![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
TEST DRIVE MEME 001
⚰︎ ⍢ ⌲ ⍚ TEST DRIVE MEME:
CONTENT WARNINGS for this game include: monsters, body horror, dub-con, non-con, religion, blood/violence, and marking/branding, loss of autonomy/self, and mental influences.
This log additionally has warnings for: nudity, spiders, waxplay, character death, and references to children in proximity to sexual situations.
✧ ✧ ✧
Welcome to RUBILYKSKOYE — a dark, horror-smut game where player choices will drive a mod-run storyline about the world and its NPCs. For the first round, this test drive serves as characters' arrival into game.
THESE THREADS CAN BE GAME CANON if both players are accepted into the game and agree to it. However, if players who'd prefer to start fresh are welcome to reuse these prompts in their own personal logs upon acceptance into the communities.
If you have QUESTIONS about the test drive prompts, please ask HERE. Questions about the game itself or the general setting should be directed to the FAQ.
FAQ ✧ SETTING ✧ CALENDAR ✧ RESERVES ✧ APPLICATIONS
This log additionally has warnings for: nudity, spiders, waxplay, character death, and references to children in proximity to sexual situations.
Welcome to RUBILYKSKOYE — a dark, horror-smut game where player choices will drive a mod-run storyline about the world and its NPCs. For the first round, this test drive serves as characters' arrival into game.
THESE THREADS CAN BE GAME CANON if both players are accepted into the game and agree to it. However, if players who'd prefer to start fresh are welcome to reuse these prompts in their own personal logs upon acceptance into the communities.
If you have QUESTIONS about the test drive prompts, please ask HERE. Questions about the game itself or the general setting should be directed to the FAQ.
AWAKENING IN PAJAK WOOD
The chirping of partridges in the treetops rouses you. Light barely filters through the canopy, just enough to suggest warmth of the sun. By the time it reaches the forest floor, the daylight has taken on a sickly green tinge. You lie amongst the mosses and ferns, the soil cold and just a little damp on your bare skin. Wherever you were before this moment, whatever you were doing or wearing, when you awaken in this forest, you find yourself naked and helpless as the day you were born.Fortunately, you seem to be alone. The birdsong continues as you sit up and get your bearings — aside from a brief wave of disoriented nausea, you seem to be no worse for wear than you last remember. Amongst gnarled oaks and moss, you see nothing around. No sign of civilization or sentient life. Movement flickers at the corner of your eye, but it's just a curious animal — brave squirrels or lizards who have come to see what stirs in their home.
Then, like the rippling of the horizon at noontime, the ash-gray soil around you undulates. Sea, not earth. Something else has come to greet you — their grey bodies blended in so easily with the floor, but as you stagger to your feet, you see them. Thousands of spiders roll like waves underfoot. They crawl towards you from the darker edge of the forest.
attack
Individuals who attack the spiders will find the small spiders are easy to kill, but the pheromones released by their corpses draw larger spiders in their place. Huge, blood-red spiders the size of hunting dogs drop from the treetops. In addition to their venomous bite, which contains a fast-acting paralytic, these creatures are clever: they will attempt to use their webbing to handicap any trespassers, binding limbs together or to trees. If you're unfortunate to become fully cocooned, you don't have long before this forest will be the last thing you see.
hunt
Any aspiring monster-hunters enterprising enough to try to follow the spiders to their nest will move eastward. This way, the forest grows darker and darker — though the sun never grows warm red-gold with sunset.
In the void, the birdsong is replaced by the click of mandibles and the skitter of many legs, but soon it is impossible to see. Even with the brightest magical light does not reach further than a few inches. The air grows heavy and thick, as if it were not air at all but some more solid mass. Almost like liquid-smoke, it presses down upon you. Slowing your movements. Soon, you cannot move at all.
Turn back while you still can — collapsing out here is dangerous. The void can play tricks on your senses. You may find yourself reliving unhappy memories or hallucinating your worst nightmares.
In the void, the birdsong is replaced by the click of mandibles and the skitter of many legs, but soon it is impossible to see. Even with the brightest magical light does not reach further than a few inches. The air grows heavy and thick, as if it were not air at all but some more solid mass. Almost like liquid-smoke, it presses down upon you. Slowing your movements. Soon, you cannot move at all.
