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It’s unfair that Mydei has this effect on her. She hadn’t even done anything—she’d just walked into their apartment after work, suit jacket slung over her shoulder. But Phainon had caught a glimpse of her before she’d realised she wasn’t alone, running a hand through her mussed hair. She’s wearing red today—a black shirt with burgundy slacks that drape over her legs just right, just hinting at the strength they hide. She turns and Phainon’s mouth goes dry. Her silky shirt is barely buttoned, open almost to her navel with the centre gore of her black, lacy bra visible. The silk looks to be clinging to her by prayer alone, and titans Phainon wants to put her face there, nudge that silk off her shoulders and get her mouth on skin. Despite the generous curve of Mydei’s breasts, the silk pulls back to her waist, then tucks neatly into her slacks. She’s gorgeous, she’s ethereal, and Phainon can feel the blush across her face. She swallows, opens her mouth to speak, but Mydei catches sight of her then, and jumps.
“HKS—say something next time, woman!” She huffs, dropping her keys in the bowl by the door. “Are you trying to kill me?”
Phainon bites her lip. “Hey, don’t let me interrupt your important routine,” she retorts, shifting to lean over the back of the sofa. “I’m enjoying the view.”
Mydei rolls her eyes, and Phainon’s eyes drag back down her body. “You’re being a pervert, I can tell.” The soft thump of her shoes hitting the floor sounds, then she’s tucking them away and crossing to the sofa. “Don’t try to deny it,” she lowers her voice, dips her fingers into the hair at the back of Phainon’s head and tugs lightly to force her gaze upright. “Be good,” she says, and Phainon melts. The pressure tingles across the back of her scalp and the words have her hips twisting, thighs clenching together as her breath catches.
She fumbles out a few sounds, tongue-tied, then manages, “What if I don’t want to be?” It’s not her best retort by far, but something’s better than nothing. She’s cool, calm, collected, unaffected—
Mydei tugs her hair again, and an embarrasing squeak escapes her. Maybe not so much. “Uh,” she says, “Ignore that, it was just—”
“If that’s the case,” Mydei cuts her off, dropping her bag near the back of the couch. Unlike Phainon, she’ll definitely remember to pick it up later. “You won’t mind if I sit with you.” A moment later she’s dropping to sit next to Phainon, hooking one ankle over the other knee. It pulls her slacks over her thighs and Phainon has to swallow hard. She twists, drops to sit, and is about to open her mouth when Mydei speaks again.
“I was thinking,” she says, speaking over Phainon when she gets out a dangerous. “Would you be open to me joining you for one of your videos?”
Phainon stops. Just—stops. Her breath catches, her thoughts skid to a halt, and her eyes almost bulge out of her head. She tries to swallow, chokes on it, and Mydei snorts out a laugh at her expense.
“Is that so surprising to you?” Mydei’s eyes glint when Phainon glances over, and she quickly looks away.
“Aren’t you too noticeable?” She tries, gesturing at her chest as if that’s enough to highlight Mydei’s tattoos. “If someone realises it’s you…”
“Do you think I haven’t thought this through?” A grin that Phainon can see out of the corner of her eye. Titans, she can’t look straight at Mydei sometimes—it’s like staring into the sun.
Phainon clenches her thighs together, swallowing hard. When Mydei glances over, Phainon feels her ears heat up, but she shakes her head. A knee knocks against hers, and she bumps it back, folding her arms across her chest. Her foot taps, and Mydei smiles, tilting her head as she looks.
“Fine,” she groans, slumping back. “Fine. You can do it if you want. Don’t get mad at me if something happens though.”
Mydei smiles wider still, her hand landing on Phainon’s knee. It’s warm, her short nails digging in a little bit into skin, and Phainon can feel the pulse of her cunt at the grip. She knows what those hands feel like, now. Can have them on her whenever she wants. Mydei’s become more handsy since they’d talked, since she’d taken initiative and bent Phainon over her own bed. Phainon likes it—she loves it—but she was already struggling to keep herself in check watching Mydei move around the house, and now it’s downright impossible.
