Inara had had the girl minding the door to Lady Sally's call for a driver to take her to Susan's home. The girl could scarecly keep her mind focused onwhat she was doing for Inara looked stunning. Moreso than anyone had ever seen her since she arrived, and that was saying something
( ... )
Susan debated over what she would wear for far longer than should have been necessary. On the one hand - they're not going out. There's little point dressing up if they don't plan on leaving the house, and she doesn't want Inara to think she's trying too hard.
On the other hand, there's an impression to be made when Inara opens the door, and if Susan looks casual it might imply that she wasn't taking this particularly seriously, or that she hadn't been anticipating it with every breath in her body.
Ultimately, it comes down to the fact that Susan can't imagine Inara looking anything but spectacular. She hadn't been going clubbing the night they met, she'd just been out for a walk, and if that's how she looks ordinarily... Susan could be justified in putting a fair amount of effort into her appearance.
Her own dress is also red, an Elie Saab creation with a shockingly low neckline, the halter-neck style skirting just above her nipples. Last time they'd met there was hardly any skin for Inara's fingers to ghost over, and she doesn't
( ... )
Susan looks ravishing in red with her pale skin and raven locks. Inara can scarcely take her eyes off of the vision standing before her.
She let's Susan take one of the bags, the one held close to her with the candels in it, and she feels he young womans fingers brush her bare shoulder ever so lightly. The touch sends every hair on Inara's body on end.
PArt of Inara wants to drop the bottle of rice wine and rip off that exquisite chiffin creation and ravage the pale skin just underneath it. But Inara also knows, that women are different from men in the simple fact that desire begins in the mind and that women are seduced not by mere physicality but from mental stimulation more than anything.
She leans in and plants a butterfly soft kiss on Suan's cheek in greeting.
"Susan," she begings, crossing the threshold into Susan's small, but gorgeous apartment. "You look delicious."
The fact that it was on the cheek was less expected, and part of Susan wants to cry out in protest, wants to...
By the Lion's Mane...
Inara's walked past Susan, displaying the perfect, golden curve of a very, very bare back, and the shining red fabric that covers what can only be described as a heart-shaped bottom. Susan didn't think women's asses were ever actually heart-shaped. A trick of the poets, but not like this not in real life
( ... )
As Inara turns, Susan's hand slides along her back, until the edge of fabric reminds her she's lingering far too long for decorum. They're not here to be decorous, though, and so Susan's fingers continue their glide, jumping the brief distance to Inara's elbow and sliding up the underside of her forearm, until she reaches the hand clasping the bottle.
Her other hand rises to take it, allowing Inara's hand to fall into hers as she replies, her voice warm and full of promise. "It's a pleasure I've never had, Inara... but I have every faith this isn't the first new pleasure you will introduce me to. If I might ask how it is served...?"
Inara smiled. "While sake can be served hot, the best sake is always served chilled, but not over ice."
Inara did not want to break contact with Susan. I t seemed so strange to Inara for someone she just met to have such a hold on her already. Her voice spoke of such promise, and it made Inara's spine tingle and her blood boil. "I believe that there is nothing I could introduce you to that would not be pleasurable, Susan."
"I shall set it to chill, then," Susan murmurs, knowing that moving to the freezer will mean breaking contact with Inara, surprised that she cares that much.
Inara's words arc up her spine, a thrill of excitement. She hasn't felt like this - nervous but hopeful, anticipating something she has no grounds for understanding - since the first time a boy touched her.
Bobby Beechum, when she was fourteen, a stolen kiss that looked like it might have become more before she laughed and pulled away, her legs longer than his, faster than his as she ran, looking back over her shoulder, because he wasn't what she wanted but she still wanted to feel that way/Arnalesh of Calormen, who smelled of sunlight and spices, whose dark, clever fingers stroked feelings from within her that she hadn't realised her body was capable of, Ambassador to her Queen, who first captivated her interest in Calormen and the Colouredmen who came from there, who opened her body and a trade route between their peoples.So long since she felt these butterflies in her
( ... )
Susan brushed passed her and Inara breathed deep, inhaling the scent of Susan's hair and perfume as she glided by. Susan's scent almost made her dizzy with desire. Feeling her torso come in contact with hers was equally as dizzying and it took every ounce of strength Inara had just to stand upright, for she felt her knees buckling. It was a sensation Inara had not felt since the first time she met Mal. Mal Reynolds had been the only man she could remember that made her feel unsure of herself. Made her go weak in the knees with just a look. Susan was having that effect on her
( ... )
Feeling Inara's bodyheat as a searing presence against her back, Susan rocks backwards slightly, bringing her back against Inara's torso, feeling the soft swell of her breasts crush slightly, giving way to the harder muscle of Susan's shoulderblades.
She can feel her hair move under the weight of Inara's breath, and knows that the long, soft strands must be caressing Inara's face intimately, bringing a surge of jealousy for that long, black length, devoid of any nerve endings that would allow Susan to feel what her fingers still sing with, two days later, the sense-memory of Inara's face, explored during their brief kiss.
And she wants it, wants another one. The freezer door is closed, the sake stored inside to chill, and Susan turns, slowly, giving Inara the choice of whether to step back or whether to remain in place, knowing that if she stays it will bring them so close their breath will mingle, and lips can hardly help but touch.
Inara doesn't move an inch. Not even a hairs breath it seems. She didn't even have to think about it. SHe just stood there as Susan turned around and brought that lovely face right to hers. INara thought quickly that she could die happy right now, with her face so close to Susan's being able to taste her breath and feel it's warmth on her skin.
"Susan," was all Inara could say as she inched her mouth ever closer to the sweet nectar of Susan's lips.
Susan doesn't speak, not a word, as her fingers raise to Inara's cheek, cupping it gently as her fingertips weave through soft, fine hair, dark against the polished paleness of her nails. Still barely a touch, and she can feel the tiny vellum hairs on Inara's cheek more clearly than the skin itself, softer than peach fuzz, tickling the palm of her hand, sending sparks shooting under her skin.
Slowly, almost trembling, she parts her lips, fitting them against Inara's, feeling the softness of this woman, the warmth of her mouth, and the taste there is so different from the peach and cranberry of the Screwed Up Happily Ever After that had been there before that a soft, curious sound emerges before she's aware of it, bringing her tongue out to flick along Inara's lips, exploring what lies in its place.
Inara felt Susan's hand on her cheek, and her body started to tremble with anticipation, pleasure, desire...all of the above and more.
Susan's hand was so warm, so soft and when their lips met in a soft kiss Inara was lost. She made a soft sound in her throat that sounded halfway between a whimper and a moan as Susan's tongue darted out to taste her, Inara's hands were on Susann's hips feeling the material of her dress under them and cursing the fabric in her head, for as soft as it was and as good as it felt to touch, the heat from Susan's body made Inata long for the softness of touching smooth feminine skin - Susan's skin.
Feeling as though she can taste that moan on her tongue, Susan sways softly, almost reeling, drunk on Inara's touch and taste and sound. Her hips shift under the dress, and she knows Inara will be able to feel , from where her hands are, from the way the fabric moves, that there's nothing under it.
It's not unusual for Susan, but knowing that Inara now knows sends another thrill through her. She can feel the length of Inara's body pressed against hers, but it's the combination of their skirts moving against one another that draws her attention, the unfamiliarity of it. She shifts her hips again, almost as if she were dancing. It sets her dress into faint motion, eyes sliding closed as her tongue quests deeper, as she hears the swish of fabric and the drumbeat of her own heart.
It was almost like a dance. A sensual, erotic, mind spinning dance. Soft lips, questing delicate tongues, silken fabric moving against silken fabric and silken skin underneath. And Inara could tell that Susan was naked under her dress. The thought was exhilarating - knowing that all that separated their bodies was flowing skirts, for Inara was not wearing anything under her dress either, for their was no pair of panties made that came as low and the dip in the back of her dress.
Inara parted her lips wider giving Susan's questing tongue what it sought and begining to stroke it with her own tongue. The heat it casued was almost audible. Inara could almost hear their bodies sizzling togther.
Inara's hands crept up Susan's sides - up and then back down to her hips again and then up once more, everytime a little higher as their lips medled together, causing everything but Susan and her body modled against her own, to fade away.
Inara's hands are slowly driving Susan insane, creeping higher but never even brushing the sides of her breasts, and she lets out a tiny moan against Inara's mouth.
Her free hand slides around Inara's supple waist, the curve of hip new and unfamiliar and undeniably feminine. She repeats the motion a few times, getting used to how it feels, the soft fabric abraiding her palm in a way that skin simply doesn't, sensitising it almost unbearably, until the tingle in her palm draws as much of her attention as the warm velvet of Inara's tongue.
Then, and only then, does she let her hand slide further, around to Inara's back, to the dip of her spine and the silky skin there, where fabric drops almost indecently away. Fingers curling, tiny touches that grow in confidence but not in force, Susan explores that skin, seeking to make Inara shiver in the same way she does at featherlight touches in that spot.
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On the other hand, there's an impression to be made when Inara opens the door, and if Susan looks casual it might imply that she wasn't taking this particularly seriously, or that she hadn't been anticipating it with every breath in her body.
Ultimately, it comes down to the fact that Susan can't imagine Inara looking anything but spectacular. She hadn't been going clubbing the night they met, she'd just been out for a walk, and if that's how she looks ordinarily... Susan could be justified in putting a fair amount of effort into her appearance.
Her own dress is also red, an Elie Saab creation with a shockingly low neckline, the halter-neck style skirting just above her nipples. Last time they'd met there was hardly any skin for Inara's fingers to ghost over, and she doesn't ( ... )
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She let's Susan take one of the bags, the one held close to her with the candels in it, and she feels he young womans fingers brush her bare shoulder ever so lightly. The touch sends every hair on Inara's body on end.
