[Lily holds Shrike's face her thumbs brushing back gently, but not shyly, a fact that becomes far more obvious when her tongue runs along her bottom lip, not quite slipping inside.
[ honestly, holding a little back just builds the anticipation; she lets out a needy little whimper against her mouth, hands curling gently into her hair. ]
[her hair is flowing silk, smooth, soft, luxurious.
And yes, she teases herself, after a fashion, as much as she teases Shrike. She wonders at the other woman's taste, wants to bask in the heat of her mouth, and it's not an inch away, would be so easy to reach--
But she takes her time.
Her lips are moth's wings, fluttering in sweet, little pecks until she nips at her lips in between, ever one to try for surprises as she tries to learn what Shrike wants and likes.]
it's—in some ways a little difficult to get a feel for what Shrike likes, because she's trying to match pace and not go overboard; she clearly tries to be accommodating.
...she likes the nipping, though; that's clear from the way her breath hitches every time. ]
[Lily notices this and nips her more, though she wants to keep it interesting and plants softer kisses too before she deepens it, suddenly, finally--finally slipping her tongue into Shrike's mouth. It's hot and eager, tracing inside before reaching for the other woman's to entwine.
Her fingers stroke her hair more before pulling it just a bit. Nothing too painful, she only means to anchor herself.]
[ she practically melts into the kiss when Lily deepens it, arching against her body—and then makes a gasp against her mouth with the tug on her hair. she really likes that. ]
[The hand on her face slides down to her body, tracing the curve of her side before she winds her arm around Shrike's waist. Their bodies are so close as it is, but for Lily, it doesn't seem to be close enough.
Her lips and tongue linger for moments more before she draws back, long lashes fluttering, her lips brushing against the other woman's when she speaks.]
Shrike...how much of me do you want? [She reaches for one her hands to kiss her thumb and the rest of her fingertips, gentle and sweet before she licks and sucks one briefly.]
[She guides the other woman's hand to the strap of her own dress, her own desire clear, but she wants to see how Shrike will follow through. Delicately? Decidedly? Determinedly?
very gently, she tugs the strap over Lily's shoulder, and then reaches for the other one to do the same—it's a strangely delicate gesture from someone who looks anything but—and tugs the dress down. ]
The soft fabric glides over even softer skin. She isn't wearing anything beneath her dress, the skin of her very generous breasts glistening gently with wetness, the peaks gentle brushes of rosy colour against alabaster and near completely stiff with arousal.
But there is more to the story.
Beneath the grand swell of her chest is strength, a stomach pulled taut with muscle and very long legs possessed of the same, and between them, so obviously.
[Lily traces her jaw with her fingers and leans in to press kisses against her neck, trailing up to her ear before she nips at the lobe and traces it with her tongue. Remaining there, she continues to speak.]
I'm so wet and ready for you, but perhaps...you're the type that wants to be pampered, instead? Should I spoil you, Shrike?
[Lily starts to undress the other woman, but it's strange. She doesn't unbutton or unlace anything, simply moves her hands across the fabric and it begins to peel away before falling to the ground as flower petals, making a blossoming flower of Shrike.]
[ well, it makes... sense, in a dream logic way, that she'd be undressed now; she reflexively tilts her head to expose more of her neck, eyes fluttering closed.
she's muscular, from head to toe, and lean, small-chested; under her clothes she's battle-scarred—the oldest and most notable of which is a long vertical scar going straight through her midsection. ]
...I don't, really—you shouldn't go out of your way for me, I'm just never sure...
[She leans back, eyes raking over Shrike's figure. It's lovely, her scars tell stories and she wants to know every one. But at her protests, Lily places a finger to her lips.]
None of that.
[But hearing that tells her everything. She pushes Shrike back but she won't land on the ground, but on the smooth and soft petal of a giant belladonna flower. Lily will loom over her, her hands braced on either side of her, leaning in to nip her chin, her eyes smouldering.]
[Lily lets a hand trail over Shrike's body, tracing scars, especially that one over her midsection before she idly draws designs over a thigh drawing closer, closer, closer--ah.
Her hand returns upward to cup her face and Lily leans in close.]
It is all right by me, of course it is. [Her voice is faintly domineering and very kind] I will have you, spoil you, see you shattered with pleasure until the only language you know is my name.
[Is all she says before she's kissing her, soft pecks one after the other, petals brushing Shrike's lips, but they grow longer and deeper and lily lies down on top of Shrike, letting her feel the weight and softness of her breasts against her own, the heat of her closeness.
She reaches for Shrike's wrists and pins them above her head with a hand, demanding submission, but is it not a kindness? She is freeing her from thought, the burden of action.
She'll take care of everything.
Lily draws back, kisses her briefly once more and then her chin, watching the other woman and secretly gauging her comfort even as she never ceases.]
