When and Where

“Come oooon. We can’t put all this effort into getting ready only to be late!”

March’s nagging only tickled Stelle. The time she spent straightening her three-piece suit and double checking her hair was a drop in the bucket against preparing her darling snowflake; and she would not have it any other way. The pastel dress March wore was so soft in its coloration it seemed to imply it was merely a white gown catching some elusive pink and blue light sources. Moving around set the article flowing with a wintry delicacy that belied the woman’s fiery spirit.

“It’s the Dreamscape. I don’t think travel will take long once we’re in it.” Stelle’s placation was token. She knew perfectly well that March was just finding an outlet for her nerves. Understandable as it was to be frazzled right before a formal event, it remained endlessly endearing that this galactic-scale heroine would allow etiquette and expectations to rattle her. Stelle settled on sharing a thought if only to get March’s mind off things.

“Changing clothes in the real world does affect our dress in the Dreamscape, right?”

“What kind of a silly question is…” March trailed off as the words registered. “Y-Yeah, they’d have to. Surely… How else would…”

Stelle could see that her question was having unintended consequences. If the Dreamscape did not imitate reality, then it could very well mean that all the tidying up was for nothing.

“Hey! Hey! I’m kidding!” Stelle chuckled as she wrapped March’s shoulders in a side hug. “Of course the Dreamscape will show all the work you put in to being even more captivating than usual. And besides, it not like there’s any doubt about who’s the cutest whenever you’re around.”

“Yeah… Yeah. You’re right.” March rallied her confidence. “On both matters too.”

There was the gleaming snowflake Stelle knew. “Are you ready?”

“Sure am!”

Like a gentlewoman, Stelle helped March into the basin entrance to the Dreamscape before returning to her own room and entering for herself.

It was a simple matter for the duo to find Dan Heng, Himeko, and Welt before boarding the Radiant Feldspar as one party. Their outfits did, in fact, reflect their respective external apparel, and there were many compliments to be exchanged amongst the crew of the Astral Express.

They were gathered there to host an acceptance ceremony for the gifting of the ship to them. It seemed like another step in the endless game of thanking one’s collaborators, but Himeko had insisted, and that meant it was worth their while.

Glamour aside, there was not much in this event to hold the interest of March and Stelle. It was all diplomacy and networking, which while important, could turn dry rather quickly. Familiar faces did bring life to the event. The duo was overjoyed to share leisurely moments with the likes of Misha, Acheron, Robin, and even Aventurine. However, there were only so many islands of companionship in this sea of strangers.

Stelle was ready to retreat into the dumps in her mind to pass the time when she noticed signs that March was slipping into a similar state of disengagement. It was just too easy while Himeko and Welt selflessly served as their bulwark against the drivel foisted on them by some IPC wonk eager to chum up to the Nameless. Happy to throw a curve ball at her girlfriend, the taller woman got a rotten little idea in her head and waited for the opportune moment to execute it.

Leaning over, she planted a kiss behind March’s jaw; just too long, too personal, and too wet to be appropriate for the setting. When it was done, she withdrew to her resting posture like nothing had happened.

“What was that?” March hissed at her.

“What? Oh, you mean the kiss? You looked kissable,” she shrugged.

March scanned their surroundings. There had been little effort put into hiding the display of affection, but even so, it had gone unnoticed. “That may be true, but that was not the kind of kiss to give me right now!”

“No?” an aloof Stelle asked. “When should I give you that sort of kiss?”

“Not when-!” March cut herself short to double check that she was not disrupting Himeko and Welt’s thrilling conversation. She was still in the clear. “Not when we’re in polite company and have impressions to make!”

“Okay,” Stelle nodded slowly like she was beginning to comprehend. “That doesn’t answer my question, though. When should I give you that sort of kiss?” She limited her volume, but the low tremor of her voice had March looking over her shoulder to confirm that they remained undiscovered.

“Stelle…” she bemoaned. She saw what the other woman was doing plain as day.

“When, March?” The amusement was kept out of her voice, but not out of her eyes. “Is there a time and a place that I can kiss you like that?”

“You know there is…” Now it was March who could not keep the corners of her lips from twitching. She turned her head in a vain attempt to hide the color in her face from her partner.

“When?”

