25

Hrs & Hrs - Muni Long

The words hung in the air like a prayer: Make love to me, baby.

Kamala stilled. The sheets clung to her bare skin as she hovered over Mariah, her breath warm against the younger woman's cheek. A beat passed. Then two. And just like that, the shift in her body was almost imperceptible—the soft drop of her shoulders replaced with slow, deliberate intention.

She had made love before. Soft, careful, romantic. But this? This was going to be different. Kamala wasn't simply responding to Mariah—she was claiming her. Without apology. Without hesitation.

Mariah felt it first in the press of Kamala's palm against her sternum—not forceful, but firm enough to ground her, to say stay right there. Kamala's eyes never left hers as she whispered, "you sure?"

And Mariah nodded, her lips parting, chest rising, eyes wide and needy. Kamala could see it all—the anticipation, the ache, the want that clung to her skin like dew. She leaned down, lips brushing Mariah's collarbone, and started there.

Her mouth was soft at first—open mouthed kisses trailing slowly from the base of Mariah's throat to the top of her breast. Her hands, strong and knowing, ghosted over her hips, down her thighs, spreading her gently. Kamala's touch wasn't rushed. No. She had all night. And she wanted Mariah to feel every second.

Mariah gasped when Kamala's tongue flicked just under her breast, a deliberate tease. Kamala smirked, proud of the sound she pulled from her.

"She's so responsive," Kamala thought, gaze flicking down. "God, she's beautiful like this."

Mariah's fingers gripped the sheets, legs shifting restlessly under Kamala's body. Her breath caught in her throat when Kamala finally moved lower, her hands sliding under Mariah's thighs, lifting, settling between them like she belonged there. Like she'd been born for this.

Kamala kissed her inner thigh, then again, higher—taking her time, eyes flickering up just in time to see Mariah bite her lip, struggling not to move.

And then Kamala froze.

She looked up, voice low and dark, "if you touch me without permission, I'll stop."

Mariah's eyes widened. A thrill ran through her. She nodded quickly.

Kamala's lips curved into something close to a smile—dangerous and calm. "Good girl."

With that, she dragged her tongue in a slow, devastating line up Mariah's center, and Mariah's back arched off the bed as her hands flew up—only to catch herself mid-air, her fists tightening in the sheets instead.

Kamala's control was razor sharp. Every lick, every kiss, every breath was intentional—designed to build her higher without letting her fall. Her voice was low when she finally spoke again, between the kisses that had Mariah shaking:

"Take it. You wanted this. Let me give it to you."

And Mariah did. She surrendered completely.

What began as a whisper of love turned into something primal, sacred—a rhythm, a ritual. Kamala took her time until Mariah was trembling beneath her, until tears pressed at the corners of her eyes from the sheer intensity of it.

And Kamala didn't stop.

She kept going until Mariah's voice broke into a cry, hips twitching, a helpless mess under the weight of Kamala's mouth, her hands, her heat.

Mariah was still catching her breath, body slack against the sheets. Kamala was sitting back on her heels, watching the aftershocks ripple through the girls thighs.

God, she was a mess. Hair wild. Lips swollen. Skin damp with sweat and satisfaction. Kamala smirked to herself—the kind of smirk that comes from knowing you're the reason someone looks wrecked.

But she wasn't done.

Not even close.

Kamala ran a hand down Mariah's leg, slow and possessive. She leaned over, brushing her lips just behind Mariah's ear. "You're not already tired, are you?"

Mariah let out a weak laugh, eyes fluttering open. "No, ma'am.."

Kamala's body tensed at that, something about the way she said it—soft, obedient, laced with lust— flipped a switch deep in her chest.

She got off the bed slowly and walked to the drawer by the nightstand. No need to hide it. Not tonight.

The black strap was already waiting, coiled and sleek. Kamala unbuckled it like it was second nature—because it was. The weight of it, the feel of it—it made her feel like herself.

She glanced over her shoulder at the bed. Mariah was watching her, eyes wide, chest rising again. Kamala smirked. She tightened the straps, adjusted her stance, and turned back to the bed.

"On your knees," she said, voice flat and steady.

Mariah blinked. "Wha-"

Kamala's brow lifted.

Mariah scrambled. "Yes ma'am."

