station72 | mental link: D46

[ She liked the colour before - and she likes it just as much now, especially now, as when she comes closer and Angel can't seem to find anything else but to look at but her mouth. Red and full, and hers to kiss, right now.

But she waits to see just what Ilde is planning, her fingers coming up to catch against her dress. Not in the toying way her own clothes were being fiddled with, but more to keep herself steady. Because it's hard to keep still. Feeling the heat bloom like the red petal bright colour Ilde is stamping onto her skin. Plucked in her skin. Leaving an odd feeling of being there, on her, that was different. Not their curious brushing or teasing when neither of them were really sure what they were doing. Far too deliberate for it and she feels something curl so warm and sweet. All manageable up until she brushes against her neck and her body snaps up as a soft sound parts from her. It feels better than she ever expected to just - have mouth on skin. It keeps surprising her just how easy this is to fall into ( like she hadn't wanted too before she shoved her curiosity so far deep down it had barely even existed. There was no intimacy even with herself when her father watched her 24/7 )

Her hands let go to do what she feels prompted to by the tug of Ilde's mind, barely even a hesitation. Her loose shirt - all straps and lace, that she hooks her thumb under, curling her arms to bring it over her head quickly and easily. Discarding it away from her on the mess of her floor. Exposing too pale skin that is stark against the red of Ilde's kiss marks. ]

[ Ilde is waiting there, as the piece of fabric goes up over Angel's head, there to press against her mouth again, turning both of their lips into smear of red. A mess, a mark. Her own dress is going to have to be removed if she wants to be any closer, else they'll repeat the grease stained thing, all pawed up and down with Angel's handprints.

Ilde turns pulling her hair to the side, looking to Angel to take down the zipper along her spine. ]

[ She's quick to it - not least of all is that it lets her snatch a kiss of her own against her neck, though barely enough to leave a mark on her, half a breath and no more before she's urging the dress down her body. Watching it fall away and - there's nothing but appreciation in her gaze. She likes looking, she always liked looking. There was so much of Ilde to look at.

Pink on her cheeks when she looks up, though not half as bright of red on her lips that makes them bright on her skin. Breathless sort of anticipation for whatever it is Ilde has planned exactly. ]

[ Ilde shrugs slowly out of the white dress, letting it slip like water off her body. Now that Angel has seen and knows the scar that traces her entire back, she feels less self-conscious of it. She isn't sure why it made her nervous to begin with, was it simply the terrible memory of it? The anxiety at knowing it was a difficult mark to look at without asking, gasping, How? and then having to relive it with the telling? Was it a mark against her beauty? Her prized trait that she has turned into a weapon? She isn't sure, but what she does know is that Angel looks upon it with only tenderness.

Just as she looks upon Angel.

Though to say tenderness is the only emotion would be... false.

The heat in her kiss proves that. The possessiveness of all her marks proves that. ]

( I want to give you something you will never forget. )

[ The vibrant stain of lips all over her body, the tantalizing smell of that perfume. She wants to embed right now into the other girl's memory and senses. Just like Angel and Gio had explained that she could.

She guides Angel to sit on the edge of the bed with her, cupping her jaw as she continues to smear her lips red, bruising them into fullness. ]

Edited 2016-10-23 19:02 (UTC)

[ She feels dizzy, but not in a way that she minds, she finds. The way Idle's clothes drop from her, the way she follows their descent in a way that's open appreciation before Idle snatches her back up into a kiss again. The heat of it takes her off guard, snatches her up, has her leaning into it just to give as good as she got. The slant of her mouth isn't the precise way they'd touched before.

She feels rather, that she is being consumed, down to the last little bit of herself. Another time, with anyone else, it might bother her, but right now. She's - becoming just as Idle wants, her skin becoming stained, her tingly at the edge of something that is all too promising and the heat that's curled up in her belly like a thresher, is in her mouth, in her eyes, when she tumbles back to the edge of the bed, catching herself where she falls a little too heavily because her legs don't work at the best of times.

