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The ache in Lauma's antlers intensifies as she steps into Silvermoon Hall.
They have always been particularly sensitive on the day of her birth—Lauma knows this well. It's certainly much harder to deal with this year however, when the full moon is nigh. She was able to make it through the bombardment of gifts from the animals and the duties she had with her people and the hearty celebrations with practised ease, a singular soft wince that she swiftly covered up the only indication that she was in any more pain than usual. Now, however, when the day is near its end, she is prepared to return to her room where she can apply the remaining medicine for congenital kuuvahki sensitivity that Nefer had given her, and let her weary head rest.
She was prepared, at least, until she saw, in the distant shore, the figure of Luonnotar waiting for her.
Columbina had come to her party, but had left for an 'afternoon nap' in the middle of the day. Lauma had seen her off with a smile before promptly being pulled into a lively debate about how many birds could perch on her antlers at the same time. It warmed her heart, truly, to be surrounded by so many people who love her, but she couldn't help but feel it twinge every time she swept her eyes across the crowd and there was no angelic presence among them.
When Columbina had summoned her through Luonnotar, then, there was no question about following. How could she deny her goddess anything? Even when the flourishing kuuvahki in her abode threatens to overwhelm her senses, there is no other place she'd rather be.
"Hello, Lauma," Columbina greets with her back turned. Bathed in a halo of moonlight emanating around her body, she looks every bit the incomprehensibly powerful goddess she is. It makes her feel a little woozy.
"K—Columbina," Lauma forces out, her tongue instinctively beginning to roll over the comforting syllables of Kuutar at the divine sight in front of her. Her goddess faces her with a serene smile—she cannot tell if it is because she is happy to be called by her name or because she is aware of Lauma's near stumble.
Lauma searches for any discrepancies in her disposition. Her mask remains on, and her eyes remain closed. Every hair on her head appears untouched. The flowers blanketing the ground still glow almost blindingly blue. Nothing seems out of place, and yet there must be some reason she has been summoned so arbitrarily.
"Is there something troubling you?" she ventures.
Without another word, Columbina saunters over to one of the crescent moon-shaped structures scattered around the hall. Lauma watches as she sits on it, transfixed on her elegant and curious movements.
"Come," she beckons, in that airy, unreadable tone she always uses.
Such a simple request, and one that she is more than happy to oblige.
Columbina's head follows hers every step of the way, until she is craning her neck to meet an approximation of Lauma's gaze from where is she is standing in front of her at twice her height. The unbroken stream of attention stirs a warring flame of trepidation and desire in her chest.
"It's a little hard to speak to you from this position. Would you like to sit down?" She pats the spot just beside her.
Lauma obliges. There isn't much room, so the edge of her thigh is brushing just so against Columbina's.
"The Traveler told me you are often accosted by animals who come to tell you of their troubles in the middle of the night," Columbina says. "I want you to have somewhere where you can sleep unbothered, even for just one day. So please, rest here for the night."
Lauma opens her mouth to respond—to thank, to protest, to insist that such a blessing is not needed. Whatever it is, it never comes out, as a sharp swell of kuuvahki suddenly pierces through her skull.
She cries out, and it reverberates through the cavern in an echoing hammer of shame. Columbina's hands are hovering over her in an instant.
"I—I'm fine," she breathes. The pain has dulled into a pulsing ache—more manageable, but still distractingly persistent. "My antlers have been...quite sensitive, today. It's nothing I can't handle usually, but the strong kuuvahki energy here must be amplifying the effect."
"Oh." Columbina settles, relieved. "I can help with that. Bend your head down for me."
Lauma does as she's asked, curious as to where this is going. She looks up at Columbina as she holds her hands over her head like she's bestowing a blessing. Bright, pure white light blinds her for a moment, and when it dissipates, so too does the pain. She breathes out a blissful sigh—she had forgotten how light her head normally feels without the pressure. Her antlers are still sensitive, yes, but without the pain it feels more like a pleasant tingle.
"Thank you."
Columbina smiles.
"You're welcome."
Then, almost thoughtlessly, she trails a finger down her left antler, and oh—
Lauma lets out a strangled moan.
