[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.]
(drowning isn't so bad, whenever someone finds that part of themselves that had been hidden away from their grasp. some never will. it didn't matter they were meant to die, drown in this ocean they're being pulled down into the depths of. how could it matter? they didn't need the pity of anyone while they drown together in what would be the endless depths. their lives are only theirs alone, they didn't need someone to pity them for their misery. for the sins they'd never wash away in their lives as they can only carry on. so she can take the blame, the blame from her lover while those searing eyes show more than one would have liked. there was nothing about that spark that suggests she would show mercy. she only would have if there was word given from mai. nothing more. beasts don't show mercy, so humans hardly should expect a wolf or wild creature to know much of it.
surely it's their imagination? the truth is, no, it's not leaning towards imagined only. that feeling, those darker vows whispered that the wolf would keep in her arms a girl who sighs in bliss. bliss at her rough fingers easing themselves into that lovely heat of her little red riding hood's body. she would have been covered in his blood, their blood, without so much as being fazed by it. the wild beast would have even sat there while mai wipes clean their filth from her face, her body, which she decorates and hold dearly as her perfect canvas. because this girl would give her the world the way that broken girls could when that time comes.
that trembling sigh and relief draws her attention more, the way their eyes meet while they trade these frightening words. how it must sound like poetry for the darker part of their thoughts about what it means to belong and have someone to themselves. there is no room that suggests cellinia was not serious. she's always serious. her words straightforward and blunt, even her flirting can be missed, but here it's not. here it is heard clearly. the appeal of it that her lover wants and craves whenever the wolf hums in response to that relief. that look in her lover's eyes which suggests mai has something more in mind also catches cellinia's attention.
she could be a patient predator, she could show her restraint when desired. right now there isn't a need to, in how she sighs out sharply from fingers digging into her back along unmarked and inked skin. their kisses are getting messier, sloppy and more leaning into something that could be filthy. their father's both would be upset to see them disregard manners. especially cellinia's own, but she thinks he could rot in his grave and would have killed that man again if he so much as tried to hurt mai the way that he did her grandfather. she'd kill him twice over for this girl.
she didn't want them to be lucky, did she? she can tell, that frustration and anger mixed into the lust. this is something serious, even with it being "hypothetical". what about it is? because they way they speak suggests they might consider it while wishing they could have melted to pieces into one another's hearts and souls. mending those fractured pieces with their twisted own while cellinia doesn't pause her fingers and their steady work into her lover. this girl who she touches tenderly while promising love, promising something like death. frightening. but those girls aren't normal, the two who would only know twisted love and pure love mixed into one.)
It's your word that decides it....
(oh, that must sound so sweet. how she whispers it, her voice drenched in something akin to love, and it's darker halves without knowing. why would she allow them to live if mai decides they were wastes of space who didn't deserve the air they breathe? cellinia almost surely would think similar. that they don't deserve that generosity of being allowed to live in this world. their lives should burn out the very same way that cellinia's own family faded away. in fire and in death. she would happily do it if she had known what they've done in their rotten desires to her lover. to this goddess and girl she's unwittingly marked, claimed, and more as hers without realizing in her baser instincts.)
I'd do it. They wouldn't deserve the mercy, much less that chance.
(she's noticed. that scent of arousal thick, growing stronger with how her fingers thrust deeply into her lover. how much did she love this? did she imagine those monsters fading to the wild beast? how she would have torn them apart for daring to believe they deserve mercy? she didn't miss it, not what mai meant. she would have ended any monsters for her, done anything for her in this world they both were torn apart by.)
I'd do anything.
(she whispers the vow between breathless and filthy kisses, between her fingers steadily working into their rhythm more. they're relentless in how she slowly picks up their pace, in how cellinia shields her for now while her body pins mai's own beneath her. from the world, under this moonlit night where they make vows and promises that are of love and their twisted natures.)
[Whatever fine line that they precariously walk is now fast fading, disappearing beneath the lapping waves of the merciless ocean that they've chosen as their burial ground. This line that was once drawn into the ever-shifting sand, separating what should have been mere casual fantasies from darker promises that are so eager to be fulfilled, vanishes as these two fate-kissed lovers untether themselves completely from any and all reason, capitulating to the cruel and broken facets of their souls. And now they're adrift, lost at sea, ready to quench a frightening thirst to spill unclean blood. Their ocean of misery will be dyed a deep crimson if they keep this up-- too bad for everyone else, though, that this sorry pair of girls would find it positively beautiful.
This world ought not to have corrupted them so thoroughly, crushing their innocence and steeping their hearts in a paralyzing bitterness, because now Mai is giving her body unquestionably to one handsome wolf who has her picturing such splendid, bloodied scenes as she shudders and whimpers from fingers that find their home within her fluttering walls. And Mai would do it-- she would take a cloth to the Zen'in blood drenching her lover, and soak up every last drop from her perfect form before pressing her lips to each inch she wipes clean. Oh, she would even fuck this magnificent wolf before an audience of lifeless eyes, made vacant by a woman who once wore such an emptiness in her own before she dared to viciously taste life once again. It wouldn't matter anymore, Mai would gladly do it-- one final, brilliant disrespect aimed directly at her father, who could rage at her as much as he pleased from the jaws of hell.
When Cellinia gives Mai the power to snuff out those lives-- gives her mere word sovereignty over the fate of her kin-- she feels as if the breath is robbed from her very lungs. From a lowly, mistreated serving girl to someone who could demand the erasure of a family with such strength and prestige, it's enough to make her feel dizzy with the self-preserving thoughts that this can't be real. It isn't, it can't be, this is just the two of them taking this game of make-believe to the cruelest of depths, all in the pursuit of using this sinfulness to chase some carnal satisfaction.
Yet when Cellinia promises that she would do anything, Mai swears she almost loses it completely at this whispered vow, these beautiful words uttered with such an intensity that it feels like her heart is practically leaping from her chest. She knows it-- that is real. There's noting false or pretend in this declaration. It's as real as the dark devotion, molten in that amber gaze, it's as ardent as the messy, filthy kisses they exchange as passion eats away at whatever sense dares to linger in this union.]
Y-Yeah-- do it. Do it for me...
[Do anything, everything she might possibly want. Even do the things that Mai might be too afraid to ask for outright, her true voice still smothered by the vestiges of loyalty she begrudgingly carries for a life that never once loved her. Break it all-- ah, she feels it, she feels so close to breaking, already. And if she were to shatter in this moment, Cellinia, she would demand that you wield the shards of her to slice down the monsters who made her this way.]
I want it, Cellinia, I want it--
[And what is it, exactly, that she wants so badly? More of that sweet pleasure wrought by Cellinia's fingers, to which her body reacts so enthusiastically? Mai is pathetically close to the edge, tightening around her lover's ceaseless thrusts, the friction making sweet cries spill easily from her lips now. It's the obvious answer, of course-- but just as likely is her yearning to witness Cellinia make good on these cursed vows. The absolute desperation for it is such that it threatens to make her vision go white, splattered with the dark red of blood, however Cellinia might desire to spill it. What would it take, to kill them all, repay their atrocities, free herself-- and her sister, too-- from their oppressive hold? Could she truly experience it for herself in this life?
Her voice rises in a pitiful whine from these needy pleas, and her nails scrape their way haphazardly down the expanse of Cellinia's back, leaving angry red lines across the ferocious visage of a wolf. They're not deep enough to draw blood, but perhaps they might smart a bit once the adrenaline of their passion abates. But Cellinia can take it, can't she? Her strong and relentless wolf is better than whatever scrapes Mai might ever hope to leave upon her flesh.]
P-Please.
[Oh-- there it is. Fuck, who's the ruined one, now? She never would have imagined that she'd be reduced to this, to begging-- but she's already fallen into this quicksand made of love and death and it's swallowing her whole, filling her lungs and mind and heart with violent delights. Mai desires it as much as she fears it, because she knows that it's not an impossibility. It frightens her to depths she never knew existed, because she doesn't think that she can ever go back to pretending that this 'what if?' is simply a game of make-believe. She truly can have whatever her wicked and broken little heart could desire-- because Cellinia would do anything she asked.]
(their kiss is graceless, a far cry from the manners that they were raised with. the ocean which threatens to drag them down to its endless depths doesn't scare cellinia. what scares her most is how real this feeling is against this ruined and bruised heart that mai wants to keep no matter such cruelties between them. how they're bitter, how they're ruined. who else but them could understand while the ocean dyes itself crimson? the rain that buries them in it, the desert that takes every drop of water given to it like a wonderful gift. a gift in which it was never allowed to have while blooming about twisted greenery. darker vows, darker promises. violence which lies underneath the skin of a wild beast. untamed by those who dared to try, allowing only one person to take from it that precious trust it so rarely gives. a wild beast and a wounded one is always a terrible thing for those that were sane, some might have even tried to change her due to belief they'd fix this poor thing.
they'd think wrong in how this handsome wolf would have melted to her lover's lips amidst the corpses left behind from her rampage on her command. how she'd covered in blood and wild, would have touched her without care for the lifeless and soulless eyes that stared. she'd touch her dearly, make them curse them from whatever fiery fate awaited them as the beautiful and magnificent beast left her claim. her permanent claim in blood, in death and rebirth. nobody could stop her from having this girl. the baser part of her mind, the animal part, demands she does so much as keep her to itself. that nobody should take what was claimed and marked as her own. because that is another thing about wounded beasts, they don't dare to let go of what precious little they may ever have in those bloody hands of theirs.
that power is mai's. if she felt them undeserving, who is cellinia to question that about those monsters she imagined? about cellinia's hands in their dangerous touch, keeping them from daring to ever believe they could keep them apart? she doesn't speak. not for now, not as common sense fades to carnal delights. the violent life she once lived being used to happily rid this world of what shackles that a girl who was used and destroyed far more by whatever wretched monsters were out there had. the ones who thought themselves superior, who rotted everything down to their very core when she hears it.
that note of desperation, her sighs shaky in response into this gracelessly filthy kiss. there is no going back, there is no saving their poor souls which demand one another. cellinia gives this devotion to a girl who has nothing left. an anchor as their minds and hearts play pretend that love had nothing to do with these words, these promises. it's far too late for them to know, to ever understand that love has poisoned them all the same. they'd never be the same as it ruins them more than they could ruin one another. it will tear them apart and remake them, their jagged edges fit perfect together as it grows into twisted vines and thorns. flowers that come from this moment where they speak freely what it is they desire.
(i've been waiting in the dark so long, drifting through these halls. listening for your call....you could turn the lights back on. darling, don't you want me where i belong? the woman's voice begins another song. another familiarity.)
having something she could belong to, cellinia hasn't had that in quite some time. what little she has is hung by a thread. they count as something close, something like family. familial bonds, yet she didn't let them in this fragile heart of hers, what remains of it. all while her worn, rough fingers pump deep into her lover. to give her more of those sweeter delights. she would have lovingly put you back together, mai, letting you be remade into feeling more free than this. sharing her own, perhaps, her own shards as you both leave behind everything. everything fading to blood, fire, and the demise she promises those fools.)
I'll give it to you.
(from how close her lover is, cellinia can tell. the desperation, the desire for that freedom, and how needy she must feel. she'd end them. it wouldn't be anything pretty, nor would there ever be any going back from this line they've crossed. they'd die horribly for the cardinal sin of hurting this girl. this girl who chased a wolf into her den, who scratches pretty red lines against the inked skin of that terrifying wolf's snarl along her back. she'll take it upon her shoulders to grant that freedom she so sweetly deserves. she won't let anyone have mai while shielding her from the rotten remains of this world.
who needs to think too much about more than that? she'd wear those scratches like she'd wear the teeth and bruises decorating her body. even if they did or didn't draw blood, she'd wear them and be unfazed by what pain rises from it. she can handle it, her body has been battered by more than that when those slits in her eyes almost dilate at the plea. it stirs again, the urge to sink her teeth in that pretty neck. to leave a mark that would stake her more permanent claim. that claim, which would not be contested, that this girl is only hers. ah, she wants to. she really, really do....no, her reasonable side has a better idea. though it is mixed with her vows, her own desires against the instincts of a wild beast.
what if she did it after freeing this girl? or even better, what if that is the prize on the table? not only did mai have her chance to keep this wolf forever, but to carry a mark from her? that is the highest of honors, would you like that, mai? at the end of the tunnel waits this girl who would make you forever hers in how she'd tenderly sink her teeth in your neck? this is scary, frightening. there is no doubt about that. they're a pair of ruined girls who were already torn apart by the world. so, who else but someone who knows ruin too well should be the one to give one another everything and the world for the one they want most? cellinia would offer it in blood and desire, in however mai may ever want it. that in itself....is also terrifying.)
[How sinful of them, to delight in the prospect of such cruelties with no one the wiser. It's only these four walls and the slivers of moonlight that bear witness to the crimes these two might dare to commit if forced to the brink of insanity. That's what this is, isn't it? Only those who have lost their minds would dare entertain the thought of obliterating such an enduring pillar of society, no mater how clandestine. This pillar is ruthless, after all, and their influence is seemingly perpetual, unshakable no matter what ill omen would befall them. If the Zen'in had any sense, they would have done away with this terrible girl as soon as they realized that she was worthless-- for here Mai is, having completely lost her mind as she nearly offers herself to a corrupt 'savior' in exchange for her family's demise.
It's insidious, the way that the pleasure springing forth from imagining such a violent fate for them spreads its roots and burrows deep, deep within her very soul. There's no way she would be able to rip them all out, now-- these roots pulse so deliciously with violent ecstasy that she might've feared that some sick addiction was born tonight. An obscene dependency on a euphoria that Mai would hate to find herself chasing, though she already knows that her rotten heart soaks it up like it had been parched for such an indulgence. This heart of hers, so mercilessly ripped to shreds by those who were supposed to cherish her, is being stitched back together oh so lovingly by the twisted promises of a dark wolf that she's desperate to claim for her own, even if Mai is the one who will be the prize, here. It's fine-- she hasn't forgotten, after all, that they both had promised themselves to one another, long before such promises were soaked so thoroughly with blood.