This just compounds it. Brings something up sharp in her eyes with it. Like sweeping away dust, and there's that savageness that lives in the back of the mind, right there and patiently turning up to kissing Idle, contained within it. Her fingers slipping to her waist, smoothing on her skin. ]

[ There is a savage thing that lives inside them both; and it had reacted to Angel's desperation and sorrow with this. Possession and attention, assertive. It was so easy to be brave for others. Even here, in this very foreign configuration, it is easy to simply focus on removing the longing from the other girl's mind, replacing it with a fevered reality. She draws Angel's pale slender legs across her lap, all strength and support and control. Their limbs twine, arms wrapping over and under, Angel's legs pulling her closer as they tense, toes curling.

Ilde is relentlessly attentive, and when she pulls away it is to peer intently into Angel's eyes, the absence of her mouth almost as overwhelming as its pressure. Breathlessly, chests heave against one another, eyes glazed, mouthes open in a mixture of shock and salivation.

In her own body, Ilde is overheated and oversensitive, jumping from her skin with a need she isn't entirely ready to define. ]

[ She's kiss-stained heat when Idle pulls up. Finding herself leaning back where Idle draws them into the tangle. A quickened rise and fall of her chest, adjusting herself to bring one leg around, settling herself either side of Ilde's body.

A single-minded focus whilst her eyes stare at her mouth and she catches her breath. Indulges the heat shared between them that settles in each of her limbs, her organs, lungs and heart and belly. A heaviness that drags her down for once, that she doesn't struggle against. Doesn't shy away from being watched.

Rather, this time, she lets it guide her, settles her weight on one hand as she leans back, letting the mess she's become be on full display for Ilde alone. Stretches into the settled feeling, as drags her heel across the bed as her leg stretches, lets her body unfurl like a piece of blue embroidered material so often left hidden away. Her marked leg the one across her, the marked arm holding her weight, the central marking in the middle of her chest that is usually all that can be seen travels in patterns down around her breasts, her ribs, her stomach, shifting like serpents on her with each breath and each movement of muscles below. All slithering before she settles again and her hand comes up. Slips to the back of her head and beckons her down, down, down. Shared and open and full -

( for the gods that she and the planets are named for, that some say she is marked by, Angel heard stories of: maidens would lower themselves into pits of vipers in order to prove the balance preserved, and adoringly to heat, so too does Angel wrap herself around like her body is scaled and nothing but the purpose of holding. ) ] I don't hate my skin when I'm with you.

[ In the heat of the moment, it is nearly impossible to imagine anyone hating this skin. It's silky paleness, the exotic curl of power down the other girl's side, like the stamp of some unknown goddess benevolent and wrathful in one; a possessive guardian which imbued power and light.

Nearly impossible to imagine, but not entirely. Of course Angel had no good thoughts for her body after the years of poison and disassociation. Ilde knows far too much about that, knows what it is like to have what few touches available to her come only with pain. She thinks about her scars, the constellations of burns and bites and claws.

I don't hate my skin when I'm with you.

Yes, yes, those are the words. The trueness of it bursts into sound, a resonation, a connection bright and fluid, volcanic in its heat. Minds aligning just as bodies do, heart beat, brain waves. It makes Ilde feel like she's submerging into warm water, overflowing with love and belonging, acceptance. Desire. It's blinding and so bright.

She cups the soft shape of Angel's breast as she leans in to lavish on that central marking, the eye of her storm, breathing in the scent of perfume and skin and feeling the murmur of heartbeat just to the right of her ear. The curve of her bust satiny against her cheek. ]

( Your skin is all sweetness -- delicate and fair. )

[ A sentiment more than literal words. ]

[ As Ilde makes her way with so little prompting, and when she doesn't seem to pull away, she settles both her arms back against the bed, propped up on her elbows. Little at first, eyes down, watching her head lower, her hand settle against her, her mouth pressing the dulled blue marking in the middle of her chest. Little by little, it builds, her fingers curl up in the blanket below her. Her eyes heavylidded, watching her, the colour high in her cheeks. Didn't realise how it would peak in the rest of her either.

