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hardest of hearts: chapter 3 | lucy x ona 18+

✧ chapter 3: chapter 1, chapter 2, chapter 4 🔜

✧ word count: 12k

✧ chapter tags: heavy smut, hurt/comfort, lots of emotions, BDSM, non-football AU, implied neurodiversity, spanking, lesbian sex, aftercare, these girls are switches (just wait)

✧ blurb: There is no reason why they should work; Ona likes spontaneity, Lucy likes certainty. Ona is fiercely indepedent, Lucy has never been alone.

Oh, and Ona is a dominatrix, but Lucy can't part with control. Even when she wants to.

Perhaps they could both teach the other a thing or two about trust, and taming the urge to run from fear.

ao3 link or read below

Lucy left her hoodie.

Discarded to the side of Ona's couch, tinged, in that wonderful way hoodies tend to trap, with Lucy's scent.

Ona stares at it–now slung over her vanity chair in an effort to remind Lucy to take it–while someone is between her legs. She doesn't blink, in case it disappears, in case the fantasy shatters. She thinks it strange that a piece of clothing has become so erotic in that moment, but that thought was just concealing the truth of it all. That she'd been thinking about Lucy this entire time.

When she comes, she thinks of Lucy's hands. And the hoodie.

Seeing this girl was confirmation that Lucy was indeed distinct in her mind. This girl could never be Lucy, as lovely and casual as it is. She just couldn't be, not after every exchange with Lucy felt so confronting in its intimacy that it filled her with a healthy weight of dread each time.

Her disinterest was sudden—not just in this girl, but in seeing anyone else in general. And in the hazy aftermath, a lousy conversation, she has a tight chest. She was losing control of what she wanted, and that was perhaps her worst fear.

No one was allowed to stay over at her apartment. No matter how good the sex was or how late it was. She'd made that mistake one too many times. It was just awkward and disconcerting. Her bed was a sanctuary for her, no one else.

It was strange—most saw her as quite a spontaneous and easy-going character, which was true in some regards, but in her internal world, everything must be on a retractable leash. Nothing bad can happen if she pins every string delicately in place, even when they inevitably overlap and impede the one below it.

Things feel too heavy—a darkness that has no face or name, only a shadow that engulfs the light. Ona finds herself emotional in bed, knees retracted to her chest, heart pounding. So she texts Lucy a pathetic little confession. Because Lucy was generous with her love, generous enough to give Ona something others wouldn't.

I miss you!

Lucy is answering back before Ona can even leave their chat.

—I miss you too x —Everything OK?

Ona rolls over, a faint sigh, her room pitch-black bar the blue illumination from her phone. She takes many minutes to decide what an appropriate excuse would be.

Yes, just hoping your week is good so far 💐

—Same old same old. Good though. I sent you some things on Insta 🥰

Ona had seen the notifications, but purposefully ignored them to open at a more convenient time. Which hadn't come around in four days, apparently.

It's just dog videos. And one about a new Catalan restaurant in Manchester. Is she disappointed or relieved?

Ona closes her phone. She feels nauseous.

In her heart, she could read Lucy like she could read most people.

Lucy was the type to wait on the train tracks, knowing what was to come, but would stay anyway. Grasping onto thin, senseless hope that the train will stop for her. That her heart is vast enough, wild enough, to stop even the maddest of heart-wrecking monsters.

Or, perhaps she knew she was useless against the fortress people made of themselves, but she needed a grand hero's ending to know the book was over. Maybe Lucy could be kicked to the curb a thousand times, but her hope is innate. Love, the true kind, is worth it to her.

Ever since Ona was but a child, she knew there was something to be afraid of.

She had made mistakes in the past. Bad, bad mistakes in love. Granted, people who claimed to love her had done bad things to her too. Made bad decisions that unravelled the mostly-faithful trust of others that she once had.

No, hope wasn't innate for her. But at some point in her innocence, she had procured enough to be naive.

She never liked to assume the worst, but that was now instinct. Freeze or flight. To herself she can admit, she has no fight in her.

Ona sits in deep focus at a trendy co-working space in town, doing a little work, doing a little organising of a kinky session with someone new in two weeks. She fires off the outline of her protocols, for them to mull over and decide if she's a fit for them. Sometimes her interest in these elaborately organised interactions waned—she'd much rather invite friends over for dinner, or sit in a jazz-bar with a stranger who can still imagine who she might be.

And sometimes, the whole psychological freedom part of it didn't administer as strongly as it should, and she is left feeling far too much like herself. Just a scared, feral creature, like one exhibited at the zoo, worthy only of momentary affection from onlookers, maybe a sympathetic sigh. Then they're gone.

She had also sent the protocol to Lucy a few days prior. Even if they weren't quite strangers anymore, it would surely be useful for her to get an idea of how Ona handles the logistics and safety of it all. She isn't certain of how far they'll go, or even what they'll do, but making those correct decisions in the moment was well within her capabilities.

Anyway, kink in theory, and kink in the moment, often couldn't oppose more. Lucy may be sure of herself, may think she knows her body, but Ona is experienced enough to know that thinking, assuming, isn't nearly enough. It has taken her years to learn her limits and responses, and even then, it is still entirely unpredictable. Triggers, positive or negative, can be unforeseen, and so molecular that you couldn't possibly anticipate them.

Lucy texts her a link to a Google document. It is titled with only the date, and LB. Very inconspicuous.

Ona's eyes widen and she straightens up a bit when she's hit with a very abrupt list. She smashes the brightness-lowering button on her laptop.

Like: .Servicing (giving pleasure but being controlled) .Praise and degradation (heavy) .Pain (scratching, biting, would like to try impact stuff) .Masochisim (especially physical) .Anything rough, physically exhausting, exhilarating .Sensory stuff? (physical touch, deep pressure)

Don't like: .Too much movement restriction (open to it, but I can struggle) .Verbal degradation (giving) .Anything too messy or uncomfortable long-term

She swallows, heavy and hot.

Thank you for sending that, it's very good to know. It will probably take some testing things out and might not all be perfect at first. But that's OK. It's part of the fun ☺️ Is there anything in particular you want to try?

—Most of the stuff on that list I haven't ever experienced to the full extent. But I suppose the pain stuff could be fun to try out? Honestly, I'm really open-minded. I trust you x —I think getting into the headspace will be the hardest part 😬

I will be brainstorming for the rest of the week. You will be able to get to that place. Don't worry. 😉

—Ok! —And if I chicken out on the day?

Ona stares at that message for a moment.

Then we will do nothing. Please, if you change your mind, it doesn't matter. We could chill instead, or you don't have to come over 😊

—Only joking! I'm still very down, but thanks for the consideration. I will definitely be coming over so long as I'm welcomed. —Send me a selfie. Work is boring.

Only my face?

—Yeah...what else?

[One Attachment]

—WOW!! The glasses 😍 The hair 😍 Freckles 😍 Beauty x

😇 Thank you XOXO

Ona was rarely antsy like this, shifting around on her feet and moving from couch to desk, to kitchen to bedroom.

She blinks twice in the mirror when she looks at her body in lingerie. The black shirt and straight dark-wash jeans come on before the feelings of dread and imperfection can. She tightens a belt, darkens her eyes, neatens her bun.

Putting on the mask had become ritualistic. She needed the calm, the queues, otherwise getting to her dominant headspace was difficult. But she wasn't stepping out onto a grand stage. She was the sole conductor, sole performer, and audience all at once. The audience part was the most damning—the hardest to appease. She was so critical of herself.

But...when the intensity melts away, that is when her fingertips burn with the magic of unequivocal trust. Of herself, and others. The control becomes a meditative state, and the anxiety of, God, fucking everything, finally lifts. That is why she likes it.

The control part was actually quite predictable for her personality type—even others could have guessed that, friends, who weren't so keen on hearing of her more sadistic side (they are merely uninitiated in their true desires, shackled by societal/patriarchal shame etc. etc).

The more caring tendencies that underpinned her approach to dominance and sex were the most surprising to her. It often happened without thinking—she broke into people, and they leaned on her, and she didn't crumble. In fact, she enjoyed it. So long as she could hand them back afterwards.

The box comes off its shelf, thudding as it hits the wardrobe floor. To the living room she brings a hairbrush and tie, before setting out a glass of water for them both.

Then she waits. Coco watches with half-open eyes at her sensitive face, her bitten lips twinging with raw pain from the lip balm.

