Hotaru
Hope? It’s a laughable notion. Hotaru is quite proud of her stamina, and she is not the type to renege on promises that benefit herself. But correcting Maeve is an inferior use of her mouth, so instead she pulls the Madame over to the Ursur rug, intent on proving her words to be true through actions instead. It’s a temporary annoyance that is rewarded with Maeve pulling her own top free, casting it somewhere beyond the reach of the firelight. Her skin is fair and smooth in ways Hotaru’s is not; her own still beautiful and more warmly toned, but with a few long scars that catch the light and tell unspoken stories of danger and triumph.
Eyes drawn to the steel pierced through Maeve’s nipples, Hotaru’s hands move from her waist to venture towards them. Dragging fingertips in slow, pressing trails up her navel, one hand tracing the last edges of ink with her thumb. Exploring slowly as she leans closer to better allow Maeve to push the straps of her bra down off her shoulders. There is so much to touch that is more than the swell of her breasts or the pebble of her nipples; the dip of her collarbone, the swell of her navel, the long arch of her neck that bears the choker Hotaru had gifted her. It burns a fire of possessiveness in her belly to see it, and she gives a soft noise as she ducks forward to press a lingering kiss right overtop the choker, the swell of her lips spilling over onto skin and pulse alike.
Her hands come to cup Maeve’s breasts, thumbs brushing back and forth over the barbell ends in teasing little flicks. “You’re beautiful,” she murmurs against Maeve’s neck, following the words with a suckle and the pressure of her teeth until a purpling mark is left behind. Trailing the tip of her nose from that point up the column of her throat, she bites firmly on the lobe of her ear and squeezes the flesh of her breasts with both hands. “I want to get my mouth on you so bad. May I?” It’s only good manners to ask first after all.
Eyes drawn to the steel pierced through Maeve’s nipples, Hotaru’s hands move from her waist to venture towards them. Dragging fingertips in slow, pressing trails up her navel, one hand tracing the last edges of ink with her thumb. Exploring slowly as she leans closer to better allow Maeve to push the straps of her bra down off her shoulders. There is so much to touch that is more than the swell of her breasts or the pebble of her nipples; the dip of her collarbone, the swell of her navel, the long arch of her neck that bears the choker Hotaru had gifted her. It burns a fire of possessiveness in her belly to see it, and she gives a soft noise as she ducks forward to press a lingering kiss right overtop the choker, the swell of her lips spilling over onto skin and pulse alike.
Her hands come to cup Maeve’s breasts, thumbs brushing back and forth over the barbell ends in teasing little flicks. “You’re beautiful,” she murmurs against Maeve’s neck, following the words with a suckle and the pressure of her teeth until a purpling mark is left behind. Trailing the tip of her nose from that point up the column of her throat, she bites firmly on the lobe of her ear and squeezes the flesh of her breasts with both hands. “I want to get my mouth on you so bad. May I?” It’s only good manners to ask first after all.
soak me in your moonshine
and fuck me on fire
and fuck me on fire
