Lissa Gets Railed Into Next Week

Maribelle kisses exactly how Lissa had imagined she would: fiercely, heatedly, pushing her entire body over Lissa's in the softest of weights.

Next to her, plopped on one elbow, Henry chuckles. "You look like you want to devour her alive."

Maribelle sits up on Lissa's laps, sending a glance towards her husband. Naga above, she's beautiful like this, panting, face flushed. "That's more of your lane, dear."

He laughs again, his voice like a dozen of chatting crows, and he leans down, stealing a kiss of his own. He's gentler, though he uses more teeth, grazing Lissa's tongue, nipping at her lips.

One of her hand goes up to rest on Maribelle's hip. The other buries itself in Henry's hair, pulling him closer.

Maribelle hums out loud. "Aren't you two a sight." Her hands dance on Lissa's sides, going all the way up her ribs, then back down to her hips, back and forth, back and forth.

Eventually, they break apart. Lissa's hand traces the side of Henry's jaw as he pulls away. He's lanky and boney all over, which Lissa knows isn't objectively very attractive, yet the sight of his toothy smile and bone-white hair gets her heart racing everytime.

Maribelle leans in to kiss her collarbone, and Lissa sighs. Her hand slides down to the back of Henry's neck, his throat. It goes down his sternum, then spreads over his chest, and that's when Henry grabs her wrist.

"Afraid I'm gonna have to disappoint, hun." He brings her hand to his lips, tenderly kissing the back of her fingers. "You can touch, no problem, but this won't do much for me, if that's your aim. Numbness to pain extends to pleasure too, it turns out."

Oh. Her first thought is that's unfortunate, because Lissa would be lying if she said she'd never dreamed of Henry plowing her until she couldn't walk, but this passes soon, because real Henry will forever be better than fantasy Henry by virtue of actually being real.

Her second thought is "Wait, you are enjoying this, right?" Because the last thing she wants is to drag Henry into something he doesn't enjoy. She can keep her lust to herself and stick to cuddles if that's what he prefers.

But Henry only grins and flips her hand to kiss her palm. "Oh, very much so."

There is such heat in these last few words, gaze and voice and being brimming with desire, that Lissa takes a sharp breath.

"It's a great look on you, all this blood rushing to your face." He reaches out to gently touch her cheek. "And you have such a lovely voice. I want to know what it'd take to make you whimper. To make you scream."

O-oh, alright, alright,

Maribelle looks up, propping her chin on Lissa's chest. "He likes to bite, if you want to do something for him." On of her hand slides under Lissa's dress, running over her outer thigh. "I'm warning you, though, he's not gentle."

In the span of a few words, Lissa vividly remembers all the bruises she's seen on Maribelle- on her neck and shoulders and arms and- oh, these must have been teeth, oh,

"Ma-ri-beeeelle," Henry whines, "I was trying not to be too weird here! I don't want her freaking out on us."

"Henry, dearest husband, sweet of my sweet," She plops herself up to kiss her husband's temple, "anyone attracted to you has to be into that."

"It's alright." Lissa says, because, embarassing as that wording is, she is, in fact, very into that. "Besides, I've had stranger thoughts about the both of you."

She realizes her mistake too late. Both of them suddenly turn towards her, like hungry wolves in front of a wounded fawn.

"Oh, really now?" Henry's grip tightens around her hand. He brings it to his lips again, though this time, the kiss is more open-mouthed.

Maribelle's hand circles a breast. "Care to share?"

Lissa swallows hard. Oh fuck. Oh fuuuck they're going to eat her alive, and she can't find it in herself to be scared.

"Oh, y-you know," her breath hiches as Maribelle swipes a thumb across a nipple. "You two. Touching me. Mostly."

Mostly, she says, because if biting might be a little weird, it's still loads better than I want you to dress me as a maid and make me service you in the filthiest ways possible, still loads better than I want you to lay me across your laps and spank me like a naughty girl while you mock me for getting wet from it, still loads better than I want you to tie me up and make me watch as you ride your husband, and then sit on my face to make me clean you up.

Henry opens his mouth and slots her whole wrist in there. He does not bite, not yet; he merely drags his teeth along the lenght of her arm, like a promise for more.

"What else?" Maribelle kisses the corner of her mouth. "Won't you be a good girl and tell us?"

Good girl.

Good girl.

Good girl.

Lissa rubs her thighs together. Being made to admit her dirtiest dreams, in front of them... it's a little scary. It's a little exciting. By the gods, she is burning. "I... like to imagine you two being. A little mean to me. Sometimes." Everytime, actually.

Henry lets go of her arm, quickly lavishing his tongue over the inside of her wrist. There is always some sort of inhuman air around Henry, but right now, canines bared, eyes wide open, he has never more looked like an animal to her. "Mean how?" He licks his lips. "Through words?" He leans forward to nip at her ear. "Would you like to be our little slut, princess?"

