Taylor was trapped between apprehension and excitement as she waited for Amy to arrive, not that anyone would be able to tell just by looking at her. After all, she was a tall, gorgeous, confident Hunter dressed to the nines -many mental thanks were given to Paige and Sabah for their sorcery in regards to her fashion options- and leaning casually against a street light near the front of the theatre. She was, therefore and to every outward eye that landed on her, a goddess of a woman that was calm, cool, and collected as she waited for whatever lucky bastard had managed to snag her attention.
And there must be someone, because no girl like that could possibly be single, and she’d turned several people down already that had tried to entice her into a conversation, so she was clearly waiting for someone. Something that was enough to turn aside most, but a few hopefuls were waiting to see if they could muscle out whoever it was that they had for competition.
Those few remaining hopefuls crumbled almost instantly when their competition actually arrived, because when the RideOn Black pulled up to the curb, it was a nicely dressed Amelia Dallon that stepped out of it and met Taylor’s eyes. Met her eyes, and promptly blushed as she took the taller girl in, getting a faint blush and a smirk in response as Taylor did the same in return. None of them could hope to compete with an S-rank healer, and none of them -not even the most arrogant or desperate could claim- had a shot with a girl that could go on dates with an S-rank healer either.
And so, with looks of mingled disappointment and resignation, the would-be suitors melted away into the evening crowd, leaving Taylor and Amy with the small bubble of relative privacy that they both definitely preferred compared to the alternative.
Both of them were nervous enough as it is, they didn’t need to be on stage at the same time that they were dipping their toes into the deep waters that was romance.
“Hi.” Amy said, a little breathlessly, stopping just short of Taylor and tilting her head up to maintain eye contact in a way that, Taylor was startled to realize, did genuinely interesting things to her insides. Was it weird that she liked the fact that Amy was shorter than her, having to look up at her? If it was, she didn’t think she could bring herself to regret it. “You, um. You look incredible.”
“You’re one to talk.” Taylor responded, looking her date for the night up and down, internally very pleased to find that her voice came out steady and warm rather than anxious or shy. The System’s changes to her demeanor, no doubt, especially that boosted Charisma stat, because God knew that a date qualified as a social interaction. “You look fantastic, Amy. That blouse,” she paused, and Amy couldn’t quite resist the urge to squirm in place from something as Taylor visibly drank her in. “And those jeans are wonderful on you.”
The blush that bloomed across Amy’s cheeks was a thing of beauty, deepening the burgundy of her blouse by association, and Taylor felt something warm and possessive curl in her chest at the sight of it. Which was, she suspected, not entirely a healthy reaction to have on a first date, but she couldn’t bring herself to mind too terribly much. Amy was cute when she blushed, she’d known that already, and while the circumstances were a bit different this time around, it was no less enjoyable a sight.
“You…uh, um, thank you for the compliment?” Amy managed, her hands twisting briefly at the hem of her jacket before she seemed to realize what she was doing and fluttering her hands a bit before trying to nonchalantly stick them in her pockets. Something that didn’t work quite as well as she might have hoped, given how tight the jeans were. “So, uh, you look a bit different. Did…did you do something with your hair?”
“Yeah, something like that. My new friends, Paige and Sabah, they helped me out with it. I was skeptical at first, but I have to agree, this look isn’t a bad one for me.” Taylor confirmed as she let herself fall into the bizarrely-comfortable rhythm of her System-guided socialization, gesturing broadly to herself. Amy, and a few other people still within earshot, managed to restrain their incredulity with varying degrees of success.
She was even more beautiful, if it was possible, than the last time that Amy had seen her. She’d gone from tall and thin-but-thickening to taller and outright svelte, and her new style of black leather skirt and mesh leggings paired with a crop-top and leather jacket spoke to the part of Amy that had her frequenting forums where the phrase ‘dommy mommy’ or ‘goddess’ were common terms. Add in the purple streaks to her long, luxurious, almost feathered hair -which was pulled back in a high pony, with a long bang framing one side of her face- and Amy was pretty sure she was going to start drooling any minute now.
She caught herself just before she could actually start doing exactly that, snapping her mouth shut and swallowing hard, and Taylor’s smirk widened just a hair in a way that suggested the taller girl had caught the slip. Of course she had. Amy was almost certain that her face had broadcast every single one of her thoughts in technicolor, and the slow, lazy arch of one of Taylor’s eyebrows confirmed it.
“You okay there, Ames?” Taylor asked, her voice taking on a teasing lilt that did absolutely nothing to help with the rapidly escalating situation in Amy’s lower stomach. “You’re looking a little flushed. You’re not under the weather, are you?”
Not fair, not fair, not fair! Why was she so much prettier! And more confident, and suave, and sexy! She was teasing her, playing with her, and worst of all, she was making Amy love it! Damn it! She was literally looking down on her, and she couldn’t get enough of it!
