In The Dark
Fingers cool and crisp as ice slivers raise Lilah's skirt, almost melting at the hotness of human skin. Lilah looks down, seeing just darkness beneath her. Doesn't matter, she knows what's there: Pretty blonde curls, burgundy tank top barely concealing creamy breasts and a taut stomach, black skirt tossed away with lacy underwear. Here, it's all about feel and scent.
And Darla's tongue sliding between Lilah's trembling thighs. Fingers follow, nails scraping Lilah's inner walls, a little blood probably will come out of it, not that Lilah cares.
This time no one is bound. Pity, both like that. Lilah prefers handcuffs, Darla likes long silk scarves she seems to carry almost everywhere. Sometimes Darla brings candles, long white drips of hot wax adorning their bodies and making them hiss in pleasure. Darla's burns are usually gone by the end of the hour. Lilah's burns take longer. But that's alright with her.
She gets off on pain, even her own. Which is probably why she thinks she should have brought the handcuffs she always keeps on her desk. Then again, hands free have their advantages. Like the part where they griped Darla's shoulders and the nails left half moon marks on the flawless skin. A soft moan tells Lilah she's not the only one liking the pain. The human closes her eyes, letting emotions fill her, Darla's mouth teasing her clit, hands inside the warmth. Fuck, right there. That's the spot. Oh, fuck. Fuck. The last one not on her mind but her mouth as her whole body shudders in mind-blowing orgasm.
She opens her eyes to see the lights on, but dim, Darla standing in front of her human lover, licking her fingers. Yep, there is blood in them. Darla moves away and picks up her skirt, reaching inside a hidden pocket and pulling an object with a triumphant smile.
Lilah's handcuffs.
"My turn," she announces.
And the lights go off again one minute later.