It reverberates, too, like her earlier cry, but the silence between her and Columbina is deafening. Her finger has paused its ministration to settle lightly on her antler, but even that gentle touch alone is adding fuel to the fire between her legs.
"I'm so sorry," she gasps. She is acutely aware of Columbina's silk-soft thigh against her own. She needs to collect herself, resume a respectable distance, get on her knees and apologise profusely for her blasphemously inappropriate reaction—
In a devastatingly calculated move, Columbina wraps her whole hand around the tip of her antler and strokes it down to the base.
This time, the moan that escapes her throat is far more wanton. Every nerve in her body is on fire, and the throbbing between her legs rivals the throbbing in her head from mere moments ago. Through the haze of overwhelming pleasure, she gathers herself enough to jerk away from Columbina's hold and whip her head towards her in disbelief.
"C—Columbina! What are you doing?"
She tilts her head, as if she cannot even fathom how there could be a problem with the Moonchanter of the Frostmoon Scions letting herself be pleasured by her goddess.
"Does it not feel good?"
It feels sinfully divine.
"That's...that's not the problem—"
"Lauma," she whispers, and she's coming closer and her breath is sending tingles across her face and her hand is drifting up to settle on her hair just inches away from the base of her antlers.
"Let me keep making you feel good."
She shouldn't do this. She knows this in the forefront of her mind, and yet. And yet. With the way she's asking her right now...
How could she deny Columbina anything?
Lauma breathes out her assent. Gone is the steady and put-together voice of the Moonchanter, replaced by a trembling husk of a worshipper eagerly lapping up the blessings of her goddess.
Columbina's lips press against her cheek like a reward. Then, slowly, ever-so-slowly, she brings her hand to the top of her left antler, and strokes it from tip to base once again.
Lauma moans a third time, and she lets it spill freely from her lips now that her pleasure is something her goddess wants her to give. It spurs Columbina on, and she starts lazily moving her loose grip up, down, up, down, humming underneath her breath as Lauma slowly unravels.
"Is this what you want, Lauma?"
"Yes," she pants. "I want—mmm, I want—anything, for you."
Columbina abruptly stills.
She keens at the sudden, aching loss of pressure. Her eyes snap open, and she's about to ask if something is wrong, but she's halted by how the smile has completely vanished from Columbina's face.
"Is that all this is?" Her voice is devoid of emotion, and it extinguishes the building heat in her gut to a barren wasteland of frost. "Just another offering for me? Were all your moans and cries of pleasure a fabricated attempt at satisfying me?"
Lauma opens her mouth, but finds that she cannot say a word. Something in her demeanour must absolve her incriminating silence, however, as Columbina merely sighs.
When she speaks again, her tone is soft, yet brooks no argument.
"Tell me. What is it you really want, Lauma?"
Lauma has wanted for her whole life. She wants the Frostmoon Scions to live peaceful and prosperous lives. She wants Hiisi Island to continue being a safe haven for it's inhabitants, human and animal alike. She wants her goddess to live happy and free and surrounded by love. She is a woman in service of her people, and her desire has always been to put this service first and foremost. But now, under the weighty demand of her goddess, she is forced to admit that there is nothing she wants more than for Columbina to fuck her until she can no longer remember her own name.
"I want you. Please."
Columbina hums, considering.
"Then why don't you show me?"
Lauma takes a shaky breath, steeling herself against the expectations of her tenets and her position and the ethereal woman in front of her. Then, she places two steadying hands on her shoulders, and surges forwards to capture her lips with her own.
She feels a small hum of surprise vibrate against her lips. It leads into a reciprocated push, as Columbina starts eagerly moving her soft lips against hers, one hand twining around her neck and the other resuming its ministrations on her antlers. The overlapping sources of pleasure swell into an overwhelming bliss swooping deep into her core. She chases after the feeling, lost in the heated caresses enveloping her in pure desire.
The brush of a thumb against her clothed nipple sends a sudden jolt through her body. She bucks her hips up, mouth falling open, and Columbina takes the opportunity to slip her tongue into her mouth.
