In Search Of The Water [Japikoa]

[Nala]

She clung to Japikoa, her body rising and falling as they danced their duet in the tent. Her legs tightened and relaxed, her hips arching and twisting. When they rested together, Nala caressed her mate's copper skin, feeling her lithe, cat-like muscles moving beneath it. Despite the cooling evening air, Nala's whole body felt like it was on fire, and fire licked at her skin with every passing instant. Her own body glistened with sweat, and the satisfaction, pleasure, and peace gave her a rosy glow.

At Japikoa's promise, Nala reached to kiss her, propping herself up on her elbows, only to stop and watch the Chevas mark forming there, unfurling like a flower in the sunshine, gold and blue-tinged silver. She knew instinctively what the blue was. The silver-blue was for water, for her. The flowers and vines she did not recognize, but had no doubt they were of the desert, just as they were; and that they signified resiliency. Survival. That was Japikoa. The warm touch on her neck, and the way Japikoa's dark eyes were riveted to her told her that without any doubt, Cheva had heard their promises to each other, and blessed them for it. It was a bit of divine reassurance of what Nala knew was right was right.

The Benshira's light garments came off easily, a tie here, a tie there, and everything, from her undergarments to her skirt, shawl, and blouse were discarded in mere moments. The chorus of bells remained, singing a new rhythm as she reached to pull off Japikoa's breastband and the short skirt she wore. Those joined Nala's clothes to the side as she stretched out, arching her torso before snuggling back down, completely exposed to her new spouse, and she felt no shame or embarrassment in it whatsoever. She smiled up at her almost shyly, the faintest colour rising in her cheeks. She lifted a hand, reaching to touch Japikoa's lips and cheek. She seemed to have regained a bit of her coherency, albeit not much. "Mine," she agreed huskily, her wandering fingers moving slowly downwards along her partner's side, her fingertips ghosting along the Chaktawe's breast and then over her ribcage. Her eyes never left hers. "And yours. Always yours."

When Japikoa buried herself between Nala's splayed legs and her lips found the bell - and the copper ring it was attached to at the top of her cleft - Nala saw stars. She was utterly soaked, her thighs glistening with moisture. Her fingers found the Chaktawe's hair, and her nails raked ever so slightly over her scalp as she ran her fingers through it before tugging, none too hard, on the black locks. She drew one shuddering breath after another, her body arching of its own accord, pressing her hips upwards. The more the ring was toyed with, the faster Nala's breath came and went, and before long, she was beginning to make high-pitched gasping noises, inasmuch as she was trying to be quiet. A few tugs more, and Nala was screaming with pleasure, yowling like a cat in heat as she gushed like a geyser. Her chest was heaving as she panted, her hands releasing Japikoa's silky black locks, only to stroke and brush them lazily, her body going on autopilot.

So out of it was the teenager that she paid no attention to a pair of younger scouts who had come to investigate - Nala had, without a doubt, made quite a ruckus. They stared at the pair, looking at the utterly demolished Benshira, and then at the Suli warrior. "Is everything...?" one of them asked Japikoa in Tawna. Nala certainly hadn't sounded fine, and she looked like she might pass out now, though not for the reasons the scouts might have thought she would as she lay there in a daze.

[Japikoa]

Japikoa gave Nala everything - lips and tongue and hands and soul, every touch, every taste, there was nothing she held back. One hand flattened against her hip and held her down, though she loved every writhing movement her lover made. Knew it meant her pleasure, knew that each wild yank of her hair wasn't to draw her away or stop her, but to encourage her. And she was encouraged. She growled and panted right along with her, nails digging into moistened thighs, and when Nala's body convulsed she thought she might suffocate and didn't care - she wanted it to last forever, this beauty and the music of her voice screaming in pleasure. It had to end, though, and she purred a little as she licked the taste of her from her lips. It was then that she heard one of the scouts. She'd left the back wall of the tent rolled up, not realizing what was to happen, uncaring once it'd begun. Now, like a predator over it's kill, she lifted her head to lock black eyes with the boy. Lips pulled back and she gave a feral hiss of warning. "Get out of here!" she growled in Tawna. The boys flinched and scrambled away as if they'd found a lion in the tent. She paid them no more attention, leveraging herself up on her flattened palms and slithering up the length of Nala's body. Her own dark skin slid against her lover's until she could trail her lips against the new brand on her throat. "I love you, I," she whispered into her ear, lips brushing against her skin. "Others will say I cannot, because I do not know you. But I do," she murmured, and her lips claimed Nala's mouth again, the taste of sex still layered on her tongue. When she lifted her head again, a gentle smile twisted her mouth. Long fingers crept up, still damp, and threaded into those thick, wavy curls. And then she laughed - sultry and low. "And you are beautiful, Nala. I have never seen anything like this bell you have, you, but I'm quite fond of how it makes you twitch and flush."

[Nala]

She was stirred into some measure of wakefulness by Japikoa’s possessive display, and she released the Chaktawe’s silken hair, only to stroke it gently, combing tenderly with her fingers. She was only vaguely aware of the fleeing scouts, of their light steps on the sand, and only because of their hasty retreat. Her blue eyes flicked for an instant in the direction of the tent’s door. She didn’t even care. Let them look. Let them stare. Let them whisper. They weren’t there. They didn’t know. Nala was used to not being understood. But the two of them had sworn vows to one another, vows that they had meant with all their heart; vows that bound them together.

She smiled at her new partner as she rested beneath her, the softness of her curves cushioning Japikoa’s leaner physique. The Benshira tilted her head slightly, offering her neck to the soft lips that caressed her skin, and she released a soft sigh that held plenty of others sighs inside it – sighs of pleasure, contentment, happiness. She returned the kiss, her lips parting, her tongue touching Japikoa’s lips, tasting herself there. Her arms encircled the lithe creature on top of her, holding her to her, even as her hands began to make their way slowly further south until her hands were resting on the Chaktawe’s buttocks, fingers fanned out as she explored her skin before squeezing lightly.

There was a rosy blush creeping across her face as Japikoa whispered to her, and it only intensified as at the mention of that bell. “And I love you, Japikoa of the Tatsuwaat,” Nala’s voice was quiet, and hoarse with passion and from all her screaming. She nuzzled her, and stole another kiss. “I got that bell last year, in Yahebah,” she confessed. Japikoa was the only one to ever have seen it. “There was a Myrian trader passing through. She had a great deal of piercings everywhere, and more tattoos than I could count,” she squeezed Japikoa’s bottom again, rubbing her hands slowly against the skin. “And apparently, they pierce their sexual parts sometimes,” the blush was spreading to her neck now. “And she called that particular piercing a rain-bringer, because of the way it makes its bearer… twitch and flush. I added the bell once it healed. There’s a little clip on the bell so that it comes on and off, if I need it to… or if you wanted it off.”

Her fingers eased between Japikoa’s thighs, exploring her folds slowly, bathing in the wetness there. Her movements were almost maddeningly slow as she started, beginning to pick up as she gained confidence in what she was doing, her eyes never leaving the Chaktawe’s face as one finger, and then two, delved and twisted, the bells on Nala’s wrists providing another form of music. She lifted her head, taking another kiss, arching her body up underneath her to press herself against her lover, creating a bit of a rocking motion, holding her close all the while.