'When I die, don't dig my grave Save me from this empty life 'til our souls are intertwined'
Somewhere beneath Mai's ragged panting and loud, broken whimpers that drench the walls of Cellinia's room, a man's crooning voice sings the fate of these world-weary lovers. Perhaps their souls were intertwined long before today, perhaps every misfortune and every atrocity they had suffered up until now was simply Fate paving the roads of their lives until they would inevitably meet, becoming one. What else could describe the way that the more traitorous, lonelier parts of their hearts call out to each other without words, and answer just the same?
'Only you can change my fate Baby, leave it all behind, bе the reason I survive'
Oh, Cellinia-- you must already have some suspicion that you might be the only path that Mai has to surviving this life. For it's only a matter of time before something snatches her life away, be it disgusting curses or a malicious father who can't wait to clean his hands of such a stain upon his prestige. Would it be worth it to you, beautiful wolf, to change the fate of one deeply cursed girl? Her heart already feels as if it's being contorted just for you, twisting and tightening even more as she endures the breathtaking feeling of those fingers hitting a certain sweet spot inside of her, threatening to send her tumbling into a chasm that she'll never be able to escape from. Her cries become more strained, more desperate, and they quickly drown out the music as she hastens towards her peak courtesy of Cellinia's touch. Having those pretty eyes so close to her this time is what really does it for her, she thinks-- but she's not as strong-willed as Cellinia is, for when Mai finally climaxes, she can't help but squeeze her eyes shut in the overwhelming sensation, letting the stars forming behind her eyelids drown her in their brilliance. God, she doesn't think she's ever come this hard before, with her body wracked by such powerful tremors while she spasms strongly around Cellinia's lovely fingers. It's enough to make her forget that they're not in the privacy of some off-road clearing in the countryside, this time-- that there are people around who might be hearing them enjoy each other so sinfully. Ah, well, hopefully no one is listening too closely... ]
Cellinia...
[Thoroughly spent and still trembling, Mai breathes out her lover's name in a tone replete with adoration. Her vision begins to clear, and she blinks up at Cellinia with eyes that shine with a sweet bliss, the hints of tiny, teary droplets gathering along her lashes. Between heavy, uneven breaths, Mai offers her mouth to Cellinia's in messy kisses. Any tension within her body has melted splendidly, rendering her feeble beneath her wolf's body still pinning her against the mattress. Realizing that she's still gripping harshly at Cellinia's back, Mai relaxes her hands and starts to rub soothingly up and down her spine, letting her aching fingers brush against the base of her lover's tail before trailing up to between her shoulder blades.
Words fail her in this moment. In truth, she'd rather continue sharing kisses with Cellinia than dare try to put her jumbled thoughts into anything coherent. What could she say, after those filthy and vicious promises made to her as she fully surrendered to euphoria? Cellinia declared that it is Mai's own word that would decide if she would give into her beastly nature and tear apart a great number of human lives. Could Mai do it, could she give the order-- even if it was absolutely merited? It was too much to think about in her current state. And, despite this exchange of theirs being far from make-believe at this point, she hopes that Cellinia wouldn't demand an answer from her so soon. Let it settle quietly, becoming another layer of the gorgeously corrupted affection blooming between them... for now.]
(the issue with girls like them is that they would have never known peace. sinful pleasures, darker desires, it didn't matter to them. a pair of girls rejected by this world, this cruelty they indulge in themselves. cellinia doesn't speak any further. their bodies are pressed together while she so sweetly speaks about this desire. this unending urge of violence and a wicked need for what some would surely have been mortified about in the pleasure she gives this girl. hearts like theirs should have been tossed aside and crushed by those who broke them, those who had found themselves too willing to end what little peace that they may or may not have in their horrible lives they lived. what she gives mai is herself, at the end of this they were the prizes of one another while seeking to not let go of what had been that intense need to cling close to the other. that need which hasn’t faded once without realizing in their passions shared, in the way they give in to instinct and crave the other’s body deeply. she has a canvas mai calls perfect, a canvas which she digs those soft and dainty fingers into the back of. nails pressed to skin like marking another spot as hers in how they rake those red lines. the red lines that cellinia wouldn’t be fazed by as part of their affections. she would be the savior of this girl in something so decidedly terrible that many would be attempting to stop these girls from their insanity. claiming that they shouldn’t wish or demand death upon other men and women for their own sins. to that, cellinia would only ignore them and their ignorance. she would end whatever this girl wishes. the nameless monsters she thought about as the wolf gave her pleasure, included.
this pleasure is a violent sort, darker and bloody. ready to drown them in it were they to be so ignorant to pretend that they were in control of it beyond that trust given. what cellinia does is touch her. what she would do is make sweeter love to her when all is said and done, whether covered in their tainted blood or not. they could watch in hell where they belonged alone the sight of their neglected kin being taken by the big bad wolf. this sick addiction of theirs wouldn’t be going away is another thing, not in how receptive they both were to the bloody picture mai would imagine. especially not in how cellinia so kindly provided the picture herself by readily agreeing that she would give this girl the highest honor by allowing her to be the one to decide if they were to die. she isn’t impatient enough to push for death so soon, so fast. as a predatory being, she knows patience. she knows restraint. mai wouldn’t need to worry about the wolf making demands for plans, everything, so soon without her giving a more serious claim on her wish to see those bastards she imagined dead. she promised this girl her heart, she promised her something more than they would dare to give her. that was something akin to love and it’s warmth. her tender touch, her lips barely parting for long from mai’s own in between each kiss. they lack the decorum of refined ladies, but that’s fine for them.
no point in showing it when they’re giving one another something that would make those pitiful ladies in societies both girls were and are a part of appalled and mortified. what good did being that way do for them? it only added to that mess that they weren’t good enough in the eyes of men who desired to own them. to control them like marionettes who didn’t deserve their freedom, their own choices in what they are. what they are capable of while excepted to be more of something they’re not. here, cellinia does not demand it of mai. what she gives her is those breathless kisses with a trail of saliva following in connection between their lips for each brief parting in how messy they’re getting.
(bring me back to life, even if the sun don’t rise, yeah. fill my lungs, feel the blood flowing through my veins.)
it’s better this way, for them. that the sun fades away, that what light they get is from one another. that any warmth is shared in tender affection given. mai’s voice calls out to the wolf beautifully as she watches intently the way her lover cries those broken whimpers and whines. she soothes her with quiet shushes in return, gentle and almost soft in how she murmurs for her that she’s doing good. who knows what awaits them, if what happened in their lives to make them this way would be worth it all. that their traitorous hearts, soul, and bodies had no desire to let go of someone who knew their pain. their suffering, they know in two sides of the same coin with its differences. cellinia in how she came from a life of dirty deeds destroying many men, many women, for the name of family. that family is what would decide their living or dying. no matter how good they were at their work, this “business” that they were all part of comprised of wicked misdeeds and crueler sins than the sweet poetry she whispered to this little red riding hood of hers. this girl she looks at like a goddess, her own goddess she wouldn’t let go of for anything in devotion, with those searing eyes. the amber of them shining in the darkness, highlighted by the moon lighting her bedroom for mai to have all to herself.
(wake me up with your love again.)
but she tells herself again, this isn’t love. this shouldn’t be love. yet why did it feel so close to something they’d never once wished for themselves again after losing it? she did have her thoughts, her feelings. her wishes to not lose this girl if she can help it. cellinia maybe even realized subconsciously, without ever knowing, that their similarities are so strong that she might have even seen mai eventually disappear before her eyes. this curse can be only something cellinia did not care about, this dark wolf who whisks her lover away in what she gives her. she would keep you near, beautiful girl. beautiful goddess. it didn’t matter who tried to stop her, she wouldn’t let go of you. she’d make those who dared to curse her pay for their grave sins in how she were treated when or if that day ever came. she’d change your fate into something more lovely. something more tantalizing than what they intended for her.
mai cries out sharply, those desperate cries and how they strained into lovelier notes than the music is another thing she commits to memory. she watches her while her fingers, no matter their roughness, gives attention to that sweet spot while mai grows louder. her peak reached while the wolf eases her slowly down from it from her relentless rhythm becoming something slower, something softer. if any nosy neighbors grow curious, she’d ignore them, as she’s always done. cellinia wouldn’t tell them what happened in the first place. let them hear it. their sinful wants, their needs which had laid dormant from this fire hot passion they feel. the darker desires of it before cellinia parts their lips again for mai to breathe.
though not before she stares at her wordlessly when she speaks with adoration her name, her free hand cups her lover’s cheek. a gentle caress of it in response of affections they’ve both been giving each other freely. the messy kisses fade to something slow, albeit still messy. the tension in her back eases to mai's hands rubbing into the skin to soothe the marks she left, those scratches which she'd not even mind having. her tail shifts to be closer to her side for the rub of her soft fingers along the base of it. she won't demand mai's answer on her wishes, not any time soon. that promise if it ever comes to fruition would not be tonight or at all during the coming days. only the affections this wolf has for her goddess would be there. her little red riding hood she kisses so sweetly while she comes down from this wave of pleasure.)
[It seems as if the promise of rain upon this lonely desert is beckoning a deluge of blood to join alongside it. There's no escaping the storm that Fate ordains, and if She demands that agony and torment be repaid in blood, then who is Mai to dare stand against a will greater than her own? She had known long ago that it was pointless to challenge destiny-- after all, had she any say in the matter, would she have chosen for her soul and heart to be split in two, leaving them perpetually half-formed and completely reviled? For as long as she's been aware of it, Mai knew she was forever destined to cling to a 'half' that would never truly make her whole. She knew that she was powerless to even try to keep it by her side in her cage, wrought of disappointment and fear. So, if she didn't even have the strength to consider herself complete the way she was, a feat so foreign to her that it's near unfathomable, then she can only accept that her sole choice here is to surrender herself as thoroughly as she can to Fate's whim. She isn't like her sister, thinking herself mighty enough to twist misfortune into glory. And yet, look-- this stupid impulsiveness that is all her own has netted her a golden chance that Maki could only dream of. Fancy that, the delusion borne of one determined half of this fragmented soul might one day be realized in the other, driveless half.
She'll keep it to herself, of course. Mai couldn't possibly tell Cellinia that bringing this clan of monsters to their knees was a fantasy she had heard countless times in her youth. And she couldn't admit to her that she stopped believing it after witnessing, experiencing what those monsters are capable of. Granted, her sister's dream was decidedly less violent than Cellinia's vows, spoken as easily as she breathed-- but what if this dream was always meant to be bathed in blood? A prestigious family tree, painted with strokes of crimson still warm with life. Mai had long since lost faith in Maki, who left her to fend for herself, surely knowing that she would fail. And yet a fragile part of her heart, a piece she believed to be atrophied beyond repair, dares to believe in the pledges of a handsome stranger who has already sunk her teeth into Mai's rotten, half-formed heart. She doesn't belong to the Zen'in anymore, she doesn't belong to Maki, she doesn't even belong to herself. If Cellinia sees her fit to claim as a prize, if she wanted to satisfy a quiet bloodlust with her family as payment, then Mai won't stop her, either. Just as her kin might have always been destined for this bloodied end, Mai was always meant to find her solace in someone who would make her feel cherished and whole. Fate weaves these threads as She sees fit.
And what a curious and wondrous turn of events, that such a foolish, hopeless girl might get to claim quite the magnificent prize for herself in this wolf. This devoted, beautiful wolf who has utterly ruined her, just as she promised that she would. It was always destined, wasn't it, that Cellinia would best Mai so splendidly? Her intense affection wipes clean the fingerprints that anyone else had so carelessly left upon Mai. Any proof of their existence is stamped out in breathless kisses, in those soothing hushes and tender reassurances that set her nerves alight with unfamiliar exhilaration, in the agonizingly sweet way her fingers slow once the waves of pleasure crash hard over Mai's entire body. Whatever cruel taunts and heartless insults anyone has ever buried her in is drowned out by the whispered promises that offer them to an altar of a love that rouses itself from a profound slumber and demands to be sated.
A deep fissure has split Mai's pride in two-- and really, it has happened too often in her life already-- but this time, it's something that she can never again reconcile. Oh, Cellinia. How lucky and unlucky Mai is to have crossed paths with you. In a single night, everything has changed, and it scares her. Does it frighten you, as well, sweet wolf?
'Take my hand, don't let me slip into thin air Bring me back to life'
The way her heart still races, hammering against her ribs and echoing in to Cellinia's chest, it's all the proof the Mai needs that she is alive, alive again. Because she had absolutely died a little death by Cellinia's capable hands, crushed and shattered in ways that put to shame the brute force inflicted upon her by the shadowy monsters. They had broken her and left her to scrounge around in the dark for the pieces, tending to the wounds alone while she tried to build herself back up, never quite getting it right. She had become something far from the innocent and carefree youth who would have devoted her whole life to existing at the bottom, so long as she had the second half of her soul to complete her. They had taken it all away from her, leaving her unrecognizable even to herself. And yet, look how prettily these shards of hers glimmer for Cellinia, after she's ushered her to the top like this. The arduous task of reconstructing herself need not be fulfilled by Mai, this time-- and even if she were to still remain unrecognizable at the end of it, as long as Cellinia would still look upon her with such adoration, then Mai would be all too happy to leave every failed iteration of herself behind.
As her breathing begins to calm down, the last few notes of the song mark its conclusion, leaving them in a brief silence before the next melody begins to fill the void. All the while, the soft sounds of their slow kisses are all that Mai desires to pay attention to, their breaths mingling whenever their lips part for air. In the back of her hazy mind, Mai feels a tingle of amusement at Cellinia's reaction to her touch, and languidly traces her fingers down her spine once more to busy them with the dampened fluff of her tail. Another reminder that she lays with a pretty beast, though one that calls to mind a loyal companion rather than a bloodthirsty predator. The moments that she takes to come down from her high pass by without haste, and everything that brought her to her peak-- satisfying touches and intoxicating promises-- leaves her body humming pleasurably in the aftermath. Their flesh clings together from the sweat of their efforts, and the wet strands of Cellinia's hair spills over her shoulders, a curtain that leaves the sheets beneath Mai even more damp. She doesn't mind all that much, though. When she finally musters up the energy to speak, her voice is slightly rasped and weary from her earlier exclamations.]
