triple threat!
summary: a collection of threesomes with genshin women <3 basically just pure smut without plot, you can find the specific content warnings before each section
pairings: clorinde x reader x navia, dehya x reader x candace, arlecchino x reader x columbina
a/n: first time writing threesomes & ngl these kinda beat my ass but it was still a fun experience! happy pride month 2 my sapphics i hope u enjoy <3 dividers by enchanthings
round one! ꨄ︎ roses and muskets
pairing: navia/reader/clorinde
content: dom!reader, switch!navia, sub!clorinde, use of strap-ons, teasing & humiliation, clorinde is kind of a sopping wet cat, clit play, begging, petnames, whiny navia, reader tops clorinde who is topping navia (basically a reader/clorinde/navia sandwich 😋🍽️)
Clorinde knew better than anyone to never fall victim to her pride—one of the easier lessons Master Petronilla had hammered into her mind as a child. It was regarded as a deadly sin for good reason; a dangerous emotion that, more often than not, served as far greater a threat to her opponents than her sword did when dueling in the name of justice.
If made to choose, however, she supposed it would be her discipline that she prided herself on most.
It defined the most important aspects of her life; the strict routines she maintained for her physical and mental wellbeing, her ability to guide a rowdy group of friends through the newest Tabletop Troupe script, and, most importantly, her career as a Champion Duelist. If she couldn’t trust the head on her shoulders to remain calm and unflinching even when under levels of pressure that would crush most others, then she could never be trusted to enact justice with the blade in her hand. Discipline before desire, duty before leisure, that was how she operated to keep herself running like a well-oiled meka.
Clorinde’s hands, never once faltering when they delivered swift and precise judgement, so clean in her movements that not a single splatter of blood came to stain her white gloves, now grasped at the bedsheets, clumsy and useless.
“Look at that, she’s shaking,” Navia crooned. “Is it really too much for you, Clori?”
Peering over Clorinde’s tensed shoulders, you could see Navia grinning up at you where she was sprawled out beneath the younger woman on the mattress, glossy lips curled up into a jeer that harbored just a bit more wicked intent than you were used to seeing in her sunbeam of a smile.
Clorinde’s back muscles flexed, all the strength that rippled under her skin doing absolutely nothing to aid her as she struggled to make her hips move properly, to morph that smirk of Navia’s into an open-mouthed cry of pleasure. Her already labored breathing hitched again when she felt you lean forward from behind, your soft chest pressing against her sculpted frame in a contrast that made it infinitely more challenging for her to remain collected.
“She asked you a question, baby,” you said, taking satisfaction in the goosebumps that arose on Clorinde’s pink-dusted skin when the notes of your voice tickled her neck. Obediently, she opened her mouth to speak, only for the feeling of your strap-on sinking even deeper inside her to make anything she’d planned to say fizzle out like a pistol firing without a bullet. Navia’s giggles mixed with yours as Clorinde clamped her lips shut again, trying her hardest to muffle the whimper that rose in her throat—one that would surely earn her more ridicule.
Navia was right; she was shaking. You could see her arms quivering under her own weight each time you thrusted into her with long, deep strokes. They were so languid, casual almost, it made it all the more embarrassing that she was so heavily affected by them. The force of your hips pushing against Clorinde every time you bottomed out was the only thing that provided Navia any relief underneath the both of you, each smack of skin nudging Clorinde’s strap against her hungry walls just enough to give her a brief taste of the friction she was missing out on.
“C’mon, Clorinde,” you urged. “Our poor baby’s dying to feel good, down there. You can do better than that, can’t you?”
You brushed the long locks of Clorinde’s hair to the side, spilling them over her shoulder in an indigo waterfall so you could press encouraging kisses to the slope of her neck. She swallowed hard, scolding herself, commanding herself to say something instead of just pushing her hips back against yours and gazing down helplessly at Navia’s pouting face. The thought of how pathetic she must’ve looked to the both of you briefly crossed her mind amidst everything else that had it spinning, making liquid shame pool in her cheeks.
“I-I—” she hissed as you grazed your teeth over her flesh without warning, dragging them along her nape in unison with the toy dragging against her walls. “Yes, I can,” she insisted breathlessly, doing her best to not let her disappointment show when you didn’t immediately fill her back up again, instead keeping only the tip of your strap inside for a torturous few seconds while she fluttered around it. An act of mercy so she could at least finish her sentence. “I’m more than capable of…I just, just need a moment to—”
A half-choked gasp interrupted her as you sank back into her pussy all at once, creating a smack so sharp that the sound alone made Navia’s toes curl with envious desire. Everything she wanted, everything she needed was unfolding right before her eyes, and she wasn’t allowed to indulge in a single drop of it. She spread her thighs wider in the sheets with the hopes of making things easier for Clorinde, blue manicured nails gripping urgently at the duelist’s hips to try and subtly guide her movements.
You took notice of Navia’s wandering hands right away, clicking your tongue and shooting her a disapproving look from over Clorinde’s shoulder. “No helping her, Navia. She’s gotta figure this out all on her own.”
Your chiding was meant with a long, high-pitched whine that was irresistibly cute, almost enough to sway you. Regardless of the enjoyment it brought her to mess with Clorinde, Navia’s patience was slipping fast, eyebrows furrowing with frustration and hips wriggling from side to side in a desperate attempt to gain some kind of gratification from the strap that had been nestled motionless inside of her from the moment Clorinde had first bottomed out. In retrospect, it was a miracle that she’d even managed to slip the toy past Navia’s entrance in the first place when her brain was as scrambled as it currently was.
“Not fair,” Navia protested, but despite herself, she still let her hands fall from the curve of Clorinde’s hips in defeat. A body so agile and reliable in combat, now rendered powerless under the dizzying press of warm skin enveloping her from all directions. “It’s not fair, my love. Why does Clori get all the attention? Please, I wanna feel good, too.”
“I know, baby. It’s so unfair.” Your tone was dripping with sympathy, but your thrusts continued without a care in the world, gradually picking up in speed so that whatever remained of Clorinde’s composure crumbled with each cruel glide of your hips. The ridges of your strap rolled against every velvety crevice inside her just right, barely giving her the chance to miss the sensation of being filled up before you were pushing deep inside of her again. “But it’s Clorinde’s job to make you feel good, not yours. Keep your hands to yourself.”
This time, the whines came from both of them; Clorinde’s faint and abashed, Navia’s loud and defiant.
“But—”
“She says she can do it, right? She’s more than capable,” you echoed Clorinde’s earlier words. A taunt disguised as unshaking faith in her abilities, just scornful enough to make her stomach tighten. “So be a good girl and wait your turn.”
“Clori,” Navia redirected her begging to the woman above her, so sickeningly sweet that Clorinde could practically taste it dissolving on her tongue like one of her sugar-packed macarons. Navia rocked her hips against the mattress in a fit of need, reaching around blindly in the bedsheets until she found Clorinde’s forearms and snaked her fingers around them.
Clorinde shuddered as Navia gave her a squeeze of encouragement, motivating her to put all that bitter training to good use so that she could finally let Navia experience the same addicting push and pull that currently had Clorinde wrapped around your finger. “C’mon, baby. Won’t you move these pretty hips for me? Please? I need it so bad, I might lose my mind.”
“Look how cute she is like this,” you whispered in Clorinde’s ear. “Are you really gonna disappoint her? Make her cry ‘cause you can’t fuck her right?”
A weak sound erupted in Clorinde’s throat. Her ears burned red-hot; with humiliation, and with a fresh wave of arousal that she could never openly admit erupted within her whenever you spoke to her that way. To make matters worse, Navia was giving her a dispirited look from below, like she’d already long-accepted her fate, like she knew deep down that Clorinde wouldn’t be able to do it because she was too caught up in her own pleasure to carry out a task so simple. Something so selfishly unlike her.
Clorinde bunched her fists in the crumpled sheets to anchor herself, forearms flexing under Navia’s needy hands as she pulled her hips back with a shaky inhale and jerked forward—clumsy, messy, a disgrace to the sharp precision she carried moved with throughout her daily life. The mental chastisement she gave herself for such a sloppy display was quickly shut down by Navia’s immediate sigh of relief, head falling back, honey-blonde curls spilling on the pillows and pale blue nails sinking into Clorinde’s reddening flesh.
“There we go.” Your proud voice eased some of the tension in Clorinde’s body, loosening the tight seal of her lips enough to let a feather-light moan slip out when your silicone rolled against her sweet spot as a reward. The sound was gone as soon as it came, a faint rustle in the woods so different from Navia’s impassioned gasps and dramatic whines over every little touch. “Just like that, baby. I want you to make her cum for me.”
She clenched her jaw, only managing a strained nod when no response seemed to form on her tongue. Verbal expression had never exactly been her forte, anyway, especially when stuffed full of you and buried deep inside Navia like some kind of wonderfully cruel trap designed to make a fool of her.
“Yes,” Navia breathed as Clorinde repeated the action. It was another weak, erratic stroke, but she was so grateful for even the slightest hint of stimulation that she couldn’t bring herself to care. “Yes, my love. Don’t—ah—stop. M-more, more.”
Just as Clorinde at last began to build up a semi-stable pace, you quickened yours, and she wasn’t sure whether it was gratitude or dismay that burst to life in her core.
“You hear that? She wants more,” you drawled. “Keep it up, okay, baby? Don’t let her down.”
Your mischief was practically tangible, tickling her eardrums like chimes of laughter. Sure enough, you pushed your strap flush against that bundle of nerves deep inside of her just as you grabbed a handful of her bouncing chest. She was soft and heavy in the palm of your hand, and as her flesh spilled out between your fingers, you could feel her heartbeat pulsing beneath it, giving away just how much of a wreck she really was. More like captured prey than the hunter she truly was.
Clorinde stumbled over a moan that you were certain would’ve been pure heaven if only she’d stop stifling herself, head falling forward when you rolled one of her nipples between your fingers for good measure.