And now Mydei wants something more. She’s been reading the comments Phainon gets on her videos, and clearly it’s sparked something possessive in her that marks and shared clothing isn’t helping with. She’d resisted of course. Mydei’s too prominent, too noticeable with the sprawling red tattoos over her body, but she’s asked anyway, and Phainon can’t say no to her.
“I’ll work it out,” Mydei is saying while Phainon stresses, hand flexing on Phainon’s knee until it slides up to squeeze her thigh. “Trust me, yeah? I wouldn’t put you at risk.”
Phainon’s less worried about herself, but she nods, tilts her head to look at her girlfriend again. Those beautiful honey-gold eyes are molten, and Mydei draws her in with a finger under Phainon’s chin. The kiss is soft, sweet, and sends a bolt through Phainon despite that.
“Tell me when you want to,” Phainon mumbles against her mouth, lashes fluttering closed as a familiar hand settles on her hip, tugs. “And if I need to get anything ready.” That hand tugs, pulling her forward, and she swings a leg over Mydei’s, settling into her lap.
“This is what you’re going to be helpful about?” Mydei teases, the blazing heat of her hand sliding higher up Phainon’s thigh. She squeezes, and Phainon tightens her knees around Mydei’s hip, an involuntary sound escaping. “All that time posturing for me, and now you want to be helpful?” The thunder of Phainon’s pulse is loud in her ears.
“Like you were any better,” she huffs, arguing out of habit despite the gentle tug of Mydei’s hands and their stomachs pressing together. Her hands find Mydei’s chest, unabashedly cupping her tits through her shirt, and Mydei laughs at her a little more pointedly this time. “Flaunting these at me. Did you even hurt your arm when you needed my help?”
A snort, then Mydei grabs her ass, squeezes. “Yeah, I did, but getting to tease you was a bonus.”
Phainon rolls her eyes, wiggles her hips, and says, “But you’re all healed up now right?” She checks, though it’s been months.
“If I wasn’t I’d be concerned,” is the snarky response. “Shameless,” she chides when Phainon squeezes her hands, thumb finding the firming bump of Mydei’s nipple.
“Mmh. You should carry me to bed, then,” Phainon says, grins at the droll look Mydei gives her. Nonetheless, Mydei shifts her weight, stands with Phainon’s ass cupped under her arm.
—
She shouldn’t be this nervous. And yet, with the familiar gaze of the camera on her, she is. It’s not recording yet, but Phainon rubs her feet together anyway, practiced smile in place while she waits for Mydei. She doesn’t know what to expect—Mydei hadn’t said more than “I’ll handle it,” and frankly it’s nerve wracking enough to know this will be her first not-solo video on the platform, let alone adding the wildcard that is Mydei to it.
She brushes a hand down her bare leg, adjusts the skirt Mydei had picked for her. It’s a tiny thing, flimsy and pleated down to her mid-thigh, and the white fabric won’t last long once Mydei gets a grip on it. The shirt is one of Mydei’s, a soft red silk that she’s buttoned barely high enough to be decent. It’s slipping off her shoulders with how big it is, held together only by the breadth of Phainon’s shoulders. She’s not delicate by any means, but Mydei is something else when it comes to her muscle tone—aand her glorious tits—and the fabric is all but swimming on her. It still smells like Mydei’s favourite cologne, spicy and sharp, and that’s the only thing keeping her from running to find Mydei and calling this all off.
She knows she looks good, with her lipgloss pout and kohl around her eyes, and she wants Mydei to hurry up and take her outfit off her again so she doesn’t have to think any longer.
Mydei doesn’t knock. She doesn’t make Phainon wait long, popping the door open a few minutes later, just long enough for Phainon to rearrange the pillows on the bed another three times. “Stop fussing,” she says as she enters, catching Phainon leaning over the mattress with her ass in the air, fluffing a pillow that’ll probably end up on the floor anyway.
Phainon yelps, caught, sitting up and tugging the skirt back down to cover her ass on autopilot while Mydei laughs. “Asshole,” she grumbles, shuffling to the edge of the bed as she turns around properly.
Her mouth goes dry, breath catching in her throat.
