Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Bored already?”

“Of course not,” you say, failing to stifle a yawn.

To your side, Priestess smirks, her fingers digging a little harder into your thigh. Huffing in response, you swat away her palm, which turns into a brief game of slap and tickle between the both of you. A rather immature but welcome distraction, the sounds of your companion’s giggles bring out a smile even you fail to suppress.

A glare over the shoulder from another attending the seminar follows shortly.

You stifle a snicker. Though your cheeks glow in mild embarrassment, Priestess nudges you with her head. Not even a second passes before she returns to her usual quiet and studious demeanor. Still, you can’t help but sigh internally, pondering how dearly you would love to leave this blasted orbital station and never come back. A walk in the vastness of space would do far better than sitting and enduring lectures on “The Strange Physics of Planets N, N+1, and N+2.”

Ugh.

How Priestess convinced you to return to proper civilization—even if only to its fringes—for this conference is beyond you. The two of you would get better bang for your buck exploring the Great Dark Wilderness and putting a flag down somewhere than mingling with such insufferable company. Not everyone and their mother needs to be present for this particular affair. Yet somehow Priestess, with all her charm and wit and intelligence, managed to convince you to go along.

What a conundrum.

Suffice to say, for as enamored as you are with the linguist in her polished robes, this is well out of your comfort zone. Especially with how a few of your contemporaries keep slinking peeks at your partner without a shred of subtlety. Not that you can blame them too much.

Oh wait, you can.

You stare down a particular perpetrator, forcing the orthodox stickler to look away. Still, beady little eyes continue to drift wherever they want. Scoffs become muffled by the constant barrage of babble emanating from the older gentleman rambling at the head of the room. If only you could blast some blustery nonsense back at them.

A tap at your wrist makes you jolt.

"Dearheart," Priestess chides.

Heaving a sigh, you mutter your apologies and settle down. With a playful smile, Priestess shifts herself so that one arm rubs against the crease of your elbow. Her attention veers back to the presentation with a slight wiggle as her eyes trace her notepad. For her, it seems easy enough. Maybe the difficulty comes from your frustration from every time your eyes lock with another onlooker of the pretty brunette.

This continues, with you daydreaming while Priestess maintains her studious façade. Beneath the table, however, you feel her hand sneak its way over and cup your groin. Not too tight, not too loose. Just warm and inviting and enough to give that bubbly sensation already brewing in the lower pits of your stomach.

"P-Priestess...?"

"Hush now," Priestess hums, rubbing slow, gentle circles between your legs. "Everyone else is already listening to the lecture. Wouldn't you agree we should do the same?"

Biting back a groan, you shakily nod your head. Flicking at a switch, Priestess' expression shifts, her tongue making a quick pass over her moist, pouted lips. A smile in the midst of what everyone thinks is pure focused attention. That teasing flash, the lewd display, sends another burst of blood swirling throughout your abdomen.

Time for risk assessment.

It's very much advantageous that the two of you are right at the back of the lecture hall, your lower halves veiled from all who would care to glance backwards by the table. Most of your compatriots are craning their necks toward the stage, where the main lecturer prattles on and on. Every holographic display showing is only further distraction from yours and Priestess' apparent mischief. No-one stands close to your location. A near-perfect opportunity has landed, it seems.

However, it would hardly be prudent to continue the act, even if you do desire it so very much.

"Priestess," you begin again, lowering your tone, "we're in public."

"Oh?" There's a purr to her voice, a sly and seductive tinge that sets your hairs on edge. "So you've suddenly given up the taste for adventure?"

Bold. Defiant. Relentless. There's only the smallest edge of uncertainty on her lips, but when her gaze lingers on you, all doubt and reservations dissolve. Her eyes dart to a point and then they're back on you, insistent and firm.

Though a tad scandalized, you eventually relent and let Priestess explore further. Not that you have the bravery or spite to deny her further play anyway.

Through the sliver in the fabric of your pants, she worms a singular digit beneath and begins poking and prodding around. Focusing first on those loose edges, she eventually finds where your shaft slumbers and idles. Her adept hand gently fishes out her prize. There's the slightest pull-and-shuffle around the upper section of your garment as she lifts your length from the depths and into the world of the free.

