Final Fantasy Nine: Beatrix/Garnet
Title: Lady Sworn
Author: forgottenlover
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Femme Slash?
Word count: 305
Summary: Fealty is not the same as servitude.
Ultimately, at heart, she was her queen's General. Because of this, she could not be one who had the urge to surrender, and definitely not one with the disposition for it. That was the Queen's place in this room. She needed that, the chance to be weak when not before her subjects, and she, being the queen's lady, knew it well.
Running a hand up pale curves, she stroked the other woman's belly, watching the way the muscles jumped under the contact, knowing her touch was too light to truly be satisfying. That was the purpose of it.
Her other hand was no better, rubbing ever so lightly against sensitive damp places that were, if anything, more reactive than the rest of the woman. Her lovely queen, so much more an honor to serve than the woman before her, so much more beautiful, lay spread and exposed, clutching the covers, eyes tightly closed.
She never wondered why her queen so often blocked out the sight of her, but she didn't mind, it made the woman more uninhibited, gasps and groans much less self-conscious than they were when she tried to watch the one touching her.
It made her more apt to beg as well, and she let a small smile flit over her lips as she leaned, pressing a kiss to the soft skin of the other woman's hip. "My Queen, Garnet, what was it you had to say?"
As her soft pink tongue darted to wet dry lips, the woman tried again, forming something coherent from the earlier whines, twitching up to the touch low on her body. "Please. Please more Beatrix. Please."
"Of course my Queen." Eyes staying on the woman's face, that expression of need, she kissed lower. She would, of course, give her as she asked.
But.
Only because she asked.
Author: forgottenlover
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Femme Slash?
Word count: 305
Summary: Fealty is not the same as servitude.
Ultimately, at heart, she was her queen's General. Because of this, she could not be one who had the urge to surrender, and definitely not one with the disposition for it. That was the Queen's place in this room. She needed that, the chance to be weak when not before her subjects, and she, being the queen's lady, knew it well.
Running a hand up pale curves, she stroked the other woman's belly, watching the way the muscles jumped under the contact, knowing her touch was too light to truly be satisfying. That was the purpose of it.
Her other hand was no better, rubbing ever so lightly against sensitive damp places that were, if anything, more reactive than the rest of the woman. Her lovely queen, so much more an honor to serve than the woman before her, so much more beautiful, lay spread and exposed, clutching the covers, eyes tightly closed.
She never wondered why her queen so often blocked out the sight of her, but she didn't mind, it made the woman more uninhibited, gasps and groans much less self-conscious than they were when she tried to watch the one touching her.
It made her more apt to beg as well, and she let a small smile flit over her lips as she leaned, pressing a kiss to the soft skin of the other woman's hip. "My Queen, Garnet, what was it you had to say?"
As her soft pink tongue darted to wet dry lips, the woman tried again, forming something coherent from the earlier whines, twitching up to the touch low on her body. "Please. Please more Beatrix. Please."
"Of course my Queen." Eyes staying on the woman's face, that expression of need, she kissed lower. She would, of course, give her as she asked.
But.
Only because she asked.