gaaaaay | (no subject)

(no subject)

It's early evening as they walk along the shore, the last glimmers of sunlight fading into the sea line like licks of a dying fire. The hem of Rose's gown trails behind her on the sand, swishing airily around her ankles with every step she takes.

There's that shine to her eyes, the way she always gets when she talks about humans -- and it's been there for the last ten minutes, as she recounted in vivid detail her encounter with one particular human man earlier that day. She's made sure to tell Pearl all about it -- his broad shoulders and sun-warmed skin, the way he looked up at her (as they all do) with such endearing awe in his eyes. How he caught and skinned her a deer, which, per her understanding, is one of the greatest romantic gestures humans are presently capable of. It's so interesting to watch them hunt -- a dozen of them couldn't last a second against a single gem, but they make up for their weak psychique and dull reflexes with their own attempts at strategy and cobbled-together weapons.

"And then he kissed me," Rose concludes the story with a light, giddy giggle, and taps a thoughtful finger to her chin as she adds: "A bit rough, but it was charming in its own right, I found. Humans have such fascinating ways of showing affection!"

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Rose's chest quivers with laughter beneath Pearl -- low and rich and utterly endeared -- and her fingertips ease their scratches into lazy loops that swirl down the line of Pearl's spine. Each bump there is so pronounced, pale skin stretching thin over muscle and bone. So lovely and delicate.

Rose draws out the sound on her tongue, curling it up into a sing-song: "Where?"

Pearl arches into the touch, wordlessly seeking.

"I don't-- everywhere, Rose, you're teasing," she says, and theres that hint of an edge to her voice, the one Pearl thinks Rose enjoys in her unfathomable way, somewhere on the long curve between consternation and accusation. Her own hands have come to rest on Rose's hips, lightly squeezing.

"A little," she unabashedly admits, the tip of a thumbnail pressing into the small of Pearl's curved back. "It helps make you honest."

Rose licks at her lips -- a panther lounging in the shade. "Everywhere, though -- that's a good answer." She tilts her head down, lips brushing the outer shell of Pearl's ear. "Where would you like me to start?"

Pearl swallows, then tips her head back, baring her throat. She brings one hand to it, trailing her slender fingers down its curve and into the hollow between her collarbones, close to where her heart is fluttering like an agitated bird between the slats of her ribcage.

"Maybe here...?"

"Very good," Rose praises -- not the choice itself so much as the boldness behind it. There's still hesitation there, true, but beneath it she can feel Pearl's confidence build, bit by tiny bit. She wants to groom it, tend to it like the flowers in her garden, watch it blossom from something small and fragile to tall and proud.

The request is wordlessly obliged, Rose following the path drawn by Pearl's fingers with her mouth -- slower, though, taking in every inch of warm skin between softly-puckered lips. She lingers at her pulse point, feels the staccato thrum of life running through veins, and meets it with a throaty hum of her own. Then Rose parts her lips further, pushing her tongue out against flesh in a lazy, hot swirl.

The remainder of her descent towards the hollow of Pearl's throat is wet and heavy, and rife with detours -- little nips at jawline, teasing the edge of bare shoulder.

Rose likes taking her time.

It's the verbal approval as much as the touch that sends little shudders all the way through Pearl, draws a low noise from her throat as Rose begins to mouth her way downwards. The hum of Rose's voice against her skin is like a song, a tenor note perfectly in tune with the melody vibrating from all the taut chords of Pearl's nerves and muscles, caught in the grasp of the moment. Little stifled gasps escape her throat with every nip and lick, her head thrown back in a vulnerability she only ever indulges in when they're like this. She reaches out her hands to brace herself against the soft, generous curves of Rose's shoulders -- as much of them as she can reach, anyway. Being cradled by Rose's arms always makes her feel small, but a good small: held, wanted, surrounded.

Feeling Pearl's physical plea to be closer, Rose tightens her hold, keeps her steady. Their chests press together, Pearl drawn onto tiptoes as Rose leans further down, so her mouth can reach its destination at last -- closing around the soft dip of flesh between pointed collarbones. She sucks against it, firm pressure without the sting of teeth -- to mark without hurting.

It's a few moments more before Rose is satisfied, breaking her mouth away with a wet pop and a pink crescent of a smile.

"Where next, my Pearl?"

Pearl makes a little murmur of protest when Rose pulls away; then, at the question, opens her eyes and blinks them roundly up at her. Rose is looking at her with that expression, and oh, no. She's going to do this the whole way through, isn't she?

Her thumbs trace nervous, fond circles on Rose's shoulders. When she thinks she's finally caught her breath, she tries, "D-do you really need my instruction for this?"

"Yes," Rose answers simply, her smile curling impish before pressing to the corner of Pearl's lips. "I'll do anything you ask, Pearl." She takes one thin lip between her two plump own, grazes softly across, her breath rippling warm against it.

