Tolkien Femslash February

It all happens so fast.

Later you’ll thank the Valar, whichever one granted you the bit of foresight, the one who drew your instincts to their very edge, made you watch so carefully. You did not trust the dark stranger, the one who found his way to the hidden city, claiming the newly returned Aredhel as his wife.

She had been gone nearly 100 years, long years you spent worrying even though you knew she was a free spirit and longed for the forests and the woodlands of the world. You thought you might never see her again, and yet here she is, rushing back into the cradle of Gondolin with a son in tow.

And a husband, apparently.

It was pure chance, where you were standing, just far enough to the side you saw his hand move. You watched it carefully, tracking its path beneath his cloak. Eagle-eyed some called you, overcautious by others. Both perhaps were true that day, your feet moving as soon as you saw the staff of the javelin in his hand.

It happens in less than a minute, but time feels stretched, moving slowly.

Mundir was a second behind you, grabbing for the King, but your sight was on Eöl, the dark elf poised and ready to throw. You knew where his aim was, and you knew he would not miss.

You slam into him as the javelin leaves his hand, knocking it from its path. It strikes the stone wall to the right of his target, the stone cracking under the force. The two of you hit the ground hard, Eöl’s recovering faster than you do. His hands wrap around your throat, pinning you to the stones below you. His grip is tight, meant to kill. He might snap your neck with his strength, had the others not been as alert as you were.

He has enough time to squeeze, your breath catching in your chest painfully, your ears starting to ring. Hálben and Haston pull him from you, and you take in gasping breaths of air, coughing as you roll onto your side. You find the javelin with your eyes, laying on the stones before the wall, the tip broken. Your gaze looks further to the right, following the path the javelin would have taken had you not interfered.

Aredhel stands, arms outstretched before her son, protecting him from the hit that never came. Her eyes are wide, but her face is set. She would have taken that javelin for her son, even if it killed her.

Lainien eases you into a seated position as you cough, still breathing heavily. Your throat is sore. Even though his hands were only around it briefly, you can still feel the strength behind them as you catch your breath.

“That was madness.” She scolds you, patting your back.

“It saved a life from needlessly being taken.” You say, your voice hoarse. “Perhaps more than one.”

She helps you to your feet, your eyes finding Aredhel’s for just a moment before you follow the mass of guards carrying Eöl off to the cells.

****

You don’t expect the knock to come so late. You were sipping your tea in your small room, the herbs easing the ache in your throat. The bruises were faint, but still visible in the low light. A frown pulls at your brows as the knock sounds again, and you rise from your table to make for the door.

Dark grey eyes stare at you from the other side, her dark hair braided down her back. She wears silver and white, such as she always does, her dress clean and likely new. Her lips part in a breath, your name coming with it as she stares at you. Tears fill your eyes as you stare back. You’ve missed her, and today you nearly lost her for good.

You move first, pulling her into your arms, holding her tightly. Her grip is just as tight, clinging to you as if you might slip away. She smells clean, like the floral soap she favors. You’ve kept a bar yourself, pulling it out to smell it when you needed a reminder of her, her touch, her smell, the feel of her against you.

“I am sorry,” she breathes, trembling slightly in your arms.

“Don’t.” You say, interrupting her before she can speak again. “There is nothing to be sorry for.”

You pull her into your room, the door clicking closed behind you. She pulls back to look at you, her fingers lifting to trace the bruises on your neck. Her touch is soft, light, barely perceivable but you feel it. You feel every brush of her fingers against your skin. “Why did you do it?” She asks softly, her fingers trailing upwards to your jaw. “To risk your life so-”

“It is my duty.” You say, pressing her hand against your cheek. “I knew you would protect your son, and that javelin would have hit you.”

She leans her forehead against yours, her hands cupping your face. “I thought I would never see you again.”

“I was so worried.” You whisper, wrapping your arms around her like she might disappear forever. “When no word came, I thought…” your words drift off unsaid, but understanding passes between the two of you.

“I am here now.” She says softly, her nose brushing yours. “I will not leave you again.”

You sink your teeth into your lip, knowing she will likely grow restless again, and will want to venture out once more. “At least take me with you next time.”

She smiles, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to your lips. “Aye, I will make sure not to leave you behind.”

