[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.)
[If Mai could drink in Cellinia's pretty offerings of affection to her heart's content, then her soul would never again feel the pang of thirst. Under the weight of this lovely deluge, she still has yet to find her footing, as if the tiniest of worrisome sparks softly cautions her against getting swept away in how easily Cellinia seems to make her promises. Anything that might feed the ever-hungry greediness that links them both can be Mai's, so long as she accepts what this worshiper sets at her altar. If this affair is to truly become anything worthwhile, anything lasting, Mai will have to get used to itâ to saying 'yes', making her own decisions, and giving the final word that would write the story where her desires are made manifest, rather than languishing pathetically only in her fantasies.
Closing her eyes momentarily to Cellinia's brilliant beauty, and still awaiting her own breath to catch up with the pleas of her spinning mind, Mai does her own mulling over the choices laid out so temptingly in front of her. All of them are deliciously promising, the best use of their dwindling hours left together before this sojourn comes to a close. Moreover, they've made the smallest bit of progress, not letting another bathing endeavor go completely to wasteâ they've earned a bit of misbehaving, no? Perhaps this is Mai's troublemaking mind coaxing her to shoo away the more reasonable response of declining and demanding that they tidy up and go about their day. She could very well demur to the suggestion of getting delightfully messy again with Cellinia's relentless cooperationâ but even a petty liar like Mai has her limits.]
Cellinia.
[Rather than a chastising flavor to her tone that she had intended, Mai breathes out her lover's name with an almost airy impatience, a soft groan following her utterance while she indulges in the kisses that Cellinia so slowly, so readily offers her. This wolf's hands are sweetly, frustratingly, at home upon the small of her back, and if they both get their way, these same ruinous hands will swiftly ensure that no part of Mai's body is foreign to them any longer, come the moment they finally bid each other farewell.]
Here I am, trying to repay you, and you already can't wait to get your hands on me again.
[Whatever is she to do with such a needy beast? The very same who had rescued her from death's kiss while desiring to bring her to a different kind of endâ one delightfully dark enough to have even the reaper itself blush at how devastating Cellinia promises to be. She asks Mai what she wants, but surely she must relish the fact that she already knows exactly what that is. From Mai's own lips, perhaps in her own brand of earnest desperation, Cellinia wants to hear these cravings given life. That she would even plead for it with such a pretty whine coloring her words, her own portion of their exchangeâ she wants Mai to tell her, does she? She longs to hear that Mai wants to dedicate her own body for the art that Cellinia wishes to make, a masterpiece of the most wondrous and most curious of monsters that Mai has ever had in her grasp.
Of course, Mai as no intention of rolling over without lay her own claimâ she wants to bury herself in her lover's ecstasy, feel her shudder again so prettily beneath her roaming hands, and bask in the music of Cellinia's pleasure, herself. Her wolf can't be the only one satisfying her greed, here, and love is best made when they've both been reduced to their most raw and vulnerable, not a single shred of affection concealed in their eyes brimming with relief at the very end.]
Careful with that generosity of yours.
[Leaving the rhythmic beating at Cellinia's chest, Mai's hand moves to give her ears a tender caress to soften the warning she teasingly gives. Her palm carefully smooths over the damp fur, not lingering for too long despite her growing penchant for lavishing them with attention. How cute they are, reactive for herâ how many others enjoy taking such liberties with this wolf's body? Oh, that must be jealousy that swells and rolls over her. It's an utterly loathsome feeling, truly, for it rarely leads to Mai feeling as special as she imagines herself to be.
In this moment, though, with her knuckles now softly grazing Cellinia's cheekbone, Mai decides that her claim is just as good as anyone else's who might want to indulge in this handsome wolf's addicting devotion.]
I don't know what I'd do if someone else wants to take advantage of it.
[Perhaps her possessive streak isn't conveyed as poetically as her lover's is, but Mai makes it clear that the thought of anyone else enjoying the privileges that she's only just been introduced to is more than a little bothersome to her. But that should be a thrill of it's own, no? Knowing that her goddess is far from some aloof deity, uncaring where her devotee makes her prayers or to whom. Rather, there's a very human facet making its demands known: Mai shall undoubtedly be yours, Cellinia, only yours and no one else's. But through this ownership, you likewise relinquish yourself to her possession, and she'll not share even the smallest crumb of affection with any other hopeful.
Before she acquiesces to Cellinia's request, she takes her kisses and hums happily now that she's made her position clear. By now, she can tell that the water is becoming too cool for her enjoyment. Getting out seems a fine enough choiceâ they might not make it far, but Mai promises not to complain too much if where they'll end up isn't as comfortable as a freshly-made bed.]
Don't worry, I'll gladly tell you what I wantâ spoil me rotten with those kisses of yours, Cellinia. Wherever you want to leave them, I won't stop you. I'll even be as greedy as you need me to be.
[And with this deal they'll strike, the debt she owes to her benevolent monster will be repaid, will it not? Demand it of her, Cellinia. Demand this greed of Mai's, push her to the point where she doesn't know how to be anything other than insatiable when it comes to your touch, your ever-hungry lips, and your piercing eyes that shall never let her flee from you.]
And then I'll just keep asking for everything, until you've got nothing left to give.
[Never will Mai become a beast in her own right, not even her wildest dreams. The best she might ever be able to do is don its ravenous attributes like a luxurious piece of fineryâ though it would only be a mere pelt of a beast, if her lover could find it in herself to share. But if Cellinia would humor her, indulge her, then she can experience a greed that shall pick her bones clean, and feel the breathless sensations of being devoured with an earnestness unmatched by any other lover.]
(it feels too easy to get swept up by the storm, the offerings of affection and promises of something so poisonous. that never again would they go without what feels like love while giving into greediness and lustful desires. she doesnât give such offerings without thinking, but maybe she found herself unable to help how this feeling sways her. this wasnât love is a mantra often whispered to herself, this couldnât be love. love which graces them together in lust and greed. this affection and hunger that felt bottomless when cellinia had her eyes all on mai. it wasnât a bad suggestion now, was it? they had more than enough time to spend these remaining hours on another altar where their bodies meet again. this is no simple offering, the offering of choice and freedom past what she was used to from the nameless demons and their endless desire to drag under what remains of her poor soul and heart. half a soul, half a heart, and hardly any chance in their attempts at ruining a girl in such a way that it causes a monster, a beast, to give her kindness that humanity saw fit to abandon. to grant her mercy that they claim above them to ever give her. mercy as a concept is something that beasts do not, if ever, indulge in by their own wish to never tie themselves down to humanity.
not all are the same, not all are willing to shed away the pelt of being one to give something more than inhumanity and cruelty that can be considered frightful to the extent of avoidance while one goddess is fascinated by a beast and her love. it's a beautiful thing. the offerings of affection and it's darker promises in vows uttered with such violence at her lover's fingertips when she finds herself ready to give her wolf the word that she longs for freedom. that her goddess aches for the comfort of this den and it's oaths of safety, protection, and something holy that it makes her ache at their inevitable parting in how much she desires it. what she calls a brilliant beauty could be better said about mai to cellinia, they didnât have their attempt at bathing as much of a waste as the last time. though that changes little, bathing alone in the future when the other is so close and near would feel like torture. torture which has its own means of gripping them by the throat.
she sounds so impatient, waiting must be killing her lover. by that sound of it, cellinia finds it unsurprising that mai could not muster the strength to mock chastise her for this insatiable greed. but thatâs fine, impatience is something mutual. the wolf is impatient in how she resists the urge to carry on in this lukewarm water. it would be easy to prop her up in the corner, but that wouldnât be comfortable for her goddess now after her previous attempts at being a considerate lover. no, such impatience is better reserved for another time and place. a bathtub would not do for them in how theyâre both unable to help themselves. not even in the way that the wolf keeps those beautiful eyes on mai. not a single hint of anything except the hunger, the desire, that reverent look she gives her. longing and desire are a main part of their worship in how she brings her goddess in this den to whatever destination she pleases as part of that maze they navigate.
it wonât be much longer before they part, the needy parts of themselves know it to be true in how they couldnât help it. why would they want to part, to count those agonizing days, hours, minutes, and seconds until they reunite? they wouldnât. repayment is something that should be offered by both, for one did almost drag them down into the depths together in an affair that the reaper would have found utterly depressing of their buried down desire for this poison called love. the dark glimmers of it that is mixed into promises, vows, and the inability to recognize what it is thatâs driving them in this strange attraction. this knowing where they together, cause this girl to have one heart and soul again. one heart mended with the heart of another, one soul bonded to her at that moment they kissed in her car during that hot summer afternoon.)
Canât help it.
(thatâs a fact now, isnât it? she couldnât help it, not the way that her eyes are all on her. what kind of beast did she involve herself with? a monster that willingly exhausts them both in raw passion and vulnerability, until their voices find themselves fading into night? possession is a two-way street, there is no changing that. cellinia must offer herself, the same way that mai would for the wolf before her that tenderly worships her as a goddess. she hears the way her tone shifts, how her hand willfully teases those cute ears of hers that twitch in response to the brief attention that she lavishes them with. their bodies are the art that they make of one another, cellinia seeing maiâs as a more perfect canvas than her own which is covered in scars and ink. one she decorates in her kiss, her teeth which leave such lovely bite marks in places that only her goddess could touch. could ever know, truly.
she doesnât want anyone else having such delights now, does she? the wolf isnât surprised. if anything, the wolf finds it more interesting. what a greedy goddess, the greediest of lovers who knows what she wants. she wants the beast and her body to only know her hands, to know only the pleasure that she grants her most beloved devotee. the heavens above will surely hate them further for such an act of blasphemy, but it matters little in the grand scheme to a pair of sinners like them. they will sin, theyâll never stop sinning as long as they breathe. any others are only more to the pile that would burn with them. that in itself is fine. that is only part of what shall be their love driven by poisonous affection, tenderness that kills them, and vulnerability that grabs them by their poor throats as an offering for forgiveness from the heavenly rains above.
but she says nothing at first, not until she grabs hold of that very same hand that brushes its knuckles against her cheek. not even until she kisses the back of it, another act of worship in how her lips glide tenderly along the skin as if in thought about this offering her dear goddess demands. love could never stop at being something sweet and gentle, what suits them best is a love that will kill them metaphorically, figuratively as it has demands of them of its own for what shall be the price for their gravest sin. falling in love as predator and prey, predator who so clearly delights in giving a greedy goddess her demands. this is a gift for her, something that would never belong to another.
this generosity only has meaning for her goddess, any others shall never taste it. not the pure devotion she can offer her, the addicting taste of that seeps into their fleeting time together. she does not like to share, either, mai. you neednât worry on that. sheâs made that clear the whole time what she thinks of sharing you already, theyâd all pay the price if they dared to think to touch you. keeping her forever is something she promised truly, especially now that she stirred within her the beast that always prowls within her mind.)
You want me all to yourself, do you? Iâm only yours, then, give me your greed and take my body as much as you desire. Iâll do the same in kind, Mai.
(a fitting vow to her goddess, of worship into that last kiss. they wonât make it far, thatâs true. the floor is already looking better than attempting such a futile move to drag them both to her bedroom. could they be patient? thatâs a loaded question, their patience is frayed naturally by one another existing. nothing could compare to the ecstasy offered to her, this love she grants her without knowing. oh, how foolish they must be, how blind they are to not realize the truth before their very eyes when cellinia with care scoops her lover into her arms from this lukewarm water. like the goddess she is, the princess she will be as heat thrums in her veins. she wonât allow her to leave this den without dreaming of her touch, those searing amber eyes of hers which pierce into what remains of this soul she has.)
Whatâs mine is yours, all that you give me is mine in turn. So give me your greed, donât even restrain it as you touch me.
(donât even give up for a second, perhaps this might be the closest mai could ever get to being a beast. but thatâs what makes it sweeter, that the genuine beast is too willing to show her how to rightfully take what belongs to her in this sinful affair. that sheâd grant her the chance to learn to be the beast she could be in her own way by embracing freedoms that no other could ever grant her in this miserable hell that is the world they live in.
sheâll pick her bones clean, and even allow mai to wear the pelt of a monster. allow her this rarest of chances, to become something more than human. thatâs the truest of freedoms that she could ever grant in these dark and tender vows that they whisper to one another in sinful delights. these bloodied promises that shall make the stage of their love, only they would not be granted the end that girls like them could ever find themselves at for daring to dream too big. they shall go against the world, step by step, she would change the fate of this girl and would never let go of her.
this girl who has half a soul, half a heart, shall find her home within a wolf.)
[Oh, how she trembles eagerly at such mercy offered in this pact that Cellinia weaves for them with her words, a certainty in her voice that steeps this promise in a devotion that they've agreed to drink deeplyâ a covert poison or not. Indeed, a truly fitting vow, one that cuts down any dissenting voices to speak directly to Mai's greed. It speaks to the dark, frightened part of her that wants to claim and possess despite only knowing the pitiful role of an object to be bartered. It promises her a place at the zenith of desire, it tempts her with the treasure that is having this frighteningly perfect beast all to herself. Slowly but surely, it is beginning to dawn on Mai that this pinnacle is only reserved for those who can thoroughly divest themselves of whatever it is that makes them reasonable, that makes them human in this respect.
There it is, the shadow of that beautiful monster that reaches out to her, beckoning her to bury herself within its dark freedomâ Mai can see it, creeping in the searing glint of Cellinia's eyes as they watch each other while trading these last kisses. Should she take its hand and follow it to that peak, how is she sure that she won't stumble and fall all the way to the bottom again? 'Don't restrain,' Cellinia demands her, as if she can see something that Mai doesn'tâ a place for her at the top, beside this gallant wolf. And even though Mai has only ever envisioned herself nestled in the cold, unfeeling earth, content to remain at the bottom rung for the rest of her sorry life, she feels the deep ache of being offered something she knows she has always wantedâ for someone to take her with them, to hold onto her and never let her go, never let her stumble or fall, no matter how little she has to offer in return. She wanted to know what it was like to see the entire world from the top, too, even if she would never be strong enough to make it even halfway on her own.
Cellinia, that which you ask of Mai is so simple. It's clear enough, obvious enough that she knows exactly what she should do, and how she ought to do it. Though far from an expert when it comes to her new lover, she had already mapped out the places upon her body that she would most enjoy letting her greed run rampant. That part, at least, is easy enough, no? It isn't as though the act of fucking needs to be so overthought, something she thinks that Cellinia would agree with her on. So, what is it, then, that gives her momentary pause before she gives her answer? Beautiful wolf, she desires you, there isn't a single doubt about thatâ it is herself that she hesitates in the face of. She doesn't think that there's a place for her at the top, but if you believe in her, then that alone will urge her forward in making herself whole with the freedom you so generously hold out to her.]
I won't. I promise I won't hold back on you, Cellinia.
[It isn't necessarily a lie, but rather a half-truth that Mai feels compelled to delude herself into believing, if only until she is able to make it a reality with her own two hands. Her voice doesn't betray her, the tone and cadence every bit influenced by the trained confidence that has gotten her this far in life. Likewise, her own touch is firm in its resolve to give Cellinia every ounce of that greed that she demands for herself. There is only that split-second of self-doubt that flickers in her hazel gaze, snuffed away as soon as she flutters her lashes coyly to cement her own vow.
Continuing as they are in the cooling water is quickly becoming more and more bothersome. Despite how, normally, taking this adventure of theirs to the floor of the bathroom would lack the appeal of going somewhere more acceptable, their already-infamous patience (or lack thereof, really) is determined not to let them go any further than this. Perhaps this can be a task of sortsâ a proof to their budding affection that they can make an altar of any place they desired so long as their appetite for one another fuels these vows exchanged, wordless or otherwise.
There isn't a lick of resistance when Cellinia takes Mai up in her arms, the ease with which she does so serving as a silent reminder that of course a beast who had easily promised to vanquish her lover's monsters isn't troubled by an act as simple as this. The cooled air against her wet skin doesn't bother her too terribly, not when the heat of Cellinia's body still permeates from their close contact, seeping deliciously into every space that only frays her patience even more. Once again, the two of them will make a beautiful ruin of each other's body before the last drop of water evaporates from their flesh.
Any towels kept around for normal use can still soak up the dripping bathwater, just in a manner more unorthodox than intended. Cellinia's bed shall be spared another ruinous romp, for now, with the tiled floor taking its place as the stage for their truly troublesome attraction to one another. Haphazardly, the fluffy fabric will be tossed about wherever they'll decide to indulge in each other yet again. Ah, sweet wolf, will you be able to enter these rooms again and not imagine the sinful pleasures you've enjoyed in each one with your pretty little prey? Not even Mai will be able to shake the memories of how shameless she'll have behaved when spurred on at the behest of her devoted lover.]
