Shards of the One Pt. 03

Senna appeared, her head bobbing in the water, her eyes moonlit sapphires. Emylia paused a moment.

"Alright!" she nearly shouted, stretching as she strode to the edge. She leapt, tracing a neat arc, her arms folded over her head, shattering the surface and thundering into the deep water.

Senna shrieked gleefully, nearly struck by a stray leg. They tumbled and wrestled in the water, familiar hands striking into unfamiliar territories. In the darkness, their fumblings - curious, not entirely innocent- went unaddressed. Senna pinched at her stomach relentlessly, her throaty laugh reverberating in the empty bathhouse. Emylia could only curl up like a spider dying, fighting for breath between helpless giggles. Senna's vice grip easily found her thighs, stinging her with horse-bites. Emylia spluttered, roaring involuntarily under the water. Hopelessly she struck out, her fingers closing around one of Senna's ample breasts. It felt beautifully soft; pert and round, the nipple tall and hard in the cold.

"Now, now." she chided, "Foul play!"

"I didn't mean- ah!"

"I shall have to punish you for that!" Senna shouted, her jaw clenched with exertion, pinching deftly at Emylia's ribs.

They laughed as they released one another, drifting on their backs, the moonlight strumming the surface, each tiny wave-cap scintillating madly. The stars were like holes poked in the heavens, like the first snow, falling brightly against the cloak of night. Emylia felt like an island, surrounded by water, her geography at the mercy of its whims and tides. Senna, too, was like an island to her. The undulations of her body, sharp with moonglow, were like a foreign landscape, exotic and mysterious to her, and yet familiar, beckoning her as land does a sailor. They turned and eddied about on the currents of their play, tumbling gently on the wake of their own dance. Their breathing, their soft, contrapuntal sighing, was the only sound. All else held still. A strange tension thrummed in the silence as they floated, so close together.

"Sen. Can I ask you something?"

"What?" came the reply, not ungentle.

"Yesterday... have you ever...um. I had this feeling."

"You'll have to be more specific." Senna replied, drily.

"After I got home, after I saw Father off. Leto, on the ship... Leto, he-"

"What?"

"He made me feel something. Something came over me. I had this urge to be touched. I felt all feverish."

"Oh."

"Listen. Don't laugh. I just wondered. Haven't you wanted to... did you ever-"

"Touch myself? Down there."

A pause, and then the meek response.

"-Yes."

"Of course. Haven't you?"

"Well, I did."

"And?"

"It felt good. But I didn't know what was happening to me. It was all so... "

"Intense."

"Yes."

They floated in silence. Emylia flushed with shame, feeling naive and foolish for having worried. Senna made a crunching noise, biting into an apple, discarded, that bobbed past.

"Sen..."

"Mmm."

"Is... that what it's like, when you're with Attio. When you're with a man?"

"Well. No."

"No?"

"No. Attio... Attio is, well, like most men. It's like... a sword thrust: a needle in the right place would do as well. When it comes to that, men are simple. We, for better or worse, are not." She paused awhile.

"He fucks like a bull, though." she admitted. Emylia blushed in the darkness, a strange mixture of emotion swimming within her.

"I'm sure it will... make sense. When the time comes."

"Mmm." They reached the poolside, each grasping their cups and taking another long sip of the excellent wine.

"So, do you... Do that often?"

"What, with Attio? He's unrelenting. Almost every night, and some mornings. He's no conversationalist, and it's like I said; he's a brute when it comes to lovemaking. No concept of foreplay whatsoever. There are some things we must do for ourselves, from time to time."

She paused.

"Not that I dread our coupling, of course."

"I see."

"You will." Senna raised her voice, the beginning of a tirade mounting. "For example, he's always forcing my head between his legs - always shooting his seed in my mouth - but he'd never turn his attention to me. To my body. Seldom do our consummations... include me, shall we say. Ah. We women are but vessels for their lust, and when that fades- which it surely must- their children."

"You don't mean it." Emylia soothed.

"I wish, just once, that he'd make love to me, instead of just fuck me. Ah." she kicked at the water.

"What do you mean, Sen?" she laid a hand on her friend's shoulder.

"He'd not even do so much as that." She spat. "He should touch me. Like this." She took Emylia's hand, trailing it along her chest, toward her navel.

"Sen..."

"Hush. Let me lead."

"Sen."

"We're friends. Aren't we?"

A long moment passed, and Emylia felt something between them change, forever.

