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Above all else it wasn’t supposed to happen this way, Navia thinks. Clorinde had always been by her side for as long as she could remember.
Clorinde, entertaining her childish whims in a tabletop game. Clorinde, competing with her in their regular duels, blades crossed in a moment of tension that inevitably broke into laughter. Clorinde, older now, tucking a stray hair behind Navia’s ear and looking at her with an expression that Navia could only describe as reverence.
No one had ever looked at her that way before. It made Navia dizzy with confusion. Clorinde, her dearest friend, was always by her side until that decisive moment when everything changed.
Then; Clorinde knelt to where Navia had collapsed in grief, taking off her gloves stained red with her father’s blood and reaching for Navia’s hands like she had done so many times. All the grief turned to hatred, and with one anguished motion, she slapped them away. Navia would never forget the look of heartbreak in the other woman's eyes or the specks of blood-like paint across her high cheekbones. It broke Navia’s heart too, and fueled something hungry and bitter inside her.
She would go on to nurse that bitterness for years.
So it wasn’t supposed to happen this way. None of it was, including Callas’ death and the role Clorinde played in it, but also this, Clorinde’s tongue searching the inside of her mouth and Navia’s hands clutching her jacket as if her life depended on it. Things were still so tenuous between them.
The appearance of the traveler and the pardoning of her father had brought some much-needed relief into their dynamic, but their first dinner together after years was meant to be cordial and chaste; above all else a trial in civility. If anything, Navia had gone into it expecting it to be awkwardly polite. Maybe it was this nervous presumption that had led her to one too many drinks. Maybe Clorinde felt just as nervous because as one hour turned into two, into three, Navia watched as the glasses of wine the duelist sipped flushed her cheeks pink.
Navia was sure she looked probably even worse for wear than Clorinde did because when she stood up to head home with a quick excuse, she lost her footing in her drunken reverie.
Clorinde was instantly behind her, one hand on her shoulders stabilizing her, the other hand on the small of Navia’s back. Clorinde had always been just a breadth taller than her, and with her face close to Navia’s to hold her upright–ever the gentleman–Navia could smell the fragrance of her signature lumidouce flower perfume and the faintness of musk beneath it. It made her head spin in a way that was altogether unattributed to the wine she had indulged in, and when she looked up into Clorinde’s eyes something settled deep and hot within Navia’s stomach.
“Are you alright, Demoiselle?” Clorinde asked, and the hand on Navia’s shoulder grasped her with the slightest firmness.
It made Navia gasp under her breath. She hadn’t felt this way in years, and it was such an unspoken and tender feeling in her youth, too small to put into words or conscious understanding. Now it pulsed hot in her veins and threatened to consume her if not acted on. It was as terrifying as it was enticing.
“Clorinde, I…” Navia began, before the reality of the situation set in upon her. They were still tucked into a corner of the mezzanine in Hotel Debord. They had names and reputations, and it was busy but not that busy. They could be recognized. Navia began to step away and that familiar ache consumed her again. With both resignation and resolution, she looked Clorinde square in the eye.
“Will you walk me home?”
The heartbeat of Fleuve Cendre pulsed most prominently at night. The bustling residence felt like Navia’s home away from home after years of sleeping underground during late nights in the Court of Fontaine, but walking into the settlement near midnight with a Champion Duelist on her arm set a feeling of alienation in Navia.
As the boss of the Spina, Navia knew she could come and go as she pleased without any commotion. The respect the residents of Fleuve Cendre had for her and the Spina di Rosula ran deep and loyal. But her relationship with Clorinde was still healing; a wound barely scabbed over. It had been years before they had been willingly seen together. So when she caught a slightly startled but knowing look Tetraeux when he saw her on Clorinde’s arm, Navia willed herself to look him back in the eye. She was tired of being ashamed of what she wanted.
Still, a feeling of trepidation loomed steadily over her even amidst the gnawing desire that threatened to consume her. Despite her drunken haze, Navia knew she was taking a risk. But when she looked to her left and saw the handsome slope of Clorinde’s jawline, when she felt the warmth pulsating from the other woman and the confident grip she held on Navia’s arm, something in her stopped caring. The part of Navia that knew better surrendered to the nagging want she had ignored and stifled for years.
When they got to the room, Clorinde hovered near the door. The rhythm of the night had reached an awkward interlude; and as if by nerves the duelist took off her signature hat and turned it about in her hands. It was almost endearing.
