[ in and then out, his breathing remains rigid and even. in the jedi order, meditation was one of the very first skills a youngling was taught to master. they would sit a child no more than six or seven in a room, alongside a group of other children the same age, and were taught how to meditate. once basic lecture was done, it was time to put it into practice.
the teachers could tell when someone's thoughts started to ran or they became distracted inside their head. they would gently whack them with a wooden pole on their shoulder, not painfully but certainly with a thud, and add another half hour onto their practice time. not just for that one youngling, but for the entire group. the order was a collective - they worked together, succeeded together and were reprimanded together.
caleb dume was awful at meditation and everyone damn near hated him for extending their time multiple instances in a session.
however it means that years of drilling have made him very good at it. still he can slip in and out with ease, so he doesn't miss a beat with her question. ]
Yes. [ his voice is firm and restrained, but not devoid of want. ] I'll let you know when it's too much.
[ now that he says that though, he thinks she'll take it as a challenge. ]
⟪ with no little fascination does she wonder if he is using the same technique now that she had witnessed in the gods wood just a few weeks prior. and it is true that it takes her... a fair deal of self-control not to see if she can find the edges of this ability. ⟫
Do.
⟪ she presses a kiss to his inner thigh before she returns, this time only with more mischief on her mind. she kisses the tip of his cock in the same slow fashion he has become so intimately familiar with, only to take it properly into her mouth next. not deep by any means, but enough, she hopes, to tempt him to movement. she teases his tip with her tongue only to withdraw again, and then to use her tongue against the length of him. ⟫
[ the next batch of breathes are shakier than the initial, even as he keeps them dangerously even and precise every ten seconds. he counts in his head while she rolls her tongue around his prick, and feels his insides constraining for how he resists the urge to push into her mouth. he's glad this time he can't see her, he thinks he wouldn't be able to resist opening his eyes to look at her. it would ruin him.
his hands only keep gripping the bed like he's about to fall off the edge of a cliff, holding on for dear life. his toes curl and his heels right slightly, the only physical indication of how this is affecting him. he swallows, throat now dry, but isn't ready to tell her to stop. it's a matter of pride for him even. he even constrains his throat to not make a sound, even now feeling a moan attempting to claw its way out for a verbal release. ]
⟪ not sure if she feels challenged or amazed by the fact that, though ragged around the edges, he still keeps his breathing in that steady fashion. there is a different tension to his legs – is he digging his heels in? she can't tell from her position, not without stopping.
and stopping, so it has been decided, is out of question unless he tells her to. he has not made a sound yet, and she takes him deeper into her mouth then, near fully, and begins to feign a steadier rhythm than before. if he could see her, she wonders if his task of holding out would be made more difficult, but that just so sparks another idea.
the next time she is lingering in tantalising cruelty at his tip, tongue teasing him before she covers him once more with her mouth, she allows herself a quiet moan. ⟫
[ he chokes down a sudden moan that tries to surface, the knuckles of his hands whitening and in pain as he becomes desperate to stay still. he regrets ever telling her he liked her voice, now he sees what he has wrought. the pace of his breathing starts to stutter, and he's trying his fastest to get it back on track as his heart quickens. ]
Cheater. [ he mutters quietly, still keeping any sound that tries to get out from emerging. ]
⟪ and is it not cheating to try and get her to talk now? something like that she might say, if that wasn't exactly her point. so instead of words, she flicks her tongue against him. she knows, too, that she could exploit this weakness to a far greater deal were she to use her powers, but that is neither here nor there. she enjoys the game, a great deal even, but only because it is a game. the fact that there is, if his hardness is any indication, an amount of pleasure for him in trying to hold back excites her. who wins the game is neither here nor there, there is no one who truly loses here.
she sucks the tip of his prick into her mouth, takes him to the deepest point yet, but she knows that forming a proper rhythm, truly making it so he fucks her mouth, would likely shatter his focus all too soon for his liking.
that doesn't mean she can't sigh softly against him, just for calling her a cheat. even though her voice has a shudder to it that easily gives away that she, too, is desperate to be touched. ⟫
[ he can feel her sigh, the shuddering breath, vibrates through his groin and it's becoming too intense. she gets her wish when she feels his throat hit the back of her throat, a strained and strangled moan breathed out as he tilts his head up and opens up his eyes sightless.
