[ An offended exclamation is her first response– she nearly reaches for Akeha's hand to stop her. Her pride is what makes her so good at this: serving her partners was more for herself than it was for them (because she felt most comfortable serving the needs of others, and because there is a power in someone needing you in such a way).
Her pride is what makes her, occasionally insufferable as well.
But she stops short of disturbing Akeha while she is in the act, less by choice and more so because she is transfixed by the sight of her– flushed skin, fluttering eyelashes, lips parted, coming together only to make inaudible sounds.
Her throat is dry when Akeha brings her fingers to Artoria's mouth, and she sucks on them like a woman who has been deprived drink for weeks. The warm, salty wetness she manages to suckle from her skin renews her spirit, and when Akeha guides her hand she obliges.
Her fingers climb Akeha's thigh and navigate between lacey cloth and wet skin, finding their target easily. Her thumb circles slowly. ]
I think she would serve her bride happily.
[ Artoria leans down, peppering languid kisses across Akeha's exposed skin. She speaks her words across the red flush of Akeha's chest. ]
But she despite their shared restlessness.. she would take her time and relish this moment. After all, it is rare that her bride would let her eagerness be so readily apparent.
[ She looks up, face all but resting between Akeha's breasts. Her hand moves faster, thumb pressing just a bit harder.
There's a glimmer of something almost arrogant in her eyes. ]
Do you remember the first time? When we were practically children? You were so cute then.. so shy.. so encouraging.
[Akeha watches Artoria lick her fingers clean, and feels something unfurl itself in her stomach, filling her with languid, liquid heat. Though she is the one that guides Artoria's hand between her thighs, she is not prepared for the sensation of it. So odd, when she is so often prepared for everything. This time, she cannot quell the little noise she makes: an unsteady sigh, a slight gasp that she cuts off by biting her lower lip. Her head tilts back some; she shifts in subdued impatience and rolls her hips gently forward. All signs of weakness, says the part of her that was always calculating risk and threat, and she banishes the thought.
Artoria would not harm her. She was the only person in her life that would not do such a thing, and this thought is the thing that makes her look away, embarrassed. The blush rising to life on her skin paints her pale neck a flushed pink. It takes her longer than she wants to respond, and her voice now has a lower edge, the velvet calm of it beginning to fray at the edges with want.]
... Would she? [The question is soft, barely above a whisper.] How cruel, that she would torment me so. [This is accompanied by the barest of smiles, even as she squirms just so beneath the warmth of Artoria's mouth, and swallows all the noises she wants to make.] But such torment makes the end result all the sweeter, does it not? [Her voice blurs. The words are caught in a jumble in her throat when Artoria increases her pace, and for a time she can't think of much to say at all.
Then, she begins to pull herself up, and when she does she leans her forehead against Artoria's, deliberately pressing herself closer. When she speaks again, it is in a low and intent whisper, her lipstick smudging against Artoria's cheek.]
I remember. I remember your nervousness very vividly. And your fumbling, as well — your excitement was always so charming.
[ She wants to argue, to be startled and offended. But she can't be either of those things for very long, the irony of the situation is too embarrassing. Caught up in her own overeagerness she has miscalculated and lost the upper hand, something that Akeha very rarely gave up to another for very long.
Artoria groans without making a sound: her lips part, and she makes a face as if she is experiencing some kind of pain. She is her own self-fulfilling prophecy because she cannot get close enough soon enough. ]
You are as cruel as you ever were.
[ Artoria shifts her hand between Akeha's legs, angling it just so— she slips two fingers inside of her, keeping steady pace with the finger still rubbing circles against her. ]
You toy with me so— one day you might come to regret it. I may fumble when it matters most.
[ And then her hand stops altogether, stationed inside of her like a threat.
She tries to steady her breathing, it would hardly be much of a threat if she was bursting at the seams herself. ]
[This time, Akeha's gasp is audible, surprised — a burst of air against Artoria's ear. Her hand settles on the back of Artoria's neck, then cards through her hair. The gesture is tender for all the suddenness of it, and then she laughs. It's soft, warm, and would be scarcely heard if she were not so close.]