H.

"Come on, darling, won't you answer him?"

"I, uh, well, you," Henry brings her arm back to his mouth. Our little slut still rings in her skull, filling her lower half with heat. "I-I like to imagine. You two. Using me. For each other's pleasure." Using, she says, like a toy, like a doll, soft and pretty and pliant just for you,

Henry bites.

Lissa cries out. Maribelle hadn't lied; Henry is not gentle. This is not a nip, not a nibble. He bites, deep and strong, and Lissa is certain she's going to have bruises tomorrow.

Maribelle kisses the hollow of her throat. "You'd be a good pet for us?" O-oh, a pet, a pretty little kitty for them to manhandle and praise and fuck, "I'm sure we could find a lovely collar for you." Maribelle's thumb rubs a circle on the side of Lissa's neck, and she swallows hard. "Unless you'd rather be tamed?"

Tamed, which implies trained, punished for bad behaviors and rewarded for good ones, owned-

"Yes," she's breathless, "y-yes, to either, both, tie me up, bend me over a table, force me to take it,"

Henry bites into the fat of her thumb, and her sentence ends in a choked moan.

"Force you?" Maribelle cocks up an eyebrow. Then, swiftly, she seizes Lissa's free hand, and pins it above her head. "Would that please you? To get to struggle against us? To know that we are having our wicked ways with you, regardless of what you want?"

"Yes." Lissa hisses. "I know you, you wouldn't actually- but that's why I want, you both to, please, I-"

And Maribelle is kissing her again, all fire and hunger. Lissa wiggles her arms, just to test. She could actually break out of Maribelle's hold pretty easily. If Henry helped her, though... Or if he whipped out one of his tomes...

Maribelle parts from her. "Are you just playing, or do you genuinely want me to let you go?"

"Just playing." She clarifies. "I'll tell you if something's wrong." As of now, though, things are very, very right.

"Lissa." Henry's voice interrupts her. He's gripping her arm so tightly his nails are digging into her skin. There's something almost feral in his voice, in his breath, in how he shows too many teeth as he smiles. "Lissa, Lissa, your thighs, I want them under my teeth, I want your slick over my tongue, can I? Can I?"

"Please," Lissa replies with a frantic nod. "Please, I need-"

She doesn't get to end her sentence. Henry lets go of her arm and dives under her dress, immediately assaulting her inner thighs. Each scrape of his teeth make her jolt, each press of his tongue gets her whining.

"He's good, isn't he?" Maribelle frees her hand, too, preferring to cup Lissa's cheeks instead as she lays soft kisses over her face. "One time, he bit me so hard he made me bleed. Hurt like crazy. But oh, if you'd seen his face, lips smeared with my life..."

And good gods above, Lissa wants this so much, her red under his nails, her red inside his mouth. She'd never understood his fascination with blood before, but right now, right now, she gets it. What more could she possibly give him, what more intimate, personal gift, than what her very heart pumps through her veins?

His mouth closes around her clit, giving it a hard suck, and hips buckle up. Her arms wrap around Maribelle, clutching her close.

"He likes to hunt, too." Maribelle tells her, nuzzling the side of her neck. "One time, we got all the servants out, and he chased me through the entire house. I hid and ran, and he searched for me like a bloodhound."

She takes one of Lissa's hands, kisses the back of it, then guides it between her legs.

"When he caught me," Lissa curls her fingers into her, and Maribelle's breath stutters. "He was like a wild beast. I felt like a little prey animal in front of him. I thought he was going to eat me alive." She brings a hand to her own neck. "He certainly bit like he meant to."

Fuck, fuck- Lissa wants to see that, she wants to be that, wants to see Henry carve Maribelle's skin in the shape of his teeth wants to be desired so badly it's like a sort of hunger-

"He- took me right against the wall, that day." Lissa's thumb swipes across her clit, and she whines. "So hard, my knees gave up- and then he just, held me up, and kept going-"

Lissa comes so hard her vision whites out.

Her whole body goes boneless. She feels the press of lips against her owns, then her slick hand delicately set back against the mattress.

"Wait-"

"It's okay, darling." Maribelle kisses her again. "Just lay there, and watch."

And sure enough, soon, Henry crawls back from under her dress. He presses his chest against Maribelle's back, and the two exchange a sweet kiss. Then, Henry's hand dips between her thighs, where Lissa's hand was just a few seconds ago.

Naga. Above. Lissa watches them, still caught in her afterglow, watches as Maribelle tilts her head to let Henry sink his teeth in her shoulder, and she thinks, if there is any way to get any closer to the divine, this must be it.

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