You have my attention, my hospitality, and my favors, is that not enough, cariad?— she teased her, then again, with that melodious and silky voice of hers, as her neck throbbed under Sathonas yearning grip.—
Sathona's body imposed itself over Rowena's with a lover's softness, snagging her to herself, causing her back to arch gloriously, making her black hair falling heavily like an ebony waterfall, for the rigor of that face made hers draw back, as if she were drinking from that mouth. The duchess's lips were as silky as her voice, and her tongue was as scathing and unerring as her words; and thus, this exchange was as intimate as the talks they had shared before, only this time, the language was completely carnal. As Sathona receded from the kiss, she seemed to take the duchess's breath with her for a moment, and gave it back with that passionate and cunning last confession, which drew a mischievous smile from Rowena's red and gibbous lips. She tilted her face slightly, as if to allow those bony hands to feel the contrasting warmth and softness her exposed neck and cleavage. She knew she had (unintendedly) won, and she was savoring her higher ground.—
—There it was, a tingle running through his limbs at Sathona's admission. She drew some air, as if she were to answer her yielding words, but soon her lips were sealed with the glacial feeling of having the other witches mouth pressed against hers. He was filled with that first kiss, a furtive, almost aggressive and eager one that sent an electric tingle to his throbbing lips. During the brief separation that followed, Rowena opened her eyes, if only for a few seconds, only to gaze heavy-lidded at the prospect of those thin lips of hers, and soon Sathona's cold breath filled her mouth again. The next few kisses were small and quick, almost desperate, anticipating that, little by little, the taste of the duchess filled the witch with an addictive hunger, and this almost made the welsh laugh with delight.
The necromantic’s hands now reached for that swan-like neck, grasping it with care, as she felt she needed to bring the duchess closer to herself. And in between that intimate connection, in almost a sly manner, she muttered with unprecedented honesty:
— And against every speckle of sound reasoning, I would give in to your trap. I would give in to my impulses. To my yearning for that delicate neck, to the sheen on your skin and the glimmer in your eyes. To make yourself mine while deep inside I give myself to you. Oh, how I would love to give in to you. — That was the last straw for the necromantic, and she knew all too well she was beyond every limit she imposed to herself. Another sigh, one of passion and surrender escaped her just as she closed her eyes, tilting her head to the right to join her lips against Rowena’s reds in an initially fervid kiss. Sathona seemed doubtful, since the affectionate gesture lasted only but a moment, but the woman’s taste lingered in her, and she couldn’t contain herself from a few more tender and frequent kisses, before joining their lips fully once again.
Sathona had laid herself totally bare, and in her mind, she half-expected her counterpart to replicate and bring again some distance between them again. Her eyes then slightly opened to the sight of those enticing lips, and that pearly and dazzling smile. The way she breathed, slightly agitated in almost a signal of anticipation, made the duchess’ whole body vibrate, which Sathona could feel on her hands, now one of them under the soft touch of her countepart’s. The words flowed yet again, those sweet word adorned by the silkiness of that captivating voice. Her own lips trembled in that fascinating temptation, and the mesmerizing implication of those questions. Every trace and vestige of her characteristic strength continued to steadily abandon her will, with her jaw almost imperceivably trembling to the mere idea of making that sliver of distance once and for all, fully disappear.
and that crescent smile sharpened more than ever, enriched by pure joy and pleasure, for tempting was her favorite art, and she craved to see what reaction would her counterpart reveal; would you the give in, or would she try to impose herself in a futile attempt? She was ever-so delighted and expectant.—
Oh, but how you’d love to prey on me, wouldn’t you? To have me at your mercy, bent by your strength... How’d you love to take me by the neck, wrap your cold fingers around it, and feel the pulse of my mortal life under your grip… —her velvety voice hissed once more, in a lowered tone that was almost like a whisper, and her hand directed Sathona's to her warm neck, posing it there.— I, who dared to tempt you with my beauty and wittiness…— she pressed on, keeping her face against the witch's, and her free hand took Sathona's left hand, and it follow the other one already resting on her neck.— Oh, how you'd love that, wouldn't you, huntress? For you are an Artemis of sorts and manners, of impulses and strength... And you are so close to having me, to overpower me, or... Is it that I already have you in my trap? —her words seemed vicious, but her voice was inviting, alluring, and absolutely sensuous,
—The other witch's words seemed to draw a stifled chuckle through a soft snort, and her smile became a more crescent curve that revealed her pearly teeth, which guarded the promise of that beautiful mouth of hers. The duchess lifted her face a bit more, almost as if she meant to reach for that face, maybe; or or even to expose more openly that swan-like neck, and more so, her lively and soft chest, which was seemingly struggling under her agitated breath that pressed her breasts against her dress's cleavage, making the rubies glitter with the rouse she was under. She then felt the icy touch of Sathona's forehead against hers, and instead of closing her eyes, she lowered them, fixing them on the necromantic's nose and lips, which rested so unnaturally stiff after delivering such passionate remarks of devotion and surrender. Rowena took her left hand up, and rested it on the Sathona's right hand softly.—
She had already crossed every line between them, and lowering every wall and tinge of pride of her own, she closed her eyes just as she slowly pressed her forehead against Rowena’s. Those black and bony hands slided slowly, tracing the figure of the woman’s face and neck, until she let them rest on her slender shoulders. — But yet, you and I are so different, I wouldn’t know if I were to deserve such grace.