Turn back while you still can — collapsing out here is dangerous. The void can play tricks on your senses. You may find yourself reliving unhappy memories or hallucinating your worst nightmares.
But flee the spiders westward and you will discover that the wood is well-populated with the survival resources that someone might seek — berries bushes and trees bearing stone fruits; sticks and dry leaves to aid in the building of a fire; rocks big enough to fashion into crude weapons; small animals that can be hunted or caught; hike long enough, and you might just find the freshwater stream that runs north-to-south, populated by both poisonous toads and delicious crawdads.
What's more, you may run into others with stories just like yours. Some may have already formed clumsy nudist hiking parties, others may still be naked and confused and processing how they have no memory of how they got here. They all stagger vaguely, as you do, with only the sun for a waymarker — and even that won't last long.
Now is a good time to overcome any hang-ups you have about modesty, as it's going to be a long hike. If you sneak a good look at your new companions, you may four varietals of marks on their bodies. Maybe someone will even point out that you have one, too.
EVERY DAY LIKE THE ONE BEFORE
Hike far enough — or long enough that the sun does go down — and signs of life come into view. The glow of fires and lights, the smooth curve of a stone wall. A town sits at the edge of this wood, a reward to the survivors.The fifty-foot wall of beige stone protecting the town's perimeter has only a single entrance — an iron gate positioned on the southern edge. When you arrive, the gate is already open, welcoming people into town from the winding dirt road. Attentive eyes may note that the road itself bears the mark of many wagon wheels and horse hoofs, but not cars.
guards
The guards grant entry to anyone who attempts a conversation with them. However, if your character is more likely to attempt to sneak in, overcome the guards, or attack them, please reach out HERE.
Inside the wall lies a quaint, historic town with a population around five thousand. The streets are cobbled, and their signs are lit by gas lamp. Wooden shutters protect otherwise open-air windows on the buildings, which are all under three stories with gabled roofs. A number of businesses hug the main street — a clockmaker, a cobbler, a bank — while residential homes sprawl outwards towards the wall. At the far end of the main street, visible about a mile to the north now that the trees and the enormous wall is out of the way, sits a castle with three towers.
No matter what time you pass through the gate, the streets are full of people. The climate of the bustle befits a night market or a busy friday downtown — plenty of people to ogle at your exposed body. But despite any efforts on your part to hide or make excuses, the locals don't seem offended by your nakedness. Even families with children don't gawk or look twice. In fact, the further into town you go, the more you may notice that they all wear revealing clothing that, to your sensibilities, may seem sexually suggestive. Some individuals openly expose their breasts and nipples, while some others may incidentally reveal when they turn around to tend to their errands that their dress is backless — entirely! If anything, they seem to be under the impression that you're naked to participate in the evening's events with the rest of them.
Those still determined to find proper clothing will find that modern clothing stores aren't a thing here. The closest this town has is a tailor's shop, which is closed for religious observance, and a stand in the central marketplace selling scarves and blankets.
Fortunately, the people of the town are very generous! The locals will gladly share what they have with those who ask politely — but those items are as revealing as what they're wearing. You might get a mesh bodysuit or drape outfit. Remember not to be ungracious! it's only appropriate for the occasion.
steal clothing
Anyone unwilling to ask nicely for help could break into someone's house or yard to steal some of their clean laundry. Notably, inside their homes, the people of the town also appear to own some more modest apparel. Be sure to alert us HERE if your character pursues this option.
And what is the occasion? The locals are excited and flattered by any interest in their ordinary weekly prayer: the folks dancing and selling their wares are all offering their energies to give thanks and ask for their god's patronage! The abstractions are all familiar — fertility, harvest, peace. Smalltalk makes them eager to chat and draw you into those festivities — including some ceremonial wax-dripping on the exposed parts of your body!
Anyone who chats at length with the townspeople will gather that the locals feel it's better for the newcomers to dive into the deep-end because, since you'll be settling in here, they expect you'll want to participate down the line. They seem to be under the impression that the new arrivals are a boon from their god.
In addition, many of the locals' choice of clothes reveal the same four types of marks on their bodies as the folx who were wandering out in the wood!
