From the dusky glaze in Fallon's eyes-- something like hunger and fury at once consuming and inflaming-- the answer isn't one of words.  Her mouth hangs partly open, even white teeth glinting in the droning glow of light, and her breath spills over Senna's open mouth as she hovers over her.  Her full breasts hang pendulously at the angle, the flesh swollen with primal desire, the erect buds of her nipples grazing at the half-elf's as she shifts subtly to create friction-- like kneading her with her body-- from where the two girl's calves meet, all the way to where her hips grind between Senna's supplicant, parted thighs. "You will," she manages, her face so close that Senna cannot even see her any more-- only features, swirling together in a mad sea of her skin, her hair, her eyes, in the blue-white glow.<br/><br/>Without ceremony, she lifts her head and plunges herself onto Senna's breast, her mouth wide to engulf one protruding breast, as her left hand slides down her lower body.  She shifts subtly to give room, straddles Senna's thigh and grinds her own bare, hot mound against Senna's bone and muscle, dampness trailing down as Fallon marks her with wet heat.  Her own hand splays over the half-elf's sex and spreads its strong fingers, seeking the contours of the body beneath the pink panties.  Her longest finger finds the outline of the cleft of Senna's sex, traces and lays along it.  Her caress is deft, but not without savagery.  Were it not intended for pleasure, it could have been violent.<br/><br/>Fallon works her hand over Senna's pantie-clad labia, along to her inner thighs, down to her mid-thigh and back to her sex.  She keeps this up while her tongue flickers along the pebble of the half elf's healthily engorged, and sensitized, nipple, which enjoys the slow methodical painting of a dexterous tongue while Fallon stimulates her through the panties, frigging her in long, expert strokes-- pressure intensifying and easing like some partnered dance over her body.<br/><br/>The sensation of stimulating Senna's arousal inflames her, and she feels the throbbing crecendo of lust flaring and rolling in her own body in this act of unpredictable release.  There's no method to her lovemaking, but there's skill.  Talent perhaps?  But more than anything, passion-- sympathetic need and desire, and lust that needs no justification.