Work Text:
“Let me see.”
The command was transparent. In front of her knelt the elusive head of the Curatorium of Secrets – and in her domain, did she sit on a low couch, her ankle sore, swollen. It must have been the uneven ridges she threaded for the majority of the day that led to this increase in size.
Faint rustle was audible as her host rid herself of accessories that would be in the way of direct contact – the claws and gloves and rings and bracelets soundlessly clattered. A thumb pressed down inquisitively on her outer ankle bone, followed by a hushed hiss.
“Remind me, what’d you do again?”
What did she do…? Nothing. Just walked. No stumble, no fall, no trip.
“I’m not sure why it hurts.”
She couldn’t help but allow her thoughts to wander free – with a raised eyebrow, as Nefer’s fingers rubbed across her skin, she wondered if she’d treat all her guests so nice. Deep in thought, she failed to realize how her eyes settled warmly on the silhouette in front of her.
Muscles and tendons were traced with the sharp outline of her nails – whereas at first it seemed to be looking for the cause of the ache, eventually, it settled down into a steady, comfortable rhythm that relied more on instinct and less on seeking a solution.
It was so comfortable – Nefer’s been buried in work as of late. Short visits, nothing unlike the endless nights they used to spend together. Could she really be blamed that she missed her?
“Did you just sigh?”
Oh. Perhaps she did – the sensation brought forth a wave of melancholy mixed with serene longing. The fingers came to a slow halt, and like many times before, she was under out-of-the-blue questioning.
Glancing at her, the thought crossed her mind that she wished she prepared more for this occasion. Some kind of a story – a tale believable enough so that it served as a plausible reason for her presence. No words came.
In all fairness, her ankles have seen better days. Maybe there was an issue. Maybe she just had to rest… maybe…
All thoughts were cut short. The gloveless hands sat down on her knees, wiping coherence from the tip of her tongue. Where said hands piled, her chin followed soon, too, her neck craned. Nefer was all sorts of warm against the layer of chill that settled on the surface of her skin.
“Liar.”
Was all she called, before the green-gemstones shifted around in the socket, gazing up at her through the velvet of her eyelashes. Goddess be with her, this wildfire surprised her every single time they touched.
“What’s the real reason of your visit?”
She no longer wanted to hold her hands back. Reaching out, the back of her fingers brushed against the spotless cheek, eventually residing amongst the blackened green strands. “I missed you, is all.”
Nefer was no fool. She knew it just as she did that her work consumed most of her time – not that there was anything wrong with that. It’s just… at the end of the day, individual need was still a thing.
Her eyes wandered for a moment only – to a single, pale orchid in a glass vase that rested on an otherwise organized desk. What a delicate touch.
“So you interrupted my work with the first flimsy reason you could think of?”
Maybe it was a scold. Lauma’s gaze dropped back onto her partner, but she didn’t seem particularly angry. Not even frustrated. More so… joyous about the obvious sign of need. She exhaled a huff through her nose, before wedging a hand between her huddled knees to part them.
“Nefer –”
The callout was quick, underlined with a tinge of panic. Quality time would have been enough for her – a walk, a talk, perhaps a meal? It didn’t always have to be that way.
“Things have been hectic lately. Your need for reassurance slipped my mind,” she planted a kiss on her knee, “Let me.”
Her muscles twitched lightly. Seeking a new destination, her fingers shifted from her hair to under her chin, forcing the eyes to rise with undeniable control. “Don’t overexert yourself,” she hushed, her thumb idly grazing across her lips. She was lucky to not have been bitten now.
“Quiet now.”
Judgement pressed upon her. Raising from her knees, a warm hand sought her wrist, pulling her to follow her in motion – checking twice if she could really not walk. And although the steps were uncomfortable, her head rushed with blood, and she wouldn’t not oblige.
The private quarters of her generous host were spacious, albeit too mechanical and stripped of tokens and artifacts of sentimentality. She’s pulled into an embrace so soon that her eyes can not wonder anymore, lips nuzzled against her cheek to kiss her a handful of times over.
“Won’t you be late on your work?”
“It can wait.”
The bands that restricted her heart prior seemed to have snapped in one, foul slash. Breathing felt easier now – the overly loud voices in her head have all dissipated, nothing more than a murmur in the back of her mind, as her beloved’s lips slipped on her own.
Firsts after a while always felt so bashful. How’d she kiss her back again? If she tilted her head left, she’d do so on her right. They exhaled a huff almost at the same time, tiny little smacks filling the air up around them. The sensation to be looked after with such devotion…
All those weeks of negligence were suddenly worth it. As her hand sat down by the base of her neck, she felt a tug on her waist, closer, closer, wordlessly wishing, and she’d allow the tides to take her. Nefer tasted like warm berry tea and had the lingering scent of a Sumeru Rose, something she was not acquainted with before she was formally introduced to the delicacy.
Was every night like this out in the desert, perhaps Lauma would wish she had been born into a different skin, bound to the same soul. Their purpose could be carried out with the same care they shared their kisses with, nails now scratching at the bareness of her hips, her voice a muffled indication of satisfaction.