“Shall I excuse myself then, Demoiselle?” Clorinde said and gave a loaded and probing look to Navia. It seemed to scream both want and shame.
Navia swallowed. “Just Navia, Clorinde. If we’re to mend things we need to start with you acting less skittish around me for goodness sake.”
She tried to keep her tone light, a friendly reprimanding, but as she looked back she caught the imperceptible swipe of Clorinde’s tongue over her lips. How did Navia never notice them before, the perfect shade of mauve lipstick Clorinde wore or the gentle arch of her cupid’s bow? Navia felt lost in the tide of sudden longing.
The drunkenness had still not worn off, and in the depths of it, Navia felt small and guided as if by an invisible hand. It was terrifying, but it felt easier in this inebriated state to admit that Clorinde was an inevitability. Navia didn’t know if she believed in destiny. At the very least, she would always hold Clorinde somewhat responsible for the death of her father. But beyond that, before that, there was always Clorinde; helping her with her makeup, sharing an apple with her in the boughs of a tree, hands almost brushing a thousand times over. Navia felt seasick with the startling clarity that everything would always lead back to Clorinde. She was sure she would torture herself over this when sober.
But for now, Navia simply grabbed Clorinde’s wrist and led her into her room.
Something shifted once they were sheltered in the privacy of Navia’s room. She glanced up at the other woman and saw that darkened look in her eyes again, pupils blown out to the pitchest of blacks. She had never seen Clorinde look like that before. It made Navia ache.
Navia must have looked much the same because before she knew it Clorinde was guiding her back to the closed door, their bodies flush together. Still, Clorinde’s lips merely hovered above her own.
“I won’t hurt you again, Navia.” Clorinde breathed, barely audible. A look flashed across her face–a murky determination that echoed years of regret. “I refuse. You need to tell me if you want this.”
Navia felt like she couldn’t breathe. Her listless hands settled on the lapels of Clorinde’s jacket, grasping as if desperate. Maybe that desperation was closer to the truth than she would like to admit.
“I… you know what I want. Don’t make me say it, Clorinde.” She buried her face into her shoulder, suddenly overwhelmed. The smell of lumidouce flowers made her head hazy. A low feeling settled within her stomach. It was too big to put into words.
Clorinde’s breath was by her ear now. She was leaning down, speaking just above a whisper. “Do you want me to be selfish, my lady?” Her voice was lower than she had ever heard it before.
“I told you not to call me those titles,” Navia said and clenched her fist. “But yes. Be selfish for once in your life.”
“Then please forgive me,” she said and raised Navia’s face to hers and brought their lips together.
It was easy to get lost in the softness of Clorinde’s lips. The moment seemed to be heating up by the second, and when a prying tongue split her lips Navia welcomed it, wet and open. Clorinde’s hand was on the small of her back again, wandering dangerously close to the swell of her rear, and her other hand cradled Navia’s chin with surprising solidity.
Almost possessed, Navia let her hands stray from Clorinde’s jacket to grip the gentle slope of her hips, and at that motion, Clorinde shifted so subtly inward that Navia couldn’t help but gasp. Rolling her hips in response and demanding more friction came naturally, and when Navia felt the distinct bulge beneath Clorinde’s trousers pressing into her stomach Navia groaned into the other woman’s mouth.
Her need was all-consuming now, she was reduced to an unthinking thing guided by instinct and heat, seeking the touch of Clorinde. So when the duelist hoisted her by her legs like it was the easiest thing in the world and carried her to Navia’s bed she let her. It felt right.
The moment Navia’s back hit her sheets Clorinde’s mouth was on her neck, sucking and teasing with nips of teeth on sensitive skin. When Clorinde’s teeth carefully sunk into where her neck met her shoulder Navia shuddered, surprised by her previously unknown desire for pain. There would be marks; that much was certain. The image that flooded Navia’s mind of looking herself in the mirror the next day and seeing the proof of their liaison felt sickly satisfying. She wanted to press into the hickeys and bruises and for once feel certain of Clorinde’s role in her life.
“Need this dress off,” Clorinde murmured, and Navia agreed without hesitation.
In a more sane state of mind maybe she’d feel embarrassed to be nude around Clorinde, but all sensibility was overridden by cloying desire. She slid off her dress, and with deft hands, Clorinde helped her undo her corset.