I... [A slow, drawn-out sigh. She nuzzles into Cellinia's hand caressing her cheek, and a brief look of wariness crosses her features while she debates whether or not to speak her feelings aloud.] I really like the way you look at me...
[Despite Mai clinging in vain to the last bit of reluctance to admit defeat, her bleary eyes say it all. Cellinia can keep her forever. She already has a part of Mai that she can never retrieve again, a fact that this girl is painfully aware of. Yes, she's thoroughly ruined, tamed and made docile by a beast, of all things! Ah, the absurdity of it all is but another sip of that sweet poison that her tongue is happily, greedily accustomed to. Well done, Cellinia... ]
(eventually, there would be death. the blood, which would mix into the storm. the blooming of this desert into something more is only part of what shall be a possibility. that didn’t need anything more than the offered deliverance, the promises, these vows whispered in reverent devotion. she’d give to her this promised rain. let her become whole. she would offer the pieces of her own soul if it means her lover could ever feel something more than the soul crushing agony they’ve wrought upon her. cellinia doesn’t show hatred, she offers something more than that. something which poisons them further beyond the rot of their hearts, their still beating hearts that have yet to give out despite the agonizing ruin that’s been given to them by the world. by what once was their fate in some ways, a fate which cellinia broke free from by force while charging into the fray. she brought upon her shoulders the destined end of one bloodline. all it took was her finally making the first step. that step had been done with the singular push of a father deciding that he had enough. the rest? the rest was only justice. justice given, justice demanded. revenge was something most would dream about, but never take themselves while waiting for the day that they may have it. be it in blood, or this rotten and slow death offered by the world. sometimes, it didn’t even go the way they want and would end with the other party better off than ever. but there was nothing that could be done about the world, and it’s infuriating desire to reward those who do not deserve that by giving them more in life. more than the person wronged could ever have. this is no opportunity that mai’s dear sister could have ever had at her fingertips. this is a chance solely for the one girl who flirted on a whim with her. with a wolf that decided she wanted to keep her to herself, if she could ever help that.
this clan of nameless monsters could only be given their swift end in fire. they’d burn away that same way that she ended her own bloodline. the sight of them fading to the unexpected, a dark and handsome stranger offering more than they’d ever imagine. that faith can be placed in her to end it all as wished. to give her that desire for revenge that waits within her heart that her own blood had been unable to fulfill by hopelessly chasing what she thought best to change the clan for the sake of her sister. her teeth sinks deep in that rot and poison from what remains of mai’s heart. she would give this girl what vows they’d all never have offered themselves. this sinful dream of bloody death and crimson which fades to the touch of one being that would show them no mercy. she gives her a mercy in her kiss, in hands which had seen so much death that touches her like a finer treasure than she’s had in her own miserable life. who else but them may ever understand and know that vows should not be given lightly, that they’d give them to the one they desired most. the rest would never know those things they whisper, the mercies on their tongues while they drown in poison and ruin mutually shared between their mouths. their hearts that never had felt this alive in quite some time between what had been a whim started between them.
the slow thrust and strokes of those worn fingers ease her lover down from this high, the brush of them deep and tender in their movements. this beautiful wolf. this darling wolf that mai demands in her own want as her own prize, gives to her on this altar they make of her bed. her bed which is covered in soggy sheets, the remaining droplets dripping down from hair and tail while that curtain of long black and red hair settles around mai and cellinia’s face. tender affections are given, the brush of fingertips against her lover’s cheek with each sweet caress of it. this bed has become in general her altar, an altar of offerings made up of love and all the things that they never had from their lives. her mouth whispering sweet words while mai’s head knits itself together in tenderly soft brushes of their lips.
it frightens her, it truly does, darling little red riding hood. that she can feel this way. that she could offer that demise so readily, so naturally. the altar of love and lust, devoted whispers into wishes she would grant by the word of her lover when she pleases. she feels it, afraid of what it means. that fear which would always be there between them mixed into their darker thoughts, their darker feelings that couldn’t fade themselves with ease. do you also think it fitting, mai? that a wolf could find it in herself to know too well all the things that were best kept hidden away while you pretended to function, to live? a twist of fortune, in both luck and not so lucky. everything is different in the way they pushed forward through the lines that blurred in the sand the moment that the wolf accepted seeing her.
anyone who got in the way would only learn, she doesn’t share. she won’t share. not this girl that she touched with merciful tenderness. with a softness that could only be found from wounded beasts. keeping close what precious little they have is only part of their needs, in how they would snap their jaws on those daring enough to believe they can rip away the one who made them whole again. how swift she’d end them, making them bleed while protecting this girl in her den as the beast that she is. there was no changing that, a beast is a beast. wild, threatening, and all too willing to kill those that touched what they claimed as being theirs. they never learn. not at any time while the wolf would never stop how she looks at her, those devoted and searing eyes. the amber of them glimmering for her in this dimly lit room in soft, tender, devotion fed to a starved goddess.
they’re alive. mai, even is alive. at her touch, at the feeling of their hearts thrumming together in sync out of their chests. the music changes, and she’s not paying it any attention, her lips are against mai’s own. when she rebuilds herself, cellinia won’t ever look away from her. together they’d be there. together. with that devotion she readily gives her, that worship and adoration of mai that never faded away once in this love they know not that they offer one another from their twisted perception of it. their understanding of one another down to what remains of their mangled souls, their ruined hearts. what remains shall be rebuilt, they can do that much while willing away those wretched monsters that dared to believe they could taint her dear goddess again.
her breathing eases, but the kisses retain their slow and tender affection. the soft mix of their breaths while cellinia strokes mai’s cheek. her eyes, half closed and melting into it. the pretty beast becoming a loyal wolf, protective and willing to keep her safe in whatever way that it can. as well as receptive, funnily enough, to affections given when her damp tail would have wrapped itself around mai if not for how they’re positioned. like another safe anchor to their world that they gradually make into a new reality. as frightening as it is. their bodies fit together perfect as ever, covered in sweat from heated efforts and both mixed with soft and rough skin. inked and not inked while cellinia looks at her lover. she’s patient, not rushing her to speak, either. earlier was a lot, wasn’t it? even her second wind is wearing off as tiredness gnaws at her mind.)
....I doubt I could ever stop looking at you like this.
(she'll admit it, fine. they both would not be speaking of this to any other poor souls. no need. she doubts she could ever want to belong to anyone else, well done yourself, mai. this beast might still be wild, but she is all yours to hold. to keep the missing pieces of while cherishing her the way that only two broken and greedy souls could in offered poisonous affections that taste so divine.)
[If revenge shall be the blade that Mai would forge, then let Cellinia be the knight who wields it in her stead. Let the danger of this gallant wolf's pedigree, the same danger she had dared to vanquish with her own two hands, act as the shadow that swallows these monsters alive. In the end, the idea of justice was always such a twisted thing— those who boasted the most power would always be the arbiters of where those scales should tip. For far too long, the monsters have gorged themselves on the pride afforded by that power, becoming bloated with ruthlessness under the guise of honor. True justice will come for them all, won't it? Not a single soul will be left untouched by it, not even her own, nor Cellinia's. Perhaps even this dark vow of theirs is but another perversion of justice, a price negotiated too effortlessly for the gravity of their 'justice' to be felt in its entirety. Would mercy be given to these sinful girls after they've manipulated the scales to tip in their own favor?
In the end, Mai will contend with the possibility of having to pay a price all her own for this promise exchanged between them. Even if it this path is decreed by Fate, it doesn't mean that someone like her merits the sacrifice of numerous lives, one prestigious cage traded for the den of a beast who would wish to keep her all the same. Not even Cellinia might be able to stand against Fate when Mai is marked for her role in this sin. But when that day comes— if it ever does— then Mai can steel herself for this reckoning. Of course, she'll greedily hoard every bit of affection that she is able to until then, and wear it like a brilliant mantle, one very unworthy girl made into a goddess by a single, devoted worshipper. Perhaps she might even be able to plead with Fate to spare her beautiful wolf and lay their sins solely upon Mai's shoulders. What a thought— that she would ever have the fortitude to make such a declaration. Ah, Cellinia's romantic tendencies are leaving their influences upon Mai, aren't they?
Their heartbeats have fallen into a welcome rhythm, the pulsing of one becoming the complimentary echo of the other. They inhale each other, exhale each other deeply, kiss as if they have all the time in the world. Their lips meet, part, and meet again as if these kisses are infinite, borne of a sweetness far beyond them, though a sweetness that is generous enough to give these lovers a taste for the night. Such a magnificent altar they have made of this bed, and of one another's bodies. Mai dares to let one of her hands drift between her legs where Cellinia's fingers have slowed into the most tender of movements, slowed to almost a halt. She cups her palm over her lover's hand there, and quietly marvels at how they're one this way. It's as if her body was made for every testament of Cellinia's devotion that she had bestowed upon Mai thus far. At the wolf's ever-endearing admission, Mai laughs softly and brings her other hand to rub those fluffy ears with an open fondness.]
You're seriously gonna rot me with all of those sweet words, Cellinia.
[There's hardly any bite or even soft mockery in her words. Mai is sweetly agreeable from the exhaustion after such a pleasurable evening, and the soft kiss she presses to Cellinia's cheek conveys as much. The loyalty glowing richly in her lover's eyes, anchoring Mai all the more steadfastly to her side, even brings a genuine smile to the girl's lips. Despite the fears that each of them may carry at the prospect of their budding, dark devotion to one another, Mai indeed finds it all too fitting that Cellinia can recognize the parts of her that are so tired of pretending, tired of struggling, the parts of her that want to be loved, even if it's to the point of being spoiled by this love.]
But it's fine— I think I get it, now. You really like your girls rotten.
[There really is no flavor quite like it, is there? The taste of something that once bore such promise, only to be left forgotten in the dark, untouched by everything save for the passage of time. Attractive flesh could only take one so far, when the spirit beneath was so thoroughly spoiled. Anyone else would recoil at the sight of such pretty decay, treading around or even upon it in favor of reaching to pluck something pure and pristine, instead. Mai was used to it, being overlooked for something better, something with more potential. Whatever sections of her still palatable were devoured secretly, while those same lips would denounce her rottenness to the world. Where was the lie, and where was the truth? She had long stopped asking, and accepted that she was unsalvageable. Yet Cellinia doesn't balk at the taste, and can't seem to get her fill of this peculiar flavor upon her tongue— decay and loneliness. She must recognize it, something nostalgic found in the taste of their kisses. Only someone who has lived such a loneliness herself would seek it out again and again. From the small peeks of her solitary life that she's been given, Mai can tell that solitude had never ceased its possessive embrace of Cellinia, even if its arms wrap themselves around her less oppressively, these days.
Those beloved eyes that watch her wear the beginnings of a fatigue that mirrors Mai's own. The satisfaction, the protection that steeps in their amber depths is splendid, putting to rest whatever troubles dance on the periphery of Mai's tired mind. If not for the discomfort that waking up upon cold sheets would give her later, she wouldn't have protested dozing off right here where she lay. That little quip of hers comes around to taunt her— no sleeping over on the first date. Well, it's not as if this bed is in any state for proper sleeping after they've soaked it like this, is it now? She hasn't the motivation to fix up any linens in her state, but fortunately this isn't the only space where she might rest her head. Besides, is there much harm if she simply closes her eyes for fifteen minutes, an hour? Cellinia should have no problem making room on that couch of hers for both of them, and Mai can't imagine anything she'd enjoy more than to feel her arms around her while she dozes off. How many years have passed since she had last fallen asleep to such a comfort? How long has it been since the worries and the terrible dreams were kept at bay by something as simple as a protective embrace?
She can't guarantee that this vow between them is not merely an illusion, a spell that breaks with the coming of the dawn. But she doesn't think she can bring herself to stay awake long enough to see if this illusion disappears with her own eyes. If, in the end, she finds that she's lived a brief dream and that the wolf within her arms intends to drench her fangs in Mai's blood for a meal, then would she be troubled so terribly? The answer to that is foggy, layered, and hardly compelling. Besides, it's an answer that she would rather not even entertain, for she can feel it-- in the depths of her half-formed heart, she knows that she's something precious to Cellinia, a treasure that a beast might have wished for in her long, dark nights without repose.
She would be happier to wake and find that her wolf still adores her— would still kill for her— and then decide where the convoluted path drawn up by Fate will lead her, next.]
