Living in darkness was something the two of them were used to. Neither liked light very much, especially sunlight. Marley was naturally pallid and burned if she was outdoors too long, and Shauntal often left all the lights off in her home, lighting it with candles. The flickering, ghostly dance of the flames set the perfect mood to read or write horror stories by. It was part of what brought them together and what strengthened their relationship. Neither liked going out too much, and they could bond over the darkness.
Neither did very much brooding, though, despite their gothic-leaning senses of style. They just preferred to keep to themselves and enjoyed the stillness and silence. In seeking like company, they found each other, and formed a bond in the shadows cast by the dim orange glow of Shauntal's apartment. It provided them with something to hold onto, a real and tangible warmth that felt more soothing than the dancing flames around them.
Marley's pale thigh lit up in the candlelight, burning wicks practically lining the room. Shauntal's bedroom was full of candle holders on every surface, even candelabras erected on the walls, and on either side and directly above the middle of her large, luxurious bed. It bathed both women in orange, though it was more noticeable on Marley, whose dress had been pulled up and whose pantyhose were slowly pulled down, Shauntal's lips chasing after the top band and giving the newly-exposed flesh a flurry of kisses. The orange light didn't add colour to her ghostly pale skin, didn't make it look like normal, healthy flesh. Instead, it added an eerie glow to it, illumined just how pallid she truly was.
Of them, Marley was far more introverted, and kept largely silent as Shauntal pulled her pantyhose off, and only provided soft noises as they were tossed to the side and the writer's dextrous fingers started at her panties. She was always quiet, especially in bed, but Shauntal knew all the little tells that she was enjoying herself. The way she gripped at the hem of her black and white gothic lolita dress, for instance, with her fingers tight and constantly wringing it. Her anticipation betrayed her, and as the black, frilly panties were tossed away too, she moaned her lover's name. There was some deadpan in it, but the fact she had gone that far was enough.
Reaching between the pale, black-haired girl's legs, Shauntal eased a finger slowly against her slit. She knew she didn't need to be sensitive, but she liked the moment of teasing before finally entering Marley. She gave a few prods and rubs before it slipped in easily. Her other arm wrapped around her leg from below, pulling it up so that the candlelight illuminated it even more. She pressed her lips to it, giving long, savory kisses that inched deeper very slowly. Her wide eyes looked up longingly at the blushing girl, the redness in her cheeks always very apparent against their alabaster backdrop. She enjoyed watching the gentle rise and fall caused by Marley's breathing, and the way her hands refused to stay still. Reaching around with the arm around her leg, Shauntal adjusted her glasses as she got at least to the goth girl's dripping core.
Her lips parted and a slow motion brought them to press hungrily into her folds. She kissed her; a long, agonizing kiss that made Marley squeeze even harder on the hem of her dress and whimper. She wanted to reach down and run her fingers through her girlfriend's purple hair, to encourage her onward, but she couldn't bring herself to be so active or outgoing. She preferred to remain there, bathed in darkness and pleasure.
The light crackling of the candles had been the only sound in the room, save for the occasional smacking of Shauntal's lips and Marley's piercing cries. With a wave of Shauntal's hand though, the flames died, and the faint orange glow dancing across every surface and inch of flesh died, leaving only darkness. A new sound took the place of the candles, whispered words like strands of gossamer muffled by Marley's mound. Shauntal had begun to spin a tale right there, whispering it into her core, letting the motion of her lips flush against her guide her course. It was a strange feeling, to feel words formed against her, but it evoked powerful sensations deep inside her. Her back arched and she bit down instinctively on her lower lip as a moan rolled forth, more emotive than anything she had ever said.
In the darkness, there was only them. Only them and pleasure.