When the expanse of her bare breasts hit the cold underground air Navia gasped. As if lost in thought, Clorinde brought ungloved fingers to the peak of Navia’s nipples, hardened long before they felt the brisk air. Clorinde rolled the stiff peaks between the pads of her fingers and Navia whined, a pitiful noise she normally would have found unbecoming as the boss of the Spina. Yet in this moment, her utter vulnerability in front of her childhood friend felt enticing beyond words.
Clorinde took a hardened nipple into her mouth, and the contrast of the enveloping warmth with the cool underground air made Navia’s eyes flutter shut. With a skilled motion, Clorinde sucked and licked the tips of her breasts with a flicking tongue. Her free hand gently massaged the other. All Navia could do was moan and roll her hips into Clorinde’s.
“You… I didn’t expect you to be so good at this,” Navia said, her hips grinding and seeking friction all the while. Determined to still have some semblance of control over the rapidly evolving situation, Navia quickly added, “Done this with a lot of other girls? Didn’t take you for the type.”
Clorinde pulled away from her breast. Not whining at the noise and loss of contact was impossible, her bashfulness abandoned in the eroticism of the moment. Clorinde looked at her with an unreadable expression, then smiled; reverent but with an unmistakable mischievousness beneath.
“Would you be jealous if I said yes, my lady?” Beyond the teasing intent, there was an undercurrent of genuine curiosity and Navia felt something ignite in her–something hungry.
Her face must have been more transparent than she intended it to be because Clorinde chuckled, low and fond. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”
Navia huffed. “Unbelievable… You’d better,” and pulled her down by the back of her neck for another kiss. This time Navia’s teeth met the other woman’s lower lip, biting down softly and then pulling in a way that made Clorinde groan. The sound made Navia smile coyly into Clorinde’s parted lips.
Navia let her hands wander down from their resting spot on Clorinde’s back, laying them coquettishly on the arch of her hips. Clorinde shifted inward, again, at that motion, and Navia felt dizzy upon feeling her hard length pressing against her center. Impatience flooded her.
“Touch me already, Clorinde. Don’t keep me waiting.” Navia said and was taken aback at the whiny quality of a statement she intended to be more demanding.
Clorinde didn’t seem to mind, however, and merely hummed in agreement into Navia’s skin and brought a hand down over the dips and curves of her body. Everywhere her hands touched burned pleasantly, and when nimble fingers brushed past intimate curls to lightly touch her, Navia’s hips bucked in arousal. The smallest touches set her alight, and Clorinde’s fingers finally reaching the place where Navia needed it most was like a fire that consumed her.
“Archons, you’re wet. Navia…” Clorinde sounded just as breathless, and knowing that she was equally affecting the other woman made a possessive part of Navia feel sated.
Driven by the whims of her body, Navia lifted her hips into Clorinde’s seeking touch. In response, Clorinde drew a long finger through the folds of her cunt, and Navia whimpered.
“Don’t tease. You owe me that much.”
Clorinde, however, seemed enraptured by the evidence of Navia’s need, and when one hand spread her inner lips as if to look, a sweet sense of exposure rushed through Navia. How unfair. Clorinde must have sensed her frustration because more deliberately this time she brought her other hand to rub circles into her clit, the other dipping one curious finger just barely into her entrance. Navia’s eyes rolled back into her head at the sheer pleasure of it all.
“And why aren’t your clothes off too?” Navia said between breaths.
Forcing herself to pull away, she began to hastily undo the buttons of Clorinde's blouse. Clorinde had to stand up off the bed to fully undress, and for a moment the lack of touch where her warmth had previously been felt was torture.
Navia watched in agony as the rigid topography of Clorinde’s toned stomach emerged from its shroud of white linen, followed closely by the built musculature of her thighs as she stripped herself of her trousers and underwear.
She must have moaned audibly because Clorinde seemed shaken from her lust and at once looked shy. It would have been cute if everything about the other woman wasn’t so sensual in this situation. Her self-consciousness just made Navia want her more.
Navia made a grasping gesture that brought Clorinde back into her arms again. Clorinde reached for her, maneuvering until she was hovering over her, and brought her lips back to the curve of her neck. Navia ran a hand up and over one of the arms bracketing her–fingertips exploring the defined swells and ridges of muscle as she took a moment to bask in the feeling of Clorinde’s body against her own. The touch of bare skin felt like sunlight and warmth pooled in Navia’s limbs. She had never touched Clorinde this intimately before; all of the physical contact between them up until now had been fleeting, transient. This, Clorinde’s body pressed flush against hers, had an unmistakable semblance of permanence to it and Navia was determined to hold onto it.
