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Petrichor: First Raindrops ch11 - Tonelico x Castoria (Fate/Grand Order) [Smut]

Content Warnings (whole fic): Non-Con・Major Character Death

Side Pairing: Morgan x Castoria

Part 1 of the Petrichor (Time Loop) series

There's more than one way to prevent someone from becoming a threat - especially for a queen who's grown too indifferent to care about her methods. But what about her past self? A story in which Castoria meets Tonelico before the tragic fate befell Orkney, and joins the future savior on her pilgrimage - unaware Tonelico is the future queen Morgan.

Also posted on: AO3

Petrichor series: AO3

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11 - Respite

If it weren’t for most movements causing discomfort at the very least, Tonelico would roll her eyes. This oblivious fool… Artoria would know that mana is found in bodily fluids and can be transferred that way between two individuals if she’d read more books.

Too often did she find Artoria spaced out, or even asleep on top of a tome. Drooling on the precious pages. At least the sight was cute.

“It’s not what you think. Nngh—” Tonelico groans lowly at the pain she feels when she readjusts her position. “You can have some of my mana that way.”

“Really?” Artoria’s face lights up at this easy fix. “Right! Your spit contains mana, so if I… drink it…”

As the realization sinks in, Artoria’s face flushes. Kissing is one thing. Still embarrassing, but something she’s growing comfortable with. But actively drinking another’s saliva? That’s… too lewd. No way Artoria would do that!

… but is there a choice?

Artoria tells herself it’s for Tonelico’s sake. Only so they can get back to the lakeside faster, and rest properly. That’s all. She’s not at all curious about this. Having made her decision quicker than she’d like — a total 180 from her initial reaction — Artoria clears her throat.

“Well, that— that sounds like the most sensible solution. So, if I may…”

Artoria leans in to brush her lips over Tonelico’s. She’s trembling. Nervosity, anticipation, or a mix of the two takes hold of her; but Artoria manages to push them aside.

The little spark generated by the brief touch of their lips provides easily enough motivation for Artoria to keep going.

She tries to ignore that sensation in an attempt to convince herself that this isn’t an intimate gesture for the sake of it, but merely something done for practical reasons. As though believing that would make it easier to pull through.

Artoria shuts her eyes tightly; the last thing she wants to see while she does this is Tonelico’s eyes, in which she can imagine the amusement. The familiar glint saying ‘You’re way too cute’ all too clearly.

‘It’s for Tonelico… Just for Tonelico…’

When Tonelico parts her lips, Artoria’s tongue reluctantly enters her mouth. Artoria cups Tonelico’s face to steady herself — emotionally more than physically — as her tongue tentatively explores Tonelico’s mouth. Rubbing her tongue over Tonelico’s, Artoria finds herself surprised at how rough a texture a tongue turns out to have.

Even more surprisingly, the contact feels awfully good.

Each brush of her tongue against Tonelico’s sends a warm shiver down Artoria’s spine, delicately and slowly. A faint tingle, barely noticeable, appears to spread throughout her body, encompassing every single nerve ending, whenever this pleasant shiver makes its way downwards.

It becomes addictive quickly.

Artoria feels her entire being grow warmer by the second; like the comfort of a campfire that risks turning into an all-consuming blaze if careless.

These embers, fueled by each almost-leak of Tonelico’s voice that catches in Artoria’s throat, flush any second guesses out of her mind, along with other thoughts she may have been able to form if not for the feeling of butterflies fluttering in her stomach.

Until Tonelico’s tug at her sleeve reminds Artoria why she’s doing this. Her face grows steaming hot at the realization of how quickly she’s lost herself to those pleasurable sensations and forgotten the important part. The whole reason they’re doing this.

More composed — and ashamed — than before, Artoria now focuses on recharging her mana rather than on Tonelico’s addictive being.

