia is Mai's very word, then she'll not breathe a single utterance, and let her lover have her way as much as she pleases.]
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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?
no subject
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.)
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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... ]
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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.)
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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.]
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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.)
no subject
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... ]
no subject
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.)
no subject
Date: 2025-03-29 09:14 pm (UTC)It pleases Mai, electrifies her already, whenever she sees Cellinia's arms tense and strain a bit against the fabric keeping her in place. Sure, she may not be a thrashing beast, chained and tethered in its cage, waiting to be loosened upon its tormentor-- but it's cute to see her struggling in her own way. The dripping greed that Mai so shamelessly wears sees itself mirrored more and more in Cellinia's expression with every careful touch fed to her. Her furrowed brow, her fluttering lashes, and the way her lips tremble before she surrenders another needy whine to Mai-- she wants more. They both do, don't they? They want to break, they want it all to come crashing down for each other. Everything, shattering completely until the fragments of themselves are so intermingled that, when they build themselves back up again, it will be inevitable that they'll wear the other upon their skin.
Oh, how close Cellinia already is to her breaking point. Mai can tell, from the way her hips are shaking slightly as they refrain from grinding against Mai's fingers, and the way the hands above her head ball into fists, digging her nails into her calloused palms. What a sight, all of it-- especially the pleasure written so wantonly across her lover's face as she gasps and sighs out Mai's name, biting back the obvious pleas for more, more of everything that she's being so generously gifted right now. There's not a trace of that empty-eyed girl from that old photo, and Mai feels alight with the unbridled pride of bringing Cellinia to life again, fully. Yes, she really is a goddess, now, isn't she? There's nothing her touch can't revive, nothing she can't pull from the ether and make manifest. This talentless girl is truly realizing the depths of her gift, in ways she never could have fathomed...
The absolutely lovely praise that Cellinia professes over Mai's kisses make the girl's chest tighten with a powerful fondness. For a moment, she's nearly speechless at how romantic she sounds, and when Cellinia closes the gap between them to claim her kisses, Mai feels as if her her breath is being stolen from her lungs. Why, why is it that, whenever they kiss anew, it feels so utterly different? It feels like a promise, it feels like a vow, it feels like-- No, she won't say it. Because it's not, it's not love.
And when she draws back, untangling their tongues and separating their lips so that she might kiss Cellinia upon her cheek, her eyes are far more gentle, and almost loving when she answers.]
Aw, now you're almost making me feel a little bad for keeping them from you.
[They're both so hopeless, whether or not they realize it yet. But the more that they trade these affections, the more that they find the broken edges of their souls finding their match in the other's-- the more that this hopelessness seems insignificant against the adoration unifying them like this.]
But that's fine, isn't it? Because you know that I'll still be giving you plenty of kisses...
[Elsewhere, of course, but Cellinia is smart enough to catch her drift. Mai's patience is wearing thin, and as such, the kisses she has left to give right now are nearing their end. She peppers the remainders across her face, across her eyelids, the corner of her mouth, and her lips once more-- the last of these kisses. Her chest is partially pressed against Cellinia's, their heartbeats mingling in their racing rhythm. They're so close, now, so close to getting what they both want... ]
And when I'm done with that... maybe you'll beg me to let you be greedy, again?
[At that suggestion, a sly smile spreads across her face. Yes, she'd love it oh so dearly if, when she was done feasting upon her lover, Mai would hear Cellinia pleading for even just one kiss, one that would carry the heady taste of this precious wolf. A single kiss that would, of course, become countless more thanks to their shared greediness. Only time will tell if she would finally release her lover from her bound position, but if Cellinia is as good for her as she vowed to be, then Mai might allow herself to be convinced.
