[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.]
(they may never name it, the feeling. as if they could. they both know they couldn't while in so deep in stubborn denial. isn't it enough of a sin that they could never have had this? no. what's a sin is the way they were unable to have so little. that's always a funny thought, the girl with the world once at her fingertips had found she had hardly anything that felt like it belonged to her. because before, they all could die at any time. having anything for long was only a burden placed upon a young girl who had the dreams of others riding on her shoulders. but cellinia did what she could. it didn't matter what happened now, not now where she brings down rain on a desert that had never been touched by anyone the way that the wolf has done to this greedy girl. they were expected to take what they were given, nothing more than that. a world had been cellinia's own for the taking where she would have ruled over men bowing their heads at the table.
yet she isn't that, not here, not ever. what she is now is this girl's lover. her wolf, that handsome beast she would never want to let slip out of her grasp. because what was better than having that missing piece? nothing. nothing felt better than holding such a thing tightly. how they crave to drown in this feeling while the storm engulfs them into the water that forms. filthy from blood, from their suffering, from everything they would have left behind in their fading away from the world. loneliness fades, here they find themselves born anew in how something blooms that neither girl would dare to talk about. giving this a label would only make them afraid, make them fearful. more cellinia than perhaps mai, which is ironic knowing the way she challenged her goddess.
pathetic is something they both are. cellinia more than pathetic, but she'd never admit it out loud. she couldn't bring herself to ever admit her horrific tendencies and how they could one day destroy her. her hands strain, that laugh....god she wants to hear more of her laughter. how it felt vibrating against her skin, how mai's hand grips on her thigh. isn't it beautiful? hearing a girl as torn apart as mai was being alive again.)
If I said I didn't enjoy it, that would be lying.
(this wolf is many things, many of them not so good. though it couldn't be helped, not the way that she stares at her lover and speaks to her. as if this quiet moment comes natural in passion and desire. in lust, in more than that. how she heaves out a shaky sigh to mai's lips against her aching need. by no means are they the best at this, the guest teases her wolf and host from a desire to see more. to have more of her and her body under her grasp.
that's fine, those manners had no place in the bedroom. not the way that they would be using them. anything that needed them was best left at the door; they would show their appreciation in other means. cellinia would, with showering this girl in many things that the wolf never knew she could have done. this is what love should be, to them. many others won't understand, who needed them to know that two scarred and hopelessly pathetic girls were falling hard for one another. crashing faster, too, than most could have ever seen them do.)
I wouldn't want to be mean. Even if I want to put my hands on you so badly, Mai. I want to feel your skin, you know....beneath my hands and how soft you felt.
(ah, it's hard. hard to hold still but not at the same time, she doesn't resist. not how she cries out for her lover, not how she's getting closer and closer to the peak from this sweet yet ruinous torture in those low yet pretty words she gives. maybe they could disappear, for however long they wished to. cellinia and her manners while giving mai the sight of a hungry wolf who only desired to have her. she wants to put her hands on her, she wants to feel her while she cries out herself. isn't this lovely agony the best for you, lover? how your wolf wants so much of you, that greed of hers goes deep. a possessive beast that would stop at nothing if it meant she can have her.
this fire, this hellfire that is burning them mixed into rain. it's a beautiful feeling, a sort of pain and sear that is impossible to ignore. because their bodies demand it. their hearts ache for it. this twisted lover covered in their searing scars, the tempest, and this act of pity and mercy for a pair of lonesome girls. love is theirs, how they show it would only be between one another. because the world could burn for all it's done to them in some ways. cellinia might at times feel that way, but despite that....she also would never want to stop living now that she's found her way slowly through life.
her cries are slightly louder, sharper. her eyes aren't leaving her goddesses face even when cellinia notices that way mai's expression shifts. she almost wants to pause when the other girl looks away, to ask her lover if she wished to say something. only for it to fade quickly whenever she pulls herself out of it. in between the way she moans for her, she isn't rotted. you silly girl, she would have touched you until you both only could dream of one another with or without the way the world had torn them apart. who needed to think about it, about what it's done to them when they have one another? as long as she's herself, cellinia didn't mind how mai might stumble along finding her way through everything.)
You drive me mad....in how much I want that.
(can't you see little red riding hood? this handsome wolf is dying without her hands on you. a desire to touch, a need to. she wants to feel her. she wants to drown in her, in everything while giving her pretty goddess everything. every last drop she wishes most for while cellinia keeps her awake as she mentioned. she would do that, she'd not even dare think about sleeping. as long as mai didn't wish to.
she won't ask about her thoughts earlier, perhaps another time. they didn't need to spoil the mood with their usual, their own brand of self-destruction and everything behind it which could be ignored for this warmth. this bloom of their gardens and vines mingling together love in one of the worst ways that anyone could have ever found it by human standards.)
[Ah, so her darling little wolf is quick to shrug off being labeled a liar, is she? Once more, her gallant honesty endears itself to Mai all the more. It would be far easier to lie and say whatever was necessary to get her kicks out of this petulant girl. Mai is all too accustomed to convenient falsehoods and bitter truths, herself comfortable with indulging in them whenever it suited her best. And she would have thought that a dangerous-looking she-wolf would feed them to her without a second thought, too, filling her up with honey-sweet lies so that devouring her would be all the more delectable. It would be so easy to lie-- so why don't you, Cellinia? Surely that romantic tongue of yours is familiar with such words. After all, you must have told one or two to earn such a body, beautifully riddled with these scars, no? Mai would prefer lies to love, if only out of the harsh familiarity of the former. And any other time, she would laugh at the sweetness of the latter and meet it with her own heartless cruelty, killing the roots before they could even dare to blossom. Yet in this moment, she wants to burrow herself within Cellinia's honesty, and wear her adoration as if it's a second skin.
Alas, there's not a lick of deception in her lover's amber eyes, nor in the impassioned cries she offers Mai in return for her diligent work. She wears her pleasure without shame, lets the sparks of love dance in her worshipping eyes while she loses herself more and more to the beautiful ruin Mai had promised her. Probably the most unacceptable honesty of all-- keeping looking at her, pretty wolf, but not like this. This girl's heart likely won't be able to take much more of it without letting that feeling sneak its way through the cracks.
Nevertheless, Mai relishes the way that Cellinia continues to get all the more desperate. Promising Mai that she wouldn't be mean, that all she wants is to simply touch her. How precious-- more honest words sighed so prettily from her lips. Oh, but is that the whole truth, Mai wonders? Because there's a beast beneath that handsome exterior, and would a beast be satisfied with only feeling her lover's skin? Especially after Mai has been teasing and tormenting her with her mouth in bites and kisses and licks-- would such a proud wolf admit defeat so readily, bite down her instincts, and content herself with mere caresses? It's enough to have Mai chuckling again. How romantic you are, Cellinia, and yet Mai is eager to see which side will triumph-- the sincere romantic, or the ravenous wolf?]
Hmph. That's good-- lose your patience just a little bit more for me, won't you?
[In a strange way, she's almost excited to see the way that feeling-- those beginnings of love-- can twist and contort itself as soon as it's in the midst of such carnal ruin. Would she recognize it still? Or would it be snuffed out in favor of the violent danger that one would anticipate when getting involved with a stunning she-wolf? Mai can practically taste the frustration of it all, and it's only heightened when Cellinia faults Mai with how feverish she's becoming at the promise of getting her hands upon her once more.]
Aw, I can tell. Maybe I like it, Cellinia, making you go mad for me...
[How splendid, the way that Cellinia surrenders herself just a little deeper to Mai, who holds her so securely in her arms. Good girl-- keeping so steady for her, even as her body tenses slightly from being brought closer, closer to the top. Slowly, Mai brings her wandering hand back down Cellinia's torso to hold her hips in place once more, her fingernails raking lightly along the way. Her hold tightens, now, becoming far more firm, even as she silently considers that she wouldn't mind too terribly if her lover wanted to enjoy struggling and squirming a bit as she enjoys these last few moments before coming undone against Mai's lips.]
Wonder what you'd say if that's what I wanted to see?
[Her soft musing is vague on purpose, and Mai doesn't bother elaborating on it before she gives Cellinia more and more of that burgeoning bliss she's draws nearer towards. Like before, she keeps her pace steady, though she suckles and laps at her lover with a greater intensity, and she hums pleasantly at this delightful meal she so thoroughly intends to enjoy until she's told that it's enough. Because she won't be satisfied with just bringing Cellinia to her peak-- her nerves tingle with the prospect of hearing her plead with Mai that she can't take any more. A perfect ruin, just like she promised.
So-- what does she mean by those vague words of hers, then? Perhaps it's more obvious than she assumes, a thinly veiled desire to see her lovely wolf go truly mad for her. Because wasn't that the whole point of this? To devastate her thoroughly? Sure, Mai had the fantasy of reducing her to a euphoric mess, unable to do anything but mumble her thanks for it and behold Mai with those reverent eyes. But what if this was her real prize? What if this was what she was after all along, a goal she would readily smother out of a fear of actually having to come face to face with a wild beast at its conclusion? She isn't brave-- far from it, in fact. Yet, she doesn't fear Cellinia, nor the beast that she is, so much as she fears the feeling compelling her to have this lover carved all the more deeply into her body-- no, her very soul.]
(lying was something she seldom did without good reason, but she held no wish to be seen as a liar. not in this kind of matters. her body and it's scars, the inking of it in dark monochrome, what has she seen? what has she gone through between it, the toned muscle, how those eyes of hers stared empty in photographs of her youngest and lowest point in her life? the way she bores holes in those that dare to look. some found it chilling, others found it to be something they pitied. because what girl would look so dead at such a young age? there must be something wrong with her, that was their choice and thoughts about her. that she wasn't normal. who needs to be with a feeling like this? the fire, everything that melts her body to pieces. pleasure, the sweet agony of it while she struggles against her bindings. how could she go back to living without her? she wants to be touched. she wants those hands on her, to feel her until she couldn't get mai out of her head from the intensity of the craving.
cellinia wants it so badly, to touch her. to do more than that while she drifts the line of ravenously mad and sincerity in her displays of affection. they didn't need to think about it, now the way that their eyes are alight in something mutual. not even how cellinia longs to touch her in a reverence that would shock more than those friends of hers. this is romance to a beast, to be driven mad for their lover in desire and needy. to not ever feel their hunger satisfied. to keep wanting, to stay demanding and hungering of someone that they crave. her hands struggle against their bindings from that urge, it's only growing more by the second as she's driven madder by this girl who flirts so readily with a wolf. wasn't this a challenge? no, the challenge had been already clear they both knew not what they were getting themselves into with how their hearts pound.
they fell in love pathetically. pathetic in the sense of it being so hard for them, they deny it, and they tell themselves the sprouts of warmth is meaningless. it isn't meaningless. it wants to sink its claws into them the way that it desires to rip them apart for the mistake of finding one another, they had no say in their destruction and the mutual binding of it. what good was their resolve to not fall in love and have this purity in their hands if they were so easily swayed? yet that's also the point, they'd also destroy themselves sooner than admit that about it. cellinia doesn't dare to put it to words. if she does, then it'd only truly ruin her in how sinful this feels to have it in her calloused hands.
cellinia hears those words, she finds it harder not to squirm a little in how good she feels. in how she reacts. mai's hands take hold of her hips, the raking of light lines while holding on so tightly to her body is driving this poor wolf into further insanity. she blames her for this madness, but cellinia welcomed it all the same. she welcomed it all with how those eyes never leave her lover. that sear and reverence. the reverence of a wildly handsome beast. it twists, it turns. neither side may never admit to their falling so fast, so soon, but that only mattered even less. they didn't need in the end to admit to it.
not to the truth, not to what they lie to themselves about while this handsome she-wolf cries out. her walls tightening, her body tensing, she's so close. the beauty of it a sight for her lover to see and have to herself. because not another soul has shared this bed of hers, this is all for mai. all for that greedy girl who wants to carve into every inch of a wolf's body and soul that desire to chase her. to pursue her if it's the last thing she ever did while cellinia breathes out more harsher notes, harsher sighs.)
Don't you....dare to not remember this sight, is what I'd say.
