Purity

Iwia and Leila guard each other like lovers sworn to watch. They’ve promised their bodies to no one until rings change everything, yet the want keeps rising anyway. So when the pulse between their thighs won’t quiet, they handle it together. Fingers know the rule: they stay clear of the wet, sacred entrance. Lips and tongues circle the outside, slick and patient, drawing breath after trembling breath. Leila finds that faint bead above Iwia’s folds and stays there, constant and exact, until her friend’s hips tilt and the voice starts to shake. Iwia returns the favor in turn, mouth pressed low, eyes locked to watch what it does to Leila’s face. Both come slow and soft, heat uncoiling across skin they’re allowed to touch. Sweat clings to bellies pressed close; nothing inside is ever taken. When it’s done they lie tangled, breaths settling, secrets still unbroken. The promise remains. The ache finds its edge without breaking the vow.