Breastfeeding

"Come here my little dwarven whore," said the Inquisitor, still using Cullen’s face as her seat. She slowly reached for the clasps of her own leather top. With a soft shuck of material, she pulled the garment off, letting it fall to the floor.

The Inquisitor’s breasts were full and heavy spilling into her hands as she cupped them. She brushed her thumbs over her nipples already hardening. Her nipples were pale and marbled with faint blue veins. It was a stunning contrast to the rest of her body which was dark bluish tan.

"You look hungry,” the Inquisitor purred, her back arching slightly as Cullen’s tongue found a new rhythm beneath her. A soft moan escaped her. “These need attention. Your attention.”

Lace closed the distance. The world narrowed to the swell of flesh before her, to the sound of Cullen’s muffled groans and the wet symphony at the Inquisitor’s apex. She leaned in, her hands coming up to frame the magnificent weight, and took one straining nipple into her mouth. The Inquisitor's scent flooded Lace's system.

The Inquisitor's nipple was hot, and firm. Lace swirled her tongue around the areola, feeling it pucker tighter under her attention. The Inquisitor gasped, a sharp, delighted sound, and her fingers threaded into Lace’s red hair, not guiding, just possessing.

“Yes… just like that,” the Inquisitor sighed. “Use your tongue. Work it.”

Lace obeyed, lavishing the nipple with broad, flat strokes before sucking it deep, drawing a long, low moan from the woman above her. She could feel the Inquisitor’s heartbeat, a frantic flutter under her lips and palms. With her other hand, she kneaded the neglected breast, marveling at its perfect, heavy fullness. At the way the flesh yielded and then resisted her squeezing fingers.

She switched sides, giving the same devoted worship to the other nipple. She bit down gently, and the Inquisitor’s hips jerked, grinding down hard on Cullen’s face. He groaned in response, the vibration making the Inquisitor cry out.

“Fuck,” the Inquisitor breathed. “Both of you… so good.”

Lace lost herself in the taste, the texture. She nuzzled the deep valley between the breasts. Inhaling the salt-sweet skin. She took as much of the soft weight into her mouth as she could, sucking and licking the underside. Leaving a shiny, slick trail in her wake. Her own need was a throbbing, aching pulse between her legs, a distracting rhythm that matched the movements of her tongue.

The Inquisitor’s grip in her hair tightened. “Harder. Suck them like you mean it. Like they’re the only thing keeping you alive.”

A shiver of pure, electric submission ran down Lace’s spine. She redoubled her efforts, sucking with a fervor that bordered on desperation. Her lips and tongue working over every inch of soft, sensitive skin she could reach. She could feel the Inquisitor’s pleasure mounting, could hear it in the hitch of her breath.

“That’s it… oh, Maker… just there… you have such a clever mouth…”

Lace felt powerful she had control over the Inquisitor. She had the control over her pleasure. Pulling these gorgeous, raw sounds from her throat. She sucked one nipple deep, her hand mauling the other, and the Inquisitor’s back arched off of Cullen completely for a second, a silent scream on her lips.

Cullen took the opportunity to gasp for air, his face a wet, debauched mask of devotion. He looked dazed, his eyes locked on the sight of Lace’s mouth working over the Inquisitor’s breast. His own arousal was a blatant, straining tent in his trousers.

The Inquisitor slumped back onto his mouth, but her eyes, dark and heavy-lidded, stayed on Lace. “Don’t you stop,” she commanded, her voice ragged. “Not until I say. You’re my pretty little dwarf, and these are your purpose right now."