I had been thinking of this scene for a while. A minotaur tradition where they break apart their armor/weapons to make a crib for their future children...
Due to the original story being a script format, the narrator is unnamed and nondescript, but she’s heavily pregnant.
Metallic clanging echoed through the house when she entered. Then, it was followed by a meaty smack.
“Chronos’ Balls!” Another smack, then a thud of something hitting the carpet. “Gaea’s Tit!”
Pausing in the kitchen, she double-checked to make sure the burners were off. Whatever had been prepared was still in the pots, but it smelled good. At least she didn’t have to worry about the house burning down.
Sucking in a breath, she set down the groceries and prepared herself for what she was about to find in the second bedroom.
Hunched over the floor was her fiancé. Rosso pulled back, sucking on his index finger. As he cradled his hand, she took in the mess.
There were blood splatters on the floor, but he’d thankfully put down a tarp. Her eyes followed the chaos, seeing a broken screwdriver, warped hammers, splintered nails, and stripped screws. A bag of tools was spilled over the carpet, thankfully none stuck in it.
His project was a pile of scrap metal and leather. It had started to form some sort of foundation, but it wasn’t obvious where it was headed. Papers were scattered all over the outside of the tarp, spared from the mess.
Looking down, she saw the diagrams. They’d been hand-drawn. The pictures were clear enough, showing a breast and shoulder plate, with a few pieces of leather. Apparently, it would form a sort of bassinet that could be converted into a pen. There seemed to be additional instructions written in Ancient Greek, the print big enough for the minotaur to read.
Rosso bandaged his finger, and there were several more dressings on his hand and arm.
“You know, if you wanted a crib for the baby, we could have bought one.” If they could find one big enough it. Getting one custom-made would be costly. She tried to do mental calculations, but her thoughts were interrupted by the occupant of her womb kicking.
Knees weak, she sucked in a breath and put a hand on her stomach. The movement must have pushed on her bladder because she needed to pee.
Once she came out of the bathroom, Rosso was laying on his stomach, having cleaned up the worst of the mess. His chin rested on the back of his hands as he stared at the diagrams.
“It’s tradition.” He said, frowning.
“To brutalize yourself with a hammer?” She looked at the tools, her back hurt at the thought of leaning down and picking them up.
Sighing, he looked up. “No. We break down our armor. Melt it to scrap. Tear up the leather. That way a small piece of us is there to protect the calf. Then, we get new armor so we can be a better fighter for them.” His ears flapped in irritation, tail whipping through the air. She had to sidestep to avoid it.
“I tried with the hammer and kept breaking the nails. I broke the screwdriver and stripped all the screws. And the drill’s too small for my hands.” Sitting up, he rubbed the length of his horns. Squeezing the points, he let out a long breath.
“I wanted to surprise you. But I just made a mess.” He sighed. “The Herd wanted to help, but…” His tail whipped again. “It’s hard enough to move around this place on my own.”
Staring at the scrap, she put a hand on top of his head, fingers tangling in his hair. His ears flapping and he let out a soft grunt of enjoyment.
“Why don’t I help?” She took the remaining nails and frowned. “Are these even long enough…?”
Holding them next to the bandages, she rolled her eyes. No wonder he kept smashing them. They were shorter than his fingers were thick. Some dents in the metal told her he’d tried to hammer without holding them.
Athena had not been his Patron Goddess.
“Are you sure it’s a good idea?” His eyes went to her stomach, ears drooping.
“I’m pregnant, not helpless.” Picking up the diagrams, she tried to match the pieces. “Besides, it’s my baby too.”
“Here.” She passed the papers to Rosso. “You brains. Me brawn.”
He looked at the diagrams, sucking in a breath.
“... I was reading these upside down.”
“I keep telling you that you need glasses.” She chided.
Picking up the least broken hammer, she began to try and make sense of the mess.
“That puff machine... I don’t trust it.” He rested his chin on the back of his hand, picking up the heavier pieces and beginning to move them around. When she shot him a look, his ears flicked back.
“You ain’t helpless, but this is Asterian armor, baby.” He rapped his knuckles on the metal, wincing and shaking his hand. “Heavy and sturdy.”
Rosso showed her what pieces went where, and she went to work. When her hands shook trying to hold something, he’d steady it for her.
The leather was easy enough, but it would go last. Metal to metal was another thing entirely, and she had to throw her full upper body strength into the swing and pray the nail didn’t give out before the armor.