Clorinde’s kisses were more urgent now, needy in their rush, and it made Navia swell with pride to know the effect she had on her. But when she felt the head of Clorinde’s leaking cock press firm against her stomach, Navia felt a wave of lust wash over her. She needed it just as badly.
“Clorinde…” Her voice was barely a murmur, “I want you.”
At that, Clorinde sat back and knelt between her legs. The sight of her so vulnerable too, of all of Clorinde on display just for Navia’s eyes alone made her throb in need. Even just a month ago the thought that she would have seen Clorinde like this in their adult lives after her father’s trial seemed unthinkable. But now it was exciting, tantalizing, and right in a way that felt tantamount to their entire shared lives. There had always been Clorinde.
And Archons, was she well-endowed. The sheer size and girth of her length wasn’t something Navia had ever thought about. Why would she have? Even in happier days, their love was so unspoken and fragile, that Navia’s daydreams barely strayed to the concept of kissing her, much less… this. But at the vision of Clorinde now, completely nude and wanting and big, Navia became a creature of need.
Clorinde looked at Navia with black, adoring eyes and brushed a strand of hair from her cheek. “I don’t want to hurt you, Navia.” She spoke with a tenderness Navia thought she would never hear from Clorinde again.
A feeling of resolution, of certainty in her love after years of doubt, came over Navia. She wouldn’t express it to Clorinde. Not yet. But still, she hooked her legs around Clorinde’s back and drew her in. “It’s okay," she whispered. "I want you to.”
“Are you sure?” Clorinde said, and all Navia could do was sigh wistfully and place open-mouth kisses over and over again onto Clorinde’s face and neck. Yes yes yes. If it’s you, then yes.
Clorinde seemed to understand her unexpressed consent because finally she buried her face in the crook of Navia’s neck and positioned her hips so that the head of her cock pushed against the wetness of Navia’s entrance. Already greedy to be filled, Navia arched her back so that she pushed upwards in return.
She knew it would hurt. And it did, as Clorinde eased herself slowly into her all Navia could do was dig her nails into her back and gasp. The stretch of Clorinde’s cock filling her clouded her senses and made tears prick at the corner of her eyes. When Clorinde bottomed out Navia was panting, lost in her lust.
Mercifully, Clorinde paused her movement to give Navia time to adjust. She was panting too. In that minute of stillness, something clicked in Navia, that having Clorinde be the one to do this felt right. It made Navia feel whole and hollowed out simultaneously, and the feeling was addictive. Navia needed more.
“It’s okay. You can move,” Navia gasped, and Clorinde began to shift in slow, testing strokes.
Already the duelist was so deep inside her, and Navia couldn’t help but moan out her pleasure, uninhibited. Navia felt rubbed raw but the sheer girth and size of the cock fucking into her, her back arching at Clorinde’s ministrations. Her hands scrambled for purchase; something–anything to keep her tethered to earth. Navia felt like she could float away at any moment.
“Do you hear yourself, Navia?” Clorinde husked against her ear, uncharacteristically dirty, “You’re so wet for me I can hear you,” and stilled her hips, pulling out only to push fully back in.
It was hard to do anything but moan in tandem with every movement, and the push and pull of Clorinde’s body meeting hers laid her bare.
It had never felt like this for her before, so unbearably exposed and yet utterly erotic. Selfishness was a consistent rarity for Clorinde, so the feeling of her just taking for once made Navia preen under the attention.
Vaguely she was aware of the bed groaning in protest beneath her, and some part of her briefly worried that all of Fleuve Cendre could hear the way she was moaning into Clorinde’s shoulder. It was hard to care about that though when her cunt was squeezing the length of Clorinde’s cock like she never wanted to let her go.
Perhaps her worries about being noisy weren’t entirely unfounded, as Clorinde brought two fingers up to Navia’s lips and whispered “Quietly now, let me help you with that.”
The digits traced her parted lips before sliding inside and obediently, Navia hollowed her cheeks and began to suck. Clorinde swore aloud, although Navia couldn’t tell if it was at the way she worshipped her fingers with her tongue or the feeling of her cunt tight around her. She didn’t particularly care, content to make the duelist lose a bit of herself in the moment too.
“That’s it. Good girl.” Clorinde lauded, her praise searing deep in the cradle of Navia’s hipbones as Clorinde continued to drive her hips against hers.