(don't forget it. the sight of those once dead and empty eyes that stare at her, how she cries out for her so reverent while her hips quiver in mai's grasp. how she stares with feelings that were inexplicable in the eyes of the wolf in need and madness. that wish is something of her own accord while mai picks up where she left off. her hands tense and so wishing they were freed from the grasp of that tie. how could she miss it so badly and so soon? does she truly think this girl to be her mate already? with or without that mark, she wants to touch her. she needs to touch her.
but it's not enough to think about it, not in how finally (good grief, finally) she reaches her climax. her body tense, struggling to not break from the grasp of her lover in how she writhes, how she squirms into her hands. what a beautiful sight, of this perfect body mai so very loves covered in light sweat and more coming undone for her. in those marks she left, in how her wolf feels so utterly ravenous in desire. she wants to touch this girl after all, but she wants to feast on her in kind while taking those kisses she missed dearly.
this time, she would give her more of her hands to make up for them being restrained. cellinia might even not stop kissing her until they're almost out of air. or perhaps until they almost find themselves dizzy and almost passing out from everything. from the feeling as they fall deeper and sink away into the rain, the desert as this garden blooms around them.
but she did as mai wished, those eyes....they never left her, not even in the peak of her pleasure.)
[Good, good-- go mad for her, Cellinia. Why deny that urge embedded into the very essence of your being? After all, it's what nature decrees, isn't it? That this pretty-eyed beast lose her mind after being toyed with by the very prey she'll sink her teeth into, in one manner or another? Forget that she offered herself up to be taken like this, giving Mai the reins without the danger of having those sharp nails tearing at her soft skin in the throes of ecstasy. You've emboldened this girl, silly little wolf, a bit too much, and made her brave despite the near impossible challenge of taming a beast. And Mai only feels all the more invincible with the taste of pleasure coating her tongue, the look of devotion overflowing from Cellinia's eyes and smothering her thoroughly.
Those bindings are working overtime, and it's a wonder that Mai's novice attempt at tying her lover up has lasted this long. Who knows if the crimson tie will even be considered usable after this? Though if it is, then Cellinia might wear it with a secret enjoyment, knowing what exactly it was used for before gracing her neck properly. And what would she tell herself, should she ever catch herself alone with her reflection, with the marks that Mai had left behind hidden and yet fading beneath her clothes? She would be confronted directly with the misguided feeling she has given herself to. One of the worst sins a beast could commit-- falling in love with her prey.
Mai's own existence is already mired in sin, so what's another to add to her crimes? At the very least, she could keep this a secret, an encounter whose only witness now is the moon slowly making its journey across the sky. Pretty soon, the two of them will be left in the dark of the night, further concealed in their secrecy. No one will know, they'll never be privy to the way Cellinia shudders and strains as she succumbs to pleasure under Mai's firm hold. They could only dream of witnessing the way she beholds the one responsible for unraveling her like this, with those eyes that teem with an intense devotion.
Oh, Cellinia. Don't worry-- there's no way I'm ever going to forget this.
Her hands grip Cellinia hard while she continues to work her through her climax, and Mai only releases her fully once she's satisfied and certain that her lover has had more than enough enjoyment, as well. More than that, though, Mai is wracked by a mischievous impatience to clamber back up to that lovely, flushed face and invite her to taste what a lovely mess she's made of her. So, after she sits up, daintily tidying her lips with the back of her hand, Mai smiles impishly at Cellinia as she crawls over to her. Her fingers brush the errant, damp strands of hair that still cling to her cheek, then cup her jaw, bringing her lips up for Mai to claim in an impassioned kiss.]
There-- isn't that nice?
[A second kiss, then a third, each one as deep and as hungry as the one that precedes it. She doesn't pay any mind how she makes a proper mess of them both with these kisses. Her precious wolf missed them, didn't she? How generous Mai is, for bestowing them upon her once more, as well as sharing what Cellinia has so sweetly given to her.]
Don't you taste so good, Cellinia?
[And Mai is plenty aware of how agonizingly desperate her wolf was to have her hands freed, too. While her lips are locked blissfully with Cellinia's, the hand she isn't bracing her weight upon fumbles with the knot securing the wolf's wrists to the bedframe. It takes her a tad longer than she expects, and she hums in a faint annoyance as her nails dig into the fabric, searching for a weak spot until she loosens one, herself. She's far too busy trading Cellinia's taste with her to demand thanks for her kindness-- her greed, really, that compels her to release those hands that she longs to have upon her once more-- but her eyes are dancing with a good-natured mocking that conveys her thoughts all the same.]
(it's a maddening urge, how she wants to act upon it and the deeper instinct to mark what the animalistic side of her mind decrees as being hers. instincts flare plenty when she gets this way and none of them are pretty in the vicious nature of them, demands are always going to be burrowed deep in her head. the only person to stir them is right before her, with an intense greed to claim more from this wolf that she desires to have all to herself. but they're both utterly pitiful creatures in their own ways all the same, cellinia has her own needs that are burning with an intensity to them. a lot of want, a lot of need. the tie likely would be fine, despite her struggling in how her pretty little wolf thrashed against it from wanting to touch mai. this body is that canvas her lover desires most, the work of art that she longs for and carves into with a touch so poisonously tender.
falling in love with one's prey is indeed the worst mistake a beast may ever make, there is no reason to do that. they are to ease, they are to feast upon their love without a word. she may never stop thinking about this girl, this goddess and pretty little red riding hood. her breathing is harsh while the wolf comes down, a temporary reprieve from mai getting those eyes in how she breathes. bleary-eyed and trying to knit together the pieces of her mind that are not together in this daze. her body is at ease, the tension faded until she feels skin brushing against skin.
her recovery, though it hadn't been long, shifts when those pretty eyes fall back on mai. the impish smile, the way her fingers brush against her cheek. they aren't done yet, are they? she didn't need reason, nor sanity, when cellinia feels the biting urge again of desire. not a fight against it, not a struggle, only the sight of her kissing this girl in hunger. a sweet moan (or is it a growl) at the taste on mai's lips and tongue once she cupped her jaw to bring her in closer. isn't the relief wonderful, mai? you must have been dying for her lips again, too. that way the wolf kisses her ravenous and deeply for each given.
her breathing is unsteady, heavy, and craving in that way her eyes shine darkly in the dim moonlight. it didn't need to be a dream, what they're doing. those sounds she makes must be like heaven for a girl who had so little. that she could get someone like this woman to cry out for her. cellinia doesn't say anything at first, but her actions speak more clearly. that she can't get enough of mai, with or without the taste of her arousal on her tongue. more. more as those lips show their hungry devotion, more as cellinia feels her wrists slowly being freed. the knot loosens and the wolf does the rest with her wrists coming free.
it didn't take much for her to roll them over so that mai was on her back, it also didn't take her long to respond to that good-natured mockery with the wolf's hands brushing along mai's skin. there's a sigh of relief into the kisses, it must have been painful. agonizing, truly, for her to go so long without touching this body that she worships as a devoted follower.)
I missed your lips too much....
(a tight press of their bodies comes together, her chest against mai's while cellinia's hands glide along her thighs. another kiss, another heavy sigh. pathetic and pretty wolf, giving this much of herself to a girl like mai. but that's fine. they both weren't in the best of states, not that anyone cared enough to pay attention to that. cellinia didn't need them to, she would have ignored their concerns, similarly to mai before her. because it would have felt fake to girls like them, who were ruined since the start of their lives.)
I can't get enough of it, your touch, your body, and your kiss.
(a breathless vow, a breathless kiss. those battle-worn and rough hands brush up along mai's hips next, a slow ascent as if memorizing this girl's body again. almost like she's reminding herself of how soft her lover feels, how much she longed to feel her again. isn't your wolf so lovely, mai? in how she shows you she wants you?)
[Ah, Mai has made Cellinia into quite the work of art, hasn't she? The canvas that she had promised to paint with her greedy affections is now filthy with love bites and impressions from her hands gripping tightly. One of the best parts might just be the deep marks left in Cellinia's wrists from the tie that had bound her. Against the monochrome of ink that covers her arms, the dark red hue of her struggle looks positively gorgeous. Now, her skin glistens more from sweat than from their ill-fated shower, and her expression is dazed in a way that almost feels uncharacteristically sweet. Mai not so secretly hopes that it won't be the last she'll see of this face, flushed with the bliss in her comedown.
The two lovers trade soft groans and needy sighs as they satiate their longing for more kisses after their little interlude. It's certainly mutual, this yearning to taste one another again, to look into each other's eyes as their tongues intertwine. Without a doubt, Mai missed it greatly, herself, but she's not as willing to declare as much and as openly as her romantic wolf is. Yet her own passion ought to speak for itself, evident in how her arms swiftly encircle Cellinia's neck once she switches their positions, a muffled moan of appreciation fed to her lover's lips while she shifts her body beneath her to maximize their contact.]
Mm, I know you did.
[And how she loves to hear Cellinia say it, in that lovely voice rendered so deliciously husky after whimpering and crying out for her not moments earlier. Her precious wolf's heart still beats rapidly, Mai can tell, the throbbing obvious against her own chest in the close pressing of their bodies together. How anguished Cellinia must have been, living without these kisses despite having the chance to enjoy Mai's lips against the more tender parts of her beautiful body. What a curious little beast you are, Cellinia-- but it only spurs Mai to crave you all the more deeply.]
What did you say you wanted to do...? Oh, right-- bathe my lips in your greediness?
[Grinning smugly, Mai repeats the impassioned words uttered by her lover before she was made to suffer beautifully under her tongue. Of course they've stayed with her this entire time-- not a single soul has ever breathed such reverent tenderness to her. And they certainly haven't sighed in such relief as soon as their hands are given the chance to caress her body once more. Wherever Cellinia maps with her rough fingers leaves Mai's nerves alight and tingling, and she hums pleasurably into their kisses. One of her hands leaves to do some roaming of its own, trailing down one of the wolf's strong arms, her pale fingers stark against the inky blooms marked and traversing her flesh.]
Poor thing... You're gonna be a mess when I have to leave you.
[Wicked girl, she is. Mai knows exactly what she's doing with these words, menacing them both with an end they know they'd have to face, eventually. Beneath her taunting is something far more desperate-- a cruel need to ensnare Cellinia all the more ruthlessly into her little web, making it such that she would rather chase Mai to the ends of the earth than face the emptiness of a single moment without her. Or perhaps Mai is merely poisoned so thoroughly, so pathetically that she wants to be held captive by this gallant wolf, trapped beneath those eyes that she is so irrevocably mesmerized by.]
(her wrists would ache, once everything is said and done. maybe they are now even, from the struggle against the beginners work mai did in tying together her bindings. she didn't mind it. not that they are, she didn't mind the way they were both agonized from their interlude. the way mai shifts against her body, immediately went to touching cellinia, it told her plenty. mai didn't need to say a word. all that mattered was the way they conveyed it, conveyed their feelings while also having a longing to not let this be their last meeting. cellinia suffered beautifully, the marks a stand-out against the monochrome ink of flowers and storms. she's hungry, she's full of greed, and full of yearning. being tied down, even if cellinia had suggested it? that was a bigger struggle in how she melts. the contact of their lips, their tongues twining and eyes unable to leave one another's faces. a hopelessness in how they try harder to not let themselves lose sight of the other for this feeling to not fade.
it's little surprise that cellinia can be a romantic in how she feeds her moans to her lover again. how breathless she must sound, sighing out those lovely sound's, the way her voice is husked. raw, passionate. her hands pause their mapping of mai's body and memorization of it again like it killed her to not touch this girl. how far are they both willing to go? isn't that the beautiful mystery? they'd never know, they wouldn't be able to answer that question themselves. cellinia couldn't if she ever dared to try, in how she was far too willing to touch her lover so boldly while whispering tender affections that not a soul has heard from the wolf before. that's the appeal. she wouldn't stop this. not how she has her heart pounding.)
You're not wrong, to both....
(that lovely husk to her voice remains, the rawness to it is another thing worth that effort. that struggle where they both had to resist their impatience. one focused it on the agony she gave her lover, the other by reminding herself that she promised to behave. her perfect canvas, a beautiful body belonging to mai's lips and hands. who needed to admit anything? she responds so readily, so easily. her body every bit something of a treasure meant for a goddess and little red riding hood that she's so reverent towards. it's torture. torture to have the thought about not having these lips against hers. to not touch her body like cellinia is now as worn fingers brush against mai's sides up along near her ribs then trail back down.
she is curious, isn't she? but even she craves mai deeply, it was hard for her not to crave her. to keep tempting her like this, you must be greedy, mai. though they both knew that since the start in how they're not caring to hide it. that suited cellinia fine, she even has a deeper craving for the other woman. a possessive streak does exist in this beautiful beast of hers, one that she might even see one day. how cellinia may even touch her and not care who sees her wrapping her arm around mai's waist to pull her in close to her.)
