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She rolls her tongue across her breast and immediately the nub swells, and Amélie's making a face Ashe can't describe, because it's not one she's seen before. Not for this long. She does it again and the spider's teeth curl over her lower lip, and it's something she always does, Ashe, but on her it's gorgeous. Right now she's her private model and Ashe can rouse any kind of response if she tries hard enough, and she exhales cold air against her and Amélie shudders out one of her own.
"Ashe," she says, and she sounds impatient, needy. Ashe just grins up at her from her chest, doing as she wills, what she wants.
"What?" Ashe asks sweetly as she kisses her properly, thoroughly: but there's no viability in her innocent ignorance, not as she continues her assault with her thumb and forefinger now her mouth's otherwise occupied. "Not into the foreplay?"
Amélie's weighing her words, trying not to moan and indirectly admit that she is. "You are capable of more," she manages. "You're talented enough."
It's a compliment, and a dare, and Ashe just shakes her head fondly as she returns to her chest, a hand trailing down her body until she finds what she's looking for, slipping a solitary finger inside.
Amélie won't be satisfied with only one, she knows, and almost instantly she makes it known. "I believe that I said more."
From her angle she looks up. Amélie's watching her, expectant, vivid, and Ashe holds her gaze as she teases a second against her, teeth cutting against her skin, and slowly Ashe begins to finger her with both. And it's as she's settling against her rhythm and she's not yet fully gone, not yet fully distracted enough to close her eyes and look away that she adds a third, and Amélie hisses as they curve into her, bucking up against Ashe's palm.
"Mm, that's my girl," Ashe praises, and if she's wanting of more she's going to get it. She doesn't want her thinking of anything else. She redoubles her efforts and fingers her faster, lazily punctuating against her breast, and Amélie's crippling her shoulders with the intensity in which she's holding her down but Ashe doesn't care, because every second she's getting closer and she wants to take her there.
"Ashe," Amélie says again. "Here… let me— let me do something for you..."
She doesn't elaborate further, can't because she's given in and moaning, but Ashe understands what she's offering: and she's gleeful, because her girlfriend eating her out as she makes her come? That she wants to? To her lust addled mind it's the most scintillating concept she's ever had suggested, and even her everyday one would be hard pressed for better. She might not get to see her spider's expression when she breaks but it'll be worth it, doubly so at the moment when she can't follow through with fingering her any longer.
She doesn't have to be told twice, and Ashe relinquishes her claim on Amélie's chest and repositions herself and she sighs, contentedly.
"You are so good at that, sugar," she keens, and that only seems to spur Amélie further. But she's got a job to be doing if she wants to make certain that Amélie will get there first, and so she dips her fingers deeper, in and out, slick and fast as her thumb caters to her nerves.
Amélie stumbles against her own insides, and she smirks.
"Yeah? There? You want me here? Oh, you do," Ashe sniggers as her own breath hitches, and she's really got to do better at keeping herself together else she'll lose track of what she's doing and not make Amélie come at all, and she needs to. Must. "What do you suppose would happen if I snuck something else in? Maybe we should find out..."
She doesn't wait, her little finger cresting enough room for her tongue to lick and Amélie stops completely, arching up from the mattress.
"Fuck—"
That's the idea. She keeps going and Amélie jerks beneath her, along for the ride and wherever she takes her.
She needs it to be more. She desperately wants to see her, wants to feel her, and Ashe moves again, and it's not much of a lament that she's not going down on her anymore because Amélie's entirely pliable as she hooks a leg up over her shoulder. She slides up against her, rubbing her clit with one hand as she rolls, grinds her hips to meet hers, and Amélie reciprocates.
Amélie is there already, or practically, but Ashe can feel her own heat mounting and now there's a possibility she wants it. She wants to come at the same time as her, wants her to—
She feels errant fingers against her lips because Amélie's not so gone as to not wordlessly realise what she's now seeking and Ashe kisses against them, entirely lost in her.
Please. Please let it be together.
She's on fire and they're breaking and she's undone and all that has ever existed is her.
She's ragged. Breathing hard as she stares at nothing but imaginary constellations, taking them in. And then Ashe looks down and they're put to shame, Amélie peeking out from beneath where an arm eventually fell to rest across her forehead and her hair's a mess and there should be a flush across her face above her crooked teeth and there is as her ribs inhale, exhale.
