A short piece written for the FF13 kink meme. Title is a line from Leonard Cohen's "A Thousand Kisses Deep".
...
It was a boring day. But Vanille knew that. It was the middle of the week, the perfect zone where nothing ever happened. The midpoint between coming off the high of whatever excitement the last weekend brought and the anticipation for what the next one would bring. Mired in the daily routine and drudgery of housework, she sort of went on autopilot, just trying to get done the little things so she could enjoy the distant weekend.
Maybe that was why she was so surprised when her mind suddenly turned on, and she was greeted by a very strange little idea.
She was on laundry duty that day, folding and putting away her and Fang's clothes, fresh from drying outside, still carrying the floral scent only the crisp air outside could bring. She reached for one of Fang's saris and held it up. The wind blew in at that moment, giving her a face full of it, but mixed with just a hint of Fang's own scent. Her fingers twitched a little, the friction making her eyes open a bit as she felt the smooth fabric. They continued to rub against each other with the sari between them.
Her body heat up a little and she got flustered. Wednesday afternoon, and for no reason at all, she found herself extremely turned on. Thoughts of Fang filled her mind, wonderful thoughts, but also the kinds of thoughts that would really put a cramp in getting things done. She pulled the sari close to her and sighed. Maybe the folding could wait a little bit.
...
With uncharacteristic softness in her steps, Fang made her way into the house. Allegedly, she was off getting the shaft of her spear repaired after an incident with a monster a few days ago. In reality, the spear was already being repaired, and Fang had a surprise of Vanille, boxed up and sure to make her day.
So caught up in being quiet, she wasn't paying attention to the sounds coming from their bedroom. Loud sounds; sounds Fang had no excuse to not recognize. She threw the door open, and was greeted with her own surprise, also gift-wrapped, in a sense.
Vanille lay on their bed, wrapped loosely in her sari and nothing else, screaming out in pleasure as her fingers plunged deep inside her, writhing against the soft silk garb. With her eyes shut tight and caught up in her self-pleasure, she didn't notice Fang standing right there.
What was she to do about this? She didn't want to disturb Vanille, since she seemed to be having way too much fun to stop her now, but at the same time the sight was turning Fang on a great deal. She really only had one choice.
As her hips raised a little, Vanille's fingers focused on her clitoris, her dripping slit exposed to the chill air, shivers racing up her spine. Her mind drew to Fang, not that she would want think of anyone else, especially wrapped in her garb. Imaginary Fang ravaged her, as powerful as when their relationship was younger, when their intense lovemaking was new and she was caught up in days upon days of bliss.
Just before the fingers were about to move downward, something caught her by the wrist, knocking her out of her contemplation. She opened her eyes to see a mane of black hair descending upon her, and before she could react, Fang's tongue ran across her slit, sending her back arching up. "Fang!" she shouted with surprise, the word turning into a moan as it ended.
Slowly and teasingly, Fang's tongue worked its way upward from Vanille's core, slithering its way up her as Fang began to straddle her. She had undressed before, and as she neared Vanille's lips, she wrapped them both in the sari she had worn and the one Vanille had 'worn'. When finally their lips met, their bodies were tangled and locked into position, their inevitable kiss charged with intensity and passion long unseen in their lovemaking. They were re-energized, the spark rediscovered.
"Fang..." Vanille moaned into her lover's mouth.
Fang didn't speak, though, and just as suddenly as Fang had come upon her, their kiss was over and Vanille was in a completely different position-she always marvelled at how quickly Fang moved. She lay on her side, wrapped in both saris rather sloppily, Fang between her legs, one hooked over her shoulder, making her scream.
Pleasure crashed against her constantly, a never-ending assault of bliss at Fang's command. Her eyes clenched tightly, her back arching even more, her hands grabbing handfuls of the bedding around her. Fang had control over her entire body, commanded her every move, and there was nothing she could do to stop it if she even wanted to. She was Fang's, now and forever, lost in the swirling pleasures of her tongue. Her leg twitched a little, her thigh rubbing against Fang's black hair, making one of her most sensitive spots and most prone to twitches just go more.
A laugh came to Fang as Vanille danced on her tongue, shifting and heaving and convulsing in time with her affections, rewarding her with her most intimate of tastes, which Fang had no choice but to accept graciously. Her tongue plunged again and again deep into Vanille, into her very essence, linking them so intimately. They both spiralled into a deluge of bliss and passion.
Vanille quickly lost herself. She was so close before, and Fang's presence threatened to send her over the edge far sooner than she wanted to. She couldn't help it; her body was all soaked in sex and swept away, leaving her totally vulnerable as her orgasm tore through her, Fang keeping up the assault on her inside through it all. Her body quivered, her nerves burned, her senses reeled, everything going blank for her. Not black, that would imply a colour she was aware of. It was more apt to say that everything simply ceased to be. Her entire existence was summarized by the orgasm that seemed to tear her apart.
When she came to, Fang licked up the last drops of her juices and looked up at her with a predatory smile.
They were far from done.