“Good.” You say, kissing her back. “Because I will follow you, even if I have to walk.”

Rían stood naked before her mirror, observing herself as she never had before.

I would ask your mother for your hand.

Huor’s warm voice echoed in her ears. She had laughed and told him to wait, that they were young yet, what need had they to rush? Yet his words had inspired in her a strange, unfamiliar feeling —a heat in her belly that remained even now, spiking as she turned her thoughts to marriage. More specifically, to marriage beds.

She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and let her hand linger there, fingers brushing against her neck. Then her hand traced lower, to cup her small breast.

She had heard rumours. Some pleasant, some less so. She frowned at herself. Merely holding her breast like this did nothing to abate the curious feeling nor the heat in her gut. Yet she knew men were fond of them — perhaps there was some charm she did not see.

Rían dropped her hand between her legs, brushing her fingers through the dark curls. Huor would be blond here, she imagined. Would he find her pleasing? What if she did not find him pleasing, for he was thoroughly pleasant in all other ways, and a man could not be perfect?

She shifted, spreading her legs a little wider, to dip her fingers —

“Cousin, what are you doing?”

Rían spun around, hands flying to cover herself.

“Morwen, I was just —”

Her cousin interrupted her with a laugh as she stepped into the room. They had been like sisters as children, but since Morwen had left to marry she had not seen her much. How delighted Rían had been to come and live with her. How much she was regretting it now, frozen in embarrassment.

It only got worse —stars above, it got so much worse, as her cousin’s handmaiden entered the room. As she shut the door, Rían’s gaze darted to her shift, discarded haphazardly on her bed. “If you just give me a moment, I can...”

“Please, cousin. We are all ladies here. It is nothing to be shy about.”

“Yes, lady Rían.” Aerin echoed, her smile too knowing for Rían’s liking. “And it is natural for young ladies to be curious.”

“Particularly if they have young men getting in their heads. Tell me, dear cousin, has Huor been forward with you?”

“I... he... how do you know?”

Morwen’s smile was devious. “He keeps nothing from his brother, and my husband keeps nothing from me.”

She was standing before Rían now, and gently cupped her cheek in her hand. Aerin moved to stand behind Rían. She felt her heart begin to pound in her chest; she felt rather like a deer in a hunter’s snare, and yet, she had no desire to flee.

“It is to be expected, given your age.” Morwen was saying, but Rían focused only on her lips, full and stained red. “I do not think your mother will have given you a thorough education.”

“I am not a child, cousin. I know how... how it works.”

Aerin spoke from behind her. Her voice was quieter, but warmer and richer than Morwen’s and Rían felt it as much as she heard it. “Aye, she told you how it works between man and wife. But did she tell you how it is between lovers?”

Rían’s brow furrowed. “It is the same, is it not?”

Morwen shook her head. Her hair had begun to come loose from her braid, dark curls framing her face.

“There is far more to it. Let us teach you.”

A pause, and Rían wavered. She should not. She should tell her to leave and never mention this again: it was meant to only be between a man and his wife, was it not? Surely her cousin could not be suggesting a... demonstration?

But she wanted it. She wanted desperately to alleviate the newly awakening desire in her. She wanted to know. She wanted to kiss her. Her brilliant, beautiful cousin.

So she did.

Morwen tasted of the bitter berry stain she wore on her lips, with a soft underlying sweetness. Rían kissed her, standing on her toes and grasping her sleeve. She felt her sudden laughter, and then before Rían knew it, Morwen was the master of the kiss, devouring her. Behind her, she felt Aerin’s strong arms come around her waist, but only for a moment, before she heard her moving the sheets behind her.

“Relax, dear cousin.” Morwen said quietly, as she parted from her at last. She took a step forward, pushing her back towards the bed. “We will give you your desire.”

Her knees hit the frame, and Rían fell back upon her bed. The covers and pillows had been pulled aside, and she realised she was laying atop the linen of her own nightgown instead of the bedsheet.

Aerin unlaced the back of Morwen’s gown. Transfixed, Rían watched as Morwen took her handmaiden by the arm and pulled her into a kiss, Aerin pushing the dress from her shoulders, swiftly followed by her linen shift.

