12 - Iona #2
Ariadne shakes with quiet laughter and Iona kisses the edge of her smiling mouth.
While trying her best to reach the correct notes with Iona’s body in the way, Ariadne does quite a fine job at pretending she isn’t there, though the thrumming pulse on her neck would suggest otherwise. Iona traces the vein with her tongue.
One part of the sonata ends and another begins. Ariadne breathlessly explains there are five sections of the piece in all. Each interpretation is meant to explore the theme of the song in a new way. The second part has more notes than the first, and a slightly faster tempo.
Even when Iona repositions herself to suckle at Ariadne’s nipple, while running her thumb in steady circles around the other, Ariadne manages to maintain an air of elegant implacability. That is, until Iona tugs up the skirt of her chemise.
“Iona,” Ariadne chuckles darkly, her fingers faltering.
“Did I say that you could stop?” Iona asks.
Ariadne sighs, but her cheeks turn a pretty shade of pink as she continues playing even as Iona reaches between their bodies to stroke her ever so softly. Ariadne’s breathing deepens, her full red lips parting, her breasts rising and falling heavily.
Her hands slam against the keys when Iona rubs her in relentless circles without warning.
“Have you forgotten the rest?” Iona taunts.
“You’re deliberately sabotaging me,” Ariadne growls through gritted teeth.
“And you have exaggerated your musical prowess,” Iona goads her.
She groans as she attempts to carry on with her performance. The tempo becomes haphazard, her notes not nearly as precise. Iona slows her fingers, leaning in to suck on Ariadne’s neck again, but this time with the intention of leaving marks behind.
“What brought this on?” Ariadne asks, her voice shaking.
Iona pulls away to give her a dubious look that she cannot see through the black silk of her blindfold. “I shall never require a reason to touch you.”
Ariadne grins. “Yes, but… someone could hear or walk in. I haven’t locked the door or cast an enchantment on the room to-”
When Iona sinks two fingers deep inside of her, she lets out a strangled moan, her hands pausing on the keys as she loses herself in the sensation of Iona’s fingers delving in, stretching her, stroking languidly.
Her fingers go still and Ariadne whimpers.
“Did I say,” Iona grazes her jaw with her teeth, “that you could stop playing?”
“No…”
“Then why is there silence?”
Ariadne continues and nips at Iona’s shoulder, making her squirm away. As she presses the heel of her hand against Ariadne’s apex, she curls her fingers inside and pulses them in time with the music, teasing her mercilessly.
“Iona…” Ariadne says her name like a prayer.
“Not too distracting, I hope,” Iona teases.
“Not at all.” Ariadne’s hips shift restlessly against the bench.
Iona grins as she conjures a stone like the one Ariadne had used on her in the valley. She makes it only slightly bigger than a shilling, and curved inwards at the center like a tiny bowl. She positions it where she wants, directly atop Ariadne’s swollen nub.
“Frémir” Iona incants.
Ariadne nearly jumps up from her seat, when the small piece of stone sends a vibratory jolt of pleasure through her. The pendant glows as Iona’s magic keeps the stone in place, so even when Ariadne’s squirms, she cannot escape the sensations.
“Oh,” Ariadne pants. “Do you mean to ruin me?”
“Never,” Iona cups her chin. “Where is my music?”
Ariadne chuckles darkly. “Oh, I am going to make you-”
Iona silences her with a passionate kiss, welcoming Ariadne’s tongue as it pushes past her lips, sucking on it precisely the way she likes to between Ariadne’s legs, which elicits a distinctive shudder from her as she continues her song in earnest.
Iona shifts in Ariadne’s lap as her own pleasure builds through their bond, making it so much more difficult to tease, but not impossible.
She slips her hand between Ariadne’s thighs again and pushes two fingers inside, only to leave them there, barely moving, even when Ariadne tries to grind her hips against her.
Ariadne’s own hands become frantic against the keys, desperate to finish the sonata so she can finally have her release. Frowning, Iona laces her fingers in Ariadne’s soft curls and pulls her head away to break the kiss.
“Slower,” Iona demands.
“No,” Ariadne growls.
Iona withdraws her fingers and steals away the stone. Ariadne’s responding sigh of frustration is nearly enough for Iona to demand she start the sonata over from the beginning.
“Don’t you dare,” Ariadne growls.