(justice is always fickle, in even the way that those who wish most for it could find themselves losing sight of what’s important to their hearts. their everything. not many would dare to surrender themselves for the sake of their vengeance, but there are always some who have decided that their lives are nothing in comparison to what once had been their halcyon days spent in joy and innocence. this family cares not for their flesh and blood, it despises love, and even wishes to tear apart those who saw fit to be born if they go against the mold. their “perfect” lineage. if asked, cellinia would end them. justice, revenge, it mattered little. the words were only used as excuses to most who knew nothing about the misery that those who were crushed by the weight of the world had faced. those who stay kind, stay soft in the face of it, cellinia has almost envied them. it takes a different strength to manage that against the odds, but even that falls apart at some point whenever everything becomes too much for their poor hearts. she’s grown up seeing it, she’s lived through it. a silver wolf who went from innocence to pointing a blade at her throat in desire to fight, a constant dance and it’s movements full of violent urges. the urges of a girl that wished to die, begging for that sole light in her life to be the one to end her life. to end what has been her own pain with her own two hands while claiming they’re the same. but this girl, this dark and handsome wolf who masquerades as something tamed, often tells herself that they are not the same, not in their ways they handle their pain. not in how they carry themselves while one lost herself to despair and the other almost became an emptier shell of a girl in the face of it.
this country they both were tied to by blood only served to destroy those unfortunate enough to share lineages from the fatherland who found it impossible to live the lives that those who were normal should be. is it really a sin to take matters into their own hands from a desire sparked by demanding their due? if someone had to pay a price in their promises whispered under the moonlight, their darker vows of offering blood in exchange for freedom while embracing one another tenderly in lust and in what they deny as love, then she would sooner not allow herself redemption than be without her, she would take those sins of her own while fading to the flames in a passionate kiss. because there is no denying it, this is how she is. this is how she’s always been with her utter refusal to dare let go of something despite herself. a contradiction in her methodology while claiming that she’s fine the way that she is when it’s proven tonight that she’s felt the same. she would fall to the sword, the fire, whatever it shall be that day it comes with a desire to never once be parted from her lover after finding that missing part of herself. the side of herself that had never resurfaced ever since those days spent in innocent youth which faded to that bloodshed which awaited her as she grew older. with swords in hand, she went forward. but that’s the other problem, one can only take so much blood before they fall apart. for this she offers herself, despite knowing it and her own heart that mai can feel the beat of would desire peace for them both if it can be helped. that it may never reach that point of justice, revenge, needing to be given out to others once again by her and her merciless hands with mai watching how frightening this wolf truly is.
their hearts are in sync, a steady pace as they ease from the excitement of their lust and adoration. the kisses are slow, idle, taken without care to think about the world outside with each brush of their lips. from how they breathe in one another slowly, their hands had done plenty in worship (for mai) and soft ruinous pleasure (for cellinia) while none were the wiser about what a pair of girls like them had done. this altar made up of her bed is where they start anew as the shattered pieces from glass and being torn apart mends together. bonding them down to their hearts, what remains of them. cellinia’s hand pauses, the one between mai’s legs does when her palm rests over the more calloused hand. she would have reached to grab it, but her fingers are a mess with her lover’s arousal. in a sense, it is like they’re one. they are. even with something as simple as cellinia’s skilled and battle-worn fingers coaxing those lovelier notes from her goddesses voice. her ears twitch at the fond brushes of mai’s fingertips against the fluff of them, soft as ever in how they ease down and melt to the affection offered to them.
rot her, is she? it’s more than that. these sweet words, they’re so pretty in how she whispers them. how she speaks them like poetry in the violence and the innocence. the lack of mockery wasn’t lost on the wolf, she’s more amused with herself. loyal eyes, so reverent in their desire and devotions. they glow in both the dark and in how they give her such delights. whether it’s their darker and worrisome thoughts or not. spoiling her with love that she never had, unfazed by the taste of loneliness and agony. the decay of long time suffering as they strip away from this girl everything she once had. bringing anew life into her as they say goodbye to what once was their days apart. fate meant little to her after her own prolonged years of suffering, but that wouldn’t stop her from going against it once again in how cellinia would stand in the fiery depths to not let mai burn alone. they both know, heaven has no place for girls like them who would make devils shiver from the sheer anguish they’ve gone through. it doesn’t stop her from blushing at the kiss to her cheek, although faintly.
she isn’t wrong, though. not about cellinia’s preferences, she did prefer girls like her. not because they’re rotten, but because she can connect with them too well. too easily. such as now with them finding out that what was a hookup felt further from true in the way they both were receptive to everything. from gentler touches of their bodies to this affection they hadn’t had as their own. if ever, truly. love starved hearts tend to demand more. want more, because they don’t always have this sweetness. the sweetness of adoration and those warm feelings that had been ripped away from their lives so easily. there was no purity in them, not beyond this warm feeling they give one another. beyond the way they remake themselves slowly with pieces shared between them.)
It’s that obvious?
(she murmurs it, pulling her hand slowly out from between mai’s legs with an apologetic glance. more for the fact it would feel empty without her touch than how long her hand was there, but she’s known this loneliness too well. just like mai. it might not ever loosen that oppressive grip it has upon her shoulders, not fully, but she allows this goddess who touched that solitude with her own to be close in the garden of thorns that would also bloom one day into something viciously beautiful between them. this taste of mai’s remains the sweetest she would ever have on her lips, the kind she savors while she licks clean her fingers. a little languid, tired, and considering to herself what to do. mai seems tired, more than anything. but that’s understandable, cellinia is much more active and sex itself can be demanding on a body from the physical aspect. didn’t matter who was doing what, both ends could come out tired and eventually sore. while mai dozes off cellinia, reluctantly, shifts to get out of bed. if only because she knows they couldn’t sleep there in soggy sheets that were filthy from their mutual arousal and shower gone terribly wrong.
she’s apologetic in her murmurs for their warmth being separated, but cellinia did take her into her arms. almost like a princess, a bride, in how she carries her out of the bedroom. the intended destination was the couch. purely because she’s not in the mood to change sheets from how tired she feels, the linens can wait until the morning when she sets her lover to lay down on the soft sofa first. there were pillows waiting and ready when her wolf takes hold of the blanket left at the end of it and moves to join her. all while covering them both in it, that way they can stay together more.
and that way, her arms fit around mai perfectly for more comfort. by the time they awaken, it likely won’t be any time early in the morning. those eyes won’t lose their reverence, their loyal devotion, either. her fondness is real, so is the feelings in her heart. that won’t fade away. not even as cellinia comfortably starts to doze off while hoping quietly to herself this isn’t another dream of her own. a terrible dream where she had something sweeter for once only for it to be ripped away.
she hopes, that when they awaken, that they can be free for a little longer. from all that shackles them, from everything.)
[Outside of their simmering promises of bloodshed and devotion, it would seem that the hearts of these two lovers are splendidly painted with the affectionate hues of two souls who have found their missing pieces in an unlikely stranger. Though, after sharing their bodies as well as the hints of a darker desire, they're far less strangers, now, aren't they? For the moment, Mai and Cellinia are a cobbled-together image of a pathetic princess and her disgraced knight. One day, perhaps, they might make this lovely picture something more honest, more brilliant and true. Nevertheless, it will never be something pure, for these two are far too tainted and rotten to ever taste the virtue they had lost ever again. But it doesn't seem to bother either one of them too terribly— the flavor of innocence is a rather bland one, and the dangerous love that poisons them sparks them to life wonderfully from the exhilarating spice of it.
'It's that obvious?' Cellinia dares to ask, and Mai stifles a snicker as she kisses her cheek again, secretly admiring her enjoyment of the little gesture— the faint blush that graces her face is not lost on Mai. Of course it's obvious, as it should have been the moment they dared cross a line out of sheer boredom. How were they to know that their broken edges would fall into place so surprisingly well? Surely, boredom was merely a veneer to cloak something deeper, something lonelier that would have always compelled them to have acted a bit recklessly. If not one another, it might have been anyone else, no? Certainly something quick, forgettable, just enough to stave away the terrors that loom behind them but for a single evening— as it ought to have been tonight. Yet how often had they met anyone willing to endure their thorns long enough to taste the nectar of their harshly-begotten blooms? Perhaps they both half-recognized the lonesomeness in their cheeky interaction, daring to stare it down until it revealed itself to be the same, sad decay that was feeding upon them both.
But Cellinia had asked, besought Mai to haunt her long after this rendezvous of theirs finishes, vowing to do the same. The deed is already done, the vow fulfilled without fanfare. They've woven themselves into one another's essences from the pleasure wrought tonight, the swell of ecstasy they surrendered themselves to. Suffocated beautifully by these little deaths, the two of them have become the ghosts they were always meant to be— and by each other's daring hands, not those of the devils who sired them. A deep breath passes Mai's lips when Cellinia withdraws herself, only for a sharp inhale to take its place when she watches her lover lap the sticky arousal coating her fingers from a job well done. The spectacle of it is curious, fascinating in a way that makes Mai want to tease her for it, but the words fail to surface. Instead, she softly chews at the inside of her lip while she stares, wondering to herself if this big bad wolf will ever find herself satisfied after devouring this girl she has charmed into her den.
In spite of the fatigue weighing all the more heavily, Mai is awake enough to appreciate her pretty wolf scooping her up so nobly and whisking her away from the discomfort of the ruined bed sheets. She snakes her arms around Cellinia's neck and buries her face in her shoulder, laughing softly at the gallantry of the act. Her lover's hands fit securely, perfectly around her torso and behind her knees, and she feels like something properly treasured as they bid farewell to the bedroom.
Compared to the bed, or any bed, the couch is acceptable at best. At the very least, it's dry and already half made-up to imitate a suitable sleeping spot, with the pillows and blanket scattered across the cushions. Mai loosens her hold enough for Cellinia to set her down gently, and through lidded eyes she watches her silhouette drift briefly towards the end of the sofa to retrieve the blanket to spread over the two of them once she finds her place beside her. They don't exchange words, not bidding one another a good night or the hope for sweet dreams, but Mai tilts her head up for one last sleepy kiss, wanting to taste Cellinia— taste a bit of herself upon Cellinia's tongue— before wrapping her arms around her waist, tangling their legs together, and nuzzling her face against her neck while her eyes finally drag shut for good. Thanks to their long, enthusiastic day spent with one another, sleep comes swiftly and easily enough. The security of Cellinia's arms and the quiet heartbeat beneath her warmth no doubt facilitate the descent into dreamless slumber.
There's only one instance when Mai stirs, and it is at dawn's beginning, when the blue-gray light of early morning filters in through the spaces in the living room windows. She can't be sure of exactly what rouses her, but in her groggy state, she almost imagines herself to be back at her family's estate for a moment— safe and warm and loved, a long-forgotten feeling that somehow envelops her again, but in a way that's far different from those days marked by youth's innocence. She blinks slowly, her eyes adjusting to the dim light, and the realization of where she is settles upon her in a manner that wakes her just a bit further. Instead of the remnants of incense mingling with cypress growing around the manor, the faint notes of tobacco and cologne greet her in their place. And instead of a big sister who turns away at some point in the night, forcing space between them, Mai is still wrapped in the embrace of a sleeping wolf's inked limbs, a beautiful lover ceaselessly protecting her throughout the night.
She shifts just enough to look upon Cellinia's sleeping face for several moments. Mai watches her breathe in and out, lets her eyes take in the strange serenity of her visage, the occasional fluttering of her eyelashes against her cheeks, her brow furrowing periodically as well. Their lips are close enough that their breaths mingle, and Mai feels a desire to touch her in some manner, push the errant strands of hair from her face, anything— but she decides against it, not wishing to wake her, already worried that her quickly beating heart is loud enough to do the job. So, she shifts back ever so slightly, returning to her original place cuddled against Cellinia's chest, listening to her rhythmic heartbeat as she waits for sleep to claim her again. She remembers, though, the echos of the dark vows they had exchanged, and they tumble over and over in her mind. It makes her feel something, a strange tightening in her chest, but she's still sleepy enough for it to remain dulled, less urgent, and eventually her eyes close for another bout of sleep in spite of this feeling.
By the time Mai truly awakens, it's past noon already, and in her half-asleep state, she hears the familiar pinging of her phone receiving messages, the sound faint from wherever she left it along with her revolver. Eyes still shut, she grumbles softly and doesn't bother hurrying to rise from her comfortable position.]
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Date: 2025-04-01 04:30 am (UTC)If Cellinia had any idea about the manner of guest she was entertaining, would she still feel so honored? She's but had a taste of Mai's acerbic bite, and though she seemed to take it in stride thus far, what's to say that another meeting wouldn't sour her against the more treacherous shadows chomping at the bit to lash out against anyone who gets too close? Because there isn't a good heart beneath that lovely skin, dear wolf. There isn't a shred of pleasant company in this girl's character. She's merely a love-starved disappointment that is running away from today's self-loathing, hiding under a beast's pelt until it realizes its folly and decides that not even a rotten heart would suffice for its meal. It makes her bristle at the mere thought, of what would possibly be the breaking point for a woman as dangerous in her appearance as Cellinia. Ah, but what a pyrrhic victory it would be, then-- to have broken a beast without using up a lick of her energy, but then losing her forever, all the same.
Oh-- how she loathes these thoughts. There's always something that works its way into her head when she feels the most confident in her endeavors. Mai would be better off acting as if a future meeting would never occur between them, no matter how badly she might wish for it after tonight. No matter how badly she already wishes for it, even now, her greed and loneliness getting the better of her so soon. So, despite knowing better, she'll sink further into this illusion of theirs, pretending that they have all the time in the world, and pretending that she can actually believe in Cellinia's words-- that it truly is an honor to enjoy one another so lovingly.]
A good host, hm?
[There's mirth in the way she echoes Cellinia's declaration, and Mai's hands squeeze affectionately at her hips while she mulls over this assurance. How much better could Cellinia be for her? She has already given her so much-- funny, if what seems like generosity to Mai is, in fact, nothing to her gallant wolf. Though, if that is so, then it wouldn't hurt to take a little bit more, would it?
Besides, a 'good host' would offer stiff platitudes, ask about her family, pretend to show interest in her life over a cup of tea and the customary snacks. If they were really committed to the bit, they'd even smile at Mai, a smile that would never reach their eyes. These customs-- these human customs-- were such a joke. Merely a show of whatever manners were hammered into them by families who prided their image and respectability above any honest feelings.
Cellinia doesn't need to be a good host, not to Mai. All she needs to do is adore her for tonight, watch her with those passionate eyes, and help her forget the world she's escaping from.]
Well-- you'll lose points for interrupting my shower.
[And she twists the story again to suit her cheeky agenda. Mai knows perfectly well that she was every bit as responsible for why her shower was reduced to a mere rinsing off-- and that's a rather generous assessment. The moment she knew she wanted Cellinia with her there was the moment she knew that they'd get all the more filthy, in one way or another. She can't resist teasing her, nearly convinced that Cellinia might even enjoy it by now.]
But, I think I'll be happier once I'm fed.