[ it's all. it's all very kind and very thoughtful and she submits without an ounce of resistance despite the strength apparent in her form.
she flushes a deep, dark—almost ashen color, but some tension seems to bleed out of her shoulders. it's... comfortable; it's easy to just go with it, blanketed by Lily's soft form. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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...and then a quiet whimper, as Lily runs a thumb across her lips. ]
It's, ah—lovely...
...you're lovely.
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bird dances with bloom
plunging silk petals to taste
her secret nectar
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///////// ]
...fuck.
[ and she's tugging her in to kiss her. ]
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...she's not thinking too hard about this, in the way dreams all make perfect sense at the time. it's just—nice. ]
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Yet.]
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And yes, she teases herself, after a fashion, as much as she teases Shrike. She wonders at the other woman's taste, wants to bask in the heat of her mouth, and it's not an inch away, would be so easy to reach--
But she takes her time.
Her lips are moth's wings, fluttering in sweet, little pecks until she nips at her lips in between, ever one to try for surprises as she tries to learn what Shrike wants and likes.]
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it's—in some ways a little difficult to get a feel for what Shrike likes, because she's trying to match pace and not go overboard; she clearly tries to be accommodating.
...she likes the nipping, though; that's clear from the way her breath hitches every time. ]
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Her fingers stroke her hair more before pulling it just a bit. Nothing too painful, she only means to anchor herself.]
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Her lips and tongue linger for moments more before she draws back, long lashes fluttering, her lips brushing against the other woman's when she speaks.]
Shrike...how much of me do you want? [She reaches for one her hands to kiss her thumb and the rest of her fingertips, gentle and sweet before she licks and sucks one briefly.]
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A-anything, is fine—
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She's curious.]
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very gently, she tugs the strap over Lily's shoulder, and then reaches for the other one to do the same—it's a strangely delicate gesture from someone who looks anything but—and tugs the dress down. ]
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She doesn't mind it.
The soft fabric glides over even softer skin. She isn't wearing anything beneath her dress, the skin of her very generous breasts glistening gently with wetness, the peaks gentle brushes of rosy colour against alabaster and near completely stiff with arousal.
But there is more to the story.
Beneath the grand swell of her chest is strength, a stomach pulled taut with muscle and very long legs possessed of the same, and between them, so obviously.
Wetness. That has nothing to do with water.]
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but, that's really... really, the sort of person she would dream up, isn't it—beauty and strength and assertiveness in one lovely package.
her fingers skim down Lily's sides, lightly, resting at her hips. ]
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[Lily traces her jaw with her fingers and leans in to press kisses against her neck, trailing up to her ear before she nips at the lobe and traces it with her tongue. Remaining there, she continues to speak.]
I'm so wet and ready for you, but perhaps...you're the type that wants to be pampered, instead? Should I spoil you, Shrike?
[Lily starts to undress the other woman, but it's strange. She doesn't unbutton or unlace anything, simply moves her hands across the fabric and it begins to peel away before falling to the ground as flower petals, making a blossoming flower of Shrike.]
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[ well, it makes... sense, in a dream logic way, that she'd be undressed now; she reflexively tilts her head to expose more of her neck, eyes fluttering closed.
she's muscular, from head to toe, and lean, small-chested; under her clothes she's battle-scarred—the oldest and most notable of which is a long vertical scar going straight through her midsection. ]
...I don't, really—you shouldn't go out of your way for me, I'm just never sure...
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None of that.
[But hearing that tells her everything. She pushes Shrike back but she won't land on the ground, but on the smooth and soft petal of a giant belladonna flower. Lily will loom over her, her hands braced on either side of her, leaning in to nip her chin, her eyes smouldering.]
Spoiling it is, then.
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she lands back on her elbows, blinking up at Lily, breath hitching in her throat, thighs pressed together. ]
If it's—all right by you.
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Her hand returns upward to cup her face and Lily leans in close.]
It is all right by me, of course it is. [Her voice is faintly domineering and very kind] I will have you, spoil you, see you shattered with pleasure until the only language you know is my name.
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Fuck, that's—I really—
Please.
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[Is all she says before she's kissing her, soft pecks one after the other, petals brushing Shrike's lips, but they grow longer and deeper and lily lies down on top of Shrike, letting her feel the weight and softness of her breasts against her own, the heat of her closeness.
She reaches for Shrike's wrists and pins them above her head with a hand, demanding submission, but is it not a kindness? She is freeing her from thought, the burden of action.
She'll take care of everything.
Lily draws back, kisses her briefly once more and then her chin, watching the other woman and secretly gauging her comfort even as she never ceases.]
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she flushes a deep, dark—almost ashen color, but some tension seems to bleed out of her shoulders. it's... comfortable; it's easy to just go with it, blanketed by Lily's soft form. ]
...you're, ah—awfully kind, to a stranger.
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