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Status Quo - Chapter 12

Written by: Paullell

 Lana listens intently.  She spreads her hand out across the side Daray’s throat, keeping the touch light.  Now she can keep her palm against her skin but caress her fingertips into the base of her hair and rub her thumb along the curve of her cheek.  She means the touch to be comforting but she can’t help but notice that Daray is responding to her touches, little tendrils of red and purple creeping into the yellow of her aura signifying passion and arousal.

 

“I’m second generation, so I was born with this look.  I thought about changing it once, but then my mom got sick and I didn’t want to loose those parts that we shared.  She changes her look for a client.  I never quite understood that.”

 

Reluctantly she draws her hand away.  Looking at the narrow bunks and the fleshly swept floor she makes a quick choice.  She sits down on the floor and crosses her legs. “As for how to be comfortable with yourself.  Have you tried meditation?”

 

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Daray shudders as Lana's fingers play in the short hairs at the base of her skull, pressing herself against the hand splayed out against her neck. "I guess it doesn't make sense to me either, to become what someone else wants in order to please them. But then, I find myself trying to anticipate your wants and desires." 

 

She blushes furiously at her open admission, then finds herself almost falling over in a subconscious effort to keep in contact with Lana's hand as she pulls it away. She quickly drops to the floor, crossing her legs to mimic Lana's actions and shaking her head. "No, never. Running has always been my meditation. It helps me tune out the world around me and find my center."

 

Her cobalt eyes lock with Lana's insightful gaze as she rests her hands in her lap. "I'm willing to learn though."

 

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Lana grins at Daray as she mimics her position. She decides not to draw attention to Daray’s surprising admission other than giving her genuine a smile of response.  “Good then you have the basic concept. What I think you should try, is just closing your eyes and getting your body perfectly comfortable.  Once you are in a position that feels right, your body’s input should feel like a secondary sensation, something that requires no effort to maintain on your part because it is completely comfortable.”  

 

Lana shifts until she finds a posture that is right for her, her legs crossed and her back straight, she leans back on her arms and lets her head fall back with her eyes closed.  “Once you are comfortable just let your mind wander.  Have a daydream, re-live a memory.  What ever your mind thinks of is OK.  You already have a concept of inner peace, your mind attains it when you’re running or acting on instinct so that’s good.  Now what we need is for you to accept yourself.  To keep that peace when physically, things are slow, but mentally and emotionally you are being affected.  I’m serious.  Whatever your mind thinks of, don’t reject the image.  Don’t push it away.  Accept it.  Tell yourself it’s OK that you had this thought.  If you want you can share it with me, or you can keep it private.  I won’t mind.”

 

Lana’s voice is soft and soothing.  About half way through her speech she peeks open her eyes and tries to read Daray’s aura; wanting to determine if this tactic is helping her.

 

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Listening to Lana’s soothing words, Daray begins to relax almost immediately. Her breathing softens and deepens as she closes her eyes and tries to let her mind wander. At first she only comes up with recurring images of the various high points of their day so far, running, hiding, dodging explosions and negotiating with bastards. But after a few minutes she seems to settle down a little and a memory of her parkouring through the streets of Venus Station floods her mind.

 

She smiles at the sensation of vaulting over obstacles and winding her way through the streets, pressing her body to move faster and faster, to leave conscious thought behind and force the mind and body to act as one. When parkouring there is only one tenant, to act, to overcome the obstacle ahead in the simplest possible way. That is where she is comfortable, when she is in a state of heightened awareness and simply reacting to the environment, the wind in her face and no one able to stop her or get in her way.

 

In her daydream she runs and runs and runs, hurtling over walls, swinging from rails, bouncing off pillars with her feet and scaling buildings, until her mind is a blank whirlwind of nothing but stimuli and action, no thought. She runs until her apparent goal comes into view, the top of a building that she is scaling, leaping back and forth between the structure and its neighbors, pressing her fingers into cracks and finding purchase on the barest of protrusions. She moves so fast that there isn’t even time for her claws to sink into the surfaces before she is airborne again. It’s difficult to tell in this state how high the building is, but it seems to go on forever, the top not really getting any closer when she glances upward, until suddenly she is there. 

