The Measure of Her Reach

Alisaie, if asked, would swear up and down that she wasn't nearly the fast-talker her brother was. "He was always the clever one", she'd always remark, with a bit of a self-deprecating smile -- which was sort of a funny thing to say when you seemed to spend nearly your every waking moment either teasing him for his foolishness or fretting over it. And yet somehow, ever since that one awkward night aboard a Confederate pirate ship in the Ruby Sea, Lyse kept finding herself with her hand up Alisaie's skirt practically every time the girl opened her mouth, with only the vaguest notion of how they'd even gotten to that point. Lyse would be the first to say she wasn't the quickest wit, nor the most practiced at flirting -- years of pretending to be someone else had left her little time for such concerns -- but something about Alisaie's banter in particular just made her head spin. Everything about Alisaie made her head spin. They'd exchange a few words, then the elezen girl would raise one perfect snowy eyebrow and quirk her lips just so, and Lyse could practically feel her thoughts fleeing her head to settle somewhere hot and damp between her legs. Alisaie seemed to know it, too. Despite the girl being fresh out of school in some ways, Lyse got the impression that she was far more practiced at this than she was. And honestly, Lyse was glad of the guidance. She really had a lot to learn.

For one thing, if Alisaie wasn't at this very moment perched over her lap, raised up on her knees with her tunic hiked to give her better access and urging "more" and "keep going" directly into her ear, Lyse would probably never have considered it a good idea to try cramming all of her fingers inside anybody.

In her own private fumbling and later with Alisaie's welcome assistance, Lyse had always been satisfied with one or two fingers inside and something to rut against. Alisaie, however, seemed harder to please -- rather like a puzzle box of sorts, except solving it was much more exciting and just thinking about the prize inside made Lyse's heart leap halfway into her throat. She had three of her fingers currently buried to the last knuckle inside Alisaie's cunt, stroking in and out lazily so she could hear her breath catch every time she prodded up against some particularly sensitive spot. Three fingers, by Lyse's estimation, was already a lot. Her hands were hardly delicate, and Alisaie felt so tight around her; she tried to scissor two of her fingers apart and found she could barely move. The action did, however, force a tiny moan up from Alisaie's lips, and she leaned her whole weight against Lyse's shoulder.

"More," she demanded again. Lyse's other hand, which had been busy caressing whatever part of Alisaie caught her fancy (all of her), moved up to the back of her neck, toying with the soft, loose hair there.

"You're insatiable," Lyse breathed, and worked her smallest finger in alongside the other three. Alisaie parted her thighs as her cunt opened up for Lyse's hand, pressing her hips downward as though Lyse were taking far too long with the process. Slowly, Lyse slid her fingers in and out, thumb brushing over Alisaie's clit. Alisaie moaned into her neck, but after a few lazy strokes it turned into a small whine of frustration.

"Keep going." She reached down, between her legs, to lay her hand on Lyse's wrist. "All of it."

Lyse furrowed her brow. "I don't know if that's, um..."

"If word you're looking for is 'feasible', then --" here Alisaie rose with her knees a bit, Lyse's fingers sliding most of the way out of her dripping cunt, " -- well, I want to try."

"You're injured," Lyse said, her gaze drifting to the edge of the bandage that was just visible below the hem of her tunic. True, it was healing, but Alisaie still had to prop herself up on Lyse's shoulder and the chirurgeons had insisted that her activity be kept to a minimum. "I really don't think this qualifies as bed rest." In response, Alisaie reached blindly for the bedside table, not willing to turn her head from its current position buried in the crook of Lyse's neck. Somehow, she came up with a small jar of -- Oh. It was labelled. "Alisaie, why do you have this so close at hand, anyway?" Lyse asked, as Alisaie pressed the jar of unguent into Lyse's hand.

"I told you. Being injured is dreadfully boring. I ran out of things to read days ago." The lid of the jar was easy enough to undo with one hand; the stuff inside was slick and herbal-smelling. Lyse slid her fingers all the way out of Alisaie, stroking idly along the soft and swollen flesh between her legs, teasing.

"If you get hurt sporting around with me, your brother is going to drag me through all seven hells. Maybe invent some new ones. I--" And at this point, Alisaie shut her up in the quickest, most efficient way possible -- by pressing their lips together in a needy kiss.

"I'll tell you to stop if there's a problem, I promise," she murmured. "Just trust me. I trust you."

And that was that -- Lyse was slicking up her hand practically before she realized what she was doing. It was impossible to resist Alisaie sometimes, especially when she wanted Lyse to drive her mad.

Lyse's fingers slipped back inside Alisaie with decadent ease, and she sighed happily as she felt herself being filled again. It still seemed a tight fit, but whatever concoction she was keeping by her bedside to liven up the lonely hours did its job of easing the way in, her four fingers sliding down deep until her last knuckles were flush against her wet folds. Slowly, not entirely sure how to proceed but not wanting to stop, Lyse stroked her fingers in and out, twisting her wrist to work her open bit by bit. Alisaie let out a long, soft groan at this, her head dropping onto Lyse's shoulder as she abandoned herself to this new flood of sensation.

