crushed_pearls | Come Sail Away IC Inbox

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.

"Worshiping is the idea," 44 murmurs into 17's belly; she runs her tongue along the skin there, tracing a scar. "If I do my job right the altar will overflow with your libations, y'know."

She looks up with a teasing grin, and sinks down, and down, kissing, biting...

One hand on each of Number 17's knees, to part them. 44 bites her inner thigh, hard.

She likes everything that grin promises, and the bad joke she was contemplating dies in her throat for it. Instead she lets herself be moved, anticipating - and the sound that comes from teeth in her flesh is wordless, mixed pleasure and pain. It still hurts, of course it does, but it feels good all the same, firing along the same lines as if 44 had decided to tease her more directly.

A hurt that grabs her and makes her sink into her skin, really, keeping her pinned to here and now. That's definitely going to leave a mark for later.

"You want to be hurt, don't you?" 44 murmurs, nuzzling the ring of tooth marks she's left on that soft flesh. She kisses the wound, fingers trailing 17's legs with feathery strokes. "I can do that. Just enough to feel good..."

Her lover is lopsided now. That needs fixing. Teeth sink into Number 17's other thigh before the Darkling nuzzles in closer; she's taking deep breaths through her nose. It's almost animalistic, like she's scenting for something...

What she won't say is that it all feels good, in its own way. Placing her life in 44's hands, the woman could do much worse than a few bites, and Fever would accept it under these conditions for the sake of feeling it. But the matched bite sends another throb through her body, making her exhale shaky, heart beginning to pick up in her chest. And though it takes her a second to place what 44 is doing, when she does get it, it settles into her body as a low heat.

Scenting her. There's whatever the Village left on her, with their clothes and their grounds and the day to day. There's the dust of the crypt they have her sleeping in, though it lacks the detachment from time. And then there's her, half-elven and willingly in 44's power, and this situation assuredly arouses her.

Her face drifts closer; teasing, it has to be teasing on purpose. Scenting and smiling, looking at 17's nudity with a decidedly satisfied air. Nudging her folds with just the tip of 44's nose, playful and ever-so-gently mocking.

"Mine," the darkling breathes at last.

Her licks are long and slow, at first. She keeps stopping to smear the taste of her new lover all around her lips.

Anticipation is its own form of winding the tension closer, and she feels 44's eyes on her as a physical weight. Touching her without touching her, keeping her from being able to do more than wait, and it's novel. There's a difference between the bonds the Village wants to keep her in, and the ones she submits to - in one, she is safe.

Hers, for now. And being hers means that 44 can hear the way Fever breathes in, out slowly, a little more ragged. Eyes drifting half shut, focusing on feeling. The unyielding stability of the altar, the warmth of 44's mouth. It's a good contrast, and she enjoys it thoroughly.

Come Sail Away IC Inbox

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CW joke about foot kink

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SWITCHING JOURNAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAALS

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