"Figured. You don't belong in knots anyway, even if I could just pick you up and carry you everywhere..." A little nip, a little bite. "...Half-tempted just to wrap you in the wings and stick my hand down your pants, bein' perfectly honest..."
"How is that not a kind of restraint? That sounds very. Tight." That's not really the right word, but she's picturing being surrounded on all sides by the dark shroud of those wings and it's...
It would be a good time to mention the whole 'I spent eight months having the life squeezed out of me by the embodiment of claustrophobia'. Except, of course, she doesn't.
A pause. The pause of a woman who is, honestly, not actually used to having to make that clear because her role in bed has usually been a given. Hook-ups have always been a Hunt of their own. "...yeah, might be. Look, I did tell you what most of my hook-ups were like. Sort of."
Erin slips around Daisy, deeper into the cabin, mainly so she can shed her tank top. There's no bra beneath it; she hadn't wanted to bother. "But I do have a couple ground rules. Big one's my hair - do not. Touch my hair, please. Any fun we're having will stop quite fast. Outside of that...you plan on playing with restraints on me? I'm not not into it, I just wanna set expectations."
Daisy lacks any amount of shame in letting her eyes trail over the skin Erin exposes. "...no hair. Alright."
That's... going to be more of an adjustment for her than it has, perhaps, been for others, because there's muscle memory there. Tied not just to simple hook-ups, but to Basira. But she'll restrain it, somehow.
"Restraints... maybe not this time. Not like I have anything like rope or cuffs." ...she pulls a face at herself, for a moment, and corrects to, "...well, rope." Cuffs or similar would be. A bad idea. For her. Probably. "Not sure I'm even strong enough without."
It's hard to say. Her strength is still unnatural, but it's weakening the longer she goes without a successful Hunt. Could she even hold Erin down if she tried? She's not sure.
Erin's mischievous smile becomes a thoughtful expression. She chews her lip for a moment and then decides to just say it: "Daisy...you sure you're into it? 'm ready but not like, if you aren't."
For once Erin isn't deliberately daring a lover to get a rise out of them but that might happen anyway.
There's a flash of confusion in her face. "—what am I doing to make you ask that?"
She can recognise that she's not exactly diving right in the way they did back in the elevator, but she was firmly under the impression that was rather the point. Not rushing. Actually thinking this through. It's... less exciting, that way, perhaps, and not something she associates with casual sex, but it doesn't mean she's not into it.
(It may, also, be the first time she's really had to think about how sex will be in this scrawny, damaged body, but Erin's the one who has fucked her like this, before. It shouldn't matter.)
"I dunno! You seem unsure and I'm overly cautious about that because as much as I hate this fact these -" Erin squeezes her breasts, "- actually are magic in a way that can cause consent troubles. Not passively but like - you know - fuckin' -"
Long sound of frustration. Erin drops her hands. "Maybe I'm feeling awkward myself."
"You were the one talking about us not. You know. Overdoing it. Or whatever!" She throws her arms up a bit, then covers her face to groan. "I don't usually have to do. Slow. Or— careful. I push people against walls, or— or to their knees, or wherever. I'm a Hunter. I pursue. I—"
Honestly don't usually go back for more all that often.
"—you're hot, I want to fuck you, I'm just trying to do what I thought was part of the deal!"
Erin's wings flutter nervously. Deep breath, you got this. "...Listen, it's been. Ten thousand years - not literally - since I was - everyone here's been inexperienced and if we're laying cards on the table I'm a bit scared I won't measure up, alright?"
"Erin. I'm not going to be— comparing you to old one-night-stands, or. Or whatever. Whoever. I don't have some. Rolodex of top ten best hook-ups or." That is an immensely stupid sounding thing to say and it makes her snort at herself for a moment. "Nevermind that, but. Look. I'm. Rusty. Probably. Not like I was getting any when I was living out of a dusty old archive."
Oh that's an opening if Erin's ever heard one. Her voice is full of teasing challenge: "No? No pinning the junior researchers to their desks until they have to go home 'ill'? I'm shocked, my sovereign."
A flap of those wings. Erin hooks her pants with her thumbs.
When her primary associations with the archives are mostly people she absolutely does not want to fuck, that doesn't have quite the impact Erin might be aiming for—her nose crinkles, faintly, at the immediate thoughts it brings to mind—but in a roundabout way it might still work. She has to get the wrong associations out of her head, after all.
Daisy rolls her eyes and crosses over to Erin, reaching up to hook her fingers under her chin and tug at her bottom lip lightly with her thumb. "Maybe they weren't my type."
Her other hand seeks out Erin's heartbeat. Claws drawing over skin even if they can't actually harm it.
That heart is pounding. There's a nervous flutter, yes, a taste of fear not of Daisy but of herself, but Erin's also so very excited; face flushed, breathing quickening. She chews her lip before deciding her mother didn't raise a bitch and nipping at Daisy's thumb with those sharp teeth.
