alcina. (belonging)
fem. reader
you are an angel amongst mountains of silk.
the soft of your hair rests loosely, untied or tucked, flyaways aplenty from the static of her sofa pillows surrounding your tiny, wonderful body. the nightgown you wear, deep, dark as freshly pressed wine, sits low upon your shoulders, exposing delicate, supple skin waiting, wishing to be devoured. she almost hoped you meant it a distraction, mischief hidden beneath innocence. but you watch her dress for her family meeting with earnest, curious eyes, no such gleam of trouble anywhere to be found.
alcina adored you.
“pet, don’t you have some resting to do?” she says, a trace of tease in her strong voice. she stands before her dressing mirror, catching your eyes in the reflection. her hands smooth the sides of her dress, white as snow, her tint of skin, taking pleasure in how eagerly your gaze follows. “i won’t be long, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
your chin lays tilted on the settee’s armrest, a sideways view still plenty pleasing. she feels your eyes linger on her undone face, her natural self on display. alcina pretends not to notice.
“may i help you with your makeup?” you ask.
she turns to you, shocked. her expression must betray otherwise, or be more severe than she’d realized, for you shrink back and avert your eyes away. “oh, i’m sorry, i’ve misspoken—”
alcina is quick to wave you off, tutting her apology. “my dear, you surprised me, is all. i thought you liked watching me apply.”
“i do! it’s-it’s just…” you say, blinking up at her like a cherub from a renaissance capture, sweet and rosy. “at the very least, i’d like to choose a lipstick for you, if it’s quite alright.”
there’s a familiar pull of skin, crinkles and laughlines accompanying her ardent smile. “come now, it’s more than alright.”
her powder smells of rosewater and talc. it falls like stardust upon you, landing on dolce lips and fluttering lashes.
it is commonplace for alcina to situate you on her lap as she goes about her makeup routine, a process long enough to warrant your presence being. the time is spent watching her work, holding brushes or palates for her to choose between, and the occasional touch of lips exchanged.
you know to be patient, and keep still.
with a final run of a brush over her eyelids, she seals the look of her part, taking a moment to examine herself in her vanity’s reflection. she tries not to chuckle at the way you squirm with excitement, now knowing the finishing touch was all yours to claim. she calms you with a hand brushing over your waist. with the other, she reveals to you her drawer packed full with lip colors of every kind, from the peachiest pink to the deepest violet.
“the honors, girl.”
you trace indecisive lines over bullets of every size and shape. you worry for time, shown through quivering hands, but alcina’s touch splayed across your back is patient, watchful. she’s enjoying this, your eager, careful wish of adorning her. time taken is for her sake.
you uncap a bullet to find a bright, fiery shade of scarlet.
“this one.” you decide, holding it up for her to see. “if it’s all the same to you, mistress.”
she nods an approval, then eyes you with a calm, amused smile. “you know i trust you’ll see me off best, dear.”
you swivel around in her lap, until your legs hang over her thighs, your little arms steadying yourself with the help of her wide, powerful shoulders. alcina does not miss how longingly you gaze at her décolletage, how the static white of her skin differs from yours. her large hands settle themselves upon your thighs, your nightgown exposing the soft, sensitive flesh with the lift of your movements.
she smells the heat of blood pulsing between your ribs.
“may i?” you ask, in a breathless sort of voice.
“please do, lest i arrive fashionably late.”
the gentle way you cup her face almost makes her laugh. you, with hands the size of rosebuds, your very being no larger than one of beneviento’s dolls. with concentration lacing your brow you focus on dotting her lips alight, creamy color bright against her skin. it resembles greatly the bite of blood, or the homemade wine she tastes of. it takes all you have not to lean in for one.
“you’re lovely.” you say, meek as a lamb. you click the bullet in place with a snap, holding it up for alcina to take. she does, but clasps her hand around your arm for a good while.
“such a sweetheart.” she purrs, eyes crinkling with her signature dazzle. “i won’t be long, you hear? but i still want you in bed by the time i get back. rest, rest, rest.” with the same hand alcina lowers you to the ground, paying another look at her reflection before standing upright. she watches you, raising a brow, until you scurry off and up her bed, showing your usual obedience. she has no reason to worry.
“be safe, mistress.” you whisper beneath velvet and lace.
alcina beams with a grin of pleasure. “always.”
her bedroom doors slam close behind the exit of her gargantuan being.
with a loud click, they are locked shut.
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