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Their first time had happened not unlike the time they’d been assigned to organize the library together.
Hilda liked to consider herself a pillow princess. Pleasing someone in bed always took so much effort, and if her partner could get as much pleasure as they gave by letting her just lie back and enjoy, what was the problem with being a little lazy? She approached sex like she did most things: with the intent to get a maximum payoff with minimal effort, lavishing praises in exchange for someone else doing all the real work.
But then there was Marianne. Sweet, innocent Marianne.
She had tried so hard, it was adorable, really. But she was nervous, and a virgin, and Goddess bless her, Hilda just couldn’t get into it when Marianne stopped every three seconds to make sure she was okay. So, like with the library, Hilda tried to help her out, only to end up taking charge.
Unlike the library, however, the experience flipped a switch somewhere in Hilda’s brain. Having Marianne under her, gasping and gripping her hair with trembling fingers as Hilda took her apart piece-by-piece had been nothing short of incredible. She’d only been able to use her mouth (long fingernails had never been such a problem before) but even so, she’d managed to bring Marianne to completion three times. Virgins are so easy, she’d thought as she cuddled and praised her girlfriend through the aftershocks.
The next day, Hilda clipped her fingernails short.
It became a game for each night they spent together after. Hilda kept a secret count of how many orgasms she could wring out of Marianne before she started crying from the over-stimulation and asked to stop. Her high score was seven, which she’d managed during a particularly desperate session after a battle in which they’d both almost died. It didn’t seem like they’d beat that record tonight—she was only at four, but tears were already welling up in Marianne’s eyes.
“H-Hilda…” she gasped, her voice music to Hilda’s ears, “Please, I c-can’t…”
Hilda pouted, leaning over Marianne with one of her legs over her shoulder and two fingers buried to the knuckle. Marianne’s other leg was between her own, and she ground her hips down against her thigh lazily as she whined, “Aww, please, Mari? You’ve been so good tonight—can’t you do one more? For me?”
The praise sent a shudder through Marianne, as it always did, causing her to clench around Hilda’s fingers. Hilda curled those fingers just so for good measure, reveling in the way her girlfriend’s hips bucked at the added pressure.
“If you really want me to stop, you just have to say so,” she reminded her sweetly. “Do you really want me to stop, Marianne?”
Marianne’s eyes squeezed shut and her brow furrowed, but she shook her head weakly. Hilda grinned, rubbing her thumb in circles around her girlfriend’s clit, causing her legs to shake. So cute.
“That’s my girl,” she praised, dragging her fingers out slowly, only to press back in with a third. “You’re always so sweet for me, Mari. I’m so lucky to have such a cute girl like you to play with.”
“Hilda—”
She was so responsive that, even after all this time, it made Hilda’s head spin. She totally understood now, why her previous partners had always been so willing to do all the work for almost nothing in return. Just the sound of Marianne crying out for her, falling to pieces for her, was enough to have Hilda wet and grinding against her girlfriend’s thigh. It was hot. So, so, so hot. Well worth the extra effort, well worth the way her wrist would start to cramp up and ache for days afterwards. Marianne’s braids had fallen loose ages ago, and her hair spread out around her on the pillow like a halo. Hilda had never really been religious, not to the extent of most nobles, but seeing Marianne like this had her giving thanks to the Goddess anyway.
Marianne’s breathing started to come shorter and faster, little punched out ah-ah-ahs each time Hilda pressed as deeply as she could reach. Her legs began to shake, and Hilda groaned as she rubbed herself against the thigh between her legs, moving her hips in tandem with her fingers. She was close, closer than she wanted to be just yet, but working Marianne through four orgasms without reaching one of her own was beginning to catch up with her.
“Come on, Mari,” she bent over to coo in Marianne’s ear, bracing herself on her left forearm while the fingers on her right hand curled to press incessantly against her G-spot. “You can do it, sweetie, you’re almost there…”
Hilda continued to babble encouragement and praises as they barreled closer and closer to the edge. Marianne released her iron grip on the sheets, opting instead to throw her arms around Hilda’s neck to bring her in for a kiss. Hilda laughed softly when their lips met, devolving into a moan as Marianne ground her thigh up between her legs.
“H-Hilda,” she cried, tears starting to spill down her cheeks, “I--!”
“Shhh, I know, I know,” Hilda whispered, pressing their foreheads together and her fingers as deep as she could get them. “You’re so good, Mari, so so so good.”
She curled her fingers one last time, pressed her thumb hard against her clit, and Marianne was lost. She cried out, whimpering and gasping as her fifth orgasm took hold, pulsing hot around Hilda’s fingers. Hilda whined high at the sensation, still babbling as she fingered her girlfriend through her orgasm, thighs quivering as she found her own against Marianne’s thigh. She came down slowly, static buzzing between her ears as she tried to catch her breath. Marianne was still whimpering below her when she came back to her senses, tears staining her cheeks, legs still shaking, looking absolutely wrecked. All because of Hilda.
Marianne shuddered as she gently removed her fingers and wiped them clean on the sheets. With shaky arms, Hilda dragged herself just close enough to the edge of the bed to grab the handkerchief from the pocket of her skirt that had been discarded on the floor and was back before Marianne even processed that she was gone. She wiped her tears with it, shushing and soothing and whispering sweet nothings as Marianne’s breathing finally began to slow.
“Hilda…”
“Shhh,” Hilda shushed her again. “Just relax, I’ll take care of you. You did such a good job, Mari.”
Hilda managed to get both cleaned up before she finally collapsed to the bed, tossing the dirty handkerchief to the floor to be washed later. Marianne looked like she might already be asleep, and Hilda was filled with a strange pride at the thought that she might have fucked her so well that she fell asleep immediately after. Satisfied and still buzzing in the afterglow, she pulled the covers over them and curled up against Marianne’s side, sighing contentedly.
“You’re amazing, Mari,” she whispered dreamily, “I love you so much.”
Marianne didn’t reply except for a sleepy mumble that sounded something like “love you too,” but Hilda didn’t mind. She knew from the way she turned towards her and pulled her against her chest, cuddling her like a teddy bear. She knew from the way she was the only one Marianne allowed to see her like this, allowed her to be the only person to have ever known her so intimately. They were so different, the two of them; Marianne shy and quiet while Hilda was brash and noisy. It had been a lot of work to get her to come out of her shell, to get her to laugh and recognize her own worth, to get her to the point where she allowed herself to be vulnerable around the people who cared about her. Hilda had helped her every step of the way and fallen in love in the process. Yes, it was a lot of work, more work than Hilda had ever done in her entire life, perhaps. But if all that work was what led her here, cuddled up in bed with a satisfied and sleepy Marianne, then it had been well worth the effort.