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Hymn to Aphrodite

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Furiosa knew the Wives all watched her. Either out of some some sort of misguided hero worship or perhaps nothing more than a foolish crush. She was no hero, not worth their idolizing. Or their love. Her heart had all but rusted up after the many thousands of days enslaved to a madman. But somehow they had each wormed their way into what remained of it, and she had begun to feel something like affection towards the sisters. Something that went beyond empathy for what they were forced to endure, something she barely recognized herself.

Usually it was Toast that followed her around, watching with keen eyes as she worked on car parts and weapons in her quarters. Furiosa considered offering to teach her, but there’d be no hiding the grease stains that would inevitably blacken her hands. The girls were never allowed to leave the Vault without Joe’s permission, though they had long ago found a way to sneak out through the roof and down into the hydroponics room. These escapes were rare, and they could never make it very far without being detected. But they could manage the distance to Furiosa’s room, and she to them. Their presence soothed the fiery rage that usually burned beneath her skin, temporarily quelled her need for vengeance against her captors. Kept her human, and mostly sane.

She couldn’t say what her presence did for the sisters, but they welcomed her all the same. Tonight it was Splendid who had chanced a visit with her, and who now sat gracefully atop the small workbench in her quarters. Furiosa had quickly seen why the girl was treasured above all - not just for her beauty, but there for the powerful stillness that radiated from her being. As if nothing you did could ever really touch her soul. She was as fearless as she was lovely, and even Joe would never break her. Furiosa smiled down at her work, glad that Joe would never get what he wanted with this girl. Angharad might be carrying his child but she would never truly be his.

Furiosa reigned in her wandering thoughts to focus on the task before her, surprised to find herself so distracted by the girl’s presence. She was supposed to be making a few minor adjustments to her prosthetic, trying to achieve the same dexterity with the smooth metal fingers that she could with her own flesh ones. As she tightened each joint she flexed and wiggled the digits, finding satisfaction with each small improvement in their response. Angharad watched her working, her quiet presence generally enough to tame against any frustrations that arose despite the distractions she brought with her. She didn’t speak at all until Furiosa had gone back to rifle through her toolkit.

“You wouldn’t have anything in there that could unlock this belt, would you?” Her words were barely more than a whisper, but they seemed much louder in the silence of the room. Furiosa finally looked up to the girl’s face to see an expression of careful hope - the kind that wouldn’t be broken if Furiosa failed to help. A failure they both expected.

“There’s nothing in here that wouldn’t break the lock.”

“I don’t care.” There was that unbreakable resolve again. Angharad had always refused to be afraid of the consequences, but Furiosa hadn’t stayed alive without knowing how to choose her battles. She’d help Angharad break that lock one day, help all of the girls, but that day was not today. Angharad seemed to realize this, and looks at Furiosa with acceptance. Not for her situation, but for Furiosa’s need to keep her safe for now.

“It bothering you more than usual?” The younger woman’s belly had barely begun to swell - it was still early yet - but it might be enough to press the harsh metal of the belt deeper into her flesh. Angharad nods. Furiosa moves to stand before the girl, placing herself between where her thighs stretch out over the table and hiking up the sheer fabric of her dress to observe the skin beneath. She reaches out a careful hand to draw her fingers along the top of device, dipping her fingers just below to find there was still a little space between the metal and the soft linen below. Even with the extra weight the other girl was still so thin, too thin really. She pushes the fabric down a bare inch, finding a thin red line marring the smooth skin beneath, though it was no worse than usual. Angharad tenses a little under her inspection, but Furiosa presses on. She checks where her hips have widened slightly and finds the skin slightly more irritated, rubbing soothing fingers across the welts left there. Angharad sighs in what seems like relief at the gentle touch, so Furiosa repeats the motion on the other side as well with her one good hand.