She doesn't want to spoil the moment by saying something stupid.
Better. She likes the sound and feel of that heart pounding away, she likes the little sting of sharp teeth catching her skin. And though she has to remind herself not to just grab Erin's hair to draw her down, instead coaxing her with that hand and stretching the rest of the way, she takes that cue to kiss her, graceless and sharp on purpose.
At the same time, she urges her backwards towards the bed, hand still on her chest and stepping into her.
Erin falls back onto the bed, breath quickening, kissing Daisy back with a meek submissiveness. Her wings flap in vain for balance, but her Mantle is full of smoky crowns.
"Should I strip?" she teases, brattishly. "Or are you going to make me dip across the hall to my room naked after you tear my clothes off?"
"Mmm. Tempting." Hovering over Erin, one knee in the mattress between hers and the other on the outside of her thigh, she hooks a claw into the fabric of her tank top in a way that certainly threatens to tear through. It would be very easy. "Mostly spared you that last time, didn't I?"
That draws a proper smirk onto Daisy's face, one that flashes just a bit of teeth. "Well. If you insist."
With Erin's Aura intact there's no real need to be careful about it, she withdraws the hooked finger sharply enough to leave a short tear then proceeds to grip the waistband and rip the right thigh to fucking shreds with one good tug of those claws.
The rest isn't far behind. And it's clear how much more in her element she is when she's like this, over Erin and getting to be rough somehow.
There are many parts of herself Daisy can never be sure if they're all her, or Hunt. The way it feels to have someone like Erin beneath her, giving in, is one of those things. She has to take a moment to shake the thought loose before she can even distract herself from it by kissing Erin again, still sharp and rough and sloppy.
When she pulls back its to sit back on her heels and pull her own tank over her head, leaving her in a lacy bralette and leggings. She removes neither. She just shuffles forward to press her knee up between Erin's thighs and has to remind herself again not to go for the hair.
Erin's nails scrape down Daisy's arms. God but to just get teased and threatened again - mmf! She bites at Daisy's lower lip, equally sharp, exulting in the feeling.
There's just the barest little catch in Daisy's own breathing at the scraping of nails against skin and those sharp teeth in her lip, a catch that gives way to a low, pleased sounding laugh. She tugs at Erin's lips as she draws, instead, to drag lips and teeth along the path of Erin's jugular, breath warm and teeth sharp and the thrum of Erin's blood pumping pounding in Daisy's head.
"Stay nice. And still," she near growls against her throat, whilst at the same time both clawed hands squeeze Erin's tits and she grinds her knee up ever more deliberately between Erin's legs. Still straddling Erin's thigh, the motion has her rolling her hips down against it for friction.
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hadnoright) wrote2022-11-01 01:56 am
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"Mm." A low noise, a slow breath. "You try restrain me and, forcefield or not? You lose a limb."
She wouldn't get that far, in the state she is, they both know it. But the threat doesn't have to be viable to make a point.
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"How is that not a kind of restraint? That sounds very. Tight." That's not really the right word, but she's picturing being surrounded on all sides by the dark shroud of those wings and it's...
It would be a good time to mention the whole 'I spent eight months having the life squeezed out of me by the embodiment of claustrophobia'. Except, of course, she doesn't.
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The question is light, welcoming - even a little eager.
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A pause. The pause of a woman who is, honestly, not actually used to having to make that clear because her role in bed has usually been a given. Hook-ups have always been a Hunt of their own. "...yeah, might be. Look, I did tell you what most of my hook-ups were like. Sort of."
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Erin slips around Daisy, deeper into the cabin, mainly so she can shed her tank top. There's no bra beneath it; she hadn't wanted to bother. "But I do have a couple ground rules. Big one's my hair - do not. Touch my hair, please. Any fun we're having will stop quite fast. Outside of that...you plan on playing with restraints on me? I'm not not into it, I just wanna set expectations."
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Daisy lacks any amount of shame in letting her eyes trail over the skin Erin exposes. "...no hair. Alright."
That's... going to be more of an adjustment for her than it has, perhaps, been for others, because there's muscle memory there. Tied not just to simple hook-ups, but to Basira. But she'll restrain it, somehow.
"Restraints... maybe not this time. Not like I have anything like rope or cuffs." ...she pulls a face at herself, for a moment, and corrects to, "...well, rope." Cuffs or similar would be. A bad idea. For her. Probably. "Not sure I'm even strong enough without."
It's hard to say. Her strength is still unnatural, but it's weakening the longer she goes without a successful Hunt. Could she even hold Erin down if she tried? She's not sure.
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For once Erin isn't deliberately daring a lover to get a rise out of them but that might happen anyway.
