Try not to... [ Chariot chuckled, finding Fang's clit with the edge of her index finger, and rubbing along it deliberately slowly, taking her time. She didn't want Fang to get used to this... because she had no idea when she'd have the internal fortitude to even attempt it again. It needed to feel special... ]
[It was special. Fang loved it. The intimacy, of course, and yielding under her Bonded's hand to be whatever she wanted Fang to be, but... the feeling of Chariot in the Bond, most of all. She felt so free. Free to want, to act on those wants without being held back by her doubts and fears—to unabashedly be herself.]
[Fang loved this. Loved her brilliance. Loved her. And couldn't help the fleck of sadness not knowing when she'd ever see Chariot like this again.]
[If she saw her like this again.]
Tease, [Fang huffed in return, the Bond and her tone belying how much she relished it and hand squeezing her ass in retaliation. A deliciously tortuous line, not enough to do much for her except to wet her appetite with promises.]
[ Chariot sat herself up, at least partially, propping up on one arm while the other continued to shift languidly in its attentions, taking care to find Fang's clit, but also keep her pressure light, deliberate. Her hips rolled against Fang's grip, a chuckle on her breath, red locks dripping across her face from being disheveled before. ]
I want to get you worked up... I want you to bask in my shine... Until you're begging me to let you ravage me...
[ And mark her. Like she'd said before. She wanted that, perhaps, more than anything else. ]
[Fang's eyes focused on hers, attention sharp in that vibrant green. There's such a delightful promise in Chariot's smoldering tone. Something proud rose in Fang's chest, both her own and from her Turnskin instinct, a reflexive desire to challenge her lover for the right to make her beg. To make Chariot beg, herself. Fang was more than strong enough, and they both knew it.]
[But Chariot's word was stronger than any physicality of Fang's, and the image of being brought to the brink, being driven into a near-frenzy under her lover's hands was just as tantalizing.]
[That intense focus in her eyes was nearly predatory, albeit patiently.]
Then make me, [Fang lifted her head to follow Chariot's rise the best she could without lifting her shoulders from the bed—challenging her lover, but in a very different way. The weight of the half-drunk bottle was still in her other hand, and Fang was torn between tossing it on the floor and pouring the rest over herself.]
Make me wild. Make me beg. [Fang timed the sudden rock of her hips with Chariot's next lazy stroke to defiantly force more pressure into the touch, and she hissed a sigh. Excitement and hunger boil hotter in her chest with every little provocation.] Make me give you want you want.
[Fang would regardless, of course. It just seemed more fun this way.]
[ Chariot had a strong feeling her words would spark challenge within Fang. How to play at her instincts, both her natural ones and those born of her Turnskin self, was something she'd been observing for months. To learn for a moment just like this, when she'd finally have the courage to rise to that occasion. And maybe, now that that bridge had been crossed, she'd find that courage more often. But the thrill of it being so novel, of how strong Fang's reaction was, made it feel like such a satisfying payoff...
Well. For the moment. She knew it was only going to get better. Whatever Fang wound up doing with that bottle, Chariot had full intention to taste her, regardless.
First with the lips, hungry and heavy, but she barely spent a few moments there before going back again to her throat, her collar, even managing some bites of her own along the way. She could still taste the wine, still smell it mixed with Fang's musk, her blood heating up more in response.
Down over her chest, worrying each nipple, popping them from her lips, nuzzling beneath the weight of her breasts. Down to her stomach, scooting her way back over Fang's hips. Her hand was still there, still slowly stroking, but her direction was probably clear by then, too... ]
[Fang's lips chased her an inch in the wake of that fierce kiss before forcing herself to relent. The bites earned Chariot a sound halfway between a groan and a please growl. Ultimately, Fang decided to pour the last remnants of the wine as Chariot worked down, letting the spiced liquid—it left the faintest, most curious warm tingle in its wake—run between the valley of her breasts to give her lover more to enjoy across her stomach.]
[(Gods, she needed a bath after this, or the stickiness would drive her insane later.)]
[Anticipation, delight, eagerness were all present in the tension of Fang's body, even without it brimming in the Bond and the rising of her breathing. Her freehand slides again along Chariot's back as she lowers, coming to thread lightly in her hair once again.]
[ Chariot drank up the wine, drank up Fang, and still found herself thirsty. A shower was the furthest thing in her thoughts, though she knew well they'd both need one after all of this. No, she moved yet lower, hands now tugging away the last bit of Fang's sari, any bit of clothes, to leave her Bonded entirely bear for her.
