(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.)
[If this may be their only chance to surrender both the worst and best parts of themselves to another soul who would understand these scars, then let them surrender wholeheartedlyâ consequences be damned. Cravings like theirs can only be satiated through discarding every rule and punishment doled out in the cages that raised them. Such obedient little girls they were, then, unaware that the best of destinies was waiting for them to create it, themselves. Redemption at last arrives for these sinners, who tremble in each other's arms in anticipation of forfeiting their bodies to the blissful release promised by a kiss. Though it shall only be a momentary reprieve before the torment of separation fills in the spaces left behind, let these two teach each other, learn from each other, just how thoroughly their frustrations can be rewarded.
Later, much later, can they ponder over the challenges that this love might pose to them, the longer they carry on. How enduring is a love built by nervous hands that hardly know a thing about it? How fulfilling is an affection created from promises soaked in blood and violence, rather than an unadulterated kindness that would far better nurture two hearts who seek out one another? Every rational thought that might rise from the shadows of their curiously-begotten passions can certainly demand an answer. Think about it, think clearly about itâ why not let this become but another thrill to shelve amongst their memories, a pretty golden glint tucked between the drab and painful gray? But the biggest folly is believing that these girls could ever choose rationality when they'd much rather bathe themselves entirely in the golden light of this treasure unearthed in each other's embrace.
They'll leave one another with parting gifts of love, even if it might not yet wear such a name just yet. Cellinia is more than welcome to impress beautiful reminders of a beast's love upon her goddess' body. But in turn, Mai shall not disappear from her wolf's den without cradling that desperately beating heart and submerging it so deeply in her attentive adoration that it might never yearn for air again. The way that Cellinia watches her before taking her reward, with a gaze so intense that she doubts that any amount of kisses could quench it, only affirms to Mai that this is the right path for them. No, it's the only path, open and stretched long in front of them, where they will cease to refuse their longing for each other's touch any further.
Cellinia may be the first to crack and give in at the temptations so brazenly offered to her, but Mai isn't immune to the breathtaking sensation of relief once she's given both her due praise and the most pining of kisses. If anyone is pitiful here, it's most certainly Mai, who whimpers needily as soon as her ears are graced with the sound of Cellinia revering her so ardently. Oh, how she cherishes it, the anguished desperation drenching every word Cellinia speaks aloud before succumbing to yet another pressing of their hungry lips together. No, Mai can't get enough, either, and welcomes the way her greedy wolf clings to her, shifting their positions slightly in the same vain attempt Mai had made not long before, to melt into the other irreversibly. It doesn't matter, it doesn't matter that they can't get any closer than this, and Mai can't do anything other than mirror Cellinia's eagerness, wrapping her legs around her waist with the added space and tightening her arms about her shoulders. Even then, it's not enough, an agony all its own, but Mai can ignore it in favor of how splendidly dizzy she feels right now, soaked in praise and never-ending kisses.
Cellinia's adoration takes center stage, her goddess so generously casting the spotlight upon her, now, while staking her place as a rapt audience of one. Mai dares not interrupt her, nor cut short her words with any pointless thing she might say in return. This is all she wants, the only thing, and if she has to hold her tongue and offer herself up to satiate Cellinia's ravenous lips, then she'll do itâ she'll be so good for her again, if this will keep the flood of praise spilling over her parched heart.
It's still so new, the sudden rush of satisfaction that floods her when she's indulged so readily by her lover. That when she asks for something, it's given without question or admonishment, a back-handed remark or a reason to feel guilty for even making a request in the first place. Mai had swallowed this bitterness repeatedly throughout her dismal youth, learning not to expect a thing from the people who were supposed to love herâ not even the barest sliver of attention, for she knows that it would have made her parents only too happy if they could ignore their failures and still imagine their own lives bright and full of promise. Once, she would have given nearly anything for even a word of love from them, any acknowledgment that her existence was worth the effort. A pointless wish, of course. They left her a void to patch up however she could, and discarded her along with a disappointment she quietly resigned herself to carrying for the rest of her life.
Of course, starved as she is for praise, for recognition at how she can be good and useful when she puts her mind to it, Mai utterly melts at Cellinia's impassioned words as if she has been touched by the sun itself. Oh, her hopeless lover who bears a name that evokes the image of a cold, silvery moon, harnesses the light she steals from the sun far better than daylight's grandest star. It doesn't even feel worth it for Mai to try to maintain her haughty superiority in this moment, not when it feels so liberating to finally, finally have everything that her pathetic little heart has been pleading for.]
Mm-hmmâ
[She feeds an anxious hum of approval against Cellinia's lips as they kiss again, another traded amongst the countless they've given like this. Mai agrees, they really do fit perfectly together, molded against each other with how tightly Cellinia holds onto to her, their hearts singing for one another in their frenzied rhythms. For a moment, she almost considers apologizing for eventually having to leave her lover alone without her taste, but the urgency beckons her to abandon this sentimentality in favor of giving Cellinia exactly what she had promisedâ more, more, more kisses, enough to make her forget she had ever ached for them to begin with. Oh, but that's not all her lover wants⊠]
Touch me, then, Cellinia.
[After another break in their kisses, Mai sighs her name out hopelessly, as if it were a wish that she was afraid she'd lose the chance to make forever.]
Do itâ do it, or I'll just go and make you wait again.
[Rightâ Cellinia would be the one to endure another bout of Mai's sweet torture. As if to prove her intent, she looses her hold around her lover's shoulders, keeping one hand firm around the back of her neck, while the other snakes down between their bodies. With the same care she boasted earlier, but no less of an appetite, Mai cups her palm over the fullness of Cellinia's breast, feeling thoroughly pleased at how her fingertips sink into the soft and pliant flesh, catching the droplets of water as they trickle down. She leans in to kiss her, all while rubbing her thumb slowly over the the stiffening bud of her nipple. See? Nothing is stopping Cellinia from touching Mai, as she so badly wishes to. Nothing, save for Cellinia herself.]
Then you'll really lose it.
[Even breathing out this threat causes Mai to grin against Cellinia's lips before claiming them in another open-mouthed kiss. She slips her tongue along her precious wolf's, hasty and slick in her movements, and uncaring of how messy they're becoming. After all, what better place to truly make a mess of one another than right here? And Mai, so painfully turned on nowâ all thanks to her handsome and eager loverâ wants so badly to ruin Cellinia again. Not a single thought that passes through her mind of how exactly she'd love to do it, is the least bit innocent.
When she speaks next, her voice is burdened by its own low and needy whine, but the intent couldn't be any more resolute.]
Cellinia, I wanna make you lose it for meâŠ
[A mistake, Cellinia, to confess your troubles oh so honestlyâ did you really not think that Mai wouldn't use it to her advantage?]
(itâs better this way. her arms around her lover, the needy sounds they make for one another is only added fuel to the fire in them. her hands against her back, lips hungry and thirsty. their lifeline exists only in their arms, how starved they both are in the desperation and near frantic desire. rational thoughts were something to be ignored, they didnât need them. their indulgence and falling to pieces stems from the irrational. rationality is only an annoyance, a frustration, they didnât need that when something better was in front of them. golden warmth, a body that feels good against their own while playing ignorant on what else this can mean without understanding the way love has a grasp on them. it isnât as easy as films make it seem, not even how books can make it feel in their pages. the sensation is new, not everything can be explained how some novel characters might do it. or that way that actors in plays do, playwrights with their own ideas and inspirations. this is an emotion that isnât so easy to figure out, perhaps, but nobody said that love was simple like that.
some may say it also comes in many forms, each fitting the pair involved while leaving them longing for more. underneath the violence and blood promised, there is a sense of kindness. sweetness. darkly given vows are followed by tender touches, tender kisses, and tender words shared that go beyond the shadows, engulfing them in promises meant to destroy those that her lover deemed necessary. the nameless monsters will pay. but not any time soon, not today, and not even tomorrow. just eventually if thatâs the path she wants to take with those promises that were whispered to her on their altar comprised of sinful desire. this is what would heal them in a sense, the festering wounds that might never fade will feel like theyâve come close to closing. their dreary worlds didnât matter any longer since the start, they didnât need such a world any longer with mundane delights and the normalcy of two girls who had long given up on the notion of anything more than they had.
it is the right path, their only path. no single kisses would satiate the sense of yearning within, no amount of praise showered would satisfy the greed of her love who wants to hear more of it on the tongue of her ever devoted wolf. this wolf that murmurs on her lips the sweetest of words to soothe the anxiety she feels, this wolf who moans lowly when a soft hand reaches for one of her breasts and receives permission to touch her more. her nipple is stiffening further as mai starts to swipe her thumb along it.
sentimentality can wait until another time, a time when their lips arenât focused more on memorizing a taste that their bodies are addicted to. like their lives depended on it in slick and messy brushes of their tongues together. open mouth kisses met with a hunger when cellinia finds herself almost pushed back against the tub again. she tastes so lovely, mai does. from each lick of their tongues together, the sound of their frantically beating hearts longing for the otherâs hands to touch them. give them all the love and attention theyâve craved. her heart would never want another to lavish it in the attention her goddess offers, the same way that cellinia thinks to herself that mai might not want someone else to touch her how the wolf does with tender hands.
the threat. her loverâs resolution to make her beloved devotee lose her mind, does set off something. it makes her feel hotter. run hotter at the thought mai might want to keep ruining her, the same way cellinia wants to haunt her forever. her lips part, if only barely from the kiss to breathe while one hand of hers trails along maiâs spine again. she remembered it from earlier, the other finds itself cupping a breast similarly to what mai did to her a few moments ago. her hand is still rough, but her touch is gentle in how she cups and kneads soft flesh. fingers gently squeezing into her supple and tender breast in between her thumb and forefinger teasing the stiffened bud there.
sheâd take it in her mouth if it wasnât preoccupied by other things, such as maiâs lips when she kisses her again. not caring theyâre devolving into graceless and messy things, not caring that their bath has completely derailed in how painfully aroused they both are. the bath water will be ruined in their filth and grow tepid by the time they finish, their scents will mingle again in their natural scents and lavender mixed with sex. sex that seems a bit more common than what one would deem suitable for a single night. the wolf didnât want a single night, she starts to think, she wants more than one night in which this tender feeling might engulf her. this bliss and itâs odd nature where they found themselves following a set rhythm already, not just the part where they can barely keep their hands off one another. that didnât matter. what mattered more is how good it might feel to stay, to not let her go if she didnât want to leave one day and wanted more to carry on in more blissful days.
days that their pasts would have no place in them. because theyâre so hopeless, mai might be more pitiful, but cellinia? sheâs far more hopeless. she must be, in how she feeds her lover those pretty moans when their lips are together. the wolf has to sound desperately needy, every time the kiss breaks, she comes back for more of her lips from the briefest of breaks. her breathing is harsh, unsteady. sheâs thinking about it, about how mai wants to make her lose it for her. about how her lover sounded at hearing her honesty, how she twists it in desire that the two of them feel strongly about one another.)
How would you? How would you make me lose it more?
(she starts to ask, breaking the kiss finally for longer than the briefest of seconds to trail her lips down to her neck. the flick of her hot tongue along skin both marked and not, what patches of it that she didnât is given special attention. a kiss, her suckling along it with soothing licks of her tongue to make up for it.)
Tell me what youâre thinking, while I mark more of your skin. While I want to keep claiming you, your body. Keep being good for me, making those pretty sounds while you tell me.
(the wolf breathes it out slowly, hot breath along her loverâs neck then trailing down to her collar. her devoted wolf and knight, she kisses along the marks she left. teeth scraping into them like she intends to renew them so soon. almost make them into something semi-permanent in how she decorates her body with a beastâs own love.
she wants to hear everything. she wants to, while her tongue soothes tender bites. she has to, while their world isnât fixated on the outside. on what is their usual, what would be before they had made this choice of theirs to carry on into something that they would be reborn by. because cellinia wants to hear it, her loverâs voice. the things that sheâd do, that she craves to do and craves for her devoted wolf to do. does she want her to haunt her so badly, how much does she want to hear the wolf say that mai is hers in hushed whispers and love unwittingly exchanged?
because she can do all of that, whisper it all and tell her against her lips or the parts of her skin she kisses that sheâs hers. she even does mouth it at one point after finding another patch of unmarked flesh, she mouths the words, âmineâ against it. not speaking it, but thinking it as they follow down the start of this path to ruin and losing themselves further. they wonât be the same, except this time it is their choice that led into the path they take. not someone else making it for them or forcing it upon them.
not someone taking away what would have been the luxury of innocence that they once had, instead they take this path. this route that her goddess had set them on by her desperate declaration and neediness. that she wants her wolf to lose it. then if mai wants that, cellinia wants one thing and one thing alone from what would be their future. their forever on this altar they make themselves and grow in their garden together.
that she never wants to stop haunting her, that she wants to ruin mai and take her with her into this path. never letting go, never letting her leave the den, sheâd make it into a home for them both.)
[It's almost too easy to forget that time insists on passing while they lose themselves in a more shameless manner of play together. They have forgotten that the grains of sand in their hourglass continue to spill, despite how cleverly they might have stretched their night together into another afternoon. Or, perhaps, it could be that it is time itself that compels them to succumb even more hastily to an addiction that had practically leapt up out of the blue for them during the scant hours that they had spent together. And because they aren't given the luxury of time to fully comprehend the treacherous emotion that will tear life as they know it to irreparable shreds, they shall call this anything but 'love.'
It's possible that Mai might've gotten a glimpse of it in it's mind-numbing beauty beneath the silvery light of the moon, held firmly in the reverent gaze of one who offered her true freedom in exchange for possessing her completely. Yes, that must have been love, announcing to Mai that it does indeed exist in this most curious of unions, before disappearing with the dawn and daring her to chase it. Is she even sure that she wants to pursue it? Would it even allow her to catch it? It could be another taunt, another goal forever out of reach to her grasping hands, her cruel mind will have her believe. Even if it's right here, here and unmoving in her very hands at this moment, sighing and breathy beneath her hungry touch, melting deliciously with every passionate kiss exchanged.
Yes, Mai has love in her foolish, clumsy grasp and doesn't even know it. She doesn't know that it tastes like Cellinia's lips against her own, that it feels like their hands caressing and teasing the sensitive parts of their bodies, that it sounds like those aching moans humming against Mai's tongue as Cellinia feeds them into every feverish kiss they share. It hides in the way that this wolf ghosts her calloused fingers up Mai's spine again, a silent promise to haunt her in the shudders that this touch elicits. She doesn't know, this silly girl, that she has something so brilliant in her hands that it blinds her to its true nature. And she'll wonder why, as she tries to fit it erroneously into a compartment of lust, why she lies awake at night, unsatisfied and lonely and missing her lover.
Because as long as it's lust, she can tell herself that nothing could be easier. But as long as she finds herself circling back for more, she'll discover that the best parts of her are in the fragments she leaves in the wake of pleasure from their nights spent together. And one day, before she knows it, she'll find herself more at home in this den than anywhere else, where the chaste affections shared in the daylight fulfill her heart just as splendidly as the love they'll make beneath the moon's careful watch.
Is it Mai's fault that she wants to leave behind a reason to return? Her lack of talent extends, without a doubt, to the grace she can give to any potential friend or lover. Being kind, being sweet, or even being patientâ it is territory that's hardly familiar to her. It would even be more apt to say that she elects to be ignorant of it, turning her nose up at such weakness because she knows that it is merely another invitation to be crushed again. She knows too well how people will treat a vulnerable little flower, ripping apart its fragile petals for amusement, because what fight can something so flimsy put up? So she's done it, herself, torn up anything lovely that might have blossomed from tenderness, and replaced it all with an overgrowth of thorns to keep everyone away.
In some respects, she wishes she had those pretty blooms to give away, plucking them from herself to present to Cellinia. She could keep them in a little vase, with each petal that withers and falls a countdown to when they can meet again, to build a secret devotion beneath another intoxicating bout of kisses. How romantic, and yet how foreign to Mai all the same. But she doesn't have any flowers to give. This garden of theirs is far from flourishing still, the seeds barely sown as they impatiently await the rainfall to come. All she has to leave behind are her desert-borne thorns and spines, tipped with her poisonous yearning and buried deeply within her lover's scarred flesh. And maybe, once Cellinia is finished drawing out the last few, she'll decide that she loves the sting of Mai's affection and find herself circling back for more of it, too.