Any bit of saliva Artoria finds in Tonelico’s mouth, she laps up. The subtle taste of iron doesn’t go unnoticed. It reminds Artoria of the blood Tonelico has coughed up. As if to soothe wounds that aren’t found here, Artoria tenderly runs her tongue over every centimeter in Tonelico’s mouth.

She’ll clean up all the blood and its remainders from the inside of Tonelico’s mouth.

It doesn’t take much for Artoria to feel her mana levels rise, once she pays attention to it. With how much Tonelico appears to have to spare — thanks to the bells she’s rung — this method is more than efficient, despite the concurrent distraction of building arousal.

An all too delicious drawback to the practicality.

Artoria’s hand finds its way back to Tonelico’s side, casting a healing spell sustained by the mana she drains directly from the spell’s target. It takes an incredible amount of concentration to simultaneously heal injuries as severe as those Tonelico suffered from the battle against the calamity while recharging in this manner. But Artoria manages.

Some flicks of her tongue against Tonelico’s seem to work like a charm; making Tonelico involuntarily salivate. More fuel for Artoria.

Artoria soon finds a rhythm that comes to her easily, leaving her in a trance as she occasionally sucks on Tonelico’s tongue, continuously lapping up the mana-filled liquid that’s long since lost the taste of iron. Cleansed by Artoria’s meticulous efforts; not that they are entirely altruistic.

Eventually, after a moment in which time has lost all meaning, Artoria pulls away. Her breath is hot and labored, and so is Tonelico’s, whose cheeks have taken on a rosy-red color.

Half-closed eyes with the faintest hint of a tear at the corner, the crystal blue pupils focused intently on Artoria, yet not fully present in the current moment. Lost in the all-consuming distraction of primal desire.

The mere sight gives Artoria the urge to crash her lips down against Tonelico’s once more — to ravage her right here, right now.

Thankfully, a moment of clarity allows her to reconsider. Artoria clears her throat before losing herself to primal instincts she hasn’t even been fully aware she possesses. Especially not to this degree. She’ll blame this corruption of herself on Morgan.

“Thanks.” Tonelico’s voice is raspy. She clears her throat, allowing her mind to find its way back to their present situation.

“Sure. Anytime.”

‘Stupid… Idiot… Why did I say that!?’

“We should get moving.”

Artoria helps Tonelico up, despite her own legs being a bit wobbly by now. It takes a few steps, the clear air of the forest, and a moment of silence penetrated only by the soft rustling of leaves on their way, to recover mentally and allow the strength to come back to their limbs fully.

Not that the stoked embers inside of the two fairies would cool down any soon, though. Merely smolder, waiting for the next spark to reignite the fire.

Once the lakeside comes into view, Tonelico and Artoria relax. This is their safe haven — for now — where other fairies wouldn’t find them. Not with Tonelico casting a barrier around the area, making sure to keep every living being outside and grant the two a much needed and well-deserved breather.

Tonelico looks at Artoria, only to avert her gaze quickly once she recounts the all too passionate kiss they’ve shared mere moments ago at the sight of Artoria’s lips, smudged blood clinging to them. She feels as though she can still taste them on hers.

It was a surprise to see Artoria so forward, so lost in whatever came over her — but a very welcome one. Stirring feelings in Tonelico that make her wish to see more of this side of Artoria that she’s never noticed. While she still has the chance.

Though with how Artoria very intently avoids meeting Tonelico’s eyes, fiddling around with her hair, this assertiveness is gone by now. Perhaps it requires the right push. Back in Orkney, in the bath, it was similar, after all.

But that’s nothing to dwell on right now. That’s a matter for later.

“These really need to be cleaned,” Tonelico says to herself after a quick look at her clothes.

It doesn’t take much of an assessment for that conclusion. Dried blood seeped into the white fabric, dyeing it dark red in multiple places. A grim reminder of injuries sustained, of a battle that may have gone awry with fatal consequences had things gone differently. Had Artoria not stepped in.

“Same here.”