 

She flips nimbly over the edge of the roof, lands on her feet and strides confidently toward her objective, mind still reeling in blissful emptiness. Still not processing, simply reacting. She steps up to the shadowed form of the woman on the roof, her soft, supple skin is hot enough that Daray can feel it even across the space between them, but she doesn’t stop, she isn’t afraid of the heat. She wants it, yearns for it, even needs it.

 

She presses her body fully against the silhouetted woman’s form, their breasts squishing together as their bodies nearly merge. She wraps her arms around the woman, pulling her tightly to her own body and pressing her lips against those of the unknown figure and pressing her tongue into her mouth. 

 

Still pushing forward, she quickly, but gently moves the woman off her feet, kneeling down, and driving them both to the ground, where she lays her svelt form on top of the woman and moves her hands from her back, to her shoulders, pressing them to the ground as she hungrily kisses her.

 

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Lana watches the shifts and eddies of color in Daray’s aura as she calms down.  What ever she is doing is something that she finds enjoyable although if Lana had to guess, she would put money on the bet that it was an energetic activity.  

 

“Good, that’s very good.”  Lana notices a deeper hue filter to the surface, sparks of purple and fuchsia.  She is unsurprised that the objective eventually turned passionate.  Daray herself seems to be a passionate person, just bottled so tight that she is in danger of exploding. She sees Daray sway and moves forward, concerned that something may be wrong.  Daray must have sensed her approach because once she is kneeling in front of her Daray pitches forward, grabbing her and knocking her to the ground.  She only has a breath before the other woman’s lips are on her.  She hadn’t been kidding about the fast reflexes.

 

Lana’s initial reaction is to try to gentle the kiss, instinctively knowing that Daray is acting subconsciously.  Lana doesn’t want to have another kiss interrupted because Daray ‘comes to her senses’ in the middle of it.  But her lips are so warm that Lana find herself yielding to the press of them. Her lips open in welcome and are rewarded with the caress of Daray’s newly re-grown tongue.  She starts to raise her hands, wanting to touch and stroke but Daray’s arms are on her shoulders pushing her to the ground.  Lana relaxes, assuming this is what Daray needs.  She lays back and simply accepts and enjoys Daray’s attentions.  Lana’s body presses itself into Daray, moaning sensually and in obvious enjoyment of everything that Daray is doing with her.

 

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As she presses herself full against the woman in her mind, she feels the warmth of their contact suffusing her body. Her breasts are squashed against those of her imagined lover, and their tongues spar actively, sending little jolts of electricity racing up and down her spine and tingling the hairs at the base of her skull.

 

She can feel the hot breath and moist tongue of the other woman and hear both of their quiet, gentle moans as if it was really happening. When the sweet scent of Lana came to her, the imagined woman in her daydream instantly came into focus as the blue-haired, fox-eared woman, which only served to fuel the fires stoking within her.

 

But something wasn’t quite right, the sensations seemed a little too real, too focused. The taste of Lana’s mouth and tongue were delectable, her scent intoxicating, and her body warm and inviting. But it was too real to be imagined. 

 

She opened her eyes to find that the imagined image hadn’t changed much. There was Lana on the floor beneath her, their bodies pressed together and their mouths joined in a passionate exchange. For a heartbeat, she considers panicking, pulling back, running for cover. But something in her quickly overrides the impulse and instead, she moves her hands off Lana’s shoulders, trying to make her more comfortable, placing her forearms on the floor at either side of Lana’s head and twining her fingers into the other woman’s hair. 

 

Briefly she pulls herself free of the kiss, grinning roguishly down at Lana and says, “I think I like this meditation thing.”

 

Then she tries to dive back in for more, forcing her inhibitions and discomfort to the side for the moment.

