Unni (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sparklight) wrote2019-02-08 09:29 pm
sparklight) wrote2019-02-08 09:29 pm
Entry tags:
Femfeb - "Silent"
Day eight and we're on "Silent" and another Carmilla ficlet, but before we get to that, I'm just gonna laugh about how, apparently the way to get into She-Ra fic is to do a flower maiden AU and smut. I did not expect that, but it was super fun to write (it's for tomorrow's prompt). Catra is really fun to write, honestly.
Onto today's ficlet though! It's definitely mature, about as much as yesterday's.
The closet is dark, but there's a line of light at the bottom of the door, mostly blocked by Carmilla's dress. Laura's awkwardly bent back against the shelves, digging into her back, but she dares not make a single noise in protest. If anyone would come by, they'd hear. If they'd hear, they would investigate. Her breath sticks in her throat at the idea at the same time as a hot line is scraped down her left breast.
"Ca---" She has to press her hands, both of them, more firmly against her mouth to remember to be quiet. But it is oh so hard, so hard to not make any noises at all when Carmilla has her mouth to the swell of one breast or the other, dividing her attention, and her teeth continually scrape or nip all over.
Every not-bite sends a thrill through her, a damning, shameful burst of pleasure that burns gold deep within her and makes her tip her pelvis forward, hips arched, silently begging. But Carmilla hasn't touched her at all below the waist; indeed, she's barely put hand to her! Yet she's wet and trembling, having to muffle moans and gasps behind her hands.
A hot, wet tongue maps out another long, twinned scratch down her right breast this time, ending with a sharp nip and leaving Laura shuddering against the shelves behind her, stifling a sob. She will not bite, not in the middle of the day, will she? And yet, if she does not... Laura isn't sure she isn't about to try and switch their places, just to get some relief. She could never have imagined this, weeks and weeks ago, and yet here she is. Her breath burns unsteadily down into her lungs and she squeezes her eyes shut, having to bite down on one of her fingers to quieten herself. There are not that many living and working in the schloss, but if one of them should pass by close enough to hear something that shouldn't be, they will find them out, and then everything will be ruined.
To think she'd been denying wanting this, and more besides, as shortly as a week ago!
"Carmilla," Laura finally hisses, breathless and stuttering, but any other words fail her. She arches up again, but all Carmilla does is shift her own stance, pinning one of her legs with one of her knees, and sends her such a terrible look past thick, low-lidded lashes that her whole body throbs.
"Shh, dear one." The smile in against her chest, Carmilla's hands each holding a breast and pushing them together, burying her face in the cleavage, and Laura flushes as she catches sight of it. Sometimes, it still marvels her Carmilla really is most definitely another woman, however unnatural of one she may be, and not a man disguised, like she'd thought. She opens her mouth to protest her treatment, no matter the shivery thrill it sends through her and chokes instead. She shoves as many fingers into her mouth as she can manage to silence herself as she shudders and twists against Carmilla, helpless as the tension in her crests and crashes down.
She had not known a bite could feel like that.
She had not known feeling the draw of her own lifeblood out of her, Carmilla's mouth locked around a nipple and sucking on it as much as she's drawing out the blood and swallowing it, would leave her aflame and coming.
Laura slumps against the shelves with nothing but a few, soft little whines escaping her as her hands drop to Carmilla's shoulders, holding her against her breast until Carmilla is no longer nursing, and her own body is still and silent.
Onto today's ficlet though! It's definitely mature, about as much as yesterday's.
The closet is dark, but there's a line of light at the bottom of the door, mostly blocked by Carmilla's dress. Laura's awkwardly bent back against the shelves, digging into her back, but she dares not make a single noise in protest. If anyone would come by, they'd hear. If they'd hear, they would investigate. Her breath sticks in her throat at the idea at the same time as a hot line is scraped down her left breast.
"Ca---" She has to press her hands, both of them, more firmly against her mouth to remember to be quiet. But it is oh so hard, so hard to not make any noises at all when Carmilla has her mouth to the swell of one breast or the other, dividing her attention, and her teeth continually scrape or nip all over.
Every not-bite sends a thrill through her, a damning, shameful burst of pleasure that burns gold deep within her and makes her tip her pelvis forward, hips arched, silently begging. But Carmilla hasn't touched her at all below the waist; indeed, she's barely put hand to her! Yet she's wet and trembling, having to muffle moans and gasps behind her hands.
A hot, wet tongue maps out another long, twinned scratch down her right breast this time, ending with a sharp nip and leaving Laura shuddering against the shelves behind her, stifling a sob. She will not bite, not in the middle of the day, will she? And yet, if she does not... Laura isn't sure she isn't about to try and switch their places, just to get some relief. She could never have imagined this, weeks and weeks ago, and yet here she is. Her breath burns unsteadily down into her lungs and she squeezes her eyes shut, having to bite down on one of her fingers to quieten herself. There are not that many living and working in the schloss, but if one of them should pass by close enough to hear something that shouldn't be, they will find them out, and then everything will be ruined.
To think she'd been denying wanting this, and more besides, as shortly as a week ago!
"Carmilla," Laura finally hisses, breathless and stuttering, but any other words fail her. She arches up again, but all Carmilla does is shift her own stance, pinning one of her legs with one of her knees, and sends her such a terrible look past thick, low-lidded lashes that her whole body throbs.
"Shh, dear one." The smile in against her chest, Carmilla's hands each holding a breast and pushing them together, burying her face in the cleavage, and Laura flushes as she catches sight of it. Sometimes, it still marvels her Carmilla really is most definitely another woman, however unnatural of one she may be, and not a man disguised, like she'd thought. She opens her mouth to protest her treatment, no matter the shivery thrill it sends through her and chokes instead. She shoves as many fingers into her mouth as she can manage to silence herself as she shudders and twists against Carmilla, helpless as the tension in her crests and crashes down.
She had not known a bite could feel like that.
She had not known feeling the draw of her own lifeblood out of her, Carmilla's mouth locked around a nipple and sucking on it as much as she's drawing out the blood and swallowing it, would leave her aflame and coming.
Laura slumps against the shelves with nothing but a few, soft little whines escaping her as her hands drop to Carmilla's shoulders, holding her against her breast until Carmilla is no longer nursing, and her own body is still and silent.