Mydie’s all in black, covered head to toe, and Phainon for once can’t find a single thing to complain about. Her hair is swept back into a short braid, her face otherwise devoid of makeup. She’s wearing one of her silk shirts, a black one buttoned a little higher than normal to cover the tattoos on her chest. The tantalising little peek of skin at the hollow of her throat has Phainon’s mouth watering, and when she realises that’s all the skin she’s getting, she wants her mouth there all the more. The sleeves are long, not rolled up like normal, and Mydei’s wearing short leather driving gloves, and perfectly fitted slacks that highlight her legs without clinging to them. She looks like she’s about to head to a work meeting, and instead she’s here, in Phainon’s room, eyes roving over Phainon in turn.
“Dress for the job you want, I suppose,” Mydei breaks the silence, eyes sparkling with humour even as her pupils blow out little by little.
“You picked this!” Phainon retorts, her tongue thick in her mouth, eyes dragging slowly back up to Mydei’s face. “How are you going to fuck me like that?” She asks like it’s an insult, before Mydei lifts one hand and shows the bag hanging from two fingers.
“Trust me, I’ll be able to,” she says, smiles in that slow, steady way of hers. The kind that makes Phainon feel like prey. “I thought I’d keep it a surprise a little longer.”
Phainon’s mouth goes dry, and she can’t immediately come up with a retort, and that has Mydei laughing low and warm. Eventually she does get out some words, strangled as they are. “Okay—yeah that’s okay.”
“I thought you were the professional,” Mydei says as she gets closer, setting that cloth bag on Phainon’s pillow. The way it folds hints at what’s inside, and Phainon’s thighs clench. “Are you sure you can handle me?”
“Any day,” Phainon blusters, inching forward to get off the bed. She’s up in Mydei’s space, and before she can step away an arm looks around her waist. Lips press against hers, warm and sweet, and when Mydei pulls back there’s the faintest smudge of lipstick on her mouth that Phainon rubs away with a thumb.
“I’m just going to get messier,” Mydei says, nips at the end of Phainon’s thumb with her teeth. “Tell me where you want me.”
Swallowing hard, Phainon does.
A few minutes later, Mydei lies back, head and shoulders propped up on a couple of pillows, lips slick from kisses. She licks her lips, then tugs a black mask over the lower half of her face. It makes the liquid honey of her gaze jump out at Phainon, tracking her every move. She’d briefed Mydei on her plan, Pink cheeks settling a little as she relaxes into it. It’s different to say things out loud, but Mydei hadn’t made fun of her, just nodded with a serious little glint in her eyes. And now, Phainon straddles Mydei’s thighs, and with a click of the remote she’d tucked under Mydei’s leg, the camera turns on.
It’s a little harder to get into a rhythm knowing Mydei’s there, feeling the heat of her under her thighs, but Phainon manages. Her hands follow familiar paths, rumpling her skirt, pressing lines into her own thighs. She parts her legs wider, takes the drape of her skirt up with her fingers when she drags them back up her thighs, almost—but not quite—showing off the dainty panties Mydei had bought her. Up her body, lingering on the top button that’s fastened on the shirt, then up her throat, into her mouth. Her hands aren’t Mydei’s, aren’t what she truly wants, but she wets them anyway, drops them to her chest. The silk wets easily, clinging as spit dampens it to reveal her nipple. She plays her fingers over it, hips shifting, hears a huff of amusement from behind her. She’d set up her laptop out of view so Mydei could see, so she pinches herself like Mydei always does and hears another soft puff of breath from behind her.
She works her nipples until the silk feels coarse, until her lips are parting and she drops to undo the top button with a shaky hand. The silk slips down her shoulders further, further again after the next button, and it’s enough to bare her chest for the camera. Mydei’s left a bite over one nipple and it’s all too visible on camera—Phainon can feel the pleased little hum her girlfriend gives off. Her hips start to rock as her fingers find her abused nipple again, the gap between Mydei’s thighs placed right where she wants more pressure. Still, she lets her hips move more, opening her mouth as she does. A glob of spit slips free, drops to land in the middle of her chest, sliding over her skin, and Mydei tenses below her, hitching breath audible. It slides down, staining the fabric taut over Phainon’s belly. Tilting back, Phainon plants her free hand on Mydei’s stomach, letting her other hand slide down the slick trail of spit and nudging at the next-most button. It doesn’t come undone, though she hadn’t wanted it to—instead she drags her fingers through it and drops them lower still.