When she hears three egregious raps on the door, she rushes up, before pulling herself back. Pushing something down. Taking a breath.

She opens the door with a tight expression, something between a smile and a compulsive movement of uncertainty. Her stomach gets light and tingly in that uncomfortable, retching way.

Lucy is so much taller than her. Stronger, too.

But it's all broken when Lucy gives her a bright and encouraging smile. One so innocent and sincere, tender as her soul. Ona welcomes her in, after they exchange a hello that Ona is too lost in thrumming heartbeats to process.

"You alright?" Lucy sighs casually as she shrugs her coat off, before leaning down to push off her sneakers. Ona adjusts the hap-hazardly hung coat, the fabric's residual warmth on her fingertips making them linger there for a few extra moments.

"Yes. Happy you're here." Ona finds herself saying.

Lucy glances up sweetly, attention not leaving Ona as she stands up and comes close enough to be close, but not intimate. "Very chic." Lucy brushes the shoulder of Ona's shirt, before starting to trace the hair that goes back into her bun. Ona stills, pleasantly bemused, before Lucy retreats her hand subtly out of self-awareness.

With a genuine smile, Ona takes her wrist back, and pulls her in for a hug. She does it before she or Lucy can think, and they easily settle into the warmth. Ona presses her face into Lucy's shoulder, closing her eyes. The thrumming stops.

When they pull back, Lucy is grinning. "Have you eaten yet?"

"No."

"Not even breakfast?"

"I had breakfast."

"Come on." Lucy lowers her gaze as she leans forward again, and Ona laughs.

"Why? Do you want me to make something?"

"No, but I can. If you want." Lucy says, as though the idea was pre-determined.

"You want to cook for me?" Ona answers, smiling almost shyly. It was the last thing she had expected, but Lucy's charm was borderline coercive.

"Well I'm not gonna cook for just myself."

Ona has to think, not letting her eyes leave Lucy so as to let her know she has no other priority right now.

"I'd like to." Lucy adds, quieter, making a small step into Ona's space.

Ona softens. "Why do you do this to me?" She crosses her outstretched arms over Lucy's shoulders, while Lucy delicately holds her waist. It's a strange kind of familiarity, like she recognises Lucy from somewhere. Maybe a part of herself, the parts she likes best.

"I'm doing nothing." She smirks back, before they both lean in for a soft kiss that neither can help. Lucy's fingers vaguely tighten their grip, only wanting Ona closer. They are cautious with it, or perhaps were savouring the intimacy. Warmth flourishes in Ona's chest, forcing something heavier to dissipate. Wishing she could feel this safe all of the time.

Her hypothesis was confirmed. Kissing didn't usually feel like this. It was always nice, usually warm and relaxing, but not this.

"How are you feeling about trying some things out, still happy?" Ona strokes Lucy's cheek with a featherlight knuckle. She poses the question ambivalently, so as not to pressure Lucy one way or the other.

Lucy takes a beat. "Definitely." She replies finally, just a healthy nerve to her tone.

Ona gives a small nod. "Cool. We can eat and then talk about it more. Whatever feels right."

"Sounds good."

They stand side-by-side at the kitchen counter. Ona finds her hands are shakier than usual as she attempts to make natural work of a gifted artisan knife on some veggies.

"What are you doing?"

Lucy looks up, before lifting the plate. "Shit,"

"You can just boil it, you know," Ona says.

"What do you mean?"

"Boiling tofu in salt. You get a nicer texture."

"That can't be true." Lucy lifts the plate to flip the tofu again.

"It is." Ona pads over to the sink to wash her hands.

Her face gives away her thoughts in a way she has never liked. This time it's a faint scowl, wondering how Lucy feels incongruous and familiar at the same time. True, she seemed to work in some strange ways, but...so did Ona. Stranger than Lucy, she is certain. What she liked already about Lucy was how grounded she is in herself. She spoke and acted her mind, hid nothing. And she didn't think twice about making Ona feel considered. The simple, implicit actions that meant the most.

"Thanks." Lucy taps her back as she passes her. Ona looks over her shoulder with a fond smile.

"—She'd be greeting me and letting me try all sorts, giving the dog treats and just. So lovely. Not everyone was like that though, it was mostly the expats, so many who were just...yeah...so odd. I don't blame you lot for being funny about it."

"What about the girls?" Ona smirks softly as she takes another forkful of food. Lucy's expression stiffens in a way it hasn't all lunch.

"The girls?"

"Mhm. How did the Catalan girls treat you?"

"I made some friends."

"Lucy." Ona grins, and Lucy rolls her eyes amicably.

"I went on a few dates. Nothing...nothing worth writing home about."

Ona hums absently, looking down at her plate."What would your dream date be?"

Lucy considers it for a moment, letting the image paint itself. Her past and a distant dream converging. "Maybe like....dinner at a nice outside restaurant in summer. Walk down to the beach, get an ice cream. That sort of thing."

Ona smiles to herself, unable to look Lucy in the eyes.

"Why'd you ask? What's yours?"

Ona pulls her mouth to one side in thought.

"No whips or leather involved." Lucy mumbles, provoking a daring glare and light kick of her shins beneath the table.

"Something quiet." She decides before Lucy can tease her. "And something a bit...not perfect. Maybe it's raining too much or we picked it randomly. I always want things to be perfect but usually they're best when it's unexpected."

"I agree. Maybe something at home?"

"Maybe."

"You said we."

"I did?" Ona glances up. Lucy is grinning this time.

"Yeah. You did."

Lucy tugs her down onto the couch once every dirtied utensil is in the running dishwasher. It's special that you get to see my crazy side, you know Ona stated after Lucy expressed some valid concern over her insistence that the kitchen cannot go untidy for a moment longer.

Lucy didn't really care though. Nor did Ona. Not when she's pulling off Lucy's hoodie to get closer to her skin, heart racing and hands eager to find touch. The thin black tank-top does nothing to hide her ridiculous arms or torso, and Ona can't even fully form the thoughts she has about them. She'd found Lucy hot for a long time, across many months of Instagram stalking and getting flustered when Stani would mention her.

But everything falls quiet when they find a comfortable position and her head drops to Lucy's shoulder, weight settling in all the right places. Lucy's arms circle over her back, giving her a gentle squeeze, approving of the closeness.

Ona thinks about Lucy submitting. It suddenly becomes a lot of pressure to guide her through this, even though Lucy is well-experienced and so is Ona. She always felt the stakes—it was what kept her present, but with Lucy, the stakes felt more like sentences. Fail, and she might never be able to look herself in the mirror again. Succeed, and an even worse beast might present itself in the confines of her heart.

This wasn't part of the ritual. But it was nice. Needed. Lucy was a wondrous kind of gentle, rare as a winter comet.

"Thanks for doing this," Lucy murmurs after the sound of nothing but their breathing becomes too repetitive for her comfort.

"Doing what?" Ona finds her hand on Lucy's wrist, absently tracing the lines of her tattoos. A mirage of cover-ups, symbols, moments captured. She'll ask about it sometime.

"Dunno...being sweet with me. It feels really good. Like, long week at work, everything's so grey and miserable, this is just...really nice."

It's hard to know exactly what Lucy means. If it was slant, or the whole truth. Lucy read as the type to intend grand meanings, but words never quite reach the places she wants. Ona could relate on the basis of language alone. Or, Lucy is just cautious—like we all are; of rejection, of others' sensitivity.

Ona too was very honest. To a fault. Nothing she said could be untrue, which meant many words and thoughts went unspoken.

"It is nice. You are...so soft." Was softness the right word? Unlikely. Soft made her think of pillows, of cat fur, of woollen jumpers and cashmere scarves. But the warmth and pressure of Lucy's body right now was not unlike that—a veil of safety, one felt far beneath the skin.

She hadn't thought she liked soft people, because nothing about life itself was soft. But Lucy was still firm in all the right places.

She considers mentioning in the bleary intimacy that she is never this easy. Never this sweet. As if a warning that it could change. She doesn't want it to, but it would. At some point, she will pull away.

Lucy's contentment is palpable. So she won't disrupt it.

At some point her lips drift to Lucy's collarbone, dropping lazy kisses to tanned skin. They land higher, on her neck, and Lucy tilts up to give her more access.

She is surprised when Lucy's fingers subtly lift the hem of her shirt."Please?"

Steadily, Ona's head lifts.

"I just want to be close to you." Lucy murmurs, almost pleadingly. Shy, too, when Ona looks her in the eyes.