his body leans back so he can stretch out, hands nearly losing their hold on the mattress. he wants her to keep going, to push in deeper, and that's a bad sign. he's starting to lose slip of his control. ]
Mel... [ his voice trails off after that first syllable, a shuddering breath drawn out from his throat in place of the rest. ]
⟪ there's a doubled sense of intimacy here, between the shortening of her name and the way he draws his breath. he need not say 'stop' for her to know that this is what he means by it, and she pulls back, lips parted in a slight gasp.
and then twisting into a smile as she looks up at him. ⟫
Your focus is quite a challenge to best. ⟪ and she does not feel as though she managed that, as he'd not exactly lost himself to the point of giving in entirely. ⟫
[ a shaky laugh is his response, and added on- ] I could keep going.
[ bravado is his nature, even when he's so obviously spent. he loosens his hold on the mattress, getting one of his hands up behind his neck to smooth out the hair that slings to his neck. face flushed, damp with sweat, and he's taking the few moments of respite to even out his breathing again.
he leans upright again to sit up straight, close to the edge though he can still remain sharp, he offers his hands to her. ]
Come here. [ his breath, still ragged, pants out with need. ] I want to hold you.
⟪ she, too, straightens, first and foremost to slip out of her underskirt as he recovers slightly –– though he does not seem to need much recovery, what with the cockiness already plain as day in his voice again. the laugh she breathes out is almost exasperated in turn, and she takes his hand, quite expecting to know where his sentence will lead when it begins with 'i want'.
as often, she did not guess correctly. in the time before asshai, such... gentle requests were more commonplace, but the city of shadow has different ways, and little room for things that do not serve the immediate relief of an urge or the passionate trade-off of a prayer.
and still, she returns to his lap, entirely bared now, and brushes back a last strand of his now more mussed hair, and then, a thumb across his flushed cheek. ⟫
I've been told. [ though not as kindly as she does. ] You're an unusual woman.
[ he can't deny being drawn to the mystery that surrounds her. the life she's led, the apocalyptic doom she's devoted to preventing, how she keeps asking him questions while only divulging pieces of herself in return. he doesn't want to solve her so much as know her, understand her, and make his own conclusions.
he wonders if he gets to that point, she'll tell him if he's right or correct him on what's wrong. he wants her to be willing. ]
Do you want to be on top or bottom? I'm a lot taller than you so it might not be comfortable.
[ he's been with women smaller than her, and he's trying not to think about that too hard. ]
⟪ she has carried her secrets within herself for so long that she only barely remembers a time before, and even of her visions she only ever divulges a small part. there are things she intends to carry to her final pyre, like the name she was born with, if the lord of light does not bless her with forgetting before that day.
and yet, there are things she does not wish to forget, and in so short a time has his name, his face, the parts of his story she has been privileged enough to learn, claimed a place in those ranks. of how little she has told him of herself, some she's never spoken of aloud.
the more she dwells on this, the more she knows that she ought to keep her distance, and steer away. ⟫
On top. ⟪ and there's a sly smile to her tone, as she shifts in his lap, as her hands run down his chest and her lips are pressed again to his jawline, running lower towards his throat: ⟫ We can always trade places another time.
⟪ would he be so made of light if she was truly meant to avoid the companionship he offers? ⟫
[ he tilts back to give her more access to his throat, a gentle laugh released and a vibration she will feel as she presses into his throat. ] Already thinking about next time?
[ he wouldn't say no to a next time. making presumptions isn't in his nature, as a lifetime of detaching taught him to treasure the moment and move on when done, but how can he resist? he likes her and if she likes him then there can be as many next times as they want.
and while she's busy with his throat, he'll keep one arm wrapped around her for support and angle the other one so he can get hand in between them to press around her breast. ]
Let's talk about it later. You make it hard to think straight around.
⟪ she sucks in a quick breath of air at his touch, evidently struggling to stay as calm and controlled as she likes to appear. frankly, the use of magic would make this easier – so much of it comes at the risk of losing life and limb at the smallest of mistakes, leaving her focus and self-control near unshakeable even if whatever she is casting is not by itself dangerous.
without magic, then, she needs to pull herself together by ordinary means. ⟫
That ⟪ her hands trail up his back, fingertips tracing patterns as she arches against him – ⟫ would be my very aim.