....or do you want to be kept by me?
(how serious that offer is, is a mystery in itself. with the way they talk, their flirtations sounded beyond something normal for two who only had just met. the words breathless, spoken during a brief parting of their lips while her wolf's hands make their way down to mai's thighs again. her fingers stroke slowly along the skin, a destination in mind for them clearly. she did say she missed touching her lover, that didn't only mean in how her hands mapped her body out again to commit it back to memory in her sweet agony.
wouldn't it be better for you, mai, to be kept by this pretty wolf in her den as they never find you again? or however she wills it, cellinia would respond. who knows. they're in deep, and it might never be the same in how she'd want to chase this girl to the ends of the earth as thought from their mutual loneliness. the empty feeling that comes at the idea of their parting.)
[Of course, Mai didn't think that she was wrong in her cheeky declaration, but it certainly does something to her to hear Cellinia agree so readily. Throughout their encounter thus far, she's come to appreciate this aspect of her new lover-- her straightforward nature, the marked lack of shame in making her wants known. Where others might've played coy, or brushed off her teasing and twisted it against her-- honestly, the kind of game Mai would have played, herself-- Cellinia favors conveying a bluntness that leaves no room for guessing as to where her mind is. None of those fluffy words that bear no substance, nor the saccharine platitudes that are as fragile as spun sugar. It almost feels as if the silly courting games that humans like to play are a hindrance when she's already certain of what she aims for.
When Cellinia poses her question to Mai, it's plenty obvious that the wolf has made up her own mind about it. How curious is she about Mai's answer, and how much can she already surmise what this response might be? Yet if Mai gives her reply, truly answers from that burgeoning feeling within her, it would be a pitiful admission that she is keen on falling even deeper into this strange union. She'd be the one surrendering, offering herself up to be bound, as well-- though instead with chains that are imperceptible to the eye and far more sturdy than that scrap of fabric formerly around Cellinia's wrists. So, she doesn't answer immediately. Not out of spite, but because unlike this romantic wolf of hers, Mai finds that honesty like this is often smothered by her very nature. After all, the wishes she seems to speak aloud are almost always shattered once the words leave her lips.
Better to keep such as answer to herself, far better, instead, to enjoy the pretty way that Cellinia unabashedly moans with satisfaction into their kisses, gorging herself on the feel of Mai's skin as her fingers trail up and down her sides. The sensation has Mai tensing and arching reflexively against her, though who's to say if it's from the tenderness of this touch, or simply a ticklishness that her lover inadvertently uncovers. Though neither of them admitted a thing, the sweet manner in which their bodies react to one another in these moments speak loudly enough. In a perfect world, it might indeed have been something she'd make Cellinia swear to her-- to keep her, always. But life has been far from kind to her, and Mai just can't snuff out the jaded part of her heart. Still, it wouldn't hurt to play along, would it...? Her fingertips trail slowly, up and down the tattooed blossoms that wrap around Cellinia's arm, her touch light on purpose. When their lips part for a moment, Mai turns her head slightly to drink in the sight. Menacing, in all of its dark beauty. And, of course, the exact same could be said about her handsome wolf.]
Mm... Who'd stop you?
[She'll indulge Cellinia in this little fantasy, of playing the captive in this wolf's den. These flirtations of theirs are rather warped, aren't they? There's nothing timid or reserved about the way they tease one another like this, dancing around the line between their eager imaginations and what they desire to become a reality for them. It amuses Mai to consider who would try to get in Cellinia's way if Mai were to meet her suggestion with a wholehearted agreement. She's not some hapless girl who would scamper off when confronted with how dismal Mai's personal life truly is. No, anyone would take a single look at Cellinia and see that there were few, if any, threats she wouldn't face down in the name of her goal. Maybe that's why she'll entertain this fantasy in a little more earnest, because of the possessive streak she can feel has more than enough weight behind it.]
Bet you'd do whatever it takes, once you're dead-set on getting your way.
[And yet, Mai's imagination can only stretch so far when she gets to this point. In fact, she almost doesn't want to bring herself to think about it, the real monsters in Cellinia's way, keeping her from sequestering Mai away from whoever thinks they own her, thinks that her miserable life would be better in their hands than in some dangerous looking wolf's. Right-- that same wolf's hands hold her more preciously than those of her own kin, and she trembles and sighs at how indulgent it is to simply feel those fingers slowly stroking along her thighs again.]
Too bad. [Ah, but their bodies fit together so perfectly, and their kisses taste like a remedy they have long been searching for.] It's too bad I can't keep you instead, hm?
(she's always been like this, her answers were blunt and to the point. straightforward. playing around was never something cellinia's done, she's rarely if ever been that type. maybe as a child she would have a little during lighthearted moments, but never again. no need. the courting games of humanity hardly stops her from giving these words, the displays of affection that could be expected of someone that's like an animal. a wolf is a wolf, they didn't need to shed their wild behavior for humanity completely in the way that cellinia could snap those jaws. earlier had been proof of that in the shower. a little too much can bring that lurking beast out of her, that lurking beast which is in her eyes from the way that she stares. she's got plenty of thoughts on her mind about what she wants. that's the frightening part of flirting with wolves. none of their flirtations is something a girl can consider as something they'd want in their lives.
why let humanity stop her? from the red marks around her wrists thanks to the fabric of that tie, she's all too willing to not let someone get in her way. a romantic when she wants to be, a poorer flirt whenever she does try. but that's only part of her charm. the charm of someone that has gone through whatever hell this world has pushed her into as a young girl; that's not something that can be taken from her. here, she could keep falling. she could keep falling into this girl while losing sight of what was the world around her, around them. for all cellinia cares it could end, and she'd be not even thinking about it.
not in the presence of mai, mai who was arching against her body and fitting too perfectly for it to be anything simple. her body really does feel nice against cellinia's, nice to run her hands along while she keeps those searing and beautiful eyes on her lover.
could anyone stop her? no, not truly. if cellinia willed it, then she wouldn't stop at any point. as a woman who knows what she wants, that never was her too. she can be a coward in one sense, she could even run away from everything in her life. but she knows, the only person that could stop her is mai. mai's word alone would be enough to stop this handsome wolf of hers from doing anything. that's an admission that goes unsaid. another thing that neither said would admit to at this moment where they find themselves on a road to their own man-made heaven. who needed someone to let them into those pearly gates when they would have one another? be it those pearly gates or burning away in that fire which took away a lineage long seen as prestigious and full of the traditions of the old country. the motherland which cruelly rips apart her children, their children's children, and those foolish enough to step into it while cellinia shivers at the featherlight touch along her arm. the arm covered in blooming flowers, like nature wrapped itself around her and her body.)
Could anyone?
(don't they both know the answer is before her? there's only one answer, that answer is mai. mai could stop her with a word given while also keeping this girl to herself in a sense. this wolf of hers and her possessive streak that was directed towards her, her and her flirtations. their flirtations which didn't sound normal. there's something twisted in them. how they speak like they know what suits them. a dangerous beast gives this girl more than her own kin ever could have, in how her fingers trail along mai's inner thighs. the ascent slow and tender, she would have happily gone down herself instead for mai to have her pretty mouth eating her own meal again (she did consider it) but she wants those lips of hers against mai's own.)
It's that obvious, is it? (their lips fit together so perfect on the next kiss, their bodies meld like they could melt to pieces against one another down to what's left of their shattered hearts. their hearts which were torn to pieces by the hell they're part of.) I don't let go that easily.
(maybe she wants to be kept by a goddess, by her little red riding hood in how cellinia kisses her deeper in response. to the words she poses for them, that question like it's a shame for mai. she wants this wolf all to herself. the missing piece and remedy. that salve, the medicine, that was something else they couldn't get enough mixed into the poison of tender affection.
tender affection, touch, and whatever this feeling is between them which they stubbornly ignore when cellinia's rough fingers tease along lips, parting them and rubbing slowly. she didn't want to let her be kept waiting now, it wouldn't be good for her devoted wolf to do that, would it? to not touch her after her lover has waited so patiently.)
[Cellinia is right-- it's plenty evident that she would never roll over and permit another to steal away the prey she had declared for her own. She isn't like Mai. Her body is strong, sturdy, marked permanently by thick scars in certain places and fierce monochromatic visuals in others. Cellinia is walking proof that pain doesn't bother her, that she'd even permit it to decorate her perfect body to demonstrate as much to anyone lucky enough to lay their eyes upon her like this. Whatever bites that Mai has littered about her unblemished skin are merely sweet decorations against the threatening sights etched forever into her flesh. Would she collect even more scars for Mai's sake, if their little exercise in imagination were to ever come to fruition? Surely, there must be an exchange to even the scales-- how many of Mai's kinsmen might Cellinia fell to make those new scars worth it?
Then she thinks of that man, the heartless monster who somehow sired her, wielding his flaming blade-- Mai almost feels disgusted with herself at allowing him to invade this sacred space. He has no place here, but his soulless eyes are always lurking in the shadows of her miserable past. That horrid bastard would make Mai watch, wouldn't he, as he brought hell directly to whoever dared insult him further by declaring their devotion for his failure. Now it's her turn to shiver-- her own fault, for letting her mind wander too deeply into this fantasy. Best to rein it in, and not to let reality slip so easily into the cracks. If only in her mind, the only place where she has any control and any power, Mai will keep you safe from him, Cellinia.
The next kiss they share is a touch more insistent, more desperate on Mai's part as she wills the vexation creeping in her periphery to back off. Their lips really are a perfect fit, now, after these countless kisses given and received between the two of them. Cellinia needs not give her mouth elsewhere, no matter how marvelously she had feasted upon Mai before-- Mai has already surrendered herself to the greediness that Cellinia vowed to bathe her in, after all.
Her breath hitches once those fingers at last find their destination, and she sighs out stiffly against her lover's mouth at the sensation that she eases Mai into slowly. Now that Cellinia touches her like this, there's no hiding how excited Mai had become from pleasuring her earlier. Her darling wolf's groans and sighs, the taste of her and how readily she reacted to Mai's lips and tongue, and the way she watched her the entire time, never looking away-- all of it rendered her a proper mess, melting profusely without even needing to be touched. She's sensitive, and anywhere Cellinia would like to tease her would naturally elicit some kind of lovely, needy reaction. Still, Mai will make a last-ditch effort to hold onto some of her composure, knitting her brow and clinging to the firm muscles of her lover's back with both hands now, her nails pressingly slightly against her inked skin to start.]
F-Fine... Say I wanted you to keep me.
[She tries to keep her voice steady despite those fingers stroking between her thighs, with mild success. Mai feels electric again, and her legs begin to faintly quiver beneath Cellinia's body pressing her deep into the dampened sheets. Whenever their mouths part just enough from deep kisses, she offers trembling sighs while her tongue finds a way to tease Cellinia's pretty lips. All the while, her own gaze is determined, giving Cellinia her full attention, as deserved..]
What would you do... if someone came looking for me?
[Despite hoping to avoid the imagery of viciousness that accompanies their dark flirtations, Mai finds herself oddly turned on at the idea of being touched to the sound of Cellinia promising that no one, no one would be able to wrest her out of those beastly clutches. Even if it was a lie, even if it was never to become true, a fire starts to bloom in Mai's chest, making her heart race wildly. Promise it to her, won't you, lovely little wolf? Promise her that you desire her so badly that you'd let none of them stand in your way. She wouldn't even mind if it was a promise broken and shattered from the beginning. Whatever they whisper to one another from here on out never needs to leave these walls.]