ROOM AND BOARD
Once you're tired out, the locals will help you find a place to stay. The boarding house is several stories tall and spacious, accessible through an embellished iron garden gate and obscured by hanging plants, trees, and vines. 
Beyond the overgrown yard is a bright red door, which opens into a spacious cottage.
The house has clearly been empty for some time — dust has gathered on various furnishings — bedding, sofas, curtains, wooden tables. According to the locals, it has remained empty since its last occupant passed away, and that's all they'll say about that!
Each floor of the house has a shared sitting room, but only the first floor has a kitchen — large enough to support feeding the entire household. Here, a few of the townspeople will help out — they stock the kitchen and help make dinner for the new arrivals.
Get a good night's rest. By the light of day, locals will help get the new arrivals set up on the coal stove with breakfast. You may notice they're dressed in a way you would almost call normal — at least, in a manner befitting 19th century Eastern Europe. As you find your way around town to get your bearings, folks are eager to help you find a place to apply your skills so you can contribute to your new home.
Beyond the overgrown yard is a bright red door, which opens into a spacious cottage. The house has clearly been empty for some time — dust has gathered on various furnishings — bedding, sofas, curtains, wooden tables. According to the locals, it has remained empty since its last occupant passed away, and that's all they'll say about that!
Each floor of the house has a shared sitting room, but only the first floor has a kitchen — large enough to support feeding the entire household. Here, a few of the townspeople will help out — they stock the kitchen and help make dinner for the new arrivals.
finding roommates
Don't spend too much time in the dining room going for seconds, though. You'll want to claim a bedroom quickly because each one only has two full-size beds, and there aren't enough spaces for everyone. The last people upstairs will need to double up to squeeze in. Roommates will not be mod-assigned; players should coordinate directly with one another to determine their living arrangements.
Get a good night's rest. By the light of day, locals will help get the new arrivals set up on the coal stove with breakfast. You may notice they're dressed in a way you would almost call normal — at least, in a manner befitting 19th century Eastern Europe. As you find your way around town to get your bearings, folks are eager to help you find a place to apply your skills so you can contribute to your new home.
no subject
That remark, boasting or otherwise, earns a brief arch of one eyebrow — as much a daring as it is a desire to see the proof firsthand, but Ianthe doesn’t keep her waiting. No, Yennefer barely has time to dwell on the significance before the younger woman descends between the vee of her thighs, mouth unabashedly pressing to that apex with growing hunger.
Yennefer hisses first, hips twitching, but each subsequent lick and suck makes her melt further into the mattress. There’s no possibility of her being able to feign anything from this position, not when Ianthe can taste the evidence of everything she coaxes out with lips and tongue and a little teeth. She hadn’t been anticipating this, being unapologetically devoured, and each audible slurp and moan from between her legs starts to elicit an answering sound from her, an idle rocking of her hips as she unashamedly lifts herself toward Ianthe’s questing mouth. She has no qualms about leaving the other woman’s face filthy with her, and at one point her hand grips tighter in the hair at Ianthe’s nape, the loudest moan yet spilling from her when particular attentions are paid to her clit.
She’s not so distracted by this that she doesn’t feel the presence of another’s magic in the room — taking root inside her, then, exploring, drifting down to the places where she’s most sensitive and dripping. It drives another moan from her then, and she fists a clutch in Ianthe’s hair, rubbing her cunt against the other woman’s tongue. ] I know what you’re doing.
[ She doesn’t, really, not the specifics at least, but she knows enough to know when magic has entered the equation, and her half-lidded study of the top of Ianthe’s head paired with slightly parted lips signals she’s not against the concept — not so long as it’s being used for this purpose alone, to heighten things between them. ]
cw: implied incest
Do you now?
[The words were spoken with a knowing chuckle, hot breath washing over sensitive flesh, as Ianthe raised her eyes to lock with Yennefer's. She didn't need to see her target to seal lips over clit. She sucked on the bud, her magic ramping those sex hormones up intensely, driving her to the precipice only to drag her right back to where she'd been.
From there an almost gentle pulsing of suckles and tweaks of magic, gradually increasing with each one, as Ianthe continued to focus on that sweet spot. She didn't expect Yennefer to beg for anything, but she was listening for a whimper.]
no subject
But that hadn't stopped her, in her earliest years as an initiate, from bedding a fellow mage — nor had it prevented her from discovering some of the ways in which magic could only heighten the experience. Which is why she recognizes some form of it occurring here, as Ianthe applies herself most thoroughly to the task between spread thighs; there's clearly more than a skilled pair of lips and tongue propelling her right up to the edge of her own release before drawing her back again.
