(devotion is interesting, so is the idea naturally that someone could find themselves desiring a woman as deeply as they are. she answers that craving, her greed, with all that she could offer mai alone. her body, that searing look in her eyes that has yet to fade, the taste of her on maiâs tongue, and this embrace that wraps itself around them. vines and thorns which cover them together. itâd never be enough. not unless they could melt to pieces and carry the embrace of one another forever in their lives, but that also may never satisfy them and this urge to let go down to their souls. greed is something not so easily satisfied to begin with, the fact that they both arenât scared of the implications of both girls never being satisfied with only one time should say plenty. who needed satisfaction whenever they found a missing part of themselves from something that should have stayed as physical?
her soul ignites in her embrace, her lips thirst for more of her kiss. maybe she might uncover more of this enigma presented before her, how the wolf may never stop being one in some ways. because sheâs learned, she has to keep some parts of herself safe. away from the prying eyes of others for survival, allowing herself to let out everything is a weakness. those who are weak die fast, but not as fast as the lone wolves who abandoned their blood, their kin. mai may be the sun, cellinia could only be the moon to her while she watches her closely.
her marks, the bruises and love bites cover her skin beautifully. the imprints of scratches along her back mixed into where her lips marked more of the canvas she adores most only other parts of her body that mai has touched with her brush. a brush which cellinia shows off without shame, without a second thought in it. they were past the need for shame now, werenât they? and itâs nothing unusual for a beast to not carry shame. itâs only fitting of a wild animal to do such a thing. mark her territory and allow her lover to do the same if she found herself wanting to try and keep something as handsome, as dangerous as she is. her menacing and handsome work of art, her knight in all her darkly given promises. vows which left her with such ease, how they came out like poetry in the violence she would grant her the honor of saying the word for.
she watches mai, those searing amber eyes following closely. the sight of her easing that blanket and the fabric of it down slowly in her steps. she canât help how she watches her. cellinia wouldnât rip her eyes away for any reason, not in how she watches her beautiful goddess slip out of it. the marks which she left for her in worship unveiled, the way it hugged her curves before it dropped to the floor properly and their hands soon are held together. her thumb brushes along the back of maiâs tenderly, the rub of it into the skin slow while her lover takes this invitation presented before her. at first, cellinia expected her to find her own space knowing the tub has plenty of that offered to them both.
what happens instead, she didnât mind that either. mai settling against her, in her lap and closing any space between them as warm droplets of water trail down along their skin. she knows thatâs a lie, but she doesnât call her out on it. she only could take it as something to grow used to, something that she doesnât argue or mind knowing that they both struggled to allow themselves to separate for long. mai fits perfectly in her lap, against her body when cellinia instinctively rests her chin against her beautiful admirerâs own shoulder.
as if in response to the way she stares at her, beneath her lashes and lying again about the possibility of falling asleep like this. they both know she wouldnât, celliniaâs hands find a home against her hips again. the roughness of them even in warm water noticeable against the soft skin, the way her fingertips stroke idle circles into them with an amused hum.)
That relaxed, are you?
(she breathes it out lowly, ah, they may not behave for long. cellinia even has little faith that they could, but thatâs fine in itself. they neednât always behave. not all the time if they desired to cause mischief instead.)
[Sweet Cellinia, already accepting that Mai enjoys her little white lies, and willing to let her do away with personal space in favor of satisfying her whims. She's not an easy person to endure, this girl, for all of her quirks, some more harmless than othersâ but Cellinia seems to be doing well enough, taking her in stride. Time would certainly tell if Mai's greedy clinginess will be too smothering. Life's disappointments have shown her that even asking for too little can be twisted into seeming to be too much, so she's half-given up treading carefully. People can think what they wish of her, and they do. She'll tell herself that she doesn't care too muchâ yet when she's indulged like this, with someone who openly displays her own possessiveness, it almost serves to reinforce her own wicked nature. Why would she ever bother changing, or try to bend herself into someone else's ideal of a 'good girl,' when wearing those sharp thorns proudly has earned her that coveted missing piece?
'I'll make you mine forever.'
How could Mai not feel like the cat who got the cream? And she is every bit that haughty cat, sweetening only for the hand that feeds her, but happy to give a few bites, all the same. She does leave behind the prettiest marks, after all.]
Oh, yeah, I'm plenty relaxed.
[Her voice purrs, following a blissful sigh as she settles further against Cellinia's chest. Once more, they fit together as easily as if they were meant for this, the many different ways they might wish to hold each other close. It's as if the heat has softened their sharp edges even further, making them pliant and obliging to this rare tenderness. Of course, Cellinia envelops her far better than the warm water does, with her hands comfortably upon her hips, and her chin nestled upon her shoulder. The same safe feeling that wrapped her up so snugly in the night tingles familiarly wherever their skin connects, and Mai melts a bit further against her lover's embrace. One of her own hands traces along Cellinia's leg, before finding a few of the love bites she'd left and stroking over them mindlessly. Mm, she probably could have left a few more, right�]
This definitely helps after sleeping on a couch. [She can't help it, she really can'tâ ] But you weren't half-bad, at least.
[Best sleep she's had in a long time, a sentiment that they obviously both share, given how unwilling they were to rise for the day. Cellinia truly made the most wonderful pillow, amongst all of the other things she did to leave Mai nice and sleepy. Even now, she has no complaints at how peaceful it is to settle against her body, taking up space unapologetically in this continuation of their cuddling on that couch she had just bemoaned playfully. And when she tips her head just enough to get a better look at her lover's charming face, she can't resist the urge to keep teasing her a little. Despite being in such a precarious position, right in the middle of a wolf's grasp, Mai just can't bring herself to play the perfect little captive.]
Next time, though, I deserve to sleep in a proper bed. That's not too much to ask, right?
[As if to bolster her sweet-talking request, Mai reaches up to stroke slowly at Cellinia's sharp ears. She rubs and teases the silky fur with her fingertips, before letting her hand drag down somewhat to card through the damp, dark strands of hair. Mai knows it, of course she does, that her ask is only as possible as her willingness to be a good girl and not get carried away like last time. But it's already been established, right? Being good is overrated and hardly as funâ besides, she's almost certain that she'll continue to enjoy frustrating Cellinia, probably as much as Cellinia herself enjoys humoring her mischievous ways.]
(who needed to be good people, truthful and honest, when it gave them this? they traded innocence for the murmurs of something more than that. something wicked in promises to own and be owned. possessive girls, girls that refuse to let go through anything. they sink claws and teeth in deep. cellinia is only acting upon her own hunger and desire. she wants to make this girl hers forever, is what her baser instincts scream. those animalistic and more primal desires. who would willingly take a wolf up on such an offer? nobody sane, nobody desiring something sweet and innocent. their thorns fit too well against one another in how they wrap and ravel around each other. encasing them in a crown of them, something that would hurt those who dared to try and rip them from the girls. rip them apart, even, from how deep they go. all theyâd do is hurt themselves for trying to separate them now that their twisted garden has begun to grow something far lovelier than gentle blooms of flowers in fields and glades. she didnât want mai to change or force change about herself, no, this suited her plenty well. their missing piece, the piece they knew not was found within one another like it had been there this whole time. familiar, something that wraps around them further.
âI want to make you mine.â
she meant those words, she wants to cover her in everything. her scent, her teeth which could just as easily rip someone to shreds yet doesnât. she only bites down for the marks she left, the marks which decorate her loverâs beautiful skin and body. she doesnât mind even carrying maiâs marks, those pretty marks along her neck. those thighs of hers, and her back. no, there wasnât a need to hate it. not even to dislike it. what she does is, she takes this greed and embraces it with her own. how cute, her precious and sweet little wolf responds with similar greediness when it comes to such things about them.
cellinia hums lowly again at that purr, the feeling of maiâs fingers brushing along love bites that she left her. if she did want to leave more of them, who was she to disagree? she almost certainly wouldnât, not while they relax in this warm bath. a warmer embrace that seems to keep them together, melting away the stress and worries they would have typically dealt with. that mattered little, not in how skin to skin they seem to melt away into being something softer than they could have ever been. safety. protection, like those arms would never let go of her if she could help it. perhaps later she can leave a few more of her own marks, would she like that more to have them? or more of her kiss along her skin to light her on fire underneath her skin too, right?)
It was hard to get up....
(few words said, but they were words she meant. it was hard to get up. not in a bad way about being stiff, but in the sense of them not desiring to end their comfortable embrace. like this, when mai tips her head, their eyes lock again as best they may from this position. she doesnât mind that her lover refuses to be a perfect little captive in her den. thatâs what makes it all the more interesting. their bodies are like puzzle pieces for one another, ones which could only melt them further. their edges would never fade, not even the thorns, or how they could stab into anything unwittingly getting too close for comfort. but, that also meant little to them who were unfazed by the sting. instead they embrace it, they let themselves go in tenderness that would never be shared with another lover.
it truly is precarious, no? mai is trapped in her warm embrace, anything could happen that was less than innocent and chaste. though she says nothing for now, nothing more than nuzzling into her shoulder at her fingers teasing those fluffy ears of hers. their sharpness as usual standing out when they twitch in response, the wet fur easy to brush through before maiâs hand makes its way through celliniaâs hair instead. those cute ears almost seemed disappointed she stopped for now. she can behave, she thinks. for how long is not as easy to tell seeing as how mai could frustrate her as she pleases and watch this handsome wolf unravel for her again in the warm water. it all depends on their willingness to behave.)
Itâs not too much to ask for....I did get the sheets swapped out for if we needed a bit more rest.
(would that stay a simple time of rest, truly? the two of them could easily turn that from what would be a small rest into more than that. especially since cellinia almost wonders if she ought to start expecting to sleep nude in how comfortable they both seem to be at the idea of that. sleeping bare and vulnerable, holding one another in such an embrace. how shameless, some might say.)
[Though not truly a proof of ownership, these two lovers have left upon one another a reservation or sorts in those bruises scattered across their bodies. They'll serve as as both a reminder of their shared appetite for one another, and a promise to return and feast again. For a pair of girls who linger at the edges of loneliness, wearing such marks means anchoring themselves to something that is true, rooting them in place for another soul who would dare to bloom with them in spite of the harsh terrain comprising their hearts. It would be a sorry thing to watch these marks fade over time, the dabs of violet disappearing beneath unblemished skin once more. Would it be like the slow waking from a dream, where the details start to become fuzzy, while the proof of hungry adoration becomes no longer obvious? Would their bodies, in an attempt to protect them, try to forget how delectable it felt to have a lover's lips and teeth leaving stinging souvenirs in places where they had demanded them?
Or would the ghosts of those kisses and bites haunt their flesh long after the bruises disappeared beneath the surface? Is that what Cellinia intended with her declaration? That her teeth sink more profoundly than merely skin-deepâ no, she must've gone farther below, leaving behind a more permanent promise where no eyes might ever see. Certainly, this promise is one that draws blood, staining Mai all the more beautifully for her. And it won't show, it isn't something obvious enough for anyone but them to be aware of, but it shall be a stain that blooms like the most dangerous flower in their distorted garden. A mark that finds its only match in one another's souls, whenever the fog of misery lifts enough from their eyes for them to witness the miracle of it for themselves.
For now, though, the haze is still thickâ the images of love, that lamentable and unnecessary feeling, cannot yet be discerned. Nevertheless, it flickers faintly in this haze, unhurried for these lovers to become wise to its swaying presence. They can certainly think themselves only engaging in this little dance for some physical satisfaction. Neither will know of the true consequences of of their union until it's far too late, and delightfully so.]
Funny, that you think we'd be getting any rest over there.
[She raises her eyebrows knowingly at Cellinia's harmless suggestion. There's absolutely nothing innocent that can happen involving the two of them and a bed, considering how they made a right mess of it last night. Does Cellinia already desire to have Mai again, feel her melting beneath her touch and pleading for all of the terrible things that she really shouldn't be? Will they really be able to rest once they've returned to the altar where they've made their sinful vows? No, that passion is already too addictive, and they already know well enough that when it comes to behaving, they're well-matched in their impatience.]
I meant, next timeâ next time I come to get some sleep.
[Because whenever it does happen next, there will be another evening spent in full together. Mai has tasted a good night's rest, a slumber without the plague of horrid dreams and thoughts fraught with a loathing directed at herself. Shameless or not, she experienced a warmth wholly unfamiliar to her, in the way that their flesh kissed one another unimpeded throughout the night. It felt peaceful, natural in its rarity, to lay bare beside one who so easily vowed to cut down anyone who might try to do them harm. No need to wear any cloak of false modesty when they've opened up the more raw parts of themselves, if even for the briefest of moments. Whether they liked it or not, there was no going back to whatever shells of themselves that they had been before.]
Don't try to trap me in your bed, Celliniaâ I don't know if I'd ever make it out in one piece.
[Her sharp laugh echos off the tiled walls, and she tries her best to give Cellinia a kissâ making it as far as cheek from the position their in, and the way her lover is nuzzled into her shoulder. When she considered the idea of being trapped, Mai recalls how well-suited Cellinia was to being bound. Yes, she made the most eye-catching captive, didn't she? Behaving magnificently until Mai beckoned her down the path of retribution under the guise of pleasure. Forget about Mai leaving in one pieceâ whomever finds themselves at the mercy of her moodiness might find themselves wishing that she would be confined in the wolf's sacred altar of wicked love.]
(the bruises might never leave her mind, not even the taste of her. there is nothing to stop her mind from wandering back to it, the thoughts of less than innocent words exchanged. anchoring themselves means opening their respective gardens to the pain and more that would come from allowing vulnerability. vulnerability could end them as much as it could absolve them of the agony theyâve suffered. their skin may heal of the bruises and bite marks, the love bites left sooner rather than later, but that wouldnât stop cellinia from leaving more in their place. sheâd leave so many more. decorate her body in them without a second thought as a monument to this twisted garden that theyâre growing in one another. resisting wonât do her any good on that, not in how she considers it. her teeth sinking into places only mai would know about. covering her in the marks that were demanded as her reward. that promise she ached for of them with cellinia even giving her plenty of new ones that might not fade any time soon themselves.
souvenirs that may never fade away, even, in how their minds would often go back to it. wondering about them. the unending urge to own and be owned in the way theyâve begun to anchor one another. reality could call for them, but that doesnât mean they would lose this. cellinia herself meant more than surface level marks in her wish to haunt and be haunted. permanent promises, their vows while she offers blood in exchange for freedom as one girl deserves herself. truth is something they ignore, because that meant coming to terms sooner with how comfortable they are in each otherâs arms. those consequences could only be part of what leaves its everlasting mark. cellinia is comfortable, her hands idle in how they rub into the skin of her loverâs hips. sheâs not in any rush to move them further. touch alone does plenty for her, but it wasnât something that could satisfy this greed alone. cravings which felt constant to push further.
her darkly given vows and promises would only continue, because who was she to judge the way her lover holds her monsters as something she wants to be removed from her life? from the perpetual nightmare theyâve given her that was so helpfully kept at bay by her wolfâs own warm embrace? but she did know, neither of them would be sleeping. not a single bit or not for long if they found themselves alone in bed together again. it wouldnât be them resting, theyâd be unable to resist the allure of that siren song which calls to them. that song that demands they donât stop feeling this unending hunger, that it doesnât die down while their bodies meet again and again beneath the moon.
on that wicked altar the wolf offers made of bloodstained promises and tender love given from her teeth and claws. her tongue which could lavish her in its own worship from the way cellinia speaks to mai like sheâs every bit what she could have ever desired in this fucked up and miserable excuse of a world. the sinful vows could only keep growing, whispered lowly along her lips and neck when offered it. why wouldnât she oblige to this, after all? the wolf could only be excited by it. that her lover could ever want something so violent and ugly in her presence, so willing to worship her without a second thought in love they do not admit to feeling for many reasons.)
Fair, I think my point last time still stands.
(she said it best last night, didnât she? murmuring how she wouldnât let her sleep while restrained so beautifully for mai. maybe she did desire it, to hear the things mai wants from her. how the idea makes her melt more in the hands of a beast that is too ready to give her such cruel promises for those that she deems the ones she desired to be punished. neither of them would behave long in the grace of this sinful delight and addiction of theirs to touch, passion, and intense cravings. cellinia knows she wouldnât be able to stop herself from wanting to touch her more, from wanting to hear that sound of her lovely voice hitting those notes for her as far better music than what plays on her stereo.
itâs a song in itself to hear, one that cellinia memorizes down to the last note. that restful slumber they had for the first time in ages is only something mutually shared, shameless. theyâre so very shameless, how they long for nights now with their flesh kissing the others. where theyâd hold open their bodies and battered hearts for someone that knows this suffering of theirs too well. vulnerability, the raw feeling of it from someone passing through the cracks while equally injured, itâs another addiction. they could never go back to those days. not any time. she didnât want to, that was clear from what the felt subconsciously.)
Hmm? Youâre fine in my arms, arenât you? I could be gentle for you, how Iâd treat you and touch you.
(she followed down that path given with ease, cellinia who is comfortable and holding her like something to covet. she behaved, behaved under her loverâs touch and murmurs. cellinia can be perfect on a leash and collar when it suits her on that altar they made their vows and promises. the wolf seems to have caught what her lover wants after her lips brush against her cheek when her head tilts just right to catch her lips. the kiss they wanted, likely both craved, given with a soft sigh into maiâs lips.)
[Any manner of absolution from this tormenting existence could only be a welcome reprieve, but did either of them really find themselves deserving of it? Vulnerability was double-edged sword ready to taste the blood it would draw from the clumsiness of being wielded by two love-starved drifters. It's easier to live in the illusion that they're stronger than this weakness, even if they've both tasted the truth last nightâ that they aren't stronger. And even now, this taste dares to linger upon their tongues, further dissolving this futile illusion.
The only things that are real, the only things that are true, are the touches they give one another beneath the warm water. Promised words can be sweet blessings, just as easily as they can become bitter curses, yet these vows can only be certain once they're fulfilled. The disappointment of broken promises isn't unfamiliar to Mai, leaving her to force herself to only believe in whatever misery is in front of her. Yet despite this bleak determination, a part of her heart sneaks around her own blind spots, clinging to these promises of freedom beckoning her to take a taste. More than that, the parts ingrained into her soulâ the part of her that can create something out of nothingâ make her believe that she can craft a reality out of the ghosts they will become. That a worthwhile life can be born from this curse of death, and that these temporary touches can one day become a lasting embrace.
Cellinia has found what she has yearned for in this unlikely lover, and she, too, is what Mai would have desired in her lonely wishes to escape, to be protected and cherishedâ loved, even, if she could be so greedy and shameless for such a gift. Perhaps, before now, her wishes were merely aimed in the wrong direction, focused towards a target that was ever-moving. An impenetrable target, made so by the world that they shared, though a world that had shaped Mai differently due to her own weakness. Yet, her long-held wished for this devotion and dedication somehow found their way to the right person, one who was shaped similarly by a treacherous past. She was far from a white knight, but Cellinia could be a champion nonetheless, vanquishing the monsters and restoring a sad girl's feelings of worth. Violence and ugliness, the world was so full of of those thingsâ hiding within curses, family strife and broken promisesâ that Cellinia and her blood-drenched vows are the most beautiful offerings that Mai could ever hope to have in her hands.]
Right, I bet.
[She remembers, of course, that heated threat to keep Mai just out of the arms of sleep, so long as their bodies find themselves entangled in bed again. Mai scoffs humorously at the brief recollection, Cellinia's reminder that she is every bit a wolf in her appetite, as well. That's fineâ not sleeping is favorable to whatever nightmares that would certainly break through, finding a sure way to shatter their reverie. Mai would rather Cellinia drain every last bit of resistance from her bones, not leaving a shred of energy left for any terrible dreams to latch onto and take root. Sure, they can sleep eventually, when it's all they have the strength left to do after their passionate efforts. A dual payout, reallyâ indulging in that sweet ecstasy that Mai has never felt at another's hands before, and basking in the reprieve from the terrors that feed upon a vulnerable mind.
If she could will it, she would hope to dream of only Cellinia, even if her wolf was but a breath away, slumbering sweetly in her arms. But, of course, nothing is better than being able to have her in the waking moments. She'd feast upon her until her mind is full of nothing else but her lover, pushing out the monsters in favor of all of the ways that making love to her would haunt Mai splendidlyâ every kiss and touch, every shudder, those eyes that behold her, and that soothing voice that dedicates every cry and sigh and promise to Mai, and Mai alone.
Even now, she is afflicted by the same cravings that seize her lover. The soft sigh that Cellinia gifts to her in relief at resuming their kisses is responded to with a pleased hum. Addiction is rearing its head again, making her heart quicken with excitement that she gets to be as greedy as she wants, without anyone to stop her. She is most certainly fine in Cellinia's arms, if only because Cellinia won't deny her for a moment.]
Could you, now? That's a scary offer.
[She teases softly, smirking in their kisses while her fingers move to stroke at the back of her lover's head. Gentleness is rather frightening for someone who's only known cold severity. But, she won't refuse itâ she wants it, just like she wants everything she can take from this curiously generous wolf.]
Are you sure it wouldn't be more fun for you to just pick my bones clean, right now?
(absolution may never come, but that was something they both knew was undeserved of them to dare dream and believe theyâd ever be freed of their sins. theyâre starved of love, a drop of it being something they found hard to ignore. to be rid of. the sweet taste of it on their tongues could only damn them further. but that in itself has no argument, there is no room for it. the blood on the lips of the wolf, on her tongue and teeth that would stain their kiss. they can pretend, theyâre far better off pretending that theyâre not as weak as they often felt on occasion. that this wouldnât make them pathetic when the slow realization comes in that there was some manner of spark felt between their love hungry souls. where they find themselves beginning in this new reality to realize they were falling, that theyâve fallen so hard and so fast that itâs not like them. that this must be a joke the world and this fucked up universe has decided to play upon them for their longing.
what they do not know is this only becomes realer with each tick of the clock, every passing second causes them to fall deeper past the line theyâve crossed so readily. disappointment is something venomous in itself, the way that it can wrap around already tired hearts and wear them down further. hearts are interesting, but the way they could make someone feel alive again is another thing in itself. she would allow herself to be damned, damned against everything that clings to them. heaven is what they make it, this freedom she would grant her lover is something they could carefully craft themselves. they needed nobody but their own two hands which were worn and torn apart by everything. these ghosts could only become part of their souls, because as useless as their unsightly hearts are, that meant little to what they found themselves in one another. sheâs what she wished for most, a goddess that knows her pain without them saying it. that something is deeply understood without them knowing.
she gives her something that mai wanted, that love and protection that they hadnât realized. her arms fit around her like a shield, cherished, even in all the greed she has. this is a heart that so rarely is given, granted freely to those that who may get close enough. a heart that has been battered, destroyed, and treated to all the illness within this world. dragged down and threatened to stay in the dark while they could only breathe. they can only pray, hope, that they might find anew kindness that had been ripped away from them. love that they lost, affection that had been cut apart by everything. stomped out embers of being cherished, of what remains of what had been parts of themselves that once lived. once breathed, but she feels alive. the wolf feels it, she even sees it in the way maiâs eyes may light up at the little things done thus far. how she seems so lively, so beautiful when she gets that smug look on her face. how she feels self-assured or tries to be regardless of her lowly views that cellinia did not know about.
now that is true beauty, even as she listens to her and remembers that heated promise. yes, she would have done her job well. sheâd have worn her out thoroughly, into tender dreams where this beast and her hunger chase away nightmares. all the nameless monsters that lie in wait would be no match for her, her bloodstained champion. a black knight instead of a white knight who had been shaped by this wretched world into the beast that she is. still a beast, a wolf and wild. free while promising the same to any woman insane enough to risk themselves to get that far. the right person who would return to her, covered in their blood or allow her that privilege to watch while wiping away their filth from her body. to give into passion there whether she had been injured or not amidst the chaos she gave them for their much larger sins of mistreating this girl. this goddess, princess, and her little red riding hood she has in those ink covered arms.)
One that I mean.
(she murmurs into the kiss, maybe sheâd even push away those nightmares with this alone. gentleness, the haunting of her lips and touch. in both ways sheâd do that. sheâd keep her awake until mai felt ready to give in to slumber, a restful sleep that could only be granted by celliniaâs own rough and worn hands. how theyâd take so very good care of her while she carries on those notes she adores hearing, her voice is another thing cellinia loves to hear. the soft sighs, the hums, and how sheâd moan so prettily when being claimed by this wolf. this beast of hers that would hardly ever find herself satisfied with only that alone.
haunting her is only part of it, the rest? the rest is claiming her properly as hers, whenever that day may come. sheâll mark her nice and proper. with teeth tenderly sinking into her neck and not moving to clamp down further. enough to give her the love only a beast could have. how it might feel to know that she could end her, but doesnât from this love that they know not they felt together since the moment they first kissed. itâs only fitting, fitting that she does that while treating her to what it means to belong to a wolf. to a wild wolf.)
It wouldnât be as worth it if I did that, picking you clean.
(careful, little wolf, you might make her fall for you more with that. or is that the intention without you both realizing? to say that, that you wouldnât want to pick her bones clean and leave. that she would hold her in her arms, treat her so tender and gently that she would never want to leave her den? her bed, even?)
[Oh, they've not a single clue that yes, the universe is indeed enjoying a little laugh from the union of these two forlorn loversâ though not at their expense. No, what it finds most humorous is the slow tipping of the scales once more, a well-deserved vengeance that simmers beneath the surface of a rain-drenched desert, and a love that will dare to resurface the harsh terrain that birthed two terrorized, embittered hearts. It shall delight in watching them fall into the rhythm of this unfamiliar dance, the realization of these shared feelings unfurling at their feet like the prettiest, most poisonous flowers springing to life. For how could the universe look upon their weary hearts with mocking cruelty, when the longing that interlaces these two together is so sweet, sweet enough for even the universe, in its grand infinity, to desire a taste of for itself?
Because it is already so very precious, this commencement of affections that are simply the answers to brokenhearted prayers. If only to assuage their brittle pride, they can pretend that they haven't been yearning for such a connection as much as they'd like to, until the truth of it refuses to be suffocated any longer. It's far too easy to lie beneath the harsh light of the day, after all, and tuck these feelings into the long shadows cast by the sun. But the merciless night strips them of this makeshift defenseâ when everything is bathed in shadow, where else can they hide from the emotions they had hoped to bury and flee from? And now, after the watchful moon has retreated after baring their darkness to one another, can these lovers truly continue to pretend that they can walk away unblemished by the other's thorns?
Ah, but how they shall long for more nights together, after coming to the silent conclusion that one was not nearly enoughâ and yet, how oblivious they are that is the night itself that has ruined them so magnificently. For the kisses they share now are far different than the ones hungrily indulged in yesterday afternoon. The tender words exchanged here carry a different weight than the easy flirtations traded as they satiated their frustrations discreetly in Cellinia's car. And when her wolf wraps her arms around her now, Mai can only feel the profound safety imbued in her throughout their night-long embrace.]
Hmm. It almost sounds to me like you're trying to play the long game, then.
[Doesn't it? Wanting to keep her forever, and treating her gently as she does, rather than sending her back in pieces as soon as she's had her fill. How endearingâ and perhaps Mai does fall just the tiniest bit more, whether or not she's aware of it. There's an unmistakable warmth in her eyes that alights in response to this reassurance, and when she brings their lips closer for another kiss, it is one that lingers more noticeably than those that came before. She can't deny it, that she definitely would have faulted Cellinia terribly if she had decided made a quick meal of Mai, instead. Time and time again, she's had to endure this very decision made for her, but now it slowly dawns on Mai, creeping into the openings of her heart split apart by the beautifully scheming nightâ that she tires of it. She tires of being left behind, of never being enough, of being forced to swallow fear when all she wants is to feel safe. And she tires of always being hurt, while never being loved.
There isn't a doubt in her mind that Cellinia means every word she says. And even if Mai can't bring herself to say it aloud, she believes her. Instinctively, she brings the hand that was upon her lover's leg to her own hip, where she caresses Cellinia's hand, there. That secure feeling burgeons beneath her skin, warming her far better than the heat of the water that envelops them both.]
You're a lot more patient than I would have guessed.
[It goes without saying that Cellinia is patient where Mai is sorely lackingâ though when it comes to that decision that the wolf had placed in her hands, that major decision, it's not a matter of patience on Mai's part. Rather, it's the fear that she still finds herself choking on. Yet if she can burrow in the safety that Cellinia promises, then that fear might someday loosen it's deadly hold on her. This wolf's patience shall be put to the test, but the reward promises to be oh so satisfying.]
I'm still deciding if I like it. But, I guess you're welcome to go on and savor me to your heart's content, until I figure it out.