Even now, it seems as if she wishes for Mai to paint her a rather amorous picture of what rewards might be in store if they continued on like this, pushing each other to their limits and seeing what exactly it'd take to ensure that this addiction lasts forever. Fineâ Mai can do it. She really does want to keep being good for Cellinia. How mean of her devoted wolf to use her neediness against her like this!]
Haâ you wanna hear it? You'd rather I tell you, than show you?
[Of course she does, the masochist. It's another form of self-inflicted torture for the wolf, and Mai would call her out for it in words, were her breathy laugh not already mocking enough.]
Easyâ I'd never let you touch me, ever again.
[Though, this answer is only easy because Cellinia has only made it all too obvious that she never seems to get her fill of touching Mai. Not even moments ago was she lamenting at how, in her attempts to sit still while those pretty ears fell prey to her lover's wicked lips, it took everything in her not to let her hands wander where they longed to. It's easy because it's a lieâ because Cellinia's fingers teasing at her breast, her touch slow along the grooves of her spine, are sensations for which Mai would sooner die than never feel again. With a small, blissful whine, Mai cranes her neck enough to give Cellinia room to explore as she pleases.]
You liked it enough last night, didn't you?
[She taunts, knowing it was wrecking Cellinia to have her hands out of commission, despite being the one to suggest it to begin with. Mai would torment her until Cellinia pleaded with her oh so prettily again, completely unaware that this little game would only serve to feed her desire to be loved and wanted, a deeper and more pitiful longing that hides beneath the cloak of lust as it beckons Mai to satiate it.]
R-Right, I'dâ
[A small gasp punctuates her thought, the sensation of Cellinia's lips finding yet another space upon her neck to suckle another mark drawing her attention away to melt into the pleasure. From this position, with her lover's head dipped to occupy her lips at Mai's neck and collarbone, it leaves those fluffy ears open once again for another round of sweet agony.]
I'd make you tell me all of the ways you wish you could touch me, andâŠ
[She breathes out sharply, shakily, before taking the damp fur between her lips for a firm nipping, humming a low groan as she then gives it a soft suckle of her own. Mai releases that ear just enough to let her tongue trail over where her lips once played, and finishes her terrible threat.]
And then, I'd do it myself, right in front of you.
[Just the thought of it makes her swell with giddiness, the amusement such that she can't resist laughing hotly against Cellinia's ear. Yes, she'd make her beautiful wolf's fantasies come true, but by her own hand. That would do it, that would make Cellinia vow to never be good for Mai again, wouldn't it? Even if she's so beautiful when she behaves⊠]
Wouldn't even let you have a taste, afterâ not even if you were crying for it.
[And oh, how she would love to bring her to that point. What would it take? Would Mai have to reduce herself to tears in the throes of pleasure before her devoted wolf, in order to really make her lover lose her mind? A splendid idea, an excellent exercise in imagination, one she would certainly have to remember for whenever they find themselves longing again, and with ample time for such a cruel adventure.]
(time ticks on by, but cellinia? she stopped paying it attention, anything that wasnât her lover seems to be far from her mind in their carefully crafted reality. a reality they made themselves for their lonely and agonizing hearts. this is what they deemed to be reality for their moments alone, a sense of it that causes them to be drawn to one another. thatâs only part of the sweet feeling they share. their new addiction is a struggle to let go of, the taste of bliss and that emotion they would never name. love. oh, love would surely rip them to pieces by those thorns embedded within their bodies. there is no arguing about that, if only theyâd realize that none of this is normal for someone with the intent of leaving after a single night. ignorance is bliss, but that bliss can bring its own pain to those unfortunate enough to try lying to themselves or fooling themselves on the truth. a truth which drives them to seek more with thirst filled lips and hungering eyes. tender hands which brush along fair skin, teeth which make claims of their bodies.
the painfully rich and aching moans fed to her lips, the way her teeth sinks into maiâs skin. she leaves her such pretty marks of love, things that say that she doesnât belong to someone else in how thoroughly she decorates her body. her tongue traces along the fresh love bite, soothing it and tasting the mix of bathwater and maiâs skin. isnât she beautiful? the kind of handsome beauty that plenty would long to have in their hands. even with her being a wolf, sheâs the biggest prize anyone could dream of having. all theirs. only theirs theyâd beg, but she never once allowed herself to be tied down. a true embodiment of the moon, while her fingertips trail along her loverâs spine, feeling the way that she shivers against it like itâs never enough for that alone.
not even for how her hand teases her breast, kneading it and rolling her nipple with the one she can take in hand from their closeness. she wishes they can melt, that it wasnât an impossible wish for them to become one while their bodies crave to have that reverent touch that can heal them. itâs an offering given to a goddess, an answer to a prayer by her most devoted who touches her so tenderly. donât you want more of it, greedy goddess? that way she looks at you with those searing eyes, how she could worship you forever with her kiss. the moon itself may embrace them as its own, taking their fledgling love into its own hands.
arousal and lust burns thickly inside of her, hungrily. those words, they set off something again. from the way that mai catches her ears, the soft fur of it between her lips and her laughter. the low sound of her groan, like she found her new favorite thing to play with along the body of this wolf. those ears. the one ear that she messed with, trembles from the attention she grants it. wouldnât being shown be better? perhaps, but the imagination can work wonders in the pictures that can be painted while cellinia feels that heat. the burning urge within her that tells her, her lover is a liar. she knows. she knows from how she shudders, sighs, and even moans for her that mai wouldnât deny herself that touch. that sheâd die before she was without this touch of rain in their mutual garden in this desert called affection that they desire. her heart couldnât take that, not even the idea of being without that poison running through their veins. weakness, vulnerability, itâs a death sentence for girls like them.
but they donât resist the allure of it, not in how they cling and let go. threaten to melt into one being as the cracks within their hearts want to be filled. the missing piece of their souls, the missing part of them as they sigh out so softly in pleasure. this is love. love is the way their bodies fit perfectly, love is how they dread the idea of parting. it even is how they hold tenderly their beating hearts in their own hands, with a want to never let go of them. their eyes are only on them. itâs irresistible, the temptations held out to their nervous hands that are comprised of things that are normally too sweet. the clumsy beginnings of love mixing into their lust and want for more in how both goddess and beloved wolf feel wanted.
feel something more than their agony, their wounds that festered so deep that nobody could heal them. because of that, cellinia knows what she wants to say. what it is that she wishes to do, in response to her desire to torture her in this sweet agony again.)
What if I break free?
(she murmurs hotly against her neck, her lips brushing up against the skin of it deliberately between each word while she trails her kiss upward. slow, an agonizing slowness while those amber eyes are on maiâs lovely face. never leaving it once, not even for a moment.)
What if I did that from my restraints, what if I touched you with such ravenous desire and kissed you down against the mattress?
(she shifts, closer, almost like one move could pull them underneath the bathwater where they might near drown. perhaps even be baptized like those who found themselves desiring rebirth, her slow kiss pauses before her loverâs lips and her eyes hold a wild look to them. a look that promises something not held back by humanity and mercy if pushed to that extent in how cellinia finds it impossible to not keep going. to keep bending to this temptation and prodding of her restraint, her patience, which can be easily frayed by her goddess deciding to do such a thing to her. is this what she wanted to hear?
is it? the way she speaks so lowly, so full of hunger in her? itâs only fair to give her goddess what it is that sheâs wanting. thatâs what the wolf can do with these hands of hers, while torturing herself in a desire for a kiss that she might crave. all the kisses that she craves, if she were honest with herself in how she looks at mai.)
What if I touched you until your body could only ever want my hands on it? Until all it could ever remember is me, in how my lips kiss down along your breasts, your stomach, and your thighs.
(kiss her, you know you want to, cellinia. itâs obvious she does in how their lips come closer, a near kiss over each word. so close, so very close to taking it. but she doesnât, not yet. because it did stir within her that animal mai so lovingly brings out of this devotee of hers. with all those words that she desires, all the things that her little red riding hood could ever want of the big bad wolf. because she doesnât refrain from it, not even from the generosity she extends to her and how cellinia wants her so badly. she shows it in her touch even now, with the threat of them going under in the metaphorical waters of rebirth that is this bathtub. is this what she wants? to drown them in it as they abandon their rationality?
who knows, cellinia only knows that she meets it with her own abandoning of common sense to go deeper. to fall further while they surrender to the feeling they play ignorant about. sheâll make the sweetest of love to her, sheâll even decorate her body in every part of her that her lips touch. thatâs what cellinia wants to do, thatâs what she craves more than anything in this little scenario theyâre imagining together.)
Maybe even until all you might think about is my lips against yours, the way I look at you while covering you in my scent. My voice never leaving your mind as I whisper to you these affection filled words, the vows I say as I fuck you so tenderly again and again.
(she would. she knows that she would, cellinia couldnât help herself. not in how sheâd refuse to stop touching her, sheâd be so good for her that mai could never stop wanting her while misbehaving as she pleases when pressed the right way. all because her goddess desires to test the limits of her handsome wolfâs patience, how long sheâd restrain herself from desiring more. it was torture to not touch her, to withhold and sit there while mai did as she pleased after tying her wrists to her headboard. and then again, when she messed with her ears until she got what it was she desired most from the wolf.
her breaking to pieces with her being unable to keep that promise to behave, her even vowing to give her more. to disobey and touch mai for however long she wishes, all throughout the night where they send the moon those devoted prayers. the altar they ruin, itâd carry their sins, as they could only ever desire one other woman. showering her in those sinful cravings that theyâd never stop having. theyâd never stop, cellinia would never stop feeling so greedy and insatiable. who cares if it might be wrong, if it might even be seen as a sin above all others to worship a girl who had been fucked up by the world the same way that she had? because if it is, then she never wants to be right or never stop seeing her something holy.
something that she devotes her lips to and the way she promises all of these tender vows, the darkly given ones offering blood and death to the monsters in her life. this is what love between girls like them is, what affection and desire could ever be. they are in love, but refuse to see it. refuse to acknowledge it even with the lonely feeling that comes from thinking about their parting.
their minds ignore it, but their hearts could not. oh, you stupid girls, you hopeless and jaded girls. all youâre doing is falling harder. there would be no going back, they only donât know it just yet.)
Would you like that? Dreaming of me, the sight of me haunting you at every waking hour and every time you close your eyes?
[Such a maddening beastâ what is Mai to do with you, Cellinia? It's as though her threats no longer bite the way they ought to, as if you can see them for how empty they truly are beneath her arrogance. In a way, though, it excites her. Something electric sparks through her veins at the wild look Cellinia gives her as her hands still indulge her with their intimate caresses. This is what really gets Mai going, isn't it? Pressing, pressing, and never letting up until her target bites back once they break for her, unable to take any more of her torment. And she's had a fair amount of fun in this way, albeit brief distractions before the flightiness of boredom would draw her back behind its curtains once more. And, in the end, none of them deserve to even think they could hold a candle to this ultimate prizeâ the most beautiful wolf who marks Mai with love even as she loses her mind for this truly terrible girl. No, all of the others are nothing in comparison, hardly even the dimmest of stars that Cellinia drowns out easily enough in the light with which she has illuminated Mai's never-ending night.
Were she not absolutely engrossed in the debauched words that spill from her lover's lips, Mai would have quieted her straight away with an impatient kiss. From anyone else, these passionate threats would have rang hollow, a pointless gesture to fluff up a partner's ego while delivering something wholly lackluster in the end. From anyone else, these marks of almost-ownership would have been left behind so carelessly that Mai would have suffered the annoyance of mustering up even the barest shred of pride at wearing them. There's no way she would ever whimper for them as sweetly as she does for Cellinia as she takes care of each new bite she decorates Mai with, nor would they ever have the privilege of hearing those soft sighs of approval when her wolf's handiwork is complete.
But Mai's desire is a depthless pitâ once a goddess has basked in pure, enamored worship, once she has tasted the sweet indulgence of being so utterly revered, she simply can't return to obscurity, to the complete nothingness that awaits her once she's far from the eyes of her most ardent devotee. She wants more of it, darling wolf, and how could she not, when you've spoiled her rotten with your wordless offerings? Pray to her, won't you, Cellinia? Pray in the way that only you can, and marvel at the rewards you shall reap in return for it.
In that ever-charming way of hers, Cellinia makes plain that which she desires as repayment for her worship. What she wishes for is Mai's approval of her beastly nature that is urged to break free whenever her goddess' taunting goes a step too far. It hungers and burns feverishly within her, waiting impatiently under the veneer of a merciful humanity carefully worn to blend in with the ever-cautious masses. She wants Mai to see it, to marvel at it, this unrestrained side of Cellinia that would carve a thousand beautiful reminders of her touch and kiss as she claims her lover in more and more bouts of sweet lovemaking. The wolf, of course, terms it more bluntlyâ that she'd fuck Mai as often as she pleases until the girl is irrevocably haunted and obsessed with her. How animalistic of her, how beastly, but Mai would expect nothing less, despite how prettily she offers such a fate. In fact, she welcomes it, from the spark of arousal that dares to ignite something ferocious in Mai, herself. Their bodies crave one another's with a need that puts all others to shameâ a desire that shall, indeed, one day turn into a love that will redeem them both, but this need is also borne of an echo to the same lamentation that they had only ever believed to be for their own personal grieving.
You've found each other, pitiful lovers, and dance around promises to never be apart. 'Break free,' certainly, but only because you know that you will always return to bury yourself in deeper.
Mai groans softly, blissfully as Cellinia kisses her way up the column of her neck. Within every press of her lips is a teasing delight, one that hints at how perfect this mouth might feel anywhere else, everywhere else. And when her lips are but millimeters from Mai's, it's a cruel taunt all its own. So, the beast can still restrain herself, even after making her grand, lustful declarations? Mai hates that she loves it, hates that she herself is tempted to become the beast, here, and take what she wants rather than playing to the coyness of this little challenge. She almost does, claim the kiss that Cellinia deliberately holds herself back from, before she's posed that final question.
After filling her mind with titillating imagery, her lover asks herâ would she like it, these sinful promises to ruin her body with a deluge of pleasure? Does she even need to ask? That frustrated expression twisting Mai's features into something impatiently beautiful ought to speak for itself.]
Maybe I would. Maybe that's exactly what I'd like, Cellinia.
[Though her words try to carry a certain lightness to them in attempt to maintain an easy nonchalance, the way that Mai's body faintly shivers in excitement is her ultimate traitor. Because she can imagine it oh so clearly, you knowâ and the warmth of the water pales in comparison to the heat pooling in her belly at merely imagining all of the places where Cellinia promises to feast her lips. Every nerve in her body is terrorizing her, nearly raging at her to demand that her lover take her right then and there. And this vexing wolf can only be all too cognizant of how she gets to be the one to shatter Mai's resolve, like this.]
Is that what you want to hear, you monster?
[Her words drip with the prettiest of poisons, this little epithet far from the insult it might have been, any other time. There's nothing but a hunger-drenched affection that promises Cellinia that this side of the beast is one that Mai won't shrink away from facing. Yes, this is the true nature of a wolf, luring girls like her in with a handsome visage and carnal vows. And once they're caught in her grasp, they'll wonder why they had ever thought of escaping.]
Look at you, threatening to make a meal out of me like thatâ see? You've already lost it, no matter how much you think you'd be able to get the better of me.
[But it's only fair to admit that just from words aloneâ these cruelly delicious promises to smother every inch of Mai's soft skin in kissesâ that Mai is losing it, too.]
What, would it make you happy? Sending me back there after you've had your fill, knowing that maybeâ [ and she draws out that last word, emphasizing that she won't claim the certainty of it, even if they both know the truth ] âmaybe, I'd rather be here, with you?
[And she hardly misses a beat: ]
All yours?
[Doesn't that sound so heart-meltingly appealing, pretty wolf? All yours, just as you crave her to be.]
But, you know, I don't think you'd be able to sleep at night. All you'd imagine is poor me, right? Crying my eyes out because you'd make sure nothing could ever compare.
[She sneers, though the troublesome suggestion is as much as slight to Mai as it is to Cellinia. Laid out like this, she all but affirms that she'd be left nearly empty after being spoiled so lovingly beneath Cellinia's attention.]
