Fic: Decorum
A/N: So, I started to write this for a LotS porn battle (I think), forgot about it, and now have finally finished it. It seemed as good a fic as any with which to return.
Title: Decorum
Series: oneshot
Fandom: LotS
Pairing: Cara/Kahlan, mention of Cara/m (kinda)
Prompt: I can’t remember, but it had bisexual!Cara, so that explains that.
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: D/S and mild S&M. Also, m/f mention (even though I said that already, it bears repeating here). Unbeta’d
Disclaimer: I own nothing. No infringement intended.
Summary: The first time they stay at an inn since Cara joined the quest, Kahlan is not trilled about having to share a room with the Mord’Sith. She’s certain she won’t be getting any sleep…. Yeah, ok, it’s a PWP.
Cara’s breath catches in surprise as Kahlan grabs a strap on the back of her neck guard and jerks her to her feet. The leather bites into her neck, making it hard to inhale, and Cara is forcefully reminded of the way this woman’s hand felt wrapped around her throat.
“What are you doing?” the Confessor hisses in her ear, jerking Cara back against her as the Mord’Sith tries to turn around.
Cara’s eyes widen at the venom in the tone and she senses she has once again crossed some sort of social line. Still on the floor, the young man she thinks must be a blacksmith, although she certainly didn’t bother to ask, looks sick with alarm. His arousal withers to nothing before the angry Confessor and Cara rolls her eyes. “He came with me freely,” Cara offers, not knowing what else to say. It isn’t often someone has dared to interrupt her before.
“Get out,” Kahlan snaps at the last hope Cara had for enjoying the evening. The man darts past them, out the door, and Cara feels herself being spun around. She is stunned when Kahlan’s open palm strikes her cheek hard enough for Cara to know it has left a mark. Her eyes water in an involuntary reaction and heat pools between her already wet thighs.
“We share this room, Cara!” Kahlan yells at her, making Cara’s head tilt in confusion. She knows this.
“Am I supposed to fuck in public?” Cara asks, half serious. She’s not a whore; it’s not her job to entertain the masses.
Kahlan looks like she wants to hit her again and Cara bites her lip, hoping the Confessor will. “No!” Kahlan nostrils flare as she takes a deep breath and an icy calm slides over her demeanor. Cara instantly misses the heat that had been directed her way. “I don’t want to ever walk in on you again,” the Confessor informs her frostily.
“Then what am I supposed to do?” Cara is beyond frustrated at this point. “We are not all as chaste as you, Mother Confessor!”
“Do you think it’s easy for me!” Kahlans voice breaks and she pivots away suddenly. Cara is completely flummoxed as the woman who was moments before a tower of strength begins to cry. “I have the same desires you do,” Kahlan’s head turns back to glare at her, but her tone is completely spoiled by the wetness on her face.
The Mord’Sith has no idea how to react to a woman behaving at once as a Mistress and a Pet. But she wonders if it’s true, if Kahlan’s desires have left her thighs as wet as her face. “Really?” is what falls out of Cara mouth, the word extending into an interested purr before she can stop herself.
She walks to stand in front of the Confessor and drops to her knees.
“What are you doing?” Kahlan sounds wary, but Cara catches perhaps the tiniest bit of interest in her tone.
“Checking to see if you are as human as you claim,” Cara moves cautiously, sliding her hand up the Confessor’s skirt. She’s expecting another slap but the Confessor allows her fingers to continue up her thigh.
“Are you satisfied?” Kahlan hisses as Cara’s fingers touch between her legs. Her eyes widen as Cara moves her fingers to dip beneath the cloth, it was moist, of Kahlan’s braies. She trails her fingers over the Confessors damp curls, feeling the hair tickle against her skin. A smirk touches her lips as the Confessor’s hips tilt into her hand and the woman let loose a barely audible groan.