She concedes—just this once. Because Lucy is quite adorable when she cannot stop herself.

Lucy's hands hesitate momentarily after the nod, as if second-guessing her decision, needing more confidence, before slowly pulling the shirt up and over Ona's head, mouth twitching a bit and pupils dilating when she catches sight of her body. Muscles defined as they hold her body up, breasts clad in a dark-red bralette.

Then a similarly scarlet flush spreads across Lucy's face, and her gaze lifts to meet Ona's with mousy guilt. Ona smirks and puts a quick hand on Lucy's chest to triumphantly detect her thumping heart.

"You're so funny." Ona teases, before relaxing back down with a more intentional position atop her, face still inches apart.

"Sorry," Lucy says with playful timidness, making some attempt at looking away. Ona redirects her attention with a knuckle on her chin.

"Why?" She grins back, amused.

Lucy has to force herself to stay looking up, sweat already clinging to the back of her neck. "I don't like to...you know..."

"I'm really fucking obsessed with your body. Your arms...your abs...your pretty smile. Does that make us even?" Ona's flirtation comes with a smile, but sounds low and steady, smoothing her hands over the places she speaks of, up to Lucy's lust-stricken face, which she holds gingerly for a few slowed seconds. Lucy's pupils widen.

"Did that make you wet?" Ona firms her face, speaks quieter, taking Lucy's silence for her own, leaning down until their lips graze.

"So wet." Lucy confesses finally, making an attempt at leaning in to kiss her properly, but Ona tilts her head away. Lucy whines, a sound Ona has never heard from her. The shift isn't lost on her, the heat kills, but she was nothing if not restrained. Lucy fills the silence again, "Let me kiss you."

"Not yet." Ona's forehead drops to Lucy's shoulder, taking in a deeper breath of her own to maintain some semblance of composure.

"What?" Lucy answers in a small voice. Hardly there.

"Why do you want to kiss me?" Ona returns calmly, steadying her knees so she can sit up and straddle Lucy.

She observes keenly as the expression below her wavers. The question a trick to bide silence. But Lucy finds an answer.

"Because I haven't been able to stop thinking about you. For one moment."

"What were you thinking about?" Ona takes Lucy's hand to her waist. Her hips make subtle, provocative movements. Lucy's mouth goes dry.

"Everything."

"No, tell me." Ona prompts, her voice measured and intentional.

Lucy tilts her chin up a bit, the breath she pulls in bringing her confidence. "Getting used by you." Ona's body freezes at the rasp in her voice. "Being your toy. Being someone for you that I've never been before." Life flashes in Lucy's bright eyes. She hardly hesitated that time, her hand squeezing Ona's hip for effect.

It hits Ona, in every place, hot and heady and fucking hell. It takes Godly strength to hold herself back. She often got some degree of turned on, even during non-sexual sessions, but Lucy made her feral.

"You've got a dirty mouth." She huffs, swiftly moving off of Lucy and distracting her mind by grabbing her shirt from the ground.

"Sit up." She adds, still looking away. The shirt comes on, and Lucy pushes herself up, swivelling her legs onto the floor. She doesn't speak, instead waiting with bated breath.

"Do you still want to try a scene? A proper one?" Ona poses the question as neutrally as she can. Just having sex is something she is far closer to conceding to than she'd anticipated, but she wasn't impatient. She lived for the drag of anticipation, and this was a crescendo worth waiting for.

"Yeah. I do." Lucy nods surely, smiling meekly when Ona looks over her flushed face.

"So you know we have to talk about it first? I'd love to skip to the fun part...but I need you safe. And comfortable. Okay? I...don't want to risk anything."

"I get it. I'm all for it."

Ona shifts in her seat. Lucy makes her feel strangely small, even when confident and in clear dictation of their exchange. Even when Lucy looks far more nervous than her.

"I need you to communicate, best you can. 'Cause I don't know what your reactions might mean." Ona feels the heat of the earlier moment still reverberating in her chest. And her ideas for Lucy were sexy, but only if Lucy was as into it as she was. And, was prepared for the reality of what submission can bring. Not that she could ever adequately put the experience into words.

"Yeah. I just don't know what to expect. It's different, like I'm experienced, but..." Lucy's hands come together on her lap, and Ona easily catches the faint timidity. She shuffles closer to pull one of Lucy's hands into her own lap.

"It's fine. It's always different with someone new anyway. With power exchange, it can get intense, but if it's too much, you say."

Lucy's gaze quite stagnantly fixates on the carpet, but Ona keeps a careful eye on her as she continues.

"You have final say in everything we do. Slow and steady, yeah?"

Lucy glances at her to affirm understanding, and nods. "Sounds good." Her usual soft and playful demeanour melts away into something more sensitive. Understandably so—the conversation was always quite clinical at first. It wasn't the sexiest thing, particularly when Ona finds herself sounding like a small-text terms-and-conditions pamphlet.

She brushes the back of Lucy's hand with her thumb as she waits a breath to continue. "Can I ask you a question that's a little personal? But I think it's important I ask."

"Go ahead."

"Do you have any bad past experiences when it comes to kink...or sexual stuff? Anything you think could come up?" She softens her tone, though earnest still.

Lucy sinks her chin into her palm in gentle contemplation.

"I think...no, nothing major....Maybe like...early on, my teens or early twenties, I had people who didn't always understand the way my brain works. 'Cause I didn't understand it myself. Why I needed certain things, or why I couldn't handle others." Lucy says, and Ona feels warmth from her courage. "I sometimes...pushed myself too hard, to be someone I wasn't, to mask that. But I'm not like that anymore. I try to be honest, and myself."

Usually, Ona maintained a healthy distance during these conversations, to establish their severity, but she figures, somehow, they are close enough not to need that.

She doesn't dwell on the fact she can't empathise with having such confidence in herself. "Can you think of any examples of things you can't handle? Or times you felt...misunderstood?"

"They wouldn't understand why I couldn't just relax. Like, my mind was everywhere, even though I was comfortable and happy, I couldn't help it. So I guess sometimes that was taken personally. Same as when I'd get...overwhelmed, need space, or something random would put me on edge and the more pressure I felt to explain myself, the more...I just couldn't." Lucy says with earnest composure, though the tension sounds in her voice regardless.

"I do get it." Ona assures. "This is for you, for both of us to have fun, so you tell me if something comes up. Yeah?" Ona lifts Lucy's hand to her own chest.

"I will do. Thanks for asking. I really appreciate it." She replies, looking up at Ona softly.

"I like you for you, I don't want you to change." Ona adds with a small grin of her own, and Lucy scrunches her nose a bit.

"Same goes for you." Lucy replies.

Ona had learnt to hold back her sentimental side around people she wasn't particularly close to, even if she did have thoughts to share, but Lucy softened her.

"My idea is that we start with some small queues. Nothing physical, just words and guidance. Good?"

"Yeah."

"I will try different approaches with my voice and my actions. I want you to lean into the ones that feel best. You can also tell me if you like something, or if you don't."

"Got it." Lucy nods again.

"You remember the traffic-light system I texted you about?"

"Green, keep going, yellow, pause or slow down, red is stop. I've used those before I think."

"Yes, I'll ask you what colour, and you can say one, or specify what you want. Like slower, gentler, a break, a different position, you know. 'Red' and 'stop' can be immediate safe-words, too."

"I'm happy with that. What about you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Do you need a safeword? Like, if I'm pushing you to do something, or you need a break."

Ona furrows her brows. In her years of experience, no one had ever asked that before. Especially not at the first session.

"I think...I'll just say it. I don't know. It's never come up before but I guess it's possible."

"Hm. Well you can have the same safe-words then. I want you to enjoy it too."

"I will." That, Ona is sure of. They look at each other, gentle, madly sensual. Almost frustrated that they can't read each other's minds.

Time feels hazy at the edges when she is with Lucy like this, when it's all looks and touches and realising this is all quite new after all. But maybe that's fine—the thoughts are beyond words anyway.

"You may kiss me now," Ona mutters, and an eager grin spreads on Lucy's face. Their hands break apart and Lucy's come up to Ona's face instead, thumb brushing across her freckled cheek.

"Ridiculous." She whispers, before leaning in and kissing Ona deeply. Only a few moments before Ona's tongue makes a languid gesture against Lucy's, and when Lucy inches back, Ona's hand pushes her back in place from the sensitive nape of her neck. Those fingers brush up into her scalp, and then lower, holding in a light pinch.