The rustle behind her has her breath catching, and she can feel the air shift behind her ass as Mydei finally opens that damned bag. The clink of a belt is loud in the quiet room, and Phainon’s thighs clench around Mydei’s, trying and failing to press together. Her hand drops lower, traces the top of her slit through the layers of fabric, and the nerves have finally lost the fight because she can feel how wet she is even through her skirt.
Tongue flicking out, Phainon licks her suddenly-dry lips, the brush of Mydei’s arm against her braced one dragging her attention away from the camera. Her hand stills between her legs, a gasp catching in her throat, and Mydei’s hand returns, strokes over the bones of her wrist. “Keep going,” she murmurs, low, and Phainon shivers, nods once. Shakily, her fingers slip lower, flattening the skirt to her skin as she follows the length of her slit before scrunching the fabric high enough to slip her hand underneath. It’s a familiar feeling, the wet of her own slick through her panties, more seeping through now that a layer of fabric has been removed. She teases herself until her hips are twitching, until little, genuine sounds fall from her lips. She could make them louder, could lean into the sounds a little more, but Mydei’s words had stuck with her—and if Mydei suddenly takes back the promise of her strap Phainon might cry real, actual tears.
Her fingers slip under the gusset of her panties, slick skin greeting her, and her breath catches. A shifting sound behind her, then Mydei’s sitting up, arm curling around Phainon’s waist to cup the back of her hand. The leather is buttery-soft against her skin, and Phainon bites back a sound as her whole body shivers. A fabric-covered nose drags up the nape of her neck, nudging damp strands of hair out of the way, then those leather-covered fingers are sliding down to guide Phainon’s own. They’re buttery, cool when they finally reach the slick of her cunt, and Phainon can’t hold back the broken little moan that had escapes her. She’d thought Mydei would wait a little longer—would let her work herself up before yanking Phainon back onto her strap—but no, she hadn’t been able to resist. No, she’s nudging Phainon’s own fingers out of the way, leaving Phainon grabbing at her wrist just to steady herself. Her other hand comes to rest on Phainon’s belly, tugging the fabric of her shirt up and burrowing underneath.
“Have to be sure you’re ready for me,” she murmurs, and on the next breath Phainon can feel the bulge against her back. It’s Mydei’s strap—it has to be, and titans she wants to see it, eyes opening as she twists. The movement is blocked by Mydei pressing closer still, laughing low against her nape. “Ah—be patient.”
Mydei’s always been willing to manhandle her a little, but this hits differently. Phainon clenches and Mydei must feel it against her fingers because she slides them lower, tracing the already-swollen edge of Phainon’s clit. “So predictable,” Mydei murmurs, and it sends a bolt through her, leaving her gasping.
The word slips from Phainon before she realises her mouth is moving. “Mommy, please,” she whines, and Mydei goes still behind her.
Just before she can get worried, mouth falling open to apologise again, Mydei laughs.
It’s not a mean one—no, the sound is low, rocking Phainon to her core. Her words are hot at Phainon’s ear, fingers tracing delicate patterns over Phainon’s clit, and Phainon can’t help but whine again, wordless. “No, no,” Mydei purrs, tapping her clit once. It’s not a hard tap but it still rattles Phainon, makes her toes curl against Mydei’s sides. She’s close—closer than she thought she’d be this early on. “Say it again for me, and maybe I’ll give you what you want.”
The whimper that escapes Phainon isn’t planned, but it breaks free anyway as Mydei returns to the feather-light touches, denying her the orgasm that had been far too close for comfort. “Please touch me properly,” she asks, hesitates, then adds, “Please, mommy?”
The fabric of Mydei’s mask presses to her neck, and the pressure of covered teeth has her shivering. Mydei’s finger taps again, then presses in firmly, rubbing in tight circles as Phainon shudders at the sudden friction. “I’ll give you what you need,” Mydei murmurs, too quiet for the cameras. “But I want you to come like this first.” That finger turns into two, pinching Phainon’s clit between them, squeezing, tugging, and Phainon grabs her wrist, grips tight enough to blanch the skin. “Can you do that for me?”
