Turkey is not one to deny confrontation, or back away from a threat so the day she decided to move away from the shadows, rising from her cushioned throne, away from the support of ornate pillows and tapestries, she had already set in her mind her goal, and that was to dance amongst, to touch, to caress, to consume and control the splendor and desire pouring forth from the treasures Egypt possessed. She knew it would not be easy and she would have to move just right to catch the other off guard, but on the other hand, she had no doubt in her mind that she would succeed, that she would acquire, conquer, and most assuredly plunder.
So when Turkey approached she did so with caution covered by unyielding authority within her stance.
And, in turn, when she saw her approaching, Egypt knew that there was going to be more to this than just a passing glance or snide comment from the sidelines of observation.
Egypt preferred to dance alone, this much was certain. She could perform and in her performance there was a certain level of prudence she was able to uphold due to the threat of prying eyes. Her movements and mannerisms had earned her several partners in the past, most of them unwanted, most of them domineering and desirous of the lead and in her mind she had no doubt that the woman watching her now, so open and arrogant with her voyeurism, was not any different. She could not deny her beauty, and she could not say that she was not charmingly attractive. Though her shoulders were broad, she had a thin face and a slender neck. Jewelry littered her body, bangles upon her wrists and ankles that made the shifting noise of sweet individual song when she shifted her body. It was obvious she was rich, apparent by the gold, the obsidian, and the silver adorning her body were bought by her own two hands, not gifts from another. They were as beautifully crafted as her own body, covered in robes and linens so finely made and woven, fitting her lean form, sliding around her body like a lover hugging the curves of his wife. She was tall though and she was strong, the evidence in muscles of her exposed arms and the movement of her legs, the way she carried herself. It was almost alarming how well she maintained herself, how powerful she looked, sitting there like a lioness, smoke ghosting past parted lips, the shine of her earrings glimmering in the fading light of day. A predator, a beast, wild and untamed brown hair spiraling down to brush over her shoulders, caressing the sides of her face, strands linked with colorful jewels.
Her mask though is what perturbed her the most, sent her off balance at times in the spins and moves of her recital. It was so blank and beyond any normal gaze that she was sure was always watching her, yet the thought of the color and tension behind the simplistic curve of the porcelain sent shivers down her own spine, made her stare endlessly, vain in her attempts to look away, making her wonder and worry.
When she draws near, Egypt tenses but continues to dance, shifting her eyes away from her slowly approaching form, concentrating on her movements, closing her eyes, hiding her amber gaze behind dark lids.
Turkey takes this movement, this simple hiding of her brilliant gaze, as her chance to make a move. She slips in silently, a smirk forming upon the curve of her lips, her bare feet bringing her in closer to the other, until she can feel the heat her body emanating from her dance, from the heat that sinks into the structure that surrounds them. She is close, she can hear her breaths, and she wants to hear more, is yearning to reach out and wrap her fingers around her thin waist, pull her closer, dominate this dance.
She knows she is obsessing but she finds no fault in it. There could be worse things to itch for so violently all you wanted to do was scream.
"Pretty little thing," she whispers, her breath husky as she reaches her side, her feet moving to catch the others speed, reaching out with a graceful arm and running her fingers over the thin cloth that veils her brown hair, so loosely wrapped about the crown of her head. She can see the others shoulders tense, see her actions jerk slightly, her normally loose grasp tighten in onto its self. In receiving no answer, she grabs the scarf about the others head, the pretty silk tucked tightly into her grasp, her free hand trailing upwards to curve along the others bending back. Tucking her head down, she whispers into her ear, keeping her stance close, "dancing so nicely for me."
Egypt moves away, twirling gracefully, the veil about her head tugging and pulling, the fabric slipping, releasing the hidden strands, falling out like a dark cascade from the colorful hold the scarf held it within, trailing her face, slipping down over her shoulders, along her back. She remains silent, she ignores her, she looks away.
She dances for no one but herself.
Turkey lets out a playful laugh, holding the linen she pulled from the others head within her grasp, her own body moving, hips swaying as she moves to the beat, the rhythm, matching the other delightfully well, smirking at the chances the other woman has to throw her off. "You'd look better with a partner," she murmurs, her voice thick with suggestion, her eyes hidden, slipping over the curve of the others body, moving close to her once more, her front to the others back, the sound of the bells and coins upon the others hip, the sounds of the bangles around her own feet making her body want to move more, faster, quicker. She moves her arm, flicking up the fabric of the scarf, moving her other hand to greet it and catching it around the smaller figure's shifting waist, pulling her suddenly, roughly against her, her spine curving delightfully well against her body, shivering when a gasp of air is forced past Egypt's sweet lips.
"I can make you move, I can make your body sing." Turkey presses her lips past brown strands, against the rounded shell of the woman's ear. She receives no answer again, just the quiet, heavy sound of the other woman's heart beating quickly against her own chest, the feeling of her muscles tense. She brings her face down to press into her soft hair, inhaling, taking in the scent of the desert, the rivers, the sun, the sweetly oiled sweat of her body. She whispers again against the curve of the Egyptian's neck. "I can make you so much more than what you are now."
Egypt arches her back, attempting to pull away from the other, her hips entrapped within the hold of the scarf. She narrows her eyes, refusing to turn around, to react to her, refusing to acknowledge her. Her chest rises and falls in steady breaths, already heated and quick from the intensity of her dance. Small beads of sweat travel down her neck, spiraling downward along a hollowed collarbone, amongst golden jewels and further down between her breasts. She can feel Turkey tighten her hold on the fabric, pulling her closer against her, the softness of her body pressed against her back, feeling her breaths upon her ear, dipping into her senses and trying to drown her.
