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They’d done this before. After an adventure when no one was looking for them. That bit of space where nothing was happening during the day. Ragatha isn’t sure when it started, she’s sure that Pomni isn’t either. Yet here they are, sitting on the edge of the bed with fingers tangled into each other's hair. Their lips are sealed together, tongues exploring mouths that taste like code and plastic.
It’s not enough. It really never has been. Her fingers work at the semi-fabric of Pomni’s silly costume, trying to find a place to dip under.
“He- he said the update-” Pomni pants, breaking the kiss to bury her face into Ragatha’s neck. Her breath is hot against the pale fabric. It’s something she can feel. It feels so incredibly real.
“I know-” Ragatha laughs, “Clothes can- can be changed now.. Um.. just trying to figure it out. See what’s underneath..” She has a feeling there won’t be much. She can feel the lack of sensation when Pomni’s thin thigh presses between her legs, searching for a way to make her moan.
She finally finds something. A latch, a zipper, she’s not really sure. She wants the other woman naked so she can see her properly. The costume is peeled away from Pomni’s avatar. There’s a disappointment to the null figure.
Pomni looks down at herself, and sighs. Her hands run over where there should be breasts. Instead there’s some slight bumps, enough to make it look like there’s something to see there if she’s wearing clothes, but without them she looks like a rubbery doll. Her pale not-skin feeling like warm silicone and static to the touch. Between her legs is more disappointing. It’s smooth. There’s nothing. Not even a bump or a mound to rub against a pillow. She sighs, cupping the slight rises on her chest, and squeezing, trying to feel anything at all.
Ragatha cups her cheek, lifting her face so that they’re staring at each other. She takes a deep breath, and offers a smile. They’re in this together or something. They’ll make it work. They have in the past. This shouldn’t be any different.
“My turn I guess,” she says, her voice soft. Her dress is easier than the costume. It just pulls up and over her head, and then she’s naked. It feels strange. She’s almost forgotten what it feels like to be naked, sitting with her chest heaving and legs spread to reveal.. Nothing. Just the seam that goes up between her legs. She’s a doll.. With nothing to touch, or feel. Nothing to toy with. Her chest is the same as Pomni’s. A bit more pronounced, but still just void.
“Do- Can-” Pomni chews her lip.
“We can keep going,” Ragatha says, perhaps a bit too quickly, “I mean.. I know- I know we can’t have sex like we did out there.. We would’ve out there..”
Pomni smiles, climbing onto the bed and straddling her. The silicone feel of her avatar settles against the soft fabric of her thighs. As if on instinct, Ragatha’s hands find her hips, gripping softly, her fingers kneading lightly.
“Well.. the rules are different here,” Pomni says, one hand draping around Ragatha’s shoulders and the other cupping her cheek, “Maybe we can just find.. A new way to have sex.. I mean, as long as I get to touch you I think I’ll be happy.”
Ragatha giggles. She tugs Pomni down, kissing her softly. “Yeah.. A new way.. I mean.. It’s been what? Years since I’ve done this?” She snorts, “I would kill to have you in me though. Like.. I dunno. Fuck..”
“Yeah?” Pomni raises a brow, a soft smile on her face, “Would you want me kissing you?” She begins pressing kisses down the side of Ragatha’s neck.
Ragatha bites her lip, her head tilting to the side to allow the smaller woman better access. “Mm..” the sound is so incredibly soft, “How else would it go?”
Pomni smiles, her teeth sinking into the plush fabric of Ragatha’s skin. It feels strange, like she’s biting a cushion, and the taste has that almost flavor of everything in the circus. There’s almost the alcohol taste of perfume, almost the taste of salt, almost the taste of cotton fibers caught between her teeth.
Ragatha’s breath catches. It hurts but it feels like something. God above does she desperately need something. Her grip on Pomni’s hips tightens and she wishes she had nails to dig into the plush, not quite silicone skin. It’s smooth and soft and warm and feels so close to the real thing.
“I dunno.. Depends on what I use,” Pomni murmurs, her kisses trail down. Over the mounds of Ragatha’s chest. She grips one, testing the feeling under her hand. The lack of nipples is a bit disconcerting, but it’s soft. She can feel the way the fibers of Ragatha’s stuffing move beneath her skin as she kneads and works. She laps at the peak of the other breast, treating it as if it’s the real thing. It feels good, feels strangely right. Her free hand slides between Ragatha’s thighs. She wishes there was wetness there, something for her to work open and taste. She wants to see it, hear the way the other moans as Pomni fucks her.
“If I had a strap I could bend you over and f[#$]k you until you're crying with my fingers twisted in those pretty curls..” She sucks Ragatha’s tit into her mouth, the fabric wet with saliva. It reacts like real fabric would. One of Ragatha’s hands tangles into her hair. She sits back and pushes her onto the bed. “Or I could hold the toy in my hand and work it into you..” She shifts so Ragatha can spread her legs. Two of her fingers press where her entrance should be, thumb against a non-existent clit. “But what I really want.. What I’ll do if I ever get the chance.. I’m gonna wrap those pretty thighs around my head and taste you.” Her lips work down the length of Ragatha’s belly, tongue darting out where her navel should be. She runs her tongue over where her pussy should be.
