If I said my heart was beating loud
If I said I want your body now
Would you hold it against me?
She wonders how it had taken her so long to notice. How the thrill of the kill almost counteracted the guilt that comes with the act. She’s become addicted to that thrill, the thrill of winning and of the power that lies just beneath her skin. She hates to lose, hates everything about the humiliating act of falling to her knees, too exhausted to continue on.
They don't spar any more.
She remembers back when they did, how the energy pushed itself into other forms. How deftly her barrier jacket could be removed by skilled fingers. How they both got off on the power.
They never speak of those times back when they were sixteen and still falling in love. Even then, they knew it was <i>wrong</i> to feel as they did with magic that came unbidden to them in such times.
Nanoha has it worse than she does. After away missions Nanoha will come home full of insatiable need that cannot be satisfied in one round or five. They go for hours sometimes, over and over and over until the only thing sustaining their frantic pace is the magic that drives it.
They send the forwards home early one night, and as the sun sets, they prepare themselves. They need this, both the practice and what comes afterwards. With a limiter in place it isn't quite the same, but it is close enough. When they launch at each other, power crackling through the air, they both can feel it. It drives them higher and higher, devices and mana crashing against each other, fueling their desires.
It ends, as it always does, with Nanoha's lips pressing harshly against her own. Her fingers tangle in auburn locks, pulling harshly, uncaring as her lover groans into her waiting mouth. She can't resist her then, no one could. Nanoha is too beautiful, too powerful, too intoxicating. She can do things with her magic and her tongue that that cannot be described in words.
They're drowning in this sinful act, barrier jackets and devices falling away as the kiss grows more frantic. Fingers covered in pink mana caress her body, first her neck and then move down to grasp her breast. She gasps, she can do little else with lips on her neck, biting and sucking, predatory. The energy crackles around them, on Nanoha's prized training field, against the illusion of a burnt-out building, she lets herself go.
The fingers on her breast tighten and she hisses with pain, russet eyes wide. A growl rises from her lover's lips, and soon the shock of the mana and the harsh touch fades to something far more pleasurable. She moans, her hands pulling at the barrier between her own hands and the skin she so longs to touch.
"Not today," a command. One she could not disobey. She would fight back, but not when Nanoha was like this. This she could do nothing against but whimper and let the magic drive her higher and higher. This is how Nanoha likes it best.
Control completely gone, her own magic crackling around her body, she lets her lover take what she wants. Harsh hands and lips and teeth force her down onto the rubble-covered training ground. A knee is shoved between her legs and her hands are pinned above her head with a hastily cast binding spell.
Nanoha has it worse than she does. Far worse. Drunk on power that she could have gone her whole life knowing nothing about. She is learning how to use it in ways that it had never been intended for, in sin and in pleasure. Slowly, after years of futile resistance, she is learning what it brought out of her, loving every minute of it. It turns her into the devil of her reputation, but only for one person’s eyes to see.
"You did not put up a fight today," Nanoha observes, drawing those sickeningly pink fingers across her skin. The magical energy burns and then pushes the arousal pooling between her legs to new heights. She likes the pain of the magical assult, and her cheeks burn knowing Nanoha knows it too. Nanoha leans in, her breath hot and shallow, "I would almost say you let me win."
Mouth opening in protest - she would never, she hates losing - is covered by harsh lips and she's forced to do battle with that tongue once again. She cannot resist, she's powerless against it. The knee pushes forward and she whimpers. The kiss ends and the lips depart to her earlobe, biting down hard as her lover hisses, "You like it like this."
It is the truth, what can she conceivably say?
Nanoha shifts and the pressure that she's been grinding against between her legs is gone. She whimpers again. This is a cruel game, but it is what the magic brings out of her lover. She struggles against the bind, she wants to touch to feel the skin of this girl she loves so dearly.
Nanoha has it worse than she does, she cannot stop herself once the power starts to crackle within her. She has to take, to control, to own what is hers over and over again until the inner beast is satisfied. The magic comes far more easily to her in this state, and she can manipulate it to do almost anything.
She will not admit that she was the one who gave Nanoha the idea in the first place. This is different, but at the time, it had been the same. She had wanted to feel the burn then, like she does now, and Nanoha had obliged as she always did. She loves this, every last bit of it, but the burn and the pain and the shame of feeling this way overwhelm her afterwards.
The magic on Nanoha's fingers shifts, spreads wide, and settles once again, playing over her breasts. She groans, and Nanoha leans down to kiss away the pain of her mana, fingers moving away to burn further down.