Eventually, she was able to drown out his wincing when she brought the face of the hammer down close to her hands without injury. Her palms ached, but she didn’t want to stop. The armor had been Rosso’s most prized possession. This meant more to him than she could even fathom.
One of the few things he had left from his side of the Blend. And he’d used it to make something new.
They managed to get it looking similar enough to the final picture, albeit more dented and scuffed than probably intended. The family crest was at the head of the bassinet. She’d have to buy blankets and pillows to make the thing actually comfortable for the future occupant.
Putting a hand on the side, she shook it. The structure held. Rosso mimicked her, smiling when it didn’t fall apart. If Earthshaker himself couldn’t break it, then it was safe for a baby.
It was a lot bigger than any she’d seen before. But if Rosso was anything to go by, the baby would be huge. Even at five months, many thought she was due any day. The visits to the doctor had shown a large fetus, but thankfully no horns. Possibly a tail.
The thought of four more months of this…
Sighing, she put a hand to her stomach, letting it rest there.
“Kicking again?” Rosso put his hand on the bump, ears flicking with excitement. Then, he frowned, his disappointment palpable.
“No, just thinking.” She looked at the structure. “Seeing this makes it feel more real, you know?” It was all coming so fast. Nine months had seemed like an eternity, but each day seemed to slip by faster and faster.
Taking her hand, he bent down to kiss it. “I know he wasn’t planned, but between us and the herd, that’s going to be the most loved calf this side of the Blend.”
“So they’re a boy?” She teased.
Rosso shrugged. “Boy. Girl. Something in between, they’re gonna be the luckiest kid in the world.” He chuckled. “If they’re twins…”
She seized the front of his shirt. Despite her own strength being no match for his own, he allowed himself to be pulled so their eyes were level. He held perfectly still so his horns wouldn’t accidentally puncture her.
“If you Cassandra another baby into me, I will make what happened at the Labyrinth look like child’s play.” She released him, “It’s hard enough with just the one.”
Clearing his throat, Rosso smiled apologetically. Then, he snapped his fingers and went to the diagrams. Picking up a folded piece of paper, he turned it over and dumped something into his hand.
“One more tradition.” He showed her four pieces of scrap, grey and small. Well, small for him. “I was going to take these to the silversmith tomorrow.”
“We don’t exchange rings. Isn’t too practical with how much you’re going to be punching and moving things.” He lifted it up and held it in front of his ear, where an earring would go.
“If you want, we can get it engraved, but if we have a matching set, then everyone’s going to know…” He placed two pieces of the scrap in her hand. She turned it over, running her finger along the length.
“I know we’ve been open about the relationship, but this is… It makes it real. And it’s…”
“Important.” She finished, smiling. Putting a hand to her lobe, she nodded. The metal was heavy, but would probably be more manageable post smithing. “Just make sure these won’t rust.”
His eyes widened, and she realized the thought hadn’t occurred to him. Closing his fist, he nodded.
“I’ll take care of it. I promise.” He fiddled with his ear. “I’ve never been pierced before, so it’ll be interesting.”
Taking the metal back from her, he secured them in the envelope and smiled, placing his hands on his hips, looking around the room.
“Hm?” She let her breath out.
“Who’s going to be your fellow sacrifices?” He said it so plainly, she wondered if he’d said something else.
She blinked rapidly, shaking her head. “I beg your pardon?”
“Minos had seven maidens and seven striplings sacrificed to the minotaur each year.” He paused, rubbing his chin. “Or was it nine years?” He shrugged and shook his head. “But it’s a tradition, just a spectacle, and a simple foot race, because... Greek.” He chuckled. “And then I’ll have to carry you to the altar.”
“Am I going to have to run from you with this?” She gestured to her stomach. “I think that’s a short race.” And knowing Rosso, he’d break the venue apart.
Picking her up, he kissed her.
“You know I’d always catch you anyway.”
“Implying I don’t let you.” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “And at the rate this baby’s growing, I’m going to be the size of seven maidens, anyway.”
“Aphrodite would be jealous of your beauty.” He nuzzled her, “She’d send you right to me, intending you to be a sacrifice. But that punishment would be a reward.”
“You’re playing with fire.” She warned, but couldn't help but smile. His mood was a lot higher than before.
He kissed her again, setting her down and pulling out his phone. “I’m going to call the Herd and see if we can get something set up.” Holding it up, he began to snap pictures of the bassinet.
“Going to show them what we did?”