She can't get a sentence out of her that makes sense - because there in lay their scars, and normally, she prefers to be in control, just so she can keep back these silly little responses. If she's the one who is deciding, the vulnerable flutter of her throat doesn't come up so high, there isn't the little whining sounds of surprise and flooding heat that come from how her lips brush against her in the one place she has learned to revile and want so much. So, no it's not that she feels anything bad, but more this is - winding her tightly. Biting at her lip to keep herself quiet as Idle's hand settles against her breast, the trickle of her warm breath against her sped up heartbeat and that's - that's just - ]

( And if I wanted you to ruin it? )

[ Like this, like this, scar it as often as she wanted. Maybe her abilities would heal it perfectly and she would still have the days when her legs don't respond to her and she must do nothing but listen to the hive to make sure it is all real ]

[ They have both learned this, to hold on tight inside their minds, control over their will if nothing else; because there had been nothing else. It was why they took turns at confidence and fluster, one inspired to push further, and then the next. Passing the baton: control. It might do them good to speak on it out loud. Ilde is aware of the concept of it, but unsure how to make it in to words that are meaningful. In the heat of the moment is no good, but then when else does it matter? Outside of these things they were on equal footing. It is love and skin that makes them flush and question, not their friendship.

Ilde puts her cheek down on Angel's chest, listening to her stammering heartbeat. Thinking about things ruined, and she smiles, laughing faintly, ]

( You aren't ruined, merely blossomed. )

[ Burgeoned red, petals opened. ]

[ Her laughter comes as a breathless thing, full in her chest where Ilde is leaning. Warm and soft beating heart. Sped up that little bit in the exhilaration of just sprawling with her, bare skin to bare skin.

( Am I one of your plants? Are you waiting for me to open up to the sun? )

[ It's teasing, light. ]

[ The laughter is like a cool breeze on overheated minds, easing some of the fiery desperation that had washed over them. Ilde is more content now, to lower her weight, wrap her legs with Angel's and press her nose into her throat. ]

( I see... potential in everyone. Little things about themselves that even they doubt or do not recognize, and I wish to cultivate them. It is my purpose, it is what I know how to do. Even Dreus had such a seed, the inklings of a man who mourned, who still had love inside of him. No matter... No matter how much it hurts, it is worth the effort. More worthy, for the weathering. )

[ It all sounds so sweet, but there is a caveat, that when you claim to love and support something the way no one else does, it ties the other to you. Makes them grateful, hungry for more of your comforts... ]

[ She lays in the softness of Ilde's words, letting them wash over her like waves. Leaves to rainfall, unfurling in a broad surface. ]

( You really are a gardener. )

[ Her arms slip around in her, sweeping up her back and stretching herself out comfortable, skin to skin, breath to breath. One glorious second before she uses that wrapping hold of her to twist them reversed quickly. Ilde's head to the pillow and Angel above her, peering down over her. Another burst of laughter. ]

( But you were the one missed, I am meant to be telling you these things. )

( I'm sorry, I... It struck me how vulnerable I was in that state and I... )

[ Took control. She brushes the blonde curls off of her face, looking up at Angel. She's in no mood to ruin her laughter now, but she just wants to see if Angel realizes this about her. That she will grab hold of anything that makes her feel in control. Does she want it realized? Can she spin it to sweetness that she had just missed her that much.

Ilde smiles softly. She could. ]

( Never mind. Go on then, tell me. )

[ She pushes herself up on her elbow as she looks down at Ilde, smiling softly, understanding because it was the same way she reached so readily to others like she did. ]

( You need to hold onto something with your own hands. )

[ A polite way of putting it, as she leans down again, but she understands, oh she understands.