While her mouth is open, Iona slips her fingers inside, momentarily startling Ariadne before she dutifully sucks on them, swirling her tongue around them, until they’re clean.
Iona’s core throbs but she holds fast, waiting for Ariadne to obey.
When she continues playing, it’s at a slower tempo. Iona grins.
“Much better, darling,” Iona says, as she reattaches the stone and slides two fingers back inside Ariadne’s slick core, marveling at how wet she’s become.
The fifth and final section of the sonata begins, and Iona makes the most of her remaining minutes to tease Ariadne within an inch of her life.
“The song is almost over,” she warns, panting heavily.
“So soon?” Iona asks.
Ariadne huffs. “Not soon enough.”
“Awe,” Iona coos. “Are you so desperate for me, my love?”
Ariadne’s cheeks turn bright red and Iona kisses one of them softly.
“Say it,” Iona demands.
“Yes,” Ariadne’s voice trembles.
“Yes what?” Iona asks, as Ariadne so often does to her.
“Yes, I am desperate for you,” she whispers between panting breaths.
Iona raises an eyebrow. “Then why are you so quiet?”
Ariadne swallows convulsively. “Everyone will hear.”
“No. Only I will, I swear it.”
Ariadne lets out a fevered, desperate moan and Iona’s heartbeat stutters at the sound.
“This whole time?” she asks incredulously.
“You are not the only one with magic,” Iona grins. “I would not leave you so exposed.”
Ariadne leans in to kiss her and Iona allows it, for a moment. Then she pulls away, leaving her wanting. Now assured that no one can hear or interrupt them, Ariadne’s wanton sighs and moans accompany the music, like a prima donna’s obscene aria sung in harmony with the sonata.
Iona keeps her on the edge, drawing out their exquisite torture with featherlight kisses and calculated strokes, until finally Ariadne plays one final low note. Her shoulders slump as the sonata ends at long last, then she rips her blindfold off to reveal red eyes mad with desire.
“Very good,” Iona grins.
“If you stop, I will tie you down and make you cry from desperation,” Ariadne threatens as she spreads her legs wider and digs her fingers into Iona’s hips.
As delicious as that sounds, Iona wouldn’t dare stop, not when they are both so close.
She strokes faster and harder as Ariadne kisses her with abandon, losing herself in her pleasure, having never looked so beautiful, so uninhibited.
To see her laid bare this way, beyond reason or modesty, is addictive. Iona never wants it to end.
With a violent tremor, Ariadne falls apart, her inner muscles spasming around Iona’s fingers.
She moans Iona’s name, her voice cracking from the force of her cry, and Iona falls with her, trembling from the intensity of their pleasure, but never looking away from Ariadne’s convulsing form, the look of purest ecstasy on her perfect face, as a rush of warm wetness coats Iona’s palm.
They take a moment to catch their breath. Ariadne winces slightly as Iona removes her fingers and they stare at each other for a moment, both of them unable to believe what has just transpired. Then Ariadne laughs, a joyous, incredulous laugh that makes Iona’s spirits soar.
“I suppose you do know the song,” Iona concedes, and Ariadne rolls her eyes before pulling her in close.
“Such depravity.” Ariadne’s voice is a low rasp. “I did not think you would be so brazen in my family’s home. You are far too… respectable.”
“You’ve had a horrid influence on me,” Iona giggles.
Her fingers drift over Iona’s cheek, then she leans in to kiss her so tenderly that Iona thinks she might just float away.
“Now what did you say earlier?” Ariadne asks.
Without warning, she detaches the music rack, tossing it aside and scattering sheet music across the marble floor.
Then she lifts Iona up and on top of the pianoforte’s lid and looms over her until she lays flat on her back against the smooth wood.
She’s forced to rest her feet on the piano keys, creating dissonant chords that contrast greatly to Hayden's sonata.
“Take it off before I rip it off,” Ariadne growls.
Eagerly, Iona gathers the fabric of her chemise and lifts her hips so she can pull it over her head and toss it onto the floor, her streak of dominance dissipating while under Ariadne’s seductive glare.
She hooks Iona’s legs over her shoulders but does not immediately sink her mouth onto her.
Instead, she presses soft kisses upon Iona’s inner thigh, lightly running her teeth over the sensitive skin, though Iona is already dripping with arousal.
A part of her wonders if Ariadne aims to torment her in turn, as she surely deserves.