Hips stuttering with less and less control, Clorinde jerked into Navia far more forcefully than she’d intended, earning a sweet gasp from the woman below that was cut short just as soon when she realized that Clorinde had gone still in that position, once again too taken by the delightful twist and stretch in her core to focus on completing her thrusts. Navia had to stop herself from clawing at the younger woman’s arms to draw her attention back to her hungry insides, already mourning the quickly dissipating ball of pressure that Clorinde’s tentative strokes had built up.
“No, no, no. Clorinde, baby, please,” she protested, head tossing from side to side. “Don’t stop, I’m begging you.”
Though Clorinde would redden and turn away at the mere suggestion of it, the fact was that she looked so cute like this. That ever-stoic expression of hers now painted with a desperation that softened all her stern edges, eyebrows knitted together and lipstick smudged at the corner of her mouth from all her efforts to force back the noises that were getting harder to contain.
But in Navia’s lust-clouded mind, she couldn’t fully appreciate what a delectable mess the woman above her had become like you could, not when she was such a mess herself. All she could think about were the precious, fleeting vibrations that passed from your body to Clorinde’s, and at last, to her own when you snapped your hips forward. Every ripple of pleasure that wracked Clorinde’s senses, Navia could only get the remaining scraps of.
“You were doing so well, Clori. What happened to our champion?” You squeezed gently at her chest with each hand, rhythmic movements meant to encourage her, but all they served to do was mold her like dough in your palms. Unable to hold herself up anymore, she slumped forward to all but collapse against Navia, sandwiching your hand between the plushness of both her chest and Navia’s as they pressed together.
“I-I’m sorry.” Even when muffled by Navia’s skin, the tremble was evident as she spoke, an unmistakable strike of lightning across the perpetually calm night sky of her voice. “I…”
I can’t. She bit back the admission, mustering just enough self-control to not utter words that would no doubt taste more bitter on her tongue than any defeat in the Court of Law. “I may be nearing my…my limit. I’m sorry.”
Despite Navia being denied her own bliss to the point of near tears, she still found it in her to rest her hand on the younger woman’s head with a soothing hum. The tips of Clorinde’s ears were burning red, now, hot humiliation coursing through her veins in place of blood.
As Navia combed through that pale blue streak of hair that had draped over her chest like a ribbon, she lifted her gaze longingly back up to you, all blue starlight and golden lashes. And if her perfectly pitiful expression hadn’t been irresistible enough to sway you, she made sure to top it off with the sweet cream of her voice.
“You’re not gonna leave me like this, are you, my love?” she pouted, thick thighs spreading beneath Clorinde’s body to give you better access to the dripping wet parts of her, ripe for the taking after being tormented by empty promises of pleasure for so long. “I’ve been so good, haven’t I? Been on my best behavior even though Clorinde here obviously wants me to die of neglect.”
Clorinde tried to mumble something into Navia’s shoulder in her defense, only for it to taper off into a strained hiccup that did more to harm her cause than help it.
You pretended to mull it over, though you had absolutely no plans to have the night ending without both of them writhing beneath you. Navia batted her eyelashes at you, delicate wisps of sunlight filtering through Clorinde’s violet shadow, warm enough to melt away any resistance you might’ve had.
“Greedy. You’re both so greedy,” you clicked your tongue, but your hand was already sliding down from where it was wedged under Clorinde’s chest, tracing the curve of Navia’s stomach until you found those soft, slick folds. “What am I gonna do with you?”
Navia’s lip quirked. “Make me feel good?”
Your touch wandered down to where Clorinde’s strap-on was stretching her out, scooping up some of her essence that had coated the plastic and smearing it over the pads of your fingers. Before your thumb had even fully pressed against her clit, Navia let out a cry of pure relief, hips shooting up as best as they could under Clorinde’s weight.
“Yes,” she breathed. “Yes, that’s perfect, cherie. Right there.”
“She’s soaking wet for you, and this is how you treat her?” you chided Clorinde softly, slowing down the glide of your hips to put extra focus on the poor bud throbbing beneath your fingers. “Clorinde’s so mean, isn’t she, Navia?”
“So, so mean.” Navia’s eyes squeezed shut, nodding frantically like every touch to her aching clit sent an electric shock through her system and letting out a mewl so grateful that Clorinde couldn’t even feel any indignation over her agreeing with you so readily. Instead, Clorinde pursed her lips against Navia’s chest, pressing apologetic kisses to her flushed skin; the only consolation she could offer anymore.
“I’ll take care of you, baby. I’ll take care of everything.”
You admired how Clorinde’s spine arched as she met the rock of your hips in earnest, a beautiful dip that you stroked with your free hand, relishing in the shudder that rippled down her frame. Now that Navia was letting out a chorus of noises loud enough for the both of them, Clorinde allowed herself a bit more leniency as well, soft, breathy moans rising in her throat with less and less restraint each time your body pressed flush against hers.
“This is how you’re supposed to do it, Clori,” you murmured. “See? Look how good I’m making her feel.”
Clorinde made the mistake of peering up from where her face had been buried in Navia’s chest, rings of violet locking on a sight that stole the air from her lungs. Navia’s head was tossed to the side, cheeks dusted pink against her milky skin; strawberries and cream, she found herself thinking. When your thumb circled around the pretty pink pearl of Navia’s clit, her mouth fell open with a gasp so intense, you would think she’d never been touched before.
Clorinde’s insides churned, with arousal, and with the burning guilt that told her she should’ve been the one who was capable of twisting Navia’s features into all kinds of pretty expressions like that rather than forcing you to do all the work. Forcing you to focus on someone as hopeless as her while Navia was left behind, having to beg for attention that should’ve been given to her as naturally as breathing.
Eyes squeezing shut, Navia’s hands let go of the sheets to reach out blindly, desperate for as much physical contact as she could get after being denied so long. One of her arms slung around Clorinde’s neck, pulling the woman into a messy, uncoordinated kiss, while her other hand found yours, lacing your fingers together in an iron grip as you rubbed agonizingly steady circles into her clit.
“Mmm, yes,” she slurred against Clorinde’s lips, thick with all the bottled lust that finally came pouring out of her. “Yes, yes, yes. Love it. Thank you, thank you. Don’t stop, baby, please.”
You stroked the back of Navia’s hand so gently in contrast to how your hips pistoned into Clorinde. She was whimpering low in her throat now, not a shred of pride remaining as you worked her from behind with Navia comforting her from below.
“No more stopping, my love,” you promised, a teasing edge to your voice that prickled the back of Clorinde’s neck like thorns grazing her skin in the undergrowth of a hunt. “Look at that, Clori, you ignored our baby so bad that she can’t even believe she gets to cum. Aren't you gonna apologize?”
Navia looked far too deep in her own bliss to register anything but the slick press of your thumb and the frantic heat of Clorinde’s mouth against hers, but even so, Clorinde felt compelled to obey you—to soothe her own conscience, if nothing else.
“N-Navia,” she stammered, raspy and broken, like she may very well crumble altogether if you and Navia chose not to forgive her dishonorable performance. “I’m sorry. I’ll, mmph, I’ll make it up to you. Make it up to both of you.”
You let her off easy, well aware that the matter extended far beyond just sensual teasing in Clorinde’s hyper-disciplined mind. Knowing her, she’d be far harder on herself than any “lesson” you could pretend to teach her.
“All you have to do is let go for us,” you soothed her. “Let Navia watch you fall apart, pretty girl. Make it worth it for her.”
Goosebumps rose on Clorinde’s nape where your words danced over her skin, one final command to send her over the edge. She went stiff, muscles taut and shoulders jolting as she came apart on your strap, juices dribbling out of her to coat the plastic and moans spilling from her mouth into Navia’s—for once, so unrestrained—to the point where you could hear those low, primal vocalizations even with Navia’s lips greedily swallowing them up.
She was quick to follow, just as easily wound up by Clorinde’s pleasure as she was by her own. Plush skin melded into Clorinde’s as Navia raised her hips up off the mattress, practically grinding into your hand with quick, high-pitched little gasps and whimpers. As with everything else, she put on a show for you, big and bright and so expressive compared to the shy, subdued manner in which Clorinde came undone.
“So pretty, you’re sooo cute Clori,” she gushed, her kisses growing sloppier and sloppier until she was more or less pecking mindlessly around the other woman’s mouth. If her tear-dotted eyes hadn’t been gazing up at you so intently, you may not have even realized that she’d redirected her babbling to you. “M feeling good, too. You’re gonna make me crazy, my love. Please, I want it. Touch me more. Want it.”
You hummed softly in reply, not daring to speak when your ears were feasting on the symphony of sounds Navia was making for you. She all but sobbed when you slid your thumb under the hood of her clit to fulfill her request, making it throb so wildly you’d think that it was crying out for release, too.
Blue eyes snapped open, glistening with tears that bejeweled her her golden lashes. The pressure of Clorinde’s body grinding back against you and the sight of Navia’s pretty face lighting up with ecstasy were enough to make that tight coil in your stomach snap wonderfully, sending trickles of slick down your thighs. Navia’s sounds eclipsed yours and Clorinde’s as she trembled in the sheets, blue nails gripping any skin he could get her hands on and thighs squeezing around you like a vice.
You panted against Clorinde’s shoulder, skin dewy and muscles sore, but the adrenaline rush had yet to ebb for you even as both women came down from the highs you’d brought them to. A low, pleasant hum rose in Clorinde’s throat as you kissed up her neck, and, to your surprise, she turned her pink cheek aside to meet your lips with hers. Fleeting, shy, but enough for you to relish in both the taste of her lipstick and Navia’s.
Unlike the afterglow that you could practically feel radiating off of Navia’s sun-kissed skin, Clorinde’s inhibitions hardened around her again almost instantly, an armored crab retreating into its shell. Now that the flow of endorphins wasn’t clouding her judgement, you could tell that the shame was gnawing away at her even more fiercely than before, painting her face red as though she’d been sunburnt by Navia’s light.