Finally, when the grip on her fingers seemed to slacken slightly, Lyse tucked her thumb in and pressed upwards, her hand sliding just a little bit further in. Alisaie's flesh felt tight around her -- almost painfully tight, every clench of muscle a clear reminder of how wide she was already being stretched. Lyse hesitated, certain they could go no further. Surely Alisaie had limits, did she not?

In response to her hesitation, Alisaie slid her knees apart, letting her hips drop another fraction of an inch until the widest part of Lyse's hand was pressed hard against the outside of her cunt, threatening to finally slip all the way inside.

Gods, Lyse had never been so turned on in her life, and never so unwilling to break the moment to actually touch herself. Instead, she squirmed against the bedspread, rubbing her thighs together, keeping her attention all on Alisaie.

With the both of them pressed so close together, Lyse couldn't see what she was doing clearly -- instead, she dropped her other hand between them, twining with Alisaie's guiding hand, petting between her legs. Even from the outside Lyse could feel her stretching around the intrusion, skin pulled taut so she could feel every twitch and flutter inside and out. Up and down, in and out Lyse worked all five of her fingers, and gradually she felt Alisaie relax more and more. And she could really feel it, too -- even the most subtle response Lyse managed to wring from Alisaie's body seemed magnified a thousand times, like Lyse had opened up some kind of extra chakra. Only, instead of the pulsing beat of aether connecting all life, it was just the two of them, the rhythmic in-out of her breathing, the slight vibration against her cheek when Alisaie let herself make some kind of noise, the tension in her abdomen and thighs and the languid wetness of her open cunt.

"Still all right?" Lyse breathed, slightly awed. This was an impressive physical feat, after all, albeit maybe not a totally traditional one. Alisaie nodded against her shoulder.

"As ever," she said -- trying, perhaps, to sound flippant, but she was obviously overwhelmed and breathless, her voice cracking in a manner that was just ever so slightly undignified.

That was the most beautiful kind of voice Lyse had ever heard.

Carefully, she began to push her hand upwards again. Alisaie's arms tightened around her shoulders, and she hissed between her teeth as she swallowed up a fraction of an inch more -- a fraction of an inch that, when crammed up inside someone like that, must feel like a mile. The widest part of Lyse's hand was beginning to slide into her, at long last; Lyse twisted her wrist just a tiny bit and Alisaie shuddered against her as calloused knuckles brushed against almost painfully soft and sensitive skin. For the first time in her life, Lyse wished she hadn't battered her fists insensible in her training -- days of punching rope-covered boards until she bled had left the surfaces of her knuckles perfect for fighting and rather less than ideal for feeling every curve and fold of a lover's yielding flesh.

Lyse pressed into Alisaie slowly and carefully -- so slowly and carefully, in fact, that when the knot of her knuckles finally slipped inside her aching hole, it came on suddenly, like a bursting dam. Alisaie arched her back, pressing the back of her hand into her mouth to muffle the wanton wail that burst out of her without warning and leaning her whole weight against Lyse like she no longer had the presence of mind to even hold herself upright. Once past the widest part, the rest of Lyse's hand slid in almost to the wrist with obscene ease, and she was fully buried inside Alisaie, as close as she had ever been to anyone. Closer, perhaps, than she ever thought it possible to get to anyone.

Alisaie seemed utterly helpless now -- even the tiniest movement of Lyse's hand seemed to make her buck and moan desperately. A slight curve of her fingers pressed against newly-discovered sensitive spots deep inside Alisaie with knee-weakening force; a twist of the hand pushed into the walls of her cunt in what must have been an almost painful stretch, the utter limit of what she could possibly take. Even just breathing seemed to send a shockwave up Alisaie's spine, leaving her shuddering. Eventually, Lyse stopped trying to move at all -- instead, she let Alisaie twist and writhe all on her own, impaled on her probing hand, every movement of her hips wringing some new pleasure out of her body. If not for the arm buried inside her, Lyse thought, Alisaie might collapse entirely -- instead, she leaned heavily against Lyse for support as she was driven wildly, helplessly, towards a bone-shattering orgasm.

When Alisaie finally came Lyse felt it as strongly as if she were climaxing herself -- Alisaie's hips bucked and her whole body shook with the force of it, and she could feel the inside of Alisaie's cunt spasm and twitch in minute detail, clenching down so hard she thought her fingers might snap out of place, and honestly she would be glad of it. Alisaie let out a long, ragged moan that she couldn't muster the presence of mind to stifle with her hand -- and besides, she was using both of them to cling to Lyse and keep herself upright. Lyse wrapped her free arm around Alisaie's back, gently stroking as she rode out her orgasm. Surely the chirurgeons could hear them now, but who could care?

