#wolcyella

Not even a sliver of light was visible through the dark silk tied firmly around her head, even though moonlight should fill the room. All her other senses seemed determined to compensate for her sight. Her ears twitched as she tracked Cyella still kneeling above her, the soft groan of the mattress and rustle of the sheets so much more prominent with each movement.

“Are you certain you still want to do this?” Cyella asked.

D’alia nodded, once, biting her lip. “I am.”

“Do you trust me?”

It should’ve been a loaded question. Cyella had all the reasons against her, why she should not trust her, but it was all rooted in a tumultuous past that was no longer her present. She’d laid her heart bare of all her regrets and she’d stood by D’alia when she had all but no one left at her side. That was what mattered, in the end.

Perhaps they’d both been careening to this point ever since they first crossed paths. Kindred spirits were they, two guilt-ridden souls drawn together in search of purpose and solace in understanding. The secretive barmaid and the broken savior, keeper and bringer of the shadows, reunited once more in hopes of restoring the light to another world.

“Aye,” D’alia rasped, the simple word heavy in her throat.

The bed dipped as Cyella shifted again, and for the briefest moment, D’alia struggled to pinpoint her location. She squirmed with the anticipation of her touch, but only cool air ghosted her feverish skin. She was so exposed, so vulnerable like this, her heart racing while she waited.

She could only imagine the sight she made for her. Splayed across the sheets with her face half-lolled into the pillow, her sweat-dampened chest rose and fell with each rapid breath, and her rosy tail swished idly by her leg. Warmth spread up her neck, settling high in her freckled cheeks.

D’alia had asked this of her. A distraction, respite from all else still hounding her every thought from the far edges of the universe, desperate enough to plead for any semblance of relief. So much had been left unspoken when she’d departed for home, simmering with a fervent return from the moment that she’d met Cyella’s icy, piercing gaze across the Wandering Stairs again.

And well, circumstances were quite different now.

A calloused hand palmed her heavy breast, tentative at first as a gasp ripped from her throat, then as D’alia melted languidly back into the sheets, rolled a thumb over her pierced nipple until she emitted a keening whine. She tilted her head further into the pillows, exposing the juncture of her neck and shoulder to the slick lips and graze of teeth against her skin. But the searing touch was almost too much and yet not nearly enough.

“Cylva?” D’alia called.

“I’ve been waiting a long time to hear that name on another’s lips once more,” Cyella murmured into her neck, dragging her fingertips slowly down the valley of her chest. “I’m here. Do you wish to stop?”

“Nay, I just…”

“Tell me.”

“I just need you, Cylva. Your hands, your lips, I care not. Please.”

Lips brushed featherlight across hers, twisting in the ghost of a smirk. “You asked me to take care of you, love. I will.”

Large hands continued to roam the expanse of her body, traversing the plush curve of her hips, soft pudge of her belly, flushed dip of her collarbone, and each scar and mole of her skin. A warm trail of kisses followed in their wake, drifting lower, and lower still, heat pooling between her legs until she writhed with need.

Cyella nipped at her upper leg that tore another gasp from her before replacing that with a kiss, too. And then she gently parted her thighs, exposing her warmth to the chill of the room, and stilled, her breath teasing in soft yet hot puffs over her skin. D’alia grasped for her, meeting broad shoulders and surprising hard muscle more often hidden beneath her apron, bracing for what was to come.

After what seemed like an eternity, Cyella dragged a knuckle through short, coarse hair to her slick folds. A strangled noise that would surely embarrass her in the light of day escaped her with the fleeting touch. She ached for more, nearly reached a hand between her own legs to seek her own relief, but then a much longer finger than her own slipped inside of her, drawing a sharp hiss through her teeth.

“Relax, love,” Cyella demanded.

D’alia swallowed hard around another ragged breath, nodding into the darkness. The intense pressure gave way to a pleasurable tension by the time Cyella slowly, gently, eased in another, curling her fingers before giving a tentative thrust. With her other hand, she held down D’alia’s hip with a firm, almost bruising grip, and she was grateful for it as she pressed a kiss to her core, nearly bowing off the mattress if not for that.

She lost herself in Cyella then. How the fervent touch of her fingers and searing warmth of her tongue wrought every unabashed whine and more, please, there helplessly from her lips. How utterly debauched she must look, thick thighs spread wide and hands buried in Cyella’s hair.

Part of her desired to know if the other woman was as affected by the sight. Most of her wished to see for herself, if ruination passed through her gaze from between her legs, silvery tendrils between her own tanned fingers lit by the moon’s glow. She writhed even more at the thought.

Bells could have passed for all D’alia knew, or even cared, before she finally tipped over the edge with the soft cry of her name. But Cyella didn’t grant her reprieve. Rather than relenting, she hastened her pace as D’alia rode out the rush of her climax, drawing another shuddering whimper from her before bringing her to the brink once more.

Only then did D’alia finally move to undo the silk from her eyes. The dark room eased into view as it grew illuminated by the dim light through the balcony window. She let it slip to the floor with a flop of her muscled arm over the side of the bed, collapsing back against the pillows to catch her breath.

A huffed laugh escaped Cyella, drawing her attention with the noise. D’alia roved her olive-toned face, wet lips quirked in mild amusement, and hair mussed from her hands and thighs. Cyella crawled over her and cradled her cheeks in both hands, capturing her in an even slower, deeper kiss than before, then settled at her side with a few ilms between them.

D’alia rolled into her, hooking a leg over her thigh. “Shall I return the favor?”

“No, you should rest.” Cyella draped a long arm around her as her fingertips drifted over her tanned skin. “Your friend seemed eager to begin your journey home on the morrow.”

Letting her eyes flutter shut, D’alia leaned her head against her shoulder with a sigh. “Right. Home.”

Silence fell over them as they settled into the quiet darkness, but the words hung in the air like a specter haunting the space around them. D’alia did still have to leave yet again, and even if she had no one to return to this time. After all, was that not part of why she gave into this impulse?

“He was a damn fool for letting you go,” Cyella finally said, apparently seeing through her too easily.

D’alia reopened her mismatched eyes, finding the other woman watching her with an unreadable expression, and exhaled a shaky breath. “You could stay here tonight, if you wish.”

“Is that what you want?”

“I think I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

Almost as if she understood, Cyella leaned down to her, pressing her lips in a lingering kiss to her forehead. “Then I’ll stay.”