Where the sudden wave of confidence came from, she could not tell. Her hands seek out the backless halterneck dress, brushing away the cape that usually covered her shoulders and provided less-than-sufficient warmth. It was not cold at all in her room – but she couldn’t, for the life of her, find how to maneuver her out of this dress.
Their kiss ends in a fumble – Nefer’s laugh is a chime as she pulls back, one eyebrow raised at the desperate, unsuccessful attempt. Need a hand? she eyed her up and down, and although full of shame and suddenly embarrassed of her own desire, she nodded.
One, two, three buttons come undone at the back of her neck, before the material stops encasing her so firmly. There’s not as much as a second thought in her mind as she reaches out to brush it away, and then ends up prisoner to a firm grasp.
Lips only, she mouths, holding each other's hands with her own and whispering nothing short of a plea onto her lips. Was she supposed to strip her with nothing but her lips?
Nefer was doing this for entertainment. Everything was a game to her – and of course, despite their initial wariness of each other, she managed a way to play along not only as a mere player, but her equal in wits and permanence.
So her lips sear down her neck. The black material is obnoxiously in the way, but she works it out – a light bite with her teeth, and it is tugged slightly further down. Now she was thankful Nefer was home – if she had to deal with more clasps, more accessories, more details of her imperious outfits, she might have found herself exhausted before stripping her entirely.
The light giggle that emanates from her reverberates through her entire body, the one that she was joint to, so she feels that laugh deep in herself too, her intoxicating smell writing over rationale in her mind. Soon enough, her collar is exposed – skin hugging the bone, and the tip of her tongue skims the surface, noting, salt.
A smile surfaces – perhaps out of the both of them, because despite the clear instructions, Nefer occasionally tugs on her wrists backwards or to the side, thoroughly satisfied that through it all, she still had the wish to move her hands, and she couldn’t.
The body-hugging fabric, dark green in hue sinks further and further down, revealing more of the curves that haunted her when she closed her eyes, soon conceding a sight worth a prayer. Pink lips brush against the silver glimmer of her skin, down her sternum, her cheeks surrounded by soft, light warmth.
Half-way down was already a good measure, and as she tried to move her hands again – and was met with resistance – she simply trailed her way up the firm breastbone again, her mind as much on a side-quest as her lips.
Her generous host’s breath is hitched – for when the mouth most accustomed to prayer and guidance brushes across her nipple, a jolt is sensible, nails sinking into her pulse over her wrist. A delectable reaction – and for a moment she’s nothing like the devout leader, she’s no soothsayer or saviour or whatever title the people thought fit her.
She’s just a woman, clearly, mindlessly in love.
Said love is conveyed through a series of short pecks – while fighting the hold, she kisses, then licks the swollen pink bud, blowing cold air on it for a shudder, latching on it as if this was the one true way to soothe her worries.
It is sudden, when her hands break free – and more sudden, when the host’s hands jump up to her body, sliding underneath her clothes to grab at the soft of her stomach, the hill of her side, climbing to reciprocate the touch with a kneading grope.
The escalation is unforeseen – unpredictable, as both of them are, switching the pace the moment the heat washed over their minds.
When they shifted from standing to falling in the sheets, she was not sure. But she was a viewer of the effortless act of Nefer wrapping herself out of her dress, left in nothing but her undergarments and the black thigh strap around her right, subtly biting into her skin.
Down below her, she gazed up – a fawn, an innocent little thing from a glance, ready to be devoured by a hungry serpent that seemed to have a taste for flesh. Long fingers pool her clothes above her waistline – and then, those same fingers hook into her undergarments, pulling on it without an ounce of hesitation, casting it aside with a dull thump.
To be exposed like this meant her heart hammered against her ribcage, wild and demanding to be freed, chest rising and falling steadily with anticipation coursing through her veins. The soft of her belly coils, jumps a little when a creeping touch rises on her thighs.
Then, the next command follows.
Take it off.
At first, it falls short on her. She herself had little more to shed – but no. Her beautiful serpent meant her own remaining clothes, just the black undergarments with an intricate pattern of lace. A hand rises – then, is swatted away. Nefer points to her own lips with a light smile.
Lips only.
For a few long glances, they stare at each other, the hunt and the hunter, before her throat would bob lightly with a swallow. The least she could do was try.
They swap in the bed.
Her mysterious enigma lies back, hips raised with innate curiosity, and she’s there again. Biting down on her fabric, dragging it lower with her teeth. It’s quite the task – especially because of the sudden rush of shyness that washes over her. What if she fumbled again? She wished hands were still in the game.
Her breath huffs against her glimmering core, so eager to dive in, but knowing better. The fabric of her undergarments is soaked so she knows everything until now had a profound effect – however, that does not help with her composure.
Hurried kisses pepper the trail of the fabric as it descends on the long legs – why were her legs so painfully long? –, before gathering around her ankles.
They dangle, and Nefer gazes back at her with sated entertainment, the gemstones of her eyes wondering what’s next? So to reply, she kisses her ankles, not swollen, not scarred, eventually biting onto the fabric and with a final drag, removing them entirely.