Morwen had the fuller figure of the pair, tall as she was, hips and breasts rounded from motherhood. Suddenly, Rían understood many things she had not before — why men had always been so eager to do Morwen’s bidding. Rían felt her body light up in a rush of flame, burning from the inside out. She wanted to feel those elegant hands on her, to have that sharp gaze admire her.

Aerin was shorter, fair-haired, and broad shouldered as Huor’s people often were. Rían watched the flex of her muscles as she divested herself of her outer gown, leaving herself in a short sleeved underdress, and took Morwen in her arms again. For a moment she wondered if they had forgotten her, laying her with heat pooling in her belly and between her legs. As she watched, Aerin lowered her mouth to Morwen’s breast and nipped and sucked there, caressing the other with her strong hand. Morwen's head had fallen back, eyes closed and expression soft and peaceful. Rían swallowed a gasp, not wanting to disturb the sight, as Morwen’s hand rested on the back of Aerin’s head. But it caught her cousin’s attention, and she turned to her, startling her with the sharpness of her bright gaze.

“Aerin, we forget ourselves. Fetch Sador’s gift, will you not, while I warm her up?”

Aerin smiled and disappeared from Rían’s view. Morwen knelt on the bed in front of her.

“You are lovely, cousin, like a flower rising in the spring.” she praised, her hand tracing a path from Rían’s breast to her navel, making her shiver.

“There are ways to take pleasure in oneself without the aid of a husband — though perhaps you may like him to join, now and then, as a novelty.” she laughed, caressing the soft flesh of Rían’s thigh. Rían trembled. A taut line was within her, a thread that needed only the slightest tug to snap, and she longed for the breaking.

“Now, first, one must prepare. For the inexperienced, it is best never to rush.” Morwen spoke as though she were instructing her on a weaving technique, as she pushed Rían’s soft thighs further apart. A rosy blush spread down Rían’s chest and she was sure even her sex was flushed and pink, though she could not take her eyes from Morwen’s face to look.

Morwen’s clever fingers brushed lightly over her sex, gathering gleaming wetness on her fingertips. She pressed her finger between the folds of her labia and Rían gasped as she felt her nail circle her entrance, wet and quivering.

“This, you might do yourself, though it is better to have a handmaiden attend to it.” she said, pressing ever so slightly in. Rían had touched herself before, she wanted to protest, but Morwen had a better angle than she had ever got herself, rubbing gently against her inner walls, leaving Rían without the power of speech. “Ah —and here is Aerin. Good.”

Aerin returned and set nothing heavy sounding aside, out of Rían’s view. Finally, she had removed her shift. Her breasts were smaller and rounder than Morwen’s, and Rían admired the way the light dappled over the fair hair across her arms and legs, much lighter than her own. She knelt on the bed beside Morwen.

Morwen's fingers shifted, leaving her empty and wanting, up to the tender bud of her clit. She circled it idly with the pad of her thumb, watching with delight in her eyes as Rían shuddered and gasped at even this barest of touches.

Then she pinched it, ever so lightly, and the thread finally snapped. Hot sharp pleasure coursed through her, legs cramping, back arching as slickness gushed through her. It might have been a moment, it might have been forever, but when it passed and she lay breathless on the bed, both women were gazing at her.

“Is it always so?” she asked, her voice high and breathy. Aerin laughed.

“Aye, if one has the skilled hands of Morwen Edhelwen on oneself, it is always so.”

“Such flattery. Come and put your tongue to better use, Aerin. I am too worked up to continue our lesson.”

As Rían watched, Morwen sat back upon the bed, parting her legs and spreading her folds apart with one hand. Aerin came between them and put her mouth to her. Gentle she was at first, Rían could see, eyes drawn to the elegant curve of her spine and the rounded view of her ass, the hint of pale hair visible between her legs. A movement caught her eyes and she looked upwards again to Morwen’s heaving breast. She had brought her hand to grasp Aerin’s hair, holding her face against her sex and grinding down against her face. Her cousin was almost silent in her pleasure, except for the harshness of her breathing, and Rían could not tell if she was close.