"So quiet," Turkey whispers further, her white teeth nipping at the curve of the others ear, bringing forth a hiss of pain from the smaller woman's lips. She withdraws and grins, those white teeth glinting past dark lips. "I just want to hear your lovely voice." Her own voice softens but holds an alluring and deepening tone, a certain commanding presence in the way her words spill forth. "C'mon now," she states, her grin still present, her hands moving, taking up both ends of the scarf into one of her hands and holding tight as the other tries to slip away the moment the slack of the binding force is released. Her palm trails around her hip and up her stomach from behind, pushing at the toned belly, the arch of her chest and coming up to caress one of her breasts, slipping under the weight of ornaments dangling there, cold against her warm skin.
Egypt gasps, but bites her tongue at the touch, attempting to pull away, bring her hands up to grab at the intruding limbs of the other in retaliation, her body shifting violently to throw the other off of her, her legs trembling slightly, the others words floating into her subconscious, making her feel sick and heated all in one breath. Egypt knows that this is a battle that will have to be done with force and grace combined; this is a dance she will have to regain control of if she is to maintain her stance, as a nation free from Turkey. She moves, twisting in the hold of the scarf now wrapped tightly about her, holding her back.
Turkey's hand slips with her movement, sliding to her back as she moves, her hips arching to pull away, Turkey holding tight and pulling the restraint tighter to stop her there. She forces Egypt to face her, being able to feel her breaths upon her neck and shoulder, the rise and fall of her breasts brushing against her own exposed skin, the chill of the golden jewelry, the sound of the coins in her halted twirl. Turkey can see the flush of her cheeks now, the anger lingering in her eyes, the hate that dwindles there, the yearning for release, to be allowed to fall back into her own dance. She smirks deviously; her free hand shifts to trail fingers down the slim arch of the others spine, feeling the slickness of the skin there, the bareness of it making her shiver.
"So pretty, but so foolish." She pulls her close, snapping her elbow back to tighten her own wrist and make Egypt's body flush with her own, feeling the others hand rise to push her away, her palms flat against her torso, pushing on her chest, trying to pry herself loose. Turkey can only sigh at the contact, a breathless chuckle following the action as her lips part and she speaks, "I'll have you begging for me by the end of this pretty," she threatens, she promises, and it makes Egypt bite her lip and her brows furrow. "I'll have you wet and pleading, like some wanton slut."
Turkey has always aimed for reaction, but it has always been Egypt who has refused her. This time, however, it is different.
Egypt shoves at her, her previous words falling forcefully from her lips, digging those sharp little nails into the flesh of her forearm, making Turkey wince slightly and let out a sharp little moan that tickles the back of her throat. "Feisty," her voice teases, "I like it when you fight back." She lowers her head, dipping her lips down to brush the curve of the woman's throat, nipping at the flesh roughly, pinching the skin between white teeth, trailing downwards, peppering the tanned flesh with forceful kisses. She chuckles when the other bites back a small cry, slipping her trailing hand around to grab cruelly at the strands of gold around her neck, twisting and tightening, keeping her torso, her neck and her hips, close as she moves her legs, dancing her backwards, her hips arching against Egypt's, her lips not stopping in their pursuit. She can feel the smaller struggle, her own feet shifting, attempting to divert the others path the best she can, doing anything to twist out of the rather violent tango she has been placed within.
"That's right pretty, struggle." Turkey nips against her flesh, her voice sharp and authoritative. "Tell me you don't want this!" Her lips trail over the soft skin of the others chest, skipping over the bundle of jewelry her hand grips tightly, her knuckles white. Teeth and lips meet the curve of her breasts, Egypt's breaths coming out in small pants, as if anticipating something, as if breathing can prevent her movements. Turkey smirks. She lets out a soft breath upon the slowly rising tip of one of the nipples, so pleasingly pink and round. She takes it into her mouth and the other stops breathing for a moment, hands still pulling and scratching. Turkey shifts. Her hands busy she relies only upon her mouth, nipping and sucking at the sweet flesh between her teeth, upon her tongue, listening for the other, willing her, moving her, wanting her to stir, to scream, to moan, to gasp, enjoying the way her nails bite against her skin, prickling the surface, making her flesh ache.
Egypt gives nothing to her, but shuts her eyes, hiding her amber gaze, her brown furrowing as she struggles desperately, her chest heaving in attempts to divert the others lips which are doing so well at making her squirm, bend, and arch, her feet stumbling in the process. Only the others hands upon her necklaces and cinched around the cloth about her hips keep her from falling. Her back arches as Turkey bends her, her lips pulling away slowly, worrying the tightening flesh between her teeth, feeling the other tremble against her. Her dark gaze opens from beneath her mask, a gaze that Egypt sees as unblinking, a constant, present stare upon her. "I think you're lying to me." Her voice puffs forth against the mound of her breast, flicking her tongue out to caress the standing nipple, making the other shutter and open her eyes, her lips holding tight, keeping sounds from escaping the vocal muscles of her bowed throat. Turkey dips her body back, arching her spine, her own body pressing against hers as they still stand stand, waiting for the others legs to give out. Egypt brings her arms up though, nails digging violently into the curve of the others neck, wrapping tightly around wild brown hair that comes into her reach, tugging sharply, making Turkey cry out softly with rising pain mixed into the heat of pleasure that soaks into her blood. She ignores the rebellion, keeping her hold.