"My, my," Priestess quips, eyes widened and with a distinct twinkle in her eyes. "For someone so against such exhibitions, you appear rather ready for the occasion, yes?"

"I think I'd like to blame my dearest lover," you mutter, feigning annoyance as best as possible. Judging from Priestess' giggles, it must seem real enough. "Now, be a good girl and at least finish your work."

For a moment, her expression twitches, flushing a fine shade of red, and then it's back to that prim and proper veneer. Her hand makes a quick series of curt strokes over and down your erection, which springs to life in an instant under her touch. Precum forms at the tip and, at some unseen cue, her fingers return and begin collecting the gathered fluid. Spreading it, soaking you, making things considerably easier.

Priestess returns to paying attention to the lecture, even as her hand runs its course over the entirety of your prick. Slow, gradual motions up and down the length, playing you into the palm of her hand like some fiddle. All the while, a perpetual smile plays upon her gorgeous lips.

As for you, you don't glance at any other prying eyes, nor the stage or the holographic displays. No, your focus stays trained on your lover, the rise and fall of her chest, the subtle contours of her face as she feigns her studious countenance. After a long trip to a distant, far-off world, this certainly was not what you'd expected. A welcome surprise, sure, but still a surprise nonetheless.

Her eyes constantly scan the diagrams to their left and the projected speaker floating in midair before her. Maybe taking notes in her head, maybe not. You can't tell. Rather, her breathing is more gentle than normal, perhaps in an effort to make less noise. Her scent, a lovely mix of flowers and lilacs and tea continues to ensnare you as you fidget. Not a word is spoken as the world continues, her hand a constant and comforting pressure.

"Priestess," you keep muttering her name under your breath. "Priestess..."

"Now, dear, you wouldn't wish to alert our friends here. Be a darling and keep silent."

How does she keep such a cool head?

Like hell you will.

With the slightest shudder, a thin rivulet of liquid leaks and oozes from your tip. It pools between her cupped palm, slickening the surface with every tiny circular motion she delivers. Up, down, and up, then down once more, keeping a steady yet subdued pace that works you well and truly to a frenzy. Something about a soft-spoken, demure woman touching you in such ways, knowing she's in public and within plain sight, is just the right kind of intoxicating.

"I... want you so bad, Priestess," you hiss between gritted teeth. Stars Above, the idea of simply bending her over and slamming yourself against her should appeal. Damn the consequences. "We can get out of here and do... something. Anything, anywhere, I don't care."

As your body spasms at her fingertips, those dainty digits still working and pumping away at your stiffness, she chuckles. Even her breathy, fluttering words keep their sweet sense of decorum. "We have a long way to go until we're free to leave. Try and be patient, my love. We'd best not deprive ourselves of this enjoyable session."

"You're insufferable."

"Mm, but I am your best affliction, aren't I?"

Revenge needs not an elaborate scheme.

Quicker than the eyes could register, you shift your position in the chair and shove one hand up Priestess's skirt. Heat quickly diffuses, coating you in an instant. The woman has long learned to forgo underwear around you. Her thighs clamp together, a weak but admirable attempt to deny access. Yet her efforts are as futile as they are amusing. You part the way without qualms.

Despite her sharp gasp and the little, "Oh!" that escapes her throat, Priestess regains her composure far too quickly. Her fingers resume their trek and soon turn a tighter grip in response. At this point, your fingers halt at the apex of her loins, twitching inches away from diving into her tight, slick entrance.

"Now, now… Is this how a proper gentlemen would behave, I wonder?" A quizzical tilt. All signs of indignation disappear beneath the mask of a perfected smile. But from the way her thighs dance and shake in tension, as though waiting to clash and clamp closed at any second, her resolve is fraying. "What would you say about being selfish and uncouth?"

"Says the lady who started stroking me off in a public lecture," you say with a laugh.

"A private recital only us two can enjoy. Don't we need that between us?"

Stars, her voice turns you on. It's the coy, sultry implication every time that gives it its potency, making you feel as though the two of you stand alone in the universe. Fuck anyone or anything watching, you’d remain locked forever if need be.

"Mmph—! N-Now, please... I'd most welcome a demonstration." There's the briefest change of posture in her chair as she adjusts her legs. Every tiny bit of her fidgets and shifts slightly. "Quick and quiet. Discreet."

