#maybe DONT talk to me abt this but laudna gay rights

[unicyclehippo]

Heat

apologies that im using not an anon one for this feel free to IGNORE but this fit best lmaoo

//

‘what a shame i died by hanging,’ laudna said, words tugged from her by imogen’s slow, beckoning fingers against her neck, her tiny sounds of demand, of please, as they kissed, as imogen kissed her, unmade, unravelled her, thread by thread.

imogen stopped, breath warm against her cheek. she sounded quite distracted, quite outside of her mind when she spoke, which laudna counted amongst her very greatest successes, though she didn’t think she was doing much more than being very sweetly kissed.

‘what?’

the chair creaked as imogen leaned back. laudna’s neck creaked as she looked up at her - girlfriend? she’d never looked more beautiful. laudna told her as much. a flicker of delight, hungry, red, luscious, banished worry for the time it took imogen to take in her compliment. then it was back.

‘why’re you thinkin’ about that?’ imogen asked her. ‘your death. are you - comfortable? should we switch places? do you-‘

‘i’m quite comfortable.’

‘okay. d’you want me to-‘ imogen’s fingers brushed against laudna’s temple. she leaned into the touch, felt something in her settle as imogen petted her, stroked her hair back from her face, stroked the inside of her mind with the outside of her own. ‘oh.’

‘you can see - it would be pretty.’ laudna skimmed through idle dreams, the blood red of leather, soft, around her throat. the blood red of Imogen’s fingers curled around it. she could go where imogen went. she could sit at her side and be good, be so quiet and perfect and do everything imogen asked her to do and she wouldn’t need to ask, she was so good at it already and imogen would never be afraid again with laudna at her side a loyal hound her loyal hound to stay forever to curl into her bed and keep her - well, not warm, but safe. she could be made useful like that, wicked teeth around a wicked throat, wicked hands bent to imogen’s purposes, whatever they were. and all with a pretty ribbon around her neck, imogen’s ribbon, which was the whole point.

imogen’s eyes were almost as dark as her own, when laudna dared to look. she knew she must be flushed, because Imogen’s hands covered her cheeks and she bent low, dragged her lips across the purpling skin.

‘could avoid your neck.’ imogen’s voice was low, quiet, dropping words as she was wont to do when focused, trusting laudna’s mind to put to all together for them both. ‘could - hold on - ‘s around here-‘

it was a shame to lose imogen’s weight, so carefully perched over her; it was a greater delight to see imogen trip in her hurry, swear, and go fumbling through her clothes for the leather of her harness. she held it up on one finger, questioning, and laughed when laudna clapped her hands together.

‘aren’t you clever!’

‘clever, maybe,’ imogen laughed. ‘i think it’s more like motivated but sure.’

she returned, magic flaring white in her eyes to steady the chair at her less than graceful approach. laudna curled her hands on a warm, soft waist, pulled her close with every bit of her want, however lacking she was in strength.

‘okay?’

‘very,’ laudna assured her, and sat up enough for imogen to slide the harness over her arms, buckle it tight. it didn’t fit quite right—slender as she was, imogen was far more broad, a glorious woman of muscle and soft fat, where laudna was largely bone. but for the purposes of this gentle night, it was more than enough. the tongue of the harness belts slid across leather and the metal of the buckles, cinched tight and tighter. the leather warmed under imogen’s hands, seeping into laudna’s skin. the smell of her, all around, inescapable.

‘don’t touch it,’ imogen told her when laudna stretched up a curious hand. her voice was a gravelled command that made laudna want to lay upon it, the harsh earth, all for her. ‘don’t - it’s perfect. you’re perfect. all mine.’ imogen grabbed her by the lines of the harness, yanked her up, brushed a teasing kiss to her throat that made laudna gasp, images of ropes and ribbons undone by a lash of possessive lightning. ‘mine, mine,’ she muttered, and did with laudna what she willed.