This next act of their ruinous adventure is certainly something to look forward to.]
no subject
Date: 2025-03-29 11:32 pm (UTC)yet they're here, they're here without that weight on them. this isn't love. this isn't love, this isn't. they can't be in love, that's not meant for them. they can't be as cellinia breathes out shaky breaths, as mai wants to ruin her into being only hers. or as cellinia, truly, wants to haunt this girl and ruin her in kind from this garden of thorns that would bloom. their hands scarred and unmarred holding what little they could grasp through the window, their bodies covered both physical and figurative in wounds. those scars are plentiful. they could have destroyed themselves as much as others without a second thought, they could have faded away into nothing while the world would have never known.
but they didn't, they want to crash a different way in its poison. it's too late for them. she kisses this girl like she's all that she has, the sweet desperation of wanting to melt down into one with her. that sweet ache of wanting release into something more while cellinia reminds herself again: this isn't love. this can't be. this won't be, but what else could it be? lustful encounters don't have two broken girls making promises and vows the way they are. the way they speak to one another like their jagged souls and edges couldn't cut the way that it does any other girl. any other person, even. they don't speak with their prickling thorns threatening to take the poor person that tries. bloodstained and clean hands both reach through the gaps, the snarling beast doesn't snap. it only against the sharper thorns and glass clings tightly to the offering of her. this isn't love.
they aren't in love, they shouldn't be while the wolf kisses this woman so deeply. never satisfied, always wanting. her lips a balm to those tormented thoughts on her mind at a constant while her arms strain from the urge to hold her. that desire to wrap her arms around her lover and roll over so gently unlike earlier for a time in more kisses. more of her lips given in unrestrained desire and those sweeter words that come out of her mouth too naturally when they're flirting. a sincerity in it while she pushes more, while her hands touch upon mai's body like it's a lifeline for her in everything. an anchor she didn't know she needed and hadn't thought about, won't think about even while she wants to touch her again. she's alive. she's so pretty when she's alive, when she's listening to how mai sounded breathless in their kiss. a breathless kiss, of tongues chasing tongues and mouths seeking mouths when her fingers clench again.
burying her nails back into her palms from the unspoken desire she has most in how much she misses touching mai. yet that's expected, isn't it? for girls who ignore the obvious, the love between them, that one of them would miss touching the other as much as the other hates to not have her hands on her. cellinia breathes in slowly when they part again. look at this beautiful wolf of hers in how she stares. something romantic, something that shouldn't be there as the words play about her mind again. they aren't in love. they couldn't. yet how does that explain the way they're speaking to each other, the way their gaze changed into something more than some people could never have from their anguished souls? this is love. this is love in all of its brutality, clinging to them while it has demands of its own. not that love they both didn't have.
this is a love that is not only returned, but a love that they'd never admit to this soon. not in this lifetime, either. hopeless. hopeless in everything, the adoration which binds them in a want for them to melt together. melt away, down, and into their hearts or what's left of their souls that was meant for both girls to have. to bare as theirs while keeping shielded what was left of their hearts. the kiss to her cheek and those words distract the wolf. she's focused, her thoughts fade as those lovely amber eyes are focused on mai's face alone.
she knows what she means, she aches there more at the thought. the dripping wet heat of need, that burning desire. she'd know what mai means with or without them talking about it after she made it clear. that her goddess wants her wolf, that she wants her all to herself and all alone in the gaze of admiration and worship that this lonesome beast gives her. because she wants her too.
she wants to be greedy, she wants to feast on her and everything while making her forget the world exists. they didn't need to think about it and the cruelties of it, they only needed to think of one another. cellinia sighs for her, the kisses easing that rush of want in how she wants to break free from her restraints to touch her goddess. the last one, she moans softly into it from how they're near pressed tightly against one another. mai was driving her madder, more into her patience breaking into pieces from that molten need. their hearts are pounding, a rhythm and a dance of their own they follow alone.)
Maybe I might devour you, too, however much you let me have....do you want that, Mai?
