twiststheblade (
twiststheblade) wrote2006-10-03 03:19 am
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Miho's room is, indeed, much more personal than the last time Mary Anne saw it. It's still stark and white - white walls, white sheets and comforter on the low futon - but now there's also a deep pile rug (also white, of course), on the blonde floorboards, and an enormous and extremely comfortable (white) leather bean bag sofa with a coffee table in front of it.
A book-case at one end of the bean bag has an eclectic collection of books, graphic novels and movies, and there's a small (digital) sound system next to the television. A few half-finished projects are lying on a neat desk. In other words, she looks like she's moved in, not as if she expects to leave at any moment.
A book-case at one end of the bean bag has an eclectic collection of books, graphic novels and movies, and there's a small (digital) sound system next to the television. A few half-finished projects are lying on a neat desk. In other words, she looks like she's moved in, not as if she expects to leave at any moment.
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So she does.
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Instead, she stretches a little against Miho, and if her thigh should happen to slide between the other girl's legs, it's purely accidental.
Maybe.
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Of course, now she has a slight dilemma. Mary Anne is still wearing her jeans, and Miho does not have her hands free.
What's a girl to do?
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Mary Anne shifts her leg again to aid in the decision making process.
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So, she makes a noise that can only be said to be a growl, and in one fluid movement flips them over, and slips down Mary Anne, pausing to flick the button on her jeans before yanking them off. The finest executor of the table-cloth trick ain't got nothin' on her.
She stands at the side of the bed for a moment, grinning.
"Much better."
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"That would be true if you weren't all the way over there..."
With simply acres of bed in between--woe.
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"Where were we?"
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A quick twist brings them back into their earlier position, only now Mary Anne's hands are free. Free, for example, to retrieve the knife from beneath the pillow.
She taps the point once in the hollow of Miho's throat. "I'd recommend keeping still."
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She is keeping very stll, dark eyes wide, lips slightly parted.
"Yes, mistress."
She's joking. Mostly.
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"No need to be so formal, sweet."
She ducks her head and kisses Miho, the knife resting against her throat.
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She runs her free hand down Miho's side fingers tracing over her hip. This is much more comfortable now that her pants aren't in the way. She should thank Miho for getting rid of them.
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Perhaps Mary Anne can think of a good way to say thank you?
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She shifts her weight off of Miho, but keeps the knife where it is.
"Keep--"
Kiss.
"--still."
Bite.
And the hand on her hip slides over and down.
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Her breath does hiss a little between her teeth, but that, and the darkening, even further of her eyes, are the only indications that she feels anything. Quite a challenge to get her to move, really. Especially when she's been told not to.
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The pressure elsewhere does not.
Let's see just how still she can be.
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Very still.
Until the breath catches in the back of her throat and her eyes flutter.
"Cruel."
It's gasped. But she still hasn't moved.
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"Only because I care."
She draws the knife away and rests her head on Miho's shoulder, lips brushing her ear.
"You can move, you know. I won't mind."
This may even be true.
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"Love you."
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"Love you too, sweet."
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"Don't stop."
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"Not going to."
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broken by a gasp
"--you."
Her back is arched, now, almost inhumanly far, tendons standing out. The muscles of her legs and belly are taut, corded, and she turns her head that last fraction, pressing her lips to Mary Anne's forehead.
One last gasp, that's almost a cry, before she collapses, suddenly like a doll with it's strings cut. Both hands relax, one lying limp, the other making the smallest of movements to cup the back of Mary Anne's head.
Still again. Shaking, only slightly.
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"Shhh. You're welcome."
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"Just let me get my breath back."
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