Eventually, maybe even inevitably, Yennefer's moans rise to fill the space; she has no concept of her own rising volume, only in rising to meet each crest of sensation as it comes over her in waves and then ebbs away before she can crash definitively into an orgasm. Those sounds, slightly strangled in her throat, adopt a note of frustration, especially when it happens enough times in close succession that she knows she's being edged, and her fingers clutch at Ianthe's hair a little harder, tugging close to the scalp. ]
You're teasing me. [ It loses some of its effect as an attempt at scolding when she's half-breathless, eyes wide and wild as they meet Ianthe's, lips half-parted — and when she can tell she's already left a damp patch on the blanket beneath herself, proof of how much the adept has wrung from her. ]
no subject
This wasn't one of those depending on how one viewed her toying with the endocrine system, but Ianthe always believed that if she was going to get in there she was going to Get. In. There. Was it cheating that she converted every ounce of Yennefer's arousal as it slid down her throat into thanergy to oxygenate her body? No matter how it was done, breath control was still breath control.
Ianthe's eyes fluttered, face flushing even more, with that sharp tug upon her hair and crack in Yennefer that provoked to calling her out. She placed some soft kisses on the clit then laid her cheek against Yen's thigh, giving respite from being edged. Ianthe wouldn't let her come too far down though, just enough for a little breather.]
You complaining? Love the way you taste; I could drink from you for hours.
[Was it a threat or just a promise of a good time? Maybe a little of both, but the implication was quite clear: The magic would last as long as Ianthe wished it to last. But for now, the lyctor took two flesh and blood fingers and pressed them inside Yennefer (no bone finger-fucking this time), lazily pumping them.]
no subject
Yet this is where she finds herself, splayed in a stolen bed and well on her way to ruining the sheets entirely for whoever happens to actually be paying for this room, legs spread as Ianthe's tongue and magic — for she's sure it's magic now, in some form or another — brings her to the edge quite skillfully. By the time the adept lets her down in an almost gentle manner, Yennefer hasn't come yet, but she's still breathing as hard as if she has, a light sheen of sweat making tanned skin glow with exertion. ]
We'd likely be caught by then.
[ Hours implies that no one is going to come back with the intention of using this room — though it could be that whoever has paid for this one has already departed, never to return, but they haven't put down coin for it, which means sooner or later, Yennefer's predicting they'll be kicked out. Even with all of that in the back of her mind, the glimpse of Ianthe's cheek briefly nudged against her thigh prompts her to card fingers through all that hair again, enjoying the way the strands slip through them.
Perhaps she should have anticipated the fingers, but she's so wet that they slip into her easily, almost too easily, no resistance given by her body as Ianthe thrusts them into the slick that she's responsible for, and Yennefer's chest heaves with another drawn-in breath, lashes fluttering as her head drops back between her shoulders. ] You're too fucking good at this. [ It's meant to sound like a complaint, or a protest, but it comes out more like praise. ]
no subject
[Ianthe's eyes slipped closed, blue eyes cut off from violet, with Yennefer's fingers dipping into her hair. She loved having the long pale strands played with in any and all capacities. By now, the older woman likely knew that, just as Ianthe finally picked up on the extra decades on Yennefer's body, being inside her as the lyctor was. It didn't bother her at all - older women were sexy and it wasn't as though Ianthe wasn't going to live for centuries upon centuries upon centuries. Once immortal, things like age between another immortal or extra long-lived didn't really matter, did they?]
Heh. You ever come so hard you thought you blacked out but didn't?
no subject
[ It sounds almost like a revelation she's having as the words leave her — but she is thinking about it, about the number of orgasms she's had over the years that are almost difficult to quantify in her mind. There have been the short, abbreviated ones, almost cut off too soon before she'd fully been able to enjoy herself, and the ones that were built up slowly and gradually before finally finishing off with heat and trembling. But truly, has she ever come hard enough to nearly lose consciousness? If there was ever a likely candidate for that, it's someone who isn't even close to being here right now, and she doesn't consider them in anything resembling an amicable enough place for that regardless.