Yeahâ you'd want me to miss you. Let's seeâŠ
[Oh, she has something up her sleeve. Her eyes look into Cellinia's with a flicker of their usual impishness before she decides to soften her expression, carefully, into something decidedly more yearning. From their respective places, her hands trail wetly over Cellinia's skin as they move to cup her face as they have before. How beautiful, as if she was made to be touched by Mai, and Mai alone. Another shift in positions, and surely the water can swallow them entirely if they so desired. Not yet, not yet. Not until Mai proves to her wolf that she, too, can utter words replete with affection. She brings their lips close again, and watches her through a lidded gaze, speaks to her in a low, seductive hush.]
Cellinia, I miss you. I miss you so much, I don't think I can last another day without you. I'd do anything to feel you again, whatever you want, whatever it takes⊠please? The ache is just too much for me to handleâŠ
[Convincing enough? The honeyed words almost drown her sharp edges in their thick sweetness, and the plea in her eyes is well-trained enough to fool a softer heart. Her wolf, she can tell, is better than that, smarter than anyone else that Mai might've played her games withâ had they entertained her for long enough, anyway. She's proud of herself for this little display, even if it comes at the expense of dredging up a pathetic neediness from the recesses of her heart.
At last, their lips meet. A swift kiss, light, like a small prize claimed for a victory she isn't sure is fully her own. They can share it, a single kiss, while so many more wait for their boldness to overwhelm the final fragments of reason. Yet there is little that is reasonable about Mai's self-satisfaction in this moment. Is that so terrible? This exchange of theirs has her rather enthusiastic about the ways that they plan on ruining each other.]
Butâ that's never going to happen. Because I'm not letting you break free.
[Not from whatever restraints they'll be playing with the next time they want to test one another's limitsâ but is that the full extent of Mai's declaration? Another meaning lurks beneath her words, the shadow of them kissing the surface but not quite discernible. Can Mai construct something unbreakable to keep Cellinia in, forever?]
No, I don't think I'll ever let you escape, Cellinia.
[You can count on this this threatâ no, this vow of Mai's own, that she doesn't hesitate for a moment to make. She'll hold onto that generously-given leash like her life depends on it.]
(oh, sheâs making such terrible mistakes in flirting with this beast. but that changes little in how the wild look to her eyes darkens. the feeling of their bodies near melting together is one thing that stirs those baser instincts, like something for mai to grasp in her hands around despite such dangers in it. sheâs a pleasant treat for a girl that could ever want it. what dangerous desires, darkly spoken words and carnal delights. threats of hunger that only ever seems to be growing in a desire to feast. this is true danger, what she involves herself in by flirting with a wolf who carries in her name the moon itself. who worships reverently her and her body, her lips that kiss her along her skin. her tongue, which soothes teeth marks and bruises that are left in her tender affections. a touch of poison filled affection while daring to give her such a tender embrace. this girl has the grandest of prizes for any poor soul that could ever succeed in having her. in having her body and her heart, that was the impossible reality in which many found themselves giving up on by their own decision. because they found her to be too wild, too willing to escape the cage which was slowly being built for her enclosure. that anyone could ever get so close to her is the bigger sign that they could have a chance if they donât frighten her away.
if they donât cause her to leave them forever, abandoning what she saw fit and living this lonely life she has full of mundane days and desires. dreams that teeter back and forth between nightmares or something empty like the void which grasps at her mind to grant a reprieve in dreamless slumber. but theyâre not here for this, not even as she feels that snarl of a growl rumbling in her throat at being provoked. taunted into her desire to do more than only give those pretty words and near marks of ownership along the body of a goddess. sheâs ravenous, sheâs more than willing to kiss her goddess in feverishly desired worship, all of it is for you, mai. the prayers she offers on the altar as her hands touch you, her mouth which feels perfect on your body. this is all for her, this is all in worship. her offering given, her offering taken before the dim moonlight which enveloped them the previous night together.
provocation is met with that burning ache, the desire to show how much of a wild animal it is that mai flirts with. the way her voice gets when she speaks, labeling her affectionately as a monster. hungering in a desire to see how sheâd make this girl into her meal and never once let go of her as promised. isnât this what you wanted, mai? the poison in her words, the affection of it and low purr of seduction while she grabs hold of her cheeks. taking her time, even, to feel along inked and blemished skin that carries so many scars of her own. like they were indeed made for one another. her hands on celliniaâs body and celliniaâs lips, which carve a mark to her very soul in those sweet threats of tender violence. what a liar she is. what pathetic girls they both are in how they dance around these promises, unwittingly made promises and vows that threaten to drag them into the metaphorical waters. reborn anew in baptismal love, lust, and desire that theyâve ignored together alone. she notices that shiver, the way mai speaks those honey eyed words like seduction.
like something more than that, she coaxes it out. she demands it, the words she wants to hear more than anything in promises of ruin while they never stop this indulgence that would grab them by the throat and choke them. send them to their end in rain, tempest, and desert alone. cellinia says nothing, but that look in her eye suggests plenty of what sheâs feeling about maiâs show. the way she offers needy promises and desires to be touched thoroughly by her lover, who she acts coy with. that swift kiss does nothing to calm the raging beast underneath her veins, the fire of arousal and demands that she stopped playing ignorant to what it is she craves more than ever to say. if this girl was going to push her this far, why not be the wolf sheâs meant to be? why not make the claim directly? surely you can, cellinia, you already swore youâd never let her go so tenderly in those darkly given vows.
vows similar to the one her lover makes about never letting go of her darling wolf, her beautiful and handsome beast that can be tipped over the edge at any time by the hands of a goddess. which is what drives her, this hunger that darkens in her eyes and how those slits seem to shrink from her restraint being tested so heavily. if she wants it, then fine. sheâll say it. sheâll say it as a beast would, a monster as her lover has affectionately labeled her when cellinia stares at this goddess who so willingly prods at instincts that most humans would run far away from for their own good.)
Then Iâll say it as a monster instead of as a human.
(she brought this on herself, how she growls out the words. a deep rumble in her throat, low and prominent. was this what you want, mai? reverent staring, a beast in your hands with all her scars and ink covered skin? whatever shall you do, whenever these words, this word alone, wonât be those pretty words of affection? no, itâd be an abandoning of reason for something that goes against it. the wolf knows it, she must know it, in how she longs to keep her in her den and never let her out again. never letting her be taken by those nameless monsters that mai often found haunting her.
so, she growls again, the purr of it echoing when she comes closer. their lips mere centimeters apart, their bodies threatening to be dragged under by the bathwater. she didnât care, she didnât care if it might drown them. thereâs only one thing sheâd grant her for this cheekiness that mai displays.)
Mine.
(cellinia breathes it out harshly, her lips greedily claiming maiâs own the moment she utters it, a simple word âmineâ. a single word, but itâs something powerful in itself. something with meaning. this isnât a claim made lightly, there was no room for argument in how the word escapes her lips. the depth of that desire is something thick, greedy, and wanting. itâs especially telling in that way this kiss so ravenous from the wolf has its own demand. she promised, she swore, sheâd never leave this lonesome goddess unblemished. that promise of ruinous intentions that she vowed is not one that could be taken back, even if cellinia or mai dared to try.
there is no return from love. not even from the vows, the darkly uttered words of blood promised if her goddess wills it. this is true worship, this is true intimacy in how it demands their bodies. this touch and this love that theyâd always play ignorant to, it didnât matter that they refused to accept that love had come from them. all they needed was something close to it in their denial, the single truth of it in how cellinia whispers again so hotly for her lover âmineâ in between impassioned kisses and breathless sighs.
theyâre close to going under, but she cares little about that. not in how those searing eyes her goddess adores stares, so wild and unrestrained. it was a mercy she held back from allowing this part of herself to slip out, itâs only not now that mai had decided in her greed that she demands it. what a greedy goddess, wanting this fearsome side of her handsome wolf to come out for her. to coax it into being rightfully within her hands. another side that belonged to this goddess.
but it wouldnât teach her to stop, no, this greedy goddess would only want more of her. the feverish claim, the way she kisses her like she never had been keen on sharing or letting her go from this den. if she intends to lock away a wild beast, then cellinia wonât let her do that without taking her goddess with her in how their near submerged bodies are pressed together. one pull would drag them under, a single push if either dares to take it until they rise again for air from this baptism and vows theyâve traded.
sheâs still a considerate beast, though, in how cellinia allows for mai to choose. drown them both in this kiss before the inevitable, where they lose themselves again, or to coax her into leaning back into the tub again. to take what they both are demanding in how their blood runs hotter, how arousal burns stronger than ever, in what promises of ruin theyâre giving to one another.)
Mine....
(she whines out, growls it like a present for her lover in how breathless she sounds. cellinia must be losing it, if thatâs all she can say. if all she can do is give into baser instincts while her hands, wet and everything, reaches for her loverâs thighs. she might even intend to lift her up like this, carry her out of the tub for more convenience than it could offer them and the insatiable greed that theyâve felt. )
All mine.
(is this what you wanted, mai? if it wasnât, then youâve found yourself obtaining it. sheâll never stop saying it and granting her this special privilege, this right of being claimed directly from her lips. she wonât stop. greedy goddess, sheâs only ever going to take her body in these reverent touches and marks of worship.
this is her vow, in exchange for her own promise to never let her escape.
a vow which is driven by a single urge, a single word, to remind her if she is going to provoke the beast before her that she only knows and believes one thing: sheâs hers. only hers, nothing will stop her from having her.)
[How fitting, that these two have twisted something as mundane as a shared bath first into a threat of ruinous flirtationsâ and then into the certain promise of something akin to a baptism, with how close they are to slipping beneath the surface. When did these waters become so sacred? When did the treachery of their lust give way to that which might cleanse them both of everything they might have been before finding one another within Fate's peculiar amusement? For this baptism demands that they shed every last inch of their old skins, those that bear the fingerprints of everyone and everything that had ever impressed such misery upon them. None of it can remain, none of it can follow them into these sacrosanct waters, not if this promise of love is to ever come to fruition. And, in its own strange manner, there is hardly anything innocent about this rebirth waiting to welcome themâ they shall drown in their own sins, the ones they recognize in the vows made willingly to one another, and rise anew from these waters bound to each other far more irreversibly than they might have ever been to the hallowed prestige that had shaped them.
Within this lonely den now fashioned into an altar of its own, this goddess reaches out her greedy hands to claim every last prayer she harvests from her most devoted beast, body and soul. Mai touches her like she is the one who desires to make her own claims of ownership. She holds Celliniaâ hands dripping holy water along her cheeks like a veritable blessingâ holds her as if she dares her to shy away from a worship that might dash away her nightmares for good. Oh, how Mai knows, she knows that these prayerful kisses are all for her. That there is the antidote to her heart's suffering in the poison of their strange affection for one another. And she knows that her own absolution lies in the fiery passions that only a provoked beast can wield in her blood-drenched claws.
Doesn't she do it so well, Cellinia? Ignite the more baser side of you, the one that compels you to do away with everything polite and reasonable, everything sweet and respectable? For a girl who shrinks at the terrifying entities taunting her outside of these walls, cruelly demanding that she beholds them with her unlucky eyes, Mai seems to have acquired a unique taste for the perilous hunger in Cellinia's wild gaze, impatient to devour her. Is this all it takes, simply recognizing the monster that she might have preferred to keep at bay for the sake of not frightening away her lovely goddess?
Goodâ show it all to her, Cellinia. Embrace that monster, yes, leave behind your humanity for a spell. When have humans ever done any good, after all? Funny, that Mai feels safer in the arms of a wolf than in the shadows of her own kinsmen, that she might even feel more at peace submerged beneath the tepid waters of this bath than forgotten in the familiar halls of a grand estate. Despite how badly that fearful little voice in the back of her mind might want to cling to her always, refusing to be washed away forever in this curious ritual of devotion, the heat between her and Cellinia burns with such a ferocity that it nearly snuffs out whatever might be crying out to Mai in self-preservation.
'No,' it begs her, 'no, don't look at her, don't look, she really is a monsterâ'
But Mai doesn't heed this voice, not this time, and not ever again, if she can help it. She doesn't close her eyes, not when Cellinia practically looms over her, now, so close to kissing her, and thenâ and then, she says it. 'Mine'. Mai feels as though, for the briefest of moments, her heart stops, the air in her lungs frozen despite the fire of their mutual desire being fanned recklessly when Cellinia finally closes the scant distance between them with a ravenous kiss. This is it, the greed of a beast who has been pushed too far, taunted and prodded to her limits despite her best efforts to behave. Because, that is what Mai wished for, isn't it? For them to bare their more unsightly sides to one another, daring the other to look away, close their eyes because the view is just too horrid to withstand?
They kiss as if it is the last one they might share, desperate and deep and messy. Mai can taste it, the gravity of this single word, the utter possession of it as Cellinia repeats it breathlessly whenever they do part for air. There truly is no return from love, or from whatever love may disguise itself as to sneak past their quickly-crumbling walls.]
Oh, yeah?
[Yet no matter how incredulous Mai tries to sound, her eyes are bright and eager at hearing how hotly her lover repeats this spell of possession over her. Perhaps she only has herself to blame, for daring to suggest that she would want to be so thoroughly owned and kept by her handsome and dangerous wolf. If so, then why not happily take the blame? Why not bask in the glory of being so desired that Cellinia can hardly speak anything else? That voice in Mai's head might even dare to call herself pathetic, for feeling so elated that someone might want to claim her, and gladly so. Years of rejection and loathing and neglect have ruined her, and the wounds of these crimes are weeping with joy that she might actually be worthy of being needed so ardently. She doesn't careâ let her be pathetic, let her drown in her own misery if it means that she can be reborn as something perfect, and for Cellinia's keeping.]
We'll see about that.
[Her heart practically slams against her ribcage, as if clamoring for Cellinia to hear how feverishly she wishes to belong to her, and only her, until the end of time. How awful, how terrible, that they can't simply melt into one anotherâ it would be so easy for Cellinia to possess every last bit of her if they could. As it is now, Mai is only too painfully aware of how separate they are, where her own body ends and Cellinia's begins. Her thighs squeeze reflexively against the sides of her lover's waist, the nerves beneath her flesh aching when she feels those strong hands steadying upon them. She wouldn't mind, not in the slightest, to have even more pretty bruises there to admire later on. Because that's what it means, no? To be all hers⊠]
We'll see just how far you'll go for me.
[It scares her, in the best of ways, the thought of what Cellinia wouldn't do to keep Mai within her den, within her armsâ no, her very heart. Much like the previous night, she finds her mind clouded with the dark ecstasy of imagining the price to be paid for this wolf to lay claim to the goddess she has chosen to dedicate this altar of devotion to. Slowly, slowly, the idea might grow on her, shedding the fear of what it might mean for Mai to give her that word. For now, though, she's content to use it as fuel to feed her own wicked urges.]
Kiss meâ kiss me more. Kiss me like I'm yours.
[Likewise, Mai's own voice takes on a needy whine of its own as she makes her own plea. She pulls Cellinia closer against her, and she's nearly enveloped in the water first. The smile gracing her lips is uncaring of if they dip beneath the surface completely, together. Follow her, Cellinia, and she'll drag you to her depths. Kiss her, claim her, and she'll haunt your every second once she has drowned for your beastly greed. She has made her choice, and isn't it such a beautiful sight to behold?]