“Stop or I’ll confess you,” Kahlan threatens in a less than convincing manner, making Cara chuckle. She’d like to see Kahlan explain her death to her naïve, would-be-lover.
Letting her hand cup Kahlan’s cunt firmly, Cara slips one finger between her lips, resting the tip over Kahlan’s opening. “That would be premature,” she taunts the Confessor, making Kahlan’s eyes narrow in anger even as she grasps fruitlessly at the empty air behind her for something to help support her weight. “Confess me whenever you like,” the Mord’Sith adds. “I’m not going to stop until you do.” She wiggles her finger to punctuate her statement.
“You’re insane,” Kahlan gasps.
“Maybe,” Cara grins, enjoying Kahlan’s discomfort as much as she is enjoying how incredibly responsive the Confessor’s body was proving to be. “But I’m not willing to live a chaste existence.”
Kahlan’s hips tilt forward again and Cara presses her hand against the Confessor harder, letting her finger slip further inside Kahlan’s opening and her palm grind against Kahlan’s folds over her clit. The Confessor’s eyes slam shut and she grunts, as if trying not to let Cara hear her enjoyment.
A slight flexing of Cara’s finger in the silky heat is all that’s needed to start Kahlan’s hips moving in a constant rhythmic motion and keep the Cofessor completely distracted as Cara’s other hand filches one of her daggers.
“Don’t move,” she warns, making Kahlan’s eyes pop open in alarm. With a few easy motions she’s cut the laces holding the front panel of Kahlan’s skirt to the rest of the dress, letting the fabric flutter uselessly to the ground. The braies she doesn’t even try to preserve, merely slicing through the cloth and leaving Kahlan completely exposed. Incongruously, the Mord’Sith is now hyper aware of the way her own pants are hanging open.
Cara’s nipples tighten at the sight of her fingers disappearing between Kahlan’s dark curls, moisture shining on her palm. She looks up into the Confessor’s wide eyes and holds her gaze as she leans forward to breathe in the Confessor’s scent.
“Cara,” the Confessor’s tone is a plea and she makes a disappointed sound as Cara moves her hand away, sliding out of her.
“This is where you left me,” Cara taunts, tossing the dagger aside and putting both her hands on the Confessor’s hips. “When you interrupted.” She nips the inside of Kahlan’s thigh, making Kahlan whimper. “I was holding him against my entrance,” Cara continues, reluctantly removing her lips from Kahlan’s skin to speak. “I was toying with him, my hands were on his hips, holding him down so he couldn’t thrust into me. I had just started to ease the tip of his cock inside…” Cara’s eyes are burning as she looks up into Kahlan’s.
“Cara, I,” the Confessor starts, but Cara doesn’t wait to hear the rest. Her hand slide down Kahlan’s thighs, behind her knees, and she jerks the Confessor’s legs out from under her.
Kahlan hits the floor of the inn hard, and Cara knows it has to hurt. She moves to hold herself over the woman as Kahlan wheezes, trying to get her breath back. “What are you doing, Kahlan?” she demands.
Tears prick in the Confessor’s eyes. “Cara,” she whispers in a wounded tone.
Cara cuts her off again, this time with a kiss. When she forces her tongue into Kahlan’s mouth, the Confessor surprises her by closing her lips around it and sucking. An embarrassing sound leaves Cara’s throat and she rips her lips away.
“Roll over,” Cara commands, moving back to sit on her heels. “Get on your hands and knees.”
“I could confess you,” Kahlan protests halfheartedly. Cara is a little surprised she still cares this is a possibility.
“Do it,” she instructs, putting all of her authority into the tone. She shivers as Kahlan rolls over, obeying without further protest. The Confessor has kept her legs parted, which gives Cara an excellent view when she flips the back part of Kahlan’s skirt out of the way. As the Mord’Sith stands, she notices a dark bruise already starting to form on the Confessor’s hip from where Kahlan hit the floor. Cara is unable to stop herself from brushing her fingers over it, drawing a hissing whimper from the Confessor. “Stay like that,” she commands, walking over to her pack.
“Where are you going?” Kahlan asks, not moving and facing to wrong way to see. Since Cara didn’t tell her to be silent, and, she reminds herself firmly, the Confessor is not a Pet, Cara allows the question.
“When we kil- rescued the girls in the drowning cave, I recovered some… supplies,” Cara explains. She draws a cold silver circlet out of her pack and frowns down at it. She never thought she’d be using it for this and a part of her knows she will be getting rid of her advantage if she lets the Confessor know she has it. Not all of Kahlan’s death threats have been as halfhearted as this evening’s.
She carries the circlet back to the Confessor and crouches down in front of her to let her see it.
“A Rada’Han,” Kahlan breathes, looking at Cara fearfully.
“Will you let me?” the Mord’Sith forces herself to ask, rather than take.
Kahlan bites her lip indecisively as Cara makes herself wait for permission. It is only now that Cara realizes how very much she wants this.
“Do it,” Kahlan decides and Cara can feel a wide grin split her face. She lifts Kahlan’s hair out of the way and locks the circlet in place.
“Thank you,” she whispers into Kahlan’s ear, surprising herself; she hadn’t meant to speak.
Clearing her throat, Cara stands and walks back behind Kahlan. She runs her hands up the Confessor’s thighs as she kneels, letting Kahlan feel where she is. A fine tremor seems to have affected the Confessor and Cara swats her ass just to see her jump.
Chuckling at the annoyed yelp that left the Confessor’s mouth, Cara bends over Kahlan’s back and wraps an arm around her waist. Threading her other hand between their bodies, Cara finally lets her fingers sink back into wetness. Using two of them this time, she teases the Confessor’s opening, making Kahlan moan and push her ass back against Cara.
“Please,” Kahlan whispers, sounding nothing at all like a Confessor any longer. Yet, suddenly, that’s all Cara can think of her as: the Mother Confessor, begging to be fucked. She groans and lets her fingers enter the Confessor, less than an inch before pulling back out. She wants this woman to really beg.
She keeps her thrusts shallow, her other palm flat against Kahlan’s abs as the Confessor’s muscles bunch and release as she tries to rock harder against Cara’s gentle touch. Soon she’s panting with an audible moan in each breath and Cara begins to wonder if Kahlan could find release just from this.
She pulls her hand away, withdrawing until her fingers are just touching Kahlan’s opening again. The Confessor lets loose a pitiful moan, but she doesn’t take the hint. Pressing herself tightly against the leather covered back, using the arm around her waist to help hold the other woman to her, Cara touches her lips to the soft shell of the Confessor’s ear. “Ask me for more,” she whispers.
“Cara,” the Confessor groans immediately. “If I still had my powers right now I would confess you and order you to finish me!”
This response startles a genuine laugh out of Cara. Her muscles relax and the Confessor lets out a little ‘oof’ as she has to help support the Mord’Sith’s weight for a moment, rather than the other way around. Cara has this woman on her hands and knees, inches from release, and Kahlan still can’t decide if she wants to be a Mistress or a Pet. It amazes Cara that Confessors were ever able to procreate.
“Ask me, Kahlan,” she punctuates the statement with a nip on Kahlan’s ear.
“Please,” Kahlan whispers at last.
“Mmm,” Cara hums her approval and pulls the Confessor tight against her. She pushes her fingers in slowly, entering her deeper than she had before, and holds them there. “Please what?” she prompts as the Confessor moans, her hips squirming futility against Cara’s arm around her waist as she tries to fuck herself on Cara’s hand.
“Cara?” Kahlan shudders and the Mord’Sith hears the uncertainty and desperation in her voice.
“Please Mistress Cara,” Cara prompts softly. It wouldn’t be fair to punish the Confessor for something she didn’t know and teasing her this long has already crossed to the other side of cruel. There are some lines even Cara doesn’t want to willfully cross. Her fingers flex encouragingly in Kahlan’s channel.
The Confessor’s head drops forward and she gasps. “Please Mistress Cara,” she repeats softly.
It’s enough. Cara’s hips jerk forward, pushing her fingers deeper into Kahlan. The Confessor’s head snaps up, hair flying as her back arches, and she howls with approval. The pace Cara sets is slow and firm and the Confessor rocks against her as Cara relaxes the arm that’s around the Confessor’s waist. The fingers against Kahlan’s stomach slip downward, into wet curls and Cara circles the Confessor clit a few times before letting her fingers brush against it.
Kahlan’s hips move faster, rough sounds leaving her throat and Cara can feel her own wetness as the cheek of Kahlan ass brushes the opening of the Mord’Sith’s pants. She moves her fingers faster against Kahlan’s clit, deciding at the last second against pinching it; the Confessor is unused to pain and the bruises on her ass are probably causing her enough discomfort to add to her pleasure. More pain would probably tip the balance away from pleasure completely.
“That’s it Confessor,” Cara mumbles.
Kahlan’s hips jerk erratically as she starts to come and Cara’s hand moves away from her clit so she can support the Confessor’s weight before Kahlan can crash to the floor. Thrusting hard into Kahlan, against her bruises, Cara curls her fingers against the spot inside the Confessor that’s been just out of her reach. Kahlan howls, a true scream, as her inner walls pulse around Cara’s fingers and Cara remains where she is until the Confessor squirms in her grip and tries the pull away.
“Easy,” Cara withdraws her fingers slowly and only then releases the Confessor. She sits back on her heels and waits as Kahlan shifts so that they are facing one another.
“Did that meet with your approval, Confessor?” There is something Cara can’t interpret in Kahlan’s eyes and it inexplicably makes the Mord’Sith feel like she is the vulnerable one. She should be pushing Kahlan’s head between her own legs. She should, but as they sit facing one another, Cara knows the next move is going to be the Confessor’s and she has no idea what it’s going to be.
Title: Decorum
Series: oneshot
Fandom: LotS
Pairing: Cara/Kahlan, mention of Cara/m (kinda)
Prompt: I can’t remember, but it had bisexual!Cara, so that explains that.
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: D/S and mild S&M. Also, m/f mention (even though I said that already, it bears repeating here). Unbeta’d
Disclaimer: I own nothing. No infringement intended.
Summary: The first time they stay at an inn since Cara joined the quest, Kahlan is not trilled about having to share a room with the Mord’Sith. She’s certain she won’t be getting any sleep…. Yeah, ok, it’s a PWP.
Cara’s breath catches in surprise as Kahlan grabs a strap on the back of her neck guard and jerks her to her feet. The leather bites into her neck, making it hard to inhale, and Cara is forcefully reminded of the way this woman’s hand felt wrapped around her throat.
“What are you doing?” the Confessor hisses in her ear, jerking Cara back against her as the Mord’Sith tries to turn around.
Cara’s eyes widen at the venom in the tone and she senses she has once again crossed some sort of social line. Still on the floor, the young man she thinks must be a blacksmith, although she certainly didn’t bother to ask, looks sick with alarm. His arousal withers to nothing before the angry Confessor and Cara rolls her eyes. “He came with me freely,” Cara offers, not knowing what else to say. It isn’t often someone has dared to interrupt her before.
“Get out,” Kahlan snaps at the last hope Cara had for enjoying the evening. The man darts past them, out the door, and Cara feels herself being spun around. She is stunned when Kahlan’s open palm strikes her cheek hard enough for Cara to know it has left a mark. Her eyes water in an involuntary reaction and heat pools between her already wet thighs.
“We share this room, Cara!” Kahlan yells at her, making Cara’s head tilt in confusion. She knows this.
“Am I supposed to fuck in public?” Cara asks, half serious. She’s not a whore; it’s not her job to entertain the masses.
Kahlan looks like she wants to hit her again and Cara bites her lip, hoping the Confessor will. “No!” Kahlan nostrils flare as she takes a deep breath and an icy calm slides over her demeanor. Cara instantly misses the heat that had been directed her way. “I don’t want to ever walk in on you again,” the Confessor informs her frostily.
“Then what am I supposed to do?” Cara is beyond frustrated at this point. “We are not all as chaste as you, Mother Confessor!”
“Do you think it’s easy for me!” Kahlans voice breaks and she pivots away suddenly. Cara is completely flummoxed as the woman who was moments before a tower of strength begins to cry. “I have the same desires you do,” Kahlan’s head turns back to glare at her, but her tone is completely spoiled by the wetness on her face.
The Mord’Sith has no idea how to react to a woman behaving at once as a Mistress and a Pet. But she wonders if it’s true, if Kahlan’s desires have left her thighs as wet as her face. “Really?” is what falls out of Cara mouth, the word extending into an interested purr before she can stop herself.
She walks to stand in front of the Confessor and drops to her knees.
“What are you doing?” Kahlan sounds wary, but Cara catches perhaps the tiniest bit of interest in her tone.
“Checking to see if you are as human as you claim,” Cara moves cautiously, sliding her hand up the Confessor’s skirt. She’s expecting another slap but the Confessor allows her fingers to continue up her thigh.
“Are you satisfied?” Kahlan hisses as Cara’s fingers touch between her legs. Her eyes widen as Cara moves her fingers to dip beneath the cloth, it was moist, of Kahlan’s braies. She trails her fingers over the Confessors damp curls, feeling the hair tickle against her skin. A smirk touches her lips as the Confessor’s hips tilt into her hand and the woman let loose a barely audible groan.
“Stop or I’ll confess you,” Kahlan threatens in a less than convincing manner, making Cara chuckle. She’d like to see Kahlan explain her death to her naïve, would-be-lover.
Letting her hand cup Kahlan’s cunt firmly, Cara slips one finger between her lips, resting the tip over Kahlan’s opening. “That would be premature,” she taunts the Confessor, making Kahlan’s eyes narrow in anger even as she grasps fruitlessly at the empty air behind her for something to help support her weight. “Confess me whenever you like,” the Mord’Sith adds. “I’m not going to stop until you do.” She wiggles her finger to punctuate her statement.
“You’re insane,” Kahlan gasps.
“Maybe,” Cara grins, enjoying Kahlan’s discomfort as much as she is enjoying how incredibly responsive the Confessor’s body was proving to be. “But I’m not willing to live a chaste existence.”
Kahlan’s hips tilt forward again and Cara presses her hand against the Confessor harder, letting her finger slip further inside Kahlan’s opening and her palm grind against Kahlan’s folds over her clit. The Confessor’s eyes slam shut and she grunts, as if trying not to let Cara hear her enjoyment.
A slight flexing of Cara’s finger in the silky heat is all that’s needed to start Kahlan’s hips moving in a constant rhythmic motion and keep the Cofessor completely distracted as Cara’s other hand filches one of her daggers.
“Don’t move,” she warns, making Kahlan’s eyes pop open in alarm. With a few easy motions she’s cut the laces holding the front panel of Kahlan’s skirt to the rest of the dress, letting the fabric flutter uselessly to the ground. The braies she doesn’t even try to preserve, merely slicing through the cloth and leaving Kahlan completely exposed. Incongruously, the Mord’Sith is now hyper aware of the way her own pants are hanging open.
Cara’s nipples tighten at the sight of her fingers disappearing between Kahlan’s dark curls, moisture shining on her palm. She looks up into the Confessor’s wide eyes and holds her gaze as she leans forward to breathe in the Confessor’s scent.
“Cara,” the Confessor’s tone is a plea and she makes a disappointed sound as Cara moves her hand away, sliding out of her.
