Those words from this woman she keeps picturing as so fragile and so delicate are— unexpected, to say the least. She remembers still the earnest, bright smile that first time Magni kissed her, how they'd woken up curled up together, Rani in clothes far too big for her and all the more charming and endearing for it. She had been charmed by her from so early on, protective of her from the first, and she had wanted her so long, but even with knowing that mischievous charm and the playfulness that was held within that proper, noble woman, thinking that wanting her so badly was not somehow an affront to that demure, gentle woman was hard for her.

And now, Rani's hips grind down against her, their bodies are so close, and she almost feels like the air is being stolen from her for how much she keeps wanting. The warmth of her tongue against her neck makes her moan a soft, keening sound that almost gives way to something lower and rougher.

That tongue, but those words. A blush is already burning red over her shoulders and her neck and cheeks, but deepens now. Her eyes, stark blue and briefly worried, before the words, their meaning, truly sinks into her. Comprehension, as she flexes her fingers against Rani’s rear and grips harder. Cautious again, before she reminds herself. Trusts her wife, rather than fretting.

“Fearful?” Teasing a little, retaliation, as she makes herself slow her hand all the more, leaning back with her chin tilting slightly upwards, playfully defiant, though she cannot keep up the ruse for long. She wants to touch Rani too fiercely, wants to make her feel good, and she jerks her closer to kiss her hard, nips her lip before sucking on it.

Less tentative, then. The motions become longer, drawing further before driving back in harder, pulling Rani closer with each thrust and moving faster. Kissing her throat and her jaw, before she murmurs against her ear, low and quiet.

“I’ve been thinking about you for so long. How you feel,” her fingers quicken, and the thrusts come harder, “how you sound.”