Miho's Room

[twiststheblade]

(OOC: from here)

Miho pushes open the door, and backs into the room, smiling, eyes dark. There is a tiny drop of blood on her lower lip, and she licks it off, red tongue flickering briefly.

The room is sparse, the main piece of furniture being a huge futon in the middle of the room, low posts at it's corners. The window is open, but the room is only pleasantly cool. There's an ashtray and a crumpled soft-pack on the windowsill, but those are the only signs of clutter.

"Coming in?"

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[princessjosiane.livejournal.com]

The silk falls over her eyes, smooth as skin, and she grins, biting her lower lip, letting her teeth sink into it, delighting at the pain. She pulls at the cuffs just a little, just for show, moving into an exaggerated pout while her legs squirm for just a little more contact.

[twiststheblade]

And of course, those white teeth sinking into that red lip spur her to capture those lips with her own, even as the blades in her hands trail teasigly down the blonde's arms.

"So, princess," she says, voice light and conversational even as those featherlight points of blood-warm steel dance across the vulnerable points where blood passes so close the surface that it's very flow is visible, "do you have a name?"

[princessjosiane.livejournal.com]

"I do."

She says it, laughter on her tongue and light in her eyes while the blood pumps pumps pumps her heart thumping, and she can feel the metal like it's already there, like it's already inside. Her legs flit, playing up and down the girl's clad legs, the feel all the fabric all the more real for the fact that she can't see it.

[twiststheblade]

"How nice."

The tip of one knife presses gently under the point of her chin this time.

"And what do I have to do to you to find out what it is?"

Suddenly, the kinife is gone, and the girl is gone, lithely twisting off the bed and landing noiselessly on the floor.

"Hmm?"

Her tone is still light, teasing, but viciously cruel for all that. It's an unusual combination, but it happens.

[princessjosiane.livejournal.com]

There's a gasp and a moan with the pressure and the pleasure gone, and Josiane looks around, trying to see what she can't. The swollen lips form a tight pout, for princesses always get what they want, and don't much care for toys taken away. "All one has to do is ask."

[twiststheblade]

She is answered only by silence.

A long silence.



And then there is a chuckle from the direction of the window, low and throaty, and somehow very loud in the quiet. A soft exhalation, followed by another chuckle.

Then silence for a while.

The next time the chuckle sounds, it's closer, much closer, and the unfortunate scent of burning tobacco permeates the air.

[princessjosiane.livejournal.com]

Josie runs her pink tongue over her swollen lips, her head turning to every sound, every imagined sound. "Sweet thing," she calls out, soft and sweet and quiet. "Why don't you put that away and come back?"

[twiststheblade]

"But I am here," and she is so close that her lips stroke the girl's ear, and her breath is hot across her cheek.

"Besides, no ashtray and," consideringly, and there is a spot of near-burning heat above the blonde's heart, "I wouldn't want to put it out on you. Such ugly scars."

[princessjosiane.livejournal.com]

Such scars wouldn't do, not at all, and Josiane goes deathly still under the cigarette, the only hint that she's still aware her rushing breath and the bite of her teeth into her lip. She keeps from turning her head to get at the girl's mouth, but only just barely.

[twiststheblade]

So there's a chuckle, of feline glee, and a swift movement as the still-burning cigarette is flicked neatly across the room and into the ashtry. If the blonde had been able to see, she might well have been impressed.

Soft lips soothe the slightly reddened spot where the burning ember had not-quite rested, and a teasing light and gentle hand plays over gently defined muscles.

"And it would be such a shame to spoil such beauty."

[princessjosiane.livejournal.com]

Josiane smiles shyly, as a princess does when complimented, though there's nothing shy about her. There's a light gasp and a giggle ass the light touches on her skin -- light touches that are perhaps more tormenting than the rough ones.

[twiststheblade]

Well, that was perhaps the idea, and as the light touches are interspersed with harder ones that become harder and more frequent, the butterfly carresses start to seem even more tender and ghostly for the contrast.