“Ari,” Iona whimpers.
Ariadne looks up at her from between her legs, and Iona instantly knows what she wants.
“Please,” Iona begs. “Please, I need you. Only you.”
Then she remembers Ariadne’s earlier threat and her core clenches hungrily. She wants to forget everything, to lose the mental capacity to worry about the solstice or maleficium or anything else. She glares down from beneath her lashes, and Ariadne's eyes glint as she awaits her command.
“Lick me until I cannot bear it any longer."
“Again?” Ariadne grins against her tender skin. “Well, if you insist.”
She chokes on air at the first stroke of Ariadne’s tongue.
She doesn’t tease, doesn’t hold back, does not even let her breathe.
Iona is slightly embarrassed by how little time it takes for her to climax once, but she does not endure it for long because Ariadne doesn’t let up for even a moment. If anything, she doubles her efforts.
Her entire body seizes as Ariadne sinks one, then two fingers into her, thrusting hard and deep, while flicking her tongue rapidly against her swollen flesh, until she squeezes her thighs against Ariadne’s ears as she reaches another peak and falls apart a second time.
Ariadne continues on as if she hadn’t noticed.
Iona winces when she becomes too sensitive, nearing the point of pain. Ariadne hesitates, almost pulling away, but Iona entwines her fingers into Ariadne’s curls and holds her head in place.
Harder.
Ariadne moans against her, making her shiver.
She sucks Iona’s flesh deep into her mouth, curling her fingers simultaneously, and Iona cries out as she fists Ariadne’s hair hard enough to pull strands from her scalp.
She climaxes a third time, and a fourth, a fifth, until she loses all control and becomes a writhing, pitiful mess of whimpers and unintelligible sighs.
Ariadne’s ministrations are feverish as she nears her own limit, having ridden through Iona’s pleasure along with her.
Hardly possessing strength left to raise her head, Iona peers down the length of her body, now covered in a glistening sheen of sweat, with Ariadne’s left hand reaching up to grope at her breast. She can barely make out Ariadne’s face through the hot tears pooling in her eyes, streaking down her flushed cheeks, obscuring her vision.
Are those tears, nymph? Ariadne taunts. It’s a wonder you’ve any water left in you.
She replaces her fingers with her tongue, thrusting deep inside, while circling Iona’s nub with her thumb. Iona screams, her back arching towards the ceiling as pleasure explodes from her, until she’s quite sure her heart will give out.
“Stop!” Iona squirms away.
Ariadne pulls back with a self-satisfied grin as she licks Iona’s desire from her lips, a drop falling her from chin before she can catch it. “You lasted longer that time.”
Iona can hardly comprehend her words when she slumps against the pianoforte, her chest heaving as the room spins.
“Breathe, love,” Ariadne says, though she is panting heavily, too.
Iona nods weakly and focuses on inhaling and exhaling, her thighs trembling uncontrollably beneath Ariadne’s hands.
“Don’t faint, now,” she jests.
“I… won’t… you…” Iona struggles to think of a word. “…cretin.”
“Sharp words indeed,” Ariadne chuckles.
She gathers Iona up in her lap, stroking her hair and whispering soothing words.
“How kind of you to distract me from my troubled thoughts,” Ariadne murmurs into her hair. “Your cunt is far more diverting than my piano, I must admit, and the sounds you make are far prettier than that of any instrument.”
Iona giggles and in doing so expels what little remains of her energy. She's moments away from drifting off to sleep in Ariadne’s warm embrace.
“The sun is rising,” Ariadne murmurs. “The long day.”
Iona cannot even lift her eyelids to look. “Hmm...”
“Come, let’s go to bed.” Ariadne presses a kiss to her forehead. “We may yet have an hour before we are expected at breakfast.”
Iona whines but she needn’t have worried. Ariadne stands with her cradled in her arms.
“Perhaps you have caught my laziness,” she chuckles.
Iona makes an unintelligible noise in protest and Ariadne laughs again. She somehow manages to take her staff from where it rests against the pianoforte and create a portal back to her bedroom.
Iona doesn’t let go, even when Ariadne tries to set her down onto the bed and pull away. Sighing, Ariadne climbs into bed beside her, her staff still in hand. Iona drifts off to sleep with her head cushioned by Ariadne’s chest, her strong, steady heartbeat like a somnolent lullaby.