inbox for duplicity;

[transgressings]

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[transgressings]

[ She knows now, beyond any doubt or second-guessing, that any outward influence this city sought to provide in order to manipulate them into intimacy could have only been responsible for so much — for there is none of that here, now, in the seclusion of the space that has been granted to her as a bittersweet consolation prize for the losses she has endured. The only force behind her directness, her initiation, is the desire that naturally exists within her for this woman, plain and untainted by external incentives.

Morgana's lips are soft against her own, yielding with almost no hesitancy, and yet they challenge as well, assertive in the hands that grasp at her waist to draw her in closer, firmly and unmistakably claiming. Her own fingers thread into the dark, wild strands of Morgana's hair to clutch deeper, and she breathes her need there, a soft exhale that betrays the depths of yearning that have existed within her since the last night they shared on a shifting sea.

Now, there is nothing beneath them but entirely solid ground, and she is helplessly, starkly aware of what little fabric exists to shield her from Morgana's gaze, her touch, her heat; she already longs to be bare and entwined, to feel the other woman's skin against her own, to hear the cries fingers and tongue are capable of driving from her throat.

She breaks away, but only for the purpose of letting her lips descend along the delicate arch of Morgana's jaw, inclining lower to lavish attention at her neck, soft pressing kisses that allow her to draw in the unique notes of the other woman's scent, and beneath it the power that naturally emanates from her but is discerned even more readily through direct skin contact. ]

[desolation]

[ this breathes addiction, a yearning that comes not from the need to satisfy a number as challenged by the city but by her own demand for desire. it is so very rare for her ache to revolve around a unique individual, caring little for the person whose hands would drift between her legs to touch her or the face she'll come to sit upon when seeking a tongue to fuck her; she knows all interactions inevitably lead to betrayal and building any kind of acquaintanceship has proven to be a waste in effort. and yet, here, she knows precisely whose lips she wants, whose curves she craves to touch once more. ]

Vanessa — [ she voices it with a smile as her head tips back to welcome the descent of a worshiping mouth, already feeling the heat where lips make contact with skin, each caress drawing on a memory in which they'd tangled in that old creaking bed, familiarizing themselves with those shared tastes.

though one hand drifts high to tangle in the back of that kept up hair, she maintains the grip of a hip, hard enough to urge a turning that nudges vanessa hard against a counter's edge. it is only then that her fingers loosen, though they choose to instead bunch the fabric of her lover's skirt high upon her hip, enough until she can sneak her hand beneath it, palm seeking a firm grip of a bare rear. ]

[transgressings]

[ She should have known right from the very start that she would be powerless to resist this woman, that from the moment she felt compelled to drop to her knees and worship before the very altar that had demanded it of them it would be a reverence that would extend far beyond that night. And it has, although it has evolved into an intense yearning that she could have never anticipated, as though part of her is always craving the touch of these pale, slender fingers, longing for the soft press of this mouth against her own. It may be why she has acted somewhat heedlessly in pursuing more, choosing not to consider the possibility of betrayal between them when there are much more pressing considerations to dwell on — like whether or not they will make it up the stairs and into her bed. ]

My name has never sounded more perfect than it does on your lips, my lady. [ She murmurs it against Morgana's skin, the low cut of the other's bodice ensuring that her kisses can cover more skin — and she has intentions on dipping lower before she finds herself spun, maneuvered up against the edge of the foyer table hard enough to snatch a breath from her lungs.

She has been conscious of her bareness beneath this robe long before now, but no more does that awareness rear its head than in this moment, when Morgana parts the halves of it away from her front for that groping squeeze that prompts her to surge forward for another sealing of mouths, a kiss she feasts on, unable to stop coming back to those lips again and again as she thrusts her tongue past them for a deeper entanglement. ]