[One more white lie to be filed awayâ of course she likes it. Mai claims another kiss, a savoring of her own because why let Cellinia have all the fun? Though, Mai craves something deeper, a more intimate connection. This position, though comfortable and sweet, hinders her desire, and so she draws herself forward so that she may shift and face Cellinia properly. Oh, but not even this is enough for herâ she braces her hands on the edge of the tub behind her lover's back while moving to place her knees on either side of Cellinia's hips, straddling her lap. Much better. Now she may kiss her unimpeded, and Mai still wants to lather those cute ears of hers. She can do all of it easily enough, in this position. Yes, they're still behaving⊠]
(behave. itâs a soft reminder, behave. behave as theyâre faced with something theyâve craved for so long that theyâve become numb to it. as the universe delights in their foolishness, at forlorn love and a pair of girls who have suffered the worst it has to offer in differing ways. this world could mock and destroy them further; it would even gleefully watch the way this filth at their ankles sinks them down. engulfing them as it grips on their bodies, dragging into the sand and blood that awaits them everything that it could. this taste it desires could even be perceived as another desire to play with them while they wish more to keep close what precious little theyâve had. cellinia perhaps more than anyone, feels that way about how she would refuse to let go of what semblance of warmth she has. she longed for it, she never wanted to let go again. to lose what she has while struggling grandly against the odds. she pretends with ease that she didnât want this. that the wolf could do without anything deeper, but reality is often crueler and more honest than she could ever be.
those brokenhearted prayers, hope, and desires were futile. pride was something fickle, something that others abused to stomp upon those that were weaker. but itâs suffocating. how could one woman ignore it? much less two, both of them do themselves no favors in their ignorance and damning. they hide their hearts, what remains of them, and long to fill whole underneath it all. yet finding that someone has a steep price, a price perhaps too heavy for their already tired souls. longing destroys, so does letting in someone that would abuse that in a desire to feel love. that love which they so grant one another without realizing, the tender poison while those poisonous flowers in their garden they share lie in wait to one day bloom beautifully into something wicked. something that would never allow in another soul that might try to break it apart. nobody else could enter their world, their world of blood and rain. their world of thorns pricking into their skin as they fall apart to what had been missing, they need not admit that.
because itâs clear as day, they want more than a single night. that night which ruined them without thinking about it could only wait in the background, how it flexes itâs grasp on their minds to sink into them. their kisses, their flirtations, are different from what had been part of an idea that itâs only purely physical. physical love is easier, easier to those who might detach only for it to crush the ones that thirst for more. that are too tired of being used by those around them. itâd suffocate them more to deny that they crave beyond it, but weaknesses would often be used against them in many ways. in celliniaâs old world, itâd even kill those foolish enough to allow themselves to be weak. to open their hearts knowing that the cost is past something that can be paid with money. that could only be paid in blood when love comes into the picture.
she would know it, she denied love to one poor soul who felt it towards her often. for her, it was nothing. a chase of something physical, less than satisfactory. but that was a pair of young girls fooling around, or what could be thought of as along those lines as one woman sought to claim her as her own. it failed, if only because cellinia does not allow herself to be tied down by anyone. she is still wild, still free, but she knows what she thinks she wants. what this wolf wants is seeping into reality from this dreamlike world theyâre within together. she could see that light in maiâs eyes, how it reacts to learning she wonât pick her bones clean and leave. did she get hurt by people who did that often, is something the wolf thinks about for the moment. how much of it was pain caused by others who came into her bed? they must have never treated her with tender love, only a desire to get theirs and leave while offering promises that were never going to be fulfilled by the women that wanted her for the night.
how tired this girl must be to seek out warm affections from a beast who could have just as easily snapped her jaws on her for trying. she does not lash out, she only holds her. a pair of hands comfortably around her waist while offering more warmth than they had ever gave her. the wolf is something sweet in how some might think her words are lies, that she must be searching for a meal. reality as is typical, is not something theyâd consider. she doesnât look at her as a meal between each lingering kiss, the words were something she means in those whispers and vows. the darkly given promises of blood waiting to be spilled if mai gives her wolf and wicked knight the word. itâs instinct that causes her hand to pause its movements to relax in her loverâs hold. the brush of her soft fingers against rough skin, itâs soothing in itself.
warm, protective in how cellinia holds her. reassuring that theyâd both grant this safety to each other that has long since avoided them. patience is something she knows too well, cellinia is patient despite the way she can be hungry for mai to the point of surpassing it. sheâs one of the more calmer predators that someone could ever dream about. willing to wait, willing to allow her to feel more than that fear which grips her by the throat and chokes her. this wolf is offering her goddess quite the rewards if she did decide one day soon to answer that desire for bloody vengeance that has been long overdue for her kin.)
I can be patient, more than I can come off as.
(but thatâs only part of the fun, the wait. the long hunt, she would chase this girl and give her everything that those fools never had. sheâd shower her in affections that only the broken could give, while making more tender love to her the more these nights carry on between them. not just the urge for sex, for something physical, but seeking past that in how their warmth can only be shared between their weary souls. their bitter and jaded hearts which would have wept and called this a mockery of the pain theyâve suffered. she can tell her remark is another lie, another attempt at hiding it. how much she likes it, how much this girl craves it while sitting in her lap and indulging in kisses which theyâd get carried away eventually in sharing. all despite the word given that theyâd both behave long enough to bathe.
the wolf is dragged from her idle thoughts when mai shifts, her hands temporarily parting from her loverâs body while she watches her move to face the wolf proper. amber eyes land again on hazel, the two of them face to face while her little red riding hood straddles her. itâs instinct that causes cellinia to wrap her arms back around her, to rest one along her back while the other returns to itâs spot against her hip. between the kiss her lover takes, and how she savors it. cellinia reminds herself again, she must behave, but it feels impossible from the line before their eyes. how misbehaving is a temptation that is dangling without issue, waiting for them to step over it and fall again.)
Iâd always wait. Thatâs not even something I could deny.
[Cellinia can see it clearly, can't she? The miasma of listlessness towards life that weeps from Mai's spirit and threatens to suffocate any pure-hearted fool who would never know her burdens. How perceptive the big bad wolf has always been, with her keen eyes that do not fail to catch the threads weariness in the bearing of this proud girl who dared to stroll into her den. And Mai is no fool, her own heart so terribly wicked, that she doesn't think that Cellinia is unable to see what she conceals from most with her uninviting exterior and acerbic tongue. That she cannot feel the way that Mai comes to life again from being held like the treasure she might have been in another life. Even if those precious eyes might still will themselves to be ignorant of love's advent, they can be privy to nearly everything elseâ is it not what this stubborn girl wishes for, at her lonesome depths, to be truly seen for every sorry facet she wears? That her body could be more than merely a means to an end, and beheld for the beautiful cage it is, one where her true longings are condemned to wither and perish?
It's funny, how much easier physical love alone can be. That any amorous pair can simply bare their bodies to one another, not an ounce of love required for the way they'll give and take in their passions. All they would need are lips to bite and feast, hands to grab and possessâ but only for a spell, because what is a claim without love, other than a pleasure that is just as fleeting as any other that can be grasped at in this life? Cellinia can think of her past dalliances as being nothing, for Mai certainly will of her ownâ nothing but an escape from the inescapable, the anguish that is never too far behind. Yet, what they have now, together, is certainly far from nothing. When they pressed their bodies together, the wounds of their heart practically wept in relief, the blood of their painful short years mingling like a most poisonous curse.
But isn't the yearning for a love that can only be paid for with tainted blood such a marvel? How could it be anything other than the highest price and the highest honor? Surely, both Mai and Cellinia have witnessed such currency change hands before, if only from their family's dealings, legitimate or otherwise. They were two well-pedigreed young women, raised in the grandeur of acclaimed lineages whose wealth of achievements were held before them as examples of how they ought to prove their worth. Every honor and every accolade that could ever matter in their critical eyes has a priceâ and generously-spilled blood would triumph every time.
That it should be no different for this budding romance of theirs, is something that these lovers can leave out of their thoughts, for now. Their hands are still unsullied, as they brush against one another's affectionately beneath the water.]
You're a humble one, aren't you?
[Yes, she's plenty aware that her wolf is merely stating an unadorned truth, but the teasing still falls from her well-kissed lips easily enough. A truthfulness slithers beneath the banterâ Mai can forgive that Cellinia's patience far exceeds her own, but she refuses to accept a humility that is unbecoming of a beast so magnificent. The image of her wolf's lifeless eyes is irrevocably seared into her mind, after all. She can hardly fathom what atrocities had caused you to fall to such depths, Cellinia, but she can certainly believe that whatever strength it took to claw out of that abyss is worth the dignity that it deserves. So what, if even this pride is one that puts her own fragile ego to shame? One day, even Cellinia with her perceptive eyes, can see that Mai has long-since accepted that her own self-assurance would forever pale in the face of those whose tenacity she'd quietly admire.]
I guess I'll have to watch you carefully, hm? Do you think I can learn a thing or two, then?
[About nurturing a patience that could keep her impulsive nature at bay for as long as they decide to be involved with each other. Sardonically, she laughs again, their lips but a hairsbreadth apart between these soft kisses. Perhaps she means it only in jest, teasing the possibility of being a good enough student for once in her life to learn a virtue that seemed ill-placed in her character to begin withâ a goddess, sitting at the feet of her own devotee. How amusing she finds you, sweet wolf, that she would flirt with the idea of following your example and taking a lesson in patience, of all things, from a beast. Let patience remain the folly of humans, along with humilityâ but Cellinia does wear both so attractively.
She draws back from their kisses, already impatient for more, and already accepting that she could never, ever truly cloak herself in such a virtue for the sake of handling these curious new feelings with the gentleness one would expect. Her hands stroke along Cellinia's ears againâ can't she ever get enough, greedy girl?â and over her steam-dampened hair, until they find themselves cupping her jaw. Mai looks down at her from this position, and the thoughts of her lover's strange perfection tumble in her mind. There are the parts of her that are frightening, that would give any sane person pauseâ her wolfish features and the canvas of her flesh sporting well-storied tattoos and scars. Then there are aspects of her that are rather adorable, those same sharp ears that give Mai the sweetest reactions when she indulges in her impulse to play with them. And there are the parts that Mai finds utterly arrestingâ Cellinia's beauty, her eyes so reverent, and the siren song that her dark heart beckons to Mai with. How could all of this be hers, be Mai's? The laws of this universe must be breaking, broken, just as they had been the moment she took her first breath.
Mai keeps these thoughts to herself, of course, as her thumbs caress idly at Cellinia's cheeks, but the silence has gone on a beat too long for her to hide these thoughts behind a snarky remark or another greedy kiss. Could this be another mistake, that she lets her walls fall a bit more, this way? That she doesn't make the effort to distract Cellinia from her mind's wandering with another good-natured barb? Perhaps what she wishes to do next might count as a distractionâ though more for herself, than anything. She reaches for one of the shampoo bottles she had lined up, and with her free hand, rubs at one of Cellinia's ears again.]
Let me�
[A question only asked out of the courtesy of voicing her intentions. Much like the other times she has played the well-mannered young miss (a joke, for she was only ever passable at best), she lets the facade crumble upon itself in favor of letting her true amusement shine through.]
(it isnât difficult, not for someone like her thatâs gone through it to recognize that. the listlessness, going through the motions in everything presented to her. like death could come at any time, and she didnât care for anything more than if itâd be sooner rather than later. thereâs something unique in it. something that can draw attention when life is breathed into those that were at the edge of being utterly broken. falling to pieces and becoming nothing more than empty shells of what they once were in their respective lives, of formerly innocent girls that had become worn down by the world rapidly. sheâs good at noticing it, perceptive in most things. itâs impossible for her to not know after having first-hand experience in it. playing ignorant never was cellinia in some ways, she didnât like to. not when she looks at this girl like a goddess, a treasure for her. theyâre both lonesome souls, unable to help the way their longing can both damn and free them. ever-growing while reaching through those cracks in their thorn covered cages for something beautiful. try as they may to snuff it out, it never worked. it rarely did, cellinia would tell herself often letting down her guard is a bigger weakness yet she finds herself unable to help it. here, in her arms while their minds wander in thought about this feeling they canât explain. this love colored feeling that doesnât go away while they pretend that it isnât any further past physical.
physical love, it could be easier. not to think too much, to touch and consume then move on while pretending they would be fine. that something more was not worth the effort in their lives while ignoring that spark, the spark which struck between them. sometimes people might find it easier to act as though that never happened, cellinia can be guilty of it knowing her past with one person. she wonât think much about it with the number of people mai might have been hurt by with the expectation of desiring more, of wanting more than a single night only for it to go ignored by those she cried out to silently. this is more than that nothing they gave her, their bodies fit together nicely and that poison of love they ignore mingles through their veins. in their blood, their hearts, how far down could it go? might it reach their souls? rot them further in love and venom that could only be shared in a curse as ruinous as this that theyâve cast upon one another?
exchanges like this, promised with tainted blood and love are always dangerous, risky. watching as grown men give up their lives for this, their honor and their everything like theyâve realized they amount to nothing without it. without love, theyâre nothing. without the object of their desire, theyâre worthless. worthless fools who could only be strung about like puppets dancing for those that might even find their pain funny, how far theyâre willing to go or if theyâd pay the ultimate price for the honor bestowed upon them. as girls of their pedigree, itâs only natural theyâve seen it themselves. how love ruins and destroys them. how anything could destroy people from their respective worlds, prices were paid at a large cost and they would know it. because theyâve seen it so often, cellinia herself has. even in the world of plays that she had been dragged to by another friend in her childhood that wished to indulge in the arts. that saw herself as a playwright as time went on with the desire to write them. but cellinia did not care for wealth, the grandeur of it. she saw throwing it around as pointless.
blood might be spilled, eventually. their hands could not remain clean forever, yet thatâs a given. for a romance like theirs, there would be no innocence. no fairy-tale could compare to what this story would bring them. theyâd make them all pale in comparison to it, to their own lives which twist and turn. that the darkly given vows would only grow further as they keep falling harder, more for this goddess before the wolf and this wolf before her. but enough about that, their hands are more busy in tender affections given to one another as they lounge in the bath.)
Mm, Iâm not one for bragging.
(arrogance was never her thing, what they get instead is cold truth. the atrocities of the past were many, none good. nothing sheâd ever mention when their lips part briefly, barely any space is there between them. humility is something imparted in her. something that she never let go of even once, her strength is only in part due to her own resolutions. her decision in knowing what she could have had happened. had she gone another way, she would have been lost. maybe she might show you, mai, how far sheâs willing to go for you. how much sheâs willing to give in her own desire to push out of despair. despair, death, and blood that had grown to be a common occurrence. tenacity that she held like it was something her life depended on whenever cellinia had begun to piece herself together again. this strength, however, is not easy to obtain, and she recognizes that. not everyone has it in them to keep going after what sheâs gone through. breaking from a cycle is never easy.)
Maybe. Thatâs if you want to.
(if she wants to be a good student, maybe this wolf can show her goddess so much more. plenty more than their respective worlds could have given her. they didnât deserve to have these delights that she would give mai, the romance and how sheâd touch her. the gifts she gives her goddess that sits comfortably in her lap while she stops her head from wandering into less than chaste thoughts from their closeness. she finds you endearing, beautiful goddess, knowing that would be a struggle. she wouldnât make you learn these lessons unless you desired it. a lesson in which theyâd both find themselves taking their time more. but, mai wears impatience so well. as she does, her smugness, her pride. cellinia finds them both attractive parts of her love to the point of often saying it.
ah, even cellinia wants more kisses whenever they part again. she doesnât look away, not from her lover with those reverent eyes. how they stare so full of devotion once more. those ears of hers twitch into the strokes of soft fingers while her wolf starts to melt again to the touch theyâre granted. they do (of course) droop in disappointment to her hands leaving again. fickle things that delight in the affection she gives them, but she canât divert her gaze. cellinia finds herself getting lost in her, in her eyes while their poor darkened hearts call out to one another. a demand and a wish for this love theyâve been starved of for so long. this girl, she wants to make her so badly into hers. only hers. theyâd never stop her if cellinia had her say, not even the universe would prevent her from that desire. the broken rules of it could burn, too.
she neednât think too much while leaning into her loverâs hands, a kiss pressed to the palm of one at first while maiâs thumbs rub into fair cheeks. the distraction of her hand going back to her ears is helpful, to deter any other thoughts from breaching into their dream. reality being pushed away again while cellinia melts to maiâs hand giving her ears attention. the ear she strokes happily twitches into it while her wolf nuzzles against her hand. how cute of her, before her attention falls back on the now. on mai speaking and holding that bottle, this is another privilege not so easily granted. touching her ears, theyâre sensitive, you know? because of that, thereâs only one thing that can be said. knowing that mai has earned this rarest of privileges.)
Go ahead, Mai, touch them as much as you want to. Be careful, they can be sensitive....
(setting herself up for future trouble, but itâs apparent that her ears are sensitive. her tail even is in a certain spot, were mai to reach for the base and stroke at it more. aside from the typical with not wanting it pulled roughly or too hard. that would make her bite any poor bastards that went that far.)
[For all of the expectations that their families had placed upon them, it seems as if these world-weary lovers are faring much more successfully in their unique quest for a meaningful honor, compared to their powerful kinsmen who so readily give into viciousness for the sake of a blood-stained glory. Those foolishly proud warriors shall dance upon their strings, veritable puppets in the hands of shadowy figures who only ever intend to maintain the status quo. Even Mai, mired in sin as she is, can recognize that chasing family honor is tantamount to chasing one's own demise. And she has stopped wishing that it wasn't so, even if it means that she'll live with the secret fear that the other half of her heart might one day stop beating for good because of this futile pursuit. Why can't love be enough to stem such an arrogance? Yet Mai has known so pitifully little of it in her short life, that even she can often be swayed by how easy it is to eschew such a frivolous emotion in favor of accolades that merit boasting.
Though, of course bragging isn't Cellinia's style. Another hallmark of one who has found their rhythm in an otherwise ruthless world. Her life can speak for itself, the untethered way she lives her days. And whoever she answers toâ for doesn't everyone answer to someone, no matter how free one is?â must not leash her all that tightly, if at all. That alone might be something brag-worthy, if Cellinia would ever give herself the indulgence.
Really, what else does boasting serve, other than a way to fill a bothersome and profound emptiness with lofty words? As much as she loathes it, Mai can recognize this in her own attitude, a compulsion she doesn't even bother fighting. There are quite a few aspects of her life that she is reluctant to challenge, aren't there? Like the chains of her bloodline shackling her tightly to the source of her own despair, knowing she'll return no matter how badly she might hope to flee. Still, despite being so love-starved and afraid to sever her own bonds, something in the way Cellinia watches her dares to reinforce the possibility that she can still deserve to be rebuilt after she shatters apart for this affection. Maybe she can't be patient, or humble, or even strong enough to hold her ownâ but could she be something to be loved forever? What would she have to do, what would she have to change, for her to truly be certain of it? What a questionâ she thought she had long since grown tired of asking it.
Mai is painfully aware, that if she wished to be anything different, she would just be a sorry imitation of the brilliant examples of true freedom around her, right? It's hard enough to fathom becoming a better iteration of her sorry self, joking suggestions aside. Cellinia's nonchalant reply makes it clear that she doesn't wish to impress any change that Mai isn't willing to make. Another thing this wolf recognizes, surely, is that her own tenacity is in a class unparalleled.]
It's always, 'if you want you,' with you.
[There isn't any real gravity in the frustration within this remark, but it would be a lie if Mai didn't find herself struggling a bit with the freedom of choice that Cellinia never fails to offer her. Surely it's nothing more than generosity, a marked lack of pushiness that is otherwise commonplace in Mai's life. Her keen wolf might even be able to see that it's still difficult to shake old habitsâ ones that have Mai drawn to easy decisions, a path she doesn't need to think too hard about because everything is already outlined for her. She hates it, of course, hates every decision she has been powerless to stop. And maybe she hates that she can see a divergence in this structured path, now, one that Cellinia's influence creates for her, whether her lover is aware of this or not.
If Mai is fortunate, this perceptive wolf might not be able to sense her trepidation at taking the first step upon this forked road. She'll dare to turn away from the familiar, and reach into the haze of hushed promises and a warmth that she might happily let burn her alive.]
Oh, I know they are.
[She murmurs, her palm tingling from the kiss Cellinia gives her there. Mai knows that those ears are rather sensitive to touch, especially those of a more tender nature. How adorable, that they so clearly miss her fingers when they droop the second that they're bereft. It's such an easy affection to give, that Mai is only too happy to do so. The sight, the feel of Cellinia nuzzling into her touch as soon as she resumes is something that Mai cherishes with obvious pleasure. Her eyes light up at the permission given. It's far better than a mere 'Yes, go ahead,' or some other dry manner of approval. Cellinia makes it plain that Mai has the special privilege of touching as much as she wants to, so long as she does so with care.]
Don't worry, I'll be nice and gentle for you.
[She'll coo it almost suggestively, though she'll no doubt keep her word. Let not the sparkle of mischief in her eyes give the impression of any hidden, wicked intentions. Mai will be good, and she'll show you that she's just as capable of behaving, Cellinia. Yes, she can be a surprisingly good girl when she has something that she wants to proveâ a worthiness, in this case, of handling something so delicate. It's fitting, for her hands were never meant for the harshness of battle or gruesome slaughtering. Mai would much rather have luxurious, plush sensations beneath her fingertips. In another lifetime, she supposes, if she had been born the talented niece of the family head, instead of the disappointment she ended up being. A pointless cycle of terrible thoughtsâ Mai is perfectly fine making do with what she has before her, now. The beautiful, soft ears of a strangely patient wolf are quite the consolation prize, no? One might think them better than any finery she might have enjoyed had her position in life been any less dismal. She can do it, Mai believesâ she can return the favor and treat Cellinia like she herself is a treasure.
Who can say, this might be a rare privilege for the wolf to have for herself, a sweeter Mai that so few are ever so lucky to experience. And the others who have been witness to this side of her aren't without scratches and bruises from her callous natureâ ah, but Cellinia has earned herself a fair handful of her own, hasn't she? Though, of a far different natureâŠ
No matter, Cellinia has asked her to treat her carefully, and so Mai shall do just that. Slowly, she scoops handfuls of water gently over her ears and hair, stroking her head gently whenever her palm is empty. She takes particular care not to spill anything over her lover's face or past the protective fluff of the wolfish ears, humming thoughtfully to herself periodically as she carries out her task. It's an exercise in tenderness, one that she thinks herself clumsy at despite doing well enough. She wants more chances, after all, of enjoying those sweet ears that twitch happily for her.
One satisfied, Mai pours a bit of shampoo between her hands and begins to lather it at Cellinia's crown to start. The soft fragrance fills the steamy air between them, a scent that Mai wouldn't mind breathing in deeply whenever she cuddles against her lover next. Her fingers then ease the bubbles over the slick fur of Cellinia's ears, and a rather agreeable smile plays upon her lips as she gets to indulge in this little act of grooming. She only half-stifles a laugh at how darling Cellinia looks like this, with the dark fur contrasting against the pale foam.]
(fighting for oneâs own family was only a slippery slope that could worsen at any time, giving up everything for love and their honor was another thing in itself. men would die gladly for one kiss that was rarely if ever granted to them, women would cry themselves to sleep and die broken as they lose what they once held as precious to them. there isnât any coming back from that, not the pain that would be suffered for their efforts. blood would fall upon them like rain while the taint of it drowns them in an unending storm. would it be worth it? the answer is a mystery. worth is decided by those who live, the survivors of their once dreary hell they came from. blood does little for those that were in true agony, the ones that leave are always those who are stronger and willing to destroy what they had to as a means of living behind their past. destroy it all, burn it away down to nothing but ashes remaining. death is granted freely for those willing to stop a woman or man that has nothing left to lose. standing in their way does little more than anger them, make them kill the fools that were willing to try interrupting. to try and force them away back into the fold against their very wills. thatâs even why lone wolves exist, lone wolves like this beautiful and handsome one that falls into an easy rhythm presented before her. love itself is an arrogant thing, saying it knows better while also swaying those under that venomous spell to give up everything that makes them for it.
that love is all theyâd ever need in this cruel world. she steps about with her world unrestrained, alive. nothing could stop her and not even her boss cares to do such a thing, if she was still breathing and alive, then who was he to stop that? her indulgences were a part of her living, just the same way that she offers a chance at holding the leash to an animal such as herself. that wolf who allows herself calmly to wait until that day her teeth would be stained in blood and the blood of those who sullied a goddess. the taint of it being something that would never wash away easily. not as long as she breathes, not as long as they seek to hurt this poor lonesome girl.
how is that not something worthy of bragging about? look at this beautiful beast, this beast which mai has in her hands. she can hold her, she can touch her as she pleases. even watch as this beast brings the world to her, at her feet and held out as an offering from this disgraceful and sinful knight. her sins which would never be absolved, used as a means of entangling them further into one another. their souls mingling, their hearts holding tightly on to what is dangled out before them. why wouldnât they? they longed for love, they ignore it so desperately without knowing that itâs too late for them to step away from what it deemed to be their time. this sweetness that would suffocate and drown them together in rain and blood. let that garden bloom, the venomous flowers of poison and darkly whispered vows. change is not something the wolf would force upon her goddess, but she would surely be there in their eternal vows as the one thatâd never leave her side. that sheâd surrender to her love as a means of showing her that she may rebuild the same way this broken mess of a woman before the little goddess did. the answer to her questions would take time, and cellinia herself could not answer them for her.
she recognizes not the way mai hesitates to take the first step, but this is a dance of two. in harmony, they must step about, they must dance and move the way the rhythm before them dictates. or the way that cellinia might bring them both true freedom in how she grants these choices, allowing her more than the suffocating feeling of oppression that came from the forced decisions of monsters that felt it necessary to press upon this girl their ideas. their means of calling agony to her tired mind and body could only be considered another mark to the list of misdeeds that were committed to this girl. all which would be paid in blood when the time comes, if ever, for such a thing to be done by her willing knight. when she said that this choice is maiâs own, she means it. humility is not something cellinia expects of her, truly, she expects this girl to be whatever she feels her true self must be. be it that goddess who in all her pride stands above the men and women, the wretched bastards who did this to her as being absolved of their damnation or as the little red riding hood who wants to be whisked away by a wolf.
cellinia means the words âif you want toâ as placing upon mai freedoms that were never granted to her, not without the intention of abusing it for whatever choice they felt she made wrong. her lover may not be aware of it, not of how her presence causes her goddess to have her perception changed, but itâs interesting. the way that she breaks the maze to pieces while giving mai more ways to traverse it. showing her each path, her pace set about on a slow trail while calling out from hidden shortcuts or walls that cellinia destroyed personally. thatâs only fitting she did, she has that way about her. dancing along while pausing in her wild steps, the steps of a storm called a beast and woman, to treat a girl with tenderness that she never once had in her life.
theyâll burn, theyâll fly, theyâll drift away under the sea granted them. this is their roads, their maze, and their own paths to take. nobody would take away from mai this chance if cellinia could help it, cellinia might even go as far as to give to her everything her battered heart has held itself together with. if it means that she never does without again, sheâd do that. those are promises given under the moon that would be upheld in the most tender of ways if the wolf were to eventually swear it to her.)
Thought youâd notice.
(because thatâs clear, her ears are sensitive things. she murmurs it in kind, amber eyes looking up at her lover through her lashes. she must look lovely, making eye contact like this while her ears seem happy with the attention theyâre getting. cellinia doesnât just nuzzle into anyone the way she does maiâs hand, she doesnât let any random person touch those cute ears of hers. she also doesnât give them the permission that sheâs granted mai, either. granting her free rein over them and the opportunity to touch them to her hearts content as a delight that can be kept between them. ah, her goddess lit up brighter at how she granted her those words. how it makes cellinia want to kiss her again. deeply, soft, and melting. sheâs not, if only because they did need to behave for the moment, long enough to finish this bath.)
Iâll kiss you plenty if you do....
(the words flow out, a soft murmur and purr in the sweet offering. that near suggestive coo almost lights her on fire again, sheâs going to watch closely now, mai. those soft hands are her favorite part of her lover, although, cellinia might remark, all of her is lovely. those hands and her voice are especially, her lips are another. how they seem to call out to her, the kiss of them being a beautiful song that coaxes from the wolf such wonderful notes. the wolfâs fluffy ears sit patiently, a near twitch of them at the attention theyâre getting. that must be a rarity for this part of the wolf, then. from how prickly she is, it would take considerable time to get near touching them. another thing for mai to feel pride in of her own, who can say that they get to freely touch the ears of a beast? not many, or perhaps nobody else could. that mai wants to try and treat cellinia like a treasure is fine with her wolf, too. sheâll have to spoil her further in return, be it by making tender love with her again on their altar or more chaste moments of calm in their weary lives.
she appreciates it, how mai gives cellinia a gift of her own in what she offers in a quiet moment. amber eyes follow those hands she would kiss along plenty, until mai reaches for the water to wet along the fur of her sharp ears. the wolf relaxes beneath her, her head tilted slightly back to help her goddess in her own want to be tender with her wolf.
her hums are what cellinia focuses on, for now. cute, is something she thinks to herself. clumsy attempts or not, theyâre welcomed attempts at tender affection. enough that her ears twitch along idly to gentle rubs of her head. cellinia for her part is rubbing maiâs back again, slowly, affection given and returned during the task at hand while theyâre in a more comfortable moment of love and care. sheâll wash her loverâs back in return for this, as another step between them in a moment of domestic bliss that never once could have been granted to them.
for a moment, celliniaâs eyes close, but not without her stoic expression softening into something relaxed. like sheâs melting to her loverâs touch at the scent of lavender shampoo filling the air, a soft and soothing scent. those ears of hers, they twitch again into maiâs capable fingers before relaxing. perhaps she might even look far too adorable for someone that could end lives without a second thought, especially after those lovely eyes open half-lidded at the sound of laughter from her lover. the melody of it, half-stifled or not, grabbing the wolfâs attention with the single word uttered. âcuteâ.)
[Is it delicious, Cellinia, the freedom with which you've painted your new life? Every breath taken, every day spent roaming as you please? That this wolf would offer herself upon a leash for an untrained hand to take is a rather curious thing. For the girl she presents herself in such a way is herself tethered to a master, conditioned with commands and accustomed to her own manner of discipline. What does Mai know of commanding an animal wild enough to make her dreams come true with but a word? What does she know of control, other than what she has lived under the yoke of a prestigious name? Any semblance of control she might have tasted is superficial at best, haughty and untrained. Mai can barely command herselfâ and she certainly hasn't fared well when it comes to attempting as much towards anyone who means anything to her. By accepting Cellinia's leash, holding it firm, does it loosen Mai's own? And if it slips from her hand, would it only choke her all the more?
But if Mai should decide to never loose her precious wolf upon the monsters who wouldn't hesitate to ripe her to shreds themselves, perhaps this leash could at least tether to her side for as long as she wishes. Forever, if her heart could even fathom an eternity that would desire her uninspired existence. Yet it's true, they have made eternal vows without even considering the gravity of their wordsâ a leash of its own, binding them to the mistress of destiny. The dark longings that stew in their hearts only make these vows all the more concrete, even if these lovers can only see the dark waves of misery rushing over their feet. Believing themselves unable to grasp this pact, this budding love, neither realize that it is love that grasps them. That it speaks to Mai through Cellinia's promise and her wordless devotion, and that speaks to Cellinia through Mai's loneliness, her desperation to be kept safe.