⟪ and as her fingers trace the patterns in return, nails still light against his skin, but the sensation changed from before, she raises her head, lowers her voice to a whisper, dark and promising and suddenly tinged with true need: ⟫ I want you.
[ a shiver ripples down his skin, from the top of his head jolting down his spine, past his chest, to his crotch and legs, the terrible temptation of her voice penetrating him. when he lost his sight he worked hard to train his other senses to let him function. the force lets him see, but improved hearing is the result of learning what to focus on - in the environment and in someone's voice.
so he hears her want, her needs, and he's ready to throw himself before her and afraid of doing so. afraid to let someone in this close, knowing once she steps through he would never have it in him to push her out. what if something goes wrong? not in the moment, nothing is wrong now, but what if later. a day, a week, a month - he doesn't want to disappoint anyone and knows it is inevitable.
he snaps back when her nails graze into his skin, out of the trap made in his thoughts, and opens his eyes. he will never see her but she is here, wanting him, and not just tonight. kanan breathes out, lifts up his hand from her chest so that he may cup her face with a warm hand. ]
Are you ready, or should I prepare you?
[ he takes a moment to slowly adjust them together, pushing back to sit a little further up the mattress and bumping his ankles into the post. thinking too much, even if it's in his nature, is distracting him. he wants her too and he will focus on that in the now. ]
⟪ she leans into his touch, more instinct than any other thing. he was neither stone nor iron, he held warmth of his own making and he had not broken under the duress of his life, even as it had done its very darkest and worst. or maybe he had been broken – how is she to know? maybe he had performed the miracle of his own healing.
all she knows lies in this moment, and she will not think beyond it. ⟫
I am ready. ⟪ very, very much so, and he can feel just how ready as she adjusts astride him, takes his prick in one hand to guide him to her entrance. as if by way of explanation, if it can be called an explanation with how husky her voice gets, how plain she puts her truth – ⟫ There is not a thing done betweens us here that has not mounted my own pleasure just as it did yours.
⟪ and with that, she begins to take him inside, slow, to offer him, too, time to adjust to the sensation. much as she is aching for him in this moment, she does want to savour it all. ⟫
[ a slow, heavy breath, draws into his lungs through his nose as she pushes down on him, eyes shutting. he holds it for five seconds, giving her the time to settle, then breathes out with parted lips. kanan does not doubt what she says, but he does want to touch her more. it was easy when he had his sight, but without it he has this instinct need to investigate what's in front of him.
the force alerts him to a presence, gives him an outline, but the details are lost. all he has of her right now is a dream that doesn't follow the same script their real encounter does. one thing, and the only thing, he wants to take from it is when he ran his hands down her body. find her figure in curve and know where he should touch to make her go wild, because he doesn't want to waste any time. he doesn't have a lot of it to spare.
he can't do much in this position, but he always knows how to make the best of any situation. the hand on her face takes its time to trail down, tips grazing from her cheek to jaw, jaw down the neckline, then ending as he finds her breast again. he cups her breast, pushing up with his palm, and teasing her nipple with the pads of his fingertips. the arm he holds her with urges her to draw further in, steadily pushing himself further inside her, and he breathes out a moan in his meditation. ]
Tell me if it's too much. [ his voice a low whisper to match hers, heavy with heat. ] Tell me if it feels good.
[ he wants to know what to do for next time, and the next times after that if they come. he'll map her out from top to bottom if he must. ]
⟪ terrifying how easy it is to wish to open up to him. there's been a hint of this terror before, earlier, when she'd refused to go into the rain-dark night knowing that there would be no fire to protect her, skirting around her greatest fear. it is back now, but too distant to touch her in the haze, and brushed aside entirely as his fingers search her body. he teases her nipple and she exhales sharp, almost in a whimper, and her fingers curl against his back as she tries to keep steady.
the most certain answer seems to be that she is starved for just about any touch at all. ⟫
Not too much – ⟪ and she does take him fully inside then, breathing out a ragged moan, and a whispered, pleased curse in asshai'i hardly befitting a priestess. ⟫ But in this moment, I can't quite think of a time when I have craved a man's touch so much as I crave yours now.