Not as sullied by blood — mostly Tonelico’s — but Artoria’s clothes are in a similar state. With that and the accumulated sweat of travel, the lake provides too convenient an opportunity for washing their clothes to pass it up. It doesn’t require any further consideration.

Tonelico removes her garments, one by one. The glances Artoria tries to steal aren’t as sneaky as she hopes. It brings a smile to Tonelico’s face.

Artoria is plain adorable, trying to hide what Fairy Eyes would see through easily. Not that Tonelico blames her. Wanting to look at the body of the one you love is only natural, after all. Wishing to touch it even more so.

“What are you waiting for?”

The amused smile carries into Tonelico’s voice, a light chime that reaches Artoria’s ears. Her face flushes upon being clearly caught in the act of ogling the undressing Tonelico. If only Tonelico were less observant, or at the very least didn’t let the endearment show. It’s absolutely on purpose, Artoria is sure of that. Only to fluster her further.

“N-nothing.”

Artoria follows suit and undresses, almost tripping over her own feet when she removes the black leggings. Together with Tonelico, Artoria places the garments into the lake. Instinctively, Artoria covers her chest with her arm, the other shielding her privates from view. Not that anyone but herself or Tonelico is here, so she knows it shouldn’t bother her, but…

‘How can she be so calm and unabashed? Must be nice, having such a body…’

That sulky pout isn’t new. Tonelico can tell what goes through her silly companion’s head, but she won’t comment on the envy sparked by the apparent inferiority complex. Instead, she takes her staff and casts a spell that would use the lake’s water to thoroughly clean the fabric of all that should not be there — blood, dirt, and sweat, among other particles.

While Tonelico uses magecraft to wash their clothes, Artoria retrieves a blanket from their shared frugal luggage and sits down on it near the shore, hugging her legs to her chest. There’s nothing for her to do after all.

It’s not that she’d prefer to keep Tonelico in her view, or so Artoria tells herself.

“Don’t you think you abuse your magecraft sometimes?”

‘Must be nice being able to do everything with a quick spell instead of by hand.’

Tonelico chuckles.

“I’m a witch after all. Isn’t that to be expected?”

Artoria rolls her eyes. She has no words for this fairy sometimes.

“Hm? What’s this?”

From a pocket in Artoria’s dress, Tonelico pulls out an object she hadn’t expected to ever see again: her glasses. The lenses are smudged, but otherwise they’re in perfect condition. Tonelico holds the glasses in her hand.

The nostalgia of familiarity washes over her; for a moment she feels as though she’s back in Orkney. When her life knew less pain and her days were spent in her study, more recently most of them with Artoria.

“… you kept them?”

“Ah… Yeah.” Artoria pulls her knees close. “You threw them away, but I— I couldn’t leave them behind like that.”

“Why?” Tonelico’s thumb brushes over the cold, flat surface of the lens.

“They’re a part of you. Of the old you.” Artoria nervously chews on her lip. “I thought— Well, when you threw them away, I was afraid that you’d be gone. You were different after… after that happened.”

“I see.”

With a swing of her staff, Tonelico materializes a magical string between the branches of two trees and swings it again to let the clothes find their way onto it to dry. It would be faster to dry them with a different spell instantly, but they aren’t short on time.

Rather, Tonelico wants to make the most of the time she has with Artoria while she can. This is better done without clothes.

“I missed the old you,” Artoria mutters.

Tonelico takes a cloth, soaks it in the lake’s clear water, and then warms it. When she joins Artoria on the blanket, she gently wipes off her own blood from Artoria’s lips and hands. A more proper bath can wait for later.

Artoria returns the gesture, careful to not put too much pressure on places that might still be sore. With Tonelico’s magecraft, even using a lake to wash up isn’t accompanied by cold discomfort.

Once they’re cleaned up, the cloth is discarded to the side. Washing it can be done tomorrow, it’s not that important. Not as important as what Artoria said just a moment ago.

