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A "little death"
In French, the words for orgasm, was "little death."
Or rather, originally it was.
It was referred to as la petite mort. Technically meaning "temporary weakening of consciousness."
Natasha always found that amusing.
It was why, at times like this? When she was sitting on the edge of her bed, wearing barely anything, save for her lacy bra and underwear, both black, and she watched Clarke desperately stare at her, hungrily, most likely about to literally do anything to be able to lick between Natasha's legs, Natasha's mind went back to that fact.
The fact about what orgasm meant in French.
Wasn't it true, though? That the name for an orgasm in French, was that? Because didn't you experience a type of death when you were brought to pleasure? When you felt yourself tense up, then lose control and release your fluids, even if you tried to fight it?
Natasha more often than not wondered if the French were a bit morbid, as well as a bit perverse.
Then again, coming from her? Who the hell was Natasha to talk? And she knew it too.
So, as she held her left hand out for Clarke to take, to lead Clarke into her bed, Natasha could all but feel the words on the tip of her tongue, even if she knew the reaction she'd get from Clarke would be a disturbed one.
Still, as Clarke took her hand and climbed up onto the bed with her beloved Natasha, resting her head against Natasha's bare left shoulder, Natasha said softly, smirking, "Clarke, do you know what the French call an orgasm, love?"
Clarke paused, glanced at Natasha's face, blushed lightly and nodded.
"Yeah," she said quietly, "I know."
"What does it mean, malen'kiy?" Natasha asked, still smirking.
Clarke hesitantly answered, shrugging, "'Little death.'"
"That's right, love," Natasha said, smiling wider now, "So," she raised her right hand, her right palm cupping Clarke's chin as the redhead purred out to her blonde lover, "Are you ready then, for me to give you several "little deaths" tonight?"
Clarke swallowed, letting out a small whine as she climbed onto Natasha's lap.
Clarke was wearing only underwear herself. She had no bra on, just was wearing a T-shirt and she rubbed her underwear covered cunt against Natasha's left leg, gasping as she felt her clit stimulated.
Natasha snickered as Clarke moved, her left hand going to Clarke's right hip and stopping Clarke from continuing to stroke her cunt against her lover.
"No," Natasha ordered softly, but beneath that softness, Clarke knew that there was predatory intent armed with the strongest of metals, "You do not get to move, unless I make it happen, understand, malen'kiy?"
Clarke whined again but nodded.
"Good girl," Natasha said, and asked, "Do you remember your safe word?"
Clarke nodded again. "Yes, mommy," she said, sounding desperate, and Natasha fought a chuckle.
Natasha removed her right hand from Clarke's chin and moved it down to between Clarke's legs, pulling Clarke's underwear down and her palm pressed against Clarke's clit and she moved her hand back and forth against Clarke's cunt. As she did, she smirked again as Clarke moaned and began moving her hips back and forth against Natasha's hand.
Clarke's blue eyes soon closed and Natasha was positive that when those eyes opened again, they would turn black.
Natasha at last let out her chuckle, her left arm wrapping around Clarke's waist and leaning forward, cooing into Clarke's ear, "How many 'little deaths' do you think I can give you, before you pass out, malyshka?"
Clarke gasped again, her hips moving fast, and Natasha pushed two of her fingers into Clarke's wet, wet heat, still pressing her palm against Clarke's clit as she did.
Natasha fought a grin as Clarke shook, her hips bucking fast as Natasha's middle and index finger probed her and Natasha's palm stroked against the younger woman's pulsing clit.
"Hmm," Natasha purred, pleased, leaning her head forward and kissing Clarke savagely and deeply and spread her fingers inside the blonde's pussy, causing Clarke to cry out into Natasha's mouth.
Natasha smirked against Clarke's mouth.
She then pulled away, then leaned down to Clarke's neck, and kissed the pulse point at Clarke's neck, gently biting as she started stroking Clarke's clit harder and started thrusting her fingers in and out of Clarke's cunt, bringing endless moans from Clarke.
Natasha sucked at Clarke's neck as she fingered the young woman, smirking as she did.
How appropriate to name an orgasm "little death." To call something that kept someone in a throe of pleasure and ravaged someone till the one being assaulted by such sensations couldn't take any more.
There would plenty of time tonight to make Clarke feel so many "little deaths." So many times for Clarke's body to be ravaged by the pleasure of those deaths.
So many times for Clarke to die in Natasha's arms tonight, before the younger woman passed out.