.24. Nyctophobia
Ty Lee's hands reach down, oh so slowly, and her wife feels her soft fingertips slide to the tie of her robe. She slips off the one shred of clothing she has worn to bed. In the dim remnants of lamplight, Azula looks up at the big eyes of her wife, who always looks at her like she is something glorious and divine. Which she supposes she is, but…
Azula strokes her neck and she remembers what they are doing. For the first time in months, it is not frantic and fast and hidden. Ty Lee straddles her and their bodies are very close. It does not feel close to be doing what they have been doing since their relationship changed so significantly.
Ty Lee reaches an easy hand down, stroking along her side, her curves, giving her chills, until it slides to her hip, lingers softly and tantalizingly for a moment and then dips lower. Azula opens her legs gradually because for once they have nothing but time.
The tips of Ty Lee's fingers slide in the warm wetness surging forth and Azula shivers. Her hips arch towards her, swaying up. The surge is electric, not like hasty static.
Azula knows they have nothing but time, but Ty Lee lacks the level of patience that her princess has. When her fingertips reach her entrance and press lightly they cry out in a long-lost harmony. Slowly, Ty Lee pushes two fingers in, joint by joint. Azula shivers with need, her nipples hard as chips of ice and then—
Hammering against the door. A small voice screeching, "Let me in! I'm scared! It's dark and I'm scared!"
So much for nothing but time.