"Such a whore."

"Only for you," she shoots back.

The words alone bring an endearing and arousing image of her lusty, wanton grin to your brain. All further thoughts from there fly by the wayside. Your slick fingers crawl toward the folds and cleft of her body, dancing just at the crease, tantalizing and just shy. The same tactics as her. Keep up the illusion, so to speak. Play around the edges until she can no longer deny and has no choice but to bite back.

Eventually, you muster a few witty jabs of retaliation, peppering her ears with a bevy of whispered insults that mostly play around their derision. Words continue to bleed from her mouth, dripping and lewd, incoherent beyond the heavy breaths and intermittent tittering. Those perfectly kept eyes and lips painted a pretty red flutter about, skimming here and there on the notes provided but her mind is surely somewhere else.

Bullseye.

"Stars above, dearheart," Priestess' features wobble and twist, flashing you that perfect look. The one so drenched in affection and sin. "Tighten the reins, please. Your fingers are so warm, so maddening, I—"

The rest of her words die down.

Now, you're no complete novice when it comes to pleasuring your partner. You've slept with this woman so many times, her very core would be as familiar as any star map. Each bend and twist, her reaction to the slightest lick or affection, all committed to memory. With that, it becomes almost instinctual where and when the right tugs and twists and caresses and squeezes fit into her desire.

What fun she's earned herself.

A little nibble over at her ear as reward. Your teasing takes advantage of her distracted state. Two delicate digits slip their way past the wetted, puffy lips, driving your fingers deeper and deeper into her depths. She twitches from shock. Back arches and toes curl, her legs shifting. At first, there's an attempt to stop and deny, her frame tensing beneath the sudden intrusion, but her reluctance soon fades once the flow continues.

Still, that faint amount of self-control—just enough, at least—surprises you. Somehow, amidst her whimpers and quiet thrashing, Priestess keeps relatively reserved, aside from how she trembles in her seat. Biting at her bottom lip, the brunette keeps her flushed features poised. Even with how she clearly resists the need to flop forward, letting her hair spill all over the table, even with her labored breathing and bucking hips. Priestess does her utmost best to refrain from losing herself completely.

One last push might help, though.

You crane your neck slightly.

When Priestess mouths what seems like something—a mild protest, perhaps?—words are lost in the air between the both of you. You take advantage of the moment. A fleeting, playful peck as your lips press down on hers, gently suckling her soft bottom lip. With each tender, patient nip, there's a shudder that follows. It's a perfect combination, the kisses mixed with her hand, wrapped, and squeezed snug around your cock as you play with her snatch.

Miraculously, not a single head so much as spins toward the two of you.

With a subtle thrust upward and down, you feel her clit roll between the joints of your thumb and index. That is met with a subdued whimper, and a harder squeezing upon your member. Gently rubbing, pinching, sometimes plucking and twirling the small but sensitive ball. Whenever her body or throat buzzes in protest, the quick flick of your wrist to thrust into her twat comes to match.

This would be one way to spend the remainder of the recital.

"Have I ever told you how gorgeous you look when you cum?" are the next words. After a few more presses, her hips buck and tighten, locking onto your soaked digits. "How damn adorable those gasps are, how sexy it is when your cheeks light up, and every other amazing thing you are when under me."

Flick.

"Cum for me, Priestess," you whisper, then bite down on her lobe. "Make a mess all over yourself."

In that half-instant, your lover comes completely unglued.

Lewdly, your lover's frame vibrates in response. Everything tenses and bends around you, the firm clamp and pull of inner muscles drawing even closer. Hot. Slick. Gooey. Their throbbing embrace massages your fingers, sucking and milking in desperation. Priestess' voice cracks and falters. Moans die in her throat, breath hitches and seizes, a few globs of thick, runny drool oozing past the corner of her lips and down her cheek. Every nerve drawn taught along her back hums and quivers like plucked piano strings.

Your own climax follows shortly after, the fluttering sensations deep, far-reaching, sweeping a pleasant warmth from your core throughout the entirety of your anatomy. Thankfully, despite her own lack of focus, Priestess doesn't forget to quickly procure a spare handkerchief and place it close to your dick. Every jet of cum comes out stiff and solid, spewing inside the fine fabric.

