faderift | CLOSED | She said, "Where'd you wanna go? How much you wanna risk?"

Some part of Ellie had assumed that Clarisse would make this rough and quick, straight to the payoff, and that part of her wanted that. A quick release of tension to clear her head, a small detour before she anchored her hands on Clarisse's hips and held her down and brought her over and over until her jaw puts itself out of commission-

But this is. This is-

Ellie quakes at every pass of Clarisse's thumb, her thighs trembling and her back awash with goosebumps despite the steam. They're close, feverishly close, the heat turning to chills in the unexpected softness of Clarisse's mouth on her neck.

She's gonna have more bruises later. They're gonna be visible later, something to think about and run her fingers over and

Ah, shit.

Ellie draws her hands up over Clarisse's back, finding her shoulder blades, the column of her spine, the nape of her neck under her hair. Her nails scratch again lightly as she grips down, holding on like that can possibly anchor her.

Ellie doesn't have a clue how big a favor she's doing Clarisse right now, dropping this in her lap for free after midnight in the fucking baths, of all places.

When she'd first arrived at camp, she'd bulldozed her way through games of capture the flag and sessions at the lava wall until her whole body ached and she was practically asleep on her feet, all so she wouldn't have to lie awake at night and think about her bedroom in Phoenix. And again, when she'd left for college, there had been basketball games and the parties after the games and the girls and guys at the parties, and if she was up all night before classes, it meant no nightmares, no thrashing around in bed and staring at the ceiling, no problems.

Here there's the training yard and what seems like a thousand steps to go up and down every day, but it just isn't enough, and she finds herself sleepless, stressed out, anxious in a way that has her feeling like she's somebody else, somebody she doesn't recognize.

She could've made this quick and dirty, and it would have been good, too (because for all she sucks at the rest of it, Clarisse knows she's good at the physical stuff), but she's making this last. Maybe she's lonely, sue her. Maybe she doesn't want to think.

Everything closes in until it's just Ellie pressed up against her, gasping, Ellie's fingernails digging into the nape of her neck and sending little electric shivers down her spine, Ellie shaking under her hand as she presses her fingers in deeper. The circles she's making with her thumb get a little faster, the pressure firmer and less teasing.

There's something that hits so perfect when it has time to build. The feeling of hitting that rise, knowing that you're gonna cum if you can just keep doing it just like that.

Clarisse shivers against her, presses her fingers in deeper, and does something tight and perfect with her thumb that for a split-second has Ellie imagining her with her face between her thighs, doing the same motion with her tongue.

"Cla-"

It jolts over her, and Ellie's heel scrapes against the floor of the bath, her legs unsteady for a second before she realizes Clarisse has her- and then her breathing comes ragged.

"Clarisse, fuck-"

Louder, faster, until orgasm breaks over her like something getting dragged out of her by force. Hard enough to leave her shivering, soaking wet in ways that aren't the water, struggling for breath.

Clarisse's hair wrapped tight around her fist.

Her only real, coherent thought as Ellie comes is this is so fucking hot, which she manages to keep to herself, but barely. Her teeth are clamped over her bottom lip so hard it's gone numb, and she's holding her breath, totally fixated on the sounds Ellie's making, the way she moves, shuddering and wild.

Clarisse keeps her thumb moving until Ellie's collapsed against her and trembling with little aftershocks that Clarisse can feel around her fingers. She holds onto Ellie with one hand, keeping her upright and pressed against Clarisse even though—it's stupid, it's not like Ellie's gonna fall now, but—

"You good?" she says finally, kind of breathless herself, and instantly regrets saying it because it sounds so dumb. She likes the way Ellie's fingers are all tangled up in her hair, pulling on it in a way that's half pain, half pleasure, and she likes the way Ellie's shaking against her, the little gasps of hot breath against her shoulder. She could stay like this for... a while, feeling triumphant and incredibly turned on and half hypnotized by Ellie's body pressed up against her own.

She slips her fingers out, reaches up. Her thumb traces lightly over the tattoo on Ellie's arm, back and forth.