(a body like hers is proof that she wouldn't roll over and die, the time spent pushing forward. fights and almost dying. that sound of wolves brutally snarling, growling, and clutching teeth at each other's throats in declaration for what they believe to be their right to dominance. this perfect body is only proof this violence had a hold of her. the violence of blood spilt for family, of chaos in the streets and explosions. people dying underneath fresh rain that never could clean the poor souls who were underneath it. washing away what should have been sins, death, and everything that was rotting away their souls. how unfortunate it didn't work that way. cellinia never saw herself as clean. not after the violence, the bloodshed, and more in a man's world. a woman in a man's world. she was seen as lesser, to those men who were older. the men who said they knew better than some girl who had her grandfather's name behind her.
what good could some girl do? some girl who was the real deal to those that bothered to begrudgingly accept it. they couldn't argue about her results, the marks stand out as something sweeter compared to the imagery and violence carved into the skin. that shiver catches the attention of her lover, her free hand rubbing into her lover's thigh while not knowing what mai was thinking about. about a father who hardly cared, she would have related too well to that detail. her own father hadn't been a father ever since a woman was chosen for a man's role. his own daughter had become his enemy and the one thing preventing him from what he desired most. had she known the man that haunted mai's thoughts, she might have shown him a worse monster than he dared to think himself be. because humans can be monsters, but there was little to stop another beast from proving their delusions of being rulers wrong.
all she had to do was snap her jaw on the man, the maw of a wild creature ravenous and free. the taste of blood on her mouth, her lips dripping down along her body. the eyes of a predator that won't stop until it has what it's after. she kisses this girl deeply, deeper. her insistence and desperation met with more as their lips meld perfect. yes, they didn't need cellinia's mouth elsewhere. what they needed was her lips on mai's own. the taste of them as she licks remnants of her own taste from mai's tongue. she doesn't know the monster her lover thinks about. that mai wants to keep cellinia, precious cellinia, away from the man who had a hand in ruining her.
she might have even wanted to end him faster had she known at all, while one finger eases into that wet heat then another. they slipped in so easily, ah, her little red riding hood must have been in more agony wanting this. patience was difficult, isn't it, mai? she knows you were impatiently wanting her to touch you. run her hands along her body and greedily touch her, in that reverence she held from earlier and has yet to stop showing in those searing eyes. she's got her lover pressed down to the mattress, against the sheets. is it a shield from this cruel world? it must be, in how she's close against mai and not moving away. how she sighs out shakily to her goddesses nails lightly threatening to dig into inked skin.
that question posed, oh that did something in their dark flirtations. how they seem to say things that hold a hint of something more. lurking, waiting, and wanting. that something being more from her pretty wolf than anything. her own attention won't leave mai's face, not while she looks her in the eye. how hungry is this wolf? how far would she go for her?)
I wouldn't let them take you from me....if they tried to, I wouldn't let them have you. Nothing would stop me from keeping you.
(how easy this vow leaves her, her tongue licking into mai's own from their parting. lips parted of this pretty and lovely wolf that mai wants to keep. this wolf who notices how her goddess, her pretty goddess, likes to hear this from how much wetter she's getting. her fingers are steady in how they pump in and out, slow, but steady to feel her all the better. that couldn't be helped, not from how greedy this wolf is to keep this girl all to herself and more than that without knowing. these promises are not sweet lies, but dark truths that they find appealing. flirtations which promises ruin and that nobody could have them but one another.)
They'd be lucky to leave alive, if they intend violence, to hurt you....
(oh, now that is a promise in itself. in what she is capable of doing.)
[If Cellinia found it impossible to be purified beneath the rain, then she might at least take comfort in that she'll find a suitable companion in Mai-- who, herself, would sooner be drowned in any attempt to wash away the sins that cling to her. It didn't matter if she had earned them, like Cellinia had, or not. She was sullied to the bone and carried that immeasurable weight in her heart to prove it. Before today, she wouldn't have cared if that weight had anchored her to the bottom of a depthless ocean, salty from the countless tears she's shed. But now-- it's Cellinia's fault, it's all her fault that something long-forgotten dares to surface again. It's fine to blame her, isn't it? And Mai would only do it ever so sweetly, even as she's pinned beneath and at her mercy.
Mai is almost certain that she doesn't simply imagine it, that split-second of danger that sparks up in the depths of Cellinia's attentive eyes once the question leaves her lips. They're just playing, simply imagining this little scenario... right? This is all merely hypothetical, picturing some lousy scum who dares to stomp his way into their path and demand that his little plaything be returned to him. Mai can picture his face, despite how badly she tries not to, and she'd love nothing more than to watch that repulsive smile of his ripped to shreds out of a wolf's fierce possessiveness. He'd deserve nothing less-- none of them would-- but she'd almost regret having Cellinia sully herself with the foulness of their blood. Almost.
Whatever disgust that rises in her throat doesn't linger for too long, dissipating immediately as soon as she feels those rough fingers filling her up with little resistance. The loud, trembling sigh that tears from her lips at this blissful intrusion terminates in strained whimper against Cellinia's jaw. She blinks a few times, before casting her eyes back up to meet her lover's with a look brimming with relief-- relief at this wonderful sensation and relief at those darkly appealing vows that Cellinia utters just for her.]
Y-Yeah...?
[Patience wasn't her strong suit, but she has found that she and Cellinia are well-matched in this respect. Despite it all, they still aren't sated, and it would probably take melting into one another irreversibly for them to finally feel satisfied. This will have to do, won't it? With Mai softly panting and groaning into kisses that become a bit less refined, her palms rubbing up and down Cellinia's back before they'd still just enough for her to dig her fingers into the flesh there out of reaction to that splendid fullness between her legs. Her eyes shine with frustration and lust, as well as a touch of anger at something that isn't present with them at the moment.]
But what if I didn't want them to be lucky...?
[Oh, there aren't any limits to how deeply they can fall into this kind danger, it seems. First, they were toying with feelings akin to love, and how splendid it is to feel alive again for it. And now they're flirting with something decidedly darker, death's poisonous kiss-- though not meant for either of them. Because those people wouldn't deserve to be lucky. Mai certainly wasn't, not in their presence, so why would she offer them anything other than the generosity they've given to her?]
You'd do it for me, right?
[It goes without saying what 'it' would be-- and it goes without saying that Mai would want to watch it happen, if she could ever be so fortunate. There aren't enough scraps of shame left to cobble together for her to draw back from how hot this train of thought makes her. Undoubtedly, Cellinia can feel it with each steady thrust of her fingers, how it takes her to a more feverish pleasure to imagine the demise of these nameless monsters.]
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Date: 2025-03-28 03:35 am (UTC)What would that 'something' be? Mai wants to shove that gnawing feeling away, if only for now, lest it try to cling sneakily to every touch and kiss she leaves upon this pretty canvas spread out beneath her. Nothing should change, even though everything already has between them by now. They're no longer in the cramped backseat of Cellinia's car, where they could claim the excuse of a quick, meaningless indulgence of lust. They're here now, bodies damp from the shower, enjoying a far more comfortable playground atop Cellinia's bed, trading little flirtations while the music shields them from any nosy neighbors. It's certainly romantic, far more than it ought to be for what they're here to do.
She stifles a laugh at the thought of it-- she can't acknowledge it aloud. Mai doesn't want to let Cellinia know where her thoughts wander to, how soft they can become despite herself. She's here to ruin this handsome wolf, but... the more she looks down at her, with Cellinia well at ease with her arms bound over her head and staring up at Mai with a marked tenderness, the more Mai's initial pettiness towards the endeavor seems to abate.]
You're so agreeable, now. I really like you, like this.
[ 'So we're there, now it's real
Now that you have me, do you want me still?'
Well, that goes without saying-- of course Mai wants her pretty badly. Still kneeling over her, Mai takes Cellinia's face between her two hands, cupping her jaw ever so sweetly, and leans in closer for a kiss. Hers to claim, this time. And everything is hers, now, every single bit of Cellinia is her to claim. It's just like she wanted, no? And her precious wolf seems only too happy to present it to her, to offer herself up both bound and reverent for a girl she recognizes as so direly greedy. Good-- let her taste that greed again in each deep kiss that Mai takes from her, gives her. The line between give and take blurs, bleeding into either side until it becomes utterly negligible. Yet another subtle change, the slow disappearance of an 'upper hand,' despite their distinct positions here.
Nevertheless, Mai hums softly into their kisses, drawing out each connection of their lips before separating for the briefest of moments only to return again, taking Cellinia deeper and giving herself more deeply in return. This dance of ruin is hers to guide and orchestrate, but she can't help but fall just a bit more under the influence of Cellinia's eyes. There are many different ways to ruin someone... and Mai feels compelled to heed her own invisible scars, not wishing for them to influence her into clawing her lover and leaving behind cruel traces of disdain. No, the ruin that she's decided on will haunt them forever-- an apparition that Mai decides that she will create, herself, conjuring it into existence despite never having felt its passionate presence.
The singer croons on-- 'I'm tired of loving somebody that's not mine...'
It is rather tiring, no? Wasting love on someone who would never turn back and repay it, and then holding onto that love tightly, letting it stagnate and fester into something so despair-bitten that it might as well not even be called 'love.' What good was such a feeling, anyway? Mai had never even seen her parents love one another-- that heartless man behaved as if he was ignorant of the very emotion, that even entertaining it would have been so far beneath him that the thought alone would provoke his ire. Her mother was like any other woman in that horrible place, with obedience being her tribute to love, an obedience to a system that demanded her own hatred towards the children she carried and birthed. And because her parents refused to love her-- her and Maki-- Mai finds herself unable to recognize that feeling in the world around her. The love she once clung onto, devoted to her sister, was rendered worthless, as well. Not enough to keep her close, not enough to even keep Mai safe in the swell of hatred ever-ready to snuff out that dying ember of purity in her heart.
So-- this must not be love. As Mai dances her soft fingertips down Cellinia's neck, pressing her palm flat as she makes her way along her sternum, she repeats this silently to herself. This isn't love, it can't be. She won't let it be so-- even if her say in the matter has long since been yanked out of her grasp.]
You'll keep your eyes on me, won't you?
[Her eyes are alight with mischief, but her question is breathed out with an affection that isn't quite befitting of a goddess of ruinous delight. But Mai knows, already, that Cellinia isn't the type to close her eyes, or keep them trained on the ceiling while she wishes for this encounter to be over and done with. She knows that those gorgeous eyes won't ever leave her-- but Mai wants to hear her stoic wolf declare herself to her again.]
Because you might not ever get a show like this, again.
[Though reluctant to cease their kisses once more, Mai shifts back just enough for her to dip her head and begin to press her lips against Cellinia's ribs, nibbling aimlessly about the expanse of damp skin.]
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Date: 2025-03-28 05:07 am (UTC)but they're not that far gone, or so cellinia would tell herself. she says it often, no matter the truth of her coming close to doing just that had she not been found. how much are they both going to be ruined? would it be in a way that would make them both dare to dream to disappear from the lives of others like those stories of young lovers who got bigger dreams in their heads? big dreams of escaping their own hell on earth while things were less than happy on the way to that would be paradise. they didn't have that expectation, that desire. not the way that some would have gotten in their heads. they weren't a pair of fairytale lovers; they were the two that found themselves destroyed. what happy ending could they ever ask for if it was on the table? cellinia who once dreamed of dying and mai who was torn apart equally by this world of theirs they both were part of.
wouldn't that be a joke? they're not in love, they so clearly tell themselves. love at first sight doesn't exist, it doesn't. vulnerability is a weakness that both girls can never afford. what's the point of it as they find themselves doing something they shouldn't have ever done? paradise never suited them, not girls like them who were so destroyed by the idea that it could exist and never came for them. that they're here, in her bed with the belief that nothing was different. that they could never dare to dream big or else that disappointment would eat them, destroy what remains of two broken girls that suffered too much. what would it ever do for them?
yet that's the issue, they're liking it too much. they're pretending, but cellinia doesn't dare to look away. her eyes, the adoration that both could never have. that tenderness they never found, the way it wrenches at their poor hearts and crushes them further. it has to be a joke. that they would fall apart in bed, after telling themselves at most it's nothing. one time, but it was difficult to not crave it more in the way this felt too good.
which is frightening. so very scary, so very terrifying that they could feel something beyond what was that emptiness within them. a void that would never be filled in their lifetime as cellinia often told herself, she'd never fill that heart of hers again after what happened.
(i need you more than i want to, need you more than i want to....
show me you're shameless. write it on my neck, why don't you?)
her lips are against mai's, the song carries on. deeper, deeper. her tongue licks into mai's without a second thought from each kiss she takes. each kiss that's given, no less. cellinia melts for her beautifully. how much does she truly need this, how much would she desire anything? her heart, it's pounding. she ignores the feeling and tells herself it's nothing again. that this can't be anything further than their own desires to keep going. want and need are two different things, different but part of the same coin. that coin called vulnerability, that coin she ignores often. she's had one lover before and the woman in question had hurt more than did any good. tearing her body apart in obsessive drive, calling that love while whispering sweetly and calling the wolf those pretty names she uses for mai now instead. as if to tell herself that she's fine.
a soft sigh comes out into each kiss from cellinia, the deeper they get, the further it goes. the brief parting for each making her want more. more of those lips. more of that kiss which she might not stop dreaming of after this night together. she couldn't think about being without it already. had mai truly tore her apart at the behest of her invisible scars, cellinia might have even understood too well that side of the extremes they both were too used to. that they're ignoring instead for softness, for sweetness in every kiss. the tenderness as that greed breaches them. more. her breathing starts to grow unsteady, unsteady and sharper. her goddesses lips more than enough to get her going as a start from how addicted she is, hopelessly addicted, to her kiss.
