[ It would be impossible to resist, now that permission has been given, and Lauralae tilts, pushing forward to lean into the kiss, the softest brush of their mouths. It is almost sweet, almost something romantic and tender, and she does not think that is something that they intended. Does Cellar want romance? Or does she want something a little more desperate, a little needier in the midst of the house's games?
Lauralae is not sure, and so she gives into instinct instead.
One arm wraps around the other woman, drawing her closer as she tilts and presses into another kiss, her little fangs scraping over her lip, surging up to try and deepen it, to take what she wants.
Deep in her mind, she thinks only of this: she wants to devour her, to taste her, to know the curve of her against her tongue and memorise it, so that she might find her in the dark and know her by scent alone. ]
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Lauralae is not sure, and so she gives into instinct instead.
One arm wraps around the other woman, drawing her closer as she tilts and presses into another kiss, her little fangs scraping over her lip, surging up to try and deepen it, to take what she wants.
Deep in her mind, she thinks only of this: she wants to devour her, to taste her, to know the curve of her against her tongue and memorise it, so that she might find her in the dark and know her by scent alone. ]