Safe to say, the exercise had her out of breath, silver hair a waterfall over her shoulders and the waves in them replicating the sea. Nefer sits up – a hand extending to grab her by the face, dragging her in for a sickeningly sweet kiss. It’s her distraction from their change of position again – to one where she’s perched on top of her again.
It’s comfortable – to have her knee shuffled between her thighs and pressed up against her slick. Nefer kisses her – until she is gasping for air, until her hands grab at her shoulders, her neck, her breasts, the desire to feel more inflated tenfold now.
There’s only so much a woman of faith could take – when her partner shifts again, she’s slightly facing the side now, her thighs brushing against her own as she lowers, right until their lips kiss.
But this time, it’s not their mouths that are in contact, no. One of her thighs is straddled so firmly the apex of their most hidden, shameful desires touch, a soft grind mixing their unruly excitement into one.
Her back arches to the sky, and she’s met with a grin – a flushed, beet-red grin, earrings dangling with each motion of her lower body.
The first real touch is the one to blow her mind. A finger is inserted between them, just to neatly pull on their folds for maximum friction, enjoyment beyond their dreams. When that finger rubs at her slit, taking some of her essence, she can very well see from below how that is used to touch herself.
Her head rests against a fluffy pillow, hip somewhat impatiently twitching for more. Said movement is judged by a sideways glance, before her beloved would finally start. Lips brushing together, she drags her hips forward slowly, an obscene, violently sloppy pop audible once she lifts herself only slightly. Then, she sits again.
This is the motion she repeats. Rub herself against her core, rise, then firmly crash again. The cycle of repetition is short – she’s quick with it, and soon, a lightheaded daze washes over her. Watching the firm bouncing of her breasts, the line of a muscle clenched in her biceps, her slightly agape mouth…
It seems like perhaps Nefer could forget, too, that they were both bound by earthly desires. Neither of them were better than the other when it came to the perversion of living out their desires – she’s not sure when it happened, but by the time a fraction of her mind returned to her, she was already fumbling with her own breasts, freed from the confinement of her dress, fingertips sinking into the flesh.
A melody of moans fill up the room – she thoroughly enjoys the sight of Nefer giving in to her primal instincts, eventually grabbing her thigh to hold still, thus granting herself firmer pressure and immense enjoyment. Cursewords, gasps and sighs echo from the walls – she herself is on the brink of tears from utter delight, snapping her hips up repeatedly, meeting her in a frantic, starved manner.
Whatever admiration she had for the act before were all gone now, replaced by the smacking of their juices, the kissing of their lips, Nefer’s lower body rocking herself with such speed she wonders if she had empowered herself in a way. The sensation is too much – and simultaneously, not enough, so she’s meeting her half-way, challenging her with an opposing tide.
To be loved like this by an effortlessly knowing partner, must have been the same thing as receiving the grace of the Moon Goddess.
A hand dips between them, seemingly chasing the clouds of lust that surely reflected in her eyes, rubbing where she needed it the most, the sensation exploding into millions of fragments, her thighs jumping, hip bucking forward, oxygen pressed straight out of her lungs. The tremors shake her – it all happens too quickly, when the same hand that pushed her now repeated the same set of perfected movements on herself.
They cross the line almost together – bliss, pure bliss washes over them simultaneously, and although the orgasm is fantastic, neither of them stop with their movement. Perhaps its no longer love making, and more akin to a desperate rut, rubbing each other while their breathless wheezing fills the room.
It’s everywhere – the byproduct of their longing for each other. Suddenly, she no longer minded the length she had to push for this – instead, a heavy, languid smile crept up on her features.
Nefer leaned over, their joint core still throbbing, heartbeats amplified and joint. When she laid down on top of her, leaving her legs and slit suddenly cold, Lauma wasn’t sure which one of their heartbeats she could feel more – but she cared little.
The act was great, but a little impersonal. To be kissed throughout their mutual devotion for each other played a huge part in her satisfaction, so now, their first kiss is extra long, a little lazy, full of brushing each other’s hair out of the way while regaining a sense of normalcy.
How long it lasts, she’s unsure. She’s thoroughly satisfied, although in desperate need of a wash-up. When Nefer pulls back, she does not urge her to follow – however, she does inch closer to the foot of the bed, stopping her in motion.
What a sight – the taut line of her stomach, the faint sheen of sweat over her toned arms… Extending a leg – her hurt leg, she sits it down on her abs, lightly dragging it up and down. In exchange, her ankle is rubbed again, and Nefer tilts her head to the side.
“I knew you were in no pain.”
But she was. Truly, in the beginning. Now, however, as her foot descended over her pubic bone, carefully finding the heat where her thighs met, she’s overcome with joy. Toes glide easily between her labia, although with some initial aid, as Nefer kept holding onto her leg – however, before she could stretch too far, she took a tiny step back, her own leg a prisoner now.
With a click of her tongue, she shook her head. Lauma, in return, smiled easily, her head resting against the pillow.
“It feels better now.”
Shaking her head in disbelief, her beloved host slowly let go of her.
“I’ll run a bath. You’ve got ten minutes to regain your energy – I won’t carry you to wash up.”