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"I like this record player. What will you accept for it?"
The air within Lady Daffodil’s exchange shop always carries an intrigue that infects its customers. Even Tawil, the Proxy of the Aeon of Sagacity, finds Themselves curious.
Curious how They arrived here. In her omniscience, of course Tawil is aware of Daffodil’s capabilities—her grasp on interdimensional manipulation is second to none—but never did They think it was this powerful.
It isn’t that Tawil suddenly appeared here—no, They’re able to control that. More like Daffodil manifested her shop into Tawil’s realm; a place hidden from all but those who They allow in. Some place the Supreme Will could never find.
But that isn’t important, Tawil thinks. What’s important is that she’s here, and she can browse.
Huh.
Yes, that’s… strange. She can browse—and touch the cabinets and counters of the store, careful not to glance anything that may be fragile. Tawil had been browsing for hours, it felt like, wordless joy buzzing in Their whole being as They savor this too-rare experience.
Long have They yearned to explore the world, even just have someone to talk to, but the circumstances have never allowed for it. So upon finding this lovely record player, They smiled once again as Their finger traced its edges.
“Music, hm?” Daffodil stands from her chair. She had been watching Tawil browse the entire store from top to bottom, but Tawil never gave a response to any of her “Let me know if there’s anything you’re looking for.”’s or “I’m happy to answer any questions.”’s
Daffodil glances down from Tawil's face to the dessert plate-sized hole in Their chest, then looks back at Tawil with a smile. "You know, I don't really do this with customers, but..." She steps forward, puffing a ring of purple smoke from her lips and tracing her gloved finger along the outline of Their chest ring. "Well, I've never had a Proxy in my store before."
A bright red floods Tawil's cheeks and They jolt backward, covering the hole with Their arms. "Do you wish to mention your price...?" She glances to the side, eyes turned down.
The smile on Daffodil's face turns from amusement to curiosity at Tawil's reaction. "My, my... did I touch something sensitive? I sincerely apologize." She rests her arm on the victrola's case and eyes Tawil up and down. "I'll let you have this item, for a simple price."
Swallowing, Tawil manages to redirect her gaze to meet Daffodil's. The purple haze fills the shop, and though it doesn't hinder Tawil's cornflower stare, it certainly adds on to the air of dominance and control that Daffodil carries about her.
Another purpureus ring drifts off Daffodil's lips. "…Accompany me in my chambers," She takes another step forward, lifting Tawil's chin with her middle two fingers. "Just for one night?"
Tawil has never opened Their eyes wider, and has never felt more vulnerable than right now. Their pupils flicker between Daffodil’s gaze. “If… that is what you ask… I am okay with that price…” She looks down again, bottom lip quivering like a feather against a gentle breeze.
Daffodil frowns. “Goddess,” She adjusts the fingers on Tawil’s chin, taking a gentle hold of the side of Their face. “If my customers aren’t satisfied, then neither am I. If you want something else—if you think there’s a more desirable price for this item—tell me.” She lightly nudges Tawil’s chin up, urging Them to meet her eyes again. “I won’t accept ‘okay.’”
“…” Tawil’s cheeks burn, but They nod. “Yes, I… I believe that is something I want.”
“You believe?”
Curse this woman. “I desire it. It is a fair exchange.”
And that crawling smile spreads across Daffodil’s lips, and her fingers move from Tawil’s cheek. They glide down the side of Their neck, along Their shoulder.
Tawil raises her arm, palm downward, as Daffodil continues tracing a line down it until her fingers reach the hem of Their feathery black glove. Briefly, Daffodil shoots an inquisitive glance at Tawil, who replies with an expectant stare.
Daffodil removes the glove, then continues where she left off, putting her finger on the overside of Tawil’s wrist. Then, Tawil feels it. A tingle.