Her kisses, her bites, trailed into the dip of Fang's hip, edging towards her core, literally feeling herself sweat in the heat that radiated from her lover. It wasn't long before she was drawing her tongue along her folds, fully tasting her, and finding her plan of being deliberate and slow a lot harder to hold to... ]
[They definitely needed to bring wine to bed again. It's incredibly to bask in, both the salaciousness of it all and the attentions of Chariot's wonderful tongue.]
[Fang's legs opened accordingly and one hooked behind her Bonded, heel pressing into her back. The Turnskin tilts her head back with a groan, unthinkingly pushing herself closer, lost in the pleasant buzzing warmth in her head and the rising sensation of her lover's efforts.]
[ It wouldn't help her blossoming reputation as a lush, but hey, results were results. But even if the wine had gotten this all rolling for them, Chariot's own passion and desire for Fang was what backed it all up, drawn out by the heady spices.
Fang's musk was overwhelming her senses at that point, and her attempts at slowing down were largely lost. She lavished Fang with her tongue, tasting her fully, humming against her. Entrance, clit, she could hardly keep herself focused on any one point of her. She wanted all of it. Wanted to feel more of those reactions from Fang.
[And Chariot would get them. Her heavy breaths gave way to rolling low moans. The fingers tangled in her brilliant hair fisted, tugging gently, unthinkingly, needy. Keeping to what her lover originally had in mind was difficult when her words alone left Fang so charged.]
[But the moment was no less for it. Fang groaned her lover's name, writhing slowly, chasing that quickly approaching peak. ]
[ By some grace, likely a small reminder left within the Bond of the words she had only just spoken moments ago, Chariot remembered what she'd planned. Fang felt so close, the energy within the Bond frantic and desperate, and it took well more willpower than Chariot even knew she could muster to force herself to pull away, lips wet with Fang's essence.
But she had to. Because that was the point, wasn't it? This was Chariot as Fang so rarely got to see her, least of all in a moment like this. This was the Chariot, a side of herself that was so well hidden away, that she wanted to 'shine' for Fang. ]
Well... Are you ready for the next act? Are you ready for us to go into the grand finale?
[She growled a half-hearted protest when Chariot pulled away, her muscles coiled tight and hips rocking against the empty air. It's a delightful torture, being left hanging on that precipice, equal parts unbearable and desirous.]
[And it's exactly what she'd craved. It stoked that want boiling in her higher. So much higher than Fang didn't even think to call out how cheesy it was. ]
Yes, [Fang groaned out immediately, fingers clenching in her Bonded's hair. ] Chariot--
[ The tension in Fang was tangible through the Bond, how worked up and driven she was. Chariot had a strong inclination that she'd be completely overwhelmed the moment that energy was released, that Fang would just consume her entirely. Which... hey. Working as intended.
She licked her lips, cocking her head into that clutch in her hair, even managing a very, very, Fang-like smirk of her own. ]
[She had never been so attracted to Chariot as this one singular moment.]
[She wore Fang's own expression so well. It stoked her adoration and lust to a bright fever pitch, and Fang couldn't not answer. The empty bottle dropped from her grasp, and this time she tugged fiercely, demandingly. Move up. Now.]
[And her free hand would flash out if Chariot complied, snagging her wrist and insistently guiding it back to her core.]
[ Fang's demands were met fully, with Chariot additionally locking her lips tight to Fang's, humming heavily. Her fingers moved deftly, with all the dexterity of a practiced performer, skill that was never forgotten, held hidden beneath so many layers of herself. ]
[A kiss that Fang answered desperately, her own scent and taste mingling with the wine lingering on Chariot's tongue. It's potent, it's overwhelming mixed with those clever, dancing fingers.]
[Her arms encircled Chariot's back, fingers clutching greedily, pressing into her back. It didn't take long at this fervent pace with so much heat in their blood and touch and their Bond, and soon Fang let a sharp sound into Chariot's mouth, breaking away to gasp and writhe with that telltale clench.]
[And in the throes of pleasure, before Fang could think, before she could hesitate, she sunk her teeth deep into the muscle beside Chariot's neck.]
[Something severe enough to scar plainly. Something that would never fade, and could never be removed.]
[And shock lanced through the Bond an instant later—Fang hadn't accounted for the blood rolling across her tongue, the Witchblood so unbelievably rich with concentrated magic, a rush utterly electric to the Bond's refreshing flow. Fang groaned again, the sound heavy with a growl, the tail of her climax intermingling with the vibrant taste of her—hers—lover's blood, and Fang's hands gripped tighter with possession.]