Aerin seemed to know better how to read her, though, and added her fingers to join her tongue. Rían wished she could see what they were doing — as her own hand drifted almost without her will between her own legs, sinking into herself so easily now, the fire in her belly already renewed and hungry. Without warning —to Rían, at least — Morwen inhaled sharply, and fell limp against Aerin, who slowly pulled back and took her in her arms, tenderly brushing the hair from her face. Morwen’s wetness glistened on her lips and Rían could not help the moan that slipped from her as Morwen kissed it away.

But her cousin was never one to relax or bask in idleness, and she whispered something to Aerin, who stood and retrieved whatever it was she had brought earlier.

It was a carved phallus, made of a dark and polished wood. It was not particularly lengthy, in Rían’s opinion, but quite thick, though she had never seen any other real or wooden to compare. Morwen’s earlier words came back to her, and she turned red again — perhaps she would be flushed forever, now.

“Sador made this?”

“Aye,” Morwen took it. “It was a wedding gift from Húrin, for his long absences, and I am told Sador has quite the business of it.”

Rían wondered if Huor knew of this business. The brothers shared everything, after all...

But her pondering was interrupted as Morwen rubbed the length of the phallus against her cunt, slicking it with Rían’s wetness. She is going to put it in me.

For a moment, she wondered if that was right. Should such a thing be reserved for a husband and wife? But her cousin would never lead her astray, and she found she did not care if she did, for if it was anything like the pleasure she had shown her before, it must be worth it.

Aerin had settled by her head, stroking her hair as it fanned across the mattress. Morwen directed at Rían a silent question, pressing the head of the phallus against her hole. The tension inside her was almost too much.

She nodded.

Morwen pressed inside and Rían turned to press her face into Aerin’s thigh. It was not instant pleasure, like when Morwen had touched her before. It was a strange pressure-like sensation, the burn of a stretch as her body tried to accommodate the unyielding wood. She panted through it, as Morwen slowly worked it in. Aerin cooed gentle praise at her.

Stillness. A moment passed, then two. The burn faded swiftly, replaced only by the new and delightful fullness. She rocked her hips forwards, trying to encourage Morwen to do something, and suddenly she felt the phallus slide into her to the base.

“Oh!” her voice quivered. “Oh, that is wonderful.”

Aerin laughed and Morwen slowly dragged the phallus out again, leaving just the tip inside her, only to let it slowly sink back inside her. Again and again she tormented her like this, the drag of the slick wood against her walls both sweet and tortuous. It was not enough.

“More.” she demanded, finding her voice, and she almost shrieked as Morwen complied, pulling the toy almost out of her and shoving it back in all the way. Rían groaned, rolling her hips into it. “Yes, like that —ah-a! Oh!”

Morwen had brought her other hand to play with her clit, sending jolts of lightning up through Rían’s body. Wondrous and new and addicting.

“No wonder you are a singer, lady Rían, you have the sweetest of voices.” Aerin praised, and Rían turned to look at her. She had parted her legs, one above Rían’s head and the other beside her, and had two fingers in herself.

“Oh —ah!” Morwen had lifted Rían’s leg over her shoulder and the new angle this enabled was breathtaking. “Aerin, come here —the best of handmaiden should not be forgotten. I want to taste you.”

Aerin seemed surprised by her boldness, but shuffled closer, and Rían eagerly buried her face in her sex. She could not use her hands at this angle, save on bracing herself on Aerin’s muscled thigh. Instead, she nestled her face between her legs, tasting her wetness —sharp, but not salty as Rían had imagined a woman might taste. Clumsily she explored her with her tongue, circling the rim of her hole and pressing curiously instead, pleased with the insistent gasps and tugging of her hair from above.

And all the while Morwen drove the wooden phallus into her again and again, with more energy now, filling her and stretching her over and over. Rían moaned desperately against Aerin’s sex as Aerin trembled above her, and exclaimed, and Rían felt her body tense and tremble as she reached her climax. The sight of her ecstatic beauty and a final thrust of Morwen’s skillful hand, and Rían followed her over the edge for the second time, blaspheming Manwë, Varda and the Creator himself.

Blinding pleasure overwhelmed her again, clenching around the toy within her, and she feared for a moment she might never come down from this sweet high —her mind felt apart from her body, floating, weightless as dandelion fluff on the wind. She felt someone’s gentle hands cleaning her face and sex with cool water, someone’s strong arms maneuvering her into a more comfortable position on the bed, the pillows returned to their rightful place.