She drags her lips wetly down Lucy's jaw, a commanding grip, before locking onto her neck, biting and tugging hard until Lucy makes a sharp, whiny sound that punches Ona right in the gut.

"Your pain tolerance is good." Ona thumbs gently over the reddened skin.

"I know." Lucy murmurs, flustered already.

"You said you like being marked. Does that count?" Ona smirks a little, fingers roaming Lucy's neck.

"Yeah. I like that." She replies after a bashful pause.

Ona presses a final soft kiss to Lucy's lips—she just can't help herself. There was no salvation for how obsessed she was with everything that Lucy entailed. It could all be held back, until she had her like this. Then, it feels rather dangerous.

Lucy looks at her expectantly.

"I'd like to put your hair up before the session. Yes?" Ona pulls some of Lucy's hair into her hand.

Lucy nods. With slight hesitation, she slips to the floor, sitting between Ona's legs with her back turned.

"Good. Thank you," Ona remains soft, composed, holding Lucy's shoulder as she leans over to grab the hairbrush and tie. Her legs press into Lucy, as she begins to gently comb through her hair. This was one of her favourite rituals. For no real reason, apart from it being calming, and engaging of the senses. Her thing.

"Relax for me." Ona coos, going slowly and feeling Lucy's head fall back a bit each time she brushes.

"Can I call you a good girl? Do you like that?" She asks, as casually as she can. Lucy doesn't speak, but nods vigorously. Ona grins, approving with a soft, knowing mhm. As though she knew full well she was taking things from Lucy that others couldn't even see.

Hair pulled back in a secure low bun, Ona bends down to kiss Lucy's forehead, hands cupping her face. "Beautiful." She murmurs. She tilts Lucy's head back, to place a messy upside-down kiss on her lips that makes them both giggle a bit.

"Ona..." Lucy murmurs, as if a thought was there, but faded before she could catch it. She turns around too quickly for Ona to redirect her, but remains kneeling, lowering her head.

"I know, baby," Ona whispers without much thought, stroking Lucy's hair a few times as she leans her face against her leg. Sympathising with a feeling that was too tender to name.

"Go to the bedroom and kneel by my bed. Hands in your lap. I'll join you in one minute." Her voice comes low and with a spike in demand. Yet, still soft enough that Lucy can answer to it without even feeling the direct control. It's a small nod, and then she's standing up, incredibly conscious of the eyes that follow her until she disappears into the hallway.

Ona refills a glass of water, purposefully waiting a minute or two extra to test Lucy, and frame her own thoughts. She expected fear, the constricting feeling that Lucy brought her, but instead, it's raw desire that pulses through her with every shallow breath, so intense and sinful that she wonders if something is wrong with her. Her hands shake as she stares into the glass. She begins to smirk. Something is indeed very wrong with her.

When she pushes open the door to the bedroom, she finds herself smiling appreciatively at the sight of Lucy kneeling, back straight, but fiddling with her hair. Her hands fly down when she sees Ona in her peripheral. Looking once, and then looking away. Sheepish, but braving the uncertainty and probable strangeness of forcing herself into what was for her, an unnatural position.

Ona takes slow, deliberate steps, sensing Lucy's anticipation, and her silent plea for approval that she had done it right.

She stops above her, close enough that she has to look right up to meet Ona's face. Ona places a gentle finger on her chin for effect. "Would you like me to touch you today? Maybe give you an orgasm?"

The forwardness of the question makes Lucy blush, having to stumble over her reservations.

"I think so." She says beneath her breath when Ona's stern look demands a verbal response. Ona does well at hiding it, but something deep and longing tugs in her chest.

"You can be honest." Ona raises her eyebrows.

"I am being honest." Lucy replies, her nerves manifesting as an almost guilty, sultry look on her face. As if deprived for too long of being with someone who met her in this carnal kind of hunger.

"And would you like to touch me too?"

Lucy nods rather enthusiastically this time, pushing back a smile.

"Why?" Ona prompts lightly, fingers drifting to stroke Lucy's face, then up to her hairline.

Lucy takes small, uncharacteristic pauses before speaking. Her effort doesn't go unappreciated. "Because you're gorgeous. And I can't stop thinking about you."

Ona feels warmth cascade down her spine. The words truer than the touch of her skin. "What was that you said earlier? You wanted to be my toy?" Ona dials her tone back, effortlessly directed at Lucy and Lucy only.

Lucy's breath gets caught, her eyes dark and wild as they gaze up in perfect, anticipatory compliance. That for Ona, was a thrill larger than life.

"Wanted me to use you?" Out of Ona's jean pocket comes a black leather collar, thin with a small silver ring at the front. She holds it out first, sensing Lucy's touch-driven curiosity, letting her gingerly feel the material between her thumb and pointer.

"Yes?" Ona questions, gentler. A voice removed from the play.

"Yes."

She delicately buckles the collar to Lucy's neck, not tight enough to be felt in every place, not loose enough to be a nuisance. She has to nudge Lucy's gaze back to hers.

"The way you look at me is important. You look at me when I'm asking a question, always. Otherwise, your gaze must be lowered." Ona says, intending not to plant the stakes too high, because while she adored being quite ruthless in her adherence to perfection, it takes practise for these things to come naturally. She would be patient with Lucy in the places that mattered. Make her tremble in all the rest.

Ona takes to one knee, maintaining her height, as she guides Lucy's legs closer together, her feet to be tucked under, and finally, palms to be straight and flat on her thighs. Her fingertips slowly glide over them as she pulls away. "When I tell you to get into position, this is what I mean. Gaze lowered, remember? I may also do this—" Ona sharply snaps her fingers with as much force as she can, making Lucy jolt. "—To tell you. Understood?"

"Yes." Lucy plays it well, but of course, there is still an inauthenticity to her voice and held breath.

"I'm going to test your patience. Because I know how badly you like to touch, and to follow. You will keep your eyes down, no movement." Ona raises back to full height. "Colour?"

"Green." Lucy replies, without needing prompting.

"Good..."

At first, her eyes don't stray from Lucy. Walking an exaggerated circle around her room, towards her wardrobe, where she picks up a single paddle from the floor, and walks back to place it on the bed.

"Good girl." She whispers, and Lucy looks up. "Ah." Ona points to the floor. It's all subtleties, soft around the edges, nothing harsh or even too far from her usual character.

The silence speaks for itself, the silence that is usually so rare in an intimate scenario. Taking the comforts away made everything more electrifying, made you appreciate the other ways someone can be felt. Even in sound, in your own fear, in knowing you can do as you please but choosing not to. Choosing to submit.

Ona lets the carpet creak beneath her with every weighted step back towards the wardrobe.

Anticipation is the part that makes anything worth waiting for. The promise contained the simplest of gestures, the quietest of moments. The wait was part of the prize.

With each return, she reads the twitches of Lucy's body. Fingertips pressing into her thighs, parting her lips and closing them again. She must feel Ona's meticulous surveillance like sun on burning skin, and is holding herself back. How very sweet, Ona thinks.

Lucy was everything she wished to be. Only here, could she make her break. A sick kind of revenge against the time she spends being someone she hates.

"So patient. Did you find that hard?" Ona does not place the riding crop on the bed, instead holding it in her hand. She thinks more about posture, tone, and slowly but surely, the word begins to shrink to just the girl at her feet.

Lucy nods timidly. God, her silence, the melting of her confidence, made Ona so wet. It's like she doesn't want to be this pliant, but she just can't help herself. She'd tamed brats, wrangled feisty characters into submission, but never come face to face with something so sincere.

"Why's that?" Ona's sympathy sounds only half fake. Perhaps more than half.

"I...felt really...watched."

"Intimidated?" Ona smirks.

Lucy purses her lips, air staggering as she breathes shallowly. Ona continues without question.

"No touching unless I say so. Sí?"

"Sí."

"Ah. ¿Sabes hablar español?"

"Un poco." Lucy grins bashfully.

"Muy impresionante. Lo tendré en cuenta." Ona teases, giving her a small pat on the head.

She takes a step back, lifting her shirt up and off. "¿Manos?"

Lucy offers her hands, and Ona guides them up to the waistband of her jeans. "Would you like to?"

"Please." Lucy whispers, leaning her head forward, fingertips reaching for the denim. Ona gives her a small nod, and Lucy carefully unbuttons them, taking down the zip, and then hooking her fingertips around the fabric at her hips.