Who shall they be, in the end? A broken soul might not see the choices held out to them, might not see them as true paths meant for them to follow. So who shall these two become, the longer they dance in one another's arms, to the rhythm of Fate, the melody of love that builds ever-slowly as they find their footing? Would they waltz to the hymn dedicated to a proud goddess and her most ardent follower, who pays her tribute in the blood of tormentors? Or would theirs be a simple little tune, a lullaby telling of how this little red riding hood remained in the depths of the forest with her wolf, leaving behind her quest in favor of freedom? Cellinia, world-worn as she is, recognizes that this is what waits at the end of the maze she deconstructsâ freedom. To claim it, all Mai needs to do is allow her own eyes to adjust to something greater than the narrow path of certain despair, and take that hand held out to her.
What her eyes take in at this moment, though, is enough to assuage the fear of traversing this maze. Cellinia watching Mai from beneath her dark lashes, how she moves and caresses her ears, as if there was nothing more interesting in this world than her. Watching her hands, and promising her kisses for a considerate touch. And what a promise that is, how easy it is for her generous wolf to offer such rewards. Mai doesn't respond to that promise right away with words, rather, a knowing grin as she holds Cellinia's head tenderly, dipping her head low enough to steal a quick kiss before she's finished with her task. Hasn't she already earned it, though? She can tell that Cellinia is all too keen on laying claim to her lips again.]
Hmph. You want to kiss me plenty, already.
[And the feeling is mutual, can it be any more obvious? For now, though, they'll simply have to make do with letting their hands fulfill what their lips cannot. At first, Mai arches slightly in response to Cellinia's palms running slowly along her back, before quickly easing into how soothing it feels. It feeds the fire of her own yearnings, too, you know. How she longs to press her body fully against her lover's, drape her arms about her neck and do more than sneak a single kiss. But, that would veer dangerously into 'misbehaving' territory, wouldn't it? They'd never make it out of the tub. Mai would be fine with that.
The dance they take part in now is merely a warm-upâ it's so very important to be good when it's called for, if only so they can be as bad as they please afterward. Can their kisses stay just kisses, once they begin again? It's difficult to say for certain, with how they've discovered how splendid it is to bury themselves in a blissful affection that simply doesn't exist out there, in that dreary outside world. What began as a hunger for something purely carnal now begins to cloak itself in something soft and caring, forgiving in how they wordlessly absolve one another of sins they dare not yet share.
Here, together while they still have daylight to take advantage of, they can cleanse one another of the stains that mar them. Here, Mai can comb her soapy fingers through Cellinia's hair, admiring how silkily it catches the light before she works the foam along the strands. They really do have to tidy up, and why not help one another out a little? Cellinia is more than welcome to assist Mai however she desiresâ whenever Mai has decided that she's gotten her fill of playing with her cutely twitching ears. Not yet, not yet, and she'll not conceal her mirth at Cellinia's curiosity.]
Mm-hmm.
[There's no denying it, or even trying to justify herself at this fact. Cellinia is very cute, especially like this, head tipped back and eyes half-open and watching Mai's little amusement at it. Is it a word that she's only heard a handful of times to describe her? How sadâ though Mai can't bring herself to pity the ones who might've missed the chance to compliment her for being so agreeable beneath them.]
And if you're going to tell me that you'd rather be scary, don't. Because I don't like scary things at all.
[Doesn't Cellinia want to be liked by her? Mai's tone seems to convey this cheeky remark beneath her declaration, though they both know that they want the other to like themâ and they both know that they already do.]
(freedom can be sweet, but there is something in living in it that can be lonely without someone at the side of those who freed themselves from the hell they once were part of. loneliness is its own poison, the way it can dull them and make them into shells of themselves that rot away from the solitude. that feeling that someone wonât ever know about that struggle, the way they no longer felt like they had a place in the world. that they stuck out in many ways for not having something tie them down any longer. would freedom ever be worth it? sheâs free, free to live the way that she never could have in that familiga. freed from the tiredness that had a weight on her shoulders for so long, but she offers this. a chance and itâs rarity being the biggest prize any girl like them could have asked for. that would be, to hold the proverbial leash of a wild animal. an offering both peculiar and, in its own way, a different honor that could have been given to her. she grants you freedoms you never had before, mai. choices she can make, things she might have in her hands for herself.
everything that family had stripped away of her might become a distant memory if thatâs her decision, be it to leave them or end them. this is a gift of devotion, of worship and darker longings. promises uttered that nobody sane would consider. eternity isnât enough, not for the broken souls like theirs. with or without considering the gravity of their vows uttered underneath a moonlit night, what good did overthinking it do? it did nothing. what cellinia does is take fate into her own hands, her way. it may threaten to rip her to shreds, it might even one day kill her as fast as she came into this world. they give out love their worn down souls had longed for.
they embrace misery and wash it away in absolution. they break away maze walls and loneliness to a truth they do not face. that is love. budding romance, a budding love would both make and unmake them. at the end of it, they didnât need anything more than that while they breathed. while they danced under the moonlight, fate is nothing and neither is destiny in the arms of a lover. like those stories, the fairy tales that they both have long since stopped believing in when they proved to be fake in their longing for something to change. the only difference being one girl took it upon herself to force the change she had been after, the other has given up to the nameless devils that torment her and more in a desire for them fade away. for what might one day be vindication, or perhaps even release from their grasp in true freedom while they disappear off to somewhere theyâd never find her again.
isnât it always so obvious? she has a craving for her lips that has yet to fade, that hasnât stopped since their first kiss. how she can kiss this girl so tenderly, how she can kiss her in a breathless and graceless mess while their bodies are pressed tight together. they donât need reality, either. not as long as theyâre together. reality is only something that both girls can make their own in the way they desire it. though one might be more experienced in that than the other after her hard-earned freedom from a life she found herself hating more. as she lived it, she found herself so tired. so full of anger at the audacity, the way that it destroyed those around them for only a desire to live themselves. it crushed them, it ended them. but enough about that, what she has her eyes on is something real. something in her grasp without realizing when she hums softly into the stolen kiss and tender grasp of her head.
as expected, her desire is always going to be evident in that regard.
the smile is all the sweeter, how her goddess leans more into her body and melts at her hands tender affections. mai was right, theyâd not make it out of the tub if she did. did cellinia care? no, she didnât. sheâd touch her more for that, sheâd decorate her collar in fresher marks and kisses while their bodies near mingle together. to allow the world to fade away for a little longer in each touch and brush of their skin, each nip of teeth along sensitive places. each kiss given delicately as they please or tenderly on both blemished and unblemished flesh. their bodies are something they can lay claim on. something that theyâd mark themselves as theirs in this prelude. this dance theyâre doing together of many throughout their lives with their partner being another weary soul who makes them feel home.
their sins arenât worth that effort of considering, they didnât need the attention. attention that they both seem more keen on giving to one another, knowing their kisses would rarely stay only a kiss for long is only part of it. burying themselves in this warmth is more than worth the effort of their tired souls to keep going. because their sins could stay far away in this embrace, their hearts could feel something more than the dreadful weight that drags them down off into bottomless pits, until that hand offered by both sides reached out further. into the maze, into the bottomless pit of their lives.
sheâll do whatever mai needed her to do when her lover gets her fill, of those cute ears that happen to be twitching for her when her fingers brush against their fur. the fluff of them, even. she does clean up nicely, donât you think? so far, anyway. between that and how the black and red strands of her hair is something smooth in itself. soft and easy to run her fingers along through, to card them and play with it as a more chaste distraction to their constant want of one another.
itâs only another thing, another part of themselves that they grant when cellinia catches the mirth in maiâs eyes. how itâs genuinely cuter of her than the wolf. it suits her more, the twinkle of mischief, of something softer in a normally prickly girl that wears her edges like a suit of armor. but can the wolf be blamed for her curiosity? sheâs hardly ever been called this seriously. cute, that is.)
Mm? I donât need to be scary with you.
(another crack, another serious remark. what good was frightening her lover? she did want her to stay, she wanted her near. cellinia didnât need to be scary for her, she didnât even want to drive her away from her arms. if anything, she wanted more than that enough that her greed might be the scary part while she sits calmly for her lover. allowing her to take in this cute sight of her melting, to see her at ease and compliant.
thatâs another sweeter prize in itself, one that theyâd never know about. the words whispered, the promises, and how cellinia gets flushed pink at such words. faint, but she canât hide it from mai. itâs doubtful that she ever could for long knowing the way she tends to get underneath the surface and how cellinia presents herself.)
[To see just how deeply damaged one was from the rot of loneliness, is to feel the stinging discomfort of those old wounds being soothed by the gentleness of companionship. She cannot speak for Cellinia, but Mai's own memories of relaxing so freely like this have been buried under the weight of countless disappointments. Such comforts were withheld from her to begin with, though she'd steal any chance she could back in those long-gone childhood days. They seemed so distant to her, as wellâ a different lifetime ago, the anchor loosened and setting her adrift upon an merciless ocean. Even now, though she might sometimes find herself sharing a bath with her classmates after a grueling bout of lessons, she still can't reclaim that innocence, that freedom she once clung to in the shackles of her old life. It was all differentâ there was no mirror of herself any longer in Kyoto. Her family had stripped that from her too, hadn't they? But that just might be something that Cellinia could never retrieve again for her, no matter what promises she'd make.
Yet, in a way, Mai can recognize the slivers of what she seeks, dancing in the shadows where her lover's vows lurk in the meantime. Because Cellinia isn't her mirror, no. Whenever her hazel eyes trail over her, drinking in every inch with an unsatisfied curiosity, everything upon the surface reminds her that this wolf is far from being her reflection. But in a way, is there not a novel manner of comfort to be found in this simple fact? Cellinia needs not be exactly what Mai seeksâ but rather, something far greater than what she might have ever fathomed. She doesn't know it now, of course, the two of them still fresh in this bizarre affair of theirs, yet Mai can be perceptive, as well. A force of habit from the life she needed to survive. This, too, is something she'll have to surviveâ this new feeling that will almost certainly tear her heart into the prettiest of pieces to be put back together again
Taking care of her lover with these chaste little touches are a fine distraction from the gravity of what this all really means, anyway. Mai's hands leave those happily twitching ears in favor of soaping up the rest of Cellinia's hair, laying sections of sudsy strands over her shoulders and covering her lovely and bitten bosom as she finishes them. White bubbles clinging to the black-red locks dissolve into the water as soon as the ends kiss the surface. It'll all get washed off, eventually, but this only adds to the cute image of the wolf sitting patiently beneath herâ her hair half-covered in the foam of the sweet-smelling shampoo, the bulk of it coating her fluffy ears like airy little clouds. Oh, but the sweetest part of this is that unmistakable flush gracing her cheeks. Faint or not, Mai gleefully takes pleasure in this sight, feeling like she's getting exactly what she wants. Spoiled girl, really.]
Well, that's a relief.
[As always, the soft mocking in her voice is thinly-veiled. Maybe she is a tad relieved, though, hearing it from Cellinia's lips. Her honest little wolf, reminding her once again that their time spent with one another is not a spell of false benevolence, concealing what nature would otherwise dictate of a beast. But it's her blushing that betrays the most, an expression wholly unbefitting of someone who might have intended to act every bit the frightening encounter for a petulant girl. Cellinia openly declares that she harbors no such intentionsâ and this only makes her all the more charming. Enough so that Mai dares to pepper light kisses across the pink hue of her cheeks. Is there any point in resisting? It's fineâ there's nothing salacious about these kisses. Not yet, anyway.]
You wouldn't get this far if you did.
[Though, the same can be said for the both of themâ had Cellinia been anything more terrifying from the get-go, Mai would have quietly retreated, likely cursing her typical laziness for putting her in the path of something that would only inspire more nightmares. Whenever she can avoid it, she's all too happy to close her eyes to the terrors that seem to slink around every corner. It's fortunate that Cellinia, for all of her menacing decorationsâ hereditary or otherwiseâ is still more cute than scary. Yet, who does this luck seems to favor more, little red riding hood or her wolf? The correct answer is almost certainly both of them.
Mai's fingers are once more caressing the soaped-up fur of Cellinia's sharp ears once she acknowledges that she'll be needing to rinse it all off before long. She sits up just enough to lean forward and reach up for the handheld shower head with her free hand, and before she returns to sit fully on Cellinia's lap again, Mai leans in to one well-lathered ear and murmurs cheekily.]
Just be scary for everyone else, then.
[Mai knows it's a tall ask, impossible even, not at all a productive one if Cellinia is to keep being a working girl. And who knowsâ Mai could find herself playing the hypocrite sooner rather than later. If Cellinia's greed would be the scariest side of herself that she'd choose to share with Mai, then it just might be the kind of fright that this girl could get accustomed to. She'd suffer the adrenaline rush and forfeit herself to the jaws of a wolf, tremble beneath her keen eyes if that's what was demanded of of her. It could be a rather fun game of give and take, this flirtation with the roles expected of them by the outside world.]
(in a time before now, before they had met, and before she had lost that innocence, there had been for her dreams that only children could have. for a time she could be found playing games as children would do. maybe she did once with bright eyes found herself in love, but that ship has long since sailed in self-destruction and heartbreaking choices. one lost herself to despair, the other had broken herself to pieces while carrying on. they donât hold the luster of starry-eyed children, girls who once were so bright-eyed and full of happiness. a wish to and a want in her heart for those days to never end where she once had been so innocent. that her inner child could find peace again in the ruin that was brought upon the wolf in her existence. but thatâs always the problem for girls like them, there was nothing that could truly heal that part of themselves. whatâs left is always to pick up the pieces of once remained. because it didnât matter to this world and all its cruelty what they could have been had things been different.
about loves lost, people taken from them, the ever burning desire to find again that peace so easily ripped from their hands. they lost what could have been, a future theyâd never have and a present that was ever-changing. what it gives them now is something more curious than what once had been their respective lives and worlds. they chase echos, be it of themselves or something deeper. love is something dangerous in how it might end and rebirth them into what felt like dying and living. theyâd live when together, theyâd die when apart. being reflections didnât matter, not a perfect reflection yet enough of one that it strings them together more in this promised gift of everything the wolf has to offer this poor little red riding hood. unusual, bizarre, and even dangerous in the ways that it would tear them apart. cellinia can recognize that, that there is a danger in it and how there was no telling if she would ever be the same again after their meeting.
pleasant distractions are better than the thoughts that might swirl about, how in deep can they be? how far would they go as they lose themselves to love? wonât they be lost again without it or are they telling themselves that this only is another thing that wasnât true when their hearts could cry so loudly, so desperate and needing this salve offered by their lover. her ears again relax without being as disappointed that mai had stopped in favor of tending to the black-red strands of her hair. the patience of this predator isnât a surprise. what is the surprise is that lovely faint pink flush to her cheeks, offering another sweet gift. more spoils for her, sights that none can say theyâve had from her. not even those friends of hers in the pictures has seen the way cellinia could be flustered when she likes someone to that point.
is it truly a relief? perhaps. she doesnât have it in her to scare away this girl, not now. maybe even never with it being intentional. soft mockery and the way maiâs eyes look at her says enough that cellinia neednât say another word. that she likes it. sheâd remain safe with this wolf, this wolf who betrays herself in that pretty pink shade of blush to her sharp features, with her goddess kissing along the color to them. like something chaste in her mannerisms while they both know that any further steps beyond that would result in this bath becoming a different thing entirely. they wouldnât behave any longer while falling deeper into a sweet trap that threatens them more than the unending depths of rain threatening them in the desert it blesses with eternal water.
what mai is getting is beyond the fear that cellinia could have driven into anyone else knowing sheâs a wolf. predators are supposed to be frightening, but she obtained instead a more curious one that is so gentle for her while threatening others with her actual bite. it would be funny were cellinia capable of being frightening towards others while maintaining something of a normal and mundane life with her lover. with her friends, even.)
True....
(fortunately, she loosens up her hold on mai for now while giving a simple answer to her, so that she could grab the shower head while caressing her ears again. those ears which are twitching into her fingers, melting at attention granted to them by proxy of them being adorable. adorable on a girl that shouldnât even be perceived as cute herself for how vicious cellinia might be underneath the surface whenever it comes to the things sheâd do without being fazed. who knows, their luck is looking better than it had at the start. the odds themselves are still stacked against the girls, but perhaps theyâll get somewhere. somewhere beyond the cage for one and the loneliness of another.
she shivers at the way her lover murmurs to her, her ears really are sensitive things in how they stand tall. betraying her again in showing how much she liked hearing her voice speaking to her so lowly, a reminder is given to the part of herself that could be coaxed into misbehaving that they did need to try finishing this bath. try. if it turns to a failure, they might very well make it into more of a habit. but is that so bad? they didnât have to focus on the world or all the things it might do to them again. all that they needed is in front of this pair of jaded girls who flirt too much with what would surely be them falling at their deepest.
a glorious fall, drowning them forever and binding them in a union that would surely be something lethal for what they once were. cellinia does have a job to do, but she couldnât help the thought of eventually taking mai along during working hours. seeing and testing how well they both could avoid getting hot and heavy on the job while in her car, or perhaps in any other places they shouldnât be fooling around in. her greed really is growing in how she might display it when given the chance at the thoughts now coming in against the more serious ones of earlier.)
I could cover your eyes before I do anything frightening, or treat you sweetly after while apologizing.
[Cellinia is especially endearing when flustered like this, enduring these soft kisses about her face while it's more than obvious that she is easily moved by Mai's touches. Whatever manner of innocent love she might have given her heart to in the long-gone days of her youth might be forever lost to the disappointing turn of time, but the flush upon her lovely face is proof enough that her heart isn't frozen completely against a tenderness found in a rather unlikely place. A strange corner of an otherwise nondescript delivery, a patch of warm sunlight tucked away in the oppressive darkness of life's inevitable sufferingâ an echo indeed, of the innocence she might have taken for granted until it was too late.
This is what girls like them are reduced to now, isn't it? Taking part in agreeable distractions from the missteps and failures that have sapped the light from their eyes, in the hopes that maybe this time, this time, they might retrieve true relief in the depths of another. It's a gamble to reach in blindly, no matter how accustomed one might be to the darkness. Yet the two of them seem to be fine like this, grasping about albeit nervously, wondering if their wandering hands might set off some unseen trap, tearing them a wound that would join the others in how deep and unhealing it would become.
It's amusing, that these lovers can be cautious in their own subconscious ways, while their bodies charge ahead rather recklessly.
Mai catches the way Cellinia's ears perk up when she speaks against them, and her body feels the slight tremor going through the wolf at that same act. It doesn't take much, does it? Oh, how Mai adores the way Cellinia trembles beneath her, whether it's innocently like this, or at the mercy of her appetite atop sheets they'll mess up again. It makes her swell with the pride of having the power without needing to do anything more than this. But, it only makes her think almost too immediately of all the ways that she can get even more delightful reactions if she dares to go just a bit further.]
Oh, really? You'd cover my eyes before doing bad things, hm?
[Honestly, what are you to do with this mischief-maker, Cellinia? She's twisted your words for her amusement, and leaves no room for guessing where her thoughts sharply veer with the way her laughter fills the room again. Is it her fault? Cellinia makes it too easy for her, and if she can enjoy that blush for just a moment longer, she won't pass up the chance. Taking Cellinia's chin and tilting her head back, Mai waits for the water to become warn enough to wash away her handiwork from the dark fur and hair. Her fingers move to shield her wolf's pretty, blushing face from the stream of water and shampoo that otherwise descends into the bath. A gentle touch, an admiring gaze, despite the amorous intent of her words.]
You're really into that kind of thing, aren't you?
[She purrs, an obvious allusion to Cellinia's penchant for restraints. The idea of it might be a little different, here, but Mai will prod her with a teasing reminder anyway. Whether or not her lover means something far more innocent than what her own thoughts conjure up, doesn't matter all that much to Mai. She's inspired, goaded even, to let her know that she's thinking of it, this suggestive little memory she intends on treasuring, especially when she finds herself lonely once more.]
But I bet you're prettiest when you're begging for forgiveness. I'd find ways for you to make it up to me, I think.
[Already, thoughts of all of the ways that Cellinia might earn that forgiveness tumble about in her head as she runs warm water over the last patches of foam. Perhaps their thoughts are not so far off from one another's, when it comes down to it. Cellinia has given her wicked mind a taste of just how sweetly she can treat herâ and that was without a mistake to correct. Forget that this entire encounter began as a mistake on both of their parts, one that they're no doubt satisfied to have made, in the end. Neither shall complain too much if they add to the pile, should Cellinia choose to have Mai tag along with her on days when the job is plenty demanding. Goodness knows that they have a poor track record keeping their hands to themselves while in her car⊠]
Wellâ I probably wouldn't have you apologizing for too long. Lucky you, right?
[But a nice and proper girl certainly wouldn't be insinuating the kinds of things that Mai currently is. A better use of her lover's mouth, undoubtedly, offered under the benevolent guise of sparing Cellinia the shame of profusely apologizing for frightening herâ with words, anyway. She shouldn't object, right? Because Mai really does hate scary things, and what better way to remedy body-freezing terrors than something decidedly more hot and pleasing?
At last, the shampoo is thoroughly rinsed through. Cellinia's hair is without a single speck of lather, though scented pleasantly with lavender, calming, and irresistibly so. Enough that, once Mai replaces the shower head and wraps her arms tightly around her lover's shoulders, she breathes her in deeply. Cellinia is such a pretty contradiction, she silently acknowledges, at once dangerous and safe. Has Mai crept her way into a wolf's blind spot, somehow? Or is she in the beast's plain sight, kept in her mercy while the rest of the world may shudder in fear? Maybe it doesn't really matter, because Mai will end up pushing the boundaries regardless.
Such as now, when she ghosts her lips over one of Cellinia's ears. Nice and clean. Mai kisses along the edge first, the sensation of the fur there wet and soft against her mouth. There's a sliver of impatience in the way she takes her fill like this, as if she's been waiting for such an indulgence since they first climbed into the bath together. If it twitches against her kiss, she won't mind in the slightest, and might find herself smiling mirthfully before teasing her tongue up along starting at the base. Is this not her own manner of a sweet treatment, or something unquestionably sinful? Cellinia ought not to have put such strange ideas into Mai's head with her vague insinuationsâ doesn't she know that this girl has quite the imagination when it suits her? Well, she can certainly ponder on it as Mai takes the tip of Cellinia's sharp ear and nips at it with just her lips, a slight pressure not meant to elicit any pain if she could help it.
Yes, you ought to feel very lucky now, Cellinia. That to Mai, behaving comes second to getting her way when she makes the decision.]
(itâs a lovely shade of pink, that urge to kiss her while she pressed her lips to the faint flush along her cheeks had been difficult to ignore. she shows more in some ways through how the wolf allows her little red riding hood to touch her, to give her tender and chaste touches while in a moment of relaxation. where they are meant to behave, but find it arduous to do so in how theyâve been skirting the line together. being in that car together had only marked the start of them chasing these echoes. how theyâre cautious and not in a contradiction to their typical choices, innocent love doesnât suit a beast like her in how itâs too good, too pure for her to taste. the sweetness of it sickly and more than the confections that cellinia herself would often be found eating alone. theyâre so tired, drained in all the ways the cruelty of the world could have done with such ease. their gambling itself could cause more if they werenât careful about where it leads them.
but arenât they here, too, from said gamble? they hold no childlike light in their eyes, only eyes that have seen more than their share of what the world has done to them. to girls like them who once found themselves able to express their innocence without it feeling more as if it were a death sentence to maintain that wounded part of themselves. she often finds herself waiting for said trap to catch her hand, to grab it and tear into it another wound that would fester long after it heals itself closed. anxiety would always be something that remains, perhaps even their nervous and overly cautious attempts at testing the waters in what both girls denies as being love between them. a budding romance that wonât for their sake turn into something tragic like within the plays that cellinia had often found herself dragged into seeing with her only other childhood friend. nothing could heal those festering wounds.
those wounds which festered nevertheless underneath the surface regardless of seeming closed to those prying eyes around in their lives, that stayed long after they should have healed.
their bodies know the truth that they blind themselves to willingly. telling their hearts that this canât be that sweet innocence theyâve had slipped through their bloodied fingers, both figurative and literal. they resist admitting early what most would know by looking at them, that love bloomed in the most unusual and horrific ways in darkly whispered vows and vows of devotion. not that theyâd understand, they would find themselves appalled at the very notion that a beast is offering herself to this girl. oh, theyâd all call for her head. that desire to drive out a monster among humans while telling her lover that sheâd be gone by the morrow. that none of them would let this wolf hurt her again when the reality had been cellinia has loved her more than any human could without knowing. without realizing, no less, that her heart found its home in her.
whatever shall they do when the wolf is found whisking away this little red riding hood one night? taking her far away, away from those that harmed her and carved into her body those unseen wounds that both wolf and goddess had recognized as being like their own without knowing. itâs innocent in how cellinia had shivered, from sensitive ears, and how she likes the sound of her loverâs voice. atop that altar of theirs, the sheets theyâd ruin again and again, she finds it impossible to not imagine what mai means in her response. the mischief and how it drips from her words, the sinful nature of what her lover would be after from her. her ears betraying her would become a norm between them, were anyone else to dare attempt something so bold theyâd surely find themselves on the ground and injured. that is if they werenât someone she knew, although even her friends were not exempt from cellinia judging them if they attempted this.
she has something on the tip of her tongue, a remark of her own that gets cut off when mai takes hold of her chin and tips her head back enough. honestly, itâs enough to cut off any thoughts she may have had. their eyes lock, the wolfâs own searing in the way they look at her goddess from those promises. at being called out, even, for her own enjoyment of being tied down. restrained beneath her like an obedient beast as this pretty little goddess ate her fill of her body, drinking in deep of her with each flick of her tongue at her very arousal.
that purr of her voice is doing far too much to her and her patience, mai could sound so lovely without trying. she didnât need to see her face to keep those beautiful eyes of hers on maiâs own when she feels the admiration in her gaze. the mix of it and her amorous intent while theyâre having this back and forth. another mistake, or maybe not. theyâve long since stopped counting those, and the sins they are forming now would only bloom in their thorn covered gardens that both goddess and wolf are growing together. she has no shame in it, not in how hearing the rather obvious part of where maiâs mind is taking this.
let her treasure it, she deserves to have that memory keep her warm in their nights apart when the loneliness eats at them. cellinia wouldnât let herself stop thinking about her as promised, that request to ruin and be ruined was only the beginning. itâs only fair she allowed this girl to haunt her forever. to never stop haunting her in her waking moments and when she falls asleep. within her imagination, where she might dream of the things sheâd do to her in sinful reverence and chastely given love.
which is why her eyes are locked back on to her loverâs own hazel ones the moment theyâre uncovered, as if that answers the question enough. she is into that. sheâd cover her loverâs eyes and shield her from the scary things that the wolf would do to others that overstepped their boundaries. that pushed their luck too far while also not understanding what theyâre getting themselves into. yes, she can imagine it too well. the apologies whispered softly and cellinia bloody, reluctant to touch her lover yet doing it anyway from that urge to do so whether she were covered in tainted blood or not. the tainted blood of those foolish monsters, of truly, those bastards that would think they can separate them.)
Weâll have to see some time, wonât we? What you might come up with, the ways that I can apologize in more than only words....
(she murmurs the words, almost like she pictures it herself. the idea being painted out for her, the white-hot desperation of the moment would work plenty of wonders in that. how cellinia would treat her gently, mouth to her skin and lips. fingers working their way along her body, memorizing every tremble and twitch like itâs the first time. marking her beautiful body with teeth and kisses in apologies that could only be given in that desperate sense of longing in not wanting to let go. not of her, her lover and that part of herself sheâd lose forever if mai were to be gone completely from her life. it would be a better use of that mouth of hers, that wolfish tongue and the pretty way she could speak to her words both foreign and not.
who can say where mai is, but one thing is for certain, she is safe. safe in the arms of someone dangerous while cellinia loosens her hold again for her, safe in a contradiction who would sooner keep hidden from her gaze the more frightening sides of herself. she wouldnât object to apologizing with her mouth in whatever other ways her goddess can imagine, and how much the wolf would die without her the longer this goes on between them. cellinia did consider asking if mai wanted her back washed, before anything else that is, whenever she feels her arms around her shoulders.
how it almost felt like mai had been struggling in not acting on this urge in how tight it is, she can almost tell her lover is melting at this soothing scent. cellinia personally uses lavender to help herself relax more. be it at night to sleep or in general with wanting to calm down after a particularly intense night of sleep avoiding her, one of the wolfâs hands moves to rest along maiâs upper back. to trail her fingers along her spine while she takes in as much of celliniaâs scent as she desires. the rain and lavender, the hints of nicotine mixed into it. that buried down mote of ashes, too. what a unique scent, for someone as wild as this girl is.
enough to frighten most, but not her goddess who kisses one of her sharp and fluffy ears. the ear itself stands up straight immediately from surprise, cellinia herself? she hadnât expected that in how she sharply exhales, it seems both of them were having vivid imaginations together this time. unintentional on celliniaâs part at the start, but itâs too easy to get her to chase after her goddess and pretty little red riding hood. shameless in how they blur this line of needing to behave, but neither seems to care as their words drift further away from what had been something chaste and intimate in itself from how they were bathing together. the sigh she lets out is slightly louder once maiâs tongue works its way along the ear sheâs giving her attention to. is it from how sensitive they are? maybe, but it also isnât very surprising mai could a sound from her. for it to not be as soft from her nips of teeth along somewhere so sensitive for wolves.
oh, she canât help that tremble, that shiver from it beneath her. sheâs at her mercy in this tub, trapped beneath her while they both veer into misbehaving. how cute, they lasted this long for her ears to be groomed.)