(the words uttered are an offering, the offering for her to leave behind this miserable world that her nameless monsters had desired her to be part of. freedom. freedom offered in this poison they have decided to throw away the opportunity to take the antidote for. reason is unnecessary when it comes to being a beast, the mercy of one can have such limits that some might even be more surprised to discover that monsters could do such a thing. they didnât need to be restrained by reason, they had to let go of it more than anything. the wolf offers herself as the best treasure her goddess could ever want. her body which she claimed as her perfect canvas, her everything that makes her while offering to lead her through the maze to the center. to the top of this peak, above the cold earth to something warmer that only theyâd have together.
nobody else could have what they have, not even those nameless fools mai is afraid of. this gentle lead she takes for her would pull this goddess back from the bottom, if she were to stumble and fall on the way. perhaps even gently lead her with a sense of care beyond those that wanted nothing more than to use her. these steps taken in this dance could have clumsy missteps and moments which theyâd fall, but they did not need to worry nor restrain themselves. they would learn. stumble, fall, this wolf is here to keep you as her one and only. she didnât need to have another, what she wanted is before her whenever she realizes in the future that this went beyond what you both thought to be moments of desire fueled lust. that she could only ever want you, all to herself, that she would kill for you in reality while longing to never let go. her hands are too comfortable on her body, even as the wolf has to part long enough for those fluffy towels to be set about for more comfort on a freshly washed bathmat. the bathmat itself was soft and fluffy, but she is not going to allow her goddess to not have additional comforts. floor or not, they can make another ruinous altar from her bed some other time.
itâs only when sheâs done that cellinia reaches, reaches to brush her fingers against maiâs cheek. tracing it slowly down to her neck, her collar, along those bruises and teeth marks that she left on her ribs. that she settles on top of her, a searing admiration in those eyes even as she notices that momentary doubt or thought she saw something. whatever doubts you might have, dear goddess, would fade given time. sheâs thinking about all the places she wants to carve her mark into down to your soul. the places that would only be known by her when her fingers pause, along her stomach where they brush against the skin slowly in thought. she could give her a show, a show in which sheâd be in her rightful place between her legs. but at the same time, thereâs something more intimate in kissing her goddess while granting her a worship that only her fingers could in every caress that sheâd feel within her. she decides that her mouth can be used to worship some other time. sheâll drink deep of her essence in the pleasures offered when desired most as her lips find their place against her loverâs pulse point, a scrape of teeth between each kiss and suckle of it.)
Good girl, you deserve a reward yourself, donât you?
(another mark, another place claimed as hers, even as she breathes those lovely words out against it hotly. another precious spot that could kill if she was not a merciful creature. she displays such mercies without a second thought, without thinking in how her hand is paused, her searing gaze as reverent as it does have that silent question to it. on if sheâd permit her sweet wolf to touch her again. she wonât act without her lover deciding the tempo, the lovely goddess who is being given the freedom for such things as she deserves. the wolf, her gallant wolf hungers, and sheâd be a liar herself if she didnât give her goddess every drop of touch and desire that she could ever want. holding herself back is only a struggle that is all the sweeter for what it gives as a reward.
she only wants you, lovely goddess. she could only ever desire this with you in how her lips glide along your neck, against the column of your throat. she must look so beautiful, the way her eyes glance up at her with a desire to memorize her expressions like she had the first time. she wants to see every twitch of pleasure, the way that mai sighs with each reverent touch on this makeshift altar of theirs. they can ruin it together, commit a blasphemy that heaven itself would turn away from while condemning them to this hell that awaits them in the future where their lives are so intertwined that nothing could dream of separating their bound hearts and souls from how deep theyâd have fallen together.
that is what awaits them, that isnât going to change.
what would change is the way that their fates are bound together, one would do anything for the other. sheâd give her goddess the world, the sun, the moon that blesses them, and the stars. the moon itself might even wrap them in its silver sheen while keeping safe their young hearts, whatâs left of them while allowing their cries of worship to be the offering it requires. those soft sighs, the sounds of their moans like songs alone when they lose all reason to greedy indulgence and desire. just like now in how cellinia finds another spot to kiss a mark into, another unblemished spot that she licks into to soothe between each kiss, each scrape of teeth and suckle of her mouth. she never will stop thinking about the things they've done, not after last night and now. she might even keep thinking about her, about everything done on these makeshift altars of sinful desires.)
[For someone who finds herself giving in all the more deeply to the addiction of being worshippedâ this goddess, in the eyes of her wild loverâ Mai can quietly boast being a rather good follower, as well. It's a role she knows intimately, despite her efforts to unburden herself from the weight of it in favor of something more liberating, truly uninhibited. She permits Cellinia to quickly set their stage, a shiver rolling through her body before she allows herself to be brought to her knees upon the plush fabric laid out before her. Yet the air that cools upon the drops trickling down her limbs can only partly be blamed. Rather, it's the thrill of wanting to feel Cellinia again, to be felt by her in turn, that has the anticipation gnawing at Mai's nerves. Hasn't she had enough? This thought surfaces but for a moment, then darts back into the depths again, slipping out of her grasp when Cellinia lays her down against the towels, kneeling over her in all of her splendor. Why does her body feel like it hasn't had its fill, not even close?
Wordlessly, the answer to that question tingles under her skin, beneath the trail that Cellinia's fingers caress down along her body. Everything, Mai can feel everything, and her breath catches in her throat while she quivers from the sensations left in the wake of those gentle, calloused fingertips. That's itâ that's the reason why she still feels wanting, even after submerging herself in Cellinia's deluge of ecstasy several times over. Those hands upon her seem to grasp at something far beneath the thorn-studded surface, those eyes see something desirable, an oasis somewhere in the harsh desert. Foolishly, Mai had thought that she would have shed the awe she felt after the first time she was shown such careful tenderness, such rapt attention. Maybe even after the second timeâ but no, she's only become more ensnared. Even if Cellinia feeds Mai affection until she becomes utterly sick with love, her body would still find itself crying out in starvation for more. Rot her down to the bones with your poison, beloved wolf, for it's a death she would gladly chase if it means that she wouldn't have to leave your side.
Were she not basking in the pleasure of Cellinia's warmth, her breath fanning against her neck as she kisses and suckles at flesh that flutters with her quickening pulse, Mai would have given herself a scolding for getting too carried away and letting herself indulge in another messy, lustful bout. How impatient they are to take one another, to be taken, that they won't even bear the wait of going about this all in proper orderâ but nothing about their affair thus far has been the least bit proper. If Cellinia is adamant about their greed being glorified beneath the spotlight, then this greed shall indeed dictate that propriety be swiftly dashed aside. And if Mai is to lose herself to her own more beastly desires, then she need not think herself above doing as beasts would do, right? For a beast isn't beholden to a correct time or place, all it heeds is the primal desires that pool hotly in its loins, begging to be satiated in any manner that it can. It does not restrain itself, no, it doesn't hold back until every fiber of its being is bathed in the euphoria of release.
Rightâ Mai had promised not to hold back. A beast or a goddess, no matter which role she chooses to play, she can't be anything less than insatiable for her audience of one, her ever-attentive wolf who waits for her to take what is hers.
'Good girl,' Cellinia calls her. A stiff breath passes through Mai's lips, a scoff intended in reply, but instead carrying the weight of something decidedly more needy than huffy. It does something quite ruinous to her, makes her crumble just enough that she would want to do whatever she could to snatch more of that acclaim for herself. In truth, that praise is practically reward enough, but if Cellinia wants to give her more than that, then Mai would be stupid to play the modest little maiden. No, she promised to be greedyâ so when she gasps sharply at yet another mark left behind, Mai ignores the desperate flush that creeps upon her cheeks and splays her hand over the one Cellinia rests stop her stomach, rubbing her thumb over her knuckles with a partial urgency, a quiet demand to keep caressing her.]
Of course I do.
[But her haughtiness has been momentarily broken by Cellinia's casual praise, and if she isn't careful, then it would almost sound like she is nearly begging for that reward offered. But that isn't the kind of good girl that her lover wants. What Cellinia wants, Mai decides for her, is Mai's free hand gripping the back of her head, fingers buried in her damp hair as she ensures that her lips won't part from leaving proof of their hunger upon her skin. What her wolf wants is to feel Mai's greed spilling out in the heat of their bodies connected, held fast against one another as if they were molded perfectly to fit together like this upon their makeshift altar. What she wants is Mai entangling their legs just a bit, her knee brushing idly against Cellinia's thigh as her body hums at having her so close once more.]
But, spoil me too early, and I'll forget that I have to earn that reward, won't I?
[A half-baked caution, mused aloud. Mai chews slightly at the inside of her lip as her eyes catch Cellinia's while the wolf leaves her kisses wherever she pleases. Oh, of course she looks absolutely beautiful as she does so, Mai can't help but find herself captivated again by her searching gaze. Does she find what she seeks, does she enjoy what her eyes drink in? The blush making itself at home upon Mai's skin, the way her eyelashes flutter quickly whenever Cellinia's lips brush against a particularly sensitive spot upon her neck. Do her precious ears revel in the way that Mai gasps and sighs softly whenever her lover finds a new spot to leave another love bite? Does it not feel splendid to have her goddess squirm and shudder beneath her, the heat from her body growing in a display of exquisite enjoyment of this sweet intimacy shared?
Mai can't stand how perfect it feels, how magnificent Cellinia looks devoting herself like this. She can't stand how badly she wants more, how desperate she knows she'll become for it the moment she can't have any more. When she speaks again, her voice is soft, breathy, but her words are resolute, as if she has at last understood the depths of her own desires.]
âŠDo it. Reward me so well that all I'll be able to think about it earning it afterward, Cellinia.
[If Cellinia wishes to give her the entire world and every last star that casts its silvery light across the endless skiesâ if that is the grand magnitude of this act of worshipâ then Mai will gladly repay this priceless gift of devotion until her last breath. Yes, just as Cellinia would show Mai what it is to become a proper beast for a spell, Mai will venerate her wolf as a veritable goddess, herself. She'll show her just how prettily she can get on her knees to worship, and earn every last bit of affection she has to give.]
(itâs a certain addiction, a certain death and feeling in how addicted to this sweet poison theyâre becoming. the antidote neglected, their bodies growing familiar with that searing desire that drives them to want more. to need more, itâs insatiable in how they crave it, need it. they might as well be ready to die without the touch of love and devotion that theyâre granted. the tenderness and searing looks from one another. how could it not destroy them when theyâre apart? drive them mad, ruin them further as that longing eats them apart. the immense desire, the hunger, how she feels it wrap a hand around her throat from sheer greed thrumming through her veins. the hammering of her heart, the way she canât help that her nerves almost feel lit on fire with each touch given and taken. there is no end to this greediness, the ecstasy of it as her body feels as though it has yet to reach its own satisfaction. abandoning reason is only part of what it means to be a beast. sheâll teach her how to be a proper one in offerings of freedom and wishes of allowing her to take it, the promises that were sworn are only part of this desire to teach her goddess what it means to be alive.
proper order, there wasnât a need for it. sheâll rot you down in this sweetness, dear goddess, she wonât let up until every drop of poison melts you together and ties you further into fateâs whims. starved, hungry, and never bound to be satisfied, not even bound to find themselves full as this debauched altar demands. she shows it in her eyes, she would never lose that awe to them and desire. the want and desire to memorize her sighs, her expressions. how her hands reach through thorns that cover them mutually to give her such careful tenderness. the attention and how rapturous it must be to be worshiped like a goddess. that must be reward enough, the utterances of her most treasured devotee and how those hands find a place along her body. to make it her own alone. nobody else would have her, not as long as her sweet wolf breathes. not as long as she marks her skin in kisses and love bites, offerings of her own in more debauched worship as they ignore reason for something else.
her lips are against her collar, her eyes never leaving her goddesses face. the flush to her cheeks, the fluttering of her lashes, the sound of her voice as she shudders when her lips find that sensitive spot. a spot that she licks into slowly with a wolfish tongue whilst her hand travels lower at the brush of her goddesses thumb against her knuckles. their hands together when it trails downward, her fingers parting her lips to tease and feel her along the wet heat of her sex. she can almost smell it, the thick scent of arousal. mouthwatering as celliniaâs lips work their way to one breast, to run her tongue along the soft skin sheâs marked again slowly. ah, she tastes so heavenly. so good, is what cellinia thinks whenever she takes a nipple gently between her teeth and rolls it with her tongue. each lick of it something gentle, something tender. she almost moans from the taste of her skin mixed into the water, how can one girl make her desire so much?
she isnât so sure, she only knows that she likes it. that she wants more of this, of her. consequences be damned about doing this out of order. she didnât care before, she doesnât now as the wolf releases her nipple eventually at her loverâs words. make her want to think about how to earn these rewards, huh? she can do that for her goddess, sheâd only ever want her to desire more of such praise. maybe even more of whatever her greedy heart could ask for from the wolf. keep sighing sweetly for her, beautiful goddess, keep making those sounds and giving her these lovely sights. she looks so enthralled, so much like she finds herself hungering for more of those expressions and sighs. her moans, even, when the wolf decides she shouldnât keep her goddess and her pleas waiting for too long.
the entangling of their legs is only part of what her devoted wolf is after, the rest? thatâs obvious whenever sheâs slow about her fingers pressing into that wet heat. one at first, then another joining to grant her one urge. to be full and touched until her voice is raw again.)
You asked then, Mai, Iâll give you as much as your greed could ever desire, youâre mine after all, arenât you?
(she says it so sweetly, that question, how she whispers it against her lips and kisses her deeply. mine, she says. they both donât know what that might entail, but itâs going to be apparent the longer this goes on. that she would keep a lonesome goddess as her own. nobody else would take her from the den of a wolf that is protective, protective and willing to shed their blood to get what she wants. what reactions might she give her now? those wild eyes, they look so pleased, to learn again and again how her goddess wants to be touched. how she even desires to give her those cries, the attempts at haughtiness amused the wolf. the wolf, who knows that her goddess is a cute liar when she wants to hide such things from her. itâs so precious, to see that she wants to entice her further with that by playing coy and hiding behind teasing and scathing remarks that were half-hearted.
itâs so very good, to hear it. why wouldnât it be? itâs the chase that also makes it sweeter, such as now in how she touches her goddess. the pump of her fingers starts slowly, steady, how could she not answer her desires, too?)
I wonder what kind of rewards youâd ask for from me. Will they be sinful, or will they be something sweet?
(she sighs it out between each kiss, each lick of her tongue. the wolf can guess what the obvious answer would be, but sheâs learned to indulge her lover in these imaginative exercises that theyâve both begun sharing. it didnât matter how it started, they both indulged one another a little too much to behave. their patience being so thin when faced with each other is proof of that, and cellinia is usually the more patient predator of them. yet thatâs fine, she doesnât mind this change. to give her more of her bestial desires, those instincts that run hot in her.)
[Desiring, demanding, obtainingâ Mai feels herself tumbling down the steps faster than she can get proper footing as she grasps at what it means to liberate the greed-drenched monster inside of her. These yearnings made known, given voice before the rigidity of reason has a chance to crush them underfoot, now leave her to reap the consequences of forfeiting the pitiable parts of herself to meet this wolf in her domain. Tearing away the safety of accepting her lot in life, the old certainty that she could only ever be prey to something more terrifying and more ravenous than she might ever becomeâ how painful it should have felt, how torturous it ought to be, to be stripped bare of the rags and be seen for all of her loneliness, begging for solace. Ah, but instead, the searing ache that Mai had feared suffering beneath is masked rather beautifully by the thrills of Cellinia's kisses, electric and humming wherever her lips find themselves next.
In a way, Mai forgets that she should feel ashamed of appearing so vulnerable, when her lover is swathing her in such attentive care. The ardor with which Cellinia journeys her way across her body is more than enough to stoke the fires of the ravenous beast that she encourages Mai to become. This wolf shows her thoroughly how to savor her meal, only grazing her sharp teeth in the places where she knows she'd get the most delicious reactions out of Mai, these clipped gasps and muted groans that fill the scant space between them. Another sensitive spot marked for Cellinia, and Cellinia alone. An amusing notion, that perhaps more and more of Mai's body has become increasingly sensitive to whatever manner of touch that this focused lover might lavish upon her. That wherever she wants to lay her possessive kisses would undoubtedly send a rush of exhilaration through Mai's veins, flooding her with enough adoration to drown her in it.