Lucy takes them down delicately, making sure Ona's underwear doesn't get caught with them. She almost looks disappointed for a moment when the meticulous part is over, and she's letting them fall, but not so disappointed when her eyes catch the red panties in front of her.

"Fuck, Ona," she leans forward and places a soft kiss on her lower thigh. Buzzing with passion, and a need that heats Ona's blood. She often felt desired, but never this wanted.

The riding crop touches Lucy's face, nudging it back. Then Ona lands a gentle hit on the side of Lucy's cheek. A jolt, breath pulled in.

"I said no touching." A hand on Lucy's hair tugs it sharply back, her neck craning, eyes wide with a sudden fear. A fear she may have never felt before. A fear that contends the trust, reshapes it, challenges it.

"You want to get your mouth on me?" Ona keeps her expression firm, eyes dark and unyielding in a way they simply couldn't be outside of the bedroom. Once described as deer becoming fox. Sensitive into predatory.

Ona doesn't miss the shift in Lucy. Feels it, maybe before she does. Not something Ona can read, not just yet.

"Undress." Ona mutters, as if an afterthought.

Lucy pulls her shirt off in a quick motion after a beat of hesitation, and Ona perches on the edge of the bed to lean over and caress Lucy's muscles.

But instead of her exhaling a wanton breath, Ona finds herself struck by a sudden concern that stops her hand. "What's wrong?"

Lucy glances up, almost unnerved by Ona's changed disposition. "Nothing?"

"We're going to pause." Ona immediately sinks to her knees in front of Lucy. Eye to eye. "Tell me what you're feeling."

Lucy panics. Suddenly. Visible on her face, in the small movements of her fingers—glancing around for escape, or perhaps the answer to Ona's question. Which did not yet exist within herself.

"I don't...know..." She tries hard, speaking to the ground. Ona eases, reaching a hand to the back of Lucy's neck and thumbing it softly.

"I don't think I'm doing it right." She admits finally, lips hanging open after, rattled by her own doubt. Trying to smile, to take it lightly, but feeling ashamed.

"Did you not like what I did?" Ona asks with genuine ambivalence, unaffected by whatever her answer may be.

"No. No really I- I liked it. It was perfect. I just...I'm not used to being here."

The disappointment in Lucy's voice and expression makes Ona profoundly sad.

"I don't know how to respond to what you do. I felt like I was there for a moment and then it just...went." Lucy stiffens as she speaks, a finger quietly curling in to pick at her cuticle. Ona shifts herself to sit with her back against the bedframe, separating her legs, opening her arms out. "Come." She encourages softly.

Lucy reluctantly crawls into her arms, and Ona coaxes her into a comforting hold. "How could you tell what I was feeling?" Lucy chuckles nervously as she pulls herself in, the thump of her heart sounding against Ona's ribs.

"Your shoulders. Tense." Ona rubs them for effect, and Lucy slumps down. "Maybe you need something more...active. At first."

"I'm sorry," Lucy murmurs absently.

"No. No sorrys."

Lucy gives a meek nod, burying her face into Ona's chest, bringing her knees inwards.

"I know. You're okay." Ona whispers, stroking her hair and giving her temple a few kisses. "I've got you." she begins to whisper.

Ona pauses. Perhaps Lucy just needed a different approach, momentarily at least. "I know you want to be a good girl. You are. You're a very good girl. You have a big heart, you're so intelligent...you just need to relax, and trust yourself."

Lucy snuggles into her lap, but the height difference doesn't make it the easiest. "Settle. Take a few deep breaths, bebé."

But behind Ona's soft eyes were the voices that told her she had fucked up. She even felt a bit...embarrassed. It sets cold and heavy in her gut. She could never sustain being around Lucy if it meant feeling so far from herself. So conscious, yet so...out of control. It's not a foreign feeling though, rather, it feels like Lucy returns her to something. Something of her past, a part of herself that she locked away. Which is equally as scary as the unknown.

But right now, she was still in control. She still had time. She was still needed.

Lucy takes the deep breaths. She keeps her face tucked away, and Ona finds it endearing that she is comfortable enough for Lucy to find a place against her. Many people have seen and touched her skin, but even she can admit, this was a rare kind of closeness.

"Mhm, doing so good..." she follows, pressing her cheek against Lucy's scalp.

"Just be patient. You'll find it. You'll get there."

It takes a few minutes. But Lucy lifts her face and it shows a subtle, newfound comfort. "I'm surprised I liked that so much." She mutters, mellow but content.

The smile dumbfounds Ona. "Why?"

Lucy blinks. "'Cause I don't...usually enjoy someone speaking to me like that."

"But you did?"

She lowers her face shyly. "I did."

Ona's grin returns in full force. She brushes a stray lock behind Lucy's ear, expression relaxing.

"Would you like to continue? Or we can stop it there."

Lucy looks at her rather blankly, but no, her eyes are drifting down.

"I want to keep going. I want you to use one of the..." She kneels up to look at the implements on the bed.

"You want me to use some impact?"

"Mhm."

"Are you sure?" Ona raises her brows, mildly concerned at how hastily Lucy's nature had changed.

"I am. I know myself well enough to be sure." Lucy charms her. For better or for worse. So Ona grants it, despite her initial reluctance.

The energy shifts grandly. Not perfectly, not without etchings of hesitation in movements or words, but humanly. Comfortably.

Minutes later, Ona has Lucy bent over the edge of the mattress, a pillow beneath her head. She was quite willing to let Ona tug down her grey sweatpants, which of course ruined Ona just a bit more. Lucy had an ass, presented well by her Calvin Klein thong. Her body in general was quite unreal, by far the fittest counterpart Ona had ever played with. If Lucy decided to use that strength against her, well, she simply couldn't contend, but maybe she'd be okay with that. Eventually.

What Lucy doesn't expect is for Ona to drape her body atop hers, a hand coming down to grasp her jaw. Tense, but for all the right reasons.

"You are so obedient." Ona purrs, hips pressing subtly into Lucy's ass, surprisingly herself with how much she adores the position. Often it's role-play over realised feelings, but today, she doesn't feel so strange in the way she acts. There's more truth to it, more attraction.

For Lucy, the word is a spike—shooting into her throat, reigniting the flame that had gone to embers for just a moment. It seems she also can't handle the heat of the position, or how badly she needs this.

"Be hard." Lucy's husky growl finds a confidence that surprises Ona, though it certainly shouldn't—given Lucy's character. Ona takes the challenging edge with both claws, her own heart picking up with adrenaline.

"You think you can handle it?" Ona knows how far she would go in a first session, but she could tease all she wished. "What if I make you cry? Would you like it?" She feels the curve of Lucy's chin with splayed fingers, letting them wander idly across her jaw. Learning like Braille, taking like an artist from their muse.

"Who's the one who said I can handle pain?"

"Smartass." Ona scoffs beneath her breath, not missing the way Lucy's eyes fix on her tensed, tattooed forearm.

Lucy could launch her back in a single movement. Ona was strong, but not that strong. She begins to smirk, getting heady before she even asks the question. "Can I touch you baby? Feel how ready you are for me?" Her voice is deceitfully soft, proceeding to slip her fingers into Lucy's mouth to muffle her response.

Lucy nips her fingers defiantly, lowering her cheek to the bed while Ona's free hand skims down the side of her body, firm and determined. Taking, taking, taking.

Her fingers force their way into the gap between Lucy's hips and the mattress, then slide beneath the hem of her underwear, finding heat, and Lucy jerks from the sudden stimulation.

"Dios, Lucía." Ona whispers in genuine awe. Even she is certain she hasn't felt a girl this obscenely wet before.

Lucy's whole body tenses as Ona's fingertips stroke down towards her entrance, and slowly back up again. All experimental—kind in her caution, cruel in her precision. Lucy stifles a sound into her arm when her clit is circled, hiding her face in embarrassment.

Ona possesses a coy grin, entirely satisfied with her responses, but equally patient with the fact that Lucy is likely experiencing a plethora of contradicting thoughts and sensations. That was why she chose this positioning—Lucy didn't have to look at her, didn't have to do anything but be beneath her.

And her blood is a lit fuse—rushing through her veins and back to her heart when it reaches no end. She can't resist grinding into Lucy's ass harder, biting the inside of her own cheek at the needy rock into her hand. Her mouth falls to Lucy's neck, dropping a tender kiss there.

But it's only a few touches before her fingers are drawing out. Lucy doesn't look up, therefore missing the way Ona quietly, desperately, sucks the taste from her fingertips.