And as Daffodil’s finger draws along Tawil’s knuckles and down the length of Their digits, the shopkeeper takes Their hand in hers. She lifts the gatekeeper’s knuckles to her lips, making soft contact with lilac lipstick.
It has been a long time since she’s felt this way. Watching others able to play out relationships while she resides in a solitary confinement of her own making. There has always been a desire for another—a desire to explore.
Thanks to Daffodil’s ingenuity, it may finally be possible. But surely that’s getting ahead of herself.
“Shall we?” Daffodil looks up from Tawil’s hand, who silently nods.
Daffodil’s quarters aren’t quite what Tawil had imagined when it comes to the tall woman’s everbearing charm. Rather than a fancy, well arranged bedroom, it feels more like the residence of a hoarder: shelves lined with tchotchkes and a bed that They figure hasn’t been properly made in decades presents Tawil with a new view on the mercurial woman.
A gentle touch jolts Tawil out of Their thoughts, and she looks down at Daffodil pulling Them toward the bed. She sits Tawil down beside her, humming as she strokes the fingers of Their ungloved hand.
“I am of the belief that we’re quite like-minded,” Daffodil’s voice burns low as she takes her own glove off with her teeth, finger by finger. She then flips Tawil’s bare palm upward and strokes her index finger along Their life and love lines. “Both isolated… seeking experiences that others so easily come across. Such a simple idea for most, yet so seemingly unattainable for people like us.”
Daffodil’s other glove comes off, and Tawil’s skin tingles at each touch. Slow, grazing touches along the edges of Their palm, drawing hitches from her breath. Daffodil’s fingers glide along the sides of each of Tawil’s digits, dipping in and out of the gaps between them as if she was tracing the shape of her hand on a piece of paper.
It shouldn’t feel this good, but Daffodil is right; Tawil has long sought connection of any kind. The circumstances under which They live means to regularly go out and enjoy the simplicities of life is infeasible. The thought of simply going on a walk with a friend, or having a friend at all… it isn’t meant for her.
That is what she thought, until today.
Until Daffodil’s shop suddenly occupied the same space as Tawil’s hideaway. Then, out of nowhere, a connection bridged between them. Browsing the shop, while bringing Tawil a simple joy she’d always dreamt of, wasn’t enough.
It’s the way Daffodil’s fingers so delicatley, yet at the same time so eagerly explore the smallest and most sensitive parts of the Goddess. It’s the way Daffodil gradually leans closer and closer—and the way she smells: of green tea and blackcurrant and smoke.
As Daffodil’s middle two fingers slide from the base of Tawil’s wrist and up Their palm, the positions of their hands dance along the idea of intertwining. Tawil’s fingers twitch when Their fingerprints press against each other, but Daffodil moves a little further up. Her wrist bends slightly to the right, then her hand wraps around and holds Tawil’s. The gatekeeper’s fingers tuck inward, holding on to Daffodil’s single thumb as she gently strokes along Their knuckles.
Then Daffodil brings Tawil’s knuckles up to her mouth and closes her eyes. She doesn’t kiss—she merely savors the feeling of the Proxy’s skin against her lips. And Their scent feels so subtle and indescribable that it takes a few seconds for Daffodil to catch it, but it makes her smile into Their knuckles.
Every little breath Daffodil breathes out of her nose, Tawil feels warming her skin. It would perhaps seem awkward, the position They’re in, if it wasn’t so enrapturing. But as Daffodil, with her eyes still closed, maintains her lips against Tawil’s knuckles, her hand moves. across the back of Tawil’s hand and down along Their forearm. Daffodil’s eyes open halfway to watch her fingers move along the top of Tawil’s shoulder until…
“…!” Tawil gasps. Daffodil’s fingers tease on the edge of the hole in Tawil’s chest. And they stay there, unmoving.
“…Is this okay?” Daffodil smiles, glancing up at Tawil as she hesitantly touches the edge.