She withdrew her fingers from Navia’s mouth to fist them into the sheets beside Navia’s head, the entirety of Clorinde’s rocking body shuddering with exertion. Their moans mingled together into a nameless chorus, resonating years of repressed desire.
“I’m so close Clorinde…!” Navia panted out, and felt Clorinde’s cock throb inside her. Her nails dug into the skin of Clorinde’s back, and she knew that she wouldn’t be the only one with marks tomorrow.
Clorinde nodded, “Tell me when to pull out.”
The weight of Clorinde’s intentions sunk in; mingled with Navia’s frenetic desire for more–for everything she could be given and then still some by the other woman–the thought of pulling out quickly seemed more and more unbearable. Face flushed, lips parted, Navia looked into Clorinde’s eyes, searching. Clorinde, who had been by her side always; Clorinde, who had broken her heart; Clorinde, who had spent years trying to mend it back together again.
In the waves of her escalating pleasure, Navia said something previously unspeakable. “No, no, please…! Stay inside. I need it!” she begged, no longer caring about her image.
The tension gathering at Clorinde’s brow relaxed momentarily before ecstasy overtook Navia’s body and she came hard around Clorinde’s cock. Tears streamed from her eyes as her body shook; all she could do was chant Clorinde’s name over and over again like a prayer.
When Clorinde finally released inside her with a quivering moan, the warmth that flooded her sated some visceral instinct, the hungry part of her that had been calling and reaching for Clorinde for years. Time was incomprehensible, all that remained was something precious and previously unthinkable. Clorinde, her Clorinde.
Thoroughly spent and still hazy in the depths of pleasure, she vaguely processed Clorinde pressing kisses to her face over and over, intermingled with whispers of her name.
Navia, Navia, Navia.
After some time she felt Clorinde pull out, and the absence of her made Navia whine. She didn’t know how she could’ve spent three years without Clorinde, now that she had her back. The awareness of her years of hate toward her felt inconceivable now, stark and ugly in the light of their reconciliation. Clorinde had always been trying, had been carrying the grief of Callas’ death just as Navia had. This realization filled Navia with a feeling too fragile and dear to name. She never wanted to lose her again.
Her eyes fluttered open and she saw the face of her childhood friend, so frequently blank as still water, now overcome with emotion. Navia drew her hand up to Clorinde’s brow and brushed a stray hair from her eyes. Handsome, as always.
“Are you alright, Navia?” Clorinde asked, her expression betraying her concern.
“Yes, yes. I’m okay, don’t worry,” Navia said and placed a kiss on the hand that lingered by her cheek. Her knight. “I’m better than okay. Who let you be so good at everything?”
Clorinde smiled fondly. “I learned it from you.”
Later on, there would be hard conversations; about feelings and years of bitterness and what that night meant. Navia, now sober, was painfully aware of this–as well as the inevitable trip to the pharmacy they’d take together once morning came. Still, Clorinde stayed the night, her arm securely over Navia’s waist as she fell into a deep sleep. Looking back, Navia wasn’t sure what she dreamt that night, only that Clorinde was there, her presence steady and unwavering.
And so if she cried when they finally talked about it, that was between them. As it turned out, a lot remained between them, rich years of history and a life already shared. Stuffy visits to Palais Mermonia to discuss reparations for her father’s death and all that had transpired soon turned into frequent lunch outings peppered with laughter. She began making up any excuse to see Clorinde. And when Clorinde showed up at Poisson one day for the first time in three years, no one in the Spina batted an eye. If Navia wasn’t so overwhelmed with that inexpressible feeling she’d be embarrassed, but it was hard to focus on that when she kept catching Clorinde stealing glances whenever she could.
Even months after, that night was still too shaky to put into words. But it was easier to feel now, during sharpshooting contests where they both tied or when Navia would make Clorinde try a new flavor of macaron. Over time, Navia watched Clorinde’s ever-present murky expression become more tranquil, and her taciturn demeanor made room for smiles and laughter stolen in secrecy. The sight of Clorinde’s perfectly arched lips quirked into a wry smile made Navia’s heart leap into her throat.
Someday in the future on a spring day, they would go for a walk–the silence between them then would be a small comfort, each other’s presence a soothing inevitability. Navia would climb into the boughs of an apple tree, and Clorinde would let herself be pulled up, would sit and look handsome among the blossoms and the dappling sunlight. And when Clorinde would hand Navia an apple, just as she had all those years ago, Navia would take a bite.