It’s when she’s drawing her fingers along the lower edges of the belt that it begins to dawn on her what’s actually bothering Angharad. The other girl’s breathing has shifted, coming out in shaky pants and then ceasing entirely as her fingers dip lower. Furiosa looks up at the girl’s face to see her biting at her plush lower lip, forcing herself to keep quiet as Furiosa tries to work a finger below the warm metal. But there’s nowhere near enough room for even a finger to wedge beneath the device, and Angharad lets out a small whine when she’s forced to pull back.

She takes in the sight of the woman before her. The normally poised Angharad already looks more than worked up, her face flushed and nipples hardening beneath the thin fabric that covers her. Furiosa can’t say she’s never thought of the girls like this, that she’s completely unaffected by their charms, but she knows better than to take something that isn’t offered.

“What do you want from me?” It comes out a little more pleading than she had meant it to, but Angharad’s breathing out “anything” and nothing else seems to really matter. She kisses the girl a little more roughly than she meant to, and tries to slow herself even as Angharad is responding with equal fervor. Soon the kiss is gentler, if no less passionate, and she loosens her grip on the girl to draw her good hand down to her waist. She runs careful fingers once again along the edge of the belt, as much to soothe as to inflame this time. Angharad is arching into her, and she allows her hand to drift up her sides, carefully avoiding the roundness of her belly.

The other woman is making all sorts of wonderful, maddening noises and pressing her chest into Furiosa’s own. Furiosa pulls back just a little to cup her hand over the perfect breasts in front of her, simply holding her hand there as she deepens their kiss. She can feel the tight peak of the other girl’s nipple beneath her hand and bends down to kiss at her neck the same moment she tugs at the stiff peak. She’s rewarded with a not-so-quiet gasp, which quickly turns into moaning as she slips her fingers beneath the fabric to palm at her bare flesh.

Furiosa is careful not to leave any marks on Angharad’s neck as she kisses along the length of it, lightly nibbling and sucking at it but never biting or bruising. She may not be leaving any visible marks but she can tell by the girl’s reactions that her touch will be still be felt for many days after this. She can also feel herself responding to the other girl, but this isn’t about her. She can feel the other girl’s need deeply, imagines that the feeling magnified by the fact that she can’t even bring any relief to herself with this damned belt in the way. The belt is still a barrier now, but Furiosa tries to make up for it by dragging her lips down to Angharad’s chest, mouthing against the fabric before moving it out of the way to kiss at her breasts. She can hear Angharad whispering soft pleas above her, begging her for something more without knowing what to ask for. The other woman is already shaking beneath her touch, but it’s still not quite enough.

Suddenly, Furiosa is struck by a moment of inspiration. She moves her good arm around Angharad’s back to hold her as she removes her metal arm from where it has been supporting her. She’s forced to pull herself away from Angharad’s gorgeous curves to carefully guide her prosthetic between her thighs. The sharp teeth that guard her center leave very little space to work, but she can just manage a single metal digit between their vicious points. Angharad gasps at the first touch of her finger, and she reaches up to grip at Furiosa’s upper arms to hold herself steady. Though Furiosa can’t feel anything there but the ghost of her own memory, the sight of the rough metal tracing over the girl is enough to inspire an answering pulse in her own core.

Angharad reaches down with a trembling hand to try shift the fabric out of the way but Furiosa just shakes her head. The rough grate of the digit would surely damage the delicate flesh below, but it’s safe enough with the barrier of linen to soften her touch. She increases the pressure of her hand to make up for it, and receives a satisfied moan in return.

She can tell that the other girl is getting close, and finally dares to resume kissing across her face and neck. She keeps consistent pressure as she slides her metal finger across Angharad’s center, but increases her speed as she draws her closer and closer to the edge. She finally gives into the urge to bite at the delicate flesh below her lips, right over the silvery scars that trace the side of her face and neck, just as Angharad cries her release. Furiosa allows the other girl to cling to her, embracing her as she continues shuddering in her arms for the long moments that follow. When she finally returns the girl to her own room she leaves her there with a promise to free them all.