"I think you want this." She moans as she trails her lips down the arch of her stomach, dragging her tongue down the flesh, her hand still around the jewels, her other releasing the cloth, letting it fall between them, ghosting over Egypt's skin smoothly as it falls before settling on the ground. Her freed hand moved quickly, the arm wrapping around her waist, keeping her stable and moving her lips downwards, her hand slipping around, ducking between folds of fabric and coins, small bells hanging around her waist. She presses her fingers downwards, slipping amongst moist folds of the others hot sex, her smirk growing ten fold.
"I think you want this very much."
Turkey moves swiftly, pulling the other up and tearing away her hand from the lips of the others sex, rising up and pulling the other with her, looking down the bridge of her nose, her sharp teeth showing through her grin. "You want me to fuck you baby?" she purrs as she leans forward, feeling the others feet stable and her back straight, attempting to move her, but only in vain. Egypt lifts her head to meet the others gaze as she looks down at her, watching the words spill past her lips. She holds her breath then releases it, spitting upon the porcelain white of the others face, her brows set in a defiant slits. Turkey pauses, then laughs, bringing her hand up to run along the wetness slicking the perfect exterior of the mask, trailing into the saliva and pulling it back before bringing it to her own lips, opening her mouth and sticking out her tongue to caress her own fingers, tasting the others efforts, her disrespect, her failure to submit without a fight.
"I'm taking that as a yes," Turkey replies soon after, smirking and releasing the beads of gold around her neck, moving her body, grasping her shoulder and waist and spinning her gracefully, the movement of the jewelry and cloth combining in a montage of color and light. Moving her leg out, she places it behind her, tripping Egypt and holding her firm, moving and laying her back none too nicely onto the cushioned covered seating at the room's perimeter, moving her hand to press down onto her chest roughly, holding her there, admiring the way the sun filters past the drapes tucked around the ornate windows, how the colors of the sun and fabrics of the pillows stood out upon her tanned skin, the halo of brown hair surrounding her face.
She looks like a goddess to Turkey. Her face flushed and eyes lidded, her brow set so sternly, her lips in a determined scowl though her breaths are harsh. Her hair is askew, the jewelry upon her body no longer working as a cover, falling about her breasts, some catching on the mounds, the others falling to the side of her, under her arms. The cloth around her waist sprawls out helplessly amongst her twisted legs, spread so delightfully, just enough for her to see the curve of her sex, the curls of soft brown that cover the delicate pink beneath. She is brilliant for that silent moment until she moves again, snapping her leg up, moving her arms to lash out, snatching at Turkey's arm, attempting to slide it from her chest, twisting the flesh and scratching viciously, her other hand wrapping around the fabric around her neck, attempting to move her, to move her of all people. Egypt should know better, she thinks. Egypt should be wary of what she does because for every action, there is her reaction and Turkey is very, very fond of reacting.
Her hands move as swiftly as Egypt's, pressing her palm further down, forcing the air from the others decorated throat, her other hand moving to her own hips and drawing forth a shimmering blade, curved and wicked, bringing it to the the others neck, pressing right up against her jugular. She could feel the other immediately still and loosen her hold, dropping her leg slowly, the bottom of her foot sliding along the silken surface of the cloth below them.
"There now. That's better," Turkey whispers, her mouth turned upwards into a mocking grin, eyes burning past the blank stare of her mask, watching Egypt's face contort, still so full of anger and fight. It makes her tremble delightfully, knowing she holds this power, knowing that there is nothing down the other can do without spilling her own blood and Turkey silently wonders how far she is willing to resist, if she is willing to push her to that point where she needs to cut her and witness the heated crimson slip past rendered flesh.
Turkey moves her face down close to the others, letting her warm breath, still thick with the smell of shisha, warm Egypt's lips, watching her face. "I'm going to make you scream so loudly you'll want to rip out your lungs from the pain," she slowly speaks, her lips hovering, brushing ever so slightly above the others. "I'm going to make you come so hard for me you'll get wet every time I cross your mind." She laughs softly, bringing her free hand up to wrap around soft brown strands of the others hair, rubbing the smoothness between her fingertips. "How do you feel about this, mm?" She flicks her tongue out to caress her lower lip, enjoying the smooth, moist feeling of her, wanting so much more but holding back.
"I'm going to own you Egypt." She smirks, the curve of her lips nearly deadly before she pushes forward against the others mouth, crushing her lips against hers and with swift action reaching out to bite down harshly on the flesh of others lip, drawing blood to the surface, sucking on it forcefully before pulling away and thrusting her tongue inside the heated cavern of her mouth, feeling the others teeth bite down, hard, making her wince and withdraw, looking down with an angry hiss and pushing the blade up a little more into the curve of her throat. "Little bitch!" she hisses and brings the hand upon her chest up to backhand her across the face, enjoying the satisfying noise of the others skin meeting the knuckles of her hand, watching her eyes widen and hear a cry spill forth from her lips.
It makes her warm, the feeling of the pain in her mouth, the sensation of her hand being brought so callously to her face, and she can feel the heat collecting between her legs. She brings one hand down, slipping it over her own body and dipping between folds of fabric to caress herself, a small moan catching in her throat as she watches Egypt watching her, her mouth parting, her breaths hitching. Pulling her fingers up she sees how the wetness clings to them and she grins, spreading them apart, watching the heat spread from one digit to another as she brings them to the others lips, pressing them forward.