She does not kiss Ilde's lips. Rather, she finds her chin. A pause, a swallow of consideration of just how to relay something she found indefinably consuming. She is very, very good at missing, she knows, she has it to an art. But this was something else - and she had shut her mind very far when she had pondered on how to welcome back Ilde. Done what she told Sam she would - that she would go and learn herself. Granted better no one know she had, she didn't think she could bare that conversation.

So there's an air of something practised to it that gains determination as she goes. ]

( I miss you - here. ) [ She catches the bottom of her lip, that dip between chin and sharp jut of her mouth. ] ( and here - ) [ Just below her chin, this time, that place where when she thought sometimes of how Ilde kissed her, she felt a tingling prickle that was both dry and wet at the same time. ] ( - and here. ) [ the spot where bones and tendons bopped when she swallowed down nervously, felt rather than seen, like she'd watched Steve's. Her head turning to let her mouth part further on skin, a soft huff of breath on that place where words sometimes were caught where their substance was no more than butterflies beating in vain against a spider's web. Devoured out of each other's mouths.

The next here - is between her collar bones, the one after as between the curve of her breasts, but not venturing towards either. In that way, meteors as they had been crashing into each other. Impact, rubble, the dust settling over them. ( How on earth was she going to be able to look at Sam? ) This is in a line, straight forward. Or, well, straight down and meticulous. She caught against her sternum, next, the place where she felt the knot of wanting so keenly, most ofter. The end of her ribcage, where the soft parts of her so often wanted Ilde's fingers to sink into them.

When she comes to the end, one kiss above belly button and the next, lower, and that one is nothing but deliberate, her body lower itself, a tense press of bones and muscles under shoulder blades here her wings should be. She looks up - I want to give you something you will never forget - and she drops the last kiss to the cradle of her hips, no further, nothing in proper, and the part that is all them and not shared. ]

( and here. )

[ She asks for nothing else, in the mutual hum of their mind, there is that tight needy pull in that felt indescribable and was linked to being close. Pressing against it with nothing less that absolute surety of that feeling, just like she'd seen, a worry at being silly, maybe as she lets go of her breath against feather soft skin and presses the tip of her tongue against her, just the once, before she withdraws, pulling her head up, broaching no further. ]

[ In the places where they have kissed before, Angel's touch is nothing but pleasant, luxurious. An attention that Ilde can relax in to; the sweetness of it all. The lower Angel dips down her body, however, the harder her heart starts to beat. Blood rushes under her skin, making her chest flush, skin hot. As much as they may find solace in their bodies here in their intimacy... That place between her legs is something she has kept in the distance for years, a part of herself she has little connection to besides hazy memories of terrible pain. A surety of its filthiness.

Her heart nearly stops at the supple touch of tongue to the flesh of her leg. It's a sensation she has never imagined before, the heightened sensitivity of a place so rarely touched, so often hidden. Just the sight of Angel tangled up in her legs, a position most vulnerable, is... not too much. It is just enough. Just enough to plant the seed of what might one day be, a seed to grow with time and comfort.

She doesn't even have the words for it, and bites her lip, unusually shy as she tries to figure herself out. Her wants, her emotions, this sensation that has every hair on end, skin pinked. ]

( That feels nice. )

[ It seems important to express approval where approval is due. ]

[ She makes sure to leave it there, pulling herself up. Her hands braced either side of Ilde's hips, her cheeks pink with the nerves of it all - and not at all, the curling feeling inside of her stomach at being the one that caused it.

One that doesn't spike warm and thudding through their connection, all skin to skin, she keeps herself up, body stretching comfortably like her lion did so often. ]

( Did you want me to do it again? )

[ Easy, comfortable. She can always tell her no. They are mutilated things learning to be not so, it was nothing less than a process. ]

( Yes. Those places. )

[ Repetition was the key to learning, after all. ]

mental link: D46

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most timid nsfw garbage

shriek

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