(there's a tension in between us. i wanna just give in....)
while mai knew both her parents, the sadder fact is cellinia never knew her mother. not for long. her mother was taken from her young. what little love she received had been from her grandfather's own care, her father stopped caring after his own father decided his granddaughter was worth his efforts more. he was jealous of a girl that had been chosen to shoulder what he deemed his responsibility. a woman in a man's world, a men's exclusive club with greater expectations on her. insults, ignorance, and those unwilling to speak to a woman about "business" without cellinia proving herself. too many of them were hell-bent on owning her. what little love she received was never enough. not enough from not having what one would wish for from a parent, truly the moment they passed she was alone. without that and without ever knowing. like now, she tells herself again. this is not love.
as she told herself, love at first sight doesn't exist. that's a fairytale delight. that isn't something a pair of girls like them should ever have while she hums into the kiss for her goddess at her hand trailing along her skin. this isn't love. but it is, they were only too far gone to realize so soon they found that part of their souls they were without. this is love, love that she wants to surrender to in this tension without knowing the emotion she feels. what they're both feeling.
and that's frightening, whenever it may start to set in.)
....I'll always keep my eyes on you.
(she says it so readily, because she means it. she'd never look away from her. not now especially as her eyes follow her lover, a sharp exhale when she breaks the kiss to run those pretty lips along her ribs. the nips of teeth is lovely, her skin damp and that canvas her beautiful goddess could dare dream of.
a body that belongs to her, a woman that might never dare to let go of her.)
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Date: 2025-03-28 07:14 am (UTC)Ah, that declaration of Cellinia's causes an unfamiliar warmth to bloom within Mai's chest. It spreads, stretches outward, like millions of little tendrils wrapping around her from the inside, commanding her to keep touching, keep kissing, keep eliciting those wonderfully shaky breaths from Cellinia's lips. The desperation is there, so hopelessly evident that Mai almost laughs-- but she would be betraying herself if she does, for she wears her own brand of desperation in the dark excitement in her eyes.]
Good girl-- that's the right answer.
[After all, she did tell Cellinia that her favorite girls were those who anticipated her needs-- and what Mai needs now, the only thing she'll demand of her lover, is her dutiful eyes upon her. That's right-- watch her, truly behold this tenderness that others might scoff at had it been suggested to them. No one else needed to believe that such a softness could exist in this thorn-cloaked girl. They could run at the first prick against their thin skin-- let them. She would give this gift to Cellinia, only to her, in exchange for those eyes...
Though, Mai will admit that she's torn-- old habits draw her towards a swifter path, one where she hurries and hastens her way down Cellinia's lovely form, like a mindless animal devouring its meal by the mouthful. Those instincts want to drive her towards claiming what she's after and dancing off with her little victory immediately after. She's as unmotivated as they come, after all, loathing a drawn out battle, knowing that every second spared is but another opportunity for someone else to take what's hers. But who is here to snatch away her prize? Who does she have to look over her shoulder for, out of a reflexive fear of loss? Before, she would have taken her scraps with anxious hands, feasting like some uncivilized animal waiting for the first signal to scurry off when danger reared its head.
But here, she can be something a bit different, can't she? Because she keeps a beautiful beast underneath her, now, bound by Mai's own hands. Yes-- here, the prize is already hers, and all that is asked of her is to savor the taste of triumph without interruption.
So, she'll take her time, pushing her own patience past its limits. Mai can feel herself nearly trembling because of this alien effort. She won't delude herself and outright declare that she's trying to be a considerate lover-- but there's little in the way of other suitable explanations for what compels her to move slowly, deliberately as she kisses and suckles along her ribcage. Her tongue laps at the remaining droplets from their ill-fated shower, seeking out the faint taste of Cellinia's flesh beneath the thin flavor of the water. She satisfies herself plenty, there, before she raises her head up just enough to busy her lips at the swell of Cellinia's breast, this time. Just as slowly, she leaves proof of her efforts in the form of pretty love bites, and her breath fans teasingly over the stiffened bud there as she explores the rest of the skin with her tongue.
Her hands feel rather idle, though-- she does so love touching Cellinia, hearing her gasp and whine so prettily when her fingers find those special places. With one arm kept close to her lover's side, bracing some of her own weight, Mai wills her enthusiasm to tame itself enough to allow for her free hand to carefully descend down Cellinia's torso. Her touch is featherlight, a far cry from the hungry way she raked thin lines along her skin earlier. No, this time she proffers a torture of a different sort, from the way her fingertips map out where her lips will soon follow. When she gets to the stretch of scars traversing her abdomen, Mai takes care to run her fingers along the flesh there, twisted and puckered and marred from who knows what kind of struggle.
Oh, Cellinia-- how beautifully dangerous your body is, what stories it hints at in the battle-borne blemishes and exquisite lines of dark ink. How long would it take Mai to pour over them in full, and could she ever hope to understand every single word nestled in the masterpiece that Fate had rendered of this body? Perhaps, better to give up that endeavor-- and elect to leave a story of her own across her flesh. A shame, that the colorful bruises left in the wake of her lips would only be temporary...
But, Mai will root herself within Cellinia's very soul, somehow. That shall be how she ruins her.
Like earlier, her hand creeps deliciously between her thighs, her fingertips dipping in just enough to admire how worked up she has Cellinia at this moment. The expression on her face doesn't hide one bit of the glee she feels at the sensation, and she kisses at her breast once before gently swiping her tongue over her nipple, not yet daring to take it between her lips.]
Don't forget-- you promised you'd behave, this time.
[She teases in a sing-song voice, resuming her sweet torment that she had begun in the shower. This time, Cellinia is entirely at her mercy, unable to stop her or punish her should she decide to conveniently still her touch. As far as Mai is concerned, as she has the power to do is plead with her for more of whatever she likes most-- and of course, it's up to Mai if she wishes to heed those pleas.]
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Date: 2025-03-28 08:34 am (UTC)she can see that desperation in mai's own lovely eyes, how they glimmer in the now moonlit bedroom. how cellinia's own shines in the dark a dim amber that stands out in the moon bathing them. just like her namesake. of course it was the answer. she knew it deeply, her lover wants her eyes to never leave her. the devotion and how they stare at her. captivated, wanting, and reverent. how could someone like her be drawn in? whatever could be wrong with her? that answer is obvious in how they both ignore it stubbornly. that the fairytales have blessed them with their meeting. enough that they'd likely consider it as being pitied and turn their noses at the foolish attempts of telling them that they found love. not without kicking and screaming in their own means, their own ways.
those thorns that cage them both would blossom beautifully, a garden comprised of roses that nobody would ever touch again. the roots of them growing deep in their bodies and sprouting out the more they struggle. their garden would bloom, but never once would they have known this to be the cause. nor would cellinia think about it while her eyes refuse to leave her dear goddess and little red riding hood. she wants to watch that beautiful face, she wants to memorize every detail of it like a special prize for herself that she'd never lose. she loves it, the way her eyes sparkle at knowing that she has her body as belonging solely to her. that nobody else has touched her the way mai does. not with this tenderness she forces upon herself.
this tenderness that her wolf appreciates more than the way her body was torn apart so very often ages ago. cellinia is enthralled by it, entranced and caught up in how her shaky breaths start to grow more prominent. the consideration is another thing that she appreciates, cellinia knows it must be difficult more for someone as greedy as mai. knowing that she has this canvas, this everything she can touch and more at the palm of her hands. she's every bit earned her enjoyment of partaking in her wolf's body. as the sole person who could ever have her this way, she deserves that, even if they both would not admit this about themselves.
her sighs are soft, the sounds she makes for her and her alone. notes of lovely music while her tongue licks along the droplets of water from their attempt at showering gone awry. the way it sharpens into a whine at how her breath teases a stiffened nipple, pebbled and tempting for her lover to suckle on it at any given time. she has to behave, is another reminder to herself. no matter the way she wants those lips more in her own impatience. she wants so much more, more than she ever knew she could want of someone in how she marvels at mai's expressions. the tender care despite their mutual impatience and want after cellinia was mercilessly teased earlier.
but it doesn't stop her, not from how she starts to moan for her. that soft song of her voice and whines from wanting to be touched. she misses her hands already, how they feel along her skin. their softness another detail she's memorized. how much would she know by heart after tonight? would she know her body alone in it's everything without seeing her? honestly, yes. she would want to memorize her body to that extent and without even giving up on the notion. because she likes to touch her goddess equally.)
Mai....
(ah, there's her name again. said that pretty way her lover likes so much, the rumble of it down her throat. sensitive, so sensitive. how she moans it for her at her tongue going along her nipple and her teasing. is this her worship again? saying her name until it's all that she knows?
no, it's only part of it from that touch to sensitive scars and tracing over them to commit those to memory. her legs parted enough for her lover's hand, she's soaked. dripping wet, and it's hardly going down by how part of it is along her inner thighs. that shower did little to wash it down after they left, it likely wouldn't have stopped her from being that wet by the time mai was done with her in there. that seems to be a given from how turned on she was getting. from how turned on she is right now, too. she's a mystery in her scars, the ink covering her body. the body of this masterpiece that her lover adores.
who knows if she may ever talk about those mysteries, she does know that she would allow mai to mark whatever stories she desires across her skin both ink covered and marred in scars. some old, some new, and some even life-threatening. nasty in their gnarled shapes and sizes. tales of a life spent in blood, death, and the expectation that she was not to ever show mercy.
a life she had unsurprisingly grown tired of.)
I'll....still behave.
(because she didn't want her to stop, she wants her touch so badly it makes her more of a ravenous mess in that way. lovely goddess, won't you touch her until you both find yourselves insatiable? far too greedy for your own good, even? or perhaps touch her while she shows your body after all the things she'd do for you and more than those other lovers had done.)
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Date: 2025-03-29 01:15 am (UTC)Her friends needn't worry too terribly about Mai. By the time they see her again, she'll have eaten quite well, enjoying her fill of a meal comprised of one very delicious wolf. Her impatience is not such that it would have her racing to devour the main course, but Mai can't resist becoming more and more excited with the soft sighs that tumble from Cellinia's lips in response to the way Mai trails her tongue along her skin. How pretty, the way she even whines for more of her lips upon the tender flesh of her breasts. It's just what Mai desires, witnessing the true face of this animal beneath her, one who grows more and more frustrated at this drawn-out waiting game. It's all right, darling wolf, Mai is just as frustrated with her own set pace-- but won't that make it all the more perfect when they both finally get what they want out of this agonizing prelude?
She has Cellinia, really has her, when she hears her name moaned out in that low and rumbling voice. Now that alone is enough to drive into Mai's already frail patience like a goddamn hammer. A sharp breath of her own fills her lungs, and an intoxicating sensation of need rolls down her spine and terminates in a fiery passion between her hips. God, torturing Cellinia is the same as torturing herself, isn't it? When her needy wolf murmurs a promise to behave, Mai nearly snorts-- but this reaction is mostly aimed towards herself, for her own inclination to behave is swiftly weakening.]
Oh, I'm sure.
[ 'What other choice do you have?', her purred reply insinuates. Yet she can tell that Cellinia is aware enough to conclude that being on her best behavior will net her a reward she ought to be rather pleased with. Of course, she can struggle, she can plead and growl and whine as much as she needs to while Mai works her way towards where they both want her to go. As long as she's behaving, Mai will see fit to misbehave to her heart's content. Though, she'll be good to her in this moment, relieving her of one of her aches when she finally wraps her lips around her nipple and sucks at it softly, rolling her tongue around the bud whenever her lips part to skim across the pebbled flesh around it. She alternates between this suckling and nibbling further marks about her breast, only moving over to do the same to its pair once she's happy with her handiwork.
