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“You're so pretty,” Mace purrs.
Letha flushes immediately, even though she knows Mace (probably) doesn't mean it. Mace is like that, drawing people in just to spit them out.
Letha is laid down on one of the hotel beds, and Mace is on top of her. They're both in their underwear but nothing has happened - yet.
Mace nuzzles into Letha's shoulder. She radiates warmth, and Letha would be lying if she said it wasn't pleasant. “You're so easy to fluster.” Letha can hear the smile in her voice, can practically feel it against her skin. “It's cute.”
Why are you being so nice to me.
Mace peers up at her, cheeky but fond, and Letha's heart melts, just a little. Suddenly she understands what Mace's girlfriends see in her, why Verthandi favors her so much.
Letha isn't like them. She knows what Mace is really like. She won't let herself be exploited.
But one hookup can't hurt, right? Everyone else does it, so why can't she?
Letha leans forward and hesitantly kisses Mace.
Mace's lips are thin and chapped. Letha keeps waiting for Mace to get greedy, to force her tongue into her mouth, but she seems content to let Letha set the pace for now.
Mace's knee slots easily between her thighs. Letha tenses, but Mace doesn't push or shove her leg upwards, just rests it there.
“Relax,” Mace says softly. Her breath is hot against Letha's lips. “I'm not doing anything you don't want.”
She doesn't know how to react to this sweet side of Mace. She's afraid to say anything in case it pisses off Mace and this entire thing (whatever it is) goes south.
“Come on,” Mace coaxes. “You can touch me.”
Letha slowly puts a shaky hand on Mace's cheek. Mace's eyes shut and she leans into the touch, mouth dropping open.
Entranced, Letha slides her thumb into Mace's mouth, and Mace closes her lips around it. Her mouth and tongue are just as warm as the rest of her, and soft too. Her teeth are sharp, but they never bite into Letha's skin, just scrape against. Mace keeps sucking even when Letha starts to draw her thumb out. The pad of her finger pulls down Mace's lower lip, and when Letha lifts her thumb it pops back up into place. The sound makes her shiver.
Mace gazes at her with hungry, half-lidded eyes. “God, Letha,” she rasps. “If your thumb tastes this good, what's the rest of you like?”
“Tastes good?” Letha repeats, head spinning. Heat is building in the pit of the stomach, stronger and hotter than she's ever felt.
Mace nods. “Yeah.” Her red tongue flicks out to swipe at her own upper lip. “Like fuckin’ candy.”
“O-Oh.” Mace's hands are moving, gently caressing her sides. It's very distracting for such a little thing.
Mace sits up, and Letha thinks that she's accidentally messed it up, said the wrong thing, and now Mace is going to laugh at her and reveal this was all a practical joke, and Ally and Verthandi and the entire world were watching, everyone is disgusted and everyone pities her.
Instead, what happens is Mace takes off her bra and kicks off her underwear. Letha tries not to stare. She's always been secretly a little jealous of Mace, of her crude brazenness, her jet black undercut and the tattoos on her hands.
Mace's body is littered with old scars. The only recent injury is a greenish bruise that blotches her hip. Mace has never been modest, enjoys flaunting the dress code, but Letha feels like she's seeing the flex and pull of her muscles for the first time. What she is seeing for the first time is Mace's pubic hair, scratchy where it rubs on Letha's bare skin.
(She saw Mace's breasts, once, spying through the crack between a door and a wall.)
Mace cards her fingers through those thick dark curls and parts herself, revealing her slick red labia. Her voice pitches upwards, breathy. “Baby, look how wet you got me.”
Letha suddenly feels very small. “I-I did that?”
“Mhhm. Let me make you feel good.” Mace leans over, thumbs at the band of Letha's bra. Something dark and fanged brews behind her eyes, but Letha is too aroused to care.
“Yes. Yes please.”
Mace is already moving to take off Letha's bra, and she shifts so Mace's clever hands can unhook it - the same hands that take shameless glee in slaughter, but Letha doesn't think about that. Instead, she thinks about how Mace brings her mouth down to kiss her breasts, the hot lap of her tongue against cool skin.
“Mace,” Letha gasps. Her hands grasp and tug at the other woman's hair of their own volition. This only encourages Mace; those sharp teeth graze against tender skin and she dips a hand between Letha's thighs. She grunts, apparently frustrated with the barrier of fabric, and pushes it aside to rub Letha's slit.
Letha throws her head back and bites her lips red to keep some embarrassing sounds from escaping her. Her legs part as Mace circles closer to her entrance, but never pushes a finger in. Letha has never been more aware of how badly she wants to be filled, to be complete.
“Please,” Letha wheezes, but Mace shushes her and bites down on her nipple, sending Letha's eyes rolling back into her head.
Without warning, Mace flips Letha over onto her stomach like she weighs nothing. She spreads the lips of Letha's vulva and says fondly, “Sweet thing.”
Two fingers push into her pussy, and Letha has to bite the pillow to keep quiet. Mace’s fingers are only halfway inside of her but they feel huge and violating, eye-wateringly so.
Soon Mace adds two more fingers. She can't get them very deep, but it still makes Letha squirm and gasp.
Mace goes slow, whispering assurances as she opens up Letha. “Hurts,” Letha whines.
“You can take it.” Mace keeps pushing in more of her hand, little by little.
“No - it's too much - ”
“You'll get used to it.”
Letha raised her head. Her vision is blurred with what she hasn't realized is tears. “You promise?”
“Yeah. You can handle it, baby. Relax.”
Mace's hand twists inside of her, and Letha screams. Her inner walls clench down as an intense orgasm rushes over her, leaving her limp and exhausted.
“Holy shit, Letha,” Mace says, sounding exhilarated. “Didn't know you were a squirter.”
“Sorry - ”
“Fuck no, don't apologize, that was fuckin’ beautiful.” Her words send Letha's heart fluttering, despite the fact that Mace is still wrist-deep inside her pussy. “You're gonna do it again for me.”
Letha doesn't have the strength in her to protest. Her heartbeat thumps in her ears. Every little movement makes her shake and blink more tears from her eyes. She's completely overwhelmed, body and mind. Mace keeps saying things like, “You're takin’ it so well, baby, your pretty cunt feels so fucking good,” and it all feeds into Letha's lust.
She climaxes around Mace's fist again, squirting all over the hotel sheets. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she feels bad for the housekeeping staff.
Letha moans wordlessly as Mace eases her hand out of her. Tears drip down her face. Her abused rim twitches around nothing as it tries to readjust to the absence.
Mace licks Letha's cum off of her hand, then rolls off of the bed. Letha blinks at her, tries to speak through the fuzz. “Where’re you going?”
“Smoke and a piss.”
Letha picked this hotel because it's non-smoking, and she hates the smell of Mace's cigarettes. Something about it is particularly foul and sometimes makes her nauseous. But her mouth is too heavy to say all of that, and Mace already has her lighter in head, so Letha closes her eyes and drifts off to sickly smelling smoke.