Some of the faces of her partners are blurry in memory, easier to forget, and others stand out more starkly, but how often has she simply chosen to prioritize her power outside of bed rather than what she could be capable of in it? She slides her fingers through Ianthe's hair again, since that seems to be received particularly well, and briefly considers what it would be like to gently lead her around by that same grip, tugging close to the scalp to haul her up. From what she can discern, however, Ianthe seems largely content to remain between the spread of her thighs at the moment. ]
Are you offering to make me?
no subject
Don't you want to find out if I can?
[The knowing smirk that settled on her lips as she looked up to meet the older woman's eyes was accompanied but a quick swell of magic, hoping to elicit a sudden gasp, before evening out again.]
no subject
[ The response was almost instantaneous from her, as if Ianthe's touch was serving as a conduit all its own, lighting up different nerve endings from within and ensuring a reaction would spiral outward from her center. It's only the slightest brush of fingertips, but deep, Ianthe's fingers coaxed in all the way to the second knuckle, and this time, when the magic hits her, Yennefer is a little better prepared for it.
But she has never been capable of resisting a challenge, something that directly provokes her ability to withstand a force of nature — and right now, Ianthe is that force, skilled and daring, with a smirk that Yennefer has to resist the temptation to bite right off of her mouth. Besides, she's come this far already from what was intended to be a spontaneous indulgence; doesn't a part of her deserve this, too? ]
Do it. And don't you dare hold back.
no subject
With each increase, Ianthe stoked the endocrine system, pushing Yen ever so close to the edge, fingers rubbing that spot within to give an all-inclusive experience, into she was dancing upon it. Ianthe could send her over the edge right then but that wasn't going to give the orgasm she sought. She needed to drag Yennefer along that edge until it started to cut.
Holding her there, usage dangled Yennefer's pleasure off the cliff as her magic refused to let go. Drive the heart rate up into palpatations, blow the pupils out, and toe that delicious line between pain and pleasure. Then, only then, did Ianthe stop holding back the tsunami that was Yennefer's orgasm. Sucking hard, fingers within hitting the exact spot to send her magic right up the older woman's body straight into her genital sensory cortex to overload it, Ianthe only held back just enough to prevent an actual passing out.
Probably. Maybe.]
no subject
(Still, she thinks, while she has a stray thought to spare for it, she has every intention of reciprocating once she can feel below the waist again.)
It's more than the combination of fingers and tongue — which in and of themselves would draw her close to orgasm regardless — but the magic that fills her too, something unique enough apart from chaos that she can recognize it distinctly. It's Ianthe inside her, in more ways than the obvious, building her up, higher and higher still, making her hips undulate against the mussed bedsheets. Ianthe, hauling her to the edge again and keeping her there so she can't even so much as waver, holding sensations fast in that grip, making Yennefer choke on her own moan before a more frustrated grunt spills out in its wake.
She nearly holds her breath, in that interim, her frame vibrating with all that tension gathering in her center, violet eyes gone nearly black with how wide and open her pupils are, lips parted in a silent cry — and then, the ecstasy and agony as she finally comes, spine curved in a near-painful arch while she writhes on the bed, squeezing so tight around Ianthe's fingers that it's impressive if the adept can keep fucking her through it. She even gushes, a little, small spurts driven out of her to soak the sheets as she collapses, sweat-sticky thighs still quivering. Only then can she inhale, spots dancing in her vision, head lolling to one side as the last waves of sensation ripple through her. ]
Come here. [ She breathes it, eyes half-lidded, barely capable of lifting up an arm to beckon Ianthe to her, but wanting her closer nevertheless. ]
no subject
Turning her head, she nipped Yennefer on the inner thigh to leave behind a mark of her presence for posterity. Ianthe wiped her face and fingers briefly on the bedding before crawling up the flushed body of the sorceress, so quivering with the aftershocks of pleasure. She paused to press a single soft kiss upon each nipple before flopping to lay smugly up against Yennefer.
While she silently waited for Yennefer to recover, Ianthe caressed the other woman's heated skin with bone fingers. Let the feel of them become associated with the pleasure chemicals flooding her body.]
no subject
Her eyes flutter open, gaze rising to take in the view of Ianthe lounging along her side, her voice low and slightly rasping when she finally manages anything resembling actual speech again. ]
You look quite pleased with yourself.