“Yes,” Phainon gasps, an answer and a plea. “Yes, I’m close, keep going,” they’re porn words but she means every one of them, hips twisting and kicking as she’s unceremoniously shoved to the edge.
“Now, Deliverer,” Mydei says, and her body obeys before her mind registers it. Pulsing heat rocks through her, legs attempting to close around Mydei’s hand and failing miserably. Mydei grabs one of her thighs, pulls it out, and her fingers drop lower to spread her dripping, pulsing cunt to the camera. She’s a natural, Phainon thinks inanely as her head falls back to Mydei’s shoulder, trying and failing to grind down into Mydei’s lap for any type of friction.
As the tension settles again and Phainon sags, breathing heavy, Mydei pinches the inside of her thigh right over where an existing bruise is. Phainon yelps at the sudden jolt of pain, dripping more as Mydei snorts a laugh. “That’s one,” she murmurs, and Phainon has to swallow hard. Half of her regrets giving Mydei this much free reign, but the rests of her is wired at the prospect. “Here, have to make sure I won’t hurt you,” she adds, and before Phainon can protest she adds, “Too much, at least.” Phainon’s soft whine is involuntary, and Mydei pats her wet cunt in response.
Then, as sparks burn through the ends of Phainon’s nerves, she presses two fingers inside her and immediately spreads them wider. The stretch is delicious, Phainon’s knees shaking in response, and her grip returns to Mydei’s wrist to hold her in place. With the other, Phainon cups her own chest, pinching the nipple Mydei’s taken to biting whenever she gets a chance. Between that and the steady schlick of Mydei’s fingers, Phainon’s dripping all over again, little splatters of her juices even reaching her own hand as Mydei works her fingers in faster, deeper.
When her fingers curl, Phainon can’t hold back the squeak, before huffing out a breath immediately after. “No fair,” she grumbles, but it sounds more like a whine. “You’re teasing me!”
“What are you going to do about it?” Mydei challenges, curling her fingers and lighting Phainon up from the inside as she deliberately presses against her g-spot. She lifts up, involuntary, and Mydei yanks her back down with a hand at her hip, but the strap slides between her cheeks, nudges right up against the back of her labia through the panties she’s still wearing and it has Phainon’s eyes widening, gasp sharp. The head of it is thick, bumping against her, and titans she wants to see so badly. Mydei shifts her hips a little, grinds it up against her, and it’s still a little cool against heated flesh. Rocking backwards has that head sliding forward until it bumps Mydei’s fingers, and Mydei laughs again.
“Greedy, my fingers aren’t enough for you?” she teases, and Phainon’s breath catches. More, she just wants more, it doesn’t matter how. Mydei works a third finger inside her like she knows, and Phainon shudders, mouth falling open. “There you go, nice and full.” Her fingers spread, stretching, and it’s almost too much. Mydei has a way of driving her to the end of her wits, drawing her out and working her up until she can barely breathe and Phainon’s panting against Mydei’s cheek, eyes fluttering closed. That almost makes it worse—all she can focus on is the sounds, the feeling of Mydei working her over, the thundering of her own pulse and the steady puff of Mydei’s breath.
Her orgasm hits out of nowhere. One second she’s rocking her hips into the press of Mydei’s fingers, back against her strap, then the next her eyes are snapping open, breath coming out in a wheezing moan as she tries to fold in half. It rocks her with its suddenness, Mydei’s soft cooing drowned out by her own pulse in her ears and the rocking shudder of tension release.
“Good girl,” is the first thing she hears when her senses return to her, the warmth of Mydei’s hand on her hip settling her into her bones. “That’s two—I’m not done with you yet.”
Titans, Mydei is going to be the death of her. She’s completely forgotten the camera, legs trembling where they’re splayed wide over Mydei’s thighs, and she knows she’s making a mess of Mydei’s nice slacks. When her fingers pull free Phainon knows she’s dripping, knows she’s more than ready for Mydei’s cock, but Mydei teases her anyway, lightly tapping her palm against Phainon’s pussy like it’s a well-behaved dog. “Are you going to be good, show the camera how much you want to be fucked?”
