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Tissaia de Vries' alluring beauty is dangerous, hides everything dark that lurks underneath, which makes her all the more intriguing. Calanthe knows that she should be particularly careful with what she says and thinks, has obviously heard of the woman's magical abilities, but she finds it rather difficult. Not merely because Tissaia is captivating, but also because she is a woman who wields a certain influence, just like the queen. Common grounds are rare within their society, so Calanthe figures she can be forgiven for trying to find similarities. This sorceress is the only exception to the queen's usually stubborn ways. 

Calanthe isn't sure how it happens, but at some point she finds herself spilling forth a truth. It may be the slight amount of alcohol, it may be loneliness, it may be the disarming twinkle in Tissaia's pretty eyes. The queen wants to tell herself that she has always been weak for women like her, but there is no one like Tissaia. The thought consoles Calanthe a bit. 

"I am close to beginning my third decade, and I have yet to bed someone who wants me, not my throne." She loathes herself the second she says it, damning herself for sounding like a cliche, naive princess, waiting for her knight in shining armor. She scoffs.

Tissaia only looks at her with something akin to sympathy, certainly speaking from personal experience when she opens her mouth. "It's a burden all women in positions of power carry, I'm afraid." 

The sorceress doesn't strike Calanthe as someone who has a loose tongue, especially when it comes to matters like this. Calanthe asks anyway - she wants to know if her boldness would scare the woman off. She'd be disappointed if the answer were yes. 

"Have you ever fucked someone you actually respected?" 

Tissaia turns her head to stare right into Calanthe's eyes, smirking at her devilishly. It does something to the queen's insides, so she clenches her thighs together, trying to be as subtle as possible.

"Show me to your chambers," Tissaia demands then instead of answering, standing up with an air of finality. Her confidence coupled with her unreadable facade is insanely attractive, Calanthe muses. 

She unfathomably complies, she doesn't understand why either. Her mind is screaming at her that this is a bad idea, but damn, that woman holds too much power with her tempting appeal. She keeps stealing glances at Tissaia on their way, but her face and posture betray nothing further. Calanthe is overcome by a feeling of irrational jealousy - of the woman's veneer, of the control she has - but shuts it down quickly. She may be younger and mortal, but she convinces herself that she is everything Tissaia is, even without magic. Realistically speaking she knows that's not true, but never let it be said that the Lioness of Cintra is too proud for her own good.

The door closes behind them quietly, but neither of them moves much further into the room. Tissaia turns around, calmly taking in Calanthe's form as if to calculate her next step, her hands clasped in front of her stomach. Calanthe doesn't whither underneath the scrutiny, sees no reason to. Tissaia must have made up her mind when she speaks. Her voice is low, melodic, a honeyed warmth which sounds almost wrong coming from her.

"I know you don't trust anyone, and that is a wise decision. But I'm asking for your trust now, woman to woman." A pause. "Close your eyes for me." 

Calanthe hesitates for a few seconds, trying to discern Tissaia's plan. At least she would be killed by the only mage she respects. On the other hand, how likely is it for Tissaia to end her life right this second? She's had more than ample opportunity to do so before and this would be way too easy. 

Calanthe eventually acquiesces, her curiosity - and arousal which has been growing ever since she saw Tissaia, if she is being honest - winning the better of her. Every other sense immediately tunes in, trying to keep track of Tissaia's movements. 

Small hands gently grab her shoulders, slowly maneuvering her until she can lean against a wall. Her brows furrow in confusion. The woman's fingers deliberately move downwards to Calanthe's hips, taking hold of her there. The queen waits with bated breath for what happens next. 

Calanthe can hear that Tissaia is coming even closer by the sound of short, light footsteps, until her glorious curves are pressed against her own, trapping Calanthe between her small body and the wall. The contrast between softness and coldness has no right being this exciting.

She catches a hint of the woman's perfume, something fresh that Calanthe's clouding mind can't quite figure out, but it's ravishing. Fingers trace up from her waist over her arm, coming to rest on her cheek, Tissaia's thumb stroking her almost tenderly. The woman's warm, minty breath is now caressing Calanthe's bare collarbones. Her heart is racing, goosebumps rising everywhere.