(heated words, heated promises. exchanges that would have made most turn their heads at their whispers, the exchange of two broken souls. not allowed to mend, not allowed to heal, not until now with more reminders to herself. that this isn't love, that her words couldn't be something akin to sweet romance. they are, unfortunately for cellinia, like poetry. in the promise and vow of them while their hearts pound together in anticipation.
she wants too much, in how her lips are greedy and underneath her is going to always be that ravenous beast. she'll devour her goddess down to the last drop while being ruined by her in kind.)
Because I might not let you sleep tonight....
no subject
Date: 2025-03-31 04:34 am (UTC)Oh, those vows ought to never have been exchanged, not when such words of devotion are driving them positively mad with the desire to see if they could actually become the truth for them. Perhaps later, much later, when Mai finds herself back in the haze of her miserable life, she might place the blame squarely on Cellinia for this beautiful illusion. She could blame this honey-tongued wolf who promised her pleasure and instead pulled her into her storm of worship, revering her amidst the tempest, making her a beacon worthy of a feeling that she doesn't recognize. Cellinia has stolen her away from her comfortable place in the shadows cast by the light of the sun-- a sun that Mai had once basked in, chased and adored with every fiber of her being-- and dares to anchor her in the secrecy of the night, bathed in moonlight once she's well-nourished by the rainfall.
Yet right now, Mai finds herself parched, and burning with an urge to satiate her thirst fully this time. Despite drinking plenty of Cellinia's delicious groans and gasps while touching and kissing her, Mai finds herself huffing softly in her impatience, not wanting her fingers to solely enjoy what rightfully belongs to her lips. Yet her little warpath towards devastation is compromised even further when she catches the rapt adoration in the way that Cellinia stares up at her. How terrible, and how marvelous-- beholding her with those eyes, as if Mai is the only thing in this world that has any significance. Why? Why does this stranger, this wolf give her what everyone else has denied her? Why does she want more of it, every bit that Cellinia has to give her, even if it comes at the price of letting her in more deeply past her thorny exterior? Now that's frustrating, that Mai feels more at ease with entertaining the idea of taking her lover with a bit more tenderness, next... ]
Fine by me. I don't sleep over on the first date, anyway.
[Cheeky girl, twisting the words around to suit her best. Her eyes say it all, though, when she looks down at Cellinia-- Mai does want it. She wants to set her on fire with the passion of her touch, and she wants Cellinia to ignite her just the same. And her darling wolf can have her, almost all of her. Almost. There's just one part she dares not give. While everything else turns to cinders in this long night, Mai will cling to her heart, and blind herself willfully to the hooks that dig deep, borne of that loving look she glimpses in Cellinia's eyes.]
So, you can go ahead and do your worst, Cellinia. If you still have it in you after this.
[She just can't help herself, her mouth is just so accustomed to causing mischief. And it has no intention of stopping, of course, though the kind of havoc is seeks to wreak will involve a lot less affectionate backtalk from Mai. Briefly, she thinks it over, how dutiful and considerate Cellinia has been with her earlier. Would she have it in her to do the same? Such a thoughtfulness was foreign to Mai up until then, and yet it left such a deep impression on her that she almost feels the compulsion to prove that she isn't some savage when it comes to these intimacies. She's still a well-bred lady, despite all of her unladylike choices today, and if a handsome beast can elucidate her on something akin to lovemaking, then Mai would be remiss show that she wasn't at least an observant learner. It's one of her more positive traits, despite how little she actually acts upon it.
There's a bit more hurry, now, as she kisses her way down Cellinia's body. She doesn't stop much to leave a great deal more marks, just a handful of quick nips about her stomach in between lapping at the twisted skin of her scars along the way. With every inch closer she draws closer to that beautiful heat of Cellinia's, begging to be tasted, Mai feels her heart hammer even more vigorously against her ribs, her breaths leaving more raggedly from her lips. Could it be that she's anxious to prove something to her lover? And what might this something be-- her worth, perhaps? A worthiness for those pretty, devoted eyes she can't seem to get out of her mind? If she weren't swept up in the desire-- the romance-- of it all, Mai would have called herself pathetic. But as she bites softly into the flesh of Cellinia's hip, nibbling along towards her thighs as her faintly trembling hands run up and down her legs, she shoves that criticism deep inside, right along where every other rational self-assessment resides within her. Right-- she isn't good, she isn't special, and she's as pathetic as they come. But she wants to lose herself between Cellinia's thighs for this moment, yearns to taste her thickly upon her lips and forget that every single thing she's done today has been a mistake. That losing herself to an illusion of love is the worst of them all.