[She can be easy to please, when it suits her! After all, it's frustrating to do anything of importance on an empty stomach. And this particular hunger runs pretty deep, having begun not long after they first allowed their hands to roam over one another's bodies in the exuberance of a new encounter. She would never admit it, but Mai felt a small pang of bashfulness after having given Cellinia such a display when the wolf had played the ravenous beast and enjoyed Mai's taste upon her tongue. The scales became imbalanced, and Mai just wasn't as thoroughly satisfied with claiming her lover through touch alone, despite how beautifully Cellinia groaned and sighed for her throughout.
This is better, far better, finally being able to savor her essence for herself. And this time, little red riding hood becomes the one who makes a meal of the big bad wolf. A rare wolf, in fact-- one who suggests being bound, one who promises to behave, to be oh so good for such a weak little captor. And Mai loves it, she affirms to herself while drinking her lover up in slow licks and gentle suckles. She loves how nothing needs to make sense here, in Cellinia's bed. The rest of the world can heed the rules they construct themselves (and Mai can lament any other day that she will forever fall short in such a rigid world), but she and her wolf can defy what the silly little fairy tales caution against. A wolf and a girl unraveling their worlds and discovering love tangled in the loosened thread-- it didn't need to make sense to a single soul outside of these two.
Mai hums in amusement at Cellinia slipping into her mother tongue again. She can only guess that her lover is rather pleased with Mai, right now, and is all too glad to keep her hazel eyes trained upon Cellinia's delicious expressions as she works her eagerly with her mouth. Once she's found her rhythm, her lips suckling at the sensitive places that Cellinia seems to enjoy most, she holds that perfect body beneath her closely-- one hand at her lover's thigh, and her other forearm firm across her lower abdomen, keeping her hips as still as she can manage to. Of course, Mai isn't dumb enough to think that she's all that strong, and that Cellinia couldn't overpower her whenever she wishes. Dangerous, she has to remind herself that this is a dangerous wolf that she has the strange luck of getting to pleasure like this. But while her fingers trace those scars idly as she feasts, she can't help but feel herself growing nearly intoxicated by how wonderful Cellinia tastes. And she's drunk on the determination, as well, to deliver an ecstasy that she might even want to come back for.]
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Date: 2025-04-01 08:05 am (UTC)so what if mai played at being a beast herself, so what if she were a love starved girl who in her loneliness had chosen a wolf that speaks so sweetly to her? she has nothing herself that says she's that good of a person. cellinia can say this clearly. she never claimed to be, all that she is happened to be someone worse than what one could imagine. had it been anyone else, they would have felt pity. but she isn't some poor girl who had been well liked by many, no longer these days she was. cellinia saw no reason to hide it, the only thing she never once showed was how she once was in that violence. what she gives mai is rain, a tempest. the rain falling into her parched desert as it tries to grow a garden of its own to go with their thorns entangling them.
since it didn't matter. for them they are ruined, ruined and ripped apart while cellinia speaks of playing at host. they both know she wouldn't be a good host. not in a normal sense, what she gives her lover is something that someone who should be a good host shouldn't be doing. what use was manners when they gave little care for them at the start? they skipped over all the steps for this being a normal meeting. in passion, they surrendered. heat of the moment, the way their hearts pounding as sensual and slow music played. even now it does, with cellinia dimly remembering her stereo is still playing onward. because it did feel that way, it gnaws so much at her that she can feel this way. that someone comes close to her heart while they do something so filthy their families would have been enraged.)
I won't deny that....I'm not much for hosting, am I? Especially whenever my company causes me to miss touching her so badly that my hands have a mind of their own.
(this isn't how a human would play at host, this is how a beast would while ignoring propriety and the standard customs of humanity. she doesn't pay it any heed. what she does is....she looks upon this girl with those eyes she loves to see. that she never once looks away from her, in pleasure and passion she looks so beautiful now, doesn't she? this is all for you, little red riding hood. all for you, pretty goddess. she doesn't give such a sight to any poor souls who find their way into her bed somehow.
not that any has, not until now where she gazes at her. eyes lit on fire, the shine to them only making them standout more in that reverence and devotion. worship of her, what could even and has bloomed into love without them knowing. without them thinking about it, since they tell themselves often they do not need that beautiful thing. that pure and innocently sweet feeling that they had ripped away from their hands. love was not for them.
interrupting her shower, please. they both know had she not done that, cellinia would have done it anywhere else in this apartment. she might have even wound up touching her thoroughly against her bathroom sink had cellinia not shown restraint, she'd worship her anywhere at any given time. because nothing would stop her from it, only the word of little red riding hood would have. that's the more important thing to this wolf, if nothing is said then she'd touch her however much this pretty goddess desires to be.)
Then I shouldn't keep you from eating your fill....
(she breathes out the words slowly, no, they both know cellinia does love it. she loses the way mai teases and pushes. like nothing could stop her from having what she wants at this moment. this world is at her fingertips. light her on fire, why don't you, goddess? look at her. she's all yours. even without being broken to her whims, she's yours. she didn't need to be in how she shows that devotion in those beautiful eyes.
this is what they both were falling apart into. they didn't need anything more, what they need is in front of them. they need the touch of their hands, the sound of one another's voice sighing out so heavenly. so beautifully, this is what love is. this is what it does to them. they deny it as it blooms in their agony while ignoring the sweet fairytales that were often told.
who says that the big bad wolf can't whisk away little red riding hood into being her own? who said that while she cries out softly for her, the sound of her voice in the air while those searing eyes watch her lover. her name on her lips, the world could burn, and they'd not ever care while they're here in this bed. alone. nothing had to make any sense for them aside from knowing that they want more. that their hearts desire more against their arguing that this is not love. they aren't in love.
she is pleased, pleased in how she keeps still for mai. she doesn't move her hips when mai holds them down, whenever she finds her rhythm. she won't thrash or react. no, she wouldn't overpower her lover. not like this while she sighs out those sweet notes, while she breathes harshly and her arms strain against the fabric again in how much she wishes she can touch her again. this is agony. she wants to touch her, she wants to feel her body against her battle worn hands. she longs for it, cellinia even craves it so much. the brush of mai's fingers along the scars is another thing she loves, the tender care placed into tracing them like she wants to commit to memory this body of hers more.
this body that mai calls perfect, a work of art for her and the canvas that she likes to touch. to even decorate in teeth, bruises from her lips, and kisses. her tongue, against cellinia's skin and most sensitive places. cellinia for her part doesn't take her gaze off mai, because she wants to watch her. to remember and commit this girl to memory. little red riding hood, her pretty goddess, she'd keep coming back for her even without them sinning in such a way.)
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Date: 2025-04-01 10:00 pm (UTC)Because Mai feels so brilliantly alive, in this moment. Whatever this is that's ruining her, whatever is ripping her apart-- this feeling she dares not name, for merely uttering that name would be its own sin-- is shredding that shell she had plastered up around herself. And she hates that she loves it, she would even curse this beautiful rain that dissolves her loneliness. Yet she doesn't, and she won't, not while she shamelessly drinks, parting her lips for it until it drowns her. Pathetic girl, Mai Zen'in is, that she would even wish to drown in it and never reemerge.
Cellinia's cute little admission, that her skills as a host leaves something to be desired, has Mai laughing again. The sounds of amusement are muffled by her mouth's current task, vibrating against her lover's skin until she pulls back enough to lap up the taste of Cellinia upon her own lips. She smirks up at her, while her fingers dig softly into the flesh of her thigh.]
Mm-- so, it's my fault?
[She playfully asks between the kisses she leaves at Cellinia's dripping heat, her voice low and a tad breathless. Mai doesn't mind shouldering this blame, this obvious conclusion that she is far from a proper guest, herself.]
I'm the reason why my host is having such a hard time right now, hmm?
[Let Cellinia remain the one with better manners, here, between the two of them. It looks better on her, far more sincere than it could ever look were Mai to don such a mantle. No, this girl prefers to show her precious wolf her own brand of sincerity, in the greedy manner with which her eyes devour the passion, the mounting pleasure so exquisitely written across Cellinia's face. Even if she doesn't know that this woman's bed has mostly been bereft of partners to warm it like this, Mai doesn't even care to let any familiar jealousy steal away her own satisfaction. She wants to be the only one to have you like this, pretty wolf. To see you like this, struggling in your obedience and melting so perfectly against her tongue while ecstasy makes its home in those handsome features. All of it belongs to Mai, all of it is crafted by her touch and her pride will never let another person claim such a victory from what she has decided belongs to her.
Even though Cellinia keeps her hips mostly still in cooperation with her determined goddess' hold, Mai can still feel the delightful quivering from the strain at keeping herself well-behaved for her. Poor thing, trying so hard not to struggle too much-- but her voice and her wolfish eyes betray her with every passing second, you see. When Cellinia gazes upon her-- and she stays true to her word, always keeping those fiery eyes upon Mai-- that look says everything that words would fail to convey. All the better, really, for her mouth is too busy spilling the most delicious cries, ragged breaths, and sweet sighs, with Mai's name peppered in every now and again. The slow music playing from the stereo is barely louder than the sounds of pleasure in the air, and it's wonderful. It's perfect, it's all the devotion she could ever ask for, and Mai yearns to deplete Cellinia of every last drop before she's finished with her.
But would she ever want to be finished with her, though? Might this someday become a never-ending cycle of fire and rain, setting them alight in this wanton passion before soothing these searing scars with a downpour that cools their hearts, leaving only devotion behind? Devotion, and this feeling that so agonizingly blooms between them from the ashes of what they're burning away. If it is indeed love, then it's corrupted, damned by hellfire. Drowning beneath heaven's tempest would be an act of mercy upon them.]
Right-- I'm still having my fun, here, and it'd be mean of you to stop me now...
[After sinking her teeth into the tender flesh of Cellinia's inner thigh, Mai resumes her more involved enjoyment of her lover's heady taste, working her tongue carefully past her slick folds for a deeper flavor. She hums favorably once she gets what she's exploring for, and lets the hand upon Cellinia's scars slide its way up her ribs, almost comforting in its touch. This wolf had been so sweet to Mai when it was her turn, and it's all she can think of while she returns the favor. Could she be so sweet, herself? Does she have it in her to treat a lover like they're her everything, the way Cellinia had? For a second, Mai breaks their eye contact and lowers her gaze, mildly vexed. Maybe her heart is too rotted for it-- another failure she'll have to contend with, another time. But if her wolf means what she says, if she would truly wish to belong to Mai-- and wish for Mai to belong to her-- then Mai would learn. She would try, she would give whatever was necessary to try to embody a lover worthy of this feeling she reluctant accepts that she can't escape from, now.
But while this feeling is certain, the future isn't, and Mai yanks herself out of dwelling too much upon a promise she doesn't know she'd even get the chance to make, let alone keep. Her eyes meet Cellinia's once more, and Mai draws away just enough to speak, a familiar smug look swiftly replacing whatever disquiet had dared to make itself known upon her face.]
You're being so good, though, Cellinia... Keep being this good for me, and I'll let you touch me to your little heart's content.
[She misses those rough hands, too, you know. But agonizing her darling wolf only means that she'll get to feel them plenty once Mai frees her from the fabric looped around her wrists. If the only thing after that which might stop Cellinia is Mai's very word, then she'll not breathe a single utterance, and let her lover have her way as much as she pleases.]
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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.)
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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.)
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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.]
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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.)
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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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Date: 2025-04-08 08:21 am (UTC)surely it's their imagination? the truth is, no, it's not leaning towards imagined only. that feeling, those darker vows whispered that the wolf would keep in her arms a girl who sighs in bliss. bliss at her rough fingers easing themselves into that lovely heat of her little red riding hood's body. she would have been covered in his blood, their blood, without so much as being fazed by it. the wild beast would have even sat there while mai wipes clean their filth from her face, her body, which she decorates and hold dearly as her perfect canvas. because this girl would give her the world the way that broken girls could when that time comes.
that trembling sigh and relief draws her attention more, the way their eyes meet while they trade these frightening words. how it must sound like poetry for the darker part of their thoughts about what it means to belong and have someone to themselves. there is no room that suggests cellinia was not serious. she's always serious. her words straightforward and blunt, even her flirting can be missed, but here it's not. here it is heard clearly. the appeal of it that her lover wants and craves whenever the wolf hums in response to that relief. that look in her lover's eyes which suggests mai has something more in mind also catches cellinia's attention.
she could be a patient predator, she could show her restraint when desired. right now there isn't a need to, in how she sighs out sharply from fingers digging into her back along unmarked and inked skin. their kisses are getting messier, sloppy and more leaning into something that could be filthy. their father's both would be upset to see them disregard manners. especially cellinia's own, but she thinks he could rot in his grave and would have killed that man again if he so much as tried to hurt mai the way that he did her grandfather. she'd kill him twice over for this girl.
she didn't want them to be lucky, did she? she can tell, that frustration and anger mixed into the lust. this is something serious, even with it being "hypothetical". what about it is? because they way they speak suggests they might consider it while wishing they could have melted to pieces into one another's hearts and souls. mending those fractured pieces with their twisted own while cellinia doesn't pause her fingers and their steady work into her lover. this girl who she touches tenderly while promising love, promising something like death. frightening. but those girls aren't normal, the two who would only know twisted love and pure love mixed into one.)
It's your word that decides it....
(oh, that must sound so sweet. how she whispers it, her voice drenched in something akin to love, and it's darker halves without knowing. why would she allow them to live if mai decides they were wastes of space who didn't deserve the air they breathe? cellinia almost surely would think similar. that they don't deserve that generosity of being allowed to live in this world. their lives should burn out the very same way that cellinia's own family faded away. in fire and in death. she would happily do it if she had known what they've done in their rotten desires to her lover. to this goddess and girl she's unwittingly marked, claimed, and more as hers without realizing in her baser instincts.)
I'd do it. They wouldn't deserve the mercy, much less that chance.