“Thank you…my love,” she muttered against your lips, unable to hold your stare without feeling her walls squeeze all over again. “We were a handful this time, weren’t we? How can I make it up to you?”
“You could make us some coffee,” Navia chimed in from below, eyes twinkling. “Since you’re such a pro at it these days.”
Clorinde huffed in a manner that only you and Navia ever had the privilege of bearing witness to, half-vexed, half-shy. “You’re so quick to make demands when you didn’t even do any of the work.”
Navia shot you a pleading look at that, a silent roll of persuasion to get you to back her up. “Do you have any idea how hard it was to watch the two of you having all the fun while I lay here tossed out like an overcooked macaroon? I’m exhausted.”
“Hmm. Macarons sound nice,” you commented, flopping down next to Navia on the mattress with equal dramatic flair. She bit her lip in a panic, and you didn’t miss the uncharacteristically petty smirk that tugged at Clorinde’s mouth while watching Navia accidentally talk herself into hours of baking. “But I don’t need sugar or coffee to recharge right now.”
While Navia wasted no time nestling into you with a content (and relieved) giggle, Clorinde hesitated, eyeing you with a level of guilt that you made a mental note to readdress later. You patted the space next to you on the bed, and, reluctantly, she compromised by settling down on her side, propped up by one arm as if prepared to push herself back up to service you if you so much as hinted at it.
In truth, the last thing you needed was a pick-me-up. Every nerve in your body was still buzzing with lightning right down your fingertips, high off the exhilaration of watching not only Clorinde, but Navia melt into a puddle at your hands. You could’ve done it again and again with no regard for your personal relief. Unfortunately, Navia and Clorinde were nowhere near as greedy as you liked to pretend they were.
It was only when the two of them curled up next to you, wrapping you in a blanket of plush skin and body heat and murmuring drowsy affections in your ears that you at last allowed yourself to melt alongside them.
round two! ꨄ sun and moon
pairing: dehya/reader/candace
content: dom!reader, switch!candace, sub!dehya, oral (dehya & candace rec), reader sits on dehya's back while she does pushups, alcohol! (dehya is a little tipsy but still very much lucid), petnames, facesitting, praise, candace and reader spoiling dehya <3
“Sixteen.”
Dehya grunted despite her best efforts to restrain it, wobbly elbows barely managing to straighten to completion, this time. A laughable performance in comparison to the records she’d set in the past with the enthused cheers of her brigade always inflating her ego just enough to push herself past her limits. When sandwiched between you and Candace, however, all of that prestige she’d earned among her fellow Eremites was about as stable as a tumbleweed being tossed around by the winds of the Hypostyle.
“Seventeen,” you called out.
Her brain was fuzzy at its edges, shoulders heavy with the added weight of you perched atop her back like a Rishboland Tiger lounging in a tree, surveying the lush terrain for prey. She could swear up and down that the alcohol she’d downed earlier was affecting her performance, but that wasn’t the real reason why every push-up posed such an unusual challenge for her, tonight. The entirety of The Blazing Beasts could’ve been gathered around to witness her display of strength, gleefully counting each push-up, placing bets on how far she could go and hollering at her in drunken mirth, and it still wouldn’t have had quite the same impact on her as you and Candace’s presence. Quiet, gentle attention that was somehow so unbearably distracting.
Mustering all of her willpower, she pushed herself off the ground once again in a movement that—under normal circumstances—came so effortlessly to her she didn’t even have to think about it. But under the watchful pairs of eyes that were sizing her up, her biceps had gone soft and pliant, reduced to rose custard that you and Candace looked about ready to eat up.
Still, she persisted, for the very simple reason that she would sooner bury her head in the sand than embarrass herself in front of you two; especially after the mild bragging fest that had ensued after she’d emerged victorious in every arm-wrestling match she’d been challenged to back at the tavern, by ordinary folk and her fellow Eremites alike. Though, in her defense, it was mostly The Blazing Beasts who’d made such a show of flaunting her strength while Dehya feigned nonchalance on the sidelines, secretly allowing herself to bask in it a bit more than usual courtesy of the alcohol filling her with liquid confidence.
Core muscles clenching, she lifted your body weight along with hers, this time, with flawless form.
You whistled proudly, and something stirred in her chest—adrenaline igniting like flint against steel that suddenly had her invigorated enough to run laps around the village with both you and Candace piled on her back.
“Eighteen.” Candace’s voice was a gentle lap of water at her senses, while yours was an energizing surge of warmth, each one taking turns to call out the next number.
Dehya’s face, already dusted with a faint flush thanks to the buzz of intoxication in her system, began to deepen in shade. Not just from the strain of her workout, but because of the deal you and Candace had made with her prior to it. The echoes of your promise lingered in the back of her mind with every pushup, no matter how badly she tried to pretend she was above something so desperate; a taunt and an incentive, all at once.
“She’s doing so well, isn’t she?” Candace commented, tilting Dehya’s chin up to lock those icy blue eyes with her pools of warm amber and calm cerulean. In the low light of Candace’s bedroom, Dehya’s catlike pupils had gone wide, glassy from the alcohol’s influence like the crystal clear surface of the oasis’ Amrita Pool.
Your hum of agreement sounded from above, and with a deep breath, Dehya took that as her cue to bend her elbows again, struggling to lower herself bit by bit so that she didn’t crash into the ground all at once.
“Guess she really wants that reward.” As you spoke, you stretched luxuriously atop her back without a care in the world for how it might ruin her progress.
“C-C’mon,” she huffed, praying that neither of you would notice the droplets of sweat beginning to bead at her hairline, catching the hazy glow of candlelight that burned in the dim room. “You know this is light work for me. I could do it easily, reward or not.”
“Then making it to twenty should be no problem for our mighty Flame-Mane, yeah?” you reasoned, resting your hands on her shoulders to admire the flex of her built muscles beneath your palms.
Candace, with all the gentleness of her caress, still held Dehya’s chin firmly between her fingers, giving her no choice but to maintain eye contact as she sank down into another push-up. Dark locks of her hair kissed the ground for a fleeting moment before she lifted herself back up in one fell swoop, a speed that her body would surely punish her for later. But the murmur of awe you and Candace shared when she snapped back up so effortlessly made any future soreness more than worth it.
Candace ran her thumb along Dehya’s lips, hesitating to continue counting for just long enough to have Dehya fighting back a faint, impatient whine.
The corner of her mouth curled up with amusement. “Nineteen.”
Dehya let out a shaky exhale, warm breath fanning out over Candace’s palm. Calloused yet soft, holding her with all the steadiness she carried her spear and all the tenderness she treated the children of Aaru Village. With an approving smile, her hand slid higher to cup the reddened apple of Dehya’s cheek, delighted by the heat emitting from it.
“That’s my girl. Just one more to go,” you urged her from above, voice dripping down her skin like rosewater, and twice as sweet. “I know you can do it, baby.”
Gritting her teeth, she tightened up her abdomen and pushed off the carpet one final time, spurred on by your encouragement that had seized her mind even more effectively than the alcohol. Her elbows straightened to perfection, lungs puffed full of air as the relief of her final pushup crashed over her. Despite that, she couldn’t help the strange disappointment she felt when you rolled off of her back, lightening her load, but taking the warm press of your body with you and leaving her aching for more.
You settled back on the carpet, admiring the dips and curves of her form just a bit longer before sliding your hand under the golden tassel that draped over her spine and giving her a pat to signal that she could relax.
“Twenty,” you said at last.
Her head all but collapsed into Candace’s waiting lap, plush thighs greeting her with all the comfort of her resting camp after a long day of trekking through endless dunes. Dehya’s hair splayed out in all directions across Candace’s legs and down to the carpet, threads of gold streaking those thick, silky dark waves. The mane of a lioness, indeed.
“So strong,” you marveled. “And you barely even broke a sweat. You make it look so easy, baby.”
“I bet we could have her do ten more without any trouble, too. Should we test how long she can really hold out?” Candace mused, a mischief so rare creeping into her voice that it made Dehya perk up in alarm.
Before you could get any ideas, she rolled over onto her back with the speed of someone sober and settled her head back into the pillow of Candace’s lap, smooth, dark skin carrying the scents of fragrant fruit powder and crisp, evening desert air. “H-hah. Hey now, Candace. That kinda talk doesn’t suit you.”
She’d hoped to mask her panic over the suggestion, but judging by the amused looks on you and Candace’s faces, it must’ve been read loud and clear. She was already straightforward on a normal basis, but now, with her inhibitions soaked in wine, she’d become adorably transparent.
You ran your hands up the expanse of Dehya’s stomach with a giggle, soft tan flesh rising and falling under your touch even faster than when she’d been exerting herself. The alcohol coursing through her veins coupled with that growing pit of arousal in her core had her running so hot, all planes of addictively warm, tan skin that tightened into the outline of defined abs every time she sucked in another sharp breath.
“Don’t worry, baby, we’re gonna treat you so good for this,” you promised. “You’ve earned it.”
Dehya’s half-lidded eyes watched you in a daze as your fingers danced up the straps coiled tight around her thighs and unbuttoned her shorts. When your fingers began to slink below her waistband, the sight alone was enough to fluster her. Suddenly her eyes were flickering up to Candace instead, only for it to make matters worse when she found the woman gazing down at her with such visible fondness, thick eyelashes fanning out to look more striking than ever from this angle. Now that Dehya wasn’t pouring all of her energy into performing push-ups, she let the dizziness take over a little more, head spinning delightfully under you and Candace’s combined touches.
“You’re both s’ beautiful,” she murmured. It slipped out before she had the chance to stop herself, but any embarrassment she might’ve felt was nothing compared to the giddy glow that flooded her chest when you and Candace broke out into shared laughter, as if she were a pet who had done something unintentionally adorable.
