The touch is light. Gentle. She never knew Cyclonis could be gentle. Piper is fully clothed, lying on her back on the large bed, but her shirt is pulled up over her belly. Lark touches with the back of her hands- not even that. Just the back of her fingers, the nails smooth and hard as she runs them down along Piper's sides. The sensation is momentous in every sense of the word- it's nothing much at first, until Cyclonis does it again. The pleasure… mounts. She doesn't press any harder, doesn't grab or grope or tease or torture. She simply slides her hands down Piper's side again, and again, and the pressure builds inside the girl as her nerve ends ignite at the delicate, spine-tingling touch. Her chest grows heavy. It's hard to breathe.
Lark is tactile by nature. The world is a foggy place, shadows seen only in mirrors, a blur of ideas and expressions, meaningless words and meaningless emotions. So she trusts in nothing but what her senses can tell her- what previous experience has taught her.
And previous experience has taught her that a woman's flesh is infinitely softer than that of a man's.
She tells herself its simply a matter of aesthetics. What is better- to sleep between silk sheets or on top of a burlap sack? Pain, or pleasure? Smooth milk chocolate, or rancid bile?
The correct answer is Piper to all of the above.
Her shirt, gently cut apart with a single sharp crystal. orange and navy blue peeled off to leave dark chocolate skin exposed and fragile.
Besides the already fading heat of the crystal dangerously close to her skin, nothing touches. The distance is very carefully and purposefully maintained, an agonizing wait until the single moment of contact- of Lark's tongue sliding along Piper's belly, up between her breasts, along her neck to reach her mouth and then gently kiss it. She traps Piper's upper lip between her own.
Piper bites her.
And Lark decides that she likes chocolate very much.
"You can't- Ah!" Piper says, and the next word is lost in a sharp gasp as Lark does something with her knee between Piper's legs.
"Can't what?" Lark wants to know, gently nipping at the girl's ear with her bleeding upper lip. A single droplet of crimson falls onto the bed sheet, like broken innocence.
"You can't- won't…"
In response, Lark presses her lips against Piper's throat. Everything is so carefully coordinated that the navigator feels almost frightened, out of control. It's like Lark somehow read a manual on Piper's Buttons And How To Push Them. Everything is so slow, it only amplifies every touch, every sordid human physical want.
Calculated.
A whimper.
Controlling.
No…
A meaty, wet smack of their lips parting once more, Cyclonis looking down at her with blazing purple eyes, an ever present smirk on her face.
Oh, God.
Black nails run down her skin, harder this time.
The chains rattle, but the bonds around Piper's wrist aren't tight enough to cut circulation.
After all, Cyclonis didn't want her to be uncomfortable.