Usually the queen would act, barge right in and take what she wants. But for once in her life she waits, waits until she feels Tissaia's soft mouth ghosting over her neck. Calanthe knows Tissaia is a woman of sensuality, but this is something else. The sorceress' lips begin to graze over her skin, trailing a path up to her jawline, humming quietly as she goes, but never actually touching her. The queen groans. The thrill of being confronted by something her rational mind considers dangerous slowly shifts into pure exhilaration. 

Calanthe is aware that Tissaia is still fully collected while her own mind is entirely focused on the smaller woman, the sensations she elicits. The closeness is too much and not enough at the same time, equally sweet and torturous. 

Tissaia's lips are now less than a breath away from Calanthe's. Time seems to come to a stop when she waits there momentarily, the tension building exquisitely. The queen nearly combusts, desperate to taste Tissaia's lips. She has wanted to do so ever since the woman showed up on her doorsteps. And then Tissaia finally gives in. 

She is gentle, patient, but moves with insistence against the queen. It's incredible, the best kiss Calanthe's ever had. She has no other choice but to reciprocate. She ardently kisses back, her hands pulling Tissaia closer towards her. The woman smiles into the kiss at the act, and Calanthe begins smiling too. It's like swallowing a distinct sort of happiness that only comes with having another woman in one's arms. The feeling is amplified by said woman being Tissaia de Vries. 

Tissaia is a brilliant kisser, Calanthe finds, and suddenly wants to figure out if she is that good in bed too. She has a feeling that her impression will prove accurate. A moan escapes Calanthe at the thought, and it makes her bold. She deepens the kiss, licks her way into Tissaia's mouth. She delights in the gasp she receives, determined to draw out more sounds. The woman tastes so fucking good.

Her hands begin to wander over Tissaia's body, one resting at her nape and one holding onto her waist to keep Tissaia pressed against her. Calanthe's usual dominance comes back, so she turns them around, pushing Tissaia against the wall. She knows Tissaia wants to be in control, but she's not having it. She keeps grasping at the woman, intending to fill her hands with nothing but Tissaia. Her whole body is starting to tingle pleasantly. 

Calanthe moves her kisses lower, down Tissaia's slender neck. She takes an irritating amount of pride in the shiver her mouth elicits. Tissaia tilts her head, giving Calanthe more room to work. She sucks a small mark at the crook where shoulder meets neck, licks over it to soothe the sting. It's unplanned, and usually Calanthe would have stopped herself, but she always knew that impulsivity would be her downfall. She can feel that the smaller woman has to bite back a moan as her teeth graze over the delicate skin of her throat. Tissaia's hands clutch at her frantically, their movements now frenzied and uncoordinated, but it's perfect.

"You respect me then?" Calanthe growls against Tissaia's jaw.

"Yes. Stop talking. Take me," the woman groans between kisses. 

The fervour and command behind Tissaia's words surprise Calanthe, but oh, she doesn't need to be told twice. She wants to see the woman utterly debauched. Her erratic heart is not within her rule anymore as she pulls Tissaia away from the wall and towards her bed.

Tissaia takes the lead, not ready to give up the upper hand fully just yet, eagerly starting to undress Calanthe. The queen lets her, simply because she enjoys this side of the usually controlled woman. The sorceress removes her clothes and her weapons, smirks at how many daggers she finds strewn across the queen's body which really shouldn't be where they are. Her dainty fingers light up sparks wherever they touch Calanthe.  

Calanthe knows that many women are turned on by her muscles and scars, and Tissaia appears to be no exception. The woman bites her lip as she takes in the sight of the queen, before telling Calanthe to sit down at the edge of her bed. She surprises herself again as she complies a third time. Maybe she shouldn't count, it's almost disconcerting, especially after she just concluded that she wants to be the more dominant part.