“Just…take me inside!” the healer finally huffed, cheeks burning and stomach tingling, with a pout that only made Taylor’s smirk widen, one long and slender finger rising to make a beckoning motion that Amy promptly obeyed. Well, let her smirk! Amy had come to win, so if Taylor wanted to act all teasing and dominant and lead her around on a proverbial leash, that just made things easier for her in the end! Her opponent was doing half of the work for her!
Or, at least, that’s what she tried to tell herself, as she obediently padded through the doors at Taylor’s heels, feeling like she should be keep her eyes half-lowered. And not so that she could keep an eye on the truly spectacular ass attached to the swaying hips in front of her. The fact that, once they were through the doors, she found herself pulled up to stand at Taylor’s side, one hand finding it’s way to the small of Amy’s back and guiding her with gentle, firm control towards the ticket counter. Not something that was going to help her maintain any sort of mental composure, to say the least, and neither was the fact that Amy couldn’t shake the feeling that -based on Taylor’s body language and the way she moved them through the crowd- she was being both subtly shown off and kept apart to and from the crowd.
Like she belonged to Taylor, and Taylor wanted everyone to know it, but also like Taylor wasn’t going to let anyone get close enough to so much as breathe on her without permission. It was, she decided as her brain attempted to short-circuit entirely, a deeply unfair combination of sensations to inflict on a girl who was already barely holding herself together.
Was Taylor doing this on purpose, or was it just instinct?
Knowing her luck, it was the latter, which only made it worse because it meant Taylor wasn’t even trying and was still reducing Amy to a flustered puddle. Ugh. Why did she have to be so perfect? She was hitting so many of Amy’s buttons, ones that she hadn’t even been sure she had outside of the forums until it started happening to her in real life, and she probably didn’t have a clue.
“What did you want to see?” Taylor asked quietly, her voice low and warm near Amy’s ear as they joined the queue, and Amy had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from making an entirely undignified noise at the proximity of Taylor’s lips to her skin. God, she smell so good, what was she wearing? And how could Amy make sure that she wore more of it every time that they were together? Stil, she had to focus, because she had a plan, and she intended to follow it.
“A-ah, right! Uhm, I was thinking that we would see Under Your Scars?” she offered tentatively, crossing her fingers and trying to hide it as she hoped that her offering -request, really- would be accepted. A lesbian action-romance, and apparently a pretty steamy one, about the developing relationship between a low-ranking Hunter and the healer who was constantly patching her up in dungeons. Not remotely subtle, nor much in the way of patience. She’d already tried patience and subtlety, and now it was time for the more direct approach.
Taylor arched one eyebrow at her, looking curious, as they approached the counter. Did she…not know what Amy was talking about? The movie was freshly into theaters, the trailers and advertisements were everywhere. She had to have seen something about it, right? There was no way that Amy was about to spring the biggest hint on the planet to an oblivious and unaware crush, right?
Right?
“Under Your Scars, huh? I think I saw bits of previews for that on Youtube before I skipped ‘em. It’s a hunter flick, right? The lead actress looked like she was doing a good job in the fight scenes.” she mused, proving that she was, in fact, entirely oblivious. Which…might actually make this entire enterprise better? Get her a little embarrassed, a little aroused, then move in for a kiss at the right moment, or…or even hold her hand for a good portion of the movie?
“Y-yes! That’s the one! I’ll get the tickets, why don’t you decide what snacks you want?” Amy stuttered, imagining that warm hand -the hand that had left her ass pink and tender- instead twining its fingers through her own…~!
“Sure, sounds good.” Taylor agreed easily, though there was something in her eyes that almost made Amy wonder if she was going to say something else instead, before stepping away, her fingers trailing along the curve of Amy’s waist in a way that absolutely had to be deliberate. “Want anything specific, or do I have free reign?”
“Free reign.” Amy managed to respond, because the alternative was trying to make a coherant decision when half of her brain was picturing other circumstances she would like to give Taylor ‘free reign’ in and the other half was focused almost entirely on the lingering warmth of Taylor’s touch. “J-just suprise me, I’ll be happy with whatever you decide.”
“Dangerous words~.” the taller girl drawled, smirking as she sauntered away towards the concession section, leaving Amy to fumble her way through buying tickets from the amused-but-jealous looking boy running the booth.
Who, judging by the way his eyes kept flicking past her shoulder towards the concession stand and the goddess currently leaning over it, was very much regretting that he was on the wrong side of the counter to make any sort of move. Not that he would have stood a chance even if he had been, but Amy felt a small, petty flicker of satisfaction at his disappointment all the same.
That’s right, buddy. She’s here with me. Eat your heart out.
It wasn’t a particularly kind train of though, and certainly not one she’d normally have indulged in, but she was a girl on a mission, dammit, and that mission included reveling -if quietly and internally- in the desire that others looked at Taylor with, and the jealousy they directed towards Amy.
