[ Again, she asks, and who is Lauralae to deny her it?
Moving forward, shifting, she gets as close to Cellar as she can manage, her slight form pushing her up as she chases the taste of her, of the bite of her mouth. There is something there, a promise, and she chases it, tilting her head just-so and biting into the kiss, a little harsher and crueller than she might be with some.
At heart, Lauralae has the capacity for sweetness, but she is finding as time goes on there is more and more bite to her, more danger, the urge to feel the pleasure of it colour her skin.
Her teeth bite and scrape, properly this time, digging in close enough that she could draw blood, and she clings to Cellar as if she could start to crawl under her clothes. ]
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Moving forward, shifting, she gets as close to Cellar as she can manage, her slight form pushing her up as she chases the taste of her, of the bite of her mouth. There is something there, a promise, and she chases it, tilting her head just-so and biting into the kiss, a little harsher and crueller than she might be with some.
At heart, Lauralae has the capacity for sweetness, but she is finding as time goes on there is more and more bite to her, more danger, the urge to feel the pleasure of it colour her skin.
Her teeth bite and scrape, properly this time, digging in close enough that she could draw blood, and she clings to Cellar as if she could start to crawl under her clothes. ]
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