A shocked little moan escapes her, and it takes several attempts to whet her lips enough to speak. “If they can’t tell, I don’t know if anything will prove it,” her voice wobbles a little, but she gets the words out regardless. The hand at her pussy smacks again, harder this time, and the pleasure-pain floods Phainon's senses for a moment before she wrests back control. “I’ve been good—don’t I deserve it?” When she lifts up onto her knees this time Mydei lets her, hands bracketing her thighs instead to steady her. She lifts the short drape of her skirt, hesitates, then Mydei makes the decision for her, sliding her hand between Phainon’s legs and grabbing the gusset of her panties. She yanks, jerking Phainon back a little, and the rip of the fabric is loud in the room. A moment later Mydei is tossing the scrap aside, grabbing her hips again to guide her backwards.
“Keep the skirt up high, let them see,” Mydei murmurs, and when she twists to look, her mouth falls open. Mydei’s cock is thick, deep burgundy red, and there’s a heavy bulge at the base, silicone swelling almost as big as Mydei’s fist. Phainon has to pause as a heavy pulse of want rocks her, and Mydei taps her thighs lightly. “Too much for you? Didn’t think I’d see the day,” she taunts, misunderstanding Phainon’s hesitation for the briefest moment until Phainon’s grabbing Mydei’s wrists to steady herself and dropping down to the thick head of Mydei’s strap.
That taunting laugh is back, Mydei gripping tighter and holding Phainon still for a beat, two. Then she’s tugging, and Phainon’s pushing herself down onto the cock. It’s almost too thick despite Mydei stretching her, dragging against her walls. It doesn’t miss a single nerve ending, shoving Phainon far too close to the edge by the time she’s only halfway down it. Tears prick her eyes, mouth hanging open as she flexes her hips, lifts a little, then tries to push a little lower still. “So full,” she gasps, and Mydei tugs a little at her hips, mean.
“You’re not even halfway,” Mydei taunts even though she can feel the brush of the knot against her labia. There’s no way she’s fitting that—not yet, at least. Phainon shifts her knees, steadies herself again, lifts up with a shaky sound as the toy grinds up against every sensitive spot she could ever have. She presses back, and the slide is easier the second time, and the third.
All too soon Phainon is working her hips in unsteady pulses, Mydei’s murmured praise in her ear, and each time her hips drop the knot presses a little harder against her. Still too much, she tries to nudge it a little further down and has to stop, gasping at the thread of pain. Mydei soothes her hands over Phainon’s thighs, goading her, petting her, and one finds its way to Phainon’s chest to grope at her tit a moment later. “I know you can take me,” Mydei murmurs, pinching Phainon’s nipple and making her clench. “I got it just to fill you up.”
Each press of the thick base has Phainon quivering, heat threading through her. The idea that Mydei brought this with her in mind, oh that has her shuddering, eyes widening as she stares at the camera. “Just for me, mommy?” she whispers, and Mydei tugs her down a little more into her lap, breathing out a soft, unexpectedly heated sound against her ear. She wants it more, now. Wants to prove that she can take it, that Mydei hadn’t beaten her with this. Phainon rocks her hips in steady little circles, breath catching each time she pushes further down. It just keeps getting bigger, thicker, pressing at her walls and sending jangling pleasure-pain through her body. Each pinch of Mydei’s fingers is enough to distract her for a moment, have her slipping a little further down, and titans she’s so wet it’s a wonder there’s any resistance left at all.
“Just for you. Almost there, baby,” Mydei murmurs, hoarse, dropping her hand to cup Phainon’s cunt. Her fingers spread labia, stroke gently where she’s stretched taut against the thickness of the dildo, then she’s framing where Phainon’s impaled with two fingers to show her off to the camera. Phainon can’t see anything past Mydei’s arm but even that has her shivering—the black of her shirt standing out against the pale of Phainon’s skin. The silk is soft, the leather of Mydei’s gloves still buttery against her skin and Phainon wants to rub up against her like a cat. She just—she loves Mydei so much, loves this so much, loves—
The knot slips inside her with a pop she can feel, and her bitten-red lips part on a sudden gasp as the pressure inside her hits her like a brick. Vision going white, Phainon shudders. The only thing that keeps her upright is Mydei’s hands, one looping around her waist as she twists and breaks. It’s like a flood hitting her, her nails digging into Mydei’s arm hard as her legs go slack under her. Every twitch has her sliding further down the dildo, has that knot wedging itself deeper inside her, and she can’t stop coming.