No-one catches on.

Stifling a grunt by gritting your teeth, you finish with a quick flourish and retreat. That doesn't keep the smirk away, a smug sense of satisfaction blossoming within when Priestess flops onto the tabletop. Eyes still cloudy, woozy, and breath coming out in uneven and heavy gusts. Eventually, your bodies return to a calmer, steadier state. You wipe yourself and then sit still, basking in the shared warmth between your hands.

Then you feel Priestess poke you again in the ribs.

Glancing to the side, you find your beloved linguist presenting the handkerchief, the insides thoroughly soaked with sticky cream. There's a subtle bounce of her eyebrows, the faint smile still crooked. Oh yes, those big purple eyes flash an all-too-obvious hunger. Her intent is clear.

And you're absolutely alright with that.

You watch as Priestess lifts the sodden cloth close to her mouth, slurping and suckling the remnants of your milk, gulping it in one, swift swallow. After her tongue twirls to the satisfaction, savoring the remnants, she licks the whole surface spotless. Then, without another word, she gently folds it into a square and returns it back to its place.

How much filth did you drag out of this darling little lady after you came into her life?

Priestess smiles, that beautiful, innocent, and (somewhat) unblemished grin as her face goes red and burns a bright hue. The lady tilts her head and bats her pretty eyelashes. There are stars shining in the violet of those pristine jewels. By now, the remaining facets of her guile-laced, sweet image have crumbled entirely. In all the time you've spent together, you know how deep her depravity goes, so her behavior and openness about her particular tastes doesn't exactly surprise you, merely how she teases her sole audience. How easily you can guide her to a shameful and submissive heap is the remarkable thing.

Sometimes, it feels like she pushes you to the limits.

Regardless, you take her in—the slight stain on her lips, the lustful flame flashing in her eyes—as you muse over the full effects of your presence. Both your digits rest along the curve of her cheek, feeling the exquisite warmth emanate from those pinked, dusted spots.

"I love you," you mumble absently, letting the words flow freely, unfettered.

The pinkish hue intensifies.

"And I love you too, Oracle."

And what a pair you two make. Oracle and his Priestess. Priestess and her Oracle.

Come what may, you and her would weather through it all.

Together.

Chapter Text

"Do you believe in God, Oracle?"

You blink at the question.

From across the table, Priestess stares at you with clasped hands, that winsome smile of hers playing gently upon her lips. Her amethyst eyes shimmer in quiet regard. Measuring. Assessing. A tilt of her head lends an adorable touch that almost makes you forget the weight of her inquiry.

"I believe in you."

"Come now, my love," Priestess pouts, shooting you a look. "I'm not fishing for flattery. I would rather have a good discussion. Something to test the old ruminations."

After a few more dainty bites, you set down your cutlery and give her a brief nod.

"How would you define God then, as a woman of science and discovery?" you ask, leaning back in your chair.

Priestess's fingers tape upon her chin. "Fundamentally, I would assume a singular, all-powerful God is no different from how most religions perceive it. A monolithic figure or source of divine revelation and comfort. The final arbiter that would have the answers to every question in life."

"Is that so? I'd disagree."

Your lover graces you with a curious look and waits for you to continue.

"If God were to truly exist, despite our current knowledge and understanding of the universe, then its existence must remain undefinable by nature," you explain. "Early on, many civilizations assume that a higher power would simply be an infinitely greater version of themselves, elevated beyond the limits of the mortal coil. We've seen little evidence to support such claim. These days, it'd make much more sense that it is an incomprehensible, esoteric force. A vast intellect that draws on scales and levers we cannot hope to guess ourselves, no matter how advanced we become."

"Forever alien and unreachable."

"Yes," you nod, taking another sip of wine. "Perhaps we might across an entity of undeniably supreme power in the future. But if the Almighty, we can know and define, then this entity loses its status. One-in-All becomes only one. A being of such caliber, while still supreme relative to us, is not God. I dare to leave my opinion at the possibility of something even greater."

Priestess keeps silent, her eyes narrowing in contemplation.

"Perhaps a tad Apophatic." You chuckle. "Enough discussion then, I suppose? I'd be glad to hear—"

"What if we could reach out to God?"