The word was so close and so low that March felt compelled to jump and to shiver at the same time, and so did neither. She rolled her eyes and a side of her mouth turned up. She pulled close to Stelle to pass her own words to this big tease’s ear. “At a time when it’s just the two of us… Nobody else around. When you’ve got me all to yourself. When you’re trembling in your boots because you haven’t held me in so long. When you think you know what I taste like, but you can’t. quite. remember.” March punctuated these words with taps on Stelle’s collarbone. "When you've just had to settle for ogling me, because you were too well behaved to get your hands on me like you wanted. When you’re out of breath because you forgot that air is so much thinner when it doesn’t smell like me. When your tongue is jumping out of your own mouth because it has better places to be…” March happened to flip her hair in that moment, giving Stelle a good, clear sight of her neck. “When can you kiss me like that? Hm, I’d say…” her eyes locked onto Stelle’s with a hunger. “…tonight.”

Stelle bear wrestled her boisterous laugh into a polite chuckle. “Thanks, March. That clears things up.” She stole a brief kiss from March’s cheek; perfectly civil.

The pink-haired woman puffed a cheek, knit her brows, and gave her the evilest of eyes.

---

March was undoing her jewelry at her hotel room’s vanity when the knock sounded at her door. She had every expectation that Stelle would be rearing to see her; the flirting had not ended with Stelle’s query on suitable displays of affection. Yet, she was still surprised to the point of loosing a shriek when her girlfriend surged inside and hoisted her up in a spinning embrace.

“So much for being well-behaved…” she giggled, ‘hitting’ Stelle on the shoulder blades with her fist. “Aren’t you supposed to wait to be invited into a lady’s room before entering?”

“Pffft, what am I, a vampire?” She stopped spinning to plant a firm kiss on March’s clothed belly, then shut the door, all while holding the adorable woman aloft. “You said it yourself: I can only go so long without loving you.”

“Ever the flatterer…”

“So…” Stelle finally brought March back down – not all the way, not even to eye level, but low enough that she could admire those blue-and-pink orbs. “How does this time and place suit you?”

March was supported by her own legs wrapped on Stelle’s waist, as well as those powerful hands holding her where leg turned into backside. As the grey-haired woman delivered her question, she stroked gently at her. This was not the lustful, stimulating stroke that Stelle often used. No, March was very, very, very familiar with that kind of touch. She knew this instead to be reaffirmation of presence and admiration.

“Suits me just fine.” Cradling Stelle’s face in both hands, March crunched down to capture her lips. This kiss was everything they had both wanted for most of the evening: hot, wet, full of tongue, enduring, breathtaking.

Pulling apart to catch their breath was not all bad, as it granted each a moment to see the shameless want written over the other’s face. March loved that she could have the unshakable Stelle panting like a dog in a matter of minutes. Stelle loved that the picture-perfect March could shed all of her modesty for her promise of pleasure.

Stelle dove in for March’s neck this time, alternating between smooching and suckling that sensitive throat. Her lips would caress the flesh before pulling that sweet patch inside, sometimes even wetting it with a few passes from her tongue. When the skin in her mouth buzzed with the moan or sigh trembling through March’s throat, that was her cue to gradually return her lover’s flesh and move on to a new spot.

This proceeded until March could imagine a veritable choker of bruises covering everything between her jaw and her collarbones. Dedicated as Stelle was to her task, she was not so far gone as to miss the action in March’s hips. She made her way to the hotel bed and eased the woman down with a gentleness befitting a snowflake. With her legs still hooked around Stelle’s hips, March looked up at her longingly as the grey-haired woman shed her suit coat.

“You looked very dashing tonight.” March had already said this

Stelle had been smiling, but it widened at the compliment. “Thanks. I know I don’t dress up too often, but there’s no better occasion than an evening with you.”

A bit more blood surfaced in March’s face. Stelle drew close. One hand supported herself above March’s shoulder, and the other took its place cradling her neck from behind. March beat her to the punch in crossing the final centimeters to lock their lips together.

March’s mouth was one of Stelle’s favorite flavors, if not the favorite. Admittedly, all of her favorite flavors were some part of March or another, but only when their lips danced upon one another, when their tongues held the loveliest of sparring matches, when the quiet-but-profound vocalizations came through with as much taste as her saliva, when their breath was traded back and forth until it was as intermingled as their souls; only then did Stelle get to savor a treat that went so far beyond what taste buds could appreciate.

To their shared chagrin, making out was not an act that their bodies could sustain indefinitely. They parted when one or the other was at risk of passing out. When the burn in their lungs was once again less than that in their hearts, back together they went; kissing with renewed fervor and unwaning enjoyment.

March could offer no answer to when exactly Stelle had undone her dress and brassiere, but she did feel a keen sense of gratitude when the articles were pulled out of the way; leaving fewer obstacles between herself and the woman she needed pressed against her.