“Too much, too much,” she whimpers when she gets her breath back, legs shaking, hands fluttering against Mydei’s arm, her thighs. Mydei ignores her, fucking deeper up into her then tugging Phainon’s lips up to withdraw herself.
“One more.” Mydei’s tone is sharp. She won’t take no for an answer unless Phainon is actually tapping out. And she would never. Nuh uh. So when Mydei yanks her back down Phainon just whimpers, pressing back into her grip as much as she can. She’s lucky Mydei can all but bench her because it’s Mydei doing most of the work here, working Phainon over her strap as Phainon’s legs get no stronger, as her body winds up so, so quickly all over again. Leather-covered fingers press between her lips and she takes them with an aborted little moan, licking the musk-tang of her own slick from Mydei’s fingers. Then Mydei’s back to toying with her clit, dragging her up until the knot is popping out of her then tugging her back down. It’s—she’s—it’s fast, she’s so easy as she shudders and twitches against Mydei’s fingers. She sags forward and Mydei lifts her off the strap almost immediately, letting her gush wetness over the head of it. “So wet,” Mydei purrs. The heat of her disappears from Phainon’s back, then hands are tugging her backwards, a hand disappearing from her hip for a moment before reattaching at her waist. “C’mere, give me a taste.”
Gangly legs barely work as Phainon scrabbles to try and support her own weight, hands landing on Mydei’s thighs, her belly. “Sit,” is the command. Phainon’s tugged back, feels the mask brush against one thigh before Mydei’s hot breath is against her gaping cunt and her tongue is working inside. Phainon squeaks, completely uncoordinated, barely catching herself as her whole body shakes. Mydei seems to just be cleaning up, but the tongue working inside her is heated, pointed, searching out Phainon’s sensitive spots as her chin tilts to rub against Phainon’s skin just shy of her clit. Phainon has to bite back Mydei’s name, has to bite her tongue quite literally, eyes wide and body hunching over as Mydei gives her no quarter.
A moan against her pussy has her shivering, and she comes face to face with the toy at Mydei’s hips. Unfairly thick, dripping wet, spreading the fabric of Mydei’s slacks like it belongs there. Shaky, Phainon shifts herself, grabs it. It’s still warm from the heat of her body. She presses the head to her lips just as Mydei’s chin digs into her clit and she moans against the silicone. The toy slips past her parted lips, her lashes fluttering, and the familiar musk of her own slick has her clenching again around Mydei’s tongue. She doesn’t usually do this—not unless she has a specific request. She doesn’t normally like the feeling in her mouth, but this time, knowing it’s Mydei’s, she lets it slip a little deeper into her mouth. A gag as it hits the back of her tongue. Phainon pulls back a little, lets spit and slick drip from her mouth over the toy as her thighs clamp around Mydei’s head.
A rhythm doesn’t come naturally but she tries, matching the pulse of Mydei’s tongue as she works the toy deeper into her mouth, testing the edge of her limits. Mydei’s fingers dig bruises into her inner thighs, and she must have realised what’s keeping Phainon quiet because she lifts her hips and the toy slips deeper still. Phainon’s whole body tenses as she gags, then Mydei’s tongue is pulling out, leaving her empty. A muffled whine, but she doesn’t go far—she toys with Phainon’s clit until she’s shuddering, until she’s writhing, until the only thing that keeps her in place is Mydei’s hands on her thighs and strap down her throat. She pulls off, gasping, and Mydei hums approvingly as Phainon immediately uses her freedom to beg in hoarse, unsteady words. “Please—don’t—don’t stop—ple—ah—yes—”
The last orgasm takes her by stealth. One moment she’s reaching back, digging her fingers into Mydei’s soft hair and stuttering through a plea, the next moment she’s tilting, shuddering as her eyes jam shut and her world implodes. Hands pet her thighs, up to her sides as her awareness returns to her, and Phainon heaves in an unsteady breath. Mydei tilts her to the side, lets her fall to the bedsheets, and pets her thigh before standing. Phainon, bleary, watches Mydei lick her lips as she approaches the camera, as she turns it off, and when her girlfriend turns it’s with a predatory little smile on her slick red lips.