All the while, her fingers are eagerly coating themselves in Cellinia's dripping need between her thighs. A drawn-out hum of approval vibrates against her skin as Mai's fingers get a thorough feel of how much her lover is already melting for her. True, she already had quite the head-start during their time in the shower, but she had no intention of bringing her lover to climax again in that space. Her intention was to torment Cellinia a little before continuing on with a proper shower-- and she should have known better than to think she was actually going to be successful when her handsome lover was at her fingertips like that. There's always later, when she can try again after she's made a mess of Cellinia, and after she's been made a mess of, in return. And how wonderfully messy Cellinia already is, slick and sticky from Mai's touch and her kisses. An urge is there, one that makes her want to slide her fingers deep inside that heat, feeling her walls cling and flutter around her again. Cellinia had accepted her so beautifully before, and wouldn't she want to feel Mai within her again? Yet, Mai narrows her eyes at her own restraint slipping, and shelves that plan for later, deciding to glide her fingers up and down along her lover's sex. They tease at her inner lips before slowly dragging up and rolling over her clit, sliding over the sensitive flesh with ease thanks to how wet she is. She repeats this motion a few times before two fingertips settle back upon that lovely nub, rubbing it in a gentle rhythm, the pressure alternating between firm and featherlight.
As Mai plays with Cellinia, she shifts her body again to move her arm beneath her lover's back. Leaving the rapid pounding of Cellinia's heartbeat behind, she begins to kiss back up the column of her neck, biting down wherever there's a blank space for another mark. Her tongue dances over her pulse point before lapping up to her jaw, and Mai pauses there with a shaky sigh.]
Kiss me, Cellinia. I'll even let you take as many as you want to.
[Mai lifts herself just enough to bring her face closer to Cellinia's, eyeing her with enough yearning to drown them both. Her fingers don't cease, not like they had before when she was hellbent on trying the wolf's patience. No, this time, she wants to see every little expression she makes as the space between their lips close. You'll watch her, precious little wolf, just as she demands-- and she'll watch you, too, with equal delight.]
Because you won't be able to have them for a while.
[Her mouth is positively aching to busy itself elsewhere, and Cellinia knows exactly where that place will be. But right now, while Mai can still command a sliver of self-control, she wants to drink in those euphoric sighs and moans from their source as her fingers coax forth even more of those delicious juices for her tongue to savor when it's time. They can kiss-- Mai wants to kiss-- while she helps draw Cellinia closer and closer to one of the many breaking points she has in store for her.
For all of her greediness, Mai feels almost smug at how generous she's planning on being. Cellinia might even thank her for ruining her so gorgeously, though Mai won't count on receiving that particular gratitude in words. Goodness, her patience is splintering even more at the thought of it... ]
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.
no subject
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.]
no subject
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.)
no subject
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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Date: 2025-04-02 02:49 am (UTC)yet she isn't that, not here, not ever. what she is now is this girl's lover. her wolf, that handsome beast she would never want to let slip out of her grasp. because what was better than having that missing piece? nothing. nothing felt better than holding such a thing tightly. how they crave to drown in this feeling while the storm engulfs them into the water that forms. filthy from blood, from their suffering, from everything they would have left behind in their fading away from the world. loneliness fades, here they find themselves born anew in how something blooms that neither girl would dare to talk about. giving this a label would only make them afraid, make them fearful. more cellinia than perhaps mai, which is ironic knowing the way she challenged her goddess.
pathetic is something they both are. cellinia more than pathetic, but she'd never admit it out loud. she couldn't bring herself to ever admit her horrific tendencies and how they could one day destroy her. her hands strain, that laugh....god she wants to hear more of her laughter. how it felt vibrating against her skin, how mai's hand grips on her thigh. isn't it beautiful? hearing a girl as torn apart as mai was being alive again.)
If I said I didn't enjoy it, that would be lying.
(this wolf is many things, many of them not so good. though it couldn't be helped, not the way that she stares at her lover and speaks to her. as if this quiet moment comes natural in passion and desire. in lust, in more than that. how she heaves out a shaky sigh to mai's lips against her aching need. by no means are they the best at this, the guest teases her wolf and host from a desire to see more. to have more of her and her body under her grasp.
that's fine, those manners had no place in the bedroom. not the way that they would be using them. anything that needed them was best left at the door; they would show their appreciation in other means. cellinia would, with showering this girl in many things that the wolf never knew she could have done. this is what love should be, to them. many others won't understand, who needed them to know that two scarred and hopelessly pathetic girls were falling hard for one another. crashing faster, too, than most could have ever seen them do.)
I wouldn't want to be mean. Even if I want to put my hands on you so badly, Mai. I want to feel your skin, you know....beneath my hands and how soft you felt.
(ah, it's hard. hard to hold still but not at the same time, she doesn't resist. not how she cries out for her lover, not how she's getting closer and closer to the peak from this sweet yet ruinous torture in those low yet pretty words she gives. maybe they could disappear, for however long they wished to. cellinia and her manners while giving mai the sight of a hungry wolf who only desired to have her. she wants to put her hands on her, she wants to feel her while she cries out herself. isn't this lovely agony the best for you, lover? how your wolf wants so much of you, that greed of hers goes deep. a possessive beast that would stop at nothing if it meant she can have her.
this fire, this hellfire that is burning them mixed into rain. it's a beautiful feeling, a sort of pain and sear that is impossible to ignore. because their bodies demand it. their hearts ache for it. this twisted lover covered in their searing scars, the tempest, and this act of pity and mercy for a pair of lonesome girls. love is theirs, how they show it would only be between one another. because the world could burn for all it's done to them in some ways. cellinia might at times feel that way, but despite that....she also would never want to stop living now that she's found her way slowly through life.
her cries are slightly louder, sharper. her eyes aren't leaving her goddesses face even when cellinia notices that way mai's expression shifts. she almost wants to pause when the other girl looks away, to ask her lover if she wished to say something. only for it to fade quickly whenever she pulls herself out of it. in between the way she moans for her, she isn't rotted. you silly girl, she would have touched you until you both only could dream of one another with or without the way the world had torn them apart. who needed to think about it, about what it's done to them when they have one another? as long as she's herself, cellinia didn't mind how mai might stumble along finding her way through everything.)
You drive me mad....in how much I want that.
(can't you see little red riding hood? this handsome wolf is dying without her hands on you. a desire to touch, a need to. she wants to feel her. she wants to drown in her, in everything while giving her pretty goddess everything. every last drop she wishes most for while cellinia keeps her awake as she mentioned. she would do that, she'd not even dare think about sleeping. as long as mai didn't wish to.
she won't ask about her thoughts earlier, perhaps another time. they didn't need to spoil the mood with their usual, their own brand of self-destruction and everything behind it which could be ignored for this warmth. this bloom of their gardens and vines mingling together love in one of the worst ways that anyone could have ever found it by human standards.)
no subject
Date: 2025-04-02 09:52 pm (UTC)Alas, there's not a lick of deception in her lover's amber eyes, nor in the impassioned cries she offers Mai in return for her diligent work. She wears her pleasure without shame, lets the sparks of love dance in her worshipping eyes while she loses herself more and more to the beautiful ruin Mai had promised her. Probably the most unacceptable honesty of all-- keeping looking at her, pretty wolf, but not like this. This girl's heart likely won't be able to take much more of it without letting that feeling sneak its way through the cracks.
Nevertheless, Mai relishes the way that Cellinia continues to get all the more desperate. Promising Mai that she wouldn't be mean, that all she wants is to simply touch her. How precious-- more honest words sighed so prettily from her lips. Oh, but is that the whole truth, Mai wonders? Because there's a beast beneath that handsome exterior, and would a beast be satisfied with only feeling her lover's skin? Especially after Mai has been teasing and tormenting her with her mouth in bites and kisses and licks-- would such a proud wolf admit defeat so readily, bite down her instincts, and content herself with mere caresses? It's enough to have Mai chuckling again. How romantic you are, Cellinia, and yet Mai is eager to see which side will triumph-- the sincere romantic, or the ravenous wolf?]
Hmph. That's good-- lose your patience just a little bit more for me, won't you?
[In a strange way, she's almost excited to see the way that feeling-- those beginnings of love-- can twist and contort itself as soon as it's in the midst of such carnal ruin. Would she recognize it still? Or would it be snuffed out in favor of the violent danger that one would anticipate when getting involved with a stunning she-wolf? Mai can practically taste the frustration of it all, and it's only heightened when Cellinia faults Mai with how feverish she's becoming at the promise of getting her hands upon her once more.]
Aw, I can tell. Maybe I like it, Cellinia, making you go mad for me...
[How splendid, the way that Cellinia surrenders herself just a little deeper to Mai, who holds her so securely in her arms. Good girl-- keeping so steady for her, even as her body tenses slightly from being brought closer, closer to the top. Slowly, Mai brings her wandering hand back down Cellinia's torso to hold her hips in place once more, her fingernails raking lightly along the way. Her hold tightens, now, becoming far more firm, even as she silently considers that she wouldn't mind too terribly if her lover wanted to enjoy struggling and squirming a bit as she enjoys these last few moments before coming undone against Mai's lips.]
Wonder what you'd say if that's what I wanted to see?
[Her soft musing is vague on purpose, and Mai doesn't bother elaborating on it before she gives Cellinia more and more of that burgeoning bliss she's draws nearer towards. Like before, she keeps her pace steady, though she suckles and laps at her lover with a greater intensity, and she hums pleasantly at this delightful meal she so thoroughly intends to enjoy until she's told that it's enough. Because she won't be satisfied with just bringing Cellinia to her peak-- her nerves tingle with the prospect of hearing her plead with Mai that she can't take any more. A perfect ruin, just like she promised.
So-- what does she mean by those vague words of hers, then? Perhaps it's more obvious than she assumes, a thinly veiled desire to see her lovely wolf go truly mad for her. Because wasn't that the whole point of this? To devastate her thoroughly? Sure, Mai had the fantasy of reducing her to a euphoric mess, unable to do anything but mumble her thanks for it and behold Mai with those reverent eyes. But what if this was her real prize? What if this was what she was after all along, a goal she would readily smother out of a fear of actually having to come face to face with a wild beast at its conclusion? She isn't brave-- far from it, in fact. Yet, she doesn't fear Cellinia, nor the beast that she is, so much as she fears the feeling compelling her to have this lover carved all the more deeply into her body-- no, her very soul.]
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Date: 2025-04-03 02:15 am (UTC)cellinia wants it so badly, to touch her. to do more than that while she drifts the line of ravenously mad and sincerity in her displays of affection. they didn't need to think about it, now the way that their eyes are alight in something mutual. not even how cellinia longs to touch her in a reverence that would shock more than those friends of hers. this is romance to a beast, to be driven mad for their lover in desire and needy. to not ever feel their hunger satisfied. to keep wanting, to stay demanding and hungering of someone that they crave. her hands struggle against their bindings from that urge, it's only growing more by the second as she's driven madder by this girl who flirts so readily with a wolf. wasn't this a challenge? no, the challenge had been already clear they both knew not what they were getting themselves into with how their hearts pound.
they fell in love pathetically. pathetic in the sense of it being so hard for them, they deny it, and they tell themselves the sprouts of warmth is meaningless. it isn't meaningless. it wants to sink its claws into them the way that it desires to rip them apart for the mistake of finding one another, they had no say in their destruction and the mutual binding of it. what good was their resolve to not fall in love and have this purity in their hands if they were so easily swayed? yet that's also the point, they'd also destroy themselves sooner than admit that about it. cellinia doesn't dare to put it to words. if she does, then it'd only truly ruin her in how sinful this feels to have it in her calloused hands.
cellinia hears those words, she finds it harder not to squirm a little in how good she feels. in how she reacts. mai's hands take hold of her hips, the raking of light lines while holding on so tightly to her body is driving this poor wolf into further insanity. she blames her for this madness, but cellinia welcomed it all the same. she welcomed it all with how those eyes never leave her lover. that sear and reverence. the reverence of a wildly handsome beast. it twists, it turns. neither side may never admit to their falling so fast, so soon, but that only mattered even less. they didn't need in the end to admit to it.
not to the truth, not to what they lie to themselves about while this handsome she-wolf cries out. her walls tightening, her body tensing, she's so close. the beauty of it a sight for her lover to see and have to herself. because not another soul has shared this bed of hers, this is all for mai. all for that greedy girl who wants to carve into every inch of a wolf's body and soul that desire to chase her. to pursue her if it's the last thing she ever did while cellinia breathes out more harsher notes, harsher sighs.)
Don't you....dare to not remember this sight, is what I'd say.