[Clever, clever little wolf. How just from a single look exchanged between the two of them, Cellinia can feel out Mai's less-than-innocent insinuations. When their eyes lock, it only serves to make concrete the fact that their minds are all too quick to wander when they're so close, like this. Innocent love really doesn't have a place between two girls whose nervous hands are still bold enough to reach out and seize whatever frayed threads of enjoyment are dangled before them. It's true, that this manner of love would only taste far too sweet upon tongues that are more accustomed to the bitterness and rot set out upon dishes meant for sinners like them. And, after all, wouldn't a love crafted purely for innocents attract the eye of tragedy, which would far prefer to savor the deaths of a virtuous pair upon its stage?
Better to be cursed and corrupted by a love born out of lust, so that it might trick the gaze of those who would berate these two for the sin of falling into one another's arms so readily. All of those naysayers can do as they please, prattle on about how a wolf's heart has no space for love, how a beast shall forever remain a beast, no matter how beautiful her visage nor how diligently she tries to carve a place for herself amongst humans. And they can call for Cellinia's head all they likeâ only too late would they discover that their own heads would be the price paid for attempting to crush a love truer than any of them would ever know. Let them burn in the flames of their own indignation that two hearts found their lonesome matchâ whenever that day shall come. For now, these yearning lovers will bask in their own heat, one of a passion that fits their bodies almost too perfectly together.
'Behaving' was the order given, but now it's devolved into little more than a mere suggestion. Neither of them are silly enough to believe that this wouldn't be the case, especially now that their minds are dancing into rather dangerous territory. Mai deserves the brunt of the blame for it, conjuring up the delicious memory of Cellinia aching and dripping beautifully beneath her eager tongue. She was so good for Mai then, wasn't she? Yes, so good that it spurs the girl to want to test her obedience again, stretch it to its limits, mock her patience until it shatters and pierces her like a thousand blades bathed in pleasure.
Another contradiction, and a curious one, trulyâ how that soothing scent of lavender is, at the same time, provoking a desire that swells with every inhalation that Mai takes. It's not enough to breathe Cellinia in, deep into her lungs, stealing away the notes of rainfall and cinders that linger like a secret yet to be revealed. Noâ how can it be enough, when she had promised Mai to leave her smothered in this unique fragrance, marking her in yet another way? She refuses to accept anything less than being thoroughly haunted by Cellinia, wearing her in every manner she is able to, inside and out.]
Carefulâ it sounds like you're looking forward to a little scolding from me.
[It's a satisfying little fantasy to entertain, isn't it? Dutiful Cellinia, instructing Mai to cover her eyes before she'd turn her beastly nature upon whichever unlucky souls found themselves in her line of sight. And if she didn't trust Mai to not take a peek despite knowing better, the wolf might even do the job herself, restricting her vision while whispering to her lover not to look until she gives the word. All the better, for it would free Mai to cover her ears and drown out the sounds of whatever carnage Cellinia would wreak upon those monsters.
On any normal occasion, Mai would balk at imagining anything that might set her heart racing with stress, fear, and anxiety. Far more safe to retreat in the shadows of the depths where she knows she belongs, where she knows that she can plead ignorance to the dangers that lie in wait for a more daring soul to emerge. Yet, here they are once more, allowing these darker parts of their hearts to guide their imagination into painting a scene almost too ghastly to speak aloud.
How frustrating, if only because Mai recalls too well what had happened the last time she got caught fantasizing with Cellinia about such things. Her body reacts on instinct, and desire hums pleasantly through her veins at the memory of how she had clung to her lover like a lifeline while at the mercy of her fingers, and how she was practically brought to tears as she pleaded for things she really shouldn't have been. And now, they're only adding to that memory, making it fuller with another facet of something all too temptingâ Cellinia would slaughter whoever she needed to in order to keep Mai as her own for the rest of time, but she would murmur sweet apologies to her afterward for subjecting her to the horrifying sight of it all. With reverent kisses and reassuring touches, she'd take her time to erase the fear struck into her from making this vicious wish come true.
If Mai wasn't already taking advantage of her plum position atop Cellinia's lap, she might have let this fantasy tempt her irreversibly into chasing its lascivious promises. Her lover's offer to return the favor and help Mai tidy up can go ahead and perish upon her lips, for the time being. Surely, there will be time for that once Mai has her way with these fluffy earsâ and the rest of Cellinia, if neither of them decide to compose themselves in time. Will the water grow tepid before they finish what they set out to do with this bath? It would be a true shame if it went the way of yesterday's shower, but Mai intends on leaving here cleaner than when she arrivedâ preferably after a bit of fun that might leave her delightfully messy, first.]
Mm, is this fine?
[She breathes, her voice low and soft in between the teasing licks she trails along the edge of that poor, sensitive little ear. That's right, pretty wolfâ sigh and shudder for your goddess, who so graciously pays attention to her loyal devotee, and bestows this veritable honor for playing along with her so well. Won't you melt for her just as she does for you, in these daring touches? She is well aware that she does nothing to keep Cellinia's patience intact, her own well-splintered alreadyâ not that she was famous for her discipline to begin with. They can stop, they certainly still can, at any time, even if it means both of them staring at one another in deep frustration while they hasten the remainder of their bath time. Will they stop, though? Mai is plenty satisfied remaining upon Cellinia's lap like this, her thighs flanking her hips tightly as well, their bodies practically close enough to be one.
And as the tip of her tongue dips into the spaces between Cellinia's piercings, Mai can't help but make the decision for both of themâ stopping would be utterly cruel. At least let her lavish adoration upon her wolf's precious ears. Let her engrave another memory to treasure during the interim.]
Am I still being carefulenough for you, Cellinia?
[Her lover had given her a gentle caution, one that Mai intends on heeding even if she feels the temptation to flirt with the boundaries. More than that, though, Cellinia promised Mai enough kisses to fill her greedy heart to the brim if she treated her ears with care. An incentive to be gentle is more compelling than acting for gentleness' sakeâ oh, that makes her a rather wicked girl, surely. But how can Mai help it, when she's plainly aware that life itself is a game of exchanges? Just as she knows what her lack of efforts earn her, she understands very well what a sincere attempt may yield, as well.
There's no shame, no sense in hiding how into it Mai gets. Her lips nip where and when they please, her tongue darts and flicks at places that earn her especially cute reactions. All the while, she sighs blissfully against Cellinia's ears as she takes her fill, moving to lap at the one she had been neglecting as soon as she satisfies her curiosity with the first one. The sensations are strange of course, unlike any she might have indulged in with other loversâ none of them were wolves, after all. And yet, she has found herself more pleased with this wolf than she had ever been with any other. It might be those wonderful sounds being given so freely to her, those beautiful eyes she cannot see in this position but, oh, how they must look right now! A slight shiver creeps its way up Mai's own spine beneath Cellinia's fingertips, and it only encourages Mai to lick and kiss with greater enthusiasm.
Ah, how truly terrible at behaving she is. They really ought not to bother with any more of these endeavors, if they want to avoid the taste of failure.]
(isnât that the beauty of having a girl like her? intelligent, able to grasp that look in her eye without any other thoughts obstructing the way that itâs clear there is no innocence in the words offered. innocent love is beyond them, the tragedies that might be formed around such a sickly sweet confection would destroy this pair of would be lovers so easily. theyâre already jaded, theyâre ruined beyond being virtuous souls. who needs virtue when it feels so good to feel the way their bodies fit together? their sins, their bodies, their lust. this is what true sin feels like, the utter and raw need to keep devouring one another. all of it from offered flesh down to their very hearts, this stage of theirs would hold no room for what would be their end during this budding love. a romance that would surely terrify those who knew not what it means for girls like them to surrender to it. sheâs a beast, a wolf, taking the role of disgraced knight and beloved devotee.
they fall so easily, how starved are they that they can be so pathetic and such pitiful things? how they can lie to themselves that this means nothing in the heat of lust and passion. but thatâs what makes it so pitiful, so pathetically human of them that theyâd deny what theyâre starved of. she wouldnât let those nameless monsters lay a finger on her lover again if she could help it, sheâd even remind her and her body of the love she carries for her until itâs carved down to her goddesses soul. because look at them, that their bodies fit so perfect, that the heat of their lips stirs something that had been buried down in frigid ice and the darkness of their dreary and agonizing lives. those people would pay, even if it wasnât any time soon. they would pay for their injustice theyâve caused her goddess.
but wasnât she also supposed to behave? it feels impossible, the way she sighs out shaky and unsteady breaths, the need welling up in the pit of her stomach at the sensation of maiâs tongue tracing along an ear. breathing in the scent she carries, the scent that mixes into soothing lavender that been used to give them a pleasant fragrance. something that wasnât only the scent of sex and their own scents mingling. like they intend to become something new entirely in how it covers them, the rain and more than that being the mark that mai belongs to her. that cellinia would mark her until she becomes part of this unending tempest that swells around the wolf, with them both at the eye of the storm together. never parting, never. sheâll haunt her forever, past eternity, if it meant that this girl would belong to her as her goddess.
her goddess in her mockery of the wolfâs patience that she pushes to its limits, like now in how her beloved and pretty little wolf tries in vain to remind herself that sheâs not to misbehave. it wonât be enough, in how much this devotee wants to smother her in this greed theyâve both felt since the start. all it took was the offering of something gentle, something that felt more like love than what mai had ever had from the lovers before cellinia. how does it feel, to not realize how close to paradise they both are while denying themselves such bliss in acceptance by ignoring the answer their hearts know to the questions they ask.
that this goes beyond a night of fun, that theyâre addicted. affection is their drug, love is the kill shot thatâs waiting for them to slip and fall now to pieces. it wonât be any time soon, but eventually. not in how they fixate on this fantasy of theirs, this reality thatâs being crafted carefully. domestic bliss, normalcy, tender affections, the kisses that theyâve never had like this before. how the taste is a delicacy that couldnât be forgotten if cellinia could even try, but they both know she wouldnât from this nudging into her falling. sheâs hopeless, this wolf is so utterly hopeless in how she feels her heart start to beat faster.
she didnât need to answer mai, itâs obvious what the answer is. she did look forward to it, itâs evident in the way that the wolfâs heart could be felt pounding from how their bodies press together. as expected, the wolf would tell her goddess to cover her eyes. sheâd even cover them for her with the promise of apologizing for what would happen next, the death and corpses that would be left. the wolf covered in blood and unfazed by the carnage she wrought upon those stupid bastards who dared to try taking from cellinia her lover. she can be so good for her goddess, so sweet and tender to her while melting into her in all the ways that mai could ever dare dream of.
all while washing away that fear with tender touches, she knows. she knows in how she feels it, the way their hearts are beating together. the way that cellinia remembers how mai held on to her, wanting those vows whispered to her. wanting to hear everything sheâd do to end those foolish monsters. keep her forever, dutiful and knightly while knowing that truly, cellinia is not that noble. though that is also fine, isnât it? they didnât need noble, they didnât even need to hear preachy speeches about justice and whatâs right or wrong. all they needed is more than that in the way cellinia couldnât help herself.
she couldnât help it, she sighs for her. so beautifully. it rings along the bathroom walls in how she starts to moan, heat, itâs unbearable in how that starts to build. her mind is struggling to stay focused on behaving. look at her, mai, isnât she so lovely? those eyes are searing, burning in desire and tormented restraint from the way she stares at her goddess. reverent, but trying not to give in despite the sweetest of temptation before her. it feels as though itâs a losing battle, how could she resist her goddess and her whims?
itâs akin to denying themselves relief, a bigger sin in denying how much she would want to worship her body. perhaps theyâd still have time to bathe, to finish that much when mai gets her fill. sheâll ask later what her lover would like, if sheâd want to feel those hands of hers along her back in more chaste worship. that maybe, theyâd be fine to make a mess again of themselves after behaving for this long. but at the same time, her wolf wants to make the most of it too, how tormented she must feel. that she wants everything in how greedy sheâs feeling, the time together and the intimacy between their bodies.)
Mai....
(oh, she sounds so needy saying her goddesses name like this in response to the way she speaks so lowly and softly. how adorable of her, theyâre so sensitive she can hardly hold herself together in this tender teasing. the attention given as her wolf melts for her so wonderfully. pinned beneath her, their bodies almost intertwined into becoming one. listen to her, pretty goddess, how sheâs struggling to not misbehave for you. how sheâs enduring your love and your attention given to her, it must be a delectable treat for you. hearing the sounds she makes, the way she shudders beneath her from pleasure.
her pierced ear stands up straight at the attention itâs getting, trembling from how maiâs tongue licks along sensitive spaces between the loop piercings in it. sheâs clinging to her lover, her goddess, both arms around her whilst her beloved devotee breathes out these needy sighs. as mai decided, sheâs starting to break to pieces. her patience is shattering. the wolf breathes out warm breath along her loverâs neck from how theyâre positioned now. tickling it and biting down in futility, the urge to decorate this goddess of hers in more marks of worship.)
Voglio baciarti....
(a slip of languages again. with or without it being understood, itâs an admission in itself. her loverâs touch is thorough. that way that her goddess shivered at her fingers trailing along her spine is doing things to this wolf. they truly are hopeless girls, unable to behave when they needed to. not wanting to behave in the end, despite themselves. how funny, they lasted this long and found themselves slipping into their desires again. her other ear trembles next when maiâs tongue and lips works itâs way along it. the nips of teeth against sensitive flesh and fur, the warmth of her tongue, itâs killing her.
itâs making her want to carry her out of this tub and forget about a bath for a little longer. dear goddess, you really do ruin her. itâs only fair that sheâs so good for you in exchange for your affections and attention.)
[A heart can be the most traitorous thing, its rhythm betraying that which lips might refuse to speak aloud, or the very things that even the mind would make itself ignorant of. What kinds of secrets do these lovers scramble to keep hidden, a vain attempt to keep a shred of dignity for themselves, despite already baring so much to one another in such a short time? Even a jaded heart can be susceptible to the peerless flavors offered by the sins they would dare to succumb to in one another's arms. Even a soul so thoroughly starved of affection would cast aside dignity and carefully-calculated indifference for a love deep enough to remedy their battered hearts. And even if it irreversibly wounds their pride to be seen so blatantly as the pathetic girls they are for it, the damage will have already been done.
Oh, but how much does that dignity truly count for you in the end, sweet wolf? For Mai can feel it between the wet flesh of their bodies pressed together, the beat of Cellinia's heart quickening as she teases her without a lick of shame. Whether or not she'll ever make this admission out loud, this wolf really is hopeless, letting herself grow eager at the simple suggestion of a reprimanding, at the chance to make things right by her lover with apologies and pleas for forgiveness. But Mai might already have an inkling that her lover likes to entertain some odd urges, from their fun last night. Not that she minds one single bitâ and if Cellinia keeps being this good to her, she might find that Mai will keep indulging her.
They're both addicted after all, to this poisonous affection. It goes without saying that it'll spell their inevitable ruin, the most delectable of deaths that would usher them past the threshold of a paradise long-forbidden to them before now. From the outside, it looks every bit as twisted and marred as it ought to beâ a pair of lovers ruined by the world who deemed them unfit for something as pure as love. Those fools will never be able to see the truth of it, though, that because this love of theirs is so terribly impure, it'll grip them violently until it breaks the two of them into pieces that they shall only ever be able to repair together, becoming irrevocably one.
No matterâ right now, they can pretend that they come close to this beautifully ruinous end. Right now, they can feel as if they are indeed one from how their racing hearts beat in time, an erratic rhythm that can only be satisfying to lovers every bit as spoiled and ignoble as they've been reduced to by the very circumstances that have molded them to be one another's refuge.
Oh, there it is. That's what Mai wantsâ how, upon her lover's tempting lips, a drawn-out sigh bleeds into a breathy moan. Good, good, for that means that her patience is nearing its breaking point, just as Mai desires. It aggravates her in the best ways, how arousing such a sound is, the way it causes Mai to shift her body against Cellinia's in a futile attempt to press herself even closer. There's no pointâ they'd need to transcend this barrier of flesh to become any more enmeshed with each other. So, Mai shall have to make do with this, a blooming frustration that they can't simply melt into each other whenever she wills it. In truth, she had felt the shadows of this feeling the night before, when they worshipped one another upon their altar of ruin. It wasn't enough to feel Cellinia, to hear her, nor to taste herâ and she would soon have to surrender to the truth that it might never be enough.
She wants more, this insatiable girl, she wants more because she's wise now to the fact that, so long as she demands it of Cellinia, it is hers. How generous her wolf is, how forgiving of Mai's relentless appetite for such delights. But that generosity belies a greed all its own, Mai can tell, barely-concealed in the strained breaths she feels fanning dangerously against her neck. She wants more of that, too, another bite to finds its company amongst the rest of the marks left earlier by her lover. Surely there must be a patch or two of untouched flesh begging to be decorated, even if they might venture into places where her uniform might not completely hide. Oh, wellâ Cellinia can have herself another reason to apologize, if she feels daring enough. The urge is mutual, and Mai is so close to have it fulfilled that it sets her nerves alight.
And when she hears her name pronounced so needily in response to the lapping given by her merciless tongue, she feels a jolt of excitement roll up her spine, wracking her body with a deep shudder that she doesn't bother to suppress. A delighted moan of her own is muffled by her lips nipping once more at the base of one sweetly-trembling ear. Only a second passes before she sighs fully, pleasurably against it, a breathy 'fuckâŠ' uttered in a haze that is half-mindless at how gorgeous her name sounds tumbling from Cellinia's desperate lips.
Of course, the confession she makes after leaves room for a fair dose of curiosity. Mai obviously doesn't understand those words, but if there's something that Cellinia wants to say to her, ask of her, do to her, then it'd only be kind to drag it out of her, no? Her wolf doesn't have the privilege of keeping secrets, not in this position.]
Mm⊠what was that?
[Already missing the soft sensation against her tongue, Mai pulls back just enough to get a good look at Cellinia's face, freeing one of her arms to take her chin and hold her in place while she drinks in the handsome beauty beneath her. Oh, she does look so lovely, absolutely tormented like this, the struggle bright in those searing amber eyes. The way she gazes up at Mai is at once fiery and fragile, as if it would take very little to destroy the final, flimsy restraints keeping her from surrendering to the temptation boldly set before her. She looks as if she'd set her lover's body aflame once the last shackles are loosened for good. At the same time, though, the endearing desperation to behave and be good for her still vies for power in Cellinia's conflicted eyes. You'll give in, darling wolf, you'll give in because isn't that reward enough after being frustrated like this? And when Mai at last asks for your hands to wash along her back, perhaps there will be a few more of those pretty marks to treat tenderly in the process.
They can both have their way, but Mai will have hers first. Damp fingers dance over Cellinia's lips as Mai smiles down at her pridefully.]
You said you'd teach me, remember? Don't tell me you've changed your mind about it.
[It's not true, she knows. All she has to do is ask, and Cellinia will tell her what those pretty slips of her mother tongue mean. Still, the irony isn't lost on Maiâ she is a rather terrible student, infamously so. Anyone tasked with teaching her anything needs the patience of a saint and a hefty amount of respect from Mai in order to get anywhere with her. Does it amount to much, in the grand scheme of things? Mai has always been a rather poor investment, she knows, no matter how much her teacher tries to look after her.
Yet with Cellinia, it's completely different. What she has to teach Mai, the lessons that this girl might learn from playing the diligent student whenever the mood strikes, aren't part of some altruistic mission for society's sake. They wouldn't even enrich Mai in ways that might make her family hold her in higher esteem. No, these lessons are purely selfish in their nature, only meant to spoil an already-rotten heart.
She's painfully aware that she'll miss it, come tomorrow when she's back to learning about all of the horrifying ways she'd have to put her life on the line with her paltry talent. Is it so wrong to prefer lessons in how to survive after putting one's heart on the line in the face of loveâ the most terrifying entity?]
(her mind is racing, her heart hammers against her chest in an erratic rhythm as it demands to be released from itâs cage. they try, hiding away what pain made them this way, while telling themselves that they couldnât allow another soul to touch their hearts. that any promise of love and care could only be perceived as something that can wound them deeper. there is no coming back from it, not from love and how it tears apart those who dare to fall into that abyss which engulfs it. vulnerability is a sin. itâs a sin in their respective worlds for many reasons, with the former knowing the way it kills and the other having had been taught brutally that letting anyone in could only hurt her more. but it also is a salve, something that rebirths them or will when the time does come in their lives. that itâd unmake them while pouring together the cracks and thorns shared in their bodies. their hearts. pathetic, pitiful, and even depressing of girls like them.
sheâs always an oddity, with or without having some manner of dignity. she didnât always feel need for shame, for lying to herself about how she did find the idea exciting. of being scolded gently for scaring her lover, of the thoughts she held about treating her so gently in exchange for that fright. the love given to her and promises that her darling wolf would not dare to drive away her goddess. her pretty goddess who sheâs been so good for. not only in her mannerisms, but how she allows her goddesses indulgences without a word against them. she never would be able to resist that urge to indulge, not even to go against her little red riding hoods own whims that sheâs had.
poisonous and ruinous affection, the impurity of a love with teeth that threatens inch by inch to tear them to pieces. the minute they break is the minute that theyâd never again return to what once had been their lives before. itâs already begun, the way it grips and holds on to a pair of battered and jaded hearts. paradise, no, that paradise would never belong to them. what cellinia crafts unwittingly is a paradise forged from the ashes and the abyss that threatens them. the sea that desires to drag them down, the storm that awaits them that always would be part of the wolf. theyâd never see it, not even the truth, but they would complete this joining of theirs when the time comes. how perfect their hearts fit, how the agony and suffering is quiet while the cracks in their bodies from unhealed wounds fills in their union.
she did almost feel as though they were one, one bond and heart in how fast their hearts thrum together. her pulse fluttering erratically in this dance again, that desire to be in what they deem to be home in a lover who knows without knowing. without realizing. refugee, safety, home. finding it in an unlikely place almost seems par for the course for what a pair of girls that were ruined by the world has to go through. all cellinia can say is that itâs far too right, for something so sinful.
her patience is being beaten down, her sighs turning into breathy moans. torment and anguish, torture of the most tender kind. the sensation of their bodies coming closer together in a demand for them to melt away into one being, celliniaâs back is pressed against the end of the tub from how close they are. a single push could do anything, drag her under while they lose themselves beneath the bath water. until they find themselves gasping for air, or perhaps almost willing the water to make them into being reborn in this sinful want to be one. even cellinia feels it, the way she feels aroused the more her lover focuses on those sensitive and cute ears. because sheâs come to the realization herself slowly, this isnât enough. like on their altar and the mess they made of her bed, it isnât enough.
insatiable girls, itâll make them be more ruined, drunk on the feeling of love as it starts to course through them. as long as her lover wants it, cellinia would give it. as long as her goddess wants her, she would. she needs to hear her, to touch you so thoroughly, lovely goddess. canât you feel it in the way she torments herself by not misbehaving, despite how much she desires to? she wants to leave her those marks, she wants to carve them into her body and soul. forget if someone sees them, that mind of hers has labeled her lover as belonging to her. this goddess, they can ask and more, but theyâd never understand the love she would give her. strained breaths, the sounds of her moans against flesh both marked and unmarked.
if her goddess wills it, they can stare in envy. that someone was that attentive and never wanted to let go of her, she wouldnât even if it kills her. sends her off to the hellfire that awaits them early, while promising to keep them together in what would be the paradise which would solely be theirs. she can feel that way mai shudders, the moan against her ear and itâs soft fur. cellinia could even hear how she utters that solitary word, it lights her nerves on fire again in desire and want. sheâs desperate. sheâd even have bit her lover by now were it not for the torture she puts herself through by resisting, out of fear of her goddess stopping her attention.
or maybe from fear of disappointing her after promising that sheâd behave when itâs clearer that her goddess no longer desires that. she whines out a needy sound when mai pauses, to take hold of her chin and make her lock eyes with her again. not that cellinia needed the encouragement, her eyes would have been on her without it. on those hazel eyes sheâs staring at while mai smiles like she knows something. pride, smug almost. almost as though sheâs gotten a better treat in her torture of her wolf when she brings it up.
that cellinia had told her that sheâd teach her, she tries to resist the urge. to bite it down and fight when her eyes show it. those beautiful amber eyes that shine in her torment, how she wants to behave for her goddess as long as she deems it. fragile, but threatening to let go of that hunger. the fire that would burn them to pieces, just like it did during their worship on the altar they made themselves. sheâs so close to giving in to you, sweet goddess. she longs for it against that urge to keep her word. enough that she canât take her eyes off her, while that heat thrums in her body.
her lips brushing against maiâs fingers as they dance across them, her hand taking hold of her wrist to keep it there. the wolf doesnât say it, not yet. what she does is, she takes that hand and glides her lips along her fingers, down to her palm. the intense look in those amber eyes is strong, wanting. how hungry she is, how she tried to not misbehave until her lover decided she wants more of her. theyâre both too insatiable for their own good, but thatâs fine. this greed is only a part of their love that goddess and devotee offers alone, greed and sinful love. lust that engulfs them as the demand keeps ringing through their heads, their hearts.
that they want more, that they need more. the sound of maiâs voice, her lips, her body, she wants it. she needs to have it, though cellinia hasnât realized just how much she needs it. not even how much she wants her.)
I want to kiss you.
(she hisses it out against maiâs palm, the heat of her breath there and hot. the offered lessons that the wolf mentioned is well in place, even if she had uttered those words as a confession from how much she desired it. she does desire that, heavily. to kiss her, to give her greedy soul so many of them until she finds herself satisfied, if ever. they both know the answer to that. mai wouldnât ever be satisfied. cellinia? cellinia never would be, either. theyâd lose themselves in greed and love.
they didnât need anything more than that in how celliniaâs lips kiss the wrist of her goddess, amber eyes burning in intensity and staring at hazel. wonât you let her? all it would take is that one kiss, to tip her over. to watch her bend and give in to you, dear goddess.)
[Paradise is nearly theirs. Heaven is within the ocean that promises to drown them, the storm that will, with certainty, sweep them away in its unrelenting rage. It is within the rot that sets in their heart from the wounds of their miserable pasts, the flesh that festers after imbibing this poison shared between them both. Yes, paradise lies where their sorry selves decay only to be reborn into the most splendid of gardens, blooming magnificently after the rampaging fire of lust leaves behind love's silvery ashes to scatter over their starved soil.
One could easily say that the heavenly bliss that they unknowingly pursue hides within the virtue of patience, which Cellinia tries so pitifully to upkeep despite her body aching to succumb to the desires practically eating her alive. If it feels as if she'd sooner give herself to the voracious flames of hellfire than relinquish her hold of her lover, then it can only be because the ecstasy of paradise vows to burn just as brightly, and ignite her with an ardor that would put the punishing flames of hell to shame.
It's so very fortunate for the both of them that, despite a traditional paradise rewarding the virtuous with everlasting happiness, the battle-won heaven that Cellinia forges for their love instead bestows blessings upon the truly shameless. How lucky they areâ and yet, this wolf still works so hard to keep her yearning at bay. No matter how divested of shame she might think herself to be, she is still halted by the fear of brazenly giving in and shattering a promise that they both knew they didn't have it in them to keep. It's obvious, and beautifully so, that Cellinia has committed herself to doing whatever Mai asks of her, even if it's the best and worst kind of torture to deny herself along the way.
As wicked as Mai has proven herself to be, taunting Cellinia with nearly impossible challenges while hinting at the most gratifying prizes for completing them, there shall be no true disappointment whenever her lover finds that she's unable to endure for much longer. You've held on quite remarkably, Cellinia, far longer than Mai could have if the task had been presented to her, instead. That needy whine says it all, confesses without words that she's nearly fed up with abstaining for the sake of her goddess' approval and praise. The fingers curling around her wrist do the same, keeping Mai in place while Cellinia trails her lips down into the curve of her palm. Until, at last, she answers Mai's question hotly against her skin, her eyes as tormented as the strain in her voice as she confesses her truth.
Ahâ so that's what she had meant with that pretty foreign tongue. There is no surprise in Mai's expression at it, it isn't the first time she's been confronted with Cellinia's hunger to satiate the craving of her lips. Rather, she seems just as pleased as one would expect, hearing that the wait to taste her through kisses is practically tearing her lover apart. Mai tries to inject a bit of sympathy into the look she gives Cellinia, but it ends up appearing more as if she pities her for her suffering, instead.
'Why?'â her eyes seem to askâ 'Why don't you just come and take one for yourself?'
It's such a simple solution that would ease Cellinia's anguish. Mai would do it, herselfâ she'd declare how annoying it is to be troubled by these urges before taking as many kisses as she wanted, without even waiting for a reply. But in this respect, they're not at all the same, and Mai secretly adores Cellinia for it.]
So, what's stopping you? [Then, her eyes grow wider with an exciting realization, a familiar glimmer of mischief making itself home within them.] Is it me?
[Of course it is, of course it's Mai herself who has the power over how this dance of theirs proceeds. Because of Cellinia, she has the rare opportunity to conduct the tune, command the very steps they'd take, how slowly or quickly they might move together. She's the one who keeps her lover's desires in check, and it is her word, and hers alone, that decides if Cellinia's wish can come true. All she craves is a kissâ that should be so simple to give, or simple to take, were her wolf not beholden to her own personal code of respect and manners.
She regards Cellinia with a gaze that is just as searing as the one she gives to Mai, though the desperation evident in this needy wolf might hide itself a bit more cleverly within the haughty, molten hazel. The only thing hotter than the heat of Cellinia's splendid eyes are her lips against Mai's palm, claiming a makeshift kiss upon damp skin that likely still wears the faintest notes of lavender from their dutiful efforts to make this bath worthwhile, earlier. Mai knows where they'd rather be, and the tip of her tongue peeks out to swipe against her bottom lip in obvious anticipation.]
You said you'd kiss me if I was gentle with you.
[Nestled within this musing is not only a reminder of the task entrusted to her by Cellinia, but also a lifeline for her yearning lover. For a moment, the tables turn. This wolf had asked this of Mai, one of the few requests she had made in her dealings with a girl who is more than happy to take, if given the choice. And Mai had made good on her word, no? She had handled those lovely ears with all of the gentleness she could muster as she tidied them up beneath a calming lather. And even as she let herself get carried away, Mai still likes to believe that she gave Cellinia more pleasure than pain.
