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Lately, Navia has been experiencing some conflicting feelings about one of her closest friends. This in and of itself isn’t that strange; after all, she’s used to the ‘you killed my father and we became estranged but now we’re closer than ever’ type of emotional conflict with Clorinde. Those feelings are familiar, manageable and easily suppressed after all this time.
No, these new feelings are much worse. Less familiar, less manageable and incredibly difficult to suppress. They’re also driving her crazy.
Here’s the thing: Navia hasn’t given much thought to romantic or sexual attraction ever since her father’s death. Focused on running the Spina di Rosula and helping the people of Poisson, something as mundane as romance has hardly crossed her mind in years.
It sort of makes sense that, after all is said and done and Fontaine isn’t in danger of flooding any longer, those kinds of thoughts tentatively resurface again.
What Navia wasn’t expecting was that they would be about her close friend, that’s all.
Every time she spends time with the Champion Duelist, Navia keeps finding herself staring at the other woman’s mouth, wondering how it would be like to kiss her, or worse, surreptitiously glancing at her thighs, wondering how it would feel to be in between them.
The dreams certainly don’t help. She keeps waking up all hot and bothered, her own hand between her legs and a meager release that surely doesn’t compare at all to the real thing.
Navia knows she only has so much time left before Clorinde notices —nothing escapes her sharp gaze—, and judging by the looks Lynette has started giving her as of late, she isn’t being as subtle as she’d like.
It’s embarrassing. It’s unbecoming. And most of all, it’s ruining her life.
The president of the Spina di Rosula doesn’t often run away from her problems, however, so after a few weeks of suffering through heart palpitations each and every time Clorinde makes eye contact with her during Tabletop Troupe, Navia decides to make a move.
“Glad you could make it, Clorinde!” She smiles and pats the free spot on the couch next to her, then starts pouring some tea in her favorite flower-patterned set.
They’re in the sitting room of her house near Poisson, the open windows letting in heaps of sunshine and a nice breeze. Navia thinks Clorinde looks beautiful in that light, but then again, she thinks the same thing every single time no matter the setting.
“Thank you for inviting me,” the Champion Duelist nods her head briefly and obliges, sitting next to Navia but not close enough for their bodies to touch.
It sends a stab of disappointment through the blonde’s chest, one that she tries to ignore.
“I still have some of the tea blend from last time,” Navia says before they both take a sip. A small smile crosses Clorinde’s face.
“Right, the lavender one. It’s exquisite.”
Navia’s skin is thrumming with nerves, an anticipatory buzz that only grows every time she glances at her companion. There’s a mirror right in front of them, hanging from the wall at an angle so that she can see every little movement in the reflection, every detail of them both.
Clorinde is wearing a more casual variation of her usual outfit sans the hat and the cape, sitting with her back straight as she sips the tea. Meanwhile, Navia is wearing her favorite dress, a few strands of her golden hair are pinned back and she has applied a bit more makeup than usual. It might all be for nothing, if Clorinde rejects her, but it makes her feel good regardless. More confident, more attractive, more desirable.
They talk about mundane things for a while, the usual pleasantries and how are you doings as if they didn’t see each other every other day in the Court of Fontaine. Clorinde doesn’t seem to mind, easing back into the plush cushions once her teacup is drained.
“You’re nervous,” she points out at last, once Navia has run out of inane topics to bring up and her cheerful mask is starting to slip a little. The words, said evenly but with a hint of curiosity, make her stomach swoop a little.
“It’s nothing,” Navia tries to laugh it off, but it comes out strangled. She looks down at her hands and then at Clorinde, who’s watching her intently.
“Did something happen? Are you in danger?”
“No! Archons, no, nothing of the sort,” Navia rushes to correct her, before she draws out her sword to fight off an imaginary threat. In the mirror, she catches a glimpse of her flustered expression. “Just some personal things. Nothing you should worry about.”
Clorinde stares at her for a moment, an unreadable flash of emotion in her violet eyes.
“Personal things,” she repeats. “Navia, if you need to talk about Melus and Silver…”
Navia buries her face in her hands. The situation is spiraling out of control, and the last thing she wants before confessing her feelings is to be reminded of the yet-unhealed wounds in her heart from what happened just a few months ago.
“Please, let’s not talk about that,” she says firmly, but not unkindly. Clorinde’s eyes widen minutely and she nods once, seriously.
“I apologize.”
“Don’t worry,” Navia sighs. “I’ve just been having a lot on my mind.”
“Well, if you wish to talk—”
“Have you ever been in love with someone?” Navia interrupts her.
Clorinde averts her gaze, clearly taken aback. In the mirror, Navia can see conflict etched on her expression, as well as something else she can’t quite place.
“Why do you ask, Navia?” She says softly at last.
Once she’s made up her mind, Navia is not one to be deterred. Trying very hard not to think of the potential catastrophic consequences of her actions, the blonde woman leans forward and places her hands over Clorinde’s.
