Payback time. "P-Pippa? What are you doing?" "Shh, relax it will feel good I promise." "I-I've never ... done. Nobody ha-" "Hiccup, are you telling me no one has ever gone down on you before?"
Inspired by this meme. Send me a first line here!
thrown headlong into smut. Why it’s my very favourite time!
{Normally I edit and read-aloud through everything I write before posting, but this is completely unedited. Hopefully @hecate-hardbroom will help me there. (; }
‘P-Pippa? What are you doing?’
Well, she had been journeying down Hecate’s endless thigh with a trail of kisses, but now Pippa paused for a moment to sit on her haunches. ‘Shh dearest, relax, it will feel good–I promise.’
She nipped at the perfectly pale skin just inside and above Hecate’s knee and saw gooseflesh run rampant all across her flesh.
‘I-I’ve never…done… Nobody ha–’
Pippa cut her off right there. ‘Hiccup, are you telling me no one has ever gone down on you before?’
It pained her to see the shame in Hecate’s eyes, as if both her inexperience and her interest indicated some failure or perversion. Pippa bit her lip, thinking.
‘It’s not–it’s not proper, is it–hygienic, I mean? Who would want to, there, on–on me?’ Hecate continued.
That was well enough of that, Pippa decided. She crawled up the length of Hecate’s body and brushed the leather off her shoulders. It had made a pretty picture, Hecate unbound from her leather dressing-gown, the material like a billowing trench-coat beneath her, but it was time to come off now. Who beyond Pippa might have guessed she sometimes wore nothing beneath?
Pippa gazed down at Hecate from above her head, taking in the full bright length of her against the black material: the way it and her dark makeup, dark brows, dark eyes, dark hair and dark southern curls brought out the milky-white light of her, the dark Hecate Hardbroom glow. So fresh, so mark-able. So surprisingly innocent–and Pippa keen to corrupt. But kindly, ever with care.
She pulled Hecate’s arms from the second skin of her gown, slipped the material out from under her for a moment and slipped into it herself.
‘What do you think? Am I leather enough for you?’ Pippa did a twirl in the leather dressing-gown. She’d intended it in jest, but as the material slid around her and back into place, it touched on her every curve, fell against her nipples and the soft skin of her bottom, even brushed against the curls between her legs. It drew a delicate gasp from her.
Hecate, who had been laughing at the show, was suddenly quiet. The heat in her eyes spoke wonders.
Pippa smiled–it was working.
‘You look ridiculous,’ Hecate said to recover herself, but they both knew she was lying.
Pippa wrapped the material around herself like a bat and slowly withdrew it. The sleeves were slipping down from her shoulders as she asked quite innocently, ‘Do I really?’
The dressing-gown fell to her forearms; she wrapped her arms and the material around her hips, pressing her breasts forward. Hecate swallowed.
‘I thought not.’ Pippa grinned and watched Hecate shift uncomfortably, suddenly nude in a way she hadn’t been before and stretched over a bed of soft black cushions. As Pippa watched, the gown fell to the floor in a heap–only to be plucked up by her nimble toes before the other woman could complain. Only once the material was righted, with an excellent view of the pink between her legs, did Pippa murmur, ‘Now, where were we?’
Hecate’s eyes were bright with nervous excitement as Pippa drew closer and crawled up the bed between the witch’s legs. But Pippa only left one chaste kiss to each pointed hip-bone before she was up by Hecate’s mouth again, kissing her with the force of every damnable second spent distanced from her friend’s perfect red mouth. Pippa mixed it with the pink of her own and took care to lick along their bottom lips, slow and intentional, their gaze never breaking.
‘I know how you like my mouth here,’ Pippa whispered against Hecate’s mouth. ‘When I suck at your lips or grip you with my teeth or dance with your tongue.’
Each time Pippa mentioned something, she was sure to remind the woman with the kiss itself: the pulling of Hecate’s bottom lip between her own, the swipe of a tongue, the gentle scraping of teeth upon release–and there was the point of Hecate’s tongue to greet her, nothing invasive, merely a tapping and touching. It drove Pippa wild.