Stelle had indeed been industrious amidst their breath-swapping, as her own boxer briefs were the only clothing to remain along with March’s own briefs. The relief of undress was twofold as it liberated their steaming forms from their tyrannical threads, and granted unity to their longing skin.

Stelle gave March what she wanted when she set her weight upon the shorter woman, leaving the lower end of her defined abdominals to be ground upon by the soaked-through groin of her snowflake's underwear.

“I love you, March.”

“I know.”

Both of them chuckled at the apparent arrogance of the acknowledgment, but the real meaning was well known to both.

Before they could fall back into the rhythm of exploring one another’s mouths that they so enjoyed, Stelle kissed her way down her partner. In a show of mercy, she only traversed March’s throat and its ripening bruises, rather than adding to their number. Stelle did not move to her breasts; not directly, nor timely. There was so, so much else to indulge in before attending to the typical highlights. Her shoulders, her torso, her arms, her midriff, her waist, her hands, her legs – it was a world of immaculate destinations to explore before even mentioning the zones most likely to set March off, and Stelle would visit it all. Every scar, every follicle, every blemish, every stretch mark, every mole, every fleshy nook and cranny – none of it was beyond Stelle’s adoration.

Tangled and excited as they were, perspiration flowed as freely as their liquid desires. The air was alight with the irresistible and tantalizingly unique aroma of March’s musk. Each heady droplet that rolled down the woman’s curves and set her skin gleaming was a must-have prize for Stelle. The number-one connoisseur of March 7th was delighted by the buffet in her tastes, smells, sounds, and touch.

“Stelle…”

The woman in question figured the utterance of her name was a passive thanks for her treatment, and so carried on with her tongue bath.

“Stelle…”

Perhaps this was March holding on to her final cohesive thought amidst the euphoric erosion of her composure. Anyway, that spot over there needed kissing.

“Stelle… I… I need more…”

“Soon.” The single word was all the grey-haired woman was willing to disrupt her task for.

“Stelle, it’s been hours.”

The woman on top divided her focus just enough to consult the previously dormant region of her mind responsible for monitoring the passage of time. Hmm, yes. By her estimates, March was right about how long it had been since they moved on from making out.

Normally, Stelle would regard acts of denial toward March 7th as the lowest forms of villainy. The rare exception came in the form of moments such as these: when the denial in question was putting off giving March something even better than what she was already having.

“Almost done,” she muttered, her enunciation severely hampered by the wrist she was wrapping her lips around.

“You’ve been…” March swallowed, “d-drinking my sweat for over an hour. That’s gross…” There was no conviction in her words. Her voice was nearly as wobbly as her knees at Stelle’s sides.

“That’s okay if you think so,” Stelle murmured. “More for me. Mm!” she hummed in realization. “Drink! You should drink!”

March was quickly shaken out of the mood. “W-What? No. If you want to lick me, that’s one thing, but I’m not-”

“No, no,” Stelle interrupted her, already pulling away and clambering off the bed. “Water. You need to drink some water.”

“Oh,” March breathed. She was relieved it had only been a misunderstanding, but was disappointed about the disruption.

Stelle returned with two dewy glasses, passing one to March. “You’ve been losing a lot of fluids. Have to stay topped up!”

Despite March’s dismay, the crisp, cold water was immensely refreshing. It was easy to get lost in the moment when Stelle was on her. The both of them used the restroom and finished rehydrating before returning to the bed.

It was the early hours of the morning. They should have been tired, but March had yet to be satisfied, and Stelle had yet to satisfy her, so there was much enthusiasm to get right back into things.

Stelle was back on March – tasting her lips and stroking her sides – like a stone abiding gravity. This time around, the gyrations against her abdomen were more pronounced. March had been such a good girl for her thus far – subject to all of Stelle’s touching, stroking, kissing, and so on, all without turning too ****. Hours upon hours of holding out under her ruthless affection without even one climax? Such legendary patience simply had to be rewarded.

For the first time that night, the motion in Stelle’s hips was more than the passive roll that came with embracing her girlfriend. March’s eyes opened, searching for a read of Stelle’s face to foretell of what was to come.

You, ideally, Stelle thought. She put more into it, shifting her arms to grant herself better leverage to saw her waist and pelvis into her partner, all while still holding her close.

March’s legs shifted too. She understood the change, and moved to accommodate it. Rather than anchoring Stelle with her best immobilizing leg lock, she relaxed enough to give her top room to move. She even went so far as to release Stelle’s tongue: a regrettable decision, but a calculated sacrifice that would prove shrewd.