Calanthe stops thinking as Tissaia steps away from her to take off her own dress. She almost feels sad, being denied the opportunity to rip off the woman's clothes, but it makes sense. Tissaia would hardly appreciate the ruination of those fine fabrics. The woman's methodical nature shines through as she slowly, agonizingly slowly, reveals every inch of creamy skin to the queen's hungry gaze - the swell of full breasts and small nipples, the soft plain of her stomach, the exquisite dip of her waist and the lovely curves of her hips. She has imagined how easy it must be for Tissaia to seduce people, but it's different when she is presented with the evidence. Calanthe has to remind herself to breathe. She wants to touch the woman everywhere

The wetness between her legs has been present ever since Tissaia first smirked at her, and it's even more noticable now. She can't quite manage to be embarrassed though. 

When the dress finally drops to the floor, the queen motions for Tissaia to come back to her with a finger, keeping eye contact. As soon as she is within reach, she pulls the woman into her lap by her hands. They both sigh at the feeling of bare skin against bare skin before Calanthe kisses Tissaia deeply. 

Her hands stroke over every centimeter of the woman's body, grabbing and squeezing and grazing gently, trying to memorize her shape. Tissaia holds on to her tightly, pushing herself further into the muscular frame of the queen. 

Calanthe takes special interest in Tissaia's bottom, spanking her lightly. Calanthe hopes Tissaia has a taste for that and, judging from her reaction, her soft moans and a small smile, she is very sure that the woman does. Good. 

Tissaia starts to move her hips in a slow rhythm, grinding leisurely against Calanthe. The feeling of those breasts against her own disengages the connection between Calanthe's thoughts and mouth. 

"I want to fuck you with the hilt of my sword."

Tissaia looks rather unimpressed as she reluctantly pulls away from the queen's lips. "You would cut yourself."

"Is that your only concern?" 

The question makes the woman laugh, bright and beautiful. "I'd prefer your fingers for now." 

"And then my dagger in a scabbard. I've always wanted to try that." 

Calanthe receives an almost convincing glare in response, but it's ruined by the beautiful disarray that is Tissaia's hair. Fair enough, but also a bit disappointing. 

"What about my favorite toy?" 

"Depends on what it is." Tissaia eyes twinkle with mischief. 

"A toy cock shaped like the hilt of my favorite dagger."

She had expected another rebuke, but Tissaia looks like she is very interested in the idea, a slight blush on her cheeks as she shakes her head in disbelief. 

"Warm a woman up first," is breathed against Calanthe's ear then. 

Dear gods, how do people resist this sorceress. Even without the use of magic Tissaia is utterly bewitching. Well, she hopes she hasn't been enchanted, but she hasn't pegged the sorceress for someone who is dishonest.

And so, Calanthe does as she is told, again. She was never really keen on being a hormonal mess and wants to be infuriated, but she is just too far gone to care.

She moves her kisses from Tissaia's neck to her chest, taking a hard nipple into her mouth, licking gently. Tissaia moans, cups Calanthe's face to keep her there. The longer she spends doing this, the more apparent it becomes that Tissaia is surprisingly sensitive, barely able to prevent the squirming. The queen's other hand begins to pinch the nipple that has been neglected until now, pulling a bit, earning a low groan. The fact that Tissaia seems to enjoy a tiny bit of pain is delightful knowledge. She muses about whether it's caused by necessity, certainly can relate if that's the case.

Calanthe knows just how turned on the woman is, because she is in the same situation. So, her free hand slowly finds its way from Tissaia's butt to her core. The woman bites her lip in anticipation, intently watching Calanthe's movements. Calanthe hums in appreciations at the wetness she feels between Tissaia's thighs, begins stroking gently. Tissaia accidentally whimpers at the touch, inhales shakily. 

Calanthe is too eager to take this slow, and the smaller woman seems to agree. It doesn't take long before Tissaia starts breathing heavily, her nails digging into Calanthe's shoulders. The sorceress leans in to kiss her sloppily until it becomes frantic, trying to encourage Calanthe to just fuck her already. It's a very effective method to convince the queen. The desperation still surprises Calanthe. She didn't think that Tissaia would give in to her desires, at least not so freely, that is. But she could never complain, takes it as a compliment instead. 