[ The ecstasy within the Bond worked better than any pain killer could have to take the edge away from literally being bitten to the point of drawing blood and tearing flesh. Chariot had never, ever thought of herself as someone sexually excited by pain, but this all was pretty... enlightening.
It was something she had to file away for later, though. The intensity of the sensation, rushing along side the jolt of Fang's orgasm throttling the Bond, had Chariot coming, herself, without ever having needed to be directly touched any of her most sensitive places.
It was the act, the feeling, that had her crying out Fang's name, hands reaching to clench desperately at Fang's shoulders, to anchor against her and keep herself from figuratively flying away... ]
[It was too much, utterly overwhelming. All of it. Her own release and Chariot's, the buzz of the wine, the raw lightning in Chariot's blood on her tongue...]
[It takes Fang several moments to realize she's been mindlessly lapping at the wound, her grip tight on her lover. It's... satisfying, in a primal way Fang didn't know existed. Her eyes darted up, watching Chariot ride the last of her orgasm. She didn't have the presence of mind to question it, or to poke fun at her Bonded; the Turnskin side of her was very much at the forefront, now, and one arm released it's possessive clutched to trail down her back to her hip down to her thigh, Fang's fingers arching in facsimile of claws and dragging her fingernails in the process. It stopped halfway down, her blunt nails digging in harder.]
[It's a question, both in the Bond and in Fang's eyes (wilder than they were a moment ago) and her touch. Another?]
[ Chariot's response was breathless, yet clear. It was spoken with a desperate whisper, but bellowed like thunder. It was born from a heart both fragile and tremendous. ]
Baise-moi...
[ She wanted nothing more than to feel the full ferocity of Fang's desire in that moment, to be the rocks upon which her waves crashed. She wanted to be surrounded by her love, ravaged by it, to be taken and claimed. ]
[And in the wake of that whisper, Fang's hand melted from its imitation of claws into the genuine, wickedly hooked deal, and left a shallow slash from mid-thigh to just above Chariot's knee with a quick rip of Fang's arm.]
[Hers.]
[Some distant part of her mind knew the others would have questions about these scars—but the rest of her mind was still spinning with Witchblood, taken over by the Turnskin's primal instinct and the thought made Fang shiver: that her other partners would see her marks, know what they did here tonight, know that Chariot begged to be claimed by her. It's enough to make her core throb with a new spark of arousal.]
[Her other arm pushed Chariot up enough that she could get at the zipper of her outfit, yanking it down with impatience.]
[ The lingerie didn't stand much chance. Chariot needed herself out of it as badly as Fang did, it all feeling too in the way now that the initial arousal factor was well past its necessity. She needed to feel Fang's hands directly, and everywhere. Every bit of her skin ached for her touch, her taste. Every press of fingers into flesh, claws against skin, the joyful lapping of her tongue.
She was hers. Thoroughly and totally. In that night, and all others. There would never be a question about it, with that mark there.
[Fang wasted no time. Her fingers pushed in (so wet, so eager, for her), fervently stroking and hooking, desperate to please her. She tore her mouth away from the wound to latch onto a breast, sucking, her tongue circling and flicking over that peak repeatedly.]
[But the Turnskin's instinct wasn't all hunger and possessiveness; the hand on Chariot's thigh shifted back to it's human form, protectively pressing across that oozing slash to staunch it.]
[Chariot was hers. Her blood gave a rush unlike any Fang'd ever felt. But no matter how enticing that sanguine taste, how marks decorated her skin with claims, they were still wounds. She wouldn't (couldn't) let her Bonded bleed too much.]
[ Honestly, she could use her own healing magic later. She wasn't that worried about it, especially since the pain was hardly registering. No sensation beyond the fires of ecstasy stoked by Fang's possessive attentions could really register, for that matter. Fang's unleashed, possessive lust was overwhelming her already, but in such a wonderful and welcome way. This was exactly what she'd intended for, to inspire this within her lover, to "shine" for her in a way she never had before.
Magic wasn't forgotten, though. And it became to blossom regardless of her lack of focus, illuminating the room in a way the candles and remnants of the evening sun could not. Bright energies coursed over her skin, into Fang, enhancing everything, making each touch that much more profound, to stir up those desires even more.
This was not merely Chariot that Fang was making love to. This was Shiny Chariot. And the grand finale was building its crescendo between them. ]
[She gasped into her skin as the energy sank in, her relentless rhythm stuttering before resuming all the more fiercely. The Witchblood already had her head spinning, mixing into her own veins and setting them alight—the magic now seeping from Chariot settled into her skin, setting her alight from the outside as well, the overstimulation of magic chasing out everything in her head except want and need and instinct.]
