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scars on my back from your knife

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Arsyn and Catastrophe may have a tumultuous relationship (to say the least) but it’s a goddamn supernova no matter how you look at it.

They know what each other needs, and sometimes, they decide to indulge the other. High heels shoved into stomachs and kicked against shins give way to sharp and pristinely manicured nails shoved inside wet pussies and bite marks and scratches marring porcelain and caramel necks and breasts and backs. They don’t really know what each other likes, and they don’t really care.

They’re carnal and devilish - never gentle, never kind, never loving. Their hands squeeze and pull and push and scratch, but they never stroke or sooth or tenderly caress. They choke and smack; they can come sweatily and saccharinely, but docility is never an option. Niceties bear little import and pleasantries are seldom exchanged; their mouths insatiably busy themselves, corrupting everything they can come in contact with.

Whichever woman first decides to do it at any given rendezvous roughly fucks the other, most often through each and every orifice they can manage.

Sometimes with and sometimes without a strap-on, Arysn revels in grinding against Catastrophe’s face, holding her tightly by her short hair or by a chain around her neck to keep her close, close, closer as Arsyn fucks her mouth and throat to the point of tears and gagging.

Catastrophe, though, prefers the ease of wrapping her thighs around either side of Arysn’s face and pressing her dripping pussy into her watering mouth, clamped down almost tightly enough to suffocate, or pushing into her from behind, with the front side of Arsyn’s body shoved into whatever makes most sense, bed or table or floor, tits forced flat against the surface and Catastrophe’s silicone cock pounding her pussy or ass. She gives only the littlest bit of care not to hurt Arsyn too badly, just as Arsyn does with her.

Besides, even if they were to get injured, anything less than a mortal wound is reparable, and Headquarters could make them good as new in a matter of hours.

In their world, good as new means ready for another round...and they wouldn’t have it any other way.