⟪ her voice is tinged with want, and 'tis no lie. no, certainly there have been such times in her life, but were she to try and picture those occasions in this moment, she'd sorely fail now. and yet he's here, concerned that it may not feel good for her, which is so unlike the ways of asshai that she does not quite know how to respond, and instead, traces the arm that holds her steady, touch light and reassuring.
and then she begins to set a rhythm, and her hands urge him to thrust into her to match. ⟫
[ breathing becomes harder to focus on, to intake and release in pace, when she begins to thrust, his body shaking in the initial moments. though he's no man of purity and chastity, it has been a good while since he had sex. the efforts of the rebellion back home, understandably, occupied his and his partner's minds. for her, the mission was paramount to all other things.
he understands that commitment, its importance, and respects it. in turn, he did not realize how much he missed being touched and fucked until now.
she establishes a rhythm and he follows. his breathing, as well, begins to follow the rhythmn. for each thrust she makes in he inhales a breath and pushes into her. three thrusts after he exhales a breath that becomes an airy moan. he leans into her, clings, burying his face into the crook of her neck and lets his hands roam. down her back, around the curve of her ass, thumbs curving to brush the sides of her chest and still reach for the areolas of her breasts. his mouth plants wet kisses into the joint that connects collar to shoulder, muffling his moans into vibrating hums.
he's close, a lot because of how she prepped him, but he's trying to hold on. they don't need to come at the same time, and he'll let her ride out to her orgasm, but it's a matter of pride to not come yet. not until he's had his fill for the night. ]
⟪ at first, she still notes the pattern to his breathing, the self-control he exerts even now, but the more his hands explore every inch of her, the less can she focus on anything but the feeling of him in her, against her, all around her. melisandre, bless her heart, initially makes an effort to silence her heated moans against his shoulder, but the effort is abandoned soon enough, somewhere between burying a hand in his hair to encourage him to keep his lips to her skin and riding him as though nothing else in the world quite counts.
she is positively sure she could reach completion just like this, but in her daze, she is not unaware that she's pushed him a fair bit as a form of play earlier. so she draws his hand down near to where they are joined, to her clit, where she craves his touch most. ⟫
[ the practiced ritual breathing he has kept in sharp focus this night starts to give away to the intensity of pleasure heating up to a boil in him. his eyes snap wide and another heavy, guttural breath groans out when he feels her move his hand to his clit. there's no second thought, only instinct, to pressing however many fingers he can against it, bluntly rubbing it as she demands.
next time, in the haze of his thoughts, he knows he will lay her down and tread every inch of her body with his mouth. even if it takes all night he will. until then he pulls his mouth away from her flesh and tilts his head up to search for her mouth. he moans into her when he finds them, the tug of his hair exhilarating him as he digs fingers into her hip.
the sharpest sound he has made all night is freed when he feels his body seize inside her, releasing. ]
⟪ she kisses him deeply, until she needs to break for air, the pressure inside of her building up and up as she urges him to drive himself deep into her body. his release comes first, he spills himself inside her and makes a sound by her ear that she wants to hear over and over again.
she is not long for this world after, and when she comes, it's with a cry of his name and her legs locked around him, nails digging into his back in sharp crescent moons, for which she'll ask his forgiveness later. in the here and now, her heart is still racing, her skin still flushed, one hand stilling against his chest, where she can feel his heart beat. leaned against him, still joined, she can feel his chest rise and fall with every breath, and she would, for once, be called content. ⟫
[ as she goes he holds on tight, still thrusting as he rides out his orgasm and pushes for hers. his name rings in his ears, bouncing off the walls of the room, and he moans her name back into her shoulder, arm wrapped around tight as he massages her clit while she finishes. he can feel the stick between them and shudders in discomfort and pleasure all at once.
he slows his thrusts as she does and soon they both still. he lifts his head to press kisses into her neck, lapping her throat up, and then getting to her ear to nibble at the lobe. her breasts pressed against his chest, their heart beats starting to come down at similar rates, he breathes out an exhausted breath as he cradles her and lays his face into her shoulder blade. ]
Mhm. You good? [ he whispers sleepily, body ragged and exhausted even as it thrums in satisfaction. ]
⟪ she makes a content noise against him, the affections remaining unexpected, but... wanted, yes, all the same. the asshai'i are a depraved and pragmatic group, and the red temples preach pleasure and passion, yes, but in context to dedication to god – meaning she ought to settle in to pray right about now. this is not prayer, but the comfort she feels in his arms like this is deeply similar. ⟫
Yes. ⟪ so simple an answer, but there's a warm, happy weight behind it. she does not bother to brush her hair back, and does none of the withdrawing she knows to be more appropriate. instead, she places a kiss to the side of his head she can reach and then gently guides him down beside her onto the bed. ⟫ Are you well?