‘Well all you must do is imagine it there, where you have that pretty pink pearl to set you aflame–and don’t you know how I love pink?’ Pippa pressed her body to Hecate’s, their hips at equal level and Pippa flush against her, arching back to whisper in Hecate’s ear. ‘You know what else I love? The idea of doing that–specifically on you. Do you think I can make your toes crawl?’
Pippa switched ears, nudging it gently with her nose and smiling lips. She gently kissed one delicate ridge and spoke again, her breath controlled but hot against Hecate’s sensitive ear. ‘I want your fingers curling in my hair while I have my mouth on you. I’d like to see you finish on my face, see if you can look at me or if I’ll force your head back in ecstasy. What do you think?’
She moved back, angling herself to perch between Hecate’s legs but still at eye level. She cupped a hand over the witch’s cunt and massaged the area as she asked, ‘Would you like that?’
Hecate stared at her for what seemed like a short eternity, a gaze filled with undeniable heat mingled with the hesitation of projected rejection. The fear Hecate wanted none to see and hated the way Pippa could sense immediately, but never managed to hate Pippa herself, despite years of half-hearted attempts.
Then came the nearly imperceptible nod, a mere dropping and raising of the chin, an act that might seem incidental or accidental in any other but not Hecate Hardbroom, whose every move was practised and calculated. Hecate Hardbroom who feared this lowering mouth may take that very thing from her: control.
But Pippa’s mouth was so pretty, pink-stained as it was, pressing butterfly kisses down Hecate’s thigh. Her lips left no trail; her lipstick was too good for that. She walked her fingers down Hecate’s other thigh until they met the apex. There she sent them questing for the tight band of nerves atop the crease, hidden under a beautiful pink hood: there, the length of Hecate’s perceived weakness, Pippa’s known strength. She stroked with a thumb as she set to kissing Hecate’s hipbone again–rather less chastely than before.
‘Don’t stop,’ Hecate breathed, her fingers falling over Pippa’s without pressure. ‘You can–’ Hecate held up two fingers together, nearly blushing. ‘–if you want.’
‘Oh, I want anything you want,’ Pippa replied without hesitation. She perched again between her lover’s legs and set to pulling gently at the lovely little hood and the tight nerves beneath: up and down, up and down, up and down. She noticed Hecate’s legs twitch twice in its rhythm, a moan leaving her lips in-between.
Pippa slipped one finger inside and then, finding well enough room, slipped in another. She pressed Hecate down with them for a moment, pushing in deep and strong, until Hecate was angling her hips for more. With a smile, Pippa twisted her wrist and angled her fingers up, beckoning another sound of pleasure from Hecate as her hands worked in tandem.
‘You’re beautiful stretched out like that,’ Pippa said softly, kissing Hecate’s knees again.
‘You’re–beautiful when–’ Pippa’s fingers worked faster as her smirk rose and Hecate gave up with an, ‘–ahhh!’
When Hecate was riding her hands outright Pippa slowed, causing another long groan from the woman, this one of a very different sort. She looked confused when at last she was able to find Pippa’s eyes.
How flushed she looked already, how ensconced in the one moment, how utterly wiling to take the plunge…
Pippa dropped herself properly between Hecate’s legs, for the moment removing her fingers but only to replace it with the whole heat of her mouth. She angled Hecate’s legs up over her shoulders, cradling herself between soft skin and hard wiry muscle.
‘Oh my go–oh, holy hell, that feels–hnnn–you’re amazing.’
Pippa didn’t bother to say that of course she knew, it was so eminently obvious. Instead she let Hecate move against her mouth and cast the rhythm, following it as she swiped between Hecate’s lower lips with her tongue.
‘Never stop,’ Hecate gasped, her fingers leaving Pippa’s arm and coming to rest instead in her increasingly-unbound hair. And then, her eyes boring into Pippa’s, Hecate added, ‘Please. Your eyes, oh Pippa, they’re–mmm, yes, perfect.’