(she's noticed. that scent of arousal thick, growing stronger with how her fingers thrust deeply into her lover. how much did she love this? did she imagine those monsters fading to the wild beast? how she would have torn them apart for daring to believe they deserve mercy? she didn't miss it, not what mai meant. she would have ended any monsters for her, done anything for her in this world they both were torn apart by.)
I'd do anything.
(she whispers the vow between breathless and filthy kisses, between her fingers steadily working into their rhythm more. they're relentless in how she slowly picks up their pace, in how cellinia shields her for now while her body pins mai's own beneath her. from the world, under this moonlit night where they make vows and promises that are of love and their twisted natures.)
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Date: 2025-04-09 08:05 am (UTC)This world ought not to have corrupted them so thoroughly, crushing their innocence and steeping their hearts in a paralyzing bitterness, because now Mai is giving her body unquestionably to one handsome wolf who has her picturing such splendid, bloodied scenes as she shudders and whimpers from fingers that find their home within her fluttering walls. And Mai would do it-- she would take a cloth to the Zen'in blood drenching her lover, and soak up every last drop from her perfect form before pressing her lips to each inch she wipes clean. Oh, she would even fuck this magnificent wolf before an audience of lifeless eyes, made vacant by a woman who once wore such an emptiness in her own before she dared to viciously taste life once again. It wouldn't matter anymore, Mai would gladly do it-- one final, brilliant disrespect aimed directly at her father, who could rage at her as much as he pleased from the jaws of hell.
When Cellinia gives Mai the power to snuff out those lives-- gives her mere word sovereignty over the fate of her kin-- she feels as if the breath is robbed from her very lungs. From a lowly, mistreated serving girl to someone who could demand the erasure of a family with such strength and prestige, it's enough to make her feel dizzy with the self-preserving thoughts that this can't be real. It isn't, it can't be, this is just the two of them taking this game of make-believe to the cruelest of depths, all in the pursuit of using this sinfulness to chase some carnal satisfaction.
Yet when Cellinia promises that she would do anything, Mai swears she almost loses it completely at this whispered vow, these beautiful words uttered with such an intensity that it feels like her heart is practically leaping from her chest. She knows it-- that is real. There's noting false or pretend in this declaration. It's as real as the dark devotion, molten in that amber gaze, it's as ardent as the messy, filthy kisses they exchange as passion eats away at whatever sense dares to linger in this union.]
Y-Yeah-- do it. Do it for me...
[Do anything, everything she might possibly want. Even do the things that Mai might be too afraid to ask for outright, her true voice still smothered by the vestiges of loyalty she begrudgingly carries for a life that never once loved her. Break it all-- ah, she feels it, she feels so close to breaking, already. And if she were to shatter in this moment, Cellinia, she would demand that you wield the shards of her to slice down the monsters who made her this way.]
I want it, Cellinia, I want it--
[And what is it, exactly, that she wants so badly? More of that sweet pleasure wrought by Cellinia's fingers, to which her body reacts so enthusiastically? Mai is pathetically close to the edge, tightening around her lover's ceaseless thrusts, the friction making sweet cries spill easily from her lips now. It's the obvious answer, of course-- but just as likely is her yearning to witness Cellinia make good on these cursed vows. The absolute desperation for it is such that it threatens to make her vision go white, splattered with the dark red of blood, however Cellinia might desire to spill it. What would it take, to kill them all, repay their atrocities, free herself-- and her sister, too-- from their oppressive hold? Could she truly experience it for herself in this life?
Her voice rises in a pitiful whine from these needy pleas, and her nails scrape their way haphazardly down the expanse of Cellinia's back, leaving angry red lines across the ferocious visage of a wolf. They're not deep enough to draw blood, but perhaps they might smart a bit once the adrenaline of their passion abates. But Cellinia can take it, can't she? Her strong and relentless wolf is better than whatever scrapes Mai might ever hope to leave upon her flesh.]
P-Please.
[Oh-- there it is. Fuck, who's the ruined one, now? She never would have imagined that she'd be reduced to this, to begging-- but she's already fallen into this quicksand made of love and death and it's swallowing her whole, filling her lungs and mind and heart with violent delights. Mai desires it as much as she fears it, because she knows that it's not an impossibility. It frightens her to depths she never knew existed, because she doesn't think that she can ever go back to pretending that this 'what if?' is simply a game of make-believe. She truly can have whatever her wicked and broken little heart could desire-- because Cellinia would do anything she asked.]
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Date: 2025-04-09 10:35 am (UTC)they'd think wrong in how this handsome wolf would have melted to her lover's lips amidst the corpses left behind from her rampage on her command. how she'd covered in blood and wild, would have touched her without care for the lifeless and soulless eyes that stared. she'd touch her dearly, make them curse them from whatever fiery fate awaited them as the beautiful and magnificent beast left her claim. her permanent claim in blood, in death and rebirth. nobody could stop her from having this girl. the baser part of her mind, the animal part, demands she does so much as keep her to itself. that nobody should take what was claimed and marked as her own. because that is another thing about wounded beasts, they don't dare to let go of what precious little they may ever have in those bloody hands of theirs.
that power is mai's. if she felt them undeserving, who is cellinia to question that about those monsters she imagined? about cellinia's hands in their dangerous touch, keeping them from daring to ever believe they could keep them apart? she doesn't speak. not for now, not as common sense fades to carnal delights. the violent life she once lived being used to happily rid this world of what shackles that a girl who was used and destroyed far more by whatever wretched monsters were out there had. the ones who thought themselves superior, who rotted everything down to their very core when she hears it.
that note of desperation, her sighs shaky in response into this gracelessly filthy kiss. there is no going back, there is no saving their poor souls which demand one another. cellinia gives this devotion to a girl who has nothing left. an anchor as their minds and hearts play pretend that love had nothing to do with these words, these promises. it's far too late for them to know, to ever understand that love has poisoned them all the same. they'd never be the same as it ruins them more than they could ruin one another. it will tear them apart and remake them, their jagged edges fit perfect together as it grows into twisted vines and thorns. flowers that come from this moment where they speak freely what it is they desire.
(i've been waiting in the dark so long, drifting through these halls. listening for your call....you could turn the lights back on. darling, don't you want me where i belong? the woman's voice begins another song. another familiarity.)
having something she could belong to, cellinia hasn't had that in quite some time. what little she has is hung by a thread. they count as something close, something like family. familial bonds, yet she didn't let them in this fragile heart of hers, what remains of it. all while her worn, rough fingers pump deep into her lover. to give her more of those sweeter delights. she would have lovingly put you back together, mai, letting you be remade into feeling more free than this. sharing her own, perhaps, her own shards as you both leave behind everything. everything fading to blood, fire, and the demise she promises those fools.)
I'll give it to you.
(from how close her lover is, cellinia can tell. the desperation, the desire for that freedom, and how needy she must feel. she'd end them. it wouldn't be anything pretty, nor would there ever be any going back from this line they've crossed. they'd die horribly for the cardinal sin of hurting this girl. this girl who chased a wolf into her den, who scratches pretty red lines against the inked skin of that terrifying wolf's snarl along her back. she'll take it upon her shoulders to grant that freedom she so sweetly deserves. she won't let anyone have mai while shielding her from the rotten remains of this world.
who needs to think too much about more than that? she'd wear those scratches like she'd wear the teeth and bruises decorating her body. even if they did or didn't draw blood, she'd wear them and be unfazed by what pain rises from it. she can handle it, her body has been battered by more than that when those slits in her eyes almost dilate at the plea. it stirs again, the urge to sink her teeth in that pretty neck. to leave a mark that would stake her more permanent claim. that claim, which would not be contested, that this girl is only hers. ah, she wants to. she really, really do....no, her reasonable side has a better idea. though it is mixed with her vows, her own desires against the instincts of a wild beast.
what if she did it after freeing this girl? or even better, what if that is the prize on the table? not only did mai have her chance to keep this wolf forever, but to carry a mark from her? that is the highest of honors, would you like that, mai? at the end of the tunnel waits this girl who would make you forever hers in how she'd tenderly sink her teeth in your neck? this is scary, frightening. there is no doubt about that. they're a pair of ruined girls who were already torn apart by the world. so, who else but someone who knows ruin too well should be the one to give one another everything and the world for the one they want most? cellinia would offer it in blood and desire, in however mai may ever want it. that in itself....is also terrifying.)
I'll end them all, I'll make you mine forever....
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Date: 2025-04-10 09:04 am (UTC)It's insidious, the way that the pleasure springing forth from imagining such a violent fate for them spreads its roots and burrows deep, deep within her very soul. There's no way she would be able to rip them all out, now-- these roots pulse so deliciously with violent ecstasy that she might've feared that some sick addiction was born tonight. An obscene dependency on a euphoria that Mai would hate to find herself chasing, though she already knows that her rotten heart soaks it up like it had been parched for such an indulgence. This heart of hers, so mercilessly ripped to shreds by those who were supposed to cherish her, is being stitched back together oh so lovingly by the twisted promises of a dark wolf that she's desperate to claim for her own, even if Mai is the one who will be the prize, here. It's fine-- she hasn't forgotten, after all, that they both had promised themselves to one another, long before such promises were soaked so thoroughly with blood.
'When I die, don't dig my grave
Save me from this empty life 'til our souls are intertwined'
Somewhere beneath Mai's ragged panting and loud, broken whimpers that drench the walls of Cellinia's room, a man's crooning voice sings the fate of these world-weary lovers. Perhaps their souls were intertwined long before today, perhaps every misfortune and every atrocity they had suffered up until now was simply Fate paving the roads of their lives until they would inevitably meet, becoming one. What else could describe the way that the more traitorous, lonelier parts of their hearts call out to each other without words, and answer just the same?
'Only you can change my fate
Baby, leave it all behind, bе the reason I survive'
Oh, Cellinia-- you must already have some suspicion that you might be the only path that Mai has to surviving this life. For it's only a matter of time before something snatches her life away, be it disgusting curses or a malicious father who can't wait to clean his hands of such a stain upon his prestige. Would it be worth it to you, beautiful wolf, to change the fate of one deeply cursed girl? Her heart already feels as if it's being contorted just for you, twisting and tightening even more as she endures the breathtaking feeling of those fingers hitting a certain sweet spot inside of her, threatening to send her tumbling into a chasm that she'll never be able to escape from. Her cries become more strained, more desperate, and they quickly drown out the music as she hastens towards her peak courtesy of Cellinia's touch. Having those pretty eyes so close to her this time is what really does it for her, she thinks-- but she's not as strong-willed as Cellinia is, for when Mai finally climaxes, she can't help but squeeze her eyes shut in the overwhelming sensation, letting the stars forming behind her eyelids drown her in their brilliance. God, she doesn't think she's ever come this hard before, with her body wracked by such powerful tremors while she spasms strongly around Cellinia's lovely fingers. It's enough to make her forget that they're not in the privacy of some off-road clearing in the countryside, this time-- that there are people around who might be hearing them enjoy each other so sinfully. Ah, well, hopefully no one is listening too closely... ]
Cellinia...
[Thoroughly spent and still trembling, Mai breathes out her lover's name in a tone replete with adoration. Her vision begins to clear, and she blinks up at Cellinia with eyes that shine with a sweet bliss, the hints of tiny, teary droplets gathering along her lashes. Between heavy, uneven breaths, Mai offers her mouth to Cellinia's in messy kisses. Any tension within her body has melted splendidly, rendering her feeble beneath her wolf's body still pinning her against the mattress. Realizing that she's still gripping harshly at Cellinia's back, Mai relaxes her hands and starts to rub soothingly up and down her spine, letting her aching fingers brush against the base of her lover's tail before trailing up to between her shoulder blades.
Words fail her in this moment. In truth, she'd rather continue sharing kisses with Cellinia than dare try to put her jumbled thoughts into anything coherent. What could she say, after those filthy and vicious promises made to her as she fully surrendered to euphoria? Cellinia declared that it is Mai's own word that would decide if she would give into her beastly nature and tear apart a great number of human lives. Could Mai do it, could she give the order-- even if it was absolutely merited? It was too much to think about in her current state. And, despite this exchange of theirs being far from make-believe at this point, she hopes that Cellinia wouldn't demand an answer from her so soon. Let it settle quietly, becoming another layer of the gorgeously corrupted affection blooming between them... for now.]
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Date: 2025-04-10 11:40 am (UTC)this pleasure is a violent sort, darker and bloody. ready to drown them in it were they to be so ignorant to pretend that they were in control of it beyond that trust given. what cellinia does is touch her. what she would do is make sweeter love to her when all is said and done, whether covered in their tainted blood or not. they could watch in hell where they belonged alone the sight of their neglected kin being taken by the big bad wolf. this sick addiction of theirs wouldn’t be going away is another thing, not in how receptive they both were to the bloody picture mai would imagine. especially not in how cellinia so kindly provided the picture herself by readily agreeing that she would give this girl the highest honor by allowing her to be the one to decide if they were to die. she isn’t impatient enough to push for death so soon, so fast. as a predatory being, she knows patience. she knows restraint. mai wouldn’t need to worry about the wolf making demands for plans, everything, so soon without her giving a more serious claim on her wish to see those bastards she imagined dead. she promised this girl her heart, she promised her something more than they would dare to give her. that was something akin to love and it’s warmth. her tender touch, her lips barely parting for long from mai’s own in between each kiss. they lack the decorum of refined ladies, but that’s fine for them.
no point in showing it when they’re giving one another something that would make those pitiful ladies in societies both girls were and are a part of appalled and mortified. what good did being that way do for them? it only added to that mess that they weren’t good enough in the eyes of men who desired to own them. to control them like marionettes who didn’t deserve their freedom, their own choices in what they are. what they are capable of while excepted to be more of something they’re not. here, cellinia does not demand it of mai. what she gives her is those breathless kisses with a trail of saliva following in connection between their lips for each brief parting in how messy they’re getting.