Kissing her way up her inner thighs, wetting her lips with traces of her lover's essence, she vehemently tells herself that what she feels is a desire to triumph. And as she darts her tongue out tentatively to taste her from her source, she comes to the odd conclusion that perhaps the triumph ought to be against herself. Whatever sweetness she'll show Cellinia from this point onward doesn't mean anything, certainly not a love that she doesn't think could even exist between them, here.
She'll know it, she'll know by night's end, what exactly this is. She'll know if she is truly victorious come daybreak, when it's finally time to depart from this glimmering illusion and back to her lackluster reality.]
no subject
Date: 2025-03-31 05:39 am (UTC)but it didn't work out that way. what happened instead is cellinia found herself enthralled. her eyes on a girl that should have known better than to flirt with her as they lie to themselves, this isn't love. love was the cruelest illusion of them all in the way that it grips at the throat of those involved and holds it. suffocating, demanding, and pushing in the knife further. they don't have a right to this. because why would love come for them and their misery? she's the worst, at telling someone how much they mean to her while those thorns grip harder and tighter around her neck. they didn't deserve it. not the tender illusion and how it grips them like mockery in how they must be being pitied for their lives. their existence, their weaknesses, the way that something like this demands what remains of their fractured souls. hearts torn to pieces, bodies wishing for that feeling again to not go away.
light it all on fire, burn it to pieces. touch down to the very core as they turn what would have been a day of their usual dreary lives into something else. from sweat dripping down their bodies, to the feeling of someone being there and not leaving them so soon. they're starved, they're ravenous girls. ravenous for the way their lips taste, starved for those hands of theirs trailing along skin both unblemished and not while her arms strain against the tie. that ache won't ever go away. an ache to run her hands along her lover's body while they push further. don't they see it? no, they couldn't. it wouldn't register what this is between them even on their best day in that way their eyes would look at one another. how they speak so sweetly of ruin and greed. the desire to devour well until the night as music carries on in the background, meant to be part of their story.
cellinia recognizes it in that cheeky smile. that look in her eyes, she wants to be set on fire. she wants to melt down to the core while their bodies demand what they were due. what they were due being, that love they ignore. this isn't love. love doesn't carry the things they do. deeply held wounds and scars, thorns covering them beautifully in that eternal garden that never bloomed. but it wasn't enough, not how in her weakness (their weakness) they both found themselves here. they shouldn't be here. yet they are, they were without another thought in how cellinia makes those sounds for her goddess. in rich groans and gasps from that pretty voice of hers that mai so very much loves to be fed.
but this handsome beast isn't only a beast, she's still a gentleman in her own right. mannerly, proper, and knows how to treat a lady by education alone. except this is in her own way, this wasn't something bred into the wolf, and she gives it to this girl. pathetic of them. what kind of girls find themselves falling in love after telling themselves for so long that they'd never have that illusion which rests before them. out of reach, far from their cut apart limbs. their souls would never know what it means, their hearts never have while cellinia keeps those beautiful eyes on mai. on her goddess.)
An honor now? For me to have you here with me tonight? Then I'll have to play at being a good host.