Tonelico retrieves a handkerchief from their small luggage and wipes the glasses properly clean, with no smudges that would impair her vision left, before she puts on her glasses again — for the first time in what feels like an eternity.

“You sure are careless, aren’t you?” Tonelico’s smile is warm and gentle as her crystal blue eyes look at Artoria’s emerald green through the lenses. “All those smudges. I’d see better without the glasses at that point.”

“I tried my best! How do you even get them so perfectly clean just like that? Must’ve been a spell, too.”

Artoria pouts. But the relief and happiness at seeing the Tonelico she originally fell in love with again, just the same as back then, makes her heart melt.

Tonelico is Tonelico, no matter what. But those round glasses simply make her even more Tonelico. A feeling that cannot make sense by logic, but Artoria’s heart understands this as irrefutable truth.

“It only takes practice.” Tonelico leans against Artoria, then rests her head on Artoria’s shoulder. “Although I really don’t need them anymore.”

“Isn’t it better to wear glasses if your eyesight is bad? Or did you correct them with some spell?”

“No, nothing like that. I’m only a little farsighted. It’s straining to look at very near things for long periods, so I needed glasses to read without a headache. That’s all.”

Artoria already knew that Tonelico’s eyesight isn’t that bad. But hearing it from Tonelico herself is a confirmation that stings. Tonelico doesn’t have to add that reading is a pleasure not granted to her anymore.

She hardly has the time to delve into books, and by the looks of Orkney’s castle on that fateful day, the entire library must’ve burned down to ashes anyway, so she has no books left to read either.

Artoria wishes that someday, Tonelico can lose herself in countless words written on pages once more. Truly be who she is, not what she needs to be.

“I see.”

Artoria leans her head on Tonelico’s. There is a faint breeze, though it doesn’t feel cold, even as exposed as the two of them sit there at the lake. A moment of true peace, tranquility. Shared quiet proximity between the two Fairies of Paradise who take in each other’s company.

Until the sun starts to set, and they realize they have yet to make camp.

Although neither wants to separate just yet, instead bask in the warmth of each other’s body heat for what could be an eternity, they know this shouldn’t be put off further.

With coordinated teamwork, they get their modest tent set, and a small campfire started within no time. The blanket finds its place on the ground inside the tent that shields them from the weather, and another blanket is added to disappear under for the night later.

“It took way too long to get this stuff,” Artoria laments with a sigh. The fact that they originally started the pilgrimage with nothing but the clothes they’ve worn at the time fills her with dread.

“I miss sleeping under the stars sometimes, though.”

“You can always just leave the tent to me. I wouldn’t complain about more space.”

Artoria sticks out her tongue, though it doesn’t take long for her to eat her words and regret the cocky suggestion.

“Wouldn’t you get lonely all alone at night?” Tonelico leans closer, until her breath tickles Artoria’s ear. “I, for one, can’t wait to hold you in my arms tonight, but if you’d prefer to sleep alone…”

“N-no, that’s— I mean—”

Artoria’s head is spinning at the insinuation. Clearly, clearly, Tonelico is implying something here. It doesn’t take more than this to stoke the embers from their earlier passionate kiss, starting the fire inside of Artoria’s core back up.

She can tell Tonelico feels the same.

“Now, what will it be?” Tonelico asks, standing at the tent’s entrance.

She knows the answer. Tonelico is acutely aware of Artoria’s eyes wandering over her naked form; the envy that usually flares up upon the sight having no chance against the desire that’s already burning Artoria up inside.

If seeing the one you love longing for your body is arousing, then Fairy Eyes can only amplify this effect.

Artoria’s mouth won’t cooperate, so she simply disappears into the tent and pulls Tonelico after her. Tonelico lands on top of the two blankets, surprised by the sudden action, and by Artoria on top of her, leaning down until their noses nearly touch.

“You don’t need to ask,” Artoria mutters. She’d never choose to sleep alone if having Tonelico with her is an option.

“I know.”