(thoughts of this being a simple bath have been brushed aside, thereâs another demand in how something that should have been calm, relaxing, is ignored in favor of a desire to ruin. this baptism of ruin is only the beginning, whatever shall happen is only a part of their destined end. innocence is nothing, not in the face of this love that would only fuel them and remake them into something more. fate could only watch as they rewrite what it demands proper compensation for the consequences of their actions in being born and the gravest of sins in slaying oneâs own blood. she had slain them, if a beast freed herself from the shackles of blood and family, then could anything stop her from taking this girl? her vows hold promise, truth. there is not a soul that would stop her from having this pretty goddess, this lovely goddess who offers provocation and desire to make her own claim to ownership. but they both know, taming someone wild isnât easy. sheâs still an animal, still capable of bearing those frightening fangs on anyone foolish enough to forget that. hallowed prestige or not, she would show them a reminder in teeth and claw. the waters would only serve to rebirth her into something more, something else that could perhaps believe she isnât as much of a sinner as the world made her out to be.
that their sins are not what makes them, what makes them is here, in front of them. a goddess who greedily takes the prayers offered by her beloved devoteeâs lips while holding her fair skinned cheeks in her hands. the water which drips down a blessing, their bodies close and demanding to melt them together. searing heat, hungry lips, an addiction to an affection that would have avoided their worlds until their last days. there was nothing that could stop it now that theyâve found one another, attempting such a thing would only cause this devoted wolf to trample those poor souls who thought themselves capable. they were not. cellinia wouldnât give them the pleasure of success, not even for those nameless monsters who thought they could keep a claim on her lover. oh, theyâd learn she does not share. not in their wildest dreams. those hands of hers are bloody for a reason, she isnât afraid to cut them to pieces or to prove why sheâs every bit a monster. mercy isnât something for them, mercy would be granted only to those that her goddess saw fit. and then sheâd treat her so tenderly in apologies, worship again and prayers from her lips that her beloved goddess would forgive her devotee. this handsome devotee who would be on her knees in prayer, a slow worship as her tongue tastes every drop of forgiveness in her sighs.
she does it too well, prodding at instincts that she tries to ignore for the sake of her beloved goddess. this greedy girl who found herself demanding it. this is your punishment, mai. in how she purrs out growls, deep from her throat and demanding. a hunger thatâs ignited, merciless and unable to get enough in how much she wants to devour her. her moans are fed to her, deep and needy. music it must be to her ears in how she sounds so desperate, how those hands of hers are gripping tight on her thighs in their firm touch. she doesnât let go, she only kisses her reverently. her desperation and desire, her refusal to settle for anything less than claiming this goddess who made a terrible mistake in prodding her wolf like this. she doesnât restrain it, much less the urge to treat her goddess to more time spent being treated to her generous worship.
humanity is only a shackle to a beast, but as befitting the punishment for your crime, itâs only fitting that the beast devours everything offered. her eyes wild, the monster in full flare from their closeness. that desire to melt together into being one is there again, itâs a pity that they couldnât while a small part of their minds calls them pathetic for falling like this. love has found its way in, all by mixing with their lust. their never-ending urge to keep going, to keep pressing buttons and refusing to back down from a challenge thatâs presented before them. celliniaâs gaze holds no semblance of mercy, in the sense of it offering the love of a beast and how hungry she must be. the wildness to those searing eyes that her goddess adores, her deserved punishment to see and feel how perfect her mouth feels on her lips.
on her skin, on places so sensitive, while her hands latch on to her body. to her, this goddess who had brought out something she shouldnât have dared to. monster, she is a monster. sheâs known this for a while now in how the wolf does not fit in more by appearance, by urges when they flare to teach someone a lesson. humanity has only itself to blame when this monster finds the need to behave like one. this beast of yours, darling goddess, can you hear the way she utters that word with desperation?
mine, she says, mine.
the demand and claim of ownership, while giving her that leash sheâs refusing to let go of. this goddess is only hers. the wolf thinks that in the more animalistic part of her mind, the baser instincts which threaten to consume them both. only she would worship her body, only the wolf would be her ever devoted knight and beast. willing to sink her teeth in the skin of nameless monsters, willing to tear them apart with her bloodied claws while letting out something frightening. they could not stop her. they wouldnât ever stop her from having this greedy goddess that her ever adoring devotee could only ever give her everything to. why not give in, why not even let her feel how the wolfâs heart pounds in her chest from their closeness. their bodies cry out in desire, a desire for the flame within them to be satisfied from how intense their lust feels.
again, she challenges her. but the wolf knows, this goddess is a liar who lies when it suits her and when itâs evident that she wants something. she can see it in maiâs eyes, she can feel it in her words. she wants that. to be hers, to belong to a beast who would never allow her if she could help it to be taken again by those bastards who haunt her thoughts. theyâd never see the light of day again, their corpses would be left as a reminder that wolves do not take such things lightly when they desire someone. if they want someone to be their mate, they will take them without a second thought. mai, oh you poor goddess, she wouldnât allow her to think otherwise about how serious she is on this.
her growls rumble in her throat deep moans into their kiss, the refusal and desperation to not part is so pathetic of cellinia that they might as well both embrace it as fact. theyâre pathetic girls. so helplessly pathetic in how they respond to the idea of owning and being owned one another, so foolishly ignoring what it means to do such a thing. there is only one way that could end, that is with loveâs grasp on them growing stronger. misery shall remain, but they would replace the depressing memories with something brighter and sweeter. something that could be more beautiful than the twisted thorns that are wrapped around them, around their hearts.
when mai pulls her in closer, in all her neediness and desire, cellinia follows her down. down into the water, her lips never parting from maiâs own and eyes half-lidded while feeling the way her lover smiles. she enjoys this, she wants this with them both drowning in the water as everything fades. the only thing that cellinia focuses on is mai, mai alone while theyâre both down below in the bathwater. their bodies near mingling, their tongues seeking the other as though they had all the time in the world. itâs easy to become lost this way, forgetful that they are still human. perhaps for a spell forgetting that air is something theyâd need, or maybe these two pathetic girls believe that this kiss would sustain them like the air they need. there was no answer to that question, but that isnât something to worry about. it might not ever be. she kisses mai with every part of that soul of hers.
bared for her, made desperately hungry and wanting. she doesnât look away from the ugliness of her heart, her poor rotten heart that only had half of it remain. cellinia saw no reason to look away, not even to fear it. sheâs by no means an angel, not even a saint or someone with more chivalrous intentions in mind from some things sheâs done as an excuse. sheâs only a pathetically hopeless monster, falling for her prey and wanting to keep her forever in this lonely den turned altar for them.
the seconds tick on by, her lungs burn, oh theyâre so close to being one together. who needed to breathe when they have each other? sadly, she did, they both did. when the seconds turned to minutes of shared breaths and giving one another their greed as it intensified, cellinia eventually, brings them back to the surface together. sheâs gasping, water trails down that curtain of black and red hair. her lungs are thankful that her self-preservation won out before it got to be too late. she was too willing to go further, even if it meant that they both might have died had she not brought herself to reality. to what would be their future not ending before it had ever begun. those wild eyes of her eyes are searing, devoted and staring as she heaves out the harshest of sighs from how lost she became.
was that enough, mai? was it? she would give her another show if she could have of her devotion before satisfying this greed of theirs. this eternal greed that seeps into their reality, the world which they have as of now would change forever. that is guaranteed when the wolf wonders dimly if she ought to move them, her sense of reason is there enough to recognize that a bathtub would be uncomfortable. however, she also doubts theyâd reach her bedroom again knowing that the sheets had only just been changed.)
Youâre mine, only mine.
(the wolf breathes it out slowly, the torturous and hungering silence ends in how harsh she must sound. how guttural and desperate.)
[Whether insatiable monster or merciful human, love shall take any form it pleases in order to burrow deeply into the hearts it has chosen for its shelter. It sneaks and slithers past even the most formidable of defenses, the most calloused of souls who would look this breathtaking emotion in the eyes and dare to call it anything but. What does Mai call this feeling, when she finds herself locked beneath the pitiless stare of the beast she has so boldly lured out with her provocations, the same beast she desires to claim as a lover? What is this sensation that seizes her in that moment right before their lips meet in a silent pact, right before they submit to these sanctified waters, together and nearly one? And when they at last descend beneath the surface, who is it that holds Mai fast against her bodyâ is it the ever-devoted knight who would weep tears of love in exchange for a blessing, or the monster who will make her voracious demands of Mai until her fiery hunger is finally sated?
It is a question that lingers, unanswered, as her eyes flutter shut the second that Cellinia carefully urges them both beneath the water. The mild warmth envelops her, grazing her cheeks as it passes over her flesh. How pleasant, how primal, this feeling of warmth and security, where little else matters save for her singular lifeline. An unmatched heat grows between the their lips, in this kiss that robs them of breath but bestows upon them a rebirth they weren't certain they had deserved until now. And they deserve it, don't theyâ these lovers who would take one another to such depths without realizing how irreversibly it will claim them? There is no good in entertaining the old, worn images of themselves that they've carried with them for so long. Within this kiss in an invitation to unburden themselves of the ghosts that keep them from taking even a single step forward, together.
It's as if every terrible voice in Mai's mind is smothered completely with each passing moment that their lips claim one another's, that their tongues caress in slick, languid motions. Against the silence that devours them in this ritual of mutual devotion, she allows herself to be pulled even deeper into Cellinia's possession.
Mine, mine mineâŠ
Those are the only words that flood the vast emptiness that has long-since made itself home within Mai's being. Though they belong to Cellinia, who speaks her vows as gallantly as if she were always destined for the path of this corrupted knight, Mai feels this spell draw itself from her own weary heart, cleaved in two. These words might be the end of her, one day. They might be the reason she stares down death wearing a face unfamiliar to her nightmare-plagued mind. Right, when it appears before her, it will wear the most beautiful face while it casts these most beautiful words over her spellstruck soul.
Shall they surprise death itself by hastening towards an end of their own? The tepid water welcome these lovers as they forsake the very air they breathe in favor of a kiss that is more charged with life than any other manner of sustenance that might have kept their miserable lives going before they found one another. With this act, they can excise yet another part of themselves that cannot remain if this love is to bloom, and kill it themselves before death's outstretched hand can lay its icy claim.
If such audacity is a crime, then of course this is her punishment. And Mai has always deserved it, to be punished so soundly for everything that she is and everything that she has done. Everyone believes as much, anyway. It is the curse upon their lips at the mere sight of her, no matter how beautiful she might be, their keener eyes see something condemnable and lacking within her. And, beloved wolfâ you see it, too, don't you? Though a different manner of lack, an emptiness only you can replenish through your own bloodied promises. You see something that they cannot, and never will. Yet before you carve out their faithless, loathsome eyes yourself, you may turn your welcomed judgment first upon this willful goddessâ this liar of a girl whose biggest crime is believing that the beast she dares to tame is but a dream she fears awakening from.
So, dole out this punishment, Cellinia. Make her pay every last price she owesâ for tormenting you to this point of breaking, and for lying so blatantly in her haughty words, while her lonely eyes betray the truth to your steadfast gaze. She wants to be yours, just as she wants you to be hers. Yet Mai knows, between a pitiful human and a proud beast, the scales shall always tip in favor of willâ and if Cellinia truly wills it, Mai won't fathom fighting back.
How badly would she even have struggled against her passionate wolf, had she decided to keep them beneath the water's surface for a handful of seconds longer? She had always figured that she'd perish at the hands of a monster. This wouldn't be too terrible of an end, all things considered. But Cellinia decides to spare her, spare them both, and clutch to the possibility of further moments in each other's company. When Mai opens her eyes again, the sight before her looks more bright, more brilliant. Cellinia, who still holds her close, looks almost holy beneath the warm lighting. And how splendid her gasping sounds to Mai's earsâ she sounds alive, marvelously so, the mouth that had nearly claimed her soul in their kiss now daring to claim her in words as she watches her beneath the rivulets of water streaming from her dark hair.
Likewise, Mai's own lungs smart at their reckless indulgence. Against Cellinia's lips, she laughs, the sounds broken and breathless as they mingle in with her own desperate gasping. Her mind is hazy and almost far away in a manner she doesn't quite mind, the near-dangerous lack of oxygen only adding to the mild delirium from their stint underwater.]
Mm-hmmâŠ
[Even this hum of agreement is made hoarse in her attempt to catch her breath, but what her voice cannot fully convey, her eyes are only too willing to make up for in their glimmering enthusiasm. Yes, she shall only belong to this greedy wolf, and she's more than fine with it. The exhilaration of living after flirting with a beautiful demise has her rather amenable to whatever her lover might demand of her.
Letting Cellinia bear the brunt of her weight in her ever-sturdy arms, Mai simply keeps herself latched onto her lover with her own arms draped around her neck. She combs her fingers through the strands of red-black, coaxing them neatly over Cellinia's shoulders as she does. Her own hair must look a right mess, but she doesn't have it in her to care all that much. Mai doesn't even bother to blink away the droplets of water that catch onto her dark eyelashes. Even Cellinia might be able to savor the sight of her goddess in such a state, cheeks flushed and body shaking as she steadies her breathing.]
A real monster would have ended me.
[Any cheekiness in her claim is muted heavily beneath the breathlessness with which she utters it. In fact, the way she looks up at Cellinia is almost appreciative, a good-natured teasing dancing beneath the sweet way in which she kisses the edges of her lips.]
I should be thankful, right?
[Mai murmurs against her skin, her tone making her seem almost pliant, eager to please. It's far from the demeanor she would have donned for those monsters back home, true monsters. Less put-on, and much less embittered. She wouldn't feel disgust with herself after, that much is for certain. For she is thankful, for a multitude of things that she probably shouldn't be, but there's no way out of the wolf's den, is there? One of her hands finds it's way palming over Cellinia's collar, her fingertips gliding down her sternum in a show of affection.]
Express my gratitude to you somehow⊠right?
[Another laugh, less breathless this time, and her usual nerve pokes its way back in just a little. After all, a show of gratitude is something you would expect of your possession, right? Good manners, a brand of devotion all her own in exchange for the mercy shown here. Cellinia may be a monster, but she strikes a different kind of fear into Maiâ the kind that dares not imagine this being their only moment together. Yes, a fear of love, this curious duality that mingles as easily as their own bodies do in one another's embrace.
And Mai knows all too well, that every exchange ought to be measured carefully for the debt to be repaid. Sins and punishment, prayers and blessingsâ let them be absolved of the desperation that lies beneath their union.]
(she couldnât help herself, not in the way those beautiful eyes are on her lover. she almost seems so serene, so holy, for someone so greedy. the ever devoted knight, the ravenous beast, it didnât matter which had won out beneath the fathoms. or perhaps, it was both together. they belong slowly to one goddess, both sides of one monster who did not ever want to release this girl. itâs delightful to the instincts, the desire of ruinous love which embraces them. both wolf and her dear goddess who she graces with her kiss, who she graces with saving from an early end by rising from the depths of this tub. her breathing is harsh, the wolf canât help that intense craving that swells within her and thrums through her veins. devouring this girl would be so easy, putting her mouth on every precious and sensitive part of her body. it wouldnât be hard. yet she doesnât, the monster instead has fallen in love with her prey in the gravest of sins within this pathetic life sheâs lived. this hopelessly foolish life that had been filled with turmoil and the eventual release of what she once was to who she is now. she who touches this girl with a tenderness that had not been given to another.
her body is held close to her, the brunt of her weight against the wolf as they share their breaths in this tender embrace fueled by delirium and how they near kissed death itself. flirting with it while their bodies would have sunk together, ended by the monster that is known as love all too soon in their wretched lives. their jaded hearts which had wept in their long since past days of childhood innocence, there was no return to that and the whims of children who desire love most. all that it gets them is punished for living. but thatâs not what happened here now, is it? she gave her goddess that punishment she asked for. she gave her a life reborn as they do away with what once had been them. past selves, past lives, and whatever else had haunted them as nameless monsters and named monsters had hoped to keep their claws sunk deep in the thorns that encase them. they didnât belong to those nameless bastards, they only need to call out to one another and do away with the nightmares plaguing them to a touch so tender that it brings them life anew.
because it did little good to let themselves think of those monsters. the wolf, she hears the words, she feels the brush of her loverâs lips against the corner of her mouth. how she murmurs into her skin with a hoarse rasp and brush of her hand trailing down her sternum, the palming of it along her collar while those beautifully inked arms rest around her lover. she holds her closely, so closely that she feels her heart within her chest while her goddess speaks. her cheekiness is there, though blunted, how she speaks of expressing gratitude and being thankful for her beast of a devotee sparing them what would have been a beautiful demise. amber eyes rest on hazel, their closeness searing as the urge is there to kiss her throughout the day and pretend that they did not have a reality to return to beyond this little slice they cut themselves. this is what reality should be, a dream which they would never have alone again with the desire to give into the ruin of this poisonous affection.
cellinia for her part doesnât dare to release her lover, not her goddess who she kisses idly and breathless. languid, slow, and even like sheâs thinking about her words. about how she mentioned that a real monster would have ended them both. no, sheâs right. they both would have drowned had it not been for that humanity. the wolf, sheâs not a true monster despite the way she carries herself and may seem while theyâre here alone. she could be something nasty, something fierce and wild to the point of others steering clear for their own safety. they did not want to know what sheâs capable of.)
Would you like to?