She smooths a hand over Lucy's hair to bring her back, eliciting a groan of frustration. "Pick two numbers lower than ten. En Español."

Lucy tilts her head towards Ona.

"Do it or I'll make it veinte."

"Ocho y...seis." Lucy smiles timidly, conscious of her accent.

"Catorce. Think you can handle?"

"Si. Mami."

Ona is stopped in her tracks. Slowly, her jaw drops into candid amusement. She is smiling, leaning down into Lucy's neck, huffing a bout of laughter in a way she can't quite contain. Lucy turns her face into the pillow with shame, but her cheeks lift, exposing the grin that overcomes her.

"Mami, hm?" Ona teases earnestly, addicted to the feeling of Lucy's skin on her face.

"Oh stop." Lucy tries so hard not to shrink away. Ona just grins, nuzzling into the back of Lucy's neck, grazing her teeth over the collar.

"It's okay. I like it." She whispers, before tugging on the leather impulsively. "Call me that again and it will be hard to resist letting that needy mouth on my pussy, I think."

Ona attains unreasonable satisfaction from the way Lucy reacts so viscerally, her body twitching and hands clutching the sheets harder.

Lest she lose momentum, she raises up, taking the paddle that Lucy selected. Firm blue rubber, a reasonable first choice.

Ona hits her once without warning.

Not too hard, not too gentle either, on the lower swell of her ass. Lucy buckles forward with a muffled squeak, though the mattress provides more than enough support for her to not even need her legs.

Ona just smirks proudly, leaning over to tug Lucy's hair—weakened strength causing her head to jolt back. Ona's free hand gently massages the spot she'd hit. "I want to hear you. Don't hide. Colour?"

Lucy stumbles through her words. Taking apart such a confident, well-mannered older girl was something straight out of Ona's fantasies. "Fu- Green."

"Ready for more?" Ona gives her a moment to recover, persisting with the massage, and after a small nod, lands the paddle again. Lucy hardly twitches this time, almost too relaxed, not needing Ona to hold her up.

Ona spanks the reddening skin with her own hand, and that makes Lucy choke on her breath. That sound is sharp, shattering, and even Ona has to rub her palm on Lucy's skin to soften the sting.

"Do you like this?" Ona switches hands, angling the paddle right, before bringing it down.

From behind gritted teeth are effortlessly pulled groans, breaking with every hit. Breath escapes. "I do." Ona could always tell when someone found the pain good, versus when it was merely tolerated.

"You a painslut like I think you are?" She hits her again. Harder.

"Tell me." Ona has to prompt, deciding to spank Lucy once on that asscheek too. Lucy remains speechless, breath staggering, clutching the duvet balled in her hand, but not because of the pain. Because she really, really likes this. So much so that she has no words.

By ten, Lucy's reactions are quick, and so close to being moans. Her skin is starkly red. Ona pauses briefly to massage it gently.

"What colour?"

"Green." Lucy replies without hesitation.

"Are you sure you're not close to your limit?"

Lucy shakes her head.

Ona hits her higher on her ass, underwear protecting just a bit of her skin.

When she finally delivers the fourteenth hit, Ona drops the paddle as a cue to Lucy that it's over. She doesn't drape herself over her body this time, instead leaning over the bed next to Lucy, faces mere inches apart.

"You did good. How are you feeling?" She asks, leaning to give Lucy's cheek a quick kiss. Ona's hand goes to the back of her neck, feeling for tension, down to her shoulders and back muscles. Beneath her fingers comes the most willing submission of all; Lucy's full acceptance of her touch as comfort.

"I liked it." Lucy admits after a long pause, finally tilting her flushed face to look at Ona, spaced-out but content. Fond, even, in the way her eyes glimmer in the dim light. Wide and willing jade meeting the earnest depth of Ona's.

"Yes? How did it make you feel?" Ona softens her massage to instead graze her fingertips through Lucy's hairline. She watches her eyes close, brows soften.

"Good," Lucy murmurs. Ona waits for an elaboration that doesn't come.

"It's a good feeling, hm?" Ona says softly, and Lucy nods.

She shuffles closer, until her forehead is against Lucy's. She feels overcome with strange, raw emotion.

"I want to do something for you." Lucy says, reaching a hand behind Ona's head to guide it closer, breaths mingling, voices hushed for only one another.

"Like what?" Ona nudges her nose sweetly.

"Something to make you feel good. If you want that."

Ona's grin spreads. "Of course I want that. Sweet thing." Her fingers slip beneath the collar, feeling it and tugging softly so their lips faintly clash. "What do you want to do to me?" She asks in a sultry whisper.

"Get you on my tongue."

Ona could have keeled over from the spike of pleasure in her gut. Instead she pecks a kiss, before standing up and flipping Lucy around, but urging her to stay sitting on the bed.

"You think you're good at it, don't you?" Ona stands between her legs, and Lucy boldly grabs her ass. Pulling her even closer. Ona falters, momentarily.

"So I've been told," Lucy smirks.

"I'm not your other girls. My standards are very high." Ona lets Lucy's legs trap her in, head tilting down to meet her.

"From who?" Lucy asks without thinking twice.

Ona pauses, pursing her lips contemplatively.

"Myself." She decides, adding seductively, "I'm good at making myself come."

"Did it last night. Thinking about you." She nips at Lucy's ear. The confession felt cheekier for the fact it was entirely true.

"T-tell me about it." Lucy stammers, mindlessly rolling her hips, the idea evidently driving her crazy.

"Another time." Ona takes a step back, breathing and letting the flush settle from her face.

Lucy stands up, closing in the space and pulling Ona in for a kiss that is accepted at first. Slower, passionate, but Ona hates tilting her head up and Lucy's hands are far too promiscuous.

"No." Ona pulls away with a tug on Lucy's lips.

"On your knees." She elicits. Indecision crosses Lucy, the slow shattering of a long-standing resolve. She doesn't oblige at first, so Ona continues, firm and almost bitter, "Or can you not be trusted?"

"I can." Lucy huffs, sinking to her knees, gaze locked on Ona above. Ona tugs her neck forward by the ring on her collar.

"You're lucky to get to do this." She says bitingly, keeping her finger looped in. Lucy anticipates more, but Ona keeps those thoughts to herself. Sometimes saying nothing at all was more poetic, more tempting. She played the long game, would win every time.

"Go." She releases the collar, walking back until the back of her knees hit the mattress and she perches on the edge. Lucy crawls forward until she's at Ona's feet, uncharacteristically silent.

"What do you like?" Lucy questions finally, voice a lustful rasp. Ona caresses her face with tender, imperious fingers, letting a breath go now that Lucy is willing beneath her.

"I like it slow." She begins, her own breath suddenly becoming unsteady with nerves or anticipation—she isn't sure. Brown eyes soften, forehead too. "Tease me. Everywhere. Then...build it up, consistent. Lots of pressure, but only at the end. You know how to do it. I'll tell you if you're wrong."

Lucy swallows, leaning in. "God. I want to worship you." She groans against Ona's thigh, pressing her nose in and dropping a soft kiss. Her hands loop around her thighs to part them.

"Then worship me." Ona whispers. "But no hands at first."

Lucy chases the tease, finding Ona smiling tauntingly.

"Do it. Use your teeth. Hands on your knees."

Lucy glares petulantly as she leans in to take the lace that hugs Ona's hip between her teeth, giving it a firm, impatient tug. She repeats on the other side. It takes a few alternations until the waistband is lowered enough for Ona to use her own thumbs to push the underwear over her ass.

But a strange feeling comes over them both, a self-conscious tension. They say nothing, hardly even look at each other, but Lucy burns red, and Ona tries to panic her way back to confidence, fingers stuck in the movement that would reveal herself to Lucy once and for all.

"I'm nervous." Lucy admits first beneath her breath, half-smiling, looking ever so soft as she says it. Speaking for me? Ona thinks.

"Don't be."

"It's been a long time-"

"I don't care." Ona roots her fingertips at the crown of Lucy's head and guides her forward, liking the way she holds back a grin when being guided. Ona relaxes her thighs, letting the physical connection come naturally. "Good girl. So pretty." Ona strokes Lucy's burning face in a single brush, before her finger loops around the collar to tug her inwards a final time.

Lucy strengthens her neck from the command, beginning to languidly kiss each of Ona's warm inner thighs. Lucy's impatience is palpable, and Ona needs no further foreplay, but the act makes her sigh pleasantly nonetheless. It was instinctual for Lucy, but intentional nonetheless.

