Northstar Vale with parted lips in fragrancy of prayer: unearth everything that’s in me

“How is it that you make a man ... happy?”
the low enquiry wreathed through the pungent heat of Cuivénen, sending a shiver across the fée's shoulders as she let let the words weigh against the ear of @Kalika. A reprieve from newlywed hours that had since commenced elation's ebbing from her ever-fluttery heart; and though remnants of blush cradled shorn cheeks, she staved her own urgings to balk into cavernwaters, and instead nestled her chin into crook of elbow and gazed with hazy halfsights upon the siren's own features. She would dare to guess, she supposes, what the selkie's answer may very well entail;
and so it was that a private simper pressed the desecrated's mouth to dimple, faintly, faintly. The mannerisms of a nigh-shying vixen:  “Do you ... do to them what you did in our lesson?”
when ze rampage rode me?  but she remains quiet, listening; not having forgotten, at least.

the medusa snaked from one side of undómiel to the next, settling to lay at her side. heavy-lidded eyes rested as slits; her head rested atop the plumes of white that coated the leader's spine. andraste had been wed to, melkor, the man?; kalika understood the attraction, but found herself unable to comprehend the custom of marriage. 

no matter. andraste was ready for another lesson and her teacher was prepared to assist. i'll ask you this first, she trilled, lifting her body with a yawn, what makes you happy? it was her belief that such a thing was more important than what was asked.

Skinship: simpers and soft teasings. A rare thing, this  –  for another that was not the wind, snow, or flurrying of her beloved's kisses to touch upon the dead-delicate tapestry that had been made of her spine. There were places, welted and worn, which either retained too much sensation or none at all; but the press of her myriad mentor was not yet an unwelcome one ... nor her own enquiry. Though they were surely well and alone, a timid eye was still reserved to take in the great, reaching chamber all 'round them. Then, somewhat hushedly:

“Teeth on my throat,”  as so evidenced, finally, by her bridesmark,  “and ze taunting. Ze coming undone by words. When it is I who move my hips beneath him. When I look into his eyes as I end him. And—”  the fairylight presses her ribs to stone, now, and looks upon the medusian; lain beneath her to-be second.  “And, once upon a time ... it made me happiest to have him plead for me. I want that again. And, I want ... well, there must be more that I can do  –  is there not?”

There must be more that I can make him feel. Make him wish for.

the seductress watched with lustful gaze as undómiel fell flush to stone. she listened to andraste's response, took into consideration every detail; intrigued, kalika moved up toward an attentive ear and whispered, i'll show you. then nipping at its base, she stood and bound just out of her companion's reach. 

chase me, she called back. another step back as a suggestive grin took root, and when you catch me — if you catch me — act as though i am you, and you are the man.

The siren's words were as oiled water against the velvet fringe of seelie's quivering ear; with a pinch to the tender bulb that near elicited a squeak from the faerie, Kalika swept away, garbed in the finery of her own personal practice. She listens with dark lashes fluttery a bit dazedly, though her rubied brow weaves in momentary bewilderment to the riddle-ish words—
( act as though you are the man, and that I am you )
—but comprehension soon alights upon scarification, and with a curl of little delight to her lips, Andraste rises from stone's edge and orbits for the saitayérë with an eager, prentice feathering of tail at boney hocks. Wonders aloud, all the while seeking a way to be nearer:  “To make your pursuer come undone themselves, with your words, when... chasing  –  have you done that?”

After another heartbeat's hesitation, the moon-maid surges; hoping to clip fangs along the siren's shoulder  —  or rib, or haunch, whether she's whirled from her assault early enough.

the lesson seemed to be going smoothly, so far as kalika could tell. andraste rose, albeit with visible apprehension. hoping that her student was paying attention, the siren moved so that her haunch was the only region open for the bite's landing. a strategic move that she hoepd would not be missed.

she turned so as to be a semi-circle standing directly in front of her companion. another bite, this one meant to land somewhere between shoulder and throat. and as she dashed away once more, kalika called, is that what you want to learn?

an experienced vixen, she did know how to do what was being asked. however, her preferred language was not the common tongue. she doubted that andraste was familiar with the themiscyran way of speaking, but her accent implied something other... the sylph continued, asking, does the mean know your language?

“Yes—”
the saltcrest taste of loin remains anchored to tongue; barely a breath is hitched as Fëafelmë scythes the tenderlean portions 'round her own fluted collarbone, “—and, neither tongue.”   She’s fed Melkor bits of valerian, as oft as she was able, yes; but the fée was certain that he was not versed in the words of the stoneflower  –  the ones that she sometimes, fewtimes misses within her throat. Heavied, crowded, roughening, like—
“I no longer speak ze second,"  the fairylight near hisses; shooing shardthought in favor for Agana's upkeep of their second haventongue;
darting now for the selkie's open breast, or shoulder in her own hopes of leaving some nibbling peck that would last to sting sweet the flesh. Pursuing, now; attempting to advance, to wend spindly arms whichever way 'bout her mentor she might:
“I want to make him dream of me. Make his longing so terrible,”  churring creature-thing,  “so if he wishes to taste me, he must sleep,”  reaching, reaching for sweeping jawline; simpering;
“and then he must wake, and plead for reprieve. I am not sure how lenient I would be?”

Shameless, as ever-eventually;
green and girlish sensualities.

when he comes to you, she whispered, heed him. kalika had allowed andraste's grip to reign around her neck, falling onto her side— her back, and using her own hindlegs to bolster the smaller woman into a straddle. here, hopefully with her illusioned melkor on top, they could continue the lesson.

the siren listened to each word, face curling into a heavy frown as undómiel continued. you want him to beg? she asked, pushing herself as far into the ground as one could manage, you can never know leniency.

she didn't think that escaping her captor's grasp would be difficult; kalika shifted and rolled, hoping to make it a few dashes away before being caught. while she ran, she continued, men are as children. you give them what they wish, they come to expect it. you must be cruel. a step forward, a snap; she hoped to break skin as hers had been broken. cruel until you can take it no more, and cruel even then. then, he will beg.

archiving! im gna miss her oml

"What if,"  –  pale, pantherine purr, all prancing and petal-footed from the schnick! of the siren's fangs  –  "you act as ze man beneath me, instead?"  Rubied crown canting at Kalika, considering:  "That way, you can use what masculine knowledge you know against me, and I can mold my own sort of ... cruelty."  The fatale was her mentor, after all, and she could easily rebuke the stricken's suggestion by reinforcing her original lesson.

But with her eventual consent, Undómiel crooned, and so the tutelage began anew.