A low whine slices through the otherwise quiet breathlessness, drawn out between the dual sensations of Cellinia's tongue running over collar, and her fingers sliding down lower, lower until they stop where Mai is aching for her most. Good, that's rightâ show her by example, Cellinia. Show her how splendid it is to let one's appetite burgeon and consume everything that its relentless flames lap at. Mai is all too ready to ignite beneath her skilled touch, oh, how badly she wants to be on fire for Cellinia again. Surely her beautiful wolf can already feel it, when her fingertips drag teasingly between her lips, coating themselves in the slick, hot arousal that only grows whenever she caress her just right. Mai's hand remains loosely over Cellinia's at first, wishing to feel each small, careful motion with which she relays this promise of pleasure.
As soon as Cellinia's lips kiss tenderly over her breast, she is rewarded with the sweetest of sighs against her sharp ears. Those fingers of hers do not let up for a single moment while her tongue gently plays with the sensitive bud of flesh that stiffens prettily for her attention. Enjoy her for a bit, Cellinia, for Mai finds that her lover is in the perfect place for her mouth to have some fulfillment of its ownâ first, Mai's lips purse tightly around the edge of one fluffy ear, and she breathes out a small frustrated groan in response to the stimulation she's receiving at the same time. For the time being, she lets her eyes flutter shut as she suckles and nibbles gracelessly, grateful to have some way to muffle how needy she sounds from these maddening touches alone. Too bad, that she can't conceal the dismay in her eyes when Cellinia at last pulls away, drawing herself up to meet Mai face to face again. It's written in her goddess' slightly furrowed brows, the flush deeper on her cheeks as she gives a half-convincing poutâ at least, until that expression becomes one far more blissful, and a whole lot more honest, at what Cellinia decides she'll do next.
After having worked Mai up quite nicely, there's hardly any resistance against the fingers she slowly pushes past her entrance. A shallow exhalation soon dissolves into loud, sharp whimper the deeper she goes, and Mai's body fast remembers how perfect Cellinia feels inside of her like this. Instinctively, her walls flutter and cling to her fingers. A strong relief washes over Mai, but the ache for this satisfaction does its battle all the same with the peace she wants to revel in.
She returns the kiss before she answers that tenderly-whispered question, and the kiss is delightfully messy, half-ruined by tiny gasps that find their way past Mai's lips.]
Mm-hmm, right⊠I-I'mâ
[Any other time, and Mai would absolutely hate how desperate her eyes might look, searching Cellinia's eagerly once she hears that one beautiful terrible word: Mine. But Cellinia knows just how to get Mai where she wants herâ a quick learner, this wolf. All Mai can do, is follow her lead. She has learned, too, after all, that her lover enjoys hearing Mai eagerly concede to being her possession.]
I'm yours.
[It goes without saying,â but why not say it? For it excites her to speak it aloud, just as it must excite Cellinia to hear it confirmed so ardently.]
Hmph⊠T-Too late to ask for something sweet, with you touching me like thisâŠ
[Her attempt at a sneering retort is flimsy, broken by a shaky whimper as Cellinia begins to ease her fingers in and out of her. She can't hide from those keen eyesâ but does she even want to? Mai's fingers at the back of Cellinia's neck dig in just a bit more, keeping those eyes firmly on her, as if she wants this beautiful demise of hers to be watched without fail. You know it already, sweet wolf, what a lovely little hypocrite Mai can be.]
Butâ
[Their kiss breaks for a moment, and Mai breathes out a harsh sigh when she feels Cellinia press even more slowly, more deeply into her. Her eyes search her lover's for another quick moment, that attentive gaze that hasn't left a single detail of Mai's blissful reactions out of her sight. Nothing escapes Cellinia's watch, no, not even Mai herself can ever escape so long as her wolf wills it. How perfect Cellinia is, the beauty that she boasts all the more frightening because the beast within her knows just how well to attune itself to the object of its relentless desire.]
âbut you'd give it to me, if that's what I wanted.
[These little exercises in imagination are plenty enjoyable, especially when they teeter so close to becoming reality. It's evident enough in the way that Mai's body reacts to these suggestions that she relishes indulging in this bit of play, even if her own cheekiness is fast-fading.]
Y-Yeah, I already knowâ you'd want to give me everything.
[How noble of Mai, to acknowledge Cellinia's devotion with whatever slivers of pride she can cobble together in the position that she's in.]
So why should I choose, hm?
[Sweet or sinful, what good is her greed if she can't demand both manners of rewards? Ah, Celliniaâ how you yourself have become the most insidious of poisons, so quick to have Mai drunk on the power that is fed by her own neediness. After all, you've mercilessly ripped her from the shadows that she would have cowered in, where she would have crumbled and given in to the gloom, not finding herself worthy of any reward. Where else is she to turn, then, but towards the unnerving vision of her own greed, and fulfill the desires that it nearly brands into her very heart? For it has no intention whatsoever of being restricted, a rather wicked declaration largely inspired by Cellinia's own urging from before.
So, darling wolf, both shall be hers, no? How could you present to her the options and not expect her to want it all, this third choice that you've given her the confidence to visualize? A reward so sweet will be the pretty words falling from your lips, while your sinful fingers draw the most unholy sighs and groans from your lover. Or perhaps, that mouth of yours is better suited to speaking utter filth into your greedy goddess' ears, as your loving touch finds itself at home within her slick heat, making her body feel as if no other sweetness could ever compare.
Mai draws her in for another deep kiss, her tongue gliding pleasantly against Cellinia's, while her hand leaves her lover's to now grab tightly at her scarred hip. She can't say it, that this alone is enough reward. Though, it thrills her plenty to imagine what more she could possibly attain, the thoughts alone arousing her all the more.]
(she was right, right on all counts. cellinia wouldnât restrain herself, that she likes to hear the way her lover has her own demands. that she responds to being called hers so willingly, cellinia can feel it. how it tickles her senses, the instincts burrowed deep within her. why wouldnât it? she has that craving, that urge and desire to make mai only hers. that she strips free her from the shadows so naturally is only part of that ever burning desire she carries. she wouldnât settle for anything less than the greed within her being freed, given to her while they lay together and to be mutually owned. this isnât something one-sided. if theyâre going to have a lesson in animalistic desires, something bestial, that would only be a hindrance for this. mai shedding the skin of humanity for a beastâs pelt for a time with her teacher being one of the best that she could ever ask for. sheâd teach you thoroughly mai, donât even doubt that while her ears miss the attention they received already.
how she moaned for her before she came up, to kiss her after taking that time to work her up into being so aroused. a lesson in freedom that only something like a wolf could bring with those beautiful moans, the sighs that escape her lips after that cute pout. she must really love playing with her ears, being able to preoccupy her mouth from their adorable reactions to her goddesses lips and tongue running along the sharp outline of them. the issue is more that cellinia likes to have her mouth on mai too much, sheâll need a different lesson in patience. one which might result in her being restrained again so that her beautiful goddess could touch her into not restraining the bestial and baser instincts that she carries. would that be good for you, mai? seeing her like this more often, all for your eyes alone? she would hope so, as her fingers work into a steady rhythm. the stroke of them against her walls as they pump in and out.
plunging themselves deep, deep enough that the half-ruined kiss and her goddesses broken groans, sighs, are music to her ears. the right thing needed to stir up those instincts. she needs so much more of it, so why would she hold back? mai wasnât a liar when it came to knowing this much about cellinia from their time together, as short as it is, being illuminating on what the wolf desires and what sheâd do for her in those vows and promises. she was a hypocrite, but that was fine. she finds that part of her that tries to act cute, to lie and behave like she didnât intend for the opposite to happen, to be another adorable part of her. itâs something else thatâs mesmerizing when it comes to her goddess. her little red riding hood who was tortured from this sweet pleasure and poison offered by a wolf. the hungering desire of her as she poisons her, as mai even poisons her darling wolf into wanting only the love she could offer as her own.
they needed nothing more than that in how this ignites something fierce, burning them up to pieces. like cinders. they could be reborn by this affair of theirs whenever love desires it most. demand, seek it out, desire it, and even take it. she has so much to give, so much to let her goddess take from this worship. to have in her greedy hands while realizing the truth of the matter. cellinia would give her everything. everything down to her soul, her body, and this sweet poison she carries. what good was resisting? it only makes it linger more as they carry on in this ruinous affair. mai would get whatever she desires most, cellinia could even offer her sin in her words and sweetness in her touch. or sin and her touch and sweet words vividly spoken to paint a picture of debauchery that only two girls such as them could ever hold within their hands.
the delightfully messy kiss, the indulgent brush of their tongues seeking one another, this is true bliss. something close to it between the way their bodies fit together, the moans fed to her lips and mai taking hold of her scarred hip to drag her closer. a thing of beauty, even when so desperate for her and needy. even while she attempts to hide what she wants like the hypocrite that she is, the liar that her beautiful goddess could be while the wolf can feel it in how their hearts pound together. why wouldnât she want more? itâs torture to resist, itâs torture to tell herself that she shouldnât while the reasonable side of her mind struggles in vain to fight against what the animalistic side desires more. what that starved part of her heart canât help in its cravings for her goddess.)
Iâd always give it to you.
(she would, without question, she didnât have to choose as the wolf utters those words breathlessly between kisses. between the glide of their tongues, shared breaths, and heat thrumming in her veins. sheâs such a mess herself, letting go this quickly for a girl that knew how to wind her up into whatever she desired more for the mood. a loving devotee, a girl who worships her body like it means something against the shadows which threaten to take her back down into the ink black darkness. her handsome wolf, her beautiful lover, with those piercing eyes who stares at her so reverent. she doesnât restrain her urge to commit blasphemous sins and commit to memory this girlâs loveliest of expressions.
just like she wants in how cellinia felt the way those fingers dig into the back of her neck, this beautiful demise is hers to watch alone. donât ever dare to give it to another again, mai, take her deeper down this bottomless ocean. your manmade heaven will be built carefully, crafted with such care that not even those fools who wished to end you would be able to breach it. sheâd make sure of that in how cellinia looks positively wild by the spark in her eyes. that spark of desire that seems to never go away once mai starts to push her into reacting, but could she be blamed for that? neither of them could be, not without equal blame for what this has caused and what would come from it at the end of their journey.)
Why ask whenever you can get both, whenever you can demand it from me. Like now, look at you, so beautiful. Your body fits so wonderfully against mine, it takes me so well.
(never mind that she doubts her dirty talk sounds proper, but itâs befitting of her to have sinfully sweet words and praises. only the sweetest of filth would slip from those kiss bruised lips that keep coming back for more of her taste. that need to preoccupy themselves against her mouth, her skin, wherever they find themselves at.
this beautiful and savage wolf, covered in ink and scars, she can only belong to one woman and one person. if only she realized that person is right in front of her, that this girl who cries out for her so prettily is the one that shall have her. this is a dance for two, a stage for two, however they wish to call it. not a shared stage with any other soul but one another who would so naturally desire to keep whatâs theirs. their lover is only theirs, any other that tried would find themselves on the receiving end of their brutal garden and joined thorns. there would be no taking them away from this den as they fall deeper down, pushed deeper into what would be their lives.)
What I want is to hear you, be it sinfully sweet or filthy. I want you to touch me, to claim me like how I am you. Mark me as I have your body. Your own canvas, the way that I make yours into mine.
(take her the way you desire most, touch her like she doesnât need enough. thatâs only fitting, lovely goddess, your darling wolf only demands that you carve this mark deep down into her. that her body may never forget who claims it, who demands it more than anything. this is what she wants, greed in its purest of forms. raw passion, desire, and though they deny it, love itself that mixes into their lustful desires.)
I only need you.
(isnât that the sweetest thing, uttered as she kisses this girl so deeply? her tongue slick, licking into maiâs while her free hand reaches to trace along her loverâs body as best as she can. her battle worn fingertips tracing a path along her ribs, to her breasts when it cups one of them. it starts to even grab it, rolling a swollen nub of a nipple between her thumb and forefinger with each squeeze of it. the attention she gives is something only fit for her goddess, they wouldnât know what this true worship is.
they wouldnât even know the sinful way that the wolf would worship you at any time that you wanted, mai. so be greedy, take all of it from her. demand it all. sheâll give it to you. what good was having this greed if they restrained themselves from it?
nothing was good if they did, that was something long since decided from the start of this affair of theirs. because of it, cellinia could only let out these desires. this care that she gives out with the intent of not letting someone else take away what is rightfully maiâs. the tender affection, the poison on her lips between each harsh kiss. how theyâre nearing graceless desperation.
this is what she will have on this makeshift altar of many, cellinia would make certain of that.)
[It's a touch trickier than Mai would have anticipated, this lesson at relinquishing human sensibilities in exchange for the unbridled hunger of a beast. Curiously enough, she's half-fooled by her lover's gentleness with her, those lovely words and the beautiful pace she sets with her fingers thus far. There's not a single doubt in her mind that she has ended up with the best of the best, as far as teachers are concerned. Cellinia can walk both worlds without issue, appearing to live quietly amongst humans while still being able to thoroughly indulge in her natural instincts without leaving a trail of bloody ruin in her wake. Well, noâ in this case, the ruin that she would leave her lovers in is hidden within the longing she roots deeply within their bodies, melting them with such ease that they would do nearly anything to be caught, trapped beneath a wolf's sharp gaze one more time.
The more that Mai lets Cellinia lead her, the more she allows herself to observe without giving in thoughtlessly to the sweetness of their intimacies, the better she can see where her own path could entangle with that of a beast. She can follow the thread masquerading as the kisses that Cellinia is impatient to indulge in, despite how she seemed to enjoy the feel of Mai's mouth upon her ears. True, the greed is there, lurking, anticipating the moment where it can bask in all of its unhindered glory. But it wearsâ and convincingly soâ the image of something patient and yearning. This lesson of theirs demands more of Mai than might have been earlier considered. Perhaps it even demands more of Cellinia, her very guide. To love a human as a beast, to love a beast as a humanâ somewhere in the middle, they might find that each is more a reflection of the other than they would have ever fathomed.
Each step of this beautiful dance calls upon Mai to rise above the swelling waves of bliss that want to whisk her away. Cellinia, effortlessly, leads her across this stage of theirs with her touch, and when she hotly murmurs her sin-soaked adoration, it's as if she is orchestrating the very unrestrained reactions that Mai's body gives her. How she shudders and tightens reflexively around her when Cellinia praises her, calling her beautiful when she has her like this. Of course, Mai thinks, wants to blurt out, that Cellinia would be lucky if she'd ever have anyone more beautiful than Mai Zen'in holding her close, and closer still because she can't get enough.]
C-Celliniaâ
[But she doesn't utter whatever petulant remark she might've otherwise wanted to wind up her lover with. No, she can't reply with anything other than a breathless almost-laugh, and Cellinia's pretty name twisted into something akin to a plea. How will her good little pup answer her? Will she give her more, more of both her touch and her filthy praise, and feast her eyes on just how beautifully Mai can unravel for her? With every deep, possessive plunge of Cellinia's fingers into her wet heat, Mai stops trying to bite back the shaking whimpers. What good is there in denying this pretty display from what is hers? Let her hear this raw desire and unadulterated greed, let her taste the desperation in each kiss that Mai breaks prematurely with her clipped gasps.
Her sweet wolf enjoys how splendidly Mai takes the relentless pleasure that Cellinia builds up between her hips, does she? How terrible, utterly terrible of this beast, the way she ruins her with how sweetly she speaks to her, all the while her hands take their impatient fill of Mai's body. And she spoils her like this, Cellinia summoning the greed to devour on what she rots away with her devotionâ that which doesn't belong anymore in the prize she has claimed for her own.]
O-Only need me?
[Cellinia's breathtaking declaration is echoed in the strained notes of Mai's voice. Fiery pride flashes in her eyes, only tempered by the lapping tides of awe at hearing such words. Her lover's need competes with the touches she so deftly gives, and it's hard to say which of them causes Mai's body to react so hotly, a notable trembling in her limbs at the calloused fingertips explore their way up along her torso. And when they dance over her ribs, higher and higher, to then cradle the soft flesh of her breast, a soft mewl of approval is hummed into their kiss. It's utterly splendid, this attention fed to her without abandon, sending deeper rushes of pleasure in waves through her body just when she had acclimated to the bliss of the sensations. A sharp gasp is stifled in response to Cellinia's fondling, the way she teases at the nipple between her fingers stoking Mai's nerves and feeding the heat pooling in her stomach as Cellinia's ceaseless fingers are met with more of her dripping essence with every thrust.