"Suck," she commands and Egypt does nothing, only clenching her teeth tighter. Turkey chuckles and spreads her two fingers, pushing them forcefully into the sides of the others mouth, sliding amongst her teeth and tugging behind her molars, forcing her mouth apart and thrusting her fingers forward, watching as the woman beneath her shuts her eyes and squirms, arching her neck backwards to no avail. "Taste good, lovely?" she teases, running her index finger along the top of her mouth, forcing her heat upon her. She withdraws her fingers slowly, watching slick line of her own arousal and Egypt's saliva stain her lips, dragging them down her chin, down the side of her neck, loving the way the fluid makes a delightful track upon her skin. It leaves Egypt panting, gasping breaths filling her lungs, making her chest rise and fall, her legs tremble and shake. Turkey brings a finger to tilt her head back more, exposing the hollow of her throat, licking her own lips delightfully. "Spread your legs for me won't you?" she purrs, her tone thick and wanting, her body heated and yearning to feel more of the other, hear her voice, dammit, just her give in, hear her scream!
Egypt lets her legs fall to the side, but only in the scant inch that makes the other frustrated, her hand gripping the blade tighter, her arm shaking slightly as she narrows her gaze severely beneath the cover of her mask. She knows that Egypt wants this, she can see it in her lidded gaze, she can hear it in her breaths, the way they push past without pain but with a need for more; the way her face is flushed so delightfully right now, and all Turkey can think about is how heated her body can get, how much can she make her shake? She wants her to want this and in the name of God she is going to have her begging.
Her free hand slides away from her chin and down her body, shifting herself to lay upon her hip, her head dipping down, her lips ghosting over the wet line that coats the flesh of her throat, taking it in and biting down possessively. Her fingers playing and pushing at the skin of her chest, her belly, her hips, slipping down and around the covering of cloth and kneading into the soft brown hair protecting her. Her lips pull away for a moment to breathlessly speak, "You're a stubborn little whore, know that? You could give in now and save yourself from the embarrassment of me proving you wrong." Her fingers tease the outer folds of her sex, tips of her index and pointer running around the soft outer curve, her thumb pushing downwards. Her mouth covers her skin again, sucking softly and kissing in quick patterns down to her shoulder, biting on the skin there, her teeth pushing at the muscle, making the other cringe and arch her back so delightfully off the ground, unable to push away from the lingering blade so cold against her skin.
Egypt feels her hips arch unwillingly into the hand of the other, a flush rising to her cheeks as she attempts to fight the rising urge within her body for completion, the desire to be touched, to be wanted and coveted and owned. The jewels on her hips sound, making it a certain fact that she is moving for her, that she is wanting this and in hesitation she presses her hips into the ground again, begging internally for the other to stop, stop making her want to rock her hips so steadily against her palm, to feel her fingers deep within her. Egypt wants no part of this, but her body betrays her, shaking as her lungs tighten and her heart rate increases at the prospect of fulfillment.
"Don't fight it," Turkey whispers against her heating skin, abusing the flesh with her teeth, tugging and pulling, her hand slipping further, fingers spreading her sex apart, the air feeling chilled compared to the heat she emits. "You still have a chance to tell me you want this before I prove you dead wrong." She chuckles, dragging her tongue across slick tan skin, the movement causing a gasp to rise from Egypt's throat. She refuses, she does not say a word, she opens her eyes and stares up at the other in a defiant stare, still so strong even as she is slowly consumed by the blood boiling feeling of a shameful lust. Turkey watches her for a moment and then grins, her features dark and domineering, parting her lips and whispering, her tone husky, "…Suit yourself". It is then she slides her fingers further, tucking them into the folds of the others sex and feeling them consumed in the thick, wet heat that has collected there, making her body flush and her throat bring forth a delightful moan. Her thumb joins her fingers, pressing into the flesh, slick, soaked with the wetness, the moist lubricant of sexual necessity.
A praise rises from her throat and a withheld sigh forcefully passes between Egypt's lips, her eyes shutting tightly, her brows furrowing together, making up for the lack of sound, for the moans that Turkey yearns so badly to hear. This is her reaction and gods be praised it is good enough for her. For right now she can watch her face contort and know she is winning this battle, that this dance has become her ground and she is now fully and utterly in charge. She moves her hand and watches the other arch her back, feeling her heat increase, slipping her fingers down into the center of her wetness and pushing forward, her eyes gazing past the confines of her mask, watching her lips part open in a delightful silent scream of pleasure, feeling her hands shake and dig into the cushions below them. Watching her, watching her react, watching her feel a passion only Turkey can draw forth.
She brings her thumb up and pushes down, searching for that brilliant nub of flesh, circling when she finds it, watching the other writhe and gasp, feeling her sex tighten down around her fingers, moving them and spreading them within her, enjoying the slick feeling of the heat coating her hand as she works the other, aiming to push her over the edge. Her voice spills forth, her own breaths catching, the lust of the moment affecting her, making her want to scream, lower the blade and touch herself, feeling her own fingers moving in tandem with her own inside her trembling lover below her. "You're so wet, so fucking wet," she moans, her voice limned with warmth, with heat, with power. "And it's all for me pretty, it's all because of me, because you know that now I know," she whispers, catching her breath. "I know you want this, I know you want me and from here on out you know what I can do to you, how I can move you, how with my control you thrive and warm and fuck, Egypt!" She growls, biting the skin of the others flesh sharply before pulling away, listening to the delightfully perfect cry that finally echoes from the others lungs.
"You have given in and now you will not be able to stop me. Every time I get near you your body will deceive you because past that fucking impassive stare of yours you want all of this!" she snaps. Egypt pants, her breasts rising and falling, the ornate ornaments around her neck shifting and falling about her flesh, her straight hair tangled, the sound of the jewels around her hips like a natural and lewd music.