“Sweet girl,” you cooed. “I wonder if you can put that silver tongue to good use.”
Candace voiced her agreement, reaching down to brush strands of brown and gold from Dehya’s wonderstruck eyes. “A pretty talker with an even prettier face, hm?”
Dehya squirmed around, clearly basking in the shower of your praises while simultaneously hoping to hide the fact that she was. “Take care not to mess up my makeup this time, then,” she huffed, just short of shy. “Since you like seein’ me all dolled up.”
“Not our fault if you start crying,” you grinned.
It sounded like nothing more than a playful jab, but the glint in your eyes was evident enough for even her blurry vision to catch. You knew as well as she did that tears weren’t entirely out of the question, especially when her grip on her emotions was far weaker than usual, tonight. She always made sure to watch her alcohol intake—especially when Candace was around to scrutinize her like a disapproving guardian angel—but as she watched you dip your head between her bare thighs at last, she felt less grounded than ever, like she may as well have downed an entire barrel of wine at once.
Dehya pressed her lips together, wetness pooling between her legs before you’d even touched her properly. You slid one of your arms beneath her leg to prop it up on your shoulder, pressing your lips to the warm flesh of her inner thigh. It was thick and brimming with power under your mouth from years of training and carving her paths through the desert sands, but the further you inched up towards that tantalizing spot between her legs, the more that lean muscle softened out into something delicate enough to devour, plush skin that practically melted in your mouth like candied ajilenakh nuts with every wet kiss.
Unintentionally, her hips canted up just hard enough to have you digging your nails into her thighs to steady her. A raspy apology rose in her throat, barely coherent when you forced her hips down hard enough to make her breath stutter.
Thankfully, you seemed to get the message. “You worked so hard for us, huh? Ready for your reward, baby?”
Dehya swallowed, hazy eyes darting up to Candace, then back to where your face was nestled between her legs, a view that, embarrassingly enough, had throat drying up again for a good few seconds before she could respond.
“Y’know ‘m not one to shy away from compensation,” she joked weakly.
Maybe not compensation, but she was certainly growing meek with your breath fanning out over her most intimate spots, a promising mist of what your mouth had to offer. Heart leaping in anticipation, you nosed your way into the meeting of her thighs at last, radiating heat and already dripping so eagerly for you; the nectar of a freshly opened henna berry just waiting to be lapped up. And you indulged in her as if she were the sweetest you’d ever picked.
Dehya’s thighs tensed the moment she felt your lips brushing over her folds, and a sharp gasp ripped from her throat as your tongue darted out to give her a greeting lick, a hot wet cushion that was as relieving as it was exhilarating. You savored her essence for a moment, letting it rest and spread on your tastebuds for just long enough to earn another cute, urgent sound from her.
Candace ran her fingers through Dehya’s hair as if soothing a fussy cat, indigo-painted nails threading through her locks and scratching tenderly at her scalp. She’d never quite gotten used to feeling of nails other than the sharp claws of her own armor braiding her hair in the morning, and each affectionate brush was like being pulled under the influence of a spell, nipping away at her sharp senses until she felt as though all the edges she’d spent years refining had gone soft.
You allowed yourself another taste before Dehya could get too restless, tongue darting out to lick a wet stripe from her entrance to the curve beneath her clit, lasting longer than before, but still gone far too soon for her liking. Dehya jolted when you pulled away again, hips jerking forward to try and follow the heat of your mouth on instinct.
When you chuckled at her, she let out a low whine, unconcerned with keeping up appearances any longer. It had been a losing game from the start anyway, when you and Candace were intimately familiar with this side of her—most of the time, without a drop of alcohol required to get her spread out for you to toy with like this.
“Needy little thing, aren’t you?” you mumbled between slow, deliberate licks, delighting in how obviously she throbbed when you pressed a chaste little kiss to her bud.
“More like a kitten than a lioness,” Candace cooed.
Dehya’s ears burned hot. Praise, scorn, they all sounded the same to her when spoken in those dulcet tones. She couldn’t even find it in her to pretend to be anything less than giddy as the two of you fawned over her, petting and squeezing and marveling at her body like she was the most brilliant cut of crimson Trishiraite you’d ever come across. Not just sharp angles and fierce, unbreakable rock, but smooth, beautiful, precious. Everything she longed for when the ache from carrying her greatsword became too much.
Grabbing hungry handfuls of her thighs, you pulled her closer and flattened your tongue against her cunt in full, letting your saliva mix with her wetness to form a sinful cocktail that she could feel dripping down her skin. It tickled her nerve endings and coated her inner thighs with a pretty sheen that made her look utterly delectable, and you made sure not waste a single drop, making quick work of lapping up the rivulets that escaped your lips like you’d been deprived of anything to drink for days.
“Fuck,” she breathed. “O-oh, please.”
With your mouth occupied, Candace stepped in, swooping Dehya’s bangs gently to the side to help cool her burning face. “Is she making you feel good, Dehya?”
Ice-blue eyes squeezed shut, a choked sound spilling from her mouth as you gave up entirely on teasing her and began licking with more vigor, tensing the muscle of your tongue to swirl dizzying patterns into her wet heat. Dehya could barely manage a frantic nod in reply to Candace as her hands flew to grasp at your head, unsure whether she was trying to pull you even deeper into her, or anchor herself before the pleasure swept her away altogether.
“Yeah, mmm, s’good,” she slurred. “I need—ah—needed this real bad. More, baby, please.”
“Oh? Did you hear that, my love?” Candace beckoned your attention, and the smile you caught on her face when you glanced up at her was so tender, it made your heart beat a little faster. To know that you were being watched by such an angelic face while drowning yours in filth. “She wants more already.”
You purred into Dehya’s folds, and the vibration jolted through her senses like heat lightning crackling across the arid desert sky. Her back arched as your voice rumbled through her senses, stomach muscles contracting to form a gorgeous ridge, like stepping stones leading up to where her chest threatened to spill out from the confines of her loosened top.
Unable to help yourself, you slid your palms up from her thighs to drag your nails over her hipbones, leaving trails that quickly reddened over her tan skin as you raked up the inviting curve of her stomach. A surprised mewl formed in Dehya’s throat, one that you almost missed when the meat of her thighs squeezed down on your ears the instant your hands weren’t there to hold them apart anymore.
You and Candace shared a giggle again, and though you didn’t mind being trapped between her warm muscles with your mouth latched on to the pulsing blossom of her cunt, you forced yourself to pry them apart again so you could angle your head to get a taste of every last inch of her.
“Is this really the same girl who was beating all those Eremites in arm wrestling matches an hour ago?” Candace crooned.
You weren’t sure which thrilled you more, that delicious, condescending edge that her syrupy-sweet voice had crystallized into, or the adorable grumble that left Dehya’s lips in protest, a half-hearted attempt at defending herself that was made all the less convincing with how she began to squirm under all the hands roaming over her body.
“Wonder what they’d all think seeing her like this,” you grinned, peering up at Dehya’s panting face, cheeks dusted like she’d applied a fresh layer of blush and kohl beginning to smudge around her eyes. “Poor baby’s had one too many to drink. Might as well take care of her ‘til she can think again.”
Dehya tried again to stammer out an objection, to insist that a couple of pints was laughable for someone of her tolerance, but the plush ring of your lips wrapped directly around her clit mid-sentence, morphing what she’d planned to say into a shuddering moan. Her head collapsed to the side, right into the cradle of Candace’s gentle palm like hot iron falling into a soothing pool of water. erupting into a cloud of steam that only fogged her brain up even further.
You dove your tongue into her core, feeling her walls clench around you in a frenzy before pulling back out with a fresh glaze of wetness spilling down your chin. “Messy, messy girl,” you mumbled, savoring every bit of her essence with loud laps that had even Candace’s spine tingling. “Does it make you this wet to show off for us?”
“Hah. No fair. Y-you,” she sank her teeth into her lower lip, determined not to trip over her words this time. “Y’told me to. Don’t play dirty.”
“Seems that playing dirty is exactly what you want us to do,” Candace murmured, still wrapped in that distinct coating of sweetness that effectively quelled Dehya’s will to argue back. “Look at that. You’ve completely soaked her face with your mess.”
Dehya made a little grunt of frustration, but her hips did her no favors as they chased after the slick of your mouth each time you pulled away. Your scalp began to sting from the claws of her gauntlet grazing it, practically kneading at your head and sending delightful little pulses all throughout your nerve-endings. Dehya knew her own strength, and she was always acutely conscious of it when handling you and Candace; that was precisely why getting her like this—drunk on both wine and pleasure to the point where her instincts started to take over—gratified you like nothing else.
The more you indulged in the juices bathing your tongue, the more she spilled out for you like a fresh spring. Greedily, you pressed your thumbs against her lips to spread them just wide enough for her to choke out your name, giving you a full view of how her walls pulsed for you before you dragged your tongue along every soft crevice and fold that you hadn’t been able to reach before.
“Fuck, f-fuck, baby. You’re gonna make me…mmph! Wait, Candace.” Amidst her drunken babbling, Dehya rasped out for the woman above her suddenly, tinged with a whine that was impossible to resist, even for someone of Candace’s resolve. “C…Candace…feel good”
“I know, my love. I know,” she whispered back, brushing through the mane of gold and brown spread out in her lap as if admiring hand-woven fabrics on display at the market. “She’s treating you so well, just like you deserve. Are you gonna cum for us?”
“Mmm, y-yeah. No, I mean…‘s not…I-I mean. Want you to feel good too.”
You rumbled out a song of approval, mouth still suctioned around her clit and making her gasp out with more force than she ever gave her enemies the satisfaction of hearing in the heat of battle. “Good girl,” you praised, pulling off of her with a pleased pop of your lips, as if her swollen bud were your favorite flavor of yalda candy. “How cute is she, Candace? She’s barely in her right mind and still thinking of you. Why don’t you let her make you feel good?”