Somewhere in all of this, they ended up pressed together, Clarisse's arm around her, pinned up against the rim of the bath. Clarisse strokes her through the rest of it, drawing aching shudders out of her, and for a moment she doesn't actually feel any pain. It feels incredible. Suspended, warm, floating. Relaxed.

"Goddamn," she says in answer, a laugh on the tail end of it. She makes herself release the lock on her fingers, stroking through Clarisse's hair instead as she tips her head forward. Presses her lips against the dark mark she made on the side of her neck. Lingers there to feel her pulse against her mouth.

Let her eyes stay closed, just for the moment. Inhales through her nose as Clarisse pulls out (leaving her with that good ache) only to settle with the stroking.

She doesn't have real words yet. Instead, she trails slow kisses along her damp skin.

"Goddamn" is more than a good enough answer.

Clarisse grins, still stroking Ellie's arm with her thumb, trailing over the scars and lines of ink. She's tempted to say something akin to "I told you so," but Ellie trailing kisses down her neck is a huge distraction, and instead all she manages is a pleased little hum from deep in her throat.

This is really... nice. Later, maybe she'll feel weird about it, but right now she doesn't give a shit. Which is nice, too, in its own way.

Ellie can feel the vibration against her lips, the softer curve of her body as they settle together.

The stroke along her arm feels good, and strange- it's made up mostly of thick scar tissue, both too thick to feel properly and too sensitive not to throw out weird feedback. It sends a shiver across her skin.

With her left arm, she detangles just enough to ease it around Clarisse's waist and pull them more firmly together. All the better to just- feel her, because she's hungry for the sensation of skin on skin and she wants to taste that bead of water that's sliding down her collarbone and pooling in her clavicle while she fits her thumb right into the small of her back, thanks.

Yes, this is afterglow. Pressing the tip of her tongue into the perfect little hollow of Clarisse's throat is vital to coming down.

Ellie's arm slips around her waist and tugs Clarisse closer, surprisingly strong. She isn't expecting it, and her lips part as she inhales. Clarisse hadn't really thought they could get much closer, but it turns out she was wrong. Ellie's body is pressed firm up against hers, hot against Clarisse's skin in the best way, and her hand settles at the small of Clarisse's back, holding her where she is.

"Okay, shit," she murmurs, smiling, surprised. People don't get touchy with Clarisse too much—at least, not in this way, pulling her closer like she can't do it herself. Most people would be afraid to try, she thinks. But this is good. She's surprised how much she likes it.

"O-kay," she says again, stumbling on the word in a way that'd be embarrassing if she weren't so focused on what Ellie's doing with her tongue at the hollow of her throat.

The first time Clarisse stutters that out, Ellie smiles against her skin. The second time, Ellie clasps her closer until their hips bump together, slides down just enough to follow her breastbone.

"Nobody ever put their mouth on you before?" It comes out like she's trying for playful, but she's actually offended.

Because if so, that's a fucking crime.

And even though she just came, how fucking responsive Clarisse is is absolutely going to get her going again. Quickly.

And she's not trying to be distracting when she uses both hands to frame the underside of Clarisse's breasts, stroking her thumbs along where her skin goes from muscle to softness, but if that's a side effect...

Clarisse laughs, just once. She is very, very distracted. "Uh, yeah," she says. "You did, earlier."

Other people... sure. Who cares. That was stupid, sloppy college shit in tiny beds, or trying to hook up in the middle of the woods back at camp. Distracting, but in a totally different way. Half her mind always thinking about other shit. This is...

The way Ellie's thumbs are stroking over her breasts has her breathing catch in her throat. She shuts her eyes, for a few seconds, leaning into the touch. Bites her lip, sucking air through her teeth.

"Their loss," Ellie breathes, this time more openly simmering over it, only to have it immediately grow worse when Clarisse reacts so openly, so honestly to her touch. Sure, she might've been teased up from touching Ellie earlier, but...