They move as one, Nanoha's mouth biting and sucking at her breast, her stomach, further and further down and she can't even think straight any more.
Nanoha has it worse than she does, she takes without thinking of herself. She knows that her lover feels more than just the aggressive push to control and dominate in these moments, but she wishes that she could do more. The point is that she can't and Nanoha still takes her pleasure from the act itself. The control is what does it, the loss of it that she feels and the complete surrender to that glowing pink energy. It makes her cry out in pain, yet she loves every minute of it as Nanoha plays it across her body.
"Ne, Fate-chan," Nanoha says, her breath hot. Her mouth is hovering just above that spot, and a more wicked sort of magic is crackling at her lover's fingertips, splayed across the pale flesh of her inner thigh. "Is this wrong?"
She shakes her head, same as always, and Nanoha goes in for the kill.
Warm and wet and unrelenting, she can't stay silent for long. Her breath comes louder and the moans come unbidden to her lips. Nanoha smiles sweetly up at her, her tongue twisting just so, to push her even further towards that edge. She'll fall eventually. Nanoha will be there to catch her, all will be right.
Nanoha takes without asking, and she gives willingly.
Nanoha has it worse than she does, but when her skilled tongue is joined by fingers still covered in that crackle of magic, she realizes that she's the only one who gets off on the pain. For her lover, it's the magic that does it, she likes to inflict a gentle, pleasurable pain that only her magic can bring to life. It is never overwhelming, and never too painful, but as Nanoha's fingers push hard and fast into her core, she sees stars. She can't think, can't concentrate on even making a sound. Nanoha maintains that furious pace, hitting just the spot to make her gasp out, squirming against the bind to get closer and to push back against that unrelenting hand.
This reflects the promise they made all those years ago.
She groans into her lover's mouth once again, trying to escape the bind. She's been struggling against it since they started, Nanoha should just relent.
But she will not. It is control and loss of control, compassion plays no part. The only compassion is the eventual climax, when even Nanoha cannot deny her any more.
She whimpers as Nanoha's tongue pushes into her mouth, matching the pace of her hand. She can't even talk now, the pain is everything, the pleasure twisted around it in a tight knot that only Nanoha's magic could possibly produce.
"You like it?"
Of course she does. She can't even think, Nanoha is panting in her ear. Whispering things that sound so foreign on those kind lips. This is not about her kindness, instead about the magic and what it does to them. This depraved act, she can't even think of what the others - her family and their friends - would say if they ever found out. They are sinners, taking pleasure from the sustenance that will eventually kill them.
"Nanoha," she finally says, her voice sounding alien. She's so close now, her own magic at her fingertips, bound though they are. "I-"
Teeth graze against her earlobe, "Come on."
It's a challenge, and one that Fate cannot back down from. Nanoha's free hand is pressing down into her hip, fingers digging in deep enough to leave bruises. Her teeth bite down hard on pale skin, nestled against a backdrop of straw-colored hair.
Nanoha has it far worse than she does. She is the one who sinned first, a gentle kiss after a sparring session when they were sixteen turned into something so much more. Nanoha was the one who perfected the magic so that they could do this whenever they wanted to.
She is the one who said it could not happen very often. They make love in other ways, but never this raw. This is special, reserved for when the mania of the magic took them to levels of physical exertion that they could only ever dream of in battle.
She's pushing against Nanoha's hand, so close, so close. This is the final moment, the one she's been craving. It hurts, Nanoha, and yet she can't say it. She wants the pain, and cannot bare the shame of saying it out loud.
Her lover's fingers twist and the pink magic is gone - replaced by a calming and gentle sensation that sends her over the edge. She gasps and groans into her lover's neck, arms suddenly free and wrapping around the woman she loves more than anyone else.
She lies there, panting, Nanoha in her arms, simply being. She's done nothing to deserve this great and epic love story that they've lived together. She's so in love.
Her voice comes back to her after a few more minutes, and she inhales deeply before shifting so she can look into Nanoha's eyes. "Do you want to go back?"
Nanoha looks away. "Not really," she says before resting her chin on Fate's shoulder. "I'm comfortable here.”
"We can't sleep out on the training grounds." Fate points out.
Nanoha looks up then, the small marble that is Raising Heart in her hand and a wicked smile on her face. "Who said anything about sleep?"
How fast must we run before we can just take off in flight?
How far must we run before they do not recognize us?
So let's take this from the start, you'll be me and I'll be you