Lost in a slight haze, she misses the queue of Lucy boldly firming her tongue and pressing it into the already-soaked fabric, rubbing the tip against her and sending flames of pleasure through her body.

She had become good at denying her own body for long periods of time, but a dizzying heat sweeps over her as Lucy tongues her lightly, each movement leaving behind the heaviest of aches.

Lucy digs her nails into her own thigh, so desperate to grasp onto Ona and be surrounded by her that it almost hurts. Her mouth soaks Ona's underwear further, trailing open-mouthed kisses, toying with the fabric until she can't hold back anymore. Her teeth carefully pull the underwear free from against Ona's core, tugging it down hard. With some effort as it falls, Ona slips her leg out, letting it drop to the other ankle.

She swears in Catalan beneath her breath.

"You're perfect. And wet." Lucy whispers when she finally braves the look forward, an exposing feeling flushing through Ona. She grasps Lucy's chin firmly, forcing her to meet a stern gaze.

"For you, guarra." Ona's reddened cheeks lift with a sly grin. She reaches between her legs with the other hand, finding her confidence again, swiping two fingers up from her entrance to feel for herself, before wiping the slick crudely on Lucy's cheek, making her wince.

"Beautiful." She coos, admiring the way Lucy's eyes settle in that tell-tale way.

So she decides to keep going. Her two fingers trail into Lucy's mouth, pushing past her lips and following the guide of her tongue as they push further back.

The sight is obscenely hot. But one wrong breath and Lucy gags pathetically, forcing Ona's fingertips to quickly retreat. But she is determined as ever—grasping Ona's wrist and pulling them back into her mouth.

"Don't breathe when I'm at the back of your throat. Relax your tongue." Ona presses back in, this time arching her fingertips into Lucy's tongue, mimicking a fingering motion. She thrusts them softly, watching tears fill Lucy's eyes with the effort of not gagging. Until she does, and Ona pulls them out slowly, a string of saliva connecting her fingers to Lucy's lips.

She only smiles sympathetically as Lucy catches her breath, face lowered again with the shame of it.

"I'm having a hard time believing you're usually in control." Ona leans back again, hands braced on the bed by her hips, awaiting Lucy to resume her work. The comment makes Lucy scowl.

"Well believe it."

"Hard time. When you're so good and pliant like that. Letting me fuck your mouth. Now. Put it to good use."

Lucy flattens her tongue and drags it up Ona's cunt rough and hard, no reservations, making Ona gasp sharply, twitching from the intensity. Lucy flicks up against her clit, too much, and Ona chokes out a moan, pulling Lucy's hair. It feels incredible, she wants more, but wants Lucy's obedience first.

"Fucking- puta. Do it properly. I told you how. Slow." The snap makes even Ona have to pause for a breath, impassioned by it all, and admittedly riled by Lucy's sudden defiance and obvious teasing. She worries she went too far, especially when her sub looks stunned for a moment, guilt washing over her face. Words get trapped in Lucy's throat, before murmuring an apology.

"Don't even think about being cheeky. Won't get you what you want." Ona mutters, but her thighs tremble as she settles her weight back into the mattress as Lucy draws herself nearer.

Lucy is good at this. That Ona could have guessed, but the confirmation comes from how effortlessly her tongue now teases slowly between every fold, then around her clit, not quite against it. She doesn't hold herself back, pressing her mouth against Ona like she's been here many times before, not afraid to let her face get messy or to show just how much she adores this. But she begins with caution, a deliberate ease-in.

"Good, making me feel so good, Lucy..." Ona sighs, losing some of her control in favour of leaning further back, bucking softly against Lucy's eager tongue as her body demands more. Lucy hums in response, licking a stripe up the length of her heat a few times before flicking over her clit.

"A- Ah, si," Ona's ankles cross over Lucy's lower back, chest going splotchy with red from how overwhelmed she suddenly feels. Her stomach knots into heat, and it takes effort to breathe, to remember that she is meant to be commanding this. But her desire betrays her, pleading for Lucy and ripping any coherent thoughts out of her mind. It felt too good to deny, too real to regret.

Lucy keeps going, taking her clit in a gentle suck while her tongue toys firmly. "You taste amazing, mami. Thank you- for letting me do this." Lucy's ragged voice falls from a thoughtless place before lewdly smothering her with her mouth. Knowing Lucy was truly loving this only makes it better for Ona. She sucks again, moving languidly, two fingers rubbing up and down the areas her mouth can't stimulate.

"Oh my- god, you deserve it, sweet girl. That's it," Ona's breathing picks up, heavy and laboured with the effort of not breaking completely. "Inside," she huffs frantically as Lucy angles both fingers to press into her, a brief glance up for permission.

And Lucy could have keeled over from all of the praise, shifting just an inch so she can grind into her heel. She stifles a moan from the friction against her underwear, the pressure making her writhe.

Ona throws her head back with a choked full-body gasp when Lucy arches her finger deep inside, searching for a softer sensation on her fingertips, the one that will make Ona shake. Above her, the girl is unable to keep herself upright, the stretch of her cunt a perfect mix of aching and pleasurable.

Thankfully, she was so aroused that the stretch eased within moments. And Lucy was gentle, so careful with it that somewhere beneath the carnal lust, she feels an overwhelming tenderness towards her. One she doesn't quite enjoy, bordering on pain in her chest, so she closes her eyes once more. "No pares, Lucia. Harder." she whines, desperate and mindless, as Lucy tongues her clit with expert precision, harder, just as requested.

A deeper, internal pressure builds more intensely with every thrust of Lucy's fingers, flexing and dragging in rapid bursts that make Ona clutch the sheets madly. Her mind draws entirely blank, she can't even think of Lucy. Or herself. Just the heat, the hormones, something beyond her understanding.

"Yes, fuck Lucia, fucking me so good- I'm close. Gonna-" Ona's pitchy voice breaks into a moan as she quivers and tumbles quickly over the precipice of an intense orgasm. So intense, so hot, she usually likes to hold back but fuck. No no no. Not today.

Her world goes electric white as she breaks fully, spilling out onto Lucy's hand, release dripping down her sub's face and hand with each spike of sharp pleasure that makes her moan desperately between lost breaths. "Si, Sisisi-"

She has to chase the air into her lungs, greedily swallowed up by slowly softening pulses of orgasmic bliss. Still, longer than she can ever remember this lasting.

Oh god.

She straightens her back, panting. "Did I-"

Lucy seems to breathe for the first time in hours, her strong hand shaking and veins thrumming. "Holy fuck." She grasps senselessly onto the nearest material, which ends up being the end of the duvet, and pulls it closer to wipe her face. Her fingers draw out a little too quickly, making Ona wince.

Ona can't, shouldn't, verbalise the shame she feels for coming so intensely. She glances down at Lucy, and finds something far beyond submission in the look she eventually returns.

"Thank you," Lucy whispers reverently, her hands coming up to caress Ona's thighs.

"...You're incredible." Ona can't help but praise, exhaling a breathy laugh of utter disbelief. She begins to stroke Lucy's head. "Y-your fingers, bebé, where'd you learn that?" She leans down to kiss Lucy's forehead, holding her weight there for a moment.

"I don't know. But I'm glad it made you feel good."

Ona smiles down at her, almost sadly. Almost like she could cry if she smiled for long enough.

"Sorry for getting you messy."

Lucy grins as she meets Ona's gaze, tilting up to find her lips. "Don't tempt me with a good time."

Ona just chuckles, taking Lucy's hands while keeping their foreheads pressed together. For a brief second, it's silent. Only breathing, the sound of blunt fingertips in Lucy's scalp, invisible thoughts that drift into the void.

"Let me make you feel good. Your choice. I'll give you whatever you want." Ona says quietly, voice scratched, but feeling slightly more alive.

"I want to try something." Lucy says, green eyes timid but trusting in the way they look up from below.

"Yeah. Anything."

It's a staggered few moments where Ona is throwing herself on the bed, frantically adjusting the pillows so Lucy can straddle her and take her breath in a bruising, filthy kiss. All tongue, messy lips, breathy sounds. She actually quite likes Lucy's hands being free, because they're rough and demanding as they move from her face to her hair, to her shoulder to grope her breast. When they finally draw breath, Lucy reaches behind to push down her own underwear, which Ona finds obscenely attractive, before she's dragging Ona's hand down her body, towards where she needs her.