[Chariot's end of the Bond provided more than enough to fill the vacancy. Her own hips rolled underneath her lover, bucking into the sensations and bliss that wasn't hers. Without thinking she bit Chariot again, a softer bite this time the top her breast, moaning into her flesh.]
[ The spell really started to take form when the magic found its way inside of Fang, and soon she'd realize just what Chariot really could do...
More so than the sensation of the Bond, she'd find her motions inside of Chariot quite literally mirrored inside of herself, replicating the pressure, the speed, of her fingers, filling in within. It took all the focus Chariot had left to even cast the spell, but it was well worth it, to feel how much more it'd spur Fang on.
This was the finale, the climax, of her show. She hoped it was all the spectacle Fang had ever hoped for. ]
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[Fang loved this. Loved her brilliance. Loved her. And couldn't help the fleck of sadness not knowing when she'd ever see Chariot like this again.]
[If she saw her like this again.]
Tease, [Fang huffed in return, the Bond and her tone belying how much she relished it and hand squeezing her ass in retaliation. A deliciously tortuous line, not enough to do much for her except to wet her appetite with promises.]
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I want to get you worked up... I want you to bask in my shine... Until you're begging me to let you ravage me...
[ And mark her. Like she'd said before. She wanted that, perhaps, more than anything else. ]
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[But Chariot's word was stronger than any physicality of Fang's, and the image of being brought to the brink, being driven into a near-frenzy under her lover's hands was just as tantalizing.]
[That intense focus in her eyes was nearly predatory, albeit patiently.]
Then make me, [Fang lifted her head to follow Chariot's rise the best she could without lifting her shoulders from the bed—challenging her lover, but in a very different way. The weight of the half-drunk bottle was still in her other hand, and Fang was torn between tossing it on the floor and pouring the rest over herself.]
Make me wild. Make me beg. [Fang timed the sudden rock of her hips with Chariot's next lazy stroke to defiantly force more pressure into the touch, and she hissed a sigh. Excitement and hunger boil hotter in her chest with every little provocation.] Make me give you want you want.
[Fang would regardless, of course. It just seemed more fun this way.]
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Well. For the moment. She knew it was only going to get better. Whatever Fang wound up doing with that bottle, Chariot had full intention to taste her, regardless.
First with the lips, hungry and heavy, but she barely spent a few moments there before going back again to her throat, her collar, even managing some bites of her own along the way. She could still taste the wine, still smell it mixed with Fang's musk, her blood heating up more in response.
Down over her chest, worrying each nipple, popping them from her lips, nuzzling beneath the weight of her breasts. Down to her stomach, scooting her way back over Fang's hips. Her hand was still there, still slowly stroking, but her direction was probably clear by then, too... ]
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[(Gods, she needed a bath after this, or the stickiness would drive her insane later.)]
[Anticipation, delight, eagerness were all present in the tension of Fang's body, even without it brimming in the Bond and the rising of her breathing. Her freehand slides again along Chariot's back as she lowers, coming to thread lightly in her hair once again.]
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Her kisses, her bites, trailed into the dip of Fang's hip, edging towards her core, literally feeling herself sweat in the heat that radiated from her lover. It wasn't long before she was drawing her tongue along her folds, fully tasting her, and finding her plan of being deliberate and slow a lot harder to hold to... ]
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[Fang's legs opened accordingly and one hooked behind her Bonded, heel pressing into her back. The Turnskin tilts her head back with a groan, unthinkingly pushing herself closer, lost in the pleasant buzzing warmth in her head and the rising sensation of her lover's efforts.]
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Fang's musk was overwhelming her senses at that point, and her attempts at slowing down were largely lost. She lavished Fang with her tongue, tasting her fully, humming against her. Entrance, clit, she could hardly keep herself focused on any one point of her. She wanted all of it. Wanted to feel more of those reactions from Fang.
It was all going to her head. ]
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[But the moment was no less for it. Fang groaned her lover's name, writhing slowly, chasing that quickly approaching peak. ]
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But she had to. Because that was the point, wasn't it? This was Chariot as Fang so rarely got to see her, least of all in a moment like this. This was the Chariot, a side of herself that was so well hidden away, that she wanted to 'shine' for Fang. ]
Well... Are you ready for the next act? Are you ready for us to go into the grand finale?
[ And into the encores beyond? ]
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[And it's exactly what she'd craved. It stoked that want boiling in her higher. So much higher than Fang didn't even think to call out how cheesy it was. ]
Yes, [Fang groaned out immediately, fingers clenching in her Bonded's hair. ] Chariot--
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She licked her lips, cocking her head into that clutch in her hair, even managing a very, very, Fang-like smirk of her own. ]
Then come and get it.
