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They didn’t put a name to this. They never tried, and it never felt right to bring it up. Why bother? They were both dead, anyway, so it didn't really matter in the end. When Meenah ended up slipping into Aranea's remembered library with her fins drooping, Aranea would read her stories about pirate battles and Her Imperious Condesencion until she fell asleep. When Aranea made her way into Meenah's moon castle, they either sorted good shit from the trash to sell that Meenah had picked up, or they did... Well... This.
Whatever this arrangement was.
"And I remember that entire library! It's not like there's anything in there that takes too much memory from me, but there were rows and rows, and shelves upon shelves of books in there! How could I have possibly read everything?" Aranea was already complaining as she traipsed into Meenah's respiteblock. She didn't even bother knocking any more. Rude.
"Water you ebben talkin' about?" Meenah grumbled as she poked her head above the rim of her recuperacoon, and slung slime slicked arms over the rim. She'd just woken up, and the sleep hung heavy and thick in her voice, even as she used her hands to push the green goo from her eyes and face so that she could squint at Aranea across the room She should probably put her glasses on.
"Water- I mean what I'm talking about is the lack of any good fictional reading material! There's nothing new! I've finished absolutely everything, and no one from Alternia has any memories of decent fiction! The closest I've come is my- I mean Mindfang's journal. It's an astounding piece of literature, but really, I spent hundreds of sweeps watching her life, do I really, really need to read about it a second time?" she asked in exasperation. She was so bored, and no one would really listen to her. Meenah wasn't even really listening to her right now.
"Meenah!" she snapped, and the tyrian's blank, white eyes fixed on her as she continued patting around for her glasses.
"Huh? What's up, gillfrond, I was listfishin'." Meenah's voice came out as a mumble, and when she finally got her glasses onto her face, it took her a solid minute of blinking to focus. She really wasn't cut out to be an evening troll, even if Aranea had been awake since sunset.
"What's up is that I am bored, and there's nothing new to read!" Aranea's probably one of the most melodramatic trolls in their session, and she way she flopped into Meenah's husk chair, and fair squawked when it rolled a foot back. Suave, Aranea, suave.
"Bored?" Meenah asked, and even with her arms tossed dramatically askew, the azure-blooded troll saw the way that the light glinted off of the golden rings in her eyebrows as they lifted. Though her eyes were blank, dead, and white, there managed to be a wicked glint there, anyway, one that made Aranea clear her throat and put her hands in her lap.
"How bored are ya? Bored enough ta eat a raw oyster?" Aranea cleared her throat again. It hadn't been what she'd been expecting, but Meenah was already slithering over the rim of her coon, slippery and slick and bare as an eel.
"No, not quite. I may be convinced to consume other things, however. Including, but not limited to strawberry jam, grubsauce sandwiches, and your bulge." She managed to not squeak, which was an achievement all on its own. Aranea, while wonderful at letting scores upon scores of words fall out of her mouth, was horrible at dirty talk.
Meenah's laughter could be heard from the ablution chamber, where she presumably got the slime off of her skin and out of her hair. Aranea pushed herself around in a circle in the chair as she waited, and poked at Meenah's gold-plated husk. It was kind of disgusting how much that girl liked her gold, and oh. Oh, wow. Oh, GOSH.
It was kind of surprising to see anything like this sort of fanart of their alternate selves done by anyone but Meulin, and Meenah must have let go of some of her precious boondollars to commission it, but Meenah's background on her husk was a picture of her post-Scratch self, Her Imperious Condesencion with the Marquise Spinneret Mindfang kneeling at her feet, hands bound together, and the Condesce's bulge down her throat, lurid splatters of both of their colors surrounding them.
Honestly, it was kind of hot, and Aranea hadn't been aware that Meulin could draw so well, let alone that she would draw people who weren't on her ships list so well.
There was a fat drop of royal tyrian genetic material clinging to Mindfang's cheek in the picture. Aranea caught herself sticking her tongue between her fangs before she gave herself a good, solid pap to the cheek to stop herself. Calm your shit, Aranea, it's only a drawing on a computer screen. Her hands were neatly tucked between her thighs again, bringing the silky blue material of her favorite dress with them. Actually, that felt really nice against her legs, and she wiggled her hands about, enjoying the sensation against the inside of her thighs.
"A-HEM!" Aranea jumped at the distraction behind her. Her eyes had been fixed on the swollen, leaking tyrian of the Condesce's nook on the screen in front of her, and she hadn't heard Meenah come out of the ablutionblock, sopor free and still as naked as a flapbeast. Aranea's hands fluttered uselessly at her sides, the fabric of her dress still stuck between her thighs.