Tonelico smiles, before crossing the distance to meet Artoria’s lips in a sweet, gentle kiss. Her arms wrap around Artoria to hold her close.

The lack of clothes is convenient and appreciated; Tonelico loses no time before letting her hands roam over Artoria’s back. The smooth surface is almost hot to the touch, a clear indication of the fairy’s state. Not that Tonelico fares any better.

“It’s been too long,” Tonelico mutters against Artoria’s lips as she pulls away for a moment.

“Yeah…”

Way too long, in fact. So much time has passed since the downfall of Orkney, since the time they’ve gotten intimate with each other in the bath. Tonelico hadn’t asked for permission then, though Artoria didn’t mind.

Only by now does Artoria know why: She’s loved Tonelico ever since then.

At the time, the thought hadn’t even crossed her mind, but once it became clear over the course of the pilgrimage, all the pieces fell into place. A life without Tonelico feels utterly wrong. Empty.

Artoria wants Tonelico — all of her. A feeling akin to hunger wells up inside of Artoria, and she closes their distance once more.

In no time at all, Artoria grows uncharacteristically bold. As though there’s no room for thought, consideration, or patience in her mind; Artoria only follows the overwhelming intuitive feeling Tonelico stirs inside of her.

If there be shame and regret, that’s of no concern now.

This carelessly passionate desire is a flavor of pleasure Tonelico has yet to taste. She feels Artoria’s sharp canine drag across her lip, making her wonder how it would feel to be bitten.

The sweet pain mixing with the heat is what Tonelico can only imagine enhancing this encounter further.

If only because it would feel perfectly like Artoria to do so.

“Nnnh—”

Tonelico’s startled voice leaks out when the small canine comes dangerously close to breaking skin. The sudden reaction makes Artoria pause and pull away, glad to see no wound. She brushes her thumb over Tonelico’s bottom lip, assessing the invisible damage and expressing a gentle apology.

“Sorry,” Artoria mumbles. “Does it hurt?”

The tender worry with which Artoria gazes at her makes Tonelico’s heart swell; it feels as though it could choke her with guilt.

A feeling that threatens to overcome Tonelico any moment should she not try her hardest to swallow it whole; unable to fully erase it from existence. Artoria cares so much about her in the smallest ways, and here Tonelico lies, keeping secrets still.

Artoria deserves better. She, at the very least, deserves to know. There’s a limit to how much time you can buy.

At this moment, Tonelico makes up her mind. Tomorrow, she will tell Artoria everything. What it means to be a Fairy of Paradise, and what fate awaits them and Britain.

Ignorance may be bliss, and it would be so much easier not to share the harsh truth. But Tonelico doesn't want to lie to Artoria any longer. She’s promised to share her plans with Artoria once she’s certain.

This feeling of guilt shall no longer separate their hearts like a barrier that can only be shattered from one side, yet felt by both.

The determination alone allows this unwanted, regretful feeling to dissipate, if only for this moment. It would return should Tonelico go against her own decision, but she won’t.

There’s no way Tonelico would go back on her word. She will face this tomorrow, properly, as the Fairy of Paradise. As Artoria’s lover.

And for tonight, she will indulge herself; letting go of all things burdening her, sharing this special moment with Artoria. This time, truly, it would be the last chance.

It shall make up for all the encounters they will not have in the future, and for those they didn’t have in the past.

“I'm fine.” Tonelico caresses Artoria's cheek, who swallows. The soft, smooth skin feels hot to the touch. “Don't stop.”

‘Let me truly forget everything for just one night, please. Nothing but us should matter until sunrise.’

When Artoria still seems unsure still — her assertiveness is too fickle — Tonelico lowers her voice to a sensual whisper. She lazily runs a finger down Artoria's spine; leaving a tingle in its wake that's so much more potent than any shiver traveling the same path ever could be.

“I'm yours, Artoria. All yours.”