Tawil’s eyes dart away, but she nods. “Yes…”
And Daffodil slowly glides her finger along the circle’s edge, prompting light whimpering from Tawil. Daffodil hums, “What does this feel like to you?”
The gatekeeper’s body trembles, Their elbows shaking as They struggle to hold Themselves upright. “It… feels like how you were touching my hand, only…” Their voice turns to a whisper. “A kind of heat spreads below my chest.”
“Hmm,” Daffodil’s hand shifts upward, splaying out across the diameter of the cavity. She presses her thumb and middle finger on either side of it and gently pushes Tawil, guiding Their back onto the bed. With her other hand, Daffodil teases at the hem of Tawil’s dress, tracing her pelvic lines. “And down here… does it feel like that, too?”
“Mmnh…” Tawil’s hand goes from struggling to support herself to running fingers over Daffodil’s bed sheets. “A minor difference, but… yes.”
“…Then I believe I have a good idea of what this is like.” Daffodil coos, tracing on the upper edge of Tawil’s chest. Her lower hand gently fondles the cloth covering Tawil’s lower body. “May I?”
“Yes, you may.” Tawil’s face burns red with the flames of desire; flames that spread all throughout her form. And as Daffodil’s fingers slip beneath the cloth, Tawil finds gasps instinctively escaping Their lips.
“I’ve always wondered,” Daffodil adds two more fingers to the outline of Tawil’s chest, and she rubs featherlight along its edge. “It doesn’t look like you wear any underwear beneath this.” Her finger finds an unguarded fleshy valley, carefully inspecting it from top to bottom. “Truly, I know Awakeners don’t need it the same way humans do… yet your choice to exclude it,
“Drives me quite mad.” A sole middle finger slips inside, earning a trembling exhale out of the Goddess. Daffodil’s smile widens at that.
“Ngh…!” Tawil’s fingers dig into the sheets, and They grit Their teeth as Daffodil’s finger curls upward.
“To have a Goddess in my bed… I must not take a body like yours for granted…” Daffodil lays beside Tawil, burying her face in Tawil’s neck as she continues tracing circles on Their chest. “I want to savor every last atom.”
Tawil’s mind starts to burn as well, as Daffodil pushes a second finger inside, while the tips of her other hand begin caressing the inside of the ring. It’s all so much. Not that Daffodil is being aggressive—in fact, her movements are slow, precise. And it’s that aspect that steers Tawil toward a loss of breath.
Even Daffodil’s soothing voice and words of constant praise hardly register to Tawil now. So rarely do They experience the sense of touch, let alone any senses at all. But everything feels so sensitive, and it has been since They appeared in the shop, but now…
Daffodil has so effortlessly found the Goddess’ weak spots, and perhaps they weren’t even hard to find. But with the skill at which she treats her companion, it’s clear she’s done this before.
Not that Tawil thinks so—or that she thinks at all. By now, Daffodil’s touch leaves her as a drooling, whimpering mess. Tawil pulls the taller woman into a tight embrace where her nose presses against Their neck, and Daffodil chuckles.
Then, Daffodil stops moving her upper hand. Instead of gentle tracing, the shopkeeper slowly reaches her fingers through the cavity, then takes a hold of it. As her hand goes through the opening completely, Daffodil doesn’t need to wait very long for a reaction.
A single, short gasp leaves Tawil. They freeze up, arms wrapped around Daffodil as Their fingers—five gloved, five bare—dig into her back. It’s suddenly extremely uncomfortable, Daffodil thinks, but she has a choice now.
She could pull her hand out; let go of the inside of Tawil’s chest, then it’s likely They would let go. At that point Daffodil can bring Tawil to a more typical climax by focusing on her lower hand still working away.
Or, she could go further. The hole seems big enough Daffodil could fit her entire arm through, up to the shoulder. But this could have many results. The one that concerns Daffodil is Tawil potentially tightening Their grip even further: Their fingertips would likely have no trouble punching holes in Daffodil’s back and breaking several bones and layers of muscle all at once. Or worse.
