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There was no use trying to stop her once she got started.
“I thought you would need a more...particular kind of blood.”
Marika was a performer, through and through. Though Rennala had initially laughed at such a declaration, as to her shaking pom-poms and shouting was not exactly a performance, she knew by then what the other girl had meant. Beyond her cheerleading and exploits in the university’s theatre department, she simply loved to perform as a means of self expression.
And, Rennala would note with a sigh, because she simply liked to be loud.
“You know what I mean?”
“I know precisely what you mean, Marika,” Rennala assured her, laying her down gently on the floor.
Wiggling, Marika thrust her hips up and grinned at her girlfriend, cheer skirt falling back around her waist until her underwear showed. She asked, “Can’t use my blood then.”
“Can’t I?” Rennala mused. She ignored her girlfriend’s antics, brushing her skirt down.
“Not a virgin, so,” Marika implied, eyebrows lifting suggestively.
Rennala pushed her thighs down, keeping her in place as she knelt beside her. Drawing the knife across Marika’s arm slowly, lightly, not enough to cut, she said, “You consider what we did enough?”
“Well you made me squirt so I’d think-”
“Alright,” Rennala almost laughed, trying not to smile as she held the knife to her palm. “Not a virgin.”
“So how can you use my blood?” asked Marika.
“It doesn’t have to be a virgin’s blood,” Rennala told her. She held the back of her hand loosely, placing the dagger to the soft skin.
“But it says it in your book.” Matter of fact, and her nose scrunched.
“That just means blood that hasn’t been used for a ritual before,” Rennala explained. She smiled for her, if only to keep her calm, whispering, “A common mistake.”
“Then you can use my blood for potions and spells and stuff?” Marika tried lifting her head, only to flinch away when she saw the blade against her skin. A second look, as if to reconsider, and the flinching uncertainty became curious interest.
Curious arousal, Rennala corrected, when she saw how her cheeks flushed.
“I can.”
“That’s kinda hot.”
Rennala rolled her eyes and, in exasperation or as if Marika was not aware, reminded her, “You’re laid out and about to be cut open so your blood can be used for experimental magic.”
“Yeah,” Marika said, almost incredulous. She repeated, “Hot.”
“You’re not afraid?”
“Not with you.”
Typical, but earnest.
Gently sliding the blade against Marika’s palm, Rennala held her to those words. She waited for any sign of shock or fear, any sign of pain even as she did her best to make a clean cut. She found only Marika’s sparkling eyes fixed on her, lips quirked in a smile. There was nothing in her but trust, and love, her fingers curling and hand lifting to meet the blade.
The blood came slow, thick and oozing from the cut, and Rennala handled it quickly. As if to distract her, not wanting her to worry, Rennala decided to make conversation.
Clearing her throat and not knowing what else to say, she began, “You handled that well.”
“You handle me well,” Marika replied in that demure purr she had mastered.
“I’ve just cut you open and you’re flirting?”
“I can’t help it, not when there’s a pretty girl kneeling beside me, handling me so tenderly, piercing and penetrating my-”
“Marika,” Rennala laughed, shaking her head as she encouraged the blood to drip into a vial.
Smiling triumphantly, Marika said, “See? How am I not supposed to flirt when you laugh like that?”
“My laugh?” Rennala raised an eyebrow. She glanced at Marika, finding she was grinning ear to ear even as she looked up at the ceiling.
“You have the nicest laugh, and, you don’t laugh for just anyone or anything,” Marika told her, head turning and face nestling against the floor. Though her face was pressed awkwardly against it, she mumbled, “It’s special when you laugh for me.”
“If I’m laughing at you?” teased Rennala.
“You’re still laughing, that’s enough for me,” Marika told her with the best shrug she could manage in her position.
Rennala leaned over her, thumb pushing and easing more blood from her palm. Hair dangling around her, a shimmering black curtain to hide both their faces, Rennala leaned down and kissed her.
One thing, she knew, to let Marika hear her laugh, but another entirely to let her feel her smile pressed fully and for her against her lips.