"Water you doin? 'Cause for the life 'a me, I cod not remember telling you ta sit in my chair and start pettin' your conch." Meenah was gorgeous when she was annoyed, her face scrunched and her arms crossed over her generous rumblespheres. Aranea shrugged at her, and squirmed in her seat. The silk between her thighs shifted and moved, and she sunk down in her seat some more.
"Come on, lift the skirt and spread 'em," the taller troll ordered, and Aranea scrambled to do as she'd been told, squirmed her ass down in the seat so that she could spread her legs apart, and still see, her skirt pulled up to her chest. Even through the plain white cotton underwear that she wore, she could see that her sheath was swollen, and the crotch of her panties was barely stained with slick, clear blue lubrication. Meenah ran a claw up the inside of her thigh, and Aranea squirmed, a whine broke free of her throat, even though she tried to hang onto it. Oh, please, do that again.
Would she? No. Of course she wouldn't. As soon as her claws neared the crevasse where her leg and pelvis met, delicate skin covered by the edge of white cotton, Meenah drew her hand back and delivered a sharp swat to the spread nook of the troll sitting in her chair. It earned a muffled whimper from Aranea as her lower body twisted and clenched, her toes curled inside her shoes, and her bulge swelled fat and heavy in its sheath. Her bulge never did the gradual thing that Meenah's could do, though that might just be because it didn't have barbells studded along the top of it, or maybe because of the thick ridges and delicate, fluttering frills it had. Aranea could already see the first peek of fuschia between her friend's legs, and she licked her lips to moisten them as Meenah walked away.
"Well? Get undressed, alrody," she grumbled as she arranged pillows at the end of her reclined resting platform for Aranea to clutch at. She was only too happy to comply, and she speedily divested herself of all of her clothing, including her glasses. The only thing that she wore was a silver pendant that bore the mark of the Signless/Sufferer.
Without being asked, she made her way over to the platform, to the place that Meenah had prepared for her, cushions on the floor and pillows on the springy surface. There were shark sharp teeth bared at her, leering at her as she offered Meenah a little smile. Really, she should thank her for this one of these times. Nah. It would probably just end up embarrassing both of them. Better to just stand at her place for Meenah's inspection. The heavy whap of a bamboo rod across her chest, falling against her rumblespheres with an impact that drove her breath short, deep and thudding. It brought a harsh blue flush to her skin, and she knew from experience that she'd be left with bruising the next night. It would be faint, after one hit, but it would be there. The way that Meenah looked at her, silent for once and grinning like she had something to sell, combined with the pain that echoed through her chest served well to unsheathe Aranea's bulge.
It emerged from her sheath in one smooth, fluid motion, accompanied by a trickle of genetic material down her thigh, warm against her skin and accompanied by a small groan.
"That all you got, gill?" Meenah asked. There was a mocking tone to her words as she used the gilded piece of bamboo that she held to lift Aranea's bulge, which tried to curl around the rod, slicked back and over itself. She had a small bulge, narrow and slick. Not entirely filling, but dexterous as hell. Meenah never complained about that part, though she was always after her for her size. Aranea was always after Meenah for everything she owned being covered in gold. It was tacky. Not that Meenah ever listened.
"This teeny little string is what you got to work with?" There was a sneer on Meenah's face, her lips curled back to show her teeth. The gesture sent a primal shiver through Aranea, and she bucked her hips, only to get a gilded stick to her bulge. It didn't really hurt, not when the flexible, delicate organ curled away almost as soon as it was struck, but it made Meenah grin. "Don't be a scaredycatfish, bend over."
"I'm not being a scaredycatfish, I'm being dramatic. You wouldn't know drama if it swam up your nook," Aranea sniffed, and settled herself onto the cushions, ass up and knees spread, her cheek resting against her crossed arms. "I'll have you know that I've been ready for this since I opened your husk," she sniffed. Her words were cut off by a sharp blow to her bottom, a muffled sound of bamboo hitting flesh filling the room.
"Blah, blah, blah, yo, you talk one shell of a lot for a beach on her knees." Aranea pushed her face into her crossed arms, and whined as the rod came down against the backs of her thighs again. Reflexively her hips jerked forwards against the platform as she whined. It wasn't to retreat from the pain, it was to grind her bulge against the soft cushions, even as another blow came. There was a stain forming against the cushion, and she was dribbling down the insides of her thighs as she groaned.