"You'll never be able to stop me from having you!" Turkey declares, her breath forcefully passing from her lungs as her hand moves, thumb pressing down on that right spot, that spot right there andohgodfuckyesplease she watches Egypt's body squirm and arch violently upwards, her hips unconsciously rocking into her hand and finally that sound vibrates from the others throat. That deep, wanton moan that makes Turkey go dizzy for a moment, makes her head spin and her hand speed its actions, driving her forward, aiming to shove her, push her, trip her over that edge of resolve. "Yes," she whispers desperately, "Yes pretty." She moans as well, watching the other bite her lip, arch her head back into the colorful fabrics.
Egypt is not prone to begging, she is not used to needing someone so badly she would cry for it, but right now she cannot help it and she cannot fathom why her breaths and words claim this want, this need for release, the tension in her body screaming at her to let go and she in turn relays the message, hesitating but nonetheless letting those words pass her lips.
"Please," she moans.
"Please!" she begs.
And Turkey smirks, gods above she smirks, because she knows she has won this, that this is her victory. Listening to the others voice, her breaths, her cries of pleasure she stops her movements and slowly withdraws her hand from the addicting heat of the other, feeling the wetness trail outward, down her own fingers and slipping down onto her hand and wrist, and she listens still as the other lets out a strangled cry, the loss of her hand making her shake, tremble.
"No," Turkey replies, bringing her hand up and running her tongue along the sweet wetness of the other clinging to her fingers, mocking as Egypt's eyes search her face desperately, betrayal and shame in her amber gaze. Turkey stands and smiles down at her, withdrawing the blade like she did her fingers and turning, walking away from here, leaving Egypt there and grinning the entire way. She knows that leaving her will make things easier, that leaving her there will be beneficial no matter how much it pains how own needs to do so. She knows this is for the best and it sends a delightful shiver down her spine to know she has brought her to pleading voices and such beautiful desperation.
Turkey knows she has won.
And laying there, panting, her eyes hazed over, her chest rising and falling erratically, the heat between her legs wet, lingering, and unfulfilled, Egypt knows that she has been beaten not just by Turkey, but by herself.
THIS! Um, I don't know if I have the words! So much of this was so incredibly hot! And Turkey is a bitch! And I love her. And Egypt...poooooor Egypt!!!
I really adore them together, I think! No matter their form! XD
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REQUEST #1; [2/9]
(Anonymous) 2009-01-05 09:41 am (UTC)(link)So when Turkey approached she did so with caution covered by unyielding authority within her stance.
And, in turn, when she saw her approaching, Egypt knew that there was going to be more to this than just a passing glance or snide comment from the sidelines of observation.
Egypt preferred to dance alone, this much was certain. She could perform and in her performance there was a certain level of prudence she was able to uphold due to the threat of prying eyes. Her movements and mannerisms had earned her several partners in the past, most of them unwanted, most of them domineering and desirous of the lead and in her mind she had no doubt that the woman watching her now, so open and arrogant with her voyeurism, was not any different. She could not deny her beauty, and she could not say that she was not charmingly attractive. Though her shoulders were broad, she had a thin face and a slender neck. Jewelry littered her body, bangles upon her wrists and ankles that made the shifting noise of sweet individual song when she shifted her body. It was obvious she was rich, apparent by the gold, the obsidian, and the silver adorning her body were bought by her own two hands, not gifts from another. They were as beautifully crafted as her own body, covered in robes and linens so finely made and woven, fitting her lean form, sliding around her body like a lover hugging the curves of his wife. She was tall though and she was strong, the evidence in muscles of her exposed arms and the movement of her legs, the way she carried herself. It was almost alarming how well she maintained herself, how powerful she looked, sitting there like a lioness, smoke ghosting past parted lips, the shine of her earrings glimmering in the fading light of day. A predator, a beast, wild and untamed brown hair spiraling down to brush over her shoulders, caressing the sides of her face, strands linked with colorful jewels.
Her mask though is what perturbed her the most, sent her off balance at times in the spins and moves of her recital. It was so blank and beyond any normal gaze that she was sure was always watching her, yet the thought of the color and tension behind the simplistic curve of the porcelain sent shivers down her own spine, made her stare endlessly, vain in her attempts to look away, making her wonder and worry.
When she draws near, Egypt tenses but continues to dance, shifting her eyes away from her slowly approaching form, concentrating on her movements, closing her eyes, hiding her amber gaze behind dark lids.
Turkey takes this movement, this simple hiding of her brilliant gaze, as her chance to make a move. She slips in silently, a smirk forming upon the curve of her lips, her bare feet bringing her in closer to the other, until she can feel the heat her body emanating from her dance, from the heat that sinks into the structure that surrounds them. She is close, she can hear her breaths, and she wants to hear more, is yearning to reach out and wrap her fingers around her thin waist, pull her closer, dominate this dance.
REQUEST #1; [3/9]
(Anonymous) 2009-01-05 09:42 am (UTC)(link)"Pretty little thing," she whispers, her breath husky as she reaches her side, her feet moving to catch the others speed, reaching out with a graceful arm and running her fingers over the thin cloth that veils her brown hair, so loosely wrapped about the crown of her head. She can see the others shoulders tense, see her actions jerk slightly, her normally loose grasp tighten in onto its self. In receiving no answer, she grabs the scarf about the others head, the pretty silk tucked tightly into her grasp, her free hand trailing upwards to curve along the others bending back. Tucking her head down, she whispers into her ear, keeping her stance close, "dancing so nicely for me."