Calanthe is rather excited to use her favorite toy on Tissaia, knows that Tissaia feels the same way, so she pushes her fingers into the goddess on top of her. Goddess. It sounds romantic, kind of wrong, but it's true. No other word comes to mind, and Calanthe briefly ponders if Tissaia did bewitch her after all, but tosses the thought aside with the roll of her eyes. 

Tissaia groans throatily. It's an enticing sound, and Calanthe wants more - all - of them. The thrusts stay slow at first so Tissaia can get used to the feeling, but when Calanthe notices the quick heartbeat underneath her lips as she nips at Tissaia's neck, she picks up the pace and intensity of her movements. The woman's head gracefully tips back as she begins to ride the fingers inside of her. Calanthe loves how tight and wet Tissaia is, clenching around her digits the closer she gets to orgasm. She curls her fingers, rubs Tissaia with her thumb. Maybe it's the impending climax, but the woman is remarkably uncaring of her composure. 

Calanthe's train of thought halts however, because suddenly she has an orgasming woman in her arms and lap. It's quick, far quicker than expected, and oh so wonderful. Calanthe takes immense pride in that but doesn't mention it, out of respect. The woman looks absolutely stunning in the throes of pleasure, moaning Calanthe's name as she comes, breathing erratically while her whole body shudders. The queen is enraptured, feels Tissaia's arousal dripping down her wrist and into her lap. 

When Tissaia opens her pretty eyes after regaining her breath, she smiles playfully before kissing Calanthe deeply, cupping her cheeks. She kind of expected the smaller woman to be embarrassed afterwards, but can't remember the logic behind the thought. The feeling of feverish skin underneath her fingertips drives the queen crazy with lust however, so she gets up and quite literally throws Tissaia onto the bed. 

The woman looks rather happy about this new development, even appears to be enjoying being manhandled. She begins to play with her own breasts propped up on her forearms, swirling her fingers around her nipples, looking wantonly at Calanthe as she pulls out the strap on. Tissaia de Vries, an eager lover. Who would have thought? Even more importantly, who else knows?

"So that's your favourite weapon? Impressive," Tissaia comments with a smirk. It sounds like a forbidden inside joke, is probably meant to be one. The humor catches Calanthe off-guard, but she doesn't show it, appreciates it silently.

Calanthe puts on her best feral smile as she strokes over the toy, almost with reverence. It feels so good, safe somehow, which is exactly why she wanted the hilt of her dagger replicated as a cock. Its girth is quite thick, remarkably bigger than the original, but still has the same shape. Its length is definitely not insignificant, but it is designed to neatly fit into the queen's hand and hopefully into someone else. She can't wait to find out, and, judging from her expression and elevated breathing, Tissaia is just as hungry too.

Calanthe adjusts the harness on her hips before crawling on top of Tissaia, dragging her hands and mouth over heated skin. She explores every single inch she can reach, kissing, nipping and licking as she goes, listening to the addicting noises Tissaia's makes. 

Calanthe is rarely a possessive lover, and Tissaia is probably the last person who wants to be possessed, but gods, she needs Tissaia to remember this even centuries after her hopefully heroic death. It's like her own personal legacy, to leave a permanent scar on the smaller woman. It's selfish but also necessary somehow, vital. Thus, she leaves gorgeous marks on pale skin, creating love bites and bruises, scratching over the woman's rip cage with her nails. Tissaia's moans are breathtaking. She knows that the woman only allows this for her benefit, will vanish the marks sooner or later, but for now Calanthe wants to believe that the opposite will happen. 

Tissaia is growing restless, Calanthe knows, bucking her hips in an unexpected demonstration of impatience, pressing herself closer into the queen's touch as if she didn't already come merely a few minutes ago. It's oddly endearing, to see the always so collected woman act like this.

Calanthe still spends a lot of time caressing Tissaia's breasts, licking her sensitive nipples, sucking gently. Calanthe notices that the woman arches her back ever so slightly to push herself further into Calanthe's mouth, and it makes the ache between her own legs almost unbearable. Still, she forces herself to move farther down to Tissaia's thighs, treating them as her canvas. There is something particularly enticing about the woman's legs, probably because they are always hidden from view, unlike the woman's delicate wrists or the barest hint of a collarbone. The queen knows it's the sorceress' armour, but the way she dresses certainly begs to trigger one's imagination. Calanthe loves dragging her calloused hands across the soft skin of Tissaia's thighs that are finally, wonderfully on display and able to be touched.

