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[longwillows]

reach out?

the smell of fresh water in dry desert air. the feeling of cautious curiosity. a place as dangerous as it is resplendent.

c

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[longwillows]

[Like sedimentary bedrock, her present sensitivity was built in layers. The very foundation, the touch starvation she's lived with since she was born; the once-bitten modesty of someone who fears the moment the jaws will close again; and the too-direct tie from her heart to the tight spiral of heat of her abdomen, her affection spilling over the line into the nerves he won't stop teasing.

It's all brought her here, where she can hear the faint drip of her own eagerness against the floor even more clearly than her own sighs, a patter that would be lost to less keen senses. In other circumstances, for other people, it might be embarrassing to be so wet from so little. But Arthur has never minded her inclination towards mess. And he definitely doesn't seem to mind as the sound of rummaging within one of the desk's sturdy drawers reaches her ears, some half-remembered forethought bringing a dip of amusement into her breath as he retrieves the lubricant.

Keeping her feet planted firmly when his mouth ventures to her clit and his finger eases into her ass is a difficult ask; each synchronized press of digit and tongue strikes her nerves in a jolt, up her spine and down into her legs in sharp, responsive twitches. With a needy groan she pillows her head onto her folded arms, too aware of the parallel pulse of Arthur's unresolved desire beating alongside her own through the strengthening tether, and the subtle change in his scent as his want swells. Nearly a plea,] Fuck—

[She hadn't forgotten how good it was. But she certainly hasn't been letting herself think about it since they woke from that dream.]

[pointedlook]

[ There's a push and pull, an expected rhythm in the way he laps at her, how he stretches her open. Underneath that is another flow, a looping feedback over the rapid re-connection of their tether, as if every touch brings dead nerves sizzling back to life. The pink room hovers at the edge of both their minds and the pleasure blends, making it harder to distinguish if the buzz of need is solely his own. Because he can feel the throb of hers, nearly in time with the wanting pulse of her body, burning at the same degree as his own.

Slick drips, collecting in a small pool on the floor, and he encourages more of it as he closes his mouth over her clit and sucks. One finger nudges up to two, the tips curled as he stroked her inside.

His other hand caresses the curve of one cheek to her hip and then up to her belly, petting the soft contour of it, thumb dipping in to the divot of her navel. Dragging even lower, he skims through her curls before diverting, the barest scratch of short nails along the inside of one thigh. Releasing the suction of his mouth, he pushes his tongue in her pussy, two digits still rocking carefully into the tight squeeze of her rim. ]

[longwillows]

[The familiar suction at her clit has her burying her face fully into the belabored fold of her arms, seeking the solace of darkness and easing herself of one of the too-many stimuli in this glowing pink sea of pleasure. Without the bleary close-up of the wood grain of her desk, she's dragged deeper into the rushing, intangible current of their tether, a tug she has absolutely no desire to resist. Her thighs twitch and tremble, every muscle in her abdomen tensing with the sharp yank at her nerves every time he sucks, a flex only faintly perceptible when his hand slides just below the plush curve of her stomach.

A wordless and pleading whine cuts the air at the scrape of his nails and the momentary departure of his mouth, though it pitches down into something guttural as she feels the hot press of his tongue into her while his fingertips curl into the nerves normally accessed from the other side.

Holding her hips still is no longer in the question. Desperate for friction and fullness, they rock down once onto Arthur's tongue before the restless motion travels up into her tails, loosed from his hold and shivering. They lash— tense— curl upward out of the way, as if she could possibly present herself more fully to him in this position. She can't, not really, but the groan in her throat is more beastly, the stretch of her shaking leg muscles more generous.

Faintly through the strengthening tether, there is the sense that he is being called to, wordless and needy.]