Lucy slumps forward with a gorgeous, heavy moan into the kiss when Ona begins to touch her. Firm strokes up and down her wet, swollen core. Ona flattens her fingers, letting Lucy practically hump her hand with how unbearably needy she has become. Ona couldn't possibly hold herself back from giving her what she needs.

"Let me ride your fingers. Need to be filled. By you. Ona." Lucy whines, her name resounding like a blessing, lips kissing a messy path down Ona's throat and ending with a bite above her collarbone. Ona, head spinning from the rush of how sexy Lucy is, obliges, a finger gliding down until she presses it past the tight ring of muscle. Lucy stiffens from the intrusion.

Ona brings a hand to her shoulder blades, bearing into them with a gentle thumb. "Relax. It'll feel good. Just give it a minute." She kisses Lucy slower, lips inundated with that pleasant, kissed-out numbness as she eases her finger in to stretch Lucy out just enough.

Lucy hides her face in Ona's neck, breathing slowly, shifting her hips so Ona has a better range of motion.

"Grind your clit. It will feel better." Ona murmurs after a second of adjusting, more sultry, flexing her wrist so the palm of her hand finds Lucy's clit. "There you go." She whispers when Lucy begins to rock her hips.

"Never done this before." Lucy croaks into her skin, nervous but thrilled, her hips stuttering with vague uncertainty of what feels best. It all feels best. Ona drops a tender kiss on her cheek.

"It's okay. Take your time." She thrusts her fingers slowly, focusing more on stimulating Lucy's wet clit with circles of her palm. Lucy digs her nails into freckled skin. "God, you're getting so wet for me. It feels so good, no? Do you want another or just one?"

"Another," Lucy says, trembling, doing the work of sinking back down into Ona's fingers when the second one slips in beside the first.

"Hm, you've never been on top? Taking it?" Ona speaks to the question that lingers from Lucy's comment. She half-smirks, prideful from the confirmation that she was at least one first for Lucy.

"Mhm." Lucy bites her lip when Ona drags along a rather sensitive spot, letting herself be consumed by pleasure in a way she rarely can. "Never even been- strapped. By someone else." She adds quietly, as if hoping Ona wouldn't hear.

"We can change that." Ona brings her other hand to the nape of her neck, knowing it must be a pleasant spot for Lucy.

"Hm. Don't know." Lucy starts to smile into her skin, quickly breaking down into a more pleasured expression when Ona joins her in finding a rhythm that fills her completely with each grind.

"I wanna strap you. Make you feel good. Your body's- so sexy." Lucy whimpers, making Ona chuckle softly, knees raising on either side of her.

"So eager to please." Ona fucks into her harder, making Lucy choke on her breath and arch her chest against Ona's. If she had the patience, she'd have her and Ona's bras off in a moment. But nothing could rip her away from the high she frantically chases. Ona only pushes her further. "You're close. So tight around me. Big girl like you getting fucked hard...I love it."

The words make Lucy short-circuit. All it takes is a few deliberate grinds of her clit and she's biting into Ona's shoulder with a piercing, sudden moan, cunt spasming around Ona's burning fingers as they relentlessly draw out every atom of pleasure. A release easily found, taking Lucy aback. She shudders with each hit, groaning with ecstasy, and when she closes her eyes tightly enough, her lashes are wet with tears.

It's only when the overstimulation kicks in for Lucy, and she can't handle the intensity, that she crumbles once and for all, collapsing onto Ona with her full muscular weight, a damp forehead pressed into Ona's shoulder. She whines quietly, not with pain or pleasure, but with overwhelm.

When Ona breathes for what feels like the first time all afternoon, something leaves with it. Predictably, collecting her thoughts proves difficult. It was far from the kinkiest sex she'd ever had, or even most intense. But no— it was intense. So intense. In all the right ways. Ways that can't be planned or manufactured.

Ona lets the armour fall, wound tense, but floaty with weakness at the same time. They both pant, the tight cling of arms feeling more like atoms that won't separate. A yearn to stick, to bond, to eventually suffocate.

She hardly notices how her fingers are stilled inside of Lucy, though with prompting she feels her aching wrist alerting her of such facts. It burns, but she would never not hold someone together after they broke down, just for her.

And words won't suffice. She threads her fingertips into Lucy's scalp, scraping gently as she takes her fingers out with utmost caution, slow enough that Lucy hardly feels it. She wipes her hand on the sheets before bringing it back up.

Once life finally breathes back into them both, Lucy lifts her face, green eyes misty, sun-kissed skin flushed with heat as she looks down at Ona nervously. She quickly glances away, so Ona's hand cups the back of her head and urges her to lie back down. To be comfortable. Lucy adjusts, stretching her legs, before settling down, nose pressed into the crook of Ona's neck.

Ona's stomach twinges with a sudden weight.

"Go to the bathroom before you get too comfy." She murmurs a minute later, nudging Lucy's face up with her nose.

Lucy groans.

"It's good practice." Ona mumbles, shifting her body to encourage Lucy to get up, but a hand stays firm on her shoulder.

"I know. This wasn't my first time." Lucy half-smiles, still shy, still processing. Ona pats her back appreciatively as she hauls herself up begrudgingly.

Really though, it's a breather they both need. Ona curls onto her side when the lock clicks in the bathroom, bringing her knees up, lowering her chin towards her clasped hands. She thought she needed respite, too hot and overwhelmed, but as soon as Lucy's gone, she feels empty. Scared, almost.

She touches her own feverish skin. Lucy's heat and sweat still cling to her stomach, her own sweat damp on her lower back.

She mentally drops, but it's not just guilt. She is inundated with passion, and it's not just lust.

It has been so long since someone's presence punched her in the gut as Lucy's did. So long, that she thought she'd forgotten how to feel it. That it would never come back. She'd killed it, the innocence, with foolish escapades and a kind of sexuality that she's far from proud of.

She blinks, toes curling. She hears the tap running.

Why did she like Lucy? Because Lucy was good. Probably always had been. Never second-guessed the gentle, unending way she loved.

Behind the closed door, Lucy is stopped by the sight of a lacy green bralette hanging on the towel rack, next to a couple of pairs of underwear. She purses her lips as she checks the size tag, and steps back. It could be Ona's, but it really, probably wasn't.

In the bedroom she pulls on her underwear, head lowered, grateful at first when Ona doesn't move from her position to watch what she's doing.

"You okay?" Lucy, of course, notices Ona's guarded disposition when she really looks.

Ona hums softly, nodding, forcing life into her face as she turns onto her back. Lucy looms above her, concern softening her eyes, maybe some shame, too.

"What about you? How are you feeling?" She returns the question, pushing the pillows up and sitting invitingly.

"Fine. Good." Lucy replies earnestly, largely returned to her usual self. For what Ona can tell, at least. "Sure you're okay?" She sounds with confidence, climbing over Ona's feet to crawl up beside her.

Ona nods. "Yeah. Of course." She drops her head against Lucy's shoulder for effect, breathing in the smell that keeps her up at night.

"I just know sometimes it can get a lot. Afterwards. You know, for you, from my experiences." Lucy says with sweet consideration. Her hand is cold from the tap, soothing on Ona's abdomen. Ona places a hand above hers, taking it.

"Trust me. I understand the feelings." Ona says.

"Okay." Lucy replies softly, kissing Ona's cheek, before pausing to find her confidence. "Can you lie on me?"

"Sure." Ona turns over onto Lucy with a faint smile, craning her neck up to give her a soft few kisses, welcomed by fingers that daintily hold her face, before her body drops back down. Letting herself be held, as wrong as it feels.

"Do you ever...get stuck...after sex. Because you feel like you lost your...dignity?" Ona questions in a tranquil moment of weakness.

Lucy furrows her brows, smiling faintly. "Sometimes I feel a little bit embarrassed. Like now. But not dignity. You shouldn't be ashamed."

Ona swallows, nodding once, as if understanding, but she really doesn't. Lucy however, is caught up in her own concerns. "Not that I didn't like it. I really did. Just...new." Lucy murmurs to reassure.

"Yeah? Anything in particular?" Ona brushes her thumb against Lucy's shoulder as she steadies her breathing.

"You," Lucy mumbles, still half in a daze. "I like you."

Ona just chuckles, the adrenaline slowly melting away, leaving only the bare-bones of her thoughts and feelings. She shrugs, hiding a grin. "...I can believe it."

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