Passing over some cold, hard cash, she accepted the printed stubs in return with a smile that was probably a touch more smug than was strictly polite or necessary, she turned to find Taylor was already waiting for her with an armload of snacks that had Amy’s eyebrows crawling to her hairline. A large popcorn -the absurdly oversized kind, the ones that came in a bucket bigger than Amy’s head-, two large drinks, a box of Sour Patch Kids, some M&Ms, and what looked remarkable like a sizeable chocolate-covered pretzel balancing somewhat-precariously atop the popcorn.
“That’s…that’s a lot of food, Taylor.” she pointed out, somewhat bewildered, and Taylor gave her a somewhat-sheepish shrug in response. A dangerous thing to do, given all that she was carrying, and Amy darted forward to take some of the load off of her before something disastrous happened.
“Thanks. And yeah, sure, it’s a lot of food, but there are two of us, and I wasn’t sure what you would like best.” Taylor agreed, sounding just as sheepish as her shrug had been, before her eyes flicked down to the tickets. “Everything set on your end?”
“I got the tickets.” Amy confirmed, somewhat unnecessarily, as she clutched the two pieces of paper in her hand tightly enough that one might have wondered if she feared they would vanish. Tickets that she’d carefully chosen the seats for, tickets that would give she and Taylor the best seats in the house for what she had in mind.
Seats that she, with anxious excitement, proudly presented to Taylor once they found the right auditorium: the two seats directly beneath the projector, providing both the best view and -consequentially to the bright light of the projector itself- the most privacy. No one would be able to see them or anything that they were doing, if anything ended up being done. Like kissing, or holding hands, or Amy using Taylor’s shoulder as a pillow while they watched the movie together…
Fortunately for her, Taylor was to busy performing the admittedly-difficult ask of getting into the reclining seat with her bounty to see the way Amy blushed and fidgeted at the thought of it all. God, what was wrong with her? Was this what it meant to be ‘a lovesick fool’? Because she felt like an idiot that was going to start composing shitty poetry, not the snarky hard-case she’d spent most of her professional life being.
It was, she reflected for the umpteenth -and definitely not the last, she was sure- time tonight, as she finally managed to settle herself in the seat next to Taylor’s and accept the popcorn bucket between her legs, deeply unfair what one tall, competent, smirking idiot could do to a girl’s composure. Before they’d met, her life had been predictable, orderly, and restrained. Amy Dallon and Amelia Lavere, both names burdened by a hell of a lot of expectations and baggage, the professionally cynical and emotionally dead career healer seemed to be well and truly left behind these days, replaced by a girl that blushed at the drop of a hat and spent a good portion of her day daydreaming instead.
But she wasn’t going to be daydreaming now. No, right now at least a few of her dreams were coming true, and she intended to hold tightly to every single moment of it. So, as the previews began, she took a deep breath and began counting down the minutes until it would be ‘cute’ instead of ‘weird’ to try and take Taylor’s hand.
###############################################################
Four and a half hours later, bellies full with a mix of cinema snacks and fine dining at a local Mediterranean restaurant, the pair were walking slowly through the very same park that Taylor had first met Paige in, hand in hand. Something that had started about halfway through the movie, lasted in spurts through dinner, and been unbroken since they had left the restaurant, leaving both girls both happy and pink-cheeked.
Of course, part of the pink-cheeks also came from the fact that Amy had been doing her level best to tease Taylor throughout the entire night, with clumsy but earnest innuendos, flirtatious looks, and certain physical displays -such as pressing herself against Taylor’s side so that the taller girl’s arm was somewhat-enveloped by her breasts and her knuckles brushed against the crotch of Amy’s pants- that had left both of them feeling more than a little bit warmed up.
And now they were wandering through the shadowed trees, each of them knowing what they wanted to say but hesitating to actually open their mouths and speak. Each of them excited, each of them nervous, and each of them feeling the tension and excitement of the moment ratcheting higher and higher, before Taylor finally broke.
“Amy…do you like me?” she asked, bluntly, before flushing deeper as Amy gave her a somewhat incredulous look. “Alright, I’m sorry, that was a dumb question with an obvious answer. What I mean is, what are you looking for, and…are you sure this isn’t because of what happened in the dungeon? I don’t want to take advantage of you…”
“You’re not. I invited you out, Taylor, and we’ve been flirting for ages now. If I wasn’t interested, we wouldn’t be here.” Amy denied immediately, shaking her head as incredulity gave way to a small smile, though it was a nervous one. “I…I know what I want. I know that, in spite of everything, I…enjoyed what happened at the end of the dungeon. I know I want it to happen again, and I know that I want you to kiss me.”