Part of her wants to repay the careful tenderness, but when she drags her nails up along from Cellinia's hip, leaving rosy lines that only deepen in their hueâ is the sweetness that her darling wolf wants in return not this? Marking her in ways that, even if only temporarily, would remind her of the sting of Mai's ache for her. A shame, that these will fade, a shame that they'll have no choice but to offer themselves up to each other repeatedly until these marks of ownership become scars of love that stretch across their very souls.]
Tell me again. Tell me again, Cellinia.
[Praise, affectionâ whatever one wishes to call it, Mai wants it. Needs it, a more apt conclusion, or craves it. For this much, the greedy little animal inside of her that waits for its chance to shine, digs through her reluctance with claws too sharp. And they sink, deeply, deeper still, latching onto Cellinia though not drawing a single drop of blood. It finds its well-earned throne in the hopeless, passionately messy kisses that Mai steals from her lover, and it makes its demands in the hand she grazes over the scar on Cellinia's abdomen. Lower, lower, the greed simply won't be satisfied until Cellinia's pleasure is at Mai's mercy, as well. How excited does it make you, pretty wolf, breaking your lover down so adoringly? It'd be foolish to think that Mai's curiosity won't be getting the better of her, at the behest of this greedy shadow.]
Tell meâ [there, there is that undeniable begging in her voiceâ the one that no one else will ever get the privilege of hearing, just as Cellinia desires ] âtell me, and I'll make you beautiful.
[And she will, that's a promise. She shall flood your veins with a pleasure that'll feed your addiction, Cellinia, and leaves you in bliss only to suffer in misery when the thrill has worn off. It's not so different from the way you're calling upon Mai to sin with youâ she already knows she'll be tormented by the memories of this brief fling, and she loathes it. Wallow in the anguish with her, then, won't you? Her greed isn't as pretty as yours, not yetâ but that's fine, isn't it? Even those sharp eyes can find something beautiful in the way that Mai's fingers trail between Cellinia's thighs, stroking hungrily over sweetly sensitive places. Because that's how Mai longs to make Cellinia into something even more beautiful for her own eyes, sparkling with yearning and pleasure. Perhaps her wolf will have to enjoy her kisses while she can, Mai's greed might soon latch onto a craving for a different kind of taste⊠]
(lessons like this take time, effort. to be an expert means letting go of oneâs inhibitions to release what would be their deepest greed, their unspoken desires and everything. there are no winners when it comes to the matter of love, how it might as well destroy them for their existence. believing themselves above it, beyond it. what good has falling this hard done for any poor girls like them, who dreamed of freedom and the peace that it could bring upon weary souls? itâs done nothing. cellinia is something proud, something beautiful in all her scars, the ink, and the bestial air that comes from her. a threat of tearing apart others while displaying acts of tenderness that no beast should know about. sheâs so cruel in these affections, to herself, to others, and perhaps eventually mai as well while they begin to unravel and bind themselves to the fate of one another. nobody would rip away this lesson in greed, not even this love that would come of it.
love will be their doom. it is their ruin, the one thing that shall never be forgotten in the deep etchings of scars and pain within them. cellinia is slow, slow to lead this dance even with sweet words of longing, of offerings that should have never been spoken. she says them, regardless, she dances so beautifully as they lean away from something like fucking to making love. that terrible and ruinous emotion which fuels lovers into surrendering what little they have left to whatever heaven may exist. those words, so pretty, they were said without knowing that it was only another spell of their doom in which theyâd at the end never be the same as they were before. sheâd show her such delights, the whispers, while letting go of what had been their sanity. their mundane and pathetic reality, which fades further away the longer they spend in this carefully crafted altar. this sacred place, fending off the thoughts of how undeserving they are.
about how they never deserved this, love never was to be in their hands. but she calls her beautiful, she says so truly, the words that only drive the nail deeper into their mutual coffin that would be the future. i only need you, what tainted words could only ever be felt by them who never knew the beauty of it. being needed, being wanted. having a home, a place to belong to without fear of being shunned for what they are. theyâre only two foolish girls who made the mistake of telling themselves love was a game that would destroy their poor hearts further for trying to make sense of it. to chase it, even. the sound of mai crying out for her, that desperate plea in her voice as she says her name. not the last name she holds scornfully close as the only survivor, but cellinia. she wants to hear it more. taste it, even, on the lips of her goddess as she cries out such sinful sounds that would put even the most practiced of singers to shame. thereâs nothing more beautiful than this. to see it, to feel her unraveling before the sharp eyes of a wolf.
pull her nearer, even while they kiss so breathless and graceless.
whatever remark can stay silenced, they both didnât need to hear it. just looking at her is enough to stir her baser instincts. sheâs made that claim all the more personal with saying those tainted words, those words which hold to them something deeper. past what should have been a fling, a simple tryst. oh, they truly were foolish for them to not realize what theyâre getting themselves into by willing something like that into existence by how they play at ignoring the emotions that stir. love at first sight, ignorance at first sight with their pretending. the sweet wolf canât take her eyes off her dear goddess. what a beautiful sight, unraveling before sharp eyes that would commit every gasp and sigh and expression to memory. possession, want, and greed.
itâs wicked, how this devoted beast could be so hungry. so desperate itself in how she kisses this girl, this is what true devotion feels like. looks like. the plunge of her fingers deep into that wet heat, the feeling of her arousal dripping out more from each greedy thrust of them. there would be no restraint, not as long as mai willâs for that. she would be given every drop of greed and devotion. every taste of sinfully sweet and unholy words on her tongue, itâs solely hers to have, to cherish. there would be no other, nobody other than her. mai could count on that from cellinia, her ever devoted beast, who would sooner lash out were someone to try and suggest she needs to worship another.
the sweet music of maiâs voice straining is enough to stir up something fierce within her, that sound is only another part of the beauty in this sinful siren song. her hands are attentive, the unrelenting thrust of her fingers, the fondling of her breast with care, while maiâs voice causes this wolf to be unable to look away more than usual. that mewl of approval and how her body trembles is only all the sweeter for this beast of hers. isnât it so good of her, mai? sheâs giving you so much of her. sheâs even giving you more than any person could ever try to, nobody else could compare to your sweet wolf, can they? sheâs beyond a human in her reverence, donât you want to see the way sheâd treat your body so tenderly, treat you like all others couldnât compare to you?
she can feel it in how she scratches those rosy lines along her hip, she could even feel it in the way mai returns this tenderness with her own devotion. a wish to mark her wolfâs body in scratches and marks that would have to be renewed again and again. carving them past scars that were carried, crafting them carefully into a message of love or devotion of their own without acknowledging the pitiful truth behind it. that this is love. they wonât be returning from love, theyâd only die from it and be born again for their troubles.
ah, but her greedy goddess reminds her, sheâs not one to hold back when she pleases. cellinia is reminded quickly, especially when maiâs hand goes lower. brushing up against that nasty scar, against sensitive places of her own, while cellinia breathes out a shaky sigh in response in their kisses. the passionate and messy kisses, hopeless, but wanting more. more than anything, the utter wanton pleasure between them just waiting to be released from its shackles. the beast can only be in awe at seeing how her goddess loves most to hear those words. the ruinous words that were proclaimed.
should she say it again for you, mai? the sweet touch of your fingers is torture, in how her own voice strains. more, give her more. give her everything, give her this devotion of your own. give her this greed thatâs running through your veins, sink your claws into her like she wonât belong to another herself. donât hold back, lovely goddess. this wolf has a taste for you and your sweet affection. this poison that you give her as it rots her down into this devoted monster that she will be for you.)
I only need you.
(does she need to say it louder, mai? because she might, she might if she demands it. the way her voice strains from pleasure, the drip of arousal and how wet she is for her. it would be so easy to slip her fingers inside if mai wishes to, cellinia wouldnât stop her from doing what she wanted. her lover can touch her freely, they could let go together if she really desired it for this show of sinful devotion on their makeshift altar. her greed didnât need to be a thing of beauty, cellinia would still be awestruck by it. it would get there in time, and even if it did not, cellinia would always find it beautiful. she can taste her as much as she desires, itâs only fitting that the wolf doesnât demand any less than that. she wants to be tormented, to be haunted by it. from this pure agony of knowing they would for a time be apart. so feed your desires, mai, she wants that more than anything.
[Oh, how they please Mai, these words repeated at her insistence. And how they almost suffocate her, stealing her breath away and leaving her yearning to hear them againâ just once more, and one more time after that, to feed a soul-splitting void that she wished she could have ignored forever before Cellinia waltzed into her life and tempted her with the promise of devotion. To be needed, in any manner of the word, is all Mai had ever truly wanted. For someone whose existence hardly meant a thing to anyone, being needed was everything. Because who else in her life held her in such esteem, nowadays? Those numbers, already embarrassingly small, have long-since dwindled into practically nothing. A few friends, maybe, who very well might leave her, too, somedayâ in life or in death.
Or maybe Mai would be the one to disappear, unceremoniously and without mourning, cast to the monsters as she has been. She'd die without ever being needed again, she figured, an empty loneliness that was befitting of a soul half-formed.
But in the same twist of fate that had birthed her into that family, Mai Zen'in has found herself being desiredâ neededâ by a beautiful monster.
It bewilders Mai, as she takes in the ragged and strained voice that utters such desires to her, while her own hands slip ever-closer to where she really longs to be. It bewilders herâ it's as though she is staring Death in the eyes and it demands that she lives. Cellinia is a paradox, a beautiful anomaly, and if Mai had any sense she'd run from her, as far as she can from those mesmerizing eyes. Instead, she holds her closer, because the only sense Mai can make of things is that being needed mattered far more than surviving ever could.]
That's right.
[A softly groaned approval, her own voice trembling from a poor attempt at maintaining composure while taking Cellinia's sweet touch. Mai breathes out sharply when her fingers delve in especially deep, and she decides to steal another graceless kiss from her lover's lips, foolishly hoping that she could steal the very air from Cellinia's lungs to make up for how breathless the wolf has left her from this declaration.]
That's right, Cellinia.
[What a good girl she is, better than Mai could ever try to be even at her most sincere. She hums her praise between their kisses, the desperation mutual and the sensations of their hands upon one another leaving their nerves in a frenzy. This is it, this is the feeling that Mai is so greedy for, giving herself up so wantonly to be cherished. It feels as mind-numbingly splendid as it did the night before, and she lets the sounds of her pleasure fall more easily from her lips when they part for air. Mai pants raggedly whenever Cellinia's fingers sink into her, her walls tightening around them reflexively, and she gives a low whimper whenever her lover draws herself free, even if it's only for a moment before plunging back inside.
It nearly drives her mad, practically to the point where she'd be content to let her mind drift in favor of the ecstasy daring to consume her, but there's something she wants to say while she still has her wits about her.]
And IâŠ
[But there's a split-second of hesitation, a wavering somewhere in the back of her mindâ reason daring to make her second-guess her real feelings. Mai kills it swiftly, that loathsome and unsurprising notion, treating it as if it were a trifling little curse at the end of her revolver. If only life could be so easy, if only she could really be so strong, so honest. Out there, in the real world, Mai knows exactly what she is. But here, atop this altar made of their entangled bodies, she wants to be as precious as Cellinia makes her feel. Reason has no place in whatever this whirlwind affair will lead her to, or will leave her in, once they finally part ways.
Mai's whole existence is unreasonableâ shall these feelings not be unreasonable, as well?
So, she kisses Cellinia again, hard and deep, their tongues slick against one another's. Mai groans hungrily when her fingers find another place where her beautiful wolf is sticky and slick for her. Her heartbeat quickens, a sense of pride and desire blooming hotly across her chest as she glides her fingertips teasingly between those lips. Savoring just how hot Cellinia feels, Mai caresses along her slit, dragging her knuckles softly along the soft flesh and marveling at how soaked her fingers become without even entering yet. Then Mai draws back just a bit, her gaze locked onto Cellinia's. A deep flush graces her cheeks but her eyes carry an unmistakable spark of boldness.]
I only need you, too.
[This vow, Mai breathes against Cellinia's lips, hushed as if a secret for her ears only. They've done well, these two foolish girls, crafting this makeshift sanctuary where they can entertain an even more foolish feeling, dancing around it, nurturing it with pretty words and prettier promises. They know exactly what they're doing, they know that this shall spell their ruinâ but haven't they already agreed to endure this beautiful fate at the other's hands?
Mai hasn't forgotten. She doubts that she ever could, no matter how shameful anyone else might have found her secret pleas to the beast she had willingly let herself be ensnared by. Here, together like this, her greed is allowed to burn away the shame etched into her bones.]
Just like this. Just for me.
[Her voice is a soft coo, alluring and yet needy, before she takes another kiss for her greedy self. Craving something more after letting her fingers have their teasing fun, Mai slows them to a halt against Cellinia's entrance, pressing two fingertips there for a moment. Her own body shudders and melts at the pleasure gifted to her by Cellinia's own hands, but the idea of the two of them eventually losing themselves to ecstasy together clings eagerly to her, and Mai eases her fingers into her lover without much resistance. She sighs in satisfaction at the feeling of being enveloped in her slick heat, wasting no time building a slow and steady rhythm of slipping in and out. Mai adds a third finger, partly out of impatience though mostly because she knows that her pretty wolf can take it. She doesn't hasten her pace, instead relishing the sensation whenever she sinks herself in deeply.]
CelliniaâŠ
[Oh, Mai could sigh her name like this foreverâ but, 'forever' would be too greedy, even for her, no?]
(how fitting is it that the beautiful monster is the one to look upon her like she means something. the wolf is tender, cruelly so in how she makes a girl feel so special. devotion is such an interesting idea from a woman like her, isnât it? when one has so little, itâs only unsurprising that the monsters themselves would find an appeal in souls that were rotted down to being poison themselves. half formed or not, there was such a sweet appeal in what cellinia reaches for with darkly sworn oaths of blood and despair. what better a lover, a match, than someone who knows the sting of hatred toward her own name? legacy does little, honor was only seen by those as a convenient excuse to behave as they pleased. desiring justice of a twisted sort while telling others that they were simply wishing to help those in need, playing at being human for the sake of appearances. except they werenât human, they werenât anything remotely close to human by demeanor alone when given the chance to feast like wild savage animals.
but irony is such a delicious thing, cellinia is no saint, and thereâs proof of it in her choice to sin here and now with a girl who provoked ruin. whispers on a makeshift altar whereupon they choose what may or may not come of this union of theirs and how the other monsters might believe them to be something so terrible in their willful ignorance about the way something like love works. it would only be seen as a foolish endeavor, a game to those bastards who would never understand the way their hearts seem to react. what a funny thought that is, that they might even be able to make something of themselves in their eyes. the pretty wolf doesnât seem fazed by this position they found themselves in, not that sheâs had time to think about it and what it entails. what could possibly go wrong in this love which they ignore the makings of to play pretend. they arenât delicate maidens, but something more cruel than that in their own way. which makes this wolf saving this girl amusing. she doesnât seek to end this by rapidly devouring her, sheâs savoring the hunt and chase that it offers.
how it stimulates her mind, holds her attention without trying from how they both flirted, though cellinia never was a good flirt. that she might have been doing it more naturally speaks some volumes of what kind of presence that mai in her half-formed heart has by words alone and devious whispers of ruin. beautiful anomaly, paradox, it didnât matter what cellinia is at the end of it. if she could go against whatever the world, fate, anything such as that desires, then why not make it so for a pretty goddess while sweet death sought to originally take her for itself? itâs only fitting for a monster to rip away a poor wayward soul from deathâs very own icy grip by making the choices that change such a fate by taking her for herself.
so she whispers it, she needs this foolish girl. though they both are fools, were she to be more honest in that regard. fools who were so twisted into what they are now. there is no soul clean of anything between them. cellinia is transfixed on her, the pretty wolf, which has her eyes glimmer in darkly ignited pleasure. those eyes which are mesmerizing and pretty, sharp as they take in any details. like staring into the soul and deciding that theyâre not leaving. so pretty, so unwilling to look away.
she didnât have to.
all she had to do was listen to the way mai groans out so softly, her sharp breaths like music to the wolf who feels herself sighing out breathlessly sweet notes in response to the kiss. it was easy to steal away her breath by this goddess, theyâre both making mistakes that anyone sane would have avoided. that was far from mind for the wolf, not even until after this would cellinia start to think about it. if only slightly, she might not even bother to consider then until itâs too late that she had promised something more than most would have dreamed of for a girl who had nothing left except precious little that her greedy hands would have held tightly on to. something that cellinia understood too well, as she had been in a precarious position which would have ended her if not for one kind soul.