Candace took her lower lip into her mouth, completely taken aback by the spotlight being turned on her in the blink of an eye. “I…yes, but who will look after Dehya?”
“She seems perfectly content to me,” you pointed out, resting your cheek on the flesh of her thigh and trying not to smirk when it earned another impatient huff from the woman in question. Then—with a trace of mischief—you added, “Unless you don’t trust me to take care of her?”
A flicker of embarrassment crossed over Candace’s face, no doubt catching on to your implication of how overprotective she could be when it came to—well, anything she was sworn to protect—but Dehya especially. Even when armed with the blessing of Shesepankh and a claymore that could shatter bones, Candace was always a few steps away from Dehya like the moon reflecting the sun’s light, shield and spear in hand should the lioness ever need an extra pair of fangs.
“Please,” Dehya chimed in. “C’mere Candace, please? Wanna taste you, get all the leftover wine out my mouth.”
“Oh?” Candace replied flatly, but it wasn’t lost on you how the translucent fabric adorning her thighs rubbed together with a very obvious desire. “With how eagerly you were swallowing down each cup, I’m certain you were quite fond of its flavor.”
“Like yours more.”
Slurred, cheeky, but irresistibly charming. Candace’s eyes darted away at that, no response coming to her other than a quiet, flustered cough.
“Let’s give our pretty girl what she wants,” you urged her gently. “We promised to spoil her, yeah?”
There was an adorable sort of disconnect written all over her face, made all the more pleasing by how rare it was for the woman so many saw as the village’s reliable guardian. It made you soften—how utterly perplexed Candace was, how out of her element she became by the idea of her own needs being met, for once.
“Plus,” you drawled. “You’d make for a real pretty view for me.”
This time, her demeanor crumbled fully, a deep tinge painting her skin reminiscent of the brilliant red that streaked across the desert sky when the sun and moon crossed paths at dusk. Despite the plethora of excuses Candace always seemed to have prepared for moments like these, your very intentional phrasing had worked like a charm. If you could convince her it was all for Dehya’s sake, all to fulfill your wishes, then you could trick her into allowing herself some leniency, even if for just one night.
“You two…” She shook her head, intending for her sigh to sound exasperated, but it came out notably winded instead, like the very prospect of receiving pleasure already had her short of breath. “You’re trouble.”
Dehya’s eyes gleamed, the sopping wet mess of her own cunt forgotten for a moment as Candace took the forefront of her muddled mind. The two of you watched, mesmerized, as she hesitantly slipped her shorts and underwear off to expose her bare form, nothing but her brilliant gold ornaments and silver moonlight adorning her dark skin. Her headpiece could have passed for a halo with the way the dancing candle flames illuminated it, a fitting visual for her, you mused.
“Can’t believe you were trying to hide all this from us,” you marveled. “You’d better treat her right, okay, Dehya?”
She didn’t need to be told twice—or, even once, for that matter. Lips reddened with gloss and wine parted before the woman above her had even spread her legs, and you could’ve sworn you heard Candace’s inhale catch in her throat. Unlike Dehya, you didn’t have the excuse of alcohol emboldening you, but you admired Candace’s body shamelessly all the same, eyes raking over the full curve of her chest as her top came loose and the dip in her waist that widened into smooth hips as she at last came to hover above Dehya’s waiting mouth.
“Gonna make her feel good,” Dehya barely mumbled out the promise before lifting her head to close the distance between her and Candace’s heat. Just one drag of her tongue had Candace gritting her teeth, and when one of Dehya’s strong arms slipped from your head to pull her further down, you knew that she was in good hands.
You buried your face back between Dehya’s thighs as encouragement, rubbing dizzying circles into her flesh with your thumbs as you made quick work of gathering up the thick pool of arousal that had seeped out of her in the short time you’d pulled away. Her clit throbbed like a heartbeat under your tongue when you teased the skin around it, begging you not to leave her neglected again, and when you enveloped it completely with your mouth, you could hear Dehya’s sharp moan clear as day, even with her nestled so deep into Candace that she may very well not be able to breathe.
In contrast to how far gone Dehya was, Candace had a harder time allowing herself to slip. Every graceful slope of her body oddly stiff with abashment—arms crossed modestly over her body, hips wiggling with the reflexive urge to pull away from something so hedonistic, and cascading locks of indigo purposely draped in a manner so that they covered up her chest.
As endearing as it was, how indecent she seemed to find her own pursuit of pleasure, you made it your personal mission to have her every bit as blissed out as Dehya. You paused your rhythmic suckling around her clit to catch her attention, draping your hand over the one that was still tangled in your hair and guiding her to move it higher.
“S’ no good. She’s still holding out on us,” you frowned, a slippery curve of your lips that Dehya could feel molding against her sensitive skin. “C’mon Dehya, work a little harder, baby. Make her let go.”
Obediently, Dehya’s other hand was on Candace in an instant, fingers curling around her hips to physically pull her out of her own head and down against Dehya’s with not a single inch of space left between them. Candace’s high-pitched moan had you cursing every second you’d spent letting her stand by without a drop of enjoyment for herself, regardless of how much it fulfilled her simply to watch. You could tell that even she was shocked by her own reaction, one palm flying up to clasp over her mouth, while the other fell to grasp at Dehya, feeling around for something to steady herself with before settling for a handful of her chest.
The bedroom was full of wet smacking sounds and moans that increased by the second, Dehya’s needy, drunken ones mixing with Candace’s sickeningly sweet ones to form a symphony that, coupled with the view of Candace writhing on Dehya’s mouth, could’ve been enough to get you off without a single touch. Your underwear was distractingly damp against your skin, every bit as sticky and hot as the pools and pools of nectar Dehya filled your mouth with.
“Good girl, Dehya, ah. You’re too…t-too good at this,” Candace panted, blue nails digging into her own cheek as she tried desperately to suppress the indecent noises rising in her throat.
“M-mmm. Taste amazin’, feel amazin’,” she drooled out between licks, borderline incoherent, but still enough to have Candace’s thighs squeezing around her head. “S’good. More, wanna taste all of you.”
The leg that you had propped up on your shoulder was practically thrashing by now, and when Dehya’s calf curled weakly around your shoulders in an uncoordinated attempt to pull you closer to her, you knew that she was nearing her limit. It was exactly how you liked her; pampered to a degree where her muscles were just an accessory, no need for strength or force, allowing you to mold her body in whichever way you saw fit.
Candace lurched forward, arms beginning to tremble and eyes snapping open to search for you in a panic. It gave you a bit of a power rush, knowing what she was seeking from you.
“It’s too much, my love. I’m not…ah! Not used to—” Her teeth sank into her swollen bottom limp mid-warning, unable to fight back another gasp that Dehya’s tongue was so hellbent on coaxing out of her. “I’m afraid I might…”
This time, she trailed off on her own accord, gold and blue irises darting away from you in shame. Dehya nearly keened when you pulled off of her just seconds before she came undone, hips bucking wildly when you tried to soothe her wriggling with a long, languid lick.
“It’s okay, baby.” As gently as you could, you reached out to rest your hand over Candace’s where it clung to Dehya’s chest for purchase. “See how hard Dehya’s trying to make you feel good? Let it all out for us. I wanna see her pretty face covered in your cum.”
Candace’s face heated up furiously at that, head darting away to press her flushed cheek into her shoulder. If you hadn’t been so eager to latch your mouth back on to Dehya, you would’ve teased her for it just to get her squirming around even more on the makeshift throne of Dehya’s face.
Your words seemed to be the final push needed to send both of them over the edge, because all it took was a few sloppy strokes of your tongue around Dehya’s clit to have her creaming on it. A drawn-out moan that you hadn’t even intended to make reverberated through your throat, but it paled in comparison to the sounds bursting to life between the two women above you. You rested a palm on Dehya’s stomach as her climax had her back surging up off the carpet, feeling her lungs expand under your touch as she let out cute, shallow little pants into Candace’s heat that amplified the intensity of her high.
Candace finally gave up on covering any part of herself, now pawing helplessly at the softness of Dehya’s breasts as she tossed her head to the side, body forming an arch to match the crescents that decorated her attire as she came apart on Dehya’s mouth. Her thighs were shaking from the sheer force of the release she’d denied herself for so long, even Dehya’s firm grip on her couldn’t control the pleasure-drunk grind of her hips—a depravity she’d surely scold herself for later.
By the time Dehya’s high had ebbed, you couldn’t keep up with the wetness dripping down your chin anymore, nor could you free yourself from the way her thighs kept you trapped between them, practically tempting you to keep lapping away until she was sent into a fit of overstimulation. She and Candace had barely caught their breath before you noticed Candace’s half-lidded eyes go wide, and, with a clumsiness so unbecoming of her, she slid off of Dehya’s face to fret over her with a series of breathless questions, clearly appalled by her own lack of composure.
“Relaaax, Candace. ‘S fine, I’m fine,” Dehya puffed out a light giggle. “Just…both of you, c’mere. Please?”
You gave her thighs a squeeze, and despite her exhaustion, she jumped a bit. “Gotta free me from your clutches first, wildcat.”
With an embarrassed cough, the warm weight of Dehya’s thighs un-snaked from around your head so that you could crawl over to get a proper look at her and Candace. Between the burning skin, tousled hair, and cloudy, unfocused eyes, all three of you looked far more intoxicated than Lambard’s Tavern could ever leave you feeling.
Candace gave you a soft smile when you met her gaze, already taking it upon herself to wipe Dehya’s face clean from all her juices with a cloth from her coffee table, but not before you caught a glimpse of those pretty features of hers ruined to perfection, just like you’d hoped to see. Dehya nuzzled into your hand as you pet her head, still not through basking in you and Candace’s shared attention.
“How was your reward, pretty girl?”
“This is my reward.” She let out an airy sigh, and you might’ve brushed it off as simple flattery if you hadn’t known her any better.
