A small gasp escapes Éowyn at the press of Mercutio's thigh: not so much from the physical pleasure of it, which is so muffled under skirt and shift and petticoat as to be almost entirely absent, but from what it signifies. There is an intimacy in it, without gentleness: there is a promise of things to come.
Things like the graze of lips and teeth against where her pulse beats close to the surface. She tilts her head without thinking, to grant Mercutio better access, her finger curling against the other woman's scalp. The thought of letting things progress naturally, of collapsing together here and now, onto the floor in a tangle of limbs and pleasure... it is tempting, and she almost says so, before the healing wound in her side twinges as if to remind her why it is a bad idea.
Bed, then. She cannot quite bear to draw away from Mercutio's mouth, which is so warm and sweet and sharp against her neck; but she does take a step towards the bed, drawing her wife with her.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sforzinda
no subject
Date: 2025-06-13 03:52 pm (UTC)Things like the graze of lips and teeth against where her pulse beats close to the surface. She tilts her head without thinking, to grant Mercutio better access, her finger curling against the other woman's scalp. The thought of letting things progress naturally, of collapsing together here and now, onto the floor in a tangle of limbs and pleasure... it is tempting, and she almost says so, before the healing wound in her side twinges as if to remind her why it is a bad idea.
Bed, then. She cannot quite bear to draw away from Mercutio's mouth, which is so warm and sweet and sharp against her neck; but she does take a step towards the bed, drawing her wife with her.