When the woman whimpers again, Calanthe doesn't have it in her to keep either of them waiting anymore - has never been the patient type - so she kisses Tissaia passionately once more before she sits up. The smaller woman doesn't look like this bothers her, quite the contrary actually. She takes hold of Tissaia's thighs, shoving them up her sides, and covers the toy with Tissaia's arousal, dragging the cock through her wetness. Heavens, she is more than ready for this. After receiving an encouraging nod from the sorceress, she carefully pushes into her while soothingly rubbing her clit.  

Her mouth drops open as Calanthe fills her, grabbing the covers to hold on to something while looking right into the queen's eyes.

Whoever said that Tissaia de Vries has a stick up her oh so pretty ass could not have been more wrong. She is a damn sight to behold, especially like this. Once again it strikes Calanthe as odd that Tissaia appears so open, especially for someone who guards herself like her life depends on it because it does. And that's when she realizes that Tissaia actually trusts her, in an unspeakable, unfathomable way. The sorceress always has a certain air of secrecy and mystery about her, which is as infuriating as it is enthralling. It's gratifying to know that Calanthe gets to experience the smaller woman like this, and while she doesn't fully comprehend it, she wants to make this good for Tissaia, now more than ever. As a reward so to speak.

Thus Calanthe takes her time, completely getting lost in the sight and feel of Tissaia writhing underneath her. The smaller woman is utterly captivating. It's not a new revelation, but it's still true. She is graceful, elegant, even while being fucked. Calanthe would muse about how Tissaia is so heavenly sensual even as she succumbs to her carnal desires, but decides to just relish this. Calanthe's thrusts stay shallow and soft for long minutes, the queen enjoying the view of bouncing breasts and Tissaia's visibly growing want, until the smaller woman demands more, eyes full of desire. 

"Deeper," she rasps then.

"Fuck," Calanthe growls as she leans forward, thrusting into the woman until she can't go any further, using her hips to push. Complying has never been so easy, not that she'll ever let anyone know. The fact that Tissaia doesn't shy away from asking for what she wants makes Calanthe's blood roar, her throaty voice enough to let her entire being sing for the woman's touch even as Tissaia frantically grasps at her. It's entirely confusing, this feeling, so the queen forces herself to focus on Tissaia, who is biting her lip so sweetly in a pointless attempt at staying at least somewhat quiet.

Tissaia hooks her legs around Calanthe's waist at some point, pulling her closer by wrapping her arms around the queen's neck. She kisses Tissaia again, needing to feel those talented lips against her own. She swallows the woman's groans and moans with gratitude. It's absolutely thrilling to see and hear her like this. 

"Do you want to feel it?" Tissaia punches out between gasps, grabbing Calanthe's strong arms, clinging to her. "What it's like being inside of me?" 

Calanthe has the sneaking suspicion that she is not talking about fingers, so it must involve magic somehow, but then Tissaia loudly moans her name, and Calanthe doesn't care anymore, throwing caution to the wind. She nods, trying to mentally and physically prepare herself for what follows. She watches as Tissaia waves her hand, muttering a silent spell. Calanthe has no brain power left to be wary, instead ponders why the Rectoress knows the enchantment in the first place. 

She would smirk but suddenly finds herself overwhelmed by sensations flooding every single cell despite her best efforts. The toy cock isn't much of a toy anymore, more like an actual part of her body. She can feel every miniscule twitch and muscle ripple around her new appendage, can feel how wet and tight Tissaia is even without the use of her fingers. Calanthe struggles to keep herself upright, panting as each sense is filled with the smaller woman. 

This is unlike anything else Calanthe has ever experienced, so incredibly intense, so much better. She doesn't really like cocks and all they entail, all their masculinity and foolishness, but maybe she needs to rethink this assessment. 