“There’s something I’ve been wanting to say for some time.” She looks into her violet irises earnestly, heart fluttering. “I just wasn’t sure if it was right of me to do it. I guess I was scared, to make a mistake, or to push you away. But I’m certain now.”
“Navia…”
Clorinde trails off, sounding uncharacteristically uncertain. Her eyes show the truth, however. There’s hope and longing in them, two things Navia knows have to be reflected in her expression.
Without thinking twice, Navia leans forward and presses her lips against Clorinde’s.
They are softer than she imagined, and warmer. Clorinde is quick to react, one arm sneaking behind her back to pull Navia closer while the other cups her face tenderly, fingers brushing softly over her skin.
Navia, in turn, buries her hands in Clorinde’s hair, pulling the strands free of the bow tying them together at the nape of her neck. It’s something she has been wanting to do for a while, to run her hands through the purple strands. Judging by the way Clorinde moans in her mouth when she scrapes her nails against her scalp a little, it’s rather well-received.
They kiss for several intervals in between breaks for air, mouths pressed against each other like they need it to survive. Navia doesn’t know how she has lasted this long without experiencing it.
It doesn’t take long for their hands to start exploring. Clorinde’s run up and down her torso, brushing against the underside of her breasts and sending jolts of desire straight through Navia, who decides to be a bit more daring and starts wandering down to her thighs.
Clorinde gasps into her mouth when a hand finds its way in between her legs, then suddenly pulls back.
“Is everything okay?” Navia asks, afraid she’s crossed a boundary without knowing.
“Yes, I just…” Clorinde trails off and looks her up and down, making her squirm with anticipatory pleasure. “We should take our clothes off.”
The Champion Duelist looks flustered, and the odd sight makes Navia smile.
“I’ll do yours if you do mine,” she teases.
Clorinde agrees. Navia takes great delight in undoing the buttons of her white shirt one by one, exposing the breasts underneath, and then it’s her turn to have the dress taken off by Clorinde. She’s grateful for her foresight in picking nice underwear beforehand.
Out of the corner of her eye, she catches a glimpse of the scene in the mirror. Clorinde is practically on top of her, purple strands of hair falling all over the creamy white skin of her bare back. The dip of her waist, the arch of her bottom, the firmness of her muscles after years of training. It’s a beautiful sight.
“You’re beautiful,” Navia mutters. Her mouth is promptly captured with a hot, eager kiss.
Clorinde pushes her until she’s laying on her back, golden hair spilling everywhere over the sofa cushions. With a satisfied smile, she takes her time in fondling Navia’s breasts, and then she makes her way downwards.
The first time her fingers brush against her folds, Navia moans. It’s already so much better than all those dreams. Clorinde doesn’t stop, violet irises boring into hers with intensity as she plays with her sex without inserting anything just yet.
“There’s something I’ve been wanting to do,” Clorinde says in a low voice, glancing down and then back at her.
“I trust you,” Navia breathes.
She gasps at the trail of kisses Clorinde starts peppering down her chest, holding her waist reverently as if she was made of porcelain, lips brushing over her breasts, then her abdomen, then lower.
Navia makes eye contact with herself in the mirror. Clorinde is right between her thighs, mouthing at her cunt and making her feel like she’s about to burst with pure pleasure. Her own chest is arched upwards as she tries to get as much friction with her mouth as possible, hands buried on the other’s hair once again.
Seeing themselves like that makes her moan louder, just to examine the way their reflections respond in kind, bodies buckling together. Clorinde laps at her core, sucking and mouthing in a way that makes Navia see stars.
All too soon, she reaches her climax and feels her hips clench tight against Clorinde’s head with the force of the orgasm.
Her body is exhausted but she doesn’t want to be selfish, so, once Clorinde lifts her head, Navia pushes against her breast lightly.
“Lie down,” she commands with a gentle smile. “It’s my turn.”
Despite having thought about burying her own head between Clorinde’s thighs many times already, Navia chooses to just use her fingers this time. She quite likes kissing Clorinde, and the expressions the normally calm and collected woman makes when her fingers sink into her folds are a beautiful sight.
“Look at us,” she mumbles into Clorinde’s ear, nodding towards the mirror.
The scene reflected there turns Navia on even more. Clorinde looks absolutely ravishing laying on her couch like that, cheeks red and lips parted with gasps falling off her mouth, with her on top, limbs entangled.
Her fingers enter easily, becoming coated in her juices almost immediately. It’s not difficult to find a rhythm, and soon Navia has Clorinde coming undone below her, gasping and clenching deliciously.
“One more,” she mutters, relishing the way Clorinde’s eyes snap open and cloud over with lust.
At the same time her fingers are working down below, Navia starts mouthing at her breasts, kissing and sucking, leaving little marks everywhere. Every once in a while, she glances at the mirror, taking in the new angle, the way her body slots together against Clorinde’s. It gives her a heady feeling, excitement pooling in her belly.
Next time, Navia decides as Clorinde throws her head back and climaxes with a series of low moans, they’ll find a new position for the mirror. Maybe move the furniture, so they’re facing it directly the entire time. So she won’t miss anything.
She almost can’t wait.