[ she presses something of a sly smile to texas' lips, almost completely uncharacteristically soft and almost completely unlike her. how laughable it is that she'd happily shred the bodies of her enemies apart, casually threaten her underlings or be the most cordial face of customer service to strangers. happily accept after everything they'd been through, that she could be texas' friend. keep secret in her chest her real feelings, as disgustingly apparent as they might be. reluctantly admit to herself that despite their history she knows she's not the closest to texas or anything, but--
she knows her. she knows. she might dare to think and never admit she does actually know her the best after all. a pitiful woman who might never be totally truthful or honest even to her closest friend, who might never open herself to anyone... truly pathetic in a way even lappland herself has to struggle to sink to.
she really doesn't have time for that anymore, after a lifetime of being in love with her. this could be pleasure and just that, kissing her, nuzzling her, caressing those scars and marks on her body. ones she's familiar with and not. her obsessiveness battling with the careful and deliberate choice she's made of her heart. how she would kill for her or go to jail for her as a friend. she kisses thorough and yearning, and the pity and farce is in how she still thinks, she could possibly do even this as a friend. she finally knows she could spend time and energy and dedication to other goals. this is simply indulgence and nothing else.
she moves to push texas down on the cushioned seats, not even breaking the kiss, moving simply to be on top of her with a press of her claws to texas' shoulder. keeping their bodies in contact; and a subtle brush of her thighs as she grinds against texas, the fur of her and the wetness of her she'd share to texas as her body and scent warms with desire. ]
no subject
she knows her. she knows. she might dare to think and never admit she does actually know her the best after all. a pitiful woman who might never be totally truthful or honest even to her closest friend, who might never open herself to anyone... truly pathetic in a way even lappland herself has to struggle to sink to.
she really doesn't have time for that anymore, after a lifetime of being in love with her. this could be pleasure and just that, kissing her, nuzzling her, caressing those scars and marks on her body. ones she's familiar with and not. her obsessiveness battling with the careful and deliberate choice she's made of her heart. how she would kill for her or go to jail for her as a friend. she kisses thorough and yearning, and the pity and farce is in how she still thinks, she could possibly do even this as a friend. she finally knows she could spend time and energy and dedication to other goals. this is simply indulgence and nothing else.
she moves to push texas down on the cushioned seats, not even breaking the kiss, moving simply to be on top of her with a press of her claws to texas' shoulder. keeping their bodies in contact; and a subtle brush of her thighs as she grinds against texas, the fur of her and the wetness of her she'd share to texas as her body and scent warms with desire. ]