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

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.

It's almost embarrassing, how quick Ellie reduces her a shuddering wreck after that. Would be, if Clarisse was thinking straight, but what Ellie's doing with her tongue feels so fucking good that it doesn't matter. It's all she can focus on, the lighter stroke and then the deeper pressure of that flick against her clit, over and over again, and that sensation of heat blooming in her from the inside out.

"Fuck," she groans in a high voice that doesn't sound like herself, "Ellie—"

She rolls her hips, arching against the friction. Her whole body feels like a tightly wound spring, trembling on the edge of coming apart, and then she tumbles over it. She keeps one hand clenched in Ellie's hair as she rides out her orgasm and the shuddery little aftershocks, and only then does she let her grip slacken the slightest bit.

"Damn," she murmurs, sounding both impressed and a little dazed.

When Clarisse tightens like that, starts breathing like that, starts moving her hips, Ellie knows she's found it. A rough, hot breath escapes her, goosebumps shivering down her spine as she rides the way Clarisse fucks her mouth, making sure to never lose that pressure.

Something opens up in her chest as Clarisse tumbles over that edge, and Ellie closes her lips over her, stroking her slowly through that peak and each smaller aftershock, drawing it out until they're both gasping, and Ellie's probably left marks on Clarisse's thigh.

Smiling against her at the praise, Ellie spares her oversensitive clit for the moment, catching her breath against Clarisse's thigh, running her palm warmly along the muscles of her abs, almost petting her as she comes down.

"I mean," she says, and her voice sounds rusty, so she clears her throat. "I did say an hour."

Still trying to catch her breath, Clarisse finally releases her grip on the back of Ellie's head so she can prop herself up on her elbows again and look down at her. She's grinning, can't help herself, cheeks flushed.

"You did say that," she agrees in a soft voice, and flexes her fingers a couple times. One leg's still hooked over Ellie's shoulder, and she can feel her breath hot against the skin of her thigh. Makes her feel shivery and warm both at once.

"I wouldn't... hate that."

"Awesome," Ellie answers with a breathless smile, her eyes bright, as she hoists Clarisse's other thigh over her other shoulder, enjoying the flush and smile on her face.

She looks a lot more relaxed, too, and Ellie can't help but feel some kind of smug pride about it.

Still watching her face, she slips two fingers inside of her, warm and wet, the heel of her palm gentle where it presses against her clit, making sure it's not too direct.

She's still so sensitive that the feeling of Ellie's fingers slipping inside her, followed by that press against her clit, makes the muscles in Clarisse's abdomen twitch in a sudden jolt. She presses her teeth into her bottom lip and sucks until it hurts, just to keep herself from gasping out loud. Again.

Ellie is watching her, and Clarisse's face flushes in a way that has nothing to do with what they just did.

"Like what you see?" It could be snarky, but she's honestly feeling too good for the words to have any real bite.

"Love it," Ellie says, with startling honesty. This started as a distraction, a way to blow off some steam. But she's having a fantastic time.

She's slower now, her fingers sliding easily now that Clarisse is so very wet, twisting inside, crooking upwards to ease the pads of her fingers across that place inside and up.

"Maybe I should ask you that."

The feeling of Ellie's fingers pressing inside her, slow and slick, is amazing. Clarisse has to resist the urge to buck her hips, to ask her to move faster. She lets her breath out slowly, forcing herself to be deliberate even when every part of her wants to speed up, lose control again.

"Yes." Just as honest. There's no way she could lie, even if she wanted to. Not with the way her pupils are blown and her teeth keep pressing into her bottom lip while she stares at Ellie.

"You should get yourself off too," Clarisse says, after a moment. "So I can watch."

Fuck, she's perfect. Ellie had been starting slow, assuming she was oversensitive after getting off, but- shit. Is this a demigod thing? If so, that's a very cool demigod thing.

So Ellie breathes out and speeds up, one strong thrust of her fingers, the heel of her hand impacting her clit with a wet, filthy noise as she leans in close, gets to her feet to lean in over her, supporting herself with her bad arm. It aches, but not much.

"Scoot back," she manages, letting her go, enough for the both of them to get out of the water.

It's lovely, but she doesn't want to drown them both.

The pressure of Ellie's fingers and the aching press of her heel against Clarisse's clit, then the sudden absence of it as she draws her hand away, has Clarisse making a sound something between a whine and a moan, frustrated and turned on and eager all at once.

Her own fault, since she'd asked—actually, not asked, just sort of demanded—Ellie to touch herself, too. Still worth it.

She shifts back on the stone, using her arms, and slides her thighs off of Ellie's shoulders so that Ellie can climb out of the bath and lean over her. Wraps one arm around her instead, sliding her fingers over the slick, bruised dip of her lower back and then cupping her ass.

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