If Magni - had. Lakshmi certainly hadn't. Not out of pious chastity, or a lack of curiosity, but never - time, place. Being completely alone enough as first a daughter, or then as a wife, who had maids about her. Some part of her would be too mortified at ever being caught, to risk it even when she spent her days feverishly thinking about it.

Because she doesn't think she could handle it, if someone stopped this, now. Her hands hang on like grim death. Her nails biting into Magni's shoulders, over the lines of those slopping tattoos that cover her back. Realising what is happening and trying not to squirm, to make it difficult for those wondering hands. But it isn't completely possible. Her chest arches, pressing into her palm and fingers. That stroke down, down, down, curving around her hips, where her legs are curled under her.

Lakshmi gasps, jolting sharply into her, one hand slipping off her shoulder as she nearly rolls the rest of the way up her knees. Before she rolls back. Looking for the touch again. A jumble of nerves and words, jitting, desperately trying to contain herself by sliding a hand onto the edge of the bath. Gripping the tub with a hard line of her shoulders tensing. It wasn't just her feverish mind playing tricks her, she did feel warm, felt warm there - more than bath water.

Tentatively, her eyes lowered to watch Magni as she moved. Breathing hard still, she began to move. Mimicking the gesture. Rolling her body back against her hand, working how to shift her weight in a way that makes it smooth. Forces her knees that little bit apart so Magni can touch more.