The teasing has drained from her voice, leaving something thicker and rawer behind: "I'm all yours."

Hearing the change in tone, Pearl sucks in a sharp breath, her fingers gripping tighter. "Anything I want..." she echoes in a whisper, tilting her face upwards as if to chase the ghost of Rose's kiss.

It all strikes her as absurd, suddenly: Rose Quartz, liege of her life, leader of the Gem Rebellion, who bewitches everyone she meets, drawing in devotees and lovers alike with the inexorable gravitational pull of a glowing star. Offering her anything she wants. Her, a pearl. Pearl fights back the urge to laugh, but the corners of her lips quirk upwards into a small smile as she ducks her head. How could she have doubted Rose's commitment to her? (How can she not?)

She looks back up. "I just want you, Rose." Her voice, usually so melodic, is a little hoarse now, shyness tangled up with wanting in her chest and her throat. "You know I'm not good at the...asking, I just, want you holding me, and touching me, and...looking that way you do when you're touching me, and also, anything you want," she finishes helplessly, wishing she had a better answer to give.

"Thank you, Pearl," Rose says, and means it -- it's true, this already is much more than anything Pearl is used to. It must be hard for her, but then, what good would it do to relent now, when she's making such significant progress?

"You're doing so well. It's a very good start." The encouragement is speckled with kisses -- to her neck, her chin, her ear. "But this isn't about what I want. Tell me--" The last kiss is full on the lips, simple but lingering. "Where do you like me touching you best?"

Pearl's glad for the growing darkness that hides her blush a little bit. Not that Rose can't tell, anyway.

She clears her throat awkwardly and tries.

"My gem, and...the mammary glands..." Is that what humans call them? She's worn this body long enough to know it intimately down to the structure of its cells, but she's rarely had to speak it, to name it in words. "And...between the legs." Against her will, her flustered mouth keeps running. "The reproductive anatomy of these forms, while nonfunctional for us in terms of species continuity, retain their erogenous qualities."

Rose's mouth twists and her cheeks puff out with the effort to contain her guffaw, but she can't hold it back for more than a moment before it ripple through her shoulders and throat. So help her, Pearl's adorable.

"Indeed they do," she answers with a puff of breath, willing her features to smoothen before leaning in to kiss Pearl once more -- an apology, this time. Once she feels her begin to relax beneath her pacifying kiss, Rose pulls back.

"All right," she concludes, her eyes crinkled at the edges and glinting teasing-playful. "Then I'll touch you where it feels good. Come here."

Pearl doesn't really need to come here, or do much of anything at all; Rose has already taken hold of her by the hips before lowering herself onto the sand, dress tucked beneath her legs, Pearl pulled down into her lap. With the smaller gem perched atop her thus, the differences in height shift in her favor, and all Rose has to do is lean forward for her mouth to find her pulse point again. She paints a trail of kisses up, takes her earlobe between her teeth -- licking and nibbling and pulling, as her thumbs hook beneath the collarline of Pearl's bodice and and drag the fabric down.

Pearl's brow furrows at Rose's laughter, shoulders slumping a little bit -- why can't she do this right? is it really that ridiculous? -- but she allows herself to be soothed easily enough. The apology that was at the tip of her tongue melts away into the kiss, thankfully forgotten.

"Yes, please..."

She folds her legs with all the grace she can muster as Rose tugs her down. Despite the disparity in their forms they've always fit together well; she curls neatly into Rose's lap, with plenty of room for her slender limbs, plenty of room for warm arms to wrap around her and pull her in tight. Pearl tips her head sideways to allow Rose's mouth better access, eyelids starting to flutter shut. When Rose begins to pull at her clothing, she raises her hands to assist, slim fingers brushing against Rose's larger ones.

"If you tear these again, I'm going to have to shapeshift some more, you know."

"You always pick such light material," Rose tuts, but obliges the reprimand all the same, staying mindful of the pressure behind her fingertips. She likes to get sloppy sometimes, in moments of heat and urgency -- but the night is quiet and cool, and Pearl is so very small in her arms. She'll be gentle, tonight.

The garment carefully peeled away, she sets it aside on the sand. Her hands settle over Pearl's bare waist, buzzing with warmth beneath her palms, so slender that her thumbs nearly touch. Rose lets out an enamored little sigh, brushing circles over the flat plane of her stomach.

"Which do you like more, Pearl? My mouth or my hands?"

"It's easier to--mm--move in," Pearl breathes. She shifts under Rose's touch, putting one hand down to steady herself, curling her fingers in flowing folds of pink fabric.

"Maybe...your hands first? And then, your mouth, later?" With every glance of desire and approval from Rose, it's getting easier to ask, even if her eyes are squeezed shut and her cheeks are still burning furiously.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

(no subject)

SERIOUSLY!

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject