[Nadia] NSFW moments outside of time

Nadia's left hand skims across your bare chest. Her eyes are dark with focus or want - you can't tell which. The way she is straddling you makes it hard to think.

"Aorta," she whispers, tracing her fingers up your breastbone. "Subclavians." Fingertips fan out to touch both collarbones, then trail up again. At your throat, her fingers spread wide; she takes your neck in her palm, murmuring, "Carotids."

She adds a tiny pinch of pressure - you gasp, unsure if it's from desire, fear, or lightheadedness.

"I could choke you to death right now." Her voice is clinical and detached, but her hips swivel a little, pressing herself against you.

The softest grinding motion has your words stuttering. "Are you planning on it?"

"No." She considers you, a small smile tilting her lips. "Not yet, anyway."

A harder press, groin-to-groin, and you let out a pathetic little noise, lips parting. This must satisfy her somehow - she leans down, full lips ghosting above yours. "Are you afraid?"

"Not yet." Is it a lie? Your senses are too focused on the places your skin touches hers.

Nadia smiles, her hand skimming downward. Across your breastbone again, and then slowly traveling down. Down.

"Shit," you whimper. If she weren't above you, pinning you, you think you'd arch off the bed. But she is an anchor even as her hands pause on your abdomen.

"You know anatomy, right?" She breathes. "The aorta to the celiac trunk." Fingers inch down. "The superior mesenteric." Down. "And then..."

"Nadia," you beg.

Her hips dip and roll, pressing against you. The pressure makes you bite your lower lip, eyes locked on where your bodies meet. Just two more inches, and she'll be where you need her, where you ache for her.

Nadia gracefully raises off of you, adjusting to hovering above your knees. Her hands slide from your abdomen and dip low, following your hip bones to your upper thighs. Her short nails rake against the sensitive skin, dragging just enough to sting.

"Femoral artery," she breathes as she traces lines on your body. "You could bleed out in a matter of minutes if I cut you here."

Before you can say anything, she dips low to press her lips to your right thigh. The kiss is soft; the subsequent bite is not.

"Fuck!" you hiss, jolting, but she holds you in place, sucking the skin between her teeth. A spike of pleasure lances through the pain; your brain bubbles in opalescent swirls.

Her bites trail upward, but she's taking so long. It's torture to have her so close to your throbbing center, her breath teasing and warm.

A loose twist of hair brushes you just right; your eyelids flutter. Her tongue slides out at the end of your thigh, dragging flat and wet in a shockingly straight line toward your core.

Her mouth devours you. The change is so sudden that you nearly come undone that instant. The heat of her mouth engulfing you, her tongue pressing and curling with unwavering ease...

She tastes you like she's done it a million times. She breathes you in like you're her favorite scent. She...she...

"Nadia," you gasp, a hand helplessly grasping her shoulder. "God, fuck, Nadia, please-"

You're mumbling, sending staccato words and moans into the air. Nadia doesn't speed up, but the pressure intensifies. Her tongue becomes the flat of a dagger, close to cutting.

So close.

You clench your eyes shut, clenching your jaw. The distant sensation of sweat pricking your forehead, beading on your temple, can't distract you from Nadia.

The suction shifts, and intensifies. You arch your back; the only things that keep you from jolting out of Nadia's reach are her hands on your hips. "Nadia!" you cry, helpless, chest heaving.

And then she curls her tongue, and you gasp wordlessly. Your fingers curl into claws against the woman's shoulders. Nadia shows no sign that she feels it and no sign that she plans to stop.

You come hard, the sensation sharp and almost painful but so good. You taste blood from your bitten tongue, but you can't make yourself care. You can't make yourself think.

Nadia drapes yourself over you, hip-to-hip, chest-to-chest, and kisses you. Her tongue lazily swipes yours. She doesn't recoil from the tang of blood; you don't recoil, either, wrapping your arms around her and trying to pull her closer.

In that moment of hazy warmth, you wish you could sew yourself to her and never lose this feeling.