“You…” Taylor started, looking into Amy’s eyes, only to cut herself off as her System-enhanced social senses answered the unfinished question. Amy was being entirely serious. Amy had enjoyed being spanked, Amy was sexually -and likely romantically- interested in her, and Amy very much wanted to kiss her. When you put all of that together…
A gasp flew from Amy’s lips as Taylor -deft and strong and sudden in a way that only a capable Hunter could be- swept her into her arms and abandoned the path, flitting through the trees fast enough that Amy was forced to bury her face in Taylor’s neck to keep herself from getting dizzy. Then they stopped, and she had all of a moment to take in the small, secluded, and thickly-foliaged area they were now in before her back was against a tree, her wrists were pinned over her head, and Taylor’s thigh was between her legs. Not grinding, not even pressing particularly hard, just…pinning her in place, and Amy’s already warm and damp sex rapidly started heading towards hot and wet.
“Taylor—!“ she managed, the words half a gasp and half a moan, near-breathless, eyes wide as they searched those of the other, and what she found there made her knees go weak in a way that had absolutely nothing to do with the position she was in. Taylor’s eyes were dark, hungry even, and yet the incredibly focus in them wasn’t on sex, but in sussing out any reluctance or hesitation on Amy’s part.
She wouldn’t find any. Amy might be nervous, but she knew that she wouldn’t regret whatever happened next. She hadn’t regretted putting her life in Taylor’s hands, and even when Taylor had possessed near-absolute power over her, she’s still restrained herself to doing only what was necessary.
“Tell me to stop, and I will.” Taylor’s voice was low, husky, and full of heat, of promise, and Amy pointedly didn’t say a damn thing, instead arching her chest as best she could between the two points of contact that the beautiful, dominant girl was holding her in place with. Which had the unintended but amazing sensation of grinding herself -her clit, to be specific against the thigh pressed between her legs.
A high, helpless little whimper escaped her at the contact, and Amy’s eyes fluttered half-shut as heat lanced up her spine in a way that had her toes curling inside her footwear and her body twisting for more and less at the same time. Taylor’s eyes darkened further, something hungry and pleased flickering through her expression, and the hand pinning Amy’s wrists tightened just enough to remind her that she wasn’t going anywhere.
Not that she wanted to, not at all.
“That’s not a no, Amelia, and it certainly feels like a yes. But why don’t you use your words?” Taylor murmured, the use of her full name sending another full-body shiver through Amy’s body, her free hand coming up to cup Amy’s cheek. “Why don’t you say please~?”
“P-please…” Amy whispered, the word escaping before she could even think to be embarrassed about it, her cheeks burning hot enough that she was certain Taylor could feel the heat against her palm. And then, because saying it once just didn’t feel like it was enough, because something deep and needy in her chest demanded it, she said it again, softer and more desperate. “Please, Taylor…”
“Good girl.”
Two words. Just two words, spoken low and warm and ever-so-pleased, but still Amy swore that she felt her eyes roll back slightly at the sound of them, felt the heat gather rapidly in her chest and in her core, felt them echo through her mind in time with her pulse. Then she wasn’t thinking much of anything at all, because Taylor’s lips were on hers.
It wasn’t what Amy had expected, that kiss. It wasn’t tentative, wasn’t exploratory or gentle or even awkwardly done in a way that spoke of inexperience. It wasn’t even the swoon-worthy, passionate, soft and romantic thing that she had -on rare occasions, though more commonly of late- dreamed of in the private quiet of her room. Instead, it was fierce, it was hungry, and it felt possessive. Like Taylor was laying claim to her, even more blatantly than she had at the theatre, and taking what she wanted from her at the same time.
She melted into it instantly, letting her head fall back and her body to go limper in what could only be described as submission. Something that would probably embarrass, or even infuriate, her under other circumstances, but not this one. Never this one, and she did what she could to return the affection she was receiving without doing anything that might…disrupt her place.
Which was, apparently, exactly what Taylor wanted from her, because the taller girl made a low, pleased sound against her lips that vibrated all the way down to Amy’s toes. Then Taylor’s tongue was tracing the seam of her mouth, demanding entry rather than asking, and Amy parted her lips with another helpless whimper, granting it without hesitation.
God, was this what kissing was supposed to feel like? Because the few clumsy attempts she’d made in the past -such as the awkward peck with that boy in middle school, the experimental kiss with one of Vicky’s friends at a sleepover that had been born more of a dare than anything else, and the bare handful of kisses she’d had on dates that had been foisted on her since- not only paled in comparison, but didn’t even deserve to be called ‘kisses’. They’d been mouths bumping together, often painfully, and not enjoyable in the least. Calling those ‘kisses’ would be like calling a ‘candle’ an ‘inferno’ because both involved flames.
She lost track of how long it lasted, that heated, dominating, tongue-tangling kiss. It might have been seconds, it might have been minutes, it might have been an entire age of the world for all that Amy could tell. There was only the press of Taylor’s body against hers, the firm warmth of Taylor’s thigh pressed between her legs, the tongue that was exploring every inch of her mouth, and the heat raging through them both.
Then the kiss broke and she found Taylor’s face nuzzling into her throat, that same tongue dragging along the length of her pounding pulse before…
She gasped, then moaned, as Taylor’s teeth latched onto her skin and the woman dominating her started to suckle. Started to form a hickey, a mark over ownership, one that would be obvious to everyone, and she half-heartedly tried to struggle in spite of the fresh flood of wetness between her legs.