their kiss bruised lips and breathless sighs, moans, whatever they might call it are proof enough that theyâre only going to lose what grasp of reason and sanity that remains for them. having such things were only pointless when it comes to the affairs of monsters. it wasnât worth the energy to maintain that part of themselves with this kind of storm that entangles them. theyâll never be the same, that is true for cellinia. in the way she touches mai, itâs only another part of this carnal desire mixed with love that they willfully ignore.
she didnât need to think, she only needed the taste of her lips and the sound of her voice with each plunge of her fingers. the whimpers, her ragged breathing while her walls tighten around her fingers. how perfect is she for her? the wolf sees her as a lovely goddess, her own little red riding hood. just look at how pretty she is while with a deep flush across her beautiful face in response to pleasure being granted to her for her own reward in enduring for long enough for one of them to get her hair washed. for even hanging on tight as the wolf called her, hers, in response to the taunting she did.
itâs too perfect, especially in how she breathes out shaky sighs of her own between stolen kisses and their bodies having a deep craving on this makeshift altar. forget about reality, itâs done so little for them. itâs never been kind to girls like them, once bright-eyed and pure. cruel reality, it only offers another poison meant to tear them to pieces with doubt, hesitation, and darker thoughts about what offerings they gave in demeaning ways directed at themselves and their cursing of their vulnerability as though it were a worthless thing. unfortunate how it doesnât work that way with wishing it might disappear, the parts of themselves that could only ever long to be healed like wounded children that are deep within them.
children who didnât deserve the future given to them, though one had risen above the way it intended to destroy her for the crime of living past a night that would have killed her had she not be so fortunate. so lucky that their intentions, that the silver wolf and others within her life hadnât decided to allow her to live. she was worth more dead than alive in the old country to most. but not to them, them who thought her last name and the wretched way it carries a weight to it was worth that effort.
sheâll make her miserable existence, her going against reason, worth something more. more than those monsters had ever taught mai, this is a lesson in living freely. taking as she desires, saw fit, with an offering of a beastâs body and very own leash for a girl like her. itâs an exquisite gift, isnât it? her own beast, something she can mark solely as belonging to her and no other in these spoken words and whispers like theyâre keeping secrets from some manner of outside presences that could be listening. she wants that greed, she wants everything her goddess has to offer without realizing how much that sweetness would destroy them when the day comes for it to collect its due price.
the price of love in how she whines for her goddess, the caress of fingers along her wet folds. that tease of it is enough to make cellinia feel as though she would lose her mind without her touch, sheâs burning so hotly for her between that and the ever deepening kisses. the slick movements of their tongues. her body needs her touch, wonât she give her it? from the low whimper, the hungry groans they share between kisses, one would think she would die without her. without this in how it makes her feel, her own fingers are deep inside mai. they slow. almost as though to match mai while theyâre like this and restrain herself from pushing so soon to bring her red riding hood to the edge.)
Mai....
(so pretty, so lovely how her voice strains when maiâs own fingers sink into the wet heat. how she says her name, itâs so beautiful. her body didnât resist, it welcomes her in how she looks at her lover. beautiful ruin, her free hand finds itself reaching for mai. bringing them both nice and proper on their sides, close, so close and able to see one another better as they both made a choice. they wonât fall to ruin alone. mai desired cellinia to fall with her, then itâs only fitting her rhythm matches that of hers. sheâs being so good for her, as amusing as it is that they both could be only when their hands are preoccupied with their bodies.
her walls tighten around her fingers on reflex when mai adds a third finger, she could take it. she is taking it, so easily and even moaning breathlessly for her, such pretty sounds. into their kiss that her greedy lover takes again for herself. she almost melts from need. forever might be too greedy, but it might even be too greedy were mai to desire to keep hearing the way cellinia might moan her name in kind. the wolf already likes too well how her goddess loves to say her own name. what wonderful music they make while giving these prayers on the makeshift altar, she might never stop praying if it means she can see her again.)
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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.)
no subject
Date: 2025-06-04 10:57 am (UTC)Closing her eyes momentarily to Cellinia's brilliant beauty, and still awaiting her own breath to catch up with the pleas of her spinning mind, Mai does her own mulling over the choices laid out so temptingly in front of her. All of them are deliciously promising, the best use of their dwindling hours left together before this sojourn comes to a close. Moreover, they've made the smallest bit of progress, not letting another bathing endeavor go completely to wasteâ they've earned a bit of misbehaving, no? Perhaps this is Mai's troublemaking mind coaxing her to shoo away the more reasonable response of declining and demanding that they tidy up and go about their day. She could very well demur to the suggestion of getting delightfully messy again with Cellinia's relentless cooperationâ but even a petty liar like Mai has her limits.]
Cellinia.
[Rather than a chastising flavor to her tone that she had intended, Mai breathes out her lover's name with an almost airy impatience, a soft groan following her utterance while she indulges in the kisses that Cellinia so slowly, so readily offers her. This wolf's hands are sweetly, frustratingly, at home upon the small of her back, and if they both get their way, these same ruinous hands will swiftly ensure that no part of Mai's body is foreign to them any longer, come the moment they finally bid each other farewell.]
Here I am, trying to repay you, and you already can't wait to get your hands on me again.
[Whatever is she to do with such a needy beast? The very same who had rescued her from death's kiss while desiring to bring her to a different kind of endâ one delightfully dark enough to have even the reaper itself blush at how devastating Cellinia promises to be. She asks Mai what she wants, but surely she must relish the fact that she already knows exactly what that is. From Mai's own lips, perhaps in her own brand of earnest desperation, Cellinia wants to hear these cravings given life. That she would even plead for it with such a pretty whine coloring her words, her own portion of their exchangeâ she wants Mai to tell her, does she? She longs to hear that Mai wants to dedicate her own body for the art that Cellinia wishes to make, a masterpiece of the most wondrous and most curious of monsters that Mai has ever had in her grasp.
Of course, Mai as no intention of rolling over without lay her own claimâ she wants to bury herself in her lover's ecstasy, feel her shudder again so prettily beneath her roaming hands, and bask in the music of Cellinia's pleasure, herself. Her wolf can't be the only one satisfying her greed, here, and love is best made when they've both been reduced to their most raw and vulnerable, not a single shred of affection concealed in their eyes brimming with relief at the very end.]
Careful with that generosity of yours.
[Leaving the rhythmic beating at Cellinia's chest, Mai's hand moves to give her ears a tender caress to soften the warning she teasingly gives. Her palm carefully smooths over the damp fur, not lingering for too long despite her growing penchant for lavishing them with attention. How cute they are, reactive for herâ how many others enjoy taking such liberties with this wolf's body? Oh, that must be jealousy that swells and rolls over her. It's an utterly loathsome feeling, truly, for it rarely leads to Mai feeling as special as she imagines herself to be.
In this moment, though, with her knuckles now softly grazing Cellinia's cheekbone, Mai decides that her claim is just as good as anyone else's who might want to indulge in this handsome wolf's addicting devotion.]
I don't know what I'd do if someone else wants to take advantage of it.
[Perhaps her possessive streak isn't conveyed as poetically as her lover's is, but Mai makes it clear that the thought of anyone else enjoying the privileges that she's only just been introduced to is more than a little bothersome to her. But that should be a thrill of it's own, no? Knowing that her goddess is far from some aloof deity, uncaring where her devotee makes her prayers or to whom. Rather, there's a very human facet making its demands known: Mai shall undoubtedly be yours, Cellinia, only yours and no one else's. But through this ownership, you likewise relinquish yourself to her possession, and she'll not share even the smallest crumb of affection with any other hopeful.
Before she acquiesces to Cellinia's request, she takes her kisses and hums happily now that she's made her position clear. By now, she can tell that the water is becoming too cool for her enjoyment. Getting out seems a fine enough choiceâ they might not make it far, but Mai promises not to complain too much if where they'll end up isn't as comfortable as a freshly-made bed.]
Don't worry, I'll gladly tell you what I wantâ spoil me rotten with those kisses of yours, Cellinia. Wherever you want to leave them, I won't stop you. I'll even be as greedy as you need me to be.
[And with this deal they'll strike, the debt she owes to her benevolent monster will be repaid, will it not? Demand it of her, Cellinia. Demand this greed of Mai's, push her to the point where she doesn't know how to be anything other than insatiable when it comes to your touch, your ever-hungry lips, and your piercing eyes that shall never let her flee from you.]
And then I'll just keep asking for everything, until you've got nothing left to give.
[Never will Mai become a beast in her own right, not even her wildest dreams. The best she might ever be able to do is don its ravenous attributes like a luxurious piece of fineryâ though it would only be a mere pelt of a beast, if her lover could find it in herself to share. But if Cellinia would humor her, indulge her, then she can experience a greed that shall pick her bones clean, and feel the breathless sensations of being devoured with an earnestness unmatched by any other lover.]
no subject
Date: 2025-06-09 01:51 am (UTC)not all are the same, not all are willing to shed away the pelt of being one to give something more than inhumanity and cruelty that can be considered frightful to the extent of avoidance while one goddess is fascinated by a beast and her love. it's a beautiful thing. the offerings of affection and it's darker promises in vows uttered with such violence at her lover's fingertips when she finds herself ready to give her wolf the word that she longs for freedom. that her goddess aches for the comfort of this den and it's oaths of safety, protection, and something holy that it makes her ache at their inevitable parting in how much she desires it. what she calls a brilliant beauty could be better said about mai to cellinia, they didnât have their attempt at bathing as much of a waste as the last time. though that changes little, bathing alone in the future when the other is so close and near would feel like torture. torture which has its own means of gripping them by the throat.
she sounds so impatient, waiting must be killing her lover. by that sound of it, cellinia finds it unsurprising that mai could not muster the strength to mock chastise her for this insatiable greed. but thatâs fine, impatience is something mutual. the wolf is impatient in how she resists the urge to carry on in this lukewarm water. it would be easy to prop her up in the corner, but that wouldnât be comfortable for her goddess now after her previous attempts at being a considerate lover. no, such impatience is better reserved for another time and place. a bathtub would not do for them in how theyâre both unable to help themselves. not even in the way that the wolf keeps those beautiful eyes on mai. not a single hint of anything except the hunger, the desire, that reverent look she gives her. longing and desire are a main part of their worship in how she brings her goddess in this den to whatever destination she pleases as part of that maze they navigate.
it wonât be much longer before they part, the needy parts of themselves know it to be true in how they couldnât help it. why would they want to part, to count those agonizing days, hours, minutes, and seconds until they reunite? they wouldnât. repayment is something that should be offered by both, for one did almost drag them down into the depths together in an affair that the reaper would have found utterly depressing of their buried down desire for this poison called love. the dark glimmers of it that is mixed into promises, vows, and the inability to recognize what it is thatâs driving them in this strange attraction. this knowing where they together, cause this girl to have one heart and soul again. one heart mended with the heart of another, one soul bonded to her at that moment they kissed in her car during that hot summer afternoon.)
Canât help it.
(thatâs a fact now, isnât it? she couldnât help it, not the way that her eyes are all on her. what kind of beast did she involve herself with? a monster that willingly exhausts them both in raw passion and vulnerability, until their voices find themselves fading into night? possession is a two-way street, there is no changing that. cellinia must offer herself, the same way that mai would for the wolf before her that tenderly worships her as a goddess. she hears the way her tone shifts, how her hand willfully teases those cute ears of hers that twitch in response to the brief attention that she lavishes them with. their bodies are the art that they make of one another, cellinia seeing maiâs as a more perfect canvas than her own which is covered in scars and ink. one she decorates in her kiss, her teeth which leave such lovely bite marks in places that only her goddess could touch. could ever know, truly.
she doesnât want anyone else having such delights now, does she? the wolf isnât surprised. if anything, the wolf finds it more interesting. what a greedy goddess, the greediest of lovers who knows what she wants. she wants the beast and her body to only know her hands, to know only the pleasure that she grants her most beloved devotee. the heavens above will surely hate them further for such an act of blasphemy, but it matters little in the grand scheme to a pair of sinners like them. they will sin, theyâll never stop sinning as long as they breathe. any others are only more to the pile that would burn with them. that in itself is fine. that is only part of what shall be their love driven by poisonous affection, tenderness that kills them, and vulnerability that grabs them by their poor throats as an offering for forgiveness from the heavenly rains above.
but she says nothing at first, not until she grabs hold of that very same hand that brushes its knuckles against her cheek. not even until she kisses the back of it, another act of worship in how her lips glide tenderly along the skin as if in thought about this offering her dear goddess demands. love could never stop at being something sweet and gentle, what suits them best is a love that will kill them metaphorically, figuratively as it has demands of them of its own for what shall be the price for their gravest sin. falling in love as predator and prey, predator who so clearly delights in giving a greedy goddess her demands. this is a gift for her, something that would never belong to another.
this generosity only has meaning for her goddess, any others shall never taste it. not the pure devotion she can offer her, the addicting taste of that seeps into their fleeting time together. she does not like to share, either, mai. you neednât worry on that. sheâs made that clear the whole time what she thinks of sharing you already, theyâd all pay the price if they dared to think to touch you. keeping her forever is something she promised truly, especially now that she stirred within her the beast that always prowls within her mind.)
You want me all to yourself, do you? Iâm only yours, then, give me your greed and take my body as much as you desire. Iâll do the same in kind, Mai.
(a fitting vow to her goddess, of worship into that last kiss. they wonât make it far, thatâs true. the floor is already looking better than attempting such a futile move to drag them both to her bedroom. could they be patient? thatâs a loaded question, their patience is frayed naturally by one another existing. nothing could compare to the ecstasy offered to her, this love she grants her without knowing. oh, how foolish they must be, how blind they are to not realize the truth before their very eyes when cellinia with care scoops her lover into her arms from this lukewarm water. like the goddess she is, the princess she will be as heat thrums in her veins. she wonât allow her to leave this den without dreaming of her touch, those searing amber eyes of hers which pierce into what remains of this soul she has.)
Whatâs mine is yours, all that you give me is mine in turn. So give me your greed, donât even restrain it as you touch me.
(donât even give up for a second, perhaps this might be the closest mai could ever get to being a beast. but thatâs what makes it sweeter, that the genuine beast is too willing to show her how to rightfully take what belongs to her in this sinful affair. that sheâd grant her the chance to learn to be the beast she could be in her own way by embracing freedoms that no other could ever grant her in this miserable hell that is the world they live in.
sheâll pick her bones clean, and even allow mai to wear the pelt of a monster. allow her this rarest of chances, to become something more than human. thatâs the truest of freedoms that she could ever grant in these dark and tender vows that they whisper to one another in sinful delights. these bloodied promises that shall make the stage of their love, only they would not be granted the end that girls like them could ever find themselves at for daring to dream too big. they shall go against the world, step by step, she would change the fate of this girl and would never let go of her.
this girl who has half a soul, half a heart, shall find her home within a wolf.)
no subject
Date: 2025-06-19 11:53 am (UTC)There it is, the shadow of that beautiful monster that reaches out to her, beckoning her to bury herself within its dark freedomâ Mai can see it, creeping in the searing glint of Cellinia's eyes as they watch each other while trading these last kisses. Should she take its hand and follow it to that peak, how is she sure that she won't stumble and fall all the way to the bottom again? 'Don't restrain,' Cellinia demands her, as if she can see something that Mai doesn'tâ a place for her at the top, beside this gallant wolf. And even though Mai has only ever envisioned herself nestled in the cold, unfeeling earth, content to remain at the bottom rung for the rest of her sorry life, she feels the deep ache of being offered something she knows she has always wantedâ for someone to take her with them, to hold onto her and never let her go, never let her stumble or fall, no matter how little she has to offer in return. She wanted to know what it was like to see the entire world from the top, too, even if she would never be strong enough to make it even halfway on her own.
Cellinia, that which you ask of Mai is so simple. It's clear enough, obvious enough that she knows exactly what she should do, and how she ought to do it. Though far from an expert when it comes to her new lover, she had already mapped out the places upon her body that she would most enjoy letting her greed run rampant. That part, at least, is easy enough, no? It isn't as though the act of fucking needs to be so overthought, something she thinks that Cellinia would agree with her on. So, what is it, then, that gives her momentary pause before she gives her answer? Beautiful wolf, she desires you, there isn't a single doubt about thatâ it is herself that she hesitates in the face of. She doesn't think that there's a place for her at the top, but if you believe in her, then that alone will urge her forward in making herself whole with the freedom you so generously hold out to her.]