The three of you could’ve remained at the tavern until sunrise, watching Dehya run through glass after glass until she collapsed unconscious into your arms, but no amount of alcohol could compare to how drunk she got on you.
round three! ꨄ︎ frost and crimson
pairing: arlecchino/reader/columbina
content: dom!reader, switch!columbina, sub!arlecchino, fingering (columbina rec.), oral (reader rec.), petplay, arle is collared & leashed, some degradation/humiliation, bondage, slight objectification, basically reader & bina bully arlecchino a bit lol
The night was shrouded in a pale haze of moonlight and illuminated amber by the hearth’s flickering glow; a clash of frost and crimson reminiscent of the pair of women sitting before you.
Fingers that were only delicate enough to belong to one pranced up the grays and whites of Arlecchino’s suit, occasionally stopping to prod at her with the hopes of eliciting some sort of reaction, only for that same calm, faintly amused expression to persist on The Knave’s face.
From where you observed them in your chair, the image of a wolf and a rabbit came to mind; only in this case, the rabbit had taken up the role of predator, toying gleefully with her meal before at last being given permission by you to tear into it.
Columbina’s nails lingered over the broach pinned to Arlecchino’s collar, tracing over its sharp edges with a quiet desire that wasn’t lost on Arlecchino. So, those scarred, lightless pupils of hers flickered up to you, relaying the question that was on Columbina's mind with a simple arch of her eyebrow.
“Go ahead, Bina,” you told her softly. “It won’t make much of a difference, though. We’re not touching her, tonight.”
“I simply wish to see,” Columbina replied.
Arlecchino remained perfectly still, breaths unwavering as Columbiina’s lithe fingers removed her death-eyed ornament and began popping open the buttons of her jacket, just low enough until her cleavage was exposed, peeking out through the black sheer of her undershirt.
“What an honor, for the Moon Goddess to find me a sight worthy of opening her eyes for.”
Behind the lace of her mask, Columbina’s lashes remained sealed shut, but the smile that played at her lips told you that she was keenly aware of every detail in the room, right down to the flames crackling to life under Arlecchino’s skin. She took the liberty of undoing a few more buttons so that Arlecchino’s suit jacket came completely loose, white cloth slipping down her toned shoulders and draping over the curve of her waist.
Still, the woman was unperturbed, jaw tilted upwards, spine straightened with a level of discipline that was almost unnerving—largely because of how it defined her capacity for cruelty just as much as her obedience.
“You seem awfully uninterested, Arlecchino,” you noted. “Somewhere else you’d rather be?”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” she replied evenly. “But I wasn’t aware that self-expression was necessary for a mere tool such as myself.”
“Tool is a bit too harsh, don’t you think?” you feigned offense, leaning forward in your chair and resting your cheek in the cradle of your palm. “We have much more fun with you than that. You’re more like a toy. Or a pet.”
Arlecchino’s eyes glinted, flint igniting against the obsidian of her irises to create a momentary spark. Not the red of danger, but the red of lust—though, in her case, they could be one and the same. Just as the words had left your mouth, Columbina’s index finger, which had been gliding absentmindedly along the dog collar she’d attached to Arlecchino's throat, slid beneath the leather and snapped it back against her skin, just forceful enough to create a dull smack.
Arlecchino hardly made a sound, but her teeth clenched just enough to make her jaw flex, as though restraining an instinctive snap of her canines. Those crimson crosses at last broke eye contact with you to fixate on the deceptively innocent face of her assailant. Even so, there was no ill-intent in Arlecchino’s gaze, no indignation, just a quiet curiosity. To see what the pair of you might do to her when she presented herself as an offering.
“Play nice, Bina,” you warned her, though it hardly read as sincere when the notes of amusement were evident in your voice. If Columbina could read between the lines as effortlessly as Arlecchino could, she may even take it as you actively encouraging her behavior.
Instead, she hummed in acknowledgement, docile as ever despite her being somewhat unsatisfied with Arlecchino’s reaction; or lack thereof. Then, as if in apology, she ran her soothing touch down Arlecchino’s arm muscles until she reached the soot-black of her hands. They were warm, buzzing with perpetual heat that reminded her of firewood that had long been burnt to charcoal on a winter night.
Columbina lifted one of Arlecchino’s ashen hands and brought it to her pale pink lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it with the very same chivalry The Knave always extended towards her.
“You’ll be a good dog, won’t you?” she whispered into her skin.
“A dog is only as obedient as their owner trains them to be.”
A vapid threat, but enough to maintain some semblance of poise, at least. You leaned forward in your seat, looking oddly pleased with Arlecchino’s response. “Let’s put those claws away, then. Just in case.”
The ribbon coiled around Columbina’s calf slipped down her skin like freshly fallen snow as she undid the bow holding it together and pulled Arlecchino’s arms behind her back. She put up no resistance as she was bound, even when Columbina purposely pressed her knee into the space between her thighs as she leaned over Arlecchino’s shoulder to tie her wrists together.
“Are you enjoying yourself, Miss Columbina?”
“I can sense your heart racing,” she commented. A non-answer typical of her, but enough for the both of you to gather that yes, she was very much enjoying herself.
Arlecchino’s mouth twitched at its corner. You knew just as well as she did that the white silk binding her arms behind her back could’ve been reduced to dust in the blink of an eye had she not been fully, unwaveringly invested in the role you’d assigned her.
“This defeats the purpose, does it not?” She lifted her gaze back to you, and the view of her from above—arms restrained, neck collared and leashed, and head tilted inquisitively in search of an answer—almost made her appear harmless. Almost like the loyal, obedient dog she was meant to embody for you, tonight. “How am I meant to please you if I’m completely bound?”
“The purpose is to see how well you can behave,” you reminded her. Cheek resting lazily in your palm as though you were watching a Korolevskiy Troupe performance of little interest, you beckoned Columbina over, legs spreading to make room for her in your lap.
She complied immediately, rising from her spot on the floor with all the grace of smoke wisps dancing in the sky, tugging on Arlecchino’s leash to drag her along towards you. Compared to the melodic chimes of her footsteps, Arlecchino followed behind in a far less elegant manner, forced to shuffle against the wooden floor on her knees with as much dignity as she could retain, head ducked and eyes obscured by a curtain of black and white hair.
They settled before you, Arlecchino kneeling between your spread legs, and Columbina floating down like petals of a Moon-Prayer Blossom to land in your lap. You rested your chin on the slender slope of her shoulder as she molded her spine against the softness of your chest, peering down at the woman at your feet together. Without needing to be told, or, perhaps acting on her own desire, Columbina wrapped the leash once around her palm and gave it a harsh tug, forcing Arlecchino to lift her head entirely.
Just as those dead eyes came into view, Columbina opened hers, a milky starlit sky meeting the fallen shadow of the crimson moon. Her lashes fluttered as she adjusted to the low, sultry lighting in the bedroom, and together, you took a moment to appreciate Arlecchino in her full glory, without any thick coats or imposing, folded arms to cover up her chest spilling from her bra beneath the torn sheer. It was a sight that few would ever dare to imagine, let alone hope to see in their lifetime, and yet all it took was a simple order from you to achieve.
Maintaining eye contact with her, you pressed your lips to Columbina’s shoulder, letting a sweet sound of approval vibrate against her skin when she tilted her head for you, locks sweeping like a dark tide to invite you to mark the expanse of her neck.
“Do you like what you see, Bina?” you asked between pecks.
She hummed absentmindedly, but her bare foot reached out to dip beneath Arlecchino’s chin, delighted when her head moved obediently along with the feather-light push of Columbina’s toes. As if examining a precious relic in the light, she tilted Arlecchino’s sharp jaw from one side to the other without a shred of resistance.
“Hmm. It’s a shame she can only watch us.”
Arlecchino’s fingers flexed in their bindings, claws itching to feel flesh beneath them.
“Would you rather take her place? You’d make a pretty pet, too, little dove.”
Columbina pondered this for a moment, her resolve ultimately waning as the warm sensation of your kisses blossomed up her throat, sealing her in place with ease. “No,” she decided, the beginnings of a smile creeping into her voice. “It’s quite refreshing, looking down at her like this.”
It was difficult for either of you to gauge whether she was taunting Arlecchino, or making an innocuous statement about how she typically loomed over most others—though, you wouldn’t be surprised if that ambiguity had been Columbina’s exact intent. Your lips imprinted a smirk into her porcelain skin. “Hear that, Arle? You’d better not disappoint her.”
Arlecchino’s throat felt oddly dry as she watched your fingers dip beneath the billowing fabric of Columbina’s dress to cup her underwear, a soft mound emitting so much warmth in comparison to the rest of her body, cooled by the waves of moonlight perpetually radiating off of her.
She opened her mouth to respond, barely clearing her throat in time to avoid a crack that would have been nothing less than damning.
“That’d be a more viable command had I been tasked with anything to begin with.”
“Watch,” you said simply.
Columbina’s breath came out shaky as you dove beneath the waistband of her undergarments at last, fingers dragging over her folds in a manner that was almost noncommittal until you reached the tiny pool of her essence that had begun to gather at her slit. Far more excited than that ethereal face of hers would ever let you know.
“You’re wet? I’ve barely even touched you, Bina.” You nibbled at her earlobe, rolling the tender flesh between your teeth and relishing in the quiet shudder of her fragile frame. “You really like having her on a leash, don’t you?”
Her half-giggle was confirmation enough, wispy and musical and morphing into a sudden gasp when you spread the slick on your fingers up to her clit, coating her with the evidence of her own arousal.
On the surface, it appeared that you were the ones putting on a show for Arlecchino, but the way your clinical gaze remained locked on her even as you toyed with Columbina’s body, the way Columbina’s eyes refused to squeeze fully shut even as that familiar, far-off look began to glaze them over, told her that she was very much the real source of entertainment here. She wasn’t sure which had her insides stirring more—the sweet sounds your hands coaxed out of Columbina, or the knowledge that she could provide this much gratification simply by kneeling before you.
