Larxene is lightning all over.
In face, Naminé thinks that's why she styles her hair the way she does – she's a human lightning rod, always prepared for thunderous energy.
Her hands, though, most resemble the bolts. It's when she and Naminé are alone, finally alone, that Larxene whips off her gloves and all of that cackling force spreads to her fingertips and gives off a spark with every touch.
It's apparent in her lips at first, as they crush Naminé's own, uncharacteristically gentle at first, but then fast and dangerous like the rest of her. Naminé can barely keep up, her body quivering as she tries to slow the pace down. But no, Larxene has to go, go, go, powerful and fast with an awe-inspiring impression.
Her fingers spark and cackle down Naminé's little body, pausing to stop at her breasts for a quick moment, but continuing their trek down. Lightning doesn't make pit stops; it goes where it's meant to and does what it must.
Naminé whimpers as those fingers slide under her panties; they're so close, close enough that she almost begs for mercy, but then Larxene's lips are on her ear, then neck, and Naminé lose all coherent thought. Larxene growls and Naminé gasps and suddenly those fingers shock her entire body into gasps and quivering moans.
They're quick to slip inside of her, one, two, three – only the storm isn't three miles away; it's so close she can practically taste it. Those fingers are like lightning, sending sparks throughout her as they move faster and closer, so much that her gasps can barely keep up.
The peak of the storm was quickly approaching; the lightning was almost nonstop and thunder roared in her ears. The wind was howling and everything – both of them – clashed together in the strangest way that almost seemed beautiful.
It almost hurts when she comes; the storm was rough and fast. The fog finally clears and she feels utterly, utterly spent. Breathless.
Larxene stands up and there's one more cackle of a kiss before she bolts; she likes her colleagues to be unprepared for her arrival. Naminé sits up, still breathing hard and gasping for air she so desperately needs. Everything feels numb, and yet her lack of heart is strangely alive.
People always talk about the 'calm after the storm', but Naminé knew this was no calm. It was the eye of a hurricane, and she would eventually be back to finish the storm.
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Oh my. O: Review please?