I won't. I promise I won't hold back on you, Cellinia.
[It isn't necessarily a lie, but rather a half-truth that Mai feels compelled to delude herself into believing, if only until she is able to make it a reality with her own two hands. Her voice doesn't betray her, the tone and cadence every bit influenced by the trained confidence that has gotten her this far in life. Likewise, her own touch is firm in its resolve to give Cellinia every ounce of that greed that she demands for herself. There is only that split-second of self-doubt that flickers in her hazel gaze, snuffed away as soon as she flutters her lashes coyly to cement her own vow.
Continuing as they are in the cooling water is quickly becoming more and more bothersome. Despite how, normally, taking this adventure of theirs to the floor of the bathroom would lack the appeal of going somewhere more acceptable, their already-infamous patience (or lack thereof, really) is determined not to let them go any further than this. Perhaps this can be a task of sortsâ a proof to their budding affection that they can make an altar of any place they desired so long as their appetite for one another fuels these vows exchanged, wordless or otherwise.
There isn't a lick of resistance when Cellinia takes Mai up in her arms, the ease with which she does so serving as a silent reminder that of course a beast who had easily promised to vanquish her lover's monsters isn't troubled by an act as simple as this. The cooled air against her wet skin doesn't bother her too terribly, not when the heat of Cellinia's body still permeates from their close contact, seeping deliciously into every space that only frays her patience even more. Once again, the two of them will make a beautiful ruin of each other's body before the last drop of water evaporates from their flesh.
Any towels kept around for normal use can still soak up the dripping bathwater, just in a manner more unorthodox than intended. Cellinia's bed shall be spared another ruinous romp, for now, with the tiled floor taking its place as the stage for their truly troublesome attraction to one another. Haphazardly, the fluffy fabric will be tossed about wherever they'll decide to indulge in each other yet again. Ah, sweet wolf, will you be able to enter these rooms again and not imagine the sinful pleasures you've enjoyed in each one with your pretty little prey? Not even Mai will be able to shake the memories of how shameless she'll have behaved when spurred on at the behest of her devoted lover.]
no subject
Date: 2025-06-20 02:21 am (UTC)nobody else could have what they have, not even those nameless fools mai is afraid of. this gentle lead she takes for her would pull this goddess back from the bottom, if she were to stumble and fall on the way. perhaps even gently lead her with a sense of care beyond those that wanted nothing more than to use her. these steps taken in this dance could have clumsy missteps and moments which theyâd fall, but they did not need to worry nor restrain themselves. they would learn. stumble, fall, this wolf is here to keep you as her one and only. she didnât need to have another, what she wanted is before her whenever she realizes in the future that this went beyond what you both thought to be moments of desire fueled lust. that she could only ever want you, all to herself, that she would kill for you in reality while longing to never let go. her hands are too comfortable on her body, even as the wolf has to part long enough for those fluffy towels to be set about for more comfort on a freshly washed bathmat. the bathmat itself was soft and fluffy, but she is not going to allow her goddess to not have additional comforts. floor or not, they can make another ruinous altar from her bed some other time.
itâs only when sheâs done that cellinia reaches, reaches to brush her fingers against maiâs cheek. tracing it slowly down to her neck, her collar, along those bruises and teeth marks that she left on her ribs. that she settles on top of her, a searing admiration in those eyes even as she notices that momentary doubt or thought she saw something. whatever doubts you might have, dear goddess, would fade given time. sheâs thinking about all the places she wants to carve her mark into down to your soul. the places that would only be known by her when her fingers pause, along her stomach where they brush against the skin slowly in thought. she could give her a show, a show in which sheâd be in her rightful place between her legs. but at the same time, thereâs something more intimate in kissing her goddess while granting her a worship that only her fingers could in every caress that sheâd feel within her. she decides that her mouth can be used to worship some other time. sheâll drink deep of her essence in the pleasures offered when desired most as her lips find their place against her loverâs pulse point, a scrape of teeth between each kiss and suckle of it.)
Good girl, you deserve a reward yourself, donât you?
(another mark, another place claimed as hers, even as she breathes those lovely words out against it hotly. another precious spot that could kill if she was not a merciful creature. she displays such mercies without a second thought, without thinking in how her hand is paused, her searing gaze as reverent as it does have that silent question to it. on if sheâd permit her sweet wolf to touch her again. she wonât act without her lover deciding the tempo, the lovely goddess who is being given the freedom for such things as she deserves. the wolf, her gallant wolf hungers, and sheâd be a liar herself if she didnât give her goddess every drop of touch and desire that she could ever want. holding herself back is only a struggle that is all the sweeter for what it gives as a reward.
she only wants you, lovely goddess. she could only ever desire this with you in how her lips glide along your neck, against the column of your throat. she must look so beautiful, the way her eyes glance up at her with a desire to memorize her expressions like she had the first time. she wants to see every twitch of pleasure, the way that mai sighs with each reverent touch on this makeshift altar of theirs. they can ruin it together, commit a blasphemy that heaven itself would turn away from while condemning them to this hell that awaits them in the future where their lives are so intertwined that nothing could dream of separating their bound hearts and souls from how deep theyâd have fallen together.
that is what awaits them, that isnât going to change.
what would change is the way that their fates are bound together, one would do anything for the other. sheâd give her goddess the world, the sun, the moon that blesses them, and the stars. the moon itself might even wrap them in its silver sheen while keeping safe their young hearts, whatâs left of them while allowing their cries of worship to be the offering it requires. those soft sighs, the sounds of their moans like songs alone when they lose all reason to greedy indulgence and desire. just like now in how cellinia finds another spot to kiss a mark into, another unblemished spot that she licks into to soothe between each kiss, each scrape of teeth and suckle of her mouth. she never will stop thinking about the things they've done, not after last night and now. she might even keep thinking about her, about everything done on these makeshift altars of sinful desires.)
no subject
Date: 2025-06-21 12:15 pm (UTC)Wordlessly, the answer to that question tingles under her skin, beneath the trail that Cellinia's fingers caress down along her body. Everything, Mai can feel everything, and her breath catches in her throat while she quivers from the sensations left in the wake of those gentle, calloused fingertips. That's itâ that's the reason why she still feels wanting, even after submerging herself in Cellinia's deluge of ecstasy several times over. Those hands upon her seem to grasp at something far beneath the thorn-studded surface, those eyes see something desirable, an oasis somewhere in the harsh desert. Foolishly, Mai had thought that she would have shed the awe she felt after the first time she was shown such careful tenderness, such rapt attention. Maybe even after the second timeâ but no, she's only become more ensnared. Even if Cellinia feeds Mai affection until she becomes utterly sick with love, her body would still find itself crying out in starvation for more. Rot her down to the bones with your poison, beloved wolf, for it's a death she would gladly chase if it means that she wouldn't have to leave your side.
Were she not basking in the pleasure of Cellinia's warmth, her breath fanning against her neck as she kisses and suckles at flesh that flutters with her quickening pulse, Mai would have given herself a scolding for getting too carried away and letting herself indulge in another messy, lustful bout. How impatient they are to take one another, to be taken, that they won't even bear the wait of going about this all in proper orderâ but nothing about their affair thus far has been the least bit proper. If Cellinia is adamant about their greed being glorified beneath the spotlight, then this greed shall indeed dictate that propriety be swiftly dashed aside. And if Mai is to lose herself to her own more beastly desires, then she need not think herself above doing as beasts would do, right? For a beast isn't beholden to a correct time or place, all it heeds is the primal desires that pool hotly in its loins, begging to be satiated in any manner that it can. It does not restrain itself, no, it doesn't hold back until every fiber of its being is bathed in the euphoria of release.
Rightâ Mai had promised not to hold back. A beast or a goddess, no matter which role she chooses to play, she can't be anything less than insatiable for her audience of one, her ever-attentive wolf who waits for her to take what is hers.
'Good girl,' Cellinia calls her. A stiff breath passes through Mai's lips, a scoff intended in reply, but instead carrying the weight of something decidedly more needy than huffy. It does something quite ruinous to her, makes her crumble just enough that she would want to do whatever she could to snatch more of that acclaim for herself. In truth, that praise is practically reward enough, but if Cellinia wants to give her more than that, then Mai would be stupid to play the modest little maiden. No, she promised to be greedyâ so when she gasps sharply at yet another mark left behind, Mai ignores the desperate flush that creeps upon her cheeks and splays her hand over the one Cellinia rests stop her stomach, rubbing her thumb over her knuckles with a partial urgency, a quiet demand to keep caressing her.]
Of course I do.
[But her haughtiness has been momentarily broken by Cellinia's casual praise, and if she isn't careful, then it would almost sound like she is nearly begging for that reward offered. But that isn't the kind of good girl that her lover wants. What Cellinia wants, Mai decides for her, is Mai's free hand gripping the back of her head, fingers buried in her damp hair as she ensures that her lips won't part from leaving proof of their hunger upon her skin. What her wolf wants is to feel Mai's greed spilling out in the heat of their bodies connected, held fast against one another as if they were molded perfectly to fit together like this upon their makeshift altar. What she wants is Mai entangling their legs just a bit, her knee brushing idly against Cellinia's thigh as her body hums at having her so close once more.]
But, spoil me too early, and I'll forget that I have to earn that reward, won't I?
[A half-baked caution, mused aloud. Mai chews slightly at the inside of her lip as her eyes catch Cellinia's while the wolf leaves her kisses wherever she pleases. Oh, of course she looks absolutely beautiful as she does so, Mai can't help but find herself captivated again by her searching gaze. Does she find what she seeks, does she enjoy what her eyes drink in? The blush making itself at home upon Mai's skin, the way her eyelashes flutter quickly whenever Cellinia's lips brush against a particularly sensitive spot upon her neck. Do her precious ears revel in the way that Mai gasps and sighs softly whenever her lover finds a new spot to leave another love bite? Does it not feel splendid to have her goddess squirm and shudder beneath her, the heat from her body growing in a display of exquisite enjoyment of this sweet intimacy shared?
Mai can't stand how perfect it feels, how magnificent Cellinia looks devoting herself like this. She can't stand how badly she wants more, how desperate she knows she'll become for it the moment she can't have any more. When she speaks again, her voice is soft, breathy, but her words are resolute, as if she has at last understood the depths of her own desires.]
âŠDo it. Reward me so well that all I'll be able to think about it earning it afterward, Cellinia.
[If Cellinia wishes to give her the entire world and every last star that casts its silvery light across the endless skiesâ if that is the grand magnitude of this act of worshipâ then Mai will gladly repay this priceless gift of devotion until her last breath. Yes, just as Cellinia would show Mai what it is to become a proper beast for a spell, Mai will venerate her wolf as a veritable goddess, herself. She'll show her just how prettily she can get on her knees to worship, and earn every last bit of affection she has to give.]
no subject
Date: 2025-06-22 04:35 am (UTC)proper order, there wasnât a need for it. sheâll rot you down in this sweetness, dear goddess, she wonât let up until every drop of poison melts you together and ties you further into fateâs whims. starved, hungry, and never bound to be satisfied, not even bound to find themselves full as this debauched altar demands. she shows it in her eyes, she would never lose that awe to them and desire. the want and desire to memorize her sighs, her expressions. how her hands reach through thorns that cover them mutually to give her such careful tenderness. the attention and how rapturous it must be to be worshiped like a goddess. that must be reward enough, the utterances of her most treasured devotee and how those hands find a place along her body. to make it her own alone. nobody else would have her, not as long as her sweet wolf breathes. not as long as she marks her skin in kisses and love bites, offerings of her own in more debauched worship as they ignore reason for something else.
her lips are against her collar, her eyes never leaving her goddesses face. the flush to her cheeks, the fluttering of her lashes, the sound of her voice as she shudders when her lips find that sensitive spot. a spot that she licks into slowly with a wolfish tongue whilst her hand travels lower at the brush of her goddesses thumb against her knuckles. their hands together when it trails downward, her fingers parting her lips to tease and feel her along the wet heat of her sex. she can almost smell it, the thick scent of arousal. mouthwatering as celliniaâs lips work their way to one breast, to run her tongue along the soft skin sheâs marked again slowly. ah, she tastes so heavenly. so good, is what cellinia thinks whenever she takes a nipple gently between her teeth and rolls it with her tongue. each lick of it something gentle, something tender. she almost moans from the taste of her skin mixed into the water, how can one girl make her desire so much?
she isnât so sure, she only knows that she likes it. that she wants more of this, of her. consequences be damned about doing this out of order. she didnât care before, she doesnât now as the wolf releases her nipple eventually at her loverâs words. make her want to think about how to earn these rewards, huh? she can do that for her goddess, sheâd only ever want her to desire more of such praise. maybe even more of whatever her greedy heart could ask for from the wolf. keep sighing sweetly for her, beautiful goddess, keep making those sounds and giving her these lovely sights. she looks so enthralled, so much like she finds herself hungering for more of those expressions and sighs. her moans, even, when the wolf decides she shouldnât keep her goddess and her pleas waiting for too long.
the entangling of their legs is only part of what her devoted wolf is after, the rest? thatâs obvious whenever sheâs slow about her fingers pressing into that wet heat. one at first, then another joining to grant her one urge. to be full and touched until her voice is raw again.)
You asked then, Mai, Iâll give you as much as your greed could ever desire, youâre mine after all, arenât you?
(she says it so sweetly, that question, how she whispers it against her lips and kisses her deeply. mine, she says. they both donât know what that might entail, but itâs going to be apparent the longer this goes on. that she would keep a lonesome goddess as her own. nobody else would take her from the den of a wolf that is protective, protective and willing to shed their blood to get what she wants. what reactions might she give her now? those wild eyes, they look so pleased, to learn again and again how her goddess wants to be touched. how she even desires to give her those cries, the attempts at haughtiness amused the wolf. the wolf, who knows that her goddess is a cute liar when she wants to hide such things from her. itâs so precious, to see that she wants to entice her further with that by playing coy and hiding behind teasing and scathing remarks that were half-hearted.
itâs so very good, to hear it. why wouldnât it be? itâs the chase that also makes it sweeter, such as now in how she touches her goddess. the pump of her fingers starts slowly, steady, how could she not answer her desires, too?)
I wonder what kind of rewards youâd ask for from me. Will they be sinful, or will they be something sweet?
(she sighs it out between each kiss, each lick of her tongue. the wolf can guess what the obvious answer would be, but sheâs learned to indulge her lover in these imaginative exercises that theyâve both begun sharing. it didnât matter how it started, they both indulged one another a little too much to behave. their patience being so thin when faced with each other is proof of that, and cellinia is usually the more patient predator of them. yet thatâs fine, she doesnât mind this change. to give her more of her bestial desires, those instincts that run hot in her.)
no subject
Date: 2025-06-24 01:52 am (UTC)In a way, Mai forgets that she should feel ashamed of appearing so vulnerable, when her lover is swathing her in such attentive care. The ardor with which Cellinia journeys her way across her body is more than enough to stoke the fires of the ravenous beast that she encourages Mai to become. This wolf shows her thoroughly how to savor her meal, only grazing her sharp teeth in the places where she knows she'd get the most delicious reactions out of Mai, these clipped gasps and muted groans that fill the scant space between them. Another sensitive spot marked for Cellinia, and Cellinia alone. An amusing notion, that perhaps more and more of Mai's body has become increasingly sensitive to whatever manner of touch that this focused lover might lavish upon her. That wherever she wants to lay her possessive kisses would undoubtedly send a rush of exhilaration through Mai's veins, flooding her with enough adoration to drown her in it.
A low whine slices through the otherwise quiet breathlessness, drawn out between the dual sensations of Cellinia's tongue running over collar, and her fingers sliding down lower, lower until they stop where Mai is aching for her most. Good, that's rightâ show her by example, Cellinia. Show her how splendid it is to let one's appetite burgeon and consume everything that its relentless flames lap at. Mai is all too ready to ignite beneath her skilled touch, oh, how badly she wants to be on fire for Cellinia again. Surely her beautiful wolf can already feel it, when her fingertips drag teasingly between her lips, coating themselves in the slick, hot arousal that only grows whenever she caress her just right. Mai's hand remains loosely over Cellinia's at first, wishing to feel each small, careful motion with which she relays this promise of pleasure.