“Yep.” He frowned. “We still have to pick out a name...”
“One thing at a time.”
Lights, Camera, ORC-TION! (part 27)
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 | Part 25 | Part 26 | Part 27 | Part 28 (Coming Soon)
Author’s Note: I didn’t feel up to writing lyrics, but the song I had in my head while writing this one was Knock on Wood, the Easy A version and Amii Stewart’s version. Just more of the former for style, though.
Summary: With medical debt looming over her head, Avicia Thorn can’t rely on her cam career to make ends meet. She applies for a slightly-better-than-minimum-wage data entry position at a motion picture production company.
On her first day, she stumbles onto the illustrious Kahdreg Vidaroc looming over the HR Recruiter, making demands. By the time she stumbles out of the office, she is Vidaroc’s new personal assistant. Whether she likes it or not.
Her pay gets even better when she becomes Vidaroc’s “girlfriend,” a ploy meant to stave off unwanted attentions from an highly influential siren investor. Farce doesn’t keep feelings at bay as they play pretend.
“Welcome to the stage Temma Tacion!”
Lights dimmed onstage and a hush fell over the crowd. Pretty impressive, in Avicia’s opinion, given how rowdy and loud they were earlier.
The queen strutted onstage and everything about her shone. Gold stained her eyelids and lips and her cheeks sparkled with glitter. She even wore decorative golden caps on her tusks.
Her massively high and fountainous white-blonde hair swung behind her as her heels click-click-clicked across the floorboard. She smiled and waved, blowing kisses to people in the audience. One particular fan received a wink, which made the recipient giggle and blush. Amusement twitched at the corners of Avicia’s lips.
The queen’s gold dress - a skintight number with a sweetheart neckline and wide flared skirt - glimmered under the lights. Even gold sparkled in her black stockings, which clung to nicely shaped legs until the eye reached her feet. On which Temma wore golden stilettos with such tall skinny heels that Avicia’s admiration was instantly bought.
Music piped through the speakers, a sultry rendition of an old song. Avicia wasn’t exactly listening to it, more interested in what the performer was about to do. Likely lip syncing, she guessed, perhaps with audience interaction. Judging by the rapt attention the audience gave Temma, Avicia wondered just how interactive it’d be.
As anticipated, Temma’s movements snapped to the thumping rhythm, her choreography crisp and sharp. Every step was purposeful and confident, her gaze moving over the crowd as she lip synced. Temma’s own hands slid down her body, following the edges of her form, as she swayed slowly. Swinging hips turned to a salacious thrust, right as a heavier beat dropped. Someone in the audience gave a whoop, while a few whistled.
It was about that time Temma’s focus fell to Avicia, and she suddenly realized.
Avicia’s eyes widened and Temma’s smile quirked at the corners. A familiar grin that sent a lick of heat down Avicia’s spine. Heat flashed through Avicia, only worsening when Temma click-click-clicked her way down the stairs in those damned heels.
And the worst was Temma didn’t gravitate toward Avicia right away. Oh no. The queen was letting Avicia dangle. She made pitstops. Bending over other patrons or pulling someone to their feet and giving them an appraising look, before shoving them back into their chair.
While Avicia was still trying to resuscitate her flatlining brain, the queen advanced on her. Temma approached, a mock-critical look in her eye. All the while, Avicia could only stare, wide-eyed, up at her. And there was plenty of up to go, since the naturally tall orc gained half a foot in those heels.
Catching Avicia by her chin, Temma’s strong fingers pressed up, coaxing Avicia to her feet. She followed the silent order, face aflame and heart pounding. Others were watching. In the slurry of her broken mind, Avicia could only imagine what they thought. Was this abnormal for Temma’s show? Were they jealous or just aching with curiosity over what would happen next?
Temma turned Avicia away from her, but her arms quickly caught the human. Avicia leaned back against the orc as Temma stooped lower. She realized Temma was singing the words softly under her breath. Low and soft, making Avicia’s body tingle as the vibration entered her ear.
One of Temma’s hands reached down, pressing along Avicia’s thigh. Crooked fingers snagged along the already torn tights, the sensation sinful against her skin.
Her other hand cupped at Avicia’s throat, forcing her to look upward as long fingers teased across her lips. That is, until Avicia parted her lips, taking one digit into her mouth. Closing her eyes, Avicia’s tongue teased along Temma’s fingerprint.
At a nearby table, someone hushedly hissed beneath the music, “Do they know each other?”
