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sigyn_haljaTitle: A Girl on Fire for A Girl
Fandom: Greek Mythology
Characters: Iphis, Ianthe
Pairing: Iphis/Ianthe
Summary: Iphis is not turned into a man. But she marries Ianthe anyways, and Ianthe is in love with her regardless of her gender (even if not initially). Describe their wedding night.
Warnings: femslash, what if, NSFW (slightly)
Author's notes: Written for Mythology Kinkmeme
Iphis/Ianthe – A Girl on Fire for A Girl
Her vows come to her a mind as her husband holds her hand, pushes it under the soft, refined cloth to make her touch his chest – hers. Hers, now. Ianthe thinks of the smile on her father’s face and the tears that filled Iphis’ mother’s eyes. She knew, just as Iphis always knew and told her nothing.
Iphis’ flesh is soft and smooth and Ianthe can feel her shivering where her fingertips caress her slowly, barely touching her. She looks up: the lines of Iphis’ face are still as sharp and as handsome as she’s always known them, her jaw strong and her brow high and her skin darkened by the Sun. Iphis’ dark eyes won’t meet her gaze, even as her long fingers clutch her hand firmly.
They’d held hands before - just quick stolen moments, after making sure no-one was watching. Ianthe would always think of her wedding day and of their fingers entwined and Iphis’ slightly chapped lips on hers.
- I’ll let you run away, if you wish so. With a man you will be able to fall in love with – her husband says, startling her, her cold, distant voice breaking through the mist of memories and broken dreams. – I’ts the only right thing to do.
Iphis’ eyes are not really looking at her, veiled as their are with sorrow, or perhaps guilt. There had been a time when those eyes had looked at her with only love in their dark dephts, love and devotion and a strange shyness Ianthe could never really understand. Those times are gone, it seems, and yet Ianthe can’t help but still look back at her.
- Why? – she asks, and she’s surprised at how hoarse and tired her voice sounds.
- Mares do not burn with love for mares – Iphis says. The thin smile on her treacherous husband’s thin lips isn’t even as sad as it ought to be, if it is true that she ever loved her, behind all the lies and the disguises: she has already given up, she has just given up.
Earlier that day, Ianthe’s breast had burned with joy and with love, and she had almost choked on laughter and song. Now it’s pure fire that burns her, coiling in her stomach and coursing through her veins, piercing the back of her eyes with tears she won’t shed, bursting in tiny sparks where her fingers still brush Iphis’ breast.
- I am no mare -.
Iphis – her wife, it hits her now and she thinks of a maiden’s old dreams and hopes as she grips her flesh – takes a sharp intake of breath and finally, finally looks at her. She tries to say something, but her mouth opens and closes wordlessy as Ianthe hand begins to move up and down, massaging her lightly, shy and determined.
- Stop it. This is not right.
But Ianthe does not stop. – Was your heart true, if not your body? – she asks instead, her other hand rising to cup the nape of Iphis’ neck, her fingers tangling in short dark hair. For a moment, Iphis looks like she’s about to push her away, but then she closes her eyes and nods.
- Is it still true? -. And Ianthe doesn’t even know what she’s doing, because Iphis’ perfume fills her nostrils and her own heartbeat pounds in her ear and she’s confused and shaking, but she gets closer anyway, presses their bodies together. – Yes – is the only word that comes out of Iphis’ mouth, in a sigh both of pain and of pleasure.
- Then, this is right.
Her wife’s lips are softer than she expected, yielding so swiftly under the pressure of her own, and that’s the first thing that truly feels right on this surprising wedding night of hers.
Fandom: Greek Mythology
Characters: Iphis, Ianthe
Pairing: Iphis/Ianthe
Summary: Iphis is not turned into a man. But she marries Ianthe anyways, and Ianthe is in love with her regardless of her gender (even if not initially). Describe their wedding night.
Warnings: femslash, what if, NSFW (slightly)
Author's notes: Written for Mythology Kinkmeme
Iphis/Ianthe – A Girl on Fire for A Girl
Her vows come to her a mind as her husband holds her hand, pushes it under the soft, refined cloth to make her touch his chest – hers. Hers, now. Ianthe thinks of the smile on her father’s face and the tears that filled Iphis’ mother’s eyes. She knew, just as Iphis always knew and told her nothing.
Iphis’ flesh is soft and smooth and Ianthe can feel her shivering where her fingertips caress her slowly, barely touching her. She looks up: the lines of Iphis’ face are still as sharp and as handsome as she’s always known them, her jaw strong and her brow high and her skin darkened by the Sun. Iphis’ dark eyes won’t meet her gaze, even as her long fingers clutch her hand firmly.
They’d held hands before - just quick stolen moments, after making sure no-one was watching. Ianthe would always think of her wedding day and of their fingers entwined and Iphis’ slightly chapped lips on hers.
- I’ll let you run away, if you wish so. With a man you will be able to fall in love with – her husband says, startling her, her cold, distant voice breaking through the mist of memories and broken dreams. – I’ts the only right thing to do.
Iphis’ eyes are not really looking at her, veiled as their are with sorrow, or perhaps guilt. There had been a time when those eyes had looked at her with only love in their dark dephts, love and devotion and a strange shyness Ianthe could never really understand. Those times are gone, it seems, and yet Ianthe can’t help but still look back at her.
- Why? – she asks, and she’s surprised at how hoarse and tired her voice sounds.
- Mares do not burn with love for mares – Iphis says. The thin smile on her treacherous husband’s thin lips isn’t even as sad as it ought to be, if it is true that she ever loved her, behind all the lies and the disguises: she has already given up, she has just given up.
Earlier that day, Ianthe’s breast had burned with joy and with love, and she had almost choked on laughter and song. Now it’s pure fire that burns her, coiling in her stomach and coursing through her veins, piercing the back of her eyes with tears she won’t shed, bursting in tiny sparks where her fingers still brush Iphis’ breast.
- I am no mare -.
Iphis – her wife, it hits her now and she thinks of a maiden’s old dreams and hopes as she grips her flesh – takes a sharp intake of breath and finally, finally looks at her. She tries to say something, but her mouth opens and closes wordlessy as Ianthe hand begins to move up and down, massaging her lightly, shy and determined.
- Stop it. This is not right.
But Ianthe does not stop. – Was your heart true, if not your body? – she asks instead, her other hand rising to cup the nape of Iphis’ neck, her fingers tangling in short dark hair. For a moment, Iphis looks like she’s about to push her away, but then she closes her eyes and nods.
- Is it still true? -. And Ianthe doesn’t even know what she’s doing, because Iphis’ perfume fills her nostrils and her own heartbeat pounds in her ear and she’s confused and shaking, but she gets closer anyway, presses their bodies together. – Yes – is the only word that comes out of Iphis’ mouth, in a sigh both of pain and of pleasure.
- Then, this is right.
Her wife’s lips are softer than she expected, yielding so swiftly under the pressure of her own, and that’s the first thing that truly feels right on this surprising wedding night of hers.