[ he yawns loud, however right after, no fight in him when he dips down to the mattress on his side. his head spins and turns from bodily high and his eyes fight the urge to rest. for the first time in weeks he feels so relaxed and content and later on he'll evaluate the obvious reasons why. last month took a lot out of him. he hopes this one will treat him better.
even so he touches a hand to his waist, trying to keep her close, not wanting her to go. they're both warm to the touch but as always she's warmer and it isn't so uncomfortable while flush with the heat of sex. ]
Damn. [ he mumbles low, voice on the edge of sleep. ] It's been a while for me. Sorry.
[ the spirit is willing but the flesh is exhausted and done moving tonight. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
the teachers could tell when someone's thoughts started to ran or they became distracted inside their head. they would gently whack them with a wooden pole on their shoulder, not painfully but certainly with a thud, and add another half hour onto their practice time. not just for that one youngling, but for the entire group. the order was a collective - they worked together, succeeded together and were reprimanded together.
caleb dume was awful at meditation and everyone damn near hated him for extending their time multiple instances in a session.
however it means that years of drilling have made him very good at it. still he can slip in and out with ease, so he doesn't miss a beat with her question. ]
Yes. [ his voice is firm and restrained, but not devoid of want. ] I'll let you know when it's too much.
[ now that he says that though, he thinks she'll take it as a challenge. ]
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Do.
⟪ she presses a kiss to his inner thigh before she returns, this time only with more mischief on her mind. she kisses the tip of his cock in the same slow fashion he has become so intimately familiar with, only to take it properly into her mouth next. not deep by any means, but enough, she hopes, to tempt him to movement. she teases his tip with her tongue only to withdraw again, and then to use her tongue against the length of him. ⟫
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his hands only keep gripping the bed like he's about to fall off the edge of a cliff, holding on for dear life. his toes curl and his heels right slightly, the only physical indication of how this is affecting him. he swallows, throat now dry, but isn't ready to tell her to stop. it's a matter of pride for him even. he even constrains his throat to not make a sound, even now feeling a moan attempting to claw its way out for a verbal release. ]
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and stopping, so it has been decided, is out of question unless he tells her to. he has not made a sound yet, and she takes him deeper into her mouth then, near fully, and begins to feign a steadier rhythm than before. if he could see her, she wonders if his task of holding out would be made more difficult, but that just so sparks another idea.
the next time she is lingering in tantalising cruelty at his tip, tongue teasing him before she covers him once more with her mouth, she allows herself a quiet moan. ⟫
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Ngh-
[ he chokes down a sudden moan that tries to surface, the knuckles of his hands whitening and in pain as he becomes desperate to stay still. he regrets ever telling her he liked her voice, now he sees what he has wrought. the pace of his breathing starts to stutter, and he's trying his fastest to get it back on track as his heart quickens. ]
Cheater. [ he mutters quietly, still keeping any sound that tries to get out from emerging. ]
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she sucks the tip of his prick into her mouth, takes him to the deepest point yet, but she knows that forming a proper rhythm, truly making it so he fucks her mouth, would likely shatter his focus all too soon for his liking.
that doesn't mean she can't sigh softly against him, just for calling her a cheat. even though her voice has a shudder to it that easily gives away that she, too, is desperate to be touched. ⟫
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his body leans back so he can stretch out, hands nearly losing their hold on the mattress. he wants her to keep going, to push in deeper, and that's a bad sign. he's starting to lose slip of his control. ]
Mel... [ his voice trails off after that first syllable, a shuddering breath drawn out from his throat in place of the rest. ]
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and then twisting into a smile as she looks up at him. ⟫
Your focus is quite a challenge to best. ⟪ and she does not feel as though she managed that, as he'd not exactly lost himself to the point of giving in entirely. ⟫
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[ bravado is his nature, even when he's so obviously spent. he loosens his hold on the mattress, getting one of his hands up behind his neck to smooth out the hair that slings to his neck. face flushed, damp with sweat, and he's taking the few moments of respite to even out his breathing again.
he leans upright again to sit up straight, close to the edge though he can still remain sharp, he offers his hands to her. ]
Come here. [ his breath, still ragged, pants out with need. ] I want to hold you.