God. Ellie gets distracted, just watching her face. Heavy-lidded eyes, hair messed up, sweaty and wet from all the steam of the baths. Her breasts slip against Ellie's hands, warm and soft as she follows the arch of them with her thumbs, pressing but not quite grazing her nipples.

Wetting her lip, Ellie dips her tongue back into the small notch of skin where Clarisse's clavicles meet, and downward, tasting salt. Her breasts slip in her hands again, a gradual squeeze of palm and fingers until her nipples brush hard against Ellie's palms. She cups her fully then, pressing them together enough to trace her tongue along her cleavage.

Dip inside, as she traps her nipples with her thumbs. A light pinch, but a slower, insistent tug.

Clarisse makes a sound in her throat that might be agreement, or just want.

Ellie's got her tongue in between Clarisse's tits. She's playing with her nipples in a way that's sending electric shocks of pleasure down Clarisse's body and right between her legs, touches that hurt a little bit in the best way and have her heart pounding against her ribs so hard that Ellie must be able to feel it under her flushed skin.

Clarisse runs her hands up the curve of Ellie's spine, digs her nails into the lean muscle of her back, slick with water, and murmurs something in Ellie's ear, Greek that is very obviously not a demand for her to stop what she's doing.

It takes Ellie a second to place the language- it's completely unfamiliar, for a second sounds like Spanish, before her memories click into place. Ancient Greek.

Ellie gives a heady exhale against her chest, another slow tug as Clarisse digs her nails into her back. Fuck, she can just keep doing that all night- instead, she makes a low noise against her skin and dips lower, framing Clarisse's waist in both hands to bring her in close. To run her tongue over her nipple, suck her into her mouth, test the delicate skin with a hint of her teeth.

She's close enough to the water that she can feel her hair dripping into her face, and she has to close her eyes, go completely by touch to follow Clarisse's hips under the water, grips her ass with both hands.

"Hold on tight," she murmurs against her skin, sounding breathless.

"Mmm—" The muscles in Clarisse's back flex, a little shiver running through her at the feeling of Ellie's tongue running over her nipple, the wet heat of her mouth, the scraping sting of teeth.

Then Ellie's hands are on her ass, and the sound that comes out of Clarisse is almost a whine, and she presses her fingers even tighter into Ellie's back, hard enough to bruise. It's like no matter how close Ellie is, how tight her body's pressed up against Clarisse's, it isn't enough.

"I think—if I held on any tighter I might break your ribs again," she finally manages to say, voice rough and breathless.

The hold aches all through her back, and Ellie goes all breathy against Clarisse's breastbone, not bothering to hold back the low, needy sound she makes at the warm pulse of almost-pain. Fuck, that's good, actually.

She swirls her tongue against her nipple one more time for good measure, comes off with a wet noise, chases it with a laugh.

"If it keeps going this way, I just might let you."

And with that little bit to imagine, Ellie anchors both her hands and lifts with her legs. Turns them both, enough to seat Clarisse on the stone lip of the baths. Her face is flushed with the effort and her shoulder's protesting, but she can't bring herself to fucking care.

Instead, she pushes Clarisse's knees apart, presses in close between them, runs the palm of her hand down her stomach.

With her other hand, she pushes back her hair where it's falling into her face, looks up at her with a grin.

"Lean back."

“Deal,” she says, and can’t help but laugh at the way Ellie’s face flushes from the effort as she lifts her up and sets her on the side of the bath.

Clarisse has lifted other girls before, but a girl has never picked her up like this, ever. She likes it, though. She wouldn’t be pissed if Ellie did that again sometime.

She leans back, propping herself up on her elbows so she can watch Ellie. She can feel water dripping onto the stone beneath her, and t feeling of the cold stone on her ass and back is such a stark contrast from the heat of the bath water and of Ellie’s hand running feather light down her stomach, it’s making her head spin. Or maybe that’s just having Ellie parked between her legs like that, the way her grin goes sharp and a little dangerous, just the way Clarisse likes.

Ellie mock-scowls at the laugh, reaching out with both hands to grip her hips instead, sliding her forward on the slick stone. (Slowly, because ouch.)