Ashe leans forward to kiss her. How she'd ravish her if she hadn't already. It's that she has that her lover's like this, and it's the opposite of humbling.
For a while she takes her in. Kissing her, touching, not wanting to ruin or end it by speaking.
There's an idea though. A thought. Outside thoughts don't have any place here but this one Ashe entertains, because as good and as much as it was she already wants to chase it back down.
Her kisses grow smaller, and next only her fingers linger against her chin. "Wanna go again?"
"Mm," Amélie motions, which could mean any number of things; but Ashe chooses to take it as a yes when her spider decides that's enough time without her lips against hers, fingers dancing across her face as she initiates a kiss of her own.
"Strap?" Ashe suggests, between angles.
Amélie rolls her eyes. "Typical," she says. It's a mixed up fondness, because it's predictable, but Ashe knows without a doubt she's never really against it. As it goes. "Although I would very much like to be all the way inside you…"
She's giving it such careful, intricate thought, and Ashe shivers.
"Promise?"
She's insufferable, is the look Amélie's giving her now. She doesn't care. "Such zealousness means you might have to beg," Amélie warns, her thumb pulling against the corner of her mouth. "Or persuade me."
Well, she could. Turns out that's a thing she's into. But the persuasion is so workable, and Ashe knows how to be charming. She takes the hand resting against her mouth with her own, lowering it, and uses the claimed freedom to kiss gently against Amélie's shoulder.
"How would you like me to persuade you?"
She doesn't know how many things Amélie considers, as in the end she just unfolds her, laying her down on the mattress. She know she's meant to stay, and she does, and it's only when Amélie pries apart her legs, running her hands along her thighs that she speaks again.
"For now I just want to hear you," Amélie says, teasing the very tip as she enters, and already Ashe's breathing is unsteady as she feels her do it, curling a finger against her lower lip because of how deliberate Amélie's being, how slow, how fucking good it is to have her inside her.
And then she picks up speed.
Ashe gasps, squirms, laughs. Falling apart. "Oh, god, you're going to ruin me—"
Amélie chuckles, dangerously. "Is that a truth or a request?"
Ashe sharply inhales. She can't do anything else as Amélie lifts her hips up for better purchase, not waiting for an answer, making it so. Wanting her. "Both," she says eagerly. "Just keep fucking me. Keep— nngh…"
She's not letting up. Damn she's glad for it and each time her expression shifts, that any sound escapes her, Amélie wants more and makes it happen and this angle is so—
"You are beautiful," Amélie says. Right now she believes it and Ashe barely registers a smile, her petering laugh turned moan, caught in the look Amélie's giving her that's surrounded by a perfect white out halo and it's one that'll never leave her until the day she dies.
Faster. Deeper. Exactly how she likes it. Amélie's hands work their way up her back and to her shoulders, pulling her entirely to her, and Ashe blindly snakes an arm against her head and shoulders to tangle in her hair, the other lost somewhere down her spine.
She's fucking her, yes. But she's loving her. Making it. She's so safe, so wanted: so much so that she feels it building and everything else is secondary to her girlfriend's touch, her own desire.
"I love you," Ashe says, hoarse, as Amélie kisses her neck. It's so imperative that she knows, right now. That it's true. "I love, I love you so much, I—"
Can she feel her heart? Does she know that it's hers?
Her tongue twines with her own and Ashe forgets how to speak and she thinks that maybe she's weeping bliss as Amélie wipes a thumb below her eye but it's irrelevant. She can have them all. All of her. Her sudden sentimentality doesn't seem to bother her, only endeared by it, entirely persuaded.
"Cherie," Amélie says evenly, even if there's a distinct husk to it, each stroke inside her felt, hauntingly slow. "You can come."
She wasn't holding it. Not really. If anything she couldn't find it, but Ashe gasps out a final cascading whimper at Amélie's request, wrapping her arms firmly against her back, quivering, head buried in her shoulder: and Amélie exhales and it echoes through her chest, their breathing one.
"Can I see?"
Ashe nods against her, shaky as she leans away. So weak, and that she's allowing her to see… it's a place no one else is ever, ever permissed, and Amélie's expression is gentle as she lightly kisses her lips, committing her to memory.
"Je t'aime aussi," she says quietly, moving to her cheek to kiss her there. Sincere. "And making love to you."
"Yeah," Ashe manages, smile lopsided as she's breathless still, but she drapes herself against her, complete. "Me too."