Priestess’s tone shifts lower, almost breathless. The hairs on your arm prickle. There's something... inexplicable in her reply.

"How do you mean?"

"A tangible, measurable answer to our reality. A channel of sorts. A direct interface with the source, the engine, and mastermind behind this existence, if it did exist," Priestess replies, leaning forward, voice crackling with hushed expectation. "One that'd deliver the unvarnished truth."

"An intriguing proposition." Folding your arms, your thoughts race with her musings. "And how would you propose we do that?"

"Language."

Of course.

Priestess is a tried-and-true linguist, though not in the typical sense. From the youngest age, she trained herself and honed her skills. Immersing herself in language, history, psychology, and all forms of other verbal oracles, human and not. That which connects humanity and other civilized species is perhaps the most valuable tool in this era.

For her, a woman who listens to the music of the spheres regularly, it's a step towards something more.

"But not just any language," she continues, eyes alight with an excitement you rarely see. She rises from her seat to pace around the room. "A universal one. Capturing information itself and transforming everything within us. An elevated height of thought, a mode, a paradigm. Words are the glue of understanding, and there exists a conceptual key for all-knowing."

You watch as your beloved Priestess mutters to herself, mulling over whatever niggling question is stuck in her mind, spooling into something greater and no doubt giving her that constant, pressing sensation of purpose. It happens every time she engages in her next great crusade, but even for her, she seems quite animated.

"You've been thinking about this a while, haven't you?"

Priestess twists her head around and favors you with a beatific smile. The blush that grows within her pale skin is warm enough to bring your own flesh to heat. Even her little giggle that echoes quietly between the two of you causes a jumpiness in the gut.

"Months now," she admits, scratching the nape of her neck. "Years, perhaps. Since before we'd even met. It would not cease. Something to discover, but also..."

Your gaze drifts to the window, to the endless void outside, far beyond the ship.

"...I still know nothing of the infinite cosmos, Oracle. If 'God' exists, then we, all of us, have hardly put a dent into comprehending the smallest fractions of our reality. No matter how much I collect, learn, or read, the surface only yields so much. Until, that is, I find a method to properly analyze. To find a truth unfettered by a veil of falsehoods or the presumptions of the shortsighted."

In that moment, you feel your heart swell. Your beloved holds her chin high, shoulders raised, legs poised. That drive to achieve, to pursue beyond expectation, to leave everything and everyone behind and forge ahead. It's brilliant testament that she alone could never have any equal.

Perhaps not even you.

Then Priestess turn backs to you, eyes shining with a familiar gleam, and the errant thought dies altogether.

"And I want you to be there with me, Oracle," she declares without wavering, stretching out her hand as she steps forward. A sign of an offer. "As you are. We've traveled these stars together, and much more. If there is any path, any chance, I would love to tread through the unknown with you."

What a sight she is.

At the core of everything she does, Priestess is beautiful, strong-willed and single-minded. She refuses to quit, especially in the pursuit of her dreams. You'd have no question that, wherever the two of you end up in the future, she's already made it a landmark for those to follow.

Perhaps the answer you'll meet with is beyond explanation.

It doesn't matter.

Taking Priestess' hand, her slender fingers engulf your palm in an inescapable grip. She tightens her clasp, drawing you ever-closer until her eyes are the only other thing in your orbit. Your heartbeat thunders and speeds away. That quiet, coy tug on her lips sends the rest of reality flying away.

There is nothing but your Priestess now.

"No matter the outcome, the two of us can take the leap," she continues. "After all, it would be foolish to stop now. Where else would I find my muse if not you? So will you stay with me?"

"Yes."

"You'll follow?"

"With everything I have, Priestess," you say, the promise binding the two of you into one. "With everything I have."

The kiss you share together warms you like the breath of a star.

Chapter Text

Priestess is submissive.

A word to describe that her devotion to you and the relationship you have is the greatest thrill one can experience. As a woman who always charges ahead, braving the unknown, holding dominance in her and seeing the joy flush upon her face whenever you bring her to heel feels like an otherworldly experience. Plenty to your advantage as you keep the control near-total in the bedroom.

Or anywhere else the two of you fancy, really.