(don't forget it. the sight of those once dead and empty eyes that stare at her, how she cries out for her so reverent while her hips quiver in mai's grasp. how she stares with feelings that were inexplicable in the eyes of the wolf in need and madness. that wish is something of her own accord while mai picks up where she left off. her hands tense and so wishing they were freed from the grasp of that tie. how could she miss it so badly and so soon? does she truly think this girl to be her mate already? with or without that mark, she wants to touch her. she needs to touch her.
but it's not enough to think about it, not in how finally (good grief, finally) she reaches her climax. her body tense, struggling to not break from the grasp of her lover in how she writhes, how she squirms into her hands. what a beautiful sight, of this perfect body mai so very loves covered in light sweat and more coming undone for her. in those marks she left, in how her wolf feels so utterly ravenous in desire. she wants to touch this girl after all, but she wants to feast on her in kind while taking those kisses she missed dearly.
this time, she would give her more of her hands to make up for them being restrained. cellinia might even not stop kissing her until they're almost out of air. or perhaps until they almost find themselves dizzy and almost passing out from everything. from the feeling as they fall deeper and sink away into the rain, the desert as this garden blooms around them.
but she did as mai wished, those eyes....they never left her, not even in the peak of her pleasure.)
no subject
Date: 2025-04-04 07:49 am (UTC)Those bindings are working overtime, and it's a wonder that Mai's novice attempt at tying her lover up has lasted this long. Who knows if the crimson tie will even be considered usable after this? Though if it is, then Cellinia might wear it with a secret enjoyment, knowing what exactly it was used for before gracing her neck properly. And what would she tell herself, should she ever catch herself alone with her reflection, with the marks that Mai had left behind hidden and yet fading beneath her clothes? She would be confronted directly with the misguided feeling she has given herself to. One of the worst sins a beast could commit-- falling in love with her prey.
Mai's own existence is already mired in sin, so what's another to add to her crimes? At the very least, she could keep this a secret, an encounter whose only witness now is the moon slowly making its journey across the sky. Pretty soon, the two of them will be left in the dark of the night, further concealed in their secrecy. No one will know, they'll never be privy to the way Cellinia shudders and strains as she succumbs to pleasure under Mai's firm hold. They could only dream of witnessing the way she beholds the one responsible for unraveling her like this, with those eyes that teem with an intense devotion.
Oh, Cellinia. Don't worry-- there's no way I'm ever going to forget this.
Her hands grip Cellinia hard while she continues to work her through her climax, and Mai only releases her fully once she's satisfied and certain that her lover has had more than enough enjoyment, as well. More than that, though, Mai is wracked by a mischievous impatience to clamber back up to that lovely, flushed face and invite her to taste what a lovely mess she's made of her. So, after she sits up, daintily tidying her lips with the back of her hand, Mai smiles impishly at Cellinia as she crawls over to her. Her fingers brush the errant, damp strands of hair that still cling to her cheek, then cup her jaw, bringing her lips up for Mai to claim in an impassioned kiss.]
There-- isn't that nice?
[A second kiss, then a third, each one as deep and as hungry as the one that precedes it. She doesn't pay any mind how she makes a proper mess of them both with these kisses. Her precious wolf missed them, didn't she? How generous Mai is, for bestowing them upon her once more, as well as sharing what Cellinia has so sweetly given to her.]
Don't you taste so good, Cellinia?
[And Mai is plenty aware of how agonizingly desperate her wolf was to have her hands freed, too. While her lips are locked blissfully with Cellinia's, the hand she isn't bracing her weight upon fumbles with the knot securing the wolf's wrists to the bedframe. It takes her a tad longer than she expects, and she hums in a faint annoyance as her nails dig into the fabric, searching for a weak spot until she loosens one, herself. She's far too busy trading Cellinia's taste with her to demand thanks for her kindness-- her greed, really, that compels her to release those hands that she longs to have upon her once more-- but her eyes are dancing with a good-natured mocking that conveys her thoughts all the same.]
no subject
Date: 2025-04-04 09:27 am (UTC)falling in love with one's prey is indeed the worst mistake a beast may ever make, there is no reason to do that. they are to ease, they are to feast upon their love without a word. she may never stop thinking about this girl, this goddess and pretty little red riding hood. her breathing is harsh while the wolf comes down, a temporary reprieve from mai getting those eyes in how she breathes. bleary-eyed and trying to knit together the pieces of her mind that are not together in this daze. her body is at ease, the tension faded until she feels skin brushing against skin.
her recovery, though it hadn't been long, shifts when those pretty eyes fall back on mai. the impish smile, the way her fingers brush against her cheek. they aren't done yet, are they? she didn't need reason, nor sanity, when cellinia feels the biting urge again of desire. not a fight against it, not a struggle, only the sight of her kissing this girl in hunger. a sweet moan (or is it a growl) at the taste on mai's lips and tongue once she cupped her jaw to bring her in closer. isn't the relief wonderful, mai? you must have been dying for her lips again, too. that way the wolf kisses her ravenous and deeply for each given.
her breathing is unsteady, heavy, and craving in that way her eyes shine darkly in the dim moonlight. it didn't need to be a dream, what they're doing. those sounds she makes must be like heaven for a girl who had so little. that she could get someone like this woman to cry out for her. cellinia doesn't say anything at first, but her actions speak more clearly. that she can't get enough of mai, with or without the taste of her arousal on her tongue. more. more as those lips show their hungry devotion, more as cellinia feels her wrists slowly being freed. the knot loosens and the wolf does the rest with her wrists coming free.
it didn't take much for her to roll them over so that mai was on her back, it also didn't take her long to respond to that good-natured mockery with the wolf's hands brushing along mai's skin. there's a sigh of relief into the kisses, it must have been painful. agonizing, truly, for her to go so long without touching this body that she worships as a devoted follower.)
I missed your lips too much....
(a tight press of their bodies comes together, her chest against mai's while cellinia's hands glide along her thighs. another kiss, another heavy sigh. pathetic and pretty wolf, giving this much of herself to a girl like mai. but that's fine. they both weren't in the best of states, not that anyone cared enough to pay attention to that. cellinia didn't need them to, she would have ignored their concerns, similarly to mai before her. because it would have felt fake to girls like them, who were ruined since the start of their lives.)
I can't get enough of it, your touch, your body, and your kiss.
(a breathless vow, a breathless kiss. those battle-worn and rough hands brush up along mai's hips next, a slow ascent as if memorizing this girl's body again. almost like she's reminding herself of how soft her lover feels, how much she longed to feel her again. isn't your wolf so lovely, mai? in how she shows you she wants you?)
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Date: 2025-04-05 05:16 am (UTC)The two lovers trade soft groans and needy sighs as they satiate their longing for more kisses after their little interlude. It's certainly mutual, this yearning to taste one another again, to look into each other's eyes as their tongues intertwine. Without a doubt, Mai missed it greatly, herself, but she's not as willing to declare as much and as openly as her romantic wolf is. Yet her own passion ought to speak for itself, evident in how her arms swiftly encircle Cellinia's neck once she switches their positions, a muffled moan of appreciation fed to her lover's lips while she shifts her body beneath her to maximize their contact.]
Mm, I know you did.
[And how she loves to hear Cellinia say it, in that lovely voice rendered so deliciously husky after whimpering and crying out for her not moments earlier. Her precious wolf's heart still beats rapidly, Mai can tell, the throbbing obvious against her own chest in the close pressing of their bodies together. How anguished Cellinia must have been, living without these kisses despite having the chance to enjoy Mai's lips against the more tender parts of her beautiful body. What a curious little beast you are, Cellinia-- but it only spurs Mai to crave you all the more deeply.]
What did you say you wanted to do...? Oh, right-- bathe my lips in your greediness?
[Grinning smugly, Mai repeats the impassioned words uttered by her lover before she was made to suffer beautifully under her tongue. Of course they've stayed with her this entire time-- not a single soul has ever breathed such reverent tenderness to her. And they certainly haven't sighed in such relief as soon as their hands are given the chance to caress her body once more. Wherever Cellinia maps with her rough fingers leaves Mai's nerves alight and tingling, and she hums pleasurably into their kisses. One of her hands leaves to do some roaming of its own, trailing down one of the wolf's strong arms, her pale fingers stark against the inky blooms marked and traversing her flesh.]
Poor thing... You're gonna be a mess when I have to leave you.
[Wicked girl, she is. Mai knows exactly what she's doing with these words, menacing them both with an end they know they'd have to face, eventually. Beneath her taunting is something far more desperate-- a cruel need to ensnare Cellinia all the more ruthlessly into her little web, making it such that she would rather chase Mai to the ends of the earth than face the emptiness of a single moment without her. Or perhaps Mai is merely poisoned so thoroughly, so pathetically that she wants to be held captive by this gallant wolf, trapped beneath those eyes that she is so irrevocably mesmerized by.]
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Date: 2025-04-05 06:51 am (UTC)it's little surprise that cellinia can be a romantic in how she feeds her moans to her lover again. how breathless she must sound, sighing out those lovely sound's, the way her voice is husked. raw, passionate. her hands pause their mapping of mai's body and memorization of it again like it killed her to not touch this girl. how far are they both willing to go? isn't that the beautiful mystery? they'd never know, they wouldn't be able to answer that question themselves. cellinia couldn't if she ever dared to try, in how she was far too willing to touch her lover so boldly while whispering tender affections that not a soul has heard from the wolf before. that's the appeal. she wouldn't stop this. not how she has her heart pounding.)
You're not wrong, to both....
(that lovely husk to her voice remains, the rawness to it is another thing worth that effort. that struggle where they both had to resist their impatience. one focused it on the agony she gave her lover, the other by reminding herself that she promised to behave. her perfect canvas, a beautiful body belonging to mai's lips and hands. who needed to admit anything? she responds so readily, so easily. her body every bit something of a treasure meant for a goddess and little red riding hood that she's so reverent towards. it's torture. torture to have the thought about not having these lips against hers. to not touch her body like cellinia is now as worn fingers brush against mai's sides up along near her ribs then trail back down.
she is curious, isn't she? but even she craves mai deeply, it was hard for her not to crave her. to keep tempting her like this, you must be greedy, mai. though they both knew that since the start in how they're not caring to hide it. that suited cellinia fine, she even has a deeper craving for the other woman. a possessive streak does exist in this beautiful beast of hers, one that she might even see one day. how cellinia may even touch her and not care who sees her wrapping her arm around mai's waist to pull her in close to her.)
....or do you want to be kept by me?
(how serious that offer is, is a mystery in itself. with the way they talk, their flirtations sounded beyond something normal for two who only had just met. the words breathless, spoken during a brief parting of their lips while her wolf's hands make their way down to mai's thighs again. her fingers stroke slowly along the skin, a destination in mind for them clearly. she did say she missed touching her lover, that didn't only mean in how her hands mapped her body out again to commit it back to memory in her sweet agony.
wouldn't it be better for you, mai, to be kept by this pretty wolf in her den as they never find you again? or however she wills it, cellinia would respond. who knows. they're in deep, and it might never be the same in how she'd want to chase this girl to the ends of the earth as thought from their mutual loneliness. the empty feeling that comes at the idea of their parting.)
no subject
Date: 2025-04-06 10:40 am (UTC)When Cellinia poses her question to Mai, it's plenty obvious that the wolf has made up her own mind about it. How curious is she about Mai's answer, and how much can she already surmise what this response might be? Yet if Mai gives her reply, truly answers from that burgeoning feeling within her, it would be a pitiful admission that she is keen on falling even deeper into this strange union. She'd be the one surrendering, offering herself up to be bound, as well-- though instead with chains that are imperceptible to the eye and far more sturdy than that scrap of fabric formerly around Cellinia's wrists. So, she doesn't answer immediately. Not out of spite, but because unlike this romantic wolf of hers, Mai finds that honesty like this is often smothered by her very nature. After all, the wishes she seems to speak aloud are almost always shattered once the words leave her lips.
Better to keep such as answer to herself, far better, instead, to enjoy the pretty way that Cellinia unabashedly moans with satisfaction into their kisses, gorging herself on the feel of Mai's skin as her fingers trail up and down her sides. The sensation has Mai tensing and arching reflexively against her, though who's to say if it's from the tenderness of this touch, or simply a ticklishness that her lover inadvertently uncovers. Though neither of them admitted a thing, the sweet manner in which their bodies react to one another in these moments speak loudly enough. In a perfect world, it might indeed have been something she'd make Cellinia swear to her-- to keep her, always. But life has been far from kind to her, and Mai just can't snuff out the jaded part of her heart. Still, it wouldn't hurt to play along, would it...? Her fingertips trail slowly, up and down the tattooed blossoms that wrap around Cellinia's arm, her touch light on purpose. When their lips part for a moment, Mai turns her head slightly to drink in the sight. Menacing, in all of its dark beauty. And, of course, the exact same could be said about her handsome wolf.]
