For @polyshipweek Day 2: Blorbo has two hands
Relationships: Dame Aylin/Shadowheart/Isobel Thorm
Warnings: Suggestive Themes
Word Count: 882
AO3 Link: Here!
Notes: Did I intend to write actual smut? Yes. Has it been so long that I scared myself off of the idea? Also yes. But goddammit I'm gonna try,,, eventually.
Isobelâs body pressed Aylinâs hips apart where she arched off the wall, fingers grasping needily at the Paladinâs broad shoulders as Aylin licked hungrily into her mouth. Aylinâs fingers squeezed against the clericâs thighs in her grasp, urging the roll of her hips against her own.Â
When Isobel closed her teeth around the muscle of Aylinâs tongue and sucked, the aasimar growled, pressing her closer to the wall, pulling back only when her darling gave her the gentlest of taps against her shoulder, releasing her devilish hold on her tongue. A string of saliva connected their mouths, and Aylin took pride in the way the cleric looked at her, blue eyes blown wide, kiss-swollen lips parted just for her-Â
The door to the room opened as Shadowheart slipped into their quarters, dropping her mace and shield beside the front door as she huffed a breath. âClowns, why did it have to be-â Noticing the two pairs of eyes watching her, âOh, hello. Am I interrupting something?â There was a teasing smile on her face as her arms crossed over her chest, smearing the blots of viscera that still clung to her armor.Â
âMmm, not interrupting, never interrupting,â Isobel promised, taking Aylinâs distraction in her bloodlust to find the sliver of skin where her throat met her jaw. A hot tongue laved at the skin, following the river of molten gold, teeth brushing against the skin enough to make her proud paladin falter.Â
Her attention turned back to Isobel, though she could hear the quiet sounds of Shadowheart removing her armor, could smell the musk of sweat and the stench of death where it wafted from the woman. âShe seems quite preoccupied, does she not?â Shadowheart came up behind Aylin, fingers finding the spot against her back, right between where her wings would rest, pressing into knotted muscle in a way that made her knees shake. Isobelâs chin lifted from the crook of her neck, though Aylin could not see the look the two clerics shared.
âWell, I do have two hands,â Dame Aylin boasted, practically beaming at Shadowheart, even as Isoeblâs lips and teeth attacked the column of her throat.
âI can think of a better use for you, and your hands.â Shadowheartâs hand trailed down Aylinâs left arm, coming to a rest at the inside of her wrist before dragging the pad of her finger along the smooth metallic feel of a golden scar, racing down the aasimarâs palm and ending in the cook between her ring and pointer finger.Â
The touch of magic was barely noticeable, easing the phantom pains that the demigod had learned to live with. Her hand relaxed against Isobelâs thighs, and when Shadowheart reached to hook a finger under her chin, guiding her towards their bed, she became malleable to both womenâs wishes.Â
Aylin was gentle, always so careful in setting Isobel against the pillows at the head of the bed, though the shove from Shadowheart that pressed her face into the pillows was nothing of the sort, Aylin still felt a warm laugh bubbling past her lips as the half-elf settled beside them, fingers trailing up the line of corded muscle along the aasimarâs bicep, biting back a remark about the pull of the muscles that kept her elevated above Isobel, even as the cleric of SelĂťne attempted to urge her lower.Â
âThis is getting out of hand,â Aylin complained with no real bite in her tone, allowing the persistent press of Shadowheartâs fingers into her arms and Isobelâs heels pressing into the small of her back to finally pull her down, body flush against Isobel, who, upon being pressed firmly into the mattress by the paladinâs weight, released a long, contented sigh.Â
âNow, I thought you said you have two hands for a reason,â Shadowheart interrupted, a sly smile on her face as she pressed close to the pair, laving her mouth and teeth over the juncture of an uneven scar fissure, causing the paladin to shiver.Â
âI believe we outmatch you, my love.â Isobel all but purred in her ear, taking immense satisfaction in the sight of sculpted muscles jumping at just the sound of her voice. âWe have four hands between us.âÂ
As if to enunciate her point, those blessed hands danced up her arms, briefly ghosting over Shadowheartâs cool touch before following the golden sutures to a point along her back, pressing into the muscles that held her wings. âDevil women.â Aylin shuddered, allowing the movements of both women to roll her to the side, instead leaving Isobelâs weight pressing comfortably into her abdomen, left to gape up as both clerics exchanged a knowing look between themselves, a communication that the Aasimar was not privy to.Â
The instinct to slide her hands along Isobelâs thighs came from something deeper than her DNA, trailing her fingers along soft thighs and urging her to sit just a little higher. Falling perfectly into the clericâs trap, Shadowheart used the new space to settle herself between Aylinâs legs, earning a faux sigh from the demigod. âI believe I need to start the search for more hands.âÂ
Isobel laughed a joyous sound to her ears, before leaning down to capture her lips. âWeâll be happy to lend ours to the cause⌠after weâve had our fill,â