Egypt moves away, twirling gracefully, the veil about her head tugging and pulling, the fabric slipping, releasing the hidden strands, falling out like a dark cascade from the colorful hold the scarf held it within, trailing her face, slipping down over her shoulders, along her back. She remains silent, she ignores her, she looks away.
She dances for no one but herself.
Turkey lets out a playful laugh, holding the linen she pulled from the others head within her grasp, her own body moving, hips swaying as she moves to the beat, the rhythm, matching the other delightfully well, smirking at the chances the other woman has to throw her off. "You'd look better with a partner," she murmurs, her voice thick with suggestion, her eyes hidden, slipping over the curve of the others body, moving close to her once more, her front to the others back, the sound of the bells and coins upon the others hip, the sounds of the bangles around her own feet making her body want to move more, faster, quicker. She moves her arm, flicking up the fabric of the scarf, moving her other hand to greet it and catching it around the smaller figure's shifting waist, pulling her suddenly, roughly against her, her spine curving delightfully well against her body, shivering when a gasp of air is forced past Egypt's sweet lips.
"I can make you move, I can make your body sing." Turkey presses her lips past brown strands, against the rounded shell of the woman's ear. She receives no answer again, just the quiet, heavy sound of the other woman's heart beating quickly against her own chest, the feeling of her muscles tense. She brings her face down to press into her soft hair, inhaling, taking in the scent of the desert, the rivers, the sun, the sweetly oiled sweat of her body. She whispers again against the curve of the Egyptian's neck. "I can make you so much more than what you are now."
Egypt arches her back, attempting to pull away from the other, her hips entrapped within the hold of the scarf. She narrows her eyes, refusing to turn around, to react to her, refusing to acknowledge her. Her chest rises and falls in steady breaths, already heated and quick from the intensity of her dance. Small beads of sweat travel down her neck, spiraling downward along a hollowed collarbone, amongst golden jewels and further down between her breasts. She can feel Turkey tighten her hold on the fabric, pulling her closer against her, the softness of her body pressed against her back, feeling her breaths upon her ear, dipping into her senses and trying to drown her.
"So quiet," Turkey whispers further, her white teeth nipping at the curve of the others ear, bringing forth a hiss of pain from the smaller woman's lips. She withdraws and grins, those white teeth glinting past dark lips. "I just want to hear your lovely voice." Her own voice softens but holds an alluring and deepening tone, a certain commanding presence in the way her words spill forth. "C'mon now," she states, her grin still present, her hands moving, taking up both ends of the scarf into one of her hands and holding tight as the other tries to slip away the moment the slack of the binding force is released. Her palm trails around her hip and up her stomach from behind, pushing at the toned belly, the arch of her chest and coming up to caress one of her breasts, slipping under the weight of ornaments dangling there, cold against her warm skin.
"Moan for me."
REQUEST #1; [4/9]
(Anonymous) 2009-01-05 09:43 am (UTC)(link)Turkey's hand slips with her movement, sliding to her back as she moves, her hips arching to pull away, Turkey holding tight and pulling the restraint tighter to stop her there. She forces Egypt to face her, being able to feel her breaths upon her neck and shoulder, the rise and fall of her breasts brushing against her own exposed skin, the chill of the golden jewelry, the sound of the coins in her halted twirl. Turkey can see the flush of her cheeks now, the anger lingering in her eyes, the hate that dwindles there, the yearning for release, to be allowed to fall back into her own dance. She smirks deviously; her free hand shifts to trail fingers down the slim arch of the others spine, feeling the slickness of the skin there, the bareness of it making her shiver.
"So pretty, but so foolish." She pulls her close, snapping her elbow back to tighten her own wrist and make Egypt's body flush with her own, feeling the others hand rise to push her away, her palms flat against her torso, pushing on her chest, trying to pry herself loose. Turkey can only sigh at the contact, a breathless chuckle following the action as her lips part and she speaks, "I'll have you begging for me by the end of this pretty," she threatens, she promises, and it makes Egypt bite her lip and her brows furrow. "I'll have you wet and pleading, like some wanton slut."
Turkey has always aimed for reaction, but it has always been Egypt who has refused her. This time, however, it is different.
Egypt shoves at her, her previous words falling forcefully from her lips, digging those sharp little nails into the flesh of her forearm, making Turkey wince slightly and let out a sharp little moan that tickles the back of her throat. "Feisty," her voice teases, "I like it when you fight back." She lowers her head, dipping her lips down to brush the curve of the woman's throat, nipping at the flesh roughly, pinching the skin between white teeth, trailing downwards, peppering the tanned flesh with forceful kisses. She chuckles when the other bites back a small cry, slipping her trailing hand around to grab cruelly at the strands of gold around her neck, twisting and tightening, keeping her torso, her neck and her hips, close as she moves her legs, dancing her backwards, her hips arching against Egypt's, her lips not stopping in their pursuit. She can feel the smaller struggle, her own feet shifting, attempting to divert the others path the best she can, doing anything to twist out of the rather violent tango she has been placed within.
"That's right pretty, struggle." Turkey nips against her flesh, her voice sharp and authoritative. "Tell me you don't want this!" Her lips trail over the soft skin of the others chest, skipping over the bundle of jewelry her hand grips tightly, her knuckles white. Teeth and lips meet the curve of her breasts, Egypt's breaths coming out in small pants, as if anticipating something, as if breathing can prevent her movements. Turkey smirks. She lets out a soft breath upon the slowly rising tip of one of the nipples, so pleasingly pink and round. She takes it into her mouth and the other stops breathing for a moment, hands still pulling and scratching. Turkey shifts. Her hands busy she relies only upon her mouth, nipping and sucking at the sweet flesh between her teeth, upon her tongue, listening for the other, willing her, moving her, wanting her to stir, to scream, to moan, to gasp, enjoying the way her nails bite against her skin, prickling the surface, making her flesh ache.