She moved fast, body still sensitive from earlier, but willing—so damn willing—to give Kamala whatever she wanted.

Kamala moved behind her slowly, running her hand down Mariah's spine as she knelt. The curve of her behind in the air, the little tremble in her thighs, the way her breath hitched when Kamala touched her—it was too perfect.

"Before we start, if it gets to be too much for you, your code word is red." She said and Mariah nodded. "I need words, beloved." Kamala said. "I understand."

She lined herself up, pressed forward just enough to make Mariah gasp—the pulled back.

"Tell me you want it."

"I want it."

"Louder."

"I want it, Kamala. Please."

That please made Kamala grip her hips tighter. She pushed in, slow at first, watching Mariah's hands fist the sheets.

A strangled moan slipped from her mouth.

Kamala bit her lip. The strap filled her vision now, the power of it, the way it made Mariah fall apart all over again.

She moved with control at first—deep, steady strokes, making Mariah feel every inch. Then she shifted her stance, grabbed a fistful of hair, and snapped her hips forward hard enough to make Mariah cry out.

"You're taking me so well," Kamala praised.

She drove into her again, then again, hips snapping, her palm slapping curve of Mariah's ass as the bed started to rock.

Mariah was begging now—for more, for harder, for everything.

Kamala obliged.

She bent over, lips brushing Mariah's ear again. "You take me so well. Look at you—crying for it."

Mariah whimpered, body shaking.

"You love this, don't you?" Kamala said through gritted teeth, thrusting harder now.

"Yes—yes, I love it—oh my god—"

"Say it."

"I love when you fuck me, Kamala—oh my god—please—don't stop—"

Kamala's head dropped back. Her control was surgical. Her rhythm never broke.

"Fuck—baby, you're hitting my spot!" Mariah said her moans getting louder with each thrust. "Devi, fuck!—i'm cum—I'm cumming!" she said and Kamala didn't stop.

She didn't stop until Mariah's legs gave out and she collapsed forward, limp and ruined.

Kamala pulled out slowly, letting the strap fall, her fingers gently trailing down Mariah's spine again. Then she knelt down, spread Mariah's legs and licked her lovers mess up.

"Mm, you so nasty." Mariah said, her voice hoarse. Kamala let out a small chuckle and got up to kiss her lover, slow and deep. "hm, I taste good." she said, her eyes low.

***

Kamala reached for the towel draped across the chair. She didn't say a word, just moved with that same careful control she always did—except now, her hands were soft. Slow.

She wiped gently between Mariah's legs first, easing the soreness with a warm cloth and soft touches, her fingers brushing along the backs of trembling thighs.

Mariah flinched.

"Shh," Kamala whispered. "I got you."

She folded the towel, pressing a kiss to the small of Mariah's back before rising from the bed. The room was quiet except for the faint hum of the air conditioner and the soft creak of the floor as Kamala walked to the bathroom.

She came back with a glass of water and two Advil in her palm.

Mariah was curled on her side now, her hair a tangle across her pillow. Her eyes fluttered open when she felt the edge of the glass press gently to her lips.

"Drink."

She did.

Then Kamala slipped into bed beside her, pulling Mariah into her arms like she was something fragile. She held her there, bare skin against bare skin, no space between them—just warmth and breath and the soft thump of two hearts trying to catch up.

Mariah's voice was rasp. "You're so gentle after..."

Kamala smiled, burying her face in Mariah's curls. "You're mine. I take care of what's mine."

Mariah hummed, melting into her chest. "Mm. That was different."

Kamala chuckled. "Different good or different scary?"

"Both," Mariah whispered. "But mostly good. Like... so good."

There was a beat of silence. Then Kamala reached down, her fingers grazing Mariah's hand under the covers. She found the promise ring still on her finger and gave it a soft squeeze.

"You okay?" She asked.

Mariah nodded against her. "Yeah. You didn't go too far."

Kamala exhaled, relieved. "Good. I told you—I'd never take you anywhere you didn't want to go."

Mariah smiled, already halfway asleep.

And in that quiet moment—tangled together, the night pressing in soft around them—Kamala felt something deeper settle inside her.

Something that had nothing to do with dominance or control.

She kissed the crown of Mariah's head and whispered, almost to herself: "You're all I want."

———

The end. Love you guys..