“Mydei,” she says the second the recording light blinks out, hands shakily reaching for her. She has no strength, it’s all been sucked out of her, and the one responsible is sauntering closer with a wet chin as she peels her gloves off and unbuttons her shirt collar. “Titans, Mydei,” she huffs, gets a laugh in return as Mydei’s pants get kicked free and the harness unbuckled from her narrow hips. “What in the hells was that?”
“Was it good?” Mydei asks like Phainon’s not still twitching, crawling over her to sprawl over Phainon’s shrimped body like a cat. It all but forces Phainon to roll onto her back, arms akimbo until she realises what’s in reach. Shaky hands grope the front of Mydei’s shirt, undoing enough buttons to get her hands inside. Mydei’s got a bra on—but it’s a front closure and Phainon’s gotten her out of this one before. The closure falls victim to her fingers, then she’s groping at Mydei’s tits, moaning overdramatically just to make Mydei bite her neck in retaliation.
“No,” Phainon snarks, “I didn’t come once,” as Mydei snickers against her throat, licks the sweat from her skin. “What about you—can I—?”
Mydei snorts, but grabs one of Phainon's hand and shoves it down. Phainon’s not about to waste the invitation, burrowing her hand into her clothes. Mydei’s panties are wet with Phainon’s slick, but when she works under them her fingers encounter Mydei’s own puffy, hot labia. Her clit is hard, slick-wet, and Mydei moans against her throat. “Gentle,” she huffs like Phainon’s never handled her cunt before, nipping a trail of bruises down Phainon’s throat. “Sensitive.”
“Did you come while fucking me?” Phainon gentles her touch a little more, strokes instead of circling the bud. Mydei’s hips chase in little movements, breath hitching and wet. When Phainon lifts a thigh it makes contact with wet, and Mydei rubs back against the pressure with a soft moan.
“Mmm—maybe,” she mumbles, “Yes, the sounds you were making on my knot,” She moans again, hips twitching. Close, she’s nearly there, and Phainon needs to see it, needs to watch her come. “Almost kept going ‘til you passed out,” Mydei rumbles, her voice low hoarse. “You were rubbing right up on me, what was I going to do, hmm?”
Phainon pinches her clit lightly, drags down to collect more slick before returning to the gentle pressure. She hadn’t guessed—Mydei’s so quiet when she wants to be, kept it so under-wraps, and the fact that only she will know that Mydei came for her like that has her shivering. “You’re so—hot, you know that?” Phainon says into her temple. “I wanna make you come again.”
Mydei huffs out a laugh, then gasps, hips hitching forward. “You will.” Her eyes flutter closed, lashes brushing against Phainon’s skin. Her tits are rubbing against Phainon’s own, nipples dragging over her sensitive skin, and she grabs one, pinches Mydei’s nipple and tugs as the woman squirms above her. “Yes—there,” she gasps, nails digging into Phainon’s shoulder, into the sheet below. “Stay there,” she breathes, hips jerking, until—
Mydei lets out a soft, wet sound, lips parting against Phainon’s throat. Her body trembles, and her back arches up as Phainon’s fingers get wetter still, clit pulsing underneath her touch. Then she sags her full weight into Phainon, one tit squishing between Phainon’s own, and for a moment, just a moment, the only sound is Mydei’s rapid breath and the thunder of blood in Phainon’s ears. Then Mydei lets out a soft, pleased little sigh, rubs her face against Phainon’s throat again, then lifts her chin to kiss her. Mydei’s tongue is languid, lazy as it laps against hers, and Phainon smiles into the kiss.
“Good?” she teases, and Mydei smacks her shoulder.