Plenty have said worse and probably meant it less, if they're being honest. But there's something about reducing a queen to this state that is its own reward, not that Teren is one to gloat (apart from smirking like a piece of shit, at least), and after it looks like Lakshmi is about to hyperventilate she finally decides to end the poor woman's suffering. In total contrast to all the teasing, Teren's final motion is an authoritative thrust of several fingers, pressing directly onto that sweet spot as she holds Lakshmi's legs apart with her free hand and her pointy elbow.
She wants neither soft hands nor kind words, wants nothing that could be mistaken for less than this. The harsh dig and the breath out of her lungs like she's been punched. With it, her back bows, her head driving into the pillows as she physically rolls, lifts. Arched up like her bones twist inside her skin.
With it her fingers hold to her hair, still, gripping hard. Open, unable to be anything less than so. Each cry pitches, louder, higher. Holding onto her like she was breath itself.
Teren smirks faintly, pleased by her handiwork, pressing as long as it takes for Lakshmi's cries to dwindle once more. Then, without ceremony, she removes her hand and stands (however much resistance it takes to free herself from the grip on her head), wiping her fingers on a cloth at the wash basin.
There isn't much to do, after that. One hand lifts, cover her eyes as she lays there - her chest rising and falling in quick breaths. One leg still propped up on the edge of the bed, the other curving over the side of the bed. All that white material bunched up around her hips that. When she does sit up - the great wonder of her garments is to their practicality. A little tug, her hand smoothing over it to let it reach down again, and apart from where her hair as pulled free from her writing about, it would suffice to say nothing particular at all had happened.
Save that ache, pleasant. That little too full way her lips feel, her eyes are blown. That hum that turns all her limbs lanky-feeling, that she stretches herself out like she was no more than an overgrown cat.
"Wine? Or would you prefer me to return the favour first?"
"I'll be off, actually," Teren says, stepping away with a little pat to one of Lakshmi's legs, "got to keep watch." Her bearing isn't unfriendly, but nor is it especially tender-- the moment is over, and with it her presence. With little more than a nod of farewell, she takes her leave and closes the door behind her. Fuckwitch Out
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2018-11-17 09:34 am (UTC)In total contrast to all the teasing, Teren's final motion is an authoritative thrust of several fingers, pressing directly onto that sweet spot as she holds Lakshmi's legs apart with her free hand and her pointy elbow.
no subject
Date: 2018-11-24 02:54 am (UTC)With it her fingers hold to her hair, still, gripping hard. Open, unable to be anything less than so. Each cry pitches, louder, higher. Holding onto her like she was breath itself.
no subject
Date: 2018-11-28 08:33 pm (UTC)Teren smirks faintly, pleased by her handiwork, pressing as long as it takes for Lakshmi's cries to dwindle once more. Then, without ceremony, she removes her hand and stands (however much resistance it takes to free herself from the grip on her head), wiping her fingers on a cloth at the wash basin.
no subject
Date: 2018-11-30 04:42 am (UTC)Save that ache, pleasant. That little too full way her lips feel, her eyes are blown. That hum that turns all her limbs lanky-feeling, that she stretches herself out like she was no more than an overgrown cat.
"Wine? Or would you prefer me to return the favour first?"
no subject
Date: 2018-11-30 07:23 pm (UTC)With little more than a nod of farewell, she takes her leave and closes the door behind her. Fuckwitch Out
no subject
Date: 2018-12-02 11:50 pm (UTC)