Rana comes and sits down by Layla next to the fire and kisses her deeply on the cheek. With a little more tongue than strictly necessary.

Layla laughs, and turns her head to kiss her sister deeply on the mouth. Their tongues tangle as she deepens the kiss, the warmth of the wine in her belly making it so easy to nestle in to her and kiss again and again...

Okay, she should take this back to their tent. 

Layla takes Rana by the hand and gets up from the fireside. "It's time we all got to bed!", she announces. "Or else we'll all be exhausted in the morning. It's your business what you do in your tents. I know I have plans." She grins. "Just remember, we've got miles and miles to go tomorrow!"

Naila slaps her on the shoulder, the blow enough to rock her whole body. "Well said!" She grins and stretches. "Let's all have a good night."

Fahim chuckles. "Well enough," he says. "You all have fun. Someone said I have a watch." He runs his hand down Hayat's side. "We'll handle the fire and the bowls, don't you worry."

Yasmin gets up, and leads Munir by the hand towards her tent. She seems... intent.

Fayruz grins. "Don't do anything stupid, now, you two!" 

"We won't!" Yasmin blushes but smiles back at Fayruz.

Layla takes Rana's hand, and guides her back in the direction of the spacious tent for the caravan leaders, a small smile lingering on her face. 

Rana goes. She's got Layla right where she wants her. 

Naila watches them vanish into their tent and takes another light sip of her wine. She'd join them, but she's supposed to relieve Kamil on watch now that the stars have risen. 

There will be other nights. 

Rana grabs at Layla's clothes as soon as they're into the tent, her hands hungry for Layla's body. She kisses her with her wine-tasting breath and presses her lips to her skin. The alcohol in her slurs the motions of her hands a little, makes them firmer and rougher than she intends - but it's nothing she's not used to. 

She kisses and bites all along Layla's neck and shoulder and bears her down onto the rug on the floor of the tent. The touches are a little vague and diffuse, swimming through her whole body. She steadies herself against Layla's body as her head spins for a moment, then kisses her again, deeper. 

She wants her right now. Her hand slips in between Layla's legs and starts to grope her as she kisses her more, more, more - 

Rana always gets handsy when she's drunk. It's a lot all at once, it always is, but she loves her. This is fine. The taste of wine on Rana's breath doesn't faze her by now; it's clear enough she wants it. The rug presses into her legs and back as Rana bites and kisses along her shoulder and neck, a wash of pleasurepain all across her body that makes her giggleyelp. The warmth of the alcohol in her too stirs her lust, and she kisses back when Rana comes to meet her lips with hers.

When Rana sways atop her, Layla thinks for a moment that she's going to puke - but then she recovers herself, and the second kiss is warm and full and deep. She feels a little hazy too, floating on the pleasure a little, but the hand between her legs still takes her by surprise. She startles, jerks away for a moment - but then she remembers that it's Rana, and everything is okay again. 

She wraps an arm up around Rana's body and pulls her in close, her other hand flitting out to grope at Rana's breasts as she kisses her deeply. The alcohol and the feeling of Rana's hand between her legs blur together into a lingering feeling of heat that suffuses her whole body. 

She wants this, too. 

It's easy enough to pull aside Layla's skirt and underwear, and then Rana's hand presses in hard against her pussy. She's not wet yet; not a problem. She pulls her fingers up and presses them into Layla's mouth to lube them with her spit. 

Her head is full of the scent of Layla, sand and sweat and wine. She grins down at her sister as she strips off her dancer's top with her free hand, baring her breasts for Layla to grope. 

"Beau-ti-ful," she croons. The word takes a little focus not to slur, but she has practice at this. 

She suckles Rana's fingers, tasting the oils of her hand, feeling the smoothness of her skin against her tongue. She feels dizzy and faraway and happy and she wants more. Her hands take advantage of Rana's discarded top to grope and pinch her nipples and feel the soft squishiness of her breasts under her fingers as she kneads and works them.

She is beautiful. Rana has always been so good at showing her that. 

She spreads her legs, begging wordlessly for her sister's touch. 

Rana pulls her spit-slicked fingers out of Layla's mouth and sends them to explore her sex. She takes her with rough, deep thrusts of her fingers, to Abaddon with foreplay. She puts her whole arm behind the motion as she spears her fingers deep into Layla.

Her head fogs with fantasies: she wants to make Layla cry out, to make the whole camp know she's hers. She wants to make Layla gasp out her orgasm in ragged, shuddery breaths. She wants to claim her for her own. 

Fuck you, come for me.

It's so much all at once. A little too rough, a little too uncoordinated, a little too fast - 

But somehow she doesn't care. Her body is loose from the alcohol and her thoughts are foggy with lust and need and drink. She just lays back and takes it, her head lolling against the carpet, her hands pressed into Rana's body. She swims in a plane of uncoordinated pleasure and occasional pain as Rana's fingers drag against the inside of her sex, but both blend together in the haze and she just feels good. 

Her body tightens and starts to shudder, building towards a release, her head muzzy with all the floaty sensations. 

"Rana..." she moans. "I love you..."

Rana kisses her. "Loveytoo," she slurs. Her hand works from long-accustomed instinct now, not anything conscious anymore. She just wants Layla to come. 

She noses into her body and thrusts her fingers and nuzzles her.

It comforts her to have Rana's body against hers. 

She lays her head in against Rana's shoulder and moans softly into her ear, a private performance just for her. The heat floods her body, makes her feel so, so, so good. She basks in it a little.

"Comeforme," Rana murmurs into Layla's ear as her fingers flex and thrust inside her. She focuses, enunciates the words carefully in a sultry whisper. "Come for me, Layla." 

The suffusing heat builds to an intense point, fixed just at the tip of Rana's fingers inside her, and then breaks with electric tingles all across her body. She moans long and low and heated in Rana's ear, and falls still. 

Fuck yes.

"Good girl." 

Rana pulls her fingers out of Layla's sex and wipes them off on her thigh, then flops down atop her sister and wriggles all over. "Gooooooooooooooooood Layla. Verrrrry good girl. Best'vegirls. Best sister." She punctuates each compliment with a kiss against Layla's neck. 

Suddenly Rana's wine-soaked breath is disgusting, rather than intoxicating. She pushes her aside weakly.

"You're drunk, Rana." 

"MmmmmmmmsowhatifIam?" Her head is spinning again and Layla is very soft. She does not want to move.

Layla levers herself up onto one elbow and kisses Rana's forehead. "You are very drunk. How many mugs?"

"Mmmmmmmm... foooooooour?"