(bring me back to life, even if the sun don’t rise, yeah.
fill my lungs, feel the blood flowing through my veins.)
it’s better this way, for them. that the sun fades away, that what light they get is from one another. that any warmth is shared in tender affection given. mai’s voice calls out to the wolf beautifully as she watches intently the way her lover cries those broken whimpers and whines. she soothes her with quiet shushes in return, gentle and almost soft in how she murmurs for her that she’s doing good. who knows what awaits them, if what happened in their lives to make them this way would be worth it all. that their traitorous hearts, soul, and bodies had no desire to let go of someone who knew their pain. their suffering, they know in two sides of the same coin with its differences. cellinia in how she came from a life of dirty deeds destroying many men, many women, for the name of family. that family is what would decide their living or dying. no matter how good they were at their work, this “business” that they were all part of comprised of wicked misdeeds and crueler sins than the sweet poetry she whispered to this little red riding hood of hers. this girl she looks at like a goddess, her own goddess she wouldn’t let go of for anything in devotion, with those searing eyes. the amber of them shining in the darkness, highlighted by the moon lighting her bedroom for mai to have all to herself.
(wake me up with your love again.)
but she tells herself again, this isn’t love. this shouldn’t be love. yet why did it feel so close to something they’d never once wished for themselves again after losing it? she did have her thoughts, her feelings. her wishes to not lose this girl if she can help it. cellinia maybe even realized subconsciously, without ever knowing, that their similarities are so strong that she might have even seen mai eventually disappear before her eyes. this curse can be only something cellinia did not care about, this dark wolf who whisks her lover away in what she gives her. she would keep you near, beautiful girl. beautiful goddess. it didn’t matter who tried to stop her, she wouldn’t let go of you. she’d make those who dared to curse her pay for their grave sins in how she were treated when or if that day ever came. she’d change your fate into something more lovely. something more tantalizing than what they intended for her.
mai cries out sharply, those desperate cries and how they strained into lovelier notes than the music is another thing she commits to memory. she watches her while her fingers, no matter their roughness, gives attention to that sweet spot while mai grows louder. her peak reached while the wolf eases her slowly down from it from her relentless rhythm becoming something slower, something softer. if any nosy neighbors grow curious, she’d ignore them, as she’s always done. cellinia wouldn’t tell them what happened in the first place. let them hear it. their sinful wants, their needs which had laid dormant from this fire hot passion they feel. the darker desires of it before cellinia parts their lips again for mai to breathe.
though not before she stares at her wordlessly when she speaks with adoration her name, her free hand cups her lover’s cheek. a gentle caress of it in response of affections they’ve both been giving each other freely. the messy kisses fade to something slow, albeit still messy. the tension in her back eases to mai's hands rubbing into the skin to soothe the marks she left, those scratches which she'd not even mind having. her tail shifts to be closer to her side for the rub of her soft fingers along the base of it. she won't demand mai's answer on her wishes, not any time soon. that promise if it ever comes to fruition would not be tonight or at all during the coming days. only the affections this wolf has for her goddess would be there. her little red riding hood she kisses so sweetly while she comes down from this wave of pleasure.)
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Date: 2025-04-11 07:24 am (UTC)She'll keep it to herself, of course. Mai couldn't possibly tell Cellinia that bringing this clan of monsters to their knees was a fantasy she had heard countless times in her youth. And she couldn't admit to her that she stopped believing it after witnessing, experiencing what those monsters are capable of. Granted, her sister's dream was decidedly less violent than Cellinia's vows, spoken as easily as she breathed-- but what if this dream was always meant to be bathed in blood? A prestigious family tree, painted with strokes of crimson still warm with life. Mai had long since lost faith in Maki, who left her to fend for herself, surely knowing that she would fail. And yet a fragile part of her heart, a piece she believed to be atrophied beyond repair, dares to believe in the pledges of a handsome stranger who has already sunk her teeth into Mai's rotten, half-formed heart. She doesn't belong to the Zen'in anymore, she doesn't belong to Maki, she doesn't even belong to herself. If Cellinia sees her fit to claim as a prize, if she wanted to satisfy a quiet bloodlust with her family as payment, then Mai won't stop her, either. Just as her kin might have always been destined for this bloodied end, Mai was always meant to find her solace in someone who would make her feel cherished and whole. Fate weaves these threads as She sees fit.
And what a curious and wondrous turn of events, that such a foolish, hopeless girl might get to claim quite the magnificent prize for herself in this wolf. This devoted, beautiful wolf who has utterly ruined her, just as she promised that she would. It was always destined, wasn't it, that Cellinia would best Mai so splendidly? Her intense affection wipes clean the fingerprints that anyone else had so carelessly left upon Mai. Any proof of their existence is stamped out in breathless kisses, in those soothing hushes and tender reassurances that set her nerves alight with unfamiliar exhilaration, in the agonizingly sweet way her fingers slow once the waves of pleasure crash hard over Mai's entire body. Whatever cruel taunts and heartless insults anyone has ever buried her in is drowned out by the whispered promises that offer them to an altar of a love that rouses itself from a profound slumber and demands to be sated.
A deep fissure has split Mai's pride in two-- and really, it has happened too often in her life already-- but this time, it's something that she can never again reconcile. Oh, Cellinia. How lucky and unlucky Mai is to have crossed paths with you. In a single night, everything has changed, and it scares her. Does it frighten you, as well, sweet wolf?
'Take my hand, don't let me slip into thin air
Bring me back to life'
The way her heart still races, hammering against her ribs and echoing in to Cellinia's chest, it's all the proof the Mai needs that she is alive, alive again. Because she had absolutely died a little death by Cellinia's capable hands, crushed and shattered in ways that put to shame the brute force inflicted upon her by the shadowy monsters. They had broken her and left her to scrounge around in the dark for the pieces, tending to the wounds alone while she tried to build herself back up, never quite getting it right. She had become something far from the innocent and carefree youth who would have devoted her whole life to existing at the bottom, so long as she had the second half of her soul to complete her. They had taken it all away from her, leaving her unrecognizable even to herself. And yet, look how prettily these shards of hers glimmer for Cellinia, after she's ushered her to the top like this. The arduous task of reconstructing herself need not be fulfilled by Mai, this time-- and even if she were to still remain unrecognizable at the end of it, as long as Cellinia would still look upon her with such adoration, then Mai would be all too happy to leave every failed iteration of herself behind.
As her breathing begins to calm down, the last few notes of the song mark its conclusion, leaving them in a brief silence before the next melody begins to fill the void. All the while, the soft sounds of their slow kisses are all that Mai desires to pay attention to, their breaths mingling whenever their lips part for air. In the back of her hazy mind, Mai feels a tingle of amusement at Cellinia's reaction to her touch, and languidly traces her fingers down her spine once more to busy them with the dampened fluff of her tail. Another reminder that she lays with a pretty beast, though one that calls to mind a loyal companion rather than a bloodthirsty predator. The moments that she takes to come down from her high pass by without haste, and everything that brought her to her peak-- satisfying touches and intoxicating promises-- leaves her body humming pleasurably in the aftermath. Their flesh clings together from the sweat of their efforts, and the wet strands of Cellinia's hair spills over her shoulders, a curtain that leaves the sheets beneath Mai even more damp. She doesn't mind all that much, though. When she finally musters up the energy to speak, her voice is slightly rasped and weary from her earlier exclamations.]
I... [A slow, drawn-out sigh. She nuzzles into Cellinia's hand caressing her cheek, and a brief look of wariness crosses her features while she debates whether or not to speak her feelings aloud.] I really like the way you look at me...
[Despite Mai clinging in vain to the last bit of reluctance to admit defeat, her bleary eyes say it all. Cellinia can keep her forever. She already has a part of Mai that she can never retrieve again, a fact that this girl is painfully aware of. Yes, she's thoroughly ruined, tamed and made docile by a beast, of all things! Ah, the absurdity of it all is but another sip of that sweet poison that her tongue is happily, greedily accustomed to. Well done, Cellinia... ]
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Date: 2025-04-11 09:34 am (UTC)this clan of nameless monsters could only be given their swift end in fire. they’d burn away that same way that she ended her own bloodline. the sight of them fading to the unexpected, a dark and handsome stranger offering more than they’d ever imagine. that faith can be placed in her to end it all as wished. to give her that desire for revenge that waits within her heart that her own blood had been unable to fulfill by hopelessly chasing what she thought best to change the clan for the sake of her sister. her teeth sinks deep in that rot and poison from what remains of mai’s heart. she would give this girl what vows they’d all never have offered themselves. this sinful dream of bloody death and crimson which fades to the touch of one being that would show them no mercy. she gives her a mercy in her kiss, in hands which had seen so much death that touches her like a finer treasure than she’s had in her own miserable life. who else but them may ever understand and know that vows should not be given lightly, that they’d give them to the one they desired most. the rest would never know those things they whisper, the mercies on their tongues while they drown in poison and ruin mutually shared between their mouths. their hearts that never had felt this alive in quite some time between what had been a whim started between them.
the slow thrust and strokes of those worn fingers ease her lover down from this high, the brush of them deep and tender in their movements. this beautiful wolf. this darling wolf that mai demands in her own want as her own prize, gives to her on this altar they make of her bed. her bed which is covered in soggy sheets, the remaining droplets dripping down from hair and tail while that curtain of long black and red hair settles around mai and cellinia’s face. tender affections are given, the brush of fingertips against her lover’s cheek with each sweet caress of it. this bed has become in general her altar, an altar of offerings made up of love and all the things that they never had from their lives. her mouth whispering sweet words while mai’s head knits itself together in tenderly soft brushes of their lips.
it frightens her, it truly does, darling little red riding hood. that she can feel this way. that she could offer that demise so readily, so naturally. the altar of love and lust, devoted whispers into wishes she would grant by the word of her lover when she pleases. she feels it, afraid of what it means. that fear which would always be there between them mixed into their darker thoughts, their darker feelings that couldn’t fade themselves with ease. do you also think it fitting, mai? that a wolf could find it in herself to know too well all the things that were best kept hidden away while you pretended to function, to live? a twist of fortune, in both luck and not so lucky. everything is different in the way they pushed forward through the lines that blurred in the sand the moment that the wolf accepted seeing her.
anyone who got in the way would only learn, she doesn’t share. she won’t share. not this girl that she touched with merciful tenderness. with a softness that could only be found from wounded beasts. keeping close what precious little they have is only part of their needs, in how they would snap their jaws on those daring enough to believe they can rip away the one who made them whole again. how swift she’d end them, making them bleed while protecting this girl in her den as the beast that she is. there was no changing that, a beast is a beast. wild, threatening, and all too willing to kill those that touched what they claimed as being theirs. they never learn. not at any time while the wolf would never stop how she looks at her, those devoted and searing eyes. the amber of them glimmering for her in this dimly lit room in soft, tender, devotion fed to a starved goddess.
they’re alive. mai, even is alive. at her touch, at the feeling of their hearts thrumming together in sync out of their chests. the music changes, and she’s not paying it any attention, her lips are against mai’s own. when she rebuilds herself, cellinia won’t ever look away from her. together they’d be there. together. with that devotion she readily gives her, that worship and adoration of mai that never faded away once in this love they know not that they offer one another from their twisted perception of it. their understanding of one another down to what remains of their mangled souls, their ruined hearts. what remains shall be rebuilt, they can do that much while willing away those wretched monsters that dared to believe they could taint her dear goddess again.
her breathing eases, but the kisses retain their slow and tender affection. the soft mix of their breaths while cellinia strokes mai’s cheek. her eyes, half closed and melting into it. the pretty beast becoming a loyal wolf, protective and willing to keep her safe in whatever way that it can. as well as receptive, funnily enough, to affections given when her damp tail would have wrapped itself around mai if not for how they’re positioned. like another safe anchor to their world that they gradually make into a new reality. as frightening as it is. their bodies fit together perfect as ever, covered in sweat from heated efforts and both mixed with soft and rough skin. inked and not inked while cellinia looks at her lover. she’s patient, not rushing her to speak, either. earlier was a lot, wasn’t it? even her second wind is wearing off as tiredness gnaws at her mind.)
....I doubt I could ever stop looking at you like this.
(she'll admit it, fine. they both would not be speaking of this to any other poor souls. no need. she doubts she could ever want to belong to anyone else, well done yourself, mai. this beast might still be wild, but she is all yours to hold. to keep the missing pieces of while cherishing her the way that only two broken and greedy souls could in offered poisonous affections that taste so divine.)
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Date: 2025-04-12 02:03 am (UTC)In the end, Mai will contend with the possibility of having to pay a price all her own for this promise exchanged between them. Even if it this path is decreed by Fate, it doesn't mean that someone like her merits the sacrifice of numerous lives, one prestigious cage traded for the den of a beast who would wish to keep her all the same. Not even Cellinia might be able to stand against Fate when Mai is marked for her role in this sin. But when that day comes— if it ever does— then Mai can steel herself for this reckoning. Of course, she'll greedily hoard every bit of affection that she is able to until then, and wear it like a brilliant mantle, one very unworthy girl made into a goddess by a single, devoted worshipper. Perhaps she might even be able to plead with Fate to spare her beautiful wolf and lay their sins solely upon Mai's shoulders. What a thought— that she would ever have the fortitude to make such a declaration. Ah, Cellinia's romantic tendencies are leaving their influences upon Mai, aren't they?
Their heartbeats have fallen into a welcome rhythm, the pulsing of one becoming the complimentary echo of the other. They inhale each other, exhale each other deeply, kiss as if they have all the time in the world. Their lips meet, part, and meet again as if these kisses are infinite, borne of a sweetness far beyond them, though a sweetness that is generous enough to give these lovers a taste for the night. Such a magnificent altar they have made of this bed, and of one another's bodies. Mai dares to let one of her hands drift between her legs where Cellinia's fingers have slowed into the most tender of movements, slowed to almost a halt. She cups her palm over her lover's hand there, and quietly marvels at how they're one this way. It's as if her body was made for every testament of Cellinia's devotion that she had bestowed upon Mai thus far. At the wolf's ever-endearing admission, Mai laughs softly and brings her other hand to rub those fluffy ears with an open fondness.]