"There's no shame in this. Let me guide you." Senna turned to face Emylia, kissed her lips. A long moment passed, neither parting. Silence. Emylia felt a rush throughout her entire body, felt the weakness of desire.

She relented, let Senna's hand lift hers, over the wet, warm skin, to the heat of her cleft. The skin there was shaven and impossibly smooth to her touch.

"There. Lower."

She felt the moist nub of Senna's clitoris. Senna's breath hitched.

"Ah." She opened her legs, surrendering. Emylia sat behind her, under her, feeling her, small and fragile, against her body.

"Emmy," she breathed, "Don't rush it. It's better if you... work... for it."

Emylia did as she was bid, curious fingers turning further south, exploring the bare valley either side of her sex. It was an odd feeling; utterly alien and yet entirely familiar. She felt goosepimples on the soft flesh, and realized she had been holding her breath.

"Like that?"

"Go back," was Senna's reply.

She enjoyed the sense of control; it felt as though she held Senna on a leash. All of her wit, every quick barb was useless now, for now it was Emylia who set the pace. She slowed, and toyed with Senna's clitoris with the idle curiosity of a cat.

"Mmmmm."

Emylia felt desire course through her, deciding to be cruel.

"I think I understand, " she said simply, withdrawing her hand. "Shall I stop, then?" she asked, withdrawing her hand. She had Senna right where she wanted her.

"Emmy... no, don't."

"Alright," she grinned, her lips pressed against Senna's ear. She felt Senna becoming wet under her touch.

"Yes...like that..."

Emylia took Senna's left breast, firm and full as an apple, in her hand, squeezing sensually.

"Yes?"

"Yeah,"

She began working her first two fingers in tight circles at the mouth of Senna's cunt, as she had done the previous day. Senna squirmed a little with pleasure, her thighs bucking gently. The feeling of their wet bodies, grinding together, only aroused Emylia further. She wanted Senna, now. Wanted to give her pleasure. All of her inhibitions melted away, obliterated by the surging rush of her desire.

"Perhaps, if you sit there-" she indicated a nearby rock, part of the room's decoration. Senna obeyed, wordless. No sooner had she slipped away from her touch did Emylia crave her again.

"Yes. Part your legs. Like that. Up."

"Put your...put your fingers inside."

"I'll hurt you."

"No, silly. You won't." Senna smiled down at her, bared beautifully before her. Emylia did so, running her fingers over her clitoris, moistening them again before inserting her index finger, up to the first joint, into Senna's sex. Teasing once more, she pushed forward for an instant before withdrawing completely, her fingertips sodden.

"More. Emmy, more. Please."

"Like that?" She returned her hand, this time pressing two fingers inside her.

"Yes, yes, yes," Senna moaned, enraptured, "Like that..."

Senna's sex felt warm and tight around her fingers, soft and responsive to her every movement. Gently, she altered angles, thrusting upward, her fingers curved inward as if to beckon.

"That's it...don't stop"

"Stop?" She teased, making as if to withdraw.

"You... wicked thing," Senna panted. Emylia rose to her feet, keeping her hand at Senna's groin. Steadying herself against Senna's side, she leant and kissed her aggressively. Senna pushed back, gasping between kisses. She gripped Emylia's free arm. Her breath rifled from her nose as she bit her lip, her chest rising and falling dramatically.

Next, Emylia began to experiment with the rhythm, pulsing and slowing as she made slight adjustments, withdrawing and entering; hesitating at the opening; pushing deep inside, her knuckles stickying; thrusting insistently, accelerating and slowing once more, reading every change in Senna's expression; pushing her closer and drawing her back, playfully, teasing her just enough before relenting; allowing her a few moments of intensity before receding, Senna's anticipation building all the while; a tide creeping upshore, inch by inch.

Senna slurred and whined as if delirious.

"Yes... Yes...yes, yes, yes...yes! Like that. Like that!"

Emylia nudged her thumb against the bulging hood of Senna's clitoris, bumping it gently with every rhythmic thrust. Senna was positively dripping, her hands clawing at the rock. Muscles in her thighs jumped spasmodically.

"Here. Lay down," Emylia whispered, guiding her to the floor. Senna lay flat and raised her knees, spreading her legs as if to give birth. Emylia leant over, her right hand still working attentively, her left against the cool stone next to Senna's head. Her hair spilled down, shaking with each jerking movement, the soft, hazel locks mingling with Senna's gold. Their eyes met. Senna's were creased at the corners in ecstasy, widening as she noticed the intensity in Emylia's. She craned her neck, lifting her lips in supplication. Emylia kissed her again, hard, momentarily freeing her hand. Senna's hands closed around her cheeks, soft and cool as snow. Her fingers made tentative explorations of her body, painfully, cruelly slow; playing with her hair, resting at her neck, a thumb against her throat, cupping her modest bosom, one finger toying with a nipple till it stood hard, hanging in the air inches from her own.