Cruel? No. Not to you. [She shivers, her body tightening around Artoria's fingers, and sighs out her name. She closes her eyes, rocks her hips forward into the motion, letting her body fall into the motion and be carried by it. She is a weapon in the hands of others, but in Artoria's hands she becomes something else entirely. An instrument to be played and to have sounds sweetly plied out of her, made to follow a rhythm and song.
Artoria stops, and again her body tightens helplessly around her. Akeha breathes out and she might have been able to hide her lack of composure were it not for the way it shuddered out at the end.]
If you were, then I would be truly cruel, Artoria. [Her mouth brushes her earlobe, and she takes it between her teeth, gently biting down.] I'll torment you endlessly, this night, and all the other nights we might yet have.
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no subject
Her pride is what makes her, occasionally insufferable as well.
But she stops short of disturbing Akeha while she is in the act, less by choice and more so because she is transfixed by the sight of her– flushed skin, fluttering eyelashes, lips parted, coming together only to make inaudible sounds.
Her throat is dry when Akeha brings her fingers to Artoria's mouth, and she sucks on them like a woman who has been deprived drink for weeks. The warm, salty wetness she manages to suckle from her skin renews her spirit, and when Akeha guides her hand she obliges.
Her fingers climb Akeha's thigh and navigate between lacey cloth and wet skin, finding their target easily. Her thumb circles slowly. ]
I think she would serve her bride happily.
[ Artoria leans down, peppering languid kisses across Akeha's exposed skin. She speaks her words across the red flush of Akeha's chest. ]
But she despite their shared restlessness.. she would take her time and relish this moment. After all, it is rare that her bride would let her eagerness be so readily apparent.
[ She looks up, face all but resting between Akeha's breasts. Her hand moves faster, thumb pressing just a bit harder.
There's a glimmer of something almost arrogant in her eyes. ]
Do you remember the first time? When we were practically children? You were so cute then.. so shy.. so encouraging.
no subject
Artoria would not harm her. She was the only person in her life that would not do such a thing, and this thought is the thing that makes her look away, embarrassed. The blush rising to life on her skin paints her pale neck a flushed pink. It takes her longer than she wants to respond, and her voice now has a lower edge, the velvet calm of it beginning to fray at the edges with want.]
... Would she? [The question is soft, barely above a whisper.] How cruel, that she would torment me so. [This is accompanied by the barest of smiles, even as she squirms just so beneath the warmth of Artoria's mouth, and swallows all the noises she wants to make.] But such torment makes the end result all the sweeter, does it not? [Her voice blurs. The words are caught in a jumble in her throat when Artoria increases her pace, and for a time she can't think of much to say at all.
Then, she begins to pull herself up, and when she does she leans her forehead against Artoria's, deliberately pressing herself closer. When she speaks again, it is in a low and intent whisper, her lipstick smudging against Artoria's cheek.]
I remember. I remember your nervousness very vividly. And your fumbling, as well — your excitement was always so charming.
no subject
Artoria groans without making a sound: her lips part, and she makes a face as if she is experiencing some kind of pain. She is her own self-fulfilling prophecy because she cannot get close enough soon enough. ]
You are as cruel as you ever were.
[ Artoria shifts her hand between Akeha's legs, angling it just so— she slips two fingers inside of her, keeping steady pace with the finger still rubbing circles against her. ]
You toy with me so— one day you might come to regret it. I may fumble when it matters most.
[ And then her hand stops
altogether, stationed inside of her like a threat.
She tries to steady her breathing, it would hardly be much of a threat if she was bursting at the seams herself. ]
What would you do then?
no subject
Cruel? No. Not to you. [She shivers, her body tightening around Artoria's fingers, and sighs out her name. She closes her eyes, rocks her hips forward into the motion, letting her body fall into the motion and be carried by it. She is a weapon in the hands of others, but in Artoria's hands she becomes something else entirely. An instrument to be played and to have sounds sweetly plied out of her, made to follow a rhythm and song.
Artoria stops, and again her body tightens helplessly around her. Akeha breathes out and she might have been able to hide her lack of composure were it not for the way it shuddered out at the end.]
If you were, then I would be truly cruel, Artoria. [Her mouth brushes her earlobe, and she takes it between her teeth, gently biting down.] I'll torment you endlessly, this night, and all the other nights we might yet have.