[ The muscles in her abdomen twitch, subtly, beneath the slide of fingers belonging to Ianthe's other hand, and for not the first time since this began, she affords a quiet thought to what those would feel like inside her. But turnabout is fair play, and while most of Yennefer might be waiting to recover as far as her lower half is concerned, her mouth is certainly capable of returning the favor; she briefly jerks her chin upward, an invitation for Ianthe to come up and take a seat. ]
But not pleased enough, yet, I think.
no subject
[But which direction to take that seat was the question. Both had their merits - a tough choice - so Ianthe bought herself a moment of time with a deep languid kiss as an immediate response, letting Yennefer taste herself thoroughly.
Deciding to face forward instead of having Yennefer's breasts before her to play with if only because it took less time to get there, a knee settled on each side of Yen's head. Perhaps how utterly wet Ianthe was would be a surprise, arousal clinging to her inner thighs, but the lyctor wasn't ashamed in letting it be known how close she'd been. Still was, to be honest.
Looking down with anticipation, Ianthe ran a hand through the curtain of pale hair, pushing the long strands behind her where they would brush against Yen's breasts. Maybe that was the real reason she chose to sit in this direction.]
no subject
You didn't tell me how much you enjoyed that.
[ Granted, Yennefer still has her own taste clinging to her lips, a taste Ianthe shared with her, but it'll soon be replaced as she angles herself; she has enough strength remaining in her that she only has to crane slightly, gaze lifting to where Ianthe is already observing her as she offers that first sweeping lick over damp folds, once and then again before delving in between them.
Initially, it's all about learning for herself, discovering what Ianthe tastes like, what blossoms over her senses, but then she starts to experiment with more intention, alternating strokes of her tongue with a wrap of lips around Ianthe's clit for a firmer suck. Her eyes are still directed above, drinking in every reaction and response she earns, and eventually, her hands rise to cup over Ianthe's backside, fingers establishing a grip that squeezes and kneads in tandem with her mouth. ]
no subject
[Ianthe's stolen eyes were dark with lust, pupils large enough that the brown flecks within the blue were practically undetectable, as she watched that first taste of what was already thick upon her. Her breaths came out in shudders, a clear exertion to not go off like a touch-starved teen getting her first experience with cunnilingus.]
Fuck.
[Soft obscenities slipped from her lips anytime Yennefer found a good spot or combination of licks, her lips trembling or being bitten. It was like fire steadily blazing through a forest faster than it could be doused. It really wasn't going to take long before Ianthe gave up the fight against her own orgasm.
Yen putting hands to work holding and working what little padding Ianthe had on her boney ass was fortuitous as the lyctor tended to unconsciously press herself down and smother anyone whose face she was riding if given full rein. Ianthe needed to be controlled if Yennefer wanted to be able to breathe without effort.]
cw: mentions of physical disability
Her current strength is returning, now, even if she isn't convinced she could wring another orgasm out of herself — that doesn't mean she won't apply herself to the task of being responsible for Ianthe's, even if it means she'll be in dire need of a bath by the time they're through with one another. She's careful not to let the adept seat herself too firmly on her mouth, but she does give Ianthe more of what her hips are seeking, rewarding eagerness with a repetition of sensation, whether that's a tongue beading repetitively against slick flesh or sucking harder on that aroused bud. ]
You're close already, aren't you?
[ It's less of a question and somewhere closer to a statement of fact, as she barely pulls away to give voice to the low-pitched inquiry before veering back in for more — and soon two of her fingers are nudging inside to work in partnership with her mouth, sinking in so easily that even Yennefer herself exhales quietly. ] Go on. Ride them.
no subject
Eyes unfocused and fluttering, she groaned with the penetration and took the command without hesitation. One hand threaded loosely into Yennefer's hair and the other reached behind to palm a breast without care as to which went where. Leaning back on that hand, Ianthe threw her head back as she moved her hips. Grinding on the fingers within and against tongue and mouth, the lyctor rode well the pleasure given to her. Hair tossed about as she let herself go. Mouth open, Ianthe panted and even whimpered into it shifted to a more guttural moan with the rising of her pleasure.
