☈ p r i d e .
Title: Seven Sins; Pride
Pairing: Irene // Teresa
Summary: She's easy for you to read, to bend, and break. But in the end, it's always you who gives in.
Rating: R
Teresa, please. Her voice hangs in the air, delicious and desperate. It's almost an order, but you can hear the pleading notes she's not able to hide. You love nothing quite so much as the way she sounds when she's trying not to beg.
Her fingers are tangled in your hair, you can tell she's battling with her self-control from the way her grasping hands flex to the rhythm you've set with your teasing tongue. You breathe hotly on her inner thigh. Her back arches, limbs taut and trembling. You bite, gently, and she falls back, tightening her grip, losing the war with herself.
You smile against her skin and she pulls you roughly back up to whisper something in your ear.
Now, she growls, and this time there's nothing but command in the way the words grind out from between her clenched teeth. You bend your head to her lips and kiss her hard, one hand at her neck, the other moving ever downward.
She is a river, frozen over, and you take such pleasure in the way only your fingers blaze paths enough to penetrate the cold of her, how her body betrays her only at your touch. You follow a rivulet of sweat with your mouth as you enter her, the taste nearly enough to drug you. You drink her in.
You can't help the pride that wells up in you on nights like these. The reactions you can wring from her with the slow drag of a fingertip along her neck, with the flutter of your lashes against her cheek, are like the waves of the ocean, lapping against the shore of you; they erode every last wound away. Somehow she heals all the damage done by time. It's the way her skin ripples at the insistent press of your palms against her breasts, it's the way she moves, the way she takes all that you can give. The way she gives her all in return.
Her body bends and bows, flows around your own like a sea of velvet, draws you as deep as you can go. She is all soft edges under your hands, as you are made all soft edges just by touching her. The world shrinks. All that's left is you, is her, is this bed and the way the moonlight that filters through the window turns her entirely to silver.
It's these moments you love the most, watching her face, unguarded, cheeks flushed, lips parted, eyes wide and liquid with want, before they slam shut and all the breath she's been holding in rushes out, before her muscles seize and she trembles, chest heaving almost violently. There's nothing so beautiful in all the world.
Your smile is nearly savage as you begin to curl your fingers to watch it happen all over again.
She doesn't let you.
She rises, moves over you, nothing gentle in the demanding hands that hold you down, push your shoulders hard into the bed. You do not fight her. You've awakened the storm in her, that tempest that responds only to the torture you visit upon her, that she returns to you a hundred fold.
There is nothing for you to do but lie back and accept it when she kisses you, harshly, her breath cool over heated flesh.
Stop smiling, she says.
You can't.
Pairing: Irene // Teresa
Summary: She's easy for you to read, to bend, and break. But in the end, it's always you who gives in.
Rating: R
Teresa, please. Her voice hangs in the air, delicious and desperate. It's almost an order, but you can hear the pleading notes she's not able to hide. You love nothing quite so much as the way she sounds when she's trying not to beg.
Her fingers are tangled in your hair, you can tell she's battling with her self-control from the way her grasping hands flex to the rhythm you've set with your teasing tongue. You breathe hotly on her inner thigh. Her back arches, limbs taut and trembling. You bite, gently, and she falls back, tightening her grip, losing the war with herself.
You smile against her skin and she pulls you roughly back up to whisper something in your ear.
Now, she growls, and this time there's nothing but command in the way the words grind out from between her clenched teeth. You bend your head to her lips and kiss her hard, one hand at her neck, the other moving ever downward.
She is a river, frozen over, and you take such pleasure in the way only your fingers blaze paths enough to penetrate the cold of her, how her body betrays her only at your touch. You follow a rivulet of sweat with your mouth as you enter her, the taste nearly enough to drug you. You drink her in.
You can't help the pride that wells up in you on nights like these. The reactions you can wring from her with the slow drag of a fingertip along her neck, with the flutter of your lashes against her cheek, are like the waves of the ocean, lapping against the shore of you; they erode every last wound away. Somehow she heals all the damage done by time. It's the way her skin ripples at the insistent press of your palms against her breasts, it's the way she moves, the way she takes all that you can give. The way she gives her all in return.
Her body bends and bows, flows around your own like a sea of velvet, draws you as deep as you can go. She is all soft edges under your hands, as you are made all soft edges just by touching her. The world shrinks. All that's left is you, is her, is this bed and the way the moonlight that filters through the window turns her entirely to silver.
It's these moments you love the most, watching her face, unguarded, cheeks flushed, lips parted, eyes wide and liquid with want, before they slam shut and all the breath she's been holding in rushes out, before her muscles seize and she trembles, chest heaving almost violently. There's nothing so beautiful in all the world.
Your smile is nearly savage as you begin to curl your fingers to watch it happen all over again.
She doesn't let you.
She rises, moves over you, nothing gentle in the demanding hands that hold you down, push your shoulders hard into the bed. You do not fight her. You've awakened the storm in her, that tempest that responds only to the torture you visit upon her, that she returns to you a hundred fold.
There is nothing for you to do but lie back and accept it when she kisses you, harshly, her breath cool over heated flesh.
Stop smiling, she says.
You can't.