“T-Taylor, wait, p-people will see—!” Amy managed to plea, her voice breathy and weak in a way that did absolutely nothing to lend her protest any actual weight. Especially not when her hips were rolling forward of their own volition, grinding her down against that firm, wonderfully muscled thigh in a way that drew another whimper from her own throat.
Taylor hummed against her skin, the vibration sending another shiver down Amy’s spine, before she pulled back just enough to admire the rapidly darkening mark she’d left at the juncture of Amy’s neck and shoulder. Her smirk, when Amy could see it, made her stomach flip and her breath catch.
“Yes…yes, they will.” she practically purred the words, looking every inch the deeply satisfied cat -or, perhaps more accurately, a large predator. Like a lion, or a tiger, perhaps.- before she flushed and stepped back rapidly enough that Amy dropped to her knees at the taller girl’s feet. Before she could start to feel rejected, before the lack of warmth and affection could set her onto an unfortunate spiral, she continued. “I…sorry. I shouldn’t have just taken you like that, and I shouldn’t have given you a mark like that without your consent. It’s no excuse, but I let myself get caught up in the moment…and here of all places…”
“Taylor.” Amy interrupted, somewhat unsteady from the situational and emotional whiplash as she got up and re-closed the distance now separating them. Reaching out and taking Taylor’s hand into her own, she pulled it up to her chest, pressing it’s knuckles between her breasts. “Taylor, I’m okay with it. I wanted it, I enjoyed it. I asked for it, remember? You gave the chance for me to tell you to back off, didn’t you?”
“I…you did, but I just got pretty intense pretty quickly, there. And it’s the first date, I shouldn’t be coming after you as hard as that…” she protested, eyes darting between where her hand was and Amy’s face, and Amy scoffed, stepping closer again and frowning at her.
“If I didn’t want it, you’d know it. But I do want it, want you. I have since that fucking dungeon, since you spanked me, and certainly since we met in that hospital. That’s why I spent all those days flirting with you over the phone, and that’s why I asked you out.” she quite literally prodded, using her free hand to poke her girlfriend (?) in the stomach, her frown turning into a pout. “Unless you regret making me a part of your party, Miss Party Leader? Unless you regret going on a date with me and kissing me?”
“What? No! No, of course not!” Taylor responded immediately, with an emphasis that was apparently strong enough to satisfy Amy, given the way that her pout immediately gave way to a small, satisfied smile. A smile that, in turn, gave way to a smirk that was almost worthy of Taylor herself, and the taller girl found herself momentarily off-balance as Amy used the hand still pressed between her breasts to tug her closer.
“Then stop second-guessing yourself, you idiot.” the shorter girl said, her voice fond even as the words themselves were anything but. “I’m not made of glass, and I’m not interested in you treating me like I am. Kind of the opposite, really, so why don’t you manhandle me a little bit more?”
She couldn’t believe that she was saying the words out loud, and if she wasn’t so desperately turned on and so focused on making sure Taylor didn’t do some stupid, noble bullshit like leave her ‘for her own good’, she’d never have been able to get the words out. But she was focused on that, and the comforting weight and warmth of her ring on the hand hold Taylor’s to her breasts gave her the strength to press on.
Taylor stared at her for a long moment, eyes searching Amy’s face with that same intense scrutiny as before from earlier, and Amy could practically see the moment that whatever lingering doubts she had about Amy’s sincerity and desires crumbled and fell away. The taller girl’s expression shifted, that smirk creeping back across her lips, and Amy felt a fresh shiver of anticipation roll through her even before Taylor moved.
Which she did, and quickly. One moment Amy was standing on her own two feet, the next she was being pressed down to her knees, Taylor’s fingers tangled in her hair and tilting her head as far back as it could safely go.
“Stay.” Taylor commanded, voice low and rough, and Amy’s breath stuttered out of her in a way that had absolutely nothing to do with the position she was in and everything to do with the tone the instructions had been given in. The taller girl studied her like that for a long moment, head tilted slightly to the side, eyes glittering with something that was equal parts hunger and consideration, before her free hand came up to trace along the line of Amy’s jaw.
“You really do look beautiful like this, on your knees for me.” she murmured, almost as though she was talking to herself, and Amy felt her cheeks burn even as another pulse of heat surged through her core. “I think I want to keep you here for a while, just like this. Would you like that, Amelia? Would you like to stay on your knees for me?”
The question, soft as it was, had a near-physical impact on the more submissive of the pair, and she had to swallow hard before she could trust herself to answer. A feat made all the more difficult by the use of her proper name. Her mother had only ever pulled it out for discipline before, and she couldn’t help but feel an embarrassed sort of thrill at the thought of how appropriate that fact was now. Her voice, when it came, was barely more than a whisper, but it was steady enough. “Yes. Please. I’m yours.”
