crushed_pearls | Come Sail Away IC Inbox

"I ... don't know if there is a why." She tries to move to sit up, without breaking out of Erin's embrace; the topological difficulty this presents is a welcome distraction.

"It's ... I like it. I enjoy it. I think one would miss anything good, that way."

Erin is about to be real unhelpful in Cass's adventure here since she's hiding her hot blush against her lover's shoulder; 'I think one would miss anything good' hit her right in the heart, with a warmth that is still, despite her experiences here, all too foreign.

"And -- I am trying to think about this selfishly, for the moment, but -- it isn't just because you like it, but that's part of what I like about it? And I think I would ... I think I might miss being that for you. Even if ..."

She isn't expecting the little stabbing pain, like stepping on a piece of broken glass, that comes with forming the words in her mind before speaking them.

She makes herself say them anyway: "Even if you didn't. Miss it."

"I mean, I love the ego rush of pleasing the people close to me," Erin murmurs. "Knowing they're feeling good...hell, it even feels a bit powerful, at times."

Mostly with Crabb. Crabb's good at that.

"I have missed it, but I didn't wanna put pressure on. I...like it, when you take control like that."

She leans in a little, to rest her forehead against Erin's.

"Has it been worrying you? That I didn't ask?"

Erin bites her lip, looking...guilty.

But she does nod.

"I'm sorry."

And she tilts her head up and aside a little, to brush a kiss to Erin's temple.

A shuddering sigh; something tense just leaves Erin's body, and she melts, softly, into Cass. "It's okay," she murmurs. "It really is, that was some clownshoes shit on my part...but I...am at your command. If you want me to be."

( from: )

There's no fighting her. That's not the game here, not what 44's indicated she wants. She wants a softer touch. Wants that trust, even as Fever's complying and walking with her.

"You tell me. You already know I can't remember anything. Any answers would be in my childhood, and that's as lost as lost can be."

"Reports had it that sometimes you remember aspects of your culture when you're asked. It seems strange to me...but not bad."

44 sits her guest down, takes the sorceress's chin in her hand. Her dark eyes are soft.

"If you need me to slow down, or to tell me something, you say 'tap'. Need me to stop, you say 'mill'. Understand?"

"Tell your reports that expecting the meat scraps of my mind to recall anything specifically is up to the gods throwing dice in my skull."

But the bit of levity is dropped, and red eyes look back, before Fever nods.

"Tap and mill. Easy enough to remember."

"Good. Now relax...you'll get some blood on you but I think you of all people understand that I'm not using my good cooking knives on cloth."

44 leans in for a kiss, nipping, teasing, a back and forth affair...

So she can also watch what she's doing with her hand. It changes into a mass of razors, and with just one she drags slowly from 17's collar down, parting the cloth in a whispering motion.

She's about to respond that blood on her was hardly any form of issue, when instead 44 is kissing her, occupying her with a far better use of her time. She kisses back, and devoid of her hands to cradle 44's face, to touch as she'd please, she has to give her all to that instead. Hungry, but knowing she gets what she's given, and trying to make what she gives worth it.

Fever's shirt is cut open, and the air is a little cool on her skin as it falls away. There are scars that will need to fade, where that necromancer cut her apart, over and over, but they don't hurt. Merely marks of what happened back then.

Human fingers trail down those scars, the barest brush of tips; 44's nails are cut recklessly short. "You lived something that killed you," she murmurs. "...I know the feeling. The sharp thing you've become is gorgeous, 17."

"Sweettalker."

If she wanted, she could remind 44 that she is the something that got to kill her, when all is said and done. As it is, she'll give just a touch more, relaxing a hair under the light touch.

"...by all rights and reason and justice, I should have died. But I refused to."

Crawling out of her effective coffin with only a name and the drive to make whoever did it pay. Never mind the shoulds, at that point.

"That's me alright, sweet as lemons." 44 flashes a sharp grin, her shadow moving on its own to die laughing. She nips at 17's neck, kissing down and down, there's no rush...