Something about this — Tonelico offering herself up, using this wanton voice, the genuineness of it all, maybe the combination of them all — flips a switch in Artoria.

Self-restraint goes from active to nonexistent in one second flat.

Artoria sees the desire in Tonelico’s glazed eyes, and feels her own overwhelming any remainder of rationality with ease. Whatever seemed to bother Tonelico just a moment ago is nothing but an afterthought now.

Artoria can’t be bothered to worry about that anymore either.

She dips down, sinking her teeth into the delicate spot where Tonelico’s shoulder meets her neck. A soft bite that communicates possession and desire, the willingness to consume whole, unabashedly so. If Tonelico is hers, then Artoria will claim her love all too willingly.

Tonelico bites back a whine, which only motivates Artoria to try harder. To make Tonelico unable to keep her reactions in check; to see this raw side she’d never show, too concerned about being this perfect Fairy of Paradise.

Artoria sucks on the sensitive skin; the salty taste mixes with the faintly sweet scent that's purely Tonelico, intoxicating Artoria further.

When she sees Tonelico covering her mouth with one hand, Artoria pouts. She grabs Tonelico’s hand and pins it down beside her head. Her gaze meets Tonelico’s head-on — no doubt or shame in her eyes. Not a shred of reluctance.

This is the Artoria whose mind is set; any debate is futile.

“Don't keep your voice down.”

Tonelico nods, filled with anticipation. She gasps when Artoria cups her breasts. Her hand twitches, instinctively almost reaching to cover her mouth again before reminding herself to follow Artoria’s whim.

Finally, for what must be the first time in her life, embracing the freedom to openly express herself with no regard for how it would reflect on the Fairy of Paradise. Allowed to be just Tonelico. Her hand clenches into a fist, as if to hold on to a sliver of rationality as the pleasure surges higher steadily.

“Hahh…”

A sigh of bliss escapes Tonelico between hot breaths. Artoria’s small hands are gentle, contrasting with the rough texture of the countless calluses. Feeling them is nice, sending a surge of heat straight to Tonelico’s core, and from there directly to her head, slowly turning her brain to mush.

Thoughts and the capacity to formulate them are gradually replaced by a pleasant warmth.

The way Artoria caresses the soft mounds carries a deep devotion she’d fail to express in words if she tried, and a simple, if somewhat amazed, enjoyment of feeling the soft breasts yield beneath her touch.

Every light squeeze is a foreign experience for Artoria, who’s less blessed in this regard but finds not a single care for such inferiority in this moment.

If anything, her blessing is Tonelico having these supple breasts, just for Artoria to love.

Like a magnetic pull, Artoria’s lips find their way to Tonelico’s breast. Tonelico tenses when Artoria’s breath faintly tickles her skin in between quick kisses. There’s not much time to build anticipation until Artoria lightly bites the nipple, already stiffened by the previous nearby attention.

“Aahh! S-so sudden— Nnmmh…”

Artoria’s lips curl into a smile as Tonelico’s voice reaches her ears, caught off-guard and clearly feeling good. Her teeth graze the sensitive flesh as she suckles on the hardened peak, drawing a long moan out of Tonelico, followed by careless leaks of that sexy voice mixing into the quickening breath.

Tonelico’s right hand moves to the back of Artoria’s head, keeping her in place to continue the stimulation Artoria isn’t planning to stop any soon. Her left hand tries to find purchase on Artoria’s back, unsuccessfully on the smooth skin.

Feeling Tonelico’s nails almost desperately cling to her spurs on Artoria further.

She lets her tongue flick over the tip in between suckling on it; the alternation and partial mix between the two sensations drives Tonelico crazy. Tonelico’s hand grips Artoria’s hair, pulling to signal the need for a break.

But Artoria isn’t deterred.

Contrary to what Tonelico’s overstimulated nervous system begs for, Artoria instead squeezes the neglected breast, rubbing the palm of her hand against the hardened nipple in the process.

“Hyaahh— Wait! Just a— a second, nnhh… Please!”