Her hips jerked hard as orgasm overtook her, and the wet mess their coupling created would get smeared over Yennefer's face if she didn't direct Ianthe. Waves of pleasure turned the movement of her hips erratic into she somehow found herself with both hands on the bed as she leaned forward to brace, sweat clinging to her body, and a tangled mess of hair as she panted hard, trying to catch her breath.]
no subject
[ It doesn’t matter that Yennefer’s already come; she’s still enjoying herself, enjoying the view before her and the long ends of Ianthe’s hair tickling her breasts, enjoying the movement of hips that sheathe that wet heat around her fingers again and again. She could still direct this, and perhaps part of her is, but she’s giving some control back, letting Ianthe seize her own pleasure, and not choosing to deny her any kind of release this time around.
Perhaps in the future she won’t be so merciful, but that’s a thought spared for a later encounter — not now, not when the adept is already so close. She lets herself be moved, with the hand in her hair, humming a vibration against Ianthe’s clit when the other cups over her breast to knead firm, and after that there are no words between them at all — just sounds and sighs, moans and murmurs, until Ianthe finds her release.
A mess isn’t something she minds in the immediate moment, not when Ianthe topples forward, palms hitting the mattress as a brace while she undulates through those last aftershocks, and Yennefer will afford her enough time to catch her breath, eventually careful in how she slips out from between the spread of the younger woman’s knees and then gently eases her down against the bed, discreetly swiping the edge of her hand over her own shining mouth. ] I imagine we’ll both need a bath, after that.
no subject
Yeah. But I can-
[She lazily brushed a hand against Yennefer and used a faint wave of thanergy to clean away the evidence of sex from their bodies, dissipating like dust on the wind as it instantly decayed. The sweat unfortunately remained.]
There.
no subject
[ What may prove more telling, though, is that Yennefer doesn’t immediately move to vacate the bed either — part of her is still attempting to regain feeling in her legs, but she’s less resistant to the idea of stretching out on her side, a mirror of Ianthe’s pose as her gaze flickers over the younger woman’s features. ]
Do you always make a habit of bedding near-strangers?
[ They’re not completely unknown to each other anymore; after all, she’s had Ianthe’s magic inside her now, and there’s an inherent intimacy that comes with that, but one brow arches playfully in the wake of the question, indicating that she’s asking without any severity involved. The room itself remains quiet, at least, no sound of approaching footsteps in the hall, so she doesn’t try to make an immediate retreat. Besides, where would she go, when she’ll be better off finding food and a place to rest her head until tomorrow? ]
no subject
Not often. Few catch my attention at the right time. Fewer still that aren't turned off by my arm or my craft.
What about yourself? I'm aware if myself enough to know I'm not really anyone's 'type'.
no subject
[ Perhaps she does, in the most obvious sense — but that person isn’t here, and even if they were, they currently can’t stand the sight of her, so it doesn’t matter anyway. ]
I don’t make a habit of it, really, to answer your question. Usually, if I choose to fuck someone, it’s because I want to. Or perhaps they have something I want, and bedding them is just a means of getting it for myself.
[ She doesn’t pull her hand away, when Ianthe sets hers atop it; there’s another moment before she lightly interlinks their fingers. ]
You intrigued me. Your craft even moreso. And for what it’s worth, you did make me come harder than I have in recent memory.
no subject
What can I say? I'm very good at what I do.
[She smirked, very pleased to have that admittance. Her eyes flickered down briefly to look at their fingers. It was nice to have the continual connection. She only lingered with women like this; men got markedly less post-coitus attention unless there was an investment. There was just something about women.]
I'm a necromancer, by the way. To save you from asking.
no subject
The admittance that follows doesn’t prompt Yennefer to pull her hand away, but her fingers do still, briefly, against Ianthe’s. ]
Necromancy is forbidden, where I’m from. Not to say there aren’t mages who attempt it, so perhaps it’s not forbidden so much as… [ Her mouth twists briefly, wryly. ] Severely frowned upon.
[ But her gaze finds Ianthe’s again as she runs her fingertips along the delicate bone’s of the necromancer’s wrist. ] You seem just as competent at using your power on the living, though.
(no subject)
phone tagging atm so apologies for any typos lmao
Me too lol
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)