it felt so good
to run so red.
Anandi, eyes lowered, can taste the satisfaction in the air. It makes her heart race and fill with purpose. She was absolutely built for this; the latest result of generation after generation of refinement, culminating in a beautiful girl built to lodge herself beneath the skin. Stay there, until the moment was perfect and then-- without hesitation-- erupt. It is in her blood to please, to satisfy, to be drawn closer, closer, closer…
Despite the irritation of submission, Anandi basks in the sovereign’s pleasure. A good little wolf. Maybe it was a mistake to bring up the warden then, for the scent of satisfaction takes on a metallic taste. Still-- it was not a real jab, and she had not received a real warning for it. She shifts her weight subtly, drawing ever so closer to the queen. Her queen, she knows. But with this scant space between them it is hard to see her as anything more than a woman.
Anandi swallows the wanting growl that rises in her throat. It is perhaps too easy to forget about politics here. To not just forget about the rules-- but defy them completely. But as much as Anandi was built to satisfy, survival too was coded into her genetics. Not just for herself but for her species.
“They deserve safety,” the sovereign says. Anandi did not know what she had been expecting, but it was not this. A flush of surprise creeps into her delicate features. She was not aware of the weight of this issue until it was suddenly gone, and before she can contain it a sigh of relief heaves from deep in her chest with a soft “oh.” She laughs suddenly, a little nervous and self-conscious and hysteric with relief. It is a flash of girlhood, like taking off a mask for a split second, and even when the moment is gone she can’t help but feel a little giddy. “Thank you.” She presses a kiss to Marisol’s cheek, brief as lighting and soft as rain.
Maybe it was another mistake. She can’t tell anymore. When lines dissolve like sugar on the tongue, who’s to say they’ve been crossed?
And then the emissary pretends the kiss never happened. With all the force of her willpower she refuses to let herself think of the closed door, the warm flesh, the electric air. She ignores how it’s hard to breathe in here, packed in tight with all this tension and so little fresh air creeping in from the cracked window. “So. I was planning to visit Denocte first.” Delumine was introverted and quiet as usual, and Solterran relations seemed… favorable, to say the least. Plus the night court interested her on a more personal level (the markets, the underworld) and she saw nothing wrong with mixing business with pleasure. She suspected Marisol of all people would understand this. “Unless there’s somewhere else you needed me?” And oh, she cannot help herself, a brief glance to the desk slips through her vice-like self restraint.
@
some say the loving and the devouring are all the same thing
☾
