(One Piece) Decadence
July 22nd, 2011 17:37![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
salmon_pinkTitle: Decadence
Fandom: One Piece
Pairing: Robin/Vivi
Rating: NC-17
Words: 567
Notes: Voyeurism. For a prompt at the Third Annual Femslash Kink Meme.
Summary: The most beautiful display in Alabasta.
She’s exquisite like this. The princess of Alabasta, the hope of a nation, sprawled across dark silk sheets.
Pale skin flushed a delicate rose pink. Hair dampened by sweat at her temples and turning a deeper midnight blue. Coral lips parted as she gasps and pants, wordlessly begging for more.
Nico Robin sits apart, legs crossed and hands folded delicately over her knees. It might seem impersonal, maybe even cruel, but Robin understands that the distance is a necessity.
She can not be any closer without wanting to touch. She can not be any closer without risking her control. And for this, for the show she is helping Vivi enact, she needs her control.
Vivi’s eyes flutter shut, hands fisting in the sheets as her back arches from the bed in one beautifully fluid motion. Her skin glistens with exotic oils, the air fragrant with their perfumes, the flames of candles reflecting as light that dances over the swell of her chest.
Arms grow all around her, soothing her, easing her down, cradling her hips. Robin’s many hands reach for her like flowers yearning for Vivi’s sunlight. Fingers stroke through her hair, slide over fanned out thighs, grip the backs of knees and pinch at peaked nipples.
More fingers move between her legs, press into her, slick with her heat and desire. Opening her for their attention, moving in slow and steady rhythms that threaten to undo her. Thumbs circling and pressing at her clitoris, divine pressure, and Vivi moans, high and desperate.
Her legs try to draw together of their own accord, already driven to the edge so many times her body can not cope with the pleasure, her mind confused and dazed by it, but Robin’s hands blossom from thin air to hold her thighs firmly. They prise them apart, hold Vivi open, exposed and on display, her toes curling in the air.
Robin watches, eyes narrowing and a pink tongue slowly running across her bottom lip.
A hand settles over Vivi’s throat, a light pressure there claiming her, before it moves up to palm at the curve of her jaw. It pets at at Vivi’s mouth, thumb pressing inside, and Vivi licks and sucks as if that touch, that taste is the only thing grounding her, keeping her from floating away.
More hands run over Vivi’s chest, fingers slipping through the oil until the digits glisten, sleek and slippery. Tracing ribs and the curve of Vivi’s navel, dipping into the hollow of her hip. Moving lower, past the fingers that still curl and coax, thrusting and making her throb.
Lower, lower, until they find another entrance, and Vivi seems surprised at the throatiness of her own groan. Robin has never touched her there before, knows that nobody ever has, secret and forbidden. But now a single finger presses up into her, the motion made easy by oil and Vivi’s relaxed lethargy.
Vivi gasps and squirms and her heels press down into the bed, legs spreading further apart for it.
The finger slowly pulls out, and then it’s joined by a second, and this time when Vivi shouts, Robin shifts in her chair, eyes dark and hungry.
Vivi sucks at the thumb in her mouth, four fingers opening her in front and now two behind. Completely full, shaking with it, clenching and throbbing and swept away by it, and Robin sighs and enjoys the show.
Fandom: One Piece
Pairing: Robin/Vivi
Rating: NC-17
Words: 567
Notes: Voyeurism. For a prompt at the Third Annual Femslash Kink Meme.
Summary: The most beautiful display in Alabasta.
She’s exquisite like this. The princess of Alabasta, the hope of a nation, sprawled across dark silk sheets.
Pale skin flushed a delicate rose pink. Hair dampened by sweat at her temples and turning a deeper midnight blue. Coral lips parted as she gasps and pants, wordlessly begging for more.
Nico Robin sits apart, legs crossed and hands folded delicately over her knees. It might seem impersonal, maybe even cruel, but Robin understands that the distance is a necessity.
She can not be any closer without wanting to touch. She can not be any closer without risking her control. And for this, for the show she is helping Vivi enact, she needs her control.
Vivi’s eyes flutter shut, hands fisting in the sheets as her back arches from the bed in one beautifully fluid motion. Her skin glistens with exotic oils, the air fragrant with their perfumes, the flames of candles reflecting as light that dances over the swell of her chest.
Arms grow all around her, soothing her, easing her down, cradling her hips. Robin’s many hands reach for her like flowers yearning for Vivi’s sunlight. Fingers stroke through her hair, slide over fanned out thighs, grip the backs of knees and pinch at peaked nipples.
More fingers move between her legs, press into her, slick with her heat and desire. Opening her for their attention, moving in slow and steady rhythms that threaten to undo her. Thumbs circling and pressing at her clitoris, divine pressure, and Vivi moans, high and desperate.
Her legs try to draw together of their own accord, already driven to the edge so many times her body can not cope with the pleasure, her mind confused and dazed by it, but Robin’s hands blossom from thin air to hold her thighs firmly. They prise them apart, hold Vivi open, exposed and on display, her toes curling in the air.
Robin watches, eyes narrowing and a pink tongue slowly running across her bottom lip.
A hand settles over Vivi’s throat, a light pressure there claiming her, before it moves up to palm at the curve of her jaw. It pets at at Vivi’s mouth, thumb pressing inside, and Vivi licks and sucks as if that touch, that taste is the only thing grounding her, keeping her from floating away.
More hands run over Vivi’s chest, fingers slipping through the oil until the digits glisten, sleek and slippery. Tracing ribs and the curve of Vivi’s navel, dipping into the hollow of her hip. Moving lower, past the fingers that still curl and coax, thrusting and making her throb.
Lower, lower, until they find another entrance, and Vivi seems surprised at the throatiness of her own groan. Robin has never touched her there before, knows that nobody ever has, secret and forbidden. But now a single finger presses up into her, the motion made easy by oil and Vivi’s relaxed lethargy.
Vivi gasps and squirms and her heels press down into the bed, legs spreading further apart for it.
The finger slowly pulls out, and then it’s joined by a second, and this time when Vivi shouts, Robin shifts in her chair, eyes dark and hungry.
Vivi sucks at the thumb in her mouth, four fingers opening her in front and now two behind. Completely full, shaking with it, clenching and throbbing and swept away by it, and Robin sighs and enjoys the show.