Though⊠with how tormented she looks, watching Mai with a white-hot intensity while her lips press against her wrist, perhaps she did contribute heavily to this ache she so plainly laments.
Well. There's an easy remedy for that, too. And Mai beams as if nothing delights her more than to offer it in this moment.]
Go aheadâ tell me how good I was to you. And thenâŠ
[And thenâ oh, there's no need to think too hard about the reward awaiting her if she gives Mai what she demands. You won't have to content yourself with any more mere kisses against her teasing hands, Cellinia.]
I can make that ache of yours go far away.
[Now, that which lurks beneath her benevolence truly rears its head. Such a sinful smile she wears as she murmurs these words, never tearing her eyes away from Cellinia's as she does. This promise is replete with obvious suggestion. Mai would pluck from her starved wolf the pang of needing to feel their lips upon one another'sâ and she'd take care of any other ache that might be plaguing Cellinia, as well. Anywhere this agony might be buried, Mai will find it, draw it from her flesh, and swallow it with the greed that it deserves.
What an offer, no? Only a fool would deny themselves such an easy liberation from their self-inflicted torture. And you're no fool, Cellinia, but even now, you're waiting for permission. Well, here it isâ one last little exchange before Mai sets you free to satiate your burning greed, and her own as well, even when you both know the futility of taking on such an endeavor.]
(yearning is only part of it, this heavenly bliss that threatens them and to detract from what had been more chaste intentions. cellinia is fighting a losing battle, she knows. sheâs losing. there is no winning against the ever-growing urge to satisfy that greed, how insatiable they must be to give in so freely. is this what true freedom is? she feels like it almost, freedom beyond the one that cellinia had her hands on. beyond the way that she would rain down the storm, that sheâd drown with her if she willed it. there would be nothing that might stop this wolf. not in how she feels the urge to make good on offered vows, on her reward she gave mai as incentive in her word that was meant to be for after their bath. she wasnât intending for it to be immediately, as a means of allowing them the chance to behave in a futile struggle.
itâs clear, there was no way theyâd have behaved for long. not in how she looks at mai, not in how mai also has a mischievous twinkle light up at the realization she has control for their dance. their stage, whatever she wants to call it. especially not in how cellinia sees the way that she almost pities her for this self-imposed torture. they know why she does it, they know that she wants her so badly that it can be called another sin in the pile. she worships a goddess instead of a god that had turned his back on her that day she came of age. there is no god that she wants, she wants a goddess who she looks at with searing eyes and deep hunger that is barely restrained. fragile, but not. there are cracks, her body is pressed firm beneath maiâs own as her heart pounds in her chest. hammering like it wants to go to her hands in a wish for it to be held and treated gently. she wants that, the tender touch and love that theyâve long since resigned themselves to never having.
shameless, dreadfully shameless and brazen sinners, theyâre so hopeless. falling in love without daring to consider the consequences, all from the first kiss and affection that they found themselves being offered. how it stirs the molten heat and greed within them to the point itâs torture to consider what would be their days apart. the dreadful thought of parting when they know they do have to carry on their respective lives. but that wasnât enough, that isnât enough to satisfy the greed in how it demands. how it aches to have satisfaction as mai speaks. she uses the words of the wolf and muses, while the wolf trails calloused fingertips against her wrist. her lips pressed to the curve of her palm, while both goddess and wolf do not look away from one another.
she has so many thoughts, all of them less than chaste. the cracks in restraint, the desire to break apart as would be a reward befitting the frustration that is nestled within them. they crave it, they need it so badly. that delight her lover has in knowing she caused this, how she has the power in her hands to make or break this between them. that the tempo is in her hands as they move together in their steps, that the wolf is willing to give her control, says plenty from her being unwilling to be ensnared by any hunter willing. but they werenât her. they werenât, not little red riding hood who stepped into the wolfâs den with offerings of poisoned affection.
of dark vows and promises that she can decide if they would ever be called upon in how deathly serious the wolf is about killing those who dare to try taking her. about destroying those who had dared to hurt her in her short life. sheâs so tormented in how her reasonable side suggests she should resist, but the rest isnât listening. no, the rest canât stand it any longer. not in what she wants and aches for. this goddess knows as well as cellinia that she canât go against her word and her own want to hear it from her lips. that praise sheâs earned. that affection she desires, while one hides how needy she feels and how much she craves it and the other couldnât even bring herself to do it. this time. more like she might never be able to hide that way she stares at her goddess and this dear goddess is not ever going to leave her den without her body being reminded of the love that a beast can only give.
as expected, that was the push needed. the offering of a salve for this ache, the neediness in them both. the way that they both had waited in their futility for one another to crack in their restraint. itâs only fair that the goddess had caused her beloved devotee to break apart first to obtain her coveted reward. that reward she wants most. they didnât have it in them to resist, despite the way that cellinia could try for the sake of mai to do it until mai desired to misbehave and tempt her. that temptation is strong, itâs all that she had to do. offer in their sinful desires and how sinful her loverâs smile is, to make it go far away as they lose themselves in tender affections. sinful delights that only they would revel in as being like love when that day comes between them.)
You did good, so good for me, Mai.
(pitiful, hopeless. she sounds so needy, her voice strains as her restraint fades and she takes the promised kiss. she kisses her with such urgency, such desire and hunger. how much did she torture herself? it must have been difficult, an arduous task that had already been doomed from the start. there is no changing that, they both knew where this would go, despite the promises of behaving from the wolf. they wouldnât have made it through the whole bath, and itâs only a fruitless endeavor to consider any subsequent baths together. but it would be so lonely. not having her goddess with her, maybe even for the goddess to not have her ever devoted wolf within the reach of those soft hands. those hands that which touch upon unhealed wounds and scars like theyâre the balm she needed for their constant ache.
but she doesnât stop, she doesnât stop kissing her, she doesnât even for a second. each brief parting of their lips is met with another, greedy and pitiful little wolf, she canât get enough of her lips in particular. that way she licked her own bottom lip had already driven her more to the brink of insanity in how celliniaâs own rough hands hold on to her goddess. clinging to her, like the lifeline she is for her and her sanity. she canât help it. not how she feels the flare of arousal and desire burning through her veins. searing into her body with prominent heat that might never fade, itâd only continuously be fanned by the desire of a goddess.)
So, so good. How your hands drive me insane when I tried for you to not act upon the urge, I wanted to touch you. I wanted to melt into you so badly, fuck, I might be losing it more....
(she is losing it more, they both know it. how she utters those searing words between each breathless kiss she takes, the water sloshes in how cellinia sits upright to hold mai against her body. tight, like it isnât enough. the flesh is a prison and a barrier that blocks them from what they truly want in melting down to their very being to become one. itâs almost pathetic in how badly they ache for that with someone they barely know. but can they be blamed? nobody has made them feel like this before. not a pair of fucked up and lost girls, strays that became the home of one another.
what must she do? so that she may keep her forever, she wanted nothing more than to act upon those words. she can almost taste it in how close it feels, but she knows they arenât there. they might not ever be for quite some time. it doesnât, however, stop cellinia from thinking it and wanting to make it real. against her better judgment, she wants to make it real, while the baser parts of her instincts flare again at the idea. how could she not want to? she fits so perfectly against the wolfâs body, the wolf even had been covering every inch of her goddess in her scent like it was already something meant for her.
it also doesnât help the way her mind thinks it. mine, mine, mine, it rings out with each kiss, with cellinia breathlessly moaning into them. feeding those lovely notes to her goddesses own lips like a delectable treat for her efforts in breaking her to pieces for daring to go against her new desire to satisfy her greed again. how cute of her to have thought to try, it didnât work out the way she wanted. theyâll be fortunate if the bath water is still warm when the wolf and goddess gets their fill of love.
of intimacy that theyâre craving in this unending greed that they both feel so strongly. itâs too good, too good for them, but so right in how it burns and how they love it. how they want it, this sinful need and urgency in hot and heavy kisses. sighs and whimpers, their hands unable to find their fill of their bodies. this is what love for girls like them tastes like, no matter how they deny it. this is what love can feel like, what they crave.
heated murmurs of praise for mai, with every kiss (âso perfect, how you fit against me. your taste is something i never want to leave me.â) given to her lover. all while underneath remains the unmentioned word that cellinia thinks and feels. mine. all hers, sheâd never let anyone else have her. sheâs hers. all hers, only hers, but she refrains from biting the mark she wants to leave her to make it more true. too soon, too fast. even if they did go out of order, itâs far too soon for her to leave something as precious as a mating bite.)
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no subject
Date: 2025-04-23 11:07 pm (UTC)her soul ignites in her embrace, her lips thirst for more of her kiss. maybe she might uncover more of this enigma presented before her, how the wolf may never stop being one in some ways. because sheâs learned, she has to keep some parts of herself safe. away from the prying eyes of others for survival, allowing herself to let out everything is a weakness. those who are weak die fast, but not as fast as the lone wolves who abandoned their blood, their kin. mai may be the sun, cellinia could only be the moon to her while she watches her closely.
her marks, the bruises and love bites cover her skin beautifully. the imprints of scratches along her back mixed into where her lips marked more of the canvas she adores most only other parts of her body that mai has touched with her brush. a brush which cellinia shows off without shame, without a second thought in it. they were past the need for shame now, werenât they? and itâs nothing unusual for a beast to not carry shame. itâs only fitting of a wild animal to do such a thing. mark her territory and allow her lover to do the same if she found herself wanting to try and keep something as handsome, as dangerous as she is. her menacing and handsome work of art, her knight in all her darkly given promises. vows which left her with such ease, how they came out like poetry in the violence she would grant her the honor of saying the word for.
she watches mai, those searing amber eyes following closely. the sight of her easing that blanket and the fabric of it down slowly in her steps. she canât help how she watches her. cellinia wouldnât rip her eyes away for any reason, not in how she watches her beautiful goddess slip out of it. the marks which she left for her in worship unveiled, the way it hugged her curves before it dropped to the floor properly and their hands soon are held together. her thumb brushes along the back of maiâs tenderly, the rub of it into the skin slow while her lover takes this invitation presented before her. at first, cellinia expected her to find her own space knowing the tub has plenty of that offered to them both.
what happens instead, she didnât mind that either. mai settling against her, in her lap and closing any space between them as warm droplets of water trail down along their skin. she knows thatâs a lie, but she doesnât call her out on it. she only could take it as something to grow used to, something that she doesnât argue or mind knowing that they both struggled to allow themselves to separate for long. mai fits perfectly in her lap, against her body when cellinia instinctively rests her chin against her beautiful admirerâs own shoulder.
as if in response to the way she stares at her, beneath her lashes and lying again about the possibility of falling asleep like this. they both know she wouldnât, celliniaâs hands find a home against her hips again. the roughness of them even in warm water noticeable against the soft skin, the way her fingertips stroke idle circles into them with an amused hum.)
That relaxed, are you?
(she breathes it out lowly, ah, they may not behave for long. cellinia even has little faith that they could, but thatâs fine in itself. they neednât always behave. not all the time if they desired to cause mischief instead.)
no subject
Date: 2025-04-24 07:30 pm (UTC)'I'll make you mine forever.'
How could Mai not feel like the cat who got the cream? And she is every bit that haughty cat, sweetening only for the hand that feeds her, but happy to give a few bites, all the same. She does leave behind the prettiest marks, after all.]
Oh, yeah, I'm plenty relaxed.
[Her voice purrs, following a blissful sigh as she settles further against Cellinia's chest. Once more, they fit together as easily as if they were meant for this, the many different ways they might wish to hold each other close. It's as if the heat has softened their sharp edges even further, making them pliant and obliging to this rare tenderness. Of course, Cellinia envelops her far better than the warm water does, with her hands comfortably upon her hips, and her chin nestled upon her shoulder. The same safe feeling that wrapped her up so snugly in the night tingles familiarly wherever their skin connects, and Mai melts a bit further against her lover's embrace. One of her own hands traces along Cellinia's leg, before finding a few of the love bites she'd left and stroking over them mindlessly. Mm, she probably could have left a few more, right�]
This definitely helps after sleeping on a couch. [She can't help it, she really can'tâ ] But you weren't half-bad, at least.
[Best sleep she's had in a long time, a sentiment that they obviously both share, given how unwilling they were to rise for the day. Cellinia truly made the most wonderful pillow, amongst all of the other things she did to leave Mai nice and sleepy. Even now, she has no complaints at how peaceful it is to settle against her body, taking up space unapologetically in this continuation of their cuddling on that couch she had just bemoaned playfully. And when she tips her head just enough to get a better look at her lover's charming face, she can't resist the urge to keep teasing her a little. Despite being in such a precarious position, right in the middle of a wolf's grasp, Mai just can't bring herself to play the perfect little captive.]
Next time, though, I deserve to sleep in a proper bed. That's not too much to ask, right?
[As if to bolster her sweet-talking request, Mai reaches up to stroke slowly at Cellinia's sharp ears. She rubs and teases the silky fur with her fingertips, before letting her hand drag down somewhat to card through the damp, dark strands of hair. Mai knows it, of course she does, that her ask is only as possible as her willingness to be a good girl and not get carried away like last time. But it's already been established, right? Being good is overrated and hardly as funâ besides, she's almost certain that she'll continue to enjoy frustrating Cellinia, probably as much as Cellinia herself enjoys humoring her mischievous ways.]
no subject
Date: 2025-04-24 08:35 pm (UTC)âI want to make you mine.â
she meant those words, she wants to cover her in everything. her scent, her teeth which could just as easily rip someone to shreds yet doesnât. she only bites down for the marks she left, the marks which decorate her loverâs beautiful skin and body. she doesnât mind even carrying maiâs marks, those pretty marks along her neck. those thighs of hers, and her back. no, there wasnât a need to hate it. not even to dislike it. what she does is, she takes this greed and embraces it with her own. how cute, her precious and sweet little wolf responds with similar greediness when it comes to such things about them.
cellinia hums lowly again at that purr, the feeling of maiâs fingers brushing along love bites that she left her. if she did want to leave more of them, who was she to disagree? she almost certainly wouldnât, not while they relax in this warm bath. a warmer embrace that seems to keep them together, melting away the stress and worries they would have typically dealt with. that mattered little, not in how skin to skin they seem to melt away into being something softer than they could have ever been. safety. protection, like those arms would never let go of her if she could help it. perhaps later she can leave a few more of her own marks, would she like that more to have them? or more of her kiss along her skin to light her on fire underneath her skin too, right?)
It was hard to get up....
(few words said, but they were words she meant. it was hard to get up. not in a bad way about being stiff, but in the sense of them not desiring to end their comfortable embrace. like this, when mai tips her head, their eyes lock again as best they may from this position. she doesnât mind that her lover refuses to be a perfect little captive in her den. thatâs what makes it all the more interesting. their bodies are like puzzle pieces for one another, ones which could only melt them further. their edges would never fade, not even the thorns, or how they could stab into anything unwittingly getting too close for comfort. but, that also meant little to them who were unfazed by the sting. instead they embrace it, they let themselves go in tenderness that would never be shared with another lover.
it truly is precarious, no? mai is trapped in her warm embrace, anything could happen that was less than innocent and chaste. though she says nothing for now, nothing more than nuzzling into her shoulder at her fingers teasing those fluffy ears of hers. their sharpness as usual standing out when they twitch in response, the wet fur easy to brush through before maiâs hand makes its way through celliniaâs hair instead. those cute ears almost seemed disappointed she stopped for now. she can behave, she thinks. for how long is not as easy to tell seeing as how mai could frustrate her as she pleases and watch this handsome wolf unravel for her again in the warm water. it all depends on their willingness to behave.)
Itâs not too much to ask for....I did get the sheets swapped out for if we needed a bit more rest.
(would that stay a simple time of rest, truly? the two of them could easily turn that from what would be a small rest into more than that. especially since cellinia almost wonders if she ought to start expecting to sleep nude in how comfortable they both seem to be at the idea of that. sleeping bare and vulnerable, holding one another in such an embrace. how shameless, some might say.)
no subject
Date: 2025-04-25 11:48 am (UTC)Or would the ghosts of those kisses and bites haunt their flesh long after the bruises disappeared beneath the surface? Is that what Cellinia intended with her declaration? That her teeth sink more profoundly than merely skin-deepâ no, she must've gone farther below, leaving behind a more permanent promise where no eyes might ever see. Certainly, this promise is one that draws blood, staining Mai all the more beautifully for her. And it won't show, it isn't something obvious enough for anyone but them to be aware of, but it shall be a stain that blooms like the most dangerous flower in their distorted garden. A mark that finds its only match in one another's souls, whenever the fog of misery lifts enough from their eyes for them to witness the miracle of it for themselves.
For now, though, the haze is still thickâ the images of love, that lamentable and unnecessary feeling, cannot yet be discerned. Nevertheless, it flickers faintly in this haze, unhurried for these lovers to become wise to its swaying presence. They can certainly think themselves only engaging in this little dance for some physical satisfaction. Neither will know of the true consequences of of their union until it's far too late, and delightfully so.]
Funny, that you think we'd be getting any rest over there.
[She raises her eyebrows knowingly at Cellinia's harmless suggestion. There's absolutely nothing innocent that can happen involving the two of them and a bed, considering how they made a right mess of it last night. Does Cellinia already desire to have Mai again, feel her melting beneath her touch and pleading for all of the terrible things that she really shouldn't be? Will they really be able to rest once they've returned to the altar where they've made their sinful vows? No, that passion is already too addictive, and they already know well enough that when it comes to behaving, they're well-matched in their impatience.]
I meant, next timeâ next time I come to get some sleep.
[Because whenever it does happen next, there will be another evening spent in full together. Mai has tasted a good night's rest, a slumber without the plague of horrid dreams and thoughts fraught with a loathing directed at herself. Shameless or not, she experienced a warmth wholly unfamiliar to her, in the way that their flesh kissed one another unimpeded throughout the night. It felt peaceful, natural in its rarity, to lay bare beside one who so easily vowed to cut down anyone who might try to do them harm. No need to wear any cloak of false modesty when they've opened up the more raw parts of themselves, if even for the briefest of moments. Whether they liked it or not, there was no going back to whatever shells of themselves that they had been before.]
Don't try to trap me in your bed, Celliniaâ I don't know if I'd ever make it out in one piece.
[Her sharp laugh echos off the tiled walls, and she tries her best to give Cellinia a kissâ making it as far as cheek from the position their in, and the way her lover is nuzzled into her shoulder. When she considered the idea of being trapped, Mai recalls how well-suited Cellinia was to being bound. Yes, she made the most eye-catching captive, didn't she? Behaving magnificently until Mai beckoned her down the path of retribution under the guise of pleasure. Forget about Mai leaving in one pieceâ whomever finds themselves at the mercy of her moodiness might find themselves wishing that she would be confined in the wolf's sacred altar of wicked love.]
no subject
Date: 2025-04-25 11:11 pm (UTC)souvenirs that may never fade away, even, in how their minds would often go back to it. wondering about them. the unending urge to own and be owned in the way theyâve begun to anchor one another. reality could call for them, but that doesnât mean they would lose this. cellinia herself meant more than surface level marks in her wish to haunt and be haunted. permanent promises, their vows while she offers blood in exchange for freedom as one girl deserves herself. truth is something they ignore, because that meant coming to terms sooner with how comfortable they are in each otherâs arms. those consequences could only be part of what leaves its everlasting mark. cellinia is comfortable, her hands idle in how they rub into the skin of her loverâs hips. sheâs not in any rush to move them further. touch alone does plenty for her, but it wasnât something that could satisfy this greed alone. cravings which felt constant to push further.
her darkly given vows and promises would only continue, because who was she to judge the way her lover holds her monsters as something she wants to be removed from her life? from the perpetual nightmare theyâve given her that was so helpfully kept at bay by her wolfâs own warm embrace? but she did know, neither of them would be sleeping. not a single bit or not for long if they found themselves alone in bed together again. it wouldnât be them resting, theyâd be unable to resist the allure of that siren song which calls to them. that song that demands they donât stop feeling this unending hunger, that it doesnât die down while their bodies meet again and again beneath the moon.
on that wicked altar the wolf offers made of bloodstained promises and tender love given from her teeth and claws. her tongue which could lavish her in its own worship from the way cellinia speaks to mai like sheâs every bit what she could have ever desired in this fucked up and miserable excuse of a world. the sinful vows could only keep growing, whispered lowly along her lips and neck when offered it. why wouldnât she oblige to this, after all? the wolf could only be excited by it. that her lover could ever want something so violent and ugly in her presence, so willing to worship her without a second thought in love they do not admit to feeling for many reasons.)
Fair, I think my point last time still stands.
(she said it best last night, didnât she? murmuring how she wouldnât let her sleep while restrained so beautifully for mai. maybe she did desire it, to hear the things mai wants from her. how the idea makes her melt more in the hands of a beast that is too ready to give her such cruel promises for those that she deems the ones she desired to be punished. neither of them would behave long in the grace of this sinful delight and addiction of theirs to touch, passion, and intense cravings. cellinia knows she wouldnât be able to stop herself from wanting to touch her more, from wanting to hear that sound of her lovely voice hitting those notes for her as far better music than what plays on her stereo.
itâs a song in itself to hear, one that cellinia memorizes down to the last note. that restful slumber they had for the first time in ages is only something mutually shared, shameless. theyâre so very shameless, how they long for nights now with their flesh kissing the others. where theyâd hold open their bodies and battered hearts for someone that knows this suffering of theirs too well. vulnerability, the raw feeling of it from someone passing through the cracks while equally injured, itâs another addiction. they could never go back to those days. not any time. she didnât want to, that was clear from what the felt subconsciously.)
Hmm? Youâre fine in my arms, arenât you? I could be gentle for you, how Iâd treat you and touch you.
(she followed down that path given with ease, cellinia who is comfortable and holding her like something to covet. she behaved, behaved under her loverâs touch and murmurs. cellinia can be perfect on a leash and collar when it suits her on that altar they made their vows and promises. the wolf seems to have caught what her lover wants after her lips brush against her cheek when her head tilts just right to catch her lips. the kiss they wanted, likely both craved, given with a soft sigh into maiâs lips.)
no subject
Date: 2025-04-26 09:15 pm (UTC)The only things that are real, the only things that are true, are the touches they give one another beneath the warm water. Promised words can be sweet blessings, just as easily as they can become bitter curses, yet these vows can only be certain once they're fulfilled. The disappointment of broken promises isn't unfamiliar to Mai, leaving her to force herself to only believe in whatever misery is in front of her. Yet despite this bleak determination, a part of her heart sneaks around her own blind spots, clinging to these promises of freedom beckoning her to take a taste. More than that, the parts ingrained into her soulâ the part of her that can create something out of nothingâ make her believe that she can craft a reality out of the ghosts they will become. That a worthwhile life can be born from this curse of death, and that these temporary touches can one day become a lasting embrace.
Cellinia has found what she has yearned for in this unlikely lover, and she, too, is what Mai would have desired in her lonely wishes to escape, to be protected and cherishedâ loved, even, if she could be so greedy and shameless for such a gift. Perhaps, before now, her wishes were merely aimed in the wrong direction, focused towards a target that was ever-moving. An impenetrable target, made so by the world that they shared, though a world that had shaped Mai differently due to her own weakness. Yet, her long-held wished for this devotion and dedication somehow found their way to the right person, one who was shaped similarly by a treacherous past. She was far from a white knight, but Cellinia could be a champion nonetheless, vanquishing the monsters and restoring a sad girl's feelings of worth. Violence and ugliness, the world was so full of of those thingsâ hiding within curses, family strife and broken promisesâ that Cellinia and her blood-drenched vows are the most beautiful offerings that Mai could ever hope to have in her hands.]
Right, I bet.
[She remembers, of course, that heated threat to keep Mai just out of the arms of sleep, so long as their bodies find themselves entangled in bed again. Mai scoffs humorously at the brief recollection, Cellinia's reminder that she is every bit a wolf in her appetite, as well. That's fineâ not sleeping is favorable to whatever nightmares that would certainly break through, finding a sure way to shatter their reverie. Mai would rather Cellinia drain every last bit of resistance from her bones, not leaving a shred of energy left for any terrible dreams to latch onto and take root. Sure, they can sleep eventually, when it's all they have the strength left to do after their passionate efforts. A dual payout, reallyâ indulging in that sweet ecstasy that Mai has never felt at another's hands before, and basking in the reprieve from the terrors that feed upon a vulnerable mind.
If she could will it, she would hope to dream of only Cellinia, even if her wolf was but a breath away, slumbering sweetly in her arms. But, of course, nothing is better than being able to have her in the waking moments. She'd feast upon her until her mind is full of nothing else but her lover, pushing out the monsters in favor of all of the ways that making love to her would haunt Mai splendidlyâ every kiss and touch, every shudder, those eyes that behold her, and that soothing voice that dedicates every cry and sigh and promise to Mai, and Mai alone.
Even now, she is afflicted by the same cravings that seize her lover. The soft sigh that Cellinia gifts to her in relief at resuming their kisses is responded to with a pleased hum. Addiction is rearing its head again, making her heart quicken with excitement that she gets to be as greedy as she wants, without anyone to stop her. She is most certainly fine in Cellinia's arms, if only because Cellinia won't deny her for a moment.]
Could you, now? That's a scary offer.
[She teases softly, smirking in their kisses while her fingers move to stroke at the back of her lover's head. Gentleness is rather frightening for someone who's only known cold severity. But, she won't refuse itâ she wants it, just like she wants everything she can take from this curiously generous wolf.]
Are you sure it wouldn't be more fun for you to just pick my bones clean, right now?
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Date: 2025-04-27 05:33 am (UTC)what they do not know is this only becomes realer with each tick of the clock, every passing second causes them to fall deeper past the line theyâve crossed so readily. disappointment is something venomous in itself, the way that it can wrap around already tired hearts and wear them down further. hearts are interesting, but the way they could make someone feel alive again is another thing in itself. she would allow herself to be damned, damned against everything that clings to them. heaven is what they make it, this freedom she would grant her lover is something they could carefully craft themselves. they needed nobody but their own two hands which were worn and torn apart by everything. these ghosts could only become part of their souls, because as useless as their unsightly hearts are, that meant little to what they found themselves in one another. sheâs what she wished for most, a goddess that knows her pain without them saying it. that something is deeply understood without them knowing.
she gives her something that mai wanted, that love and protection that they hadnât realized. her arms fit around her like a shield, cherished, even in all the greed she has. this is a heart that so rarely is given, granted freely to those that who may get close enough. a heart that has been battered, destroyed, and treated to all the illness within this world. dragged down and threatened to stay in the dark while they could only breathe. they can only pray, hope, that they might find anew kindness that had been ripped away from them. love that they lost, affection that had been cut apart by everything. stomped out embers of being cherished, of what remains of what had been parts of themselves that once lived. once breathed, but she feels alive. the wolf feels it, she even sees it in the way maiâs eyes may light up at the little things done thus far. how she seems so lively, so beautiful when she gets that smug look on her face. how she feels self-assured or tries to be regardless of her lowly views that cellinia did not know about.
now that is true beauty, even as she listens to her and remembers that heated promise. yes, she would have done her job well. sheâd have worn her out thoroughly, into tender dreams where this beast and her hunger chase away nightmares. all the nameless monsters that lie in wait would be no match for her, her bloodstained champion. a black knight instead of a white knight who had been shaped by this wretched world into the beast that she is. still a beast, a wolf and wild. free while promising the same to any woman insane enough to risk themselves to get that far. the right person who would return to her, covered in their blood or allow her that privilege to watch while wiping away their filth from her body. to give into passion there whether she had been injured or not amidst the chaos she gave them for their much larger sins of mistreating this girl. this goddess, princess, and her little red riding hood she has in those ink covered arms.)
One that I mean.
(she murmurs into the kiss, maybe sheâd even push away those nightmares with this alone. gentleness, the haunting of her lips and touch. in both ways sheâd do that. sheâd keep her awake until mai felt ready to give in to slumber, a restful sleep that could only be granted by celliniaâs own rough and worn hands. how theyâd take so very good care of her while she carries on those notes she adores hearing, her voice is another thing cellinia loves to hear. the soft sighs, the hums, and how sheâd moan so prettily when being claimed by this wolf. this beast of hers that would hardly ever find herself satisfied with only that alone.
haunting her is only part of it, the rest? the rest is claiming her properly as hers, whenever that day may come. sheâll mark her nice and proper. with teeth tenderly sinking into her neck and not moving to clamp down further. enough to give her the love only a beast could have. how it might feel to know that she could end her, but doesnât from this love that they know not they felt together since the moment they first kissed. itâs only fitting, fitting that she does that while treating her to what it means to belong to a wolf. to a wild wolf.)
It wouldnât be as worth it if I did that, picking you clean.
(careful, little wolf, you might make her fall for you more with that. or is that the intention without you both realizing? to say that, that you wouldnât want to pick her bones clean and leave. that she would hold her in her arms, treat her so tender and gently that she would never want to leave her den? her bed, even?)
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Date: 2025-04-28 11:58 am (UTC)Because it is already so very precious, this commencement of affections that are simply the answers to brokenhearted prayers. If only to assuage their brittle pride, they can pretend that they haven't been yearning for such a connection as much as they'd like to, until the truth of it refuses to be suffocated any longer. It's far too easy to lie beneath the harsh light of the day, after all, and tuck these feelings into the long shadows cast by the sun. But the merciless night strips them of this makeshift defenseâ when everything is bathed in shadow, where else can they hide from the emotions they had hoped to bury and flee from? And now, after the watchful moon has retreated after baring their darkness to one another, can these lovers truly continue to pretend that they can walk away unblemished by the other's thorns?
Ah, but how they shall long for more nights together, after coming to the silent conclusion that one was not nearly enoughâ and yet, how oblivious they are that is the night itself that has ruined them so magnificently. For the kisses they share now are far different than the ones hungrily indulged in yesterday afternoon. The tender words exchanged here carry a different weight than the easy flirtations traded as they satiated their frustrations discreetly in Cellinia's car. And when her wolf wraps her arms around her now, Mai can only feel the profound safety imbued in her throughout their night-long embrace.]