Once again the hands and lips disappear, but before the girl can react to their disappearance, another lithe movement brings the tiny dark-hared form atop her again. This time, there is no barrier between skin and skin, as Miho had obviously taken the time to do more than smoke a cigarette.

[princessjosiane.livejournal.com]

Josiane's smile grows less shy and less innocent and becomes less of a smile as her skin comes alive under the girl's nimble hands and mouth. She squirms, unable to keep still under the sensual onslaught, and when the girl returns, there's a hiss of pleasure and Josie brings her leg up to wrap around the girl's waist.

[twiststheblade]

And there's a press and a wriggle and Miho is spread along her, legs neatly entwined with the longer limbs of the woman beneath her. She buries her mouth in the tender shadowed spot beneath her jawline, and closes her eyes, breath coming fast and shallow.

Two heartbeats thunder almost in time, seperated only by thin walls of bone and blood. Miho stretches her arms up, laying them along the blondes, fingers curling over the black steel of the cuffs.

[princessjosiane.livejournal.com]

At the touch of skin at her wrist where metal meets flesh, Josie's fingers search out the others, trying to get a hold of something. Short and shallow comes her own breath, her heart pounding up in her throat, and she moves as she can, where she can, reaching out blindly with her mouth.

[twiststheblade]

At the grasping fingers, Miho takes pity and slides up, further, tangling her own fingers with the blindly searching ones. And if this has the effect of nestling one firm thigh neatly in between the girl's legs, what of it? And if well-trained muscles in that thigh should happen to clench and soften, surely that is an accident.

[princessjosiane.livejournal.com]

An accident that has Josie writing on the sheets. She squeezes the girl's hands with her own, turning her head to let out a sigh, and is greeted by warm, soft flesh. She sucks a bit into her mouth, working it between her lips and her teeth.

[twiststheblade]

There is a barely stifled moan, and Miho's nails bite into the soft palms of the hands she holds. She bows her head for a moment, then drags herself back down, nails raking their path. Her lips capture briefly bereft ones, and her hands continue down between them, pinching and smoothing and writhing.

[princessjosiane.livejournal.com]

Josie's moan isn't stifled at all; nor is her wimper when her toy is taken away. She writhes, arching up into the places where bruises will soon form against her pale white skin.

[twiststheblade]

The kiss is vicious and hard as they have all been, and her hands are dancing between them but soon kisses aren't enough, and she slides down again, trailing stinging punishing kisses as she goes, until she can replace her fingers with her lips and her tongue.

Fingers bite into white flesh once again, although whether it is to pin the girl down or to hold herself in this place she could not have told you.

[princessjosiane.livejournal.com]

Up higher and higher Josie floats, above the girl's hands even, it seems, pushing and straining to feel the bite of her nails on her skin, anything to ground her, keep her from floating up and away into the girl's mouth, warm and wet and harsh, and Josiane can't keep herself quiet.

[twiststheblade]

Right now Miho's entire world is her lips and hot flesh and nails and skin and bright red half-moon cuts. And screaming is all she wanted to hear, and until screams die away into whimpers she's not going anywhere. Thse handcuffs are so useful, she would reflect if she had the mind to do so.

[princessjosiane.livejournal.com]

All Josie knows is the hot wet flesh against her and the cold hard bite of metal on on her skin and the dig of nails into her flesh. She'd stop to reflect that her throat will be sore later, along with the rest of her, but all she can think is hot white fire flesh and the handcuffs chafe her wrists and she arches up into mouth and teeth scrape and she gives one last scream before she comes crashing back down to the bed, rushing back into her body.

[twiststheblade]

And no she is not kind and no she is not gentle and no she is not stopping. Until there is a please or a begging voice she is staying just where she is, doing just what she's doing, and her timing is perfect.

[princessjosiane.livejournal.com]

Pleasure turns to pain turns to heatpainlovedesire and there are light tears dampening the cloth over Josiane's eyes as her body goes on overload. She opens her mouth and a moan comes out, unintelligable words whispering their way across her tongue and her traitorous body moves, keeps moving.