PArt of Inara wants to drop the bottle of rice wine and rip off that exquisite chiffin creation and ravage the pale skin just underneath it. But Inara also knows, that women are different from men in the simple fact that desire begins in the mind and that women are seduced not by mere physicality but from mental stimulation more than anything.
She leans in and plants a butterfly soft kiss on Suan's cheek in greeting.
"Susan," she begings, crossing the threshold into Susan's small, but gorgeous apartment. "You look delicious."
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That part was expected.
The fact that it was on the cheek was less expected, and part of Susan wants to cry out in protest, wants to...
By the Lion's Mane...
Inara's walked past Susan, displaying the perfect, golden curve of a very, very bare back, and the shining red fabric that covers what can only be described as a heart-shaped bottom. Susan didn't think women's asses were ever actually heart-shaped. A trick of the poets, but not like this not in real life ( ... )
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Her other hand rises to take it, allowing Inara's hand to fall into hers as she replies, her voice warm and full of promise. "It's a pleasure I've never had, Inara... but I have every faith this isn't the first new pleasure you will introduce me to. If I might ask how it is served...?"
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Inara did not want to break contact with Susan. I t seemed so strange to Inara for someone she just met to have such a hold on her already. Her voice spoke of such promise, and it made Inara's spine tingle and her blood boil. "I believe that there is nothing I could introduce you to that would not be pleasurable, Susan."
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Inara's words arc up her spine, a thrill of excitement. She hasn't felt like this - nervous but hopeful, anticipating something she has no grounds for understanding - since the first time a boy touched her.
Bobby Beechum, when she was fourteen, a stolen kiss that looked like it might have become more before she laughed and pulled away, her legs longer than his, faster than his as she ran, looking back over her shoulder, because he wasn't what she wanted but she still wanted to feel that way/Arnalesh of Calormen, who smelled of sunlight and spices, whose dark, clever fingers stroked feelings from within her that she hadn't realised her body was capable of, Ambassador to her Queen, who first captivated her interest in Calormen and the Colouredmen who came from there, who opened her body and a trade route between their peoples.So long since she felt these butterflies in her ( ... )
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She can feel her hair move under the weight of Inara's breath, and knows that the long, soft strands must be caressing Inara's face intimately, bringing a surge of jealousy for that long, black length, devoid of any nerve endings that would allow Susan to feel what her fingers still sing with, two days later, the sense-memory of Inara's face, explored during their brief kiss.
And she wants it, wants another one. The freezer door is closed, the sake stored inside to chill, and Susan turns, slowly, giving Inara the choice of whether to step back or whether to remain in place, knowing that if she stays it will bring them so close their breath will mingle, and lips can hardly help but touch.
Reply
"Susan," was all Inara could say as she inched her mouth ever closer to the sweet nectar of Susan's lips.
Reply
Slowly, almost trembling, she parts her lips, fitting them against Inara's, feeling the softness of this woman, the warmth of her mouth, and the taste there is so different from the peach and cranberry of the Screwed Up Happily Ever After that had been there before that a soft, curious sound emerges before she's aware of it, bringing her tongue out to flick along Inara's lips, exploring what lies in its place.
Reply
Susan's hand was so warm, so soft and when their lips met in a soft kiss Inara was lost. She made a soft sound in her throat that sounded halfway between a whimper and a moan as Susan's tongue darted out to taste her, Inara's hands were on Susann's hips feeling the material of her dress under them and cursing the fabric in her head, for as soft as it was and as good as it felt to touch, the heat from Susan's body made Inata long for the softness of touching smooth feminine skin - Susan's skin.
Reply
It's not unusual for Susan, but knowing that Inara now knows sends another thrill through her. She can feel the length of Inara's body pressed against hers, but it's the combination of their skirts moving against one another that draws her attention, the unfamiliarity of it. She shifts her hips again, almost as if she were dancing. It sets her dress into faint motion, eyes sliding closed as her tongue quests deeper, as she hears the swish of fabric and the drumbeat of her own heart.
Reply
Inara parted her lips wider giving Susan's questing tongue what it sought and begining to stroke it with her own tongue. The heat it casued was almost audible. Inara could almost hear their bodies sizzling togther.
Inara's hands crept up Susan's sides - up and then back down to her hips again and then up once more, everytime a little higher as their lips medled together, causing everything but Susan and her body modled against her own, to fade away.
Reply
Her free hand slides around Inara's supple waist, the curve of hip new and unfamiliar and undeniably feminine. She repeats the motion a few times, getting used to how it feels, the soft fabric abraiding her palm in a way that skin simply doesn't, sensitising it almost unbearably, until the tingle in her palm draws as much of her attention as the warm velvet of Inara's tongue.
Then, and only then, does she let her hand slide further, around to Inara's back, to the dip of her spine and the silky skin there, where fabric drops almost indecently away. Fingers curling, tiny touches that grow in confidence but not in force, Susan explores that skin, seeking to make Inara shiver in the same way she does at featherlight touches in that spot.
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