[ She keeps saying she shouldn't, and were she to stop, and ask, Akuwa would have immediately pulled away, were Hayame to even truly mean it. Were she to stop her ministrations, or give an indication that she meant this, she would have, but Hayame's fingers still move, and her words are swallowed by Akua's skin, sharp teeth that pressed and scraped a line down her neck and along her collarbone. Akua's body moves, and arches to meet hers, her fingers stop, when Hayame's own slip into her heat.
Gods below she had gotten bolder. Akua doesn't know how to describe what it is, to see her blossom and be guided to a place where she accepted herself, and accepted what she needed, and took it. Perhaps she would not get what she needed from doing this with Akua, but she liked it, and that made it better for the Praesi as well. Her mouth opened with a soft gasp, a slight low moan. She would not stop, though, Hayame deserved pleasure too, even as she Gave.
Her fingers returned to their slow motions, though now punctuated from gentle scrapes to ministrations on her hardening peaks, gentle pinches that played with tension, finding what would work for Hayame, what would make her moan, or twitch. Her golden eyes were open, though hazy, and her lips curled as she watched her, her head tipped downward as Hayame focused on her collarbone, and the lace brushed against her clit. She moaned, the deliberateness of it was... astounding, and she could feel the flush on her cheeks, and the lace of her dress elsewhere tugged, and made her feel —
Ah — it was good, and one of her fingers drew away from her breast to arch, and drag against the air.
Which would seem odd, if it were not for the fact that a ghost of a touch brushed against Hayame's flank, teasing, promising. ]
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Gods below she had gotten bolder. Akua doesn't know how to describe what it is, to see her blossom and be guided to a place where she accepted herself, and accepted what she needed, and took it. Perhaps she would not get what she needed from doing this with Akua, but she liked it, and that made it better for the Praesi as well. Her mouth opened with a soft gasp, a slight low moan. She would not stop, though, Hayame deserved pleasure too, even as she Gave.
Her fingers returned to their slow motions, though now punctuated from gentle scrapes to ministrations on her hardening peaks, gentle pinches that played with tension, finding what would work for Hayame, what would make her moan, or twitch. Her golden eyes were open, though hazy, and her lips curled as she watched her, her head tipped downward as Hayame focused on her collarbone, and the lace brushed against her clit. She moaned, the deliberateness of it was... astounding, and she could feel the flush on her cheeks, and the lace of her dress elsewhere tugged, and made her feel —
Ah — it was good, and one of her fingers drew away from her breast to arch, and drag against the air.
Which would seem odd, if it were not for the fact that a ghost of a touch brushed against Hayame's flank, teasing, promising. ]