The linguist lets out needy whine around your fingers. You play with her tongue expertly, rubbing and caressing it in ways that make even her brilliant mind short out. There's a dullness to those round, gorgeous eyes now. Enough to let you know she's relinquished her thoughts and allowed her body and its desires to rule, if only for a brief time.

"Such a pretty sight," you say with a husky chuckle.

Pulling away, you wipe the mixture of saliva and juice on her cheeks. Priestess maintains her kneeling position. Even as her body trembles and lurches and gives its hunger away, she's as composed as she possibly can be, trying her best not to succumb as she stares up at you with pure longing.

When she's like this, drugged and needy and drunk in your presence, she cannot resist.

And that's exactly how you like it.

Reclining in your armchair, the heat in your loins ebbs and grows. Your fingers find the edge of her chin, guiding her closer and further down, until you feel the rush of hot breath tickle your still-clothed, throbbing manhood. There's a light tremble of her nostrils, an unsteady gasp and then she clamps onto the fabric of your pants, tugging hard. With desperate, fumbling hands, Priestess tries to get them off, almost begging you outright, but then she denies herself. Instead, Priestess settles for prodding at the seams with her lips and teeth.

"Desperate little thing, are you?"

Priestess replies with a shake of her head, but despite that, her mouth makes an unerring path towards your bulge. Like a starving animal, her sharp sucks and nibbling pecks make faint imprints across the surface, and soon you can feel her tongue trace the contour of your dick. Even through the cloth, you feel the teasing touch, hot and wet.

"Please," she manages a gurgled moan, staring up at you from her glazed-over eyes, the most insatiable want present in them. "I need... I need to..."

A strained whimper tumbles past her open mouth, so dangerously close to the hidden tip, the warmth emanating off of her face and breathing seeps beneath your skin.

There's no more effort into pretense. No more waiting around, wasting all this precious time. Her mouth continues to crawl, dragging across the clothed length of your shaft. Up and down, back and forth, tracing the curved bulge. Sometimes nuzzling, sometimes rubbing and pressing, licking and suckling and slobbering the fabric so slick and wet with drool and the scent of lust.

It is simply you and Priestess.

Unable to contain yourself further, you start unbuttoning your trousers. A sigh of relief falls from your throat as you free your erection from its prison. One so heavy, hard, and solid Priestess lets out a squeal the moment she sees it bob forth and slap against her face. A dizzying musk follows shortly after, that intoxicating scent driving the brunette further into her trance.

"Go on," you urge with a subtle tilt of your cock towards her lips, brushing and running the tip over her face. You love the way her eyelashes flutter, her delicate little nose shivers and scrunches, her warm breath puffs right into its flesh. How every single muscle is drawn to the mighty rod on her face. "Tell me what you want, dear."

"Cock," she gasps out, smothering her face against the side and smooching with abandon. "I... need your cock in my throat."

And there it is.

"Then take it."

A carnal frenzy possesses Priestess, snarling as she cups your family jewels and swallows you whole. You suck air through your teeth. Stars burst behind the eyes. Priestess pays no heed, happily gulping down the entire meat, devouring her prize to the base, forcing the obstruction down and deep into her gullet. Clenching the armrest, your hips buck of their own accord. The act is more than welcome in its mindlessness. Without abandon or hesitation, Priestess holds nothing back, noisily slurping the length as her head bobs. The woman's nostrils flare, her tongue rolls and laves and chases the taste of skin, squeezing her cheeks to create that amazing taut sensation that works you up faster.

"Stars, you're beautiful," you groan, petting your lover as she gluts herself on your rod.

The linguist hums a noise of appreciation. Using her fingers to pump along the remaining portion of your shaft, Priestess returns to the tip and stops to shower you with loving attention. She peppers and flickers kisses and nips, running along its curvature to elicit further throaty purrs. As you watch her trace veins along the sides of your rod, Priestess keeps her eyes locked onto yours. Waiting. Wanting. Pleased.

It continues without pause.

Priestess returns her focus, slathering, sucking, and gagging herself on your cock. Head rolling forth, back, and around, the brunette has cast her reservations aside. It is more than apparent in how her eyelids flutter and half-mast eyes remain hypnotized by your very presence. Through the pleasure, she struggles to stay aware, even if it's half-conscious. Every bobble and wiggle and bob is another treat, and she smiles all the while.