Calanthe starts pushing in faster, suddenly not only chasing Tissaia's orgasm but her own too. Maybe she does understand now why men rarely last long. Her entire being is focused on coming to a monumental end, to see Tissaia shudder and buck underneath her, and listen to all the noises she makes as she orgasms too, knowing she was the one who gave the smaller woman those moments of unadulterated bliss. 

The woman's eyelids have become heavy, only halfway open by now, her nails scratching at Calanthe's back as she begins to move her hips, eagerly meeting the queen's thrusts. Heavens. She buries her face in the sorceress' neck, scraping her teeth over the soft skin there while she braces herself on her forearms next to each side of Tissaia's head, their chests now pressed together. Tissaia seems to have a slight obsession with Calanthe's muscles, her hands immediately grabbing her upper arms. Her nails dig in slightly to deep, no doubt leaving indents, but it stings so pleasantly.

Every damn nerve ending in Calanthe's body lights up as fire runs through her veins, or maybe it's lightning, Calanthe can't tell. Tissaia seems to be in a similar predicament - she is mumbling incoherent nonsense, either praise or something akin to begging. Calanthe isn't sure but gods, she can't wait any longer. The image of Arch Mistress and Rectoress Tissaia de Vries turned into an insanely erotic mess loosens something within Calanthe.

The queen is known for her ferocity, and this whole situation reminds her of her most hated and beloved character trait. She picks up the pace once more, pushing in even deeper and angling the cock until it hits Tissaia's most sensitive spot again and again. She knows she's found it when the woman lets out a strangled scream as she throws her head back, her brows furrowing as Calanthe pounds into her. She suddenly has the urge to pin Tissaia's arms above her head, but her own arms are trembling slightly and this is embarrassing.

So Calanthe settles on cupping Tissaia's cheek, now able to look into her eyes. The woman's blue depths are glazed over, and it's overpowering to see. She crushes their lips together into a frenzied kiss, tasting Tissaia's moans, the sorceress trying to give as good as she gets. The clenching of Tissaia's muscles around the cock intensifies beautifully, throbbing heat clinging to her, and Calanthe knows that she will come sooner than she'd like. It's like that errant thought alone is responsible for what happens next, because suddenly, she can't think anything at all. 

Calanthe explodes without further warning, entirely aware of every wonderful, mind-blowing quiver running through herself and the smaller woman, who must be experiencing similar sensations. An almost overwhelming thrill runs up her spine, down her legs and arms into her toes and fingertips, before she flies out of her body for an unidentifiable amount of time. It's the most earth-shattering orgasm Calanthe has ever felt. When she comes back to earth, she is utterly spent and completely blissed out. Nothing exists but the feelings of pleasure and contentment which suffuse her entire frame, and the woman who is still shuddering underneath her, moaning her name in the most mesmerizing way. Gods, who gave Tissaia the right to be so gorgeous while appearing to come ridiculously hard too.

Calanthe has always felt attracted to women, but this is something else. Of course it's not love, she is not a fool and neither is Tissaia. Yet this feels important somehow, indescribably so, although this is about the pleasures of the flesh. And there are so many with Tissaia involved.

Her whole body is too heavy to move afterwards, but it's just so good. They stay like that for a while, calming down and catching their breaths. Calanthe notices Tissaia tracing gentle patterns on her arms with her fingertips, and she hums quietly in response. The queen relishes the panting tangle of sweaty limbs they have become.

She turns her head a bit, admiring the flush on Tissaia's cheeks, and catches a brief flash of worry in the other woman's eyes. And this she can't handle. Calanthe doesn't know why Tissaia would have any concerns right now, and absolutely has never been good at comforting herself, let alone someone else. So she does the only thing she can think of and kisses the woman until every unpleasant thought dissipates. The method proves to be very effective.

"Why do you have a toy cock shaped like the hilt of your favourite dagger?" Tissaia asks when they part, curiosity brimming in her gaze.

"Why would I want one in the shape of my second favourite?" 

Tissaia can't quite suppress a groan, looking like she wants to say something, but instead opts to kiss Calanthe some more. 

"I think you should sit on my face next." 

"Only if you let me suck my come off your toy beforehand. I'll keep it enchanted."