Rían breathed deeply and opened her eyes.

Aerin had fallen back against the headboard, surrounded by pillows, legs stretched out before her. Morwen lay down on her other side, propping herself up on her elbow to watch them both, her gaze warmer than usual.

“Returned to the realm of the living, my lady?” Aerin laughed and Rían sat up a little, shaking the tangles from her hair. She would endure well meant teasing if it meant more of their shared company.

"Might I need some more practice, cousin?" Rían asked breathily.

Morwen teasingly pinched her arm.

“What is it?” You ask cautiously, tilting your head.

“It’s for us.” Eowyn says, holding the device in her hand.

“How did you even get this made?” You ask, taking it in your hand like it’s a snake that might bite you.

“I bribed one of the blacksmiths.” She says, kneeling on the bed. “Swore him to secrecy.”

The device is long and smooth, made of polished metal. It’s phallic in nature, but the tip curves up just slightly. It’s not terribly large, but you’ve never seen anything like it, never thought of contriving such a device, and that scares you just a little.

“How did you think of this?” You ask, handing it back to her.

“Just an idea one night.” She shrugs, wrapping her fingers around it. “I didn’t know if it would even work.”

“Whatever you bribed him with, I hope it was enough to keep secrets.” You say, still staring at the device.

“I trust him.” She says, her fingers trailing your exposed leg. She’s quiet for a moment, contemplative before she looks back at you. “Will you try it?”

You let out a shaky breath, glancing at her face before turning back to the device. “You want to use it on me?”

“I can go first, if you prefer.” She says. “I had it made for us.”

“No, I can go first.” You say, fiddling with your fingers nervously.

Eowyn sets the device on the bed beside you, shifting so she’s kneeling in front of you. Her fingers slide up your legs, bunching the fabric of your nightgown as she goes. You help her tug it over your head, the fabric fluttering to the floor beside the bed. She tugs hers off as well, leaving you both bare to the warm air of the room.

You lay yourself back against the pillows as she crawls over you, settling herself between your legs. She lowers herself so your bodies are pressed together, the soft warmth of her settling over you before she presses a kiss to your lips. You kiss her back, wrapping your arms around her.

Her kisses are soft, teasing, her tongue darting out to lick at your bottom lip. You moan softly, parting your lips for her. She deepens the kiss, shifting her body just slightly so her hand can slide to your breasts. She cups one in her hand, squeezing it softly. You gasp into her mouth, a small sound leaving you as her thumb brushes your nipple. Warmth starts to pool in your belly, desire rising in you.

Her lips leave yours, trailing down your jaw to your neck as she continues to tease your nipple, that warmth in your belly shifting lower between your thighs.

“Eowyn,” you sigh, your fingers tangling in her golden hair. “Feels good.”

She hums against your throat, your back arching as she pinches your nipple between her fingers. A gasp leaves your lips as she nips at your skin, teeth sinking in just slightly. It’s going to leave a mark, and you’re going to have to find some way to hide it. That’s a problem for later.

Eowyn releases your breast, her fingers trailing a path down your stomach. Her touch is light, tickling, leaving a trail of goosebumps in her wake. You shiver, your stomach clenching as her fingers brush over your pelvis. Excitement thrums within you, your folds already starting to grow damp at the prospect of finally getting some attention.

Her fingers dip between your legs, finding your clit. Your head tilts back as they begin to circle it, teasing the sensitive nub. You tug lightly at her hair, lifting her face back to yours so you can kiss her again. You moan into her mouth, your hips pressing into her hand as she teases you.

“I need to get you ready,” she murmurs, pulling away from your lips.

You whine, but let her go as she sits herself between your legs. You bend your knees, widening your legs for her as she continues to rub your clit, the fingers of her other hand dragging through your folds, gathering the wetness pooling there. She slips a finger into you, your body clenching around the intrusion.

She works that finger into you before adding a second, still circling your clit with her other hand. Your hips press into her hand as pleasure begins to build, the feel of her inside of you mixed with the stimulation of your clit working you up.

She works you open with her fingers, your legs starting to shake as the pleasure continues to build. You could come undone on her fingers alone, and you have, but you know you’re far from over. There’s still the device that lays on the bed next to you. That was the point of this whole thing, after all.