(she murmurs it, the question, the question on her mind while one hand trails along the small of her loverâs back. their lips barely parted in this little space that they have together. ah, she must seem so needy for you, goddess. with or without being pressed into letting out something so beast like. her hands are an instrument of demise, but they rest so beautifully along her skin. in all the ways that bloodied hands can be gentle while granting a lover something so tender that it kills the monster, and oh, how it feels for her heart to be so easily within the grasp of a goddess that doesnât know what she holds. a devoted knight who doesnât know what it is that she offers and holds in tender reverence.)
Would you like for me to take you from this tub and touch you again so tenderly, for you to touch me again?
(be mine, her gaze says. be mine, never again will someone else have you, mai. those monsters would fade forever into the white noise. they didnât need to exist, sheâd easily end them when the time comes, if ever. sheâd end them so beautifully for you, while wishing to grant upon you an embrace so tender that it would be frightening. nobody could earn such a reaction from a monster. a monster who slowly begins again, to kiss her upon her lips, whose tongue brushes against her loverâs lips while they embrace within the space of this tub. inside water that is losing its heat while they forget again what it was they were supposed to be doing. that they had set out to clean themselves and carry on in a different change to their dreary lives. the lives of wretched sinners who had lost so much. hopeless, jaded, and never again to be seen as pure in the eyes of the world.
is there anything better than the love of a beast? is there anything sweeter than the way the monster would embrace you? the truth is, there isnât. nothing comes as beautiful, as desirable as that. this monster would dare to keep her forever, beyond forever while setting fire to what once was her life under those nameless monsters that do not deserve to be near this altar. this sacred place her love deems her safety and shield from the world. cellinia is only too happy to oblige to that want with her arms around her, she would not do anything less than behave as beautifully as a corrupted knight could. a knight that is not like any other in this path to wonderful ruin. to their hearts shared, mending one another into one while everything that once destroyed them seems so far away. beyond their ears, their grasp.
because it did not have to own them any longer, cellinia does not desire anything more than this goddess she so tenderly reveres to be hers. to never allow her to be left wanting, without anything that she could truly call her own. that is what it means to be owned by this beast and to own her, to hold her leash to her chest while their nights are spent full of a ruinous love that many would be afraid of touching. beautiful, dangerous, and so tender that it could rot away those pricked by the thorns that come together in their souls.)
Tell me, what do you want, Mai?
(the needy way she says it, the needy prayer. how does she want her devoted beast to worship her, and how does she want to be worshiped if they leave this tub for another altar to be their own? how does she want her handsome wolf to kiss her, to kiss her body in places that no other soul would touch or see. or would she want something visible, something to be seen and wear proudly as a gift that belonged to her from this devotee that she has in her hands? sheâs too willing to do all of it. between the slow and languid kisses, the steadying of her breathing as heat courses through her body.
what must she do, to give her the world and keep her in this den? to entrap and will away old festering wounds, to remove barbed thorns from them as they begin again a life that would change them. that life would ends what once was their past and brings in a future which could even destroy them more, as love does. sweet and torturous love. how beautiful it is, how radiant and yet they blind themselves to it in the way cellinia has a taste for her lover that goes beyond what one would deem suitable for a corrupt and hopeless knight like her. but she isnât very knightly for someone so chivalrous now, sheâs anything but suitable for the word in how sheâd take advantage of it because she felt a certain way. mainly to bring ruin upon those who were inexcusable for their actions and more than that.)
Tell me, how tender do you want my kiss, for me to kiss along your skin and taste you while we both never let go of our greed?
(tender poison, tender words and such a needy whine, do you like hearing this mai? how she wants to know what you want? that sheâd even desire to hear how much you might want her to make love to you? sheâd do it in a heartbeat, she wouldnât stop until that greed had some manner of satisfaction to it for a time. there was no helping that. this is what shall be the future, the love of a greedy beast and her greedy goddess who wants to own and tame her to be hers alone.
itâs only fitting. this is what shall be what makes and unmakes them, as it had been decided from the start since their first kiss and the tender touch of this wolf who was anything but a true knight.)
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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.)
no subject
Date: 2025-05-16 11:49 pm (UTC)Later, much later, can they ponder over the challenges that this love might pose to them, the longer they carry on. How enduring is a love built by nervous hands that hardly know a thing about it? How fulfilling is an affection created from promises soaked in blood and violence, rather than an unadulterated kindness that would far better nurture two hearts who seek out one another? Every rational thought that might rise from the shadows of their curiously-begotten passions can certainly demand an answer. Think about it, think clearly about itâ why not let this become but another thrill to shelve amongst their memories, a pretty golden glint tucked between the drab and painful gray? But the biggest folly is believing that these girls could ever choose rationality when they'd much rather bathe themselves entirely in the golden light of this treasure unearthed in each other's embrace.
They'll leave one another with parting gifts of love, even if it might not yet wear such a name just yet. Cellinia is more than welcome to impress beautiful reminders of a beast's love upon her goddess' body. But in turn, Mai shall not disappear from her wolf's den without cradling that desperately beating heart and submerging it so deeply in her attentive adoration that it might never yearn for air again. The way that Cellinia watches her before taking her reward, with a gaze so intense that she doubts that any amount of kisses could quench it, only affirms to Mai that this is the right path for them. No, it's the only path, open and stretched long in front of them, where they will cease to refuse their longing for each other's touch any further.
Cellinia may be the first to crack and give in at the temptations so brazenly offered to her, but Mai isn't immune to the breathtaking sensation of relief once she's given both her due praise and the most pining of kisses. If anyone is pitiful here, it's most certainly Mai, who whimpers needily as soon as her ears are graced with the sound of Cellinia revering her so ardently. Oh, how she cherishes it, the anguished desperation drenching every word Cellinia speaks aloud before succumbing to yet another pressing of their hungry lips together. No, Mai can't get enough, either, and welcomes the way her greedy wolf clings to her, shifting their positions slightly in the same vain attempt Mai had made not long before, to melt into the other irreversibly. It doesn't matter, it doesn't matter that they can't get any closer than this, and Mai can't do anything other than mirror Cellinia's eagerness, wrapping her legs around her waist with the added space and tightening her arms about her shoulders. Even then, it's not enough, an agony all its own, but Mai can ignore it in favor of how splendidly dizzy she feels right now, soaked in praise and never-ending kisses.
Cellinia's adoration takes center stage, her goddess so generously casting the spotlight upon her, now, while staking her place as a rapt audience of one. Mai dares not interrupt her, nor cut short her words with any pointless thing she might say in return. This is all she wants, the only thing, and if she has to hold her tongue and offer herself up to satiate Cellinia's ravenous lips, then she'll do itâ she'll be so good for her again, if this will keep the flood of praise spilling over her parched heart.
It's still so new, the sudden rush of satisfaction that floods her when she's indulged so readily by her lover. That when she asks for something, it's given without question or admonishment, a back-handed remark or a reason to feel guilty for even making a request in the first place. Mai had swallowed this bitterness repeatedly throughout her dismal youth, learning not to expect a thing from the people who were supposed to love herâ not even the barest sliver of attention, for she knows that it would have made her parents only too happy if they could ignore their failures and still imagine their own lives bright and full of promise. Once, she would have given nearly anything for even a word of love from them, any acknowledgment that her existence was worth the effort. A pointless wish, of course. They left her a void to patch up however she could, and discarded her along with a disappointment she quietly resigned herself to carrying for the rest of her life.
Of course, starved as she is for praise, for recognition at how she can be good and useful when she puts her mind to it, Mai utterly melts at Cellinia's impassioned words as if she has been touched by the sun itself. Oh, her hopeless lover who bears a name that evokes the image of a cold, silvery moon, harnesses the light she steals from the sun far better than daylight's grandest star. It doesn't even feel worth it for Mai to try to maintain her haughty superiority in this moment, not when it feels so liberating to finally, finally have everything that her pathetic little heart has been pleading for.]
Mm-hmmâ
[She feeds an anxious hum of approval against Cellinia's lips as they kiss again, another traded amongst the countless they've given like this. Mai agrees, they really do fit perfectly together, molded against each other with how tightly Cellinia holds onto to her, their hearts singing for one another in their frenzied rhythms. For a moment, she almost considers apologizing for eventually having to leave her lover alone without her taste, but the urgency beckons her to abandon this sentimentality in favor of giving Cellinia exactly what she had promisedâ more, more, more kisses, enough to make her forget she had ever ached for them to begin with. Oh, but that's not all her lover wants⊠]
Touch me, then, Cellinia.
[After another break in their kisses, Mai sighs her name out hopelessly, as if it were a wish that she was afraid she'd lose the chance to make forever.]
Do itâ do it, or I'll just go and make you wait again.
[Rightâ Cellinia would be the one to endure another bout of Mai's sweet torture. As if to prove her intent, she looses her hold around her lover's shoulders, keeping one hand firm around the back of her neck, while the other snakes down between their bodies. With the same care she boasted earlier, but no less of an appetite, Mai cups her palm over the fullness of Cellinia's breast, feeling thoroughly pleased at how her fingertips sink into the soft and pliant flesh, catching the droplets of water as they trickle down. She leans in to kiss her, all while rubbing her thumb slowly over the the stiffening bud of her nipple. See? Nothing is stopping Cellinia from touching Mai, as she so badly wishes to. Nothing, save for Cellinia herself.]
Then you'll really lose it.
[Even breathing out this threat causes Mai to grin against Cellinia's lips before claiming them in another open-mouthed kiss. She slips her tongue along her precious wolf's, hasty and slick in her movements, and uncaring of how messy they're becoming. After all, what better place to truly make a mess of one another than right here? And Mai, so painfully turned on nowâ all thanks to her handsome and eager loverâ wants so badly to ruin Cellinia again. Not a single thought that passes through her mind of how exactly she'd love to do it, is the least bit innocent.
When she speaks next, her voice is burdened by its own low and needy whine, but the intent couldn't be any more resolute.]
Cellinia, I wanna make you lose it for meâŠ
[A mistake, Cellinia, to confess your troubles oh so honestlyâ did you really not think that Mai wouldn't use it to her advantage?]
no subject
Date: 2025-05-17 09:19 pm (UTC)some may say it also comes in many forms, each fitting the pair involved while leaving them longing for more. underneath the violence and blood promised, there is a sense of kindness. sweetness. darkly given vows are followed by tender touches, tender kisses, and tender words shared that go beyond the shadows, engulfing them in promises meant to destroy those that her lover deemed necessary. the nameless monsters will pay. but not any time soon, not today, and not even tomorrow. just eventually if thatâs the path she wants to take with those promises that were whispered to her on their altar comprised of sinful desire. this is what would heal them in a sense, the festering wounds that might never fade will feel like theyâve come close to closing. their dreary worlds didnât matter any longer since the start, they didnât need such a world any longer with mundane delights and the normalcy of two girls who had long given up on the notion of anything more than they had.
it is the right path, their only path. no single kisses would satiate the sense of yearning within, no amount of praise showered would satisfy the greed of her love who wants to hear more of it on the tongue of her ever devoted wolf. this wolf that murmurs on her lips the sweetest of words to soothe the anxiety she feels, this wolf who moans lowly when a soft hand reaches for one of her breasts and receives permission to touch her more. her nipple is stiffening further as mai starts to swipe her thumb along it.
sentimentality can wait until another time, a time when their lips arenât focused more on memorizing a taste that their bodies are addicted to. like their lives depended on it in slick and messy brushes of their tongues together. open mouth kisses met with a hunger when cellinia finds herself almost pushed back against the tub again. she tastes so lovely, mai does. from each lick of their tongues together, the sound of their frantically beating hearts longing for the otherâs hands to touch them. give them all the love and attention theyâve craved. her heart would never want another to lavish it in the attention her goddess offers, the same way that cellinia thinks to herself that mai might not want someone else to touch her how the wolf does with tender hands.
the threat. her loverâs resolution to make her beloved devotee lose her mind, does set off something. it makes her feel hotter. run hotter at the thought mai might want to keep ruining her, the same way cellinia wants to haunt her forever. her lips part, if only barely from the kiss to breathe while one hand of hers trails along maiâs spine again. she remembered it from earlier, the other finds itself cupping a breast similarly to what mai did to her a few moments ago. her hand is still rough, but her touch is gentle in how she cups and kneads soft flesh. fingers gently squeezing into her supple and tender breast in between her thumb and forefinger teasing the stiffened bud there.
sheâd take it in her mouth if it wasnât preoccupied by other things, such as maiâs lips when she kisses her again. not caring theyâre devolving into graceless and messy things, not caring that their bath has completely derailed in how painfully aroused they both are. the bath water will be ruined in their filth and grow tepid by the time they finish, their scents will mingle again in their natural scents and lavender mixed with sex. sex that seems a bit more common than what one would deem suitable for a single night. the wolf didnât want a single night, she starts to think, she wants more than one night in which this tender feeling might engulf her. this bliss and itâs odd nature where they found themselves following a set rhythm already, not just the part where they can barely keep their hands off one another. that didnât matter. what mattered more is how good it might feel to stay, to not let her go if she didnât want to leave one day and wanted more to carry on in more blissful days.
days that their pasts would have no place in them. because theyâre so hopeless, mai might be more pitiful, but cellinia? sheâs far more hopeless. she must be, in how she feeds her lover those pretty moans when their lips are together. the wolf has to sound desperately needy, every time the kiss breaks, she comes back for more of her lips from the briefest of breaks. her breathing is harsh, unsteady. sheâs thinking about it, about how mai wants to make her lose it for her. about how her lover sounded at hearing her honesty, how she twists it in desire that the two of them feel strongly about one another.)
How would you? How would you make me lose it more?
(she starts to ask, breaking the kiss finally for longer than the briefest of seconds to trail her lips down to her neck. the flick of her hot tongue along skin both marked and not, what patches of it that she didnât is given special attention. a kiss, her suckling along it with soothing licks of her tongue to make up for it.)
Tell me what youâre thinking, while I mark more of your skin. While I want to keep claiming you, your body. Keep being good for me, making those pretty sounds while you tell me.
(the wolf breathes it out slowly, hot breath along her loverâs neck then trailing down to her collar. her devoted wolf and knight, she kisses along the marks she left. teeth scraping into them like she intends to renew them so soon. almost make them into something semi-permanent in how she decorates her body with a beastâs own love.
she wants to hear everything. she wants to, while her tongue soothes tender bites. she has to, while their world isnât fixated on the outside. on what is their usual, what would be before they had made this choice of theirs to carry on into something that they would be reborn by. because cellinia wants to hear it, her loverâs voice. the things that sheâd do, that she craves to do and craves for her devoted wolf to do. does she want her to haunt her so badly, how much does she want to hear the wolf say that mai is hers in hushed whispers and love unwittingly exchanged?
because she can do all of that, whisper it all and tell her against her lips or the parts of her skin she kisses that sheâs hers. she even does mouth it at one point after finding another patch of unmarked flesh, she mouths the words, âmineâ against it. not speaking it, but thinking it as they follow down the start of this path to ruin and losing themselves further. they wonât be the same, except this time it is their choice that led into the path they take. not someone else making it for them or forcing it upon them.
not someone taking away what would have been the luxury of innocence that they once had, instead they take this path. this route that her goddess had set them on by her desperate declaration and neediness. that she wants her wolf to lose it. then if mai wants that, cellinia wants one thing and one thing alone from what would be their future. their forever on this altar they make themselves and grow in their garden together.
that she never wants to stop haunting her, that she wants to ruin mai and take her with her into this path. never letting go, never letting her leave the den, sheâd make it into a home for them both.)
no subject
Date: 2025-05-18 06:56 pm (UTC)It's possible that Mai might've gotten a glimpse of it in it's mind-numbing beauty beneath the silvery light of the moon, held firmly in the reverent gaze of one who offered her true freedom in exchange for possessing her completely. Yes, that must have been love, announcing to Mai that it does indeed exist in this most curious of unions, before disappearing with the dawn and daring her to chase it. Is she even sure that she wants to pursue it? Would it even allow her to catch it? It could be another taunt, another goal forever out of reach to her grasping hands, her cruel mind will have her believe. Even if it's right here, here and unmoving in her very hands at this moment, sighing and breathy beneath her hungry touch, melting deliciously with every passionate kiss exchanged.