Emylia exhaled softly with delight, planting a kiss against Senna's proud cheekbone, wending her way down the pale island of her body, covering her with kisses. They settled on her like a hundred butterflies, landing in sequence, as Emylia traveled southward. She left one in the crook of her neck, beneath her chin, then at her collarbone, then atop her breast, before taking the nipple in her mouth. She toyed with it softly, held it between her teeth with perfect delicacy, ran her tongue in lazy rings over it, full and firm between her lips. Next she moved sideways, planting a crop of kisses in a straight row down Senna's ribs, which flared beneath her skin with every halting breath. Senna's fingers buried themselves in her hair, and Emylia heard her voice, faintly;

"Oh, Emmy. Emylia. Yes. Yes."

Her words were less urgent now, but more deliberate. One at a time they dripped from her tongue, like honey, as lovingly and carefully placed as Emylia's kisses. She laid the next one coolly on Senna's belly, before reaching the plains of her crotch.

"Emmy... yes. Use your tongue. Oh, yes."

Poised above the lips of her cunt, Emylia murmured assent, knowing the vibration would feel pleasant against her sex.

"Mmm."

"Oh. Don't tease me!"

She began, almost imperceptibly, gyrating her tongue against Senna's clitoris. It felt engorged, soft and round like a little berry in her mouth. Her lips smacked as she closed them over it. Rolling her tongue lightly over it, she tasted the same saltiness as the day before, rivers of lust running thickly over Senna's sex. Her chin became slick with her wetness as she lapped more enthusiastically. Senna hunched and moaned, her feet hanging in the air.

"Oh... Yes. Yes. Yes, yes, yes. Don't stop. Don't stop. There, there, slower, slower. Yes!"

Growing more confident, Emylia flicked her tongue intermittently, sending spasms of pleasure through Senna. She felt them radiate out of her sex, expressed throughout her body as moans and clenches. Emylia was beginning to seriously enjoy herself. On her knees, she reached with her free hand between her legs, feeling her own cunt growing wet with excitement. She pulsed with excitement and anticipation. She fondled her clitoris briefly before redirecting her attention to Senna.

"Oh, Gods, Emmy. Don't stop. Fuck me. Yes."

"Senna..."

She began licking the length of her sex, from its southmost point to her clitoris, slowly, savouring her. Gently she probed at the raised lips, so soft against her face as she bobbed. She felt Senna coiling and tensing, her stomach flattened, hard.

"Yes, yes, ye-e-e-es!"

Senna held her head against her cunt, her fingers gripping her hair. Emylia licked eagerly, wiggling the tip of her tongue of her sweet spot. Senna's vagina was a sopping mess, now, fluid dripping between her cheeks and down Emylia's chin.

"Fuck!" she yelled, the noise echoing.

"Mmm, Senna," Emylia moaned. Teasing, she stuck the very tip of her tongue between the folds of her sex, poking just beyond the opening.

"Oh, yes. Do that. Deeper."

Emylia obeyed. She stuck her tongue inside, thrusting as she had done with her fingers. It felt strange, but pleasant, and Senna nearly shrieked with ecstasy. Her thighs closed like a shellfish around Emylia's head as the pleasure became too much.

"Oh! Yes! Yes! Yes!"

Sensing the on rush of Senna's climax, she retreated, licking sparingly at the nub of her clitoris. With the tip of her tongue she jiggled once or twice at a time, doling out pleasure like the last of a fine wine. Senna practically begged her for mercy.

"Please, please, yes, oh, I'm coming, it's coming... don't stop. Just like that. Just. Like. That."

But Emylia continued to torment her, bringing her close to the edge, and disappearing away again. She felt the tension building, felt Senna's thighs, against her face, flexing, felt the spasms of her sex. She held her like a hooked fish, wriggling with desperation.

"Please, please, please, oh, oh, oh, oh, "

Her voice was strained, almost with pain. Emylia knew that she was moments from orgasm. Gently, with the grace of a clement king, she granted it. Masterfully she bestowed it upon her, lolling her tongue over Senna's clitoris as she writhed and crossed her legs in delicious agony.

