#create more

silk snags behind your dress as metal drags over your back, soft clinks when she pulls the ribbon tying over your shoulders.

the slip falls to your hips, clinging to the curves. sevikas attention is divided, admiration spilling over every little thing; nipples hardened from being pressed against her ribbed pleaser, spots and speckles from sun placed sparatic on near every inch of you, the red stripes blooming over your hip, then thigh as she claws away your slip.

you pull sevika lower to steal her lips, teeth grazing that failed to drown out sevikas soft grunts.

your palms drag up her arms, squeezing the flesh, tracing the metal. you fumble to hook the thick straps of her pleaser; her shoulders shift, breaking from your flushed lips to pull the tank off over her head.

“should i grab the—“ she interrupts you before you even look back at the dresser.

“no. i need to feel you.”

denim roughs the plush skin between your thighs, pressing tauntingly against the mound of your panties.

you huff, quick frustration at the near pressure she promises, hips chasing friction when she pulls.

your body stings faintly from the claws marks surrounding you as her hands curl behind your thighs.

“Up.”

she demands, you hop like it’s programmed in you.

she holds your legs on her hips and your arms hang around her neck as she walks you to the bed.

it’s only a few seconds, but it drags a dozen when you look down at her grey eyes, framed with creases of age, the arch of her lips, the glint of her teeth blinking when the bedside lamp hits them right.

she lays your upper down, keeping your hips elevated for a moment, plenty enough to peel the slick-saturated cotton off you. her long legs bring her upright to toss her boxers somewhere, then pushing herself back between yours.

her flesh shoulder hooks under your left thigh, hers over your right.

metal drags up, then down your side, dragging faintly through your pussy then spreading, slotting her own arousal perfectly against yours.

both hands pull to keep you tight against her, steel sinking into your side stomach, thumb dragging against your bush with each rut of her hips.

your eyes squeeze shut for a moment to feel everything, then her voice.

“you okay?”

you hear the curl of her lips; she knows you’re more than okay..

“mhmm” lashes flutter open, brows furl, sheets tugged between your fingers. you focus on harmonizing your hips with hers, cunts kissing perfectly, in time with each of sevikas groans and pants, brows curled in what anyone would think was anger if you didn’t know her.

“so good…you’re doing good, mama.” she mumbles but her voice is always sharp to your ears.

“a little more? please”

she slows down…you huff in frustration.

she laughs, short, dry, pulling away a few strokes to watch your shared slick stretch between your bushes.

though, she’s almost as impatient as you, so it’s hardly a minute before she gives you more, hard, medium paced strokes.

a near growl escapes her throat, hips stuttering- but only once.

her claw clenches, gears hissing and humming as the pressure pearls blood over your stretch marks, flooding over the gilded tips.

you feel the air of sex cool the barely hotter spots of red, stomach coiling tauntingly.

before she even thinks of denying your bliss, your hips already lock up, chasing or running away from hers- they can’t decide.

the sounds become wetter, lewd, followed by warm drips down your ass cheeks and into the comforter.

she comes apart in the midst of yours, rhythm disappearing while you share orgasms, moans echoing between our skin.

“fuck,” her prosthetic thrums, like it ached from how tight she held me.

she relaxed her hinges, fixing your legs to fix herself over you, tasting your flushed lips.

“hm,” she hums like it’s a conversation, you hum back like you agree.