It’s so frustrating. Ragatha can feel it. She can almost feel what it’s supposed to be like. She feels Pomni’s finger catch on a loose thread and winces. It doesn’t feel good when her stitches get pulled. It hurts. But the hurt isn’t much. It’s like getting one too many hairs plucked. Pomni’s gaze catches hers, she takes in the way both of their chests heave. The way they should be desperate and sweating. But it’s been stolen from them. The most basic of human pleasures, and they can’t even reach it.
It’s stupid, and it makes her angry. She wants to be fucked by her not quite girlfriend. Or maybe they are girlfriends. Or maybe it’s okay to let Pomni use her body because at least then she’s wanted for something. She swallows. She wants to fuck her so badly. She wants to pin Pomni by the back of her neck while her fingers work inside the smaller woman's cunt. She wants to taste her, to let her ride her face until they’re both breathless. She reaches down, her fingers guiding Pomni’s to the loose stitch.
She doesn’t know what she’s doing. It’ll hurt at first. But maybe it’ll feel good after. She hopes it feels good after. At least it will be something. “I want you to f[&%]k me,” she says, her voice soft, “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more..” She winces as she guides Pomni to pull the thread.
It’s slow. The single stitch pulls taut in her fingers, then snaps. It’s not even enough to leave a hole behind. It’s not enough. The moment of pain was electric. Ragatha could feel it through her whole being. She needs more.
“Ragatha-” Pomni breathes, “A- Are you sure?” Her pupils are blown wide. She’s hungry. It won’t taste the same. It won’t feel the same. She can see that it hurts the other, but there’s something that’s compelling her to reach for the next thread. The next stitch in the line. She hooks a finger through it, listening to the lovely way that Ragatha whines as it pulls. The snap is so soft. She almost can’t hear it. But the look on Ragatha’s face is bliss. She swallows, watching as Ragatha nods.
“More-” she says, the word coming out breathless and pleading, “Please-”
It’s too much, and not nearly enough. She looks around, and her gaze falls on the sewing kit next to Ragatha’s bed. She knows what’s in it. She’s used it to patch up her girlfriend when Caine wasn’t around to help. She swallows again, nervous and unsure that this is the right thing. It could be wrong. It is wrong. But she wants it. She wants everything so badly.
She picks up the kit, feeling Ragatha’s gaze on her. She picks through the pieces with trembling hands. Needles and thread, patches and buttons. And those little scissors. Meant for cutting the ends off of threads, maybe not even sharp enough to cut fabric properly. They might catch and pinch.
She can hear the way that Ragatha’s breath hitches when she pulls them out, the light glinting off of the metal. She looks at her, her flushed cheeks and yarn-like hair spilling across the bedspread. Her gaze flicks to the scissors, then back to the woman beneath her, asking permission.
They both hold their breath, both weighing the possibilities of what could happen. It could just hurt. It could be bad. It could leave them both unwilling to even look at each other, knowing what Pomni did to her, what she gave permission for.
“Rewriting the rules, right?” Ragatha asks, the slightest tremble in her voice. They’re both scared. The too much and the not enough of it is dangling in front of them, lighting the space between them like the emergency lights of a non-existent exit.
“Right,” Pomni says, “You’ll tell me to stop if- if it doesn’t work.. Right?”
Ragatha nods. It would be cruel of her not to. But maybe she could give Pomni that little bit of good. That feeling like she did do something worth doing. Even if it hurts she could let her tear her apart string by string until she’s completely unraveled. She could make her happy thinking that the pain was worth it. But that isn’t what she wants. So Ragatha nods honestly. “Of course. I’ll tell you.”
She props herself up on her elbows. She’s not sure if she even wants to watch. Seeing herself be cut into and unmade, just to feel something inside her. It’s a horrifying prospect, but she still wants it.
Pomni kneels between her legs. She’s careful, methodical. She finds where the other stitches are already broken, and opens the scissors, carefully placing the point of the lower blade against the hint of a hole. “Ready? It- it’s gonna hurt..”
Ragatha nods. “I know.. I still want it..” She swallows, “I’m ready..” She closes her eye, making herself relax. She can feel as it slides into her, the cool, dull edge pressed against the fabric of her insides. She doesn’t remember how sex is supposed to feel, but she’s sure this feels close. There’s a soft ‘snnk’ sound as the blades close together. They barely fray the fabric around where her pussy should be.
The pain is sharp. It lances through her, making her feet curl where she should have toes. She grits her teeth, groaning softly. But she feels something. It’s addicting. The second slice is duller. She can feel her fabric skin splitting beneath the edges. It’s wrong. It feels so incredibly wrong. Her hips shift, pressing upwards into it. The cut isn’t neat, the edges are soft with torn fuzz. When she opens her eyes, Pomni is staring down at the makeshift cunt.