“Have you thought about this often?” you teased the woman in your arms, circling under the hood of her clit just slowly enough to keep her relief limited to tiny, fleeting jolts that left her craving more. She nearly found herself pouting in frustration, but oddly enough, being denied the needs that had always been so easily fulfilled for her all her life thrilled her more than anything else could. “Seeing Arlecchino look so pathetic? Watching us like a dog begging at the dinner table while I play with you in front of her?”
Columbina’s spine jolted delightfully, a pulse of kuuvahki rippling through her veins and causing her to yank at Arlecchino’s leash especially hard. Said woman blamed the low growl she let out on how sudden the force had snaked around her throat, but you knew as well as she did that your words had fulfilled their purpose of feeding into the spark in her chest with the hopes of igniting a wildfire.
In truth, Arlecchino looked far from pathetic to a point that was admittedly impressive, but Columbina’s reaction to your taunts had been enough to make her unreadable expression falter at last. The knit of her eyebrows, however slight, made your core positively coil with satisfaction.
“You’re so cute, Bina,” you murmured, drawing out the glide of your hands just slow enough to earn a sweet, needy whimper from her. “And all mine tonight, yeah?”
Pushing the dainty fabric of her underwear to the side, you gave Arlecchino a perfect view of Columbina squeezing tight around you the instant you pushed your finger past her entrance, like her body was claiming you as hers just as you claimed her as yours. The silk of her walls wrapped around you like a pretty pink ring adorning your finger, eagerly swallowing you up all the way in one fell swoop.
Columbina sighed as you nestled as deep inside of her as you could go, engulfed to the last knuckle and palm flattening against her clit. You remained motionless as you watched her rock shamelessly into your touch, accepting an offering that, for once, she knew held no unspoken condition of reciprocity. And yet, she still wished to give back.
“Yours,” she breathed out at last, a dreamy smile playing at the crescent of her lips.
Arlecchino felt as though a spider were crawling its way up her spine, each wet plunge of your finger and angelic moan that it earned from Columbina pricking at her nerve endings like tiny claws. Despite her self-control keeping her perfectly bound in place, another tug at her leash from Columbina forced her to lurch forward unexpectedly, face to face with a sight that had her mouth watering like a wolf catching the scent of freshly spilled blood.
“Another,” Columbina pleaded, arching forward to press the swell of her clit harder against your palm. “Ah. Please?”
You hummed playfully. “Already?”
“Mmm. I can handle it. I always take you well, don’t I?” Her head tipped back against your shoulder, but under the fan of her dark lashes, her eyes continued to observe The Knave with unsettling calm, the same way the full moon gazed down passively on the world regardless of what state it was in. “B-besides, hah, look. Our puppy’s watching with great interest. Won’t you show her how it’s done?”
Your heart leapt in your chest, partially out of shock, and partially due to Arlecchino’s reaction. She shifted, a movement that she probably hoped to pass off as simply adjusting her position, but you didn’t miss the subtle press of her thighs together. Oh.
Columbina may very well be the only person in Teyvat who could get away with referring to Arlecchino in such a manner— a fact that she was just as acutely aware of as you, if the smug lilt in her tone was any indication. Spine tingling, you began to get the feeling that all three of you had taken far more of a liking to this dynamic than ever expected.
So, you complied with her wish. Her walls were so soft around your fingers, squeezing and wrapping around them so delicately like gentle kisses, fragile as the beat of dove wings. Your fingertips brushed against those velvety ridges inside of her, and a sweet gasp spilled from her berry-tinted lips, noticeably more reactive than usual.
There was no doubt in your mind that she was exaggerating her reactions just as a way to rile Arlecchino up—a mischief that would have seemed unheard of for the Moon Goddess had you not known her any better. Arlecchino surely saw through her intentions as well, but they still had the desired effect regardless. Her lips had pressed together into a tight red line akin to the webs she wove with her crimson bloodfire, only this time, she was the one caught.
Columbina’s back arched off your chest when your palm pushed down on her clit in an especially deep thrust, ribs protruding against her skin like the strings of a harp. “That’s my girl. You always grip me so tight, no matter how many times I stretch you out,” you crooned, pressing your free hand against her stomach with the hopes of steadying her in your lap. “You were made for my fingers, yeah?”
Columbina shuddered. She still hadn’t grown accustomed to it—praise borne from intimacy rather than worship, praise that filled her insides with a warm glow of familiarity rather than isolating her onto a far away pedestal carved of frigid ore. The novelty would never wear off for her; not after centuries of enduring hollow reverence.
“Mhm. I told you, I always do a good job taking everything you give me,” she sighed. “Feels…right. My body isn’t suited for anyone else.”
You agreed with a knowing murmur, tracing your hand up and down the smooth, milky expanse of her stomach while your fingers sank in and out of her like tides guided by the moon, lapping lazily at the shore.
“Do you wish it was you inside of her, Arlecchino? Feeling how wet and soft she is around those brutish claws of yours?”
Columbina tilted her head down with a quirk of her lips, sharing your view of Arlecchino’s ravenous gaze as she squeezed sinfully around you, just to add a bit more fuel to The Knave’s undying fire. However cold and unfeeling Arlecchino made herself, you knew that Columbina could sense the undercurrents of her true emotions behind that veil of smoke that rose from her charred skin.
She swallowed. “Am I allowed to wish for such a thing?”
“Of course you are, baby,” you said, and when she was this deprived, the term of endearment stirred her arousal the same way a physical touch would. “But you’ll never get it. A little dove like her needs to be treated with gentle hands.”
Columbina could sense the hot ripple of desire passing through Arlecchino’s skin—her composure was slipping, even if only the slightest bit.
It could be interpreted as an act of mercy, but truly, all Columbina wanted was to have a bit more fun. She angled her head towards you with a sigh, that mischievous, crescent moon smile appearing on her lips again as she whispered something in your ear. Arlecchino feigned disinterest in a manner that was second nature to her, but her eyes didn’t dare blink while the two of you engaged in a hushed conversation, as if she were physically trying to visualize the words spilling between your lips.
“Do I have your permission?” Columbina tilted her head.
“A goddess like you doesn’t need to ask for authority, does she?”
The goddess in question frowned at that, clearly unsatisfied that you hadn’t played along, especially when a deity was the last thing she wanted to be to you when draped over your lap with your fingers buried inside of her. So, with an apologetic giggle, you placed your hand over hers where Arlecchino’s leash was wrapped firmly around it and encouraged her to tug again.
“Alright, angel, have your fun.”
Columbina did exactly that. The moonlight illuminated her form to make her look every bit as angelic as you’d suggested while her actions were anything but. She reached out to card through Arlecchino’s two-toned hair, tender for just a split second before grabbing a small fistful and yanking her forward so that her head was pulled into the waiting space between your thighs. All that escaped Arlecchino was a low grunt of surprise, but it was enough to have your core pulsing with desire, both over Columbina’s unusual harshness and Arlecchino letting her have her way.
“That’s it. Control her for me, okay, Bina? Do that, and I’ll make you feel so good.”
To solidify the promise, your fingers curled inside the plush embrace of her walls, creating a wet squelch that had even the typically unashamed goddess squeezing her legs together out of embarrassment. She nodded with a faint whimper, curling forward to bend Arlecchino to her will.
“I’m—hah—adept at communicating with animals,” she stuttered out, adorably earnest in a way that nearly had you sinking your teeth into the soft slope of her neck out of pure affection. “Go on, Arlecchino. Open your mouth like a good puppy.”
The wave of lust that crashed over Arlecchino upon hearing the command was so unexpected, she curled her sharp nails into the skin of her palms to contain it. Eyelids heavy, she gave a slow dip of her head, still managing to maintain unwavering eye contact as that stoney jaw of hers opened up to feast on you.
There was no careful first lick, no methodical testing of the waters like her usual mode of operation. Instead, her tongue slid against your folds like flames licking at firewood, so uncharacteristically desperate—fully committed to the role of a pet. Your breath caught in your throat the instant her hot muscle flattened against you, as though she’d concentrated all the burning blood in her body to that single point of contact. Columbina was just as taken by the sight as you were, walls fluttering wildly around your fingers even when you’d become too distracted to move them inside of her.
Arlecchino hummed into your heat like a wildcat purring in satisfaction over a freshly caught meal, and you knew right away that this would be more of a problem than you’d anticipated. The flicks of her tongue were far from the slow and steady buildup you were accustomed to from her, they were ravenous and uncontrolled, threatening to erupt into the very wildfire you’d—admittedly—been coaxing her into.
“Poor thing, she’s starving,” you noted breathlessly, giving Columbina’s waist a gentle squeeze to signal for her to reign Arlecchino in.
A gravelly groan rumbled in Arlecchino’s throat as Columbina tugged at her hair again to pull her back for a moment, but its vibration went directly to your clit nonetheless. Though she said nothing, you could tell by the raw intensity in her eyes that she was abundantly pleased with how much of your essence had already coated her mouth, like a fresh application of lipstick. Or, perhaps, her favorite meal; she was most fond of natural tastes, after all.
Despite how your body instantly longed for that addictive glide of warmth again, your fingers got back to work inside of Columbina, spreading in a scissor-like motion and cooing when her walls stretched so readily for you, eager for a third finger even if it pushed her to her limit.
“L-like—ah, a-ah. Do you like it, puppy?” Columbina asked, made all the sweeter by the airy moans accentuating her voice. “Are you hungry for more?”
Arlecchino drew her tongue slowly over her bottom lip, sucking your essence onto her tastebuds in a wordless answer. Other than that, she remained quiet, as though Columbina were asking her a trick question.
Waiting for your permission, you realized.
“Good dog,” you praised. “You can speak, Arlecchino.”