(an honor, is what cellinia calls it. but really, it's them shattering in their love starved ways. the moment she showed this girl that affection, it sealed their fate. how she feels the words die on her tongue, the sight of her beautiful little red riding hood and goddess making her way downward does enough to make cellinia stop talking. the way those lips feel on her skin, biting in places that mai hadn't marked yet. running her tongue along the vicious scars left on her body. those devoted eyes, they lose themselves in how she heaves out sighs and look upon her lover like she's the bigger work of art in comparison. she's not able to help herself, the tremble of her breath and how she moans from her teeth in her hip, her thighs. no, this girl is something special to the beast. the beast shows it in her denial. because she can lie to herself so good, but she can't lie to the world however she may try in her own way. she was feeling it again, that warmth and how her heart pounds.
this isn't love, but she moans for her at the sensation of her tongue lapping up that wet heat. like a drink meant for her lover alone in its well and where it comes from in her body as succor. she offers it all. that sweet taste from the dripping need, the heat of her body and wanting her to lose herself all the same. because the wolf wishes to watch her goddess lose herself. for them both to lose themselves as time passes by into whenever they might fall into slumber. since to them, it didn't matter if they didn't show to work, to school. none of it mattered.
all that mattered was them and their bodies, this love they deny exists between them in feverish heat. in haggard breathing and sighs when cellinia's hips do quiver again. ah, that urge to touch her again grows. but she can't. she couldn't misbehave after promising she wouldn't, the tie takes care of that for them both. so maybe it's best she shows it another way.
in the way she finds herself heatedly murmuring:)
Così perfetto....the way that you sound and look at me.
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Date: 2025-04-01 04:30 am (UTC)If Cellinia had any idea about the manner of guest she was entertaining, would she still feel so honored? She's but had a taste of Mai's acerbic bite, and though she seemed to take it in stride thus far, what's to say that another meeting wouldn't sour her against the more treacherous shadows chomping at the bit to lash out against anyone who gets too close? Because there isn't a good heart beneath that lovely skin, dear wolf. There isn't a shred of pleasant company in this girl's character. She's merely a love-starved disappointment that is running away from today's self-loathing, hiding under a beast's pelt until it realizes its folly and decides that not even a rotten heart would suffice for its meal. It makes her bristle at the mere thought, of what would possibly be the breaking point for a woman as dangerous in her appearance as Cellinia. Ah, but what a pyrrhic victory it would be, then-- to have broken a beast without using up a lick of her energy, but then losing her forever, all the same.
Oh-- how she loathes these thoughts. There's always something that works its way into her head when she feels the most confident in her endeavors. Mai would be better off acting as if a future meeting would never occur between them, no matter how badly she might wish for it after tonight. No matter how badly she already wishes for it, even now, her greed and loneliness getting the better of her so soon. So, despite knowing better, she'll sink further into this illusion of theirs, pretending that they have all the time in the world, and pretending that she can actually believe in Cellinia's words-- that it truly is an honor to enjoy one another so lovingly.]
A good host, hm?
[There's mirth in the way she echoes Cellinia's declaration, and Mai's hands squeeze affectionately at her hips while she mulls over this assurance. How much better could Cellinia be for her? She has already given her so much-- funny, if what seems like generosity to Mai is, in fact, nothing to her gallant wolf. Though, if that is so, then it wouldn't hurt to take a little bit more, would it?
Besides, a 'good host' would offer stiff platitudes, ask about her family, pretend to show interest in her life over a cup of tea and the customary snacks. If they were really committed to the bit, they'd even smile at Mai, a smile that would never reach their eyes. These customs-- these human customs-- were such a joke. Merely a show of whatever manners were hammered into them by families who prided their image and respectability above any honest feelings.
Cellinia doesn't need to be a good host, not to Mai. All she needs to do is adore her for tonight, watch her with those passionate eyes, and help her forget the world she's escaping from.]
Well-- you'll lose points for interrupting my shower.
[And she twists the story again to suit her cheeky agenda. Mai knows perfectly well that she was every bit as responsible for why her shower was reduced to a mere rinsing off-- and that's a rather generous assessment. The moment she knew she wanted Cellinia with her there was the moment she knew that they'd get all the more filthy, in one way or another. She can't resist teasing her, nearly convinced that Cellinia might even enjoy it by now.]