Hmm. It almost sounds to me like you're trying to play the long game, then.
[Doesn't it? Wanting to keep her forever, and treating her gently as she does, rather than sending her back in pieces as soon as she's had her fill. How endearingâ and perhaps Mai does fall just the tiniest bit more, whether or not she's aware of it. There's an unmistakable warmth in her eyes that alights in response to this reassurance, and when she brings their lips closer for another kiss, it is one that lingers more noticeably than those that came before. She can't deny it, that she definitely would have faulted Cellinia terribly if she had decided made a quick meal of Mai, instead. Time and time again, she's had to endure this very decision made for her, but now it slowly dawns on Mai, creeping into the openings of her heart split apart by the beautifully scheming nightâ that she tires of it. She tires of being left behind, of never being enough, of being forced to swallow fear when all she wants is to feel safe. And she tires of always being hurt, while never being loved.
There isn't a doubt in her mind that Cellinia means every word she says. And even if Mai can't bring herself to say it aloud, she believes her. Instinctively, she brings the hand that was upon her lover's leg to her own hip, where she caresses Cellinia's hand, there. That secure feeling burgeons beneath her skin, warming her far better than the heat of the water that envelops them both.]
You're a lot more patient than I would have guessed.
[It goes without saying that Cellinia is patient where Mai is sorely lackingâ though when it comes to that decision that the wolf had placed in her hands, that major decision, it's not a matter of patience on Mai's part. Rather, it's the fear that she still finds herself choking on. Yet if she can burrow in the safety that Cellinia promises, then that fear might someday loosen it's deadly hold on her. This wolf's patience shall be put to the test, but the reward promises to be oh so satisfying.]
I'm still deciding if I like it. But, I guess you're welcome to go on and savor me to your heart's content, until I figure it out.
[One more white lie to be filed awayâ of course she likes it. Mai claims another kiss, a savoring of her own because why let Cellinia have all the fun? Though, Mai craves something deeper, a more intimate connection. This position, though comfortable and sweet, hinders her desire, and so she draws herself forward so that she may shift and face Cellinia properly. Oh, but not even this is enough for herâ she braces her hands on the edge of the tub behind her lover's back while moving to place her knees on either side of Cellinia's hips, straddling her lap. Much better. Now she may kiss her unimpeded, and Mai still wants to lather those cute ears of hers. She can do all of it easily enough, in this position. Yes, they're still behaving⊠]
I'm sure you'll be good and wait for me, though.
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Date: 2025-04-29 03:35 am (UTC)those brokenhearted prayers, hope, and desires were futile. pride was something fickle, something that others abused to stomp upon those that were weaker. but itâs suffocating. how could one woman ignore it? much less two, both of them do themselves no favors in their ignorance and damning. they hide their hearts, what remains of them, and long to fill whole underneath it all. yet finding that someone has a steep price, a price perhaps too heavy for their already tired souls. longing destroys, so does letting in someone that would abuse that in a desire to feel love. that love which they so grant one another without realizing, the tender poison while those poisonous flowers in their garden they share lie in wait to one day bloom beautifully into something wicked. something that would never allow in another soul that might try to break it apart. nobody else could enter their world, their world of blood and rain. their world of thorns pricking into their skin as they fall apart to what had been missing, they need not admit that.
because itâs clear as day, they want more than a single night. that night which ruined them without thinking about it could only wait in the background, how it flexes itâs grasp on their minds to sink into them. their kisses, their flirtations, are different from what had been part of an idea that itâs only purely physical. physical love is easier, easier to those who might detach only for it to crush the ones that thirst for more. that are too tired of being used by those around them. itâd suffocate them more to deny that they crave beyond it, but weaknesses would often be used against them in many ways. in celliniaâs old world, itâd even kill those foolish enough to allow themselves to be weak. to open their hearts knowing that the cost is past something that can be paid with money. that could only be paid in blood when love comes into the picture.
she would know it, she denied love to one poor soul who felt it towards her often. for her, it was nothing. a chase of something physical, less than satisfactory. but that was a pair of young girls fooling around, or what could be thought of as along those lines as one woman sought to claim her as her own. it failed, if only because cellinia does not allow herself to be tied down by anyone. she is still wild, still free, but she knows what she thinks she wants. what this wolf wants is seeping into reality from this dreamlike world theyâre within together. she could see that light in maiâs eyes, how it reacts to learning she wonât pick her bones clean and leave. did she get hurt by people who did that often, is something the wolf thinks about for the moment. how much of it was pain caused by others who came into her bed? they must have never treated her with tender love, only a desire to get theirs and leave while offering promises that were never going to be fulfilled by the women that wanted her for the night.
how tired this girl must be to seek out warm affections from a beast who could have just as easily snapped her jaws on her for trying. she does not lash out, she only holds her. a pair of hands comfortably around her waist while offering more warmth than they had ever gave her. the wolf is something sweet in how some might think her words are lies, that she must be searching for a meal. reality as is typical, is not something theyâd consider. she doesnât look at her as a meal between each lingering kiss, the words were something she means in those whispers and vows. the darkly given promises of blood waiting to be spilled if mai gives her wolf and wicked knight the word. itâs instinct that causes her hand to pause its movements to relax in her loverâs hold. the brush of her soft fingers against rough skin, itâs soothing in itself.
warm, protective in how cellinia holds her. reassuring that theyâd both grant this safety to each other that has long since avoided them. patience is something she knows too well, cellinia is patient despite the way she can be hungry for mai to the point of surpassing it. sheâs one of the more calmer predators that someone could ever dream about. willing to wait, willing to allow her to feel more than that fear which grips her by the throat and chokes her. this wolf is offering her goddess quite the rewards if she did decide one day soon to answer that desire for bloody vengeance that has been long overdue for her kin.)
I can be patient, more than I can come off as.
(but thatâs only part of the fun, the wait. the long hunt, she would chase this girl and give her everything that those fools never had. sheâd shower her in affections that only the broken could give, while making more tender love to her the more these nights carry on between them. not just the urge for sex, for something physical, but seeking past that in how their warmth can only be shared between their weary souls. their bitter and jaded hearts which would have wept and called this a mockery of the pain theyâve suffered. she can tell her remark is another lie, another attempt at hiding it. how much she likes it, how much this girl craves it while sitting in her lap and indulging in kisses which theyâd get carried away eventually in sharing. all despite the word given that theyâd both behave long enough to bathe.
the wolf is dragged from her idle thoughts when mai shifts, her hands temporarily parting from her loverâs body while she watches her move to face the wolf proper. amber eyes land again on hazel, the two of them face to face while her little red riding hood straddles her. itâs instinct that causes cellinia to wrap her arms back around her, to rest one along her back while the other returns to itâs spot against her hip. between the kiss her lover takes, and how she savors it. cellinia reminds herself again, she must behave, but it feels impossible from the line before their eyes. how misbehaving is a temptation that is dangling without issue, waiting for them to step over it and fall again.)
Iâd always wait. Thatâs not even something I could deny.
no subject
Date: 2025-04-30 05:36 am (UTC)It's funny, how much easier physical love alone can be. That any amorous pair can simply bare their bodies to one another, not an ounce of love required for the way they'll give and take in their passions. All they would need are lips to bite and feast, hands to grab and possessâ but only for a spell, because what is a claim without love, other than a pleasure that is just as fleeting as any other that can be grasped at in this life? Cellinia can think of her past dalliances as being nothing, for Mai certainly will of her ownâ nothing but an escape from the inescapable, the anguish that is never too far behind. Yet, what they have now, together, is certainly far from nothing. When they pressed their bodies together, the wounds of their heart practically wept in relief, the blood of their painful short years mingling like a most poisonous curse.
But isn't the yearning for a love that can only be paid for with tainted blood such a marvel? How could it be anything other than the highest price and the highest honor? Surely, both Mai and Cellinia have witnessed such currency change hands before, if only from their family's dealings, legitimate or otherwise. They were two well-pedigreed young women, raised in the grandeur of acclaimed lineages whose wealth of achievements were held before them as examples of how they ought to prove their worth. Every honor and every accolade that could ever matter in their critical eyes has a priceâ and generously-spilled blood would triumph every time.
That it should be no different for this budding romance of theirs, is something that these lovers can leave out of their thoughts, for now. Their hands are still unsullied, as they brush against one another's affectionately beneath the water.]
You're a humble one, aren't you?
[Yes, she's plenty aware that her wolf is merely stating an unadorned truth, but the teasing still falls from her well-kissed lips easily enough. A truthfulness slithers beneath the banterâ Mai can forgive that Cellinia's patience far exceeds her own, but she refuses to accept a humility that is unbecoming of a beast so magnificent. The image of her wolf's lifeless eyes is irrevocably seared into her mind, after all. She can hardly fathom what atrocities had caused you to fall to such depths, Cellinia, but she can certainly believe that whatever strength it took to claw out of that abyss is worth the dignity that it deserves. So what, if even this pride is one that puts her own fragile ego to shame? One day, even Cellinia with her perceptive eyes, can see that Mai has long-since accepted that her own self-assurance would forever pale in the face of those whose tenacity she'd quietly admire.]
I guess I'll have to watch you carefully, hm? Do you think I can learn a thing or two, then?
[About nurturing a patience that could keep her impulsive nature at bay for as long as they decide to be involved with each other. Sardonically, she laughs again, their lips but a hairsbreadth apart between these soft kisses. Perhaps she means it only in jest, teasing the possibility of being a good enough student for once in her life to learn a virtue that seemed ill-placed in her character to begin withâ a goddess, sitting at the feet of her own devotee. How amusing she finds you, sweet wolf, that she would flirt with the idea of following your example and taking a lesson in patience, of all things, from a beast. Let patience remain the folly of humans, along with humilityâ but Cellinia does wear both so attractively.
She draws back from their kisses, already impatient for more, and already accepting that she could never, ever truly cloak herself in such a virtue for the sake of handling these curious new feelings with the gentleness one would expect. Her hands stroke along Cellinia's ears againâ can't she ever get enough, greedy girl?â and over her steam-dampened hair, until they find themselves cupping her jaw. Mai looks down at her from this position, and the thoughts of her lover's strange perfection tumble in her mind. There are the parts of her that are frightening, that would give any sane person pauseâ her wolfish features and the canvas of her flesh sporting well-storied tattoos and scars. Then there are aspects of her that are rather adorable, those same sharp ears that give Mai the sweetest reactions when she indulges in her impulse to play with them. And there are the parts that Mai finds utterly arrestingâ Cellinia's beauty, her eyes so reverent, and the siren song that her dark heart beckons to Mai with. How could all of this be hers, be Mai's? The laws of this universe must be breaking, broken, just as they had been the moment she took her first breath.
Mai keeps these thoughts to herself, of course, as her thumbs caress idly at Cellinia's cheeks, but the silence has gone on a beat too long for her to hide these thoughts behind a snarky remark or another greedy kiss. Could this be another mistake, that she lets her walls fall a bit more, this way? That she doesn't make the effort to distract Cellinia from her mind's wandering with another good-natured barb? Perhaps what she wishes to do next might count as a distractionâ though more for herself, than anything. She reaches for one of the shampoo bottles she had lined up, and with her free hand, rubs at one of Cellinia's ears again.]
Let me�
[A question only asked out of the courtesy of voicing her intentions. Much like the other times she has played the well-mannered young miss (a joke, for she was only ever passable at best), she lets the facade crumble upon itself in favor of letting her true amusement shine through.]
no subject
Date: 2025-04-30 10:10 am (UTC)physical love, it could be easier. not to think too much, to touch and consume then move on while pretending they would be fine. that something more was not worth the effort in their lives while ignoring that spark, the spark which struck between them. sometimes people might find it easier to act as though that never happened, cellinia can be guilty of it knowing her past with one person. she wonât think much about it with the number of people mai might have been hurt by with the expectation of desiring more, of wanting more than a single night only for it to go ignored by those she cried out to silently. this is more than that nothing they gave her, their bodies fit together nicely and that poison of love they ignore mingles through their veins. in their blood, their hearts, how far down could it go? might it reach their souls? rot them further in love and venom that could only be shared in a curse as ruinous as this that theyâve cast upon one another?
exchanges like this, promised with tainted blood and love are always dangerous, risky. watching as grown men give up their lives for this, their honor and their everything like theyâve realized they amount to nothing without it. without love, theyâre nothing. without the object of their desire, theyâre worthless. worthless fools who could only be strung about like puppets dancing for those that might even find their pain funny, how far theyâre willing to go or if theyâd pay the ultimate price for the honor bestowed upon them. as girls of their pedigree, itâs only natural theyâve seen it themselves. how love ruins and destroys them. how anything could destroy people from their respective worlds, prices were paid at a large cost and they would know it. because theyâve seen it so often, cellinia herself has. even in the world of plays that she had been dragged to by another friend in her childhood that wished to indulge in the arts. that saw herself as a playwright as time went on with the desire to write them. but cellinia did not care for wealth, the grandeur of it. she saw throwing it around as pointless.
blood might be spilled, eventually. their hands could not remain clean forever, yet thatâs a given. for a romance like theirs, there would be no innocence. no fairy-tale could compare to what this story would bring them. theyâd make them all pale in comparison to it, to their own lives which twist and turn. that the darkly given vows would only grow further as they keep falling harder, more for this goddess before the wolf and this wolf before her. but enough about that, their hands are more busy in tender affections given to one another as they lounge in the bath.)
Mm, Iâm not one for bragging.
(arrogance was never her thing, what they get instead is cold truth. the atrocities of the past were many, none good. nothing sheâd ever mention when their lips part briefly, barely any space is there between them. humility is something imparted in her. something that she never let go of even once, her strength is only in part due to her own resolutions. her decision in knowing what she could have had happened. had she gone another way, she would have been lost. maybe she might show you, mai, how far sheâs willing to go for you. how much sheâs willing to give in her own desire to push out of despair. despair, death, and blood that had grown to be a common occurrence. tenacity that she held like it was something her life depended on whenever cellinia had begun to piece herself together again. this strength, however, is not easy to obtain, and she recognizes that. not everyone has it in them to keep going after what sheâs gone through. breaking from a cycle is never easy.)
Maybe. Thatâs if you want to.
(if she wants to be a good student, maybe this wolf can show her goddess so much more. plenty more than their respective worlds could have given her. they didnât deserve to have these delights that she would give mai, the romance and how sheâd touch her. the gifts she gives her goddess that sits comfortably in her lap while she stops her head from wandering into less than chaste thoughts from their closeness. she finds you endearing, beautiful goddess, knowing that would be a struggle. she wouldnât make you learn these lessons unless you desired it. a lesson in which theyâd both find themselves taking their time more. but, mai wears impatience so well. as she does, her smugness, her pride. cellinia finds them both attractive parts of her love to the point of often saying it.
ah, even cellinia wants more kisses whenever they part again. she doesnât look away, not from her lover with those reverent eyes. how they stare so full of devotion once more. those ears of hers twitch into the strokes of soft fingers while her wolf starts to melt again to the touch theyâre granted. they do (of course) droop in disappointment to her hands leaving again. fickle things that delight in the affection she gives them, but she canât divert her gaze. cellinia finds herself getting lost in her, in her eyes while their poor darkened hearts call out to one another. a demand and a wish for this love theyâve been starved of for so long. this girl, she wants to make her so badly into hers. only hers. theyâd never stop her if cellinia had her say, not even the universe would prevent her from that desire. the broken rules of it could burn, too.
she neednât think too much while leaning into her loverâs hands, a kiss pressed to the palm of one at first while maiâs thumbs rub into fair cheeks. the distraction of her hand going back to her ears is helpful, to deter any other thoughts from breaching into their dream. reality being pushed away again while cellinia melts to maiâs hand giving her ears attention. the ear she strokes happily twitches into it while her wolf nuzzles against her hand. how cute of her, before her attention falls back on the now. on mai speaking and holding that bottle, this is another privilege not so easily granted. touching her ears, theyâre sensitive, you know? because of that, thereâs only one thing that can be said. knowing that mai has earned this rarest of privileges.)
Go ahead, Mai, touch them as much as you want to. Be careful, they can be sensitive....
(setting herself up for future trouble, but itâs apparent that her ears are sensitive. her tail even is in a certain spot, were mai to reach for the base and stroke at it more. aside from the typical with not wanting it pulled roughly or too hard. that would make her bite any poor bastards that went that far.)
no subject
Date: 2025-05-01 08:45 am (UTC)Though, of course bragging isn't Cellinia's style. Another hallmark of one who has found their rhythm in an otherwise ruthless world. Her life can speak for itself, the untethered way she lives her days. And whoever she answers toâ for doesn't everyone answer to someone, no matter how free one is?â must not leash her all that tightly, if at all. That alone might be something brag-worthy, if Cellinia would ever give herself the indulgence.
Really, what else does boasting serve, other than a way to fill a bothersome and profound emptiness with lofty words? As much as she loathes it, Mai can recognize this in her own attitude, a compulsion she doesn't even bother fighting. There are quite a few aspects of her life that she is reluctant to challenge, aren't there? Like the chains of her bloodline shackling her tightly to the source of her own despair, knowing she'll return no matter how badly she might hope to flee. Still, despite being so love-starved and afraid to sever her own bonds, something in the way Cellinia watches her dares to reinforce the possibility that she can still deserve to be rebuilt after she shatters apart for this affection. Maybe she can't be patient, or humble, or even strong enough to hold her ownâ but could she be something to be loved forever? What would she have to do, what would she have to change, for her to truly be certain of it? What a questionâ she thought she had long since grown tired of asking it.
Mai is painfully aware, that if she wished to be anything different, she would just be a sorry imitation of the brilliant examples of true freedom around her, right? It's hard enough to fathom becoming a better iteration of her sorry self, joking suggestions aside. Cellinia's nonchalant reply makes it clear that she doesn't wish to impress any change that Mai isn't willing to make. Another thing this wolf recognizes, surely, is that her own tenacity is in a class unparalleled.]
It's always, 'if you want you,' with you.
[There isn't any real gravity in the frustration within this remark, but it would be a lie if Mai didn't find herself struggling a bit with the freedom of choice that Cellinia never fails to offer her. Surely it's nothing more than generosity, a marked lack of pushiness that is otherwise commonplace in Mai's life. Her keen wolf might even be able to see that it's still difficult to shake old habitsâ ones that have Mai drawn to easy decisions, a path she doesn't need to think too hard about because everything is already outlined for her. She hates it, of course, hates every decision she has been powerless to stop. And maybe she hates that she can see a divergence in this structured path, now, one that Cellinia's influence creates for her, whether her lover is aware of this or not.
If Mai is fortunate, this perceptive wolf might not be able to sense her trepidation at taking the first step upon this forked road. She'll dare to turn away from the familiar, and reach into the haze of hushed promises and a warmth that she might happily let burn her alive.]
Oh, I know they are.
[She murmurs, her palm tingling from the kiss Cellinia gives her there. Mai knows that those ears are rather sensitive to touch, especially those of a more tender nature. How adorable, that they so clearly miss her fingers when they droop the second that they're bereft. It's such an easy affection to give, that Mai is only too happy to do so. The sight, the feel of Cellinia nuzzling into her touch as soon as she resumes is something that Mai cherishes with obvious pleasure. Her eyes light up at the permission given. It's far better than a mere 'Yes, go ahead,' or some other dry manner of approval. Cellinia makes it plain that Mai has the special privilege of touching as much as she wants to, so long as she does so with care.]
Don't worry, I'll be nice and gentle for you.
[She'll coo it almost suggestively, though she'll no doubt keep her word. Let not the sparkle of mischief in her eyes give the impression of any hidden, wicked intentions. Mai will be good, and she'll show you that she's just as capable of behaving, Cellinia. Yes, she can be a surprisingly good girl when she has something that she wants to proveâ a worthiness, in this case, of handling something so delicate. It's fitting, for her hands were never meant for the harshness of battle or gruesome slaughtering. Mai would much rather have luxurious, plush sensations beneath her fingertips. In another lifetime, she supposes, if she had been born the talented niece of the family head, instead of the disappointment she ended up being. A pointless cycle of terrible thoughtsâ Mai is perfectly fine making do with what she has before her, now. The beautiful, soft ears of a strangely patient wolf are quite the consolation prize, no? One might think them better than any finery she might have enjoyed had her position in life been any less dismal. She can do it, Mai believesâ she can return the favor and treat Cellinia like she herself is a treasure.
Who can say, this might be a rare privilege for the wolf to have for herself, a sweeter Mai that so few are ever so lucky to experience. And the others who have been witness to this side of her aren't without scratches and bruises from her callous natureâ ah, but Cellinia has earned herself a fair handful of her own, hasn't she? Though, of a far different natureâŠ
No matter, Cellinia has asked her to treat her carefully, and so Mai shall do just that. Slowly, she scoops handfuls of water gently over her ears and hair, stroking her head gently whenever her palm is empty. She takes particular care not to spill anything over her lover's face or past the protective fluff of the wolfish ears, humming thoughtfully to herself periodically as she carries out her task. It's an exercise in tenderness, one that she thinks herself clumsy at despite doing well enough. She wants more chances, after all, of enjoying those sweet ears that twitch happily for her.
One satisfied, Mai pours a bit of shampoo between her hands and begins to lather it at Cellinia's crown to start. The soft fragrance fills the steamy air between them, a scent that Mai wouldn't mind breathing in deeply whenever she cuddles against her lover next. Her fingers then ease the bubbles over the slick fur of Cellinia's ears, and a rather agreeable smile plays upon her lips as she gets to indulge in this little act of grooming. She only half-stifles a laugh at how darling Cellinia looks like this, with the dark fur contrasting against the pale foam.]
CuteâŠ
no subject
Date: 2025-05-02 10:01 am (UTC)that love is all theyâd ever need in this cruel world. she steps about with her world unrestrained, alive. nothing could stop her and not even her boss cares to do such a thing, if she was still breathing and alive, then who was he to stop that? her indulgences were a part of her living, just the same way that she offers a chance at holding the leash to an animal such as herself. that wolf who allows herself calmly to wait until that day her teeth would be stained in blood and the blood of those who sullied a goddess. the taint of it being something that would never wash away easily. not as long as she breathes, not as long as they seek to hurt this poor lonesome girl.
how is that not something worthy of bragging about? look at this beautiful beast, this beast which mai has in her hands. she can hold her, she can touch her as she pleases. even watch as this beast brings the world to her, at her feet and held out as an offering from this disgraceful and sinful knight. her sins which would never be absolved, used as a means of entangling them further into one another. their souls mingling, their hearts holding tightly on to what is dangled out before them. why wouldnât they? they longed for love, they ignore it so desperately without knowing that itâs too late for them to step away from what it deemed to be their time. this sweetness that would suffocate and drown them together in rain and blood. let that garden bloom, the venomous flowers of poison and darkly whispered vows. change is not something the wolf would force upon her goddess, but she would surely be there in their eternal vows as the one thatâd never leave her side. that sheâd surrender to her love as a means of showing her that she may rebuild the same way this broken mess of a woman before the little goddess did. the answer to her questions would take time, and cellinia herself could not answer them for her.
she recognizes not the way mai hesitates to take the first step, but this is a dance of two. in harmony, they must step about, they must dance and move the way the rhythm before them dictates. or the way that cellinia might bring them both true freedom in how she grants these choices, allowing her more than the suffocating feeling of oppression that came from the forced decisions of monsters that felt it necessary to press upon this girl their ideas. their means of calling agony to her tired mind and body could only be considered another mark to the list of misdeeds that were committed to this girl. all which would be paid in blood when the time comes, if ever, for such a thing to be done by her willing knight. when she said that this choice is maiâs own, she means it. humility is not something cellinia expects of her, truly, she expects this girl to be whatever she feels her true self must be. be it that goddess who in all her pride stands above the men and women, the wretched bastards who did this to her as being absolved of their damnation or as the little red riding hood who wants to be whisked away by a wolf.
cellinia means the words âif you want toâ as placing upon mai freedoms that were never granted to her, not without the intention of abusing it for whatever choice they felt she made wrong. her lover may not be aware of it, not of how her presence causes her goddess to have her perception changed, but itâs interesting. the way that she breaks the maze to pieces while giving mai more ways to traverse it. showing her each path, her pace set about on a slow trail while calling out from hidden shortcuts or walls that cellinia destroyed personally. thatâs only fitting she did, she has that way about her. dancing along while pausing in her wild steps, the steps of a storm called a beast and woman, to treat a girl with tenderness that she never once had in her life.
theyâll burn, theyâll fly, theyâll drift away under the sea granted them. this is their roads, their maze, and their own paths to take. nobody would take away from mai this chance if cellinia could help it, cellinia might even go as far as to give to her everything her battered heart has held itself together with. if it means that she never does without again, sheâd do that. those are promises given under the moon that would be upheld in the most tender of ways if the wolf were to eventually swear it to her.)
Thought youâd notice.
(because thatâs clear, her ears are sensitive things. she murmurs it in kind, amber eyes looking up at her lover through her lashes. she must look lovely, making eye contact like this while her ears seem happy with the attention theyâre getting. cellinia doesnât just nuzzle into anyone the way she does maiâs hand, she doesnât let any random person touch those cute ears of hers. she also doesnât give them the permission that sheâs granted mai, either. granting her free rein over them and the opportunity to touch them to her hearts content as a delight that can be kept between them. ah, her goddess lit up brighter at how she granted her those words. how it makes cellinia want to kiss her again. deeply, soft, and melting. sheâs not, if only because they did need to behave for the moment, long enough to finish this bath.)
Iâll kiss you plenty if you do....
(the words flow out, a soft murmur and purr in the sweet offering. that near suggestive coo almost lights her on fire again, sheâs going to watch closely now, mai. those soft hands are her favorite part of her lover, although, cellinia might remark, all of her is lovely. those hands and her voice are especially, her lips are another. how they seem to call out to her, the kiss of them being a beautiful song that coaxes from the wolf such wonderful notes. the wolfâs fluffy ears sit patiently, a near twitch of them at the attention theyâre getting. that must be a rarity for this part of the wolf, then. from how prickly she is, it would take considerable time to get near touching them. another thing for mai to feel pride in of her own, who can say that they get to freely touch the ears of a beast? not many, or perhaps nobody else could. that mai wants to try and treat cellinia like a treasure is fine with her wolf, too. sheâll have to spoil her further in return, be it by making tender love with her again on their altar or more chaste moments of calm in their weary lives.
she appreciates it, how mai gives cellinia a gift of her own in what she offers in a quiet moment. amber eyes follow those hands she would kiss along plenty, until mai reaches for the water to wet along the fur of her sharp ears. the wolf relaxes beneath her, her head tilted slightly back to help her goddess in her own want to be tender with her wolf.
her hums are what cellinia focuses on, for now. cute, is something she thinks to herself. clumsy attempts or not, theyâre welcomed attempts at tender affection. enough that her ears twitch along idly to gentle rubs of her head. cellinia for her part is rubbing maiâs back again, slowly, affection given and returned during the task at hand while theyâre in a more comfortable moment of love and care. sheâll wash her loverâs back in return for this, as another step between them in a moment of domestic bliss that never once could have been granted to them.
for a moment, celliniaâs eyes close, but not without her stoic expression softening into something relaxed. like sheâs melting to her loverâs touch at the scent of lavender shampoo filling the air, a soft and soothing scent. those ears of hers, they twitch again into maiâs capable fingers before relaxing. perhaps she might even look far too adorable for someone that could end lives without a second thought, especially after those lovely eyes open half-lidded at the sound of laughter from her lover. the melody of it, half-stifled or not, grabbing the wolfâs attention with the single word uttered. âcuteâ.)
Cute, am I?
no subject
Date: 2025-05-04 07:49 am (UTC)But if Mai should decide to never loose her precious wolf upon the monsters who wouldn't hesitate to ripe her to shreds themselves, perhaps this leash could at least tether to her side for as long as she wishes. Forever, if her heart could even fathom an eternity that would desire her uninspired existence. Yet it's true, they have made eternal vows without even considering the gravity of their wordsâ a leash of its own, binding them to the mistress of destiny. The dark longings that stew in their hearts only make these vows all the more concrete, even if these lovers can only see the dark waves of misery rushing over their feet. Believing themselves unable to grasp this pact, this budding love, neither realize that it is love that grasps them. That it speaks to Mai through Cellinia's promise and her wordless devotion, and that speaks to Cellinia through Mai's loneliness, her desperation to be kept safe.
Who shall they be, in the end? A broken soul might not see the choices held out to them, might not see them as true paths meant for them to follow. So who shall these two become, the longer they dance in one another's arms, to the rhythm of Fate, the melody of love that builds ever-slowly as they find their footing? Would they waltz to the hymn dedicated to a proud goddess and her most ardent follower, who pays her tribute in the blood of tormentors? Or would theirs be a simple little tune, a lullaby telling of how this little red riding hood remained in the depths of the forest with her wolf, leaving behind her quest in favor of freedom? Cellinia, world-worn as she is, recognizes that this is what waits at the end of the maze she deconstructsâ freedom. To claim it, all Mai needs to do is allow her own eyes to adjust to something greater than the narrow path of certain despair, and take that hand held out to her.
What her eyes take in at this moment, though, is enough to assuage the fear of traversing this maze. Cellinia watching Mai from beneath her dark lashes, how she moves and caresses her ears, as if there was nothing more interesting in this world than her. Watching her hands, and promising her kisses for a considerate touch. And what a promise that is, how easy it is for her generous wolf to offer such rewards. Mai doesn't respond to that promise right away with words, rather, a knowing grin as she holds Cellinia's head tenderly, dipping her head low enough to steal a quick kiss before she's finished with her task. Hasn't she already earned it, though? She can tell that Cellinia is all too keen on laying claim to her lips again.]
Hmph. You want to kiss me plenty, already.