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[She wore Fang's own expression so well. It stoked her adoration and lust to a bright fever pitch, and Fang couldn't not answer. The empty bottle dropped from her grasp, and this time she tugged fiercely, demandingly. Move up. Now.]
[And her free hand would flash out if Chariot complied, snagging her wrist and insistently guiding it back to her core.]
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[Her arms encircled Chariot's back, fingers clutching greedily, pressing into her back. It didn't take long at this fervent pace with so much heat in their blood and touch and their Bond, and soon Fang let a sharp sound into Chariot's mouth, breaking away to gasp and writhe with that telltale clench.]
[And in the throes of pleasure, before Fang could think, before she could hesitate, she sunk her teeth deep into the muscle beside Chariot's neck.]
[Something severe enough to scar plainly. Something that would never fade, and could never be removed.]
[And shock lanced through the Bond an instant later—Fang hadn't accounted for the blood rolling across her tongue, the Witchblood so unbelievably rich with concentrated magic, a rush utterly electric to the Bond's refreshing flow. Fang groaned again, the sound heavy with a growl, the tail of her climax intermingling with the vibrant taste of her—hers—lover's blood, and Fang's hands gripped tighter with possession.]
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It was something she had to file away for later, though. The intensity of the sensation, rushing along side the jolt of Fang's orgasm throttling the Bond, had Chariot coming, herself, without ever having needed to be directly touched any of her most sensitive places.
It was the act, the feeling, that had her crying out Fang's name, hands reaching to clench desperately at Fang's shoulders, to anchor against her and keep herself from figuratively flying away... ]
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[It takes Fang several moments to realize she's been mindlessly lapping at the wound, her grip tight on her lover. It's... satisfying, in a primal way Fang didn't know existed. Her eyes darted up, watching Chariot ride the last of her orgasm. She didn't have the presence of mind to question it, or to poke fun at her Bonded; the Turnskin side of her was very much at the forefront, now, and one arm released it's possessive clutched to trail down her back to her hip down to her thigh, Fang's fingers arching in facsimile of claws and dragging her fingernails in the process. It stopped halfway down, her blunt nails digging in harder.]
[It's a question, both in the Bond and in Fang's eyes (wilder than they were a moment ago) and her touch. Another?]
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Baise-moi...
[ She wanted nothing more than to feel the full ferocity of Fang's desire in that moment, to be the rocks upon which her waves crashed. She wanted to be surrounded by her love, ravaged by it, to be taken and claimed. ]
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[Hers.]
[Some distant part of her mind knew the others would have questions about these scars—but the rest of her mind was still spinning with Witchblood, taken over by the Turnskin's primal instinct and the thought made Fang shiver: that her other partners would see her marks, know what they did here tonight, know that Chariot begged to be claimed by her. It's enough to make her core throb with a new spark of arousal.]
[Her other arm pushed Chariot up enough that she could get at the zipper of her outfit, yanking it down with impatience.]
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She was hers. Thoroughly and totally. In that night, and all others. There would never be a question about it, with that mark there.
They were mated. ]
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[But the Turnskin's instinct wasn't all hunger and possessiveness; the hand on Chariot's thigh shifted back to it's human form, protectively pressing across that oozing slash to staunch it.]
[Chariot was hers. Her blood gave a rush unlike any Fang'd ever felt. But no matter how enticing that sanguine taste, how marks decorated her skin with claims, they were still wounds. She wouldn't (couldn't) let her Bonded bleed too much.]
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Magic wasn't forgotten, though. And it became to blossom regardless of her lack of focus, illuminating the room in a way the candles and remnants of the evening sun could not. Bright energies coursed over her skin, into Fang, enhancing everything, making each touch that much more profound, to stir up those desires even more.
This was not merely Chariot that Fang was making love to. This was Shiny Chariot. And the grand finale was building its crescendo between them. ]
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[Chariot's end of the Bond provided more than enough to fill the vacancy. Her own hips rolled underneath her lover, bucking into the sensations and bliss that wasn't hers. Without thinking she bit Chariot again, a softer bite this time the top her breast, moaning into her flesh.]
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More so than the sensation of the Bond, she'd find her motions inside of Chariot quite literally mirrored inside of herself, replicating the pressure, the speed, of her fingers, filling in within. It took all the focus Chariot had left to even cast the spell, but it was well worth it, to feel how much more it'd spur Fang on.
This was the finale, the climax, of her show. She hoped it was all the spectacle Fang had ever hoped for. ]
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