[The bite she leaves behind gets finished off with the slide of her tongue, grip shifted so the whip's held in place via her left arm and what corded leather of its tail is currently wrapped neatly around her wrist. It gives him room to breathe, but only just, and how much is a factor Nisha clearly plans on leaving more flexible than defined.] Not until I've perfected it, anyway.
[Her lips move to the base of his neck, voice a low whisper that pools against the collar of his coat.] On your knees, Hyperion.
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[Her lips move to the base of his neck, voice a low whisper that pools against the collar of his coat.] On your knees, Hyperion.