Eowyn pulls her hands from you once she’s content with how wet you are, dripping all over her fingers. You watch as she grabs the device, running the fingers that had been inside you over the metal to get it wet.

Your breath hitches as she kneels between your legs, one hand settling on your thigh. You lift yourself to your elbows watching as she drags the tip through your folds, getting it wet with your juices.

“Ready?” She asks, looking up at you.

You continue to stare at it for a moment before looking up at her face and nodding.

You hold your breath as she begins to press it into you, the tip spreading you open. Your body jolts at the foreign feeling of it, squeezing around the device as she presses it into you.

“Slow,” you breathe, your body trying to adjust to the size of it. It’s bigger around than Eowyn’s fingers, the stretch burning just slightly, but the wetness of your body eases it a bit.

Eowyn slowly works it into you, more and more of it disappearing into your body. You shiver around it, the metal still cold to the touch despite the warmth of the room.

“You alright?” Eowyn asks, pausing.

“It’s cold,” you laugh nervously.

“We’ll warm it next time.” She says, continuing to work the device into you.

Next time.

You lay back on the bed as she starts to move the device, thrusting it in and out of you. It’s an odd feeling, but not...unpleasant. The curved tip presses along your walls, a quiet sound leaving your lips when it brushes that spot inside of you.

“Oh,” you gasp, your body clenching at the sudden burst of pleasure. Eowyn’s eyes lift to your face, her movements slowing. A shaky breath leaves your lips, one of your hands gripping the sheets. “Do that again,” you breathe.

She angles the device upwards slightly, slowly pressing it into you. It drags along that spot, your head tilting back as a soft moan leaves your lips from the stimulation. She starts to thrust the device into you, keeping it angled upward so it hits that spot with every pass of it inside of you.

Your back arches from the pleasure, a loud moan leaving your lips. “Don’t stop,” you gasp, your legs starting to tremble.

Eowyn takes your hand with her free one, lacing your fingers together as she picks up speed, thrusting the device into you faster. Your back arches, another long moan leaving your lips from the sensation, the press of it inside you. You squeeze her hand, gripping the sheets with the other as you cling on for dear life.

“Please, please,” you pant, the pleasure building and building, almost becoming too much.

“Come undone for me,” she says, sweat beading on her brow as she works the device into you almost frantically.

You nearly arch off the bed as your release washes over you, your legs shaking from the intensity of the pleasure. You squeeze around the device, as if your body is trying to draw it in deeper as you reach your peak. You cling to Eowyn’s hand as you tremble, her own hand withdrawing the device. Your body clenches around nothing, and you feel oddly empty now.

“Well?” She asks, stroking your knuckles. “You seem to have enjoyed that.”

You eye the device in her hand before looking at her face and nodding. “That was incredible.”

She grins, tossing it onto the bed before crawling back up your body. “Good.” She presses a kiss to your lips, cupping your cheek.

Your own hand trails down her body, slipping between her thighs to feel the dampness of her folds. You grin into her kiss before flipping the two of you over. You kneel between her thighs, spreading them open. “Let me thank you for that properly.” You say, sliding your hands down her inner thighs before lowering yourself to the bed.

The air is stifling, yet a fire burns hot in the hearth. Its flickering flames cast dancing shadows across the stone walls. Sweat slicks her skin, beads dripping from her temples into her hair. Nimrazêl always preferred the cold, but she prefers it hot.

The body pressed against hers does little to help the heat, her skin too warm, like fire every place it brushes Nimrazêl’s. She’s always warm, always burning like a great furnace. It’s suffocating, uncomfortable, but she can do little about it. She could not change even her father’s will. To bend hers would be a feat impossible by anyone, mortal or immortal.

Lips trail across her throat, tongue laving the sweat-soaked skin. She hums softly, content, aroused. Silky strands of red hair tickle her skin, red like the fire that burns in the hearth, like the fire that burns within her.

“You are distracted, my love.” She purrs, her mouth leaving Nimrazêl’s throat as she lifts her head.

Nimrazêl stares into her golden eyes, her mind wishing to sink into the promise held within them, the promise of pleasure and warmth and affection. False promises, and she knows this. She is not capable of those things, except perhaps pleasure. She had wrought sensations from her body she had never thought possible in the short time they’ve been married.