 

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When Daray pulls back Lana opens her eyes and grins to see that Daray is now a willing participant in the exchange. Breathless but enthusiastic she replies.  “Not exactly what I had intended, but I’ll take it!”

 

Now that Daray is no longer pinning her shoulders Lana takes that as a sign that it is alright to push further.  As their tongues spar Lana begins trace her hands along Daray’s arms, trailing them up and then across her shoulders.  She slips her right hand up her neck until she can thread her fingers into Daray’s hair at the base of her skull.  The other hand lowers, rubbing across her back until she reaches Daray’s hip.  She then diverts that hand and brings it back up, tracing her side and ribcage until she can stroke her fingers across the curve of Daray’s breast.

 

The feel of the skinsuit beneath her fingers is different.  Not upsetting but a noticeable difference none the less.  Her own body is hot and aching just from the heat of their kiss.  Lana’s yellow eyes almost glow with the intensity of the sensations she is feeling. She will wait until Daray draws back again and then use her grip on the other woman’s hair to tilt her head to the side, Giving Lana access to her neck where it meets her shoulder.  Pressing herself upward she latches her teeth into that section of neck, at first just a gentle squeeze of teeth but if Daray responds favorably she will bite harder until she finds that sweet point where pleasure is at its most intense before it begins to descend back into pain.

 

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Daray’s hunger for Lana only seems to grow as they press their lips back together again. She can’t believe she is doing this, but at the same time, it feels amazing, and seems to be filling some void that, until that morning, she hadn’t really even known had been there. “I can’t believe we’re doing this,” she breathes, then moans as the hand playing with the hair at the base of her skull firm up a bit and turn her head slightly. She prepares to fight the action, to resume the heated kiss, but when Lana’s teeth find her neck, she finds herself moaning again, in surprise, and pleasure.

 

Lana’s hands brushing up and down her back, and then across the cure of her breasts is electric, sending repeated waves of tingles up and down her entire body. The sensation of Lana’s bite begins to boarder on pain, but her unique biology quickly dulls the sensation and she continues to enjoy it.

 

The taste of the skinsuit is mostly that of soft, supple flesh, with a coppery, metallic undertone and a slight sensation of some sort of mild energy field.

 

“Oh god…” She pants, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

 

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Lana grins at the reaction Daray gives her to the feeling of teeth on her shoulder.  The suit is a unique taste and sensation against her teeth, but not completely unpleasant.  Lana relaxes her bite and then runs her tongue across the same spot that her teeth had abraded, licking away the teeth marks that disappear under her tongue due to the talents of the suit..  She then licks her way up Daray's neck until she can catch her earlobe in her teeth, ever so gently tugging on it.

 

Her knee bends, pushing is way between Dray's legs so that her thigh can press against the apex of her with gentle pressure.  The hand in Daray's hair loosens, giving her free reign again while her other hand cups Daray's breast, her thumb stroking closer and closer to her nipple.

 

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Lana's ministrations very obviously get Daray into a state of pure, basal reactivity. Her breathing continues to come in ragged gasps as Lana's tongue works its magic against her shoulder, neck, and jaw. She moans loudly when the teeth begin nibbling at her earlobe. At this point, she seems to completely loose the ability to participate in events, instead just working at keeping herself propped up over Lana's prone form and accept her actions. 

 

Her legs yield to Lana's pressing knee, and she flinches slightly as the limb comes into contact with her sex, but she quickly relaxes into the touch, and before long is pressing herself against Lana's leg and even gyrating her hips ever so slightly. When the hand cups her breast and the probing fingers grow ever closer to her turgid nipple, her whole body begins to shudder and she seems to almost go into minor convulsions.

 

The shudders last for several long moments, during which time she grinds her sex against Lana's leg and arches her back before her whole body goes tense and she screams to the room. "I can't... I don't... I'm not... Oh... Oh... Oh, my god!!"