[And the feeling is mutual, can it be any more obvious? For now, though, they'll simply have to make do with letting their hands fulfill what their lips cannot. At first, Mai arches slightly in response to Cellinia's palms running slowly along her back, before quickly easing into how soothing it feels. It feeds the fire of her own yearnings, too, you know. How she longs to press her body fully against her lover's, drape her arms about her neck and do more than sneak a single kiss. But, that would veer dangerously into 'misbehaving' territory, wouldn't it? They'd never make it out of the tub. Mai would be fine with that.
The dance they take part in now is merely a warm-upâ it's so very important to be good when it's called for, if only so they can be as bad as they please afterward. Can their kisses stay just kisses, once they begin again? It's difficult to say for certain, with how they've discovered how splendid it is to bury themselves in a blissful affection that simply doesn't exist out there, in that dreary outside world. What began as a hunger for something purely carnal now begins to cloak itself in something soft and caring, forgiving in how they wordlessly absolve one another of sins they dare not yet share.
Here, together while they still have daylight to take advantage of, they can cleanse one another of the stains that mar them. Here, Mai can comb her soapy fingers through Cellinia's hair, admiring how silkily it catches the light before she works the foam along the strands. They really do have to tidy up, and why not help one another out a little? Cellinia is more than welcome to assist Mai however she desiresâ whenever Mai has decided that she's gotten her fill of playing with her cutely twitching ears. Not yet, not yet, and she'll not conceal her mirth at Cellinia's curiosity.]
Mm-hmm.
[There's no denying it, or even trying to justify herself at this fact. Cellinia is very cute, especially like this, head tipped back and eyes half-open and watching Mai's little amusement at it. Is it a word that she's only heard a handful of times to describe her? How sadâ though Mai can't bring herself to pity the ones who might've missed the chance to compliment her for being so agreeable beneath them.]
And if you're going to tell me that you'd rather be scary, don't. Because I don't like scary things at all.
[Doesn't Cellinia want to be liked by her? Mai's tone seems to convey this cheeky remark beneath her declaration, though they both know that they want the other to like themâ and they both know that they already do.]
no subject
Date: 2025-05-06 06:47 am (UTC)everything that family had stripped away of her might become a distant memory if thatâs her decision, be it to leave them or end them. this is a gift of devotion, of worship and darker longings. promises uttered that nobody sane would consider. eternity isnât enough, not for the broken souls like theirs. with or without considering the gravity of their vows uttered underneath a moonlit night, what good did overthinking it do? it did nothing. what cellinia does is take fate into her own hands, her way. it may threaten to rip her to shreds, it might even one day kill her as fast as she came into this world. they give out love their worn down souls had longed for.
they embrace misery and wash it away in absolution. they break away maze walls and loneliness to a truth they do not face. that is love. budding romance, a budding love would both make and unmake them. at the end of it, they didnât need anything more than that while they breathed. while they danced under the moonlight, fate is nothing and neither is destiny in the arms of a lover. like those stories, the fairy tales that they both have long since stopped believing in when they proved to be fake in their longing for something to change. the only difference being one girl took it upon herself to force the change she had been after, the other has given up to the nameless devils that torment her and more in a desire for them fade away. for what might one day be vindication, or perhaps even release from their grasp in true freedom while they disappear off to somewhere theyâd never find her again.
isnât it always so obvious? she has a craving for her lips that has yet to fade, that hasnât stopped since their first kiss. how she can kiss this girl so tenderly, how she can kiss her in a breathless and graceless mess while their bodies are pressed tight together. they donât need reality, either. not as long as theyâre together. reality is only something that both girls can make their own in the way they desire it. though one might be more experienced in that than the other after her hard-earned freedom from a life she found herself hating more. as she lived it, she found herself so tired. so full of anger at the audacity, the way that it destroyed those around them for only a desire to live themselves. it crushed them, it ended them. but enough about that, what she has her eyes on is something real. something in her grasp without realizing when she hums softly into the stolen kiss and tender grasp of her head.
as expected, her desire is always going to be evident in that regard.
the smile is all the sweeter, how her goddess leans more into her body and melts at her hands tender affections. mai was right, theyâd not make it out of the tub if she did. did cellinia care? no, she didnât. sheâd touch her more for that, sheâd decorate her collar in fresher marks and kisses while their bodies near mingle together. to allow the world to fade away for a little longer in each touch and brush of their skin, each nip of teeth along sensitive places. each kiss given delicately as they please or tenderly on both blemished and unblemished flesh. their bodies are something they can lay claim on. something that theyâd mark themselves as theirs in this prelude. this dance theyâre doing together of many throughout their lives with their partner being another weary soul who makes them feel home.
their sins arenât worth that effort of considering, they didnât need the attention. attention that they both seem more keen on giving to one another, knowing their kisses would rarely stay only a kiss for long is only part of it. burying themselves in this warmth is more than worth the effort of their tired souls to keep going. because their sins could stay far away in this embrace, their hearts could feel something more than the dreadful weight that drags them down off into bottomless pits, until that hand offered by both sides reached out further. into the maze, into the bottomless pit of their lives.
sheâll do whatever mai needed her to do when her lover gets her fill, of those cute ears that happen to be twitching for her when her fingers brush against their fur. the fluff of them, even. she does clean up nicely, donât you think? so far, anyway. between that and how the black and red strands of her hair is something smooth in itself. soft and easy to run her fingers along through, to card them and play with it as a more chaste distraction to their constant want of one another.
itâs only another thing, another part of themselves that they grant when cellinia catches the mirth in maiâs eyes. how itâs genuinely cuter of her than the wolf. it suits her more, the twinkle of mischief, of something softer in a normally prickly girl that wears her edges like a suit of armor. but can the wolf be blamed for her curiosity? sheâs hardly ever been called this seriously. cute, that is.)
Mm? I donât need to be scary with you.
(another crack, another serious remark. what good was frightening her lover? she did want her to stay, she wanted her near. cellinia didnât need to be scary for her, she didnât even want to drive her away from her arms. if anything, she wanted more than that enough that her greed might be the scary part while she sits calmly for her lover. allowing her to take in this cute sight of her melting, to see her at ease and compliant.
thatâs another sweeter prize in itself, one that theyâd never know about. the words whispered, the promises, and how cellinia gets flushed pink at such words. faint, but she canât hide it from mai. itâs doubtful that she ever could for long knowing the way she tends to get underneath the surface and how cellinia presents herself.)
no subject
Date: 2025-05-08 04:32 am (UTC)Yet, in a way, Mai can recognize the slivers of what she seeks, dancing in the shadows where her lover's vows lurk in the meantime. Because Cellinia isn't her mirror, no. Whenever her hazel eyes trail over her, drinking in every inch with an unsatisfied curiosity, everything upon the surface reminds her that this wolf is far from being her reflection. But in a way, is there not a novel manner of comfort to be found in this simple fact? Cellinia needs not be exactly what Mai seeksâ but rather, something far greater than what she might have ever fathomed. She doesn't know it now, of course, the two of them still fresh in this bizarre affair of theirs, yet Mai can be perceptive, as well. A force of habit from the life she needed to survive. This, too, is something she'll have to surviveâ this new feeling that will almost certainly tear her heart into the prettiest of pieces to be put back together again
Taking care of her lover with these chaste little touches are a fine distraction from the gravity of what this all really means, anyway. Mai's hands leave those happily twitching ears in favor of soaping up the rest of Cellinia's hair, laying sections of sudsy strands over her shoulders and covering her lovely and bitten bosom as she finishes them. White bubbles clinging to the black-red locks dissolve into the water as soon as the ends kiss the surface. It'll all get washed off, eventually, but this only adds to the cute image of the wolf sitting patiently beneath herâ her hair half-covered in the foam of the sweet-smelling shampoo, the bulk of it coating her fluffy ears like airy little clouds. Oh, but the sweetest part of this is that unmistakable flush gracing her cheeks. Faint or not, Mai gleefully takes pleasure in this sight, feeling like she's getting exactly what she wants. Spoiled girl, really.]
Well, that's a relief.
[As always, the soft mocking in her voice is thinly-veiled. Maybe she is a tad relieved, though, hearing it from Cellinia's lips. Her honest little wolf, reminding her once again that their time spent with one another is not a spell of false benevolence, concealing what nature would otherwise dictate of a beast. But it's her blushing that betrays the most, an expression wholly unbefitting of someone who might have intended to act every bit the frightening encounter for a petulant girl. Cellinia openly declares that she harbors no such intentionsâ and this only makes her all the more charming. Enough so that Mai dares to pepper light kisses across the pink hue of her cheeks. Is there any point in resisting? It's fineâ there's nothing salacious about these kisses. Not yet, anyway.]
You wouldn't get this far if you did.
[Though, the same can be said for the both of themâ had Cellinia been anything more terrifying from the get-go, Mai would have quietly retreated, likely cursing her typical laziness for putting her in the path of something that would only inspire more nightmares. Whenever she can avoid it, she's all too happy to close her eyes to the terrors that seem to slink around every corner. It's fortunate that Cellinia, for all of her menacing decorationsâ hereditary or otherwiseâ is still more cute than scary. Yet, who does this luck seems to favor more, little red riding hood or her wolf? The correct answer is almost certainly both of them.
Mai's fingers are once more caressing the soaped-up fur of Cellinia's sharp ears once she acknowledges that she'll be needing to rinse it all off before long. She sits up just enough to lean forward and reach up for the handheld shower head with her free hand, and before she returns to sit fully on Cellinia's lap again, Mai leans in to one well-lathered ear and murmurs cheekily.]
Just be scary for everyone else, then.
[Mai knows it's a tall ask, impossible even, not at all a productive one if Cellinia is to keep being a working girl. And who knowsâ Mai could find herself playing the hypocrite sooner rather than later. If Cellinia's greed would be the scariest side of herself that she'd choose to share with Mai, then it just might be the kind of fright that this girl could get accustomed to. She'd suffer the adrenaline rush and forfeit herself to the jaws of a wolf, tremble beneath her keen eyes if that's what was demanded of of her. It could be a rather fun game of give and take, this flirtation with the roles expected of them by the outside world.]
no subject
Date: 2025-05-09 08:15 pm (UTC)about loves lost, people taken from them, the ever burning desire to find again that peace so easily ripped from their hands. they lost what could have been, a future theyâd never have and a present that was ever-changing. what it gives them now is something more curious than what once had been their respective lives and worlds. they chase echos, be it of themselves or something deeper. love is something dangerous in how it might end and rebirth them into what felt like dying and living. theyâd live when together, theyâd die when apart. being reflections didnât matter, not a perfect reflection yet enough of one that it strings them together more in this promised gift of everything the wolf has to offer this poor little red riding hood. unusual, bizarre, and even dangerous in the ways that it would tear them apart. cellinia can recognize that, that there is a danger in it and how there was no telling if she would ever be the same again after their meeting.
pleasant distractions are better than the thoughts that might swirl about, how in deep can they be? how far would they go as they lose themselves to love? wonât they be lost again without it or are they telling themselves that this only is another thing that wasnât true when their hearts could cry so loudly, so desperate and needing this salve offered by their lover. her ears again relax without being as disappointed that mai had stopped in favor of tending to the black-red strands of her hair. the patience of this predator isnât a surprise. what is the surprise is that lovely faint pink flush to her cheeks, offering another sweet gift. more spoils for her, sights that none can say theyâve had from her. not even those friends of hers in the pictures has seen the way cellinia could be flustered when she likes someone to that point.
is it truly a relief? perhaps. she doesnât have it in her to scare away this girl, not now. maybe even never with it being intentional. soft mockery and the way maiâs eyes look at her says enough that cellinia neednât say another word. that she likes it. sheâd remain safe with this wolf, this wolf who betrays herself in that pretty pink shade of blush to her sharp features, with her goddess kissing along the color to them. like something chaste in her mannerisms while they both know that any further steps beyond that would result in this bath becoming a different thing entirely. they wouldnât behave any longer while falling deeper into a sweet trap that threatens them more than the unending depths of rain threatening them in the desert it blesses with eternal water.
what mai is getting is beyond the fear that cellinia could have driven into anyone else knowing sheâs a wolf. predators are supposed to be frightening, but she obtained instead a more curious one that is so gentle for her while threatening others with her actual bite. it would be funny were cellinia capable of being frightening towards others while maintaining something of a normal and mundane life with her lover. with her friends, even.)
True....
(fortunately, she loosens up her hold on mai for now while giving a simple answer to her, so that she could grab the shower head while caressing her ears again. those ears which are twitching into her fingers, melting at attention granted to them by proxy of them being adorable. adorable on a girl that shouldnât even be perceived as cute herself for how vicious cellinia might be underneath the surface whenever it comes to the things sheâd do without being fazed. who knows, their luck is looking better than it had at the start. the odds themselves are still stacked against the girls, but perhaps theyâll get somewhere. somewhere beyond the cage for one and the loneliness of another.
she shivers at the way her lover murmurs to her, her ears really are sensitive things in how they stand tall. betraying her again in showing how much she liked hearing her voice speaking to her so lowly, a reminder is given to the part of herself that could be coaxed into misbehaving that they did need to try finishing this bath. try. if it turns to a failure, they might very well make it into more of a habit. but is that so bad? they didnât have to focus on the world or all the things it might do to them again. all that they needed is in front of this pair of jaded girls who flirt too much with what would surely be them falling at their deepest.
a glorious fall, drowning them forever and binding them in a union that would surely be something lethal for what they once were. cellinia does have a job to do, but she couldnât help the thought of eventually taking mai along during working hours. seeing and testing how well they both could avoid getting hot and heavy on the job while in her car, or perhaps in any other places they shouldnât be fooling around in. her greed really is growing in how she might display it when given the chance at the thoughts now coming in against the more serious ones of earlier.)
I could cover your eyes before I do anything frightening, or treat you sweetly after while apologizing.
no subject
Date: 2025-05-11 01:06 am (UTC)This is what girls like them are reduced to now, isn't it? Taking part in agreeable distractions from the missteps and failures that have sapped the light from their eyes, in the hopes that maybe this time, this time, they might retrieve true relief in the depths of another. It's a gamble to reach in blindly, no matter how accustomed one might be to the darkness. Yet the two of them seem to be fine like this, grasping about albeit nervously, wondering if their wandering hands might set off some unseen trap, tearing them a wound that would join the others in how deep and unhealing it would become.
It's amusing, that these lovers can be cautious in their own subconscious ways, while their bodies charge ahead rather recklessly.
Mai catches the way Cellinia's ears perk up when she speaks against them, and her body feels the slight tremor going through the wolf at that same act. It doesn't take much, does it? Oh, how Mai adores the way Cellinia trembles beneath her, whether it's innocently like this, or at the mercy of her appetite atop sheets they'll mess up again. It makes her swell with the pride of having the power without needing to do anything more than this. But, it only makes her think almost too immediately of all the ways that she can get even more delightful reactions if she dares to go just a bit further.]
Oh, really? You'd cover my eyes before doing bad things, hm?
[Honestly, what are you to do with this mischief-maker, Cellinia? She's twisted your words for her amusement, and leaves no room for guessing where her thoughts sharply veer with the way her laughter fills the room again. Is it her fault? Cellinia makes it too easy for her, and if she can enjoy that blush for just a moment longer, she won't pass up the chance. Taking Cellinia's chin and tilting her head back, Mai waits for the water to become warn enough to wash away her handiwork from the dark fur and hair. Her fingers move to shield her wolf's pretty, blushing face from the stream of water and shampoo that otherwise descends into the bath. A gentle touch, an admiring gaze, despite the amorous intent of her words.]
You're really into that kind of thing, aren't you?
[She purrs, an obvious allusion to Cellinia's penchant for restraints. The idea of it might be a little different, here, but Mai will prod her with a teasing reminder anyway. Whether or not her lover means something far more innocent than what her own thoughts conjure up, doesn't matter all that much to Mai. She's inspired, goaded even, to let her know that she's thinking of it, this suggestive little memory she intends on treasuring, especially when she finds herself lonely once more.]
But I bet you're prettiest when you're begging for forgiveness. I'd find ways for you to make it up to me, I think.
[Already, thoughts of all of the ways that Cellinia might earn that forgiveness tumble about in her head as she runs warm water over the last patches of foam. Perhaps their thoughts are not so far off from one another's, when it comes down to it. Cellinia has given her wicked mind a taste of just how sweetly she can treat herâ and that was without a mistake to correct. Forget that this entire encounter began as a mistake on both of their parts, one that they're no doubt satisfied to have made, in the end. Neither shall complain too much if they add to the pile, should Cellinia choose to have Mai tag along with her on days when the job is plenty demanding. Goodness knows that they have a poor track record keeping their hands to themselves while in her car⊠]
Wellâ I probably wouldn't have you apologizing for too long. Lucky you, right?
[But a nice and proper girl certainly wouldn't be insinuating the kinds of things that Mai currently is. A better use of her lover's mouth, undoubtedly, offered under the benevolent guise of sparing Cellinia the shame of profusely apologizing for frightening herâ with words, anyway. She shouldn't object, right? Because Mai really does hate scary things, and what better way to remedy body-freezing terrors than something decidedly more hot and pleasing?
At last, the shampoo is thoroughly rinsed through. Cellinia's hair is without a single speck of lather, though scented pleasantly with lavender, calming, and irresistibly so. Enough that, once Mai replaces the shower head and wraps her arms tightly around her lover's shoulders, she breathes her in deeply. Cellinia is such a pretty contradiction, she silently acknowledges, at once dangerous and safe. Has Mai crept her way into a wolf's blind spot, somehow? Or is she in the beast's plain sight, kept in her mercy while the rest of the world may shudder in fear? Maybe it doesn't really matter, because Mai will end up pushing the boundaries regardless.
Such as now, when she ghosts her lips over one of Cellinia's ears. Nice and clean. Mai kisses along the edge first, the sensation of the fur there wet and soft against her mouth. There's a sliver of impatience in the way she takes her fill like this, as if she's been waiting for such an indulgence since they first climbed into the bath together. If it twitches against her kiss, she won't mind in the slightest, and might find herself smiling mirthfully before teasing her tongue up along starting at the base. Is this not her own manner of a sweet treatment, or something unquestionably sinful? Cellinia ought not to have put such strange ideas into Mai's head with her vague insinuationsâ doesn't she know that this girl has quite the imagination when it suits her? Well, she can certainly ponder on it as Mai takes the tip of Cellinia's sharp ear and nips at it with just her lips, a slight pressure not meant to elicit any pain if she could help it.
Yes, you ought to feel very lucky now, Cellinia. That to Mai, behaving comes second to getting her way when she makes the decision.]
no subject
Date: 2025-05-12 01:43 am (UTC)but arenât they here, too, from said gamble? they hold no childlike light in their eyes, only eyes that have seen more than their share of what the world has done to them. to girls like them who once found themselves able to express their innocence without it feeling more as if it were a death sentence to maintain that wounded part of themselves. she often finds herself waiting for said trap to catch her hand, to grab it and tear into it another wound that would fester long after it heals itself closed. anxiety would always be something that remains, perhaps even their nervous and overly cautious attempts at testing the waters in what both girls denies as being love between them. a budding romance that wonât for their sake turn into something tragic like within the plays that cellinia had often found herself dragged into seeing with her only other childhood friend. nothing could heal those festering wounds.
those wounds which festered nevertheless underneath the surface regardless of seeming closed to those prying eyes around in their lives, that stayed long after they should have healed.
their bodies know the truth that they blind themselves to willingly. telling their hearts that this canât be that sweet innocence theyâve had slipped through their bloodied fingers, both figurative and literal. they resist admitting early what most would know by looking at them, that love bloomed in the most unusual and horrific ways in darkly whispered vows and vows of devotion. not that theyâd understand, they would find themselves appalled at the very notion that a beast is offering herself to this girl. oh, theyâd all call for her head. that desire to drive out a monster among humans while telling her lover that sheâd be gone by the morrow. that none of them would let this wolf hurt her again when the reality had been cellinia has loved her more than any human could without knowing. without realizing, no less, that her heart found its home in her.
whatever shall they do when the wolf is found whisking away this little red riding hood one night? taking her far away, away from those that harmed her and carved into her body those unseen wounds that both wolf and goddess had recognized as being like their own without knowing. itâs innocent in how cellinia had shivered, from sensitive ears, and how she likes the sound of her loverâs voice. atop that altar of theirs, the sheets theyâd ruin again and again, she finds it impossible to not imagine what mai means in her response. the mischief and how it drips from her words, the sinful nature of what her lover would be after from her. her ears betraying her would become a norm between them, were anyone else to dare attempt something so bold theyâd surely find themselves on the ground and injured. that is if they werenât someone she knew, although even her friends were not exempt from cellinia judging them if they attempted this.
she has something on the tip of her tongue, a remark of her own that gets cut off when mai takes hold of her chin and tips her head back enough. honestly, itâs enough to cut off any thoughts she may have had. their eyes lock, the wolfâs own searing in the way they look at her goddess from those promises. at being called out, even, for her own enjoyment of being tied down. restrained beneath her like an obedient beast as this pretty little goddess ate her fill of her body, drinking in deep of her with each flick of her tongue at her very arousal.
that purr of her voice is doing far too much to her and her patience, mai could sound so lovely without trying. she didnât need to see her face to keep those beautiful eyes of hers on maiâs own when she feels the admiration in her gaze. the mix of it and her amorous intent while theyâre having this back and forth. another mistake, or maybe not. theyâve long since stopped counting those, and the sins they are forming now would only bloom in their thorn covered gardens that both goddess and wolf are growing together. she has no shame in it, not in how hearing the rather obvious part of where maiâs mind is taking this.
let her treasure it, she deserves to have that memory keep her warm in their nights apart when the loneliness eats at them. cellinia wouldnât let herself stop thinking about her as promised, that request to ruin and be ruined was only the beginning. itâs only fair she allowed this girl to haunt her forever. to never stop haunting her in her waking moments and when she falls asleep. within her imagination, where she might dream of the things sheâd do to her in sinful reverence and chastely given love.
which is why her eyes are locked back on to her loverâs own hazel ones the moment theyâre uncovered, as if that answers the question enough. she is into that. sheâd cover her loverâs eyes and shield her from the scary things that the wolf would do to others that overstepped their boundaries. that pushed their luck too far while also not understanding what theyâre getting themselves into. yes, she can imagine it too well. the apologies whispered softly and cellinia bloody, reluctant to touch her lover yet doing it anyway from that urge to do so whether she were covered in tainted blood or not. the tainted blood of those foolish monsters, of truly, those bastards that would think they can separate them.)
Weâll have to see some time, wonât we? What you might come up with, the ways that I can apologize in more than only words....
(she murmurs the words, almost like she pictures it herself. the idea being painted out for her, the white-hot desperation of the moment would work plenty of wonders in that. how cellinia would treat her gently, mouth to her skin and lips. fingers working their way along her body, memorizing every tremble and twitch like itâs the first time. marking her beautiful body with teeth and kisses in apologies that could only be given in that desperate sense of longing in not wanting to let go. not of her, her lover and that part of herself sheâd lose forever if mai were to be gone completely from her life. it would be a better use of that mouth of hers, that wolfish tongue and the pretty way she could speak to her words both foreign and not.
who can say where mai is, but one thing is for certain, she is safe. safe in the arms of someone dangerous while cellinia loosens her hold again for her, safe in a contradiction who would sooner keep hidden from her gaze the more frightening sides of herself. she wouldnât object to apologizing with her mouth in whatever other ways her goddess can imagine, and how much the wolf would die without her the longer this goes on between them. cellinia did consider asking if mai wanted her back washed, before anything else that is, whenever she feels her arms around her shoulders.
how it almost felt like mai had been struggling in not acting on this urge in how tight it is, she can almost tell her lover is melting at this soothing scent. cellinia personally uses lavender to help herself relax more. be it at night to sleep or in general with wanting to calm down after a particularly intense night of sleep avoiding her, one of the wolfâs hands moves to rest along maiâs upper back. to trail her fingers along her spine while she takes in as much of celliniaâs scent as she desires. the rain and lavender, the hints of nicotine mixed into it. that buried down mote of ashes, too. what a unique scent, for someone as wild as this girl is.
enough to frighten most, but not her goddess who kisses one of her sharp and fluffy ears. the ear itself stands up straight immediately from surprise, cellinia herself? she hadnât expected that in how she sharply exhales, it seems both of them were having vivid imaginations together this time. unintentional on celliniaâs part at the start, but itâs too easy to get her to chase after her goddess and pretty little red riding hood. shameless in how they blur this line of needing to behave, but neither seems to care as their words drift further away from what had been something chaste and intimate in itself from how they were bathing together. the sigh she lets out is slightly louder once maiâs tongue works its way along the ear sheâs giving her attention to. is it from how sensitive they are? maybe, but it also isnât very surprising mai could a sound from her. for it to not be as soft from her nips of teeth along somewhere so sensitive for wolves.
oh, she canât help that tremble, that shiver from it beneath her. sheâs at her mercy in this tub, trapped beneath her while they both veer into misbehaving. how cute, they lasted this long for her ears to be groomed.)
no subject
Date: 2025-05-13 02:57 pm (UTC)Better to be cursed and corrupted by a love born out of lust, so that it might trick the gaze of those who would berate these two for the sin of falling into one another's arms so readily. All of those naysayers can do as they please, prattle on about how a wolf's heart has no space for love, how a beast shall forever remain a beast, no matter how beautiful her visage nor how diligently she tries to carve a place for herself amongst humans. And they can call for Cellinia's head all they likeâ only too late would they discover that their own heads would be the price paid for attempting to crush a love truer than any of them would ever know. Let them burn in the flames of their own indignation that two hearts found their lonesome matchâ whenever that day shall come. For now, these yearning lovers will bask in their own heat, one of a passion that fits their bodies almost too perfectly together.
'Behaving' was the order given, but now it's devolved into little more than a mere suggestion. Neither of them are silly enough to believe that this wouldn't be the case, especially now that their minds are dancing into rather dangerous territory. Mai deserves the brunt of the blame for it, conjuring up the delicious memory of Cellinia aching and dripping beautifully beneath her eager tongue. She was so good for Mai then, wasn't she? Yes, so good that it spurs the girl to want to test her obedience again, stretch it to its limits, mock her patience until it shatters and pierces her like a thousand blades bathed in pleasure.
Another contradiction, and a curious one, trulyâ how that soothing scent of lavender is, at the same time, provoking a desire that swells with every inhalation that Mai takes. It's not enough to breathe Cellinia in, deep into her lungs, stealing away the notes of rainfall and cinders that linger like a secret yet to be revealed. Noâ how can it be enough, when she had promised Mai to leave her smothered in this unique fragrance, marking her in yet another way? She refuses to accept anything less than being thoroughly haunted by Cellinia, wearing her in every manner she is able to, inside and out.]
Carefulâ it sounds like you're looking forward to a little scolding from me.
[It's a satisfying little fantasy to entertain, isn't it? Dutiful Cellinia, instructing Mai to cover her eyes before she'd turn her beastly nature upon whichever unlucky souls found themselves in her line of sight. And if she didn't trust Mai to not take a peek despite knowing better, the wolf might even do the job herself, restricting her vision while whispering to her lover not to look until she gives the word. All the better, for it would free Mai to cover her ears and drown out the sounds of whatever carnage Cellinia would wreak upon those monsters.
On any normal occasion, Mai would balk at imagining anything that might set her heart racing with stress, fear, and anxiety. Far more safe to retreat in the shadows of the depths where she knows she belongs, where she knows that she can plead ignorance to the dangers that lie in wait for a more daring soul to emerge. Yet, here they are once more, allowing these darker parts of their hearts to guide their imagination into painting a scene almost too ghastly to speak aloud.
How frustrating, if only because Mai recalls too well what had happened the last time she got caught fantasizing with Cellinia about such things. Her body reacts on instinct, and desire hums pleasantly through her veins at the memory of how she had clung to her lover like a lifeline while at the mercy of her fingers, and how she was practically brought to tears as she pleaded for things she really shouldn't have been. And now, they're only adding to that memory, making it fuller with another facet of something all too temptingâ Cellinia would slaughter whoever she needed to in order to keep Mai as her own for the rest of time, but she would murmur sweet apologies to her afterward for subjecting her to the horrifying sight of it all. With reverent kisses and reassuring touches, she'd take her time to erase the fear struck into her from making this vicious wish come true.
If Mai wasn't already taking advantage of her plum position atop Cellinia's lap, she might have let this fantasy tempt her irreversibly into chasing its lascivious promises. Her lover's offer to return the favor and help Mai tidy up can go ahead and perish upon her lips, for the time being. Surely, there will be time for that once Mai has her way with these fluffy earsâ and the rest of Cellinia, if neither of them decide to compose themselves in time. Will the water grow tepid before they finish what they set out to do with this bath? It would be a true shame if it went the way of yesterday's shower, but Mai intends on leaving here cleaner than when she arrivedâ preferably after a bit of fun that might leave her delightfully messy, first.]
Mm, is this fine?
[She breathes, her voice low and soft in between the teasing licks she trails along the edge of that poor, sensitive little ear. That's right, pretty wolfâ sigh and shudder for your goddess, who so graciously pays attention to her loyal devotee, and bestows this veritable honor for playing along with her so well. Won't you melt for her just as she does for you, in these daring touches? She is well aware that she does nothing to keep Cellinia's patience intact, her own well-splintered alreadyâ not that she was famous for her discipline to begin with. They can stop, they certainly still can, at any time, even if it means both of them staring at one another in deep frustration while they hasten the remainder of their bath time. Will they stop, though? Mai is plenty satisfied remaining upon Cellinia's lap like this, her thighs flanking her hips tightly as well, their bodies practically close enough to be one.
And as the tip of her tongue dips into the spaces between Cellinia's piercings, Mai can't help but make the decision for both of themâ stopping would be utterly cruel. At least let her lavish adoration upon her wolf's precious ears. Let her engrave another memory to treasure during the interim.]
Am I still being carefulenough for you, Cellinia?