As 44 gets lower, kissing down 17's breasts, lingering on her scars, those razors slice her belt, and then trail 17's pants.

There isn't a rush, but Fever's got as much energy as this place wants to allow her to have, and she wants to use some of it before the headache will kick in again. But she can't do too much to encourage like this, except to look pretty, tiny sighs escaping her when she feels lips on a sensitive spot.

No more durable than her shirt, 44's got her legs exposed now, and a thought comes to mind Fever can't shake off.

"...Tap." The pace isn't the problem, she just fidgets in place until she's toed off her shoes to kick them away. What, it feels weird to leave them on with all of this going on. "That's better."

They can go back to 44's pace now.

44 rocks back on her heels when 17 calls the tap, blinking in faint surprise - and then she sees why. A giggle builds up in her, and comes out as a mad and fierce laugh; she rests her hand on 17's hip to stay steady, lost, for now, in the moment.

She hadn't even thought about the fucking shoes!

"What? It's weird to have sex with your shoes on."

But the words come out as a laugh of her own, cracking a restrained smile over Fever's face.

"And forgive me if I don't want you cutting them up. Everything else is fair game."

44 quirks her eyebrows at 17 even as she returns her hand to normal (she wipes it on her pants, thoughtlessly). "And here I thought maybe you wanted me to suck all your blood out through your toes."

She pulls 17's socks off with a series of little tugs, making an exaggerated slurping sound every time.

That makes her laugh for real, having to bow her head, her shoulders shaking.

"If you didn't cuff me, I'd kiss you breathless for that."

And just because she can, she gives a small little pout. Her life is suffering because she is not the one who determines the pace of the kisses. Pity her, or shut her up, anything works.

44's expression goes teasing. She makes eye contact, smiling, happier than she's felt in...

...Let's not think about that.

"I could be persuaded, if you answer my harrowing riddle: do you prefer the version of this where I use a dick, or the one where I don't? No one sells toys here."

An arched brow, as she considers the situation before her.

"There's a part of me that wishes I came over even earlier so I could try both options." Hindsight is always harsh. "I'm going to be awful, commander, and say I've already agreed to put my life in your keeping for now. I think I can put how we get off in your choosing as well."

Because obviously it's a we. What brings her more pleasure, more delight? That's what Fever wants. Something mutual and savored and held as a good memory, a section of time where she feels connected to her flesh without bloodshed.

"And before you tell me that's not making a decision, consider this. I didn't come here to make demands of you. I came over to give myself to you, however you wanted to make use of that. To let you take care of me, whatever form you decided that would take." She's sure to make eye contact right now. "Besides, 44. If you've got any fantasies that have been kicking around in your head, I'd love to learn about them firsthand."

"You are insufferable," 44 teases, and then she just.

She just.

She picks up the entire sorceress, is the thing, bundling her close to bite and nip at her neck while she's carried to the altar, leaving marks with every kiss against 17's pale skin while she brushes aside the things there to set her lover's bare ass down on it. The moment she no longer has to support 17's weight, 44 gets hungrier, needier, biting her way down and leaving a trail of bruises...

She'd known 44 was strong ever since she killed her, but there's feeling someone's strength aimed at destroying you and then feeling the same wrapped around you, lifting her with seeming ease. And exposed as she is, Fever welcomes the kisses, the touches, even as her hands fidget some in the cuffs from the reflex to want to touch her, draw her nearer. She hopes the bruises linger for a little while, her breathing and heart rate starting to pick up, a little sound when 44 hits an area that's particularly sensitive.

"How many times will you stab me if I make a crack about worshiping right now?"

It's a little breathless, no bite there as Fever tries to make certain she can stay still enough to not fall backwards.

Come Sail Away IC Inbox

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and so we migrate.

SMUT WARNIIIING

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CW joke about foot kink

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SWITCHING JOURNAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAALS

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