Fuck, she looks good like this. All drenched and dripping, the water shining off her shoulders and breasts and arms and thighs, a smile on her face. Ellie presses a soft kiss between her breasts for good measure, pushing her thighs apart as she heads down and down.

The anticipation is fucking perfect, like something curling up inside her, winding tight and hot, and she doesn't bother trying to keep it off her face. She's fucking mesmerized just looking at her, trailing her fingertips down until she can slide them along where she's slickest. Top to bottom, then palm up, sliding her middle finger in just enough to part her, just enough to get it wet and slippery.

"God," Ellie breathes, obviously to herself, and wets her lips. Another pass, this time down with her thumb, ghosting over her clit before she pushes just enough to feel Clarisse squeeze around her.

(Teasing, like an asshole.)

The way Ellie's looking at her has Clarisse wanting to laugh again, but in a totally different way, the kind of laugh that's nervous and questioning. Something unsure and hesitant's building in her chest, a feeling she doesn't even know the name of, and she can feel her ears go red, which—fuck. She swallows the laugh and manages to turn it into a quiet exhalation, instead. She just doesn't know what to make of it, that look on Ellie's face, like Clarisse is something worthy of awe, somehow.

She's lucky that she doesn't have to think about it for long. It's easy not to think about anything more than the way Ellie's finger is sliding inside her, the way her thumb brushes Clarisse's clit and makes her want to moan out loud, or grab onto Ellie's hand and push her closer.

Clarisse reaches down and grips the edge of the bath. She curls her fingers around it so tight that her knuckles go white and it feels like she could snap a piece of the stone off in her palm.

"I didn't tease you, you dick," she manages to hiss out between her teeth. It's... not really true. Maybe half.

The way Clarisse's ears go red and her eyes go wide makes Ellie want to kiss her again. Which is probably not the direction you should go in for someone you're just-- just fooling around with, but goddamn. This is turning out so much better than she thought it would.

Clarisse hisses at her and Ellie grins wider, all heat and anticipation. And maybe that's what she was waiting for. Not quite a beg, not quite an order, just that clear rush of need.

"You absolutely teased me, you dick," Ellie answers, her voice heavy. But she reaches up and with the palm of her right hand, gives Clarisse's sternum a hard push, riding her forward until she's sprawled out on her back with her legs in the water, Ellie's hand dragging itself down her chest and to her stomach, where she anchors her tattooed forearm across her hips.

One more stroke with her fingers, downward this time. And she thinks she should play, and tease, and maybe loosen her up a bit with her tongue before she really tries to get her there, but frankly she's been dying to do this all fucking night.

The kiss Ellie gives her cunt is hot and deep and claiming, the kind that immediately makes it clear why she's bothering to hold Clarisse down.

Even as Ellie is pushing her back onto the stone tiles, Clarisse is opening her mouth to argue, because of course she is.

"Yeah, but" is as far as she gets before Ellie rests the warm weight of her arms across Clarisse's hips, and then Ellie replaces her fingers with her mouth and Clarisse loses track of how to breathe correctly, much less say anything coherent.

A gasp wrenches itself out of her and she feels herself start to arch up, with only Ellie's arms holding her down against the floor. She lifts a hand because the only thing she wants to do is tangle it up in Ellie's hair and hold her right where she is. But in the end she only slams it down against the edge of the tub hard enough to hurt, because she remembers Ellie'd said that thing about keeping her hands to herself, even though it's far too late for that.

"Fuck, Ellie," she breathes out, shaking.

Yeah, but.

With her free hand, Ellie reaches down to cup the underside of Clarisse's thigh, move it to her shoulder neck to her ear, where she'll have more room to open her up and-

For one second she doesn't actually notice Clarisse reaching for her. Instead it's the slap of her hand back down on the stone, and her response is a low, rolling groan, a slide of her tongue deep inside of her, cupping and drawing back out, like she can lick out the taste of her.

She comes up gasping, grazing her teeth against Clarisse's thigh because it's right there, and realizes that Clarisse didn't pull her hair because Ellie told her not to.