[Her lover had given her a gentle caution, one that Mai intends on heeding even if she feels the temptation to flirt with the boundaries. More than that, though, Cellinia promised Mai enough kisses to fill her greedy heart to the brim if she treated her ears with care. An incentive to be gentle is more compelling than acting for gentleness' sakeâ oh, that makes her a rather wicked girl, surely. But how can Mai help it, when she's plainly aware that life itself is a game of exchanges? Just as she knows what her lack of efforts earn her, she understands very well what a sincere attempt may yield, as well.
There's no shame, no sense in hiding how into it Mai gets. Her lips nip where and when they please, her tongue darts and flicks at places that earn her especially cute reactions. All the while, she sighs blissfully against Cellinia's ears as she takes her fill, moving to lap at the one she had been neglecting as soon as she satisfies her curiosity with the first one. The sensations are strange of course, unlike any she might have indulged in with other loversâ none of them were wolves, after all. And yet, she has found herself more pleased with this wolf than she had ever been with any other. It might be those wonderful sounds being given so freely to her, those beautiful eyes she cannot see in this position but, oh, how they must look right now! A slight shiver creeps its way up Mai's own spine beneath Cellinia's fingertips, and it only encourages Mai to lick and kiss with greater enthusiasm.
Ah, how truly terrible at behaving she is. They really ought not to bother with any more of these endeavors, if they want to avoid the taste of failure.]
no subject
Date: 2025-05-14 04:04 am (UTC)they fall so easily, how starved are they that they can be so pathetic and such pitiful things? how they can lie to themselves that this means nothing in the heat of lust and passion. but thatâs what makes it so pitiful, so pathetically human of them that theyâd deny what theyâre starved of. she wouldnât let those nameless monsters lay a finger on her lover again if she could help it, sheâd even remind her and her body of the love she carries for her until itâs carved down to her goddesses soul. because look at them, that their bodies fit so perfect, that the heat of their lips stirs something that had been buried down in frigid ice and the darkness of their dreary and agonizing lives. those people would pay, even if it wasnât any time soon. they would pay for their injustice theyâve caused her goddess.
but wasnât she also supposed to behave? it feels impossible, the way she sighs out shaky and unsteady breaths, the need welling up in the pit of her stomach at the sensation of maiâs tongue tracing along an ear. breathing in the scent she carries, the scent that mixes into soothing lavender that been used to give them a pleasant fragrance. something that wasnât only the scent of sex and their own scents mingling. like they intend to become something new entirely in how it covers them, the rain and more than that being the mark that mai belongs to her. that cellinia would mark her until she becomes part of this unending tempest that swells around the wolf, with them both at the eye of the storm together. never parting, never. sheâll haunt her forever, past eternity, if it meant that this girl would belong to her as her goddess.
her goddess in her mockery of the wolfâs patience that she pushes to its limits, like now in how her beloved and pretty little wolf tries in vain to remind herself that sheâs not to misbehave. it wonât be enough, in how much this devotee wants to smother her in this greed theyâve both felt since the start. all it took was the offering of something gentle, something that felt more like love than what mai had ever had from the lovers before cellinia. how does it feel, to not realize how close to paradise they both are while denying themselves such bliss in acceptance by ignoring the answer their hearts know to the questions they ask.
that this goes beyond a night of fun, that theyâre addicted. affection is their drug, love is the kill shot thatâs waiting for them to slip and fall now to pieces. it wonât be any time soon, but eventually. not in how they fixate on this fantasy of theirs, this reality thatâs being crafted carefully. domestic bliss, normalcy, tender affections, the kisses that theyâve never had like this before. how the taste is a delicacy that couldnât be forgotten if cellinia could even try, but they both know she wouldnât from this nudging into her falling. sheâs hopeless, this wolf is so utterly hopeless in how she feels her heart start to beat faster.
she didnât need to answer mai, itâs obvious what the answer is. she did look forward to it, itâs evident in the way that the wolfâs heart could be felt pounding from how their bodies press together. as expected, the wolf would tell her goddess to cover her eyes. sheâd even cover them for her with the promise of apologizing for what would happen next, the death and corpses that would be left. the wolf covered in blood and unfazed by the carnage she wrought upon those stupid bastards who dared to try taking from cellinia her lover. she can be so good for her goddess, so sweet and tender to her while melting into her in all the ways that mai could ever dare dream of.
all while washing away that fear with tender touches, she knows. she knows in how she feels it, the way their hearts are beating together. the way that cellinia remembers how mai held on to her, wanting those vows whispered to her. wanting to hear everything sheâd do to end those foolish monsters. keep her forever, dutiful and knightly while knowing that truly, cellinia is not that noble. though that is also fine, isnât it? they didnât need noble, they didnât even need to hear preachy speeches about justice and whatâs right or wrong. all they needed is more than that in the way cellinia couldnât help herself.
she couldnât help it, she sighs for her. so beautifully. it rings along the bathroom walls in how she starts to moan, heat, itâs unbearable in how that starts to build. her mind is struggling to stay focused on behaving. look at her, mai, isnât she so lovely? those eyes are searing, burning in desire and tormented restraint from the way she stares at her goddess. reverent, but trying not to give in despite the sweetest of temptation before her. it feels as though itâs a losing battle, how could she resist her goddess and her whims?
itâs akin to denying themselves relief, a bigger sin in denying how much she would want to worship her body. perhaps theyâd still have time to bathe, to finish that much when mai gets her fill. sheâll ask later what her lover would like, if sheâd want to feel those hands of hers along her back in more chaste worship. that maybe, theyâd be fine to make a mess again of themselves after behaving for this long. but at the same time, her wolf wants to make the most of it too, how tormented she must feel. that she wants everything in how greedy sheâs feeling, the time together and the intimacy between their bodies.)
Mai....
(oh, she sounds so needy saying her goddesses name like this in response to the way she speaks so lowly and softly. how adorable of her, theyâre so sensitive she can hardly hold herself together in this tender teasing. the attention given as her wolf melts for her so wonderfully. pinned beneath her, their bodies almost intertwined into becoming one. listen to her, pretty goddess, how sheâs struggling to not misbehave for you. how sheâs enduring your love and your attention given to her, it must be a delectable treat for you. hearing the sounds she makes, the way she shudders beneath her from pleasure.
her pierced ear stands up straight at the attention itâs getting, trembling from how maiâs tongue licks along sensitive spaces between the loop piercings in it. sheâs clinging to her lover, her goddess, both arms around her whilst her beloved devotee breathes out these needy sighs. as mai decided, sheâs starting to break to pieces. her patience is shattering. the wolf breathes out warm breath along her loverâs neck from how theyâre positioned now. tickling it and biting down in futility, the urge to decorate this goddess of hers in more marks of worship.)
Voglio baciarti....
(a slip of languages again. with or without it being understood, itâs an admission in itself. her loverâs touch is thorough. that way that her goddess shivered at her fingers trailing along her spine is doing things to this wolf. they truly are hopeless girls, unable to behave when they needed to. not wanting to behave in the end, despite themselves. how funny, they lasted this long and found themselves slipping into their desires again. her other ear trembles next when maiâs tongue and lips works itâs way along it. the nips of teeth against sensitive flesh and fur, the warmth of her tongue, itâs killing her.
itâs making her want to carry her out of this tub and forget about a bath for a little longer. dear goddess, you really do ruin her. itâs only fair that sheâs so good for you in exchange for your affections and attention.)
no subject
Date: 2025-05-14 11:11 pm (UTC)Oh, but how much does that dignity truly count for you in the end, sweet wolf? For Mai can feel it between the wet flesh of their bodies pressed together, the beat of Cellinia's heart quickening as she teases her without a lick of shame. Whether or not she'll ever make this admission out loud, this wolf really is hopeless, letting herself grow eager at the simple suggestion of a reprimanding, at the chance to make things right by her lover with apologies and pleas for forgiveness. But Mai might already have an inkling that her lover likes to entertain some odd urges, from their fun last night. Not that she minds one single bitâ and if Cellinia keeps being this good to her, she might find that Mai will keep indulging her.
They're both addicted after all, to this poisonous affection. It goes without saying that it'll spell their inevitable ruin, the most delectable of deaths that would usher them past the threshold of a paradise long-forbidden to them before now. From the outside, it looks every bit as twisted and marred as it ought to beâ a pair of lovers ruined by the world who deemed them unfit for something as pure as love. Those fools will never be able to see the truth of it, though, that because this love of theirs is so terribly impure, it'll grip them violently until it breaks the two of them into pieces that they shall only ever be able to repair together, becoming irrevocably one.
No matterâ right now, they can pretend that they come close to this beautifully ruinous end. Right now, they can feel as if they are indeed one from how their racing hearts beat in time, an erratic rhythm that can only be satisfying to lovers every bit as spoiled and ignoble as they've been reduced to by the very circumstances that have molded them to be one another's refuge.
Oh, there it is. That's what Mai wantsâ how, upon her lover's tempting lips, a drawn-out sigh bleeds into a breathy moan. Good, good, for that means that her patience is nearing its breaking point, just as Mai desires. It aggravates her in the best ways, how arousing such a sound is, the way it causes Mai to shift her body against Cellinia's in a futile attempt to press herself even closer. There's no pointâ they'd need to transcend this barrier of flesh to become any more enmeshed with each other. So, Mai shall have to make do with this, a blooming frustration that they can't simply melt into each other whenever she wills it. In truth, she had felt the shadows of this feeling the night before, when they worshipped one another upon their altar of ruin. It wasn't enough to feel Cellinia, to hear her, nor to taste herâ and she would soon have to surrender to the truth that it might never be enough.
She wants more, this insatiable girl, she wants more because she's wise now to the fact that, so long as she demands it of Cellinia, it is hers. How generous her wolf is, how forgiving of Mai's relentless appetite for such delights. But that generosity belies a greed all its own, Mai can tell, barely-concealed in the strained breaths she feels fanning dangerously against her neck. She wants more of that, too, another bite to finds its company amongst the rest of the marks left earlier by her lover. Surely there must be a patch or two of untouched flesh begging to be decorated, even if they might venture into places where her uniform might not completely hide. Oh, wellâ Cellinia can have herself another reason to apologize, if she feels daring enough. The urge is mutual, and Mai is so close to have it fulfilled that it sets her nerves alight.
And when she hears her name pronounced so needily in response to the lapping given by her merciless tongue, she feels a jolt of excitement roll up her spine, wracking her body with a deep shudder that she doesn't bother to suppress. A delighted moan of her own is muffled by her lips nipping once more at the base of one sweetly-trembling ear. Only a second passes before she sighs fully, pleasurably against it, a breathy 'fuckâŠ' uttered in a haze that is half-mindless at how gorgeous her name sounds tumbling from Cellinia's desperate lips.
Of course, the confession she makes after leaves room for a fair dose of curiosity. Mai obviously doesn't understand those words, but if there's something that Cellinia wants to say to her, ask of her, do to her, then it'd only be kind to drag it out of her, no? Her wolf doesn't have the privilege of keeping secrets, not in this position.]
Mm⊠what was that?
[Already missing the soft sensation against her tongue, Mai pulls back just enough to get a good look at Cellinia's face, freeing one of her arms to take her chin and hold her in place while she drinks in the handsome beauty beneath her. Oh, she does look so lovely, absolutely tormented like this, the struggle bright in those searing amber eyes. The way she gazes up at Mai is at once fiery and fragile, as if it would take very little to destroy the final, flimsy restraints keeping her from surrendering to the temptation boldly set before her. She looks as if she'd set her lover's body aflame once the last shackles are loosened for good. At the same time, though, the endearing desperation to behave and be good for her still vies for power in Cellinia's conflicted eyes. You'll give in, darling wolf, you'll give in because isn't that reward enough after being frustrated like this? And when Mai at last asks for your hands to wash along her back, perhaps there will be a few more of those pretty marks to treat tenderly in the process.
They can both have their way, but Mai will have hers first. Damp fingers dance over Cellinia's lips as Mai smiles down at her pridefully.]
You said you'd teach me, remember? Don't tell me you've changed your mind about it.
[It's not true, she knows. All she has to do is ask, and Cellinia will tell her what those pretty slips of her mother tongue mean. Still, the irony isn't lost on Maiâ she is a rather terrible student, infamously so. Anyone tasked with teaching her anything needs the patience of a saint and a hefty amount of respect from Mai in order to get anywhere with her. Does it amount to much, in the grand scheme of things? Mai has always been a rather poor investment, she knows, no matter how much her teacher tries to look after her.
Yet with Cellinia, it's completely different. What she has to teach Mai, the lessons that this girl might learn from playing the diligent student whenever the mood strikes, aren't part of some altruistic mission for society's sake. They wouldn't even enrich Mai in ways that might make her family hold her in higher esteem. No, these lessons are purely selfish in their nature, only meant to spoil an already-rotten heart.
She's painfully aware that she'll miss it, come tomorrow when she's back to learning about all of the horrifying ways she'd have to put her life on the line with her paltry talent. Is it so wrong to prefer lessons in how to survive after putting one's heart on the line in the face of loveâ the most terrifying entity?]
no subject
Date: 2025-05-15 02:13 am (UTC)sheâs always an oddity, with or without having some manner of dignity. she didnât always feel need for shame, for lying to herself about how she did find the idea exciting. of being scolded gently for scaring her lover, of the thoughts she held about treating her so gently in exchange for that fright. the love given to her and promises that her darling wolf would not dare to drive away her goddess. her pretty goddess who sheâs been so good for. not only in her mannerisms, but how she allows her goddesses indulgences without a word against them. she never would be able to resist that urge to indulge, not even to go against her little red riding hoods own whims that sheâs had.
poisonous and ruinous affection, the impurity of a love with teeth that threatens inch by inch to tear them to pieces. the minute they break is the minute that theyâd never again return to what once had been their lives before. itâs already begun, the way it grips and holds on to a pair of battered and jaded hearts. paradise, no, that paradise would never belong to them. what cellinia crafts unwittingly is a paradise forged from the ashes and the abyss that threatens them. the sea that desires to drag them down, the storm that awaits them that always would be part of the wolf. theyâd never see it, not even the truth, but they would complete this joining of theirs when the time comes. how perfect their hearts fit, how the agony and suffering is quiet while the cracks in their bodies from unhealed wounds fills in their union.
she did almost feel as though they were one, one bond and heart in how fast their hearts thrum together. her pulse fluttering erratically in this dance again, that desire to be in what they deem to be home in a lover who knows without knowing. without realizing. refugee, safety, home. finding it in an unlikely place almost seems par for the course for what a pair of girls that were ruined by the world has to go through. all cellinia can say is that itâs far too right, for something so sinful.
her patience is being beaten down, her sighs turning into breathy moans. torment and anguish, torture of the most tender kind. the sensation of their bodies coming closer together in a demand for them to melt away into one being, celliniaâs back is pressed against the end of the tub from how close they are. a single push could do anything, drag her under while they lose themselves beneath the bath water. until they find themselves gasping for air, or perhaps almost willing the water to make them into being reborn in this sinful want to be one. even cellinia feels it, the way she feels aroused the more her lover focuses on those sensitive and cute ears. because sheâs come to the realization herself slowly, this isnât enough. like on their altar and the mess they made of her bed, it isnât enough.
insatiable girls, itâll make them be more ruined, drunk on the feeling of love as it starts to course through them. as long as her lover wants it, cellinia would give it. as long as her goddess wants her, she would. she needs to hear her, to touch you so thoroughly, lovely goddess. canât you feel it in the way she torments herself by not misbehaving, despite how much she desires to? she wants to leave her those marks, she wants to carve them into her body and soul. forget if someone sees them, that mind of hers has labeled her lover as belonging to her. this goddess, they can ask and more, but theyâd never understand the love she would give her. strained breaths, the sounds of her moans against flesh both marked and unmarked.
if her goddess wills it, they can stare in envy. that someone was that attentive and never wanted to let go of her, she wouldnât even if it kills her. sends her off to the hellfire that awaits them early, while promising to keep them together in what would be the paradise which would solely be theirs. she can feel that way mai shudders, the moan against her ear and itâs soft fur. cellinia could even hear how she utters that solitary word, it lights her nerves on fire again in desire and want. sheâs desperate. sheâd even have bit her lover by now were it not for the torture she puts herself through by resisting, out of fear of her goddess stopping her attention.
or maybe from fear of disappointing her after promising that sheâd behave when itâs clearer that her goddess no longer desires that. she whines out a needy sound when mai pauses, to take hold of her chin and make her lock eyes with her again. not that cellinia needed the encouragement, her eyes would have been on her without it. on those hazel eyes sheâs staring at while mai smiles like she knows something. pride, smug almost. almost as though sheâs gotten a better treat in her torture of her wolf when she brings it up.
that cellinia had told her that sheâd teach her, she tries to resist the urge. to bite it down and fight when her eyes show it. those beautiful amber eyes that shine in her torment, how she wants to behave for her goddess as long as she deems it. fragile, but threatening to let go of that hunger. the fire that would burn them to pieces, just like it did during their worship on the altar they made themselves. sheâs so close to giving in to you, sweet goddess. she longs for it against that urge to keep her word. enough that she canât take her eyes off her, while that heat thrums in her body.
her lips brushing against maiâs fingers as they dance across them, her hand taking hold of her wrist to keep it there. the wolf doesnât say it, not yet. what she does is, she takes that hand and glides her lips along her fingers, down to her palm. the intense look in those amber eyes is strong, wanting. how hungry she is, how she tried to not misbehave until her lover decided she wants more of her. theyâre both too insatiable for their own good, but thatâs fine. this greed is only a part of their love that goddess and devotee offers alone, greed and sinful love. lust that engulfs them as the demand keeps ringing through their heads, their hearts.
that they want more, that they need more. the sound of maiâs voice, her lips, her body, she wants it. she needs to have it, though cellinia hasnât realized just how much she needs it. not even how much she wants her.)
I want to kiss you.
(she hisses it out against maiâs palm, the heat of her breath there and hot. the offered lessons that the wolf mentioned is well in place, even if she had uttered those words as a confession from how much she desired it. she does desire that, heavily. to kiss her, to give her greedy soul so many of them until she finds herself satisfied, if ever. they both know the answer to that. mai wouldnât ever be satisfied. cellinia? cellinia never would be, either. theyâd lose themselves in greed and love.
they didnât need anything more than that in how celliniaâs lips kiss the wrist of her goddess, amber eyes burning in intensity and staring at hazel. wonât you let her? all it would take is that one kiss, to tip her over. to watch her bend and give in to you, dear goddess.)
I need to kiss you so badly, it aches.
no subject
Date: 2025-05-15 08:22 pm (UTC)One could easily say that the heavenly bliss that they unknowingly pursue hides within the virtue of patience, which Cellinia tries so pitifully to upkeep despite her body aching to succumb to the desires practically eating her alive. If it feels as if she'd sooner give herself to the voracious flames of hellfire than relinquish her hold of her lover, then it can only be because the ecstasy of paradise vows to burn just as brightly, and ignite her with an ardor that would put the punishing flames of hell to shame.
It's so very fortunate for the both of them that, despite a traditional paradise rewarding the virtuous with everlasting happiness, the battle-won heaven that Cellinia forges for their love instead bestows blessings upon the truly shameless. How lucky they areâ and yet, this wolf still works so hard to keep her yearning at bay. No matter how divested of shame she might think herself to be, she is still halted by the fear of brazenly giving in and shattering a promise that they both knew they didn't have it in them to keep. It's obvious, and beautifully so, that Cellinia has committed herself to doing whatever Mai asks of her, even if it's the best and worst kind of torture to deny herself along the way.
As wicked as Mai has proven herself to be, taunting Cellinia with nearly impossible challenges while hinting at the most gratifying prizes for completing them, there shall be no true disappointment whenever her lover finds that she's unable to endure for much longer. You've held on quite remarkably, Cellinia, far longer than Mai could have if the task had been presented to her, instead. That needy whine says it all, confesses without words that she's nearly fed up with abstaining for the sake of her goddess' approval and praise. The fingers curling around her wrist do the same, keeping Mai in place while Cellinia trails her lips down into the curve of her palm. Until, at last, she answers Mai's question hotly against her skin, her eyes as tormented as the strain in her voice as she confesses her truth.
Ahâ so that's what she had meant with that pretty foreign tongue. There is no surprise in Mai's expression at it, it isn't the first time she's been confronted with Cellinia's hunger to satiate the craving of her lips. Rather, she seems just as pleased as one would expect, hearing that the wait to taste her through kisses is practically tearing her lover apart. Mai tries to inject a bit of sympathy into the look she gives Cellinia, but it ends up appearing more as if she pities her for her suffering, instead.
'Why?'â her eyes seem to askâ 'Why don't you just come and take one for yourself?'
It's such a simple solution that would ease Cellinia's anguish. Mai would do it, herselfâ she'd declare how annoying it is to be troubled by these urges before taking as many kisses as she wanted, without even waiting for a reply. But in this respect, they're not at all the same, and Mai secretly adores Cellinia for it.]
So, what's stopping you? [Then, her eyes grow wider with an exciting realization, a familiar glimmer of mischief making itself home within them.] Is it me?
[Of course it is, of course it's Mai herself who has the power over how this dance of theirs proceeds. Because of Cellinia, she has the rare opportunity to conduct the tune, command the very steps they'd take, how slowly or quickly they might move together. She's the one who keeps her lover's desires in check, and it is her word, and hers alone, that decides if Cellinia's wish can come true. All she craves is a kissâ that should be so simple to give, or simple to take, were her wolf not beholden to her own personal code of respect and manners.
She regards Cellinia with a gaze that is just as searing as the one she gives to Mai, though the desperation evident in this needy wolf might hide itself a bit more cleverly within the haughty, molten hazel. The only thing hotter than the heat of Cellinia's splendid eyes are her lips against Mai's palm, claiming a makeshift kiss upon damp skin that likely still wears the faintest notes of lavender from their dutiful efforts to make this bath worthwhile, earlier. Mai knows where they'd rather be, and the tip of her tongue peeks out to swipe against her bottom lip in obvious anticipation.]
You said you'd kiss me if I was gentle with you.
[Nestled within this musing is not only a reminder of the task entrusted to her by Cellinia, but also a lifeline for her yearning lover. For a moment, the tables turn. This wolf had asked this of Mai, one of the few requests she had made in her dealings with a girl who is more than happy to take, if given the choice. And Mai had made good on her word, no? She had handled those lovely ears with all of the gentleness she could muster as she tidied them up beneath a calming lather. And even as she let herself get carried away, Mai still likes to believe that she gave Cellinia more pleasure than pain.
Though⊠with how tormented she looks, watching Mai with a white-hot intensity while her lips press against her wrist, perhaps she did contribute heavily to this ache she so plainly laments.
Well. There's an easy remedy for that, too. And Mai beams as if nothing delights her more than to offer it in this moment.]
Go aheadâ tell me how good I was to you. And thenâŠ
[And thenâ oh, there's no need to think too hard about the reward awaiting her if she gives Mai what she demands. You won't have to content yourself with any more mere kisses against her teasing hands, Cellinia.]
I can make that ache of yours go far away.
[Now, that which lurks beneath her benevolence truly rears its head. Such a sinful smile she wears as she murmurs these words, never tearing her eyes away from Cellinia's as she does. This promise is replete with obvious suggestion. Mai would pluck from her starved wolf the pang of needing to feel their lips upon one another'sâ and she'd take care of any other ache that might be plaguing Cellinia, as well. Anywhere this agony might be buried, Mai will find it, draw it from her flesh, and swallow it with the greed that it deserves.
What an offer, no? Only a fool would deny themselves such an easy liberation from their self-inflicted torture. And you're no fool, Cellinia, but even now, you're waiting for permission. Well, here it isâ one last little exchange before Mai sets you free to satiate your burning greed, and her own as well, even when you both know the futility of taking on such an endeavor.]
no subject
Date: 2025-05-16 12:26 am (UTC)itâs clear, there was no way theyâd have behaved for long. not in how she looks at mai, not in how mai also has a mischievous twinkle light up at the realization she has control for their dance. their stage, whatever she wants to call it. especially not in how cellinia sees the way that she almost pities her for this self-imposed torture. they know why she does it, they know that she wants her so badly that it can be called another sin in the pile. she worships a goddess instead of a god that had turned his back on her that day she came of age. there is no god that she wants, she wants a goddess who she looks at with searing eyes and deep hunger that is barely restrained. fragile, but not. there are cracks, her body is pressed firm beneath maiâs own as her heart pounds in her chest. hammering like it wants to go to her hands in a wish for it to be held and treated gently. she wants that, the tender touch and love that theyâve long since resigned themselves to never having.
shameless, dreadfully shameless and brazen sinners, theyâre so hopeless. falling in love without daring to consider the consequences, all from the first kiss and affection that they found themselves being offered. how it stirs the molten heat and greed within them to the point itâs torture to consider what would be their days apart. the dreadful thought of parting when they know they do have to carry on their respective lives. but that wasnât enough, that isnât enough to satisfy the greed in how it demands. how it aches to have satisfaction as mai speaks. she uses the words of the wolf and muses, while the wolf trails calloused fingertips against her wrist. her lips pressed to the curve of her palm, while both goddess and wolf do not look away from one another.
she has so many thoughts, all of them less than chaste. the cracks in restraint, the desire to break apart as would be a reward befitting the frustration that is nestled within them. they crave it, they need it so badly. that delight her lover has in knowing she caused this, how she has the power in her hands to make or break this between them. that the tempo is in her hands as they move together in their steps, that the wolf is willing to give her control, says plenty from her being unwilling to be ensnared by any hunter willing. but they werenât her. they werenât, not little red riding hood who stepped into the wolfâs den with offerings of poisoned affection.
of dark vows and promises that she can decide if they would ever be called upon in how deathly serious the wolf is about killing those who dare to try taking her. about destroying those who had dared to hurt her in her short life. sheâs so tormented in how her reasonable side suggests she should resist, but the rest isnât listening. no, the rest canât stand it any longer. not in what she wants and aches for. this goddess knows as well as cellinia that she canât go against her word and her own want to hear it from her lips. that praise sheâs earned. that affection she desires, while one hides how needy she feels and how much she craves it and the other couldnât even bring herself to do it. this time. more like she might never be able to hide that way she stares at her goddess and this dear goddess is not ever going to leave her den without her body being reminded of the love that a beast can only give.
as expected, that was the push needed. the offering of a salve for this ache, the neediness in them both. the way that they both had waited in their futility for one another to crack in their restraint. itâs only fair that the goddess had caused her beloved devotee to break apart first to obtain her coveted reward. that reward she wants most. they didnât have it in them to resist, despite the way that cellinia could try for the sake of mai to do it until mai desired to misbehave and tempt her. that temptation is strong, itâs all that she had to do. offer in their sinful desires and how sinful her loverâs smile is, to make it go far away as they lose themselves in tender affections. sinful delights that only they would revel in as being like love when that day comes between them.)
You did good, so good for me, Mai.
(pitiful, hopeless. she sounds so needy, her voice strains as her restraint fades and she takes the promised kiss. she kisses her with such urgency, such desire and hunger. how much did she torture herself? it must have been difficult, an arduous task that had already been doomed from the start. there is no changing that, they both knew where this would go, despite the promises of behaving from the wolf. they wouldnât have made it through the whole bath, and itâs only a fruitless endeavor to consider any subsequent baths together. but it would be so lonely. not having her goddess with her, maybe even for the goddess to not have her ever devoted wolf within the reach of those soft hands. those hands that which touch upon unhealed wounds and scars like theyâre the balm she needed for their constant ache.
but she doesnât stop, she doesnât stop kissing her, she doesnât even for a second. each brief parting of their lips is met with another, greedy and pitiful little wolf, she canât get enough of her lips in particular. that way she licked her own bottom lip had already driven her more to the brink of insanity in how celliniaâs own rough hands hold on to her goddess. clinging to her, like the lifeline she is for her and her sanity. she canât help it. not how she feels the flare of arousal and desire burning through her veins. searing into her body with prominent heat that might never fade, itâd only continuously be fanned by the desire of a goddess.)
So, so good. How your hands drive me insane when I tried for you to not act upon the urge, I wanted to touch you. I wanted to melt into you so badly, fuck, I might be losing it more....
(she is losing it more, they both know it. how she utters those searing words between each breathless kiss she takes, the water sloshes in how cellinia sits upright to hold mai against her body. tight, like it isnât enough. the flesh is a prison and a barrier that blocks them from what they truly want in melting down to their very being to become one. itâs almost pathetic in how badly they ache for that with someone they barely know. but can they be blamed? nobody has made them feel like this before. not a pair of fucked up and lost girls, strays that became the home of one another.
what must she do? so that she may keep her forever, she wanted nothing more than to act upon those words. she can almost taste it in how close it feels, but she knows they arenât there. they might not ever be for quite some time. it doesnât, however, stop cellinia from thinking it and wanting to make it real. against her better judgment, she wants to make it real, while the baser parts of her instincts flare again at the idea. how could she not want to? she fits so perfectly against the wolfâs body, the wolf even had been covering every inch of her goddess in her scent like it was already something meant for her.
it also doesnât help the way her mind thinks it. mine, mine, mine, it rings out with each kiss, with cellinia breathlessly moaning into them. feeding those lovely notes to her goddesses own lips like a delectable treat for her efforts in breaking her to pieces for daring to go against her new desire to satisfy her greed again. how cute of her to have thought to try, it didnât work out the way she wanted. theyâll be fortunate if the bath water is still warm when the wolf and goddess gets their fill of love.
of intimacy that theyâre craving in this unending greed that they both feel so strongly. itâs too good, too good for them, but so right in how it burns and how they love it. how they want it, this sinful need and urgency in hot and heavy kisses. sighs and whimpers, their hands unable to find their fill of their bodies. this is what love for girls like them tastes like, no matter how they deny it. this is what love can feel like, what they crave.
heated murmurs of praise for mai, with every kiss (âso perfect, how you fit against me. your taste is something i never want to leave me.â) given to her lover. all while underneath remains the unmentioned word that cellinia thinks and feels. mine. all hers, sheâd never let anyone else have her. sheâs hers. all hers, only hers, but she refrains from biting the mark she wants to leave her to make it more true. too soon, too fast. even if they did go out of order, itâs far too soon for her to leave something as precious as a mating bite.)
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