"Hm? So this is what you like," she says in between her languid exploration of the inside of her mouth. Her tongue is warm and wet and has her spasming at every sensation. She slips off Lauma's thin garments and gently pushes her back against the arch of their crescent seat, so Lauma is left bare and wrecked underneath Columbina's relentless assault. With equal care, she places a palm on each heaving breast, and uses her thumbs to delicately roll each peaked nipple.
Lauma moans even louder, writhing and canting her hips into thin air. She's soaked. Columbina presses a knee against her folds, and her wetness smears against smooth skin—an irreversible mark of mortality upon the divine.
"Oh? It's sticky."
With the curiosity of a child that has discovered a delicious-looking condiment they have never seen before, she swipes a finger once through her folds. Lauma shudders. Columbina brings the finger to her mouth and wraps her lips around it. She hums in approval, savouring the taste.
"Columbina," she pleads. She doesn't even know what she's pleading for anymore.
"Hm?"
"Please..." Almost unthinkingly, she spreads her legs even further. "Touch me again...please."
The smile stretches wide across Columbina's face. She leans forward, her clothed breasts skimming against Lauma's own, and plants a slow, rewarding kiss upon her lips.
"As you wish," she murmurs into her mouth. Then she slips her saliva-soaked finger into Lauma's hole, and she sees stars.
"Ah, yes, there!"
Columbina takes her time dipping it in and out. She continues the pace even after adding a second finger, then a third, then a fourth, then a thumb over her clit that has her arching her back in a perfect crescent. Her walls clench in time with every thrust in a futile effort to keep the sweet feeling of fullness inside. Her stomach burns from how tight it is, second only to the building heat in her core that threatens to set her whole body aflame. And yet burning herself down isn't enough—she needs to explode.
"More," she begs.
"My my, Lauma. How greedy you are." Though she teases, there is an undeniably pleased lilt in her voice. "Perhaps we can try...this."
She feels the gathering of energy in the air a split-second before the pleasure ramps up from crashing waves to a full tsunami.
Kuuvahki flows from Columbina's fingertips, and it feels like nothing she's ever felt before. Every molecule in her body, from the tip of her antlers down to the soles of her feet, is vibrating with indescribably heightened sensation. It's the wildfire ravaging the forest, the looming tides crashing over the cliff, the earthquake splitting the ground in two. The fingers are moving faster, too, and it's all so much that it elicits a broken sob from her lips. Columbina is talking to her, she's distantly aware, but she cannot focus on anything except the sounds of her own pleasure reverberating through these hallowed halls. She's chanting Columbina's name over and over, a prayer embedded in her very soul, and the heat in her core is expanding far more intensely now, and it's building and building and it won't stop and she's going to—
"Open your eyes, Lauma."
Lauma obeys.
Columbina's eyes are openly staring into hers.
Those lilac depths, so rare a sight and so beautiful every time they are unveiled, tug at something deep within her. But what brings her over the precipice is the sheer enormity of desire in those half-lidded eyes, and oh—
Lauma cums.
A brilliant eclipse blooms across her vision. The sounds coming out of her mouth are inhuman; her body is thrashing like a wild beast. Columbina merely drinks up the view, her thumb continuing to circle around her clit and carrying her over the wave of her orgasm.
When she finally returns to herself, Columbina lays into the crook of her neck in a mirror of her own exhaustion. Picture-perfect and pristine, she looks almost no different from when she had first greeted Lauma upon her arrival, the only changes being the lack of eye mask on her face and the cum dripping down her hand. That reminder rouses her to alertness—she should clean them both up, tidy her clothes that have fallen among the flowers—oh, but she's forgotten herself, and hasn't even thought to reciprocate, and how could she be so selfish as to not ensure Columbina is satisfied as well?
"Columbina," she starts, only to be shushed with a finger—still sticky—on her lips.
"It's time to rest now, Lauma," she says, not even looking up at her from where she's made herself comfortable. "Oh, and happy birthday."
She wraps an arm over Lauma's stomach, and promptly stills.
Lauma blinks. Columbina makes no further movements, seemingly content to stay burrowed in her body for the rest of the night.
She huffs out a laugh—how perplexing Columbina can be, and how equally amusing.
In an imitation of the tenderness she has been so thoroughly lavished with on this night, she cards her free hand through Columbina's hair, and drifts off to sleep feeling lighter than she has in a long time.