On the other side of the scale, though, it could lead to the most intense orgasm Daffodil would ever have the potential to be responsible for, let alone witness.
And Daffodil likes her odds.
Buried forcefully in Tawil’s neck, Daffodil can feel every micromovement of muscles clenching tight, and she can hear the light trembling in Their voice. It’s as if Daffodil has paused Tawil in the exact moment right before climax. So she dares to unpause as she lets go of Tawil’s chest and puts her arm further forward.
As soon as her wrist passes through, Tawil “wakes up”. Daffodil feels no fingers burrowing into her, but instead feels the Goddess twitching uncontrollably.
Tawil cries: moans, gasps, and pants fill Daffodil’s bedroom. It sounds like nothing a deity of Their caliber should sound like, but it’s ever-angelic nonetheless. Truly, Daffodil has never heard noises so holy, and like the rest of Tawil’s body, Daffodil must savor this as well. Perhaps if she goes further in, she can draw it out?
She plants her palm at the back of Tawil’s neck, lifting Them upright. With Tawil laying against her chest, Daffodil can find an easier time going all the way.
For a moment it feels as though Daffodil’s elbow might not fit, but there’s a little more space than she thought. Once her elbow passes through, she weaves her fingers into Tawil’s hair and caresses the back of Their head.
As Daffodil’s shoulder presses against Tawil’s chest in Their embrace, it indeed has extended the gatekeeper’s reaction. By this point she doesn’t need to look to realize how wet her sheets have gotten—the stain has reached Daffodil now.
Tawil’s twitching dies down, and her breathing begins to slow. Their eyes open as Their mind slowly pieces itself back together, and They can feel a hand massaging Their scalp.
“M-Miss Daffodil…” Tawil rasps. “I…” She smooths her hands along Daffodil’s back. “I apologize, I lost consciousness, for a moment.”
“Mm…” Daffodil presses her nose into the other side of Tawil’s neck. “Intriguing. How are you feeling?”
Their eyes flit to the side, away from Daffodil. “…Soft.”
Daffodil smiles. She pulls her arm out an experimental centimeter or so, looking to gauge Tawil’s reaction. “May I take my arm back?”
“Slowly, please.”
The shopkeeper nods and goes slow, putting her free hand on Tawil’s shoulder to stabilize herself. Eventually she manages to get free and, miraculously, only made Tawil gasp three-and-a-half times.
Tawil sits on her knees in silence for several beats, clasping her hands together on her lap and looking at the dark spot on the sheets. Eventually, They look up again at Daffodil rubbing her arm. “Miss Daffodil.”
Daffodil reaches over to her bedside table to grab her pipe and a lighter, then faces Tawil again. “Yes, Goddess?”
Before Daffodil can put her lips to the pipe, Tawil reaches Their hand to her cheek. Daffodil’s eyes dart toward Tawil’s hand, then slowly at the smiling gatekeeper. Tawil looks the woman up and down appreciatively, then says, “Would you allow me a kiss?”
A pink blush crosses Daffodil’s cheeks, her heart skipping a beat. “I—“ She starts, then swallows a lump she’s happened upon in her throat. “I… would, yes. Please.”
Still with a light stammer in Their hands, Tawil brushes Their thumb against Daffodil’s cheek as They lean forward. Eyes closed, Their lips meet firmly with the shopkeeper’s, and they both take in sharp breaths through their nose.
After a moment, Their lips part, and Daffodil’s forehead bumps lightly against Tawil’s. And for a few seconds, all they desire to listen to is each other’s breathing. Minds alike, they find in each other a heart that has always yearned for the presence of another.
It seems natural, then, that they would find a connection like this. One that even time can’t take away.
“Miss Daffodil…”
“Hm?”
“Please allow me to visit your shop in the future.”
“I would love nothing more, Goddess.”