But, I think I'll be happier once I'm fed.
[She can be easy to please, when it suits her! After all, it's frustrating to do anything of importance on an empty stomach. And this particular hunger runs pretty deep, having begun not long after they first allowed their hands to roam over one another's bodies in the exuberance of a new encounter. She would never admit it, but Mai felt a small pang of bashfulness after having given Cellinia such a display when the wolf had played the ravenous beast and enjoyed Mai's taste upon her tongue. The scales became imbalanced, and Mai just wasn't as thoroughly satisfied with claiming her lover through touch alone, despite how beautifully Cellinia groaned and sighed for her throughout.
This is better, far better, finally being able to savor her essence for herself. And this time, little red riding hood becomes the one who makes a meal of the big bad wolf. A rare wolf, in fact-- one who suggests being bound, one who promises to behave, to be oh so good for such a weak little captor. And Mai loves it, she affirms to herself while drinking her lover up in slow licks and gentle suckles. She loves how nothing needs to make sense here, in Cellinia's bed. The rest of the world can heed the rules they construct themselves (and Mai can lament any other day that she will forever fall short in such a rigid world), but she and her wolf can defy what the silly little fairy tales caution against. A wolf and a girl unraveling their worlds and discovering love tangled in the loosened thread-- it didn't need to make sense to a single soul outside of these two.
Mai hums in amusement at Cellinia slipping into her mother tongue again. She can only guess that her lover is rather pleased with Mai, right now, and is all too glad to keep her hazel eyes trained upon Cellinia's delicious expressions as she works her eagerly with her mouth. Once she's found her rhythm, her lips suckling at the sensitive places that Cellinia seems to enjoy most, she holds that perfect body beneath her closely-- one hand at her lover's thigh, and her other forearm firm across her lower abdomen, keeping her hips as still as she can manage to. Of course, Mai isn't dumb enough to think that she's all that strong, and that Cellinia couldn't overpower her whenever she wishes. Dangerous, she has to remind herself that this is a dangerous wolf that she has the strange luck of getting to pleasure like this. But while her fingers trace those scars idly as she feasts, she can't help but feel herself growing nearly intoxicated by how wonderful Cellinia tastes. And she's drunk on the determination, as well, to deliver an ecstasy that she might even want to come back for.]
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Date: 2025-04-01 08:05 am (UTC)so what if mai played at being a beast herself, so what if she were a love starved girl who in her loneliness had chosen a wolf that speaks so sweetly to her? she has nothing herself that says she's that good of a person. cellinia can say this clearly. she never claimed to be, all that she is happened to be someone worse than what one could imagine. had it been anyone else, they would have felt pity. but she isn't some poor girl who had been well liked by many, no longer these days she was. cellinia saw no reason to hide it, the only thing she never once showed was how she once was in that violence. what she gives mai is rain, a tempest. the rain falling into her parched desert as it tries to grow a garden of its own to go with their thorns entangling them.
since it didn't matter. for them they are ruined, ruined and ripped apart while cellinia speaks of playing at host. they both know she wouldn't be a good host. not in a normal sense, what she gives her lover is something that someone who should be a good host shouldn't be doing. what use was manners when they gave little care for them at the start? they skipped over all the steps for this being a normal meeting. in passion, they surrendered. heat of the moment, the way their hearts pounding as sensual and slow music played. even now it does, with cellinia dimly remembering her stereo is still playing onward. because it did feel that way, it gnaws so much at her that she can feel this way. that someone comes close to her heart while they do something so filthy their families would have been enraged.)
I won't deny that....I'm not much for hosting, am I? Especially whenever my company causes me to miss touching her so badly that my hands have a mind of their own.