“If they don’t, I bet they will soon,” their companion replied, a grin evident in their voice.
Temma abruptly pulled away from Avicia, leaving the human feeling cold. She half turned to face the queen, curious as to what would happen now. The orc stood there, hand outstretched and that half-cocked grin curling at her gold lips. Wanting to see how this would play out, Avicia dropped her hand into Temma’s, only to be led back toward the stage.
The queen glided up the stairs, backwards in the heels, coaxing Avicia to follow with a firm grip. One of Temma’s fingers brushed at Avicia’s palm, eliciting a slight shiver. It took Avicia much too long to realize where she was being led. As the music lifted once more, a final crescendo sounding as Temma Tacion tugged the human a little more forcefully behind the curtain.
Avicia couldn’t help the surprised yelp as she stumbled into the darker recesses. Behind her, the music dwindled while Temma leaned out of the curtains, offering some cheeky little last theatrics, before ducking behind the shroud. On the other side of the fabric, the crowd whistled and clapped, a few people laughing. Undoubtedly at the predicament the “unaware” patron had gotten themselves wrapped up in. Or so they imagined.
With no further words exchanged, Temma led Avicia through the cramped and winding backstage.
After a quiet half-beat of observation - noting how Temma’s shoulders held stiff and the nervous dig of her tusk against her own cheek - Avicia decided to prod. “So, she/her pronouns when you’re like this?”
Temma briefly glanced at Avicia, before giving a nod. The human couldn’t quite tell, in the dark of the back area, if the orc was blushing. She had a suspicion she was, though. So, Avicia continued to prod, a slow smile tilting at her lips, “And is Temma just for the stage or…”
“Just the stage,” answered Temma, quietly as she pushed a door open to a dressing room. She waved Avicia in, adding in an even softer tone, “Though I do like going by Kay when I’m like this.”
A brief flash of Kay’s acquaintance, Raphael, using said name brushed through Avicia’s mind. She gave a nod as she entered the dressing room. “Ah, that makes sense.”
The dressing room was about what Avicia expected. Bare brick walls and red carpet with a multitude of clutter everywhere. To the right, a large vanity sat, with a huge mirror outlined in lights and an array of cosmetics waging battle for surface area on the table. Other than the chair in front of the vanity and a lumpy old brown couch, there wasn’t many other places to sit. To the left, a clothing rack stood, weighed down by an array of costumes. On a shelf above the clothes, blank mannequin heads sported hefty wigs. Faintly, Avicia wondered if the items were Kay’s, belonged to other performers, or back-ups for performers dealing with costume malfunctions.
Avicia turned at the sound of Kay’s voice, inclining her head toward the other woman. Kay still stood near the door, all confidence from the stage missing. She couldn’t bring herself to meet the human’s eyes as her nails absently scratched against her stockings.
“How about you sit?” Avicia waved a hand to the chair in front of the vanity, her neck aching from craning to look up at the orc.
“Okay.” The tone in Kay’s voice softened, prepared for the worst. Now that she was away from the stage, away from the crowd who crowed for Temma Tacion, her nerves were returning en masse. She wondered if the outfit had been too much or if Avicia was irritated with earlier secrecy or… There were too many concerns for Kay to focus on, so their body just headed toward the chair, lowering themselves as daintily as possible.
Kay’s sudden carefulness made Avicia grin. One hand braced against the arm of the chair, her fingers catching Kay under her chin. Tilting her face up, Avicia leaned a little closer, her voice low but tone indecipherable, “Stop staring at my boobs.”
Her eyes instantly widened, heat flashing across her face. “I wasn’t-! That wasn’t what I wa-!”
Avicia cut off Kay’s stammering, quickly dipping her head down to catch her lips against the other woman’s. A brief microsecond of surprised tension bled away to relief as Kay’s shoulders sagged. Her eyes closed, pressing into the kiss. Kay’s arms curled around Avicia’s middle, tugging them closer together as the kiss slowly deepend. Avicia allowed herself to be pulled into the waiting lap, pressing herself against the familiar body, the familiar heat.
When Avicia broke the kiss, she could feel Kay’s lipstick smeared over her own lips.
“A kiss is not really an answer to my question,” the orc replied, cheeks darkened with a flush and a teasing pout curling at her gold lips.
“You didn’t really ask a question, you just said ‘so…’” Avicia grinned.
Kay groaned, letting her head fall forward, until she - completely unintentionally - buried her face in Avicia’s cleavage. Unintentional as it was, the orc didn’t move.