The desperate, overwhelmed whine is music to Artoria’s ears. Tonelico curses those damn calluses; their rough skin scrapes against her nipple when she least expects it, only to be met with a soft patch of skin where no callus lies the next moment.

Never before has Tonelico felt stimulation so intensely, much less when it comes to her breasts. Artoria’s hands are a force to be reckoned with, drawing a pitch out of Tonelico she hasn’t known she is capable of.

Artoria lets go of Tonelico’s nipple, not before giving it another playful lick. Tonelico shudders at the new sensation. The unexpected but much-needed respite leaves her breathing heavily.

An annoyingly persistent feeling of missing Artoria’s ministrations soon washes over her.

But it’s not as though Artoria is giving Tonelico a break. Slowly but sloppily, she kisses her way down over Tonelico’s stomach — each brushing of Artoria’s soft lips is like a butterfly’s flutter, matching those in Tonelico’s stomach.

She holds her breath in anticipation without noticing, involuntarily spreading her legs as a silent but clear invitation.

Artoria loses no time — her mouth finds Tonelico’s folds with ease, making Tonelico jump at the sudden contact. Forward as ever, though in this situation it’s a first for Artoria. It’s really been too long. Patience has no place here.

‘You’re wet.’

The observation brings a smile to Artoria’s lips, proving how right she’s doing this. But it’s not nearly enough; she needs more. Her tongue darts out to give a slow lick up the slick folds, lapping up the juices for a first proper taste.

A taste that Artoria quickly finds she won’t get enough of. Much better than the experimental little sample she got in the bath back in Orkney.

She grabs Tonelico’s hips to hold her in place before letting her tongue run across Tonelico’s sex. Exploring with great curiosity, taking note of which spots make Tonelico tense up, jump, or even leak out more of her sweet juices for Artoria to lap up.

Mapping out Tonelico’s petals with each stroke of her tongue.

“Hahhh… Mnnh~”

Both of Tonelico’s hands hold onto Artoria’s head, but Artoria pays it no mind. Tonelico may be feeling good already, but Artoria will make her feel even better.

Almost playfully, Artoria licks over Tonelico’s clit. A long, slow lick from bottom to top draws a whine out of Tonelico, and makes her arch her back, pushing her hips up to meet Artoria’s mouth in a desperate plea for more.

Quick flicks with the tip of her tongue from left to right, right to left, make Tonelico’s hips shiver, and her breath catches in her throat, before hot moans leak out of her mouth.

As much as Tonelico tries to gyrate her hips — seeking more friction than Artoria is providing to chase after the pleasure, or desperately trying to escape the stimulation for a break — Artoria’s grip holds her hips perfectly in place.

Defenseless against Artoria’s ministrations, who’s enjoying her buffet of desire at her own pace.

For another change, Artoria lets her tongue circle the hardened, throbbing nub with her tongue. Once, twice. Slowing her pace, increasing Tonelico’s thirst for more.

“Nnnh… Please, just—”

Until she sucks on Tonelico’s clit. The suction and Artoria’s warm mouth feel incredible enough, but Artoria additionally lets her tongue flick over the defenseless nub again. Her jaw is getting sore, but Artoria has no mind to pay such details.

Not when she has Tonelico practically melting for her.

“Hahhh! Wait! N-not there. Not like— not like this! Ahhhnn..!!”

Tonelico’s thighs are shaking. She’s so unbelievably close. Tonelico can feel the pressure in her lower abdomen, all her muscles starting to tense. Every bit of lava that seems to pool inside of her flows to that one point of contact, just waiting to erupt and spread through her entire being.

Her grip on Artoria’s hair tightens, and she pushes her closer against her crotch. This level of stimulation, feeling that sharp canine drag against her skin occasionally, is driving Tonelico crazy; her only chance of not fully losing her sanity is finally reaching the climax that will surely bring her to new heights.