REQUEST #1; [5/9]
(Anonymous) 2009-01-05 09:43 am (UTC)(link)"I think you want this." She moans as she trails her lips down the arch of her stomach, dragging her tongue down the flesh, her hand still around the jewels, her other releasing the cloth, letting it fall between them, ghosting over Egypt's skin smoothly as it falls before settling on the ground. Her freed hand moved quickly, the arm wrapping around her waist, keeping her stable and moving her lips downwards, her hand slipping around, ducking between folds of fabric and coins, small bells hanging around her waist. She presses her fingers downwards, slipping amongst moist folds of the others hot sex, her smirk growing ten fold.
"I think you want this very much."
Turkey moves swiftly, pulling the other up and tearing away her hand from the lips of the others sex, rising up and pulling the other with her, looking down the bridge of her nose, her sharp teeth showing through her grin. "You want me to fuck you baby?" she purrs as she leans forward, feeling the others feet stable and her back straight, attempting to move her, but only in vain. Egypt lifts her head to meet the others gaze as she looks down at her, watching the words spill past her lips. She holds her breath then releases it, spitting upon the porcelain white of the others face, her brows set in a defiant slits. Turkey pauses, then laughs, bringing her hand up to run along the wetness slicking the perfect exterior of the mask, trailing into the saliva and pulling it back before bringing it to her own lips, opening her mouth and sticking out her tongue to caress her own fingers, tasting the others efforts, her disrespect, her failure to submit without a fight.
"I'm taking that as a yes," Turkey replies soon after, smirking and releasing the beads of gold around her neck, moving her body, grasping her shoulder and waist and spinning her gracefully, the movement of the jewelry and cloth combining in a montage of color and light. Moving her leg out, she places it behind her, tripping Egypt and holding her firm, moving and laying her back none too nicely onto the cushioned covered seating at the room's perimeter, moving her hand to press down onto her chest roughly, holding her there, admiring the way the sun filters past the drapes tucked around the ornate windows, how the colors of the sun and fabrics of the pillows stood out upon her tanned skin, the halo of brown hair surrounding her face.
REQUEST #1; [6/9]
(Anonymous) 2009-01-05 09:44 am (UTC)(link)Her hands move as swiftly as Egypt's, pressing her palm further down, forcing the air from the others decorated throat, her other hand moving to her own hips and drawing forth a shimmering blade, curved and wicked, bringing it to the the others neck, pressing right up against her jugular. She could feel the other immediately still and loosen her hold, dropping her leg slowly, the bottom of her foot sliding along the silken surface of the cloth below them.
"There now. That's better," Turkey whispers, her mouth turned upwards into a mocking grin, eyes burning past the blank stare of her mask, watching Egypt's face contort, still so full of anger and fight. It makes her tremble delightfully, knowing she holds this power, knowing that there is nothing down the other can do without spilling her own blood and Turkey silently wonders how far she is willing to resist, if she is willing to push her to that point where she needs to cut her and witness the heated crimson slip past rendered flesh.
Turkey moves her face down close to the others, letting her warm breath, still thick with the smell of shisha, warm Egypt's lips, watching her face. "I'm going to make you scream so loudly you'll want to rip out your lungs from the pain," she slowly speaks, her lips hovering, brushing ever so slightly above the others. "I'm going to make you come so hard for me you'll get wet every time I cross your mind." She laughs softly, bringing her free hand up to wrap around soft brown strands of the others hair, rubbing the smoothness between her fingertips. "How do you feel about this, mm?" She flicks her tongue out to caress her lower lip, enjoying the smooth, moist feeling of her, wanting so much more but holding back.
"I'm going to own you Egypt." She smirks, the curve of her lips nearly deadly before she pushes forward against the others mouth, crushing her lips against hers and with swift action reaching out to bite down harshly on the flesh of others lip, drawing blood to the surface, sucking on it forcefully before pulling away and thrusting her tongue inside the heated cavern of her mouth, feeling the others teeth bite down, hard, making her wince and withdraw, looking down with an angry hiss and pushing the blade up a little more into the curve of her throat. "Little bitch!" she hisses and brings the hand upon her chest up to backhand her across the face, enjoying the satisfying noise of the others skin meeting the knuckles of her hand, watching her eyes widen and hear a cry spill forth from her lips.
It makes her warm, the feeling of the pain in her mouth, the sensation of her hand being brought so callously to her face, and she can feel the heat collecting between her legs. She brings one hand down, slipping it over her own body and dipping between folds of fabric to caress herself, a small moan catching in her throat as she watches Egypt watching her, her mouth parting, her breaths hitching. Pulling her fingers up she sees how the wetness clings to them and she grins, spreading them apart, watching the heat spread from one digit to another as she brings them to the others lips, pressing them forward.
REQUEST #1; [7/9]
(Anonymous) 2009-01-05 09:45 am (UTC)(link)Egypt lets her legs fall to the side, but only in the scant inch that makes the other frustrated, her hand gripping the blade tighter, her arm shaking slightly as she narrows her gaze severely beneath the cover of her mask. She knows that Egypt wants this, she can see it in her lidded gaze, she can hear it in her breaths, the way they push past without pain but with a need for more; the way her face is flushed so delightfully right now, and all Turkey can think about is how heated her body can get, how much can she make her shake? She wants her to want this and in the name of God she is going to have her begging.