Pippa made a low sound of pleasure against Hecate’s flesh and the witch’s head flung back against the cushions. Pippa smiled against her and brought her mouth higher, to where her thumb had been moments before, and there she sucked lightly.
To have her mouth here after so many years imagining it, to know hers were the first lips to kiss Hecate where it mattered most–where it left her most vulnerable, where it arched her back and moved her hips like this… Well, Pippa was lost to her own arousal in response. She was tempted to steal a hand down to her own aching parts but for now she wanted them both for Hecate.
With one hand Pippa used her fingers to spread Hecate beneath her tongue; with the other she inserted the fingers again. Hecate moaned and sought them out with her hips. Goodness, could she circle her hips like nothing else–a regular hula girl, this one.
Pippa pictured her in a gothic-black hula outfit and laughed against her clit. Hecate moaned again until her brain caught up and she had the usual sense–of insecurity–to look up with that hidden inquisitive look, the wounded wonder if she’d done something wrong, something worth the laughing at. Pippa purred against her and tilted her head to pull at Hecate’s folds in quick swipes.
That seemed to distract Hecate plenty. Somehow both her hands found themselves in Pippa’s highlighted streaks of golden hair; what had remained in the up-do had since escaped to the constrained freedom of Hecate’s clutching fingers.
‘Not for all the stars in the heavens–’ She gasped, unintentionally guiding Pippa with her hands as much as her hips. ‘This is going to–mmm oh there, please–this is going to–to kill me.’
‘Not too terribly,’ Pippa argued with a smirk, followed by a hard lick up with the broad of her tongue. ‘Was just thinking how well you move your cunt on my face.’
Hecate’s eyes shot open at the sound of such a crass word on Pippa’s tongue, which set–through her smile–to flicking across the withc’s clit at an astonishing rate. Hecate’s shock was quickly overwhelmed by the jolts of her pleasure.
‘I can talk dirty like the rest of them–better, even,’ Pippa added with a devilish smile. She could feel Hecate’s muscles tightening around her fingers. ‘So you think or say whatever dirty words you want.’
Pippa let one finger slip down between Hecate’s cheeks to touch on taboo lower fare, worked the fingers, thumbed across her hood and, when she saw Hecate’s hand fly up to grip a pillow with white fingers, took a deep breath. Then dove in to suck in rhythm with Hecate’s hips.
The fingers were painful in Pippa’s hair but she loved it, lived for it, when it meant she felt Hecate’s gripping her like this in every conceivable way.
‘Oh fuck–Pippa–I’m going to crushh-hh-hh you, fu–ahhhh.’
Pippa was chuckling as Hecate’s thighs closed in around her–trapping her, yes, in the one place she most loved to be.
And where her companion seemed to love having her: Hecate came over her face and hands, tension and release flooding Hecate’s body in turn.
Her skin flushed with it, a deep pink spreading over the once perfectly-alabaster canvas. Pippa was instantly enamoured of the colour; she wanted to see it whenever she could. She knew pink looked good on Hecate.
Hecate, who was still gasping and grunting and gyrating on Pippa’s pink-smeared lips (no lipstick was perfect). Every little sound was music to Pippa’s ears, or they would have been, had Pippa any access of her hearing. Instead her ears were closed within the squeezing cavern of Hecate’s thighs, making all sound seem underwater but richly clear in sights: Hecate stretched out before her, nude and pinked, ripping at a decorative cushion and looking more splendidly euphoric than anyone had any right to be.
Pippa stopped only when the hand in her hair released–and immediately missed the pressure, at least for the moment, until it started tugging her up again. Pippa stayed her course for the moment. ‘It’s a cliché, but… Circe’s name, Hecate, you’re wet. Anyone might think you’re enjoying yourself too much.’
‘Come here, then, before I enjoy myself any more.’