She'd fucking forgotten.

It shouldn't squeeze something in her chest. Ellie told her and Clarisse listened. It's basic respect, stupid basic, but it still comes as a surprise.

"If you wanna touch me, go ahead," she breathes, a hot wash of air against her thigh.

The vibration of Ellie's groan right up against her cunt, and then the scrape of teeth against her thigh and the heat of Ellie's breath as she pulls back, has Clarisse fighting back a moan herself.

Her breathing's gone shallow with anticipation, and one of her heels is digging into Ellie's back, probably hard enough to hurt, but she can't stop herself from trying to squeeze Ellie closer to her, hold her there.

"Okay," she breathes, "yeah, I do," and now with permission granted, she reaches up to curl her fingers in the wet tangles of hair at the back of Ellie's head.

It's much nicer than holding onto the stone of the tub, and she scratches lightly with her fingernails, pulls at the hair curled in her fist.

Clarisse's heel in her back aches all through her bruises, sets up a pulsing heat that should probably worry her about her own proclivities, honestly. But she can't much bring herself to care, because Clarisse's fingers slip into her hair, and hold there.

It's simple. But it's a warm, firm hold, more intimate than anything she's had in ages.

She might've gotten away with staying quiet if Clarisse hadn't pulled, but a moan slips out anyway, soft and breathless. Ellie quickly muffles it into Clarisse's thigh, her ears burning.

Fuck. It shouldn't be that easy.

"It's been a while," she confesses, with a light bite to the inside of her thigh, gathering herself before she goes back down between her thighs. Clarisse won't have to steer her, she knows exactly where to go. But she can't say she doesn't love the suggestion.

Ellie delves in deep with her tongue alone, like she's trying to lick all the water off of her, until all she can taste is how much Clarisse wants this. All getting off earlier seemed to do is take the edge off, she can still feel herself aching from Clarisse's fingers.

The tip of her nose nudges against her clit as she cups her tongue, curls it to lick her slowly out in long strokes.

Clarisse lets out a breathy, distracted laugh. "Right." She doesn't quite believe that it's been a while for Ellie, but she also doesn't really care, considering how hot that little moan against her thigh has her.

And then there's Ellie's tongue, stroking deep inside. Clarisse's words, already reduced to brief one- and two-word utterances, abandon her completely, and she can only let out approving little gasps as Ellie keeps going.

That little brush of her nose against Clarisse's clit makes her moan, has her fingers curling even tighter in Ellie's hair. She presses down with her fist against the back of Ellie's head, hard, then relaxes her grip the tiniest bit, murmuring, "Fuck, sorry, I just—mm." The word please is right there on the tip of her tongue, and her hips buck a little bit, and the sound she makes is close to a whine.

Her head tilts back, pressed against the stone floor. Heat coils deep inside her, pressure that's been building since she stood up and walked across the bath and pressed her fingers against the bruises on Ellie's ribs. "Don't make me beg you, okay," she manages, knowing full well that she will, if it comes to that.

This is exactly what they both needed. Clarisse wraps her fingers into Ellie's hair tight enough to make her scalp sting, and she has to gasp a breath against her before she slides her tongue out, tracing hot, tight circles around her clit.

Ellie resolves not to tease her. She can draw this out, sure, and the thought of getting Clarisse desperate enough to beg has its merits, but not if they're both wholly on board. Getting off doesn't mean this will be over. It's really just the start of all of the things stacking up in her head, putting pressure on that building heat.

With a hum of agreement, Ellie leans into the way Clarisse is bucking her hips, riding the movements but not breaking away from her- she can breathe in this position.

Ellie strokes once along her thigh, an encouragement, before she leaves off holding her down enough to reach up and palm one of her breasts, and not entirely gently.

Every stroke of her tongue ends in a heavy flick, and Clarisse's hand is there in her hair, making sure to keep her right there. She digs her blunt nails in where her other hand is wrapped around her thigh, over her shoulder, so she won't reach down to touch herself.

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