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[despitethenora]

[Out of habit, her greeting starts with a sigh. Hey, for a long time the only person who called her was Sylens, and it really set a tone for phone conversations. Be glad it's just a sigh.]

What do you need?

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Re: DAY 118 or so

[despitethenora]

[She won't look down at the hand. The hand is a distraction. Aloy's keeping her focus up on Tryse. She remembers that speed date, expects that Tryse will get some enjoyment out of what the witch is doing to her.

Let them wrap themselves up in the intimacy of it. Of burning up all the pent-up want Aloy's been carrying around.

The teasing has her shivering, pressing against Tryse's hand. Not long, though - fingers press, and Aloy hitches. It takes a little before she starts trying to figure out what to do with herself, feeling this.

Once her mind latches onto something, she's trying to capture Tryse's other hand, to drag it to her breast.]

You'll have to be the next performance.

Re: DAY 118 or so

[tryse]

[She curls again, then starts a slow, thrusting rhythm, getting Aloy used to the sensations. Thankfully, she keeps her nails short. But here, she strays slightly from her friend's fantasies, going with what Tryse knows she hasn't considered, what she can't really do to herself.

She chuckles softly into Aloy, and leans back a little. Her hand at the breast knows what Aloy wants, gives it to her. A tease of the nipple. A tweak, a tug. A caress, a little too rough to be gentle.]

Mm. Perhaps. But I think I'd rather drag an encore out of you, first. Perhaps two or three. You've much to learn, after all.

[She leans in, nips gently at Aloy's ear again.]

Like the sweet apple which reddens upon the topmost bough,
Atop on the topmost twig, — which the pluckers forgot, somehow, —
Forget it not, nay; but got it not, for none could get it till now.

Re: DAY 118 or so

[despitethenora]

[As non-musical as Aloy is, she can catch on to the rhythm. And too rough to be gentle was something she wanted. It's not singing, but she squirms a bit on the table, a pleased sound starting to come with her breath.

She doesn't have any banter, now. Just a shudder at the nip, and then - poetry. Adding the euphoria of an objective hit tears a moan out of Aloy.

It's unfair in the best way.]