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There's a flash of confusion in her face. "—what am I doing to make you ask that?"
She can recognise that she's not exactly diving right in the way they did back in the elevator, but she was firmly under the impression that was rather the point. Not rushing. Actually thinking this through. It's... less exciting, that way, perhaps, and not something she associates with casual sex, but it doesn't mean she's not into it.
(It may, also, be the first time she's really had to think about how sex will be in this scrawny, damaged body, but Erin's the one who has fucked her like this, before. It shouldn't matter.)
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Long sound of frustration. Erin drops her hands. "Maybe I'm feeling awkward myself."
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"You were the one talking about us not. You know. Overdoing it. Or whatever!" She throws her arms up a bit, then covers her face to groan. "I don't usually have to do. Slow. Or— careful. I push people against walls, or— or to their knees, or wherever. I'm a Hunter. I pursue. I—"
Honestly don't usually go back for more all that often.
"—you're hot, I want to fuck you, I'm just trying to do what I thought was part of the deal!"
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Erin's wings flutter nervously. Deep breath, you got this. "...Listen, it's been. Ten thousand years - not literally - since I was - everyone here's been inexperienced and if we're laying cards on the table I'm a bit scared I won't measure up, alright?"
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"Erin. I'm not going to be— comparing you to old one-night-stands, or. Or whatever. Whoever. I don't have some. Rolodex of top ten best hook-ups or." That is an immensely stupid sounding thing to say and it makes her snort at herself for a moment. "Nevermind that, but. Look. I'm. Rusty. Probably. Not like I was getting any when I was living out of a dusty old archive."
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A flap of those wings. Erin hooks her pants with her thumbs.
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When her primary associations with the archives are mostly people she absolutely does not want to fuck, that doesn't have quite the impact Erin might be aiming for—her nose crinkles, faintly, at the immediate thoughts it brings to mind—but in a roundabout way it might still work. She has to get the wrong associations out of her head, after all.
Daisy rolls her eyes and crosses over to Erin, reaching up to hook her fingers under her chin and tug at her bottom lip lightly with her thumb. "Maybe they weren't my type."
Her other hand seeks out Erin's heartbeat. Claws drawing over skin even if they can't actually harm it.
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She doesn't want to spoil the moment by saying something stupid.
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Better. She likes the sound and feel of that heart pounding away, she likes the little sting of sharp teeth catching her skin. And though she has to remind herself not to just grab Erin's hair to draw her down, instead coaxing her with that hand and stretching the rest of the way, she takes that cue to kiss her, graceless and sharp on purpose.
At the same time, she urges her backwards towards the bed, hand still on her chest and stepping into her.
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"Should I strip?" she teases, brattishly. "Or are you going to make me dip across the hall to my room naked after you tear my clothes off?"
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"Mmm. Tempting." Hovering over Erin, one knee in the mattress between hers and the other on the outside of her thigh, she hooks a claw into the fabric of her tank top in a way that certainly threatens to tear through. It would be very easy. "Mostly spared you that last time, didn't I?"
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"Do it, fucking take me and use me up."
Yep, looks like she's really about to. She can walk of shame back in a blanket or something.
let's just pretend that said pants not tank top lmao
That draws a proper smirk onto Daisy's face, one that flashes just a bit of teeth. "Well. If you insist."
With Erin's Aura intact there's no real need to be careful about it, she withdraws the hooked finger sharply enough to leave a short tear then proceeds to grip the waistband and rip the right thigh to fucking shreds with one good tug of those claws.
The rest isn't far behind. And it's clear how much more in her element she is when she's like this, over Erin and getting to be rough somehow.
Time is fluid here
The thought draws a moan from her throat. She kisses at Daisy's neck, meekly, submissively, like an animal showing its belly.
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There are many parts of herself Daisy can never be sure if they're all her, or Hunt. The way it feels to have someone like Erin beneath her, giving in, is one of those things. She has to take a moment to shake the thought loose before she can even distract herself from it by kissing Erin again, still sharp and rough and sloppy.
When she pulls back its to sit back on her heels and pull her own tank over her head, leaving her in a lacy bralette and leggings. She removes neither. She just shuffles forward to press her knee up between Erin's thighs and has to remind herself again not to go for the hair.
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There's just the barest little catch in Daisy's own breathing at the scraping of nails against skin and those sharp teeth in her lip, a catch that gives way to a low, pleased sounding laugh. She tugs at Erin's lips as she draws, instead, to drag lips and teeth along the path of Erin's jugular, breath warm and teeth sharp and the thrum of Erin's blood pumping pounding in Daisy's head.
"Stay nice. And still," she near growls against her throat, whilst at the same time both clawed hands squeeze Erin's tits and she grinds her knee up ever more deliberately between Erin's legs. Still straddling Erin's thigh, the motion has her rolling her hips down against it for friction.