 

The tension in her body locks up all of her joints and muscles, the claws in her fingertips pop out of their concealed sheaths, barely missing Lana's scalp and tangling into her hair, and the slightly discolored patches on her one visible forearm begin to glow slightly, but before anything horrible can happen, she collapses in a heap, panting and groaning, hips still gyrating slightly and mind consumed with the rapture of the experience.

 

By this point, her limp, half-conscious form presents no obstacle for Lana to extricate herself out from under, but Daray doesn't appear to be ready, or even able, to move under her own power.

 

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Lana grins like a cat with a bowl of cream, her own needs secondary to how good it feels to have been able to bring Daray some much needed release.  She wiggles and moves until she has scooted Daray down enough that she can cuddle her head against her breasts, content for now to simply warp her arms around Daray and run her fingers through her hair.  

 

“Quello era bello. Grazie, Daray for letting me share that with you.” 

 

Lana stares up at the ceiling and tries to relax her self.  Muscle by muscle forcing the tension out of her body and ignoring the hard press of the ship’s metal underneath her.  She finds the silken strands under her fingers incredibly sooting and does her best not to pull on any tangles in Daray's hair while she waits for her to become more coherent.

 

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Daray basks in the afterglow of the experience for several minutes before she registers that she has been moved, and that Lana has spoken to her. She idly traces her fingers up and down Lana’s body, from her navel to her throat, between her breasts and back again, still somewhat nervous about touching her anywhere private despite the experience they had just shared. Her cheek rests comfortably on Lana’s chest and her heightened hearing picks up every single beat of Lana’s heart, and the filling and emptying of her lungs.

 

She focuses on her body, suddenly aware of the warm, intimate contact that they are haring, nearly from head to toe. She has her entire body pressed up against Lana’s side, with her leg drapes over the other woman and is positively reveling in the contact, her body alive with warmth and sensation.

 

Slowly, she realizes that Lana is working at calming and relaxing herself as she listens to her heartbeat and respiration slowing, and a pang of guilt runs through her despite the blissful exhaustion she feels after what just happened. She cants her head back, still keeping it as much in contact with Lana’s chest as possible but still trying to get a look into her friend’s eyes. “I had no idea…” she breathes, making every effort not to disturb the quieting energy in the room. “I’ve never done anything like that before.”

 

“You didn’t get much out of that though, what can I do?” Her tone is sheepish and tentative, but in ernest.

 

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Lana smiles at Daray’s comments.  “I had a feeling you might not have.  I’m fine.  I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable or that you have to return the favor.  But, if you want to… go ahead touch me anywhere you want to.  Anything you’ve ever heard of or seen or read about that you found arousing, chances are that I will too.”  Lana shifts a little bit because her tail is stuck between her legs and she frees it to curl around the side that Daray is not snuggling against.  She also wiggles enough to kick off her boots in an effort to get more comfortable.  

 

Daray’s fingers training along her torso feel wonderful.  Lana aches for Daray to either undo her shirt so that her fingers can touch skin directly or to grow bolder and touch one of the breasts that she is so diligently avoiding.  

 

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Daray’s had stops on Lana’s stomach and she flattens it out, pressing her palm against her abdomen and fanning her gingers out to cover as much of her as she can. “I wonder… what it would have been like… as a guy? I have no idea, what feels good…” 

 

She lifts her head from Lana’s chest and props it up on her own hand, looking down at Lana with  curios, but content eyes. She tentatively slides her hand up Lana’s stomach, her fingers brushing over the edge of her breast initially before she very slowly, and with almost imperceptible pressure, slides it up the soft flesh to its apex.

 

Her level of control is astounding, especially considering how exhausted she was mere moments ago. Her hand is as steady as a surgeon’s as she only barely touches Lana’s nipple with the palm of her hand and the sides of her breast with her fingertips. It isn’t obvious if she is trying to be torturous, or simply doesn’t know if she should use more pressure or a different approach. Her eyes a questioning and flicker back and forth between Lana’s eyes and her breast.

 

“So… What feels good Lana? Can you teach me? Will you?”


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