As soon as Cellinia's lips kiss tenderly over her breast, she is rewarded with the sweetest of sighs against her sharp ears. Those fingers of hers do not let up for a single moment while her tongue gently plays with the sensitive bud of flesh that stiffens prettily for her attention. Enjoy her for a bit, Cellinia, for Mai finds that her lover is in the perfect place for her mouth to have some fulfillment of its ownâ first, Mai's lips purse tightly around the edge of one fluffy ear, and she breathes out a small frustrated groan in response to the stimulation she's receiving at the same time. For the time being, she lets her eyes flutter shut as she suckles and nibbles gracelessly, grateful to have some way to muffle how needy she sounds from these maddening touches alone. Too bad, that she can't conceal the dismay in her eyes when Cellinia at last pulls away, drawing herself up to meet Mai face to face again. It's written in her goddess' slightly furrowed brows, the flush deeper on her cheeks as she gives a half-convincing poutâ at least, until that expression becomes one far more blissful, and a whole lot more honest, at what Cellinia decides she'll do next.
After having worked Mai up quite nicely, there's hardly any resistance against the fingers she slowly pushes past her entrance. A shallow exhalation soon dissolves into loud, sharp whimper the deeper she goes, and Mai's body fast remembers how perfect Cellinia feels inside of her like this. Instinctively, her walls flutter and cling to her fingers. A strong relief washes over Mai, but the ache for this satisfaction does its battle all the same with the peace she wants to revel in.
She returns the kiss before she answers that tenderly-whispered question, and the kiss is delightfully messy, half-ruined by tiny gasps that find their way past Mai's lips.]
Mm-hmm, right⊠I-I'mâ
[Any other time, and Mai would absolutely hate how desperate her eyes might look, searching Cellinia's eagerly once she hears that one beautiful terrible word: Mine. But Cellinia knows just how to get Mai where she wants herâ a quick learner, this wolf. All Mai can do, is follow her lead. She has learned, too, after all, that her lover enjoys hearing Mai eagerly concede to being her possession.]
I'm yours.
[It goes without saying,â but why not say it? For it excites her to speak it aloud, just as it must excite Cellinia to hear it confirmed so ardently.]
Hmph⊠T-Too late to ask for something sweet, with you touching me like thisâŠ
[Her attempt at a sneering retort is flimsy, broken by a shaky whimper as Cellinia begins to ease her fingers in and out of her. She can't hide from those keen eyesâ but does she even want to? Mai's fingers at the back of Cellinia's neck dig in just a bit more, keeping those eyes firmly on her, as if she wants this beautiful demise of hers to be watched without fail. You know it already, sweet wolf, what a lovely little hypocrite Mai can be.]
Butâ
[Their kiss breaks for a moment, and Mai breathes out a harsh sigh when she feels Cellinia press even more slowly, more deeply into her. Her eyes search her lover's for another quick moment, that attentive gaze that hasn't left a single detail of Mai's blissful reactions out of her sight. Nothing escapes Cellinia's watch, no, not even Mai herself can ever escape so long as her wolf wills it. How perfect Cellinia is, the beauty that she boasts all the more frightening because the beast within her knows just how well to attune itself to the object of its relentless desire.]
âbut you'd give it to me, if that's what I wanted.
[These little exercises in imagination are plenty enjoyable, especially when they teeter so close to becoming reality. It's evident enough in the way that Mai's body reacts to these suggestions that she relishes indulging in this bit of play, even if her own cheekiness is fast-fading.]
Y-Yeah, I already knowâ you'd want to give me everything.
[How noble of Mai, to acknowledge Cellinia's devotion with whatever slivers of pride she can cobble together in the position that she's in.]
So why should I choose, hm?
[Sweet or sinful, what good is her greed if she can't demand both manners of rewards? Ah, Celliniaâ how you yourself have become the most insidious of poisons, so quick to have Mai drunk on the power that is fed by her own neediness. After all, you've mercilessly ripped her from the shadows that she would have cowered in, where she would have crumbled and given in to the gloom, not finding herself worthy of any reward. Where else is she to turn, then, but towards the unnerving vision of her own greed, and fulfill the desires that it nearly brands into her very heart? For it has no intention whatsoever of being restricted, a rather wicked declaration largely inspired by Cellinia's own urging from before.
So, darling wolf, both shall be hers, no? How could you present to her the options and not expect her to want it all, this third choice that you've given her the confidence to visualize? A reward so sweet will be the pretty words falling from your lips, while your sinful fingers draw the most unholy sighs and groans from your lover. Or perhaps, that mouth of yours is better suited to speaking utter filth into your greedy goddess' ears, as your loving touch finds itself at home within her slick heat, making her body feel as if no other sweetness could ever compare.
Mai draws her in for another deep kiss, her tongue gliding pleasantly against Cellinia's, while her hand leaves her lover's to now grab tightly at her scarred hip. She can't say it, that this alone is enough reward. Though, it thrills her plenty to imagine what more she could possibly attain, the thoughts alone arousing her all the more.]
no subject
Date: 2025-06-28 10:01 am (UTC)how she moaned for her before she came up, to kiss her after taking that time to work her up into being so aroused. a lesson in freedom that only something like a wolf could bring with those beautiful moans, the sighs that escape her lips after that cute pout. she must really love playing with her ears, being able to preoccupy her mouth from their adorable reactions to her goddesses lips and tongue running along the sharp outline of them. the issue is more that cellinia likes to have her mouth on mai too much, sheâll need a different lesson in patience. one which might result in her being restrained again so that her beautiful goddess could touch her into not restraining the bestial and baser instincts that she carries. would that be good for you, mai? seeing her like this more often, all for your eyes alone? she would hope so, as her fingers work into a steady rhythm. the stroke of them against her walls as they pump in and out.
plunging themselves deep, deep enough that the half-ruined kiss and her goddesses broken groans, sighs, are music to her ears. the right thing needed to stir up those instincts. she needs so much more of it, so why would she hold back? mai wasnât a liar when it came to knowing this much about cellinia from their time together, as short as it is, being illuminating on what the wolf desires and what sheâd do for her in those vows and promises. she was a hypocrite, but that was fine. she finds that part of her that tries to act cute, to lie and behave like she didnât intend for the opposite to happen, to be another adorable part of her. itâs something else thatâs mesmerizing when it comes to her goddess. her little red riding hood who was tortured from this sweet pleasure and poison offered by a wolf. the hungering desire of her as she poisons her, as mai even poisons her darling wolf into wanting only the love she could offer as her own.
they needed nothing more than that in how this ignites something fierce, burning them up to pieces. like cinders. they could be reborn by this affair of theirs whenever love desires it most. demand, seek it out, desire it, and even take it. she has so much to give, so much to let her goddess take from this worship. to have in her greedy hands while realizing the truth of the matter. cellinia would give her everything. everything down to her soul, her body, and this sweet poison she carries. what good was resisting? it only makes it linger more as they carry on in this ruinous affair. mai would get whatever she desires most, cellinia could even offer her sin in her words and sweetness in her touch. or sin and her touch and sweet words vividly spoken to paint a picture of debauchery that only two girls such as them could ever hold within their hands.
the delightfully messy kiss, the indulgent brush of their tongues seeking one another, this is true bliss. something close to it between the way their bodies fit together, the moans fed to her lips and mai taking hold of her scarred hip to drag her closer. a thing of beauty, even when so desperate for her and needy. even while she attempts to hide what she wants like the hypocrite that she is, the liar that her beautiful goddess could be while the wolf can feel it in how their hearts pound together. why wouldnât she want more? itâs torture to resist, itâs torture to tell herself that she shouldnât while the reasonable side of her mind struggles in vain to fight against what the animalistic side desires more. what that starved part of her heart canât help in its cravings for her goddess.)
Iâd always give it to you.
(she would, without question, she didnât have to choose as the wolf utters those words breathlessly between kisses. between the glide of their tongues, shared breaths, and heat thrumming in her veins. sheâs such a mess herself, letting go this quickly for a girl that knew how to wind her up into whatever she desired more for the mood. a loving devotee, a girl who worships her body like it means something against the shadows which threaten to take her back down into the ink black darkness. her handsome wolf, her beautiful lover, with those piercing eyes who stares at her so reverent. she doesnât restrain her urge to commit blasphemous sins and commit to memory this girlâs loveliest of expressions.
just like she wants in how cellinia felt the way those fingers dig into the back of her neck, this beautiful demise is hers to watch alone. donât ever dare to give it to another again, mai, take her deeper down this bottomless ocean. your manmade heaven will be built carefully, crafted with such care that not even those fools who wished to end you would be able to breach it. sheâd make sure of that in how cellinia looks positively wild by the spark in her eyes. that spark of desire that seems to never go away once mai starts to push her into reacting, but could she be blamed for that? neither of them could be, not without equal blame for what this has caused and what would come from it at the end of their journey.)
Why ask whenever you can get both, whenever you can demand it from me. Like now, look at you, so beautiful. Your body fits so wonderfully against mine, it takes me so well.
(never mind that she doubts her dirty talk sounds proper, but itâs befitting of her to have sinfully sweet words and praises. only the sweetest of filth would slip from those kiss bruised lips that keep coming back for more of her taste. that need to preoccupy themselves against her mouth, her skin, wherever they find themselves at.
this beautiful and savage wolf, covered in ink and scars, she can only belong to one woman and one person. if only she realized that person is right in front of her, that this girl who cries out for her so prettily is the one that shall have her. this is a dance for two, a stage for two, however they wish to call it. not a shared stage with any other soul but one another who would so naturally desire to keep whatâs theirs. their lover is only theirs, any other that tried would find themselves on the receiving end of their brutal garden and joined thorns. there would be no taking them away from this den as they fall deeper down, pushed deeper into what would be their lives.)
What I want is to hear you, be it sinfully sweet or filthy. I want you to touch me, to claim me like how I am you. Mark me as I have your body. Your own canvas, the way that I make yours into mine.
(take her the way you desire most, touch her like she doesnât need enough. thatâs only fitting, lovely goddess, your darling wolf only demands that you carve this mark deep down into her. that her body may never forget who claims it, who demands it more than anything. this is what she wants, greed in its purest of forms. raw passion, desire, and though they deny it, love itself that mixes into their lustful desires.)
I only need you.
(isnât that the sweetest thing, uttered as she kisses this girl so deeply? her tongue slick, licking into maiâs while her free hand reaches to trace along her loverâs body as best as she can. her battle worn fingertips tracing a path along her ribs, to her breasts when it cups one of them. it starts to even grab it, rolling a swollen nub of a nipple between her thumb and forefinger with each squeeze of it. the attention she gives is something only fit for her goddess, they wouldnât know what this true worship is.
they wouldnât even know the sinful way that the wolf would worship you at any time that you wanted, mai. so be greedy, take all of it from her. demand it all. sheâll give it to you. what good was having this greed if they restrained themselves from it?
nothing was good if they did, that was something long since decided from the start of this affair of theirs. because of it, cellinia could only let out these desires. this care that she gives out with the intent of not letting someone else take away what is rightfully maiâs. the tender affection, the poison on her lips between each harsh kiss. how theyâre nearing graceless desperation.
this is what she will have on this makeshift altar of many, cellinia would make certain of that.)
no subject
Date: 2025-07-09 09:43 am (UTC)The more that Mai lets Cellinia lead her, the more she allows herself to observe without giving in thoughtlessly to the sweetness of their intimacies, the better she can see where her own path could entangle with that of a beast. She can follow the thread masquerading as the kisses that Cellinia is impatient to indulge in, despite how she seemed to enjoy the feel of Mai's mouth upon her ears. True, the greed is there, lurking, anticipating the moment where it can bask in all of its unhindered glory. But it wearsâ and convincingly soâ the image of something patient and yearning. This lesson of theirs demands more of Mai than might have been earlier considered. Perhaps it even demands more of Cellinia, her very guide. To love a human as a beast, to love a beast as a humanâ somewhere in the middle, they might find that each is more a reflection of the other than they would have ever fathomed.
Each step of this beautiful dance calls upon Mai to rise above the swelling waves of bliss that want to whisk her away. Cellinia, effortlessly, leads her across this stage of theirs with her touch, and when she hotly murmurs her sin-soaked adoration, it's as if she is orchestrating the very unrestrained reactions that Mai's body gives her. How she shudders and tightens reflexively around her when Cellinia praises her, calling her beautiful when she has her like this. Of course, Mai thinks, wants to blurt out, that Cellinia would be lucky if she'd ever have anyone more beautiful than Mai Zen'in holding her close, and closer still because she can't get enough.]
C-Celliniaâ
[But she doesn't utter whatever petulant remark she might've otherwise wanted to wind up her lover with. No, she can't reply with anything other than a breathless almost-laugh, and Cellinia's pretty name twisted into something akin to a plea. How will her good little pup answer her? Will she give her more, more of both her touch and her filthy praise, and feast her eyes on just how beautifully Mai can unravel for her? With every deep, possessive plunge of Cellinia's fingers into her wet heat, Mai stops trying to bite back the shaking whimpers. What good is there in denying this pretty display from what is hers? Let her hear this raw desire and unadulterated greed, let her taste the desperation in each kiss that Mai breaks prematurely with her clipped gasps.
Her sweet wolf enjoys how splendidly Mai takes the relentless pleasure that Cellinia builds up between her hips, does she? How terrible, utterly terrible of this beast, the way she ruins her with how sweetly she speaks to her, all the while her hands take their impatient fill of Mai's body. And she spoils her like this, Cellinia summoning the greed to devour on what she rots away with her devotionâ that which doesn't belong anymore in the prize she has claimed for her own.]
O-Only need me?
[Cellinia's breathtaking declaration is echoed in the strained notes of Mai's voice. Fiery pride flashes in her eyes, only tempered by the lapping tides of awe at hearing such words. Her lover's need competes with the touches she so deftly gives, and it's hard to say which of them causes Mai's body to react so hotly, a notable trembling in her limbs at the calloused fingertips explore their way up along her torso. And when they dance over her ribs, higher and higher, to then cradle the soft flesh of her breast, a soft mewl of approval is hummed into their kiss. It's utterly splendid, this attention fed to her without abandon, sending deeper rushes of pleasure in waves through her body just when she had acclimated to the bliss of the sensations. A sharp gasp is stifled in response to Cellinia's fondling, the way she teases at the nipple between her fingers stoking Mai's nerves and feeding the heat pooling in her stomach as Cellinia's ceaseless fingers are met with more of her dripping essence with every thrust.
Part of her wants to repay the careful tenderness, but when she drags her nails up along from Cellinia's hip, leaving rosy lines that only deepen in their hueâ is the sweetness that her darling wolf wants in return not this? Marking her in ways that, even if only temporarily, would remind her of the sting of Mai's ache for her. A shame, that these will fade, a shame that they'll have no choice but to offer themselves up to each other repeatedly until these marks of ownership become scars of love that stretch across their very souls.]
Tell me again. Tell me again, Cellinia.
[Praise, affectionâ whatever one wishes to call it, Mai wants it. Needs it, a more apt conclusion, or craves it. For this much, the greedy little animal inside of her that waits for its chance to shine, digs through her reluctance with claws too sharp. And they sink, deeply, deeper still, latching onto Cellinia though not drawing a single drop of blood. It finds its well-earned throne in the hopeless, passionately messy kisses that Mai steals from her lover, and it makes its demands in the hand she grazes over the scar on Cellinia's abdomen. Lower, lower, the greed simply won't be satisfied until Cellinia's pleasure is at Mai's mercy, as well. How excited does it make you, pretty wolf, breaking your lover down so adoringly? It'd be foolish to think that Mai's curiosity won't be getting the better of her, at the behest of this greedy shadow.]
Tell meâ [there, there is that undeniable begging in her voiceâ the one that no one else will ever get the privilege of hearing, just as Cellinia desires ] âtell me, and I'll make you beautiful.