Mm... Who'd stop you?
[She'll indulge Cellinia in this little fantasy, of playing the captive in this wolf's den. These flirtations of theirs are rather warped, aren't they? There's nothing timid or reserved about the way they tease one another like this, dancing around the line between their eager imaginations and what they desire to become a reality for them. It amuses Mai to consider who would try to get in Cellinia's way if Mai were to meet her suggestion with a wholehearted agreement. She's not some hapless girl who would scamper off when confronted with how dismal Mai's personal life truly is. No, anyone would take a single look at Cellinia and see that there were few, if any, threats she wouldn't face down in the name of her goal. Maybe that's why she'll entertain this fantasy in a little more earnest, because of the possessive streak she can feel has more than enough weight behind it.]
Bet you'd do whatever it takes, once you're dead-set on getting your way.
[And yet, Mai's imagination can only stretch so far when she gets to this point. In fact, she almost doesn't want to bring herself to think about it, the real monsters in Cellinia's way, keeping her from sequestering Mai away from whoever thinks they own her, thinks that her miserable life would be better in their hands than in some dangerous looking wolf's. Right-- that same wolf's hands hold her more preciously than those of her own kin, and she trembles and sighs at how indulgent it is to simply feel those fingers slowly stroking along her thighs again.]
Too bad. [Ah, but their bodies fit together so perfectly, and their kisses taste like a remedy they have long been searching for.] It's too bad I can't keep you instead, hm?
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Date: 2025-04-06 11:26 pm (UTC)why let humanity stop her? from the red marks around her wrists thanks to the fabric of that tie, she's all too willing to not let someone get in her way. a romantic when she wants to be, a poorer flirt whenever she does try. but that's only part of her charm. the charm of someone that has gone through whatever hell this world has pushed her into as a young girl; that's not something that can be taken from her. here, she could keep falling. she could keep falling into this girl while losing sight of what was the world around her, around them. for all cellinia cares it could end, and she'd be not even thinking about it.
not in the presence of mai, mai who was arching against her body and fitting too perfectly for it to be anything simple. her body really does feel nice against cellinia's, nice to run her hands along while she keeps those searing and beautiful eyes on her lover.
could anyone stop her? no, not truly. if cellinia willed it, then she wouldn't stop at any point. as a woman who knows what she wants, that never was her too. she can be a coward in one sense, she could even run away from everything in her life. but she knows, the only person that could stop her is mai. mai's word alone would be enough to stop this handsome wolf of hers from doing anything. that's an admission that goes unsaid. another thing that neither said would admit to at this moment where they find themselves on a road to their own man-made heaven. who needed someone to let them into those pearly gates when they would have one another? be it those pearly gates or burning away in that fire which took away a lineage long seen as prestigious and full of the traditions of the old country. the motherland which cruelly rips apart her children, their children's children, and those foolish enough to step into it while cellinia shivers at the featherlight touch along her arm. the arm covered in blooming flowers, like nature wrapped itself around her and her body.)
Could anyone?
(don't they both know the answer is before her? there's only one answer, that answer is mai. mai could stop her with a word given while also keeping this girl to herself in a sense. this wolf of hers and her possessive streak that was directed towards her, her and her flirtations. their flirtations which didn't sound normal. there's something twisted in them. how they speak like they know what suits them. a dangerous beast gives this girl more than her own kin ever could have, in how her fingers trail along mai's inner thighs. the ascent slow and tender, she would have happily gone down herself instead for mai to have her pretty mouth eating her own meal again (she did consider it) but she wants those lips of hers against mai's own.)
It's that obvious, is it? (their lips fit together so perfect on the next kiss, their bodies meld like they could melt to pieces against one another down to what's left of their shattered hearts. their hearts which were torn to pieces by the hell they're part of.) I don't let go that easily.
(maybe she wants to be kept by a goddess, by her little red riding hood in how cellinia kisses her deeper in response. to the words she poses for them, that question like it's a shame for mai. she wants this wolf all to herself. the missing piece and remedy. that salve, the medicine, that was something else they couldn't get enough mixed into the poison of tender affection.
tender affection, touch, and whatever this feeling is between them which they stubbornly ignore when cellinia's rough fingers tease along lips, parting them and rubbing slowly. she didn't want to let her be kept waiting now, it wouldn't be good for her devoted wolf to do that, would it? to not touch her after her lover has waited so patiently.)
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Date: 2025-04-07 08:41 am (UTC)Then she thinks of that man, the heartless monster who somehow sired her, wielding his flaming blade-- Mai almost feels disgusted with herself at allowing him to invade this sacred space. He has no place here, but his soulless eyes are always lurking in the shadows of her miserable past. That horrid bastard would make Mai watch, wouldn't he, as he brought hell directly to whoever dared insult him further by declaring their devotion for his failure. Now it's her turn to shiver-- her own fault, for letting her mind wander too deeply into this fantasy. Best to rein it in, and not to let reality slip so easily into the cracks. If only in her mind, the only place where she has any control and any power, Mai will keep you safe from him, Cellinia.
The next kiss they share is a touch more insistent, more desperate on Mai's part as she wills the vexation creeping in her periphery to back off. Their lips really are a perfect fit, now, after these countless kisses given and received between the two of them. Cellinia needs not give her mouth elsewhere, no matter how marvelously she had feasted upon Mai before-- Mai has already surrendered herself to the greediness that Cellinia vowed to bathe her in, after all.
Her breath hitches once those fingers at last find their destination, and she sighs out stiffly against her lover's mouth at the sensation that she eases Mai into slowly. Now that Cellinia touches her like this, there's no hiding how excited Mai had become from pleasuring her earlier. Her darling wolf's groans and sighs, the taste of her and how readily she reacted to Mai's lips and tongue, and the way she watched her the entire time, never looking away-- all of it rendered her a proper mess, melting profusely without even needing to be touched. She's sensitive, and anywhere Cellinia would like to tease her would naturally elicit some kind of lovely, needy reaction. Still, Mai will make a last-ditch effort to hold onto some of her composure, knitting her brow and clinging to the firm muscles of her lover's back with both hands now, her nails pressingly slightly against her inked skin to start.]
F-Fine... Say I wanted you to keep me.
[She tries to keep her voice steady despite those fingers stroking between her thighs, with mild success. Mai feels electric again, and her legs begin to faintly quiver beneath Cellinia's body pressing her deep into the dampened sheets. Whenever their mouths part just enough from deep kisses, she offers trembling sighs while her tongue finds a way to tease Cellinia's pretty lips. All the while, her own gaze is determined, giving Cellinia her full attention, as deserved..]
What would you do... if someone came looking for me?
[Despite hoping to avoid the imagery of viciousness that accompanies their dark flirtations, Mai finds herself oddly turned on at the idea of being touched to the sound of Cellinia promising that no one, no one would be able to wrest her out of those beastly clutches. Even if it was a lie, even if it was never to become true, a fire starts to bloom in Mai's chest, making her heart race wildly. Promise it to her, won't you, lovely little wolf? Promise her that you desire her so badly that you'd let none of them stand in your way. She wouldn't even mind if it was a promise broken and shattered from the beginning. Whatever they whisper to one another from here on out never needs to leave these walls.]
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Date: 2025-04-07 09:43 am (UTC)what good could some girl do? some girl who was the real deal to those that bothered to begrudgingly accept it. they couldn't argue about her results, the marks stand out as something sweeter compared to the imagery and violence carved into the skin. that shiver catches the attention of her lover, her free hand rubbing into her lover's thigh while not knowing what mai was thinking about. about a father who hardly cared, she would have related too well to that detail. her own father hadn't been a father ever since a woman was chosen for a man's role. his own daughter had become his enemy and the one thing preventing him from what he desired most. had she known the man that haunted mai's thoughts, she might have shown him a worse monster than he dared to think himself be. because humans can be monsters, but there was little to stop another beast from proving their delusions of being rulers wrong.
all she had to do was snap her jaw on the man, the maw of a wild creature ravenous and free. the taste of blood on her mouth, her lips dripping down along her body. the eyes of a predator that won't stop until it has what it's after. she kisses this girl deeply, deeper. her insistence and desperation met with more as their lips meld perfect. yes, they didn't need cellinia's mouth elsewhere. what they needed was her lips on mai's own. the taste of them as she licks remnants of her own taste from mai's tongue. she doesn't know the monster her lover thinks about. that mai wants to keep cellinia, precious cellinia, away from the man who had a hand in ruining her.
she might have even wanted to end him faster had she known at all, while one finger eases into that wet heat then another. they slipped in so easily, ah, her little red riding hood must have been in more agony wanting this. patience was difficult, isn't it, mai? she knows you were impatiently wanting her to touch you. run her hands along her body and greedily touch her, in that reverence she held from earlier and has yet to stop showing in those searing eyes. she's got her lover pressed down to the mattress, against the sheets. is it a shield from this cruel world? it must be, in how she's close against mai and not moving away. how she sighs out shakily to her goddesses nails lightly threatening to dig into inked skin.
that question posed, oh that did something in their dark flirtations. how they seem to say things that hold a hint of something more. lurking, waiting, and wanting. that something being more from her pretty wolf than anything. her own attention won't leave mai's face, not while she looks her in the eye. how hungry is this wolf? how far would she go for her?)
I wouldn't let them take you from me....if they tried to, I wouldn't let them have you. Nothing would stop me from keeping you.
(how easy this vow leaves her, her tongue licking into mai's own from their parting. lips parted of this pretty and lovely wolf that mai wants to keep. this wolf who notices how her goddess, her pretty goddess, likes to hear this from how much wetter she's getting. her fingers are steady in how they pump in and out, slow, but steady to feel her all the better. that couldn't be helped, not from how greedy this wolf is to keep this girl all to herself and more than that without knowing. these promises are not sweet lies, but dark truths that they find appealing. flirtations which promises ruin and that nobody could have them but one another.)
They'd be lucky to leave alive, if they intend violence, to hurt you....
(oh, now that is a promise in itself. in what she is capable of doing.)
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Date: 2025-04-08 06:16 am (UTC)Mai is almost certain that she doesn't simply imagine it, that split-second of danger that sparks up in the depths of Cellinia's attentive eyes once the question leaves her lips. They're just playing, simply imagining this little scenario... right? This is all merely hypothetical, picturing some lousy scum who dares to stomp his way into their path and demand that his little plaything be returned to him. Mai can picture his face, despite how badly she tries not to, and she'd love nothing more than to watch that repulsive smile of his ripped to shreds out of a wolf's fierce possessiveness. He'd deserve nothing less-- none of them would-- but she'd almost regret having Cellinia sully herself with the foulness of their blood. Almost.
Whatever disgust that rises in her throat doesn't linger for too long, dissipating immediately as soon as she feels those rough fingers filling her up with little resistance. The loud, trembling sigh that tears from her lips at this blissful intrusion terminates in strained whimper against Cellinia's jaw. She blinks a few times, before casting her eyes back up to meet her lover's with a look brimming with relief-- relief at this wonderful sensation and relief at those darkly appealing vows that Cellinia utters just for her.]
Y-Yeah...?
[Patience wasn't her strong suit, but she has found that she and Cellinia are well-matched in this respect. Despite it all, they still aren't sated, and it would probably take melting into one another irreversibly for them to finally feel satisfied. This will have to do, won't it? With Mai softly panting and groaning into kisses that become a bit less refined, her palms rubbing up and down Cellinia's back before they'd still just enough for her to dig her fingers into the flesh there out of reaction to that splendid fullness between her legs. Her eyes shine with frustration and lust, as well as a touch of anger at something that isn't present with them at the moment.]
But what if I didn't want them to be lucky...?
[Oh, there aren't any limits to how deeply they can fall into this kind danger, it seems. First, they were toying with feelings akin to love, and how splendid it is to feel alive again for it. And now they're flirting with something decidedly darker, death's poisonous kiss-- though not meant for either of them. Because those people wouldn't deserve to be lucky. Mai certainly wasn't, not in their presence, so why would she offer them anything other than the generosity they've given to her?]
You'd do it for me, right?
[It goes without saying what 'it' would be-- and it goes without saying that Mai would want to watch it happen, if she could ever be so fortunate. There aren't enough scraps of shame left to cobble together for her to draw back from how hot this train of thought makes her. Undoubtedly, Cellinia can feel it with each steady thrust of her fingers, how it takes her to a more feverish pleasure to imagine the demise of these nameless monsters.]
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