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True subservience has never been Stahma's strength, and she's not really sure she should be all that surprised to find that she thoroughly enjoys straddling the back of Amanda's thighs, one hand gripping dirty-blonde hair tightly; bending over to murmur encouragingly as her other hand steadily moves between Amanda's spread legs.

Amanda’s eyes are closed, her lips parted, and the sounds coming from her are absolutely delicious, and Stahma wants more. Power corrupts, and she’s positive she can feel how every thrust of her fingers pushes her a little further from what she is supposed to be. Being here, doing this, is suddenly so much more important than her rigidly laid out plans. In this moment, it feels as though nothing could be more important than the sound of her name whimpered through Amanda Rosewater’s lips.

Except perhaps just how perfect she feels underneath her. Her skin is soft, warm and pliant, the wetness between her legs is intoxicating, infuriating. Her valued self-control slipping until there is none left; all her composure, all her resolve melted away the moment the blouse Amanda wore was peeled away to reveal the skin Stahma desperately wanted underneath her fingers, under her lips and teeth.

And once she touched her, she knew she would never want to stop. If she could ever have everything she didn’t know she had wanted, it would be Amanda Rosewater. When she had wrapped her fingers around Stahma’s wrist and held her back, stopped her from leaving with that look in her eyes, and Stahma looked right back, feeling something shift, something important, and most notedly did not wrench her wrist from Amanda’s hold, that was when everything changed.

Never had she thought she would be quite this desperate to claim ownership, to push, claw, bite. She wants Amanda to know, without any doubt at all, exactly who she belongs to now. As her fingers stole inside of her, when the hitch in Amanda’s breath made her groan in arousal, she knew immediately that feeling anything less than this would be completely unacceptable.

Determined to make her point clear to Amanda, her fingers explore clenching silken heat, wanting, needing her all-encompassing hunger for this- this human, to come across. But it’s not enough, this position will not do, she has to see her, wants to look into those captivating eyes, wants everything all at once, and then desire suddenly is too much too bear. She slides her fingers out, ignoreing Amanda’s strangled cry, she must know Stahma does not intend to make the loss a permanent one, that they are both every bit as desperate to see this through. Her hand moves to Amanda’s hip, impatiently flipping her over, finally having her spread out in front of Stahma. It’s nearly too much to take in, her golden skin, such a contrast to the paleness of the casti, her heaving chest, heavy-lidded eyes, and thighs that spread almost obscenely wide as Stahma touches her knee and once again trails her hand towards where Amanda needs it.

Every single shred of composure she has left leaves her as her fingers meet that incredible wetness again, no thoughts to spare for decorum. She wants, she needs, and so she takes. Three fingers slide easily back inside, and the resounding groan does unspeakable things to her own arousal, but there is no time to care, she barely notices it over the hunger she's lost herself in. She wants to hear that sound again, wants Amanda pleading, incoherent, wants to feel her blunt nails dig into her back, to be the cause of such complete loss of control.

She is not alone in how much she wants this, Amanda is so wet that there is barely any friction, her hips straining against Stahma, trying to dictate the pace. But even as much as she would love nothing more than to ravage her completely, she’s the one running this show, and she'll not have Amanda forget it. In retaliation for the transgression, she slows her movements, making her thrusts languid, stroking rather than thrusting, and she relishes in the slightly desperate keening that ensues. And then she looks at Amanda’s swollen, parted lips, remembering the frenzied kisses when she had the human pushed against a wall earlier, and is seized by the need to claim her mouth again.

This was not what she had in mind when she first decided to unravel the former mayor, she did not foresee this during the first weeks of Kenya’s disappearance, when Amanda frantically searched for her everywhere. Stahma offering her assistance, even though no one expected her to, with her husband gone, her life in upheaval, while she was busy assuming his role. And later, when Amanda in lack of an occupation took over the NeedWant, it was mostly coincidence and pleasant memories that had Stahma coming there, eventually sharing the occasional drink with the new bar owner.

There is some poetic irony in it all, that she learned so well from Kenya the things she needs to unravel Amanda, that without her sister’s disappearance Stahma doubts the former mayor would ever let herself fall into bed with her old nemesis’ wife. Sweet, kind Kenya for whom she held great affection, but who would ultimately not be what Stahma needed, replaced by a disgraced and would-be broken woman. But Stahma has watched, and with what she knows Amanda is no where near so broken as to not be mendable, and Stahma has a life’s worth of experience being someone elses strength, and is not of a mind to allow this prized new possession fall into the hands of the tactless E-Rep mayor.

No, that she never learned to be truly subservient will aid them both well, and even as Amanda slowly starts to come down new plans are taking shape, Stahma stroking her gently while mentally rearranging the future.