Pippa gently pried the thighs off her shoulders and leaned back enough to look between the two.
There, in perfect replica, the mold of her earrings embedded in Hecate’s skin. Pippa kissed the softness there and felt the ridges of her earrings beneath her lips. She licked them and gazed up at Hecate, who was staring at her in wonder and yanking her up.
Pippa knew the expression on her lover’s face–kiss-hungry, that was it. Any other time Pippa would have immediately obliged. This time she paused. ‘You taste delicious, but are you sure you want to…?’
‘I hadn’t thought of–I can’t be delicious, that’s ridiculous.’
Pippa shrugged. ‘Suit yourself, but I’d sure as hedwitch sample you again.’
Something flashed in Hecate’s eyes, something primal and unrepentant. She pulled Pippa the final length to her mouth and seared her with a kiss, lingering there for a moment before pulling away.
Hecate’s cheeks were still pink. ‘That’s not…not as bad as I thought.’
‘Tastes perfectly lovely to me and I’ll thank you very much to allow me my preferences,’ Pippa piped in, rolling atop Hecate to spread a leg between her two. ‘Especially when that preference is you.’
She tugged Hecate’s leg up to bend at the knee and straddled it, her own naked parts sensitive to every touch of Hecate’s skin–and oh, the wiry muscle beneath…
‘In fact I’d go so far to say you may ask me any time, night or day, to sample you similarly. You have my permissive allowance to booty-call in times of stress, boredom, joy or your regular: peevishness.’
Hecate laughed at that and steadied Pippa on her upper thigh with two hands on her slender hips. From there Pippa did much of the work; her hips were not so unused to motion either.
And then, oh blessed be them, there were Hecate’s fingers–they were magical fingers, you understand, but in more capacity than one. Hecate needed no magic beyond her own muscles for this, although Pippa–sometimes wondered if her lover sometimes cast an extra ensnaring spell upon her that worked a charm.
Once Pippa had the fingers, she need no more thigh.
The fingers, oh the fingers were endless, fit three off the start snug as a magic triangle hitting her where it mattered; and then there was the hand that cupped her fine, fine, fine; and then there was that strong stirring thumb up where it could thrum thrum thrum
and Pippa was lost, but not quite–not quite enough.
She was still gazing down Hecate’s long dancer’s neck to her slender frame and surprising bust–so soft, so touchable, were those her pink nails on pink nipple? Oh, oops, but Hecate’s hiss goes straight to the thrumbpoint and radiates to the hand fingers ohhh Pippa shivers with it but she is not quite lost, not yet. She can keep control.
That lovely waist so often bound in layers of fabric and leather and corsetry, soft as sunrise there with her spotless skin. To cup it is to know the form of waves–and she moves like one, Hecate does, down in the hips. And oh, her sex was on Pippa’s leg hot as heaven soft as silk, Hecate’s warm inviting breath on her face and it feels so good, so close, so close… but she is not quite lost, she’s still here on earth with Hecate taking in the slope of her hip.
The shape of it makes her want to cry. It reminds her of the mountain Hecate wants to be, but that here amongst the cushions Hecate is hilly and inviting, a hand waving over it and coming back to grip the bottom behind where all the waves come from. The waves of Hecate’s hips so close to hers with only Hecate’s own hand between them, with the thumb and long hand and curling fingers and the tide is coming in, but Pippa is not quite completely lost, she’s still here in the waters of Hecate’s wet sex.
But then there is Hecate’s forehead on hers, eyes boring into hers, demanding kisses from lips that still tasted of her and this is where the losing starts.
Because Hecate always looks before she kisses and Pippa always looks before she kisses and eyes are dangerous places; the soul lives there. Intoxicating, those moments before kisses, between kisses, during kisses…
And the thought of it, just the thought of Hecate’s dark earthen gaze, draws a quiet sound from Pippa.
‘What was that, Pippa? Did I hear a…no, I mustn’t have heard a squeak?’
‘Sod your squeak,’ Pippa gasped out.
