Then without further words, she stretched out, holding her weight to the side, ground the heel of her hand against the fire in Morgana’s groin, teased her fingers over Morgana’s impossibly short cutoff jeans, and nudged her hand up under the frayed denim. When she encountered no underwear, no resistance, nothing but wetness, she gasped and Morgana echoed the sound, pulsed her hips up to meet those prying fingers, spreading her legs as wide as should could and rooting her feet into the ground. The angle was awkward but it was enough, her eager fingers pushing in and pulling away, teasing over Morgana’s greedy, hungry clit, and then diving back into her slick; all the while the woman studied Morgana with eyes so deep and still that Morgana could see herself reflected in them, arching, squirming.
The beat changed, unhurriedly spiraling down from pitched happiness, lowering into something throbbing, steady, warm. Only feet away, a few hollers and catcalls broke the bubble of the wordless stare between the two of them.
Morgana moved to frown at them, to throw out a lazy curse, but the woman shook her head. “Don’t look at them. Look at me.” She swooped down, then, her lips meeting Morgana’s softly, gentling her as her fingers shifted to move deep in her, her hand pushing aside the denim over Morgana’s crotch, wedging the fabric against her sensitive, wet folds and the juncture of her right thigh.
Morgana clutched at the woman’s neck, twisting her fingers in her thick, soft hair that smelled like rain and grass and fireside and marijuana. Tingling was spreading through her twisting body, colonizing her from the arches of her feet, to the sides of her torso, to every single inch of her scalp.
The woman’s fingers were searching inside her, twisting, tapping lightly, when suddenly they pressed against that spot deep deep inside where everything came together, where everything fell apart. Morgana whined, suddenly thrashing under her, and lifted to pull the woman’s bottom lip into her mouth, to suck at her tongue, to clack their teeth together.
Re: while our blood's still young 2/3 (warnings for public sex, and possible drug use)
The beat changed, unhurriedly spiraling down from pitched happiness, lowering into something throbbing, steady, warm. Only feet away, a few hollers and catcalls broke the bubble of the wordless stare between the two of them.
Morgana moved to frown at them, to throw out a lazy curse, but the woman shook her head. “Don’t look at them. Look at me.” She swooped down, then, her lips meeting Morgana’s softly, gentling her as her fingers shifted to move deep in her, her hand pushing aside the denim over Morgana’s crotch, wedging the fabric against her sensitive, wet folds and the juncture of her right thigh.
Morgana clutched at the woman’s neck, twisting her fingers in her thick, soft hair that smelled like rain and grass and fireside and marijuana. Tingling was spreading through her twisting body, colonizing her from the arches of her feet, to the sides of her torso, to every single inch of her scalp.
The woman’s fingers were searching inside her, twisting, tapping lightly, when suddenly they pressed against that spot deep deep inside where everything came together, where everything fell apart. Morgana whined, suddenly thrashing under her, and lifted to pull the woman’s bottom lip into her mouth, to suck at her tongue, to clack their teeth together.
“Yeah?” the woman said against her lips.