“Good girl.” Those two words again, spoken with that same warm, pleased tone, and Amy felt something settle somewhere deep in her chest like a brand. Another mark Taylor had left on her, even if it wasn’t so obvious as the bruise on her neck. Then Taylor’s thumb was tracing along her bottom lip, dragging it down slightly, and Amy didn’t even try to restrain the urge to kiss it’s pad. Something that seemed to please Taylor quite a bit, from the way the still-standing girl bit her lower lip with bright eyes. It press against her mouth again, the downward drag firmer and more insistent, and Amy let her mouth fall open to accept the digit into her mouth.
She sucked, gentle and obedient, her tongue swirling around the tip of Taylor’s thumb in a way that had the taller girl drawing in a sharp breath through her teeth. Amy’s eyes fluttered up to meet Taylor’s, and what she saw in them —the dark, hungry pleasure, the satisfaction, the something dangerously (for her heart rate) close to adoration— made her own eyes flutter shut as she moaned around the digit.
“Oh, you’re a natural at this, aren’t you?” Taylor breathed, her thumb pressing down against Amy’s tongue and earning another helpless little whimper, though there was a distinct edge of embarrassed agreement, from the brunette. “Submitting to me, kneeling for me. Kneeling for your queen. Are you enjoying yourself, Amelia?”
She could only nod, the thumb still in her mouth making any verbal response impossible, but the desperate, eager bob of her head must have communicated her answer well enough. Taylor’s smile widened, sharp and pleased, and she slowly withdrew her thumb from Amy’s mouth, dragging it along the kneeling girl’s lower lip as she did so and leaving a faint sheen of saliva in its wake.
“Use your words, sweetheart.” Taylor reminded her, the hand in Amy’s hair tightening just slightly, just enough to send a fresh thrill racing down the healer’s spine. “I want to hear you say it. Tell me how much you’re enjoying being on your knees for me.”
“I—I’m enjoying it.” Amy managed, her voice thready and breathless, her cheeks flaming so hot that she half-expected steam to rise from them. The admission, spoken aloud into the quiet hush of the secluded grove, was almost more than she could bear, and yet the all-to-honest words kept tumbling out of her regardless, dragged free by that low, commanding voice and the dark heat in Taylor’s eyes. “I love it. I love being on my knees for you, I love when you—when you call me that, when you take charge. When you spanked me in that dungeon, I loved it so much. I’ve been getting myself off ever since, thinking about it.”
The confession hung in the air between them, raw and heated and far more honest than Amy had ever intended to be on a first date. Her face burned with the enormity of what she’d just admitted, and for one terrifying heartbeat she wondered if she’d gone too far, said too much, shattered whatever delicate thing they were building before it had a chance to take root.
Made Taylor think that, in spite of everything that was happening right now, she was nothing more than a perverted weirdo that was practically stalking her mentally.
But Taylor’s eyes only darkened further, a slow, wicked heat kindling in their depths that made Amy’s breath catch all over again.
“Have you, now?” Taylor murmured, crouching down so that they were nearly eye-to-eye, the hand in Amy’s hair loosening enough that she was able to drop her eyes demurely, though that changed quickly enough as Taylor’s other hand pressed a finger to the soft underside of her chin and tilted her head back up. “Is that why you arranged this date, Amelia? Because you wanted to be mine?”
“I arranged this date because I already was. I’ve always been kind of into this stuff, and you…you’re everything I could hope for in a domme, so…”Amy admitted, strongly and in a rush at first, before trailing off somewhat shyly at the end.
Taylor’s eyes searched hers for a long moment, before she smiled and gave Amy a soft kiss on the lips.
“Then I’m going to take you home, and you and I are going to have some serious conversations…and I’m going to do some serious research. Because I just saved a girl from a shitty dom not so very long ago, right in this very clearing. And I’m not inclined to be anything like he was. You’re never going to look at me with the same desperate eyes that she did.” she declared a moment later, sweeping Amy into her arms, and as her newly-designated domme started flitting through the trees, Amy scowled instinctively against her shoulder.
Just who was this other girl, this other submissive, that her hero had saved, hmm?! Trying to steal her queen away before she’d even had her. Well, she wouldn’t find Amy to be easy competition! She’d gotten here first, and Taylor had saved her from monsters, not a crappy boyfriend!
Her ring throbbed, heating on her finger, a chastisement.
If this other girl was going to go after Taylor, she’d better know her place, and she’d better not be trying to take advantage of Taylor’s good nature either. Amy would make sure of it. Amy would protect her queen from anyone that wasn’t worthy of her attention!
The burning faded to a soothing warmth. Approval.
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Paige McAbee had come to a rather significant conclusion: that she had a crush roughly the size of the Medhall Headquarters Building on Taylor Hebert. She wasn’t sure when that had happened -it had probably been somewhere between the relief at the rescue, the other girl making her feel safe, and the fact that Taylor looked like a goddess in leggings and could kick ass while she was at it-, but she was pretty damn sure that it had.
