A/N: This is a fanfic of Gamma's fic "Not Jealous". Victorian lesbian smutty Blackcest. You've been warned.
"You're staring again," Cedrella says, lips twisting into a hungry, triumphant smile.
"I am not!" Callidora says, warmth blooming over her cheeks.
Cedrella moves closer, chest pushing outward like she's little more than some common harlot. Callidora tries not to look at her sister's bosom. It's just a twisted game, a desperate attempt to get a reaction out of the other girl.
But Merlin! It works. Callidora's gaze falls upon her sister's chest, upon the steady rising and falling of her breasts with each breath.
Thoughts flicker through Callidora's mind. Filthy thoughts. Forbidden thoughts. Thoughts that ought to horrify her. But she welcomes them.
What would it be like to do more than simply stare? She imagines grabbing her sister's gown and ripping it to shreds, pulling away the laces of her corset and touching her breasts, trailing her fingers over sensitive skin, pinching her nipples until they're sore. Of course, that would lead to so much more. Pushing petticoats to the floor, kissing bare skin until the younger girl is writhing beneath her.
Callidora licks her lips and instantly regrets it. Cedrella has won. Again.
The younger girl presses against her sister, and Callidora groans, the heat returning to her face. "You ought to be whipped for such impure thoughts, dear sister," Cedrella murmurs.
Callidora shivers. "As should you for inspiring such impure thoughts," she counters, placing her hands over her sister's chest, groping lightly through the fabric.
With a groan, Cedrella relaxes, eyes closing, dark lashes caressing her skin. "I'm looking forward to it."
Again, Callidora licks her lips, body trembling with anticipation. This is so much more than just thoughts. This is action, finally seeing her deepest, darkest dreams become a reality. But now, in spite of the many delicious ideas only moments before, she doesn't know where to begin.
"Well?" Cedrella prompts, foot tapping impatiently for effect.
To hell with it, Callidora thinks, grabbing the fabric and tearing it, sending buttons tinkling to the floor.
Cedrella moans, shivering. "Surely you can do better than that," she says, her voice low, a trace of a whine in her words.
With a smirk, Callidora runs her nails over the tops of her sister's exposed bosom. "You talk too much," she says sternly, moving her hands so that she can grip the corset laces. "And I can think of a much better use for your mouth. If you can behave yourself."
The whimper that escapes Cedrella's throat is all too sweet. Callidora takes her time, slowly unlacing the strings, fingers grazing her sister's bare back.
"Callidora," the younger girl groans.
Callidora digs her nails into her back, smirking as her sister squirms. "Remember, you started this," she says. "Do not play games with me unless you're sure you can handle them."
Still shivering, Cedrella falls silent, lips pressed into a hard, stubborn line as Callidora removes the corset completely. Hungrily, the older girl presses her lips to the soft breasts, sucking and biting the sweet flesh and leaving patches of red in her wake.
"Callidora!" More urgently now.
"Hush. Mother and Father are downstairs," Callidora reminds her, pushing the remains of the gown to the floor to join the corset. "Wouldn't want to be caught."
Callidora's fingers work nimbly to send her sister's petticoat to the sea of discarded clothing at their feet. She steps back, admiring the naked, bare body before her, her heart racing with delight. Cedrella is all hers.
"Such a pretty girl," Callidora praises, moving forward again and catching her sister's long hair, pulling it roughly. "But such a devilish little temptress, aren't you?"
Whimpering, Cedrella nods, biting her lip.
"That's right, my love," Callidora says, pressing the younger girl against the wall and returning her lips to her chest.
She takes her time, teasing her with little kisses among the sharp bites. "You're my little harlot, aren't you?"
She can't see Cedrella's face as her own face is pressed against the girl's torso, but she's certain she nods again. Callidora smiles, her hands roaming up Cedrella's silky thighs until her fingers brush over the curls of coarse hair between her legs.
"Callidora, please."
Callidora moves her hand away, looking up with a grin. "This was your game. Your own fault," she says sweetly, climbing to her feet. "Now, you finish it."