Her fingers trace her lips, the sharp nail of her thumb biting into the skin. There’s always pain before the pleasure. She is incapable of bringing one without the other.

“It is hot,” Nimrazêl says quietly, her throat starting to go dry.

“My little sea bird prefers it cold.” She says, almost mockingly. “Then I will remedy that, if it keeps your mind from wandering.”

She flicks her fingers and the balcony doors fly open, slamming against the wall from the force. Nimrazêl flinches at the sound, twitching ever so slightly beneath her. She can’t deny the relief, though, as a gust of cool air flows into the room. She feels as if she can breathe for the first time that night.

She cups her cheek, leering down at her. “Better?”

She nods, swallowing thickly. “Yes. Thank you.”

“Good girl.” She purrs, stroking her face before leaning down to kiss her again.

Nimrazêl kisses her back, knowing the price of resistance. Her fingers tangle in those silky red strands, tugging gently. She makes a quiet noise against her lips, her body pressing tighter against her side.

The cool air coming in through the door does little to ease the fire beneath her skin as she strokes her fingers across Nimrazêl’s skin. She blazes a path down her throat to her chest, slipping lower to squeeze her breast before sliding down over her stomach. Nimrazêl fights the urge to squeeze her thighs together as her fingers trail lower, the sharp point of her nail leaving a line on her skin. It stings, but she could do worse.

Nimrazêl’s thighs twitch as two of her fingers dip between her thighs, the two with the blunted nails dragging through her damp folds. She chuckles, stroking her folds before those fingers find her clit. Nimrazêl lets out a quiet sound, no more than a whimper but it has a smirk tugging at her lips.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” She says, her lips brushing her ear. She traps one of Nimrazêl’s thighs between hers, her own body warm and wet against her skin.

“Yes,” Nimrazêl whimpers, her grip on her hair tightening as she circles her clit with her fingers. “You make me feel good.”

“I know.” She smirks smugly, pulling away from her clit. Nimrazêl lets out a whimper at the loss of contact, the pleasure that had begun to bubble beneath her skin fading.

She slips her fingers lower, pressing them against her entrance. Nimrazêl lets out a deep breath, clutching the silk sheets with her other hand as she presses them into her. A moan slips from her lips at the sensation, her long, delicate fingers reaching in deep.

Her own hips begin to rock against Nimrazêl’s thigh as she starts to thrust her fingers into her. She pants against her ear, a quiet moan slipping through as her clit drags against her skin. She’s not above seeking her own pleasure.

A moan escapes Nimrazêl’s lips as her fingers curl inside of her, brushing against that spot. She pushes against it, angling her thrusts upwards.

“Yes,” she pants, fingers clutching at her hair still. “Please,”

“You’re so beautiful when you beg.” She murmurs, her breath hot against her ear.

She drives her fingers into that spot, the wet squelch of her slick filling the quiet room. Nimrazêl’s back arches, hips pressing into her hand, chasing the pleasure that’s building and building inside of her. Her hips move faster against her thigh, her own body chasing its high as she moans quietly in her ear.

“Please, please,” she gasps, thighs trying to close around her fingers but she’s trapped. “I’m so close.”

“You think you deserve it? You think you deserve release, princess?” She pants, her own movements getting frantic.

“Yes!” She whines, her head tilting back. “Please!”

“Then show me.” She hisses.

Nimrazêl’s entire body trembles as she reaches her peak, a cry leaving her lips as her back arches off the bed. She spasms around her fingers, squeezing around them tight as they press hard against that spot. Her name leaves her lips like a prayer, her eyes rolling back as wave after wave of pleasure flows through her.

She tugs hard on her hair, forcing her head back. She laughs gleefully, her own body shuddering as she reaches her own peak. Her movements slow, her fingers slipping out of Nimrazêl as she trembles beneath her. Nimrazêl watches as she brings her fingers to her lips, shiny with her juices. She takes them into her mouth, eyes meeting hers as she licks them clean.

“My little sea bird.” She purrs, gripping her chin in her hand. “You’re so beautiful like this.” She leans down, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. It’s full of false tenderness.

Nimrazêl knows Zigûr would hurt her the first chance she got.