“Hahh, please— Artoria, I’m—”

Luckily for Tonelico, Artoria isn’t in the mood for little games. With fervent ardor previously unknown even to herself, Artoria loses herself entirely in this act of consumption.

“Hyaaaahhhh…!!”

It only takes a few more flicks of her tongue, and Tonelico comes with a beautifully arched back; the hot pleasure pooled in her abdomen spreads through her body in warm, tingly waves.

She absentmindedly thrusts her hips towards Artoria to the best of her limited abilities — riding out this high as Artoria finally slows down.

Artoria pulls away and licks her lips, tasting Tonelico on them. She almost wants to dive back in once more, but when she finally meets Tonelico’s gaze again, the glazed blue eyes magically draw Artoria in. She moves back up to meet Tonelico’s lips in a passionate kiss.

Although initially surprised by the taste of herself on her lips, Tonelico quickly melts into the kiss. It prolongs this blissful, fuzzy feeling in her head, as the waves of warm tingles slowly abate. Nothing could compare to the bliss of this moment that shouldn’t end just yet.

Artoria jumps when Tonelico slightly raises her leg, pushing her thigh against Artoria’s neglected, sopping wet crotch.

“Someone’s got all hot and bothered.”

Even between hot, breathless gasps, Tonelico’s voice manages to carry this amusedly teasing tone. Artoria hates Tonelico for this, and how it always straight up sends butterflies to her stomach. Tonelico is plain unfair.

“Like you’re one to ta—aaahhnn!”

As if waiting for a retort, Tonelico shifts her leg for sweet friction at just the right moment to let Artoria interject her own rebuttal with a shameful moan. This voice is music to Tonelico’s ears; something she can’t get enough of. Artoria is too cute.

“Y-you’re cheati—nnngggh…”

Yet again, even unprompted, Artoria falls into this trap. Like in heat, Artoria can’t help but grind herself against Tonelico’s thigh. Now that Tonelico has started this, Artoria can’t help but chase her own pleasure.

“Quite eager, aren’t y—nnnhh… W-wait, that’s…!”

Two can play this game — so Artoria reaches her hand down between Tonelico’s legs to caress the slick folds with her fingers.

Not that she can manage accuracy, not while shamelessly riding Tonelico’s leg like this; but it seems to work well enough, if Tonelico’s quivers and whimpers are anything to go by.

Maybe if Tonelico hadn’t been such a bully, Artoria would’ve let her rest a bit more to recover from post-orgasm sensitivity. But apparently this isn’t a night for consideration, but one for unabashedly losing oneself in pleasing one’s lover.

Perfectly fine with Artoria.

The night is long; they have all the time to test the limits of their endurance, then go beyond.

Neither of them remembers how long they’d been going at it until they finally fell asleep, fully exhausted and perfectly content. Covered in sweat, zero distance between the two fairies. The blanket only haphazardly thrown over the two of them with half a mind to spare at best; not like either of them remembers who did so.

When Tonelico wakes up, Artoria’s soft breath tickles her nape. Artoria’s arms are wrapped around her waist, holding Tonelico tight. As though if there’s just any chance Tonelico could disappear, Artoria won’t let her go; not even in her sleep.

Tonelico’s heart swells at how much Artoria cherishes her, yet…

“Mmnh…?” Behind Tonelico, Artoria stirs. “C’mon, a few more minutes won’t hurt…”

Her speech is slurred. She’s never been a morning person, even if it’s probably much closer to noon, if not afternoon.

Tonelico fondly thinks back to every single morning they’ve shared. Maybe Tonelico hadn’t appreciated these simple moments enough, not until now. But regret isn’t something she can allow herself to feel at this moment.

“Tonelico?”

Artoria raises an eyebrow. Drowsiness doesn’t dull the unfair Fairy Eyes that will reliably see through any lie, through every wall one tries to build around the truth their heart cries out. There’s no hiding it anymore. Tonelico takes a deep breath.

“We need to talk.”

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