Yes, Mai has love in her foolish, clumsy grasp and doesn't even know it. She doesn't know that it tastes like Cellinia's lips against her own, that it feels like their hands caressing and teasing the sensitive parts of their bodies, that it sounds like those aching moans humming against Mai's tongue as Cellinia feeds them into every feverish kiss they share. It hides in the way that this wolf ghosts her calloused fingers up Mai's spine again, a silent promise to haunt her in the shudders that this touch elicits. She doesn't know, this silly girl, that she has something so brilliant in her hands that it blinds her to its true nature. And she'll wonder why, as she tries to fit it erroneously into a compartment of lust, why she lies awake at night, unsatisfied and lonely and missing her lover.
Because as long as it's lust, she can tell herself that nothing could be easier. But as long as she finds herself circling back for more, she'll discover that the best parts of her are in the fragments she leaves in the wake of pleasure from their nights spent together. And one day, before she knows it, she'll find herself more at home in this den than anywhere else, where the chaste affections shared in the daylight fulfill her heart just as splendidly as the love they'll make beneath the moon's careful watch.
Is it Mai's fault that she wants to leave behind a reason to return? Her lack of talent extends, without a doubt, to the grace she can give to any potential friend or lover. Being kind, being sweet, or even being patientâ it is territory that's hardly familiar to her. It would even be more apt to say that she elects to be ignorant of it, turning her nose up at such weakness because she knows that it is merely another invitation to be crushed again. She knows too well how people will treat a vulnerable little flower, ripping apart its fragile petals for amusement, because what fight can something so flimsy put up? So she's done it, herself, torn up anything lovely that might have blossomed from tenderness, and replaced it all with an overgrowth of thorns to keep everyone away.
In some respects, she wishes she had those pretty blooms to give away, plucking them from herself to present to Cellinia. She could keep them in a little vase, with each petal that withers and falls a countdown to when they can meet again, to build a secret devotion beneath another intoxicating bout of kisses. How romantic, and yet how foreign to Mai all the same. But she doesn't have any flowers to give. This garden of theirs is far from flourishing still, the seeds barely sown as they impatiently await the rainfall to come. All she has to leave behind are her desert-borne thorns and spines, tipped with her poisonous yearning and buried deeply within her lover's scarred flesh. And maybe, once Cellinia is finished drawing out the last few, she'll decide that she loves the sting of Mai's affection and find herself circling back for more of it, too.
Even now, it seems as if she wishes for Mai to paint her a rather amorous picture of what rewards might be in store if they continued on like this, pushing each other to their limits and seeing what exactly it'd take to ensure that this addiction lasts forever. Fineâ Mai can do it. She really does want to keep being good for Cellinia. How mean of her devoted wolf to use her neediness against her like this!]
Haâ you wanna hear it? You'd rather I tell you, than show you?
[Of course she does, the masochist. It's another form of self-inflicted torture for the wolf, and Mai would call her out for it in words, were her breathy laugh not already mocking enough.]
Easyâ I'd never let you touch me, ever again.
[Though, this answer is only easy because Cellinia has only made it all too obvious that she never seems to get her fill of touching Mai. Not even moments ago was she lamenting at how, in her attempts to sit still while those pretty ears fell prey to her lover's wicked lips, it took everything in her not to let her hands wander where they longed to. It's easy because it's a lieâ because Cellinia's fingers teasing at her breast, her touch slow along the grooves of her spine, are sensations for which Mai would sooner die than never feel again. With a small, blissful whine, Mai cranes her neck enough to give Cellinia room to explore as she pleases.]
You liked it enough last night, didn't you?
[She taunts, knowing it was wrecking Cellinia to have her hands out of commission, despite being the one to suggest it to begin with. Mai would torment her until Cellinia pleaded with her oh so prettily again, completely unaware that this little game would only serve to feed her desire to be loved and wanted, a deeper and more pitiful longing that hides beneath the cloak of lust as it beckons Mai to satiate it.]
R-Right, I'dâ
[A small gasp punctuates her thought, the sensation of Cellinia's lips finding yet another space upon her neck to suckle another mark drawing her attention away to melt into the pleasure. From this position, with her lover's head dipped to occupy her lips at Mai's neck and collarbone, it leaves those fluffy ears open once again for another round of sweet agony.]
I'd make you tell me all of the ways you wish you could touch me, andâŠ
[She breathes out sharply, shakily, before taking the damp fur between her lips for a firm nipping, humming a low groan as she then gives it a soft suckle of her own. Mai releases that ear just enough to let her tongue trail over where her lips once played, and finishes her terrible threat.]
And then, I'd do it myself, right in front of you.
[Just the thought of it makes her swell with giddiness, the amusement such that she can't resist laughing hotly against Cellinia's ear. Yes, she'd make her beautiful wolf's fantasies come true, but by her own hand. That would do it, that would make Cellinia vow to never be good for Mai again, wouldn't it? Even if she's so beautiful when she behaves⊠]
Wouldn't even let you have a taste, afterâ not even if you were crying for it.
[And oh, how she would love to bring her to that point. What would it take? Would Mai have to reduce herself to tears in the throes of pleasure before her devoted wolf, in order to really make her lover lose her mind? A splendid idea, an excellent exercise in imagination, one she would certainly have to remember for whenever they find themselves longing again, and with ample time for such a cruel adventure.]
no subject
Date: 2025-05-20 02:33 am (UTC)the painfully rich and aching moans fed to her lips, the way her teeth sinks into maiâs skin. she leaves her such pretty marks of love, things that say that she doesnât belong to someone else in how thoroughly she decorates her body. her tongue traces along the fresh love bite, soothing it and tasting the mix of bathwater and maiâs skin. isnât she beautiful? the kind of handsome beauty that plenty would long to have in their hands. even with her being a wolf, sheâs the biggest prize anyone could dream of having. all theirs. only theirs theyâd beg, but she never once allowed herself to be tied down. a true embodiment of the moon, while her fingertips trail along her loverâs spine, feeling the way that she shivers against it like itâs never enough for that alone.
not even for how her hand teases her breast, kneading it and rolling her nipple with the one she can take in hand from their closeness. she wishes they can melt, that it wasnât an impossible wish for them to become one while their bodies crave to have that reverent touch that can heal them. itâs an offering given to a goddess, an answer to a prayer by her most devoted who touches her so tenderly. donât you want more of it, greedy goddess? that way she looks at you with those searing eyes, how she could worship you forever with her kiss. the moon itself may embrace them as its own, taking their fledgling love into its own hands.
arousal and lust burns thickly inside of her, hungrily. those words, they set off something again. from the way that mai catches her ears, the soft fur of it between her lips and her laughter. the low sound of her groan, like she found her new favorite thing to play with along the body of this wolf. those ears. the one ear that she messed with, trembles from the attention she grants it. wouldnât being shown be better? perhaps, but the imagination can work wonders in the pictures that can be painted while cellinia feels that heat. the burning urge within her that tells her, her lover is a liar. she knows. she knows from how she shudders, sighs, and even moans for her that mai wouldnât deny herself that touch. that sheâd die before she was without this touch of rain in their mutual garden in this desert called affection that they desire. her heart couldnât take that, not even the idea of being without that poison running through their veins. weakness, vulnerability, itâs a death sentence for girls like them.
but they donât resist the allure of it, not in how they cling and let go. threaten to melt into one being as the cracks within their hearts want to be filled. the missing piece of their souls, the missing part of them as they sigh out so softly in pleasure. this is love. love is the way their bodies fit perfectly, love is how they dread the idea of parting. it even is how they hold tenderly their beating hearts in their own hands, with a want to never let go of them. their eyes are only on them. itâs irresistible, the temptations held out to their nervous hands that are comprised of things that are normally too sweet. the clumsy beginnings of love mixing into their lust and want for more in how both goddess and beloved wolf feel wanted.
feel something more than their agony, their wounds that festered so deep that nobody could heal them. because of that, cellinia knows what she wants to say. what it is that she wishes to do, in response to her desire to torture her in this sweet agony again.)
What if I break free?
(she murmurs hotly against her neck, her lips brushing up against the skin of it deliberately between each word while she trails her kiss upward. slow, an agonizing slowness while those amber eyes are on maiâs lovely face. never leaving it once, not even for a moment.)
What if I did that from my restraints, what if I touched you with such ravenous desire and kissed you down against the mattress?
(she shifts, closer, almost like one move could pull them underneath the bathwater where they might near drown. perhaps even be baptized like those who found themselves desiring rebirth, her slow kiss pauses before her loverâs lips and her eyes hold a wild look to them. a look that promises something not held back by humanity and mercy if pushed to that extent in how cellinia finds it impossible to not keep going. to keep bending to this temptation and prodding of her restraint, her patience, which can be easily frayed by her goddess deciding to do such a thing to her. is this what she wanted to hear?
is it? the way she speaks so lowly, so full of hunger in her? itâs only fair to give her goddess what it is that sheâs wanting. thatâs what the wolf can do with these hands of hers, while torturing herself in a desire for a kiss that she might crave. all the kisses that she craves, if she were honest with herself in how she looks at mai.)
What if I touched you until your body could only ever want my hands on it? Until all it could ever remember is me, in how my lips kiss down along your breasts, your stomach, and your thighs.
(kiss her, you know you want to, cellinia. itâs obvious she does in how their lips come closer, a near kiss over each word. so close, so very close to taking it. but she doesnât, not yet. because it did stir within her that animal mai so lovingly brings out of this devotee of hers. with all those words that she desires, all the things that her little red riding hood could ever want of the big bad wolf. because she doesnât refrain from it, not even from the generosity she extends to her and how cellinia wants her so badly. she shows it in her touch even now, with the threat of them going under in the metaphorical waters of rebirth that is this bathtub. is this what she wants? to drown them in it as they abandon their rationality?
who knows, cellinia only knows that she meets it with her own abandoning of common sense to go deeper. to fall further while they surrender to the feeling they play ignorant about. sheâll make the sweetest of love to her, sheâll even decorate her body in every part of her that her lips touch. thatâs what cellinia wants to do, thatâs what she craves more than anything in this little scenario theyâre imagining together.)
Maybe even until all you might think about is my lips against yours, the way I look at you while covering you in my scent. My voice never leaving your mind as I whisper to you these affection filled words, the vows I say as I fuck you so tenderly again and again.
(she would. she knows that she would, cellinia couldnât help herself. not in how sheâd refuse to stop touching her, sheâd be so good for her that mai could never stop wanting her while misbehaving as she pleases when pressed the right way. all because her goddess desires to test the limits of her handsome wolfâs patience, how long sheâd restrain herself from desiring more. it was torture to not touch her, to withhold and sit there while mai did as she pleased after tying her wrists to her headboard. and then again, when she messed with her ears until she got what it was she desired most from the wolf.
her breaking to pieces with her being unable to keep that promise to behave, her even vowing to give her more. to disobey and touch mai for however long she wishes, all throughout the night where they send the moon those devoted prayers. the altar they ruin, itâd carry their sins, as they could only ever desire one other woman. showering her in those sinful cravings that theyâd never stop having. theyâd never stop, cellinia would never stop feeling so greedy and insatiable. who cares if it might be wrong, if it might even be seen as a sin above all others to worship a girl who had been fucked up by the world the same way that she had? because if it is, then she never wants to be right or never stop seeing her something holy.
something that she devotes her lips to and the way she promises all of these tender vows, the darkly given ones offering blood and death to the monsters in her life. this is what love between girls like them is, what affection and desire could ever be. they are in love, but refuse to see it. refuse to acknowledge it even with the lonely feeling that comes from thinking about their parting.
their minds ignore it, but their hearts could not. oh, you stupid girls, you hopeless and jaded girls. all youâre doing is falling harder. there would be no going back, they only donât know it just yet.)
Would you like that? Dreaming of me, the sight of me haunting you at every waking hour and every time you close your eyes?
no subject
Date: 2025-05-26 12:27 pm (UTC)Were she not absolutely engrossed in the debauched words that spill from her lover's lips, Mai would have quieted her straight away with an impatient kiss. From anyone else, these passionate threats would have rang hollow, a pointless gesture to fluff up a partner's ego while delivering something wholly lackluster in the end. From anyone else, these marks of almost-ownership would have been left behind so carelessly that Mai would have suffered the annoyance of mustering up even the barest shred of pride at wearing them. There's no way she would ever whimper for them as sweetly as she does for Cellinia as she takes care of each new bite she decorates Mai with, nor would they ever have the privilege of hearing those soft sighs of approval when her wolf's handiwork is complete.
But Mai's desire is a depthless pitâ once a goddess has basked in pure, enamored worship, once she has tasted the sweet indulgence of being so utterly revered, she simply can't return to obscurity, to the complete nothingness that awaits her once she's far from the eyes of her most ardent devotee. She wants more of it, darling wolf, and how could she not, when you've spoiled her rotten with your wordless offerings? Pray to her, won't you, Cellinia? Pray in the way that only you can, and marvel at the rewards you shall reap in return for it.
In that ever-charming way of hers, Cellinia makes plain that which she desires as repayment for her worship. What she wishes for is Mai's approval of her beastly nature that is urged to break free whenever her goddess' taunting goes a step too far. It hungers and burns feverishly within her, waiting impatiently under the veneer of a merciful humanity carefully worn to blend in with the ever-cautious masses. She wants Mai to see it, to marvel at it, this unrestrained side of Cellinia that would carve a thousand beautiful reminders of her touch and kiss as she claims her lover in more and more bouts of sweet lovemaking. The wolf, of course, terms it more bluntlyâ that she'd fuck Mai as often as she pleases until the girl is irrevocably haunted and obsessed with her. How animalistic of her, how beastly, but Mai would expect nothing less, despite how prettily she offers such a fate. In fact, she welcomes it, from the spark of arousal that dares to ignite something ferocious in Mai, herself. Their bodies crave one another's with a need that puts all others to shameâ a desire that shall, indeed, one day turn into a love that will redeem them both, but this need is also borne of an echo to the same lamentation that they had only ever believed to be for their own personal grieving.
You've found each other, pitiful lovers, and dance around promises to never be apart. 'Break free,' certainly, but only because you know that you will always return to bury yourself in deeper.
Mai groans softly, blissfully as Cellinia kisses her way up the column of her neck. Within every press of her lips is a teasing delight, one that hints at how perfect this mouth might feel anywhere else, everywhere else. And when her lips are but millimeters from Mai's, it's a cruel taunt all its own. So, the beast can still restrain herself, even after making her grand, lustful declarations? Mai hates that she loves it, hates that she herself is tempted to become the beast, here, and take what she wants rather than playing to the coyness of this little challenge. She almost does, claim the kiss that Cellinia deliberately holds herself back from, before she's posed that final question.
After filling her mind with titillating imagery, her lover asks herâ would she like it, these sinful promises to ruin her body with a deluge of pleasure? Does she even need to ask? That frustrated expression twisting Mai's features into something impatiently beautiful ought to speak for itself.]
Maybe I would. Maybe that's exactly what I'd like, Cellinia.
[Though her words try to carry a certain lightness to them in attempt to maintain an easy nonchalance, the way that Mai's body faintly shivers in excitement is her ultimate traitor. Because she can imagine it oh so clearly, you knowâ and the warmth of the water pales in comparison to the heat pooling in her belly at merely imagining all of the places where Cellinia promises to feast her lips. Every nerve in her body is terrorizing her, nearly raging at her to demand that her lover take her right then and there. And this vexing wolf can only be all too cognizant of how she gets to be the one to shatter Mai's resolve, like this.]
Is that what you want to hear, you monster?
[Her words drip with the prettiest of poisons, this little epithet far from the insult it might have been, any other time. There's nothing but a hunger-drenched affection that promises Cellinia that this side of the beast is one that Mai won't shrink away from facing. Yes, this is the true nature of a wolf, luring girls like her in with a handsome visage and carnal vows. And once they're caught in her grasp, they'll wonder why they had ever thought of escaping.]
Look at you, threatening to make a meal out of me like thatâ see? You've already lost it, no matter how much you think you'd be able to get the better of me.
[But it's only fair to admit that just from words aloneâ these cruelly delicious promises to smother every inch of Mai's soft skin in kissesâ that Mai is losing it, too.]
What, would it make you happy? Sending me back there after you've had your fill, knowing that maybeâ [ and she draws out that last word, emphasizing that she won't claim the certainty of it, even if they both know the truth ] âmaybe, I'd rather be here, with you?
[And she hardly misses a beat: ]
All yours?
[Doesn't that sound so heart-meltingly appealing, pretty wolf? All yours, just as you crave her to be.]
But, you know, I don't think you'd be able to sleep at night. All you'd imagine is poor me, right? Crying my eyes out because you'd make sure nothing could ever compare.