Aranea picked her head up, panting hard as she looked over at Meenah, whose bulge was fully out. Three golden barbells glistened along her bulge, which curled and writhed halfway down her thigh. Aranea's breath caught in her throat, and her nook clenched. Idly she wondered if Meenah would actually fuck her tonight.
"Such a good gill," Meenah cooed as she pulled her claws through Aranea's hair, stroking at her silky locks. "Such a good gill, takin' it like a champ. You want more?"
Aranea nodded,still in the process of catching her breath. God she wanted more, wanted the harsh, bruising sting that Meenah delivered so well.
"May I...?" She motioned towards the platform.
"Can you what? Speak up! Come on, I can't hear you!" Aranea cleared her throat, and tried again.
"May I move onto the concupiscent platform, Mistress?" Her cheeks were flushed, the blue spread all the way up to the tips of her ears. "Please?"
"Water you supposed to call me?"
"Meenah, no!" Aranea sat up, and crossed her arms over her chest, a pout fixed firmly on her lips. She wasn't going to subject herself to the indignity, no way, no how. No. It was not going to happen, and there was no way that Meenah could make her. The other troll's hands flew out in a gesture meant to pacify, though Aranea was sure that she was doing a piss poor job of it. That, or her hands were meant to push her back down without actually touching her. "I refuse to call you that!"
"Aight, aight, don't gotta tail me twice," she grumbled, though Aranea had told Meenah more than once that she wouldn't call her what Meenah asked. It was just not right, and it was too weird for her. "Go on, then, on the pleashore platform." With a little shooing motion from the troll standing, Aranea scrambled back up onto the padded platform. Her knees were spread, and her ass was hanging in the air, leaving the folds of her nook gaping open to the air, and her bulge curling impatiently against itself in search of some external stimulation. Trickles of genetic material flowed down the insides of her thighs, especially when she shifted from side to side, and her nook brushed past itself. It was sheer luck that she glanced back at Meenah right as she none too gently pulled her hand down the length of her own bulge. The pads of her fingers caught on the thick ridges, and with a delicacy that Aranea often doubted that she possessed, brushed over the delicate frills towards the base, and the flesh where there was metal sunk into her bulge.
A thick slick of genetic material came away in Meenah's palm, and she slapped the thick, royal liquid against Aranea's ass with a harsh slap, smeared it across both cheeks and against her nook. It was better to not complain about the chill, Aranea knew this by now, though the sensation still earned a full body shudder from her. Another harsh slap was delivered to the exterior of her nook, accompanied by a lurid squelching sound, and that certainly had Aranea mewling at the sting.
A harsh cackle of laughter sounded above her, and Aranea buried her face into her arms.
"Ready?" This was going to be brutal, Aranea knew from experience, but it would certainly not be boring, and would leave her an incoherent mess.
"Ready," she affirmed, and nodded as well. Bring it on, gillfrond.
The blows fell hard and quick, just enough time for the burn to fade between each one before the next came. They rained down on the backs of her thighs, her ass, the spread folds of her nook. Aranea didn't try to muffle herself, harsh cries and whimpers fell from her lips between panted breaths that had her chest heaving. She would be bruised in the evening, though in the end it was dead. She could forget about them if she wanted to, but why the hell would she want to? The marks of a night well spent, marks bravely earned, they would stay in place as long as she wanted them to.
Sometimes she wore the bruises Meenah gave her for weeks, badges that she could take whatever was dished out. Discomfort made walking, sitting, interacting uncomfortable, but more often than not the memory of the pain would leave cerulean dripping down her thighs, and Aranea seeking out a quiet, private place.
The sound of genetic material dripping steadily onto the cushions beneath Aranea was almost loud, and the sound of splatters hitting things on Meenah's backswing was almost more sexy. The room would be splattered in blue by the time they were finished. Her nook clenched hard around nothing when Meenah shifted her grip on her rod, and it came up firmly between her legs once. It made Aranea scream, and muffledly sob as she ground against the pole when it was left there.
She was an absolute mess, bruised and dripping genetic material. Her arms had drool on them where Aranea had been resting her head, and her cheeks were stained with tears, but still, she slid the edges of her nook up and down the gilded pole as her bulge wrapped around it. Maybe having everything covered in gold wasn't so bad after all.
"Woah there, sailor," Meenah snickered. Aranea whined as the rod was taken away from her, gold stained with smears of cerulean and fuschia. Meenah whined, and her bulge held on until the rod was yanked roughly away. From the pain and direct stimulation to the outside of her nook, cool metal against her bulge, she'd been steadily, if slowly, been getting closer and closer to orgasm, but Meenah took it from her. Hell yes, Aranea was going to whine!