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as often, she did not guess correctly. in the time before asshai, such... gentle requests were more commonplace, but the city of shadow has different ways, and little room for things that do not serve the immediate relief of an urge or the passionate trade-off of a prayer.
and still, she returns to his lap, entirely bared now, and brushes back a last strand of his now more mussed hair, and then, a thumb across his flushed cheek. ⟫
You are a very unusual man.
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[ he can't deny being drawn to the mystery that surrounds her. the life she's led, the apocalyptic doom she's devoted to preventing, how she keeps asking him questions while only divulging pieces of herself in return. he doesn't want to solve her so much as know her, understand her, and make his own conclusions.
he wonders if he gets to that point, she'll tell him if he's right or correct him on what's wrong. he wants her to be willing. ]
Do you want to be on top or bottom? I'm a lot taller than you so it might not be comfortable.
[ he's been with women smaller than her, and he's trying not to think about that too hard. ]
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and yet, there are things she does not wish to forget, and in so short a time has his name, his face, the parts of his story she has been privileged enough to learn, claimed a place in those ranks. of how little she has told him of herself, some she's never spoken of aloud.
the more she dwells on this, the more she knows that she ought to keep her distance, and steer away. ⟫
On top. ⟪ and there's a sly smile to her tone, as she shifts in his lap, as her hands run down his chest and her lips are pressed again to his jawline, running lower towards his throat: ⟫ We can always trade places another time.
⟪ would he be so made of light if she was truly meant to avoid the companionship he offers? ⟫
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[ he wouldn't say no to a next time. making presumptions isn't in his nature, as a lifetime of detaching taught him to treasure the moment and move on when done, but how can he resist? he likes her and if she likes him then there can be as many next times as they want.
and while she's busy with his throat, he'll keep one arm wrapped around her for support and angle the other one so he can get hand in between them to press around her breast. ]
Let's talk about it later. You make it hard to think straight around.
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without magic, then, she needs to pull herself together by ordinary means. ⟫
That ⟪ her hands trail up his back, fingertips tracing patterns as she arches against him – ⟫ would be my very aim.
⟪ and as her fingers trace the patterns in return, nails still light against his skin, but the sensation changed from before, she raises her head, lowers her voice to a whisper, dark and promising and suddenly tinged with true need: ⟫ I want you.
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so he hears her want, her needs, and he's ready to throw himself before her and afraid of doing so. afraid to let someone in this close, knowing once she steps through he would never have it in him to push her out. what if something goes wrong? not in the moment, nothing is wrong now, but what if later. a day, a week, a month - he doesn't want to disappoint anyone and knows it is inevitable.
he snaps back when her nails graze into his skin, out of the trap made in his thoughts, and opens his eyes. he will never see her but she is here, wanting him, and not just tonight. kanan breathes out, lifts up his hand from her chest so that he may cup her face with a warm hand. ]
Are you ready, or should I prepare you?
[ he takes a moment to slowly adjust them together, pushing back to sit a little further up the mattress and bumping his ankles into the post. thinking too much, even if it's in his nature, is distracting him. he wants her too and he will focus on that in the now. ]
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all she knows lies in this moment, and she will not think beyond it. ⟫
I am ready. ⟪ very, very much so, and he can feel just how ready as she adjusts astride him, takes his prick in one hand to guide him to her entrance. as if by way of explanation, if it can be called an explanation with how husky her voice gets, how plain she puts her truth – ⟫ There is not a thing done betweens us here that has not mounted my own pleasure just as it did yours.
⟪ and with that, she begins to take him inside, slow, to offer him, too, time to adjust to the sensation. much as she is aching for him in this moment, she does want to savour it all. ⟫
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the force alerts him to a presence, gives him an outline, but the details are lost. all he has of her right now is a dream that doesn't follow the same script their real encounter does. one thing, and the only thing, he wants to take from it is when he ran his hands down her body. find her figure in curve and know where he should touch to make her go wild, because he doesn't want to waste any time. he doesn't have a lot of it to spare.
he can't do much in this position, but he always knows how to make the best of any situation. the hand on her face takes its time to trail down, tips grazing from her cheek to jaw, jaw down the neckline, then ending as he finds her breast again. he cups her breast, pushing up with his palm, and teasing her nipple with the pads of his fingertips. the arm he holds her with urges her to draw further in, steadily pushing himself further inside her, and he breathes out a moan in his meditation. ]
Tell me if it's too much. [ his voice a low whisper to match hers, heavy with heat. ] Tell me if it feels good.