“This is where you left me,” Cara taunts, tossing the dagger aside and putting both her hands on the Confessor’s hips. “When you interrupted.” She nips the inside of Kahlan’s thigh, making Kahlan whimper. “I was holding him against my entrance,” Cara continues, reluctantly removing her lips from Kahlan’s skin to speak. “I was toying with him, my hands were on his hips, holding him down so he couldn’t thrust into me. I had just started to ease the tip of his cock inside…” Cara’s eyes are burning as she looks up into Kahlan’s.
“Cara, I,” the Confessor starts, but Cara doesn’t wait to hear the rest. Her hand slide down Kahlan’s thighs, behind her knees, and she jerks the Confessor’s legs out from under her.
Kahlan hits the floor of the inn hard, and Cara knows it has to hurt. She moves to hold herself over the woman as Kahlan wheezes, trying to get her breath back. “What are you doing, Kahlan?” she demands.
Tears prick in the Confessor’s eyes. “Cara,” she whispers in a wounded tone.
Cara cuts her off again, this time with a kiss. When she forces her tongue into Kahlan’s mouth, the Confessor surprises her by closing her lips around it and sucking. An embarrassing sound leaves Cara’s throat and she rips her lips away.
“Roll over,” Cara commands, moving back to sit on her heels. “Get on your hands and knees.”
“I could confess you,” Kahlan protests halfheartedly. Cara is a little surprised she still cares this is a possibility.
“Do it,” she instructs, putting all of her authority into the tone. She shivers as Kahlan rolls over, obeying without further protest. The Confessor has kept her legs parted, which gives Cara an excellent view when she flips the back part of Kahlan’s skirt out of the way. As the Mord’Sith stands, she notices a dark bruise already starting to form on the Confessor’s hip from where Kahlan hit the floor. Cara is unable to stop herself from brushing her fingers over it, drawing a hissing whimper from the Confessor. “Stay like that,” she commands, walking over to her pack.
“Where are you going?” Kahlan asks, not moving and facing to wrong way to see. Since Cara didn’t tell her to be silent, and, she reminds herself firmly, the Confessor is not a Pet, Cara allows the question.
“When we kil- rescued the girls in the drowning cave, I recovered some… supplies,” Cara explains. She draws a cold silver circlet out of her pack and frowns down at it. She never thought she’d be using it for this and a part of her knows she will be getting rid of her advantage if she lets the Confessor know she has it. Not all of Kahlan’s death threats have been as halfhearted as this evening’s.
She carries the circlet back to the Confessor and crouches down in front of her to let her see it.
“A Rada’Han,” Kahlan breathes, looking at Cara fearfully.
“Will you let me?” the Mord’Sith forces herself to ask, rather than take.
Kahlan bites her lip indecisively as Cara makes herself wait for permission. It is only now that Cara realizes how very much she wants this.
“Do it,” Kahlan decides and Cara can feel a wide grin split her face. She lifts Kahlan’s hair out of the way and locks the circlet in place.
“Thank you,” she whispers into Kahlan’s ear, surprising herself; she hadn’t meant to speak.
Clearing her throat, Cara stands and walks back behind Kahlan. She runs her hands up the Confessor’s thighs as she kneels, letting Kahlan feel where she is. A fine tremor seems to have affected the Confessor and Cara swats her ass just to see her jump.
Chuckling at the annoyed yelp that left the Confessor’s mouth, Cara bends over Kahlan’s back and wraps an arm around her waist. Threading her other hand between their bodies, Cara finally lets her fingers sink back into wetness. Using two of them this time, she teases the Confessor’s opening, making Kahlan moan and push her ass back against Cara.
“Please,” Kahlan whispers, sounding nothing at all like a Confessor any longer. Yet, suddenly, that’s all Cara can think of her as: the Mother Confessor, begging to be fucked. She groans and lets her fingers enter the Confessor, less than an inch before pulling back out. She wants this woman to really beg.