‘Oh, I think I am.’ Hecate’s voice was soft, low and deadly yet sweet and thick as honey. It drove Pippa mad; it made her want to kiss that stupid sensual so-sure-of-itself mouth. Passionately.
Pippa shuddered and bit hard on her lip.
‘None of that,’ Hecate said and dove down with her head to nudge Pippa’s up–all of a sudden she was there at Hecate’s neck, so white she might see through it and soft as babyskin but not a baby’s skin, Hecate’s delicious mark-able skin…
Hecate hissed again as the teeth found her but there seemed to be a smile to it. She turned to press her cheek against Pippa’s, lips right next to her ears, and she moaned so low and synced with her hands that Pippa felt it through her cunt and right back up to her chest again, where she could still feel it emanating through Hecate’s bare breasts.
Pippa let out a soft wavering sound, restrained by the buffering of Hecate’s skin.
‘None of that either if you’re going to literally bite down noise,’ Hecate said in her ear, snapping her teeth together in a bite as she finished. ‘I won’t be made accomplice to that crime.’
And then she was nuzzling her way down Pippa’s cheek and she was getting lost in the scent of Hecate’s hair–she caught whiff of rosemary today–and the touch of her downy skin and the decreasing distance of their lips.
‘Hello, Pippa.’ There Hecate was right before her, Pippa could feel it although she couldn’t see it through her closed eyes. Lips loomed close to hers but not touching, barely touching, almost-could-be-not-touching.
Pippa whimpered; the fingers moved with more precision inside her and she had to grip Hecate’s arm like a handrail because the world was already turning, was already giving her up to float away. She only had one tether here.
She opened her eyes and there was Hecate Hardbroom, her inkwell of hair unbound and spilling over their shoulders, smelling of oils, and her face… Pippa drank in every fond line of it and clung for dear life.
Because there, right beneath the road-sign black brows, were Hecate’s eyes.
They seemed to be all colours, earthen in the centre to icy in the wings and they could hold more emotion than some people could in their bodies and sometimes that feeling was the scorn that made her passionately stunning but then sometimes, these rare some times that it seemed mostly Pippa got to see, they would fill with such inviting love that Pippa would fall into them.
And here they were, focusing through the blur from her clench-closed eyes, staring into hers with all the tender love the world thought she never had, all writ in her eyes. Pippa felt the tether tighten up from her clit; it squeezed her every muscle, tightened her nipples, made pleasure shudder out of her and wrap them in the intimate spell of urgent ecstasy in which Pippa was at last lost, lost like her control, lost like her ability to hold back–
and she squeaked. There against Hecate’s mouth not quite kissing but yes touching touching touching–
‘Hello, Pipsqueak.’ The laughter was back in Hecate’s eyes, riding high over her proud nose and her perfect red lips, and when she laughed her breath pulled in silly like a snort only it sounded a little like a–
‘Hello, Hiccup,’ Pippa squeaked against her mouth an instant before she devoured it. She was on fire from head to foot and she needed her mouth on Hecate’s, needed them connected in every way they could be.
She couldn’t help the noises, she simply couldn’t. It wasn’t possible with the way Hecate’s hand moved and the way she pinched a nipple like it was anything but a toy, but it certainly wasn’t possible when she was watching like that with her smiling eyes and the light of her face and the love of her eyes as her lips uttered against Pippa’s, ‘Would you like to fly, Pipsqueak? Shall I make you fly?’
Pippa was so lost to it she nearly forgot the words, but after a squeak-turned-moan she managed to find a few again: ‘Yes please, Hiccup.’ Pippa gasped and fell against Hecate’s neck, pressing her shoulder near Hecate’s face and yes, there were the teeth, harder even than Pippa had done because pink was not such a prissy colour and she moaned, or thought she moaned, but it only came out a long-low squeak.
She laughed in Hecate’s ear. ‘Do your worst, Hiccup.’