Her mouth looks like it’s watering, and her stuffing is pressing outwards, threatening to spill over the edges. She can feel tears in her eyes as she reaches down, her own hands pulling the fabric taut so the other can continue.
One more cut that has her back arching off of the bed and a moan spilling from her throat. It hurts and she wants more so badly. She wants Pomni to take the dull scissors to every inch of her body and slice until she’s no more than patchwork spilled across the bed. She never wants her to stop. She wants her to set them aside and grab the curling fabric and pull until she’s split in two because it hurts and it feels so incredibly good.
Instead the scissors are set to the side. Ragatha’s head falls back. She’s panting. She remembers that in the real world she could cum. She’d tried here and knew that it was impossible. She’d rutted against pillows and rubbed her hand between her legs until she’d cried and always felt nothing. This is the closest she’ll get. The blisteringly hot pain. She feels something against the hole, and then inside her, exploring the way her stuffing feels.
Pomni twists her fingers, catching the bits of fluff between them and tugging experimentally. She watches the way Ragatha’s nose scrunches and her expressions twist. She moans at the feeling. “Is it- good?” she asks, her voice small as she pumps two fingers inside the other woman.
“Feels- weird.. Good weird,” Ragatha doesn’t say that it hurts. Not in the same way as the scissors did. This is a different hurt. It’s duller, deeper. It feels like something is hooked in her belly, trying to pull her insides out. Her legs hook around Pomni’s hips, trying to drag her in close. “Don’t you dare stop..”
So Pomni picks up the pace, toying with Ragatha’s plush insides. A third finger is pressed into the tear, making the threads at the point snap as they stretch. It makes Ragatha cry out as she writhes beneath her.
She wants to taste her. She wants to taste every last bit of her. She knows what it will taste like, but she wants it. She leans down, running her tongue over the frayed edges of the fabric and pulling back to see the spit darkening the fabric. She feels Ragatha’s fingers in her hair and goes back down, tongue playing over the place where the weave has been pulled tight. She pulls it with her tongue, letting it snap back into place.
Ragatha’s moans pitch. It isn’t quite pleasure, but the pain is dulling. It’s white hot in her belly, concentrated on the heat of Pomni’s tongue. She feels it dip into her, wetting the cotton fluff of her stuffing. She knows the orgasm she’s desperately chasing will never come, but she just wants to enjoy this, wants to feel good. She’ll do the same for Pomni. She’ll do anything for her. Whatever it takes to feel this and never stop feeling this.
The stuffing is strange against Pomni’s tongue. It clings and doesn’t separate like she expected. It tangles like spider silk in her mouth. There’s no real taste to it. Just that not-there flavor of polyester and cotton. The static feeling of every other flavor in the circus. It’s strange and not right but not wrong. Her own breathing is heavy. Her arm wraps around Ragatha’s thigh, pulling her in closer. The smooth space where her nose should be pressed to the cleft of the tear, threatening to break more of the stitching. She can feel Ragatha’s heel pressing into her back, trying to drag her in closer.
She doesn’t stop. She swirls her tongue inside her, hooks her fingers to search for that sweet spot that isn’t there. She loses time, just doing whatever it takes to make the other feel good. The hand on Ragatha’s thigh drops between her own legs, rubbing at the nothingness there. She wants it so badly, she knows that if she had a cunt it would be dripping. She would be sitting on a toy, riding it as she ate her out. She wants to cum, but she knows she can’t.
They don’t know how long they’re there, but when Pomni pulls back, Ragatha can feel the bits of stuffing that cling to her lips as they’re dragged out of her. Like something is being removed. The pain is gone, and it’s not a release. She lays, doing her best to catch her breath.
Her gaze is unfocused, her hair is a mess. The yarn of her hair is unraveling. And it’s not enough. But it has to be. She swallows, and looks at the other. There’s a bit of polyester fiber stuck to her chin still. With a trembling hand she reaches out to wipe it away.
“I should-” she begins to say, wanting to offer Pomni that beautiful pleasure-pain.
“Not tonight,” Pomni says, reaching out to cradle her cheek, “Next time maybe.” She smiles. “Do you want me to stitch you up?” She presses a kiss to Ragatha’s fingers, then leans down to kiss her properly.
Ragatha looks down at the mess between her legs. The hole isn’t even that big. Only a few inches at most. The edges of it are still glistening with quickly cooling spit. It almost looks real. Like a real wet cunt, well fucked and ready for another round. It’ll be gone in the morning. Their bodies will reset as they sleep.
“No,” she says, “It- I like it. It feels.. Real.” She smiles, “Like.. a re-written rule or something.” She tugs Pomni against her, pressing kisses to her soft silicone skin.
Pomni just nods, pulling her in for one last kiss. She’ll spend the night here she thinks, and tomorrow they’ll find another rule to re-write for just the two of them.