(this isn't how a human would play at host, this is how a beast would while ignoring propriety and the standard customs of humanity. she doesn't pay it any heed. what she does is....she looks upon this girl with those eyes she loves to see. that she never once looks away from her, in pleasure and passion she looks so beautiful now, doesn't she? this is all for you, little red riding hood. all for you, pretty goddess. she doesn't give such a sight to any poor souls who find their way into her bed somehow.
not that any has, not until now where she gazes at her. eyes lit on fire, the shine to them only making them standout more in that reverence and devotion. worship of her, what could even and has bloomed into love without them knowing. without them thinking about it, since they tell themselves often they do not need that beautiful thing. that pure and innocently sweet feeling that they had ripped away from their hands. love was not for them.
interrupting her shower, please. they both know had she not done that, cellinia would have done it anywhere else in this apartment. she might have even wound up touching her thoroughly against her bathroom sink had cellinia not shown restraint, she'd worship her anywhere at any given time. because nothing would stop her from it, only the word of little red riding hood would have. that's the more important thing to this wolf, if nothing is said then she'd touch her however much this pretty goddess desires to be.)
Then I shouldn't keep you from eating your fill....
(she breathes out the words slowly, no, they both know cellinia does love it. she loses the way mai teases and pushes. like nothing could stop her from having what she wants at this moment. this world is at her fingertips. light her on fire, why don't you, goddess? look at her. she's all yours. even without being broken to her whims, she's yours. she didn't need to be in how she shows that devotion in those beautiful eyes.
this is what they both were falling apart into. they didn't need anything more, what they need is in front of them. they need the touch of their hands, the sound of one another's voice sighing out so heavenly. so beautifully, this is what love is. this is what it does to them. they deny it as it blooms in their agony while ignoring the sweet fairytales that were often told.
who says that the big bad wolf can't whisk away little red riding hood into being her own? who said that while she cries out softly for her, the sound of her voice in the air while those searing eyes watch her lover. her name on her lips, the world could burn, and they'd not ever care while they're here in this bed. alone. nothing had to make any sense for them aside from knowing that they want more. that their hearts desire more against their arguing that this is not love. they aren't in love.
she is pleased, pleased in how she keeps still for mai. she doesn't move her hips when mai holds them down, whenever she finds her rhythm. she won't thrash or react. no, she wouldn't overpower her lover. not like this while she sighs out those sweet notes, while she breathes harshly and her arms strain against the fabric again in how much she wishes she can touch her again. this is agony. she wants to touch her, she wants to feel her body against her battle worn hands. she longs for it, cellinia even craves it so much. the brush of mai's fingers along the scars is another thing she loves, the tender care placed into tracing them like she wants to commit to memory this body of hers more.
this body that mai calls perfect, a work of art for her and the canvas that she likes to touch. to even decorate in teeth, bruises from her lips, and kisses. her tongue, against cellinia's skin and most sensitive places. cellinia for her part doesn't take her gaze off mai, because she wants to watch her. to remember and commit this girl to memory. little red riding hood, her pretty goddess, she'd keep coming back for her even without them sinning in such a way.)
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Date: 2025-04-01 10:00 pm (UTC)Because Mai feels so brilliantly alive, in this moment. Whatever this is that's ruining her, whatever is ripping her apart-- this feeling she dares not name, for merely uttering that name would be its own sin-- is shredding that shell she had plastered up around herself. And she hates that she loves it, she would even curse this beautiful rain that dissolves her loneliness. Yet she doesn't, and she won't, not while she shamelessly drinks, parting her lips for it until it drowns her. Pathetic girl, Mai Zen'in is, that she would even wish to drown in it and never reemerge.
Cellinia's cute little admission, that her skills as a host leaves something to be desired, has Mai laughing again. The sounds of amusement are muffled by her mouth's current task, vibrating against her lover's skin until she pulls back enough to lap up the taste of Cellinia upon her own lips. She smirks up at her, while her fingers dig softly into the flesh of her thigh.]
Mm-- so, it's my fault?