The fingers of both hands moved around and inside her in such intricate designs and patterns that Pippa lost track. She lost everything. She lost herself.
Heat spread over her like wildfire, engulfing her in itchy heat like a phoenix rebirthed, burning her from her golden scalp down to the soles of her soft dainty feet and in farther to the soul she felt stirring beneath Hiccup’s fingers, the very ones that worked within her now with their mysterious magic and Hecate was kissing her again.
‘It’s here–I’m gone, I’m gone, I don’t know how long but–’
Hecate finished her words, ‘I’ll be here when you touch down.’
Pippa burst like a star, all molten heat and shining light reflected in Hecate’s bedroom eyes.
She cried out in no specific way, merely an opening of her throat and the relieving of air Hecate drew out of her, but it came as melodic as she did, modulated by the motions of Hecate’s hands and hips sung right back into her face.
And as Pippa soared there euphoria, she got a faint idea that commenced before she could confirm it: pulling away from Hecate’s hand and immediately settling again near her hip bone, where Pippa’s leg could do the same against the heat of Hecate. Pippa rode against her with ever power of her hips.
Hecate yelped against her and immediately did the same.
Ohhh how they rode together. Even on broomsticks they could ride as one, the envy of all the other broom-pairs in the school. Together like this with nothing between their legs but the other’s leg… it was synchronicity to make the heavens weep.
Hecate made little restrained sounds against her, keeping her breathing steady and Pippa was staring into her eyes as everything in her turned to the pleasure of Pippa’s leg, and she could feel the heat down there where they danced their legs together and the heat in Hecate’s gaze
so Pippa was still coming. She wrapped her arms around Hecate’s slim but strong shoulders and held on for dear life, her mouth hovering near Hecate’s.
‘Hicc-up.’ Pippa didn’t intend to squeak the last syllable. She dropped her voice to try again but Hecate purposefully ground against her to draw the name out of her in spurts. ‘Hiccu–uh–uh–uh–uhp, please don’t, oh oh oh please don’t ever stop.’
‘Gladly obliged,’ Hecate replied, but the ‘d’ was lost to a long throaty sound as Pippa burst before her eyes, grinding against her in a heated frenzy as she let out something like a long pent-up roar, grasping and scratching at Hecate like a cat.
Pippa was utterly lost to the heat of herself and the burn of it beneath her skin; the hungry fire that filled her every muscle and glowed red on her skin. She gasped against Hecate’s mouth but the moan still escaped and Pippa wasn’t sure whose it was, for Hecate was burning up in her arms and clutching at her back all the same.
They rocked themselves through the frenzy and the heat of it until their motions grew soft and rhythmic, until they were aware again of their place in the bed and in the mortal coil.
Their kisses were lazy now. Slow-motion with no intent or destination, only the silent speaking of their lips in grazes and pressure, in slight grips and tongue-tips. At least until Hecate pulled away to gaze down Pippa’s barely-cooling body.
‘Next time, I’m doing that to you.’
It jolted Pippa enough that she squealed against Hiccup and settled more comfortably in her arms.
‘Gladly obliged,’ Pipsqueak mimicked, kissing Hiccup’s neck. ‘If you wear the new set I bought you.’
‘You want me in clothes?’
Nails in lazy circles over Hecate’s back and down her rib-cage to her waist, the touch to her sensitive skin shutting her eyes up fast. ‘Lingerie hardly counts as clothes–and I can always tear them off with my teeth.’
‘The point is,’ and here Hecate yawned, ‘I’m doing the bit with the teeth.’ She paused; a hand fell onto Pippa’s sex-raked hair. ‘That is, I don’t mean to say you–’
‘I do, as it turns out, but it also turns out, Hiccup, we can both wear lingerie. Who’s to say you’re the only one with a new set?’
Then, blast it, a yawn. Hecate’s warmth, Pippa’s exhaustion. She fell asleep to the sound of Hecate’s lips drawing up in a smile and pressing against her hair, where they remained.
Even in her sleep, Pippa cooed.
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