[And she will, that's a promise. She shall flood your veins with a pleasure that'll feed your addiction, Cellinia, and leaves you in bliss only to suffer in misery when the thrill has worn off. It's not so different from the way you're calling upon Mai to sin with youâ she already knows she'll be tormented by the memories of this brief fling, and she loathes it. Wallow in the anguish with her, then, won't you? Her greed isn't as pretty as yours, not yetâ but that's fine, isn't it? Even those sharp eyes can find something beautiful in the way that Mai's fingers trail between Cellinia's thighs, stroking hungrily over sweetly sensitive places. Because that's how Mai longs to make Cellinia into something even more beautiful for her own eyes, sparkling with yearning and pleasure. Perhaps her wolf will have to enjoy her kisses while she can, Mai's greed might soon latch onto a craving for a different kind of taste⊠]
no subject
Date: 2025-07-25 05:13 pm (UTC)love will be their doom. it is their ruin, the one thing that shall never be forgotten in the deep etchings of scars and pain within them. cellinia is slow, slow to lead this dance even with sweet words of longing, of offerings that should have never been spoken. she says them, regardless, she dances so beautifully as they lean away from something like fucking to making love. that terrible and ruinous emotion which fuels lovers into surrendering what little they have left to whatever heaven may exist. those words, so pretty, they were said without knowing that it was only another spell of their doom in which theyâd at the end never be the same as they were before. sheâd show her such delights, the whispers, while letting go of what had been their sanity. their mundane and pathetic reality, which fades further away the longer they spend in this carefully crafted altar. this sacred place, fending off the thoughts of how undeserving they are.
about how they never deserved this, love never was to be in their hands. but she calls her beautiful, she says so truly, the words that only drive the nail deeper into their mutual coffin that would be the future. i only need you, what tainted words could only ever be felt by them who never knew the beauty of it. being needed, being wanted. having a home, a place to belong to without fear of being shunned for what they are. theyâre only two foolish girls who made the mistake of telling themselves love was a game that would destroy their poor hearts further for trying to make sense of it. to chase it, even. the sound of mai crying out for her, that desperate plea in her voice as she says her name. not the last name she holds scornfully close as the only survivor, but cellinia. she wants to hear it more. taste it, even, on the lips of her goddess as she cries out such sinful sounds that would put even the most practiced of singers to shame. thereâs nothing more beautiful than this. to see it, to feel her unraveling before the sharp eyes of a wolf.
pull her nearer, even while they kiss so breathless and graceless.
whatever remark can stay silenced, they both didnât need to hear it. just looking at her is enough to stir her baser instincts. sheâs made that claim all the more personal with saying those tainted words, those words which hold to them something deeper. past what should have been a fling, a simple tryst. oh, they truly were foolish for them to not realize what theyâre getting themselves into by willing something like that into existence by how they play at ignoring the emotions that stir. love at first sight, ignorance at first sight with their pretending. the sweet wolf canât take her eyes off her dear goddess. what a beautiful sight, unraveling before sharp eyes that would commit every gasp and sigh and expression to memory. possession, want, and greed.
itâs wicked, how this devoted beast could be so hungry. so desperate itself in how she kisses this girl, this is what true devotion feels like. looks like. the plunge of her fingers deep into that wet heat, the feeling of her arousal dripping out more from each greedy thrust of them. there would be no restraint, not as long as mai willâs for that. she would be given every drop of greed and devotion. every taste of sinfully sweet and unholy words on her tongue, itâs solely hers to have, to cherish. there would be no other, nobody other than her. mai could count on that from cellinia, her ever devoted beast, who would sooner lash out were someone to try and suggest she needs to worship another.
the sweet music of maiâs voice straining is enough to stir up something fierce within her, that sound is only another part of the beauty in this sinful siren song. her hands are attentive, the unrelenting thrust of her fingers, the fondling of her breast with care, while maiâs voice causes this wolf to be unable to look away more than usual. that mewl of approval and how her body trembles is only all the sweeter for this beast of hers. isnât it so good of her, mai? sheâs giving you so much of her. sheâs even giving you more than any person could ever try to, nobody else could compare to your sweet wolf, can they? sheâs beyond a human in her reverence, donât you want to see the way sheâd treat your body so tenderly, treat you like all others couldnât compare to you?
she can feel it in how she scratches those rosy lines along her hip, she could even feel it in the way mai returns this tenderness with her own devotion. a wish to mark her wolfâs body in scratches and marks that would have to be renewed again and again. carving them past scars that were carried, crafting them carefully into a message of love or devotion of their own without acknowledging the pitiful truth behind it. that this is love. they wonât be returning from love, theyâd only die from it and be born again for their troubles.
ah, but her greedy goddess reminds her, sheâs not one to hold back when she pleases. cellinia is reminded quickly, especially when maiâs hand goes lower. brushing up against that nasty scar, against sensitive places of her own, while cellinia breathes out a shaky sigh in response in their kisses. the passionate and messy kisses, hopeless, but wanting more. more than anything, the utter wanton pleasure between them just waiting to be released from its shackles. the beast can only be in awe at seeing how her goddess loves most to hear those words. the ruinous words that were proclaimed.
should she say it again for you, mai? the sweet touch of your fingers is torture, in how her own voice strains. more, give her more. give her everything, give her this devotion of your own. give her this greed thatâs running through your veins, sink your claws into her like she wonât belong to another herself. donât hold back, lovely goddess. this wolf has a taste for you and your sweet affection. this poison that you give her as it rots her down into this devoted monster that she will be for you.)
I only need you.
(does she need to say it louder, mai? because she might, she might if she demands it. the way her voice strains from pleasure, the drip of arousal and how wet she is for her. it would be so easy to slip her fingers inside if mai wishes to, cellinia wouldnât stop her from doing what she wanted. her lover can touch her freely, they could let go together if she really desired it for this show of sinful devotion on their makeshift altar. her greed didnât need to be a thing of beauty, cellinia would still be awestruck by it. it would get there in time, and even if it did not, cellinia would always find it beautiful. she can taste her as much as she desires, itâs only fitting that the wolf doesnât demand any less than that. she wants to be tormented, to be haunted by it. from this pure agony of knowing they would for a time be apart. so feed your desires, mai, she wants that more than anything.
sheâd never stop chasing her if she did.)
no subject
Date: 2025-08-17 08:47 am (UTC)Or maybe Mai would be the one to disappear, unceremoniously and without mourning, cast to the monsters as she has been. She'd die without ever being needed again, she figured, an empty loneliness that was befitting of a soul half-formed.
But in the same twist of fate that had birthed her into that family, Mai Zen'in has found herself being desiredâ neededâ by a beautiful monster.
It bewilders Mai, as she takes in the ragged and strained voice that utters such desires to her, while her own hands slip ever-closer to where she really longs to be. It bewilders herâ it's as though she is staring Death in the eyes and it demands that she lives. Cellinia is a paradox, a beautiful anomaly, and if Mai had any sense she'd run from her, as far as she can from those mesmerizing eyes. Instead, she holds her closer, because the only sense Mai can make of things is that being needed mattered far more than surviving ever could.]
That's right.
[A softly groaned approval, her own voice trembling from a poor attempt at maintaining composure while taking Cellinia's sweet touch. Mai breathes out sharply when her fingers delve in especially deep, and she decides to steal another graceless kiss from her lover's lips, foolishly hoping that she could steal the very air from Cellinia's lungs to make up for how breathless the wolf has left her from this declaration.]
That's right, Cellinia.
[What a good girl she is, better than Mai could ever try to be even at her most sincere. She hums her praise between their kisses, the desperation mutual and the sensations of their hands upon one another leaving their nerves in a frenzy. This is it, this is the feeling that Mai is so greedy for, giving herself up so wantonly to be cherished. It feels as mind-numbingly splendid as it did the night before, and she lets the sounds of her pleasure fall more easily from her lips when they part for air. Mai pants raggedly whenever Cellinia's fingers sink into her, her walls tightening around them reflexively, and she gives a low whimper whenever her lover draws herself free, even if it's only for a moment before plunging back inside.
It nearly drives her mad, practically to the point where she'd be content to let her mind drift in favor of the ecstasy daring to consume her, but there's something she wants to say while she still has her wits about her.]
And IâŠ
[But there's a split-second of hesitation, a wavering somewhere in the back of her mindâ reason daring to make her second-guess her real feelings. Mai kills it swiftly, that loathsome and unsurprising notion, treating it as if it were a trifling little curse at the end of her revolver. If only life could be so easy, if only she could really be so strong, so honest. Out there, in the real world, Mai knows exactly what she is. But here, atop this altar made of their entangled bodies, she wants to be as precious as Cellinia makes her feel. Reason has no place in whatever this whirlwind affair will lead her to, or will leave her in, once they finally part ways.
Mai's whole existence is unreasonableâ shall these feelings not be unreasonable, as well?
So, she kisses Cellinia again, hard and deep, their tongues slick against one another's. Mai groans hungrily when her fingers find another place where her beautiful wolf is sticky and slick for her. Her heartbeat quickens, a sense of pride and desire blooming hotly across her chest as she glides her fingertips teasingly between those lips. Savoring just how hot Cellinia feels, Mai caresses along her slit, dragging her knuckles softly along the soft flesh and marveling at how soaked her fingers become without even entering yet. Then Mai draws back just a bit, her gaze locked onto Cellinia's. A deep flush graces her cheeks but her eyes carry an unmistakable spark of boldness.]
I only need you, too.
[This vow, Mai breathes against Cellinia's lips, hushed as if a secret for her ears only. They've done well, these two foolish girls, crafting this makeshift sanctuary where they can entertain an even more foolish feeling, dancing around it, nurturing it with pretty words and prettier promises. They know exactly what they're doing, they know that this shall spell their ruinâ but haven't they already agreed to endure this beautiful fate at the other's hands?
Mai hasn't forgotten. She doubts that she ever could, no matter how shameful anyone else might have found her secret pleas to the beast she had willingly let herself be ensnared by. Here, together like this, her greed is allowed to burn away the shame etched into her bones.]
Just like this. Just for me.
[Her voice is a soft coo, alluring and yet needy, before she takes another kiss for her greedy self. Craving something more after letting her fingers have their teasing fun, Mai slows them to a halt against Cellinia's entrance, pressing two fingertips there for a moment. Her own body shudders and melts at the pleasure gifted to her by Cellinia's own hands, but the idea of the two of them eventually losing themselves to ecstasy together clings eagerly to her, and Mai eases her fingers into her lover without much resistance. She sighs in satisfaction at the feeling of being enveloped in her slick heat, wasting no time building a slow and steady rhythm of slipping in and out. Mai adds a third finger, partly out of impatience though mostly because she knows that her pretty wolf can take it. She doesn't hasten her pace, instead relishing the sensation whenever she sinks herself in deeply.]
CelliniaâŠ
[Oh, Mai could sigh her name like this foreverâ but, 'forever' would be too greedy, even for her, no?]
no subject
Date: 2025-08-18 07:26 am (UTC)but irony is such a delicious thing, cellinia is no saint, and thereâs proof of it in her choice to sin here and now with a girl who provoked ruin. whispers on a makeshift altar whereupon they choose what may or may not come of this union of theirs and how the other monsters might believe them to be something so terrible in their willful ignorance about the way something like love works. it would only be seen as a foolish endeavor, a game to those bastards who would never understand the way their hearts seem to react. what a funny thought that is, that they might even be able to make something of themselves in their eyes. the pretty wolf doesnât seem fazed by this position they found themselves in, not that sheâs had time to think about it and what it entails. what could possibly go wrong in this love which they ignore the makings of to play pretend. they arenât delicate maidens, but something more cruel than that in their own way. which makes this wolf saving this girl amusing. she doesnât seek to end this by rapidly devouring her, sheâs savoring the hunt and chase that it offers.
how it stimulates her mind, holds her attention without trying from how they both flirted, though cellinia never was a good flirt. that she might have been doing it more naturally speaks some volumes of what kind of presence that mai in her half-formed heart has by words alone and devious whispers of ruin. beautiful anomaly, paradox, it didnât matter what cellinia is at the end of it. if she could go against whatever the world, fate, anything such as that desires, then why not make it so for a pretty goddess while sweet death sought to originally take her for itself? itâs only fitting for a monster to rip away a poor wayward soul from deathâs very own icy grip by making the choices that change such a fate by taking her for herself.
so she whispers it, she needs this foolish girl. though they both are fools, were she to be more honest in that regard. fools who were so twisted into what they are now. there is no soul clean of anything between them. cellinia is transfixed on her, the pretty wolf, which has her eyes glimmer in darkly ignited pleasure. those eyes which are mesmerizing and pretty, sharp as they take in any details. like staring into the soul and deciding that theyâre not leaving. so pretty, so unwilling to look away.
she didnât have to.
all she had to do was listen to the way mai groans out so softly, her sharp breaths like music to the wolf who feels herself sighing out breathlessly sweet notes in response to the kiss. it was easy to steal away her breath by this goddess, theyâre both making mistakes that anyone sane would have avoided. that was far from mind for the wolf, not even until after this would cellinia start to think about it. if only slightly, she might not even bother to consider then until itâs too late that she had promised something more than most would have dreamed of for a girl who had nothing left except precious little that her greedy hands would have held tightly on to. something that cellinia understood too well, as she had been in a precarious position which would have ended her if not for one kind soul.
their kiss bruised lips and breathless sighs, moans, whatever they might call it are proof enough that theyâre only going to lose what grasp of reason and sanity that remains for them. having such things were only pointless when it comes to the affairs of monsters. it wasnât worth the energy to maintain that part of themselves with this kind of storm that entangles them. theyâll never be the same, that is true for cellinia. in the way she touches mai, itâs only another part of this carnal desire mixed with love that they willfully ignore.
she didnât need to think, she only needed the taste of her lips and the sound of her voice with each plunge of her fingers. the whimpers, her ragged breathing while her walls tighten around her fingers. how perfect is she for her? the wolf sees her as a lovely goddess, her own little red riding hood. just look at how pretty she is while with a deep flush across her beautiful face in response to pleasure being granted to her for her own reward in enduring for long enough for one of them to get her hair washed. for even hanging on tight as the wolf called her, hers, in response to the taunting she did.
itâs too perfect, especially in how she breathes out shaky sighs of her own between stolen kisses and their bodies having a deep craving on this makeshift altar. forget about reality, itâs done so little for them. itâs never been kind to girls like them, once bright-eyed and pure. cruel reality, it only offers another poison meant to tear them to pieces with doubt, hesitation, and darker thoughts about what offerings they gave in demeaning ways directed at themselves and their cursing of their vulnerability as though it were a worthless thing. unfortunate how it doesnât work that way with wishing it might disappear, the parts of themselves that could only ever long to be healed like wounded children that are deep within them.
children who didnât deserve the future given to them, though one had risen above the way it intended to destroy her for the crime of living past a night that would have killed her had she not be so fortunate. so lucky that their intentions, that the silver wolf and others within her life hadnât decided to allow her to live. she was worth more dead than alive in the old country to most. but not to them, them who thought her last name and the wretched way it carries a weight to it was worth that effort.
sheâll make her miserable existence, her going against reason, worth something more. more than those monsters had ever taught mai, this is a lesson in living freely. taking as she desires, saw fit, with an offering of a beastâs body and very own leash for a girl like her. itâs an exquisite gift, isnât it? her own beast, something she can mark solely as belonging to her and no other in these spoken words and whispers like theyâre keeping secrets from some manner of outside presences that could be listening. she wants that greed, she wants everything her goddess has to offer without realizing how much that sweetness would destroy them when the day comes for it to collect its due price.
the price of love in how she whines for her goddess, the caress of fingers along her wet folds. that tease of it is enough to make cellinia feel as though she would lose her mind without her touch, sheâs burning so hotly for her between that and the ever deepening kisses. the slick movements of their tongues. her body needs her touch, wonât she give her it? from the low whimper, the hungry groans they share between kisses, one would think she would die without her. without this in how it makes her feel, her own fingers are deep inside mai. they slow. almost as though to match mai while theyâre like this and restrain herself from pushing so soon to bring her red riding hood to the edge.)
Mai....
(so pretty, so lovely how her voice strains when maiâs own fingers sink into the wet heat. how she says her name, itâs so beautiful. her body didnât resist, it welcomes her in how she looks at her lover. beautiful ruin, her free hand finds itself reaching for mai. bringing them both nice and proper on their sides, close, so close and able to see one another better as they both made a choice. they wonât fall to ruin alone. mai desired cellinia to fall with her, then itâs only fitting her rhythm matches that of hers. sheâs being so good for her, as amusing as it is that they both could be only when their hands are preoccupied with their bodies.
her walls tighten around her fingers on reflex when mai adds a third finger, she could take it. she is taking it, so easily and even moaning breathlessly for her, such pretty sounds. into their kiss that her greedy lover takes again for herself. she almost melts from need. forever might be too greedy, but it might even be too greedy were mai to desire to keep hearing the way cellinia might moan her name in kind. the wolf already likes too well how her goddess loves to say her own name. what wonderful music they make while giving these prayers on the makeshift altar, she might never stop praying if it means she can see her again.)