You're seriously gonna rot me with all of those sweet words, Cellinia.
[There's hardly any bite or even soft mockery in her words. Mai is sweetly agreeable from the exhaustion after such a pleasurable evening, and the soft kiss she presses to Cellinia's cheek conveys as much. The loyalty glowing richly in her lover's eyes, anchoring Mai all the more steadfastly to her side, even brings a genuine smile to the girl's lips. Despite the fears that each of them may carry at the prospect of their budding, dark devotion to one another, Mai indeed finds it all too fitting that Cellinia can recognize the parts of her that are so tired of pretending, tired of struggling, the parts of her that want to be loved, even if it's to the point of being spoiled by this love.]
But it's fine— I think I get it, now. You really like your girls rotten.
[There really is no flavor quite like it, is there? The taste of something that once bore such promise, only to be left forgotten in the dark, untouched by everything save for the passage of time. Attractive flesh could only take one so far, when the spirit beneath was so thoroughly spoiled. Anyone else would recoil at the sight of such pretty decay, treading around or even upon it in favor of reaching to pluck something pure and pristine, instead. Mai was used to it, being overlooked for something better, something with more potential. Whatever sections of her still palatable were devoured secretly, while those same lips would denounce her rottenness to the world. Where was the lie, and where was the truth? She had long stopped asking, and accepted that she was unsalvageable. Yet Cellinia doesn't balk at the taste, and can't seem to get her fill of this peculiar flavor upon her tongue— decay and loneliness. She must recognize it, something nostalgic found in the taste of their kisses. Only someone who has lived such a loneliness herself would seek it out again and again. From the small peeks of her solitary life that she's been given, Mai can tell that solitude had never ceased its possessive embrace of Cellinia, even if its arms wrap themselves around her less oppressively, these days.
Those beloved eyes that watch her wear the beginnings of a fatigue that mirrors Mai's own. The satisfaction, the protection that steeps in their amber depths is splendid, putting to rest whatever troubles dance on the periphery of Mai's tired mind. If not for the discomfort that waking up upon cold sheets would give her later, she wouldn't have protested dozing off right here where she lay. That little quip of hers comes around to taunt her— no sleeping over on the first date. Well, it's not as if this bed is in any state for proper sleeping after they've soaked it like this, is it now? She hasn't the motivation to fix up any linens in her state, but fortunately this isn't the only space where she might rest her head. Besides, is there much harm if she simply closes her eyes for fifteen minutes, an hour? Cellinia should have no problem making room on that couch of hers for both of them, and Mai can't imagine anything she'd enjoy more than to feel her arms around her while she dozes off. How many years have passed since she had last fallen asleep to such a comfort? How long has it been since the worries and the terrible dreams were kept at bay by something as simple as a protective embrace?
She can't guarantee that this vow between them is not merely an illusion, a spell that breaks with the coming of the dawn. But she doesn't think she can bring herself to stay awake long enough to see if this illusion disappears with her own eyes. If, in the end, she finds that she's lived a brief dream and that the wolf within her arms intends to drench her fangs in Mai's blood for a meal, then would she be troubled so terribly? The answer to that is foggy, layered, and hardly compelling. Besides, it's an answer that she would rather not even entertain, for she can feel it-- in the depths of her half-formed heart, she knows that she's something precious to Cellinia, a treasure that a beast might have wished for in her long, dark nights without repose.
She would be happier to wake and find that her wolf still adores her— would still kill for her— and then decide where the convoluted path drawn up by Fate will lead her, next.]
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Date: 2025-04-12 02:39 pm (UTC)this country they both were tied to by blood only served to destroy those unfortunate enough to share lineages from the fatherland who found it impossible to live the lives that those who were normal should be. is it really a sin to take matters into their own hands from a desire sparked by demanding their due? if someone had to pay a price in their promises whispered under the moonlight, their darker vows of offering blood in exchange for freedom while embracing one another tenderly in lust and in what they deny as love, then she would sooner not allow herself redemption than be without her, she would take those sins of her own while fading to the flames in a passionate kiss. because there is no denying it, this is how she is. this is how she’s always been with her utter refusal to dare let go of something despite herself. a contradiction in her methodology while claiming that she’s fine the way that she is when it’s proven tonight that she’s felt the same. she would fall to the sword, the fire, whatever it shall be that day it comes with a desire to never once be parted from her lover after finding that missing part of herself. the side of herself that had never resurfaced ever since those days spent in innocent youth which faded to that bloodshed which awaited her as she grew older. with swords in hand, she went forward. but that’s the other problem, one can only take so much blood before they fall apart. for this she offers herself, despite knowing it and her own heart that mai can feel the beat of would desire peace for them both if it can be helped. that it may never reach that point of justice, revenge, needing to be given out to others once again by her and her merciless hands with mai watching how frightening this wolf truly is.
their hearts are in sync, a steady pace as they ease from the excitement of their lust and adoration. the kisses are slow, idle, taken without care to think about the world outside with each brush of their lips. from how they breathe in one another slowly, their hands had done plenty in worship (for mai) and soft ruinous pleasure (for cellinia) while none were the wiser about what a pair of girls like them had done. this altar made up of her bed is where they start anew as the shattered pieces from glass and being torn apart mends together. bonding them down to their hearts, what remains of them. cellinia’s hand pauses, the one between mai’s legs does when her palm rests over the more calloused hand. she would have reached to grab it, but her fingers are a mess with her lover’s arousal. in a sense, it is like they’re one. they are. even with something as simple as cellinia’s skilled and battle-worn fingers coaxing those lovelier notes from her goddesses voice. her ears twitch at the fond brushes of mai’s fingertips against the fluff of them, soft as ever in how they ease down and melt to the affection offered to them.
rot her, is she? it’s more than that. these sweet words, they’re so pretty in how she whispers them. how she speaks them like poetry in the violence and the innocence. the lack of mockery wasn’t lost on the wolf, she’s more amused with herself. loyal eyes, so reverent in their desire and devotions. they glow in both the dark and in how they give her such delights. whether it’s their darker and worrisome thoughts or not. spoiling her with love that she never had, unfazed by the taste of loneliness and agony. the decay of long time suffering as they strip away from this girl everything she once had. bringing anew life into her as they say goodbye to what once was their days apart. fate meant little to her after her own prolonged years of suffering, but that wouldn’t stop her from going against it once again in how cellinia would stand in the fiery depths to not let mai burn alone. they both know, heaven has no place for girls like them who would make devils shiver from the sheer anguish they’ve gone through. it doesn’t stop her from blushing at the kiss to her cheek, although faintly.
she isn’t wrong, though. not about cellinia’s preferences, she did prefer girls like her. not because they’re rotten, but because she can connect with them too well. too easily. such as now with them finding out that what was a hookup felt further from true in the way they both were receptive to everything. from gentler touches of their bodies to this affection they hadn’t had as their own. if ever, truly. love starved hearts tend to demand more. want more, because they don’t always have this sweetness. the sweetness of adoration and those warm feelings that had been ripped away from their lives so easily. there was no purity in them, not beyond this warm feeling they give one another. beyond the way they remake themselves slowly with pieces shared between them.)
It’s that obvious?
(she murmurs it, pulling her hand slowly out from between mai’s legs with an apologetic glance. more for the fact it would feel empty without her touch than how long her hand was there, but she’s known this loneliness too well. just like mai. it might not ever loosen that oppressive grip it has upon her shoulders, not fully, but she allows this goddess who touched that solitude with her own to be close in the garden of thorns that would also bloom one day into something viciously beautiful between them. this taste of mai’s remains the sweetest she would ever have on her lips, the kind she savors while she licks clean her fingers. a little languid, tired, and considering to herself what to do. mai seems tired, more than anything. but that’s understandable, cellinia is much more active and sex itself can be demanding on a body from the physical aspect. didn’t matter who was doing what, both ends could come out tired and eventually sore. while mai dozes off cellinia, reluctantly, shifts to get out of bed. if only because she knows they couldn’t sleep there in soggy sheets that were filthy from their mutual arousal and shower gone terribly wrong.
she’s apologetic in her murmurs for their warmth being separated, but cellinia did take her into her arms. almost like a princess, a bride, in how she carries her out of the bedroom. the intended destination was the couch. purely because she’s not in the mood to change sheets from how tired she feels, the linens can wait until the morning when she sets her lover to lay down on the soft sofa first. there were pillows waiting and ready when her wolf takes hold of the blanket left at the end of it and moves to join her. all while covering them both in it, that way they can stay together more.
and that way, her arms fit around mai perfectly for more comfort. by the time they awaken, it likely won’t be any time early in the morning. those eyes won’t lose their reverence, their loyal devotion, either. her fondness is real, so is the feelings in her heart. that won’t fade away. not even as cellinia comfortably starts to doze off while hoping quietly to herself this isn’t another dream of her own. a terrible dream where she had something sweeter for once only for it to be ripped away.
she hopes, that when they awaken, that they can be free for a little longer. from all that shackles them, from everything.)
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Date: 2025-04-14 08:29 am (UTC)'It's that obvious?' Cellinia dares to ask, and Mai stifles a snicker as she kisses her cheek again, secretly admiring her enjoyment of the little gesture— the faint blush that graces her face is not lost on Mai. Of course it's obvious, as it should have been the moment they dared cross a line out of sheer boredom. How were they to know that their broken edges would fall into place so surprisingly well? Surely, boredom was merely a veneer to cloak something deeper, something lonelier that would have always compelled them to have acted a bit recklessly. If not one another, it might have been anyone else, no? Certainly something quick, forgettable, just enough to stave away the terrors that loom behind them but for a single evening— as it ought to have been tonight. Yet how often had they met anyone willing to endure their thorns long enough to taste the nectar of their harshly-begotten blooms? Perhaps they both half-recognized the lonesomeness in their cheeky interaction, daring to stare it down until it revealed itself to be the same, sad decay that was feeding upon them both.
But Cellinia had asked, besought Mai to haunt her long after this rendezvous of theirs finishes, vowing to do the same. The deed is already done, the vow fulfilled without fanfare. They've woven themselves into one another's essences from the pleasure wrought tonight, the swell of ecstasy they surrendered themselves to. Suffocated beautifully by these little deaths, the two of them have become the ghosts they were always meant to be— and by each other's daring hands, not those of the devils who sired them. A deep breath passes Mai's lips when Cellinia withdraws herself, only for a sharp inhale to take its place when she watches her lover lap the sticky arousal coating her fingers from a job well done. The spectacle of it is curious, fascinating in a way that makes Mai want to tease her for it, but the words fail to surface. Instead, she softly chews at the inside of her lip while she stares, wondering to herself if this big bad wolf will ever find herself satisfied after devouring this girl she has charmed into her den.
In spite of the fatigue weighing all the more heavily, Mai is awake enough to appreciate her pretty wolf scooping her up so nobly and whisking her away from the discomfort of the ruined bed sheets. She snakes her arms around Cellinia's neck and buries her face in her shoulder, laughing softly at the gallantry of the act. Her lover's hands fit securely, perfectly around her torso and behind her knees, and she feels like something properly treasured as they bid farewell to the bedroom.
Compared to the bed, or any bed, the couch is acceptable at best. At the very least, it's dry and already half made-up to imitate a suitable sleeping spot, with the pillows and blanket scattered across the cushions. Mai loosens her hold enough for Cellinia to set her down gently, and through lidded eyes she watches her silhouette drift briefly towards the end of the sofa to retrieve the blanket to spread over the two of them once she finds her place beside her. They don't exchange words, not bidding one another a good night or the hope for sweet dreams, but Mai tilts her head up for one last sleepy kiss, wanting to taste Cellinia— taste a bit of herself upon Cellinia's tongue— before wrapping her arms around her waist, tangling their legs together, and nuzzling her face against her neck while her eyes finally drag shut for good. Thanks to their long, enthusiastic day spent with one another, sleep comes swiftly and easily enough. The security of Cellinia's arms and the quiet heartbeat beneath her warmth no doubt facilitate the descent into dreamless slumber.
There's only one instance when Mai stirs, and it is at dawn's beginning, when the blue-gray light of early morning filters in through the spaces in the living room windows. She can't be sure of exactly what rouses her, but in her groggy state, she almost imagines herself to be back at her family's estate for a moment— safe and warm and loved, a long-forgotten feeling that somehow envelops her again, but in a way that's far different from those days marked by youth's innocence. She blinks slowly, her eyes adjusting to the dim light, and the realization of where she is settles upon her in a manner that wakes her just a bit further. Instead of the remnants of incense mingling with cypress growing around the manor, the faint notes of tobacco and cologne greet her in their place. And instead of a big sister who turns away at some point in the night, forcing space between them, Mai is still wrapped in the embrace of a sleeping wolf's inked limbs, a beautiful lover ceaselessly protecting her throughout the night.
She shifts just enough to look upon Cellinia's sleeping face for several moments. Mai watches her breathe in and out, lets her eyes take in the strange serenity of her visage, the occasional fluttering of her eyelashes against her cheeks, her brow furrowing periodically as well. Their lips are close enough that their breaths mingle, and Mai feels a desire to touch her in some manner, push the errant strands of hair from her face, anything— but she decides against it, not wishing to wake her, already worried that her quickly beating heart is loud enough to do the job. So, she shifts back ever so slightly, returning to her original place cuddled against Cellinia's chest, listening to her rhythmic heartbeat as she waits for sleep to claim her again. She remembers, though, the echos of the dark vows they had exchanged, and they tumble over and over in her mind. It makes her feel something, a strange tightening in her chest, but she's still sleepy enough for it to remain dulled, less urgent, and eventually her eyes close for another bout of sleep in spite of this feeling.
By the time Mai truly awakens, it's past noon already, and in her half-asleep state, she hears the familiar pinging of her phone receiving messages, the sound faint from wherever she left it along with her revolver. Eyes still shut, she grumbles softly and doesn't bother hurrying to rise from her comfortable position.]
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