If there was one thing in the universe she worships, it's you.

Priestess is absolutely feral, her hips moving about and thrusting her lower half forward in a desperate bid for some imagined cock in her cunt. Yet her priorities keep her glued in place. Even if that craving ache continues to deepen as she bobs. Up and down, slurping and twirling and feeling every inch of your veiny length. Using all her tricks and ministrations, even while fending off the urges to seek fulfillment in any other way. She takes your pleasure seriously, keeping herself balanced on her knees as you feel yourself rising above the clouds.

Focused solely on the pulsing, spit-soaked tool down her gullet.

Both your hands sink into those brunette tresses, grabbing fistfuls before you really get down to business. Priestess's moans grow high-pitched and whiny when you bury your fingers into her roots and truly pull her down. She doesn't mind one bit. In fact, the feel of her hair being held tight and yanked sends another shudder down her spine. That familiar spike hits in.

"You're mine," you murmur in earnest. "Mine."

Fervent nods return as confirmation.

Priestess makes a number of slurred noises at you, unable to muster proper words, but there's no doubting how the linguist's gaze lingers with adoration. Her tongue vibrates along the thick, engorged tip. Drunken, happy expressions surface the closer you get to release. More guttural grunts spill as her tongue teases into every crevice of the knob, the prickly sensation only forcing even tighter pleasure at the base of your spine.

"I'm close…!"

There isn't a moment of hesitation.

Swift hands wrap over your own, forcing them deep into her scalp. Taking the hint, you give Priestess' head a little wiggle. Then her throat opens up wide and chokes down on the shaft, bulging against her throat. There's no fighting now. Priestess gives a fierce and determined look, wet tears trickling down her cheeks.

The sight could rival all the galaxies in its beauty.

With an airtight fit, the warmth and tightness drowns you entirely, the pressure too much to handle. Your nerves explode the moment your orgasm hits hard and fast. A few short twitches send rope after rope straight into Priestess's belly. Aftershocks continue to wrack your frame while the woman's head remains firmly plastered to the base, holding there without pause.

Priestess only lets up once every last drop is extracted.

Slowly, her mouth slides off your wilting manhood. A lewd string of spit connects you two until Priestess's hand flies up and wipes it away. When she presents her tongue, clean from all your nectar, the brunette flashes you that unabashed, contented smile.

"How do I taste, dear?" you ask breathlessly.

Priestess leans forward and gingerly sucks the spittle clean off your cock, enjoying the excess tidbit before she pulls away and answers with a grin.

"Delicious."

Chapter Text

"Beautiful."

The awe in your lover's voice rings throughout the cavern, echoes melding into discordant strings. Cold air prickles at your exposed skin as you huddle against the wall. Even through layer, the chill never quite leaves your body.

Priestess stares at the fluttering insect closest to her, its bioluminescent wings swirling together two colors into a dreamlike haze. A brilliant sapphire makes each flap buzz a brilliant din. At the same time, its exoskeleton seems to radiate like white-gold and crimson. Even from here, the way Priestess absorbs the spectacle, the universe could probably fall apart and it wouldn't matter.

From the edge of a grotto, the massive sinkhole opens up to distant waters below. Though you can make out the reflective sheen of its surface, beyond the depths is an abyss too deep to possibly describe or understand. A massive throat that threatens to swallow everything whole, The thought is unnerving, to say the least.

Thankfully, the swarm offers a better distraction. Fluttering about, the glowing critters carelessly waltz and dance in the air, making pretty patterns and chittering for their audience of two. Against the dark walls of the cavern, these sparks make things that much brighter. Some go left, some right, others just circle in lazy formations, yet there's some manner of coordination present if you know where to look.

"Wonderful, isn't it?"

Nodding absently, you keep quiet as the two of you spectate. You had trekked the alien forest with Priestess a short while ago, heading deeper and deeper into the wild. While most folks would rightfully flee at the first sign of the dimming twilight, she sought out further from it all. Cackling as she yanked you across the land, moving past muddy puddles and brambly bushes, you caught wind of the creatures before too long. Priestess, well-accustomed to the wild, soon pinned their location down, rushing and dragging you to the brink, only stopping once the opening loomed in view.