Which is why she had gone out of her way to get Taylor’s number and text her as often as possible. Nothing flirtatious, really, just chatting and making friends and learning more about her so that she didn’t look like a total freak of a stalker when she started using the information her P.I. team had gathered on the other girl to her advantage, with the objective being a date or two.
Or, you know, three or four.
Or however many it took to convince Taylor that the two of them belonged together, because Paige had decided she was nothing if not patient and thorough when it came to things she truly wanted.
And, oh, how she wanted.
It was probably a bit much, hiring a P.I. team to look into a girl she’d known for all of a week, but Paige had money to burn and a healthy appreciation for being prepared. Besides, it wasn’t like she was using the information for anything nefarious. She just wanted to know what Taylor liked. What made her smile. What her favorite foods were, her favorite music, the little things that could give an enterprising bisexual disaster of a sub all that she needed to get herself collared by her hero.
Not that Sabah entirely approved of what she was doing, being quite concerned about Paige’s state of mind and the fact that she could be traumatized and vulnerable and latching onto the person that made her feel safe and cared for in an attempt to find stability and security in a currently-tumultuous life. Which was probably true, but Paige liked to think she had enough self-awareness to know that her attraction to and appreciation for Taylor was as genuine as her gratitude was.
Of course, researching Taylor had also led to her finding out that this was the same Taylor that had survived the Double Dungeon incident, which had been a hell of a shock, and only made her appreciate the other girl more. She’d been through something unfathomable, literally something Paige could scarcely wrap her head around the concept of, but she had come out the other side as a fundamentally good person.
It only made her more beautiful.
Of course, the downside was, other people knew Taylor was beautiful too. Which was why Taylor was currently on a date with some other bitch -one that probably couldn’t even hope to appreciate what an amazing person she was, just saw those beautiful eyes, big tits, amazing ass and legs, and started drooling like a teenaged boy- and Paige was moping around her bedroom, naked and pouting and annoyingly turned on.
And itching for a bit of fun.
Eugene, bastard that he was, hadn’t been wrong when he’d said that she was kinky. Very kinky. Always nervous about trying something new, always enthusiastic about it once she did, and always ready for a bit of fun with her partner. As far as she could tell, she was one of the most masochistic, submissive, ‘creative’, nymphomaniacal people in the local kink scene, and now she’d gone without so much as a spanking or a grope for days.
And it wasn’t even coming with the added fun of being edged or forced chastity. It was coming from a drought, a lack of availability. Well, unless she took herself to one of the clubs and played ‘sub-for-a-night’, which was distinctly less appealing at the moment than it might otherwise have been. If only because she knew playing that particular game -which could be akin to Russian Roulette, at times- when she was freshly out of a badly-ended relationship was a distinctly Bad Idea.
Even if her body was making a very compelling argument to the contrary.
So instead she settled for the next best thing, flopping back onto her bed with a frustrated huff and reaching for the drawer of her nightstand, where a rather extensive collection of toys awaited her attention. Not exactly the same as having someone else take control, no, but it would scratch the itch well enough to keep her from doing something stupid.
Probably.
And it would give her something to do besides obsessing over the fact that Taylor was, at this very moment, somewhere out in the city, with someone else.
The thought soured her mood almost as quickly as her hand found the toy she’d intended to use, and she -with very little thought- changed targets and withdrew not one of her normal vibrating dildos, but a more special piece that was particularly stimulating. Electrifying, really, and she smirked slightly at the fully intended pun, even as she turned on the mana-powered devices first setting, a buzzing hum filling the air.
The little crackle of electricity that danced across the toy’s surface had her shivering in sinful anticipation before she’d even brought it anywhere near where she wanted it, and she let her thighs fall open with a soft, needy, hungry sigh as she settled back against her pillows.
She started slow, trailing the toy along the inside of one thigh, gasping softly at the sharp little sparks that bit at her skin and left tingling warmth in their wake. Just enough to sting, just enough to make her squirm, and she found her thoughts drifting -as they so often did these days- to Taylor. To strong, capable hands and that calm, steady presence. To the fierceness, the fearlessness, the effortless power and dominance and authority. To the way she’d simply taken control of the situation, protected her, and humiliated the person who has broken her heart.
She imagined that it was Taylor’s hand holding the toy instead of her own, Taylor’s voice murmuring instructions and praise in that low, warm tone she’d gotten just the barest taste of, and the fantasy had her arching off the bed with a soft and needy sound before she finally pressed the buzzing, crackling toy where she so desperately wanted it.
The first contact wrenched a sharp cry from her throat, electricity dancing across her clit in a way that had her hips bucking helplessly, her free hand fisting in the sheets. God, that was good. That was so good, and she chased the sensation shamelessly, rolling her hips up against the toy as she imagined that it was Taylor doing this to her. Taylor watching her squirm, Taylor deciding exactly how much pleasure she was allowed to have, Taylor making her beg for it~!