Avicia’s hands moved along the orc’s shoulders, rubbing consoling circles. Tense muscles twitched under her touch. This had been a big step for the orc, Avicia realized, just as her own reveal was a vulnerable admission for herself. With a sigh, Avicia relented on her merciless teasing. “I like you. No matter whether you’re Kahdreg or Kay or whatever pronouns you’re going by. The youness is still there and that’s who I like.”
The orc looked up from Avicia’s breasts, cheek smooshed against the warm soft skin. Avicia could tell another line of considerations swirled behind her eyes. She wasn’t altogether surprised when Kay sat upright again, a serious and hesitant expression pinching at the corners of her face. “And if I want to go by Kay full-time?”
The words had dangled heavily in her gut, waiting to come out. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to be Kay all the time, but the question always came up in her head. What if whoever she was with couldn’t accept Kay all the time, after spending most of their time with Kahdreg? Hell, she felt brimming with luck to have gotten this far with Avicia. And this last question might be what pushed that good fortune just a little too far.
“I’ll still like being with you.” Avicia gave a shrug, faintly noting the returned delight in Kay’s eye. But she made a contemplative sound, her head tilting to the side as she teasingly chuckled, “Although, your skill in heels is pretty damned impressive. Up those stairs and backwards in sixers? You kill me. I might have to retire my own heels in shame.”
Kay snorted, a bashful grin curling at her lips as she leaned her forehead against Avicia’s. “I practiced that for days.”
“Did you now?” Avicia drew closer to Kay, her lips ghosting against the orc’s with every word.
“Mh-hm,” Kay breathed, just before catching Avicia’s lips in a kiss. Gentle, smoldering heat crawled over the two as they kissed. Avicia rocked against Kay, hands stroking down her shoulders and arms, before backtracking to up her neck and cradle her jawline in hand. Leaning back in the chair, tugging Avicia with her, Kay enjoyed the feel of her body beneath her own hands. The soft curves of Avicia’s sides, the scratch of the tights against her own palms, the bared part of Avicia’s upper back in her strapless dress. Kay slipped her fingers beneath the fabric, her fingertips tingling at the soft flesh. In return, Avicia gave one of her soft breathy gasps into the kiss, back curving into the touch.
That sound stoked something in Kay and, combined with the relief of not holding any part of them back, she wanted more of Avicia. She wanted to feel bare skin under her hands and a writhing body against her body. She wanted to taste the human woman in every way imaginable. With her core flaring with heat, Kay abruptly stood, a firm hold on Avicia’s rear as she never broke the kiss. A startled gasp left Avicia, her arms going around the orc’s neck to steady herself as she broke the kiss.
It took little time for Avicia to realize Kay was taking her to the vanity. Kay swiped one arm across the vanity table, still holding her human lover with one arm. The clatter of the bottles and containers made Avicia’s heart stutter, excitement flaring through her. Luckily, nothing seemingly fell, but all worries of that dissipated as Kay settled her onto the now cleared area, bearing down with a kiss once more.
Avicia whimpered against Kay’s lips, gasping lightly as the other woman’s hands both tugged the top of her dress down while pushing the hem up. The top of the dress proved ornery, but Avicia shivered as ambient air met more and more of her stockinged thighs. Kay abandoned the ornery neckline, her now free hand going to the back of Avicia’s head, cradling it as the kiss became more desperate. Heated breaths and writhing tongues making the heat at both their cores spike. The hand at Avicia’s thighs stroked further up, gravitating toward the warm, wet heat emanating from the crux of her legs.
Kay broke the kiss, pulling back a little to smirk down at Avicia. Their fingers pressed a little harder against the fabric of the tights, against the woman. From what she could tell, there was no additional fabric beyond the stockings. “No panties?”
Avicia shook her head in response, biting her lip to keep from moaning as Kay’s nail traced her seam.
“Good, makes this easier.” With that, Kay’s acrylic nail dug into the tights, easily rending a tear into the delicate material. A hot shiver flared down Avicia’s spine and a gasp left her lips as Kay tugged the hole wider, cooler air hitting her bared lower lips. Gently, the orc slipped from Avicia’s hold, forcing the human to lay back on her elbows.
Avicia watched, with heart pounding and hitched breaths, as Kay yanked the bottom of her golden dress up and shoved her tights down. The desperate movements delighted Avicia, knowing just how badly Kay wanted her stoked her own need.