“It’s more important that you like it, no?” she uttered at last, thick with arousal and even huskier than her usual tenor, heavy with the weight of all the impulses she was keeping at bay. Then, with just a drop of desire that tasted like the finest cream mixed into dark, bitter coffee, she added. “I’d…be grateful for another taste.”
Ever the diplomat. You might’ve found it bothersome, how she kept up the act even now, if it weren’t for the very obvious craving woven into every restless twitch of her toned muscles. It was as close to writhing with need as you may ever get her.
At your signal, Columbina let her pity for Arlecchino take over, giving the leash in her hand another twirl to wrap it tighter around her palm. This time, Arlecchino went straight for your inner thighs, lapping up all the juices from both you and Columbina that had smeared over your skin; a blend more intoxicating than any Snezhnayan spirit.
“Look at that,” you drawled into Columbina’s ear, pulling your fingers out of her with a filthy squelch to press them down on Arlecchino’s spread tongue. “Greedy mutt’s licking us both up. One isn’t enough for her.”
Columbina puffed out a laugh, another dribble of wetness trickling from her slit as it squeezed around nothing, crying out for your fingers again. “I think she’s a good girl,” she replied with a gentleness that told you she truly was treating Arlecchino as she would any animal companion. “She’s keeping us clean while she makes—mmph—makes a mess of herself.”
While Columbina found the sincerity of your praise novel, Arlecchino found your condescension novel—more specifically, how the two of you spoke about her as though she weren’t even there, as though she truly was a pet that couldn’t understand. It sent a strange thrill shooting up her spine, one that she kept under tight wraps, just as she did with all the other oddities that got her heart pumping.
You paused to catch your breath, teeth digging into your lip when Arlecchino parted her mouth wide to swirl her tongue around your folds from top to bottom, messy and slippery and rising in temperature dangerously fast. “How wet do you think she is down there? You think Father is leaking for us in her underwear?”
The sound Arlecchino made rumbled dangerously against your heat, setting off a chain reaction that made your fingers curl extra hard inside Columbina, which in turn had her pulling at the white threads of Arlecchino’s hair even tighter. A burst of ghostly blue surged out around you, and then, a puff of laughter as Columbina found the answer to your question with the aid of her kuuvahki.
“Yes,” she confirmed happily, without a care in the world for preserving Arlecchino’s pride. “She really, really likes the taste of you.”
Your walls tightened at that, and you knew Arlecchino took notice of it by the way the serpent of her tongue trailed ravenously down your folds before dipping into your entrance, itching to experience you clenching around it for herself. The look in her eyes as she peered up at you was far more charged than you were accustomed to, black holes where no light could typically be found now ignited with longing—an emotion she so rarely allowed herself to succumb to, let alone express.
Columbina began to realize that your fingers had slowed their pumping inside of her, and greedily, she draped herself over your chest, black and magenta silk splaying out all over your skin as tried to lure your focus back to her.
“Don’t forget about me,” she complained, so soft in contrast to the vindictive edge her next words held. “She’s just a toy tonight, isn’t she? You said you’d make me feel good.”
“If you want my attention so bad, I can add another finger,” you teased, trailing your index finger around her stretched out entrance, pushing against the soft pink flesh without fully slipping inside. She hiccuped in surprise, legs jolting in your lap and closing around Arlecchino’s head.
You had no chance to brace yourself before Arlecchino buried her tongue even deeper inside you in her first true act of defiance of the night, nose brushing against your clit to make your stomach bubble with rising pressure. It wasn’t just the squeeze of Columbina’s pillowy thighs against her cheeks or the tightening leather around her throat that had her moaning into you, it was the taste of you flooding her tongue as she nestled it as far inside your walls as she could go. She dug into you not only like a dog, but a starved one, tilting her head to the side without Columbina’s permission to get as much of her mouth on your slick skin as she could, completely enveloping your clit in the process.
You clenched your teeth, already beginning to see stars, but even as you used your free hand to tap Columbina’s clenched thighs, she paid you no mind, too preoccupied with the delicious rhythm of your fingers dragging in and out of her walls.
“Bina,” you gasped out. “Don’t forget to keep her in check.”
Columbina’s eyes had gone hazy, threatening to shut again as all the stimulation of the waking world was beginning to become too much for her. Still, she tried to obey, using her hold on Arlecchino’s leash to force her head back and practically pry her off of you. Even with the loss of her tongue, your insides were crackling with lightning from the knowledge that she had lost herself in you for those precious few seconds.
“Bad dog still thinks she’s the one in control,” you clicked your tongue. “Did I tell you that you could do that?”
Arlecchino didn’t look guilty in the slightest, but she was left panting helplessly with her tongue still extended, as if she may very well go mad if she didn’t dive back into you that instant.
“Should I punish her?” Columbina mused, reaching out to swipe some of your essence from the corner of The Knave’s mouth. Before you could respond, she brought it to her lips, trying it for herself and letting out a sweet hum of satisfaction. “Mmm. No wonder she’s so desperate for you.”
“She’s acting like a mutt in heat,” you sneered.
Columbina tilted her head. “Perhaps she doesn’t know any better?”
A different kind of heat had consumed Arlecchino now, one that she was wholly unfamiliar with—abashment. Prickles of shame not only for how you degraded her, but for how much enjoyment she was getting out of it. She swallowed thickly, rasping out an apology that, all things considered, seemed sincere enough. A lack of self-restraint was unbecoming of her, no matter the circumstances.
“Remember to keep her like this, baby,” you directed Columbina, rubbing lazy circles into her clit with your thumb that had her melting back against you. “I’ll teach her how to behave.”
She could only manage a nod, too preoccupied by the onslaught of sensations that overwhelmed her system. Colors, scents, sounds, they all echoed like songs in a cavern around her dizzy head. Arlecchino’s huffs and grunts were borderline pitiful now, hands twisting in her restraints, aching to grasp at your thighs. But all she got was Columbina securing her head in place with an electromagnetic surge of kuuvahki, pressing Arlecchino’s lolling tongue against your folds for you to use to your liking.
You sighed, warm slick draping over your cunt like a blanket. “Stay,” you warned her, giving your hips an experimental grind and taking satisfaction in how obediently still she remained. “Just take what I give you like a good puppy.”
Columbina’s hips had begun to wriggle impatiently again in your lap, but she still played her part with adorable diligence, nails digging into Arlecchino’s scalp as she began to drag her face against your cunt.
The tension in your abdomen picked up right where it left off, as did the dragging of your fingers against Columbina’s walls, so wet now that an utterly sinful noise accompanied each pump of your fingers. Despite all the power contained in her fragile form, you could feel her trembling from the effort it took her to drag Arlecchino’s head up and down your heat when her own insides were being churned so wonderfully.
“Good girl,” you whispered, tucking a lock of raven hair behind her ear to press kisses to her cheek. “Use her to make me cum.”
“Good girl,” Columbina repeated after you, light and melodic, a string of praises passing from you, to her, to the bound and muzzled canine at your feet. “Good girl, good girl, good girl.”
Her cheeks were tinged pink, almost as much of a rarity as the view of Arlecchino’s brows knitting together as the sweet praises bathed her tastebuds along with your essence. Despite the ache in her jaw, she opened her mouth wider, ensuring that every inch of her tongue was being used to get you off. If she could control nothing else, she would at least make herself the most effective tool she could be.
“I’m sorry—ah,” Columbina whimpered, fingers losing their grip around Arlecchino’s head as yours brought her to her breaking point. “I’m trying b-but…I’m going to—”
“Shh. It’s okay, little dove. You did so well for me.”
Columbina arched forward with a broken cry, clit throbbing against your palm and hips rocking into your curled fingers to at last reach her high. You snaked an arm around her body to secure her, feeling her heartbeat flutter like a bird trapped in her ribcage as you rested your palm over the boney valley between her breasts.
The tremors of her body against yours were so delicate compared to the sheer power radiating from the kuuvahki fluctuations she lost control of. It created a hypnotizing thrum in Arlecchino’s head, one that quieted all the echoes in her mind and left it pleasantly empty. The sensation soothed her, lowering her guard enough to have her groaning into you and making each grind against her outstretched tongue all the more mind-numbing for you.
Columbina let go of Arlecchino completely as she fell against you with a sigh, walls still twitching around your fingers from the aftershocks of her climax. Even without being held down, Arlecchino still kept her head in place for you, dutifully fulfilling her purpose as a warm, dripping mouth for you to get off on.
That was the detail that sent you over the edge shortly after Columbina, how willingly she offered herself up as an object for your pleasure. Heat erupted in your core, body tensing up beneath Columbina as you hit your peak, then relaxing as bliss washed over you, waves and waves of relief spreading from where Arlecchino was devouring you to every last nerve-ending in your body.
Everything around you was delightfully wet—your release mixing with Columbina’s to pool on Arlecchino’s waiting tongue, the droplets of sweat beading on Columbina’s pale skin like Moonfall Silver, and the steam rising from Arlecchino’s burning skin. It left you lightheaded, barely able to wrap your arms around Columbina’s waist as you both collapsed back into the seat cushions.
Arlecchino’s lust was palpable, manifesting in slow draws of her tongue that attempted to gather every bit of slick from her soaked chin, all while panting like a dog on a hot summer day. The sound alone was enough to make your hypersensitive clit twitch all over again.
Then, she swallowed it all down, straightening out her spine and aching shoulders to tilt her head at you, hair tousled and fluffed up to make her look nothing short of adorable—however much she may scoff at the notion.
“So—” she began, low and raspy, still fighting to regain control of her voice. “Was I a good dog for you?”
Columbina seemed just about ready to doze off, eyes already shut tight once more as her frantic little breaths slowed to a gentle rise and fall. All she could manage was a weak hum, so you reached down to the best of your ability and cradled Arlecchino’s face. A deep crimson had stained it—for once, blood pooling in her cheeks rather than splattering across them.
“As good as we trained you to be.”