"Meenah, please," she whimpered, and picked her head up from her arms. Her entire body ached, she was on edge, balancing on a knife tip. "Please don't--" She was cut off, her voice turning into a sharp cry that tapered into a groan of pleasure as Meenah slapped her nook again.
"Like that? You glubbin' like that?" she grinned, her own thighs streaked with tyrian, up onto her belly where her bulge had been lashing against herself.
"Yes, Ma'am," Aranea gasped. A string of drool connected her lower lip to her arm as her friend dipped her fingers into her nook, mindful of her claws. She worked slowly, edging Aranea closer to orgasm, until again she stopped.
"What do you say?" She grinned with shark sharp teeth as her fingers idly wiped genetic material onto Aranea's back.
"Pleease, Meenah, please let me come!" Aranea whined, her voice caught high in her throat as she rutted against nothing but air. She was desperate.
"Maybe," Meenah shrugged, and began to stroke Aranea's bulge, small as it was. Her thighs were beginning to shake, and tears had formed in her eyes. There was too much pressure, she was going to explode, going to break into a million people.
But again Meenah stopped.
By the fourth time Meenah denied Aranea her orgasm, she was sobbing, her entire body quaking with tears and being held on edge without being allowed to tip over it.
"Please! Oh, god, oh fuuuck, please let me come, please, please, please!" Aranea begged. Her last word trailed off into a wail, and she continued to sob as Meenah let the tip of her bulge curl with her fingertips.
"Nah. You gotta beg reel nice, gill." The pad of her thumb glided up and down the underside of her bulge. It wasn't enough, wasn't nearly enough, but it was driving her mad, and she whined as she rocked her hips back, eager for more stimulation. Just a little would set her off, but it didn't come.
"Please, Meenah. Please." Aranea ground back against Meenah's hands, she was so close, so close, she could taste the pleasure at the back of her throat, a heady groan breaking through a sob. She was so close, so, so close.
And then Meenah's hands were gone, both wrapped around her own bulge as she gave her own groan, and Aranea let out a wail of frustration through her sobs. Five. That was five times that she'd been denied an orgasm, and she felt as though she were going to explode. Five. Five times she'd almost hit orgasm and had been told no. She wasn't even able to make an intelligible sentence, not any more, she just whined at Meenah's groans.
She was in a haze. A haze of sobbing, aching need, through the soft teasing that tipped Aranea closer and closer to the edge without sending her over it again. Six, seven times. Aranea was sobbing, wailing, screaming. This was too much, too much, she couldn't stand more.
"Please please please please," she babbled, Meenah's fingers wrapped back around her bulge. She was incoherent, and shrieked into her arms as the chill of Meenah's bulge started to work its way into her, stretched her wide. "Please, please, Mistress, Fishstress, please please, please!" She was wailing, the sound of her echoing about the room.
A smirk flashed across Meenah's face. She didn't say anything at first, let her bulge thrash inside Aranea's nook.
"Pleeeeease!" she wailed.
"C'mon, then. Come for me," Meenah growled, an her bulge gave a particularly vicious twist in Aranea, and that was it. Aranea came hard, genetic material splattering against the cushions beneath her as she screamed, her nook clenching around Meenah hard.
Eight was the charm, the eighth time she was allowed to come. If she was more with it, she may have appreciated it, but she had no thoughts. All she could do was collapse onto the cushions, into her own mess as Meenah grunted and quickly finished herself off. Cool genetic material splattered against Araneah's back, and the seatroll flopped beside her paramour.
"Now that. That was a cure for boredom," Aranea panted, as Meenah pulled her close, and laughed uproariously.
“Shore was, gillfrond.” Aranea was most of the way to sleep already, safe and tucked into Meenah’s arms. She was beyond satisfied, boneless and enjoying the coolness of Meenah’s skin against hers. The mess beneath and surrounding her didn’t really bother her, though it was going to be a bitch to clean off of their skin. If they hadn’t been dead, and able to will away the grime and tacky dried genetic material. They were both too blissed out to care right now, caught in an afterglow that could satisfy the dead.
Meenah’s fingers trailed up and down Aranea’s arm, along her back. She caressed the curve of her ass, a soft, satisfied and happy smile on her face.
“Heh,” she chuckled, and nosed against Aranea’s hair. “Got you to say it, anyway.”