Freed from the confines of clothing, Kay’s cock bounced out, stiff with desire. The breath in Avicia’s lungs flamed, memories of the last time she’d seen that bit of Kay’s anatomy swarming her brain. When Kay pressed her rod along Avicia’s slit, they both arched into the touch, lightly groaning. As Kay began to roll her hips, sawing her shaft along the moist labia, Avicia squeezed her thighs tight around the member, eliciting a groan and a jerk of hips from her companion.
Avicia’s teeth dug harder into her bottom lip, struggling against the heated bliss of Kay rubbing against her, between her thighs. Just the right angling and Kay would delve into her, bringing that delicious warmth closer to Avicia’s core. The friction made coherent thought slippery, but Avicia somehow managed.
If the two of them started something, Avicia wasn’t sure she’d have the willpower to stop. She barely had the power now, but she had to. Her part wasn’t yet done and she didn’t want anything to be standing in the way, next time they were together.
“I didn’t practice anything for my revelation,” she gasped out suddenly, breathing ragged at the edges.
The orc’s attention shifted from where the head of her dick peeked out from between Avicia’s plush thighs to Avicia’s flushed face. Blinking back the hormonal haziness, she slowly recalled what they had been talking about earlier.
“Do you need to show me?” Kay’s eyebrows ticked upward, a little surprised that Avicia still felt a need to show her whatever it was she had kept secret. With a hand motioning to her own, gold-clad self, she added, “Is it really bigger than this?”
Avicia snorted and rolled her eyes, rocking her hips against the cock still pressed against her. “Cute double entendre.”
A groan echoed through Kay, back curling as pleasure flashed up their body, before a shameless smile split across her lips. “I try.”
Avicia’s mock unamusement melted as she sighed and shook her head. Despite the smile still lingering on her lips, Avicia’s tone softened, “My secret… well, it might change how you feel about me, so yeah, I still want to show you.”
Which made their current pose rather… awkward. Avicia pressed her lips together, trying to smile though familiar apprehension prickled in her chest. Part of her rallied against herself. This might be the last time Kay wanted this, wanted her. She should’ve taken her blessings and ran with it. But she just couldn’t.
Kay’s lips pursed into a pout. The happiness was still churning inside Kay and she wanted to celebrate. “Can’t you just tell me?”
“Nope.” Avicia pushed herself higher up on the table, tapping Kay on her nose, grinning as the orc added a wrinkle to her expression. “I might not have practiced anything, but I did make preparations.”
At that reminder, Avicia glanced around the room until she spotted a clock. She did still have to do her makeup, squeeze into her clothes, and other prep work she may have missed earlier. Before Kay could open her mouth again, could mutter dissent or a compromise, she cut her off, “Speaking of which, I should probably go.”
Kay heaved a sigh, shoulders sagging. Though she wanted to push, wanted to put actions to her relief, another part of her knew this was important to Avicia. Just as her little show had been important to show the human woman.
With grudging movement, Kay slipped from between Avicia’s thighs, and both women straightened out their clothes. As they reaffirmed when Kay would head over to Avicia’s, the human gathered up her things.
Before exiting the dressing room to traverse her way back through the club, Avicia turned to the orc once more. There was a beat of temptation. A moment where, if she chose to, Avicia could return to their touches and kisses and bliss. But she held firm against herself.
Instead, she wiggled her index finger in a ‘come here’ gesture at Kay. As the orc stooped, Avicia grabbed her by the sides of her face, planting one last kiss on her lips. When the parted, Avicia lingered close so her words could buzz against Kay’s still parted lips. “Maybe we’ll have better fun later.”
“Oh, I intend on it,” Kay growled, arms quickly clasping around Avicia, pulling her close. The human gave a squeal as Kay’s lips caught her neck, nipping lightly along her throat. Renewed embers of passion clawed through Avicia’s center. All she wanted to do was give in. To let Kay leave red welts on her neck and venture lower and lower until they were, once again, caught in the thralls of temptation.
With a laugh - and painful self-discipline - Avicia wiggled in Kay’s grasp, giggling and insisting she had to go.
It was music to Kay’s ears and all she wanted to do was continue the onslaught. To leave those burning marks along Avicia’s skin and make the woman moan and gasp and scream. To have her trembling against her, flexing in pleasure. But Kay released Avicia, much to her hormones’ annoyance.
The two parted ways until they could meet, once more, at Avicia’s apartment.