eldorne_girl | (no subject)

(no subject)

[Her room, their room - Josie opens the door, and Delia steps in as to the beginning of a dance. One step two, spin around with fully, heavy skirts and watch her lover shut the door behind them (not locked, never locked, locked means Delia can't get out, can't breathe)]

[One step two, and Delia curls her arms around Josie's waist and kisses the back of her neck]

Josie...[and her voice is huskier then normal, drawing the princess's name out on her tongue]

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Delia catches her and catches her and always catches her as she catches Delia and Josiane grins, rights them both, and leans in for a kiss, this one tasting of just them.

"You haven't been sad, have you?"

No.

[and it's the truth. She has missed Josie, missed the laughter and the warmth at night, but she hasn't been sad.]

Josie is glad, glad there is nothing making Delia sad, glad to see the smile on her face, glad to have her in her arms, glad. But her eyes twinkle nonetheless, and she brushes a closed-mouth kiss over Delia's lips.

"No need to cheer you up, then?"

Mmmm, nooo...

Josie pouuuuuuuuuuuts and blinks up at Delia with large loving eyes.

[and because Josie is so rarely shorter then Delia, Delia kisses her again]

I'll be sad if you go, if you stop...

Down, down, she goes, down to the floor leaving Delia's luscious lips behind, laying at her feet, blinking and blinking oh so sad. "Then I musn't go."

[her hands following, her small fingers tangling in Josie's golden hair]

Please don't.

"Whatever you ask of me."

She will stay, she will leave, she will go, she will come, oho, there's a light chuckle and her eyes light up as she pulls on Delia's arms, pulls her down to the floor with her.

[she sinks to her knees, her rich (blood) red skirts billowing out like a flower. The red suits her, warming her thick hair (still piled and coiled and neat) and making her pale skin like cream.]

Your ideas from downstairs, perhaps?

"Perhaps." Her eyes flash and she pulls her hands up to mess up the lovely lovely perfect hair, hair everywhere, head shoulders back, hair, and she runs her hands through it.

[her fingers snare here and there on Delia's sometimes-curls, but the lady doesn't care. She just shuts her eyes and parts her lips and whispers]

I am yours

"And I yours" but Delia knows that part and knows it well, for Josiane whispers it to her, even from afar. Light kisses on her lips, and harder then, falling and twirling and rolling until Josie is on top of Delia.

[and Delia just looks up at her, hair spilled across the floor and the bodice pressing against her breasts.]

Miho may have been inexperienced with the ties (or perhaps simply impatient) -- Josiane is anything but. She traces a light finger up Delia's side and finds the end of a tie and pulls on it slowly. She leans over Delia, her hair falling down around her face, her lips brushing Delia's with that wicked smile.

[both of them are talented at ties and ribbons, at pulling the satin free and binding hands and feet. She forces herself to be still, ever the task with the ever active, ever moving Delia, still and patient as her tight dress loosens.]

Slow and steady, long and patient and Josiane sits up with a glimmer in her eye. "Good girl," she says, and runs a light hand over Delia's leg while she lets the loosened ribbon falls to tickle her skin.

Josie...

[just a breath of a name against the air as Delia shuts her eyes and clenches her hands and tries not squirm.]

"Shhhh." A finger falls lightly on Delia's lips, and Josie grins oh so happy so nice so soft and wonderful and she pulls the ties free, running her fingers over the revealed skin. She may not have knives, but just as much torture may be inflicted with hands and mouths, and Josiane leans to hold Delia still against the hard floor as she moves to prove that.

[shhhh, shhhh, little girl and with ragged breath Delia tries to do just that to best of her ability. She can't help but move, though, just a little bit]

Josie feels it and pulls back and her pink tongue peeks out from between her lips as she shakes her head no, no and starts to stand.

[she whimpers, eyes flaring open as she pleads,]

Josie, Josie, please...

"What do I get?" She stands poised over Delia, legs on either side of her waist, a grin painting her face.

What do you want?

[she stays still, oh so still amongst the blood-red velvet, only her fingers moving against the carpet]

"You" she says and this is always the answer, always, but there's more, and she leans down and offers Delia a hand, a hand up, a hand up off the floor, and when she's standing, Josie slides the fabric down off her shoulders, down her waist, down.

[down so it pools at her long, dancer's feet with her petticoats and shift, down so Delia is left standing there wearing nothing but her wealth of chestnut hair.]

Josiane leans forward and takes a taste, must make sure that the drink hasn't spoiled, after all, make sure for a princess always makes sure and she comes up with a smile, oh so satisfied at what she found and draws a hand up Delia's side. The ties on her own clothes are only hastily fixed, and come apart easily when she pulls on them, and she smiles.

[a flash of daring, and Delia moves forward to put her hands on Josie's slender hips and a kiss on the dip of her collarbone]

Josie does not complain this time, and reaches out for Delia's arm, squeezing it, careless of her nails.

"Come" she says and leads Delia to the bed and holds up her arms, motioning for Delia to help her with the rest of her clothes.

[and Delia doesn't mind, either the nails or the tone. Josiane is a princess, only and beloved daughter of the king of the Copper Isles, and she is but a lady of a conquered House...]

[so, she helps shed her lover's clothes, but kisses and teases in her own sweet revenge for before.]

[it is their way]

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