[ he wants to know what to do for next time, and the next times after that if they come. he'll map her out from top to bottom if he must. ]
no subject
the most certain answer seems to be that she is starved for just about any touch at all. ⟫
Not too much – ⟪ and she does take him fully inside then, breathing out a ragged moan, and a whispered, pleased curse in asshai'i hardly befitting a priestess. ⟫ But in this moment, I can't quite think of a time when I have craved a man's touch so much as I crave yours now.
⟪ her voice is tinged with want, and 'tis no lie. no, certainly there have been such times in her life, but were she to try and picture those occasions in this moment, she'd sorely fail now. and yet he's here, concerned that it may not feel good for her, which is so unlike the ways of asshai that she does not quite know how to respond, and instead, traces the arm that holds her steady, touch light and reassuring.
and then she begins to set a rhythm, and her hands urge him to thrust into her to match. ⟫
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he understands that commitment, its importance, and respects it. in turn, he did not realize how much he missed being touched and fucked until now.
she establishes a rhythm and he follows. his breathing, as well, begins to follow the rhythmn. for each thrust she makes in he inhales a breath and pushes into her. three thrusts after he exhales a breath that becomes an airy moan. he leans into her, clings, burying his face into the crook of her neck and lets his hands roam. down her back, around the curve of her ass, thumbs curving to brush the sides of her chest and still reach for the areolas of her breasts. his mouth plants wet kisses into the joint that connects collar to shoulder, muffling his moans into vibrating hums.
he's close, a lot because of how she prepped him, but he's trying to hold on. they don't need to come at the same time, and he'll let her ride out to her orgasm, but it's a matter of pride to not come yet. not until he's had his fill for the night. ]
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she is positively sure she could reach completion just like this, but in her daze, she is not unaware that she's pushed him a fair bit as a form of play earlier. so she draws his hand down near to where they are joined, to her clit, where she craves his touch most. ⟫
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next time, in the haze of his thoughts, he knows he will lay her down and tread every inch of her body with his mouth. even if it takes all night he will. until then he pulls his mouth away from her flesh and tilts his head up to search for her mouth. he moans into her when he finds them, the tug of his hair exhilarating him as he digs fingers into her hip.
the sharpest sound he has made all night is freed when he feels his body seize inside her, releasing. ]
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she is not long for this world after, and when she comes, it's with a cry of his name and her legs locked around him, nails digging into his back in sharp crescent moons, for which she'll ask his forgiveness later. in the here and now, her heart is still racing, her skin still flushed, one hand stilling against his chest, where she can feel his heart beat. leaned against him, still joined, she can feel his chest rise and fall with every breath, and she would, for once, be called content. ⟫
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he slows his thrusts as she does and soon they both still. he lifts his head to press kisses into her neck, lapping her throat up, and then getting to her ear to nibble at the lobe. her breasts pressed against his chest, their heart beats starting to come down at similar rates, he breathes out an exhausted breath as he cradles her and lays his face into her shoulder blade. ]
Mhm. You good? [ he whispers sleepily, body ragged and exhausted even as it thrums in satisfaction. ]
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Yes. ⟪ so simple an answer, but there's a warm, happy weight behind it. she does not bother to brush her hair back, and does none of the withdrawing she knows to be more appropriate. instead, she places a kiss to the side of his head she can reach and then gently guides him down beside her onto the bed. ⟫ Are you well?
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[ he yawns loud, however right after, no fight in him when he dips down to the mattress on his side. his head spins and turns from bodily high and his eyes fight the urge to rest. for the first time in weeks he feels so relaxed and content and later on he'll evaluate the obvious reasons why. last month took a lot out of him. he hopes this one will treat him better.
even so he touches a hand to his waist, trying to keep her close, not wanting her to go. they're both warm to the touch but as always she's warmer and it isn't so uncomfortable while flush with the heat of sex. ]
Damn. [ he mumbles low, voice on the edge of sleep. ] It's been a while for me. Sorry.
[ the spirit is willing but the flesh is exhausted and done moving tonight. ]
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