Gods, if ever anyone on Eorzea was to come without being touched, Lyse thought, it was going to be her, right now. At least if the chirurgeons came to check on them, she could ask them for a change of sheets.

Finally Alisaie caught her breath, but only barely. Lyse twisted her wrist just a tiny bit, and she let out an embarrassing squeak.

"Rhalgr take me, but you're adorable," Lyse breathed in Alisaie's ear, letting her lips drift along the knife-straight edge of it. "Lie back, yeah?"

"Gods, it's so -- so much," Alisaie murmured, her voice sounding as though she had just run from here to the Lochs and back again. "You're going to -- aah--" Alisaie's words failed her as she tried to lean back, with Lyse's guiding hand on the small of her back, and found that it only sent a new, sharp wave of pleasure through her.

Alisaie trembled, her moans melting halfway into whimpers, as Lyse guided her down onto the bed with her hand still buried to the wrist inside her. She was fire-hot and tight inside, almost unbearably hot and tight, but surely the feel of wet, over-sensitive flesh bearing down on her was nothing compared to what Alisaie was feeling right now -- already fucked to completion and given no rest. Alisaie's eyes fluttered closed and by the time she had her head resting on the pillow again, her mouth was hanging open and gasping for breath. She looked utterly lost in what Lyse was doing to her, and Lyse could scarcely remember a time she felt so proud of her own handiwork. No mastery of martial arts really compared to the simple joy of feeling a beautiful girl -- a beautiful, clever, dangerous girl, Alisaie Levailleur, dearer to her than her own heart -- reaching such heights of wild pleasure so intimately.

"Feeling all right?" Lyse asked, gently sliding her free hand up Alisaie's tunic to trace the edge of the bandage there. It felt damp -- with sweat, Lyse hoped -- and she frowned slightly.

"R...right as rain," Alisaie "Nothing I cannot--ngh... gods..." Lyse carefully rubbed Alisaie's stomach to soothe her, feeling the bones of her hip and the rise where the soft, pale curls between her legs began; for one wild moment, Lyse fancied she could feel the weight of her fist beneath Alisaie's skin, and the thought made her squirm.

"I mean your wound," Lyse reminded her. "I could hardly doubt your cunt's prowess now." Frank talk like that was the one sort of wordplay that Lyse found herself good at, and it always brought a flush to Alisaie's cheeks. Carefully, she flexed her fingers inside to feel her stretch against them, and to begin working her hand out of Alisaie's inexorable grip.

"Not more than before," Alisaie gasped. "Ah-- Lyse, Lyse, not so quickly-- I can't--" Lyse ceased her pull.

"You'll need to relax," Lyse murmured, stroking the inside of Alisaie's thighs soothingly before moving to rub the outside of her cunt, stretched taut around her wrist, her fingers trailing over the hard nub of Alisaie's clit. Whatever Alisaie had been about to say was swallowed up in a near-scream at the torment to her over-stimulated flesh, both her hands flying up to muffle the noise and her feet kicking into the bed. It was barely a moment before she was coming again, heels latching around Lyse's back, and Lyse was able to slowly slide her hand back out of her spasming cunt in one long, smooth stroke -- leaving her empty and gasping. Lyse's hand was covered in the mingled slickness of the unguent they'd used to ease the way and Alisaie's own wetness, coating her fingers in thick glistening ropes. Her cunt looked raw and open, flushed vivid red and thoroughly exhausted.

Lyse could wait no longer. Pulling aside her dress, she shifted forward so that her knees were on either side of Alisaie's waist, her hips canted forward to give Alisaie a good view of her own dripping cunt. With one hand she kept her unbelted dress hiked up and out of the way, her breasts falling free of the fabric; with the other, she dove down between her legs, plunging three fingers knuckle-deep into herself with her thumb hard on her clit. Slowly at first, she drew her fingers in and out, showing off how Alisaie's slick coating her hand mingled with her own -- but Lyse was not terribly patient. Within a few strokes she was fucking herself harder and faster, sliding in and out easily with her fingers so thoroughly drenched. The thought of Alisaie's eyes on her, watching her so closely with that coy, insightful gaze of hers, drove Lyse to the brink almost immediately -- she came hard and fast as usual, chest heaving as she collapsed over Alisaie, with just enough presence of mind to land on her elbows to either side of her instead of falling with her whole weight on the injured girl.

For a moment, they simply lay like that, each trying to catch their breath. Lyse rolled to one side, her arm gently laid across Alisaie's chest to feel the gentle rise and fall of her breathing.

"Lyse, my darling, my dear," Alisaie said, after a moment. "If you ever wish to rebuild that noble order known as the Fists of Rhalgr..." she turned her head, giving Lyse a tired, satisfied smile. "I could suggest a recruitment strategy that I suspect will have devotees coming in droves."

Lyse, who was not good with words, had only one response to this -- she rolled her eyes heavenward, and leaned over to kiss Alisaie quiet.