"YES, Oh... Yes! Yes! Ah!"

As it washed over her , unabating, Emylia receded, collapsing next to her panting lover.

"That's it. That's it." she whispered, her chest heaving in the shattered afterglow of orgasm.

They lay for some moments, sweat-soaked and short of breath, gazing at the star-strewn canopy of night. A confused torrent of emotions tumbled over Emylia and her mind stumbled and scattered over them all like a blinkered horse broken loose. The mad percussion of her heart beat on as she grasped for the right words. Eventually, Senna spoke, unmoving.

"Well."

Emylia could only laugh. Senna joined her, the racket booming against the stone. She rolled onto her side, staring into Emylia's dark eyes. Her grin faded.

"That was... Something. Gods, Emmy. Thank you. No, that doesn't sound right. I mean-"

Emylia stared back, struck by Senna's mordant wit coming up empty for the first time. She floundered, struggling to express what she felt. Emylia shushed her.

Senna placed a hand lightly on Emylia's stomach, stroking her softly.

"Em. I..."

"Senna...I think that-," she began, unable to meet her gaze. She took a long breath.

"I think I might love you."

"Well," came the reply, "Well."

She crawled up and kissed her lovingly upon the lips. They hung there for a while, all of time seeming suspended for them. A breeze peered in through the oculus and they shivered slightly, their lips peeling apart into conspiratorial grins. The water beside them was silent, moody. It glinted, a mirror to the stars. Senna raised herself, and Emylia made to follow.

"Lie still."

She did as commanded.

"Open your legs."

She did as commanded.

"Now lift your knees."

She did as commanded, and Senna bent, like a bird diving. Her breath against her thighs, her sex, tickled and aroused her.

Senna toyed with her, repaid her twice over for all her devilish teasing. She built the tension, agonizingly slowly, pausing for moments that felt like hours as Emylia's heart fluttered and her breath caught in her throat.

"Sen-," She gasped, as Senna tongued her tentatively, as though probing a wound.

"Senna..."

Senna raised herself.

"I love it when you say my name."

"Senna. Senna. Senna!"

Senna shook her head. It was a dumb joke.

"You idiot," she said, not unkindly, bowing once more.

Her lips were warm against her thighs. Playful, she nipped at the plump, pale flesh there. Expertly she ran her tongue over Emylia's right lip, framing her sex in a long, slow circle. Emylia's hands clutched empty air. Senna felt her tensing, and immediately withdrew, moving away toward her thigh again.

"No... Sen...oh, you're cruel!"

"Mmm..." came the muffled reply.

Her lovemaking was frustratingly indirect, but deliberately so. Now and then she would press her lips to Emylia's sodden sex, lapping at her clitoris with attentive fervour. Emylia forgot herself;

"Gods damn it! Fuck! Senna! Fuck me! Yes, yes! Yes!"

Senna teased her once more, her tongue coiled like a viper, nudging her button with terrible softness. Emylia hunched and bucked involuntarily, agony and ecstasy throbbing from her quivering sex. Senna's lips and tongue were drenched, and they smacked and slurped as she returned, pouring down pleasure as if from a burst dam.

Emylia lost all sense of anything beyond herself. Beyond Senna. The world about her seemed to thrash and spin, and she felt pressure building inside her, torrential. Felt burdened by the immense, rushing might of her coming climax, felt it charging like a storm, like rain swelling in the heavens before a flood. The stars, leering from the oculus above, seemed to dim, the shroud of night repairing the tiny holes they left one by one as clouds, fierce-faced and bulbous in the moonlight gathered over them. It felt as though everything, all existence held taut with the intensity of the moment.

"Senna," Emylia moaned, "Senna, Sen..."

Senna, for her part, lapped lovingly at her cunt, burying her face between her legs. She busied her tongue like a man dying of thirst, licking slavishly, desperately. Constantly, she kept Emylia guessing, kept her eternally off-balance, ratcheting the intensity ever higher. As Emylia convulsed, moisture pooling beneath her backside, Senna alternated, smoothly, rapidly, between her fingers and tongue, unrelenting. Though it felt similar to when she had masturbated, the constant surprises, the changes in their rhythm drove her, enraptured, into an altogether new state of bliss. Emylia wondered, faintly, whether her skill was the mark of experience.

She felt her orgasm coming; it bore down on her, inescapable. A million thrumming, concatenating spasms of pleasure assailed her as Senna, brow soaked with the exertion, fucked her ever harder.