Contains: F/F, Dominance, Reluctance, Succubus
Something a little more plotty–and sweet as well as sexy, I hope!
Still feeling my way through the proper flow of erotica with more plot in it (if I release something serial, am I legally obligated to put a sex scene in every installment? XD) It look a little longer to create the idea of this strange 18th-century-france-but-with-magic universe in my head than it does to write a the more one-and-done kind of scene, but it was so much fun! …once I made through the agony of getting the first draft down on paper (with the help of my long-suffering girlfriend, thanks N!)
Moving right along… o_o Hot-headed/imperious noblewoman with a heart of gold is one of my favor character types, so I’d love to come back to Chaudette in the near future.
My forwardness draws a moan from the Scion. For an instant her body goes rigid, and I think she means to pull away—but in response to my searching fingers, she only draws me deeper into her, dragging my cheek in line with hers. Her lips work against my ear in quiet insistence, and her body embraces me with care and tenderness. With a moaning thrum, her teeth clench around my earlobe, sending a bolt of pain down my neck. In a fit of pique, I hook my fingers backwards, towards myself, and the Scion’s pained inhale fills the cave.
I startle back, as far her hold on me allows. And, in that moment of quiet reflection, I feel a seize upon my heart. I am paralyzed. I am… what am I doing?
“You did not hurt me,” she says. Instantly, the desire flickering through her eyes calms, the lust leaving her visage as quickly as vanishes a summer storm. I’ve heard so many stories of the Nonem—demonic servants of elder things, locked down in the darkest reaches of the world—so it’s with some surprise I behold the look of subtle kindness, of encouragement and compassion, that spreads across the Scion’s face. “Are you afraid?”
I blink my eyes against the shaken-loose bit of hair that curls against the side of my nose. It’s only now I recognize how brightly my blushing cheeks must burn, how quickly my breath leaves my body in aching pants, and how my heart strums in my chest. Never having felt more childish, I avert my eyes from her.
Taking me again by my cheeks, the Scion tilts my head upwards so I cannot avoid her gaze. “You’ve no cause to be ashamed. Even the boldest knights know fear, when confronted with something unknown.” As her eyes bore soulfully into mine, a soft pressure insinuates itself between our bodies, eking its way against my belly.
“W-what are you—” I try to angle my head, look down.
She spares me a smile so deep it creases her brow. “Here, here, here,” comes like a soothing whisper, like a servant calming the younger Chaudette as she sat pointedly in the mud after falling from some low tree branch. As she shushes me, the sound almost whistling around her lightly pointed canines, I feel a clumsy tug and pull against the knot of my trousers. My face twists in obvious consternation, just as my body shakes, unwilling to keep itself standing. The pressure relents, and one of her hands leaves my cheek to dip itself between our snared bodies, to undo the knot, and to subtly slide down my trousers, baring a scarce inch of my bottom to the cold air, and then retreating, so that, again, both sides of my face are clasped by her tender, supple hands.
Without her hand between us, again our bodies can mesh with each other. I exult in the pendulous weight of her substantial breasts compressing against my small ones. I wallow in the smell of her, redolent of her femininity, and in the softness of her hair as it brushes against my face, and in the moist feel of her breath curling against my nose. My eyes swell with water. A gulp snags in my throat, painful like a caught bolus or pill. A warm, careful touch traipses its way across my bared thigh. I cower, my shoulders tensing, knowing it to be her tail, and knowing what she intends to do with it.