“Finally done playing around?” March prodded, the limits of her breath could be heard approaching.

“I figured that… if I waited until I tired of exploring you, I’d never leave.”

“Knock it off before you give me a tooth ache,” March looked away, grinning.

Stelle wrangled her gaze back by lifting her pelvis and thrusting abruptly into March’s, producing a clap of their flesh meeting. “That get your attention?”

“Tch, hardly. I figured you had just slipped. After all, you seem to be getting tired. I’ve seen you more enthusiastic in your wet dreams.” March’s gaze wandered off again, this time deliberately.

“You want to talk about wet dreams?” Stelle unwound one arm from her lover’s form to thread it between their mounds. She did not grope at March’s clothed loins so much as she skimmed the surface of the fabric – the saturated, scalding fabric.

March’s breath hitched, but her expression held defiant.

Stelle raised her hand to show off the sticky strings that bound her fingers as they parted. “I’d say you fit the bill perfectly, my little wet dream.”

“I don’t think that sounds as hot as it did in your head.”

Stell broke into some light laughter. “Cut me some slack. I’m working with what I’ve got here.” She took a hold of March’s wrists, kissed each palm, and gently pinned them above her head of pink hair. “But if words aren’t cutting it… I’ll let actions speak.” With no further warning, Stelle set to it, bouncing her groin into March’s hips.

“Oh!” March exclaimed. “Ohhh~”

She could not even settle into the bumping before her grey-haired girlfriend was switching things up once more. Stopping as abruptly as she had started, Stelle set her mound to March’s and ground into her. The push and pull of their mons lent secondhand stimulation to March’s button.

The smaller woman felt her climax rushing at her, only for Stelle to abandon her groin and return to the mild pounding of her hips. The progress toward her summit was not lost, but it certainly was not arriving as soon as was promised.

A pause in the bumping, and Stelle’s pubis was on hers again. Forward and back, forward and back… It was like watching things play out from behind a window: a degree removed from what she truly wanted, denied the direct satisfaction, but oh-so gratifying and definitely winding her tighter.

She’s nearly there. Stelle slowed and pulled clear.

A grimace flashed over March’s features. A bark of amusement could be suppressed by Stelle; the evil smirk could not. No words were spoken, but their hearts and minds were open books to one another.

Another round of bumping to humping and back again.

The emotions on March’s face were as myriad as they were conflicting. Was that murderous intent Stelle saw?

“You’re amazing, March.” Stelle moved into the grinding position one last time. “You’ve put up with me all this while without a single complaint.” Her hips dragged over her partner’s; more slowly than before. “You manage to impress me at every turn.” She was going faster now. “Everyone’s supposed to have their weaknesses, and every time I think I’ve found yours, you show me another shining facet of a perfect crystal.”

“Yhhmegghh…” March slurred, an elbow falling over her eyes.

“What was that?” Stelle chuckled. She brought her ear in close like she wanted to hear, yet her thrusts only rose in cadence.

March muttered her response under **** breaths. “You… Y-Your my weakness…”

Stelle immediately closed her jaw around her girlfriend’s throat, lips mashing and teeth grazing the abused, purple flesh.

“St-!” March genuinely choked on the word. Her eyes rolled back, her face twisted, and her limbs snapped around Stelle like she wanted to crush the woman. Like the worst case of hypothermia, March shook – no, convulsed – around her lover. Through her personal storm, her mooring was unerring in grinding their loins together. “Aghhhhhhh!”

The pink-haired woman’s climax had only waned enough to cease moaning ecstatically when Stelle was at her ear.

“I love you, March,” she whispered. “I love you from the very beginning of the Trailblaze all the way to the end. I love you as far as the light from every star reaches, and beyond. I love you, I love you, I love you.”

Had this aftershock been coming even before Stelle’s breath tickled her ear lobe? Who could say? All that could be known was that the grey-haired woman was mighty keen to drive her girlfriend through every peak and pang that continued to echo down her nerves.

“St-Stop…” March practically gargled.

Stelle brought her thrusts to a halt and pulled clear of their sticky, sweltering union. She gazed down at her partner with unparalleled adoration.

“Need… to breathe…” March panted. Whenever her frame was not spasming, it was heaving for all the air it had forgone for the sake of rapture. As she recovered, she did not shift, touch, nor speak to Stelle. Even her eyes were cast high, looking toward the headboard lest her vision be occupied by the agent of ruin responsible for her state.

For her part, the taller Trailblazer hovered above, taking in all except for the tactile feeling of her lover.