[She playfully asks between the kisses she leaves at Cellinia's dripping heat, her voice low and a tad breathless. Mai doesn't mind shouldering this blame, this obvious conclusion that she is far from a proper guest, herself.]
I'm the reason why my host is having such a hard time right now, hmm?
[Let Cellinia remain the one with better manners, here, between the two of them. It looks better on her, far more sincere than it could ever look were Mai to don such a mantle. No, this girl prefers to show her precious wolf her own brand of sincerity, in the greedy manner with which her eyes devour the passion, the mounting pleasure so exquisitely written across Cellinia's face. Even if she doesn't know that this woman's bed has mostly been bereft of partners to warm it like this, Mai doesn't even care to let any familiar jealousy steal away her own satisfaction. She wants to be the only one to have you like this, pretty wolf. To see you like this, struggling in your obedience and melting so perfectly against her tongue while ecstasy makes its home in those handsome features. All of it belongs to Mai, all of it is crafted by her touch and her pride will never let another person claim such a victory from what she has decided belongs to her.
Even though Cellinia keeps her hips mostly still in cooperation with her determined goddess' hold, Mai can still feel the delightful quivering from the strain at keeping herself well-behaved for her. Poor thing, trying so hard not to struggle too much-- but her voice and her wolfish eyes betray her with every passing second, you see. When Cellinia gazes upon her-- and she stays true to her word, always keeping those fiery eyes upon Mai-- that look says everything that words would fail to convey. All the better, really, for her mouth is too busy spilling the most delicious cries, ragged breaths, and sweet sighs, with Mai's name peppered in every now and again. The slow music playing from the stereo is barely louder than the sounds of pleasure in the air, and it's wonderful. It's perfect, it's all the devotion she could ever ask for, and Mai yearns to deplete Cellinia of every last drop before she's finished with her.
But would she ever want to be finished with her, though? Might this someday become a never-ending cycle of fire and rain, setting them alight in this wanton passion before soothing these searing scars with a downpour that cools their hearts, leaving only devotion behind? Devotion, and this feeling that so agonizingly blooms between them from the ashes of what they're burning away. If it is indeed love, then it's corrupted, damned by hellfire. Drowning beneath heaven's tempest would be an act of mercy upon them.]
Right-- I'm still having my fun, here, and it'd be mean of you to stop me now...
[After sinking her teeth into the tender flesh of Cellinia's inner thigh, Mai resumes her more involved enjoyment of her lover's heady taste, working her tongue carefully past her slick folds for a deeper flavor. She hums favorably once she gets what she's exploring for, and lets the hand upon Cellinia's scars slide its way up her ribs, almost comforting in its touch. This wolf had been so sweet to Mai when it was her turn, and it's all she can think of while she returns the favor. Could she be so sweet, herself? Does she have it in her to treat a lover like they're her everything, the way Cellinia had? For a second, Mai breaks their eye contact and lowers her gaze, mildly vexed. Maybe her heart is too rotted for it-- another failure she'll have to contend with, another time. But if her wolf means what she says, if she would truly wish to belong to Mai-- and wish for Mai to belong to her-- then Mai would learn. She would try, she would give whatever was necessary to try to embody a lover worthy of this feeling she reluctant accepts that she can't escape from, now.
But while this feeling is certain, the future isn't, and Mai yanks herself out of dwelling too much upon a promise she doesn't know she'd even get the chance to make, let alone keep. Her eyes meet Cellinia's once more, and Mai draws away just enough to speak, a familiar smug look swiftly replacing whatever disquiet had dared to make itself known upon her face.]
You're being so good, though, Cellinia... Keep being this good for me, and I'll let you touch me to your little heart's content.
[She misses those rough hands, too, you know. But agonizing her darling wolf only means that she'll get to feel them plenty once Mai frees her from the fabric looped around her wrists. If the only thing after that which might stop Cellinia is Mai's very word, then she'll not breathe a single utterance, and let her lover have her way as much as she pleases.]
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