Her free hand slides away from her chin and down her body, shifting herself to lay upon her hip, her head dipping down, her lips ghosting over the wet line that coats the flesh of her throat, taking it in and biting down possessively. Her fingers playing and pushing at the skin of her chest, her belly, her hips, slipping down and around the covering of cloth and kneading into the soft brown hair protecting her. Her lips pull away for a moment to breathlessly speak, "You're a stubborn little whore, know that? You could give in now and save yourself from the embarrassment of me proving you wrong." Her fingers tease the outer folds of her sex, tips of her index and pointer running around the soft outer curve, her thumb pushing downwards. Her mouth covers her skin again, sucking softly and kissing in quick patterns down to her shoulder, biting on the skin there, her teeth pushing at the muscle, making the other cringe and arch her back so delightfully off the ground, unable to push away from the lingering blade so cold against her skin.
Egypt feels her hips arch unwillingly into the hand of the other, a flush rising to her cheeks as she attempts to fight the rising urge within her body for completion, the desire to be touched, to be wanted and coveted and owned. The jewels on her hips sound, making it a certain fact that she is moving for her, that she is wanting this and in hesitation she presses her hips into the ground again, begging internally for the other to stop, stop making her want to rock her hips so steadily against her palm, to feel her fingers deep within her. Egypt wants no part of this, but her body betrays her, shaking as her lungs tighten and her heart rate increases at the prospect of fulfillment.
REQUEST #1; [8/9]
(Anonymous) 2009-01-05 09:46 am (UTC)(link)A praise rises from her throat and a withheld sigh forcefully passes between Egypt's lips, her eyes shutting tightly, her brows furrowing together, making up for the lack of sound, for the moans that Turkey yearns so badly to hear. This is her reaction and gods be praised it is good enough for her. For right now she can watch her face contort and know she is winning this battle, that this dance has become her ground and she is now fully and utterly in charge. She moves her hand and watches the other arch her back, feeling her heat increase, slipping her fingers down into the center of her wetness and pushing forward, her eyes gazing past the confines of her mask, watching her lips part open in a delightful silent scream of pleasure, feeling her hands shake and dig into the cushions below them. Watching her, watching her react, watching her feel a passion only Turkey can draw forth.
She brings her thumb up and pushes down, searching for that brilliant nub of flesh, circling when she finds it, watching the other writhe and gasp, feeling her sex tighten down around her fingers, moving them and spreading them within her, enjoying the slick feeling of the heat coating her hand as she works the other, aiming to push her over the edge. Her voice spills forth, her own breaths catching, the lust of the moment affecting her, making her want to scream, lower the blade and touch herself, feeling her own fingers moving in tandem with her own inside her trembling lover below her. "You're so wet, so fucking wet," she moans, her voice limned with warmth, with heat, with power. "And it's all for me pretty, it's all because of me, because you know that now I know," she whispers, catching her breath. "I know you want this, I know you want me and from here on out you know what I can do to you, how I can move you, how with my control you thrive and warm and fuck, Egypt!" She growls, biting the skin of the others flesh sharply before pulling away, listening to the delightfully perfect cry that finally echoes from the others lungs.
"You have given in and now you will not be able to stop me. Every time I get near you your body will deceive you because past that fucking impassive stare of yours you want all of this!" she snaps. Egypt pants, her breasts rising and falling, the ornate ornaments around her neck shifting and falling about her flesh, her straight hair tangled, the sound of the jewels around her hips like a natural and lewd music.
REQUEST #1; [9/9]
(Anonymous) 2009-01-05 09:46 am (UTC)(link)Egypt is not prone to begging, she is not used to needing someone so badly she would cry for it, but right now she cannot help it and she cannot fathom why her breaths and words claim this want, this need for release, the tension in her body screaming at her to let go and she in turn relays the message, hesitating but nonetheless letting those words pass her lips.
"Please," she moans.
"Please!" she begs.
And Turkey smirks, gods above she smirks, because she knows she has won this, that this is her victory. Listening to the others voice, her breaths, her cries of pleasure she stops her movements and slowly withdraws her hand from the addicting heat of the other, feeling the wetness trail outward, down her own fingers and slipping down onto her hand and wrist, and she listens still as the other lets out a strangled cry, the loss of her hand making her shake, tremble.
REQUEST #1; [10/9] S.M.R.T!
(Anonymous) 2009-01-05 09:52 am (UTC)(link)Turkey knows she has won.
And laying there, panting, her eyes hazed over, her chest rising and falling erratically, the heat between her legs wet, lingering, and unfulfilled, Egypt knows that she has been beaten not just by Turkey, but by herself.
Re: REQUEST #1; [10/9] S.M.R.T!
(Anonymous) 2009-01-05 07:21 pm (UTC)(link)I really adore them together, I think! No matter their form! XD
Love the end, btw. Really fucking cruel!
Re: REQUEST #1; [10/9] S.M.R.T!
(Anonymous) 2009-01-05 09:54 pm (UTC)(link)never stop filling <33333
Re: REQUEST #1; [10/9] S.M.R.T!
(Anonymous) 2009-01-07 05:37 am (UTC)(link)Re: REQUEST #1; [10/9] S.M.R.T!
(Anonymous) 2009-01-28 01:00 am (UTC)(link)But seriously, this is definitely one of the best fills here.
Re: REQUEST #1; [10/9] S.M.R.T!
(Anonymous) 2009-01-28 02:03 am (UTC)(link)