[She sneers, though the troublesome suggestion is as much as slight to Mai as it is to Cellinia. Laid out like this, she all but affirms that she'd be left nearly empty after being spoiled so lovingly beneath Cellinia's attention.]
Yeahâ you'd want me to miss you. Let's seeâŠ
[Oh, she has something up her sleeve. Her eyes look into Cellinia's with a flicker of their usual impishness before she decides to soften her expression, carefully, into something decidedly more yearning. From their respective places, her hands trail wetly over Cellinia's skin as they move to cup her face as they have before. How beautiful, as if she was made to be touched by Mai, and Mai alone. Another shift in positions, and surely the water can swallow them entirely if they so desired. Not yet, not yet. Not until Mai proves to her wolf that she, too, can utter words replete with affection. She brings their lips close again, and watches her through a lidded gaze, speaks to her in a low, seductive hush.]
Cellinia, I miss you. I miss you so much, I don't think I can last another day without you. I'd do anything to feel you again, whatever you want, whatever it takes⊠please? The ache is just too much for me to handleâŠ
[Convincing enough? The honeyed words almost drown her sharp edges in their thick sweetness, and the plea in her eyes is well-trained enough to fool a softer heart. Her wolf, she can tell, is better than that, smarter than anyone else that Mai might've played her games withâ had they entertained her for long enough, anyway. She's proud of herself for this little display, even if it comes at the expense of dredging up a pathetic neediness from the recesses of her heart.
At last, their lips meet. A swift kiss, light, like a small prize claimed for a victory she isn't sure is fully her own. They can share it, a single kiss, while so many more wait for their boldness to overwhelm the final fragments of reason. Yet there is little that is reasonable about Mai's self-satisfaction in this moment. Is that so terrible? This exchange of theirs has her rather enthusiastic about the ways that they plan on ruining each other.]
Butâ that's never going to happen. Because I'm not letting you break free.
[Not from whatever restraints they'll be playing with the next time they want to test one another's limitsâ but is that the full extent of Mai's declaration? Another meaning lurks beneath her words, the shadow of them kissing the surface but not quite discernible. Can Mai construct something unbreakable to keep Cellinia in, forever?]
No, I don't think I'll ever let you escape, Cellinia.
[You can count on this this threatâ no, this vow of Mai's own, that she doesn't hesitate for a moment to make. She'll hold onto that generously-given leash like her life depends on it.]
no subject
Date: 2025-05-27 05:26 am (UTC)if they donât cause her to leave them forever, abandoning what she saw fit and living this lonely life she has full of mundane days and desires. dreams that teeter back and forth between nightmares or something empty like the void which grasps at her mind to grant a reprieve in dreamless slumber. but theyâre not here for this, not even as she feels that snarl of a growl rumbling in her throat at being provoked. taunted into her desire to do more than only give those pretty words and near marks of ownership along the body of a goddess. sheâs ravenous, sheâs more than willing to kiss her goddess in feverishly desired worship, all of it is for you, mai. the prayers she offers on the altar as her hands touch you, her mouth which feels perfect on your body. this is all for her, this is all in worship. her offering given, her offering taken before the dim moonlight which enveloped them the previous night together.
provocation is met with that burning ache, the desire to show how much of a wild animal it is that mai flirts with. the way her voice gets when she speaks, labeling her affectionately as a monster. hungering in a desire to see how sheâd make this girl into her meal and never once let go of her as promised. isnât this what you wanted, mai? the poison in her words, the affection of it and low purr of seduction while she grabs hold of her cheeks. taking her time, even, to feel along inked and blemished skin that carries so many scars of her own. like they were indeed made for one another. her hands on celliniaâs body and celliniaâs lips, which carve a mark to her very soul in those sweet threats of tender violence. what a liar she is. what pathetic girls they both are in how they dance around these promises, unwittingly made promises and vows that threaten to drag them into the metaphorical waters. reborn anew in baptismal love, lust, and desire that theyâve ignored together alone. she notices that shiver, the way mai speaks those honey eyed words like seduction.
like something more than that, she coaxes it out. she demands it, the words she wants to hear more than anything in promises of ruin while they never stop this indulgence that would grab them by the throat and choke them. send them to their end in rain, tempest, and desert alone. cellinia says nothing, but that look in her eye suggests plenty of what sheâs feeling about maiâs show. the way she offers needy promises and desires to be touched thoroughly by her lover, who she acts coy with. that swift kiss does nothing to calm the raging beast underneath her veins, the fire of arousal and demands that she stopped playing ignorant to what it is she craves more than ever to say. if this girl was going to push her this far, why not be the wolf sheâs meant to be? why not make the claim directly? surely you can, cellinia, you already swore youâd never let her go so tenderly in those darkly given vows.
vows similar to the one her lover makes about never letting go of her darling wolf, her beautiful and handsome beast that can be tipped over the edge at any time by the hands of a goddess. which is what drives her, this hunger that darkens in her eyes and how those slits seem to shrink from her restraint being tested so heavily. if she wants it, then fine. sheâll say it. sheâll say it as a beast would, a monster as her lover has affectionately labeled her when cellinia stares at this goddess who so willingly prods at instincts that most humans would run far away from for their own good.)
Then Iâll say it as a monster instead of as a human.
(she brought this on herself, how she growls out the words. a deep rumble in her throat, low and prominent. was this what you want, mai? reverent staring, a beast in your hands with all her scars and ink covered skin? whatever shall you do, whenever these words, this word alone, wonât be those pretty words of affection? no, itâd be an abandoning of reason for something that goes against it. the wolf knows it, she must know it, in how she longs to keep her in her den and never let her out again. never letting her be taken by those nameless monsters that mai often found haunting her.
so, she growls again, the purr of it echoing when she comes closer. their lips mere centimeters apart, their bodies threatening to be dragged under by the bathwater. she didnât care, she didnât care if it might drown them. thereâs only one thing sheâd grant her for this cheekiness that mai displays.)
Mine.
(cellinia breathes it out harshly, her lips greedily claiming maiâs own the moment she utters it, a simple word âmineâ. a single word, but itâs something powerful in itself. something with meaning. this isnât a claim made lightly, there was no room for argument in how the word escapes her lips. the depth of that desire is something thick, greedy, and wanting. itâs especially telling in that way this kiss so ravenous from the wolf has its own demand. she promised, she swore, sheâd never leave this lonesome goddess unblemished. that promise of ruinous intentions that she vowed is not one that could be taken back, even if cellinia or mai dared to try.
there is no return from love. not even from the vows, the darkly uttered words of blood promised if her goddess wills it. this is true worship, this is true intimacy in how it demands their bodies. this touch and this love that theyâd always play ignorant to, it didnât matter that they refused to accept that love had come from them. all they needed was something close to it in their denial, the single truth of it in how cellinia whispers again so hotly for her lover âmineâ in between impassioned kisses and breathless sighs.
theyâre close to going under, but she cares little about that. not in how those searing eyes her goddess adores stares, so wild and unrestrained. it was a mercy she held back from allowing this part of herself to slip out, itâs only not now that mai had decided in her greed that she demands it. what a greedy goddess, wanting this fearsome side of her handsome wolf to come out for her. to coax it into being rightfully within her hands. another side that belonged to this goddess.
but it wouldnât teach her to stop, no, this greedy goddess would only want more of her. the feverish claim, the way she kisses her like she never had been keen on sharing or letting her go from this den. if she intends to lock away a wild beast, then cellinia wonât let her do that without taking her goddess with her in how their near submerged bodies are pressed together. one pull would drag them under, a single push if either dares to take it until they rise again for air from this baptism and vows theyâve traded.
sheâs still a considerate beast, though, in how cellinia allows for mai to choose. drown them both in this kiss before the inevitable, where they lose themselves again, or to coax her into leaning back into the tub again. to take what they both are demanding in how their blood runs hotter, how arousal burns stronger than ever, in what promises of ruin theyâre giving to one another.)
Mine....
(she whines out, growls it like a present for her lover in how breathless she sounds. cellinia must be losing it, if thatâs all she can say. if all she can do is give into baser instincts while her hands, wet and everything, reaches for her loverâs thighs. she might even intend to lift her up like this, carry her out of the tub for more convenience than it could offer them and the insatiable greed that theyâve felt. )
All mine.
(is this what you wanted, mai? if it wasnât, then youâve found yourself obtaining it. sheâll never stop saying it and granting her this special privilege, this right of being claimed directly from her lips. she wonât stop. greedy goddess, sheâs only ever going to take her body in these reverent touches and marks of worship.
this is her vow, in exchange for her own promise to never let her escape.
a vow which is driven by a single urge, a single word, to remind her if she is going to provoke the beast before her that she only knows and believes one thing: sheâs hers. only hers, nothing will stop her from having her.)
no subject
Date: 2025-05-28 12:43 pm (UTC)Within this lonely den now fashioned into an altar of its own, this goddess reaches out her greedy hands to claim every last prayer she harvests from her most devoted beast, body and soul. Mai touches her like she is the one who desires to make her own claims of ownership. She holds Celliniaâ hands dripping holy water along her cheeks like a veritable blessingâ holds her as if she dares her to shy away from a worship that might dash away her nightmares for good. Oh, how Mai knows, she knows that these prayerful kisses are all for her. That there is the antidote to her heart's suffering in the poison of their strange affection for one another. And she knows that her own absolution lies in the fiery passions that only a provoked beast can wield in her blood-drenched claws.
Doesn't she do it so well, Cellinia? Ignite the more baser side of you, the one that compels you to do away with everything polite and reasonable, everything sweet and respectable? For a girl who shrinks at the terrifying entities taunting her outside of these walls, cruelly demanding that she beholds them with her unlucky eyes, Mai seems to have acquired a unique taste for the perilous hunger in Cellinia's wild gaze, impatient to devour her. Is this all it takes, simply recognizing the monster that she might have preferred to keep at bay for the sake of not frightening away her lovely goddess?
Goodâ show it all to her, Cellinia. Embrace that monster, yes, leave behind your humanity for a spell. When have humans ever done any good, after all? Funny, that Mai feels safer in the arms of a wolf than in the shadows of her own kinsmen, that she might even feel more at peace submerged beneath the tepid waters of this bath than forgotten in the familiar halls of a grand estate. Despite how badly that fearful little voice in the back of her mind might want to cling to her always, refusing to be washed away forever in this curious ritual of devotion, the heat between her and Cellinia burns with such a ferocity that it nearly snuffs out whatever might be crying out to Mai in self-preservation.
'No,' it begs her, 'no, don't look at her, don't look, she really is a monsterâ'
But Mai doesn't heed this voice, not this time, and not ever again, if she can help it. She doesn't close her eyes, not when Cellinia practically looms over her, now, so close to kissing her, and thenâ and then, she says it. 'Mine'. Mai feels as though, for the briefest of moments, her heart stops, the air in her lungs frozen despite the fire of their mutual desire being fanned recklessly when Cellinia finally closes the scant distance between them with a ravenous kiss. This is it, the greed of a beast who has been pushed too far, taunted and prodded to her limits despite her best efforts to behave. Because, that is what Mai wished for, isn't it? For them to bare their more unsightly sides to one another, daring the other to look away, close their eyes because the view is just too horrid to withstand?
They kiss as if it is the last one they might share, desperate and deep and messy. Mai can taste it, the gravity of this single word, the utter possession of it as Cellinia repeats it breathlessly whenever they do part for air. There truly is no return from love, or from whatever love may disguise itself as to sneak past their quickly-crumbling walls.]
Oh, yeah?
[Yet no matter how incredulous Mai tries to sound, her eyes are bright and eager at hearing how hotly her lover repeats this spell of possession over her. Perhaps she only has herself to blame, for daring to suggest that she would want to be so thoroughly owned and kept by her handsome and dangerous wolf. If so, then why not happily take the blame? Why not bask in the glory of being so desired that Cellinia can hardly speak anything else? That voice in Mai's head might even dare to call herself pathetic, for feeling so elated that someone might want to claim her, and gladly so. Years of rejection and loathing and neglect have ruined her, and the wounds of these crimes are weeping with joy that she might actually be worthy of being needed so ardently. She doesn't careâ let her be pathetic, let her drown in her own misery if it means that she can be reborn as something perfect, and for Cellinia's keeping.]
We'll see about that.
[Her heart practically slams against her ribcage, as if clamoring for Cellinia to hear how feverishly she wishes to belong to her, and only her, until the end of time. How awful, how terrible, that they can't simply melt into one anotherâ it would be so easy for Cellinia to possess every last bit of her if they could. As it is now, Mai is only too painfully aware of how separate they are, where her own body ends and Cellinia's begins. Her thighs squeeze reflexively against the sides of her lover's waist, the nerves beneath her flesh aching when she feels those strong hands steadying upon them. She wouldn't mind, not in the slightest, to have even more pretty bruises there to admire later on. Because that's what it means, no? To be all hers⊠]
We'll see just how far you'll go for me.
[It scares her, in the best of ways, the thought of what Cellinia wouldn't do to keep Mai within her den, within her armsâ no, her very heart. Much like the previous night, she finds her mind clouded with the dark ecstasy of imagining the price to be paid for this wolf to lay claim to the goddess she has chosen to dedicate this altar of devotion to. Slowly, slowly, the idea might grow on her, shedding the fear of what it might mean for Mai to give her that word. For now, though, she's content to use it as fuel to feed her own wicked urges.]
Kiss meâ kiss me more. Kiss me like I'm yours.
[Likewise, Mai's own voice takes on a needy whine of its own as she makes her own plea. She pulls Cellinia closer against her, and she's nearly enveloped in the water first. The smile gracing her lips is uncaring of if they dip beneath the surface completely, together. Follow her, Cellinia, and she'll drag you to her depths. Kiss her, claim her, and she'll haunt your every second once she has drowned for your beastly greed. She has made her choice, and isn't it such a beautiful sight to behold?]
no subject
Date: 2025-05-30 01:10 am (UTC)that their sins are not what makes them, what makes them is here, in front of them. a goddess who greedily takes the prayers offered by her beloved devoteeâs lips while holding her fair skinned cheeks in her hands. the water which drips down a blessing, their bodies close and demanding to melt them together. searing heat, hungry lips, an addiction to an affection that would have avoided their worlds until their last days. there was nothing that could stop it now that theyâve found one another, attempting such a thing would only cause this devoted wolf to trample those poor souls who thought themselves capable. they were not. cellinia wouldnât give them the pleasure of success, not even for those nameless monsters who thought they could keep a claim on her lover. oh, theyâd learn she does not share. not in their wildest dreams. those hands of hers are bloody for a reason, she isnât afraid to cut them to pieces or to prove why sheâs every bit a monster. mercy isnât something for them, mercy would be granted only to those that her goddess saw fit. and then sheâd treat her so tenderly in apologies, worship again and prayers from her lips that her beloved goddess would forgive her devotee. this handsome devotee who would be on her knees in prayer, a slow worship as her tongue tastes every drop of forgiveness in her sighs.
she does it too well, prodding at instincts that she tries to ignore for the sake of her beloved goddess. this greedy girl who found herself demanding it. this is your punishment, mai. in how she purrs out growls, deep from her throat and demanding. a hunger thatâs ignited, merciless and unable to get enough in how much she wants to devour her. her moans are fed to her, deep and needy. music it must be to her ears in how she sounds so desperate, how those hands of hers are gripping tight on her thighs in their firm touch. she doesnât let go, she only kisses her reverently. her desperation and desire, her refusal to settle for anything less than claiming this goddess who made a terrible mistake in prodding her wolf like this. she doesnât restrain it, much less the urge to treat her goddess to more time spent being treated to her generous worship.
humanity is only a shackle to a beast, but as befitting the punishment for your crime, itâs only fitting that the beast devours everything offered. her eyes wild, the monster in full flare from their closeness. that desire to melt together into being one is there again, itâs a pity that they couldnât while a small part of their minds calls them pathetic for falling like this. love has found its way in, all by mixing with their lust. their never-ending urge to keep going, to keep pressing buttons and refusing to back down from a challenge thatâs presented before them. celliniaâs gaze holds no semblance of mercy, in the sense of it offering the love of a beast and how hungry she must be. the wildness to those searing eyes that her goddess adores, her deserved punishment to see and feel how perfect her mouth feels on her lips.