After giving each other a few kisses in celebration, Priestess started scribbling away on her notepad. Transcribing notes. Counting numbers. Gathering data. Studying the exquisite swarm further and its behavior in its natural habitat.

"Dear Laurentina would prove uncharacteristic to not hold an interest in these patterns," Priestess adds, putting on a goofy smile. "The girl has a fascination for swarm intelligences beyond simple curiosity, you know? Though I suppose anyone with half a mind would."

"It's fantastic how they interact with each other."

"And further evidence towards a common trend." Priestess lifts one finger and starts circling it in the air, letting out a chuckle that ebbs from her throat. The few insects around her digit swivels, following her twisting movements as one would follow a conductor. "As silly as this might sound, our researchers think there is something to decipher there in the noise. Secret ciphers and signals. We've seen some animals behave the same, but these ones have a peculiar trait."

"What, like they're actually communicating as we do? Talking in some fashion?"

"We're not sure," Priestess replies with a shrug. "Whatever the means, their group cohesion has proven to be quite impressive across multiple samples, even when compared to other similar species."

That's when your lover pokes you on the side, giving you a smirk and that half-lidded gaze.

"Could be that they're just singing to each other, whistling their life away."

With a playful prod, Priestess snickers to herself and bounces closer toward the swarm. Naturally, their humming circles around her body. Her figure is doused in the myriad of blues and reds, the colors complementing and shifting her skin tone like it was canvas. Sometimes they flutter near her hair, which sways about. Other times, the insects will cross her face and tickle her cheek. She lets out a light giggle and tries her best to gently swat them away from her spectacles.

You don't know how to define your feelings at the sight. Maybe love. Maybe longing.

It's the latter that takes the upper hand.

You march over to the grinning woman, who doesn't seem to notice until your bodies collide.

"Oracle!"

Priestess shoots you a funny look. As if catching onto some hidden thought within, a cheeky smile blooms on her lips. "My, my. A little eager, aren't we? A-Aha... please take it easy, will you? Our equipment is packed and ready, though I wonder if—"

Words die once you grab her shoulder and spun Priestess away, right into the firm cave wall. Bracing and holding back the pain at the impact, her lips struggle to find words. Before she can protest, they're smothered with the heat of a kiss. There's no denying the sheer passion, the sudden flame that ignites between the two of you as you mashed your lips together. Tongue licks meet tongue, you tasting every inch of her beautiful maw. After you come up for air, her eyes open and the surprise that is present is clearly tinged with more arousal.

"Let's see how well you sing, then."

And Priestess's grin somehow widens even more, wide and toothy and perfect.

Her.

"Dance with me first, my love," she whispers. "This tune is ours."

Holding her by the waist, you draw her closer. There's a tiny smirk turning the corner of her plush, ruby-red lips. She teases, and yet remains so, so much like a marble statue of days long past. All yours, cast out of gleaming metal and shining aurums, her voice like silk.

A step, two, a flurry of a third.

You follow along. Leading her into the next spin, hand stretching out like a crane, fingers interlocked. Reeling the orbiting star in and feeling her own gravity against you. She laughs, blissful and floating on the wind. Her eyes flicker with delight as your feet move in time with hers, twirling the linguist by the nape and wrapping an arm around her middle. The glow from the flutter-swarm adds another shine to her face.

"Goodness! Slow down, now!" Priestess calls out through her pealing laughter. "Mind you don't jostle us. We might take a rather sudden trip down, you know?"

You merely respond by dipping her and bringing your noses close.

Her arms secure themselves around your neck. You slip, closer and closer, until you fit against one another, tautly. Underneath the glimmering swarm, her violet eyes shine through, lips redder than rubies, and skin a blinding pearl. The sight forces a tightening sensation around your throat, the sounds of the thronging glow-critters fading away.

Nothing remains.

"I love you," you mumble through a heavy breath.

Her reply comes in the form of a sweet, chaste kiss. One that sends a burn coursing through your entire being. Aching. Exquisitely so. It drives you on and heightens your need further, knowing that there's no greater beauty here than her.

She sings a different song entirely. A poem. A spell. A mantra of her own.

All of it is sung to you.