“Please…” she whimpered to the empty room, the word slipping out before she could think better of it, and the embarrassment that followed only stoked the fire higher. She was a mess, a needy, desperate mess, getting herself off to fantasies of a girl who didn’t even know how she felt yet, who was out on a date with someone else. The thought should have soured things, should have made her stop. Instead it just made her hornier, just made her want to meet this other girl and show her what it really meant to submit to a woman like Taylor…and make sure that she understood that there was a hierarchy.
People who got rescued by the hero got first dibs on being ravished by the hero, and the cute side-characters got their own turn later.
Which was a ridiculous, possessive thought to have about a girl she’d been on exactly zero dates with, but Paige had never claimed to be reasonable when it came to her desires. She was passionate, she was greedy, and she knew what she wanted.
She wanted Taylor.
The toy crackled against her clit again, harder this time as she pressed it down with deliberate cruelty, and she keened, her thighs trembling and her back arching off the mattress. The electricity bit and danced and licked at her most sensitive flesh, and she imagined Taylor’s voice in her ear, low and amused, telling her what a greedy little whore she was. Then it darkened, hardened and heated, asking her who she thought she was. Telling her it was a bold, stupidly bold, thing for a slut like her to do, thinking that she had any say in what Taylor did, with who, or what the hierarchy of anyone beneath Taylor was.
It promised her punishment, that voice. It promised her that she needed to remember her place, and that Taylor would remind her. Return her. Rebuke her. Swapping which hand was controlling her toy, she scrabbled with slick fingers in her drawer once more to pull out her favorite flogger.
The first lash across her breasts was clumsy, the angle awkward and the force uneven, but it stung beautifully all the same, and Paige moaned at the bite of it. It wasn’t the same as having someone else wield it, wasn’t the same as surrendering control and letting another person decide how hard to strike and where, but it was something. It was a way to chase that voice in her head, that fantasy of Taylor looming over her with that dark, hungry, dominant intensity, and she gave herself over to it entirely.
She struck herself again, and again, the flogger’s tails leaving faint pink stripes across her chest and stomach while the crackling toy continued its electrifying assault between her legs. Each strike sent a fresh jolt of heat lancing through her, the pain twining together with the pleasure until she could hardly tell where one ended and the other began. She was sobbing now, soft little broken sounds spilling from her lips as she worked herself higher and higher, that imagined voice growing more demanding, more cruel, more perfect with every passing moment.
She struck herself harder, the flogger catching the underside of one breast and then the other, the sting blooming hot and sharp across her flushed skin. The toy crackled and buzzed against her clit, and her hips bucked wildly against the relentless stimulation, chasing the edge that was rushing up to meet her with terrifying speed. Faster than it should be, alone, even with the tools she was using. Even with how pent up she was.
“Please, please, please—!” she babbled, the words tumbling from her lips in a desperate litany as she struck herself one final time, the flogger’s tails wrapping around her ribs and biting deep, the sting blooming bright and hot. The toy crackled, the voltage going straight through her clit to lance along her spine in a way that had her vision whiting out at the edges, and she could feel herself teetering right on the precipice, every muscle in her body drawing taught as a bowline.
In her mind, that voice —Taylor’s voice— gave her permission. Told her she could come, that she’d earned it, that she was a good girl for surrendering so beautifully.
So she did.
The orgasm slammed into her like a train, ripping through her body with a force that left her shaking and gasping, the flogger tumbling from suddenly-weak fingers as every muscle locked tight and then shattered all at once. White-hot pleasure cascaded through her in wave after wave, the toy still crackling against her oversensitized clit, prolonging the climax until it bordered on too much, until she was thrashing against her sheets with tears streaming down her flushed cheeks and her name tearing free from her throat in a ragged, broken scream.
“TAYLOR—!”
The name echoed through the room, raw and desperate and impossibly loud in the quiet of her bedroom, and Paige had only just begun to come down from the high —had only just begun to register her own mortification at how loudly she’d cried out for a girl who couldn’t possibly hear her— when the doors to her balcony burst inward with a violent crash.
Glass rattled in its frames, the curtains billowing wildly as the night air rushed in, and Paige’s heart seized in her chest as a tall, svelte, finely-dressed figure appeared in a whirl of violent movement in her room, two gleaming sickle-swords and her green eyes burning with an inner fire that promise violence.
“Paige, I’m here! Are you alri-!” the figure shouted, only for a strangled choking sound to cut them -cut her- off as her eyes registered the sight before her. The sight of Paige’s lewdly spread legs, soaked pussy shimmering in the low light, lightning still crawling over the toy buried inside her, chest marred by whip marks.
Two heartbeats stuttered to a halt as two young women stared at one another, each full of very different kinds of passion, each enthralled by the sight before them. Each paralyzed, each intrigued, each fascinated.
Each aroused.
Then the alarms went off.