on her skin, on places so sensitive, while her hands latch on to her body. to her, this goddess who had brought out something she shouldnât have dared to. monster, she is a monster. sheâs known this for a while now in how the wolf does not fit in more by appearance, by urges when they flare to teach someone a lesson. humanity has only itself to blame when this monster finds the need to behave like one. this beast of yours, darling goddess, can you hear the way she utters that word with desperation?
mine, she says, mine.
the demand and claim of ownership, while giving her that leash sheâs refusing to let go of. this goddess is only hers. the wolf thinks that in the more animalistic part of her mind, the baser instincts which threaten to consume them both. only she would worship her body, only the wolf would be her ever devoted knight and beast. willing to sink her teeth in the skin of nameless monsters, willing to tear them apart with her bloodied claws while letting out something frightening. they could not stop her. they wouldnât ever stop her from having this greedy goddess that her ever adoring devotee could only ever give her everything to. why not give in, why not even let her feel how the wolfâs heart pounds in her chest from their closeness. their bodies cry out in desire, a desire for the flame within them to be satisfied from how intense their lust feels.
again, she challenges her. but the wolf knows, this goddess is a liar who lies when it suits her and when itâs evident that she wants something. she can see it in maiâs eyes, she can feel it in her words. she wants that. to be hers, to belong to a beast who would never allow her if she could help it to be taken again by those bastards who haunt her thoughts. theyâd never see the light of day again, their corpses would be left as a reminder that wolves do not take such things lightly when they desire someone. if they want someone to be their mate, they will take them without a second thought. mai, oh you poor goddess, she wouldnât allow her to think otherwise about how serious she is on this.
her growls rumble in her throat deep moans into their kiss, the refusal and desperation to not part is so pathetic of cellinia that they might as well both embrace it as fact. theyâre pathetic girls. so helplessly pathetic in how they respond to the idea of owning and being owned one another, so foolishly ignoring what it means to do such a thing. there is only one way that could end, that is with loveâs grasp on them growing stronger. misery shall remain, but they would replace the depressing memories with something brighter and sweeter. something that could be more beautiful than the twisted thorns that are wrapped around them, around their hearts.
when mai pulls her in closer, in all her neediness and desire, cellinia follows her down. down into the water, her lips never parting from maiâs own and eyes half-lidded while feeling the way her lover smiles. she enjoys this, she wants this with them both drowning in the water as everything fades. the only thing that cellinia focuses on is mai, mai alone while theyâre both down below in the bathwater. their bodies near mingling, their tongues seeking the other as though they had all the time in the world. itâs easy to become lost this way, forgetful that they are still human. perhaps for a spell forgetting that air is something theyâd need, or maybe these two pathetic girls believe that this kiss would sustain them like the air they need. there was no answer to that question, but that isnât something to worry about. it might not ever be. she kisses mai with every part of that soul of hers.
bared for her, made desperately hungry and wanting. she doesnât look away from the ugliness of her heart, her poor rotten heart that only had half of it remain. cellinia saw no reason to look away, not even to fear it. sheâs by no means an angel, not even a saint or someone with more chivalrous intentions in mind from some things sheâs done as an excuse. sheâs only a pathetically hopeless monster, falling for her prey and wanting to keep her forever in this lonely den turned altar for them.
the seconds tick on by, her lungs burn, oh theyâre so close to being one together. who needed to breathe when they have each other? sadly, she did, they both did. when the seconds turned to minutes of shared breaths and giving one another their greed as it intensified, cellinia eventually, brings them back to the surface together. sheâs gasping, water trails down that curtain of black and red hair. her lungs are thankful that her self-preservation won out before it got to be too late. she was too willing to go further, even if it meant that they both might have died had she not brought herself to reality. to what would be their future not ending before it had ever begun. those wild eyes of her eyes are searing, devoted and staring as she heaves out the harshest of sighs from how lost she became.
was that enough, mai? was it? she would give her another show if she could have of her devotion before satisfying this greed of theirs. this eternal greed that seeps into their reality, the world which they have as of now would change forever. that is guaranteed when the wolf wonders dimly if she ought to move them, her sense of reason is there enough to recognize that a bathtub would be uncomfortable. however, she also doubts theyâd reach her bedroom again knowing that the sheets had only just been changed.)
Youâre mine, only mine.
(the wolf breathes it out slowly, the torturous and hungering silence ends in how harsh she must sound. how guttural and desperate.)
no subject
Date: 2025-05-31 07:11 am (UTC)It is a question that lingers, unanswered, as her eyes flutter shut the second that Cellinia carefully urges them both beneath the water. The mild warmth envelops her, grazing her cheeks as it passes over her flesh. How pleasant, how primal, this feeling of warmth and security, where little else matters save for her singular lifeline. An unmatched heat grows between the their lips, in this kiss that robs them of breath but bestows upon them a rebirth they weren't certain they had deserved until now. And they deserve it, don't theyâ these lovers who would take one another to such depths without realizing how irreversibly it will claim them? There is no good in entertaining the old, worn images of themselves that they've carried with them for so long. Within this kiss in an invitation to unburden themselves of the ghosts that keep them from taking even a single step forward, together.
It's as if every terrible voice in Mai's mind is smothered completely with each passing moment that their lips claim one another's, that their tongues caress in slick, languid motions. Against the silence that devours them in this ritual of mutual devotion, she allows herself to be pulled even deeper into Cellinia's possession.
Mine, mine mineâŠ
Those are the only words that flood the vast emptiness that has long-since made itself home within Mai's being. Though they belong to Cellinia, who speaks her vows as gallantly as if she were always destined for the path of this corrupted knight, Mai feels this spell draw itself from her own weary heart, cleaved in two. These words might be the end of her, one day. They might be the reason she stares down death wearing a face unfamiliar to her nightmare-plagued mind. Right, when it appears before her, it will wear the most beautiful face while it casts these most beautiful words over her spellstruck soul.
Shall they surprise death itself by hastening towards an end of their own? The tepid water welcome these lovers as they forsake the very air they breathe in favor of a kiss that is more charged with life than any other manner of sustenance that might have kept their miserable lives going before they found one another. With this act, they can excise yet another part of themselves that cannot remain if this love is to bloom, and kill it themselves before death's outstretched hand can lay its icy claim.
If such audacity is a crime, then of course this is her punishment. And Mai has always deserved it, to be punished so soundly for everything that she is and everything that she has done. Everyone believes as much, anyway. It is the curse upon their lips at the mere sight of her, no matter how beautiful she might be, their keener eyes see something condemnable and lacking within her. And, beloved wolfâ you see it, too, don't you? Though a different manner of lack, an emptiness only you can replenish through your own bloodied promises. You see something that they cannot, and never will. Yet before you carve out their faithless, loathsome eyes yourself, you may turn your welcomed judgment first upon this willful goddessâ this liar of a girl whose biggest crime is believing that the beast she dares to tame is but a dream she fears awakening from.
So, dole out this punishment, Cellinia. Make her pay every last price she owesâ for tormenting you to this point of breaking, and for lying so blatantly in her haughty words, while her lonely eyes betray the truth to your steadfast gaze. She wants to be yours, just as she wants you to be hers. Yet Mai knows, between a pitiful human and a proud beast, the scales shall always tip in favor of willâ and if Cellinia truly wills it, Mai won't fathom fighting back.
How badly would she even have struggled against her passionate wolf, had she decided to keep them beneath the water's surface for a handful of seconds longer? She had always figured that she'd perish at the hands of a monster. This wouldn't be too terrible of an end, all things considered. But Cellinia decides to spare her, spare them both, and clutch to the possibility of further moments in each other's company. When Mai opens her eyes again, the sight before her looks more bright, more brilliant. Cellinia, who still holds her close, looks almost holy beneath the warm lighting. And how splendid her gasping sounds to Mai's earsâ she sounds alive, marvelously so, the mouth that had nearly claimed her soul in their kiss now daring to claim her in words as she watches her beneath the rivulets of water streaming from her dark hair.
Likewise, Mai's own lungs smart at their reckless indulgence. Against Cellinia's lips, she laughs, the sounds broken and breathless as they mingle in with her own desperate gasping. Her mind is hazy and almost far away in a manner she doesn't quite mind, the near-dangerous lack of oxygen only adding to the mild delirium from their stint underwater.]
Mm-hmmâŠ
[Even this hum of agreement is made hoarse in her attempt to catch her breath, but what her voice cannot fully convey, her eyes are only too willing to make up for in their glimmering enthusiasm. Yes, she shall only belong to this greedy wolf, and she's more than fine with it. The exhilaration of living after flirting with a beautiful demise has her rather amenable to whatever her lover might demand of her.
Letting Cellinia bear the brunt of her weight in her ever-sturdy arms, Mai simply keeps herself latched onto her lover with her own arms draped around her neck. She combs her fingers through the strands of red-black, coaxing them neatly over Cellinia's shoulders as she does. Her own hair must look a right mess, but she doesn't have it in her to care all that much. Mai doesn't even bother to blink away the droplets of water that catch onto her dark eyelashes. Even Cellinia might be able to savor the sight of her goddess in such a state, cheeks flushed and body shaking as she steadies her breathing.]
A real monster would have ended me.
[Any cheekiness in her claim is muted heavily beneath the breathlessness with which she utters it. In fact, the way she looks up at Cellinia is almost appreciative, a good-natured teasing dancing beneath the sweet way in which she kisses the edges of her lips.]
I should be thankful, right?
[Mai murmurs against her skin, her tone making her seem almost pliant, eager to please. It's far from the demeanor she would have donned for those monsters back home, true monsters. Less put-on, and much less embittered. She wouldn't feel disgust with herself after, that much is for certain. For she is thankful, for a multitude of things that she probably shouldn't be, but there's no way out of the wolf's den, is there? One of her hands finds it's way palming over Cellinia's collar, her fingertips gliding down her sternum in a show of affection.]
Express my gratitude to you somehow⊠right?
[Another laugh, less breathless this time, and her usual nerve pokes its way back in just a little. After all, a show of gratitude is something you would expect of your possession, right? Good manners, a brand of devotion all her own in exchange for the mercy shown here. Cellinia may be a monster, but she strikes a different kind of fear into Maiâ the kind that dares not imagine this being their only moment together. Yes, a fear of love, this curious duality that mingles as easily as their own bodies do in one another's embrace.
And Mai knows all too well, that every exchange ought to be measured carefully for the debt to be repaid. Sins and punishment, prayers and blessingsâ let them be absolved of the desperation that lies beneath their union.]
no subject
Date: 2025-06-02 10:47 am (UTC)her body is held close to her, the brunt of her weight against the wolf as they share their breaths in this tender embrace fueled by delirium and how they near kissed death itself. flirting with it while their bodies would have sunk together, ended by the monster that is known as love all too soon in their wretched lives. their jaded hearts which had wept in their long since past days of childhood innocence, there was no return to that and the whims of children who desire love most. all that it gets them is punished for living. but thatâs not what happened here now, is it? she gave her goddess that punishment she asked for. she gave her a life reborn as they do away with what once had been them. past selves, past lives, and whatever else had haunted them as nameless monsters and named monsters had hoped to keep their claws sunk deep in the thorns that encase them. they didnât belong to those nameless bastards, they only need to call out to one another and do away with the nightmares plaguing them to a touch so tender that it brings them life anew.
because it did little good to let themselves think of those monsters. the wolf, she hears the words, she feels the brush of her loverâs lips against the corner of her mouth. how she murmurs into her skin with a hoarse rasp and brush of her hand trailing down her sternum, the palming of it along her collar while those beautifully inked arms rest around her lover. she holds her closely, so closely that she feels her heart within her chest while her goddess speaks. her cheekiness is there, though blunted, how she speaks of expressing gratitude and being thankful for her beast of a devotee sparing them what would have been a beautiful demise. amber eyes rest on hazel, their closeness searing as the urge is there to kiss her throughout the day and pretend that they did not have a reality to return to beyond this little slice they cut themselves. this is what reality should be, a dream which they would never have alone again with the desire to give into the ruin of this poisonous affection.
cellinia for her part doesnât dare to release her lover, not her goddess who she kisses idly and breathless. languid, slow, and even like sheâs thinking about her words. about how she mentioned that a real monster would have ended them both. no, sheâs right. they both would have drowned had it not been for that humanity. the wolf, sheâs not a true monster despite the way she carries herself and may seem while theyâre here alone. she could be something nasty, something fierce and wild to the point of others steering clear for their own safety. they did not want to know what sheâs capable of.)
Would you like to?
(she murmurs it, the question, the question on her mind while one hand trails along the small of her loverâs back. their lips barely parted in this little space that they have together. ah, she must seem so needy for you, goddess. with or without being pressed into letting out something so beast like. her hands are an instrument of demise, but they rest so beautifully along her skin. in all the ways that bloodied hands can be gentle while granting a lover something so tender that it kills the monster, and oh, how it feels for her heart to be so easily within the grasp of a goddess that doesnât know what she holds. a devoted knight who doesnât know what it is that she offers and holds in tender reverence.)
Would you like for me to take you from this tub and touch you again so tenderly, for you to touch me again?
(be mine, her gaze says. be mine, never again will someone else have you, mai. those monsters would fade forever into the white noise. they didnât need to exist, sheâd easily end them when the time comes, if ever. sheâd end them so beautifully for you, while wishing to grant upon you an embrace so tender that it would be frightening. nobody could earn such a reaction from a monster. a monster who slowly begins again, to kiss her upon her lips, whose tongue brushes against her loverâs lips while they embrace within the space of this tub. inside water that is losing its heat while they forget again what it was they were supposed to be doing. that they had set out to clean themselves and carry on in a different change to their dreary lives. the lives of wretched sinners who had lost so much. hopeless, jaded, and never again to be seen as pure in the eyes of the world.
is there anything better than the love of a beast? is there anything sweeter than the way the monster would embrace you? the truth is, there isnât. nothing comes as beautiful, as desirable as that. this monster would dare to keep her forever, beyond forever while setting fire to what once was her life under those nameless monsters that do not deserve to be near this altar. this sacred place her love deems her safety and shield from the world. cellinia is only too happy to oblige to that want with her arms around her, she would not do anything less than behave as beautifully as a corrupted knight could. a knight that is not like any other in this path to wonderful ruin. to their hearts shared, mending one another into one while everything that once destroyed them seems so far away. beyond their ears, their grasp.
because it did not have to own them any longer, cellinia does not desire anything more than this goddess she so tenderly reveres to be hers. to never allow her to be left wanting, without anything that she could truly call her own. that is what it means to be owned by this beast and to own her, to hold her leash to her chest while their nights are spent full of a ruinous love that many would be afraid of touching. beautiful, dangerous, and so tender that it could rot away those pricked by the thorns that come together in their souls.)
Tell me, what do you want, Mai?
(the needy way she says it, the needy prayer. how does she want her devoted beast to worship her, and how does she want to be worshiped if they leave this tub for another altar to be their own? how does she want her handsome wolf to kiss her, to kiss her body in places that no other soul would touch or see. or would she want something visible, something to be seen and wear proudly as a gift that belonged to her from this devotee that she has in her hands? sheâs too willing to do all of it. between the slow and languid kisses, the steadying of her breathing as heat courses through her body.
what must she do, to give her the world and keep her in this den? to entrap and will away old festering wounds, to remove barbed thorns from them as they begin again a life that would change them. that life would ends what once was their past and brings in a future which could even destroy them more, as love does. sweet and torturous love. how beautiful it is, how radiant and yet they blind themselves to it in the way cellinia has a taste for her lover that goes beyond what one would deem suitable for a corrupt and hopeless knight like her. but she isnât very knightly for someone so chivalrous now, sheâs anything but suitable for the word in how sheâd take advantage of it because she felt a certain way. mainly to bring ruin upon those who were inexcusable for their actions and more than that.)
Tell me, how tender do you want my kiss, for me to kiss along your skin and taste you while we both never let go of our greed?
(tender poison, tender words and such a needy whine, do you like hearing this mai? how she wants to know what you want? that sheâd even desire to hear how much you might want her to make love to you? sheâd do it in a heartbeat, she wouldnât stop until that greed had some manner of satisfaction to it for a time. there was no helping that. this is what shall be the future, the love of a greedy beast and her greedy goddess who wants to own and tame her to be hers alone.
itâs only fitting. this is what shall be what makes and unmakes them, as it had been decided from the start since their first kiss and the tender touch of this wolf who was anything but a true knight.)
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