She keeps her thrusts shallow, her other palm flat against Kahlan’s abs as the Confessor’s muscles bunch and release as she tries to rock harder against Cara’s gentle touch. Soon she’s panting with an audible moan in each breath and Cara begins to wonder if Kahlan could find release just from this.
She pulls her hand away, withdrawing until her fingers are just touching Kahlan’s opening again. The Confessor lets loose a pitiful moan, but she doesn’t take the hint. Pressing herself tightly against the leather covered back, using the arm around her waist to help hold the other woman to her, Cara touches her lips to the soft shell of the Confessor’s ear. “Ask me for more,” she whispers.
“Cara,” the Confessor groans immediately. “If I still had my powers right now I would confess you and order you to finish me!”
This response startles a genuine laugh out of Cara. Her muscles relax and the Confessor lets out a little ‘oof’ as she has to help support the Mord’Sith’s weight for a moment, rather than the other way around. Cara has this woman on her hands and knees, inches from release, and Kahlan still can’t decide if she wants to be a Mistress or a Pet. It amazes Cara that Confessors were ever able to procreate.
“Ask me, Kahlan,” she punctuates the statement with a nip on Kahlan’s ear.
“Please,” Kahlan whispers at last.
“Mmm,” Cara hums her approval and pulls the Confessor tight against her. She pushes her fingers in slowly, entering her deeper than she had before, and holds them there. “Please what?” she prompts as the Confessor moans, her hips squirming futility against Cara’s arm around her waist as she tries to fuck herself on Cara’s hand.
“Cara?” Kahlan shudders and the Mord’Sith hears the uncertainty and desperation in her voice.
“Please Mistress Cara,” Cara prompts softly. It wouldn’t be fair to punish the Confessor for something she didn’t know and teasing her this long has already crossed to the other side of cruel. There are some lines even Cara doesn’t want to willfully cross. Her fingers flex encouragingly in Kahlan’s channel.
The Confessor’s head drops forward and she gasps. “Please Mistress Cara,” she repeats softly.
It’s enough. Cara’s hips jerk forward, pushing her fingers deeper into Kahlan. The Confessor’s head snaps up, hair flying as her back arches, and she howls with approval. The pace Cara sets is slow and firm and the Confessor rocks against her as Cara relaxes the arm that’s around the Confessor’s waist. The fingers against Kahlan’s stomach slip downward, into wet curls and Cara circles the Confessor clit a few times before letting her fingers brush against it.
Kahlan’s hips move faster, rough sounds leaving her throat and Cara can feel her own wetness as the cheek of Kahlan ass brushes the opening of the Mord’Sith’s pants. She moves her fingers faster against Kahlan’s clit, deciding at the last second against pinching it; the Confessor is unused to pain and the bruises on her ass are probably causing her enough discomfort to add to her pleasure. More pain would probably tip the balance away from pleasure completely.
“That’s it Confessor,” Cara mumbles.
Kahlan’s hips jerk erratically as she starts to come and Cara’s hand moves away from her clit so she can support the Confessor’s weight before Kahlan can crash to the floor. Thrusting hard into Kahlan, against her bruises, Cara curls her fingers against the spot inside the Confessor that’s been just out of her reach. Kahlan howls, a true scream, as her inner walls pulse around Cara’s fingers and Cara remains where she is until the Confessor squirms in her grip and tries the pull away.
“Easy,” Cara withdraws her fingers slowly and only then releases the Confessor. She sits back on her heels and waits as Kahlan shifts so that they are facing one another.
“Did that meet with your approval, Confessor?” There is something Cara can’t interpret in Kahlan’s eyes and it inexplicably makes the Mord’Sith feel like she is the vulnerable one. She should be pushing Kahlan’s head between her own legs. She should, but as they sit facing one another, Cara knows the next move is going to be the Confessor’s and she has no idea what it’s going to be.